Work Text:
“I found the baby box my mom made!!”
Jace looks up from where he’s sitting on the sofa , staring at his boyfriend who is holding a wooden box, “Baby pics?”
Simon chuckles, “All the way till 12 years old, more or less.”
He makes grabby hands, “Gimme!!!!”
The box is set down onto the coffee table and Jace wastes no time as he pounces on it, the words Simon Lewis are engraved onto the wood in fancy letters and Simon trails his fingers over it as he grabs a rag and wipes away the layer of dust collected on top.
“Where’d you even find this?”
His boyfriend shrugs, “Bubbie Helen’s moving back to New York and Becky found it while she was helping her pack.” He shifts until he’s sitting on the floor in between Jace’s leg and the blond rests his chin on top of his head, “Shall we?”
The first thing they take out is one of those small canvases, 2 tiny red footprints stamped across it, Simon Lewis scrawled across in that calligraphy font Clary likes to use, the date “October 20 1990” is written on the back of the frame.
Jace can hear the smile in his boyfriend’s voice as he speaks, “That was the day they brought me back from the hospital. It was tradition, I’m pretty sure Becky has her set somewhere too.”
Jace hums and reaches for an envelope, only to grab it by the wrong side and he yelps as a whole lot of Dragon Ball Z playing cards tumble out onto the table.
Simon rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment as he gathers the cards up, “Yeah I kinda had an obsession…” Jace chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, “I think it’s cute,” He smirks as Simon blushes at the statement.
The next thing he pulls out is a packet of what seems to be necklaces, he senses Simon stiffening under him and pulls him up until he’s sitting on the sofa, back against Jace’s chest.
He pulls out one of the necklace, threading it through his fingers, there’s a flat misshapen pendant or something dangling on it, “My dad used to wear out his guitar picks a lot and he hated throwing them away so he used to pierce a hole through it and make it into a necklace for me or Becky.”
Jace pulls him closer, pressing what he hopes is a comforting kiss to Simon’s neck.
“He’d be proud of you Si, I know it.”
“I wish he could’ve met you, you would have loved him,”
Jace nuzzles into his hair, “I wish I could’ve met him too.”
They sift through the box a bit more, one of Simon’s old baby shoes popping up and Jace decides to hang it on the rearview mirror in their car, not that he tells Simon. A bunch of drawings Simon did in kindergarten and Jace can’t help but coo over Tiny Simon’s horrible drawing skills, Clary was definitely the artist between the two. There’s old certificates from summer camps and Boy Scouts and report cards from elementary school and old toys that Simon had forgotten about.
There’s the wristband from the time Simon broke his arm and a piece of paper with dates of Simon’s firsts written on it. His first word, his first steps, his first trip to the beach and such and Jace laughs himself silly at Simon’s recounting of his first word was “Fuck” because Bubbie Helen kept saying it around him all the time. There’s birthday cards and Simon’s ultrasound and a messily scrawled recipe for Matzah Ball Soup that he’d done for Show and Tell in kindergarten.
There’s another box, filled to the brim with seashells that Simon and his sister had picked up along the way and Jace is already planning ways to bribe Clary into painting a couple for Simon when Simon pulls out 3 fat albums full of what Jace presumes is photos.
And photos they are.
Photos of Simon at camp, tanned and freckled, wearing a hat that is clearly too big for him as he stands around with a bunch of other kids. Pictures of Simon at school, backpack zipped, lunch bag swinging in one hand as he shoots a gap-toothed smile at the camera. There’s pictures of Simon at the beach, being thrown into the air by his father, smiling at the camera, ice cream smeared all over his face, pictures of him and Clary seemingly demolishing a sand castle and sitting on a carousel.
There’s middle school Simon, glasses askew, hair curlier than ever before, Clary standing next to him, tie dyed tees and Vans. Simon and Clary, covered in flour, sheepishly looking at the camera, obviously some baking disaster.
They come across the last one and Jace screams with laughter at seeing it.
Simon’s seems to be around 6 at the time the picture is taken, he’s on the beach, covered in sand, Becky sitting next to him, half buried in sand as he beams at the camera, brown hair glowing under the afternoon sun, one hand holding a shovel while the other one is resting on his sister’s shoulder.
Jace doubles over in laughter, his head resting in between Simon’s shoulder blades as he tries to rein his giggles in. “It’s not funny!!” Simon complains as he wriggles out of Jace’s arms, sitting on the other end of the sofa, glaring at the blond.
Jace tries to speak but he gets 2 words in before he’s bursting into laughter again. “I’m sorry babe but this is going up on the mantle.”
He takes a glance at the picture again, “You were such a tiny precious child Lewis.”
He pauses and regards Simon again, “Well, to be honest, you’re still a tiny precious child.”
“I am 21 years old and at least an inch taller than you!!!”
“I don’t think height can give you any leverage in this argument.”
And hence, the bickering ensues.