Well, won't you look at that. Did I say this was a one-shot? Hahaha, no. No, it's not. February is the month of love, after all.

So here's Bart's POV, as per CaffeinatedFlower's request. Hope I've done it justice.


Bartimaeus

Sometimes Nathaniel gets this positively disturbing look on his face—one that would surely win him an award for facial gymnastics if it accounted for anything useful, rather than adding more wrinkles to his baby face. (1) So, being the obliging djinni that I am, I jab a finger in between his eyebrows and tell him exactly that, just to rid the world of this small catastrophe. He is undeterred, however, and proceeds with this centuries-old rant about how wrong I am. Muting him out has become easier than trying to shut him up these days. Probably because I now am annoyingly unwilling to kill him.

(1) Would you believe me if I told you that at the fine age of 18 years-old (and a half!) his body has finally managed to understand what it means to grow a beard? Not that Natty-boy lets it. Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to give the country a fright after allegedly saving it.

For some reason, he has been cultivating this out-of-character habit of going to Regent's Park when London decides to give its inhabitants a momentary truce of sunny weather, and fails to provide a good argument to explain this idiosyncrasy. One of those days he stops to observe an artist standing underneath a willow tree. This artist is absolutely failing at mimicking the way the sun dances on the water, but as luck would have it, Nathaniel seems not to notice and stands there mesmerised for a moment. Now I could show him a better reflection than that if only he'd ask nicely.

To add to this growing list of eccentricities, he now goes shopping. (2) And one of these trips probably resulted in more wrinkles because he stops dead in his tracks to observe a middle-aged couple shopping. Of all things to do in the middle of a supermarket, I tell you. I, of course, save him again by poking his side and commenting on how magicians sure are nosy people. He mumbles something I pretend not to hear, and as we move along, I make a joke at his expense to return balance to the world.

(2) The first time he told me about this I examined him thoroughly to make sure no one had poisoned him. I didn't manage to find anything to prove my theory correct. I did manage, however, to aggravate him to the extent of getting an entire week off back in the Other Place out of it.

The next morning, I spot him in the kitchen smiling at my handiwork with a fist to his face when he thinks I'm not watching. (3) Well, he should be happy, if I do say so myself. I'm a superb cook. And if there's anything I've learned from all of my excruciatingly long time on Earth, it is that food always subdues you lot. I figured Nathaniel would maybe stop pulling that face if he ate like a normal person. Maybe put on some weight too, before he disappears. I was right, as it is to be expected. He is smiling. And so am I.

(3) Alright, so maybe I did see what he was observing back in the supermarket.

One day in the middle of July he gets in, wet to the bone, shivering and panting like an idiot who didn't take an umbrella to work, and I'm bracing myself for the weather-whining speech and mentally preparing counter-arguments. He barely utters a word besides saying sorry that he's drenching the carpet, though. Well, I suppose that's alright then, isn't it? If he's sorry then cleaning it surely won't make me the least bit peeved. I'm about to tell him just that when I hear the first sneeze. Rolling my eyes to infinity, I get ready for the storm. The next day he has a cold survival kit on a tray beside his bed, because I simply excel at everything I do, and he should know and appreciate it.

If there is one thing to say about daily life with Nathaniel, it is that adventure isn't lacking. Now, I don't think he hates it as much as he mumbles or screams it, and I'm inclined to believe he knows I could use the exercise from time to time. But it is a bit unexpected to find joy in solving crimes with a human who used to infuriate the living daylights out of me. It is so unexpected that sometimes I forget I'm only saving him because I'm told.

The trophy-winner face is back one evening when Nathaniel is hosting Kitty, Jakob, and Piper. I did believe for a while that Nat and Kitty would eventually get together, that it was inevitable what with their natural way of gravitating towards each other. But it has never happened, and fortunately it seems more unlikely every day. Regardless, I made it my mission to stop that idiotic face, and so I need to snap him out of it. (4) I was successful, as a fine djinni like myself usually is, but I didn't expect to see his eyes clear and lock on mine as if he was seeing them for the very first time. It ironically reminded me that his aren't half bad, for a human's.

(4) Jakob will just have to deal with his gargoyle phobia for a while. Plus, I'm sure Kitty will be kind enough to help him along.

October brings a nasty rainstorm that has my master twisting and turning in his bed. I could hear him clearly from up on the roof, of course. His screams do startle me a bit, however, and I swiftly go in to make sure he isn't actually being attacked by one of his many enemies. I find no third party, but a trembling, panting Nathaniel, covered in sweat and with a look so distant in his eyes I thought he wouldn't recognise me when I arrived at his side. Saying his name—or nickname; same difference—seems to do the trick, and he's clinging to me the next moment. I put my arms protectively around him, knowing fully well I won't be going anywhere. I wonder if he finally knows, like I have for a while.

Going to Regent's Park the next morning seems to bring him some comfort, and I see him sit under the willow tree as a couple of kids chase me around a garden of tulips. They are way in over their heads, of course. I'm nimbleness embodied in this guise of a squirrel, so I suppose it doesn't hurt to let them get a bit of fun out of it. But then Nathaniel has to smile of all things! He has to smile like some sort of profound realisation has hit him and he can't contain himself. So I get caught. And he looks. And I'm pretty sure he caught me too.

I'm going to stop you before you get carried away and start wondering if I'm a coward or anything equally preposterous. I am no such thing. But you have to understand that this sort of thing doesn't happen very often—not for me, and certainly not for many spirits. So I need to be certain before I dive right into this mess. But maybe I'm getting a bit impatient, because one day I find myself doing his tie. He's clearly nervous, and he tries to tell a joke to alleviate the tension. I laugh out of pity. (5)

(5) Oh, alright. Maybe it was more than slightly funny. He is learning from the best, after all.

I know he is going to kiss me before he does, because I was about to do the same thing. So he kisses me, and I kiss back without having to think, pull him by this fine tie he's now wearing. There are smiles, and then uncharacteristic silence, for even I have to admit sometimes words are simply overrated.

A month later after that happy occurrence, he summons me and I take maybe two seconds too long to notice a slight difference. Nathaniel barely lets me get there on my own, however, and is stepping out of the pentacle and walking over to me before I can fully process what's happening. I drink him in, with his determined eyes locked on mine and nevertheless shaky steps approaching the useless clutter of lines drawn on his floorboard.

I'm afraid I have to admit that I was floored, as you kids say these days. It has been too long. Somehow, I register that he's waiting for me, and so I pull him into a hug, feeling so overwhelmed I might even let three cheesy words run out of my mouth too soon.


Many, many thanks to anjumstar once again, for letting me pick her brain even while she's attempting to do some homework, and reassuring me that I still got it in me to write from Bart's POV. I'm offering malasadas this time. Come get them.

Thanks for reading!