Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simon had 8 am classes every day except Tuesdays. He’s pretty sure he was being way too optimistic when he was registering for classes. So here he is, first day of classes, struggling to comprehend advanced economics. Maybe he should have been an arts student like Clary. She had no classes before 10 am. He fiddled with the coffee in his hand, peeling back the cardboard sleeve.

There was something written on the cup below the sleeve. He slid it down.

Sermon

He rubbed his bleary eyes and looked again. Still the same.

Simon groaned, pulling the cup sleeve back up. Sure, he mumbled a bit in the mornings (and the afternoons, and when he was sleepy, and, well… all the time according to Clary). But Sermon? Really? That wasn’t even… Okay, maybe it sounded a little like his name. But what normal person would name their kid Sermon? The lecture started back up and he gave up on trying to figure out the misspelling. It probably wouldn’t happen again, what were the odds?

-

Saruman

He frowned at the writing on his cup, wondering if he could get a refund for the offence. Seriously. Did he look like an evil wizard? Or even close to being an old dude with a super long beard.

-

“I have a coffee for… Syncophant?” Simon stared at the barista. He was the only person in the shop. But…Syncophant, seriously? He glanced at the time on his phone and swore, grabbing the coffee and taking off. He didn’t have time to be offended, his Advertising class started in two minutes and the shop was at least 10 minutes away.

He didn’t notice the barista snickering at him as he leaves.

-

“Oh come on.” Simon glared at the cup like it was personally offending him. Which it was. So…

“What’s wrong?” Maureen, his bandmate and fellow sufferer of 8am Labour Economics lectures, was looking over at him with concern.

He turned his cup to face her in response.

She snickered, glancing up at the prof to make sure he hadn’t noticed.

“Did you piss off the barista or something?”

“I haven’t even spoken to him!” Simon frowned at her, “Except to order coffee. But seriously, I’ve been getting cups with my name misspelled since the beginning of the semester.”

“Sabrina, though,” She laughed at hi, “That one’s new.”

“Don’t-“ Simon was starting to get a bad feeling.

“Sounds like your new nickname!” Her eyes gleamed and he groaned, head dropping to the table.

-

Simon was going to fix this. He was going to clearly enunciate his name. At 7 in the morning. It was happening.

He stepped up to the counter.

“One extra large black coffee.”

“Can I get a name?”

“Simon.”

“That’ll be two dollars and seventy five cents.” The barista was writing on a cup. Simon craned his neck to read the beginnings of what looked like… Steve.

“Um. It’s Simon….” He handed over two dollar bills.

The barista looked up at him. It registered (belatedly), that the barista was actually pretty hot.

“Oh I’m sorry,” the barista sounded sarcastic. His name tag read Raphael. Their eyes met, and Simon noted that Raphael had very long eyelashes.

The moment ended as Raphael took his money and rung it in, setting the cup aside, writing facing away from Simon.

Simon declined his change and stepped back to wait.

“A large coffee for Slimey.” The barista looked straight at him and smirked.

Simon tried to ignore how hot the guy was in favour of glowering, taking his coffee and stalking (Raphael later claimed that he was flouncing) out of the shop.

-

His newfound attraction for the barista was not helping with his quest to get the (attractive) barista to spell his name right. Maureen just laughed at him when he complained, telling him to suck it up. Jace (who was currently trying very hard to get into Clary’s pants and was therefore hanging around when Simon brought it up) told him to ask out the barista next time, killing two birds with one solution. Clary advised that he do what he thought was best and maybe let the name thing go.

Simon wondered if he could put an ad out on campus for new and more helpful friends.

-

“Coffee for Brian?” Simon tries to glower at the barista’s smirk (and fails miserably, though he wouldn’t admit it).

“It’s Simon.” He took his coffee.

“Alright then, Siphon.”

Simon considered flipping him off, but decided against it, choosing to stalk out of the coffee shop yet again.

-

“Hymen? I have a large coffee for Hymen?” Simon groaned as a group of girls in the corner stared at him and started to giggle.

He refused to even look at the barista as he collected his order.

-

“I have a large coffee for Smithers?”

“That doesn’t even-“ Simon gives up on spluttering when he sees the barista’s smirk widen.

-

“Coffee for Triton?”

Simon’s about 70% certain that the barista is doing this on purpose. He sees him four days a week. The barista can’t possibly have hearing that bad.

-

It’s a Wednesday, almost at the end of the semester, when someone finally gets his name right. The barista, the one that still can’t remember his name Is absent, leaving a pale girl who’s name tag reads Camille to serve him coffee. Simon resolutely doesn’t wonder where his barista is.

“A large coffee for Simon?”

He takes his coffee and pauses when a familiar voice comes from behind him.

“You should complain, Sheila , she got your name wrong.”

“You!” Simon turns with a scowl.

“Yes me. You know, Santa, you're kind of dense.”

Simon doesn't even know how to respond to that one, and settles on leaning back against the counter. The other barista-Camille- is watching them as she clears out the coffee filter.

“I mean, I’ve been putting my number on the bottoms of your cups for weeks. A frat boy prank called me last week asking if I wanted to go on a ride on his bike.” The barista (not his barista) is giggling from behind the counter.

“You…have?” Simon blinked confusedly.

“Well, duh.”

“He has a stash of cups with his number already written on the bottom just for you,” the other barista add.

“You-“ Simon can feel his face warming, “Well how should I have known there was a number there. Its not like I check the bottom of all my coffee cups for secret messages.”

“I have been serving you coffee for two and a half months! That's like 40 cups, with at least 40 of them with my number on them,” The barista is frowning, “I would have thought that you’d see at least one of them! Unless you're actually an idiot.”

“I am not an idiot!. You're the idiot who can't even remember my name. And what kind of weirdo puts their number on the bottoms of coffee cups anyways?”

"Ooooh lover's quarrel," the girl behind the counter has given up any pretence of doing actual work and is leaning on her elbows on the counter behind them.

"We're not-" Simon starts to protest.

"Yet. We're not lovers yet." His barista is grinning at them and Simon feels another flutter of attraction, "Would you like to be?"

"Um-" Simon flushes.

"That is to say, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"What's my name?" Simon frowns at him.

"Why? Did you forget your own name?"

"No, I just want to know if you'll actually remember it or if I should spare myself the indignity."

"Raphael, quit teasing him already." The girl behind the counter sounds stern, and Raphael rolls his eyes at her.

"Its Simon. Duh."

"If you already know my name, why do you keep writing weird stuff on my cups?"

"Well. The first time was a mistake, but after that… it was funny." A grin.

"I-You- I can't believe you! My bandmates all call me Sabrina because of you!"

"That's hilarious. But seriously, go for dinner with me on Friday?" Raphael is grinning, teeth glinting in the light.

"I-"

"Say yes, you know you want to."

"I-oh, fuck it. Fine. But you owe me. And if you call me by one wrong name, I am leaving."

Raphael laughs at him.

"What's your number." Camille is laughing too now. Simon thinks his question was perfectly logical.

"It's on the bottom of your cup, cutie." Camille points out, and he blushes when he notices the numbers scrawled on the bottom in sharpie.

"Text me," Raphael smirks and then he's gone, leaving Simon to stare after him for a minute before breaking out into profanity. He's missed like half of his lecture.

Chapter Text

Raphael is absent for the rest of the week, and Simon almost feels nostalgic every time he hears his own name being called when he goes to get coffee.

Clary tells him he should make sure to order something without garlic. Jace just laughs at him and congratulates him before telling him not to be too much of a loser. Simon isn't sure whether he should even bother to show up.

On Thursday he texted Raphael, and got an address and a time in response.

Alec just looks at him like he's a bug on his windshield when Simon starts rambling after their shared statistics course. Magnus throws an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder and assures Simon that he'll be fine. He also says something about deep breaths and wearing tight pants, but Simon is pretty sure taking Magnus's advice on dating is inadvisable. Sure, Alec is objectively very hot, but he's also grumpy 99% of the time. And has awful fashion sense for a gay person. He ignores the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Clary telling him that ironic glasses and flannel isn't much better. Besides that, Magnus was a notorious party boy before he'd settled down with Alec, and Simon is pretty sure that anything Magnus would suggest he do would definitely not work for him. At all. Because he was kind of an awkward nerd (Isabelle's words).

Maureen spaces out and starts drooling and Simon really doesn't want to know where her mind just went.

-

He turns up to the address Raphael sent 20 minutes early and sits across the street from the chinese place, wondering if he could maybe just leave. He had an exam Monday. And another one on Tuesday. He could just text Raphael. And not-

"Hey," Raphael appears right beside him and Simon jumps.

"Um. Hi. You." Simon's pretty sure it's impossible to spontaneously sink through the pavement. That doesn't stop him from wishing he would.

"Me." Eyes gleaming with amusement, Raphael gestures at the door to the restaurant, "I saw you waffling out here and figured I'd come and get you."

"Yes- Thanks. It's-um- Hi." Maybe he could get Alec to shoot him. If he annoyed him sufficiently, it would probably happen.

"C'mon, Salem." Simon digs his feet in at the name, frown already forming on his face.

"I told you-!"

"Oh relax Simon, just a bit of harmless teasing." Raphael smiles at him, and Simon wonders how someone so awful could look so attractive.

"…Fine," Simon follows Raphael into the restaurant, nodding to the server who is greeting Raphael like an old friend. They're guided to a booth, and Simon takes a look at the menu he's handed, noting that they have really inexpensive cocktails.

"So, Simon," Raphael has already closed his menu, and is looking at him across the table, "How has your week been?"

"Torturous?" Simon shrugs, "8 am is way too early. Still."

"You'd think you would have adjusted by now," Raphael is grinning and Simon starts to relax. It occurs to him, the perfect way to get his revenge.

"Well, Rophael," Simon conceals a smirk at Raphael's surprised look, "You'd think so, but nope."

"Well, well, well, you have more bite to you than I thought," Raphael leans forward over the table, and Simon grins.

"Well I wasn't going to deal with your stupid names forever, Raphyal."

"I don't know when you got a backbone but," Raphael leans even further over the table and his voice deepens. Simon feels a shiver of desire run up his spine, "I think I like it."

Raphael kisses him, but pulls back abruptly just as the server is coming back.

"Can I get you two some drinks to start?" Her hair is dyed blue and she has tattoos down her left arm. Simon's mind is still reeling from the kiss.

"I'll have a Bloody Mary and I think Simon will try…hmmm. How about some Vampire Blood?" Raphael smirks at him and it occurs to Simon that he can never tell Jace that his suggestion had worked. Never.