Requested by svnnyjjang: Heronstairs "It's not heavy. I'm stronger than I look."

"Will," Jem sighed, sounding exasperated. "Please, you're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm a shadowhunter," Will insisted. He would've sent him a perturbed glance to go along with the statement, but he'd probably have done exactly as Jem said if he'd tried. The piano he was attempting to lift up the steps and into the dining hall had its weight balanced precariously on his outstretched arms.

For a moment, Jem was silent. He was probably contemplating how best to maneuver around his parabatai's infamous stubbornness. He sighed again, this time sounding much closer as he took up a position leaned against the doorway Will was working on moving through. "At least let me help."

"It's not even heavy," Will maintained, ignoring him entirely. "I'm stronger than I look."

"Of course you are," Jem affirmed in that deadpan way he usually delivered sarcasm. "You're a shadowhunter."

"Exactly!"

"And I'm sure when that thing falls and crushes you to death, it'll be a very shadowhuntery demise."

This time, Will did swivel his head around to look at him. "Did you actually just use the word shadowhuntery?"

Jem, looking as annoyed as he usually was by Will's persistent idiocy, merely shook his head. Will had to admit he looked incredible stretched out along the door frame leading into the dining hall, arms folded across his broad chest and muscles framed by the white shirt pulled taught across them.

He always looked good, if he was being honest, but Jem was always a quieter kind of attractive than Will. He didn't flaunt it, nor was he the classic type of handsome, but Will had always found him undeniably beautiful.

Especially in the moonlight, when they were standing ten feet apart in one of their rooms and the evening had stretched into night. There had always been something ethereal about Jem, an eerie beauty to the pallor of his features. Death, Will supposed, had an odd way of being wholly and entirely enrapturing.

"Will!" Jem exclaimed suddenly, snapping him from his reveries just in time to notice the piano slipping from his hands. He had a moment to think that he really was about to be crushed before a slim hand wrapped around his chest and yanked him back, the instrument crashing down on the steps and snapping at the legs. It landed with a massive sound, resonating down the echoing halls of the institute, and sent its parts careening all across the floor.

Will could hardly breathe, air caught in the chest his parabatai still had an arm around. He wasn't sure whether it was the near death experience or the fact that he could feel Jem's breath ghosting over the back of his neck.

"That was close," Jem commented, barely a whisper. Anything else would have felt far too loud, would have broken the spell they'd both been entrapped in.

Will couldn't do anything but hum and swallow hard. They were pressed up against the door frame, Jem's back against it and Will's back against him, and the heat of their bodies was a solid line that felt different than every time they'd wound up pressed together in a fight.

Twisting his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, Will felt his breath catch all over again at how close their faces were. He couldn't remember if Jem's lips had always been so inviting, or if this was a new development.

He could see him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing and Will's eyes following it the whole way down.

"I, uh," Jem started, staring at him with a look he wasn't used to seeing. He seemed taken aback, unsure of himself, unsure of them. For once, he was anything but calm and collected. "I told you."

Will stared at him for far longer than he should have, partially because he couldn't remember what his friend had told him. "Yes, I suppose you did."

Jem stared right back. His silver eyes flickered across Will's face and found his lips, his arm still pressed to the muscles of his chest like he'd forgotten it was there. His breath was warm across Will's cheek and he thought for a moment that if he kissed him, he would taste like the blossom tea Sophie had fashioned after breakfast.

Will jerked away abruptly at the thought.

"Right, well. We should, uh," he frowned, raking a hand through his already tousled hair as he darted wild eyes to the disaster at their feet. He very pointedly did not look at Jem, acutely aware of every minute twitch of the man beside him. "We should clean this up. Before Charlotte sees and has a fit."

For a very long time, there was an awkward silence. Then, Jem abruptly cleared his throat and pushed away from the wall.

"Right," he said. "We should."

Will nodded, suddenly determined. He tried to pretend he couldn't still imagine the warmth of Jem's body pressed down the length of his own.

It was a fluke. A result of adrenaline and Jem having just saved him from some egregious injuries.

He didn't actually want to kiss his parabatai.

…Right?

Another from a few months ago that I must have forgotten to transfer over from tumblr. There's a link to my blog in my profile, if you want to follow me over there. I'm currently working on a project over there titled 146 Things to Do Besides Self-Harm, which is a series of short drabbles featuring a number of different characters and/or relationships.