Don't own. The wonderful Cassandra Clare knows that. =]

If there was one thing that Clary Fray knew about Jace Wayland, it was that he was an insufferable bastard with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever. This was the thought that was at the foremost of her brain as she threw a ceramic bowl she had made--she would regret this later, it was one of her favorites--directly at the spot between his shoulder blades.

Damn him and his inhuman speed. His head automatically ducked. He wasn't even facing her, and somehow he managed to know that she wished to decapitate him with eatery. It smashed into the wall with a satisfyingly loud clatter, leaving an indent, and traces of white, powdery substance on the wall. He turned slowly, his eyebrows raised so high into his forehead that they were disappearing into his angelic blonde curls.

"If this is your idea of foreplay, then -." But his sarcastic comment was cut off by a plate that was aimed this time, at this face. He caught this one, his face a mask of surprise and amusement.

"-I think we should designate a safety word." He said, a small smile playing around his lips. She made a sound halfway between choking and screaming, suddenly she was not satisfied with throwing things at him. Her hands she decided, it must be her hands. Wrapped directly around his neck, preferably. They faced each other, on opposite sides of the table, her hands clutching the top of the chair in front of her, imagining that they were choking the life out of him.

He looked surprisingly calm for someone who was about to die, Clary couldn't help but think. He was facing her directly, his hands casually in his pants, the picture of ease. He was in his gear, a few scrapes along his right hand, a little dirty, but otherwise unharmed. He looked relaxed, but she could detect the slight tension in his shoulders, a telltale sign that he was worried.

"You did it again." She hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "AGAIN!" She yelled, chucking a spoon at him. He didn't duck or catch it this time, simply let it bounce off of his chest with a dull thunk.

"Clary." He said, in an irritatingly serene voice, "just let me ex-"

"You are damn lucky that I'm not wearing my gear right now, or Raziel himself couldn't help you." She said venomously, shifting a little to the left, because he looked like he was about to make a run for it. Oh no you don't she thought, I'm not done with you yet.

"Ok," he said, looking defeated. "I'm sorry." That's right he was sorry.

"You deliberately left, hunted down that demon, and killed him without even letting me know!" She said, crossing her arms, some of her anger fading into hurt. Was this what it was going to be like? She was to be cast into the background, only fit for domestic activities. No. She refused, thinking of her mother and Maryse. They weren't cast off, they fought for their right to keep their Shadowhunter status.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, his tone soft. His face was repentant, but his eyes were filled with mirth. Not helping. "I just don't want you taking any unnecessary risks, right now, that's all." He said, making his way around the table, towards Clary. He was facing her, but didn't reach out to touch her. "I've got too much to loose." Now he touched her, stroking her face from her temple to her jaw, gently as if he was stroking the feathers of a delicate bird. "Please forgive me." He murmured, cupping her face. She leaned into his touch, her anger completely dissolving into a sort of irritated contentment.

"I'm not even showing yet." She said sounding only slightly petulant. She felt his warm sigh of relief wash over her face in a puff of sweetness. Actually there was nothing about it that was sweet. He smelled like metal and sweat and Ichor, but still like Jace. Her sweet, warm, loving Jace.

"Actually, you are a little." He said, unable to keep the glee from his voice. He placed his other hand on the slightly bulged part of her lower stomach. What did he just say?

"Did you just call me fat?" Clary demanded, leaping away from his touch. She was angry again. Jace sighed, ready to diffuse the next time bomb.

"No, of course not. You're being hormonal." He said, instantly regretting it. Uh-oh. He thought, watching her eyes widen angrily.

"OH JUST SAY IT JACE!" She exploded, making Jace take a quick step back. "You think I'm fat and hormonal, and completely undesirable, not to mention the fact that you wont even let me help take out a stupid Drevak demon."

Boom.

Jace's jaw clenched, her mood swings were getting worse, no matter how adamantly she denied it. "Clary," he said calmly. "You're not fat, you're pregnant."

"I-…" She didn't have a reply to that. He was right. But she was not being hormonal. Ok, maybe a little. Her eyes drifted to the broken pieces of the bowl. Maybe a lot. She bit her lip, instantly embarrassed, and looked at her shoes. Or tried to anyway, some of them were blocked by her protruding stomach. He was right, she was being terrible. But she couldn't help it, she didn't even feel like herself anymore, all of a sudden she was out of control angry, and then the next second she burst into tears.

"I'm sorry." She said with a sigh. "You're right, I'm in no condition to fight." She said grudgingly. He was instantly there, drawing her to him, and laughing slightly into her hair. She closed her eyes, and felt how much he loved her, the way his arms always wrapped protectively around her, the way his hand searched for hers constantly. The way he gently pressed his perfect lips on her own. As if he was reading her mind, she felt his fingertips under her chin, gently coaxing her face towards him.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He murmured. "You've got our baby in there. I think I can handle a little yelling."

"A little?" she said incredulously. "I probably looked like I was about to attack Tokyo." Clary smiled slightly, as Jace shook with silent laughter.

"Well it wasn't as bad as all that…more like an angry nixie." He said, placing a delicate kiss on her lips. He had been so careful since she had told him about the pregnancy, like he could break her with a simple touch. They were quiet for a moment, peaceful. It was like this a lot lately (except for the occasional shouting), but both of them treasured every moment.

"About that safety word…." Jace said, trailing his fingertips along the line of her jaw. "I was thinking something along the lines of Godzilla."

"How appropriate," Clary said dryly, rolling her eyes. But her attempts at sarcasm were effectively cut off by his lips on her neck. She could feel the curve of his lips as he smiled.

"After all, " he said with a little chuckle "you are my little monster."

A/N: This is the first time I've written for TMI. Hope I did the fabulous Jace justice.

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