Either I'm going to write a different story or a sequel to this or in this story, in which shit goes down. It will be a totally different tone. Like, the kind that needs trigger warnings. What do you guys think? Different story, sequel, or just on this one after the Sebastian conflict is resolved?
"Clary." Jocelyn chimed.
"No. Nuh-uh" She said into her pillow, sneaking a quick look at her clock. "It's not even noon yet."
"Jace is here." Her mother cajoled.
"He's a patient man." The younger redhead grumbled untruthfully.
"I'm sending him up and if you get a rude awakening it's no fault of mine."
"Traitor," she mumbled, eyes closing again of their own accord.
In what felt like the next instant her sheets and covers were off of her. Being that she was only in a shirt Jace had left at her house for the times he slept over—which Jocelyn had forbidden since their romance began, much to their chagrin—this was neither pleasant, nor warm. Then she looked at him and she noticed the way he was looking at her, his eyes dark, nostrils flared and his fingers clenched in a concerted effort to control himself and her body instantly heated. "Holy shit, Ris. For my sanity, please put some clothes on."
"Are you sure, Jace? Don't you like it?"
"Clary. Your mother and Luke are downstairs, but all the same I am five seconds from showing you how much I like it. However, I don't think they'll like that so please, please get dressed before I push you up against a wall and try my best to have my wicked way with you."
"I like wicked things." She said, enjoying his expression more by the moment but donning a pair of leggings all the same.
"Leggings." He muttered. "You trying to kill me, woman?"
"Not until we're married and you have an insurance policy," she said lightly, patting his chest as she passed him. His brows furrowed and he blinked before he turned to follow her.
What?
"We're making pancakes and eggs!" Clary said from the stove, standing next to her mother.
"It's noon." Jace said incredulously, walking into the kitchen.
"So?"
"So pancakes are a break…"
Luke interceded. "No! Don't do it. It's not worth arguing with the Fray women about whether breakfast is appropriate for all twenty four hours of a day. Don't you know this by now?"
He didn't, because pancakes really weren't a common thing; in all the times he'd been over, he'd never been around for them.
"I accept your superior wisdom." Jace said, accepting his plate of pancakes. "Clary, can I have some…"
"On it!" She called, head still stuck in the fridge.
"Is that…mustard?" Jocelyn asked shocked and disgusted.
"Yes." The teens answered in sync, as Jace handed Clary her two favorite syrups without her having to ask.
"How did you even know he likes mustard on eggs? Have you ever eaten eggs together?"
Clary laughed. "Jace likes mustard on everything. If he dipped Oreos in mustard I wouldn't be at all surprised."
Jace decided to play along and slammed a fist on the table. "You know what? That was one time, Clary."
She laughed. Jace was pleased to be the one who made her laugh. He did it plenty often but it was never enough times. Besides her whole face lit up with happiness and he got to know that it had been him to put the happiness there. Everything about her was perfect and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered into her ear, eliciting a contented smile.
"No cussing in this house, Jace." Luke said sternly, his eyes dancing with amusement when Jace blushed.
"Okay," Jocelyn said as everyone finished eating, "You two, out."
"Need some alone time with Luke, Mom?" Clary teased
"Yes," she said, making Clary blanch, "the kind of alone time you have to be at least seventeen for."
"I'm seventeen next month," Clary said, pleased with herself.
Her mom recovered instantly, "Then you have to be eighteen."
Clary didn't miss a beat. "Jace is almost eighteen."
"Out," Jocelyn rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.
Clary pecked her on the cheek and the two teens strolled out the door, their fingers linking out of habit.
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The following Monday Clary determined that her teachers—all of them—were on the path to genocide. What would be the specific term, she wondered. You've got geronticide and patricide…youthicide? Adolescicide? Hmm…
Perhaps she was overreacting a bit but six pages of notes in History, thirty five problems in math, a pop quiz in Spanish and a six page essay due next week for RS Composition had to be borne of murderous intentions. RS is a college class, her conscience reminded her. She mentally swung at the voice, happily imagining knocking it away from her ear. She pushed her hair away from her face and then opened her locker where she found a rose and a note. Expecting it to be from Jace she opened the note on the spot with a smile. Her face turned sour when she recognized the handwriting. Sebastian. Discreetly, she slipped both into her sleeve then discarded them into a trash can, hoping no one was the wiser. She didn't want to hurt Sebastian when he was so clearly sorry, but she wasn't prepared to forgive him either.
She wanted to talk to someone about this. To debate whether it was normal or creepy; whether it meant she should forgive him; if she should ignore it or acknowledge it. Izzy would tell Jace and Si would tell Izzy. Her mother would guilt her into telling Jace herself. That left Luke, who would fly into a monumental rage, or Alec. They weren't close but she was still his kid sister's best friend and his kid brother's girlfriend. Alec it was, then.
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"Should I ignore it? Ask him to leave me alone, maybe?"
"That's up to you. You know him better than I and you know if you're ready to face him or not. Either way, he's obviously sorry, so if you do talk to him, know what you want. Whether that's to be friends, friendly acquaintances or just staying the hell away from each other, make sure you know and that you let him know. But Clary, don't think that you have to talk to him, okay? You need to do what you feel right doing."
"I'm sort of at war with myself," she admitted, "on the one hand I'm just a generally forgiving person and my heart is telling me to accept his apology and move forward. The logical part is saying he's faking it: he's not sorry. And…there's a piece of me that…that wants him to work for my forgiveness. I just want him to really want it, you know? He's said sorry enough times that he needs to prove it beyond a shadow of doubt. Is that terrible of me?"
Alec debated his words. "That depends. It sounds like you're just being cautious but if you're enjoying it then yeah, it's a little terrible."
"I don't want to be spiteful, or angry. I want to be sure."
"That's fair enough." He acknowledged.
"Thanks Alec. You wanna watch a movie?"
"No, thanks, Clary. I gotta meet Magnus, but you go ahead."
Clary had opted to do just that and was about half hour in when Izzy came into the living room.
"Clary!"
"Annabelle! I mean Isabelle!"
'Clary, I really think you have a problem."
"I could stop watching this movie whenever I felt like it Iz. You wanting to take it away is the problem."
"Clary. Fork that remote over."
"Nah, I don't think so." Clary said, settling in to the couch more comfortably.
"But," Izzy floundered, "how can you enjoy a movie whose ending makes so little sense?"
"Perfect sense," Clary volleyed. She still had not removed her eyes from the screen. "I bet Jace would watch it with me."
"Watch what?" Said the man himself, strolling into the room.
"Why Loving Annabelle of course."
Jace agreed to, though he was certain he was going to regret it horribly and she simply started the movie over so he could see it from the beginning. She cuddled into him closely and he placed an arm around her. "Am I going to wish I hadn't agreed to this?"
Clary sighed. "That actress gets naked," she promised.
He didn't mention it, but he'd rather see Clary naked, no matter how hot Erin Kelly is.
Later they would argue about this movie. Jace would argue that a teacher-student relationship was just wrong and Clary would ask how he could ever begrudge them love just because of an age difference. He'd tell her it's the teacher thing and then she'd ask the question that changed his mind.
"What if you were a teacher and I was your student? Wouldn't you still love me?"
He couldn't really argue with that. Of course he would still love her. No matter what their circumstances were; their differences; their obstacles; their situations; come whatever, he would love her with his every fucking breath and both of them knew that.
He was turning into a sap and he knew it. And he didn't care at all.
She was more than worth it; she was worth everything and she always had been.
She didn't tell him, that night, about the rose or the card. She didn't tell him about the miserable look on Sebastian's face or that she was on the fast-track to forgiving him. She decided not to say anything until she made her decision. She was already leaning towards forgiveness and she was almost positive he would not like her decision, and she couldn't let him change her mind or talk her out of it. She had to do this; no matter that he meant well. Yeah, she'd given Sebastian a second chance already and a third, probably a fourth as well she supposed. He'd never before seemed genuinely regretful, though, so either his acting skills had magnified overnight or he knew he'd crossed the line.
That was a good sign because Clary knew Sebastian had always worried he would be like his brother. All the times before when he'd grabbed her, he'd lamented that he was just like Valentine, (I know, I know, Valentine's his father, but it works better this way) a sociopath with no qualms about taking what he wanted and hurting people. Clary had to admit she'd worried about it, too, for a moment after he had hit her but if he was truthfully sorry, and she thought he was, she should forgive him. She'd tell him she had as soon as she had the guts to tell Jace. He was going to be so mad and Clary hated it when Jace was mad at her. Not that she thought he'd hurt her—he would never—not physically—but he was very practiced at the cold shoulder and cruel words. He could crush a person in a couple of phrases. She'd seen it, experienced it, during the only fight they'd ever had.
He'd practically been begging her to go to Pandemonium with him. Kaelie was going to be there. He had had a serious crush on her and, figuring he might as well pursue it, given that Clary was with Sebastian, Jace wanted to be there.
She'd refused, though. "I'm not coming out tonight, Jace. My mom and I are already fighting and…"
"And what? She's a perfectionist Clary and you're never going to fucking be perfect. You can't possibly be everything so you might as well just be you. Let's fucking go."
"Sorry," she sneered, "but I'm also an imperfect friend," and her window slammed shut.
So, yes, she knew what his words could do and she needed time to prepare her heart for the almost guaranteed thoughtless—albeit unmeant—verbal onslaught.
Two more apology notes, a verbal apology and a box of her favorite candy later, Clary knew she had to just do it.
"I'm forgiving Sebastian." She told Jace, conversationally.
The Golden Boy narrowed his eyes. That had been too nonchalant. Practiced. "Really."
"Really, he seems genuinely sorry. Besides," she continued, "I'm not interested in hating someone. It's tiring. And it's toxic."
"You can't forgive him."
"I can. I am. Come to terms with it or don't, but do not expect that I'll change my mind."
His jaw clenched. "It's a bad fucking idea."
"I know him." She said, fighting to remain calm. "And he's sorry."
"Oh, he's sorry. So that makes it okay. He's sorry he hit you. He's sorry he abused you. He's sorry he didn't trust you and treated you like shit and hurt you. But he's sorry, so it's all okay. Are you fucking stupid? Do you want to be treated like that again, huh? Just don't give two shits about yourself, that it? You think that because your Dad left and your Mom expects a little too much and the one thing you're best at is fucking art that you're worthless? Because guess what? Just because you're parent situation isn't that great…"
"Shut the fuck up." She said in a deadly quiet voice. "I get that you're angry but you have crossed a line. Do not talk to me until I say I'm ready. Are we fucking clear?"
He looked away from her as she made to stand, swung hard, and put a hole in the wall beside them.
"Wait," he called out to her as she began to walk away from him, unable to leave things this way. Despite her best efforts, she turned to face him.
"I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get angry and I say things. You know that, already, of course. I didn't mean…I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I won't act like I didn't mean to because when I get like that…but I'm sorry, love. I'm so fucking sorry."
As she walked back and eased herself back into the booth, she tried to remind herself that'd she'd expected this reaction. She knew he was going to say nasty things. Nevertheless, she hadn't been ready for them. She breathed deeply. "You don't speak to me that way. Ever again. You best remember this, Jonathan Cristopher, because I'm saying it once. You will never, ever, ever say things with the intention to hurt me. Otherwise you're as bad as Sebastian ever was and I'll break up with you, too. You got that?"
"Hi!" Said the waitress, breaking the tension. "I'm Kaelie and I'm your server. Sorry it took so long. Are we ready to order?"
Clary made the peace offering, ordering his usual.
He smiled, ordering Coconut Pancakes in turn.
