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Tangled legs in silk sheets and the warm puff of a slumbering breath against his chest, heat from the rough palm tucked between the mattress and his side, and Alec – Alexander.
You’re so cute when you sleep, Magnus thinks, tracing the dignified jaw of the face pressed against his skin. Alec’s nose twitches, barely a movement, and Magnus catches it – always catches all the moments of innocent vulnerability where Alec lets his guard down only to him. The sky outside is lightening with the wake of New York, and though duty rises in the hues of the sun Magnus holds onto these moments for just a little longer.
These hours are for lovers, for them, and as he ducks his nose into the tuft of hair, he feels the curl of Alec’s fingers around his hips, the shift of his weight –
“... love you...”
Magnus stills, pausing halfway in his trek from Alec’s chin to his temples, balanced in time with the quiet thrum of his heart against his ribs the only indicator of reality moving.
“... Alexander?”
A soft grumbling sound of a snore is the first response he receives from Alec, and the second one is the tightening of the arms around his middle that mimic the clench of his heart in an echoed synchrony. You didn’t mean to say that, Magnus rationalizes to himself.
It’s a moment he’ll save for later, a cherished memory that he’ll recite to Alec when they’re basking in the twinkling light of the stars that only penetrate the blinding lights of the city through force of magic. When Alec will laugh despite the blush on his face that he allowed himself to be that blearily honest with Magnus so early on, his fingers weaving into Magnus’ in as gentle a hold as he’s woven every stitch of their lives together.
But for now, he settles deeper into the arms around him and presses a delicate kiss to the crown of Alec’s head, because morning is still an hour away and the desire to savor accidental confessions weighs heavy in his throat.
I think I love you too.