A Series of Completely Not Awkward Encounters
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Returning to the Institute to check on the wards isn’t awkward in the slightest.
Nope. Not at all.
Also, Magnus absolutely cannot feel Lydia Branwell’s reserved eyes on him. And he’s not even remotely reluctant to run into Maryse Lightwood or her husband.
Or, perhaps worst of all, her son.
Who, by the way, still hasn’t called him.
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Alec wouldn’t consider himself exceptionally eloquent, but he can at least rely on his brain being able to string a few words together and have them come out as a cogent, coherent sentence.
So why is it that the mere presence or thought of Magnus Bane can render him incapable of uttering a single sensible word?
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Magnus drops a cheeky wink. “Oh, I’m sure she had her theories, but rather than leave it to chance, I made certain to inform her that you were sprawled out naked on my bed, sleeping the sleep of the well and truly post-coital.”
Alec chokes on spit and his face ignites. “What?” He gawks at Magnus, his eyes watering as he coughs.
Grin broadening, Magnus leans closer, his voice dropping to a timbre that settles somewhere south of Alec’s navel. “Should I have told her the truth?” he purrs. The effect of his tone is so far opposite that of his words that Alec isn’t sure he won’t simply melt down in sheer bewilderment. “Imagine her crushing disappointment if she thought you spent our first date snoring on my couch.”
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