Hey guys! I thought I'd write a longer Carry On fic, because I love writing long fics :) This one takes place years after Carry On ends, and explores what life is like for the characters as adults. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Carry On or any of its characters. I only own my own characters and ideas.

Prologue

BAZ

Being a vampire in London is the worst.

I love everything else about London. I spent my entire childhood living in the countryside, so the hustle and bustle of the city is exciting and refreshing. There's no shortage of places to go or things to do. And since Simon spent his whole childhood locked up in children's homes where he was lucky enough to see daylight let alone a museum, he's more than willing to go out with me to experience some of the culture. It's like walking around London with a little kid. He gets way too excited over things that don't matter and wants to eat everything. Sometimes I find it exhausting. Mostly I find it adorable.

I love my job. I'm a professor of linguistics at my alma mater, the London School of Economics. Turns out, being a magician means I'm really good at studying languages. I've even invented a few new spells along the way. Linguistics keeps me close to the language in a way I never dreamed of. It's fascinating.

Simon used to worry that he'd never find a job. That he wasn't good at anything and that there wasn't a subject that interested him enough to pursue forever. He used to fret about it at night, during our last year at university. We'd be all curled up in bed and he'd be whining about what he was going to do with himself after school.

"You don't have to do anything," I'd say, burying my face in his hair, trying to get him to focus on me for a bit (we were in bed and everything). "I'll support you. We can live off my salary."

"So I'm just supposed to mooch off you like a sad housewife?" he'd say, completely ignoring my attempts to seduce him.

"There's nothing wrong with being a housewife. You can cook and clean and massage my feet for me when I get home." Then he'd burst out laughing and finally turn towards me, so close our noses would touch.

"If I did that, one of us would burn the house down. I'm not sure which one of us, but it would happen."

"Yeah, but we could take bets on who it would be. It'd be like old times."

"Shut up," he'd say, but he'd be grinning from ear to ear. Then he'd kiss me (finally).

He worried like that right up until Christmas, when my stepmother overheard him telling my little siblings a story he had made up on the spot (he's surprisingly good with kids. I guess growing up in a children's home had one benefit). Anyway, my stepmother was so impressed with his storytelling ability that she introduced him to a friend of hers who's a publisher. Now he writes children's books. He writes for the Normals, but most of his books contain a brave hero and his brilliant sidekick who need to defeat some kind of dark magical creature and save the day (he's not very creative). It's actually been quite cathartic for him, to tell his life story through 25 page picture books for 7 year olds. (Sometimes, when he gets stuck, I tell him that he's attempting to write for too advanced an audience and maybe he should try for a less sophisticated set. I know I shouldn't tease him like that, but it's just too much fun. And he knows I don't mean it. He knows I'm proud of him.)

But the thing I probably love most about London is my flat. Or rather, my flatmate. I suppose Simon would be my flatmate no matter where we lived (we're not officially married, my father would disown me, but we might as well be), but that doesn't make me like it any less. I love living with Simon now that we're sleeping together instead of trying to kill each other. I love that he's just around, all the time. I don't have to call him to make plans, or show up too early and catch Bunce in her dressing gown. I love that he's always there to greet me when I get home (I guess he is kind of like a housewife in that respect. Simon works from home.) I moved in a year ago, right after Bunce moved out. To America. To get married. Simon and I went to the wedding and we haven't seen Bunce since. Simon misses her like crazy, even though they video chat almost every day.

Hell, I miss Bunce. She's the most interesting, intelligent, and entertaining friend I've ever had. And the most powerful (now that Simon's lost his magic). I can talk to Bunce about things that I can't talk to anyone else about, either because they don't know, don't care, or are too stupid to understand. She's the best friend I've got, probably the best friend I've ever had. (Simon doesn't count. He went from mortal enemy to boyfriend so quickly that he's never been a friend in my mind. We sort of skipped that part.) I don't talk to Bunce nearly as much as I did when she lived here, but she texts and we'll call each other occasionally with a question. Sometimes I sit in on her video chat with Simon.

But being a vampire in London is the worst. There's nowhere to hunt (seeing as I don't hunt people.) There's no lack of food, there are plenty of pigeons and rats, but there's no privacy. There's always someone in the park, even at 3 in the morning (I know, I've checked.) And even though I've become exceptional with invisibility spells (it's an occupational hazard of living with someone who has wings and tail and can't cast his own spells), they don't mask sound or smell, and I still feel completely vulnerable drinking when I can see people around (I've tried). Simon once suggested buying mice from the pet store for me to eat.

"And what do we tell the owner?" I replied. "When he asks why we're buying a crate of mice every week?" Simon shrugged.

"Tell him we've got a snake." I rolled my eyes.

"Snow, do you have any idea how few mice a snake actually eats? We'd have to have a house full of them for him to believe that." Simon looked so dejected that I laughed and gave him a kiss.

"It was sweet that you tried though," I said, kissing him again.

He then suggested that we raise our own, but the thought was too morbid for me to think about.

I drink the occasional rat that finds its way into our flat, and we spend a lot of weekends in the countryside, where hunting is easy, but most days I have to settle for a vampire bar.

I refuse to go Nicodemus's bar in Covent Garden. That's not my scene (plus, I never want to run into him.) I found a pub that I can tolerate in a back alley, run by an ancient vampire named Hank who only has two teeth (and they're not his fangs) and more wrinkles than a dried up fig. I like the pub because he serves Normals too, so I don't feel too much like I'm part of a vampire community (I never want to be part of a vampire community.) I also like it because, as far as I'm aware, it's the only vampire bar in London that will serve non-human blood. I stop by after work every day and order the usual. Hank knows all his vampire customers so he knows what that means. He'll ask me, "sweet or dry?" (Sweet means animal. Dry means human. I always order sweet. I don't ever want to develop a taste for human blood.) Then he brings me a glass of blood in a long stemmed wine glass. Like it's a particularly viscous red wine. Even if there's a Normal sitting right next to you. I go to the pub because I have no choice, but I much prefer hunting. I prefer knowing where the blood is coming from. And I definitely prefer drinking in private (I don't even like drinking in front of Simon, even though he's made it perfectly clear to me on multiple occasions that he doesn't mind it one bit.)

One day, Simon and I will move to the countryside. But for now, we're both enjoying London too much to leave. I still can't get over how happy I am. Part of me still feels like this is all a dream, even all these years later. Simon and I have settled into a perfect, peaceful life. I'm content. I'm happy. I wouldn't change anything.

I never expected Agatha Wellbelove of all people to fall out of the sky and mess everything up.

There is much more to come. Stay tuned :)