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Simon has learned a lot about Raphael Santiago in the time he’s lived at the Hotel Dumort. He’s learned that Raphael can play the piano and sing. He’s learned that Raphael hates italian food, especially garlic bread. Simon doesn’t understand how, but he’s accepted it, because that’s how Raphael is, and Simon loves him anyways. He’s also learned that Raphael furrows his brows when he’s deep in thought and licks his lips when he wants to kiss him.
He’s learned that Raphael gets extremely cuddly when he’s tired.
Simon isn’t complaining. Not when he gets to look down every day and see Raphael, laying in front of him, gripping his shirt loosely, his face pressed to Simon’s chest. Not when he can thread his fingers in Raphael’s dark hair and soothe him. Especially, not when he can wrap his arms around Raphael and pull him close, keeping him safe, even for a short period of time.
No, Simon isn’t complaining at all.
The only problem is when Raphael decides he wants to sleep in the middle of the day. Sleeping means cuddling and cuddling means that Simon has to stay in bed with his boyfriend for the remainder of the day. Which means Simon has no one to talk to.
So, when Raphael decided it was time to sleep at noontime, Simon was in a bit of a pickle. Raphael grabbed Simon by the arm and brought him to their room, promptly plopping down on the bed and yawning. Apparently, leading a vampire clan is a lot more strenuous than one would think.
“Raphael?” Simon whispered, after four minutes of silence had gone by. “Are you still awake?”
Raphael made a soft grunt, acknowledging Simon’s question. He curled up to Simon’s chest more and tightened his grip on his shirt.
“Okay, good, because I can’t sleep.” He bit his lip slightly, awaiting Raphael’s response.
“Have you tried to go to sleep?” Raphael sighed quietly. Simon frowned. He didn’t exactly try to go to sleep. He never tried to go to sleep actually. Even as a mundane, he always ended up passing out at his laptop, a can of Mountain Dew clutched in his hand.
So, Simon tried. He closed his eyes and dropped his head against the pillow. He tried getting comfortable, squirming this way and that to get the perfect position on the bed. With a final flail, he felt his arm come into contact with someone. Raphael.
“Simon.” Raphael looked up at his fledgling, more awake than he had been just a minute ago.
“Shit, Raphael, I. . . I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it I swear. Are you okay? I. . .” Simon trailed off, a smile growing on his face. He was sure that if, life was a cartoon, the lightbulb would be above his head.
“Simon, what are you doing?” Raphael mumbled, as Simon started peppering his face with kisses.
“Kissing it better.” He muttered against Raphael’s cheek, placing another tender kiss there before moving onto his boyfriend’s lips.
Simon never got tired of kissing Raphael. He could do it everyday and he’d never get bored. Raphael would always snake his arms around Simon and pull on his hair gently, while Simon caressed Raphael’s face. It was normally nice and chaste, and they never took it further than kissing. Simon didn’t want to push Raphael into a part of their relationship he wasn’t comfortable with yet.
That day though, Raphael wasn’t having it. He pushed Simon away with the little strength he could muster and turned on his side.
“Go to sleep, baby.” He groaned, snuggling with the pillow instead of Simon.
Pouting, Simon laid on his back and stared at the ceiling.
“Raphael?”
“What?”
“Do we sparkle?” Raphael turned back to Simon, his gaze incredulous.
“Do we what?” His voice was low and dangerous, as if Simon had just brought dishonor to the clan.
“Sparkle. Like in Twilight.” Simon explained. “You know, the vampires in that movie sparkle in the sun.”
“We don’t sparkle, idiota, we die. Now, go to sleep.” Raphael went back to his original position on Simon’s chest and Simon put an arm around him, faintly sighing once more.
Simon closed his eyes and tried sleeping again, but to no avail. He glanced down at Raphael, who was still somewhat awake.
“Raphael?”
“What now?” Raphael said sharply.
“Why are all your sheets black? Do you not like color?” Simon whispered.
Raphael cast a glare Simon’s way, “I like sleep.”
“But how do our fangs work? Are they like straws or do we use them to get the blood and then lick it up?”
Simon waited for a response that never came.
“Raphael?”