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Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
Jace asks, “Have you eaten?” and drags Simon to Taki’s when he shakes his head no. He reminds Simon to bring his flask wherever they go and keep it in his bag for safekeeping. He reminds Simon to stock up on blood bags because his supply was low, often going over to the DuMort to get it himself, all while texting Simon on how he had to start being more responsible about stocking up on his food.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
Instead, he texts, “Have you gotten home safe?” and sends a thumbs up when Simon responds. He makes sure to check up on Simon after a hard mission and more often than not, he convinces Simon to stay over at the Institute for the night and Simon wakes up the following morning with strong arms cocooning him and warm breath ghosting across the back of his neck.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
Instead, he forces Simon to go to sleep when he thinks the vampire looks dead on his feet (he’s used that pun far too many times for it to be funny anymore but Simon doesn’t have the heart to stop him.) He smothers him in blankets and threatens to tell on him to Clary until the vampire acquiesces and snuggles in. Soon enough, Jace joins him.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
Instead, he teaches Simon how to wield blades and dodge punches. He spends hours and hours with him in the training room, endlessly patient as he fixes Simon’s stance for the 20th time and tells him to start over. He sits and pores over the different demons with Simon in the library, writing down notes when Simon’s too tired to do it himself. He teaches Simon the different piano chords, his hands warm and solid over Simon’s as he guides his fingers over the keys.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
He lets Simon feed off him. He’s bleeding out, deep red gashes running diagonally across his chest, his head on Jace’s lap, the blond thrusting his wrist into his face, pleading him to feed. He shakes his head and Jace pleads harder. Finally, instinct takes over and his fangs snap out and sink into the flesh, greedily taking as much as possible before he comes to his senses and pulls away like he’s been burned and Jace, always unafraid, cups his face and presses his lips to Simon’s forehead before helping him up. And then proceeds to lecture him on jumping in front of demons to keep the others safe all the way to the institute while the rest of the group watches on in amusement.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
Jace calls him “nerd” and “dork” and has him saved as “Count von Count” on his phone because he’s a little shit like that. He calls him “Lewis” and “Count Chocula” when training, and “Edward Cullen” when he catches Simon staring when they’re cuddling. And Simon would poke him in the ribs and he’d squirm away and frown until he decides to stop depriving himself of cuddles and dives back into Simon’s arms.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
He boops Simon’s nose when he thinks the other’s sleeping and pats him on the head when they pass each other. He runs his fingers through Simon’s hair after a long day and bumps their shoulders when they walk, their pinky fingers linked together. He knows all of Simon’s ticklish spots and will not hesitate to use them as a ploy to cheer Simon up, even if it ends with Simon begging for mercy as he tries to get away from Jace’s torturous fingers.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
But he plays the piano for Simon, Chopin’s Nocturnes ringing out in the otherwise silent room as Simon allows himself to lean into Jace and listen, captivated by the way Jace seems to bring the piano to life. Sometimes, Jace plays some of his own and those are Simon’s favorite. He would close his eyes as the music washes over him and allows himself to be lulled to sleep. Later, he’d wake up in his bed, Jace curled up next to him and he'd smile and run a hand through the blond’s hair, humming a familiar tune under his breath.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
But he dances with Simon in their kitchen at midnight, a grin playing on his lips as he dips him, pressing a quick kiss to the younger boy’s lips. He’d have dance sessions in the privacy of their bedroom, jumping on the bed until it breaks, which earns them a suggestive glance from a smug Magnus as he comes by to fix the bed. He’d serenade Simon at the most inopportune times: in the grocery store, in the middle of Central Park and even in the middle of Java Jones, much to the other customers' amusement.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
But he buys albums that he knows Simon’s been looking for and brings home tiny porcelain monkeys because he knows Simon loves them. Sometimes, he buys leather bound books and fairy lights from the flea market and leaves them on the table for Simon to find.
Jace doesn’t say “I love you.”
He holds Simon through the night, singing soft lullabies when his mother’s voice calling him a monster echoes around his ears. He makes him hot chocolate infused with blood and puts on Brooklyn Nine-Nine till Simon falls asleep again.
Jace doesn’t have to say “I love you.”
Because he shows it. In the way he brushes Simon’s hair out of his face. In the way he’s there for every single one of Simon’s gigs no matter how tired he is. In the way he sends pictures of frogs to Simon at the most random times because they reminded him of Simon. In the way he trusts Simon to know what he’s doing on missions (though it doesn’t stop him from worrying). He shows it all the time. With every kiss, every hug, every lingering touch. With every shoulder squeeze and inside joke.
And honestly… Simon doesn’t need him to.