Here's a new update...filler chapter...more to come like within the next week..school starts on Tuesday though...bummmmerrrrrrr :( oh well...that gives me more time to daydream about my stories :) hehe anyways...a grand thanks to my amazing new beta Mads-hatter-15 (She has cute Malec stories...check them out =D) anddddddddd I tried to make it cute and light and funny because the next chapters are where it all falls down :P Soooo...enjoy!

Clary's face was nuzzled snugly into the crook of Jace's arm when she woke. Warmth flooded from her fingers to her toes as she remembered everything that had happened last night. The silly talks, the heated kisses, the lingering touches—every small sensation invaded her memory and filled her with a soaring joy that made her want to spring up from the mattress and bounce off the walls.

She pulled herself closer to Jace's body, drawing the comforter up higher around her shoulders and allowing her eyes to flutter shut. She just wanted to stay in this peaceful moment forever. The serenity of being tucked into Jace's side comforted her, made her forget everything that had ever hurt her. His reassuring breaths beside her made her feel safe, only reminded her of all that was good in the world.

Sunlight flooded in through the parted curtains, and Clary squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to have to wake up yet. She hoped that Jace was still asleep so she could just lie beside him and pretend that everything was okay. Her life was slowly unraveling, but maybe Jace would be the one to sew the pieces back together. She had to admit that she didn't mind the thought of that. The image of Jace's shirtless, golden body stretched out beside her for the rest of her life was actually an appealing thought.

Then a feral noise ripped through the room. She curiously eyed the room. Everything was perfectly in order, except for two discarded t-shirts that lay in wrinkled heaps near the door. She drummed her fingers against her stomach as she glanced at the closed closet, the dust free dresser, and the locked door. What could have made that sound?

Another growl-like racket echoed off the walls. There was a rumbling sensation against Clary's chest, and her eyes tipped up to connect with Jace's face. His blonde tresses were tangled from sleep, his features smooth and peaceful. Peaceful wasn't ever a word Clary thought she would associate with Jace Herondale. She took in his chiseled face, his sculpted chest, his inky tattoo, and his ragged scars. She tentatively reached out a finger and ran it down the length of his chest, watching his arms curl around her automatically and pull her tight against his warm body. She craned her neck to return her gaze to his face. His long, dark eyelashes grazed his cheekbones and his mouth was parted, the humorous snoring escaping his perfect lips. His perfectly pink lips were parted, and the sound fell from between them.

Did this kid wake himself up snoring? The loud sound reverberated off the walls and echoed endlessly around the empty room. Clary was going insane trying to hold in her laughter. She didn't think Jace would be pleased if he woke up to her uncontrollably rolling with laughter at the way he slept. Who would have thought that perfect Jace Herondale would snore? Clary surely hadn't heard him snoring when they were in the bed at the hospital together. Her eyebrows pulled together. Had he slept even when he was with her?

Another chainsaw-like noise tore from Jace's chest, and Clary decided she needed to end this before she exploded with sniggers. She leaned in so her nose was barely touching his and paused. Was she allowed to do this? She felt Jace's grip around her tighten, and her worries dispersed as she gently pressed her lips against his. She smiled when she felt Jace respond immediately, his lips moving in synchronization. She found herself on her back as Jace rolled her over and hovered above her, his weight balanced on his forearms, never once breaking the kiss.

Clary tangled her fingers into his messy bed head and wriggled herself closer, feeling his fingers tugging absently at a curl. She felt every curve of him against her and released one of her hands to run it down his defined arms, taking his raised hand in hers and knotting their fingers together. She felt Jace smile against her lips. "I wouldn't mind waking up like this more often," he murmured. Clary felt his lips form every word against her own and shivered. Jace noticed this and smirked as he leaned down and stole another sweet kiss.

He flopped down onto the bed beside Clary and cast a sidelong glance in her direction. Just then, Clary's control cracked and she busted a gut, her hands reaching down to clutch her stomach as she rolled around on the bed, tears forming in her eyes. "What?" Jace asked, poking her gently in the ribs. Clary settled down momentarily, but looking back up at Jace just made her laugh more. "What's so funny?!" Jace asked again, exasperated. She pointed at him with her index finger and nearly fell off the bed. "Me?" he asked, gesturing to himself with his thumbs. Clary, meanwhile, was doing that strange, hiccupping thing that happened when you laughed to hard and couldn't breathe. Jace rolled his eyes and stuffed his face under a pillow.

"Nooooo, Jace…come backkkkk," Clary cooed, pulling against his hand, trying to get him to reveal his face. Sometime during the night he'd changed into gray pajama pants, but he'd otherwise remained shirtless, much to Clary's pleasure. "Jace…" she pouted when he easily countered her tugging. Finally, with a little more pulling, Jace shoved the pillow aside and pulled Clary quickly, but gently against him, his lips positioned at her ear.

"Care to let me in on your little joke?" Clary bit her lip, her shoulders heaving up and down as she struggled to contain herself. Jace noticed this and chuckled against her neck, the vibrations making Clary's skin tingle.

"You…you…you steal blankets!" she finally got out with a few giggles in between. She threw her head back and laughed again, even harder. "And you snore!" Jace flipped her over and started tickling her stomach, making her yelp and attempt to block his nimble fingers.

"And you don't?" he countered, incessantly stroking his fingers across the bare skin just below her ribs. "You sound like a banshee! It can't even be considered snoring when it's more of a wailing noise!" Clary could see that he was amused as she thrashed around beneath his fingertips, completely at his mercy.

"Well you—" she laughed, breathing heavily, "you sound…like a…like a…like a motorcycle. It woke me up!" She continued to fall at the hands of Jace, squealing in delight.

"Oh yeah? Well your howling wouldn't allow me to fall asleep." Clary futilely pushed against his bare chest, but instead found her hands roaming the expanse of his golden skin, smirking upward at him.

"Maybe you didn't necessarily want to go to bed, what with me innocently snuggled up to your side, shirtless and all." Clary cocked an eyebrow in his direction, challenging him to tell her that her theory was incorrect. Jace's fingers froze as he sat up and got off the bed.

"Alright, we need to get out of here. You are obviously spending too much time with me and my awesomeness because that is something I would have said. I can't have someone that's almost as cool as me." He jerked his head in the direction of the door as Clary scrabbled around to find her t-shirt.

"Why, Jace Herondale, I believe that was a complement." She heard him chuckle, shaking his head as she strode out of his bedroom with him hot on her heels.

She trotted down to the kitchen and plopped down on a barstool, swiping an apple from the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. There was a crisp, crunching noise as she bit through the skin, and the sweet juices flooded into her mouth. "So what's on the agenda for today?" Jace asked, pulling whatever random junk he could find in the fridge out. Clary rolled her eyes at the wide array of useless food positioned before him.

"I don't know. Maybe Isabelle wants to hang out or something." Jace grumbled something around a mouthful of cold mu shu pork. It sounded a lot like the sound a clogged vacuum cleaner made. Clary swallowed another piece of her apple and waited for Jace to quit chewing his odd breakfast choice. "Mu shu pork?" she commented when he was done, and he nodded excitedly, popping some more into his mouth. "I don't know why everybody seems to think you're so perfect. You are by far the strangest man I've ever met."

"I heard: you're so perfect. Sexiest man I've ever met."

"Jace, I didn't even say sexy in the sentence."

"It was implied." Clary held back her smile by sinking her teeth into the apple again, not stopping to say anything to Jace until she'd eaten it down to the core. When she finally set it down, a drop of sticky liquid dribbled down her chin, and before she could use her hand to swat it away, Jace gingerly reached over and removed it with his thumb.

Clary stood there for a moment, awestruck. Maybe Jace Herondale really did have feelings for her. Maybe this wasn't just a use-each-other-to-feel-better relationship. "Clary. Clary?" Jace was saying, waving his hand in front of her eyes. Clary blinked.

"Hmmm?" she inquired, looking up at him. He had another stupid smirk on his face. "Sorry, I zonked out." Jace bit his lip in a way that said whatever, liar, but didn't press any further. He instead threw away the apple core and leaned on the counter, his palms on either side of Clary's elbows.

"I said, 'What are you going to do until Izzy is back from school and volleyball?'" Clary straightened up immediately, cursing under her breath. Jace tsked. "Clary, such crude language for such a young girl." Clary shot a glare at him.

"Shut up. You like it." Her mind was elsewhere as she noticed him smile. She was too hung up on the fact that she'd forgotten about volleyball. They had games next week, and she needed to get her practices in. Maybe if she just headed to the gym for a little extra work, the coach would count it as a practice and allow her to play next week in the games. She shoved her chair back from the counter with a scraping noise and started out of the kitchen, en route to her nearly abandoned bedroom.

"Where are you going, Testarossa?" She heard him following her down the hallway as she shoved through the door and started throwing random volleyball essentials into her athletic bag. Without answering him, she threw it over her shoulder and turned to go. She tugged her hair up into a ponytail while trying to duck beside Jace. He wouldn't move and blocked the entire doorway.

"To practice volleyball. We have games next week!" Jace shook his head.

"Clary, you just got released from the hospital yesterday. You are not in the condition to play." She rolled her eyes. Who was he to judge? He went to a hospital with open wounds yet wouldn't even see a doctor.

"Yeah, and who's girlfriend pushed me in front of a car?" Jace looked a bit stung at that comment, so Clary quickly backtracked, "I mean ex-girlfriend."

"Yeah, otherwise that would have meant that you threw yourself in front of a car, and that is not in any way logical. Besides, I probably wouldn't even be interested in a girl that could qualify for a room in an insane asylum—"

Clary's eyes widened. "Jace, did you just unintentionally call me your girlfriend?" she interrupted.

"—I mean, a crazy, possibly murderous lunatic might be a fun person to hang around—I'm not judging—but that's just not really my thing." He finally stopped listening to himself speak long enough to realize that Clary had said something. "Hmm?" Clary shook her head.

"Never mind." She pressed her chin to her chest to hide the disappointed look on her face and the flush in her cheeks as she again aimed to scoot around him. Jace pressed a hand against her shoulder and held her back, eyeing her carefully. When she didn't look up, he took her chin between his thumb and index finger and raised her gaze to meet his steady golden one.

"What did you ask? Don't be shy, Testarossa. That's not how you were last night." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Clary smacked his cheek lightly. "Owww," he complained, rubbing the spot with mock-hurt.

"I asked if you just called me your girlfriend," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it pretty much was. Jace looked upward thoughtfully, as if thinking back to what he'd just said. Clary sighed and brushed by him, stalking down the hallway. She heard his rushed footsteps follow her down the hall.

"Yes, Clary!" he called after her retreating form. "Yes! I called you my girlfriend!" Clary stopped and whirled around, placing her hand on her hip. Her fiery red curls fanned around her like a wild flower, since they'd failed to be contained by the skimpy, breakable elastic.

"What makes you think I want to be your girlfriend?" She narrowed her eyes at the golden creature ten steps behind her. He looked like a lost puppy with his hands in the air.

"Doesn't everybody?" he asked, his arrogant smirk replacing the sad look from before. Clary huffed and continued down toward the door. That was not the answer she wanted. She stormed into the elevator and repeatedly hit the ground floor button, glaring at Jace as he stepped in with her. "Clary, that's not what I meant to say. I don't have a censor." Clary continued to glower, pushing the button harder until the doors screamed closed. Jace cursed and brushed her fingers aside, slamming the emergency stop button. An alarm began to blare in the closed space, and strobe lights flashed like a dance floor.

"Jace!" Clary yelled, manically pressing keys on the elevator wall. "Now the police are going to show up." Jace dismissed her fear with a wave of his hand.

"I clipped that wire years ago, when I first moved in here." Clary's eyebrows shot up.

"And what did you do in a stopped elevator, Jace?" He cleared his throat awkwardly, and Clary crinkled her nose. "Jace! That's disgusting!" She made a show of wiping her hands across his chest and muttering ew over and over again.

"Clary. Clary!" Jace grabbed her wrists, stilling her frenzied swiping. Clary noticed a drop of blood where her nails had dug in slightly.

"What, Jace?" she asked, frustrated. She settled herself and wrenched her hands from the confines of his fingers.

He thrust his hands into his hair. "I…I really want you to be my girlfriend." He said, and Clary nodded, but remained silent, prompting him to continue. "Would you…?" His question dropped off, and Clary crossed her arms defiantly.

"Would I what, Jace?" He squeezed his eyes shut, as if asking this simple question was putting him through some kind of physical pain.

"Would you be my girlfriend?" Clary laughed at his look. His face was contorted, and he was visibly trembling. Was that what happened when Jace Herondale got nervous? "Yes, Jace. I will be your girlfriend." There was a loud sigh that filled the silence that followed, and slowly, Jace opened one eye at a time, his taut muscles relaxing as his signature smirk adorned his lips.

"See? I told you everybody wanted to be my girlfriend."

X.O.X.O.X

Clary ducked back into the Institute as Jace's restored Charger raced off into the distance. She felt and odd pang of loneliness as she wandered through the vast halls of her college home, pushing through random doors and exploring the great amount of space that the Institute offered. She slowly paced through the library, fingers brushing along the battered spines of old books that looked as if by merely opening them, they could fall to dust. She pressed keys on the piano in the room where Jace had comforted her yesterday. She tumbled around on the mats in a room that looked like it was used for fighting training. She sorted and organized her closet, attempting to make her room just as clean as Jace's.

There was nothing she could do to push away the feeling of isolation that enveloped her as the blond angel drove into the horizon. Nobody was around. Alec was most likely with Magnus, unaware of Clary alone at the Institute. Jace was on the field, practicing plays and spirals with the rest of his team. Clary was probably just a teeny thought in the back of his mind right now, and Isabelle was still in her fashion classes and then would have volleyball practice at five.

She glowered at her closed door. When there was nothing to distract her, all she could think about was the flurry of lies she'd been bombarded with the past few days. The seemed to hang above her like a thick raincloud, just waiting for her lowest point and then opening up and drenching her in factuality. Did the Lightwoods know that Sebastian was related to them? Did they know of Clay's past? She shook her head and shoved a pillow over her head, trying to shield her thoughts from the bad. It wasn't working as a brilliant image flashed in her mind.

"Luke," Jocelyn said, watching a small Clary toddle around the customers of the bookstore, delivering small dandelions to each one, grinning excitedly as the adults graciously accepted her gifts. The air was hot and acrid probably from a midsummer heat wave that crashed over the United States, not that young Clary had known that at the time. "Luke!" Jocelyn repeated, her voice becoming frantic, a subtle amount of fear lacing her words. Clary's head snapped in the direction of her mother as her chubby legs struggled to reach her.

Suddenly, her father, or rather, her adoptive father, appeared at the older redhead's side. Clary tugged impatiently at her curly ponytails as they whispered back and forth, hushed words that Clary's small ears could not pick up. Why weren't they paying attention to her? What was more important than their daughter? Clary's four-year-old green eyes shifted to where her parents were staring. The man in the corner had white-blond hair. It was ruffled, but not shiny with sweat like most of the other customers. He was tall and muscular, his features precise, symmetrical, and his eyes were downcast, not giving Clary a good view of their color.

"What should we do?" she heard Jocelyn say, and she turned her gaze back to her frazzled mother. She was dressed in old, jean overalls, coated with the red color of clay and thick splatters of paint. Her hair was gathered in a messy bun at the top of her head, held together by two, crossed pencils. Clary smiled at her mom, her cheeks pulling apart to reveal her recently completed set of teeth. Her mother didn't notice her, just kept her eyes trained on the man innocently flipping through Luke's classics collection. Clary huffed exasperatedly, stomping over to the man with an innocent grin on her face. "Clary!" Jocelyn squeaked, but she was already too far away to be caught.

She reached the man and smiled sweetly, picking the biggest, prettiest dandelion from her bouquet and extending it toward him. As the man looked up, she was met with muddy brown eyes. They weren't the normal, wholesome brown eyes. They had an undertone of darkness, like the brown was artificial, like he was wearing colored contact lenses. He offered her a small smile and a wink before taking the flower from her grasp and tucking it behind his ear. Clary giggled and dashed back over to her parents, who embraced her tightly, the old fear seeming to have evaporated in a matter of moments. "It's not him," he heard Luke's deep voice tell Jocelyn, "he had brown eyes."

So her mother had shown fear of her father. Clary just hadn't remembered what she acted like when she did. Her eyebrows furrowed together. What did she have to go by? She now knew that her father had very, very light blond hair. That he was somewhat stocky, and that his eyes were not brown. Were they blue? Were they green like Clary's? Basically, she had nothing but another memory returned to the surface. Other than that, she was no closer to solving the mystery of herself. God, who was she? Nancy- freaking- Drew?

Clary sighed audibly, flopping backward onto her bed. She missed volleyball practice. She was starting to have withdrawals. Her head didn't hurt so much today, and her broken toes barely felt tweaked. At least, that was what she was telling herself as she tugged on the thin fabric of her spandex and cut-off t-shirt. She shoved her feet into rubber flip flops and tossed her shoes and kneepads into her bag, hitching it up on her shoulder as she walked out into the corridor, her shoes snapping loudly into the silence.

Interestingly enough, about two and a half hours had passed since Jace had left. She picked up her pace, hoping to be gone before Jace arrived, knowing full well that if anyone saw her, they wouldn't allow her to go to practice, probably playing the you-just-got-out-of-the-hospital card. Whatever. Clary didn't care. She needed to feel the rush of leaping into the air and swinging her arm down against the hard surface of the ball, the thundering sound echoing around the gym as the ball slammed down on the other side of the net, leaving the other players awestruck in its wake.

She needed normalcy, something that wasn't new to her, something that was one-hundred percent real. Volleyball was that something. She'd played it for as long as she could remember, loving the adrenalin rush evoked by the feeling of receiving the serve perfectly, by running through the steps of the approach, by teammates claiming that white girl could in fact jump. Barely anything ever changed. Sure, she had new teammates. Sure, there were variables in the game, but her position was constant, the rules were the same and had to be followed to a T. You wore the same gear, cheered the same cheer. She reached the elevator and frantically began pushing the button, eyes flitting about the room for anyone to try to stop her.

The elevator dinged as it arrived, the doors sliding open with a slight whine. Clary slinked inside, pushing the button that brought her to ground level. Her feet tapped impatiently against the ugly carpet as she awaited her stop. She slipped the ponytail from around her wrist and piled her fiery curls in a messy bun on the top of her head. The elevator jerked to a standstill, and Clary watched the main level of the Institute appear before her.

She yelped as a set of golden eyes appeared before her. "Whatcha doing, Testarossa?" Clary glowered. There went her fantastic plan to distract herself from all the confusion in her life. Jace flinched backward and raised his hands in a sign of innocence. "Whoa, pardon me for my curiousness."

Clary stepped through the threshold and continued out the door of the Institute. "Nothing, Jace. I just need to get some fresh air." She could tell that he was still hovering behind her as she made her way down the sidewalk.

"Really? Because you just dropped a kneepad." She turned around and snatched the offending object from his hand. "Clary, come on." He slipped the bag from over her shoulder and put it on his, taking her hand and leading her to his Charger. He opened the door and ushered her inside before shutting it. After putting her bag in the back, he slid into the driver's side, throwing the car into reverse and then tearing out of the driveway.

Before Clary could even get a word out, Jace's eyes were on her. "Clary, we need to talk. You need to know about my past."

Okay :) how did you like it...Touch the review button if you are breathe regularly :)

~All My Love

BallinBlonde21