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The loft is dark when Magnus gets home, which isn’t that unusual. Shadowhunters work long hours, and Alec has never been one to let his leadership position keep him out of the daily grind.
It is disappointing, though. Today has been an unmitigated headache, and he’s been sustaining himself through one frustrating client appointment after another on the wistful hope that Alec’s patrol would actually finish up on schedule for a change. Magnus is currently in dire need of a drink, a foot rub, and a sympathetic ear.
Ah, well. The first thing he can take care of himself, at least, and possibly see about dinner. If Alec is still out on patrol this late, that means that his day is going just as miserably as Magnus’s is. He conjures up a martini with an absent flick of magic and brings it to his lips, banishes his boots to the hall closet, already contemplating which restaurant to pilfer dinner from. Something easy, he thinks. Something they can eat on the couch, or perhaps in bed…
That tempting line of thought is derailed by the sound of a clatter out on the balcony. He straightens, banishing his drink, magic coiling around his palms, but before he can manifest an attack aura, a quiet voice calls, “It’s just me.”
“Alexander?” Magnus says, wrong-footed, allowing the magic to sink back beneath his skin as he crosses the living room, flicking a light on as he goes. There are candles set up around the balcony, he realizes, Alec’s tall form silhouetted against the night. “I didn’t realize you were home.”
“Sorry,” Alec says, moving into the light, a sheepish expression on his face. “I thought I’d have it all set up by the time you got home. Took longer than I expected.”
“What took longer than you expected?”
“Nothing bad,” Alec adds, although he actually looks sort of anxious. He’s dressed in a nice suit, Magnus realizes, a dark gray shirt with an open collar underneath. It’s an exceedingly good look on him, but it’s definitely not his costume of choice for patrolling the sewers.
“Okay…” Magnus tilts his head. Hr can tell by the face Alec makes that he’s not doing an especially good job of keeping the wariness out of his voice.
“Look, just--here. Come on. It’s pretty much done anyway. And if you hate it, we can just, like, order Chinese or something.”
“What,” Magnus starts, and then he pauses as he follows Alec out to the balcony.
Candles are set up on the railing and in the center of the table, illuminating the space in a cozy, flickering glow. The table is set with the good china and gleaming dishware, an impressive spread that Alec definitely didn’t cook himself displayed on silver platters in the center. Rose petals are scattered on the stone beneath their feet, a bottle of a good white uncorked and a pair of glasses set out.
It’s strikingly similar to that doomed balcony dinner of almost a year ago. The one that ended with Magnus sobbing frantically into Alec’s shoulder, drunk and wild with grief, and for an instant something sharp and unpleasant passes through him at the reminder.
Then it fades, and there’s just Magnus with his magic humming comfortingly through his veins, and Alec standing there with a cautious expression on his face, spinning his wedding ring around and around on his finger.
Magnus swallows, then says, “It’s beautiful. Did I forget a special occasion?”
“No,” Alec says, and the hopeful curl of his smile makes the last of that sharpness fade. “I just wanted to do something nice. And I thought maybe it would be a… I don’t know. A better memory than the last one.”
“Oh,” Magnus says softly.
“But if you hate it, we can just go out. Or order in, whichever.”
“I don’t hate it,” Magnus says, and finds that he’s smiling as he steps closer to pull Alec down into a kiss. Alec is smiling too when they pull apart, and there’s more than a little relief in it. Magnus kisses him again. “It’s lovely.”
“Oh, good,” Alec says. Magnus starts to step closer, but he pauses when one of Alec’s pockets--wiggles.
“Um.” he says, pulling back. “Your pocket is moving.”
Alec makes a face. “Okay, so there was actually something I wanted to ask you.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Magnus says. He grins when Alec lets out an exasperated little laugh and relaxes visibly. “Okay, I’ll stop. What is it?”
“Okay, just--you can say no, but—” Alec dips his hand into his jacket pocket and comes up with a scrap of black fluff that fits in his palm. As Magnus watches, it shifts again, then stretches, paws extending, mouth opening to display a pink tongue and tiny, needle-sharp teeth.
Magnus blinks. “Oh.”
“It’s a kitten,” Alec says, unnecessarily, cupping the tiny creature against his chest. Something about the unconscious tenderness of the gesture makes a warm fondness twist through Magnus. “I found her on patrol--her mom was dead, but I thought maybe we could keep her?” When Magnus doesn’t respond right away, he adds, “You really don’t need to say yes. Izzy said she’ll take her if you don’t want to. But I just thought…”
“You surprised me with a lovely dinner to ask if we could adopt a kitten together?” Magnus asks. He can feel his mouth curving into a delighted smile he doesn’t even try to hide.
Alec shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes? Is that weird?”
“No,” Magnus says, although it is, a little. Weird and charming and sweet, just like his Alexander. He leans in for another kiss, careful of the bundle of fluff still cradled against Alec’s chest and gets a soft, happy noise from Alec and an indignant squeak from the kitten. They’re both unfairly adorable, and really, it’s no choice at all. “Yes, of course we can keep her.”