Title: like girls from fairytales
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,500
Characters: Clary and Isabelle
Summary: Isabelle's smile widens, if possible. "I'm taking you shopping," she announces, voice hushed, as if containing her excitement.
A/N: I've wanted more female fluffy bonding between them since the books, and I definitely think that the show has a better chance of giving them a deeper friendship, so this is what came of that excitement. Probably could canonically take place sometime after 1.04 "Raising Hell"
like girls from fairytales
Isabelle shows up to her room in her usual manor – chin held high, a swish in her hips, heels clicking against the hardwood as she smiles widely, all pearly white teeth and striking red lipstick. Clary grins. Cute isn't exactly the word that should first come to mind when one is talking about Isabelle, but Clary has been around long enough by now to know that the word is actually rather fitting. Isabelle – for all her beauty and cunning and ferocity – is pretty damn cute. She takes Clary's hand at random, swings it between them as they walk down the hallways. She gives this little shrug whenever she gets a compliment, giggles into her hand when she thinks something is funny, and her entire face lights up when Alec smiles at her.
The same way she's smiling at Clary right now, eyes bright, hopeful. It's rather endearing, actually.
"Up," she commands, already taking Clary by her hand and tugging her off of the bed. Clary sort of scrambles to get to her feet, pushing her sketchbook off of her lap before it can fall to the floor, and then arching an eye at Isabelle. "You're coming with me."
"Where are we going?"
Her smile widens, if possible. "I'm taking you shopping," she announces, voice hushed, as if containing her excitement.
"What?" Clary laughs. "Isabelle, please be serious."
"I am." She gives Clary's hand a squeeze before letting go, walking over to armoire and pulling it open. "See what I'm seeing?" Isabelle asks, smiling at Clary over her shoulder. Other than a leather jacket (Isabelle's) and the dress Clary had worn to the rave (also Isabelle's) the thing is totally empty. "Your wardrobe is seriously lacking, and as much as I love playing dress-up with you, you deserve to own some clothes of your own again, and we finally have the downtime to do so. I already got the approval from Hodge so don't even try to argue."
"But with what money?" Clary asks. "My room went up in flames, remember? I don't even have a penny to my name right now."
Isabelle grins, tucks her hand into her jacket pocket and produces a credit card, eyes gleaming. "Consider it a gift from all of us at the Institute, much deserved and long overdue." Clary stares at the card, lips parting in protest, but Isabelle cuts in with, "Please tell me you're not going to fight me on this. It's a shopping trip, Clary. Come on."
Clary hesitates. As much as every part of her wants to politely decline the offer (hasn't she been enough of an inconvenience at this point?) she knows Isabelle is right.
She glances over Isabelle's shoulder into the empty armoire that isn't hers, staring at Isabelle's leather jacket hanging by itself. The only thing she owns in this world right now is her sketchbook, and the reality of this squeezes over Clary's chest.
"Hey," Isabelle says, tone gentle, and Clary meets her eyes. Isabelle's smile softens. "This is your home now, Clary. This is the new you. You deserve to feel comfortable again."
Clary feels herself smile, and Isabelle shrugs her shoulder cutely, reaching over to tuck Clary's hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she says.
"You're welcome," Isabelle replies, and then reaches down, taking Clary's hand again with another squeeze. "Now come on. We've got a lot of stores to hit and only so much time!"
... ...
Clary finds the shirt on a rack it probably isn't supposed to be on, but it catches her eye all the same, something tugging at her as she picks it up by its hanger. She remembers how brightly Dot had smiled when she saw the netted material of her birthday gift to Clary underneath the hoodie as she and Simon were heading out to his gig, remembers the lilt to her voice as she called after Clary, telling her to not get into too much trouble. This shirt isn't exactly the same, but it looks close enough, and Clary holds onto it too tightly as she hears Dot's voice in her head, telling her to try it on. "Just don't get me in trouble with your mom for dressing you like the heartbreaker you are," she teases, voice light and airy and comforting.
"Excellent choice," Isabelle sings, flitting over to where Clary's standing. The girl found another feathered boa – blood red this time – and wrapped it around her bare shoulders.
"It's…" Clary trails off. A bit much, part of her thinks. Exactly what I want to wear, another part of her chimes in.
"Exactly your size and exactly what you'll be trying on," Isabelle finishes, nudging Clary in the direction of the dressing rooms. She has even more clothes hanging on her arm, and behind the counter, their dozen or so shopping bags are being held by the sales associate while they take their time looking around.
She doesn't need any more clothes. Not for a while, at least – but—
"A few more won't hurt." Isabelle giggles. "It's not as if this is coming out of your pocket, anyway."
"Isabelle—"
"Okay, wrong word choice, but the point is you're not done just yet," she interrupts, inviting herself into the dressing rooms. The attendant sort of just watches as Isabelle walks right past her, not paying her any attention. The attendant looks thrown, turning to Clary with a lost expression, and Clary presses her lips together to keep from laughing, shrugs a shoulder and follows Isabelle in. Isabelle walks entirely at her own pace, compelling everyone to bend to her will without even needing a rune, and Clary can't help but find it entirely amusing.
Isabelle hangs her clothes up in the largest stall and then plops down on the plush couch, smiling widely at Clary as she twirls her feathered boa around her fingers.
"You know," Clary begins, after she's closed the door and tugged her shirt over her head, "I'm probably not your favorite shopping partner, but – I'm actually having a lot of fun."
"Well, I'm involved, so you better be having fun!" Isabelle calls out. Clary laughs, slipping into the sheer-striped top and tugging it into place. It fits her just as easily as her shirt from Dot did, and, not for the first time today, Clary is surprised at how bold her style choice has been on this trip. Clary opens the door to show Isabelle, and the girl's face lights up almost instantly as she hops off of the couch. "I love it," she says. "Come see!" She takes Clary's hand, pulling her towards the standing mirror, then flashes a smile at her in the reflection.
Clary feels herself let out a breath. "I… look—"
"Badass, right?" Isabelle drapes the boa around Clary's neck and then yanks at the hem of the shirt, tugging the neckline down even more. "You need to show yourself off more."
"I have the body of a twelve-year-old," Clary says with a laugh, though her cheeks flush at the amount of cleavage she happens to be showing.
"Trust me, Clary, you've got more going on than you think." Isabelle leans against Clary, sets her hands on her shoulders and squeezes ever so slightly. Clary's smile widens. "And for the record, you're my only shopping partner, so that kind of already makes you my favorite."
"Really?"
Isabelle hums in confirmation, pushes Clary's hair off to one side, so that the rune Jace had drawn on her neck – her very first rune – is visible. It's all but faded by now, but it's still there, and even though Clary hadn't been conscious to remember any of it, somehow she can still feel the burn of the stele against her skin as he etched it onto her. Her eyes trace down her own reflection, catching the darker marks of the more recent runes curling up her forearm, over the curve of her hip, down the side of her ribs. They match the swirling patterns across Isabelle's body, and Jace's, and Alec's, and something tugs at Clary when she sees the angelic rune on her arm next to the angelic rune on Isabelle in the reflection.
It feels comfortable. It feels a little bit like home.
"No one at the Institute exactly jumps at the chance to do something as trivial as shopping," Isabelle answers. Her tone is nonchalant, like she's accepted this for the most part, but there's something solemn in the girl's eyes—something so incredibly lonely that it almost startles Clary.
"Well, that's their loss, then," Clary says. Isabelle meets her eyes in the mirror. "You're one hell of a shopping partner."
Isabelle smiles brightly, eyes sparkling, and Clary leans into the hug she gives her from behind. Isabelle squeezes onto her a little harder than usual, holds on a little longer than she might've, but Clary doesn't mind. Then she pulls away, tucks Clary's hair behind her ear again and gives her a cute shrug. "Now try on what I picked out for you."
Clary laughs.