lay me down from heaven's end

“Oh, give me a break,” Jace said with a roll of mismatched eyes. “Shadowhunter, remember? And what, you weigh about a hundred pounds, soaking wet? I think I can handle it.” It wasn’t strange that Simon wanted to watch Game of Thrones, or cuddle, but Jace still felt like he should be feeding him in some way -- that was what Maryse and the Lightwoods had always done for Jace when he was sick. Simon being a vampire didn’t mean that he didn’t need sustenance! “I think I can deal with that,” he said, and kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed next to Simon.

“You’re not pathetic,” Jace said firmly, and then with a thinly-veiled smirk, wrapped his arms more tightly around Simon to lift him, bridal style, against his chest and carry him to his bedroom. It wasn’t far, so Jace nudged open the door within a minute, and dropped Simon carefully in the center of the mattress. “There,” he said lightly, a teasing gleam in his eyes as he dragged the blankets up over Simon’s thin frame. “Do you want me to go find you some blood that isn’t infected, now?”

“Okay, so, staking jokes? No longer funny,” Jace told Simon firmly, and dropped his hands to the vampire’s waist to pull him forward against the broad planes of Jace’s chest. It was getting easier to be affectionate toward Simon without feeling like an idiot, or like he was risking too much -- the other man had been good for the blonde, in that respect. “Come on, let’s go back to bed,” he pushed, shifting one hand to rub Simon’s back gently. 

“You may have a point,” Jace said with a dramatic sigh. “I guess he’ll probably know that I’m not making a move on you -- you’re not exactly my type, after all,” He smirked, but Magnus’ cavalier attitude toward his own health was a little worrying. “I don’t think the ability to go longer without sleep means that you should try to go longer,” he pointed out. “And are your ribs still broken? Can’t you heal them with magic?” Jace exhaled in a long gust, and touched Magnus’ shoulder. “Hey. Seriously. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Jace’s hand slid up Simon’s neck to card through his hair gently. “Why are you up and moving around, then?” he chided, not bothering to hide the fact that he was worried -- and Jace planned on being around in case Simon needed him. “I might even be willing to come to bed with you, if you ask very nicely,” he teased, and pressed a kiss to the other man’s cheek. “But no, no staking.”

“I do like tacos -- but I’m pretty sure that if you eat too many, you get sick. Just like if you drink too much vodka.” He smiled ruefully, and rolled his eyes at Magnus’ insistence on using him as a pillow. “Whatever. But if Alec walks in here and thinks I’m making a move, I am dumping you off the side of the balcony.” He paused, eyes widening slightly. “Magnus, you haven’t slept -- all week? And broken ribs? What the hell happened?” 

One of Jace’s eyebrows shot up at the first request, then drew downward in concern as he registered the rest of the explanation. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said firmly, and reached out to cup the side of Simon’s neck. “Did Raphael mention if it was dangerous? And how long it takes to leave your system?” Despite the fact that Jace tried to keep things light between them, he cared for Simon -- he cared about him a great deal, and if he couldn’t help but be worried.

“I think if you’ve lost your vodka, you’ve probably had enough,” Jace told Magnus with an eye roll. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here in the first place -- Alec was at the Institute, and Jace had no excuse to be here. But it seemed wrong to leave Magnus here -- and drunk -- by himself if he was upset. “And do I look like a pillow to you?” He didn’t jostle the warlock, though, no matter the tone in his voice. “What’s going so wrong in your week?”

i want to do things, i think? probably short things. anyone want one?

          “Nope.” Jace popped the ‘p’ at the end of the word, purposely obnoxious. “I passed on that honor.” And was increasingly grateful that he had, as more and more problems appeared -- including the smug Seelie in front of him. “Go on in, your Highness.” Jace was good at making titles sound mocking; he’d played this game with Clave officials and Aldertree, plenty of times. And while the Seelie Queen was considerably more powerful, Jace didn’t know how to be properly cowed by anyone. He’d treated the Queen with respect before because he’d hoped she would deserve it -- and now, he knew better. And death? Been there, done that. It wasn’t so scary, anymore. “I’m sure Alec will be thrilled to see you.”

             Jace met Clary’s gaze, his smile losing some of its strain at her touch. “I probably shouldn’t be so touchy about someone giving a shit,” he said with a short chuckle, and shrugged a little. “You’re not the only one, though. I think Alec’s been trying to become my shadow. Every time I look up, he’s hovering.” He rolled his eyes, searching for the casual, teasing attitude that had always been his go-to when he was struggling. “Uh - yeah, well, it turns out that dying isn’t great for a peaceful night’s sleep,” he said with a wry chuckle. “Go figure.”

           Jace felt like an ass on top of the constant jittery feeling that had hovered over him since his return from the dead -- he knew that Clary was just worried, and it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her care. He did. It was just getting to be a little stifling, now, when he was trying to maintain his own sanity. “Yeah,” he said, with a small, crooked smile. “Surreal is a good word for it. Sorry for jumping down your throat. I’m just a little -- tired.” It was a poor excuse, but as close to the truth as he was willing to get.

           “Your Highness,” Jace greeted flatly, not bothering to hide his distaste for the woman in front of him. “Strangely, I don’t remember seeing you on the list for an invitation to the Institute today -- what brings you here? Looking to start another war? Because I don’t think anyone here is buying it. And Magnus and Alec are back together, so I don’t think you’ll have much luck in that direction, either -- but hey, good luck!” Caustic humor dripped from his every word, his disdain obvious.

           “Clary, would you just -- “ Jace’s words were snapped, short-tempered, and escaped before he could tamp down on the impulse. He managed to stop mid-sentence, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “I mean, I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to worry about me. Not dead, or dying -- just fine.”