Part I: i've got my ion you

Like he was with most things, Simon Snow was unfortunately clumsy when it came to Chemistry.

He just didn't get it, honestly. When he'd first started the class he had thought it would be fun – Simon had imagined crazy experiments and blowing up the science lab – instead, it was mainly just following the syllabus word for word so that the students would pass their exams.

When it came to the practical part of their exams, Simon knew he was absolutely fucked – and so did his teacher. Dr. Possibelf was well aware of his issues in the classroom (namely, how he'd accidently pushed over a jar of sulphuric acid the other day and everyone had to be evacuated from the room), and cornered him just before their lesson one day.

"I've been pairing everyone in the class up for your practical exams, Simon," his teacher said in a warning tone, cutting straight to the chase.

Simon bit his lip. It wasn't like he tried to be bad at Chemistry, he just was. The only reason he hadn't failed up until now was because most of their exams were written, and he'd relied on his best friend Penny to get him through the practicals last year. This year, however, Penny had dropped Chemistry – she didn't need it for her future linguistics course, but Simon did for the psychology degree he wanted to do – so he was on his own.

"I've decided to put you and Basilton Pitch together. Is that alright with you?"

He stared at her. Simon Snow and Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch (or Baz, as he was better known to his peers) had a notoriously volatile relationship. They had been roommates for several years; Simon disliked Baz due to his family's snobbery, plus he was infinitely jealous of the fact that Baz was captain of the football team. Baz hated Simon because...well. Simon actually didn't know, but he reckoned it was because Simon was an orphan with no respectable heritage or some crap like that. Also, he had a tendency to leave his stuff everywhere, and Baz was nothing but a neat freak.

Simon considered for a moment. Yes, he and Baz didn't get on. But they were used to each other's habits, and – more importantly – Baz was top of the class.

"Okay," Simon conceded, "I'll try not to blow anything up this time."

He could only hope that his efforts would succeed.

"Baz."

"Snow."

It was ten past nine on a Thursday morning. Simon stood facing Baz Pitch, the two of them adorned in dirty white lab coats with ridiculous safety goggles perched upon their heads. Simon noticed that Baz's goggles had pulled his mid-length hair back, emphasising his widow's peak and making his cheekbones stand out even more than usual.

He blinked. "So. Thanks for being my partner."

For some reason, this made Baz blush, and then sneer, "I know you're going to fuck up, Snow. Just don't fuck this up for me, alright?"

Simon rolled his eyes, "I'll try my best. Wouldn't want to mess up your future med career."

Baz frowned, his eyebrows knitting together over his steel-coloured eyes, "How d'you know about that?"

The pair of them sat down as Dr. Possibelf entered the room and the students started to quieten down.

"We do live together, remember?" Simon said, "I'm not totally oblivious to all the med school leaflets on your desk."

The other boy scowled, "At least I don't leave them on your side of the room, Snow...do you know how many brochures I've found for psychology courses on my side?"

"Simon and Basilton, if you could postpone your dispute until after my lesson, that would be greatly appreciated," Dr. Possibelf cut in. Simon was certain he'd never seen Baz go so red – he was the number one teacher's pet, and it was pretty clear that he never got told off.

They muttered apologies and listened to the teacher's explanation of their exam. Simon gulped at the prospect of nearly half of his marks coming from just a few experiments he would be doing with Baz – he wasn't sure if the pair of them would even survive one lesson together.

A week later, Simon was still (miraculously) alive, and so was Baz. They'd had a few mishaps here and there – Simon had gotten annoyed at Baz for a snide comment and spilled some hydrochloric acid onto the table – but for the most part, they were fine.

They'd even sorted out a kind of system wherein Simon would tell Baz how much to get of what, and Baz would handle the actual doing part of the experiment. Simon would then begin to write up their experiment whilst Baz carefully recorded the results. Even Dr. Possibelf was impressed, much to Baz's joy. Simon found himself looking at the other boy on more occasions than necessary, purely because he so rarely saw Baz smiling.

"What are you staring at?" Baz snapped during one such moment.

Simon flushed, "Nothing. Just trying to remember what came next after the acid..."

Baz leaned over to look at what Simon was writing, his chest bumping into Simon's shoulder. When he spoke, his breath fanned softly over Simon's cheek, "Acid plus base, remember? It was ten millilitres."

"Thanks," said Simon, exhaling as Baz moved away again.

"You're welcome."

The civility was killing him.

Okay, fine. It wasn't that bad. Simon didn't exactly enjoy fighting with Baz; he wasn't totally fucked up. He was just used to it – after all these years, it had become a strange habit of theirs – and the way they were acting now, like the other was made of glass and just about to shatter, was infuriating.

Simon wondered how on earth they'd ended up like this. Baz hadn't made any rude comments for an entire three weeks, which was an outstanding feat for him. Likewise, Simon had actually made an effort to keep the bathroom tidy with Baz's hair products exactly how he left them.

In class, they were a real team; moving effortlessly around each other and staying at the same pace as the rest of their classmates.

Still, even if their newfound mutual acceptance was working, Simon would be lying if he said it wasn't freaking him out slightly. He was even considering asking Baz if something was wrong – that was, until Dr. Possibelf decided to approach the pair of them.

It was nearing the end of their lesson on Monday afternoon, and Simon was just scribbling down a conclusion as Baz was cleaning up their test tubes in the sink. As the teacher's shadow fell over the desk, both boys looked to her.

"You've been getting on well," Dr. Possibelf noted, "Not even a breakage!"

Simon glanced at Baz; to his surprise, the other boy was staring straight back at him. "Snow – I mean, Simon – and I have decided to call a truce."

We did? Simon gaped at Baz, bemused, And since when does Baz call me Simon?

"A good idea, I think," Dr. Possibelf nodded, "However, I have noticed that you, Basilton, have been doing most of the practical work, and Simon has been doing most of the writing. Is that correct?"

Simon looked at Baz again, and then at the teacher, "Well, we thought it was best to avoid breaking anything, like you said –"

"Yes, Simon," she agreed, "But unfortunately, I need both of you to do all the work in order for you to be sufficiently graded."

"Oh." said Baz, speechless for once.

"Indeed," said Dr. Possibelf. She gave each of them a pointed look before returning to the front of the room.

The boys stared at each other. Baz's eyes were wide with alarm; Simon set his jaw determinedly.

"You better fucking not mess this up, Snow."

"I'll try."

Unfortunately, Simon was all too excellent at messing things up. Try as hard as he might, he couldn't quite manage to get the correct measurement for their experiments, meaning countless time was lost spent re-doing them again and again.

He could tell Baz was getting angry from the way he dug the pen into the page when he was writing down the experiment. Every time Simon paused to bite his lip in confusion, Baz would glare daggers into the side of his head and boss him around.

At least we aren't being civil anymore, Simon mused, That was even weirder.

The pair of them had returned to their usual bickering state, and Simon was frankly getting quite sick of spending so much time talking to Baz. Since they were partners in Chemistry, he found himself asking Baz for homework help in their room, whilst Baz went out of his way to remind Simon about how to be more careful in the lab, even when they were about to go to bed ("Tuck your fucking elbows in, you chicken," was Baz's favourite piece of advice).

Simon wasn't even that surprised when Dr. Possibelf told them that it would probably be a good idea for them to complete their experiment that evening, since the rest of the class was ahead and they needed to catch up.

He felt guilty about slowing Baz down – that was, until Baz started yelling at him that evening.

Simon's stomach gurgled for what must have been the seventh or eighth time in an hour as he tipped some potassium chloride into a beaker of water. Dr. Possibelf had her headphones on at the front of the room as she was supposed to be "supervising", which pretty much left Simon and Baz alone to argue.

"Why didn't you go to dinner before coming here?" Baz hissed, "Your stomach's growling is distracting me."

Simon swore under his breath, setting the timer on their experiment and turning to face Baz, "For your information, I did go to dinner. You shouldn't even be able to hear my stomach unless you have fucking bat ears."

"Well then, fucking eat more! It's not like you don't have the space; I've seen you shovel down about twelve scones in a row at breakfast. And just because my hearing is decent doesn't mean I should have to suffer listening to your weird body sounds."

Simon was certain that this was one of the strangest arguments they'd ever had (His stomach and Baz's hearing? Really?) but he couldn't care less. Finally, a real fight. As odd as it was, he felt his energy returning to him and stood up straighter, clenching his jaw.

"My weird body sounds? What about yours, huh? Don't think I haven't been hearing your creepy night-time noises, Baz – you've been whinging in your sleep since fucking first year."

A loud scraping noise rang out in the lab as Baz pushed back his stool and stood, stepping closer to Simon and towering over him, even though their height difference was only a few centimetres or so.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Snow," Baz glowered, voice low and threatening, "So I suggest you shut your fucking mouth right now –"

"Or what? You going to shout at me in your sleep too? Fuck off, Pitch –"

Then, a crash. Simon had flung out his arms in anger, and the beaker that he'd carefully placed on the table tipped over. Baz lunged, but missed: glass flew everywhere, and liquid spilled out onto the floor.

"The two of you, out – out! See me tomorrow for detention!" Dr. Possibelf howled. Clearly, she'd heard the noise over her music. With not a moment to lose, Baz stormed out of the lab, Simon scurrying after him.

Simon hated detention. Just after most of his lessons and the wait before lunch, it was his most hated part about school. He didn't actually receive many of them, on account of the fact that he was normally quite good at blending in with his classmates, but when he did, they were dull, tedious, and usually involved him staring out the window, watching little figures run across the football pitch – one of whom he knew to be Baz.

This time, however, Baz wasn't outside. He was in detention right with Simon. They had been assigned to scrub the entirety of the Chemistry and Biology labs, much to Simon's dismay – if the Chemistry labs were dirty, the Biology ones were absolutely filthy. Simon was sure he'd seen a dissected part of an animal's eye stuck to the floor.

The night before, Simon and Baz had gone to bed without a word to each other. Simon, however, had stayed awake for what seemed like several hours. He felt terrible about the fight, as thrilling as it had been at the time. He was fucking everything up for Baz, who he knew actually tried a lot to maintain his position at the top of the year. Baz hadn't exactly asked to be paired with someone incompetent at Chemistry. He'd even agreed to be Simon's partner – and all Simon had done in return was make some nasty comments that he knew were uncalled for.

He didn't know a lot about Baz's history before Watford, even though they'd lived together for so many years, but he did know that Baz had lost his mum when he was younger, and that one of the words he muttered in his sleep repeatedly was Mother.

Still. He didn't quite have the guts to apologise, not when Baz was putting all his efforts into looking away from him and scrubbing the floor like it was Simon's face.

Dr. Possibelf had been so furious that she'd actually left Simon and Baz to clean up by themselves – perhaps not such a smart move, but she'd said they needed to "sort things out between the two of you", whatever that meant.

Simon picked at a piece of dried chewing gum under one of the desks and sighed loudly. The silence was absolutely suffocating; it was even worse than actually speaking to Baz.

He was just considering actually saying something when Baz's voice sounded from across the room, emotionless and quiet, but still audible, "Have you got any more paper towels?"

Simon's head shot up; he narrowly missed whacking it into the table. He stood quickly, grabbing his roll of paper towel. Instead of chucking it over to Baz like he normally would have, he crossed the room in a few strides, handing it to the other boy directly.

Baz looked tired. Simon hadn't noticed that morning when they'd gotten up, but up close he could see that the dark-haired boy had purple shadows under his eyes, and his hair was slightly out of place due to the cleaning the boys had been doing. He'd even removed his blazer and jumper, revealing a creased white shirt and crooked tie.

"Here," Simon said, trying not to flinch as Baz's fingers brushed over his when he took the roll. Simon turned, heading back to his side of the room. He was almost there when something stopped him – a hand on his wrist.

Slowly, he pivoted on his heel, coming to look at Baz. He wondered if Baz was going to punch him for being such an utter dick. Briefly, an image flew into his mind of Baz leaning in and kissing him.

Simon knitted his brows. Where did that come from?

"I –" Baz started.

Simon interrupted him, "Listen, I know I've been a right arsehole. You just really get on my nerves –"

"Yeah, you have," Baz said defensively, "And you're not that easy to live with either, you know."

"I know," Simon deflated, "I want to say – I'm sorry. Really. I know this class is important to you and I swear I'm not trying to be shit, I just am –"

Baz let go of Simon's wrist, shoving his hands into his hair exasperatedly, "Fucking hell, Snow, I don't care about the goddamn class. I'm pissed because of what you – what you said yesterday."

"What I – yeah. I'm sorry about that too." Simon looked him right in the eye, trying to be as genuine as possible. He didn't remember ever actually apologising to Baz Pitch before, but he reckoned there was a first time for everything, "I know it's not my place – not like we're friends or anything – but I know what it's like to live without a mum. I didn't know mine like you knew yours, but – I get it. I know I crossed a line."

Baz gave him a wry look, fixing his hair with a hand. "We cross a lot of lines, Snow." Simon wondered if he was referring to the time when Baz had almost killed him, but he stayed silent. "I'm not about to have a heart-to-heart with you, because like you said, we aren't exactly friends."

Simon paused. Then, "But? I hear a 'but'."

Baz rolled his eyes, "But thanks for the apology."

"Truce?"

This time, it was Baz's turn to hesitate. He nodded slowly, "Truce. But we better hurry up with the cleaning, or else we'll miss the whole of dinner, and I don't think you could handle that."

Simon had to admit that Baz had a point.

a/n: hope you liked it! thanks to lily (rogersvsbarnes on tumblr) for beta reading, please review :) part 2 will be up soon!