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“Oh my god,” Simon baffles, sounding horrified as soon as he recognizes the song playing that’s echoing throughout the whole lounge. “Is this Mozart? Are you listening to Requiem Introitus?”
Raphael feels the annoying start of goosebumps when the fledgling starts speaking to him, interrupting a perfectly quiet evening to enjoy reading. It seems he was wrong.
“The Death Mass,” Simon explains with disbelief. “Even for an immortal, that’s incredibly morbid of you.”
Raphael fixes a glare on the young vampire, feeling defensive at the beginnings of insults from the boy. Of course he knows what the song represents, it’s an ultimate classic.
“You knew exactly what song it was,” the leader points out, unamused. He marks the page of the book with a small fold in the top corner, and closes it. Simon’s eyes drop to the cover, reading the title easily, and his mouth gapes open with some kind of sadness. He completely disregards Raphael’s returning words and says, “That’s a great book. My - my favorite part is when the man in the room plays the violin through the whole night. He describes it so – so,” Simon stops in the middle of his rant, lost on the word he was searching for.
“Hauntingly,” Raphael finishes for him, his throat secretly dry. He’s clutching the armrest tightly, trying to will away the thought of how Simon looked adorable when he got lost in what he was saying. Raphael tried to shake the feeling off, berating himself at the timing. It’s not his fault. He’s surprised that Simon knows Wiesel’s Night. Impressed, even, in fact –
“Will you go somewhere with me?” Simon asks, wringing his hands nervously in front of him. He seems to gain some confidence within a moment, and is saying, “I think you could use a little fun.”
“Fun?” The vampire returns with a smirk, suddenly amused. “Now?” For a moment, he considers the possibility. He thinks of Simon’s smile under city lights at nighttime. He swallows thickly.
Simon opens his mouth to say something but refrains. After a pause, he says, – heavier, like there was some invisible weight on his shoulders – “Truthfully, I could use some fun too.” He shrugs with a helplessness that tugs at some deep concern within the older vampire.
Raphael finds himself nodding before he can stop it, “Okay.”
A smile, small but still very much real, forms on Simon’s lips and Raphael is glad he could be the one to do that.
After all, vampires take care of one another, it was completely the right thing to do.
“Great! I’ll drive,” Simon answers excitedly, and Raphael thinks of the untrustworthy engine of the fledgling’s car. It’s far too late to mention otherwise, though.
---
The car makes it to a parking lot in front of a huge white brick building with ‘SUMMERFIELD LANES’ in bold and neon above the doors. There’s classic rock coming from inside the doors when he listens in and the sound of something rolling.
(When they arrived, Raphael was still holding onto the side of the door. An inevitable result from the van’s horrible screeches during the turns and his own muttering of ‘Dios’ multiple times under his breath.)
Simon turns the key, turning it all off, just as Raphael asks with an edge of laughter in his voice, “Bowling, Simon?” He possesses a strange and fond urge to tease.
“Ah, so you have had fun in your life at some point,” Simon gives as good as him, mocking with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not good at this,” he declines instead, nonchalantly.
“I don’t seem to believe you,” Simon says instead, a soft laugh escaping him.
Fuck, what was happening to Raphael’s body? His heart was pounding, pumping his energy faster, making the world more vibrant in color. His stomach was swooping and performing tricks on him. All because of a laugh .
He must be ruined. Something must be causing this.
Raphael hasn't ever felt something like this before.
In the past decades, vampires were on a new rise of chaos amidst Valentine's uprising. As immortals, they were always encouraged to indulge in the luxuries of life. Raphael scolded this lifestyle and rarely thought this was necessary, often saw the flaunting nature of some leaders, especially Camille. But during a time when he wasn't quite sure he'd be undead for much longer, he satisfied some of his curiosities of life. He discovered more art, historical artifacts worthy of merit, and let loose enough once to let another man go down on him at some underground club. He’s evolved with fashion’s trends quite well, in his opinion, as long as his jackets remain intact.
This though – being around Simon for as long as he's known him – was something else entirely.
Once they're inside, Raphael is so captivated by the changing lights of neon signs and arcade games, he doesn't even notice Simon talking and handing money to a man at a cashier, standing in front of rows of shoes. The older vampire glances around, noticing a group of middle-aged friends and a family of four at two different lanes. He sees the motions in action as an older man with a beard and a bald head steps up to the front of the lane, and then the ball is rolling and rolling. He thinks it won't make any pins but then the ball just curves to the left and takes down 8 pins in one go. The sound of the wooden pins falling to the surface is oddly calming.
Simon is handing to him a pair of shoes that immediately causes his nose to wrinkle unpleasantly. It shakes him out of his trance with his surroundings. He doesn't comment on the previous customers of the shoes or the horrid scent of sweat.
“So, have you done this before?” Simon asks as he tightens the laces of his shoe, his biceps tightening in a way that makes Raphael feel very, very hot all over.
He dutifully sits down and begins following suit and untying his present shoes for the flatter, less fashionable ones. For a second, his brain short circuits. No, he hasn't ever gone on a date before, and then he realizes the question and clears his throat. “I've seen the concept. I was told it entirely depended on the angle of the throw.”
“Is that fancy talk for not knowing what you're doing but not wanting to own up to it?” The younger one retorts with a flash of a grin, good-humored in nature.
“I'll teach it to you,” Simon relents once Raphael doesn't give up on glaring at him.
“Nonsense. I'll catch on, it can't possibly be difficult if an idiota like you can do it,” Raphael teases, letting the glare drop. He chuckles at the offended gasp from the other and looks up to see Simon swallowing thickly.
It confuses him. The younger suddenly looked so affected. Maybe he needed to feed soon. Raphael chastised himself mentally for not noticing. The fledgling was still so used to being human, he forgot to drink blood. He knows what it's like to adjust.
---
Raphael's face falls as soon as the ball slowly taunts him, making its way to the gutter apparently and he doesn't get anything, again. He looks up to the scoreboard and feels pathetic at his 34 to Simon's 97 points.
“Can you remind me what you brought me out here for?” The clan leader asks, his eyes on the numbers. He's too busy thinking that he lets his guard down and Simon is standing right behind him without a single warning going off in his mind. Dios, it was dangerous.
“I wish you would let me teach you,” Simon comments with a fond shake of his head, aware of the leader's stubbornness. He stiffens up, feeling some imaginary warmth coming off on waves from the other. He pictures it, what this teaching might be like. It couldn't be horrible, could it?
“Fine,” he agrees, bristling and turning to look at Simon except finding that he’s looking at a neck, since the fledging was taller than he ever got to notice. He peers up, hiding his shock. “Teach me this mundane game.”
Simon's lips part open and Raphael can't help but look and suddenly the younger vamp is speaking, “I wanted to bring you just anywhere because you were surrounding yourself with death and sadness and I just thought -- you have an incredible smile, did you know?”
Raphael's eyes snap to Simon's and he finds nothing but honesty in them and feels his lips quirk up at the compliment.
“Simon,” he says pointedly, but that's all he can seem to say, not having an appropriate response to the confession. He’s completely shook up.
It almost appears as if the other man's cheeks become rosier, blushing at the words he had said. “Can I start with the positioning of your feet? You want them to cross in a straight line and lean your back into it.”
A full three minutes of explanations tumbling from Simon's mouth and then his hands are touching Raphael's shoulders gently, he's standing behind him, urging him into place and suddenly Raphael goes still at the contact. It's too much, this is becoming an embarrassment for him. He thinks about the things that Simon's hands could do for him and grips the ball tightly. He thinks about the angle and the timing but mostly the feel of Simon's body tortuously close to his own and heads down the lane with smooth steps and pulls back his arm to release the bowling ball. He holds his breath watching it roll, despite not needing it, and sees 10 pins knock off to the side. His mouth drops, he actually did it.
“Whoo! That's what I'm talking about,” Simon says with a friendly pat on his shoulder, only he forgets to remove it. Instead nodding to himself, “I've taught you well, grasshopper.”
Raphael does everything to ignore the heat of the baby vamp’s hand and raises an eyebrow, “I am not a grasshopper.”
Simon smirks, lifting his hand off, his confidence shining through his eyes, “You're right. Grasshoppers don't bite.”
There's a flash of the fledgling’s neck and Raphael pleads his own mind to stop.
---
“What has been upsetting you?” seems to finally escape Raphael’s mouth once a lull has set to the mood of the place. By now, the building picked up its routine of pins and rolling and the awful selection of 80s’ music so naturally, that it became peaceful.
The game itself is almost over. In truth, he admires Simon’s respect not to go easy on him since he was someone who had gone bowling before. He’s has never met someone so dorky and foolishly attractive – Raphael should throw in trouble magnet, that remains for the boy as well. Why he was so enamored, he couldn’t – The point is, throughout the whole thing there have been moments where Simon seems to act older than his age already, like he discovered something.
“It’s stupid,” Simon mumbles, shrugging from his shoulders and trying to get away with it. “Come on, it’s your last round.”
“Why would it be stupid?” Raphael asks insistently, ignoring the game.
“It’s just –” Simon stops for the words and the leader doesn’t interrupt, giving him a patient stare. To his surprise, Simon lets out a quick laugh. “Let me ask you this. Your first year as a vampire, that’s enough time to grow accustomed to what you need to do to survive, right? And so am I, I get it, –”
Raphael looks around the wide room to see if any of the other patrons heard anything, but they are too far away from their lane. And he completely turns back when he hears the sense of urgency in Simon’s next words.
“I understand that I am an undead blood-drinker, it makes sense. But, god, there is something about not being a human. I was human for so long,” Simon stops, but quickly shakes his head, “Today’s when I realized I will never have kids or a family, alright? I told you it was stupid.”
Raphael swallows thickly, sadness pouring out of his skin as he feels the effect of the scenario. Simon had years ahead of him, he gets it, he has been through this too. But it hit all at once, the monster he had become erasing any fantasy of happiness, instead of gradually. But he must have been in the wrong, because he hasn’t been feeling unpleasant around some people. A family of his own growing in the works, with his clan, maybe that Shadowhunter fashionista who was much more tolerable when talking about Versace, and perhaps even Simon. It doesn’t stop the pain of what he still imagined as a human, a long time ago.
The whole thing was entirely – what was the word he used earlier? Haunting.
“It’s not stupid. At all,” he assures, hearing the thickness, and keeps saying, “You are the most human vampire I’ve ever known. It’s unquestioningly incredible.”
Simon starts to smile slowly, his eyebrows going up in surprise, “Incredible?”
Raphael is furious with him, this stupid beautiful – “Yes, you are incredible!” he urges desperately, leaning closer, “And you can’t let anyone tell you otherwise, Simon, especially not as a Downworlder.”
It’s quiet for a moment. The intensity is soaring so high, Raphael feels like he could be panting. He backs away, feels immense humiliation and grabs his jacket from the bench. “We should go,” he announces, somehow needing the night’s darkness and wind instead of this multi-colored arena, a breath of fresh air would do his mind some good.
“But – the game?” Simon asks, jerking his hand behind him in what he probably assumes is the scoreboard.
“We’re both winners at heart,” Raphael answers instead, rolling his eyes.
Simon snickers, glancing at the scoreboard and then back to the vampire leader, “If you say so.”
---
“Simon, is everything okay?” Clary asks, peering over his hand which was fidgeting a tad more than he usually does with the utensils. They’re having coffee at a nighttime cafe, which had Japanese lanterns lit up along the top of the building. She glamoured over her runes, both of them posing as mundanes for the meet-up. Simon brought a flask of blood to dose his coffee with.
He stops turning the fork over, looks at Clary, “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“So Izzy said Magnus has been looking into some people that may have connections to where Valentine is headed. She thinks it’s some man on a ship, but nothing points to –” Clary stops in the middle of her sentence, swallowing quickly and then forcing a smile. Simon noticed that much and can tell his best friend is still worried about Jace.
“If you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask,” Simon answers kindly, “But as long as you understand where my loyalty lies now. I’ve messed up before.”
“Raphael will always forgive you,” Clary responds gently, nodding in agreement to the words. She thinks about something else but refrains from saying it.
“He shouldn’t have to,” Simon replies with a heavy sigh. And oh? She definitely sees something going on there. “Raphael said something to me. Last night when we were bowling.”
Clary feels a huge grin splitting on her face, “Oh? What’d he say?” The teasing is definitely somewhere in her voice and Simon picks up on it, giving her a deathly glare and then bounces his leg nervously.
“He told me I was incredible,” he finally blurts out, looking like he would blush if possible. He meets eyes with Clary, “That I was the most human vampire he’s ever known? Come on, Clary, anything you have to say would be great now.”
She gasps and then tries not to squeal and instead, outright giggles, “Oh, this is gold. That’s beautiful, truly.”
“Clary!” Simon grits out angrily, “This is serious.”
She laughs, not able to help it or contain it, knowing that Simon was still her best friend in this way was fantastic. “Okay,” she clears her throat, “Have you tried telling him that you like him?”
“I’m not – That’s so not what I was – I was trying to ask you what the things he said meant –” Simon splutters, undignified in his obvious denial. Boys were always going to be this dumb, weren’t they?
“He has Caravaggio hanging in the entrance room and basically said you were like life,” she laughs, swiping her hand in the air dramatically, “He’s completely smitten, but you, I didn’t know you were lusting over him!”
“It’s not lust,” Simon immediately defends, giving himself away in the process.
She grins knowingly, and then hums to herself, “I really think you need to talk to him. Either way, you’re in limbo now and it’s up to you to do something about it.”
After a long pause for him to think, Clary finally snorts to break the silence, “Bowling, Simon? Really?”
“Shut up,” he mumbles back, helplessly.
---
He took me BOWLING, chismosa, Raphael sends back on his phone, shaking his head at Isabelle’s antics.
Oh, Simon she instantly replies, and then follows it with, Poor thing. He’s trying so hard
Trying what? He asks, not sure why she’s putting impossible thoughts in his head. He puts the phone aside to the table and walks over to the piano, settling down onto the bench.
For a moment, he’s about to play something old and refined, like Beethoven – his usual type of tunes. But then he assesses how he’s feeling, and Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight begins with the touch of his fingers before he can help it, soft tones echoing through the ceiling.
He gets more lost in it that he anticipated of himself, humming along the melody quietly.
“That’s a classic,” Simon says and Dios, Raphael jumps out of his skin, the first time the other has ever been able to sneak up on him, and Simon just answers the jerk with a proud grin.
“Yes, it is,” he replies, refusing to show any effect that the surprise had on him. The younger vampire is wearing a dark red t-shirt and flattering dark denim and Raphael still knows that some effect must show because the grin fades and turns into a softer smile.
“You’re very gorgeous when you play,” he says, hesitantly crossing a line. Though, Raphael has been crossing that line in his mind for hours every day.
“Simon,” he says again, thick with emotion, some kind of desperation for the fledgling to not go there.
“Will you tell me I’m not crazy?” Simon pleads back, ignoring the sound of his name. “Will you tell me that I’m not – I’m not making it all up in my head whenever you look at me like that? That there’s something here, that we just, just, keep not talking about?”
His mouth opens but nothing comes out, he doesn’t know what to say. It’s true. All of it’s horribly right. He’s been going crazy too, terrified even of the way he would probably do anything to keep Simon safe.
“Or,” Simon’s voice cracks in the silent, it sounds like something shattered. “I am crazy.” He makes a move, as if he’s about to leave and Raphael stands from the bench and immediately reaches out for Simon’s arm without thinking.
And god, he forgot about that strange warmth, the unusual temperature for a vampire, as if Simon had some burning light and fire inside of him. It was captivating.
“You’re not crazy,” is all he says at first, scanning over the open expression on the fledgling’s face. That’s all it takes, really, and everything comes pouring out. “You constantly put yourself in danger for everyone you care about, you make me worry about you endlessly. You show me the best reasons to keep living, you laugh like the presence is all that matters, and you mean everything to me, you stupid, selfless –”
“Raphael,” Simon interrupts with a beg and there’s a tear falling down his cheek and then he’s leaning in closer, pushing his lips to the older vampire’s with such a softness that it breaks something inside of him.
Raphael leans closer into it, melding his lips with Simon’s in return. If he had a heartbeat, it’d be soaring away in repetition. He places his hand on the taller’s waist just as the fledgling cups the back of his neck and brushes his tongue against his bottom lip, and oh, God, his knees nearly stumble trying to get closer.
He opens his mouth at the invitation, touches Simon’s tongue with his own and feels everything from head to toe. They keep kissing, in some other world, becoming closer and closer until they’re standing in the piano room, just holding onto each other like a salvation. The glow is even more prominent, feeling dizzy with the warmth from Simon’s hands on his back, pulling him in.
They pull away after a good, long amount of minutes, the indefinite perk of not needing to physically breathe.
Simon’s still looking at his lips, like he’s in awe of doing that. It’s slightly ridiculous, and Raphael starts laughing. Loud, shaking laughter in the younger vampire’s arms, he’s so lightheaded.
“I hope you know I could be around for a very long time,” Simon answers, baffled at the reaction and smiling despite it because now he knows what he means and Raphael’s smile is still stupidly gorgeous.
“I’m counting on it,” Raphael smirks, so smoothly, damn it. And then moves to peck Simon’s cheek, but the younger moves out of the way reflexively, not having any of it, and goes for the real thing instead. Raphael arches into him as soon as the kiss begins, moaning when Simon’s hands clutch him tighter.
Fuck.
The younger’s mouth starts moving down his jaw and to his neck, where he bites gently, attempting to mark the leader’s neck and Raphael is intimately aware of the heat from Simon now, and groans loudly.
“Baby, you are trying to kill – oh,” he gasps, when Simon instinctively goes to his collarbone now and sucks hard, leaving a trail from his neck to there. “Simon, please,” he says, not sure what he’s begging for but just anything would be nice at this point.
Raphael thinks he can feel Simon shiver at what he said, his pupils blown wide with black lust, and swallowing like his throat was impossibly dry.
“We’re going to your bedroom,” Simon responds, with a hint of frustration and wraps his hand around Raphael’s wrist gently before tugging him towards the door. He grumbles underneath his breath and the clan leader smirks, following along willingly as he listens in to, “Winners at heart. Unquestioningly incredible,” he quotes in disbelief, all of it making Raphael smile to himself. They reach the leader’s quarters and enter, and Raphael hooks his arms around Simon’s neck and looks at him shaking his head to himself fondly.
“I am stupidly in love with you,” is all Simon says.
Raphael swallows, kisses his lips quickly, and says, “I don’t blame you, you’re very stupid.”
“Did you just – Raphael!”
The older vampire laughs again, full of life and elated for the first time in a while.