Hey people! I know, intros suck because all they are are people blabbing on and on and venting about their personal life. Well you'll have to deal with this one xD. So, this is my first Mortal Instrument fic. I've got one over at the Max Ride section, though, incase you wanted to check that out. Anyway, there wasn't much 'funny' stuff on here. Just a bunch of sappy romance. So, I decided to create this hilarious little fic. If any of you have gotten my reviews, you'll know how Jace and I are rivalries right now.

Enjoy, laugh, let loose. I think we all know how stressful life can be.

My POV

I walk into the kitchen rubbing sleep from my eyes. My hair was a tangled brown mass, but there wasn't much I could do for it until I got in the shower. I stopped in the middle of the kitchen, closed my eyes and yawned, stretching. Boy, was I tired. Stayed up the whole night reading about Clary and-

Jace.

My eyes popped open to a very golden, very ratty Jace. He was halfway through the window that rested above the sink in my cheery yellow kitchen.

Believe it or not, my first thought was actually: Did I leave that open again?

The second: What the freezing penguins is Jace Lightwood doing in my kitchen at 7 A.M?

Jace froze in the window, staring wide-eyed at me with those gorgeous eyes of his.

"Hey," I greeted nonchalantly, shuffling over to the fridge and peeking inside. "Milk or juice?"

"Uh…Could I have water?"

I slammed the fridge shut and turned on him. "What? Does it look like I have water? I think not! I offered juice or milk- now pick!"

He blinked, surprised at the change in my moods. "Juice is cool."

I turned back to the fridge. "Apple or pear?"

"Pear."

I rummaged through the fridge, grabbing what Jace requested oh-so-rudely before setting them down on the table. I waved Jace in.

Cautiously, Jace slid the rest of the way into my lemon-like kitchen and plopped into and oak chair in front of his breakfast. He stared at it as if it was infected.

"Well eat it! I slaved over it for seconds!"

Jace picked up a pear, held it up, and arched a perfect eyebrow at me.

"You said pear."

"I thought you meant juice. Not the actual fruit!"

"Who drinks pear juice?"

"Uh… I do?"

"Yeah, but you're not normal."

"Pardon me!"

I groaned. "Jace Lightwood, don't you dare go all Brit on me!"

"Wha-"

"Uh-uh-uh! Just eat! I'm taking a shower."

"Mind if I join you?"

I smacked him on the head with a spoon. "How dare you!"

Then I stormed upstairs and slammed the bathroom door shut.

I came downstairs clad in fresh clothes and the mass atop my head finally worthy enough to be called 'hair'. Barely.

My mother was sitting across from Jace, sipping coffee from her mug. Ooops. Forgot she goes on her business trip tomorrow and not today. Real nice, smart one. You should think about that the next time before you go inviting hot fictional characters into your home for some fruit and juice.

Mom looked up from staring intently at the pear-nibbling Jace. "Uh, Shiver? Could I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course, mother dear!"

Mom got up and led me from the kitchen to the dining room just out of ear-shot. "What is a boy doing in my kitchen?!"

Ah, right. Mom was used to all the vamps and werewolves and gnomes and penguins and pandas and ligers I usually kept holed up in the kitchen. Boys? Not so much.

"Oh the Angel?"

"Uh, sure."

"Yeah. Yeah, we go way back. Back to the good 'ol days of blocks with painted letters on them and Little Einstein Developmentals. That far."

"Okay, but who is that?"

I give her an odd look. "Jace Lightwood. Don't you remember him? We carpooled. Where did you think I disappeared to when I supposedly 'went to school'."

"Uh, school?"

"Sure I did."

Mom gave me a look like she was seriously considering my mental health. Sadly, there was nothing she could do. She already had me screened once and it came out negative. Although there is a slight possibility something might have developed over time….

"Just don't get in trouble with the guy."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling. "Oh, mom. It's Jace. You've known him for fourteen years. Don't you trust him by now?"

"Apparently, I do," my mother muttered under her breath, head in the opposite direction of the kitchen to pack her bags.

I wander back into the kitchen and sit across from Jace, smiling like a crazed manic maniac. (And yes, those are both two different words with different meanings!)

Jace eyed me wearily. "Can I help you?"

"No. Considering the fact that once I kidnap you, my mental health will be damaged even further more than it already is, which is, as I may think you could guess, not very helpful at all. So no, you cannot help me." My wicked grin grew. "But, on the other hand, my sanity is so far gone that I don't think it would do much harm if it was lowered just a teensy bit more."

Jace blinked. "Wait- kidnap?" was all he got out of the entire speech.

I opened my mouth to respond with a witty comment like, "Tell anyone and I'll have to kill you," but my mother came in carrying several bags.

"I'm leaving now, honey."

I checked my watch (the one with all the jagged fangs sticking out everywhere on it, the numbers awesome in gothic fashion) and saw that it was a whole half of a day before mom was supposed to leave. According to my watch, it was 'morning' and not 'night'. Whatever that means.

"So soon?"

"Yes. The meeting had been rescheduled. I'll call you later!" She gave me a tight squeeze before grabbing her bags and rushing out the door.

When I looked back at Jace, I saw he was staring at my shirt. I was wearing a regular black T with a yellow smiley face in the center- with fangs protruding from its manic mouth.

I raised my eyebrows, daring him to comment on it. He did.

"Wonderful shirt. It resembles Simon well."