#nerdflake-without-a-url

But still, it isn’t just anyone that he’s trying to muster up the courage to ask out. It's Raphael; unfairly handsome, absurdly sarcastic Raphael, who is essentially the sole reason that Simon made it through his introductory history class, thanks to hours and hours of tutoring sessions that arose after Simon desperately posted in the first year Facebook group one night when he was a little drunk and bemoaning the horrible grade he’d gotten on his first paper.

The crush that came along with spending so much time with Raphael had been more than a little inconvenient at times, mainly on the days when Simon was too tired and distracted to have his heart in studying and really wanted nothing more than to just stare at Raphael for a few minutes, but he’d (mostly) managed to keep it from affecting their sessions, if only because he needed an A in the class to keep his scholarship.

But he submitted his final paper (after having Raphael look over it no less than three times) two hours ago, which means that his crush has gone from being a quiet, dormant thing that’s easy enough to ignore (except for when he’s drank a bit too much or when he’s having one of his weekly venting sessions with Clary) to being blazoned in screaming color inside his mind.

Hence the spiced hot chocolate and the standing outside Raphael’s dorm room and the multiple aborted attempts at knocking.

He tells himself that he’ll try one more time. If he can’t bring himself to go through with it, if the fifth time (or maybe it’s the seventh, but who’s counting?) doesn’t turn out to be the charm, then it obviously isn’t meant to be, and he’ll take the hot chocolate back to his own dorm room and call Clary and-

“What are you doing here, Simon?”

Simon jumps, spins around and finds himself almost toe to toe with Raphael, who is simply standing there with a raised eyebrow, snow melting in his dark hair and along his shoulders, which are covered by an unfairly well-tailored black leather jacket.

“Hey, Raphael,” he says, heart still pounding from the shock of Raphael sneaking up on him. “Nothing. Just, uh. Hanging out. You know how it is.”

“Outside my door?” If it was anywhere else, Simon would think about trying to play it cool, pretend that he didn’t even know he was standing outside of Raphael’s door, but that won’t fly in this case, because a) he’s stopped by Raphael’s room at least half a dozen times and b) there’s a damn miniature whiteboard attached to the door with Raphael’s name written on it in careful, precise handwriting.

For a moment, Simon wishes that he’d given up and left when his last attempt to knock on the door had sputtered out, but instead of attempting to duck out of the situation, he forges on ahead. He already looks supremely uncool; might as well make it even worse.

“Actually, I came here to thank you,” he blurts, thrusting the hot chocolate towards Raphael’s chest. “For helping me make it through the semester. And also, I maybe wanted to ask you out. On a date.” Sighing deeply, he immediately fixes his eyes on the lid of the hot chocolate, so that he doesn’t have to see whatever emotion is currently flickering across Raphael’s face.

Absently, he notices that his hand is trembling slightly.

“Only maybe?”

There's something in Raphael’s voice, something that almost sounds amused, and even though Simon knows it’s probably in his best interests to keep his gaze averted, he’s always been a curious person, so he finds himself looking up anyways. What he sees almost makes him stumble back a few steps.

Raphael is actually smiling at him. It’s little more than a quirk of his lips, but still, there’s a definite upturn to them that makes a spark of hope ignite in Simon’s chest.

“What?” he asks, just to be cautious, because it would be just his luck to get his hopes up only to realize he's completely misinterpreting the situation.

“You only maybe wanted to ask me out? It’s not like you to be undecided about something,” Raphael answers, reaching out and taking the hot chocolate. His fingers momentarily brush against Simon’s, and the spark in Simon’s chest flares brighter. “You’re a very opinionated person.”

“And you’re not?” Simon laughs in mild disbelief. Raphael shrugs slightly as he brings the hot chocolate to his mouth and takes a sip.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His tongue darts out to lick a droplet of hot chocolate off the corner of his mouth, and for a moment, Simon is so distracted that he kind of forgets what question he’s supposed to be actually answering. It’s only when Raphael clears his throat slightly that he remembers.

“It wasn’t just maybe,” he answers, cheeks feeling like they’re mildly on fire. “It was a definite. Once I knocked on your door. Which I was trying to do when you showed up out of thin air. Which you should really stop doing, by the way.”

“I’ll try to walk louder solely for your benefit,” Raphael replies, voice completely and utterly deadpan, although his smile hasn’t abated. “When do you get your final mark for the class?”

“I’m not sure,” Simon says, the change in topic momentarily knocking him off guard. “Sometime in the next two weeks, I think. Why?”

Raphael’s smile grows slightly larger as he steps closer, close enough for Simon to smell his cologne.

“If you don’t pass, I’ll have to tutor you again. And I have a strict policy of not dating anyone I’m tutoring.”

“If I fail, I’m making posters and putting your face all over campus, and they’re all going to say, ‘this man is a terrible tutor’,” Simon responds, hoping that Raphael’s smile will grow a little larger.

When it does, it takes everything he has to not pump his fist victoriously.

“If you do that, I definitely won’t go out with you.” After a moment, Raphael raises his free hand and brushes his thumb over the line of Simon’s cheekbone. It’s a fleeting touch, and there’s barely any pressure behind it, but it makes a pleasurable shiver course down Simon’s spine. “Come back when you find out if you passed or not. Thanks for the hot chocolate.” With that, he steps past Simon, unlocks his door, and disappears into his dorm room. Once the door has clicked shut behind him, Simon lets out a deep breath and sags against the nearest wall, still able to feel the phantom touch of Raphael’s thumb on his cheek.

He hopes with everything he has that he passed the damn class but, just on the off chance that he didn’t, he immediately starts compiling a mental list of people he knows that are smart enough to hack into the school’s database.

Just in case.

&.

Two and a half excruciatingly long weeks later, Simon receives the email containing all of his final grades, and he immediately skips to the bottom of the list of classes.

Introductory History: 91%

As soon as the words sink into his brain, he jumps off the bed, shoves his feet into the nearest pair of shoes, and runs out the door, phone in hand.

By the time he makes it across campus to Raphael’s dorm, his feet are soaked (who knew that it snowed so much overnight?), and his heart is pounding. As he walks down the hallway, the thought that he could have put some more effort into his appearance occurs to him, but it’s too late to turn around; before he can completely lose his nerve, he knocks on Raphael’s door.

It creaks open a few seconds later. Even though it’s the middle of the afternoon, Raphael looks like he just woke up; he’s barefoot, his short hair is tousled, and he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt.

Just like that, Simon’s already impressively large crush kicks up a notch.

“Did you pass?” he asks, yawning midway through the sentence. Simon nods, brings up the email on his phone, and passes it over. Raphael scrolls for a moment before pausing, lips curling into another smile.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, passing the phone back. Reaching out, his fingers grasp the front of Simon’s sweater and tug him closer. “Where are we going on our first date?”

“I have no idea,” Simon answers, chest bumping against Raphael’s. He carefully wraps his arms around Raphael’s waist, and when Raphael only pulls him in tighter, he relaxes and drops his forehead against Raphael’s. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Raphael says, nose brushing against Simon’s. “After I finish the nap that you interrupted. You’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

Simon can’t think of a single thing he wants more than that, even if the dorm room beds are absurdly small.

He’s sure they’ll find a way to make it work