A/N: Hello! I'm back! :D It's been a long time since I posted a story But here's a little one for you guys :) In honor of CoFA which was out lastApril 5th :) Uhm, so slight warning: this story is set in an alternate universe so NO SHADOWHUNTERS, NO VAMPIRE MOJOS, NO SUPERNATURAL STUFF! Everyone is basically just normal people... but I'll put a little inside jokes about that sort of world somewhere in this story :) Hahaha. This story is something a little fresh since I've recently concocted it whilst I was drinking frappes in a cafe :D hahahaaha and it's my first time trying to write a fic where everyone is just normal people so please go easy on me :)

No flames please! But constructive criticism is well appreciated ;)
I wouldnt mean to impose but No reviews NO UPDATE because I forget to do stuff alot :) If I get reviews, alerts pop up in my mail that remind me I have a story to keep... plus, reviews motivate me. :)

Summary:

Popularity-wise,M.L. is just another fish in a big ocean of aspiring music groups. But when Clary comes to Simon's door offering a chance to change that in exchange for a place to live,what's next for the band? And what about Clary? How will she adapt to living with 3 guys—especially a certain secretive blonde who she can't help but find a little interesting.

If you guys like the story please read and review! :D Love you guys bye! :D

MILLENNIUM LINT

Chapter 1: Tough Crowd

"Thank you, New York City! We're here all night!" Eric proclaimed ala rock star. The room didn't respond enthusiastically, but Simon was used to it. He scanned the crowd and his eyes found Maia, who was serving drinks to a few Armani-clad men. She caught his gaze and smiled sweetly before pouring another shot for a customer.

"Simon!" It was Kirk, the lead singer of the band, and Simon's close personal friend. "I think I broke my sound box." He rubbed his throat, croaking a little as if to demonstrate his point.

"Dude," Simon turned to look at him. "Drink warm water with salt… I'm sure it's nothing serious. You probably strained it a little by screaming into the mic for most of the song."

"Bon Jovi does it all the time—and Aerosmith!" Kirk winced, his voice hoarse.
"They need to scream because they perform in front of billions of people. We, on the other hand, perform in a 300 square meter bar and diner."

When Kirk tried to speak again, he coughed violently so much so that Simon had to rub his back to get the air out.
Simon sighed, wearily. "Go backstage and rest. You're not singing tonight, not in that condition."

By this time, Simon's other band mates had joined them offstage. They had Kirk sit on a vacant chair and hovered over their fallen comrade.
"Well someone has to sing!" It was Matt, the drummer, and contributor to their audience since his mom and sister had come to watch. "We have two more numbers!"

Eric came towards them carrying a glass of water. "The boss says five minutes till curtain call." He looked at his friends, eyes scanning. "Any suggestions? Or better yet, nominees?"

"Simon." Everyone turned to look at Simon, and the boy was flushed and bewilderment was obvious in his eyes.
"Kirk, are you insane? I can't sing lead!" Simon protested, but his band mates were still silent.
"You can't sing lead—but you can sing." Kirk smiled triumphantly.
Simon half choked on his own spit. He wasn't serious, was he?

"You know…" Eric said, with a ghostly smile that made the hair on Simon's arm stand erect. "Simon does have a good voice…"
"Hmm-mm… suitable for slow and low songs, even…" Matt chipped in.

Without Simon realizing what was going on, everyone was already planning the song list, without the keyboard, and with him as lead. This cannot be happening.

"Guys! Sorry to break your little conversation—but there is no way I am singing! No freaking way!" Simon declared but they just waved his frustration off with smiles.

"Never fear, my friend. We've laid out the perfect number for you." Eric walked over to Simon and slung an arm lazily over his neck. "Trust me, it's gonna be legendary."

"I think Mrs. Anderson likes you." Maia said teasingly to Simon, who was clearing up the stage. It was closing time at Taki's bar and diner. "She was giving you the eye all the while you were singing that last number."

Simon chuckled. "I'll just appreciate the fact she'll probably be the closest we'll ever get to a fangirl." He bounced off the stage and walked over to her.

"Thanks for getting us the gig, by the way. It was a big help." His smile was easy-going and friendly.
"Anytime." She winked. Simon remembered considerably wanting to ask her out before, but the urge slowly died, for some reason.
"No, seriously. It's a big favor for me. I can never think of ways to repay you." To his surprise, she stiffened and turned her back to him.
"Well, I know how you can… repay me, I mean… why done we go out on—"

"PAGING SIMON LEWIS, YOUR ASS IS FROZEN IN THE CURB."
Simon turned away from Maia and saw a blonde male figure dressed in a coat and jeans, obviously wet from the rain, leaning by the entrance. Jace.

Not a lot of people knew this, but Jace was the heir to a fortune of skyscrapers, international businesses and fame, before he, well, ran away and was never to be heard from again.

Because before he became Jace the annoying, snarky, and brutally honest cook at a small bakeshop in Manhattan who has lived with Simon for over two years, never bothering to loaf off someone else's food—he was Jace Lightwood, the annoying, snarky, and brutally honest second son of an industrial giant, filthy rich and unhappy.

Simon raised a brow at his friend. "My ass isn't frozen in the curb."
"Well mine is." Jace replied, a smirk on his face. "Well hello, Maia. Finally asking the girl of your dreams to the prom?"

Simon didn't understand what the hell Jace was talking about but Maia looked outraged and stalked away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Simon." She was practically scurrying away.
Simon, still clueless, slung his bag over his head and walked over to Jace. Maia's retreating figure vanished through the kitchen doors.

"What did you say to make her so angry?" Simon asked him when they were outside. The rain was still pouring mercilessly.
Jace raised his brow even higher, and drew his hoody over his head.
"You're really ignorant of the workings of female emotions, aren't you?"

Simon was about to retort, but Jace had already walked ahead. Simon realized why: thunder sounds started up.
Simon swallowed his words, vowing to get back at the blonde some other time. He lengthened his strides and caught up with Jace in moments.

"Why'd you come to Taki's anyway? It's past ten." Simon asked, hit boots slushing the water beneath him.
"I left my keys in the bakery." Jace looked rueful. "And I wasn't sure if Jordan was home."

Jordan was Simon's legit housemate (apart from Jace who, as Simon described, loafs off his rent and food.) Jordan went to a University and often came home late, so Jace's worry was liable for consideration.

Simon goes to college, as well, but he was surprised to learn that Jace had never been enrolled in a normal school in his entire life.

"It was thanks to my homeschooling that I am now a genius." Jace had stated before. "By the age of 11, I was a child prodigy often regarded in the league of Beethoven and Mozart. At 12, I learned Quantum Physics and Intermediate Accounting, easily passing, and earning top marks. My early childhood was spent knowing 15 other languages, dead ones included, and mixed martial arts, as well as lawyering; the last one, just for fun." Simon remembered how serious Jace looked before he completely moved in with him. His eyes which had seemed to bore into a person's soul with a sort of coldness now glistened and sparkled with mischief. He had changed a great deal in a short amount of time. It was probably because of his new found freedom.

Jace never mentioned why he left home, or his family, and Simon didn't want to push his buttons. The guy knew 13 kinds of martial arts—it never hurt to be cautious. Besides, Jace rarely talked about his personal life.

"Rain is getting stronger. I suggest we move fast." Simon woke from his reverie and nodded. The two ran for their building and up the stairs to their condo unit. Simon took his keys from his left pocket and inserted it into hole. Within minutes, he and Jace were inside, drying themselves up by the heater.

"What's for dinner?" Simon asked Jace. The boy was in charge of all the cooking related chores, since he was pretty good at that sort of thing. Thank God for that, Simon thought. He himself wasn't exactly gifted, and Jordan wasn't a fabulous chef either so Jace was pretty much heaven sent—when he wasn't destroying appliances and insulting you, of course.

"The shop owner sent me some pastries. They're all mango flavored though." Jace said from the kitchen.
Simon sighed. "I will never understand your strange affinity for that fruit. I doubt anyone will."
Jace popped his head out from the kitchen window. "You eat mango, or leftover meatloaf. Your choice."
Simon groaned and sank into his chair with a Why is life so hard? expression on his face.

"Don't we have anything else to eat?" Simon questioned hopefully.

Jace's head was partly visible as it bent down to check the contents of the fridge. "Jordan was supposed to do the groceries." And Jordan was late, so no Jordan, no groceries, no food.

Simon sighed for the nth time that day. "Fine. Give me the mango."
"Mango pie… or mange tarts?" Jace was about to enumerate more when a knock came unto the door; then a jingling of screws as a key slid into the hole.

"Jordan!" His timing was a blessing for Simon. He rushed out of his seat and met Jordan by the entryway. "Jordan! Please tell me you brought food, for the love of—"

Simon's eyes widened in shock; Jordan breathed out a laugh.

"I brought more than just the groceries, man."
"What's going on guys?" Jace walked over from the kitchen and then stopped, when he saw the figure carried in Jordan's arms.

"Jordan—what the—" Simon's mind was swirling with possibilities. Jordan came home carrying a partly conscious female, cold and drenched from the rain. Where did he find her? How did she get like that? What the hell was going on?

"I can stand. You didn't need to carry me." The girl stated. Her voice was soft but dictating and strangely familiar to Simon. She struggled in Jordan's grasp. "Please put me down."

Jordan set the girl down on the floor and she drew the hood of her jacket to her shoulders, revealing soft orange curls with a small, pale face.
"I found her soaking outside the building looking for you." Jordan said worriedly.

She sat up and looked at Simon, her eyes were green, like the grass on summer.
"Simon," Simon was shocked she knew his name. "It's been awhile. You don't remember me do you?"

"Uh, not so much." She let out a small laugh, it sounded melodic, but for some reason, empty and humorless. Like something had died inside of her. Kind of like Jace when he first got here.

"It's me. Clary." Clary… Clary… Simon wracked his brain. Clary… OH!

A distant memory came to him, like a film being played in his head.

"Simon, stop laughing! I'll never be able to memorize my lines if you keep on laughing! What are you laughing at anyway?"

"You said 'Doo-doo head' hahahahaha!"

"Oh my god… Clary!" He ran over and hugged her. "Clary! This is Clary!"
"Yes, we've gathered that." Jace said, his tone unreadable. Simon ignored him and hugged her again, surprisingly, she hugged back.
"I take it you two know each other well, then?" Jace was the one who asked, which was sort of unexpected. He was rarely the type to ask background information.

"Hell yes!" Simon took Clary's face and tried to remember each line. "We were childhood friends!"
Clary smiled, but it didn't reach up to her eyes. She looked tired. "Simon, it's great to see you again. How are you?"

"Great! But wait what were you doing wi—"
"Clary? As in Clary Fray?"It was Jordan. Simon glanced over to him and was surprised to see that he was shivering all over, his eyes wide in astonishment and awe.

"Who?" Jace moved over to hand Jordan a towel.

"How could you not know Clary Fray? She's a child star who rose to fame since her appearance in blockbuster movies like The Mortal Instruments! She was featured in Oprah, Teen Vogue, and other magazine because she's one of the generation's hottest actresses! Clary Fray! Oh my god… I carried Clary Fray…"

"You don't need to compliment me." Clary said, flushed by his praises. "Really."
"What, you don't like fame?" Jace said with extra acid than usual. Clary's green eyes found his gold ones and stayed there for a fraction of a minute before she said, "It's none of your business. Who are you, anyway?"
"That is none of your business, as well." The hostility between Jace and Clary would have spread like wild fire if Simon hadn't intervened.

"That is enough you two. Damn, you just met but you two seem to already hate each other." he remarked.
"It's love." Jordan got hit on the head and a kick on the shin from Jace and Clary, respectively, because of that comment.

"You say the stupidest things, Jordan. And you; you're childhood friends with a superstar. Why never tell us this, Simon?" Jace asked; his eyes still locked with Clary's in a heated battle of supremacy.

"It never seemed relevant. Besides, Clary moved away from our childhood home when she was, what, 12? We never got in contact since then." Simon reminisced. "I used to run lines with her for her drama class. Ah, you always did like the beauty of performing in front of people."

Clary broke eye contact with Jace to look at Simon. "I lived in Hollywood for a time because of mom's job as a Recording agent. That's where I was discovered by the company I work for now—well, I used to work for." Her eyes then cast downward. "I ran away."

Déjà vu, eh, Jace? Simon gave Jace a smile, which he returned with a scoff.
"Why, did something happen with your mom?" Simon asked concernedly.

She shook her head, her orange hair falling like a curtain over her face. "No, it has nothing to do with her. It's… it's about work."
"Stress? Too much intrigue? Paparazzi?" Jordan offered reasons.
Clary shook her head again. "My… boss… he…" Clary cut herself off and stood up straight, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"It isn't important." She sounded like she was holding back tears. Clary always was a strong person, for someone so small and frail looking. "Simon, I'm asking you as a friend, please, let me stay here for now. Until everything is cleared up. I have nowhere else to go. I don't know anyone outside of Hollywood except for you. Please."

Simon looked at her and sighed. Today was really eventful. It drained the energy out of him. Plus, he hasn't eaten yet. "Clary, I wish I could—but we don't even have extra rooms here. And I already have one other free loader who can't seem to go away."

"Don't speak about me as if I'm not here." Jace said with a fake attempt at hurt.
Simon waved him off.

"What if I offer you something… something… worth your while?" Clary asked, her eyes deadly serious.
"If you're offering free sex then, by all means, welcome home!" Jace said happily, which Simon thought would earn a hateful glance from Clary—but unexpectedly…

"Oh, I understand now. Your mean, occasionally hostile, and rude treatment towards me is all just a front to the fact you actually want me." Her words made Jordan's mouth drop into a big O, and Simon struggled to keep himself from laughing. First time in a long time somebody actually sassed Jace and left him speechless.

Jace looked annoyed but amusement was evident in those golden eyes.
"You think you're all that smart, don't you, Ms. Fray?" He sized her up.
She smiled, coyly, like a cat preparing to pounce. "I'm sure you'd like to prove me otherwise… Mr…?"

"Jace." Jace stuck out a hand and Clary took it. Simon and Jordan just stared at the exchange in awe.
"See? I knew those two would get along!" Jordan said happily. Simon shook his head, but a smile was on his face.
"Simon," It was Clary calling him. She walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I have a proposition you can't refuse."
"Oh?" Simon said curiously.

A smile played gingerly on her lips. "How would you like it if I made Millennium Lint a rising sensation?"
Jace and Jordan gasped audibly in the background.
"You mean you're offering to fix his lame band?" Jace asked.
"Millennium Lint is not lame!" Simon defended his group, despite their obvious unpopularity.

"What Jace means is that you guys just need a little extra push in the right direction." Jordan inserted, "And you guys would be a lot better if your songs weren't about banging girls, or the rotting pizza under your bed."

"Exactly." Clary gave a lively smile. "Simon, I, especially, know showbiz and I can help you guys get more gigs than you've ever gotten!"
Simon pondered for a moment. "How do you propose to do that?"

"I can write you a song, and put in some chords. Don't! Hear me out first, okay? I'll make you guys a song, and teach you guys how to present yourself on stage without looking like junkies… and by the end of your next gig, if people aren't starving to get an encore from Millennium Lint, then I swear, I'll kiss Jace."

"You sound quite enthusiastic about that last bit." Jace said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
Clary rolled her eyes and held out her hand to him. "I'll do that, and bring in the groceries. Just please let me stay."

Simon stared at her then at Jordan and Jace. He sighed inwardly. "Fine."
Clary squealed and hugged him. "Thank you!"

Simon patted her head and proceeded to the kitchen. "Now if you guys will excuse me, I am going to go eat dinner." He turned halfway to look at Clary. "You eaten already?"

"No… but it's fine. I don't really eat dinner…" Clary said, rubbing her arm awkwardly, but a smile was on her face, the first genuine one.
"Nah, come on. Jace is a good cook." At the mention of his name, Jace reappeared from behind Clary.

"How do you feel about mangoes for dessert?" He whispered in her ear. Simon swore he saw her jump.

A/N: Did you like it? Hate it? Want to know what happens next? :) Click that Review button and tell me okayyyy? :)

Next Chapter: The Newbie