Clockwork Heart | ✓

tredecim.

London, 1903 

James and Brooklyn had to cover each other's mouths with their hands to keep stifle their laughter as they ran through the halls of the Institute, holding hands. After Brooklyn's realization in the library and the memory of Magnus's letter that had arrived earlier--stating that he had found a lead and would possibly have an answer before the end of the week--they had agreed to go back to someone's room. James had quickly ruled out his, explaining that he had books covering his floor and that his parents could walk in, and Brooklyn had quickly added that since he and Cordelia would probably marry after she left, it would not be well for them to be in his room and have the memories of whatever would happen that night with him when he should be thinking of Cordelia.

James backed her against her door and cupped her face in one of his hands, kissing her in a loving way that set her skin on fire and made her heart pound harder. With the hand that wasn't holding his, she fumbled around and opened the door, and they quickly entered her room. She shut and locked the door behind them, looking to make sure no one saw them before she did.

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment until James, who was seated on her bed, wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her close. He kissed her again and again, and then covered every inch of bare skin on her neck and shoulders--which was a lot, since she was in the green gown that Cordelia and Lucie had chosen for her and the sleeves hung off of her shoulders.

James smiled up at her. "You're beautiful."

"So you say," she mumbled, kissing him again. They fell backwards onto the bed together, and James, golden eyes glowing, smiled up at her and kissed her again and again and again.

Brooklyn woke up the next morning lying on something very solid and very warm. She opened her eyes slowly, her eyes only able to take in pale skin and swirling black Marks. She sat up, slowly taking in the still-sleeping James Herondale as the last night's events gradually returned to her. Her cheeks felt hot and she sank further into the blankets, trying to cover her bare skin.

James let out a tiny moan and rolled on his side to face her. He opened his eyes. "Good morning." He said. "It's a good thing we didn't choose my room. My father has probably broken down the door, and I doubt he would be very happy about us lying in my bed together in this state."

"Glad to know you're still insufferable when you wake up." She said it as a joke, and he smiled.

He wrapped an arm around her waist--it felt odd, having a boy's bare arm on her bare hip--and slid her closer to him. "You don't mean that." He kissed the tip of her nose and then her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She'd never understood why people would want to kiss first thing in the morning, before they brushed their teeth, but she found it easy to ignore the taste that wasn't really there at all when it was James that she was kissing. "Have you ever done that before?"

She shook her head bashfully. "No," she said, and looked up at him through her lashes. "Have you?"

"Never." Another short, sweet kiss. "It's not considered proper around here."

"It's considered unusual for a boy to be your age and a virgin when I come from." She said.

He smirked. "Well, I'm not anymore, am I?"

She shook her head at him. "You should get dressed and get out unless you want to try helping me get into a dress. I doubt you would be much help."

"You never know..."

"I do know," she said, "and I know that you would be awful at it. I'll see you at breakfast."

He climbed out of bed and started pulling on his trousers, and he bent down and kissed her. "I love you." He said, and pulled on his shirt.

"I love you too," she said, making sure the covers hid everything below her shoulders.

He grinned. "You do realize that I've already seen everything, so there's no point in covering yourself. Right?"

She shook her head. "Just because you saw me naked does not mean that I suddenly have an excuse to not be modest, Mr. Herondale."

"Ah, you're going to be like that, Miss Mathis? I see how it is." She could see the outlines of black Marks through his shirt, Marks that she had traced with her fingers before she fell asleep. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"I love you." She said again.

He was at the door at that point, and turned to look at her. "I love you too."

Brooklyn dressed in her brown dress, since it was more modest--high collared and longer sleeved--and she didn't feel like wearing anything particularly bright, despite how many times she had looked over at the pink one as she twisted up her hair.

Brooklyn shook her head and set down the brush, and she left the room to go down to breakfast.