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The alarms are deafening. Simon's heart pounds in time with them, blood rushing through his veins, and he takes short, quick breaths, struggling to breathe under his mask. His hands are covered in sweat below his leather gloves, and it takes a moment for him to open the door, throwing his shoulder against it twice to help pop it open. The heavy thud of footsteps aren't far behind him as he rushes into the stairwell, his boots clanging on metal as he descends.
Down three flights of stairs, turn right. Through the door, down two more flights of steps. Turn left. Through the service door, into the alley. Run ten feet.
Simon recites the layout of the building in his head as he turns right, nearly falling into the railing but catching himself, the shouts of guards echoing off the walls as he continues to run.
He knows the blueprint of the museum like the back of his own hand. He spent five weeks studying it. If something goes wrong, he can always find another way to escape. Unless of course, he can't.
And that's the most exciting.
Simon grins as the service entrance comes into view, the scream of police sirens rushing to meet him as he makes it outside. The black duffel bag draped across his body thumps the back of his leg with every step he takes, creating a sore spot, making it ache.
It doesn't matter to Simon. The pain is worth it.
Ten feet away, a car hiding in the darkness of the night hums to life. One of its back doors flies open, waiting.
He did it. He's home free.
"HEY!"
The voice startles Simon. He half turns, not slowing down. He thought he'd outrun the guards, though apparently, he hadn't been fast enough.
He watches almost in slow motion as the guard moves, lifting his arm, a loud pop resounding through the air, ear-shattering. Simon yelps as a bullet strikes a nearby brick wall, the wail of a siren growing ever closer.
"Over here!" the guard yells behind him, and Simon sees a police car speeding towards them.
When will the cops learn, he wonders. They're always, always just a minute too late.
He dives into the backseat of his waiting getaway car, the door not even closed behind him before it takes off, rushing through the alley, another gunshot ringing out behind them.
"Hold tight!" says the driver, one of Simon's closest friends, Magnus Bane. He's wearing a mask over his face as well, pushing the gas pedal almost to the floor, and Simon flies out of his seat, bumping his head, clutching the duffel bag between shaking hands.
"Did you get it?" asks the only other person in the car, her voice straining to be heard over the engine and the sirens, red hair spilling out from under her disguise, and Simon nods.
"I got it!" he yells, and both she and Magnus whoop excitedly.
"Clary, call Raphael, tell him we need another car sent to the docks. We're gonna have to dump this one," Magnus instructs, glancing in the rearview mirror before taking a sharp left, sending the two in the backseat crashing into each other.
Cars on the street jam on their brakes to watch the getaway car fly by, a number of cop cars chasing after them, trying to flank them on all sides, but Magnus is a professional.
And outrunning the police is his number one source of fun.
He takes a quick right as Clary grabs for her phone, nearly dropping it as she tries to jab at her speed dial. It takes her a few times but finally she's able to dial the right number, pressing for the loudspeaker and listening to it ring, though it doesn't take very long for a voice to appear on the other end.
"You're all over the news," Raphael Santiago greets, sounding unpleased, and Simon can faintly make out the voice of a newscaster coming from somewhere behind him.
"We need a car left by the docks!" Clary screams as Magnus jerks the wheel again, the tires squealing beneath them.
"I charge extra for emergencies such as car chases," Raphael says, trying to sound bored but Simon can hear how smug he is.
"We'll pay whatever, Raphael, just hurry!" Simon shouts, and he hears Raphael huff, the line quiet for a moment, and Simon wonders if he's hung up.
"Triple the rate," Raphael says, and then the line really does go dead.
Simon laughs in sudden glee, as does Clary, and he tilts his head up towards the top of the car to listen. He can hear a news chopper in the air, though it's not surprising. Quite a few of their heists have ended in "emergencies," as Raphael called it, such as this.
"They really aren't letting up," Magnus says over his shoulder, pulling Simon from his thoughts as he motions to the flashing lights all around them. "No worries!"
He makes a sudden U-turn, the car swerving all around the road, and heads east, cutting from the right lane to the left, then back again, dodging between cars and twisting around bends until the traffic is too thick to see anymore, the heart of the city pulsing with life around them, making it impossible to tell one car from the next.
Magnus eases into traffic, pulling off his mask and Clary and Simon do the same, Simon's hair slicked down with sweat as he tries to catch his breath. He looks all around them in every direction, checking for any sign of the police but seeing none, listening for the helicopter in the air and thinking - praying - the coast is finally clear.
"We did it," Simon says, his voice low at first, his stomach in knots and every nerve in his body electrified. "Guys, we did it!" he says again, louder now, and Clary grins, throwing her arms around him in a hug, her entire body trembling.
"Don't celebrate just yet," Magnus says from the front seat, putting on his blinker and heading into one of the dark city tunnels. "Not until we're home and know for sure."
Simon knows he's right, of course, but he can't help it. He leans forward, squeezing Magnus's shoulder gently before sitting back, watching Magnus smile before he switches on the radio, the reception full of static until the end of the tunnel comes into view, Magnus hopping lanes and heading straight for the docks as the entire car fills with the sound of "breaking news:"
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have breaking news coming to you live now from New York, where one museum reports a priceless ruby necklace has been stolen..."
A ship's horn sounds in the distance as Magnus pulls into the docks, putting the car in park and popping the trunk, killing the engine. Simon can hear waves lapping in the water below, the moon reflecting in its surface, but they have to be quick, so he doesn't take too long to stare.
The three step outside into the cool air, a white Mercedes sitting empty only a few feet away, and Simon hurries over to it, feeling the heat emanating from the hood, and he knows Raphael's men must've only just left it.
Simon tries one of the back doors and it opens easily, getting down and reaching up under the passenger's seat, feeling around until his fingers touch something metal, pulling out the keys taped underneath and rounding the car to the driver's side. Simon inserts the keys and the car flares to life, moving to open the trunk for Magnus as he gathers their gear from the old car and hurries to get it all moved over, Clary pulling out the only thing left: a can of gasoline.
She soaks the old car in it as Simon pulls the Mercedes away, Magnus reclining in the backseat, and Simon opens the passenger door, watching from the rearview mirror and waiting. He watches as Clary pulls out a box of matches, striking one up and seeing the flame dance in the wind. She tosses it and runs, diving into the front seat beside Simon and barely has time to close the door before he's speeding away, a loud explosion erupting behind them, smoke and fire rising into the night sky as the car burns away.
Magnus takes the bag with the necklace and hugs it tight to his chest, seeming breathless as he watches it all unfold, and Simon knows the feeling, sharing a look with Clary, and they both start to grin.
The roars of a fire truck echo somewhere in the distance behind them, the noise cutting through the night, and Simon jumps when his phone begins to ring, cursing under his breath as he fumbles for it in his pocket, hitting the speaker.
"Hello?"
"So you really did it, huh?" comes Raphael's voice, never really one for pleasantries, and Simon cheers into the phone, Magnus laughing behind him but Raphael just sighs. "What do you plan to do with it, anyway?" he asks, and Simon wonders the same thing himself.
"Not sure yet. We won't be able to sell it, not for a while, anyway. It'll stay in our collection until then," he says, though Raphael doesn't seem convinced.
"I don't really get the hype. Stealing things just to horde them? Don't you ever get bored? Or, I don't know, claustrophobic?" he asks, and this time Simon laughs, shaking his head.
"Don't you ever get bored giving cars to criminals?" he asks, suddenly wondering if he shouldn't have. In truth, without Raphael's help, the three of them would've been put behinds bars a long time ago.
Raphael doesn't seem to take offense to it, thankfully. "Nope, pays the bills," he says. "Speaking of, leave the keys and my money in your mailbox, someone will be by to pick them both up tomorrow," he says.
Simon barely has time to answer back before the line cuts off, Magnus shaking his head and reaching between their seats to mess with the radio, putting on a local pop station and all their worries melt away as the drive home turns into nothing short of a karaoke party, each taking turns belting out verses to their favorite songs and then battling for control of the next station, laughing as they sing.
Every part of Simon feels alive, and he rolls down the window, letting the cool wind whip his hair, his entire body thrumming with energy. At one point when he pulls onto a long deserted road, he even goes so far as to lean out of the car and scream into the night, Clary and Magnus soon following suit.
When they get home, Magnus bursts out a bottle of champagne, pouring drinks all around, and they spend the rest of the night celebrating, Simon sitting back and watching his two best friends link arms and spin around in circles until they fall on the floor laughing and out of breath. And he just knows.
He knows.
They did it
The sound of the doorbell ringing wakes Simon the next morning, its chime reverberating throughout the house, and he groans, rolling over onto his stomach and pulling the sheets above his head. He peeks out, squinting at his alarm clock, and sees that it's nine a.m. Sunlight streams through his parted curtains and into the room, bright and warm, and he knows it'll be impossible to fall back to sleep now.
Yawning, he sits up, a dull ache in his head, and he swings his legs off the bed, padding over to the window and looking down into the long driveway just below. The Mercedes is gone from where Simon had parked it last night, and instead a new car sits in its place; a very familiar police cruiser.
Simon's phone buzzes on the nightstand and he snatches it up, opening a text from Clary. Luke's here, it says. He gets dressed quickly and heads downstairs, hearing voices coming from the kitchen, and he pops his head in, rubbing his eyes.
Magnus is sitting at the table with his feet propped up on another chair, a newspaper spread out before him, and Clary and Luke are both leaning against the counter, styrofoam cups of coffee in their hands. Luke looks up when he hears Simon enter and smiles at him.
"Morning, Simon," he says, and Simon yawns again.
"Morning," he says, accepting a cup of coffee as well and noticing a box of donuts behind Luke, grabbing one and sitting down at the table next to Magnus. "What're you doing here so early?" he asks.
"I just came to remind Clary she's having dinner with Jocelyn and I on Friday. Though you and Magnus are both welcome to come, obviously," he says, gesturing towards them, and Simon grins.
"Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss one of her home cooked meals for the world," he says.
"I'll definitely be there, too," Magnus adds, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip, and he pushes the newspaper towards Simon, who picks it up, having to do a double-take when he sees the front page headline:
Museum Hit, Priceless Art Once Again Stolen. Criminal Masterminds Loose on the Streets of New York.
"'Criminal Masterminds'?" Simon quotes, unable to stop himself from smiling a bit, and he clears his throat, taking a bite of his donut to stop himself from possibly saying anything stupid.
At the counter, Luke is already shaking his head, a low growl in the back of his throat.
"Can you believe it?" he asks. "That makes how many times, and in less than a month?"
"The newspaper says three," Simon says, skimming through the article and scratching the back of his neck before looking up. "I, uh, didn't realize it had been that many."
Two of the robberies had been himself, Magnus, and Clary. He has a good idea already on who pulled the other heist, though.
"Do you guys have any leads?" Clary asks, glancing between Simon and Luke, who sighs.
"Not yet. We've got people from all over looking for these guys. The department thinks maybe it's a ring of people working together, because some of the crimes are being pulled off in the same way, while some of them are different. In any case," he continues, looking to Simon now, "with all this expensive stuff you've got in here, Simon, you might want to take some extra precautions. I'd hate to see you get robbed."
Simon, Magnus, and Clary all have a rule: nothing they display in the house is stolen. Some of them are knockoffs of things they've actually taken, but nothing real. No, that all stays in the vault downstairs. And thanks to a secret door, no one can just wander down there, so they're safe.
For now, anyway.
Simon smiles at Luke just then. He doesn't know about what they do, he never can, but Simon appreciations how protective he always is anyway. Ever since Simon's real father passed away, Luke has always been there for him, like another parent. Simon and Clary haven't told him yet, but when they first started making all their money, they put away a small fund for when Luke and Jocelyn retire, to help take care of them. There's one for Simon's mom as well, and his sister. Some of it is money from their black market sales, and some of it is money they've actually earned.
Because they aren't just full-time thieves; Simon owns a tech company as well, one he bought a few years ago. It's how he's gotten so well at disabling security systems.
"Thanks, Luke," he says fondly. "We'll make sure to stay safe, I promise."
"Good," Luke says, nodding, as Simon's phone starts buzzing in his pocket.
He pulls it out, seeing he has a new text, and opens it. There's no words, just an attachment, and Simon clicks it, a picture beginning to load, and he almost drops his phone when it's done, scrambling to catch it before it smashes on the floor. Simon doesn't realize how hard he's breathing until he looks up, the others all staring at him, and he can feel himself shaking as he clutches the table, standing up and gasping.
"Simon?" Luke asks, taking a step forward. "Is everything alright?"
"Fine! Everything's fine. I, uh. That was work. I forgot I have to phone in for a conference," he rushes, hurrying away from the table. "Please excuse me, I'll be right back!" he calls over his shoulder, practically running down the hall and into his office, slamming the door and locking it tight behind him.
Simon stares down at his phone again, not believing what he's seeing. It's a photo of a necklace.
A ruby necklace.
A priceless, one-of-a-kind ruby necklace.
The same, priceless, one-of-a-kind ruby necklace down in Simon's vault.
But in this photo, it's around the neck of a shirtless blond boy, his smile almost as bright as the jewels themselves, wide and mocking.
Simon shakes his head. No. There's no way. It's not possible.
It can't be possible.
Simon is dialing the number before he even knows what he's doing, pacing in front of his desk and biting at his nails, listening to the other line ring. It's only brief, though, before someone picks up.
"Hello, Simon," says the smooth voice. "I see you got my message."
"Jace," Simon warns. "What the hell?"
Jace Lightwood. Simon's biggest competitor. Like Simon, he's wealthy. Also like Simon, he too has a knack for taking things that don't belong to him. Though his ego is much more inflated. And there's nothing he loves to do more than show off.
When Simon first joined the business, so to speak, Jace was already a veteran at it. Always getting bigger scores, and always bragging about it. Sometimes through text, sometimes through a call, sometimes at some gala, right to Simon's face, right in front of everyone but not close enough for any of them to hear.
He was the one wearing the necklace in the photo. But no, he couldn't have been. Because it's not possible.
Jace laughs on the other end, low and amused, and Simon runs a hand through his hair, his entire body still shaking.
"Did you break into my house?" he demands, hearing rustling as Jace moves around on the other end, then stops.
"No," he says, matter-of-factly, and Simon's heart begins to pound.
"Then how - ?" he begins, but Jace just cuts him off.
"It's been in my collection for years, Simon. Though I applaud your efforts of going through all that trouble just to steal a replica."
"A replica?" Simon hisses, shaking his head. "No, no way. You're lying."
That makes Jace laugh again. "Yeah? How else would you explain it, Lewis? How else would you explain there being two of them?"
"I don't believe you," Simon says, though it comes out more like a whimper. More like he's trying to convince himself.
Jace sighs on the other end, feigning boredom. "Three years ago, I stole that very same necklace. I had a fake made so no one would suspect it was gone. And it did it's job very well, don't you think? Even had a - what're they calling you now? - mastermind criminal like you fooled," he says, his tone way too full of amusement, and Simon clutches his fist at his side.
"I'll let you borrow it, though, if you really want," Jace continues, ignoring Simon's silence. "You know how I do so love to help out those of lesser fortune."
"I'm gonna get you back for this," Simon warns suddenly, his voice low, and Jace snorts.
"Is that so? And just how exactly are you going to do that?" he coos, pushing Simon's buttons again, as per usual.
"We've already got our eyes on an even bigger score. Bigger than some silly little necklace, you'll see," Simon lies, though maybe it is the truth, as an idea starts churning in his mind.
"Well in that case, feel free to give me a call beforehand, just to double check that it's not something already in my collection. It'll save you a lot of free time," Jace offers, before pausing, silent for a moment. "You know Simon, you always do sound cute when you're angry."
Simon doesn't say another word, heat suddenly rising in his cheeks, and he hangs up just as Jace starts to laugh again, his hands trembling as he storms from his office back towards the kitchen. He pauses to take a deep breath before entering, setting his phone on the table, and everyone looks at him with raised eyebrows, Luke sipping his coffee and watching him carefully.
"Is everything okay at work?" Clary asks, stepping forward and leaning her hand against the table, and Simon nods, trying to smile without it seeming too forced.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry about that. It was just about approving the financial budget, I told them I'd take care of it," he says, sitting back down, bouncing his knee under the table and blowing out air.
Luke finishes his coffee and tosses his cup away, wiping his mouth and patting Simon on the back.
"I won't keep you from taking care of business. I gotta get to work anyway," he says, pausing to take another donut before pointing at the box. "Don't let these go to waste."
Clary pulls him into a hug then, Luke squeezing her back.
"I'll call you tomorrow," she says, and Luke grins.
"You better." He points to Simon and Magnus. "See you both on Friday?" he asks, and they nod, waving goodbye.
Simon stays quiet, listening to the front door close and Luke's car pull out of the driveway before grabbing for his phone, bringing up the picture of Jace again and sliding it across the table for the other two to see.
"I know our next big hit," he says, looking between Clary and Magnus. "We're going to rob Jace Lightwood."
Magnus starts choking on his coffee at the same time Clary says, "What?"
Magnus shakes his head. "Are you insane?" he gasps, wiping his chin with a napkin, and Simon delves into the story, telling them about the necklace being fake and motioning to the photo of Jace to prove his point.
Magnus studies the photo first, then Clary, who hands Simon his phone back and crosses her arms.
"So, what, you wanna steal the real necklace back from him? I agree with Magnus. I mean, we've never done something like this before, Simon."
Simon starts shaking his head before she's even finished. "I don't want to steal the real necklace," he says, and Magnus raises an eyebrow.
"Then, what, exactly, are we after?" he asks, and Simon shrugs.
"I don't know yet. Something... personal. Something we can dangle in front of him, use to ruffle his feathers. Get inside his mind. And once we've had our fun, we'll give it back."
"Give it back? Just like that?" Clary asks, and Simon nods.
"Jace will be furious once he realizes we took something," Magnus states the obvious, his eyes almost twinkling at the thought, and Simon begins to grin.
"Oh, he'll be much more than that," he agrees. "Which is exactly how I want him."
It takes a few weeks of planning to decide when and how to go after Jace. They take turns casing the Lightwood estate at all different times of the day, watching who comes and goes and how long they stay. The main ones to always be around are the obvious - Jace, plus his brother and sister, Alec and Isabelle. Occasionally a dark-haired woman and a balding man appear, with a small boy in tow. Simon recognizes them from various magazines; they're the rest of the Lightwood family.
Every few days, Jace's business partners appear, men and women in Italian suits driving expensive cars. A cleaning service comes once a day, and a gardener once a week. Other than that, the house is usually quiet.
They keep a detailed timetable, looking over it every night, searching for a pattern, an opportunity to get in.
After about a month, they find it.
It's a warm Friday evening when Clary pulls up across the street from the Lightwood's, putting the car in park but keeping it running, her hands gripping the wheel as she searches the street with her eyes, on the lookout for anyone who might see them. Her eyes meet Simon's for a moment and then she turns back to look at Magnus, her face full of worry.
"Remember, you have fifteen minutes to get in and get out. Try to take no longer than ten," she instructs, and Simon nods, setting a timer on his phone while Magnus gives her a look of encouragement.
"Don't worry, biscuit. We have no intention of getting caught," he tells her softly, all of them falling silent as they watch the cleaners leave, and once the van is around the corner and out of sight, so are Simon and Magnus, running across the street and ducking down by the front door as Magnus works the locks to get them in.
Simon smiles to himself as the door flies open and they hurry in, his fingers quick to open the panel of the alarm and disable it before it's even had a chance to really ring. His heart hammers in his chest, excitement bubbling through him, filling every part of his nerves as the house quiets once again.
For weeks, Simon has endured Jace taunting him, a smile always on the blond's lips.
"Gotten anything of interest lately, Simon?" he'd ask.
Or, "I'm still waiting to hear about this grand score you've got planned."
And, "You really do think you can beat me, don't you, Simon? Ha, good luck. You're going to need it."
And then he'd always laugh.
He won't be doing much of that after tonight.
Making sure the main hall is clear, Magnus and Simon ascend the grand staircase of the house, glancing at each other before taking deep breaths and trying the handle of the first door.
It's a guest room, the furniture all dark wood and the walls an elegant blue. A neatly made bed sits in the center, vases full of freshly cut roses placed strategically around the room, and a TV with an armchair sits tucked comfortably in the corner.
Magnus whistles lowly before they pull the door shut again, shrugging at Simon's confused expression before smirking.
"What?" he whispers. "I wouldn't mind staying in there. It's a nice house."
"I bet you say that about every home before you rob it," Simon accuses in a teasing voice, and they both let out a small bit of nervous laugher.
"Good point," Magnus says, reaching for the next door, and they step inside, this room actually looking lived in.
The bed is piled with blankets and some scattered pieces of clothing, a desk in one corner and a punching bag in another. There's a flatscreen hanging on one wall, a dresser right below it with picture frames decorating the top, and a door which, upon inspection, leads into the bathroom. The other wall has a collection of various-sized swords hanging on it, Simon staring at them in awe while Magnus goes to inspect the photos.
"Judging by these," he says, careful not to move any frames from their original spot, "I'd say we're in Jace's room."
"He collects swords?" Simon asks, jabbing in their direction with his thumb, and shakes his head. "Really? What doesn't this guy do?"
"Rob him first, ask questions later. We only have about six minutes left," Magnus says, checking the clock on his phone, and Simon nods.
"O-okay," he says. "You take the desk, I'll take the dresser."
Magnus pulls on the top drawer of the desk, finding it opens easily, while Simon feels underneath Jace's shirts and pants, looking for anything hidden by the fabric, or a false bottom in the wood, neither turning up anything of interest.
After that they check the closet, Simon pulling open the double doors, finding nothing but suits and some plain t-shirts and jeans strung up by the hangers. There's a rack of shoes at the bottom, and Simon leans down, squinting, just able to make out the shape of a safe behind them. He's able to tell right away that it's state-of-the-art. It'd take a while to crack, not even having the right tools on him for the job, but Simon knows he could do it.
Magnus kneels down next to him, checking his phone again and shaking his head.
"There's no time," he says, and Simon groans. "It'd be helpful if I knew what we were looking for, though."
"It's like I said before, anything that'll rile him up once he knows we have it."
"We've gotta find something and quick, then."
Simon runs a hand through his hair, scanning the room and moving towards the bed, pointing at the matching bedside tables.
"Okay, okay, let's check these. If we don't find anything, we'll get out of here," he says, and Magnus opens one, Simon opening the other.
There's not much inside: some books piled on top of a few used notebooks, some pens and pencils rolling around at the bottom. There's a pack of gum, a cellphone charger, all things useful to Jace but nothing useful to Simon.
Just as Simon's about to give up, Magnus clears his throat and holds up a little black jewelry box, popping it open and revealing a gold ring. It glints in the fading sunlight, a large cursive L emblazoned on the front, with black flames etched in the gold band surrounding it.
A Lightwood insignia ring.
Simon's seen Jace wearing it before, Alec and Isabelle having their own as well. He gently takes the case from Magnus, not able to ask the question out loud, hoping his face does it for him.
Do we really dare take this?
The small nod Magnus gives him is all the assurance it takes, Simon pushing the lid closed and slipping the case into his back pocket. They shut the tables tight and just then Simon's phone beeps, signaling the end of their ten minutes.
Making sure they've left nothing out of place and nothing behind, they shut the bedroom door and fly down the steps, Simon being sure to lock the front door behind them before they dash across the street and into the waiting car.
"Did you find something?" Clary asks as she's already pulling away, and Simon shows her the ring, pausing, before slipping it on his finger. A perfect fit.
Jace calls about fifteen minutes later.
They're eating burgers at a small diner when Simon's phone rings. He wipes off his hands, taking a swig of his Coke before answering.
"Hello?" he says in a sweet voice, making Clary giggle, but Jace wastes no time.
"You're not as smart as you think you are, you know," he says, in a demanding voice. "Shutting off alarms is easy for you, sure, but did you ever even think to check for cameras?"
"Your house is rigged with cameras?" Simon asks, looking to Magnus to see if he noticed, and for a moment Jace almost sounds amused.
"Yours isn't?" he asks, and Simon can practically hear him smiling, and he shrugs, even though Jace can't see him.
"Doesn't really matter, I guess. We weren't exactly trying to be the most discreet."
Jace pauses then. "Wait, you wanted to be caught? Why?"
"Why not?" Simon counters, glancing down at the ring on his hand. "Do you know what we took?" he asks quietly, looking at the surrounding tables to make sure no one's heard, and Jace huffs.
"I know what you took. And I know I'm going to get it back, one way or another," he says, and Simon chuckles.
"Oh don't worry, you'll get it back, I promise. But at what price? That's the question," he says, and hangs up before Jace has time to answer.
Saturday comes and goes so painfully slow, Simon doesn't think the day will ever end. He spends most of it checking his phone, expecting a text or call from Jace, but there's not a peep. It worries Simon, considering everything. He calls out from work, telling Clary and Magnus he's going to stay home to consider their next move, but paces around instead, checking and double-checking and triple-checking that all the doors and windows are locked. He looks inside the vault every hour, then every half hour, making sure that everything there is accounted for.
He installs cameras later that night.
By the time Magnus and Clary get home, Simon is making dinner; a homemade pot of soup, something he hopes will help calm his nerves. Clary sets the table while Magnus pours them all something to drink, handing them each their glasses and raising his in a toast.
"I know our next move," he says, then takes a sip before gesturing widely. "There's going to be a charity benefit tomorrow downtown, for a relief organization. Lots of celebrities attending. Simon is going to make a generous donation, and then when he goes, he'll wear the ring."
Simon freezes with a spoon halfway to his mouth, a drop of broth hitting the tablecloth, and he sets it back down in his bowl, blinking slowly.
"You're... you're serious?" he asks, and Magnus raises an eyebrow.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be? You said you wanted to have some fun before we give it back, right? Well, here's our chance."
Simon looks down at his hand in his lap, wiggling his fingers, the ring glinting in the light of the overhanging chandelier. He's been wearing it all day, never taking it off, afraid of Jace coming to take it back or, even worse, losing it.
"Unless you'd rather I do it?" Magnus asks, his head tilted to one side, almost sounding worried.
Simon shakes his head, a bit too quickly, and eats another spoonful of soup before answering.
"No, no, I got it. Really. What's, uh, what's the name of the benefit?" he asks, pulling out his phone, and after finding the website thanks to Magnus, is able to make a very large donation.
About ten minutes later, his phone vibrates with a new email, requesting his presence on the charity's red carpet. Simon confirms he'll be there, Clary sipping her martini before speaking up.
"What if the Lightwoods are there?" she asks, and Simon groans, Magnus smirking.
"Then cheers to one hell of a party," he says, sipping his own drink, and Simon laughs, raising his glass.
"Here, here."
A limo waits outside in Simon's driveway Sunday night. Magnus and Clary help choose his tux, Clary fixing Simon's bowtie while Magnus combs his hair down, offering him a pocket watch, and Simon shakes his head.
"Wouldn't it be easier to wear a regular watch?" he asks, putting it away, and Magnus shakes his head.
"No, only wear the ring, and keep it on your right hand. You use that hand the most, so you'll be able to draw more attention to it."
"Magnus and I will be hanging out in the area, too, just in case you need us," Clary adds.
She's wearing a short black dress with her hair done up and soft eye makeup. Magnus, in turn, is wearing a loose blue shirt with matching pants, his makeup sharp, jewelry on his fingers and ears. Both looking red carpet ready.
Neither of them planning to actually step on it, though.
"Are you sure you guys don't want to come with me? Technically, I made the donation in my company's name, so I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you did."
"Can't. We already have plans," Magnus says, checking Simon's jacket one last time for any impurities, and Simon frowns.
"What? Where?"
"There's some coffee place nearby called Java Jones, they have this singer come in every week, apparently she's really amazing. Her name's Maureen Brown," Clary says, and Magnus nods.
"But if anything happens, we're only a call away," Magnus reassures Simon, who takes a deep breath, nodding.
"Right, okay. Let's do this."
Simon sees the blinding flash of cameras before the limo even stops. Clary and Magnus had been dropped off a few blocks back, some passersby pulling out their phones and snapping photos with their cameras, most likely wondering who the glamorous pair were. Simon gives the driver an extra tip for going out of his way, asking to be picked up here in about two hours, and the driver tips his hat, Simon's door opening to an array of shouts from the paparazzi.
Simon steps out, buttoning his jacket, and gives a wave, starting down the carpet, following the trail with his eyes. It leads down a straight path for a few feet, then up a large, wide set of stone steps and into the event hall.
He pauses for a few photos, smiling, and colors dot his vision from all the bright lights. He walks on, pauses again, and repeats, until he's at the bottom of the steps, about to make his way inside, when someone calls his name.
Simon turns, finding two reporters, one holding a camera and one holding a voice recorder, off to his left. The one with the recorder steps forward, holding up her red dress so as not to trip on it.
"Simon Lewis? I'm Maia Roberts, from The Jade Wolf Daily. This is Gretel. Mind if we have a quote?"
Simon grins, nodding, and smiles for the camera, Gretel snapping a few photos.
"Of course, pleasure to meet you both," he says, and Maia nods.
"Mr. Lewis, you belong to one of the largest technology companies in the world. What made you want to donate tonight?" Maia asks, extending the recorder towards him, and Simon speaks down into it.
"The reason I got into technology in the first place is because of the way it's constantly advancing to help people," Simon says, not technically a lie. "My belief is that we should extend that helping hand to other companies doing the same, like this one."
"And why isn't anyone else from your company here with you tonight?" Maia asks, raising an eyebrow, and Simon smiles at her.
"We only just learned about this event last night, which unfortunately, made it difficult to find others who could attend," Simon says, that one definitely being a lie. Truth be told, he never even asked anyone other than Magnus or Clary to come.
"But believe me when I say, our donation was made in the good name of the company, and not just mine," Simon adds, suddenly feeling a bit nervous, and he reaches up to smooth his hair down, Gretel snapping another photo at the same time.
She lowers her camera, bumping her shoulder against Maia's, then motions towards Simon, clearing her throat.
"Mr. Lewis, not to be rude, but is that a Lightwood ring you're wearing?" Gretel asks, the lens of her camera extending to zoom before he's even answered, snapping another photo.
Simon resists the urge to grin. Finally.
"Actually, yes, it is," he says, Maia's eyes going wide as Gretel continues to take photos.
"And may we have a quote on that?" she asks, and Simon licks his lips, smiling.
"Jace Lightwood and I are... very close. Our relationship is mostly kept out of the public eye, of course," he adds, and Maia grins.
"Relationship? And can we quote you on that?" she asks, and Simon laughs, noticing quite a few other reporters taking interest in their conversation now, creeping closer to listen.
"Absolutely. I knew Jace wouldn't mind me borrowing it tonight," he continues. "That, and, it just looks better on me."
Simon raises his head when he says the last part, noticing a cameraman from a local news station fixated on him, Simon winking in his direction.
"Thank you for your time!" he says, shaking Maia's and Gretel's hands and giving another wave, then heads inside, more reporters calling his name out behind him, but he ignores them.
Magnus was right, Simon thinks. This is fun.
Come Monday morning, Simon feels amazing. He's all over the news again - and this time, without a mask covering his face. He reads the headlines on his way to work:
Billionaire Bachelors: Are New York's Richest the Next It Couple?
Simon can't help but laugh as he reads article after article, all of them asking the same things: just who are Jace Lightwood and Simon Lewis, and are they really together?
As if the world doesn't already know the answer to that first question, Simon thinks. As for the second one, he intends to let them all keep making assumptions. For as long as he can, anyway.
Simon sits through a board meeting that morning with a smile on his face the entire time, and come lunch, he's eating sushi in his office with his assistant, Dot Rollins, recounting for her the entirety of last night's events, much like he had done with Clary and Magnus when they'd gotten home.
Leaving out the part that the ring was stolen, of course.
The phone rings on Dot's desk and she hops up. "Hold that thought," she tells Simon, straightening her dress and going out to answer. "Simon Lewis's office, Dorothea speaking," he hears her say. Then, "one moment, please."
There's a pause and Simon sets his food down, sipping his bottle of water when Dot sticks her head back in, clearing her throat and biting her lip.
"There's, uh, someone for you on line two," she says, and Simon takes a bigger sip of water.
"Who is it?"
"Jace Lightwood."
Simon splutters, some water spilling from his bottle and down onto his shirt, and he jumps up, Dot starting to giggle as he curses.
"Shit," he says, wiping at the water, then straightens up. "I'll handle it, Dot. Thank you. Close the door, please?" he asks her and she nods, taking her food out to her desk and pulling the door shut behind her.
Simon takes a few deep breaths and picks up the phone, clicking into the line and fiddling with a pen on his desk.
"Hello, Jace," he says, trying to play it cool, but even he can hear the tremble in his voice a little bit. "How's it going?"
There's a pause, but Simon can hear breathing on the other end. Finally, Jace speaks up.
"Why don't you come over and find out?"
"W-what?" Simon asks, losing his balance a bit at the question and leaning on the top of his desk for support. "What d'you mean?"
"Exactly that. I want you to come over."
"Why?" Simon asks, completely caught off guard.
"So you can find out how I am."
"Jace, listen - "
"Come alone," Jace says, ignoring whatever Simon was about to say. "I'll be alone, too. Tell you what, I'll even leave the door open for you, since you already know your way in."
"Jace, if this is about - "
"Please."
The word is quiet, so quiet Simon isn't sure if he even heard it. Or if Jace even said it. They're both quiet for a moment, and Simon takes a deep breath.
"O-okay," he says, then, "you know, Jace, you do sound cute when you're begging."
Simon slaps his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide, and squeals, not sure why he said that. He doesn't even mean that. Obviously.
"I, I mean I'll be there at eight!" Simon yells, hanging up the phone, and stares down at the water stain still drying on his shirt, grabbing his briefcase quickly and shoving papers inside it.
He asks Dot to reschedule the rest of his meetings to tomorrow, texting Clary and Magnus in the elevator to meet him at home.
"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" Clary asks, watching Simon from the driver's seat, and he nods, staring at the door of the Lightwood house, their car pulled up out front.
The porch light is on, as are a few of the lights downstairs. Only one window is lit upstairs, and Simon can guess well enough whose room it is, having already been in there before.
He looks at Clary, then at Magnus in the passenger's seat, and he nods, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah, I'll be alright. He asked me to come alone, so I am. I'm gonna give him the ring back though," Simon adds, glancing down at it, twisting it with his free hand.
"Good idea," Magnus says. "But if we don't hear from you soon, we're coming back, whether you or Jace want us to or not."
Simon can't help but breathe a small sigh of relief at that.
"Thanks, guys," he says.
Clary reaches out her hand and Simon takes it, giving it a light squeeze, then steps from the car, buttoning up his jacket and slowly starting up the front walk.
He's changed suits since work. Magnus helped pick it out, opting for something dark. Simon can't help but notice how it makes the ring on his hand stick out, the gold band shimmering as he reaches for the doorbell, then remembers what Jace said about leaving it open.
He glances back over his shoulder, Clary and Magnus not having moved from their spot parked against the curb, and gives them a small wave, opening the front door and gently stepping inside.
The front hall is bright and everything is quiet, Simon wincing as the door shuts a bit too loud behind him, clearing his throat as he takes a few steps in, looking around.
"Jace?" he calls, hearing the faint sound of water running upstairs, and he pauses to listen.
The pipes creak as the water shuts off about a minute later, Simon hearing the sound of footsteps traveling across the floor, and he calls out again.
"Jace? It's Simon."
Simon bites his lip, pulling out his phone and unlocking it, considering texting Clary and turning back, until he hears the sound of a door opening.
"I'm upstairs. You can come up."
"O-okay," Simon says, taking a deep breath and slowly heading up to Jace's room, through the open door, nearly tripping over himself when he sees Jace standing there.
He's next to his bed, combing his hair, dripping wet down his neck and back, in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. He sets his comb aside and crosses his arms over his chest, Simon blinking quickly, neither of them speaking at first.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Simon says, shutting his eyes, wishing he would just stop saying words altogether.
Jace snorts, a smile on his lips, and he shrugs.
"Well, I guess I should be. Seeing as how we're boyfriends now and all," he says, and Simon chokes, coughing to clear his throat.
"Um, yeah, about that... "
"Go look behind you. There, on the dresser," Jace says, motioning off to the side, and Simon turns, finding a stack of magazines piled next to all the photo frames.
Simon pulls off the top one and grins. It's The Jade Wolf Daily, and there's a split image of Jace and Simon on the front.
Everything You Need to Know About Jimon: the Official Scoop. the headline reads, and Simon lets out a loud laugh.
"Jimon? Is that what they're calling us now?" he asks, flipping to the main article, written by Maia, and full of photographs by Gretel. "Well, at least they didn't misquote me."
"Simon."
"Jace."
"You seem quite amused by all this," Jace says, coming closer, and Simon feigns innocence, shrugging as if he doesn't know what Jace is talking about. Though of course, Jace is absolutely right.
"And you seem a bit bothered by all this," Simon counters, crossing his arms, and Jace is so close now that Simon can smell his shampoo, can see droplets of water in the tips of his hair.
"Hot and bothered, maybe."
Simon lets out a high-pitched noise he wasn't even aware he could make, Jace's response throwing him for a loop, Simon reaching back and holding onto the wall to keep himself upright, Jace filling his entire field of vision.
And Simon can't help but stare.
He notices the way Jace's eyes are shining, full of adventure and want; the perfect pink of his lips, so close to Simon's; the way his shoulders and chest are perfectly defined.
Simon can feel his cheeks growing hotter by the second, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as Jace reaches for his hand, their fingertips gently brushing together before Jace runs his thumb slowly across the ring's gold band.
Jace presses their foreheads together, their noses almost touching, and Simon can feel his hands beginning to tremble as he reaches up and gently touches Jace's wrist.
"I'm gonna need you to give the ring back, Simon," Jace whispers, staring at their hands, and Simon tries to catch his breath.
"I'm gonna need you to make me," he whispers back, and then their lips are pressing firmly together, all tongue and teeth as Jace's arms go around him in a tight embrace, guiding him forward.
Simon runs his hands along Jace's naked torso, feeling the soft, muscled skin there as Jace turns them around quickly, working to get Simon's jacket off and throwing it into a crumpled heap on the floor, Jace pushing him backwards until Simon's knees hit the mattress, toppling over.
Simon pushes himself up further on the bed, Jace climbing on top of him and settling between his legs, Simon's eyes falling closed as their lips meet again, softer this time, though still just as urgent.
Simon reaches his hand up, running his fingers through Jace's damp hair, and Jace makes quick work of unbuttoning Simon's shirt, pulling it from his body and tossing it somewhere forgotten over his shoulder.
Simon puts his hand on the back of Jace's neck and pulls him in closer, his legs going around Jace's waist as he tips his head up, Jace pressing hot, wet kisses along Simon's jawline, licking and sucking his way slowly down Simon's neck, teasing.
In one fluid motion, Jace presses himself down against Simon, his teeth sinking into Simon's neck where it meets his shoulder, their bodies flush together. Simon tightens his hold around Jace's waist, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he drags his nails down Jace's back, giving in and letting out a long, loud moan.
Something that he'd evidently find himself doing for the rest of the night.
Simon is the first one awake the next morning. He's burrowed under a mountain of blankets, slightly cold and still very naked. He peeks out from under the covers and yawns, blinking slowly and rubbing his eyes. Jace is asleep peacefully next to him, lying on his stomach, sunlight filtering in from the partially open curtains, highlighting his golden hair and making it glow. Simon smiles sleepily, turning over onto his side and reaching for his phone, checking his messages.
He'd texted Clary and Magnus last night between... sessions... Clary seeming a bit surprised by the turn of events but not Magnus, having used a colorful array of emojis to show Simon just exactly what he should do with Jace.
Even now they make Simon laugh as he once again reads through the conversation, feeling the bed dip beside him as Jace's arm wounds around his waist, curling into Simon as he mumbles.
"Morning," Jace says through a yawn, Simon setting his phone back down and pressing himself up against Jace.
"Good morning," he repeats, leaning in and kissing Jace softly, earning a quiet sigh in return, both of them smiling.
"How are you feeling?" Jace asks, Simon burrowing into the crook of his neck and involuntarily shivering.
"Cold," Simon whines, kissing Jace's cheek. "Tired. And hungry. But amazing," he says, and it's true. The way Jace made him feel last night was indescribable, something he's never truly felt before, not with anybody else. "And you?" he asks, and Jace laughs, rubbing at his own eyes.
"The same," he says, and Simon hums in response, both of them falling quiet and laying there together, not moving, listening to the sound of birds outside and the occasional car rushing by on the street.
Simon can feel his body warming up thanks to Jace, his eyes growing heavy again, and soon they're both dozing off, waking up only a few minutes later when Jace's alarm clock starts going off.
He groans, reaching over to shut it off, and sits up, Simon joining him. They take one look at each other's messy hair and lose it, Simon smoothing his down with his hands as he shakes from laughter, standing up to hunt for his underwear, pouting at his wrinkled clothes.
"You can borrow something of mine," Jace states, slipping into a fresh pair of boxers, and motions to the bathroom. "Shower's in there, fresh towels and everything, feel free to take your time. Alec and Izzy will be here in about an hour, though. Anything specific you want for breakfast?" he asks, and Simon wrinkles his nose, tapping his chin as if he's pretending to think.
He reaches out and grabs Jace's hand, pulling him towards the bathroom door and leading him inside. "You," he says, with a huge grin, and Jace laughs, kicking off his boxers once again and starting up the overhead spray.
Simon thinks it's the most interesting shower he's ever taken.