#willowsmarika

When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love.

If there was one thing Alec Lightwood was sure about, it was that his parabatai was most definitely not in love with him.

He told it to himself again, either way, as he ran his fingertips down snowy white feathers. He barely touched them, tweaking the odd ones back to place, and brushing the plumes into the right direction, slowly bringing the wings that had been laid out in front of him back to impeccable. Just as his hand splayed out and his thumb worked down the center, where they met his spine, Jace gave a soft shudder and Alec had to bite on his lip.

They were in silence. They usually were whenever they did this, once every two weeks. Jace didn’t like to talk about the shudders, or the quiet way his back would arch sometimes, and his eyes would close and lips part. So they didn’t. Alec felt as though Jace’s wings --- magnificently white, and uncommon for a shadowhunter --- were the strings of his entire body, and as Alec groomed them patiently, carefully, each brush of fingers and tug played a different note directly into Jace’s bones. Alec had never felt specially artistic (or at all), but every once two weeks, he felt like a concertmaster, creating music that only Jace could hear, or dance to.

He never touched more than he should. Oh, he wanted to, but that was exactly the reason why he couldn’t. Jace’s reactions were pure and untainted and Alec thoughts weren’t, so he had to make sure none of his touches would ever stray towards the latter. He was efficient and gentle, kept his distance, cursing inside his head whenever he had to dive in more than he’d planned to. Necessity that at times would add to Jace’s reactions a soft muffled whine that Alec felt bitten onto his own bottom lip from the sheer strength Jace was using to keep it in.

And if every once in a while, when they were done, Jace would be lax and loose, and fall asleep on his bed, and if he didn’t seem to mind when Alec lied besides him. And if by chance he ended up with his face pressed onto Alec’s chest. Then Alec knew that was nothing but the bruised, underfed, boy still inside of Jace stripped bare by physical contact overload, and he would put his arms around him and keep him safe for as long as he needed to until he found his walls again.

                                       o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 When the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there’s no one there to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love.

If there was one thing Alec Lightwood was sure about, it was that his parabatai was most definitely not in love with him.

He told it to himself again, either way, while Jace’s laughter blasted into his ears like rumbling thunder, shaking his bones, and the wind of his flight ruffled Alec’s already messy black-blue feathers when Jace dived over and then under him. His white wings looked golden in the afternoon sun as he flew away, as swift as any bird of prey, and ten times as sublime to watch.

It was the same every flight training, three times a week. They’d start with the complex techniques, testing each other strengths with weapons and flight gear or just bare hands and wings at strike. Alec would waste time convincing Jace yet again that he wasn’t going to practice moving targets on him, not even to win a bet, no matter how ridiculously outrageous the prize. And on the hand-to-hand he would almost get it, just before his parabatai turned tables as he tended to do, and ended it with a flashing smirk on his running mouth. Then they’d switch to flow, speed, and accuracy tests, one of them standing on the roof while critiquing the other’s moves in the air, both always thinking the other wasn’t being hard enough on them.

And sometimes, if Izzy hadn’t joined them by the time it was over, and the air was clear, when their breaths were heavy and their wings had just started to strain, they’d escape. They’d fly much further away from the Institute’s pinnacles then Hodge had instructed them to, and led by games and will, their technique and training would take a backseat to fun and lighthearted dares as they drew dark and light circles on the air. And on those days, if it just so happened that maybe, while they circled and explored New York’s skies, Jace’s flight moves were a little more flirtatious than Jace probably realized, that was nothing more than his parabatai’s prerogative.

Jace had always flirted for breathing. And if his wing tips brushed Alec’s ankle at times, shooting liquid heat up his legs; or he teased Alec just to get him chasing with a smile on his face; or smirked as he flew way too close for safety and got Alec’s heart pounding, it just meant that Jace was in a good mood, and nothing else. Jace Wayland was the last nephilim who’d get involved in actual mating flights, and the world would burn before he got anywhere near doing one of those for Alec.

So instead of blushing too much and drawing a blank, Alec would easily smirk and tease him right back, dark wings creating blasts that sent his parabatai spiraling like a gold coin in the sky. Both of them would enter a dance in which each of their dangerous motions, arches, and acrobatics were carefully timed by a decade of practice and familiar ease, a routine they’d been perfecting from the moment they’d met. A fight from the outside, as though they were trying to blow the other right off the air, a perfect whirlwind from where Alec was standing, as they always managed to miss one another just in time. Their powerful wings turning, diving, and climbing in sync until every thought faded away and Alec forgot he was ever apart from Jace and they weren’t as physically one as they felt in every other aspect.

And once they couldn’t fly anymore, and sat together at the nearest rooftop, if Jace would scoot closer against his spread wing to protect from the cold of the setting sun, then Alec would just wrap it around him and let his parabatai know he wasn’t going anywhere. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t stay that connected all the time. He was never going anywhere. No matter how many times the voice inside of Jace told him so, no matter how many nights washed silver over them and made their bones shiver, Alec was never leaving him. And he’d tell him in every way, through as many flight sessions, as he ever needed him to.

                                        o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 I know you haven’t made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong. I’ve known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in my mind where you belong.

 If there was one thing Alec Lightwood was sure about, it was that his parabatai was most definitely not in love with him.

He told it to himself again, either way, as the weight of Jace’s head on his thigh felt warm and familiar, while they sat together on the couch --- Jace stretched over it, and his own feet up the coffee table ---- and read demonology books.

He repeated it in his head whenever Jace would read out lout a particularly nasty part and amuse himself with his own ridiculous jokes. His nape brushing against Alec’s twitching thigh muscle as laughter rocked his body, and sparking fluttery heat in Alec’s stomach. He’d say it over and over as he smiled down at him, feeling like a perfect dopey idiot, and the sight of Jace so relaxed, reminded him of the boy that’d never thought loving that face could make him bad. He’d tell it to himself especially when his fingers would brush the ends of Jace’s hair and Jace wouldn’t move away, rather grin back at him and wink, as though getting Alec to laugh or smile with him had been his one end goal all along.

He told it again, expressively, when at times Jace would fall asleep, spent after a particularly bad night of terrors and as though Alec’s lap was his only safe haven, and he would barely breathe for as long as it took for the lines of weariness on his parabatai’s forehead to clear out.

                                        o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue. I’d go crawling down the avenue. No, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make you feel my love.

 If there was one thing Alec Lightwood was sure about, it was that his parabatai was most definitely not in love with him.

He told it to himself again, either way, as they sat too close together at their favorite Taki’s booth, like usual, and Jace ranted on about one of his late conquests (or was it one of the old ones just all over again? Alec wasn’t sure). His words blurring together while every movement he made as he talked brushed against Alec, Jace being pressed heels to shoulders to him and casually eating off the same plate, because he hadn’t felt like making an entire order just for himself.

He reminded himself as Jace’s fresh scent of soap and his favorite shampoo tickled his nose and watered his mouth, and once again when his breath would raise painful goosebumps on Alec’s recently shaved skin, his heart welcoming the irritation with a rush of blood to his cheeks. He particularly plundered the words into his head whenever Jace would tease him for not listening, kicking at his ankle, and when sometimes he’d leave their feet hooked together like that. The pitiful look Izzy would offer something he ignored with ease.

He supposed the way Jace openly flirted with the waitress every single time could be enough of a red flag, if it weren’t him the one to take Jace home when they were finished. And when Iz would leave them for better plans, Jace’s hand and arm would be brushing his all the way back to the Institute, and if Alec was lucky, right into his bedroom. Where they’d conjecture on his bed about how long it’d take for Izzy to come home that night, and if she’d make her date cry before it was over.

Alec’s tongue would still taste of the apples they’d share for dessert, even after brushing his teeth and dozing off. The back of his eyelids dancing with soft gold, at the thought of Jace’s warm eyes as he wished him good night before leaving.

                                        o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 Oh, the storms are raging on the rolling sea, and on the highway of regret.

 If there was one thing Alec Lightwood was sure about, it was that his parabatai was most definitely not in love with him.

He told it to himself again, either way, fervently as Jace’s lips of whiskey and desperation, crashed against his own, and Jace’s hands curled tight onto the collar of his jacket, half pulling him down, half keeping himself up as he kissed him way too hard to be of any good. He prayed it in his head like a mantra when Jace’s teeth found his throat and his strength pushed Alec against the nearest wall, the intricate ornaments of the Institute digging into Alec’s spine.

He said it out loud, even, as he tried to pull him back by his golden hair, but the words choked in his mouth when Jace’s peppered his face, eyelids, nose and mouth, promising, swearing on the angel and the whole heavenly cast that it was just this once, that he just wanted to know it once. Though what was it, Alec couldn’t get out of him.

So even as he swore, himself, that he knew, that those words were etched onto his skin for good, he cradled Jace’s desperation with his love, and took his fear with bare hands as he guided him into an actual kiss as best as his inexperience could. And even when his tongue had drunk enough of the alcohol to lap up Jace’s taste underneath, and everywhere his fingertips touched felt through the bond like pressing grateful relief onto Jace’s aching skin, he vowed he wouldn’t forget.

Jace didn’t love him like that. And Alec knew it as the bond took him as far as the comfort of Jace’s clean sheets and chamomile smelling pillows, but wasn’t enough to push his fingers to where his clothes would come undone. Jace didn’t love him like that. And Alec knew it as he flipped them over, instead, covering Jace’s body with his own, safe from every bad thing in that world, and kissed him as hard, as deep, and as long as it took to breathe into him enough love to keep him safe from his inner monsters just the same.

Jace didn’t love him like that. And Alec weaved the words into his hair with his fingertips, as Jace finally exhausted himself and fell asleep with reddened lips pressed against Alec’s thrumming pulse on his throat. Jace didn’t love him like that. And Alec drank it in with the smell of his leather jacket and the brush of his rough jeans, as his eyes stayed on the ceiling for hours after Jace’s breathing had evened out, and his hands had tired of running lullabies over him. Jace didn’t love him like that, but it didn’t matter, because that was enough, the peace that slowly replaced the overwhelming despair that had flowed through the bond before, was enough. Jace was more than enough.

                                        o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 The winds of change are blowing wild and free. You ain’t seen nothing like me yet.

If there was one thing Alec Lightwood was sure about, it was that his parabatai was most definitely not in love with him.

He told it to himself again, either way, dryly, as the burning tip of his stele ran down Jace’s skin and marked his parabatai in one of the most intimate ways possible for a shadowhunter. As they stood inside his room, shirtless and focused, each a stele in hand, and eyes on their work, he forced himself to remember the way Jace’s eyes had looked when they met her. He repeated the words in his head as he recalled Jace offering the mundane his special trust me smiles, that he’d always thought were kept for him, and the way his eyes glinted with admiration when she talked.

He said it to himself again, as neither of them flinched at the sting of the steles, but for the slight flicker of wings, and felt the power waving off their bond and the heat in their parabatai runes as they fed each of their markings on each other with enhanced angelic energy. He thought them again, as they finished and Jace asked if he was ready. And when their eyes met for the longest minute of his life, neither of them saying a word, as hands rested at their side and their runes almost glowed, reddened skin blazing, in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

He reminded himself one last time as he nodded, once he could tear his eyes from Jace’s and from the even more attractive red of his mouth. And his mind flowed with it as they left for their stupid, stupid, plan, after gearing up and joining Izzy and the redhead. And he realized once again as he shoved Jace aside and launched himself towards Abaddon that their vows rose above. And even if those words would follow him to his grave, it didn’t make a real difference when it came down to it. His place was still would be by Jace’s side. No matter whom Jace’d end up choosing to let breakthrough into his guarded heart.