Disclaimer: All characters and settings used in this story belong to Cassandra Clare.

Author's Note: I'm not really that good at writing stories, and I just wrote this because I'm bored. Please read, and tell me if I should continue it!

Training, a shouting match, and other stuff

Clary was standing on a training mat in the institute.

Aww... Crap! Clary thought. She had to do hand-to-hand combat for training, and not surprisingly, she was terrible at it. As much as she tried, she still couldn't get the hang of it - especially if Jace was training her.

Apparently, hand-to-hand combat was an essential, apart from balances, flips and so much more. Clary had to master hand-to-hand combat before Clary was to learn how to use a weapon. In fact, young shadowhunters brought up in Idris weren't even allowed to touch a weapon until they were about 14, and had mastered the basics. It was so ironic that Clary had participated in the deadliest war in a millennium, gone against the cleverest shadowhunter of all time, and didn't know how to use a weapon. Unfortunately, the clave was adamant about her learning 'how to be a shadowhunter' in the 'traditional way'.

Crack! Clary was startled out of her reverie by a well aimed punch to her head. Muttering a few choice curses, she snapped her head up, eyes thin as slits, wondering who could possibly hit her when she wasn't ready.

"Jace!" Clary complained, as she rubbed her head. "What was that for? I wasn't ready!"

"Oh? And do you expect you eneher to say 'hey, I'm going to punch you, get ready'?"

"Still," she reluctantly got into a protective stance. "You could have warned me!"

Without warning, Jace threw a punch at her, which she tried to block - unsuccessfully. Ouch! There was no predicting Jace when was fighting. Fighting was like second nature to him, first being kissing her, and making out with her, of course.

Clary noticed for the first time, that Jace was only wearing a pair of black jeans. She let her eyes roam, taking in his shirtless figure. Perfect. Yup, he looked just perfect - and yummy - in his jeans. If only she could just get her hands on him...

"As much as I know you just love looking at me shirtless," Jace waggled his eyebrows, as Clary blushed furiously, trying not to look at him. "We seriously have to get on with training."

"Can't I just have a break? Please? I mean I'm already drained!" she looked at him with big round eyes, wondering if she could possibly charm him into letting me off.

"We've only been here for about 1 minute," he observed drily. Apparently not.

Five minutes later...

"Ahh!" Clary yelped, jumping back, as she had just gained her twentieth bruise. He now held her in a whatever-it-is-lock (she couldn't be bothered to remember numerous locks she had been taught). Whatever lock it was, it certainly worked, because she couldn't move an inch.

She put in her last effort to break free, trying to kick, punch, scratch, bite - just get out of that damned position! A few seconds later, she realised that this was a futile attempt.

"Could you just let me up?" she asked.

"Unfortunately for you, she quite enjoy seeing you struggle, and she have absolutely no intention of letting you go," Jace grinned at me wolfishly.

We'll see about that. she thought, tensing her muscles in anticipation.

"Could you just lean closer?" she asked, in her best seductive voice. "You're so good that there's no way that I'll get free!"

She could almost see his ego inflating, as he tried to keep a smirk off his face. "I must be really good, if even you admit it."

"Come on," she whispered softly.

His common sense was wavering, as he leaned closer.. and closer.. until..

She brushed her lips against his, letting a torrent of emotions overwhelm her. It was pure bliss. Almost unconsciously, he shifted his position, so he was on top of her, one hand running through her hair, the other roaming, exploring her body. One second on her back, the next, down... The kiss grew more passionate, and she slipped her arms around his neck, winding her hands through his soft gold curls, pulling him closer as he kissed me harder, and harder, as if it was his life's source. As she grew more confident, she too, let her hands roam, tracing the scars on his back...

Someone cleared their throat. Jace and Clary jumped apart, as if they had been electrified. They turned to see who had rudely interrupted them, with identical guilty expressions etched on their faces. Maryse, Jocelyn, Isabelle, Simon and Alec stood by the door. Oh, shit!

Maryse looked furious, in fact, that was an understatement. She practically had steam fuming out from her ears. Her glare was like a laser.

Isabelle, didn't look one bit surprised that we had been making out. she would even venture to say that she looked amused.

Alec cocked his eyebrow at us, as if to say: making out? Not shocked, Magnus and she do that all the time. With Maryse, and Jocelyn here though? Nope, never. So, good luck to you, because you're dead.

Simon had a blank expression on his face. she could tell that he had no intention of taking sides.

At last, she turned her eyes to Jocelyn, her mother. she saw a mix of emotions. Anger first of all, that she was misusing her time, sadness, maybe because she wasn't as close to as before? Finally, she saw disappointment.

"You know," Jace said, breaking the silence. "It's common courtesy to knock on the door before coming in." Clary looked at Jace, shifting closer to him, as if it was safer there, and she saw his guiltiness, melt away, leaving only annoyance, and his cocky, arrogant attitude.

There was about a ten second silence, before the screaming began.

Clary sat at home, on the sofa, getting increasingly nervous. Jocelyn was probably going to scream, and rant, and shout. At the institute, Clary had found out that Maryse and Jocelyn had come to watch her train, and see what progress she had made - it was supposed to be a surprise visit, so they could see if she was slacking off. Alec, Isabelle and Simon had just tagged along, as there seemed to be nothing to do these days. When Maryse and Jocelyn had come in, they had gone berserk. It had taken their combined efforts - Jace, Alec, Isabelle, Simon, and her efforts to calm them down. In the end, Jocelyn had enough sense to bring her back home, and 'talk' about it.

Jocelyn, her mother, came in, and stood in front of her, hands on her hips, waiting. The fire that Jocelyn had, seemed to have died out, and she was no longer that angry. Clary breathed a sigh of relief - maybe it wasn't going to be a shouting contest!

"I'm very disappointed with you." Jocelyn said. "I expected you to be learning, yet for the first time I come to visit, you're with Jace. I understand how it's like for you. I was like that too. You want to do what he does, want him to think that you're perfect, just to be with him, all the time. I know that, but Jace isn't... safe. He's too much like Valantine, even though he's not Valentine's son by blood - like you are - but he was raised by him. I know Valentine - your father's behaviour, more than anyone, and I can tell that Jace is very like Valentine. His attitude, behaviour, even the ability to charm people into doing what he wants! I'm just worried about you."

"Don't talk about Jace like that," Clary whispered quietly. "He isn't like that. Jace hated Valentine, Jace is nowhere as cruel as Valentine was! Jace can be arrogant, he can be an ass, but he's also the most kind and caring person I've ever met!"

"I should have known that you would act this way," Jocelyn sighed. "There is no use trying to talk sense into you when your head is stuck in the clouds. I just hope in the end, you will make the right decision. I just hope you're right about Jace."

Clary didn't say anything, instead choosing to stomp up stairs - in a childish manner - to her room. She slammed the door shut, and collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to take off her shoes. Seconds later, tears streamed down her face and she fell into a haze of self-pity. It wasn't fair! She had been training for a few weeks now, and she still couldn't get the hang of it. Jace wasn't helping either, all he was doing was pushing her harder and harder. Even when she tried her best, he pushed harder, forcing her to jump higher, move faster, hit stronger. She didn't want this Jace, trainer Jace, warrior Jace, the Jace that was adrenaline-filled-because-of-fighting. No, all she wanted was her Jace, the Jace that she loved, the one that was gentle and loving.

She lay there, on her bed not moving, not even bothering to go down to eat dinner. She had lain there for a few hours now.

Tap! Tap! Clary looked around, not seeing anything out of ordinary, she lay back down. Then, she heard it again. Tap! Tap! What was it? She looked at the window, to see Jace hanging just outside. "Open the window!" Jace mouthed at her. Quickly, Clary slid out of her bed, and opened the window. Jace swung himself inside, landing with a slight thud.

"Shh!" Clary whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Coming to see you, of course!" Jace wiped a tear from her face, and proceeded to kiss her gently. "I knew that you'd be pretty upset, so I came to cheer you up!"

Clary smiled against his lips. This was going to be a good night.