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The thing is, research is genuinely how it starts. Helen is--she’s smart, terrifyingly so, and when she stops worrying so much about making the right impression, she rambles so very endearingly about whatever it is she’s researching at the moment that Aline doesn’t even really care that she can only understand maybe half of it. It’s worth it just to see Helen light up, to see her bright eyes and her hands sketching out complex equations in midair. To see when she starts shoving her hair behind her ears unthinkingly, without even bothering to worry about hiding them.
"I’m not ashamed," she told Aline once, defensive. "I just don’t need to listen to people whisper about me."
It’s something Aline gets a little more than she wants to, for a few reasons.
She’s not even actually sure who makes the first move. They’ve both been dancing around it for weeks now, sitting closer than they need to in the library, in the mess hall, finding excuses to meet over the most trivial matters. It’s been weeks since Aline has actually needed anything Helen is working on for one of her reports, but still, somehow. Somehow she always manages to find a way to carve time out of her day to see her.
She knows what it means for her; she’s not completely oblivious, after all. But Helen--that’s a different story. Helen has had boyfriends before. And just because she leans into Aline’s space when they talk and blushes when their hands brush and brings her coffee after Council meetings that drag on and on and on--it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
It could. She hopes it does. But it could just as easily be an awkward, lonely (beautiful) woman seeking out friendship in a world that has no love for her. Aline isn’t going to push. She isn’t.
Which means that she’s still not entirely sure how she ended up sitting on one of the low tables in the Library of Alicante with Helen straddling her lap and kissing her mouth, hands tangled in her hair, books and paperwork strewn across the floor beneath them. Helen’s body is warm and sturdy beneath her hands, the curve of her hips made for touching, and she smells like leather and clean sweat and her hands are cupping Aline’s jaw just a little too hard, like she’s afraid to let her go.
The Library is pretty much empty this time of night, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible for someone to wander by and catch them like this. Aline thinks this when Helen pushes her hair back to kiss below her ear, and she thinks it when her hands work up under the hem of Helen’s shirt, and she thinks it when Helen’s breath hitches against her mouth and she feels arousal settle like a low thrum in the pit of her stomach.
“We should—” she manages. “Get out of here.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Helen breathes, and kisses her again.
“I mean it,” Aline says, and she definitely intends to push back a little, put some space between them, but her hands settle on Helen’s trim waist and she ends up just holding on. “We should—”
There’s an echoing crash somewhere in the distance, and the lights flicker. Helen straightens in her lap. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” The lights are back on, but there’s a weird quality to them, thinned out, like there are sudden shadows hiding in the edges of the room. It makes a needle of genuine fear slice up through the warm haze, clearing her thoughts. She reaches for her seraph blade, feels it sing to life in her hand. Helen does the same. “It sounded almost like…”
There are sudden quick footsteps in the hallway, and a dark figure appears in the door. Before either of them can think to disentangle themselves, it resolves into the shape of Alec Lightwood. He glances over them, taking in their general state of dishabille, and raises his eyebrows briefly. Aline resists the urge to blush. Of all the people who could have caught them like this, he’s probably one of the better options, and she’s suddenly pretty sure that they all have bigger problems anyway.
Lightwood’s next words confirm it. “The demon towers have fallen. Alicante is under attack.”
Aline surges up to her feet, pulling Helen with her; she doesn’t even bother to tug her clothes back in order. Already her mind is sinking into the complex web of logistics and strategy. They’ll need to muster all able-bodied shadowhunters—
“We need to get the noncombatants to shelter,” Helen says immediately, and Lightwood nods.
“Yeah, we’re working on it. Aline?”
“The rosters are in my mom’s office—”
“I already talked to Jia. She’s calling the troops.”
“Then we need to get down there,” Aline says. Lightwood nods sharply and starts out into the corridor as the alarms start to go off in eerie swoops of sound. Aline follows him, and Helen comes up beside her, matches pace, and after a moment, reaches for her hand.