Heeey, guys. So, these past two weeks have been pretty damn exhausting, but I wrote a one-shot! I'm gonna try to write one or two one-shots per month this year, so yes. That might be happening. Also, I got into college (!), so that's nice. Anyway, as always, thanks to my wonderful beta, IWriteNaked. Your comments were hilarious, and you're the best. :) Special thanks to spikeyhairgood and DeathCabForMari for always being awesome, and to the three of you together for helping me pick a name. Team H&H, BL&A, SS&A, and everything else. Love youuu. :)

Also, this is a one-shot, and thus not open to continuation.

I hope you guys like this!

**I don't own The Mortal Instruments**

"Oh dear God," I say, lips pursed. "This is a terrible idea."

Jace's eyes are playful as he takes in the scene before us. There is a red, slightly rusted bicycle on the ground, and tall trees on either side of the narrow street.

"This is the best damn idea we've ever had."

"It was just your idea."

"Well, then, it's my best one yet."

I roll my eyes, remembering what had happened a few hours earlier. We were hanging out in my apartment, which was just across the hallway from his. We've slowly become friends ever since I moved in a few months ago, and we're comfortable enough to hang out at each other's apartments all the time. It was my turn today, though, and we were eating popcorn and watching an episode of The Suite Life of Zack and Cody in which Zack and Cody got a bike.

"I miss bike riding," Jace piped up. "I used to do it all the time with my dad when I was a kid."

"I've never ridden a bike before," I replied simply, shoving a handful of popcorn into my mouth.

I felt his judgment before I fully processed it. When I turned to look at him, his mouth was slightly parted.

"You've...what?"

I shrugged. "We lived in an apartment, and my mom didn't like bikes. She said that they were unsafe, and that I'd probably die if I tried to ride one too often, so she never let me try."

"Oh my God," Jace said, standing up. "I have to go. I'll be back," he added, "but, right now, I have to go."

"Okay," I said, flabberghasted. "Um, bye."

He waved, but he was out the door before I could fully process what was happening. Why was he so offended about my lack of experience with bikes?

And now I understand. He wasn't offended; he'd found himself on a mission from the second those words stumbled out of my stupid mouth.

Because, right now, Jace is going to teach me how to ride a bike.

"Okay," he says, holding it up. "It's simple. Elementary school kids learn this all the time."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for your vote of confidence."

He flashes me a grin. "Always."

"Okay," I say, looking at the contraption he's holding. It doesn't look that complicated, but I'm not exactly known for my coordination skills, so I'm also worried about that. I bite my lip, trying to figure it out, assessing the situation to my best ability.

"I can help," Jace tells me. "Just...here." He tightens his grip on the bike. "Get on. Don't worry about falling."

I look up at his eyes; they look serious. Hesitantly, I get on the bike. The seat is uncomfortable; it digs into the wrong body parts, making me wince slightly as I adjust it so that it doesn't feel like something is being shoved up my—

"You're good," Jace says. "Okay, I'm gonna drag this out a little bit, so hold on to the bike."

"Jaaaace," I whine. "Can we not do this?"

"You need to learn how to ride a bike."

"This is the 21st century!" I argue. "Why do I need to learn how to ride a contraption that I don't need anymore?"

"Because," he says, exasperated, "a lot of things could go wrong."

"Like?" I stare at him, prompting him to answer.

"Likeeeee, we could have a zombie apocalypse type of thing, and we could run out of oil for cars, and then the only thing you'd have left is a bike."

"That is literally the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"It could definitely happen."

I shake my head. "Fine. Okay. Let's do this."

He moves the bike along, and I feel like I'm gonna fall, but he stays steady. The wind kisses my face, making my hair fly all over the place and my eyes sting for a second. I hold my breath as we continue to ride along. Halfway down the street, he slows down.

"Listen to me," he says, and he's going slow enough to make me wonder whether or not he's going to stop altogether. "You're gonna do it on your own."

"Jace," I say, panic in my voice, "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Jace, I literally cannot do this."

"Clary," he says, his voice clear, "you can do this. Listen to me. Place your feet on the pedals."

I struggle as I look down, trying to find the goddamn pedals. Frick on a stick, this is hard. I find the pedals with my feet and, once I'm sure that I have a good hold, I look back up.

"Good," he says, approval in both his voice and his eyes. "So you're going to pedal and then control it. Whenever you wanna stop, just use the brakes on the handles and then hop off the bike fast. I'll be running along with you."

This all sounds so complicated. "Wait a sec," I say. "I'm gonna fall."

"No," he says, "you're not."

And then he lets go.

I shout a string of too-loud curses and try to remember everything he told me. Pedal. Control the bike. Use the handle. When I wanna stop, I can just use the brakes on the handles. I'm gonna be fine.

I keep cursing, though, because it's keeping my mind clear. Soon enough, I'm taking off, the wind slapping against my face. I try to go slowly, but it makes the handle more unstable, so I take off, the wind getting harsher as I pick up speed. I've never felt something so liberating. I feel like I'm free, like I'm floating. I look to my right, and then to my left, where Jace is running along, looking at me.

And then I reach the end of the street.

Jace. I want to call out his name, but my breath is caught in my throat. Use the brakes, Clary.

I hit them too abruptly and end up nearly falling, but Jace is there. I think he must've guessed that this was going to happen, because he was swearing, too, using some of my favorite four-letter words as he made sure that I wasn't hurt.

"I should've told you to do that slowly," he says. "I forgot."

"I'm okay," I say to him with a reassuring smile. "Besides, that was incredible."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he tells me, helping me to my feet. He looks at his phone and sighs. "Listen, I have to go, but we're still on for dinner at my place, right?"

"Of course," I say, dusting off my pants. "I'll see you at seven."

The two of us go in different directions. Because he's a dork, he rides his bike to wherever the hell he's going, and I walk back to our apartment building.

When he opens the door for me, he can't help but show surprise on his face upon the sight of my soaked, shivering self.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Can I come in?" I say, my teeth chattering. "I'm kind of freezing over here, Wayland."

"Oh, yeah." He opens the door widely and steps aside so that I make it in. "Let me go get you a towel or something."

Here's what happened: my roommate, Isabelle, is a mess. She lost her keys, so, naturally, she took mine. This all happened while I was napping after getting home from my bike riding lesson with Jace, so I didn't try to stop her. Because I was sleeping. Anyway, so I went out to have coffee with my friend Maia, and then, as I was walking back, already five minutes late to dinner, it began to pour. Like, insanely. The rain made me feel ten pounds heavier as I ran through the streets and into the building, praying to God or whoever is out there that I didn't fall and break something.

Which is how I ended up here, in Jace's apartment, dripping and late and with shame making my cheeks go red.

He hands me a navy blue towel to dry myself with. "Do you wanna just change into some of my clothes?"

"That would be awesome," I say, smiling in gratitude. "Thanks."

"No problem," he says. "Come on."

We pass by his kitchen and living room and enter his bedroom. "How's the search for a roommate going?" I ask.

"Good," he tells me. "I think I found someone."

"What's his name?"

"Jordan," he replies. We stand in front of his closet. I look around while he tries to figure out what to give me. As per usual, his room is pristine; his walls are white, and everything else is either navy blue or brown.

He hands me a hoodie. "That should be like a dress for you, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll change into it now."

I go into his bathroom and change. I'm kind of a shaky mess, and part of it is because I'm gonna be in his apartment wearing nothing but a hoodie and my too-wet underwear.

"Clary?"

His voice makes me freeze, and a beat passes before I find my own. "Yeah?"

"I'm putting your wet clothes in the washing machine, okay?"

I let out a breath. "You don't have to. I mean, you can just put them in the dryer."

"Don't be stupid. Just give them to me when you're done."

I slip out of my jeans and sweater. Thankfully, my underwear isn't as wet as those two. I dry out my hair a little, put on his warm, black hoodie, and exit the bathroom, my wet clothes bunched up in one hand and the wet towel in the other.

"Thank you," I say to him again as I hand him the clothes.

"Don't worry about it." The two of us exit his room and walk out to the living room. "Just watch TV or something while I take this down."

"Sure," I say, sitting on the couch. My phone had (thankfully) been salvaged, because I put it in my bra and clutched my chest to keep it from falling the second it began raining. It's a little wet, but I use Jace's oversized hoodie to dry it. I spent all of my money at the coffee shop, and I didn't bring my bag when I went out, so I'm good.

I browse through the channels on his TV, but I make a point of sending Izzy a myriad of text messages, all ranging from what the hell, Lightwood? to are you EFFING insane? to you owe me so hard it's not even funny, and also i hate you. Once I get that out of my system, I go back to focusing on the TV in front of me. When I find a channel that's playing The Nanny, I stop looking for any others. The Nanny is the shit. Seriously.

By the time Jace walks back in, I'm totally into this episode. I ship Franny and Mr. Sheffield so hard, it's not even funny.

"The Nanny?" Jace plops down on the couch, eyebrows raised.

"What, are you complaining?"

"You know I love The Nanny."

"Who doesn't love The Nanny?"

"That's a very good point."

We watch the show in silence, commenting once in a while on some of the things they say to each other. When the next commercial break starts, however, Jace stands up.

"I have to take care of the food," Jace says.

"I'll come with you."

As I'm standing up, my phone chimes; I have a new message from Isabelle Lightwood.

Oh boy.

I unlock my phone and read the text. Okay yeah you hate me I know and I'm sorry! I'll be home before midnight. You had a dinner with Jace today, yeah? Just stay over for a few hours watching movies or whatever. I'll try to make it home ASAP. Sorry!

I might actually murder her.

I swear to God, if you're not home before midnight, I will throw you off the Empire State Building.

I set my phone down on the couch and walk over to the kitchen with Jace. "What were you making, anyway?"

"Just a pasta." He shrugs. "I'm not very advanced in the culinary arts."

"Me neither," I confess, looking at the amazing, mouthwatering pasta he cooked. "This looks amazing."

"Yeah? It's just missing the sauce."

"I'll just stand back and watch, then."

"Clary Fray, always checking me out."

I roll my eyes. "You caught me," I joke, leaning back against the kitchen island as he gathers supplies from the pantries and fridge.

He tells me about his day as he cooks, just because I asked. He was working at the university, and then he went to his study group for one of his classes. I listen as he tells me about his struggle to understand some of the terms and their applications, but I'm mostly focusing on the way he moves, with grace, as if he's been doing this for a long time. It's kind of attractive, honestly. I try not to feel embarrassed or flustered by that thought, but my mind, as per usual, is detached from my body, and I feel myself turning pink as I try to shift my focus back to his words.

But he's so attractive.

I mean, it's a thought that's been lingering in the back of my mind for months. As I've gotten to know him, I've gotten to find him even more and more attractive; he was handsome before, sure, but, for me, a person's personality is as important as their physical appearance when I'm getting to know them, and the fact that he's generally a cool person has made him a million times more attractive to me. I don't know. I look at him, and I think of those guys in books and movies, the ones everyone likes because they're so likable and gorgeous it's insane.

That's Jace Wayland.

"—test this week." He looks at me. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yup. So how many more of these study group meetings are you having before the test?" I hope to God that he hasn't moved on to a different class.

"One more, I think."

I sigh internally out of relief and give him a smile. "You'll be fine."

"I hope so. Here," Jace says, holding out a spoon, "taste this."

I blow on the spoon and take it hesitantly. The sauce is seriously good. Like, fuck. Jesus. I am starving.

"Dude," I say, eyes wide, "we need to eat, like, right now, or I will lose my shit."

"Cups are right there." He points to the cupboard next to the fridge. "You take care of the drinks, and I'll serve the food."

"What do you wanna drink?"

"Sprite."

"Dork," I say, taking two cups from the cupboard and opening the fridge to take out the Sprite. I pour myself some, too, because he doesn't have any Pepsi or Coke. Because he's lame. By the time I whirl around, he's taking the two plates into the living room. I follow him to the couch, where we're apparently eating.

He's officially my favorite person.

I explain to him why I was dripping when I came in earlier. I tell him about Isabelle, though he already knows that, although she's great, she's also insane. I tell him about the coffee and the running and the phone in the bra and then, finally, about how I came to be standing here. And then I read him some of the texts that I sent Isabelle, and he looks like he's about to choke.

After that, we watch The Nanny. He agrees to let me hang until Isabelle gets back, of course, because he's Jace, and he's a decent human being. We watch as The Nanny turns into George Lopez, which we both also happen to love, and then we watch that in silence.

"I need to go put your clothes in the dryer," Jace says. "Shit."

"Okay," I say, watching as he hurriedly puts on his shoes and runs outside.

He's so damn cute, oh God.

The episode of George Lopez is almost at its end when Jace walks in and says that he has put my clothes in the dryer. After the episode ends, he asks me if I want to play Monopoly.

Do I ever.

We walk into his room, where all of his board games are. I honestly don't know why he needs to keep his things in his room, since the entire apartment belongs to him, but I don't question him that much. Instead, I walk in after him, back into the familiar setting of the plain, organized room. It's still weird to me that his room isn't a chaotic mess. Seriously, he makes my room look like a tornado's gone through it.

But I like him for it.

Soon enough, we're on his floor, the game spread out in front of us. I start off, and, right off the bat, I buy some property. I watch as Jace lands himself in jail during the second round, and he curses at the world while I laugh. Because seriously. On the second effing round.

He has a talent.

By the time he finally gets himself out of jail, I have eight properties, and he calls for a break. I grin, smug, and get up, following him into the kitchen. Seriously, he's such a sore loser.

I mean, he technically hasn't lost yet, but let's be real. He's losing. Hard.

I get a glass of water. "I didn't know someone could lose that hard."

His eyes narrow. "Oh, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass."

"My ass isn't sorry. In fact, my ass is beating yours."

"Oh, shut up, Fray."

"Make me, Wayland."

I'm very conscious of the fact that, somehow, this has turned into a kind-of-serious argument. I'm backed up against the wall, and Jace grabs my—his—hoodie's drawstrings and tugs at them, pulling me closer. I hold my breath as he leans in, my heartbeat quickening by the second. He is so dangerously close. I feel him breathing, and my heart is singing.

His lips brush against mine, so softly and briefly that I feel as if I imagined it, before he stands back up.

Before I can register what happened, he flashes me a smile. "It worked, didn't it?"

I shake my head and straighten myself up. "You absolute pissweasel."

"Saucy."

"I'm gonna win so hard, Wayland."

"Bring it on, Fray."

My heart races throughout the entire game. I'm still unsure as to whether that whole interaction back there was real or not, because damn.

I wish I would've kissed him back, harder, enough to make him stay.

I wish I would've been the one doing the taunting.

I wish for a lot of things.

Unsurprisingly, almost three hours later, when the clock strikes eleven thirty, I win the game. I whoop and yell and let out happy sounds. I even do a happy dance, which is more a compilation of random, awkward movements than it is a dance, and Jace stands back, amused.

"I woooooooon." I walk up to him. "I won, Wayland. Suck my dick."

He raises an eyebrow. "Only if you return the favor."

"Why, Wayland? You didn't win."

"Do it out of the kindness of your heart, then."

"What heart?" I grin. "Just accept the fact that I beat you. You lost. You lost hard, Wayland."

"Oh God." And then: "Shut up."

My grin turns wicked, playful. "Make me."

And, oh, does he ever.

His lips crash down on mine, a mix of pent up sexual tension and emotion from the months that have passed by, I think. Even if what this kiss is made of was harbored here in the past few hours, I don't mind, because it is glorious. I wrap my hands around his neck and jump up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he backs me up against the wall. He is kissing me in ways I only dreamed of.

Yup. He definitely shut me up.

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! xo