Orienting Section:
Now where am I going to sleep? Not that she minded sharing a bed with Simon, but he hadn't exactly left her any room. She considered poking him awake, but he looked so peaceful. Besides, she wasn't sleepy. She was just reaching for the sketchpad under the pillow when a knock sounded on the door.
She padded barefoot across the room and turned the doorknob quietly. It was Jace. Clean, in jeans and a gray shirt, his washed hair a halo of damp gold. The bruises on his face were already fading from purple to faint gray, and his hands were behind his back.
"Were you asleep?" he asked. There was no contrition in his voice, only curiosity.
"No." Clary stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her. "Why would you think that?"
He eyed her baby blue cotton tank top and sleep shorts set.
"No reason."
"I was in bed most of the day," she said, which was technically true. Seeing him, her jitter level had shot up about a thousand percent, but she saw no reason to share that information. "What about you? Aren't you exhausted?"
He shook his head. "Much like the postal service, demon hunters never sleep. 'Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these—'"
"You'd be in major trouble if gloom of night did stay you," she pointed out. He grinned. Unlike his hair, his teeth weren't perfect. An upper incisor was slightly, endearingly chipped. She gripped her elbows. It was chilly in the hallway and she could feel goose bumps starting up her arms.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"' Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater meta-ethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but—"
"I'm going back to bed." Clary reached for the doorknob. He slid nimbly between her and the door.
"I'm here," he said, "because Hodge reminded me it was your birthday."
Clary let an exasperated sigh go.
"Not until tomorrow."
He shrugged.
"There's no reason not to start celebrating now."
Clary eyed him.
"You're avoiding Isabelle and Alec."
"Of course. Everyone wants to talk to me, but you. I bet you don't want to talk to me." Strangely, Jace only wanted to talk to her right now.
"No, I want to eat. I'm starving."
Jace produced a paper bag from behind his back.
"I stole it from the kitchen when Isabelle wasn't looking. I make a mean cheese sandwich." He winked.
Clary considered him.
He'd wanted to follow her into that hotel to make sure she stayed safe. He'd watched her stand up to the incredibly creepy Silent Brothers, risk her life for her friend without a pause, and felt his heart jump for her at every moment of danger. Not to mention his powerful reaction to that dress Isabelle forced on her for Magnus's party.
He was unequivocally, undeniably in love with her.
Jace had never been in love so he wasn't quite sure what to do with his feelings. Clary had a lot on her plate right now—her mother's kidnapping and the ever-present worry for her, not to mention finding out about her shadowhunter heritage were both far more than enough to focus on. Pile on his feelings for her? Jace had no intention of making them known, not yet, but he wouldn't let her spend her birthday in a chaotic, miserable, adrenaline-fueled state. These strange new feelings wouldn't allow that.
"Alright. It's a little late for a picnic, though, don't you think? I mean, Central Park is full of-"
"Faeries, I know." Jace waved a hand.
"I was going to say muggers, but sure, that too. I pity the mugger who tries to mess with you, though."
"That's a wise attitude, I commend you for that." Jace said, smug. "I was thinking of the greenhouse, actually."
Clary didn't say anything, just closed her mouth, her eyes shining. Jace took that as agreement and led her through the Institute to the stairs that opened to the greenhouse.
"It's dark." Clary said, interrupting the long silence. Jace glanced back at her as they climbed the stairs. He offered a hand. Clary hesitantly accepted. Only a few days ago, she would have refused his hand on principle, complaining that he was babying her or acting condescending or something else ridiculous. Jace saw no reason to drop his hand from hers as they arrived at the top of the landing, where the twinkling lights of Manhattan shone through the glass walls of the greenhouse and illuminated the darkness. Clary glanced at him, confused at what was now, clearly, a show of affection. Jace dropped her hand, but not without a small smile.
Jace settled down on the floor, next to a green shrub with little flowers. Clary, still a bit hesitant, folded her knees under her a few feet from him. They dug into the food.
The conversation wasn't exactly easy. The electricity between them crackled and popped when their eyes met, Jace could feel it in his spine and fingertips. He found himself talking about things he hadn't talked to anyone about, not even Alec—namely his eccentric childhood and his father. The hole that usually opened up inside him when he even thought of such painful memories was a little smaller, a little more bearable with Clary around. He found he could speak without a lump in his throat, without wanting to throw himself recklessly into a nest of demons and fight until the external pain distracted him sufficiently from the pain inside. Clary's past was just as strange, just as painful in its own way. She understood pain; he didn't have to explain it, she just knew it. She knew what it was to lose a parent, perhaps not to the extent Jace had, but it was enough.
The strike of the clock broke their conversation.
"Midnight." Jace interrupted himself mid-sentence. He offered a hand to her again to pull her to her feet. Clary looked bewildered as he directed her gaze towards a plant a little ways off from where they were sitting.
Jace watched her beautiful expression as thr flower bloomed, adoring the way her eyes lit up with wonder and her lips parted in a soundless gasp. Then her smile came, creeping over the wonder and lighting her face with a beauty he had never noticed in other girls before. She glowed to him. Not physically, of course, but in his mind a fuzzy halo of warmth surrounded her.
"Do they bloom every night?"
"Only at midnight." Her eyes were the same green of the plants. "Happy birthday, Clarissa Fray." Jace tried to keep the husky wonder from his own voice as he watched her reaction. I had to see you smile today. It was a selfish need on my part, but for once I'm glad for my selfishness.
"Thank you." She said, her voice soft, vulnerable.
Jace dug the witchlight from his pocket and presented part II of his birthday gift. She rewarded him with another gorgeous smile. He wanted to throw himself on her, kiss every part of her, but he held back.
The tension between them was almost unbearable. The sweet scent of the greenhouse, the sparkling lights of the city, the heat of the air-
This was a bad idea, Jace realized suddenly. He'd picked the most romantic place possible for a nighttime birthday dinner, and he'd swore to himself that he would keep his feelings under control until Clary was in a place to consider them.
In the middle of their conversation, he forgot what, she slipped her spaghetti strap from her shoulder, showing him a scar. She wasn't wearing a bra, he realized suddenly. Nothing but the sheer cotton separated him and the creamy skin of her shoulder. He looked away quickly, the urge to taste her shoulder, tear her shirt off and touch her everywhere he could reach too much for him to hide.
"It's getting late. We should head downstairs."
Clary's smile fell and she looked down at the ground. She nodded, picking up a stray twig from between the stones and running her fingers along it to strip it of the tiny, budding leaves. Neither of them made to get up.
"Have you and Isabelle ever… dated?" She asked suddenly.
Jace thought he might have misheard. What were we talking about? Something about turtles and tattoos? Wait, that can't be right. Jace couldn't really listen through the raging blood pumping in his ears.
"Isabelle?"
"Simon was wondering." Clary clarified quickly.
"Maybe he should ask her." Jace bristled at the mention of the Mundane boy. Let him wonder what he has to compete with, Jace thought with grim satisfaction. He also didn't want to talk about other girls in front of her. It was pointless; no other girl, past or present, mattered to him the way she did.
"I'm not sure he wants to. Anyway, never mind. It's none of my business." She looked put out by his noncommittal answer. Her reaction made Jace inexplicably happy, and he did something he didn't usually do. He elaborated.
"The answer is no. There may have been a time when one or the other of us considered it, but she's like a sister to me. It would be strange."
Clary seemed relieved. He liked that she seemed relieved, but he shouldn't. He shouldn't let his heart race at wondering why that information might relieve her.
"So you and Isabelle never-"
"Never."
Clary swallowed hard and looked him straight in the eye. A little smile slipped through.
"She hates me." Clary laughed uncomfortably.
"No, she doesn't. You just make her nervous because she's always been the only girl in a crowd of adoring boys and now she isn't anymore."
"But she's so beautiful."
"So are you, and very different from how she is, and she can't help but notice that. She's always wanted to be small and delicate, you know. She hates being taller than most boys."
Clary was frozen at that, for some reason. She was staring at him with a far-off, funny look. Jace's heart thumped loudly.
"We should go downstairs." He repeated, trying to convince himself of that idea. He wasn't going to tell her how he felt. He wasn't.
She should really stop looking at him like she wanted him to.
"All right." The words were faint, unconvincing. She licked her lips, her eyes drifting to his lips before hurriedly focusing on a plant behind him. Jace stilled at that.
Clary stood, not noticing what was surely a longing look on his face, and started to walk towards the door to the greenhouse exit.
Jace almost sighed, but he stopped it, telling himself that he was happy things would end there, that the night was over. He'd gotten through it without revealing his feelings to her.
Then she twisted, as if out of surprise, and their bodies connected. He put a hand out to steady her, she grabbed at his shirt, and passion flamed.
He wasn't sure who kissed whom first, whose eyes blazed with desire first, but her lips were on his and it was as though a thousand stars exploded behind his closed eyes.
Jace thought about pulling back, denying it, letting it rest for a while. This is the wrong moment for this, the wrong situation. With her mother missing, and the weight of discovering her shadowhunter heritage, Jace doubted she could consider what he wanted from her with the weight he felt it deserved.
I'm definitely in love with her, Jace knew with sudden clarity. He felt as though she'd slid under his skin and warmed him from the inside out. A sudden calm settled through him. He was content, peaceful, for once in his chaotic life. He didn't want anything else in that moment than to never stop kissing her, never disentangle her body from his.
Please let this never stop.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. The warmth in his core grew. Her hands twisted in his hair, her soft chest pressed against his. Jace was thawing from the inside out, and it was all her doing.
Then that damn bird.
It came so close to Jace's head that it nearly clipped him with its wings. Jace cried out, drawing away, and the moment was broken.
"Don't panic, but we've got an audience." He said, disappointed but unable to fully let the moment pass. He didn't want to let her go. He wouldn't let her go, not after that.
"If he's here Hodge won't be far behind." What the hell am I saying? "We should go." Jace wanted to take back the words as soon as they left his lips, but he knew he was right.
"Is he spying on you?" Clary hissed. "Hodge, I mean."
"No, he just likes to come up here to think. Too bad—we were having such a scintillating conversation."
Clary stepped back, and Jace let her go with more than a little reluctance. Her hand slipped into his, though, and he held it firmly.
They escaped down the stairway with Hugo's eyes on their back, falling into silence. Clary would glance at him from time to time as though she wanted to say something, or maybe she wanted him to say something. Jace didn't know what to say. He'd already gone too far, kissing her like that. Now he wanted to say a million things to her, and every single one of them was too selfish to let past his lips.
"Thanks for the birthday picnic." Clary leaned up against the wall by her door. Jace couldn't bring himself to let her hand go and watch her walk into her room.
"Are you going to sleep?" He asked, looking at their intertwined fingers. It was like some miracle, the way they fit in one another. The warmth in his heart faltered and sputtered like a weak flame as he realized she was leaving him.
"Aren't you tired?" Clary asked.
"I've never been more awake." Jace said. His voice came out much more earnest than he had intended. He didn't seem to have control over himself around her.
Clary's gaze darted between his eyes, trying to read him. She was as unreadable to him as he suspected he was to her.
"Jace." Clary said suddenly, alarm sparking in her. "Simon's in my room."
Her words were like a knife in his exposed heart. Jace took a step back, her hand falling from his, and, though he tried to stop it, he felt his expression cooling into a flat mask. The mundane, who was so obviously in love with her too, was in her room at this time of night? Waiting for her?
Simon chose that moment to step out into the hall.
"Hey." Simon's eyes flashed between the two of them. "What are you two doing? In the dark? Together?" His hair was messy and he was squinting without his glasses. It was clear that he'd been sleeping in her bed.
Clary glanced at Jace. His face was a hard, unreadable neutral, but there was something flinty in the way he looked at Simon. Clary's stomach dropped and she felt a bit sick.
"He was wishing me happy birthday." Clary said softly. Her voice stuck in her dry throat.
"Looks like you need to get a Mundane calendar, Wayland. It's not 'til tomorrow. Points for effort, though." Simon seemed a little too smug in pointing this out.
"What a terrible misunderstanding. I'll be sure to say it exactly on time next time." Jace looked haughty and bored. Clary wondered what had happened to the gentle boy she'd seen mere seconds ago. He was back to the sarcastic warrior now—untouchable. "We've tolerated your mundane inside the Institute, Clary, a huge violation of our rules, but we really have to draw the line at housing him. This is a sanctuary for shadowhunters, not scruffy, unwashed lovers. Have him out by the morning." Jace's lip curled up in an insulting indication of disgust as he stared at Simon. Simon's cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. Jace cast her an iron look of contempt and turned to walk briskly down the hall and out of sight.
Clary was frozen in place, watching him go with her mouth wide open.
"What did he mean by 'unwashed'?" Simon was outraged. "I smell like roses."
Simon's words knocked her from her stupor. Clary blinked at him.
"Geez, I wonder what it would take to earn an invite to this exclusive shadowhunter club. Maybe I could convince a warlock to spell me into shitting gold? Do you think that would do it?" Simon muttered. "Clary, aren't you going to sleep?"
"I have to—we were talking, and—I have to say something." Clary stumbled over her words, her feet moving before her brain knew what she was doing. She hurried down the hall, breaking out into a jog.
She stopped in front of his door, still not entirely sure what she was doing or what she would say. She knocked anyway, her heart racing.
