Work Text:
Clary had always dreamed of having her art exhibited at an art gallery. She had talked about it ever since she was hold enough to hold a pencil and come up with ideas to put down on paper. If there was one thing she wanted in life, it was to share her art with the world.
Which was why her first opening night at a gallery was a huge deal. She had been giving classes to children for the better part of five years, and her bosses had finally held up their end of the bargain by offering her the perfect opportunity. And now here she was, standing in a room full of her art, surrounded by people who valued her work almost as much as she does.
She had already been congratulated by dozens of fellow artists and passionate patrons alike. It was a heady feeling, as well as a terrifying one. She had no idea how to handle their compliments and questions and demands and whatnot. She had basically run away from the crowd to hide out in a corner because of how overwhelming the experience was turning out to be.
It wasn’t that she disliked the gallery, in fact she loved it – and had ever since she had started working there. It was just that there were a lot of people, and all of them were interested in her for once. She wasn’t used to that, wasn’t used to being the centre of attention. Her mother had told her it would take some time to stop being so panicked during showings, but she didn’t have that sort of time.
She needed to be great now, not in five months. She needed people to like her immediately and not think of her as an incompetent artist who couldn’t handle social interactions.
She breathed in deeply, turning back towards the main group of people in the room. From afar, they weren’t too intimidating. They were smiling and talking and admiring her works, and Clary knew there was nothing to be afraid of. She also knew that, from up close, the talking turned into a loud buzzing noise inside her brain and the smiles grated on her frayed nerves.
Clary had never been happier about an event, but she had also never been so anxious. She was quite sure that if someone were to approach her rig-
“Hello there.”
Clary squealed loudly and flinched away from the sudden voice, spinning around to face whomever had just scared the living daylights out of her. She had already opened her mouth, ready to scream at the person behind her, but she was stopped in her tracks by the sheer beauty of the woman she came face to face with.
Glossy blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a bright, mischievous smile; the woman looked like an angel, and Clary wasn’t sure what to do with herself. A blush was rising high on her cheeks and she knew she looked more like an unattractive fish than the usually chipper woman her friends and family loved.
Way to make a good first impression on a ridiculously attractive human being.
“Um, hello?” She finally greeted, realising the blonde had been waiting for her to speak up. “I’m sorry, you startled me a little back there. Did you want something, or are you just catching a break from all of… that?”
“Neither, really,” the woman shrugged, leaning against the wall furthest from the art and people. “I’m just accompanying someone tonight, and this isn’t really my scene. She’s the social butterfly; I’m here to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Clary smiled even as her heart deflated a little bit. Of course this beautiful woman was already taken, of course she already had someone in her life. Once again, Clary was painfully reminded that she was as alone as ever. Sure, she had her mom and step-dad and even her somewhat-okay brother who talked to her once in a while, but it wasn’t the same thing.
The blonde was staring into the group of people with a loving look in her eyes and Clary knew that, whoever this woman was, she was something special. She just wished she stopped meeting all these people in happy relationships when she was still single and quite unhappy in her personal life.
“She’s a lucky girl,” Clary murmured, wringing her fingers together nervously. She wasn’t good at talking to people, especially not stunning and taken women who smiled at her so kindly. “I mean, I would give a lot to have someone who watched my back the same way you do hers. You guys must really love each other, huh? Not- not that it’s any of my business, of course.”
“We really do,” the blonde answered, completely disregarding Clary’s last statement. “Our relationship hasn’t always been simple, but it’s always been worth it. Now, I told you what I’m doing hidden away in this corner, what about you? Was the crowd too much for you?”
“Something like that,” Clary chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m the host, actually. Or at least, the artist. Everyone’s been hounding me with questions and compliments and all of that, and I just… It’s a lot. I needed to take a step back from the spotlight, and what better place to do that than the darkest corner of the room?”
“It was a great choice, really,” the blonde grinned. “After all, I wouldn’t have met you otherwise. And I promise, no one can see you from where they are; I checked.”
“Nice to know,” Clary replied, laughing lightly. “So, what do you think of the art? Not that I’m fishing for compliments, I’m just… curious. You told me this wasn’t your thing, but I hope you’re not completely bored by all of my paintings. Maybe I should have planned something else. What’s your scene; music? Dancing? A book club, maybe?”
“All of the above?” The blond suggested, smirking at Clary. “And I never said art wasn’t my thing. In fact, I think you’re an incredibly talented painter. You’re clearly not afraid to try different things, and the colour palettes are wonderful. I was thinking of buying something, as long as Isabelle doesn’t mind adding a few frames to our busy apartment.”
“Oh,” Clary murmured, blushing brightly. Obviously, she had been hoping for an answer along those lines, but it was still good to know the woman appreciated her art. It would have been a lot harder to like the blonde if she had criticised Clary’s pride and joy.
Although, on second thought, perhaps that wouldn’t have been a bad thing, given that this woman was already dating someone.
“And this Isabelle of yours,” Clary cleared her throat, trying very hard to remember that this blonde and her mysterious Isabelle were a couple. “Does she like art? Or is she just here for the social aspect of things? I know some people come here to mingle or whatever, and if she’s an artist that would be a smart move.”
“An artist?” The blonde pressed her lips together as though she was trying to hold back a laugh. “Oh no, far from it. I love Isabelle with my entire heart and soul, but she doesn’t have a creative bone in her body. Or, she does, but not the same kind as you. However, she likes pretty things. We both do, actually.”
Clary ducked her head and smiled, strangely pleased by that information. Something about the blonde’s tone told Clary that she was talking about a lot more than the paintings, and it made her stomach fuzzy and her heart warm in ways she hadn’t been aware they could be.
A shadow appeared behind Clary and she hastily cleared her throat, spinning around and forcing a less genuine smile onto her face. She should have known one of the patrons would approach her eventually and ask her to join the party again. She wouldn’t have minded earlier, but now that she had found the blonde… Well, she was reluctant to leave her. Even if the woman was in a happy relationship, Clary could use a new friend.
“Lydia, there you are!”
Clary’s eyebrows rose as the brunette behind her completely ignored her, going straight for the blonde woman – Lydia – instead. Clary’s conversation partner rolled her eyes fondly at the stranger and the redhead immediately understood what was going on. This was the infamous Isabelle.
“Everyone out there is so boring, Lydia,” the brunette pouted. Something like understanding flashed in Lydia’s eyes, and Clary wondered what that was about. The two women shared a heavy look before Lydia nodded minutely and turned back towards Clary.
“There’s been a change of plans,” she explained. “Isabelle was looking for… a friend, but none of the people out there know where he is.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Clary frowned, biting at her bottom lip. “Does that mean you’ll be leaving? Not that you’re not allowed to, but- I just mean that I liked talking to you and I- Well, maybe Isabelle could join us? It’s not like anyone’s really missing me; they’re here for the art, not the artist.”
“Yes well, people tend to miss the most important things in life,” Lydia beamed, winking at Clary. “Oh love, let me introduce you. This is Clary Fray, artist extraordinaire and all around very nice person. And this is Isabelle Lightwood, my girlfriend and partner in crime.”
Another look passed between Lydia and Isabelle. The brunette’s eyebrows were raised questioningly, but a single shrug and nod from Lydia was enough to transform her confusion into exasperation and love.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Isabelle said, extending a hand for Clary to take. The redhead did so but almost jumped back when the brunette twisted her hand around and lay a kiss onto it. When her lips left Clary’s skin, the redhead was sure her face was about the same colour as her hair. “Any friend of Lydia’s is a friend of mine. Especially when her friend happens to be beautiful, talented, and precisely my type.”
Clary choked on air, unsure if she had heard things correctly or if her ears were playing tricks on her – it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. She had to have imagined it, because there was no way Isabelle, this absolutely gorgeous human being who was already dating a stunning woman like Lydia, had just called Clary her ‘type’.
“Don’t scare her off, princess,” the blonde chuckled. Clary almost melted at the nickname, because of course they called each other sweet things. Clary had been a fool to think they couldn’t get any more adorable. “What Isabelle means is that we’d love to hang out with you again sometime soon. Unfortunately we can’t really stay here long because of work, but we’re always willing to make time for people as interesting as you.”
“Really?” Clary gaped, looking between the two women disbelievingly. “But we- We don’t even know each other.”
“All the more reason to go out and get to know each other,” Isabelle pointed out, wrapping an arm around Lydia’s waist. “You don’t have to say yes, but it would mean a lot to us if you accepted.”
“Right,” Clary murmured, still feeling like she was missing something. “Of course I’ll go out with you guys sometime! Just tell me when you’re free and-”
“Great!” Lydia exclaimed. “Well, we need to go, but we’ll be in touch soon!”
The two women were gone before Clary had the time to finish speaking.
“- let me give you my phone number…”
She sighed heavily, cursing herself internally for believing that the coupe actually wanted to see her again. She should have known they had just wanted to be polite; nothing more than that. She would probably never see them again, yet she knew she would be dreaming about the two insanely hot women for weeks – if not months.
Foolish Clary, always jumping to conclusions and assuming everyone had good intentions. When would she finally learn that the world wasn’t always a nice place to live in? When would she learn that gorgeous women would never want anything to do with her?
She spent the rest of the night listless, pretending to listen to everyone who complimented her and asked her about her art. She answered as best as possible, hoping no one noticed how dejected she was. She had been planning on building up her reputation as a cheerful artist who always had smiles to spare, but she wasn’t doing a great job at that so far.
Her boss, who was in charge of the exhibition, didn’t say anything about her strange behaviour, but Clary knew she would probably be lectured about proper attitude later. Not that she cared; she would get over herself soon enough. She just needed to get through this one evening. She promised herself she would do better the next time around, when she wasn’t as nervous or prone to talking to beautiful strangers.
“Well, that was something.”
Her boss had joined her once everyone had left the gallery, and Clary almost snorted at the understatement. Dot was a friend of sorts, so Clary knew she wouldn’t be too harsh on the redhead for failing spectacularly, but a hint of disappointment was inevitable
“I’m sorry for-”
“Great job today, Fray,” Dot cut her off, smirking at Clary. “I never expected your first showing to go so well.”
“What- What do you mean?” Clary asked, frowning. Surely, no one had bought her art; Clary had been a disaster all through the night. “I did a horrible job.”
“Far from it,” Dot chuckled. “Those two women you talked to for half the evening? Turns out they’ve got taste as well as plenty of money to spare. They bought out three quarters of your paintings, and you’re going to get a hefty sum for them. They weren’t afraid to tip, believe me.”
“Who-” Clary started, stopping herself as she realised who Dot was talking about. “Oh, but I thought… Did they say anything else when they payed, or did they just leave?”
“Pretty women, aren’t they?” Dot answered, laughing when Clary shot her a playful glare. “Alright, no need to get all huffy and pouty with me. They gave me their names – Isabelle and Lydia – and made me promise to give you their phone numbers. Any particular reason why they would have done that?”
Clary blushed furiously but didn’t say anything else, too busy thinking about the implication behind Dot’s statement. Maybe Isabelle and Lydia had been serious about meeting up. And if she was right, there was more to this than a need for friendship.
After all, buying her art had been a very romantic gesture.
Clary would have to get back to them soon. She wasn’t sure why she liked these two women so much – they were already dating, for heaven’s sake – but something had sparked between them and she wasn’t ready to let it go.
And if she got rejected, well, at least she would have tried.