The first punch knocked Simon off his feet and he could taste the metallic tang of his own blood.
The second hit came with a fist to the gut and momentarily made him dizzy which shouldn't be possible but apparently even death hates him. His knees hit the cool dirt below his feet and this cannot be happening.
A short stocky figure with messy blonde hair sticking up every which way and the smell of booze on his breath shook his aching fist. Kirk Duplesse was once the school golden boy in he and Clary's graduating class with his flawless field goals and a face that turned every girl's head. Life after graduation has obviously not treated him well as he's half the man he used to be. God how Simon had loathed him. He'd unwillingly became the classic nerd stereotype who put his smarts to use for disgusting jerks that called themselves people. High school was his own personal Dante's Inferno.
The crew neck t-shirt Kirk wore reeked of old vomit and cheap beer as it clung to him like a second skin and Simon nearly gagged. Being a vampire has it's drawbacks - he'd trade every comic book he owns to rid himself of the overly sensitive olfactory perk.
"Get up," Kirk growled as he landed a kick to Simon's ribs. "She can't save you here, pretty boy."
Simon made a mental note to personally deliver a dripping sarcastic thank you to his best friend for her fiery determination to fend off his bullies back then.
"Don't touch him," came a smooth stern voice from behind.
Oh thank God, the ever predictable calvary has arrived to save his ass for the hundredth time. Raphael cuts a stunning picture in tight black leather pants slung low on his hips, a matching jacket with the clan leaders initials on the cufflinks and a homicidal glint in his eye. Simon drinks in the sight from his slumped vantage point and bites his lip. Briefly, he wonders when the hell his morals flew out the window because God - seeing Raphael in action was incredibly arousing.
Kirk's chest rose and fell faster in renewed rage as he swiveled around to face his opponent. The mundane was loose and wild in his spite whereas Raphael's demeanor remained calm and collected if not lethal. "Aw Lewis, you didn't tell me this was a party. Looks like we just found ourselves another guest," the mundane snarled. He reared back an angry red fist and Simon nearly darted in front of Raphael until he remembered how easily the elder vampire had dodged punches and knocked Simon's legs from under him during training. Raphael Santiago does not need to be saved. The damsel in distress role solely belongs to Simon whether he wants it or not.
Ignoring the cheap shot, Raphael took Simon's chin in his hand and dropped a sweet kiss to split bloodied lips. The clan leaders fangs attempted to descend upon tasting and he allowed himself a quick swipe to the crease of Simon's mouth, an indulgence amidst chaos. Simon Lewis has poor timing - Raphael found this out the hard way when want clouded his judgement and allowed Kirk to slip through a loophole. The younger vampire arched into Raphael's touch and unintentionally blurred his focus.
Suddenly, Kirk's shadow loomed over the two of them and nearly won Simon a poorly aimed fist to the neck had Raphael not caught the hand in his own without turning to see it. The former jock lowered his voice to a threatening pitch and hauled the clan leader up by an arm. Simon grits his teeth hard enough to break, don't touch him.
"Hit me with your best shot faggot," Kirk snarled. Oh boy. Not only had he hurt Simon but he'd left a damp patch of blood on an arm sleeve of Raphael's jacket.
Raphael twisted the man's arm behind his back and narrowed his eyes. "Faggot? Does that make you feel like a big shot, hmm? Makes you feel like a real tough guy to judge how two people love? And you think it's okay to bleed on my jacket?"
Coming to his senses, the other man shook his head fervently, eyes like saucers. "I-I like gay people...my-my cousin is gay. Maybe-you know him?" Raphael glared, stone faced. Kirk continued to grovel, "Thatsa nice jacket, I can replace it jus give me until payday. What brand is it? American Eagle....Gap?"
Another check to the list of reasons why downworlders should be allowed to kill: inauthenticity. How dare a mundane try to sell them a paltry lie and further insult him by assuming his suits are poorly made in a sweatshop? Raphael seethed, brows raised as he reversed and hoisted the bully inches from the ground. Kirk's body made a loud thumping noise as Raphael slammed him against a tree.
Licking his lips and invading the other's personal space, he tilted his head to the side. Dark eyes glimmered in the moonlight and he smiled.
Kirk squirmed uncomfortably, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. The freak had actual fangs and not the cheap sort you could get for five bucks at the store. Not only that but he'd hissed like an angry cat. That in combination with how effortlessly he'd yanked him up had Kirk's mind spinning a thousand terrifying theories. "What the fuck? What the FUCK, man!"
The next sound Simon heard was a protective hiss and the harsh footfalls of a man running for his life.
"Baby," Raphael breathed, rushing over and tugging Simon to his feet. Eyes black as night skimmed over the fledgling's body, hands shoved a shirt up and out of the way to examine the nearly faded bruises and lacerations. Having concluded that his other half was not, in fact, mortally wounded, an angry wrinkle forms between Raphael's eyes. "What did I tell you about leaving your phone at home, Simon? What if I hadn't found you?"
Simon gazed back with wide eyed wonder. Dios, he could be an actual puppy in how naked affection turns him into a mushy pulp and who could resist that face? Every vampire has it's kryptonite and his happens to be a walking disaster who attracts trouble everywhere he goes. Raphael couldn't take his eyes off the boy for twenty minutes apparently or he'd find himself on the business end of thick meaty knuckles.
His own voice betrayed him as he shot Simon a warning glare glazed over with fear and concern. Take your phone, take Elliot, take the entire clan if you want, for Gods sake fight back, it said. Simon blinked, cringing when the movement caused his eye to burn. The fledgling's face was worse for the wear with a purpling bruise fading over his left eye, a bleeding lip and the stench of a mundanes blood sticking to his clothes. It made Raphael's nostrils flare and fists clench. Accelerated healing or not, Simon's body has no right resembling someone's punching bag. There will be nights where he'll venture from the hotel by himself and, for Raphael's own peace of mind, he needs to know that Simon will return unhurt.
Infuriatingly, Simon grinned and leaned in for a kiss. Naturally, Raphael couldn't stop himself from latching onto the thin fabric of the shirt and kissing Simon within an inch of his life or death as it were.
The fledgling was too much trouble but God was he ever worth it.