#prompting maehem

[talesofmaehem]

#9 with Heronstairs? I feel like Will would definitely steal Jem's socks if he was given the chance!

It took a while for Jem to notice. After all, socks went missing all the time. They fell victim to Church, who loved to parade them proudly around the Institute before hoarding them away, or blew off the clothesline, or fell into that alternate time-space continuum where lost socks tend to end up. But it was usually singular socks, not pairs of them.

Jem surveyed the barren expanse of his sock drawer and decided that enough was enough. The cold floor bit into his bare feet as he made his way to Will’s room and pushed open the door. Will was lying on his rumpled bed and glanced up from the book he was reading as Jem walked in.

“Do you know what this is?” Jem asked without preamble.

Will looked from Jem’s face to his upheld hand and back again. “Socks?”

“My very last pair of socks,” Jem clarified. Will raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you William?”

“Well, I would assume you need to do laundry, but I can’t say I know anything for certain.”

“I can’t do laundry,” Jem explained, “because I have no socks left to wash.”

Will furrowed his brow in confusion.

“No socks left? What happened to them?” he asked, laying his book down open on his chest to give Jem his full attention.

“I suspect a thief,” Jem said with a pointed look at Will’s feet. They were crossed at the ankle and cozily wrapped in a pair of grey socks that resembled the ones Sophie had knit Jem for Christmas.

“A theif?” Will asked, surprised. 

That was the trouble with Will, he was such an experienced liar that it was nearly impossible to know when he was telling the truth. But Jem had had practice. He noticed how Will’s eyes were slightly too wide for true surprise and how he decidedly didn’t follow Jem’s gaze to his own feet. In fact, he sat up and leaned in towards Jem, as if in true concern, while cleverly tucking his feet beneath himself. This undoubtedly served two purposes: First, it brought the boys closer together, which Will knew would distract Jem, and second, it shifted Will’s socked feet out of sight. Despite seeing through both of these clever ploys, Jem remained entirely susceptible to the first.

As Will shifted closer, Jem caught the barest hint of Will’s pine soap smell. He wanted to bury his face in Will’s shirt and breathe the scent in until it was all that filled his lungs. He wanted to tangle his fingers in Will’s curls and trail them down his back until he wrung music from Will like his violin. But most importantly, he wanted to stick his frozen feet into Will’s warm side and let him thaw them out with his own body heat as punishment for his crime.

“Mmmmm indeed,” Jem murmured, eyes trailing to Will’s lips. They were bent into a gentle frown that made Jem want to smooth them out, preferably with his own mouth.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Will teased, knowing exactly what Jem was thinking of and resting his hands on Jem’s hips to pull him closer, “the thief must be apprehended.”

“Oh,” Jem said, a roguish grin twisting his own lips into a clever smile, “I think he will be.”

Will made a throaty sound of approval and Jem leaned down to kiss him. Will tilted his face up, grip tightening on Jem’s hips as he tugged him even closer, but Jem pulled away just a breath before their lips met.

“Don’t think I’m going to forget, William. The thief will pay.”

“I certainly hope so,” Will agreed, closing the distance between them and tumbling Jem on top of himself, eager to begin his reparations.

***

It took a while for Will to notice. After all, socks went missing all the time. They got separated in gear bags and darning baskets, disappeared into forgotten crevices behind the bed, or fell into that alternate time-space continuum where lost socks tend to end up. But it was usually singular socks, not pairs of them.

It wasn’t until he stumbled home from patrol one night with sopping wet shoes and frozen feet and found his sock drawer unmistakably empty that he realized what was happening.

He marched down to Jem’s room, half dressed and still soaking, and threw open the door. Jem turned at the sound from where he’d been sitting staring into the fire. Will took a moment to look him over. He’d been coming down with a fever when Will left, and despite his protests, Charlotte had insisted he stay in rather than accompany Will on patrol. His cheeks were a little flushed, his pupils slightly dilated, but other than this, Will assured himself, Jem was fine. Will felt a tightness in his chest loosen.

“Oh, you’ve started stealing my socks now?” Will accused, trying to channel his earlier irritation. Jem gave him a lopsided grin and made to stand up. He wavered and Will noticed how pale he was, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, and raced to steady him.

“James,” Will said concerned, “you’re burning up.”

“And you’re freezing,” Jem countered, gripping Will’s arm to steady himself.

“Yes, well,” Will huffed, leading them to the edge of Jem’s bed, “I was just mentioning how someone’s gone and stolen all my socks.”

Jem let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a cough. Will looked at him in alarm, but Jem waved him away. When he lifted his face again, there was no blood and Will felt his own shoulders relax. He shifted his hand to interlace their fingers and assure himself of the steady flutter of Jem’s pulse.

“You should rest,” Will said, leaning his shoulder into Jem, who returned the gesture.

Jem nodded, eyes closed, and Will took the opportunity to marvel at the delicate brush of Jem’s lashes over his sharp cheekbones. He was electrified by the sudden phenomenon of eye contact. Jem grinned at having caught Will staring, and Will blushed and glanced away.

Jem squeezed his hand; “I like how I feel when you look at me like that.”

Will glanced to him again and Jem gazed steadily back. Will swallowed thickly and raised their interlaced fingers to place a kiss to the back of Jem’s hand. Jem’s skin burned against his lips and Will shivered.

“Stay,” Jem requested.

Will nodded and allowed Jem to pull him beneath the covers. He shivered again and scooched in closer to Jem’s inferno. He tentatively placed a cool palm on Jem’s forehead and Jem sighed in relief and covered Will’s hand with his own, pressing it down harder. Will smiled and obligingly pressed his cool palm into Jem’s burning skin.

“William,” Jem murmured, his eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of Will’s wrist.

“Hmm?”

“Your feet are bloody freezing.”

Will paused and thought of another bed and freezing feet, then curled up his knees and pressed his feet vengefully into Jem’s warm side. Jem hissed at the shock and flipped them so Will’s back was pressed against his chest, freeing his vulnerable side from its icy attackers.

“That was completely uncalled for,” Jem complained into Will’s still-damp curls.

“That,” Will said with relish, “was justice.”

Will felt Jem’s soft laugh settle against his back and a warmth bloomed in his stomach that had nothing to do with Jem’s fever. He pressed himself further back, shamelessly nestling into Jem’s warmth, and Jem wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in further. Will felt Jem rest his burning forehead in the curve between his neck and shoulder and sigh as Will’s night-cooled skin chased the fever from his body. Will hummed in contentment and turned to place a gentle kiss to Jem’s forehead.

“Goodnight Jem,” he whispered, and was rewarded with the curve of Jem’s smile and a trail of soft kisses along his shoulder and throat.

“G’night Will.”

They fell asleep like that, curled around each other like a pair of socks tucked together in a drawer.

[talesofmaehem]

How about #24 for Heronstairs?

“Promise me Jem, swear by the angel.”

Jem gazed at him steadily, his dark eyes wide in his small face. A thin silver ring was just beginning to show around his pupils, the eclipsed echo of an ominous moon.

“I swear by the angel,” Jem said solemnly. “But promise me Will, if you lose, promise you won’t ask again.”

Will screwed up his mouth and Jem flattened his into a straight line.

“Swear it, William.”

Will scowled. “I swear by the angel.”

***

Will swung his longsword and Jem stumbled back. They were evenly matched, or they should have been. Jem retreated, barely lifting his own longsword in time to fend off Will’s next blows.

“You’ve been practicing,” Jem accused as he batted Will’s blade aside.

Will flashed his teeth in a sharp smile, “didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Jem huffed an indignant laugh and Will doubled his attack. They parried around the training room, both boys panting hard. Will swiped at Jem, whose foot caught on a mat as he retreated, making him stumble backwards. Will seized his opportunity, striking out at Jem’s teetering form. Jem crashed to the floor, barely managing to keep hold of his blade.

His eyes widened, “Wait, Will—”

Will met his eyes with a determined glare and lifted his sword.

“Will, we can’t undo this—”

Will brought his sword down and Jem raised his to meet it. He wouldn’t know how many hours Will had practiced the move until much later, but Will neatly slipped his sword beneath Jem’s and twisted it out of Jem’s grip.

“Will—” Jem tried again as he leaned back.

“You promised,” Will said, voice hard as he leveled his sword at Jem’s neck.

Jem sighed and allowed himself to collapse on the training room floor. For a moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing and then Jem started to laugh. He leaned back on his elbows to find Will smiling brilliantly down at him. Will swung his sword and casually rested it over his shoulder, offering his free hand down to Jem.

Jem smiled and clasped Will’s hand. “Well fought. Parabatai.”

Will’s hand tightened on his own.

***

Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee—for wither thou goest, I will go.

Jem stands amid twin rings of fire burning in the darkness. Opposite him is Will. His heart beats rapid fire in his chest. He can feel Will’s pulse thrumming in his veins. Could that be right? Will steps closer, hand outstretched. Jem takes it. He can’t recall if this is part of the ritual, though he’d been over the words, the movements thousands of times in his head. Will’s hand feels right in his own.

And where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

Will feels Jem’s pulse in his veins. Could that be right? Jem’s pupils are blown so wide the thin silver ring has been swallowed entirely. He removes his stele and Jem bares his shoulder to him. Will’s hand is steady and sure. The mark unfurls in stark promise on Jem’s skin. He feels a tentative coil wind around his heart and stretch out towards Jem, like a sense he’d always had and never realized, like stumbling around in the dark and realizing all he’d ever needed was to open his eyes.

Where thou diest, will I die and there will I be buried.

Jem feels the sharp burn of Will’s stele against his skin and his soul sings with the rightness of it. For once he can’t feel the poison in his veins, all he knows is Will, Will, Will. He’d protested when Will asked of course. The barest twinge of guilt that he’d been harboring disappears as his own mark unfurls boldly above Will’s heart. He’d protested this too. Wedding marks were placed above the heart, and although he’d argued with Will about what he may or may not want in the future, Will—his parabatai—had insisted. There is no bond more important to me than this. He hears the words in Will’s solemn voice, sees them echoed in his blue eyes reflecting the flames in the darkness. Will was always so sure. He feels some of that surety settle into his bones, steadying him. He savors the last line, feels it fall weighty and definitive from his tongue. He tightens his grip on Will’s hand and prays, when his time comes, that his parabatai will be able to bear it.

The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.

***

“That was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

The voice rings out along the stone hallways of the institute, carrying over the distant sound of voices cheerfully emanating from the ballroom. Will tenses and slowly turns to face the newcomer.

“What’s that?” Will asks, voice deadly calm.

“Chained yourself to a bloody invalid.”

In less than a heartbeat Will has Gabriel Lightwood pinned against the wall.

“Insult James again,” Will growls, “and I’ll cut your imbecilic tongue from your mouth and shove it down your sorry throat.”

Gabriel clenches his jaw, staring defiantly into Will’s eyes.

“Problem?” Jem asks genially as he makes his way down the hallway. He notices the way Will fists his hands tighter in Gabriel’s collar, as if daring the other boy to speak.

“Not at all,” Will drawls, “Lightworm was just proving a little hard of hearing. Wanted to make sure the message got through.”

Jem makes a thoughtful sound and waits.

“Will,” he prods when neither boy moves.

Will roughly shoves Gabriel into the wall before letting him go. Gabriel briskly brushes off his sleeves and shoots the boys a nasty look before sauntering down the hallway.

Jem and Will watch him go.

“He won’t be the only one,” Jem warns.

“Hmm?” Will asks, turning to face his parabatai.

“People won’t think highly of you for binding yourself to a dying boy.”

“You heard,” Will concludes, displeased.

“I did warn you.”

Will scoffs.

“You can’t fight every shadowhunter who thinks I’m a liability.”

“I can and I will,” Will argues petulantly. Jem begins to protest but Will cuts him off. “You are not a liability James. You are one of the best fighters I know—better than bloody Gabriel Lightworm—and even if you weren’t, being parabatai is about more than that.” He places his hand over his heart, right above the rune that still tingles with a phantom warmth. “You are the only person with whom I’ve ever felt I could say whatever was on my mind, or in my heart, no matter how ridiculous. The only person I know will listen. This isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, it’s the best. Becoming your parabatai is the one thing I am entirely sure of; I have no doubts or reservations, Jem.”

Jem stares at him, eyes wide.

“Will—”

Will looks steadily back at him.

Jem swallows. “There is no bond more important to me than this.”

Will grins at the sound of his own words shaped by Jem’s voice. “Promise?” He teases.

“Swear by the angel.”

[talesofmaehem]

#20 heronstairs! I feel like some really interesting things could come out of a truth or dare game

“Truth or dare?”

“No, William,” Jem said, fondly exasperated.

“That’s not an option.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare.”

“Why not?” Will demanded, spinning his knife idly.

“Because we’re out on patrol!”

Will gestured to the peaceful night around them: “Yes, we’re clearly very busy fending off the demonic forces of evil trying to consume the world.”

Jem shook his head, but he was smiling which was all the encouragement Will needed.

“Truth or dare.”

Jem cast his eyes skyward and let out a weighty sigh. Will waited, knowing he’d won.

“Truth,” Jem relented, eyes scanning the nearby park for any activity.

Will frowned, “Of course you’d choose the boring option.”

“It’s only boring,” Jem countered, “if you lack creativity.”

Will grinned wickedly, appreciating the challenge. He thought about it, discarding question after question, trying to settle on something fitting.

“I thought we were playing truth or dare,” Jem prompted eventually, not peeling his eyes away from where he was very vigilantly scanning the dark streets.

“I’m thinking!”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Will scowled at Jem good-naturedly. “Fine. If you could only use one rune for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Jem considered for a moment. “An amisso rune.”

Will looked at him quizzically.

“Slowing blood loss is a useful ability,” Jem defended, “especially when your parabatai tends to be rather reckless with the amount of blood they allow outside of their body.”

“You would choose your only rune to try and thwart my poor habits?” Will asked, mockingly placing his hand on his heart to hide how touched he truly was.

“Why not? You draw most of my runes for me, and if I can draw only one, I’d better do my best to keep you around.”

Will laughed and allowed that, since it wasn’t quite as altruistic as it first appeared, it was an entirely acceptable decision.

“Alright,” Jem said, sounding very put upon, “truth or dare?”

“Dare. Obviously.”

Jem thought a moment, trying to come up with something suitably punishing for William.

“I dare you to keep your mouth shut for a whole ten minutes,” Jem said, looking smug. Will opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Jem’s “ah-ah-ah, no speaking.” Will settled for a glare instead. He wasn’t convinced that the dare was truly in keeping with the spirit of the game, but he wasn’t about to lose on account of semantics.  

A flicker at the corner of Will’s vision caught his attention. He nodded to Jem and the two made their way towards a dark alley. The smell was awful, all stale alcohol and piss, and Will had to concentrate very hard not to gag. Jem pointed and Will turned to see what had caught his attention. It was a humped figure slumped against the wall.

Will made his way carefully towards it. The stench got stronger and Will covered his nose and mouth with his hand. The figure resolved itself into a rough looking mundane man in tattered clothes. He groaned as Will approached. Will reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, turning him into the meager light. Jem reached into his pocket and held up a witchlight. The bright light skimmed over the man and Will saw that he was bleeding from a gash on his head.

“No, no” the man groaned, turning away from the light, “it’ll see us. I can’t let it find me.”

A scraping sound drew the boys’ attention back the way they’d come. A monstrous, slithering demon waved its heads about, flickering a set of forked tongues in and out. Jem cursed and doused the witchlight, removing his sword from his cane. Will palmed a set of knives. The boys split, Jem taking the left side of the ally, Will the right. They crouched behind crates and waited as the demon slithered closer. When it was between them, they leapt, slashing at it from both sides at once. The creature hissed and struck at the boys with its many heads. Will bit down on a yell as one set of fangs came particularly close to snapping him up. He rolled out of the way and glanced over at Jem in time to see him chop off one of the heads. The demon recoiled, screaming, then turned all of its attention to Jem. Will grit his teeth and took the opportunity to charge at the demon, leaping over its coils and plunging his knife into the thin scales of its stomach. The demon writhed as Will gutted it, serpentine limbs flailing dangerously, slamming into the cobblestones with a sickening crack.

“WILLIAM!” Jem called in warning, and he looked up just in time to see a thickly muscled coil swing straight towards him. He braced himself a second before the arm swung into him, lifting him high into the air. He scrambled to keep hold of the smooth scales, imaging the sickening sounds his bones would make when he slammed into the cobbles. The arm arced down with fatal speed and Will considered losing truth or dare and tried to imagine what he would say to Jem in the seconds he had left. But Will wasn’t really a quitter and besides, what was left that truly needed to be said between them? Jem was the other half of his soul; he knew all that lay in his heart. All that mattered at any rate. Besides, Will determined, watching the cobbles approach at an alarming rate, this wasn’t how he wanted to go at all. He’d always imagined his death in battle would be a little more dignified and less smashed-upon-the-cobblestones.

Will levered his feet against the scaled limb and waited until the last possible moment, then flung himself away from the tendril that slammed itself into the ground with cracking force. He covered his head as he rolled on the ground, bits of cobblestone and gravel and dirt raining down on him like urban shrapnel.

The demon began to fold in on itself, collapsing as it returned to its own dimension. Will could just make out the wavering form of Jem as he leapt over the remaining limbs and made his way to his parabatai.

“Will, say something,” Jem demanded with concern as he knelt beside Will, already tracing his stele in a healing rune on Will’s forearm.

Will blinked, trying to focus on Jem’s face. “A whole ten minutes and I killed a demon. I think I deserve some kind of medal.”

Jem snorted and reached out a hand to help Will up. “You weren’t really still going through with that dare were you? What you deserve is a good fussing over by Charlotte.”

Will groaned and made a face as Jem pulled him up. He tried to direct it at the real Jem, but this proved difficult as he was seeing several.

“Come on Will,” Jem cajoled, wrapping Will’s arm around his shoulders and sliding his own around Will’s waist.

The two of them limped along the darkened streets in silence, Will’s eyes closed to try and stop the spinning.

“Truth or dare?” he mumbled, trying to take his mind off the nauseating roil of his stomach.

Jem let out a disbelieving huff of exasperation, “I’m not playing truth or dare with you William!”

“Why not?”

“You’ve clearly just suffered a concussion.”

“You’re just afraid you’re going to lose.”

“Can you really lose truth or dare?” Jem asked curiously.

“Yes, whoever doesn’t complete the dare or refuses to tell the truth first loses,” Will said, eyes still squeezed shut, “So, truth or dare?”

“This is ridiculous William, I’m not playing.”

“You concede defeat?”

“No, I’m just a bit preoccupied trying to make sure we get back to the institute before you pass out.”

“I’m not going to pass out.” Will huffed, even as his body threatened to do just that.

“I dare you not to,” Jem said, and though Will’s eyes were closed, he could feel the concerned glance and tentative curve of Jem’s smile.

“That’s not how it works,” Will slurred. “S’my turn to ask you.”

“Alright then,” Jem relented in an attempt to keep his parabatai talking as they stumbled home.

“Truth or dare?” Will asked.