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It’s very late when Lydia hears a knock at her door.
She makes her way across the room in a haze of tiredness and frustration, but her rebuke dies on the tip of her tongue the moment she opens the door.
She blinks.
Isabelle Lightwood blinks back at her.
Her wide eyes are clouded, her hair disheveled, and she’s leaning slightly against the wall, looking at Lydia with a small, playful smile on her red lips.
Lydia blinks again, “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe just a little bit.”
Lydia frowns, looking around the otherwise empty hallway, and- okay. She can handle this.
She sighs as she closes the door to her bedroom and folds her arms around the other woman, guiding them towards Isabelle’s room, “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Isabelle pouts, “That’s so boring though.”
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night, don’t you?”
“Not nearly enough,” Isabelle counters, “That’s why I came to you.”
Lydia’s stomach does a little flip at that, and she chooses to ignore it. Instead, she laughs derisively, “I don’t think I should be very high on your list if you’re looking for excitement.”
“You’re the most exciting person here,” Isabelle says, and Lydia feels like she might be dreaming.
They fall into silence the rest of the way, but Isabelle makes no attempt at going into her room when they finally get to it. Instead, she reaches down to take Lydia’s hand in hers, tracing her finger along Lydia’s voyance rune. Lydia feels like she’s burning up.
She clears her throat, “I think we should-”
“You’re very exciting,” Isabelle interrupts, smiling again, “And very pretty.”
Lydia, dumbly, can only muster up the word, “Oh.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?” Isabelle asks. Lydia isn’t sure she remembers how to breathe anymore.
“I- of course I do,” She says too quickly. She winces, but Isabelle only grins.
“Good!” Isabelle says, “Do you want to go on a date with me then?”
Lydia blinks.
“You’re drunk,” She says.
Isabelle sighs fondly, as if she can see right through her, “I’ll want to go on a date with you even when I’m sober.”
“I-”
“Should I ask you again tomorrow?” Isabelle wonders, “Because I will.”
“I-”
“Tomorrow, then,” Isabelle says decidedly. She turns, and she probably doesn’t need any help -Lydia marvels at the fact that she doesn’t stumble in her very tall stilettos- but Lydia reaches out anyway. Isabelle hums gratefully as she reaches for the door’s handle and swings it open, and Lydia is in the process of silently congratulating herself for somehow making it through this entire ordeal without combusting when Isabelle twists her neck around and presses a gentle kiss to Lydia’s cheek, and all of that goes right out the window.
She stands, stunned, and she knows she’s blushing, because Isabelle, mortifyingly, giggles at her reaction.
“Thank you for taking care of me, Lydia,” Isabelle says in a low, teasing voice. And then she winks, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”