Please, Make It Go Away (Jeliorn)
Jace/Meliorn, Rated M, 1.4k words, arguably Canon Compliant
Implied Drunk Sex (Dubious Consent there because one’s drunk, one’s sober)
Jace struggles to deal with Clary's loss, and finds himself drinking too much. Drunken steps lead him somewhere he didn't know he needed.
Written for @shadowhunterschallenges, Day 3 of the RarePair Challenge: Jeliorn
Read On AO3
Jace knocked back the end of his whiskey glass. It hit the bar with an empty clink. He waved around at the bartender for another. He didn’t know how many he’d drank anymore.
Nothing made sense. The hole in his heart was too big, and trying to fill it with alcohol didn’t work. His heart was pierced, like the Danaids’ barrel, and he felt useless in trying to fill it back up.
It was Clary, who could fill his heart properly. And she wasn’t there anymore. All he had, was alcohol and the bartender that kept pouring him drinks despite the fact that he shouldn’t be drinking any more.
He didn’t remember the name of this bar, he just thought that the bartender was nice enough to not seem to care about the fact he wouldn’t be able to walk right when he stood back up. His glass was filled again and he slid another bill over the counter. Nothing really mattered and he wanted to get so wasted that he didn’t remember Clary’s absence.
It would hurt so much tomorrow morning, when he would have to wake up for patrol. Good.
He started drinking the rough, amber liquid greedily, not caring very much what he looked like. There was a perimeter of empty chairs around him, where no one had sat in a long time. He guessed that, with the leather jacket and the greasy hair, the dark circles and the breath that smelled too much like alcohol, he didn’t make a very attractive picture.
Fuck. What would Clary think of him if she saw him like this?
He shoved himself off of the stool and almost tumbled to the floor. His vision was so blurry that he barely could see the difference between the brown-painted concrete floor and the wooden counter of the bar.
“Want me to call you a cab, dude?” The bartender called.
Jace replied something he wished resembled “No, it’s fine, I’m just going to walk.”
He stumbled out of the bar through the door. The bell of it chimed distantly and he started walking down the sidewalk. He didn’t know where exactly he was going. He hoped his feet knew the way to the Institute, to his bed.
New York wasn’t really that pretty at night. It had garbage cans overflowing with the day’s trash, the sour smell of urine against the pavement. It had poor, desperate people, masses huddled against walls and inside construction scaffolding, sleeping there. You could never see the stars in the sky, because the lights of the city, of the big squares and the giant screens of adds lit up the sky too brightly to see anything.
Jace walked down the sidewalk and the world around him dissolved into a smudge that should have been darker than it actually was. Many places were still open, actually. Too many.
It was a bit cold but he didn’t do anything to keep himself warm. He just walked, and prayed that his boots would hit the steps of the Institute. His boots pressed into grass instead. He blinked. The vapors of alcohol kept him from seeing any real structure, but he knew there was grass.
He was probably on the lawn in front of the Institute. He sighed softly. Finally he was home. Finally he could sleep the alcohol away, disappear into dark night, and wake up maybe slightly more rested than he usually would.
He wished he could disappear inside the void of sleep and never come back, some days. Most days.
His fingers bumped against a tree, the bark rough against his fingertips and he stopped for a second. He wanted to puke. The world swam around him, and the lights blurring even more into threads of light instead of steady singular points.
Time stopped. His heart beat too loud, too slow. He tasted cheap whiskey on his lips, and sweat too.
He shoved himself onwards, always onwards.
Grass changed into dirt under his feet. That was strange. There was concrete and stone around the Institute, no dirt. He blinked again. It didn’t really help.
There were no buildings around him anymore. There was no one else, either, not even a homeless person. He was inside of a park, or some woods, and he was alone. He checked his phone. It slipped out of his hand, because it could register in his mind that he didn’t have any network.
His knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, wincing, the pain radiating up and down his legs from his kneecaps. The screen of his phone looked shattered, but he didn’t know if he could trust his eyes right now.
Jace sat there, on his knees. He didn’t know how to think.
“I thought I’d heard something.”
The voice was soft and sharp at the same time. Deep, and familiar. Jace tried to look up but his head pounded and swam and he felt pulled down by the alcohol in his veins. He couldn’t deal with this anymore.
“Please make it go away.” A second voice said, blurry and hoarse, words smushed together, barely recognizable. He frowned. Was that his voice?
A person walked up to him. He saw feet first, bare on the ground, skin brown and beautiful. There were small leaves on the tip of the toes. No. That wasn’t right. Nailpolish?
The person crouched down, foreign fingers gently grabbing Jace’s chin to lift it up. He let himself be moved, eyes struggling to see who the person was. Long, wavy black hair that wrapped around a golden brown man with dark eyes and scars like the strong, gnarled roots of big trees like the ones in Brocelind Forest. Was he in Brocelind Forest?
“Oh, Shadowhunter,” the man said, so softly. “I’ve never seen a man in such a pitiful state.”
Meliorn. The voice was so familiar that Jace wanted to cry. Seelie court.
Jace didn’t realize he’d moved until his hands were clutching the man’s tunic, hard. “Please.” He didn’t know what he was asking. “Please make it go away.”
Meliorn didn’t seem to care about how Jace’s grip was threatening to tear apart his clothing. He grabbed him, pulled him to his feet firmly and Jace felt like he was falling.
He was dragged away from the phone that was still on the ground, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered right now. His head was still swimming, swimming in ginger and musk and deep, deep earth. Swimming as his feet hit a ground covered in carpets and fabrics.
“Please,” Jace whispered again, when Meliorn stopped walking. “Please, please, please.”
Meliorn watched him, he could see that, feel that, electrifying his bones. Fingers reached to pull off his jacket. “I’m going to take care of you now,” Meliorn whispered. “Oh, poor young Shadowhunter.”
Jace shook his head, lunging forward, grabbing at the man again with renewed strength. Clumsily, his lips hit the man’s cheek, the corner of Meliorn’s mouth, searched for him. Searched for a kiss.
A force moved Jace’s body without him thinking, an awkward, muted and clumsy assault, and Meliorn chuckled, surprised. He kissed him back, hard, ardent, shoving against his mouth. It had nothing of the pretty elegant way Jace had seen him kiss before. His mind stopped working. Jace breathed in when Meliorn pulled back, deep, clean, and the biggest breath he’d taken in what seemed like years, but was probably just days.
Meliorn looked at him, a sickening fondness in his gaze. “I’m not one to sleep with inebriated people, Shadowhunter-”
“No,” Jace slurred. “Jace. Not Shadowhunter. Jace.”
Meliorn smiled at him, the first smile Jace had ever actually seen on his face. It was blinding, and it was so strange that Jace almost took a step backwards. Meliorn stopped him. A hand in greasy hair that should have been washed days ago, he pulled Jace to him.
“I’m going to make an exception, Jace,” he whispered. “You sound so desperate… And I know you need me.”
Jace nodded, eyelids half closed. Meliorn was so close, not kissing him yet, but just hovering there. He could feel his breath against his lips. “Please,” he whispered again, and he hated and loved how needy he sounded. “Please, make it go away.”
Meliorn’s smile turned a little too sweet, almost pitying, and Jace’s hands pushed him back for that. Meliorn didn’t let him. He pulled him even closer, until Jace couldn’t feel anything but relief and Meliorn’s body against him, lithe, so different from what Jace was used to, in both training and sex.
“I’ve never…” Jace mumbled, gesturing clumsily at Meliorn.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
Jace let go.