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“I like the way you handled yourself in this negotiation.” Raphael says, pleasantly surprised by Simon’s bravery to stand up to him and his loyalty to his friends. Maybe one day that loyalty would be transferred to Raphael and the clan. He hopes so. He hates the jealousy that wells within him when the fledgling chooses the Shadowhunters over him. ‘No,’ Raphael reprimands himself. ‘Over the clan, I mean.’ “Stick around.”
Simon is momentarily taken aback by that. Raphael wants him to stay. Not because of the Clave. Not because Clary asked him. But because he likes how he dealt with a situation. Simon can’t help but feel a flutter of joy at that. He also can’t help but notice the strength of Raphael’s jaw and tender skin of his neck when he indicates to the room around them with his head when telling Simon to ‘stick around’. Simon mentally shakes away the thought of what it would be like to trail his lips along that neck, under that jaw and splutters out: “I’m ambassador to the werewolves. It’s very… time consuming.” He frowns as he says it, confused by the thoughts plaguing his mind. Just moments ago, he had been gaping openly at Raphael’s toned biceps, bulging through his shirt, pretending that it was the hidden shelves full of blood that had caught his attention.
It’s not at all the first time such thoughts had been there. Ever since he had begun to spend more time with the older vampire, who had taken Simon under his metaphorical wing - because, much to Simon’s dismay, vampires couldn’t really turn into bats - Simon had begun to feel differently towards him. He blamed the fledging-to-vampire transition, which was ridiculously like puberty. There had been far too many times where Simon’s fangs had popped out whilst staring at Raphael, making them much like the vampire equivalent of a hard-on. Their favourite time to pop out seemed to be during Raphael and Simon’s fight training sessions, when the taller boy was pinned under Raphael. It had been confusing him immensely, not because Raphael was a guy, but because he thought he was in love with Clary. Being around Raphael, though, had become so easy and second-natured to Simon that he often felt himself entirely forgetting her.
Raphael smirks slightly, impressed by Simon’s resolve and also because he notices where his attention had been. “Let me take that burden off of your shoulders. As of now, you’ve been recalled.” His mind races for a viable justification as to why Simon should stay. ‘Because I’m not quite sure what I’d do if you got hurt. Because I don’t like being away from you. Because I care about you.’ Instead, he simply says: “You’re advisor to the interim chapter president.” He’s sure that’s not a real thing, but ensures that his voice is confident and steady as he says it.
Raphael’s voice is husky. Deep. Sexy. Simon feels a light blush colour his cheeks after thoughts such as that run through his treacherous mind. Simon struggles to remember the reason he’s at the Hotel Dumort to begin with. Because Jace is injured. Because Clary had asked for his help. In that moment, though, Simon struggles to hold onto that, so lost in Raphael. And Raphael, so lost in Simon, eyes never leaving his, boring into his very soul and reading all the secrets there. Raphael’s eyes are dark and mysterious, holding years of adventure, pain and perhaps pleasure. They hold so much emotion and drastically contrast the sharpness of his face and the sternness of his expression. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t take his breath away slightly. Not that he actually needed to breathe anymore, but the saying still applied, right? He attempts to cover up his thoughts by looking away from Raphael and rolling his eyes, a slight smile on his face as he opens his mouth to protest and say that’s not a real thing, but Raphael cuts him off.
“Don’t complain.” He says sternly. Simon is slightly scared and honestly rather aroused by Raphael’s insistence that he stays - it takes all of his willpower to stop his fangs from popping out, just as Raphael had taught him. The faintest smile teases Raphael’s lips, as he looks at Simon with amusement. Lazily, and admittedly rather reluctantly, he draws his eyes away to look directly at Clary. “My new advisor has to stay here.” Raphael states with finality. When the fledgling is in the room, Raphael struggles to register anyone else’s presence, always lost in the beautiful brown eyes that hold so much love and pain. Pain Raphael wished he could rid of. Pain he knew was partly caused by his unrequited feelings for Clary and perhaps even caused by Raphael himself, though he was trying his hardest to achieve redemption.
Raphael is snapped out of his thoughts when he hears a gentle: “It’s okay. Just go. Really,” come from the very person who has been occupying his thoughts so often recently. Clary looks slightly annoyed but accepts it. She must be worried about Simon, which bothers Raphael since he’s been doing all he can to ease Simon’s vampire transition.
“Thank you,” she says to Simon, pulling him in to kiss his cheek. It’s a kiss of friendship, trust, loyalty and love. Raphael suppresses a growl as he keeps his eyes trained on Simon, irrationally jealous of Clary’s relationship with him. She pulls away and looks at Raphael as she says “both of you.” He looks away from her, worried she’ll read the jealousy and desire in his eyes. From his peripheral vision, Raphael can see Simon watching Clary leave and he feels his heart sink. Sometimes he’s sure that Simon shares his interest, especially when he catches him staring or getting flustered. Then Clary comes and makes him question his ideas. As soon as she’s gone, Simon whirls around to glare at Raphael.
“What was all that about?! What even is an advisor to the int-” Before Simon can finish his question or Raphael can even think clearly about what he’s doing, he grabs both sides of Simon’s - well, his own - jacket and pulls him forward, joining their lips together with desperation. In those moments Simon was speaking, Raphael had decided - arguably stupidly - to go for it. To see once and for all if Simon felt the same way. No more games. Simon is hesitant to begin with, shock overtaking his body and just as his mind registers with alarm and delight that ‘RAPHAEL SANTIAGO IS KISSING ME!’ and begins to ease into the kiss, it’s over. Over far too soon. Raphael is looking at him with burning intensity. They remain so close that if breathing were still a thing for them their breath would be ghosting each other’s lips. Raphael takes Simon’s dilated pupils and the fact that he hasn’t run away as a good sign.
“The thought of you leaving,” Raphael whispers, “it angered and worried me in ways I couldn’t understand. I needed to think of a way to convince you to stay.” For a moment, there’s vulnerability and a possible apology written all over his sharp features before the poker face is back and Simon stands there, shocked, questioning whether he just imagined the whole thing.
“But just the other day you got mad at me and told me to take a walk.”
“Idiota,” Raphael says gently, his voice void of all its usual vehemence. “I meant for you to take a walk around the hotel. Not to leave. Being around you too much confused me. When we train I-” This time it’s Simon’s turn to disallow Raphael to finish his sentence. With newfound confidence, and a ninety percent surety that this is a dream, he surges forward to capture Raphael’s lips between his own. They feel even softer than they look.
“This isn’t real, is it? No one’s ever been that desperate for me to stay with them. Not enough to make up a fake position for me.” Simon says with a smirk, searching Raphael’s gentle eyes with his own. “I’ve also never made out with a hot guy before. Well, any guy at all really. Or a vampire. Or someone immortal and as old as you. This really is a day of firs-”
“Dios mío,” Raphael sighs, smiling affectionately. For the second time that day, he uses the only method in the world that can shut Simon Lewis up: he reaches forward and kisses him. This time it’s not quick and chaste, but slow and open, full of their pent-up emotions. Hands are tangled in hair and gripping jackets, pristine vampire appearances be damned. “This is definitely real, baby,” Raphael breathes, seeing the smile that graces Simon’s face before rejoining their lips once again.
Days later, at the Shadowhunter wedding of the century, Simon stares in bewilderment, his face lighting up with recognition as Magnus and Alec share a kiss so similar to his and Raphael’s. ‘Guys of the Shadow World really have a thing for intense jacket-grabbing make-out sessions don’t they?’ Simon thinks in amusement; he can’t wait to tell Raphael all about this later.