Title: of girl talk and lollipops and one Jace Wayland
Summary: Isabelle tries to have a conversation with Clary. About a certain golden-haired boy. Three guesses who.

a change of pace. Set after that gorgeous, angsty scene in the Seelie Court~

"So…" Isabelle began without pretense, an edge of curiosity creeping into her voice, "… have you and Jace talked yet? About what happened?"

Clary's breath hitched in her throat. She felt a single drop of sweat start to descend down her temple and it would've been almost comical if not for the unsteady thrum of her pulse or the sudden tension in the air. So she evaded the question.

"I don't know what you mean." Even though she knew exactly what Isabelle meant.

But never one to back down, Isabelle shouldered onwards. "You know… in the Seelie Court." She waggled her eyebrows and Clary was tempted to tell her that if she was holding a lollipop she would look like a pedophile, but she figured that would only piss the other girl off.

So she didn't.

Instead, she said, "Ahem. Yes. Well, we haven't." So there. And left it at that.

But Isabelle was clearly on a war path, intent on humiliating Clary and rupturing whatever bubble of denial she had concealed herself in.

"Oh, come on," she needled, nearly begging now. "Isn't this what girlfriends are for? Gossiping about boys and romance?"

Clary felt inclined to tell her that, until very recently, Isabelle had thought her little more than an annoying nuisance and dead weight but kept her mouth shut. That was back when she first came to the Institute and learned about Shadowhunters; before she met Jace and found out that…

She cringed and something suspiciously like longing overcame her but that was ridiculous because Jace was her brother and god that was wrong.

Clary turned away, twirling a loose string from her tank top around a finger, trying to appear disinterested. It didn't work. She could feel the heat as it rushed to her cheeks, practically see a red hue emanate off her face. Damn her red hair and lack of skin pigment.

But Isabelle didn't seem to notice. Instead, she suddenly became very fidgety. She averted her gaze and the fringe of the cushion on her lap suddenly became very interesting. "You can tell me. That you love him, I mean. I'm pretty good at keeping secrets."

Clary shot her a blank stare, uncomprehending for a few moments. And then she laughed. It started out quietly, nervously even, but then morphed into a high-pitched, demented sort of laugh that turned into a squeak and then tapered off at the alarmed look on Isabelle's face. Clary couldn't really blame her for thinking she was delirious. She would too.

"W-why would you ever think something as stupid as that?" she stammered, eyes looking anywhere but at the girl in front of her, at the knowing smile on her face. As if it was blatantly obvious or something. "As soon as we got back, I brushed my teeth for hours! I chugged a whole bottle of Listerine in a minute! I-"
"If you did that you'd be dead," Isabelle frowned, crossing her arms and glaring at Clary.

"You know what I mean! I had nightmares! Could barely fall asleep-" she sputtered, vaguely aware that Isabelle had rolled her eyes and stopped listening. It wasn't as if she couldn't stop thinking about the curve of his lips. Or the feelings that overcame her as his mouth met hers. Or the way they seemed to melt into each other's embrace as if they were one and the same…

"Oh, by the angel. Will you just shut up, Clary!" Isabelle shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation and breaking Clary out of her reverie. She wasn't aware that she hadn't stopped talking, hurling insults at Jace's face and his bad breath and his bad technique and his strong arms and…

Oh god she was a wreck.

A few days ago she would've slapped herself for getting so weak in the knees and psycho-analyzing almost every thought that entered her mind. Now she thought that it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Isabelle snorted. "Fine, Clary. Fine. If you really, don't want to talk about it, I'll leave you alone. Not like it doesn't hurt my feelings to know that you don't trust me," she sighed dramatically.

Clary very nearly beamed in silent appreciation and made a mental note not to sneer when Simon undoubtedly brought the girl up later that night.

In response, Isabelle shot her an acid look that clearly said "we're not done yet" but didn't pursue it any further.

fin.

i've always wanted to be able to waggle my eyebrows. then i could scare little children away. because they annoy me. xD