Chapter 7
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Heat was a foreign concept to Clary. She was always cold. The fire had taken away all the heat in her life. Now she coasted by with leggings and hoodies. It sufficed. She didn't complain. There were times when she never had even that. Times when a foster parents would slap her, burning her cheek, but it burned cold. Times when the heat was shut off in a house, and she'd shiver through the night with her brother, holding out for sunlight that would offer livable, movable coldness.
When she woke up immersed in heat that morning, her mind immediately went to the night when there was nothing but heat. Her body had burned from the inside out. Fire swam into her eyes and never left. Since then, since that night, flames were all she saw. In her nightmares, when she closed her eyes, even when she was awake. It haunted her, watching her home burn, watching her parents burn. The red never left her eyes. Everything she saw, she saw with a tinge of red, a tinge of boiling guilt. That night she knew heat, and nothing could ever compare. It had numbed her senses of heat forever.
Fear captivated her tongue. She couldn't make a sound. She couldn't move. Her mind was back in that night, that night of red. But then she was shaking, being jolted from the memory. "Clary." That voice was familiar. Her body stopped fighting. "Clary, wake up." Gaining control again, she opened her eyes. Everything was quiet except the boy hovering behind her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and opened them again. "Are you okay?"
She jerked her head in a nod. Slowly, she maneuvered her body to turn and face him.
Jace. He brought a wave of calm over her. "I'm not used to sleeping with anyone." Jace raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Well, not actually sleeping, anyhow."
His hand and hers were wound together. "Neither am I."
Clary burst out into laughter. The idea of their conversation made her laugh. Jace smiled, too, a genuine smile. Even in the darkness of her room, Clary reveled in the smile. His eyes were still mystic, though if it was from sleep or his past she could not be sure. But that smile? It warmed soul, lighting it with the sunlight of the morning.
"How many girls have you been with?" Clary asked, wiggling her brows suggestively. "Ten? Twenty?"
Jace snorted. He propped himself up on one arm. Clary batted her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"I would," she agreed, smiling. "I myself have been with five."
Jace smirked deviously. "Five girls? Can I watch the next time?"
Clary giggled profusely, shoving his chest. "Dickhead." His leer made Clary want to both never look away and look anywhere but his flirty eyes.
"You lose count around the number fifteen." Jace shrugged. Clary's face must have been a sight to see. His hand rested on her shoulder. She didn't let him know how good that felt. "Are you jealous?"
Clary sneered, "Not at all. If it took you that long to perfect your game, I pity you." Jace chuckled. His hand lessened until it was just his fingers. They coasted down from her shoulder on the side of her body. When they reached her shorts, they stilled. He moved his hand to her milky white thighs, moving them up and down in an intoxicating rhythm.
"You couldn't keep up, baby, or I'd give you a taste," he whispered deliberately. Clary's eyes flickered shut. His hand clamped down on her thigh, high, almost reaching the bottom of her shorts. She gasped and arched her back, threating to rise up and pounce.
Clary's shuddering breath came out visibly. Jace snickered and pulled his hand away, slowly, still teasing. She fell back on the bed, more than a little breathless. Jace leaned above her, taking in the tiny girl sensing so much in one touch below him. Then, he walked out the door.
Clary let out a frustrated groan and threw her pillow at the door. He didn't come back.
. . .
"You're friends are so gorgeous!" Celine clapped with delight. Clary smiled weakly at her. Isabelle and Alec decided to come over to see Max. Simon had to practice with his band, but he had promised to come later despite repeatedly telling him that he wasn't needed. Before Clary could escape back into the sanity of her friends, Celine tugged on her shirtsleeve like a child. "Can I ask you something, Clary?"
"Yes."
"Does Jace hate me?" she wrung her hands squeamishly. Her eyes darted to the kids playing in the living room and back. "It's just…he's so quiet near me."
Clary shrugged. "He's very tired. Max keeps him up a lot."
Celine's eyes grew wide. "Oh no!" she worried. "Poor Jace. I want him – I want both of you to feel like this is your home. It is your home. Any time. No matter what. What…what can I do?"
Clary grabbed an apple out of the fridge. As she chewed, she thought on her words. Celine was so kind-hearted. If only Stephen had a little of her softness and her a little of his hardness, they'd be wonderful, tolerable people. As much as her words tempted Clary, she knew they would never be true. They were their foster kids, not adopted kids. This would never be her home. But she could pretend, like always, to make Celine happy.
Then an idea popped into her head. She smiled and pointed with her apple at Celine, casually. "There's plenty of space in my room. And an extra bed. I know it's 'against the rules,' but come on. Jace only talks to me to tease me about my red hair. I could never even think – ew," she lied fluently. She definitely could and did think about Jace that way.
Celine's face shifted from distraught to excited. She jumped and clapped her hands. "Oh, Clary, that's perfect!" Celine squealed.
Clary smiled softly. "Tell Stephen it was your idea."
Isabelle had Max beside her, but he focus was on her phone. "Hey, foster people, why does everyone complain about social workers? And why do they give them shitty nicknames?"
Clary snorted. She remembered the last time she saw her own social worker. Big Bev was a name of permanent memory. Her lack of personality created one of its own. Clary would never admit this out loud, but when she turned eighteen in two years, it'd be a pleasantly sad goodbye to that lady. She really did do her best. But that wasn't her first social worker. Her first one got put in jail for, you guessed it, hiding abuse due to bribes.
"They're uneducated lazy asses who don't give a shit how their assigned child is actually doing so long as they are alive," Jace kicked his legs up on the table. Alec was on Max's other side, and Jace was in the chair. It left Clary no room to sit. He glanced at her and silently patted his lap. Clary flipped him off.
"Only the shitty ones are," Clary said. "My social worker now is great and has a degree. She hardly says anything, but she always listened. I gave her a nickname only out of respect. Why do you ask?"
Isabelle glanced up. She put her phone away. "My boyfriend keeps complaining about his social worker. I don't get it. Max's social worker is awesome."
Alec rolled his eyes. "She only likes him because he's handsome." Max snickered and poked Isabelle in the side. It wasn't his smartest move, but she jabbed him back light enough to not leave a bruise.
"He was handsome, sure, but I don't like my men nice and clean like him. Am I right, Clary?" Isabelle wiggled her eyebrows. Jace leaned forward in his seat. Clary stumbled back a step, blushing. His eyes started a fire in her stomach. His mind was reaching out to her with a handful of suggestively dirty comments.
"You're a damn slutty lunatic, Iz," she sneered. The doorbell rang behind her, and it made Clary jump. She turned around, thankful for the opportunity to slip away without having to face Jace. She could already feel his hot gaze on her body, ideas flying through his mind. Simon was at the door, brushing down his hair nervously. She opened it and gave him a hug. "I'm glad you came. No Maia or Jordan?"
Jordan was in their band, apparently. He didn't seem too enthusiastic about it. When Jace and she had been locked in a closet together, the rest of them continued on with their party for a few hours. Clary had fallen asleep, but she assumed they eventually let them out, surprised not to have found them naked. Clary had a theory that Simon put enough alcohol in Jordan's system that when he played a demo, it sounded somewhat audible, and Jordan agreed and never backed out.
"Nope. Maia wanted a new video game, so she picked up an extra shift. Jordan went to pick her up or some lovey dove shit like that," Simon snorted. "Why are they so over the top?"
Clary shrugged. She never minded much, especially compared to what she had witnessed in that bedroom shared with both of them, though it was technically only shared with Maia. "Because now they can be. Why not?" It was inspiring that they had made it through the system, alive and whole. Well, more or less. Nobody knew how messed up Maia and Jordan both were in the head more than Clary. They had some weird fantasies and some fucked up late night thoughts.
Simon grumbled, "My food can think of a few reasons why." Clary and Simon sat below the couch while Max fell between them. He rattled on and on about his newest comic book. Clary assumed nobody spoke geek to him on a regular basis. Simon was the king at it, clearly. She did fine herself, but Simon genuinely enjoyed this conversation compared to some.
Clary thought they were having a good time. Even Jace hadn't retreated back out the window to wherever Wayland Land was yet. Isabelle was telling stories of times she'd been drunk and made out with random strangers. Clary was quite interested. Alec looked disgusted, as did Jace. Then, Stephen came home.
"What the hell is this?" He trudged through he door with his mighty briefcase. A firm scowl was on his face, like he'd just walked through pouring rain. "Celine!"
Celine came running from the kitchen where she was doing dishes. "Honey?"
He pointed into the living room. "Why are Clary's friends here? They should be doing homework."
Celine wrung her hands again. Her wide eyes jerked between the living room and Stephen's icy gaze. "Their homework is done, Stephen. I have dinner ready for you."
He grumbled something under his breath, setting his coat and briefcase down. "You three can leave. Clary, a word."
Isabelle's glare was hard to miss. She hugged Max, and then Clary. "I'm so sorry."
Alec hugged Max. Simon was already out the door at this point, scared for his life. Clary's eyes connected with Jace's. She mouthed the words "Save me!" He laughed and reclined on the chair. Max waved and sat back on the couch, reading his comic book. With a sigh, Clary prepared herself for a speech that shouldn't have been.
Stephen was devouring a sandwich. He watched Clary as he ate, forcing her to stand there the entire time. Her patience didn't wane, like he wanted it to. Instead, she picked at her nails. After he downed a soda, he stood. "Clary. This is not a party house. Think about poor Celine. She has to clean this house all by herself. Not only do you not help her like you should, but you add more people and waste to the mess."
Clary clenched her fists. "She said it was fine."
"I did, Stephen, really," Celine piped from behind him. He grumbled a silencing word.
"Get it under control, Clarissa. My house, my rules." Stephen hissed. He rubbed at his chin and glanced in the living room. "It's my understanding that Jace hasn't been getting enough sleep. If it were my way, I'd have you switch with Jace and give him some peace and quiet. However, Celine feels Max should have room to 'grow.' Youll switch Max then. No questions."
Clary nodded. She didn't mind that last part aside from the fact that she never got to use her bathtub. Eh, Max would love the bubble baths. She doubted Celine would miss the chance to give him one every night.
She clamped a hand on Max's shoulder. "Hey, Maxxie, will you be upset if I steal your bed?" She asked, bending down to his level. Jace didn't say anything, just waited patiently to hear her out. Max frowned. He crossed his hands over his chest.
"Why?"
"There's a big bathtub in my room. I thought you might like it." Clary said. She glanced at Jace, who was frowning. "What do you say?"
Max took a step back. He looked between Clary and Jace. There was a glint in his eyes that Clary recognized as intelligence. Simon always had it. Nothing was going past this kid. "Do you have a crush on Jace?" he whispered, but by the chuckles echoing from above her, she knew Jace heard it. Clary scowled.
"No, but I would love to crush Jace," she said. "There's bubbles…"
He gasped, "Deal!" Neither of them had much, and soon clothes and shoes were being thrown across the hall. Clary picked them up and calmly helped Max grab his bag, which still lied unpacked.
"Do Stephen and Celine know about this?" Jace asked, leaning against the door, watching the chaos that was an eight-year-old boy. Clary paused, bent over picking up her mismatched shoes. She smiled.
"They've ordered it."
. . .
Celine, Stephen, and Max went to sleep, as usual, on time. It was always ten for Stephen and Celine. It was supposed to be nine for Max, but Clary had no doubt that he was awake. She almost felt bad for him. Who would he speak to now?
"He's all alone," Clary sighed.
"He's got his books. Trust me, that kid could entertain himself with a string," Jace said. Clary had trouble believing him. In the end, though, she couldn't have done anything. Stephen was the one who did this. Clary fell back on her new bed, eyes closing softly. It was just as cold as the other. "Are you tired?" Jace stood before her in sweats and a form fitting black shirt. Clary's eyes moved up and down his body as she sat up, shaking her head. A small grin slipped onto her lips. Jace smirked, clearly knowing what his outfit did. The effects were obvious. "Let me show you something."
He grabbed her hand. Clary debated only for a second. She swung her legs over the bed. Jace paused at her bare body. "This will be the first and last time I say this, but you may want to put some more clothes on, Red."
The words rolled off his tongue with a fight. Blushing, Clary pulled on sweat pants and changed into the hoodie he'd let her borrow. It was a good idea to simply deem it as her own. There were no intentions in her red head to give it back. Jace stood by the window, watching her move with amusement. She smiled nervously when she pulled the hoodie down. "Where are we going?"
No words were exchanged. He motioned a finger to follow him, and Clary made sure she did. Opening the window, his lithe frame hopped on to the fire escape with ease. Clary did as well, less gracefully, but she didn't even need his offered hand. They climbed up the creaking stairs until her stomach felt uneasy. In truth, the building was only six stories. They went to the top, all the way to the roof. Jace flung his body over the edge and stood like he'd been born with those natural talents. He bent over the side and pulled Clary up, knowing just how tedious her upper body strength was.
Jumping to her feet, Clary began to thank him, but her words escaped her lips once she saw what was before her. Twinkling lights and lanterns were spread among the edges of the roof, illuminating the large patch of ground, or rooftop. The stairs to the inside of the building opened up in a little roof-covered hut. There was enough room for a couch to rest underneath the porch-type of ceiling as well. In front of the couch was a lone guitar. The wood was dark with red lettering creating a word in cursive.
"Took a little time, but I think it's a bit better than the room we share," Jace shrugged. He walked casually to the couch and hopped on it. Clary stumbled a few steps forward. It was only then she noticed the blankets and pillows resting in front of the couch, staring directly up towards the sky. Again, her breath caught. "This is just for tonight."
She couldn't speak, suddenly. All her thoughts and motions circulated Jace and this heaven above all heavens located only three floors above her supposed 'home.' Immediately upon seeing this, she knew nothing could be closer to home than this scene on the rooftop.
"Wh-what's tonight?" Clary stuttered, uneasy being this tongue-tied. It wasn't often this happened.
"Tonight's the night I thank you for saving me from sleep deprivation," Jace slowly pushed to his feet. He walked in front of Clary, eyes leveling, steadying hers. The gold burned bright tonight, brighter than she'd ever seen them shine before. It made no sense, either. They were nearing black as his pupils grew. The golden gaze focused on her face, on her hair, on her lips. She could feel where they put their attention on. That area would burst alight with energy seconds later. "And, tonight's the night I do this."
He didn't say another word. Clary opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then she saw it, the look in his eyes, the one she'd been seeing since they met. She never knew if it had simply been her mind creating something she craved – something she needed. Now she was certain it was real.
His lips were softer than his calloused fingers, which gripped her face in the lightest way they could manage. The roughness of his hands made everything so much more palpable, though. She fell into his caress in the same way her lips fell into his.
He increased the pace, and Clary opened her lips to his. Things exploded. It shifted, and the only thing she could sense was Jace. Her mind wrapped around his, and all restraints were lost.
His tongue slid against her, and she reciprocated. There was a fire igniting between them, between their mouths. Her desires raced ahead of her, and she jumped into his arms. Jace caught the girl swiftly. His hands roamed from her thighs to her ass.
It just reminded Clary of how absolutely cold it was up there in the freezing winter months. "Jace, the blankets," she whispered against his mouth. Though he didn't move immediately, he understood. Their lips broke apart, but their eyes never did. The gold was burning as bright as the sun he so much resembled. As she slid off him, Jace's hands trailed over her sides up to her face. Clary shivered and closed her eyes softly. His hands wound in hers.
"Do you trust me?" Jace asked. Clary had so much hesitation in answering. When was the last time she could say she trusted somebody on the top if a six story building? What happened to that person? Clary knew the answers like a fish in a net knew it'd never get out alive. She didn't care anymore. If she took her last breath, she died trying to live. In this moment, she wanted to live with Jace.
She gave him a steady nod.
Jace moved her from behind, letting her feet hit the ground before them first. Every step, her breath grew shallower. "Step up." Slowly, she raised one foot, then the other. Somehow, she could feel a difference. The air was colder, alerting her to her surrounding. Jace's hands moved to her waist. "Open your eyes."
Clary did. She sucked in a gust of air. Below her was the city, smaller than she'd thought. Cars zoomed by. The streets were small little lines with only two or three people milling about. Taller, grander buildings blocked her view of Manhattan, but this was just as thrilling as she'd imagine being on top of the empire state building would have been. Clary swayed, and Jace's hands steadied her. "Wow," she breathed. Blood pumped through her veins. She was feeling something. She was finally feeling something
Up there, the world was hers. It felt like all her problems and fears flew away with the wind. She could start over, if only she remembered this feeling, right here. With a grin as big as her lips could manage, she grabbed Jace's hands. "My turn," she said and pulled him up to the ledge with her. Jace watched Clary impishly, like one might watch a child taste real food for the first time. Boldly, she took a step into his body. Her fist found his shirt and pulled him down on her.
They kissed hard, fast. It was ravenous. Their energy equaled their adrenaline, and it was pumping right now. Her hands ran down past his defined jaw-line to his chest. He was pure muscle, and his tee wasn't hiding that fact at all. His tongue entered her mouth, and she happily did the same. They fought for dominance. Nobody truly won. Jace's hands were all over her skin, leaving trails of fire that sizzled in the freezing winter air.
His hand lifted her shirt up, just barely, but his fingers grazed her skin. Hot energy coursed through her body, causing her to shiver. Just like that, her foot slipped off the edge. She shrieked and clung to Jace as she began to fall. In seconds, he pulled her back to him and they both fell to the roof.
Nobody said anything. Honking and howling of the wind and cars filled the air with unsure energy. Clary watched Jace as he inspected his arms. When a grin appeared on his lips, she smiled, too. "You're crazy, Fray," Jace cackled. She beamed cheekily at him.
"That was the best moment of my life," she closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath of air, and let it out with a loud moan. Jace moved in front of her, but her eyes remained shut. He grabbed her hands and yanked Clary to her feet. This time, he moved her to the blankets. She giggled. "I never doubted you for a second, Wayland."
He smirked. "Why would you?" She opened her eyes as he pulled her down to the blankets. She eyed them suspiciously.
"I don't know," she shrugged. He pulled a large quilt over top of her and settled in beside her, back pressed against the couch. The ground was cold beneath her still, as was the couch. But heat rolled off Jace's body. She scooted next to him, and when that wasn't good enough, she crawled on top of his lap. "Some would say you intended this for sex."
Jace's eyes crinkled with his true smile. "I absolutely intend to have sex here. With you. But not tonight. Tonight, I want to let you make me feel good, even if it's a lie," he leaned forward and surprised her with a kiss, chaste and sure. Clary blinked back, trying to fight off the daze his kisses left her in.
Winding her fingers into his hair, she smiled warmly, something she knew she never did. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt reason to truthfully smile. When she was with Jonathan, she'd felt safe, but never excited or happy. Jonathan was a reminder of her parents, of how they died, of how he'd comforted her. Jace was nothing of the sorts.
He was her new fire. "Then hold me close," she whispered, and Jace's hands grabbed her hips and connected her body to his. Somehow, he managed to stand up with her legs hooked around his torso. He fell back on the couch, and Clary scooted down to rest her head on his shoulder. The blanket trapped their body heat in, and Clary wished it didn't have an escape.
His heart pounded against her ear. It was a steady, firm rhythm, so sure and strong. One hand rubbed her back underneath her sweatshirt, and the other hand kept a firm grip on her bottom.
Jace wanted her. He wanted to show her a new way of life, a new way of finding joy. He wanted to make her soar. Clary wanted that, too. She wanted to forget the past. She may have been lonely, but she was no longer alone. Jace would be there for her in all the right ways…even if they were legally all the wrong ones.
A/N: Finally! They kiss! They kiss! Was it what you expected? Less? Dime! Tell me! Tell me your thoughts and squeals and anything!
I love you guys so much. Your reviews make my day shine brighter. Seriously. Okay, I need more time to write though, ugh! Can we reach twenty reviews by tomorrow night? If we reach twenty reviews by tomorrow, I'll update in four days again. You're killing me, but I'll do it!
