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Alec’s feathers were a mess and he couldn’t do anything about it.
While he was able to fold his wing over his arm and straighten out some of the feathers closer to the edges of his wings, the ones near the middle were the real problem. Not to mention the wing oil that had accumulated because the feathers near his spine were impossible to reach from any angle. Merely standing under the shower spray wasn’t enough to properly clean them.
In the past Alec had counted on his family to groom his wings, just as he had groomed their’s, but that wasn't an option now that he was living 700 miles away to attend college.
There was his roommate, but Magnus didn’t have wings and would likely feel uncomfortable cleaning Alec’s. Not to mention, Alec wasn’t sure he could survive Magnus grooming his wings without wanting to kiss the guy- more than he already did.
“What are you making?” Magnus’ voice jars him out of his thoughts as his roommate steps into the kitchen, clad only boxers and a silk robe which, unopened, frames his body more than covered it.
Alec swallows and sinks his hands back into the dough he had been kneading. “French bread.”
Magnus hums, a nice little sound that Alec could down in. His wings flutter where he has them squished as tightly as possible behind his back. He doesn’t want to risk losing a feather in the bread.
“That sounds delightful.”
“My mom taught me to make it,” Alec says, just to fill the silence. He doesn’t look away from the dough as he punches the air bubbles out, but he can feel Magnus near him, the electric energy that seems to follow him everywhere. “It’s a good way to keep my hands busy when I need to think.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Alec glances up and sees Magnus leaning against the fridge, watching him. He feels heat rise up the back of his neck as he turns back to his dough. “Just... my wings.”
“Your wings?”
Alec picks up the lump of dough and places it back on the cookie sheet to continue rising. It’s almost big enough that he can knead it again and roll it up. Not yet though. “I need to groom them,” Alec says as he washes his hands. “It’s difficult to reach.”
“I can do it for you, if you need help.”
Alec glances at him with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t mind?”
Magnus looks utterly relaxed, a sharp contrast to Alec who feels as though he's been pulled taut with nervousness. “Of course not. I had a friend back home, Raphael, I helped him all the time.”
The easy admittance makes Alec flush with irrational jealousy. Wing grooming is intimate, usually only done between family members or lovers. He tries to sound nonchalant, “Oh?”
“He got his wings from his mother but she died when he was young. His father refused to help him and we were close friends,” Magnus explains. “I like to think I do a decent job if you need the help.”
Alec hesitates because there’s still the issue of intimacy. He’s not sure he can sit still and let Magnus sift through his feathers platonically when he wants so much more. The stickiness clinging to his larger feathers makes the decision for him. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Get settled then, I’ll be right back.”
Alec kneels in the living room, back to the couch, letting his wings unfurl behind him. His heart patters in his chest, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt for something to do.
Magnus returns with a large bowl of water and a washcloth. He sets the bowl on the table next to Alec before sitting on the couch behind him. He wrings out the washcloth. “Raphael insisted I only touched his wings when completely necessary. He had a special brush though, one that enabled me to thoroughly clean his wings without much direct contact.”
Alec hasn’t heard of anyone disliking their wings being touched. Though he couldn’t imagine letting a friend groom his wings for him. Although, he supposes, that’s what he’s doing now. But it's Magnus so, “I don’t mind if you touch them.”
He feels the washcloth first, being dragged carefully over the wings closest to the base of his spine. Then, Magnus' fingers slide through the feathers, making him shiver. Magnus doesn’t speak as he cleans Alec’s wings, alternating between using the washcloth and his fingers to clear the oil from Alec’s feathers and settle them back in place.
Alec allows his eyes to fall closed under Magnus gentle ministrations. It’s not awkward as he had feared. He feels... cared for. He’s vulnerable, but Magnus is there so it’s okay. He doesn’t think he’s felt this relaxed since he moved out of his childhood home.
Magnus adjusts a feather at the end of his wing before pulling away, setting the washcloth in the half-empty bowl. “There’s soap in your feathers, but I’m sure it will wash out easily in the shower.”
“Thank you.” Alec’s eyes open. His wings feel slightly heavier than usual, weighed down by the water, but finally clean. He stands and turns to face Magnus, though he can barely meet his eye. “That really helped.”
“I accept payments of homemade French bread,” Magnus teases as he stands up as well, stretching his arms overhead. Alec pretends not to notice the way his muscles flex.
Alec feels a smile tug at his lips. One of the soft, rare smiles he reserves for Magnus alone. “I can do that. In fact, I’ll put it in the oven before I shower.”
Magnus hums in appreciation and Alec nearly dies when Magnus’ tongue pokes between his lips for less than a second. “I can’t wait.”
“Okay.” Alec gives himself a mental shake. “Okay.” He goes to the kitchen to start the bread baking before he heads for his room. He can feel the soap beginning to dry on his wings, itchy and uncomfortable.
Magnus is leaving their shared bathroom just as Alec reaches it. He shoots Alec a wink. “Let me know if you need any more help with those wings.”
Alec flushes even though he knows Magnus isn’t offering to shower with him. “They only need to be groomed every other month.”
“I know,” Magnus says cheerfully. “Make sure you get the soap close to your spine.”
Alec feels his heart jump. He turns and grabs Magnus’ wrist before he can talk himself out of it. Magnus looks at him, waiting. “What... What do you mean?”
“Alexander. Do you... like me?”
He drops Magnus’ wrist as if it burns him. He can tell by Magnus’ tone that he’s read this completely wrong. Of course he had. He bites his lip and shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it awkward, I didn’t mean to... to feel this way. I just- you're really pretty. And nice. And your hands are-” Alec cuts himself off when he realizes what he’s doing. “Shit, Magnus, I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” There’s a finger at his chin, tilting his head up so he can make eye contact. Magnus doesn’t look upset. He’s smiling. “I didn’t want to flirt with you if it was going to make you uncomfortable, given our living situation, but you looked so peaceful earlier and your wings are- they're beautiful.”
“You-” Alec’s tongue darts over his lips and he sees Magnus track the motion. “You like me?”
Magnus steps closer and Alec can feel the heat and electricity of having him so close. Gradually, Magnus’ hand softens to hold his face gently, a light touch that Alec leans into. “Very much.”
Alec swallows hard. He hadn't dared to hope and now here Magnus is, telling him he feels the same. It’s almost too much. Alec leans in, hands coming up only to hover uselessly by Magnus’ sides.
Magnus must take pity on him because he raises one of Alec’s hands to his waist, letting it settle there. Alec lifts his other to do the same, so he’s holding Magnus, the fabric of his silk robe preventing their skin from touching.
Magnus’ free hand moves to Alec’s shoulder as he steps forward, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips firmly to Alec’s.
Alec melts into the kiss, wings fluttering behind him, echoing the way his heart flutters in his chest. He tugs Magnus closer, holds him tighter. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have this and now he’s never going to let go.