Just because I'm bored, and I feel like writing some angsty romance. IDEK.
This has the same sort of storyline as one of the one-shots I had before my hiatus.
The brick is cold and hard as it presses against his shoulder blades. The thin black tank top he has on is doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the chill of the night, but he doesn't bother to grab a jacket. It's not like he's cold anyway. He takes a drag from the thin cigarette between his index and middle fingers, flicking some ash off with his thumb. The smoke curls out from his mouth listlessly.
Two girls have already tried to pull moves on him despite his obscure location, and countless others have either winked or checked him out or both. Just because he's leaning against an alleyway doesn't mean he's any more invisible. On a normal night, he would've been flirting right back, possibly with more than one girl at a time. But tonight is not a normal night.
Oh, don't get him wrong: he'd planned for it to be a normal night (if you can plan normalcy). He'd grabbed a few seraph blades, stuck them in his belt, and headed down to his territory. The Clave pays him to keep his area free of demon infestations and he does his job damn well. Tonight was supposed to be no exception to the routine. He hates messes (unless he causes them). He hates deviating from the plan (unless he's the one doing the deviating). All in all, this is not according to the plan.
But then again, Jace thinks bitterly, what goes according to plan when Clary Fray is involved?
Yeah, Clary Fray. Jace had walked into the noisy club alone, three attractive girls and at least two demons catching his eye. Grinning lazily, he'd consulted the clock on the opposite wall. There was plenty of time; he'd get to everyone. But of course, demons first. Not only was it good policy to put business before pleasure, he wouldn't be able to fully enjoy the pleasure with the promise of a good kill hanging over his head. That was just the way he worked. So he headed toward the she-demon first (hey, sometimes business and pleasure mixed) and amped the charm way up. After that, it was easy enough to lure her to the back room and throw a seraph blade. He emerged less than five minutes later, stuffing the blade back into its sheath and ruffling his hair. He'd fully intended to get the he-demon next, but when he scanned the room, it was gone.
Jace frowned. Demons usually liked to stay in places of chaos and noise (uh, clubs) for the whole night. There was a seriously slim chance it had ditched.
That's when the thought first crossed his mind. He didn't think Clary, but another Shadowhunter - free agent, not assigned an area - was a possibility. He strolled upstairs to the overhanging balconies and scanned the crowd for the telltale Marks, his Rune for Sharper Sight burning slightly as he worked.
There. He caught the curve of a Balance Rune stretched over a pale shoulder and he grinned again. Gotcha.
That's when he saw the red hair.
Before he could even register his movement, he was jumping off the edge of the balcony (a few passerbys stared) and shoving roughly into the crowd. She was up ahead, back turned to him as she danced. It's not her, he told himself desperately. It can't be.
He grabbed the girl's arm and whipped her around to face him.
It's her.
Time stretched for one eternal moment as green met gold for the first time in years.
"I - "
"Outside." The word tasted metallic as it left his mouth.
Then Jace let go of her wrist as if burned, slipping back into the crowd and pushing his way to the front door. She didn't follow.
So now he's propped up aganist this damned wall, fuming as he waits for her to show. He's not stupid: he knows she's trying to disregard his order. But he also knows that she isn't going to be able to stop herself. Just like how he's never able to control himself around her.
The cigarette is burning down so he drops it and lights a new one, glancing once again at the club's doors. As if reading his mind, they swing smoothly open and Clary steps out, head whipping immediately to where he is. He exhales a mouthful of smoke, eyes challenging. She raises her head defiantly and walks over to him.
"Jace." Her voice is colder than the air around them.
"What the hell are you doing here?" It comes out as more of a statement than a question.
"I'm a free agent. I have license to hunt wherever I want to - "
"No. What are you doing in New York?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh I'm sorry, am I not allowed to be in the same state as you?"
He takes a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke spiraling out of his mouth and rising to the indigo sky above. If Hell's skies had a color, he thinks, they'd be that shade of blue precisely. "Do you always answer questions with questions?"
She smirks. "I learned from the best."
They're quiet then, not because they've run out of words, but because there are so many words to be said that they can't come spilling out all at once. They both know that they need to sit down and talk, but neither of them are willing to risk their sanity like that. They'd rather go on with shards of glass puncturing their hearts and cotton filling their lungs as they breathe. It's easier than talking. It's easier than loving.
"So, do you have something you want to say, or did you pull me away from my date for no reason other than to freeze my ass off?"
That hurts more than it should have. Date? "Look at you, all grown up and finding dates at clubs. Classy."
"Again, I learned from the best." She glares. "Spit it out, Lightwood."
He instead continues to smoke silently, eyes glowing brighter than the cigarette's embers. She makes an impatient sound in her throat and starts to walk off, tossing her hair over her shoulder distractedly. "Clary."
She stops halfway out the alley. "What?" she snaps.
He advances slowly, flicking the cigarette aside as he takes his deliberate steps. She shivers when his hand cups her shoulder, maybe because his hand is warm, maybe because it's Jace. He inclines his head closer, bending down a little like he always does. "Stay away from here."
"Why?" She's defiant till the end. He used to love that about her. Now, he wishes she wouldn't push him because this isn't goddamn easy for him.
"Because this is my territory." The words are bitter, even as the musk-sweet smell of smoke forces itself upon her.
She turns around to fully face him. "I," she whispers, "can go wherever the hell I want." His expression turns into one of shock as she shrugs off his hand. "I'll see you around, Lightwood."
She disappears into the haze of New York City, bright lights and gas fumes enveloping her till she's gone. He watches till the end.