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Alec sighs, a frown stamped onto his face. When he sends Magnus and Clary to retrieve some ancient demonology scrolls, he definitely did not expected this.
“When we tried to—” Clary winces, “borrow the scroll, we didn’t realize there was old angelic magic bound to it. Extremely hostile to anything demonic, an old protection rune I’ve only ever briefly seen on old text. By the time I realized what it was, I’ve already opened it. It was going to harm Magnus.” She shakes her head as if in regret, “So I made a rune.”
“You turned Magnus,” Jace says slowly, “Into Nephilim.”
They watch from afar as Magnus warily eyes the runes across his forearms.
“Yeah.”
Alec looks at the Magnus that sits on the couch of his office, oddly silent. He presses his lips together and pushes away the stack of reports on his desk. Magnus only looks up when he feels the dip of the couch cushions beside him.
“Hey.”
Magnus smiles. “Hey.”
“We’ll fix this.” Alec softly reassures, “I promise.”
“Of course, Alexander. That I have no doubt.” Magnus murmurs, pulling at the sleeve of his maroon button up, “It’s just—unusual not feeling my magic." He breathes out, “I don’t even know what’s on my own skin.”
Alec smiles small, shifting in his seat. “I can tell you.”
He takes Magnus’ arm in his hands and gently presses on a spot on his arm. “This is acceleration.” He shifts his hold, “Agility.” Fingers travel higher, right on the bicep, “Flexibility.”
Magnus can’t help but grin. “Oh?”
Alec chuckles in response, low and scratchy, and his eyes track up to the side of Magnus’ neck. Fingers reach out and unbuttons the collar that hides half of the rune. Alec brushes at the spot, head tilted, eyes almost lost.
“Fearless.”
Alec feels Magnus’ breathing change beneath his fingers as he unbuttons one, two more and finds what he’s unconsciously looking for. A deflect rune, sitting squarely over Magnus’ heart, like some kind of poetic mechanism of the universe.
Magnus is the first to move, and in two beats he has hands on Alec, pulling him down onto him as they kiss open-mouthed, tongues touching. Fingers work almost on their own accord as Alec rip at the remaining buttons and Magnus pulls at the soft stretch of fabric across Alec’s back. They break apart momentarily and Alec sits back, knees pressed against Magnus' waist, surveying what is before him. He breathes, in and out, in and out, gaze heavy as honey as it grazes over runes and lines of muscle.
A knock echoes, and it makes Magnus grateful for Alec’s stubborn habit of locking doors behind him. Clary’s voice rings from the other side. Hey, I might have something!
“Not yet!” Magnus yells, and it makes Alec burst into wrangled laughter.
Magnus grins back, palming Alec’s deflect rune and pulling a laughing fool back down into a kiss.
He can bear being Nephilim for an hour or two more.