AN: Hello peoples! How are you doing? I am exceedingly hyper today, hence the extra punctuation. Stupid allergies.. Not that that has anything to do with anything. Anyways, thank you so so so much for all the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites! Enjoy!

VMars lover: Yes, good luck indeed... Whoops that sounded creepy... Thank you!

Meeeeeee: Yup! YAY CLEANING! Actually though I kind of hate cleaning... I don't use electronics after when I'm supposed to be asleep, but sometimes I just stare at the wal thinking for like an hour... I guess that's a little weird? Thank you for the review!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments.

"Alec, move your hand in a more circular motion if you're going to spray that," Jace chided.

"And you might want to use the spray on the counter, it's a better brand," Clary added.

"Okay, forks, (note: this was autocorrected to forks from dorks, but I decided to keep it anyway because why not) we get it. You love cleaning. You are the masters of cleaning. But I don't really see you having the authority to tell us what types of motion we should use to clean the table with. Seriously. Calm down." This came from Isabelle, and let's just say she didn't look or sound like the happiest person in the world at that moment.

"Oh, er, sorry, force of habit. But by the way, you should try separating lights and dar- you know what, maybe I'll just finish that sentence some other time." It was a good catch, but it was hard for her to hide her embarrassment. It was a bit cliche, and it people said this all the time, but her face was in a race to be a deeper red than her hair, and it wasn't too far behind.

There was a slight awkward silence, but soon everyone was back to chattering slightly and doing their respective jobs. This was under the eagle eyes of Clary and Jace, by the way, and for people who had only met once, they were leading pretty well together.

Isabelle, who had gone back into her room, poked her head out of the door.

"Hey, Jace, can you come in here for a second? I'm not quite sure where I should put my sock drawer."

"Oh yeah, the bottom left is fi-" he tried to say.

"Actually, it'd be better if you could come in and show me," she responded, seemingly trying to signal something to him with her pair of obsidian eyes.

"Okay... I'll be right there...?" He put down the mop he was using to scrub the floor and warily made his way to her door. When he was right in the doorway, a manicured hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in, quickly attempting to shut the door without slamming it. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very successful attempt.

Neither could see it, but four heads looked up from their work and turned inquisitively to the room. All they could hear was a conversation that included a little bit of muffled yelling. Back inside, said conversation was in full swing.

"Have you talked to her yet?" questioned a frustrated Izzy.

"No... I mean, your apartment isn't that big, but we're on separate ends of it. There aren't any closets near the bathrooms."

"Then make an excuse to talk to her! Ask her for her... Scrubbing techniques or whatever." she suggested.

"Well, I have been wondering how she gets sticky foods off of plates... I've always had trouble with that. Plus, I'm a little rusty at this whole thing."

"Sure, I guess that works?" she answered unsurely, not quite positive on what he was talking about. "Now get out there!" Just as quickly as she had pulled him in, she shoved him out and went back to organizing her drawers as if nothing had happened.

He awkwardly shuffled back to his spot where he had been mopping. Desperately, he tried to think of what he said. Plate cleaning was nice and all, but it didn't really seem like the type of question that would start a meaningful conversation. Frustrated, he gave himself a deadline. If he didn't think of something before then, he'd ask her out for coffee or something as soon as they were done. Soon, Alec walked up to him.

"Um, what was that about?" he whispered.

"Oh, um, nothing much," Jace replied so very convincingly.

"So you mean to tell me that Isabelle clawed you into her room to chat about her sock drawer?" he asked sarcastically, not convinced despite valiant efforts.

"Yes, I believe that is what I mean to tell you," replied the clean freak of the two brothers in a more calm manner.

"Whatever, tell me when you want to I guess." He walked a way, turning back once to shoot one last questioning look in his direction.

A few hours later, they were done. It was a very messy apartment, but at that point the six of them had managed to make it sparkle, a pretty impressive feat. Unfortunately, a certain Lightwood brother hadn't decided to talk to a certain friend of Isabelle's yet. There had been a few acknowledging head shakes here and there, but nothing more. Time was winding down, people were gathering their stuff to leave, and he was scraping the bottom of the barrel of his mind to think of something. Anything. But as Clary put on her jacket, said her goodbyes, and made her way to the door, he still hadn't decided on anything. Desperate, he blurted something out.

"Wait!" he yelled, a little bit louder than what his preschool teacher called an inside voice. Surprisedly, she turned her head. "I was wondering if you wanted to-" Sadly, that was the second or third sentence he wasn't allowed to finish that day. A buzzing ran throughout the room. Clary took out her phone and looked at the caller idea. Her face went notice paler.

"Um, sorry, I have to take this. It's my boyfriend."