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Busy nights and sleepless days, the life of a cat never gets easier.
More so when the people whose lives revolve around you include Warlocks and various Downworlders. Add a sprinkle of Shadowhunters into the mix, and well, Chairman practically starts every day already exhausted out of his mind.
It’s not that these Downworlders or Shadowhunters are necessarily doing anything to test him. Their interactions are minimal, a Raphael here, a Ragnor there. Catarina and Dot are more understanding of his plight, summoning treats and pleasant strokes of their soft hands on his fur, less erratic in their movements than the other two. But being this cute all the time is taxing, and Chairman digresses in indignant meows that he must find another place to charge his battery after fitful catnaps on their laps.
Things become more hectic when the Shadowhunters become involved. His home becomes overrun with children (because Chairman is an old, wise soul and anyone younger than he and Magnus are children in comparison) on the daily, the young red-head crying and complaining about something in a high pitch that he croons along to, because she’s infiltrated the couch he sleeps on, and now he’ll have to move.
The couch is one of his top ten places to sleep, a pillow that retains his heat and warms his beans throughout his slumber. When Magnus has company, this is the hardest pillow to reclaim and he finds himself seeking out others in disdain.
The bed is always a good choice, secluded and empty. It’s comfortable, but too soft for his liking. Plus, the silk is slippery, and when Chairman catches a nail and snags a thread, Magnus chides him with kisses and barely concealed warnings to not do it again. And, well, if the Chairman finds himself snagging a nail when Magnus isn’t around to witness it, it’s a complete accident.
Thankfully, the chaos of these constant Shadowhunters settle shortly after they begin, and Chairman is allotted his daily routine of napping on the couch, between the armrest and Magnus’ thigh, a perfect ensconce of heat to surround him. Well, it would be, if Magnus stayed put long enough for him to actually fall asleep.
Even Chairman settling and kneading soft purrs into Magnus’ legs doesn’t stop the warlock from lifting him up and setting him aside with a gentle pat to his head. And well, Chairman is only a cat, and feeling affronted by every little action and inaction is basically his MO.
If he lashes out by knocking over that potion he knows Magnus has been working on for days, with the excuse that it looked like a cup of water that wronged him in a past life, can Magnus really be that mad?
On the other hand, Magnus has been home a lot more lately, not frequenting the clubs as he has for the past hundred years, choosing the solitude of Chairman and Church’s company, even going as far as to attract all the nearby strays for the times when Magnus needs the comforting fluff of a blanket of cats.
Though the Shadowhunters that swarm their apartment on any given day become less chaotic, their attendance is still constant, one in particular.
And Chairman is no idiot, he’s got eyes just like Magnus, and he knows that look. He’s been around for countless lovers, countless partners, countless… whatevers . He’s seen them come and go, he’s seen them hurt Magnus, he’s seen them light a spark in the eyes that become dulled with liquor in the time between when Magnus needs to recover his heart.
This Shadowhunter, ‘ Alexander’ Magnus calls him. Well, this Alexander guy doesn’t seem like the others.
Call him generous, call him a god, but one day after a particularly restful nap, Chairman stretches full-body and satisfying before he trots to his next designated napping area on the couch. Alexander is there, legs crossed as he frowns at his electronic device in serious thought. And Chairman can sympathize, because seriously thinking about where to sleep next, or when it’s time to eat can be a stressful matter. You got this, Alexander.
Precariously, Chairman jumps to the cushion beside Alexander, spins for good measure to make sure that yes , this is the ideal temperature to sustain him, and settles in much like he would next to Magnus.
He’s just dozing off when there are curious, hesitant fingers tingling his senses, and he lifts a head to peer up at the intruder.
Wide hazel eyes stare down at him, cautious, scared. Alexander the Shadowhunter, this soldier that Magnus allows into his home at any and all times of the day. The warrior who comes with seraph blade and bow in-hand, sometimes bloodied and bruised, sometimes breathless and grinning until he realizes he’s doing it. Alexander, who watches him anticipating an attack, but clearly not looking to fight back.
In that moment, with the bump of his forehead against the stilled hands, Chairman decides that Alexander is allowed to pet him.
And Alexander, it seems, prefers routines just as much as Chairman does. He likes dependability and function, he likes things that are expected.
Chairman likes him.
For all the things he likes, Alexander himself is also dependable, functional, and expected with the way he always gives the best pets and scratches that are never too soft or too rough, surprising for a Shadowhunter. Unsurprisingly, he also makes an incredible pillow.
He’s muscled, similar to Magnus, but where Magnus’ lithe form is slender and his skin softer, Alexander is a nice contrast of wide and rough.
They’re a complement, the perfect combination for Chairman to live his life between, destined to come together for the sole purpose of giving him exactly what he needs to live a life of happy purrs. And he does, because no longer does he need to search for the perfect place to sleep, or the perfect pillow. Because Magnus has already gifted it to him in the form of Alexander the Shadowhunter.
Perhaps his favorite thing about sleeping on Alexander’s lap, who is always cautious to let Chairman sleep as long as he needs to until he’s rested, isn’t necessarily the fact that the muscles and body heat are the perfect firmness and warmth.
No, his favorite thing is the fact that Alexander always brings Magnus back to the Chairman. And though the Downworlders and Shadowhunters that step into their apartment follow his rules of the land and bend to the will of the Chairman, his life revolves around a solitary point, one Magnus Bane.
So when he hops onto Alexander’s lap, he can always count on Alexander gifting him the blinding sunshine of Magnus’ warm smile, always readily available in his presence, and comforting magic to lull him to sleep.
Yes, Alexander the Shadowhunter is Chairman Meow’s favorite pillow.