Hi guys! Thank you for the very lovely reviews! Here's another chapter :)) Enjoy!
Clary woke up to the warm press of Jace's body against hers. This is almost normal, at this point. She thought, but she still felt flushed and tense. Jace's body tensed, suddenly, as well, and he snapped open his eyes. Clary startled. Normally Jace woke up slowly.
He sat up, pulling away from her.
"J-Jace?" she asked.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. He was frowning.
"Did you have a bad dream?" she reached out to touch him, but then thought better about it and let her hands awkwardly fall into her lap, clutching the bed spread.
"You could say something like that." She watched him take a deep breath and release the tension in his body. He fell onto his back beside her, making the bed shake a little.
"Are you alright?" she gazed at him curiously. He was staring at her, now, at an angle that made his golden eyes hooded. The sun was streaming gently through his bedroom window, casting a sepia glow and leaving streaks of sunlight across his chest. Her fingers itched to sketch the scene. She thought of the colored pencils she would use to get his hair the right color.
"I'm fine," he replied plainly. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"
She nodded. Staring at the wrinkles in his fabric, eyeing the small shadows they cast. Jace was all sunshine and shadows. She grinned at how similar it was to his personality.
"Clary," he said, stirring her from her art fantasies, "Are you alright?"
"I want to draw you," she blurted.
Jace grinned, "I thought you already do," he said, which made her flush.
"No, but I mean… I want you to stay like this. I want to draw you. How you are right now. Don't move."
And that's how Clary and Jace spent most of their morning in bed. He didn't seem to mind. He talked and asked questions curiously, like why she was reaching for a certain color. At the end, she was rather pleased with it. She told Jace he could move and he got up, looking a little stiff as he moved his neck from side to side.
"Well?" he asked, reaching his hands out so he could look at it. Clary sheepishly handed it to him, unsure how he would respond to it. His eyes widened as he glanced over it. "You did this with just colored pencil?"
Clary nodded, cringing as he put his fingers to it. Noticing this, he drew them back, and settled for simply eyeing it. "This is amazing Clary. Wow."
He was smiling and she raised her eyebrows at him.
"What is it?"
He was still smiling. "What is what?"
"Why are you smiling like that?"
His smile broadened into a grin that showed off his teeth. She could see his chipped incisor and her heart almost skipped a beat. It was an attribute of his that she always secretly admired.
"Oh nothing," he said, setting the drawing down on the bed between them, "It's just that.. You know, you must have been really admiring that view in order to want to draw it so badly. I mean, to have been staring at it in the first place…"
Clary flushed and whacked him on the shoulder with her sketchbook. He laughed as she scowled. "It was the color of the room and the sun spots and shadows on your shirt. Nothing more."
"But if it was nothing more," he said, grabbing the sketchbook before she could hit him again, "Then why are your cheeks so pink?"
Clary didn't grace that answer with a response. Instead, she crossed her arms and cast her scowl at him, eliciting a grin from the golden haired man. His fingers wandered curiously at the sketchbook and Clary felt her chest tighten. Her sketchbook had always been strictly for her own eyes. She only allowed others to look at one or two pictures she explicitly allowed them to, but she never let another person go through her sketchbook unbridled.
His golden eyes were curious, "May I?" He gestured to the book in his hands.
Clary knew that a lot of the pictures in there were of him. That thought alone made her want to grab it and lock it away so that he could never see it. But… part of her wondered what his reaction would be. Part of her was tempted to give another person access to a side of herself that no other was allowed to see. She had already opened herself up to Jace in a way that she never had to anyone else.
When she found her voice, she was surprised that it was dry, "I never let anyone look through it," she said.
Jace frowned, beginning to hand it back to her, "Oh, I'm–"
"But I'll let you," she continued. Jace looked surprised. "I'll let you, if you also show me something you've never showed anyone else."
Jace's eyes darkened. He had a heavy look on his face and Clary pretended that she could see gears working in his mind as he considered the proposition. She saw his gaze flicker to the book, saw him wondering if he really wanted to know its contents badly enough to share a part of himself for it. She expected that Jace rarely opened himself to others; there was probably no one but himself who knew his heart completely.
"Okay," he said finally, intense gaze meeting hers. "Deal." He measured the width of the sketchbook with his fingers and offered her a sly smile, "better get comfy."
He rearranged the pillows so that he sat against them upright, and he gestured for her to come over as well. Clary bit her lip. She thought that watching him go through her sketchbook would make her anxious, but she also wanted to make sure that he wasn't misinterpreting anything he found. That book held the contents of all of her private thoughts. It was a book of emotion; it was where she went every time her mind wandered from the present. So, she scrambled over to him and settled beside him. His arm went around her.
"You sure this is okay?" he asked, his voice in her ear.
"A deal's a deal, Wayland. Just don't forget about your end of it," she felt his arm tighten around her and she gazed at him curiously. His eyes were on the book. She held her breath as he opened to the first page.
Clary blinked. It was Luke. Had her picture of Luke always really been the first page? Her fingers gently touched it. She remembered that he had been the one to give the sketchbook to her.
"This is Luke," she said, sensing Jace's curious gaze. It was a profile sketch. On half the page there was Luke, staring ahead of him with a grin on his face and stubble poking out haphazardly. On the other side, facing him, there was the profile of a wolf. She didn't care about the symbolism she had been going for, she was just looking at that picture of Luke, feeling a pang in her chest. "I didn't realize how much I miss him," she said quietly.
Jace didn't say anything as he quietly turned the page. Clary almost laughed.
"And that's my mom, Jocelyn." It was another profile sketch, but Jocelyn's features were softer than Luke's. Her hair was in an updo, her features looking curious and focused. There was a hand in this drawing, which came up in the open space on the other half of the page, holding a paintbrush poised as if it were painting on a canvas that Jace and Clary couldn't see.
"Does she sketch like you, too?"
"Mostly paints," Clary said, "But when she sketches, she's better than me. She's an incredible artist."
"I don't think you give yourself enough credit," Jace said, "I haven't seen you do anything that I haven't thought was amazing."
The next page was an image of Jocelyn and Luke holding hands. Clary held back a laugh.
"I don't know why you were so worried about me looking through this," Jace said. Clary worried at her lip. This was the beginning of her sketchbook. These were from high school, so of course they would be filled with sketches of Luke and Jocelyn and Simon. Those were the people in her life, the ones of her heart. These sketches would be filled with love and wonder and fantasy. It was the ones further in the book she worried about.
"They look as if they're very in love," he said. Clary nodded. Jace turned suddenly. "Have you told them about… well, uh, this? This whole… situation."
Clary frowned. "Of course not. I don't think my mom would take well to our, uh, situation. No matter how I phrased it."
Jace frowned too. "You wouldn't have to tell her the whole truth."
"She wouldn't even like half the truth. I'm living with a man that I've only know for about, what, six months? Whether it was out of… an agreement or love, she wouldn't be happy."
"What if you told her I was a roommate?" Jace asked with a grin, "A very handsome, very tempting roommate."
Clary rolled her eyes, "In an apartment where there's only one bedroom. Don't worry, though, we don't do anything in the bed we share together. We just sleep."
Jace frowned, "That is the truth, though. I mean," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "unless you want to do something."
Clary ignored him. "Like anyone beside you and I would believe that. Simon doesn't even believe it."
Jace looked as if he was going to add something more, which most likely would have been suggestive, when the doorbell rang. He gave the sketchbook a glance. "We can return to this later."
As they approached the door, she wondered who would be behind it. Inevitably, it has to be Mr. Pangborn. She thought, which meant that she and Jace would have to return to their lover pretense. She almost sighed at the idea, her fingers moving to twirl the ring in a habit she had developed whenever she thought about her role. When her fingers touched bare skin, she froze.
"Jace," she hissed, causing him to stiffen. He turned to her with eyes wide in alarm. "The ring," she said, gesturing to her hand, "I don't have it."
He relaxed. "It's in my coat pocket," he said, reaching to grab the coat from the rack. As his fingers felt inside the pocket he froze, eyes going wide, "It's not here."
Clary felt her chest tighten, "Oh no, Jace," she said, looking at him sadly, "Your mother's ring..." she could only imagine the sentiment it must carry for Jace, how upset she would feel if she were in his place.
Jace offered her a reassuring smile, though Clary could read a certain sadness in his eyes, "It's nothing to worry about right now, we can look for it later," he reached out and gently grasped her hand, "For right now, you've just misplaced your engagement ring, a very ordinary thing."
Clary glanced at her bare fingers and felt strange, she had gotten used to the ring being there, had developed habits of twirling it around her finger. Though it was never legitimate, it had become a familiar weight on her fingers. As she looked up to meet his curious golden gaze, she realized with a bit of surprise that she also felt… relief. As if that weight had been heavier than she'd realized.
She smiled at him, "You're right," she squeezed his hand, "And I promise we will try to find it."
And with that, Jace opened the door. She imagined that he had a pleasant smile on his face, one of charm and grace. She was expecting him to greet his boss, or perhaps Simon. She wasn't expecting the confusion in his tone.
"Oh, hello there."
"Hi."
Clary froze.
"I'm Jace Way-" he hesitated, suddenly stiffening in recognition. "Um, Wayland. May I help you?"
What was that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear. It was what Clary had been longing for ever since she arrived in New York. There was yet another saying: Be careful what you wish for.
"Is Clary Fray here?"
She cringed. Jace somehow looked composed, but he glanced over his shoulder as if to ask what do you want me to say? Clary had no clue. There was no way this was real. This was a dream, and Jace would wake her up in a moment to make coffee and tease her.
"Oh, for goodness sake," Jocelyn pushed Jace aside and shoved her way into the foyer.
"M-mom!" Clary tried her best to look pleasantly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Jocelyn's mouth was pressed into a tight smile. "I wanted to come visit my children," she said. "Imagine my surprise to find that Simon is living in your brother's guest bedroom and you're apparently… here."
"I thought it was, um, weird… living with my brother," she said lamely. Jocelyn didn't look convinced. She raised her eyebrows and cast her cool gaze around the apartment. Her eyes found the paintings, the colorful rugs and furniture–all the things that said Clary. Yet, there were many things Jace here, things that would not have been Clary's first choice.
"So, you thought it would be less weird living with a strange man?" Jace cringed. He was usually so self-assured, it was strange to see the wide-eyed, helpless look he was giving her. If she weren't preoccupied with her flustered mother, she would have taken a moment to appreciate the look. It was cute, in a lost-puppy sort of way.
It was obvious that Clary had to take the lead in this situation. "Jace isn't a stranger," she said defensively. "He's… a friend. A… roommate. It's normal for people to have roommates in New York, mom."
"Yes," Jace agreed, clearing his throat. Clary felt relieved that he had recomposed himself, as he was a much better liar than she was. She wasn't nearly quick or convincing enough. "Rent is expensive otherwise. Sebastian is a friend of mine, and happened to know I was looking for a place to rent. He mentioned that Clary was also searching, and that perhaps we could find a place together."
Jocelyn didn't looked pleased by his explanation, but Clary at least felt relieved. He slid her a questioning glance and Clary nodded encouragingly. Jocelyn, meanwhile, was breezing around the small apartment.
"There's only one bedroom."
"Yeah," Jace said, "Um, Clary and I decided that this was the best deal of the places we found. It's affordable, the complex covers utilities, and it's in a good neighborhood. So we rock-paper-scissored for who would take the couch and I lost."
Jace gestured towards the basket by the couch, which had a neatly folded duvets and pillows. Truthfully, Jace didn't sleep on the couch very much anymore. Clary absently thought it was kind of sweet that he had kept the duvets there, so as not to pressure her with the idea of permanently sharing a bed together.
Clary peeked at her mom. She didn't look like her picture from earlier. Features hard, eyes narrowed. She looked like a female, red-headed Sherlock Holmes who was solving a murder. And Clary was the one who did it.
Jocelyn crossed her arms. "And you never thought to tell me that you had moved in with…"
"Um, Jace, Ma'am," Jace said in answer to her gesture towards him.
"Jace," she repeated. Clary felt something in her chest tighten at hearing his name come out of her mom's mouth. "And were no longer living with your brother."
Clary looked abashed, "Well, mom. I'm an adult now. It's not exactly like I need your permission." She saw hurt flash in her mother's eyes. Clary sighed. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you, either. It's just... " she pursed her lips and glanced at Jace, who looked tentative. "We weren't sure how… permanent this situation was."
Jocelyn sighed. When she glanced at Clary again, the accusation in her eyes had faded. "I suppose you're right. It's none of my business what you do…I'm not going to pretend that I love your situation, but it's not my place to tell you what to do."
A knot that had been building in Clary's stomach loosened. She knew that was as much approval as she was going to get from her mom, and it truthfully went better than she had hoped. Now, she smiled. "It's good to see you, though," she said, "I missed you."
Jocelyn smiled back, "I miss you too."
When Clary hugged her mom, she could smell her familiar scent. Jocelyn smelled of rosemary and Luke's farmhouse, which reminded her so much of home that tears nearly came to her eyes. It was comforting to have her here, when she was so unsure of everything else in her life.
Jocelyn's fingers came to Clary's cheeks, feeling slightly wrinkled and worn from years of constant use. "How are you?" she asked, voice soft, affectionate.
Clary smiled, "I'm well, mom," she said, although she wasn't sure if she meant it. Oblivious to Jace, watching the two of them curiously, Clary's hand went up to grasp her mother's.
Jocelyn broke suddenly from their embrace, whirling around to face an alarmed looking Jace "And you!" she said, and Clary held her breath as her mom stalked over to him. She looked as if she was about to attack him.
Jace watched the red-headed woman approach him cautiously, clearly unsure how to navigate this situation. Clary had to stifle a laugh at his confounded expression when she pulled him into a hug.
"Thank you for looking after my daughter in New York," Jocelyn said earnestly. Jace met Clary's eyes over her mother's shoulder, and held her gaze.
"I'd never let anything happen to her, Mrs. Fray."
The sincerity in Jace's eyes, coupled with a fierce adoration, held Clary frozen in that moment. She thanked the angel when he finally broke away, as she struggled to regain her composure.
"Call me Jocelyn," she corrected as she pulled away, gazing at his face. She brought her hands to his cheeks to inspect his face, "And look at you. So handsome. My daughter is a lucky girl."
Clary was mortified, "Mom," she groaned, suppressing the urge to bury her face in her hands and hide how bright her cheeks had become. The last thing Jace needed was an ego boost, especially from her mother. But when Clary caught his eyes again, his expression was unreadable. It was far from the mocking self-indulgence she had been expecting.
"Now then," Jocelyn interrupted Clary's thoughts, glancing between the two of them with a twinkle in her eye, "I guess I should get back to Sebastian's. I'll call you later, Clary."
And with that, she left, leaving Jace and Clary wide eyed in her wake.
"It wasn't that bad," Jace reasoned, rubbing her back comfortingly. Clary had been sharing their traumatic experience of the day to the rest of the crew at Alec's bar.
"It was pretty bad," Clary and Sebastian said at the same time. Upon returning to Sebastian's apartment, Jocelyn had apparently given him an earful about lying.
"I second that," Simon agreed, having to had also faced Jocelyn's wrath.
Alec poured each of them a drink and Sebastian held it up.
"To our crazy mother," he said, and everyone cheered. Except for Jace.
Clary frowned at him. He had been strange all day, and she wasn't able to place what it was about. She thought he would have been smug from her mother's stamp of approval, but he hadn't even mentioned it. Had it been the nightmare? Or, could it have something to do with their bargain earlier that day? He hadn't seemed particularly enthused about upholding his end of the deal.
But as she stared at him, she thought it was maybe something more. She recalled the sadness behind his eyes when they couldn't find the ring and suddenly felt guilty for not paying more attention to him, having been so caught up in her own drama.
"Jace," Clary said, touching his shoulder to draw him out of his reverie. "Is everything okay?"
He jumped a little bit at her touch, which was strange in of itself. He was typically well collected, but today he was jumpy and uncertain and vulnerable. When he saw that it was Clary, he offered her an easy smile.
"I'm fine," he said, "I just have to work tomorrow, is all. Turns out that hangovers and teaching english to teenagers isn't a fun combination." He touched her shoulder affectionately, rubbing it with his thumb. "But you had a rough day, you should have fun."
"But you just seem–"
"I'm okay, beautiful," he grinned at her, "Really."
"Clary!" Sebastian called, "Come have a shot with me in spite of mom."
Clary looked between Jace and Sebastian. She wondered if sometimes it was weird that she had developed this… relationship with Jace when they had been good friends before. Could that be what was upsetting him?
Jace sensed her hesitation as concern and gave her a wicked smile, "Don't tell me you're a lightweight, Fray. I was excited to liquor each other up sometime, but it's no fun if the other person taps out after a sip."
Clary narrowed her eyes. "I am not a lightweight!" she said defiantly, turning on her heel and stalking toward her brother, where she challenged him to a line of shots, with Simon as a slightly biased and incoherent referee. She didn't see the smile that escaped Jace's face the moment she walked away, and soon enough, she became too drunk to remember that there had been anything troubling the blonde in the first place.
