Random OneShots

Pace Like A Ghost

By: Whoareyou0000 on Ao3

Saphael

~~~~~

Ghosts aren't real, right?

Raphael shifts, the ancient mattress creaking under his weight, and blinks down at the glowing screen. Two fingers find the bridge of his nose and pinch before rubbing at his sleep-crusted eyes. The sun's a half hour away from setting. It's too early for the fledgling to be awake.

Then the phone dings again.

I watched a movie about this guy who was brutally murdered and then he got trapped in his house forever. He was so lonely and angry that he started killing everyone who bought the house and then those people got trapped too. Anyway, I heard footsteps in the attic and I'm pretty sure there's a ghost in my house and it wants to kill me.

Raphael digests the frantic ramble, substituting Simon's squeaky stuttering for his own inner voice. He notices the three little dots blinking at the bottom of the screen before he even finishes.

Raph? My mom is out of town and I'm kind of freaking out here.

Raphael sighs with his whole body. The fledgling always chooses the daytime, always when they have no way of meeting, to reach out. He glares at the tiny keyboard, shakes his head, and moves his fingers clumsily over the letters. He types out a word, backtracks, and then corrects a typo before hitting send.

Where are your mundane friends?

The dots appear again. Raphael watches them blink for a few seconds, his response already decided, while he slides off the bed and heads towards the bathroom. He sets the phone down on the sink, turns on the faucet, avoids the mirror, and splashes some hot water on his cold face. It brings a temporary blush to his cheeks in the form of a scalding burn, which he savors. It's a reminder that he used to be something more than a monster.

It's a minute before Raphael's skin heals itself. Then he dries his face and looks back down to see that the dots have disappeared and there is no reply.

Stomach twisting, he skips any further prodding and taps the 'call' icon before placing the phone to his ear. It rings three times before the recipient picks up.

"Sorry, I didn't realize it was so early. I shouldn't have bothered you."

Raphael leans back on the sink, smooths out his sleepshirt, and puts on the soothing tone reserved for his troublesome fledgling.

"It's fine, Baby. Why aren't you sleeping?"

There is a clatter and then a sigh before Simon responds.

"I don't like being alone at night...or day I mean. What if someone breaks in while I'm sleeping? They could steal my laptop, or burn the house down, or kill me and turn me into a vengeful ghost and I would be helpless to stop them. It's so stupid...sleep. You're...you're never more vulnerable." There is a pause and then a gasp. "Also, I'm ninety percent sure that my house is haunted."

Raphael pushes himself up from the sink and heads towards his closet to piece through his wardrobe with one hand.

"You're a vampire, Simon. Even if ghosts exist, which they don't, I highly doubt they or any mundane intruder could overpower you." He chooses a dark gray jacket and a pair of matching straight-legged pants with a basic black shirt underneath. "Why are you even watching those movies when you know they give you nightmares?"

Simon's bed creaks loudly and a whoosh hits the phone, echoing in Raphael's ear as he carries the outfit over to the bed. Simon's voice muffles as if smothered by a blanket.

"Because I like them. Besides, they're horror movies. They're supposed to scare me. If they don't, then they aren't worth watching."

To that Raphael gives a staggering sigh, choosing to ignore the self-reproach behind the humor, and straightens the sleeve of his jacket over the rumpled bedspread.

"Dios idiota, you're exhausting."

There is a comfortable pause, during which Raphael chooses today's belt and Simon yawns far too loudly for someone who has no physical need to breathe.

"Hey, at least I'm not barging into your room in the middle of the day anymore or distracting you when you should be working. You must be thrilled to have me out of your way."

The last part is said in a thick, strained way that causes Raphael's stomach to flip. He swallows something unpleasant and scans the desolate room slowly, noting how empty it feels without his awkward fledgling taking up a couch or half of the bed.

"As thrilled as you to be with your family and your redhead, I'd imagine."

There is more rustling, limbs flexing against sheets, and then then a resigned sigh.

"It's lonely here, there's no one to talk to. Clary is always busy or with Jace, my mom's been working a lot, and my band is practically nonexistent. It's like I died, like actually died, and everyone moved on without me. I may as well be a ghost."

"Death changes everything. The only ones who truly understand that are those of us who've died." There is a shifting of fabric and then Simon goes abruptly quiet, feeding that seed of concern in Raphael's gut. It's annoying, that feeling, so Raphael rolls his eyes and spews a retort. "Did you fall asleep on me again?"

"Raph." Simon barely whispers. "I heard another noise in the attic."

Raphael freezes, his protective instincts rising upon sensing his fledgling's fear, and then takes an unneeded breath to calm himself.

"It's probably a squirrel, Simon."

"That's what they always say in the movies right before the ghosts drag them into the basement and implode them into a puddle of plasma." Simon adjusts the phone. "Gah...it's moving again. That squirrel must be a bodybuilder."

"Baby, relax." Raphael places the phone on speaker and sets it on the bed. Then he pulls his sleepshirt off in one go and slips the dress shirt over his arms. "It's a squirrel or some other mammal that means you no harm. Nonetheless, don't move. I'll be there soon with your breakfast."

"Really?" Simon's eagerness in no way contributes to the upturn of Raphael's lips. "That would be awesome. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Raphael's body awakens both from the setting sun and the unbridled gratitude in Simon's voice. He gracefully slips out of his pajama pants and pulls on his softest slacks. Then he grabs the belt and threads it through swiftly, his decision solidified.

"You can thank me by not watching those ridiculous movies alone anymore."

There is silence. Simon swallows loudly, sniffles, and takes the bait.

"But then what excuse would I use to text you?"

The words are heavy with the subtext that has plagued them since the day Simon chose the wrong side. There'd been apologies and acceptance. Then the clan leader needed time and reason to trust again. That reason came in Simon's steadfast refusal to help the Shadowhunters on their missions anymore, instead choosing exile as his penance. For a pack animal, there could be no more painful existence.

Raphael hears true remorse in Simon's words and feels his pain in the silence in-between. He has no intention of allowing his fledgling to become a ghost.

Giving a long exhale, he shrugs his jacket over his shoulders, and puts the phone back to his ear with a gentle smile.

"No more excuses, Baby. You'd just ask me if you could come home to your clan."

Simon takes a breath. Raphael waits by the door of his room with his hand on the knob, hoping. Then, an answer fitting of the awkward boy.

"What would you say? If I did ask."

Raphael opens the door. The sun has just breached the horizon, making way for a new moon and maybe a new beginning.

"I'll be there in a few minutes. Let's find out."