Work Text:
Previously-
"Shit, Alec!" Bane cries. He tugs the hand that he's holding so hard that I fall back against him just as a cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street.
It all happens so fast - one minute I'm falling, the next I'm in his arms, and he's holding me tightly against his chest. I inhale his sharp, citric scent. He smells of fresh ground spices and some expensive body-wash. Oh my, it's intoxicating. I inhale deeply.
"Are you okay?" he whispers. He has one arm around me, clasping me to him, while the fingers of his other hand softly trace the sharp edges of my face, gently probing, examining me. His thumb brushes my lower lip, and I hear his breath hitch. He's staring into my eyes, and I hold his anxious, burning gaze for a moment or maybe it's forever... but eventually, my attention is drawn to his beautiful glossy mouth. Oh my. And for the first time in twenty-three years, I want to be kissed. I want to feel his mouth on me.
Ok maybe it’s obvious that I’m gay.
Now-
Kiss me damn it! I implore him, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by him. I'm staring at Magnus Bane 's exquisitely sculpted mouth, mesmerized, and he's looking down at me, his gaze hooded, his eyes harding into molten honey.
He's breathing harder than usual, and I've stopped breathing altogether.
Kiss me, please. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives me a small shake of his head as if in answer to my silent question. When he opens his eyes again, it's with some new purpose, a steely resolve.
"Alexander, you should stay clear of me. I'm not the man for you," he whispers.
What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown up at him, and my head swims with rejection.
"Breathe, Alexander, breathe. I'm going to stand you up and let you go," he says voice soft like a pillow, as he pushes me away; a pillow filled with thorns.
Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady proximity to Magnus, I wasn't sure but it left me feeling light and dizzy. NO! PLEASE! My psyche screams as he pulls away, leaving me bereft. He has his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length, watching my reactions carefully. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and he didn't do it. He doesn't want me.
"I've got this," I breathe, finding my voice. "Thank you," I mutter awash with heat and humiliation. How could I have misread the situation between us so utterly? I need to get away from him. Now.
"For what?" he frowns. He hasn't taken his hands off from my shoulders yet and my body shudders involuntarily at his silk like voice.
"For saving me," I whisper, breathy and shaken.
"That idiot was riding the wrong way. I'm glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit down in the hotel for a moment?" He releases me finally, his hands hanging by his sides almost awkwardly, his silver ringed fingers fiddle with each other as I just stand in front of him feeling like a complete fool.
With a shake of dark hair, I clear my head. I just want to go. All my vague, unarticulated hopes have been dashed. He doesn't want me. What would Magnus Bane want with you? My subconscious mocks me. I wrap my arms around myself in a comforting embrace and turn to face the road, noting with relief that the green man has appeared. I quickly make my way across, conscious that Bane is behind me.
Outside the hotel, I turn briefly to face him but cannot look him in the eye, so instead I focus on the grainy material that makes up the people lined sidewalk.
"Thanks for the tea and doing the photo shoot," I murmur.
"Alexander... I... " He stops, and the anguish in his voice demands my attention, so I peer unwillingly down at him. His golden eyes are bleak as he runs his hand carefully through his hair, clearly not wanting to mess up the perfectly styled locks.
He looks torn, frustrated even, his expression stark, all his careful control has evaporated.
"What is it Magnus ?" I snap irritably after he says nothing for several moments. I just want to go. I need to take my fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health.
"Good luck with your exams," he mutters.
Huh. That’s the big send off? Just good luck in my exams?
"Thanks." I can't disguise the sarcasm in my voice even if I wanted to. "Goodbye, Mr. Bane." I turn on my heel, vaguely amazed that I don't trip, and without giving him a second glance, I disappear down the sidewalk toward the underground garage.
Once underneath the dark, cold concrete of the garage with its bleak fluorescent light, I lean up against the wall and put my head in my hands. What was I thinking? Unbidden and unwelcome tears pool in my brown eyes. Why am I crying? I’m a grown ass man for god's sake. I'm a Lightwood.
I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. Drawing up my wobbly knees, I fold in on myself; well as much as a 6’3 male can. I want to make myself as small as possible. Perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller the smaller I am.
Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - How would mom feel about this? Dad? Jace?
They would probably laugh at me for being so ridiculous and sensitive, especially over something so not worth my tears. We aren't even dating, one date and I'm already a crying blubbering mess.
Pathetic.
My dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.
I have never been on the receiving end of rejection . I was always one of the first to be picked for basketball and one of the first to shoot on my archery team. Romantically, however, I've never put myself out there, ever. A lifetime of insecurity and battling with my sexuality. - I'm too pale, too unapproachable, too awkward, uncoordinated, not enough sharp lines... my long list of faults goes on.
So I have always been the one to rebuff any would be admirers. There was that guy in my chemistry class who liked me, but no one has ever sparked my interest - no one except Magnus damn Bane. Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Lydia Branwell and Andrew Underhill, though I'm sure neither of them have been found sobbing alone in dark places.
Perhaps I just need a good cry.
Stop! Stop Now! - My subconscious is metaphorically screaming at me, arms folded, leaning on one leg and tapping his foot in frustration. Get in the car, go home, do your studying. Forget about him... Now! And stop all this self-pitying, wallowing bull shit.
I take a deep, steadying breath and stand up. Get it together Lightwood. I head for Jace's car, wiping the tears off my face as I do. I will not think of him again. I can just chalk this incident up to inexperience and concentrate on my exams.
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Jace is sitting at the dining table at his laptop when I arrive. His welcoming smile fades when he sees me.
"Alec what's wrong?"
Oh no... not the Jace Wayland Inquisition. I shake my head at him in a back-off now kind of way - but I might as well be dealing with a blind, mule.
"You've been crying?" he has an exceptional gift for stating the damned obvious sometimes. "What did that bastard do to you?" he growls, all hard edges, clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.
"Nothing Jace." That's actually the problem. The thought brings a wry smile to my face."Then why have you been crying? You never cry Alec. Like never. Not even that one time in seventh grade when you broke your foot." he says, his voice softening. He stands slowly,his brown and blue eyes brimming with concern. He puts his arms around me and hugs me. “What’s going on Alec? Come on you know you can talk to me.”
I know Jace, I know. I think to myself.
I need to say something just to get you off my back though.
"I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist." It's the best that I can do, but it distracts him momentarily.
"What? Alec - are you okay? Were you hurt?" he holds me at arm's length and does a quick visual check-up on me.
"No. Magnus saved me," I whisper. "But I was quite shaken."
Jace's eyes narrow in confusion for a second before saying, "I wont say that isn't surprising but I get it, a mad cyclist coming at you full speed threatening to plow over you is terrifying.” He has this distant look in his eye like he is remembering something. “Anyway, How was the coffee date? I know you hate coffee."
"I had tea. It was fine, nothing to report really. I don't know why he asked me."
"He likes you Alec." He drops his arms from my shoulders.
"Not anymore. I won't be seeing him again." Thankfully, I manage to sound matter of fact.
"Oh?"
Great.. He's intrigued. I head into the kitchen so that he can't see my face.
"Yeah... he's a little out of my league Jace," I say as dryly as I can manage.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh Jace, it's obvious." I whirl round and face him as he stands in the kitchen doorway. "Not to me," he says. "Okay, he's got more money than you, and I’ll admit there is something a little off about him- but then again he has more money than most people in America!"
"Jace he's - " I shrug, with a grimace painting my face.
"Alec! For heaven's sake - how many times must I tell you? You're the total package," he interrupts me. My face flames red.
"Jace, please. I need to study." I cut him short. He frowns.
"Do you want to see the article? It's finished. Andrew took some great pictures."
Do I need a visual reminder of the beautiful Magnus I-don't-want-you Bane?
"Sure," I magic a smile onto my face and stroll over to the laptop. And there he is, staring at me in black and white, staring at me and finding me lacking.
I pretend to read the article, all the time meeting his steady dark gray gaze, searching the photo for some clue as to why he's not the man for me - his own words to me . And it's suddenly, blindingly obvious. He's too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. I have a vision of myself as Icarus flying too close to the sun and crashing and burning as a result. His words make sense. He's not the man for me.
This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to accept.. . almost . I can live with this. I understand.
"Very good Jace," I manage. "I'm going to study." I am not going to think about him again for now, I vow to myself, and opening my revision notes, I start to read.
----------------------------------------------------
It's only when I'm in bed, trying to sleep, that I allow my thoughts to drift through my strange morning. I keep coming back to the 'I don't do the relationships' quote, and I'm angry that I didn't pounce on this information sooner, when I was in his arms mentally begging him with every fiber of my being to kiss me. He'd said it there and then. He didn't want me as a boyfriend. I turn onto my side. Idly, I wonder if perhaps he's celibateI close my eyes and begin to drift. Maybe he's saving himself. Well not for you, my sleepy subconscious has a final swipe at me before unleashing itself on my dreams.
And that night, I dream of golden eyes, leafy patterns in milk, and I'm running through dark places with eerie strip lighting, and I don't know if I'm running toward something or away from it ... it's just not clear.
---------------------------------
I put my pen down. Finished. My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face. It's probably the first time all week that I've smiled.
It's Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! Maybe, we will see. I 've never been drunk before, since I've never really been one for alcohol.
I glance across the sports hall at Jace, and he's still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the end. This is it , the end of my academic career. I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again. Inside I'm doing graceful cartwheels around my head, knowing full well that's the only place I can do graceful cartwheels. Jace stops writing and puts his pen down. He glances across at me, and I catch his cheek splitting smile too.
We head back to our apartment together in his Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Jace is more concerned about what he's going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily patting down my pockets for my keys.
"Alec! There's a package for you." Jace is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown box. Odd. I haven't ordered anything from Amazon recently.
Jace gives me the box and takes my keys to open the front door. It's addressed to Mr. Alexander Lightwood. There's no sender's address or name. Perhaps it's from my mom or Father?
"It's probably from our folks."
"Open it!" Jace is clearly excited as he heads into the kitchen for our 'Exams are finished Champagne'.
I carefully rip open the box, and inside I find another box but this one is half leather and it’s containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card.
Written on one side, in black ink neat cursive handwriting, is a quote I recognize from Tess. I am stunned by the irony as I've just spent three hours writing about the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no irony... perhaps it's deliberate. I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D'Urbervilles. I open the front cover. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:
'London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.'
Holy shit - these are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who's sent them. Jace is at my shoulder gazing down at the books. He picks up the card.
"First Editions," I whisper.
"No." Jace's eyes are wide with disbelief. "Bane?"
I nod.
"Can't think of anyone else."
"What does this card mean?"
"I have no idea. I think it's a warning - honestly he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It's not like I'm beating his door down." I frown, my sharp canines coming out and nibbling on my bottom lip.
"I know you don't want to talk about him, Alec, but he's seriously into you. Warnings or no warnings."
I have not let myself dwell on Magnus Bane for the past week. Okay ... so his golden eyes are still haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and his wonderful fragrance from my brain.
Why has he sent me this? What's the catch? He told me that I wasn't for him. Has he suddenly changed his mind?
"I've found one Tess first edition for sale in New York at $14,000. But yours looks in much better condition. They must have cost more." Jace is consulting our good friend Google.
"This quote - Tess says it to her mother after Alec D'Urberville has had his wicked way with her."
"I know," muses Jace. "What is he trying to say?"
"I don't know, and I don't care. I can't accept these from him. I'll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book."
"The bit where Angel Clare says fuck off?" Jace asks with a completely straight face.
"Yes, that bit." I chuckle. I love Jace, he's so loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. Jace hands me a full glass of champagne.
"To the end of exams and our new life in New york," he grins wide enough to show his straight white teeth and boyish dimples.
"To the end of exams, our new life in New York, and excellent results." We clink glasses and drink.
---------------------------------'
The bar is loud and chaotic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. Andrew joins us. He won't graduate for another year, but he's in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all. As I down my fifth, I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.
I feel the buzz in my veins and the burn of the bitter taste in my throat.
"So what now Alec?" Andrew shouts at me over the noise.
"Jace and I are moving closer to downtown. Our parents have bought a condo there for us."
"God damn, how the other half live. But you'll be back for my show?"
"Of course, Andrew, I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile, and he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
"It means a lot to me that you'll be there Alec," he whispers in my ear. "Another margarita?"
"Andrew Underhill - are you trying to get me drunk? Because it's working."
He laughs full bodied and boisterous. "I think I'd better have a beer. I'll go get us a pitcher."
"More drink, Alec!" Jace bellows.
Jace has the constitution of an ox. He's got his arm draped over a silver headed girl, one of our fellow English students and his usual photographer on the student newspaper.
He's given up taking photos of the drunkenness that surrounds him. He only has eyes for Jace now, it seems. He's all black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and skin tight shirt. His hair is slicked back with two small tendrils hanging down softly around his face.
Me, I'm more of a combat boots and black t-shirt kind of guy, but I'm wearing my most flattering jeans tonight. I move out of Andrew's hold and get up from our table. Whoa. Head spin. Wheeee . I have to grab the back of the chair. Ok, note to self tequila based cocktails are not a good idea .
I make my way to the bar and decide that I should visit the bathroom while I am on my feet. Good thinking, Alec. I stagger off through the crowd. No line . And thankfully it's quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone as I lean back against the cool slick wall. Hmm... Who did I last call? Was it Andrew? Before that a number I don't recognize. Oh yes. Bane , I think this is his number. I giggle quietly to myself.
I have no idea what the time is, maybe I'll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the cryptic message. If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial.
He answers on the second ring.
"Alexander?" He's surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I'm surprised to ring him.
Then my befuddled brain registers... how does he know it's me?
"Why did you send me the books?" I slur out at him, words all broken and sloppy.
"Alexander, are you okay? You sound strange." His voice is low and filled with concern.
"I'm not the strange one, you are," I accuse. There - that told him , my courage fuelled by alcohol said.
"Alexander, have you been drinking?"
"What's it to you?"
"I'm - curious. Where are you?"
"In a bar."
"Which bar?" He sounds exasperated.
"A bar downtown."
"How are you getting home?"
"I'll find a way." This conversation is not going how I expected it to.
"Which bar are you in?"
"Why did you send me the books, Magnus?"
"Alexander, where are you, tell me now." His tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak. I imagine him as an old time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old fashioned megaphone and a riding crop.
The image makes me laugh out loud.
"You're so... domineering," I giggle and snort loudly the sound echoing off the empty bathroom walls.
"Alec, so help me, where the fuck are you?"
Magnus Bane is swearing at me. I snorted again. "I'm downtown... s'a long way from home "
"Where downtown?"
"Goodnight, Magnus ."
"Alexander!"
I hang up. Ha! Though he didn't tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplished then. Darn . I am really quite drunk - my head swims uncomfortably. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I have succeeded.
This is what it's like - probably not an experience to be repeated. I decide then to actually do what I came in here for.
I stare blankly at the poster on the dirty white wall that extols the virtues of safe sex. Holy shit , did I just call Magnus Bane Shit .
My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yell out in surprise.
"Hi," I bleat timidly into the phone. I hadn't reckoned on this.
"I'm coming to get you," he says and hangs up. Only Magnus Bane could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.
Holy hell. I zip my jeans up. My heart is thumping. Coming to get me? Oh no . I'm going to be sick... no ... I'm fine. Hang on. He's just messing with my head. I didn't tell him where I was. He can't find me here. Besides, it will take him hours to get here from where he lives, and we'll be long gone by then. I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror.
I look flushed and slightly unfocused. Hmm... tequila.
I wait at the bar for what feels like an eternity for the pitcher of beer and eventually return to the table.
"You've been gone so long." Jace scolds me. "Where were you?"
"I was in line for the restroom." That earns me a confused look from Jace but thankfully no one comments.
Andrew and Lorenzo are having some heated debate about our local baseball team. Andrew pauses in his tirade to pour us all beers, and I take a long sip.
"Jace, I think I'd better step outside and get some fresh air."
"Alec, you are such a lightweight." He teases with a sly smile but his eyes are gentle and even seem to be hiding slight concern behind them.
"I'll be five minutes." I promise, returning his smile.
I make my way through the crowd again. I am beginning to feel nauseous , my head is spinning uncomfortably, and I'm a little unsteady on my feet. More unsteady than usual.
Breathing in the cool evening air in the parking lot makes me realize how drunk I am.
My vision has been affected, and I'm really seeing double of everything like in old reruns of Tom and Jerry Cartoons. I think I'm going to be sick. Why did I let myself get this messed up?
"Alec," Andrew has joined me . "You okay?"
"I think I've just had a bit too much to drink." I smile weakly at him.
"Me too," he murmurs, and his dark eyes are watching me intently. "Do you need a hand?" he asks and steps closer, putting his arm around me.
"Andrew I'm okay. I've got this." I try and push him away rather feebly.
"Alec, please," he whispers, and now he's holding me in his arms, pulling me close.
"Andrew, what are you doing?" My voice is hard now and my eyes panicked.
"You know I like you Alec, please." He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head.. he's going to kiss me. "No Andrew, stop - no ." I push him, he stumbles back a little but he uses his grip on my body to stabilize himself .
His hand has slipped into my hair, and he's holding my head in place, I try to yank away from his grip but all it results in is his hand tightening more.
"Please, Alec." he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet - of margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my slightly stubbled jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.
If only I wasn't drunk, he would find himself on his ass right now.
"Andrew, no," I plead. I don't want this . “What about Lorenzo? You guys- working well-” My tongue feels like lead and I curse myself mentally for drinking as much as I have. My hands feebly try to pry myself from his grip as my feet wobble from side to side hoping he will lose his grip.
Suddenly all the years of boxing lessons are out the window and not in reach.
I think I'm going to throw up. "I think he said no." A voice in the dark says quietly. Holy shit! Magnus Bane , he's here.
Andrew releases me.
"Bane ," he says tersely. I glance anxiously down at Magnus. He's glowering at Andrew, and he's furious, golden eyes all squinted and glossy lips brought up into a scowl. Shit. My stomach heaves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly onto the ground.
"Ugh-god damnit, Alec!" Andrew jumps back in disgust. Bane gently leads me over to a raised flower bed on the edge of the parking lot. I note, with deep gratitude, that it's in relative darkness.
"If you're going to throw up again, do it here. I'll hold you." He has one arm around my shoulders - the other is rubbing gentle circles into the swell of my back. I try awkwardly to push him away, but I vomit again... and again.
How long is this going to last? Even when my stomach's empty and nothing is coming up, horrible dry heaves wrack my body. I vow silently that I'll never ever drink again. This is just too appalling for words.
Finally, it stops.
My hands are resting on the brick wall of the flowerbed, barely holding myself up - vomiting profusely is exhausting. Bane takes his hands off me and passes me a handkerchief.
Only he would have a monogrammed, freshly laundered, linen handkerchief. MB. I didn't know you could still buy these. I wipe my mouth. I cannot bring myself to look up at him. I'm swamped with shame;disgusted with myself. I want to be swallowed up by the azaleas in the flowerbed and be anywhere but here .Andrew is still hovering by the entrance to the bar, watching us. I groan and put my head in my hands. This has to be the single worst moment of my life. My head is still swimming as I try to remember a worse one - and I can only come up with Magnus 's rejection - and this is so, so many shades darker in terms of humiliation.
I risk a peek at him. He's staring down at me, his face composed, giving nothing away. Turning, I glance at Andrew who looks pretty shamefaced himself and, like me, intimidated by Bane. I glare icily at him . I have a few choice words for my so-called friend, none of which I can repeat in front of Magnus Bane CEO. Alec who are you kidding, he's just seen you hurl all over the ground and into the local flora.
"I'll err... see you inside," Andrew mutters, but we both ignore him, and he slinks off back into the building. I'm on my own with Bane . What should I say to him?
Apologize for the phone call.
"I'm sorry," I mutter, staring at the handkerchief which I am furiously worrying with my fingers. It's so soft and silky.
"What are you sorry for Alexander?"
Oh god, he wants his damned pound of flesh.
"The phone call mainly, being sick. Oh, the list is endless," I murmur, feeling my skin coloring up. Please, please can I die now? Maybe I can call Jace real quick, he would do it.
"We've all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you," he says dryly, but with a flair of his hands. "It's about knowing your limits, Alexander. I mean, I'm all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?"
My head buzzes with excess alcohol and irritation. What the hell has it got to do with him!
I didn't invite him here. He sounds like a middle-aged man scolding me like an errant child. Part of me wants to say,’ if I want to get drunk every night like this, then it's my decision and nothing to do with him’ - but I decide not to. Not now that I've thrown up in front of him. Why is he still standing there? Is he really that set on being the hero?
"No," I say contritely. "I've never been drunk before and right now I have no desire to ever be again."
I just don't understand why he's here. I begin to feel faint. He notices my dizziness and grabs me before I fall and hoists me into his arms; quite effortlessly considering I am a good four inches taller then he is- holding me close to his chest like a young child.
"Come on, I'll take you home," he murmurs gently.
"I need to tell Jace." Holy angel, I'm in his arms again.
"My friend can tell him."
"What?"
"My friend Clary is talking to Mr. Wayland."
"Oh?" I don't understand, Who is this Clary?
"She was with me when you phoned."
"At your house?" I'm confused.
"No, I'm staying at the Heathman."
Still? Why?
"How did you find me?"
"I tracked your cell phone Alexander."
Oh, of course he fucking did. Is that even legal? Stalker, my subconscious whispers at me through the cloudy haze of tequila that's still fogging up my brain, but somehow, because it's him, I don't mind.
What does that say about me?
"Do you have a jacket?"
"Err... yes. Magnus, please, I need to tell Jace. He'll worry." His mouth presses into a hard line, and he sighs heavily.
"If you must."
He sets me down,and takes my hand, leading me back into the bar. I feel weak, still drunk, embarrassed, exhausted, mortified, and on some strange level absolutely off the scale thrilled. He's clutching my hand - such a confusing array of emotions. I'll need at least a week to process them all.
It's noisy, crowded, and the music has started so there is a large crowd on the dance floor. Jace is not at our table, and Andrew has disappeared. Lorenzo looks betrayed and forlorn on his own. "Where's Jace?" I shout at Lorenzo above the noise. My head is beginning to pound in time to the thumping bass line of the music.
"Dancing," Lorenzo shouts, and I can tell he's mad. He's eyeing Magnus suspiciously.
I struggle into my black jacket. I'm ready to go, once I've seen Jace.
"He's on the dance floor," I touch Magnus 's arm and lean down to shout in his ear, brushing his hair with my nose, smelling his comfotring, spic like smell . Oh my. All those forbidden, unfamiliar feelings that I have tried to deny surface and run amok through my drained body. I flush, and somewhere deep, deep down my muscles clench deliciously.
He rolls his eyes at me and takes my hand again and leads me to the bar. He's served immediately, no waiting for Mr. Control-Freak Bane . Does everything come so easily to him? I can't hear what he orders. He hands me a very large glass of iced water.
"Drink," he shouts his order at me.
The moving lights are twisting and turning in time to the music casting strange colored light and shadows all over the bar and the clientele. He's alternately green, blue, white, and a demonic red. He's watching me intently. I take a tentative sip.
"All of it," he shouts.
He's so overbearing. He runs his hand down his beautifully tanned face. He looks frustrated, angry even. What is his problem? Apart from a silly drunk male ringing him up in the middle of the night so he thinks the male needs rescuing, like some damsel in distress, And it turns out he does- from his over amorous friend. Then seeing him getting violently ill at his feet. Oh Alec... are you ever going to live this down? My subconscious is figuratively tutting and glaring at me over his half moon specs. I sway slightly, and Magnus puts his hand on my shoulder to steady me.
I do as I'm told and drink the entire glass. It makes me feel queasy. Taking the glass from me, he places it on the bar. I notice through a blur what he's wearing; a loose purple linen shirt, snug jeans, all black sneakers, and a gold pinstriped jacket. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and I see a sprinkling of chains in the gap. In my groggy frame of mind, he looks yummy.
He takes my hand once more.- he's leading me onto the dance floor. Shit.
I do not dance. He can sense my reluctance, and under the colored lights, I can see his amused, slightly sardonic smile. He gives my hand a sharp tug, and I'm in his arms again, and he starts to move, taking me with him. Wow, he can dance, and I can't believe that I'm following him step for step, and not breaking his foot in the process. Maybe it's because I'm drunk that I can keep up? He's holding me tight against him, his body against mine... if he wasn't clutching me so tightly, I'm sure I would swoon at his feet. In the back of my mind, my mother's often-recited warning comes to me: Never trust a woman who can dance.
He moves us through the crowded throng of dancers to the other side of the dance floor, and we are beside Jace and Clary, Magnus 's friend. The music is pounding away, loud and leery, outside and inside my head. I gasp. Jace is making his moves. He's dancing his ass off, and he only ever does that if he likes someone . Really like someone . It means there'll be three of us for breakfast tomorrow morning.
Magnus leans over and shouts in Clary's ear. I cannot hear what he says. Clary looks average height for a woman, she has slim shoulders, curly red hair, and dark gleaming eyes. She looks vaguely familiar.
Clary grins, and pulls Jace into her arms, where he is more than happy to be...Even in my inebriated state, I am shocked. He's only just met her. He nods at whatever Clary says and grins at me and waves. Magnus propels us off the dance floor in double quick time.
But I never got to talk to him . Is he okay? I can see where things are heading for him and her. I need to do the safe sex lecture . In the back of my mind, I hope he reads one of the posters on the back of the toilet doors. My thoughts crash through my brain, fighting the drunk, fuzzy feeling. It's so warm in here, so loud, so colorful - too bright. My head begins to swim, oh no ... and I can feel the floor coming up to meet my face or so it feels.
The last thing I hear before I pass out in Magnus Bane 's arms is his harsh epithet.
"Fuck!"