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Simon’s running early, for once in his post-alive life.
The sun is just dipping beneath the city skyline when he slips into the Institute, giving him plenty of time before the wedding actually starts. The front hall and main room are filled with flowers, drapey fabrics, and a lot of people in fancy dresses. It’s too ritzy for Simon’s taste, but then again not everyone can immaculately plan every detail of a Lord of the Rings themed wedding by the time they turn ten.
Apparently Alec getting married is the highlight of the Institute, given how many people are milling around. Simon won’t say he’s surprised- except how he totally is, since Alec isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type on his best days. Maybe other Shadowhunters see him more as a stoic hero archetype instead of just a grumpy loner.
“Simon!” Isabelle looks like her typical stunning self, with her dark red lips curved into a smile and a glass of champagne tightly clutched in one hand. There’s got to be something about angel blood that makes all Shadowhunters gorgeous, Simon thinks, not for the first time. She arches an eyebrow when she reaches him. “You clean up nice.”
Simon almost runs a hand through his hair before remembering it’s full of gel. Another courtesy of Raphael.
“How’s the groom-to-be?” he asks instead, distracted.
He hasn’t seen Clary yet, or anyone else he knows other than Isabelle. Simon feels like he stands out, even in Raphael’s snug suit; he’s already gotten a few side-eyes and dirty looks, which is probably because of the vampire thing. He’s still not sure how Shadowhunters can tell he’s a vampire - maybe he smells like the blood he had for dinner and Raphael didn’t tell him, which would be embarrassing. Granted it wouldn’t be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him, but he and Clary made a pact to never talk about that. Never.
He’s distracted for other reasons, though. This is it. Tonight is his big chance with Clary, and he doesn’t want to screw it up. No demon fighting or werewolf wrangling. No vampire politics. No muscled, chiseled, blonde brooding bad boys to take Clary’s attention away. Simon’s going to take his chance and run with it. Tonight is Simon’s moment.
“Clary’s still getting ready,” Isabelle says, calling him out. Simon shrugs sheepishly. “Come and mingle with me, everyone here is so boring.”
“I’m not great at parties,” Simon says.
“Exactly.” Isabelle grins. “You can distract them by talking about accounting, or explaining the entire plot of Star Trek. Again.”
“Just tell them exactly what a dead body feels like when you cut into it,” Simon says. “They’ll back off right away.”
“Spoilsport,” Isabelle says, but she’s laughing. “Clary’s in her room getting ready. Down that hall, then take a left, right, another left, and it’s the second door down.”
Simon gracefully takes the out. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“You owe me,” Isabella tells him with a wink, before disappearing back into the crowd.
Simon slips out of the room and down the darkened hallway, the buzz of the crowd already receding. If he used his new powers he could probably still hear individual conversations, but using his powers still feels freaky. Cool, but freaky. Raphael keeps telling him he’ll get used to it eventually.
He takes the first left, then another left, then right and down another even darker hallway, then right again, which seems way farther than Isabelle said he had to go, but there aren’t any doorways in this hallway-
Which means he’s probably lost.
“Great job, Simon,” he says out loud. “Way to not look suspicious in front of a ton of people who want to stake me.”
“Talking to yourself?” a voice asks from the darkness.
Simon jumps, his heart racing.
Jace is at the opposite end of the hall, adjusting his cufflinks. He looks good in his suit, Simon has to admit. It’s definitely the angel blood. There’s no other explanation for all the Shadowhunters being so hot.
“What can I say, I’m a good conversationalist.”
Jace snorts. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for Clary’s room,” Simon says, noticing Jace’s tiny flinch at the name. ‘But I’m pretty sure I’m lost.”
“These are the offices.” Jace says, walking towards him. “All the rooms are on the other side of the Institute.”
Jace always walks like he has a purpose, a clear-cut direction. A swagger, Simon thinks, watching the sway of his shoulders and chest as he stalks down the hall.
“Let’s get you back to the party,” Jace says, drawing near and clapping a hand to Simon’s shoulder, “before my parents think you’re trying to learn Shadowhunter secrets.”
“The many secrets of the hallway,” Simon says, looking around. “Are there hidden doorways? Levers to a secret room? Is this actually an episode of Scooby-Doo?”
“There’s a door right behind you.” Jace rolls his eyes without actually rolling his eyes, which is a pretty cool party trick.
Simon’s not going to fall for it this time, though; Jace already pulled this trick with the runes. He’s a such a liar, there’s no door behind him. Simon sighs and turns around, prepared to Vanna White extravagantly to the blank wall, except-
“Well it’s not fair if the door is the same wood panelling as the walls.”
“I’ll tell my mom you object to our decorating,” Jace says.
“Was that sarcasm?” Simon asks. “You can’t be the sarcastic friend, remember, I already fill that role.”
“Party,” Jace says with a sigh. “Now.”
He presses his hand firmly into Simon’s shoulder, guiding him to turn around back down the hall, except Simon’s feet don’t exactly get the same memo.
He trips backwards, half-turned, and bangs into the door behind him with a dull thud. Well that was graceful, Simon thinks, except then the door gives way and opens, and he falls backward again. This time he reaches out to grab something - anything, really, even though the only thing in front of him is Jace - to stop himself, and actually manages to grasp onto Jace’s lapel with one hand.
Simon always forgets about his new vampire strength.
Jace tumbles forward, his feet tripping over Simon’s own tripped feet, before they both end up sprawled across a cold, hard floor. The mystery door swings shut behind them.
“Whoops,” Simon says in the sudden darkness.
Jace is laying on top of him heavily, breathing like he got the wind knocked out of him.
“What did you do?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for Simon to answer and starts scuffling around on his hands and knees. Simon tries to help him up, and for a minute they’re nothing but a mass of flailing limbs and muttered curses.
Eventually Jace is up and standing, not even looking disheveled, and Simon scoots a few inches backwards until he hits a wall, then stays sitting. Jace is already investigating the door- or where the door should be; there aren’t even any cracks around the edges.
“Whoops,” Simon says again.
“We’re stuck,” Jace says grimly after a few minutes of waving his wand around. “My stele won’t work in here because it’s runed from the outside, which means we can only get out when someone lets us out.”
“Awesome,” Simon groans. “Was this part of a plan to quietly kill me?”
“You’re the one who got us stuck,” Jace points out. “And it wouldn’t be quiet.”
Simon ignores that. “Can you use your bond thing with Alec to, I dunno, call him to help?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Jace starts brushing his hands along other areas of the wall. Maybe there are actually trapdoors and secret entrances; Simon is still new to all of this. “I’m the best man, Alec will miss me soon enough. Or Izzy. They’ll come looking.”
“Not Clary?” Simon asks, before he can stop himself.
Jace’s face twists, for the briefest of seconds, before he shakes his head.
Simon had practically been gleeful earlier when Luke had told him about Jace and Clary, but now, with Jace looking like a kicked puppy, Simon’s starting to feel bad for the guy.
“It must be rough,” he says hesitantly, “ what with the whole Luke and Leia reveal-”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jace interrupts.
Simon watches Jace inch his way around the room, fingertips trailing along the smooth walls. He should probably be helping, but he’s not sure what he can even do.
“Oh hey, this is like a bottle episode,” Simon says instead. “You know, like on Star Trek, except I’m pretty sure the Enterprise is bigger than this closet. You’re Kirk, obviously, I mean you’ve got the whole-”
“Shut up,” Jace says, stepping around Simon.
“It’s a good thing I’m a vampire,” he says. Jace doesn’t tell him to shut up this time, so he keeps talking. “I used to be sorta claustrophobic - there was an elevator incident, please don’t ask Clary about it - but sleeping in a casket really changes your opinion about this kinda thing. Plus, you know, the whole seeing in the dark part is really helping right about now.”
Jace grunts; he’s on the last wall now. The room is square and tiny, with nothing but a concrete floor and walls. There’s also a drain in the middle of the floor, which is a little worrying.
“What, uh, what’s the room used for?”
“It’s where we put annoying Downworlders,” Jace says.
“Raphael’d probably spend a lot of time here.” Simon mutters. It’s not really fair to Raphael, he knows; Raphael is trying - in his not-really-wanting-to-try-at-all way of his - to mentor Simon. There’s just- there’s a lot for Simon to learn. There’s a lot Simon doesn’t really want to learn, and there’s a lot he has to get used to by sheer necessity.
Like caskets. And drinking blood.
“Looks like we’re stuck,” Jace eventually says. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair - it stays in place, which is just unfair - before sliding down the wall opposite Simon. He stretches his legs out, and his calf brushes Simon’s knee.
He looks, well- he looks tired and sad. There are deep circles under his eyes, and Simon realizes he hasn’t seen the guy smile once in the last fifteen minutes. That’s not exactly unusual, now that he thinks about it, but Jace looks a little lonely, too. Or maybe he smells lonely, which is a weird thing to think.
“Can vampires smell emotions?”
Jace looks up at that. “What?”
“Can we, you know.” Simon sniffs dramatically a few times.
“You’re the vampire, dude.”
“Yeah,” Simon says. “But I’m still learning all the vampire stuff, other than the eating blood part. I’ve got that down.”
“You’re not hungry, right? Because I’m not gonna offer my blood.”
“Nah, I ate before I came.” Simon’s still not used to the taste of blood; it’s thick and gloopy, sort of like coppery cough syrup. It repulses him, honestly. Raphael said he’d get used to that, too, but Simon’s not so sure.
Jace closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. Simon has the weirdest urge to get Jace to open his eyes and look at him again.
“I miss food. Real food. Bread.”
His plan works: Jace cracks open an eye to look at him. “Bread?”
“Bread,” Simon confirms. “Oh, dude, there’s this deli down the street from my hou- my mom’s house.” Simon fights down the pang of grief he feels at mentioning him mom. “I gotta take you there someday. They’ve got pastrami on challah and it’s literally the most delicious thing you’ll ever put in your mouth.”
“And what,” Jace asks, “you’ll just watch me eat?”
“Sure,” Simon says. “Live vicariously through… the living.”
He focuses on remembering the taste of it rather than remembering all the times he’d gone there with his mom and sister: that first sweet bite of bread, the tang of the mustard.
Jace could probably eat half the sandwich in one bite. Simon can see it now, Jace’s lips wrapping around the thick bread and meat. Maybe just watching Jace eat would be enough to sate Simon’s craving. Maybe he’ll be able to smell it lingering on Jace’s breath, or lick the remaining crumbs off Jace’s lips-
“Anyway,” Simon says loudly, crossing his arms. He doesn’t want to think about licking Jace. He doesn’t, he tells himself firmly. The room suddenly feels a lot smaller than it did five seconds ago.
“You’re weird, you know that,” Jace says. His eyes are open and focused on Simon though, so mission accomplished.
“You’re smiling,” Simon points out. The tiny smile tugging at the corner of Jace’s mouth tips up even further. “I can’t be all bad.”
“You’re okay,” Jace concedes. “For a Downworlder.”
“Okay for a Downworlder,” Simon says. “ I’m pretty sure in Jace Wayland talk that’s like a declaration of love.”
Jace points a finger. “Don’t push it.”
Simon reaches up to push his glasses back on his face, then blushes and drops his hand as he remembers he doesn’t wear them anymore. Jace is watching him with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not used to the whole vampire thing yet,” Simon says sheepishly. “You know, ironically, given this entire new life situation, Clary and I once started to write a comic about demons.”
“That’s the least surprising thing I’ve ever heard,” Jace says.
Simon falls quiet, and Jace doesn’t offer any small talk.
Simon keeps sneaking glances as Jace; his shoulders are sagged, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on them, and there are new, pinched lines around his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Simon wonders if there’s something going on with him, something more than just the Clary thing.
“You okay?” Simon asks eventually. “Not that I care, or anything.”
Jace swallows and looks at the ground. “What was it like,” he finally asks, “changing into someone else.”
As if that doesn’t sound like a suspiciously personal question. “I, uh, I don’t think I did? I mean, like, I changed.” Simon uses his fingers to mimic fangs. “But I don’t know, I think I’m the same guy. It’s not like Buffy where I got a shiny new demon soul.”
“You don’t think you’re evil now?” Jace asks quietly.
Simon very slowly and carefully moves his hand to rest on Jace’s ankle to give it a light squeeze. “Hey buddy.” he says, trying to sound friendly. “It sort of sounds like that question had a little bit more to do with you than me.”
Jace tenses, but he doesn’t pull away. Simon leaves his hand on his leg.
“I’m not sure who I am anymore,” Jace says, voice hoarse. “Not now that- I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“I don’t either,” Simon says honestly. Things got heavy pretty quickly; angst from zero to a hundred in ten seconds. “But, look man. You’re Jace Wayland! You’re the badass guy with a sword and great hair who always tries to protect people and do the right thing.”
“And stuff with Clary,” Jace continues, ignoring Simon. “It’s all messed up, and I- I don’t want to talk about it.”
Simon very graciously doesn’t point out that maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up, then. “You know what I’m great at?” he asks instead.
“Nothing comes to mind,” Jace says, but it’s lacking his usual bite.
“Distractions,” Simon says. “Alec wouldn’t want you showing up to his wedding looking all broody, huh?”
“It’d take away from his own brooding,” Jace says.
“That’s the spirit.” Simon rubs his thumb along Jace’s ankle, catching on the short, bristly hairs. “Have you ever wanted to learn Klingon?”
Jace mutters something that sounded suspiciously like kill me now.
“Or, hey! I can practice my encanto on you.”
“What could go wrong with that plan?” Jace deadpans. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t get me to do anything stupid, or I’ll kill you.”
“Too late, you and Clary already made me immortal,” Simon says cheerfully. “Hold on, I’ve gotta get closer.”
He pushes himself up and onto his knees, bracketing Jace’s legs between them. He scoots forward until he’s close enough that his ass could rest on Jace’s knees, if he wanted.
Which he doesn’t. Want. He doesn’t want that.
He leans in, Jace looking up at him expectantly and doubtfully, like he doesn’t think Simon can actually do anything.
“Encanto,” Simon says, staring intently into Jace’s eyes.
Jace blinks back at him lazily.
“Nothing?” Simon asks, disappointed. Raphael said it might take a few decades before his encanto works, but Simon was half hoping that he’s actually a wunderkind who would pick it up right away. “Let me try again.”
He puts his hands up and wiggles his fingers this time, concentrating on Jace’s eyes. They’re really nice eyes, Simon has to admit. They’re- “Whoa, your eyes are different colors.”
Jace actually grins, huffing a small laugh. Score one for Simon. “Is this part of it?”
“No,” Simon says. He scoots forward a little more. “Third time’s the charm. Encanto.”
Jace shakes his head. “Still nothing.”
Simon realizes, abruptly, how close they really are. Jace’s breath puffs warmly against Simon’s cold cheek when he talks, and if Simon sat down he’d be directly in Jace’s lap. Jace is still looking at him, eyes narrowed and chin tilted up. He doesn’t look sad anymore, only considering, like he’s trying to work something out in his head.
Simon licks his lips, almost unconsciously, and Jace’s eyes drop down to track the movement.
“I should move,” Simon says dumbly.
“I thought you were distracting me,” Jace says. His hand comes up to grasp Simon’s wrist, and it feels like a tether. Simon doesn’t move.
The room suddenly seems charged, or maybe it’s felt that way this entire time and Simon just hadn’t noticed.
“What are we doing?” Simon asks, dropping his voice.
“Sitting like idiots in a dark room,” Jace says. Simon brings his free hand up - to do what, he honestly doesn’t know - and ends up gently resting his fingertips against Jace’s cheek. Jace blinks. “You’re distracting me.”
“That’s the plan,” Simon says, which is a lie, because right now Simon is flying blind.
He’s always known Jace is hot; he’s got two eyes that work just fine, and Jace walks around like a menace, constantly lifting his shirt to show off his fancy runes and rock-hard abs. Simon gets why Clary swooned for him, honestly. Jace is pretty swoonworthy, now that Simon’s done hating him just for existing. Jace shifts underneath him, just enough for Simon to feel the thickness of his thighs between Simon’s legs. It also shifts Simon closer to him, and he brings a hand up to Jace’s shoulder to brace himself. Jace is so warm, radiating heat even underneath the layers of his suit.
Simon is always cold these days.
Jace kisses Simon suddenly, intensely, fisting a hand into the back of Simon’s jacket and pulling him in until they’re flush together, his stubble grating at Simon’s smooth chin. Simon almost forgets to kiss back.
Jace kisses like he walks. He kisses like he knows exactly where he’s going and what he’s doing, like he knows how to take Simon apart. His fingers are clenching into Simon’s wrist and suit jacket and his thighs feel tense, like he’s about to pounce. Simon nearly chokes when Jace’s tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, and he quickly opens his mouth as an invitation. He doesn’t know where to put his hands; it’s hard to think when Jace’s tongue is slipping in his mouth, his lips slick and open against Simon’s.
Jace pulls back, breathing heavily, and Simon unconsciously cranes his head to follow his lips.
“What are we doing?” Jace asks.
“You kissed me, buddy,” Simon points out. He wants Jace kissing him again. He ducks his head down and noses along Jace’s cheek, down the sharp slope of his jaw and onto his neck. He can smell Jace: the richness of his blood, flowing luscious and heady right under Simon’s lips, the salty-slick sweat starting to prickle on Jace’s neck and forehead, and above everything else, the thick smell of his arousal.
Simon’s fangs pop.
He knows he should try and put them away - if he even can right now - but one of them drags along Jace’s neck, snagging at his skin. Simon wants to devour him.
Jace moans.
“I’ll try to put them away,” Simon says. He still hasn’t moved his face from the crook of Jace’s neck. Everytime he breathes his teeth drag against Jace’s bare skin; he’s honestly not sure if he can even get his fangs back down right now.
“Uh,” Jace says. He shifts again, and this time Simon can feel his cock, throbbing and warm even through the thin material of his pants. “You don’t have to.”
“Oh,” Simon says back. He doesn’t mean to, honestly, but he can’t help push his ass down, just an inch, just enough to feel Jace pressing against him. He didn’t foresee the added benefit of his own dick dragging against Jace’s stomach, which is a bonus. A definite, huge bonus. He tries it again, experimentally, and this time Jace pushes up against him, his hard cock sliding against the stretched fabric between them.
The room feels overheated and heavy. Simon tucks his face even closer to Jace’s throat and inhales. The lush copper smell of Jace’s blood is almost overpowering, and Simon can’t help but open his mouth again to tongue at Jace’s neck, rubbing his fangs along the smooth, salty skin.
Jace moans again, louder.
They haven’t stopped grinding together. Every thrust is a building pressure between them. Simon wants to do this forever. He wants to do this naked. He sucks lightly at Jace’s neck, and Jace shudders underneath him.
“This is a thing, huh,” Simon murmurs. Jace swallows, hand clenching against Simon’s back where he’s still holding onto his jacket.
“Shut up,” Jace murmurs back, and then he’s sitting up to pull on Simon’s jacket, freeing his arms. Simon gets the hint quick enough. It takes a few moments of roaming hands and flailing elbows, but they both manage to get their shirts and ties off in the end.
Jace is covered in runes. Some are flat, like tattoos, while others look raised like a scar. He wonders what they’re all for, what exactly Jace can do. He tentatively reaches out a hand to trace at a large one of Jace’s ribs.
Apparently Jace is doing his own looking. “You’ve got muscles,” he says, like he’s surprised.
“Shut up and kiss me,” Simon says. Jace obliges.
Their kiss feels like all the air is being sucked out of the room. There’s only Jace, and his mouth, and his hands, with fingers that skate up Simon’s sides and grip onto his shoulders. Simon lets his fangs brush against Jace’s lips, feeling the slippery heat of his mouth, and Jace only grips him tighter.
Simon is so hard he might burst. If he comes while wearing Raphael’s pants he’s never hearing the end of it.
“Hang on,” he says, sitting up slightly. “Pants.”
“Yeah,” Jace says. He clumsily reaches forward to unbutton Simon’s pants, and Simon closes his eyes at the brush of Jace’s knuckles against his dick. He pushes the pants and his underwear halfway down his thighs, in too much of a rush to care much beyond that, then helps Jace do the same. Instead of sitting back down Jace stays kneeling, his cock flushed and red and right there for Simon to touch.
“Your fingers are cold,” Jace hisses, as Simon grazes them across the tip.
“Occupational hazard,” Simon tells him absently. He’s too busy trying to line his own dick up with Jace’s, and then he wraps his hand around both of them.
Jace shudders, then wraps his hand around Simon’s. It’s easy to get back into a groove; hips rolling, sweat dripping, bare skin against bare skin. Simon drops his head to rest against Jace’s shoulder; he’s not sure if he can hold out much longer.
“Kiss me,” Jace says suddenly, and Simon looks up.
Jace is flushed and pink, with swollen lips and his hair hanging haphazardly around his face. Simon can’t believe he’s the one who did that.
Jace doesn’t wait for him. He leans forward and crashes their lips together, tongues colliding. Jace tangles his fist into Simon’s hair - the gel is definitely going to be messed up now - and keeps Simon still while he grinds his cock against Simon’s, and then he’s coming all over their tangled fingers, eyes screwed shut and mouth open.
Simon’s own orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing through his entire body. He gasps his way through it, watching his come mix with Jace’s across their fingers, splashing onto the floor. It’s a good thing about that drain, he thinks abstractly.
It takes a few minutes to catch his breath. When he manages to look up again, Jace is watching him inscrutably. Their hands are still clasped together on their now-softening dicks.
“That was in the top five hottest things that’ve ever happened to me,” Simon blurts out, and Jace cracks a smile.
“It was something,” he says. He still sounds breathless.
“Oh, man, not even a top ten?” Simon really hopes he didn’t get come on Raphael’s suit. Although on second thought, It was totally worth it if he did. “I think that should’ve at least made your top ten.”
Jace rests his forehead against Simon’s for the briefest of seconds before leaning past him to grab his shirt. He uses it to clean Simon’s hand off first. It’s sweet, in a weird we just accidentally had sex way. Jace isn't the kind of guy Simon would normally think of as sweet. Intense, yeah, and broody. Maybe a little violent.
But sweet is also good. Simon likes sweet.
They get dressed in silence. Jace looks like a stripper, suit jacket on without a shirt underneath it.
“Nice look, Magic Mike,” Simon says.
“It’s your fault for distracting me,” Jace gripes. “I’ve gotta change again before the wedding.”
The wedding. Simon almost forgot about the wedding, and Clary.
“So, uh,” Simon starts. Jace looks at him. “What happens in the weird creepy closet stays in the weird creepy closet?”
Jace hesitates, then nods. Simon wonders what the hesitation means. He wonders what he wants it to mean. He and Jace can’t- they’re not- it was just a thing that happened. Still, he can’t help but crowd into Jace’s personal space, just a bit, to kiss him. It’s not frantic this time, simply a slow, gentle press of lips. Jace has nice lips. Simon is just appreciating them. He keeps appreciating them for at least a minute, and Jace is pliant and soft against him.
There’s a muffled click-clack from outside the door, like high heels striding down a wooden floor.
Jace breaks the kiss, licking his lips. “That sounds like Izzy.”
“It’s weird that you know the sound of her shoes,” Simon says. Jace takes a step back, then another, not breaking eye contact until he reaches the wall.
“Izzy,” Jace shouts as he turns, pounding on the locked door. The click-clacks stop abruptly.
“Jace?” Isabelle calls. “What are you doing in the supply closet?”
“Why aren’t there any supplies in the supply closet?” Simon asks. “That’s super suspicious, just so you know.”
“Just let us out,” Jace calls back.
“Us?” Simon can hear a lock clicking. “Who’s us?”
“I’m us,” Simon volunteers. The door opens fully to find Isabelle peering at them, hip cocked.
“Huh,” she says slowly, eyes traveling from Simon to Jace. Jace, who’s currently holding his balled up shirt against his bare chest.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Simon says weakly.
“We got locked in,” Jace says. The tips of his ears are red.
“I can see that.” Isabella grins broadly. “You spill something on your shirt?”
“I’m gonna go take care of it,” Jace says. He throws one last look towards Simon, then hurries away.
“It’s-” Simon starts to say, then stops. He doesn’t know what it is.
“It’s normal,” Isabelle says. Simon frowns, about to ask what she’s been doing in supply closets that this can be construed as normal, but she starts marching him in the direction of a bathroom before he can. “Go get cleaned up. I won’t say anything.”
“I’m going to get you a fruit basket,” Simon promises. “Or, no, chocolate.”
“I like dark chocolate,” she says firmly, before ushering him into the bathroom.
He cleans up quickly, then spends a good five minutes trying to flatten down his hair to look manageable. He also tries to make it look like he didn’t just have sex, while thinking about having sex. It’s not ideal. He wonders what Jace is doing, or thinking.
“This was just a thing,” he tells himself. “It’s not a crush thing. Just a sex thing.”
He almost fools himself.
This time when he slips through the crowded Institute he easily spots Clary’s bright red hair sitting near the altar. Jace is talking to Alec behind her, already wearing a new shirt. Simon tries to ignore him, probably unsuccessfully.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says, sidling up to Clary. “Did I miss anything? I left right at sunset. ”
“You’re right on time,” she reassures him.
She looks beautiful. She always does.
Maybe tonight isn’t his moment. What happened with Jace- well, it sort of throws a wrench into his plans. If he declares his love for Clary tonight it sort of feels like he’s betraying Jace. Which is ridiculous, Simon tells himself. Except when he glances at Jace again he’s looking dour and tired again. Simon wants to be back in the small closet, when Jace had met his gaze and smiled.
Tonight is an interlude, Simon decides, just a small break in his Clary plans.
Behind her, Jace catches his eye, face inscrutable again. Simon wants to know why Jace thinks of himself as a monster. He wants to know why Jace hasn’t been sleeping, what he was really going to say about Clary being his sister, how he feels about Alec getting married. Simon wants Jace to smile again.
Top ten, he mouths. Jace’s lips twitch upwards in the tiniest smile that Simon’s ever seen.
Simon’ll take it.