I couldn't help myself.

AU/AH/OOC/Fluffy.

Pairing: Clary/Jace

Rating: M *language/mentions underage drinking, smoking, drug use*

Status: Complete. It's a one-shot.

Enjoy. ;)

Jace

She was so small.

So vulernable looking.

She was slender, waifish. Breakable, even.

Innocent. Sweet. Wide, curious green eyes that were free of corruption.

Beautiful. Perfection.

Jace watched as the short, petite girl stare up in awe at the painting.

Truthfully, he didn't see what about the painting called her-It was, afterall, just a painting of a cliff overlooking an ocean-but the adorable amazement on her face as she stared up at the damn cliff made him want to steal it away, just for her to keep. And hopefully get her to look at him that way in the process.

He was in some art museum, with two guys he couldn't stand but hung out with anyways, cutting school because they were failing, so really, what was the point?

Red looked like she valued education, Jace noted.

It almost made him want to say "Screw it" and go back to school, instead of sitting on the stairs and staring at statues of naked woman.

He watched, fascinated, as she captured her petal-pink lip, eyebrows furrowed as she stared on at the painting.

What the hell was so great about the painting?

She must be an artist, he realized. Someone who finds beauty in even the simplest of things.

I wonder if she could find something good in me. He doubted it. Anger management and a broken childhood cancelled him out of that category.

If he were to approach her, he'd corrupt that innocence she carried.

Snap her small body, if he were to wrap his arms around her ribbon-slim waist, like he desperately wanted to.

Jace scowled, and briefly pulled his cigarette from between his lips.

He had plenty of girls for him at his apartment, where he lived with his oblivious grandmother. Plenty of girls at school, when he actually showed up.

So why was he wasting his time on her?

Jace shook his head, disgusted with himself. He couldn't get too close to this redheaded stranger.

If he didn't ruin her, she'd ruin him.

Two Days Later

Two days.

Two goddamn days.

She was plaguing his every thought.

The way her full pink lips were always caught between her teeth...How her fiery hair was sweetly parted into two braids, curling at the end...Her green eyes, so bright, curious, happy...Flawless skin, even with freckles, he wanted to trace his tongue along that soft-looking skin...

Jace swore, and threw his bottle of bourbon across the room, where it smashed and shattered against the wall.

Why the hell couldn't he forget about her?

He raked his hands down his face, reveling in the brief pain he felt when he nails cut through the skin on his cheekbone. I already have too many scars. One more won't change anything.

He had school. But if he went now, he'd be four hours late.

Jace shrugged, and pulled a pack of Camels from a pair of torn jeans on the floor, and lit up, smoke hazing in his view.

His so-called "friends" weren't going to school either, but were staying in some other friend's apartment, shooting up, popping pills, smoking, snorting, or whatever the hell they decided to do now.

They'd called, invited him to join them in "chilling out".

He declined. Drugs weren't his thing. Nasty little habit. He'd tried it once, but he'd felt to much like his father. Something he tried his hardest never to be like. And that ruined his high.

Jace blew out the wispy smoke, and wondered if he went to the art museum, if Red would be there.

Hating himself for it, Jace felt hope for the first time in seventeen years, that she would be.

...

...

...

...

She wasn't.

Pissed at himself for caring, for actually hoping the little bitch would actually be there, Jace went into the men's bathroom, smoked a joint despite his morals, and started a huge brawl with five huge grown men.

He lost. Badly.

Drunk, high, bloody and sore, Jace was kicked out of the damn museum.

She wasn't there.

Why wasn't she there?

School.

Jace swung to his right, and punched the building he'd been walking near.

Ouch. Brick.

Fuck. Now his hand was hurting.

Jace sighed, and glanced at his watch. It was Friday. She'd be at school, still.

And it was seven thirty. Plenty of time for him to go to school.

No. Why go after missing the other four days of the week?

He rolled his eyes, and climbed out his window of five stories. No need to wake Grandmother Dorothea. She could be a real bitch in the morning.

Jace strode lazily down the street, smoke from his ciggy swirling around his head like a mask. He was in no hurry, on the outside.

Inwardly, though, he just wanted the day to be over and for tomorrow to be here. And fast.

It was the perfect morning for a walk, even in a dump in New York. Well, the neighborhood he lived in, anyways.

But it was ruined.

"Stop!" A girl's pleading scream shattered through Jace's calm, and his head snapped to the right, where there was a trashed-looking alley. How perfectly cliche.

"Please! Don't hurt me," there was a soft begging note in her sobs, and Jace felt his fists clench at his sides.

Being raised by a man who beat his wife merciously black and blue, Jace couldn't stand violence toward woman, of any kind. He was going to kill the motherfucker.

Jace's lazy stride broke into a run, following the sounds of her screams.

He came to a stop, staring. Three men, looking high from the looks of their red eyes, circled around the idiot girl who'd wandered into the worst neighborhood possible for any young, attractive girl.

It was her.

His Red.

Sweet Red.

Having those vile pieces of shit, stroke her trembling jaw...Croon dirty things in her reluctant ear...

Jace snapped.

He launched himself at them, swinging and kicking, grabbing the "men" by their hair and cracking their heads against the side of the building. They begged for him to stop.

But they didn't stop for her.

So he wouldn't stop for them.

Jace didn't bother checking for a pulse.

Did it matter if they were dead or not?

He turned to look at Red, who had pressed herself against the bricks, shaking like a leave.

Oh, baby, he wanted to hug her, kiss her. Surprising himself, usually he just thought about fucking. What did they do to you?

He took a step towards her, and she broke down crying.

"Don't hurt me," she pleaded in a whisper. "Please. I'll give you my money, just-Please, let me go."

She was terrified of him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jace said, his voice husky from the whiskey he'd drank the night before, and the couple of Grizzly's he'd had on his short walk. "Are you alright, Angel? Did they touch you?"

Angel. It had slipped off of his tongue before he could catch himself.

But it fit perfectly. That was exactly what she was.

She shook her head, her round green eyes glazed with tears. "I-I was running late to school," she stuttered, gasping for breath from holding it for so long. "I tried to take a short cut. I didn't realize that they..." she broke off, and hugged her arms around herself, trembling till her teeth began to chatter.

"Shh." Jace surprised himself, reaching out and sliding his arms gently around her waist, like he'd wanted to do when he first saw her. "I've got you, Angel. You're safe," he whispered in her ear. She nuzzled her face into his chest, and he felt himself almost smile; She was hugging him. And he hadn't hurt her.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He rubbed her back. "I'll walk you to school."

He took her hand, and let her lead him to her school.

His angel's name was Clary, she told him before they approached her school. Clary Fray. She liked the color green, adored kittens, and had an unhealthy obsession for hot sauce. She didn't like roses, but loved sunflowers, and was an artist, like he'd suspected.

And had a weird idea that he was a good person.

She thanked him over and over, insisting she didn't know what might have happened if he hadn't showed up.

He knew what would've happened, but didn't want to think about it. If he did, he might've ended up snapping the neck of some innocent bystander.

He told her that he liked the colors green and red (Before he met her it was black.) and had a fat cat named Church that slept on his face. He smoked, and avoided school.

Clary wasn't fazed. In fact, she didn't look at him warily or frightenedly. She swung their intertwined hands, back and forth, and told him stories that he laughed at.

He hadn't laughed like that since he was seven.

Jace was reluctant to let go of her hand, and her, when they reached the fancy-looking building. He felt something in his chest tighten happily when she looked saddened to go as well.

She actually enjoyed his company.

Clary stood on her tip-toes-No joke, she couldn't have been 5"2-and kissed him on the cheek, sweetly.

Jace blinked, and she blushed, and ran up the steps to her school before he could pick her up and give her a real kiss.

Saturday

Jace sat on the steps, waiting anxiously to see if she would come to the museum that day.

Please, Angel, he closed his eyes. It physically hurt to be away from her.

"Jace?"

His eyes popped open, and there she was: Ripped jeans and a too-big green T-shirt, her hair pulled back in two messy braids.

Perfection.

Angel.

He released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and stood up, holding out his arms hesitantly.

What if she realized how low he was? How much better she could do?

Without the slightest bit of hesitation or regret on her face, Clary jumped eagerly into his embrace.

"I missed you," he whispered into her hair, stroking her back and arms, reassuring himself that she was really there.

She giggled, and pulled back to look him in the eyes. "It's been one day, Jace," she told him, looking disbelieving.

He smiled back; He still couldn't believe she could actually get him to smile. "It's felt like one year to me," he told her, honestly.

Clary pressed her cheek against his. "You're sweet," she murmured. "Even if you have unusual obsessive tendencies."

"Hey!" Jace tried to look affronted, but knew she was partly correct.

She smiled at him, and kissed him lightly and quickly on his lips, pulling back way too soon. This time, though, Jace didn't let her pull away, and reached around, cupping the back of her neck and pressed those petal-soft pink lips back to his slightly roughly ones, kissing her tantalizingly slow until she whimpered into his mouth, trying to grind herself into him.

He chuckled against her mouth, and pulled back. "I do believe there are some fascinating paintings you'd rather be looking at than kissing me," he told her, smirking at the sight of her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips.

She blinked a couple of times, and glared at him. "Not fair," she huffed.

Jace kissed her on the neck in an apology, and carried her over to the cliff painting, still holding her.

"What did you like so much about this painting?" He asked, stroking along her cheekbone with his index finger.

Clary shrugged. "It's so...uplifting," she explained, her eyes leaving his to stare at the painting in question. "And beautiful." She looked back at him. "What about you?"

He pressed his face into her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone. "It brings me hope," he whispered, his cool breath blowing against her skin, causing her to shiver.

They both knew he wasn't talking about the painting.

Sorry if it sucked. It's one in the morning. So yeah...

Review...