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Alec is pushing pasta around on his plate with his fork, giving noncommittal sighs that are impossible to ignore, and before Magnus can think to ask what’s bothering the other man, Alec looks up, gaze set firmly on his boyfriend.
“I think we should break up.”
Or, his boyfriend on the rocks, quite unlike a drink.
There it is, though. The first thing Magnus feels is relief; he’s always known and thought to himself that he’ll have to leave Alec eventually. A warlock and a mundane—they simply can’t work in a long-term capacity. Alec will continue to age, and Magnus could continuously choose to change his appearance to look older so he could match Alec, but he’s almost certain that that much constant magic, practiced even by the most careful of warlocks who has only recently regained his abilities, will undoubtedly slip up and show through. And Alec, for all he pretends to be air-headed, or at least unconcerned with important matters, isn’t stupid. He would notice eventually.
The second thing Magnus feels is a cold surge of panic that runs through his body. It’s strange, he reasons, how much this inevitable conversation bothers him. The end-result was always going to be the same: he and Alec would have a short-lived if not meaningful love affair, and then Magnus would leave him, perhaps acting a little callously, or worse, cowardly, in the process, but he would spare Alec from a life filled with fear and danger and chaos. Alec, who was already self-assured and established and strong, couldn’t possibly be happy in a relationship with an actual, literal warlock. Such a relationship would inarguably result in a power imbalance, as much as Magnus wishes that it wouldn't.
And Alec Lightwood, though he initially seems flirtatious and forward and free-spirited, is, at his core, routine. He thrives in certainties and keeps lists for everything. Alec has a life measured out in coffee spoons, and a warlock-sized ladle of problems simply isn’t what he needs.
Magnus doesn’t look up from his own food, just opens his mouth to begin to say something, but Alec, sharp-tongued and a little mean, beats him to it.
“You’re hiding something from me, and I don’t know what it is. Maybe you have a secret lover, or—I don’t know, a strip club or a hipster bar. Which, by the way, I would be more than happy to support and run press for it.”
Magnus frowns, the first show of expression he’s offered throughout this dinner.
Alec continues, “I get secrets, Magnus. But I don’t keep secrets from my boyfriend. So here’s your out, so you won't have a boyfriend to keep secrets from.”
The younger man poses the statement as if it’s an opportunity for Magnus to disentangle himself from his relationship, but he knows Alec well enough to know it’s not that—it’s an ultimatum. It’s more like, “Tell me your secret, or I promise I’ll walk.”
And Magnus supposes Alec really would. He’s headstrong like that. He’s willing to spite himself to make a point, and if he has to end an entire relationship to make said point, then he’s probably already got his finger hovering over the relationship status button on his Facebook profile.
When he looks up, Magnus isn’t surprised that Alec’s watching him with that unwavering gaze of his. It’s not necessarily intimidating, Alec’s eyes are far too warm to ever look cruel, but he’s also not backing down. Strangely, it’s only when Alec blinks that Magnus perceives any sort of weakness. He’s human, of course he has to blink, but Alec opens his eyes and averts his gaze for a moment before settling it on Magnus again. He needs that millisecond of a break to recollect himself, and Magnus realizes with a pang of dread that he can’t possibly lose this headstrong, stubborn, annoying, amazing man.
Magnus clears his throat, and Alec commences to drum his fingers against the table.
“Do you really want to break up?”
“I’m open to renegotiate, assuming you tell me about the secret strip club.”
“What—why do you assume it’s a club?” Magnus doesn’t mean to sputter or to sound flustered like he does, but Alec brings that side of him (so do most people, a rude voice in the back of his head reminds him, but that’s irrelevant).
Alec shrugs, momentarily abandoning his frustration. “I don’t know, seems like the kind of thing you wouldn’t want to tell your boyfriend about.”
No, Magnus thinks, the kind of thing you don’t want to tell your boyfriend about is that you’re half-demon and also have magic powers that could level a city block. But, it's reasonable to suppose a strip club might also be a point of contention.
“...I don’t have a strip club.”
“Secret lover?”
“No—” Magnus is affronted, but he quickly steadies himself, though only in expression. His fingers, itching to call magic to themselves to end this entire conversation, find the sleeves of his cardigan and begin tugging at the ends. The fabric is soft and stretchy, exactly the way he likes it, even when Alec always jokes that Magnus looks like a grandpa and sometimes asks if he even has butterscotch candy in the pockets.
One time, Magnus did summon a few of the hard disks to his pockets and pulled one out, earning a surprised but impressed look from Alec. Those were better days.
Those days were...last Tuesday, on soft October nights, so to speak.
With a deep breath, Magnus reaches over in a silly, very mundane attempt to take Alec’s hand, but he only ends up smacking the shaker of Parmesan resting on the table. The jar tilts and falls and ultimately clacks against the wooden finish, the sound startling the two of them for a long, tense moment.
Magnus sheepishly pulls back. “Sorry—“
“...I’m pretty sure it’s not a strip club, then,” Alec mutters to himself, like Magnus' clumsiness is enough to convince him. He gently bites down on his lip, as if he‘s considering so many things at once.
“Why, because I knocked that over?”
Alec’s lip pulls upward in a small, half-forgiving smile. “No, because you clutched at your chest like it scared you.” He seems to be in a marginally better mood, and Magnus thinks it wise not to mention that it did scare him, though it scares him more that Alec’s still thinking of breaking up with him.
Silence fills the space of the room for about two minutes. In that time, Alec takes a few provisional bites of his pasta. It’s lukewarm at best now, and the sauce looks a little watery, but he doesn’t comment on the flavor or the texture. As he chews, he doesn’t break eye contact, a fact which Magnus finds serious in a funny sort of way, and once Alec takes a long sip of his water (not wine, because he doesn’t like to ever get “sloppy drunk” before eight), he brings his napkin to his mouth and finally looks away.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I should probably get going.” The young man drops the cloth on the table and swings his legs to the side to get up.
“Alec—” Magnus begins, and he considers cutting himself off and simply letting Alec leave. It makes the most sense. Sure, he’d feel awful, letting Alec go—especially since Alec’s sure that he’s been lied to in some way (and he has, Magnus scolds himself), but he should. Yes, Magnus knows that this world is safe, or that it should be, but Clary’s emergence reminds the warlock that there’s no guarantee of anything. And even if there were no demons, Magnus is still made of magic, and Alec, in a different universe, would be a Shadowhunter. If all else were the same and hunters were needed to fight demons, Magnus would still be a warlock but Alec couldn't be this carefree, if not particular, person.
He’s happy being a party planner with a tendency to overreact, and Magnus wants to protect that—that innocence. It seems entirely strange that the same Alec Lightwood, who had flagged down every guest in sight during the Alice in Wonderland Institute party just to find where that “weirdly handsome guy with the cute nerd vibe” went, and then proceeded to spam Magnus’ voicemail with messages once he caught sight of the other man’s infomercial on TV just to ask him out on a date, could be innocent, but he is. Alec doesn’t know to be cautious, and even if he turns out to be accepting of who Magnus is (and the chances of that are slim), he’ll have to become hyper-aware of anything if he knows he’s dating a warlock.
For all they've known each other, their relationship has been relatively smooth. Alec doesn't mind that Magnus' job seems more like a hoax wrapped up in peoples' superstitions, but he encourages it all the same. Sometimes, Alec even pretends that he buys into the tarot card readings (or perhaps, he does, deep down), and he's brought in a few middle-aged women he's planned events for so Magnus can give them surface-level readings that only offer vague pieces of advice that said women perceive as the final push to leave their dead-beat husbands or to go back to school and pursue that Master's degree they've always thought about.
But more than that, Alec likes who Magnus is. He appreciates the flamboyant airs Magnus puts on for his clients, and he more than appreciates the fact that Magnus is a devoted cat father to two very needy felines, who had warmed up to the younger man in record timing, and he especially likes the other man's gentleness—whether Magnus knows he has someone's attention or doesn't, he is inherently kind and good-natured. At his core, Magnus tries to be good, and Alec believes that.
It's Magnus' fear that, if everything is out in the open, Alec will stop believing him.
“Oh, come on—” Alec says suddenly, exasperated. “Stop me, tell me not to leave.”
“I—”
“—I’m not taking both sides of this fight.” Now Alec just looks resolute, like he’s planted firmly in his chair and has no intentions of leaving, though he’s been talking about getting out of this room for the last ten minutes.
It’s that ridiculously complicated indecision that makes Magnus want to tell him. With a shock of realization, he knows that he wants to tell Alec about his identity, and what that means, would be that Alec gets thrust headfirst into a life he never signed up for.
But then again, it’s Alec.
“But if I were, I’m pretty sure I’d be winning right about—”
“—Alexander.” Magnus doesn’t pull out the long name often; mostly, it’s because he doesn’t want to ruin the novelty of seeing Alec’s eyebrow go up in surprise every time he does, but it’s also because he’s such an Alec.
Pausing, the other man opts not to continue, though he undoubtedly has more things to say. He lets Magnus work his way to the beginning of the strangest and most awkward conversation they’ll probably have as a couple (if Alec even still wants to be a couple by the end of this), resting his chin against his hand in an attempt to look bored. However, Alec’s knee is bouncing in anticipation, which is entirely strange—
Usually, he’s the one who has to put a hand on Magnus’ leg to still the other man’s movements. Such is a nervous tic.
Even now, Magnus has little idea of what to say, or how to even start. But the Alec he knows likes to work in absolutes, in objectivity, and with as little of his boyfriend’s “beating around the bush” as possible. He still thinks “So hey, I’m a warlock, how about cheesecake for dessert?” seems a little brash, so Magnus eases into the moment.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m just trying to—to keep you safe.”
Alec tilts his chin down to offer an even stare, incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what you say to a guy when you’re cheating on him.”
“I’m not—”
“—I was just saying that that’s what it sounds like.”
Though he’s tempted to argue about semantics, Magnus instead settles back against his chair. He’s since abandoned his cardigan to settle for picking at his nails, but he refuses to let himself abandon the conversation. If nothing else, Alec deserves the truth, and if it’s simply too much for him to handle, then they can part ways. And, Magnus thinks bitterly, if this knowledge is still too much of a burden for Alec, he’s sure he could find a memory spell to help with that, no matter how much that decision would hurt Magnus.
“I’m not. Cheating on you. I wouldn’t.” He’s bold about that statement, at least, and Alec doesn’t seem so skeptical anymore, either. Drawing in a long breath, Magnus says, “I know you’re strong, but there are some things in this world that can’t be fought with...human strength.”
Now, Alec just looks freaked out, understandably. “And...this is the part where you tell me you poisoned my drink and are going to hide my body? Because that wasn’t creepy at all.” He keeps his tone light, though his gaze does flicker over to his water glass, and Magnus fights the urge to smack his forehead in frustration.
He loves Alec, but sometimes the other man simply doesn’t know the appropriate time to simply listen.
Oh.
He loves Alec. A surprising turn of events. Fun. Terrifying.
Just great.
“I’m not going to murder you. Or cheat on you. Why do you—what do you watch on TV?”
“Whatever Izzy does. She’s going through her true-crime phase.”
“Ah.” Magnus quirks a smile, though he feels no less unsettled. It is becoming increasingly clear to him, though, that anything he says is going to be misconstrued into something remarkably disturbing. And, if he were being honest, Magnus is also a little overeager for Alec to realize that he simply doesn’t know everything, and there’s a reason why they haven’t always been on the same page.
They will be now, though.
Before Alec can say anything else of the snarky variety, Magnus flicks his finger, and the fork that’s resting against the younger man’s plate levitates before floating across the table to Magnus’ plate and falling against the ceramic.
Alec’s eyes are wide, his mouth dropped open in semi-unflattering disbelief. Magnus tries hard not to feel self-satisfied about the new expression, but even he isn’t impervious to a little harmless pride.
“...okay. So you’ve been...taking close-up magic lessons? We could’ve made that a ‘couple’ thing—”
Two things, Magnus thinks: Alec would think that would be a stupid date idea and would have complained the entire time, and now he’s just trying to explain away what he saw. It’s typical for mundanes to fill in the blanks to describe surprising phenomena. However, what Alec can’t do is deny that there’s now a wine bottle that’s emptying a slow stream of red liquid into an empty glass by Alec’s plate.
The young man hasn’t completely lost his mind yet, which is a good sign, Magnus thinks.
“…this is just like Beauty and the Beast,” Alec comments in a hushed voice.
It’s been too long since Magnus has said anything, and he shakes his head in a quick movement before glancing back up at Alec. He wants his boyfriend to say something, something that doesn’t pertain to pop culture, but he’s not sure that he’s within his rights to ask.
“…please say something,” Magnus pleads quietly, however, once Alec falls into a lapse of silence. “I—I can answer all your questions, if you want, I just—” He, what? He can’t stand to lose Alec? Can’t stand to be hated by the guy? In truth, they haven’t been dating for an exorbitant amount of time, but they’ve still had an instant connection from the start.
It’s been too long since Magnus has felt like fighting for anything, but now that that person is in front of him, looking stupidly shocked, Magnus is afraid of letting him go.
“…so, you’re like a wizard?”
Magnus blinks, honestly jolted by the bluntness. He coughs out a nervous laugh, a signature “Magnus Bane Move,” as Alec likes to say—it’s the sort of noise the older man makes when he wants to say something particularly bold but doesn’t want to burn any bridges, though he’s not as good at hiding his habits as he originally thought.
“I prefer the term ‘warlock—’”
“Like Gandalf?”
“…you should probably stop watching television with Isabelle.”
Shrugging, Alec reaches for the wine glass and spares a look at the wine bottle that is still suspended in the air. “Thank you,” he mutters to the bottle, sounding a bit shell-shocked but altogether agreeable. “Okay, Gandalf, tell me why I shouldn’t break up with you for lying to me about…this.” He makes a circle with his hands to encompass the “this,” and while he still sounds strained, Alec has lightened his tone to the extent that Magnus begins to believe that he might not end the night alone.
Little by little, Alec begins to regain his composure as Magnus walks him through the ins and outs of being a warlock, particularly in this world. Magnus does have to admit that he’s prone to overreacting, which is a surprise to neither of them, as he is careful about everything and jumps at the smallest noises, but he won’t apologize for trying to keep Alec safe as long as he possibly could. Whether his world has any threat of demon attacks at the current moment, the fact is that a Shadowhunter from a different dimension was able to travel between realms and unintentionally brought a demon alongside her. As old is Magnus is, he can’t predict and plan for everything, and he’s only more keenly aware of this now.
But Alec, he decides, doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark. He’s too smart to be oblivious, and like most mortals, he’s not as helpless as Magnus perceives him to be. Alec’s got a quick wit and an objective view of the world; if he knows that warlocks and demons exist, then he’s less vulnerable because he can defend himself.
Essentially, Magnus has to trust Alec, which sounds easy in theory. But to be burned as many times as Magnus had been, in both little and unfathomable ways, meant that he had to trust his faith and his heart to someone who has so much power to hurt him. The power he’s giving to Alec now, Magnus muses, might be more powerful than any spell he’s ever conjured before.
“…and I just realized, that—that if I had someone I wanted to protect, then it wasn’t right of me to be selfish and put you in danger by telling you everything I wanted to. My identity, who I am—I used to think I was safe especially when my powers went dormant, but now I know that there’s still so much I don’t understand.”
For once, Alec is respectfully serious. “…and what you don’t know, you can’t protect people from.”
“Exactly.” Magnus heaves a long sigh and starts picking at his sweater again. “I’m so sorry, Alexander, I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted—I wanted to be with you, without the burden of everything else.” He’s got very little idea of what else to say, so he settles for, “I just didn’t want you to think any less of me.”
Uncharacteristically silent, Alec mulls over Magnus’ words, and the older man is already considering how terribly he’s going to feel once Alec is gone forever. But he has to remind himself that Alec’s choices are his own, that it would be hypocritical to ask him to accept Magnus’ decisions if he can’t respect Alec’s.
But then Alec leans forward, resting his arms against the table; if Magnus doesn’t know any better, than he thinks that the other man looks nearly good-natured.
“So, Clary—Jace’s girlfriend Clary—has tattoos, fights demons, and can do interdimensional travel, and you—you can make forks float.”
Though he likely doesn’t mean to, Alec offers a placating sort of smile, the kind that drips with feelings of pretending to be impressed but not actually seeing the appeal of being a warlock as opposed to being a Shadowhunter. The humor doesn’t escape Magnus, that there’s something fundamentally and universally amusing about Alec being endeared to the life of a Shadowhunter. If what the ‘other’ Clary said had been true, that her Magnus was still a warlock with a certain je ne sais quois to his arm movements while summoning his magic, then it stands to reason that her version of the Lightwoods are established Shadowhunters with an expertise for hunting demons.
“I can kill demons, too. I just don’t have a need. Remember, they don’t terrorize this world.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that even Matilda has more magic powers than you do.”
Magnus isn’t mad, really; he is, however, annoyed enough to accidentally let that spark of irritation shatter the magic behind his Glamor. He feels his fabricated resolve, centuries-old and always-sturdy, crumble without hesitation. Before Magnus can think to avert his gaze, he feels his warlock mark come back to life, blinking and revealing yellow, warm catlike eyes that gaze back at Alec.
It’s a terrifyingly silent second—Magnus is sure he’s tipped the scales too far, that Alec will see the true extent of the other man’s warlock nature and run out of the loft without a second thought.
And yet, the younger man does nothing of the sort. He just leans back in his chair, tongue swiping over his lips in a slow, thoughtful movement before looking back at Magnus. “…that is so hot,” he muttered, voice low.
The noise Magnus makes is a little embarrassing, a small noise in the back of his throat that nearly chokes him. He coughs a few times and drops his hand against the table to right himself.
“Good to know—”
“Good to see,” Alec adds. He looks as if he’s considering a few more thoughts, and Magnus doesn’t ask what he’s thinking about. “…okay. I might have read this conversation completely wrong, which is totally normal, when you don’t know your boyfriend’s a warlock, so I would…like to formally retract my suggestion to break up.” Despite the younger man’s apparent bravado, even Magnus, who thinks himself to be quite oblivious to many things, can sense Alec’s nervousness. He’s not necessarily sorry, since Magnus was keeping something from him, though he’s now aware that any sort of supposed subterfuge was really only an attempt by Magnus to keep him safe.
Magnus picks up a bread stick from the basket on the table and picks off a piece of it. He chews for a few moments before nodding, smiling lightly. “I thought about keeping up the suspense for a bit, but—I have to admit, I’m just relieved.”
There isn’t any need, Magnus believes, to tell Alec everything yet. The useless stuff about the warlocks and the Downworld, of course, but not the more important bits, such as Magnus’ realization that he’s hopelessly in love with a mortal man who is probably thinking of planning his own version of a Beauty and the Beast-Matilda mashup party at this very moment.
Alec smirks and takes a sip of wine, day-drinking be damned and all, and says, “When you said that you didn’t want me to think any less of you, I don’t think you remembered that I’m the same guy who asked you out even after watching that terrible infomercial you were in. That was pretty bad, and I still thought you were beautiful.”
When Magnus gives a breathless laugh in response, Alec props his elbow on the table and hides his mouth behind his hand. His eyes, however, shine with a brightness that is altogether impossible to ignore.
Alec might beat him to the “I love you” punch first, whenever they choose to address it, and Magnus is certain he doesn’t mind.