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Over the course of the next few weeks, Alec kept trying, tirelessly, but ultimately in vain, to tell himself, that things between Jace and him had not, in fact, gotten weird.
But, to be absolutely, terrifyingly honest: Things between Jace and him had gotten very, very weird, indeed.
Not in an obvious, all-encompassing, Izzy-is-giving-us-the-worried-look way. But the short moments of paralysis he felt after every accidental touch, the lack of nonverbal communication via looks that lasted longer than two seconds, the avoidance of personal subjects in their dialogues… the list got longer every day; and all denial notwithstanding, Alec couldn’t shake the feeling that he was slowly, but surely, losing his footing on the deep, abiding friendship he and Jace had been sharing for more than ten years.
All that, just because he hadn’t been able to get his fucking emotions under control. Sure, Jace had contributed his fair share of bad decision making skills, but he couldn’t have predicted the outcome as it was now, could he?
The most confusing and scary part, though, was that Alec’s mind, as much as he tried to avoid it, still circled back to Jace’s lips and the taste of electricity in his mouth, to hands in his hair and determined blue eyes; and it occurred to him, at some point, that Jace had achieved the exact opposite of what he had aimed for with the best of intentions: Instead of convincing Alec that his crush was a nice concept in theory, but completely unfit for practice, he had turned it into full-blown yearning, because once you’ve had something that good, you want it again, and you’re spoiled for pretty much everything else, and – in short, Alec was on the very verge of madness every time Jace so much as entered the room he was in.
Which had just happened again, while Alec had been busy feathering new arrows at the big wooden table in the training rooms. It was a tedious and slow task that asked for a certain amount of concentration – perfect for somebody who didn’t want to spend too much time thinking. Or, preferably, none at all.
“Alec”, Jace greeted him, sternly; and Alec dropped the arrow he had been working on with a surprised upward jerk of his head, while his pulse spiked up like he had been fighting monsters for the past ten minutes, not sitting down and doing the shadowhunter version of arts and crafts. Jace looked completely unfazed at Alec’s shocked expression. “Sorry”, he added, half-heartedly, “You’re busy.”
Alec cleared his throat. “Ah – yeah. Need to get those done”, he replied, and avoided looking at Jace’s face. When did this conversation become so awkward? Oh, right. Before it even started. Idiot.
“Would you mind me training a little?”
Alec shook his head wordlessly, still staring at the table, picking the abandoned arrow back up, and after two incredibly tense seconds Jace disappeared from his peripheral vision.
A little while later the tell-tale thudding of somebody hitting a punching bag started sounding through the training room, and despite his best efforts to focus on his task, Alec’s brain decided to spontaneously supply him with accompanying pictures of Jace’s sweaty frame going at the training equipment, his muscles and tendons protruding through the gleaming skin of his upper arms, and his hair hanging down in messy…. Oh my God. What are you doing? Training to become a romance novelist?
Alec closed his eyes in an effort to win his concentration back, but the pictures grew even more vivid without actual visual input, so he gave up on this ill-conceived strategy very quickly, and forced them back open.
After another five minutes of finding himself yet still unable to focus, Alec slowly came to the conclusion that he was a) truly going to go insane, and that it might be b) better to discourage his stupid fantasies by actually taking a look at Jace.
So, after a deep breath of composing himself, he did finally look up.
As it turned out, that was a mistake.
Jace was, indeed, laying waste to the closest punching bag, perfectly aligned with Alec’s visual axis, and not only was he wearing a very determined look on his face, he was also not wearing a shirt, showing off his perfectly toned abdominal muscles, a possibility that hadn’t even occurred to Alec before, who felt like somebody had glued his eyes to Jace’s body, – looking away wasn’t even an option – as he watched every kick, twist and punch Jace was laying down, and why exactly was this a bad idea again?
Just then, Jace stopped hitting the bag for a few moments, looked directly at Alec, and smirked. “You wanna join me?”, he asked. “You look bored.”
Alec tried to blink himself back into reality, and his mouth gave an answer, before he could properly think it through: “Sure.”
Jace’s smile broadened, and Alec stood up, still half in trance, while the rational part of his brain was scrambling around for a way to get out of this situation. As it turned out: There wasn’t one. At least not one that wouldn’t make this whole thing between them more painfully awkward than they could possibly stand. You’ve been sparring with him basically your entire life. It’s not like this is any different. Just act normal, Alec. Like always. ACT NORMAL.
“Umm – should I take my shirt off?”
Jace didn’t say anything to Alec’s question, he simply bit his lip; and it creeped up on Alec that acting normal certainly didn’t look like what he was doing right now. Without another word he stripped off his shirt, and went into starting position.
“Ready?”, Jace asked, a gleam of challenge in his eye.
“Ready when you are.”
They started circling each other, going for a feint here and there, but soon they proceeded to actual body contact. It was not like any other sparring practice before – Alec figured that out soon enough: For some reason Jace went at it a little more brutally than he normally would have, and together with Alec’s acute awareness of their closeness, Jace’s heat and the hard, muscular planes of his body, it made for a very intense fight. They were both giving their all; and Alec couldn’t really tell how long it lasted, but in the end he overlooked a leg pull disguised as a right hook, lost his balance, and landed on his back, with Jace following suit in a pantheresque glide, holding Alec down with his legs around his midsection, and his right hand on Alec’s wrists.
“I win”, he said, superfluously, while Alec was still staring up at him, trying to catch his breath, and failing.
“What are you gonna do about it?”, he asked, unthinking. It seemed to him that the sensible, conscious part of his brain had not made it out of this fight alive. Jace was not breaking eye contact, but his gaze turned noticeably softer.
And then, suddenly, he was kissing Alec, with utter abandon, right on the floor of the training centre where every shadowhunter could walk in on them at any time, and Alec didn’t put up even a semblance of resistance, because he really didn’t have any left in him. Jace’s grip on Alec’s wrists had loosened, and Alec buried his hands in Jace’s hair and pulled him down, let himself have this, let them have this, licking into his mouth, the smell of sweat and leather surrounding him. Jace’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip and sparks of pleasure were shooting down his spine, while he found himself grow achingly hard in his pants – and just as if Jace had tapped right into his thoughts, he started grinding down on Alec’s crotch, while his lips pulled up into a smile between them.
“I can feel you”, he whispered, and Alec let out a small moan.
“Shit, Jace, what-“
Jace interrupted him. “I want to do this with less clothes. And then-“ He bit down on Alec’s bottom lip again. “I want you to fuck me.”
His mouth covered Alec’s in a particularly dirty slide, presumably to prevent him from saying anything stupid – but that wouldn’t have been necessary, because Alec was completely lost for words, and had probably forgotten the English language altogether. The only thing he knew how to do was hold on to Jace, who was moving on top of him, sharing open-mouthed kisses and breathing with him, into him, as his body went stiff and his vision blacked out, way too quickly for his liking, sending him tumbling over the edge, and falling, falling, falling...
As he came to, Jace was lying on him, his breath coming fast, but more regularly, his lips still connected to Alec’s, one hand in his black, more-tousled-than-usual hair. “Don’t freak out”, Jace demanded, gently, but to his own surprise, Alec actually wasn’t going to. Yet.
“This was bound to happen sooner or later, right?”, he remarked, and he knew, in that moment, that he had, over the last few weeks, been more or less doing the equivalent of trying to hold back a tsunami by building a makeshift picket fence.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising. I needed that, too. Not that you could have misinterpreted my reaction.”
Jace chuckled, before his facial expression turned serious again. “I can’t – I just can’t promise this won’t happen again, Alec. The last few weeks – fuck, I nearly went crazy, every time you as much as waltzed into the room I was in.”
Alec let out a humourless huff. “Tell me about it.”
He bit his lip. There was still something on his mind that he should speak about. If you don’t say it now, you never will. Just do it, for fuck’s sake. “Are we still good, Jace? Are we still…parabatai? Because, whatever this” He waved his hand in a deliberately vague way. “Whatever it ruins, I can live with it. But – I couldn’t live with us not being that any more.”
Jace looked at him for a few long seconds, and then he bowed down and kissed Alec again, chaste and honest this time.
“Always, Alec. Whatever else we are, we’ll always be that.”
Alec nodded, relief flooding his veins. “Good.”
Jace smiled and, finally, got up, offering Alec his hand.
“I’ll go – shower”, Alec murmured, as he took it and rose to his feet. Jace had the nerve to laugh; and despite himself, Alec felt a grin spread on his face as well. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You really, really don’t.”