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The Clave meetings are not the most pleasant events for Ty.
His sister being killed there, for one, is not a memory that he is particularly fond of. As well as his other sister getting exiled. Or people deciding to abandon his brother for death.
It’s a complicated relationship.
“If you glare at the Ashdowns even harder, they might combust into dust without any assisted murder,” Livvy supplies. Very unhelpfully, in Ty’s opinion.
Livvy throws him another pointed look and starts floating towards where Julian and Emma are. The opportunity to see all of her siblings together is always exciting to her, regardless of the bitter memories.
Without Livvy’s grounding presence beside him, Ty stiffens up. He feels more than a few disapproving looks shot in his direction, but he couldn’t care less. Subconsciously, his eyes drift to Kit.
He stands out easily – with his un-shadowhunter-like posture and worn-out jacket that has seen more horrors of life than any clothing item ever should. Simon, next to him, seems to be hanging off his ear, gesticulating about something vividly, making Kit smile openly at him.
Ty feels his own lips forming into a half-grin. It’s nice to see Kit calm and relaxed for once. Even if it’s not Ty who is making him feel that way.
“Easy now, loverboy.” Anush bumps his shoulder gently.
Ty scowls. “Shut up.”
“You know, there is a thing called talking,” Anush says. “Definitely is more productive than longingly staring at him.”
“I don’t do anything longingly,” Ty replies. Ignores the warmth rising to his cheeks. “Besides, it’s an important meeting. About his heritage, nevertheless.”
Anush purses his lips. “People might get mean.”
“Trust me, I know.”
Ty looks up at Kit again. He is still laughing about something with Simon when someone approaches them from behind. Ty immediately stiffens in his place. He doesn’t, exactly, recognize the person, but something feels off about him right away.
“Do you know who that is?” Ty whispers to Anush.
“Ah.” Anush sighs. “A Scarsbury offspring. Conrad? Or Crawford? It was a stupid name, that’s the only thing I remember.”
Conrad or Crawford smirks, crosses his arms over his chest, and starts telling something to Kit’s face. Ty sees that Simon next to him goes pale.
“He is– notoriously not the nicest to downworlders. His family as a whole, really,” Anush says. “Do you think he is saying something to Kit?”
Ty starts fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, his focus fully fixed on Kit’s face, who starts frowning, jaw jutting out as he clenches it tight. His right hand starts forming into a fist, but he tucks it under his elbow with force.
The room is loud enough with so many voices around, and Kit is far enough for Ty to only see Scarsbury’s mouth opening and closing. Then something quiets down, and Ty manages to make out the end of a broken sentence:
“– ungrateful faerie mutt–”
Ty is in motion before he even realizes that his feet are moving him forward. Anush is yelling something at his back – mostly his name, repeatedly, but Ty doesn’t care. The voices start to get clearer as Ty approaches closer.
“You know you should really work on your insults. Five out of ten, you wouldn’t last half a day at the Shadowmarket,” Kit says. His lips are upturned into a sharp smile, and from this angle Ty sees how desperately he claws at the seams of his jacket.
Conrad or Crawford lets out a guttural noise at the back of his throat. Simon looks like he wants to fall through the crust of the Earth, but still reaches out to place a hand over Kit’s shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Ty asks, and Kit’s eyes snap up right away, practically on cue.
Kit gives him a weak smile, as if trying to communicate a silent message. Ty is decidedly not good at those, so he turns his attention back to the root of the problem.
“Blackthorn,” Scarsbury practically spits out.
“Conrad,” Ty greets.
“It’s Crawford.”
“Sorry,” Ty replies as unapologetically as he can muster. “The name is so stupid, I could never remember.”
Kit snorts, and Simon lets out a drowned noise.
Scarsbury takes a step towards Ty, but Ty barely flinches, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll ask again. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, really–” Kit starts but is quickly interrupted by Crawford: “I am just saying how this mutt and his kind are not welcome here.”
“Interesting,” Ty deadpans. “Because, last time I checked, that’s not how the Clave operates.”
Simon takes a step between them. “Listen, maybe we should just–”
“Oh, right. I am so sorry,” Scarsbury ignores Simon as well, getting into Ty’s space. “Forgot that your family is a bunch of downworld consorts.”
Ty flexes his jaw. That’s nothing new, he has heard this all before. He can handle it. “And what about it?” he asks, not really interested in any reply that Crawford might provide.
To Ty’s horror, Crawford’s grin becomes even wider, almost manic. “Is that true that you are wearing a Herondale heirloom, Blackthorn? Involving yourself with this scum, the dick can’t be that–”
Before, Ty had been very confused about the expression seeing red. It didn’t make much sense to him – how can one see red, even when overtaken by emotions? He kept asking himself, he remembers – does it get tinted, or is it just red at the rim of your eyes, like when you cry?
It’s ironic how what happens next Ty can only explain as seeing red. The world narrows down to one point, and his head is so full of Kit and his hurt face that Ty just pushes Simon out of the way and swings a harsh blow right at Scarsbury’s nose, the impact throwing him towards the nearest wall.
Someone yells, and Ty distantly manages to make out Julian’s voice from afar. He thinks Livvy appears near him too, but Ty is only focused on Scarsbury covering his nose as he tries to get up. Ty surges towards him and grabs a handful of his shirt, pinning him back to the wall.
“Ty.”
There is a hand on his forearm. He expects it to be Kit, but instead turns to see Mark’s face twisted in a concerned expression.
“Come on, let him go,” Mark says. The way his nose flares up doesn’t indicate that Mark fully means what he says, but Ty relents, putting Crawford down and stepping away.
“Not worth it,” Mark adds.
Ty nods. It’s not worth it – it’s irrational, he knows it. He knows that if it comes down to it, he will be the responsible one. And yet, his thoughts kept jumping back to Kit’s strained expression and hurt written all over his face. Ty knows that he has been a source of it, more than once in the span of the last few years. He doesn’t want to anymore.
Ty is used to people hurting him, or spewing hurtful words towards his family. Unfortunately, that is something he has been living with since he was young. Since before the dark war, since before he could identify what bigoted even means.
Something about people being like that to Kit, though – it is suddenly too much. Ty doesn’t want him to be on the receiving end of it. To feel like he always should be on guard even among his people.
Supposedly mine, he hears Kit’s words in his head.
“He broke my nose!” Crawford yelps, still cradling his nose as the blood gushes now.
Ty rolls his eyes. By the Angel, he is so whiny. Doesn’t he know what an iratze is?
“Maybe it will teach you to keep your tongue to yourself,” Mark says. He turns towards Crawford, his hand still on Ty's shoulder, “You – go clean up and get an iratze–” then Mark turns towards Ty: “You– go take a breather.”
“But–” Ty starts to protest, but Mark shakes his head solemnly.
“A breather, Tiberius,” Mark insists.
Ty mumbles a half-hearted fine under his breath and rushes out of the room. Before he leaves, he catches Kit’s blank expression – it’s unfortunately too distant for Ty to properly decipher. Once out, Ty reaches for his heron necklace, tugging. He wonders how many people know. If Kit is involved enough with other shadowhunters to know that they know.
Ty groans, sliding back against the wall and hiding his head between his arms. Fucking idiot – that’s what he is.
“Very romantic,” Livvy chimes in from beside him. Ty really doesn’t like a knowing smirk on her face.
“He was being an asshole,” Ty explains. He doesn’t think he should – most people would always take his explanations as trying to excuse himself.
Most but not Livvy.
“He was,” Livvy agrees. “Not sure you should have punched him in front of the whole Clave, though.”
“Livvy–”
“Should have waited till everyone is out,” she continues and winks.
Ty shoots her a quick smile. “Thank you, Livvy.”
“You know I always have your back,” Livvy says softly.
There is a sound of footsteps and both of them look up. Kit marches in with such purpose that it almost looks comical to Ty – though his face is stern and paler than usual.
“What the fuck, Ty?”
Livvy purses her lips. “I’ll give you guys space.”
“I would really prefer if you didn’t,” Ty pleads.
Livvy sticks out her tongue at him and walks right through the wall.
Ty keeps his gaze glued to the ground. He continues fidgeting with the necklace around his throat, pulling the chain left to right until it starts leaving red marks all over his neck.
“Seriously? You’re just going to ignore me?”
“I am not ignoring you. I just don’t know what you are expecting me to say,” Ty admits.
Kit groans, and Ty hears as he starts pacing back and forth. “What are you expecting me to say, he says,” Kit mutters. “I was handling it. You didn’t need to – fucking hit him.”
“He was saying ugly things to you.”
“Well, I can take it, Ty!” Kit exclaims, making Ty jump in his place. “You think I haven’t heard this all before?”
Ty stands up and pushes himself off the wall, dusting his pants. He looks up at Kit. “You shouldn’t take it. Not you, not anyone in my family, or someone who is like you.”
“Punching one bigoted guy wouldn’t fix your fucked-up system, Ty.”
“Our system," Ty corrects on autopilot.
“Or, was it that awful? To hear someone think that we might be involved?”
Ty blinks. “What are you talking about?”
Kit’s face is red. His chest is heaving, as if breathing is suddenly the hardest thing for him to do. “The necklace,” Kit mumbles.
“The necklace?” Ty repeats. If Kit expects him to figure something out, he had to try a bit harder.
Kit groans again, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It was fine until he mentioned the necklace and us being– you know,” Kit says.
“I don’t, really,” Ty replies.
“Oh my fucking god.” Kit drops his hands and takes a deep breath. “He implied that you want to suck my dick.”
“I do, but I don’t see how that is relevant to this conversation.”
Kit lets out a high-pitched noise. His face now looks the shade of burgundy, so pink that it takes over the splutter of freckles on his cheeks.
“This is not happening,” Kit says and starts pacing around again. “This fucking angel of yours must truly hate me. What the fuck.”
“Are you okay?” Ty prompts and reaches out his arm towards him.
Kit shakes his head, stopping Ty’s hand mid-way and pushing him towards the wall until Ty’s back stumbles into it. It’s an odd feeling that reminds Ty of the first time they met, sans the knife.
“People think we might be involved. Because of the necklace,” Kit says. Or, rather, whispers, as they are leaning into each other’s space.
“They might think we are involved for many reasons, Kit. I don’t really care about that. Do you?”
Kit curses under his breath. His hand is suddenly on Ty’s collarbones, fingers pulling onto the chain of the necklace just like Ty has been doing a few minutes ago. It’s a touch, in a sense, but not really, Kit’s fingers ghosting over the expanse of Ty’s skin.
“I did not punch him because of the rumors,” Ty says. He feels the need to fill in the gaps of silence when Kit is standing so close to him. “I punched him because he is an asshole and he was being an asshole towards you. No one deserves that, and you especially.”
Kit wraps the chain around his finger – it’s long enough for him to be able to do so. The drag of metal is warm against Ty’s skin. Familiar.
Kit tugs on the necklace and their foreheads bump together. “It was not very nice of you,” Kit says.
Ty nods, and Kit’s forehead moves with him. “I’d do that a thousand times, though.”
“Please, don’t.”
They both giggle in the space between them. Kit hesitates for a second and then leans in, placing a quick kiss at the side of Ty’s cheek. So quickly that Ty thinks he imagined it for a second.
“Thank you, really,” Kit says, pulling away.
Ty pushes down the disappointment from the loss of the touch. “Anytime,” Ty replies.
“Ty!”
Kit rears back at the sound even more, and Ty looks up to see Mark approaching them.
“All good?” Mark asks.
“Took a breather,” Ty mimics Mark’s voice and earns a gentle swat at his ear.
“When did you grow up so much?” Mark mumbles. Then he looks at Kit and frowns. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking a breather, too,” Kit says. It would have been believable if not for a blush rising high on his cheeks.
“Right.” Mark rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, by the way. That guy did deserve a punching,” he adds. Then looks back at Ty. “Don’t tell Jules I said that.”
Ty zips his lips, making his brother laugh.
“Let’s go, you children.”
They start trailing behind him slowly. Then Ty feels a tug at his elbow. “We’re okay, right?” Kit whispers only for Ty to hear.
Ty stops in his place, tilting his head to glance at Kit. “As much as it is possible,” he replies.
Maybe one day, Ty wants to add.
One day we will be okay.