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Clary has had one too many drinks.
(It's Magnus's fault-- this she tells herself, conveniently ignoring the fact that she'd downed two before she'd even texted him asking for a drinking buddy. But even with this, he's a filthy enabler and this whole mess is a bit of his fault, isn't it? This Clary will take some of the responsibility for, even if Isabelle had been the one to approach her about it-- she'd been the one who'd accepted, after all.)
She's, through the daze of alcohol and things swirling in her vision (yes, she needs to let go of the glass that is already shaking in her hands), aware of Magnus patting her on the back. “Biscuit, put the drink down and nobody gets hurt, okay?”
He's been calling her biscuit for like ten years now-- it had popped up somewhere along the haze of weird puberty and, wow, we're both really bi and we shouldn't try dating ever again. (It hadn't been actual dating in the first place-- she'd been thirteen, he sixteen, and it was both gross and terrible. Jocelyn was livid when she found out, which was only a year ago.)
Clary puts the drink down. Magnus lets out a sigh, beside her, and she hates him for having the alcohol tolerance of a god. She'd asked him, once, what his secret was, and he'd raised an eyebrow-- she hated him in that moment, even more than she does now-- and said, start early. Clary's never found out what that actually means.
“Okay,” says Magnus. There's glitter flecked under his multi-colored eyes-- to hide the sleepless circles that lurk there, Clary's sure-- and his hair's slicked back, gobs of hair gel shining in the dim lighting of the seedy bar. “You called me out here for a 'drinking buddy'-- which I do not need, by the way-- and didn't say why you are getting... what's the word?” He knows the word. “Absolutely smashed.” Yes. That's the word. (Two words, but semantics.)
Clary thinks about her situation: fake girlfriend who she has real feelings for fake ending it after fake future mother-in-law decides to set fake girlfriend up on a real blind date with Clary's real brother. She's not sure how to explain it, so she reaches for her drink again, hissing backwards when Magnus flicks her wrist.
“So... I might have roped myself into a bad situation,” she says. Magnus snorts and mutters something before turning and gesturing for another drink-- he's the sort of guy who can blink and get ten free drinks from ten different people, yet another addition to the numbered, MLA formatted list Clary has somewhere of Why Clary Fray Hates Magnus Bane. It might be several hundred other entries down, but oh is it there. “You know in movies, where you agree to be someone's fake girlfriend and maybe you end up falling a little in love with them?”
Oops.
She hadn't meant to say that out loud. It isn't that she's in love with Isabelle, it's just that she's infatuated. Very much infatuated.
“Yes,” says Magnus. He swallows his drink in one smooth motion, holding her gaze over the clear glass, and Clary is adding that to her list if she's sober enough to remember it. “So, that's the situation.” He considers her a long moment. “You know, it's funny. Alec informed me his sister had a new girlfriend, who she broke up with recently, and Isabelle came to me earlier today wailing about the same issue.”
“Oh my god.” That can't mean what Clary thinks it means. “What-- she--”
“She said along the lines of the same thing you did,” Magnus says. It's a bit grim, muffled by the rim of his glass-- this one is accompanied by a phone number. Wait-- sister. Oh, god, Magnus's boyfriend and Isabelle's brother are the same person. “So I will say the same exact thing, and also offer to drive you home since you are in no state to do so yourself.” He sets the latest drink down with a clink, not looking in the direction of the glowingly pale blonde who'd sent it-- much to her dismay, judging from Clary looking at her instead. “Talk to her, for god's sake. If you even remember this conversation in the morning.”
He shakes his head, mournful, and tugs Clary to her feet. She trips ten times on the way out, and Magnus, whose apartment is within walking distance (apparently), shuffles her into the backseat of her own car. She's pretty sure she falls asleep on the way back to her own house, Magnus waking her and waiting in the doorway of her house until she can get to bed without disrupting her mom and Luke.
When Clary wakes up the next morning, there's a notification on Facebook-- she hadn't been on the previous day at all, but it was sent at two PM, and is from Isabelle. Hey. Can I talk to you?
Clary, jerking her head from her pillow and making a noise somewhere in her throat she isn't sure is completely human-- her throbbing headache protests at this-- types out a response in record time: Yes. When?
(She also has about ten messages from Magnus telling her to “stay hydrated, you damn lightweight”, and there's a Post-It note on her dresser from her mom, worried about her because technically, okay, she's nineteen and her fake ID sucks but she uses it anyways. Clary throws away the note and texts back Magnus, telling him to shut up for enabling her to drink more.
He's the one who got her a fake ID in the first place, anyways.)