Jace Wayland Buys A New Shirt

by alicecullengirl

Note: All of the lines in italics are directly quoted from City of Ashes. Which is why this is making me laugh so hard. (City of Ashes and maybe a teeny City of Glass spoiler)

She jabbed a finger at his shoulder. "When did you get that?"

Jace looked down and saw that the spider demon's poison had eaten a hole in his shirt, leaving a good deal of his left shoulder bare. "This shirt? At Macy's. Winter sale."

"The scar. This scar, here on your shoulder."

"Oh, that." Jace wondered at the intensity of her gaze. "Like I said. Winter sale. I got into a duel with an old bag lady and a Dennis the Menace wannabe over the last XL Child's tee on sale." The Inquisitor arched an eyebrow. "I like my shirts black and cozy. Like a panda. Well, half of a panda."

The Inquisitor's eyes widened. Her son, Stephen, had liked pandas as a boy. He had spoken of nothing but pandas between the ages of twelve and nineteen. Jace was seventeen. Entirely within that range. "It can't be," she murmured. "You can't be--"

"I can't be what?"

There was a note of uncertainty in the Inquisitor's voice. "All those years," she said. "You've truly had an abnormal affection for pandas?"

"Also koalas and bush babies," Jace's voice was grim.

"You have to know, Jonathan, you must know--" But a demon had sunk its talons into her back. Her face went slack, and even as Jace fell to her, he knew she was dead.

--

Clary had been avoiding him ever since they had been rescued from Valentine's ship. This filled Jace Wayland with conflicting emotions. The only thing for it was a new shirt. The air was brisk as he pushed through the doors of the West 34th Street Macy's.

Columbus Day sale.

Jace ran to the children's department, and, seeing that there were no more XL Child's tees on sale, he sprinted to the juniors' department. He sidled over to a rack of black t-shirts and swore on the Angel that he would be a better man if there was just one XS tee left.

And then he saw it. Blacker and cozier and more beautiful than any half-panda could ever be. He grabbed it from the rack, pulling it over his own shirt and reveling in the comfort of honeycomb cotton and the extra-smallness of its jet-black fibers.

A finger tapped his shoulder. Jace hissed and drew back with cat-like reflexes.

"Could you direct me to a dressing room, young man?" an old woman in a floral hat and pearls asked kindly. Without pretense.

Jace pointed left, though he had never been to the women's dressing room at Macy's before. For obvious reasons. The woman left and he smiled in a way he had not since he was five and bathing in spaghetti on his birthday. Who needed Clary or Valentine or the Lightwoods or the rolling green fields of Idris when he had a shirt like this? He smiled, and then looked down.

And screamed.

Blood from one of his unbandaged flesh-wounds had soaked through the beautiful new tee, leaving an ugly stain on the torso. Life, love, and meaning were all over.

Jace Wayland was alone.

A/N: Haha, this is my second one of these strange, strange, One-Shots (after the Alec one). I don't know why they fill me with such joy. Again, read the series if you haven't yet.