So I seem to have caught to Blackstairs Blues after reading Lady Midnight and this is the result. It can be considered kind of a missing moment, that takes place after they all get back from the dance but before the next day starts. You guys should be able to figure it out.
Many thanks to Amanda (infernalandmortal on tumblr) for helping to edit.
Title comes from the song Phoenix Hearts by We the Kings. The lyrics are from the song So Close by John Mclaughlin.
It was late. Emma wasn't sure how late it was, but she figured it was late enough that the rest of the Blackthorn clan had been in dreamland for a had twisted and turned for about an hour, until finally giving up trying to fall asleep. She had been through too much and there was no way her mind would turn off. Julian had always seemed to calm her and she wished she had taken him up on his offer to have him stay the night. But she knew it was a dangerous territory to be going into, especially after what happened tonight.
Ever since he got back from England she had noticed a change in their relationship, but she tried not to focus too much on it. She got up from her bed, trying to shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. Jules's near-death experience had awoken something in her that she was trying to both figure out and fight off at the same time.
Taking a deep breath, she made her way to her closet, opening it up and settling down. If her mom were still alive, Emma would have asked her about this weird mix of desire and longing and need. If her mom were still alive, maybe she wouldn't even be in this predicament because she might not have become parabatai with Julian. Was this the reason he told her he wished they hadn't gone through with it?
She sighed. What had happened tonight? Was it simply the faerie's music that had caused Julian to behave that way, or was it something else? Was it just a case of right place and right time, forcing them to act on the magnetic pull that had been growing stronger ever since she healed him in the back of the Toyota?
If she was being honest, she didn't seem to care. All she cared about was that, in that moment, she had never felt happier, and that scared her. It scared her more than never finding out what happened to her parents; it even scared her more than the thought of Julian dying.
She could still feel it now, the ghost of how he held her earlier that evening. The way his hands danced around her body as if she was a canvas and he was drawing on her skin. The way his eyes seemed to course with life and draw her in. The way his breath seemed to mingle with hers. She was sure that he was going to kiss her then, had they not been interrupted.
Emma couldn't help but wonder what that would have been like. Would his lips be as soft as she imagined them to be? Would he pull her flush against him, forcing her hands to grip his hair...
She knew that it was wrong to feel this way - or at least she was told it was wrong to feel this way. But why? Christina always said that Raziel had a plan for everything, well if he did, then why was she feeling what she was feeling? Why had he allowed her to feel something if it was supposed to be wrong? It made no sense and she guessed that maybe the Blackthorn family motto was right: "A bad law is no law."
Without realizing it, she got up and made her way out of her room, with one destination in mind. She didn't even have to think about where to go, her body navigating towards the only thing she wanted, the only thing she needed. What was she going to do when she got there, she wondered? She could always feign ignorance saying she was having another nightmare, but the dance seemed to have scratched them both so raw, that she thought he would see through her lies. And yet, she couldn't stop herself from going into his bedroom.
At first, she wasn't sure where he was, but then she saw him. He was half sitting, his back to her, still wearing the dress shirt and pants from earlier that evening and she was reminded of the stark contrast between his suit and his eyes and how beautiful he was in that moment.
As if he had felt her eyes on him, he twisted around to sit on the bed normally, legs dangling from the mattress. "Hey," he said in a defeated voice.
"Hi," she replied quietly, slowly moving towards him to sit on the space next to him. For the second time tonight, she felt awkward. "What are you reading?"
He pointed towards the large, red-bound book, her eyes drifting towards the word on the page.
Parabatai...
She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, she had seen that book before, knew what it contained. What was he looking for? Was he trying to find the same answers she was?
"I was just trying to figure out...trying to see if there is some...explanation or something because..." He seemed to run out of words, unable to find the right combination to express his thoughts. Even though it was dark in his room, she could feel the exhaustion flowing off of him, as if he was trying to fight something off for months but failing.
She wanted to egg him on, ask him what he was thinking, what about having or being a parabatai was driving him to such exhaustion so that she could fix it: take whatever was bothering her and feed it to a bunch of cannibalistic ducks, or fish, she still hadn't decided which was worse. She just wanted to protect him.
All she could do in that moment was move closer to him, pressing their shoulders together, letting her breath sync up with his. If anyone had come in, they would see two people sitting close together, unaware of the storm brewing inside.
She hadn't realized how close they had been sitting until she turned around to face him, waiting for him to continue, just close enough that she could smell the scent of paint on him and see the scar he had right above his eyebrow. His eyes were drawing her in again and she found herself leaning towards him. But it wasn't like earlier tonight, he didn't lean towards her, instead he looked away, finally gathering up the right words.
"I've been trying to figure out what had happened in the Toyota because it...I don't know. When you drew that rune on me, it...I saw things I'd never seen when you drew an iratze on me and I was hoping maybe this book would have something about it."
So that's what he was trying to figure out.
Not whether there was any explanation for what they were feeling; not whether there as any reason why it wasn't allowed. She should have figured it was the case - she should have assumed that he didn't share the same feeling she did. Maybe it was just faerie magic. The thought made her sad and angry; sad that she was in love with her parabatai and that she was alone in feeling it; angry in that she was tricked into...wait, love? Did she love him?
As if sensing something was wrong, he nudged her, asking "Why aren't you sleeping?"
What was she going to say? That the reason she came over was because she wanted to be close to him again? Wanted to sleep in the same bed, because she still hadn't recovered over almost seeing him die? Wanted to feel him touch and look at her the same way he had earlier in the day because she had never felt anything like that before? That she liked how he touched her with eagerness and trepidation at the same time? How could she say something like that when it was so obvious that he didn't share in her feelings?
Instead, she settled for a revised tale, telling him that she kept having nightmares about him dying and wanted to make sure he was okay. He seemed to believe it, cradling her into his chest. His hands started running up and down her back in a comforting motion, but it was hard to imagine it was, considering his hands lingered on her lower back, right where her shirt had ridden up. Or maybe she was just imagining it.
"Oh, Emma," he breathed.
She knew she should say something, anything. Tell him that he didn't need to comfort her like this, that she could handle rejection on her own. But she couldn't. If this was some weird fluke in the universe and this was the only chance she got to be this close to him, she would take it, settling her head in the crook of his neck, her nose gently rubbing the soft skin there. And they sat there for some time, neck on shoulder, hand on back and she had never felt as peaceful or happy as she did then.
"What did you find out," she whispered into his neck eventually, growing curious about his late night reading.
He didn't respond, so she quickly stuck her tongue out, ticking his neck. It was a playful gesture but the response was almost instantaneous.
"Emma..." He emitted a low growl that she felt more than she heard and his hand had stopped its movements. The sound he had emitted had seemed to start something within her and she wanted to do nothing else but make him say her name like that again.
"What?" She giggled, pulling back slightly. She thought she was turning into a vampire; the sudden desire to taste the skin of his neck again was overwhelming.
"I was just trying to get your attention since you were ignoring my question."
"Sorry," he replied, "What did you say?"
He still hadn't restarted his hand movement and though she was sad, she was also grateful because she didn't want to indulge in the moment because she knew it wouldn't last. Though she moved away from him, she could still feel the heat radiating off his body and she missed his touch already. Yet another thing she would have to get used to.
"I asked if you were able to find anything out, you know, from that 800 pound door-stop you somehow believed was reading material."
He sat quiet for a moment, ignoring her crack at a joke. This was so unlike him, to sit in silence without replying, as if he were nervous.
"Okay, promise me you won't freak out." He had looked so vulnerable she couldn't stand it.
She looked confused, "What, did you realize that you are not in fact human and are an alien who lives off of eating live ants?"
He threw her a look that said Please Emma this is serious and so she just nodded, giving him her full attention.
Taking a deep breath in, he began. Words seeming to flow from him without any effort, as if he kept everything locked inside of him, and this exact moment was when the seal that had kept him together had broken.
"Since before I left for England, I've been feeling something; something that I couldn't explain. It wasn't what I felt for Liv or Ty or even Mark. It was something else and it scared me. I mean, I know that I'm supposed to feel more for you than I feel for my family, but...I've seen how Jace and Alec are together, I've seen how Clary and Simon interact and talk about one another...but the way I felt for you, it seemed different. It reminded me of how Jace would look at Clary, how Helen had interacted with Aline...And I thought that going to England and not seeing you would make it easier, maybe it was just a fluke because you had been going on and on about Cameron so maybe I was just jealous of that.
"And you know, it was easier. Of course I missed you, of course it hurt to be apart, but it eventually became clear that that was normal, that of course I would be missing you because we aren't supposed to be separated and I felt better, I convinced myself it was a fluke – that I didn't, couldn't, have feelings for you.
"But...but then I came back and saw you and I realized I wasn't just jealous that you were spending time with some other guy. I was jealous because...because I wasn't the one you were running off with."
She wasn't sure what to say or how to react; she couldn't try to process a response because he was still going.
"...And then you came down those stairs tonight and...Gods, Emma you looked so beautiful, you looked like an angel sent down from heaven to both punish and reward me, though I wasn't sure what I had done to deserve either.
"And this book, this book..." He was rushing now, his breath becoming labored and she thought he had to continue so fast because he might never get the words out. "I've been trying to go through it for days now, ever since you saved my life - though if we are being honest you saved my life years ago - but I've been trying to figure out why it isn't okay, why they don't allow this, but it doesn't give any reason at all." He looked like he was about to laugh, but she knew better. "No reason whatsoever and it just doesn't seem right. Trying to fight this when the only reason I should be fighting against it is because I'm told it's wrong." His voice was stern, but she could hear it cracking as he stopped talking. He shifted his eyes downward, staring at the patterns on the rug as if embarrassed to have shared this with her.
If she thought he looked exhausted before, he truly looked exhausted now. As if everything that he had said had taken all the energy in his body, that it had drained him of all his life force.
She wanted to touch his face and reassure him that he shouldn't be embarrassed or afraid because she was feeling the same. But would that make it worse or better? Would suffering together be better or worse than suffering alone? Because comfort from the source of your pain didn't seem like it would help.
"God, I'm just so tired of fighting this," he said in such a low voice she wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, to her, or to God himself.
"Dance with me?" Emma asked. For some reason, it was the only logical thing to do at that moment. When he didn't respond she continued. Emma Carstairs was a woman on a mission and when she set her mind on something she got it.
"Don't question it Jules," she said, standing up and extending her hand to him, "Just get up and dance with me." He did as he was told, too empty to say otherwise it seemed.
He instinctively wrapped both his hands around her waist, pulling her flush against him, not bothering to be chaste about it. Her hands wrapped around his neck and found the soft hairs that had enticed her earlier in the day. She leaned into his neck and they danced.
She hadn't danced with many people in her life. Sure, she danced with her parents at family gatherings and she had danced in the shower (though she would never admit that to anyone). She had even danced with Mark a few hours ago –or was it yesterday at this point? – But none of that compared to dancing with Jules. Where Mark was elegant and graceful, Julian was...something else. It wasn't just dancing with him, though you couldn't even call what they were doing dancing. There was no music, no set rhythm. They just moved together.
At times they would stop moving and just hold onto each other, and then start their sort-of-dance again. She thought it would be a good idea tell him he wasn't alone, that she had loved him too. But instead she kept her thoughts to herself, realizing that if he wasn't aware of her feelings for him at this point, he was as dumb as a bunch of bricks.
She wasn't sure how long they had been doing their dance; she had lost herself in the feel of his body against her, of the smell of his neck, of the feel of his hands on her hips. Something shifted then. She felt his hands run up the length of her back, up to her neck, causing her to look up at him. He had the same determined look on his face, but his eyes were different. He seemed drunk and she was being drawn to it. She removed her hands from his neck and moved them to his hips, holding him to her, afraid that he would fly away.
This time, when she leaned in, he didn't try to move away or argue, instead leaned towards her. Instead of kissing her where she wanted him to, he placed a gentle kiss on her nose, ghosting over her lips to land on her chin. She fought back the urge to lick his nose, which was now resting directly on her lips. The look on his face was one she had never experienced. He seemed to be studying her, studying the way she reacted to his kisses, as if he expected her to slap him and run away.
She gave him a quick nod and a small smile, letting him know that it was okay.
That was all it took. He started placing wet kisses all along her jawline, from one ear to the next, slowly walking them both over to the bed. A low moan escaped her lips as they landed on the bed, him on top of her. He moved to raise himself up on his elbows, but she stopped him.
"Don't," she whispered shyly. "I like feeling you around me."
He continued his movement along her jawline, being careful to not touch her lips. His kisses were slow and calculated, as if he had planned this from the very beginning.
Her hands jumped to his hair, pulling him even closer, urging him on, telling him to kiss her where she needed him to kiss her. He seemed to be off in a world of his own because he continued his careful actions along her jawline, making his way to her ear. She had to bite down on her own lip to prevent a loud moan from escaping her lips. Now would not be the best time for anyone to come barging in and she wished she had locked the door. His mouth continued trailing slowly down, until he reached the end of her earlobe and started moving across her neck.
The sensations that were being elicited in her body were like nothing she had ever felt before. How was it even possible to be feeling like this? Yes she was enjoying herself, but she figured she was mostly enjoying it because of who was kissing. This was Julian. Her Julian, laying flush against her, kissing her in the most intimate way...and yet he still hadn't actually kissed her. What was he waiting for?
She didn't have time to think of a response because his hands had now tangled up into her hair, slowly massaging her scalp as his mouth made its way down her collarbone and across her chest, to her other ear.
She was no longer able to suppress the moan she had been trying to fight off when Julian moved his tongue along her skin, but he didn't seem bothered by it, instead it seemed to bring new life into him. His hands moved down from her hair, across her arms, making their way to the bottom of her shirt.
Even if it is not what he was expecting or wanting her to do, she pushed him, giving her just enough room to remove her own shirt.
She had seen Julian's expressions change several times - she had seen him happy and sad and joyful, but she had never seen him like this. He was breathing heavy, lips red and puffy, hair tousled to one side. He had looked more beautiful than she had ever seen him.
At that moment, she didn't care about the Clave or the Law. She didn't even care about avenging her parents. All she cared about was the feeling of his hands working up and down her naked sides, and across her stomach, as his lips continued to make their way around her neck, sucking, licking, biting.
The parabatai rune burned underneath his touch in a way it had never burned before. She wasn't sure if she had butterflies in her stomach or a collection of small dragons, trying to burn their way out of her. His touches were desperate and eager, and yet soft and gentle as if she was a fragile creature. If this is what it was like to be next to him, what would it be like to actually kiss him? To feel the connection of his lips on hers?
While she enjoyed the softness of her touch, she wanted more; she wanted to feel all of him, feel him unraveling, feel him connected to her more than he already had. And most of all, she wanted to taste his skin again; her tongue ached with the memory of ticking him a few moments ago.
She devised a plan - she would lift her legs up and twist them around his body, using her momentum to turn them over. Instead, as she lifted her legs to wrap around his body, he moved his hips to meet hers.
The sound that had escaped them both pulled them out of their little moment of bliss, causing them to pull apart from one another.
The realization of what had just happened, of what they just did stretched across his face and she could tell he was already making the decision to get off of her, to run away.
She couldn't take it - she couldn't take seeing this boy who had been through so much, who had sacrificed so much for his family not being able to get the one thing that he wanted. He said she was an angel sent from heaven to punish and reward him; she was starting to realize that maybe he was the same angel for her. Seeing him with regret and denial on his face was punishment enough.
Before she had a chance to say something, to steady his weary mind, he spoke. His voice low but with determination.
"I...we should...It's late and we have an early morning. We should sleep." He handed her the t-shirt she had removed and started to move away from her. She raised her hand, gently cupping his face so that he would look at her.
"There's nothing wrong here. You know that, right Jules?" Hoping he would understand that she didn't let him do anything to her that she didn't want him to.
He said nothing. Instead he laid down on the bed with his back facing hers.
She knew she shouldn't take it as a rejection because she understood - they were risking everything by doing this, but she couldn't help it. The same cold had entered her body as when she thought of him with Cristina. She never wanted to imagine him doing this with anyone else but her. She never wanted to imagine herself doing this with anyone but him.
When he made no move to respond, she figured she had dabbled in this fantasy long enough, moving to get off of the bed. Suddenly, his hand grabbed to hold her steady, pulling her back into the bed.
"Please, just stay." Even if his voice hadn't sounded so sad, even if his voice hadn't been the anchor that tied her to this world she would still have made the same decision: climbing into bed with him and mirroring his position so they were laying side by side. Their hands quickly entangled themselves and did not let go for the rest of the night.
The early morning light seeped into the window and into Emma's eyes. She was feeling tired, but she had never been so comfortable. She wondered if it had anything to do with her new pillow.
Wait...new pillow?
She opened her eyes and saw that she was sprawled over Julian. His arms encasing her as if to say You're mine and I'm never letting go.
Thoughts of last night came rushing back to her, a sudden warmth she had never thought possible spread throughout her. She realized it was happiness.
Emma was never one for following the rules, but Julian had surrounded himself with a strict code of conduct that he followed, one that centered entirely on the protection of his family. And what they did last night was certainly not something that fell within that Code. As much as she wanted to wake him up and lay with him in silence until the rest of the world woke up, she knew they would be eaten up by guilt inside; him for putting his family on the line and her for for making him do it.
Gently, she removed herself from his embrace, careful not to wake the sleeping boy up. And he really did look like an ordinary boy. A boy without all the responsibility and all the pain. How she wished she could take away all the pain he had felt.
She leaned in to give him a quick peck on his cheek goodbye, but lingered there, whispering the words she had wanted to say all night.
"I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, Jules, and when all of this is over, I'll tell you. I promise. You deserve to know. You deserve to not struggle alone. "
With that, she walked out the door, trying to compose herself while clearing the tears that had started to fall.
So close to reaching
That famous happy end.
Almost believing
This one's not pretend.
And now you're beside me,
And look how far we've come.
So far we are. So close...
Thanks for reading. Remember, I have a lot of student debt and so I have to live off of kudos and comments.