(slight au bc I know vampires don't get sick- so I guess this is human Simon, but probably set during CoFA, when he's living with Jordan.)

Simon rolled over, flinging his arm across the cool pillow. He was feverishly hot, and nothing seemed to help - he had all the windows open, had stripped down to his boxers even. He suddenly bent double, a hacking cough shaking his body. 'This is bullshit,' he thought. He hadn't felt this ill in a long time… since he was younger, and his mom would make everything better with soup and cold flannels and hugs.

He lay there, his burning forehead pressed into his pillows, listening to the rain tapping away on the windows. He was just beginning to slip into a state of drowsiness when he heard a light knock at his door. Assuming it was Jordan coming to check on him, he moaned loudly. 'Go away, I'm contagious!'

He heard his door creaking open softly. Then felt a cool hand on the back of his neck, a gentle pressure. Her scent enveloped him. Even with his senses dulled, it was instantly recognisable. Vanilla and spices and rain-soaked hair. It was astonishing, how much better he felt just for her presence. Neither of them had spoken. He felt the mattress sink slightly next to him, a slight pressure against his back as she settled against him.

A while later, Simon woke to find himself nestled against Isabelle's thigh, his hand draped over her knee. She was perched half on the edge of his bed. Izzy was looking down at him, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing across her lovely features. He pushed himself up with his free hand, so that they were sitting side by side. 'Hey,' he croaked. He felt her, warm and steady beside him.

'Jordan called me', Izzy said gently. 'He told me you were sick. So I've brought you something to make you better!' Grinning, she jumped off the bed and rummaged in her handbag. 'Here! It's my special peanut-olive-fish-tomato soup!'

Simon grimaced to himself and then, seeing Izzy turn around, a flask in her hand, forced himself to smile excitedly. 'Great!' he said, feeling his stomach clench at the very idea. Izzy's soup was quite simply the worst thing he'd ever tasted. She hopped back up onto the bed and thrust the flask into his hands. Trembling, Simon lifted it to his mouth… and took a tiny sip. It tasted -good. Drinking deeply, he realised this wasn't Isabelle's usual recipe. In fact, it just tasted of rich tomato and it was actually really great soup. He noticed a sly smirk creeping onto Izzy's face.

'What?' Simon was confused. Isabelle burst out into a fit of giggles. She gasped between laughs, 'That's not my soup! I found a tin in the cupboard!' Simon, having drunk the entire flask, set it down on the side, feeling it warm his stomach. Izzy had calmed down enough to say, 'I can't believe you were going to drink that! My soup is terrible!' Simon smiled affectionately at her, and admitted, 'I wasn't going to tell you that, though, Iz. I wouldn't want to incur your wrath.'

She grinned and all of a sudden wrestled him down into his blankets, pinning him down on the bed. 'You're right,' she said softly. 'I'm pretty scary.' They were pretty close together now- close enough…

She leaned in slightly, and her lips were soft and inviting in the low light. Simon stopped her. 'Iz, I'm sick. I don't want you to-' She quickly stopped him by pressing her mouth to his. They broke apart, her still hovering over him, and she whispered, 'I'm a Shadowhunter. I'm tough. I can handle it.' She leaned down again and their lips met. Hers were velvety and warm and he wanted to disappear in them forever. After a few minutes, Isabelle broke away, kissing his cheek a final time, and lay down beside him, drawing his arm across her. They drifted into sleep like that, folded together in his bedsheets, and Simon thought to himself that if this happened every time he got sick, he should do it more often.