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di-daynamic · 2 years ago

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@flufftober Day 11: Poetry, Art, Music, Craft

Jace wasn’t sure how it had started.

Maybe it had started the day he played Simon the song he’d composed for Clary to ask if he thought she’d like it.

Maybe it had started when the fifteen-year-old redhead stubbornly stood her ground in the Pandemonium and made him curious and half already head-over-heels.

Maybe it had even started the day Valentine had begun to teach him the piano.

He wasn’t sure how any of it happened, but he was definitely happy with the results.

Simon knew perfectly well when it started: two days before Clary and Jace’s one-month anniversary. He wasn’t perfectly sure if they were celebrating their relationship or their father’s death or their winning the war but he decided not to ask.

“Where do you think we should go?” Clary asked, looking anxious, swinging her legs, sitting on the table.

Simon didn’t answer for a moment, too occupied with considering when his mother would get home. It had been another wonderful day of throwing his mother’s food away and hiding the fact that he was now a vampire. He was just thankful that drinking Jace’s blood had made him able to withstand the sun again, because dealing with that would have been impossible much longer.

“Si,” Clary said impatiently.

“Sorry,” Simon blinked. “Right. You think he’s ever seen a movie?”

His best friend nodded. “He’s seen a couple,” She made a face. “He’s obsessed with The Birds. Maybe I should just show him another to get him off that.”

“That’s just bad taste,” Simon smirked. “Think he shows that in other areas too?”

Clary seized a cushion from the couch next to her and lazily tossed it at him. In past times, he would have dodged it. This time, her shadowhunter aim struck true despite his vampire reflexes.

“Take him to dinner,” Simon said, laughing. “Candlelit and everything. Maybe one of those places you like to sketch the sunset.”

“Planning on it,” Clary said, smiling brightly too. Her red hair fell into her eyes. Simon valiantly tried to ignore the urge to push it out of them – like he’d tried to ignore all signs of his continuing feelings. “What else, though?”

“The arcade.” Simon decided. “He’d love the fighting and racing games.” Simon had to grin imagining the look on Jace’s face at seeing Dance Dance Revolution. The piano was one thing, that was entirely another.

Clary brightened up. “That’s a great idea! Thanks, Simon.” She checked her phone. “I have a while before I have to get back to the Institute. Want to go check the new comics in the store out?”

Simon shrugged. “Sure. Should be fun.” He and Clary always had fun though, whatever they did, so it didn’t really matter.

He was thinking about Jace. How he’d turned into someone he admired from the ‘fake blond’ he’d hated with a passion. Enough to approve Clary’s relationship with him even with a broken heart. He couldn’t believe he knew Jace well enough to give his girlfriend ideas for a date. And that he liked thinking of him on the Dance Dance Revolution machine, all sweaty and grinning with that lazy arrogance he always had.

Clary’d had ideas of what her life was going to be since her childhood.

She was going to backpack around Europe with Simon. She was going to study Art, hopefully in NYU or Columbia. Maybe she’d specialize in art therapy eventually, or architecture or design. That part hadn’t been too clear. Simon would take a nice safe major for his mother, while focusing on his music. They’d live together.

And eventually, she’d meet someone who made her heart race. Who was handsome and charming and appreciative and loving. And she’d get a job and maybe a pet and maybe kids later in life.

That had all been for later though.

And she’d never thought about what would happen with Simon then.

Simon had been a constant for more than a decade in her life. She couldn’t imagine it without him. He was part of who she was.

But Clary had never imagined that he would find someone when she’d find a boy. She’d never taken him for granted in the usual way – she’d always treasured his friendship – but she realized she had taken his presence in her life for granted; never once imagined that in her future he might not be there.

She remembered how jealous she’d been of Izzy when they’d first met – la belle Isabelle with her grace and beauty and deadly smile and whip, with whom Simon had been smitten instantly.

She’d always imagined that the one she loved would come into her life and change it forever – that romance would come into one’s life with pomp and blare, clear and instant.

And it had. She loved Jace. Jace was everything she’d imagined – beautifully handsome, appreciative of her and her art, broody but kind, a knight in shining armour. He was also everything she’d never thought she could love with such a fierce intensity – snark, trauma, an overprotectiveness that extended to making decisions for her. Being her father’s adopted son.

But love had also somehow managed to creep up on her, silent and invisible, unfolding from her friendship like it had always been inevitable. Simon was an open-book, lighthearted, clumsy even as a vampire. Nothing like her childhood dreams of romance. And yet, loving him was childhood innocence. Easy as breathing. It came naturally.

Two boys, nearly nothing alike, and they both had an unimaginable hold of her heart.

Jace had never thought he’d ever feel romantic love.

He’d thanked the Angel everyday for Alec and Isabelle and Max. Robert and Maryse too, but his siblings had always been more family to him than them. He knew they were fond of him, but to them he was their ward. To his siblings, he was family. A Lightwood through and through.

For him, they were enough. Of course they were.

And then he’d met Clary.

She was … everything. She was the whole world, his whole world. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d fallen in love with her. She was always unexpected. He had no idea what she was going to do or when. He’d had no idea he was going to kiss her until he did. He hadn’t known she would come for him at Renwick’s until she did. He hadn’t thought in his wildest dreams that she would slap him for putting her life at risk rather than throwing herself at him for saving her.

Romantic love wasn’t something that he could shrug off, apparently. Even when he knew she was his sister, even when he knew it was wrong, even when she’d been dating someone else, loving Clary wasn’t a switch in him that could be turned off.

He had never felt as much jealousy as when he’d seen Simon kiss Clary’s wrist in Magnus’ house. He’d burned with it, the rage and sadness enough to power several cities.

He still wasn’t sure when Simon had turned from the annoying mundane tag along to someone he valued.

It had become clear, eventually, that without Simon there was no Clary. If Clary was the world, Simon was the axis that kept it spinning and stable. The evenness to her temper, the caution to her impulse, the light-heartedness to her angst, the carefreeness to her troubledness.

He’d nearly given his life for the vampire, back on the ship. I would have let you, he’d said in response to Simon’s horror at his capability of draining Jace’s blood. The first time saving him, at the Dumort – that had been entirely for Clary, because he didn’t want to see the panic in her eyes any longer.

The second time … despite his jealousy, despite Simon being a downworlder – it had not been for her. At least, Clary hadn’t been the only reason.

And it had been enough to at least somewhat trust him. We have Clary in common, he’d said. We both care for her. She’s important to both of us.

Jace wasn’t sure what exactly to make of that.

Nevertheless, the vampire was his best source as to whether Clary would like the song. So off he went.

“You’ve composed a song for Clary,” Simon said, staring at Jace. “And you want me to say if she’ll like it.”

“If you’re done rehashing what we’ve already established, vampire. . .” The Shadowhunter drawled.

Simon held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. There’s a piano in the other room. We can use it.”

“Why exactly do you have a piano?” Jace asked curiously, watching Simon through narrow gold eyes from his seat on the piano. His eyes are so. . . otherworldly, Simon thought, unwillingly enraptured. He shook it off.

Simon had to smile at the memory of the story. “Clary and I were ten, my sister Rebecca was twelve and she’d decided she was going to be in the school orchestra. And Luke said he had a piano in his house, so she decided she was going to learn to play it. But then Clary said—”

“Alright, alright,” Jace rolled his eyes. He looked, oddly pensive and for a moment, almost jealous. But what would he have to be jealous of? He was the one dating the love of Simon’s life. “By the Angel, you’re a more long-winded storyteller than Isabelle.” He stretched his hands out and considered them, before laying them on the piano and beginning to play.

Simon had no idea how to describe what followed. He knew Jace was talented. Jace was good at pretty much everything he did. But he hadn’t expected the music Jace played to resonate with him so deeply. He could see Clary as Jace saw her: the red hair, the gleam of mischief, the temper, the courage.

Simon’s guitar was lying next to the piano from the last time he and Rebecca had played together for one of their family gatherings (Mom, Luke, Jocelyn, Clary, and Aunt Betty). Simon hardly knew when he picked it up and began to flow with the song.

The melody dragged him into a high – into a trance he couldn’t escape. He didn’t need to know the technicalities of it, he could just play. It was like the times Clary got inspiration for her drawings; she literally couldn’t stop drawing or explain where all that was coming from.

The last notes faded away and the spell was broken. Simon and Jace stared at each other.

“You. . . You understood—” Jace cleared his throat and stopped, like that would prevent Simon from understanding what he was saying. The way they had synchronized, the way he had understood what Jace was playing and been able to reproduce it on the guitar. . .

They understood one another’s music.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Jace asked finally.

Simon wasn’t sure who the sudden roaring jealousy he felt was for. He wasn’t sure of anything. “I’m sure she’ll love it,” he said in a brittle voice.

Clary spent a lot of time sketching Jace.

She could never quite perfectly capture him, though she never stopped trying. She supposed it was the same with all artists regarding people they loved: their essence was always frustratingly missing from the art.

Her pencil made an unintentional skid across Jace’s wing. Irritated, she sighed.

“Clary?”

“Jace!” All her attention was instantly on her boyfriend, who was leaning against the doorway. She set aside the sketchbook and bounced up to him. “What are you doing here?”

Jace took her hands and pressed kisses to them, avoiding the obvious charcoal spotted places, giving her shivers. “Watching my beautiful artistic girlfriend create marvels?”

Clary smiled. “You can be here for that too, but I really don’t think that was your main intention in coming.”

Jace shrugged, looking uncomfortable. It sometimes still blew her away how he trusted her enough to be vulnerable around her, when sometimes he couldn’t be around Alec and Izzy, who were dearest in the world to him, his parabatai and sister. “I wanted to see you,” He whispered. “You’re always, well – when I see you, I always feel more … grounded.”

Clary knew what he meant. It was the way she always felt when she saw Simon. She didn’t think he’d take well to that comparison though.

“Did something remind you of … the War?” She asked gently. They’d talked about it, but it was still a landmine of a topic around everyone. Clary personally thought the lot of them needed therapy.

Jace laughed wryly. “Not that. This time at least.” He kissed her before she could question him further.

Even recognizing the deflection technique, she kissed him back, winding her hands in his hair the way she always liked to. Sparks flew between them, as they always did. Jace never handled her delicately, never seemed to think she wasn’t strong despite his smothering overprotectiveness. He tasted of danger, of fireworks, and yet of the coolness of mystery and night.

So different from Simon, who felt like childhood, like lemonade, the sweet aftertaste that lingered and made you happy. Who held her like she was delicate china.

Jace lifted her up and Clary hooked her legs around his hip. “Don’t think,” She gasped. “That you’re going to escape my other questions—oh, again!”

Jace smirked and his teeth scraped against the same spot on her neck. His hands moved from her waist to her cheek and the bed, and her sketchbook was knocked off it.

Its pages turned as it landed on the floor, ending on a sketch of Simon, smiling gently with flyaway hair in the moonlight, the Mark of Cain vivid. There was an eerie stillness and yet soft bright light to it that seemed to capture him exactly, making her fond of it, much more than all the ones she’d made of him over the years while learning how to draw.

Jace picked it up, face emotionless, and considered it.

“Jace—” Her mouth fell shut. She didn’t know what to say.

“You love him,” He said.

There were any number of things she could have said: I love you. He’s my best friend. I didn’t even know, until recently.

All of them were true, but they would’ve also been cop outs and if there was one thing that she wasn’t, it was a coward.

“Yes.”

Jace looked thoughtful. “And … You love me too?”

Clary exhaled softly, and caught his hand in hers. “You know I do.”

His face softened. “Yeah. I do.” He sat on the bed, pulling her down next to him. “What are we doing, Clary?”

Clary felt panic stir in her. He wasn’t breaking up with her. Was he?

“We’re in a relationship,” she said with forced calm. “And you’ve just found out that I am also in love with my best friend.”

“Unconventional,” Jace quirked a grin. “But then again, our relationship always has been like that.” The relief she felt caused the melting of tension she didn’t even know existed. If he was joking, things were fine. “Can’t even fault your taste,” He said sadly, shaking his head.

Clary had to suppress a grin at the similarity to the conversation she’d had with Simon only a day back. “Aren’t you the one who always called him a rat faced bastard?”

“He did go and get himself turned into one.” Jace muttered defensively. “But no, there’s something about him. . . He isn’t half bad-looking.”

Coming from Jace, this was a bald statement of attraction. That made her consider him more carefully. Jace, who had once thought Simon was the worst and most inconvenient person to grace the earth. Jace, who had his face carefully neutral and playful, his hands clenched and the strange tenor of his voice when he was speaking of emotions but was trying not to be emotional.

“You’re in love with him too.” Clary realized as she said it.

Jace exhaled, and his hand trembled. Clary squeezed it reassuringly. I’m here, it said. You’re not alone. If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t, but emotions won’t kill you.

“Love is rather an exaggeration, I think,” he said at last. “But there may be more to my feelings for him than I thought.”

Clary stared at him. “I can’t believe you even admitted that much.”

That startled a laugh from him. “Isabelle couldn’t, either.” He said. He was smiling the way he always did when he spoke of his brother and sister. “But Alec said. Well. He said that his relationship with Magnus had only come about when he went to thank him for saving him, and thereby, ‘talking and admitting feelings’.” Jace wrinkled his nose as he always did at those things. Clary felt her heart swell in fondness.

“Well,” She said. “That is definitely more emotion than I expected from Alec.”

Jace snorted. “Yeah, the hard-as-stone thing is a whole façade. He’s a total softie.” There was a pause. He sighed. “I’m going to have to do this whole thing again with Simon, right?”

At this, Clary giggled. “Afraid so.”

“Damn it.”

“You’re inviting me to your one-month anniversary dinner?” Simon stared at his best friend. She always had barmy ideas, but this was ridiculous even for her. Then something occurred to him. “Does Jace know?”

“Of course he does,” Clary said, sounding offended.

“Right. . . .” Simon trailed off, wondering why.

“He wants you to bring your guitar,” the redhead added.

At this, resentment built up in him. So Jace thought he could just get him to play the song without even asking in person? A confession of love that wasn’t his to the girl Jace knew he loved? He ignored that the hurt stemmed from the fact that he’d thought playing Jace’s composition together was theirs and theirs alone, that their duet had been private, a secret treasure for his heart.

Well. Clearly not.

What had he even expected from Jace?

Clary obviously saw that he was going to refuse. “Please, Si,” she said, her green eyes wide. It was the same expression she got every time she wanted to do something recklessly stupid, Simon refused to get involved, right before he’d do it anyway and both of them got grounded by their moms. It was completely unfair because Clary knew the effect that expression had on him. His firm wall began to crumble rapidly.

“Fine,” Simon sighed.

Clary smiled brightly. “Great!” She peered closely at him. When he raised an inquiring eyebrow, she gave a very Not-Clary awkward laugh. She hesitated. “What do you think of Jace?”

Simon stared at her. “Are you seriously asking for my approval of your boyfriend a month after beginning to date him?” His not-beating-anymore heart began to pound. If anyone could figure out how he was feeling, Clary could. She knew him best, even though she had a total obliviousness to any feelings directed her way. And he really didn’t want to have a ‘yes, I fancy your boyfriend, except maybe not really, except I definitely do because I think he’s stupidly attractive and snark and courage humanized and an incredible musician with whom I’ve played a duet like never before’ conversation with her.

“Yes, I am.”

“Well. . .” Simon swallowed. “Jace is. . . .” Play it cool, he told himself. “Alright.” That came out way too stiffly.

Except Clary didn’t seem to think so. She studied him for a moment and then went back to smiling brightly, kissing his cheek and heading out of the house.

Simon wasn’t sure if the ‘I have a crush’ lightheadedness he was going through was because of Clary or Jace.

“I thought you were going to a mundane restaurant?” Simon asked, frowning.

“We were,” Clary said. “But we couldn’t exactly take you somewhere they wouldn’t serve you blood.” She was leaning into Jace.

They’d turned into a couple that used ‘we’ for everything, Simon thought bitterly, trying to hide his surprise at how they’d changed their plans for him.

Dinner went easily, much to Simon’s amazement. He’d expected having dinner with the best friend he had been in love with for years and her boyfriend for whom Simon had also developed feelings for would’ve been awkward, but this was natural. And it gave him way too much hope, ganging up on Clary with Jace, laughing at Jace’s stories of his and his siblings’ antics, nodding in commiseration at the way Jace’s face fell when he mentioned Max and Clary kissed his cheek in comfort.

They were a good couple, he noted with a sad-proud feeling. He was happy Clary had found someone who loved her so much, someone who was so amazing even he’d begun to … Well.

Jace kissed the remaining strawberry chocolate off Clary’s mouth. Simon’s throat closed up. He was torn between continuing watching and feeding some fantasies and jerking away because this was his best friend dammit! Clary pulled away and cleared her throat. She exchanged an indecipherable look with Jace.

That made him anxious. He could always read Clary.

Clary pulled out two papers, and Simon recognized them as coming from the sketchbook Luke had gifted her for her fifteenth birthday. She pushed one towards Jace. “This is for you,” she said nervously, twisting her hair with her fingers the way she always did when she was tense. “I know it’s not much, but considering—”

“Clary,” Jace said with a sharp inhale. He looked like he was about to cry and Simon felt uncomfortable at witnessing such an intimate moment. He wondered why Clary’d asked him to come. “It’s beautiful.” He said, sounding awed. “You- I look – well. Thank you.”

Simon caught a glimpse of it. It was a sketch of Jace, sitting, leaning back, looking remarkably pleased with himself and yet softly happy. The way he crossed his arms, the way his chipped tooth made his smile imperfect, the way his eyebrows relaxed, the light reflected from his golden wolf eyes. . . . Every detail revealed how much Clary had poured herself into this piece.

Every stroke was an ode to how much she loved him.

Simon couldn’t breathe through his longing and jealousy for a few moments – it was pretty good he didn’t actually need to do it anymore. He ignored them kissing.

“And Simon,” Clary said, holding out the other rolled up sheet. Her eyes were bright. With trepidation, with hope. “This is for you.”

Finally feeling like they’d come to the point of why they’d asked him to come there, Simon’s hand trembled a bit, feeling the same emotions Clary displayed so openly. He took it and rolled it out.

He stared at the drawing, wondering, hopeful, fragile enough that a breeze could knock him over. Time stopped, and the world paused.

It was Simon. Simon with his hands stretched out, smiling half-seriously half-playfully in the moonlight, the Mark of Cain very visible.

Clary poured her emotions into all her work – he’d seen breathtaking emotion-wringing portraits of hers of sceneries, their mothers, Rebecca, the Lightwoods.

This – this was different.

This was like Jace’s. From which anyone could tell that each stroke was an expression of love, that the artist loved the subject beyond all measure – the eros type of love.

“What is this?” His voice was tight.

“Simon,” Clary’s voice was trembling. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Simon had wanted to hear these words for years. He dropped the paper, but Jace’s reflexes were fast enough for him to catch it before it fell into the remains of his blood waffles.

“What?”

“Would you like some poetry to make things clear?” Jace asked, leaning back casually, like hearing his girlfriend confess her love for someone else was an everyday thing. His eyes pierced him, and the message was clear: Say you love her back, because I know you do. If you break her heart now, I will stake you through the heart.

Not that Simon needed that, thank you very much.

“I – I love you too, Clary, Of course I do.” He spoke. Clary smiled up at him with tremulous hope. “But why are you--? What are we going to--?” He stumbled over his questions.

“That depends on what your answer is to this,” she nudged her boyfriend.

Jace sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with you, vampire.” He drawled.

Simon was not prepared for this. He pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Jace!” Clary chided.

Jace gave her a petulant look. She nodded her head fiercely in Simon’s direction. He interrupted. “You – like me?”

Jace stared at him, clearly recognizing the wishes and dreams and hopes he had put into that one question. “Yes,” he said softly. “I can’t say I love you – but. When we played the – at your house,” he glanced at Clary, who apparently didn’t know about that. “You understood me. You understood my … music. And even before that. You refused to lie about my family to leave the prison. You stayed with Clary despite everything. Even your goddamn pop culture references.” His whole face softened. “And Clary loves you.” It closed. “What about you?”

“And Clary loves you.” Simon agreed, his mind whirling. That was the basis of everything: as Jace had put it a bit more than a month ago; Clary was what they had in common. They both cared for her. “You’ve saved my life. So many times. Despite my being a Downworlder or mundane. You understand my music, you keep up with me in every argument and fight we have. You never treated me differently after I was Turned. You kept me sane while I was in prison. And you’re quite possibly the most frustratingly handsome person I’ve ever met,” Simon rambled. “How could I not?”

Jace looked completely stunned. Then he blinked, and the usual knowing smirk spread across his face. “How could you not indeed.”

“So. . . So. . .” Simon ignored that. “If we all love each other, then. . .?”

“Simon Lewis,” Clary said, exchanging a look with Jace. “How would you like to join our relationship and try being with us?” Jace looked at him in supposed boredom, but Simon knew him well enough to recognize the barely concealed hope.

“I. . .” Simon pinched himself again. “Definitely.”

“Really?” Clary asked, voice trembling, her eyes bright with tears.

Simon laughed hoarsely. “Clary, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I’ve known what romantic love is. I love you. Of course I’ll jump at the chance.” Like I did before, went unsaid. He’d gotten a bit too emotional at the end, but Clary was worth it.

She leaned in and kissed him – and Simon couldn’t help feeling that this was so much better than their previous ones. Clary let out a sigh and her breath was warm and she was so beautiful and tasted like heat and strawberry and chocolate and felt like home. She was incredible, and kissing her was all he could focus on.

Then she dropped back, and even before he could complain of the sudden loss, Jace had swept in. Jace kissed like he did everything else – intensely and fiercely. If Clary had been the steady love and home, Jace was the windstorm that swept everything away in its wake, yet so awe-inspiring to behold. Kissing him was an exhilarating fight, and their teeth clacked together. Their first kiss left him even more breathless than he usually was.

Simon watched Jace and Clary kiss too, and now – now watching it didn’t create any jealousy, just pure simple happiness and awe. Disbelief swirled in his head. The two people he loved – and now they were in a relationship. He felt Clary’s foot twine around his, in the way they had always done in boring functions since their childhood, and feeling bold, he reached over and took Jace’s hand.

Jace’s gaze snapped up to meet his, and then he smiled and winked. He held the cup of coffee Clary had been drinking from up, and when Clary reached up, he held it even higher.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Jace,” She said in a clipped tone that did nothing to bely her happiness. “Give it to me.”

“Why?” Jace asked, shrugging. “Not my fault you’re so short.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game there, Heronwood,” Simon said cheerfully to his new boyfriend.

“Heronwood?” Jace echoed, eyes as narrowed as Clary’s.

“Herondale plus Lightwood,” Clary nodded solemnly. “It’s a beautiful portmanteau.”

“And it suits you perfectly!” Simon laughed.

Jace gave a yelp as Clary elbowed his arm harshly and dragged her coffee cup away from him, all three of them laughing all the while.

Simon’s dead heart swelled as he looked at them – his gorgeous amazing girlfriend and boyfriend.

“I love you both,” he said recklessly.

Jace smiled suddenly, the sweet smile in Clary’s drawing, very unlike the sarcastic asshole grin he usually had. “We love you too.”

Jace could just imagine what his fa—Valentine would say.

His daughter, and a vampire.

But now, now after he was dead, after all the abuse was finally out in the open, he looked at his incredible partners who understood him and his music and his trauma so well and had now begun to argue about something something in a tv show and thought about his home and his adopted parents and the siblings who had stuck with him through thick and thin.

Every time Valentine had told him he was unworthy of love. Every time he’d broken a bone of his. The dead body of his beloved falcon. Valentine lecturing about how parabatai led to destruction. How love destroyed.

He was wrong. So, so wrong.

It all mattered, of course. Abuse couldn’t be resolved by a relationship.

But still. He was lucky. He was so glad he had made it here.

“We’ll need to talk about this,” he said. “How we’ll make a relationship like this work.”

“We do,” Simon agreed.

“But later,” Clary said. Playfulness danced in her eyes. “For now. . .” She kissed him again, and he closed his eyes and just ... enjoyed the feeling of Simon’s hands on him and Clary’s lips on his.

So very lucky indeed.

#flufftober #flufftober2022 #day 11 #the mortal instruments #tsc #cassandra clare #jace herondale #simon lewis #clary fairchild #climonace #clary fray/jace herondale/simon lewis #polyamory #getting together #established clace #mutual pining #post city of glass #canon divergence #fanfic #expression of love through music and art

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