It stunk like iron and garbage and cat piss in the alley. Cat piss was always underlying the smells in these cramped, dark areas between buildings. She didn't think she would throw up again, but the stench was something else. She felt hollowed out, wobbly, and drunk despite her painful sobriety. If she was drunk, she'd have a wonderful excuse for throwing up on the floor. If she was drunk, she would be able to write off the last two minutes as drunken confusion. Suddenly, the bass of distant music began to thump out of The Steele, which must have meant that the fight was over, and things were going back to normal inside the club.

Jesus, she thought, what was that? The unsettling image of Jace's arms strained, one holding the guy below him, the other cocked back, ready to punch, came to her mind. Clary hated confrontation. Once, there had been a fight between two boys at her school, in the middle of class. It was brutish and ugly, and someone got a bloody nose. They 'd knocked the desks and chairs over in the loud, quick struggle, while the teacher pried them apart. Clary had been so shocked by the violence that she cried. And then another time, Sarah Alderman tied her hair to the monkey bars and she couldn't pull Sarah's hair back, she just got red-cheeked and embarrassed, and quiet when everyone laughed.

She wanted to cry now; there was a distinct prickling feeling at the back of her eyes. Pressing them into the heels of her hands, she leaned against the brick wall. Back here, all was quiet except the hissing sound of steam pouring out of the building's vents. It looked like a film-noir movie. She could feel the pulse of the bar, the drums hitting heavy. It didn't sound like Jace's band anymore.

It occurred to her that she should get the hell out of here. Her logical mind was shouting at her to leave, to forget Jace because he was obviously crazy, and he liked to fight, drink, get tattoos, and he wanted to have sex with her this morning under her bed. The heavy implication that Jace was used to playing around with girls still made her heart ache. That guy with the blue eyes had just looked at her like she was nothing, and God, she'd nearly thrown up on him at the thought.

Maybe you are just nothing to him.

She sobbed once because she was confused, and Jace beating down that guy was ricocheting inside her skull. She didn't know that Jace could or would fight like that. She cried a little more, upset for making a fool out of herself in front of Jace's friends. She sobbed again because she was sick and tired. Clary was in no state for this. Her mother was right.

She convinced herself to leave this place well enough, but her body wouldn't do it. She couldn't peel herself from the wall. Just then, the door banged open, starting her so much that she did tear herself from the wall in surprise.

"Clary?" she heard. She was still behind the door, hidden from him. She could start running in the opposite direction and she might have if he hadn't stepped out of the bar completely and let the door swing shut behind him. "Clary," he said as he noticed her.

"I-" she began, but she let the word hang in the air. She had absolutely no idea what to say to him. It was too dark to see his knuckles, but she guessed they were red and torn. There was a red bloodstain on his threadbare t-shirt.

"Magnus said you were sick," he said to fill silence. There was something in his voice. Clary pegged it as shame after a moment. She stared at him, unable to bring any words to the surface of her mind. She was underwater with all her thoughts like pressure against her ears, and trying to study his face, and trying to figure him the fuck out. It got unbearable, and finally Clary said,

"I'm going home."

She turned and was going to slip in between the dumpsters, but he grabbed her wrist before she could take a step.

"Look," he began. "I don't know what-"

"You don't know what happened? You looked like you knew what was happening." She couldn't help it- the confusion was turning into anger. She wondered where the drunk guy was. Being dragged home, bloody and knocked out, by his friends?

"I fucked up, alright? That guy was ruining it and-"

"I think the show would have gone on if the lead guitarist hadn't jumped off the stage," she said, pulling her wrist out his hand.

She took a few steps away, but of course he followed.

"Please, just don't-" he broke off. He was getting flustered and there wasn't even a glimmer of the cocky musician she knew (barely). "I shouldn't have done that, I really fucking shouldn't have done that. I don't even know why I did, Clary. I didn't even think-"

She spun around and her stomach started to turn. She might throw up again.

"I don't understand you!" she yelled at him. She had never yelled at anyone before, save her mother. Jace's eyes widened as her voice went up. "We hardly know each other. I don't know you at all."

"You could," he said, low. "If you stay."

This threw her off. She glared at him, wanting very much to be just like her mother, who would retort with something finite and glamorous, and she would toss her hair behind her shoulder, leaving him in the alley. She was not her mother, though,. She was just Clary, who was standing here, yelling at Jace for being such so enigmatic when she was hiding everything from him. He was so pleading at the moment and guilt had grown like a vine, wrapping itself around her insides, but it still did nothing to cure her. She still just wanted to know more. She wanted a clear picture of him, and right now, all her pictures of him were all muddled and blurry.

Her hand went to the hickey on her neck. Ten minutes ago, she'd been proud of it, and now she felt like it was a damning thing.

"The guy in there," she pointed to the door. "The tall one at the bar- he called me your plaything."

Jace took a long, steadying breath in through his nose before saying very slowly,

"Alec…likes to think that he knows what he's talking about."

"Who is he?" she asked immediately.

"My brother." His answer was just as immediate. They didn't look a thing alike, which was probably connected to the fact that he was a foster kid. She wanted to ask him about his family. Instead she asked,

"Is what he said true? Is that what I am? A new toy?"

"No-"

"Because now I'm thinking that you only came to my room last night for that." She remembered his hands on her hips, his eyes nearly topaz in the dark.

"Would you believe me if I said I've never spent the night with a girl before?" he asked. Her heart started to thunder. Surely he wasn't a virgin.

"You mean you've never stayed the whole night," she guessed. It seemed like he was the type to crawl into your bedroom at night, then leave before the sun comes up. What if she had woken up this morning and he wasn't there? But he was there, she thought.

"Never just sleeping. I wouldn't normally do that."

She kept quiet, her mind racing to think of questions to ask him. She took a tentative step forward, and so did Jace. With him much closer, she could see the Goosebumps raised on his arms. He really did need to start wearing a coat. She could smell sweat and sweetness on him, too. She hoped she didn't smell like vomit.

"So you screw around a lot," she said, phrasing it like a question. He swallowed hard, only missing a few beats.

"Yes." There was still shame in his voice and Clary didn't know how it made her feel.

"And you fight a lot."

"I…" he began. "I guess old habits die hard."

She put her hand on his arm, braving his eyes with hers.

"What does that mean?" she whispered. He closed his eyes when she asked this, like he knew she was going to. She thought he was probably remembering something. It took a moment, but he finally opened his eyes and looked at her again.

"I've lived in a lot of places and they weren't all nice." He said it with a surprising sturdiness.

"I figured that."

"The fucked-up foster kid story is kind of clichéd, don't you think?" he said, and she raised her eyebrows at the question. "You think I'm putting on an act to get in your pants."

She put her other hand on his other arm, so she was sort of holding him, but at arm's length.

"I don't think it's an act."

"How can you be so sure?"

She saw that he was testing her, trying to see how far he could push her trust. Putting ideas in her head that maybe he was pulling an act, that he was just great at manipulation and she was falling for his tricks because she was young, and stupid, and inexperienced. She could imagine sleeping with him tonight and then him being gone the next day. She moved in closer to him, tucking her fortunately short head under his chin, hugging him a little for warmth, a little for comfort.

"I know all about acts. I don't think you're a liar." She was a liar. She was a liar. She was a liar.

He hugged her back. He was cold.

"In any case," he said. "I'm sorry you saw that."

She relaxed a little with him. Her stomach muscles unclenched considerably.

"I don't like fighting," she said. She didn't tell him that she disliked it because she was a weakling. She couldn't pull Sarah Alderman's hair. She couldn't stay not sick. She was powerless with mostly everything. She didn't like fighting and she couldn't fight, and she couldn't walk away from Jace, she might not ever be able to. The grey and black cold alley was Technicolor with her red hair and his blonde hair.

"Well…" he began, and she felt his jaw rest against her head. "It can go and you can stay."

She swore that his arms went tighter around her. She said,

"Alright."

She didn't know what she was agreeing to. She'd stay tonight? She'd stay the next day, and the next?

The door behind them opened, the music following whoever out with them and filling the alley with sound. She turned out of Jace's arms and saw Magnus in the doorway.

"Isn't this sweet? You get to make out in the alley and I had to haul your victims out before they trashed the bar. They fucked up…my hair." He narrowed his eyes to slits and glared at Jace in half-seriousness.

"I'll do the dishes," said Jace.

At this, Magnus's face dropped back into an instantaneous warm smile. "Deal. Now come inside before you die of hypothermia. And honey, you might want a mint…or a seltzer…or something," he said, looking at Clary. Jace sniggered behind her and blood rushed up to her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Magnus, I-" she started, but he scoffed and waved his hand like he was brushing away a fly.

"Oh, please, you're not the first to toss their cookies on the bar and you certainly won't be the last."

Magnus turned with that comment and held the door for them. Clary and Jace followed him inside, where it was alarmingly more warm and loud as soon as they entered. The door to the alley closed, sealing them in. Some drunk people were bent over in the hallway, and they all had to sidestep them in order to get back to the bar. On stage, another band was playing something loud and fast. The whole room was jumping again, but Clary just tried to tune it out and keep her focus on maintaining her cool long enough to get through the night. She already threw up in front of them, so she figured she could only go up from here.

While Magnus stepped back behind the bar, Jace pulled up and sat on the barstool. Not the barstool she threw up on. Clary stayed leaning against the bar as Magnus got to mixing drinks, apathetic. She put her chin in her hand, turning her head to look at Jace. Jace smiled and copied her movement, pulling a mock-serious face, an adorable grimace, making fun of her nuance. She swatted his arm and he laughed, but it was too loud to hear the sound.

Clary gratefully found the few package mints that Magnus had conspicuously left on the bar and popped them into her mouth. Behind her, someone shouted,

"You owe me a shot, Wayland."

It was the supermodel from Jace's band, with long black hair. It swung behind her as she slid over to them. She tapped the bar to get Magnus's attention as Jace shouted back,

"I will not be an accomplice to your tequila binge. Remember what happened last time?"

"Come on, it was one park ranger."

"And I'm sure he still has the scars."

Clary didn't have the slightest clue what they were talking about, and Jace seemed to notice that she was lost. He leaned close, next to Clary's ear and told her that this girl was named Izzy. The girl just seemed to realize Clary was there, which wasn't that unbelievable. Clary still thought herself to be rather forgettable, especially next to this Izzy. She felt like she was staring at a Greek statue.

"You sounded great…up there." Complimenting seemed to be her default when it came to band members.

"We did, didn't we?" she said, dreamily. Then she gave Jace a pointed look. "While it lasted."

Izzy leaned over the bar while Jace rolled his eyes, but they came and rested on Clary and she could see the regret in them. Magnus came back over with a shot of a golden colored alcohol.

"You get one, Isabelle," he said, sticking the shot in front. She tossed it back sans lime wedge or salt. With a pinched face, she slammed the glass back down and looked to Magnus.

"I'm your boyfriend's only sister, Magnus, I thought that bought me perks?" She batted her eyelashes toward him. Clary thought she must be talking about Alec, the blue-eyed guy, and she realized that they looked very alike, with the same dark hair and superiority.

"She's your sister?" Clary asked Jace while Izzy prodded Magnus for another shot.

He nodded , leaned in close again. She loved the feeling of his breath tickling her neck when he spoke.

"I've lived with them for awhile. The longest." Did he mean the longest out of all his foster homes?

"I don't have any brothers or sisters," Clary said. It made her feel better to tell him something about herself, something completely true.

"They're a pain in the ass."

As if on cue, Alec emerged out of the room behind the bar again. He eyed Isabelle, Jace, and Clary with his cold stare. His eyes fell especially on Clary. He said,

"I think you might have had enough."

"I'm not- I'm not drinking," she said, a little defensively.

"Maybe she couldn't handle the smell of that cologne," Jace said, his voice thick with annoyance. She rubbed her brow, a little humiliated as Magnus spun around, waving the knife he used for cutting limes.

"Excuse me, I bought him that cologne for his birthday, and it's Armani, and it smells like heaven."

Alec's cheeks went red and he scoffed, turning his back to them so that he and Magnus could talk.

"I feel like," Izzy said in between hiccups. Somehow, she'd gotten Magnus to line three shots up for her. "I've missed something." Leaning forward, she looked over to Clary. "Who are you?"

"I'm Clary," she said. She was feeling kind of shy, kind of intimidated.

"She's responsible for most of the graffiti in the district," said Jace, with a note of pride in his voice that made Clary blush.

For the next little while, Clary listened to Isabelle and Jace bicker about whether they were going to do a Spice Girls cover at the next gig, which Isabelle was adamant about. This piqued Clary's interest, if only because she was the ultimate, and most dedicated Spice Girls fan as a child. Jace shook his head, and to her surprise, pulled Clary from around the torso so that she was sitting lightly against his lap. Her stomach fluttered when his arms crossed over her torso. It felt like he was holding everything in place.

"We will do a Spice Girls cover over my dead body."

"Then, roll over Jace, cause it's happening," Izzy replied.

"You know," Clary began. "A heavy cover of Stop Right Now might not be that bad."

Isabelle clapped her hands and pointed at Clary.

"Yes, that's exactly what I thought." She finished her third shot and blew Magnus a sloppy kiss. Magnus shot her the finger. Isabelle, Clary realized, was kind of like the pulse of the little group. She was always going. She came over to the other side of them, facing Clary and Jace.

"I like her," she sad, slurring. "Why didn't you introduce us sooner? I never get to meet your girlfriends."

At the word girlfriend, Clary felt her heart rate increase, but Jace's arms around her middle didn't move or twitch. She wondered how long you had to be kissing someone in order for them to be your girlfriend. She wished she could see his face right now, but she just tried to relax against him, feeling him breathe against her, trying to show him that the word didn't scare her.

"You're always too busy with your boyfriends, Izz," he said. Isabelle snorted and laughed, tossing her long hair back. An angry pang of longing went through Clary. She'd kill for that long hair.

"You're right, ha!" She threw her hands up in careless sort of gesture. "And speaking of boyfriends, where is Nicky?"

After that, Isabelle disappeared into the crowd to find Nicky and left them not drinking at the bar. She noticed that Magnus and Alec had already slinked off the hallway near the back exit, and Clary caught a brief glimpse of the kind of neck-ravishing that had caused those hickeys on Magnus's neck. She turned her head so that she was facing Jace. With her own neck bare, he noticed the hickey and touched it. His knuckles were sill red and angry from the hitting, so she closed her eyes.

She was surprised to feel his lips close around the spot on her neck. He moved them against her skin, down to her collar and back up to her jaw line. On her neck, he kissed and kissed, and bit gently, probably giving her another hickey. She didn't care. The lights were low, there was music, and she was sitting, wrapped up in Jace, in public.

He kissed her all the way to her ear, and tucked the hair behind it. She shivered, pressing her head against his, then sharply turning her neck to face him, so she could look at him, and let him kiss her again. He kissed her breathless, his grip around her middle tight like a corset.

He murmured something against her neck, something like,

"What are you doing to me?"

Clary felt her blood course, her nerves jump, her muscles tense. Nothing or no one had ever had this kind of effect on her. So she leaned her head back so that it was resting on his shoulder and she said,

"I could ask you the same thing."