I started writing this in May, since I went to a friend's surprise birthday party and we genuinely had to hide in a bathroom... I'm surprised at how long it took.
Disclaimer: I only own the plot. None of the characters.
The Lightwoods had always had a taste for flair, and this was displayed in the sheer impressiveness of their home.
It was fairly large and bulky, with a garden completely surrounding the house, enclosed by high hedges. A paved, straight path led from the gate to the door in a no-nonsense fashion typical of Maryse. Lots of windows speckled the walls on every one of the four stories (excluding the basement), every one of them wide open with white lace curtains fluttering like butterflies in the wind. The overall effect was that Clary felt very small standing awkwardly in the shadow of the imposing doorway as she pulled the handle to ring the bell.
The door opened quickly to reveal Maryse, Isabelle's mother. Clary wasn't sure whose idea it had been to throw Isabelle a surprise birthday party, but Maryse had taken it into her stride remarkable well and had been working feverishly to make it perfect ever since the thought had been brought up.
"Oh good, you're here." The woman gushed, ushering the stiff redhead inside and taking from her the neatly wrapped present and tin of freshly baked cookies. "Magnus texted recently; he said that he and Alec had managed to stall her in a random clothes store."
"How much needs to be done?" She asked, looking around. With Alec and his boyfriend tasked with the job of distracting Isabelle, that left Maryse, Robert, Max, Simon, Clary, and Jace to set up. Only immediate family and close friends had been invited to the party, so then it would be easier to keep it a secret. Besides, Isabelle - despite being a bright social butterfly - secretly did like having small gatherings.
"Not much; it's only a small celebration," came the answer. "Simon and Max disappeared somewhere to discuss manga, and Robert and I are laying out the food on the table. If you could help Jace with the balloons that would be great."
Clary nodded. As she moved towards the back of the kitchen, she shed her green jacket and carefully buried it under the mess in the Lightwoods' shoe closet. It was hot and she couldn't leave it out or Isabelle would recognise it. She noticed Jace's bag he had presumably brought his stuff in lying out in the open, and mentally reminded herself to nag him about that.
Ducking through the door that led into the dining room, she took in the sight and stifled a laugh. Jace Herondale stood staring at the dining table, which was littered with empty, neon-coloured balloons. He held a blown up yellow one with the end pinched between his fingers, and was gazing puzzled at a green one that had already been tied.
"Need any help?" She asked smugly, laughter ringing in her voice. He turned a lost expression on her, then scowled at her smirk.
"These are impossible to tie," he insisted vehemently, waving the one in his right hand around. "I try, and then there's a whoosh as the air starts escaping."
She giggled at that and swiped a pink one from the table. "How hard can it be?" She countered. His expression only darkened.
She blew into the balloon as hard as she could, but it barely inflated, and deflated again before she could take another breath. She didn't need to look to see the grin on Jace's face. Mentally flipping him off, she blew again. It failed again.
He whistled. "Need a little help there, Red?"
"Don't call me 'Red'." She snapped. "Especially when you know perfectly well what my name is." His only response was to stick his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes. "But yes, I do need help." She loathed to admit it, but held out the balloon to him.
He took it nimbly with his left hand and handed her the untied yellow one expectantly. Without a word she took it, trying not to curl her fingers at the rush of heat the physical contact gave her. There had always been tension between her and Jace - Isabelle liked to call it 'sexual tension'. Clary disagreed.
She did not like Jace Herondale. No way. Not ever.
With ease, he inflated the pink one. "How did you fail at this? It's so easy."
She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. "My lungs are smaller than yours!" She argued back defensively.
They fell into a routine, with him blowing them up, and her tying them. Finally, Simon and Max turned up again innocently asking whether there was anymore work to be done, though their self-satisfied smiles betrayed that they knew there wasn't. Resigned to a wait until Isabelle came back, they all took seats at the table, half-heartedly batting balloons at each other. Simon came in and handed around the cupcakes of the batch Maryse had made that hadn't turned out too well, and Clary made sure to smear the last scraps of icing left in the tub over the top of hers before devouring it with such impressive ferocity it earned her a raised eyebrow from Jace.
Finally, they all heard the ding! of Maryse's phone going off. Isabelle's mother came in and read it, a small smile gracing her features. "Alec says that they've started walking back now." She glanced up at the kids.
Clary's eyebrows furrowed. "Walking back from where?"
Jace faced her and said very pompously, like she was stupid "Well, they went into town, so-"
"I know that," she interrupted. He sat back, looking the slightest bit dejected. "I mean, are they walking back right from town, or have they caught the bus and are walking back from the bus stop?"
Jace and Simon just sat there, opening and closing their mouths like fish, before finally turning to Maryse for the answer. Her expression screamed I don't know.
"Well then," Clary said calmly. "We might as well sort out our hiding places in the meantime." She glanced around to receive everyone's approving nods as confirmation. "I'll take the shoe closet-"
"No," Simon interrupted. At Jace and Clary's confused glances, he elaborated. "How are we all meant to fit in there?"
That just baffled Clary more. "I'm the only one who's going in there." She pointed out slowly.
He shook his head. "We should all hide in the same place."
Cue the still-bemused silence. It was his own fault for being so cryptic. "Why?!" Her voice clearly betrayed her impatience and irritation. He huffed, rolling his eyes again, but before he could speak, Jace seemed to catch on and explained for him.
"Well, for one thing, if we all hide together we can at least entertain each other should we end up hiding for two hours. And also, if we hide together we don't have to worry about someone else giving the game away by shouting 'surprise!' too early. We can all jump out together."
She crinkled her nose. "I hate your inarguable logic."
"You love me," he winked, flashing his golden smile that had so many girls falling for him at school. Only for once, it was more smile than smirk.
She spared a brief moment before she followed Jace to wonder why her heart was racing. Did she have arrhythmia?
.
.
.
"A bathroom?" Clary tried to raise one eyebrow at him, failed, and raised two instead. "Seriously?"
Simon shrugged, grinning like an idiot. Clary was finding his behaviour suspicious, but she had no idea what he could be up to. "If you can find another suitable hiding place big enough for all three of us, by all means we'll use that. Otherwise, here we are."
"Idiot," Jace muttered from where he was leaning against the wall opposite the two of them. The bathroom - unlike the extravagance of the rest of the Lightwood household - was fairly average, if one overlooked it's colossal size. It had a white bath, which Clary and Simon were currently sitting on the edge of, a towel rack, a small ledge to hold soaps, toothbrushes and toothpastes, and a sink, which Jace was leaning against. The toilet was situated between the bath and the sink.
Jace cocked his head at Simon, but didn't comment. For once his face was blank, without a hint of arrogance or cockiness. Clary absently wondered how often he was seen like this.
She realised, with a sudden pang, that she didn't actually know much about him. Sure, she knew that he was Alec's best friend, and that he was practically a brother to Isabelle, and that he was a player who practically ruled the school (everyone knew that) but, despite the abundance of times he'd teased her at school or at the Lightwood's house, and just how often she saw him across the corridor, she didn't really know much about him.
He turned his gaze then, to catch her staring at him. She ducked her head and blushed, too quickly to see the uncertain smile that flitted across his lips.
Without warning, Simon, in two strides, was suddenly over from his position in the corner to standing in front of the door and fiddling with the lock. Clary sprung to follow him and grabbed his hand before he turned it. "What are you doing?!"
Her best friend surveyed her calmly. "Do you want Max or Robert to come barging in, having forgotten we're in here?"
With a slight shudder, Clary shook her head, releasing her grip on his hand. Jace watched the proceedings with one golden eyebrow raised.
"Okay," Simon said as the two of them settled into their original places. "What shall we do to pass the time?"
Jace shrugged, and said the first words he had in a little while. She wasn't sure whether his silence was uncharacteristic or not. "How about truth or consequence?"
"I'll go first!" She declared before they'd even decided on it. She whirled on Simon, who seemed slightly caught off guard. "Were you ever actually planning on returning the Harry Potter DVD's to me?"
Simon's eyes widened. "And the consequence?"
Clary thought for a moment. "You have to abstain from talking or communicating to anyone in any way for the next three days."
Simon swallowed. Everyone knew what a chatterbox he could be when he wanted to. "Fine then, the answer is: I was planning on waiting until you'do forgotten about them, then slipping them into your DVD cabinet at home."
She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a loud guffaw. Jace was bent over double, laughing so hard it looked painful.
"What?" The two squawked in unison, indignation scrawled across their faces. Clary put her hand on the spot where her hip should have been, had she not had such a boyish figure. Jace sobered up slightly, straightening up again, then his buttery eyes latched onto the contorted expression Clary wore as an outcome of her strained efforts to raise an eyebrow, and he was down again, hearty chuckles wracking his torso.
"What is that expression?!" He choked out, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You look like you're trying to give birth to a coconut!"
She took a startled step back from where she'd risen in outrage, tilting her head and giving him her best Are you absolutely mental? look. "Giving birth to a coconut?! Where the hell did you get that simile from?"
He unfolded himself again, actually considering her question. "I don't know," came the answer. He shrugged, an amused smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. One went up before the other, she noticed, and then chastised herself, with no idea why she'd noticed that. "It just popped out," Jace continued, oblivious that Clary's confusion had found a different source. "My mind comes up with strange things."
"Pervert," she muttered, before flinging herself back onto her perch on the bath rim. However, in her frustration she overestimated the amount of force needed, and her momentum made sure that within seconds she'd toppled over and was sprawled in the bathtub directly beneath the shower nozzle, legs flailing uselessly in the air above her.
"Don't even think about it, Simon Lewis," she warned in a deadly tone, as she spied her best friend's hand inching towards the dial that turned the shower on. At her scathing look, his arm sagged and he drew it back grumbling. She turned the look on Jace, whose renewed laughter died instantaneously. She nodded in satisfaction.
"Good," she said. She held her arms out in mid air. "Now can someone please help me up?"
To her surprise, it was Jace who did, his grip more gentle than she would have expected from him, though she wasn't quite sure what she would have expected from him. Either way, it wasn't what she got.
He held onto her hands a beat longer, before Clary dropped his like she'd been electrocuted. Simon's scrutinising stare was burning holes in her already burning face. "So!" She said loudly and brightly, shattering the awkward silence into a million remnants that still clung onto every one of her actions and words. She turned to Simon and smiled wickedly. "Your turn to ask the question."
.
.
.
"You're joking." Clary said, disbelief etched onto her face as she stared at Jace open mouthed.
The blonde in question pursed his lips, shaking his head. "I'm not," he insisted defensively. "They are terrifying beasts ready to peck your eyes out! Never go near one!"
The redhead turned to lock gazes with Simon, whose face was a bizarre blend of shock, glee, and the twisting of the features one gets when they're trying to hold back a snort. The expression in itself was almost as funny as Jace's absolutely ridiculous declaration.
As the truth of it sunk in - Jace was actually serious - Clary's knees crumpled and she clung to the side of the bath for support, her loud giggles bouncing off of the pristine walls and becoming distorted in the small space. She thought she'd never seen anyone more disgruntled than she saw Jace in that moment.
"It's. Not. Funny." He forced out through gritted teeth, and Clary's laughter only intensified as she spotted the dark red flush creeping up the side of his neck. He glared at her, eyes burning with the energy of the suns they resembled, and she did her best to sober up, forcing herself to recount the incident.
"If that's not funny then I don't know what is." She declared, still smiling lopsidedly, as she stood up again. "An innocent question for our game: What's your biggest fear? Here I am, expecting you to answer something sensible or rational, like heights, or spiders, or even the dark!" She'd unconsciously increased in volume, her arms waving passionately.
"Why would I be afraid of heights when I'm this tall?" He asked, gesturing at his imposing frame, voice half-annoyed and half-confused.
She ignored him as she carried on with her recount. "But no. Instead, you reply with the most unexpected phobia in the world, and then try to justify it!"
"It's not a phobia," he growled, eyes still fixed on her. "It's a perfectly rational fear. They are terrifying." Clary went to share an astounded glance with Simon, but failed, because for some unknown reason her friend was staring at his phone, typing something in. She turned back to bicker with Jace some more.
"Oh yes," she drawled sarcastically, "it's perfectly rational. That explains why you see people running around the park screaming whenever one of the poor ducks decides to go for a wander." She paused for a moment and snorted, covering her face with her hands. She could feel Jace's death glare scorching the crown of her head. When she looked back up, it hadn't lessened a fraction, but one side of his mouth was curled in a half smile. "Why are you afraid of them anyway? Did a duck try to eat you as a child?" She thought for a second. "Come to think of it, that could actually be quite scarring."
"No," he bit back, drawing the vowel into the tone that indicates one is meticulously explaining that would be painfully obvious to anyone else. "It was a story my dad told me. He and his brother, William, and Will's best friend, went to the park one day and bought some pies. When they passed by the duck pond, they fed some of it to the ducks, before realising that the pie had duck in it. When they tried to dissuade the ducks from eating their generous offerings, their efforts proved fruitless, and led to them being chased away. Therefore, they amassed proof that ducks are bloodthirsty, cannibalistic animals." He touched the back of his hand to his forehead in an overly dramatic gesture of distress. "And one must stay well away."
"Uh huh." Clary nodded to show she'd heard. Apparently Jace doubted her conviction, because he treated her to another glare.
"Actually, Clary's right," Simon piped up at that moment, still looking at his phone. Then his eyes slid from the screen and found Clary's, before travelling on Jace. "It's a phobia. It's officially called..." he squinted at the screen. "'Anatidaephobia is defined as a pervasive, irrational fear that one is being watched by a duck. The anatidaephobic individual fears that no matter where they are, or what they're doing, a duck watches.'" He looked back up at Jace. "Clary was also right about how ridiculous it is."
Jace staggered back, pressing his hand to his heart. "You cruel people!" He cried, pretending to sob. "You mock my fear!"
"Yes," Clary stated, and she felt the ripple of amusement travel from her to him and back and back again. His mouth tilted up in a smile. "We do."
.
.
.
It was shortly after that that the doorknob was twisted firmly and someone attempted to open the door, but due to Simon locking it again, it resisted. Then came three sharp knocks and Maryse's voice seeped though the wood, "Can you open the door?"
Clary hastened to do so, and the door swung inwards to show Isabelle's mother silhouetted in the doorway. "Simon," she said, slightly worried. "Isabelle called to ask if I wanted her to pick up some milk for later in the week, and Max accidentally let slip that you were here, and had been talking to him about manga. You'll want to come out, so she won't be suspicious when she comes home and you're not here."
Simon nodded. "Okay." He treated Clary and Jace to a suspicious stare. "Don't... break anything," he said dismissively. He pointed at Clary sternly. "I know what you're like."
"You caught me," she replied very dry, and he tossed her a quick smile as he exited the room.
Jace immediately shut - but didn't lock, for whatever reason - the door again, and leaned his back up against it, stance casual despite the awkwardness he surveyed Clary with. The tension was palpable. "So," he tried out experimentally. "Still doing truth or consequence?"
She shrugged. "Why not." She didn't phrase it as a question though, and waved a hand at him. "Your turn."
He appeared to think over it for a moment, eyes searching her face for something she didn't think she had. She swallowed as he opened his mouth, then closed it, looking strangely conflicted, then opened it again. She closed her eyes and pressed backwards until the sink dug into the small of her back, hands at her sides clenched into fists...
"Do you honestly find me attractive?"
Her eyes flew open from shock, and so did her mouth, her jaw hanging like a conker on a string. "What?!" She asked first, trying to comprehend the motive behind asking that question. Her fists unclenched and fell limp. "Why?"
His eyelids were half-lowered, eyes shadowed, and his face as blank as an empty document looks when you're trying to write an essay. She would think that this meant he didn't care, but living with Jonathan as her brother, who didn't like showing his emotions, she knew it wasn't that. It was that he couldn't show whatever he was feeling for fear of weakness. An inexplicable surge of protectiveness washed over her like a wave, telling her to comfort him somehow.
Instead, she answered his question.
"Um," she said, drawing out the consonant. Shutters seemed to go up in Jace's eyes. She scratched the back of her neck. "I- I never really considered that." She considered it. "I guess, yeah, you're kind of attractive, I just generally prefer to look at a person's personality rather than their face and I'm rambling this is really awkward I'm sorry." She stopped then, sighing in a way that seemed conflicted between hopelessness for her social skills and relief at not having to strain her knotted tongue any more.
Jace nodded. She noticed then, that he looked just as awkward as she felt, fiddling with his bottom lip and periodically clenching and unclenching his jaw. "I see," he said. The silence that fell after that was smothering.
After what felt like an eternity of thoughts spinning every which way, she grimaced. "I'm-I'm sorry if I made it awkward." She blurted, scrunching her eyes shut.
"Nothing to be sorry about," he grunted in response.
They looked at each other a moment longer. "Can we just pretend this never happened?"
He looked relieved beyond measure. "That would be perfect."
.
.
.
They'd sat in silence for a bit, then they talked about anything and everything, just small talk that ended with the two of them no closer but no further away from each other. Jace frequently glanced at his watch and commented how Isabelle had taken at least forty minutes by now, and the two of them had jokingly imagined what Alec and Magnus could be doing to slow her down.
"Maybe she didn't need slowing down," Clary pointed out from where she was sitting in the bath, legs hanging over the side like it was the arm of an armchair. "This is Isabelle we're talking about here. All you have to do is walk her past a clothes store and she'll drag you in."
Jace chuckled. It was warm, low kind of sound. "Or shoe store. Or jewellery store." Clary nodded in agreement as Jace shifted his position from where he'd had his legs crossed demurely with his back as erect and straight as a ruler, to slouching against the bathroom wall, with his legs sprawled out lazily in front of him. With his dominating height, then practically reached halfway across the Lightwoods' bathroom.
"Imagine if she came in right now and I'd accidentally left my jacket outside in plain sight." She chuckled to herself at the thought, but with a pang that all of their work in setting up the surprise party would have been wasted. "Isabelle's too bright to not notice it."
Jace nodded grimly. "You're right. And then everything would be ruined, and it would all be your fault."
She scrunched up her nose. "Wow. Harsh, aren't you?"
He nodded solemnly, then proceeded to stick his tongue out at her. She reciprocated the gesture.
"By the way," he said idly in the charged silence that followed. "You have icing on your face."
She whirled on him. "What! Since when?" She took her sleeve and dabbed furiously all over her face, until she realised she didn't want to ruin her nice blouse. Instead she propelled herself off the floor to have a look in the mirror, partly so she could find it, and partly to determine whether or not Jace was lying.
Jace wasn't lying. A tiny splotch of chocolate icing was smeared like a fingerprint about a centimetre from the left corner of her mouth. She ran the tap and used the water to splash on her face. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
He chuckled. "It's been on there since we ate the cupcakes Maryse went wrong with. I just didn't want to tell you because you seemed so oblivious it was almost adorable." She flushed dark red and dabbed some more water on her face to cool it down. She must have done it quite wildly, because a drop flew out and hit Jace from where he was still lounging on the floor. "Hey!" Came the cry. When he looked back up to see Clary drying her hands on the towel to the side, he commented "You're lucky you didn't splash any on your clothes. That's a really nice blouse."
She blushed again, though not as heavily as before; it was more of a barely there pink tinge. "Thanks," she muttered, meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She'd bought the blouse specifically for this occasion, since she and Izzy had been walking past a shop the week before and her friend had begged her to get it, saying it was the perfect blend between their tastes and looking willing to blackmail her into it. "As an early birthday present for me," Isabelle had said, then Clary had caved and bought it to wear here specifically, so her friend could have a pleasant surprise.
It was made of cotton, and it was a white, but embroidered with tiny birds, the stitches starting with an emerald green at the top, before flooding into a rich teal above the hips, and flowed into a dark blue at the bottom. It hit her mid-thigh, like a short dress, and was slightly cinched at the waist. Clary had worn it with a pair of navy leggings, and her cap of curls seemed even brighter in contrast to the cool colours.
She blushed further, then stepped away from the mirror to resume her seating arrangement. But as she stepped her heel came into contact with Jace's outstretched legs and then she was falling, before she collided with the tiled floor with a thump.
Jace scrambled onto his knees hastily, pale eyes blown wide. "Clary?" He asked, reaching out. "Are you alright?" Before she had the chance to reply, he continued, "Wow, you really are clumsy aren't you?"
"You're the one with the freakishly long legs, Rumpelstiltskin." She retorted, before sitting up swiftly, only to have her skull collide with Jace's as he bent over her in concern. "Ow," she whimpered, cradling her head and glaring at him at the same time.
Then it hit her just how close they were in proximity. Noses at most separated by two inches of space, she could feel every breath he took as it rushed over her cheek. She saw the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and her breath was hooked in her throat.
Did he lean in? She couldn't tell. She wanted him to lean in. Her head hurt, and the room spun, but that was one thought she managed to pick off the carousel in her mind. She wanted him to lean in.
She couldn't move herself. She was petrified, but she wasn't sure why. She could see the faint lattice of capillaries in her retina superimposed over her vision as the threads pulsed with the blood rushing to her head. She dimly registered Jace's lips leaning in to capture her own, and then she was aware of nothing but Jace, but everything about Jace.
She felt his hands, tentative at first, as they came to rest at the juncture of her shoulder blades, and then he was tilting her forwards until the kiss deepened. She braced her palms on the floor before she rose into a crouch, and shyly placed her left hand on his chest, and letting the other rest lightly on his shoulder. She felt the fire that seemed to be shooting through her veins, and every brush of breath or air against her exposed skin sent shivering tingles down her spine.
In a sudden surge of courage she let her arms snake round Jace's neck and pulled him down, closer, until there wasn't enough space for a sheet of paper to reside between them. In retaliation he slipped a hand through her crimson curls, and she shuddered against him. All the while they kept kissing.
Then the door to the bathroom opened.
The undeniably imposing figure of Isabelle Lightwood stood surveying them as they broke apart, gasping. Had the door opened? They hadn't heard it, certainly. Obviously. Clary twisted round to look. After an instant a broad grin lit her carved features and she squealed loudly enough to wake the people in the churchyard the next town over, and started rambling. Her words sailed right over Clary's head without comprehension. Jace awkwardly got to his feet, and offered Clary a hand to stand with, which she took. Isabelle's eyes fixed on their intertwined hands and she squealed louder.
Eventually her squealing attracted the unwanted attention of Simon Lewis, who stood agape at Jace and Clary's swollen lips. The redhead wanted to hide behind her now messy curtain of hair - she'd definitely be camouflaged, what with her face's incessant efforts to imitate a tomato - but she forced herself not to. Instead she took in, with some confusion, as Simon dropped a few coins into Isabelle's waiting open palm.
Jace scratched the back of his neck, and Clary cast her eyes to the tiled floor.
"Surprise?"
This was originally meant to be about a thousand words more, but I changed the plotline, so this happened.
What did you think? Review?
