Shadowhunters Rare Pair Exchange

A gift exchange to promote the lesser known pairings in the fandom. Check pinned post.

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Hear ye hear ye! The Shadowhunter Rare Pair exchange is back again!

Hello everyone and welcome to the second season of this exchange, where we celebrate the lesser known pairings in our beloved fandom.

How it works:

You can make any sort of creations, fics, gifs, edits, drawings, videos etc for any pairings OTHER THAN MALEC.

Sign up using Google Form. Make sure you have received the response email, if not check your inbox and spam.

You MUST HAVE a tumblr.

No kind of ship shaming and kink shaming will be tolerated.

You will have SEVEN WEEKS to make gifts.

SIGN UP FORM

Schedule:

Sign up starts= Dec 2, 2021

Sign up ends= Dec 16

Assignments sent= Dec 18 & 19

Submission deadline= Feb 5

Gift posting= Feb 12 & 13

Giftmakers reveal= Feb 14

Gift requirements:

Fic= 750 words minimum

Gifset= 4 gifs minimum

Moodboard/edit= Using 4 images min.

Art= One art minimum

Fanvid= 60 sec minimum

If you have any questions, feel free to ask! Again, you are requested to check for the automatic response email and inform if it's not in your inbox/spam/bin.

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It's a wrap on Shadowhunters Rare Pair Exchange 2022! I hope everyone had fun creating and receiving their gifts, and have a fantastic year. Hope to see you all again next year 💙

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Rare Pair Reveal!

Hello you lovely humans! I hope you're having a great Valentine's Day, if not celebrating then just hope you're having a good Monday

Now it's time to reveal the absolutely amazing giftsmakers behind every gift! Don't forget to send some love to their askboxes 💙

@bytheangell from @another-random-stranger

@amchara from @rubickk7

@thatnerdemryn from @bytheangell

@sivan325 from @moonlight-breeze-44

@polarnacht1 from @mewsiex

@mewsiex from @jesssssah

@facialteeth from @sivan325

@moonlight-breeze-44 from @thatnerdemryn

@levi-txliesiin from @facialteeth

@rubickk7 from @amchara

@jesssssah from @polarnacht1

@another-random-stranger from @levi-txliesiin

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Aaaaand all the gifts have been posted! Please make sure to check for your gift, and don't forget to thank your giftsmaker for their amazing work! Giftsmakers, please make sure to check the ao3 comments, reblogs and tags of the posts for any lovely comment your giftee may have left for you!

Tomorrow is giftmakers reveal! Till then, enjoy all the fantastic gifts of the year! 💙

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Green Eyes Monster

For @facialteeth My plot bunny was stuck with the jealousy and taken, hope it's okay.

Summary: Alec kept telling Andrew, Lorenzo, and Magnus how Simon taught him how to drive as he offered himself to drive them over, instead of using the portals. Alec felt so good, wanting to show off how he drove. Magnus was jealous, the man that he loves watching another and taught by another man.

Read on Ao3

As Magnus entered the car with Lorenzo, he could see and hear Alec talking with Andrew as the other shadowhunter holds Alec’s hand and gave him support.

“You’ll see, it’s going to be alright.” Andrew told Alec, giving him a comfortable smile.

Alec kept telling Andrew, Lorenzo, and Magnus how Simon taught him how to drive as he offered himself to drive them over, instead of using the portals.

Alec felt so good, wanting to show off how he drove.

Magnus was jealous, the man that he loves watching another and taught by another man.

Magnus heard about the Lightwoods’ siblings, he heard that Izzy and Jace are hooking up for favors they probably needed, and the warlock figures that the man that he loves doing the same, he was the same as his siblings.

“When did Simon teach you? The last time I heard he is still a vampire,” Magnus snickered at him.

“He taught me at nights after I’ve done patrolling,” Alec replied, not knowing why the warlock talked to him like this.

Andrew sat on the passenger seat, turned his head as he glared over Magnus, knowing the feelings his friend is having for Magnus, and figures that it must be hurt.

Andrew then turned around, patting softly Alec’s shoulder, giving him support.

Magnus was furious, figured that maybe Alec fucked Simon and now doing it the same with Andrew.

“And Andrew?” Magnus asked, feeling Lorenzo’s hand over his arm.

“What about Andrew?” Alec asked, relieved that it was red light as he looked over the mirror to meet the warlock’s eyes.

“Are you fucking him too?” Magnus asked, and saw Alec continue driving as soon as the light switch, not seeing the tears that ran through the man’s face.

“Magnus, what in Lilith’s sake got into you today?” Lorenzo asked as he glared at his friend, not knowing why he hurts Alec.

“I think that it was a mistake joining the road trip,” Magnus told him, trying to catch Alec’s eyes but without success, and added, “If you could stop us by the bridge, it would be good.”

“Magnus, I’m not leaving,” Lorenzo told him, he was furious about his friend’s behavior, “I think that you should at least apologize.”

“I’m not going to apologize for what I think about him, I thought that he could at least wait for me, but here we are,” Magnus rambled and added, “It was a mistake joining here only to learn that he fucks Simon for driving lessons and Andrew too for whatever the reasons.”

“Magnus Bane, I believe that you crossed the line,” Lorenzo told him with a glare.

Alec still crying in the car, wiping the tears away, not noticing that he bumped over the railing as the car was falling over the lake.

Magnus released himself from the seatbelt and did the same with Lorenzo, and then Magnus opened a portal while they still were in the car.

“Hey, what about us?” Andrew asked as he tried to release himself from the seatbelt.

“Do you think that we should go with you?” Andrew asked again, trying to stop the warlock from leaving them behind.

“I don’t think that it’s worth it,” Magnus sneered.

“So, are you going to let us die?” Alec asked, his voice cracking as he cried, watching the car sink deeper into the lake.

“I think that Andrew is worth saving, unlike you,” Magnus told with a glare as he took Lorenzo with him over the open portal.

Alec sighed, knowing that he should save at least Andrew, not wishing that Andrew’s life will be on his hands.

Once the warlocks left and Andrew stayed with Alec, Andrew noticed the sharp movement of his friend as he tried to release him.

Andrew was free from the seatbelt, knowing that once he cracked and break the window, Alec might drown.

“I’ll be right behind you, go, Andrew,” Alec told him, watching his friend’s face, he hoped that Andrew will believe his words and leave him.

“You better be,” Andrew told, holding his hand as he looked at the blue eyes man that always was with him in his darkest times.

Alec nodded, watching Andrew breaking the window and swimming over and leaving him in the car.

While on the surface, Andrew’s face was seen as he swam toward them, under the bridge.

“Where’s Alec?” Lorenzo asked with worried.

“He… he told me that he will be right behind me…” Andrew replied, trying to find his stele to use the heat rune.

“I think that I lost my stele…” Andrew called as he coughs.

Lorenzo used his magic to warm the shadowhunter as they both stared at the lake, hoping that Alec will appear.

“Why doesn’t he swim?” Lorenzo asked, not knowing what’s the fate of the other shadowhunter.

“Probably believing that he is not worth saving,” Andrew replied, glaring at Magnus as he added, “I think that I should go after him.”

“No, you should rest, I will do it,” Lorenzo holds the shadowhunter from moving, Andrew was still shaking, and then he told Magnus, “Tell Cat to meet us here, I think that we are going to use her nursing and healing spells, Alec has been too long underwater.”

Lorenzo dived in the water, trying to locate the missing shadowhunter and the car, he just hoped that Alec at least released himself from the seatbelt, but when he reached the car, the warlock saw Alec still strapped and didn’t even try to get loose.

Lorenzo used his magic to release the unresponsive shadowhunter and get him out of the car as he swam hard and fast over the surface, carrying Alec in his arms.

Andrew hurried over the warlock side as he laid Alec on the concrete floor and sat beside him.

“How is he?” Andrew asked, noticing the pallid skin, Alec looked lifeless, his blue eyes looked like glass, frozen in time.

“Not good, and have no idea for how long he was without oxygen,” Lorenzo replied, looking around hoping to see Catarina, “Where’s Cat?”

“I’m here, apparently got here just in time,” Cat replied, glad that they were hiding under the bridge, didn’t want to get extra attention from the mundanes, she looked at the trio, “What’s happened to you?”

“Long story short, Alec been underwater for so long, and he is not responding,” Lorenzo replied, glaring at Magnus.

Cat moved her hands while using the magic she scanned him.

Cat frowned, knowing that wasn’t good.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew and Lorenzo asked, they were worried about their friend.

“I may have a need to submit him in the hospital,” Cat replied with concern, and added, “Alec is in a coma, and have nothing I could do, in the hospital, he could get the treatment.”

“We will come with you,” Andrew told her, reaching to hold Alec’s lifeless hand, he felt the cold, Andrew wished that Alec will be alright.

“I don’t want him to get in the hospital,” Andrew told to Cat as he glared and pointed at Magnus, and added, “If he knew how much his words hurt, this wouldn’t have happened, I guess that you lose him, this time.”

Once Catarina placed Alec in a private room and he was in a comatose state, the warlock knew that she had to find what happened between Magnus and Alec.

It seemed that through the weeks as they were hoping to see Alec awake, forms of love seemed to happen between Lorenzo and Andrew as they mumbled words of love to him, hoping to see his blue eyes again, telling him that they never left his side.

Magnus wasn’t seen in the hospital, at all.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Your Hand In Mine

For @levi-txliesiin

Hi, giftee! I hope you like this. I tried to focus on ‘coming out’ and ‘hurt/comfort’ but some other things got thrown in the mix. I hope you don’t mind them!

Summary: Simon and Alec both knew that Maryse Lightwood wouldn’t approve of their relationship but they didn’t expect Simon’s mother to disapprove too - and they certainly didn’t expect Maryse to be the one to come around.

Read on Ao3

Alec and Simon both assumed that the biggest hurdle in their relationship would be Alec coming out. Considering the background Alec came from, they both assumed that every part of his coming out would be arduous and difficult. Alec had worried from day one that he’d be taken off shifts after everyone knew. He had nightmares about his peers refusing to work with him and about the Clave deruning him before kicking him out entirely.

In the end, Alec came out about a month and a half into their relationship. He told Izzy and Jace first, who were both overwhelmingly (and sometimes aggravatingly) accepting. They’d both insisted on meeting Simon, who they’d then bombarded the moment they met. Izzy insisted she and Simon go out for drinks sometimes, while Jace bizarrely tried to convince Simon to spar with him. Then, Alec told his parents. That had been the real hurdle. Once his parents knew, there would be no way to contain the damage. Whatever would happen — deruning or the like — would happen, and there would be no way to stop it.

As expected, Alec’s mother had gone off the rails. She found everything about the news hard to accept. She’d known that Alec had liked men since he was a child and he’d told her so but in her own words she’d thought he’d ‘grown out of it’. Then, there was the fact that Simon was a downworlder. Alec wasn’t exactly sure which fact she was more upset by. She seemed to flip-flop on which seemed more egregious to her.

Alec’s father on the other hand had been far more accepting, which took Alec entirely by surprise. Robert asked Alec only once, after Maryse stormed out of the room, if he was sure he liked men like he thought. Alec insisted he was and after that, Robert only nodded. He told Alec that Maryse would get over it eventually (which Alec doubted) and then, he asked if he could meet Simon.

Alec initially protested but when Robert asked if Simon was around, Alec begrudgingly admitted that Simon was in his room waiting for him. He expected his father to look surprised or angry. After all, downworlders weren’t supposed to be in the building unless they were there on official business but Robert only nodded again and gestured for Alec to lead the way.

According to Alec, he hadn’t exactly wanted to but he hadn’t known what else to say, so he’d walked to his room and then he’d knocked on the door and given Simon only a brief warning before he opened the door and walked in with his dad in tow.

Simon was standing anxiously by the window, where he insisted he’d be there for Alec until he was done. Alec said that he felt like Simon had been more anxious than him, which might have been true. Simon was beyond worried for Alec. Alec himself seemed resigned to accept the horrendous fallout he was sure was coming.

Regardless, Alec didn’t think either of them expected him to suddenly appear with his father behind him.

After that, Robert had given Simon the most awkward handshake that Alec had apparently ever seen and then Robert had insisted he should probably go try to defuse Maryse before she caused more trouble.

When the door closed behind him, leaving Alec and Simon alone in his room, they’d both thought that the worst of it was over. Oh, how wrong they were.

Simon hadn’t told his mother about Alec mostly because he hadn’t been telling his mother much about his life now. It was hard to tell her anything, when the truth amounted to ‘I’m a vampire and I have a hot boyfriend who fights demons,’ but Simon still tried to keep in contact. Every week, he’d go over for a family dinner where he’d force down food that he’d have to purge after. Mostly, his mother seemed happy with this.

Simon insisted that he was happy. He told her that he had a new job at a bar (which was technically true; the fact that it was a downworlder bar is what he left out) and that’s mostly where they left things. Every time she pried, Simon would obfuscate. He was good and that’s all she needed to know and about all Simon needed to tell her.

That was until Alec. Alec was the only solid thing in Simon’s life since he was turned and after Alec came out to his parents, Simon felt himself longing for that. He’d never felt the need to tell his mom about the people he was dating before, mostly because none of them were serious. But Alec was.

Alec was the most serious relationship Simon had ever been in. He knew it was naive to think they’d never break up but if Simon was being honest, he couldn’t imagine a future where they weren’t together — not for a very long time at least and not without some outside force Simon didn’t even want to think about separating them.

If Simon really slowed down to think about it, he might have realized that introducing Alec to his mother was a bad idea. His mother had no clue he was pansexual, and though Simon didn’t think that would be an issue, he supposed he could see how that could be a lot to spring on someone without warning, especially considering everything else Simon was literally bringing to the table.

Simon didn’t consider how his mother might have taken the sudden shift in his life over the past few months. He didn’t consider the worries she might have. Truthfully, he thought it was all contained but perhaps, his mother hadn’t quite believed he was as okay as he insisted he was.

Either way, Simon didn’t consider that it might be a bad idea to bring Alec home. When he asked Alec himself to come, Alec didn’t have any reason to think it was a bad idea either. At the very least, he assumed that Simon’s mother would react better than his mother had. Maryse Lightwood had really set the bar low.

Still, Simon had to admit that showing up on his mother’s doorstep with a big muscular tattooed boyfriend in a leather jacket wasn’t exactly a reassuring look.. All he could think about was how relieved he was to finally have this part of his life that he could share completely with his mother. He had to lie about everything, but this was real. Alec and him were real, and he didn’t need to lie to show his mother that.

Simon’s optimism didn’t start to falter until the moment he was standing on his mother’s doorstep with Alec behind him. Alec smiled politely. For all his antisocial behavior, he really could be a charmer when he tried but Simon’s mother didn’t look particularly taken with Alec’s brand of charm.

Her smile faded just a little before she finally seemed to remind herself to act polite and plaster it back on. She let Simon introduce them both and then she let them inside exactly like she was supposed to but when she didn’t realize Simon was still looking, he saw the furrow in her brow as she watched Alec.

Simon didn’t get it initially, not until later, after an awkward dinner when she asked if Simon could walk into the kitchen and talk to her for a moment. Normally, the kitchen would offer privacy but with Alec’s hearing rune, Simon was more than sure that Alec could hear the entire conversation that was about to take place.

Alone in the kitchen, Simon’s mother stopped trying to hide the concern on her face. “Simon,” she hissed, “What’s gotten into you?”

Simon frowned, stepping backwards in shock. “What do you mean?” He asked. He quieted his voice, despite the fact that he could hear Alec still in the dinning room where it sounded like he’d been toying with one of his mother’s vases on the shelf above the table.

“What do I mean?” She echoed, as if the entire thing was so obvious. “You move out, you stop telling me what you’re doing, you come into my house looking as pale as a ghost, you barely touch your food and now, you show up with some criminal and just expect me not to notice.”

If Simon had blood still, he was sure he’d have gone pale. “A criminal?” Simon asked in shock.

“Simon!” Elaine snapped, “A big muscular man with scars like that, bruises on his knuckles, walking in here wearing a leather jacket! I never took you as the type to fall for that! You’ve never even been into men before!”

Simon frowned deeper. “Well, I have been—”

She cut him off, carrying on in a softer, kinder voice. “Simon, I think you should move back home. I don’t know what’s come over you but it’s nothing we can’t sort out. We can get you help. You can break things off with this — this man. I can call your sister and we can help you.” She reached out for his arm but Simon moved away, pulling his arm from her grasp but it was too late anyway. “Simon, you’re cold as a brick. Whatever you’re on, we can fix it. I know this isn’t who you are! Whatever you got involved in, we can fix it.”

For a long moment, Simon fell entirely silent. He couldn’t even think of what to say. There was nothing he could say and the worst thing was that he got it. How could he expect his mother to accept the way his life had changed and think everything was okay? And Alec, Simon loved Alec but now, he thought back on every other person he’d ever introduced to his mom before. He thought of all the nerdy friends he and Clary had. Of course, his mom would think Alec was some criminal. How could she have thought anything else? What else could be the explanation for someone like Alec hanging out with someone like Simon? The old Simon didn’t talk to people who looked like Alec and they both knew that.

“He’s not a criminal,” Simon tried softly, though he already felt like this conversation was coming to an end. “He works in security. He’s not—” But Simon’s mother was shaking her head and Simon fell silent, letting the sentence stop right there. He could tell she wasn’t listening; not really.

His mother carried on. She told him she was going to call Rebecca. She told him that whatever was going on, they’d fix it together, but she didn’t understand. They were never going to fix the fact that he died. They were never going to fix the fact that Simon’s heart had stopped in his chest and whatever nerdy kid his mom remembered had died when Simon had risen from the dirt.

Simon understood why his mother was so upset. He wasn’t who he used to be, and he couldn’t keep expecting her to act like everything was the same when nothing was.

She turned to go grab her phone and after a moment of hesitation, Simon turned as well. He was at Alec’s side in an instant. Alec was frowning, his hand half hovering in the air like he had frozen exactly where he’d been. Alec opened his mouth and tried to speak but Simon shook his head.

They left without another word. It was only outside that Alec finally tried to speak again, “I’m sorry.” Alec fell silent for another moment before he carried on softly, “Your mother thought I was…” Alec trailed off awkwardly.

“A criminal,” Simon finished. He swayed into Alec’s side, grabbing his hand before he squeezed it and let out a soft, humorless chuckle. It wasn’t funny, but it was a little. Simon had no clue how he’d ever expected that to go any better. Every moment he’d spent with his mom had just made her more worried. Even if Alec hadn’t come for dinner, Simon was sure it all would have ended like this anyway.

“It’s okay,” Simon said after a moment, though he wasn’t sure if it actually was.

Alec squeezed his hand back, seeming to think before he spoke again. He was always like that. He never jumped into things. Simon could always tell when he wasn’t sure how to approach something because he’d take a moment to consider it and make sure he was saying the right thing before he opened his mouth.

It was sweet. Simon didn’t imagine a real criminal would be so considerate.

“Are you sure? Obviously, that wasn’t just about me. That had to have been upsetting for you, not being able to tell her the truth.”

Simon frowned and when he didn’t answer, Alec gently pulled them to a stop.

“You can tell me if you’re upset,” Alec murmured.

Simon turned. Alec was so close to him that he almost considered leaning in for a kiss but he knew that if he did that, he’d never give Alec an answer. That might not be the worst thing in the world but right now, Simon kinda felt like he wanted to give an answer.

“I’m not… upset,” he ventured carefully. It was hard to place words to exactly what he was feeling. “I feel disillusioned, I guess.” He smiled but he knew that it was as crooked and bittersweet as his heart felt. “It was a stupid idea introducing you to my mom anyway. It was a stupid idea trying to stay in my mom’s life in general. Of course, she thinks somethings wrong with me and you—” Simon laughed as he squeezed his boyfriend’s hard, muscular arm. “You look like you go to the gym everyday. She knows I’ve never even stepped inside a gym.”

Alec frowned deeper as he listened.

Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “You don’t look like a criminal,” he promised. “But you don’t look like anyone I’d ever have the confidence to talk to or anyone that would ever talk to me in return.”

At that, Alec’s face scrunched up. Instantly, he looked offended on Simon’s behalf. “That makes no sense. I talk to you. You’re cute and—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Simon cut him off. “You’re a good boyfriend and I’m adorable, but if I wasn’t a vampire, if I was the Simon I used to be, you’d never have talked to me.”

Alec fell silent. Simon knew he couldn’t argue with that. There were some caveats but they both remembered exactly how poorly they’d gotten along when they first met and Simon was alive. “I can’t expect my mom to accept that everything about me has changed if I can’t tell her why. It wasn’t about you but you were probably the last thing she needed to see to feel like she couldn’t stay silent anymore.” Simon reached for his hand again. They both started walking slowly down the street, towards the Institute Simon had been sneaking into more nights than not.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Alec asked carefully.

Simon shrugged. “I guess I have to stop talking to her.” He’d known since they’d left that was the outcome but it wasn’t until saying it that he realized exactly what that meant. “It’s probably not safe for me to keep popping into her life anyway. Things have been so crazy for us.”

Alec squeezed his hand again. Simon could tell that he wanted to comfort him but there wasn’t really much Alec could say. They both knew that Simon had to let his mom go now or at least, he had to take a big step away.

They walked together in comfortable silence for a few moments longer before Alec finally said, “You know, there’s nothing wrong with liking guys.”

Instantly, a smile was splitting across Simon’s face. He remembered saying something very similar to a muscular insecure man he’d met not that long ago. “That’s what you got out of this conversation?”

Simon could tell Alec blushed without even looking over. “Just — dating criminals and being on drugs, none of that has anything to do with the criminal you brought home just happening to be a man. A big, muscular man with a leather jacket on—” Alec looked down to himself and frowned again. “I probably should have worn a different jacket,” he decided suddenly, sounding guilty.

Despite himself, Simon couldn’t help but laugh. “Your leather jacket is very sexy on you. I’ve always told you so.”

Alec, still frowning, looked up, “Yeah but your mom-”

Simon reached out and gently touched the side of Alec’s frowning face. “My mom doesn’t understand who I am anymore, but that’s not your fault and it’s certainly not your fault for showing up to dinner looking like a very sexy demon slayer.”

Alec leaned into Simon’s hand for a brief second before he nodded. “Well,” Alec’s eyes flickered away like he did when he was a little embarrassed to be speaking, which usually meant that Simon was about to be charmed by whatever was about to come out of Alec’s mouth. “It’s not your fault my mother didn’t like you either.”

Smiling, Simon let his hand drop again. “So, it’s not my fault I’m not some blond haired shadowhunter girl?”

Alec didn’t laugh. When he responded, he was dead serious. “No, it’s not and it’s not your fault I failed to come out to my parents for years and finally did it when you’d have to deal with the cross fire.”

Simon swayed into Alec’s side again, gently bumping his shoulder. “Well, it’s not your fault I didn’t tell my mom that I’m dead and that you’re a shadowhunter.”

This time, Alec laughed softly. “This has to stop. I get it, we’re both guiltless.”

“Exactly. So, let’s go home before my mom chases us down the street.”

Alec’s face scrunched up. “The Institute is our home now?”

“Well, it’s home for now. Until your superiors finally get sick of me sneaking in and kick me out.”

Alec pondered that for a moment. “Maybe we should find an apartment.”

Laughing, Simon agreed. “Maybe.”

Simon hadn’t interacted with Alec’s mother since that faithful day Alec had informed them he was gay and dating a downworlder. Truthfully, Simon had never expected to deal with Alec’s mother again. He thought they’d live their lives awkwardly avoiding eye contact every single time they happened to pass each other in the hall.

Which is why Simon was surprised when there was a knock on Alec’s bedroom door one evening. Simon had been in Alec’s bed, where he’d been since the sun went down a few hours before, waiting patiently for his boyfriend to get back from the mission he was currently on.

Instantly, Simon was thinking the worst. He thought that someone had seen him climb in Alec’s window. He thought the Clave had received reports about a vampire sneaking into the New York Institute and finally came to arrest him when they knew Alec would be gone. He was sure that no matter what happened next, it was about to end with him being hauled off in handcuffs.

Simon wasn’t sure why he opened the door anyway. A better idea probably would have been to wait until Alec got home and let him deal with whoever had been knocking on the door but Simon’s anxious thoughts had him up and opening the door before he could convince himself it was someone even worse than he was thinking now.

On the other side, there were no guards or mighty shadowhunters. Instead, there stood a lone Maryse Lightwood, who looked almost as awkward as Simon felt.

“Uh…” Simon backed up, ready to inform her that Alec wasn’t here and neither was he, thank you very much but Maryse opened her mouth before Simon could disappear back into Alec’s room and hide.

“Isabelle told me about your mother,” Maryse was saying. She spoke without looking at him. She forced the words out as if she had a hard time stomaching them or as if she was nervous, which was almost as unnerving as the sight of her standing there in the first place.

“Oh.” Simon frowned, not understanding where this was going.

“She told me about how she reacted to Alec and about how you decided it was best not to talk to her anymore,” she carried on.

Simon frowned deeper. He hadn’t exactly known Alec’s sister had known those things. He wasn’t upset Alec had told her, but for it to get to Isabelle and now Alec’s mother was more than a bit unsettling. “Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” Simon managed eventually, before he laughed nervously.

He thought they’d make small talk for a second and then Simon would pretend he had something to get back to and Maryse would pretend to believe him. Then, they’d both go their awkward separate ways. Then, Simon would wait until Alec got back before he rushed out everything that happened and just how odd his mother had been.

Instead, Maryse looked up at him for the first time in the entire conversation. She hesitated before she finally spoke again, “Alec cares about you,” she announced fervently. “And I don’t understand your relationship,” she carried on, just as strongly. “Nor do I like it.” She took in a deep breath before she spoke again. “But Alec cares about you,” she repeated, her voice taking on a softer tone. “I’ve never seen him smile as much as he has since he’s met you. So, if you ever need something or you need—” Maryse faltered, pausing for an uncertain moment before she chose to carry on, “If you ever need a mother, I- well, I’m here.”

Simon stared at her, feeling as if he might have hallucinated the entire conversation that just happened. His mind making this up seemed more realistic than Maryse Lightwood standing before him, telling him that if he ever needed something, she would be there for him but when Simon blinked and then, blinked again, she was still standing in front of him, as real as she’d always been.

“That’s very nice of you,” Simon managed out at last. As the words sunk in and he realized that she wasn’t kidding, he became more and more touched and then, he regretted not saying more but Maryse was already nodding.

“Okay then,” she said before she turned on her heels and started to walk briskly back down the hallway she’d come from.

Simon stared after her and almost let her go without another word but at the last second, right before she was about to turn the corner and disappear out of sight, he called out to her. “Maryse!” Simon took a step after her and then paused in the hallway he so rarely breached as she turned to look back at him, frowning this time.

“Thank you,” Simon said before he offered a soft smile. “I care about Alec too, just so you know.”

The tension faded from Maryse’s face. She stared at him for a long moment, considering. “Well, at least we have that in common.” She murmured before she was turning again and disappearing out of sight, leaving Simon once again alone to wait for his boyfriend.

“She just said she’d be there for you?” Alec asked incredulously.

Simon nodded, “Yeah and then I stopped her as she was leaving and I told her I cared about you. She turned back to me and we had like, like a moment! And then she said, ‘Well at least we have that in common’ and then she left!”

Alec frowned. “Are you sure you didn’t make this up?”

“No, I didn’t!” Simon insisted. “It actually happened! Your mom came and talked to me and she was sweet and nice!”

“Maybe, she’s sick,” Alec ventured, only sounding as if he was half kidding.

Simon shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, she should do it more often.”

Alec thought about it before he was nodding again and shrugging with one shoulder. “I guess so. Something’s gotten into her.”

The conversation stopped there as Alec ducked into the shower to wipe the ichor off of him. They talked about it a few times after that but they never came to any conclusion about why Alec’s mother had suddenly turned a new leaf.

It was only a few weeks later, when she announced that the Clave had decided to derune her that things started to make more and more sense. Despite the news being upsetting at first, Alec became closer to his mother than he ever had been and despite it being a little awkward in the beginning, her and Simon forged a bond over their shared love for her son — one that started in earnest after Maryse found herself runeless and without a home.

Months later, Simon would find himself going to Maryse one night when he was missing his mother and Alec was out. Simon didn’t tell Maryse why he stopped by, but he didn’t have to for her to understand and he certainly didn’t have to for her to open the door and let him in.

Neither of them could have ever expected that Simon’s mother would be the one to have a closed mind and that Maryse Lightwood would be the one to come around, but neither he nor Alec would have expected they’d start dating in the first place. Yet, they did.

As Simon grew older, he realized that you couldn’t always predict the way things would go, and that even if things seem unsalvageable, there might still be a way to make it work. He hadn’t found that with his own mother yet, but he was hopeful that he would someday. If not, he still had his boyfriend and more astonishing than that, he still had his boyfriend’s mother.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Art

For @mewsiex

Dear Kissa, I really really hope you will like this picture. I honestly tried so hard to write something but I just could not get it to work out, but you also listed fanart as something you’d enjoy, so based on your likes you listed, I went through your fics and I decided to make you a drawing based on one of your Jalec stories that I really love. I really love ‘Say Yes to Heaven’ so much, and especially the part where they’re together under the fairy lights in Jace’s special place. That part really stuck with me from the very first time I remember reading it, and I still think about this story today because of it. I really hope you’ll enjoy this picture as much as I still enjoy that story.💙💙

The picture below is a sfw version for tumblr's rules and regulatory reasons, for the full nsfw version, SEE ON AO3

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Something I Need

For @rubickk7

This prompt was amazing- and I couldn't resist it: BANTER BETWEEN GROWLY ONE AND SMILEY ONE. These two make me laugh; I would LOVE a Forced Proximity situation between these two, where they’re stuck together and they argue and bicker and then fuck. Something Made Them Do It - Lust Potion/Spell would be great here - you could force them to kiss due to a Fairy spell (hello Captivity - Captured Together), and then they Can’t Stop Thinking About It - The time they kissed. Hope you enjoy, Rubick!

Summary: Fuck. “Yeah,” Jace said emphatically and Simon realized he had sworn out loud. “I know we did.” Simon thanked his undead soul that he couldn’t blush. “But…” and here Simon couldn’t exactly read Jace’s expression. “Why? And how the hell did that Faerie drink affect us so badly?” Simon and Jace have been sent on a rescue mission to the Seelie Realm... it doesn't exactly go to plan.

Read on ao3

Simon tugged at his manacles, ineffectively. While he didn’t think they were immune to vamp strength, it would still take him a while to get free- an ominous sign, he thought.

On the opposite side of the damp, mossy cell, he saw Jace stir awake. Fingers twitching in his also manacled hands, his muscles rippled obscenely through his torn shirt, and despite the bruising, his lips looked as inviting and biteable as they had in-

Simon shook his head. Focus, Lewis. But distracting images from earlier in the evening kept swimming into view and he blinked desperately, trying to push them away.

“What the hell just happened?” Jace growled, his eyes finally able to fully focus on Simon.

Simon just about managed to contain his worry- had Jace been hit harder than he thought? Did he have a concussion? “We’re in the Unseelie King’s dungeons, probably about to be dragged before his throne, accused of spying or worse,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I hadn’t planned to do a dungeon crawl this evening…”

Despite the dire situation they found themselves in, Jace actually rolled his eyes. “No, I’m fully aware of our situation,” he said impatiently, chains rattling above in emphasis. But suddenly his eyes went wider, words stumbling out of his mouth and Simon wondered if he was also having sudden flashbacks to the revel in the meadow. “I - um, I meant about, you know- with what happened…” he trailed off.

Simon could still taste the slight salty taste of cum on his tongue- it had been distracting him throughout the long, uncomfortable ride slung over the back of a Faerie Knight’s horse.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” Jace said emphatically and Simon realized he had sworn out loud. “I know we did.”

Simon thanked his undead soul that he couldn’t blush.

“But…” and here Simon couldn’t exactly read Jace’s expression. “Why? And how the hell did that Faerie drink affect us so badly?”

*

Well… Simon had a hunch ‘it’ started when Alec had summoned him and Jace to his office in Alicante, with a distraught Helen Blackthorn hovering over the desk with a map of Faerie and a request to find her missing brother Mark, who, like her- was half-Seelie, half-Shadowhunter.

No, wait.

Simon had to be honest with himself… whatever it was between himself and Jace, that shit had been weird for months.

It had started with Clary- or, rather the lack of Clary. The fact that she was so tantalizingly close… but impossible to reach, given her punishment to live a mundane life (which was bullshit - Simon had a six step plan to go all biblical on Raziel’s ass and slowly it was coming together).

But in the meantime, he knew her absence was doing a number on both his and Jace’s headspaces and even though Simon missed his best friend, at least he wasn’t pulling a Edward Cullen.

“You can’t keep doing this, man,” he told Jace, when he pulled him away from Clary’s apartment window for the second time in a fortnight, as she hosted a movie night for her friends. “It’s fucking creepy– and,” he paused, watching Jace’s flat, panther-like stare, wondering who would win - Jace’s fist or Simon’s finely trained punch-evasion skills, honed since middle school and improved by vampire reflexes. “It’s not what she would have wanted for you,” he finished, softly.

Jace slumped and Simon was acutely aware how his arms were wrapped around his former rival, almost as if in a lover’s embrace. “I know, I know,” he whispered sadly.

“C’mon,” he said, almost in Jace’s ear, and was surprised to see the other man shiver. “Let’s go get a drink at Hunter’s Moon.”

Jace shrugged out Simon’s hug and let out a derisive laugh. “Because that’s the healthier coping mechanism,” he said.

Simon dropped his arms. “So? What do you want to do instead, Heathcliff?” he asked, challengingly.

Which is how Simon Lewis, vampire, ended up being Jace Herondale’s sparring buddy, at all hours of night.

Okay, maybe not all hours- six months in, he also had managed to convince Jace training 24/7 wasn’t feasible and was slowly corrupting him further into the world of videogames. Jace was a big fan of Skyrim, which Simon would not have guessed, as he would’ve pegged it too close to the day job. And if sometimes they played until the first rays of sunlight peeked through, leaning and falling asleep against one another’s shoulders on the comfy, slouchy couch in Simon’s apartment- well, that was part of the package deal too.

Simon grew used to Alec’s fond smirks as he’d grab moments away from his busy schedule as Inquisitor, his eyes soft as he watched his parabatai correct Simon’s stance for the hundredth time. While Izzy just laughed and leaned into Simon when he came whimpering to her afterwards, carefully tending to his bruises (yes, he was a vampire and yes, he still got bruises - there was still some blood flow, okay?) in the aftermath and listened to him complain.

“You’re good for him,” she said and there was something in her eyes, almost a hesitation in saying something more, that Simon didn’t want to probe too deeply into.

And he had to admit, he’d enjoyed the sessions too, and miracle of miracles- he was actually also getting better at fighting.

Which was probably how he had been assigned to the mission to rescue Helen’s brother in the first place. Well- that and the fact he was one of the main Downworlder deputies for the Institute. He had already been dragged along on some crazy-ass missions, sometimes with Isabelle but mostly with Jace as his partner, and surprisingly, he was actually enjoying them.

“I just- I’d go myself but the kids need me,” Helen said, her hands moving restlessly over the map she’d brought. She looked half-frightened and half-furious, Simon thought.

“Andrew Blackthorn was killed protecting the London Institute from Jonathan,” Alec told them, his voice sympathetic as he filled in the background of the mission.

Helen frowned, her expression distraught and distant, even as Aline held her hand and patted her shoulder in comfort. “Dad wasn’t even supposed to have been there- it was just a quick trip away from L.A. and…” Helen sighed. “And our step-mum died two years ago from cancer, so it’s just me now. And after Mark, Julian is the eldest, and he’s only fourteen so he can’t take care of the kids if I…”

“It’s fine, Helen-” Jace said, with a reassuring smile. “We’ll go and get your brother back.”

Aline nodded fiercely, scowling slightly at her broken shoulder in a sling, which despite iratzes hadn’t healed properly, preventing her from joining the mission. “You better, Herondale.”

Helen looked directly at Simon, and he knew instinctively that she had asked if he would come along on the mission. She trusted him, and Simon thought he knew why.

It’s not as if Jace wouldn’t protect Mark once he found him- but there was something single minded about the Shadowhunters, and sometimes… even now, Simon had to admit he kept hearing stories of Shadowhunters and how their protection extended to Downworlders wasn’t done with as much care as it could be.

That wasn’t Jace- but how was Helen to know that? Better to have Simon along.

“We’ll bring Mark home,” Simon told her. “You have my word.”

*

The Faerie revel they were infiltrating was based in a huge meadow, deep into the Seelie Realm and about an hour from the nearest entrance back to Central Park.

It was being held in honor of the new Unseelie King, who had stepped in to unite the Courts after the death of the Seelie Queen at the hands of Sebastien Morgenstern.

They didn’t know a lot about this King Arawn, Unseelie King, Knight of Morning, blah blah all the titles, as until this point, the Unseelie Court hadn’t made contact with the mundane world or the Shadowhunter Institutes in more than fifty years. So- alongside finding Mark, this was also to be a fact-finding mission, Alex told them.

Simon had never been to Burning Man but he wondered if this was the Seelie alternative to it - there was a lot of naked flesh, wildly-colored, textured clothes and most attendees wandering around looking blissed out.

“Try not to stare too much, Lewis,” Jace said, smirking as Simon narrowly avoided colliding with a Faerie who definitely had three sets of breasts, all of them fantastically on display in a dress that Simon had no idea actually worked without falling off.

Not that Simon had been looking.

“You want them to think you’re an ancient, mature vampire, not one fresh out of the coffin,” Jace said, dipping his head as he graciously accepted a champagne glass from a humanoid-looking tabby cat, dressed in old-fashioned clothes.

“I am trying,” Simon hissed, and then he snatched the drink out of Jace’s hands, just before he took a sip of the pink, bubbling drink. “Also- whoa, what the hell, man? You know the lore, probably better than me- no eating or drinking while in Faerie. You don’t want to end up as a rat, or you know, wake up in 100 years.”

Jace grinned, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “I could fight fantastically as a rat,” he said and then he nudged Simon. “So could you- with your experience and all that.”

“Very funny,” Simon said, who had tried hard to forget that experience. He looked at the drink critically, wondering and weighing up the consequences.

Jace relented. “Look- this is an open Welcome Revel- which by ancient decree means that the Fae- the Unseelie Court- is hosting this event without any repercussions or geas on their guests,” he said. He took the drink back from Simon, his calloused fingers gentle and warm, as they brushed against Simon’s. He knocked back the drink. “So- they can’t do anything that would harm us, including in our drinks or food.”

The tabby cat waiter at Simon’s waist piped up. “Indeed- noble sir tells the truth! There is nothing in these fruit juices that will harm you- and indeed, they may help you achieve your deepest desires.” Simon narrowed his eyes as the tabby cat handed him his own glass, smiling guilelessly.

Simon took a tentative sip of the liquid. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, the pomegranate-like taste exploding on his tongue and it was almost as if he were experiencing it through an additional sense. Simon took another drink, and another, draining the glass and then shivered. He popped the empty glass down. “If we come back 100 years later, you’re the one who is going to have to explain it to Alec and Izzy, okay?”

Jace smiled, and not for the first time, Simon realized how much he both hated and loved this wild, reckless side of Jace. He pulled at Simon’s shoulder. “See- we’re both fine.” He tugged them both back onto the path, and drew them further into the revel.

“Now- if I were an eighteen year old part-Shadowhunter, part-Seelie from L.A… where would I be?” Jace mused out loud. Helen hadn’t been able to tell them if Mark had been forced or gone willingly with the Fae, other than to say that the signs left in his room had pointed to an Unseelie Fae, given the dark, silvery arrowhead that had been left on his pillow.

Simon looked around- and then pointed. “Music tent?” he asked.

Mark was not in the music tent. Or in the large pond filled with Seelies partying on giant floatable lily-pads. Or to be found on the open-air ballroom, where dancers whirled and gyrated to some surprisingly catchy flute-techno remix.

Simon again studied the photo Helen had provided, looking down at a laughing Mark, his undercut fresh and sharp against his tanned skin, and blue-green eyes bright.

But Simon was starting to feel warm, and his nerves were tingling along the edge of his shoulders, as they went deeper into the revel. The carnival atmosphere of raucous laughter and loud music was overwhelming. There were so many bodies around them that Simon was almost being pushed into Jace, as the crowd of wild Fae pressed in against them.

“Jace-” he said, nearly in his ear and the other man let out an involuntary shiver.

But Jace had followed the line to the largest of tents pitched near the back of the meadow, replescent in dark purple, still intent on the hunt. “I think I just saw someone, maybe Mark- go in here-” he said, gesturing. Simon stood still, trying to get his bearings and figure out what this feeling was… and he was too slow. Jace let out a soft growl of frustration, and grabbed Simon’s hand, pulling him into a small side fold of the tent.

Simon couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as Jace did so.

An overflowing feeling of want , need, desire coursed through him.

Jace looked up at him in concern but as he gazed into Simon’s eyes, Simon saw a flicker of recognition and he knew suddenly that they were, to put it mildly, in deep trouble.

“Jace- those drinks…” Simon saw Jace dart a glance down at his lips, before squeezing his eyes shut and trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah- okay fine- you might’ve had a point,” he conceded. “But keep your wits about you- and let’s just try to find the Blackthorn kid and get out of here, yeah?”

“I’m not a kid,” came a voice behind them, and both Simon and Jace whirled around to find Mark Blackthorn standing behind them. Gone was the happy-go-lucky surfer kid from Helen’s photo- Mark was now dressed in a deep green tunic that stopped midway down his thighs, twisting silver vines twining up his bare arms, contrasting sharply with his black Shadowhunter runes, and continuing up the left side of his face. And while Simon hadn’t previously noticed Mark's pointed ears, his now-braided and flower-crowned hair showcased his Fae heritage to the full degree.

He looked feral but when he spoke, his voice was a normal Californian drawl. “Can’t I get away for one evening without Helen going all parental?” Mark sighed dramatically, and raised an eyebrow at them. “It’s barely been any time at all- how about you guys tell her that I’ll be back before the first light of dawn?”

“You’ve been gone for three weeks, Mark,” Jace told him sharply.

Mark stiffened. “Not possible,” he said, and his eyes flickered past the two of them, as if searching for someone.

“Oh, believe me-  it is,” Simon said. “Look- I’m Simon and this is Jace, we’re from the New York Institute. Your sister is worried sick about you, so you need to come home with us now ,” he said.

Simon suddenly noticed he and Jace were still holding hands, and Mark’s eyes had dropped to observe that. He didn’t look surprised, or disgusted but his next glance to them was considering. Simon thought about letting go of Jace’s hand but then considered that actually, he didn’t want to.

“Mark!” A low, musical voice swirled around in the air, and a lithe, dark-haired Faerie danced up behind him, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him in, placing a possessive kiss on Mark’s neck. Mark smiled and pulled him closer, but the smile was strained as he answered softly. “Kieran.”

The Faerie stared at Simon and Jace. “Who are you?” he demanded, his hair rapidly turning a dark, stormy blue as he spoke. In his voice, Simon was instantly transported back to standing before a throne and a similar imperious, demanding voice.

“My sister’s rescue squad,” Mark said, but his voice held no amusement. “Kier- they said I’ve been gone for three weeks- ” He shook himself free from the Unseelie Fae’s embrace. “Is this true?” Simon looked over to Jace, wondering what he was making of it, to find Jace was staring directly at him instead, his gaze so hot that Simon immediately knew, exactly what he was thinking. They were definitely, definitely in deep shit.

Kieran’s eyes glanced between all three of them. “I promised I’d get you back before the first light of dawn, Mark, Son of Thorns,” he said, shrugging elegantly. “It may be that this has been longer in the mortal realm.

“That’s not-” Mark said, his voice growing angry.

Simon was dimly aware of a hubbub rising behind them, and murmur of voices. “It’s my father,” Kieran said, and he grabbed Mark, and waved his arm at Simon and Jace. “Quick- you must hide- he won’t be pleased to see Shadowhunters here.”

As row after row of extravagantly-dressed Faeries marched past their hiding spot, Simon found himself kneeling behind a pile of rugs, leaning against Jace in a way that was both better and worse than he imagined. Jace had snatched away his hand and was cradling it in a way that seemed like he was keeping it away from Simon only under the threat of pain.

Mark and Kieran looked at them, watching as their breathing grew faster, heavier and they avoided each other’s gaze. “Jace- I,” Simon whispered and shook his head, feeling embarrassed they had an audience. He felt like he was starting to burn from the wanting .

“Sometimes Seelie food and drink can take mortals by surprise,” Mark said sympathetically, studying them. “Especially, I heard- ones with unrequited feelings.”

“We’re a Shadowhunter and vampire,” Jace said, his voice hoarse and strained, as he huddled into himself. “We’ll get through it.”

“Jace- maybe I should- we should separate,” Simon said.

Kieran shook his head. “No- you’ll only prolong the inevitable.” He watched them with ink-black eyes, as if trying to decide something. He lifted up a flap of tent behind them. “Go- there’s a small clearing only a few moments from here.” His smile was almost a smirk, as he looked to Mark. “My beloved Mark and I have some things to discuss- and you both look like you need to also… as they say in the mortal world ‘take care of some business’ amongst yourselves.”

Simon wanted to protest but Jace had already risen and had his hand in Simon’s shirt, pulling him away. “We’ll be back- and then you’re coming back with us,” he said, his voice low, with a hint of a growl.

“See you,” Mark’s amused voice echoed in Simon’s ears.

He could barely think as they tramped through the woods, before almost falling into the small clearing, and then he was being pushed up against a tree by Jace.

“Jace.. I think Kieran is part of-mmm,” Simon was cut off from finishing his sentence. Jace’s kiss was rough and urgent, and almost by instinct Simon parted his lips, feeling Jace’s tongue slip inside as he returned the kiss, feeling the burning ember of desire explode into flames.

Jace broke the kiss off with a groan. “Simon- I don’t care,” he said, and then his hand was underneath Simon’s chin, so Simon had to look directly into his eyes, glittering with a hard and desperate longing. “Look, this is a spell- or basically the equivalent and I don’t-” Jace’s breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m not going to force you, so tell me no, and I swear that I will-.”

“Jace,” Simon was surprised at how clear his voice was, considering how shaky his legs were. “Don’t stop,” he said, as he hooked his fingers into Jace’s jeans, so that he could feel Jace’s solid, muscular frame pressed against him. Every part of his body- and Simon felt Jace shift, almost as if to move back.

Simon wrapped his arms around Jace’s waist, and with his vampire strength, he was pivoting them around, so that he was the one on top, Jace with his back against the old tree. They were kissing again, and grinding together; even through fabric, the sweet friction was almost too much and Simon pressed deeper, seeking release.

Jace gasped, and his hands were fumbling against Simon’s belt, undoing it. He slipped a large hand in, palming Simon’s dick and it was all Simon could do from moaning back.

Suddenly his bloodlust, usually kept well under control, was roaring through him, and his fangs descended.

Jace’s voice cut through. “S’okay if-” he said, giving permission, as Simon was barely able to keep himself from being gentle as he tongued over Jace’s pulse point before sinking his teeth in.

Jace’s blood was sweet, and hot and so so good. Below, Jace’s hand stopped for a moment against him, before resuming the long, exquisite strokes, while his other hand drifted up to grip in Simon’s hair, pulling him towards him, his soft, desperate breaths encouraging.

Simon sucked, deeper and longer and Jace twisted his head away, a piece of hair tickling Simon’s forehead, as he sought to give him greater access to his neck. Simon drank, and beneath him Jace murmured low endearments and occasional moans.

Careful. Not too much. The voice in his head whispered.

Simon paused, and he could hear a whine building in Jace’s throat, his fingers tugging at his hair, telling him not to stop.

Quickly, he disentangled himself and took two steps back, shaking his head. So, he and Jace were doing this. Fine, cool- it’s not like he hadn’t ever thought about it before, briefly - sometimes in the shower- or on the rare occasion he had Jace pinned beneath him in training, considering eyes and contained strength staring back, challenging him. But drinking Jace’s blood , that was a whole other ballpark.

He knew he had to go slow, take a break- this was not the time to have Jace fainting due to blood loss. But he didn’t want to.

“What are you doing?” Jace demanded, and the pupils in his eyes were blown out wide, the color almost gone. He reached for Simon, to draw him back in. “Don’t stop.”

Simon sidestepped Jace’s attempt, and he smiled, knowing his teeth were in full view, bloody and red. “What’ll you do to earn it?” he asked, slightly desperately.

Jace dropped to his knees, and Simon’s undead heart would have been pounding a mile a minute at this stage, if it could, as Jace pulled him closer, yanking down his jeans and underwear, exposing a currently aching and sensitive part of Simon to the warm evening air.

“Oh, that’s how we’re playing it, huh?” Jace said, a playful and arrogant tone emerging. He licked along the side of Simon’s dick and it jerked in pleasurable response and unwanted whimper was dragged from his throat.

That same, dangerous grin emerged from Jace but he didn’t say anything further, just looked up at Simon, a knowing glint in his eye. Then he was swallowing Simon with those soft, full red lips of his and the soft, slick rhythm was sending stars beneath Simon’s eyelids and waves of sensation throughout his body.

Simon moaned, slipping his own hand into Jace’s longer, blond hair, urging him deeper. Jace accepted the challenge and his rhythm increased, Simon thrusting, slowly and then with more urgency as Jace matched his pace.

Simon might’ve been embarrassed at how quickly he came, spurting into Jace’s mouth, his cum glistening like diamonds in the Faerie moonlight, on Jace’s chin, on the leaves around them in the small clearing. But looking down at Jace and his unearthly, angelic beauty, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jace’s smile was oddly sweet and vulnerable as he looked up at Simon, not saying anything.

“That was- thank you. Although- have to admit, I always thought you’d buy me dinner first before I joined your book club…” Simon said, once he caught his breath. Jace shrugged, still smiling. “Still can, if you want.”

He pulled Jace up, not caring that his jeans were still around his knees. He kissed Jace, the taste of cum salty and slick against their lips and the fire of desire reignited once again. He could feel Jace’s hardness pressing against his bare thigh. He fingered Jace’s zipper, dragging it down before he could lose his nerve. “My turn,” he said and he could feel Jace’s smile curve against his lips.

But then they both heard it- the distinct sound of brushes rustling around them. Jace spun away, reaching for his weapons belt- which was less armed than normal, given this was supposed to be a covert mission.

Simon quickly fastened up his pants, while at the same time, scanning the tree line with his heightened senses. Whoever it was- they were almost upon them.

Faerie soldiers burst into the clearing. Simon had a brief moment to wonder if he and Jace could pull off the old ‘we’re in the midst of a tryst’ scam (because technically- they were ) but the look on the largest and most extravagantly dressed Faerie, with the sigil of the Unseelie King prominent on his chest, was distinctly unfriendly.

Kieran must’ve told on them, he quickly theorized, unwilling to let Mark leave, and took the opportunity while they were ‘distracted’ to form a plan to get them out of the way.

“Shadowhunter spies,” the big Faerie knight rumbled. “We don’t take kindly to spies in the Unseelie Court."

Simon felt vaguely insulted. “Hey- I don’t know if you realized but there’s only one Shadowhunter here- there’s also a vampire too? Me?”

Jace looked at him in exasperation. “Timing!” he said, before he was engaging in combat with two of the closest Faerie knights.

The knight looked steadily at him. “Vampire spy,” he agreed, and moved to grab Simon.

*

The fight had been brutal and short- the two of them no match for the ten heavily armed soldiers. Jace had been knocked unconscious and Simon incapacitated enough that he had had to wait to heal.

Now they were in a dungeon, waiting on ‘His Majesty’s pleasure’, according to one of the Unseelie Knights, who had said it with a nasty laugh as he slammed the door shut.

Simon was acutely conscious of Jace’s eyes on him, as he wondered out loud again about the effect of the drink and the… aftermath.

But then reality set in, and he locked eyes with Jace, and suddenly they were both in complete agreement.

“This isn’t-” he began.

“We can deal with it later-” Jace agreed, a small smile playing about his lips. “Correct response, Lewis.”

Simon kept testing his manacles- he thought, yes- there was definitely some movement there. “I think I should be able to get free soon. How about you?”

Jace just winked at him (because of course), and Simon watched as his eyes glowed gold, activating one of the runes on his forearm. “No problemo,” he said, as he freed himself. And then he was across the cell, reaching out with his stele to draw another rune across Simon’s manacles

“Show-off and… hey, I was almost there,” Simon said, acutely aware of Jace’s warm hands on his shoulders, as he pulled him up carefully, eyes hooded in the dim light, as Jace scanned for any injuries.

“I know,” he replied. “But look- we need to get Mark out and extract ourselves now. ”

“Agreed- I’m not super keen to meet this Unseelie King,” Simon said. “Also, I think Kieran is a member of the royal family.”

“He is,” came a voice from the other side of the cell door. Mark’s face peered through the bars. “He’s the King’s youngest son.”

There was a sound of scuffing and metal squeaking, and then the door swung open, and Mark stood in the entrance. He was dressed in different clothes- still Seelie-made but plainer this time, a pair of dark trousers and white linen shirt.

Mark ducked his head. “I- look, I’m sorry Kieran ratted you out to his father- I- didn’t think he’d do that but… he can be a bit possessive.”

Jace looked him up and down brusquely. “Right. You’re ready to come back with us then?”

Mark squirmed slightly under Jace’s gaze but then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah- I am.”

Simon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Jace’s eyes flashed again, and another rune activated on his collarbone.

“What’s that one?” Simon asked, curious. He didn’t think he recognized it- and at this stage, he knew a lot of the Shadowhunters’ runes.

Jace grinned. “Bat signal,” he said, and Simon laughed. “Did you just make a pop culture-”

“Yes, yes- I did,” Jace said, smiling. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Best influence, you mean,” Simon said, watching as a blue light grew in the corner and a Portal started opening up.

Mark watched them, a slightly glum expression on his face. “So you guys would’ve been okay even if I hadn’t risked my neck to get these keys?”

“Oh- we appreciate it,” Simon told him. “Big time, as it brought you here at the right moment- and I promised Helen I was going to bring you home.”

At the mention of his sister, Mark brightened. “She was really worried, huh?”

“Yeah, she was-” Simon said. “You ready to go home, Mark Blackthorn?”

The Portal fully materialized, and through the other side Simon could see the Institute and Magnus concentrating on holding it open for them, and Alec and Izzy’s worried faces.

Mark nodded, even as he threw a longing glance over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said.

All three of them stepped through the Portal.

*

After depositing Mark with Izzy and getting her eager intern Cristina to contact Helen to let her know her brother was back safe and sound, Simon felt himself at loose ends.

Alec had drawn Jace into his office for a quick debrief, and Simon found himself huddling outside in the hallway, waiting, and ignoring the dirty looks from several Institute guards, who seemed to find it suspicious that a vampire was hanging outside the Inquisitor’s offices. Which… okay, maybe fair, Simon thought.

But he wasn’t waiting for Alec but Jace… and when he finally emerged, he stopped, watching Simon with a soft, almost puzzled look. He didn’t say anything though- and after a moment, he started walking away.

Simon started, he had been paralyzed himself. He willed himself to move, but there was something- no, someone at his elbow, and he realized it was Alec.

“I should go after him,” he told Alec.

Alec shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Give him a bit of space.” And Simon wondered what Jace had told Alec about the trip.

He watched the other man for clues, and was rewarded when Alec took a deep breath and let go of Simon’s arm. “Tomorrow evening,” was all he said, before he disappeared back into the office. “Don’t fuck it up, okay?”

And Simon understood.

He had to tell Isabelle, of course. She listened gravely, as he told her the tale, and when he was finished, she was quiet for a minute, then said: “Good.”

“Good as in-?” Simon asked. He didn’t know exactly what they had together- they hooked up, of course, and were fantastic friends but he knew that Isabelle was still regularly seeing others- and he wasn’t about to ask her to adjust her life for him.

“You’re good for him. And he’s good for you,” she told her, fondly, as she shifted a piece of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “I’m glad you’ve found each other after- after Clary,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” Simon said, pulling her into a hug.

*

He was nervous- of course he was- going up to Jace’s room in the Institute. He paused in front of the door, willing himself to knock, when it swung open.

Jace stood there, arms crossed, the light from his room shadowing his face.

“Can I come in?” Simon asked.

Jace nodded, and together, they crossed the room and sat on Jace’s bed, side by side.

“It doesn’t mean forgetting her,” Simon blurted out, as the moments stretched on, and neither of them said anything.

Jace looked up sharply. “Of course not-” he said, and then he reached into his pocket, and brought up a creased, folded letter.

“She wrote to me-” he said, and then he stopped. “She wrote to me in her letter, and asked me to look out for you, in the Shadow World, did you know that?”

Simon shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to pry.

“And I failed,” Jace said, angrily. But it seemed that the anger was internal, not directed at him, Simon thought.

“I’m sorry for that, Simon.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “What- what are you talking about?”

“Subjecting you to my lust, after convincing you to drink that Faerie drink,” Jace said, looking down at his hands.

“Who- wait, Jace- look both of us were there, and willing, okay?” Simon said, moving closer to the dejected Jace.

Jace looked up, his eyes restless and searching Simon’s face as if looking for a clue.

“I. Wanted. To.” Simon spelled it out for him. “I wanted to kiss you and do- do,” he fumbled. God, he was a badass vampire now and he couldn’t even say the words.

A small smile tugged at Jace’s lips. “Do unspeakable things to me?” he asked.

“Yes, that,” Simon said, and summoning up his courage, he reached for Jace’s hand. "And I still want that."

Jace let him, and after a few beats, Simon lifted his hand up, and gently turned Jace’s face towards him.

Despite the dimly-lit room, Simon could see hope, and yearning cross the other man’s face, and he knew what he had to do.

He leaned forward and kissed Jace, deepening the kiss after a few moments to a hungrier and more primal desire. Jace kissed him back, just as wildly and freely.

“And I think before we were so rudely interrupted…” Simon said, gasping slightly as he pulled away. “As I had been saying- it’s my turn now.”

Jace's returning smile was sly, almost as if he were daring Simon to go on.

"What are you waiting for?" Jace asked.

And not for the first time or even the fiftieth time, Simon realized how much he loved this wild, reckless side of Jace.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Fight The Future

For @polarnacht1

I hope you like your fic, it was forged in the pits of despair and late-night inspiration and I did my best to write something my dear fandom friend would enjoy.

Summary: Alec is salty at Jace for giving the new girl attention at his expense. He feels that Jace is neglecting the parabatai bond to chase after Clary, and after the memory demon, Alec feels even more betrayed and left out in the cold. When he does approach Jace to clear the air, the conversation doesn't really go like in the series and 100% Jalec ensues.

Read on Ao3

Jace wakes up with a start, looking outside. It’s still dark, but birds are starting to sing. Soon, dawn will crack and everything will slowly be enveloped in light. That’s when Alec wakes up, from the first rays of sun in the distance, shyly reaching into his room and caressing his face.

But Jace is faster than that, and plus, he has an interest in reaching Alec before the sun does. Barefoot and wrapped in a blanket, he slips into his trainers, not lacing them this time, and on footfalls soft like a cat’s, he makes his way to Alec’s room below. Once at the door, he simply slips in, because no matter how many locking runes Alec stacks on his door and walls, they do not work against his own soul, which also lives in Jace, who takes full advantage of that.

Fortunately for Alec, the extent of Jace’s selfish intentions is to sneak into his room before dawn and climb into bed with him, burrow into his arms and just savour the last few minutes of peace before the day starts, together with his parabatai. Jace is the stronger one of them, but he does need more recharging. He seeks Alec’s closeness and needs it a lot more than the other way around. All this time, Alec is denying himself the comfort of being close to his parabatai like the bond demands most of the time, for reasons Jace fails to see or understand, and Alec shuts down and gets morose if he brings it up. But for now, Alec is still blissfully asleep, subconsciously having left room for Jace in bed since he sleeps on one side of the bed instead of in the middle, and while his bed is big enough for three of him, Jace likes to splay out and sleep in weird positions.

Carefully, Jace sheds the blanket he had around himself and toes off his trainers, climbing under the cover and snuggling close against his parabatai’s side. Alec feels the new warmth and weight pressing close and sleepily adjusts himself, wrapping his arms around Jace and pulling him near, taking one deep inhale with his nose in Jace’s golden strands, then falling back asleep with a contented smile on his face.

It’s later in the morning, but still early when Alec wakes up, the first rays of the sun tickling his face and making him need to sneeze. But it could also be Jace’s hair, since it turns out his bed again has an invader who crawled all up in his business, until his nose ended up buried in gold strands. He tries to extricate himself from around and under Jace without waking him, although he knows he stands no chance. It’s always the same push and pull, everything is a game to Jace. A game for him to win. “Where do you need to be this early? No one else is awake.” Jace says, sounding suspiciously clear for someone who just got jostled awake. “I bet even demons are sleeping in their slimy, disgusting little cots at this hour.” “This is when I wake up. Deal with it.” Alec says, sighing and rolling his eyes. “Not everyone is as lazy as you.” “I’m not lazy, I preserve energy.” Jace says, tightening his hold around Alec and somehow making himself impossibly heavy, so that Alec simply cannot move from under him. “I need to pee, asshole. Let me go.” Alec presses out through clenched teeth. “You’re not going to make me wet my bed, are you? We’re grown men.” “Of course not.” Jace says, moving off of his parabatai and looking at him disapprovingly. “I just wanted a few more minutes. We were so warm and cozy under there. Then your bladder had to ruin it all. And we’re not grown men, how is nineteen and twenty-one grown?” “I can drink in mundane bars.” Alec says. “And we’re Shadowhunters. We’re grown since the moment we got our first rune.” He stops as soon as he said that and he disappears in the adjacent bathroom, sighing. Jace got runes earlier than any child and Michael Wayland was not a particularly soft and mothering type. He did a lot of things to Jace that no child should have to power through or defeat just to stay alive or be allowed to be warm, rested and fed. Alec regrets putting his finger on that particular wound from Jace’s past just for the sake of self-defence in a low-stakes banter. Once he pees and freshens up a bit, he returns to his bedroom, where Jace is still in bed, his bare top half and his bare feet peeking out from under the covers. It’s enough for Alec’s imagination to go places he tried time and time again to forbid it to go to. Why does Jace have to be so alluring and then cruelly dangle it in front of Alec with no intention of ever letting him have a taste. It’s the supreme torture. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, but don’t swallow. There is no greater hell, Alec thinks, trying to make his whole body wind down to a normal, placid state. He should not blame Jace either. It is his flaw that he is so vulnerable, so easily rendered powerless by Jace being so pretty, so soft, so warm and so clingy. And it’s his responsibility to fix this flaw in his nature, that makes him so weak to his parabatai’s mere presence, let alone closeness. It is a secret he must take to the grave, Alec thinks. Or find ways of managing, without affecting the relationships in his life and without hurting those he loves. Because it’s not just alright, but also expected of him to love his parabatai. But not like this… not in this gross and animal way, which stubbornly resists his attempts at discipline. If his mother knew, she’d kill him on the spot for once again covering their family name in shame just by existing in this way. For now, he has no choice but to look at Jace, who is still in his bed, slightly flushed from being warm under the covers, smiling at him and reaching for him, beckoning him to come back. It’s not right. They are men. They should not be snuggling together under blankets like children, no matter how good it feels. And frankly, Alec doesn’t see why Jace doesn’t realise how childish he is being.

Much later in the day, they’ve been training for hours and Alec is starting to see green dots dancing in front of his eyes. He shouldn’t have said no to that protein shake earlier. He’ll have one once training is over. But before he can take a break and refuel, he finds himself sparring with Jace, long after everyone else finished in the gym and left for dinner and their respective assignments for the night. Fighting with Jace like this is always high energy, wild and explosive, and Alec often finds himself barely keeping up, because, while taller and with a longer reach, he is not as fast or as determined as Jace and, while he can cleave his way around quite a few demons in battle, against Jace he is often just defending himself and blocking the blows which keep coming at a rate he can often not even process. Even with runes, there’s no way for him to match Jace (and you’d think angels would want to give each of their children a fighting chance, but okay, Alec has never been anyone’s first choice so he can live with that). As soon as he lets the thought of no one ever choosing him take centre stage in his mind, Alec’s concentration breaks and he sees himself hitting the training floor with his back, almost breaking it, if it weren’t for Jace’s quick reflexes cutting in, making Jace turn him on his side to avoid the painful impact. But, as soon as Alec is firmly on the floor, Jace is on top of him, straddling him victoriously and twisting his arm with no trace of his previous consideration for Alec’s bones. “Yield.” Jace almost sings the word, his elation at winning once again audible in the word.

“Asshole.” “Ah, but I’m your asshole and you love me.” Alec can only make an inarticulate sound in response, the pain from his arm tethering him to his body and reminding him he is under Jace, who sits on his lower back feeling incredibly heavy for someone as lean as him. He can’t really concentrate on the banter, because the feelings and sensations he loves to hate are taking over him. It starts with shame at being defeated, which is more of a reflex to him, then it progresses to relief, elation and a sense of peace, maybe even joy, that have his soul floating somewhere fuzzy and pleasant and leave his body on edge. Also, Jace being pressed flush against him, his every contour discernible through the thin workout pants, only amplifies his body’s response. Alec hates it. He hates that it gets to him so much, that he looks forward to these moments and they are the highlight of his week. It’s the one time when he no longer has to pretend and let go of his constant self-control. He feels dirty and broken for loving this, for feeling so right whenever he finds himself beneath Jace, yielding to him. And Jace never forces him past a certain point, it’s like a dance they do. Jace will be on top of him, immovable and unnaturally heavy, and he will thrash a bit, looking like he minds he’s under Jace, then Jace will tighten his grip and wait, with his cocky raised eyebrow and an indulgent smile, for Alec to be comfortable enough and choose when and how he taps out. Because, underneath it all, that’s what it’s about. Alec loves giving in. Not unjustly, but when Jace subdues him after besting him in combat, he feels pure relief, euphoria even, to just give in and let Jace know he’s won and has the choice to still keep him there a bit, to savour his win, or to let him go. And now? If only Alec could just get out of his own way for a moment. Jace is still waiting, still holding his arm in a vice grip, but the torsion stopped. Alec is still consumed with the sensations fighting to take the foreground inside him. The exhaustion from the fight, the adrenaline, the relief he feels every time he finds himself under Jace like this, and something else he does not dare put a name to. “Ah, fuck it.” Jace announces and releases Alec’s arm, but before Alec can buck up and try to shake him off, he flops forward onto Alec’s back and chuckles softly in his ear. “I can do this all day, I have nowhere pressing to be.” Alec fully intends to huff out his annoyance at Jace being a pest again, when he feels fingers in his hair, pulling his head to the side, and lips on his deflect rune. First soft and teasing, barely there, then full on sucking on the skin. The sound that leaves Alec’s lips sounds alien to him. “Yield,” comes Jace’s low-spoken command. Alec’s whole body does, before he can decide to still put up a resistance or not, and now he realises with horror what the mounting tension and that other thing he didn’t dare to name were, as he feels the wetness in the front of his briefs soak through the fabric of his workout pants as well. He only remembers to tap out because his body recalls being in this position often.

“Wow, Alec are you okay?” Jace asks, finally seeming to snap out of his weird cuddle-mode, after rubbing himself against Alec beneath him the way a cat rubs itself on a dead fish it found. It’s as though he finally remembered Alec is someone else, not his personal scratcher and small touch dispenser. He slips off of Alec’s back and lies down next to him, waiting. “Actually this is a good spot. Everything looks so distant and unimportant from this angle.” Jace comments, slipping his hand into Alec’s nearby one. “No really, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine.” Alec says eventually, still feeling like someone filled him with lava and screwed the lid back on. “Just tired I guess. Why did you have to do that to my poor rune?” “You were not reacting! You weren’t responding to pain and I didn’t have a good spot to tickle.” “Well, it fucking worked, too well I might add. I’m here now. And will be feeling like I’m full of bees for the rest of the day.” “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to snap you out of whatever that was.” “I don’t know what that was myself. But it might be a while until it passes.” “Hey, do you think maybe one of those huge plants you walked into in the Seelie realm gave you some weird shit? You were covered in pollen at some point when we got out of there last week.” “Maybe,” Alec says, removing his hand from around Jace’s and turning to also lie on his back on the floor of the gym. Jace slips his hand in Alec’s again and sighs. “I don’t feel any different than before, certainly not worse.” Alec says, closing his eyes. The cause of how he’s been acting lately is lying next to him, with his smaller hand pushed obstinately in his. Jace is his heaven and his hell, and he has no idea how he’s going to cope with it going forward. The older they get, the less acceptable Jace’s over-affectionate ways will be and the less they will be allowed the same level of intimacy they are allowed now. And Alec still has to find a way to handle his less than angelic needs and urges, the ones which have been tormenting him ever since Jace turned seventeen and Alec’s body let him know they were no longer two kids shivering under one blanket. Just the thought of that makes him feel cold inside and alone. He hates that he’s alone with this big ugly secret and that he has no one to at least talk to.

Clary’s arrival shakes Alec’s world from the ground up. Actually, no. He feels like his life has been put into a blender and someone added a sack of dogshit in there, then put it all on the highest speed setting. Jace acts like he’s possessed, following the new girl around like a little puppy. It’s disgusting to witness and Alec does not have the heart to stick around and watch, for his own sanity, but also, he feels he has to, because if he doesn’t keep a clear mind, his parabatai will get himself killed on his mad quest to help Clary and also get into her pants. It all comes to a head in a cemetery, late at night, as they are having a heated argument about the ways and the extent to which they’ll help Clary, standing next to a weapons cache that Jace knew about. But the fake grave did not hide a bow and arrows, so Alec has to return to the Institute for his own weapons. However, before he goes, he tells Jace how much he doesn’t appreciate that Jace, otherwise capable of prolonged focus in battle, is ready to get them all killed just because he desperately wants to get laid. It’s when Alec sees a new expression on his parabatai’s face, although he thought he’d seen them all. It’s disgust, mixed with disappointment and betrayal, and Alec instinctively knows he’s crossed a line and he cannot go back behind it. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jace says, and the mission carries on, although Alec now feels like his mistake takes bigger and bigger proportions. It’s even more terrifying that Jace let it go so gracefully, because this is very unlike him and Alec feels himself get sick with worry about what his latest mistake will mean for his future with his parabatai. What if this was the final drop and Jace decides he’s done with the whole parabatai stuff and walks out on Alec? What if Jace is so deeply wounded by his words that he does something reckless and gets himself killed? He looks death straight in the eye countless times, more often now that the new girl is in the picture, but that’s business as usual for Alec. What isn’t usual at all is the distance between him and Jace at daytime and during missions. The bond starts to let him know Jace is in actual pain from staying away for so long, and that knowledge crushes Alec. Even though he hates that his parabatai took an interest in a mundane girl, he hates the fact that Jace feels unsupported and without his parabatai having his back even more. At night though, once everyone settles for sleep, Jace lets himself into Alec’s bedroom. “Scoot over.” Jace says, looking like this day in particular got to him. And nothing ever really gets to Jace. Alec is tempted to ask him why he doesn’t go to snuggle with his new favourite person, but he reconsiders, and instead does as he’s told, noticing the weary way Jace collapses into bed next to him and seeks his warmth. Jace came in wearing a hoodie with no t-shirt under it, and as soon as Alec pulls the blanket up over him, he wriggles out of the hoodie and burrows closer, sighing and nuzzling into the side of Alec’s neck. It’s a strange feeling, to be the source of both pain and relief for his parabatai, and Alec feels overcome with the urge to protect the boy currently hiding from the world here, under his blanket, in his bed. He shouldn’t think of Jace as a boy. They are men, like he himself likes to often point out, but he knows all too well that’s bullshit. Jace is a boy, and the fact that he was taught how to use very sharp and deadly things from an early age doesn’t make him mature, just as the violence he endured and the brushes with death he survived don’t make him any less fragile and deserving of care. They had a long and intense day, as was the case every day since Clary came crashing into their lives. While Izzy might find it exciting to not always “go on a mission, kill demons”, Alec doesn’t appreciate the direction their lives are changing towards. There is, however, one positive side to it all - they are so busy chasing the new girl’s visions and dream snippets, that is, when they are not

fighting for their lives, that Alec no longer has the mental space to dwell on his thoughts and feelings about Jace. That guilt about not loving his parabatai properly and that shame about being unable to stop himself from responding to Jace’s  presence, his looks, his sweetness… all that is suspended for the time being, until the new girl finds her mom and until they aren’t running from one clue to the next. After that, Alec is sure of it, he will have to answer to his mother and to the Clave for all the times they broke the Accords, and after that none of this will be his problem anymore because he’ll most likely be sent to the Gard and/or executed. The fake sense of peace he gives himself at the thought of dying so young is shaky at best, and its only leg to stand on is his conviction that Jace fell for the new girl with the red hair, who is all the things Alec could never hope to be. And since Nephilim only love once, there goes his last, scrawny little hope. “Alec. Go to sleep, I’m begging you. We need all the energy we can spare these days and you’re wasting yours on worrying.” Jace says, snuffling into the warmed cotton of Alec’s sleep t-shirt and putting an arm and a leg over Alec, as though to help keep the worries at bay. It does help, and Alec eventually drifts off to sleep, feeling pleasantly warm and cocooned with Jace tangled around him like a clingy, sleepy kraken.

It doesn’t help that the warlock they met with escapes without them getting any useful information, and now the ruby necklace Hodge gave them is missing too, and for nothing. Jace insists on parabatai tracking and while Alec knows it works, especially when the two of them do it, he’s furious he has to do something so intimate and powerful with an audience, specifically with Clary watching. But he has no choice, so he goes along with it and as usual, he gets so lost in Jace and is left craving his actual, physical closeness in any way he can get, but instead he gets Jace shaking the remnants off the magical workings of the tracking like it’s some pesky residue he has no time for. Sometimes, Alec could swear Jace feels the same thing he feels, in those long seconds between the moment they pinpoint what they are looking for and the  moment when Jace remembers their mission. And it kills him to see, every time, that Jace chooses the mission over diving into that feeling. Alec also overhears Clary telling Izzy that their parabatai “thing” looks awfully intimate and he sighs, hanging his head in powerless annoyance. He would have preferred that Clary not see their tracking. She may as well have seen them naked. He feels even more alone when Izzy meets him in the basement of a meat-packing facility right next to the Hotel DuMort, and she has fairy dust on her dress, which points to the exact nature of the intelligence gathering work she did to get them here. Where they will probably die distracting “only” a few tens of vampires sent by Camille Belcourt to deal with them. And for what? For Clary’s pet mundane friend, a human so revolting, so loud and inconsiderate of their customs that Alec regrets not smiting him where he stood the first time he darkened the floor of the war room at the Institute.

“Alec, you should consider loosening up now and then. We all need it. You’d be happier if you weren’t so damn repressed.” Izzy says, amused, as they fight off droves of vampires. “What do you even know about repressed? You’ve never not done exactly what you wanted, how you wanted it and you always got away with it.” Alec says, remembering how unjust it was that she was daddy’s little princess and perfect warrior who could do no harm while they grew up, and that at the same time he was being saddled with responsibility for her mischief. He’s amazed her antics never got him whipped, and that is only because Jace usually got mixed up in whatever Izzy had cooking and Jace always had a big mouth and a lack of consideration for their parents’ authority. “I know enough to tell you that you need to stop being like that before you get yourself killed.” Izzy says, while gracefully deflecting a swat from a clawed vampire hand and slaying the vampire who dared come close to her. Suddenly, all the vampires run away in the opposite direction, as though answering an inaudible call, and Izzy and Alec are left alone in the damp basement. “To the penthouse, now. Jace and Clary are about to be swarmed by vampires, and Camille is up there too!” Izzy thinks aloud and books it to the penthouse, giving Alec no choice but to run after her. If this mission had a high chance of going really really badly for them, that chance just went up to 100%, Alec thinks. There’s no way they are leaving that penthouse.

They somehow do leave the penthouse, but only because one of the vampires has the wisdom to avoid further breaking of the Accords over a stupid mundane that turned out to really not know anything of value. Camille escaped, and Alec knows this is going to come back to bite them, him in particular, in the ass. Camille has been getting more unhinged and power-high lately, setting up dens of subjugates and acolytes all over the city, acting like the whole world is her personal blood bag. She also has her eye out for the Mortal Cup, which was why she had Simon abducted in the first place, and their only luck is that Clary genuinely has no idea where her mother stashed the damned thing.

He still doesn’t know why he got so immeasurably angry at Jace, enough to throw a fit and go at his parabatai’s throat right there on the roof of the Hotel DuMort. In hindsight, he feels embarrassed and he regrets fighting with Jace and telling him all those words which he would give anything to be able to take back… and in front of the new girl and her mundane boyfriend.  Jace was under a lot of stress, trying to keep everyone alive and prevent the whole vampire situation from escalating into open war. And sure, he was blinded by whatever he is feeling for Clary these days. Alec feels like he tarnished their bond by questioning Jace and forcing him to look at a reality that should not have come between them like a double sided blade. On one side, he told Jace that he expects to be trusted without question and deferred to as the older one and as the appointed leader. On the other side, what he did not say cut deeper than whatever did end up said - again, in hindsight, his unspoken “I go along with all this because I love you” must have made Jace feel like a child being spoken down to, and ultimately cheapened the bond they share. He doesn’t know why he is like this lately. So resentful and hostile, especially to Jace. It must be the arrival of Clary and the feelings of utter jealousy and envy she stirs up in Alec. It’s not fair. He and Jace grew up together, killed together, bled together, patched each other up so many times after missions, and then this… this girl comes along and just like that, Jace no longer sees reason or hears strategic advice from people who love him and who did not betray him. At this rate, Jace is either going to end up getting killed or he’s going to get them all killed. Alec doesn’t see that the resentment he allows to brew inside him is poisoning him. These days, he feels like it’s him, alone, against the rest of the world, and no one has the time or understanding for what he is going through. At times, he turns his resentment toward himself - after all, he was stupid to think Jace will want to stick around for life. Parabatai or not, no one but Alec takes the bond seriously. It’s there to give two people a little extra edge in battle, but that’s where the whole organic part of the bond stops. The rest is up to the people involved - some are closer and like each other, others are detached and can’t wait to put physical and emotional distance between them and the one on the other side of the bond.  While Alec thinks Jace might be in danger of bringing harm to himself or to others around him, he doesn’t see that his constant focus on the dark thoughts tormenting him relentlessly makes him the weakest link in their group. It all comes to a head at the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s loft, where they find themselves after the search for Clary’s lost memories has them facing an inevitable encounter with a higher demon. There’s a complicated summoning ritual involved and Alec knows everything is going to hell in a handbasket the moment his hand slips into Jace as they all gather in a closed circle to summon the keeper of Clary’s precious lost memories. The demon demands a price in exchange for the memories. They each have to relinquish a memory of the one they love the most. Alec feels his palms become sweaty the moment Magnus Bane announces what is demanded of them. He looks around in disbelief, no one is finding this as violating as he does. But then again, no one is hiding a terrible secret like he is. Clary’s memory is of her mother; Izzy’s is of him and before he can break the circle, the column of black smoke pries a memory of Jace out of him, letting it float in the middle of their circle before swallowing it. “No. That’s not true. The demon deceived me.” Alec says, panicked and completely succumbing to his greatest fear coming true. He’s been exposed in the most undoubtable way. “Do not, under any circumstance, break the circle.” Magnus shouts from across the pentagram, but it’s too late, Alec’s fear and shame win over him and he breaks the connection, ready to run away. But once the

circle has been broken, the demon’s power is no longer contained and black tendrils of smoke reach out to grab Alec and drag him to the lower levels of Edom where the demon reigns. Without hesitation, Jace gets between the demonic arms and Alec, pushing his parabatai out of harm’s way and getting caught instead. Alec watches, paralysed with fear, as Jace gets slowly pulled into the demon realm, and he would like to act, but he’s frozen in place and feels like his soul has already severed its connection to his body and is watching powerlessly from a distance. Jace is as good as lost to them, to him, since Clary needs the memories more than she needs any of them. He watches, amazed, as Clary activates her seraph blade and stabs at the demon with a determination he never thought her capable of. The demon dissipates and as it does, it releases Jace, throwing him down against the marble floor. Moments pass, and no one dares to move. Clary is crying. She asks Magnus if Jace will be alright, and Magnus makes a smartass remark. “Don’t… Don’t talk like that about him.” Alec says, finally snapping out of his petrified state and kneeling next to Jace, together with Izzy, helping her turn him on his back. Long moments of uncertainty pass, and Alec thinks the worst. His guilt and shame got his parabatai killed. He does not deserve to be alive, his shame and cowardice cost the person he loves best in the whole world his life. Jace wakes up with a cough and he sits up, looking around in confusion. It is clear he did not expect to survive this. Alec moves away, fleeing to the adjacent room, figuring Jace will not want to lay eyes on him after he nearly got Jace killed. Clary and Izzy are helping Jace anyway, he’s not needed. “You know, it’s alright to feel the way you do,” Magnus says, walking past him. Alec leaves the loft on his own, returning to the Institute and tackling the paperwork that awaits him. They’ve done a lot of unauthorised things and the Clave will want answers, but right now, he would rather be interrogated by all the Silent Brothers and the Inquisitor than deal with Jace, Clary and his sister.

“Alec, you can’t continue like this. You need to talk to Jace.” Izzy says. “Jace and I are fine, just under pressure. Valentine is back. War is imminent.”  Alec replies, trying to appear distant and sombre. “You are a fool and a coward, Alec. I look up to you, you’re the best older brother a girl could wish for, but you’re letting your hangups cloud your judgement and you’re screwing your life up. And not even just yours. You’re hurting people you claim to love. He’s your parabatai, he deserves better.” Izzy says, walking away without waiting for a reaction.

Alec is left alone in his office, unable to hold back the tears now running freely down his cheeks.

He catches up to Jace on the plexiglas walkway which leads away from the war room to the training area. “Jace… I… I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened at Magnus Bane’s. I thought…” “Why did you panic so much?” Jace stops and says, turning to look at Alec and giving him his entire attention. “Because I… of what it looked like! Like… I didn’t want the others to know and think… that I love you.” “But I love you too. Surely, it should feel comforting, not upsetting?” Jace answers. There it is. The letdown. Alec feels his heart shrivel up and die inside his chest. Of course Jace loves him, but not in the same way. Jace is not misshapen and corrupt like him.

“Yeah. That was stupid of me.” Alec says. His face muscles hurt this time, as he tries to compose them in something that looks convincingly like a smile. “Alec, stop.” Jace says, his voice still soft, but with an edge of worry in it. “Don’t do that. I love you, is that nothing to you?” How do you fight the future if the one person who needs to hear you doesn’t listen? Jace can see the rift gaping between Alec and him and it made him quickly reassess his priorities. Preventing a war is urgent, but the parabatai bond takes precedence over that, hands down. Alec freezes and tries to swallow, only to find out his throat is closed and dry. “Why are you torturing us both? I had my suspicions before, but after what happened at Magnus Bane’s house, I know for sure you feel the same about me as I do about you. Am I really wrong here?” Jace continues. Alec makes a small, pitiful sound in the back of his throat when he tries to speak, and when that doesn’t work, he quickly shakes his head no. “But… Clary?” He manages, after a while. “Clary reminds me of me, a long time ago, and how scared I was after watching my father die and not knowing what the future held, or if I could make any decision that wouldn’t be a complete fuck-up. Luckily, I met your family, and you, and you took me in and treated me like one of your own. It was good to not be alone. To have a family and help learning to fit in. Although I must say, even at ten years of age, I had more common sense and self-preservation than Clary does now.”

Alec nods fondly. “You did.” He agrees.

“I fully intend to help her find her way through our world and get her mom back, maybe even avert a fucking war. But no one, no one ever can replace you in my soul or my heart.” Jace says. “And just so you don’t write my big words off as casual parabatai stuff…” Alec forgets he wants to ask how that sentence ends, because what he’s now feeling is intoxicating and overpowering. Jace walked into his personal space and glued himself flush against him before standing on tiptoes and kissing him. Not invading, asking gently to be allowed close, but again having the bigger pair. It’s not like Alec imagined kissing would be - wet, squelchy, tolerable at best - at least the first few times. Jace’s lips are pillowy and smooth, warm, silky-feeling, yet firm and just that simple touch to his own lips feels so right to Alec. It’s not so much a kiss as it is a caress at first, but then it progresses to more when Jace nips at his lower lip and Alec lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. His arms respond before he can figure out rationally what to do, and while they are standing in one of the most public and visible places in the whole Institute, Alec could not care less if he tried. He wraps Jace in his arms and pulls him close, shyly kissing back. It’s his first kiss and he wants to do well. “Alec…” Jace pulls away for a bit, looking fondly at his parabatai. “This is not something you need to do well in. Focus on unwinding so you can enjoy it. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Alec nods, a bit amazed and still very grateful that his parabatai caught his unhealthy train of thought and addressed it. He then lowers his lips to Jace’s, which are a dark, inviting pink, supple and glistening, and now, Alec discovers, taste faintly like marshmallows, one of Jace’s favourite daytime treats.

Still, he immediately and completely surrenders control over the kiss when Jace deepens it, and he can’t help the little mewl escaping him when Jace’s tongue chases his and stakes its claim. The longer the kiss lasts, the more of his anxiety melts away. It actually feels tangibly good to be wanted like this, and it turns out he wasn’t as stupid as he thought he was to wish for this in his life. Especially if Jace is the one leading him down this particular road. It’s as easy as sparring, but infinitely better feeling, and Alec quickly figures out how to keep up with and respond to Jace. For one perfect moment, the world around them is blurry and far away, and Alec suspends his awareness of their Shadowhunter life, of where they are and what they do.

“You and I will need to resume this somewhere safe,” Jace says, pulling away and masking his arousal with an angry expression. He heard Maryse approaching way before Alec did. There’s that split second where Alec thinks “all this is a lie, he’s playing with you”, but then it dawns on him that Jace has been doing nothing but protecting him while he was here sulking about Jace also being nice to the new girl. Jace jumped between him and the memory demon after his huge fuck-up, without a single thought for his own wellbeing. He tends to the bond where Alec intentionally neglects it. He now jumped ten feet away from him so that his mom wouldn’t see him kissing his parabatai and send him to be executed.

“Mother. Jace and I were just talking about our last mission and filing our finds in a report to the Clave.” Alec says, his year-long honed survival instinct kicking in and allowing him to act casual and subdued, the way Maryse is used to him being. “That’s not a priority right now.” Maryse says, huffing in annoyance. “We have to lay low for a moment, not draw attention to this Institute, or we’ll wind up with the Inquisitor here when we least expect it. I need you two to stay on the girl’s tracks and find out where her mother stashed the Mortal Cup.” “We don’t even know for sure if Jocelyn hid the Cup or if Valentine was after her for something else.” Jace points out.

“No, it was the Cup.” Maryse says. “How do you know?” Alec asks, before he can censor himself. “I just know, Alec. Don’t ever question me again.” Maryse says, looking at Alec with disdain. Her and Robert’s past in the Circle may surface at some point, but she sure as hell is not going to volunteer that information - much less to her useless son. She then turns to Jace. “Jace, remember. Whatever it takes. Get this mission done. Find what Clary knows and make sense of it before she does.” Jace nods and smiles, a small reaction he developed as a handy response to Maryse. She thinks he is complying and on her team, he successfully masks his utter disgust at her leadership and parenting methods.

This was the longest day in Alec’s life, or at least it felt like it. He’s finally back in his room, alone, but he cannot silence the cacophony of voices in his head - voices which point out all the things which are going to shit in the most serious of ways. This is not “we’ll get Mother screaming at all three of us for a couple minutes” bad, this is “the Clave will execute us or derune us and sic every demon in New York on us” bad. He has no idea how he is holding it together, it must be because his mind prioritises worrying and also pencils time to worry in the future, making sure it and Alec himself make it into that future one way or another so that the future worrying can take place. In the midst of his racing, loud and dark thoughts, he almost forgot the conversation Jace and him had above the war room. The bond is muted, as usual. Jace is much better at keeping him out than the other way around. But a sense of trepidation and nerves still soaks the invisible threads connecting them.

He is about to switch off the light for the night when Jace walks into his room and gets into his bed. “You are making yourself sick, I could feel you overthinking from way up in the bell tower.” Jace says, making himself comfortable against Alec’s side. “I came to help. I’m not sleeping until you do.” Alec smiles and switches off the light. “I meant everything I said earlier today.” Jace whispers. “I was so scared you might deny it all and tell me to fuck off.” “But I love you too, Jace. Why would I do that?” “Overinflated sense of duty? Fear of Maryse?” “Look. It’s true. I do like having clear rules to follow. And I do fear my mom. But you are where I draw the line at. No one gets to you while I’m around.” Jace stays quiet, his silence expressing the thought they are both having right now. Alec nearly let a demon from the depths of Edom drag Jace back there because he didn’t want anyone to know he loves his parabatai. “I’m sorry. Fear and shame took over me.” Alec says. “And I understand if it made you think less of me. I was raised to be brave. But so much was and still is at stake.” “Which is why we need to be able to trust each other. And know that everything we do is from a place of wanting to protect each other. Also, it will please you to learn the parabatai curse is a big fat smelly piece of Clave propaganda. I couldn’t help but see Magnus reference it in a letter he was writing.” Jace says, and Alec can picture the cheeky smile accompanying those words. “You peeped in the High Warlock’s correspondence? Bad Jace.” “I didn’t get caught, it’s fine. And it was right there. In a closed room, on the way to the loo.” Jace offers. “You are… no words. Demons work hard, but you work harder. You want to see me with white hair in my twenties.” Alec says, but there is no bite to his words. “Magnus would have made you into shoes if he had found you snooping through his stuff.” “But he didn’t. And I have a feeling he may have casually and strategically left that letter on his desk.” “You don’t know that. But, it doesn't matter now, like you said, you didn’t get caught.” Alec points out. “You promised me sleep.” “I did,” Jace says, giddiness laced in his voice. “Can I touch you?” “Since when do you need permi- …” Alec says, but the realisation dawns on him as he speaks. “Oooooh. Like that. Yes. So much yes, Jace. You can do what you like with me. As long as you touch me.” “I value the trust you have in me, but I don’t want to rush. You got so fucking beautiful since we got done with puberty. I just wanna unpack you like a present and savour every inch of you.”

“Really? You think I’m beautiful?” Alec asks, blushing intensely in the dark and thinking of all the times when his shirt was soaked through and through from being in the gym with Jace for hours, and while Jace is always quick to shed as many clothes as the social setting allows, Alec never dares to do the same. Because his mother told him early on that no one wants to see a hairy, sweaty Nephilim.

“The most.” Jace says, shifting around in the dark so he can bring his lips to his parabatai’s and kiss him. “I’m so weak for how strong and lean you got, and you have no idea how hard it is to have to hunt with you and go on missions together and not look as thirsty as I feel.” With those words, he sneaks his hand under the blanket, opening the lace of Alec’s sleeping pants and slowly slipping his fingers under the hem, between the  fabric and the skin. Alec’s lower abs contract with his unmasked excitement.

“Oh fuck, yes.” Alec whispers, closing his eyes, then opening them anew. He doesn’t want to miss any of this. Jace sighs in contentment, finally being allowed to run his hands on Alec’s skin, map all the forbidden parts of him and make them his - all of it is a bliss he never thought he’d get to taste in this life. He then uses both hands under the blanket to pull his parabatai’s pants off. Alec didn’t wear underwear to bed this time, which makes Jace raise an eyebrow. Alec usually does wear underwear to bed, self-conscious about any stains and visible wet spots that might dry visible on the outer layer of the pants. This time, Jace doesn’t mention it, not wanting Alec to get self-conscious and second guess himself. Instead, he licks his hand before lying back down next to Alec, on his side, wrapping the hand he just made wet around Alec’s cock, eliciting a harsh gasp from his parabatai. “Weird?” Jace checks. “No, just… fucking finally.” Alec says, grinning sheepishly, but then closing his eyes right after, as though to hide his excitement. But Jace is not here to judge. He starts stroking Alec like he would stroke himself, but now he has the added pleasure of watching the effects of his touches translated into expressions on Alec’s features and it’s the most heavenly thing he’s seen. He never wants to stop being the cause of such rapt looks on Alec’s face. “You have such a gorgeous cock, Alec. You got so big, I think as big as me.” Jace comments, pressing his thumb on the underside of the tip, then using it to coax out the droplet of precome clinging to the slit. “Nah, no one’s cock is as big as yours.” Alec says, thinking of the one time he caught a glimpse of Jace in the showers. His mind was fried for weeks after, and then every time his mind replayed the scene. “...and you taste so good to me, too.” Jace adds, bringing his hand to his lips and lapping up the bit of fluid. “Oh fuck, I might not survive sex.” Alec says, watching Jace’s tongue dart out to taste him like… like it’s not the hottest thing ever and like it won't make his mind flatline like it just did.

Jace smiles lovingly. He won’t judge - his goal is, after all, to fry Alec’s brain in the best of ways and have him coming back to him for more over and over. “I changed my mind. Fuck slow.” Jace whispers, more for himself than for Alec, throwing the blanket off of them and to the side. Under the blanket, Alec is naked from the waist down, and Jace is still dressed. Jace licks his lips, thinking he planned this the wrong way from the start. He expected to have better control of himself, but Alec is like a drug. “Off with the shirt.” He says, removing his own and pushing Alec’s up while raking his fingers up his chest, letting them catch in the wiry hairs covering Alec’s pecs. He almost forgets the bottle of lube he brought in his pocket, so distracted by how turned on he is by Alec. “Do we have to go slow?” Alec asks. “I want to touch you too.” “Mmm that can be arranged,” Jace says and leans down, resting his hips on top of Alec’s and pressing down. “Take off my pants.” He adds, taking out the little tube of lube he brought along and placing it close by. Alec still blushes when he sees the tube, but his eyes darken at once with anticipation and unguarded desire. He does exactly as Jace asked him, sliding his hands down Jace’s back, until his fingers can slip under the hem of the pants and pull it down over Jace’s ass. Since he needs more reach, he opens his legs and sits up a bit, guiding the pants lower as Jace props his knees onto the bed. Jace shimmies out of the pants and comes to rest flush against Alec, looking down at their cocks, pressed close together. There’s a lot of things he needs to try, but there will be so many other times, he thinks, as he kisses his way down Alec’s front until he can take a lick of the underside of Alec’s dick, earning himself a small overwhelmed sound.

Alec grips the headboard above him, not wanting to impose on Jace by touching his hair like his first instinct was. Jace gives him a knowing look - one of these days, he will have to teach his parabatai that his desires weigh just as much as anyone else’s and he’s allowed to grab, touch, feel, take, be possessive. But now he’s going to make Alec fall apart. When he wraps his mouth around Alec’s now impossibly hard and hot cock, he finds more of his flavour hitting his tongue and he moans in appreciation. It’s also a bit overwhelming and a bit of a stretch and Jace loves the challenge. He’s never had a cock in his mouth before, but he intends to make the best of it, as with everything he applies himself to. With Alec, he loves the weight on his tongue, the way he feels full but also in control of Alec’s pleasure. Jace starts to move, to actually suck Alec’s cock and see what reactions he can coax, how gone he can get Alec to be. When Alec thrashes on the bed and begs him not to stop, he manages to smile around his mouthful and redouble his efforts. At some point, Alec just starts to thrust into Jace’s mouth, which tightens and relaxes against his shaft. Whenever Jace moves up and only has the tip in his mouth, he swirls his tongue around it and delves it into the slit, actually sucking, and Alec knows he will soon come like this. Jace’s hands caress the inside of Alec’s thighs, feeling and soothing the little nervous twitches in the muscles beneath the skin. Soon, Alec relaxes enough to rest his legs on the sheets - that’s Jace’s cue to reach for the tube of lube and coat his fingers, bringing them to caress across Alec’s entrance.

Jace had the sense to warm the lube up a bit before touching Alec with it, so the added touch is met with a little more than a muted gasp. He would stop to ask if it was too sudden, but that would mean letting go of Alec’s cock. Alec himself is caught between the hot heaven of Jace’s mouth and the by now pleasant sensation of being stretched and open gently. He wants more of the mouth and more of the fingers, so his thrusts get more urgent and gain in amplitude. “Please… I’m going to come…” Alec pleads at some point. Jace found a spot inside him, which sends white-hot pleasure all through him every time it’s rubbed over, and it feels as though it’s the only thing which keeps Alec being possibly knocked unconscious by the strongest orgasm he’s ever had. Jace pulls back and kneels up, looking at Alec’s cock, now glistening wet and twitching, dribbling precome into the hairs on Alec’s lower belly. He cannot help but keep moving his fingers slowly inside Alec, the sensation delicious even for him. Being inside his parabatai might be what finally breaks his tight grip on his own self-control. And while there’s nothing more terrifying to Jace than losing control, he looks forward to it now, knowing he’s experiencing it with the only person in the world who makes him feel safe. But he pulled back too late, a fraction of a second too late, and he gets to watch as Alec shivers and pants through a full-body, long and hard release, with Jace’s fingers buried in his ass and his cock untouched. Jace is about to say something, he is not sure yet what exactly, but Alec cuts him off: “I want you to come inside me. Please. I want to feel you so badly. I’ve waited so long. Please, Jace. I’ve been ready for so long.” Jace opens his mouth and closes it again, at a loss for words. But, like in the past, he can show Alec how he feels. First though, he uses his discarded shirt to clean Alec’s lower belly and he pulls Alec’s hips up on his lap, lining himself up and spreading lube on his engorged cock before pushing in, watching Alec’s face for reactions. The way his parabatai’s chest is heaving and the sheen of sweat on Alec’s skin make him look like a vision, and Jace is weak, weak, weak. When he bottoms out, he closes his eyes, committing the moment and what it feels like to memory as best as he can. Alec is now his, shaped to fit him, and there’s a deeper, more daunting feeling, vast as the ocean, and Jace cannot tell if it’s because of him having always been a motherless stray, if it’s just the way being joined to his parabatai feels like or both. It’s an overwhelming, almost crushing feeling, but he rides it, unafraid of going deeper within himself, knowing Alec is there, warm and welcoming, anchoring him to the here and now. He starts to move, setting a hypnotic rhythm to his movements, watching Alec arch off the bed, his hips still in Jace’s lap and only his head and tops of his shoulders still on the bed. Instinctively, he reaches out with one hand, which Alec takes and holds on to steady himself. By now, Alec is hard again and leaking onto his front again. His walls squeeze gown on Jace’s cock, as though unable to get enough of the feeling of being filled over and over. When their eyes meet, Jace knows this is it for him. He pulls Alec up, wrapping his arms around him, holding him close, kissing him and bringing their foreheads together. When he feels he is close, he wraps a hand around Alec’s cock. “Can you come with me?” He asks, his lips moving against the salty, moist skin on the side of Alec’s neck, right across where a vein pulses beneath. “Yes. I’m so close, again.” Alec say breathlessly. “Angels, Jace. You’re everything and more.” Jace feels himself fill up with warmth at Alec saying those words to him now, as a lover, not just as a parabatai. A few more thrusts and he comes inside Alec, feeling as though his entire world was burned down to ashes and rebuilt anew.

Not a second later, Alec follows him into a second orgasm, this time less explosive but longer-lasting, making him flop bonelessly against Jace, not moving to disengage just now. They both wince and squeeze their eyes shut later, when Jace guides Alec back down onto the sheets, which makes him slip out. “Yeah, I hate this part,” Alec sighs. “But having you close and not be a fantasy or a dream is still such a good change from before.” “I don’t even know how I told myself I could live without this closeness. Without you.” Jace sighs back. “I’m going to love you with every beat of my heart. In every way that I can.” “And I’ll be yours for as long as I live.” Alec murmurs back, shifting onto his side so he can prop himself up on one elbow and look at Jace. “Also, my butt will be sore for a while, but it’s like a naughty secret too.” “I’m sorry. I tried to be gentle.” Jace says, smiling apologetically. “You were. But the angels didn’t ration their gifts when they made you. No regrets. I get to benefit from all their blessings.” He silences the rest of Jace’s guilt with a long, sweet kiss, which earns him a pleased sound. Jace is actually delighted, Alec initiated the kiss and no longer seems shy about it. It secretly fills him with pride and contentment to see how right he was - how well he and Alec click together as lovers and as parabatai.

“How about… getting a drink sometime?” Magnus asks, feeling hopeful. The cutie at the other end seemed interested, if a bit shy and surprised to have the attention on him. He has chances, if he plays his cards right. “That’d be… good. Yeah. A drink.” Alec says, keeping the phone trapped between his cheek and his shoulder as he tries to choose between two shirts. One black and with a collar, one also black, but washed out because it’s one of his favourites and he wore it a lot. But which one will Jace like best? “I’m not asking if you are thirsty, I am asking you on a date, Alexander.” “Date? Uh… I… You know what? Thanks, Magnus, but I think my boyfriend would mind.” “Oh.” “Sorry.” “And here I was, thinking there’s a pleasurable side to doing business with Maryse Lightwood this time around.” Alec tosses the shirts on his bed, and the phone on top of them, staring it down, shirtless, as though trying to intimidate Magnus through the phone. Did the High Warlock of Brooklyn just imply he was an extra thrown in to sweeten a deal? Surely not, and Magnus Bane is a more refined man than that. “Oh, and tell Jace I will turn him into a snail and put him in a vivarium in my bedroom if he isn’t excellent to you at all times.” Magnus says, loud enough to be heard even without being on speaker. “Catch you around, Second Hottest Lightwood.” And with that, he ends the call, leaving Alec staring and fuming. Second Hottest Lightwood?! Second?! He then remembers Magnus met Isabelle too and he smiles. That is a title he can live with, after all. The thing he thought of first was much, much worse. Outside, he hears Jace’s footsteps approaching. “Hey Alec, are you ready? What’s taking you so long?” “I can’t find a good top!” Jace slips in, looking like he’s burning to say something. “Here I am! Found me.” “You’ve been dying to say that.” “You walked right into it.” “Admittedly. Which one?” Alec asks, holding up the two shirts. “For the mission, the washed out one, because you love it and you’re comfy in it. For later, I recommend this outfit.” Jace says, reaching into his pocket and placing a small item in Alec’s palm. “What the fuck is this?” “It’s Clary’s gold-threaded Invisibobble. Or the creative man’s cock ring.” Jace says with a wink. “Now let’s go, those demons aren’t going to dispatch themselves.” Alec follows Jace out of his room, having put on the comfy older shirt and shaking his head. If there’s a war coming, he doesn’t think he’ll notice it unfold.

(the end)

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

do i want to know?

For @another-random-stranger

Summary: Yeah, Simon might have had a tiny crush on Raphael, but it was no big deal. Really. He was still able to act normal around the other boy (read: he was able to not turn into a stuttering, blushing mess), so it was all fine. Perfectly fine. It wasn’t as if he loved to watch the way Raphael looked in the late afternoon glow of the Sun, and it wasn’t as if he fantasised about messing up Raphael’s hair because he thought Raphael would look absolutely adorable with his hair down instead of forced upward by hair products. Not at all. -- Or: Simon and Raphael 'hate' each other, then don't (read: they finally get their heads out of their asses and kiss). [Title is from Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys, who play a pivotal role in this fic]

Read on ao3

Simon and Raphael despised each other. It was a fact, like how the sky was blue, grass was green, and how a straw had two holes (okay, maybe that was traversing into controversial territory, but it had two, and he had a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why).

Anyway, Simon and Raphael despised each other, and contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just because Simon was in the music club, and Raphael was in the cooking one. That was where their rivalry had stemmed, sure, but over time, Simon found a myriad of other things to deeply dislike about Raphael Santiago.

For example, the way he could roll his r's, and the way he rolled them whenever he could. Simon could not roll his r's, so understandably, he was jealous. Another thing Raphael could do that Simon couldn't was arch just one of his eyebrows. Whenever someone said something he disagreed with, or was just being irritating, Raphael would slowly raise an eyebrow. Honestly, it was obnoxious.

And totally unfair.

"You're making googly eyes at Raphael again," Clary said, interrupting his train of thought. She wore a teasing smirk. Her school uniform was slightly ruffled, and her hair was even messier than usual. Simon stopped himself from thinking too much about how her face bore the same flush as Jace's, who was manspreading in a chair a few feet away. Honestly, could heterosexuals not control themselves? And why was Jace here, anyway? He was on the football team, not the cooking or music club.

"I'm not," he retorted.

"Please, you so are," she scoffed. "Just go talk to him already. You have an excuse this time. It's a club meeting. Conversations are supposed to happen."

"Not between two enemies, they aren't."

"God, you're so dramatic," Clary complained. "This is high school, not an action movie."

She took him by the shoulders, and began guiding him to where Raphael was conversing with Isabelle. She ignored his desperate whisper-shouts of, 'Clary, please-' and 'Clarissa Fairchild, you demon-', determined in her plan to put Simon through hell.

Raphael ignored them both when they arrived, only looking at them when Izzy paused the conversation to greet them. "Si, Clare, hi!" she said. "Raph and I were just discussing the budgets - well, budget, I guess, since we share a budget and all - of our clubs, and how to increase it."

"That's nice," he said tersely.

Clary nudged him with her elbow. "That's great! I'm sure Simon has some great ideas." She pointedly ignored the death glare he sent her. "By the way, Iz, where did you get that necklace? It's really cute..."

With that, Clary and Isabelle were quickly enamoured with their own, separate conversation, and Simon had just been betrayed by his own best friend. He thought he might scream in frustration. An irritated groan would have to suffice for now, he decided, because Raphael was standing right there, looking frustratingly seductive-vampire-like.

"You sound like a dying chicken," the boy in question drawled.

Simon squawked indignantly. "I- I do not."

Raphael hummed. "If you're done with whatever you're doing, we should talk about the task at hand." He took a sip from his water bottle. "The shared budget of our clubs is depressingly low. Isabelle and Magnus want to figure out a way to increase it. Though just because they want to, doesn't mean they will."

"Wow, okay, that was very pre-teen-emo-phase of you. Did you have an emo phase? Are you currently going through your emo phase? Because I must say, your rings, chains, and that all-black ensemble really do give off that vibe-,"

"Shut up, Lewis."

"Riiight, yeah, cause you want to focus on how to increase our budget. Tell me, are you so focused on this because of Izzy? And why do you call her 'Isabelle', anyway? Is this like how Magnus calls Alec 'Alexander' because of the romantic connotations? Cause if it is that, then boy, do I have news for you-,"

Ah. There was that eyebrow raise.

"Simon. I'm gay."

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that certainly was not what he'd expected.

"Woahh," he said, ever so eloquently. "Wow! Aha, same. Well, actually I'm bi, but I'm one of those people who uses 'gay' as a catch-all term mostly but of course, not everyone does that, but I do, and I still acknowledge that bi and gay are different things because obviously bisexuality isn't being half gay and half strai-,"

"I get it," Raphael cut in. Oh, thank god. "Quit rambling."

"Yessir," he chirped.

Raphael smirked. "Now, about the budget?"

----

Music Club + Cooking Club Event!!

*Izzy.L added Super Simon, Clary effing F, Alec.L, Raphael, Magnus the love magnet, Maia ig??, Meliorn, and Jace.L-H to the group chat*

Izzy.L: Hi everyone! As you can see from the title of this group chat, we (the cooking club and the music club) have been so considerately appointed to organise a school event for Valentine’s day. Before you ask, I know my mom is the headmistress, but there is no way I can talk us out of this. I’ve already tried. Izzy.L: Anyway, there isn’t actually a guideline for what we’re supposed to do, so ideas are very welcome. I was thinking of a music festival combined with a bake sale, where the music club would perform, and the cooking club could bake different treats and sell them.

Super Simon: huh Super Simon: oh nice

Alec.L: Why is Jace here? He's not in any of these clubs, he's on the football team.

Izzy.L: He's here bc I want him here

Alec.L: Lmao okay then

Magnus the love magnet: helloooo

Maia ig??: hi!

Izzy.L: hi babeee

Meliorn: hey

Super Simon: @Clary effing F OI GET UR ASS IN HERE

Clary effing F: jfc im here what do u want Clary effing F: hii u guys Clary effing F: what's this gc for?

Alec.L: Scroll up.

Clary effing F: ohh yeah that

Magnus the love magnet: i get the sense you're not too happy about it?

Clary effing f: eh. i mean i love doing this for the school and the students here bc yk, but the principal is making us do this why ? it's not like we're the most well funded clubs out there!

Meliorn: fr fr

Jace.L-H: so true bestie

Maia ig??: HE DOESN'T EVEN GO HERE 🙄🙄✋ Maia ig??: that was a mean girls reference btw Maia ig??: shit did i kill the chat Maia ig??: shit Maia ig??: GUYS.

Super Simon: SORRY I WAS LAUGHING MY ASS OFF HAHAHAHA

Izzy.L: 10 bucks says that Alec was busy googling that reference

Meliorn: probably lmao

Alec.L: We should focus.

Raphael: we should.

Super Simon: oh hey raphael

Raphael: hi.

Izzy.L: FOCUS

Maia ig??: listen to my girlfriend or i beat ur ass

Clary effing F: aww u two r rlly cute <3

Izzy.L: (ty clary ily mwah) Izzy.L: anyway. We should organise the event! Any ideas? Izzy.L: y'all better have ideas 🙂🔪

Meliorn: YES MA'AM WE HAVE IDEAS PLS PUT THE KNIFE DOWN PLS

Super Simon: you get used to it eventually, mel, dw 😔👊

Meliorn: … Meliorn: mel?

Super Simon: idk why i said that sry 😭

Magnus the love magnet: ‘MEL’ LMFAOOO

----

Eventually, the group decided on going with Izzy's initial idea. They would have a bake sale, the profits going to charity, and the music club would perform a series of songs. Magnus had suggested setting up typical carnival games as well, like darts and the hoop toss.

It was currently January 16th, meaning that they had roughly 4 weeks to prepare until Valentine's day. Isabelle said they had to 'divide and conquer', meaning that they would split off into groups and sort out different parts of the event. They had used the sacred online spinning wheel, but Simon swore Isabelle had rigged it so her, Maia, and Clary would be in a group.

Alec, Magnus, and Meliorn were also in a group, because the three of them had 'relationship privileges' since they were all dating.

And of course, Simon had been left with Raphael. Even Meliorn would have been better, despite how he was still embarrassed about the 'Mel' incident a few days ago, but nooo - he had to be with Raphael.

Currently, he was standing outside the Creative Arts building in his school. He was supposed to meet Raphael here to sort out things concerning the event. Clary had driven him, but they split when she ran off to find the rest of her group.

"Have fun with Raphael, Simon!" she had chirped, blowing him a kiss.

Right on cue, a text from Raphael pinged through in his phone.

Raphael: where are you?

Simon: outside

Raphael: i'm in music room 8 Raphael: come here

Simon: alr be there in a sec

Simon pocketed his phone, and walked into the labyrinth that was Idris High's Creative Arts building. He had been going here for years now, and the CA area was one of the places he frequented the most, yet he still had to pause and think about where his destination was.

"That took forever," Raphael drawled once Simon entered the room.

He shut the door, and put his guitar and bag down. "Okay, in my defence, this place is practically a maze. It's like they want students to get lost and be late for class, because there is virtually no other reason to design a building like thi- oh my God you baked heart shaped cookies?"

On the table were, indeed, several heart shaped cookies. And they were adorable. They even had little patterns on them, like stripes or polka dots. They were mainly decorated in pink or red icing, although white or blue could also be spotted in small quantities.

Raphael sighed. "Yes, Simon, they are heart shaped cookies. The theme is Valentine's, so I wouldn't have stars now, would I?"

"I know," he stressed. "But they're so cute!"

"I was hoping, uh, you'd try some of them to see if they're okay. If they're too sweet or not sweet enough, something like that."

"Free food? I'd never pass on that." Simon reached for a cookie, and put the entire thing in his mouth all in one go. It tasted heavenly. He hoped the blissful noise he made successfully communicated that.

"God, Raph, these taste amazing," he said, the nickname slipping unnoticed.

"No criticism?"

He paused to think. "Well, I guess the icing on the top is a little hard to bite into? But other than that, nothing."

"Yeah, I thought so," Raphael exhaled. "Sadly, the ingredients I used at home were from the nearby convenience store, so they weren't the best."

"Hey, man," Simon said. "Don't sound so disappointed in yourself, geez. These are still really good. Gordon Ramsey would be blown away."

A beat of silence.

Then:

"...Thank you, Simon."

"No probs, Raph. You better let me try anything else you make, though."

----

Simon was getting frustrated as he scrolled through the lyrics of countless love songs. Somehow, they all managed to be about sex, yet were still deemed as 'love songs'. Honestly, it was ridiculous how people thought that sex always equaled love.

"Stupid sex songs," he muttered.

He thought he had been quiet, but based on the questioning (and slightly judgemental, but he was choosing to ignore that) look Raphael gave him, he was wrong. Simon gave him a look back, like, 'Ask me, I dare you.'

"Stupid sex songs?" Raphael finally enquired, putting away his notebook. He had been writing down ways to improve his recipes, after receiving criticism from Simon on the cakepops and waffles he had also pre made. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," he quipped. "But I'm gonna tell you anyway. So, you know how everyone thinks sex always means love? I mean, sure, people can have sex if they love each other, but it isn't necessary, you know? And, uh, I'm trying to find a love song to perform at the event, buuut all of the ones I've been able to find so far at least have sexual implications. Oh, and there's no way I'm performing some cheesy song from the 80's, although that might genuinely be my only option now."

"I can help you find a song," Raphael offered. "Arctic Monkeys have a few romance-based songs."

"You listen to Arctic Monkeys too?" Simon asked.

He nodded.

"No way, same. Wait, if we're doing an Arctic Monkeys song, we should totally do 'The Bakery'."

"'The Bakery?' A bit depressing, don't you think?" Raphael paused to rummage around in his bag, pulling his phone out. He typed something, presumably into the search bar of google, because Simon didn't think he was bitchy enough to cut their conversation to respond to a text.

"Yeah, the lyrics are literally about how the narrator sees girls at concerts who he knows wouldn't give a shit about him if not for his band," he confirmed.

Simon whistled appraisingly. "Look at you, an English major, music critic, and top notch chef."

Raphael glared. "Just because we have the same music taste does not mean we're best friends all of a sudden."

"Oh, I think it does," Simon countered. "I swear, no one has the same music taste as me, Clary's more of a Taylor Swift person. You should see how passionate gets when talking about Taylor. All other music is trash, apparently."

"Guess you could say she's so casually cruel in the name of being honest." Raphael looked up at the laugh Simon let out. "What? Taylor Swift's cool."

Simon grinned. "Well, well, Raphael Santiago," he teased. "I am learning more about you every day."

And, to be honest, he didn't completely hate this new Raphael he was finding out about.

--

Simon fiddled with his pencil as he glared at his maths homework. Maybe if he scowled at it long enough, it would disappear and free him from this pain and suffering. Clary was laying on his bed beside him, her sketchbook and other art supplies in front of her. She was sketching him, and he was doing his best to stay still, as much as he wanted to dramatically bury his head in his pillow. Even if he did do that, the drawing would probably end up great, anyway. His best friend was amazing like that.

Suddenly, A notification sounded from his phone, and he scrambled to check it. Anything to divert himself from the loathsome maths, after all.

The text ended up being from Raphael. It was blunt and to the point, as per his style. Simon was used to it by now, seeing as the two of them had been texting fairly frequently over the last couple of weeks. Surprisingly, he had grown to enjoy the other boy’s sarcastic comments. He could only hope that Raphael thought the same.

Raphael: you should do 'Do I Wanna Know' for the event

Super Simon: a bit depressing, don't you think?

Raphael: shush Raphael: don’t mock me Raphael: it was just a suggestion

Super Simon: a good suggestion that i haven't rejected yet Super Simon: and i wasn’t mocking you chill 🙄

Raphael: k, geez. Raphael: i wonder if you’ll be able to see your brain if you roll your eyes far back enough Raphael: oh wait you don’t have a brain

Simon couldn’t help but laugh, earning a look from Clary.

“Who’re you texting?” she prodded, trying to get a peek of his phone. Simon yanked it away from her reach.

“Just Raphael,” he replied nonchalantly. “Ooh, just Raphael, huh?” she teased. “And tell me, why is Raphael making you laugh like that? Are you sure you guys aren’t in looove?”

“Clary, we hated each other up until 2 weeks ago.”

“The line between hate and love is very, very thin, my friend. Maybe all this time you’ve wanted to punch him, you’ve actually wanted to punch him on the lips. With your lips-” Her words ended in a shriek of laughter when he threw a pillow at her, hitting her square in the face.

Soon, they were both giggling madly as they attacked each other with pillows and blankets. They'd both be exhausted from their laughing afterwards, but at least he wouldn't have to do his homework anymore.

----

“Okay!” Simon announced. “This is my garage, I guess.” He lifted up the bottom of the garage door; it should have gone up the rest of the way on its own, but apparently it didn’t want to today. Right when he had a guest.

“Uh, sorry, let me just-” he fumbled with the metal gate, and ended up having to push it, resulting in a very awkward silence as he jumped to push it all the way up. “Finally,” he grumbled. He turned back to look at Raphael, and blushed slightly when he noticed the smile on the other boy’s face.

“This!” Simon said, walking in. “Is my sacred garage, where I am able to blast music as loud as I can without my mom yelling at me.”

“Charming,” Raphael quipped, although strangely, he sounded less sarcastic than usual.

Simon decided not to think about it any further, because a) he did not have the brain cells for it right now, and b) once he started thinking, he’d never be able to stop - especially when it came to Raphael.

Yeah, Simon might have had a tiny crush on Raphael, but it was no big deal. Really. He was still able to act normal around the other boy (read: he was able to not turn into a stuttering, blushing mess), so it was all fine. Perfectly fine.

It wasn’t as if he loved to watch the way Raphael looked in the late afternoon glow of the Sun, and it wasn’t as if he fantasised about messing up Raphael’s hair because he thought Raphael would look absolutely adorable with his hair down instead of forced upward by hair products.

Not at all.

“Why did you invite me here again, Lewis?”

Oh, yeah, and even if his crush had been anything more than a brief infatuation (which it wasn’t), there was no way Raphael would ever like him back. His previous question pretty much confirmed that.

It was okay, though. Simon had crushed on a long list of people who hadn’t liked him back. He guessed it would be the same with Raphael.

“I gave you advice on your cookies and snacks, so I figured you could give me advice on my music,” he replied. I just wanted to spend time with you, because I’m scared that once the event is over, we’ll go back to ignoring each other again.

“I have a feeling there will be great room for improvement.”

“Ouch. What happened to the Arctic Monkeys fan solidarity we had 2 weeks ago?”

“Never existed. Terribly sorry to crush your dreams, Simon.”

“Okay, first of all, I do not dream of you,” he argued. “Second of all, we should get started. Oh, and third of all, I’m gonna sing ‘Do I Want to Know?’ first.”

“I’m glad to see you accepted my suggestion.”

“Only for you, Raph,” he cooed, blowing a kiss. He only realised what he’d done too late.

“I- I’m so sorry, I have no idea why I did that.” He cringed.

Raphael seemed to be recovering himself. If he didn’t know better, Simon would say that Raphael was blushing.

“I-it’s fine, Lewis,” he cleared his throat. “Just sing already.”

Simon complied, picking up his guitar as well as the microphone and the microphone stand. He rifled through a folder of sheet music, eventually brandishing the notes for his chosen song.

"Get ready to be blown away by my enchanting voice, Raphael Santiago," he stated dramatically, and began playing the opening notes.

He didn't need the lyrics; he had practised this song so often, trying to perfect his performance in order to impress Raphael, that he knew the words off by heart now.

As he sang, he closed his eyes. He decided to just do his best, and stop worrying about what Raphael would think, because he'd definitely mess up that way. Nevertheless, his heart was beating fast, nerves coiled around his throat.

Simon ended the song at last, opening his eyes. Tentatively, he smiled at Raphael, who was watching him intently. Suddenly, he got up and walked up to Simon, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I can’t tell if that look on your face is bad or good, b-” he was promptly cut off by Raphael pressing their lips together, and-

Oh.

Oh.

That felt good. Raphael’s lips were smooth - that was the first thing Simon took note of. They were blissfully smooth.

Raphael smelled good, too. His scent was a mixture of fabric softener and expensive smelling cologne, which was obnoxious but at the same time undeniably attractive. Kissing him was probably one of the best things ever, and-

Simon nearly whined at the loss of Raphael’s presence as the other boy pulled away.

“I- I shouldn’t have done that,” Raphael said.

“What?”

“I should go.”

“No, Raph, wait-,”

But it was too late. Raphael had walked out the garage, not even bothering to take his notebook with him.

Simon missed him already.

----

Simon hadn’t talked to Raphael in 9 days.

It was killing him.

Not literally, although the Raphael Santiago-sized hole in his heart made him feel like he really was about to die sometimes.

He had texted the other boy 20 times in total. When it became clear Raphael wasn’t going to respond, much less read the messages, he had given up. Of course, that didn’t mean Simon stopped thinking about him entirely - hell no. Clary, Izzy, Alec, and Jace could testify to that.

It was the day of the event, after school. The music and the cooking club had to stay after classes to set everything up; the event was to start at 4pm, which gave them about an hour to sort everything out.

The two clubs were outside in the football field, setting up stands, tuning their instruments, and goofing around with each other. A small stage had been set up, big enough for the music club and their instruments to stand on. Alec was strumming a soft song on his guitar, interrupted every few seconds by Isabelle loudly hitting her drums. She laughed every time Alec glared at her, pretending to be annoyed.

Simon, on the other hand, was watching Raphael plate the last of the cookies he'd made. Neither of them had tried to talk to each other, although every bit of him wanted to go up to Raphael and kiss him. Gently, at first, and then more passionately, because Raphael deserves tenderness and devotion and Simon so desperately wanted to give that to him.

"Simon?"

He turned around to see Clary. She looked even more worried than usual. He had told her about everything that happened with Raphael, and, like the amazing best friend she was, she had offered to 'talk'/yell at the 'pathetic Santiago dude who had hurt her best friend'.

"I'm fine," he assured. "Just thinking about how awkward the rest of the event will be."

"Well, I talked to Magnus," she said. "I can't tell you everything, but let's just say that it'll be better for everyone if you and Raphael just talked it out."

"Clary, you know I've texted him, like, a million times. He doesn't want to talk to me."

"Just give it time, Si," she relented. "Gonna go check on everyone else now. I love you!"

"I love you too!"

----

The field was alight with chatter, friends dragging each other around to the different game stands, stuffing their mouths with sugary snacks. Simon was pretty proud of them all, considering their small numbers. The evening was going great so far, if he didn't count the fact that he and Raphael were still avoiding each other.

Pretty soon, it was time for Simon to go up onstage and sing. They had decided he would do a solo performance - 'Do I Want to Know?', of course. He slung his guitar over his chest, drumming his fingers on it nervously. The buzz of the event had mainly died down by now, and a majority of the crowd was gathered at the foot of the stage. This meant that a lot of people would be watching him. But no pressure, yeah?

Simon cleared his throat as he went up on stage. "So," he began. "This song is actually for someone. I'm not gonna namedrop, because I'm pretty sure they'd kill me, but you know who you are."

With that, he began singing.

The words flowed off his tongue. It was pretty much quiet, although not in a bad way. It was more like the audience was giving him the opportunity to get his message across to that special person. He kept his gaze fixed on the notes, although he didn't actually need them. They were more of a distraction, to keep him from searching for Raphael in the crowd.

It was only when he finished singing did he look up, and see the boy in question looking right at him.

Simon hastily thanked the audience for listening, watching, or something like that, and speed-walked offstage in his hurry to get to Raphael.

Whe he did come face to face with him, however, it was nearly entirely too much. Raphael looked beautiful in the sunset light, his eyes filled with something akin to a nervous hope.

“Hi,” Simon breathed. “I’m guessing you got the message.”

He nodded wordlessly. “I- Simon, I feel the same way…”

“Why am I sensing a ‘but’ in this sentence? If you like me and I like you, what the hell’s the problem?”

“Simon, I’m asexual,” Raphael confessed. “I just- I can’t give you the things you want when it comes to anything further than kissing, and-”

“Raphael, listen to me,” he demanded. “I don’t mind if you’re ace. I care, because it’s a part of you, and I care about you, but I don’t mind if we’ll never have sex. Now, can I please kiss you?”

“Yes,” Raphael all but pleaded. In the end, though, it was Raphael who kissed him. He didn’t care - as long as they could do this, as long as they could kiss, he didn’t give a damn about who initiated it.

This time, when they pulled away, Simon wasn’t as sad, comforted by the knowledge that they’d be able to do this again.

“Simon! Raphael!” someone - several someones - called. The two of them turned around in unison; it was, well, everyone. Clary, Isabelle, Maia, Alec, Magnus, Meliorn, and even Jace.

“Guys!” Isabelle shrieked, engulfing them both in a hug. “Guess what!”

“What?”

“Our budgets! They were increased!” she exclaimed. “My mom just told us a few minutes ago. Oh, guys, this is amazing!”

“It is,” Raphael agreed. Simon nodded along enthusiastically.

“Come on!” Magnus called. “We can have a sleepover at mine!”

Everyone whooped in excitement. Simon grinned at Raphael, holding out his hand. Raphael took it immediately, intertwining their fingers. Together, they walked after the group. Clary would 100% demand details later, but for now, Simon’s universe had narrowed down to where their hands were joined.

Yeah, he thought to himself. This was a great night.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

shattered from the inside (but you put me back together)

For @moonlight-breeze-44 This was written for the SH Rare Pair Exchange as a gift to Em. I had so much fun (for lack of a better word) writing this fic for you and I hope you enjoy the hurt!

Summary: What had happened? Her entire body was throbbing in pain, most of it stinging when she tried to move her neck. When she reached to find the reason for it, she touched soft bandages that wrapped around the column loosely. “You’re with me.” Isabelle recognized the voice immediately and jerked her head a little too fast in the direction it came from. Standing in the doorway with a cup of tea in her hand and a stele in another was Lydia, someone Isabelle hadn’t seen since the day of her brother’s called-off wedding. “Lydia?” Isabelle asked softly, not truly relying on her eyes, ears, or clouded mind to provide her with the truth. “Hello, Isabelle,” she responded just as gently.

Read on ao3

Isabelle wasn’t sure where she was or where exactly she had come from.

She had a fight with Alec, that much was clear in her otherwise clouded head. She had to get out of the Institute before she did something stupid, something that her mother would chastise her or call her a child for, something she might not be able to come back from once she had done it. Her skin burned but not in the usual stinging pain she made herself feel when her mind became too much to bear.

It was like every inch of her was on fire and no matter how much water she drank or how many showers she took, nothing could cool her down. Her hair was damp and sticking to her cheeks as she ran so she knew she had at least attempted to simmer herself. The rest of her body not covered by her clothes—which wasn’t much given what she’d chosen to wear out—was unscathed but when she turned to inspect her surroundings, her neck burst in pain.

Her fingers trailed up to where her pulse point beat rapidly underneath her scorching skin and she was mortified to feel two small puncture wounds, the blood still dribbling out. She reached for her stele to heal herself on instinct but she froze before she could thoroughly search for it.

Maybe that was what she had deserved.

It wasn’t too different from the situations she had found herself in prior. Though that time, it wasn’t herself who had caused her pain, it was a faceless, nameless vampire that she could put the blame on when her brother sent her sympathetic glances through their mother’s berating. There wasn’t a blade in the world that would cause the wounds on her neck nor one that could make her feel as terrible and pleasured all at the same time.

She remembered, for a moment, when the vampire’s fangs punctured into her neck, that feeling of unfettered bliss that caused a tear to roll down her cheek. She had wiped it away with her fingertip, staring at it like it held all of the answers she had searched for in each drop of her own blood leftover from her self-infliction. Every cut she had made, quickly healed with her iratze, never seemed to solve the riddle inside of her mind, the one that haunted her day in and day out until she searched for other vices that weren’t so easily magicked away.

What she had found a few hours prior was familiarity but without the safety of someone she cared for. The vampire she had found was no Raphael. He didn’t hold her closely, whispering sweet nothings into her ears. The vampire was no Lily. He didn’t make her feel beautiful, flirt with her shamelessly to make her skin heat up exponentially more than yin fen alone could.

No, the vampire she had found was careless. He drank from her, got high on her angel blood, and attempted to drain Isabelle more than even she thought she deserved. There was a brief moment where Isabelle imagined what it might be like to fall asleep full of hope—if only a fabricated version—and never wake up.

She let herself be grateful that she was a fighter, that her best friend had taught her what it meant to be alive and her brother had taught her what it meant to stay alive.

Unfamiliar flashes overtook her when she attempted to get out of her head and figure out how to keep herself alive in the too-empty backstreets of New York. Everything was jumbled in her mind and her sight wasn’t faring much better—a blur of lights through the darkness—but when she closed her eyes to stop the searing onslaught of pain, memories too much like nightmares replaced it.

She tried to speak, call out for help she so desperately needed, but her words sounded like mumbles to her own ears. Through the thundering in them, she could make out the soft, reassuring sound of her name but she wasn’t sure where the comforting voice was coming from. She tried to open her eyes again but neon lights swirled in her vision, consuming what little focus she had until everything went black.

She was in and out of sleep for what felt like days but was only a matter of hours by the time she gained enough consciousness to take in her surroundings. It was still dark outside of the window beside her, the moon lighting up the night sky and seeping through the pulled closed shades. Her vision was foggy but when she glanced at her phone out of instinct, it was three in the morning the day after she had gone out.

What had happened?

She was… trying to get away? She thought she had stopped by the DuMort so she must have been on a mission for Alec. Her entire body was throbbing in pain, most of it stinging when she tried to move her neck. When she reached to find the reason for it, she touched soft bandages that wrapped around the column loosely.

No, Raphael and Lily would have never let something like this happen. She couldn’t have been at the DuMort.

Knowing she was taken care of then—as safe as she could be—had her letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

She gripped the sheets that covered her and glanced around the room again. It wasn’t familiar to her; not her own, not Magnus’, not Simon’s, Lily’s, or Rafael’s, and definitely not Meliorn’s.

So, where was she?

“You’re with me.”

Isabelle recognized the voice immediately and jerked her head a little too fast in the direction it came from. Standing in the doorway with a cup of tea in her hand and a stele in another was Lydia, someone Isabelle hadn’t seen since the day of her brother’s called-off wedding.

“Lydia?” Isabelle asked softly, not truly relying on her eyes, ears, or clouded mind to provide her with the truth.

“Hello, Isabelle,” she responded just as gently.

She walked forward hesitantly like she was approaching an injured predator—which Isabelle wouldn’t argue she resembled—before placing the tea on the side table. She held a stele out as an offering and Isabelle cursed herself when she realized it was her own. A shadowhunter losing their stele was like a mundane cop losing his gun. Isabelle had never let herself fail like that before.

“Thank you,” Isabelle whispered, taking the stele delicately from Lydia’s hand. The gentle brush of their fingers was enough to replace the smallest amount of pain still ringing through Isabelle’s body. Tears bubbled to her eyes, not dissimilar to the onslaught of unrestrained emotion from—

Isabelle froze unable to escape the answers—sharpened fangs, blood on her fingertips, tears coating her cheeks, frigid water hitting scorched skin—she should have never searched for. She traced her iratze, wishing that it would disappear her memories as much as her wound.

“I have your bracelet, too. It’s just outside if you—”

“I don’t need it right now and I trust that you’d kept it safe.” Lydia nodded and with a small smile, sat on the very edge of the bed. “How long have I been…?” Isabelle trailed off, too afraid to admit to her own defeat when she still wasn’t quite sure what had brought her there.

“I found you just after midnight. We were all searching—Alec, Jace, Clary, Magnus.” At the mention of the warlock, the swirling lights made a lot more sense.

“Where are they? Did they see me like this?” Isabelle asked in panic. Lydia shook her head and placed a sympathetic hand on Isabelle’s.

“Magnus had already portalled your brothers to the DuMort where you were last seen by Lily. Clary and Magnus tracked you down after that and I was the closest to your location.” Lydia glanced around the room and Isabelle squinted at the unfamiliarity of it.

“I thought you were in Alicante,” Isabelle began, gesturing weakly out the window that clearly did not belong to the city she had seen so many times in her books.

“I was, but—” Lydia hesitated, taking a deep breath as she grabbed for the mug she had set down moments before. “Why don’t you have some tea? Warm up so it’s easier for the iratze to work and heal you the way you so desperately need.”

Isabelle took a quick sip before asking, “Are we in New York? Have you been here this entire time?”

“Not the entire time,” Lydia responded nervously, twiddling her fingers in her lap. She sighed and stood, but before she could take any steps away, Isabelle clasped their hands together.

“I thought you had left,” Isabelle said. The me was unspoken but she was sure Lydia heard it. “You’ve been here.”

“I’ve been here,” Lydia agreed with a solemn nod. “I couldn’t be in Alicante, not when I knew—not when everything I cared about was here.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We were just a phone call away! A damn fire message would have sufficed.” Isabelle hated how bitter and angry her tone was even through the weakness of her tired voice.

She couldn’t help but put unreasonable blame on Lydia. Maybe if Isabelle knew that Lydia was around, she would’ve had somewhere to escape that wouldn’t have led to the nightmare that the past few hours had been. It wasn’t fair but she couldn’t stop herself from shuffling just a little further away from Lydia’s gentle gaze.

“I’ve been—” Lydia cut herself off like she was afraid she said too much.

“Who knew, Lydia? Who knew that you were here?” Isabelle repeated much more calmly than she felt.

“Alexander,” she admitted softly.

Isabelle’s heart banged in hurt. He knew how heartbroken his sister had been when he was asked to marry her, how much her absence lingered on Isabelle’s already fucked up mind. Alec heard her sobs in the middle of the night no matter how much he pretended he hadn’t, he saw the faint scars that not even an iratze could fully erase from Isabelle’s skin. He was there for her when her yin fen addiction took over her life in the worst ways possible and he said nothing.

“Be mad at me, Isabelle. I’m the one your anger should be thrown at. Yell at me if you want. When you’re feeling better, fight me. I’m the one who made the decision.” Her tone was so serious, so sure that the decision was the right one even as Isabelle cried in front of her.

“Why?” Isabelle asked. “You owe me that much. After— I thought that after the wedding was called off that you would—that we would… I don’t understand, Lydia.”

“We couldn’t,” she said, her voice full of regret that her words didn’t match.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to—”

“I couldn’t,” Lydia repeated louder than Isabelle had ever heard her raise her voice.

With the change of voice came a change of location, Lydia standing from the bed and moving away from Isabelle. She kept one hand on the footboard and Isabelle could see her knuckles turning white against it. She wanted to reach toward her, crawl to the end of the bed and hold Lydia’s face in her hands but moving was too much for her tired body to handle.

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t?” Isabelle whispered, truly unsure of the answer. “I— If you didn’t want me, didn’t want to be with me, you could’ve been here all the same.”

“And hurt both of us more in the process?” Lydia laughed but it was humorless. “I had already been hurt by one Lightwood, I couldn’t handle being hurt by the one that mattered most to me.”

“Then why didn’t you give me a chance, Dia?”

“There wasn’t a chance to give,” she said simply. It made no sense and when Isabelle said so, Lydia sighed heavily and turned back toward Isabelle, finally meeting her eyes. “You would’ve given up so much for me, more than you even know.”

“I would’ve fought to keep whatever I could,” Isabelle argued, “but I would have given up anything—everything—if it meant you stayed.”

“That’s just the problem, Iz. We were blinded by each other and you barely even knew me.”

“I know you better than Alec ever did and you were going to marry him,” Isabelle retorted immediately earning a glare from Lydia.

“It was our duty—”

“Your duty has always been the reason I can’t have you, will always be why I can’t have you, won’t it?” Isabelle asked, desperately trying to understand.

“There’s more than that,” Lydia whispered, relenting to sit on the bed once again.

Isabelle used every ounce of strength she had to sit up and reach out, resting her hand on Lydia’s arm. There was something there, something more that Lydia wasn’t telling her but no question she asked seemed to be the right one.

“Then tell me, Lydia. Tell me and let me make my decision this time,” Isabelle pleaded, gripping onto Lydia as tight as she could, which given her state was apparently not tight enough.

“You’re still recovering,” Lydia shook her head, brushing away Isabelle’s hand as she stood. “We shouldn’t talk about this now. Not until your mind is—”

“My mind,” Isabelle interrupted, “has been nowhere good since you left.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia said softly, her tone full of sympathy and guilt. Isabelle rolled her eyes at it.

“You aren’t, though. Not when you stand there and refuse to tell me what I did wrong to make you leave, to have you make the decision to leave without even considering my input.”

“It wasn’t your decision,” Lydia argued, fiery eyes back on Isabelle’s after avoiding her gaze for a few minutes. “Don’t you think I considered it? But you had spent most of my time at the Institute frolicking with the Seelie and flirting with the vampire, I didn’t think that I even mattered.”

“Of course you mattered, Lydia,” Isabelle said honestly. She mattered more than most everyone else.

“How could I matter to you when—”

“When what, Dia? What is it that Meliorn and Simon have that made you think I wouldn’t want to be with you? Was it because they were men?” Lydia let out a humorless huff of laughter.

“I know you don’t care about frivolous things like gender or species,” she responded.

If it wasn’t that, then…

It’s not like that. I— I’m not like that. I’m just not interested in sex. I’ve always been like this.

The wound on her neck stung a little more or maybe Isabelle just noticed it when Raphael came into her mind. She eyed Lydia, her prim and proper clothing that she always attributed to her professionalism but now thought maybe there was something deeper. She was with John for long enough before he died that most shadowhunters would’ve continued the family lineage. She was so willing to marry Alec when she knew he would never be romantically or sexually interested in her. It all made sense to Isabelle suddenly.

Instead of asking, Isabelle reached for Lydia’s hand, tugging her gently closer.

“It was Victor Aldertree who first introduced me to yin fen. He said it was a healing ointment that would help my injury after the demon that killed Clary’s mother attacked the Institute. I wanted—I needed a distraction since—” Isabelle sent a glance to Lydia who winced in response.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia repeated in a whisper.

“It became an addiction, the yin fen, but I knew that the ointment wouldn’t cut it forever. I found out what was in yin fen and went straight to the source. At first, it was just to try and ween myself off but then… It became the only thing keeping me alive, Lydia. I had to have yin fen flowing through my veins in order to survive a life without you.”

“I—”

“No,” Isabelle interrupted yet another apology, “this isn’t on you. I’ve lost people before and I should’ve known how to cope, should’ve gone to Alec when things weren’t right inside my head. I relied on someone I thought I could trust and who I did—still do foolishly. His name was Raphael and he… I loved him, at least as much as I could love someone that wasn’t you.”

“Why are you telling me this, Iz?” Lydia asked almost desperately like she couldn’t bear to hear the rest of the story without reason.

“Because, Dia, Raphael wasn’t interested in me for sex.” Lydia froze where she sat beside Isabelle on the bed, her eyes darting away from Isabelle’s in what looked like shame. “It wasn’t just me, though. I asked him if it was because he was a vampire, like it was some symptom of his species.” Isabelle laughed at the memory. “He— He told me that he had never been interested in sex and never would be. The connections he forged with people were deep and precious to him but sex?” Isabelle shook her head. “It didn’t matter to him. It didn’t matter to me.”

“You stayed with him?” Lydia asked, glancing up to meet Isabelle’s gaze, a thin line of tears bubbling in her eyes. “Even though…”

“I loved him enough that it didn’t matter. That love, though, it— it wasn’t love. It was my addiction taking over every sense I had in my body. I know that now, especially now that I’m with you.” Isabelle lifted a weak hand to Lydia’s jaw, brushing her thumb over a stray tear that had finally fallen.

“Tonight, when I found you,” Lydia began, licking her lips nervously, “you had been bitten by a vampire. You sought them out, I’m assuming?” Isabelle nodded sorrowfully. “How do you know that your addiction isn’t making you feel for me what—”

“I have loved you since the moment I met you, Lydia. Before my yin fen, before my mind was something I didn’t recognize, I loved you with every part of me that is good. The yin fen broke me inside, I see that, I know that, but Lydia, you are the only thing in this world that can make me whole again.”

“You love me?” Lydia asked and Isabelle couldn’t help but let out a joyful giggle.

“Yes, I love you,” she said firmly, reaching up to join her other hand in cupping each side of Lydia’s jaw. “I don’t know what I have to do to convince you, but—”

Apparently, the words were enough. Lydia surged forward, still careful of Isabelle’s wounded state, and pressed their lips together like Isabelle had dreamed of so many times before. She let Lydia take the lead, matching every press of their lips, every slide of her tongue, uncaring that it may never be more than just a simple kiss. Actually, there was nothing simple about how Isabelle’s heart burst in her chest or the way the blood in her veins thrummed with more passion than any amount of yin fen ever could.

When Lydia pulled away, the smile Isabelle had missed so much was bright on her face. Isabelle grinned right back.

“For what it’s worth, I love you, too,” Lydia whispered, closing her eyes like she was relishing in the feeling as much as Isabelle was.

“Does that mean you’ll stay this time?” Isabelle asked. She didn’t care how obvious the hope and desperation were in her voice.

Lydia’s nod was all she needed to feel okay again.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Blossom

For @bytheangell

To Elle, may you enjoy a little bit of Magic, with a heavy dose of Meliorn/Alec~

Summary: Fae magic has told them where to go, and there’s nothing Meliorn and Alec wouldn’t do for their love. It seems, however, that the journey brings with it realizations of the depth of the bond that lies between all three of them.

Read on ao3

Meliorn rises from their kneeling position with the ease and grace of a knight used to both battle and bureaucracy. They’re clad in armor they haven’t worn in over a century, in a realm they have never been in, with a man that should not have been able to survive in the realm. The only item that can be considered a weapon on their body is a dagger made of black adamas found by Magnus and forged by Alec, sheathed and strapped to their thigh, discreetly tucked under the flowing white skirt they've donned under their armor. They look in the distance, where an ominous castle looms, and then turn back to Alec, whose eyes remain on the same place.

An intricate armor of dark leather covers Alec’s torso and arms, held together with vines from Meliorn’s realm and protected with a fine layer of Magnus’ magic. His quiver is spelled to never run out of arrows, though Meliorn and Magnus have both helped Alec learn to summon an arrow to his hand so that he is never truly without. If push comes to shove, Meliorn knows the land will provide for Alec for as long as he and Meliorn are bonded. They just hope they never have to resort to that at all.

They offer a hand out to Alec, a more physical means to accompany the support already thrumming in their connection. Neither of them are having second thoughts about being there, but it doesn’t stop them from being nervous all the same.

Who’s to say they aren’t the proverbial lambs brought to slaughter, after all?

Catarina and Lorenzo had given them every warning against not only going to Edom, but against dealing with Asmodeus directly as well. The former had even suggested they summon Asmodeus instead, but Meliorn had put their foot down on the matter. Magnus would not want to summon Asmodeus to Earth after painstakingly trapping him in Edom. If there was any unspoken wish of Magnus' that they wanted to honor most, then it was that. Asmodeus would not be given the chance to get back to Earth.

Even if it means they end up trapped in Edom themselves.

Without any conscious thought, a flower appears in their free hand just as Alec takes their offered one and intertwines their fingers. Between their fingers, the same flowers that had disintegrated when touched in their realm bloomed in the harsh Edom atmosphere. They look back up at Alec, who offers them a smile as he steps into their personal space.

“Time to save our heart,” says Alec, pressing their foreheads together. They tilt their head just so, brushing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. A small smile appears on both their lips as their bond ignites with the familiar warmth and comfort of their love.

“Magnus will not be happy with us for being here.” Meliorn manages to say just before Alec leans in to press their lips together. “But we’ll take his wrath because that means he’s alive to feel that anger.” They say as they part. Between them, the flower’s filaments glow a gold that reminds the couple of their third’s beautiful eyes.

Fae magic has told them where to go, j ust as Meliorn has always said: the land provides.

And this time around, their realm has provided a possible way to heal Magnus.

“Well, this is one way to meet the in-laws.” Alec mutters with a squeeze of Meliorn’s hand. He turns to face the direction of the castle once again. The hazy red of the realm lights up when lightning strikes in the distance, and a putrid scent begins to permeate the air. They both make a face at the scent, but either adapt quickly or the smell disappears almost instantaneously.

Edom looks better than Meliorn thought it would — which isn't saying much because they only really had Magnus' description to go by. He hadn't been the biggest fan of it after suffering for years in his father's hands, but there had been times where Magnus spoke of the beauty of the realm's flora to a much younger Meliorn. As they stand now with Alec in a barren land of dried soil and humidity, they long for those lands Magnus had described.

“We aren’t married to Magnus.” Meliorn can’t help but point out.

“Not yet,” replies Alec with a nod, and the confidence in his voice is mirrored by the certainty in their bond. Marriage, a permanent bond of some sort, is a foregone conclusion for Alec. Even without having talked about it with either Magnus or themself, Alec already sees that it is all three of them together until the end — whatever that may look like. Meliorn assures him with a wave of affection from their own side of the bond, and Alec tugs at Meliorn as the pair begin their slow trek to the castle.

They're flowers that bloom only in Edom.

Meliorn looks down at the three flowers, noting that despite the direction of the wind, no part of them moved. They lift them a little higher and are surprised when they flare a brilliant yellow then burst into flames. Alec pulls them back just as Meliorn lets go.

“What the—”

A bright fireball the color of sunlight hitting their bed's golden sheets remains floating just a few feet in front of them.

Alec huffs. “The land provides, I guess.” He says dryly. “Guess we’re following the glowing fireball, then?”

They nod, amusement filtering from them to Alec through their bond. Meliorn knows it had taken a while for the shadowhunter to truly understand what the saying meant. Truth be told, Meliorn is pretty sure Alec still didn’t really get it, and that it’s Meliorn’s magic and their Faith that fuels Alec’s own.

It isn’t much of Alec’s fault either. Meliorn had mused the first time Alec had attempted to summon a weapon from the earth the same way he did his enchanted arrows. Alec knew faith and Faith in much the same way mundanes do. Small letter faith is the manifestation of your belief and loyalty in people; like the trust you might put in a lover or a promise made. Faith with a capital F, on the other hand, is the belief in something other or more divine, or simply bigger than one’s self. These are concepts ingrained into Alec’s very DNA as a shadowhunter.

Seelie magic, however, didn’t rely on these. They rely on truths. They don’t just believe that the earth will provide for them — they know it will. They’re brought up learning to work around their inability to lie, weaving words like the vines that often adorn their skin and homes and shaping conversations the way the river molds the land. They may have a queen, but the seelie are loyal to the earth and balance before all else.

At least…

Most of the time.

Meliorn looks at the hand still intertwined with Alec’s, who keeps them following steadily behind the moving flame. Who could have foreseen a seelie, a shadowhunter, and a warlock coming together? Even they and Magnus, who have cared for each other across centuries, had never imagined the kind of peace and security they had managed to find with Alec.

None of the words have left their lips yet for fear of it getting back to the Queen, but Meliorn knows that if they ever have to make a choice between their kind and their loves, well...Magnus and Alec are their people —their very heart and soul. There would be no others that Meliorn would ever love the same.

Of course, their peace had been hard-earned; they would never deny that. Meliorn can still recall the feel of the bond forming between themself and Alec when he’d gotten lost in the parabatai bond, and Magnus’ short-lived insecurity after. They can still remember the way Alec had leaned over them after having woken up, pouring every bit of rudimentary healing magic he’d known as Magnus cradled their head and attempted to soothe them with shaking magicless hands. Their heart ached as they thought about the first time they had attempted to transfuse some of their magic to Magnus after that disastrous affair. Magnus had been so delighted and Meliorn had been helpless to the sheer relief and joy on their lover’s face. They hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences. They hadn’t even considered that —

“Hey,” Alec says abruptly, snapping Meliorn out of their thoughts. He squeezes their hand, and Meliorn slides up to him and presses a quick kiss to his shoulder. No words needed to be said. Alec must have felt Meliorn spiraling, pulled them out without much effort, and understood that they wouldn’t want to talk about it. “Should we be concerned we haven’t been attacked yet?” Alec asks as they happen upon a steep hill.

“I don’t think either of us would be unhappy with an uneventful trip,” is Meliorn’s murmured reply.

"And yet somehow I doubt we'll get that." The ground shakes as they trek down the hill, prompting them to let go of each other. Noise in the distance makes them both stand on edge, with Alec readying his bow and grabbing an arrow. Meliorn remains a mask of calm, though they do listen harder to Edom's natural rhythms.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, though they also concede that they don't entirely know what counts as normal in the realm.

The flame they're following flickers before disappearing entirely as it moves forward, making them pause.

"Well that seems ominous," Alec says, lowering his bow a fraction.

Meliorn gets down on one knee. They press their right hand to the ground, feeling the magic of this world move over and around them, as if they were protected by a thin film of — Magnus' magic covers them from head to toe, and they know if they look up, Alec would be much the same.

It seems that even in the in-between, their heart looks out for them.

A pull on that specific magic with a little boost of their own and Meliorn finds an entirely different web of wards being revealed to them. They look up at where the flame had been, and Alec's widened eyes and small gasp let them know he sees it too. An intricate web of glowing scarlet lines stood before them, reaching high beyond the dark clouds and wide beyond what they can even see.

This, they think as they look around, especially at the barren wasteland that they had just trekked, is not Edom.

Not yet.

This is only the part of the Seelie Realm that connects to Edom.

They aren’t sure why they’ve appeared here when they’d been sent here through a pentagram by warlocks, but Meliorn can’t help but think it’s both for the best but also to their detriment.

Without looking to see if Alec would follow — because of course he will — they walk straight through the barrier.

The warm glow of the well-lit ballroom reminds Meliorn of a time that’s only just begun to fade from their mind. There’s a joyful tune playing on the pianoforte, and couples are dancing in the middle of the room in a way they had thought lost to time. People around them continue about their business, clad in their finest garb and enjoying their host’s hospitality. They look down at their clothes and find their armor gone. In its place are formal wear in shades of maroon fit for the early nineteenth century. Their hair, normally down and loose, is tied in a low ponytail. They reach out with their magic to see who else they know in the party, but find themself distracted by the rustle of leaves from outside.

Seeing as no one is conversing with them, they slip out into the balcony, following the call of the flora without question. They look up to the heavens as they step out, wondering about the stale air and starless sky. Had it rained earlier and they hadn’t noticed? The ground between them shifts as they descend the steps that lead to the gardens, grass lengthening to caress their ankles and flowers preening as they pass.

For the odd stillness that seems to permeate the air, Meliorn is surprised at how alive the plant life is.

“Come with me,” they hear someone whisper in a tone that they shouldn’t have been able to hear. The trees warn them of potential danger, but the shrubs assure them of their continued safety. They slow down as they make their way to the source of the voice.

“You know I cannot, Sir.” Another voice replies. The voice is feminine, soft, and filled with an anguish that makes Meliorn’s own heart ache. “My place is here.” Meliorn presses a hand against a tree and makes sure to hide in the shadows once they find themself as close to the couple as can be without being detected.

“It isn’t,” insists the man. “It doesn’t have to be.” From what Meliorn can see, the man’s kneeling on the ground, looking up at the woman. “Your family has done nothing but hurt you. Do you honestly think that will change any time soon?”

“I…” the woman pauses, and before she even speaks, Meliorn can hear her words as if they’ve been spoken to them directly. They close their eyes, able to make out the vision of bright moonlit eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I’m betrothed.” Blonde hair perfectly coiffed and cheeks rosy as the man squeezes their hands star in Meliorn’s confused mind. They can just make out the hint of bruises hidden beneath layers of fabric and makeup. “It’s a good match and our families will be all the better for our marriage.”

“You don’t love him,” the man hisses. “Will you really condemn yourself to a life without love? Even the noble fall in love, my angel.”

“What would you have me do?” She chokes out between sobs. “I cannot just abandon my people. I’m…I…this is about family, Mr. Bane. Honor.”

Their brain itches with a memory wanting to surface, but it isn’t until the woman is standing and poised to walk away that everything clicks into place for Meliorn. They know exactly who these are now. Closing their eyes, they focus on the lone flower that sits as Magnus’ boutonniere and recognizes his magical signature in it without having to try too hard. Something within them freezes as they spot themself hiding in the branches of another tree nearby.

This had been at the tail end of their last committed relationship together, Meliorn recalls. They had watched as Magnus slowly began to fall in love with the noblewoman and had been prepared to step down or away, but Magnus had insisted that there would be no need. It isn’t as if Meliorn spent too much time on earth for it to truly matter, anyways.

In fact, despite having been with Magnus for the better part of two years, this is the first time they’re seeing the woman that’s been all Magnus can talk about for the past four months.

“Marry me.” The man — Magnus — says. “Marry me and we can do as we please. You will want for nothing, my angel — not riches nor—”

“And what then?” She asks, rounding back on him. “We marry, live our lives as husband and wife, and then what? I want a family of my own. Marrying you…leaving the life I know…I could lose my family. I stand to lose everything! And later on? When I age and you don’t? You would leave and move on. And what would I have left, then? At the end of the day, what risk do you take, Mr. Bane?”

Meliorn watches as Magnus stands, unmoving and silent.

“I thought so.”

She leaves without looking back, and it’s only then that Meliorn sees the way Magnus’ entire body seems to vibrate with the effort of keeping himself together.

They slip out of their hiding place, wanting to reach out to the man, only to stop short when a shaking hand grips their own. Immediately on alert, they reach for the blade they’d tucked by their thigh earlier —

Meliorn shakes his head, clearing his mind. “We were spelled.”

Alec nods, and there’s something in the way he hunches into himself that tells Meliorn something had happened in the short amount of time they’d been apart. “I…” He swallows audibly and nudges Meliorn to look back at the woman. She’s leaving Magnus behind, yes, but there’s tightness to her shoulders and a tremble in her gait that tells everyone it’s against her every being to leave him behind. She pauses by one of the rose bushes and caresses a flower, taking a slow breath in and another slow breath out before leaving the garden.

“That was—”

“The first time we all met.” Alec whispers, causing Meliorn to frown. That was certainly not it. “I was her…she was me…I don’t know how to explain it, but I know exactly who she is…like I was her. Or I am her.”

“Alec,” begins Meliorn softly. “How…?”

“I don’t know.” He says, yes glistening with unshed tears. “But she was miserable. She’d married the abusive prick her parents picked out for her, and there wasn’t a moment she didn’t think about the life she could have had with Magnus.”

“With us.” Meliorn says. “Magnus had this unshakeable belief that she would have been fine with me.”

Alec huffs, a tear escaping. “I think I’m more than a little fine with you.”

Their bond flares back to life, and there’s an intensity to it that hadn’t been there even during the first few days of their bonding. Alec shifts so that their faces are inches from the other once again, hands cupping Meliorn’s face. They place their hands around Alec, eyes closing and magic flowing.

Around them, the garden glows, shifts, and changes until they’re standing in the middle of a thick forest filled with plants found only in Edom. They let their magic breathe just as they do, and it lets them get a feel for the lay of the land without much trouble.

Meliorn tightens their grip on Alec as they stumble upon what they’re looking for.

In the heart of the forest, where the trees have wound together and barely any light filters through, a lone flower stands, tied to the fragment of a soul that belongs to the man now known as Alec Lightwood.

The journey there is faster than either of them anticipated, thorns wilting and vines retracting to make a path for them. The land provides, Meliorn thinks, but this is not just that. The land provides, but the realm protects.

This flower has been rendered near impossible to attain, and yet Edom lets them have it without resistance. Meliorn is both suspicious and grateful.

“I made a deal.” Alec says as they slow down, knowing they were only a few steps from the flower. “I was desperate and wanted to believe that there would be a world where I could have Magnus. A fragment of my soul for the opportunity to bring Magnus happiness.” Alec snorts. “And yet here I’ve done nothing but cause him pain.”

Meliorn hums. “Magnus would not like you thinking that.”

The uprooted trees that hide the flower from view vaguely resemble a ribcage, Meliorn thinks, watching as Alec steps past wards he can’t even see.

As Alec bends down to touch the flower, a bright light flashes.

And in their realm, Magnus Bane opens his eyes for the first time in eighteen months.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

You Are the Truth I Choose to Bend Myself Around

For @thatnerdemryn I could not decide between the different tropes you listed so I didn’t. I decided to write a little bit of each one instead.

Summary: No matter the when, where, or how, Clary and Isabelle will always find (and fall in) love. Or, 6 short Clizzy stories

Read on ao3

Chapter one: Hurt/Comfort

“Ouch!” Clary says, the exclamation swiftly followed by a string of curses. Pulling her hand away from the paper before she can ruin it she looks down to survey the damage. Blood from the surprisingly deep cut she just made into her finger pools quickly and drips onto the floor - but thankfully not on her artwork - as she grabs a towel and spins around in place to try and spot a better solution for her injury. Looking around the room as she turns, her eyes scan for a box of bandaids or even some scrap fabric, anything she can use to stop the bleeding.

Nothing.

For someone as accident-prone as she is, Clary wonders why she doesn’t have any bandaids anywhere… then remembers it’s probably because she used them all. That makes more sense. Clary manages to wash the cut off well enough, which is step one. Unfortunately, unable to find any bandages around her room she decides to fold up a piece of paper towel and tape it against her finger instead.

As far as makeshift bandages go it’s pretty good, even if the cut still stings like hell underneath the abrasive towel. She knows she should probably go down to the medical bay and have someone there wrap it up properly. She could at the very least track down her own stele to use an iratze on herself and heal it completely, but Clary’s in the sweet spot of her creative process, and doing either of those things will totally take her out of the zone.

Instead, Clary returns to her project with a haphazardly taped-up finger, picks the Exacto knife back up, and tries to be a little more careful about not letting it slip this time around. It hurts to bend but it isn’t about to fall off in the next hour, so she promptly sets about ignoring it entirely. In no time Clary’s back to cutting shapes out of colorful pieces of paper and gluing them onto the collage she’s in the middle of creating, humming to herself, and getting lost in the flow of her work.

With her headphones in, Clary is so focused on the canvas in front of her that she doesn’t notice the door open and close behind her, or hear the click of heeled boots cross the room. A tap on her shoulder catches Clary entirely off-guard, causing another slip of the knife that slides across her palm when she jerks her arm back and spins around in surprise.

Her first thought is that it’s someone here to kill or kidnap her. Her second thought is that if they were they probably wouldn’t have tapped her on the shoulder first.

Much to Clary’s relief it isn’t a murderer behind her, only Isabelle - something Clary’s extra grateful for because instead of holding onto the small blade to defend herself she dropped it to the floor in her shock. Embarrassing for a Shadowhunter, she thinks ruefully.

“Shit, Iz, you scared me half to death!” Clary exclaims, pulling her injured hand in towards herself.

“You’re bleeding,” Izzy says, ignoring Clary’s words to focus on her injury instead.

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it in a minute. I’m out of bandaids anyway,” Clary dismisses, ready to shrug it off. Before Clary has a chance to move away Isabelle reaches out to grab her hand and inspect it, which is when Izzy notices the shoddy wrap on Clary’s finger from earlier.

Clary immediately averts her gaze as she feels Izzy’s eyes narrow into an accusing glare.

“Any other injuries I should know about?” Izzy asks, already pulling her stele out of the pocket of her jacket.

“Just those two,” Clary promises. “They aren’t that bad, really.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Clary,” Izzy insists, holding Clary’s hand gently in order to draw the iratze on Clary’s skin. Izzy proceeds to blow cool air over the fresh sting of it and Clary closes her eyes at the sensation. It soothes more than just the lingering sting - it calms Clary as well, quieting her busy mind in a way only Isabelle’s presence can. “If not for yourself, then for me. Please?” Izzy tacks on, looking from Clary’s hand back up to her face with a sincere plea of concern.

Isabelle’s deep brown eyes look at her with such obvious care that Clary can do nothing to stop the flush she feels across her cheeks. When Izzy brings a hand up to brush against Clary’s cheek, Clary realizes she doesn’t want to stop it even if she could. Whatever Clary did to warrant someone as amazing as Isabelle worrying about and caring for her, she’s thankful for it.

“Yeah. I guess I can do that,” Clary agrees.

“Good,” Izzy says, dropping her hand from Clary’s cheek to Clary’s injured hand, placing a kiss over the newly healed skin. “Now put away the sharp objects and come get dinner with me. I’m sure you haven’t eaten today, have you?”

Clary winces apologetically in reply, accepting the offered hand and leaving the last of her work for later. There are few things that can pry Clary Fray away from her artwork, and Isabelle Lightwood is - and always will be - at the top of that very short list.

Chapter 2: Enemies to lovers

Clary turns around abruptly when someone runs straight into her on their way into the club. She’s unsurprised to see the person who shoulder-checked her is a hot blonde, her heels clicking confidently as she walks away without a second glance back at Clary.

“Hey, why don’t you watch where you’re going!” Clary shouts after her, hands shooting up into the air a bit dramatically in her moment of annoyance. Clary might not be stereotypically attractive but she likes to think she isn’t unremarkable enough to be rendered entirely invisible, either.

“You can see me?” the girl asks, stopping abruptly to take a step back toward Clary.

Clary hesitates, the muscles in her body tensing slightly as her brain kicks into immediate ‘fight or flight’ mode - after all, she hadn’t planned on the girl actually stopping, she was mostly just yelling for catharsis. It’s her birthday and so far nothing about this day has gone the way she hoped, and snapping at a stranger seemed like a good outlet in the moment. Now that she’s facing her head-on, Clary isn’t so sure.

In the end, Clary’s instincts choose to fight and she stands her ground. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, but you obviously didn’t see me.”

The girl takes another step closer and Clary isn’t sure she should use the blonde hair as her defining trait - upon closer inspection that’s almost positively a wig. Clary has plenty of other features to focus on, like those bold red lips turned down in focused concentration and eyes that hold a surprising sharpness to them as they survey Clary up and down.

“You have the Sight” The girl - woman, Clary mentally clarifies since she’s probably older than Clary at least by a little - says.

“Wait, the what?” Clary manages.

“How can I not know who you are?” “Has that line seriously ever worked for you?” Clary snaps back, teetering back and forth between curious and annoyed before settling somewhere in the middle.

“Werewolf? Vamp? Part Fae? You’re pretty enough for it…” the woman muses slowly, giving Clary another once-over. This time her red lips pull up from their previous downturn into a hint of a smirk, as if enjoying some secret Clary isn’t in on.

“Are you on drugs?” Clary asks, eyebrow raised. “Or is that another pick-up line? Are you going to ask if I’m an angel who fell from heaven next?” Clary is a mixture of flustered and confused, which only makes her frustrated enough to bring a hand up to her hip, attempting to mask all of those things with an air of indifference and an eye roll.

Neither is convincing, not to herself or the other woman.

“No, I’d know if you were Nephilim,” the ‘blonde’ dismisses easily. She says the sentence as if it inherently makes total sense when it makes absolutely none, at least not to Clary.

“Izzy! Let’s go, we’re already running late,” a tall, dark-haired guy shouts from near the entrance of the club.

“Duty calls,” the woman - Izzy - sighs. “Gotta run.”

Clary thinks Izzy actually sounds regretful as she sighs and turns away without another word.

Clary watches her go, mouth agape. Once Izzy disappears into the club that should be the end of it… except Clary can’t just let their encounter go. What was all that? Who was she?

Clary should let it go. She should definitely let it go… but her feet carry her through the front doors after the stranger before she even realizes she’s moving. She barely registers Simon and Maureen yelling after her and doesn’t turn around to acknowledge them.

There’s something about that woman. It’s something Clary can’t quite put her finger on but it calls to her in a way she’s never felt before, strong and unrelenting. It isn’t a feeling she can just ignore… so she doesn’t.

Entirely unaware of the fate she’s following, Clary follows her future love into the club.

Chapter 3: Fake Dating

Isabelle knows the sleazebag that Clary’s talking to. He’s a werewolf named Peter with whom she’s had her fair share of encounters - each ranging from mildly unpleasant to entirely repulsive. Isabelle immediately wants him as far away from Clary as possible.

“Why is Clary talking to him?” Izzy asks, her face scrunched up in obvious disgust as she sidles up to Alec. The ring of water around the base of his beer tells her that he’s been nursing it long enough that it’s lukewarm by now - meaning he isn’t here because he wants to drink. A quick glance around the room and she catches sight of Magnus and Luke chatting, smiling a little at the knowledge that Alec is just here to be close to Magnus before refocusing on Clary.

“He came up to her a little while ago. I think she’s just too nice to walk away,” Alec admits.

Izzy watches Clary out of the corner of her eye and has to agree - Clary doesn’t seem particularly thrilled with her situation even though she smiles and laughs and nods in all the right places. Izzy’s about to sigh and leave Clary to it when Peter reaches an arm around Clary, his hand resting too low on Clary’s back for comfort. Isabelle watches Clary tense under the touch and glance around, catching Izzy’s gaze and giving her a look Izzy can only interpret as a silent plea for help.

Izzy is at Clary’s side before she’s conscious of her own decision to move, pulling Clary away from Peter.

“Clary, baby, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Izzy says, voice dripping with flirtation. She wraps her arm around Clary’s waist, pulling her close enough to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips.

Peter gives Izzy a dubious look.

“How about you make yourself scarce again, Isabelle. I don’t remember anyone inviting you,” Peter sneers. “Clary certainly didn’t need you around to say she’d stop by my party later.”

Izzy wonders if maybe she read the situation all wrong, praying to the Angel that she hadn’t overstepped and embarrassed herself.

“Do you have a problem with my girlfriend, Peter?” Clary counters, doubling down on Izzy’s lie. Izzy relaxes. She more than relaxes - she feels a flutter in her chest she hadn’t expected at hearing Clary call her ‘girlfriend’, even if it’s just pretending. “I thought the party was an open invitation, I was going to bring Iz with me. But if you don’t want us there…”

Peter glares at Izzy and Izzy can’t really blame him - especially not when she’s egging the reaction on with a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Guess I’ll see both of you at the party, then,” Peter grumbles as he walks away to pointedly turn his attention elsewhere.

Izzy waits until he’s far enough away before dropping her hand from Clary’s waist, trying not to think too hard about the immediate loss she feels at the lack of touch.

“Sorry if the kiss was too much,” Izzy apologizes.

“It was perfect,” Clary says quickly, then flushes. “I mean, for the cover and all,” Clary adds quickly. Izzy wonders if she’s reading too much into it but Clary almost seems flustered. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Any time, Fray,” Izzy says. To anyone listening it might sound casual, but if Clary looks into Izzy’s expression she’ll know it’s a sincere promise.

“Well… we do have a party to go to later,” Clary points out.

Izzy considers her options. Realistically she knows she should say no and end this charade here and now before things get out of hand. They could easily both stay away from the party… but the chance to ruin Peter’s life a little more on top of getting to shamelessly flirt with Clary for an entire night is too tempting to pass up.

“I suppose we do,” Izzy agrees. If her ‘pretending’ to like Clary is a bit more real than she lets on, well, no one needs to know. Certainly not Clary, who beams and grabs Izzy’s hand to hold as they walk past Peter and out of the bar.

Chapter 4: Kid Fic

“We can’t just leave him here,” Clary says, looking down at the warlock child. He can’t be more than a year old, though it’s difficult to tell with his facial features distorted by a warlock mark of red-brown fox fur that exists in intermittent patches along his skin.

“I wish our target shared that sentiment,” Izzy mutters, worrying her lower lip.

“I can’t believe he left a baby behind when he fled,” Clary agrees. “Who sacrifices a kid to save their own… butt?”

Izzy quirks an eyebrow at Clary’s wording.

“What? I’m not about to swear in front of a kid,” Clary points out as if it should be obvious. Maybe it should - Izzy hasn’t dealt with many children outside of her little brother to know.

Izzy looks down at her phone and sighs as yet another call goes to voicemail. “Magnus still isn’t answering.”

“We’ll just have to take care of him until Magnus is free,” Clary says, already scooping the young warlock up into her arms.

Izzy hesitates. “Maybe we should wait.”

“We can’t wait here, what if he comes back and brings backup?” Clary asks, looking around at their exposed position to prove her point.

“You’re right. You take the kid, and I’ll stay here in case our target comes back.”

Realistically, Izzy knows this shouldn’t be a big deal… but the idea of being responsible for a baby is more terrifying than facing down any rogue warlock by herself.

“I’m not leaving you here alone, Iz. Come on, you can keep trying Magnus while we walk back.”

Izzy nods, making one last attempt to call Magnus before grudgingly leaving with Clary and the warlock boy.

Clary pays more attention to the little boy than Izzy for the first half of their walk back, bouncing him in her arms and speaking to him in a higher pitch than her normal speaking voice, not that he understands anything she’s saying anyway.

“I wonder when he ate last… here, you take him while I run into the store and get some food,” Clary says, holding the child out for Izzy to grab without waiting for a reply. Izzy hesitates, however, nearly dropping him when Clary starts to let go assuming Izzy would just take him.

The child immediately begins to cry at being jolted in Izzy’s arms.

“Shhhhh, shhh, it’s okay,” Izzy whispers to the baby, failing to keep the panic from her tone. She remembers reading something about children being able to tell what you’re feeling around them and if that’s the case she knows she isn’t doing herself any favors - she’s terrified. “Please stop crying,” Izzy pleads.

He doesn’t. In a desperate attempt to do anything to make him smile Izzy makes a funny face, poofing out her cheeks and sticking her tongue out. She must look ridiculous but the baby stops crying long enough to look at her in confusion. She’ll take it - anything is better than the crying, and the momentary calm comes just in time for Clary to return from the store.

“Here, I got some little packets of that mushy food since I don’t know what he can eat,” Clary explains, grabbing a food packet from the bag and handing it to Izzy. “Apple seemed safe enough.”

Izzy swallows thickly when she realizes that puts her in charge of feeding duty. She doesn’t want to admit that she’s terrified of doing something wrong, that she has no real experience with babies… that she doesn’t even remember a childhood before training. She does her best to push those thoughts from her mind and focuses on the task at hand.

The baby must be really hungry because he takes the offered food pouch eagerly the moment Izzy places it to his lips.

Clary walks ahead of Izzy chatting casually, entirely unaware of Izzy’s internal crisis over being in charge of a child. This continues once they’re back at the Institute, finally able to get in touch with Alec and Magnus only to be told she should ‘keep the kid entertained’ until they get back.

“I don’t suppose your parents kept any of your baby things here, did they?” Clary asks hopefully.

“What baby things?” Izzy mutters lightly, the words accompanied by a huff of breath.

“You know… toys… books… dolls?” Clary clarifies, not catching the sarcasm of Izzy’s reply.

Isabelle hesitates. She knows just how messed up her childhood will seem compared to the sort of childhood that Clary is obviously used to but she doesn’t want to lie to her girlfriend, not about this.

“I didn’t really have any of that,” Izzy says finally. “We were raised to be soldiers. There wasn’t a lot of time for dolls, not if you wanted to be any good by the time the Academy rolled around.”

“Oh,” Clary says, frowning slightly.

This is it, Izzy realizes. This is the moment Clary rethinks the idea of raising a family as a Shadowhunter, of raising a family with Izzy one day, and Izzy can’t say she blames her. It’s hardly an ideal upbringing, not when you consider the possible alternatives.

“Well, we’re certainly not going to raise our kids like that,” Clary says finally.

“Our…” Izzy trails off in surprise.

Clary immediately misinterprets Izzy’s shock as disagreement. “We haven’t really talked about kids, have we? I guess I always just assumed you’d want a family, with the importance of all that Shadowhunter family legacy stuff…”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” Izzy’s quick to cut Clary off before she gets the wrong impression. “I do want a family… especially if it’s with you.” Izzy allows a small smile to cross her lips, momentarily forgetting her nerves over having this conversation with Clary. They immediately return with her next admission. “I’m just afraid I won’t be very good at it.”

To Isabelle’s surprise, Clary smiles in response to her confession, soft and endearing. “I’m sure you’ll be great at it. Anyway, that’s like, a long way away. Right now we just have to handle a kid for like, another hour. I think even you can manage that much.”

Izzy hopes that Clary’s faith in her isn’t entirely misplaced and does her best not to overthink it.

Izzy holds back at first, letting Clary take the lead while they spend the next hour and a half playing little games of peekabo, or rolling one of those little foam stress balls Clary had in her room back and forth on the floor. They even spend some time finger painting with some of Clary’s art supplies. By the time Alec finally gets back to relieve them of babysitting duty Izzy’s thrown herself fully into playtime, to the point that Clary left the room for a solid 20 minutes and Izzy barely noticed.

Much to her surprise, when Izzy holds the warlock baby out for Alec to take the child whines and reaches back for Izzy. It’s bittersweet in the best possible way to see how attached he managed to grow to her in the short time they spent together.

“See? You’re a natural,” Clary says, reaching out a hand to pull Izzy up from where she sits on the floor. “You’re going to be a great parent someday.”

“We both are,” Izzy agrees. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“And you’ll never have to,” Clary reminds her, pulling her in for a hug before placing a kiss on her cheek, then the corner of her lips before Izzy pulls back from the hug enough for a proper kiss.

After today Izzy can see a future with Clary, a family with Clary, clearer than she ever imagined before. For the first time, it’s a thought that doesn’t bring any fear or anxiety with it - only joyful anticipation of what the coming years will bring.

Chapter 5: Pining

“Just tell her,” Alec says, coming up behind Izzy where she stands in the doorway of the training room watching Clary spar with Jace.

“Tell her what?” Izzy plays dumb even though they both know exactly what Alec is referring to. The ‘what’ in question is Isabelle’s huge crush on Clary, one she thinks she’s much better at hiding than she actually is, apparently.

“I won’t say anything because I’m not a meddling sibling, unlike some people I know,” Alec starts with very pointed wording, which Izzy thinks is pretty unfair considering the fact that her own meddling got Alec a boyfriend-turned-fiance-turned-husband. “But you should say something.”

“Maybe,” Izzy says dismissively.

“She’d be a fool to turn you down,” are Alec’s parting words before he leaves her alone again. Thankfully for Isabelle, Alec has far more important things to do than harass her about her love life… or current lack thereof.

Isabelle watches wistfully as Clary ducks and jumps, wielding her dual kindjals with precision and deadly force. Seeing Clary with a weapon is already more attractive than it has any right to be, but to see her use those weapons with increasing skill, watching the focused furrow of her brow with every jab and the way her muscles tense and flex with every swipe?

It’s just another thing that makes Izzy fall a little more in love with Clary Fray. Falling in love with Clary seems to be what comes easiest to Isabelle right now, her feelings growing every time she watches Clary paint, or listens to Clary hum to herself while she sketches, or when Clary nearly runs out of breath when she rambles excitedly about some mundane thing Izzy’s barely able to follow.

How can everything one person does be so infuriatingly endearing?!

Tell her. Tell Clary she likes her… maybe even loves her? Tell Clary how much easier it is for Izzy to laugh and smile when she’s around, or how much color she’s brought to Izzy’s black-and-white world?

“Hey Iz,” Clary greets her, breath coming in heavy pants after the exertion of her practice. “What’s up?”

Tell her. Like it could be that easy.

Maybe she should. Maybe it could be.

“I…” Izzy hesitates. “I just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch?”

Tell her.

Maybe someday.

---

“You should tell her,” Jace says, the suggestion coming right before he lands a hit with his staff against Clary’s shoulder.

“Quit distracting me,” Clary huffs. “That’s cheating.”

“I don’t think I’m the one distracting you,” Jace points out, nodding over to where Isabelle watches them train from the doorway. Clary very purposefully locks her eyes on Jaces and doesn’t follow his nod. “If your eyes were on me half as much as they’re on Izzy we’d probably be more evenly matched.”

Clary sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Go talk to her,” Jace prods.

“We talk all the time,” Clary deflects. It isn’t a lie, she thinks defensively. They do talk all the time… and yet it’s never enough, either. Clary always wants to spend more time with Izzy - they could spend the entire day together and it wouldn’t be long enough. She doesn’t even care what they do together, because just being around Izzy is enough. Hell, Clary would stand in silence beside Isabelle for hours if it meant sharing that silence with the girl she likes. The girl she quite possibly loves.

When did she become this lost in her feelings for Izzy? Shit.

“You know what I mean, Fray,” Jace says, lunging forward and landing another blow, this time to Clary’s stomach. There’s no use pretending she isn’t completely distracted now, forcing her focus from Izzy - where it drifted again without her even noticing - back to Jace.

“Maybe if you quit making me look bad in front of her…” Clary mutters, swiping down only to have her blow parried by Jace’s staff.

“Nice try, but I’m not going to go easy on you just because you have a crush. How about you step up your game instead?”

Clary does. It takes more concentration and self-control than she cares to admit, but Clary manages to keep her eyes off of Izzy and on Jace long enough to score a few hits of her own.

At the end of her training session, Clary wanders over to where Izzy still stands.

“Hey, Iz, what’s up?”

“I…”

Clary mentally prays for Izzy to confess the words she wants to hear so badly - that she’s here to watch Clary because she’s as gone for Clary as Clary is for her.

“I just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch?” Izzy asks, and Clary tries to ignore the disappointment she feels. The feeling is only momentary because it might not be a confession of love but Isabelle still wants to spend more time with her, and that isn’t nothing. It’s what she wants, even if it isn’t the way she wants it.

It’s enough for now.

Maybe one day Clary will make a confession of her own… just not today.

“Sure,” Clary agrees easily. “Let’s go.”

Maybe someday.

Chapter 6: Meet Cute

Isabelle never bought into the idea of anything as coincidental as being in the right place at the right time… that is until she meets Clary Fray.

Izzy’s entire life is built around the concept of training to be prepared for any and every scenario. She walks into a room and immediately scans possible exits, eyeing the people within a certain radius for potential threats or anything suspicious. She does the same while she’s out and about the city whether she’s on duty or not, which may be the only reason Clary isn’t lost to the Fae realm forever.

After numerous dealings with the Seelies and other Fair Folk, Izzy would be the first to say she’s an expert on them - at least more so than any other Shadowhunters her age. Certainly enough to spot a mundane being lured towards one of the entrances to the Faerie Realm that Izzy knows is nearby.

The girl is roughly Isabelle’s age, a bit younger if she has to hazard a guess, with a shock of red hair falling loosely around her face. It’s the hair that first catches Izzy’s gaze, the color standing out in stark contrast to the greens and browns of the woods just off the paved pathway of the park. Once Izzy activates a rune or two she can see through the weak glamour the Fae creature has over itself as it speaks in enticing, dulcet tones about magic and fairies and a land so beautiful it can hardly be believed.

Not a lie - the Fair Folk cannot lie - though Izzy thinks leaving out the bit about being trapped there forever once the girl eats or drinks anything, or so much as accidentally treads on an ant is a bit unfair.

“As much fun as all that sounds,” Izzy states loudly, making her presence known, standing behind them with a hand on the hilt of her seraph blade. “I’m going to have to request you don’t go kidnapping any mundanes today.”

“She isn’t,” the Fae argues. “She has the sight!”

Izzy shakes her head.

“That doesn’t make the kidnapping part any better. Consider yourself lucky I’m letting you go at all and leave the girl.” When the Fae hesitates Izzy pulls her blade out fully and activates it. “That wasn’t a request. Go. Now.”

The redhead looks like she has half a mind to follow after the faerie when he flees but she doesn’t in the end.

“I wasn’t being kidnapped,” she huffs, bringing her hands up to rest on her hips. “I wanted to go. I wanted to see-”

“You would’ve seen plenty when they never allowed you to leave again,” Izzy says. “Trust me. There are better ways to see the Faerie Realms.”

“Can you show me?” the redhead asks, eyes lighting back up with eagerness now that she knows her chance of seeing the magical realm isn’t lost entirely.

Izzy doesn’t answer the question - there are things she needs to know first. “He said you had the Sight?”

“I can see people like him sometimes. Glimpses of things no one around me can see. I used to think I was crazy,” the girl admits. “But you saw him, too!”

“You aren’t crazy,” Izzy promises. “What’s your name?”

“Clary,” the redhead supplies. When Isabelle waits in expectant silence Clary adds a last name. “Clary Fray.”

Izzy runs the name through her head, trying to recall anyone with the surname and coming up short.

“I’m Isabelle. What do you say we get you somewhere a bit safer for now. I could walk you home, then I’ll know where to find you for that trip to the Seelie Realm one day. Deal?”

Clary smiles and nods her head with such enthusiasm that Izzy laughs a little. That only serves to make Clary smile wider.

“Alright, Isabelle. And thanks, I guess. If he really was trying to kidnap me-”

“He absolutely was. You have to be careful - not everything magical is sweet and innocent.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t trust you, then,” Clary points out.

It’s a fair point. Izzy did just show up out of nowhere and pull a weapon in front of Clary, so no, Clary has no reason to trust her.

“Do you?” Izzy asks. “Trust me?”

“I do,” Clary admits at length. “I don’t know why, but… I do.”

Izzy smiles back. “Good. Let’s get you home, then.”

Izzy doesn’t plan on seeing Clary again, but she can’t help the pull she feels towards the girl - a pull strong enough to convince her enough to swing by Clary’s apartment once, twice, and then a third time. Isabelle stands outside but never approaches no matter how badly she wants to.

The third time Izzy almost knocks on the door but stops short. She knows shouldn’t… Sight or not, Izzy can’t go dragging this girl into the Shadow World despite the connection she feels.

Except, less than 24 hours after Isabelle promises herself she’ll leave Clary alone, Clary shows up on the doorstep of the Institute.

“Clary,” Izzy greets, swinging the door open wide.

“Isabelle,” Clary realizes, surprised.

Right place, right time. Izzy never believed in coincidences until Clary.

Until now.

Who is Isabelle to deny fate if it’s going to keep putting Clary in her path?

Some things, Izzy’s starting to realize, are simply meant to be.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Backflips are Always Necessary

For @amchara

Summary: “For real? You have a crush on Simon?” Alec’s eyebrows were so high they were nearly in his hairline. “Lower your voice.” Jace glanced back to see that Simon was still talking, laughing and smiling, completely oblivious to the internal meltdown Jace was having across the bar. “I don’t have a crush. I just—” He paused, not sure how to put his not-a-crush into words. “Want to stare at him longingly from across the room while he sings love songs?” Magnus kept his voice low, but it was still full of sass as he continued, “Want to see how long he can hold you up against the wall of the training room?” And then he said in a more sultry tone, “Want to drag your teeth down his abs?” ~~~ Jace and Simon have been working and training together for months. When did Simon get so hot??

Read on ao3

“The backflips are so unnecessary.”

Jace shot a quick grin at Simon, and then did another backflip over Simon’s head, landing behind him. He whirled and swung his sword, and Simon just barely dodged the blow—but the tip of Jace’s sword caught the edge of his shirt, slicing cleanly through the fabric. Simon scowled down at it, poking a finger through the hole.

“Not so unnecessary when it distracts you,” Jace responded with a grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was getting harder and harder to score a hit on Simon, and a rush of victory ran through him. This was fun.

“Dude!” Simon glared at him, and then started tugging his shirt off. “This was brand new!”

Jace smirked as Simon held his sword in one hand and his shirt in the other, frowning down at it. Jace swiped the sweat off his forehead; they’d been at it for nearly an hour. Simon was always strong, it came with being a vampire, but he’d learned so quickly these past few months. His reflexes rivaled Jace’s, and he’d gone from constantly being put on his back to knocking Jace on his ass more often than he should. Jace almost hated to admit it, but he was kind of proud of the little nerd.

Not so little, Jace thought, unable to tear his eyes away from Simon’s torso. He didn’t need to breathe, but he still did automatically, and with every breath his chest flexed. He wasn’t as built as Jace was, but he was agile, lean, power flowing through each fluid movement of his body. Jace could imagine dragging his fingers down those strong pecs, over his nipples, down his stomach, past his belly button and following the little trail of hair that led to—

“Jace!”

Jace jerked his head up to see Simon with his sword raised, shirt discarded on the floor, ready for another round. “You okay, man? You zoned out there. Need to tap out?”

Heat swirled in Jace’s gut as he stared at Simon, those dark eyes looking at him intently. What the fuck? He shook his head, falling easily back into a defensive stance.

“Yeah, you’d like that,” Jace said, forcing another grin, keeping his eyes trained resolutely on Simon’s face. His face, not his stupid washboard abs and— “Let’s go.” And then he lunged forward.

Simon wasn’t ready for the aggressive attack, and he stumbled backwards a step before parrying Jace’s blow. They continued to move across the training mat, gaining and giving ground to each other as they sparred. Jace let his muscles move on auto-pilot, his mind stuck on whatever the fuck just happened. He had been ogling Simon. Simon. Nerdy vampire Simon, who nearly did a cartwheel when he found the lego version of Kylo Ren’s shuttle on Ebay for a price he could actually afford. Simon, who thought his ‘James Bond’ face was an effective method of seduction. Simon, whose idea of a good time was sitting on his ass and playing Halo until 3AM.

Okay, so he was right about the Halo thing. But he was Simon. He was not attractive. Jace didn’t go for guys often, but when he did, they weren’t whiny whimps that just so happened to be stupidly built, with dark brown eyes that focused so intently on Jace when they were arguing or sparring or doing anything ever, and a freakishly charming smile with full lips that Jace could so easily imagine pressed against his own, dragging down his jaw, sliding over his throat—

A hard impact against a solid surface jarred Jace out of his thoughts. He blinked once, focusing on the gleaming grin that was inches in front of his face. He registered heat, and something solid pressing him against the cool brick of the wall—Simon. Simon had him pinned against the wall, their hips slotted together easily, Simon’s face so close that his hot breath fanned over Jace’s cheek.

“You’re really off your game today.” Simon’s teeth gleamed as he smiled, his body taut and tight against Jace’s. Simon had Jace’s wrists pinned on each side of his head, and something sparked down Jace’s spine, radiating a delicious tightness throughout his body. Jace stared at Simon for a beat, and the sword Jace was still holding onto fell from his hand with a clatter.

“I can be distracting too,” Simon said in a teasing tone that definitely did not cause a flush to run through Jace’s body, “and I didn’t even need a backflip.”

Irritation (and that was it, only irritation) flared high in Jace’s belly, and he tried to shove Simon off. But of course Simon was a fucking vampire with stupid superstrength. He didn’t budge; in fact his smirk said he seemed to enjoy Jace struggling and fuck he was getting hard fuck fuck fuck.

Jace twisted his leg at the knee, hooking around Simon’s calf and jerking. Simon let out a very undignified yelp as he fell to the ground, landing hard on the mat on his back. His smirk was still in place as he looked up at Jace. It made his stupidly adorable dimples more prominent, and Jace exhaled through his nose as his heart gave an extra-hard thud against his chest.

“Your form is still shit,” he said tersely. “Maybe focus on that instead of cracking jokes all the time.” Then he spun on his heel and walked away, ignoring Simon cackling behind him.

~~~

He didn’t see Simon for the next several days. He was training with Alec and researching with Clary and doing basically anything that kept his mind busy (and his body away from wherever Simon was). Because when his brain wasn’t occupied, it kept digging up memories. Of every sparring session that ended with one of them on their back, every grin that Jace hadn’t read as flirtatious at the time, every smart-ass remark or argument where Jace wanted to throw Simon up against the wall.

And of those memories that Jace had boxed up and locked away in the far corner of his mind. Like that night when Simon had drunk his blood.

Jace had known it would feel good; people didn’t get addicted to a vampire’s bite for no reason. But the entire situation was the farthest thing from sexy—Simon was on the edge of death, and he needed Jace’s blood to heal him. Jace hadn’t expected the electric charge that had gone through his body when Simon’s lips pressed against his wrist, or the heat that tangled in his gut as Simon pulled blood from his body.

He’d told himself it was just the adrenaline, and the euphoria from Simon’s vampire venom. But now, after how his body had reacted in the training room, he wasn’t so sure. His brain kept flickering back to the memory of Simon’s hard body pinning him to the wall, of his mouth just inches away from Jace’s face, of Simon’s thigh pressing against his, in the perfect spot to just ghost over his—

“Stop.” He set the dagger he’d been cleaning down a little more roughly than he should have, and he felt Isabelle’s disapproving frown before he saw it.

“I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but don’t take it out on my equipment.” Isabelle picked up the dagger, giving it a critical look before rubbing it carefully with the cloth in her hand.

“It’s fine.” Jace sighed. This wasn’t working, no matter what he did, Simon just kept crawling back into his head like an annoying little gnat. With really nice gnat arms. Fuck.

Okay. Clearly some weird, hind part of his brain had suddenly decided it found Simon attractive. It had decided it way too many times over the past few days, from how often he’d found himself with his cock in his hand, stroking himself to the memory of Simon pressing him against the wall of the training room.

Which, yeah, objectively Jace could understand it—Simon had the smoking body that was only getting hotter the longer he trained. But the second Simon opened his mouth, he negated all the allure his washboard abs and ridiculously firm ass brought him.

He argued. Like, all the time. He questioned every decision Jace made, wanted to know the hows and whys and ‘maybe we should try this’ or ‘why do we always have to do what Jace says’ and maybe it’s because Jace actually knew what the fuck he was doing, Simon.

He also rambled about the nerdiest shit; he had once spent two hours going on about why the tenth Doctor was the best Doctor, and why the ninth was ‘vastly underrated.’ First of all, Jace had no idea why Simon went through so many doctors and it worried him. Second, the only reason Jace hadn’t cut Simon’s tongue out that night was because Clary had hidden his knives and he was too drunk to find them.

But, Jace had to admit, he had seen another side of Simon over the past several months. He’d gone from hardly being able to hold a sword to holding his own against Jace with not only it, but also several other weapons. He’d proven himself more than capable in the field, with his quick wit, ability to think on his feet, and a relentless cleverness that had surprised everyone (even Jace had to admit he was impressed when Simon tricked the Piskies into signing a treaty by using their own crazy logic against them). Plus, when he used his words for things that actually mattered, like recommending new music for Jace (his ability to put together the perfect playlist for whatever mood Jace was in was almost uncanny), or showing Jace a new strategy in Call of Duty, he was actually pleasant to talk to. Maybe even fun. So it was possible, maybe, that Jace could understand why his dick had decided to overlook how disgustingly dorky Simon was.

In any other circumstances, Jace knew what he would do—he’d flirt. Like, hardcore flirt. And if Simon flirted back, Jace would make a move—ask him out, or just have another training session in a more… secluded location and see what happened.

But this was Simon. Jace had no idea if he even liked guys—he’d only ever seen Simon date girls. And while he was pretty sure he’d caught Simon staring at his ass once or twice, that was hardly a good barometer for if Simon wanted to do more than look. Jace had a really great ass; it would catch anyone’s eye.

“You wanna talk about it?” Isabelle asked way-too-casually as she began placing the weapons back in their holders.

“Not really.” Jace handed her a dagger, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. Asking anyone about Simon’s… preferences was out of the question. Especially Isabelle or Clary. First they’d die laughing and then they’d probably try to do some kind of romcom set-up thing. Jace would rather poke his eye out with his steele than deal with any of that.

Isabelle hummed, and he waited. Surely she would poke and prod and try to force Jace to talk and that was not happening. He was going to take his illicit fantasies of Simon blowing him on the training mat to the grave.

So he was surprised when Isabelle simply said, “Okay,” and continued putting weapons away. They worked in silence for a moment until Isabelle asked, “Are you coming with us to the bar tonight? Simon’s playing a set.”

“What do I care if Simon’s playing?” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was going to say them, and he refrained from rolling his eyes at his total lack of chill. Get a grip. So what if his brain was pulling up memories of Simon strumming his guitar, crooning soulfully into the mic? Memories he’d never considered sexy before. But now, just the thought of them sent a gentle heat swirling through his torso.

He clenched his jaw. This was ridiculous; he felt like a horny teenager that just figured out how to masturbate.

Isabelle arched an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t say you did. I just think it’ll be fun and, no offense, but you really look like you can use some of that right now.”

Jace forced a rueful chuckle. “Watching Simon croak out his latest emo ballad-of-the-week is the last thing I’d do for fun.”

Isabelle’s face went from amused to contemplative. The fake grin fell off his face; he knew that look. It was the same one she used when they sparred, when she was considering if she should take him out at the knee or disarm him first, or when she was putting together an outfit for an important date. She was puzzling something out, putting pieces together in her head, and this was one puzzle Jace did not want her to put together.

“You said you liked his music,” she said thoughtfully, taking a step closer. “That it had ‘soul.’”

Jace snorted, even as his heart sped up in his chest, because he had totally said that. He’d been a little drunk at the time and he didn’t think Isabelle could hear him because she was sucking face with Clary a few feet over. (No, it didn’t bother him that his adoptive sister was hooking up with his ex. Okay, it did for like a week but he got over it.)

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d say.” He turned away from Isabelle, like if she kept looking in his eyes, she’d know that he was imagining Simon singing Lover while staring right at Jace. Which Jace totally wasn’t imagining. Because he hated that song. Taylor Swift was the worst.

“I have other plans tonight. You guys have fun.” He strode out the door, feeling Isabelle’s stare following him. Whatever. He was going to go find something to hit, and then find a date for tonight. He was totally not going to go watch Simon sing.

~~~

He was not here to watch Simon sing. He just literally had nothing better to do. He had done every single job he could possibly do at the Institute, he couldn’t find the book he was reading, and the drinks here were the cheapest in town (free, since his brother-in-law owned the place and all).

He had nabbed a stool in a dark back corner of the bar on the lower level; a stage had been set up across the room, and Jace watched as Simon adjusted his equipment. He was nervous; Jace could tell by how he kept re-tuning his guitar and his inability to stand in one spot for longer than three seconds. He also kept glancing up and scanning the room, as though he was looking for something. He apparently wasn’t finding it from how he would frown and look back at his guitar while muttering under his breath. With his vampire senses, Simon should be able to see Jace even in his dark corner, but if he noticed Jace, he didn’t make it apparent. A cold bead of disappointment formed in his chest at the thought that Simon might not notice him, and Jace brushed it away.

Clary, Isabelle, and Alec were sitting at a table not far from the stage. Jace had waved at Maia when he came in, and he recognized other familiar faces around the bar. It was a larger crowd than Simon usually played for, and his first time playing at Magnus’s club, which was probably why he was more nervous than Jace had ever seen him. As Simon did one last sound check, his mouth twisted in an uncharacteristic frown, Jace was suddenly struck by the urge to run up to the stage and wrap his arms around Simon, reeling him in tight so he could whisper in his ear, ‘Untwist your panties. If you can take out a fire demon without breaking a sweat, you can plunk out five songs in front of a few dozen people.’ Simon would pull back and smile at him, highlighting those stupid dimples—

“Well, well, well. Look who decided they could make it tonight after all.”

Only years of training kept Jace from jerking in surprise at hearing Magnus’s voice so close behind him. He tossed back the rest of the bourbon he’d been nursing, focusing on getting his stupid emotions under control before turning to Magnus. Whose ever-present smile aimed directly at Jace.

“Isabelle said you were otherwise engaged.”

“My plans changed, so.” Jace nodded at the bartender, who poured him another drink.

“One for me, please,” Magnus said, sliding onto the stool next to Jace. The bartender grabbed a glass for Magnus. On the other side of the room, Simon began his set, launching into a slow song Jace had never heard before. Jace wasn’t sure to be irritated or thankful that Magnus had shown up; one part of him wanted to be alone so he could drink in every moment of Simon on stage in private. The other part of him was horrified about the entire thing, begging Jace to ask Magnus to check if he was under the influence of a spell that made you lose all common sense.

They sat in silence for a moment, long enough for Jace to wonder if maybe Magnus just didn’t want to be subjected to Clary and Isabelle’s overenthusiastic antics during Simon’s set. Currently they were both swaying and holding up lighters while Alec sat with his arms crossed, looking like he was ready to sink into the floor next to them. Jace couldn’t stop a corner of his mouth from pulling up as he watched Simon’s face light up with amusement as he sang to the crowd.

“So,” Magnus said, and Jace turned to see him leaning back, looking at Jace knowingly, “that was quite the display in the training room the other day.”

Jace’s gut twisted, but he kept his face neutral as he replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Magnus leaned forward, grinning way too wide. “You don’t remember that—” he pointed to Simon, who was accepting a smattering of applause at finishing his first song, grinning sheepishly he made some kind of joke that Jace didn’t catch but he was sure was impossibly corny— “sexy hunk of vampire pressing you up against the wall? Too bad; it’s certainly an image I’ll remember for the rest of my days.” Magnus took another sip of his whiskey, watching Jace expectantly.

Jace frowned, shifting in his seat. He had thought he and Simon were alone, but he should know better by now. “What were you doing there?”

“I had just had lunch with my husband and was on my way out when I heard the most enticing grunts and gasps coming from the training room.” Magnus grinned again as Jace rolled his eyes, trying to cover the heat he felt rushing to his face. “You know me,” Magnus continued, enjoying himself way too much, “I like to be where the action is.”

“There was no action!” Jace replied indignantly. On the stage, Simon had switched from his keyboard to his guitar, strumming a song with a melody Jace vaguely recognized from one of the mixes Simon had made for him.

“Are you sure? Certainly seemed like there was some below-the-belt action from my perspective.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jace replied through clenched teeth. He didn’t even know why he was getting so irritated, or why his heart was beating so hard he was surprised the bar wasn’t shaking.

“Me? Ridiculous?” Magnus scoffed, turning his attention to Simon, leaning in closer to Jace and speaking conspiratorially. “What’s the problem? He’s cute, capable, has a pleasant enough voice… that I distinctly remember you telling me ‘had soul.’” Magnus rolled his head until he caught Jace’s eye, and Jace groaned, falling back against the barstool. Magnus looked back at Simon, continuing, “Maybe he’s a little… nerdy, but some guys like that type.”

“I don’t,” Jace replied immediately, even as a little voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Isabelle said, ‘Oh, you so do.’

Magnus hummed. “Your lips say no, but your eyes have been saying yes all evening. Why, I’m surprised he can still sit on that stool, with how hard you’ve been eye-fucking him all night.” Magnus nodded towards Simon, and Jace lowered his head, raising one hand to cover his eyes.

“By the angel. I’ve only been here twenty minutes. And I’m not—eye-fucking anyone.”

“A few more minutes in that training room, and it would have been actual—”

“Magnus!” Jace whirled on him, scowling. “Can you please not be so… you?” Magnus grinned, taking another sip of his drink.

Jace glanced over at the stage, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Simon staring directly at him. He was strumming his guitar, his eyes alight, and a delicate warmth surged through Jace’s torso as Simon sang. Jace had seen Simon sing before, and he was always good, but tonight, he was—he was fucking breathtaking.

He was wearing a t-shirt, but it was far from his typical, colorful shirts with sayings like ‘Mordor Fun Run’ or ‘I had friends on that Death Star.’ Jace half-wondered if Simon had stolen the tight, black t-shirt from his closet. The stage lights bathed him in a soft, golden light, giving him an almost ethereal glow as he sang into the mic. His voice was strong, soulful, his dark eyes locked on Jace as his fingers effortlessly moved over the guitar strings.

Jace kept waiting for Simon to look away. But he didn’t, and Jace found himself unable to break the connection. The whispered conversations around him fell away, the anxiety in his body faded, and for a moment Jace felt like they were the only two people in the room.

Then Magnus cleared his throat and Jace jerked in his seat, looking over at him. By the time he turned back to Simon, the song had ended, and Simon was smiling at the crowd, introducing his next song.

“Oh yes,” Magnus said with raised eyebrows. “There’s absolutely zero eye-fucking going on here.”

Jace ran a hand through his hair, glancing between Magnus and Simon. Then he grabbed his glass, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp, enjoying the burn of it down his throat. After he set it down, he turned to Magnus. “It’s just. It’s Simon. He’s so—”

“Annoying? Immature? Very enthusiastic about rather… odd things?”

“Yes!” Jace breathed.

“And also smart and sexy and surprisingly magnetic and intense?”

“Yes.” Jace let his head slump down until his forehead hit the bar.

Magnus laughed, reaching one hand out to squeeze Jace’s shoulder. “It’s okay to be attracted to a nerd. I won’t tell anyone.” He stood up, walking around to Jace’s other side, and Jace picked up his head. “I’ll leave you to stew in your unresolved sexual tension for now, but please feel free to join us. You know, your friends?” Magnus gestured towards the table at the front. “I promise the view will be much better up close.”

Jace knew his face was flaming as Magnus winked at him and then strode away towards the stage. He settled back in his bar stool, his heart doing a somersault in his chest as Simon’s gaze came back to him with another grin. Jace’s mouth automatically formed a half-smile back before he caught himself.

Jace nodded to the bartender as Simon launched into another song. He needed at least one more drink before he had to deal with his friends. And honestly, the less people that saw whatever his face looked like when he watched Simon play, the better.

~~~

Jace slid into an empty chair next to Alec a few moments after Simon finished his last song. Clary and Isabelle had wandered over to the bar, and Jace gave Alec a nod, which he returned with a raised eyebrow.

“I was wondering when you’d make your way over here.” Alec took a sip of his beer, and from the small smirk on his lips, Jace didn’t have to wonder if Magnus had told Alec about what he’d seen in the training room.

“I was running late.” Jace glanced over to see Simon chatting with a few very excited girls on the side of the stage.

“You were brooding in the corner.”

“I wasn’t brooding,” Jace said, frowning as one of the girls put a hand on Simon’s bicep, squeezing and laughing. “I was contemplating.” Simon grinned at the girl, and Jace turned back to Alec, ignoring the sour feeling in his gut that was totally not jealousy. “Like you’re one to talk about brooding, anyway.”

Alec opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by Magnus sliding into the seat next to his. “I love it when he broods,” Magnus said, leaning into Alec’s side. Alec’s cheeks turned pink as he rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face told Jace he didn’t really mind.

Jace glanced over at the bar where Clary and Isabelle were standing very close together, smiling and laughing. As he watched, Clary leaned in and kissed Isabelle softly, their hands tangling together. He turned back to the table, only to be met with Alec and Magnus staring into each other’s eyes. He sighed; apparently tonight was going to be a big reminder that everyone else was head-over-heels in love while he was in the corner, alone and salivating over Simon ‘Call me ‘Your Lordship Daylighter’’ Lewis.

So this is what rock bottom feels like, Jace thought as he took another gulp of his drink.

“Did you enjoy Simon’s show?” Alec’s voice was just on the edge of teasing, and Jace forced his face to remain blank.

“It was fine.”

“He was captivated.” Magnus was enjoying himself way too much.

“I was not—”

“I’m having a very hard time with the idea of you being captivated by Simon.” One corner of Alec’s mouth was quirked up in what, for him, passed as a small smile, but Jace could see the question in his eyes—Are you really into Simon? Like, Simon Lewis? “I know you’ve been training with him a lot lately—”

“In many different areas,” Magnus added. Alec shot him a look, and Magnus shrugged, but sat back in his chair as Alec turned back to Jace.

“—but I thought you didn’t really like him. Because he’s annoying.”

He is completely annoying, Jace thought automatically. But then he sighed. That was a lie. It was true when he and Simon had first met, back when they only saw each other as rivals for Clary’s affections. But it wasn’t true now. It hadn’t been for a while. Somewhere along the way, he’d developed genuine affection for Simon.

Gross.

Jace was horrible at hiding things from Alec, and he realized that at this point, it was fruitless anyway. He shrugged helplessly, and Alec’s mouth dropped open.

“For real? You have a crush on Simon?”

“Lower your voice.” Jace glanced back at the bar to see that Simon was still talking to the girls, laughing and smiling, completely oblivious to the internal meltdown Jace was having across the bar. “I don’t have a crush. I just—” He paused, not sure how to put his not-a-crush into words.

“Want to stare at him longingly from across the room while he sings love songs?” Magnus kept his voice low, but it was still full of sass as he continued, “Want to see how long he can hold you up against the wall of the training room?” And then he said in a more sultry tone, “Want to drag your teeth down his abs?”

Alec turned to his husband, a perturbed look on his face, which Magnus scoffed at.

“Oh, Alexander, don’t look at me like that. It’s not like we haven’t talked about his abs. And his perfect little dimples.”

“He’s the worst,” Jace said, sneaking another look at those dimples that were being wasted on drunk girls at the bar. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he sighed, turning back to Alec, who was still staring at him as if he’d grown another head. “I just—can’t get him out of my head.” After another quick look over his shoulder to make sure Clary and Isabelle were still at the bar, he quietly asked, “Is he even into guys?”

Alec snorted as Magnus’s head tilted. “Oh, honey,” Magnus said, “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

Jace frowned at Magnus, and then out of the corner of his eye he saw Simon approaching the table.

“Shut up, he’s coming,” he mumbled, and the look Alec gave him told Jace he would definitely be talking about it later.

“Hey! You made it!” Simon thunked down in the seat next to Jace, his grin making his dimples even more apparent than usual. His knee bumped against Jace’s, and just that light contact reminded Jace of that last training session—Simon’s body pressing hard against his own, Simon’s face and chest so close that Jace could’ve leaned forward and licked—

He cleared his throat, trying to shift his upper body away from Simon. His traitorous legs, though, refused to budge and kept lightly brushing against Simon’s knee under the table. “Izzy said I had to,” he blurted, ignoring Magnus’s snort into his wine glass.

Simon chuckled, his smile dimming slightly, and a stab of shame hit Jace in the chest that he was the cause of it. He was possessed by a crazy urge to apologize, to say anything to bring that smile back full force and fuck he had to be going insane.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew I was playing.” Simon fiddled with a guitar pic in his hand, a nervous habit that Jace had seen before. He wasn’t sure why Simon would be nervous now though; the gig was over. “I looked for you at the Institute, but couldn’t find you. Figured you were out on a mission or something.” Simon paused, nervousness flickering over his face as he asked, “So what’d you think?” He turned his big, dark eyes on Jace and waited.

A million responses flew through Jace’s head—It was better than a root canal—You didn’t suck (at least not in the way I want you to)—Can you stroke my cock as well as you stroke your keyboard?—Why can’t I stop thinking about you?—Can I drag my teeth down your abs?—but luckily what came out was, “It was a really good set. I even recognized a few of the songs.”

Simon’s smile came back full force, and for fuck’s sake, it was like the sun came out and goddamn birds started singing. That same delicate warmth from before started simmering inside Jace’s entire body, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. Next to him, he could practically hear Alec staring at him, and he definitely heard Magnus emit a smug, happy little hum of approval.

“Yeah, I was thinking you might.” Simon turned his body more towards Jace, which pressed his knee more firmly into Jace’s. The heat in Jace’s veins sparked hotter, and he clasped his hands together in his lap, lest he do something stupid like reach out and touch Simon.

“I put some of them on the playlists I made for you.” Simon chuckled again, and fuck it was adorable. “Which, I mean, I don’t even know if you listened to them—”

“You made Jace playlists?” Alec’s voice was nothing short of amazed, and when Jace turned to him, he was staring at Simon with his eyebrows practically in his hairline. “Of music? And he listened to them?”

Simon shrugged, moving the guitar pic over his knuckles. “Well I just said I didn’t know—”

“Oh, he’s listened to them.” Magnus was smiling as he leaned forward, and Jace suppressed a groan. “He told me they had—gosh, what was it you said, Jace?” He tilted his head as Jace glared at him. “Oh yeah—soul.”

“Really?” Simon was staring at Jace now, smiling again, and Jace could feel his cheeks flaming up.

“They—they were good,” Jace said, looking at the table, at the empty stage, anywhere but at Simon’s smiling face, Alec's stunned one, or Magnus’s entirely-too-delighted one. I have to get out of here.

Jace prided himself on his control, his ability to think clearly through the worst, most stressful situations. And he didn’t know what it was about Simon, but he was knocking Jace entirely off-kilter, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Luckily at that moment a waitress arrived, setting a dark drink with a pink umbrella down on the table. “For you,” she said to Simon, an expression of surprise falling over his face. “From them.” She pointed back at the bar, to where the girls Simon had been talking to earlier were waving at him.

Simon glanced at them and then picked up the drink, sniffing it. It was blood, Jace realized, and the sour feeling in his stomach returned.

“Oh, wow. It’s the good stuff,” Simon said. He grinned. “No one’s ever sent me a drink before.” He turned and gave a small wave over to the girls, who smiled and waved back.

Jace’s gut twisted, and he found himself glaring at the women before he could stop himself. They didn’t even notice him; they were too busy making moon eyes at Simon.

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the table. “What do you expect from vampire groupies? They’ll do whatever they can to get you to take a bite.”

The table went silent, and he looked up to see Alec and Magnus exchanging a look. Simon’s smile had dropped into a frown.

“They’re not groupies,” Simon said, irritation in his voice.

Clary and Isabelle appeared then, dropping into their seats on the other side of Simon. “Hey, Si,” Clary said with a wicked grin, “one of the girls at the bar said she’d be interested in a ‘private show.’” She giggled, and Isabelle smiled, shaking her head.

Jace arched an eyebrow at Simon, and he sighed. “They’re not vampire groupies. They’re… normal groupies.”

“You deserve all the groupies.” Clary reached over and squeezed his arm.

“Clearly it’s the wardrobe.” Isabelle looked over Simon, smiling in approval. “Glad you took my advice.”

Of course Isabelle dressed Simon. Jace didn’t know if he should thank her or kill her.

Simon looked down at himself, his shoulders hunching in self-consciously. “I don’t know. I think it’s all still too tight.”

“Nonsense.” Magnus smiled brightly, and Jace didn’t like the look in his eye one bit. “You look amazing. Don’t you think so, Jace?”

Jace froze as all eyes turned to him. He was going to kill Magnus. And Isabelle. Just everyone. Do not look at Simon, do not look at Simon. He shrugged. “He looks fine,” he mumbled to the table.

“You should go say hi,” Clary said, and Jace picked his head up to see her addressing Simon. “Isn’t that one of the perks of being an amazing musician? Having girls fawn all over you.”

“Not just girls,” Magnus muttered, just low enough for Jace to hear (and, with his vampire hearing, probably Simon as well), and Jace’s blood turned to ice in his veins. He never should have come here tonight. He should have worked out or stayed in his room and jerked off. Again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of the groupies approaching their table, and Simon was opening his mouth, probably to tell Clary that she was right and he does deserve all the groupies and a stab of irritation hit him in his chest. He was this weird mass of tension and emotion, and he’d probably do something really stupid if he stayed there another second.

“I gotta go.” He stood up abruptly, ignoring the surprise on his friend’s faces.

“What? But you just—” Simon was interrupted by the girl—the groupie—coming to stand next to him.

“Hey, Simon,” she said with a smile. “Do you wanna come have your drink with me and my friends at the bar?”

Jace turned on his heel, not wanting to hear Simon accept her offer. He was out the door and had turned the corner into the alley next to the club when he heard quick footsteps behind him and a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Alec, can we please not do this—” Jace turned, prepared to fend off a worried Alec when he stopped short at the sight of Simon standing before him.

“Are you okay? You ran out of there so fast, and you seem… weird.” Simon’s eyes were full of concern, and he shifted on his feet.

Jace stared at him for a minute, his mouth hanging open slightly. How did Simon look even better under the dim, crappy streetlight than he did in the bar?

Jace inhaled a sharp breath, glancing away. “I’m fine. Just tired.” He took a step back and waved Simon off. “Go back to your little fan club.”

“My ‘fan club?’ Come on Jace, what’s your problem?” Simon’s voice had a tone Jace was very familiar with from him—irritation. It sent a wave of adrenaline through Jace’s body, and he was turning back to Simon before he even realized his feet were moving.

“Nothing,” Jace said, automatically adopting the same pissy tone. “I don’t have a problem.” He stared at Simon, daring him to… Jace wasn’t even sure. Simon stared right back, his brow furrowing in confusion. Then he shook his head, crossing his arms.

“I see how it is.” Simon stepped closer, and Jace forced himself to keep his face expressionless, to not react to having Simon inches away. His heart didn’t quite get the memo, as it instantly started beating twice as fast. “You’re jealous.”

Jace jerked back. “I am not jealous.”

“Oh, you so are.” Simon let out a humorless laugh, and that sour feeling came back to Jace’s gut, along with a stab of annoyance. Simon not only knew Jace was jealous of those stupid groupies, he was laughing about it.

Simon started moving, talking with his hands like he did when he was agitated. “You’re always the big, scary, hunky Shadowhunter with the amazing hair and the fantastic arms and beautiful eyes that can see into my soul and you can get anyone you want. But now people are actually starting to notice me—” Simon stepped closer to Jace and pointed a thumb at himself, “—and you can’t handle the fact that wimpy little Simon Lewis is actually getting some attention.” He crossed his arms and stared defiantly up at Jace, daring him to disagree.

Jace looked into those big, brown eyes, and just like that all of the annoyance and frustration flowed out of him. Maybe Simon wasn’t as straight as Jace thought.

Giddiness swept through him, and he didn’t even try to stop the grin that formed on his face.

“You think my eyes are beautiful?”

“I—don’t change the subject!” Simon sputtered, taking a step back.

Jace stepped forward, not letting him get away. “And you think I’m… hunky?” He reached out slowly, giving Simon plenty of time to back away, and ran the tips of his fingers down Simon’s arm, over the soft fabric of his t-shirt, grazing the skin of his elbow.

“Look, you—” Panic played over Simon’s face as he looked everywhere but at Jace. “You know you’re gorgeous, alright? And—you’re trying to distract me.” Jace lightly pressed his thumb into the crease of Simon’s elbow, and an electric current flowed through his body, lighting him up from the inside out.

Simon looked down and stared at Jace’s hand like he’d forgotten Jace even had hands. “And it’s working,” Simon added softly.

“You’re not wimpy,” Jace said, and Simon’s gaze cut up to him, his mouth hanging slightly open. “And you’re not little.” Jace’s hand slid up to his bicep, squeezing lightly.

Simon kept staring at him, his face the perfect picture of befuddlement. “Thank you?”

Jace held his gaze, his heart thudding in his chest. He knew Simon could hear it; that he knew how fast his pulse was racing. “You are wrong about one thing, though. I can’t get anyone I want.” He let his gaze drop down to Simon’s lips, wanting to lean in, but that niggling worry was still at the back of his mind. Simon was still just standing there, staring at him, not making any move to touch or come closer. What if Jace was completely off base here?

He felt a hand lightly touch his chest, and he looked down to see Simon’s fingers curling into his shirt. The air felt so thick Jace wondered how he was breathing, and then Simon said softly, “I think you can.” He swayed an inch closer, and something inside Jace snapped. He closed the last few inches between them and pressed his lips to Simon’s.

It was a chaste, soft kiss, Jace capturing Simon’s upper lip between his own. The fragile warmth Jace had been carrying with him all night suddenly solidified, searing hotter, sending bolts of electricity throughout his body. He was still holding Simon’s elbow, and he gently swiped his thumb over the bare skin there. Simon seemed frozen, unmoving, his hand still loosely clutching Jace’s shirt as they kissed.

Jace hung there for a moment, his heart sinking as Simon didn’t kiss him back. Fuck. He pulled away, their noses bumping, asking, “Was that ok—”

He was cut off by Simon surging forward and kissing him, his hands sliding up Jace’s chest so he could wrap his arms around Jace’s neck. Jace let out a muffled noise of surprise that melted into a moan of approval as he kissed Simon back, letting go of his elbow and resting his hands on Simon’s waist. He slackened his jaw, tilting his head to change the angle and kiss Simon deeper, and holy shit it was so much better than the fantasies he’d been nursing for days. Simon tasted sweet with a tang of iron, and his fingers tightened against Jace’s neck, his nails lightly digging in when Jace slipped his tongue into Simon’s mouth.

When his need to breathe made Jace finally pull away, he was light-headed, his breathing was ragged, and he was half-hard in his jeans. He kept Simon close, one hand resting on his lower back, the other sliding up his arm.

“Yeah,” Simon breathed, gazing up at Jace with dark eyes. “Yeah, that was—that was okay. Like, holy shit.” He exhaled a shaky laugh and then clumsily carded a hand through Jace’s hair.

Jace let his eyes flutter shut; everywhere Simon touched him sent a shot of lust through his body, straight to his cock. “Yeah,” he said, because that one word was all he was capable of. He leaned forward, and Simon met him for another kiss, this one instantly deep and wet. Sliding both hands to Simon’s hips, Jace gently guided him backward until Simon was pressed against the brick wall of the bar.

He leaned against Simon with his full weight, pinning him to the wall just like Simon had him pinned that day in the training room. Simon let out a moan, keeping one hand in Jace’s hair as the other moved down his back, over his hip, anywhere he could reach. Jace trailed his lips down Simon’s jaw, nibbling and sucking on his throat.

“You feel so good.” Simon’s voice was raspy, and he pulled at the back of Jace’s shirt until he could slide a hand under the hem and press his palm against the bare skin of Jace’s back.

Jace shuddered against him, slotting a thigh between Simon’s legs. He couldn’t resist lightly grinding against the hardness there, and he grinned at the whimper that fell from Simon’s mouth.

“So do you. Better than I thought.”

Simon pulled slightly away, turning so he could see Jace’s face. “You’ve thought about this?”

Jace blinked at him. “Yeah.”

“Really?” The hand Simon had on his back tightened, and Jace got distracted by Simon’s earlobe and leaned in to tug it between his teeth. “Why—Why didn’t you say something?” Simon gasped.

“I didn’t think you were into guys,” Jace murmured, his hands starting to wander again.

“Oh. I wasn’t.”

Jace froze at that, pulling his head up. Simon’s eyes were closed, but once he realized Jace was no longer actively mauling him, they flickered open. “Or I didn’t think I was,” he said after seeing the look on Jace’s face.

Jace stared at Simon as doubt, cold and icy, crept into his chest. It was one thing to fuck around with a guy that was curious; he’d done that, hell, he’d been the curious one not all that long ago. But those encounters rarely lasted longer than a few hours, and he’d never see the guy again. And if they did this—whatever this was—and Simon regretted it, if he couldn’t look Jace in the eye again, if he turned into extra-weird, squirrely Simon…

That would probably be for the best. This was just a physical thing anyway. They’d fool around, Jace would work Simon out of his system, and then things would go back to normal.

The iciness in his chest spread down his spine, and crawled up the back of his neck. He pressed his lips together, glancing away.

“If you’re not into this—”

“No! No, I am, I definitely am.” Simon’s hand slid from Jace’s hair to the side of his neck, warm and thoroughly distracting. “Look, I’ve thought about you—and me, um, for a while.” Simon’s gaze flickered between Jace’s face and his chest. “I never thought it would ever actually, like, happen. And I won’t lie, what you got going on there—” his gaze quickly dropped to Jace’s groin, where his own hard cock was pressing against the seam of his jeans, and Jace couldn’t help but smile— “is a little—it’s intimidating. But it’s also really hot.”

Simon’s eyes had somehow grown darker as he spoke, his hands still on Jace’s skin, and Jace licked his lips. Simon tracked the movement as he continued, his words falling out of his mouth almost faster than Jace could keep up with. “All I can think about right now is how good it feels to touch you like this, and if you’ll let me keep touching and kissing and I am so, so into this. I mean, you can feel how much I want you.” And then he grabbed Jace’s hand from his hip, and placed it right over the bulge in his jeans.

All coherent thought left Jace’s brain as he palmed the hard line of Simon’s cock, and Simon made a noise like all the breath had been punched out of him. “Fuck,” he said, letting his head fall back against the brick. “I didn’t really think that through. And I probably shouldn’t just assume you wanna—”

“I wanna,” Jace said, pressing more firmly with his hand, cupping Simon. He placed his other hand on the brick next to Simon’s head and leaned in closer, caging Simon in. A small noise of pleasure fell from Simon’s lips, and Jace made it his mission to see how many different sounds he could get out of Simon before the night was through.

“So if I take you home tonight, you’re not gonna freak out in the morning are you?” He brushed his nose along Simon’s cheek, dragging his lips down his throat, all while steadily dragging his fingers over Simon’s dick. If they weren’t in an alley behind a bar, he’d have his hand down Simon’s pants.

“You’d let me stay the night?” Simon somehow managed to sound both surprised and helplessly turned on all at once.

Jace chuckled, his hand moving up to curl around Simon’s waistband, his knuckles brushing Simon’s stomach. “I think we can keep our mouths occupied enough to not annoy each other.”

Simon chuckled, and the breathlessness of it, from a vampire who didn’t need to breathe, made his heart beat shamefully hard. “I can’t promise no freaking out,” Simon admitted. “But if I do, it will probably be because I can’t believe this is actually happening.” He caught Jace’s eye, grinning and Jace grinned back. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled this much.

Then Simon looked around. “And that it’s happening in an alley.”

“Yeah.” They should go before someone saw them—not that Jace really cared about hiding it; he was already guaranteed a mountain of shit over this from Alec and Magnus. But the longer he could delay adding Clary and Isabelle to that list of people who knew he wanted to hump Simon’s leg, the better.

Jace pulled away, tugging Simon along by his grip on his waistband. “Let’s go.”

They’d only taken a few steps, walking side by side with their hands brushing when Jace asked, “You sure you don’t wanna go say bye to your groupies?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “They aren’t groupies, dick. If anything, you’re my groupie.”

“Never call me that.”

Simon nudged Jace’s shoulder. “Seriously, remember when you wouldn’t even hug me? And now you’re kissing me in dark alleys and taking me back to your room to have your way with me.”

Jace groaned. “You know what, let’s just forget this entire thing.”

“It’s the James Bond impression, right? It always gets them.”

~~~

They fell silent after that, the only sound their footsteps against the pavement. The walk back to the Institute was short, but it was plenty of time for Jace to replay the past hour in his brain. He kept stealing glances at Simon out of the corner of his eye, and he had to stop himself from yanking Simon into a few more alleys along the way.

With every step, the tension grew, and by the time they stepped through the threshold, it was so thick Jace thought he could reach out and touch it.

He couldn’t, but he could touch Simon. And after they walked through the deserted hallways, Jace grabbed Simon’s hand and pulled him into the safety of his room, locking the door behind him. He’d barely turned around when Simon was on him, shoving him up against the door, kissing him with a determination Jace hadn’t seen out of him before.

Jace melted into it, opening to Simon, the kiss turning deep and dirty nearly instantly. Simon let out a muffled moan against his mouth, and then he slotted their hips together, pinning Jace to the door with his torso. Then he grabbed Jace’s arms, his hands sliding up to his wrists to pin them on either side of his head.

Jace couldn’t help the ragged moan that left his lips; it was exactly like that day when they sparred, when Jace ran out with his dick leading the way.

“You remember that day in the training room?” Simon asked, grinding his thigh against Jace’s cock. “I had you just like this, and your heart started beating so fast.” Simon lowered his head to Jace’s neck, dragging his lips across his pulse point, and Jace angled his head to give him better access. Probably not the smartest thing to do to offer up to a vampire, but approximately zero of Jace’s blood was in his brain at the moment.

“Just like it is right now.” Simon’s voice was low, almost hypnotic, and Jace squirmed beneath him, heat searing through his veins as Simon held him hard and fast.

“I thought you were pissed I had beaten you,” Simon said, his fingers squeezing Jace’s wrists, his lips brushing against Jace’s overheated skin, “but you were turned on, weren’t you?”

Jace grunted; he was so hard it was almost painful, but he was still able to do the same move that he did that day—he twisted his leg and knocked Simon’s feet out from under him. He mourned the loss of the pressure against his body as soon as Simon fell on his ass, but he smirked down at him.

“You didn’t beat me,” he said. Then he tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Simon’s eyes darkened as he looked over Jace’s frame, and Jace stepped forward, pulling at his belt buckle with one hand. “Now do you want to fight or do you want to get naked?”

Simon was a blur as he shot up to his feet, removing his shirt in the same motion. He stopped a few inches in front of Jace, and Jace’s breath caught at having a half-naked Simon smirking at him.

“Is both an option?”

Jace huffed out a laugh. “Always.” And then he reached out and reeled Simon in, kissing him hard.

Jace had always enjoyed kissing, but with Simon it was on another level. He had only been with a handful of guys, and most of them had preferred to skip straight to the main event, which Jace had been fine with. Simon seemed more than eager even to kiss and explore, his hands sinking into Jace’s hair and tracing over Jace’s arms and back.

Jace lost himself in it, in the taste of Simon’s tongue, in how his body trembled beneath Jace’s touch, in how he gasped and moaned and pushed closer when Jace found a sensitive spot. He met Jace for every push and pull; he was just as strong as Jace, and Jace relished that he could kiss and grip as hard as he wanted and Simon would only gasp and hold just as hard.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, relishing in the taste and feel of each other, but when Jace finally steered them towards the bed, Simon’s lips were red and puffy, his hair was sticking up everywhere, and he was staring at Jace like he wanted to devour him. A flash of memory hit him, of the sharp pain of Simon’s fangs piercing his skin, and Jace stumbled and basically fell on his back onto the bed.

“You good?” Simon asked, hovering over Jace in an instant, his eyes tracing over Jace’s chest and stomach. He traced his hand down Jace’s chest, and Jace shivered as Simon’s fingers grazed his nipple.

“Yeah,” Jace breathed. Simon lightly tweaked his nipple and smiled as Jace sucked in a breath. Then Simon pinched it, hard, his eyes trained on Jace as a wicked grin crossed his face.

Jace’s cock jumped at the sharp pain, and he grabbed Simon’s wrist, stilling his hand. “Watch it. You keep that up, I might change my mind about sucking your dick.”

Simon’s eyes got wide, and he flattened his palm on Jace’s chest. “You—you want to do that?”

Jace was about to turn himself inside out with how much he wanted to do that. His desire for it surprised even him; it wasn’t his go-to move. He’d only given a few blowjobs before, and they weren’t the best experiences—one guy had gotten too rough with his hair, another didn’t give any warning before he came.

But the sounds Simon had made in the alley just from Jace’s hand on his dick through his clothes were going to fuel his spank bank for years; Jace couldn’t even imagine what he was going to sound like when Jace got his mouth on him. His need to make Simon fall apart against his tongue outweighed anything else in his mind.

But this was Simon’s first time with a guy. While all Jace wanted was to strip him naked and make him scream, he should probably use a little more finesse.

He grabbed Simon’s shoulders and with a quick movement, flipped them so Simon was laying on the mattress, with Jace hovering over him.

“I do,” he said, letting his hand drift over Simon’s neck, down his chest. “But only if you want me to. I know this is all new for you—”

“I want you to,” Simon interrupted, reaching down to flick open the clasp of his jeans. “I am ready to buy my First-Class ticket on the train to Pleasuretown, courtesy of your mouth and tongue.” He froze then as Jace half-groaned and half-laughed.

“Uh, can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

“No,” Jace said. Such an idiot, he thought, but he was unable to stop the small smile from crossing his face. He got his knees under him and slid back, brushing away Simon’s hands so he could pull down the zipper on his jeans. Before he moved to pull them down farther, he looked at Simon’s face. Simon was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips swollen, hair disheveled, and marks starting to form on his neck from Jace’s kisses. It was the sexiest thing Jace had ever seen, and he felt momentarily lost in a wave of emotion as he took him in.

“You sure?” Jace asked softly, and Simon nodded.

Jace had seen Simon half-naked plenty of times. Before that sparring session, he’d never thought twice about it. He knew, objectively, that Simon was attractive, but he was Simon. And now, splayed out naked on Jace’s bed, lit by the dim light of the bedside lamp, laying against the pillows like he belonged there, he was Simon. With his muscled chest, chiseled abs, toned arms, (seriously, why did Simon hide that body under the baggy jeans and t-shirts he wore?), not even his nervous expression could take away from how beautiful he was. His thick cock jutted out between his thighs, already glistening at the tip, and Jace’s fingers twitched with the need to touch everything he was looking at.

Simon’s gaze flickered nervously between Jace and anywhere else, squirming slightly. Jace trailed one finger down the center of Simon’s chest, over those ridiculous abs as he said, his voice soft but serious, “You’re kind of gorgeous.”

Simon’s mouth fell open, and Jace was sure that if Simon wasn’t a vampire, he’d have a full-body blush going on right now. “I probably should have asked this a half-hour ago, but are you sure you’re not under some kind of crazy magic spell?”

“That’s a fair question,” Jace admitted, letting his fingers ghost over Simon’s hips, around the thatched hair around his cock. Simon shifted under his touch, a tiny strangled sound leaving his mouth. “I don’t think so, but I’m willing to risk it.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Simon’s sternum. “If I do freak out, I’m going to make sure tonight is worth it.” Then, he dragged the flat of his tongue over Simon’s nipple as he reached down and wrapped his fingers around Simon’s cock.

Simon made a noise Jace had never heard before, a strangled gasping moan, and his hand slid into Jace’s hair, pulling it away from his face. Jace looked up at Simon as he stroked him; Simon was staring down at him like he was still in disbelief that this was real life.

“Tell me when you’re close.” Jace slid further down Simon’s body, finally licking a warm, wet path down Simon’s firm abs. It was a thousand times better than his fantasies, because it was real fucking life, with Simon keening above him, his body shuddering with every movement.

Jace paused to drag his teeth over the divot in Simon’s hip, and then he settled between Simon’s thighs. Simon’s hand was still in his hair, but ever so gentle, keeping it brushed away from his face. Jace’s gaze flickered up to see Simon watching him, his pupils blown. Jace maintained eye contact as he wrapped his lips around the head of Simon’s cock.

Simon whimpered, his hips jerking, and Jace used one hand to keep him down against the mattress. Salt burst on his tongue, and he hummed, drawing a muffled curse from above.

“Fuck, Jace, I can’t—you—this will be the shortest blow job in the world, holy fuck.”

Jace pulled off, lazily stroking Simon’s cock as he grinned up at him. “That’s okay. I bet you could get it up again.”

Simon half-snorted, half-gasped as Jace thumbed around his head, using precome to smooth his stroke down the shaft. “Because you’re so attractive all I have to do is look at you to get a hard-on?”

“You said it.” Jace licked a broad stripe on the underside of Simon’s cock, and then sucked him down again, bracing himself on the hand he had pressing Simon into the bed. With the other, he reached down and opened the clasp on his jeans, needing to get some relief to his own hard cock.

It wasn’t the shortest blow job Jace had ever experienced, but it was only minutes later when Simon choked out, “I’m close.”

Jace had never swallowed before, and he hadn’t planned to start now. But instead of pulling off, he found himself taking Simon deeper, until he bumped the back of his throat. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after tonight, and if this was a one-time thing, he wanted everything he could get. Simon’s hand had been in his hair the entire time, but now he yanked it out, slamming it into the mattress next to him.

“Jace, I’m serious, I’m gonna—I can’t—” Jace squeezed his hip, and then Simon’s body jerked. Seconds later he came in Jace’s mouth, high-pitched gasps falling from his mouth.

Jace swallowed what he could and pulled off, some getting on his chin and on the bedspread. He coughed lightly, wiping at his face and letting his forehead rest on Simon’s thigh. When he had his breath back, he moved up the bed, laying on his side next to Simon.

Simon, who had an arm flung over his face, his mouth turned downward.

Oh, shit, Jace thought. Simon could have at least waited until Jace got off to have his freak out. But the mild irritation instantly faded to concern as Jace slowly reached out to pull Simon’s arm away.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice, “you okay?” Simon was staring at the ceiling, seemingly concentrating very hard on not looking at Jace. He forced himself to be casual, even as worry formed a hard ball in his stomach. “If I’d known a bj would shut you up, I would have done that a long time ago.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You shut up,” he said, and then he snapped his mouth shut. But Jace had already seen what Simon was trying to hide—his fangs, sharp and ready, now hidden behind his lower lip.

The memory of Simon’s mouth, warm and hungry against his wrist slammed into him again, and he was very quickly reminded of his hard cock that was still straining against his pants. He had to get some breathing room; he squirmed on the bed, shoving his jeans down his thighs and kicking them to the floor. He left his boxers on, he didn’t want to send Simon into cardiac arrest at the first sight of his hard dick, but it was still making its presence known—the tip was barely poking out of his waistband. He quickly adjusted himself before turning back to Simon.

Simon looked a little less stressed, or at least his jaw wasn’t clenching so hard. He appeared to be thoroughly distracted by Jace’s cock, staring down at it with dark eyes. Jace desperately wanted to touch him, but he wasn’t sure if that was what Simon wanted or needed. He propped his head up on his hand and asked, “So is this a, ‘I just came in a guy’s mouth’ freak out or a ‘I want to bite the guy whose mouth I just came in’ freak out?”

“It’s not a freak out,” Simon responded instantly. Jace raised an eyebrow, and Simon said, “Okay, it’s kind of a freak out. But not about you.” His gaze trailed down Jace’s body, flailing one hand helplessly towards him. Jace preened under the attention; he knew what he looked like, in nothing but his black boxer briefs, his pale skin setting off the dark ink of the runes that were scattered all over his body. “Or, not about what we just did, not really, even though it—I just—you—that was—”

“Amazing?” Jace broke in before Simon burst a blood vessel. “Incredible? Life-changing?”

Simon let his head fall back against the pillow, laughing, the tension finally leaving his face. Jace could see that his fangs had receded, and he tried not to think about the pang of disappointment that swept through him.

“You’re so vain.”

“That’s not a no.” Jace slid closer and let a hand drift over Simon’s chest, and Simon immediately reached up and started touching Jace’s wrist, fingers trailing up his arm as they spoke.

“It was my—” Simon pointed to his mouth with his other hand, a sheepish look falling over him. “I can usually control it, but when you—” Jace smirked and let his hand trail further down Simon’s stomach, and Simon shivered, “—it was so good, and they just popped out and I didn’t want you to think that I would—”

“You can,” Jace interrupted, and Simon froze. “If you want.” Simon’s eyes widened, and Jace swore he saw Simon’s cock twitch.

“Fuck. You can’t say stuff like that, Jace.”

“Why not? I’m okay with it, your control’s gotten so much better, and it felt good—”

“Oh, I know it felt good.” Simon exhaled, and yeah, he was definitely getting hard again already. “I was there, and if I hadn’t been nearly dying you would have been able to tell very obviously just how good it felt to me.” He turned to Jace, his brown eyes full of want and worry. “But I don’t—I shouldn’t—”

“Hey.” Jace slid his hand up to cup Simon’s face, pulling him closer. “I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was going to say them, and now it was his turn to freeze. He could count the number of people he trusted on one hand, and Simon had never been among them.

Until he was.

Fuck. When had he gone and developed feelings for the little gremlin?

“You do?” Simon asked, his eyes wide again.

“Yeah,” Jace said, still stunned. “I guess I do.”

Simon smiled at him then, big and bright, and leaned in. The kiss was soft and sweet, the complete opposite of the desperation and lust that had been fueling them since they walked through the door.

Then Simon pressed closer, wrapping a leg around Jace’s, and the kiss instantly turned deeper and dirtier, with Simon licking into Jace’s mouth and reaching down to palm his ass.

“Okay,” Simon said when he pulled away, leaving Jace panting. “I trust you too. And please don’t laugh at me, but honestly, I’ve kind of had this fantasy—”

He instantly had Jace’s full attention. “Tell me.”

Simon hesitated, staring at Jace, and then he gently pushed on Jace’s shoulder so he would lay back on the bed. He moved to hover over Jace, and he slid his hand down Jace’s chest, tracing over the runes scattered over his skin. He paused to tweak a nipple, smiling at Jace’s huffed out breath, then down his abs, over the waistband of his boxers to between his legs. He avoided Jace’s cock, instead letting his fingers drift to Jace’s inner thigh, stopping them a few inches below the crease where his thigh met his hip.

“Here,” he said softly.

Jace wasn’t proud of the sound he let out; it was somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and his eyes flutter shut. “By the Angel. Simon, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“I don’t have to—”

“No.” Jace’s eyes flew open, and he pulled Simon down on top of him, kissing him hard. “You are absolutely going to,” he said against his mouth, squirming beneath him. Simon chuckled, kissing him one more time before moving down his body.

“I also really want to blow you,” Simon said into Jace’s neck, right before he splayed his hand directly over Jace’s stiff dick. Jace’s hips jerked, and Simon traced the line of him through the fabric, the words still falling out of his mouth like he couldn’t help it. “Like, I honestly can’t believe how much I want to. But before you come, I could pull off and use my hand, and then bite right when—”

“Simon.” Jace couldn’t believe it, but he was going to give Simon a run for shortest blowjob ever if Simon kept talking. He cupped Simon’s cheek, forcing him to make eye contact. Jace needed to see his face when he asked his next question; he had to be sure. “You really don’t have to sell me here. But you’re sure you’re ready for that?” Please say yes.

Simon stared at him for a moment, his hand still curled over Jace’s cock, and asked, “The blood sucking or the dick sucking?”

This is it; this is how I die. Again. Blue balls via Simon Lewis.

“Both, Simon,” Jace said tightly.

Simon smiled, and then lightly squeezed with his hand, drawing a small gasp out of Jace. “I am,” he confirmed. “You already said you trust me not to hurt you. Can you also trust me to know what I’m ready for?” He took his hand away so he could push up onto his knees and tug at Jace’s boxers. Simon was almost fully hard again, and Jace had to stop himself from reaching out and stroking him.

“I just want to make sure—”

“Will you just shut up and let me blow you?” Simon said in exasperation. “Take your underwear off.”

Jace smirked up at Simon; until the past hour, arguing had been his favorite thing to do with him. “You take it off.”

Simon glared at him for a moment. Then— “Fine.” He reached down, grabbed a fistful of Jace’s boxers, and yanked hard. The fabric tore easily under with super strength, and Simon tossed the cloth over his shoulder.

Jace’s eyes widened as a new wave of heat cascaded over his body; that was stupidly hot. But still— “Was that really necess—oh, shit.” He was cut off by Simon’s hand wrapping around his cock, stroking him from base to tip and back again.

“You’ll tell me if I do anything wrong?” Simon settled between his legs, staring at Jace’s dick like it was the holy grail or the one ring from that movie marathon he’d tried to make everyone sit through. (Jace and Clary were the only ones that made it through all the movies; Clary actually enjoyed it, and Jace thought the fighting was cool.)

“I always do.” Jace’s voice was tight as Simon thumbed at his cock, smoothing wetness around the tip. “Just go slow, and don’t try to take too much. I’ll tell you when I’m close.”

Jace wasn’t sure what he expected, and he didn’t care; he was so wound up he felt like he could explode just from Simon’s warm breath blowing over his skin. But he wasn’t expecting Simon to dive right in, keeping eye contact as he wrapped his mouth around the head of Jace’s cock and sucked him down until he nearly hit the back of his throat.

It was a glorious three seconds of wetness and heat until Simon pulled away, coughing. Jace let out a half-amused, half-irritated noise as he said, “I literally just told you to go slow.”

Simon didn’t respond, just wiped at the corner of his mouth, glanced up at Jace, and leaned down again. He took him in slower this time, licking and sucking, one hand braced on Jace’s thigh, his thumb swiping along the sensitive skin. Right where he’d pointed to earlier, where he wanted to bite Jace. The thought of it made Jace’s heart speed up in his chest, a fast thumpthumpthumpthump, and he knew Simon could hear it from how he hummed and squeezed Jace’s thigh.

Simon was messy and clumsy, but also an incredibly fast learner. He started off tentative at first, sucking at the head, laving his tongue and lips along the shaft, but it seemed like only minutes later he was figuring out how to relax his throat and take Jace in deeper. He used the fact that he didn’t have to breathe to his full advantage, taking his time swirling his tongue in just the right way to make Jace squirm and moan.

“Fuck Simon, are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Jace finally gasped out, after minutes of fisting his hands in the duvet and clamping down on all the words threatening to spill out of his mouth. He was not going to call Simon ‘baby’ or yell out his name or any of that shit. Feelings or not, it wasn’t his style.

Simon pulled off his cock, immediately stroking him with his fist. “Pretty sure I’d remember if I had,” he said, and then he dipped his head low to drag his tongue over Jace’s balls.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck.” Jace felt as though he was aflame from the inside out; Simon’s mouth and tongue and hands were going to be his undoing.

Then he felt a feather-light kiss against his inner thigh, and his entire body tensed as the buzz of desire in his gut threatened to overtake him. Simon’s hand faltered on his cock, and Jace reached down and wrapped his hand around it, showing him how he liked it to carry him over the edge.

“Do it Simon, I’m so close, baby, please, please, I can’t, I need—”

Simon let out a strangled rasp that sounded like Jace’s name, and then there was a sharp pinch in his thigh. Jace gasped; it hurt, but just as quickly the pain faded into the blunt edge of pleasure, wrapping around him, soaking down into his bones. His orgasm was like a punch to the gut in the best way, and as Simon took a long pull from his thigh, he spiraled higher and higher until it felt like time stopped.

It started again when he felt Simon’s fangs pull out of his skin, and Simon’s high-pitched gasps filled the room. He was light-headed, nearly dizzy, still coming down from the high of one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever had, and when he looked down Simon was kissing over the marks he’d left, licking them clean.

“Come up here,” Jace croaked, and Simon was instantly next to him, wrapping his arms around him.

“Are you okay?” Simon’s voice was worried, and he was cupping Jace’s face, staring at him like he was checking him for wounds. “I didn’t take too much?”

“No,” Jace said, reaching up to touch Simon’s hair. It was so soft, and he was suddenly sad he hadn’t buried his fingers in it when Simon was between his legs. “I feel fucking amazing.”

Simon grinned, leaning down to rest his forehead against Jace’s. “So do I,” he whispered. “You tasted so good. In every way.” He sidled up fully against Jace, tangling their legs together, and in his daze, Jace noticed he wasn’t hard anymore.

“Did you come again?” Jace asked, and Simon looked away sheepishly. Jace was sure he would be blushing if he could.

“Like I said,” Simon pressed a soft kiss to Jace’s mouth, and the tangy, metallic taste of Jace’s blood in Simon’s mouth really shouldn’t be hot, “you tasted really good.” Simon was trembling against Jace, clutching at him, and Jace clutched right back. “That was so—”

“Intense.” Jace maneuvered them so Simon was half-laying on top of Jace, and pulled the duvet over them. “Probably shouldn’t do that too often,” he said, though he really wanted to. Even with his angel blood to protect him from getting addicted, he could already tell that Simon’s bite would be more than enough to push any boundary.

Simon tensed against him, and Jace automatically pulled him in a little closer. “You mean,” Simon started, paused, and then continued, “like the sex part? Or just the blood… part?”

Jace exhaled against Simon’s forehead, his hair lightly fluttering with his breath. There was no way this would be a one-time thing—at least, not if Simon didn’t want it to be. He’d figured it out before his cock had gotten into Simon’s mouth, but now that he’d experienced it, now that he knew what Simon sounded like when he came and what it was like to have all that nerd focus placed squarely on him, he wouldn’t be able to live without it.

“The blood part,” he said, and Simon relaxed. “The sex part we should repeat. Frequently.”

He felt Simon’s grin against his neck, and he turned his head down as Simon angled his up, meeting him in a kiss. “We can add it to our training,” Simon said.

Jace hummed, imagining Alec’s reaction if he walked into the training room at the wrong time. “We may have to rethink our training schedule. It’s going to be hard to keep our focus on the work after—”

“I sucked your brains out through your—”

“—I gave you the best orgasms of your life.”

Simon snorted, but Jace noticed he didn’t protest. Jace turned out the bedside lamp, and they lay there in silence for a few moments, listening to the wind whistle outside. Jace ran a hand lazily up and down Simon’s back as Simon settled more deeply into Jace’s side. Eventually, Jace asked the question that had been rolling around in his head since Simon had nestled up close to him.

“So you think you’ll freak out in the morning? I only ask because it’ll be good to know in advance.” He forced his body to stay relaxed as he waited for Simon’s response. He knew that while things felt warm and safe in the darkness of his bedroom, things could look entirely different to Simon in the morning light.

Simon’s arm curled around him, and he shifted so he was laying on his side, sharing Jace’s pillow. Beneath the covers, their legs tangled together.

“No,” he said. “I’ll only freak out if you do. Do you have any plans for that in the morning?”

Jace grinned. Really, he hoped this whole smiling thing didn’t become a habit. He had a reputation to protect. “My only plans for the morning include finding a fun way to wake you up. And then maybe breakfast.”

Simon smiled, his hand caressing up and down Jace’s waist. “I am fully on board with any fun plans you come up with. And breakfast, too. If I’m uh—invited to that. Not to assume—”

“Simon.” Jace caught his hand, intertwining their fingers together. “I’d love for you to come to breakfast with me. If we’re doing this, we may as well make it known.”

Simon’s smile somehow got so bright Jace was surprised it didn’t light up the entire room. “So we are? Doing this? You and me?”

Jace shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, if you want. If you don’t think we’ll kill each other and it won’t be too distracting to our training and our work and—”

“Oh it’ll be completely distracting. And we will totally try to kill each other.” Simon squeezed his hand, pressing in close enough for a kiss. “But it’ll be worth it.”

Jace kissed him again, dropping his hand so he could wrap his arm around Simon, slide his fingers into his soft hair and cradle him close. “Yeah,” he whispered against his mouth, “I think it will be.”

~~~

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

A Shift In Perspective

For @sivan325 To Sivan: I was thrilled to receive your prompts; hurt/comfort, self-harm, hurt Alec, angst, and self-esteem issues are some of my favourite things to write. I tried to do my best at a misunderstanding/ miscommunication for you as well! Hopefully you enjoy this, and thank you so much for allowing me to write for you <3

Summary: Jace and Magnus remind Alec that, though their relationship may not be perfect, they will always love him for exactly who he is.

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Alec gritted his teeth and sank his fist into the punching bag again, closing his eyes against the jolt of pain that raced up his wrist. He knew without needing to see them that his eyes were dark and stormy, his posture rigid. He needed to blow off some steam. He’d never be able to get any work done if he didn’t deal with the emotions that had become like a cement block in his chest.

Stupid.

Alec punched again.

Blue-black memories, like bruises, invaded Alec’s mind as he worked the punching bag over, and he fought hard to push them away. Jace’s words had hurt, and Alec hated that he was reacting this way over something so stupid. And then when Magnus hadn’t done anything? Hadn’t tried to speak to him afterwards or comfort him? Well, Alec hardly had a choice but to feel that he was the problem.

So what if Jace and Magnus wanted to spend time with each other, alone? Away from Alec? Jace had been right when they’d spoken about it that morning; Alec was a buzzkill, and he could hardly blame Magnus for wanting to take Jace to Pandemonium and have fun in ways that Alec would never be able to really enjoy.

So fucking what.

Alec couldn’t believe he was hurt and upset over a few simple words; over a truthful rendition of his character and what kinds of things he would like. He should be grateful that his boyfriends weren’t asking him to go; he knew and they knew that he would hate trying to party with Jace and Magnus. He just wasn’t like them.

Alec bit his lip against the sudden onslaught of tears that stung at his eyes, and delivered another bone-crushing punch to the bag in front of him. That was the heart of it, he knew; he was upset because he knew that, compared to Jace, Alec had nothing to offer Magnus, and compared to Magnus, he had nothing to offer Jace. He was the odd one out, all the time. And he couldn’t exactly blame them. He wasn’t fun, or adventurous, or outgoing. He was boring. Jace had certainly said it enough times to him for the words to sink their claws in.

A fine tremor erupted in Alec’s hands at the thought, or maybe as a result of the abuse he was putting them through, and he took a shaky breath, trying to resist the urge to cry. He needed to deal with this. His hurt wasn’t valid, he knew; Jace hadn’t been wrong when he had called Alec a buzzkill, and explained that he and Magnus would have more fun without him. But that didn’t change the pool of pain that curled in his stomach as he threw another punch.

“Alec?”

The voice came from the doorway to the training room, and Alec whirled around to see Jace, standing in the silhouette of the entryway with his arms folded across his chest. Behind him, Alec caught sight of Magnus, waiting and twisting his rings nervously. They looked worried, and Jace looked almost sheepish.

“What do you want?” Alec replied, swallowing hard to force his voice to sound steady and controlled.

“I – uh – I came to apologise,” Jace said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He lifted his head to meet Alec’s gaze, and there was sincerity in them. Alec softened a little. “I think what I said this morning might have hurt you. Am I right?”

Alec nodded, the movement miniscule and meek. He felt stupid. Jace’s words hadn’t been untrue, and he had always asked his partners to be honest with him. If he couldn’t handle the truth, then he was weaker than he’d thought.

Jace moved further into the training room, Magnus trailing behind him, stopping a few feet away from Alec. He looked like he wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure how the gesture would be received. Alec’s heart ached. He hated feeling any sort of distance between them.

Jace cleared his throat and, reaching for Magnus’s hand in a movement that looked almost unconscious, began: “I’m sorry, Alec. I didn’t think about how that might make you feel. I, uh – ” Jace broke off, dropping his gaze to the floor. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame. “I know you don’t always think too highly of yourself, and you have no idea how sorry I am that I might have contributed to that, uh. That thought process.” He ran one anxious hand through his golden blonde locks, and Alec shifted on his feet, trying to relax his posture to make Jace feel more at ease. “I didn’t mean to imply that Magnus and I don’t think you’re fun to hang out with, or that we don’t want to spend time with you. That wasn’t what I meant at all. Can I – would it be okay if I explained to you what I did mean?”

Alec nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

Jace smiled, a tiny, hopeful flicker of warmth, and said, “What I meant was – I didn’t want to force you into a situation where I know you would be uncomfortable.” He shot a quick glance back at Magnus. “Neither of us do.” He gave Alec a hesitating look, unsure, and asked, “What, um, what specifically hurt you about what I said? Did I not choose my words right, or did you assume something different than what I meant, or – ?”

Alec swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, blinking back the stubborn remnants of tears at Jace’s words, and replied, “You were pretty much right with what you said at first. I just thought – I thought you meant that you and Magnus would rather hang out with each other than with me. That I was too boring, or, or not fun to be around.”

Speaking the words aloud made a flush rise to Alec’s cheeks; Raziel, he sounded stupid.

Jace’s expression fell, and to the side, Alec saw Magnus’s face crumble a bit, too. “That’s not at all what I meant,” Jace said vehemently, and Alec watched as tears welled up in his eyes, making the heterochromatic irises glassy with emotion. “Magnus and I love spending time with you, Alec. The only reason we didn’t invite you to go to Pandemonium tonight was because we didn’t think you would enjoy it. We know you don’t like crowds, or loud music, and we don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation. I-I never meant to make you feel like that, parabatai. I was teasing you, and I should have stopped and recognised the signs that you were upset. I’m sorry, Alec.”

“It’s okay,” Alec replied, exhaling hard. It felt like the weight of a thousand worlds had been lifted from his shoulders. “I just – I don’t know. Thank you for explaining and apologising.”

“Of course,” Jace replied strongly. “I would never hurt you on purpose, Alec, and I’m sorry that I did at all.”

“It’s okay,” Alec repeated, and he crossed the small space between them to pull Jace into a tight hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t communicate well with you. I should have told you I was upset instead of letting it go. I’m sorry.”

Jace hummed in acknowledgement of the apology, running his fingers through Alec’s dark hair. A second hand joined it soon, and Magnus’s voice began a litany of “Shhh, angel” and other soothing phrases. Alec relaxed into Jace’s arms, blanketed by Magnus on his other side, and allowed a few tears to escape. He was safe here.

“I’m sorry, too,” Magnus murmured into Alec’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed patch of skin there. “I should have recognised that you were hurting. I shouldn’t have let you leave this morning without checking on you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Alec mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of Jace’s t-shirt. “You had no way of knowing. I didn’t express myself clearly.” He felt Magnus nod behind him, and then a second set of arms were joining Jace’s around his waist. Alec exhaled hard and relaxed into the double-sided embrace.

This is where I belong.

“I love you both,” Magnus spoke up, echoing Alec’s and Jace’s thoughts.

“We love you too,” Jace replied, and Alec hummed in agreement. He really did.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, simply savoring the love and warmth that came from being so close to each other after such an emotional moment. Eventually, though, Alec broke the silence, clearing his throat. He forced his hands to still from where they were locked around Jace’s waist; he had no reason to be nervous. He could do this.

“Um – if it’s alright with you – do you think you could skip going to Pandemonium tonight and just do something for the three of us? Like a movie night or something? I don’t mind if you go another night, just maybe – I don’t know – I was hoping tonight we could stay together.”

Magnus leaned forward to press a kiss to Alec’s cheek at the same time Jace sealed his lips in a kiss, and he smiled, melting at the attention. Raziel, he had the best boyfriends in the world. “Of course we can,” Magnus answered, and Jace nodded, their foreheads touching as their lips parted. “I think we all feel the same way, Alexander, that tonight should just be for the three of us.”

“Okay,” Alec exhaled with relief. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us, my darling. We would do anything for you.” Jace echoed the sentiment with a small hum of agreement. Alec smiled and leaned back into Magnus’s arms, giving Jace’s side a small squeeze, relaxing into the comfort – the security – the love. I love you.

Jace responded by squeezing Alec’s hand tightly, and Magnus pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone. Alec knew what they were saying without the words: We love you too.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

The Winner Takes It All

For @jesssssah For Jessa - I hope you'll like what I did with your prompts! It was a challenge but I had so much fun writing this, so I really hope you'll have fun reading it too!

Summary: Jace and Magnus enter a cooking reality TV show with the sole focus on winning. Both of them have their very own reason for wanting to do so. Jace needs the money to start his own business, Magnus needs something to fill the emptiness in his life. Amidst their contenders, and nearly against their will, they find something even more precious than the prize money and the pretty golden trophy that await the winner. A Jagnus Cooking Show AU

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Jace has to admit he’s a little nervous. He never fathomed to be starring in a TV Show, but here he is. Contestant in Boss Chef, the latest cooking show the US adapted from the UK. He has never really liked to watch reality TV, he simply doesn’t see the point in watching others do ordinary things, knowing it’s partially scripted anyway. He doesn’t see much point in watching TV in general.

Mostly TV only shows a world he’s never able to have anyway. Full of glamor, friends, and family he doesn’t have nor is likely to get. Books, somehow, are different. Books are a window into a better world where he can picture himself , maybe because the protagonists of books seem vaguer with no pre-set physics. And there are more internal thoughts he can relate to. Maybe it’s only because he’s used to reading books from an early age on, as opposed to watching TV, as they didn’t possess one in his early childhood.

Jace grew up remote and lonely, son to a single father who had very strict ideas of how a child should be brought up. Or how that child had to behave. He never met his mother, he only knows that she ran off with his father’s best friend, taking her unborn daughter with her but leaving her already born toddler, him, behind. He learned soon that it was best to not ask any questions about her, just as he learned that it was best to obey his father and make him happy.

His father didn’t believe in toys or school, he found school taught the wrong things and toys only distracted a child. He believed in a classical education like playing the piano and being fluent in Latin and ancient Greek. He believed in reading the classics, and those were the books Jace grew up with and came to like. A harsh contrast to today’s reality TV.

At least his father believed in teaching his son to survive, and thus how to cook. Over the years, even after his father’s sudden death and after he got sucked into the US foster system, Jace learned to perfect this skill. He loves to experiment with what he has, add a new spice here, a new, unexpected ingredient there, and create something new from scratch with simple means.  It’s the type of cooking he enjoys the most. He’s not the one for chichi, gold on meat or anything alike. He likes it simple but with a twist. He still likes to use the plain, basic ingredients he was used to from his childhood, where they were more or less self-supporters.

But his love for cooking is also the reason why he’s nervous now. Why he is the contestant of a cooking reality show. Though the world tried its best to crush his dreams from early on, Jace never stopped dreaming. And over the time, as he came into his early twenties, he realized that his dream is to cook. Not only for himself, but for others. At the same time, he  realized that he’s not born to cook in a kitchen, under a chef with the pressure to abide to a stupid pecking order.

Though his father tried his best to make him obedient to rules, in the end it had the opposite effect. Jace loves to break rules, and that’s not a good thing in a kitchen that is usually ruled by a chef with an iron fist. Jace was yelled at so many times as a child, he’s done being yelled at for his entire life. And that’s why he needs money to start his own business. That’s why he needs to participate in the damn cooking show. That’s why he needs to win. 250.000 US dollars, the winning prize, would help him make that dream come true.

As soon as Jace sees the cameras and the moderator turn to him, Jace swallows down his nervousness and plasters a cocky smile on his face. A smile he knows works, as he tried it countless times in bars or clubs, and it always brought him the desired result. The favor of a girl or boy, a dance, a drink, or a bed for the night to forget his loneliness. He knows how he looks and how to play it. And he also knows how important in reality shows that is. Looks. A charming attitude. Or a tragic backstory. But he’s determined to keep his past exactly there, in the past. He doesn’t have the slightest wish to drag it out in the open and have it examined by a whole country. Therefore, he will give them the next best thing.

He leans a little forward to answer the moderator’s question, making sure to make eye contact, adding a suggestive wink at the end of his turn. He’s pleased when he sees the faint blush on the man’s face, realizing that his charm also works in the light of a camera. He’s also pleased that he didn’t stumble over his words like some of the other contestants did. He did well, and he knows it. The audience will love or hate him and his cockiness, but he doesn’t mind either. Strong emotions are good, they’ll keep him in the show. This and his skills of course. Skills he doesn’t doubt for a second.

The moderator moves on to interview the next person, a little mean appearing man named Victor Aldertree who seems to be in his early forties. Jace concedes that Victor hasn’t much going for him besides his glare and his beard, therefore he takes in the other participants. Of course it’s not easy to judge from the few moments they already spent together, but Jace isn’t afraid of them. Beside Mean Victor, there’s a tiny red-head who tried to make doe-eyes towards him from the start, doe-eyes that he equally ignored from the start. There's a boy who doesn’t look older than fifteen but claims to be in his late twenties and doesn’t manage to complete one sentence without blushing. Andrew something, if Jace is not mistaken. There are some others Jace can’t remember, but he figures they’re all no match to him, except one. There’s also Magnus Bane. Who definitely is someone to put gold on meat, just for the looks.

Begrudgingly, Jace has to admit that Magnus looks dazzling. He wears clothes that could and probably would look ridiculous on most people, but look striking on him. Leather pants that are too tight, but Magnus has the legs to wear them. A jacket with more buckles than Jace’s biker boots, which oddly matches the glittery, golden shirt that is either made of silk or cheap polyester, but given the rest of Magnus’ aura, Jace assumes it’s real silk.

Magnus styled his hair in small spikes and put so much glitter on his cheeks and eyes that Jace wonders if little girls have already complained about a glitter shortage. But the glitter does make his eyes spark more intensely, and it does put emphasis on his high cheekbones, the firmly set jaw, not to mention his plush lips. All totally irrelevant things. What is a little less irrelevant, is the outspoken confidence Magnus wears alongside all the glitter and buckles. It’s the sort of confidence Jace experienced to be there because there’s something to back it up. If Jace needed to say who’s most likely to win this show, it’d be Magnus. After him, of course.

A laugh peals from Magnus’ lips. He’s relaxed, enjoying the audience he’s getting. He knows he looks awesome, and he knows he has the moderator wrapped around his little finger. He’s been looking forward to the first interviews of all contestants since the day he got the admission to the show. And now he’s here, he sure as hell will sparkle and shine.

He doesn’t necessarily need the money he’ll win at the end of the show. He inherited quite a lot when his biological father died a couple of years back. A father he met only briefly, as he was raised by another man and his mother. Then his mother took her life and his stepfather put all the blame on him. That’s when his path briefly crossed the one of his biological father, Asmodeus, but after a period of time in which Magnus was flattered by his father’s wealth and power, Magnus discovered that Asmodeus was not a good man. So he fled to never look back.

He’d been rather surprised when an administrator contacted him and informed him about his father’s death, and that he was the sole heir of Asmodeus’ private fortune as well as Asmodeus’ Industries, a huge construct of different businesses and firms. As Magnus had and has no idea how to run such a company, he hired people he can trust to do that for him. A wise decision. And it left him with enough money to make every dream he ever had come true.

But in the end, it also left him a little bored. And weary of other people’s intentions. He can have everything money can buy, and that attracted people who were just there for that. He gave away his heart and got it back broken, when he found his now-ex in bed with another man. Friends were only friends as long as he gave. Therefore he learned to build a wall around his heart to make the betrayal of all sorts bearable.

And it worked. But it’s also lef him lonely and yearning for something, that’s why he’s here. He loves the thrill the cameras provide, he loves the adrenaline that cooking against others and being judged by real pros will bring. And he loves winning, he always did. Anything else is out of the question for him.

The other contestants don’t seem a threat to him. They’re too dull, too nervous, or too unskilled, or a combination of them, to be a threat. All but one. Jace Wayland, or was it Herondale? He frankly can’t remember, but the first name stuck. It’s a ridiculous name, if it even is a real name. Probably a nickname of some kind.

Jace is wearing biker boots, faded washed-out jeans with cuts, a simple white tee, and a used biker jacket. An outfit absolutely not suitable for a television show, if it didn’t emphasize his thigh muscles and his firm ass in a rather favorable manner. Not to speak of his biceps and delicate collar bones. Or to mention that ridiculous tattoo gracing his neck. But what annoys Magnus for real is the cocky smile the blond wears with a lot of bravado and confidence. It’s that kind of smile Magnus really wants to… cook off his face, Magnus reins himself and his unhelpful mind that tries to escape towards the gutter sternly in. Definitely cook off his face, and not another four letter word.

Today is the first real cooking test for the participants. The so-called skill test, which means they need to perform a certain cooking task to perfection. If they fail, it’s the first and the last test for them. It’s not something Jace is particularly looking forward to, he likes the creative part of cooking rather than following a certain procedure by the books, but he also doesn’t mind.

He hasn’t enjoyed a formal education, but he knows his stuff. When he hears what he has to do, a victorious smile spreads over his face. He has to grill a one-inch porterhouse steak to medium-rare, which seems a rather basic task but isn’t that easy in reality.

But it’s a task he has done from early childhood on, his father had made sure to hammer the lecture about the different states of grilling a steak home by punishing him each time he failed to master one. And today won’t be a day to fail. Today, he’ll excel.

Jace prepares carefully the items he needs. The meat is of a high quality, but he didn’t expect otherwise. The first thing he does is to retrieve the steak from the fridge and place it on his cooking station. Meat doesn’t like to be put onto a hot grill when still cold, something Jace can oddly relate to. The meat needs time to warm up.

Jace takes a brief second to look around. He has to admit that the huge kitchen area which is overlooked by a balcony and several cameras so that the audience behind the screens won’t miss a thing is equipped nicely. Each contestant has their own dedicated cooking station with pans, pots, knives, and everything a cook’s heart desires. The pantry is well stocked and, depending on the challenge, accessible for everyone, as is the fridge. The huge dining area is used to serve the dishes to the judges when it comes to surviving another round.

The only thing which is really tricky is that he’s not used to the grill he has to use. How quickly it heats up, how well it holds the temperature, those kinds of things. But he’ll manage. When he places the meat on the grill, he doesn’t look on a watch. He doesn’t need a thermometer. He has a good gut feeling of these things and relies on it rather than on gadgets.

When the sides are well browned, and the top and bottom are caramelized to a mouth-watering dark brown color, Jace checks the surface. He nods satisfied when it gives a little towards the middle, springing back quickly. His steak is ready. Perfectly medium rare.

When the judges cut the steak, he’s proven right. The meat is of the desired pink color with just a hint of red. And it’s warm through the middle, as the judge states pleased. Jace passes with flying colors. Mean Victor, the annoying redhead, Blushing Andrew and of course Magnus Bane pass too, but two contestants are sent home for poor performance (or complete lack of personality, or both). But Jace cannot bring himself to fake pity for them or claim that he’s sad that they go. He never understands why people do that. They’re here to be the last, why would he mourn the loss of his rivals? He’s glad for everyone who goes. His stand might lose him points with the audience, but Jace isn’t here to make new friends.

When the surviving contestants gather to hear the new task, Jace is curious to know what it is. He’s watched the UK version of the show for reference, and there were some tasks that recurred, but often each season also had a special one. He really hopes that the mystery box, where each of them have to cook a meal from a box with predefined ingredients, will happen here too. It’s one of the tasks he’s really looking forward to. It really proves who can cook and doesn’t need to rely on fancy specials to make a good impression.

When the judge announces what their next task is, Jace has to quickly plaster his smile back on his face. It’s one the UK version has never featured so far, and Jace really hates his fortune that the US now thinks it’s a great idea to start with it. It’s a team challenge where they are gathered into several groups who have to take over a pop-up restaurant. They have to replace the normal staff working there and create dinner for the guests. The guests are allowed to vote, and the team that performs worst is sent home.

It’s not that Jace doesn’t like teamwork. In fact, he doesn’t mind teamwork. As long as the team does what he says, which is admittedly not often the case. And that’s the part Jace doesn’t like about teamwork.

His smile falters a second time when he hears with whom he’s teamed up with. Mean Victor and the redhead. Maybe at least the redhead will listen to him, as she seems so keen to make an impression on him and get to know him. But something tells him she’ll think she knows everything better. Maybe he needs to start calling her by her name, Clarissa. Maybe.

As quickly as Jace can, Jace escapes to the hotel all contestants are staying in. They are caged in one hotel to prevent them from getting side-tracked and can focus on the show, at least it’s what the producing company told them. Jace suspects it’s more to stir up drama when the participants see each other constantly. At least they got their own rooms and don’t have to share a youth hostel like he’s seen in one of the ridiculous topmodel shows every single country seems to have.

Jace doesn’t smoke often, but sometimes he does. It soothes his nerves and makes him pleasantly dizzy. He leans against the wall outside of the hotel, in the smoking corner the hotel generously provides for its guests. The cigarette glows reddish when he lights it, and it’s a relaxing sight. Not so relaxing is the voice that interrupts the quietness of his thoughts.

“Smoking isn’t good for your taste buds.” Magnus steps closer, deliberately choosing to lean against the wall next to Jace. Over the few days since the production started, he had to admit that he finds the blond increasingly interesting.

“Do tell,” Jace replies, flipping the ashes from his cigarette. “Want one?” he asks, already fishing his crumbled package out of his pocket.

Magnus eyes the package suspiciously, before shaking his head. He reaches for a small, golden etui inside his fancy jacket that has again more buckles than Jace ever thought possible of being attached to a jacket. Red rubies blink briefly in the light of his own cigarette when Magnus opens the etui to take one cigarette out.

If it were anyone but Magnus, Jace would think the gold and the rubies are fake. With Magnus, he’s not so sure. It’s probably real. Jace huffs when Magnus produces an equally golden lighter out of his pocket to light his cigarette. He even spots a red ruby on the lighter.

“Snob,” Jace mutters, which makes Magnus pause for a second.

“Fair point,” he concedes, “but life’s too short to spend with ugly things. Apropos ugly, happy with the teammates?”

Jace just snorts. “If I wanted to torture the guests at the pop-up restaurant, I probably would be. Victor always looks like he’s going to stab someone soon, and that he’ll enjoy every second of it. And Clarissa…”

“Looks like she wants to eat you alive. I have noticed. Not your type?” Magnus asks in sympathy.

“Nope. Not at all. What about you?”

“Also not my type,” Magnus says which earns him another snort. “I’ve got Andrew. Always looks like he can’t find his own ass with both hands and an atlas.”

Jace huffs out a laugh, nearly choking on the smoke. “That’s the most accurate description of him I’ve heard so far. And the other?”

Magnus shrugs, making a vague motion with his hands. “Sebastian and then something French sounding. Seems like he’s a contestant in a lookalike for you.”

Jace laughs outright now. “Well, he’s not winning this one. I look way better.”

“That you do,” Magnus says with a wink, pleased when he sees a faint pink flush covering Jace’s cheeks at the compliment. “Well, he’s also not winning any cooking contests. But he’ll survive the next round. If he does what I say.”

And something in Magnus’ voice tells Jace Magnus will make sure of it.

“ Teamwork,” Jace mutters in a way that sounds a lot like an insult.

“I don’t mind teamwork,” Magnus says with a chuckle, “as long as everyone does what I say.”

They both look at each, both grinning when they see mischief and agreement dancing in the other’s eyes. Despite Jace’s best efforts not to, he realizes that he starts to like Magnus.

Later that day

Magnus rubs tiredly over his face while waiting for the elevator to bring him to his room. The team challenge had been exhausting, just as he’d expected. And they had ended up nearly getting kicked out of the show, something that still stings. And even though he thought their guests were particularly hard to please, they had a point in their criticism. They hadn’t worked well as a team. They could have done better. If the others had listened. Which they only had in the end, but at least not too late - the dessert they served, a chocolate peanut butter bar with vanilla ice cream, had saved them.

And it’s done now. They survived, they move on, and on his own Magnus is sure he’ll have no problems acing the next tasks thrown at him. But for now he’s glad when he’s back in his room and can huddle up under his comfy blanket and forget for a moment that he needs to return into a kitchen and be his usual dazzling self in about eight hours.

He doesn’t need to look around to know who’s approaching, the confident steps and the swagger that evaporates from every clang of heels tell him enough. Jace. Of course he and his team excelled in the task and got rated with the highest marks of the round. Though Magnus is rather sure the good perception had a lot to do with Victor wielding some knives in front of the guests, radiating stabbing energy to everyone who dared to voice criticism, as much as it had with a good performance.

“Heard you all had trouble finding it,” Jace says with a smug smile before he edges past Magnus to enter the elevator that just arrived with a loud ping first.

“Finding what?” Magnus asks gruffly. He steps in after Jace, who leans casually against the mirror, a foot rested comfortably against it, his hair ruffled, a spark in his eyes, and Magnus really doesn’t want to start thinking about that smile he carries.

“Finding your asses.” Jace grins at him innocently, the innocence contradicted by the suggestively raised eyebrow and the words he says next. “Maybe you’ll need a hand next time?”

Magnus just glares at him, too tired to come up with a witty comeback, a fact that annoys him definitely more than the teasing itself. “I think that’s you,” is all he says when the elevator comes to a stop at the fifth floor with a ping.

“I thought we were all accommodated on the same floor?” Jace asks somewhat perplexed when Magnus doesn’t move to step out himself.

“I guess only the ones who’ll they suspect to leave early,” Magnus mutters his weak and late response to Jace’s teasing, pressing the button to the seventh floor where the suites are located. A suite he paid for himself, of course. Thankfully the door closes quickly, but not quickly enough so that he doesn’t hear Jace’s next words that sound a lot like snobbish bastard.

Magnus sighs, allowing himself a small, pleased smile. He doesn’t know why, but he enjoys riling Jace up a little. And he even enjoys it when Jace does the same to him. Maybe this part even a little more, as it’s been a long time since anyone dared to challenge him, and even longer since he allowed it to happen.

Jace is still buzzing with the win yesterday. He knows it doesn’t have an effect on how things will unfold in the future, but it has been an amazing feeling to come in first place. He had to admit that his heart had stopped a moment when he had realized how badly Magnus had fared, but it had started beating again when Magnus’ team was saved in the last minute by the dessert they dished out. All in all, yesterday couldn’t have gone better. He doesn’t want Magnus to be forced out too soon, it’s too much fun to see him scowl when he wins. And the second to last place might teach him a little humbleness, though Jace doubts it.

Jace stands at his cooking station, bouncing up and down on the balls of his foot. He hates these minutes where he has to wait until the judges finally explain the task of the day. Of course it’s deliberately done to keep them all on edge. The moderators are masters in dragging the inevitable out as long as they can, putting fingers in the wounds of the people having not performed well the last few days, trying to hype the people who did to make them reckless. But this doesn’t work with Jace. He’s buzzing, but he’s also contained. He knows how to focus.

“I am sure you are all curious to know what your next task will be.” Finally the judge of the day takes over.

“You bet we do,” Jace mutters very quietly, but the smirk he gets from Magnus, who occupies the cooking station two places apart from him, tells Jace that he might have not been quiet enough.

At least the judge hasn’t heard it, or at least he pretends he hasn’t. “Your next task,” the judge pauses to take a deep breath, “ is the mystery box! It means you will all get a box with ingredients, and you have an hour to create something with them! We want a two-course-meal, so you can decide if you do a starter and a main dish, or a main dish and dessert. The hour starts now!” The judge claps excitedly in his hands.

Excitement Jace can share. He hoped that the mystery box would be part of the American version too. He’s good at coming up with tasty meals from the things he gets, it’s the way he learned to cook. He never dared to demand anything special from his father, so he always made do with what his father bought, or their garden provided.

Jace takes a moment to assess what the mystery box the assistant placed on his kitchen counter has to offer. There’s no meat in it, but that doesn’t particularly bother Jace. He’s not of the opinion that every main dish has to contain meat.

There’s cauliflower in the box, pomegranate, red onions, sesame paste, several seeds, mint leaves, cashews. Spices and things like olive oil they are allowed to take from the pantry. Jace stares a moment longer at the ingredients as slowly a plan is starting to form. He’ll turn the cauliflower into the main dish. He’ll marinate it with oil and salt and pre-roast it. In the meantime he’ll prepare a miso glaze which he’ll put on top of the cauliflower before letting it roast for the rest of time. When it’s fully done, he’ll put the pomegranate seeds, sesame seeds, caramelized cashews and red onion and some fresh chili as the final touch. It might sound a little wild, but he’s sure the sweetness of the pomegranates together with the miso glaze will go perfectly with the hotness of the chili and underline the flavor of the cauliflower.

When the judge first announced the task, Jace had been sure that he’ll go for a starter instead of dessert, and the ingredients he has left prove him right. He’ll prepare an eggplant masala with tomatoes, garlic and ginger for the spice and fresh coriander for the looks and taste. But first he has to start off with the cauliflower to get it nice and soft.

He rinses the vegetable briefly before applying some tablespoons of olive oil and adding several dashes of sea salt. He wraps it tightly into foil before placing it in the oven and setting a timer for twenty-five minutes. This should be enough for a cauliflower this size and it leaves him enough time to prepare the miso glaze and the eggplant masala.

Jace works quickly and efficiently, chopping the needed herbs and vegetables with skilled ease. Nevertheless, he feels the time pressure. One hour is not a lot to prepare two complete dishes, even though he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t bother much with cleaning up behind himself, there’s no time for that. He knows he would have gotten a punishment from his father for leaving such a mess, but now he doesn’t care that some spots on his apron are telling witnesses of the dishes he’s preparing.

When the timer sets off, Jace quickly jumps over to the ovens, which are stationed a little separate from the cooking spots. He grabs the oven mitts and pulls the baking tray out. He unwraps the foil to see if it is pre-roasted enough.

“God damnit,” Jace curses when in his haste his wrist connects with the hot tray. “Fuck,” he adds for good measure when the burning pain fully enfolds. It’s not his first burn and probably also not his last, but it always hurts like a bitch.

At least the damn cauliflower is as it should be.

“Here,” he suddenly hears a voice beside him. “You look like you could need a hand,” Magnus says with a wink, a statement that would leave Jace flustered all over and pissed if Magnus wouldn't hold a cooling ice pack in his hand.

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking the pack out of his hand and brushing accidentally against Magnus’ fingers, a touch that makes them both lock eyes. Jace presses the pack to his aching wrist, holding eye contact the whole time until Magnus breaks it with another wink. Jace looks after Magnus who strolls back to his cooking station as if he has all the time in the world. Of course his place is spotless, and so is Magnus. His apron is as white as a bride’s dress. Bastard. Jace manages to drag his eyes off of Magnus and onto his vegetable again. Miso glaze. He needs to apply the glaze and put the thing back into the oven for another few minutes. Preferably without wounds this time.

Jace rubs exhaustedly over his forehead with the back of his hand. He managed to dish out his two courses just in time, and the judges are happy when they examine it. He passes another round, and so does Magnus. And of course there are others he doesn’t care about that pass too. He’s happy, but he’s also tired, and his wrist is still throbbing.

“We have a special surprise for someone today,” the moderator announces, thrilled, after the judges told the last contestant to pack up his things and leave.

Jace frowns. He learned to dislike surprises, as they never meant something good.

“Jace, are you ready for an extra life interview?” The moderator beams at Jace, and he is rather sure that it’s a hypothetical question. So he nods and smiles the cockiest smile he can manage. Even though he’s not ready. He doesn’t want to be surprised, but he steps towards the moderator anyway, while all others are allowed to leave and retreat to the solitude of their hotel rooms and watch him getting grilled.

Magnus hesitates for a second when he sees the lonely figure slumped into one booth in the hotel bar, his hands curled around an empty glass. But then he gives himself a startle, and goes over to the bar to order two whiskeys. When the waiter passes him the glasses, he strolls over to the man.

Jace doesn’t look up at him, though he must have heard him walk over in the otherwise quiet bar. It’s something that would make a less confident man than Magnus probably turn around, but Magnus has made up his mind. And when he has made up his mind, there are only a few things that can stop him. Being deliberately ignored by someone certainly is none of them.

With gentle fingers he plucks the empty glass out of Jace’s hands and replaces it with a full one. He’s careful not to touch Jace, he doesn’t want to rile him up, not this time. Despite having shared some fun moments with him, he doesn’t exactly know where they stand with each other, but he feels Jace shouldn’t be alone right now. When Jace’s hands curl around the full glass, their fingers touch for a heartbeat. It’s just the ghost of a brush, but it finally makes Jace look up and acknowledge his presence.

Jace lifts his glass in a silent greeting, and Magnus takes the gesture as what he hopes it is, an invitation to sit down. When Jace doesn’t object, he takes a sip from his whiskey, the amber-colored liquid running smoothly down his throat.

“Thanks,” Jace mutters.

“I thought you could use a refill,” Magnus declares, taking another mouthful.

“It’s not exactly a refill when it’s something else, isn’t it?” Jace asks, swirling the remaining whiskey in his glass.

“I suppose it is not. But life’s too short to drink cheap booze.”

“You’re such a snob,” Jace says, but lacking real conviction. “But I’m sure you can afford it. Not everyone has the sad backstory of growing up poor, have they? I’m sure you’ve heard.”

For a moment Magnus contemplates to outright lie and tell Jace that he hasn’t heard, but Jace is not dumb. He probably knows that by now everyone who watches Boss Chef, and probably even a few who don’t, and certainly all participants, know everything about Jace’s past. At least what the producers decided to drag into the open.

“They had no right doing this. I’m sorry it happened,” Magnus says with a serene voice, signaling the waiter to bring two more glasses.

“Yeah, well. Me too.”

For a moment their eyes lock before Jace averts his gaze and stares into his now empty glass and it leaves Magnus wondering if Jace means he’s sorry that his past was being revealed, or his past happening. Probably both. At least he feels like that.

“You know, when I signed up, I thought that they’ll maybe pick up the story with my father. The way he brought me up, his death, the foster system. Things like that. I never suspected they would go find my mother and ask her why she left me behind. Apparently, I was an evil kid.”

Jace accepts the full glass with a nod when Magnus pushes it towards him. They probably shouldn’t drink so much, given tomorrow is elimination day. But he can’t bring himself to care right now.

Magnus shifts in his seat, and he accidentally brushes against Jace’s thigh. But when the other doesn’t withdraw, neither does he. He keeps his leg where it is, not pressing against Jace, merely leaning against him, but enough so that they both feel it.

“You weren’t evil, Jace. You were just a toddler when she left, and no toddler is evil. Maybe you had a bit of a temper, maybe you did destroy her flowers - but that’s not a reason to leave a child behind with a more than questionable father. She’s the evil one. You deserved better.”

Jace is silent for a while, sucking at his bottom lip before he answers. “What would you know?”

Now it’s Magnus’ turn to grow silent. He knows more than he likes to know. About mothers who think their kids are evil. He knows that his mother had been mentally ill. It still hurts. It still hurts that she left him in the most final way to leave someone. It wasn’t her fault. But it also wasn’t his, a fact that took Magnus a long time to believe, and sometimes he isn’t fully sure he’s gotten to that point already. The blame his stepfather put on him didn’t help, nor did the fact that he discovered his biological dad was in fact what his and Jace’s mother claimed their children were. Evil. Asmodeus was an evil man who tried to coerce him into following in his footsteps.

“More than you know,” Magnus whispers. “My mother killed herself and blamed me for doing so. As did my stepdad. And I, for a long time.” He’s not entirely sure why he confides in Jace, he hasn’t voiced this to anyone besides his therapist for a very long time. It’s not to get pity, he doesn’t need that.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Jace’s voice is firm, and it makes Magnus look at him. Their eyes lock, and the fire he sees in Jace’s eyes makes him nod. And suddenly he knows why he told Jace. Because he understands, without him having to say much. Jace understands because he’s been through something similar. He felt a similar guilt and pain.

“What was your bio dad like?” Jace asks, guiding the glass to his lips. The ice cubes cling softly against each other as Magnus takes his time to answer. He’s glad that he chose to come here to sit next to Jace. He’s glad to still feel his leg brushing against his.

“He’s the one who was evil,” he finally says. “Well, at least he was rich.”

“Fathers, eh?” is all Jace says, but the fact that Jace increases the pressure against his leg tells him enough to know that Jace also understands this. Fathers.

“Are you not afraid they’ll do the same to you?” Jace muses after they’ve been comfortably silent for a while.

“No, I don’t think they will. I give them enough without it.”

“So it’s all a show? The glitter, the free-wheeling bisexual stuff and so on?”

“It is, and it isn’t. I like glamor and glitter. I am bi, and I’m proud of it. But I always found it easier to laugh than to cry. And we know how television works. If they want a story about me, they’ll drag some of my past lovers or orgies I had into the open, things I don’t care about. I give them that, so they’ll leave the things I care about in peace and in the past.”

“Yeah,” Jace murmurs while standing up, swaying just a tiny bit when he does so, “if I’d known I would’ve told them I’m bi too.”

When he stands, the sleeve of his shirt rides up, revealing the angry looking burn mark from the accident with the oven before. Without thinking, Magnus reaches for Jace’s arm to have a better look. He brushes gently over the red mark with his thumb.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” Jace confesses, looking entranced at his wrist and Magnus’ gentle moving thumb.

“This is supposed to help,” Magnus whispers so lowly that Jace nearly doesn’t hear it. He sucks in a breath when out of a sudden he feels Magnus’ soft lips pressing against the burn, placing a chaste kiss to it.

They stare at each other, Magnus still holding Jace’s arm, Jace still standing still, before Jace withdraws his arm the same moment Magnus lets go.

“Thank you.”

Magnus isn’t sure if Jace means the kiss, their talk, or the drinks. Magnus hopes it’s for the first two.

“Good luck for tomorrow, Jace,” he calls after him when Jace is already on his way out of the bar.

Jace turns around, his usual cocky grin in place. “I don’t need luck. I have the skills. But good luck to you, Magnus.”

Bastard, Magnus mutters, but cannot help the smile. Some laugh. Some get cocky. Both are so much easier than to cry.

Several days later

The after party of Boss Chef is in full swing, but Jace doesn’t feel like celebrating. He made the second place, out of twenty contestants. That’s not bad. But neither is it good. Good would have been the first place, the check about 250,000 dollars and the ugly golden trophy. Jace never liked to lose, but to lose the possibility to fulfill his dream of becoming his own master really sucks.

Jace decides to skip the rest of the party which is held at the production studio where they also cooked. The corridors are quiet, everybody is busy getting drunk, getting blown or crawling at Magnus’ feet, who, of course, won. If Jace hears any mention of his delicious slice of chocolate with pistachios and caramelized macadamia nuts served on vanilla ice cream ever again, Jace thinks he’ll punch someone. Maybe Victor would be up for a fight, he looked as sour as Jace felt when the last three places had been announced. Victor third, Jace second and Magnus first.

He doesn’t really begrudge Magnus the victory though, he’s at least glad that it’s him and not Victor. Magnus is good, he’s a worthy winner. But he really wanted to win himself. Jace moves towards the exit. When he walks by the door that leads to the studio where they filmed all the cooking, he pauses for a second but then he presses the handle down. Locked. Jace hesitates another second, but then he fumbles for the paper clip he knows he has in the pocket of his jeans. He learned to pick locks at the age of seven, time to put it to use again.

The lock is no match to Jace’s skills, and a moment later he’s inside. He closes the door behind him carefully. The room is only dimly lit but Jace doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing here, but when he sees that the place is not yet cleaned and the remains of the dishes the last three contestants served are still there, he walks over to Magnus’ place.

There it is. The chocolate slice. The pistachios. The nuts. Only the ice cream is gone, probably stored in the fridge. Or melted in the drain. Jace glares at the dessert that cost him the victory. Desserts have never been his strong suit, and when after the starter and the main dish he was on dead level with Magnus, a bad foreboding bestrode him. A foreboding that had been right.

Jace takes a spoon and digs into the slice. He sucks the chocolate from the spoon, closing his eyes against his will when the different flavors hit his taste buds. It’s rich and heavy, but not too much. Sweet, but balanced with the roasted aroma of the nuts.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jace's eyes snap open when he hears the voice. He turns, leaning against the kitchen counter to face Magnus. Magnus doesn’t sound half as smug as Jace thought he would after winning. Instead, a genuine smile plays around Magnus’ lips and his eyes glow nearly golden in the lightning of the room.

“Shouldn’t you be in the other room celebrating?” Jace asks, dodging the question.

Magnus shrugs. “I found the company a little dull. And Victor looked like he wanted to get his hands on a cocktail stirrer to stab me with the blunt side of it.”

Jace gives a quiet huff of suppressed laughter. “Who says I’m not doing the same?”

“That wouldn’t be your style,” Magnus muses, “I bet you're more the hands-on type. Fist fight?”

“If you insist.” Jace says, not being able to hold back his grin.

Magnus chuckles and leans in to pluck the spoon out of Jace’s hand. He scoops up a mouthful of the chocolate and swallows it. “So what do you think?” Magnus asks, eyeing Jace intently.

For a second, Jace is drawn to say something along the lines of okay or edible, but he realizes that Magnus’ question is genuine. That he really wants to know what he thinks.

“It’s good,” Jace says, “really good.” Jace steals the spoon back to take another bite, just then realizing how close Magnus stands. He’s so close, he can smell his perfume, which has a soft undertone of sandalwood, a smell Jace very much likes.

“I think it would taste even better with caramelized peanuts instead of macadamia,” Jace adds, looking Magnus directly into the eyes, making sure that he understands that it’s a genuine remark and not a mockery.

“Peanuts,” Magnus repeats, retrieving the spoon again from Jace. “You might be right,” he says after tasting another bit. “I will try that out.”

Jace watches Magnus as he makes another half step towards him, spreading his legs automatically to make room for Magnus.

“What I  wanted to ask,” Magnus starts, placing the spoon into the sink, before leaning yet another inch closer, “was, did it help?”

Jace’s breath hitches adorably in his throat. “Did what help?”

“The kiss. To your wrist. Because if it did, I bit my lip earlier. And it still hurts.”

Jace feels more than sees the smile on Magnus’ face. His heart thrums in his chest, and he feels a little dizzy. And a little brave. “It helped,” Jace whispers, “and I’m happy to return the favor.”

He leans in and bridges the final gap. They’re not touching otherwise, only their lips meet at first in a tentative kiss that soon turns more heated. Magnus curls his hand into the collar of Jace's shirt and presses against him, kissing him hungrily.

“Do you think that’s enough,” Magnus pants when they gasp for air.

“Better safe than sorry,” Jace gives back, reaching for Magnus to draw him in again.

“Agreed.” Magnus moans when Jace wraps his arms around him and starts to stroke his back, the usage of his nails making Magnus shiver with want.

They’re both breathless when they break apart.

“You don’t happen to have other injuries on different body parts?” Jace says with a slight smirk, “I’d sacrifice myself to kiss them too.”

“Would you, now,” Magnus laughs, running his hands down Jace’s side and settling on his hips, daring to slip one finger under the hem of Jace’s shirt to stroke the naked skin there. He loves feeling the small shudder that runs through Jace’s body at his tender motion. “Where could that be?”

“I don’t know,” Jace murmurs, pressing a soft kiss just under Magnus’ earlobe. “Maybe here. Or here.” He kisses his way down Magnus’ throat, nibbling at the tender flesh. “Or maybe here.” He gives Magnus’ ass a heartfelt squeeze, laughing when he hears Magnus’ squeal of pleasure and surprise, a sound he’ll definitely deny being able to make.

“I think I’d like that.” Magnus manages after he can catch his breath again.

“So my room?” Jace asks while still caressing every inch of Magnus’ skin he can reach with his lips and tongue.

“No,” Magnus says firmly, “my room. And yes, I am a snob. But my bed is double the size of a standard one, and I have a jacuzzi.”

“You’re such a snob,” Jace confirms, “but life’s too short to spend in a tiny bed and a regular bathtub, I guess?”

Magnus huffs in amusement, taking Jace’s hand and pulling reluctantly away from his lips. “Exactly. And for the record, I might be a snob, but you’re an ass.”

“I am not. But I can finally help you find yours,” Jace gives back, laughing when Magnus slaps him lightly.

They leave the production studio quietly, both glad that they don’t run into someone. The streets are empty too, and the short walk to their hotel is only prolonged by some more kissing.

A small grunt peals off Jace’s lips when Magnus presses him against the mirror as soon as the door of the elevator closes behind them.

“I love the noises you make,” Magnus whispers in Jace’s ear, sending goosebumps down Jace’s spine. “And I’ll promise you’ll make a lot more of them soon.”

For once Jace fails to give an answer, too busy tilting his head to give Magnus’ access to his throat and pulling him closer at the same time. When they finally reach the seventh floor, Magnus fumbles for the key card to his suite.

“Wow,” Jace manages when he steps inside. “This suite might just be bigger than my entire apartment.” And he’s not even exaggerating. Determined not to let himself be intimidated by the opulence of it, Jace makes a direct beeline towards the bed, toeing his boots off before throwing himself on it.

A soft sigh escapes him when he sinks in. Magnus smiles at him, crawling on top of him. “I knew you’d like it.”

“What’s not to like,” Jace whispers, “comfy, big bed, beautiful man, a little snobbish but apart from that…” Jace reaches for Magnus and pulls him the rest of the way on top of him.

“I agree,” Magnus says, “great bed, gorgeous man, a little bit of an ass, but well. I’ll make do.”

“So you think I’m gorgeous,” Jace says with a pleased smile, ignoring the teasing.

“And you think I’m beautiful.”

They both nod at the same time, which makes them laugh before they both dive in to kiss each other.

“Really gorgeous,” Magnus confirms while he kisses his way down the neck tattoo and towards the collar of Jace’s shirt. He hears the small catch in Jace’s breath when he opens the first buttons, and he gives Jace time to voice any concern but when Jace entangles his hands in his hair to guide his lips back to his skin, Magnus proceeds.

He kisses his way down, admiring Jace’s muscular chest and defined abs, before he tugs at the cuffs of Jace’s shirt to pull them off. He frowns at the still angry looking burn on Jace’s wrist, and before Jace can protest, he starts to kiss the spot again, swirling his tongue over the little wound until Jace moans softly.

Magnus smiles when he feels Jace’s impatient fingers on him, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. He makes quick process of them and shrugs his shirt off, pleased when he hears the appreciative tone Jace makes. He might be a little older than Jace and more slender, but he’s sure to keep in shape. His abs are just as pronounced and the darkening of Jace’s eyes tells him he noticed too.

Magnus was always confident in his own body, that’s why he likes to wear glamorous things. Or show off a little. He kneels over Jace, smiling down on him while popping the buttons of his fly slowly open, revealing his expensive black Versace boxer briefs. He stands up, holding Jace captive with his stare, before slowly dropping his pants, making sure to move his body in a way every stripper in Hollywood would be jealous of.

His smile turns into a smirk when he sees the growing bulge in Jace’s pants. Magnus hugs his thumbs into the hem of his briefs, pulling them slowly down and over his ass, his hips swaying suggestively. With the grace of a dancer Magnus settles over Jace again, placing a kiss to his lips.

“Can I?” Magnus whispers, his hands trailing towards Jace’s jeans.

“Fuck yes,” Jace answers, lifting his hips eagerly when Magnus unzips him and discards his pants and underwear without further ado.

For now Magnus ignores the erection Jace is already sporting. He strokes the sensitive flesh between Jace’s legs, and when he hears the hitch in Jace’s breathing he came to find so endearing, he dives deeper to not only caress Jace’s inner thighs with his hands but also with his lips.

Jace moans shamelessly when Magnus starts to suck, his hips bucking but Magnus is quick to press him down again. He bites lightly into  the spot he just caressed, delighted to find that already a hickey is blooming there, even more delighted when he hears Jace’s soft whimper.

“Are you okay?” Magnus asks gently while scooting up again, moaning himself when he instantly feels Jace’s hands on him, his nails scratching over his back while the other hand kneads his ass.

“Very.” Jace had been a little nervous, but he’s not any longer. The way Magnus takes charge but always makes sure to check in with him makes him feel secure. “But I have never done this. With a man,” Jace clarifies when Magnus raises an eyebrow. “But I want to, with you,” he adds after another pause where Magnus simply stroked his jaw with the tip of his index finger.

Instead of answering right away Magnus bends down to kiss Jace thoroughly. Just when they’re both panting breathlessly, he replies.

“I want you too,” Magnus whispers while reaching for the top drawer. He opens it and fishes lube and condoms out of it. “I want to ride you.” A grin spreads over his face when he sees Jace eyes widening at his words.

Jace bites his bottom lip at the clear statement, containing the moan that wants to slip out. His cock gives a more than interested twitch at the images that pop into his head. He watches mesmerized as Magnus pores some lube on his fingers to quickly prep himself before he tears the package open and rolls the condom over Jace.

“Okay?” Magnus asks again, waiting for Jace to nod eagerly before sinking down, blowing all images Jace had away, as nothing Jace imagined compares to the reality of Magnus riding him. Magnus grins down on him while taking his hands and pinning them next to his head, making clear who’s in charge as his hips circle at a quickening pace, driving both of them mad.

Jace comes with a guttural moan, quickly followed by Magnus who collapses down on him, allowing Jace to wrap him in his arms. They barely manage to clean each other and dispose of the condom before they fall into bed again, wrapping themselves into the heavy blanket and each other. They’re both asleep in seconds, more content and satisfied than in ages.

Jace is the first to wake. Magnus still lies next to him, snuggled firmly against his back, a leg thrown over him and his arm slung around his waist possessively. Jace sighs, blinking against the rays of sun that woke him up. He doesn’t want to be awake; he doesn’t want to face reality.

The night with Magnus feels like a dream, and Jace knows what happens to dreams. They’re not real and shatter as soon as you wake up.

Magnus tightens his arms around Jace when he feels him stir. He wished he could prolong this, forever if possible. He doesn’t want to let go of Jace, not just yet. He knows what comes after a night like this. Awkward goodbyes and the realization that his partner never meant they wanted the true him but the flawless image he maintains.

But Jace stirs, and he turns, so that they’re facing each other. Magnus struggles to open his eyes when he feels his gaze on him.

“Hey,” Jace whispers, and something in the softness of Magnus’ not yet fully awake features make Jace brave again. “You look beautiful.” He kisses Magnus softly on the lips. “Just to make sure you’re really okay.”

Magnus laughs, a smile stealing his face at the statement. The awkwardness he feared isn’t there, instead there’s the ease of the night before. “I’m sure I look horrible with all of my  make-up smeared over my face,” Magnus says, rubbing at his eyes.

“No,” Jace says, catching Magnus’ hand by his wrist. “You never looked better.”

“Sap,” Magnus says, but not hiding the fact how much he likes to hear Jace say it.

He pulls Jace on top of him, realizing that he loves to feel his weight pressing him down. “I have some interviews to give today, but I can call you later?”

“You can even see me later.”

"Mmhm. That would be nice,” Magnus replies, pressing a kiss to Jace’s tip of the nose.

“Very nice indeed.”

A few weeks later

Magnus smiles at the cell in his hand. He’s been in a long business meeting, and after tiring discussions he finally has the time to open the messages Jace sent. Jace’s name on his phone never fails to make him smile, though most of the time the messages are nothing extraordinary. Just things Jace likes to share with him, what he did during his day or a quote or a song that reminded him of Magnus. And it’s these ordinary things that make Magnus smile the hardest.

Magnus is quick to reign his smile in when he sees the raised eyebrow of his lawyer, Raphael, and the amused grin on the face of his personal assistant.

He pockets his phone with a firm gesture. “There’s one more thing I need to discuss with you.”

Jace stares flabbergasted at the man in front of the door to his apartment. The man, though he doesn’t look older than forty, has an old-school aura around him. He’s dressed in an old fashioned but expensive looking gray three-piece suit, brown loafers, and a striped tie. He has a brown briefcase in hand that looks as if it’s emerged from the early 1920s. He’s just missing the monocle to complete his look.

“You sure you have the right door?” Jace asks, unsure what a man like that could want from someone like him.

“Jace Wayland?” the man asks and when Jace nods, he proceeds to pull a stack of papers out of his briefcase. “Then I assume I am at the right place. My name is Ragnor Fell, and I have an offer for you. I speak on behalf of a client that wishes to stay anonymous. May I?” The man gestures towards Jace’s apartment, and Jace is too perplexed to do anything but step aside and let him in.

He’s glad that he battled his weaker self yesterday and cleared the kitchen table of the empty wine bottle and glass. Somehow, he’s sure that not much escapes the man’s eye, though he tries politely not to look at anything in particular.

“What kind of offer?” Jace asks while sitting down.

Ragnor places the papers in front of him. “It’s a business opportunity. My client happens to know that you’ve been looking to go into business with some kind of… food truck. And they think it’s a promising investment.”

The way Ragnor stumbles over the word food truck and spits it out as if it’s a disease clearly tells that he’s not sharing his client’s sentiment.

“It’s all in the papers,” Ragnor adds, pushing the documents towards Jace.

Jace looks at the documents, shortly thinking that it’s kind of odd to choose a font that looks like the font of a typewriter. “And how do they know that?”

Ragnor shrugs, folding his hands neatly on the table. He took the seat opposite of Jace and looks expectantly at him. “It’s not my business to question my client’s motivation. Or choices. But as far as I know,” Ragnor wiggles his nose as if he smelled something bad, “some sort of television show was involved. But as I said, that is not my business. My task is to make it happen, in a favorable manner for all parties involved. And you will find it favorable, once you have read through them.” Ragnor taps lightly on the papers.

Jace takes the hint and starts to read through the proposal. Ragnor is right, as far as he understands the matter, the offer seems fair. More than fair, even. Which makes him not less  weary.

“You might want to confer with your lawyer,” Ragnor says when he sees that Jace has finished reading the documents.

“I don’t have a lawyer,” Jace mutters, because honestly, does the rented one-bedroom apartment scream having his personal lawyer on speed dial to the man?

“Well then I recommend you consult the yellow pages to find one,” Ragnor advises while rising. “My client expects an answer within this week.”

“The yellow pages,” Jace echoes, suddenly sure that the document doesn’t only look like it’s typed on a typewriter, but actually is.

“Yes,” Ragnor confirms, scratching his nose and heading to the door. He turns at the last moment to look at Jace. “Or,” he says with a slight smile at his sudden idea, “you can use this google .”

Jace stares for a rather long time at the closed door of his apartment, suppressing the urge to pinch himself to verify that he’s not dreaming. But then he shakes himself out of his shock. After reading a second and third time through the offer and not detecting anything bad, Jace reaches for his cell and presses a button. He doesn’t know a lawyer, but at least he knows someone who does.

“Jace,” Magnus’ voice, as cheery as always, sounds through the speaker. “A good business lawyer? In fact I do. He has a little attitude, but he’s good at what he does. I’ll send you his details. His name is Raphael Santiago.”

Magnus grins when he ends the phone call, ignoring the glare Raphael who’s been listening in the whole time shoots him. “What?” Magnus asks innocently when the glare becomes a notch more intense. “You have a little attitude.”

Raphael chooses to ignore that. “Isn’t it a bit unethical to send me to verify the validity of an offer I wrote in the first place?” Raphael asks. “I don’t understand the hiding anyway.”

“It only would be unethical if the offer wasn’t a just one, and we both know it is fair. More than that. We give him the opportunity to start his business, and when it’s starting to take off and he makes real money, he has the option to buy us out at a fair price and be completely his own boss.”

“I know that. But why not make the offer under your name?”

“Because he’s stubborn as hell and probably wouldn’t accept it if he knew it’s from me. And besides, it’s not good to mix feelings with business.” Magnus doesn’t add how much it means to him that Jace never asks anything of him. No expensive gifts, no money, no covering any of his bills.

“It’s feelings now, huh?” Raphael says with a raised eyebrow, suppressing the eye roll at the last second. “What happened to only-casual sex you claimed the two of you were having?”

Magnus sighs. Feelings . He cannot deny there is one or the other. Or all of them. “Feelings. Not that you would understand. Or that it's any of your business. And I take it back. You don’t have a small attitude. You have a big one.”

Raphael just laughs at that, leaving Magnus wondering if he shouldn’t go looking for a different lawyer. Which he knows he will never do. Raphael is practically family. It’s probably why he’s so annoying at times.

several months later

Jace grins when he sees who’s approaching his food truck. He looks as glamorous as ever with tight leather pants, a shiny, silvery shirt that is unbuttoned to his chest to reveal several shiny necklaces and black kohl kajal underlining his eyes.

Instead of acknowledging him, Jace pretends not having seen him, and he continues serving the customers in front of him without batting an eye at Magnus.

“One French Gourmet Burger and the Truffled Parmesan Fries,” Magnus orders when it’s his turn, equally not acknowledging Jace’s presence. As if he had chosen this specific food truck out of pure coincidence. There are two who can play that game. And they both love to play and do it well.

“That makes fourteen dollars,” Jace smiles down at Magnus, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

“Oh come on, I’m sure you can do a special deal for me,” Magnus replies with a wink, the first time making eye contact.

“You’re right. It’s twenty for you.” Jace deadpans.

Magnus chuckles at that but reaches for his wallet and takes a fifty note out of it. “Here. The rest is for you. For the great service,” he adds with another wink.

Snobbish bastard. But Jace cannot hide the grin at their banter.

“Simon, can you handle the truck for a moment yourself?” Jace asks when the line of customers has been reduced to one. He hired Simon a few weeks back when he couldn’t handle everything on his own anymore. And though Simon does talk a lot, he’s also capable, and they became sort of friends in the short time Simon’s been working for him.

“Sure thing, Jace.” Simon beams at his boss.

Jace discards his apron and strolls over to Magnus who sits comfortably on a bench, finishing the rest of his burger.

Jace reaches for one of the last French fries and pops it into his mouth, grinning when he hears the little huff. “Overpricing the food and then stealing it?” Magnus chides but smiles back at him.

“Only from the beautiful customers,” Jace murmurs, sneaking another one. “But I can repay you with a kiss?”

“Mmhm, I think I can accept this method of payment. But only from the gorgeous cook.”

Jace leans in and places a square kiss on Magnus’ lips. “Good?”

“I think I need another one. Two fries, two kisses.”

“Seems only fair,” Jace concedes before kissing him again, more thoroughly this time.

“Happy with how it is going?” Magnus asks, meaning the food truck, but also the rest.

Jace gives him another kiss before he drops his head on Magnus’ shoulder. “Very,” he says. Meaning the food truck. But even more the rest.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Submission deadline

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