This was written for the femficexchange, and the summary is the prompt. Beta'd by matthewdaddariospecs on tumblr.
They're lying on Izzy's bed after the Cup has been put away for safekeeping. Fully clothed, of course. Clary is on her side, facing Isabelle, and they're just talking. Because, even though Clary's best friend throughout her whole life has been Simon, she's watched enough TV to know this is how Girl Talk™ goes down.
"So, what did you and Jace try before we got there?" Izzy asks.
Clary exhales a laugh at the memory. "I started yelling at Jace for cheating on me. I got to slap him in the face; it was pretty great."
Izzy smiles. "You'd think he'd be the type to cheat, but I find it's always the ones who look innocent..." She launches into the story of an ex of hers, a vampire from Queens who called her three different names on one date.
"Why did you stay with him?"
"He knew how to use his teeth, if you know what I mean." Izzy winks. The reason Clary is so captivated by this is very explainable. She's jealous of Isabelle's eyelashes. That's all, really.
They continue exchanging terrible guy stories, although Isabelle has a few more up her sleeve than she does. Clary has only really dated one guy, Eric, who used to be in Simon's band. It lasted almost a year, and she really loved him. Their breakup isn't a funny story, though, so she doesn't tell it. But she's been on a few awkward first dates, so Izzy doesn't do all the talking.
They've been talking for maybe half an hour. Clary and Isabelle started out on opposite sides of the bed, looking straight at each other, but they seem to have migrated. Every time Clary laughs, she ducks her head, almost subconsciously moving ever-so-slightly closer to Izzy. Clary's not sure it matters how they got here, but they're close now, and she can't help but think, What if?
She grew up in New York; it's not like she doesn't know lesbians exist. Except, that's not her. She dated Eric, loved him, and she and Jace definitely kissed. She could feel his muscles through his shirt, and—yep, not a lesbian. But if there were any girl, it would definitely be Izzy. She would be anyone's choice; it's empirical.
That thought isn't exactly new. Clary's not sure when it first crossed her mind, but the amount of time she's spent thinking about it is not insignificant. It's dangerous, at times like this. When she's inches away from Izzy, and it would be so easy to lean in, close the gap, just see what would happen. If she kissed girls, she would kiss Izzy right now.
But she doesn't. There's some shadowhunting emergency ten minutes later, and they don't.
She kisses Jace back the next time he kisses her, and it doesn't feel wrong at all. And she knows that bisexual people exist—she lives in New York, after all, and has met Magnus Bane—but her life is complicated enough as it is. She doesn't kiss girls.
There's another party they have to go to, for work. There has been word of ravener demons preying on mundanes at a club on the Upper East Side, and Lydia decides they should go check it out. It's probably to distract them from Valentine and everything, and Clary should maybe be indignant about this, but she doesn't say anything. A distraction is welcome.
What's also welcome is getting ready with Izzy. She feigns outrage at the tiny silver dress Izzy brandishes at her.
"Come on, you'll look hot," Izzy says. "And there's a special pocket for weapons. Those demons won't know what hit them."
She acquiesces, and retreats behind the screen in the corner of the room to put on the dress. Clary's fingers tremble as she unlaces the string that holds this monstrosity of a dress closed. She finally gives up, and asks for help.
Izzy hops off the bed and stalks over, flashing Clary a smug look. She takes the dress, and Clary watches her unlace it with comparative ease. Her fingers aren't shaking.
It's not like Clary to be this nervous. She's just been overthinking all of this. Thinking too much about what it would be like to be with Izzy, if she were into that. There's no way she should be giving this so much attention right now, with her mom still missing, Valentine looming over everyone, Alec's impending loveless wedding... but she can't help it.
Izzy hands her back the dress. "Thanks, Iz, love you." It just slips out.
Clary's eyes dart away, and she hurries back behind the screen. She peels off her clothes as fast as she can and pulls on the dress, like maybe if she just moves quickly enough she can shake it off, and what she just said will go away.
When Clary steps out from behind the screen, wearing the dress, she could swear that Izzy gives her a once-over. But Izzy doesn't say anything. This is fine. If Izzy isn't freaking out, neither is she. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Girl friends (notice the space in between) tell each other that they love each other all the time. Clary is definitely overreacting.
"I told you you would look hot," Izzy says, smirking.
"Can you tie this for me?" Clary turns around, and Izzy comes over and starts to. Clary can hear Izzy's breath, right behind her, maybe closer than strictly necessary. She hopes Izzy can't hear her heartbeat racing, the way her shallow breath catches over and over again in her throat.
"Done," Izzy says.
Clary spins around to thank her, too fast. Izzy doesn't have time to step back, and suddenly they're standing way too close. Clary waits for her to step away, put even a little space between them, but she doesn't. Clary looks up at Izzy, and she thinks she finally understands the expression "bedroom eyes."
Izzy raises a hand, places it on Clary's shoulder. Both of their eyes are on it, Izzy staring like her limb is moving outside of her control. Clary's glad it's there, on her shoulder, because it means she doesn't have to look into Izzy's eyes. If she did that, something bad might happen. As long as she doesn't look into her eyes...
If she kissed girls, she would kiss her.
Apparently, Clary kisses girls.