Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland

Clary had always been observant. It went with being an artist, she reckoned. The world was full of beautiful things, and she wanted to capture them whenever she could. If not on paper then at least to memory.

Still, she'd never thought of herself as a voyeur – and yet, when she heard a tell-tale gasp through a half-open door, she found herself being drawn towards it, forgetting all about the hot chocolate she'd been in search of.

Later, Alec put the blame squarely on Jace. It was usually true, but this time, it was Alec’s arrow that grazed the weird-looking purple flower, causing a shower of golden pollen to erupt from it, coating Jace from head to toe.

When Jace entered the Hunter's Moon, it immediately became clear why Maia had called him. Giving the bartender a grateful nod, he walked over to where his parabatai was standing. Alec was propped up against a counter, holding himself upright, and the look in his eyes as he noticed Jace approaching was unfocused and dazed.

Something was wrong with Jace. Alec could feel it.

He woke up in a strange room, finding a tall, dark-haired guy sprawled in a chair next to the bed, half-asleep at an uncomfortable-looking angle. The smile that spread on his face felt like muscle memory, as did the teasing tone in his voice when he asked, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the bed instead of next to it?”

Jace hadn’t meant to kiss Alec.