Fic: Life Fix

[interpretthis]

Title: Life Fix

Author: interpretthis

Fandom: The Mortal Instruments

Pairing: Hodge/Clary

Rating: Mature

Genre: Het

Warnings: Statutoryness.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Cassie Clare.
Summary: Clary’s not the only one desperate for warmth.

Notes: Well it doesn’t look as though this Fandom has much of a base yet, but Cassie’s characters are too wonderfully shippable to avoid having fun with. Oh, and just to mention, I'm not entirely clear on how old Hodge is supposed to be, but I was picturing a prematurely-old, Remus Lupin sort of guy, so I don't mean to squick anyone who thought otherwise. X-posted to the newly created mortal_fic.

 

It was a cold night. Clary woke from broken dream after dream – sparse flashes of her innermost thoughts – as a particularly violent shiver raked her core from head to toe. Her eyes flew open in the bluish half-light of her room at the Institute to glare at the ceiling, the cold sparking her frustration with its icy flint. She groaned as she envisioned a steaming cup of cocoa, laid out in front of the library’s crackling fire, its pseudo-smell enticing even from behind her eyelids. She threw the covers back quickly, stuffing her feet deep into the plush toes of her slippers as she grabbed the thin, red robe from the end of her bed to swing over her goose-pimpled shoulders. She shuffled across the room, out the door and into the long, door-lined corridor of the Institute.

She didn’t know what she expected to find in the library – definitely not a welcoming mug of hot chocolate – but the comfortable glow of the flames beckoned to her from between the shelves, their dim conflagration reflected in the highly polished oak of the floorboards. She wound her way into the large room’s maze, reveling in the way the rising temperature sank its way into her bones like honey as she let her fingertips linger on the thick spines of heavy, age-old volumes. She reached the end of the center row and turned to the fire, surprised to see she wasn’t the only one courting its warmth.

It was a moment before she realized Hodge was shaking. Not the violent shake induced by electric shock, nor the softer one brought on by incessant cold, but a steady, introversive twinge of the shoulders that made Clary’s heart sink. She contemplated leaving, going back to her cold bed and riding out the night, frozen body and mind, but something about him – the way, perhaps, he buried his face in his hands, or the taut curve of his tweed jacket, pulled in across his shoulders as he folded in on himself – drew her forward. She stepped around the back of the sofa soft as a ghost, her shadow splaying out across the hardwood to catch his attention where the light spilled through between the cracks in his fingers. Hodge righted himself hastily, lowering his hands to grab the throw pillow beside him and grip it, almost unconsciously, against his chest.

“Clary,” his voice shook as he took her in, the firelight waxing opaque across the lenses of his glasses. “What are you doing here?”

“Um…I was cold.” It sounded lame in the face of the bigger picture. Clary noticed a tear settling into the corner of Hodge’s lips with a jolt. “Are you…alright?” She ran through a quick mental face-meet-palm before lowering herself onto the cushion beside him. Of course he wasn’t alright.

Hodge looked from her face to the flames, sinking in on himself again. Clary reached toward him instinctively, fully aware of his proximity and the palpable tension forged by his unspoken anguish and her intrusion. She ended up with her arms around his shoulders, his head resting in the crook of her neck as fresh, dry sobs overcame him, racking out with all the force of a cascade let loose after the failure of a dam. She felt his arms snake around her, clutching her near, almost like a child grasping for its mother but much, much more visceral and physical and real. The feel of the man around her, broken and needy, caught her in the moment as nothing had before, erasing past and future in one fell swoop, leaving only her. And him. And the fire and despair and warmth, oh so warm, and everythingeverthingeverthing, nothing at all and his sobs died away and he lifted his head and she didn’t know what made her do it, but it she did and her lips were on his and the world snapped.

It wasn’t a clean break. The pieces dashed around in her mind, screaming, imploring, encouraging, confusing. She felt him gasp against her lips and she may have gasped too, but that particular, essential piece of her consciousness had cracked with the world, so she did not know. He fell back against the pillow and she fell too, following him down to press their lips together again, melding and flushing and warm and oh so good. Hodge groaned and pushed the sleeves of her robe down to bare her shoulders as she removed his glasses, exposing the brilliant blue of his eyes, dashed with gold in the firelight. The flames dulled the masking contours of his face, allowing a handsome, boyish man to show through the premature wrinkles and soft streaks of gray in his brown hair. Clary pushed the flaps of his tweed jacket away, working down the row of buttons to expose his thin torso. His hands held her shoulders lightly, almost helplessly, as he watched her above him, entranced. She met his eyes briefly, her cheeks flushing a brilliant red, as she lowered his slacks to bunch against his ankles.

“Clary.” She leaned across him, supporting herself on her elbows to meet his eyes. They were brimmed with sadness. She kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Shh. It’s gonna be alright.” She hated when people said that. She gave him another kiss, only partly to avoid looking into his eyes, and let her hand trail between them to close around his cock. Hodge hissed, his head jutting back into the pillow, eyelids squeezed shut over desperation and despair. Clary moved her hand slowly at first, watching him in the firelight. He was beautiful like rain was beautiful. Like winter. Like death. He whimpered and bucked against her and she sped up, palm warm against his hardness, caressing faster and faster as his moans grew more desperate, hands shaking on her shoulders, eyes flashing madly behind their lids, breaths coming in feverish pants.

He exploded, crashing into the abyss, coming apart with a sobbing groan, his fingers tightening against her shoulders. He clutched her to him and she went willingly, grabbing him up in her arms and holding tight, his uneven breaths fanning out softly against her hair.

There were many things to say and yet no room for them to be said. Clary let a comfortable darkness overtake her as the flames sank to embers, glowing softly amongst the ashes. She thought briefly back to that cup of chocolate as she nudged her cheek against Hodge’s chest, the velvety brush of upholstery against her bare shoulder. So far away now. And in the end, she hadn’t needed it.

-------fin--------

  

Comments

[interpretthis.livejournal.com]

Oops! Yeah, I was planning some major post on how fabulous her first book (City of Bones) is, but I had to get to the fic first, I'm afraid. But really. It's got demons and vampires and werewolves and ten gazillion hot men and the best thing? I could ship virtually anybody with virtually anybody else and be happy. Now that is just ♥.

Glad you liked it --- go read it!

[nitro26.livejournal.com]

Wow, if someone asked me about Hodge/Clary, I'd think they were nuts. But you actually made the idea really appealing. I love your style of writing, the details are amazing. I can totally visualize everything you wrote.

I hope to read more MI fic by you in the future *coughalec/jacecough* XD Great job! =)

[interpretthis.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I tend to be crazed and manage to fix myself on the weirdest ships possible. So thanks very much for the comment; I'm glad you enjoyed it!

And oh yes there will be Alec/Jace.

Lots.

♥

[nitro26.livejournal.com]

Awesome, can't wait! ;D