A/N: Probably gonna be my last Jace/Clary story until school starts 'cause I still have one last trip to go to for the summer. But in celebration for going through this long, hectic and boring two months, I offer one of the two most adorable and scrumptious things in the world: Clace and food. Tell me what you think!
Very PG-13. God help you dirty-minded folks. It got so out of hand. Was totally not meant to be this long at all.
Not edited for the time being.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments characters at all.
Red was such a pretty color, Jace mused. He remembered when he was little and he just turned ten years old, and his adoptive parents, Robert and Maryse Lightwood, had thrown him a birthday party, and all of his friends came over. He'd gotten a cream-cheese red velvet cake. It had been delicious. Isabelle Lightwood, his step-sister, had received a gift from him on her graduation day – a red ruby necklace, which it had taken him forever to pay for. She looked beautiful in it, and every time she wore it, it was clear she knew it too.
He reminisced the days where he and Isabelle's brother Alec Lightwood – his step-brother – had used to sit by the fire escape and color all over Maryse's favored table. He'd always take the red colors in the crayon box, and Alec always used to throw tantrums about how he had been hogging all of the maroon colors away from him. Though the complaints were nothing near the shouting of Maryse's intensity when she found out later when she came home from work.
As one could tell, red meant a lot to a teenage boy like him, in ways he wasn't quite sure of. And it didn't fully hit him until a night spent with one of Isabelle's friend knocked his breath away in a matter of heartfelt moments. Scratch that – he didn't actually spend the night with the girl (though that wouldn't have been exactly uncalled for, if it were up to him). But he did spend the night with the girl – if one understood the difference he implied by the two.
It had all started when the girl's ride had gotten canceled from her best friend because of an issue with the boy's mother or somewhat of the matter, and Isabelle had offered for her to stay with them for the night until Simon – the girl's best friend – could pick her up the next day. The girl smiled mirthfully, the change in her expression making her look like a harmless puppy, before accepting the offer reluctantly after a while of reassuring.
And if it was any other girl – mark his words, any other girl – he would have jumped at the opportunity and even maybe try to get in said girl's bed (or in that case, his bed, since said girl had to stay at their place) to try to escape his own problems and stress over the girl that had taken over all the space in his mind lately. But since it wasn't, he felt his pulse quicken in to an alarming speed, the feeling in his bones quicker than he could say, "Keep your virgin blood out of my bed, you pansy!" or something at least annoyingly infuriating like that that would drive the girl's mind crazy. But he didn't.
What he did do, was give one sharp glare in Isabelle's direction before doing the same in the girl's and promptly shoving off to his and Alec's shared bedroom and slamming the door shut. He then proceeded by breathing heavily while his back was pressed against the bedroom door, taking in the sudden change in events.
For this just wasn't any other girl. It was Clarissa Fray – more commonly known by the people who were closer to her as just Clary – and he was absolutely, positively, irreversibly, completely, and utterly smitten with her. And the fact that he had ran away like a heartbroken preteen school girl proved just how cowardly he was.
Behind him, he felt the door handle attempt to turn down but was stopped by his being there, blocking the door from pushing open. "Hey, Jace? You there?" It was Alec, he thought while forcing a smile onto his face. For some strange yet hopeful thought, he hoped it would've been Clary, trying to see what had gotten into him. But why would it ever be her?
"Yeah," he said flatly, turning around before opening the door and letting his step-brother in. The black-haired boy walked right by him, not noticing Jace's dreadful expression and took off his shirt in replacement of a cleaner shirt. "Going to set another rendezvous with your smoking hot lover?" Alec didn't turn around to face him, but Jace could feel him rolling his eyes at him. Taking his silence as an answer in itself, Jace said, "I recommend wearing that black shirt you have. It emphasizes your biceps more, and I'm sure Magnus would appreciate that."
That signaled a slight but long pause in Alec's movement, still not quite turning around to face Jace. Then, ever so slowly, he asked hesitantly, "You think so?"
Jace cackled, even clutching his arms over his stomach over how stupid Alec was being. "You've been secretly smothering him behind Mom and Dad's back for almost a year now; I'm pretty sure no matter what shirt you wear Magnus is still gonna find a way to molest you out of it."
Alec blushed, which was something he did a lot when the subject was Magnus Bane, Jace noted. But then Alec had muttered, "You're probably right," and Jace had lost it all over again in fits of chuckles he couldn't escape from. Either way, Alec took off his shirt again before rummaging through his drawers and pulling out the black shirt – the kind that apparently said "just fuck me already", according to most of the girls who saw Alec wearing it around school who didn't know Alec would never even look at their gender in the same reciprocating way – and slipping it on hastily.
"So," Jace said when his laughter died down and he had sat down on his twin bed, glancing over at his step-brother uneasily. "I'm sure you've heard about the news."
Alec frowned, barely paying attention while he stared at his phone, scrolling through the text messages. Jace peered over his shoulder to see what was so important that his own brother, real or not real, was ignoring him, and he cringed, noticing the messages were from Magnus himself. Are they sexting? Jace mentally gagged. "What news?" asked Alec absentmindedly.
"About Isabelle..." Jace trailed off, not wanting to complete the thought and hoping Alec would understand by the theory of bro-telepathy. Apparently he hadn't for his step-brother's eyes were still glued condescendingly to his screen. "Alec!"
Alec jumped slightly before staring up at Jace with a blank expression. His cheeks were bright red once again, and Jace wondered if Magnus occasionally added a few steam to his words via text message. The thought weird-ed him out in so many different ways. They were definitely still stuck in that honeymoon phase, a year spent together or not. "What news, I said!"
Jace ran his fingers through his hair in distraught. "Calm. Down." When Alec finally took in his serious expression, he put down his phone and looked over at him with concern. Jace heaved out a sigh before growing silent then started speaking, his words becoming hysterical with each passing second. "Alright. So, there I was, happily resting on the couch, right?" At this, Alec rolled his eyes, already preparing himself for a temper tantrum. "I was sleeping, having a pleasant dream about..." he trailed off, Clary's delicate face flashing across his mind before shaking his head abruptly, "never mind."
"Are you going to ever tell me what's really happening right now, or can I go back to getting ready for Magnus?" Alec cut in, his hand already inching towards his phone. Not if I can help it. Jace snapped his hand forward before snatching his step-brother's phone away from him and holding close to his chest. Alec shot him a glare, to Jace only replied with a kissy face and pouty lips.
"Hush, dear brother," Jace said. "Your lover isn't going anywhere. Literally. He's way too obsessed with you to notice that you're too dull to notice it." Alec finally ceased his attempts to gain back his phone when he made a hurried gesture as if he wanted Jace to finish what he was complaining about so he could go back to preparing for his date with his boyfriend. "Anyway, back to my problems."
"As per usual," Alec cut in, walking over to his own twin bed and stretching out his long legs in relaxation, knowing that Jace wasn't going to give his phone back anytime soon. "But go on, please. It's not as if I have anything else to do right now."
"That cut deep, really. Not," Jace rolled his eyes before sitting up and turning his attention back to his step-brother. "But, seriously, didn't Isabelle tell you what was happening? Who was going to be staying here for the night because some idiot bailed on her?" He knew the 'idiot' had been referring to was actually Simon Lewis, Clary's best friend and Isabelle's boyfriend, but he still held a grudge against the kid. He remembered when they were younger, and he sat there by the swings in the elementary school's playground, watching Simon reach over and peck Clary on the lips. He remembered feeling like a wretched beast had torn through his chest and was roaring and wailing about miserably, but then again he was just eleven. What did he understand about jealousy at that age?
Needless to say, Alec face-palmed from in front of him before slowly shaking his head in his hands, making Jace frown at him. "What? What's wrong?" he asked innocently, not understanding why Alec looked so irritated right then. Sure, he had taken his phone away, but surely he understood that he'd get it back soon enough, right?
Alec threw his hands up, annoyed. "So this is what you bothered me about?" he finally claimed, looking over at Jace with an 'I'm-internally-thinking-of-shoving-you-off-the-terrace-right-now-for-interupting-my-sexting-session-with-my-boyfriend' expression. Yes, that was exactly what Jace knew Alec was thinking right then. No matter how many times he knew his step-brother would deny it. "Your stupid schoolgirl crush on Clary? I'm sure all you'd have to do is pounce on her and nibble her ear a little, and she'd be all over you."
Jace blinked at him. Then, he heard his voice raising a few octaves as he found it in himself to speak. "Nibble her ear? You think I haven't thought about nibbling her ear? This isn't just any girl, Alec! Clearly, if I knew she wouldn't react with a slap in my face and a sharp – " at this, he raised his voice higher to mimic a girl's voice, " – 'you're a pervert, Jace fucking Lightwood', then I'd do so much more than nibble her ear. I'd corner her promptly right before ripping her clothes off and – "
Alec abruptly brought his hands to cover his ears, cupping them tightly. He shut his eyes close for a moment before opening them and saying, cutting Jace off mid-rant, "Wow. Okay. I so do not care." Then, when Jace finally felt the excessive blood drain from his face from feeling his pent-up energy get the best of him in the heat of the conversation, it was then that Alec talked again. "Look, what do you want me to do? Give you advice on girls? Because you know I really can't. I know literally nothing about girls. Even Isabelle is on the side of the number one species of people I don't understand. At. All."
Jace rolled his eyes. "I came to you – well, technically, you came to me – because I wanted someone to confide to. Isn't this how you felt for Magnus before you two started rubbing pelvises against each other?"
"It sounds so wrong when you say it," Alec grimaced. Then, his expression finally sobering, he sighed and looked over to Jace again. "But...I understand where you're coming from. The only thing I can tell you is..." Jace looked over at him with a pleading face, looking forward to finally hearing something worthy after all this time beating around the bush. "Don't scare her away. That arrogant, cocky thing you do by trying to insult her pants off? It's not going to work. If anything, she'll get more turned off, and she'll not want you."
Jace looked at him blankly. They stared at each other, mentally challenging the other like they used to do when they were kids and they had been fighting over the last red velvet cupcake (Jace won, of course – he always did when it came to red velvet cupcakes). "That was horrible advice. Now I really don't want to give you back your phone." Alec rolled his eyes for the thousandth time that day.
He did give it back anyway. Eventually. After a few brother hassles that had honestly not gone anywhere at all, Alec found a way to grab his phone back before running out of the room like the pansy that he was. Jace only pursed his lips and looked at the time. 11:00 PM. It wasn't that bad, but judging by the silence in the house, he knew that the girls were sleeping. Leaning back against his pillow, he stared at the ceiling, thinking back on Alec's advice. What did he know about girls? He supposed it was half his fault anyways for asking advice about girls from a gay man. Foolishly, he smiled to himself, slowly drifting off into a restful slumber.
Until he was heartlessly tapped awake, that is. He felt the slight shake in his shoulders even though he was already awake, but was too stubborn to open them, hoping beyond hope that whoever was bothering him would shove off to a corner and die. He heard someone calling his name lightly, and he inwardly frowned. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it enough. He was still too groggy to determine whether it was a boy or a girl who was bothering him.
"Jace..." the voice coaxed, rubbing his shoulders insistently again, but the way the person's palm massaged against him only made him groan in pleasure before slowly drifting off. Ever-living God, that feels so good. Then the voice spoke again, interrupting his attempt at resting. "I know I'm not supposed to wake you up 'cause you'll most likely throw me out, but I needed to ask you something real quick," the voice sounded hesitant and nervous, like it knew it shouldn't have been where it was right now, but was too stubborn to run away. "Please?"
Jace responded with another groan. "Go away, Alec. I gave you back your phone. There's no reason to be back here so early, so go back to your boyfriend." The hands on his shoulder stopped moving as if shocked that he responded in the first place. Then slowly, the hands removed themselves from his body, and he wanted to yell in protest. "Alec?"
"It's..." the voice started, and he suddenly had a strange suspicion about the voice now. It didn't sound the way Alec's normally did; this one sounded more high-pitched, more delicate, he realized as he stiffened suddenly. And what the voice said next, only confirmed that. "Not Alec."
Stiffened as a brick, he asked, very cautious now, "Isabelle? Is that you?" The voice didn't reply back. After a few moments, Jace shot out of his bed like a pigeon hearing a gunshot. He stared blankly in the darkness, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing, heart beating wildly, oh-so wildly, at being woken up like this. But whatever he had been expecting to see: Alec playing a harsh trick on him, Isabelle taking much longer to reply than usual, or even a thief or a murderer even – but not her.
Then, forgetting all of the crap Alec had told him about staying positive around her and not scaring her away and being careful as if she was some china doll, he burst out: "How did you get into my room?! Were you watching me this whole time?!" Though he kept his face masked in disgust and mock, he was secretly terrified. They were both in his room, even if the door was open, and he had been under the covers, sleeping peacefully. He had been shirtless. Bare, one hundred percent from the waist up. And Clary Fray was there, rubbing his shoulder insistently before he had awoken. True, she had been trying to wake him up innocently, but though her hand had left his body long ago, he could still feel it against his skin like fire – flickering like a light flame but scorching as the pit in Hell, and oh, how he wanted so much more.
Clary scowled, those thin yet somehow full lips morphed adorably at him, and he fought himself just so he didn't pounce on the girl and strip her of her clothes right then and there. He tried his best to remain angry with her. "I wasn't watching you! I just came to wake you up!" she defended weakly, her fingers wringing against each other as she stiffened, preparing herself for an argument. "It's not like I had a death wish to come here for no reason. I know how much I'm unwanted here."
He heard a glass shattering, but he was surprised when Clary hadn't made any reaction whatsoever towards the sound. Then, he realized, of course she hadn't heard it; the shattering was coming from his heart. "Good," Jace stated plainly, though it wasn't good, and he wished she knew that. He wished she could see through all the lies he was spurting out and just understand. "Maybe you should sleep on it and actually act on the fact that no one wanted you here in the first place, Fray, except God and he's just doing this to spite me. Why, I don't know, because I've never even given you a second glance before right now."
He was half-expecting God to shoot down lightning from above for all the sins he was committing right then; he had learned in his childhood that lying was one of the most treacherous sin a man could ever make in his lifetime. "So if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get right back to how it was before." He promptly dropped back onto his belly, too ashamed to look Clary in the eye though he had very, very briefly saw the shocked expression that passed over it like a dulling cloud.
He felt the seconds go by in which neither of them spoke – him with his eyes shut tightly as he pretended to not give a single care in the world, and her reaction still not known entirely to him – like an ugly bruise that stained his arm of guilt. "You sure know how to take the knife and twist it, Lightwood, I'll give you that," Clary finally spoke, her voice so so soft, and he wondered how on earth he hadn't recognized it the moment he had awoken from his slumber. "But..." she cleared her throat as if she just remembered why she had bothered to come there in the first place. "I'll go, if that's what you really want."
Jace lied there, rigid in silence. Then, he slowly shook his head after considering the options. It wasn't that tough of a decision to make, after all. He really didn't want her to go at all, though he could see why she thought he would. "No," he said abruptly, then trying to fix it in haste: "Just – just tell me what you came here for. I heard Isabelle had a late night shift at work, right? I'm assuming that's why you came to me and not to her."
Clary swallowed nervously, then finally looking up at him abashedly, her emerald green eyes glinting and her eyelids squinting in embarrassment. She was truly a sight. And to top it all off, she had red hair. Scarlet curls. She was a whole package – just for him, though she didn't know it yet. "Yeah. But the reason is pretty stupid," Clary said finally, opening her mouth before closing it quickly again.
Jace pursed his lips; he still felt groggy from his sleep, but he didn't want her to notice and leave him alone. Instead, he patted a spot beside him awkwardly, and she glanced up at him, confused. Shrugging, he said, "I'll be the judge of that." Clary grimaced again before another silence followed, very short. Then, suddenly, Jace remembered something with a jolt; something that happened to Isabelle on various occasions, and he was 'blessed' with the opportunity to help her by going to Walmart and buying the necessary supplies that was needed for her when she forced him to go. "Do you..." he gulped awkwardly. "Do you need...some pads? Or, like, a tampon? Tylenol pills? Advil?"
Clary's eyes were now blown wide, and she stared at him before coughing in fits – so much that Jace was considering running down the stairs to get her some water. Her cheeks were a shade of deep red, matching her hair, and he was reminded once again about why he was so fond of that color. Jace chuckled nervously, hoping she didn't notice the look of longing he may or may not have sent her just right then. She didn't – just like always. "What – no, I don't – I've already had mine last week – "
Then she stopped, considered what she had just said while he just smirked, enjoying her discomfort. He honestly didn't really mind that much if she did have her period. Isabelle had it – of course she did, she was a growing girl, according to all of her past flings – and she practically flaunted that fact around, claiming that every time him or Alec complained about seeing the pad-slash-tampon wrappers lying about, she didn't care because they were her brothers and it was their duty to deal with it.
Clary hastily continued, getting more and more embarrassed by the second as Jace just sat there, watching her face in amusement. " – I mean...no, I don't need any of those things. But...thanks for offering," she concluded sheepishly and heavily. He smirked, thinking of all the other things he could offer right then and there, sitting on his bed and all, before frowning suddenly. I don't think she'd want the same. "I...I came here because of something else."
Jace sighed. He was vaguely aware that not only were they alone in his room, but they were also very much alone in the house, and that sent his mind running wild. Shaking it off, he asked, "What is it then?" He hoped it didn't sound to her as harsh as it did to him in his own ears.
Clary sighed; the kind where one would know that another was going to give very irritating news, and she reached down to his carpeted floor, and it was right then he noticed there was a plastic box of cannolis – four small each: two chocolate with vanilla filling and two vanilla with vanilla filling – and he was sure his heart stopped beating right there. Those five delicacies were beautiful, he thought admirably – the four cannolis plus Clary. "Can you open this box for me?"
Jace snatched his eyes away from the box to stare into Clary's eyes to see if she was actually being real with him. Her expression held no sense of sarcasm, amusement, or lightheartedness; she was utterly serious. He considered this before he jerked as a loud laughter bubbled in his chest before releasing it with a heave, the previously silent room filled with his boisterous chuckles. "You woke me up for that?"
Granted, he wasn't mad at her. At all. He knew that feeling she was probably feeling – that helpless feeling one got when you couldn't open a damn water bottle and you have that one jackass friend who's like "why can't you open this water bottle? It's so easy!" and then you're like "well, if it was so damnably easy, then why don't I bust your head open with this plastic bottle then we'll see what's easy to open. Bastard." Or was that just him? All he knew was that in his case, Alec took that jackass role; he took his older brother rights so much more seriously than anyone ever would.
But Clary clearly didn't understand that he was easy going about this and was actually willing to let it go. Just this once. For her. She became defensive: "I could have opened it myself! But then I saw the extra plastic wrapper around it and Isabelle isn't home, and I knew I couldn't open it. So...I came to you." Looking at his chortling face, she groaned. "I'm hungry, okay? Will you just open it so I can leave you alone?"
At this, he sobered up. He didn't want her to leave him alone. He wanted her to stay with him and talk. He found it that he actually really enjoyed her company, especially now that they weren't biting each others' heads off. Judging by Clary's confused expression, she probably didn't know why he'd gotten so quiet all of a sudden. He felt a dreading pit in his stomach as he came to a tantalizing conclusion. If Clary left him right now, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. He didn't think he could honestly bear it. Quickly grasping her wrist, he shoved her down to the spot next to him and she ungracefully scrambled there, balancing herself from the impact. "Ow," she complained, "what was that for?"
He simply shrugged, smirking at her with hidden awe. She was seriously beautiful when she was clumsy like that; he didn't know why, but he really did love her for it. "You refused to sit next to me," he explained, "so I made you. 'I think; therefore I am.'"
"Rene Descartes," she noted aloud, rolling her eyes, referring to the quote he had just spurted. He was surprised that she understood what he had quoted, though he shouldn't ought to be; the quote was not only well-known, but he knew she was a smart girl. "What a cliché. And completely not related to the subject at all." Again, she gestured confidently towards the plastic box in her hands and looked up at him pleadingly, as if she hadn't just outwardly insulted him right on the spot. "Pleeeaaasssseeee..."
He rolled his eyes before reaching over and grabbing the box from her hands, and he noticed that her eyes instantly lit up with gratefulness, which only made his smirk grow wider. Her lips cracked into a wide smile when she noticed he was slowly peeling off the tough wrap, and his hands faltered for a moment. She had a seriously breath-taking smile. She noticed his pause, and she instantly frowned, making Jace snap out of his thoughts. She pouted, "Why'd you stop?"
He blinked – thinking of other scenarios where she'd be asking that same question with that same pout – before cursing himself mentally. Trying to play it off as being nonchalant, he said, "I realized something. If you woke me up from my beauty sleep for this, then you ought to give me half, don't you think?" He congratulated himself for speaking so smoothly, which was a gift he had – his quick-witted words that offered no time for hesitance.
Clary made an irritated noise in the back of her throat, and he smiled, amused. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I get the chocolate ones." He fought not to laugh and was glad when he succeeded.
"Not fair," he negotiated, doing his very best to keep his straight face, as if he was actually taking this seriously. "I get a chocolate and vanilla, and you get a chocolate and vanilla. What's wrong with that?" Clary stuck out her tongue immaturely, and that was precisely when he lost it. He bent over as he started laughing, his body racking as he did so. Clary looked up at him, sheepish, and his gaze softened on her. I love you, he wanted to say, but the words didn't leave his mouth.
"Whatever," she stated flatly, not even bothering to argue anymore. She looked exhausted, he just noted that, but he decided not to bring that up, considering she was the one who woke him up. "Just open the damn package." Jace smiled before ripping opening the final piece and popping open the carton.
Then, he said it. Those words that he originally promised he wouldn't say to her: "Why couldn't you open this box? It's so easy!" Fuck his life. Seriously. Clary pointedly stared at him before sticking up her middle finger and shoving it in his face. He proceeded by laughing; it was official: he was that jackass friend. Are we even friends?
He didn't even realize he had said that last part out loud, but he immediately knew he did when she looked back up at him, right before she bit into her first cannoli. He inwardly wondered why she had bothered to stay with him after he had opened it for her. He still remembered what she had said to him when he snapped at her: "You sure know how to take the knife and twist it, Lightwood, I'll give you that." It gave him false hope, he knew, that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to stay for reasons other than just being polite.
Clary stared at him confusedly. "Why do you ask?" She seemed hesitant, as if she was thinking too about what she had said to him before she had voiced the reason for coming to his room. She bit into her first cannoli finally before letting out a long moan from the taste, making him cringe. That was some noise. It can't hurt to hear it again, can it? He watched her jaw move as she chewed intently, mouth closed like the delicate doll that she was, but he noticed some cannoli cream against the edge of her lip, and he frowned.
"Just because," he said, fully aware that his voice sounded like how it did in his going-through-puberty years. Now, at the age of seventeen, he didn't think he could have ever sounded like that again. But Clary brought the most surprising parts in him that he never thought to have existed. And he was surprisingly satisfied with the results, though it was thoroughly embarrassing at times. The girl in front of him finally noticed that he was still staring intently at the remaining cream at the edge of her mouth, and she lifted her hand self-consciously to clean it up.
He stopped her swiftly before he could even think about hesitating. "I got it," he said before reaching over and wiping the cream off slowly with his thumb, her eyes widening in shock, and he brought his finger to his own mouth and sucked it off, his eyes locked on her green ones the whole time. He was aware of his heart beating over the pulse it normally beat, and he wondered if his heart would leap out of his chest. But more than that, he hoped she could hear it, surprising as that was, and feel the same way. It was a while before they spoke at all, with her watching him like she'd just seen a ghost – shocked and too stunned to move or react. He shifted uncomfortably. He tried to say smugly, "What? Cannoli cream got your tongue?"
She bought it, thank God, before scowling at him. "Why'd you do that?" "Why'd you stop?" he remembered her saying, and he inwardly groaned. He seriously did not like the difference between the two. He much preferred the one she had said before he reached over and licked the cream with his finger. But the cream tasted so much more better on her. He wanted to pout, but he didn't think she'd appreciate it if she found out why he wanted to pout.
"I wanted to see how you'd taste like," Jace promptly said without thinking then he felt a fierce blush attempt to conquer his face but he fought himself to keep it from appearing. Noticing her stiffened expression, he not-so-subtly tried to fix what he'd meant to say, "How...the cream would taste like." Screw him. And her. More preferably her.
She, however, was stupid as a bat. Because she didn't notice any of his attempts to impress her all evening. This girl was surely going to be the death of him. "I thought as much," she said bluntly, frowning at him for a while. "Well, how does it taste?"
Jace smirked. "Delicious." He was openly staring at her hungrily now, like she was a taco that Isabelle didn't make. Yes, he compared Clary to a food; it only proves their love, so hush. He wanted to reach out and touch those few maroon curls that fell out of her ponytail, so he did. She was pretty surprised would be a good way to describe her reaction.
He'd been friends – well, acquaintances with the occasional friendly smile and even hug here and there – with that girl for years. It was hard to let that fact go. And he found himself not wanting to. "You're beautiful, you know. Really," he said truthfully, not even having the decency to keep it a secret anymore. It was about time she knew how he felt, anyway. If she rejected him, then...well, he'd figure that out later. If that happened, that is.
He saw her lips quirk in amusement before fully smiling. "Thanks. My mom always said my red hair was my best trait," she said it in a joking manner, but he couldn't help but smile at her back. She really didn't know, did she? That her red hair drove him insane? That her eyes made him want to jump off of a roof and fly? That her lips made him so turned on he couldn't bear to look at her in the eye without wanting to strip her of her virtue from the very spot she stood?
"I'd bet she told you you'd make pretty children, too," Jace said, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. She giggled, finally finishing her first cannoli and letting her hands rest in her lap. He was stupid. So, so stupid. Especially when it came to her. Precisely because of the next words he spoke next: "They'd have your green eyes and blonde hair."
So stupid.
Clary blinked at him blankly, not quite understanding what he had said at first. He was trying so hard not to cringe but to keep his poker-face on. She spoke then, dumbstruck, "I don't have blonde hair. Why blonde? Why not my red hair?"
He shrugged. "Maybe your red hair," he tried to keep the unease out of his voice but it was seeping out like a sponge that held too much water within itself to maintain. "I just said maybe blonde hair." He needed to stop. Right now. Before he – "You never know. You might marry a blonde one day." – said something as psychotic as that.
"Uh huh," Clary said flatly, and it was then that he realized she was blushing. He'd honestly give anything away to know what she'd been thinking right then. Oh, what he wouldn't give. Then she said the most least expected thing he could think about right then. And he felt the guilt wash over him harshly once more. "Why did you say the things you said when I had first woken you up?" She looked so heartbroken right then that he wanted to reach over and hug her, but he knew she actually wanted an answer to her question this time. "Maybe you should sleep on it and actually act on the fact that no one wanted you here in the first place, Fray, except God and he's just doing this to spite me. Why, I don't know, because I've never even given you a second glance before right now."
He cringed when he thought about it. Of course, he hadn't meant a single word; he'd made it pretty clear with his actions the rest of the night despite what he'd said to her. Especially what he had said about marrying a blonde.
Shoot me in the back of the head.
"One day, Clary, you'll realize," he finally opted on saying after a long moment of thinking to put it in words, "that boys will say just about anything to either scare you away because they want to protect you from them or fall so hard in love with them that nothing, not even the other person's feelings or how they may react in response, comes to their mind." He hadn't even noticed he'd shoved away the carton of cannolis that still had somehow remained in there, nor had he noticed he had scooted closer to her that he almost hovered over her, so close that he could feel her warm breath against his own mouth – he registered she smelt like cannolis and so did he, but it was a perfect fit – but he definitely forgot one thing: all throughout he remained completely and utterly shirtless.
I deserve Hell, he thought, for thinking all the things wrong and right I want to do to this girl right now. Satan, you there? Can you wait just a few moments? I can't die without doing this first.
He heard Clary's breath hitch in her throat, and he was aware that he was somehow on top of her, and if Isabelle just happened to be stumbling upon them, demanding who on earth broke into her delicately but boldly wrapped cannoli box, in such a compromising position, he would seriously kill his own step-sister. "You can't die without doing what first?" she asked, glancing down at his bare chest as if she just had noticed that it was bare in the first place – her eyes totally lingered, he thought smugly – before looking back at him, her gaze matching his own.
"What the fuck do you think, Fray?" That was all it took, and everything that followed after that was a blur – like a TV suddenly going static after a long-awaited soccer game. His lips smashed harshly against hers and rummaged his tongue inside her mouth, forcing her tongue back and letting his take over as he moved fiercely against her, electricity and heat sending sparks rushing through their contact – the kind you got when you put ramen noodles with water in the microwave for two minutes and balanced it in your hands, but the water spilled over on the side of the bowl and you howled because it was so shocking – and it burned. Oh, good God, did it burn when she kissed him back, intensity equally matched by his.
He knew his hands had a mind of its own when they traveled along Clary's body, as much as one could while the other was still sitting: in her beautiful red hair, by the curve of her neck, raking down her spine, and shoving them inside her shirt, rubbing against her waist. He felt his raging need for her and wondered if she did too, physically and emotionally, but he could control himself for the time being – until Clary's hands ripped away from his hair, causing a groan to come out of him from the force, and he felt her: all over his shoulders, neck, back, chest, and abdomen, she was there. All for him.
And he lost it.
He pried his hands away from the small of her back to gripping to her hips – and he pushed her flat against his bed, spreading his legs to straddle her thin ones and pressed against her hard once again. His hands once again made one more round over her body, this time more body parts to explore for him before she let out a gasp of surprise. He stopped. With her hands and lips still on her body, he stopped.
And he pulled away. He stared down at her, watching her shocked face as she stared back, her lips almost bruised along with his. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glittering. She looked completely paralyzed. You kissed me back, he thought with utter despair, you kissed me back, so don't you dare look at me like I'm some type of monster. Her mouth opened to speak, but he wouldn't let her; he was way too afraid of the outcome. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't mean a word of it.
That made her pause. "Why are you apologizing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. His own widened considerably; a stark contrast between the two.
"I thought you wanted me to," he replied after a moment of taking in her reaction and deciding what was the best way to approach the situation.
Clary frowned. "Did you mean it? When you said you were sorry?" He wished he knew what she was thinking. He wished he could spare himself the embarrassment of what could come or what wouldn't. So, he shook his head, telling her that, no, he didn't mean it. And he never would. She stared up at him, blankly, and he realized then that they were still on top of each other. He should probably get off to give her some space if she wanted it, but he found that this was so much more comfortable. "Good."
That shocked him. He knew that maybe she had a physical attraction to him all this time, but he didn't know what the extent of it was. Either way, he smiled down at her, for once in his seventeen years of living, relieved he had finally done something right for once. This time, she initiated the kiss, but it was much more gentle, yet somehow, the affect of her lips and hands on him still blowing his mind all the same. I'm such a pansy for this girl.
He pulled back and smiled back down at her in awe, noticing her dazed expression. Slowly, he got off of her reluctantly and picked up the box of cannolis and handed it to her. "Want another cannoli?"
Clary grinned back at him before sitting up and taking the box from him. "I thought you'd never ask." She was blushing heavily again, and he noticed she was still looking at his chest intently. He smiled, knowing he wasn't going to be putting his shirt back on anytime soon. Not if he had a reaction like hers.
Clarissa "The Red" Fray. It definitely had a nice ring to it.
FINIS – sike!
"Ugh," Jace snorted, his eyes not leaving Clary's as he spoke. He kept chewing on the bitter taste in his mouth. "This tastes disgusting."
"That's plastic, Blondie. Plastic." He pulled out the material from his mouth and looked at it. How it had crept inside his cannoli, the world may never know. He stared sheepishly at Clary, shrugging innocently at her.
"I knew that." Clary smirked. "I did!" She snorted in reply. "Oh, shut up. You totally want me," he said before promptly pulling her down on the bed with him again, no more questions asked. But what was she to do? After all, she couldn't even get the words out to protest in time. Not like she would even think of doing that, anyways.
Finished – really.