Archive of Our Own

"Well, you have my undivided attention now, darling." Magnus fluttered his eyelashes at her, resting his chin on a palm. "Anyway, you really should have led with that bit of information, instead of all that boring stuff about missions and objectives."

Catarina shot him an unimpressed look. "As I was saying," she said with forced patience, "we've had some intel that the High Warlock of Brooklyn is holding a party at his lair tonight, at midnight. Since Raphael managed to bully a vampire into handing over an invitation at the club last night, this is our best chance to speak with the warlock and find out if he can help Simon retrieve his memories."

"Tonight? That's barely four hours left for me to get my hair and make-up done, and I can't possibly be wearing this to a downworld rave!" Magnus yelped, leaping out of his seat. He was halfway across the command centre before Catarina could even say another word, presumably headed to his room to get ready for the party.

"By the Angel," Catarina growled, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple. She could feel a headache coming on; trying to get Magnus, Raphael and Ragnor to work together for a mission was like herding cats. "He is going to be the death of me."

"So... we're still going, right?" Simon asked nervously. He glanced at Raphael for assurance, but Raphael was twirling his stele like a baton, looking bored and supremely disinterested in the whole thing.

Simon wondered why this was his life now. Three days ago, he had been a normal boy, just hanging out with his best friend Clary at the all-ages club Pandemonium. Then he had seen a group of people nobody else could see, seen them stab another person with a glowing blade, and then watched in disbelief as the body vanished into thin air. 

It had all gone down hill from there.  

Simon had gone home to find his home ransacked and his mother gone. Worse, there had been something lying in wait for him - some sort of monster that had looked like a cross between an alligator and a centipede, and the thing had spoken to him, muttering something about a cup. He had thrown a couple of things at it to slow it down, but in the end it had been Raphael who had swooped in to save him like a knight in shining armour, but not before the monster had got him with its stinger. He had spent three days in a delirious haze of pain, and woken up in what his new "friends" called the New York Institute - some sort of regional headquarters for demon hunters. And then he'd been told that apparently he was one of them, something called a Shadowhunter, because Raphael had had to put some weird tattoo on him to stop him from bleeding out. They had called in some creepy-ass dude with his eyes and mouth sewn up to prod at his mind, and he had been told that he couldn't remember anything because someone had put a magical block on his mind - someone called Alec Lightwood, who had also put his damned signature on his spellwork, and who just happened to be the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

Now the plan was to corner the powerful warlock in his own home and demand that he undo his spellwork on Simon's mind so they could even begin to figure out how to save his mother. Obviously this was the kind of plan where everything that could possibly go wrong would go wrong.

And now, for someone who had stalked him home from a club, saved his ass, and then practically dragged him into what was apparently an abandoned church outfitted with tech that put Star Trek to shame, Raphael was behaving as if Simon was something nasty he had accidentally stepped in.

"Don't worry, Simon," Catarina said, smiling warmly at him. "I know you're worried about your mother. We'll work on getting your memories back first, and take it from there. One step at a time, ok?" 

"Yeah, one step at a time, sounds good," Simon agreed. "Except that apparently I've already been unconscious for three days while your creepy monk-doctor guy poked at me, so my mother has been missing for three whole days, and I just spoke to Clary on the phone and Clary says the police came by but someone came back and bleached the the whole apartment or something so they don't have a single clue to go on and Clary is freaking out, I can't seem to get Rebecca on the phone, and I don't want to sound ungrateful, but-"

"Dios, do you never shut up?" Raphael exploded. 

"You're the one who brought him here," Ragnor snickered, his nose in a novel.

Raphael glared at Ragnor and stood up. "I'm sorry, Catarina, but if we're done here, I wanted to get some training in."

"Sure," Catarina muttered tiredly as Raphael stalked off. "It's not like I didn't just waste half an hour of my life on a briefing nobody was even listening to." 

Simon adjusted his glasses nervously. "I was listening," he offered timidly. Catarina gave him a small smile. 

"I assure you, I was listening as well," Ragnor declared, carefully slotting a bookmark in his book.

"Did I do something to piss Raphael off?" Simon asked. "It's just that... well... he hasn't really been very friendly."

"Oh, don't worry about Raphael, it's just his natural sunny disposition," Ragnor said with a grin. "He feels a bit responsible for you, but he hates people on principle - it's a constant struggle." He patted Simon on his shoulder and strolled off. Catarina sighed and began gathering up stray pencils and note paper.

"Why don't you go get some rest?" Catarina said kindly as she picked up after the three boys. "Demon venom is hard on the body, and you don't have any runes yet. We've got a long night ahead."

"I... ok. Thanks," Simon said. "Um... I don't have anything to wear to this party though."

"Go to Magnus - he'll be happy to help," Catarina said, then grimaced. "On second thought, you might not want his help."

Simon laughed nervously at that and jogged off to find Magnus.

Simon's first impression of Magnus' room was that a rainbow glitter bomb had gone off. Every available surface was covered with clothing - and most of them featured sequins, glitter, shiny thread, or all of the above.

Magnus, who had flung open the door at Simon's knocking, was staring at Simon like he had never seen him in his life. Simon gulped, feeling rather intimidated by the shadowhunter, who was half a head taller than him and was looming rather threateningly in the doorway. He had on a sheer burgundy shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open to reveal a wide array of necklaces that gleamed against the warm tone of Magnus' skin.

Magnus frowned. "Who are you?" 

"Simon...?"

"Wrong room, my name is Magnus," Magnus said, already closing the door in Simon's face.

"No, no, I mean I'm Simon. Um, I was sitting next to you like, ten minutes ago, when Catarina was talking about the mission tonight?"

"Oh." Magnus blinked. "Sorry, I'm afraid I didn't see you there at all. I was busy doing my nails."

"Yeah, I noticed," Simon muttered. "Sorry to bother you, but I don't really have anything to wear to the party and I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb - I mean, stick out more than I already do, so Catarina said I could probably borrow something from you. But if you're busy, I could just... go."

Magnus had zoned out a bit at Simon's verbal diarrhoea, but stepped back from the doorway and waved Simon in. Simon tried not to step on Magnus' things, which was no easy feat because the carpet was barely visible through the mess of clothes and jewellery. An overladen dresser teetered in one corner of the room, covered with an array of cosmetics. 

"Here," Magnus shoved a pile of things at Simon. "These shrunk in the wash because Raphael was being mean and dumped them in the washing machine when it was his turn to do the laundry, even though I specifically told him not to."

Simon gulped at the glittery fabric in his arms. His eyes darted around the room and back at Magnus. "Thanks. Uh, where do I...?"

Magnus rolled his eyes. He was already shrugging off the shirt he was wearing to try on a different one. "I'm not going to steal your virtue, Sheldon."

"No, I didn't mean that, I just..." Simon said, flustered. He wasn't a prude, he really wasn't. But Magnus was built in a way that was seriously giving his self-esteem a thorough beating. His biceps alone looked like they were thicker than Simon's thighs. 

"Fine. Bathroom's that way," Magnus huffed. Simon escaped.

Two hours later, they were making their way to the Subway, oddly unobtrusive even though the shadowhunters were all heavily tattooed. This was New York on a Friday night, after all. They were mostly dressed in black, and Simon tugged nervously at the hem of the shirt he had borrowed from Magnus - it was a tad too tight, and to his horror he had only just realised that it was slightly see-through. Magnus, on the other hand, was decked out in skin-tight red leather pants, matching shoes, and a black silk waistcoat that Magnus wore without a shirt presumably because it did amazing things for his arms and shoulders. Magnus was wearing a thigh holster with the handle of a weapon Simon didn't recognise peeking out, barely visible.

Simon knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself - he thought of himself as mostly straight, but he wasn't blind.

Magnus smirked at him. "See something you like?"

Simon thought it was unfair that he'd been singled out in his staring. After all, Catarina was Magnus' friend and had probably seen him in more outlandish outfits, and she had been staring at him all evening.

"Magnus, what in heaven's name have you done to your eyes!?" Catarina finally snapped.

"Relax, Catarina. They're just contacts, see?" Magnus popped one out deftly and popped it back in. 

"Cat-eye contacts? Seriously, Magnus?"

"We're going to a warlock's party! I was trying to make an effort!" Magnus protested. "It looks like a warlock mark, see?"

"Oh my god, Magnus, I could kill you right now!"

"I'm not taking them out. Don't even try to convince me," Magnus warned her. "I happen to think they go fantastically with my gold eyeliner."

"Magnus, I know you think you can get away with many things because Consul Shade once called you 'the best shadowhunter of our generation', but one day you're going to piss off someone you can't handle."

"Oh but darling, nobody could ever get pissed off at someone this fabulous," Magnus said with a smirk, striking a pose. Ragnor snorted and stage-whispered, "Wanna bet?"

When they stepped out of the Subway station, Simon was attacked by a blur of red hair that knocked his glasses askew. Raphael's hand immediately dropped to the weapon in his belt, but Ragnor quickly placed a hand on his chest.

"Easy, Raph. It's a mundane," Ragnor said.

"Clary," Simon breathed in a mix of relief and apprehension, hugging his best friend so hard he was worried he might crack a rib. "What are you doing here?" 

"You said you were going to try to get your memories back from that warlock guy. I figured one more person in your corner couldn't hurt."

"No offense, biscuit, but you're all of five feet tall. You're hardly going to send anyone trembling with fear," Magnus said in amusement as he eyed her critically. Clary immediately rounded on him, her expression fierce.

"You'd be surprised," she said savagely.

"Well, I'm not exactly quaking in my stylish yet affordable shoes yet, but I like you." Magnus grinned. "I guess we can keep you around."

"We're not bringing a mundane along to a downworlder's party," Raphael bit out. "It's bad enough having one deadweight, but at least he was born with the blood of the angels in his veins. We're not here to baby sit." 

"Clary... hey, I really appreciate you coming all the way here, but perhaps he has a point, you know," Simon told Clary quietly. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"Don't worry, I'm not stupid," Clary said reassuringly. "I'll stick close to all of you, I promise. I'm not going to touch anything I'm not supposed to, and I'll watch my drink. It's just a party. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Once you've spent a bit more time in our world, you won't ask that question again," Raphael muttered.

"Come along then." Magnus twirled his fingers, taking the lead. "There's a party waiting!"

"We're here on business, not pleasure," Catarina reminded them.

"Yes, yes, it's a serious mission, blah blah. Oh, we should have code names! I’ll say: ‘Blue Squirrel, this is Hot Fox. Mission to be aborted with extreme prejudice," Magnus said, pretending he was speaking into a headpiece. "Ragnor can be 'Green Cabbage', Seamus can be 'Nerd Rat', and his little friend can be 'Red Biscuit'."

"What about Raphael?" Simon couldn't help asking.

"Grumpy Cat?" Magnus tried. Raphael glared. "No, not feeling it? How about 'Sour Puss'?" If looks could kill, the look Raphael gave Magnus would have hammered the nails in the coffin as well.

The directions on the invitation took them to a largely industrial neighbourhood in Brooklyn whose streets were lined with factories and warehouses. Some, Simon could see, had been converted into lofts and galleries.

"Keep up," said an irritable voice in his ear. It was Raphael, who had dropped back to walk beside Simon and Clary. "I don't want to have to keep looking behind me to make sure nothing's happened to you two."

"So don't bother," Simon sniped, suddenly annoyed. Raphael rolled his eyes but stayed beside them.

"Raphael!" Magnus suddenly called out, a mischievous grin on his face. He was pointing at several motorcycles, sleek and silvery, with low-slung black chassis. Oily-looking tubes and pipes slithered up and around them, ropy as veins. They looked alive somehow, and it made Simon feel queasy.

"Vampires," Raphael said, laughing darkly.

"Uh. They look like motorcycles to me," Simon said in confusion.

"These motorcycles have been altered to run on demon energies," Catarina explained. "Vampires use them - it lets them get around fast at night." She was frowning at the three shadowhunter boys. "Don't you dare."

"Dare what?" Magnus asked innocently, putting an arm around her to steer her away. Simon thought he saw Raphael take something out from his jacket pocket. Catarina wasn't fooled - she turned sharply to Raphael, who stepped back from the motorcycles with both hands held up where she could see them.

"Just looking."

They trudged up the steps of the nearest warehouse. There was a name written under the doorbell - 'Lightwood'.

Magnus pressed the buzzer firmly. Then, with a cheeky grin, began to play a tune by pressing the buzzer repeatedly. Catarina quickly grabbed his wrist and glared at him. 

The door flew open, and in it stood the most gorgeous woman Simon had ever seen. Her long dark hair fell in gentle waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing a white dress so tight and so short that it left little to the imagination. Her lips were painted a dark red, and there was a small red stone set in the middle of her forehead, like a third eye.

"Children of the Nephilim," she purred, eyeing all of them. "Well, this is a surprise. Are you sure my brother invited you?" 

Magnus took out the invitation and waved it, smiling winningly. "I have an invitation. And can I just say - your boots are absolutely darling."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she said with a grin. Her gaze lingered on Simon, and she winked at him. "You'd better come on up then."