Work Text:
“Lewis, what the hell?” Clary whispers as Simon slides into the empty seat next to her. “You’re forty minutes late. Where were you?”
Simon shrugs, not looking at her and pulling out his biology book instead. “Overslept,” he says.
“You’ve got six alarms on your phone,” Clary whispers back. “You’re never late.”
“I––”
“Lewis, Fray. Anything you’d care to share with the rest of us?”
Both Clary and Simon straighten up as their teacher stops in front of their table.
“No, ma’am,” they say in unison.
“Are you sure? Because it’s apparently more interesting than listening to my lecture,” the teacher says, eyeing them over the brim of her glasses.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Clary says, and averts her eyes. The teacher nods and walks back to the front of the classroom.
Simon gives a sigh of relief, hoping the interference will make Clary drop the subject. But no such luck.
A mere minute later, when the teacher has her back towards her students as she’s writing on the whiteboard, Clary slips Simon a piece of paper.
He shoots her a quizzical look, but she just looks pointedly between the paper and him, and then turns back to look ahead at the teacher.
Making sure he’s not being watched, Simon unfolds the paper.
Seriously what were you doing? This isn’t like you.
He sighs. It takes him five minutes to scribble a response, as he has to hide it from the teacher who keeps looking at him every other second. When he’s finally done, he slips it to Clary.
---------------------------
An hour later, the bell that signals the end of class rings. Clary is on her feet in a flash.
“What does that even mean?” she whispers urgently, waving the tiny piece of paper in front of his eyes. “‘I was busy’? With what?”
“It’s not important, okay?” Simon says, avoiding her eye. He takes an uncharacteristically long time to pack his books and pens into his backpack, all the while very decidedly not looking at Clary.
“Honestly,” Clary says. She looks, and sounds, exasperated. “It’s not like you to hide stuff from me.”
“Look, it’s…” Simon sighs. He gets to his feet and hauls his backpack onto his shoulder. “It’s just family stuff. Rebecca is stressed with college so I have to do her share of the work at home, and you know my mom’s out sick this week so I have to cover for her too, and on top of that she’d promised to pick up some stuff for my cousin’s quinceañera so I had to do that too.”
He exhales. Sometimes when he says lots of things really quickly, he sort of forgets to breathe.
Clary smiles big and bright. “She’s already fifteen?”
Simon nods. “Yeah, in two weeks.”
“That’s incredible! It feels like she was eight just yesterday."
Simon and Clary have known each other their whole lives, so Clary knows his family and extended family very well, just as he knows hers. Their two families have been tightly intertwined since before Simon can remember.
She's been a part of every major event in his life so far, like his Bar Mitzvah, when she had to talk him down from a panic attack the night before. She was also the first person he told when he fell in love for the first time. And pretty much every year, she and her parents celebrate Passover at the Lewis' house, which includes all (or most) of Simon's extended family. Jocelyn and Luke always invite Simon over for Christmas at their house, too, but that's mostly just out of politeness. He prefers hanging out with them at the weekly Fray-Garroway movie nights, instead.
"I’m sorry things are rough right now,” Clary continues. “And I’m sorry for being intense. It’s just, you’ve been acting weird lately. I don’t know… I guess I’m just worried about you.”
Simon smiles. “You’re always worried about me.”
“True,” Clary says, and loops their arms together as they leave the classroom. “But you have been acting weird. You’ve been late more times in the past two weeks than in the years I’ve known you and, in case you forgot, I’ve known you since we were, like, babies.”
“I’ve been busy,” Simon says. “With mom, with Becks, with school...”
They walk down the crowded hallway where students are filing out of the classrooms. A herd of teenage girls pass them, followed by a group of loud teenage boys with letterman jackets and uncomfortably uniform haircuts.
One of the boys bumps into Simon and walks off without apologizing. Clary scoffs, but Simon doesn’t comment. He looks after the boy for a moment and then turns back to Clary.
“Is that all though?” Clary asks. She squeezes his arm.
“Yeah,” he says, flatly. Then he forces a grin, and playfully nudges her with his elbow. “What else would I be doing? Secretly fighting crimes at night wearing a flashy cape, time travelling, dating some hot super model? You know me. I'm not adventurous..”
“Not for lack of trying.”
Simon huffs. “I thought you knew me. I wouldn’t be the hero, I’d be the sidekick.”
Clary holds out her arm to stop him. She disentangles herself from him and grabs his shoulders.
“Simon Lewis. You are an amazing person and you are just as valuable as everyone else, if not more. Okay? Don’t put yourself down. You deserve better than that.”
Simon is stunned by the sincerity of Clary’s words. He knows that she loves him, but he’s not used to her getting this… emotionally honest.
He finds himself quite unable to look her in the eyes as he mumbles, “Thanks.”
It’s not for nothing they’ve known each other for 18 years, though. As soon as she’s said her piece and he has acknowledged it, she goes back to her cheery self to give Simon the emotional space to process, because she knows that’s what he needs.
“I’m going to my next class, but I’ll see you at lunch, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Great,” she leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before disappearing down the hall.
Simon stands by his locker and stops for a moment to remember his combination. After putting his biology books in and taking out his calculus books, he just stands there for a second. He looks to the left, where Clary disappeared to, and to the right, where–– well.
He sighs and walks to AP Calc.
-----------------------
After class, Simon walks very briskly to his locker to dispose of his books. As he’s walking, he looks down on his phone to check the time. Forty minutes to lunch
Okay, good. Plenty of time, he thinks to himself.
He’s pocketing his phone again when something -- or rather, someone -- slams into him from the side.
“Sorry, man!”
A group of jocks were, supposedly playfully, pushing each other around and laughing nearby, and one of them had stumbled right into Simon.
Simon recognizes the vibrant eyes and the golden hair right away. His mouth opens and closes.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make eye contact, but just quietly slips away and continues his path to his locker.
He leaves his backpack in his locker, along with his books and his pencil case. He pats his jeans pocket to make sure he’s still got his phone and then he sets off for the football pitch.
The school grounds are full of students milling about, studying, chatting with each other. But the pitch is pleasantly empty, with the exception of the janitor mowing the grass.
With a new spring in his step, Simon slips under the bleachers by the edge of the pitch.
He weaves through the metal bars and stops about midway through. He peers through the mesh of metal and is barely able to make out the green grass on the other side.
He leans against a more sturdy-looking metal bar, and waits.
He doesn’t have to wait long. Not more than a few minutes has passed before Simon hears a rustling sound on the other side of the bleachers.
He straightens up and cranes his neck to try and catch a glimpse of what had made the noise.
“Looking for anyone?”
Simon relaxes at the familiar voice. “No, not really. Just hanging out, you know? Chilling. Waiting for better days.”
A golden-haired boy approaches him, ducking under a metal bar and coming to stand next to Simon. “That sounds believable.”
“I wouldn’t trust you to determine what’s believable or not, Jace,” Simon says. Then he adds, “I’d say no offence, but you know…”
“Yeah, sure,” Jace says, and grins. He drops a messenger bag on the ground next to him and it falls with a heavy thump.
“You didn’t even drop off your books?” Simon asks, and he sounds more critical than he means to.
“Not books,” Jace says. “Shoes and stuff. You know, for football. That thing I play called a sport?”
Simon rolls his eyes. “God forbid you’d ever carry around books.”
“Why read books when you can get by on good looks?” Jace says with a wink.
“How much does that actually help you though? Like really?”
“Well, it helps with a lot of things,” Jace says casually, leaning against a metal bar right next to Simon. He’s slowly come closer as they’ve talked, but Simon hasn’t noticed until now.
“Like what?” Simon asks, and he would be embarrassed at how breathless he is but he doesn’t really care. It’s really hard to care about anything at all when Jace Lightwood is inches away from you and all you can think about is his lips.
“It makes cute people notice you,” Jace says. His voice is lower now, and he’s gotten even closer. When did that happen?
“Mhm, what cute people?”
Simon isn’t even sure what he’s saying anymore. His eyes are locked onto Jace’s lips and his flirty banter is completely unfiltered at this point.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jace says, and he doesn’t really take a step back but he’s suddenly a lot less-close, whatever that means.
Simon blinks. “God, I know you’re a tease, but come on.”
“Well, if you put it like that…” Jace says with a grin.
Before Simon can brace himself, Jace has pushed him against the bleachers, kissing him hard and fast.
A week’s worth of sexual frustration that Simon has kept pent up inside is released the second their lips touch.
Overwhelmed, he knots his fingers in the fabric of Jace’s letterman jacket and pulls him closer.
It’s breathless, and rough, and off-center. Jace’s hands are everywhere at once; pressing him into the cold metal, cradling his face, tugging at his hair, sliding over the exposed skin where Simon’s shirt has ridden up.
Simon gasps as Jace loops his finger in his belt loop and yanks him closer.
“You’re getting better at this,” Simon mumbles.
Jace huffs a laugh as he flattens a hand against Simon’s belly and drinks in the choked noise Simon makes. “And you’re not getting any better at handling this.”
“Well can you blame me?” Simon asks, and uses his hold on the jacket to pull Jace in for another kiss. “The quarterback of the football team, the most popular guy in school, is kissing me. How am I supposed to handle that?”
“Mhm, true. I guess it’s unfair to,” Jace pauses to kiss Simon again, “expect you to control yourself around me. I mean, have you seen me?”
“You’re all I can see.”
Jace was just leaning in to kiss him again, but he stops at Simon’s words.
He opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
Simon retcons really quickly.
“Sorry, was that weird?” he leans back to gauge Jace’s expression. “Did I make it weird? I’m sorry. I never know what to say--”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jace says, and cups Simon’s cheek. He looks… tender. “You’re really cute when you’re nervous.”
“But I’m always nervous.”
“Exactly.”
Simon blushes to the roots of his hair. “I don’t-- you’re unbelievable.”
“Quarterback of the football team, most popular guy in school, unbelievable,” Jace ticks them off on his fingers. “Those are definitely going in the compliment hall of fame."
Simon pushes his shoulder, but he’s smiling. Then he bites his lip. “I really like you.”
Jace seems a little taken aback by that as well, but he recovers quicker this time. He kisses Simon, very gently and carefully. Their lips barely brush against each other and the unspoken words hang in the air between them.
Simon really doesn’t expect him to say it back. Jace was very clear from the start that he doesn’t want to be public. Not necessarily because he’s in the closet, but because he doesn’t want the scrutiny and the attention. Simon had joked that Jace not wanting to be in the spotlight seemed uncharacteristic, but Jace had insisted.
So Simon doesn’t press. He doesn’t love not being able to talk to Jace in front of people, or even ask for an apology when Jace bumps into him in the hallway, but if that is the price he has to pay, then he’ll happily pay it. As long as he gets to have Jace, in whatever shape or form Jace is okay with.
“I, uh,” Jace says suddenly, and he sounds a bit choked up. “I really like you too.”
Simon smiles. It’s a soft, almost tangible smile and it’s very contagious. For a moment, they just stand there. Holding each other and smiling.
Then Jace clears his throat. “Anyway…” He tugs Simon closer again. “I think we were in the middle of something.”
Simon loops his arms around Jace’s neck and melts into the kiss. It’s still tender, but with a definite edge to it now. There’s more teeth and more tongue, and Jace keeps nipping at Simon’s bottom lip. Simon hisses, but he isn’t sure if it’s the pain or the pleasure. Suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore.
He chokes on a moan as Jace swiftly picks him up and slams him against the cold metal bars of the bleachers. Simon wraps his legs around Jace’s waist and clings to him like a panda. He holds onto Jace’s biceps for support, although the sensation of the muscles flexing under his fingers is almost enough to make him crumble in on himself.
He compensates by kissing Jace even harder. He gives in to temptation and slides his hand into the golden locks that he’s always dreaming of touching. And yeah, he might have a thing for hair pulling. Maybe. Just a tiny bit.
And by the sounds Jace is currently making, the feeling’s mutual.
“You’re so good,” Jace gasps against Simon’s lips, as his hips buck forward. “So, so good.”
Simon moans something incomprehensible in return. With every passing minute, he clings harder to Jace and the kisses get messier and messier.
Seconds, minutes, hours and maybe even week pass. Okay, maybe not weeks. Maybe not even hours. But it feels like they’ve been doing this forever, kissing and grinding and just being with each other.
At some point, Simon tries to say that he has to go meet Clary for lunch, but that argument is effectively quashed by Jace’s tongue getting very intimately acquainted with Simon’s neck. And who is Simon to argue against that?
So they keep kissing, and being with each other, and exploring each other. Simon learns that Jace has a heart shaped mole on his rib cage, and Jace learns that digging his fingers into Simon’s waist makes his hips buck.
They’ve been doing this for weeks now –– sneaking off to fool around behind the bleachers –– and yet every touch is like the first. Every kiss, every ass grab, every exchanged look of pleasure. Simon can’t get enough of it, and neither can Jace.
Finally, they break apart, gasping and desperate for air, yet unwilling to pry themselves away just yet.
Jace is currently the one backed into the bar and Simon is more or less leaning against him, wrapped up in Jace’s arms. Simon isn’t sure if he’s crossing a line, because they never really set down any ground rules except the basic ‘don’t tell anyone’, but before he can stop himself he’s nuzzled into Jace’s neck.
It’s warm, and safe, and comfortable. Jace smells amazing and Simon can feel his heart thrumming against his chest.
Jace doesn’t object to it, so Simon assumes it’s okay. In fact, what Jace does is hug him closer, and lean his head against Simon’s.
This is different than what they’ve done before. Usually, they make out, do some over-the-clothes stuff and then part ways with minimal to no cuddling. This is… new.
“Sorry about today,” Jace mumbles.
Simon had almost been drifting off. He blinks a few times, and adjusts himself slightly so he isn’t muffled by Jace’s neck. “Sorry, what?”
“I’m sorry,” Jace says. “For today, in the hallway.”
“Oh, that,” Simon says, waving it off, but secretly he’s glad Jace brings it up.
“Yeah, it was shitty of me. I’m sorry,” Jace says, and Simon notices that that’s the third time he’s said ‘I’m sorry’ today.
“It’s fine,” Simon wants to say, but before he can, Jace continues, “I’ve been thinking… maybe we should think about telling people. I don’t know. I don’t like not talking to you, you know, in school.”
Simon draws back so he can look Jace in the eye. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Jace says, eyebrows raised. “Why is that so surprising?”
“I don’t know,” Simon says genuinely. “I guess I figured… you weren’t really interested, you know, for real. I thought it was just a fling.”
“It can be,” Jace says quickly. “If you want.”
“Oh, no, no,” Simon says, and for some reason he thinks putting his hand on Jace’s chest feels like a good idea, but he immediately regrets it. At least, he regrets it until Jace covers it with his own and intertwines their fingers. “I mean… it’s okay if that’s what you want, but I, uh. You know.”
“I really like you,” Jace says in response, and Simon can really feel the emotion radiating off him. “And I’ve been thinking, well, what’s the worst thing that can happen? We’re not the only gay kids in school anyway, so--”
“Oh, um, I’m not gay,” Simon interjects. He hesitates. “I’m, uh. I’m pansexual, actually.”
“Oh cool,” Jace says, nodding. “I’m not gay either, to be honest. I mean I haven’t thought about it that much but I think I’m bisexual. It’s just easier to say gay, I guess.”
“Sure, sure,” Simon says, an entire world’s worth of weight being lifted off his chest. Coming out was never easy but it almost felt that way with Jace.
“But yeah, I… I wasn’t sure if I was ready for anything serious but… I think... “ Jace smiles. “If you want?”
Simon grins, big and wide and genuine. He doesn’t think there are any words in his vocabulary, English or Spanish, that can convey the feelings bubbling up in his chest, so he settles on just kissing Jace. Again, and again, and again.
And Jace kisses him back.
Simon feels like he’s drowning in the kiss and he has to pull himself back to the surface, or he’ll just stay there forever.
“I have to, um, meet Clary,” he says. “I’m already late. She’s getting suspicious.”
“I’m sure she is,” Jace says with a smile. “Can you lie to her for another day or two?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can. I’ll just have to buy her coffee every day for a month and then I’ll be forgiven.”
“Look at you,” Jace says, playfully shoving him. “Dating a guy in secret. And you think you’re boring.”
At that, Simon’s heart does a weird flutter thing. “Dating?” he says, and it’s almost a whisper.
Jace looks soft and nervous, as he says, “I mean, yeah. If you want?”
“Of course I do,” Simon says, a bit too loudly. But he’s been holding this in for way too long and honestly, Jace should count himself lucky that Simon isn’t running around the entire football pitch screaming at the top of his lungs that Jace Lightwood wants to date him. Because it is truly a scream worthy thing.
“Good,” Jace says, and he’s practically beaming. Simon has never seen him beam before. “Dating, then.”
“Dating,” Simon echoes, mostly to solidify it for himself.
“Meet here tomorrow?” Jace asks, nudging him with a sweet smile.
They seal the deal with a kiss.