I am SO sorry that it took so long to get this out, and I'm sorry if it sucks and kinds seems like a filler. It's meant to convey that weird everything's-normal-but-it's-not feeling. So, here goes. *Deep breath*

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter: Belle

Belle groaned softly when Will left. I can't believe he almost told Jem what I did! I can't believe Magnus told him! I should kill them both. She ran her hands through her hair.

"Belle, what was that about?" Jem asked warily, his face a mask of pure confusion. "What did he mean, 'thank you'? What did you do for him?"

Saved your life. "I have no idea. I think he's drunk; he said something last night about needing a drink." She tried to make her face the picture of innocence, but realized it looked unnatural. She was never innocent.

"He must have had a lot to drink to still be drunk at this time of day," Jem chuckled, obviously believing the story. That made Belle feel worse, having him believe her lies because he loved and trusted her.

"Well, you know Will. Completely unpredictable. So, er, where were we before he barged in?"

If Jem noticed the abrupt change in subject, he said nothing. "I think," he murmured, shooting covert glances down at her slightly parted lips, "that we were…"

Belle pressed her mouth to his again, kissing him gently. "We were here, I believe."

"Well, I was going to say 'we were about to go downstairs for a cup of tea', but I think I like your idea better."

"I like my idea better, too. In fact, I've got a better one." She slid her hands under his shirt and stroked the skin of his chest, pressing her lips to the side of his throat, the hard ridge of his collarbone, and back to his mouth. He groaned very softly, which only spurred her on, prompting her to pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside.

He returned the favor, his fingers teasing the hem of her dark sweater, and after that neither quite knew how their clothes vanished so quickly. One minute his shirt was off, and then most of his clothes; one second she was fully dressed, the next, she was practically nude.

"Come on, Jem," she demanded, pushing him to lie on his back on the bed as she crawled over him. "You still sure about this?"

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes half-closed and his lips swollen. "Surely you're joking. Just… get it over with already, why don't you?"

"Get it over with?" Belle stood and planted her hands on her hips. "I am not going to 'get it over with' if you say that. I will make it long, drawn-out, and torturous."

"Please don't," he begged. "I'm serious. I don't mean that it's something unpleasant that needs to be dealt with quickly. I just mean that…" He burned with a blush. "I can't hold out much longer," he whispered finally.

She giggled. "Oh, Jem, this is why I love you. You're so innocent."

"Not for much longer," he argued.

"True," she agreed, crawling back over him and kissing him quickly, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down. She did him a favor and removed the rest of her clothes herself– she saw that his hands were shaking– and kissed him one last time. "Ready, love?"

"Sure. I always thought my first time would be a bit more romantic than this, but I'm still with you, which has to count for something. Right?"

"When you reach my advanced age, James," Belle began loftily, "you will realize than the when, where, why, and even how become meaningless. It's the who that matters. You're lucky to have me, which is all it comes down to at the end of the day."

"It's not even the end of the day. It's noon. And you're younger than me."

"So literal."

"Oh, right, I guess I should agree that I'm lucky to have you and wish that you feel similarly about me. That's all." He waved his hand. "Proceed."

"I do love you, Jem."

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at her, his eyes soft. "And I love you." Not ten seconds later, with sunlight streaming through the windows and Will in the room next door, the two of them joined as one for the first time.

Chapter: Will

When Will managed to contain himself, he got up and opened a window. Breathing in the metallic London air made him feel so much better. A pop and crackle from behind him made him jump, and when he whirled around, he saw a piece of paper flutter to the ground, still smoking slightly– a fire message from Magnus. He scanned it quickly, a crease between his eyebrows deepening with every word.

He hated it. He hated being reminded of what Belle was doing, what she had sold herself for. It would be worth it, of course, in the long run; he would never love anyone as much as he loved Jem, but that didn't make the pain go away. He was so dramatic, he thought to himself, such a terribly dark sort of romantic. He was Nephilim– everything was life or death to him.

Though all he wanted was to listen to Jem playing sad, haunting music on the violin, Will knew he had plans to make. He would do as Magnus suggested for tomorrow night, because by the time the real occasion came around… Belle's eighteenth birthday would be a week from tomorrow, but by then she wouldn't be–

"Stop it," he scolded himself aloud. "It will do you no good to dwell on such things. Stop playing the wounded one and go do something nice for her." He wondered where she was; would Jem know? Probably.

As was his custom, he walked in without knocking, only to find Jem asleep. With Will's luck, of course, he wasn't alone. Rather, Belle was curled up at his side, also asleep, and it was fairly obvious what had just gone down between them. Way to give me a heads up, he thought angrily, storming out of the room and trying to pretend that he wasn't sad and jealous instead of angry. He pondered whether either of them would think to tell him later; Belle, probably not, but surely Jem would… After all, he, Will, came home and informed Jem at once the first time he laid with a girl, when they were fifteen.

How pathetic he was. He wanted to drink, and drink, and drink, the kind of drunk when he forgot his own name, let alone remembered that he was in love with his best friend's girlfriend.

"I should be happy for Jem," Will muttered as he paced the hallway. "I should be happy that he's in love, and might get the chance to have a proper family –" That thought stopped dead; Belle was not going to be the one Jem started a family with.

He felt more pathetic and lonely. Maybe he should get that drink, find a pretty girl, take her upstairs, and pretend for just a little while that he could love her. Pretend that he hadn't a care in the world. Pretend that she was Belle… Which is the most pathetic thing of all.

Chapter: Jem

Jem woke up countless hours later to a slender pair of arms clenched tightly around his midsection and a tumble of dark curls flipped over his shoulder. Amused and satisfied, he tried not to move, but Belle stirred not long after. It was like they had some sort of connection, waking at the same time. He wondered if she thought of him as often as he thought of her.

"Morning, love," he said softly, just in case she wasn't really awake.

"Mm, g'morning, James," she yawned. "So?"

"So what?"

"So, feel any different?"

He thought carefully. Did he? He felt happy, very happy, and content. He was more in love than he thought he could be. "I suppose, but not particularly. I just feel… connected to you. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do," she confirmed. "Look, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower. I feel sweaty and still gross from being in the rain."

"When were you in the rain?" he asked with a faint air of suspicion. Had it been last night? Must've been. She hadn't said anything, just that she wanted to be with him instead of alone. Why was she out in the rain so late at night?

"Last night," she said slowly, almost guiltily. He felt bad for not trusting her, but he wished she had said something. "I went out to see Magnus, because I needed a walk and he was the only one I knew would be up so late, and I got caught in the rain on my way back."

He nodded. "Just don't get sick, eh? I couldn't bear it if something happened to you." She had gotten out of bed, and for a moment her face screwed up into something like physical pain.

"I'd be more worried about something happening to you," she said quietly, her face smoothing out again. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

"More like I'd do anything for you."

Her lower lip trembled. "I can't lose you, Jem. I want you to know that I would do anything to save you."

Where had this come from? Was she worried because he was ill the night before? "That's not necessary," he said in a would-be light tone. "There's no cure, you know, and I'd hate for you to waste time looking."

She swallowed hard, nodded, and still looked as though she was going to cry. "I'm going to save you," she whispered, before disappearing into the bathroom. Moments later the water started running.

Jem sat up, puzzled. What had gotten into her? Going out at all hours of the night, returning soaking wet, crawling into bed with him still dressed, and managing to convince him to lose his virtue. Not that he had needed much persuading… Perhaps it was all because of the night before. Perhaps she really did worry. She seemed so tough and capable that he had to make himself remember that she was human, too– well, almost. She was delicate under her armor.

Which was exactly what worried him about her… And exactly why he loved her.

I beg you to tell me if it sucks.