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Magnus is crouched in a corner of the patio when Alec gets home, barefoot in red brocade and full makeup, peering into the shadows under a potted hydrangea and making kissy noises. A dish of cream rests on the bluestone beside him.
“Don’t be scared,” he’s saying as Alec steps out into the late afternoon sunlight. His voice is soft and coaxing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. You can come out now.”
Alec settles one hip against the door frame and smiles helplessly, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of affection for this man, this immortal being of unspeakable power who can reshape reality with a gesture, currently trying to lure what is probably yet another stray cat out from under his flower bushes with sweet talk and a conjured dish of cream.
“Come on, you can come out now,” Magnus says again, extending one hand. There’s a sudden horrible spitting noise from under the bush, a spray of red sparks, and Magnus jerks out of the way with reflexes that border on superhuman. A few sparks land on a tuft of dead grass, flaring up into a flame. Magnus extinguishes it with an absent flick of blue magic as whatever’s hiding in the bushes makes a noise like a garbage disposal that just gained both sentience and a bad attitude.
Okay. Possibly not a stray cat, then.
“Did you just hiss at me?” Magnus sounds almost comically offended. “Not nice! Not nice at all.”
“Uh, Magnus,” Alec says carefully. “What—”
“Give me just one moment please, Alexander.”
“...Okay.”
“She’s a little nervous,” Magnus adds, like that’s anything even remotely resembling an explanation. And then to whatever is hiding under the bush, “Aren’t you? Yes you are. You poor thing.”
There’s another spray of sparks, followed by a low growl, and Magnus extends his hand again, palm-up, entreating. Alec bites down on a protest. Magnus is an adult--several times over, in fact. He can take care of himself. Just because Alec is having visions of whatever nightmare is hiding under the bushes chomping Magnus’s fingers off, rings and all, doesn’t mean—
“Oh, there you are,” Magnus says, soft and delighted. “Hi, there. Come on, sweetheart, come on out. Come meet Alexander. He’s going to love you.”
Alec opens his mouth to dispute that, then shuts it again as the bush shifts and something that is absolutely, definitely not a cat pokes its muzzle out from under a fat purple head of flowers. It’s sinuous and reptilian, blunt nose and long, snake-like neck covered in scales in shifting shades of red and gold. When it catches sight of him, it opens its mouth and hisses again, displaying tiny needle-sharp teeth, but although Alec rocks back on his heels, no more sparks are forthcoming. Then it ducks out from under the bush entirely to butt its head against Magnus’s knuckles, and Alec blinks.
Because those… are definitely wings.
“Is that a dragon?” he asks stupidly. “What is a dragon doing in our backyard?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alexander,” Magnus says. He extends his hands, spreading his fingers and making a soft clicking noise against his teeth, and the thing that definitely looks like a dragon to Alec butts against him again, then climbs clumsily into the cradle of his broad palms. It’s about the size of a small cat, its long tail looping twice around Magnus’s forearm as it settles like a glittering red-gold bracelet. There’s a wicked-looking barbed spike at the end of it that comes to rest uncomfortably close to the hollow of his wrist, but it seems to have decided against attacking him again. At least for the moment. “Dragons have four legs. This little beauty is a wyvern.”
“Oh, of course,” Alec says, very dryly. “My bad. What is a wyvern doing in our backyard?”
“I imagine she’s lost. Her mother should be around here somewhere; they don’t usually stray very far when they’re hatchlings.”
“So what you’re telling me is, there’s at least one very unhappy adult wyvern wandering around somewhere nearby,” Alec says. “Great.”
“Mm. You’re probably right. I ought to get her back to her parents.” Magnus stands gracefully and crosses the patio, cradling the hatchling against his chest. “I’ll be a little late for dinner, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Alec manages. “I’ll just order something in.”
“Thank you, darling.” He tilts his head up to kiss Alec briefly on the lips, then pulls back when the hatchling starts to growl again. A scatter of red sparks bursts into the air between then, but Magnus twists away before any of them can hit him. “Oh, stop that, you. I’ll be having a stern word with your parents about your manners, don’t think I won’t. I’m sorry, Alexander. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“Sure, no problem,” Alec says faintly. Magnus gives him a sweet, lovely smile, then steps back, shifts the hatchling to free one hand, and spins a portal into being. He steps through it--still barefoot, Alec notices--and it winks out of existence behind him. Alec stands there for several moments, then laughs softly, shakes his head, and steps back inside.