Post by Seek on Jul 6, 2011 2:15:33 GMT 10
Title: Fracture
Rating: PG-13
Couple/Character: Matthias Tunstall
Event: Love long jump
Words: 794
Summary: Clary wants to make a point. Mattes is reminded why some relationships can’t be pursued. And someone is injured. Not in that order. Clary/Mattes. Light suggestions.
-
“It’s just a fracture,” Clary snapped when she saw him. He’d showed up to walk her home without changing out of uniform, whistling a tune he’d heard in the marketplace.
“Watch isn’t the same without you,” Mattes said cheerfully, quite unfazed. He was used to her temper by now. “Besides, I was getting tired of Sela.” He stepped away from the mortar wall he was leaning against, and motioned – more a light shrug of his shoulders, and a faint nod of his head. “You ready to go?”
She narrowed her eyes, as if considering whether to pursue their argument further or to take the thread he’d thrown out about Sela. Finally, Clary pursed her lips and started walking. “Sela?” she wanted to know. Mattes took a moment to savour his small victory before he followed, walking briskly to catch up to her. “Slipfoot Sela?”
Mattes made a face. “The same,” he remarked dryly. “Why no one put her on Night Watch or sent her up to Unicorn, I don’t know.” He stretched out lazily, feeling bruised and aching muscles loosen and sighed as the tightness eased for a short while. Clary shot him a sidelong glance, one that lingered across his face. Probably picking up on just how much sleep he’d gotten, the bruises he’d gotten from a misjudged follow through when Sela had swung her baton.
She stopped, mid-step. Now that they’d stepped out of the pool of darkness cast by the towering walls of the alley, the cool moonlight fell on his features, and her lips parted. She reached towards him, fingers touching the yellowing bruise along his cheekbone, and gliding along to his purpling left eye.
“Oi. Don’t touch that,” he said, half-laughing, capturing her wrist in his hand. He lifted her hand away from his face. “It still hurts.”
“When did you get that?” Clary demanded. She glanced down at his uniform this time, picking up the blood-stained tear – one neat line, where the sword had cut too close for comfort this time. “What sarden happened, Mattes?” She tried to tug away; he realised he was still holding her. He let go, and she took a step forward, fingers closing around his uniform. She tugged it, frowning at the rip.
“Stakeout,” Mattes said, calmly. “We weren’t prepared. The Rat in question had one or two sweepers. A rusher got me with his sword, but I managed to hobble him.” Belatedly, he added, “It was just a glancing blow. Nothing deep. The healer just stitched it together, and put me on light duty. No tearing it open again.”
They were almost touching, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her presence against his collarbone where the lapels of his uniform peeled back. “I’m fine,” he said firmly. His fingers closed around hers. He willed her to believe him. “It’s just another job,” he murmured, “You know these things happen.”
“Sela…” Clary growled quietly, “I told you I couldn’t afford to take a day off work.” She didn’t pull away from him this time.
He didn’t know who closed the final distance first. The kiss was fierce, with all the desperation neither of them could articulate, and he wasn’t sure which of them pulled away first, either. Maybe it was both of them. In hindsight, none of these things were clear. His lips burned, and he breathed faint honeysuckle and wild rose and the fresh, clean scent of clear water.
They’d talked about this before, why they couldn’t do this. Some Dogs did that, and partnerships had been ruined that way. It was far too easy to bring what they did into the bedroom, and the bedroom out onto the street. Clary…was constant. What she wanted, in the end, was a little of what Mattes wanted: someone to come home to. And yet at the same time, he shrank away from it. Commitment. He wasn’t ready for it. Not now.
Akela and Tamsin had mentioned it. Mattes wondered if it was because they’d tried it. He’d never quite thought of his mentors in that light before, but now, some things, some of the quiet, haunted ways in which they behaved when no one was looking…it made sense.
He wondered if that was how the two of them were going to end up.
He didn’t say anything, but Clary’s fingers tightened possessively around the lapels of his tunic anyway, knuckles lightly brushing against his collarbone. Mattes shivered. Not now, she could have told him, in the same firm voice she used when arresting Rats on the street.
He ghosted a kiss across the line of her jaw, and then he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow any more. Just tonight. Now. Just the two of them, together.
It would have to be enough.
Rating: PG-13
Couple/Character: Matthias Tunstall
Event: Love long jump
Words: 794
Summary: Clary wants to make a point. Mattes is reminded why some relationships can’t be pursued. And someone is injured. Not in that order. Clary/Mattes. Light suggestions.
-
“It’s just a fracture,” Clary snapped when she saw him. He’d showed up to walk her home without changing out of uniform, whistling a tune he’d heard in the marketplace.
“Watch isn’t the same without you,” Mattes said cheerfully, quite unfazed. He was used to her temper by now. “Besides, I was getting tired of Sela.” He stepped away from the mortar wall he was leaning against, and motioned – more a light shrug of his shoulders, and a faint nod of his head. “You ready to go?”
She narrowed her eyes, as if considering whether to pursue their argument further or to take the thread he’d thrown out about Sela. Finally, Clary pursed her lips and started walking. “Sela?” she wanted to know. Mattes took a moment to savour his small victory before he followed, walking briskly to catch up to her. “Slipfoot Sela?”
Mattes made a face. “The same,” he remarked dryly. “Why no one put her on Night Watch or sent her up to Unicorn, I don’t know.” He stretched out lazily, feeling bruised and aching muscles loosen and sighed as the tightness eased for a short while. Clary shot him a sidelong glance, one that lingered across his face. Probably picking up on just how much sleep he’d gotten, the bruises he’d gotten from a misjudged follow through when Sela had swung her baton.
She stopped, mid-step. Now that they’d stepped out of the pool of darkness cast by the towering walls of the alley, the cool moonlight fell on his features, and her lips parted. She reached towards him, fingers touching the yellowing bruise along his cheekbone, and gliding along to his purpling left eye.
“Oi. Don’t touch that,” he said, half-laughing, capturing her wrist in his hand. He lifted her hand away from his face. “It still hurts.”
“When did you get that?” Clary demanded. She glanced down at his uniform this time, picking up the blood-stained tear – one neat line, where the sword had cut too close for comfort this time. “What sarden happened, Mattes?” She tried to tug away; he realised he was still holding her. He let go, and she took a step forward, fingers closing around his uniform. She tugged it, frowning at the rip.
“Stakeout,” Mattes said, calmly. “We weren’t prepared. The Rat in question had one or two sweepers. A rusher got me with his sword, but I managed to hobble him.” Belatedly, he added, “It was just a glancing blow. Nothing deep. The healer just stitched it together, and put me on light duty. No tearing it open again.”
They were almost touching, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her presence against his collarbone where the lapels of his uniform peeled back. “I’m fine,” he said firmly. His fingers closed around hers. He willed her to believe him. “It’s just another job,” he murmured, “You know these things happen.”
“Sela…” Clary growled quietly, “I told you I couldn’t afford to take a day off work.” She didn’t pull away from him this time.
He didn’t know who closed the final distance first. The kiss was fierce, with all the desperation neither of them could articulate, and he wasn’t sure which of them pulled away first, either. Maybe it was both of them. In hindsight, none of these things were clear. His lips burned, and he breathed faint honeysuckle and wild rose and the fresh, clean scent of clear water.
They’d talked about this before, why they couldn’t do this. Some Dogs did that, and partnerships had been ruined that way. It was far too easy to bring what they did into the bedroom, and the bedroom out onto the street. Clary…was constant. What she wanted, in the end, was a little of what Mattes wanted: someone to come home to. And yet at the same time, he shrank away from it. Commitment. He wasn’t ready for it. Not now.
Akela and Tamsin had mentioned it. Mattes wondered if it was because they’d tried it. He’d never quite thought of his mentors in that light before, but now, some things, some of the quiet, haunted ways in which they behaved when no one was looking…it made sense.
He wondered if that was how the two of them were going to end up.
He didn’t say anything, but Clary’s fingers tightened possessively around the lapels of his tunic anyway, knuckles lightly brushing against his collarbone. Mattes shivered. Not now, she could have told him, in the same firm voice she used when arresting Rats on the street.
He ghosted a kiss across the line of her jaw, and then he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow any more. Just tonight. Now. Just the two of them, together.
It would have to be enough.