"Alright, so the rules of baseball are pretty simple…" Jace said, worn ball in one hand, cigarette in the other. Jonathan nodded, trying to fit his hold the wooden baseball bat comfortably. This was, perhaps, the only time he used a bat for sport, and not for juvenile delinquency. Though, he wasn't a kid anymore. Jace already told him that when he 'sassed' his adoptive mother.

Clary smiled at his interest, leaning against the concrete steps of the back door. Her cotton shirt rode up her stomach, exposing its creamy skin. Providing a nice breeze to combat the California heat. She had to cut a pair of jeans to situate to the hot weather, unlike the New York chill, which kept her relatively comfortable.

Clary had found herself forgetting New York with everyday that she resided in her home state. Jocelyn hadn't quite adjusted to the role of a mother, barely accepting that she was committed to one man. Baby steps, Clary reminded herself. She had Jonathan, someone who had practically raised her - besides her father, real father. And she had Jace. Funny, caring, considerate, sweet.. The redhead sighed to herself, shaking her curls past her shoulders and adjusting her thoughts.

Jocelyn had set out a tray of lemonade for them, standing by it, ready for her husband to get even the slightest thirst for it.

"You see this ball?" Jace questioned Jonathan, to which he nodded, brows furrowed in concentration. "When I throw it to you, I want you to hit it. Understand?" He ordered in a gravely voice, or, as Clary like to call, his 'dad' voice. Jace liked to use it on the two of them often. Which was strange, because the man didn't have a serious bone in his toned, strong…

"And what if I don't hit it?" Jonathan asked, interrupting Clary's thoughts.

"Nonsense. With strong arms like that, I'm sure you will." The other man answered, blowing a puff of cigarette smoke out of his lips. One of his calloused hands reached up towards the blue cap on his head, pulling it off and letting the golden locks spring free from their fabric prison. "But just in case, here," Jace tossed the cap towards Jonathan. "My father gave me this.. said it was for good luck." He talked around his burning cigarette.

"Was - is it?" Her adoptive brother asked. Clary leaned in, head balanced on her closed fists, sharing the same curiosity Jonathan had. Jocelyn took sips out of her lemonade, smiling towards the pair.

"I'll be honest, it sounded like horse shit. Total horse shit." A smirk caused Jace to hold on to his cigarette, blowing a puff of the nicotine contents into the California atmosphere. He tossed the baseball in his hand, staring at it momentarily. Clary wanted so badly to know what he was thinking about, the memories he was reliving. To have an old mind, but a young face… it must've been amazing. "But when I went to my first baseball game, damn thing worked!" He chuckled. Jonathan looked down at the cap, ran his fingers over the worn fabric of the lid, nodded once, then placed it over his own blond head with a satisfied expression. Jace grinned at the younger man, tossing the baseball. Once again, his face grew into a concentrated scowl, cigarette back in his mouth where it belonged.

"Throw it," Jonathan said under his breath, adjusting the baseball bat in his grip, bending his knees slightly. Clary wanted to lean it, but was wary of her brother's first swing. Somewhere, in the background of this momentous moment, Jocelyn was pouring herself another glass of lemonade, not the least bit concerned of her adoptive son's possible success.

The ball was thrown. Clary willed her eyes to remain on Jonathan instead of closing in a violent flinch. She watched as it made contact with the wood of the bad, the thunderous crack being heard across the suburban neighbourhood. Jocelyn cheered; clapping her manicured nails and ran to Jonathan in celebration. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the flying baseball. His jaw hung loose, along with his arms.

Clary's gaze travelled the backyard, greeting Jace's. She gave a faint smile, while he returned it with a sheepish grin, slopily shaking his golden head. She felt her pulse race, hands grow clammy, and stomach flip a million times. Deciding to join in on the incessant squealing of her mother, Clary sprinted towards her adoptive brother, as did Jace.

Stopping only when they hear the shattering of a window.

"Shit," Jace cursed, his head snapping back to the shouts of neighbours. Jonathan began his apology, being cut off by his mother who pulled on his hand and tugged him towards the back door of the house. A nervous laugh left Jace's lips as the shouting grew louder. "Guess that's our que to leave!" He huffed. Clary let out a gasp when his hands met her skin. She was lifted up, feet leaving the ground and dangling in the air as Jace hurriedly carried her into the house. His expression appeared humored as she stared up at him with wide green eyes - noticing that his cigarette was no longer there. Clary felt so comfortable against his sturdy frame, sighing in content with herself as he jogged up the front steps and led her into the living room.

And their moment was over.

Jace ran a hand through his golden curls, listening to Jocelyn's excited prattle. Jonathan still wore a shocked expression, hands shaking from the unintended breaking of a neighbour's window.

"But… I didn't mean it this time!" He blurted. Quickly, his eyes were on Jace, a deep scowl darkening them to an impossible obsidian. "You! You said this," Jonathan tore the baseball cap from his head, "was lucky!" He cried. Jace nodded at his previous words of the supposedly lucky hat.

"Jonathan, do you know what a home run is?" Jace question in his fatherly voice.

"Um, no!" The younger blond snapped. Jace nodded, stroking his chiseled jaw line. They all waited patiently for his response.

"Well, Jonathan, according to baseball rules, that distance the ball traveled makes it a home run." Jace clarified. Jocelyn clapped excitedly, taking the cap out of Jonathan's angered grip and placing it back on his head.

"See! It is lucky!" Clary's mother laughed, kissing her adoptive son's cheek before going to Jace's side, nudging her daughter away.

"Whatever," Jonathan growled. There was an angry knock at the door, making all heads snap towards it. The legal siblings gave an apologetic smile to Jace as he reached into the pocket of his pants, probably to pull out his wallet. Clary made her way towards Jonathan, holding onto his muscled arm, giving a tug on it when her brother initially refused to look down at her. "What?" He asked.

"You're not going to throw away the hat, right?" She asked him.

"Damn baseball." Clary heard Jace huff as he walked towards the front door, his slightly older wife at his side, waddling on her pink stilettos.

"Why would I keep this thing?" Her brother questioned, plucking the worn cap from his head. "It's old and smells like sweat and cigarettes!" Jonathan grimaced. "The only thing it will do is drive away any potential lays."

"But Jace's dad gave it to him. It's sentimental. Plus, Jace said it was lucky, or something along the lines of that…" Clary reasoned. Her mouth hung open when her brother pulled her hand towards him and placed the sentimental cap on it. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Think it's so special, why don't you keep it?" Jonathan answered, holding her small hand in his larger, more calloused one. "S'posed to be lucky. And you, Clarissa, need some luck." He grinned down at her. She shrugged, placing it over her red curls.

"Hotel receipts?!" Clary heard Jace yell from the living room. Both her and Jonathan were in their rooms, hoping to ignore the incessant arguing. As their marriage progressed, so did the fighting. Though, the couple did have their romantic moments, such as when they'd go out to a fancy restaurant, or go on long walks. She wondered if that was enough to keep the married couple together.

"I need to have fun, Jace! What's so wrong with that?" Her mother shouted back, probably using her signature shove in a battle of volume. Clary rolled her eyes, remembering the times when it was Valentine and Jocelyn fighting. The only difference was that Valentine didn't care much for being shouted at, and often used the back of his hand to prove this point. "It's boring here!"

"Fuck that! I don't care if I'm the boringest person on the goddamn planet! I'm still your husband, Jocelyn!" He argued back. Clary got up from her bed, placing her ear against the wall across from her. She wanted to know what her brother was up to, if he was silent as well. From this advantage, Clary could hear the sound of feet shuffling around on the shaggy carpet that was the floor of his bedroom. It was likely that he was pacing. Her poor brother.

"They look at me, Jace! They look me in the eyes when they talk to me! They listen to me!" Jocelyn fired back. This interested Clary, making her take her ear off the wall. She hadn't noticed that Jace was losing affection for her mother. It was his affection that spurred her jealousy on- "And don't you dare talk about commitment, you hypocrite! I know you've found someone else. But you used your heart instead of your-"

There was a hard slam heard across the house. It frightened Clary. Jace had never seemed like the man to use physical force to get what he wanted… was she wrong about him? Silence immediately followed, then was replaced by a woman's hysteric laughter. "Go ahead, hit the damn walls. I'm not staying to watch you destroy the house." Her mother snickered. Now Clary wanted to hit her mother.

"Where the hell are you going?" Jace growled.

"Out!" The front door slammed shut, making Clary tremble. She stood in the middle of her room, stuck between going back to bed, or opening the door and comforting Jace. But… how could she? What could someone say to console a person going through what was to be assumed as the end of their marriage? Plus, Clary was practically a carbon copy of her mother. It wouldn't provide any emotional ease to Jace to see the ghost of the woman that had left him.

No, it wouldn't help at all.

So Clary thought long and hard. Still standing despite the tiredness of her knees. Her eyes remained on the floor, bottom lip between her pearly teeth. The first time she moved in her eternity of standing, it was toward the record player cabinet that Jace had bought her. She bent over, reaching for an album that was sure to calm him. At least, it calmed her when her parents had fought.

It wasn't long after the song began to play that Clary heard footsteps down the hall. In walked Jace, red eyes, and drooping face. Quickly, she reached for the baseball cap to cover her red locks. When Jace lifted his amber eyes to her green ones, Clary witnessed the tremble of his knees. She didn't know how to react. Should she hug him? Talk to him?

"Dance with me." She blurted. Jace nodded, stumbling to her, into her thin arms, sniffling quietly. His calloused hands clamped down on her exposed midriff, his nose brushing against her throat. Originally, her hands were at the base of his neck, but soon were rubbing his back, coaxing each sob out of him. "I'm sorry… for my mother. I'm sorry she hurt you." Clary whispered to him.

"You're wearing the lucky hat." Jace pointed out in his hoarse voice, changing the subject. He pulled away from her neck, one calloused hand caressing her cheek. "My lucky hat." The blond murmured. Clary's cheeks reddened as he touched the cap, pulling it from her head and allowing her curls to spring free. "I like your hair… hats aren't for you, Clarissa."

She shook her head, sheepishly grinning. "You know I don't like it when people call me that." Clary reminded him.

"But I'm not just some person." Jace countered softly. Clary nodded. This was true. He was so, so much more than that.

"I know. You're my step father." She saw him visibly flinch at the title, subtly frowning, turning his head to face one side of the room.

He scoffed. "Not for much longer."

Clary pursed her lips, running her hands to adjust the messy collar of Jace's shirt. "Is what she said true? Do you really like someone else." She wanted to curse herself for asking, but the question was burning in her throat, dying to be answered before it spread to the rest of her body.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," Jace reasoned. "I… I didn't think any attraction would build, but it did. I forced it down, but Jocelyn saw it happening… I haven't… I haven't been able to touch her." Her green eyes were sparkling, The Carpenters' Close To You playing in the background. Clary stared at his lips, wondering if the word's had really left his mouth, or if she had just imagined them. She nearly jumped when he let out a chuckle. "You wanna get a drink?" Jace asked her.

"A drink?" She questioned.

"Yeah, as in liquor: something that smells of sin, but feels like heaven once it's settled." He clarified. Clary thought for a second, debating whether drinking with her distraught step father was a good idea… but then she thought of how amazing it felt to be in his presence, how immensely gratifying it was to be in his arms, to talk to him… nothing could reason her out of a situation like that.

"Okay." She nodded, adjusting her jean skirt once his hands left her.

"Come on. Jocelyn keeps a stocked liquor cabinet in the kitchen." He took her small hand and guided her out of the room. Her stomach was spinning, head turning when they passed Jonathan's room. Another sign that she shouldn't take his offer to drink with him.

And yet, she persevered.

"Wanna feel good?" Jace asked her with a sly grin on his tanned face. Clary returned the grin and took the bottle of golden liquid out of his hands, taking a few gulps of it. The drink burned its way down to her stomach, warming her skin and making her want more, more, more. "Slow down, sweetheart, there's more where that came from." He chuckled. A heated blush lit her cheeks once again as she took yet another bottle out of his large hands.

"What's this?" Clary asked.

"Don't know, must've been a wedding gift." Jace shrugged. When he talked, the stench of liquor reached her nose. But when her eyes met his, there was this look of seriousness in them, one that hadn't shone since their dance together as father and daughter.

Several drinks and curse words later, they found themselves talking about her stay in New York. "So," Jace languidly began. "You mean to tell me you got this matching tattoo with a boy you barely knew?" He laughed. Clary answered with a shake of her head.

"Stupid, right?" She asked. The blond scratched the back of his head, stretching the muscles of his arms as he did so.

"What happened?" Jace asked.

"He left." Clary answered.

"Left?" He repeated, leaning in close, eyes an unusual dark for their normally bright color. Again, she nodded. "His loss." Jace muttered, more to himself than to her. Her face fell, remembering the day Sebastian was missing from the motel room they had stayed in.

"Yeah… his loss." She whispered. Her arms was grasped by warm fingers, Jace looking at her with wondering eyes.

"I mean it. He'll regret losing you, Clary." When she didn't agree to his statement, his hands moved down, down to her exposed stomach. "Do you ever look at yourself? Hot doesn't begin to describe you. You're above beautiful… more than unique. I can't think of a word that can do you justice, Clarissa." He swore, hands still at her stomach. His mouth was so, so close to hers. She could practically taste the words as they left his lips. And it wasn't enough for her. She craved more of him. More of the closeness.

She stretched her hand out, placing it on the one he had on her stomach. Her green eyes searched into his, silently begging him to show her, to cross a line that was was marked forbidden. A side they could never venture.

He licked his lips, staring at hers afterwards. Do it, please, please do it, Clary chanted over in her head. But there wasn't a way for them to begin. They weren't drunk enough, and saying so would be a lie. They'd remember it so clearly the next day… something she didn't mind.

"Clary…" Jace hummed to himself. She understood without him needing to ask. He couldn't touch her, not without some sort of verification that she wanted this. That she wanted to start something that there was no pleasant ending to.

And did she want to?

Yes.

Her lips couldn't reach his fast enough, even with the miniscule distance between them. He tasted sweet. He tasted of forbidden fruit. Of sin, of lust, of everything she wanted, but could not have. His lips were soft, like stolen silk. Like gentle waters of a land she could never visit. His tongue massaged hers, danced with hers, battled with hers, defeated hers, yet left her satisfied. More, more, more, her heart pumped with each needy beat.

Over the short course of their kissing, she was moaning into his mouth, whimpering when his hand raised to cup her breast. "Jace," she breathed out, begging for more than what was already too much for her to comprehend.

"Clary," he gasped between the suction of kisses. His hand left her chest, lowering to her hips where the other was waiting. In a flash, her lips were against nothing but cold air, and she was against the counter. Jace gripped her curls between his fingers, placing it over one shoulder. Clary was about to cry for the comfort of his mouth before she felt a wet softness against her neck.

"Oh, oh…" She moaned, gripping the marble counter till her knuckles were white.

"You taste so… I need more." Jace growled against her dampened neck, kissing and sucking it till there was no taste left. His mouth wandered down, while his hand raised her shirt to where he could kiss at her back. She was panting like a dog, a mongrel, all because of his doing. Clary heard the sound of his knees resting on the tile floor before his kisses were marking her thighs like a map made of sweet saliva.

"More," she agreed, spreading her legs. His fingers dug into tender flesh, holding her still as he continued to kiss her body, reaching closer and closer to where she needed him most. "Jace, please," Clary moaned. His mouth left her legs, and she wasn't allowed to question it before she was roughly spun back around to face him, gasping at the sheer lust swimming in his darkened eyes.

Jace's lips returned to her swollen mouth, tongue prodding at her own. Clary's hands clawed down his back, making him groan hot air between her lips. His hands dug at her thigh, lifting them to wrap around his waist. She could feel him, desperate and hungry between her legs. Grinding his carnal needs into her core.

Clary's skirt had ridden far up her stomach, and with an agitated grunt, Jace reached into their moving bodies to tug at the buttons. She slowed down for him, wanting to gasp when he he ripped the jean fabric off of her, tossing it somewhere she wasn't able to see before his mouth was back against hers. More, her mind demanded.

Her thin fingers grasped at the button of his jeans. This time, it was him who slowed down as she removed an article of clothing off of him. Well, not really. He did most of the work, kicking his jeans, and then boxers down. Calloused fingers tugged at her panties, making her sigh in relief when he slipped them off her creamy legs, staying in his crouched position.

"Jace, what are you-" She was cut off mid sentence when she felt a velvet touch against her most sensitive area. Her mouth hung loose as he licked and sucked between her legs. She felt his hair against her fingers, pushing him to her, against her so that she could grind against his mouth.

More…

His lips were pressed back against hers, hardness against her softness. More, her hungry mind screamed as he lifted her thigh to wrap around his waist once again. He teased at her entrance, making her feel him throb. Her hands scratched at the skin of his shoulders, of his back. When he sunk into her, it took all her strength not to scream out in relief. As if she were on fire, and this was the cool water that would save her from the biting flames.

"Fuck," He breathed, thrusting between her thighs. She whimpered against his ear, moving her hips to take him deeper. His hot breath fanned across her face, making sweat bead at a faster rate. "You… You're so tight." Jace grunted. Clary cried out, her walls constricting him as he continued to piston his hips.

"Oh my-" Her voice was cut off as he silence her with his slick mouth. She held onto his biceps as he gripped her fleshy thighs, allowing him to go deeper than any boy ever had.

"God, tell me you're close." Jace hissed. Clary nodded her head. He slipped out of her, making Clary her want to scream at the loss of him. He flipped her around, making her lean against the marble counter, knuckles turning a ghastly shade of white as she held on for all she was worth - him pounding her from behind. She was practically being fucked within an inch of her life.

Sweat dripped into her eyes with the energy she was putting forth. For a moment, Clary swore she saw something in the distance. A white blond staring blankly - making eye contact with his adoptive sister as Jace moved inside her. She cried out to alert Jace, but it soon was her way of releasing the pent up orgasm. Jace stiffened, spilling his own release inside of her. His head landed on Clary's back as he caught his breath.

She watched as the white blond walked back into his room, too exhausted to chase after him.

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think of the chapter!