Work Text:
Simon got out of the shower, toweling off his body and hair as he walked to the sink. Before he even glanced in the mirror he had already put on a pair of boxers and was about to pull on his (Grace’s) T-shirt when his eyes drifted to his reflection. He swallowed down a sharp disgusted lump in his throat.
He wouldn't admit to Grace that his body was a source of resentment for him, though he was pretty sure Grace already knew given how much Simon tried to cover himself up and hide. Showers were hard for him for that exact reason. He had to look at his body, touch it, clean it. As if it deserved to be clean. Every scar from whippings, every burn mark, every self-inflicted cut to his arms from nights spent curled up in a corner trying to make himself feel something that he could control. He hated every one of them. And the mutations hadn’t helped, only leaving deeper imprints on his skin of his torment on AT-5. The gills that flared on his sides when he breathed, the missing limb, the veiny and boil-like scars clawing their way up his arms and legs, the extra teeth that protruded from his cheek, the red eye the- fuck. Everything. He hated everything. He didn’t know what Grace saw in him when his blonde told him he was beautiful, Simon usually just settled with the thought that Grace was probably just trying to make him feel better, but on his own, secretly retched at the thought of Simon’s deformed self. He certainly did.
Simon turned away, pushing down tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes, breath coming out choked as he desperately tried to suppress crying. It’s so stupid. So fucking stupid. God he was so pathetic.
There was a tentative knock on the bathroom door, followed with an equally tentative “Simon?”
Simon froze, ice cold tremors raking down his body. Fuck. Ryland heard him. “Um- y-yeah?” He wiped at his face trying to tamp down his anxiety.
The door creaked open and Simon tensed. Grace’s head popped around the door, concerned eyes trailing up across Simon’s body to his face. This had to be the first time he’d seen him in this state of undress. It made Simon recoil and visibly shrink into himself, arm reaching across his chest as if it would be enough to shield his body from Grace’s eyes.
Grace immediately picked up on what was going on and his expression fell from tentative to shattered in an instant. “Sy’…” the nickname came out a little choked. He swung the door fully open and took a cautious step towards the other man who only shrunk further from the blue gaze. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, borrowing into the soft security of darkness. Grace lifted a hand, gently cupping Simon’s cheek to turn his face towards him. Simon blinked his eyes open belatedly, begrudgingly, trying to look anywhere but Grace’s eyes. They could see through him too easily. Grace tilted his head to the side to try and catch Simon’s gaze and eventually, the other man relented, staring into the abyss of beautiful sky blue. Grace's thumb stroked against his cheek and unwelcome tears started to fall down his face again.
“C’mere.” Grace pulled him into a hug, running his fingers up to card through his long black hair he liked hiding behind. Simon hitched a sob, curling into his Angel’s embrace. Grace laid soft kisses across Simon’s shoulder that he could reach and the burning heat that bloomed from each spot felt like a shot of sunshine being poured into his skin, spreading from each point of contact to travel through his body and warm him.
They stood like that for a while until Simon’s reluctant crying had subsided. Grace pulled back from the hug, but never once ending contact with him. Simon was already looking away from him again. “Hey, Sy. You know I love you right? No matter what you look like.”
There was far too long a pause before Simon finally answered. “…yeah.”
Grace frowned. “Do you?”
Silence.
Grace sighed and snaked his hand down Simon’s rough, scarred arm to lace his fingers through the man’s. “C’mon.” It was both an invitation and a demand, Simon would never disobey his Angel’s request. He followed close behind Grace, hands still linked together as Grace led him to their shared bedroom and coaxed Simon to lay down while he left to get something.
Grace came back with a blindfold. Simon’s brain immediately halted at the sight and he looked up to Grace’s loving eyes only to see them roll. “I- this is not for what you think it is.” He stepped closer and held up the bandana. “May I?” Simon hesitated but nodded. He trusted his Angel. Grace smiled and then placed the cloth over Simon’s eyes, plunging his vision into darkness.
There was some shuffling of feet as the mattress dipped under Grace’s weight. Ryland crawled up to straddle Simon’s legs, leaning the rest of his weight onto his elbows he positioned next to Simon’s head. Simon could feel his Angel’s warm breath ghost across his skin and then he was being kissed so tenderly he thought he might cry again. Whining, his arm came up to hug Grace closer. Grace hummed, happy with this shift, but still not satisfied. He needed Simon to know. To know he adored him, every inch of him. He would crawl into Simon’s skin and be absorbed into him if he could, let his heart become a part of Simon’s, let their hearts beat in sync to eternity’s end. Good lord he was being sappy right now. But he couldn’t help it, he loved Simon. So dearly. It was kinda sickening how attached he was.
Grace pulled away from the kiss, much to Simon’s chagrin, and began kissing along his jaw, raising a hand up to stroke across the extra teeth that carved their way up his cheek. The teeth responded of their own accord and gently nibbled at his fingers. Grace giggled lightly, it was a lovely sound.
He continued his lazy but steady work, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Trailing down Simon’s neck, eliciting shivers and small murmured sounds. Simon’s hand continued tracing up and down Grace’s back, tensing and relaxing.
When he reached Simon’s chest, he paid special attention to the jagged keloid scars that stretched under the other man’s pecs. Those were by far his favorite scars. He laid a kiss to each nipple too, making a small surprised gasp escape Simon’s mouth. He relished in the way he got responses to pour from Simon so easily; a hand reverently tracing up and down his spine in an almost worshipful way. And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Worship. He was worshipping the man that he adored. That saved him from being lonely and touch starved for the rest of his life. That gave him real human contact for the first time in years. This man deserved everything. He’d been through enough pain, Grace was determined to fill the rest of his life with nothing but beautiful soft love.
Simon began chanting prayers under his breath. Things about sins, forgiveness, saviors, The Father, cleansing, and an angel.
Grace could feel his own tears threatening to fall. Here he was savoring this man who thought him an angel. Him, Ryland Grace. The guy who got laughed out of academia for his arrogance. The guy who went on to be a middle school science teacher and live alone, eating day-old macaroni on his couch in his little apartment. The man who selfishly chose not to volunteer for a mission to literally save his planet.
But with the way Simon spoke it like a fact. With such devotion, reverence, passion. It made something crack in him. He trusts me. He believes in me. He loves me.
Tears started spilling from his eyes, leaving trails of hot droplets across Simon’s skin as he continued his worship. Simon’s hand paused on Grace’s back feeling the hitching breaths and warm wetness against his skin left in Grace’s wake. He slowly lifted his hand up to shift the blindfold so he could peak out from it. What he saw was both the most heartbreaking and beautiful thing he can remember to date.
Grace, his saving Grace, kissing his marred skin still, slowly inching down the bed to reach, hands gently dragging down his sides, touch so soft it felt like a breeze against flesh. And Grace’s face, tears tracking trails down his cheeks, dripping onto the skin he kissed. Small breathy sobs being all but punched out of him. Simon furrowed his brow in concern. Shit. What happened? Was it this godforsaken body? Did Grace finally realize he deserved far better?
Simon reached and cupped Grace’s face much in a similar fashion to how the other man had done to him earlier. He tilted his head up with two fingers under his chin. “Angel… what’s wrong?”
Grace stared at him for a moment, tears rolling down his cheeks still, breathing uneven. Simon braced himself for what he knew was coming: ‘You disgust me’ ‘I can’t love a monster’. Instead what he heard nearly made him hysterical.
Grace's face contorted in pain, lips quivering. “I-I d-don’t deserve you.” It was so quiet Simon would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been desperately listening for an answer.
His eyes widened and he wondered how on Earth, Erid or Eden, this man could ever believe something so absurd, so entirely untrue. Simon immediately pulled Grace up to his chest where Grace went easily, laying his head down onto the man’s sternum. He continued crying. Simon was too stunned to do the same. He stroked Ryland’s hair, like petting a disgruntled dog.
“I-I’m so sorry this was- this was supposed to be me helping you- I’m- I’m s-so selfish, god. What is wrong with me? I- you need this more than me but I can’t- stop thinking about myself. So stupid I’m so-“
Simon cut him off with a tug to his hair. He couldn’t reach Grace’s lips to shut the blonde’s ramblings up like he usually did so a sharp tug to his hair would have to suffice. Ryland let out a whine at the pull. Simon growled. “Never fucking say that shit, Ryland.”
“Bu-“ another sharp tug
“Don’t you dare. This isn’t an argument, Ryland. You are not selfish. You are not responsible for everything all the time. You don’t get to feel bad for wanting to help me and then needing to be comforted yourself. That's not how this works. My shit matters to you. And yours matters to me.” Simon let go of the clump of hair he was grasping and settled his hand back to pet his blonde’s hair again. “You are a blessing, Ry’. You’re a beautiful, loving, kind soul and I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect person to end up with.” He swallowed hard on a lump in his throat, the next words still came out shaky, “If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. A fucking monster that just happened to end up with a second chance.”
A protestant noise immediately rumbled from Grace’s chest and the man sat up to grab Simon’s face in his hands, getting so close their noses touched. “You are not a monster, Simon. You are human. You are my angel too, y’know. You showed up, hurt and scared but despite that you still let me get close to you. You trusted me. To touch you. To care for you. You gave me human connection for the first time in…” he bit his lip. “… so long. You’re nothing short of a miracle.”
Simon couldn’t help the full-body shudder that ran through him and the vice-like grip he had on Grace now. He pulled him down into a hug tight enough that Grace was quickly losing the ability to breathe but he was not complaining at all.
Simon's voice came muffled and teary when he spoke into Grace’s hair. “God we are so fucked up.”
Grace let out a dry laugh, hysterical and endeared and so tired. “Yeah. But we can be fucked up together.”
Simon pulled away with a dumbstruck look. “Dr. Ryland Grace! Language!” He mocked Grace’s stern teacher voice he used when Simon cursed. They devolved into giddy hysterical giggling. When the laughter died down, Simon sighed. “Yeah, we can be fucked up together.”
.
.
.
Grace was still laying his head on Simon’s chest, Simon’s hand petting through his golden hair. Every once in a while Grace would hum contentedly or Simon would scratch his nails along Grace’s scalp and make him shiver. The silence between them was comfortable. It was familiar. It was the kind of silence that could hang in the air for hours and feel safe. The kind where you knew neither of you needed to say anything. The kind that didn’t need extra words because your actions said everything.
Simon’s body-image issues couldn’t be fixed in one night. Grace’s self-worth couldn’t be fixed in one conversion. But every step taken was one step closer to acceptance and peace. Sometimes they stumbled, lost their footing, had to start a few steps back, but they could start over again knowing they’d made it before. They’d overcome obstacles they’d never thought possible, and they were still here. That had to count for something, right? Rome wasn’t built in a day, and pain wasn’t healed in a night.
But Rome had been built. And overcoming pain was possible. They couldn’t forget that.