Jace Herondale had been beaten at a lot of things.

He had gotten into a fight at the Institute with Evan Highsmith when he had been eleven, when he was thirteen, a boy had beaten him in a fighting competition at the Institute, he had come in second place in the music competition at the Institute when he was seven. He had even lost to his Isabelle at a hopscotch competition.

But never before had he come in second place to a cat.

Jace and Clary had come home from an uneventful movie night one Sunday night. The film had been extremely dull, and the popcorn had been stale, so they had just resigned themselves to snogging in the backseats. It had been Jace's idea to leave home to their apartment halfway through the movie, so that they could indulge in something a little more fun.

They had barely managed to come all the way home before Jace had Clary pressed against the brick wall, kissing her furiously. She reciprocated, and threw her arms around his neck. He had just put his hands near her jeans belt until she drew away, her green eyes looking at something on the ground.

"What?" he asked irritably. Clary leaned down and picked something up, her back to him.

"What did you do that for?" he asked indignantly. "We were having fun, and you had to ruin it."

Clary turned towards him, and Jace jumped back into the wall, hitting his head against the wall.

"What the hell is that?" he yelled, swearing.

Clary glared at him. "It's a cat, Jace."

"I know what a cat is, Clary, I'm asking why did you pick it up?" Jace asked, rubbing his head.

"It looks injured," she frowned. "We should take care of it."

"Clary, I'm all for caring for innocent animals, but can we do this another time?"

"No," she said. "We're going to take it home, and call the vet, and in the meantime, feed it or something."

Jace groaned; there was no arguing with Clary when she had set her mind on something. They trudged up the stairs, Clary holding the cat and Jace following her disgruntledly, the romantic mood dissipated.

The cat seemed to be looking at Jace over Clary's shoulder smugly, happy at being chosen before him. Its fur was a pale, golden blonde, exactly the color of his hair. He shot it a dirty glare and raked his fingers through his curls. Clary was oblivious to their actions, and opened the door and set the cat on the table, where it stretched out and lay on the table, fur ruffled.

"I'm going to go call the vet," Clary said. "Will you look after him?"

Jace wanted to say no and tell her what he really wanted to do, but said yes and sat next to the cat and glared at it. The cat opened an eye and shot him a sleepy glance of indifference, then closed it again, which only angered him more.

"This is all your fault," he said. "If you weren't here I'd be doing something much more pleasurable with my girlfriend than looking at you."

The cat said nothing.

"What's even wrong with you? Are you just pretending to be hurt to get food or something? I'll give you food, just get out of my flat."

The cat yawned, arching its back. Jace groaned desperately.

"What do you want from me? I offered you food and everything, what else do you need?"

The cat stretched leisurely and hopped onto the piano.

"Oh no, you don't," Jace growled. "If you scratch that I don't care what Clary thinks, I'm throwing you out of the window."

The cat gave him a dirty look. Clary reentered the sitting room at that moment, carrying a bowl of milk in one hand. She set in front of the cat who jumped down from the piano and started drinking the milk, making Jace run over to his beloved piano and inspect it for scratches.

"The vet will be here in ten minutes," Clary said, looking at the cat fondly. Jace narrowed his eyes.

"Don't get too attached to it, we'll probably never see it again."

"I know, but just look at him! He's so adorable!" Clary gushed.

"Why do you find him so adorable? He looks like an ordinary cat."

"I—never mind."

"What?"

"He looks like you."

"What?"

"Look at his fur! It's like your hair."

"My hair's much better than that."

"Jace, stop bragging. He's got blonde fur, and some of it's curly, and he seems to like your piano. Look, he's sitting on it right now."

"No, he isn't—fucking hell, get off my piano, cat."

"Jace, leave him be, he's just playing."

"If he scratches that—"

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

"Stop being paranoid," Clary answered. She picked up the cat and hugged him, the cat comfortably nestling in her arms. Her long, dark hair fell to her elbows, and the cat pawed it, trying to hold some in his paws. Clary giggled. Jace narrowed his eyes. As much as he hated the cat, his girlfriend seemed to adore it. She kissed its head, and pouted at Jace. He realized what was going on.

"No."

"Oh, please, Jace."

"No, Clary."

"He's so adorable. Look at him!"

"I already looked. I don't like him," Jace snapped.

"But I love him!"

"I don't. And besides, we have Church."

"We gave him to Isabelle and Julian," said Clary. "And I thought you likes cats, anyway. You like Chairman Meow, right?"

"I like Chairman Meow because he isn't mine and I don't have to take care of him."

"But you do like him."

"I thought I was the only blonde you liked," Jace said petulantly.

"That's not true, I like Isabelle."

"Fine, I thought I was the only blonde you liked kissing."

"You keep that up, Jace Herondale, and you'll take second place in my kissing list."

Jace growled and raked his fingers through his hair. "We're not keeping that thing."

"Don't call him that, he's a cat, not a thing. And why not?"

"Because only one of us wants him. So, no."

"Why don't you want him?"

"Because I don't want another living thing in this flat except you. Plus, I don't like cats."

"What? Why the bloody hell not?"

"I'll have you know, when I was fourteen, a cat scratched me and Isabelle," Jace snarled. "Isabelle was trying to pet this stray cat, and I told her not to, but she did it anyway, and one thing led to another, and she and I had to get mundane injections for preventing rabies, and I got three iratzes," he growled. Clary bit her lip. After a while, Jace realized she was trying not to laugh.

"Do you find this amusing?" he snarled at her. Clary shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry, I really am, and that must have hurt, but the way you said it…" Clary couldn't help it, she let out a giggle. "That was funny."

"Clary!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just…" she buried her face in the cat's fur. "Please, Jace, can we keep him?"

"Clary, I love you, and I'd do absolutely anything to make you happy, but not this."

"Give him a chance, Jace, please. Please. For me."

Jace sighed. "I really don't like cats, Clary."

"But you like me, don't you? Please, Jace."

"Clary, having a pet is like having a baby. We aren't there yet. We're only twenty."

"It's a cat; all it does is sleep and eat. We don't have to take him to the park, just monthly appointments to the vet, feed him, groom him, and take care of him."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

"Please consider it."

"I don't need to consider, I already know what my answer is. No."

"Jace."

"What?"

"You didn't even consider it." When Jace looked at her, he saw she really looked hopeful, she really liked this cat. This fact frustrated him, he loved Clary, but not the cat. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Fine."

Clary looked at him and beamed, her green eyes sparkling. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not? You like it, and you want to keep it, and it makes you happy. As long as it doesn't scratch my piano, and stays out of the bed, I'll tolerate it."

"Tolerate it?" Clary asked indignantly.

"Fine, learn to love it."

Clary squealed, deposited the cat on the sofa, and flung herself onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging him tightly.

"Thank you!" she cried out.

"I. Can't. Breathe," Jace gasped out. Clary didn't let go of him. He could smell her hair; it smelled of strawberries and her shampoo.

"I love you, thank you so much," she said into the crook of his neck. Jace grumbled and patted her back; she didn't seem annoyed at all at the gesture.

She drew away, her cheeks flushed. "I want to name him Bob."

"No. Absolutely not," Jace protested indignantly. "If I'm going to have a cat I'm not naming him Bob."

"Fine, Sergei, then."

"What are we, the Russians? No."

"Ian."

"It's a cat, not an underwear model."

Clary snorted. "Danny."

The cat scrunched up its nose; Jace pointed at it. "See? Even he hates it."

"Oh, he's just like you."

"What?"

"All that arrogance and haughtiness covering up so much adorableness. I won't be surprised if he starts talking like you soon enough."

"And how exactly do you think I talk like, Clary?"

"Oh, Clary," Clary said, adopting a lofty tone to her voice. "Why can't you just accept that I'm so much better at everything in life and Shadowhunting things than you?"

"I do not sound like that."

"Oh, Clary," Clary continued. "That's not the right key. That is. Listen to me, will you, I'm so much better at this than you are."

"I am better at piano than you are. Your playing would make damages even Magnus's magic can't fix," Jace drawled.

"Oh, Clary," Clary said, ignoring Jace's statement and picking up The-cat-yet-to-be-named. "So what if I can't paint? I can play piano, and isn't that enough when I write songs for you?"

"You weren't complaining when you heard the last one," Jace grumbled.

"Oh, Clary," Clary said, her mouth quirking up at a corner. "Of course I wasn't flirting with that girl. I love you, don't I, those other girls mean nothing to me. I don't kiss them or anything like that, do I?"

"I don't!" Jace protested. Clary laughed.

"Oh, Clary, cats are annoying pests. They're disgusting and hairy, and all they'll do is disrupt my relationship with you. And they could scratch my precious piano."

"They could!"

Clary laughed. "What if I promise that he won't? If he does, I promise I won't kiss him for an hour."

"What kind of punishment is that?" Jace protested indignantly. "When I forgot to buy more cereal, you wouldn't kiss me for a week!"

"You had morning breath," Clary said, depositing The-cat-yet-to-be-named on the couch.

"Every day?"

"Yes."

"Throughout the day?" he snarled.

"Yes."

Jace narrowed his eyes at her and looked back at the cat, who looked back at him with a scowl.

"This is Chandler," Clary said happily, handing over the cat to an excited Magnus, while Jace sat on the couch glumly, his long legs crossed.

Magnus, Simon, Alec, and Isabelle had come over for dinner that week, and Clary had taken it as the perfect opportunity to introduce them to their new cat, whom she had named after a character in a regrettably amusing mundane television show. Isabelle had immediately taken a liking to it, and Magnus had fallen in love the minute he saw him, irking Alec. Simon had announced that his cat Yossarian and Chandler would get along, making Jace rub his temples. Now he and Alec were sitting together, glaring at Clary and Jace's new cat as their respective significant others cooed and petted it.

"This is all your fault," Alec grumbled. Jace glared.

"Not mine. Clary's. She was the one who insisted we keep the fucking thing."

"Language," said Alec, in the tone of a father scolding Max or Rafe for breaking something in the house. Jace rolled his eyes. "And if you dislike it so much, then why'd you keep it?"

"Clary," Jace grumbled, as if that explained everything.

"You straight people," Alec declared. "You're really weak-willed, aren't you?"

"Oh, you're one to talk," said Jace. "I distinctly remember you putting on glittery pants yesterday for Magnus."

Alec didn't say anything.

Jace smirked, and looked back at his and Clary's new cat, glaring. The cat had been getting on his last nerve all day, sleeping on his piano and hissing at him.

He was sincerely contemplating throwing it out of the window.

But, looking at Clary and Chandler-the-cat, he felt that maybe he should wait before proposing the idea.

After all, he didn't want to go another month of not getting kissed.

Clary stumbled out of the bar she and Isabelle usually frequented, and felt the cool wind on her skin.

It was Isabelle's birthday, and they had gone out to celebrate. Isabelle had found herself in the embrace of Simon, who was drunk as well, and Clary, not wanting to look at their show, had stepped out.

The truth was, she had felt so lonely when she saw them. Jace hadn't come with her and Isabelle, as he had work, and she hadn't seen him in a week.

She had an idea.

She pulled out her phone and dialed his number. He was probably sleeping now, as it was one-thirty in the night, but who cared?

Jace picked up on the fifth ring, his voice heavy with sleep. "Hello?" he asked.

"Jace!" she said happily, pressing the phone to her ears as she hailed a cab. "You're awake!"

"I wasn't," he said, trying to sound annoyed, but not succeeding. "Where's Isabelle?"

"Making out with Simon. But don't worry, she's not drunk."

"Are you drunk?"

"No! I just had one drink…or two…or six…or eight," she said guiltily. She heard Jace sigh through the phone.

"Where are you?"

"No, don't worry. I'm calling a cab."

Clary almost heard Jace sit up. "A cab?" he demanded. "With an unknown person? While you're drunk?"

"Mm hm," Clary hummed. "Don't worry."

"Don't worry? How can I not worry—where are you, Clary?"

"Don't get up because of me!"

"Well, you are the one who called me," he drawled.

"You know what I mean. Don't come."

"You don't have a choice," he said. Clary heard him open the cupboard door. "Damn it…where the hell do you keep your car keys, Clary?"

"Bring the bike," she said, having developed a fondness for it. Jace had kept the vampire bike even after the war, and regularly rode it, bringing Clary along for rides.

"You'll fall off," he grumbled. "Will you please tell me where you are?"

"425 Troutman Street. Rookery."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"Ok."

"Clary," he said sounding tired.

"Hm?" he asked.

"Don't do anything stupid," he said warily.

"Oh, come on," said Clary, hopping from one stone tile of the pathway to the other. "I'm not the reckless one in this relationship, remember?"

"Yes, Clary, I remember," said Jace, and Clary heard the door close behind him.

"Alec calls you reckless, Isabelle calls you reckless, Simon calls you reckless, Magnus calls you reckless, Luke, Mom, Maryse, even Max and Rafe—"

"It's a very long list, yes, I get it, Clary," Jace said shortly. "Fucking hell, it's cold," he said suddenly. "How are you outside, Clary?"

"I'm drunk," she said cheerfully, as if that explained everything.

"Really?" Jace drawled. "I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, stop being such a worrywart, Jace," she said, fiddling with the ribbon in her hair. "I'm not going to get in trouble."

"Really?" Jace asked, and Clary heard the noise of an engine starting. "Said the drunk person who was going to get into a cab with an unknown sleazy driver in the middle of the night. In Brooklyn."

"You don't know if he's sleazy."

"He's probably sleazy."

"He's probably not."

"You said probably."

"Whatever. And even if he was, I'm a runed Shadowhunter who knows how to fight and kill with knives, swords, crossbows—"

"Do you have any of those things with you, Clary?" Jace asked wearily.

"Well, no, but—"

"I win the argument. Case closed."

"You do not," she said, fired up. "I can throw a good punch as well."

"I seriously doubt that, in your inebriated state."

"Big words, big words," she hummed. "Use easy ones, won't you?"

"No," he said shortly.

"Do you know what I'm wearing right now, Jace?" Clary asked, dropping her voice slightly. "Thigh high boots. The black dress you like. And no—"

"Stop talking or I might crash the car," Jace said, making Clary laugh. She suddenly saw the car pull up, and broke out into a smile. Sending a quick text to Simon and Isabelle that she was leaving. Jace pulled up in front of her, his expression slightly annoyed, and Clary flashed him a bright smile.

"Hey, baby."

"Don't call me baby, Clary," Jace said, rubbing his temples. "Get in."

Clary climbed in, grinning, and Jace sped off. She looked at him, and beamed. "You look very handsome, Jace."

"Thank you, Clary."

"Let's go to a party," she said suddenly, and Jace looked at her warily. "A party to celebrate us hanging out again."

"We hung out last week."

"But that was so long ago."

"We're going home, Clary."

"To have sex?"

"To sleep," he said. "And pray that you don't have too much of a hangover tomorrow."

"But I don't want to sleep," Clary pouted. "I want to have fun. Like, partying fun. Let's go to another bar," she said suddenly, and Jace looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "We could dance, have drinks, hop on bars—"

"No," Jace said immediately.

"But, baby, I want to party."

"Don't call me baby, Clary," Jace said again, stepping out of the car. Clary opened the door and stumbled outside in a fit of giggles. Jace rushed over to catch her before she could hit the ground, and she beamed at him with a wide smile.

"Catch me when I fall," she quoted. "Thank you, Jace."

"You're welcome, Clary," said Jace, and his tone sounded vaguely amused. Clary suddenly pushed him against the door of the Institute and attacked his lips with hers, pressing her hand against his chest. Jace made a muffled noise and tried to open the door, but Clary took hold of his hand and placed it on her waist.

"Not now," she panted against his lips. "Out here is much hotter."

"Clary—"

"Jace," she said, delving her tongue into his mouth. Jace made an appreciative noise but drew away quickly, and Clary glared at him, annoyed.

"What was that for?"

"I'm not doing this with you while you're drunk, Clary," he said, taking her by the hand. "You need to go to bed."

"I don't want to go to bed," Clary whined. "I want to get hot, and sweaty, and wild—"

Jace suddenly picked her up and swung her over his shoulder before she could get another word out. She made a sound of protest, and hit him on the back.

"What is wrong with you? Put me down, Jace! Put me down now!"

"No," he replied shortly, and walked towards Alec's bedroom, where she knew he was sleeping that night. Jace opened the door and saw Alec, and along with him Max and Rafe and the box of Hungry Hungry Hippos open at his feet. Alec looked over at them, annoyed, whereas Max and Rafe simply looked excited.

"While I am fully in support of your relationship, perhaps I should remind you that there are children present," Alec ground out as Rafe started jumping on the bed.

"Why are they here? I thought they were with Magnus," Jace said, depositing Clary on the beanbag sitting by the door.

"Rafe threw a tantrum, so of course Max had to join in," Alec grumbled.

"What was it about?" Jace inquired.

"You," Alec said grumpily. "They wouldn't go to sleep and wanted to see you. They weren't listening to me."

"Aren't you supposed to be the parent?" Jace asked, amused.

"I am their parent," Alec ground out. "But I am not a warlock. But my younger son is. And Magnus is in Thailand to help the warlocks there. And my younger son, the light of my life, threatened to turn me into a corn plant if I didn't bring them over."

Clary and Jace snorted. Alec looked livid. "It isn't funny."

"Please," said Clary, walking over to give Rafe a hug, who excitedly jumped into her arms. "Now who's the weak-willed person?"

Alec glared furiously. Rafe wrinkled his nose. "Aunt Clary."

"Just Clary, Rafe," Clary said gently, and saw Jace shoot her look out of the corner of her eye.

"Aunt Clary," said Rafe, ignoring her, and Alec rolled his eyes. "You smell funny."

"Hm?" Clary asked, dazed. Her head was starting to ache and her tongue was dry. "I smell…funny?"

"Yeah," said Rafe, shaking his small head. "Like how the cupboard Papa keeps hidden. The one with all the funny drinks. They taste weird."

"You tasted them?" Alec yelled. Rafe looked at his father, puzzled.

"Yes. When you were out. They didn't taste that great, anyway."

"The cupboard is locked. And the key is on the highest shelf of the house," Alec gritted out. "Don't expect me to believe you're tall enough to reach it."

"Max opened it," said Rafe, shrugging.

"Max!" Alec bellowed.

The little blue skinned warlock turned towards his father, eight marbles clutched in his tiny hands. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Max, did you open the wine cabinet Papa told you specifically not to open?"

Max looked sheepish. "Yes."

Alec closed his eyes in frustration. "Why?"

"Cause Rafe said so," Max replied.

"I did not!" Rafe protested indignantly.

"Yes, you did—"

"Enough!" Alec snapped. "When we get home, I'm going to call Magnus and ask him to put a locking spell on the door that only he can break when he comes back. And none of you are to ever touch the cabinet, ever. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Daddy," the boys said in unison. Max suddenly jumped off the bed and ran to Jace , and Alec turned to Clary, an expression of distaste on his face.

"Are you drunk?"

"Oh, come on," Clary said, giving Alec a hug. "It's not like you've never gotten drunk."

"Not by my own consent," Alec complained. "Peer pressure."

"You give in," said Clary, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm drunk, though. Jace and I were just going to go have hot, sweaty sex."

"No, we weren't," Jace's voice said from across the room. Alec looked furious.

"Really? Must you say that?"

"Yes," said Clary, taking out her phone. "I must."

"I have children."

"Who drink alcohol," Clary drawled. Alec's face was getting more and more livid every passing second.

"Why do I tolerate you? Never mind. I'm putting Rafe and Max to bed. They met you, it's done, they go to sleep now."

"No, they can't go to bed!" Clary cried. "We're going to have a party."

"No, we aren't," said Alec, scooping up Rafe. "They need to go to bed."

"I want to party," Max piped up helpfully, from Jace's arms.

"No," said Alec. "You're going to bed."

"I don't want to," said Max, running back to Jace for support. Alec shot Jace an desperate look. Jace looked amused.

"Come on, Max. If Dad says bed, then bed."

Max grumbled. "We never do anything fun."

"That is not true," said Alec. "You went to that mundane fair with Catarina las week, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and Rafe fell off the horse there," Max complained. "Then we had to go to the hospital."

"But you still…" Alec's voice drifted off as he and the boys walked out of the room and to the guest rooms. Jace looked at Clary warily.

"Bed for you too, Clary."

"No," said Clary stubbornly.

"Clary, bed."

"I'll go if you come with me," she replied, giving him a sultry look. Jace sighed.

"I'll sleep next to you."

"No. Let's have sex."

"No," said Jace irritably. "It's one-forty-five in the morning, and I was sleeping, and I should be sleeping right now, and so should you. I'm exhausted, and tired, and sleep-deprived. So you can let me sleep since you woke me up."

"Oh, don't get mad at me," Clary pouted. Jace sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"It's impossible to stay mad at you, Clary. But right now, you need to go to sleep."

Clary huffed. "Fine. But just know that you missed a chance tonight."

Jace laughed quietly. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Great. Good night, baby," Clary said, grinning, taking pleasure in the way she saw Jace wince.

"What are you both doing?"

"Miming for money," Clary said, focusing on the tray. Simon snorted. Jace looked annoyed.

"I meant, what are you doing without the sarcastic answer."

"That's going to be difficult to answer."

"Simon!" Jace said loudly. "Tell her to shut up."

"Who am I, your mother? No. And besides, I'm enjoying this," Simon said, grinning, crossing his arms.

"Fuck you."

"Jace, be nice," said Clary, licking frosting off the spoon. "We're making cookies. Happy?"

"Why?" Jace drawled.

"Because it's Christmas!" Clary said, passing Simon a box of sprinkles. "And people like cookies."

"I don't."

"I always said he was an abnormal person," Simon said cheerfully. Jace threw a spatula at him, which he dodged.

"No fighting in the kitchen," said Clary, her bright red hair tied up in a bun. A few loose strands had escaped from the knot and trailed down her back. "That's in the Institute."

"Want to help, Jace?" Simon asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose, spreading frosting on a few cookies.

"No," said Jace. "I'd much rather eat them."

"I thought you said you didn't like them."

"I lied."

"You're going to be a great example to Rafe and Max," said Clary.

"I know, I—fucking hell, what is that?"

"That's my cat," said Simon cheerfully. "Yossarian."

"I don't like him," said Jace immediately.

"You don't like anything that belongs to me," said Simon, picking up Yossarian and shooing him out of the kitchen. "And besides, don't you have a cat?"

"Chandler," Clary said fondly, and Jace made a face.

"I only agreed to keep him for Clary."

"He secretly loves him," Clary whispered to Simon.

"I heard that. And no, I do not like him. I tolerate him. Like how I tolerate Simon."

"One of my closest friends, everyone," Simon announced loudly to no one in particular, and Clary folded her hands and looked at her boyfriend pointedly.

"Jace, you're being an ass to Simon."

"I am not."

"Jace."

Simon snorted at her tone, and Clary glared at him. "You really could help, you know."

"But I don't want to," Jace said in a bored voice.

"Get out of my kitchen."

"Technically, it's Simon and Isabelle's kitchen," said Jace, plucking an apple from the fruit basket. "God, why are the forks pink?"

"Isabelle wanted them to be pink," Simon replied, his eyes focused on the new batch of chocolate chip cookies Clary had just pulled out of the oven. Jace rolled his eyes.

"You're a spineless coward," Jace observed. "You hate pink."

"Yes," Simon agreed.

"Then?" Jace demanded. "Tell that to Isabelle."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm slightly terrified of her," Simon said dryly. Clary shook her head and set the cookies on a cooling tray, and Jace reached out to take one, only to have his hand smacked by Clary.

"Ouch!" he said, rubbing his hand. "What was that for?"

"If you're not going to help, you can't have them right now," Clary said, kissing him on the nose.

"You're being rude."

"I know," she sang, then kissed him. Simon made a face. "How was your day?" she asked, after pulling away. Jace looked at her, amused.

"Small talk? Really?"

"Yes," she said, biting into a cookie, earning an outraged look from Jace. "Tell me."

"I learned a new word today."

"Like all five-year-olds usually do," said Simon, smirking at Jace. "Oh, wait."

"Run, Simon."

"Enough," said Clary, rubbing her temples. Can we get through fifteen minutes of you two being together without any snarky comments?"

"No," said Simon and Jace in unison, and Clary sighed.

"Forget it. Continue, Jace."

"Convivial. The word I learned. It means to describe someone or something who is great company," said Jace, biting into the apple. "Oh, look, Simon, they finally found an antonym for your personality."

Simon shot him a foul look; Jace grinned evilly. Clary sighed. "You know, all I wanted was for my best friend and my boyfriend to get along with each other."

"I like him," said Jace agreeably. "He's just a dick sometimes."

"Rude," said Simon conversationally.

"People frequently describe me as so," said Jace, kissing Clary. "Where's Magnus, anyway? At least then I'll have someone to make fun of you with."

"Magnus wouldn't do that," Clary murmured, mixing batter in a bowl.

"I beg to differ," said Jace. "Magnus and I schedule nights together to mock all of you."

"Even me?" Clary said, outraged. Jace shrugged.

"Not me. Magnus. I simply mock Simon, Alec, and Isabelle. Especially Simon. Because he's so easy to make fun of."

"I love this guy," said Simon, patting Jace's shoulder. "He's just so likable."

"Thanks, Simon."

"Get out of my kitchen."

There it is! My first TMI fic! Just one-shots, but still.

Please tell me what you think, and please review, I need feedback.

I take prompts and asks on my Tumblr, at adriannalovesthestars, you can find me there. Please note that I do not write smut, but I do write fluff and general fics.

See you guys soon!

Sophie