Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Early morning light diffused through Alec’s fabric window shades, rousing him out of the plain, queen bed that occupied the center back wall of his room. As head of the New York Institute, he never really had a day off—but today was as close as he got. Instead of rising to his alarm in the early, dark hours of the morning—his usual routine—Alec allowed himself to sleep in until the late Summer sunlight beckoned him out of his dreamless slumber—a late, lazy 6:50 AM.

Moments after his eyes opened to the daylight, Alec was on his feet, mutely moving throughout his room in preparation for the day. He took his time, stretching his normally brief morning routine out to a lengthy fifteen minutes. Teeth, deodorant, clothes.

He never understood how other people could inflate their morning rituals to thirty minutes, sometimes more. Izzy had been known to take upwards of an hour on occasion. It baffled him. Perhaps part of it was his preference for showering at night—but even that would only add an extra five to seven minutes for Alec. He took an additional few seconds to smooth his hair in the bathroom mirror. He’d slept in an awkward position the night before, causing it to stick up at weird angles. A quick brush though with his fingers did the trick.

At 7:08 AM, Alexander Lightwood strolled into the main hall of the Institute, fully awake. The familiar muffled din of computers and quiet voices greeted him, breaking the aura of silence he surrounded himself with every morning. He spotted Jace standing in front of one of the many walls of monitors, focused intently on a repeating clip of blurry security footage.

“Haven’t you slept yet?” Alec asked his parabatai, approaching otherwise soundlessly from behind. Jace had been on the night patrol the previous evening, and should have returned to the Institute around 5:00 AM to debrief and go to sleep. He apparently had yet to do the latter.

“Not yet,” Jace confirmed, voice trailing off distractedly as he continued to stare at the pixelated screen. From what Alec could tell, one fuzzy dark blob approached another fuzzy dark blob, something bright glared into the camera for a handful of frames, and then both blobs disappeared. Alec squinted at the screen, his expression mirroring Jace’s, as if staring harder could somehow improve the quality of the image.

“So… “ Alec prompted. “What are we staring at?”

Things had been strained between the two since Clary Fray—no, Fairchild—no, Morgenstern—had crashed into their lives like a petite, red-headed wrecking ball, unsettling everything they knew about their families' histories—even that of Alec’s own parents. Complicating matters further, Alec still blamed her for outing him to his siblings. Sure, Izzy had already figured it out. And in his heart, he thought Jace might have as well. But before Clary, the family had at least maintained a fragile balance. Now, everything had devolved into chaos. Alec wasn’t sure Jace had forgiven him for that particular lifelong omission yet. He mostly just wanted to forget about it, and return to the way things had been before. But Clary Fairchild—and all of the drama she brought with her—seemed to be here to stay.

“I think it’s a murder,” Jace answered, still completely enthralled by the vague shapes before them.

Alec did a double take, scanning Jace’s solemn, fixated expression for any sign of humor. His parabatai was serious.

“From this?” Alec questioned. “Where did you even get this?” He shifted his gaze back and forth between the blonde shadowhunter and the screen.

Jace finally tore his attention away from the video, refocusing on Alec. Today, just like every day in the past several weeks since Alec had called off his engagement, Jace seemed completely normal. This distressed Alec. He kept waiting for everything to crumble. No one had really acknowledged anything that had happened since his very temporary failure of an engagement to Lydia Branwell. Jace had brushed it off, but Alec knew he understood more than he let on. He had the parabatai bond to thank for that. Every time the two were alone together, he felt some sort of hesitation rise in the bond, like Jace wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“Clary and I tracked some downworlder activity to this alleyway last night,” Jace explained, pointing at the screen. “All we had to go on was a mysterious burst of magical activity. Iz thinks it might be a warlock, but we can’t be certain.”

Alec turned his attention back to the video, narrowing his eyes uselessly. “A warlock and… ?”

“That’s just it,” Jace responded. “We don’t know. We showed up only a few minutes after whatever it was subsided, but no trace remained of anything out of the ordinary. Clary spotted this security camera on a bank across the street, and her pet werewolf was able to acquire this for us using his police resources. But it’s just so low quality… ”

Jace trailed off, concluding his weak narrative with a shrug.

The mention of the newly-minted leader of the New York werewolf pack brought back some uncomfortably fresh memories for Alec—particularly those relating to a certain High Warlock of Brooklyn. He recalled bursting into the warlock’s home, only to see him wasting away on the floor, struggling with every ounce of his magic to keep Luke Garroway alive. Alec ran straight to him when called, without any knowledge of what the warlock would ask of him. When Magnus asked to channel him, to use his energy to supplement his own magic, Alec had offered himself without hesitation.

He most vividly remembered the moments after, when Magnus had collapsed, completely exhausted, into Alec’s arms. The immediate realization of how naturally he rested there. And again after that, when he felt so guilty about asking so much of Magnus that Alexander Lightwood had crawled around on his hands and knees and scrubbed the High Warlock’s apartment clean himself while Magnus rested. He didn’t even put that much effort into his own bare, minimalist bedroom. To be fair, he had never needed to. He rarely spent any time there.

It was Magnus who had convinced Alec to call off the engagement that everyone now tip-toed around mentioning. But no one knew this—not even the warlock himself.

`You have a choice to make. I will not ask again.’ Alec replayed those words in his head over and over, day after day. He and Magnus had hardly spoken a word to each other since. But the morning after the ultimatum, Alec and Lydia had quietly called off their wedding. In the confusion that ensued with an attack on the Institute, and Hodge’s betrayal, no one had really stopped to think if the engagement’s cancellation had been due to anything other than very, very poor timing. Few shadowhunters dared to host such a massive gathering in the first place with a maniac like Valentine still at large.

Lydia, all things considered, had been very understanding. In the aftermath, she named Alec the new head of the New York Institute—the official one, not just the acting one. He had spent the last several weeks “coming to terms with his new responsibilities.” It was an easy enough excuse for his excess brooding as of late. He had already been fulfilling those responsibilities, so in reality, very little had changed for him on that front. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Magnus Bane.

“So I was thinking we should call Magnus Bane,” Jace was saying. Alec’s attention redirected sharply back to his parabatai.

“What? Magnus? Why?” He fumbled desperately to regain his composure at the unexpected mention of that name.

Jace shot him a curious glance. “Because he’s the High Warlock of Brooklyn? And if there is a rogue warlock terrorizing the people of New York, he should know?”

“... right,” Alec nodded, blinking into the empty silence. He realized Jace was waiting for further comment. “Yes, that makes complete sense. You do that.”

Jace watched him suspiciously. “Alec, is everything okay?”

Alec took a moment too long to respond, letting the quiet air hang uncomfortably between them.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Before Jace could press further, Alec spun on his heel and strode away, leaving his parabatai grasping vainly for an explanation.

~

Alec kept his eyes focused on the empty pavement. Maybe if he stared at it long enough, some sort of evidence would magically appear to keep him occupied with anything other than the warlock snooping around the crime scene. Jace, Izzy, and Clary all watched raptly as Magnus Bane walked the alley, blue sparks whispering from his fingertips. Alec heard the entire group inhale together. He slid his gaze reluctantly upward to see the High Warlock frowning in front of an unassuming brick wall, the embers floating around his hands now yellow-green, like frantic fireflies. It cast dramatic shadows across his face, and for a moment, it seemed that the warlock himself glowed brightly in the lengthening twilight shadows. Magnus Bane’s eyes met his, and for just a second, he caught a flash of shimmering gold in his gaze—pupils narrow and sharp.

Alec realized he was staring. He held his breath, completely bewitched. Then Magnus’ eyes widened, as if he only just recalled something, and he blinked. When his eyes opened again, the sparkling glow was gone. The warlock’s pupils had returned to the ordinary small, black circles he always had.

His eyes dropped to the ground, and when he spoke again, he looked everywhere except toward Alec.

“Well, Miss Lightwood,” he said to Izzy. “It seems you’re right. Something very unfortunate occurred here. And a warlock was definitely involved.”

“You can tell that from a flashy parlour trick?” Jace’s skepticism drew a frown from the warlock, but instead it was Alec who Jace quickly redirected his attention to, eyebrows raised in surprise. Alec blushed and focused his eyes back down to the pavement, refusing to acknowledge the rush of protective indignance they had both just felt through their parabatai bond.

Magnus glanced between them curiously. “Yes,” he asserted, words dragging out as he carefully examined the two shadowhunters. “This spell is a lot more complicated than it looks, not that an ogrish shadowhunter like you would take the time to notice how taxing different magics are on a lowly downworlder.”

Jace rolled his eyes at the biting remark. Concern flooded Alec’s mind, earning him another strange look from his parabatai. He found himself suddenly by the warlock’s side.

“Do you need a minute?” he asked, quietly. “You don’t have to help us, you know. I mean, don’t feel obligated. We’re very grateful for your help so far as it is.” He tried his best to sound diplomatic. Behind him, Izzy snickered.

Magnus tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks for your concern, Alexander,” he replied. “But I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn, after all. I can handle a simple Revealing spell.” He spun his hands around with extra flair, summoning the tiny, chartreuse embers back to life.

“Though,” Magnus added under his breath, “you can feel free to thank me with a drink later.”

Alec wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to hear that comment. Unlike the others present, he had activated a Hearing rune—along with several other runes useful for observation—upon arriving to the scene. He focused on playing dumb and fixed his gaze on the floating sparks. His eyes widened in amazement as the tiny hovering orbs of light assembled into two ghostly figures.

Jace let out a small grunt of approval, which was about as close to eating his words as he ever got. Clary gasped, still completely awestruck by everything magical. Izzy stared at Alec with a knowing grin, which he very pointedly and completely ignored.

After that, no question remained about the events that occurred in that alley the night before. They all watched in solemn silence as the smoldering phantom of a young woman cornered a slumped, aging mundane man, grabbing him by the throat. It appeared almost as if she inhaled him—like sand across a windy beach, he dissolved into scattered particles of light and into her mouth. She licked her lips hungrily, a paper-thin, curved pair of fangs retracting behind her upper lip. Then, she vanished. The scene crumbled in a scattered cloud of flickering dust.

“A… vampire?” Izzy speculated, bewildered by the dramatic encounter they had just witnessed.

“No,” Magnus answered. “A warlock. One whom I unfortunately know very well. Her warlock mark is a set of very fearsome viper fangs. Easy mistake.” Despite his chipper guidance, Alec could see a cloud of unsettled concern darken the warlock’s usually carefully carefree countenance. Magnus rubbed his jaw, staring dismally at the space the woman’s gleaming silhouette had occupied.

“Let’s call it a night,” Alec suggested.

An assortment of blank stares met his interjection. He retreated immediately to a defensive tone, scrambling to fend off the perplexed silence.

“Jace and Clary haven’t slept since the night before last,” he reasoned. “And Magnus has expended enough of his magic for now. We have the information we need. Let’s regroup in the morning when we’ve all had a chance to think it over. Magnus, will you forward us everything you know about this woman?”

“Give me your phone,” Izzy chimed in without missing a beat. The warlock handed over the sleek, unprotected touchscreen. She handled it gingerly, unaccustomed to holding a phone without the thick, bomb-proof case commonly used by shadowhunters.

“Here…” she declared, her sing-song tone immediately alerting Alec that something was happening which he did not approve of, “... is Alec’s number. You can send him anything you think of.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jace added, completely oblivious to Izzy’s motivations. “This way, if anything comes up, we can mobilize immediately.”

Alec crossed his arms, shifting his weight and redirecting all of his attention to a very interesting pebble next to his foot.

“Yeah. Yep. Sounds good.”

Magnus accepted the phone back from Izzy with a playful wave of his hand.

“Thank you, Biscuit. I’ll be sure to put it to very good use.”

Magnus produced a portal back to the Institute, stepping aside to let the shadowhunters through. One by one, everyone else stepped into the luminous ring of light and onward into the Institute’s main hall, disappearing from view and leaving Magnus and Alec alone for just a moment. Before he followed the rest of them back home, Alec paused, summoning all of his courage to meet the warlock’s inquisitive brown eyes. Some secret part of him wished for just one more tiny glance at the dazzling, golden cat eyes he’d seen before.

“You should shoot me a text now,” he managed. “To make sure it works.”

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

Magnus Bane and Isabelle Lightwood hunched over the withered corpse on the autopsy table before them.

“This is most certainly the work of Mellie,” Magnus sighed. He adjusted the clear shield over his face.

“Something must have interrupted her,” Izzy added. “She didn’t get to finish the spell. Unfortunately, she got far enough that this guy still ended up… like this.” She waved a hand over the mummified body.

Alec leaned against the wall near the entrance of the morgue, nodding as the two explained their observations. Only two weeks had passed since their initial discovery, but the subject on the table already marked the warlock Melusine’s third known victim.

“Thanks for your help, Magnus,” Izzy said. She stepped away from the metal table, removing her mask. Magnus followed suit, peeling off his gloves as she did. As Izzy brushed past him, she sidestepped—leaving a wide berth around Magnus’ back. Magnus fought to suppress a grin. Alec tilted his head curiously.

“Izzy, is everything alright?” he asked, glancing between the warlock and his sister.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asked Izzy. She spun around, searching for what Alec might be inquiring about. Alec shook his head.

“Never mind.”

The three of them stepped outside the dismal, too-bright room, convening in the hallway.

“I think I should block portaling into, out of, and within New York,” Magnus proposed. “Mellie probably does not know yet that we’re onto her. But after leaving a body behind, she may get nervous. She’s a very capable warlock—if she flees, we will likely lose her forever.”

Alec and Izzy both concurred.

“That seems like a lot of magic,” Alec mused. He crossed his arms, eyes focusing on the High Warlock. “Is that really something you can do alone?”

“With how often you ask these questions, Alexander, I might start to think you doubt my skills,” Magnus teased.

Alec again recalled that day in Magnus’ apartment, when they saved Luke Garroway together. He had felt a momentary connection while Magnus channeled him—almost like a parabatai bond. He could feel the warlock’s energy—the rush of the magic, the sheer exhaustion of skirmishing with death itself. Fighting demons was strenuous for shadowhunters—but that level of magic? Alec couldn’t imagine performing feats like that on a regular basis. What if he gets hurt?

“I don’t doubt you, Magnus,” he clarified quietly. “I’m just… “

Alec trailed off, his brain catching up with the words he was about to say. Worried. Concerned. Afraid to put you in harm’s way. He let the sentence hang, clearing his throat and redirecting the conversation as if to correct himself.

“Thank you. It will be very helpful. Let us know if we can do anything to assist.” Alec’s voice reverted to a more official tone.

A subtle, warm smile brightened the warlock’s expression. It reached his eyes more than his mouth—a quiet, joyful sparkle. It brought memories of shimmering gold and magic to the forefront of Alec’s thoughts. But Magnus’ irises remained a deep, thoughtful brown.

“I understand, Alexander.”

After Magnus Bane departed, Alec turned back to Izzy. She made no pretense of hiding her suggestive grin.

“ I don’t doubt you, Magnus! ” she crooned.

“Shut up.”

“ Let us know if we can do anything to assist! ”

“I do not talk like that.” Alec turned and strode away down the hallway. Izzy followed close at his heels, reminding Alec of an annoying, yappy puppy.

“What was up with you in there, anyway?” Alec turned the tables on her as they headed toward the cafeteria. “You were avoiding Magnus’ back. Did something happen?”

“That’s what you were asking about?” Izzy realized. “Oh my gosh, you don’t know!”

“Know what?” They had stopped again, hovering outside the entrance to the echoing mess hall.

“Magnus told me his warlock mark,” Izzy sang, dragging the words out as if she dangled some sort of tasty treat in front of her brother. “I assumed he would have told you that sort of thing already.”

“Why would he tell me that?” Alec retorted. “And what does that have to do with you avoiding his back?”

“He has wings,” Izzy chanted. Alec was getting very sick of her singsong tone. “Like an angel! And since glamours can only disguise appearance, not make something disappear altogether, I didn’t want to bump into them accidentally!”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Izzy, that’s absurd.”

“Ask him yourself,” she goaded. “I’ve seen you sneaking glances at your phone the past few weeks. You think you’re acting all covert when you shoot off those little messages, but I know exactly who you’re sending them to.”

Alec decided to return to ignoring his sister while he fetched some lunch. The worst part was that Izzy wasn’t wrong—Alec and Magnus had developed a regular habit of trading messages throughout the day. But they were menial, friendly. Izzy had no idea what she was talking about.

“Izzy,” he reflected, calling her attention from across the table as they sat down. “Do you remember when we saved Luke?”

“Of course!” Izzy rejoined, thrilled to return to the topic.

“So you know that when Magnus was channeling me, I touched his back, right?”

Izzy tilted her head, thinking about the dramatic events of that evening. She had only heard about it secondhand, but the idea of stoic, traditional Alec helping a warlock do magic still tickled her.

“And… ?” she urged, hoping for some juicy detail.

“And, Izzy, he definitely did not have wings.”

Alec’s sister frowned at him, still determined to believe the tale. “But then… why would he let me believe that?”

“If I recall, you spent the entirety of last week pestering him about his warlock mark and throwing guesses at him. Did you ever consider that maybe it’s kind of personal?” Alec shook his head, exasperated. “Some people have boundaries, Iz.”

“Yeah, but when we were at the second victim’s house this weekend, I asked him if he had wings like an angel, and he laughed!”

Alec pressed his hands against his temples, staring down at the table. He was glad he hadn’t been present for that one. “I would laugh at that too.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Izzy insisted. “It was a knowing laugh. And then I pressed it, and he just shrugged and grinned at me.”

Alec did not argue with her further, only shook his head. He watched with some amusement as Izzy’s resolve began to melt in front of him.

“Wait, so he’s just been letting me make a fool of myself?”

Alec Lightwood - 12:08

Izzy is just now realizing that you've probably been messing with her.

Alec found himself initiating one of the friendly, menial conversations Izzy had been teasing about, peeking down at his phone under the table. It didn’t take long for Magnus to respond.

Magnus Bane - 12:12

Anything for Izzy. 🙃

 

Alec Lightwood - 12:13

You shouldn’t say that. 😂

 

Magnus Bane - 12:13

😅 I mean anything for her entertainment.

 

Alec Lightwood - 12:14

You shouldn't say that either! 😏

You clearly haven’t spent enough time around her.

“No way,” Izzy continued. “He wouldn’t drag it on like this unless there was some truth to it. Magnus’ warlock mark definitely has to be wings. Or something wing-like. Maybe when he was channeling you, he had some extra strong glamour spells to make them truly imperceptible.”

“Right,” Alec countered, “because while he’s expending almost everything he has to keep an old friend alive, he’s going to be worried about saving the last bits of magic to keep a glamour spell going.”

Magnus Bane - 12:15

I always have the excuse of “Sorry I'm very old and I’m not American, so I don't know what I'm saying.”

 

Alec Lightwood - 12:16

Lmao Magnus we know that excuse is bullshit for you.

 

Magnus Bane - 12:16

Hey, no it’s not! You know, when I was a child, America didn’t even exist.

A clatter on the table startled Alec’s attention back to the chairs around him, one of which was now occupied by his parabatai. Operating on nosy instinct, Jace was already leaning over to steal a glimpse of Alec’s screen. Alec hastily switched it off, spiriting the phone back into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Jace asked.

“Yeah,” Alec answered, focusing on his food. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

~

The rest of the afternoon came and went before Alec heard from the beguiling warlock again. His phone danced across his desk, and he leapt at the excuse to take a break from his least favorite responsibility as Head of the Institute: paperwork.

Magnus Bane - 22:23

I heard you revisited the third scene this afternoon. Why wasn’t I invited along?

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:23

You said you had plans when you were leaving after the autopsy.

… I sort of assumed it involved drinking.

I didn’t think you’d be in the headspace for official work.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:24

I was just meeting a client.

I do still offer my services as a warlock to the general public, you know. Even if you have been monopolizing most of my time lately.

A twinge of guilt shot briefly through Alec’s ribcage. Magnus was never anything but helpful to them, and here he was accusing the man of alcoholism.

Alec Lightwood - 22:25

You’re right, that was wrong of me.

1pm is a bit early for drinking.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:25

…

… yes, probably.

Alec snickered, a quiet laugh almost lost in the dark, empty office. He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on when the sun set, and now sat in the shadows, illuminated only by the glow of his laptop’s screensaver.

Alec Lightwood - 22:25

… Or is it? Lol.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:26

Umm I mean yes most of the time probably.

Don't follow my example, Alexander. I'm a bad influence.

But I want it to be known that I don't *generally* drink so early. 😅

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:27

I'll make sure not to assume so again. 😁

After a minute without an answer, Alec returned his attention to the papers before him—an early draft of his report to the Clave on the latest findings in the Melusine case. He would have to have Izzy read it over and edit it for him in the morning. His phone once again interrupted his train of thought.

Magnus Bane - 22:29

I mean I don't blame you.

I think people assume I'm more of a substance abuser than I am.

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:30

Haha, no I think it’s cool.

Do you smoke, too?

Alec felt childish typing that message out, but he was curious. Growing up in a place like the Institute stole away most of his chances to explore the way that mundanes and downworlders did—in many aspects of the word. He snuck one or two opportunities for himself as a teenager, but those were rare and short-lived. Somewhere buried in the back of his mind, he felt like he missed out on an important part of growing up.

The silence in the room suddenly seemed smothering. Dwelling on all of his missed opportunities was a path that never turned out well for him. He was grateful when the response came, distracting him now not only from his paperwork, but also his own spiral of regretful conjecture.

Magnus Bane - 22:30

I do!

Wait… do you?!

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:31

Hahaha it’s been awhile.

At the warlock’s surprise, a grin broke though Alec’s doleful contemplation. He had never actually told anyone about the rare evenings he used to steal away to the Institute roof. Jace eventually caught on and joined him once, but by that time, Alec’s very brief flirtation with stonerdom had mostly passed.

Magnus Bane - 22:34

In that case, we should grab a drink and smoke at my place sometime.

I’m going through a glasswork phase and I’m thinking of making myself a bubbler that glows. Not completely certain about the design yet, though.

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:34

One that glows?? Like with magic?

 

Magnus Bane - 22:35

Well, magic hardly seems necessary in this instance. I was leaning more toward LEDs. Or maybe phosphorescent pigment in the glass for a more subtle effect.

Alec imagined the warlock painstakingly crafting drug paraphernalia in some secret workshop, taking extra care to make sure it had the pizzazz necessary to suit his tastes. Only the best and most unique items for Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn—even when it came to illicit substances. Or perhaps especially when it came to illicit substances.

Alec Lightwood - 22:35

I don't know how you come up with such ideas... but you make everything more beautiful.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:36

Are you sure you’re not the drunk one?! 😊😅

Alec’s heart hammered. He felt a bit queasy. Why had he typed that? He searched quickly for a way to backtrack, to make his words seem less provocative.

Alec Lightwood - 22:37

I just mean, have you looked at your house??

It’s just very you. That’s all.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:37

Well then, thank you! I do my best. I enjoy making spaces beautiful.

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:38

Even if that space is the inside of a bong. 😂

 

Magnus Bane - 22:38

Lol it makes me happy to be surrounded by beautiful things.

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:38

Everyone likes to be surrounded by beautiful things. Not everyone works to create those things like you do.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:39

How can I expect my environment to be beautiful if I don't put in effort to make it so?

 

Alec Lightwood - 22:39

That’s what makes you so special. I admire it.

 

Magnus Bane - 22:40

Thank you, Alexander. I admire you too.

Somehow, Alec had texted himself into a corner again. He asked himself why he kept sending messages like that—ambiguous phrases that left open the question as to whether or not he was flirting. But he already knew the answer. He wanted to. He just didn’t know how to do it without being a coward. He wondered if his Courage in Combat rune would help him here.

Finally, after staring blankly at the untouched report on his desk for almost fifteen minutes, he surrendered, sliding his phone back into his hand.

Alec Lightwood - 22:54

Hey.

Did you mean what you said about grabbing a drink?

Chapter Text

Little occurred in the way of progress on the Melusine case over the next few days. Even if it had, Alec likely would not have noticed. He was too preoccupied with one thought: he had a date with Magnus Bane.

Not a date. We never said it was a date. Alec reminded himself of that regularly. It’s just… dinner. And drinks. In his house. At night.

He had wanted to bring something. Izzy always babbled on and on to him about her dates and relationships, even when he didn’t care to hear it. One of the many unbidden dating tips she had given him was to always bring something when visiting someone for the first time—and that, generally, wine was the safest bet. Unfortunately, Alexander Lightwood knew nothing about wine. What he did know was that anything he picked out would probably be nowhere near the standards of the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

And so, there he stood, two minutes early, outside the apartment door of Magnus Bane, with nothing to offer but his company.

Why do I always have to be so punctual? Can’t I arrive somewhere just a bit late, just once? A swarm of jitters ricocheted through him. Maybe I should just turn around and go. I could say there was a demon attack. I have to go help, sorry I couldn’t make it, maybe another time…

The door swung open.

“You know, you don’t have to wait until exactly eight o’clock to knock on the door, Alexander.” Magnus looked like he was suppressing a laugh. Color rushed to Alec’s face, flooding his skin with a tingling warmth.

“I, uh, wasn’t.” He held up his phone, which he thankfully already had in his hand. “Just got a text from Jace about something back at the Institute. Had to respond,” he lied.

“Ah, official Shadowhunter business,” Magnus said. “All good now?” He leaned against the door, head on his arm. The collar of his loose, currant red shirt hung open, a deep cut v-neck with no buttons that left much of the center of his chest exposed. Over the swathe of skin left bare by the silky fabric, he wore a tangled array of dark necklaces. Alec couldn’t help but think he resembled a model for one of those mundane clothing stores that always smelled thickly of cologne.

“... Yep.” Alec caught himself staring and redirected his attention very hastily back to the warlock’s eyes. His own clothing choices had been limited—black t-shirt, or collared black button-up. He went with the latter, leaving the top two buttons undone so he didn’t look too much like he had just come from a long day at a desk job. That was about the full extent of Alec’s knowledge of fashion and clothing.

“Well, come on in.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything,” Alec apologized, stepping inside. “I have no idea what kind of wine you’d like. Or if I would even be capable of finding it.” That got a chuckle from Magnus, and Alec relaxed a bit.

“Well, you’re right about that. I source my wine from all around the world. Most of it is older than you are.”

The reminder of Magnus’ age left Alec feeling very young and immature. How was he supposed to hold a conversation with someone who had lived so many lifetimes when he had lived barely a quarter of his own? What could he possibly say that would hold any amount of interest for someone as fascinating as an immortal warlock?

Following Magnus’ lead, he seated himself on the sofa. He wished he could remain standing. He felt very vulnerable just sitting there. Magnus poured honey-gold liquid from a dark bottle into the crystal glasses on the coffee table before them.

“This is orange wine from Georgia,” Magnus explained, then added, “the country, not the state.”

“It’s made from oranges?” Alec reached for his glass curiously, imagining a syrupy, citrus flavor.

“No,” Magnus laughed. “It’s made from white grapes. It’s called orange wine because of the color—just as rosé is red grapes fermented without the skins in the manner of white wine, orange wine is white grapes fermented with the skin in the manner of reds. I’ve found that friends who aren’t accustomed to the taste of wine take more readily to something milder like this—like a stepping stone before diving right into the stronger, more full-bodied reds.”

Alec nodded as if the majority of Magnus’ words hadn’t just flown right over his head. He couldn’t even think of a follow-up question for that. He realized this must be what outsiders felt like when he discussed shadowhunter business in front of them. The only experience he'd had with alcohol was champagne, or an occasional, watered-down cocktail at a few formal events in Idris. This was his first real glass of wine, and he worried that it was showing.

Alec was unsure if there was some proper way to consume wine. He waited for Magnus to take a sip from his own glass before following suit, imitating the way the warlock held it and the pace at which he drank. Contrary to his original expectations, the wine wasn’t syrupy. Only the barest hint of sweetness met his tongue—the kind of natural sugariness found in peanuts, or almonds. But the overwhelming flavor was crisp, almost sour, like green apples. At first taste, Alec wasn’t sure he liked it. But the more he tried, the more he enjoyed it.

“What do you think?” Magnus asked. “Am I converting you to the ways of alcoholism?”

Alec grinned, recalling his earlier blunder when he inadvertently accused Magnus of having a drinking problem.

“It’s good. I think I could be convinced.” He set the glass back on the table. If he held it in his hand, he knew he’d keep absent-mindedly sipping it.

“I personally prefer the orange wines of Slovenia, but Georgian ones are a near universal crowd-pleaser, so I thought it would be a better starting choice.”

Alec nodded cluelessly again. They sat in silence for a moment—one which Alec couldn’t identify as either comfortable or awkward. Not wanting to force Magnus to lead the entire conversation, he grasped desperately for anything to say.

“Magnus, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Alec started, settling on the only thing he knew he could converse about confidently—his job. “How do you actually know Melusine?” The warlock now followed Alec’s lead and set his wine glass on the table.

“Well, that’s a rather dour topic,” he answered.

“Sorry,” Alec responded sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.” Well, actually, it is. If Magnus Bane had some personal connection to the rogue warlock, the Institute needed to know. But for once, Alec felt very guilty about prying. And tonight was hardly the appropriate time.

“No, it’s okay. It’s probably something you should know anyways, since you’re leading the investigation,” Magnus said, as if reading Alec’s thoughts. If it weren’t for his protective runes, the shadowhunter might have wondered if that were really the case—there had to be a spell for that.

“Melusine is like somewhat of a daughter to me,” Magnus explained. “I found her, abandoned and alone, while I was travelling in France a little over a hundred years ago. Like many warlock children, she had no one left who would care for her. They can be a bit… difficult… to manage.

“So I took her in. She bounced between me and a few other of my warlock associates over the next few decades, until she was old enough and controlled enough to go off on her own.”

Alec’s stomach sank. When Magnus said he knew the woman, he hadn’t imagined he knew her that well. The incredible vastness of the warlock’s age stretched out again before the young shadowhunter.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, not knowing what else to say. “It must be very difficult now, to watch as so many people work to hunt her down.”

Alec’s chest tightened at Magnus’ bittersweet smile.

“It’s okay,” Magnus replied. “She always was just a little bit too reckless. Her treatment at the hands of her mundane family scarred her forever. Most warlocks move on from that, learn to forgive, or at least forget. Melusine never did. Grudges are her specialty. Really, I feel guilty myself that I never saw this coming.”

“It’s not your fault.” Alec wanted to do something comforting—to place a hand on Magnus’ shoulder, or his knee. But he kept thinking about how that might look. He did not think they were close enough for that, and he didn’t want to appear as if he was making some sort of move, capitalizing on the warlock’s emotions. Instead, Alec sat there in silence, hoping that his presence could be enough. After many long seconds, the warlock brightened.

“I think it’s only fair that I also get to ask you a personal question in return, don’t you think?”

A suspicious cloud of foreboding floated to the forefront of Alec’s consciousness.

“... I guess that seems fair.” He regretted the words immediately.

“So tell me,” Magnus scooted closer, lifting Alec’s glass delicately off the table and placing it back in his hand before retrieving his own. “Why did you and Lydia call off your engagement? It seemed very sudden.”

Alec’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. By the feigned ignorance in the warlock’s tone, he had a feeling that Magnus already knew the answer to that one. He stood up, wandering over to the apartment’s tall windows and their glimmering night time view of the city. His ears tuned in to Magnus’ soft footsteps as he followed. His earlier anxiety returned, his throat constricting. He sipped his wine, the action forcing the muscles in his neck to relax.

“You were right,” he admitted quietly, staring down into the few drops of sunset-hued liquid that remained in his glass.

“About what?” Magnus pressed. Though Alec’s eyes were on his wine glass, Magnus’ eyes fixed steadily on Alec. Alec mentally shuffled through all the possible ways he could answer that question. He imagined himself bold and unapologetic, like the warlock standing next to him. Stating his feelings plainly, for a man he barely knew, come what may. That wasn’t him.

“Uh-uh, no.” Alec shook his head, finally returning the warlock’s gaze with a playful smile. He hoped it didn’t look too awkward or forced. “You got one question. That was it.”

“But that was hardly an answer!” Magnus protested.

“Next time, ask a better question,” Alec teased.

“Playing the mysterious one, are we? We’ll see about that,” the warlock ventured. He waved his fingers over Alec’s almost empty glass, refilling it.

“Wait, are you just trying to get me drunk so I’ll answer you?” Alec asked, mocking offense.

“Don’t be such a cream puff, Alexander. It’s your second glass.”

Suitably abashed, Alec obediently sipped the wine. Magnus watched with satisfaction. The affectionate banter sparked a velvety warmth in Alec’s chest. As he and Magnus parried back and forth with clever quips and cute remarks, finishing off the bottle, the warmth spread gradually across his whole body, along with all the other effects of the wine.

~

“You, my dear shadowhunter, are a lightweight,” Magnus chortled. They both leaned against his bar, next to empty glasses that now each held only a tawny residue in the bottom.

My dear shadowhunter, Alec repeated fondly to himself. His heart skipped a beat. Out loud, however, he remained indignant.

“I’m not tipsy,” Alec insisted. The stupid smile on his face did not match the vexation of his tone. “I’m just saying, I don’t see how having dirt floating around in the wine is a desirable quality. You’d think someone would take thirty seconds to pour it through a strainer before bottling it.”

“It’s sediment, Alexander. It gives the wine an earthy, velvety taste. Much more common in red wines—especially the very old, very good ones.”

“So it really is dirt?” As an aside to himself, he repeated the sentiment. “I’ve been drinking dirt.” Then, his tone became accusatory as he turned back to Magnus. “You’ve been feeding me dirt!”

“I’ve been feeding you a priceless vintage that some people would go to great lengths to get their hands on.”

“To drink dirt.”

“It is not dirt! It’s dead yeast, grape solids, and tannins.”

“So it’s more like… wet dust.” Alec found himself relishing the horror he provoked in Magnus’ expression. He adored how he could press all of the warlock’s many buttons so easily. Magnus scrunched his face together, shaking his head in distaste.

“You’re a savage. No, even worse! A savage who can’t hold his booze!”

“And you,” Alec snickered, “are so cute when you make that face.” My dear warlock, he added silently. Magnus stuttered for a second and blushed, staring down at the dregs in his empty glass.

Gotcha, Alec thought, pride bolstering his brief surge of self-esteem. Maybe he was a little bit tipsy. On instinct, he double checked his phone to make sure no one had called him. The Head of the Institute never really got a day off, and if he started ignoring his phone, there was a small chance Jace would track him down and come bursting through Magnus’ front door, weapons at the ready.

His notifications remained miraculously empty, but it was the other side of the status bar that caught Alec’s eye and sent him into a small panic: the time.

“Holy shit Magnus, it’s 2am.”

“I know,” the warlock sighed. “Amazing how time flies.” He capered over to his kitchen sink, where he rinsed his glass and refilled it with water.

“No,” Alec elucidated. “It’s 2am, and I have to be up at five.”

Magnus has just begun to sip the water, and now promptly choked on it.

“Why didn’t you tell me that at the beginning of the evening? You’re in no state to drive.”

“Ok, firstly,” Alec maintained, holding up a defensive finger, “I am really not drunk. And secondly, I took an Uber. I’ll take one home.”

“Shadowhunters taking Ubers,” Magnus mused. “What a time to be alive.” This time, he managed to keep his sip of water in his mouth.

“Hey, it’s 2016” Alec responded, dripping with sarcasm. “And banning portaling was your idea, High Warlock.” He found his jacket crumpled into a ball on Magnus’ sofa and slid it over his arms. He noticed the warlock’s eyes drifting as he did so, and found himself milking it just a little, stretching a bit more than necessary.

“Watch your tone, young man. You’re speaking to an elder.”

Alec snorted.

“Car’s here,” he stated after checking his phone again.

The comfort and ease with which they had spent the last several hours crumbled, and Alec found himself suddenly suffocated by a heavy, uneasy silence. Shadowhunter and warlock both stood there, a few feet away from each other, grasping for words and actions that would not come. Alec’s throat tightened.

What do I do? Should I… kiss him? Was this even a date? His heart raced. Finally, after what was likely only a few seconds, Magnus broke the silence with a warm, assuring smile.

“It was good to see you, Alexander. I’d like to do this again sometime. I think then, you’ll be ready for me to bring out the Bordeaux Reds.”

“Me too,” Alec managed. He didn’t know what Bordeaux Reds were, but he assumed it was another old, expensive wine. “Thank you for having me.” He sounded so strangely formal. “I’ll, uh, probably see you tomorrow. Or, I guess, today.”

“See you then,” Magnus answered. Still, neither of them moved. Alec took that as his cue.

“Don’t want to keep the car waiting,” he stammered quietly. He waited another terrifying heartbeat, unsure what he was expecting to happen, then turned briskly and strode out the door.

Alec slid gracefully into the back of the silver sedan waiting for him in front of Magnus’ building, mumbling a short greeting to the driver.

“Late night,” the mundane commented, pulling the car out into the sparse traffic. “What have you been up to? Have a cute date?”

Alec smiled, staring out the window as skyscrapers drifted by. He rarely got to see the city like this. “Actually, yeah, I think so.”

Chapter Text

Alec stirred at the sound of his alarm, struggling against the weight of his eyelids. The near complete darkness of his bedroom blanketed him in continued sleepiness. He curled up in the toasty den underneath his comforter, shying away from the chilly world outside of his bed.

It took him five minutes to drag himself off of the mattress, leaving his normally neatly-made bed in disarray. A faint headache pulsed behind his eyes, provoking him to activate his iratze before attempting anything else. He went through the motions of the rest of his routine in a half-awake state, momentarily regretting his evening with Magnus for the first time since they planned it.

After downing a large glass of water from his bathroom sink, Alec sought out the nearest espresso. Coffee was the one vice Alec engaged in regularly—though according to Magnus, it didn’t count. One of the first things he’d done as Head of the Institute—after the more responsible, serious necessities—was update the building’s coffee amenities. Shadowhunters, with their often irregular schedules and late nights, required a steady supply of caffeine. Unfortunately for him, Alec had long passed the point where caffeine actually did much for him. But the warm, inviting smell of espresso still held some amount of placebo, and gave him at least one single reason not to give up on all of his responsibilities and go back to bed.

The lingering scent of rose syrup and vanilla soymilk indicated that Clary had already been by. Though Alec had been the driving force behind the espresso itself, Clary had fought tooth and nail for the rest of the components—milks and flavors and all manner of sweeteners, none of which Alec understood. He pulled a double shot for himself and sipped it as he shuffled to the training room.

“You’re late,” Jace stated, jumping to his feet. His tone reminded Alec of the one he used when Alec first announced his engagement to Lydia—bewildered and concerned. That conversation already seemed like forever ago, even though it had barely been two months.

“Yep,” Alec grunted. Jace waited for further explanation, but Alec offered none.

“Were you… up late?” Jace questioned. Alec had never been late before, except one time when they were kids, when he got stung by a venomous demon on mission and was supposed to be laid up in bed for days. Even then, he stumbled into their training session only a few minutes late, instead of sitting it out like he was supposed to. Alec showing up to anything late simply did not compute in Jace's brain. He fell back into a ready pose, inviting Alec to make the first move. Alec declined to, instead mimicking Jace’s pose with slight exaggeration.

“I was,” Alec answered. He knew that if he lied, Jace would know—part of the miracle of parabatai bonds. But Alec wasn’t ready to discuss his evening with Magnus with anybody yet. Not even Jace or Izzy. His relationship—or lack thereof—with the warlock felt too uncertain, too delicate. Too new. He danced backwards as Jace took his bait, lunging toward him.

“I’ve been meaning to check in with you,” Jace said, retreating to catch his breath. Alec recalled all of the moments when he felt Jace holding back his words, wishing he could say something but refraining.

“You’re my parabatai, Jace. You don’t need to shy away from conversations with me.” A tiny trace of guilt tinged Alec’s words, considering his current unwillingness to discuss his private life with his parabatai. It dissolved quickly, swept aside by his focus on defending, attacking, defending again.

“I just...” Jace started. He paused, stepping back, and Alec followed suit. “I just wanted to say that, even though I said I was happy for you, with the whole Lydia thing, I’m even happier for you now.”

“Happy to see me alone?” Alec teased. He moved to continue the sparring again, picking up a dulled blade and flipping it in his hand, but Jace didn’t follow suit.

“No, Alec, I’m being serious. We’ve never talked about it. I just really want this to be out there. I know you’re gay. Even though you never talk to me about it. And I just want you to know that I care, and I support you. And if you ever need anything, or want to talk about anything, anything, I’m here. I’m your parabatai, Alec. I don’t want you to feel uneasy around me about anything.”

Jace’s heart-to-heart left Alec staring uncomfortably at the floor. He appreciated the sentiment, despite being completely unprepared to react to it. His sleep-deprived brain left him grasping at words that flitted away, just out of reach, so he stood there in silence and nodded.

“And if you don’t want to talk about it past that,” Jace added, “I understand.” At this moment, Jace reminded him of why they were parabatai. Though he didn’t know how to respond, Alec realized he needed to hear Jace’s words.

“Thank you,” Alec answered. They picked back up where they left off.

~

Shortly after 10:00 AM, the main hall of the Institute already bustled with people. With both Valentine and a powerful rogue warlock on the loose, few days could be considered quiet any more. That was not even taking into account the situation with Jocelyn Fairchild, who rested safely enough in one of the Institute’s many rooms. She was the topic of discussion today, her children (it still felt weird for Alec to think of Jace that way) spearheading the effort to find a cure for her comatose state.

“We’re on uncertain enough terms with the vampires as it is,” Alec asserted, sipping from his fourth cup of coffee of the day. “No one is sneaking in talk to Camille. We can find a diplomatic solution, if it comes to that. But she clearly doesn’t have the Book of the White with her in that basement, which means it’s probably unprotected, wherever it is.”

“I don’t think you’re fully appreciating the urgency of the situation,” Jace pressed. “Jocelyn isn’t just a shadowhunter who needs our help, or just Clary’s mother.” Quietly, under her breath, Clary corrected Jace with a hint of annoyance.

“Our mother.”

Jace continued as if he hadn’t heard, “She could also be the key to finding Valentine. She was married to the guy, and spent several weeks captive with him. If she could perceive anything while in that state, she could be our most valuable asset in this fight.” Despite their bonding moment earlier, they were down to business now, along with everyone else at the table.

Everyone except for Magnus Bane.

It wasn’t that the warlock was not taking the discussion seriously. He clearly was. And his contributions thus far had dramatically helped the shadowhunters. He just wouldn’t stop making eye contact with Alec, and it made Alec jumpy.

Every time it happened, Alec momentarily lost his place in the conversation. He had to reset himself, remember what he was about to say. The distraction unnerved him. His hands clammed up. He sometimes stuttered, trying to catch himself up with the conversations his unsettled mind skipped over.

“No,” Alec repeated, avoiding the Magnus’ gaze completely. The strategy sort of worked. The warlock had taken to staring periodically down at his phone, instead of at Alec. “I understand, Jace. I really do. But starting a war with a huge portion of the local Downworld population is not going to get us the results we need. We’re supposed to be protecting them from Valentine, not steamrolling them in our efforts to catch him.”

“He has the cup, Alec,” Clary cut in. “We can’t just sit around and wait.” She leaned over the table with animated agitation, her wavy red hair swaying with each articulation. Her frustration displayed evidently in her tone, as if she thought she was the only one who really cared about figuring this out. Alec found himself getting fired up—even on a good day, Clary vexed him. And today, with his grand total of 90 minutes of sleep, he was not having a good day.

“You think I don’t know that?” Alec snapped. Though the idea of she and Jace being siblings seemed far-fetched and wild at first, moments like these made Alec believe it. Alec’s phone buzzed silently in his back pocket. He ignored it—whatever it was, this meeting took precedence. “Magnus.”

Alec turned to get the warlock’s attention, but found Magnus already staring intently in his direction. Taken by surprise, he stumbled over his words.

“You, have a, uh, a… ” He waved his hand aimlessly as he tried to finish the sentence, “… history… with Camille.”

“I do,” Magnus frowned. “Unfortunately.” His expression grew wary. He didn’t like to get too involved in affairs relating to the deceitful vampiress.

“Can you think of anyone else who might have a more intimate knowledge of Camille’s property?”

The warlock rolled his eyes.

“Oh, sure, many. That’s why she and I were never meant to be, you know. I’m more of a monogamous, long-term commitment kind of guy.” He paused to cast Alec a pointed glance. “Whereas Camille… let’s just say she prefers to spread her intimate knowledge around to anyone who tickles her fancy.”

“... okay.” Alec shifted his weight, realizing that everyone’s eyes were on him, conversing with Magnus. He did his best to brush off the meaningful look the warlock had given him. “Well, what about favorite meeting places? Secret getaways where she could lay low outside of the public eye?”

“She had many,” Magnus shrugged. “I’m not familiar with her hidey holes in New York, myself. By the time I took up residence here, she and I were long finished. And I’d rather never have to interact with that soulless termagant again.” He punctuated his statement with a vitriolic smile, clearly still harboring some resentment.

“Alright, listen,” Alec said to the group, moving the topic away from Magnus’ romantic endeavors as quickly as possible. “First thing’s first. We’re going to talk to Rafael. And I do mean talk.” He stopped to make direct eye contact with Jace, then with Clary, emphasizing his words to them in particular. “If we’re lucky, it may be as simple as just asking.”

“We’re never lucky,” Izzy sighed. Alec’s phone buzzed in his pocket again.

“That might be true,” Alec agreed. “But we have to at least try to do things the right way. If we can’t get access to Camille through the proper channels, then we’ll discuss something more… unorthodox.” Buzz buzz.

“At least let me go!” Clary insisted, almost pouting. “I can’t sit around and do nothing while my mother wastes away.”

“She’s not wasting away,” Alec corrected impatiently. Why is she always so dramatic? At some point, his headache from earlier that morning had crept back in. “Magnus already confirmed that the potion is keeping her in perfect health. Yes, it sucks that she’s in this state, but no harm is coming to her in the meantime. You know that, Clary.”

Clary crossed her arms, sulking in a way that indicated Alec may have spoken a bit too harshly. Jace raised an eyebrow in Alec’s direction. Really? he seemed to say. Alec wasn’t in the mood to deal with them. Nor was he in the mood to dance around their barely post-adolescent feelings. He wanted—no, needed—a nap. Buzz buzz.

With a huff, he snatched his phone out of his pocket, sliding open his messenger and wondering what could be so important that someone not currently seated around the table would be messaging him so insistently.

Seven new messages from… Magnus Bane? Alec’s eyes darted upward, still sharp from his heated exchange with Clary. He caught the warlock’s eyes—wide, and sheepish. Magnus’ eyebrows swept together in worry, and Alec realized he probably looked angry. He often did, even when he didn’t mean to. Izzy called it his “RGF”—Resting Grumpy Face. He hated that name.

Alec redirected his attention back down to the most recent few messages, curious what the warlock could have possibly been texting him during the meeting that he couldn’t say out loud.

Magnus Bane - 10:17

Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you are the head of this Institute and not your parabatai?

Said with the utmost respect for your bond, of course.

 

Magnus Bane - 10:21

Do you think if Jace was raised mundane, he also would have gone to art school like his sister?

I imagine him as the self-pitying type who expresses his deep, supererogatory emotional pain through aggressive, abstract splatter paintings.

Alec bit his lip, struggling to contain the giggle that fought so determinedly to bubble up from his chest. This was completely inappropriate. He should be very upset.

He won the battle against the laughter, finally fighting it off, and realized how tensely he had been holding his shoulders—clenching the muscles around his arms, neck, and jaw. He relaxed, his entire stance shifting into something more approachable.

“Clary,” he commanded, tearing his eyes away from the screen as if it had been a very important message. “You’re right. You should be there. Take your vampire friend along, too. Jace, you are not going. I know you well enough not to send you into a delicate situation.” The two stubborn, hot-headed shadowhunter siblings looked at each other in confusion, unsure how they had just won that argument. Alec continued. “Izzy, you have always been the best of us when it comes to diplomacy. Please make sure Clary and Simon don’t do anything stupid.”

Izzy beamed. “You can count on me!”

Alec finally met Magnus’ eyes again, allowing a tiny smile to ever so slightly curve the corner of his lips. Magnus’ eyes sparkled with mischief, his earlier concern that he had overstepped melting into a warm, blushing grin. As the others drifted away to plan their mission, Alec meandered over toward the warlock.

“You are awful,” he murmured. “I should be upset with you.”

“No you shouldn’t,” Magnus answered, winking. Alec’s heart leapt into his throat. Magnus added, “Were you able to catch up on sleep after last night?” The coyness in the warlock’s expression almost implied that something more had happened the night before than just drinking and talking. Alec blushed.

“Uh, no. I’m running on coffee and willpower,” he admitted.

“Ah yes,” the warlock replied. “Alexander Lightwood’s only vice: the very rebellious, dangerous… coffee bean!” He finished his theatrical gibe with a flourish of his hand, staring up at it as if he had just finished an onstage soliloquy.

“Alright, listen,” Alec cut in, swatting Magnus’ hand down. “I happen to like coffee. Not all of us can start the day with mimosas and bellinis.”

“And judging by your tolerance, it’s a very good thing you don’t,” the warlock shot back. “I bet you even woke up today with a hangover. But I’m sure we’ll fix that, over time.”

Alec chortled, shaking his head. “Why do I even put up with you? Get out of my Institute.”

“Fine, I was on my way out anyways,” Magnus tried to mock a grouchy tone, but failed. “I have to sort through my Bordeaux Reds for our next dinner.”

“When is that?” Alec asked a bit too hastily, head turning to follow the warlock as he swaggered away. Magnus Bane ignored him, strutting out the doors of the Institute without looking back. Something in Alec’s ribcage tugged to follow him, but he stayed put.

When he turned back to the table, Izzy stood across from him.

“What was that about?” she asked playfully.

“Nothing,” Alec answered. “Camille. Don’t worry about it.”

“Whatever you say, big brother.”

Chapter Text

Alec leaned his right shoulder against the wood-paneled wall by his bedroom door, a pleasant buzz lifting the fog of stress that usually weighed on the edges of his lips. In his right hand, he thoughtfully rotated an almost-empty martini glass. His left hand rested in the front pocket of his pants, resulting in a casual, flirty pose that he would never be caught in while sober, nor ever in front of anyone other than the infinitely mystifying warlock, Magnus Bane.

Really, he just didn’t know what else to do with his left hand. This problem was a new one for him—as the head of the Institute, his nature tended toward quiet confidence and stoic leadership. Even around Jace, whom he always cared for deeply, he never felt anxious in this way. But something about Magnus threw that self-assurance into disarray.

Alec Lightwood didn’t know what to do with himself.

Slightly stifling the gentle, giddy smile that had been fighting its way out the whole evening, he stared down into his glass and continued to very slowly, gradually spin it between his index finger and thumb.

“... at that point,” Magnus was saying, “it’s just a very playful, exciting conversation.”

He brought his own glass to his mouth in a wide gesture, taking a generous sip. Alec watched, swallowing reflexively, suddenly slightly shorter of breath and finding himself unable to tear his eyes from the warlock’s lips.

The promise that he had made to himself earlier that day wormed its way to the forefront of his mind along with a fluttery cloud of anxiety. This time I’m going to kiss him. Tonight. I have to kiss him tonight. No more losing my nerve. I told myself I would. I can do this.

“But how is that not manipulation?” Alec asked, standing up straight and freeing his left hand so he could emphasize his question by spreading his arms to each side. “Sure, I admit there’s a fine line between flirting and manipulation, but at some point you’re deliberately thinking things like ‘I wonder if I can get this person to do what I want ?’”

Alec thought he’d gotten very good at hiding his nervousness from Magnus. It was a strange case of cognitive dissonance, how he could feel at once so anxious, yet also so at home and comfortable with this man.

“But is that not exactly what you’re doing when flirting with someone, regardless?” Magnus responded. He punctuated the rhetorical question with a quick snap of his fingers, partially refilling both of their drinks. “Trying to see if you can get them to like you?”

This point momentarily stumped Alec, and he pondered it in silence, taking another tiny sip from his newly-refilled glass. The two of them had started their goodbyes over an hour ago, wandering their way toward the door of his room. But neither of them had opened it—they both continued to talk, and debate, and smile shyly at each other during moments of silence. The threat of Magnus leaving kept Alec desperately searching for new points to make, anything to keep the conversation going and the warlock right there in front of him. He had promised himself he would kiss him tonight, and he was running out of time. But every time he mentally commanded himself to go for it, his body remained exactly where it was.

I can’t do it! he thought to himself. I’m a coward!

“So what you’re saying,” he wondered out loud, choosing his words deliberately and carefully, “Is that you just think it’s completely okay for someone to try to manipulate someone else?”

He returned to his previous pose on the wall, gazing upward toward the ceiling as he thought. They were talking in circles. Something inside him told him that if he made eye contact now, Magnus would somehow know exactly what he was thinking—exactly how hopelessly smitten Alec was with him, exactly how much he wanted nothing more than to grab the front of the warlock’s velvet jacket and never stop kissing him.

They had spent three evenings together already. Each time, Alec went into it wondering if it was a date, and each time, the evening ended without an answer to that question. Alec thought it would drive him mad—the tension, the uncertainty. It always turned out like this, with the two of them talking, flirting, vaguely implying they wanted something more from each other, and never acting on it. He promised himself that, one way or another, he would end this torture tonight. He had to know. He had to kiss him.

“Well…” Now Magnus took his turn to play the thoughtful one. “Yes, I’d say so. As long as the two people are—how would I say it—evenly matched? I mean, if you’re trying to manipulate me, but I know you’re trying to manipulate me, and I’m trying to manipulate you back… well, then it’s just two people having fun. It’s exciting.”

He smiled coyly, waving his arms dramatically and punctuating the flirtation by finishing off the last drops of his drink. Then he snapped his fingers again and, just as they had been summoned earlier that night, both now-empty glasses vanished in a puff of cyan smoke, leaving Alec with two hands that he now awkwardly didn’t know what to do with.

“That being said,” Magnus continued, “it’s been a very fun evening, Alec. Thank you for having me. I can’t believe we’ve spent over an hour just saying goodbye.”

No! Alec internally panicked. Not again! Don’t go! I haven’t kissed you yet!

Outwardly, his cautious smile remained unchanged, and he answered evenly and warmly. “Thanks so much for coming—I really enjoy seeing you.”

The door opened on its own behind Magnus, finally breaking the game of chicken they had been playing since they first made their way over to it. It was just after 2:00 AM, and the hallway outside sat dark and deserted.

“I actually forgot until just now that portaling is still banned,” Magnus mused. “I’m not used to having to deal with long drives home after an evening out.”

Alec frowned for just a second as he recalled their joint investigation, which they’d managed to go the whole evening without mentioning. A warlock had gone rogue, murdering mundanes. Until she was caught, the Clave and Magnus had agreed to ban all portaling into, out of, and within New York. But then, another detail pulled Alec back into the moment.

“You drove?” Alec asked, impressed. For some reason, he always assumed Magnus didn’t know how to.

“Of course,” the High Warlock answered. “I’d loathe to sink to ordering an Uber. I keep a 1937 Talbot-Lago on hand for situations just like these. It’s a beautiful example of the intersection of human ingenuity and art—and it has the loveliest deep sangria color. I’ll have to take you out in it sometime.”

A brief moment of silence followed, which stretched out for ages from Alec’s perspective. Nervousness bubbled up in his stomach again.

“Well then,” Magnus said. “I should be off.”

As Magnus moved to step outside, Alec swayed forward and opened his mouth to speak again, pulling the warlock’s attention back to him. Questioningly and quietly, and desperately hoping he had some semblance of the correct pronunciation, he mumbled out a phrase he had been practicing since their last evening together. “Selamat tidur… harap kita jumpa lagi… ? ”

Though it wasn’t a question, it came out as one, betraying Alec’s nervousness. Magnus’ eyes lit up at the broken Malay, and he chuckled.

Alec found himself completely mesmerised by the graceful, quiet joy in the warlock’s gaze. The gentle and elegant moments in which Magnus displayed happiness were one of the few ways in which he showed his true age. Staring into those endless brown eyes, overwhelmed that he could be the one to cause that tiny spark of happiness, Alec felt like the floor began to slip out from underneath him.

“Joom-pah,” Magnus corrected gently, hovering in the doorway.

“Joom-pah,” Alec repeated, almost whispering. The prolonged eye contact terrified him as much as it thrilled him. His heart hammered in his throat. He couldn’t look away. This was it. This was the moment.

By the angel, Alec realized. I’m going to throw up.

“See you tomorrow,” Magnus murmured, gentle joy still shining subtly in his gaze. And then he was gone.

Alec closed the door and fell forward against it, arms wrapped up around his head and face pressed against the chilly wood. He focused on calming his heart, slowing his breathing. When the muffled echo of Magnus’ footsteps faded completely from his sensitive hearing, a certain amount of relief flooded his veins, as if he’d been fueled by adrenaline alone until this very moment.

What’s wrong with me?! As the energy and excitement from those parting moments subsided, a heavy disappointment slid firmly into its place. I didn’t kiss him.

A long, frustrating future stretched out in Alec’s mind. One where this endless cycle continued. One where he never got to find out if Magnus had any real interest in him. And then, one day, the captivating, fascinating warlock would lose interest completely, and they would slowly stop having these evening rendezvous altogether.

Alec’s horror at this possibility motivated him, and now that Magnus no longer stood directly in front of him, his terrified paralysis subsided. Briefly, he considered sending the warlock a fire message, but quickly dismissed the idea. He may be completely smitten, but he still refused to look desperate. Instead, he darted around his sparsely decorated room until he located his phone, and opened the messaging history between himself and Magnus. Hoping the warlock hadn’t left the parking lot yet, he fired off the first thing he could think of to quickly turn him around.

Alec Lightwood - 02:12

Hey, just got an interesting lead on the case. Too bad you don’t get to see it until tomorrow! 😉

The tone aligned with most of the texts they had been exchanging lately. They teased each other about everything. And Alec noticed Magnus had a bit of a penchant for anticipation—he liked to be taunted with having to wait for things. It had become a game to Alec, trying to figure out how to toe the line between staying professional and teasing this man whom he worked with almost every day.

I really am getting manipulative, aren’t I? he thought. He jumped excitedly at the buzzing response on his phone—Magnus hadn’t left yet! 

Magnus Bane - 02:13

Lol, but you’d tell me if it were really important, now wouldn’t you?

Alec grinned to the empty room, letting himself fall against the wall as he inched into bolder territory.

Alec Lightwood - 02:13

Nope.

… Maybe I’m just trying to manipulate you.

The response came a bit slower this time, and Alec wondered if maybe Magnus had actually left already, and was just texting while driving. He wouldn’t put it past him. But finally, after a whole agonizing minute, the response came. 

Magnus Bane - 02:14

I like that.

Alec momentarily contemplated if it was possible to get bruising from smiling too hard. He shot back a response as quickly as he could. After weeks of unresolved flirtation, he knew how to pave the perfect road to lead Magnus right back to him.

Alec Lightwood - 02:14

What, that I might be manipulating you? 😅

What do you think I’m trying to manipulate you to do?

His pulse picked up again. This was it! It wasn’t too late! All he had to do now was let Magnus guess the answer. Don’t leave. Come back inside. Tell me you feel the same way. He waited impatiently, a new wave of nervous excitement driving him to pace back and forth across the room.

Magnus Bane - 02:14

Yes

That’s what I’m looking forward to finding out.

Only one way to get what I want now, Alec told himself. He took a deep breath, typed up the message, and read it over three or four times. His thumb hovered above the send icon. Another steadying breath, and the message was sent.

By the angel, he immediately thought. Did I actually just send that? 

Alec Lightwood - 02:15

Come back inside, and you can find out right now. 😉

Alec’s hands shook. His first instinct was to delete the message right off the bat. This was so unlike him! What am I doing? What am I doing? WhatamIdoing? He continued to pace back and forth across the area rug that spanned the concrete floor, trying to channel his excess energy into something that didn’t involve staring bug-eyed at the screen. Back, and forth. Back, and forth.

Finally, he stopped in the middle of the room, staring back down at the cold blue light of the messaging app. 2:17 AM. It’s been too long. He’s not looking at his phone any more.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, to miss his opportunity. He took one slow, long, shaky breath. He counted to thirty. Finally, he allowed himself to accept the truth.

Magnus had put down his phone, and started driving home. Alec had missed his chance.

All of the energy rushed out of Alec at once. Disappointment played a role, but the day had been exhausting regardless—he’d started early, put in a full day of shadowhunter-related work, and then gone straight into this “maybe-a-date” evening with Magnus, who had arrived just after 7:30 PM. They had been talking for over six hours! For now, he would have to be content with that. There was no way the dashing High Warlock would return now. He had better things to do with his life than drive all the way back to the Institute for some young mortal he had only been chatting with for a few weeks.

Too shy and self-conscious to allow Magnus to see such a message when he finally got home, Alec opened the app back up and deleted the text. The app left a not-so-subtle marker behind that a message had been deleted, but they teased each other all the time with deleted messages—mostly Alec using them to catch Magnus’ attention and taunt him with what they might have been. It wouldn’t be anything too new or unusual. Honestly, it had become one of Alec’s favorite pastimes—especially when he got Magnus speculating.

Completely drained, Alec peeled off his clothes and collapsed into his bed. 

Alec Lightwood - 02:15

[Alec Lightwood removed a message.]

Chapter Text

Alec’s eyes shot open, startled awake by a sudden, jolting buzzing sensation. He had just begun to drift off, so exhausted that his hand had gone slack with his phone still resting on his palm. It was that which awoke him now. 

Alec Lightwood - 02:15

[Alec Lightwood removed a message.]

 

Magnus Bane - 02:23

😅 here we go

Alec double checked the time, confusion clouding his still sleepy mind. Barely ten minutes had passed. There was no way Magnus had driven home already. He crushed the tiny flicker of hope that warmed his chest. Stop torturing yourself like this.

Alec Lightwood - 02:23

That was a quick drive? Unless you haven’t left yet...

He couldn’t help himself. He had to be absolutely sure.

Magnus Bane - 02:23

Lol, on my way home

Of course, Alec thought. He is actually texting and driving.

Alec Lightwood - 02:24

Don’t text and drive.

I like you too much for you to die.

Alec knew that Magnus was likely in little to no danger from any sort of accident. He might not be able to portal, but he still had all the rest of his magic at his disposal. Still, he enjoyed any excuse to tell Magnus that he liked him without making things awkward. Maybe one day, Magnus would reciprocate the sentiment.

He was rewarded almost immediately with a giant, sparkling heart emoji from the warlock himself.

Fine, Alec thought. You know what? It’s the middle of the night. I’m sleep deprived. I’m a little drunk. I’m basically delirious.  

Alec Lightwood - 02:26

Lmk when you’re home safe I guess, and I’ll be happy to share what I deleted. I only deleted it because I figured it was pointless to send after you’d left already. 😅

Still half asleep, Alec drifted off once more. This time, the buzzing that woke him was on his chest. He felt it across his whole sternum. Determined not to be the one to end the conversation, he fought to lift his heavy eyelids.

Magnus Bane - 02:46

I got home

So, you would prefer if you had said this thing while I was there?

Alec could feel Magnus’ unending curiosity across the airwaves. He bit his lip, feeling all of a sudden quite awake, and quite excited to explain himself.

Alec Lightwood - 02:47

I had typed it out.

Left it there for like 5 minutes

Then figured you were driving already

So I deleted it.

I didn't want it to look like I'd deliberately waited until I knew you'd left. 😅

He didn’t rewrite the deleted message. Not yet. He wanted to make Magnus ask for it. A quickly brushed-aside intrusive thought inspired him to wonder if he could even get the insatiably inquisitive, catlike warlock to say ‘Please.’

Magnus Bane - 02:48

You make me more and more curious, do you know that?

 

Alec Lightwood - 02:49

I like it when you’re curious. It means I have your attention.

Alec couldn’t believe himself. Who am I right now?

Magnus Bane - 02:49

So that means that it wouldn’t have been good if I thought you deliberately waited to send it. Which is actually a good thing.

And I like good things.

He puzzled over the warlock’s logic for a second, trying to figure out what he meant. Was there some specific ‘good thing’ he was alluding to? It was always so vague with Magnus. Was he flirting back? Alec rewrote his next message a few times, trying to dampen his eagerness to push the conversation further into exactly that territory. 

Alec Lightwood - 02:51

I don’t entirely understand your use of the word ‘good’ in this context, but I’m pretty sure it’s similar to the way I usually use ‘bad.’

… Tell me, is that what you’re hoping for?

 

Magnus Bane - 02:51

You got it right

Alec’s heart jumped in his chest. Magnus wants something dirty. He’s really hoping for it! He took a brief moment to bask in this discovery. At the very least, the warlock was interested enough to play games with him. He could work with that. Somehow, he was okay with it—even if it ended there.

Alec Lightwood - 02:51

I think you’ll like this one.

Alec thought back to the message, and carefully retyped it word for word. Inexplicably, a tiny part of him wished it was a bit dirtier. But he didn’t want to lie, either.

A slightly evil idea popped into his mind while he typed. He thought of all the times he had sent Magnus a message, then hovered over his phone, not getting a reply for an hour, sometimes more. He understood that the High Warlock was a busy man, and he didn’t hold those waits against Magnus at all. But why not give him a little taste of the same?

He waited just a few minutes. Long enough to let the warlock grow impatient, but not long enough to let him fall asleep. 

Alec Lightwood - 02:54

---

Alec Lightwood - 02:15

Come back inside, and you can find out right now. 😉

---

 

Waiting was agonizing, but Magnus’ response came only a short few seconds later.

Magnus Bane - 02:55

😂😂 Oh ok, I can see why you deleted that one!

The tension that had been building up across Alec’s entire body promptly deflated. Magnus was laughing at him! On principal, he immediately went back and deleted the pasted message once more.

Alec Lightwood - 02:55

See? And now I'm never telling you again. 😅

 

Magnus Bane - 02:56

Did you delete it because you were afraid I might actually come back??

 

Alec Lightwood - 02:56

No, I deleted it because it became clear you already left.

 

Magnus Bane - 02:56

So you were ok with me coming back from the parking lot, but not from the highway?

Alec had to pause to consider this. If he had known Magnus would be checking his phone on the road, would he have deleted the message? No, he decided. If he wasn’t far off, it still would have been reasonable. 

Alec Lightwood - 02:57

I didn't think you'd check your messages on the highway.

I figured you'd get home and see it and it would look like I purposely waited for you to leave knowing you wouldn't turn around.

 

Magnus Bane - 02:58

Well, since I tease you sometimes, it would have been a fair thing to do.

The tension crept back in, starting in Alec’s chest, and crawling toward other extremities. He liked it when Magnus used clear, explicit words like ‘tease.’ It instilled some confidence that the High Warlock really did genuinely reciprocate Alec’s feelings.

He knew that if Jace were in the same situation as he was right now, his parabatai would have already closed the deal, assuming from the start that the other person was obsessively interested in him. But Alec never had that confidence when it came to his personal life. Still, there had to be something there. After all, Magnus spent over six hours talking with him, then after driving almost an hour home, he got right back on his phone to continue the conversation. No one would do that unless they were really interested… right?

Alec decided to take on a more direct, honest tone. It was three in the morning. What did he really have to lose at this point?

Alec Lightwood - 02:58

I don’t bluff to you.

Magnus, however, was still stuck on that deleted comment.

Magnus Bane - 03:00

Did that message really have a “😉” at the end?

 

Alec Lightwood - 03:00

Yes.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:01

It makes me smile every time I read it.

You may want to save it somewhere.

 

Alec Lightwood - 03:01

Oh? Why would I do that?

 

Magnus Bane - 03:02

In case you want to use it again 😉

Alec reread that message repeatedly. He flipped over on his bed, propping his chin up on his pillow so he could stare at the phone in front of him, grinning like a teenage girl. Was Magnus deliberately opening up another opportunity for him? Even if so, he probably means at a later time. Still, Alec felt too invested not to keep pressing him.

Alec Lightwood - 03:04

Lol, I don't know, didn't work out too well this time around.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:05

You know, I saw you sent a message while I was driving. But I didn’t check it because I thought it would just be you telling me not to text and drive. Sounds like I still don’t quite have you pinned down, Alec Lightwood.

Alec found the phrase ‘pinned down’ to be very distracting. I would like you to pin me down, he thought, then immediately cut that mental digression off and buried his head in his pillow. Stop it. The evening is over. He left already. He chose something a bit more tame instead.

Alec Lightwood - 03:07

Well I suppose I'm glad I can surprise you 😅

 

Magnus Bane - 03:09

You have done so multiple times.

 

Alec Lightwood - 03:10

Pleasant or unpleasant surprises? 🤣

 

Magnus Bane - 03:10

You can't be unpleasant even if you try to.

Time goes by really fast with you.

I can’t believe our goodbye took an hour—it only felt like 10 minutes.

💖

A heady warmth flooded Alec’s chest. Magnus was sweet talking him. How surreal! He rolled back over, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating how to respond, floating on a cloud of fuzzy feelings. Unintentionally, he began to drift off again. 

Magnus Bane - 03:14

So… what was that lead?

Alec startled awake, and panic sent adrenaline dashing through him. I fell asleep on him! He fumbled over his lock screen, then breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that only a few minutes had passed. Shortly after, his panic dissolved into a satisfied smile when he realized that Magnus was trying to keep the conversation alive, too.

Alec Lightwood - 03:14

I would have shown you if you'd come back.

He found pleasure in bringing this mess of a conversation back around to his initial message. Maybe, if he kept pushing that point, he could lure Magnus back over later that week. It was only Tuesday. Alec glanced back down at the time. No, Wednesday.

Magnus took his time responding, and Alec began wondering if his brief nap had indeed ruined the conversation. Finally, his concern was assuaged by a new notification.

Magnus Bane - 03:16

Don't tell me that's all you would’ve shown me had I come back.

The excitement that Alec had been struggling so hard to keep in check all came flooding back at once. Unbeckoned, a slight tension built under his sheets, growing a bit each time he reread Magnus Bane’s last message.

Holy hell. Alec’s throat seemed to close up. Is this really happening? They had flirted before, but tonight was completely new territory. And for once, Alec didn’t feel bashful, or hesitant. His earlier failure motivated him. He wanted to see just how far he could take it.

Alec Lightwood - 03:17

Tell me, Magnus. What would you have liked me to do if you came back?

The response came almost immediately, one message after another. Alec had Magnus captivated.

Magnus Bane - 03:17

Anticipation is what makes it exciting.

You see, the investigation is relatively public data. I can get ahold of that on my own.

But something more private ? Now that would be worth coming back for.

There’s still a chance tonight. Alec couldn’t believe himself. How often would he attempt this crazy request? But now it was not only sleep deprivation and alcohol that clouded his judgement, but a tight, high strung physical need. He wanted Magnus—badly. 

Alec Lightwood - 03:19

You still could.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:20

What exactly could I do? 😅

 

Alec Lightwood - 03:21

Come back.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:22

It is always good to see you, Alec. 🙂

Much to Alec’s chagrin, Magnus still didn’t get it. Alec wondered if the warlock was doing this on purpose, playing dumb just to frustrate him. Then his self-doubt from earlier crept back in—a twist of nausea that did not combine pleasantly with the tension of his arousal.

I did decide to be straightforward, he thought. Might as well request the same from him.

Alec Lightwood - 03:23

Is that a polite back out? Because if so I think I've won this game of chicken.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:26

No, I meant that even though we have already spent so many hours together today, it would still have been good to see you again. Had I come back.

 

Alec Lightwood - 03:28

So it wasn’t a polite back out?

 

Magnus Bane - 03:29

Of course not.

 

Frustration drove Alec upright, exposing his bare chest to the cool air. What do you want, Magnus? Maybe this really was just a cruel game. A centuries-old warlock getting a kick out of torturing a young, easily-manipulated mortal. What if this was it, as far as it went? Would Alec really be okay with that?

Alec Lightwood - 03:30

Which means you have yet to respond.

Magnus’ answer came slower this time.    

Magnus Bane - 03:32

I don’t think you wanted me to come back at this time of night just to show me some case lead, Mr. Lightwood.

Damnit, Magnus.  

Alec Lightwood - 03:33

I’m sure you’d like to know.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:33

Yes, I do.

But, to be fair, it sounds like all you’re luring me in with is some information about a case that I could easily get from anyone at the Institute tomorrow.

Or, maybe you’re offering something else? Something I could only experience with you?

In the second case, I definitely would have come back.

Alec frowned at the screen. Magnus was still speaking in hypotheticals. Alec did not like hypotheticals.

Alec Lightwood - 03:37

There's that "would have" again. As if it's not still an option.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:38

Lol, wait. You mean now?

That’s when the realization hit Alec—Magnus really didn’t know he was serious. He thought Alec was teasing him, with no intention to follow through.

I’ll show you follow-through. Alec was getting tired of dancing around in circles. He loved talking to Magnus, but at this point he had already been awake for about twenty-two hours. It was making him bold—and demanding. He wanted the warlock in his bed, now, or he wanted to go to sleep.  

Alec Lightwood - 03:38

Yes, Magnus. Now.

To drive his point home, he copied and pasted the same request from only a few minutes before.

Alec Lightwood - 03:38

---

Alec Lightwood - 03:19

You still could.

 

Magnus Bane - 03:20

What exactly could I do? 😅

 

Alec Lightwood - 03:21

Come back.

---

 

Another long pause held Alec in suspense. What was Magnus thinking? Alec flopped back onto his pillows, fending off another wave of self-consciousness. He’s probably trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation without hurting my feelings.

He didn’t care. He wanted the warlock to type it, directly, so that at least he could stop torturing himself over it. 

Magnus Bane - 03:39

Was that an option or an ask?

Alec froze at that response. That worked?! As doggedly as he had been trying to get Magnus to come back over, as much as he wanted him to turn around, he honestly didn’t think it was really on the table from Magnus' perspective. Not that he didn’t want it to happen—but why would Magnus Bane, of all people, put in so much effort for him?

The idea that anyone—let alone someone as incredible as Magnus Bane—would actually follow through with something like that for Alec—it was inconceivable. Moments like that didn't happen to him. He took care of others. Any romantic feelings he had were always unrequited, ignored from afar. Nobody ever cared for him the same way he cared for them.

But here was this warlock, implying he might actually drive an hour all the way back, at almost 4:00 AM, just for a chance to get closer to him. Alec couldn’t breathe.

Alec Lightwood - 03:39
... Is there one of those that you'd prefer?

 

Magnus Bane - 03:40
Of course the second one.

Alec couldn’t breathe. 

Alec Lightwood - 03:41
What if I just tell you to? Would you listen?

 

Magnus Bane - 03:41

Yes, I would.

Alec couldn’t breathe. 

Alec Lightwood - 03:42

Come back.

Chapter Text

Alec Lightwood - 03:42

Come back.

Fifteen minutes had passed with no response from Magnus other than a little heart-eyed emoji reaction to Alec’s demand. At this time of night, the drive from Magnus’ apartment should only take about thirty-five to forty minutes, assuming Magnus had a tendency to drive at least as fast as Alec did. Alec had a feeling Magnus probably didn’t obey traffic laws quite as strictly, though.

Alec could only lie impatiently on his bed for so long. He had already gotten dressed, and now gazed neurotically into the mirror, fidgeting with his dark, disheveled hair, his shirt, back to his hair again. He pulled his shirt off over his head and considered answering the door that way—bare-chested. Then he put a different, identical black crew neck back on. The second one smelled better.

He darted around his bedroom—already sparse and tidy—and cleaned up anything left lying around until it looked almost like nobody lived there at all. He had already tidied up earlier that afternoon, before Magnus came over the first time. He put on another layer of deodorant, since he hadn’t done so since the morning. He brushed his teeth—another thing he had already done just before the first time Magnus visited.

Finally, all that remained was to wait.

Thirty minutes had now passed since Alec had last heard from Magnus. He began to wonder if the warlock was ever going to arrive. What if he hadn’t left yet? What if he wasn’t coming at all? Alec imagined Magnus, buried under the silken sheets and fluffy comforters of his King-sized bed, chuckling at the seriousness in which Alec had responded to him, and then shutting off his phone and going straight to sleep.

How late do I wait up before it becomes pathetic?

Alec paced across the front doorway of the Institute. The night patrol was not due back for another hour and a half, and the Institute had enough wards and alarms that aside from that small team, very few shadowhunters now roamed the halls. Most of the night owls usually wandered to bed by three in the morning, and the early risers did not start emerging until closer to five. The normally hectic main floor sat vacant, eerily alight with the blue-black glow of dormant monitors.

Imagining what Magnus would be seeing and thinking as he approached the glamoured property, Alec hopped up into the window, where the warlock might be able to glimpse him waiting. He rested casually against the cool stone, trying to portray himself as relaxed, confident, even bored. Several more minutes passed.

I look absurd. Alec slid back down out of the window cove. He marched over to one of the long, pew-like benches in the entrance way, and sat roughly down with a huff, head in his hands.

Forty-two minutes had now passed since Alec had last heard from Magnus.

Magnus Bane - 04:28

Are you still sure you want me to come back?

Alec must have leapt a foot into the air at the abrupt vibration in his back pocket. He hopped to his feet, fishing the phone out into his hands and botching the lock code twice before finally getting past it and into the messaging app. It was not the message he had been expecting.

Has he not left yet? Alec wondered if he was willing to stay up another forty-five minutes to wait for the warlock to make his way across the city. He had now been awake for almost twenty-three hours, including a very exhausting mission earlier that day. He wasn’t sure he could make it to the twenty-four hour mark without someone there to keep him up. Disappointment snuck a hesitant claw into the back of Alec’s mind.

Alec Lightwood - 04:28

That's what I said, isn't it?

Though if you haven't left yet, I'm a little disappointed.

He took one long, deep breath before the response came, scattering his disappointment like ashes on the breeze.

Magnus Bane - 04:29

In that case, I’m at the door.

I never disappoint you. 😉

Alec’s throat tightened again. It actually hurt a bit. Is this what anaphylaxis feels like? Am I dying? He focused on keeping his breathing even and measured. His hands shook. He reached forward, grasped the door handle, and pulled it open.

Like Alec—but much more noticeably—Magnus had also changed his clothes since they last saw each other. For once, he didn’t look quite completely put together, in black jeans that were likely deliberately distressed (Alec still couldn’t understand that trend) and a gray collared shirt with shimmering silver embroidery that he had only made it halfway through tucking in. He sported the same velvety, wine-colored jacket from that evening. Alec searched desperately for something to say. Paralyzing anxiety surged through him as his eyes met Magnus’.

“Hey,” he choked out lamely. He stepped aside to let Magnus through the doorway. The warlock walked inside, then waited as Alec re-locked door. When Alec turned around, Magnus had his hands in his jacket pockets, staring at the floor anxiously like a kid on his first date.

“Was the drive… ok?” Alec floundered, feeling very akin to a deer in headlights. He shivered in the chilly emptiness of the stone hall. Despite that, he felt the need to brush his palms against the sides of his pants—how were they sweaty in this cold? What was Magnus expecting? What would happen when the warlock discovered how completely and utterly helpless and lost Alec was? For some reason, the corners of Magnus’ lips twitched upward into a soft smile, and he looked up, meeting Alec’s gaze. Alec found himself completely ensnared.

“Yes,” Magnus answered, his voice hushed, but warm. Alec realized he had also been speaking quietly. It felt somehow unacceptable to even approach full volume in the echoey, once-sacred sanctuary.

Alec’s eyes slid down to Magnus’ jacket. He remembered some of his earlier thoughts involving that very article of clothing. His fingertips curled reflexively at his sides, but he didn’t move.

“So I guess I’m back,” Magnus added, also unmoving. He watched Alec carefully. Alec realized that maybe Magnus was also anxious, though he couldn’t imagine the warlock ever losing his cool, confident aura over anything, or anyone—let alone him.

Get it together, Alec scolded himself. The man did not drive all the way back here to reject you.

Finally, through what felt like an immeasurable amount of willpower, his inner monologue won out, and Alec’s hands rose. Everything felt like slow motion to him. He brushed his thumbs over the bottom edge of Magnus’ open jacket. The texture felt as soft as it looked. Alec found that the sensation grounded him. Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed how dizzy he felt.

“Yeah,” Alec whispered. He didn’t think he was capable of anything more than that. “I’m glad you are.”

He clasped the velvet between his fingers, staring down at his own hands as he did so, as if he couldn’t completely follow his own actions. Magnus’ attention never left Alec’s face. When Alec looked up again, their eyes locked. Magnus wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked how Alec felt. Terrified. Hopeful. Transfixed.

Alec slid his hands upward, stopping just near the height of Magnus’ waist, and gripped more firmly, tugging the front of the jacket ever so slightly as he inched toward the warlock—just a small half of a step. Goosebumps meandered up his forearms. At that subtle behest, Magnus closed the rest of the distance between them—though he took his time doing so. Every fraction of a second dragged on for an eternity to Alec. He angled his head downward.

For some reason, all of the times he had imagined finally reaching this point—kissing Magnus Bane—Alec had always assumed it would be sudden. Explosive. All the tension they had been building over the last several weeks would be released at once, sending them grabbing at each other, pushing each other into walls. Instead, the bottomless well of tension continued to build between them.

Magnus’ lips delicately skimmed Alec’s. A sensation like a weight dropping within Alec’s stomach sent his heart flailing. It almost mirrored his earlier feelings, when he thought he might be sick, but this time, the anxiety melted away instead of controlling him. He was kissing Magnus Bane. Magnus drove all the way home, then all the way back, for this moment. That meant something.

The warlock’s lips were soft. Alec presently became very aware of how rough and dry his must be in comparison. When the warlock pulled back, almost imperceptibly, Alec followed. He closed the little space that remained between them. Magnus’ hands were on Alec’s hips. When did that happen? He didn’t know. He lifted his fingertips up to the warlock’s face. His thumb brushed along Magnus’ jaw, then traced a shaky line down his neck. He rested that hand on Magnus’ chest.

Alec kissed him again, this time with certainty. Their mouths pressed against each other. Alec pushed himself more firmly against Magnus’ body, and the warlock responded in kind. Everything inside of Alec felt tight, wound up. He took a brief moment just to breathe. When he shifted his weight backwards, it was Magnus’ turn to follow. Almost instinctively, Alec continued pulling his lips just out of the warlock’s reach, provoking him to keep trying, to keep chasing. Watching Magnus lean in toward him, striving for that kiss, sent Alec into a dizzying state of giddiness.

It took only a few seconds for Magnus to give up. For a moment, confusion and concern clouded his countenance. A brief flash of guilt flushed Alec’s cheeks. He hadn’t meant to look unwilling! He just craved the rush of seeing Magnus act like that—like he needed to kiss Alec, to touch him, fighting to pull him in closer.

Alec felt like a bow string held taut, brimming with potential energy. Something deep within him craved to release it. He dropped his hands back down to where they started, the waist of Magnus’ velvet jacket. He slid them underneath of it, over the crisply-pressed shirt, caressing around Magnus’ sides and then resting his palms on the inviting pocket of warmth that had gathered over the small of Magnus’ back, trapped between the contrasting fabrics of his shirt and his outerwear. His arms now encircling the warlock, he used this new advantageous position to pull him in for another kiss. Magnus ran a few fingers down from Alec’s shoulder to his elbow. When his touch fell from the black shirt sleeve to the paler, bare skin of Alec’s arm, Alec’s muscles flexed in response, and he felt Magnus smile through their kiss. He reached up to the collar of the warlock’s jacket, and started to push it off. He wanted to do the same to him—run his hands over Magnus’ bare skin, touch every part of him.

A distant, abrupt snicker froze both of them in place, reminding them that they still stood just inside the front door of the Institute. A few barely audible voices followed, taunting each other and laughing. Magnus tilted his head questioningly at Alec’s upraised, shushing finger. They both listened intently. As the voices continued, and grew louder, Alec relaxed.

“It’s just the night patrol coming back in. They must have just entered the glamour line.” Inwardly, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. From here, he and Magnus were safely out of sight—for now. Magnus ran his palms up and down Alec’s biceps, drawing tiny circles with his thumbs that quickly drew Alec’s attention back to more personal topics.

“Maybe,” the warlock purred, “we should make our way down the hall. To your room?”

Alec’s throat swiftly went very dry. He nodded, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound completely stupid. His kissed Magnus one more time, holding behind his head firmly with one hand. A tiny thrill coursed through him, as if the reality of what was happening still hadn’t settled it in his mind.

When the night patrol pushed through the Institute’s heavy wooden front doors, no sign remained of the Institute’s leader, nor the High Warlock—and the tired shadowhunters were none the wiser. Just a few hundred feet away, Magnus followed Alec down a silent, darkened hallway that he felt like he had just come from. The air hung heavy and quiet between them, thick with expectation. Alec pushed open the door, turned around, and kissed Magnus deeply right there, standing on the threshold. Exhaustion carried him along on a floating high. Alec had now been awake for almost twenty-four hours.

He pulled Magnus Bane into the bedroom, and let the door slam shut behind them.

Chapter Text

What am I doing? I have no idea what I’m doing. Alec surveyed his room from just inside the doorway, where only a couple hours before, he and Magnus had been chatting over drinks, delaying their goodbyes. At the sight of his bed, his entire body ached with exhaustion. He couldn’t think straight. Magnus Bane’s hand sliding down his back, however, returned his attention directly to the immediate moment.

Alec faced Magnus again, pulling him into a kiss and toward the bed with only the light pull of a pinkie finger hooked into his shirt. The warlock’s hands slid down to Alec’s ass. Alec felt like he might burst at the seams—kissing was not enough. He wrapped one hand around the side of Magnus’ neck and face, and kissed him more deeply, then pulled back and grazed his teeth ever so gently across the warlock’s bottom lip.

Magnus inhaled sharply. Alec froze, wondering if maybe he should have asked first. Briefly, they both hovered like that, lips just barely not touching. Then Magnus closed the distance roughly. He sucked Alec’s bottom lip into his mouth, shuffling his arms back to let his jacket slide off into a velvety pile on the floor.

Alec’s pants held him in just a bit too tightly for comfort. He took that as a sign that both of the men in the room were still wearing too many clothes. Without breaking their kiss, he fumbled over the top two buttons of Magnus’ shirt. Magnus chuckled softly, removing his own hands from Alec’s backside and brushing the shadowhunter’s unsteady fingers aside.

“I promise it’s actually a lot easier if you let me do this,” Magnus gently pushed Alec backwards. “You handle your own, Alexander.”

Alec felt the bed against the back of his knees and fell into a seated position, unable to tear his eyes away from the warlock before him. Magnus took his time unbuttoning his shirt, gradually revealing the smooth, lean bareness of his chest. Alec couldn’t help but wonder if Magnus used any glamour magic to accentuate his physique, or if the warlock genuinely was just this unbearably attractive.

“You’re falling behind,” Magnus taunted. He dropped his shirt very deliberately onto the comforter next to Alec, like an offering—or a challenge.

Alec did not possess even close to the same suave sensuality as Magnus. He obediently pulled his t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, chucking it ungracefully across the room. Magnus observed with a satisfied smile, and dropped one hand to rest on Alec’s shoulder. He ran a hungry, delicate touch up toward Alec’s neck, tracing the outline of his Deflect rune before moving on to his jaw line. Alec watched the warlock with an expression resembling awe. His lips parted as he drank in the sight before him. Magnus redirected his focus accordingly, placing the tip of his thumb across Alec’s lips. Alec kissed it, then moved on to the base, then the center of Magnus’ palm.

Magnus let out a quiet ‘Mmm,’ which Alec took as encouragement. He hooked his index fingers through the warlock’s belt loops, tugging him in closer. Magnus stumbled forward, surprised at the shadowhunter’s strength, and Alec steadied him with an apologetic and sheepish smile. He leaned forward then, kissing Magnus just above the button of his black jeans. He felt the warlock’s abs tense under his lips. Both of them were breathing much faster than they had been only a few minutes before.

Impatient to find release, Alec struggled with the button before him. But he wasn’t accustomed unbuttoning from this angle, and Magnus’ pants were very tight. Once again, the warlock came to the rescue. He placed his hands softly over Alec’s and pushed them aside before unbuttoning the clasp himself. Alec made himself feel helpful by tugging the pants downward along with his briefs, and Magnus stepped out of them more gracefully than any person had a right to wriggle out of skinny jeans.

Magnus Bane was naked in Alec’s bedroom. Magnus Bane is naked in my bedroom. He is naked in front of me. Completely… naked. For a moment, Alec just sat there, dumbstruck. As if to make sure the warlock was real, he pressed his palm hesitantly against Magnus’ hip, then followed suit with his fingers, gripping him tightly around his side. His thumb stroked down the warlock’s v-line, then curved back to brush over his thigh. Above him, Magnus’ exhale melted into a soft moan.

Magnus did not suffer from the same challenges that Alec had with buttons. He pressed the shadowhunter gingerly back onto the mattress, supporting himself with one arm and deftly opening Alec’s pants with his other. Alec lifted his hips up and shoved them down by the waist. Soon the remainder of his clothes piled onto the floor next to Magnus’ black jeans.

The pair scooted up on the bed, Alec on his back and Magnus holding himself up on his elbows above him. For a moment they stayed just like that, unmoving. Staring into each other’s eyes, catching their breath. Without the restriction of clothes, Alec found himself rising very quickly to the occasion. Every part of him felt supersensitive. The skin on his neck tingled as Magnus’ breath danced across it.

It was Magnus who moved first. He tilted his head, lowering himself until he nuzzled into Alec’s neck. Alec gasped. Their bodies brushed lightly against each other in dozens of tiny spots. All of the hairs across Alec’s skin stood on edge. Some unfamiliar tension welled up within him, like it might erupt out at any second.

Magnus’ kisses trailed down Alec’s neck and over his chest. He paused over one of Alec’s nipples, lips skimming around it. It was Alec’s turn to fight to suppress a moan, and much like Magnus earlier, he failed to hold it in. The pressure inside of him grew. He had to express it—somehow. He reached up for Magnus, sliding his hands across his bare back. The warlock’s tongue flicked across where his lips had just been. Alec grasped at him, fingernails trailing faint red lines across his skin.

Alec wanted to reciprocate, but he didn’t know how. He went for the nearest opportunity, pulling the warlock’s face back up toward his and pressing his lips against the soft surface of his neck. Magnus responded by grinding into him, breath catching.

Not as difficult as I feared, Alec thought with satisfaction. He kissed Magnus’ neck again, and again, each one more passionate than the last. Still not enough. He sucked in, teeth meeting skin. When he released him, an uneven, dark bruise had already begun to take shape.

“Oh,” Alec whispered apologetically. “Oh my gosh. Magnus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Magnus reached up and touched the darkening hickey. He winced slightly, but to Alec’s surprise, he smirked. “Oh, Alexander. It’s very cute that you think a love mark would bother me. Especially one from you.” His eyes slid down Alec’s body, and for the first time since they disrobed, Alec became acutely aware of how naked he was. He cleared throat self-consciously.

“That’s, uh, that’s goo—” His words cut off as Magnus resumed his earlier trail of kisses, starting at the top of his ribcage and drifting down the line of hair that lead to more sensitive places. “Ohh, wow.”

He hadn’t thought he could get any harder. He was wrong.

Magnus kissed just next to the base of Alec’s cock, causing the shadowhunter to emit a rather mortifying sound that stemmed from deep in his chest. But Alec didn’t have time to be embarrassed. He twitched eagerly, unable to repress his body’s natural response, and Magnus brushed his lips up to Alec’s frenulum. Alec drew air sharply in through his teeth. He couldn’t resist running his hands through the warlock’s hair. Magnus took this as encouragement. He ran his tongue around the head, then followed suit with the rest of his mouth.

Alec’s back arched as Magnus’ head rose and fell. Static filled his mind, crowding out everything but the sensation of the warlock’s mouth around him. He bunched the now twisted sheets below him between his fingers. Something rose inside of him. He felt like his entire body tensed up, building up tighter and tighter. Magnus’ tongue flitted over the unbearably sensitive ring of skin just below the head of his cock.

This is torture! He wanted to say it out loud, but couldn’t even trust himself to form words. Heavy breath and quiet moans hung thickly in the air. The gentle insistence of Magnus’ tongue pushed him further and further toward the edge.

“Magnus,” he breathed. The warlock responded by increasing his pace, refusing to give Alec even a moment to cool down. It was too much. Overwhelming.

Alec found his hand again in Magnus’ hair. It was the perfect length to weave his fingers through, and he gripped it as gently as he could manage as the tension between his legs peaked. Release flooded through him. His hips, which he had been lifting off the blankets in his euphoria, shuddered and sank downward again. A drug-like warmth snaked its way through his veins. His head spun.

Alec’s cock twitched as Magnus tenderly released it, slithering up to catch him in a breathless kiss. The exhaustion from earlier tugged again at the corners of Alec’s mind. But he wasn’t finished yet. He couldn’t bear the thought of falling asleep on Magnus now—he had to return the favor.

He returned the warlock’s kiss, unexpectedly aroused by the salty taste on his lips. A thin sheen of sweat coated Alec’s skin, sticking them together in all the places their bodies touched. He took a moment to enjoy Magnus’ embrace, reveling in how comfortably their limbs curved together. Finally, he felt his pulse returning to a more controlled tempo.

Magnus had already snuggled up next to Alec, face resting happily in the curve where his shoulder met his neck. Part of Alec didn’t want to move and disturb him, but he was sure the warlock would forgive him. As expected, Magnus frowned as Alec extricated himself from the tangle of clammy limbs. But his grumbles quickly dissolved into a drawn out “Ohhh ” as Alec rolled on top of him, directing his attention very single-mindedly to one task. He did his best to mimic the same torturous actions Magnus had performed on him, only occasionally straying into shy, hesitant creativity.

When Magnus finally came, moaning and slick with sweat, a muted glow diffused through the white fabric shades that overlaid the windows of Alec’s bedroom. It took some time for Alec to get comfortable with his own actions, to learn what worked and what didn’t, and he still felt amateur and awkward. But the shallowness of Magnus’ breath as he collapsed into the pillows bolstered his assurance.

“I am astounded, Alexander,” Magnus declared haltingly. He ran a seeking hand up Alec’s arm, tugging him down next to him to cuddle. Alec’s body melted into his, completely unfazed by the dampness that clung to both of them.

“It’s dawn,” Magnus observed. “I can’t believe it. I hope you don’t have to get up very early.”

Alec shook his head dismally, his cheek rubbing against Magnus’ collarbone as he did so.

“I do,” he sighed.

“Well then, Angel. Try to get some sleep.”

Alec was asleep before Magnus could finish the sentence. He had been awake for twenty-seven hours.

Chapter Text

Pins and needles combered across Alec’s right arm, tingles rippling from where it lay trapped under Magnus’ shoulder. He hadn’t slept much at all, too distracted by the deep, measured breaths that tickled his nose. Over an hour had passed since he should have risen, but he did not want to wake the sleeping warlock beside him, pinning his arm to the mattress. Alec had been stuck in this position for hours, his elbow aching, remaining utterly still.

Muted morning sunlight emanated from Alec’s window shades, illuminating the room in pale pastel hues. Alec wondered when Magnus normally woke up, and realized with affectionate exasperation that he would lie there as long as the warlock remained asleep, memorizing every detail of his image.

Magnus’ eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating and contracting as he adjusted to daylight. Alec held still, studying every centimeter of the warlock’s face as the languor dissolved away. Magnus’ dark irises focused on Alec’s. He lifted his hand and brushed his index finger over Alec’s cheek, stroking down his jaw and tracing the shape of his mouth, as if he did not quite believe he was really there, still somewhat trapped between dreams and reality. The glitter in his dark nail polish scraped against the shadowhunter’s top lip.

Alec’s eyes broke from Magnus’, falling to watch the warlock’s fingers outline his features. His heartbeat eased as he inhaled deeply, gradually, then let all of the air cascade back out, curling warmly around Magnus’ fingertips. Magnus trailed them down Alec’s neck, resting them softly on his collarbone.

Finally, Alec wriggled his arm free, wincing at the sharp spasm as he bent it. He slid it under his own pillow, mirroring Magnus’ pose. Magnus lifted his hand off of Alec and out of the way as he shifted, then rested it back down on his shoulder, his thumb meandering absent-mindedly back and forth over the runes there, which were bathed in pale blue light.

“Good morning,” Alec whispered. Breaking the silence between them seemed like shattering a spell, and he almost regretted it. But he couldn’t lay there forever, as much as he wanted to. The others would already be wondering where he was.

A mellow, closed-lipped smile softened Magnus’ already vulnerable, sleepy expression. Everything about him seemed so honest and real in that moment. Alec found himself drifting closer under the sheets, his arm slithering around the pleasant warmth of Magnus’ bare waist. Before he knew it, his face was buried in the curve of Magnus’ neck. He inhaled deeply, soaking in the delicious scents of sandalwood, mandarin, and barest hints clove. Alec wished he could wake up to these intoxicating smells every morning.

Magnus hummed—the first noise he’d made since opening his eyes—and melted into Alec's nuzzle. He wrapped his arms around Alec's head, burying his face in his messy black hair and echoing Alec's meditative breathing.

"Good morning," he eventually murmured, words muffled and muted against the top of Alec's head. Alec's nuzzle dissolved into a series of light butterfly kisses on Magnus' neck, and the warlock's greeting dropped into a contented “Mmm.”

Alec knew he should be getting up. But Magnus smelled very good. And every time he willed himself to pull away, to sit up, to get dressed, he mentally made any possible excuse not to. Just one more second. Just one more kiss.

“If Jace comes looking for me,” Alec mumbled through muffled kisses against Magnus’ skin, “I’m completely fucked.”

“You can hide me in the bathroom like we’re in a bad rom-com,” the warlock sighed through his contentment.

Alec’s lips trailed down to Magnus’ collarbone, and the warlock’s humming became a breathy sigh. Alec snuck a peek upward to see his eyes were shut again, head relaxed blissfully into his pillow. He noticed the dark, amaranthine bruise blooming on Magnus’ neck, the memory sparking a faint heat within him. Sleepiness still lingering lazily over the corners of his mind, Alec let instinct drive him down across Magnus’ chest, still trailing tiny kisses, tracing the subtle indents between his ribs.

Magnus spread his fingers through Alec’s hair, massaging in small, gentle circles. He raised his hips as Alec reached them, leaning into his lips, craving more pressure, more contact. The slow, soft kisses were excruciatingly wonderful. Alec could taste him—salty and sugary. Hesitantly, he scraped his teeth over the delicate skin of Magnus’ hip bone. Magnus moaned quietly.

The warlock gripped Alec’s hair more tightly for a second, tugging at it before letting go completely. A confusing swirl of excitement rushed Alec all at once, but he had no time to process, because Magnus was shoving him backwards, down into the tangle of crumpled sheets. Magnus was awake now, though he remained in a cozy state of tranquil morning contentment.

Alec wasn’t sure when they had transitioned from sleepy morning kisses to heavy petting, but Magnus was straddling him, thighs warm against his hips, and his body responded accordingly, his hardness growing. The warlock arched his back and slid up Alec’s body in a smooth, languid motion, brushing over his skin, tantalizing him in so many ways. Their lips met again and it felt like they hadn’t kissed in hours, craving more of each other. Alec sucked Magnus’ bottom lip into his mouth, nipping, trying to restrain himself from biting harshly. When Magnus stilled and sat up, Alec’s cock rested torturously against his ass, skimming against the inner curves of his cheeks.

This perspective was new to Alec—staring up at a beautiful man, straddling him, naked, hard. It left him thunderstruck. He gazed wide-eyed at the warlock above him, absorbing every tiny detail, from the curve of his back to the way his toes pointed down to the foot of the bed, to his satisfied smirk as he observed Alec’s amazed infatuation. Alec’s cock twitched, and Magnus bit his lip to stifle an even bigger smile when he felt it against his backside.

Magnus opened his mouth to speak, tracing a delicate, almost tickling finger down Alec’s torso as he hesitated. He rested his hand on Alec’s abs, looking up to catch the shadowhunter’s eye.

“Alexander, do you have any lube hidden somewhere in this room?” He tilted his head to the side as he asked, dropping his gaze again—this time to focus on running his hands along the muscles of Alec’s arms. His face reminded Alec of the same innocent, flirty expression he’d used several weeks ago. I’m being coy, he’d said.

Alec’s mind stuttered past the image of Magnus’ naked figure atop him, tracing along his biceps with sensual hands, and finally caught up with the question.

“Uh, lube,” he echoed. “No, um, no. I don’t… I don’t have any.” Alec’s heart beat at a mile a minute.

“That’s too bad,” Magnus sighed, leaning forward again as if to slide back down off of Alec. Alec caught him, holding his thighs in place with an unintentionally strong grip. Magnus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth sneaking upward into a knowing smile as he waited expectantly for Alec to explain himself. He leaned in to his firm grip, rocking slightly, enjoying how tightly Alec held him there. Unable to tear his gaze away from Magnus, Alec struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“Could you, um… like you do with wine all the time? Summon some? Maybe?” He released his hold on the warlock’s legs, realizing how silly and desperate he must sound, his throat dry. “That’s a dumb idea. Never mind.” His heart hammered. He inhaled in measured breaths, trying to control it. He wasn’t even completely sure what he was asking for—until last night, he hadn’t even kissed anyone before. Now here he was, stuttering out awkward requests for sex. He blushed, staring off toward the wall, anywhere but toward Magnus.

Magnus caught Alec’s hands, tugging them slowly back toward him.

“Look at me, Alexander,” he adjured. Alec obeyed, struggling to maintain eye contact through his sudden surge of bashfulness.

Magnus’ eyes darkened, expression transforming from what he had called coy to something more sure, more sexual. He placed one of Alec’s hands back on him, now on his hip, and Alec grasped tightly like he had before, watching as Magnus’ eyes fluttered slightly in response. Wordlessly, Magnus summoned a small, clear plastic bottle into his now free fingers in a wispy puff of cyan smoke. He squeezed some out on Alec’s left hand, which he still controlled. Alec bit his lip, body tensing in anxious expectation.

“Here,” Magnus murmured, tugging Alec’s hand down, underneath his hovering frame. Alec took the hint—as inexperienced as he was, he had some common sense, and he caught on quickly when he had a good teacher.

Excitement churned through him, combining with his natural morning serenity to create a strange sense of giddiness, like a high. The room spun, the result of a lethargic, heady dizziness. Perhaps that was the remnants of his sleep deprivation.

His fingers brushed against the rippled skin behind Magnus’ balls, sliding smoothly as he spread the thick, clear gel in small circles. Magnus sighed, lowering himself to increase the pressure on Alec’s hand. Carefully, studying the warlock’s amorous, closed-eyed expression, Alec slid his index finger into the tight hole he’d been circling. Magnus’ head lolled back, lips parting as he instinctively rose and fell. Alec swallowed, short of breath just from watching the way Magnus moved over him. He slipped in a second finger, and Magnus flexed his hips forward, moaning quietly as he adjusted his angle.

Entranced as he was by Magnus’ pleasure, Alec realized he wasn’t sure where he should go from here—should he continue with his fingers? Add another one? He never wanted that euphoric expression to leave Magnus’ face. He craved it. Though he loathed to ruin the moment with the harshness of speech, he decided communication was the best policy.

“Should I do anything else… ?” he asked faintly after a few minutes of Magnus’ ardent gasps, his voice trailing off. “I wish I had more experience—for you.”

Magnus slowed his quavering, leaning slightly forward again to meet Alec’s gaze. The warlock’s eyes were almost black, engulfed by his pupils. Alec wondered if his were the same.

“I would like,” Magnus breathed, “for you to fuck me.”

Alec could hear his pulse in his ears. He withdrew his hand from beneath Magnus, and realized he was trembling. With Magnus’ hands to guide him, he smeared the rest of the lube over his dick. Magnus positioned himself above Alec, and the shadowhunter saw stars. The warlock lowered himself, and Alec felt a brief, luscious pressure on the head of his cock. Then Magnus’ tight rim slid around it. Alec gasped, grasping at the warlock's thighs, his hips, his waist. This felt way better than a blowjob. Alec could barely function, enslaved by Magnus’ deliberate, unhurried movements.

What is happening? Is this really happening? How is this happening? Alec’s head spun.

Magnus shifted his hips back and forth slightly, and Alec dropped his hands to the sheets, balling the fabric up in his fists. At this rate, he wouldn’t last two minutes. Finally, Magnus rested his weight on Alec completely, the full length of Alec’s cock buried inside of him. They paused like that, in silence, heavy breaths echoing off the walls of the bare-bones bedroom. After a moment to regain his sanity, Alec opened his eyes, though he didn’t remember closing them. Magnus stroked Alec’s chest, drawing the shadowhunter’s gaze upward, connecting with his.

Eyes locked, Magnus started to move again. Up—slowly, torturously. Down—gradually, agonizingly. Alec whimpered. Involuntarily, he thrust his hips. Magnus drew a sharp breath between his teeth, and at first Alec worried he might have hurt him. But the hiss-like sound devolved into a soft, purring moan, and Alec thrust again—this time more gently. This elicited another moan.

Struggling to keep his breathing even, he established a steady rhythm. Magnus’ cock oscillated between them, and Alec thought it must require attention. Shifting most of his weight against his right shoulder so he could continue fucking Magnus at the same pace, he raised his left hand—still slick with the remainder of the lube—and stroked tentatively up and down Magnus’ shaft.

“Oh gods, Alec,” Magnus gasped. Alec tried to maintain his rhythm like this, but quickly found himself teetering on the edge, enthralled by the way Magnus rolled his hips, sliding up and down over his cock. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. He pushed off of the bed, rolling them so Magnus toppled into the pillows, holding himself upright over the warlock with his lean muscled arms. Alec buried his face in Magnus’ neck, kissing and sucking as he continued to thrust.

“Fuck,” Magnus breathed, caught by surprise. What started as a coherent word melted into a wavering “Ohhhh” as Alec leaned on one elbow, returning to stroking Magnus with his other hand. Tension built again within him, his movements growing shaky and uncontrolled. His abs clenched, and he had to release his grip on Magnus’ cock to catch himself.

A delirious tightness gripped Alec’s whole body. Unable to channel this overwhelming feeling into anything else, he bit down on Magnus’ neck. Magnus yelped, fingernails digging red grooves into the pale skin of Alec’s back. Warmth flooded Alec, starting from his groin and permeating his body to every limb. He cried out, pressing deep into Magnus as he quivered.

He couldn’t think straight. Pleasure rolled through him. His breath bounced off the sweaty skin on Magnus’ neck and back against his own cheekbones, encircling his face in humid warmth. As his swirling mind started to settle, his thoughts returned immediately to Magnus, his hand returning to its previous mission. Magnus’ back arched, Alec still buried inside him, and he moaned at the new angle and the renewed stroking. Alec kissed his neck gently over where he had bitten, almost apologetically. This, finally, seemed to be what pushed the warlock over the edge, spilling come onto his own abs as his legs shook.

They both came down slowly, sighing at every small movement. After suitably showering Magnus in kisses, Alec rolled off of him, collapsing onto the blankets beside him. When Magnus had caught his own breath, he turned to see Alec staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, as if in shock. Alec seemed to realize he was being stared at, because he promptly turned onto his side to face Magnus, doe eyes still betraying his amazement. He reached out and rested a hand on Magnus’ waist, caressing his hip, his ribs, his back, like it was the most natural thing.

“Wow,” he finally managed. Magnus realized it was the first word Alec had said since they started. As far as reactions went, he could live with this one. He wiggled forward, snuggling into the shadowhunter’s body, and Alec let his arm fall to encircle him. They both breathed calmly now, sweat evaporating away.

“I mean,” Alec sputtered, “that was—that was really good. For me. Was it… was it good for you? Was that alright?”

He bent his head down so his face ended up buried in Magnus’ wild, sex-strewn hair. The warlock still smelled of sandalwood and cloves. Alec squeezed him tighter.

Magnus responded by wrapping his own arm around Alec, so they laid there holding each other, sharing warmth above the sheets. He grinned into Alec’s collarbone, a blissful laugh drifting out from between their bodies.

“Yes,” he answered, words muffled by the fact that his face was still pressed against Alec’s chest. “Yes, Alexander. It was good.”

Their hands wandered around each other, meandering lazily across backs and ribs and arms. Alec began to drift off again, lost in a satisfied cloud of contentment. Both of their breaths slowed, heartbeats pulsing in a steady, harmonizing rhythm. Alec wished this moment would never end.

A sharp rap at the door startled both of them out of their dozing state. Jace’s voice carried indistinctly through the heavy oak.

“Alec?” he called. “Are you in there? Are you alright? It’s almost noon!”

Chapter Text

“Alec? Are you in there? Are you alright? It’s almost noon!”

Shadowhunter and warlock alike froze, staring wide-eyed at each other.

Almost noon?! Alec mouthed, bewildered.

This broke their startled trance. Magnus melted into silent giggles. Alec shoved him off the bed, trying to frown at him but failing, instead stifling his own mute laughter. They scampered across the room.

“Alec? I know you’re in there! I can hear you. Open the door!” The handle rattled.

Alec swiped Magnus’ clothes off the floor, bundling them into a crumpled ball as they scooted toward Alec’s bathroom like deviant teenagers. Magnus scuttled inside, spinning to face Alec. Alec pressed Magnus’ bundled clothes into the warlock’s chest. He started to pull the door shut, then on second thought pushed it back open, catching the Magnus in a fervent kiss. Magnus dropped his clothes into a forgotten pile, seizing Alec’s face and abandoning himself in the moment.

Magnus’ lips followed Alec’s hungrily as the shadowhunter retreated, shooting the warlock one last devilish glance before clicking the door shut behind him. The chilly silence of the small, utilitarian bathroom closed in around the warlock. A simple black rug protected his bare toes from the cold, clean, grey tile below it. Magnus’ mischievous smile faded into a pensive frown in the sudden lonesomeness. He did not often find himself hiding naked in another man’s bathroom, and a few conflicting emotions trickled through his thoughts.

“Coming, one second!” Alec’s voice floated through the door quite clearly. Unlike the door between his bedroom and the hallway, this one was thinner and allowed a generous fraction of the sound cleanly through it. However, Magnus still could not hear Alec’s feather-light footsteps dashing around the room, and so he was taken by surprise when the door between them swung open again.

Alec stood before him, now fully dressed and handsome as ever in a plain black crew neck and black jeans. A well-worn leather jacket hung on one arm, the other half dangling behind him. Magnus couldn’t help but be a bit impressed at just how quickly Alec had thrown himself together.

“I hope we can finish this conversation later?” Alec meant the words to be smooth and confident, but they came out as a hopeful question, energetic and restless. Magnus’ short-lived, contemplative frown dissolved into a breathtaking smile.

Alec’s heart leapt. He leaned against the door, bouncing restlessly on his toes and teetering over the threshold, weight balanced on his arms which clung to the frame. One side of his mouth curled upward in a lopsided grin.

“We weren’t really doing much talking,” Magnus teased in a lighthearted murmur. He leaned in as Alec did, their lips only centimeters apart.

“I know,” Alec said softly, hesitating in place, teasing Magnus toward him. Behind the bedroom door across the room, Jace knocked again.

“That’s it, I’m coming in!”

Alec closed the tiny distance that remained between himself and the warlock, sweeping him into another ardent kiss. He clung to Magnus until the last possible second, tearing himself away and slamming the door between them just as Jace finished his Unlocking Rune on the door to the hallway.

The kiss left Magnus dazed and starry-eyed. He wanted to march out there and drag Alec back to the bed, banishing his annoying blonde parabatai once more to the hallway with a flick of his wrist. He wanted to tell everyone to leave Alec be, just for one day, just for a few hours. Instead, he waited and listened.

“Dude, what the hell?” The surprised umbrage in Alec’s voice impressed Magnus in its authenticity. When did Alexander Lightwood learn how to lie?

“Where have you been?” Jace demanded, heavier, brutish footsteps barreling into the room. “What’s going on with you?”

Alec very convincingly feigned annoyance. Such a grouchy demeanor had been his default the first few weeks Magnus had known him. Now the warlock wondered if it was just a defensive front, like his own tendency to mask himself in an aloof fog of excess and greed around all but his closest companions. When had the tall, handsome shadowhunter come to be counted among those numbers? Magnus couldn’t say.

“Enjoying a very brief four hours of sleep,” Alec responded, grumpy impatience dripping from every word. “Now that portaling is banned, we have to drive over an hour outside the city limits to get to and from Idris. That must be what mundanes feel like having to drag themselves around to regional airports.” He sounded less sympathetic than he did disgusted. The exhaustion in his voice was likely genuine—by Magnus’ math, Alec’s estimation of his sleep was right on point.

“Why is your Anti-Tracking Rune activated?” Jace’s tone remained accusatory and worried. Magnus heard a shuffle, then a curious Hmm from his dark-haired archer.

“I guess I forgot to deactivate it,” Alec sighed. “I really haven’t slept.”

He’s enjoying this, Magnus realized. He bit his lip, willing himself to remain completely still and silent. A tiny thrill hummed through him. Wicked little shadowhunter. How is he getting away with it? Magnus did not know much about parabatai bonds, but he knew enough to understand that a direct lie should not fly so smoothly.

Unless… he’s not lying. Magnus reviewed Alec’s exact words in his head. Someone’s been learning a thing or two from the Seelie. He had to admit, it turned him on a little bit, listening to Alec play mind games with Jace. It was completely unexpected. It excited him in ways the immortal warlock had not felt in a long time.

After another few rounds of verbal sparring, the voices of the two shadowhunters faded away, heavy oak door swinging closed behind them with a conclusive thud. Magnus waited another fifteen minutes, relishing the opportunity to snoop around Alec’s bedroom. To his disappointment, his cursory exploration revealed nothing embarrassing to use as banter fodder later.

He did find Alec’s underwear drawer—predictably full of functional, black boxer briefs that Magnus was sure the shadowhunter looked unbearably sexy in. He regretted not undressing him a bit more slowly the night before, and decided that next time, he would drag the process out and enjoy the show.

Unable to resist the temptation, he summoned a single pair of black, assless briefs and mixed them in with the rest of Alec’s underwear. Almost identical in build and texture to the others, they disappeared into the crowd of dark fabric. Satisfied with his devilment, he slipped out into the main hall, walking as if he visited with solemn purpose. Damn the portal ban. No one looked twice, accustomed to having Magnus wandering around to help with recent cases. He strolled onward and out into the early afternoon daylight.

~

Alec stared down at his phone, not really seeing the screen as his mind wandered. Should he text Magnus? What should he say? Should he wait a few hours to avoid seeming obsessive? Was he obsessive?

He leaned against a crumbling concrete staircase, waiting for Jace and Clary to regroup with him after casing one of Melusine’s potential hideouts. He refocused on the bright pixels, absent-mindedly opening his chat to reread the last message between himself and the warlock.

Magnus Bane - 04:29

In that case, I’m at the door.

I never disappoint you. 😉

I should definitely text him, Alec decided.

Alec Lightwood - 15:27

No, you never do. 😊

“Hey.” Jace’s voice beside him startled Alec. He jumped, instinctively reaching for his seraph blade. Jace laughed, holding an arm up in mock defense.

“You’re really off today, Alec. What’s going on?”

Alec shook his head, brushing off his parabatai’s concern.

“I told you. I just need to catch up on sleep. Are we going or not?”

“Yeah,” Jace said slowly, glancing questioningly back at Clary, as if to ensure he was not alone in his curiosity. “All clear.”

They slipped through the entrance to the dated apartment complex behind a very overwhelmed mundane mother, struggling to herd her three young children. Alec trailed, keeping Clary with her limited experience safely between himself and his parabatai.

An assortment of tired-looking characters lurked along the hallways, all mundane. They stooped on front steps, or went about their daily lives with windows and doors propped open to combat the lack of central cooling. Summer was just beginning to fade into Autumn, and the breeze outside blew chillier than the stagnant indoor air.

Alec turned the events of the past 24 hours over and over in his mind as he followed his companions upward. I had sex this morning. The phrase hovered awkwardly in his head, foreign and pleasing. He had never expected his first time to be so… unexpected. Only the day before, he had never kissed anyone—a source of consistent ribbing from Jace and Izzy. Now, he had an entire secret sex life they didn’t know about. That thought brought him strange satisfaction. This relationship—or whatever it was—with Magnus Bane was his. Only his to know about. Only his to think about. He liked it.

His attention wandered back down to his phone in his pocket. He fished it out, checking that Clary and Jace had their attention directed forward before unlocking it and scrolling down to his messenger app. Magnus had yet to view the message. He couldn’t blame him—only a few minutes had passed. Then, just before Alec closed the app, the warlock’s icon shifted downward to indicate that he had at just at that moment opened the chat and started viewing it. Alec paused, holding the phone out to see if Magnus would begin typing a response.

“Alec, everything okay?” Jace asked. Alec’s gaze shot upward, to where Clary and Jace had gained almost half a floor of a lead on him without him noticing. Clary peered down at him from beside her brother, both of them clearly concerned by his preoccupation.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Alec answered. He quickly shoved the phone away.

Distracted by my phone on a mission, he scolded himself. I’m acting like a child. The mission comes first.

At the top of the staircase, the shadowhunters met a similar scene as the one on the first floor. Open doors, a few residents loitering in the hallways. Along one wall, white paint crumbled away to reveal a neutral, greyish blue underneath. One thin, bony man smoked a cigarette at the end of the hallway, blowing the smoke out of the open window. The three of them approached, careful not to bump into him as they examined one of the few closed doors—the unit they had been tipped off about. Jace produced his stele, preparing to draw a subtle Unlocking Rune underneath the handle—the second time he would be using it so far that day.

Alec fought off a smile, recalling how giggly and giddy he and Magnus had been while fleeing from his parabatai only a few hours before. As if on cue, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. A resounding, clear ding echoed down the hall. The man next to the window stood up straight, searching confusedly around. A few other individuals glanced around as well, unsure where it had come from. None of them reached for their own pockets, and Alec realized they probably didn’t own smartphones. The tone chimed again.

Clary shot him a snarky glance.

“What’s the point of an Invisibility Rune if you don’t silence your phone?” she asked, failing to fight off a grin. Alec flushed, almost dropping the phone in his rush to mute the notifications.

Childish, he repeated to himself, unsure whether he was continuing his earlier self-scolding, or referring to Clary turning his own words back against him.

They remained frozen by the door for some time, waiting for the mundanes to return their attention elsewhere before opening it delicately and sneaking inside.

“This is a bust,” Clary sighed some time later, running her thin fingers through her curls. “I found some dirty dishes in the kitchen, but aside from that, it doesn't look like she spent much time here. And we’re running out of daylight. Izzy, Simon, and I are meeting Rafael tonight.”

“You head out,” Alec directed. “Jace and I can finish up here.” He ignored the buzzing in his pocket.

“Who is that?” Jace asked. “Is your phone broken?”

Unlike most Shadowhunters, who tended to be very economical texters—consolidating information into one or two concise messages—Magnus Bane had a habit of bombarding Alec with dozens of tiny messages at once. He wrote in small fragments, sometimes taking three or four texts to complete a single sentence. Alec’s phone danced away, muffled vibrations echoing across the room.

“I think something’s wrong with it,” Alec agreed quickly. He held the power button, shutting it off. Clary raised an eyebrow in his direction. Jace shook his head skeptically, but did not press the matter.

“I’ll see you guys later, then,” Clary said. She checked through the peephole before opening the front door and slinked away past the dawdling mundanes. Alec felt an uncharacteristic moment of pride. He had taught her to do that. It would not be very covert to have invisible shadowhunters swinging doors open haphazardly without ensuring no mundanes would see it first. He brushed the brief emotion away swiftly. Clary Fairchild was not his friend.

With Clary gone, Jace turned purposefully toward Alec, changing the subject as if he had been waiting a while for the opportunity.

“Alec, I need to ask you something.”

Alec paused his wandering, directing his full attention to his parabatai.

“What’s going on?”

“Hodge had this,” Jace lifted his hand, and a ring materialized on it. “A Seelie ring. Valentine has the other one.”

“You’ve been talking to him?” Horror and adrenaline rushed Alec’s bloodstream. “How often? Jace, why would you think this is okay?”

“Just once or twice. But Alec, he wants me to join him.”

“And… what?” Alec demanded. “You’re considering it? Are you insane? What’s wrong with you?”

“Not the way you’re thinking,” Jace defended. “This is an opportunity.”

“Oh. Sure. An opportunity to get you killed.”

“Alec, listen. He has the cup. This could be our only in. It’s an easy one. With anyone else you’d allow it, and you know it.”

Alec didn’t respond. Jace had a point. And the irony of his displeasure at Jace hiding these conversations was not lost on him. He was upset with his parabatai, but he could not blame him. At least Jace had brought it up now.

“Can we talk about this later?” Alec finally asked. “We would need a lot of careful planning.” He ran his hand through his hair, possibilities swarming his brain. Jace was rash. Alec would find a different way to retrieve the Mortal Cup.

“Thanks, Alec.”

They continued their search of the tiny apartment. After several minutes, Jace’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Clary’s right. This is useless. Does this building have any cameras?”

“No, Jace, I really don’t think so.” Alec ambled after Jace into the kitchen, eyes skimming over the array of dirty bowls and falling on three spice jars stacked in the corner.

“Middlemist,” Alec observed portentously, lifting the top jar and examining the bright pink petals.

“What?” Jace asked, confused.

“This flower. I’ve seen it before,” Alec mumbled.

“Where?” Jace questioned, baffled. He almost sounded impressed.

Magnus’, Alec thought.

“It’s used in magic,” he said aloud. Powerful spells, he wanted to add. But he was not ready to explain where he learned that information. “We should take all of this. Get it back to the Institute so Izzy can take a look at it when they’re back from the Hotel Du Mort.” Magnus, too.

Outside the building, Alec powered his phone back on.

Magnus Bane - 15:58

Oh, Alec.

That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.

I’m home now, btw.

I forgot for a minute about the portals

That I’ve been blocking them.

But I walked right out.

I’m basically a shadowhunter.

So sneaky.

You’d be proud.

Magnus Bane - 16:47

Why is your sister bringing Camille to my house?

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you let Camille out,” Alec admonished. “You were supposed to be the responsible one on this mission, Iz.” He strode behind her up the stairs toward Magnus’ apartment. His heart hammered erratically. Aside from a quick exchange confirming that Magnus had made his way out of the Institute unaccosted, Alec had yet to talk to him since stashing him away in his bathroom that morning. He wanted to sit down with him in person, pour them both a glass of wine, and figure out what they meant to each other. Admittedly, he also wanted to do more than talk—longing to feel the warlock’s lips on his, taste his breath. He wanted to know that last night was as meaningful to Magnus as it had been to him.

But for now, the mission came first.

Alec’s nerves accelerated as they traipsed into the apartment. He heard Camille’s voice, low and sultry, mumble something unintelligible. He picked up the word “angel.” When he turned the corner, he stopped in his tracks.

Magnus and Camille stood lip-locked. Alec’s heart dropped. The two immortals fit together intimately, in a way two people could only learn to do after years of familiarity.

Did I do something? Alec wondered. Is he upset with me? He recalled the salty tone of the warlock’s voice when he last spoke of Camille, and considered that maybe they had some unresolved issues that Alec had blinded himself to. Centuries of on-again off-again romance was likely difficult to just brush under the rug. He should have known better.

His initial wave of self-blame and dejection melted away, leaving behind an icy shell of hurt anger. Did the last 24 hours even mean anything to him in the first place? Maybe he really is more of the casual, freewheeling type. Confusion boiled in Alec’s chest.

No one ever cares for me the way I care for them. How could he have forgotten that one, very important rule?

Magnus extricated himself from the vampiress’ arms and skittered backwards, distancing himself from her.

“Well, this is awkward,” the warlock observed, panic-stricken.

Alec let his eyes slide over the pair of them, masking his distress behind a disdainful stare. He held his tongue.

The mission comes first.

“Where’s the book?” he asked.

“It’s… complicated,” Magnus answered, turning fully toward Alec and stepping in his direction. Face blank, the archer took a matching step backward. Alec wondered if the warlock was still referring to the book.

“Clearly,” he said shortly, eyes returning to Camille. She piped up at the attention, leaning out from behind Magnus. There was something uncomfortable about the way she sized Alec up, as if he were some curious new dish she’d never eaten before. 

“I have it!” she volunteered, an underhanded smile curving across her lips as she examined Alec in more detail. She made no attempt to mask her hungry fascination. 

“... and she’s graciously offered it in exchange for her freedom!” Magnus added. He glanced between Camille and the shadowhunters, eyes wide. He always spoke with his hands when he got nervous, waving them around like a drunken Italian. He did so now, gesturing toward the manipulative vampire as he spoke directly to Alec, tone pleading.

“And her freedom requires a lip-lock?” Izzy chimed in. Magnus turned to her briefly, holding up his ring-clad index finger in betrayal, as if he had expected her sympathy. Alec shot her a sideways glance, wishing she would leave the topic alone. He quickly cut in, steering the conversation firmly back toward the mission.

“We don’t negotiate with prisoners,” he informed Camille. He closed some of the space between them so his height towered imposingly over her. Looking down on her so sharply gave him an air of confident dismissiveness.

“Prisoner?” Camille asked. She took one step back, away from Alec’s commanding frame, positioning herself to keep Magnus between them. “I beg to disagree. You see, I’m your only chance at saving the world. You need me.” She smiled, shrewd and cunning.

Alec lifted his eyes disinterestedly from Camille’s speech and found Magnus’ deep brown gaze waiting for him. The warlock mimed a desperate spinning motion over his ear. She’s crazy, he silently pleaded. Alec kept his expression even as he dropped his regard deliberately back to the vampire, completely ignoring Magnus’ attempts to further catch his attention. Magnus gave up, staring forlorn at one of his bookshelves across the room.

“You certainly have a type, don’t you, Magnus?” Camille continued. She eyed Alec wittingly, as if she knew something very important that he did not. Her lips stretched into a smile to reveal her perfect teeth. “He’s cute. Too bad it won’t last.”

Izzy bristled again, jumping to her brother’s defense despite having little to no idea about the true nature of Alec and Magnus’ relationship.

“Say that again, you won’t last,” Izzy threatened.

“Will you cut it out?” Alec snapped, more to Izzy than anyone else. Her over-intense reactions only exacerbated the situation. Alec would think it sweet that she defended his crushes so fiercely, if it weren’t so mortifying.

“I’d say he’s about 20 years from male pattern baldness,” Camille taunted. Alec rolled his eyes. Even immortals can act like adolescents.

“Alright, I don’t have time for this,” he said, cutting off any further squabbling. He ignored the two women and looked straight back to Magnus, his countenance completely professional and devoid of emotion aside from a small, disconcertingly polite half-smile, as if he and the warlock barely knew each other. If Alec was good at one thing, it was apathy.

“Where’s Clary?” he asked, all business.

The mission comes first.

Magnus stared at the floor like a scolded child and pointed to the next room. Without any further words, Alec brushed past him and as far from the situation as he could get while still doing his job.

~

“I think… The Man Who,” Clary suggested. She leaned forward from her spot in the back of Simon’s van, resting her chin on the shoulder of the driver’s seat where Simon slouched casually. He skipped through songs on his phone, never letting one play for more than ten seconds. Alec rolled his eyes, staring out of the passenger side window. The Alucard building towered in front of them, wealthy mundanes and downworlders alike bustling in and out of the main entrance.

“I don’t know,” Simon mused. “I’m thinking he’d be a Foster the People kind of guy.”

“Oh my gosh,” Clary declared, “Yes! You are so right.” She changed focus, turning to Alec. “Alec, you have to listen to them.” She tapped a delicate hand on to Alec’s shoulder for emphasis. Alec brushed it away with a disapproving glance, then returned his eyes to the grandiose doorway of the Alucard.

“This is a stakeout,” he scolded boredly. “You should be watching for Circle members and vampires, not DJ-ing. Music is a distraction.” How do they still have this much energy after so long in here? Is this exciting to them?

“Aw, come on,” Simon implored. “Just one song. You’ll love it—I promise.”

“That seems ambitious,” Alec deadpanned. His gaze did not shift, remaining disinterested and focused on their target.

“I’m putting it on!” Simon announced.

“How did I get stuck with this job?” Alec asked the window.

“You volunteered,” Simon answered unhelpfully. “Are you avoiding your sister? You seem tense. Well, more tense than usual.”

Izzy strolled by across the street, a random passerby to anyone who didn’t know to look for her. Her elegant navy cocktail dress shimmered under the glow of the street lights. Alec considered fleeing the van and ordering Izzy to switch with him, but she blended in to the affluent city block much more naturally than he would, and Magnus also wandered somewhere else nearby, whom Alec was unprepared to face. He ruminated on the swirl of events that brought him to the current moment.

So much had happened. How was he supposed to process it all? Would seeking out Magnus to hear his side be naive? Would it exacerbate Alec’s heartache? He remembered how comfortably he and Magnus had awoken. He tapped his finger absent-mindedly against his knee, trying to make sense of his feelings.

“See? I told you you’d like it!” Simon’s chatter cut in to Alec’s woolgathering. His eyes fell on Simon’s phone screen.

‘Worst Nites.' What an irritatingly appropriate title.

“You should smile more, Alec,” Clary said, twirling a curl of hair around her finger. “You’re always so solemn and serious all the time. You know, it’s okay to relax and just enjoy some music every once in awhile.”

Alec frowned. The image of Camille sucking on Magnus’ face returned to the forefront of his thoughts, thinning his already fragile patience.

“Mundanes like weird music. And I’m not relaxing. You shouldn’t be either. We’re on a mission.”

“... or not.” Clary fell back into her seat with a huff.

A knock on the glass next to Alec’s face drew everyone’s attention sharply to his window. Izzy leaned against the car, motioning them to roll it down. Alec obliged.

“Slacking off on the job, big brother?” she teased. “Ooh, nice song choice. Since when do you listen to modern music? Is it Jace’s playlist?”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Simon poked his head around Alec, holding up his phone. “It’s mine.”

“Ah,” she crooned. “I should have known better than to credit Alec for good music with you in the car, Simon.”

“What is with you people today?” Alec grumbled. Izzy snickered.

“Anyways, I think we’re good,” Izzy said. “No one in or out. Jace is on his way.”

“Tell him to meet us up there,” Alec instructed. He swung the door open, eager to stretch his legs and desperate not to spend a single minute longer trapped in a small space with the little redhead girl and her pet vampire.

Books stacked floor to ceiling in the ornate apartment, occupying walls of built-in shelves. The group sifted through them, entirely unsure where to start, or what to look for. Magnus shot Alec furtive glances at every opportunity, which Alec willfully did not acknowledge.

The mission comes first. Alec made a point of prowling through different rooms than the warlock, keeping his focus on the books. Clary’s voice from the other room caught his ear.

“I’m not leaving without it... you said yourself. We have to stay on mission.” Something about her tone alarmed him. Alec beelined for her, lifting the phone from her grip.

“Hey!” Clary exclaimed.

“Look for your book,” Alec ordered. Clary pouted, but obeyed.

“Jace,” Alec said. “What’s going on?”

“Valentine is on the way,” Jace warned.

“Understood.” Alec ended the call, circling through the rooms. Clary was just going to ignore that? Not warn us? Reckless. “Everyone out,” he called. “We’ve got to go. Now.” Alec refused to endanger everyone he cared about for the sake of Jocelyn Fairchild. Clary’s mother would be just fine sleeping another few days.

All around him, hands dropped books and darted to blades. Feet strode toward the door. All except for Clary and Simon.

She’s going to be the death of us all, Alec groaned inwardly, darting around the apartment in search of her. He found her in the first room they investigated, staring down at a plain, mundane cookbook, Simon hovering over her shoulder.

“This is it,” she declared. In front of her the pages shimmered, transforming into an ancient tome.

“You did it!” Simon proclaimed. Alec opened his mouth to snap at them to hurry up, but Izzy’s voice rang out from behind him, beating him to it.

“We gotta go. He’s here.”

They dashed to the door, but they were too late. Rough hands with a shadowhunter’s strength grabbed Alec from behind, a glowing blade pressed to his neck. Izzy and Simon found themselves in similar predicaments, leaving Clary standing helpless and alone with her magic book.

Where’s Magnus? Alec realized. Panic seeped into his veins.

“Where’s your brother?” Valentine asked his daughter. Clary hugged the book tighter.

“You think I’d tell you?”

“You won’t have to,” Valentine answered. Simon broke free of his restraint, easily outmatching his shadowhunter adversary with his still unfamiliar vampire strength.

“Stay away from her!” The resulting scuffle ended in an instant, Valentine lunging for Simon, and Izzy knocking his blade hand aside with a crack of her whip. Alec’s eyes scanned the room again. No blood. No sign of any other violence.

Magnus, where are you?

“Stop!” Jace exclaimed, crashing into the room. Alec seized the distraction. He dropped his weight, ducking under the seraph blade that threatened him as it scraped against his face. The newly-minted Circle member grabbed at him, but Alec caught him with an elbow, knocking his breath away. This man might be a shadowhunter by blood, but he did not have the lifetime of training that Alec did.

Chaos broke out. Simon darted off the floor in a blur of vampiric speed, dashing straight to Clary. Izzy and Alec rounded on the remaining Circle members. Jace and Valentine danced around each other, neither of them able to land a blow.

Clary screamed something to Simon, and Alec turned to see another dozen Circle members streaming into the room through the doorway. Behind him, a resounding thud pulled his attention back toward Jace and his father, who grappled on the antique hardwood floor. Jace pinned Valentine’s arm down, reaching out for his blade a few feet away as if he intended to cut it off, like he had to Hodge. Valentine wrested himself away from Jace’s grip. A subtle glimmer caught Alec’s eye, rolling across the floor toward him.

“Alec!” Jace called. Alec did not require explanation from his parabatai. He swiped Valentine’s Seelie ring off the floor in one fluid motion as he dashed to Jace’s aid, pulling him to his feet. The flood of Circle members reached them then, restraining Alec and leaving Jace to face Valentine alone. One of Valentine’s men scuffled in from another room, Magnus held in front of him with his arms twisted behind him. Relief surged through Alec, unexpected dizziness spinning the room around him. They all stood, tension crackling between them as each person waited for anyone else to make a move.

“Let us go!” Clary cried. “You can have the book. We can’t stop you without it.”

“Ah, Clarissa,” Valentine sighed. “So like your mother. Willing to do anything for those that you love. I’m touched… but the book was never part of my plan.” He paused, as if to let this new information sink in. ”I want you to wake up your mother. I know that you’ll both join me eventually.” He turned then to his son. “You ready?”

Jace looked to Alec. Alec shook his head. Don’t.

“If I go with you, promise me you won’t hurt them.” Jace said.

“You have my word.”

“This is insane!” Clary cut in.

“I’m sorry, Clary,” Jace said. He dropped his blade.

“Jace, what are you doing? You can’t be serious! Valentine is wrong. You’re not like him. I’m not. You’re not!” Clary’s voice cracked. Alec stared at the floor. He remembered Jace’s recent fears, terrified he would somehow turn out exactly like his father. What if going with Valentine wound up convincing Jace of exactly that?

“You don’t know that,” Jace answered sadly, soothing Clary as best he could. Alec could feel his lies strongly through the bond. Jace was playing up his confusion, bolstering Valentine’s sick need to control him. For now, at least, it was all an act.

“Let them go,” Valentine commanded. His minions lowered their weapons. Alec subtly slipped the Seelie ring onto his finger.

We can fight now, he thought to Jace, activating the ring. Let’s think this through.

“Get back,” Jace charged as everyone started toward him at once. “Get back!”

Jace, don’t, Alec thought. He had barely moved a muscle to step toward his parabatai when Jace turned on him.

“Alec, I mean it!” Let me go. We need to do this. You know we do.

Alec halted, his lips drawn into a thin line. I don’t like it.

Neither do I. I’ll keep in touch. Take care of Clary for me, will you?

Alec nodded. Further argument would be useless now. He had no choice but to trust his parabatai. Be careful.

With that, Jace followed Valentine past the shadowhunters and back out the front door he had just entered through. He shot one last meaningful glance in their direction before disappearing. Clary called out to him, stumbling toward the empty doorway. Alec caught her, holding her back.

“What are you doing?” she howled.

“Saving your life, and probably all of ours,” Alec murmured into her ear. “Let him go.”

The remaining Circle members began to file out after the Morgenstern men. The one holding Magnus, tall and tanned, shoved the warlock onto the floor.

“He told us to spare the shadowhunters for his son’s sake,” he snarled. “He didn’t say anything about the downworlders.”

The world moved in slow motion.

The man pointed his seraph blade downward, plunging it toward Magnus’ chest. Magnus’ hands shot up defensively, a pale blue fire coiling in his palms. Izzy, Simon, and Clary’s heads twisted around, observing, but not yet understanding what they were seeing. Only Alec’s eyes had already been searching in that direction.

No! Alec activated his Speed Rune on instinct. His body shot forward, a blur of motion. When he stopped, he knelt in front of Magnus, facing the Circle member. His seraph blade was buried in the man’s chest. The faintly glowing edge protruded from the stranger’s back, stained with scarlet. A paltry orb of azure light whistled by Alec’s face from behind him, sailing past the dying man several inches wide of its target. Magnus would have missed.

Alec leaned in close, whispering in the hateful shadowhunter’s ear so no one else could hear him. All the frustration and anger from the past several weeks seethed venomously into his words.

“That downworlder is a better man than you will ever be.” He yanked his blade free. The stranger fell heavily to the side, air rushing from his lungs with grievous finality. Alec channeled his remaining aggression into chucking his seraph blade to the side, spinning on his knees to face Magnus. The blade clattered loudly across the floor.

Alec spoke to the warlock softly. “Are you okay?”

Magnus remained curled on his back, hands raised in front of him. He reached for Alec’s outstretched arm, sitting up.

“I’m alright,” he stared, eyes round. “Did you just save my life?”

Alec’s hands shook. He tried to think of something smooth to say. Instead, he just shrugged. He stood, pulling the warlock up with him.

I guess now would be a bad time to ask him about us. He became suddenly aware of Izzy, Simon, and Clary watching, all still recovering from the scare. Clary sniffled, and Simon wrapped a protective arm around her.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alec adjured. He steadied Magnus, who still seemed a bit shaken, then spun and strode away. He listened to ensure that they followed, but did not look back. He refused to let them all see just how afraid he had been.

Chapter Text

Alec could not relax until his disheartened group of shadowhunters and downworlders scuffed through the doors of the Institute. For once, Clary and Simon remained silent. He was grateful for that, at least. He surveyed them, ensuring no one required any extensive healing.

Jace, you still there? He reached out tentatively through the Seelie ring.

I’m hiding the ring for now. You won’t hear from me until tomorrow. Get some sleep. I need you on top of your game. His parabatai’s voice slipped away.

“Everyone get some sleep,” Alec directed tiredly once they reached the main hall. “We need to be ready for anything.”

“What?” Clary finally roused from her quiet shock, jumping directly into passionate outrage.

Back to herself already, I see. Alec recalled then that he had yet to fill anyone in on Jace’s plan. He had been waiting until they returned, but his fatigue took the front seat the moment he walked in the door.

“You’re just going to let your parabatai remain hostage?” Clary continued, “Do you care about him at all ?”

Alec’s temper flared at the accusation. Clary had known Jace for how long? She has no right.

“Hey!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare suggest I don’t care about Jace!” The frustration and anger from earlier returned, a crackling cloud of blurry feelings. His head throbbed behind his eyes, reminding him of just how little sleep he had gotten in the past few days. Contrary to what one would expect of such extreme exhaustion, it flooded him with an unsettled, antsy energy. He towered over Clary. Her brow furrowed stubbornly, ready to accuse him of further betrayals.

I killed a man literally an hour ago, Alec reflected. Test me again. Fatigue muddied his thoughts. His expression must have betrayed his angry frustration, because next to Clary, Simon took a half step back.

“Alexander…” Magnus’ voice cut through the heavy haze that blanketed Alec’s mind.

You’re tired. Simmer down. Alec calmed himself, regaining composure.

“Jace has been my brother a lot longer than he’s been your… whatever you two are to each other,” he commented coolly, one brow raised.

Clary flushed. Next to him, Alec heard a quiet “oof” from the warlock.

“Come with me,” Alec ordered. The entire group followed. He lead them to his office—one of the most heavily warded rooms in the Institute—and locked the door behind them.

“I couldn’t exactly explain the situation outside of the Institute,” he started. “You never know who’s listening in. Here, at least, we can be safe from prying ears and spells.” Alec examined the small squad of mismatched people before him—one shadowhunter, one shadowhunter-in-training, a baby vampire, and the High Warlock of Brooklyn. They were screwed. He held up his right hand to their expectant gazes, de-glamouring the Seelie ring on his third finger.

“Jace went with Valentine willingly,” Alec explained. “He has the other ring—the one Valentine used to communicate with Hodge.”

“Won’t Valentine notice his ring is missing?” Simon asked, stating the obvious. “Wasn’t he, like, wearing it?”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, Jace knocked it off of him during the fight. It wasn’t exactly well-planned on his part. Which is why I wanted to discuss things further before letting him go in. But the opportunity arose and I couldn’t stop him—as usual. Now we just have to do our best to be ready when he needs us. So Clary,” Alec redirected his attention to the headstrong redhead. “may we please get some sleep so that we can be useful to him?”

Clary crossed her arms. “You could have just said that,” she grumbled.

“Great,” Alec smiled thinly, failing to mask his dry tone. “Then you are all dismissed. We’ll discuss our next move in the morning.”

Alec couldn’t place the storm of frustration, anger, exhaustion, anguish, and general bleakness that coursed through him. So many things had happened, and he had so little sleep to fuel any rational reaction to it all. He just wanted to go to bed.

He flipped the overhead light off as the others began to file out, leaving only the tenuous, golden glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the study. Savoring the relief of quiet darkness, he collapsed into his chair, sinking his head into his hands. Everything felt wrong. He wondered if he even had the strength to pick himself back up out of the chair and drag himself to his room. He considered sleeping at his desk—it would not be the first time.

“Alexander?” The voice came timidly. Alec lifted his gaze. Magnus Bane still hovered in the doorway. “Can we speak?”

Alec considered refusing, sending the warlock away. He was not entirely sure he could hold a proper conversation at the moment. But he could not bring himself to crush the tiny flicker of hope in Magnus’ eyes. And then there was the fact that Alec really, really just wanted to be near him. Another spark of frustrated hurt twisted in his chest at that realization.

“Sit,” he answered gruffly. He lifted his shoulders back up, leaning one elbow wearily on his chair. Magnus edged back into the room, closing the door with barely a noise. He approached the desk, but remained standing, shifting uneasily on his feet.

“I just want to say thank you. For saving my life… again,” Magnus put forth. “Maintaining the portal blocking spell has been taking a greater toll on me than I realized. I’m lucky you were there. I know you’re probably exhausted—I certainly am—so I’ll leave it at that for now. But I hope we can talk later.”

He spun to leave after the brief speech, ending the conversation before it had even begun. Alec kept his eyes fixed on the warm woodgrain of his desk, dimmed to a dark espresso in the gloom.

“No,” he said.

Magnus froze, still facing the door.

“No?” he asked softly. “All that, and you won’t even speak to me now? You just killed a man for me, Alec. How often have you done such a thing?” He turned back to face the enervated archer, eyes searching. “It’s not the same as demons.”

“No, not later,” Alec clarified, his voice gravelly. “Now.” He pointed to the chair on the other side of his desk. “I won’t sleep otherwise,” the shadowhunter admitted reluctantly.

Magnus froze, speechless. He took a moment to pull himself together, then returned to Alec’s desk and seated himself cautiously. Alec waited, unsure where to start. Finally, Magnus took the plunge for him.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, so I’ll just say it once. Whatever I felt for Camille, it’s ancient history. Almost literally.”

“Then why?” It was all Alec could muster. He wove his fingers together on the desk in front of him. The choler that had plagued him since that afternoon crumbled away, leaving Alec with nothing to articulate except his crushing insecurity. “Magnus, if this thing between us is just a casual fling to you, I need to know.”

The overwhelming weight of that possibility quelled the last of the irate energy that sustained Alec over the past few hours. He rested his elbows heavily on the desk, resigned to whatever answer the warlock might give. He had not realized just how afraid the potential answer made him.

“Alexander, no, of course not.” Magnus faltered forward, hands wrapping around Alec’s. The shadowhunter tensed, but was too tired to tear them away. He allowed them to rest in Magnus’ grip. His heart reeled. The warlock continued. “Camille, when she sees something that is good, she destroys it. She’s bitter, and ugly. And resentful. I think a part of her will always loathe the happiness of others, because she’s too far gone to ever find any herself.”

“She did that… deliberately?” Alec dropped his head, resting his forehead on the inner creases of his elbows while his hands remained encompassed by the warlock’s. “But how would she even know?” his voice echoed in the space between his arms and the desk.

“She… smelled you.”

Alec’s head shot back upward, one eyebrow raised. “She smelled me? What are you trying to say?”

Magnus briefly struggled to control the giggle that bubbled up at Alec’s suddenly offended tone. He stifled the laugh immediately, not wanting to exacerbate the shadowhunter’s confused unease. Of course, that would be the detail that the shadowhunter focused in on.

“Alexander, you were inside of me less than twenty-four hours ago. A single shower is not going to wash that scent away from a nose as discerning as a millennium-old vampire’s.”

Alec did not know how to respond to that. His insides churned. He wanted to stay upset, but a flicker of satisfaction sparked in his chest at the memory.

“I… ” He squeezed Magnus’ fingers, trailing off. Magnus squeezed back.

“It’s okay,” the warlock soothed. “It’s a lot. It’s been a crazy few days. I get it.” Magnus began to rise, but Alec held his hands firmly, locking him in place.

“Two.” he said. He stared downward again, his heart in his throat. He had never discussed this with anyone before, not even Jace.

“Two what?” Magnus asked, tilting his head. He sat back down, sensing this was an important admission.

“Two people,” Alec answered. He could not keep his eyes away from the warlock’s for long. He ached for how Magnus seemed to always stare straight into him, enraptured, like Alec was the only thing that mattered. “The Circle member in Camille’s apartment today, and the one in your club, a couple months ago. The first time we met.”

Magnus held Alec’s gaze, and Alec saw his own reflection defined more sharply than before in the new sheen over the warlock’s eyes.

“Both for me,” Magnus whispered. Alec nodded. “My guardian angel.”

Magnus sounded heartbroken. He stared down at their joined hands, his voice wavering.

Alec found himself on the other side of the desk before his thoughts could catch up with his actions. His lips melted into Magnus’. He tasted just as Alec remembered—had it really only been less than a day since they last kissed? Every fraction of a second crawled by, extended infinitely by Alec’s drowsy mind. He savored it. Welcomed it. He somehow ended up on the chair with Magnus, kneeling over him.

“I need to sleep,” Alec sighed after what might have been hours, but was only minutes. He no longer wanted to, but he already drifted dangerously in and out of consciousness.

“Come sleep at my place,” Magnus urged faintly, his head drooping against the back of the chair as Alec brushed tired lips over his neck.

“I can’t,” Alec said. He disentangled himself from Magnus sluggishly, standing up. He swayed as he rose. When he saw the warlock’s forlorn expression, he elaborated. “I just really need sleep, and, at your place… ” Alec could feel his pulse in his fingertips. He left the last part unsaid. I won’t.

Magnus’ pupils dilated. He followed Alec up, standing, then pressed the shadowhunter against the desk. Alec suppressed a moan, grabbing the back of Magnus’ head as the warlock kissed his neck, his collarbone, his ear. Both of them breathed heavily when they broke apart.

“Sweet dreams, Alexander,” the warlock whispered.

“Good night, Magnus Bane.”

The warlock’s lips twitched upward at Alec’s use of his full name. He dragged himself off of Alec’s body, and almost lost himself in his shadowhunter’s half-asleep smile. It took all of his willpower to turn himself around and walk away.

Chapter Text

Hey buddy.

Alec’s eyes fluttered open to pale moonlight streaming in to his bedroom. He glanced around, confused. The room was empty.

“Jace?” he asked aloud, his mind still foggy from sleep.

Alec, you there?

Alec shot up in bed, fingers skimming over the ring on his right hand.

Sorry, he apologized. You’d think after a week I’d be used to this. He slid out from under his sheets, meandering to his bathroom to splash water on his face. Everything okay?

Define okay, Jace answered wryly. Valentine’s lackey army is growing and I can’t get anywhere near the cup.

Do you want us to come get you?

No. I’m just checking in to give you a heads up. He’s hunting down some werewolf girl today. One of Luke’s.

I’ll let him know. Silence filled the connection for a moment. Jace broke it hesitantly.

How’s Clary?

She’s hanging in there. Your sister is strong. She’s throwing herself into training. She misses you. Alec immediately regretted reminding Jace of his emotional predicament as silence fell again. You sure you don’t want to come home?

Of course I want to come home. Jace sounded pained even through their thoughts. But I can’t yet.

I understand. The mission comes first. Alec pulled a shirt over his head, resigning himself to being awake. Hang in there. And, Jace?

Yeah?

Sorry for letting the Clave declare you a criminal. It’s just hard to keep your cover if you’re not being… you know… hunted down.

I know, buddy. We’ll work it out when I get back. Alec heard a breathy sound, like a sigh. I’ll check in later, Jace added.

Be safe.

Fully dressed, Alec wandered to the espresso machine. The familiar, syrupy scent of rose and soy surprised him at this early hour. He forewent the coffee and headed toward the training room. Thumps and blows echoed down the hallway. As he approached, he discerned heavy breathing—female, more delicate than most of the others in the Institute.

Clary Fairchild hunched in front of a hanging bag, kicking and hitting in steady rhythm. The skin over her knuckles shone red.

Looks like we had the same idea. Alec shuffled into the room, circling her thoughtfully. Clary glanced at him once, transiently, then returned pointedly to her venting.

“Drop your elbows,” Alec instructed. Clary paused, lifting her stance and rolling her eyes as if to talk back, then stopped herself. She contemplated for a moment, examining Alec skeptically. Then, without a word, she returned to her previous stance, tucking her elbows in as instructed, and threw another punch, grunting angrily.

“Good,” Alec commented. “Doesn’t that feel better?” Clary nodded, repeating the same motion with her other arm.

“Your stance needs work,” Alec said. He turned to stand next to her, demonstrating his position. “Never a straight line. Instead, think of your feet as opposite corners of a box. Your back heel should be lifted slightly, enough to offer some shock absorption.”

Clary nodded, adjusting her posture, her nose crinkling in concentration.

“There you go,” Alec said. He shoved her, pushing roughly against her shoulder.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, stumbling and catching herself. Alec ignored her outrage.

“If you had been in your previous position, that would have sent you flying,” he pointed out. Clary frowned at him, but returned begrudgingly to her fighting stance, launching several punches at the bag. She bounced on the balls of her feet, hopping to switch her leading leg, and repeated the routine.

“Close your hands fully when you punch,” Alec ordered. Clary obeyed, gritting her teeth and punching harder. The bag drifted, chains protesting with rusty groans. Alec turned away, wandering to the side of the room. Clary ignored his meandering, focusing on her practice. He returned holding two thickly padded blocking mitts.

“Want to try beat me up?” he jabbed, sliding the gloves over his hands. Clary shook her head, eyes remaining fixed to the punching bag. “Come on,” Alec coaxed. “You can only learn so much beating up a stationary bag.”

Clary huffed, dropping her arms and pivoting to face Alec.

“Fine,” she griped. Alec raised the mitts, testing his own stance and shifting his weight.

“Throw some elbows at me,” he said. Clary threw a few tentative hits his way, and Alec mirrored her, sometimes dropping and raising the mitts to catch her. “Keep your arm horizontal to the ground.” Clary straightened her arm, spinning to thrust backwards. “Good.”

She tried to same blow again, but he dropped a mitt, grabbing her elbow and tossing her past him. She hit the floor.

Oops, that’s going to bruise, Alec thought. He was not accustomed to sparring with someone so untrained. She leapt back to her feet, scowling. Alec shrugged, playing off her fall as intentional.

“In real combat, you don’t get to repeat the same move over and over again.”

Clary struck him again, and this time, she did not repeat the same sequence twice.

“You can hit me harder,” Alec said. “That’s what the mitt is for.” Clary paused, catching her breath.

“But what if I miss and accidentally hit you?”

Alec laughed at that one.

“Don’t miss,” he answered. After an annoyed look from Clary, he continued. “But, even if you did miss, I would catch it. Why do you think you’ve landed every single strike so far?”

“... oh.” Clary realized. Alec nodded, confirming that her aim had not been quite as on-point as she had thought.

She threw harder blows, trying to dodge past Alec’s remaining mitt and sneak in for a real strike. Each time, the mitt caught her elbow, met her fist. Determined to prove she was not entirely predictable, Clary went for him with her elbow, close range, and followed up with a knee strike. Alec dropped his other glove, palm darting down to catch her knee just before it met his groin.

“That was not very safe for a training environment,” he quipped. Clary hopped on her standing leg, unable to twist herself free from Alec’s grip.

“In real combat, it won’t be safe either,” she shot back, still catching her breath. She twisted, trying to wriggle herself free again, and Alec released her. She stumbled forward, barely catching herself.

“Alright, alright. I deserved that. And, that was actually good,” Alec admitted. “You’re getting a lot better at thinking on your feet.” He returned the mitts to their place. Clary smiled, tilting her head back and forth in what looked like a proud little dance.

“Thanks.”

After a moment of hesitation, Alec spoke up again.

“Jace asked about you this morning,” he said. “I told him you were doing well. That you’ve improved a lot with your training—which is true—and that you would really appreciate him coming home soon.” The words tumbled awkwardly out of his mouth. He wanted to offer her something, anything, to comfort her. He, at least, had the benefit of Jace interrupting his day to day life with updates—even if they did not have the luxury to chat beyond necessary information. Clary had nothing. She stared at the floor, eyes reddening.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m really worried about him.”

“Me too,” Alec agreed quietly.

They stood in silence, both sifting through their thoughts and feelings. Finally, Alec turned back toward the bag that Clary had begun on, practicing a few strikes of his own.

“I’m going to go get some breakfast before our meeting this morning,” Clary piped up. “Do you want me to grab anything for you?”

Alec peered up at the stained glass that overlooked the training room, realizing that the sun had begun to creep its way above the horizon, sending colorful streams of light dancing through the room.

“No, but thanks,” he said. “I’ll see you there.” Clary nodded, then disappeared as silently as any other shadowhunter. 

Alec dug around the room until he located a set of escrima sticks and abandoned his shirt, settling into a familiar rhythm of training. He allowed the exertion to clear his mind, sweating away the stress of the early morning. As the sun floated upward, the array of hues from the stained glass shimmered across the floor, flooding the room with breathtaking vibrancy. Alec swam through thick blue light, dotted with sparse orbs of purples and reds. The saturated shades swept across the defined muscles of his arms as he moved, black runes stark against the brilliant colors that illuminated his pale skin.

From behind him, Alec heard quiet footsteps, then a low whistle.

“Are you attending the meeting like that? You’ll find no protest from me.”

Alec caught the swinging bag, steadying it before turning to face his spectator. Magnus Bane leaned casually in the doorway, sliding his eyes up and down Alec’s body, taking special care to linger on his glistening, now bare chest. A spark of bashful pride fizzled through Alec’s heart in response to the warlock’s lovestruck stare. Alec walked toward him, doing his best not to strut too obviously as he caught his breath. A slight wave of dizziness hit him, though he could not tell if it was from the exertion of training or the unabashed way in which Magnus Bane undressed him with his eyes.

Magnus stepped fully into the room, vivid blues scattering across his hair and face, spilling over the rest of his body. Stopping just short of Alec, he tilted his head and examined the shadowhunter.

Alec dropped the sticks. He floated on a small high from the exercise, dopamine and adrenaline tugging him forward. They had not had the chance to see much of each other in private since Jace left. An intrusive thought ricocheted through Alec’s mind—Alec’s body against Magnus’, both of them pressed against the training room wall. For the first time since he awoke that day, Jace’s situation slipped completely from Alec’s mind.

Shadowhunter and warlock stood inches apart, Alec’s face hovering just over Magnus’. His heartbeat still hammered from the training. Alec felt as if a strong, crackling energy bounced between them, like invisible force fields colliding when they stepped close. He wondered if Magnus was doing something magical, or if it was just in his head.

“Okay, wow,” Magnus interrupted Alec’s steamy train of thought with quiet words. His breath tickled Alec’s cheek as he spoke, cooling the beads of sweat that lingered there. Both of them felt very conscious of the short distance between their lips. “That is not the greeting I expected but I am definitely not complaining.”

Alec became suddenly aware of where they stood. The training room remained empty, much to his relief. But it was still not the right place.

“Sorry,” he stuttered, spell broken. He faltered backwards, leaving a much more professional amount of space between them. “My mind has been somewhere else. What time is it? I need to get ready for the meeting.” He turned and headed toward his room. Magnus followed close on his heels, refusing to let him escape that easily.

“Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here,” the warlock explained. “Don’t worry, we’ve still got a half hour before you need to be all cleaned up.”

“Oh.” Relieved, Alec slowed, allowing Magnus to walk by his side at a more comfortable pace. As they passed through the crowded main hall, Magnus lowered his voice, recalling how sensitive Alec could be around his fellow shadowhunters.

“I was just going to recommend an evening out. You’ve been so stressed by all of this Jace stuff lately—understandably so, of course—but you can’t keep running on fumes like you do.”

They passed absent-mindedly through Alec’s door, the archer watching Magnus with cautious interest.

“Yeah?” he asked. A tiny smile played across his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

Magnus seated himself on Alec’s bed, watching hungrily as the shadowhunter peeled off his shirt and disappeared into the bathroom. He had not been into this room since their first night together, and now here they were, talking about dates. A surge of very devious thoughts crowded his mind, threatening to derail the conversation. He forced himself back to the present.

“Well, I never did finish that bubbler,” Magnus called loudly enough for Alec to hear him. “But I think a little time to relax would benefit you.” He stood and wandered toward the bathroom as he spoke. “Come over to my place tonight,” he suggested. “Take your mind off things for a little while. We’ve barely had a chance to speak alone since that whole thing with Camille.”

Alec poked his head out of the door, jumping when he realized Magnus was right in front of him. The warlock could only see his bare shoulder, and wondered if the shadowhunter had entirely disrobed.

“That… actually sounds really great,” Alec answered, much to Magnus’ surprise. The shadowhunter’s eyes slid down Magnus’ body distractedly. The warlock realized Alec’s mind must be wandering as much as his was.

“Alexander… are you undressed?” Magnus asked, a coquettish smile curling across his lips. He reached to yank the door open wider.

“What? No!” Alec exclaimed, flushing bright red. The door drifted open, revealing the loose sweatpants that still hung lax off Alec’s hips.

“I need to shower before the meeting,” Alec continued. He broke eye contact, glancing around his bedroom distractedly as if he just realized they were alone. “See you there?”

Magnus honed in on the familiar anxiety he noticed playing across Alec’s expression. Like the shadowhunter simultaneously wanted to kiss him and send him away, and could not settle on which.

Oh, he’s so easy, Magnus thought.

“You’re really going to do that to me?” he accused, his voice a low, alluring hum. The warlock abandoned any pretense of trying to keep his intentions in check. He held his grip on the door, preventing Alec from closing it. “Bring me to your bedroom, undress, tease me like this? You’re very cruel to me, Alexander.” He let his eyes wander shamelessly over the one shoulder and arm he could see, biting his lip. “Are you really going to tell me that your thoughts were completely pure during that little moment we had in the training room? You seemed very excited to see me. And I’m sure you’re just as excited now… ” Magnus touched Alec’s exposed arm, his fingers ghosting the pale skin, daintily meandering along the outline of a rune. 

Alec bit his own lip in response without even realizing he was doing it, mindlessly imitating the warlock. His eyes dropped, grip on the door loosening as he drank in the sight of Magnus. Even fully clothed, Magnus Bane was difficult to resist.

“Besides,” Magnus added, running a gentle, enticing finger over Alec’s bicep. “I’m sure you could get clean a lot more quickly if I helped.”

Alec could not fight the gradual, naughty smile that crept over his countenance, watching Magnus’ finger continue to trace along his muscles.

“I somehow doubt that,” Alec shot back slowly. Magnus unbuttoned his jacket, holding the shadowhunter’s gaze, and slid it off over his arms. It dropped into a forgotten pile on the floor.

This was the last straw for Alec. Memories from the week before burst to the forefront of his thoughts, refusing to be ignored. Magnus’ velvet jacket, soft in his grasp—the same one minutes later, piled onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. Alec could not comprehend how such a simple action as dropping a jacket onto the floor—and a completely different one, at that—could provoke such intense desire in him.

He grabbed Magnus by the collar, pulling him into the bright, grey-tiled room and slamming the door behind them, pressing the warlock tightly against it. Magnus gasped, not expecting the outburst. Alec was already halfway through the buttons on his partner’s crisply-ironed shirt, fingers working much more deftly than they had on their previous encounter. With a flick of his wrist the warlock started the shower running, steam quickly clouding the small room.

They kissed so aggressively that Alec wondered if he would have bruises on his lips. He didn’t care. They inhaled in swift gulps of air as they pressed into each other. Alec unfastened Magnus’ belt and pants in seconds, dropping them to the floor so the warlock stood in only his underwear.

“Are you using your Speed Rune?” Magnus asked, words tumbling out in a breathy laugh.

“Maybe,” Alec mumbled elusively, his mouth locked in a gleeful smile, voice muffled as he kissed his way down Magnus’ chest and abs, sinking to his knees.

“Alexander,” Magnus sputtered as the shadowhunter dragged his underwear down, kissing the inside of this thigh. “Perhaps we should take this in to the shower itself?” His hands told a different story, weaving through Alec’s dark hair and tugging at the strands.

“I think… you need to take these off first,” Alec shifted his attention to the warlock’s hands, holding them lightly. He stroked along his fingers, taking one of Magnus’ many rings between his thumb and index finger and sliding it off, dropping it on the bathroom counter with a muted plink.

Alec peered up at Magnus, their eyes connecting. Steam billowed around them, the world shrinking to the intimate gaze they held between them as the shadowhunter removed the warlock’s rings one by one, assembling a small pile of metal next to the sink.

For the first time in their short relationship, Magnus felt self-conscious, as if Alec was stripping off his armor and disassembling it link by link, laying it out on the counter top before him. He steadied himself with a deep breath as the shadowhunter rose, reaching over him to remove his mess of necklaces in a single mass of beads and chains.

“There,” Alec murmured, eyes angled downward, still holding the warlock’s gaze. “Much better.”

Magnus slid his hands across Alec’s bare chest, moving them upward and interlacing his fingers behind his neck. He felt strangely vulnerable. Standing on his toes, he lifted his lips to Alec’s and tugged him back against the door again. Alec moaned as Magnus’ hands wandered, teasing him, fingers brushing over sensitive places. The drawstring of Alec’s pants tugged loose. Magnus pulled them down over Alec’s hips and let them drop to the floor.

“Okay,” Alec finally gasped, tearing himself away. “Shower.”

They stumbled precariously into the hot water. Magnus’ hair quickly lost its gravity-defying height, plastering against his face. Alec brushed it to the side, replacing it with kisses. Magnus pressed his back against the freezing tile, pulling Alec with him. Their lips locked again—hungry, desperate, fumbling over each other.

Alec spun Magnus around, the warlock’s chest and cheek now connecting with the icy ceramic. He moaned as Alec kissed the back of his neck roughly, nipping gently with his teeth and connecting the entire lengths of their bodies, heat radiating between them. Alec kissed down Magnus’ neck to his shoulder, where he bit harder, his erection hard against the warlock’s back. Magnus ground into him. His head lolled to the side as he reached up and behind him to stroke Alec’s hair, the back of his head, his rune-covered neck.

“Alexander,” he uttered. “Please tell me you still have that bottle of lube I left here.”

“One second,” Alec breathed. He stepped out of the shower, droplets of water streaming down his body and dripping to the floor. He disappeared into the main bedroom and returned seconds later, bottle in hand. Without prompting, he squeezed the contents onto his fingers.

“Good boy,” Magnus mumbled into the wall as Alec returned to the shower, fingers venturing downward without instruction. Alec paused, considering this statement. Magnus grinned deviously, but the shadowhunter could not see it. After a few seconds of contemplation, he accepted the praise, but pushed another finger into Magnus a bit more forcefully than on their previous encounter as revenge.

“Aah,” Magnus exclaimed. “Alec! The point of starting with fingers is to prepare me so I don’t end up hurting,” he gasped. His fingernails dug into Alec’s shoulder behind him.

“Mmph,” Alec moaned, burying his face into Magnus’ neck at the sudden pain. “Sorry,” he exhaled, but he did not sound sorry. Judging by Magnus’ growing hardness, the warlock was not as bothered as he pretended to be. Alec persisted at a gentler pace as demanded, movement jerkier as his own tension built just from watching Magnus squirm. The air around them swirled, heavy and thick and misty, scalding water splashing against Alec’s back.

Having been teased with something more, Magnus quickly concluded that their current pace was no longer enough for him.

“So you want it a little rough?” he whimpered, sinking himself more fiercely onto Alec’s fingers. He turned his head as much as he could, nibbling at Alec’s jawline. The shadowhunter’s breath came in uneven spurts, as if he could barely contain himself. It drove Magnus wild.

“I…” Alec started. His statement promptly devolved into a drawn-out “ohh ” as Magnus snatched a fistful of his hair and tugged at it roughly. Alec fell silent, removing his hand from its current task and grasping at the warlock’s hips. Magnus took his cue, releasing Alec’s hair and pressing his palms against the tile for leverage as he stood up on his toes. He arched his back, giving Alec a better angle as he pushed himself into the warlock.

Very undignified sounds escaped both of their mouths as Alec fell into a swift, impassioned rhythm. Magnus rolled his hips against Alec’s thighs, whining. Alec’s hands gripped his hip bones tightly. Magnus hoped he bruised. As if reading his mind, Alec leaned forward and sucked on the soft skin toward the back of where his neck met his shoulder, forming a huge, dark hickey. Magnus’ knees quivered, trembling harder when Alec buried himself completely inside the warlock. One of the shadowhunter’s hands released its death grip on Magnus’ hip, snaking forward to ensure—quite unnecessarily—that the warlock’s pleasure was also being attended to. Magnus almost collapsed right there.

Alec’s grip on Magnus’ cock tightened and froze as he rode through his own orgasm, emitting a series of guttural gasps that Magnus found to be unbearably sexy. The arm that Alec had not busied on Magnus’ cock now encircled the warlock’s waist. Tension still held Magnus rooted where he was, as if he might burst at even the slightest movement. He teetered on the edge, grateful that Alec had momentarily stilled to catch his breath.

The shadowhunter’s cock was still buried inside of him. Magnus could feel every tiny movement of it as they breathed, and his own twitched in response to the thought, fighting for just an instant against Alec’s grasp.

Oh gods, Magnus thought. His entire body shuddered. Alec’s fingers around him began to move again. Slowly, agonizingly. Magnus lifted one of his hands from the wall, biting down on his own finger as he wriggled against Alec’s insistent touch. Alec kissed his shoulder, his spine—fleeting, gentle touches in stark contrast to the fiery, hot-blooded aggression from only moments before.

It’s too much, he wanted to say. I can’t…

Alec was hard inside of him again, moving very, very slowly. Magnus’ mind teemed, sensory overload devouring any chance of him uttering anything other than a high-pitched whine. One more touch, one more stroke…

Alec brushed a feathery light fingertip over the head of Magnus’ cock.

Magnus’ mind exploded into a static-filled cloud of nonsense. His knees buckled. He fell forward against the wall, but Alec still had to catch him and support some of his weight as the warlock came, hard. Magnus realized he was prattling under his breath, a string of expletives and nonsensical phrases.

“Oh gods, Alec. Please. Alec, I can’t. Oh god oh god… Alec… Fuck… ” His voice raised in pitch and he couldn’t control it. The shadowhunter planted a deep, warm kiss on the side of Magnus’ neck, burying his face there. He held Magnus tightly.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” Magnus finally managed in a choked whisper. He blinked, realizing his glamour had fallen. He fought through the intense pleasure that wracked his body, shivering, and carefully gathered his concentration to hide away his glimmering golden eyes before the shadowhunter could see.

Alec was really tempted to push the warlock further over the edge, test his limits. But he obeyed. Something about Magnus whimpering his name so desperately had his heart wrapped up in ardent knots. At that exact moment, he would do anything Magnus asked of him.

If the warlock kept up his expressive mumbling and writhing, Alec would be ready for another round in no time. He did his best to simmer down, calming his breath as Magnus regained control of himself.

“Okay,” Magnus finally breathed, now standing firmly on his own two feet. He spun around gingerly and rested his face on Alec’s chest. Alec wrapped his arms around him, resting his cheek in Magnus’ soaked mess of hair. A warm glow of contentment heated his veins.

“I think,” the warlock murmured, still catching his breath, “we’re going to be late to the meeting.”

“And I still have to actually shower,” Alec laughed.

Chapter Text

Alec strolled into the meeting seven minutes late, five minutes after the High Warlock. He was still adjusting the top button of his black dress shirt when he approached the table. Izzy examined him with concern, eyes darting over his wet hair.

“Alec… you’re late. Is everything okay?” she inquired. Magnus stifled a grin and stared at the empty table in front of him to avoid losing his composure entirely.

“Define okay,” Alec answered, stealing Jace’s earlier quip as he adjusted the buttons on his sleeves. “I had to call Luke, give him a heads up about some Circle activity that might be targeting his pack. It set me a bit behind.” Magnus snorted quietly. Alec shot him a sharp glance, but underneath his warning look, a devious grin threatened to break free.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Clary asked, suddenly all business at the mention of her werewolf father figure.

What a complicated family she has, Alec mused to himself.

“Right now, the best thing we can do is focus on getting both Melusine and Valentine into Clave custody,” he stated. In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He did not have to check it to know whom the message was from. Across the table, Magnus stared down into his lap suspiciously, dimples betraying his charming attempt to maintain a serious expression.

Alec tried to resist, focusing on Izzy’s updates about forensic reports. The mission came first. He did not have time to be checking his phone every time Magnus made the smallest attempt at flirty distraction.

I am better than that, he reminded himself. His phone buzzed again. Alec repeated Izzy’s words silently in his head, desperately trying to remain focused, but they flew in one ear and out the other. Unbidden, his eyes wandered back toward Magnus. The warlock was already staring in his direction, and shot him a sly grin, eyes dropping for just a second to examine Alec’s body before sliding back upward.

Damnit, Alec bemoaned. He glanced down at the screen in his pocket while Izzy finished her update.

Magnus Bane - 09:11

Nice save there.

… but your fly is down. 😂

Alec’s eyes widened, connecting with the warlock’s. Magnus now leaned over the table, hand casually over his mouth to disguise the silent giggle that he could not contain. Izzy and Clary both watched Alec now, waiting for him to take charge of the meeting.

“Magnus,” Alec charged out loud, all seriousness. The warlock sat up straight as the girls both directed their full attention toward him. He shifted anxiously, one eyebrow raised, caught off guard.

What’s he doing? Magnus wondered in a panic, unprepared for the spotlight. With all eyes now on the warlock, Alec quickly zipped up his pants.

“Do you have an update on the spell contents found in Melusine’s hideout and the remaining components you need to wake up Jocelyn Fairchild?” Alec asked.

“Spell—yes! I do, actually,” Magnus managed, pulling his thoughts back on track. Very smooth, Alexander. “I’ll have the last ingredient for Jocelyn’s spell by the end of the week. The jars you gave me from Melusine’s contained Middlemist and Camphor wood. Camphor wood has a few different uses, but in more powerful spells, it’s commonly involved with longevity, eternal youth, or immortality.”

“And the Middlemist?” Alec pressed.

“Well, that’s the more frightening one,” Magnus held up a cautioning finger. “This species of Middlemist is exceptionally rare. As far as I know, I am the only person in this part of the world who has any of it at all. But even I only possess a few petals, and I’ve never once dared to use them. I’ve always viewed them as a bit more of a collector’s item. And I have absolutely no idea where Mellie would have obtained this much of it.”

“What’s so scary about flower petals?” Clary chimed in.

“Middlemist petals can be used to dramatically increase the power of a spell,” Magnus explained. “But the effects are often… unpredictable. Dangerous. There aren’t many known spells that call for them today. Those that do are of the dark and twisted variety.” Magnus wiggled his fingers, emphasizing the words “dark and twisted.” After a moment of thought, he added “And I’m not familiar with any spells involving both Middlemist and Camphor wood. Melusine may be experimenting with her own, new spells, or working with a text old enough that even I haven’t seen it before.”

“But why immortality?” Clary asked. “She’s a warlock, right? Isn’t she already immortal?”

Magnus shrugged. “Perhaps there’s someone else who isn’t. It’s not unheard of for warlocks to go to great lengths to save mortal lovers from the heartbreaking clutches of old age. And like this one clearly does, most such spells would require some form of sacrifice.”

Clary sighed. “Imagine being so in love with someone that you’d murder dozens of people just for the chance at having more time with them.”

In that moment, the warlock’s dark eyes drifted back to Alec. Alec’s heart froze.

What will happen to us? he asked himself. Might this be Magnus in forty years, desperately searching for a way to save him from the unforgiving laws of nature?

Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, he internally backpedaled. We’re not even really together… are we? Alec could not imagine Magnus ever going to such extreme lengths, regardless—there was too much goodness in him. But the warlock’s deep, dark gaze was filled with sadness.

What am I to you? Alec silently questioned.

“That’s not love,” Magnus answered Clary quietly. All eyes returned to him, as if everyone else present only just realized that perhaps the ancient warlock had contemplated this very dilemma before. Maybe many times.

How many loves can you lose before it breaks you? Alec wondered. Magnus, as if reading his thoughts, broke their somber eye contact and returned to his exchange with Clary. His tone bounced back to its previous informative brightness.

“However, such spells have a very unfortunate habit of turning out exceedingly poorly for all involved,” he expounded. “Warlocks who wither away to dust, leaving their now immortal lovers behind. Couples dying in each other’s arms. Similarly theatrical and regrettable outcomes. I’ve never met a single warlock who has performed such a spell successfully. Most don’t bother at all—it’s simpler for their partner to just become a vampire, if they’re willing.”

“That’s so sad,” Clary reflected.

“What about Elder?” Izzy pitched in. She produced a tiny, clear bag of what appeared to be sawdust from her pocket.

“... Elder?” Magnus’ brow furrowed, his attention now focused very singularly on Alec’s sister. “Where did you get that?”

Izzy tossed the bag across the table to the warlock.

“Well, like I said earlier, the full lab results finally came back on the body we found. Most of it matched the preliminary results as expected, but I wasn’t sure what to make of this. It was scattered near the scene, like someone spilled something. I thought maybe it was unrelated. Some mundane garbage or something.”

Magnus snatched up the evidence, glaring at it with frightening intensity. Finally, his gaze wandered around the table, still lost in dire deliberation. His eyes settled on Alec again.

“It seems I was mistaken,” he said.

“How does Elder change things?” Alec prompted softly. The weight in the warlock’s stare frightened him.

“Elder is used in spells relating to curses,” Magnus mulled, “... and demons.”

“What does that mean, Magnus?” Alec pressed, voice still quiet with caution.

“I can only speculate,” the warlock answered somberly. “But a spell like this… with the right circumstances…” he trailed off, shaking his head as he stared down at the blank, white table. He seemed to be mumbling to himself. Then something clicked and he looked up, fear evident. “She could effectively create a demon. And with this much Middlemist, and the amount of power she’s siphoning from those murders… perhaps even one strong enough to challenge the likes of greater demons—or worse.”

“That’s… insane,” Clary stuttered.

“This goes way beyond us,” Alec agreed. “We have to inform the Clave.”

The day devolved into a flurry of other meetings and a mountain of reports. If Magnus was right, the amount of volatile demonic magic that Melusine hoarded could easily rival Valentine Morgenstern’s threat in significance. Unfortunately, with Jace’s current undeserved status as a wanted criminal, the New York Institute no longer carried the weight it once did in Idris. Alec found himself struggling to be taken seriously, repeatedly accused of trying to take attention away from his parabatai. After a particularly exhausting phone call with the Inquisitor, he strolled through the main hall to see Magnus still hanging around, cornered by Izzy and Clary near a wall of scrolling monitors.

Alec started to stride toward them, but paused when Clary’s voice came into earshot.

“Really, Magnus! You can tell us,” she begged, at once pleading and teasing. Next to her, Izzy reached out and pushed Magnus’ head to the side with one well-manicured finger, revealing the black bruise that Alec had left on his neck in the shower that morning, just barely visible over his collar.

“I’ve been dying to know since I saw that hickey peeking out of your shirt in the meeting this morning. Spill the tea, Magnus,” Izzy demanded. The warlock stepped back, chuckling.

“Honestly, ladies. I’m really not the type to kiss and tell. Why are you so interested in my love life, anyways?” He crossed his arms defensively, desperately trying to brush off their questions.

“Oh come on, that is such a lie!” Clary wheedled. “You constantly brag about your exploits.”

“Yeah, and I thought you were interested in Alec,” Izzy carped, impish sass dripping from her words. “But clearly you’ve moved on. Who could possibly be more of a catch than my dashing brother?”

Magnus laughed nervously. “That is a trick question, Sweet Pea.”

“That’s not an answer,” Isabelle shot back playfully. “What mystery man caught the attention of the impossibly selective Magnus Bane?”

Magnus stared at the ceiling, shaking his head, trying to kill the stupid grin that spread across his lips.

“Or…” Izzy ventured, “... is it a woman?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Now why would you think that?” he asked evasively.

“It is, isn’t it?” Izzy exclaimed. “You’ve found a lady friend! It’s not Camille, is it?” Both girls wrinkled their noses.

“What? No!” Magnus protested, more horrified than the both of them at the suggestion. “I would never willingly have anything to do with that hellion.” He shook his head a little too over-enthusiastically, and Clary gasped, spotting something on the other side of his neck.

“Oh my god, Magnus!” she roared. She fluttered beside him like a curious bee, reaching back to tug down his collar on the opposite side of the hickey. A crisp, purple set of teeth marks stood out against his tawny skin. “Is this a bite mark?!”

Magnus shied away, pulling the collar back up to cover the bruise. His eyes flitted over Alec across the room, just noticing him, and he shot the shadowhunter a sheepish smile.

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus insisted to the girls, his typical charm cranked up to full power. “Really, can’t a man have some secrets?”

“Since when are you bashful?” Izzy giggled. “Is it because it’s someone we know?”

“No!” Magnus blurted. “I mean, yes. I mean, that’s not really a factor.”

Alec chuckled quietly to himself, unexpected blitheness dancing through his heart at how adorably frazzled the warlock was.

“Whoever she is, she’s really bad,” Clary cackled. “That’s one nasty bite mark.”

“My kind of bad,” Izzy agreed, snickering. “But even I don’t usually mess with that particular flavor of naughty.”

Alec blushed, warm redness creeping up his neck to flush his ears and cheeks. Was he really that dirty? He hadn’t meant to leave such dark marks on Magnus’ body. It just… happened. Though he had to admit, catching glimpses of the love marks from across the room sent his heart into a series of pleased somersaults.

“Definitely not a vampire though,” Izzy observed, taking her turn to peek at Magnus’ bite mark, despite his resistance. “I guess you’ve had your fill of them after Camille,” she teased. Magnus rolled his eyes.

“Listen, ladies,” he pleaded. “As much as I’d love to stick around and see what other very creative speculations you’d like to make about my love life, I really do have places to be.” He slipped between them, beelining for the door.

“Going to see your mysterious secret lover?” Izzy called after him, still tittering. “Tell her I’d like to meet her!”

Magnus shot Alec one quick, exasperated look, punctuated by a captivatingly sweet smile. Alec grinned back—a toasty, satisfied pride welling up in his chest.

Poor Izzy is going to be so pissed when she finds out.

Magnus darted through the doors and disappeared, and Alec’s smile faded to a more neutral, thoughtful expression as he mulled over the events of the day. Izzy’s eyes followed Magnus’ final glance, landing on Alec just fractions of a second after his smile vanished. 

Clary’s eyes followed Izzy’s. Realizing Alec had been watching them tease the warlock, her delicate hand flew up to her mouth. After a quick, panicked moment of eye contact with Izzy, the redhead scampered away, leaving Izzy to do damage control with her brother.

“Oh my gosh, Alec.” Izzy scurried over to him, amusement replaced with concerned sympathy. “I am so sorry, I had no idea you were standing there.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he responded. “Why would I care?”

“Well, I just, I know you had a thing for Magnus. We shouldn’t have been so insensitive.”

“I really don’t care,” Alec maintained. For once, he was grateful for the ‘resting grumpy face’ that Izzy so loved to tease him about. “Magnus is an adult. Many times over. He can do what he wants.”

And what he wants is me, a proud little voice in his mind declared smugly. A grin threatened to betray him, but he fought it away, sucking his lips inward. Izzy frowned, thinking he was fighting off more painful emotions, and placed a comforting arm on his shoulder.

“You can talk to me, you know,” she said in a low voice. “I know how hard it is to watch someone you have feelings for move on to someone else. Believe it or not, it’s happened to me a few times, too. If it makes you feel better, that bitch seems crazy. Who leaves bite marks that obvious? That’s some kinky, possessive shit.”

Alec shook his head. He almost felt ashamed for the evil exhilaration that flooded his veins. She has no idea she’s talking about me.

“I wouldn’t really know about… kinky… stuff,” he commented haltingly, struggling to keep his voice even.

“I’m just making things worse, aren’t I?” Izzy grimaced.

Alec shrugged. “I told you, Iz. I don’t care.”

Afraid of losing his composure and devolving into childish giggles, Alec spun on his heel and strode away. As he turned the corner away from Izzy’s apologetic gaze, the grin he had been struggling to hold back finally broke free.

Bad, am I?

Chapter Text

“So what exactly is going on with this spell you have to use to wake Jocelyn up?” Alec asked. The cloud of vapor spilling from between his lips muffled his voice, lowering its pitch. “Is it going to be difficult? Will you be okay?”

The vaporizer pen in his hand was Magnus’—a sleek, metallic model with iridescent rainbow colors across the body. Alec found it entirely too ostentatious for his tastes, but he accepted it gracefully when Magnus passed it to him, not one to turn up his nose at the warlock’s generosity. From what he understood, the cartridge they were smoking from had not been cheap, likely in no small part due to THC products still being entirely illegal under mundane law.

Magnus found the odd difference in the timbre of Alec’s voice to be strangely pleasant, and took his own turn inhaling deeply before responding, achieving the same muted, low-pitched vocal tone. He dismissed Alec’s questions with a flutter of his ring-clad fingers.

“I appreciate your concern, Alexander. But I refuse to speak of work right now. And you’re not allowed to, either.”

They sat in Magnus’ apartment, staring out at the gleaming nighttime lights of New York City. Cars crept along the roadways, little red and white dots marching in rows like tiny, glowing ants.

Work, Alec thought. The idea of separating work from other parts of his life baffled him. There were honestly not many other parts of his life to be separated. A sliver of panic wriggled its way into Alec’s chest.

I’m boring, he realized. Without shadowhunter business, I don’t have anything to talk about. He had not even originally wanted to come over tonight, too focused on the latest information in their case. There was always so much to do, so many responsibilities. How could he justify abandoning them to dabble in recreational substances with a warlock of questionable morals? Yet here he was, grasping for something to say unrelated to his job, already vaguely aware of the effects of the drug creeping into the corners of his mind.

“I noticed the Institute has vastly upgraded its coffee selections,” Magnus noted, drawing Alec out of his self-deprecating spiral and back into the present moment. “I assume I have Clary to thank for that? That girl loves a good latte, though I’m more of a cha phe sua da man myself. Too bad you don’t have that at the Institute.”

The warlock leaned back against the side of the sofa, facing Alec with his legs crossed. Alec occupied most of the real estate, long legs spread as he slouched. Vapor swirled in the air between them.

“I’m sure we could stock condensed milk in the mini-fridge,” Alec commented. “We already keep soy, almond, and oat milk, because apparently one variety isn’t enough for Clary and my sister. One more won’t be an issue.”

Magnus tilted his head, taken aback by Alec’s quick response. Usually he enjoyed sprinkling unfamiliar terms into their conversations, sneakily introducing Alec to tastes that the conscientious shadowhunter otherwise would not encounter. But this time, he was the one left with questions.

“Since when do you actually know anything about coffee?” Magnus puzzled. “Especially of the Vietnamese variety?”

Alec shrugged.

“Always, I guess? I’m the one who got us decent espresso, not Clary. Her contribution was the sugary stuff.” He frowned when he mentioned Clary’s assortment of syrups. He did not much care for diluting his coffee with sugar.

“Hey, that sugary stuff isn’t so bad,” Magnus contended. “There are plenty of wonderful sweet coffee beverages in the world.”

Alec shook his head before Magnus even finished his sentence, piping up as soon as the warlock ceased talking.

“No. No way. The only reason to put sugar or milk or anything else into coffee is to disguise the fact that your coffee is terrible. Some people have no standards.”

Silence hung in the air between them, Magnus watching Alec in surprised silence. Alec shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he had said something wrong. Had he sounded angry? Everyone always said that. Alec worried he had somehow offended Magnus. Until, finally, the warlock burst into laughter.

Alec’s frown deepened.

“What?” he asked defensively. “What did I say?”

“No, nothing,” Magnus rubbed underneath one of his eyes. “You just… right there, you sounded exactly like me.” Magnus shifted his weight, releasing his leg from underneath him and massaging the pins and needles out of it.

“What?! You and I are nothing alike,” Alec protested. He lifted his arms and tilted his head, indicating for Magnus to stretch out. The warlock raised an eyebrow—not expecting the silent invitation—but acquiesced, extending his legs across Alec’s lap. Alec rested his arms back down, rubbing his fingers in tiny, absent-minded circles over the same foot Magnus had been massaging. The warlock’s fuzzy white house socks brushed softly across the tips of Alec’s fingers.

“I have half a mind to be offended by your outrage,” Magnus said.

“But we’re not,” Alec insisted. “That’s just a fact. We’re polar opposites.”

“If you say so,” Magnus answered, watching Alec’s hands with amused fascination. “That actually feels a lot better,” he added. “You’re very good at that.”

“I know,” Alec said. “Have you seen the heels that Izzy wears? She’d rather be cute than practical. When she first started going on missions, this sort of thing became a regular evening occurrence after our mother forbade her from using her iratze as a crutch to fuel her ambitious wardrobe choices. Mother thought it would teach Izzy to dress more appropriately, but it had the opposite effect. She doubled down, determined to prove that she could be a successful shadowhunter without bending to the will of our parents.”

Alec smiled, thinking of Izzy’s spunky, determined younger self. She had not changed much in the years since, always blazing her own path.

“And you, of all people, helped her,” Magnus grinned. He let out a contented sigh as Alec increased the pressure, and then moved to the other foot, carefully stretching out Magnus’ arches.

“I have never encouraged Izzy’s fooling around,” Alec disagreed. He reached for the vape, which sat ignored between them. The room appeared brighter as his eyes scanned over it, as if every color had become slightly more saturated while his attention had been focused downward.

“But you support her regardless,” Magnus pointed out. He looked so content, so happy. It made Alec happy. How could he even have considered not spending this evening with Magnus? Everything felt right.

“Of course,” Alec said. “She’s my sister. I care about her. I’d do anything for her. I will always stand behind the people I care about.” Alec felt like he had been talking a lot. He usually retreated to more of a listening role in all of his personal relationships. He brought the vape to his lips, using a slow, deep inhale as an excuse to return to his comfortable default of silence.

The warlock looked so cozy, lying back on the sofa with his feet propped up on Alec’s lap, covered warmly in fuzzy socks. Alec imagined them in the same arrangement come winter, lounging by a fireplace, Magnus holding a mug of hot cocoa. It made his chest hurt in a strange, unfamiliar way.

Magnus, however, was for once more comfortable in the silence than Alec was. He examined Alec, his expression unreadable as he took a turn with the vape, sending a few rippling smoke rings drifting in the shadowhunter’s direction. Alec experienced difficulty maintaining eye contact, overwhelmed by the intensity of the warlock’s gaze. He looked back down to his lap, focusing on the tension in Magnus’ feet.

Is it weird if I move closer to him? Alec mused. I know that’s a thing that people do. But would it be weird at this moment? Alec was very aware of the present, like every breath seemed more immediate than usual. He was losing his understanding of what was and was not acceptable behavior. He did not like feeling this uncertain.

Alec found himself staring back out the window, lost in the way the city seemed to move like a unified, breathing organism.

“You look very pensive,” Magnus observed. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Alec said quickly. If Magnus discovered how completely socially incompetent Alec was, the shadowhunter would crawl into a hole and die.

“Oh, come on,” Magnus liberated his legs from Alec’s lap and scooted down the sofa to sit right next to him, their thighs pressed tightly together. He wove the fingers of his left hand through Alec’s. Alec gazed down at their interlocked limbs, encircling Magnus’ hand with both of his. He leaned into him.

“It’s not fun getting you high if you don’t share all of the crazy, completely absurd thoughts that float through that adorable head of yours,” Magnus pressed. He reached up an index finger to tap Alec on the nose. Alec swatted his hand away.

“I’m not adorable,” he objected.

“You are, but that argument is beside the point,” Magnus said. “Please, share with me.”

“Fine,” Alec said. His heart hammered. Honesty is better, right? He thought. It’s not a bad thing to want to be near someone. His brain settled, pulse relaxing as his awareness grew of Magnus’ body wedged comfortably against his.

“I was just thinking that I wanted to be nearer to you. And I was wondering if that was weird. But then you moved over here, like you read my mind.”

A breathtaking smile stretched across Magnus’ face. “Of course it’s not weird. I want to be near you, too.”

Alec moved the hand that wasn’t completely intertwined with Magnus’ to trace around the back of his hand and over his wrist. Magnus wiggled further toward Alec, somehow ending up on the shadowhunter’s lap.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” Alec said, arms easily encircling Magnus’ waist. “It just makes me happy. Like feeling your weight next to mine makes everything okay, even when it’s not.” He leaned his cheek against Magnus’ shoulder. The warlock’s fresh, earthy scent washed over him.

Magnus leaned into Alec, catching him in a tight hug. Alec inhaled deeply, momentarily lost in that smell—what was it? His soap? His deodorant? Alec did not know. But he realized that whenever he could smell that scent, he was happy. He exhaled contentedly, relishing the weight of Magnus’ body on his. He fell slowly to the side, taking both of them down to splay across the sofa, Magnus’ head resting on his chest, the weight of it there perfect and wonderful. Alec’s heart sang.

“I like your fuzzy socks,” Alec mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel Magnus’ quiet laughter on top of him, shaking his whole body.

“Do you want a pair?” Magnus giggled. The plush fabric over the warlock’s toes wiggled against Alec’s ankles. Alec considered for only a second before answering.

“… Yes,” he said resolutely.

“You’re very, very high, aren’t you?” Magnus asked, his voice rumbling against Alec’s sternum.

“I really am,” Alec sighed.

Chapter Text

The first thing Alec noticed as he faded into consciousness was satin. The fabric slid coolly against his face, strange to wake up to after a lifetime of the Institute’s standard cotton. The second thing he noticed was Magnus’ warm skin against his. Also strange, but way more delightful. The warlock faced away from Alec, snuggled into him tightly. Alec’s arm rested around his naked waist.

Alec opened his eyes, pupils contracting to adjust to the pale early morning sunlight. The honey-gold sheets shimmered when he moved, reflecting the rising sun in muted, warm tones that scattered across the thin blanket’s crumpled surface. He felt pleasantly rested—not a description he would ever normally use for himself. Inches in front of him, the back of Magnus’ bare neck and shoulder blocked his view of the night stand, and the time. 

The bruises from their recent shower excursion still stood out dark against the warlock’s neck, joined by a few smaller, subtler new ones. Alec could already feel a few of his own rising to the surface of his skin in less visible places—an ache over his ribs, a soreness on the inside of his thigh. He made a conscious decision not to activate his iratze. He liked the idea of walking around with little reminders of Magnus all over his body, straying his thoughts whenever he moved.

Alec rested his lips against Magnus' shoulder blade, inhaling deeply. In Magnus’ bed, with the man himself in his arms, Alec was completely cocooned in a comforting cloud of his favorite scent.

I wonder why he hasn’t healed his own bruises yet? Alec contemplated. A quick thrill coursed through him as he considered that maybe, like him, the warlock enjoyed them.

Very bad—the both of us. Alec recalled Izzy and Clary’s words with devious pride.

“Hmmm,” Magnus sighed. Alec squeezed him, burying his face in the crook of Magnus’ shoulder. The warlock twisted around, rolling to face Alec and adjusting into a new position. He scooted ungracefully back inward, enveloping himself in Alec’s arms. His tousled hair tickled the tip of Alec’s nose. With his arms wrapped securely around the warlock, Alec felt complete. He could lie like this forever.

As content as they were to snuggle indefinitely, it did not take long for the caresses and sighs to devolve into kisses and moans. A spark of excitement kindled in Alec’s chest when Magnus rolled on top of him. He would never get sick of this feeling, the way the warlock gazed into his eyes with such need and desire. He wanted nothing more than to wake up to this every morning.

It’s cute how much he enjoys me on top of him, Magnus thought, noticing the way the shadowhunter bit his lip to stifle an eager smile. Magnus brought his own lips down to meet Alec’s, hips grinding against him. He cherished the way Alec stared up at him, like he was all the shadowhunter needed. He scraped his teeth along Alec’s neck, eliciting a sharp inhale. Alec’s grip on his hips tightened, deliciously firm. Though he had many qualms about this level of intimacy with a nephilim, Magnus had to admit that Alec’s shadowhunter strength was pretty hot.

Hey buddy, you there?

“Jace!” Alec gasped.

“Jace?” Magnus sat up, abandoning their kiss for a surprised, vexed glare. After a moment of shocked silence for the both of them as Alec processed the misunderstanding, he found his voice again. “Really, Alexander? I thought you were past that.”

“No!” Alec held up a finger, shoving Magnus off of him as gently and carefully as he could. “No no no. Just hold on one second, Magnus. Okay? One second.” Alec was babbling, face flushed scarlet. He grabbed his pants off the floor, pulling them on despite his parabatai’s inability to see anything through the Seelie ring without Alec’s specific allowance. Speaking to Jace while naked in bed with Magnus just felt wrong in so many ways.

“No need to ask me twice,” the warlock grumbled. “The mood has been suitably killed. I honestly don’t know whether to be more embarrassed for you or for myself.”

“Magnus!” Alec exclaimed. Magnus glowered in the opposite direction. Alec activated his Seelie ring.

Jace, I’m here.

Everything okay? Jace asked, hearing the panic through Alec’s thoughts.

I should be the one asking you that. What’s going on?

Jace fell immediately to business. Valentine is planning an attack on the Institute.

Magnus swung his legs from the bed, following Alec’s lead in donning pants. He chucked Alec’s shirt grumpily in his direction.

Jace, hold on just a second please? Alec deactivated the ring, tossing his shirt back on Magnus’ bed.

“Magnus, for the Angel’s sake, will you look at me? I was not thinking about Jace.”

The warlock rolled his eyes, marching out of the room.

Hold on a second? Alec, what’s going on? Are you not listening to me? Valentine is going to attack the Institute!

Alec darted after Magnus, grabbing his arm. The warlock turned on him, eyes shooting daggers. Alec held up his hand, displaying the un-glamoured Seelie ring and pointing to it.

“The ring, you crazy warlock!”

Magnus froze.

“... Jace is calling to you? Now?”

“Yes, Magnus!” Alec, are you there?! “Magnus, just hold on, one second.”

Alec reactivated his ring.

“Yes, Jace, I’m here,” Alec said accidentally aloud. Verbal communication seemed to work just as well, with Jace responding immediately.

Are you done with whatever is more important than Valentine potentially destroying the Institute?

Alec rolled with his new discovery, continuing the conversation out loud for Magnus’ benefit. “Yes, Jace. Can we please skip the passive aggression? What’s his plan?”

I don’t know, but it’s happening some time over the next few days. He doesn’t trust me enough yet. He’s searched me for the ring several times and I’ve kept it hidden, but I think he knows I have it.

“Of course he does, Jace. He’s psychotic, not stupid. See if you can get any more details for me. I’ll increase security and patrols.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow, listening intently to Alec’s half of the exchange. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, trying to make sense of the snippets.

I’ll keep trying, Jace confirmed.

“And Jace,” Alec added, “If you haven’t made headway by next week, we’re pulling you out.”

What? No! Alec, you can’t do that.

Magnus drifted around his apartment, shuffling through cabinets. He set two glass mugs on the countertop. The next cabinet he opened was packed, bottom to top, with tea tins. Now Alec watched curiously, trying to make sense of how anyone could need an entire cabinet of tea.

“Yes,” Alec said, “I can. And I will. You’ve spent too long there already. There’s no point in keeping you there if Valentine doesn’t trust you anyways. We’ll find another way.”

Damnit, Alec. I have to go. We’re talking about this later.

“Yes, we certainly are.”

As Alec deactivated his ring, Magnus handed him a steaming cup of warm-colored tea retrieved from a tin labeled rooibos. Alec peered behind him at the cabinet.

“Is that an entire cabinet of tea?” Alec asked, sipping from his mug.

“Of course,” Magnus answered. “I’m not a savage.”

Alec wrinkled his nose. “This is caffeine free.”

“It’s herbal,” Magnus pointed out, as if that was somehow supposed to change Alec's opinion. He waved a hand dismissively, turning away to stash the tea tin back in the cabinet. It snapped closed with a swirl of Magnus’ azure magic. As soon as the warlock’s attention diverted, Alec placed his cup delicately on the counter.

“I have to go,” he said. “Important intel. Valentine is plotting something.”

“I figured,” Magnus replied with a mock huff. “You know, it’s pretty hot when you get all authoritative. I like seeing you in your shadowhunter mode.” He emphasized the last two words, using a deep voice to mimic Alec. Alec rolled his eyes.

Magnus followed Alec back to the bedroom, watching covetously as the shadowhunter slid his shirt over his head, hiding away his perfectly sculpted abs. It was a true tragedy.

“Listen,” Magnus placed a hand on Alec’s arm as he stepped toward the door, pausing Alec in his tracks. “I’m sorry for being a ‘crazy warlock.’ I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”

Alec turned to face him, dropping his hands lightly on Magnus’ shoulders and planting an adoring kiss on his forehead.

“You’re not crazy, Magnus. And I like all of you, including your more magical side. You should never feel the need to apologize for any of that, especially not to me.” He paused, letting that statement sink in. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his heart, Alec wondered again what Magnus’ warlock mark looked like, and if he would ever be trusted to see it. He brushed the thought away quickly.

I have no right.

“I can see how, out of context, that was probably very upsetting for you,” Alec continued. “I’m the one who should apologize for not being a bit clearer in the moment. I was caught completely off guard. That doesn’t happen very often.”

Magnus leaned his head onto Alec’s chest, wrapping his shadowhunter in a warm farewell hug. “That’s not your fault,” he chuckled. “I would have been completely flummoxed in your situation.”

“Besides,” Alec grinned. “You’re very cute when you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?!” Magnus scoffed. “Me? No. I don’t get jealous.” He dropped the hug, spinning to march back into the living room. Alec caught his hand, pulling him back in.

“I’ve never gotten jealous,” Magnus insisted, only making a show of resisting Alec’s gentle tug.

“Okay.” Alec pursed his lips, struggling to contain his satisfied smile. “If you say so.”

“Young man, don’t you give me that—” Magnus’ indignant words were muffled by Alec’s lips on his. They shuffled together toward the wall, Magnus’ back pressed against it. Alec held him there, his weight pinning the warlock in place, one hand cupping his face. Magnus moaned softly, and they broke apart for air, both breathing harder.

“Okay,” Magnus admitted. “Maybe I should get jealous more often.” He flexed against Alec’s strength, desire coursing through him when he found himself unable to budge.

“There is absolutely no reason for you to ever be jealous,” Alec murmured. He ran a feather-light finger along Magnus’ hairline and down his face, pausing to trace his lips. “Who could even compare?”

Magnus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He could not tear his eyes away from Alec’s, lost staring up into the quiet, resolute affection he saw there. The intensity both frightened and excited him.

“I have to go,” Alec whispered. “It’s a long drive back to the Institute. What time are you coming by for Jocelyn?” He played with Magnus’ fingers as he spoke, not breaking eye contact. Magnus wondered if Alec knew just how unbearably seductive he was being.

That’s part of what makes him so sexy, the warlock realized. He’s not trying to be. He’s just so… pure.

“Three,” Magnus answered quietly, voice faltering. “Have her ready in the training room. We’ll need the space. It’s a big spell.”

“Ok,” Alec responded. He kissed Magnus one more time, short and sweet. “I’ll see you then.”

~

Luke Garroway carried Jocelyn gingerly to the table Alec had set up in the center of the training room. She seemed peaceful, lost in deep sleep, like she might open her eyes at any second and wonder why so many people stood circled around her.

That’s almost exactly what’s going to happen, Alec reflected.

Clary held tightly to her mother’s hand. A pang of sympathy tugged at Alec’s heart for the girl—an increasingly common event. In the past few months, Clary Fray had lost everything. She had become Clary Fairchild, and then Clary Morgenstern, though she still bristled every time anyone used that name. She had her mother torn away from her, then her entire life. She fell in love with Jace, then had that torn away as well. All things considered, Clary was handling things relatively gracefully. Alec might not like her, but he could at least respect her effort. She did her best to keep up, to train, to stay in control. And despite her very Jace-like recklessness, she would do anything for the people she loved, supporting them with undying loyalty. Alec could identify with that part, though unlike the very social, extroverted Morgenstern girl, very few people held such a place in his heart.

Izzy, he thought. And Jace.

Magnus Bane swept into the room, interrupting Alec’s musings.

“Everything ready?” he asked, eyes darting around and picking out the components the Institute had prepared. “Good.” His eyes landed on Alec, and they shared a private, secret moment, both of them exchanging almost imperceptible smiles. Without a beat, his attention returned to Jocelyn.

Him too, Alec thought unexpectedly. His heart stuttered.

“Are you ready?” Magnus asked Clary. Clary looked to Luke, then to Izzy. Her eyes fell on Alec last. He nodded, hoping the gesture would be taken as somewhat encouraging.

“Let’s do this,” she said.

Magnus opened the Book of the White to the marked page, scanning the script. Then he began chanting. Alec did not recognize the language. It didn’t sound Demonic.

Power rippled across the room from Magnus’ hands. Alec felt it in his ribs, like a shock wave. The air grew thick and heavy. Beads of sweat dripped down Magnus’ forehead.

Something’s wrong, Alec realized. Magnus was struggling. No one seemed to notice. Alec hesitated, waiting for anyone else to acknowledge Magnus’ floundering. But all of the others remained focused on Jocelyn. Magnus stared down at her too, brow furrowing as his hands began to tremble.

That was Alec’s breaking point. He dashed around the table. His first instinct was to hold the warlock—to wrap his arms around him, protect him, support him. But the surprised looks sent his way from all three of the others stopped him in his tracks. Instead, he leaned down and spoke in Magnus’ ear urgently, leaving a very publicly acceptable amount of space between them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Someone’s trying to portal,” Magnus answered through gritted teeth.

“Who?” Alec asked, panic rising.

“It feels like… everyone!” the warlock gasped. “I can’t stop this spell now that it’s started. It’s too strong. I can’t maintain both.” He swayed. Alec caught him. Too focused on Magnus’ exhaustion now to care, Alec grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers.

“Use me,” Alec commanded. He looked up, eyes meeting Luke’s. “Like you did for him.”

“Alec, I don’t know if—” Magnus started, voice feeble.

“No arguing,” Alec cut him off. “Do it. Now.” His eyes found Clary’s, which were wide and scared. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her.

Magnus’ loose grip on Alec’s hand tightened. The connection between them locked into place, clearer and stronger than the first time. Alec sensed himself tiring, felt the energy flowing from himself to the warlock.

He’s so weak, Alec fretted. He needs to take more. He wished he could control what Magnus took from him, pour more of himself into the spell.

Take it! he silently begged, Please!

Weakness swept disorientingly through Alec’s body. His knees quivered.

“Alexander, what are you doing?” Magnus cried. They both collapsed, magic still surging from the warlock’s fingertips, swirling around Jocelyn Fairchild’s disconcertingly tranquil form. And then there was silence.

“Stupid boy!” Magnus’ voice faded into Alec’s awareness. “You stupid, reckless boy! What were you thinking?” The familiar, tender warmth of Magnus’ hand on his cheek brought Alec back to the present.

“Reckless?” he groaned, wrenching his eyes open. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Oh, Alec!” The full brunt of Izzy’s weight knocked his breath away.

“I was thinking,” he croaked, shooting Magnus a crooked smile, “that I was saving your ass.” The warlock looked worse for wear, sweat glistening through his racooned eyeliner.

“You could have died,” Magnus snapped, worry contorting his features. He almost looked like he might be about to cry, but the smeared makeup and sheen of sweat made it impossible to tell. “Letting a warlock channel you is a passive activity, Alexander. Throwing your energy at someone like that is dangerous.”

“But I didn’t die,” Alec countered, patting Izzy’s back. He looked down at his sister. “It’s okay, Iz.”

“Never do that again!” Izzy demanded, finally allowing Alec to sit up. He was grateful for the thin layer of padding on the training room floor, though his back and shoulders still ached from hitting the ground.

“Did we at least hold the spell?” Alec asked. He leaned forward, giving Izzy space to lift his shirt and activate his iratze. For a brief moment, he mourned the loss of his first set of love marks, gone so soon after he got them.

“The portal block is broken,” Magnus lamented. “At least a dozen portals opened up at once all across the city. Melusine has help from other warlocks—strong ones.”

Damn.

“And Jocelyn?” Alec questioned. His eyes fell on the table above him. It appeared empty from his perspective. He returned his gaze to Magnus, searching the warlock’s dour expression for answers.

“Thanks to your foolhardy lunacy,” Magnus griped, clearly unwilling to encourage any future repeats of Alec’s behavior, “she’s good as new.”

He shifted aside, clearing Alec’s field of view to reveal Jocelyn Fairchild, wrapped safely in Luke’s arms. The werewolf buried his face in Jocelyn’s hair, shoulders shaking as he cried. Clary stood behind them, one hand on Jocelyn’s arm, tears streaming down her face. She clearly had already gotten her reunion, and waited as patiently as possible for Luke’s to conclude, unwilling to spend even a second away from her mom. From across the room, her red, watery eyes found Alec and Magnus.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, gaze shifting between the exhausted men. Her voice cracked. “Thank you so much.”

Chapter Text

Magnus sat up half way as Alec handed him a glass of water. The guest bedroom he had been offered was grander than Alec’s, with a King bed and thick comforter that reminded Magnus somewhat of his own room at home. It seemed strange that the guest rooms at the Institute would be so much more lavish than the one for the Institute’s leader. Magnus wondered if Alec did that on purpose, or if he just did not care.

“This is unnecessary,” Magnus griped, accepting the water and taking a few huge gulps. His hand shook slightly. He had not realized quite how parched he was. Alec took the empty glass from him and immediately refilled it from a pitcher on the bedside table, handing it back.

“Right, because you’re completely fit to return home by yourself when you can barely walk,” Alec shot back. “Magnus, I could feel you when you channeled me—I know how exhausted you are. I’m not letting you go anywhere by yourself until you’ve at least had something to eat and then slept it off for a little while.”

“I’m not the one who passed out,” Magnus grumbled.

“You’re also not the one with an iratze,” Alec retorted. “And I’m assuming you can’t use magic to fix exhaustion from using too much magic.”

“...that would be a fair assumption,” Magnus huffed. “But an iratze can’t fix magical exhaustion either—you may feel fine now physically, but you need to take it easy for a few days, too.”

“And I will,” Alec promised, “once I know that you’re going to be okay. Fair?”

Magnus could not say no to the genuine, adorable smile Alec flashed him. And, though he hated to admit it, Alec was right. Magnus could barely walk, let alone make the drive home.

Or portal, he thought. Nothing stopping us from using portals, now.

“Isn’t it a bit excessive that you’re in here taking care of me instead of dealing with other urgent matters at hand?” Magnus glanced toward the closed door. “We need to talk to Jocelyn, and figure out who helped Mellie, and where Mellie went.”

Alec sat on the bed, leaning on his folded hands as he contemplated his answer. When he spoke, he did so with a hesitance that sparked Magnus’ curiosity—he had not thought his question to be a particularly challenging one.

“Clary is busy with her mother,” Alec answered carefully. “Izzy is talking to them, getting what information she can from Jocelyn. She’s better at that stuff than I am. So that leaves me to make sure you’re okay. We can deal with the Melusine stuff once you’re feeling more… spritely.”

Magnus stifled a grin at the subtle dig to his age.

“I prefer the word spirited,” he bantered, “or maybe frisky.” He ran a wandering hand up Alec’s leg. The look of sheer horror the shadowhunter shot him, daring to flirt while in such a pathetic, tired state, sent Magnus into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, but why only you three?” Magnus puzzled, pulling himself together. He sat up fully now, crossing his legs. Alec frowned at this effort. Magnus ignored it, hating how much effort it did actually take. “Honestly, why does anyone have to stay with me? I’m fine.”

“Well…” Alec trailed. He stared at the floor, choosing his words carefully. “Firstly, you’re not fine, and I’d rather you not die in the middle of my Institute. And secondly… not many shadowhunters would volunteer for this sort of guard duty. I could assign someone, but…“ Alec waved his hand vaguely in the air, as if to follow the end his sentence as it floated invisibly around him and drifted away.

Understanding dawned on Magnus.

“You’re worried about how another shadowhunter would treat me,” the warlock finished, “because I’m a downworlder.”

Alec nodded, sucking in his lips. He avoided Magnus’ eyes, keeping his own aimed straight downward. Magnus reached out, fingers brushing against Alec’s cheek, and firmly turned the shadowhunter’s head to face him. He held his chin there, staring unwaveringly until Alec met his gaze. He maintained firm eye contact, driving his point home.

“Alexander, I’m over 300 years old. I was around when there were no Accords at all, no civil recourse for protecting downworlders like me from the wrath of angry shadowhunters—and I promise, back then, they were a lot angrier.”

Magnus sometimes forgot himself how shadowhunters used to be, how they could still get, when men like Valentine were allowed to run free. He might be a downworlder, but his magic was powerful enough to shelter him from most of the negative aspects of that label. In the long course of his life, he rarely if ever needed to interact with shadowhunters at all. When he did, they treated him with respect and caution because they needed his help with something. Most people who mistreated Magnus Bane in any way—nephilim, downworlder, and mundane alike—learned to regret that decision.

But Magnus still remembered how awful it could be.

“Magic used to be forbidden by the Clave, you know. That’s not something I learned in a book. It’s something I lived through,” the warlock ruminated. “Sometimes I remember that things like that are ancient history to you, and it confounds me.”

Alec opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. He mulled over Magnus’ words. Finally, he reached up and pulled Magnus’ hand off of his face, wrapping it in the warmth between his palms.

“Just because you’ve been through worse in the past doesn’t mean you shouldn't be treated with respect now,” he said decisively. “Besides, I want to be here myself anyways. After Camille’s apartment…”

Magnus smiled at Alec’s protective fretting. The shadowhunter’s honest thoughtfulness tugged at his heartstrings.

“You can’t protect me from everything, Alexander,” he chortled. Then he tilted his head, tone changing. “Speaking of which, we need to discuss what you did earlier. That was completely unacceptable.”

“Magnus,” Alec tried to interrupt, exasperation apparent.

“No,” Magnus cut in. “You have to promise me you’ll never do that again. I mean it, Alexander. It was reckless.” Magnus imagined the young shadowhunter as he had been moments after the spell completed, crumbling to the floor like a lifeless puppet. Alec had too much life left to live to risk it so carelessly.

Alec shook his head, squeezing Magnus’ hand tighter between his.

“I… can’t promise that,” he said. “If you need me—”

“You can’t come running every time I might be in danger,” Magnus laughed. The sound was fond and affectionate, but tinged with a hint of frustration. “I know that my close call at the Alucard scared you, but that’s over, in the past. I cannot let you throw your life away trying to protect mine.”

“I don’t see how that qualifies as ‘throwing my life away,’” Alec protested, voice raising slightly. “I’m a shadowhunter, Magnus. Protecting people is what I do.”

Silence fell between them. Magnus’ expression changed, growing more distant. When he spoke again, his voice carried a hardness that he rarely used toward Alec.

“You have to see it from my perspective,” Magnus pressed, now quieter. “I’ve lived for hundreds of years. I’ve loved many people before you. And as much as I hate to think about it right now, I will likely love many people after you. It’s not right for you to risk cutting your life short for me. You already have so little of it left. I don’t want to steal that from you.”

Magnus could tell he hit a nerve by the pained expression that flashed across Alec’s face. The shadowhunter quickly buried it. He rested his hand on the warlock’s knee, digging silently around inside himself for the right words. It was better this way, Magnus thought. Ripping the truth out quickly, like an old bandage. Getting it over with. Better for them both if Alec broke it off early on, before either of them got too invested.

“I’ve thought about what that means for us—me being mortal, you living forever,” Alec faltered. “If you want my honest view on it…” He struggled to complete the sentence, biting his lip to fight back the surge of emotion that burned behind his eyes.

You already have so little of it left.

“... it terrifies me,” Alec admitted.

With that statement out of the way, the rest poured out.

“I don’t know what to do. It hurts, knowing that a relationship with you would mean that I could dedicate my entire life to you and still be just like a speck of dust in the vast universe of your existence. It hurts to feel like in the long run, I might not matter.”

The admission took Magnus by surprise. He had not realized Alec had put much consideration yet into their life spans. He always figured that realization might be the end of it for them, when the serious, traditional shadowhunter faced the fact that he was only one of many—a long line of dead lovers that slipped through Magnus’ immortal fingers.

Maybe Magnus had underestimated Alec’s proclivity for brooding—the shadowhunter wasn’t just sulking all the time when he lurked on the edges of conversations. He wasn’t ignoring his peers. He was thinking.

Alec took his stunned silence as permission to continue.

“I don’t know how I can compare to centuries of relationships—across genders, across species. But I do know that I care about you, and I do whatever I can to protect the people I care about. It doesn’t matter how many countless years you’ve lived—you deserve to live countless more. And I intend to make sure of that, while I’m around.”

When he finished, Alec’s voice was thick with emotion, but so quiet that Magnus could barely discern the words. The warlock leaned forward, pulling his knees up and resting his forehead on them. He couldn’t breathe. What did he do to deserve this? How had such a perfect man found his way into Magnus’ life?

Unbidden, a few determined tears squeezed their way out from behind his eyes. Why was letting someone care for him so difficult? He imagined the lost, empty feeling awaiting his heart in only half a century or so, if he was lucky—one that could be avoided if he only kept Alec at just a little bit more of a distance from himself.

“That’s not fair to you, Alec. I can’t ask that of you.” He hoped the muffle of his voice between his knees would disguise the burning in his throat, but an unbidden sniffle betrayed him.

“Magnus,” Alec’s voice caught. He had never seen the warlock cry, and he didn’t know what to do. He remembered what it felt like to stay up for days with little sleep, how his emotions seized control of his actions. He realized Magnus must be feeling the same way, exhausted by the impressive amounts of magic he burned through.

Now is not the time for this conversation, Alec decided. The burning in his own throat threatened to spill into his voice, but he contained it. He scooted closer to Magnus, inching around him so he could rest both hands on his shoulders from behind. He rested his chin on his right hand, mouth moving next to Magnus’ ear in a soothing whisper.

“You didn’t ask it of me,” he assured the tired warlock, squeezing his shoulders gently. “And we can fight about it later, if you want. But for now, you need to sleep.”

Alec pulled Magnus down onto the bed with him, wrapping a protective arm around him. They molded together as if they were made to sleep as one—two strangely disparate halves of one whole. Magnus sighed, making no protest as Alec tugged the sheets up over him. After only a few minutes, Alec heard his breathing deepen and slow. Magnus’ weight shifted almost imperceptibly, leaning more heavily into Alec as he drifted off.

When he was sure Magnus was completely asleep, Alec slipped out of the bed, adjusted his hair and clothes, and tiptoed out of the room, letting the door click softly closed behind him.

Clear of Magnus’ earshot, Alec strode purposefully toward the ops room. Melusine did not just portal out of New York—she organized dozens of warlocks to help her do it. It was a planned attack. An attack against Magnus. 

Magnus who rescued her. Magnus who practically raised her. Magnus who risked his life to help the people he cared about.

Melusine had proven herself to be calculating and clever—she knew such a strain could kill the High Warlock.

Now, Alec was going to kill her.

Chapter Text

Magnus stepped out into the chilly pre-dawn air, a shimmering portal swirling closed behind him. As much as he loved his classic cars, he had really missed the convenience of portaling everywhere—the ease with which he could pop in and out of all his favorite establishments, no matter the continent. Two steaming to-go cups of coffee warmed his hands, heat coiling upward into the darkness and scattering to the gentle breeze. At this early hour, Magnus could taste Autumn’s arrival. A handful of fallen leaves crinkled as they bounced across the pavement. Inside the glamour, the Institute was already alight, silhouettes of early-rising shadowhunters bustling past golden windows.

A few shadowhunters shot him curious looks as he strolled through the main hall, but most ignored him. He realized his presence had become so constant lately that most of the nephilim had grown accustomed to him wandering around just as naturally as they did—a feat he never thought possible. Even more strange was that he himself did not think twice about it—strolling into the den of shadowhunters like he had the run of the place.

How quickly times change, he mused. He glanced down the hallway leading to the living quarters. Seeing it empty, he slinked over to Alec’s door, knocking quietly.

“Alexander, it’s me! I come bearing a small thank you gift for taking care of me yesterday.”

No answer came. Magnus knew Alec was supposed to wake up five minutes ago, and wondered if their late night texting had caused him to oversleep his alarm. They had a habit of letting it get out of hand, staying up long past Alec’s bed time. Probably because unlike the much more regimented shadowhunter, Magnus did not have a set schedule and often put the onus of ending the conversation on Alec. Yet Alec rarely did, incapable of leaving his messages unchecked when he knew he had one waiting for him from Magnus. It had become a fun game for the warlock, seeing how late he could keep the otherwise painfully responsible shadowhunter awake from afar, monopolizing his attention with any conversational topic he could think of.

All the more reason I owe the poor man a coffee, Magnus reasoned, chuckling to himself. He considered shooting off a text to him now, wondering if he woke up early and ended up in another part of the Institute. If so, Magnus hoped it was the training room. He loved watching Alec train, especially when he forewent his shirt. But before he could dig his phone out of his pocket, one travel cup now levitating in the air beside him, a faint sound from inside the bedroom caught his ear.

Is that… music?

Magnus tried the handle curiously and the door cracked open, releasing the now substantially less muffled sound waves. The tinny tone of an early-2000s shower speaker broke through the drumming of water against tile from the other side of Alec’s bathroom door, across the room. Magnus slipped into the bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him. He set both of their coffees on Alec’s dresser, plopping himself on the foot of his bed to wait for him to finish his shower. He was caught by surprise when he heard Alec’s voice through the door… singing.

Now completely enamored, Magnus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his head to catch the words. He knew the song—Simon Lewis asked for it every time Magnus accepted requests at Pandemonium. To be fair, it was not a bad club song. But he never pegged Alec as a Foster the People fan, and the words drifting out under the bathroom door were not quite the same ones Magnus remembered.

“Starting it up after dark.

Chasing demons, cruising through Central Park.

Joined the downworlders eating paradise.

Getting tilted, yeah, we’ll pay the price.”

Magnus was glad he had yet to sip his coffee, because if he had, he would have choked on it. His hand clamped down on his mouth, stifling a surge of maniacal laughter. Alexander Lightwood was never going to live this down. The normally deadpan shadowhunter sang with energy, and whatever he lacked in skill was made up for with enthusiasm, voice echoing off the tiled walls behind the door. Sometimes he devolved into humming, but picked back up with renewed gusto when the refrain dropped, rising to an adorable falsetto that actually left Magnus mildly impressed.

“All my worst nights are the best times,

High Warlock stealing all my shut-eye.

All my worst nights are the good kind—

high life filtered through the lo-fi.”

Alec “ahhh”ed along with the track, the steady thrumming of the shower drizzling out, leaving only the drone of the bathroom’s ventilation fan under the plinky music, making his yodeling that much clearer. Magnus bit his lip, flushing pink at the altered verse. Many people had serenaded him and even written songs about him between his hundreds of varied affairs, but somehow, he found this instance to be the most charming.

Magnus heard fabric rustle as the shadowhunter toweled himself off. He imagined how Alec looked on the other side of the door, standing naked in a cloud of steam, rivulets of water dripping off his smooth skin. He diverted his attention to the coffee cups, distracting himself from the sudden surge of amorous desires that image provoked. He stifled another round of giggles as Alec switched off the speakers and opened the door.

Alec hung his towel neatly back on the rack after silencing his music. It was a good way to time his showers and keep them brief during his sleepier mornings—most of which could be blamed on Magnus Bane. He never had issues keeping his morning routine succinct until recently, when the later nights sometimes resulted in quick, unplanned naps as he got ready—sometimes even while standing in the shower.

He hated to admit it, but Simon Lewis was right. Alec Lightwood enjoyed almost all of the music the vampire recommended to him. This one always made him think of Magnus, and when he trained, his found himself mumbling along to the music in his earbuds, replacing words as he went. It made him smile.

However, he refused to give either Simon or Clary the satisfaction of admitting to his evolving music tastes. He kept any externally audible enjoyment of the music to his room, where he could sing along in peace without anyone shaming him for choosing to appreciate something fun for once.

Alec floated on the high of a good mood, the upbeat song having successfully plucked all remaining sleepiness from his disposition. Contentment curled his lips as he swung the door open and stepped out into his bedroom, goosebumps trailing across his naked skin as his body hit the cooler air.

Magnus Bane sat cross-legged on the end of the bed, biting his lip to contain his amusement.

“What the—!” Alec’s hands darted to cover himself as he stumbled backwards behind the bathroom door again.

“Oh, relax,” Magnus snickered. His voice lowered to a sultry purr, coiling around the door that separated them. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

A surge of heat spread through Alec from his core. Something about the casual way in which Magnus brought up the topic heightened the goosebumps along his arms, reminding him that he now spent a solid chunk of time naked with another man on a regular basis. The concept was still so new to him. Every time he was reminded of it, a tiny jolt of excitement clenched below his stomach. He grabbed his towel from the rack and wrapped it around his waist, emerging once more from the bathroom—this time with a modicum of dignity.

“Good morning, Magnus,” Alec greeted, some of his usual sarcasm leaking into his tone. He almost sounded grumpy. “Fancy meeting you here. In my bedroom. At six in the morning.”

“My apologies for the scare. I assumed you’d hear me, what with your superior shadowhunter senses and all,” Magnus smirked. His eyes slid over Alec’s bare chest, observing the tiny water droplets that glistened across it. His lips partied as his gaze fell to where Alec’s line of hair disappeared under the towel. “Looks like I came at the right time.”

“I’m not generally on guard for demons in my own bedroom,” Alec responded defensively. “And why are you here, exactly? Not that it isn’t always great to see you, but…” He lifted his hands, waving them inquisitively as he raised an eyebrow. His eyes fell down to the still piping hot coffee cups in Magnus’ hands, expression softening as Magnus opened his mouth to answer.

“I brought you a small ‘thank you’, a token of my appreciation, for taking care of me yesterday after we woke Jocelyn.” He stood, holding one of the cups out to Alec. Alec accepted it, a shy, content smile playing on his lips.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said. Then added, “And… thank you. Or... you’re welcome? ”

“It’s from my third favorite coffee house—a tiny place in Stone Town owned by a dear old friend. I helped him set it up a few decades ago and now he crafts me free drinks whenever I happen to be in town. Be warned, it is a bit spiced.” He added the last bit as Alec took a cursory sip, then waited expectantly for a reaction. Alec’s eyebrows shot up.

“There’s cream in this. And…” Alec trailed off, taking another sip. The initial displeasure in his voice was swiftly replaced with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Well, my friend would never tell me his exact recipe, of course, but I assume it involves turmeric and ginger, as is common to the region.” Magnus sipped his own cup, sighing in appreciation.

Alec nodded slowly. “It’s really good,” he admitted. “Thank you.” He took another sip, then stationed his cup back to the dresser while he located some proper clothes to replace his towel. He eyed Magnus, noticing how the warlock’s eyes wandered over his bare body.

“So if your third favorite coffee shop is in Tanzania, where are your first and second favorites?” Alec disappeared back behind his bathroom door with his clothes as he spoke, voice carrying out to the warlock. Magnus let out a disappointed sigh at Alec’s modesty, making sure it was loud enough for the shadowhunter to hear.

“Missouri,” he answered, “and New Jersey. Neither of them are open at this hour.”

After a fumbling of fabric, Alec emerged with pants on, and his black shirt not yet buttoned. Magnus licked his lips, and noticed that Alec had to try hard to ignore it.

“Missouri?” Alec asked, expression piqued with confusion and surprise. “Really?”

Magnus shrugged. “This one shop makes incredible lattes. Surprisingly, I didn’t even have anything to do with their founding, either. I stumbled upon it by accident, the only time I’ve ever had the misfortune of having to stay the night in that lamentable state. I’ve been trying to convince the owner to relocate to New York for years, but he’s having none of it.”

“Huh,” Alec pondered. “Missouri.”

“It’s the only reason I ever visit the Midwest.”

Alec started buttoning his shirt, double-checking himself in the mirror. Magnus frowned. His coffee joined Alec’s on the dresser, and he darted over to interrupt the shadowhunter’s efforts.

“Hey!” Alec exclaimed as Magnus batted his hands away from his own buttons.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Magnus ventured, fingers sliding down the edges of Alec’s shirt, then over the waistband of his black jeans. Alec cleared his throat, making a very admirable effort to keep his morning routine at least somewhat on track.

“Magnus, I do have a schedule to keep, you know,” he laughed nervously. Magnus tsk ed, shaking his head, batting his eyelashes up at the tall shadowhunter.

“But,” Magnus taunted, “how much do you want to keep that little shower karaoke of yours a secret?”

The tips of Alec’s ears flushed scarlet, and the rest of his face and neck soon followed.

“You heard that?” he faltered. Whatever hope he had of avoiding that humiliation scattered on the nonexistent breeze. His entire air of quiet confidence deflated, drifting out the window like a lost balloon.

“Of course I did, Alec,” Magnus grinned, tilting his head toward the bed. “I was sitting right there.” He stood up on his toes, planting an amorous kiss on Alec’s lips, balling the loose fabric of his unbuttoned shirt in his fists to tug him forward. “I especially liked the part where you blamed all of your sleepless nights on me, even though we haven’t actually had very many sleepovers, when you think about it.”

Alec started to stutter out some self-defense, but Magnus silenced him with a finger over his lips. He could see Alec’s resolve wavering, a pleased smile hinting across his face at being hushed. Something deep in Magnus’ tummy flipped over at the sight of Alec’s unexpectedly concupiscent reaction.

Does he like it when I silence him?

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Alexander,” he assured. “Sometimes I stay up late thinking about you, too.” Their faces hovered very close now, Magnus’ index finger still resting on Alec’s lips. Magnus bit his own lower lip, drawing Alec’s eyes down to it.

Alec made no attempt to respond to that verbally, instead taking an unhurried, deliberate step forward, backing Magnus up against the dresser.

So easy, Magnus thought to himself with satisfaction as Alec’s arms planted languidly on either side of him, trapping the warlock between his body and the furniture. Alec pulled Magnus’ hand to the side, holding it onto the surface of the dresser with some weight as he brushed his lips gently against Magnus’. Magnus tried to follow the kiss, but Alec pulled back too quickly, and he had the warlock held in place now by his wrist. Magnus was no match for Alec’s long reach. He found himself getting a little hard already, an immediate and visceral reaction to being held in place so commandingly. 

Magnus waited impatiently for the next kiss. Every time he raised himself to meet Alec, the shadowhunter pulled back, forcing him to wait longer. Finally, Magnus held completely still.

“You’re a tease,” he accused quietly, voice low with desire. Alec’s lips met his after what felt like forever, tormenting him with their slow exploration. Alec’s hands weren’t on the dresser anymore. They were messing with his own shirt—taking it off? A thrill ran through Magnus’ body at the prospect. All too quickly, Alec pulled back again, tugging softly on Magnus’ bottom lip with his mouth.

“I have a meeting to get to,” he whispered, devilish sparkle replacing the longing in his eyes. Magnus’ eyes widened, dropping to Alec’s now fully-buttoned shirt.

“You scoundrel!” he uttered, realizing his own game had been turned against him.

“Sorry,” Alec shrugged, his crooked grin widening. Now it was his turn to slide his eyes down the warlock’s body, gaze pausing at the bulge that had already begun to press against Magnus’ pants in anticipation. He rested a hand on the warlock’s waist, appreciating the situation with satisfaction. “I’ve got responsibilities. So do you, I might add. You’re welcome to stay in here, of course, until you’ve settled down.”

Magnus could not help but find Alec’s teasing endearing. The shadowhunter was clearly very proud of himself, and Magnus adored it when Alec got bold with him. It made him feel special, even if this particular torment resulted in unmerited agony.

“Fine,” Magnus sighed, acquiescing defeat. “But don’t think I won’t get revenge for this. One more kiss?” He wrapped his arms up around Alec’s neck, pressing his body close. Alec responded with an approving Mmm, leaning in to accept Magnus’ surrender.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Alec murmured.

“Next time I’m making you work for it,” Magnus promised.

Chapter Text

Alec examined the translucent screen in front of him, eliminating three blinking location pins from the map with a tap of his stele. The debriefing from the returning night patrol only took a few minutes, and he set straight to work afterwards with the new information. After the hours of investigation he put in yesterday and the several spots the patrol checked in on, only two locations remained to investigate of the many dozens of portals picked up on the Institute’s tracking systems. Izzy stood behind him, arms crossed.

“Where’s that from?” she asked, noting the unfamiliar logo on the coffee cup in Alec’s hand.

Alec shrugged, mind sprinting for the quickest offhand answer he could give. Across the room, he spotted Magnus emerging from the hallway, holding his identical cup. He wondered briefly how the warlock had handled the arousal Alec had very cruelly abandoned him with—whether he’d waited it out or pursued a more hands-on means of relieving his tension.

In Alec’s bedroom.

Alec swallowed, his throat suddenly a bit dry as a very inappropriate image danced through his thoughts.

Nothing gets you through a lie like the truth, he concluded, returning his attention hastily to the conversation.

“Magnus gave it to me,” he nodded in the direction of the approaching warlock, whose eyebrows raised at the admission. At Izzy’s suggestive glance, Alec backtracked, as if just realizing how it sounded. “A ‘thank you’ for letting him recover in the Institute yesterday,” he added defensively.

“... oh,” Izzy reacted, almost sounding disappointed. She glanced between the two of them, eyes landing on Magnus for verification. The warlock shrugged.

“He’s not lying,” Magnus confirmed. “The man likes coffee, it seemed like an easy way to repay him.”

“Whatever. I’m just disappointed I didn’t get any.” Izzy turned back to the screen. Over her head, Alec and Magnus’ eyes met. For the first time since he left Magnus in his bedroom barely ten minutes before, he realized the downside of the way he had teased the warlock—he still really wanted to go back to his room and finish what they started. And judging by the way Magnus stared hungrily back at him, the warlock felt similarly. Their eyes flickered over each other, pulses quickening.

Magnus swayed slightly, his gaze sliding downward so suggestively that Alec could almost feel the warlock’s touch beneath his clothes. Magnus’ regard returned to Alec’s eyes, where he smirked upon confirming he still had the shadowhunter’s full, enthralled attention.

I guess he waited it out. Alec redirected his focus hastily back to the screen before them, fighting off intrusive thoughts. Now I’m the one being tortured.

The smirk always destroyed him. This was revenge. Alec briefly wondered if anyone would notice their absence for an hour or so.

“We only have two locations left to check,” he explained, fighting to return his mind to the task at hand by updating Magnus on their progress. “We have to keep extra patrols on duty thanks to the threat Jace warned us about. He made landfall this morning with Valentine, and Clary is off doing reconnaissance with her mother and pet vampire. Which leaves only us to look in to these last spots.”

“Well I can eliminate both of these locations,” Magnus said, pointing to the two markers in order. “That’s the entrance and exit point for a portal cast by a warlock I know—Iris. I paid her a visit last night after I went home.”

“What did you find?” Izzy asked.

“Not much, unfortunately. She said Melusine threatened her daughter—” At Alec’s confused expression, he corrected himself. “—adopted daughter. Like many warlocks, she has a soft spot for abandoned warlock children. She’s currently raising a whole gaggle of them.”

Izzy responded, concern evident. “How frightening for her! Is her daughter okay?”

“Yes,” Magnus assured. “But Iris has always been a bit—oh, what’s the word—errant? I would not be surprised if she was lying. At the moment, though, there’s nothing much I can do without any evidence of deliberate wrongdoing.”

“How about participating in an attempt to kill you?” Alec muttered, a bit too aggressively.

“She claims she was under duress,” Magnus frowned. “What am I supposed to do, send her to the Clave for protecting a child?”

“No,” Alec sighed, “you’re right. Did she give you anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” Magnus offered. “That’s the other reason why I dropped by a bit early this morning. She said that Melusine’s target is not the Clave—or me, for that matter. I was just collateral damage, an obstacle blocking her way.”

Alec’s jaw tightened. Collateral damage.

“Then who?” Izzy asked.

“Valentine.” Magnus’ answer surprised both of them. He continued. “It makes sense, when you think about it. Everyone’s afraid of Valentine Morgenstern. Especially downworlders. Melusine is trying to build a weapon that can defeat him, and it seems that some warlocks prefer her more aggressive methods over my decision to cooperate with the Clave. She’s been recruiting.”

“But in the process, she’s murdering mundanes and giving his rhetoric that much more ground to stand on,” came Alec’s acerbic observation.

“Fighting evil with more evil,” Magnus agreed somberly. “I just wish I could speak to her,” he added, “talk her down from this nonsense. She used to be so hopeful, a good girl, despite the myriad traumas of her past.”

Alec remembered Magnus’ close relationship to Melusine. His tone softened. “You know we have to take her in, right? She’s killed a lot of people. She tried to kill you. Whatever good you used to see in her is gone.”

They stood silently, shoulders almost touching.

“I know…” the warlock sighed, struggling to come to terms with what he knew to be true. “Even if she is somehow the same person I used to care for, there’s no walking away from what she’s done.”

“That’s all of the portals then,” Izzy lamented, returning to the current conundrum. “So much for that lead.”

Magnus held up a finger.

“Perhaps not…” He dragged out the words thoughtfully. “May I?” He motioned toward the screen. Alec nodded.

“All yours.”

“You lot only track individual portals,” Magnus explained, seeking out their search parameters. “So if something bigger were to occur—say, an entire apartment teleporting to a new location—it would fly right over your heads.”

“Like your place,” Alec noted, remembering the night when he and Magnus first formally met.

“Precisely,” Magnus nodded in approval. His hand hovered hesitantly over the screen, unable to find what he was looking for.

“Here, let the expert take over,” Alec suggested, guiding Magnus backwards with a hand to the shoulder.

“You?” Magnus scoffed good-naturedly. “No offense, Alexander, but—”

“Not, not me,” Alec interrupted him, laughter hiding in his words. He stepped aside for Izzy to push in front of them.

Izzy grinned smugly at Magnus. “Don’t worry. I got this.” Within only a few seconds a new query was running—a single, seamless graphic occupying the center of the screen, indicating that it would be several minutes before it completed. “Check back in a few.”

Before either of them could respond, the front doors of the Institute burst open. Clary’s raised voice echoed across the space. Alec rubbed his temples.

“Will this girl ever learn how to have a conversation in private?” he groaned.

“You can’t just run around trying to kill people, Mom! He’s your son!”

Everyone’s heads snapped around at that, eyes focusing sharply on the two redheads and their vampire tag-along. A wave of quiet curiosity muffled the buzz of conversations across the entire room. Alec glanced at his two companions, nodding for them to follow him before shouldering his way past a few other shadowhunters to meet Clary and Jocelyn Fairchild.

“Izzy!” Clary exclaimed, bee-lining toward the Lightwoods. Alec interrupted her, holding an arm out to cut off her path.

“Be quiet. Now. And follow me.”

Much to his surprise, everyone obeyed. Only Clary made any sign of protest, rolling her eyes and huffing as she followed. He led them to the war room, where Clary’s histrionics would not be overheard by quite so many people.

“Vampire,” Alec pointed to Simon. “Explain.”

“Me?” Simon asked, shifting his weight between his feet as all eyes turned to him.

“His name is Simon,” Clary snapped, “and I’m perfectly capable of—”

“No,” Alec cut her off, holding up a hand. “What you are perfectly capable of doing right now is calming down. Simon. Tell me what happened.” Alec leaned onto the table, attention now focused fully on the anxious vampire. He heard Clary utter something between a gasp and a whimper, livid at Alec’s dismissal of her outrage.

“Well,” Simon started, words tumbling from his mouth. “Um, we went to find Jace. And he was at this vampire den, with Valentine. And they were, like, not the chill kind of vampires like Raf and I? They were messed up. Like, eating people.”

“Breaking the accords,” Alec clarified stonily.

“Yeah, totally,” Simon confirmed. “It was super uncool. Anyways, we get there, and this one jumps at Jace, and he just like, kills her. Pow!” Simon jabbed his hand forward in a staking motion. “Clary calls Jace’s name, and tries to run after him—Ow! You know just because I heal immediately doesn’t mean I can’t feel pain!”

Clary had stomped on Simon’s foot, and now shot him an exasperated glare of betrayal as he whined.

“Really, Simon?” she griped.

“What?” Simon shot back. “Am I supposed to lie to the scary shadowhunters who can put me in supernatural prison for the next century?”

“You could at least try not to throw me under the bus.”

“Enough!” Alec cut them off. “We’ll deal with your inability to follow instructions later, along with a discussion about the meaning of the word reconnaissance,” he growled toward Clary. Then he turned to Simon again. “Get on with it.” 

Simon cleared his throat nervously.

“Well, that’s pretty much it. Except after that, Clary’s mom tried to murder Jace with a crossbow, but Valentine jumped in front of it and saved him.” Simon mimicked holding a crossbow as he spoke. When he realized his fictional bolts were aimed at a very unamused Magnus Bane, he hastily dropped the act, folding his hands penitently in front of himself as he bounced on his heels.

Alec’s eyebrows shot up. All of those unnecessary details, and the one part the vampire managed to stay brief on was the interesting bit. Alec examined Jocelyn, who waited unrepentantly with her arms crossed.

“So is Valentine dead, or injured?” Alec asked. “Where’s Jace? I can’t feel him nearby.”

“Jace dragged Valentine back through the portal they came in on,” Jocelyn answered, lips pressed into a tight line. “He could have let him die, but he didn’t. He fled with him.”

“Maybe that’s because his own mother just tried to murder him!” Clary exclaimed. Alec pressed two fingers to his temples.

“What is wrong with this family?” he muttered to himself.

“You don’t understand,” Jocelyn justified coldly. “Something is wrong with him. Valentine injected him with demon blood while I was still carrying him. I never wanted to hurt him but… he’s evil. I thought he died years ago, and the world was a safer place because of it.” The conviction behind Jocelyn’s words send a shiver through Alec. His own mother could be strict, even cruel sometimes. But this? It was another level of heartless.

“No, you don’t understand,” Alec shot back. “Jace is not evil. He’s my parabatai. An attempt on his life is an attempt on mine. Try anything like that again and I will hand you over to the Clave for attempted murder.” He let that sink in, hoping Jocelyn remembered what the punishment would be like in the City of Bones for a shadowhunter who attempted to harm the Head of an Institute. Then, he continued, “Jace is on a mission right now. And the only reason I’m not throwing you behind bars myself is because you just inadvertently gave him the last opportunity he needed to gain Valentine’s trust.”

Alec’s eyes found Clary’s, not waiting for any response out of Jocelyn.

“You,” he commanded. “With me.”

Clary walked beside Alec down the quiet hallway toward the living quarters, pausing behind him when they reached a suitably empty nook. She still simmered from Alec’s casual dismissal of her earlier. Alec knew she hated his refusal to take her seriously, and chose his words carefully.

“You had every right to be just as angry with your mother as you acted,” he said. “Even more so, if you ask me. But you can’t storm around the Institute shouting every time you get upset. No one is going to take you seriously like that.”

“Excuse me?” Clary flashed. “My mother just tried to kill my brother. And I’m supposed to be okay with that?”

“Did you miss the part where I said you have every right to be upset?” Alec snapped back. “Now hold on a second before I change my mind about this.”

“About what?” Clary asked, still heated, but now also curious. Alec activated his Seelie ring, speaking out loud so Clary could hear his half of the conversation.

“Jace, can you talk?” After a few tense moments of silence, Jace’s voice echoed through Alec’s mind.

I was just about to contact you, Jace responded. Are you up to date on what that insane woman just tried to do? What is wrong with my family?

“Yeah,” Alec answered. “No disagreement here. Is Valentine injured?”

Not anymore. His iratze took care of it.

“Any chance he trusts you near the cup now?” Alec asked.

Maybe. Something’s definitely changed.

“Listen,” Alec’s tone lowered as he glanced over to Clary, who waited with her arms crossed much like her mother’s had been, confused as to why Alec had brought her along. Alec finished his sentence silently. Clary is really worried about you. She’s kind of losing her mind and it’s making my life difficult. If you’re in a safe spot… do you… want to talk to her?

Jace’s response came slowly, pain coloring his words. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

Jace, I know it’s been hard for you, dealing with your feelings. But avoiding her isn’t going to solve anything. You’re only hurting her, and yourself. Alec added as a mental note that he hoped the reunion would remind Jace that not everyone in his family was a murderous psychopath.

He waited as Jace deliberated. Clary tapped her foot. The response came faintly, as if Jace barely believed his own words. Fine. Put her on.

“Here,” Alec slid the Seelie ring from his finger, holding it out toward Clary. Clary froze, eyes widening.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “What about only using these for mission-critical conversations?”

“I think it’s mission-critical that Jace hears in your own words that you weren’t involved in his assassination attempt,” Alec answered dryly. Clary did not require further encouragement. She snatched the ring from Alec’s hand, sliding it onto her much more delicate finger. It shrank to fit her, and she gasped as she activated it, tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes.

“Jace?” she choked out. “Yeah, it’s me! I can’t believe I can hear you!”

Alec felt like an intruder here, watching as Clary fell into silent conversation.

“Come find me when you’re done,” he grunted. Clary nodded back at him, sniffling as the tears that had been threatening finally started to spill. Awkward in the face of her unchecked emotion, Alec turned back down the hallway and left Clary to have some privacy with her brother.

Chapter Text

Alec found Izzy and Magnus hovering over a station in the ops room, both frowning down at a map of the Northern US.

“Did the results come in?” Alec asked, peering over their shoulders.

“Yes,” Magnus grumbled. He tilted his head to the side as his sullen gaze lifted to meet Alec’s. “I’ve been robbed.”

Alec looked to Izzy with one eyebrow raised, unsure how a dent in Magnus’ over-abundance of wealth affected their mission.

“Melusine broke past Magnus’ wards and stole one of his downtown apartments,” Izzy smirked. Magnus crossed his arms, glaring off across the room like a bullied child. Alec tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“... How?” he asked, faltering as he looked between them. “Like… the whole thing?”

“Yeah,” Magnus griped. “The whole damn thing, contents and all. She broke through while I was recovering yesterday, and teleported away in it. I’ve been so tired and… distracted,” his eyes flicked over to Alec, “that I didn’t even notice the broken wards until the address came through on your systems.”

Alec nodded slowly, fighting down a blush. “So… do we know where she took it?”

“Yes, and that’s the strangest part,” Magnus answered, stepping aside to give Alec a better view of the screen. A pin blinked on the map over northern Michigan. “You can’t just teleport a building anywhere. There are rules, just like with portals. Apartments like mine have a few set points they can jump between, and can only jump to spaces that have been properly prepared for them. For example, I could not transport my home to the center of 5th Avenue. But I do not have any properties in…” he ran a finger over the label below the location pin, “... Keweenaw.”

Alec shook his head, attention split between Magnus and the screen. “So… what does that mean?”

“Mellie would have had to prepare this space herself, likely with help, so there’s probably a paper trail. Which is good news, since we couldn’t get an exact location. The whole area is surrounded by water, and that makes pinpointing things a bit difficult, even for me. But at least that tells us it’s probably near the coast. And it’s far enough from any Institute or big city that I think we can guess that this is where her long term base of operations has been. Far away from prying eyes.”

“But if she’s already got a place there, why steal your apartment?” Izzy asked, tapping her finger against her lips. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if I had died during her attempt,” Magnus countered. “Imagine for a second that I had. None of the portals you followed up on would lead back to her. You wouldn’t have thought to expand your search like I recommended, and I wouldn’t be around to eventually recover and notice that my wards had been broken. The place she stole is an old property, one I haven’t used in years for anything other than storage. Not even my closest associates would think much of it after my passing. It would have been a clean getaway.”

Alec did not like imagining this scenario. He clenched his jaw against the heaviness that weighed on his chest, a tiny muscle twitching on the side of his face. He pictured himself falling back into his old routine, before Magnus, even before Clary—mindlessly following orders, except when Jace and Izzy outnumbered him, and cleaning up after their recklessness with paperwork and politics. It seemed like a world away, a far off time when he wasn’t really living or thinking for himself.

What would he have done if Magnus had died? If this thing between them that they had only just begun exploring was cut short? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Why did this distress him so much? Was he so enamored with the warlock that he already couldn’t imagine life without him? He mentally kicked himself.

Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jace.

“Well, thanks to Alec, we don’t have to worry about that scenario, right?” Izzy grinned up at him, clearly over her earlier concern about yesterday’s daring rescue. She turned back to Magnus. “And, thanks to your very much living self, we have a lead! So it actually all turned out for the better.”

“Alec is just lucky that I’m powerful. If I were a lesser warlock, we both would have died as a result of that stunt.” Magnus shot Alec another grumpy glance, still not keen on the thought of the shadowhunter endangering himself.

“But we didn’t,” Alec intoned. “And I saved your life, so can we just agree that it was the right move and get past it?”

“You two are adorable.” Izzy cut in to their bickering. “Please send me transcripts of all of your cute little arguments on this mission,” she added. She shot Alec an apologetic glance, but it melted quickly into a grin at his bafflement.

Alec did a double take. “What?” He searched both of their expressions frantically, waiting for the punchline.

“Oh, yes,” Magnus chimed in, stifling a sly smile. “Isabelle was just telling me about how there isn’t much manpower to spare at the Institute lately. Obviously I must participate in this mission—I mean, it’s my apartment that Mellie stole, after all, and I have been consulting on the case since the start. But who would the Institute send, with everyone so busy?” He dragged the question out, making it clear it was rhetorical.

Izzy picked up where he left off, leading Alec to believe that this is what they were discussing just before he joined them. “We need to keep as many people here as possible who know what’s really going on with Jace, in case he needs a quick extraction. But since Clary can’t leave the Institute much anyways with Valentine looking for her, you could just leave the Seelie ring with her. It’ll be her full-time job to listen for him. And if he does need anything, I’ll run point. Since you’ve been leading the Melusine investigation from the start on the Institute’s end, it only makes sense that you’d go.”

“Why shouldn’t we all go?” Alec argued. “Portal in, portal out. When done right, with proper planning, missions like this should be quick and quiet. There’s no reason to limit it to only one of us.”

“As seems to be the trend lately, portaling isn’t exactly an option.” Magnus sounded as exasperated as Alec felt. Alec didn’t bother to ask for an explanation, instead shooting them both an impatient look.

“I’ve never been to Michigan,” Magnus expounded, “so I can’t portal there. And unfortunately, we have no way of knowing which other warlocks might be in league with Melusine and tip her off. I’d trust Catarina, but she’s never been to the area either. We’re going to have to use more traditional methods of travel.”

“The closest Institute is in Minneapolis,” Izzy continued, tapping the map. “You can request to portal in there, then drive. Unless you’d rather fly.”

Alec tensed up. “No flying,” he blurted.

“If you say so,” Izzy shrugged. “Though I’ve always wanted to ride an airplane, myself!” After a sharp glance from Alec, she returned to the facts. “The drive is about six and a half hours, assuming you hit no traffic.”

“So we could be stuck there overnight, depending on what we find, or how long the drive truly ends up taking,” Magnus mused, examining his neatly-polished fingernails.

A familiar anxiety bubbled up in Alec’s chest. This was a mission. A documented mission, that would be recorded in reports, and filed with the Clave. Anyone with the right clearance could read about it, know if he and Magnus stayed in the area overnight, just the two of them. Anyone could jump to conclusions.

~

Magnus noticed the moment Alec’s tone changed from bafflement to panic. Curiosity quieted him, allowing the two siblings to work out the details.

Is he afraid of flying? Magnus wondered. Or of Melusine?

The former option seemed plausible to him—shadowhunters almost never traveled by air, and Magnus could safely assume that Alec had never been on a plane before. But Alec seemed hesitant before the topic of airplanes had been broached, and Magnus found it unlikely that such an insignificant thing would give the shadowhunter such pause.

The latter option seemed virtually impossible. Alec was many things, but he was not a coward. When it came to fighting, he would always be the first to endanger himself in the name of protecting others. Magnus knew this.

“Fine,” Izzy was saying. “I’ll wear the seelie ring. Though I still think Clary can handle it. Does that make you feel better?”

It was not until the siblings finalized their plans that reality hit Magnus like an angry, bitter brick wall.

“Ok, fine,” Alec sighed. The reluctance in his tone hit a nerve. “I’ll contact the Minneapolis Institute. Maybe they can send a team along with us for backup.”

Cold realization swept through Magnus’ chest.

This is a stealth mission, he thought. More bodies will only make our task more difficult. He knows that.

It wasn’t backup Alec wanted. It was a chaperone. Someone who could verify his reports, confirm to any curious third parties within the Clave that nothing uncouth occurred on the mission.

Of course. Magnus should have realized earlier. He should have known. Alec was ashamed.

He should have known when Alec never acknowledged him affectionately in front of anyone, even his own sister. Magnus told himself it was Alec’s dedicated professionalism.

He should have known when Alec dashed off to meetings ahead of him after steamy encounters in his room. Magnus told himself Alec enjoyed the naughty excitement of a secret workplace affair.

He should have known when he made excuses for his own love marks in answer to Isabelle and Clary’s nosy questions. He thought he was just being respectful, not airing their private activities for the world to see. And he enjoyed letting Isabelle jump to her conclusions—all the more fun to spring the truth on her later. But he remembered Alec’s flustered blush, when he spotted him across the room. Magnus told himself Alec enjoyed the thrill, the adventure of hearing himself gossiped about.

He should have known when Alec called off his own wedding after Magnus’ ultimatum, and then ignored him for weeks. Magnus told himself Alec needed some time to deal with the fallout, to emotionally recover. To sort out his feelings.

It was only natural for someone as private and reserved as Alec to want to start out a relationship quietly. Magnus respected that. Interrogations from friends and family were an unnecessary stressor when you weren’t even sure you wanted to stay with someone long-term yet.

Magnus had always assumed that the situation was temporary.

“Magnus?” Alec’s voice cut into the warlock’s self-absorbed spiral. It was just the two of them now, Izzy having pranced off to complete some formal request or another.

Magnus had no idea what Alec had been saying. He didn’t really care.

“We don’t need more shadowhunters on this mission,” Magnus stated, refusing to hide the ice in his voice. It had the desired effect, Alec’s whole demeanor shifting away from easygoing relief to a much more appropriate facial expression that said “oh shit.”

“Magnus—” Alec started, immediately defensive.

Magnus cut him off, having none of it. “You just want someone there in case the Clave starts asking questions about you. Do you know how absurd that is? Believe it or not, Alexander, no one cares. No one in the Clave is actively examining your every move, trying to pin some hideous ‘crime of gay’ on you. But you’re so caught up in making sure they never do that you would risk jeopardizing this entire investigation.”

Alec paled. His eyes darted around, checking that none of the nearby nephilim had overheard Magnus’ outburst. His clear anxiety only served to further prove the warlock’s point.

Magnus shook his head, astounded. “Honestly, Alexander. I always thought I was the unprofessional one.”

Magnus spun on his heel and strode outside, Alec following quietly until they crossed out into the biting morning air. Magnus still carried his almost-empty coffee cup, and found that the remaining few sips had suddenly grown searingly hot, steam curling into the wind through the opening in the lid.

“Of course,” Magnus accused before Alec could speak, “it was the prospect of unprofessionalism that drove you out here to defend yourself. Gods forbid you actually care about something aside from your outdated nephilim axioms.”

“Woah, wow, okay,” Alec answered, running a hand through his hair. “Can you slow down for a second? I need to catch up.”

Magnus’ feet crunched on dry leaves. Alec’s did not. Magnus noticed that happened when Alec got stressed—he fell into combat mode, moving more carefully and soaking in the environment around him as if anyone might jump out at him at any second. Even when the real threat wasn’t physical.

“I’m not interested in being your closet case, Alexander,” Magnus snapped. “I’m not going to sit by the wayside while you prioritize your precious reputation above all else. That’s what shadowhunters do, right? The law is the law. And queerness may not be officially against the law, but it might as well be, right? Even worse if it’s with a downworlder.”

Magnus caught the shift in Alec’s expression, the moment the shadowhunter shut down. Internally, a part of him hated himself for causing it. But he also had too much pride to allow himself to be trampled over. He refused to allow anyone to disrespect him the way Camille had. Not anymore. He was worth more than that.

“Is that what I was doing yesterday?” Alec asked coldly. Magnus had heard this voice before—the night Alec walked in on Camille kissing him. Why did every problem in his love life always have to drag his thoughts back to her ?

“Because from what I recall,” Alec continued, “I saved your life, and then spent almost two hours locked in a bedroom with you—others be damned—making sure you were okay.”

“So tell me, then,” Magnus retorted, refusing to let Alec change the subject. “What's going on today, Alexander? What is the real reason you want other shadowhunters along on this mission?”

Alec stopped short, opening his mouth to respond, then closing it again.

“Tell me that when you write those reports you nephilim are so fond of, you won’t be just a little relieved that some other shadowhunter will have been around to verify that Alexander Lightwood acted like a perfectly professional, emotionless, straight little soldier in whatever bare-bones motel we end up having to stop in. You know, just in case the Inquisitor gives it a read later on and thinks ‘Wow, bedbugs and old cigarettes, so romantic, I wonder if that boy did anything gay on this mission that he failed to mention?’”

Magnus saw Alec’s frosty facade crumbling as he spoke. He kept going anyways, unable to stem the flow of pent up insecurities that came spilling out. By the time he finished, Alec stared at the ground, hands shoved in his pockets. It was the most defeated Magnus had ever seen him—even after losing the Mortal Cup, even after watching Jace leave with Valentine. Magnus had never seen Alec look so crushed.

“That’s not fair,” Alec mumbled, his voice strained.

“Life isn’t fair,” Magnus answered, his heated tone finally quieting. “I am hundreds of years old, Alexander. I am not interested in being someone’s dirty little secret.”

“That’s not what you are to me,” Alec protested quietly. He raised his eyes, searching for Magnus’, and flinched when he saw the anger and hurt there. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself again. The silence fell heavy between them.

Magnus’ heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces.

What have I done? he asked himself. This is my fault. Even now, over a hundred years later, I’m still letting Camille and the scars she left rule my life. Alec doesn’t deserve this.

He wanted to take it all back. To apologize. To call himself a crazy warlock and forget about it. To let Alec invite whomever he wanted on the mission, or even just ask him about it in a kind, sympathetic tone instead of immediately jumping to the most malicious conclusion possible.

Instead Magnus spun up a portal and fled home, where there was whiskey and solitude, leaving Alec standing alone outside of an old church that looked abandoned, dead leaves swirling around his feet.

Chapter Text

Alec Lightwood - 09:24

Hey

Alec Lightwood - 10:14

I wanted to text yesterday but I thought maybe you wanted space.

I’m really bad at this sort of thing.

Alec Lightwood - 11:05

[Alec Lightwood deleted a message.]

I think I should apologize to you.

But I’d like to do it in person, if you’ll let me.

Alec Lightwood - 11:07

[Alec Lightwood deleted a message.]

11:07 - Missed call from Alec Lightwood

Magnus shut off the screen on his phone, staring back into the amber single-malt swirling gently in his hand. It dangled from his fingers, his wrist propped across his knee as he reclined in his garnet-red armchair.

Good going, High Warlock, he thought to himself bitterly. You’ve overreacted and made yourself look like a complete catastrophizer.

He sipped from the glass, inhaling deeply through his nose, then releasing the breath in a drawn out sigh. He replayed his conversation with Alec in his head, feeling more and more embarrassed for himself.

You knew you were never okay being someone’s closet case, he scolded. Did you ever consider just talking to him about it, instead of bottling it in until he hit the right nerve?

In truth, he hadn’t realized how much it meant to him. He really did enjoy toying with Izzy and Clary—the girls were good sports, and Magnus made a regular habit of letting Izzy believe whatever she assumed about his life. It produced priceless entertainment when she realized she was wrong and bombarded him with angry text messages, painting an enigmatic picture of himself that he thrived on. He could never refuse a mysterious reputation.

But somewhere, in the hidden recesses of his heart, he had hoped to be important enough to Alexander Lightwood that the game would eventually end. That one day, they would go on nauseatingly cute double dates with Izzy and whomever her current beau might be, or even Clary and Simon, whom he suspected would soon be Facebook official despite Clary’s blatant ignorance of the vampire’s affections. He imagined walking into the Institute and being greeted with a kiss on the cheek before a meeting, or dropping by to portal them both to a quick lunch in Sukhumvit, not caring if anyone saw them holding hands as they left. It was stupid. An unrealistic romantic fantasy about a boy he’d idealized beyond recognition.

Magnus glanced at his coffee table, where a small, deep green velvet bag hid his latest project. He had been working on it all night, using the monotonous, soothing nature of spellcraft to organize his thoughts.

Maybe you should stop being such a drama queen and just let him talk to you, instead of sabotaging everything the second it requires any amount of effort.

“Ughhh,” Magnus groaned, audibly grumbling at his own thoughts. He threw back the last sip of his whiskey. “Fine.”

His phone screen illuminated once more, Alec’s number blinking across it as he waited for the shadowhunter to pick up.

“Magnus,” Alec’s voice was scrambled by the small speakers when he answered, the air waves doing it no justice. “You need to come to the Institute.”

“I know,” Magnus sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ignored you. We could talk here, if you’d rather. I’ve been awful, and I should apologize.”

Alec paused, as if caught off guard.

“Oh, um. Well, I would love to talk. But the thing is, that’s not why I was calling…” He faltered over his words. “The portal request came through. Whenever you can get here, we need to leave. If you still want to.” He added the last part on hastily. “But, I mean, I kind of need you. So please come.”

“Oh,” Magnus answered, for lack of a better response. Aside from medical emergencies, that was the fastest portal request he had ever known to happen. They usually took multiple days, sometimes a week. The Clave held no reputation for swift response times.

With a flick of his wrist, a portal opened beside him, and he stepped out into Alec’s office. Alec stood facing away from him, staring out of the clear windows opposite his desk, his phone still to his ear. He startled and spun around at the sudden intrusion.

“Magnus,” he said, eyes wide in surprise. He ended the call and tucked his phone into his pocket. “That was quick.”

“You did say ‘whenever I can get here,’” Magnus pointed out.

“I did.” Alec’s eyes fell to Magnus’ left hand, which still held the empty glass. The stained glass windows behind Magnus reflected an array of blues onto the curved surface.

“Oops,” Magnus remarked. The glass disappeared in a puff of cyan smoke. Alec smiled, momentarily transported back to the night they first kissed, when Magnus used the same trick on both of their empty glasses. The lopsided smile destroyed Magnus in a way that only Alec could, crumbling any residual anger to dust. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he just stood there.

“Alec?” Izzy swung open the door. “Oh, good! You’re both here. I just got a fire message. We’re all set.”

Alec gave Magnus a short nod. “You ready?”

“Nope,” Magnus quipped.

They followed Izzy through the main hall to the front entrance of the Institute, where a shimmering portal filled the doorway. She stopped Alec before he could step through, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Be safe,” she demanded. Alec responded into her hair, one arm encircling her.

“Don’t worry, Iz,” he assured her. “We’ll be fine.” She mumbled something that Magnus couldn’t hear, and Alec squeezed her tighter.

“I love you too,” the shadowhunter answered fondly. Magnus’ heart twisted in on itself.

Idealized, he mentally repeated. Or maybe he just really is perfect.

Alec tried to mock a stern expression with his sister, but failed miserably, instead dissolving into an affectionate grin. “Take care of my Institute while I’m out. See you late tonight.” He spared a single glance for Magnus to make sure he was following, then stepped confidently through the portal, in his element as he focused on the mission ahead.

Magnus moved to follow, but Izzy caught his arm.

“Magnus,” she prompted. He waited, unsure what sort of goodbye she could possibly have for him. “I know that you have a new beau now or whatever,” she said, “but please… take care of him? He’s the person I love most in the world, and I know this is more dangerous than he lets on. I’m not blind. I just want him to come home safe.”

Magnus nodded, resting his hand softly over Izzy’s. “You have nothing to fear, little firefly. I promise I would never let anything happen to him.”

Izzy accepted Magnus’ oath, releasing her grip on him. “You be safe, too,” she added with a wry smile. “I’ll never get to figure out who your mystery lover is if you die.”

“I’ve lived this long,” Magnus shot back. “I have no intention of stopping now.”

~

The Minneapolis Institute reminded Alec of a mundane shopping mall. Wide hallways tiled in bright, neutral colors opened up to skylights and tall, modern glass windows. Ops and war rooms were separated from the vast main hall by glass panels, bustling with people. He felt ill at ease in the strangely sunny space.

With a quiet whoosh, Magnus materialized beside him.

“What took so long?” Alec asked, eyes scanning the wide room. The bizarrely cheerful ambiance contrasted sharply with his mood. He was anxious to get into the car, were he could talk things over with Magnus. Hopefully in such an enclosed space they could get through the conversation without the warlock disappearing into a portal again.

“You sister wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get you killed,” Magnus smirked. Alec shook his head, sighing.

“Sorry, she’s a bit over-protective,” he apologized.

“Says the man who did, in fact, almost get himself killed for me,” Magnus snorted. “Typical Lightwoods.”

Hope blossomed in Alec’s chest. Maybe Magnus would forgive him, after all.

“Alexander Lightwood?” A round, short-haired woman doddered up to them, peppy voice bouncing through the air. “And you must be Magnus Bane! I’m Rosie Bridgestock, Head of the Minneapolis Institute. You requested a vehicle?”

The arrangements took only minutes—a few signatures and Rosie dropped the keys jovially into Alec’s hands, from which Magnus promptly plucked them. Alec glanced back in surprise, but made no protest.

“This is so exciting,” Rosie gushed. The speed rune on her neck bounced slightly as she spoke. “We don’t normally get anything serious around here—a few minor demons, maybe some rowdy vampires every so often. Do you need any backup? I’m sure my daughters would be so thrilled to tag along. They could use the adventure.”

Magnus shot Alec a curious glance, realizing the shadowhunter had not yet made the request for additional support like he originally said he would. Rosie led them to a sporty hybrid just outside the doors, which flashed its lights and beeped when Magnus checked it with the key remote.

“No, thanks,” Alec responded politely. “It’s incredibly generous of you, but this mission requires stealth. If we do need to call in anyone, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Of course, of course,” Rosie concurred as they settled into their seats. “Drive safe!”

She waved them off as Magnus started the engine. They slid through the glamour line, and Alec glanced back to see a crumbling shopping complex, the name Bloomingdale’s dangling precariously from the building’s face by the apostrophe.

The drive began with silence, Magnus staring intently at the GPS as he navigated them to a twelve-lane highway labeled I-35W. Finally, the warlock spoke up.

“You know,” he mused. “In all of my years, I’ve never once before met a heavyset shadowhunter.”

Alec wheezed slightly, something between a breath and a laugh. “Neither have I. Not even retired.”

“Though if I recall,” Magnus added, “Rosemarie Bridgestock is a well-known figure in your world. An incredible fighter.”

Alec nodded. “She was awarded the Minneapolis Institute after she single-handedly took down a huge mundane trafficking ring—young girls being sold into slavery to vampires. I was expecting someone a little more…”

“Menacing,” Magnus finished. Alec nodded again, this time with a smile.

“I guess today I get to learn a lesson about assumptions,” Alec said quietly.

They fell back into silence for a few minutes, until Alec mustered the courage to tear his eyes from the passenger-side window and speak.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said. “I was an ass.” Magnus glanced in his direction, and Alec hoped more than anything that Magnus knew he meant it.

The warlock bit his lip, returning his attention to the road. “You weren’t the only one,” he answered. “I should not have reacted the way I did. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you know my thoughts when I had never once shared them with you.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be okay with things just as they were,” Alec confessed. “It was selfish. I should have checked in with you. To be honest… I was afraid. Of fighting over it. I guess I ended up just making things worse.” The normally coolly composed shadowhunter fidgeted, running the tips of his fingers across each other as he stared down at them.

“Is that how it’s always been for you in other relationships?” Magnus asked. “You both just avoided uncomfortable topics?”

“What other relationships?” Alec snorted. Magnus’ eyes widened, and Alec immediately regretted the admission. He shifted in his seat, wondering if that was a deal-breaker for the warlock.

“I didn’t know I was your first relationship,” Magnus murmured. “I mean I kind of figured I was your first to get very far physically, but…” He trailed off. That silenced them both again. Alec struggled for a response. Instead, Magnus spoke up once more.

“I understand—your reluctance. This must all be terrifying for you.”

“It is,” Alec answered. He slid down in his seat, knees pressed against the glove compartment, hoping the more relaxed position would slow his racing heart. “I’m just… completely lost, a lot of the time. I’m sorry about that. I don’t really know how this works. I don’t know what we are to each other. I feel like maybe there are some unspoken standards that I’m supposed to be following.”

“It’s okay,” Magnus chuckled. “That feeling doesn’t ever fully go away, I don’t think.” Then, he added, “Believe it or not, this is terrifying for me, too.”

“Really?” Disbelief widened Alec’s eyes, pushing one eyebrow just a little higher than the other. “You?”

“Of course,” Magnus affirmed. “And it certainly doesn’t help that I’m about thirty-five times your age. Some people would probably find that to be very… distasteful. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a mortal—and now a shadowhunter, no less. And on top of that, now I find out I’m your first romance of any kind? I have a community, too. They’re not quite as judgemental, but they still talk. I’m supposed to be a leader to them, not a gossiping point.”

Alec’s mind skidded to a halt at the math.

“Wait, that would make you… like 800 years old.”

Magnus shrugged. “Well, if we’re putting everything out there, might as well get that out of the way as well.”

Alec laughed—an expression more of shock and incredulity than of amusement. “Magnus that’s… holy shit. I thought you said you were 300?”

The warlock chortled. “I said over 300.”

“Wow,” was all Alec could respond.

“Way to make a man feel young, Alexander.”

“Sorry,” Alec apologized. “I’m just a bit surprised. Wait… did you know Genghis Khan?” He crunched numbers in his head, coming to the conclusion that such an encounter was indeed possible.

“No, Alexander. Why would you even think that?” Magnus actually sounded a bit offended at that one.

“You seem to know every other famous person from history, just thought I’d throw it out there.”

“Very funny.” Magnus rolled his eyes. Then he added, “And it was pronounced more like Chengis.”

He hesitated, much like Alec himself often did when trying to figure out how to word a question.

“Does that bother you? My age?”

“No,” Alec responded thoughtfully. “I’m mostly just… impressed. You’ve lived through so much. I don’t think my brain would be able to keep up with all those memories.”

“Sometimes mine hardly can,” Magnus almost whispered. Alec turned Magnus’ question around, sending it back to him.

“Does me being so much younger, and mortal… Does it bother you?” Alec’s heart beat in his throat.

“A little,” Magnus answered honestly, voice still soft. “I’m afraid of what that means if this turns into something more.”

Only the quiet rumbling of the engine changing gear broke the pensive quiet between them.

Something more, Alec pondered. He felt like his throat might close up entirely at any second. An undeniable longing rose inside of him. He remembered his stupid fantasy, back when he sprawled across Magnus’ sofa, lost in a cloudy swirl of marijuana and the heady high of the warlock’s presence, imagining them snuggled up together come Winter. He wanted to make Magnus hot cocoa, to surprise him with gifts and take him on dates. He wanted to scope out restaurants with Izzy. He imagined himself and Magnus on a double date with his sister and Meliorn, but brushed it away quickly. Izzy and Meliorn didn’t really have a “public dinner dates” type relationship. But at the moment, neither did Alec and Magnus.

“What does ‘something more’ mean?” Alec asked tentatively. “I mean, what even are we now?”

Magnus stared at the road ahead, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I’m not very good with labels,” he mumbled.

Alec’s heart fell a little. A tiny part of him had hoped that someday soon, he might get to call Magnus his boyfriend. He knew it was stupid, childish even. But a part of him needed that security, that mutual understanding of where they stood with each other. Whenever he imagined himself coming out to his parents—to anyone—he imagined doing so with a steadfast, supportive boyfriend by his side. In recent months, somehow that fantasy had morphed to specifically cast Magnus Bane in that role.

“So…” Alec concluded, “I’m not ready to come out to the entire world, and you don’t want to be saddled with a label.”

“So, fine,” the warlock acquiesced, now with more confidence. “We can just see how things go between us for awhile like this, figure the rest out later, when one of us is more ready for a change.”

“Are… you sure?” Hesitance lingered in Alec’s words, afraid of hurting Magnus’ feelings more than he already had. The idea of continuing without defining their relationship frightened him—Alec preferred clear cut, black and white situations. But if it meant he could keep Magnus just a little bit longer, hold on to this special, only-for-him part of his life, it was worth it.

“Yes,” the warlock confirmed. “But I expect honesty from you. No more dancing around topics like this. And I promise to do the same.”

“I can do that,” Alec agreed shyly. Something shifted in him—a nervousness that had prevented him from talking to Magnus about those stray thoughts, those tiny, meaningless little fantasies. He felt it dissolving.

The tension between them dissipated, conversation melting into easy normalcy as trees slid by them in a blur of red and orange.

Chapter Text

2pm

Magnus sank back into the passenger seat, examining Alec’s passively focused expression as the shadowhunter’s sharp blue eyes swept back and forth over the open road ahead of them. Even when he was not in control of the car, Magnus found it difficult to relax, checking their blind spots and tensing when they switched lanes as if he were still behind the wheel. To his credit, Alec did not comment, allowing the warlock his silent effort not to backseat drive.

“When did you learn to drive?” Magnus asked, focusing his eyes back down toward his rings in an effort to let himself rest. “I didn’t think shadowhunters bothered with such mundane practices.”

“They generally don’t.” The visible corner of Alec’s lips tightened in that way that Magnus adored, when he thought of something amusing, or happy, but stifled the expression because Alec’s default was always to maintain his austere composure. Magnus waited patiently for him to continue.

“I don’t like having only one way to get around,” Alec admitted. “Jace, Izzy, and I started taking Ubers sometimes—not every mission warrants trying to get a portal from the nearest warlock. And I wondered, why shouldn’t we just have our own cars? Jace and Izzy thought it was a joke. So I taught myself. You know, mundanes have whole rulebooks available that teach you everything you need to know. It’s easy.”

“So… no one ever taught you? You never practiced with, say, an adult in the car? To give you feedback?” Magnus’ voice carried a worried edge, betraying his concern as to whether or not he should have given up his control of the vehicle.

Alec frowned. “I am an adult.”

Magnus returned to his vigilance, eyes sweeping the road just as Alec’s did, now with more uneasy tension. This time, the shadowhunter rolled his eyes.

“You know I’ve been driving for a couple years now, right?” he asked wryly. “If I was going to get both of us killed, I would have already. I couldn’t take the mundane driving test because I don’t have any ID, but I did make sure I had the ability to pass it before driving anywhere crowded.”

Magnus relaxed slightly, but he did not take his eyes off the road until he unintentionally drifted into a shallow doze, the exhaustion of the past few days, and his recent magical exertion, catching up with him.

His eyes fluttered open a short time later, ears tuning in to the voice of Halsey drifting from the stereo. He faced away from Alec, who had not yet taken notice of the warlock’s stirring. Alec mumbled along to the music, his voice barely a whispered hum.

“All we do is drive…
And New York City never felt like home to me,
New York City never felt like home.
New York City never felt like home to me,
until I had you on the open road…”

“Are you changing the words to songs again?” Magnus murmured, voice croaky with sleep. He pushed himself upright, hoping his hair had not gotten too squished against the window, and yawned.

Alec fell silent. Magnus finished his stretching and turned to cast him a glance, finding that the shadowhunter was blushing bright scarlet. Magnus grinned. He adored it when Alec got embarrassed in this way. Usually he shut down, reverting to his stern business-mode voice to avoid confronting whatever flustered him. But in the rare moments the shadowhunter actually appeared genuinely bewildered, his distress brought with it a charm that left Magnus wondering if the boy could do a little bit of magic of his own after all.

“I thought you were asleep,” Alec mumbled, eyes fixed ahead. The ends of his ears were red, and Magnus wanted run the tips of his fingers over them and kiss them.

“I woke up,” Magnus pointed out, unnecessarily. Alec’s lips thinned to a tense line as he sucked them in, unsure how to climb out of the hole of mortification he had dug for himself. Magnus threw him a rope. “I like how you do that. It’s cute.”

Alec’s eyes widened, his cheeks somehow blushing more. “I’m not… cute,” he stuttered. Magnus briefly wondered if he should be concerned about his control of the car, but Alec’s driving skills seemed unaffected by his bafflement. Magnus reminded himself that shadowhunters had far keener senses and reaction times than mundanes or warlocks.

“Oh, come on, Alexander. Humor me. I want to know what you changed in this one.” He shot Alec the most innocent, saccharine smile he could muster, and watched with deep satisfaction as the shadowhunter’s protective walls crumbled.

“I… just that part,” Alec mumbled. “I’ve never been to California, so I changed it to New York.” Still droning quietly under their conversation, the song reached its conclusion, swapping out for something Magnus had never heard before.

“So,” Magnus teased, “you kept the part about your hand wrapped around someone’s ‘stick shift?’ I do hope it’s mine.”

Alec reached maximum redness, eyes trained on the road. “I hadn’t thought about that part much yet,” he choked out.

“You know,” Magnus observed, “If you actually learned how to sing properly, you wouldn’t be so awful at it.”

It took Alec a few seconds to adjust to the warlock’s whiplash-inducing return to the topic of the song, relieved to leave the previous subject behind. Much to his chagrin, certain images of himself and Magnus doing very inappropriate things in the Institute-issued vehicle remained stained on his mind. He pushed them aside with monumental effort.

"Wow, Magnus, thanks for the vote of confidence," Alec responded, unsure whether to take the comment as an insult or an acknowledgement of potential. He settled on the former, resolving never to audibly mumble to music ever again.

“I mean it!” Magnus declared. “You should take singing lessons, maybe learn an instrument too. It would be good for you!”

Alec seemed taken aback by the genuine recommendation, and refused to humor it despite Magnus’ repeated attempts to reason with him. Apparently, shadowhunters didn’t have time for creative endeavors.

4pm

Alec’s legs protested stiffly as he stretched them out of the car. This was by far the longest he had ever driven, and his iratze did not seem inclined to help him out. He recalled Magnus’ words the day before, about his iratze only being able to assist him so much after their borderline magical meltdown. On the other side of the car, Magnus sighed, leaning against the metal frame.

“I’m starving,” he said. “What do you say we grab something small here to hold us over, then start looking for somewhere to eat?”

“Let’s see what they have here, first,” Alec answered noncommittally. He still wanted to push through this mission in one day, get it done with.

“Nothing good,” Magnus grumbled.

A bright, chipper bell noise rang out as Alec pushed past the door of the gas station’s convenience store with Magnus in tow, the sound entirely too cheerful for the establishment. The tiled floor might have once been white with black speckles, but even that visually chaotic pattern could not hide the thin layer of grime that tracked in and out from the shoes of every tired trucker who had ever set foot here, staining it instead an off-white, beige color. The smell of stale bread and old cigarettes hovered in the air.

Alec, somehow immune to the ambiance, meandered down the aisles with purpose, and Magnus realized he must be looking for something specific. The warlock followed, doing his best not to breathe, or to touch anything. When the shadowhunter approached the counter, he placed down a bag of Doritos, a pack of Little Debbie’s Zebra Cakes, and a bottle of Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper.

Magnus’ face scrunched up in horror at the selection.

“Magnus, you getting anything?”

The warlock jumped, realizing Alec had been speaking to him. He slid his bag of almonds and bottled iced coffee onto the counter. It took him until they were walking out to realize Alec had paid for both of them.

“You didn’t need to pay for me,” he commented, unaccustomed to the experience. His cheeks felt a bit warm.

Alec shrugged. “Why not? It was just a couple of bucks.”

“Oh. Well… thanks.”

“It’s disgusting convenience store food, Magnus. If you want to thank me for anything, let me actually treat you to dinner sometime.” Alec swung himself into the passenger’s seat as he spoke, his easygoing conviction on the topic startling Magnus again. The warmth on the warlock’s cheeks spread through to his chest.

Someone else, treat him to dinner? Now that was a new experience.

“I’d like that,” he answered once he’d settled himself into the driver’s side, unsure what else to say. Accepting gifts, or even offers of them, was not one of his strong suits. The mention of the unpalatability of the snacks brought his previous thoughts back to his attention. “On an unrelated note,” he added, “what the hell are you putting in your mouth?”

Alec had opened the Zebra Cakes and devoured one already, eyes closed as he leaned back against the headrest. His unashamed enjoyment of the strangely-shaped junk food was simultaneously objectionably vile and one of the sexiest things Magnus had ever seen.

“I never get to have this stuff at the Institute,” Alec explained, devouring the other cake. “It’s somehow so disgusting, and so delicious at exactly the same time.” He seemed baffled at his own confused enjoyment. Watching him lick his fingers, Magnus thought he understood the feeling, just a little bit.

5pm

Alec caught himself dozing in the passenger seat, jerking his eyes open and back toward the road. He sat up, eyes scanning their surroundings then settling on Magnus, who shot him a subtle, witting smirk.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbled. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Magnus’ eyes returned to the road, but the smirk remained. Alec braced himself for a comment he would probably disapprove of, which the warlock promptly delivered. “I could get used to your adorable little snores.”

“Hey,” Alec groused, shooting him a warning glare. “I don’t snore.”

Magnus leaned back against the headrest, his eyes fluttering closed just enough that Alec feared for their safety as a soft, mocking rumble escaped his throat.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” Alec demanded. “You know, if a car crash happens, senior citizens are 573 percent more likely to die in it than the rest of the population.”

Magnus blinked, startled by the sudden statistic. “Percent?”

“Yes, percent, ” Alec confirmed. Magnus contemplated this very large number.

“Wait…” he started, indignance creeping into his tone. “Did you google that fact just so you could sit on it until the perfect moment to poke fun at me?”

“You are 800 years old,” Alec answered. “If anyone should be aware of the risks of elderly driving, it’s you.” Magnus shot the shadowhunter an incredulous glance, confused by his serious tone, only to find Alec struggling to hold back what he could only describe as a shit-eating grin.

“You’re such an ass.” Despite his harsh words, Magnus dissolved into giggles. “Really, how long were you holding on to that one?”

Alec checked the time on his phone. “One hour and forty-three minutes.”

Now they were both laughing.

“Do you normally plan your conversations this far ahead?” he managed.

“When possible,” Alec confessed. He stretched in his seat, earning another quick glance from the warlock. He milked it, drawing the stretch out. “I don’t understand why I’m so exhausted. All we’ve done is sit.”

Magnus fixed his gaze on the shadowhunter’s lean, muscular frame as long as he could while still safely operating the vehicle.

“Well, part of that is just that long drives are exhausting,” he pointed out. “But you have to remember that it was only a day ago that both of us were almost completely drained by a massive spell, Alexander. We’re still recovering. Iratze and potions aside, no one can come back from nearly dying that quickly. Not even a shadowhunter at the peak of his prime.” He drew the last words out, letting them linger as his eyes washed over Alec’s body once more.

“It’s a very strange feeling,” Alec admitted. “It’s like I’m completely awake, but just… weary. Like someone could charge me right now and I’d just let them, even though I don’t feel tired.”

Magnus nodded knowingly. “You would have been especially affected, I think. You’re not accustomed to experiencing anything like magical drain. I’m really very serious when I recommend that we stop for dinner and find some place to sleep for the night before we go looking for trouble. If we had a place to set up, I could do some more complicated spells to locate my property—ones that would not alert Mellie to my snooping. And then we could get up early and investigate first thing, fully rested and prepared for a fight.”

Alec could not deny the wisdom of the warlock’s words. He mulled it over, weighing the pros and cons of possibly encountering a powerful warlock—maybe even multiple—in his current state. Eventually, the fatigued ache in his lower back made the decision for him.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Magnus sighed. “My back is killing me. I am a senior citizen, after all.”

Alec snorted.

6pm

Alec watched with tranquil rapture as a fiery rainbow of autumn-leaved trees flew past the passenger window. They lined both sides of the narrow, two-lane road, crowding in the street. The array of colors enchanted him. The Keweenaw was nothing like New York City, or even Idris. Stark against the overcast sky, every single leaf demanded his attention, and he found he was happy to oblige.

I wish the whole drive was like this, he thought. Beside him, Magnus emitted a sound between a gasp and a laugh.

“What?” Alec asked, wondering if he had unintentionally said something out loud.

“That,” Magnus said, eyes fixed ahead on something in the distance.

Up ahead, a green directional sign loomed towards them, the letters coming into focus.

Gay, it read.

“... what?” Alec repeated, his tone now much less curious, and much more suspicious. “Magnus, what the hell is that?”

The sign flew by, and Alec’s head turned to follow it, as if staring at it might offer him some clarity. The waning sunlight winked playfully off the sign’s silver back, as if to taunt him.

“Gay is actually a fairly common name for roads and places,” Magnus chuckled. “I assume we’re about to enter Gay, Michigan.”

“Is this a joke?” Alec had gone still, his voice lowering. Magnus caught the subtle resonance of panic in his tone. It only served to push the warlock further over the edge. He had difficulty containing his giggles.

“I swear to all of the gods I’ve ever worshipped, Alexander, I had no idea.” Magnus held a hand to his mouth, as if covering his laughter would somehow hide it. His eyes crinkled at the edges.

“This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s hilarious.”

Alec did not find anything about this hilarious.

“Do you think they have a hotel?” Magnus wondered aloud. “This is just about the right area.”

“No,” Alec responded immediately, using his authoritative, no-nonsense voice that Magnus found so charming. “That is not happening.” His expression remained completely deadpan, though Magnus thought he looked a bit paler than usual.

“You have to admit,” Magnus pressed, still tittering. “It’s a little funny.”

“No,” Alec repeated. He crossed his arms, returning his gaze to the passenger side window. Magnus had the feeling he was deliberately avoiding eye contact, as he often did when he got uncomfortable. Especially when the topic of his sexuality came up.

The road narrowed at a street sign labeled 1st St , which almost immediately ended and became Lake St as it bore left. Only a single row of houses lined the left side of the street. On the right, an empty field stretched out and eventually gave way to Lake Superior, shimmering in the distance. Ahead, a tall, thin tower loomed over the town from the coastline. Alec wondered what it was, but had no time to speculate—Magnus was slowing down the car.

“What are you doing?” Alec demanded.

“There’s a restaurant,” Magnus pointed out. “You agreed we should stop for dinner. I like small places like this.” He struggled to keep his voice even.

“But why here?” Alec fretted. “We can wait another twenty minutes.”

“Oh, come on,” Magnus chuckled. “What are you so afraid of?”

He pulled onto the gravel lot surrounding the establishment, clearly reveling in Alec’s discomfort. The building before them looked much like a large house, with two blue gables capping off the roof. The rest of the wooden siding was a warm, neutral shade that Alec judged to be a murky yet definitive pink. In front of the car, the aged welcome sign spelled out a name in ornate, fading letters— Gay Bar & Grill .

“No,” Alec said again. “Magnus, no.” The second time sounded like begging.

I could get on board with begging, Magnus reflected, his devilish grin widening.

“I don’t see what your issue is, Alexander. This seems like a perfectly nice town. Let’s go in and have a burger, maybe a beer, and then we’ll find a place to stay.”

“I refuse,” Alec reiterated, enunciating each syllable. When Magnus did not make any move to restart the car, Alec doubled down. “I swear to the angel if you don’t put us back on the road this instant, I will come over there and do it myself.”

Alec finally made eye contact with this statement, his countenance stern. Magnus giggled, still unable to do anything but grin at the shadowhunter’s misery. The utter seriousness of Alec’s expression sent him to pieces. He tried to turn the key to restart the engine, but his hand had gone weak from laughing, and he found himself instead leaning his forehead against the steering wheel, shoulders shaking.

“Magnus!” Alec exclaimed, a mix of outrage and amusement coloring his tone. Now even he could not resist the contagion of giggles. “Magnus, I’m serious.” His voice faltered, betraying the sentiments of his words, strained in his attempt not to let the laughter get ahold of him. “I’m serious! I’ll… I swear I’ll pull you out of the car and leave you here.”

Tears prickled the corners of Magnus’ eyes. “Please, Alexander, we have to go in,” he chirruped.

“It’s not happening. I swear it, Magnus.”

Finally, Alec leaned over the warlock and released his seatbelt, swinging the driver’s side door open with his long reach. He grumbled as he shoved against Magnus’ shoulder, as if to push him out of the car.

“ You eat here if you want to so badly, and I’ll go on to look for Melusine by myself , right now. With any amount of fortune, she’ll kill me so I’ll never have to mention this god-forsaken place in my reports.” He paused between every few words to shove him, making a show of attempting to force the warlock from his seat, but never fully displacing him. Magnus slid one foot out of the car, using it to brace himself against Alec’s assault.

Magnus lost his composure again, swatting Alec’s palms away and closing the door as he readjusted his position.

“Okay, Alexander, okay, fine!” He drawled out the words through his laughter. “Onward we go.”

They pulled back out onto the road, car bumping as it returned to the asphalt.

“I hate you,” Alec muttered.

“No you don’t,” Magnus replied, his voice silky smooth. He shot Alec a flirty wink.

“... No, I don’t,” Alec grumbled. He slid down low in his seat, a map of the Keweenaw Peninsula open on his phone covered with a smattering of pin points. “There’s a place an hour north of here, a lodge and restaurant. It’s got 4.5 stars on this stupid app you made me download. Can you live with that?”

“Yes,” Magnus smirked, “I can live with that.” He promised himself he would portal both of them back here for dinner one day, when Alec least suspected it.

Chapter Text

The Copper Harbor Lodge glimmered on the coastline, golden lights illuminated already in preparation for the approaching sunset. A wall of warmth curled over Alec and Magnus as they wandered in from the chilly air outside. Magnus sighed, breathing in the cozy ambiance of fresh cut logs and spiced candles.

“Wow,” Alec mumbled under his breath. Magnus suspected that the shadowhunter had never stayed in such a swanky establishment before—discounting his own residence, of course. The hunting lodge chic created a more comfortable, casual environment than Magnus was accustomed to, but it seemed to be a happy compromise between his luxurious preferences and the shadowhunter’s more practical needs. Any fancier, and Alec would be scared off. The last thing Magnus wanted was to push the shadowhunter so far that he bailed out and booked them in some shady motel off the Interstate.

“Gentlemen, how may I help you this evening?” The middle-aged, ginger man behind the countertop sported a brown woolen vest over a grey gingham shirt, accented with a deep brown tie. It was at once earthy and elegant, and combined with his neatly-trimmed beard required only the addition of a dorky hat to level him up to full hipster status. However, Magnus had the feeling that this man had been donning this particular suit since long before the hordes of millennials descended upon the gentrifying Northwestern US.

Magnus lingered toward the center of the lobby, examining an assortment of pinecones and autumn leaves arranged in a basin while he eavesdropped from afar as Alec asked about the available rooms.

“Of course. We have plenty of openings tonight. Peak colors aren’t for another couple of weeks. Are you interested in a room in the main hall, or a cabin?”

A cabin? Magnus’ interest piqued. Clearly, Alec’s expression betrayed the same sentiments, because the freckled man elaborated.

“In addition to the more traditional rooms in this building, we have several detached cabins available throughout the property. All of them are nestled between some of our most vibrant trees, with incredible views of the lake below. They’re quite the experience, if I may say so myself. The perfect balance of tranquil isolation and convenient access to our many amenities.”

“That sounds perfect,” Alec concluded, offering a card. His no-nonsense tone told Magnus that unlike the warlock, Alec came to that decision for purely utilitarian purposes—a separate cabin made their task much easier, distancing them from nosy mundanes and giving them more space to work with for Magnus’ spells. After a few minutes of processing, their host ducked out from under the counter with an old key ring in hand, jingling with antique iron. Magnus had to stop himself from snorting. At this point the rustic aesthetic was almost tacky.

“Right this way,” the man beckoned. He strolled through the door, returning them to the crisp early Autumn temperatures outside. Halfway down the path he paused, turning back to them. “Apologies,” he started, “but I forgot to ask. Did you want two doubles, or… a king?” He glanced between them hesitantly, finally settling his gaze on Alec, since Alec had lead the conversation thus far.

Magnus’ eyes fell immediately to his shoes, his chest tightening. Normally, he had no qualms about loudly proclaiming his proclivities world, but with Alec, he could not help but tense up. Despite his agreement to let Alec keep their dalliance a secret for the moment, he knew it would still hurt a bit every time such a suggestion drove the shadowhunter into stuttering denial. Sometimes the warlock wondered which aspect of him made Alec more ashamed—the fact that Magnus was a downworlder, or just that he was a man?

Beside him, Alec’s faltering answer began right on cue. Magnus kept himself squarely out of it, paying special attention to a particular gravel stone in front of his right foot.

“Oh, I mean, we’re—we’re really just…” Alec trailed off. “... what’s the difference between them, otherwise?”

The stalling stressed Magnus out. Just take the doubles and move on, Alexander. We’ve already had this fight.

“None at all. I’ve already rung you up—the cabins are all the same price, it’s just a matter of which you prefer. They all have the same amenities,” the ginger man assured. He spoke quickly, seemingly aware he might have stumbled upon a sensitive topic, but too far in to have any way to politely back out.

Alec paused again. Magnus was just about to speak up and save them both the awkwardness when the shadowhunter’s voice interrupted his spiral of self-pity.

“The King, then.”

Magnus’ eyes shot up, his gaze finding Alec’s already fixed on him. The shadowhunter spoke with decisive certainty, like an actor who finally connected with his role for the first time. He kept his hands shoved shyly in his pockets, flashing Magnus the barest glimpse of his signature crooked smile. Magnus’ stomach flip-flopped.

Their host smiled warmly. Neither of them noticed.

“Of course,” he answered, visibly relaxing now that he knew his question had not offended anyone. “Right this way. You know, last year we were voted as having the most romantic views on the Keweenaw. Just wait until you see the lake down below. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

When they proceeded down the path, Alec’s pinky brushed Magnus’. A soft smile warmed Magnus’ cheeks, his heart fluttering.

Amber and scarlet trees parted branches to reveal a compact, dark-wood cabin, a cobblestone chimney standing tall on one side. A narrow porch wrapped around the back, drawing their eyes to the open space behind it, where the ground fell away sharply and plunged into the rippling waves below. The structure itself reminded Magnus much of Thomas Kinkade’s “A Peaceful Retreat,” a comparison he was loathe to make aloud as it would require admitting his passing familiarity with such a painfully disappointing artist.

Magnus let out a low whistle, swallowing his initial flustered response to Alec’s public admission of sleeping arrangements.

“You weren’t kidding about those views,” the warlock admired.

“It really is breathtaking,” the man agreed. He slipped a single key off of the ring, which clattered like a cheap wind chime with every movement, and unlocked the door for them. “The restaurant is open until nine, but room service is twenty-four hours if you’d rather not make the walk back down. Here’s your key.” He dropped the aforementioned key in Alec’s outstretched palm. “You gentlemen have a wonderful night. And if you need anything, you can drop by the main hall or use the phone on your nightstand to speak to the front desk.”

Just like that, Magnus was alone with Alec in a private cabin, surrounded by one of the most gorgeous, flame-hued Autumn forests on the continent. To their right, the grey-stone fireplace completed the chimney they had observed outside. To the left, a carved wooden frame lined a luxurious king bed, blanketed in fluffy comforters and sheets of varying shades of brown, sienna, and scarlet, reflecting the cabin’s clear theme of a rustic Autumnal getaway.

The door closed behind them with a resounding thud, heavy oak offering a satisfying weight to the sound. They stood in silence, each waiting for the other to move. Magnus ached to kiss Alec—to shove him back onto that heavy oak door and have him right there against it. He got the distinct feeling that both of them wanted such an outcome very much, but knew they had more important responsibilities to attend to, and each waited for the other to be the responsible party and get to work. Finally, Alec spoke.

“Is that okay?” he faltered. “That I asked for this room? I wanted to try to be more… relaxed. About this.” The tension evaporated, enchanted silence broken as Alec motioned between them. “I know it’s just some stranger in Michigan, but I thought it might at least be a first step. Maybe I can get there… eventually.”

Magnus adored the hopeful wideness of Alec’s eyes, the way his eyebrows knitted together like he worried Magnus might say no.

He cares about what I feel, Magnus thought. He’s trying. And though he knew that should be the bare minimum requirement in a relationship, it still warmed his heart, because most people did not. Because in almost all of his previous relationships, Magnus had always felt like the caretaker—constantly tailoring himself to the needs of others—and here was this amazing person in front of him doing his best to tackle his deeply-ingrained lifelong fears just because Magnus asked him to.

All I needed to do was ask.

“It’s more than okay, Alexander. I think it’s a great first step, and I appreciate it a lot.”

The shadowhunter visibly relaxed, releasing the breath he had been holding.

“So, what do you need? For your spells?”

“I’ve got all I need right here,” Magnus declared, waving his hand over the cabin’s sturdy wooden table against the opposite wall. An assortment of ingredients materialized before them. In the same fluid, wild motion, he flicked a wrist toward the cobblestone hearth, igniting a warm, inviting fire. Alec smiled, pleased as always by Magnus’ unnecessarily extraordinary displays of power.

“Alright then—if you’re all set, I’ll be right back.” Alec stepped out into the leaf-strewn grass, seeking out their borrowed car. When he returned, cream-colored folder in hand, Magnus froze from his preparations and emitted a loud, eye-rolling sigh.

“What?” Alec asked, already offended.

“Alexander, only you could manage to find time to do paperwork at a time like this. Did you have that nice Rosie lady print them out for you, just in case you had some free time you didn’t want to take advantage of?” The warlock seated himself on the soft, faux fur rug that covered the hardwood floor, surrounded by his assortment of tiny bowls and crystals.

“Hey, it needs to be done eventually,” Alec defended. “What else am I supposed to do while you’re occupied?” He crossed the cabin, seating himself at the table behind Magnus, facing the fireplace. Magnus paused at that, considering the implication that if he were not occupied, Alec might have something better to do. Or, perhaps, someone . His eyes darted to the bed, then to Alec, who blushed bright red upon realizing what he had said and dropped his eyes very quickly to reports before him.

“I mean,” he stuttered, “what else would I take advantage of?” He stopped short again, his blush reaching comical extremes. “I mean—you know what? You know what I mean. Ok? I have to be responsible.”

Magnus grinned. “Oh, I most certainly do. You know, you could always watch and enjoy the show,” he teased. With practiced timing, he snapped his fingers, his shirt dissolving away in a rather theatrical display of blue sparks. “Though I’m sure your paperwork is much more entertaining.” Behind him, he heard Alec drop his pen, sending it clattering to the floor. The shadowhunter retrieved it wordlessly, and the cabin fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the scratching of Alec’s writing, the hum of Magnus’ magic as he finally settled into the monotonous routine of his meditative spellwork, and the crackling of the flames in the cobblestone hearth.

Chapter Text

Sweat glistened across Magnus’ bare chest, shimmering in the firelight. He had long abandoned most of his clothes, sitting cross-legged in a pair of loose-fitting, black plaid pajama pants. The sounds of the cabin faded into his consciousness as he completed his final spell—the roaring fireplace, his and Alec’s quiet breaths. One sound from earlier remained conspicuously absent—he no longer heard the irregular scrape of Alec’s pen against paper. Eyes still closed, he inhaled a deep, centering breath, bringing himself fully back to present moment after over an hour of intense concentration.

“There. Now the components just need to sit until dawn. Finish your reports, Mr. Responsible?” Magnus asked, finally opening his eyes. Through the windows, the world outside had faded into almost complete darkness. Behind Magnus, Alec responded, voice quiet, as if he had been completely enraptured in something and still only half paid attention to Magnus’ words.

“No,” he answered. “They can wait until I get back.”

Magnus twisted around, curious to discover what had the shadowhunter so preoccupied. He found Alec leaning back in his chair, facing Magnus, one leg crossed loosely over the other as his eyes followed the warlock’s every move. Alec’s normally icy azure irises appeared darker, thinned by his dilated pupils.

Has he just been… watching me?

“I decided to take your advice,” Alec explained, unmoving, a prurient smile parting his lips ever so slightly. A mini surge of adrenaline flooded Magnus’ veins. He suddenly felt very warm. The flames in the hearth lowered themselves in response to Magnus’ thought, embers flickering. The dimmer lighting cast the cabin in the hushed, dreamlike glow of twilight.

“What advice was that?” Magnus asked, mind scrambling to remember the most recent of the many half-joking suggestions he might have given the shadowhunter. His throat felt dry, conscious that Alec had been staring at him that way for gods know how long, watching him work in his half-clothed state. Magnus pushed himself to his feet, stretching his stiff muscles. Alec bit his lip, then his mouth curved down into a disappointed frown when Magnus conjured a loose cotton shirt over his torso.

Since when am I self-conscious? Magnus questioned silently. But it wasn’t himself he had on his mind—it was Alec. He felt unaccustomed to the longing way in which the shadowhunter stared at him—normally he was the one doing the unabashed staring. Magnus always played the role of the pursuer, and now Alec’s body language placed the warlock squarely into the role of the pursued. Magnus did not know how to act.

Alec blushed slightly, eyes falling to the floor, bringing them back into territory that Magnus was more familiar with. But despite his shyness, the shadowhunter answered his question honestly.

“To enjoy the show,” Alec murmured. He raised his eyes again to meet Magnus’, his head lowered in a way that Magnus had done to him very deliberately many times before, gazing up at him through his eyelashes. Heat coursed through Magnus’ body.

He doesn’t even wear eyeliner, it’s not fair how good he looks doing that. How dare he steal my moves? Magnus wondered if Alec did this to him on purpose, or if it was an accidental byproduct of his shy floor-staring moments before. Alec’s clear expression of desire threw Magnus for a loop, left him struggling to keep his thoughts in order.

“I should… take a shower,” Magnus faltered.

Stupid! The boy is trying to make a move! Don’t reject him! But Magnus found his feet calmly fleeing one step at a time toward the bathroom regardless, unable to form any other coherent thought in his flustered mind. He had settled into a steady rhythm of teasing and instigation toward Alec in the past few weeks. But in this moment, Alec had no buttons to be pressed. He had seized control while Magnus was focused on other things, choosing to take Magnus’ instigation in stride instead of nervously brushing it away, and it caught the warlock off guard.

As Magnus reached for the handle to the tiny ensuite, the whisper of Alec’s footsteps followed him. Alec spoke with more hesitance now, unsure if his advances were welcome.

“Do you want me to join you?”

Hell yes, Magnus thought, finally getting ahold of himself. This might be the hottest thing you’ve ever done, if unexpected. He spun around to say just that, intent on stealing back his rightful place as the confident one in the room, but startled when he realized just how close Alec stood. Magnus leaned back against the still closed door, staring yearningly at Alec’s tall frame and beautiful, questioning eyes.

It felt so good, he realized. That was what threw him off. He had forgotten how incredibly exhilarating it was to feel wanted —not just wanted after aggressively provoking and pursuing someone, but just wanted, full stop. Wanted after minding his own business in silence for an hour, wanted after walking around in ratty pajama pants and an old cotton shirt, wanted when he was sweaty and gross after a seven hour car ride, and wanted after having done nothing himself to provoke such a response. Alec wanted Magnus.

Magnus wanted Alec.

“Kiss me?” Magnus requested quietly, head tilted back.

Alec did not need to be told twice. Magnus stood on his toes to meet him halfway, impatient to release the tension that had been building inside him, entirely of Alec’s doing. Despite Magnus’ display of keen ardence, Alec’s kiss remained steady and slow. It was delicious torture, leaving Magnus squirming under him after barely a minute. Magnus wrapped his arms up around Alec’s neck, and the shadowhunter planted his hands on either side of him against the door, shower forgotten.

Magnus nibbled at Alec’s bottom lip, drawing out a quiet moan. One of Alec’s hands dropped from the wall to Magnus’ waist, fingers dancing up underneath the hem of his shirt to hold him tightly. Magnus drew his breath in sharply at the touch, arching his back. Alec’s other hand, still against the door, slid upward, allowing him to drop against his elbow and trap Magnus more firmly against it—not that the warlock had any intention at all to attempt escape. Alec used his new position to his advantage, abandoning Magnus’ mouth to kiss at his jaw, tracing up toward his ear, grazing his teeth lightly across it. Magnus’ brief disappointment at the broken kiss was replaced with a rush of delectation.

Every attempt Magnus made at speeding up their contact into a heated frenzy was denied by Alec’s cool, slow insistence. Alec planted a kiss in the soft spot just below Magnus ear, then one below that, then one below that. His lips wandered down Magnus’ neck to his collarbone, which peeked out just above the neck of his summoned shirt. Both of Alec’s hands now held Magnus tightly underneath that shirt, in the soft spot above his hips, fingers cool against the hotness of the warlock’s skin. Magnus pressed his hips forwards, into Alec’s body, trying to drive the shadowhunter into a faster, more desperate rhythm. His attempts had no effect, save for a gratified smile that Magnus could not see, but could feel in the lips against his neck as Alec continued with his delightful torment.

After several more of these unsuccessful endeavors from Magnus, Alec pulled back, leaving a cool emptiness across Magnus’ whole body that the warlock found himself desperate to fill again. Alec ran the tip of his index finger over the warlock’s lips, a tender way to still his movements that Magnus had used on him many times before. Magnus ceased his efforts to follow Alec’s retreat, waiting as patiently as he could, eyes fixed on the shadowhunter’s. Alec’s expression was soft, and full of desire.

“I want to go slowly this time,” he whispered, eyes falling back down to Magnus’ lips. Magnus’ heart dithered in his chest, alive with electric energy at Alec’s sureness, how he so confidently stated his intentions. Was this what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Magnus’ own forward confidence? He could not imagine so—with Alec in charge it must be different, because it was so much more rare.

Magnus nodded slowly, distracted by the way his lips brushed over Alec’s fingertip when he did so. He redirected his attention there, transforming the motion into a kiss, taking Alec’s hand in his and bringing each digit to his lips one by one. Alec waited for him to finish, breath hitching, before dropping his hand back to the bottom of Magnus' shirt.

“There was really no reason to put this on,” the shadowhunter murmured. He traced his fingers along Magnus’ spine, then across the backs of his ribs, before lifting the shirt up over his head. Magnus raised his arms cooperatively, standing up from his spot against the wall to assist in Alec’s removal of his clothing. Alec tossed the shirt over his shoulder, then ran his hands appreciatively over Magnus’ chest, which had cooled down enough since his spellwork that it no longer shone with perspiration. Magnus had a feeling that would change very shortly.

Now standing apart from the wall, Magnus realized he felt unsteady, almost trembling. He followed obediently as Alec directed him with a slight tug toward the bed, still unaccustomed to being told what to do. His stomach knotted in excitement. When Alec pushed him against the mattress, indicating his desire for Magnus to sit, the warlock paused.

“This hardly seems fair,” he pointed out weakly. “You still have all of your clothes on, even your shoes.”

Alec stopped, tilting his head. “Good point.”

He stepped away from the bed, kicking his boots off near the door, and abandoning his light jacket on the coat hooks next to it. He tugged off his socks, too, leaving him barefoot like Magnus. Now in his plain black crew neck and black jeans—the Alec Lightwood standard issue uniform—he stepped back over to the bedside, where Magnus sat waiting, bare toes planted in the soft rug below.

Alec cupped Magnus’ face in his hand, leaning down to kiss him. Magnus had to catch his weight on his hands behind himself to keep from falling backwards. Alec pulled away just enough to speak, his breath tumbling over Magnus’ lips as he spoke, still holding the warlock’s face.

“A little help?” He requested softly. He ran a hand down one of Magnus’ arms, lingering on the curves of his muscles, then entangled their fingers and drew the warlock’s touch to the hem of his own shirt.

“Alexander,” Magnus sighed through his pleased smile, “I never thought I’d see the day when I finally got you to ask me to undress you.” Alec smiled too, fetching Magnus’ other hand and placing it on his opposite side, shifting the balance of their bodies back toward his standing form, leaning over the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t think I was asking,” he answered between kisses, his words skimming across Magnus’ lips.

Magnus’ brain melted approximately halfway through that sentence. He crumpled the bottom of Alec’s shirt tightly in his fists, using it to yank him forward again. He thought he heard the tiny, protesting sound of a thread tearing in the hem, but he didn’t care. The shadowhunter loomed over him, whole body pressed into the place where Magnus’ legs parted. Alec wove his fingers through Magnus’ hair, using it as leverage to tilt the warlock’s head backwards for another kiss, then more so to nip at his neck. Magnus broke the kisses with Alec’s shirt between them, pulling it upward over his head as requested—or demanded, it would seem.

With both of their shirts discarded, Magnus tried to take the lead again, dropping his hands to Alec’s belt buckle, which he decided had personally offended him with its presence. But Alec sided himself with the buckle, grabbing Magnus’ persistent fingers and tearing them away, and shoving Magnus roughly back into the blankets as if to remind him who was in charge at that specific moment.

Magnus had to take a second to reorient himself, and found he was sprawled diagonally across the King-sized mattress, Alec’s body draped over his, one of the shadowhunter’s large, powerful hands holding both of his pinned firmly into the pillows above his head. He gasped and squirmed, testing Alec’s grip, and found it immovable. Alec lowered himself to Magnus’ chest, kissing his way across it. One of Alec’s legs—Magnus was held in place much too firmly to be able to check which—brushed against the tent that formed under Magnus’ plaid pajama pants, the brief ghost of a touch sparking a new wave of thrilling agony that deliquesced into radiating pleasure when Alec’s tongue flicked over his nipple.

Alec was barely touching him, his movements quiet and deliberate, his pace unhurried. It drove Magnus wild. When Magnus arched his back, silently begging for more, Alec complied. He released Magnus’ wrists, sliding lower to kiss his way across the warlock’s abs. Magnus gripped Alec’s hair, soliciting a rough moan when he pulled just hard enough, struggling not to hold Alec’s head too tightly as the shadowhunter kissed one of his lower ribs, then began moving toward the center, on a winding path toward Magnus’ navel. Magnus lifted his hips off the mattress, still pulling at Alec’s hair. Alec took advantage of the opening, sliding one hand around to hold Magnus' leg, just underneath his ass. His fingers stretched around,  brushing tantalizingly against the warlock’s inner thigh, separated from Magnus’ skin by the thin, desperately unwanted barrier of his pants.

“Please,” Magnus gasped, surprising even himself. Alec’s mouth had been busy at work leaving a sizable hickey to the left of his navel, above the same leg that the shadowhunter had seized control of. Alec kissed the bruise, then held Magnus firmly, grip on his thigh tightening, as he shifted to kiss the sensitive spot just above the center of the waistband of his pants. Magnus watched the kiss approaching, his grip on Alec’s hair tightening along with his abdominal muscles in anticipation. His breath caught. As Alec lowered himself down, his eyes flicked upward to connect with Magnus’, holding his gaze. Magnus couldn’t breathe, some part of himself completely absorbed in the way Alec moved over him, the way Alec stared at him like he could never experience enough of Magnus’ writhing—like he wanted him, badly.

Alec’s lips brushed across that sensitive spot, eyes locked with Magnus’. When his teeth joined the exploration, a very embarrassing sound escaped Magnus as he let his head fall back into the pillows, relishing the way Alec could destroy him with nothing but touches and kisses, without even fully undressing him. Something in Magnus’ mind crumbled, leaving him feeling raw, and naked, and bare.

My glamour, he realized. His moaning cut off, hands flying up to shield his face over his closed eyes. Alec froze, watching him curiously for a second before sitting up and removing himself entirely.

“Magnus?” he asked. “Are you okay?” Magnus felt the weight on the bed shift as Alec sat next to him, carefully touching his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny flutter of appreciation danced through his heart at how quickly Alec dissipated the sexual intensity of the moment, immediately focused on Magnus’ well-being.

How can his attention bring me both such joy and such frustration? Magnus thought, wondering how he could get out of this situation. He found himself unable to resurrect the broken glamour, his body still tight with sexual tension despite the dramatic mood shift.

“Magnus?” Worry clouded Alec’s voice.

Magnus sighed, removing his hands from his face to help him sit up while keeping his eyes firmly shut.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… I lost control a bit. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

By his tone, Alec seemed taken aback. “Why would that be a problem? I mean… it’s kind of what I was going for. I’m glad you were enjoying yourself.” The shadowhunter’s voice trailed off as he re-thought his statement. “Were you… enjoying yourself? I mean, was that okay?”

Magnus smiled, biting his lip. He sat cross-legged. “Yes,” he answered. “I was definitely enjoying myself. A bit too much, I guess. I’m sorry.” He found Alec’s knee with one hand, squeezing it to reassure him.

“Too much?” Now Alec seemed really confused, trying hard to follow Magnus’ meaning. “Magnus, why would you be sorry for enjoying yourself… too much?”

Magnus hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck. The glamour was not coming back. Time to be out with it.

“I just… I lost control of my magic. My glamour,” he admitted. Heat rushed to his face—a much less pleasant heat than that from moments before.

“Your… “ Alec trailed off. Sometimes he took a moment to contemplate his words, even in the middle of sentences. Magnus found it endearing, but his anxiety prevented him from appreciating it in this exact moment.

“Magnus,” Alec picked back up. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be worried about that around me.” His voice was gentle, honest. He covered Magnus’ hand on his knee with is own, the firm heaviness surprisingly soothing.

Magnus leaned forward, considering asking Alec to leave for a minute so he could regain his composure. The barest hints of embarrassed tears prickled hotly behind his eyes.

To hell with it, he thought. I’ve already ruined the moment, might as well dive right into ruining everything. Nothing turns a guy on like freaky yellow demon eyes.

He reluctantly lifted his eyelids. He saw Alec’s knee beside his, the shadowhunter’s pose mirroring his own. His heart hammered as he raised his gaze to meet Alec’s, golden eyes red-rimmed and wide.

Chapter Text

Alec lowered his head to catch Magnus’ eyes as the warlock cautiously raised his gaze.

Memories, distant though they occurred only several short weeks before, crowded their way to the surface of Alec’s mind. Shimmering gold in an alley of shadows. His own breath, stolen from his lungs, captivated. Vibrant fireflies and luminous magic.

He felt the same awe and admiration now, lost in the breathtaking beauty before him.

Alec found a painful familiarity in the uncertain fear he found in the warlock’s eyes. Perhaps he had not been the only one afraid to reveal certain parts of himself to the world at large.

How dare anyone ever make him feel ashamed of who he is? How could he hide such a beautiful and important part of himself? The thought hit Alec like a punch in the gut. He knew he could turn the same lesson inward.

He raised his free hand to Magnus’ face, stroking his cheek. Narrow pupils stared back at him—wary, brilliant irises reflecting the firelight in a rippling sheen. Head ducked, as if he was afraid to fully face him, Magnus reminded Alec succinctly of a shy street cat—the gentle, guarded kind who remembered a time when he could trust people, but long since learned better than to try.

His eyes—those breathtaking eyes—waited dubiously for a reaction. Alec could not bear another moment of seeing those eyes so reticent.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Magnus lifted his own hand, wrapping it around Alec’s. They sat like that, hands intertwined, one pair on Alec’s knee and the other on Magnus’ cheek, eyes searching each other. Alec stared, enraptured, as the warlock’s expression softened, and Magnus released a slow, shaky breath.

He’s perfect, Alec thought. How can everything about him be so perfect?

He struggled to find the right thing to say, afraid of scaring Magnus off in this fragile moment. Alec knew he had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, or worse, saying nothing at all at times when words mattered.

Unexpectedly, one phrase settled in the deepest recesses of his heart—a heavy, grounding rock of truth apart from the others. It warmed his chest and sent dazzling, longing sparks of energy to his fingertips. The realization washed over him like the echoes from the waves below the cabin. Alec was lost, tumbling, head over heels. He did not know when it happened, but he knew, at that moment, it was the truest thing in the world.

Wrong thing at the wrong time, he reminded himself, holding the words silently close to his heart.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Magnus asked, uncharacteristic shyness quieting his inquisitive tone. When he spoke, his cheek brushed softly across Alec’s palm.

Because I… 

“Because,” Alec answered, “You are perfect.” He brushed his thumb along the warlock’s jaw.

Magnus closed his eyes, sinking into the touch. He kissed the base of Alec’s wrist, sighing.

“I’m sorry for killing the mood,” he apologized. “If it makes you feel better, I think I ruined it just as much for myself as I did for you, if not more.”

“Ruined?” Alec asked quietly, now tracing his thumb over Magnus’ bottom lip. “Magnus, that’s not possible.”

The warlock’s eyes opened again, golden feline gaze searching his. His lips parted, reading the same desire there from earlier—yet even stronger now. Magnus’ breath hitched. He leaned in toward Alec, slowly, hesitantly.

Alec met him halfway, grazing his lips over Magnus’, then pulling away, then brushing against them once more. When Magnus leaned forward to follow his lips in their retreat, Alec kissed him more deeply, more fervently.

Magnus stood on his knees in a tentative attempt to push the shadowhunter backwards into the sheets. Alec complied to the push, but slid out from under him as he fell, spinning them so he landed on top. The warlock found himself once more between Alec’s strong, protective arms.

“You’re too good at this, Alexander. Are you sure I’m your first?” Magnus grinned, punctuating his words with kisses. The self-conscious hesitance from moments before melted away as Alec kissed his neck, sucking and biting and leaving a faint trail of small, dark hickeys.

“I’ve been learning from the best,” Alec mumbled into Magnus’ shoulder. His breath curled hotly back into his own face, and he felt his whole body react as a thin layer of sweat formed across his skin. He kissed his way back down to where he had left off, pausing again over Magnus’ waistband, and the sensitive spot just below his navel.

Alec’s kisses intensified, responding to the encouragement of Magnus’ vocalizations. Magnus’ reaction came as a deep, humming sigh. Alec provoked another chorus of soft moans with a careful nibble at Magnus’ hip bone, and the warlock melted like putty beneath him, his hands slack in Alec’s hair. It amazed Alec every time this happened, how something as simple as a kiss, or a bite, could send Magnus’ eyes rolling back in pleasure. His beautiful, golden eyes.

“You can’t keep doing that to me,” Magnus insisted weakly. “It’s cheating.”

“If you say so,” Alec responded. He pushed Magnus’ leg to the side—the one he had been holding so tightly before—and bit down on Magnus’ inner thigh through his flannel pants. Hard.

Magnus drew in a sharp breath and flinched, but the protest dissolved into another low moan as Alec trailed his lips upward.

“Fff…“

Magnus was speaking in consonants now. Alec could work with that. It was a good sign. Another good sign was the erection that had returned in full force underneath his pajamas.

“These need to go,” Alec said. Magnus raised his hips without missing a beat, and Alec slid the warlock’s pants off and onto the floor in one quick motion.

Alec ran his fingers gently over the spot where he had bitten, and Magnus shivered at the touch. His cock stood tall, twitching when Alec let his hands wander across the smooth skin of the warlock’s inner thighs.

Magnus shuddered, then gasped as Alec followed with his lips on the path his fingertips had traced. He circled back up to Magnus’ hip, then over to the other side, carefully touching every part of him except for his cock.

“Please,” Magnus whined.

“Please, what?” Alec pressed. “What do you want me to do, Magnus?” His own erection strained against his jeans. Seeing Magnus like this—back arched, toes curled—it drove him wild. Desires stirred up inside of him that he had never felt before. He wanted things he never expected to want.

He imagined himself, riding Magnus the way Magnus had ridden him their first time together. It wasn’t something he had ever pictured before—the logistics of it had always turned him off. It seemed uncomfortable, potentially humiliating if it went wrong, and not something he wanted to subject himself to. But with Magnus…

Magnus gripped his shoulder, fingernails digging red lines into his skin.

“Fuck, I don’t even know,” Magnus breathed.

With Magnus, Alec wanted to do everything.

He finally ran his tongue up Magnus’ cock, dragging the tip of it gingerly from the base all the way up to the head, barely touching him. Magnus balled the blankets into his fists, struggling to keep still. He held Magnus in place by his waist, reveling in the way the warlock failed to buck against his powerful grip.

“You drive me crazy,” Alec murmured, echoing Magnus’ thoughts.

 Alec took Magnus into his mouth. He pressed his tongue against the underside of his dick, eliciting a contented sigh, followed by another whine when he almost immediately abandoned the task and sat up.

“You’re a tease,” Magnus accused breathlessly.

“Sit up,” Alec ordered. His hands gripped Magnus’ calves and dragged him to the edge of the bed. The warlock sat up obediently, planting his feet in the soft faux fur on the floor, just as they had started.

“Much better,” Alec said. He caught Magnus in a deep kiss as he sank to his knees.

Magnus’ hands shook. The dizzying swirl of recent emotions left him lightheaded, and he couldn’t get enough of Alec’s lips on him, his hands on him, his teeth on him.

He thinks my eyes are beautiful.

Magnus’ eyes, which drove his own mother to such extremes to escape them. Magnus’ eyes, which inspired his stepfather to such cruelty. Magnus’ eyes—the parts of him that highlighted just how opposing the two men were by their very natures: one demonic, the other angelic. Magnus’ eyes, inherited from the Prince of Edom.

He thinks I’m perfect.

Every touch sent thrilling bursts of electricity across Magnus’ body. The way Alec kept Magnus constantly aroused, constantly aching for more, left the warlock hovering on the brink of bursting. If Alec kept this up, Magnus worried he would pass out, still trembling, the moment he came. His heart buzzed with each kiss, alive with energy and joy and acceptance and— Oh my gods this boy is on his knees.

When Alec kissed his way up Magnus’ leg, the warlock had to fight not to close his knees around Alec’s head. Then Alec was kissing his balls and licking him and Alec’s mouth was around him and— Fuck!

He looked down and Alec’s eyes were on his, and Magnus got the distinct feeling that something had changed between them—like Alec knew something he didn’t, some secret knowledge, beyond just the revelation of his mark, that fueled him and gave him the confidence to look Magnus straight in the eyes as he pleasured him. It was one of the most erotic things Magnus had ever experienced—this boy, once afraid to admit his feelings to even himself, now staring up at him unabashedly with his mouth around his cock. Alec’s strong hands pinned Magnus’ hips and thighs in place, and Magnus moaned every time his writhing caused the shadowhunter’s grip to tighten against him.

Tension built inside of him. Just like his kisses, Alec’s rhythm while giving head was calm, insistent, methodical. He rushed nothing. Magnus shifted and squirmed, fighting to increase the pace. His sensitivity soared to new heights, drawn to a peak by Alec’s quiet, gentle touch. Magnus leaned back on his hands, legs spread wide, struggling to maintain a shred of dignity while he gasped for breath. Goosebumps crawled along his skin, chilled by evaporating perspiration.

“Please,” Magnus begged, “faster.” He teetered on the precipice, so close. The sight before him—Alec, half-dressed, on his knees, watching Magnus with such open, honest devotion—it drove him wild. What good deed had he done to deserve this?

Magnus’ monosyllables had the desired effect. Alec obeyed, gradually increasing his tempo as tension coiled tighter and tighter within the warlock. His legs tensed up, pressing against Alec’s shoulders. He fought against the instinct to close his eyes as he reached his peak. He watched Alec, and Alec watched him, and the world around him disappeared. Nothing mattered but this moment, and the shadowhunter who loved his eyes, which shone amber in the fading light from the hearth.

Magnus’ legs trembled. He could not stop himself now—his knees closed in tighter, brushing against Alec’s ears.

“Alec, I’m going to come,” Magnus whimpered. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to sound out his full name, though he normally adored how it floated off his tongue. Most of his balance was on his hands now, and he used that to pull backwards, giving Alec space to switch to using his hands as he had the few previous times he had given Magnus head.

Alec did not switch to using his hands. He followed the warlock’s movements, slowing his rhythm and taking Magnus deeper into his mouth. The shadowhunter’s eyes drifted back upwards, locked with Magnus’, gauging his reaction to this small first between them. Magnus lost all coherence at that point, ceasing any attempts at speech altogether, adrift in the pressure of Alec’s tongue and heat of his mouth and the intensity of his eyes.

A satisfied “ Mmm” drifted up to Magnus from where the shadowhunter could taste him coming. He felt as if every muscle in his body contracted and stretched, quivering. At some point his weight had shifted from the bed to Alec’s shoulders, so when Alec moved, so did he. Alec held the warlock firmly in place as he gasped and shook.

When the waves of his orgasm passed, both of them were breathing heavily. Magnus slid himself back onto the bed, Alec’s hands guiding his still-quivering legs. Chest rising and falling in quick succession, Magnus fell onto the mattress, devoid of words. Alec pushed Magnus’ legs up, then slid him around so his head aligned properly with the pillows. The effort provoked a small huff of exertion from the exhausted shadowhunter, and both of them devolved into giddy giggles as Alec plopped down next to him.

Magnus turned to his side, mirroring Alec’s pose, and captured him in a kiss. He tasted like both of them, salty and sweaty and wonderful. Alec scooted himself closer to Magnus in response, aligning their bodies. The sensation of his leg meeting denim reminded Magnus that the shadowhunter still remained half clothed.

“These need to go,” Magnus teased, fondly repeating Alec’s earlier line as he toyed with the button of his jeans.

“Aren’t you tired?” Alec laughed, sounding justifiably impressed by the warlock’s eagerness, but also adorably distracted by the fingers drifting across his waistband.

“In the best way,” Magnus sighed. He leaned his head against Alec’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as it settled.

Alec’s stomach growled loudly into the contented silence, prompting another round of giggles from Magnus.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbled, blushing.

“Don’t be,” Magnus chortled. “I’m starving. The restaurant is closed, and I don’t feel like getting dressed. Room service?”

Alec nodded, and Magnus summoned the lodge’s informational binder from the table, too lazy and content to walk over and fetch it. They flipped through it together, lying on their stomachs, shoulders touching. Magnus called to order, simpering in Alec’s direction as he replaced the phone on the receiver.

“What?” Alec asked suspiciously.

“They said it’ll be awhile,” Magnus responded. His eyes wandered over Alec’s shirtless body. A smile hinted across one side of Alec’s lips.

“And you’re happy about that?” Alec asked playfully. He could not look away from Magnus’ gaze.

“I am,” Magnus answered. “It gives me all the time I need to finish undressing you.”

Alec stifled a very undignified sound when Magnus pushed him to his back and ghosted his hand over the shadowhunter’s dick through the thick denim of his jeans, straddling him. The warlock’s hands wandered upward, exploring Alec’s ribs and chest, before returning to the button below. He unfastened it, and then the entirely of Alec’s pants and underwear vanished, tumbling onto the floor from where they reappeared off the foot of the bed.

Alec raised an eyebrow. “All the time you need, huh?” But he was smiling, and his hands already caressed the backs of Magnus’ thighs, tracing the crease where his legs met his ass.

“I changed my mind,” Magnus said, leaning into his touch. “A person has that right, you know. And I’ve decided I’m not as patient as I thought I was.” He emphasized his words by grabbing Alec’s hand, guiding it toward where he wanted. Alec felt a swift temperature change over his fingers.

“Did you just—?”

“Lube you up?” Magnus answered. “Yes. As I said. Not that patient.”

Alec bit his lip, surprisingly turned on by the authority and confidence with which Magnus spoke. He did as requested, stroking his finger softly around Magnus’ entrance, staring awestruck at the way Magnus’ eyes fluttered closed, and then pushed inside.

Magnus let out a slow breath, holding himself very still as Alec gradually pressed in further, increasing his pace, then angling his hips back and forth as he grew more comfortable. As a second finger joined the first, Magnus leaned forward, resting his palms on Alec’s chest, and caught the shadowhunter’s gaze in his.

“Alec,” he breathed. “I—I want to ask you to do something for me, please.”

Surprised by the sudden hesitance in Magnus’ voice and enthralled by the gorgeous man moving above him, Alec’s reply tumbled from his lips before he could even fully process his response.

“Anything.” He meant it.

Magnus tightened briefly around Alec’s fingers in response to the shadowhunter’s keen response. “I want you to aim your fingers back toward yourself—curl them just a little bit—inside me.”

A blush crept to Alec’s face. He knew what Magnus wanted, and felt incredibly ignorant for not having thought of this during their few earlier encounters. He may have been a complete virgin before Magnus, but he still had enough access to the internet and Izzy’s awful romance novels that he should have known to do this without prompting.

“You want me to find your prostate,” he clarified, double-checking that he was not completely off-base.

A pleased, breathless smile flickered across Magnus’ face as Alec immediately adjusted, searching gently around.

“Yes,” Magnus confirmed, shuddering as he felt the slow movements of the fingers inside him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to do that before,” Alec said. He leaned up onto his free hand, enabling him to plant gentle kisses on Magnus’ collarbone as he bent his fingers gradually forward, worried about hurting the warlock if he moved too forcefully. “I should have.”

“I don’t expect you to read my mind, Alexander. That’s why I asked. Though you did get it on accident once or twice,” Magnus smirked, leaning into Alec’s kisses and sighing happily. “And that time in the shower—that was amazing.”

Alec’s cock twitched at the memory.

Magnus froze. “There,” he breathed.

Alec stopped his movements, cautiously rubbing his finger against the firm, rough lump he had touched.

“Y-yes,” Magnus encouraged.

Alec trailed kisses across Magnus’ shoulder, applying gentle, repeated pressure to the spot. Magnus sank onto them fully, wrapping his hands behind Alec’s neck and pulling himself closer, a small groan escaping his lips as Alec massaged in tiny circles. Much more quickly than ever before, Alec felt Magnus completely relax.

“Is this okay?” Alec asked, tone soft, and eager. “Do you want me to do anything else?”

“I want you to fuck me,” the warlock finally murmured, leaning forward so his breath whispered past Alec’s ear. Alec did not need to be told twice.

In seconds, Magnus’ back hit the sheets, his body caged in by Alec’s.

“Would you mind—?” Alec asked hopefully, and before he could finish the question, Magnus’ hand closed over his cock, bringing with it the warm, wet sensation of lube spreading over his skin.

“Thanks,” Alec gasped, overwhelmed by the touch after trying so hard to play it cool for the entirety of the evening, to focus on Magnus.

Taking Magnus’ earlier comments regarding impatience to heart, he lined himself up and pushed carefully against Magnus’ entrance, both of them sighing together as he slid into him. Magnus adjusted his hips, arching his back for a better angle, and this time Alec fully understood why. He started slowly, consciously stopping himself from thrusting too hard, too fast, and found himself falling to his elbows, using the closed distance to nibble at Magnus’ neck, brush his lips across his shoulders. Then he sought out the warlock’s mouth, kissing him as he felt tension rising in his own core.

Magnus came first, both of them moaning as Alec felt that unbearably amazing squeeze around his dick. Warm wetness smeared across their abs. Alec seized Magnus’ hands and tugged them from their spot on his back, pinning them above Magnus’ head by the wrists as his hips bucked. He buried his face in Magnus’ neck, tightness gripping his whole body.

All of the desire from the entire evening seemed to stack on top of itself inside of him—a firm, strained weight behind his cock. When they first walked into the room and his eyes darted straight to the bed before he dutifully swept those thoughts away. When Magnus teased him about his unintentionally provocative comments, then unsummoned his shirt in a flirty magical display. Watching the warlock, lost in his work, muscles shining as he slowly, deliberately moved his hands in a drawn out spell, oblivious to Alec’s attention. The kissing, and the teasing, and the touching, and Magnus’ beautiful eyes, and taste of Magnus in his mouth, and now the agonizingly sweet gasps as the warlock tightened around him.

Alec inched over the edge, and it felt like leaping off a cliff. Everything inside of him tensed and trembled as he let go, his insides stretching and contracting.

“Oh—” he made the sound unintentionally, but it quickly cut off into something nonverbal. Their bodies met roughly and Alec stayed there, completely buried in Magnus, and breathed his scent with staggered breaths as he rode out the orgasm.

When their dinner did finally arrive, both men were once again covered in a slick layer of sweat. Magnus extricated himself from his spot beside Alec, where they had collapsed and the shadowhunter had wrapped him up in the most satisfying, sleepy embrace. He kicked his feet over the edge of the bed and summoned one of the two oversized robes from the bathroom as he strode toward the door.

“Wait, Magnus!” With shadowhunter speed, Alec intercepted him. “Your eyes. Let me.” Alec lifted the robe from the warlock’s hands. A flutter of anxiety bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he became acutely aware of how answering the door in this state would appear.

Stop it, he scolded himself. It’s okay. It’s fine.

A young woman carried a large tray, peeking around as if she expected to be let in. Behind her, another tray waited on the small golf cart she had driven up from the main building. Alec glanced around for Magnus, but the warlock had already disappeared into the restroom. He thanked the server for setting up the plates on the table, then shut the door as she departed. Despite Alec’s awkward anxiety, she mostly just seemed bored.

See? Not a big deal, Alec repeated silently to himself. Magnus emerged after a few seconds of quiet, his eyes back to normal.

Except those aren’t his normal eyes, Alec thought. Those are the glamour. He missed the real ones already. He wondered if it was okay to say something like that aloud.

“You know, I’d actually forgotten my glamour was down, back there,” Magnus admitted. “I can’t remember the last time that happened.”

Alec pulled on a pair of pajama pants before sitting down, and after frowning disappointedly at Alec’s clothed legs, Magnus followed suit.

“You know, you don’t have to put it back up,” Alec ventured. “I lo—I like your eyes. The real ones. The real you. You don’t have to glamour yourself around me.”

Magnus beamed, hiding the smile by taking a sip from the mug on his tray. The scents of cocoa and cinnamon hung in the air. He blinked, and this time, Alec could swear he heard a tiny flicker of sound as the glamour fell and golden irises blinked back at him.

“I was worried what might happen the first time you saw my mark,” Magnus murmured. He stared down into his hot chocolate, ignoring the food on his plate. “I should have had more faith in you. I keep assuming the worst.”

“This wasn’t the first time,” Alec blurted. “That I saw your eyes, I mean.” Magnus glanced up in surprise.

“It… wasn’t?” The warlock’s brows furrowed together.

“It was at the first Melusine site,” Alec explained. “I didn’t know it was your mark. I thought it was just part of that spell you did—the one that looked like lightning bugs.”

“You mean right before you gave me your number?” Magnus seemed taken aback, as if he had been thinking of a completely different memory.

Alec decided that now would not be an appropriate time to point out that it was, in fact, Izzy who gave Magnus his number.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “That would be the day.” The realization from earlier that evening fluttered once again in Alec’s heart.

Maybe that was when it happened, he mused. Just like in Izzy's novels. I saw his eyes—his real eyes—for the first time…

When Magnus smiled broadly enough, he had the most adorable dimples.

And I fell in love.

Chapter Text

The first few times Alec fell asleep in the presence of Magnus Bane, the experience had been far from comfortable. Unaccustomed to sleeping beside another person, he could not ignore the places where their skin stuck together, or the warmth of Magnus’ breath drifting across his face. The bed was too hot, and every time he wanted to shift or adjust his position, he worried he might disturb the peacefully sleeping warlock. And Alec, enamored as he was, would rather lie awake all night with pins and needles in his arms than disturb the slumber of the man he adored.

This time, however, was different. Exhausted and satisfied, Alec slipped into a deep, restful sleep. He sprawled on his back, Magnus’ head snuggled into his chest, and kept his arms tightly wrapped around the warlock for the entirety of the night. The weight of Magnus’ body on his brought him an unfamiliar sense of steadiness—he belonged like this. Somehow, after only a few short sleepovers, he already preferred the presence of Magnus at night to the easygoing freedom of solitude. He felt anchored, and at peace.

So, when Alec awoke, the first thing he noticed was the absence of that comforting weight on his chest, and the unsettling chilliness of a bed that contained no other body than his own. The second thing he noticed was an overwhelming scent of ethyl acetate.

“Are you painting your nails?” Alec asked, rubbing his face as he propped himself up on one elbow.

“I am,” Magnus answered. He perched at the table, early morning daylight streaming golden from the window behind, framing the shape of him into an umber silhouette. He had restored his glamour, warm brown human eyes intent on his task. Alec sat up fully, the bedsheets around him falling away to reveal his bare chest.

“Did the spells complete?” he asked, his voice still rough with sleepiness.

“They did,” Magnus replied, focused on painstakingly applying the sparkling paint to his pinky.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Alec swung his feet to the floor, striding naked across the room to fetch his clothes. Magnus paused his examination of his nails to watch. Once Alec located his pants and his abs disappeared beneath his black t-shirt, the warlock returned to his fingernails, blowing on them. A puff of azure magic tumbled from his lips across his fingertips.

“You looked so peaceful,” Magnus reasoned. “I couldn’t find it in my heart to be the one to end your tranquil slumber.”

Alec rolled his eyes.

“Also,” Magnus added, “my polish got chipped last night. I can’t be seen outside with imperfect fingernails. It would be a true catastrophe.”

“You know what else would be a true catastrophe?” Alec griped. “If Melusine gets away and we have to report to the Clave that we lost her while messing around in a fancy hotel.”

“Hey!” Magnus protested. “We were waiting for the spells to complete! Besides, I didn’t hear any complaints from you last night. Well, unless you count the way you moaned —”

“Alright!” Alec cut him off, crimson creeping up his neck toward his cheeks. “You’re right, I’m wrong. Let’s just get going. Where are we headed?”

Magnus pointed to a pale white crystal on the table. The shadowhunter plucked it up, examining it. It illuminated in Alec’s hand, faint white glow almost lost in the morning daylight.

“A witchlight?” Alec asked.

“The very thing,” Magnus answered. “Keep that on you, I’ve spelled it. If you manage to touch Melusine with it, we’ll always be able to track her in the future, even if she slips through our fingers today.”

Alec rotated the stone on his palm.

“Good thinking,” he commended, impressed. He slipped it into his pocket, careful to keep it separate from the two he already carried. “Hope for the best, plan for the worst.”

“We’re headed down the coastline,” Magnus continued. “It’s not far—only about forty minutes.”

“Great,” Alec said. “Let’s go.” He strode toward the door, anxious to get on with the mission now that they had nothing to wait on. Anxious to get home. There were things he wanted—needed—to do.

“Hold on just a second, Alexander,” Magnus requested. Alec paused, facing the warlock again. Magnus shifted his stance, tugging something small from his jacket pocket.

“Everything okay?” Alec asked, noticing the hesitance written across Magnus’ face.

“Yes,” Magnus assured. “I just… I have something else. For you.” Magnus held a dark green velvet bag delicately between his fingers.

For the mission? Alec wondered. He accepted the gift from the warlock’s outstretched hand, and peered inside. When he discerned the contents, his eyebrows raised quizzically.

“Bracelets?” Alec asked. He gingerly poured them into his hand—three strings of shiny, tumbled black spheres. The strings, almost completely hidden beneath the beads, were each a distinct shade—one black, one grey, one white.

“Onyx,” Magnus clarified. “There are lots of protective stones out there, but I thought black would suit you best.”

Alec searched for the most tender wording to ask the question on his mind.

“They’re lovely, Magnus. But… why? I mean, why these, now?” Alec had never been the sort of person to accessorize. The few times Izzy had managed to drag him out to an environment that required stylish clothing, she had to fight to get him to wear anything beyond his default black shirt and jeans. Still—something about the gift warmed his heart. For Magnus, he would wear anything.

Alec rolled the beads over his knuckles, settling them onto his left wrist. As he did so, a faint high-pitched sound echoed in his ear—one he swore he had heard before. Recently.

Alec froze, looking up at Magnus.

“They’re enchanted,” he said.

Magnus’ eyes widened in surprise. “Good guess, Alexander.”

“It wasn’t a guess,” Alec frowned. “They sound like your glamour. Is it normal to be able to hear magic like that?”

A pleased smile played across Magnus’ lips. “Only if you pay attention,” he replied fondly. “Which most people don’t. Especially not nephilim, with their anti-magic laws.”

“Not that I don’t adore them regardless, but what do they do?” Alec asked, wondering if he should have asked such a question before donning the bracelets. Magnus did have one thing right—the practice of magic was banned for shadowhunters. He briefly wondered where in that grey area enchanted items fell. It wasn’t like he was casting magic himself, and the Clave made use of portals all the time. Enchantments were hardly different—right?

Alec fiddled nervously with the beads.

“They’re protective, as I said,” Magnus explained. “The white shields you from unwanted magical pursuit—like a stronger, warlock version of an Anti-Tracking Rune. It confuses wards, so on. The black one…” Magnus hesitated again, as if he knew Alec might no longer appreciate the gift once it was explained to him. “The black one prevents any warlock from channeling you, for any reason.”

“Even you?” Alec asked slowly, processing Magnus’ words.

“Even me,” Magnus confirmed.

Alec hooked the black-stringed bracelet with one finger and slid it back off his wrist, dropping it into one of his pockets instead. Magnus frowned at him.

“Alexander, this is for your safety. Melusine is very powerful. It’s completely possible that she could use you to power spells, even against your will.”

Alec recalled Magnus only two days before, struggling to stay upright in the training room as he fought to maintain consciousness against the combined magic of dozens of other warlocks. Warlocks at Melusine’s command. A defiant twinge of anger twisted his heart.

“I’m not blocking myself off from you if you need me,” Alec stated firmly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Magnus sighed. “And that’s why I made the grey one.”

Alec followed his eyes back down to the last bracelet, turning the beads under his fingertips.

“What does it do?” he inquired.

“The grey one protects you from complete magical drain, in the event a warlock does use your energy. So long as you wear this, no one can ever channel you to the point you lose consciousness.”

“That’s all I need then,” Alec asserted stubbornly. 

Magnus stepped close to him, their lips inches apart. Alec caught his breath as the warlock held his gaze. Magnus slid his hand softly into Alec’s pocket. His closeness, and his fleeting touch, ignited a fiery trail of desire across Alec’s body, distracting him momentarily from the warlock's purpose. Magnus lifted the black-stringed bracelet from the pocket and pressed it into Alec’s palm, weaving their fingers together.

“Please,” Magnus implored. “For me. Wear it. I can’t go out there today without knowing I’ve done all I can to protect you.”

“But if—”

“If I need you,” Magnus pressed, “You can remove it. It’s that simple.” His glamour flickered, a hint of gold sparkling across his entreating eyes. Alec found he could not tell him no, his stubbornness melting away at Magnus’ touch, at the warm shimmer of his eyes.

“Fine,” he huffed softly. He held his wrist out, and the warlock slid the polished stones back over his hand.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Alec shot him a tentative, shy smile. “I think I should be the one thanking you, Magnus Bane. No one’s ever given me jewelry before. A guy could get used to this.”

Now it was Magnus’ turn to roll his eyes, shoving the shadowhunter toward the door.

“Magnus, wait,” Alec laughed. The warlock halted, hands on his hips, looking at Alec skeptically.

“I mean it,” Alec reiterated, quieter this time. “Thank you.”

Alec protected people. He could not remember the last time someone else put such thoughtful effort into protecting him .

~

The crispness of Autumn chilled the air, heralded by a desiccant chorus of leaves bouncing across the earth, and brushing against each other as they drifted down from the branches above. The wind had picked up below vaguely ominous clouds, rustling the trees each time it changed direction. The drive ended too soon, familiar anticipation tightening Alec’s chest as it did before every mission. Silence fell between shadowhunter and warlock, each lost in their own contemplation. Magnus parked the car in a lot labeled “Scenic Viewpoint,” overlooking the vast body of water below.

Despite the dour mood, Alec could not help but appreciate the location. As far as stakeouts went, this one had the best view by far of all he had ever been on. They slumped in the car for almost two hours, eyes fixed on the shoreline and the structure in the distance. As the minutes dragged on, a heavy gloom crept into Alec’s mind, weighing on his stomach.

“We should probably glamour and walk from here,” Magnus finally said. They stepped out from the car, both stretching.

Below them, a rocky beach meandered into the distance, disappearing around a sharp outcrop of earth. On the edge of the weather-beaten crag, a crumbling lighthouse braced against the erratic winds, leaning precariously outward toward the water.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Alec’s head tilted to the side. He examined the structure in the distance, eyes unfocused as he activated his Vision rune.

“I can’t be certain until we go,” Magnus answered, “But I don’t see any other viable options around here, and my apartment is definitely nearby.”

“Well,” Alec sighed, “she certainly has a flair for the dramatic. I wonder where she got that from?” Without looking back, he strode down toward the beach. Behind him, he could almost hear Magnus’ eyebrows shooting up.

“Wow. Is no moment too solemn for your sass, Alexander?” Magnus darted forward to keep pace with Alec’s long strides.

“No,” Alec deadpanned. “Not really. I blame growing up with Jace.” Beside him Magnus stifled a smile, but Alec’s quips did nothing to lighten his own mood. His eyes scanned the beach, all of his senses on edge.

Under the cover of a heavy glamour, they picked their way across sand and rock toward the alarmingly tilted lighthouse. Alec assumed that in its day, the paint circling the structure had once been red and white, but the colors had long since faded to stained grey and rust, interspersed with weathered stains and cracks.

“Stop. Wait,” Magnus whispered as they approached. Alec obeyed, eyes drifting over him quickly to ensure he was okay before returning his attention to their surroundings. Nothing moved across the entire beach, save for the water crashing against the shore, and the sand drifting in the wind. A low, electricity-like buzz quietly popped and snapped underneath the ambient sounds of nature. Alec’s gaze shot back toward Magnus, searching for affirmation.

“Wards,” Magnus confirmed. His hands moved forcefully, as if they pushed aside heavy locks on some unseen wall. “Luckily,” he added, “I taught her almost everything she knows.”

“Does she know we’re coming?” Alec asked.

“I can’t be sure,” Magnus answered. “We should assume so.”

The inside of the lighthouse looked exactly as Alec might have expected. Rust flaked from the narrow spiral stairs inside. The steps broke for only just enough space to allow the door to open, ascending the tower to the left and disappearing into the darkness below on the right. Magnus paused, tilting his head as if listening to some unheard call, beyond Alec’s perception.

In the soggy gloom of the stone foundation, stale air almost motionless around him, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Alec’s heart hammered, adrenaline sharpening his vision. Any second, they might face Melusine. Melusine, who likely murdered dozens of mundanes. Melusine, who tried to murder Magnus. Alec felt sorely unprepared. He found himself quietly contemplating his earlier promise to himself, made in a fit of protective anger—that Melusine would die by his own hands.

If I can even hold my own against her at all, he thought. She was mentored by Magnus. Even he admits she’s powerful.

Next to him, Magnus’ eyes closed, still pondering some magical sense, and the shadowhunter took the opportunity to activate his Calm rune, steadying his heart rate to better focus on the mission at hand.

Don’t think about it. Complete the mission.

“My things are upstairs,” Magnus imparted, noticeable relief flooding his tone. He started upward, but Alec’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist, tugging him back down. Much to the warlock’s protest, Alec squeezed past Magnus in the narrow space, creeping up around the cramped curves of the twisting hall with one arm out, keeping himself between Magnus and anything that might come jumping out at them. Magic waited at the ready in Magnus’ palms, blue sparks sputtering from his fingertips.

The staircase ended in a flat, dark ceiling, broken by a heavy trap door. Alec reactivated his Strength rune, just in case, along with Speed and Agility, wary of how unprotected he would be emerging from the floor. Then, all senses on high alert, he inched the door upward.

Much to his surprise, the trap door swung open easily after an initial push, almost as if it were weightless. Peering in, Alec realized why. The floor of the adjoining room stretched upward, the space and all of its contents rotated perpendicular to the world outside. Magnus peered over Alec’s shoulder.

“Shoddy job,” he scoffed.

“What do I—? Do I just go in? How does it work?”

“It’s dimensional magic, Alexander. If anyone really understood how it worked, the mundanes would probably have intergalactic travel by now.”

Alec shot Magnus a frown, then lifted himself through and into the unknown. Gravity shifted around him as his body crossed the threshold, his stomach dropping uneasily toward the new direction of “down.” His feet shuffled cautiously onto the floor, then he turned and reached a hand out to Magnus, eyes already darting around the apartment. Magnus glided in after him, handling the shift in orientation more smoothly than any person had a right to.

Once the fleeting vertigo subsided, the world seemed to right itself around Alec. He found himself in an apartment that looked very much like it belonged to Magnus Bane—because it did. Bookshelves and glass display cases lined the walls, featuring an eclectic assortment of weapons, books, and other antiques. The only light came from the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall, a stormy view of the water interrupted by the weathered railings of the lighthouse balcony outside. Suspiciously, everything outside seemed normally aligned with the apartment, as if Alec’s universe had not just twisted sideways as he entered. A few overzealous raindrops pitter-pattered against the glass. Behind him, the front door to the apartment still ended abruptly in an awkwardly placed ladder, which from Alec’s perspective stretched off forwards into the darkness instead of downward.

“This is unsettling,” the shadowhunter said.

“I know,” Magnus answered. “I definitely taught her better than this.”

They both froze at the sound of footsteps shuffling behind a closed door to their left. Operating on instinct, Alec activated his Stealth rune, slinking off to the side where he remained out of sight. On the other side of the room, Magnus’ hands flared to life, energy crackling threateningly across his fingers.

Alec took a steadying breath, hand resting on his seraph blade. He narrowed his eyes toward Magnus, jerking his head to the side to indicate a more secure position for the warlock. Magnus’ eyes widened as Alec fell into combat mode, and he stepped cautiously over as indicated, to where Alec could more easily cut off Melusine’s path if she started toward him.

She tried to kill him. Anticipation heated Alec’s veins, body and mind rising in preparation for a fight. A fierce surge of protectiveness strengthened his grip on the blade. She won’t get that opportunity again.

The door creaked open, and a small, child-like voice drifted out from the murky room within.

“Dad?”

Chapter Text

She’s just a kid!

Alec’s fingers went cold, his grip on the seraph blade loosening. The girl who stepped into the living room looked no older than fourteen. A thick navy headband stretched over her chopped blonde bob, her hair almost white in contrast to the dark blue. The small bow on the side highlighted her already youthful appearance, weaving the illusion that a child stood before them.

The girl stepped past him, so focused on Magnus that Alec’s stealth rune and silent steps shielded him easily from her attention. He hesitated, unsure whether he should subdue the delicate girl or search the premises for her parents.

Parents. Wait… ‘Dad?!’ Alec’s mind caught up to the present. His attention darted toward Magnus, but the warlock was focused on the girl. He examined the kid with cynicism as she ran her hands gingerly down the front of her simple navy blue frock, straightening the skirt.

Magnus frowned, and the ice in his voice froze Alec where he stood.

“Mellie, I thought we discussed this. You know how I feel about you calling me that.” The warlock’s entire demeanor shifted. He relaxed his hands into his pockets, tilting his head as he examined her. The cold distance in his tone unsettled Alec, reminding him of his mother in recent weeks, or even worse, Clary’s. Suddenly, Magnus Bane looked and sounded every bit like his reputation—an ancient, mysterious High Warlock whom few dared to cross. “You really haven’t changed much at all, have you?”

“Neither have you, apparently,” Melusine answered sweetly. She quieted then, sounding more like a scolded child. “My apologies, Mr. Bane .” Her voice was gentle and shy.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “ Magnus will do, sugar cube.”

Melusine leaned to one side, staring at her fingers. She seemed unthreatened by Magnus, if a bit timid, though the High Warlock’s stony expression sent even Alec into high alert. Raw power blanketed the room, thick in the air. Alec suddenly felt very, very mortal.

“How did you manage to survive the portal block breaking?” Melusine examined her perfectly manicured nails, her tone casual, as if asking about a new job, or commenting on the weather. Alec could see Magnus’ influence in the tiny, glittering gemstones embedded in the polish of her ring fingers—sparkling white crystals over midnight blue. She swayed back and forth slightly, like a kid with too much energy, trying to sit still at the command of their parents.

The question reminded Alec of their purpose, and that the person before him was no mere girl. She was a powerful warlock, over 200 years old, and only two days ago she tried to murder the man that Alec loved.

“Castiel,” Alec whispered, finally drawing and naming his blade. The shimmering, glassy surface materialized from the handle, springing to life before him. In a flash, it was held against Melusine’s throat, the glowing adamas flickering as it came into contact with her skin. He towered over her from behind, strong grip restraining her.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. Her fingertips had begun to spark, tiny violet flames curling around them. The impressive display quickly fizzled out as Alec tightened his hold on the blade against her neck. Her skinny frame caved weakly against him, fragile and small. For a fleeting second, he imagined Max or one of his brother’s young classmates in Melusine’s place, and his grasp faltered.

“That stings,” Melusine pouted. “I only sensed a lone warlock passing through my wards. How did a shadowhunter get in here?” She sounded afraid, her pitch rising. She trembled in Alec’s arms.

Magnus shrugged. “Maybe you’re losing your touch. You’re not as young as you used to be.”

“Actually, I’m more powerful than ever,” Melusine drawled, all traces of fear vanishing. Her head tilted toward Alec’s left hand, which rested on her arm to hold her firmly in place, and she seemed to examine it there. “Those are some fancy enchantments you have there, nephilim. Not many warlocks can imbue such powerful artifacts. They must have cost a fortune.” She giggled, amused at some internal thought.

“Mellie, you know why we’re here,” Magnus cut her off. “Tell us about the ritual you’re planning.”

Melusine ignored him, her attention still focused on Alec. She stared up at the ceiling, unable to turn to face him.

“Are you Magnus’ next pet project?” she asked. “He likes to think of himself as some sort of rescuer of lost, abandoned Downworlder kids. Shadowhunters aren’t normally his type, but maybe he ran out of warlocks and got bored. Don’t worry, he’ll get bored of you, too, soon enough. Once he realizes that being responsible for you requires any amount of actual effort.”

Alec remained silent.

“Unless…” Melusine’s voice lit up. “Oh, I have to get a look at you. Let’s end this ridiculous charade.” She brushed Alec’s hand from her shoulder. All of Alec’s natural instincts kicked in—maintaining his hold on her should have been easy, but the shadowhunter did not move.

The shadowhunter could not move.

Alec stood stock still, frozen in place, as Melusine wiggled her way from his grasp.

“Mel—” Magnus started, his fingertips sparking back to life.

“SIlence,” she cut him off. “Unless you want me to crush your boyfriend’s windpipe. That is what he is, isn’t it? Not a fatherly interest—a romantic one.” Melusine spun to face Alec. Her big, deep brown irises scanned him gleefully from beneath long eyelashes and thick, dark eyebrows that did not match her hair.

“Well,” Magnus started. “He’s not exactly—”

“Oh, shut up,” Melusine interrupted. “I’m already well aware of your commitment issues, Magnus. I’m assuming your lack of action means you care about him enough that you’d rather his spinal cord remain intact.”

“That would be preferable,” Magnus answered hastily.

She looks twelve , Alec thought. The diffuse, overcast light from the window cast her features in a pallid, lifeless grey. Melusine raised a hand, thin fingers glowing a dark, plum purple that seemed more like an absence of light, and Alec felt a strange sensation crawl across his body, as if his limbs were nauseous. His lungs stalled, unable to draw air.

With her head tilted to the side, Melusine looked like a porcelain doll, sporting the same blank, sad expression they always wore on their fragile faces. “Let me give you a present. How does a few extra years of life sound? How old shall I make you? Ten? Or maybe ten thousand, and Magnus can watch you crumble to dust before his eyes about sixty years ahead of schedule.”

Behind her, Magnus seized the opportunity she left him. His hands shot up, azure light careening from his palms into Melusine’s back. She stumbled forward, not expecting the warlock to actually attack her, and her magical hold on Alec broke. Alec caught himself on his knees, gasping for air, and drove his hand—clutching Magnus’ witchlight—upward into the girl’s shoulder. He dropped the glowing stone and grabbed her arm, tugging her forward and into his other fist, which held the handle of the now retracted seraph blade aimed straight into her gut.

Melusine balanced precariously on one foot, making a show of catching herself before fighting against Alec’s grasp, ignoring the threat of the blade aimed at her stomach and laughing as if they were playing a game. He let her twist around, then caught her tightly with her back against him and her arms pinned in front of her. When Alec’s eyes found Magnus, the warlock held a newly-summoned set of ethereal, fiery handcuffs.

“No,” Melusine gasped upon seeing them herself, suddenly serious. “No! Magnus, no! Dad, please! Please, Mr. Bane! I’ll go with you! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!” She shrank against Alec, twisting and writhing. Alec held her steady, nausea turning in the pit of his stomach. He had never seen such bindings before, and had no idea of their purpose, but he trusted Magnus.

Magnus stepped up to where Alec held Melusine in place and tightened the glowing restraint around her narrow wrists. She screamed, smoke hissing from her skin where ember met flesh. Alec looked away, and then she went limp. The heavy silence weighed on his conscience, Magnus examining the girl with a testy eye roll, and Alec wondering if they’d killed her. He scooped her up, carrying her across the room and draping her gingerly into a leather arm chair that faced the window. His throat tightened. He imagined facing a Clave inquiry, deruning, exile, for the torture of a child. What would his family do? What would he do?

What have I done?

Behind him, Magnus snorted. “Stop being such a little drama queen, Mellie. We both know those cuffs don’t hurt at all.”

The delicate body in the chair sprang to life, sitting up primly. Melusine smiled up at Alec, eyes cold and glittering in sharp contrast to her charming expression. When Alec’s gaze fell back to her bound wrists, no burns marred them.

“I don’t think your boyfriend did, though,” she giggled. “Thanks for the lift, shadowhunter.”

Alec paled. His face and hands felt cold. He had forgotten, once again, that she was not a child.

“Enough games,” Magnus snapped.

“You forfeited your right to boss me around, remember?” Melusine responded curtly. She redirected her attention back to Alec, the picture of gentle composure—a far cry from the sobbing, screaming girl from moments before. “He really doesn’t tell you much, does he? Don’t feel bad. That’s just how Magnus is—he never opens up to anyone. I would know. I’m his daughter.”

“No you’re not,” Magnus said.

She cast a sidelong glance at the other warlock and leaned in toward Alec conspiratorially, her voice lowering to a mournful whisper. “Why do you think it is that he doesn’t trust either of us? Why aren’t we good enough for him?”

Alec’s lips thinned to a tense line. He turned and walked to the back of the room, away from the window, and left her sitting alone.

“Don’t walk away, shadowhunter!” she called after him. “You need me!”

Alec contemplated how people who did evil things always seemed to love saying that phrase.

Magnus placed a feather-light hand on Alec’s arm as he passed. “Sorry if that frightened you,” the warlock murmured. “It didn’t occur to me that you might not have seen such bindings before. I forget that these sorts of spells are not often used outside of the Spiral Labyrinth.”

Alec shrugged. “I trust you more than her,” he answered. “She’s clearly insane.”

Magnus shook his head, seeing straight through Alec’s pretense of disdain, right to the unease that churned beneath his ribcage.

“It doesn’t hurt her,” Magnus assured. “It effectively makes her mundane. So long as she wears it, she cannot cast magic, and will even age if it is left on for long enough. It’s a powerful artifact.”

“Maybe you should leave it on her for a few years,” Alec speculated. Rather than dwell on the uncomfortable feeling of having just seen a child in shackles, Alec focused on the task at hand. “I assume you have this under control. I’m going to sweep the premises.”

Alec prowled through the remaining rooms of Magnus’ misplaced apartment. As far as he could tell, everything seemed to be in order. He paid special attention to the room Melusine had come from—a cramped study, over-filled with tomes and artifacts—combing it for any possible hint regarding her plans. Her voice carried softly through the doorway from the main room.

“It’s okay to feel guilty, Magnus,” she soothed. “Warlocks aren’t meant to be parents. It’s only natural that you failed me.”

“What happened to you?” Magnus asked in response. His voice was strained, tight with sorrow. It broke Alec’s heart.

“My family abandoned me,” Melusine answered matter-of-factly. “Not really a big deal, I guess. I’m sure I’ll get over it.”

“Mellie, we spent so long helping you come to terms with that. It was awful what your parents did to you, but it’s not an excuse. Every Downworlder in existence walks a road paved by tragedy.” Now Magnus’ voice was only disappointed, and to Alec, he sounded very much like a father.

“I wasn’t talking about my biological family,” she clarified.

“I did not abandon you,” Magnus objected firmly. Alec wondered if Melusine could hear the veiled distress behind his quiet tone. He hated that Magnus was in pain.

“Is that what you tell yourself that so you can sleep at night? Like how you never let me call you my father as if that somehow means you aren’t?” Melusine’s voice was accusatory, but gentle and eerily calm for someone currently in magic-draining, immortality-stealing handcuffs. Alec could not tell if her words carried genuine sadness or if she said them only to disconcert her target. It was exhausting just listening to her, trying to piece together some understanding, any at all, of what twisted perspective lurked behind her calculating eyes.

“I am not your father,” Magnus said coldly. His voice wavered, so subtly that Alec almost missed it.

“It breaks my heart when you say that. Haven’t I been through enough?” Melusine’s voice thickened, cracking toward the end of the question. Alec thought he heard her sniffle. He decided the study was useless, and returned to the living room to rescue Magnus from Melusine’s mind games.

“It’s okay,” Melusine was whimpering. “You’re clearly living a happy life now. Don’t let me hold you back from your happiness. If turning me in, abandoning me all over again, is what will bring you peace—then you have to do it. I’m really scared, Magnus. But I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. I’ll be brave for you. Maybe one day you’ll remember me and come back for me.” She cut off and crumbled into tears.

“The ingredients aren’t here,” Alec announced. Magnus stared out the window, expression blank. He seemed lost in the choppy waters below.

“They wouldn’t be,” Melusine replied, sniffling. “I’ve already used them.” It was the first helpful information she had offered them, and Alec did not trust it. He ignored her. Outside, thunder rumbled.

“I need to check downstairs,” Alec said to Magnus. Magnus reached for Melusine’s arm and pulled her up, following his orders silently. Alec shook his head, holding up a hand to stop him as he started toward the door, which still looked like an M. C. Escher lithograph. “Portal her to the Institute and come back for me, then we can finish going through this place together and question her later.”

I can’t listen to her talk anymore, he thought to himself. I can’t listen to her torture you.

Magnus examined Alec carefully, taking in his composed, neutral expression and voice, then nodded.

“I assume those enchantments on your arm were a gift. What other gifts has Magnus given to you?” Melusine asked Alec, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. She spoke as if Magnus was not even there, as if she and Alec were the best of friends, confiding their deepest secrets to each other. She bore no trace of the tears that clouded her voice only moments before. “He’s very good at gifts. He gives them so he feels less guilty about his inability to truly love anyone but himself. He bought me lots of things. I think they made him feel better about how awful he was to me.” She cast the warlock a hurt glance.

Magnus spun up a portal, gripping Melusine’s arm tightly. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, flashing a smile that did not reach his eyes. Alec’s stomach hurt.

“It’s a shame I already cast the spell,” Melusine said, fishing for their attention when they ignored her. “Shadowhunter energy would have completed my collection. I have at least one of every other species imbued in that thing, not that it was necessary. I just like the idea of it.”

Magnus glanced down at her, eyes narrowing and brow furrowed. It looked to Alec as if something had just occurred to him.

“Let’s go, Mellie,” the warlock sighed, and stepped through the portal, pulling the girl—the woman, Alec mentally corrected himself—along with him. Alec waited in silence, retrieving the witchlight from the floor and turning it over and over in his hand as he stared uneasily out at the raindrops, which began throwing themselves against the window in a frantic, forceful rhythm. The muted radiance of the witchlight shimmered in the reflections on the droplets, transforming them into a thousand tiny shards of adamas on the glass.

Melusine was in their custody. Yet somehow, he felt like their conflict with her had only just begun.

Chapter Text

By the time Magnus returned, the sky had darkened, thunderous cloud cover snuffing out the remaining hints of sunlight. The lake below churned in the winds. Alec startled from his somber contemplation when the bright spark of the portal flashed across the room.

“It’s so dark in here,” Magnus commented, stepping out from the glimmering beyond. He noticed the witchlight in Alec’s hand, casting long shadows from where he stood near the window but doing little other than that to illuminate the space. “You know I do have electricity in here, right?” he pointed out. His voice seemed too casual, too lighthearted, as if forcing himself to speak evenly.

Alec smothered the muted glow of the witchlight into his pocket, leaving them in darkness as the portal dissolved behind the warlock.

“That took awhile,” he noted quietly, waiting for Magnus to elaborate. Despite his earlier complaint, Magnus did not move to turn on the light. Instead, his glamour dissolved away, cat eyes flashing in the gloom. Alec’s heart skipped a beat, drawn like a moth to flame, toward the golden set of slitted eyes that blinked from the shadows. He stopped himself after one step, still awaiting the warlock’s explanation.

“Your sister saw me emerge without you and suffered what I can only describe as a complete meltdown. She didn’t let me get a word in edgewise until she had already managed to work herself to tears.”

“Sorry. I guess I should have texted her.” The drumming of the rain on the glass behind Alec subdued his voice. The entire apartment reverberated with its rhythmic tapping. Belatedly, Alec slid out his phone to discover a barrage of messages from Izzy awaiting him.

Iz - 15:07

I’m going to kill you.

How could you just send Magnus back himself like that??

Without checking in?!

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, ALEC.

Wtf happened? Did you just FORGET your training??

Did you FORGET how to check in with me?!

Iz - 15:11

No, you know what?

I don’t even want to look at you.

Don’t even come back to the Institute.

I hate you.

If that was a prank it was the worst one ever.

Alec Lightwood - 15:27

I did forget, actually.

I was a bit preoccupied.

Also, you can’t kick me out of my own Institute.

Iz - 15:27

WATCH ME.

“Izzy has assembled a one-woman mutiny,” Alec noted with some amusement. At Magnus’ raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “She says she doesn’t want me to come home. She doesn’t mean it. She threatens to throw me out on the street every time she’s upset with me.”

“Does she have the power to do that?” Magnus asked thoughtfully.

“Nope.” They stood in silence, Alec burning to pepper Magnus with all of the questions that had been bubbling up inside of him since he first heard Melusine’s voice through the doorway. Instead, Alec turned to the front door of the apartment. In the stormy darkness, the ladder and stairs twisting away ahead of him reminded Alec of the City of Bones.

The descent into Hell is easy.

“I already searched through this floor while you were gone. You’ll definitely want to do so as well since it’s your place and all, but we should cover the basement first,” Alec said. He stepped gingerly through the doorway, catching himself on the short ladder as the world spun and landing on his feet at the top of the stairs. Magnus followed, uncharacteristically quiet.

They descended down the cramped, spiraling hallway, past the entranceway, and down into the concrete below. The air smelled damp, and lithic. Alec had become accustomed to the constant background thrumming of the rain, and now the world fell too quiet. Somewhere in the murky space, the sound of a single water droplet echoed again and again, where some meager rivulet of water had wormed its way through stone. By the glow of one of his witchlights, Alec found a door at the bottom of the stairway, and then a light switch just inside, and flipped it on.

Alec stopped in the doorway, Magnus nearly colliding with him. He was not sure what he had expected, but it had not been this. Despite the lack of windows, the apartment within the base of the lighthouse was… pleasant.

Maple hardwood lined the floor over the stone foundation. Against one wall, a contemporary, light wood shelf held rows upon rows of small potted plants, some of which spilled over the sides or climbed up and wound themselves around the levels above. Bright, cool white lights illuminated the vertical garden. To the left, a narrow twin bed had been neatly made, piled with downy blankets and pillows in an assortment of beiges and light blues. The majority of the room was occupied by what appeared to be a work station—one wooden table against the right wall, and one dominating the center of the room beneath a small chandelier that trailed glassy beads beneath it. Both were strewn with books, jars, and plant cuttings. The entire space was brightly lit, both by the grow lights and chandelier, as well as a smattering of modern, blocky lights that dotted the walls. On the side that opened to the stairs, where Alec and Magnus stood, a built-in shelf occupied the remaining wall space, across from the garden. It was made of a darker, weathered wood that seemed deliberately distressed, and had shelves of varying sizes like a massive printer’s tray. Every centimeter of shelf space across the whole wall was covered by some decoration—a set of antlers, jars of powders and small stones and things that glittered. Soft little furs were draped across parts, and vines had begun to invade from a strategically placed flower pot on the floor.

“It seems that before she stole my apartment, she practiced by absconding with an entire Anthropologie store,” Magnus remarked.

“Wouldn’t herbology be a bit more appropriate?” Alec asked, misunderstanding the comment. Magnus shot him an appalled glance.

Alec realized his mistake and grinned at his own ignorance. “That’s a shopping chain, isn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I know you grew up in the Institute, Alexander. But I’m fairly certain you were not locked inside of it for all twenty-three years of your life. You have been outside, right? Before these past few weeks?”

Magnus’ horror at Alec’s disinterest in mundane culture elicited a chuckle from the shadowhunter. “Twenty-four. And I guess it was mostly by choice. Izzy and Jace went out. I stayed in and trained, or read books. Someone had to be responsible.”

“What?”

Alec snorted. “Don’t act that surprised. I may be an ogrish shadowhunter as you love to call Jace, but I can read, you know. And he’s not as stupid as you make him out to be, either.”

“No, I mean your age. Since when are you twenty- four ?” Magnus dragged the words out a bit, pausing his investigation of one of the herbs on the workstation to stare at Alec with furrowed brows, as if he worried he might finally be going senile.

“Since like, a couple weeks ago?” Alec shrugged. He lifted the mattress off the bed, but the underside revealed nothing.

“You didn’t tell me,” Magnus fussed. “I would have done something. Gotten you something. Thrown a party, perhaps.”

Alec turned his attention to the other worktable, which Magnus had yet to address. “It never really came up,” he said. Unlike Jace and his strange birthday stories—who would want to swim in pasta?—Alec had never done much to celebrate his own. It seemed like a selfish tradition, expecting everyone to treat him special for a day. It made him uncomfortable.

“Well tell me now, at least. Don’t make me go to your sister to get information as simple as your birthday. I won’t miss it next time around.”

Alec shot Magnus an annoyed glance. “September twelfth,” he mumbled. “And it’s not like we were very close at the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Alexander, we’d been on three dates at that point. You could have told me your birthday.” Magnus sounded horrified.

“I didn’t know they were dates,” Alec defended. Then, he added, “Well, I guess after the third one I knew.” A grin played across the corner of his lips, chasing away his feigned annoyance, as he recalled their first sleepless night together. “Still, it would have felt weird. What should I have done, texted you ‘Good morning, it’s my birthday!’ the moment I woke up and thought of you? Bringing it up is weird. Besides, I never do much for it. One year, Jace even completely forgot.”

Magnus paused his search to blink in Alec’s direction. “You thought of me the moment you woke up on your birthday?”

Alec blushed. He started to stutter over a vague denial. He was rescued by the book below him, on which his eyes thankfully fell upon some recognizable lettering. M. Bane . He lifted the book up to face the warlock, pointing to the unrecognizable script across the center of the page.

“Is this yours?” he asked. “Maybe from upstairs?”

Magnus tore his cat eyes away from Alec’s flushed cheeks to examine the tome, and almost just as quickly shook his head. “Nope. I have no idea what that writing is. Some warlocks write their grimoires in magical alphabets that only they know, to help protect their secrets. I have no doubt that Mellie would have done the same.”

Alec swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The questions he had been avoiding with small talk once again reared their prickly, unwanted heads.

“Magnus,” he said. “It has your name on it.” He tapped his finger in the bottom corner of the inside cover, and the only legible characters written there. Magnus’ eyes followed Alec’s direction, and then darted to the floor. With a sigh, he pulled out the chair between the work tables and sat down. 

“I don’t think that’s mine,” he mumbled. “It’s hers.”

“Melusine’s?” Alec asked gently. He really did raise her, a surprised voice in the back of his mind realized. Melusine Bane.

Magnus rubbed his temples. “Yes, but it’s not what it looks like.” His tone was tired, defensive.

Alec could hear the exhaustion there, from years of explaining himself to others, years of trying to justify his perspective. He leaned against the table, indicating his willingness to wait for Magnus to sort his thoughts, focusing only on him.

“I’m not judging you, Magnus. I respect your privacy if that’s what you want. I just need some… context. Please.” His own voice reminded him a bit of Magnus, Alec noted with surprise. He remembered how the warlock used to speak to him, when they first met. Gentle, but firm. Unwaveringly supportive while still demanding honesty. Despite the way that he pushed and confused Alec, Magnus had always felt safe. Alec wanted to give that same security back to him. To remind him that someone loved him, even if the warlock didn’t know it yet.

Magnus’ face was in his hands. He took a deep breath. His foot tapped anxiously on the hardwood floor.

“It was the 1800s,” he began. “I was in Niort, traveling with close friends—Catarina Loss, and Ragnor Fell.” At the mention of Ragnor’s name, Alec cast his eyes downward, his throat tightening. If it weren’t for the wedding—for his stupid stubbornness—he would have been there. He might have been able to help. Magnus’ friend might not be dead. He stewed in his guilt, but he did not interrupt.

“Melusine, then called Genevieve, was about to be married. But she ran, the night before her wedding, when her soon-to-be husband walked in on her and saw her with her warlock mark unglamoured. She had nowhere to go. No family, no friends. She was alone. I found her on the banks of La Sèvre Niortaise, and I helped her.

“Everything was good at first. She did not seem to know much about magic, or her own origins. I taught her everything. I thought we were all friends, the four of us. But Ragnor left to go on his own adventures. Catarina followed soon after, leaving just Genevieve and myself. I did not know, at the time, that they had left because of her. She drove them away, and they tried to tell me, but as usual, I did not listen.”

Magnus paused here, discerning how to convey his thoughts. “I encouraged Genevieve to come up with her own name, as I had for myself. There’s power in naming yourself, I think. It frees you from the demons of your past. And after Ragnor and Cat both departed, she finally decided on Melusine. She said it reminded her of a fairytale she grew up hearing, one that held a striking similarity to how she and I first met. She said she wanted to be called Melusine Bane.”

Magnus stopped. He shook his head, staring at the floor, one hand resting on the table and the other masking his face. Alec’s heart ached to see him so distraught. The shadowhunter covered Magnus’ resting hand with his, their fingers warm where they touched. He waited.

“I pushed her away. I was selfish. Melusine was a lovely name, I said, but Bane was mine. I told her to think on it. To come up with a surname that more suited her. At first, she accepted this. But it became more and more clear over time that my words had hurt her deeply. She kept asking all these questions, saying things that were just…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “She spoke as if she was attached to me in ways I could not fathom. She treated me like…” His hand on his face had reached his hair, combing through the longer spikes on top. 

“How are you supposed to respond in that situation?” Magnus asked. “How are you supposed to tell someone that you aren’t what they want you to be? That you can’t give them what they need?” The warlock’s voice was rough. Alec squeezed his hand.

“That’s not your fault,” Alec murmured. Magnus finally looked up at him, his gold-framed pupils narrow in the bright fluorescent light.

“It is,” the warlock answered. “It is.” He repeated the words like a hymn he had sung a thousand times, a creed that had become so ingrained in his heart that it lost all meaning. “It is my fault. Every time I pushed her away, she clung to me more tightly. She started calling me père —father. I felt so trapped . I would tell her to stop, and she would cry. And she was so lost, Alexander, and so alone. She had no one else.”

“She wasn’t your responsibility,” Alec soothed. He ran his thumb over Magnus’ knuckles, but his quiet attempts at comfort were lost on him.

“She was,” Magnus whispered. “She was, the moment I offered to help her. And I failed. I pushed her away. I moved to New York, and I told her not to follow, to build a life of her own. I thought she just needed a bit of independence. I couldn’t give her the one thing she needed. The only thing she asked for.”

“What was that?” Alec asked. The quiet closed in around them, as if it could drown out his question.

“Family,” Magnus answered, “and love.” His words seemed muffled by the silence. Alec’s breath caught. The air pressed in—heavy, stifling. Magnus let the words hang there, and then found Alec’s eyes again, desperate for him to understand. “She’s not a monster,” Magnus pleaded. “She’s a person, Alexander. She wants the same things everyone else does. I abandoned her.”

“You said yourself that you didn’t, Magnus, and you were right. You can’t control the actions of others.”

“No,” Magnus whispered, and Alec’s heart beat in his throat, because Magnus was no longer talking to him. He was staring at something, and his face was pale, and his red-rimmed eyes spilled over. “No,” he repeated again weakly. He stood, and he moved as if he was sleepwalking toward the crowded shelves against the wall, beside the door—the only place they had yet to search. Alec followed, terror gripping his chest, afraid to see what the warlock saw—afraid of what awful torture Melusine had left for him.

Magnus stopped in front of the shelf, and raised a trembling hand to just below eye level, lifting what appeared to be a pair of conical, copper-colored trinkets. A handwritten tag dangled from one of them, scribbled in the same script as the book on the table. Alec’s mind raced, struggling to identify what about them troubled Magnus so much, until the warlock managed one more word.

“Elias.”

The surprising pleasantness of Melusine’s lair no longer felt like a relief. Nausea washed over Alec, weakening his legs. He leaned against the shelf, his fingertips brushing against one of the jars, and that’s when he realized that the sparkling contents within were not crystals—they were silvery scales. They, too, were labeled. Everything on the shelf was labeled. Furs, antlers, jars, even plants. Every single item represented a Downworlder. A person .

Alec recoiled from the shelf. Dizziness swept across him. The world spun. Through the unsteadiness, his eyes found Magnus. Magnus. Magnus . The warlock stood there still, frozen, trembling, staring down at his hands. The horns began to slip between his fingers, displaced by their shaking, and Magnus made no move to catch them. He watched, eyes wide and shining and silent, as they fell.

No, Alec thought. He darted forward and caught the horns before they could tumble to the floor, his shock-frozen mind lagging behind his actions. He did not know Elias, but Magnus did, and he would not let the remains of Magnus’ friend fall to the floor like discarded litter. He placed the horns carefully back on the shelf, his own hands now trembling too, and then turned to Magnus. Magnus stood in the same pose, hands shaking before him, holding nothing but air. He stared down at his own fingers as if he had no idea what they were.

In one swift motion, Alec grabbed him and held him tightly against his chest. Magnus’ arms dropped to his sides, a gasp escaping his lips at the roughness with which Alec’s arms engulfed him. Then, as if waking up from a deep sleep, his fingers found the hem of Alec’s shirt, and he wound it between his fists, and he held on so tightly that Alec thought the fabric might rip, but he did not care. A sob ripped through the silence that smothered them in this awful place, and Magnus’ face was buried in Alec’s chest, and the warlock’s shoulders shook.

It was as if a dam had been opened, reality crashing through the Magnus’ delicate web of denial and obliterating it in one fell swoop.

Alec kept his arms wrapped securely around the warlock’s body. He said nothing. He only held him. He turned them so that Magnus faced away from the sickening display, but then his own eyes fell upon it, and the nausea returned again.

I need to get him out of here, he realized, and he did. One arm still around him, he guided Magnus back out to the bottom of the stairwell, and let the door slam behind them, engulfing them in complete darkness. He sat Magnus down on the cold stone stairs, then dropped to the floor beside him and threw his arms around him, and he held him close and let the warlock’s tears soak his shirt, his sobs echoing into the blackness that enveloped them.

Alec would have sat there forever if he needed to. Anything to offer even the tiniest comfort to Magnus as the threads of his carefully constructed reality frayed to pieces. He stared into the empty void, his eyes never adjusting, as there was no light down here at all—not even creeping out from below the door. He heard only the quavering gasps of the warlock as he cried, and the measured, steady dripping of that single droplet of water, echoing as it splashed against the stone in some dark, unknown corner. Slowly, gradually, Magnus’ breath slowed, and his tears subsided.

“This is my fault,” he choked out, his quiet words ricocheting off the cold, damp walls. His voice carried a hysterical edge, like some deep-seated knowledge of himself had been uprooted, and his entire identity had spiraled away into chaos.

“Magnus,” Alec whispered. He lifted his free hand to the warlock’s face. His fingertips met cold tears, still drying. “Magnus. Magnus.” The warlock’s name was a poem on his tongue, a verse that spoke of family and love and so much more. A deep sadness coiled in the most distant recesses of Alec’s heart. He could not think of a single other thing to say.

Alec leaned downward, and his lips found Magnus’ in the gentlest, tenderest of kisses. He hoped it said everything that he could not. Alec leaned their foreheads together and sat there holding him, now fighting back tears of his own.

“I’m so stupid.” Magnus managed, his breath dancing across Alec’s chin. Alec’s fingertips traced circles on the back of Magnus’ neck.

“You’re not,” Alec breathed.

“I am,” Magnus insisted. “I’m stupid and naive. I always have been. I draw awful people out of the shadows, and they latch onto me like leeches, and I somehow convince myself, every time, that I can help them, or fix them. That they’re just misunderstood. That I can change them. And every time, I am made into a fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Magnus.” Alec’s words echoed into the blackness, and Magnus did not respond, only sat up straighter, his weight retreating from Alec’s shoulder. The emptiness there ached, and Alec found himself leaning into the vacant space, tugging the warlock back toward him.

“Magnus Bane,” he murmured, hesitating as he formed his thoughts, “it breaks my heart, how much love you put into the world, and how little you get back for it. And yet you just keep giving, and keep loving. You are so, so strong. You remind me every day what it means to be good—truly. You’re not a fool.”

Magnus shook his head. “I was wrong.”

He tried to continue, to object to Alec’s assessment, but the shadowhunter placed a gentle finger over his lips. Alec reached into his pocket, and pulled out one of his own witchlights, remembering the reflections in the droplets, glimmering against the shadowy backdrop of the stormy sky. The witchlight illuminated in his hand.

He shifted to his knees and knelt before Magnus, and in the soft glow that spilled from his hands, he saw the warlock’s tear-stained face, and his swollen eyes, and the feline flash of his irises, and his heart shattered at Magnus’ devastating beauty. He knew he could do nothing to make this better.

“I’m awful at this” Alec whispered, mostly to himself. With the hand that was not holding the crystal, he laced his fingers through Magnus’, and murmured more loudly, so the warlock could hear.

“I don’t know if anything I say can ever come close to healing the wounds you have suffered in your efforts to shoulder the burdens of others. But you bring light to everyone around you. And maybe that means that people who are full of darkness flock to you, because they crave the hope that you give them. But it’s not because you have failed, Magnus. It’s because you have succeeded where no one else can.”

I love you, he wanted to say. But he thought of Melusine, and the fears that Magnus had just confided in him, and the horrors that she had committed, and he did not, because it was not the right time.

“If souls could be substance,” he said instead, “yours would be adamas .”

Magnus’ tears returned, and Alec set the witchlight onto the rough floor beside them. He held Magnus again, in the soft angelic glow, until the warlock’s throat was raw and he could not cry any more. When he quieted, Alec opened Magnus’ jacket, and tucked the witchlight gingerly into his inner pocket.

“Keep this with you,” he said, “so you always have a reminder that you are the light in the darkness.”

“Thank you,” Magnus whispered. His lips found Alec’s in the dark, salty and tentative. Alec felt Magnus’ hand still trembling in his own, and he pulled back after barely a breath.

“I’m going to call Isabelle,” the shadowhunter explained slowly, his sister’s full name feeling foreign on his tongue. “She will process and catalogue the remains with the respect they deserve.” The light of Alec’s phone lit their way now, its brightness not dissimilar to that of the witchlight, only harsher. Magnus nodded without protest, his eyes locked trustingly onto Alec’s. He looked exhausted. Alec stood, gently pulling him up, and lead him by the hand back up the stairs, and out into the pouring rain.

Chapter Text

Alec lifted his hand hesitantly to Magnus’ door, hovering as if to knock. Nerves fluttered through his chest. Two days had passed since their discovery at the lighthouse. He wanted to give Magnus space, to let him process his emotions without Alec clinging onto him every second of every day. Alec had focused on helping Izzy with the evidence, trying to identify the remains and contact close acquaintances of the deceased. It was taxing work, especially for warlock victims, but it gave him something to do other than worry. Magnus still had not texted him since he portaled away from the Institute two nights before, and Alec’s nerves had been thoroughly frayed.

Earlier that day, Alec had finally caved in to his compulsive craving for constant contact—this was the longest he had ever gone without a text from Magnus since they first exchanged numbers. But his messages went not only unanswered, but also unseen.

His hand wavered, still positioned by the door. Alec wondered if it was too much, to drop by Magnus’ place unannounced. Maybe the warlock was ignoring him for a reason. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me. The thought echoed darkly in his mind. Maybe I said something wrong. He’s been through so much.

Alec thought of the cold, dark stairwell, and Magnus’ tears, and the deep-seated self-loathing he had seen in Magnus’ heartbroken golden eyes as the soft glow of the witchlight flashed across them. I have to at least make sure he’s okay , Alec decided. And then, after that, if he doesn’t want to see me, I’ll go.

With renewed determination, his knuckles met the polished black surface of the door. It swung open immediately, carried by the whisper of magic. Alec stepped through, eyes darting around the empty entranceway, searching for signs of the conspicuously absent warlock. A pair of fluffy sock-covered toes peeked up over the side of the sofa, drawing Alec into the main sitting area. Magnus sat up as he approached, grinning in a manner that made Alec suspicious of his sobriety.

“Alexander!” Magnus crooned, confirming Alec’s conjecture. “I was just thinking about you! Granted,” Magnus tilted his head to the side, holding up one finger to correct himself, “I think about you a lot. Like, a lot .”

Alec blinked at the admission, his heart flip-flopping in his chest. He was not sure what to make of the clearly drunk man before him. “I came to check on you,” he managed. “You weren’t answering your phone.” A jumble of assorted objects from the apartment in the lighthouse sat scattered on the floor to Alec’s right, books and boxes all piled on top of one another. A mountainous pile of clothes buried the blue armchair to his left. “Do you need help with this stuff?”

“No,” Magnus waved a hand dismissively, flopping back down across the sofa. “I’ve given up.”

“Oh...” Alec trailed. His heart began to sink. He recognized that oddly chipper tone—the one Magnus used when forcing himself to put on a brave face. “Well, have you eaten? Maybe we could grab dinner.” He hesitated at the last word, wondering if Magnus was sober enough to leave the loft. “Or even better,” he amended, “I could make you something?”

Magnus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Is it dinner time already? I had Taki’s delivered for lunch. Their Taki Tuesday specials are great.”
“Magnus, it’s Wednesday.”

The warlock stared at him blankly, then shrugged. “Yesterday was Tuesday, but today is Tuesday too.”

Alec realized just how wasted Magnus must be. He strode over to the kitchen counter, where an empty paper bag still sat on its side with the receipt stapled to it. It was dated from the day before.

“Was this your most recent meal? How much have you had to drink?” Concern flooded Alec’s voice. For the first time, he noticed the warlock’s clothes—the same shirt and pants he had worn in Michigan, missing only the jacket. Magnus still swirled a glass gingerly in one hand, a generous pour of amber liquid circling the bottom. Further inspection revealed the jacket tossed across the end table near Magnus’ feet. Alec’s concern melted into dismay, his heart hammering in his chest. Why had he left Magnus alone?

“I’m only a little—” Magnus attempted to stand, then plopped straight back down onto the cushions, sitting upright in the center of the sofa, eyes wide. “Wow,” he said, as if only just discerning his own inebriation. He looked back up at Alec and squinted. “Is it really Wednesday? That was a joke, right?” The tone of his voice jumped up and down like a child’s.

“It’s really Wednesday,” Alec sighed. His throat felt tight, and it burned. I should have checked on him . He stepped over to the couch and sat down next to Magnus, resting a hand onto his back between his shoulders. He caught his eyes, surprised that the warlock’s glamour remained intact in such a state. “I’m so sorry, Magnus,” he murmured, “I should have been here.”

Magnus leaned into Alec the moment the shadowhunter’s fingers brushed along his shoulder blades, dropping his glass roughly to the coffee table, already forgotten. “Why are you sorry?” he asked into Alec’s chest, his voice muffled by the soft cotton of his shirt. “You didn’t get me drunk. Unless you did, in which case that’s very naughty of you, and I feel compelled to inform you that I would have slept with you while sober anyways.”

Alec frowned at what he thought might be a grievous attack on his character, but let it slide on account of Magnus’ hopeless inebriation. “Magnus,” he pried the warlock off of him, lowering himself to meet his eyes again, the way he would for a young child. “What’s the last thing you remember? Walk me through what’s happened since you got home.”

Magnus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his knuckles, and furrowed his brows as he thought very carefully. Normally, Alec would have laughed at the seriousness of his expression, but he could not find it within himself to feel anything but worry. I should have been here. I shouldn’t have let him go home alone.

“I portaled home,” Magnus recounted. “I was so tired, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I went ahead and retrieved all this stuff.” He waved vaguely around the room, and Alec assumed he meant the items from the other apartment. “I was going to sort through it, but then I just kept thinking about—” Magnus cut off and shook his head, rubbing his temples. “I wanted a drink, so I had one. Then I fell asleep on the sofa and you woke me up. Is everything okay? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You were asleep for two days?” Alec asked, confused.

“What?” Now Magnus seemed confused, too. “No, that’s not right. I was only asleep for a few minutes. Then I realized I was hungry, and I ordered Taki’s. It’s Taki Tuesday.”

“That would have been the next day, Magnus. Yesterday.”

Magnus dropped his head into his hands. “You’re confusing me.” His voice cracked, and Alec wondered if the warlock was about to cry.

“Okay,” Alec soothed, “that’s okay.” He rubbed Magnus’ back in a wide, circular motion. He swept aside his guilt and sorrow and worry, and focused on helping Magnus now that he was here. Stewing in his own regret would do neither of them any good, and Magnus needed him right now. “How about this? Why don’t you take a shower, relax for a little bit, and I’ll make some dinner. Then we’ll figure it out from there, okay?”

“Is it really Wednesday?” Magnus asked again, his voice small.

“Yes, Magnus,” Alec murmured. He stood up, facing him and holding out his hands. Magnus took them and pulled himself up on unsteady legs. After a moment of standing on his own, the warlock stumbled forward into Alec’s arms, throwing his own around him. Alec buried his face in the warlock’s hair. He heard Magnus inhale deeply, and the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got you. Do you think you can shower on your own?” Alec asked hesitantly. He took Magnus’ hand and lead him toward the bedroom and through to the master bath.

“Of course,” Magnus scoffed, “I’m not a lightweight.” As if on cue, he bumped the door frame with his shoulder and then glared at the wall as if it had deliberately moved to place itself in his path. Alec swallowed a heavy knot of anxiety, mistrusting Magnus’ self-assessment.

“Alright,” he finally decided. “You seem like you can stand, so I’m going to let you go. Call for me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be right outside.”

“Wait,” Magnus’ hand darted out to encircle Alec’s wrist. Alec turned back to him, ready to help with anything the warlock asked, only to be met with a sloppy, wet kiss. He froze in surprise, instinctually leaning into the embrace, then pulled back as his brain caught up to the present. Magnus eyed him, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Join me?” he asked. “I’m sure I’d be much safer with your assistance.”

Alec brushed a thin strand of hair out of Magnus’ eyes, tracing down his cheek. “Not this time,” he responded, his tone gentle and loving. “I’m going to make you dinner,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

Magnus pouted. “Why not?” he asked dejectedly. “I thought you liked taking me in the shower. That it would make you happy.” He wrapped his arms around the back of Alec’s neck, lacing his fingers together and pressing his body into the shadowhunter’s, standing on his tippy toes to brush his lips over Alec’s again. “You know, the first time you ever made me lose control of my glamour was that time in your shower,” he whispered.

Alec wrapped Magnus in a tight hug, squeezing him close and taking a deep breath to settle the immediate reaction his body had to the advances, repressing the instinctual physical response that betrayed his chivalrous sensibilities. His heart fluttered. Then he extricated himself once more from the warlock’s arms. “You know what would really make me happy?” he asked. Magnus was all ears, staring up at Alec through his eyelashes. He blinked very deliberately, waiting with expectant excitement.

“What?” Magnus asked hopefully.

“If you let me make you some food while you shower.”

Magnus snorted, dropping his arms. “Fine,” he complained, dragging out the word like a scolded teenager. He lifted his shirt over his head and then turned his attention to the button on his pants, only stumbling slightly as wriggled out of them. Satisfied that Magnus was capable of at least the bare minimum of shower activities, Alec turned to leave. Another thought occurred to him, and he reached back past the door to steal the towels off the rack.

“Hey!” Magnus exclaimed. “I need those!”

“I’ll bring them back before you’re done,” Alec assured. “Now get back to your shower.” He spoke in a more commanding tone, mocking the voice Magnus often used to make fun of him when he was working. Magnus giggled, and Alec’s heart lit up. Much better. He found himself smiling.

“Yes, sir,” Magnus murmured as Alec left the room. Alec barely caught the words, and stopped in his tracks, the door clicking shut behind him. Some small part of his brain struggled to process the complete lack of sarcasm in Magnus’ response, stuttering over the earnest sincerity of it. He clutched Magnus’ towels to his chest, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Then he remembered his mission, and brushed away his fluster to locate the dryer.

With the towels tumbling, Alec floundered around in Magnus’ kitchen, sifting through cabinets and perusing the fridge. Many of the contents were unfamiliar to him, the warlock having acquired much more varied and exotic tastes in his many centuries than Alec could hope to fathom. He attempted a stir fry, but the smell of burning and thick smoke billowing from the pan swiftly indicated his failure. With a huff, he admitted defeat and ordered delivery, instead steeping some hot tea to sip while they waited. That, at least, he could do well.

Checking the time, he retrieved the towels from the dryer, then snuck his head back through the door to Magnus’ bathroom. Magnus looked much steadier now, scrubbing his hair under the steaming water. Droplets raced across his skin, glistening over his tanned muscles. Alec crept in and smuggled the towels back onto the rack, then slipped back out the door without drawing the warlock’s attention.

Magnus’ jacket still lay crumpled on the end table. Alec picked it up, shaking it out to fold it. The least I can do is tidy up a bit. Something weighty slipped out from the inner pocket, clattering to the floor. Laying the jacket carefully back onto the table, neatly folded, Alec picked up his witchlight from where it fell. The gentle glow spilled between his fingers. For a moment, a pleasant warmth radiated through Alec’s chest. Just as quickly, another thought sent that satisfaction crumbling away.

Witchlights don’t illuminate for Downworlders, he recalled. His heart plummeted. I’ve given Magnus a gift he can never enjoy. Guilt washed through Alec, the good feelings that he had fostered crashing down around him. How could I be so stupid? He wondered if he should take it back, but somehow that seemed worse. His stomach twisted into anxious knots. Why don’t I ever think about these things?

 Something brushing against Alec’s leg jerked him out of his internal spiraling, sending the shadowhunter leaping halfway across the room with the stone still in hand.

A small grey and white tabby cat stared at Alec with wide green eyes, crouched frozen in place after his wild movements, ready to flee. Alec stared back, eyes just as wide. “Where did you come from?” he asked in disbelief. He stepped cautiously back toward the cat, but it spun and darted away into the master bedroom, traumatized by the suddenness of Alec’s initial reaction. “Well… bye then, I guess.”

He did not have time to process the unexpected animal in Magnus’ home. Just then, the white noise of water hitting tile faded. Alec placed the witchlight back onto the end table next to the neatly-folded jacket it had fallen from, hoping the warlock would forgive his awful ignorance. Magnus emerged from his room slightly stumbling, clad cozily in grey pajama pants, with one of the towels pulled tight around his shoulders.

“It’s so warm !” he grinned.

Alec beckoned him back to the sofa. “Here,” he murmured, and handed Magnus a steaming cup of tea. Being less educated in matters of tea than coffee, Alec had selected the most generic looking black tea from the cabinet, and Magnus seemed pleased.

“Did I summon this?” he asked, accepting the warm mug between his hands. “I hope I remembered to leave money.”

Alec snorted. “Still not remotely sober, I see.”

Magnus chuckled at that. “Nope! Not at all.”

“I ordered delivery,” Alec admitted sheepishly. “Sorry. I tried cooking. It didn’t work out.”

Magnus sniffed the air, nodding. “I can tell. It smells like you tried to burn my loft down. You really are an awful cook, Alexander.”

Alec wanted to be insulted, but Magnus was right, and he was also incredibly cute. His drunkenness made him adorably honest, the warm towel now draped loosely around his waist. Instead of protesting, Alec moved on to a more immediate question. “Magnus, do you have a cat?”

“Of course,” Magnus answered, patting the cushions next to him to entice Alec closer. He spoke as if the cat had always been there, lurking around the apartment. “The Chairman. He comes and goes as he pleases. Have you two not met before?” His words slightly slurred.

“Uh, we did while you were in the shower. I don’t think he likes me.”

Magnus frowned, and stared at Alec gravely, his brows low over his eyes. “If Chairman Meow does not approve of you, I cannot keep seeing you,” he declared somberly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alec replied, swallowing. He had the feeling that, despite his drunkenness, Magnus was dead serious.

The food arrived shortly after, and Alec dashed downstairs to meet the driver, leaving the front door propped open. When he returned, he found Magnus staring blankly out of the window from his spot, barely paying any attention to Alec as the shadowhunter untied the bag and arranged the foil containers across the table.

“What’s going on, Magnus?” Alec prompted tenderly. “What are you thinking about?”

Magnus turned back to him and blinked, as if he had not expected Alec to be there. When he spoke, he did so with a dream-like separation. “I always assumed Mellie—Melusine—was still a child when I found her,” he whispered. “Maybe thirteen, or fourteen.” The other warlock’s full name sounded strange coming from Magnus’ lips, as if just by calling her something different he could distance himself. “What if she wasn’t?” the warlock continued. “What if she just let me believe that, because I assumed she was? For all I know, she’s older than I am.” Magnus’ voice shook as he spoke.

Alec got the impression that this thought had been running through Magnus’ mind, over and over, since before his arrival. He abandoned his task of unpacking the food and went to Magnus, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

The same possibility had occurred to him over the past few days. It changed Magnus’ relationship with Melusine entirely, from one of cold opportunism to one of deliberate, predatory manipulation. Glacial, protective anger chilled his veins on Magnus’ behalf. He remained silent, holding Magnus close. The warlock did not cry, only snuggled into Alec’s chest before sighing when his stomach growled.

“I’m starving,” Magnus finally quietly admitted. “How do you always know just what I need?” Alec’s heart stumbled over the next few beats, watching as Magnus picked over the small assortment of Italian food. It had seemed like a safe choice to Alec, and Magnus appeared to be happy with it.

“Does Chairman Meow have food and water?” Alec asked, hoping Magnus had not been starving his poor cat.

“On the terrace upstairs,” Magnus noted, his mouth full of pasta.

“I’ll be right back,” Alec said. He peered into the pantry, searching for anything that resembled cat food, and found a large bag of kibble shoved into the back corner on the floor. He carried that and a glass of water upstairs.

Traffic glittered on the streets below the terrace, lighting up the night. On the corner of the stone tile, near a guard rail, Alec spotted the little grey and white cat seated next to two metal bowls. He was not sure how the critter had gotten outside, but it seemed par for the course for any pet of Magnus Bane’s to move in mysterious ways. Chairman Meow chirped at him, standing up and trotting over to stare up at the bag in Alec’s arms with wide, excited eyes. Alec peered into the bowls.

“You do already have some food in there, you know,” Alec noted, as if the cat were a person that might understand him. The Chairman meowed back irritably, tail flicking as he wound around one of Alec’s legs.

“I see,” Alec answered sagely. “You’re picky, just like your Dad.” He scooped a generous handful of kibble onto the bowl, mixing it with the scant amount of leftover food already there. Then he emptied the glass of water in his other hand into the cat’s water bowl, which was also low, but also not yet empty. Chairman Meow fell onto the food as if he had been starved for weeks. Alec got the feeling that he had actually been fed plenty, and was simply inclined to dramatics—much like his owner. “You two suit each other,” Alec observed fondly. Satisfied that Magnus’ cat would not be starving to death, Alec returned back down to the loft.

Having gotten Magnus showered and fed, Alec discovered quickly that the only need that remained for the warlock was sleep. He spent the next hour basking in Magnus’ aggressive snuggles, as much for his sake as Magnus’, until eventually he concluded that if he lingered another minute, he would end up falling asleep on the sofa in the warlock’s arms. And as much as he wanted to stay and keep Magnus company, Alec had an early morning mission he needed to prepare for.

“It’s been, like, hours since I’ve had a drink,” Magnus insisted sleepily. “I’m—I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would trip over your own coffee table while sober, too,” Alec observed, stifling an affectionate smile as he steadied him. Magnus stumbled again, and Alec scooped him up bridal style, deciding that it would be simpler to just carry him. Magnus gasped at the sudden motion, clinging tightly to Alec’s neck, and then dissolving into giggles. “When you wake up,” Alec continued, “we’re having a conversation about this. I want to know what magical concoction possibly could have gotten you this drunk. And I might throw it out.”

“It was a bottle of Fey whiskey from the Unseelie King,” Magnus bemoaned. “A thank you gift for some minor conflict I helped sort out a few decades ago.” He released his arms from their spot around the back of Alec's neck as the shadowhunter set him onto the bed. “I should have known it would have magical properties. Toss that terrible poison in the garbage.”

“That explains a lot. Do you have anyone else I can call to come check on you?”

“I’m fine ,” Magnus insisted.

“Okay, Magnus. If you say so.” Alec tucked the warlock in, kissing him on the forehead. Magnus sighed happily. Alec sat himself on the side of the bed, fingertips tracing along Magnus’ arm. He did not need to wait long—within only a few minutes, the warlock was fast asleep. He spotted Magnus’ phone on the nightstand, and pressed the back of it carefully against the warlock’s fingertip, unlocking it and searching through the contacts list for a familiar, specific name, then dialing the number into his own phone in case he ever needed it again.

~

Magnus’ eyes blinked open to bright light flooding his bedroom.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “Turn it off!!”

“I can’t turn off the Sun, Magnus.” Catarina’s voice was clipped and thin on patience, like a mother who had come home to her child’s messy room after repeatedly asking him to tidy it. Magnus groaned, immediately recalling the mess he still had to deal with in his living room—all of those items he had grabbed from his apartment, keeping them clear of the sticky fingers of Clave investigators.

“What time is it?” Magnus croaked. The last thing he remembered was taking a sip of the whiskey gifted to him by the Unseelie King. He should have known better. His head throbbed, a thousand hammers slamming into his brain at once. He evaluated whether or not this was the worst hangover he had ever experienced, and concluded it might be in the top ten.

“Time for you to get your mess of a self out of bed so I can get back to more important work,” Cat griped. “And can you please explain to me why I got a phone call about you from a shadowhunter ? Why would you give anyone from the Clave my number, Magnus?”

“A shadowhunter?” Magnus rubbed his temples, sitting up and then getting cautiously to his feet. He was definitely sober now. Sober and very, very, nauseous. “I didn’t give your number to any shadowhunters.” A foggy memory slithered into his brain, but retreated before he could grasp at it.

Magnus shook his head, trying to make sense of it. He remembered noodles, and takeout containers, and hoped dearly that he had remembered to pay and had not just drunkenly stolen it. He remembered stumbling into the bathroom, and… Alec. Alec’s voice, saying no to him—not unkindly—as Magnus tried to pull the shadowhunter with him into the shower. A humiliated blush crept to Magnus’ cheeks. He could not remember the last time someone had rejected him like that. But he also could not remember the last time he had gotten quite so wasted. I’m such an ass. Why was he even here? Did I call him?

“Hurry it up, Magnus. I don’t have all day.” Catarina’s grumpy scolding carried in from the living room, where she had disappeared to as soon as she had confirmed he was alive. “I promised that boy I would come check on you and get you on your feet in the morning, and I’d like to fulfill that oath before the next century.”

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, finally clasping a vague memory of Alec pressing his finger to his phone. ‘ … anyone else I can call to come check on you?’

“That sounds about right,” Catarina called. “He was very concerned for you. He insisted I come see you this morning, even though I told him you’d be fine.”

Magnus pulled a soft shirt over his head, reluctant to emerge from his room and face the mess outside. He mentally prepared for it—the clutter from his other apartment, the takeout containers, the dirty glasses. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

… to a spotless apartment.

“Cat?” he asked, confused. “Did you… clean up for me?”

The look that Catarina shot him was the dirtiest one he knew she could manage. “Don’t you think I have better things to do that act as your maid service? Your loft was already spotless when I arrived. And before you ask, yes, the cat was fed.”

“Oh,” Magnus said. His throat constricted, and tears burned at the backs of his eyes. A small piece of paper caught his eye on the kitchen counter, the only thing noticeably out of place in the whole space. Magnus picked it up, examining the handwritten letters scrawled across it.

I hope it’s okay that I came by to check on you. Leftovers and gatorade in the fridge. Feel better. -Alexander

Magnus smiled at the way the shadowhunter wrote out his full name, the tail of the A trailing under the rest of the letters in meticulously practiced cursive. Alexander did all this? He felt awful that Alec had done so much for him, but his heart ached in the best way, and his vision blurred a little. Gods I’m such a sap. Pull yourself together.

Beside him, Catarina cleared her throat. “So,” she asked. “Do you want to tell me how long you’ve been hiding a secret shadowhunter boyfriend from me?”

Magnus wiped at his eyes, brushing away the overwhelming mix of emotions that pushed through them. He blamed it on the lingering effects of the hangover, and the emotionally tumultuous aftershocks of unwelcome Fey magic. His gaze fell on the end table across the room, next to the sofa. He spotted Alec’s witchlight there, shimmering as it reflected the early sunlight streaming through the window, almost as if it was glowing itself. His heart fluttered. Of all the gifts he had ever received, he thought that one might be his favorite.

The exhaustion from the past few days crept back in, his memories from that night threatening to overshadow him. But he thought of Alec’s words that night, and he looked around at his tidy, spotless home, and the adamas stone, and the carefully scrawled words on the paper in his hand.

You are the light in the darkness.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he pointed out almost mechanically. At Cat’s raised eyebrow, he amended his statement, unable to suppress his smile. “Yet.”

Chapter Text

Magnus Bane - 14:06

I’m really sorry about last night. I hope I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.

I’d like to thank you in person.

When you have time.

Maybe we could go on a proper date tonight? Or dinner at my place?

I promise to be sober this time. 😓

Magnus stared down at his phone. Alec had seen the messages almost an hour ago, but had yet to respond. He knew he had no right to be bothered—when he was with clients, or elbows deep in a particularly challenging potion, he often glimpsed Alec’s texts without responding. Still, his heart hammered in his chest every time he compulsively rechecked the screen.

Maybe I’ve chased him off, he thought. He probably thinks I’m a hot mess of an alcoholic and never wants to see me again. Magnus considered that perhaps there was some truth to that. He was about to go looking for that bottle of Fey whiskey to toss it in the garbage when a hesitant knock drew his attention to the door. When Magnus opened it, a familiar silhouette stood in the frame.

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Alec seemed taken aback by the question. He hesitated, the way he always did when trying to sort out his thoughts, a quality that Magnus had long associated with both introverts and poets. “You wanted me to come over, so I did.”

Definitely just an introvert, Magnus concluded affectionately, though he had known that already.

“Sorry I took so long. Clary ran off to try to rescue Jace when he stopped checking in… it’s a long story that doesn’t really matter. They’re both safe.”

“You came over immediately?” the warlock faltered. “Just because I mentioned I wanted to see you?”

Alec shrugged. “Yeah.” His eyes scanned Magnus. “Are you feeling better? How are you?”

For some reason, Magnus’ eyes felt warm. He drew Alec into a tight embrace. “I’m wonderful,” he said, and he meant it.

Alec drew back, narrowing his eyes at the sudden enthusiasm. “Please tell me you’re not still drunk.”

“I’m not!” Magnus insisted. “I’ve learned my lesson. No more accepting consumables from the Fey.” He grimaced, then shook off the lingering tendrils of regret and beckoned Alec into the loft. “Especially to drink away my feelings. Anyways, I got you something.” Magnus held his hands secretively behind his back, and a tiny puff of sound indicated he had just summoned something. “Consider it a small thank you gift.”

Alec tilted his head. “For me?” Soft concern shaded the shadowhunter’s voice. “Magnus, you don’t need to buy me things.” He stepped close, tracing his fingertips along the hem of Magnus’ jacket in a way that reminded the warlock of their first night together. It sent shivers across him, and Magnus momentarily lost his train of thought in the adoring blue eyes gazing down on him.

“I know,” Magnus regained himself, flashing a cute, coy smile up at Alec. He lifted his free palm to rest on Alec’s chest. “But I thought you might appreciate using a vaporizer that’s a little less ostentatious than mine in the future, so I got you your own.” He revealed his other hand, which held a sleek, matte black vaporizer pen, already loaded with a fresh cartridge. “Much more you , right?”

‘He gives gifts so he feels less guilty about his inability to truly love anyone but himself.’ Melusine's words flashed across Magnus’ mind, and for a second, Magnus worried the same thought might be occurring to Alec. He fought the urge to drop his eyes. Magnus had been planning to give the pen to Alec for a few weeks, but now he worried that maybe it was too on the nose—maybe his recent snafu with intoxicating substances might have scared Alec away from them altogether. Maybe Melusine’s invectives had hit home. His internal spiraling snowballed in the span of only a few seconds. But then a pleased smile crept across the shadowhunter’s lips, banishing the warlock’s anxiety into the forgotten realms of the past. Alec plucked the pen curiously from Magnus’ fingers.

“It’s the same one as yours,” Alec noticed with appreciation. “Just black.”

“Of course it is,” Magnus responded, relief flooding his limbs. “I would never allow you to use anything less than what I’d buy for myself, Alexander.” Alec tapped the tip of the pen to power it on as Magnus had taught him the previous time they smoked, holding it gingerly in the few inches of space between them.

“Thank you.” Alec raised his eyes from the small, glowing white circle at the end of the pen to meet Magnus’ gaze. “This is actually really cool. I’ve never had one.”

Magnus spun on his heel, bouncing toward his sofa and plopping down. “Next time you have a free evening, we should give it a whirl,” he said, kicking his feet up. “Only if you’re up for it.”

Alec surprised him as he followed toward the sofa. “Why not now?” the shadowhunter asked. He adjusted the preheat settings, the glowing circle between his fingers fading to green. “Unless you’re busy,” he amended, pausing while still on his feet.

A bright smile lit up Magnus’ face at the unexpected suggestion. “No! That sounds great! We should go somewhere,” he reclined, reaching for his own pen on the coffee table and powering it up. His arm rested loosely across the back of it as Alec seated himself beside Magnus. The shadowhunter leaned back absent-mindedly, molding himself against the inside of Magnus’ elbow and shoulder. Magnus’ heart flip-flopped. Alec leaned comfortably against Magnus’ body like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Magnus immediately regretted suggesting anything that involved them moving from this exact spot. He lowered his arm to rest more intimately around Alec’s shoulders, and the shadowhunter sighed contentedly, finally lifting his new gift to his lips.

“Actually, I had an idea,” Alec admitted, his voice deep, stifled by the heavy cloud that bloomed from his mouth. “If you don’t mind repeating a place we’ve already been to.”

“And which of our previous excursions did you have in mind?” Curiosity tickled the warlock. Alec was always so subdued, Magnus sometimes experienced difficulty discerning which outings Alec enjoyed more than others. The shadowhunter mostly seemed content to just do anything, so long as they were together. The realization sent tiny tendrils of warmth shooting through Magnus’ body.

“Well, I just thought, you took me to the gardens that one time. After dinner on our second date. It seems like it would be fun. Like this.” Alec wiggled his pen, shooting Magnus a hopeful look, as if waiting to hear if he passed an exam.

Magnus beamed. Of course. It’s quiet. There’s no chance of running into other shadowhunters who might ask something of him. He can really relax there.

“That sounds lovely,” he assured. Now Alec beamed, relieved at Magnus’ approval.

“But…” Alec added, smile melting into a giddy grin that betrayed the pen’s swift effects, “can we just stay here for a little bit first?”

“Here?” Magnus asked. He angled his head to face Alec, even in height now that the shadowhunter slouched so comfortably under his arm.

“Yeah,” Alec confirmed. His voice was a breathy whisper as he turned toward Magnus, their faces centimeters apart. “I just really like sitting here like this. With you. It’s all you wanted to do last night after dinner, but then I had to go. And I couldn’t stop thinking about just lying here with you.”

Magnus’ heart pounded so aggressively it almost hurt. He couldn’t resist leaning that extra inch forward, brushing his lips across Alec’s. He felt Alec smile against him, returning his kiss and resting his hand on Magnus’ thigh.

“That sounds great,” the warlock murmured, his words quickly cut off in favor of other priorities.

~

The pair stepped briskly out of a portal into the early evening sunlight, having finally separated themselves from each other. Magnus giggled, watching Alec immediately set off toward the Perennial Garden just outside of the Conservatory, where a few flowers still bloomed despite the late season. The shadowhunter walked with purpose, as if he knew where he was going. Magnus somehow doubted that was true, but he followed anyways, just delighted to see Alec so engrossed and guileless.

When they reached the flowers, warlock trailing behind shadowhunter like an adoring puppy, Alec beelined to the nearest bench and tugged Magnus down onto it with him. Feeling cheeky, Magnus scooted onto Alec’s lap, and the shadowhunter did not protest, supporting his weight with an arm around his lower back.

“It’s just us,” Alec noted with satisfaction.

“Of course it is, pup,” Magnus answered, snuggling blissfully into Alec’s arms. “The gardens closed almost two hours ago.”

“Oh,” Alec realized, making a face at the nickname. Magnus made a mental note to cross that one off the list. “Well then… thanks for getting us in.” Alec’s attention drifted, preoccupied by the rustling plantlife, which cast long shadows behind them. Magnus found it charming that they simply moved from snuggling at his apartment to snuggling in a magnificent garden, but he found no fault with the situation, so he said nothing. It was Alec who broke the silence again.

“I like it here,” he explained. “It’s like a completely different world from the rest of New York. I’ve never seen so much… nature.” He shook his head at the word nature , as if it were unfamiliar to him, and swept his arm broadly across the landscape. “Except maybe up in Michigan.”

Magnus sat up straighter, facing him.

“Have you ever lived anywhere that wasn’t the center of a massive city?” he asked. Alec shrugged, thinking back.

“No, not really. Only New York..”

“Well then,” Magnus concluded, “I’ve just thought of about a hundred other places I need to take you.” Alec seemed mesmerized by something, and traced Magnus’ lips with the tip of his index finger, growing completely absorbed in their softness. Suddenly, he dropped his hand and leaned forward, strong arms holding Magnus steady, as his eyes followed something behind Magnus. When Magnus twisted around to look, a brilliant flash of yellow caught his eye from the flowerbeds.

A canary-yellow butterfly flitted between blossoms, then landed lazily on a delicate white flower, surrounded by a mass of green foliage near its base. Alec watched raptly.

“Look! Its wings are so big,” he said. “The garden at the Institute only ever got small ones.”

We need to work on his tolerance, Magnus thought with amusement. He removed himself from the shadowhunter’s lap so Alec could meander over to the vibrant insect, staring with a child-like smile. Alec took another absent-minded hit from his vape, prompting Magnus to skitter over and lift it from his hands, hiding it in his own pocket. He was riding a pleasant, fuzzy high himself, but his mind was nowhere near the level Alec must be at to be hypnotized by a swallowtail butterfly.

Alec stood up abruptly, turning to Magnus as if to ask him something. He paused, thinking it through, and then continued.

“Nevermind,” Alec said, as if thinking better of some request. “I don’t need your help with this.” A dopey grin curled the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

Magnus stood rooted to the spot, confused, as Alec dashed off away from him, down the paved path toward a distant building with a curved roof. The café. What is he doing? Should I be worried?

Only moments later, he spotted the inebriated archer bolting back toward him with the swiftness of a shadowhunter who had activated his Speed Rune. Alec made a quick detour, dunking his hand in a water feature, and then came to a stop a few feet away from Magnus, shaking droplets from his fingers. He closed the remaining distance at a delicate walk, clearly concerned about scaring off the butterfly.

“Alexander,” Magnus, inquired slowly, one eyebrow raised, “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” Alec demanded in a mock whisper. “Don’t scare it.”

With an adorably intense concentration that could only come from hopeless intoxication, Alec produced a sugar packet from his pocket and tore one side of it off, dumping it on the watery fingers of his left hand, and rubbing it around to coat them thoroughly.

“I was going to ask you to summon sugar,” Alec explained distractedly, as if that clarified anything, “but then I remembered that café from last time.”

“I would have summoned sugar for you, if that’s what would make you happy…” Magnus responded hesitantly, keeping his voice quiet so as not to be shushed again. “Care to explain to me why?” Was there something else in that weed?

Alec sat on the flagstone wall next to the flowers, motioning Magnus to do the same. The warlock followed suit, still waiting for an explanation. Alec stared into his eyes with an intensity that caught Magnus off guard. Normally he was the one with an overabundance of feelings, but for once, the roles were reversed.

“I know you would have, Magnus,” Alec answered earnestly. He held his sugar-coated hand in the air between them, next to the flower, which still bobbed erratically as the butterfly poked around. “But I don’t like to ask you to. It means a lot when you do help me with things, and I don’t want to take that for granted.” Alec rested his non-sugary right hand on Magnus’ knee, but his attention shifted back to the butterfly, and he slouched slightly to level his face with it. He lowered his voice, murmuring in its direction. “Especially when I’m perfectly capable of accomplishing things on my own.”

A toasty current of affection coiled in the pit of Magnus’ stomach. He realized his own high had crept in strongly without him noticing, leaving him in a heady haze. His shadowhunter may be crazy, but he was good.

“But… what exactly are you trying to accomplish?” Magnus pressed again, grinning at how intently Alec watched the insect, frozen in place. His dropped his hand over the one that Alec left on his knee, sliding his thumb fondly across the back of it. Tiny, invisible sparks of joy radiated out from where they touched, and Magnus’ hand hummed with elation. Alec’s smile remained unwavering as he glanced between Magnus and the bug.

“When I was a kid,” he started, “I used to play in the Institute’s rooftop garden outside of the greenhouse.” He turned his right hand upright, entwining his fingers with Magnus’. “It was very utilitarian, no crazy flowers or anything like this place, but plenty of the vegetables bloomed. And even though I didn’t really get a lot of free time, I’d spend some of it up there. It was the only time I got to be alone.”

Magnus smiled and squeezed Alec’s hand, trying to picture a tiny version of him capering around amongst the vegetables. Alec continued, his voice quiet and rumbling, still focused on not scaring the butterfly.

“We’d get a few stray butterflies up there—nothing like this guy. I discovered that I could get them to come hang out with me in exchange for a tasty little treat.” His voice raised affectionately at the end of the last sentence, enunciating each syllable as if the butterfly might comprehend.

Magnus bit his lip. His heart hurt . He could not imagine mini Alexander Lightwood hopping around a garden, playing with butterflies. It seemed so contrary to the stern, grumpy Institute leader he first met. The man in front of him was neither stern, nor grumpy. No inhibitions or worries to weigh him down, he grinned adoringly at insects, and fed them sweet treats just because they were pretty. Oblivious to Magnus’ moonstruck stare, Alec murmured something unintelligible to the swallowtail.

In that moment, Magnus realized that he was without a doubt, 100%, falling utterly and completely, head over heels in love.

“Nooo,” Alec whispered. The butterfly propelled itself from its flowery perch in a tumble of fluttering wings. It flapped in bouncy circles around them. Alec hopped up, following it around for several seconds, head darting from side to side as he tried to keep it in his field of view. Suddenly, Magnus could imagine exactly how tiny Alec must have looked, gamboling about on the Institute roof. The shadowhunter gave up quickly, plopping back down next to Magnus, expression sorrowful. “I tried,” he mourned.

Magnus’ heart broke. He actually felt tears prickling the backs of his eyes. Alec is never, ever going to get this high ever again once this wears off. He’ll be so upset with me. But he is so, so pure.

“I’m sorry, Alexander,” he soothed. “Do you want me to charm it?”

“No,” Alec laughed. He grinned up at the warlock. “Don’t you get it? That takes away all the fun.” He stroked Magnus’ cheek with his clean hand, then leaned in for a brief kiss. Magnus felt cool fire ignite behind his lips even in only those few fleeting seconds before the shadowhunter pulled away again.

“There’s just something so gratifying about it,” Alec continued, staring wistfully at his sticky, sugarcoated fingers. “It’s like, there’s this other creature, that has no reason to trust you, and every reason not to. But you’re saying ‘Hey, I like you. You make the world brighter. I want to make you happy, too.’ And the creature has to take a leap of faith, and it does, and for just a couple seconds, everything is perfect—just because you trusted each other.”

Alec stared off into the sky, still dreaming about butterflies. Magnus stared wide-eyed at him, eyes burning. That’s how I feel about you , he wanted to say. He held his tongue, afraid of ruining the moment. He fingered Alec's witchlight, which rested snugly in his pocket—a reminder that Alec was the creature that made his world brighter. Next to him, Alec blinked in surprise then looked down at the stone between them, where his left hand now rested. Magnus followed his gaze.

The swallowtail butterfly had returned, sneaking up behind them on silent wings. It flailed inquisitively as it investigated the sugar crystals that coated Alec’s fingers, its long, thin proboscis curling out, tasting tentatively. Alec’s breathtaking smile returned for an encore, lighting up the universe. Magnus’ mind floated dizzily. How did this man exist?

Alec carefully lifted his hand, cooing at the butterfly as it danced across his knuckles.

“Hey there, little buddy,” he crooned. “You’re very beautiful. You remind me a lot of someone I know.” Alec looked up, eyes locking with Magnus’, gaze overflowing with sincerity, jubilance, and fondness. Magnus blushed, completely speechless yet again

“I refuse to forget this moment,” he finally managed, overwhelmed by Alec’s candidness. He dug his phone out of his pocket. Everything moved as if the world was made of Jell-O. Perhaps he had also had a bit too much. He flipped his camera to the front facing mode, angling it to capture both him and Alec.

“Hold it up,” he ordered in a giggly mumble. Alec obliged, draping his arm across Magnus’ back. Magnus giggled again. “This is amazing,” he choked out. “Okay, smile.”

He had to try four times to get a good angle. Alec posed patiently, pausing here and there to give the butterfly little pep talks if it flapped its wings too nervously.

“It’s okay, little buddy. Just a few more seconds,” he cooed. His onyx bracelets clattered quietly on Magnus’ shoulder. The warlock’s heart warmed. He loved that Alec still wore them even when he didn’t need to.

“Got it,” he finally declared.

“What a good boy,” Alec sweet-talked his insect friend. He held it up tenderly to the flower he originally spotted it on, scraping a few sugar crystals from his fingers to dust the pale petals. With a little more gentle coaxing, the swallowtail drifted back over to where it started. He brushed the rest of the sugar off of his hand onto the other nearby flowers, rubbing his fingers together brusquely to completely clean them off.

“Alright, let me see it,” Alec demanded with a grin. He turned his face back toward Magnus, and was caught unexpectedly in a kiss. He stumbled backwards, almost taking the warlock with him, but steadied them both. Even high, he maintained his shadowhunter reflexes. He melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around his cat-eyed warlock.

“You’re astounding,” Magnus finally uttered, stopping for a breath.

“Says the man who amazes me literally every day,” Alec protested, somehow taken aback at the compliment. “You don’t make any sense.”

Magnus could only laugh at that, shaking his head.

“Here, let me post this. You can help me edit.”

Alec scooted curiously toward the warlock, pressing his body against Magnus’ and peering over his shoulder.

“Post it where?”

“Instagram. It’s what all the cool kids use these days.”

“Are you worried about the others seeing?” Alec asked, completely innocently. Magnus paused, weighing how to answer, suddenly hesitant as he remembered Alec’s earlier trepidations.

“Are you?” he finally questioned. Alec thought about it, resting his chin on the warlock’s shoulder. He sighed deeply, and mulled things over very seriously. Magnus’ heart began to droop. I shouldn’t have asked, he realized.

Catching the warlock off-guard, Alec twisted and landed a peck on Magnus’ cheek.

“Nope,” he chirped.

Magnus stepped away, sitting back down on the flagstone wall as the world spun. Alec followed him, sitting so close that their thighs pressed tightly together.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked, suddenly all no-nonsense concern. Magnus would not even have known he was high if he hadn’t just seen the man whisper honeyed words to a butterfly.

“Yes, of course,” he stammered. He leaned in to his shadowhunter, heart leaping when Alec wrapped an arm around him and rested his chin back on Magnus’ shoulder. Heart settling, he lifted his phone back up so they both could see, and focused on the half-finished post.

“Here… which do you like better? Crema… or… Aden?” Alec contemplated Magnus’ inquiry, then shook his head, chin rubbing across Magnus’ shirt.

“They look the same to me,” he mumbled through lazily closed teeth.

“Fine. Aden then.” Magnus tapped the filter, making a few more detailed adjustments before saving it and moving on to the caption.

Alec examined the text when Magnus finished typing, brow furrowed. “I’m your boyfriend?” he finally asked, overwhelmed with tender surprise.

Magnus fought to control his grin. “Well, do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Alec answered, barely allowing Magnus time to finish the question.

“Then you are,” Magnus concluded. He turned to steal another kiss from his boyfriend, tracing his tongue along Alec’s lips as he tapped the button to submit his post.

Chapter Text

Magnus Bane - 10:04

omw, sorry.

Since I’m running late anyways, do you want coffee?

You got up so early.

Alec Lightwood - 10:04

It’s fine, no rush. It’s just me and you doing the questioning.

Izzy might observe. Neither of us mind waiting for you.

Coffee sounds great.

Alec realized he was smiling down at his phone like an idiot. He sat on the sofa in his office, waiting for Magnus and Izzy to meet him there. It was such a small thing, Magnus asking if he wanted coffee, commenting on the time he woke up. But it made him feel somehow at home—like some piece that he didn’t know was missing fell into place, and now he was complete. He used to make fun of mundanes for things like this—checking their phones constantly, texting and browsing social media. Now, as of late the night before, he had his own Instagram account. Nevermind the fact that it was completely empty, and only existed so he could follow Magnus and stare wide-eyed at the photo of them that the warlock had posted from the gardens.

They looked so happy, so natural. He could not resist going back to look at it every few hours like clockwork, as if to confirm that it had really happened. He also could not resist checking the likes on the post—only two of which he recognized: Clary’s pet vampire Simon Lewis, and Magnus’ warlock friend Catarina Loss. He was genuinely surprised to see Catarina on there—from their brief interaction, she did not seem to him like the type of person who would spend much time on a phone. Tapping through to her profile confirmed that suspicion—like his, her account was empty. 

Much to his surprise, Alec had found he actually enjoyed browsing around and checking out the profiles of local downworlders. It was refreshing to see vampires and werewolves and warlocks posting pictures of food and evenings out with friends like normal people—it reminded Alec that they were normal people. He almost only ever encountered downworlders in times of tragedy or danger for them. It gave him hope to see their lives in a different context.

“Is that Instagram?” Izzy’s voice piped up over Alec’s shoulder. He had not heard her enter, too wrapped up in his newfound phone addiction. “Since when are you on there? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Alec jumped, glad he had been staring at an empty profile and not the picture of him and Magnus. He hastily flipped the screen off and shoved the phone into his pocket. “I was looking through recent posts by some local warlocks,” he said truthfully.

Izzy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Of course,” she groaned. “Only you could find a way to turn browsing Instagram into Clave duties.” Alec shifted himself on the couch to better face his sister, who walked around the side of it and plopped down. He glanced around the room, suddenly anxious. When was Magnus going to arrive? His phone buzzed and he pulled it out again, the bracelets on his left hand clicking gently together as he did so.

Magnus Bane - 10:16

3 more minutes! I stopped off in that place I told you about in New Jersey. You’re going to love their house special lattes.

Alec grinned. He doubted he would actually enjoy the latte itself—they weren’t really his style. But he already knew he would drink it anyways.

“Are you wearing jewelry?” Izzy asked, taking notice of his wrist. “What is going on with you? You’re actually smiling , Alec. It’s like being named Head of the Institute changed you.” She quickly backpedaled at Alec’s startled expression. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s great, whatever it is. You seem different the past few weeks… like, happy, I guess. It’s just really showing today, is all. I’m glad of it. It’s really good to see you happy.”

Alec blinked at her. Was he really that different? He hadn’t thought so. Instinct kicked in, his mind racing for some excuse, some explanation. Izzy had handed him an easy one already—being Head of the Institute suited him, that was all. He opened his mouth to explain everything away—but then he stopped. His eyes dropped to the bracelets she was asking about. A gift from Magnus. He thought of the cabin in Michigan, and the botanical garden, and Magnus’ Instagram post.

I’m not hiding any more, he reminded himself sternly. He took a deep breath and scooted more comfortably onto the sofa. Izzy watched him curiously, catching on to his anxiety.

“Actually, Izzy,” he started, exhaling nervously as he spoke, “they were a gift.” He fingered the beads fondly, then removed one bracelet and slid it back on, smiling at the almost inaudible crackle and pop as the enchantment invisibly broke and reformed. It was becoming an absent-minded habit already, rolling the onyx up over his wrist just to hear the soothing sound of Magnus’ magic.

“A… gift?” Izzy’s question came more cautiously now. She wanted to satisfy her sisterly nosiness, but also didn’t want to push too hard and scare him off—it was a tone Alec had become intimately familiar with over the years, because it usually resulted in him turning and walking away, fleeing to some quiet place where he could be safe from her prying. This time, he resolved to stay, and to have an honest heart to heart with his sister—the one person in the world whom he knew for sure loved him unconditionally. “Who would give you bracelets?” she asked, her eyes darting between the glassy black beads and the smile playing across Alec’s lips. “Doesn’t seem like the first thing a person would think of when they know you.”

“They were, um, from… “ Alec trailed off and fought down the familiar apprehension that bubbled up in his stomach, twisting his insides. There’s already a public Instagram post—Clary’s vampire has seen it and he’s incapable of tactful silence. You chose this. Man up. “My...” he managed, rubbing the back of his neck. “... my—my boyfriend.”

It felt so, so good to say that out loud. The constricting weight lifted from Alec’s chest. He took another deep breath, and it steadied him. The smile fought its way free again, ghosting across his lips. “My boyfriend gave them to me,” he repeated quietly but affectionately.

The silence that followed stretched on long enough for Alec’s doubt to snowball. He thought he might throw up. Izzy stared at him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and jaw dropped. Finally, she quietly murmured, “Oh. My. God.” Alec’s heart hammered in his chest. Was that bad? Was she connecting all the dots, growing angrier and angrier as she realized how long he had been keeping this from her?

He jumped and tensed, taken by surprise, when she threw her arms around him and squealed, almost tackling him backwards onto the cushions. “Oh my gosh, Alec! That’s so amazing! I’m so proud of you!” He hugged her back gingerly, still processing her reaction as she leaned back, clasped his hands, and assaulted him with questions. “You have to tell me everything . What’s his name? How did you meet? How long have you been seeing each other?! Is he a shadowhunter? A downworlder? A mundane ?! Oh my god, wait, how public are you about this? Like, do you want me to keep it quiet, or is this like, a Facebook official type thing?” She waited, eyes shining, an excited grin lighting up her features. Alec blushed, taken aback by her enthusiasm. His heart warmed.

I should have been more honest with her from the beginning. He repeated the questions in his mind, wondering what ‘ Facebook official ’ meant. “Well, um, you don’t have to keep it quiet. We kind of decided last night to be… official. I think. So talking about it is fine I guess.” Alec liked this feeling. He pushed forward, one corner of his lips pulled upward into a big, lopsided smile. He decided to spill everything. “We’ve been seeing each other since right around when the Melusine investigation started. It’s actually—”

“Wait, that long?! Alec, oh my gosh! That’s like, an actual relationship . Is it serious?” Izzy slouched low, leaning back against the arm rest to settle in for what she clearly hoped to be a detailed story. Alec sucked his lips in, trying to stifle the smile that just kept growing bigger.

“Um, I’d like it to be serious, yes. I’m— I think I’m— I mean, I really like him, Iz.” Alec was about to continue, to explain to her that it was Magnus, but she launched forward and threw her arms around him again.

“I’m sorry I know I keep interrupting you and I swear I’ll stop because I want to hear all about it, every detail, but this is so amazing, Alec. I’m just so happy for you and I need to hug you! Your smile is so beautiful and genuine and it makes me want to cry.” Izzy’s words came as a muffled stream of high-pitched, borderline nonsense. Alec waited patiently for her to vent the elation out of her system, resting his chin on her head.

“I did not expect such a dramatic response,” he admitted.

“Well I did not expect you to grow up so quickly, especially after the whole Lydia fiasco. I’m allowed to be happy!” Izzy’s voice remained muffled in his shirt.

Alec frowned. “Hey, I’m the older sibling, you don’t get to say stuff like that.” Izzy pulled back, grinning and giggling at him, and returning to her earlier relaxed pose.

“Let’s be real, Alec. In the realm of relationships, I get to play the role of the big sister.” Alec rolled his eyes, but let it slide. “Okay,” Izzy said, calming herself. “So. What’s his name? Do I know him?”

Before Alec could respond, a shimmering golden portal sprang to life next to them. Magnus stepped out, two steaming to-go cups in hand, nestled in brown cardboard sleeves that read Cloveberry . Magnus halted in front of the brother and sister, glancing between them. “I feel like I’ve interrupted a family powwow.” His eyes settled questioningly on Alec, his tone hesitantly upbeat.

Izzy answered for him, cutting in smugly. “We were just talking about Alec’s new boyfriend ,” she purred, taking immediate advantage of Alec’s permission to discuss his relationship openly. “It seems you’ve missed your chance, Magnus. I hope your mystery lover is worth it.”

Alec snorted, then bit his lip, cutting off a laugh. Magnus tilted his head, dimples indenting his cheeks as he, too, stifled a beaming smile. “And who is this handsome new man in Alexander’s life?” he asked without missing a beat, feigning shock. Alec covered his mouth with one hand, staring at the ceiling for a moment to compose himself. His boyfriend’s timing was impeccable.

“Yeah, spill!” Izzy taunted, turning her attention back to Alec and smacking his foot gently. “Magnus won’t mind waiting. He was late anyways.” She noticed the two cups in Magnus’ hand, then sighed longingly. “I really hope one of those is for me.”

“She’s right,” Magnus agreed, smirking at Alec. “I really don’t mind at all. I’d love to hear this juicy gossip.” He shot Izzy an apologetic glance as he offered the extra coffee to her brother. His glamoured brown eyes sparkled when they returned to seek out Alec’s, clearly pleased at what he had walked in on. Alec bit his lip, pushing himself up off of the sofa, then reached out to accept the offered beverage. As he did so, he leaned forward to whisper into Magnus’ ear, his hand brushing his elbow, and the warlock’s lips curled upward into a bashful smile.

“Is it weird if I kiss you on the cheek?” Alec murmured sheepishly, so only they could hear. His heart hammered in his throat, anxiety dancing through his chest. He wondered if that was too much. He could hear Magnus swallow, then saw him shake his head subtly. Magnus Bane was the king of too much—it was one of the many things Alec loved about him.

“That is fine by me,” Magnus said, a bit breathlessly, almost chuckling. The flutter from his words tickled Alec’s shoulder.

Alec leaned out the scant two inches it took to close the remaining distance between them, planting a very gentle kiss on the side of the warlock’s face. Then he stepped back, steaming cardboard cup in hand. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said warmly. Magnus nodded, a very charming blush creeping up his neck. Alec did not get to see that blush very often, and he adored it.

He finally managed to tear his eyes away from Magnus to gauge Izzy’s reaction. She wore a similar expression to the one from earlier, when Alec first mentioned the existence of any boyfriend at all. Only this time, her palms were pressed flat together in front of her face, index fingers resting pensively over her lips. Her eyes darted between them, drawing all the necessary conclusions regarding the past several weeks. Both men sipped at their coffees and waited patiently for Izzy to move or speak.

Alec tasted his latte hesitantly, bracing himself to feign enjoyment. The frothy milk that met his lips was sugary and sweet, but not in the cloying, processed way that most lattes were. It was natural, and a bit spiced. It made Alec think of pumpkin pie.

“What is this?” he asked Magnus, not hiding the surprise in his voice. “It’s really, really good.”

“Honey cinnamon with oat milk,” Magnus said, satisfaction evident. “I thought you’d like that.”

“What’s yours?” Alec asked curiously, venturing down to steal a sip from Magnus’ cup. He immediately regretted the decision, his nose scrunching up. “Ugh.”

“Toffee nut with almond milk,” Magnus laughed. “It’s very sweet, a bit of an acquired taste.”

“It’s oily,” Alec complained.

“And that’s why I got you something else, panda.”

“Nope,” Alec blanched, “panda is not happening.”

“No?” Magnus asked, double checking hopefully.

“No,” Alec asserted firmly.

“No,” Izzy cut in. Alec and Magnus paused their bickering to look at her. She threw her hands up in the air. “No,” she said again. “I don’t believe you. This is an awful joke, like the time with the wings.” She shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Not possible,” Magnus assured. “Alexander doesn’t have the sense of humor for that.”

“Hey,” Alec protested.

“But…” Izzy trailed off, clearly still troubled by something. She hesitated, looking between the two men. “No,” she denied again. “That would mean you were together when… when Magnus had all those hickeys and bruises. Magnus was seeing someone else back then…”

Alec rubbed his hands on his face, embarrassment flushing his pale complexion scarlet. Magnus snorted. “Nope,” Alec choked out. “That was me.” His hands rested over his mouth, and he stared down at the sofa beneath him as if not looking at the other parties in the room could make him invisible.

“No,” Izzy disbelieved. “No way. I don’t believe that.” She shook her head decisively.

“I can assure you, those marks were very much from Alexander,” Magnus piped up. He winked at Alec. Alec’s cheeks went hot. Memories flashed through his mind—the kind of memories he was not comfortable reliving in the presence of his sister. He buried his face fully in his hands.

“Can the conversation be over now?” he groaned from behind his palms.

“Wait, so you mean that time that I was talking to you about Magnus’ mystery woman… and… and how licentious she was…” Izzy paled. “I was talking… about you?!” Her hands covered her mouth, horrified. “And the bite marks were yours?!”

Alec nodded, sitting back and looking anywhere except at his sister. His eyes found Magnus’, and the warlock smirked, enjoying every second of this unexpected revelation. “This isn’t funny,” Alec insisted.

“Yes it is,” Magnus grinned. “Did your sister really call you licentious?”

“No,” Izzy wailed. “I called him kinky, possessive, and crazy.” She counted off the adjectives on her fingers. “To his face! My brother!”

Magnus nodded thoughtfully. “All of those are fair.”

“Magnus!” Alec exclaimed.

“What?” Magnus objected to Alec’s mortification.

“By the Angel,” Alec groaned. He stood up, fleeing at a reasonable walking pace to his desk, where he could sit with some form of barrier between himself and the other occupants of the room, his latte abandoned on the coffee table. “We are not talking about this. Izzy, can you give us a second before we head down?” He rested his face back into his hands, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the humiliating turn the conversation had taken.

“I’m still 90% sure I’m being punked,” Izzy quipped. She looked gleeful, like she might burst out into laughter or song. “But if this isn’t a joke, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Alec. I mean, damn , good for you! Magnus is a hot piece of ass.” She eyed the warlock appreciatively.

“Thank you, Isabelle,” Magnus answered, putting on a little show of bowing. “I agree.”

“Nope, you’re not teaming up on me,” Alec declared. “Izzy, get out.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be waiting down by the cells. Once we get this interrogation over with, I demand more details on how this ,” she pointed between them aggressively, “supposedly happened without my knowledge. Because I still think you’re lying until proven otherwise.”

“Why would I lie about that?!” Alec exclaimed. But she was already gone, the door swinging shut behind her as her laughs lingered in the air. Alec returned his attention to Magnus. “You’re a traitor,” he accused.

“What did I ever do to deserve that?” Magnus whined, mocking offense. “I showed up here with incredible coffee for you from an entire state away, only to find you gossiping about me with your sister like a pair of old hens. All I did was contribute to the conversation.” Magnus wandered over toward the desk as he spoke, sitting on it and leaving his latte next to Alec’s.

Alec stood, walking around to the front of the desk to properly face the warlock. “You encouraged her,” he cited. “And called me… crazy. And kinky. And possessive.”

Magnus grinned. “You are, even if you won’t admit it to yourself yet. I adore it.” He shuffled forward enough from where he was sitting to wrap his ankles around Alec’s legs, pulling him toward him. A mundane might have stumbled forward, which had been Magnus’ goal, but Alec did not. Instead, he walked forward begrudgingly.

“I am not crazy,” Alec protested. “Or possessive. Or…” He trailed off at the last one, wondering at what point someone qualified as kinky. Magnus seemed to take note, pulling him in closer and and smiling wickedly.

“So you’re saying that if I wanted you to mark me again, right now, so everyone we talk to today can see that I belong to someone… that wouldn’t interest you at all?” Magnus teased quietly. He tugged Alec even closer, so the shadowhunter leaned over him on the desk and their bodies pressed together. "You don't want to enjoy their reactions when they realize I belong to you?" Magnus’ pupils expanded, swirls of gold flickering around them. Alec could not deny the rush of desire that flooded his body at the idea of getting to see Magnus walking around with a mark on his neck, one that he gave him. He swallowed restlessly.

How does he do that? How is everything he says so sexy? “We have somewhere to be,” Alec managed. He did not pull away.

“So you better hurry up,” Magnus taunted. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt to open up easier access to his neck. The shirt was black with white squares, lightweight and much more casual than his usual style. Alec was hot for it—something about Magnus in his more relaxed outfits drove him wild. But Magnus in any outfit drove him wild.

"In my office?" Alec asked weakly, his resolve wavering.

"Do you want to?" Magnus whispered. He leaned up, closing the space between them to nibble at Alec's ear. "Make out with your boyfriend on your desk?"

It's just a few minutes… Alec's eyes raked over Magnus hungrily. That phrase echoed through his mind: my boyfriend. He gripped the back of Magnus' neck, pulling him up into an open-mouthed kiss. Magnus gasped, grinding into him. They leaned back against the desk. Alec lips searched downward, latching onto Magnus' neck and sucking.

"Hmmm…" Magnus sighed. Alec bit down slightly, darkening the rising bruise. He kissed it with satisfaction.

Magnus dug his fingernails into the back of Alec's neck, breathing slowly to try to compose himself while Alec pulled back, examining his handiwork. Alec recalled then that they were at the Institute, and that Magnus had come there for other, more important reasons. "I'm sorry.  Was that okay?" Alec asked hesitantly. "Gods… we should get down to Izzy. I'm so sorry."

Magnus shook his head. "I didn't really expect you to go for it," he said breathlessly. "But it's so hot that you did."

"I think you're a really bad influence on me,” Alec stammered. “Why did I actually do that?”

"Because you're kinky, possessive, and crazy," Magnus teased. He swept one more quick kiss across Alec's lips, rubbing the small bruise on his own neck before re-buttoning his shirt. The fresh bruise peeked out just over his collar. "All qualities I adore in a boyfriend. Let’s go find your sister.”

“I am not,” Alec contended, but his heart wasn’t in it. He followed close behind Magnus down to the Institute’s substructure, his head spinning.

Chapter Text

Silence dominated the elevator ride down to the subfloors of the Institute. Alec and Magnus shot sly grins toward each other, and the shadowhunter’s eyes were almost incapable of straying from the darkened bruise on Magnus’ neck. Alec struggled to find words beyond his circling thoughts on the steamy tryst in his office. His mind landed on the events only a few moments before that, when Magnus stepped through the portal.

“You know,” Alec admitted, carefully searching for the right words, “I’ve kind of fantasized about the day when you’d show up to the Institute and I’d get to greet you with a kiss on the cheek like that. I know it’s dumb. It just… it made me really happy.” He leaned back against the wall of the small space.

Magnus’ smile lit up Alec’s world. The warlock had a habit, when he was very touched by something, of always looking slightly surprised—as if he could not believe someone would have feelings for him the way Alec did. Alec found it to be incredibly charming. He wanted to throw his arms around him, nuzzle into his shoulder, and never move. “It’s not stupid at all,” Magnus answered. “It’s very sweet. I’d be lying if I said I had not entertained similar thoughts.” The admission warmed Alec’s heart. Then Magnus’ smile cocked to one side, his expression turning devious. “And I’m very interested to hear what other fantasies you’ve had about me, Alexander.”

Alec blushed and stuttered, prompting a laugh from the warlock. Unbidden, another forgotten thought wriggled its way to the surface. “Actually,” Alec realized thoughtfully, staring at the floor, “there is one I’ve kind of been meaning to ask you about.” His blush deepened as he recalled the one thing he really wanted to try.

Magnus’ eyes lit up, his face a thrilling mix of curiosity and excitement. But before Alec could say anything else, the elevator reached its destination, doors sliding open. Izzy stood a few yards down the hall, facing away from them toward a floor to ceiling glass window. Past Izzy, shackled to the center of the floor of the cell behind the window, sat Melusine.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Alec murmured with a deep breath, his demeanor instantly transforming into a more serious, carefully blank facade. A gentle, unexpected touch on his right hand signaled Magnus’ pinky finding his. Alec reciprocated the gesture, weaving his fingers through Magnus’ and squeezing his hand reassuringly. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Magnus answered quietly. “I have you by my side.”

Alec’s heart leaped. It hastily settled as they approached the end of the hallway, his mind finally fully entering a more mission-oriented headspace—what Magnus had previously jokingly called his “shadowhunter mode.”

Izzy turned to appraise them as they approached. “Took you long enough,” she snorted. Her eyes found Magnus’ neck immediately. “Really?” she asked, exasperated. “That’s what held you up? Are you trying to prove a point, or are you just animals?” Alec bit his lip and shrugged, still pushing back the blush from earlier.

Magnus answered. “I was trying to prove a point,” he smirked. “But not to you.”

“Are we sure Alec isn’t possessed?” Izzy asked skeptically.

Alec took offense to that. “Oh come on, Izzy,” he protested. “I’m not a mundane. I would never let that happen to me.” His bashfulness faded completely, swept aside by indignance at the insult.

Izzy shrugged. “I’m just saying. You never know. But let’s get this over with first. Then I’ll go back to trying to prove that you two are just very dedicated to pulling my leg.”

Alec nodded, getting straight back down to business. “This way, Magnus” he beckoned.

 They entered the room from the side, the window to their left appearing as a mirror from this perspective, though Alec knew Izzy stood just beyond it watching them. Melusine stared into it blankly, indicating no acknowledgement of their entrance.

“Mel—“ Magnus started, then corrected himself. “Genevieve.” Momentary confusion swept over Alec until he remembered Magnus’ story of how they met—back then, her name was Genevieve.

Melusine’s attention redirected swiftly upward, her eyes focusing in on the warlock as she startled. Alec hung back, standing guard at the door. He noticed the bruise on Magnus’ neck fade away, and wondered whether Magnus had healed it or glamoured it. “Mr. Bane?” Melusine asked, her voice small. “Is that really you? Why are you calling me that?”

“Cut the act,” Alec grunted. He had little patience for mind games today, and he would not tolerate her toying with Magnus as she had before. Melusine’s eyes darted sharply to him, appraising her opponent. A flash of recognition and satisfaction flitted from her gaze just as quickly as it had appeared, and her focus returned to Magnus.

“They’ve been torturing me, Mr. Bane,” she pleaded, flinching away from the door and from Alec. She crawled backwards along the floor until her restraints pulled taut. Magnus’ hardened glare wavered. He shot Alec a hesitant glance. Alec knew that certain unpleasant realities of the past were not taught in the Clave’s history lessons—unpleasant realities like the torture of downworlders in decades past. It broke his heart that Magnus had likely witnessed some of those horrors.

“They said there were awful things in my house,” Melusine continued. ”I didn’t put those there, I swear I didn’t.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She looked every bit the helpless child that Alec had originally assumed her to be. “Please let me out,” she begged weakly. “I didn’t do it.”

Magnus’ resolve crumbled. He looked helplessly again in Alec’s direction. Alec did not know what to say—he had not been to the cells since the night they had captured her. He could offer no believable words of assurance other than what Magnus already knew—that he would never abide torture in this Institute. It had been a very, very long time since the Clave at large had resorted to such measures, but Alec knew that time mattered less to immortals. Magnus swallowed, dropping his eyes to the floor guiltily, aware that Alec could see his uncertainty.

“Make him leave, please,” Melusine whimpered, emboldened by Magnus’ hesitance.

“Make whom leave?” Magnus asked softly.

“ Him .” Melusine’s trembling gaze raised just enough to indicate in Alec’s direction. “It was him, Mr. Bane. He hurt me.”

Alec raised an eyebrow, torn between admiration and distaste at her audacity. Magnus stood up a bit straighter. Unable to see the warlock’s expression while he faced the girl, Alec worried for just a second that Magnus might be putting some weight into Melusine’s words. Then Magnus snorted. “Quit your sniveling, Gen.” His tone completely changed, all traces of gentleness gone. “Sit up and stop playing games.”

Alec realized he had been clenching his hands tightly behind his back. He released his death grip, clasping them more gently as relief relaxed his posture. Melusine rolled her eyes, pushing herself up to her knees and then to her feet, the chains between them clanking together. Her diminutive frame was dwarfed by the two men in the room, but neither size nor chains diminished the gravity of her presence when that childlike mask crumbled away. Melusine’s eyes were cold, and distant, as if she looked straight past anyone in front of her. To Alec, she appeared almost as if she were dead—more so than any vampire he had met. Vampires, at least, usually had souls.

“What do you want, Magnus?” Melusine asked. Her tone held a level of authority and annoyance that implied she was in charge, as if the two of them had just come barging into her office. “You took your sweet time coming to see me.”

Magnus shrugged. “Clave approval takes a while. They don’t normally allow downworlder prisoners to be questioned by other downworlders. Luckily, I have connections.”

“You mean your boyfriend over there?” Melusine asked venomously. Her eyes flicked toward the mirror. Alec realized she must know it was a window—she was old, and smart, and he would not be surprised if she had been in similar situations before. She clearly recalled the awkward exchange in the lighthouse about his and Magnus’ relationship status—and hoped they had spectators.

“Yes,” Magnus answered, not without amusement. “I do mean my boyfriend over there. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Melusine’s eyes narrowed. One short, wavy blonde strand of hair fell forward across her face. She did not move to brush it away. “I told you, I already used those ingredients. You can’t have them.”

“But there is something else,” Magnus pressed. “It wasn’t a one time spell, was it? It was an enchantment.” This was news to Alec. He paid close attention to Melusine’s reaction.

A slow smile crept across the girl’s face. “You’re catching on, Magnus.”

“Where is it?” Magnus asked.

“Gone,” Melusine stated simply. “At least it might as well be, to you. You’ll never get your hands on it.”

“Who has it?” Magnus asked.

Before he could finish the sentence, Melusine was interrupting him. “Shhh,” she dragged out soothingly, one thin, frail finger laid across her own lips. “It’s a secret.”

“What is it?” Magnus asked, ignoring her shushing and moving straight on to the next question.

Melusine paused at that one. Magnus’ face was carefully neutral, and the girl seemed to be judging how much he already knew, and what he meant by the question. “A gift,” she answered finally, “to someone who loved me when you would not.”

“What did you enchant?” Magnus asked more specifically.

Now Melusine grinned—an unsettling expression, dripping with satisfaction. “I can’t wait until you see it,” she said.

“That’s not an answer,” Magnus pointed out.

“True,” Melusine acknowledged. “Have you been missing anything important?”

“What is this item intended to do?” Magnus asked, moving on from the non-answer. Alec could tell that her question bothered him. “Aside from creating new demons.”

“Creating… ?” Melusine’s eyes widened in what Alec thought might be genuine surprise—but he did not think he had ever witnessed a genuine emotion from her, so he could not be sure. “Well,” she mused after some thought, “I suppose it could do that, technically, if used on a mundane. I never got a chance to test that one. Though I’m sure the new owner will.”

“Who is the new owner?”

Melusine only smiled sweetly and shook her head. “Unlike some people, I don’t betray my family. But you wouldn’t understand, Magnus. You’ve been turning on your own family since you were a child. Isn’t that right?”

Magnus tensed. What does that mean? Alec wondered. He did not have time to speculate, because Magnus spun on his heel and strode toward the door.

“We’re done here,” the warlock said, his voice strained. “She’s not going to give us anything.” Alec eyed their prisoner, trying to gauge her expression—smug. Then he followed Magnus out.

“Magnus,” he stopped his boyfriend with a hand to the shoulder as the heavy door slammed shut behind them. “Stop, what happened? Are you okay?” What did she mean by that? he wanted to ask. But he held off. His first priority was Magnus’ wellbeing, and he could not discern that if Magnus was running away from him.

Magnus rubbed his face with his hands, releasing the pent up stress in his shoulders. His eyes landed on Izzy, who approached hesitantly, not wanting to intrude. “I’m fine,” he assured both of them. “She’s just so different than she used to be. She knows about many of the darker moments from my past. I never expected her to use those secrets against me—at least not back when I first shared them with her. She was a sweet girl.” Now, he only sounded sad.

Alec rested a steadying hand on his back. He caught Izzy smiling softly at the small gesture, but his focus remained on the warlock. “Let me finish this,” Alec suggested gently, lowering his head to keep Magnus’ gaze. “I have a list of questions that the Clave requires me to ask. She’s clearly not going to say any more than she already has. You don’t have to be in there.”

Magnus considered this, then nodded. “I thought maybe she would be more willing to speak to me, but it seems that I might just be a distraction. You go ask what you need to ask.”

“I’ll take you upstairs,” Izzy offered. “The elevator is secured so you can’t take it up alone.” Alec nodded to her gratefully. With one last hesitant glance at Alec, Magnus followed Izzy back down the hallway.

Alec turned back to the window, examining Melusine, alone in her cell. She had returned to kneeling in the center, staring forward toward the window with that same blank, empty stare. Her eyes seemed to rest right where Alec stood. Unnerved, he stepped to the side. Her eyes did not follow.

When Alec re-entered the room alone, Melusine did not visibly react, aside from a sly smile curling the corners of her thin lips. “Did Magnus run off scared?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Magnus is the High Warlock of Brooklyn,” Alec answered dismissively. “He has more important things to do than linger here when you’re clearly not interested in talking to him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Tell me about your friend,” Alec said. “Doesn’t seem like much of a friend, to abandon you here like this. To let you get captured.” His tone was matter-of-fact, casual, as he stared disinterestedly down at his phone.

Melusine smiled secretively. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made. He taught me that. And he’s not my friend.”

“You called him family,” Alec pointed out, taking a mental note that the person in possession of the weapon was male. He clasped his hands loosely behind his back, pacing thoughtfully back and forth between Melusin and the mirror..

“Family and friends are not often the same thing. I’m sure you of all people know that well, Alexander Lightwood.” Alec did not allow himself to react to her use of his full name. “As does your adoptive brother Jace,” Melusine added, “and his sister Clary.”

“Your family member, then,” Alec amended, staring intently at a spot on the bare concrete floor. Where did she get this information? “Is your family member a shadowhunter?” It was the only thing that made sense.

Melusine smiled, ignoring the question and addressing only the statement. “He’s like a father to me,” she clarified. “He stepped in after Magnus abandoned me.”

Alec changed the subject immediately, refusing to humor her fixation on Magnus. He produced his phone from his pocket once more and began reading down the list of required Clave questions, most of which were only tangentially relevant.

“Have you ever had any association with—”

“Magnus killed his parents, you know,” Melusine interrupted him. “He murdered them.” Alec stopped reading, and stared down at his phone, maintaining a carefully bored expression. Melusine continued without prompting. “He’s a monster. Ask him about it sometime.”

Alec shook his head, shoving the phone back into his pocket as he looked up at the warlock. Her eyes were still aimed past him, toward the mirror. Alec wondered if maybe she was just a narcissist. “How old are you, Melusine?” he asked. This was not on the list of questions.

Melusine’s eyes finally turned to him, some gleeful knowledge sparkling darkly within them. “Old enough that only a fool would come back in here alone, without any backup watching from the other side of that window,” she answered. The chill in her voice triggered something primal in Alec. Danger. He backed up toward the window in question, sizing her up.

“You can’t do magic in here,” he reasoned. He sounded more confident than he felt.

“I don’t need to,” she grinned. “You should not have sent your boyfriend and sister away,” she scolded. “You’re weak—your feelings for Magnus will be your undoing, just like they were for me.” Her eyes clouded over, dark and rippling. Something was very, very wrong.

Alec dashed toward the door, adrenaline surging through him. Before he reached it, something hot gripped him around his ribs. He slowed, as if running in a dream, struggling to push forward but unable to uproot himself. He felt it curling around him, muffling his senses, wrapping him in a humid, blackened haze. Behind him, Melusine giggled in a singsong voice.

“To love is to destroy.”

~

Alec stared at the brown wooden siding that lined the residential hallway of the Institute. Why was he on the floor? He sat slumped against the wall, and when he tried to move, everything ached. A twitch of his hands revealed something warm and sticky coating them. His attention fell downward, to where they rested in his lap. A thick haze of disorientation and confusion clouded his thoughts—what had he just been doing? The sticky substance coating his hands shone dark—a rusty, reddish brown. Blood.

Alec spread his fingers, bending them and staring at them. Had he been in a fight? He had never come out of a fight looking like this before, though he had not actually been involved in much real close-quarters combat, aside from the recent scuffle in Camille’s apartment. He was drenched in it. Scattered droplets and smudged footprints lead down the hallway and through a nearby door. Alec could not remember whose room it was.

“Alec.” A surprised voice to his right startled him, but he didn’t even flinch, too adrift in his brain fog to process any physical reaction. He looked up slowly, bloody hands resting in his lap, to see Clary Fairchild standing over him. A worrying mixture of shock and concern contorted her features. “Alec?” she repeated, this time a quiet, grave question. Her eyes scanned him, taking in the mess on his hands and clothes. Alec’s hands began to tremble, panic finally setting in as Clary dropped to her knees beside him, checking his vitals.

He choked out the words weakly, his throat dry and hoarse. “Clary. What did I do?”

Chapter Text

Magnus found a refreshing satisfaction in conversing with Isabelle Lightwood—her intelligence and vast scientific knowledge meshed well with Magnus’ magical expertise, making them great investigative partners. As they discussed the possibilities surrounding Melusine’s powerful enchantment, his earlier surge of despair faded away.

“If it’s a physically enchanted item, I would think it must be some sort of weapon,” Izzy speculated. “Like a sword, or a knife. That would make it easiest to activate, right? Instead of requiring some sort of ritual or incantation that an amulet or charm might need, just cut someone with it.” She demonstrated a stabbing motion in the air.

“That would be ideal for blood magic,” Magnus confirmed. “Which in this case, I think is very likely.” The bright, cheery ding of the elevator tugged Magnus’ attention away from the conversation. He leapt to his feet, meeting his boyfriend just outside the sliding mechanical doors, leaving Isabelle waiting for them by the table across the room.

“That was quick,” Magnus remarked as Alec stopped short, the shadowhunter’s attention drifting distractedly over him. He looked like he had somewhere to be, or perhaps had learned some new information, so Magnus resolved to make his words brief. “Thank you for finishing up down there without me—I’m sorry I ran out like that. I’m much better now that I’ve had a moment to pull myself together.” Alec watched him without reaction. Magnus hesitated, wondering if his outburst downstairs had upset the shadowhunter more than he had originally let on. ”Did you learn anything?” He laid a hopeful hand on Alec’s forearm, relishing the freedom to engage in that casual contact in public, trying to pull Alec out of his seemingly lost train of thought.

Alec’s eyes fell to Magnus’ hand near his wrist, one eyebrow raised. With an expression of distaste, he brushed it away, then turned and walked in the opposite direction, leaving Magnus standing there in shock. Time seemed to slow down, Magnus’ brain foggy and his vision sharp.

What happened down there? His thoughts dove immediately into a panicked spiral. “Alexander?” he asked questioningly, his voice hesitant and small as the distress from before reared its ugly head with renewed vigor. He followed close behind his boyfriend, determined to find answers. “Alexander are you okay? What happened? What did she say to you?”

Alec stopped, spinning on his heel, so that Magnus almost bumped into his chest. The shadowhunter’s pale blue eyes regarded him with an awful mixture of apathy and disdain that Magnus had never seen in them before. His stomach twisted, and he felt his world crumbling around him. Lightheadedness swept over him. Everything spun. A distant ringing droned in his ears.

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” Alec answered, tilting his head. His voice had a deeper, smoother tone to it than usual—detached, calculating. He sounded like a completely different person than the one from the elevator ride down—completely unlike the man that Magnus knew. Buried underneath his gruff shadowhunter exterior, Alec was always gentle, thoughtful, loving, and a bit shy. Magnus saw none of that now. He sounded…

Something is wrong. The thought steadied Magnus, but also sent another shock of alarm shooting through his veins. The adrenaline kicked in almost instantly, leaving the warlock’s hands trembling.

“Leave me be, Magnus Bane,” Alec dismissed boredly, seemingly uninterested in Magnus’ suffering. The affectation in the demand nagged at Magnus. Alec did not speak like that. “Your own parents, Magnus?” Alec asked vengefully. “You’re a murderer. Your mother killed herself to get away from you. What ever made you think I would want to stick around once I found out what a monster you really are?” He snorted at that, as if the whole statement had been one big joke, then he turned away and continued to wherever he had been heading, leaving Magnus stricken in his wake.

Breaking out of his frozen shock, Magnus almost ran back over to Isabelle, whose brows were knitted together, already on her feet. “What was that about?” she asked as he approached. “It looked like he was upset. What did he say?”

Magnus could not disguise the unsteadiness in his tone. Izzy’s face looked strange, like he could see it more clearly for the first time ever. She had a tiny, almost invisible freckle on her neck that he had never noticed before. “Isabelle, I think your brother is possessed,” Magnus explained, getting straight to the point. His voice sounded distant to his own ears, as if coming from someone else. He glanced behind him again, but Alec was gone, already off to whatever task had been so important to the demon within him.

It’s not really him, Magnus repeated to himself, over and over. Alec would never say that to me. A lump rose in his throat, adrenaline spiking. He could hear his pulse in his ears.

“Magnus, I was just joking earlier when I—” Izzy cut off when she realized he was serious. “Magnus, sit down,” she commanded abruptly.

“No,” he gasped. “We have to go after him, we have to—”

“Sit down,” Izzy repeated, pushing him into a chair. Dizziness stole any ability to resist, the room spinning as he sank down into a seated position. He rested his forehead in his palms, trying to command the spinning to cease. What was wrong with him? He never panicked like this. “I’m going to find him,” she continued. “Stay here, and take deep, slow breaths. Okay? Magnus?” Magnus nodded. Izzy squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she soothed. “I’m going to get him.” And then she was gone, leaving Magnus alone to steady himself as the entire world seemed to tilt back and forth around him.

~

After assessing Alec’s state and determining that he was physically okay, Clary stood back up, her eyes following the messy, smudged trail through the nearby open door.

“It’s not mine,” Alec muttered to himself, still only partially coherent. He stared confusedly at his fingers. “It’s not my blood.” Everything felt cold, the terror of a realization that he could not quite reach gripping his heart. Clary’s footsteps faded, disappearing toward the bedroom in a dreamy haze, blurring together with all of the background noise of Alec’s mind.

It took Alec a few seconds to register the hefty thump of Clary’s weight sinking to the floor against the door frame, to distinguish her stuttered, panicked breathing from among the overwhelming deluge of sensory input. He shook as much of the cloudiness as he could away. Concentrating all of his willpower, he staggered to his feet and stumbled forward to where Clary sat, pale and trembling,  staring wide-eyed at something on the floor. Alec followed her gaze to the lifeless, blood-soaked body, heart ripped violently from her chest: Jocelyn Fairchild.

“No,” Alec whispered, the words choked and raspy from his parched throat. He fell forward, quivering hands reaching for his stele, rushing to draw an iratze that he already knew, deep down, was no use. Jocelyn Fairchild was dead. “No,” Alec repeated, barely audible. “What have I done? What have I done?”

Some semblance of clarity gradually returned to him, his memories of the interrogation and of Melusine rippling through his consciousness like a vaguely remembered dream.

To love is to destroy.

“Valentine,” he choked out. He reached out to grab Clary’s arm, then hesitated, having the presence of mind not to smear her own mother’s blood across her clothes. What have I done? The mantra echoed across his mind once more. “Clary,” he barked harshly, startling the girl out of her trembling reverie. “Clary get up, we have to warn the others.” Guilt rose in his throat like nausea as she stared helplessly up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. He could see the cloudy distance there, the shock protecting Clary’s heart from the harsh reality before her. “Clary, get up !”

Clary snapped out of it, leaping to her feet, and darted over to the dresser, retrieving something from the back of a drawer. Alec stumbled backwards against the wall, exhaustion buckling his legs. He pushed himself back up as Clary reappeared by his side, a seraph blade in her hand. Of course Jocelyn kept a secret weapon in her room.

“We need to find Izzy,” Alec instructed. He wiped his hands off as best he could on his black jeans, the stain disappearing into the dark fabric. He staggered back out into the hallway, fishing his phone shakily from his pocket. He punched an 8-digit code into the lock screen, and all around them, the Institute transformed. Lights switched on and off, riderecting power to only necessary functions. Doors locked. An alarm sounded, echoing deafeningly across the building. As if summoned by the mention of her name, Izzy rounded the corner.

“Izzy!” Clary cried, the first words she had managed since seeing her mother’s body. The redhead lurched forward, dashing toward her friend. Alec grabbed her by the sleeve of her shirt, yanking her back harshly, and Clary gasped, caught off guard by the violence of the gesture.

“It’s not her,” Alec warned, patting her shoulder as if to brush away his unintended roughness. Recognition flared in the dark, hazy corners of his thoughts—a chilling familiarity. The coldness of Izzy’s eyes, hiding something hopeless and eerie and lost.

“Good guess,” his sister’s face grinned, twirling her seraph blade. Alec had no weapon with which to fight back, and the armory was too far away. Clary recklessly launched herself forward.

“It’s still Izzy,” Alec cautioned. “Be careful where you strike.” He could only hope that Clary heard him. She remained focused single-mindedly on her target. Alec did not blame her. His eyes wandered back toward the awful, stomach-churning scene inside the bedroom. I did that. Unbidden, a memory writhed its way free. His own fist, warm and wet, curled inside the cavity of Jocelyn’s chest. Her resigned, grief-stricken expression as her own mortality dawned on her, all in the span of a single second. Why could he remember it? The scene resolved itself more and more clearly, and Alec began to wonder if he had committed the act himself, if he had even been possessed at all.

The clash of blades tugged his attention upward, to the two women locked in combat. His reflexes kicked in, emotions swept to the side, as he saw an opening. He lunged in from behind his sister, unbreakable grip locking around her wrists. Clary’s blade met flesh, slicing Izzy’s shoulder, and a black cloud exploded out from the wound, screeching and hissing as it beelined toward Clary.

Clary stumbled backwards, landing hard on the floor as the cloud enveloped her. Alec pried the blade from Izzy’s slackening grasp, slicing at the disembodied demon, to no effect. It curled into Clary’s mouth and nose, but then, in a burning flash of light, it cringed backwards. A ripple of energy blasted out from Clary’s body, carrying with it the unsettling scent of burned flesh, though Clary appeared to be unscathed. The blackened cloud turned in on itself, as if hesitating, before diving in Alec’s direction. Alec skittered backwards, searching his pockets for his stele. Then the shadow was upon him, a familiar anguish petrifying his entire body.

Give up, it seemed to say. You’ve already let me in once. You’re already mine. You want this. You need it.

“No,” Alec murmured, but no sound came out.

I freed you, the voice growled. I only enabled you to do what you already craved to do.

Alec fell to his knees, blinded by the murk that surrounded him. Memories surged across the forefront of his mind, as if ripped free from a dark, hidden place where they had been locked away. His distaste for Jocelyn’s treatment of her own children. A passing, intrusive speculation that perhaps both Clary and Jace would be better off if she had never returned from Valentine’s clutches. Then he saw Melusine, as he had first seen her—a child, frail, confused, and afraid. He remembered his resolve to kill her. His determination to murder a young, defenseless girl. Guilt choked him.

It was you.

The shadow seemed to shrink before him, disappearing. Alec could not breathe. He remembered this feeling now, the sensation of absorbing some foreign, unwelcome presence into his body.

“No!” At first, Alec thought the voice had been his own. An azure blast of magic slammed into him, knocking him onto his back. The entity screeched again. Magnus stood at the end of the hallway, advancing with murderous rage behind his eyes. Anyone else might have been terrified by the warlock’s fearsome presence, cerulean energy crackling over him like uncontained electricity. Alec felt only relief, a single, barely coherent word drifting across his thoughts. Safe.

The magic pouring between Magnus’ fingers like dripping, liquid fire flared to an angry, vibrant crimson. Molten strands of it coiled over the demon’s ethereal form, slamming it to the floor and pinning it there, where it writhed and shrieked.

“Clary!” Magnus exclaimed. A flash of glowing adamas swirled through the air in response to Magnus’ call, the redheaded shadowhunter jamming her blade into the ghostly, shapeless form. This time, with the help of Magnus’ magic, the hit landed. The demon collapsed in on itself, folding and twitching, until nothing remained but the scattered scarlet droplets on the floor, echoes of where injuries had been sustained.

“Magnus,” Alec sighed, exhaustion coursing through him. Your own mother killed herself to get away from you. The memory slammed into Alec like a punch to the gut. The way Magnus’ entire countenance had shattered, eyes wide, hands trembling. The nausea returned. Alec pushed himself over onto all fours, retching. His ribs ached and burned. He did not remember being hit, but the cool trickle of blood down his side told a different story.

“Alexander.” Strong hands steadied Alec. Magnus pulled his head into his lap as his arms gave out. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Alec pushed himself up, facing the warlock’s frightened, questioning eyes. “Magnus, I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I don’t know why I said those things. I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you,” Magnus soothed. Over Magnus’ shoulder, Alec spotted Clary, staring blankly down to the empty spot where the demon had crumbled into nothingness.

“Jocelyn,” Alec whispered. “I killed Jocelyn.” His eyes returned to Magnus’. A strange sense of calm settled over him as he repeated the sentiment. “Magnus, I murdered her.”

~

Alec did not remember moving, or cleaning up, or changing his clothes. But he found himself sitting in the infirmary, his sweatpants-clad legs hanging over the side of the bed, sock-covered feet planted firmly on the floor. He stared down at the tile, mind churning, though he seemed to have no clear thoughts. Magnus was gone—Alec assumed he was off helping with the cleanup, reinforcing the wards. Unlike Alec, Magnus always kept his cool under pressure. Alec admired it.

At some point Jace’s arms wrapped around him, a surprisingly reassuring sensation. He smelled like blood and sweat. His lip was split, and his eye black. Alec wondered if Jace had also fought the demon at some point, but then remembered he had not been in the Institute at the time—he was at the City of Bones, answering questions about his time with Valentine. Alec did not have the energy or willpower to ask about it.

“I step out for a few hours and the whole Institute collapses,” his parabatai murmured. The ill-timed joke fell on deaf ears. Alec’s right hand ached. It was covered in scrapes and bruises where it had been forced past Jocelyn’s ribs.

Alec did not know how much time passed. Finally, Clary’s murmured voice broke through the deafening wall of static in his brain. He looked up, his eyes finding Clary leaning numbly into Jace’s arms on the other side of the room. Alec could still feel the strange, awful things that the demon had shook loose in him, whispers of something dark, coaxed from some unspoken, buried place in his heart. He couldn’t be here.

He stood, his feet surprisingly steady as they carried him away from Clary, away from his guilt, and toward somewhere where he could be alone.

Chapter Text

Alec inhaled deeply, the cool Autumn air chilling his lungs. His breath coiled in front of him in the darkness, and all around him, New York City glittered—bright and alive, even in the middle of the night. High up on the Institute roof, far from the bustling sidewalks below, a safe degree of distance separated him from everything else alive.

It was a strange case of deja vu, hiding in this obscure corner, away from the garden and the greenhouse, warm vapor heating his throat with every hit of the pen Magnus had gifted him. He had not been up here in years, since the night Jace caught him puffing awkwardly at a haphazardly rolled joint that crumbled between his fingers. He was seventeen, and Jace only fifteen. But his parabatai had plucked the drugs from his hand, deftly re-rolled the paper, and shared the rest of it with him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Though Alec had appreciated the sentiment, he had never returned to the spot again—he went there to be alone, and no longer felt that sense of safety after Jace’s intrusion.

Thinking of his parabatai triggered a profound sense of loss deep in Alec’s chest, no doubt exacerbated by the heady effects of the cannabis creeping into his consciousness. Ever since Clary’s arrival, something had changed between them. But it wasn’t just Clary—it was Magnus, too. Both Jace and Alec had other people to rely on now, other people to prioritize. They had grown apart—found their own paths, their own loved ones, and their own lives. It had all happened so fast. Alec knew it was a good thing—it was the natural course of life, for siblings to move away, to pursue their own individual callings. It did not make it hurt any less.

Alec reached behind him, sliding an arrow from the quiver on his back and nocking it. He aimed carefully between two nearby skyscrapers, mentally calculating the distance to the building behind them, and judging that he had plenty of space. He breathed deeply again. The air felt like ice water in his throat, and tasted of bus fumes and plant life. He released. The arrow flew true, sliding across the night sky, between the skyscrapers, and exploding behind them well before it reached the next, far-off building. Alec took another hit from the vape before nocking another arrow, aiming higher, toward an empty patch of sky far above his head.

Brooding about his relationship with Jace only distracted him for so long, his thoughts eventually returning to the topic he had been trying to avoid: Clary. Clary, his parabatai’s sister. Clary, whose mother he had just murdered. Chaining those thoughts together, Alec realized that he had technically also murdered Jace’s mother. He wondered what special place in hell was reserved for the souls of Shadowhunters who murdered the families of their parabatai. He nocked another arrow. Breathe. Release. Repeat.

The memories were clear now. He recalled everything, as if he had performed the acts of his own free will. He remembered the cold, bright lights of Melusine’s cell. She demanded for him to release her, but he did not. He left her there. Not Alec—the demon. It seemed that Valentine had not made such a loyal father figure after all. He remembered her screams, trailing after him as the cell door slammed, commanding him to turn around. But he was not hers to command.

He remembered Magnus, so hopeful and fragile and loving. And then the most awful part—how he dug deep into the most dismal recesses of a pool of memories that had not even belonged to him, searching for the most painful moments to weaponize. When he looked into Magnus’ eyes, he had seen the warlock’s parents. His mother, lifeless. An asymmetrical blade that curved back and forth like a winding river. His stepfather, burning alive. And then a demon, with eyes just like Magnus’, hands outstretched and welcoming. Magnus’ father, Alec knew, thought he could not identify him. The stolen memories were burned into his mind. He did not want them. He had no right to them.

Another arrow exploded in the distance, and Alec’s eyes followed the flickering embers as they fluttered downward, his Vision rune enhancing the strange, floating aimlessness of his high. He was apart from everything, recounting his own memories with frighteningly calm detachment. Every movement was oddly deliberate, like his body had forgotten its own muscle memory.

He remembered the sick satisfaction of breaking Magnus’ heart, leaving the powerful warlock trembling in his wake. He remembered finding his way straight to Jocelyn’s room, how she greeted him with such trust—the Head of the New York Institute, dropping by for a quick talk about some paperwork. She wanted to take her daughter to Idris. She had submitted a formal request for the transfer, but she was not authorized to—Clary was an adult, and had to do it herself if she wished to follow her mother to the City of Glass.

A few of Jocelyn’s ribs snapped when he plunged his hand into her chest. Jocelyn had been confused, more than afraid. And then she had died. Alec felt her heart stop beating in the palm of his hand, as he tore it from inside of her.

He lowered his bow, rubbing his fingers together, remembering the viscid texture that coated his hands mere hours before. His fingers were moist now, too, dark rivulets of blood dribbling between his knuckles from where the bowstring tore at his fingers after hours of use. He ignored the pain. How appropriate, after destroying so many hearts in so many ways, that Alec would feel such a thoroughly excruciating absence in his own chest. His breath came in short gasps. Hot tears threatened, burning the backs of his eyes, but he blinked them away.

He took another long drag from the vape pen, closing his eyes and focusing on the drifting detachment of the high, desperately trying to return to the floating state of spacey calmness from before. Every individual sound around him swarmed into his ears. Cars honking, engines rumbling, the rustle of dried leaves brushing against each other in the nearby garden. Somewhere in the distance, the chaotic din of nighttime construction ricocheted between the skyscrapers. Eyes still closed, he nocked another arrow. Release. Repeat. He could hear them crackling across the sky, finding their way to the same distant destinations as all the arrows before. Alec’s enhanced sense of sight was beneficial, but ultimately unnecessary.

“Alec?” His parabatai’s voice sliced through Alec’s delicately balanced tranquility. Alec spun to address the intrusion, opening his eyes. Jace’s wounds from earlier were fully healed. Alec’s hand stung, reminding him of his own untreated injuries.

I shouldn’t have come up here , Alec thought bitterly. I knew Jace would find me . A tiny, subdued part of him wondered if that was his intention in the first place. “Move,” Alec commanded, keeping his bow held taut.

Jace’s expression flooded with concern, his tone gentle as he examined Alec’s trembling grip on the bow. “How long have you been up here?” Something else must have caught his attention—either the pen in Alec’s breast pocket, or just some lingering scent in the air—because he continued with some surprise. “Are you high?”

Alec ignored his questions. “I’m glamoured,” he retorted. “No one can see me. Move.”

Jace shook his head. “You can’t beat yourself up.” He sounded so kind, so sympathetic. Alec hated it.

“I’m not,” he said sharply. His hands shook. Alec hated his body for betraying him.

“Who are you talking to?” Jace countered. “It’s me , Alec. I’m your parabatai. I know exactly what you’re going through.” Alec became very aware of the deadly sharpness of the arrow tip aimed at Jace—directly at his heart. “What happened with Jocelyn,” Jace continued, “that wasn’t you. That was the demon.” Alec felt the tears threatening again, the entire bow trembling visibly in his hands as he wondered what would happen if he released his grip, right there, right then. Would Jace dodge it? Jace’s eyes darted down to the quivering arrowtip, and for just a moment, Alec thought he spotted a hint of fear flash across his eyes.

“Get out of the way!” Alec snapped, realizing that his grip on the bow was slipping. His vision blurred, the aching in his chest thrumming with the quickening of his pulse. A wave of panicked adrenaline bolstered his strength, and the bow steadied in his hands.

“Hey,” Jace raised his arms in mock surrender, a sympathetic smile brightening his countenance. “Same side, remember?” There was no fear there now, and Alec wondered if he had imagined it. He glowered in Jace’s direction, willing him to leave, to let Alec process his feelings in peace. When his parabatai did not move, Alec lowered the bow with a huff, glaring off into the sky as he blinked back tears and composed himself.

“Come on, man,” Jace begged, taking Alec’s disarmament as a sign of progress. “Come back inside.”

“That’s the last place I want to be,” Alec responded. He returned his bow to its place on his back, staring down at the trembling in his hands. He couldn’t be here. He turned away from Jace and strode to the edge of the roof, gazing down at the scattered mundanes, milling about below like so many ants. His world was so apart from theirs, yet his mission was to protect them. The ground below seemed to sway in time with his pulse.

“Alec,” Jace appealed, more aggressive this time. “Valentine has the Soul Sword. He slaughtered the Silent Brothers. We need our best soldiers—”

“Stop pretending this never happened!” Alec shouted, cutting him off. He could not remember the last time he had yelled anything outside of combat. His heart raced. He vaguely remembered the hazy moments in the infirmary, Jace checking in on him, telling him what had happened.

Valentine had attacked the City of Bones while Jace was being questioned—questioned by the Silent Brothers, at the mercy of the Soul Sword, because of a mission that Alec had approved. Alec hadn’t been there, too preoccupied with his own investigation with Magnus. Too preoccupied with his personal feelings, his obsession with some idealized romance that he never should have let himself chase after in the first place. He felt stupid. He felt like a failure. Emotions cloud judgement.

“I couldn’t save you from Valentine,” Alec said, his voice wavering. He felt the words building up on his tongue, a surge of floodwater on the verge of breaking the dam. His restraint crumbled, the aimless spiral of thoughts tumbling from his lips. “I couldn’t save you from the City of Bones, even when I was the one who let you walk through that portal with Valentine in the first place. I—” he cut off, unsure where this trail of fractured sentiments was leading him. “She’s Clary’s mother,” Alec choked out. “She’s your mother.” He turned away, unable to look his parabatai in the eye. Even Jace seemed taken aback by that, as if he had not quite realized that fact yet himself.

Finally, Jace spoke up again, his voice quieter, more hesitant. “Nobody blames you,” he whispered. Alec felt the distance between them growing, a vast canyon of emptiness. Jace’s presence suffocated him, reminding him of every mistake he had made in the past few months, all building on top of each other, stacking higher and higher, until they toppled into this moment. He could not breathe. He could not stay there. He drew a Surefooted rune across the back of his left hand, and he stepped off the side of the building. He landed running, refusing to look back and see his parabatai staring after him.

~

Even the ever-bustling streets of New York seemed quieter by the time Alec reached Magnus Bane’s apartment. He found himself on the balcony, catching his breath as he wondered, over and over, why he had come. The run had been long, and he was mostly sober now. His heart rate evened out quickly, the hum of his pulse in his ears fading away. He was alone with his thoughts.

Alec had assumed the warlock would be asleep at this hour, the digital clock on his lock screen displaying that it was almost 3:00 AM. A small, cowardly voice in the back of his mind had planned to take one look at the darkened windows and leave, but warm light spilled through the glass and scattered into the night sky, indicating that Magnus was up and about.

Why am I here? Alec stared down at the contusions across his hand, flexing his fingers. The throbbing pain cleared his thoughts. He remembered the last thing he had repeated to himself, jumping off of the Institute roof, away from Jace. Emotions cloud judgement.

In that moment on the rooftop, a part of him knew the answer. Now, on Magnus’ balcony, with some perspective, it was even more obvious. He knew why he had come. He had a duty—to the Clave, to his family. What had he been thinking these past few weeks? How was he ever going to clean up this mess? His family’s reputation was likely already irreparably ruined. His throat tightened. I have to fix this. Step one happens right now. Magnus will understand. He’ll be okay.

The doorway darkened. Magnus stepped outside, blinking into the shadows. His slitted pupils expanded as they adjusted to the lack of light, expression softening when he discerned Alec’s shape, eyes examining his posture, his face, his injuries. His surprise melted away into tender concern.

“You okay?” Magnus asked quietly, though it was clear he already knew the answer. Alec could not tear his gaze away from the warlock. His thoughts raced. He had come here to… to… 

Magnus did not press him. Only waited, tired eyes searching his.

I came here to break up with you, Alec willed himself to say. To end this, then go back home to the Institute and pick up the shattered pieces of my family’s reputation. But he could not.

Everything was falling apart. He needed some semblance of control. Anything. He needed to fix it all, to go back to the way things were before he ruined it with his selfishness.

Home to the Institute, he repeated to himself. But the Institute did not feel like home. Why am I doing this? Why is this the solution I jump to? Alec felt like he was crumbling. The Institute was not home. It had not felt like home for a long time.

“I can’t be in that Institute,” Alec whispered. I need to be with you.

“Oh, Alec,” Magnus sighed. He did not offer words of comfort, or try to convince him to come inside. Alec appreciated that.

As recently as a month ago, Alec would have gone through with it. He would have shattered Magnus’ heart, walked away, then returned home to the safety of rules, and laws, and blind trust in the Clave. But everything had changed. The Institute was no longer home to him, because Magnus was . And Alec had no idea what to do about that. He was not the same person he used to be. He loved Magnus too much to ever let him go. He flexed his injured hand again, trying to distract himself from the aching in his chest, from the silence he hid behind.

“Too busy to use a healing rune?” Magnus asked softly, nodding toward Alec’s hand.

Alec looked down at it—cut and bruised and flecked with dried blood that he had tried to scrape off. “I’m fine,” he murmured, because that was what he was supposed to say. How could he tell the truth? How could he saddle Magnus with the weight of the confusion and self-loathing that boiled just under the surface of those words?

“No, you’re not,” Magnus corrected firmly. His eyes shimmered, as if he might be about to cry. Alec wondered why. “You’re hurting,” Magnus said, “badly. And you hope the pain here—” He took Alec’s hand in his, wrapping his fingers warmly around the injured fist. “—will overpower the pain there.” His other hand rested gently on Alec’s chest. “I wish it were that simple.”

The soothing caress of healing magic enveloped Alec’s hand, clasped within Magnus’. Something akin to anger flared up inside of Alec, and it came through in the forcefulness of his words. “I let a demon in, Magnus,” he protested. His voice wavered. But he did not resist the glowing, azure tendrils that looped over his fingers.

“That wasn’t your fault.” Magnus leaned forward, their foreheads resting together.

Alec remembered Jace saying the same thing. Frustration bubbled in his stomach. “I don’t know what to say to Clary. I can’t face her. I—”

“But you will,” Magnus cut him off. “Because that’s what you do, Alexander. It may take you a minute, but I’ve seen it up close. You’ll blow up the very ground you stand on to make something right.” He released Alec’s hand and leaned back. Alec flexed it again, but the aching was gone.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. The chaos of a thousand unspoken words swirled around his mind. He stared off into an empty patch of sky, tempering the urge to fill it with the whistle of aimless arrows. “I’m so sorry, Magnus. I wish I could take back what the demon stole from you. Those memories—they were private. I had no right to them.”

Magnus nodded, gathering his thoughts. Alec thought he saw his lip tremble, just for a moment. “It’s not the way I would have chosen for you to have learned that about me. I’ve done awful things in my life, Alexander. You would be well within reason to… to flee.”

Alec shook his head. “You were a child,” he murmured.

“And you,” Magnus pointed out, “were possessed.”

“But I remember it like it was me.” Alec’s voice cracked. “Every second of it, replaying, over and over. I remember making the decision to leave you standing there, to seek out Jocelyn, to…” Alec flexed his hand, even though it no longer hurt to do so. “I remember what her heartbeat felt like against my fingertips.” Alec sank down against the railing of the balcony, sitting on the cold stone. He stared blankly at the sleeve of his jacket as if it were very interesting. “Before Clary showed up, I’d only killed a handful of demons, did you know that? Lesser ones—a few Shax, a shapeshifter. I’ve always been so busy playing bodyguard to Jace and Izzy. I saw it as their mission to kill, and mine to protect. Now, I’ve killed three people. Not demons, Magnus. People. ”

“You’ve always come across as so battle-hardened,” Magnus remarked quietly, taken aback.

Alec shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. He suddenly became conscious that he had just shown up here, unloading his feelings onto Magnus. He felt like a burden. Selfish. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have bothered you. You’ve already got so much on your plate. It’s three in the morning. I should go.”

Magnus gripped his wrist, stopping him before he could move to get up. The warlock gingerly dropped to his knees, eyes level with Alec’s. From his pocket, he produced a familiar item: Alec’s witchlight—but something was off about it. It glowed in his grasp—not white, but a deep, crimson red and amber, bathing Magnus’ fingertips in flame-hued light. Alec drew in a sharp breath. “It shouldn’t illuminate like that,” he said falteringly, “for anyone but a Shadowhunter.” He had never seen a witchlight glow that color before—or any color,  other than white. It was beautiful.

Magnus smiled, but it was sad, and far away. “Do you remember when you gave this to me?” Alec nodded, and said nothing, absorbed in the sight of Magnus kneeling on the ground in front of him, solemn and sincere, the witchlight glowing fiery in his hand like spectral embers. Magnus looked beautiful, powerful—like the statues of the ancient, vengeful angels that lined the halls of the Gard. Alec could not breathe, enamoured with his eerie, otherworldly allure. “I carry it with me every day. Alexander, you are my light. And I will always, always have time for you.”

Alec realized that the tears he had been fighting back all night had finally begun to spill over, streaming down his face in silence. He did not know when he started crying, but his cheeks were wet and chilly.

“Magnus,” he whispered hoarsely. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” Magnus answered, his breath spilling visibly from his lips in the frigid air. His hand found its way to the side of Alec’s face, warm thumb wiping away cold tears. “Let’s go inside. You’re freezing.”

Alec nodded, and followed Magnus mutely into the apartment. As lost as he felt, at least for tonight, he could sleep at home.

Chapter Text

Magnus woke up to the first rays of early morning sunlight streaming in through his blinds. His golden sheets shimmered, light scattering as the body next to his shifted with a cozy sigh. He snuggled up close as Alec turned to lay on his back, and wrapped his arms around Alec’s torso, brushing his fingertips over the sleepy warmth of his skin.

“Sorry,” Alec’s gravelly morning voice grumbled, still half asleep. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Magnus murmured, barely a whisper. He scooted up, burying his face in the space between Alec’s chin and chest, where he fit perfectly. “I’m still asleep. So are you.”

“Okay,” the shadowhunter mumbled. Lean, muscular arms fell around Magnus’ shoulders, squeezing him into a tight embrace. Alec’s face nosed through his hair, nuzzling the top of his head. If Magnus could lay like this forever, he would. He breathed in, deeply inhaling the comforting familiarity of his boyfriend’s scent: leather, something like bergamot, and now, Magnus noted with satisfaction, the barest hint of sandalwood. His heart sang. He buried his face deeper into Alec’s shoulder, cheek rubbing against skin.

His entire body bounced slightly as Alec’s chest shook with a quiet chuckle. “Are you a cat?” Alec whispered into Magnus’ hair.

Magnus blushed, realizing how carried away he’d gotten with the cuddling. It wasn’t his fault. Alec smelled so good . Magnus had a strange, almost irresistible urge to rub the side of his face all over him. He briefly wondered whether that was a demon thing he had inherited along with his cat eyes, or if he was just a freak. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologize,” Alec murmured, the sleepy hoarseness beginning to clear from his voice. “I like it. It makes me happy.”

Magnus grinned into crook of Alec’s neck, nuzzling into his shoulder once more. The shadowhunter sighed contentedly and encircled him more tightly in his arms, planting a soft kiss on Magnus’ temple. Somehow, Magnus ended up with Alec’s legs wrapped around him, too.

He’s really my boyfriend, Magnus thought. It seemed like a dumb thought, but it kept occurring to him, as if he were just realizing it for the first time. Perhaps it was because this was the first time they had ever had a sleepover that didn’t involve sex. They just held each other, and went to sleep. The kind of thing that people in relationships did, just because they liked to spend time around each other. Magnus felt that way about Alec. He enjoyed just being in his presence, even if they weren’t doing anything. I love him.

He squeezed Alec so tightly that it hurt his arms a little bit. He wanted to say it then, right there. It was the perfect moment. But then, he remembered why Alec had come over in the first place.

It’s not the right time, he decided. He’s had a rough few days. Don’t put that kind of pressure on him. So, instead, he asked, “How are you feeling?” His words came out breathy and quiet.

Magnus felt the shadowhunter turn his head to stare up at the ceiling. Alec’s thumb brushed back and forth on Magnus’ bare shoulder as he considered the question. “I feel a lot less like my entire world is falling apart,” he finally answered, “and a lot more like I can do something to fix it. I still feel awful about what happened, but I’m not trapped by it the way I was last night. I feel… motivated to make things better.”

Magnus squeezed him tightly. He nuzzled into his chest, basking in his boyfriend’s delicious, perfect scent. “What can I do to help?” His voice was muffled, his face pressed into Alec’s body. His lips brushed ever so slightly across Alec’s skin when he spoke.

“Exactly what you’ve been doing,” Alec sighed. “Thank you for being here for me. I know it was a lot to ask of you.”

“It was the bare minimum to ask of me, Alexander. I’m glad you came over.” Magnus hesitated before continuing. “You know, I smelled the weed on you when you arrived last night. Promise me that next time, you’ll come to me before turning to that? I got you that gift as something fun to enjoy on occasion, not something to hide behind to drown your emotions. And… and I’d rather you rely on me, before turning to other, more unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Alec scooted back, turning on his side so their faces were level on the bed. He stared at Magnus, his gaze intense and pensive. They sat there in silence. Magnus thought Alec might not respond at all, until finally he spoke up. “Did you throw away that whiskey?” Alec asked.

Magnus blushed, realizing just how hypocritical he sounded. He had not, in fact, thrown away the Fey whiskey. He had forgotten. “Let’s make a deal,” he suggested. “Firstly, I’m going to find that bottle and toss it in the garbage the moment we get out of bed. And secondly, we will both promise to turn to each other first in our times of need, before anything else.”

Alec’s expression softened. He nodded. “But,” he added, his tone hopeful, “can we not get out of bed quite yet?”

“I’m not ready yet, either,” Magnus agreed. He scooted back in toward Alec, turning to face away from him so their bodies molded together like spoons. He felt warm, and cozy, and safe. Alec’s arms fell around him, hugging him close. He had just begun to drift off again, despite the sunlight streaming through the windows, when the growl of his own stomach startled him back awake. Behind him, the shake of Alec’s chest indicated the shadowhunter’s quiet chuckle.

“Maybe we should have breakfast,” Alec suggested. The vibrations from his words tickled the back of Magnus’ head. Magnus grabbed the arms around him and gripped them, not ready for the moment to end. Alec followed along, squeezing the warlock so tightly that he thought he felt his back crack a bit.

“Okay,” Magnus sighed, letting go. “Now I’m ready.” He spun around and nuzzled into Alec’s neck one last time, kissing the soft spot above his collar bone. Then he tossed the covers off of them both and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

~

Jace had not been to Magnus Bane’s apartment since he brought Lucian Greymark there, several months before. Raising his hand to knock at the imposing black door, he hesitated.

This is stupid. Alec wouldn’t be here. He checked his phone again, just to be sure Alec hadn’t responded to his texts. Nothing. Then, to be absolutely sure he didn’t completely embarrass himself, he closed his eyes and activated his tracking rune, ever so gently feeling out the bond.

To his unending surprise, he felt Alec immediately—somewhere right near him. Clary had been right. The thought of his sister sent Jace’s heart into his throat. She had been coping with Jocelyn’s death in a very shadowhunter-like manner, bottling it up, not talking about it, diving into work. She hadn’t even cried. It actually reminded Jace a bit of Alec. Jace was worried about her—Alec was not a great role model when it came to coping with unwanted emotions. Not that any of them were. But for now, at least, she was hanging in there. At the moment, his missing parabatai took more immediate priority.

Maybe he’s hiring him for something , he told himself. If Alec were really dating someone, I’d know. He would have told me.

Jace did not want to imagine what sort of magic someone might seek out from a powerful warlock after experiencing the kind of trauma that Alec did. Now determined not only to find Alec, but also some answers, he knocked on the door.

No answer came. After a few seconds, he thought he heard voices on the other side. One of them was definitely Alec’s. He knocked again. He could almost make out the words being said. Curiosity getting the better of him, he activated his Hearing rune.

“ —looks hot on you!”

“Actually… you’re right,” Alec’s incredulous voice responded. “I never thought your clothes would fit me this well.” Jace almost choked.

“I may have tailored it just a bit.” He now recognized Magnus Bane’s voice, smug and self-congratulatory. “Advantages to a warlock boyfriend, mon ange .” Clary had definitely been right, and it was baffling to hear. How did she know before Jace did?

“Hey, that one’s not so bad,” Alec remarked. He sounded pleased, relaxed, content. After their conversation last night, that was the last thing Jace expected.

“I liked pup better.”

“Magnus, stop trying to make pup happen. It’s not going to happen.” Alec’s voice was very close to the door now, and Jace leapt backwards as it opened, hastily deactivating the rune.

Alec stepped into view around the door, his eyes wide and cautious. He wore one of his own shirts, a dark blue, almost black henley that Jace had seen a million times. But over it, he had on a sharply tailored navy blue blazer. It made him look older, more mature, and complemented the brighter blue of his eyes. Jace blinked in surprise. He looked a lot less like scruffy old Alec, and a lot more like the Head of an Institute.

“Jace,” Alec greeted, stepping back to let him in. Concern darkened his expression. “I thought I felt you nearby. What are you doing here?”

“Alec,” Jace greeted back. Why did he suddenly feel anxious? This was unfamiliar territory, he realized. Alec seemed so comfortable here. He stepped into the apartment. From the entranceway, he could see through to the main room, where two mostly-empty dishes occupied the coffee table. One still held the remnants of pancakes. The table itself appeared to have been knocked out of place, and a few pieces of clothing were strewn over the sofa.

“Uh,” Jace hesitated, absorbing the scene. “I, uh,” his eyes darted back to Alec, then between Alec and the warlock. Magnus Bane seemed entirely amused by the situation, as if he knew something Jace didn’t. “You weren’t answering your phone, Alec. We were worried.”

He expected Alec to roll his eyes, to shoot back biting retort. Instead, his parabatai nodded. “I know,” Alec said apologetically, glancing to the side to meet Magnus’ gaze. “My phone died. I’m sorry. I should have checked in, let you know where I was.”

“Are you… okay?” Jace asked. He subtly searched for the injuries on Alec’s hand, but they were gone, fully healed. Alec looked… good. His parabatai let out a deep sigh, and Jace didn’t miss the second glance toward Magnus. The two seemed to be sharing a silent conversation that he wasn’t a part of.

“Yeah,” Alec sighed. “I’m sorry I ran off like that. I’d like to talk to Clary, if you think she’ll let me.”

Jace nodded, eyes still drifting between Magnus and Alec. He had a whole speech prepared, ready to try to convince Alec to come home. He had not expected him to be so willing, so already put together.

They had gone through these phases before, in the past. It was an unending cycle for them. Jace was the mess, Alec always bailing him out of trouble, always protecting him. But every once in awhile, Alec would snap, lose it for a bit, and Jace would have to go find him and talk him through it. It was their pattern—safe and comfortable. But now, Jace supposed, Clary had been bailing him out of more messes than Alec did. At least the smaller ones, and the emotional ones. The ones he only felt right talking to her about. And Alec, it seemed, had found someone new as well. His heart ached a bit. It hit him, just then, how much had changed between them in the last few months.

“I think that would be good,” Jace managed. “She doesn’t blame you. I hope you know that.”

Alec shrugged, and a bit of that familiar, self-blaming sadness returned to his expression. “It doesn’t make me any less responsible.” He hesitated as if to say something more, eyes meeting Jace’s, but he stopped himself.

Magnus intertwined their hands, “You go, Alexander,” the warlock said. “Talk to Clary. Do you want a portal?”

Jace was about to accept the offer, but Alec answered first. “No, thanks, Magnus. We could use the time to talk.” Alec placed a kiss on the warlock’s cheek. It was chaste and sweet, but something about it seemed so intimate that Jace dropped his eyes. He got the distinct feeling that Alec’s relationship with Magnus was not a new thing, as he had originally thought. “Do you need any help cleaning up before I go?” Alec asked, still focused entirely on the warlock. He reached up and brushed a stray hair out of Magnus’ face.

Magnus glanced behind him, as if only just realizing his home was a mess. Jace noted, now that he took a second to further examine the chaos, that some of the clothes were definitely Alec’s.

“No, thanks,” Magnus answered. “Advantages to having a warlock boyfriend, remember?” He snapped his fingers, and his home returned to the tidy, magazine-ready state that Jace was more familiar with.

“Thanks, again,” Alec murmured quietly.

Magnus responded with another kiss. “See you later.” It was so, so strange, seeing Alec act that way. Relaxed. Domestic. He was like a completely different person than the tense, repressed, angry Alec that Jace had grown used to. He couldn’t pinpoint just when that change had occurred. As recently as last night, he had not noticed it at all. But other times, before that, he realized, he had. The way Alec’s attention had not been entirely focused on missions, the times he had shown up late for training and debriefs, then brushed it off as if that was not completely out of the ordinary for him. Just how long had this been going on? Just how long had Jace been completely ignorant of it?

Jace followed Alec out of the apartment, for once at a loss for words. Alec waited until the elevator closed before he broke the silence between them. “How did you know where I’d be?” he asked. “Did Izzy tell you?” He didn’t seem concerned or upset, only curious.

“Izzy?” Jace repeated, surprised. “No, Clary suggested you would probably be here. I didn’t believe her, but I checked anyways because I didn’t have any better ideas.”

“Oh,” Alec nodded, as if that somehow made perfect sense to him. “I assume that was the vampire’s doing, then.”

“Simon?!” Jace exclaimed, his surprise finally starting to break through his composure. “Did everyone know about this but me?”

Alec shrugged. “Magnus posted it on Instagram, so I guess so.”

“Wow, okay,” Jace took a mental step back as they left the building, heading down the sidewalk toward the subway. The chilly air bit at his cheeks. He noticed that Alec didn’t bother to glamour, so he didn’t either. He felt naked and uncomfortable being this visible, unable to ignore the occasional straying eyes of mundanes glancing over him as they passed on the street. Alec didn’t seem to notice. “So,” he continued hesitantly, “how long has this been going on? Between you and Magnus.”

“Uh…” Alec had to think about that one. Or he didn’t want to tell him. Or both. “Maybe two months?” He glanced over toward Jace. “I don’t know, when do you start counting from?”

Jace grinned. “How about your first kiss? Wait, no, the first time you had sex. Because judging by the state of Magnus’ living room, there’s clearly been a lot of that happening.”

Alec blushed, eyes darting away from Jace’s to the ground in front of him. He suddenly seemed a lot more like his old self, still there buried underneath the nice clothes and newfound self-assurance. They both relaxed a bit, finding their old easy tone. “Both of those happened on the same night,” Alec admitted, staring at the sidewalk.

“Wait, what?!” Jace stopped him dead in his tracks, his eyebrows darting up toward his hairline. “You just like… jumped straight into bed with him?”

“We went on three dates first!” Alec protested.

“I’m not judging you, man. I’m proud of you. Look at you go, seducing the High Warlock of Brooklyn. What a power move.”

Alec sputtered. “I didn’t seduce him!” He walked forward again, and Jace followed, grinning ear to ear.

“I know, buddy. You couldn’t seduce a succubus if you tried. So, how did he seduce you ?”

“He did not,” Alec grumbled.

“Oh, come on. You have to tell me.”

“If you must know,” Alec huffed, “after our third date, I texted him and told him to come back. And he did. It was that simple.”

“So… you didn’t seduce the High Warlock of Brooklyn. You booty called him.”

Alec’s eyes went wide. “I did not booty call Magnus!”

“Alright, alright, sure.” Jace dragged the statement out dubiously, just enough to ruffle Alec’s feathers. “So how long ago was it?” he pressed.

Alec bit his lip. “Uh, remember that time you thought I was in Idris overnight? During the portal ban? You came barging into my room because I skipped training and missed a planning meeting.”

Now it was Jace’s eyes that went wide. “Dude, that was forever ago!” He shoved Alec so he almost stumbled off the sidewalk. “How could you not tell me that?! Do you think I wouldn’t have understood? I’ve skipped plenty of meetings to get some tail—sometimes literally. The warlock marks I’ve seen, man.”

“We’ve been a bit busy!” Alec brushed himself off, shooting Jace a grumpy glare. “Besides, I didn’t know if it was going to work out. And Magnus is not ‘some tail,’ whatever that means.”

Jace frowned at the first statement. It was such an easy excuse, and he realized it was probably a reasonable one. He hated that so many other priorities had come between him and Alec. “Alec. I’m your parabatai,” he said firmly. “I always have time for you.” He decided that from this point on, he would make sure that was true. Alec stopped in his tracks. He stared at Jace, blinking, as if he had said something completely strange. “What?” Jace asked, confused.

Alec shook his head. “Nothing.” They walked a few more minutes in silence, right past the subway entrance. Jace was just beginning to wonder if Alec was paying any attention at all to their route when he ducked into a small coffee shop. “Here,” he said. “My treat. Consider it an apology gift for running away last night.”

Jace raised an eyebrow. Fancy lattes had never really been Alec’s style, or Jace’s. He said nothing, instead accepting the gesture with cautious grace. Alec sensed his surprise anyways. “Magnus showed me this place,” he said defensively. “Just get a dark roast. It’s good.”

“Mhmm,” was all Jace answered. They waited in the line in silence, until finally Jace mustered up the courage to say what he had been wanting to say since they first started walking. “I’m sorry, Alec,” he said haltingly. “I haven’t been there for you. I didn’t realize until last night, just how absorbed I’ve been in my own problems.”

They had reached the front of the line, so Alec was saved from responding by the cheery checkout clerk. After they placed their orders, he turned back toward Jace, his eyes wandering the room, as if scoping it out for threats, the way he did whenever he was about to say something difficult. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, his gaze shifting from the door to the shop down to his hands. “I haven’t been fair to you. Especially since we became parabatai. I wasn’t… I didn’t… get it.”

Jace remembered the memory demon, and the awkward conversation afterwards. He had known exactly what Alec was talking about back then, and had played dumb to spare his feelings. He knew now, too. He considered that maybe playing dumb had been a mistake. Maybe just talking it out in the first place would have spared them both a whole lot of frustration. “You don’t need to apologize for who you are, Alec,” he murmured.

Alec’s eyes shot up toward him in surprise. “I’m not.” he clarified. “I realize that now… I just mean, I still wasn’t being fair to you. I didn’t understand how to draw that line, between loving someone like a brother, and loving them like I—” he cut off. “Well, romantically, I guess.”

Jace’s heart twisted in his chest. He understood that, more than he could explain. He thought of Clary. Clary, his sister. He remembered kissing her. How right it had felt. Now it was his stomach twisting, instead of his heart. What was wrong with him? He pulled Alec into a hug, half for his own sake. Alec tensed at the unexpected gesture. “I understand,” Jace whispered.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbled, realizing what he had said. He relaxed, hugging Jace back, as if he realized it was Jace who needed it more.

“So, do you think it’s going to work out, now?” Jace asked, deflecting back toward a less precarious topic as he released his parabatai. A frantic-looking barista called out their names. They had somehow managed to spell his name on the cup with a Y in the middle, and Alec’s said Ilex . Jace wondered if they did that on purpose, as some sort of gimmick. There was no way they could assume anyone’s name was really that absurd. Maybe they just weren’t paid enough to care.

“What’s going to work out?” Alec responded distractedly, examining his cup with the same amused confusion that Jace felt.

“You and Magnus. You said you didn’t know if it would work out. Past tense.”

Alec stared down at the floor. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Bullshit,” Jace shot back. A middle aged mundane woman dragging along two kids shot him a horrified glance. He rolled his eyes. “So have you told him?” he asked.

“Told him what?” Alec was on guard now, regarding Jace with wary suspicion.

“That you’re in love with him,” Jace stated matter-of-factly.

Alec glared at him. “Magnus and I have only been together for maybe two months. And you only found out about it today . Don’t you think that’s a big assumption to make? And a bit soon for me to even be thinking about… about that word? That would be crazy. I’m not that kind of person, Jace.”

“You forget that I’m your parabatai,” Jace taunted. They carried their coffees outside, heading back toward the subway. “I know all.”

“I have an endless mountain of evidence pointing to the contrary,” Alec griped. He refused to answer further questions about his relationship after that.

As they made their way back to the Institute, the mood shifted dramatically, both of them growing more and more somber the closer they got. It was easy to forget, away from the Institute, just how much had happened over the last few days. But as the towering structure loomed before them, all of it seemed suddenly much more immediate, fresh in their minds.

“Clary has been mostly sticking to her room,” Jace said quietly as they stepped into the echoey entranceway. “I can go with you, if you want.”

“No,” Alec said, “thank you.” He stopped by the elevator, anxiety clouding his features. "But first, there’s one other thing I need to do, if you wouldn’t mind coming along for that?”

“Sure, buddy.” Jace wondered what could possibly be so important that Alec would prioritize it over making things right with Clary. But as they approached the elevator, he knew. Alec pressed the button, and they began their descent, back down toward the cells. Finally, Jace would get to lay eyes on the infamous Melusine.

Chapter Text

Alec stepped off the elevator to an all too familiar scene. Had it really only been a single day? Melusine sat in her cell at the end of the hall, illuminated by sterile fluorescent lighting that washed out her already sallow skin. She was all near shades of white—white hair, white skin, pale grey uniform. A ghost.

She held herself differently now, no longer an active occupant of the cell but a prisoner of its confines. Every limb of her slight frame was devoid of energy. She no longer knelt, no longer held the tense, uncomfortable poses she maintained naturally before. Sitting in the back of the cell with her legs stretched out in front of her, she rested her head against the wall, her eyes closed. Everything about her looked tired.

“ That’s Melusine?” Jace asked. He had seen her on the security footage already, but seeing her in person left him unimpressed. Alec could not blame him. Something about her seemed to be… missing. This was not the terrifyingly collected warlock he remembered. She lacked her calculated control, the innate knowledge of what role to play to get under someone’s skin. The clothes she had been issued were too big, and she had rolled the pants up around her ankles. It made her look even more like a child.

“Yes,” Alec answered quietly. Jace picked up on his grim tone and resisted his natural urge to make further comments. Staring at the person responsible for almost every bad thing that had happened to him recently, with only a pane of glass between them, Alec wanted to hate her. He wanted to march into the room, stone-faced and stern, demanding answers. But hatred took effort, and he did not have it in him. Indifference was all he could muster.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Jace asked softly, watching Alec as he examined the girl.

“No,” Alec answered. He turned away from his musings, looking Jace in the eye. “I need you to stay out here,” he instructed. “And if anything happens in there, lock me in.”

Jace’s brow furrowed. After a moment of thought, he nodded slowly, his voice restrained. “I understand.”

That was why Alec had asked Jace to come. Not Izzy, and definitely not Magnus. Jace, above all, he could trust to do what was necessary. Jace could put aside his emotions if Melusine had another trick up her sleeve. Without saying another word, Alec walked around to the side of the cell and unlocked the door.

Entering the room was like stepping into another realm. Compared to the heavily-shadowed and dim hallway, the cell was blindingly bright. The door slammed shut behind him, the metallic click of the lock echoing across the small space like a gunshot. Alec noticed a sudden, distinct lack of sound after that, as if some previously unnoticed white noise had disappeared from the background of his awareness. He heard only the feather-light brush of his footsteps on the concrete floor, and the whisper of Melusine’s breath echoing his own.

Melusine opened her eyes as he entered. Warm brown irises stared up at him—had they been darker before? She was not curious, not pleased, not disappointed. Everything about her new demeanor seemed emotionally flat—not from carefully constructed control, but rather a deafening, hopeless emptiness. She watched him, waiting, as if it did not matter what he did or said. As if she had given up. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, twin shadows, purple and black like bruises. When Alec did not speak, she finally broke the silence herself.

“Have you come here to gloat, Shadowhunter?” she asked quietly. Her voice came out hoarse, like she had not spoken in a long time. It was delicate and childlike, full of small intonations that Alec had never noticed before. Thin, needle-like fangs protruded from where her canines should have been, poking into her bottom lip. It was the first time Alec had seen her warlock mark in person. Up close, they looked nothing like a vampire’s fangs—they were thinner, almost translucent in appearance. She retracted them hastily when she caught him staring. “Since Ari has not returned to me yet, I assume you sent him back to Edom.”

“Was that the name of the demon?” Alec asked roughly. He stood with his hands in his pockets and his back to the mirror. He towered over Melusine’s diminutive frame, still seated on the floor.

She nodded. “Agaliarept,” she clarified softly.

“Agaliarept seemed to have a very interesting ability, from what I remember,” he said. He spoke deliberately, carefully, trying to make sense of her new demeanor. “When I looked into a person’s eyes, I could see their worst memories.”

“Not their worst memories,” Melusine corrected, breathy and quiet. “Their secrets.” Her eyes fell back to the floor. She drew her knees up to her chest.

Alec had only made eye contact with three people during the time Agaliarept possessed him. Melusine, then Magnus, then Jocelyn. Magnus’ memories were clear, obvious. Melusine’s returned to him later, foggy and vague. Then Jocelyn’s. He could not think of Jocelyn right now. Not here.

“Do you know what I saw in your eyes?” He asked coolly. His throat tightened. For a moment, he sounded like the demon. He took a steadying breath. It was gone.

She shook her head, still staring at the concrete, her expression distant and numb. She reached down to trace invisible shapes on the ground with her index finger. Alec hesitated. His voice changed when he spoke again, the venom gone. “I saw Rusalka,” he explained softly, his tone now mimicking hers. Melusine buried her face in her knees. “Were you born in Edom?” Face still hidden, Melusine nodded. Alec contemplated the rarity of that. “It’s not very often that a warlock’s demonic parent is their mother.”

“Why are you here?” Melusine asked, her voice small. “To flaunt your victory in my face? You’ve done it.” He could hear the tears she struggled to hold back. He did not want to believe they were genuine. “Or are you done with me now? That’s what the Clave does, isn’t it? They wring out everything they can from a Downworlder and then snuff them out when they’re no longer of use. Are you going to kill me?” Her voice grew quieter still. “Am I going to die?”

He fought the urge to pity her, and he hated himself for it. But she was possessed. Is it any different for warlocks?

“Tell me about the weapon you made.” Alec knew he was repeating questions. He had gone over this yesterday. But he had to change the subject, and if Melusine really had been possessed—truly possessed—maybe she would answer now. She looked up at him, eyes round.

“The keris burns away mortal blood,” she offered, “and leaves demonic blood in its stead. You have to stab them through the heart for the full effect. Weird things happen if you don’t.” The explanation was so simple. So child-like. Alec blinked at her. Had it really been that easy?

He repeated the word silently in his head. Keris . The word nagged at him—he had heard it somewhere before. “Why?” he asked.

She shrugged. “We think Valentine wanted to use it on himself.”

“And what were you getting in return?” Alec pressed.

“It didn’t matter. Valentine had the cup. We had to do whatever he wanted.” She was staring at the floor again, scratching at a bump in the cement with one of her small, neatly-trimmed fingernails. She looked like a scolded child.

“You keep saying ‘ we ,’” Alec pointed out. Something akin to anxiety fluttered in his chest, an understanding that he was missing something important. “What about before Valentine had his demon possess you? Were you working with him?” Alec watched her closely. He assumed she would deny it either way, but he wanted to gauge her reaction.

Melusine’s eyes shot up. “Ari doesn’t belong to Valentine,” she groused, finally showing some emotion behind her shadowed eyes. “He’s my friend . He saved me. He made me powerful. And you sent him back to Edom.”

Alec paused. Her anger struck him in a strange way. “Melusine,” he asked carefully. “How long were you possessed?”

Melusine repositioned, crossing her legs beneath her. She leaned her elbows on her knees, and her face on her palms, distant gaze bored and sad. She stared ahead at the mirror. She did not answer, pressing her lips together stubbornly.

“Fine,” he said. He strode toward the door, but stopped there, facing her one last time. ”I only have one more question for you.”

“Ask away, Nephilim,” she sighed. “I’m clearly not going anywhere.”

“How much control did you have?” he asked. “How much of it was you, and how much was the demon—Agaliarept?”

Melusine met his gaze evenly. “How much control did you have?” she questioned back. Alec’s eyes searched hers, hunting desperately for some sign of the cruelty from before, the hatred, the evil.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he muttered. He let the door slam shut behind him as he left.

The truth was, Alec had no idea how much control he had. As far as he could recall, he never once tried to fight off Agaliarept after the demon possessed him. His desires were the demon’s desires. His actions were the demon’s actions. But they were also his own. He had no concept at all of where Agaliarept’s thoughts ended and his began. They fed off of each other, built on each other. 

He could not imagine existing like that for more than the few minutes he had. It was awful, all of his worst motivations ripped to the surface, forcing him to confront his most terrible desires. Was that how it was for her, too?

Jace waited outside, his arms crossed. He didn’t look up at Alec, eyes still locked on Melusine through the glass. “That was strange,” he commented. “How long do you think that demon was in her?”

“You should have seen her before,” Alec replied. Exhaustion flooded him, though the day had barely begun. He didn’t know how to feel. There was already too much history between them, too many lies, too much trickery. He turned and set off toward the elevator, not bothering to check if Jace followed. When the doors closed behind them, Jace cracked his knuckles nervously.

“Alec,” he asked. “Was it true? What you said in there, about seeing people’s secrets while you were possessed?”

Alec’s grip tightened on the handrail around the wall. He knew this was coming. “Yes,” he said shortly.

“You saw Jocelyn’s?” Jace asked. His eyes bore holes into Alec’s forehead. Alec did not meet them. “I understand if you don’t want to say it,” he added quietly “I just… I have to at least ask. I’ll drive myself crazy if I don’t.”

“I did,” Alec murmured.

“What was it?” The tension behind Jace’s words made them harsh and forceful. Alec let the silence stretch out, waging an internal war. He knew he would lose either way.

“Her son’s charred bones,” he finally said, “scattered beneath ashes and rubble.” Jace stared at the floor too now, clearly trying to hide the sheen in his eyes. Alec continued, his voice catching. “And then you, in the sight of her crossbow.”

“Really,” Jace muttered. It was not a question.

“She hated herself,” Alec answered, his voice barely a whisper. Above them, the elevator’s cheerful chime signaled their arrival back to the main floor.

~

Clary’s door was open when Alec rounded the corner of the hallway. A heavy sense of foreboding weighed on his chest—no amount of optimism or determination could prepare him for what he was about to do. He knocked on the open door, standing hesitantly in the frame.

Clary sat curled up in an armchair, bulky headphones covering her ears. She hunched over, face buried in a sketchbook that leaned against her raised knee, charcoals scattered on the end table beside her. She had not heard him.

“Clary,” Alec said, raising his voice. He waved his hand, hoping to catch her eye without having to intrude. Clary jumped, dropping a dulled cube of dark coal onto the floor. She pulled her headphones off and tossed the drawing pad to the side as she dropped down to retrieve the stray piece, feeling around on the rug. Alec stepped into the room. He knelt and retrieved it himself, several feet away from where she searched.

“Thanks,” Clary mumbled, accepting the charcoal from his outstretched hand. Everyone was staring at the floor today.

“I know nothing can ever fix what I’ve done,” Alec set forth. “I understand if you never want to see me or talk to me again. I just—” he cut off, swallowing back the burning in his throat. “I need you to know how sorry I am. I would do anything to take it back.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Clary choked out. She could not meet his eyes. “But please understand why I kind of don’t want to look at you right now.”

“I understand,” he murmured. He turned to leave. Maybe time and space were the best things he could give her right now. He had said what needed to be said.

“Wait,” Clary called. Alec stopped in his tracks, turning back toward her. Clary’s eyes met his. After Melusine’s vacant hollowness, Clary’s surfeit of emotional expressiveness was almost overwhelming. Anger burned bright beneath her layers of grief. Sadness. Hurt. Frustration. Alec saw it all, buried behind red-rimmed eyes. Her voice came stronger now. Steely. Determined. “What if you could take it back?”

Chapter Text

The cozy brownstone Clary pointed out appeared anything but sinister. All the same, Alec kept one hand poised to reach for his quiver. He stood on the doorstep, just behind Clary, scanning the windows and surrounding area for any sign of trouble. With a feather-light hand on her shoulder, he halted her before she knocked, and laid one hand flat across the door as he spoke. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” His stomach twisted in knots. “Magnus has always said that raising the dead is dark, twisted magic. It never turns out how you want.”

“Alec,” Clary pleaded, “we have to at least try. She said she can. Magnus can do all kinds of incredible things—why wouldn’t other warlocks have their own, different talents? Just because he can’t do it doesn’t mean she can’t.” Alec looked away, unable to face the hope in her watery gaze.

“Magnus won’t do this,” he mumbled. Finally, still staring over her head, he lifted his hand from the door and knocked. He had a bad feeling. But after all he had done, all the pain he had caused Clary, how could he deny her this? How could he not at least try?

The door swung open, a dark, austere, and very pregnant woman glowering up at them. Her suspicious gaze examined them before she finally spoke. “Are you here to see Dr. Rouse?”

Clary’s mouth moved without words, caught up in the unexpected appearance of the mundane. “Yes, um,” she finally managed, “I think she’s expecting me. My name’s Clary.”

“I was indeed expecting you,” came a palliative, cheerful voice from behind the door. “I only wondered when.” The pregnant woman stepped back, letting the door swing open fully. Behind her stood the warlock—middle aged in appearance, with long, dark auburn hair pinned back into a functional twist, bangs stirring over her eyebrows: Iris Rouse. He remembered Magnus mentioning her before—a morally questionable warlock who apparently raised a lot of children, and who had cooperated with Melusine. Physically, she actually reminded Alec a little bit of Jocelyn. The resemblance put him on edge, all of his instincts bristling to turn around and leave. “And I see you brought a guest,” she continued pleasantly, stepping into the doorway to greet them. “Your boyfriend?”

“Uh—” Clary started.

“No,” they denied in unison, shooting each other appalled glances that bordered on disgust.

Iris stared between them for a moment, puzzling over the response. She turned to Alec. “Well, whatever you are, leave your weapon outside.” At his raised eyebrow, she waved a hand dismissively. “Any warlock worth a damn can see through shadowhunter glamour with ease. Don’t worry, it’ll be safe in the alcove.” She gestured just inside the doorway. Alec’s eyes fell to Clary, waiting for her to decide whether to proceed. His mission here was to protect her.

Clary nodded, then stepped inside. With a deep breath Alec followed, unglamouring his bow and quiver, and resting them carefully against the wall. He felt naked and vulnerable without them. His pulse quickened, every part of him tense and ready in case he needed to dive back toward his weapons. Sure, not all Downworlders were bad people. He had moved past that childhood conditioning long ago. But that didn’t mean that none were.

Red Moroccan rugs lined the floors inside the house, clashing sharply with the ornate orange, red, and green wallpaper. Picture frames of various children stood on a narrow console table, interspersed with knick knacks and trinkets. It looked like a tacky, half-baked attempt at imitating that classy, cozy ambiance of Magnus’ apartment. It missed the mark. Alec struggled to hide his distaste. If anything is bad about this woman, it’s her interior decorating skills. The train of thought skidded to a halt seconds later. Oh gods, I’m turning into Magnus.

He caught the tail end of Iris and Clary’s conversation and swept all other thoughts to the side, suddenly flooded with panicked concern. “Paperwork?” he asked, eyes darting between them as he repeated the last word he heard.

“Oh, yeah,” Iris confirmed. “Just a simple pin prick, for the blood oath—for the favor we talked about.” She looked back to Clary, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Alec said firmly. “I don’t know about any favor.” When warlocks wanted favors, it was never good. Unless it was Magnus. Or Catarina—Alec owed her.

“It’s fine, Alec,” Clary assured him. “I want to do this.”

Before Alec could protest more, the warlock had moved on, her voice bright and soothing but fast-talking as she beckoned Clary up the wood-carved staircase. “Delightful. Follow me. Your friend can wait here for you, in the waiting room.”

“No,” Alec asserted, his voice low. It stopped them in their tracks. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing tall and brushing his shoulder protectively against Clary’s. “I’m not leaving her side.”

“Oh,” Iris hesitated, looking between them pityingly. “Then I can’t do this.” Her gaze settled again on Clary with a helpless shrug. “His energy is too turbulent,” she explained. “I need calm, and he is not calm.”

“Alright, I’m going to need to see some credentials,” Alec shot back tersely. “Show me your mark.”

Iris’ eyes widened, mocking something between offended and afraid. Her voice came low and smooth, almost a purr. “Dear, if a lady has concealed her warlock mark, assume it’s for good reason.”

Alec rolled his eyes, preparing to turn both himself and Clary around and march out of the building. This lady was clearly up to something. “Alec, it’s okay,” Clary cut him off quickly. “I’ll be fine, really.” Iris watched them. She reminded Alec of a spider, poised and ready to lure in her next meal, to tangle them in a web of promises and half-truths. It was an insult to spiders. He wanted nothing to do with her. But Clary was determined, and stubborn. She stared Alec down, reeling him in with a firm grip on his arm. Lips pressed into a thin, tense line, he stepped back, retreating toward the chair closest to his weapons.

Silence closed in around him. Alec bounced one foot anxiously on the ground, wondering how long he had to wait before it would be reasonable to go up and check on Clary and the warlock woman. The whisper of small, soft socks shuffling along the floor drew his attention sharply upward, but he immediately relaxed when he saw who the intruder was, a warm smile lighting up his expression.

“Hello,” he said gently. A young girl stood at the base of the staircase, appraising Alec with cautious suspicion. She looked to be only about six or seven, with brown skin and tight, wispy brown curls. She wore a casual purple dress, and had a purple and green scarf tied conspicuously around her neck. Based on what he knew of Iris, his first guess would be that it hid a warlock mark. When she remained unmoving, Alec nodded and returned to staring at the floor, not wanting to frighten her. Eventually, she tiptoed silently over to him, craning her neck to steal a glance at the side of his own, staring wide-eyed at the Deflect rune there.

“It’s a nice place,” Alec commented casually. He made a show of looking around the room he had spent the last ten minutes silently insulting in his mind. He spent some extra time examining the ceiling so that the kid could get a lengthy, guilt-free peek at the rune she gawked at so curiously. “Where are all your toys?” he asked, turning back to her.

Still keeping her lips sealed tightly together, the girl spun and pointed up the stairs. She twisted her neck around to stare after her gesture. The scarf jostled free as she did so, revealing a set of pulsating gills that seemed to open and close as she breathed. She caught Alec looking at her and hastily dropped her chin down, pulling the scarf back into place and regarding him with defensive wariness. Alec shot her a tentative smile. “Cool gills.” Finally, she smiled back.

She was adorable. Alec couldn’t help but melt into a full grin. His heart jumped in his chest, glad she no longer seemed afraid of him. If there was one thing he despised about being a Shadowhunter, it was that fear. Not that he could blame any Downworlder parents for raising their kids with a healthy fear of the Clave. He just wished they didn’t have to. Upstairs, a baby started crying. The girl turned quickly, feet padding heavily on the floor as she stomped back up the stairs toward the noise.

Something about it didn’t sit right with Alec. Aside from the crying, everything was quiet. The bad feeling he had pushed away earlier returned, now ten times stronger. He leaned over and snatched up his bow and quiver, then stepped soundlessly upstairs after the child.

The girl was gone when he reached the landing. One door sat open, and through it, the pregnant woman from before stepped out. She bounced a baby in her arms. When she saw Alec standing there, she froze, then covered the baby’s face and spun around. She was not quick enough. He did not miss the way that the baby’s dark eyes blinked sideways, like a crocodile’s. How many warlock children does Iris have? he wondered. The woman slammed the door shut between them. He stepped up to it and knocked gently.

After a moment of shuffling around the woman emerged without the baby. She slipped out of the room, keeping the door as tightly closed as possible so Alec could not see inside. Uneasy tension tightened his grip on his glamoured bow. “Shh,” she murmured. “There’s babies sleeping.” Her movements and words seemed almost robotic. Alec felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He took a steadying breath, loud in the empty silence of the eerie house.

“I’m looking for Clary,” he growled, his voice low and authoritative.

The woman shook her head slowly, an expression of genuine confusion drawing her brows together. “Who?”

“I came here with her,” he pressed, his voice gentler now but still firm. “You met her. Where is she?” The woman only shook her head again, completely lost. Erased , he realized. She already doesn’t remember.

All pretenses fell. He darted over to the only other door on the landing and swung it open. The room was empty. The colors here were softer than the rest of the house, sheer white curtains billowing around the open window. Broken shards of a delicate, china teacup were scattered across the floor. And in the middle of them, stiff and cold, was a dead raven.

“Where is she?” Alec muttered quietly to himself, his heart hammering. He turned back to the woman, who still stood confused in the hallway, and he shouted. “Where is she?!” The woman only stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified. He brushed past her, darting up to the next floor and barging through the remainder of the house, slamming doors behind him as he went. Somewhere below him, the baby resumed its crying. They can’t have gone far. Clary would not have willingly stepped through a portal. And she had her stele. He knew he was grasping at straws. He yanked his own stele from his pocket, activating every  remotely useful rune. The familiar burning pain of the marks calmed his mind. He had to focus. He had to find her. Where would Iris have taken her?

The soft click of a latch in hall, perceptible only because of his now rune-enhanced hearing, caught his ear. He launched himself toward it head first, catching Iris off-guard as she stepped onto the landing. He slammed her against the wall. “Where’s Clary?” he demanded. His eyes flicked to the door she had just emerged from. “In there?”

Iris gasped as her back and head bounced against the hard surface. Her surprise quickly dissolved into smugness. She tossed Alec aside with a flick of her wrist, the dizzy static of magic roaring in his sensitive ears. “You’ve got to do better than that, cheekbones,” she smirked. Alec struggled to push himself up, but the weight of whatever spell she maintained pinned him firmly in place. Somewhere behind him, a tiny voice piped up.

“Nana!” The pitter-patter of little footsteps bounced across the hardwood. “Nana, no!” From his spot on the floor, Alec saw tiny green socks peeking out from under a purple dress.

“Oh, hi, honey bun!” Iris chuckled nervously. Alec heard her shift, and kneel. “The man and I are just playing, Madzie,” she soothed. “Why don’t you go back inside to your room?”

Alec steadied his breathing, listening carefully. The roaring in his ears receded. The spell. She lost her focus. He tested his theory, pushing himself up with all the force he could muster. He landed on his feet, swinging his bow around in front of him. Almost just as quickly, Iris scooped up the girl—Madzie—and held her close to her body, using her as a tiny human shield. Alec kept his bow level, refusing to show his hesitation, but tightened his grip.

“Using a child to protect you, Iris?” he asked bitterly. “Some guardian you are.”

“We help each other,” she replied shortly. “Madzie has a better life with me than she ever would out there in the cold, cruel world.” With a swirl of her free hand, a glimmering portal spun to life behind her. “When you rescue your redhead, tell her she still owes me that favor.” And then she was gone, and the little girl was gone too.

I have to save that girl , he thought. But he forced his thoughts to more immediate matters. I have to save Clary .

He tore through the house, searching for any sign of where Clary might be. If Iris was still in the house, she must be too. Finally, a muffled scream from below Alec’s feet sent him running toward the ground level.

Alec broke through the basement door and skidded around the corner just in time to see a demon disintegrate, scattered into a thousand tiny embers by a brilliant beam of light, originating from Clary’s left hand. He held his breath, rooted to the spot until the light faded. He had never seen anything like it. Clary stood staring blankly at her own palm, her eyes glazed over as if she had been drugged.

“Clary!” Alec called. He strode into the room, catching her just as she stumbled forward. “Clary, what was that?”

“It was a rune,” she mumbled. She blinked away the bleariness in her eyes, standing up on her own and brushing away Alec's arms. Alec grabbed her hand and examined her palm, but no mark remained.

“A rune?” Alec asked. “Clary, there’s no rune like that in the Gray Book.”

“I saw it in a vision,” she murmured. Her hands shook. Alec realized she might be in shock.

“Never mind that,” he said. He shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Let’s get you back home.”

~

Magnus peered into the doorway from the Institute’s residential hallway. He had never been to this area before—it was quite a bit past Alec’s room, so he had never had reason to. The space before him was cozy and warm, yet very functional—an odd mix between a homey living room and a dormitory lounge, with a small table and a row of countertops lining the back wall that held a few small kitchen appliances. His posture relaxed when he spotted Alec leaning tiredly against the table, sipping from a steaming mug. A few feet away, Clary sat curled up on a sofa, Alec’s jacket dwarfing her. Magnus’ gaze lingered on it curiously.

When Alec spotted him, one corner of his lips twitched upward into a small, relieved smile. Magnus’ heart stuttered even at that tiny gesture. It was good to see Alec smile. He had missed him already, even though they woke up in each other’s arms that very morning. However, the smile was short-lived. Just as quickly, Alec’s mouth tugged downward again, as if he had just remembered something. He stood up straight as Magnus entered the room, striding over to him.

“How’s Clary?” Magnus asked quietly.

“She’s a lot better than she was. It was a weird afternoon.”

Magnus nodded. “If what you messaged me was true, I would have to agree.”

“There’s actually something else I wanted to talk to you about, before the others get here,” Alec said, shifting uneasily. Magnus picked up on his tension, and started to feel a bit anxious himself.

“What is it?”

“I spoke to Melusine this morning,” Alec murmured. “I found something out that you might want to know. I… I think I know what her weapon is.”

Magnus tensed at the quiet gravity of Alec's tone. "Go on."

"She said it burns away all of someone's mundane blood, replacing it with demon blood," Alec started. He hesitated, then pressed forward, keeping his words careful and gentle. "Magnus, do you still have the knife that I saw in your memories? It was a keris , right?"

"I don't," Magnus answered. "Camille had it. I never got it back from our Agra house after our falling out." His heart hammered.

"I don't think Camille has it anymore," Alec replied. He ran his hand along Magnus' arm, holding his gaze, eyes brimming with sympathy. "Melusine said the weapon she enchanted was a keris ."

"Oh." Magnus nodded. "You're probably right." He didn't know how to feel, or how to even start processing that information. It sounded just like Melusine's brand of torture. Before he could say anything else, their quiet conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Jace and Isabelle.

"What the hell, Alec?" Jace started, stomping straight over to his parabatai. "You could have gotten her killed!"

Alec rolled his eyes. "What would have gotten her killed would have been going in there alone, which she would have done if I hadn't gone with her." He crossed his arms stubbornly.

"I'm right here, guys," came Clary's tired protest.

"That is not what's important right now anyways," Alec cut in.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Really? Not important?" He seemed to be preparing to launch into a lecture. Izzy grinned at Magnus, and they both shared a knowing smirk, settling in for the show.

Alec jumped in before Jace could begin. "Clary made a rune. A new one. One that isn't in the Gray Book."

Everyone turned to look at the now sheepish redhead, eyes wide. Magnus stood up straighter, his keris momentarily forgotten. This was interesting. He had never heard of anything like it in all of his centuries.

"What kind of rune?" Izzy asked, eyes alight.

"Sunlight," Clary answered.

The three trained Shadowhunters in the room exchanged glances. Jace spoke up first. "The Silent Brothers use some runes that we don't have access to. Maybe it's one of those? Clary might have seen it somewhere in the City of Bones?"

Isabelle nodded thoughtfully. "Clary," she asked, "could you make another one? On the spot?"

Clary shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

A few minutes later, Clary was seated at the table, sketchbook and charcoal in hand. She stared down at the blank page, hesitant and lost. "I need something to go off of," she said. "Does anyone have any ideas? What's a rune that doesn't exist?"

Magnus eyed Alec, thinking of a few very specific options then and there. Alec caught him staring and blushed bright red, shaking his head and averting his gaze, very correctly assuming the direction of Magnus’ thoughts.

From the corner of the room came Jace’s quiet suggestion. “How about Fearless.”

“Fearless?” Clary echoed.

“There are runes for bravery,” Jace explained, “but none to take away fear itself.”

“That’s true,” Izzy confirmed. “Seems harmless enough.” Magnus could think of many ways in which a lack of fear would be the exact opposite of harmless, but he held his tongue.

“Alright,” Clary said. “Fearless.” She murmured the word to herself, again and again, under her breath. Magnus watched with fascination as her eyes went distant, as if she stared directly through the paper, her hand moving with deliberate, practiced strokes. “Okay,” she finally sighed. “I think it’s done.”

“You think?” Alec repeated, examining the paper skeptically.

“Only one way to find out,” Izzy chirped. “Who’s our guinea pig?”

“Do me,” Jace chimed in, holding out his arm as he strode to the table.

“Really, blondie,” Magnus responded, “literally no one here wants to.” Jace rolled his eyes. Clary blushed and looked away. Magnus smirked.

“I don’t think Jace would make much sense, anyways” Izzy added, still snickering at Magnus’ joke. “He’s already the most reckless one of all of us. We’ll never know if it works.” Her eyes settled pointedly on Alec.

“No,” Alec said.

“Oh, come on,” Izzy begged.

Alec sucked his lips in and shook his head. “Not happening.”

Magnus sidestepped toward his boyfriend, lacing their hands together. Alec watched him cautiously. “It really is a stupid idea,” Magnus agreed. Alec let out a premature sigh of relief. “But, if you were to put it on anyone, I agree that Alexander is the best candidate.”

Alec glared at him, betrayed. “Et tu, Magnus?” 

Magnus only grinned. “Honestly I’m kind of curious, myself. I’ll be right here to stop you in case you do anything particularly stupid.”

Alec frowned, examining his expression. Finally, he let out a long huff. “Fine,” he said. “I guess I could do with some fearlessness. Do me.”

“Now that can be arranged,” Magnus winked. Alec blushed again and stuttered some quiet rebuff, looking away. Jace rolled his eyes. He procured his stele, grabbing Alec’s arm. Without further fanfare, he painstakingly traced the mark across the top side of Alec’s wrist. Alec winced. When the mark was complete, Jace stood back proudly.

“There,” he said, “all done.”

“Do you feel any different?” Clary asked.

Alec stared down at the rune, considering the question. “No,” he said, “not really.”

“Well,” Izzy added, “We need to try to scare him to be sure. What scares you, Alec?”

“Uh… ” Alec thought about it. “Spiders?”

“We don’t exactly have a bunch of spiders just lying around,” Jace commented wryly.

“Well I can’t think of anything else,” Alec shot back. “Maybe this was a stupid experiment.”

“What about the dark?” Clary suggested. “We could lock you in the basement.”

“I'm a demon hunter," Alec said, with exaggerated patience. "Clearly, I am not afraid of the dark."

"Well, you might be."

"But I'm not."

“Whatever,” Jace said. “Clearly it didn’t work. That Sunlight rune is probably just some rune that the Silent Brothers or Iron Sister use that Clary accidentally caught a glimpse of. Clary, Izzy, I wanted to ask you about that debrief I missed…” Jace struck up unrelated conversation.

“Magnus,” Alec started, his voice low so only they could hear. “While we have a moment, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you.”

“By all means,” Magnus spurred. Something tickled at the back of his mind. Alec looked… excited? Resolved? Like he was finally getting something big off of his chest. What if… ?

The ring of Alec’s phone interrupted their conversation. “Sorry,” Alec mumbled. “It’s my mom. One second.”

He stepped away, murmuring his greetings in a low voice so as not to interrupt the other conversations in the room. Magnus wandered over to the other three shadowhunters, half listening to some conversation about a mission gone comedically awry the evening before. Giving into his nosiness, he tuned back in to Alec’s quiet words across the room.

“Oh, she’s there too?” Alec was saying. “Good. Mom, put me on speaker.” He paused. “Yeah,  we can transfer her whenever you’re ready, Madam Inquisitor. But Mom, one more thing before you hang up.” Another pause. “I mean, it’s not a huge deal but it is kind of important for you to know.” Magnus realized the rest of the table had gone quiet. They all looked at each other, every one of them eavesdropping on Alec’s conversation, as if they all knew something terrible was about to happen, but none of them moved to stop it. “I’m gay,” Alec said matter-of-factly, “and I’m dating Magnus Bane.”

“Alec!” Izzy exclaimed, darting up from her chair. She plucked the phone out of his hand. “Sorry, mom, Alec’s not feeling very well right now.” She ended the call.

“What the hell, Izzy?” Alec complained. “I was in the middle of a conversation. The Inquisitor was there! You can’t just hang up on the Inquisitor.”

“You can’t just tell the Inquisitor you’re gay , either, Alec!” Izzy exclaimed. “Not that I’m not supportive, but that was not the way to do it! You’re going to get yourself excommunicated!”

Alec shrugged. “Who cares?”

Jace laughed out loud. “By the angel, it fucking worked.”

Magnus watched the whole ordeal with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should put Alec down, or if it was already too late for such an action to be useful. Alec turned to face him.

“Magnus, about what I wanted to tell you.”

“… yes?” Magnus asked hesitantly. He wondered if he should put an end to this now, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Alec leaned in, speaking quietly, but not quietly enough that everyone else in the room could not clearly hear him. “Well,” he started. “Two things actually. The first one is, I want you to fuck me.”

Magnus choked. Jace choked. Izzy burst out laughing. Clary gasped, staring at Alec with big, round eyes. 

“Of course, m on ange ,” Magnus chuckled. “But I don’t think this is the time nor the place.” Alec was never going to forgive him for keeping him conscious right now.

“No, you don’t understand,” Alec clarified. “I always fuck you. I want you to fuck me,” Now Jace burst out laughing, too.

“You mean,” Magnus clarified, stuttering, “you… you want to bottom?” His voice was high pitched and small, choked off in surprise.

“Yes!” Alec agreed, nodding. “I want to bottom.” Magnus had to admit, hearing those words so boldly from Alec’s lips, right in front of the entire group, was definitely a turn on. But Alec would never forgive him if he allowed this to continue.

“Alec?” Magnus asked.

“Yes, Magnus?” Alec answered, searching his eyes hopefully.

“Good night.”

And with that, Alec’s eyes fluttered closed. Magnus caught him before he hit the floor, draping him gingerly across the sofa.

“Well,” he said. “That was eventful!”

Chapter Text

Alec could tell before he opened his eyes that he was in Magnus’ apartment. He recognized the cozy warmth of the sofa supporting him, and the familiar, comforting smells of his boyfriend’s home. On the coattails of every thought hung a heavy grogginess that threatened to drag him back to sleep. He fought against the fog. Wasn’t he at the Institute only a few seconds ago?

“Magnus?” he called sleepily, pushing himself upright. Soft footsteps padded toward him from the work room. Magnus emerged wearing a loose, silky teal top that cut low down his chest, over a pair of equally silky black pants. Poking out beneath the hem, his toes were wrapped in black fuzzy socks. Alec smiled up at him, bleary-eyed. Even Magnus’ home wear was fabulous. He would never get tired it.

“You’re awake!” Magnus declared. He handed Alec a steaming mug of… something. It glowed faintly purple. Alec eyed it warily. “For the grogginess,” Magnus specified. “That sleeping curse comes with quite the hangover.”

“You cursed me?!” Alec exclaimed, aghast. He sat up fully and took a hesitant sip from the mug. It tasted like honey, lavender, and sugar—surprisingly pleasant. “What did I—?” He cut off, his eyes growing wide as the haze clouding his mind faded away. “The Fearless rune. Oh my gods, Magnus, what have I done? Why did I do that?” His heart leapt to his throat, imagining the chaos that probably waited for him back at the Institute. He pictured his mother portaling in, followed by the Inquisitor. Excommunication. Exile. Deruning. He shook it off. Stop being insane.

  Magnus smirked. He plopped down next to his boyfriend on the couch, his grin widening. “What happened to ‘by the Angel’ as your exclamation of choice? Am I rubbing off on you that much?”

Alec stuttered. The phrase had snuck out unnoticed. “I… I don’t know,” he managed. “I guess so.” He thought he spied a faint, self-satisfied blush rising on Magnus’ cheeks. Eyes falling to the coffee table beside them, he spotted his phone and snatched it up, sifting through his notifications.

“How did I get here?” he asked Magnus, eyes never straying from his messaging app. The clock on his lock screen indicated that only a few hours had passed since their meeting in the Institute, but he had already gathered as much from the setting sun, sinking behind the city skyline through the window. He had half a dozen text messages waiting for him.

Iz - 16:43

I covered for you with Mom.

I said you still had some lingering effects from the possession.

Don’t know how much she bought it.

Iz - 17:32

When you wake up, shoot me a text okay?

I want to know you’re alright.

Alec Lightwood - 19:07

I’m awake. Back to normal.

“I portaled you over,” Magnus answered. “I would have put you on the bed if I’d known how long you would be out. I’m out of practice with sleeping curses, so I miscalculated the strength a bit.” He rubbed his chin. “I should really brush up on those.”

[16:56 - Missed call from Mom.]

 

Mom - 16:57

Call me.

A lump rose in Alec’s throat. He was not ready to speak to his mother. How could he possibly face her? Sure, his siblings and friends already knew everything. But his parents had been in Idris, completely unaware of Magnus, or that Alec was even gay at all. They had no clue—until now. He had wanted to tell them, but he wanted to do it delicately. In person. He swiped past that conversation without opening it, not wanting his mother to see that he had read it. He couldn’t even think about it right now.

Jace - 17:08

Dude. That was wild.

So… I guess I know what you’re getting up to tonight. 😉
Or more accurately… what’s getting up yOU 😏😏😏

Or, you know. WHO is getting up you.

Get it 😉

… It’s Magnus.

He’s getting up you.

Because you want him to…

Never mind, I’m sure you get it.

Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

… Wait, nevermind. I take that back.

💖ENJOY DOING SOMETHING I WOULDN’T DO! 😘

Jace - 17:22

Also, please text Izzy when you wake up before she wears a hole in the floor.

And thank her for getting Mom off your tail because holy HELL was that woman losing it.

Jace - 18:14

How you doing, Sleeping Beauty?

Has Prince Charming awakened you yet from your cursed slumber?

Did you ride into the sunset on his enchanted carriage?

Alec Lightwood - 19:08

Fuck off.

I hate you.

 

Alec could feel the blood rushing to his face. “Uh, Magnus,” he blurted, looking up from the phone to the patiently waiting warlock.

Jace - 19:08

Alive and well, I see.

Love you too, bud! 💖

I’m assuming I won’t see you until tomorrow so have a good night. 😉

“Yes?” Magnus had one eyebrow quirked. He already knew what was coming, but he was making Alec say it.

“About what I said…” Alec shifted so he faced Magnus, his legs crossed. Magnus scooted in closer, resting his arm across the back of the sofa so his hand stretched just past Alec’s shoulder. Almost instinctively, Alec leaned into the contact, resting his head on Magnus’ arm. “I’m not ready for that,” he admitted. “That’s why I hadn’t brought it up to you before. It is something that… that I think I want. But… not yet. I’m sorry.”

Magnus stroked Alec’s cheek with his thumb. He lowered his head so their gazes met. Staring into Magnus’ golden, feline eyes, full of love and acceptance, Alec’s heart felt like it might burst. “Don’t apologize, Alexander,” Magnus said. “I care about you. I want you to be happy. If that means you want to switch things up, then I’m more than excited for it. If it means you’d rather let things be as they are for now, then I’m excited for that, as well. I’m immortal, mon ange . Taking things too slowly isn’t really an issue for me—even if you decide it’s something you’d rather never do. There are plenty of other ways for us to express our affection for each other.”

Alec nodded. His heart fluttered at the nickname. Magnus had finally found one he didn’t mind. He closed his eyes as Magnus’ thumb ran over his lips.

“That being said,” Magnus continued quietly, “if you have questions about receiving anal sex—insecurities, anything like that—I’d much rather you just talk to me about it than bottle it up. It’s okay to be uncertain. And you don’t have to figure things out on your own. I’m here for you.”

Alec kissed his thumb. “Thank you, Magnus. I… I actually would like that—to ask you some things about it. Maybe in a few days, once everything at the Institute blows over?” He watched Magnus hesitantly. With all the chaos swirling around them, he just couldn’t think about it right now.

“That sounds like a lovely idea, mon ange .” Warmth swirled through Alec’s chest. He shuffled around and leaned further into Magnus’ arms. They both sighed. Lowering his head to murmur into Alec’s ear, Magnus added, “I do have one thing to ask you , though.”

“What is it?” Alec laced their fingers together. He had responsibilities to attend to back at the Institute, but he never wanted to get up. Magnus’ lips against his ear did things to him.

“What was the second thing you were going to tell me? After you very publicly announced your mild interest in riding me off into the sunset.”

Alec sat up, pulling away from Magnus and blushing bright red—and not because of Magnus’ word choice. “Uh, nothing,” he lied. “Were you reading Jace’s messages over my shoulder?”

“Of course I was. And come on, it was definitely something .” Magnus closed the space between them and planted a series of scattered kisses across Alec’s shoulder blades. “I want to know what you were going to say,” he murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric of Alec’s black cotton shirt.

“Really, Magnus,” Alec denied weakly. “It was nothing.”

“Fine,” Magnus sighed. “Keep your secrets. I’ll get it out of you eventually.” He wrapped his arms around Alec’s waist, nuzzling his back.

Alec leaned into the embrace and smiled. “I know you will.”

“Ah, so you’re planning for me to wrangle it out of you?” Magnus teased. He slid his hands lower, hooking his fingers through Alec’s belt loops.

“No,” Alec answered honestly. His breath hitched. He untangled Magnus’ grip from his pants, and felt the warlock’s lips pout against his neck as he pulled away. Then he turned around, straddling Magnus on the sofa. The pout curled into a lascivious grin. “But I’m sure it’ll come up sooner or later.”

“Pity,” Magnus breathed. His pupils expanded, lips parting. His arms rose to wrap around Alec as the shadowhunter ground his hips into him. “I was planning on using my pursuit of the truth as an excuse to keep you here.”

“You don’t need an excuse.” Alec’s responsibilities back at the Institute could wait a little longer. He bent down and caught Magnus’ mouth against his. When they parted, he added, “Just ask me to stay. I will. Every time.”

“Hmm…” Magnus mocked hesitation. “I don’t know, there are so many things you aren’t telling me…” He could only pretend so much—his hands had fallen to cup Alec’s ass. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Two could play at this game. “Well, if you want me to leave…” Alec moved to sit up, dropping one leg to the floor.

“No,” Magnus dropped the act and grabbed at him, tugging him back in closer. He pulled one of Alec’s hands up, kissing each one of his knuckles. “Stay with me. And take your shirt off.” A faint heat coiled in Alec’s stomach. He did as he was told, dropping the black cotton t-shirt onto the floor behind him.

Magnus’ breath tickled Alec’s chest hair as he danced his fingers across Alec’s waistband, then unbuttoned his jeans. Alec’s abs rippled at the light touch. He tugged at Magnus’ shirt, and the warlock raised his arms cooperatively. Alec leaned down to kiss his boyfriend, but was met with a rough push back into the cushions, landing with Magnus draped over him.

Normally at this point, Magnus would be straddling him. But Alec’s brain was still half circling around their earlier conversation, and he parted his legs without a second thought, welcoming the delicious friction of the warlock grinding against him. His heart hammered. Magnus mumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like fuck .

Unsure what else to do with his legs after that, Alec hooked them up around Magnus’ back, using them to pull him closer. Magnus moaned, rubbing against him. “Are you sure this is okay?” the warlock breathed. He sucked a dark bruise into Alec’s neck. “You just said…”

“I’m the one who wrapped my legs around you ,” Alec pointed out between gasps. “And we’re both still wearing pants, it’s… it’s a little far off from what I meant. This is fine.” Magnus smirked at the desperation in Alec’s voice. Something about that motion—the warlock’s hips thrusting into him—drove Alec wild. He let out a quiet moan, and Magnus’ hips stuttered.

“Gods you’re so hot,” Magnus groaned into his lips, kissing him voraciously.

Alec could only take so much of the teasing and grinding. His hardness strained against his jeans, which Magnus had unfastened but made no further attempt to remove. Tugging on Magnus’ waistband finally got the point across.

“You’re right—fewer clothes,” Magnus agreed between kisses. He sat back, giving Alec room to unzip and shimmy out of his jeans as he stepped out of his own silky black pants. Alec’s erection sprang free and he sat up, tossing his pants to the side. Then he stood, pulling Magnus into a fathomless, hungry kiss, their bodies pressed together.

Magnus guided Alec backwards until his skin met cold glass. Alec recalled then that the curtains were all completely open, and wondered just how visible Magnus’ apartment was to the outside world. “Magnus,” he mumbled into their kiss. “The windows.”

Magnus sank to his knees. “I know,” he breathed, kissing his way down Alec’s body. “I hope you leave a nephilim-shaped body print on it. I want to stare at it in the morning and remember the sounds you make when you come.”

Alec stifled a snicker, torn between bafflement and arousal. “Won’t—” Magnus teased the sensitive skin over Alec’s balls with his tongue, leaving him gasping, completely unable to finish the sentence. “Won’t… someone… see us?” he finally managed. His hands wound through the lengthy crown of Magnus’ hair, pulling at it until Magnus moaned.

“The whole thing is glamoured, remember?” Magnus reminded him, taking a breather. “We could fuck on the balcony and no one would see.”

Alec did not have time to respond, because then Magnus’ lips were wrapped around his cock and he couldn’t do anything but struggle to catch his breath. He liked the way the chill from the glass soaked into his skin and through his body—the combination of the cold surface and the warmth of Magnus’ tongue swirling over the head of his dick. He pressed his free hand—the one that wasn’t busy in Magnus’ hair—against the window. Then he brushed it against the warlock’s face. Magnus ceased his head bobbing and inhaled sharply. “That’s cold !”

“That’s what my whole back feels like,” Alec smirked. “You can’t handle just a little of it?”

The spark of a challenge gleamed in Magnus’ eye. “You want to fuck me against the glass?”

“You suggested it, not me.”

Magnus was on his feet in an instant. “Do it.” He gasped when Alec spun him around and pinned his chest against the window. “ Fuck , it’s freezing.” Alec kissed his neck, biting and sucking, sliding his dick—still wet with precum and spit—up and down along Magnus’ ass.

“Too cold for you?” he murmured. He nipped just under the warlock’s earlobe, tugging lightly on his earring.

“No,” Magnus moaned. Alec discovered the bottle of lube already in his hand. Advantages of a warlock boyfriend, he repeated silently, recalling Magnus’ words that morning.

“Good,” he breathed quietly. Holding Magnus against the window by his shoulder, Alec massaged one finger around his hole, eliciting an undignified whimper from his warlock. At this angle he was a lot tighter, making his prostate much more difficult to reach. Alec dropped to his knees so he could prepare Magnus properly. “Can I eat you out?” he asked. It was a small first, but Alec had thought about it a lot lately—he stared up at Magnus hopefully.

“Yes. Please,” Magnus breathed. His words clouded the glass beside his face. Alec held Magnus’ cheeks apart and dragged his tongue up from his balls over his entrance. Magnus’ breath grew labored, the fog on the  glass thickening even more as Alec circled the rippled skin and pushed his tongue inside of him. With a consistent pressure, Alec eased through the ring of resistance, smiling against the warlock’s ass as he felt the rim loosen, opening to his ministrations. Magnus moaned when Alec replaced his tongue with a lubed finger, gradually working it deeper until he could find his prostate before adding another.

“Are you ready, babe?” Alec asked, his voice rough. Anxiety fluttered in his chest at tossing in the pet name, but Magnus didn’t seem to notice, only nodding. He kissed Magnus’ left ass cheek, noticing that the warlock had pulled almost completely away from the glass as he leaned in to the persistent thrusting of Alec’s hand. Alec stood up, and forcefully pinned the warlock’s entire body to the chilled glass once more, caging him in between his hands. Magnus gasped.

“Fff—fuck. That’s so cold.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“N—no.”

“On your toes.”

Magnus followed Alec’s instructions dutifully, standing up as tall as he could on the balls of his feet. Alec still had to bend down slightly, but he made it work. He pressed into Magnus, and both of them moaned as the head of his cock slid past Magnus’ rim.

“Fuck, you’re so tight like this.” Alec hid his face in Magnus’ neck. Magnus lifted his arms and knotted his fingers through Alec’s hair.

“Harder.” Now it was Alec’s turn to follow instructions. He buried himself inside of Magnus, thrusting harder. Magnus whined and moaned. “Ah—yes!” Alec knew he had hit the spot. Magnus tugged harder at his hair, bouncing slightly on his toes.

Alec warmed one of his hands against his body, waiting until all of the chill was gone before he reached around and took Magnus’ cock in his grasp. Magnus groaned, his head leaning back into Alec as he pushed himself away from the cold glass so he could thrust into Alec’s grip.

The pressure on Alec’s dick was unbearable. Tension rose inside of him. Magnus gasped. “I’m going to come.” He tightened around Alec’s cock, painting the glass in front of him. The squeeze of his orgasm dragged Alec over the edge with him. Alec’s knees went weak, his whole body shaking as he filled Magnus up.

They collapsed on the sofa in a tangled pile of limbs, patches of cold skin brushing against each other. Magnus handed Alec a small, conjured towel.

“Wow,” Magnus said, still catching his breath. “Maybe we should explore ice play.”

Alec laughed. “Ice is wet. That sounds awful.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “ Sex is wet.”

“It’s different,” Alec contended.

“If you say so.”

Alec found himself dozing off again. The sun had long since set. Even if he went back to the Institute, he would not be getting any work done tonight. Beside him, the warlock’s breathing deepened.

“Magnus?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Angel?” came Magnus’ sleepy response.

“Is it too soon for me to stay over two nights in a row?”

“No,” Magnus answered, still half asleep. “But you can only stay if you use that sexy nephilim strength to carry me to bed.”

Alec smiled, covering Magnus’ face with kisses. “I can do that.”

Chapter Text

Magnus watched as Alec waited with his hands clasped behind his back, facing the front door of the Institute. The shadowhunter still wore his white suit from Jocelyn’s funeral that morning, and it looked devastatingly handsome on him, standing grim and sober as he tapped an anxious finger against his wrist. Every once in awhile, he paused his tapping to roll the onyx bracelets on and off over his hand, smiling slightly when the enchantments on them broke and reformed. Magnus realized he was listening to the muted sounds of the magic activating, and his heart skipped a beat. All the same, Alec’s twitchiness was making Magnus jumpy. The warlock covered Alec’s hand with his, stilling the nervous fidgeting, then leaned forward and murmured, “Relax, mon ange . You’re going to be fine.”

Alec turned his head slightly to the side, toward where Magnus’ voice drifted over his shoulder. “You heard that phone call yesterday,” Alec grumbled back. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up locked away in the damned Gard.” All the same, his jitters ceased, his tension relaxing under the soft warmth of Magnus’ touch, though the set of his jaw remained strained.

Magnus squeezed his hand. “Are you sure you want me here?” he asked hesitantly. “I understand if you’d rather I made myself scarce.” Magnus was not usually one to back down in the face of the Clave’s mindless dogmatism, but he cared about Alexander. And Alexander cared about his standing within the Clave. He could swallow a tiny bit of pride for his sake. At that suggestion Alec turned around entirely, his focus shifting to the warlock. His expression grew resolved, their fingers laced warmly together.

“Magnus, you have every right to be here. This was your investigation as much as mine.” Magnus’ heart leapt. He could not help but think of how far Alec had come in only the past several weeks—standing in the middle of the Institute, in the middle of the day, holding Magnus’ hands in front of all of his subordinates. Only the month before, he doubted he would have been invited at all, all communication dropped the moment he exhausted his usefulness in capturing the Clave’s new prisoner. Now he stood by Alec’s side, preparing to face the Inquisitor—and Alec’s mother. He was not sure which intimidated him more.

Before Magnus could respond, a portal swirled into existence over the Institute’s entryway. Maryse Lightwood emerged in a flurry of hurried footsteps, followed closely by Inquisitor Herondale and tailed by a short, orderly procession of nephilim guards. Alec jumped to attention, all of the rigidity from earlier returning to his pose as he clasped his hands tightly behind his back once more.

“Alec,” Maryse greeted tersely. Her eyes flicked over Magnus behind him, and her lips pressed together disapprovingly. With her long, tight braid and her angry scowl, she looked every bit the stereotype of Shadowhunters that Magnus had become accustomed to over his centuries. “What is that warlock doing here?”

Alec’s shoulders stiffened. Magnus resisted informing her that such a grumpy expression would give her premature wrinkles—nephilim rarely lived long enough to get wrinkles anyways. They loved dying honorable deaths in combat in their early thirties—just old enough to have fulfilled their duties of perpetuating the nephilim bloodline with a few young children. “He was our primary consultant on the case,” Alec answered. “He has every right to be here for the transfer.”

With some satisfaction, Magnus noted that they stood near almost the exact spot where he and Alec shared their first kiss. “Good morning to you as well, Maryse,” he said cheerily.

“Alexander Lightwood,” the Inquisitor adjured, stepping forward. Though she spoke at a normal volume, her voice carried across the room with an air of undeniable authority. She looked to be in her early sixties—ancient by Shadowhunter standards. The busy nephilim that buzzed around the room like worker bees all quieted. Even Magnus stepped back respectfully. He wanted to place a reassuring hand on Alec’s arm, to remind him he was there, but he knew that in this moment it would only make things worse for him. Imogen Herondale paused, as if she were deciding something. Her even gaze moved to Magnus, who felt all of a sudden very small, and then back to Alec, who stood tall and unmoving, his face a stony, expressionless mask. “Take me to the prisoner,” she said finally.

Alec turned immediately toward the elevator, leading them wordlessly toward the sub-levels where Magnus had only been allowed on that one previous occasion. The ride down was silent, the air heavy with unspoken words and uncertainty. Once again Magnus resisted opening his mouth, tempted to crack a one-liner that would make everyone as unbearably uncomfortable as he was. And once again, for Alec’s sake, he kept his lips tightly sealed.

Alec had told Magnus about the difference in Melusine’s demeanor since the demon vacated her body, but seeing it for himself still sent a shock through him. When they approached her cell, she was lying on the floor staring blankly at the ceiling, her short hair scattered around her face in a messy, matted halo. The grating echo of metal on metal indicated the cell door unlocking, at which Melusine sat up cross-legged, glowering toward it warily.

“She doesn’t look like herself,” Magnus commented quietly.

“I told you,” Alec murmured back, his eyes still trained forward on the glass, “I don’t think the demon was Valentine’s. Not at first. Something’s not right about it.”

Alec had explained this, too. He had a wild theory—some absurd idea that Melusine had been possessed before she met Valentine. That Valentine had not summoned the demon to possess her, but sought her out knowing she was already carrying it. It made no sense to Magnus. How else would Melusine have been possessed? And when? He had taught her better than that—no demon should ever have been able to catch her unawares.

The guard freed Melusine from her chains, binding her wrists in heavy shackles that dwarfed her slender arms. She marched ahead of him out the door without resistance, eyes wide and afraid. When she emerged to see the small party that awaited her, her eyes found Magnus’ immediately, standing against the wall beside Alec. Imogen and Maryse stood in the center of the hallway, the remaining three guards by their sides.

“Magnus?” Melusine whispered, so quietly she might have only been mouthing his name. Her attention was stolen quickly by the Inquisitor’s commanding voice.

“Melusine…” Imogen trailed off, eyes scanning a document in her hand. “Do you have a surname, Melusine?”

The girl’s eyes darted once more to Magnus. He struggled to maintain his cold, neutral expression, to betray nothing. He refused to give her that satisfaction. Her gaze fell to the floor. “No,” she said quietly, to his surprise. “I have none.” The metal encircling her wrists clinked softly together. She was shaking. Guilt squirmed in the pit of Magnus’ stomach, nauseating and hot. What had she—the real Melusine—really done, and how much had been the demon? Was she at fault at all? For how long would she rot in the Silent City?

Alec shared the thought. He stepped forward, his index finger once again tapping worriedly against his wrist behind his back. “Inquisitor Herondale,” he addressed.

“What is it, Mr. Lightwood?” Imogen replied impatiently.

“We have reason to believe that Melusine herself was not responsible for the murders,” Alec stated dispassionately. Magnus had almost forgotten how good Alec was at playing that role. It was how he had first seen him—a cold-blooded nephilim soldier, detached and aloof, yet frighteningly beautiful. “As you are aware, she carried a demon with her into the Institute. It subsequently released her, and was dispatched. It is likely that all of the connected murders were at the hands of the demon possessing her, and not Melusine herself.”

Melusine stared at Alec in surprise. He did not spare her even a momentary glance, focusing completely on the Inquisitor. Beside Inquisitor Herondale, Maryse glared at her son, stern and furious. But beneath her frosty, bitter mask, Magnus swore he saw a hint of something else—fear. It clicked then. Maryse was not angry with Alec for speaking out, or for his identity. She was terrified for him. Magnus’ heart broke for her. And then, wondering at what could possibly frighten the unbreakable Maryse Lightwood so intensely, he began to fear for Alec as well. His hands tightened to anxious fists at his sides.

“Mr. Lightwood,” Imogen remarked sharply. “After that stunt you pulled yesterday, I am shocked you would dare to mention the topic at all.” Magnus had not thought that Alec could stand any straighter. He was wrong. Behind his back, Alec’s nervous tapping froze, his fingers gripping his wrists so tightly that his knuckles bleached white. The Inquisitor’s attention slid pointedly to Magnus, who met her scowl with one of his own.

“Madam Inquisitor,” Maryse interceded, formal and reverent. “What my son means is—”

“I know what he means,” the Inquisitor interrupted, her eyes flicking back to Alec. “Mr. Lightwood seems to think he has made a mistake in turning this warlock over to Clave custody. It would be only one of many mistakes he has made as of late.” Alec’s lips pressed into a thin line. Magnus could see he was struggling to hold his tongue. “Perhaps his recent affiliations with warlocks has fostered an impartial sympathy for their kind.” Magnus bristled, but the Inquisitor continued. “What would you have me do, Mr. Lightwood? Would you have me release this prisoner, by whose hands dozens of lives—mundane and Downworlder alike—were snuffed out?”

Her words came slowly and deliberately. Everything she said presented itself like a rehearsed speech before a battle, as if she knew everyone in her presence would stop and listen while she spoke. The veiled threat in her tone was clear. There was no correct answer to her question.

“No, Madam Inquisitor,” Alec answered shortly, reeling back his frustration.

“Then what, Mr. Lightwood? You said the demon was dealt with. Should we summon it from Edom and send it to the prisons?”

“No, Madam Inquisitor.”

“Then I suggest you hold your tongue. Your blatant disrespect for the law and lack of control over this Institute has already resulted in both the Mortal Cup and the Soul Sword falling into the hands of Valentine Morgenstern. One might begin to question whether your loyalties lie with the Clave, or… elsewhere.”

Magnus could not hold his tongue any longer. “The loss of the Soul Sword was the failure of the Clave,” he seethed. “Alexander wasn’t even there.”

“No,” Imogen agreed coldly, her glare shooting daggers in Magnus’ direction. “He was not. In fact, if I recall correctly, he was otherwise occupied with the murder of one of his own kind, at the command of one of yours. A notable point when all things are considered, wouldn’t you say, High Warlock?”

Magnus stopped short, regretting saying anything at all. Beside him, Alec stared at the concrete wall directly across from him, an impassive statue. Magnus had only made things worse. “That hardly seems fair,” the warlock replied softly.

“I’m sure Jocelyn Fairchild would agree,” the Inquisitor said. “Too bad she is no longer with us to offer her opinion on the matter.” Silence fell upon the dim hallway, suffocating and thick. Maryse stared in Magnus’ direction, but her sharp, glittering eyes seemed to look through him rather than at him, lost in her own internal frenzy of horror at the conversation that had just transpired. Magnus understood now why Alec had initially been so hesitant to acknowledge their relationship. It was not about shame—it was about self-preservation.

“If no one else has any unbidden suggestions to offer, the Clave will now take the prisoner Melusine into custody.” The Inquisitor paused, her gaze falling back to Alec. “The warlock Melusine will be transferred to the Gard, rather than the Silent City. Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Lightwood?”

Alec responded almost robotically. “As the Clave commands, Madam Inquisitor.”

They rode the elevator up in silence, aside from the quiet sniffling of Melusine—who upon realizing that no one was going to put a stop to her transfer after all, had begun to cry.

As the entourage approached the portal that still stretched across the entrance of the Institute, Imogen paused one last time. “You will be receiving correspondence shortly regarding your tenure here at the New York Institute,” she informed Alec. “Be prepared to pick up your life and move it to Alicante, should that be what the Clave decides.” She spared Magnus one last, dismissive glance, and then the entire procession followed her through the gleaming surface of the portal and back to Idris—save for Maryse.

Alec’s mother hesitated, her back to the portal, watching her son longingly. Magnus realized that her pinched, constantly uptight expression might be covering up a monumental effort to keep herself from crying. Her pose mirrored her son’s, tense and formal, her hands clasped behind her back like a bodyguard or a soldier.

“Alec,” she began.

“Enough,” Alec choked out, his composure wavering. He refused to meet his mother’s eyes. “I don’t need to hear the same scolding twice. The Inquisitor’s was enough. I know where I stand.” With a choppy and faltering deliberacy that contrasted sharply with his usual lithe grace, Alec spun on his heel and strode away. Maryse waited there a moment longer, staring after him as if he might turn around. When it became apparent that Alec was gone, her attention turned to Magnus. She looked as if she might be about to say something. Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. She spun on her heel with the same tortured brokenness her son had and disappeared into the portal. It spun closed behind her, leaving Magnus standing alone at the entrance of the Institute.

He found Alec in his office, feet propped up on his desk in the most disrespectful display that Magnus had ever witnessed from him within the Institute. His hands rested folded in his lap, his head tilted back so he could stare at the ceiling. His expression reminded Magnus of Melusine’s only minutes before—trapped, hopeless, and afraid.

“Alexander?” Magnus questioned.

Alec’s eyes found his, and when they did, they softened. The same fear hid behind them that Magnus had seen in Maryse—that glassy sheen that told him Alec had been fighting back tears. Mother and son were more similar than they would ever know. Alec slid his feet off of the desk, stepping over to where Magnus hovered just inside the doorway. He reached over Magnus’ shoulder and slammed the door shut behind him, aggressive enough that it bordered on a palm strike, echoing loudly in the quiet room.

“Magnus,” Alec answered, his lean frame towering over the warlock. Magnus tilted his head upward, and it was all the permission Alec needed. He kissed him, hard and needy, venting the sadness and hurt and frustration of the day. When they broke for air, Magnus pressed his lips against Alec’s cheek. It was wet, and salty, and Alec held him tighter and kissed him again, softer this time. When Alec pulled back, he rested his forehead against Magnus’. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologize,” Magnus answered. He swept a thumb across Alec’s cheeks and wrapped him in a tight, warm hug. I love you, he wanted to say. But he wondered if it was the right time for it. Instead, he said “I’m here for you.” Alec nodded, his whole body relaxing as he surrendered to the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Magnus’ back and squeezed him tightly in return.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Pale moonlight diffused through Alec’s fabric window shades. He sprawled restlessly in his plain, bare-bones queen bed, wide awake despite the late hour. After Jocelyn’s funeral and Melusine’s transfer, he spent the remainder of the day fulfilling his duties as Head of the Institute, organizing missions and sending off reports. He had returned from leading a field mission himself only a few hours before—a responsibility he no longer had to perform now that he ran the entire Institute, but one he continued with all the same. It never felt right to send his subordinates on missions if he was not willing to go on them himself. All of his muscles ached, stiff and sore even after the healing effects of a few extra iratzes . He had probably broken a few ribs. It had been a particularly challenging night, and Alec spent most of it distracted, thoughts lingering on recent events, circling around everything he had heard and said. Despite his exhaustion, Alec’s eyes remained open, unable to attain the restful, dreamless slumber he so direly needed.

Alec found himself reaching for his phone on the nightstand, eyes burning from the cool brightness of the screen as it illuminated his room. The tapping vibrations of the on-screen keyboard scattered the shadowed silence. He sent off a message, then saw the time and immediately regretted it.

Alec Lightwood - 03:35

[Alec Lightwood deleted a message.]

To his surprise, three little dots leapt across the screen, indicating that Magnus had not only seen the message, but was responding.

Magnus Bane - 03:36

This again?? You can’t do this to me. Especially not at this hour. 😘

Alec Lightwood - 03:36

Sorry.

I sent it before seeing the time, then figured you were asleep.

Magnus Bane - 03:37

Well, I’m not. What’s on your mind, mon ange ?

Alec paused, realizing he had never seen Magnus’ nickname for him spelled out before. He had been educated in basic Latin when learning runes, but French still baffled him. He had not expected it to be spelled so… simply. It always sounded like liquid honey dripping off of Magnus’ tongue—some mysterious, magical utterance. Or perhaps that was just the exhaustion playing games with his mind, tugging tiredly on the corners of Alec’s consciousness.

Alec Lightwood - 03:38

It’s nothing.

It was dumb.

Magnus Bane - 03:38

Now you’re just dragging out the inevitable.

SPILL.

Alec Lightwood - 03:39

It’s really stupid though.

Magnus Bane - 03:39

Good.

I love it when you say things that you think are stupid.

They’re my favorite things.

Well… some of my favorite things. 💖

Alec Lightwood - 03:40

Did I wake you up?

If so, I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to.

Magnus Bane - 03:40

ALEXANDER.

STOP DEFLECTING.

WHAT

WAS

THE 

THING.

Alec Lightwood - 03:41

fine.

It’s just.

Alec took a deep breath, dragging a hand across his face before typing out the gist of his earlier message before he could convince himself not to.

Alec Lightwood - 03:41

Listen it’s really stupid. And a little bit much so I’m sorry.

But.

I was thinking about how I can’t sleep.

And

… I don’t want to wake up alone.

Alec’s heart hammered in his chest. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, worrying he had overstepped, or come across as clingy and needy. But almost the entire day had been awful, and all he wanted was to curl up against his boyfriend and hold him tight.

Alec Lightwood - 03:41

I know I was just there this morning. I don’t expect anything.

I guess

I just miss you.

Already.

Somehow.

Sorry.

Magnus Bane - 03:42

Don’t apologize, angel.

There’s an easy solution to this...

Alec’s heart rate settled. He should have known Magnus would remain unfazed by his neediness. The warlock had never treated him with anything but kindness and compassion. It meant so much to him to see Magnus already jumping to the rescue, brainstorming a way to help Alec feel less alone. He wondered what his warlock had in mind, expecting a video call or an offer to stay up with him over text. When the response finally came, Alec’s heart leapt to his throat.

Magnus Bane - 03:42

Come back.

The familiar phrase sent his pulse into a stuttering mess. He was 100% sure Magnus did it on purpose.

Alec Lightwood - 03:43

At this hour?

I wouldn’t get there until almost 5.

And I’ve already stayed over the past two nights.

Don’t you have places to be in the morning?

Magnus Bane - 03:43

Alexander.

I miss you too.

And I haven’t been able to sleep either.

Please come be with me.

Alec Lightwood - 03:44

Are you sure?

In lieu of a response, a sparkling golden portal opened up in Alec’s bedroom. Alec startled, caught off guard by the sudden brightness and noise. I guess I’ll get there before five after all.

Alec Lightwood - 03:44

Ok, message received! Let me throw some clothes on.

Magnus Bane - 03:45

Oh, please, Alexander. I think we’re past that.

Just wear whatever you’re in.

Less is more ;)

Alec blushed, his cheeks warm against the cool, dark air of his bedroom. He wore only a soft set of sweatpants and the pair of white fuzzy socks that Magnus had given him several weeks before, after the first time they had smoked together. Ever obedient, he abandoned any attempt to further dress himself. He threw his sheets off, pocketed his phone, and stepped through the portal.

The bare skin of Alec’s chest was met with a frigid wall of icy air. He emerged on Magnus’ rooftop balcony, in front of the outdoor sofa where the warlock himself sat buried under a pile of very cozy-looking blankets. In one hand he held Alec’s witchlight, turning it over and over in his fingers like a nervous tick, crimson glow casting long shadows across his profile. Chairman Meow rested atop of him, legs in the air as Magnus stroked his tummy. At Alec’s arrival, the cat jumped around to his feet, examining the Shadowhunter warily.

“Mr. Chairman,” Alec greeted, holding his hand out to the cautious feline. After a few seconds of sniffing, the cat relaxed once more, resting his chin on Magnus’ leg. “Glad to see we’re still friends.” Alec shivered, pulling his hand back to rub it against his bare arms. “It’s freezing out here! How are you comfortable?”

“Come,” Magnus beckoned, patting the sofa beside him. “Sit.” Alec did as he was told, snuggling in under the blankets that the warlock held open for him. Underneath the fluffy pile, Magnus was dressed much like he was, in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a set of white fuzzy socks that matched Alec’s. Alec smiled when he saw them. With the blankets settled over him, a heavenly bubble of warmth enveloped his body. He assumed at least a little bit of magic had to be involved—it was below freezing outside.

“Wow,” he murmured, turning to his side to better mold himself against Magnus’ body. “This is really nice.” Chairman Meow protested at being jostled, standing up and circling around to drape himself across all four of their legs. Alec sighed contentedly, pleased by the comforting weight of them both pressing into him.

“So,” Magnus started, wrapping his arms around the Shadowhunter. “As much as I’d like to think you just miss me, I seriously doubt that would have prompted such a late night text. What’s on your mind, mon ange ?”

Alec shrugged. “I just couldn’t sleep.” The words came out as a mumble, muffled by Magnus’ skin as he nuzzled into him. His cloud of stress and tension had already begun to dissipate, melted away by the warmth of Magnus’ proximity.

“Fine,” Magnus acquiesced, his voice quiet in the still night. “I’ll go first.” Thick cloud cover drifted over them, masking the moon and leaving the world black and hushed. They were in their own little bubble of darkened silence, illuminated only by the cinder-glow of the witchlight in Magnus’ hand. “It’s strange, now that Melusine is gone, and the investigation officially closed. I don’t know how I feel about it—whether she was guilty at all, how long she carried that demon with her. Months? Years?” He shook his head. “I know we still have Valentine to seek out, but my responsibility there lies with the warlocks, not the Institute. As glad as I am that this investigation is closed, I’m going to miss having an excuse to see you every day.”

Alec buried his face into the space where Magnus’ neck met his shoulder, relishing his closeness, his warmth, his smell. A lump of emotion swelled in his throat. He fought back against it valiantly, refusing to cry for a second time that day. “I’m afraid that soon I won’t be able to see you at all,” he admitted softly. “You heard what the Inquisitor said. They want to send me to Alicante.”

Magnus sighed, nodding. “The one place in the world where I can’t portal to on a whim. The one place where we would truly be apart.”

“That’s deliberate,” Alec mumbled. He squeezed Magnus more tightly. He could not bear the thought of losing him.

“I’ll miss you so much if they make you go,” Magnus confessed. Beneath the blankets, his free hand found Alec’s, lacing their fingers together. Chairman Meow let out a sleepy chirp, annoyed that he was once again disturbed my Magnus’ shifting. With a grumpy shake, the cat hopped down off of the sofa and trotted away.

Alec watched him go, an entirely unexpected realization dawning on him. “No, you won’t,” he said firmly. He sat up, facing Magnus so he could stare into his boyfriend’s beautiful, shining feline eyes. “I won’t go.”

“Alexander—”

“Don’t argue, Magnus. Please. I’m not leaving New York. I’m not letting the Clave take away the one person in my life who makes me happy. We deserve this much.” The blanket had fallen away when he sat up, baring his chest to the freezing air. Goosebumps trailed over his skin.

His words hung unanswered, Magnus’ brows knit together in worried contemplation. The warlock’s eyes shimmered, bright and sharp in the darkness. Finally Magnus spoke, his tone soft and thick with emotion. “I really mean that much to you?” He tugged Alec back toward him, wrapping the blankets protectively around the Shadowhunter’s shoulders. Even that tiny gesture made Alec’s heart sing.

“Yes,” Alec breathed, without hesitation. He leaned his head against the warlock’s, closing his eyes and basking in the nearness of him. He could fall asleep right now, content and at peace. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to drag this moment out, make it last forever. He never wanted to move.

“You’d go against the Clave… for me?” Magnus repeated faintly, as if he could not believe the words. “You? Alexander Gideon Lightwood?” Their hot breath curled visibly between them, translucent clouds, stained pink by the fiery, ember glow of the adamas stone.

“In an instant,” Alec confirmed, staid and quiet. He ran his fingers down Magnus’ arm, enveloping the hand that still clutched his witchlight. The runestone flickered, as if it could not decide whether it should illuminate red or white. Then Alec kissed Magnus, their bodies melting into each other, and it flared between a hundred shades of blue, and rose, and green, a brilliant rainbow in a world otherwise devoid of light.

The kiss was soft and gentle, a brush of their lips together. Alec gasped when the colors flashed around them, then took Magnus’ lower lip gingerly between his, tugging on it softly without biting. A million desires burned through his mind. He wanted to hold him, and touch him, and breathe him in, and taste him, and embrace him, and never let him go. When Magnus’ fingers traced across his skin, they ignited a fiery trail of need , stronger than he had ever felt before—a sensation that made his heart stutter and his breath catch. Magnus seemed to sense the strength of Alec’s emotions in the way he kissed him, the way his touch traveled his body as if to memorize every centimeter of his shape. The warlock exhaled, his own breath shaky and unsteady.

When Alec pulled away, the witchlight’s brilliant display faded, twinkling cerulean and gold between their joined hands. It made him think of Magnus’ magic, and his beautiful, auric eyes.

This is the moment , Alec realized. His heart overflowed with terror and excitement and hope, skipping and lurching. Before he could stutter out the words, Magnus inhaled sharply, staring at the witchlight, and then at Alec, eyes brimming with the same staggering succession of emotions that Alec felt.

“I love you,” Magnus blurted out, as if he had been holding in the words for a very long time and could no longer bear to. He lifted his hand from Alec’s grasp and rested it on his cheek, fingers shaking. “You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s very soon for that. But I can’t help it. I love you so much, and I need you to know in case you leave and you never come back. Alexander, I love you.” His voice cracked at the last syllable. Alec’s pulse raced in his ears. He realized that he was staring, leaving Magnus hanging with no response.

“You… you stole my line,” he finally managed.

Magnus seemed taken aback. He had somehow ended up on Alec’s lap, and Alec wrapped his arms around the warlock’s waist. “What?” Magnus asked, staring back at him, baffled. “Stole what?”

“I love you,” Alec answered, breathy and quiet as he leaned in close, his nose brushing Magnus’. Magnus hesitated, like he could not figure out if Alec meant it or was just repeating his earlier words. “I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Alec added, holding him tightly, “but I haven’t known how. Magnus, I love you too. And I’m not going anywhere. They’ll have to drag me to Alicante kicking and screaming.”

“They just might,” the warlock noted. His voice came thicker, and Alec realized he was crying. He brushed away the stray tears with his thumb, kissing Magnus’ wet cheeks before they got too cold.

“I challenge them to try. I’ve got the almighty Magnus Bane on my side.” Alec closed the few millimeters between them, needing Magnus’ lips on his, their cheeks brushing, their foreheads leaning together. He squeezed Magnus so tightly that the warlock gasped and giggled, and they fell over across the sofa, limbs wrapping around each other, skin on skin. Alec closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, determined to remember this moment forever. His entire body felt fuzzy and warm, alive with love and joy and dreams of the future.

“That was the second thing, you know,” Alec mumbled into Magnus’ hair.

“What thing?” Magnus asked, sniffing away the last of his tears. He was face down against Alec’s chest, almost completely buried under the blankets. Only the topmost tips of his hair poked out. He looked so cozy and adorable, Alec couldn’t help but shower the top of his head with kisses before explaining.

“What I was going to say, when I had the Fearless rune. I wanted to tell you that I love you. I’ve wanted to tell you since Michigan.”

“Michigan… ?” Magnus trailed off. Then he redoubled his efforts to squeeze Alec so tightly he thought his ribs might cave in. “Oh, Alexander. I wish I’d known.” Alec sank into the embrace. His eyelids hung heavy, and he worried he might fall asleep like this, on the freezing rooftop, warmed by his warlock and an absurdly excessive number of fluffy blankets. He decided that perhaps this outcome would not be too bad. Maybe the cat would eventually rejoin them, too. Finally, he gave in, surrendering to the halcyon hush of sleep.

The snuggly aura of warmth around them broke when a single, icy sensation chilled Alec’s cheek, melting instantly into cold wetness. His eyes fluttered open.

Fat, heavy snowflakes drifted down around them. “Magnus,” he whispered. The warlock’s head remained half-buried under the blankets, almost completely shielded from the frosty, fluttering flecks.

Sleepily, Magnus lifted his head up, then blinked himself awake when he observed his surroundings. “It’s snowing,” he murmured, looking around in awe. Alec nodded, his chin and nose tickled against the warlock’s hair. He found Magnus’ ear with his lips, brushing a gentle kiss against it. The entire city seemed to hold its breath around them, every sound muted and distant, muffled by the falling flakes.

“Why don’t we go inside,” Alec murmured against a cold earring. “I’ll make you hot cocoa.”

“I can summon some,” Magnus suggested, gripping Alec’s waist possessively.

“But I want to make it for you.” Alec tenderly pried himself free. “It’s the first snowfall of the year. Let me celebrate it with you. I want to remember it forever.”

Magnus sat back, examining Alec’s expression. Then he smiled. It was warm and soft and everything Alec ever needed. “Okay,” Magnus answered, seeing the excitement in the Shadowhunter’s eyes. “Let’s go inside.” Before Magnus could stand, Alec scooped him up, blankets and all, in one big bundle. Magnus yelped, wrapping his arms around Alec’s neck. Snowflakes clung to their hair and eyelashes, dusting them in fluffy white specks.

Alec placed him on the sofa in the living room and got to work, warning him with a stern stare not to move. He gathered all of the ingredients from around the kitchen—creamy almond milk, dark cocoa, a dash of cinnamon—and melted them together in a pan, finishing his creation off with oversized marshmallows and a hint of nutmeg. When he emerged, he stepped quietly back into the main living area to discover it had been slightly rearranged, a grey-stone fireplace dividing the glass wall between the balcony doors, roaring with flames. Alec stopped, taking in the cozy scene before him.

“I didn’t move,” Magnus pointed out hopefully. “Do you like it?” Alec’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, wondering if the warlock had read his mind. He scurried the rest of the way to the couch, setting the steaming mugs on the coffee table and settling down in the center of the cushions, pulling Magnus’ legs over his lap. Magnus beamed back, reaching for a mug.

“Have I told you yet today that I love you?” he asked. The firelight danced off of his eyes.

“Not so much that I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Alec grinned. Those three words took his breath away. He would never get tired of hearing them. He couldn’t fathom how someone as perfect, and beautiful, and incredible as Magnus Bane could love him. His heart felt like it would burst. He knew that in this moment, he could die a happy man.

“Alexander Lightwood, I've fallen hopelessly in love with you,” Magnus reiterated, blushing shyly into his cocoa. Alec did not often get to see Magnus blush. He loved it. He loved everything about him.

“I love you too,” Alec repeated. “Gods I’ve waited so long to say that. I love you, Magnus.” He warmed his hands on the steaming mug, relishing the weight of Magnus’ legs over his, and the view of the snowfall accumulating outside the windows behind the crackling flames. This moment was everything he had ever hoped it to be, and more.

“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we,” Magnus said, sipping delicately. It was a statement, not a question. Alec squeezed one of the legs that draped across his lap, watching with satisfaction as the warlock closed his eyes contentedly, savoring the treat. He wanted that cozy happiness for him forever. One warm hand found his, weaving their fingers together.

Outside, the sky brightened to a muted, smoky lavender, subdued by snow clouds and silence. Alec checked the time. Discounting his brief nap on the roof, he had been awake for almost twenty-seven hours.

“We’re going to be okay,” he agreed through a yawn. He set down his mug and he leaned over, pressing his face against the warlock’s chest, and listened to his heartbeat—steady and slow, perhaps the steadiest thing in his life. Despite all of the exhaustion and trepidation, the Clave, and Melusine, and his own mess of a family, he believed it. No matter what happened, they would be just fine—as long as they had each other.

Alec had been told a long time ago that nephilim only loved once. If that was true, Alec knew he had found his. He had never been more certain of anything in his life.

He drifted off to sleep to the rhythm of his warlock’s heart.