Archive of Our Own

i.

Because the Shadowhunters like upholding the illusion of justice, they set up a trial for Camille. All vampires living in New York are called upon to witness it, to see what happens to those who disobey the law. They are forced to watch as Camille burns, are forced to feel her life seep out of her body. Some of her fledglings find death with her, too closely connected to her to be able to live without her.

Simon suffers in silence. He hates being reminded of the bond he had with her, so he ignores the sharp pain in the pit of his stomach as she burns. Ignores the desperate tugging at his mind, as if Camille is clawing at every connection she can reach just to stay alive.

Raphael is standing on the other side of the courtroom, surrounded by his clan. Simon notices some faces are missing and remembers the time Raphael told him some of the clan members were still on Camille’s side. They must’ve either been killed by the others once Camille was captured or run away. Vampires do not allow treason. Simon knows that better than anyone.

Raphael’s face is twisted with pain as he watches Camille burn, but he holds his head high and doesn’t avert his gaze. Once upon a time, Camille was his leader. He must feel her death just as much as others. But there isn’t a sign of remorse or regret in his eyes as he watches Camille burn, as he listens to her desperate cries. He allows death to tear their connection apart, and once Camille stops screaming, he looks liberated .

Simon stares at the smoldering pile of ashes that used to be a person. He tries to feel any sorrow, maybe some sympathy for the lost life, but despite his chest burning with the physical loss of his Sire, Simon understands why Raphael looks so liberated.

He feels the same way.

*

Simon is welcomed back into the hotel when he almost kills his mother.

He thought he had it under control. He thought he could pretend to be normal, that he could just come up with excuses as to why he never came outside during the day and why he never touched any of his food on his plate. It worked for a while – his mother mostly thought he was going through a depression, which wasn’t completely untrue. So she accepted his weird sleeping schedule and stopped trying to make him eat his dinner after a month of begging. Simon really thought this could work.

But his blood supply was rapidly running out, and after three months of living back home, he was starving .

It all happened so fast. He was helping his mom prepare for dinner, chatting away about the most trivial things to distract him from his thirst. His mom was chopping up some vegetables with a professional kitchen knife Rebecca had given her some years ago, talking about the neighbors and the new kitchen they’d installed. Simon said something that made her laugh, and then suddenly she gasped and dropped the knife.

Simon smelled it before he saw it; the thick, sweet scent of fresh human blood. His fangs dropped almost immediately and something ancient settled in the back of his mind, an instinct that told him to drink, drink, drink .

His mother stumbled to the sink. She held her hand under cold water, cursing under her breath. The knife lay forgotten on the cutting board, a drop of blood clinging to the blade. Simon could hear her heartbeat, the blood pumping through her veins.

“Simon,” his mother said. Her voice sounded calm, like it always did. “Mind getting me a bandage, please?”

Simon didn’t move. He just stared at her back, at the vein in her neck. Her pulse point. Only one step and he’d stand behind her, only one bite. It would be so easy. She was right there. She was right there .

“Simon?” She asked again. She turned around, and only when their eyes met, did Simon snap out of his trance.

“I – I need to go,” he stuttered, taking several steps back to put some distance between himself and his mother.

“Go? Where?”

“I just – I need – I need to leave . I can’t – I can’t – ” He didn’t finish his sentence before stepping out of the kitchen. He fled the house before his mother could stop him, the ancient instinct still hammering in his mind, ordering him to give in to his urges and feed.

On his way to the hotel, a poor homeless man had the misfortune of drawing attention to himself. By now, Simon’s throat was hurting so bad it was driving him insane. He hyper-focused on the man tucked behind a Dumpster, located his strong, healthy heartbeat, and stalked over to him.

And then –

And then –

And then.

Simon begs Raphael for forgiveness with fresh blood on his chin.

ii.

Raphael had retraced his footsteps and found the man to make sure Simon didn’t completely drain him, then dropped him off at the nearest hospital just in case he’d lost too much blood to make it through the night on his own.

Simon had never felt so bad in his entire life. When he was still a Mundane, he refused to eat meat just because he felt sorry for the animals. And now he’d almost killed someone innocent purely because he was hungry . It was pathetic. He was pathetic. He’d fully expected Raphael to agree, but instead, he’d understood. He had even told Simon about his own past, about how he had cried for hours when he accidentally killed someone because he was so hungry. It happened to all vampires, and that’s why it was so important to learn how to control your impulses.

There had still been an edge to his voice, caution to his touches. But he had told Simon that he was welcome to stay, and that he would help him control his bloodlust.

So he called his mother, gave her a weak excuse about rehab and moved back into the hotel. Somehow, returning to people just like him made him feel more at home than he’d felt in his old house.

iii.

Months pass. Raphael keeps his distance at first, only taking on the role as his mentor instead of his friend. Simon can’t blame him. What he did, what freeing Camille had done to the clan – it was unforgivable. And yet Raphael ignored the angry outcries from the others when he allowed Simon back in and took it upon himself to teach him everything there was to be taught.

Before the betrayal, Simon had seen glimpses of the person Raphael was behind the tall walls he had built around himself. The walls came back stronger than ever, but after a while, Simon manages to tear them down again. Brick by brick. Slowly but surely, Raphael allows him in again.

He doesn’t give him his old position as personal advisor back, but he does ask Simon for advice on certain matters. He does ask Simon to stay when he’s answering letters, does ask him to talk about something to distract him from his crippling anxiety when being a leader gets too overwhelming.

Simon witnesses panic attacks, depressive episodes, emotional outbursts and numbing nightmares. He’s the only one allowed in Raphael’s room when he screams himself awake, is the only one allowed to touch him when he’s having a panic attack. When Raphael clings onto him, when he cries silent tears in the crook of Simon’s neck, Simon isn’t just allowed a glimpse behind his walls. In those moments, when Raphael is the most vulnerable, there are no walls. Raphael trusts him enough to see him as the real, flawed, vulnerable person he really is, behind his scowls and glares and fancy suits. That’s how Simon knows he succeeded in regaining Raphael’s trust.

And Simon trusts him too. His walls aren’t as tall as Raphael’s, but he still doesn’t allow everyone to come too close. Where Raphael’s stoicism is his armor, Simon’s humor is his. He can make everything into a joke if he tries hard enough. Only Raphael is allowed to see him when he can’t use humor to protect himself.

That’s why, when Raphael asks for a favor, Simon doesn’t even ask questions.

“Sure,” he says, “whatever you want.”

Raphael swats at Simon’s legs so he’ll move them and then sinks next to him onto the couch. Simon swings his legs over Raphael’s lap and offers him a grin when Raphael glares at him.

“Okay, you know about the Sessimonium, right?”

Simon chews his lip. “It’s an annual Downworlder meeting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Raphael nods. “Downworlders from all over the world Portal to it. It’s the biggest event of the year.”

“I know. You’ve told me about it.”

“Yeah, well. Have I also told you about what is expected of the vampire leaders?”

Simon frowns and throws his comic book on the coffee table to give Raphael his undivided attention.

“No,” he says. “Nothing bad, right? Like bringing a human sacrifice or something?”

Raphael scoffs. “You really need to get a hobby that isn’t watching weird movies. Look, I’ve told you about vampire politics and status symbols. Surely you know what gives a vampire status, especially when they’re a clan leader.”

Simon thinks back to Raphael’s lectures on vampirism. He mostly zoned out during them, but he did remember some things.

“Oh, yeah! Having a partner adds status to your position as a leader, right?”

Raphael hums. “Correct. This is where the favor comes in; people will give me a hard time. It’s my first year attending as leader instead of second in command, and I’ll be one of the youngest leaders there. Not only that, but it was my clan that almost started a civil war. I almost failed as a leader by not immediately dealing with Camille and the threat she brought with her, so I could really use some security. Something to secure my position as leader. Or, well – some one .”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Simon says.

“Am I really going to have to ask it out loud?” Raphael groans. He looks… Well, he looks almost embarrassed.

“You can write it and post it to me if that makes you feel better,” Simon grins. He nudges Raphael with his leg to urge him to continue, and Raphael slaps it away in annoyance.

“Fine. Okay. I was wondering if you, by any chance, want to go with me and… pretend to be my – you know – my…”

“Boyfriend?” Simon finishes, realization dawning on him.

“Basically,” Raphael nods. “Just for a few days. You’re the only one I trust enough to ask.”

“Okay, sure. What would I have to do?”

Raphael shrugs. He doesn’t look at Simon as he continues: “Just – I don’t know. Boyfriend stuff. Stand by my side and dance with me at parties and sleep in the same hotel room. The basics.”

“I could do that.”

“Really?”

Simon huffs. “It’s not that hard, Raphael. You think I couldn’t do it?”

“No,” Raphael shakes his head. “No, I just thought you wouldn’t.”

“Pretending to be your boyfriend isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, Raph,” Simon smiles. He lifts his foot to poke his cheek. Raphael hits his ankle and scowls at him. “I’ve had to pretend to be human when I wasn’t. I could easily fake date you for a couple of days. Besides,” he shrugs, “we spend a lot of time together anyway. It won’t be any different.”

“Except you’ll have to pretend to be in love with me,” Raphael notes.

Simon bites his lip to stop himself from blurting something he’ll regret. Truth is that there wouldn’t be a lot of pretending involved, but Raphael doesn’t have to know that. It would only make it more awkward than it’s already going to be.

“Can’t be that hard,” he says instead of whatever he wanted to say. “You’re quite attractive. I think I’ll manage just fine.”

Raphael rolls his eyes at him, but there’s a barely visible smile dancing on his lips. Raphael doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does, it’s around Simon.

“Thank you, Simon. Really. I owe you.”

Simon thinks back to that night a few weeks ago, when he had shaken Raphael out of a particularly violent nightmare and Raphael had told him everything about Camille. About her abuse, about her assault. How he still feels her hands on his body, still feels like she’s watching him even now she’s dead. Releasing Camille had sent Raphael right back to his early fledgling days, when he was powerless and vulnerable. And it had been Simon’s fault that he was remembered of the abuse he had to endure.

“No,” he says, thinking about Raphael’s cool tears when he had stuttered incoherent sentences about her demanding lips and strong hands, “No, you really don’t.”

iv.

To Simon’s absolute delight, the annual Sessimonium takes place in Venice this year. The one in Italy, Europe, he might add. He’s never even left the United States, let alone travelled to Europe, so he’s almost vibrating with excitement on the night of their departure.

“We’ll be gone for a few days,” Raphael informs Lily. He’d been stressing about leaving the clan for weeks, but Lily is more than capable of handling them for a couple of days. She patiently nods at everything Raphael tells her, hums at the right times and promises to call him every day to update him on everything.

“Please don’t start any wars while I’m gone,” he says. “Keep our alliances strong.”

“Raphael, you’ll only be gone for a week. Besides, all the leaders will be in Venice. Who would start wars if they don’t have leaders to follow into battle?”

“You can never be too sure,” he mutters. Lily rolls her eyes at him and reaches out to cup his cheeks, pulling him towards her to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Everything will be just fine ,” she assures him. “Say hi to Willow for me. Tell her to come visit when she has the time.”

Raphael chuckles lightly at that. “You want me to play messenger between you and your girlfriend?”

Lily slaps him on the arm. “She’s not my girlfriend! Yet . Just say hi, alright?”

“Alright, alright. I will. Any specific messages you want me to deliver while I’m there?”

Lily tilts her head and pats Raphael on the cheek. “Your innocent virgin mind wouldn’t be able to handle them, so no.”

Simon doesn’t miss the light blush creeping up Raphael’s face before he promptly turns around and heads to the Portal.

“I’ll call you later,” he throws over his shoulder, cheeks tainted red.

“I’ll be longingly awaiting your call by the house phone,” Lily sighs, dramatically putting her hand on her forehead as if she’s about to faint. Simon snickers and makes a move to follow Raphael, but Lily grabs his wrist before he can.

“Hey,” she says, jabbing a finger into his direction, “you take care of him, alright? He isn’t used to being a leader amongst other leaders. He can get overwhelmed when he’s stressed, so just – just look out for him.”

“Yeah,” Simon nods. “Yeah, of course I’ll look out for him. Don’t worry, Lily.”

Lily looks over his shoulder at Raphael, who’s now impatiently waiting for Simon to join him so they can leave.

“I always worry about him,” she sighs. Then she lets go off Simon’s wrist and jerks her chin into Raphael’s direction.

“Better get going,” she says. “Don’t want to be late.”

Simon nods once more and joins Raphael at the Portal.

“Let’s go,” Raphael says before stepping through the Portal.

Simon follows right behind.

V.

Simon has never seen so many Downworlders in the same room. He didn’t think they were even capable of being around each other without attacking each other, but they all seem to be getting along just fine. Everyone is chatting and laughing, a colorful mix of Warlocks and Seelie and vampires and werewolves alike.

They haven’t even been in the venue for a solid five minutes when someone throws themselves at Raphael. Simon is immediately on guard, his instincts kicking in as he drops his fangs and hisses, but then he realizes the person flinging themselves at Raphael is Meliorn, and that he’s embracing him instead of attacking him.

Raphael laughs as he throws his arms around Meliorn’s waist. He presses the Seelie close to his chest for a second before letting go to greet him properly.

“So the Queen let you come with her this time?” He asks.

Meliorn smirks at him, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s just say I can be very persuasive when need be.”

Raphael makes a face. “Please spare me of your sex life.”

Meliorn shrugs. “I’ll find someone else to talk about it with. Anyway, it’s been too long since we last saw each other. Care to join me for some drinks?”

“Maybe later,” Raphael declines. “The ceremony is about to start and I’ll be speaking, so I’d prefer not to be drunk when doing so.”

“Since when did you become so responsible?” Meliorn sighs. He turns to Simon and jerks his thumb into Raphael’s direction. “He used to drink me under the table at these gatherings. He was way more fun when he wasn’t a leader.”

“Oh, really?” Simon muses. “I find it very hard to picture Raphael as fun .”

Meliorn laughs. “Oh, did he never tell you about the little adventures we used to go on with Magnus? There’s a reason why we can’t enter Peru anymore, you know – ”

“Okay!” Raphael interrupts, pushing Meliorn away. “That’s enough for now. I’m here for business, not to get embarrassed by you.”

“Aw, come on, it was about to get interesting!” Simon complains. Meliorn winks at him before Raphael can push him into the crowd.

“I’ll tell you all about it later!” He promises. He gives Raphael a quick kiss on his nose and bounces away, almost immediately blending into the crowd.

“I didn’t know you two were friends,” Simon says when Raphael returns to him, wiping at his nose.

Raphael’s expression softens.

“We are. Have been since I was barely older than a fledgling. He’s one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

“A friend that got you banned from Peru?”

Raphael grins. “A story for another time.”

“Darn it!” Simon groans. “I saw a glimpse of fun Raphael and now you’re keeping him from me? I’m pretty sure this can be filed as domestic abuse.”

“Mhh, sure,” Raphael agrees. He takes Simon’s arm and pushes through the crowd, occasionally stopping to chat with someone and introduce Simon as his partner.

“Impressive,” a female vampire whistles. “First year attending as a leader and you have a partner by your side to secure your status. Not many fresh leaders can say the same.”

“What can I say,” Raphael smiles diplomatically. “I come prepared.”

The other vampire hums and scans Simon from head to toe. Raphael tenses next to him, probably scared she’ll realize they aren’t actually dating, so Simon slips his hand in the back pocket of Raphael’s pants and presses him closer to his side.

“He’s young,” she remarks.

“He can talk for himself,” Simon replies without thinking. He immediately regrets it, not sure if partners are even supposed to talk or just need to be quiet and look pretty, but Raphael’s diplomatic smile turns into a proud grin.

The other vampire looks offended. She takes a sip from her blood cocktail, licks her lips and says: “Of course. How old are you exactly, - ”

“Simon,” Simon replies. “And I got Turned when I was eighteen, which is almost a year ago now.”

“So still a fledgling.”

“Still a fledgling,” Simon nods.

The vamp turns back to Raphael, swirling her drink in her glass. “I know you’ve always liked them young, Raphael. But this young? It’s – well, it’s almost hard to believe you’d consider someone this immature to be your partner.”

Raphael narrows his eyes. “Are you calling me a liar?”

The woman smiles. It reminds Simon too much of how Camille used to smile; cold, calculated. If snakes could smile, it would look like this.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to bribe an impressionable fledgling into pretending to be their partner to impress other vampire leaders. It never ends well.”

“That’s nice and everything,” Simon says, “and I would love to stand here and listen to you implying that I’m not really Raphael’s boyfriend, but we have places to be. It was nice to meet you, - ”

“Ophelia.”

Simon smiles bitterly. “Ophelia. But we truly have to get going now.”

He lets his hand slide out of Raphael’s pocket to take his hand instead, pulling him away from Ophelia. Simon doesn’t stop walking until he’s sure they’re far enough away for her to lose interest in eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Thank you,” Raphael says once they stop walking. “Ophelia is one of the vampires that dislikes me the most. She used to be friends with Camille, and she blames me for her downfall. She’ll do anything to make this harder for me.”

“She’s annoying,” Simon says. Then he reaches out to place his hand on the spot between Raphael’s neck and shoulder, caressing his skin with his thumb. He’s seen vampires do it before, so he guesses it’s a sign of affection. Raphael locks eyes with him and Simon’s knees turn weak for just a moment before he recomposes himself.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I think we handled her just fine.”

Raphael smiles.

“I’m glad you’re here, Simon.”

Simon feels a blush creep up his face. He used to blush a lot when he was still human and one of the only perks of being undead had been the pale cheeks, but somehow, vampires still managed to blush. To ordinary, Mundane eyes, they always remained as pale as ever, but trained vampire eyes could see the faint red set high up their cheeks.

“Of course,” he grins, trying to pretend the blush isn’t there at all. “I didn’t have anything better to do anyway.”

Raphael rolls his eyes at him. He takes his hand and starts guiding him to the front of the room, where a big podium is set up. Simon has to fight the urge to intertwine their fingers as they walk. Somehow, that feels too intimate. Almost as if this is real. Which it isn’t . Unfortunately.

Raphael guides them to the edge of the podium, where more Downworlders are waiting for the ceremony to start. They’re all holding some sort of speech, quietly murmuring it to themselves.

“What are you gonna say?” Simon asks.

Raphael exhales deeply. “I have to talk about Camille, unfortunately. Mention her death. Then a brief summary of those fallen in the last year, those who fell out of grace or betrayed us.”

Simon gulps.

“You’re not – you’re not gonna talk about me , right?”

Raphael makes a face at him. “Do I look like an idiot to you? Of course I’m not going to talk about you.”

Simon sighs with relief. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be revealed as a traitor in a room full of Downworlders. If there’s one thing that unites them, it’s their opinion on treason. He’d be lynched right there on the spot.

“Are others going to talk about the people they lost too?”

Raphael nods.

“It’s like a mass funeral. Of course we all mourned our loved ones when they died and we said goodbye in our own ways, but it’s some sort of… act of solidarity, I guess. To show that we’re one people, all mourning the lost lives of our brothers and sisters.”

“The Shadowhunters think you all can’t stand each other.”

“The Shadowhunters don’t care enough about us to get to know our traditions,” Raphael scoffs. “Besides, it’s better if they do think we don’t like each other. If they get to think they’re the strongest species in the Downworld, they won’t see us as a threat and will leave us alone. A win-win situation.”

“But, like – you guys could overthrow the Clave if you wanted to.”

Raphael pulls up a shoulder in a half-shrug. “We could. After all, all the Shadowhunters are just some Mundanes with special rune power. But we choose not to.” Then he flashes his fangs in a devious grin. “Well, not yet, at least.”

Simon has to tear his eyes from Raphael’s lips, his mischievous smile. He tries to hide how hot he finds it when Raphael is like this – powerful and almost dangerous – and instead focuses on looking around to the other Downworlders that will be speaking.

He recognizes some of them. There are some werewolves he remembers from some of Luke’s pictures, a Warlock that tried to hit on him in a club. He doesn’t recognize any of the elegant Seelies, but that’s probably because ordinary Seelies aren’t invited to the gathering. All the Seelies present are royalty, kings and queens of their kingdoms. Raphael once told him Seelie leaders weren’t elected. All their leaders are supposedly direct descendants of Freya, goddess of fertility and love. Whether or not that’s actually true, Simon doesn’t even want to know. He can handle angels, demons and Downworlders, but actual gods ? That’s a step too far even for him.

He observes the other Downworlders for a while, until some soft violin music starts playing. The room falls silent at once, all eyes turning to the podium. Four people take the stage and walk forward.

“Welcome, everyone,” one of them says. Simon recognizes him from Luke’s pictures, but doesn’t know his name.

“We are glad to see so many familiar faces this year,” someone else says. She’s wearing a long, white gown with an open back, exposing her curly flower tattoos. She must be a Seelie queen. “And some new ones.”

“And we mourn those we lost in the year,” a third person continues. Simon knows they’re a warlock because of their Warlock mark; big, curly horns on the top of their head.

A fourth person steps forward. Simon does know who this is, but only because Raphael forced him to attend his ‘classes’ about vampire history and politics.

“We do hope your stay here will be pleasant, and you will reconnect with old friends,” Aphrodite says. She’s one of the oldest vampires alive, having lived long enough to see people build the pyramids. Her skin is dark as the night and her hair is braided into an impressive work of art. Over the centuries, she has known a lot of names. Every once in a while, when all her loved ones she had made in that era have passed and she is the last one standing, she will change her name as a way of starting over again. There are a lot of rumors about how many names she’s had, but for now, she goes by the name Aphrodite. Goddess of beauty.

“Now,” she continues, “we’d like to give the word to some of our friends.” She gestures to the Downworlders standing at the edge of the podium, and they start climbing it as if they’re one person. Simon stays behind, watching as Raphael takes the stage.

The mass funeral takes a while, but it never becomes boring. Simon listens intently to the Downworlder leaders calling out the names of their lost ones, occasionally making a more elaborated speech about them. Raphael talks about lost lives, about murdered vampires, about those who were sent to trial and never returned. And then he starts talking about Camille.

Simon has known Raphael long enough to see when he’s struggling. He notices his tense shoulders, his hands balled to fists by his sides. They’re trembling ever so slightly, probably not even visible to anyone else, but Simon sees.

“As many of you know, Camille died this year,” he says. Though his voice must sound steady and controlled to others, Simon hears his vulnerability in it. Hears the barely-there tremble.

“She was a… powerful vampire. She knew what she wanted and went for it. But her determination quickly turned into greed, and she started her own decay years ago. She was smart and cunning, but death happens to all of us.”

He doesn’t say she will be missed, like most leaders do about the people they lost. He doesn’t raise his glass in toast or wishes her a safe passage to whatever lies ahead. The room shifts uncomfortably at this blatant disrespect of the dead, but thankfully, another vampire leader starts speaking before the atmosphere can turn awkward.

Raphael remains tense and on edge throughout the entire ceremony, and when he can finally get off the stage, he immediately takes Simon’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Simon is surprised at Raphael’s need for physical comfort, but he squeezes back anyway.

“You did great up there,” he assures him.

“I didn’t,” Raphael says, not meeting Simon’s gaze. “I was supposed to be objective about her, respect her death, wish her farewell – whatever . But I just couldn’t – I couldn’t find anything nice to say about her. I kept thinking about how she ruled the clan, how we all forgot to live because we were too busy trying to survive. And how she – how she controlled me, used me. I know I was supposed to hope she got safely to her next stop, but all I could do was wish that she would rot in Hell.”

Simon notices the early signs of spiraling. He has to stop Raphael before he triggers himself into an episode, so he guides him away from the crowd into the hallway, where only a few people are chatting to one another.

“Raphael, look at me,” he demands, voice soft but urgent. He cups Raphael’s cheeks and lifts his head so he’ll look at him. “You’re doing amazing. You can’t be this hard on yourself all the time, okay? You’re a survivor of her abuse. It’s okay to not want her to continue living in some vampire afterlife. It’s okay to wish her double dead. Cut yourself some slack, Raph.”

Raphael shakes his head.

“I can’t be weak, Simon. I can’t let her control me.”

“You’re not. You’re healing, that’s something entirely different. How about we go to our room and refresh ourselves before dinner is served, alright? You can take a bath, read a book. Get your mind off it. You’ll feel better.”

“Okay, yeah,” Raphael agrees. “That’s a good idea.”

Simon smiles at him, again placing his hand in the crook of his neck to briefly caress his skin before pulling back and walking towards the elevator.

v.

Raphael looks visibly relaxed after soaking in the bath for well over an hour. He emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair slick against his temples, a few water droplets still clinging to his skin. Simon only allows himself a brief glance before refocusing on the book he’d been reading. He doesn’t look up, not even when Raphael drops the towel to get dressed.

“Feel better?” Simon eventually asks, eyes forcefully glued to the novel in his hands.

“Much better. You’re right, Simon. Sessimonium used to be so much fun. Certainly it can’t hurt to enjoy myself a bit more and worry a bit less.”

Simon smiles, though he isn’t sure if Raphael sees. “Of course I’m right. I used to be your advisor for a reason.”

Raphael snorts as he buttons up his shirt. “I made that title up, you know. To keep you close so I could keep my eye on you.”

Simon feigns shock, clutching his chest as if he’s clutching his pearl necklace.

“My, oh, my, Raphael Santiago, a liar ? Who would’ve thought that advisor to the interim chapter president wasn’t a real title?”

Raphael looks at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Well, if you knew the title wasn’t real, why did you still take the position?”

Simon shrugs, now completely abandoning his book. “Because I liked it. I liked the sense of control it gave me. I knew my life was no longer in my control, so it calmed me knowing that I’d at least have some say in clan matters. At least, you pretended like I did.

“I didn’t pretend,” Raphael says, adjusting his collar. “I always took what you said in consideration. Between all the rambling and bickering and complaining, you sometimes had some insightful things to say.”

Simon smiles at the compliment. He always did try to advise Raphael as best he could in the short period of time he was his advisor. He lost that position after his betrayal and he knows better than to ask for it back now, but he’s glad to know Raphael enjoyed having as an advisor nevertheless.

Simon gets up when he sees Raphael is finished getting dressed. They’re expected at a dinner party he isn’t particularly looking forward to, but then Raphael offers him his arm to hold and flashes him an encouraging smile, and suddenly Simon wishes this night would go on forever.

*

Simon really doesn’t remember why exactly he wasn’t looking forward to the dinner party in the first place. Maybe it’s because he had expected it to be like any other dinner party he’d ever gone to; boring and way too formal.

But this isn’t an ordinary dinner party. How could it be? He isn’t exactly surrounded by ordinary people.

The venue has completely changed since the few hours it’s been since they’d last been here. The podium has made room for several round tables, set up around the big dance floor. The windows are draped in tiny fairylights, almost giving the impression that it’s daytime. There’s rhythmic folk music coming from somewhere, though Simon can’t immediately spot a band.

He and Raphael are joined at their table by Magnus, Meliorn, Luke, Alaric and Maia, and Raphael quickly changes into someone more carefree around them. He allows himself to drink more bloodwine than he’d usually allow, laughs louder at jokes than he’d normally do. Simon likes this version of him, this free spirit surrounded by friends instead of followers. With them, Raphael can be like he is with Simon. 

Dinner goes by in a blur. The non-vampires get served course after course, while the vampires get served as much spiked blood as they please. They eat and drink and laugh over old stories Simon has never heard before, and Meliorn even manages to get Raphael onto the dancefloor for a brief moment. They dance to an upbeat song, moving to the rhythm of the violins and the drums. Simon watches in amazement as Raphael laughs out loud, exhilarating and happy. He wishes he could be like this all the time.

Raphael excuses them right before sunrise. Simon can feel exhaustion tugging at him, vampire instincts telling him to find a safe place to spend the day, and he’s more than happy to comply when Raphael pulls him to his feet.

“Don’t forget we have a meeting first thing tomorrow night,” Luke reminds him. Simon can feel Raphael freeze next to him, but his voice is steady and confident as he replies.

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “Read up on the Accords and all the loopholes in them. If we want to demand a re-write to the Clave, we’ll have to bring the facts.”

Raphael rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, dad . I’ll do my homework.”

“Huh,” Maia says, “I thought Magnus was your dad.”

Meliorn snickers into his wine. “Maybe they share custody over him.”

“Oh, in that case,” Magnus says as he points a finger at Raphael, “don’t talk to your father like that.”

“Nobody is my dad!” Raphael cuts them off. “Stop making me and Simon weird.”

“Yeah,” Simon agrees. “Luke, you know you’re like a father to me. Don’t make Raphael and me oddly incestuous.”

Luke chuckles. “Okay, okay. It would be you and Clary all over again.”

“ Don’t ,” Simon warns. Raphael looks from him to Luke, confusion written all over his face.

“You and Clary?” he repeats.

“ Do not -”

“It was the summer of 2011,” Luke starts, dramatically gesturing with his arms. Simon sighs loudly and sinks back into his chair. “Clary and Simon had somehow convinced themselves that they had to date each other because they were best friends.”

“Wait,” Maia frowns. “Isn’t Clary gay?”

“Oh, she is,” Luke grins. “She didn’t know back then, though. Anyway, I caught them having an extremely awkward first kiss. I’m talking about visible spit and weird angles and all that. So I gave them the talk - you know, about being raised together and both seeing me as a father.”

“Yeah, and then Clary broke down crying because she thought she might be gay,” Simon remembers. He’d felt really bad about it at the time, thinking his terrible kissing skills had been the reason she thought she was gay. Either way, they both agreed that the kiss had been the most stupid thing they’d ever done and never spoke of it again. Every once in a while though, Luke brought it up just to embarrass him.

“She did. And then you broke down crying because you thought you might be into boys.”

“Wow, what a mess,” Maia says.

“Well, I guess we’re just a messy family,” Luke admits.

“Okay, I thought we were going back to our room,” Simon says before Luke can bring up any more embarrassing stories.

“I don’t know,” Raphael grins. “I kind of like these childhood stories of yours.”

“I’m sure I could go find Magnus to dig up some of your embarrassing stories.”

“Okay, time to leave!” Raphael says quickly. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, so that gets you to leave?” Simon wonders as he lets himself be dragged to the elevators. “Is it the thing that got you banned from Peru?”

“Hey, that was not my fault,” Raphael says.

“If you just told me the story, I could decide for myself.”

Raphael turns around after pressing the button of the elevator, glaring at him.

“No.”

Simon groans. “I’ll find out eventually.”

Raphael pats his cheek and smiles. “Maybe. But you won’t be hearing it from me.”

Simon rolls his eyes at him and follows him into the elevator. They ride the few floors in comfortable silence, Raphael standing with his arm pressed against Simon's. Simon barely registers the touch anymore, being used to it by now. Raphael has a very short list of people being allowed to touch him and Simon prides himself in the fact that he's one of them. 

Raphael takes the time to brush through his hair once they get to their room, but Simon is suddenly so exhausted that he can barely kick off his shoes before collapsing on their bed. He wiggles out of his pants but is too tired to even start unbuttoning his shirt so he snuggles up into the mattress like that. 

Raphael gets in bed shortly after. 

"Simon," he tuts once he sees Simon still wearing his shirt. "Take your shirt off, it's gonna wrinkle." 

"Mhh," Simon mumbles, barely opening his eyes enough to look at him. He tries to turn his back to Raphael but Raphael quickly grabs his arm and turns him on his back. 

"Raph, I'm tired," Simon complains. 

"I know, I know. Let me get your shirt off for you so I can sleep peacefully." 

Simon smiles sleepily. 

"If you wanted to get my shirt off you should've just asked. And maybe not have allowed me to drink so many Bloody Mary's. Now I'm no fun anymore."

His eyes are open enough for him to see Raphael smile to himself. "You're always fun," he says affectionately. Then he quickly unbuttons Simon's shirt and helps him out of it. He neatly folds it on a chair before finally getting into bed with Simon. 

They've shared a bed multiple times before, so it feels warmly familiar when Raphael shuffles closer to him. He gives Simon a quick kiss on the forehead before rolling on his other side.

"Goodnight, baby," he says softly. 

Simon barely registers the nickname. 

"Goodnight," he sighs, and then he's asleep. 

vi.

Raphael wakes him up the next night by throwing a pillow in his face.

“Rise and shine, baby,” he grins when Simon jerks up and glares at him. He’s sure he doesn’t really look intimidating with his hair pressed flat where he slept on it, but that doesn’t mean he won’t scowl at Raphael on his way to the bathroom.

“If you want to be a believable boyfriend, you should really start working on being nicer to me,” he mutters as he reaches for his toothbrush. Raphael pops up behind him, looking at him in the mirror.

“I am nice to you,” he counters. “I could’ve gotten some water to wake you up, but instead I chose the pillow. See? Nice.”

Simon huffs. “Thanks, I guess.”

Raphael stalks closer to him, not taking his eyes off him in the mirror. Simon freezes, unsure of what exactly Raphael is doing, and bites his lip to try and suppress a needy sigh when he gets so close he can feel warmth radiating off him. It’s weird. Other vampires still feel cold when Simon touches them. But Raphael – Raphael always seems to be warm around him. Almost as if he’s alive.

“Okay,” he says when he’s right behind Simon, looking over his shoulder to watch him in the mirror. “What would I have to do to be a believable boyfriend?”

Simon turns around to face him, back pressed against the sink. They’re standing so close their chests are almost touching, but Raphael doesn’t look like he’s planning on taking a step back. 

Simon swallows thickly.

“You could – uh,” Simon starts, voice shaking ever so slightly, “I don’t – I… do vampires, like, hold hands? Is that something we consider as showing… affection?”

Raphael shrugs. “Some of us do. But we have other stuff to show our affection, though.”

“Like… like what?”

“You’ve done it before,” Raphael says. He lifts his hand and places it in the crook of Simon’s neck, caressing his pulse point with his thumb. Simon tries not to squirm under his touch to hide his pleasure. “We’re all really sensitive on our necks. That’s the main body part we touch if we want to show affection.”

“Okay, well,” Simon says breathlessly, “do that more in public.”

Raphael cocks a bow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine, I will. Now, be ready in ten. We have a meeting to attend.”

*

Simon doesn't mind standing next to Raphael and looking pretty, or going with him to dinner parties, or even diplomatically smiling while Raphael talks to one of the other clan leaders. What he does mind, however, is the boring meetings they still have to attend. 

Several Downworlder leaders are present during this meeting. They're sitting at a giant round table in an even bigger round room, where the windows cover the walls from ceiling to floor. Simon longs for the world on the other side of those windows, for the city of Venice at night and the comfortable buzzing of people enjoying the warm summer evening. They haven't even gone on a gondola ride yet. They might as well have organized Sessimonium in the hotel in New York if they aren't even going to explore the city. 

Simon sits impatiently, listening to the speakers but not really registering what they're talking about. They're going through the entire Accords painstakingly slow, Raphael following along in his own thick copy of them. Whenever someone has an objection about a law or rule, they spend several minutes discussing alternatives they could present to the Clave. 

Raphael makes an objection about a law stating that it is illegal for Downworlders to have a change of leadership without informing the Nephilim and the Warlock leading the meeting starts discussing an alternative for the law when the same vampire as yesterday, Ophelia, cuts him off. 

"I refuse to discuss laws of leadership with a mutineer," she says, calculated disdain in her eyes as she looks at Raphael. Raphael looks back at her, a challenge on his slightly curled lips. 

"I was acquitted of my charges of mutiny," he says calmly. "My clan vowed for me." 

"Of course they vowed for you. Everyone on Camille's side fled once you took her throne." 

Raphael's lips curl in a venomous smile. 

"The fact that they fled says more about them than about me." 

Simon remembers the desertion. It was right after Raphael claimed the throne of the clan after Camille had killed Simon. She had blatantly disobeyed the Accords by kidnapping and killing him, so most of the clan immediately sided with Raphael. Some clan members, those loyal to Camille, fled the hotel shortly after Camille had been locked up in the basement. They were scared of what Raphael would do to those loyal to her, so they chose desertion instead. Some of Raphael's loyalists tracked them down and killed some of them against Raphael's wishes. Though Raphael didn't like it, he also knew their laws against treason. The murders had been justified and couldn't be used against him or his clan when Raphael stood trial for mutiny. Surely Ophelia must know that too.

"You let them get killed," Ophelia spats. "Your own family. And for what? For power. For fame."

"That's enough, Ophelia," Luke warns. "You know the rules. Clans are allowed to punish traitors however they see fit."

Ophelia's eyes dart to Luke's, disdain replaced with fire. 

“He allowed Camille to be murdered! Her blood is on his hands, and now we’re allowing him to take her place as leader? To sit where she sat, to speak for the New York clan when he isn’t the rightful leader? It isn’t right . He should be punished for his crimes, not be rewarded for them.”

“ His crimes?” Simon echoes. Anger is suddenly clawing its way through his throat like a feral animal. “Do you have any idea what Camille did? To me, to the clan? To him ? She committed countless crimes and she was punished for them. That’s justice. Raphael was her second in command, which means he is the rightful new leader.”

“But he overthrew her when she was still alive!” Ophelia shouts. Her careful mask is cracking, and behind it Simon sees nothing but hot anger. “Is this how we rise to power now? Mutiny? Betrayal? Coming up with schemes to get her arrested and put on trial? Where’s the justice in that?” She looks around the table, desperate for someone to agree with her. Every Downworlder is eerily quiet now, not daring to put themselves between Ophelia and her search for vengeance. 

“Magnus,” she continues, almost desperately. “You knew her. You loved her. Look me in the eye and tell me she deserved this. That she deserved to be tortured and burned by the Clave.”

Magnus presses his lips in a thin line, balling his hand into a fist on the table.

“Nobody deserves punishment by the Clave,” he starts carefully, words chosen wisely. 

Raphael takes a sharp breath as if he was just punched in the face.

“But,” Magnus continues, looking at Raphael, “she did break the law. Not only Nephilim law, but Downworlder law as well. She got her clan addicted to Mundane blood. She broke the Accords on multiple occasions. She created dozens of new fledglings, only to neglect them so that they went feral and became a threat to Downworlders and Mundanes alike.”

“We all deserve a second chance,” Ophelia tries. Her eyes are big and wet and she looks paler than ever, and oh. Simon realizes she hadn’t just been Camille’s friend. She’d been in love with her.

“She got a second chance. And a third, and fourth, and fifth,” Magnus reminds her. “But she continued to terrorize her own people. I’m sorry, Ophelia. But she was put on trial and punished for what she did. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it. It is what it is.”

Ophelia snarls. She snaps her head back at Raphael, her façade crumbling until there’s only pure hatred written on her face.

“This is your fault. She should’ve killed you when she got the chance! You’re not a real leader, no matter how fancy your suits or how big your words. You’ll always be that useless fledgling you were when she let you into her clan. You’ll always be weak and pathetic. You’re nothing , Raphael Santiago. You’ll never be half the leader Camille was.”

Raphael is shocked into silence. He’s grabbing the armrests of his chair so hard the wood cracks, but his lips are pressed together in a grimace. 

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Simon warns, voice flat. The anger is in his chest now, hot and red and merciless. His fingers are itching to wrap around her throat.

Ophelia growls at him.

“Nobody asked you, fledgling! Raphael has been hiding behind pretty men since he first became a vampire. First Magnus, then Meliorn. Now you. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s worthless . Camille always said he was, and now I know it’s true."

“That’s enough , Ophelia,” Magnus interrupts. His glamour has dropped, and he looks dangerous when he glares at her. “This is an official meeting. If you cannot behave yourself, you have to leave.”

But Ophelia doesn’t even seem to hear him. Her eyes are fixated on Raphael, who looks smaller by the second. It’s as if his entire being has deflated and he’s trying to fight the urge to curl into himself and make himself as small as possible. For the first time since Simon has known him, Raphael doesn't know what to say. 

But he doesn't need to say anything anyway. Ophelia, displeased by the lack of reaction she's getting out of Raphael, is up and over the table in less than a second. She lunges at Raphael with a snarl, arms outstretched as she pushes herself off the table. 

Before she can even touch Raphael, she's intercepted mid-air by Simon. He doesn't even realize he's moving until he slams Ophelia on the table, hissing at her. Ophelia hisses back, fangs sharp and dangerously close to Simon's neck. All diplomacy she once displayed has melted away, leaving a feral creature of the night in its place. 

"I'll kill you!" She screeches, eyes darting between Simon and Raphael. "I'll make you pay for what you've done!" 

An ancient instinct awakens in the back of Simon's mind. Suddenly, nothing seems more important than eliminating this threat to Raphael's life. He slams Ophelia's reaching claws on the table, holding them above her head with one hand and wrapping a hand around her throat with the other one. 

"If you ever threaten his life again I will make sure it'll be the last thing you do," he says, his voice unfamiliar even to his own ears. Ophelia claps her jaws at him but stops struggling. Once she's completely still, Simon gets off and takes his seat again next to Raphael. Raphael looks at him in surprise, mixed with something close to pride. 

Nobody mentions what Simon did as Ophelia gets up. She quietly leaves the room, only glaring at Raphael as she goes. Simon growls softly, threateningly. Ophelia looks at him, pulls her lip up in a snarl, and then she's gone. 

The meeting resumes as normal after that. It's not unseen for things to get heated sometimes, most of the leaders there having witnessed several fights during meetings over the years. It's normal for partners to defend their lover, certainly in vampire circles. Nobody bats an eye at Simon's display of loyalty to Raphael, not even Simon himself. They might not be really together, but that doesn't make his feelings for Raphael any less sincere. 

Raphael scolds him only briefly after the meeting is over and everyone else has left the room. After Simon has apologized, Raphael nudges him gently and offers him an intimate smile. 

"Thank you, Simon. She caught me off guard. Though I don't really approve of your… methods , I do appreciate you standing up for me." 

Simon shrugs. "I didn't even think about it. She was attacking you, so I had to do something."

"I'm glad to know I chose to bring you as my partner and apparently my bodyguard." 

"What can I say," Simon smiles. "Everything to keep up appearances, right?"

Raphael's smile falters, but only a little. 

"Right," he says. Then, as he stands, "come on, I think you deserve a gondola ride after that." 

*

They take their lunch while standing on one of the many bridges Venice has to offer, looking down at the very few gondolas still drifting around. It’s nearly 1am and most tourists have found their way back to their hotels by now. Venice isn’t exactly a party scene, only having a few bars and no clubs, so the streets are almost empty by now. The ancient city does have several Downworlder cafés though, and Raphael treated Simon to a blood milkshake before they came to the bridge.

“Do you ever miss normal food?” Simon muses, taking a sip of his paper to-go cup. He can almost pretend he’s drinking some coffee, until the rich taste of blood hits his tongue.

Raphael shrugs, looking over the water to the crescent moon.

“Sometimes. Blood isn’t as exciting as Mundane food. Sure, you can pour some alcohol in it or pretend it’s a milkshake, but it’s not the same as chili or birthday cake or enchiladas.” 

“I think I miss my mom’s homemade lasagna the most,” Simon sighs. His friends would always stay for dinner when Elaine made her famous vegetarian lasagna.

“You know, I still have dreams about my mother’s stew,” Raphael says. Simon looks at him, not used to Raphael sharing parts of his life before his Turning. Over the almost year Simon has known him, Raphael has only shared snippets of his human life. The name of his mother, the ages of his younger brothers. He knows next to nothing about his life before he became a vampire, so whenever Raphael decides to share something about it with him, he’s more than glad to listen.

“She always made enough stew for the entire neighborhood,” Raphael continues, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We never had much money, but she made sure every child on our block went to bed with a full stomach. I helped her make it when I got older, and then after…” He looks for the right word. When he doesn’t find it, he just makes a gesture at himself and continues: “Once I learned to control myself, I went back and helped her again. It was never the same though. I tried eating the stew, but it tasted rotten and it just made me sick. Not even the smell was appealing anymore. She handed down the recipe to me and my brothers, but I can’t bring myself to make it anymore.” Raphael’s sad smile turns into a grimace at the memory. Simon waits for him to continue the story, but it seems like he’s done sharing his past for tonight. Simon tries to think about something to say to cheer him up, and when his words fail him, he just takes his hand and leads him off the bridge.

“Come on,” he says, pulling Raphael along. He guides them down to the water, finds a gondolier and digs into his pockets to pay for the ride. Raphael lets himself be pulled into the gondola and Simon sits down next to him, still holding his hand as the gondolier pushes them off the pavement and guides the boat through the water.

It’s not as romantic as Simon would’ve found it when he was still human. When he was still human, he probably wouldn’t have smelled that the water reeks of rotting fish. He wouldn’t have noticed the sour smell of sweat whafting off the gondolier. His eyes wouldn’t have been strong enough to see the trash drifting in the water, right below the surface. But he still enjoys the way the moonlight reflects in Raphael’s dark eyes, how quiet the night is around them. Ever since his Turning, nothing had ever been quiet around him anymore. And, granted, he can still hear the heartbeats of people sleeping closeby and the way some old bridges sigh and moan as they settle after a day of scorching sun, but the gentle swaying of the gondola and the soft humming of its driver bring him peace.

Raphael seems to like it too. He visibly relaxes next to Simon and exhales deeply.

“This is nice,” he says eventually.

“As if I’d drag you to anything that isn’t nice.”

“You dragged me to that winter fair a few months ago. Where that Mundane threw up all over my shoes. Remember?”

Simon snickers. “Oh, I remember. You should’ve seen your face.”

Raphael nudges him. Simon nudges him back and then lets his arm rest against Raphael’s arm. 

The ride is over way too quickly, and they soon find themselves back on solid ground. Raphael guides them back to the venue, staying close to Simon even when there aren’t any eyes to keep track of them. Simon would almost forget they’re pretending at all.

vii.

The rest of the night is rather uneventful. Simon stays close to Raphael’s side all through dinner, making sure Ophelia doesn’t corner him somewhere. He catches her glaring at them from across the room a few times, and he curls his lip in a snarl whenever he does. Ophelia glares at him but doesn’t dare come near.

There’s a party after dinner they stay at until the sun is rising. Simon enjoys himself with Raphael’s friends, playing drinking games he has never heard of before and listening to anecdotes about when Raphael was still young and the weight of the world wasn’t resting on his shoulders. Raphael pretends that he doesn’t like when the others bring up the shenanigans they used to get themselves into but he can barely hide his giddy grin when Magnus talks about their adventures.

The alcohol flows as easy as their conversation, and soon everyone around their table finds themselves pleasantly intoxicated.

“Okay, hear me out!” Magnus exclaims a few drinks later, when the rest of the table seems to be turning against him while telling the story Simon had been dying to hear. His eyes are glazed over and he’s red in the face, but he somehow still looks great. “She was in a bad relationship, okay? In a way, Meliorn and I helped her. I, for one, find it very ungrateful that they banned us from an entire country for, basically, an act of kindness.”

“You… kidnapped the wife of the president of Peru?” Simon summarizes.

“She wanted to leave!” Meliorn defends Magnus. “She basically begged us to take her with us. Her husband didn’t treat her right, you know. Never gave her an orgasm, always fell asleep right after sex, looking at younger women. Magnus and I showed her how real men treat women.”

“You had a threesome with her and then kidnapped her?!”

Magnus waves Simon off. “Kidnapping is such a hard word,” he says. “We just drove her to the border and then got caught by border security.”

“How did you only then get caught by the authorities?”

“That’s where Raphael enters the story!” Meliorn cheers, proudly throwing an arm around Raphael’s shoulders. Raphael smiles into his drink and leans into Meliorn’s touch. Something ugly stirs in the pit of Simon’s stomach, but he forces it down with a gulp of his cocktail.

“Yeah, your boyfriend seduced their personal driver into letting him borrow the presidential car and then drove us all the way to the border with Colombia. Unfortunately, the border security didn’t recognize either of us and the president’s wife couldn’t come up with fake identities fast enough, so we got arrested,” Magnus concludes.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t seduce anyone,” Raphael points out.

“Oh, right. I forgot Raphael doesn’t seduce ,” Magnus nods.

“No, he just has this natural ‘don’t talk to me, I’m better than you’ charm that drives men insane,” Meliorn agrees.

“I do not!”

“You do,” Meliorn says.

“Absolutely,” Luke says.

“Definitely,” Alaric finishes. 

“Okay, okay, fine!” Raphael gives in, his hands raised in surrender. “Either way, thank god Magnus used a spell on the judge that just got us banned instead of thrown into jail.”

Magnus shrugs. “I think I might’ve preferred jail over exile.”

“You’re joking,” Luke says, cop-voice and all.

“No, I’m not! What’s a decade or two behind bars when you’re immortal? Peru is one of my favorite countries and now I can never go there again.”

“You’re talking but all I’m hearing is ‘I can commit any crime because I don’t care about a few decades in jail’,” Alaric says.

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Magnus grins. Then, when he sees they aren’t amused, he throws his arms around their shoulders and kisses them both on the cheek. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I would never in my immortal life commit any crime that could imprison me. I’m an innocent angel.”

“New Orleans, 1967,” Raphael says.

“Seattle, 1980,” Meliorn adds.

“Anyway! Time to go to bed,” Magnus says quickly, rising to his feet. “Tomorrow is going to be a new, exhausting day and we all need to uphold our best appearances as leaders of our species. Except you, Meliorn. You can just roll out of bed however you like.”

“Auwtch,” Meliorn deadpans.

“Meliorn always looks great anyway,” Raphael says. Meliorn clinks his glass to his and kisses him on the cheek.

“Did I ever tell you all how much I love Raphael?” He asks.

“Yes,” Alaric says. “Almost every day. You’re so grateful to have him in your life and you would go into battle and die for him. We get it.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Meliorn winks. Magnus rolls his eyes at him a final time before excusing himself to his room. Luke and Alaric follow soon after, until it’s just Simon, Raphael and Meliorn left.

Meliorn and Raphael engage in another conversation, this time about Meliorn’s position in the Seelie court. He was able to work himself up as personal knight to the Queen, hence why he was able to come to the gathering this year as non-royalty. Simon quickly finds himself zoning out of the conversation, not really caring about it anyway. He can’t help the jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach as he observes Raphael and Meliorn together. They’d known each other for decades, had fought side by side in the same battles. Things like that bond people together in a way Simon could never live up to. And the way Meliorn threw himself into Raphael’s arms, how easily Raphael wrapped his arms around him… they would make sense together, Simon can’t deny that. And Meliorn’s status as knight at the Seelie court was certainly more impressive than Simon’s almost-not-a-fledgling-anymore status. 

He doesn’t notice he’s anxiously playing with his glass until it breaks under his touch. Simon startles, just like Raphael and Meliorn. 

“Shit,” he mutters. He quickly grabs some napkins to try to clean up the remainder of his Bloody Mary, ignoring the shards of glass digging into his skin. Raphael abandons his conversation with Meliorn in order to help Simon with the clean up.

“Here, let me,” Raphael says, taking the napkins from Simon. He swiftly cleans the blood from the tablecloth as best as he can and then takes Simon’s hand into his to pull out the shards of glass. Simon only realizes his hands are shaking when they’re resting in Raphael’s.

“What’s going on with you? Is everything alright?” Raphael asks when he notices the shaking. Simon looks up at him, not sure what to say. He can’t really blame the accident on his clumsiness anymore like he could as a Mundane. Even Simon lost that trait when he got Turned.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Meliorn says. He looks at Simon with an apologetic smile, as if he suddenly realized how his intimate conversation would make Simon feel, being Raphael’s partner and all.

Meliorn swiftly stands and leaves the two of them to it. Once he’s gone, Raphael frowns at Simon and places his hand in the crook of his neck, caressing his pulsepoint.

“Simon, what’s up? You’ve been quiet the entire night. Are you not feeling well?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to break that glass.”

“Don’t worry about the glass. Do you want to go to our room? It’s getting really late, the sun is already up.” Raphael glances at the thick, dark curtains covering the giant windows. “You must be tired. Come on, let’s go.” Raphael takes him by the hand and pulls him to his feet. Simon lets himself be guided to their room but can’t contain himself anymore once they step over the threshold.

“Did you and Meliorn ever, like, date?” He blurts. Raphael turns to look at him as he shrugs off his suit jacket.

“Uh, no. He’s not exactly my type.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t know why he’s even asking, but suddenly the answer seems like the most important thing in the world.

“Well, because he’s my friend, firstly. And I don’t really date fae folk. They’re too free-spirited for my taste. I like my partners monogamous. Why do you ask?”

Simon shrugs sheepishly.

“You just seem really… intimate with him. It made me wonder.”

Raphael’s expression softens. 

“I haven’t really been with anyone, Simon. The occasional flirt here and there but nothing more than that.”

“Well, why not? You’re attractive enough.”

Raphael sighs. He continues undressing before replying. Simon averts his gaze while he waits for a response. He feels his cheeks flush when Raphael has completely undressed, safe for his underwear.

“I know I’m attractive enough,” he says eventually. “This might sound crazy from your young fledgling perspective, but I’ve never really had the time for dating. If I wasn’t cleaning up after Camille I was gearing up for war and if I wasn’t gearing up for war I had to take care of my clan.” He shrugs to dismiss the topic of conversation and changes into his pajamas.

“Why do you care about my dating life anyway?” He asks as he gets into bed. Simon is still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room and quickly changes out of his clothes as well.

“I - uh, I figured I should know about your past as your partner. You know, so I can act jealous around possible exes.”

Raphael stares at him as Simon undresses. He was never one to really appreciate the common Mundane courtesy of giving one privacy. Simon had never minded, but suddenly he feels his cheeks burn up under his watchful gaze. 

“You have no reason to be jealous of Meliorn,” he eventually says. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Okay,” Simon nods. “Noted.”

“Is there anything else that’s bothering you? You seem… off.”

Simon crawls in bed, stalling his answer. He can’t just say that he really is jealous of Meliorn. That he wishes they didn’t have to pretend anymore, that he could just hold Raphael’s hand and kiss him without thinking about it as a strategy. But he can’t make it weird between them. He couldn’t possibly keep on pretending if Raphael rejects him, and he can’t jeopardize Raphael’s position like that.

So he just pulls the sheets over his head, assures Raphael that he’s fine, and turns off the lights.

*

Simon dreams about Raphael that day. It’s not the first time he dreams about him, about them together, but this time the dream feels so painfully real . He dreams about Sessimonium, but they’re not pretending this time. Simon is by Raphael’s side as his real partner, proudly standing beside him and kissing him in the corridor and taking him apart in their bed. He dreams about his neck, laid bare for Simon to kiss, and he dreams about exposing his own neck so Raphael can mouth at his dead pulsepoint.

He wakes up when the sun is still up, the sensation of Raphael’s lips still on his mouth. He’s disoriented for a brief moment, before he spots Raphael’s still frame next to him. The dream comes rushing back at the sight of him, Simon’s body suddenly warm where Raphael had touched him in his dream. The longing is almost unbearable. He just wants to reach out, press his body to Raphael’s, kiss him until he wakes up. His fingers are aching for the touch.

Simon doesn’t realize he’s crying until a bloody tear drips onto Raphael’s bare arm. 

Raphael is awake almost immediately, sitting up to scan the room for danger. Simon is quick to wipe his tears, but not quick enough for Raphael not to notice.

“I knew something was wrong,” he says, hands moving to grab Simon’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sick?”

“No, noth- nothing is wrong. I promise.”

“Then why are you crying?” Raphael’s hands move from Simon’s shoulders to his face, cupping his cheeks to make him look at him. The touch is so intimate, so like his dream, that Simon crumbles under his touch. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t sit here and pretend like this, what he feels for Raphael, is fake. So, without thinking about it anymore, Simon surges forward and crashes their lips together.

Raphael startles, hands momentarily freezing on Simon’s face, but he quickly composes himself. Simon had been scared that Raphael would break off the kiss and be angry at him for messing up this simple task, but instead, Raphael kisses him back.

Simon’s hands, which had been laying in his lap, reach up to grab into Raphael’s shirt. He pulls him closer to him, whimpering against his lips as they part for Simon’s tongue to explore his mouth.

They part after a few moments, both blushing furiously. Raphael’s eyebrows knit together and Simon reaches up to smooth the wrinkle.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I, uh. I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

Raphael bites his lip. Simon’s eyes dart back to his mouth and he has to fight the urge to kiss him again.

“What stopped you from doing it before?” Raphael asks.

Simon pulls up his shoulder in a half shrug.

“You never gave me the impression that you wanted me to.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Simon gestures between them, then at the room they’re staying in.

“I couldn’t stand pretending anymore. I want it to be real too badly.”

Raphael looks at him, seemingly at a loss for words. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and when he still can’t find the right words to say, he surges forward and kisses Simon again.

They stay like that, kissing and touching and caressing, until long after the sun has set.

viii.

The remaining two days of the gathering go by in a blur. Simon finds himself gravitating towards Raphael more easily now, holding his hand and pressing kisses to his cheek whenever he gets the chance. Raphael beams whenever he does, nudging him with his shoulder or gently kissing him in return. He seems to radiate more confidence now. It’s like it’s easier for him now that whatever it is between them is real , tangible. 

They’re walking back through a Portal to the Dumort before Simon fully registers it, and Lily is waiting for them on the other side. Raphael immediately asks her about any updates on clan matters and only stops pressing her when he seems sufficiently happy with her answers.

“So,” she says after the interrogation, “you two had fun?”

Raphael and Simon exchange a look.

"It was alright," Raphael eventually says. 

"Yeah," Simon agrees. "Some vampires were jealous of Raphael's success, but I handled it. We had the best Bloody Mary's, though." 

"Mhh," Lily hums, looking between the two of them. She looks like she wants to say something else, but then she just shrugs and walks away. 

"So," Simon says once they're alone again. "What do we do now we're back?" 

Raphael frowns. 

"What do you mean?" He asks. 

"Well, you know. Can I kiss you here? Or is that only reserved for once a year at the gathering?" 

Raphael elbows him on the arm, seemingly offended by Simon's implications. 

"Of course you can kiss me here. Why wouldn't you?" 

"Well, for starters, you're the leader of the clan and I'm just a fledgling." 

"Simon," Raphael says, taking a step closer to him. "You're not just a fledgling. I want people to know how I feel about you." 

Simon raises an eyebrow. 

"Yeah? And what exactly do you feel for me?" 

Raphael smiles.

"Let me show you," he says, and then he closes the space between them completely. 

They kiss in the middle of the lobby of the hotel, for any clan member to see. Raphael ignores the wolf whistles when someone walks by, only smiles into the kiss more. 

They part too soon for Simon's liking, but Raphael takes his hand to guide him to his room. 

Lily is appointed interim chapter president for the remainder of the night.