The next morning, Clary sat on the living room couch, doodling hand and eye concepts. They were meant to be generalized–practice for any humanoid she decided to draw–but she kept picturing molten gold with hazel flecks, kept thinking of long and calloused fingers that could probably have played in a symphony in another life. When she tried to shut that away, she thought of brilliant angel wings, unfurling themselves to reveal the radiant warrior of heaven who bore them, strong and posed and much too Jace-like. In the end, there he was, alongside doodles of hands and eyes that look much too like his. His likeness resided in the page as if it belonged there, which was too similar to the actual mannerisms of Jace, if you asked Clary.

She huffed, prepared to call-off the concept art for the day, when she suddenly jumped at a voice in her ear.

"Whatchya drawing?" It purred.

She hastily shut the sketchpad, but she could tell by the smug look of Jace's face that he had already seen it. She tried to think of the best way to play it off.

"Just practicing some concept art," she said nonchalantly, turning on the couch to face him. He was leaning over the back, his face pressed close enough so that Clary could feel his breath when he spoke.

"Concept art about insanely attractive men?" he prompted with a sly grin, leaning further towards her. She noted that he was in a much better mood than he had been the night before. It seemed that she hadn't hurt his pride too much.

She studied his face, absentmindedly noticing that his hair had gotten longer since she had met him. As he shifted his weight, some of the golden strands fell into his face, casting shadows that darkened his gaze. As Clary observed this, she also paused to wonder when she had begun to notice these things about Jace.

"No," she whispered, almost short of breath as she continued to study him. He was looking at her in gentle amusement. Yet, there was a stark affection to the gaze that made Clary want to avert her eyes. It looks like her words last night hadn't affected him too much at all.

"It's concept art for when I have to draw egomaniacs," She said as she stood up, making her way towards the kitchen, wanting to escape the thoughts of last night and the feelings she didn't want to question or confront. Jace wandered into the kitchen after her, mumbling a half-hearted response to her comment.

"Anyway," Jace said, positioning himself against the counter, "As you know, it's Saturday."

Clary casually picked up her coffee mug, using it to hide her face as she recomposed herself. Something about that close proximity left her face feeling hot and her head whirling with questions. She also had a fair guess about where Jace was heading and scrambled for a way to stall.

"Interesting," she said, after recomposing herself, "And yesterday was Friday. I think we're onto something here!"

Jace ignored her quip. "So, as you know, I have the whole day off."

"Whoa," Clary mumbled, trying not to look at him as she turned around to find something to do. She decided to add sugar to her coffee, "It's almost like it's the weekend or something."

"Clary, please," he said. Clary frowned at the tone in his voice. She spared a glance at him and realized that he actually looked… kind of nervous.

"Okay," she said with a curious look, turning back around to face him, "Go on."

"Well, I was thinking that since we have the whole day together, I could take you on a date. A proper one."

"Jace-"

"Wait. You don't have to pretend to be anything you're not, okay? Not my girlfriend, not my fiance, just… Clary. And I'll just be Jace. No pretenses, no lies, just two people trying to decide if they have something that could work," he looked at her shyly. Clary was almost surprised at the vulnerability he was showing her, "C'mon, what do you say?"

Clary thought about it, still not convinced. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what was holding her back. There was no denying that she was attracted to him. The thumping in her chest was a testament to that. But...

Jace seemed to sense her hesitation and sighed, taking a small step closer while trying to catch her eye. Clary could tell he was trying not to push boundaries–at the moment–and she appreciated that. "What if I promise you the best night of your life? I'm talking exploring the city, great food, romance, the whole spiel," his eyes, his damned beautiful eyes that looked like melted honey, where begging her, seducing Clary with the idea that they would belong to her for a whole night.

"C'mon," he whispered, "The best night of your life. 100% guaranteed or your money back. Who could resist that?"

"No one," Clary admitted defeatedly. Jace gave her a gleaming smile.

"You ready?" Jace called. Clary emerged from his bedroom, wearing the same simple white dress that Isabelle had bought for her–the same one she wore to the banquet.

As his gaze fell upon her, she instantly felt insecure. The dress fell to her knees, showing off more legs that Jace was used to seeing on her. She glanced down at herself, wondering if he had wanted her to wear a different dress than one that he's already seen before. Truthfully, she didn't own many. The ones that she had brought from Florida were summer dresses, certainly not meant for a date night.

However, any fear that he would be displeased with her appearance vanished as she glanced back up. His gaze hadn't been on her legs after all. Her heart thumped as she met his gaze levelly, trying not to take notice of how openly adoring his expression was.

"You look beautiful," he said earnestly, closing the distance between them. "Aren't you going to be cold, though?"

Clary smiled and pointed at her legs, "Skin-colored tights," she said, "And I'll bring a scarf, coat, and hat."

Jace grinned and poked her small waist, "But are you sure that's going to be enough? You're small and lean, you don't have any natural insulation."

Clary rolled her eyes, but noted that Jace grabbed an extra jacket as they made their way towards the door.

"Wait! One more thing!" Jace called, gently grabbing at Clary's arm to get her to stop walking. She turned to face him curiously. He slid his hand down to hers, gently grasping at her fingers.

"Jace–" she cut herself off as he pulled his hand away and produced a ring, the fake engagement ring he gave her the night of the party. He met her gaze and offered a sheepish smile as he tucked the ring into his coat pocket.

"No pretenses, I promised."

And with that, the two walked out into the bustling afternoon of New York City. Jace reached at Clary's hand, for real this time, and after some consideration she allowed him to grasp it. So I don't get lost in the crowd, she said to herself, trying not to focus on the warmth the connection offered her. She felt that warmth spread through her body and settle comfortably in her chest.

"Where are we off to first?" she asked as he lead her with purpose through the crowd of people.

He glanced over his shoulder and offered her a grin, "it's a surprise," he said.

A few minutes later, Jace suddenly beelined into a coffee shop. Clary observed it curiously. It didn't seem out of the ordinary to her. At her inquisitive look, Jace grinned.

"I've learned that Clary function's best after coffee. If I want this date to be successful, this has to be our first stop."

When they got to the cash register, Clary was impressed that Jace knew what to order for her. Although, 'black' isn't exactly a hard order to remember. He chose a good roast, though, and that's what matters. When the barista set their drinks on the 'pick-up' end, Clary playfully picked up both drinks, causing Jace to raise his brows at her.

"I want to see what kind of coffee you ordered. I may or may not judge you," she grinned at him as she brought his coffee to her lips, keeping eye contact with him as she tasted… peppermint?

She laughed out loud, "You're a seasonal coffee drinker! I am judging you so hard right now!"

Jace feigned insult, "What's wrong with drinking seasonal flavors?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," she giggled, eyes glistening with humor, "If you're a basic white girl."

"Oh, you'll regret those words, shortcake!" He playfully snatched his coffee away from her, mumbling about basic white girls under his breath.

"Will I?" she breathed, clearly never going to let this go.

"I was going to take you somewhere whimsical… but that's it, you've pushed me too far. You've given me no choice. Now I'm going to have to take you to…" he paused, trying to think of somewhere threatening, "Uh, a rubber duck store. Yep, that's it. You've ruined it for everyone. What was going to be a nice date is now a day spent at the rubber duck store. I hope your happy."

Clary grinned at him, fully aware that if either of them would be upset about going to a duck store, it would not be herself. "Oh, I'm elated," she said, "Let's go!"

Jace paled, "Oh second thought, maybe I'll forgive you for the white girl comment. After all, we are on a date so I should, um, try to be patient and courteous."

"That's what I thought," Clary said with a triumphant grin. Jace rolled his eyes, letting her win this round, before he led her out of the café, knowing that she would be significantly more pleasant with a coffee in hand.

When they finally reached their true destination, the look on Clary's face told Jace that he had chosen just right. She was grinning ear to ear, like a little kid on Christmas.

"You took me to an art museum?" she asked, almost vibrating with excitement.

Jace chuckled, pleased that she approved of the first activity of the day–well, besides coffee. "That I did. And I chose it knowing it would relinquish all your attention to the art. It's a very noble sacrifice, if you ask me. And I'm not even going to pout or point it out."

Clary snorted, eagerly making her way up the stairs, "You give enough attention to yourself as it is. I doubt that you need mine, too."

He hurried after her. It was very rare when Jace was the one who had to try to keep up with Clary.

"I didn't know your legs could move this fast!" he teased.

"I guess I could have been a track star if someone promised me art at the end of the race," She mused.

"What wasted potential," Jace agreed. "But, you know, it's not too late. We could probably start training you today, you'd be an Olympian in no time."

Clary made a face at the prospect, making Jace laugh as he paid for the tickets and grabbed an exhibit map, which Clary quickly squandered from him, the little thief. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her. It would be a very bad date if they both ended up in jail because of art theft.

As soon as they were through the entrance gates, Jace knew that he had lost Clary. She retreated into her mind, miles and miles away from where he was, as she gazed lovingly at the art pieces and mumbled things to herself. Jace didn't mind so much, he liked watching her get lost in the art. She looked adorable. Eventually, however, Jace felt strange just staring at her. He knew he had to integrate himself into the situation somehow but he also didn't want to interrupt Clary, she looked so in her element and he knew nothing about art.

"Is that your girlfriend?" a voice asked in his ear.

Jace jumped a little and turned to see a girl with blue hair at his elbow.

"Uh, yes," he answered, bewildered by the girl's sudden appearance.

"Let me guess, first date?" she asked.

Jace frowned, "Um…I guess so."

The girl laughed at the uncertain answer, "If you're wondering how to stop third wheeling with the art, just ask her about it. There's nothing artists love more," she threw him a wink and walked away.

Jace stared after her, slightly bewildered. His eyes slowly dragged back to Clary, who had been oblivious to the whole thing. Okay… he thought I guess it wouldn't hurt to try…

He quietly walked over to her, to which she remained oblivious, and gently touched her elbow to get her attention. She almost jumped, but relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Hey," he breathed with a grin. He glanced at the painting she had been staring at and decided to go for the sheepish route. "So, uh, I admittedly don't know very much about this stuff… at all. So, could you, uh, tell me about it?"

Clary looked bemused. "What do you want to know?"

"The things you like about it," he said, "What you think it means. I don't know, anything. Everything."

She gazed at him, eyes narrowed, and Jace could tell that she was trying to gauge if he was serious or not. She pursed her lips in thought and then nodded her head, seeming to make a decision. So she delved back into her world, thousands of miles away, but this time she took Jace with. She talked about space and perspective, textures and colors and lines, scale and proportion–art jargon that Jace tried very hard to make sense of because it was very clear that Clary found it fascinating. When he asked her follow up questions, her eyes lit in delight as she babbled an explanation. Towards the end of their walk through the museum, she began to encourage him to offer his own interpretations of what he was seeing. More times than not, this resulted in Clary laughing.

"The artist was not trying to tell the story of a ravenous block of cheese," she insisted as they walked out of the museum about two hours later.

"Ah, but he's not here to say it isn't so! In fact, he's dead. So perhaps if everyone had interpreted his painting the correct way, they could have saved him from the block of cheese that inevitably took his life."

Clary shook her head at him, but there was still laughter in her eyes. He reached his hand out to her and she took it, this time without any hesitation. Progress, he thought.

"Where to next, monsieur?"

"It's a secret, madame. But perhaps we need another coffee stop?"

Clary grinned, "Well, how could a girl say no to coffee?"

"Noted," Jace said, sequestering her towards the nearest coffee shop, which was less than a minute away. The perks of New York, always a place to get coffee close by.

The next place was quite a ways from the coffee shop. Jace could see that Clary was surprised to get into a cab. He smothered a grin as she shot him a questioning gaze; he could tell that her curiosity was driving her crazy. She bit her lip while fiddling with the sleeve of her coffee cup and Jace's satisfaction suddenly turned to longing. Now she was the one driving him crazy and she wasn't even doing it on purpose.

"Stop staring at me," she said.

Jace blinked and struggled to compose himself. He could feel his heart thumping, could feel his pulse in his throat as he swallowed thickly. "Do you want a hint?" He offered, displaying his best attempt at his confident grin.

Clary pursed her lips, as if she didn't trust that Jace would respond helpfully. He watched in amusement as she fought against her pride and her nagging curiosity. Eventually she gave in and silently nodded, blushing at Jace's grin. He couldn't help it. This woman, who was a fully fledged adult, was just so painfully adorable.

"Well, first we're going to go to a park," at her surprised look, he added, "That's your hint. And then, we're going to dinner."

She poked her tongue out, "Those are lame hints!" she complained.

Jace raised his eyebrow. She looked like a little kid, pouting and sticking her tongue out. "It's better than nothing, which is what you previously had."

This didn't improve her mood at all. She stubbornly crossed her arms and, with an exaggerated humph, fixed her gaze out the window, away from Jace. He chuckled.

When the car stopped, Clary's eyes widened.

"Central Park?" she asked.

Jace opened the door for her, "The one and only."

"We could have walked here," she said, watching Jace slide money to the driver before he sped away.

"Well, it wouldn't be much of a first date if I completely exhausted you before the night was over," Jace reasoned, and Clary rolled her eyes.

"I think I could have managed," she said lightly as he steered her towards the southern end.

"But, I figured that, because our next activity was going to be so exerting, you needed a chance to rest your legs," he beamed at her and, before the ice rink was in sight, he could tell that Clary had already guessed it.

"Jace…" she frowned, stopping in her tracks, "Ice skating? I don't know how."

"That's precisely why I'm here," he responded graciously, offering her a smile as he gently put his arm on her back and continued to guide her toward the rink. "I'll teach you. It's the perfect romantic opportunity."

Clary snorted in disbelief, "What is, watching me fall on my butt?"

Jace tried to hide his amusement at the image. He did his best to keep up the courteous manner, "But you will fall gracefully, and I will help you up like the gentleman I am. And I'll only make one or two hilarious comments about it."

Clary shoved at his shoulder and Jace laughed, "Okay, for real Clary. I won't let you fall, okay? I'll catch you," he winked at her, "Unless you want to fall for me, of course."

She narrowed her eyes at him and stalked past, though he could sense that she wasn't as infuriated by his comments as she was letting on. He trailed her, gazing at her affectionately, as she walked up to the rental booth. There was a small line, and he used the opportunity to grab her attention once more. He tapped her elbow gently.

She turned on him, her face a scowl. But he saw the twinkle in her bright green eyes. He smiled, "Thanks for doing this Clary," he said, sincerely. Her hard gaze faltered. She had been expecting another snide comment, and he felt a little triumphant that he could catch her off guard. "I know it's not exactly something you want to do," he continued, "But I planned this night for optimum romance, and I have studied all the great Rom-Coms profusely," she cracked a grin and his heart fluttered, "and all of them told me I needed an ice-skating montage."

"You're probably right," she said, her voice lighter, "This will be fun, even if I do have to fall on my butt a couple several times."

"My dear lady," Jace held his hand over his heart, the other in the air. "I solemnly swear that I will not let you fall on your butt. The only falling that will occur is-"

"Jace," she cut him off, "I swear to god if you say I'm going to fall in love with you-"

Her angry words faded as he gazed at her with open affection, not bothering to hide it. Her eyes were wide as he took a small step closer to her. "Actually," he breathed, his voice soft, but also a little sad. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, meeting her wide, dazed green emeralds, "It will be quite the opposite, I'm sure."

She was stunned into silence as he went next in line and ordered two pairs of rental skates. She looked surprised when he knew her size, to which he offered her a sly grin. He had checked her size earlier that day for the specific gesture. Then, he swept her over to a bench a little ways from the frozen lake, where he motioned for her to sit down. Perhaps still stunned, she did so without complaint.

He got to his knee in front of her, taking one of her feet into his hands and unlacing her boots. "The movies also said that I had to romantically undress you. I suppose this will do," she laughed, probably having expected him to say something about Cinderella.

Then, he gently slid on the ice skate. He gasped, evoking a startled look from Clary. He glanced up to meet her eyes, his own dazzling, "Perfect fit."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Jace took one of her hands and, holding Clary's gaze, gently kissed the back of her hand. He wondered if she was as breathless as he was. "If you would have me, I would try to make you feel like a princess. I really would."

Clary swallowed thickly, "What kind of princess is constantly mocked?" she said, trying to keep her voice light. The unevenness that he detected made his heart swell with hope and pride.

"A princess who has a prince that says things in good jest," he finished lacing her boots then sat beside her, putting his own on. When he was finished, he sent her a radiant smile and, sensing her uneasiness, held out his hand, "You ready?"

"I don't think I can walk in these," she admitted, "Especially though snow."

Jace laughed, "Take my hand, Clary. You can trust me."

So she did. She took his hand, and he deftly led them both to the frozen lake. It was filled with people, and he wondered if Clary would take comfort in seeing that she was not the only person learning today. Given her horrified look as she approached the ice, he didn't think so.

"It's okay," he whispered in her ear, and he felt her shiver, "Just trust me. Hold onto me."

Then, slowly, he led her onto the ice. She wobbled, but he had his hands on her arms, steadying her.

She let out a harsh laugh, "You're skating backwards and I can't even stand up on my own."

Jace frowned at the tone of her voice. "Hey, this is supposed to be fun," he reminded her softly, "If you really feel out of your comfort zone, then–"

Clary took a deep breath and shook her head, "No," she said, leaning more into him. He hid a smile. He should have known that Clary wouldn't back down from a challenge. She was stubborn like that. Stubborn and brave.

"Okay," he said, sensing that she had found her balance, he let go of her arms. He watched as her eyes widened in panic as the support vanished, followed by her realization that she had been supporting herself. He slid gracefully to her side and took her hand, demonstrating the way she should move her feet. He caught her as she almost fell, offering her a timid smile, "Look at all the progress you've already made," he said supportingly.

She stood herself back up and let in a deep breath. Then, to his surprise, he watched her… let go. He hadn't realized that she had been holding so much tension in her body, but the difference was visibly noticeable. Her shoulders weren't as tense or drawn, her hands no longer fisted, her jaw no longer tight. He grinned at her and she grinned back.

"There we go," he said breathlessly, taking her hand and gently gliding alongside her. She was still wobbly, but she was getting the hang of it.

Within an hour, she looked like… well, like it at least wasn't her first time ice skating. He could tell that she felt more comfortable, and that encouraged him to be slightly more daring. He skated backwards, holding both of her hands in his, and gently guided her in curving motions. It was no longer about skating so much as the moment with Clary, holding her hand. She'd opened herself to talking again, and they were currently in a full on conversation about an experience Jace had at the very same lake.

"And the duck just started attacking me!" he cried in mortification. Clary giggled and he feigned hurt. "Don't laugh at my suffering! It was a very serious and traumatic–"

He cut off as Clary's eyes widened, "Jace!" She screeched.

Jace skidded to a halt, just in time to stop himself from toppling both he and Clary over a small child. Clary, however, wasn't as prepared to stop so suddenly, and she hurled into Jace with the momentum of a small freight train. Luckily, the child was already safely out of the way as she and Jace toppled onto the ice.

He laughed, "For such a small person, you really pack a punch," he muttered, gazing up at her. Her eyes were wide, her hair wild. He enjoyed the sight. Her cheeks and nose were tinted red from the cold, almost the same color as her hair. Even her eyes were bright. Clary only dealt in vivid colors, it seemed, but he didn't mind. She added a little color to his monochrome life, literally and figuratively. Now his apartment was filled with colorful rugs and paintings and decorations. Before it had been black and white. His favorite color used to be a cool brown, the color of mahogany. Now… it was green and red. Not Christmas colors, Clary colors.

"Did you, uh, hit your head? You've been staring at me and not saying anything."

Jace laughed, "And you thought you'd be the one falling on your butt," he mumbled, sitting up and causing Clary to roll off of him slightly. At her sheepish gaze he flashed her a smug grin, "let me guess, you can't get up on your own?"

She gave him a helpless nod and, with a gallant gesture, he pulled the both of them to their feet. "Anything for you, my princess."

"Queen," she corrected, causing him to raise his eyebrows. She grinned, "Cinderella becomes queen after the prince puts the slipper on her. If we're following the timeline, that's where we're at."

"If we're following the timeline, we're also married," he pointed out. She blushed, but otherwise didn't respond.

The setting sun caught his attention. He sighed. Although it was relatively safe, he had his qualms about being in Central Park at night. They weren't far from any main paths, and there were still plenty of people around, so he knew they'd be fine. But, they did also have a reservation to catch.

"We should probably get going," he said. To his surprise, Clary seemed reluctant. She grabbed his hand, also to his surprise, and tried to drag him back to the middle of the rink.

He grinned, finding her actions encouraging. He let himself venture nearer to her, their bodies nearly touching, "We can go get food," he murmured into her ear, feeling her lean into him, "I know you must be starving."

Clary pursed her lips, "10 more minutes?" she pleaded. He couldn't say no to her.

Jace and Clary walked out of Takis, laughing.

"That," she said, "Was one of the strangest restaurants I have ever been to."

He grinned, "Was it the hairy gentleman across from us who basically asked for his meat raw? Or the group of teenagers whose hair could assemble a complete rainbow?"

She laughed, "Or that our waiter was wearing fake fangs and colored contacts?"

He smiled. "But the food was good, you can't deny that. The ambiance is a little… strange. But that's a large part of why I like it."

"Where else could I find a menu with an entire section labelled as 'faerie food'?" She grinned.

"Hey," he said defensively, "You can't deny that their sugar plum salad was to die for."

"I liked it," Clary stared at him for a second and flushed.. He beamed at her, pleased that she had. "It was like something out of a novel–faeries and vampires and magic…" she smiled to herself, "Those have always been my favorite kind of stories. So thanks for making me feel like I was in one."

Jace gave her a dazzling smile, his arm sliding around her hip. "Today, I made Clary Fray feel as if she were in a fairytale. I don't think I have ever received that compliment about a date."

Clary rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. And she wasn't pulling away from his touch. If anything, she was leaning closer.

"If this were a fairytale," Jace said, stopping suddenly. Clary peeked up at him and the tenderness of his gaze unnerved her. He fingers caught a couple wisps of her hair, tucking them behind her ear. His hand stayed once they were in place, gliding across her cheek. "Would it be a love story?"

Jace noticed her swallowed thickly. He vacantly wondered if he had the same effect on her as she did on him, if she could feel her heart pounding in her throat the way he could. If she felt equally burned from the crackling warmth where he touched her cheek. Her big, green eyes bored into his. She really did look like something out of a fairytale, with her pretty sparkling eyes, her bright colored hair, her flowing dress.

The distant sound of music roused his attention away from her, just for a moment. He smiled at her curious look as he broke the intensity of the moment to drag her in the direction it came from. Just as he thought, they came across street performers. They were decent, and they had worked together a handsome crowd. Clary and Jace stood to the outside of it, away from the commotion, where the music still drifted just as beautifully.

He watched as a silver haired boy got lost in the music of his violin, alongside a dark haired boy with bright blue eyes who had a fiddle in his hand, and a pretty brunette who held a flute. It was clear that the other two were letting the silver haired boy steal the show, which he was proving to be perfectly capable of.

"Jace?" Clary pulled his attention away from the musicians, clearly wondering why he had taken her here.

"I love this song," he said simply. He held out his hand, "Care to dance?"

She looked surprised and shook her head, "I don't know how, Jace."

He frowned, taking her hand anyway. "Nonsense, it's easy," he pulled her close, "Just let me guide you."

They began to sway to the music. Jace held her gaze as he moved their bodies, twirling her under the illumination of headlights and street signs. He got lost in the music, lost in her. It didn't matter that they were on a New York sidewalk, that they were near a crowd gathered around the talented musicians. It didn't matter that she was Clary and he was Jace, or that they were anything other than that moment. It was only them. Only this. Only her. Only now.

He dipped her as the song ended, both of them breathing heavily. The crowd began to clap and cheer and he slowly righted her to her feet. Their eyes were both wide, both registering what had happened. It was the first time they had both become lost, had both completely let go, together. For just that moment, there had been absolutely nothing but the two of them and the music. A blur of red and gold.

He smiled sheepishly at her, grabbing her hand. He threw a few dollars into the open violin case, receiving a suggestive wink from the dark haired fellow, before he started to whisk Clary away, back towards their apartment.

At some point, Clary pulled them both to a stop.

"Look!" she said, pointing into a shop window. He gazed inside curiously. It was a junk shop, filled mostly with seasonal decorations like dancing santas and nativity scenes. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was thinking of buying decorations for next year. Then he saw what she was pointing at, a scenic painting. "That looks just like one of my moms…" she said curiously.

"We could–" his suggestion was cut off when the lights in the store were turned down and a worker came by to lock the door and turn the open sign to closed. "We could come back tomorrow."

Clary stood, still staring at the window. Where the santas and paintings had once been, there was now only their reflection. Jace saw Clary's face, eyes wide and lips parted. She looked stunned, frozen in time.

"Clary?" he asked, turning to gaze at the red head. "Are you okay?"

Clary was frowning when she turned to him. "I look a mess."

He laughed. He had been worried that seeing the painting at the shop had upset her in some way.

"No, really," she said, still gazing at her reflection. Her hands flew to her hair, in attempt to smooth it down. "How did it get so tangled," she glared at in in the reflection. Then, her hands came to her flushed cheeks, scowling at the color. "And I look like a tomato–"

"Clary," Jace said, arms turning her away from her reflection so that they stood face to face. "Darling." He put his hand on her cheek, regarding the color he found there with a warm smile. He took her in. Wild hair, flushed cheeks, he could see where she was coming from. But to him, well… she just looked full of life. Vibrant. She looked like Clary. "You look perfect."

Clary gazed at him curiously, trying to gauge his sincerity. He stared into her eyes and tried to tell her everything, tried to show her that he meant it. She must have seen something, because the next second, they were kissing.

They were kissing, and it was nothing like the kiss they had shared before. It wasn't about taking the other off guard. It had a different energy, less about tricks and jokes and more about… love. Jace felt it spread a warmth through his body, as if the kiss had somehow entered his bloodstream and he was suddenly living and breathing Clary. He felt her fingers curled at the nape of his neck, tugging gently at his hair. His hands were around her waist, encircling her, trying to tether them together, trying to make sure he wouldn't float away. He kissed her slowly, trying to savor the moment. He wanted her to believe that this was real, that they could be together. He kissed her until he was dizzy. He pulled away, breathing heavy and eyes hazed, and tried to gauge her reaction.

Her face was more flushed than it had been before. He offered her a tender smile and his heart swelled when she returned it. She took his hand.

"Well," he cleared his throat when his voice came out shaky, "I suppose we should head back, then."

Clary nodded. When they were outside his apartment complex, he hesitated. He thought about the ring that was in his coat pocket, and about his boss who was undoubtedly inside, who was bound to notice such a little thing. But then he glanced at Clary. She was still smiling, still holding his hand. She offered him a curious gaze and he squeezed her hand.

"So, what did you think? Best night of your life?"

She laughed, pulling him inside. He could tell she was getting a little cold, so he let her lead the way.

"I'd give it four and a half stars on tripadvisor," she told him. Jace feigned outrage.

"Only four and a half!?" he gasped, "Where did I lose the other half?"

Clary turned to face him outside of his door. He stopped at the sudden motion. "Well," she said, stepping closer to him. He stiffened as she reached her hand into his pocket, "You did let me fall on my butt even after promising I wouldn't," she produced his house key and grinned wickedly, opening the door for them.

Jace pretended that hadn't flustered him. "In all fairness, I was technically the one who fell on my butt."

She laughed. "Fine, you can have 4.8 stars."

He frowned. "That's still not a perfect score."

"Well," she said, "If I gave you a perfect score, then you wouldn't ever be able to top it."

He grinned at her. She grinned back.

"So, are we going to sleep together, now?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. Clary rolled her eyes.

"Not on the first date, Jace," she said.

But she left his bedroom door open. And when he came out of his bathroom, having showered and changed, she had left his side of the bed open as well. He slid into his side, curiously glancing at her. She appeared to be sleeping. As he stared at her chest evenly rising and falling, he absently wondered what this meant for their relationship. He had never been so uncertain around a girl before, so desperate for things to go perfectly.

He shifted to properly lie down, ready to go to bed, when Clary shifted, too, so that she snuggled into his side. This usually happened during the night. It was normal for them to wake up tangled in each other. He'd always assumed that he initiated it, but as he stared in surprise at the sleeping redhead, he realized that he had been wrongfully blamed this whole time. He thought he would feel smug, but he mostly just felt warm affection. As he situated himself around her, he found that sleep embraced him readily, peaceably.