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CHAPTER TWO:
Conversations on the Ceiling

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I was so glad to see you liked the story! I'm stuck between making it funny and making it deadly serious. So, for now, it's a little of both worlds. And I'll try not to kill anyone off. Lol. As for Clary's illness, it's something magical and occurred because of events in the actual books. Hint! I just can't say which book. More on it next chapter.

This chapter's song: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You by Muse. (Yes, I know there are other version. This is my favorite.)

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Clary opened up her suitcase – still unpacked even months after Idris – and pulled out every pair of jeans she owned, spreading them out on her bed. There were five, and she realized she had no idea which one Jace liked. To her, they all pretty much looked the same and she felt the same in them.

Had it been a joke or would he be disappointed if she wore the wrong one?

Screw it, she thought and put on the short little red dress she'd yet to wear. It was among the things Luke had bought her but since it had long, thick sleeves, she never thought to wear it in summer. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror by the window and sighed, wishing she could be like Isabelle who oozed sensuality out her eyeballs. She also wished she could fight demons in three-inch stripper heels but that was another issue entirely.

"Hey!" said Izzy, strolling into the room just then with a popsicle in hand. Clary jumped, holding her heart in her chest.

"Geez, Iz. You scared me."

She smiled, ignoring Clary's words entirely. Her eyes were fixed on the dress. She circled her, sucking on the popsicle like it was her last boyfriend. "You look tame," she finally announced.

Clary laughed and spun around before the mirror. "Perfect."

Izzy rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of the messy bed. "He thinks he's getting laid tonight… Don't worry. He didn't say anything. It was that mad glint in his eyes."

Clary felt the blood rush to her cheeks and pretended to be searching her vanity table for make-up so Izzy didn't have to see her face. She found a lipstick in a matching red and was about to apply it in the mirror when her hand started shaking violent. The lipstick fell but she didn't care. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. She'd yet to faint but knew it was only a matter of time. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough and she couldn't keep pretending forever.

Izzy hadn't noticed, as far as Clary could tell from her reflection in the mirror. "I'm not talking to you about my sex life, Isabelle. He's your brother for crying out loud!"

Izzy laughed and lied back on the bed, throwing the popsicle stick into the garbage can across the room. Her aim was impeccable and Clary wondered if she would have that sort of precision with more proper training from Jace.

"He talks to me about it," she offered with a casual shrug. "All the time. It's not that big of a deal to us. Remember, Shadowhunters don't live long so we like to get things over with."

Of course, Clary thought. He couldn't possibly be a virgin, not with those eyes and that hair and the charm that threatened and beckoned at the same time.

She decided that if she was going to keep Izzy out of the loop, she was going to have to indulge her own curiosity and ask, "What does he say?"

Isabelle shot up in bed and grinned mischievously. She crossed her legs and leaned forward as if settling in for a long conversation. Clary raised an eyebrow but allowed her to continue. "He has been waiting like a lovesick puppy for you to finally be in the mood. It's so cute! He's been planning it like crazy, of course. At least you can't complain that he does things halfway."

Clary's eyes widened and she reached for the chair by the vanity table on her right. "Go on."

Izzy squealed. "Well he's down to three plans. I only know of two. One was apparently going to be where you had your first kiss."

Clary smiled and faced the floor, remembering a picnic among the flowers. That would have been nice, to relive the romance they'd started before Valentine's name was ever uttered.

"But he decided against that," she continued. "Something about dogs with new tricks. The other isn't as romantic. It was a bubble bath, I think, though where he's going to find a tub big enough for both of you at the Institute is beyond me… You seen him naked yet?"

Clary stifled the urge to burst out laughing and shook her head. Two sex talks in one day. She was supposed to be avoiding sex! Nobody talks to her for two months and all of a sudden, she's the center of the Trojan universe?

"No, Iz. Well… No, Iz! I'm so not doing this!" she shouted, standing to search for her white slippers. "I am not discussing any part of Jace's anatomy with you!"

As soon as she looked up towards the door, a very stricken Jace was leaning against the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest. "Uh… it's six. You have dinner with certain parts of my anatomy."

She smirked back at him and gladly took his now outstretched hand. "Get me the hell out of here," she hissed, desperation in her voice. "They're trying to corrupt me!"

He laughed softly and led her out to the elevator. She noticed that he looked down the entire time, lost in some convoluted and no doubt perverted train of thought. They were silent again as the elevator slowly creaked down to the first floor. She took his distraction as a chance to admire him fully. He'd showered and his wet hair was sleeked back, probably with his fingers. He wore a V-neck sweater that matched his eyes and a nice pair of jeans.

She remembered suddenly his last request. "I'm sorry. I didn't know which pair of jeans you liked."

He shook his head and his eyes flew to her for a small moment, just long enough for him to genuinely say, "You look beautiful in anything."

He gave her hand a little squeeze between them but his smile was still a half-hearted gesture. "Is everything okay?"

"There's a café I discovered on the other side of town that I've been meaning to take you. Mind if we take the train?"

She shook her head and let him lead her silently down the street into the subway. It was relatively empty this time of day. She was surprised by how comfortable he'd gotten with public affection. After months of avoiding looks and touches, here he was with his arm around her waist as though he had arms solely for the reason of holding her steady and making her feel safe and loved. And though he did not speak and did not even realize he was being so romantic, she felt the need to cuddle closer to his chest and plant the slowest of kisses on his neck.

That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts and he looked down upon her with a more genuine smile and relit eyes. "Hey," she whispered gleefully. Though the train was noisy, she felt the need to whisper so he knew they were the only two people in the world. "You're back."

"Hey," he whispered back, pulling her even closer.

She rested a hand on his chest but found it too quick for someone standing so still. "Jace, what's going on?"

He gulped, surreptitiously but present nonetheless. "Maryse caught me on the way to my room. She just mentioned a few things."

"Like?"

He shook his head and tried to make her forget her train of thought with a carefully timed smirk. "It's not important. So you're going to love this café! I promise! It's an orgasm with four walls and a roof."

"I hope there's a floor," she joked.

"Nope," he said in all seriousness.

Her eyes widened. She was almost positive he wasn't joking. "I'm sorry… what was that?"

"There's no floor. People eat on the ceiling. Well, mundanes eat on the floor. We eat on the ceiling and watch them under a glamour."

Her mind whirled around with the possibilities. "How do we… get on the ceiling?"

He shrugged. "No clue. But you know I'm dying to find out."

She laughed nervously as the subway came to a slow stop, her eyes large and ablaze with curiosity. They walked down a row of brownstones, each as ordinary as the next, and stopped in front of one with curiously red bricks.

He waved his hand in front of her face as if wiping down a mirror and she got the hint that a glamour was in place. She closed her eyes and began stripping the layers in her mind. When she opened them again, she gasped. The brownstone was replaced by a tall cylindrical building, much like a castle tower, with a twirling black iron staircase on the side.

"Come on," he called, already halfway up the stairs. She ran to catch up, reaching for her hand to steady herself. The stairs looked like they might fall off the side of the building but she knew if she ran quickly enough, the unsteady rocking of the iron steps would stop soon enough. He was waiting for her on the last step, his hand extended to help her off.

He opened the red brick door and they walked inside casually. At first glance, there seemed to be a wooden floor as any other. She tripped over a beam and realized she was already on the roof. She looked up and found herself staring down at a half-empty café with white and red checkerboard tablecloths.

"Can they hear us?" she whispered but Jace just laughed and followed a waitress to the darkest corner of the roof. A table was waiting for them, reserved. She sat down before he could pull the chair out so he just sighed and gave up trying to be a gentleman. It was somewhat lost on her but she was smiling so he couldn't be too far off track.

They ordered the first pasta either saw and then the attention was back on the floor of the tower above. "Don't let me leave without ordering tea," he told her a few minutes after the waitress left. His head was tilted and he was focusing on a couple a few table across the ceiling who seemed to be permanently attached at the tongue.

"Hmm… Tea on the ceiling. Just don't suddenly burst into song."

"What are you going to do? Disown me?"

She laughed though it wasn't really funny to her. She was just happy that they could begin to joke about their previous circumstances. She was getting a little dizzy from looking up so she decided to look back down at her hands lying pale gray and limp on the table. She thought she was going to throw up.

Her unease didn't escape him. He'd chosen this little corner beforehand because he wanted it to be just them, two figures in the dark.

"What were you and Izzy talking about?" he asked sheepishly. It was strange seeing Jace uncertain about anything. It was like watching a lion ask permission before it ate someone.

"Sex," she answered bluntly, not in the mood to play coy. "She wanted to know about us."

He covered his eyes with his hand and groaned. Was he embarrassed? Openly?

"Did you tell her that we—"

"I told her the truth," she cut him off. She knew a joke was on the way, probably something perverted and tiresome and she wasn't in the mood. "She told me… well, she said you talked about it with her. A lot."

"Jealous?"

She shook her head. "I like that you have your family to talk to, Jace. I was just wondering why we never talked about it."

He scoffed. "What do you want to know?" he said.

She gulped and fumbled with her hands. The waitress set down their pasta dishes and hurried away, seeing their faces and deciding instantly she didn't want to linger. "How, uh, many have there been?"

"Clary, I'm 17, not Hugh Hefner."

"Jace, I saw you flirt with a girl with four rows of razor sharp teeth! Are you honestly telling me you don't think with your dick?"

He smiled but it was forced. "You don't care how many came before, Clare, because I don't either and you know it."

"Stop avoiding the question, Jace. You're right. I don't care how many came before. I just want to know that you can be honest with me and talk to me," she pleaded, leaning forward so she wouldn't have to raise her voice.

"Clary," he began, caressing her cheek so she knew his attention was fully on her. "I don't know what to do about us anymore."

Her eyes found his and a thousand insecurities popped up in her mind, clouding and overtaking her rational thoughts. Her heart was beating against her ribs, which didn't help her nausea.

When she said nothing, he continued, "I've never… I've never been in a relationship like this."

She relaxed a little. He was just being honest. He wasn't breaking up with her. Yet.

"You know that I've never been in love and I don't want to lose you but I have no idea what I'm doing here," he confessed, almost out of breath. He gripped her hand tighter so she knew he was serious and, what's more, seriously terrified. "I keep thinking that you're slipping away, a little bit more each day, and all I know to do is distance myself and give you your space. But I don't want that, Clary! I just want to be with you all the time."

He'd gotten a bit loud and a couple of fairies a few tables down hissed at him. Clary shot them an apologetic smile and turned back to Jace. She knew she had to speak soon but could think of nothing to reassure him. She could think of nothing to say and so, decided that she would kiss him instead the way people do in the movies when they're having a romantic argument and want to prove their love.

She leaned across the small table, cupped his face with her hands, and pressed their lips together if only to stall. Then, it turned into a desperate need in her chest for more. He opened his mouth and welcomed the kiss further. It was a momentary instinct but he quickly pushed away.

"That's not what I want, Clary!" he hissed, raking his hair back with his hands. "This isn't about sex."

The blood was rushing to her head and she realized that whether it be obvious or not, she was technically upside down. She took a slow look around and the room started to spin. Jace watched her cup her hand over her mouth as if preparing to barf. He threw down some money on the table and lifted her up by the waist, pulling her out the door. She barely made it outside but managed to throw up off the edge of the black staircase onto the alley below.

"NEVER bring me back there again," she growled, taking his hand to pull herself back up again. He rubbed her back soothingly and it seemed to help.

Another couple was laughing from below, passing them on the stairs. They took in her green expression and the fresh smell of vomit and grimaced. "Don't try the osso buco ravioli," warned Jace in jest. She had to stop at the base of the stairs to steady herself. She noticed Jace's hand was still on her waist, steadying her, and he had the most worried expression she'd ever seen. One would think that having a homicidal father after her would cause him more worry but no. Knife-wielding maniacs he could handle. A bad lunch was a bit harder to fight, especially for someone who didn't know the Mark for Pepto-Bismol.

They stopped at a bench near the bus stop and sat down. The sun was almost set and all the street lights had come on. "I'm sorry I ruined our dinner out," she groaned, resting her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, watching the trail of taxis and cars on their way home. "But if it means anything, I think we're going to be all right."

He looked down at her and smirked sadly. "How so?"

"Look at us, Jace," she said, her voice sweet as honey. "We take care of each other, not because we have to but because it's the only thing we know how to do."

He lowered his hand to her left shoulder and squeezed her closer. He was silent for some time, waiting for Clary's heart to slow down and her stomach to settle. "Two," he finally admitted. "There were two girls. Never meant a thing."

She smiled, despite the jealousy boiling in her veins. "Thank you for telling me."

"You? Don't tell me it was Simon."

She laughed, truly wholeheartedly for the first time all night. "Oh yes. He took me back to his dark lair, we watched Inuyasha, and he rocked my world all night long." She shook her head and honestly answered, "There was nobody before and there will be nobody after you, Jace."

That strangely made him feel better. "See? We can talk about sex. We can talk about anything."

She gulped because she knew that wasn't true. They couldn't talk about the real problems, about the things that tore them apart. After all they fought to finally be together, the sheer idea that something else might threaten all they've built – something so small yet so terrifying – was enough to make Clary throw up again. All over Jace's favorite pair of jeans.

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Good? Bad? Ha ha? So so? Give me your wisdom, oh mighty ficters! I'm also looking for a beta. I should really start reading over these chapters myself though. Yikes. I apologize in advance.

Reviews are better than those little caresses that make it all better.