Work Text:
It’s 3am and Simon wants to die.
Well, not in the most dramatic sense of the word. Like, he isn’t standing on the edge of a bridge ready to jump or taking a bunch of pills or whatever. He’s somewhere worse than that; at Java Jace.
And, okay, he usually likes the little cozy coffee shop. Jace really made something out of it, having moved to an actual building several months ago instead of working from a food truck. He had employed Clary, Izzy and him to help with orders and with baking (he had added that to his shop once they had an actual kitchen available, which was nice but also meant early mornings baking muffins and making brownies) but he had recently also come up with a delivery service around town. And that delivery was open 24/7.
And of course Simon got the night shift.
Normally Clary was the one driving around town on her scooter delivering coffee and snacks to night crawlers. Simon suspected her only doing it because Izzy had the night shift as well and they could secretly sneak kisses in the empty shop between orders, but she had fallen sick the night before and Simon was called upon to take over her shift that night.
He’s sitting at the counter, clutching a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand and scrolling through Tumblr with the other one. At least there’s great Wi-Fi here. Izzy is playing tic-tac-toe and humming along to the music softly playing in the background. There’s an easy silence between them, one that can only exist after years of friendship.
Simon remembers thinking that he loved Isabelle. No, that’s not right. He still does love her, but he remembers thinking that he was in love with her. But Isabelle had turned him down when he’d asked her to move in with him, in tears and extremely upset. Simon, being Simon, hadn’t even taken the time to feel rejected before comforting her and asking why she was crying, and after prying for a bit she had admitted that she thought she was in love with Clary.
It probably wasn’t normal ex-boyfriend behavior of him to try and set them up, but he did it anyway because he just wanted both of them to be happy. So he had taken them on a few double dates, taking an awkward looking Jace as his date even though it felt really weird basically swapping partners with his best friend like a couple of swingers. He and Jace thankfully remained just friends, but Isabelle and Clary blossomed into something more.
That had been a few months ago. The two girls have been going steady ever since and Jace met Meliorn only a bit later, coming to Simon with flushed cheeks asking advice about dating boys. Simon had felt really smug about it – being the one to give Jace relationship advice for once, despite having remained single after breaking up with Isabelle except for the occasional hook-up after one of his gigs. Which reminds him of a really attractive guy who had given him his number a few nights ago and maybe he should give him a call –
Simon is snapped out of his plans to get laid in the near future by Isabelle slamming down a paper bag in front of his face, eyes dark with exhaustion.
“Order for hotel Dumort,” she prompts, voice flat.
Simon groans and jumps off his bar stool, taking the order with him as he drags himself outside into the cold. Honestly, having to drive around at night in the middle of summer wouldn’t be so bad, but of course it has to be winter and thus freezing outside.
Simon huffs and takes a moment to wrap his arms around himself, trying to get warm before hopping on his scooter with a sigh. Honestly, the hotel Dumort freaks him out. It’s an old hotel in the historic center of Brooklyn and despite it being a popular hotspot for tourists, Simon doesn’t like it one bit. He has heard one horror story too many about haunted hotel rooms and weird creatures lurking around it to be comfortable having to drive up there at 3am.
He wavers a bit upon arrival, staring at the front. There are still a few lights on, and he wonders what kind of hotel guest orders coffee from a local coffee shop instead of just calling room service. Probably the murdering kind. One that stuffs their victims in their mattress. After all, it can’t be a coincidence that the hotel is called the Dumort.
Simon gulps and almost turns around to go back to Java Jace, but he can’t just walk out on a customer like that. At least Jace won’t be able to say Simon hadn’t been a loyal friend at his funeral (his body never found, of course. Stuffed somewhere in a mattress).
So he takes a deep breath, prays that he won’t get murdered in a grim hotel room, and pushes open the doors leading into the lobby.
It takes a moment for Simon’s eyes to readjust to the dim lighting. He blinks a few times and then lets his eyes dart over the room, noticing the fancy furniture on the left, the old elevator right in front him and then the front desk on his right. There’s someone sitting behind it, so far he can tell judging from the dark hair peeking over the edge of it.
Simon doesn’t actually know the number of the room he’s supposed to deliver to, so he makes his way to the front desk to ask the receptionist if anyone has called down for coffee.
He clears his throat once he’s standing in front of the receptionist and the man sitting behind the front desk looks up, looking extremely bored and extremely attractive.
“Good evening,” the receptionist says after a heartbeat, a polite smile slipping onto his face, “how can I help you?”
“Uh,” Simon says smartly, his mouth suddenly dry. The boy behind the desk patiently waits for him to start talking, pen in hand.
“I’m a delivery boy from Java Jace,” Simon finally manages to blurt, “we got an order but no room number, so I don’t know where to deliver to.”
The polite smile on the boy’s face changes into a grin as he reaches out to take the order.
“So you’re the new delivery boy?” He asks as Simon hands him the order.
“I usually get coffee from Clary.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Well, she’s sick, so I’m covering her shift for her,” Simon explains, watching as the boy takes out his coffee and muffin. Then he looks back up at Simon, head slightly tilted.
“I know the polite thing to say would be ‘that’s a shame’, but you’re cuter than she is, so I don’t really mind her not being here.”
Simon can feel a blush creep up his neck and he ducks his head to hide it, awkwardly shuffling his feet.
“How much do I owe you?” The boy asks. Simon had almost forgotten to ask for payment. Thank god the boy seems to be more alert than he is.
“Seven dollars seventy five,” Simon replies, slightly proud that he didn’t stumble over his words once.
The boy hands him a tenner and tells him to keep the change, to which Simon smiles brightly. Tips are always welcome, especially when you’re working for minimum wage.
“Enjoy your coffee,” he says before turning around on his heels to walk away.
“Hey,” the boy behind the front desk calls out, “I didn’t catch your name.”
Simon turns back around to face him, suddenly feeling braver now that he’s put some distance between them.
“Ah, I guess you’ll have to order from us again to find out,” he winks, and the receptionist almost gapes at him.
Simon is just glad he doesn’t run into any doors as he makes his way outside, holding eye contact with the boy until the hotel door closes behind him and he’s back on the cold streets.
The biting winds does little to cool Simon’s burning cheeks, but he finds himself not caring.
*
Simon is in an excessively better mood the next night, impatiently waiting for the phone call that will send him on his way to the hotel. He’s thought a lot about the receptionist since last night, mostly about his dark eyes and soft-looking hair, and he’s looking forward to talking to him again tonight.
They get a few orders throughout the night Simon takes care of as quickly as he can, but it’s still 2:15am when Izzy gets a phone call and shoots him a bright grin before hanging up.
“Hotel Dumort,” she explains, turning around to prepare the order, “specifically asked for the cute delivery boy to bring his order.”
Simon’s cheeks burn up and he’s glad Izzy is standing with her back to him, otherwise she would’ve definitely teased him about his rosy cheeks. She fixes the coffee and puts a brownie in the bag with it, handing it over to Simon.
“You suddenly don’t seem to mind having the night shift,” she muses with a grin.
Simon shrugs as he stands.
“What can I say,” he grins as he moves to the door, “maybe you won’t be the only one getting some during night shift anymore.”
Izzy sputters in denial, but Simon has already pushed open the door to get onto his scooter.
His drive to the Dumort is distinctly shorter than last night. He may have sped a little, or maybe he stalled a little yesterday when he was still dreading the hotel. Either way, he arrives sooner than expected and contemplates whether or not to wait a little outside in order to not look desperate, but the freezing cold is convincing enough to chase him into the warmth of the lobby.
The receptionist immediately looks up when he hears Simon enter and shoots him a grin. Simon can feel the corners of his mouth pull up to mirror it as he walks towards the front desk, placing the order atop it.
“Delivery boy,” the boy says as a way of greeting. Simon laughs and bows his head.
“Receptionist,” he replies.
“Friends tend to call me Raphael,” the receptionist says. He takes the order and takes out his coffee, sipping it as he looks at Simon.
“Friends tend to call me Simon,” Simon says easily, leaning on the counter hoping it looks casual.
“Well, Simon. Why don’t you stay and talk for a while? You look like nice company.”
Simon is close to agreeing, but then he makes a face and sighs.
“I am, but I really can’t stay. I have to get back to Java Jace in case there are any more orders.”
Raphael looks amused when he takes a bite from his brownie. Simon stares at a crumb on his lip before Raphael licks it off.
“I’m sure the coffee shop is packed this time a day,” he says.
Simon chuckles.
“Yeah, it’s insane out there. They really can’t miss me. They need all the people they can get.”
“I can imagine. When’s your shift over tomorrow night?”
Simon has to whip out his phone to check.
“4am. Why?”
Raphael shrugs, taking another sip.
“I’ll just have to order my caramel macchiato a bit later, then. And then you can stay a little while longer. If you want to, of course.”
“I want to,” Simon assures him, maybe a bit too fast to be casual. Raphael smirks at him, darting his eyes from Simon’s face to his chest and up again.
“Cool. So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks.
“It’s a date!” Simon grins, not missing the surprised look on Raphael’s face before promptly walking out of the lobby.
His heart races in his chest when he gets back onto his scooter. Honestly, when did he get so forward with attractive guys?
Must be the lack of sleep.
*
“Clary is coming back tomorrow,” Simon announces the next night. They’re sitting on the expensive-looking-but-really-cozy-furniture and sipping the coffees Simon brought with him, and Raphael looks over his paper cup to frown at him.
“That’s a shame,” he says.
“Is it really, or are you just being polite?” Simon teases. It earns him a soft chuckle from the other boy.
“No, it really is. I like Clary, but – ”
“I’m hotter?” Simon finishes with a grin.
“Definitely hotter. Don’t tell her I said that, though, or she might stop giving me free donuts.”
“She gives you free donuts?!”
Raphael shrugs casually.
“Yeah. Maybe she has a crush on me.”
“Hah, nice try. Clary is as gay as Ellen Degeneres.”
Raphael leans back an grins.
“Cool, me too. Well, a slightly more male version, but still gay.”
Simon gulps and sits back too, trying to hide his reaction by sipping from his own coffee. He’d figured that Raphael had been flirting with him, but deep down he’d still been scared that it was some No Homo Just Dudes Being Dudes kind of bullshit. It had happened to him in the past, and Simon has the tendency to only learn from his mistakes when he’s made the same one about twenty times.
He realizes he’s been quiet for a bit too long, certainly after such a reveal on a delicate subject, so he quickly sits up again and blurts: “Ah, and I’m as pansexual as, uh, whichever celebrity is pansexual.”
“Billie Joe Armstrong?” Raphael tries, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Simon makes a dismissive hand gesture.
“He’s bi.” He chews his lip as he tries to come up with a nice comparison, and when he can’t find any he just sighs and says: “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be the first pansexual celebrity.”
“Oh yeah? How? I don’t think being a delivery boy is considered entertainment.”
“Very funny, Raphael,” Simon deadpans.
“I’ll have you know that I’m actually in a band, thank you very much. We’re quite good too, if I may say so myself.”
Raphael raises a perfect eyebrow and Simon follows the movement with curious eyes. Raphael seems to raise his eyebrows quite a lot, which is kind of amusing and also really cute.
“Really? Good enough to have any groupies?”
“I don’t know,” Simon says thoughtfully, “how about you come watch one of my gigs and tell me later?”
“My, my, delivery boy. Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe I am.”
Raphael lets his eyes travel over Simon’s body, an appreciative expression on his face as if he’s seeing right through his multiple layers of clothes.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” Raphael eventually says, when he locks eyes with Simon again.
“You know, to come see if you’re good enough to have any groupies.”
Simon’s mouth is dry again. He tries to take a sip of his coffee to see if that will help, but it only makes it worse.
He wants to say something else, about how he’s sure he’s good enough and that Raphael should just take his word for it, but they’re interrupted by someone walking into the lobby.
“Lily,” Raphael says, sounding surprised. The girl turns around to face them and quirks an eyebrow once she notices Simon. Huh. Must be an employee thing.
“Raphael, you know you’re not supposed to try to get laid with guests.”
“He’s not a guest,” Raphael replies smoothly, rising to his feet to greet her. The fact that he didn’t deny trying to get into Simon’s pants makes Simon fluster from neck to ears.
“What are you doing here so early?” He hears Raphael ask. Lily huffs a laugh.
“It’s 6am, Raph. I’m here to take over your shift.”
“Really? Already?”
“Mhh. I guess time flies when you’re having fun, right?” She says. And then, glancing over to his shoulder to look at Simon, “or shall I say: time flies when you’re sweet talking a cute boy?”
“I wasn’t sweet talking him,” Raphael counters, then shrugs, “we were merely discussing some music.”
Simon laughs at that and gets up too, walking over to the two others to say goodbye.
“Well, I guess I better get going,” he tells Raphael, who almost looks… disappointed. As if the night went by way too quickly. Simon has to say he agrees.
“You didn’t give me your number,” he says before Simon can walk out.
“Oh, but I did,” Simon smirks.
“I wrote it on your cup.”
“Really? The oldest barista trick in the manual?” Raphael complains. Simon laughs and winks before walking away.
*
[From: Raphael, 2:23am]
Clary didn’t bring any donuts. I’m guessing you have something to do with that?
[To: Raphael, 2:24am]
It’s 2:30am I’m asleep
[From: Raphael, 2:26am]
Can’t believe sleep-texting is one of your many talents
[To: Raphael, 2:29am]
It is. I have many more where that came from
[From: Raphael, 2:32am]
Am I supposed to ask ‘like what?’ with a wink emoji now?
[To: Raphael, 2:34am]
Yeah, and then I’m supposed to say ‘come see one of my gigs and you’ll find out’ but since you kinda fucked that up now: I’m playing tomorrow night
[From: Raphael, 2:37am]
What if there are too many groupies? Like, a wall of them? Mhh? How am I supposed to come see you then
[To: Raphael, 2:39am]
We’re not THAT good
[From: Raphael, 2:42am]
Already taking back your words? Don’t know how much I’m supposed to believe
Simon grunts and stares at his phone screen, eventually just choosing to dial Raphael’s number instead of squinting at his bright screen in the middle of the night.
Raphael picks up after one ring, a smile sounding through his voice when he says Simon’s name.
“Stop flirting with me,” Simon grumbles.
“Oh? Why the sudden turn of events?” Raphael wonders, tone light.
“”Cause it’s 2:45 and ‘m tired,” Simon yawns, pressing his face into his pillow. He isn’t sure Raphael heard him, but then he hears him chuckling lightly.
“Alright, alright. I’ll let you sleep.”
“Mhhh,” Simon smiles, “you know exactly what to say to please a boy.”
“Oh, trust me. I do,” Raphael says smugly. Simon rolls his eyes at him before realizing he can’t see him, and then mumbles: “Goodnight, Raphael. I’ll see you tomorrow at my gig.”
Raphael hums.
“Goodnight, Simon.”
Simon is able to end the phone call and throw his phone onto his bedside table before promptly falling asleep, dreaming about coffee and gigs and soft, pink lips.