Take This Blood Chapter 10: kiss and control, a mortal instruments fanfic

Inspiration| i'm an idiot and i'm surrounded by good writers and I suck. Blah.

Warning| some language, some adult situations, lust, manhunts, necklaces, Raphael's bitch face, Simon's word vomit, Mama Lewis pissed, Simon and Raphael contemplate why people say I love you, i'm on crack.

"Testing, testing I'm just suggesting
You and I might not be the best thing—
exit, exit, somehow I guessed it—right, right
But I still want ya, want ya."

—"Haven't Had Enough" by Marianas Trench

Clary and him don't apologize to each other, everything they said they meant to say and neither would take it back. Clary thought Raphael was dangerous and that Simon should stay away, but he couldn't. In the darkest, and lightest, parts of his mind Raphael had rooted himself there firmly and would never let Simon's heart go for he was his, his, his and he would not share.

And to put it fairly, he didn't agree with Clary's one-dimensional track of thought.

"Are you going with us?" Clary asks as she shoves clothes into her open suitcase. All around is a abstract sprawl of tee shirts, jeans, a rare dress, and a range of shoes.

Simon shakes his head. "No, I think I've had enough craziness for a while. I'll just sit this little escapade out and deal with the obvious."

"Your mom?" she asks with a wince because she knows how his mom gets and how badly all this could escalate if he said or did the wrong thing.

"Yeah . . . she thinks I'm going to be expelled, or on hard drugs, or something."

"That's the least of her problems," Clary's mouth twists. "Does Raphael—has she seen him yet?"

Simon gnaws at the inside of his cheek. "So far he's only met her a few times—not that she remembers—he compelled her not to call the cops, but not the fact that I was gone. He doesn't make everything easy for me."

"He's trying to bully you out of your own house?" Clary asks, her voice going up a bit in outrage.

"No, he's trying to make me compel her on my own." Simon exhales through his teeth. "He gave me the whole 'I'm not gonna hold your hand just because I'm your sire' speech. Trying to make me expect everything I am, and what I'm not anymore and blah, blah, blah—yeah, all that vampire crap. It's like I'm in some support group for vampiric self-acceptance."

Clary tilts her head to the side like she's trying to figure something out, but shakes it off. "Could I just ask—why do you even like him then?"

"'Cause I appreciate the little slap to the face wakeup call every now and then."

"What are you doing here?" Simon asks when he finds Raphael standing on his front porch that night in a halo of orange light. He's still wearing his leather jacket and his face his flushed from having just fed, but it could easily be mistaken for cold to anyone who didn't know.

"There are no humans inside," he says like it answers everything.

"Uh, yeah, my mom's at work. Why are you here again?" Simon pulls the door closer to his shoulder; blocking Raphael's chances of getting inside. "Not that I'm, well, actually I'm not all that happy to see you—why are you here?"

Raphael's expression is neutral when he pushes the door open and strides into the house, glancing around like he'd never seen the inside of an apartment before. "I want to speak with you."

"If this is about the vampires—well, I lived."

"Obviously," Raphael murmurs like he was a nuisance and Simon's eye twitches at the forlorn tone of his voice. "But not about that."

"Or the reason you were at that club . . .? No. Okay, what about Pierre. Who the hell is he and why'd you take his teeth?"

"Not that either." Raphael shakes his head.

"Then what could there possibly be to talk about?"

Raphael pulls his hand from his jacket pocket and opens his palm, there's a spiral of gold with the cross lying on top of it. The skin around it was blistered with red bleeding out between his fingers. It's Raphael's necklace. "You broke it, you should fix it." He drops it into Simon's hand and stares at his unscarred palm enviously. "Since you can touch it."

So, that's how Simon ended up spending his Tuesday night fixing Raphael's gold cross with a pair of pillars and a how-to video on YouTube. He's actually kind of good at it. And while he works, Raphael survives his apartment from the chair next to him, drumming his fingers across the hardwood table and scratching at the back of his neck lazily.

"So, why not scare the hell out of a jeweler and get this done professionally?"

Raphael inclines his head to stare at him, his expression blank as new fallen snow and his mouth a firm line. He wasn't going to answer.

"Are you just doing this to keep things interesting, or . . . ?" Simon prods, leaving his sentences to trail off and Raphael continues to ignore him. "Look are you always this neurotic when it comes to relationships, or is it just me?"

"Relationships?" Raphael's nose turns up.

Shit.

"Deals, arrangements, whatever. Sire bond talking—shut the hell up." Simon growls and shakes his head and pinches the tweezers; noting Raphael's flinch. "Calm down I'll fix your stupid necklace. I've done this before for my sister."

"It is not a 'stupid necklace'." Raphael says, his voice something akin to whine well still sounding like he would rip Simon's throat out at any given moment.

"Rosary, then."

"It's not a rosary either, it doesn't have beads."

"So it's a necklace then?"

They lapse into silence again until Simon hears the telltale slam of a cab door outside. In which case, he drops everything and strains his ears to hear. "Ah, my mom's home." Simon jumps up and grabs for Raphael's arm. "Get in my room."

Raphael gives him a look like seriously? and doesn't move.

"I'm not supposed to have people over, okay? Go!" Simon corrals the other boy towards his room.

"Simon, I'm a sixty-eight year old vampire and the current head of the New York coven," Raphael hisses and yanks his arm back from Simon. "And you want me to hide because of a human woman?"

Simon hears the key turning in the lock.

"Yes!" He all but shoves Raphael through the door, not sparing a glance as Raphael goes sprawling across his bed. "Stay there, shut up. If you come out here: I'll—"

"You'll what?"

Simon flushes before his eyes harden in determination. "Or I'll tell Lily that you sing Grease Lightening in your sleep."

And then he slams the door.

When he comes back in his room, his pockets are full of gold chains and tools. Raphael is stilling on his bed looking unimpressed as always when he's somewhere that's not his beloved Du Mort and glances at him. "She had to go to sleep early; she works in the morning and again at night. It's a weekly thing, she wouldn't have even noticed you if you were lying in bed with her." He jokes but hopes Raphael's not willing to test that theory.

Raphael stares at him for a long moment as if he's deciding something and his lips part, "Where do you get off telling people you love them?"

"What?" Simon blinks for several seconds.

"Well, the Shadowhunter girl, Clary, the Shadowhunter girl again, the shewolf, and then me."

He flushes, embarrassed. "I—I never told Isabelle and Maia I loved them."

"Details," Raphael waves his hands absently. "Anyway, is it some fetish of yours to just tell people you love them before you have sex with them, or at least try to? Why do all you humans do that?"

"Okay, weird question time." Simon singsongs and lowers himself into his computer desk chair adjacent from Raphael, fiddling with the gold chain in his hands. "Well, you were human to you should know that—okay? No? Been too long? Uh, well, I guess people tell each other I love you before they, yeah, because they want to remind them that it means, that they mean, more to them than just physical contact."

Raphael stares at him and his brows draw together. "Daylighter—"

Simon's mind winds before him, reminding him that he's seen this movie before and he lets out a bark of laughter because it's all too ohmygod cliché and awkward for him to even consider. "Is this where you say that I don't really love you and that it's all the sire bond talking and making me feel this way?"

"I . . ." Raphael's expression turns quizzical and then his eyes roll, hard in their sockets. He looks close to murder. "Simon, stop watching The Vampire Diaries."

"You have to admit they get something's right."

"I will burn your DVR."

"Back to what you were saying," Simon veers back to the subject because he knows Raphael would burn his DVR and the TV to prevent him from ever enjoying the most accurate vampire show out there. Although he did have qualms with the plot, the thought of Raphael ceremoniously burning his electronics in a fiery rage was unexpectedly more entertaining than he thought.

He shifts under Raphael's gaze and relaxes only when it lowers and he feels the courage for something daring work up in his throat. Raphael starts talking again, his voice low and dangerous and Simon knows he's probably going to slowly raise his head and glare at him in a way that will make him sob like a three year old denied candy. "If I hear one more vampire pop-culture reference from you again, I swear I'll—"

"But truthfully, I do care about you. Regardless."

The silence between them is heavy and almost plausible twisting in Simon's stomach, he blinks away the look of hopelessness in his eyes and watches Raphael slowly inhale and exhale.

His mind attacks and organizes a manhunt for his impulsive behavior with the highest bounty imaginable so that not even Lust or Sympathy would bother trying to hide the fend from the wrath of Common Sense who would murder him in cold blood.

Raphael makes a gesture and Simon flinches.

"Just . . ." Raphael his gaze zeros in on Simon's hands. "Fix it, please."

"Right. Of course," Simon spins his chair to the desk and flickers on the light over the bright gold. "Working on that . . ." He moves around the tools for a while, trying to sort out his thoughts and look like he's working so Raphael would say anything. His fingers brush the cross again and he gazes at the simple gold cross in his palm wondering why something so simple meant so much to a damned soul.

It wasn't cheap, that much was obvious, and it was old too, but well taken care of and Raphael always wore it no matter if it burned him or not. He'd never really taken the time to think it through, or for the fact that since he broke it Raphael still carried it around.

"It was a gift?" he asks without thinking and expects a stony silence behind him followed by a physical hit of some sort for bothering to ask the question, but Raphael is full of surprises tonight.

"Yes,"

"Well, I guess you're spending the night." Simon mutters, watching as his mother hurries out to the cab waiting for her at the corner. Once she's safely inside, he shuts the heavy black-out curtains against the meager sunlight streaming through the window.

"Seems that way." Raphael toes off his shoes onto the floor and glares furiously at the window like his glare alone could make the sun sink back and pull the moon up in its wake for him. "I lost track of time doesn't exactly work with the coven. They'll be looking for me after sunset."

"Do you want to call them?" Simon offers but Raphael waves his hand. "Do you remember their numbers?" He tries again, Raphael glares so he knows he's right.

"They won't be that worried."

"Okay, whatever." Simon shuffles for the door. "G'night."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go sleep in my mom's room. I spent all night fixing your necklace, I'm tired and I need a few hours."

"We've slept in the same bed before."

"Dude, no. My mom can walk in." Raphael's hand slides to the bend of his elbow, pulling him down to lay beside him on the bed.

"Listen for her then. You only need a few hours." Raphael repeats.

"I don't know where you think you're getting any. You must be very bad at reading signals."

"Who said anything about sex?" Raphael asks and curls into the blankets like he always does at Du Mort and presses his face against the pillow. "Go to sleep cariño."

Simon wakes to noise.

Daylight peeks through the windows and when he stretches out he realizes that Raphael is still there lying beside him. He folds himself up into the blankets and pinches his eyes, trying to remember something from early this morning. Something important.

They talked and then they slept together.

Not slept, but actual sleeping-next-to-each-other, no touchie-touchie, sort of Boy Scout platonic sleeping bag sharing. Wow, development.

Footfalls echo through the apartment and Simon bolts upright when he hears the feet stop just at his door.

"Simon?" his mother calls and he could almost swear his heart jump started just by the sound of her voice. "Simon!" The doorknob twists hard in her grasp and jiggles and bounces. "Unlock this!"

He scrambles out of bed to do so.

His mother's standing at the door, her dark brown eyes—the same as Simon's—were pinched into a fuming manifestation that would make a werewolf turn tail and run for its life. It's the same look she gave him when he started coming home late and staying out more and that time he ate the lasagna she was going to give to their neighbor who just lost a son in Iraq.

"I just got a call from the school," she says slowly but Simon can hear the dangerous venom dripping into her voice as her voice grows louder and angrier like a runaway feign train. "And they told me that you weren't in school today. So, I thought to myself, no there has to be a mistake because I know that you remember our agreement about you going to school. So, I call you and call you and call you and you don't answer and I start getting worried, so I take off from work to come home and find you here at twelve thirty-five when you should be in Calculus. "

He keeps his mouth shut and his mother crosses her arms over her teddy bear scrubs.

"Where were you today?" she asks, voice still low and dangerous.

"I—I was here," he says softly and a lump forms in the back of his throat. "I thought it was Saturday."

"Simon, I saw Clary leaving this morning. You two always walk together."

Doesn't mean she's going to school. He considers sardonically and makes a mental note to ask her later about that Jace again and their brother-sister shocker news. There was one more day before they went to Idris so it would have to be soon.

"What are you hiding in there?" Her eyes narrow.

"What?" His fingers reflexively tighten around the door.

"Open your door."

"Mom, it's nothing. My room's a mess; I haven't had a chance to clean. Seriously, you would not believe the pile up of dishes and—"

And for all his vampire strength was worth, his mom shoves open the door and sees Raphael is there still lying on his bed tangled in his sheets with his shirt unbuttoned and snoozing away the daylight hours in his dead sleep.

"Mom," Simon's mind raced for an excuse, suddenly realizing how bad this all looks. Especially when his mom already thought this had something to do with sex with the bite marks, Alec's pants and now finding a boy in his bed. "Ah, this isn't what it looks like—this is my friend—"

That statement only seemed to act like gasoline to the fire.

His mother shoves past him to the bed and yanks the covers off—Raphael doesn't stir—and she starts screaming.

"Get out! Get out of my house! Simon Lewis, you are in so much trouble!" Simon feels something in him shift while he watches his mother reach for Raphael to shake him awake. Where on one hand he knows the chances of Raphael actually waking up are slim to none and he'll flash his fangs at best, but there's a constant little nagging building in the back of his mind that pumps through his blood and makes the mantra of protectprotectportect the only thing he can hear over the screams spilling past her lips.

So, when he does jump and grab his mother's arm, he's at a loss of what to do other than to lock eyes with his mother and start talking.

"Mom. Mom," He says slowly reigning in her attention, he tries to speak slowly, annunciate every word and be as calm as possible. He can feel his mother's heart rate slowing already from his grip on her wrist. "I'm sick and I'll be out of school till Monday next week, you'll call the school and tell them that. Right? Okay. Raphael is only here because he heard that I was sick—there is nothing weird or unplatonic about that—in fact, forget he was ever even here. He's not important. Just go back to work, and don't come back to check on me, I'll be fine. I am fine. You don't need to worry about me."

He waits several second before letting his mother's wrists go and listens to her heart drum out a steady tempo. Then she steps past him to the door and continues her way through the apartment, grabbing her purse and keys before leaving. Simon waits until the front door shuts before he dares to breathe again and shuts his bedroom door behind her.

He goes back to the bed and sits down, waiting for darkness.

When Raphael wakes he tells him what happened and Raphael makes a comment on how nice it was for him to cover him back up with the blanket. "I'm serious," Simon mutters into his palms. "It made me sick. The fact that I could . . . control my own mother— and she just—she just did what I said, like a character in a video game."

Raphael makes a noise like he's annoyed and kicks his legs free from the sheets. "That's compulsion and its one of the many abilities you now possess as a vampire. You were bound to use it sooner or later." Simon doesn't answer. "Well, isn't it nice that she didn't drag my unconscious body out onto the sun and watch me combust into flames? I think that's genuinely an agreeable development."

"I don't want to ever have to do that to her again."

Raphael kneels to eyelevel with him, hands pressing into his knees with the telltale pinpricks of claws and his gold cross dangling from his neck, searing his skin almost as fast as it heals. "Then you have to learn that with the way your life is now, that you cannot drag the people who don't belong to our world into it. You are a vampire, once human, but a vampire now. You live to serve me and wander the night."

Simon's throat clenches at the thought of leaving home and never coming back again. "I don't want to think about it."

"You cannot continue to put this off."

"It's not a choice I'll make overnight."

"It doesn't matter. You will have to make it soon anyway."

Want to bet? A sweet seductive voice whispers against his ears and takes the reins of Simon's body.

He knows one way he can.

Simon presses his lips to Raphael's again, feeling the puzzle pieces in his mind come together as more seem to unravel. The beast inside him purrs in approval, with little hints of yes, just like that and where to put his hands. He breathes and curls his tongue to his sire's. Raphael sinks with him, pressing his hands to Simon's hip and the skin beneath his shirt.

"You can't charm your way—" Raphael starts, but Simon shoves him down onto the bed, silencing him with his lips. "Ca—" Simon catches Raphael's bottom lip between his teeth, kneading it between his fangs and lapping away at the blood that rose against his broken skin. His nails dig into the band of Raphael's pants, skimming his claws across his abdomen.

Finally, Raphael gives a little and reaches his fingers under Simon's shirt, spreading them across his abdomen and tugging up the material. As they continue it becomes increasingly clear that this isn't just for Raphael's benefit to shut him up, but Simon could use the distraction as well. Just some flesh on flesh, taste of blood, something to make him forget who he was—who he used to be—everything and to concentrate on something as simple yet electrifying as Raphael's mouth.

Raphael lets him dominate which is surprising and scary for both of them, but Raphael lays docile—for the most part—watching Simon and forcing himself not to move.

"Why do you flinch?" he asks.

"You're a terrible kisser." Raphael says half-heartedly and Simon drops it.

He kisses Raphael's neck softly, palms pressing into his sides, riding up his shirt and filling the spaces between his ribs with his fingers—mapping a new trail of his flesh. Simon presses kisses to his eyes and nose and cheeks and anywhere he can reach, the skin is familiar beneath his lips but he wants to taste it like the first time, all over again, no hurry.

"Cariño," Raphael hisses and bites back a groan to strangle in his throat when Simon's lips trail down his sire's chest, placing kisses like stepping stones. "Simon—!"

He leans up abruptly and Simon's fingers flex against his waist, thumbs pushing against the bookmark indents of his hips. He leans up, coming nose-to-nose with Raphael and smiles. "Relax,"

It surprises Simon when he does, even more so when he relaxes back into the mattress as Simon reconstructs the trail he'd been making, skipping off to Raphael's left hipbone, he presses his lips to the soft skin above it and, without numbing it to the coming pain, slowly ebbs his fangs through the muscled tissue and drawing out a low strangled noise from the vampire below him.

So this is control, Simon realizes and takes joy in the taste of pleasure riddling Raphael's blood.

"So, your choice is this over a once five-star hotel?"

"Well, yeah. Here: my home, my stuff, my mom, and no rats."

Raphael winces. "There are no—"

"Huge rats. Don't you deny it, you saw that thing."

"Cariño, that was a familiar playing a prank. Nothing compared to what lived there when we first moved in."

Nothings really resolved yet, Simon thought as he filled his water glass in the sink. The sun was starting to crawl its way up the horizon again and Raphael is long gone, needing to check in with the others he's nearly frantic to get back in time. Simon knows he's there when the harebrained, knot in the back of his mind begins to loosen and settles into thousand thread sheets.

Sweet dreams, he calls out but hears nothing back in return and makes his way back to his room, cuddling the water against his lips and happy for the sated hunger in his stomach. Though he had torn through half the blood bags in his closet for more, he had taped a vein from Raphael for something fresher.

When he walks into his room and about to turn on his TV something in the window catches his eye, a folded up slip of paper double tapped on the glass. For a moment, he hopes that it's some vampire summoning whatnot, but is disappointed with Jace's annoyingly neat scrawl.

Simon,

Meet me at the Institute at 8.

Don't tell Clary

—Jace

P.S., we all saw Raphael leaving through your bedroom window.

Why does Clary like him again?

Thank you all who review and/or read this story still.

So this took longer than I thought it would. Sorry bro. Things came up. People tried to run me over with golf carts. Since I'm the least scariest girl at my place of employment, I get to run the ice cream cart outside and everyone in the restaurant has to pay homage to me with drinks and tips, muwahah. And I went to a concert and met Alex Goot, Sam Tsui, and the band King the Kid. They're so cute.

Sorry. They did stuff. I was going to take it back but I felt like . . . er, my shipper heart. Damn. Yeah. But they talked. And Simon's mom was there, and it's late or early and I need to wake up with my alarms. So. Night.

Next Chap: Simon can't stay out of trouble and him and Raphael act like angry boyfriends.

Dreamland take me away, and review please or no new chapter.