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“Oh my God, Andy, can’t you keep your room clean for once in your life?” A very annoyed voice penetrated the silence of the room, followed by an excessively loud push of curtains. Andrew just groaned and turned the other way, blocking his sensitive eyes from the bright morning rays now shining down on him.
“By the Angel, Lia, can you not storm in my room every time you come for a visit?” He mimicked her tone, but there was a smile creeping on his face. “It is my day off, leave me be for an hour or two.”
“No way. It’s 9 already. I’m not letting you hug that blanket for a second longer. It’s not every day your sister comes to New York, so be glad and get up! I am here only for the day and I don’t want to miss a minute of it!” She patted him with a little too much strength, which caused him to flinch in surprise and he finally popped his eyes open, sitting up.
“I hate you, you overexcited, aggressive chihuahua,” he greeted with a mock-smile.
Her face lit up, “I love you too, you grumpy ragamuffin.” She leaned in for a kiss on his cheek and then sprang up. “I’ll go greet the others. 10 minutes.”
Andrew heard the sound of a door closing, the room falling into a blissful silence once again. He flopped back on the pillows to revel in it just for a moment before scanning the room. It was a mess, Dahlia was right. Littered with wrapping papers and tags - the remnants of last week’s late-night adventures of gift browsing. He was tired beyond compare and he was constantly sporting a migraine because of, to quote his sister, “excessive efforts”. Then again, she might have been partially right to say that. To acknowledge the entirety of her rightfulness when she wouldn’t let him live it down, ever? Andrew was not that stupid. He looked pensively at the floor again. Most items he had purchased during that hell of a treasure hunt were not up to his standards, which meant they most definitely wouldn’t be up to his date’s. And some of them, bought on impulse, Andrew vowed would never see the light of day.
***
A pair of pants, a shirt and a handful of gel for his curls later, he was marching down the hallway of the Institute. It’s a Saturday, Andrew had to remind himself, marvelling at the loud thump of his footsteps across the tiles, rebounding from the dimly lit walls. One of the reasons Andrew liked his job was the dynamic, a constant shift of events that never let a Shadowhunter become distracted from their task. Their work was meticulous. It always fascinated him, the discipline, the beauty in the roughness, the pride that would beam from the old, retired Shadowhunters, who had spent years fighting for peace in the Shadow World, only to now make a solemn appearance at galas. Their backs would still be as straight as a bowstring, their steps sure, their magnetic energy, radiating from keen eyes, still pulling everyone around them.
Ever since these first meetings with the prestigious Shadowhunters, Andrew knew he wanted such a future; he wanted to become better, to climb the ranks, and join the elite. Back then, it was impossible because membership in the latter was determined by one thing Andrew didn’t have and would never have - a pristine, old bloodline. Generations of perfect offspring and hard work that ultimately lead to renown respect. Andrew longed for that, and he fought for it, despite knowing that traditions were the cornerstone of their race.
He flew through the OPs Centre, almost bumping headfirst into a monitor, which he swiftly dodged at the last second. He did not, however, manage to dodge the sharpness of a desk edge that left a scrape on his left hip. He cursed under his nose, mumbling something about wrong utilization of space, when a laugh followed by a mane of long, sandy curls emerged from the entrance to his right. A second throaty laugh and the sound of heels joined the first one and Andrew turned his head to curse again, seeing raven hair flow around a wine pencil dress next to the nimble figure of his sister, who was now grinning mischievously.
Checkmate, Andrew thought. Dahlia was playing dirty, appealing to his boss. He was contemplating on possible revenge, currently split between hiring a Warlock to redesign her highly-functional apartment in Anderlecht or bribe the Brussels Institute to send her on a mission in Haiti (for an undefined length of time), when Isabelle stopped next to him.
“Andrew, you never told me you had a sister. She is a sweetheart, how come you have never invited her here?”
“...’cause she tends to overstay her welcome,” he muttered, for which he was rewarded with a nudge in the ribs.
The comment did visibly nothing to darken Dahlia’s mood. “It’s not personal. He doesn’t like to talk about family that much.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know,” Isabelle winked. The warm hug she embraced Dahlia in screamed years of friendship rather than ‘We met 10 minutes ago.’ “It was a pleasure, Dahlia, do come again if you have the time. I’ll gladly spare an hour or two, I miss girl time either way.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. Hmm, might as well, he stepped lightly sideways, ready to run through the first door he saw, when his sister grabbed him by the arm. “Good try. Now, let’s go for breakfast. I haven’t had a proper American cinnamon roll in forever.” She linked her arm with his and he fell in step with her towards the exit.
Isabelle barely managed to suppress her smile and waved them goodbye.
***
Stuffing her face with a bun, Dahlia closed her eyes contently, savoring the taste of the classic caloric bomb.
“Can you moan a bit less loudly? People are watching and it looks inappropriate” Andrew nagged at her. He was never that good with mundanes and their curiosity for unconventional behaviour. His sister, on the other hand…
“First of all,” she swallowed a bite, “there is nothing wrong with enjoying food. And second, you should learn to have fun, Andy.” She turned her attention to the plate before her once more.
Andrew bowed his head “I can have fun. Just not around you. Why did you insist on going out unglamoured anyway?”
She looked at him, chewing slowly. “Because,” they simultaneously raised their mugs to take a sip of the freshly-brewed coffee, “it obviously makes you uncomfortable and you need to become better at social interactions, and we both know that will happen only if I’m breathing down your neck,” she finished with conviction.
Andrew couldn’t deny it, really. He just sometimes wished she wasn’t so….radical about it. She could let him do the thing at his own pace. Well, at least there isn’t an agenda behind it, so that is a saving grace, right?
“...practice for asking out someone.”
It took Andrew two second to realize what Dahlia was saying and to appreciate the irony of the thought before that. He grimaced bitterly to himself, but his face was red. He was hoping to hide it from his sister, but she had seen him already.
“Oh, so there is someone? Or someone special?” she teased with an eyebrow wiggle.
Andrew pressed his hand over his forehead in defeat. “Geez, Lia, you’ll be the end of me. Give me a break.”
She laughed with glee. “No chance, little bro. I have only a couple of hours, I want it all.”
“For the starved attention seekers, Alexander Bell has invented the telephone. Might want to look into that, it has proven to be quite useful,” he replied, struggling to keep a serious face.
Dahlia scoffed. “Lies. You never pick up your phone.” Then she gave up as well, sighing “Come on, Andy, I haven’t seen you in months.”
He shuffled into his seat. “I know you don’t mean to pry just for the sake of it. I know you genuinely care, it’s just...” he couldn’t find the words to finish so he left hanging. She lightly squeezed his hand as an act of support. He looked at her open and honest eyes and he felt the barriers crack. For the first time since the official declaration of the Lightwood-Banes, he truly felt he could share. Until then, he’d kept private as much as possible. Despite the wedding, he was still closed off, and old habits die hard.
He took a deep breath. “I~... have found a person, we met each other at the wedding of the current Inquisitor, Alexander Lightwood and the High Warlock of Alicante, Magnus Bane.”
Her jaw almost dropped in surprise, but she restrained herself before showing too much emotion. Her features showed the slightest of pain as she calculated the months since the event. Guilt washed over Andrew, realizing he hadn’t really talked to his sister about his personal life in.... a long while. She deserved more. So, he made a decision to tell her everything. He sighed deeply, regaining the strength of will to phrase his story delicately:
“It was a marvellous night, but I think what impressed me the most was the acceptance. It doesn’t matter who or what you are, you feel like you belong, you know.” He caught a glimpse of Dahlia to see if there was any visible reaction, but her features were scrunched in serious concentration. "I got introduced, well, actually, this person introduced themselves to me…" another glance but his sister was patiently waiting for the whole story, committed to listening. Andrew decided to cut to the chase and just say it, "His name is Lorenzo Rey."
If there was the slightest widening in her eyes, Andrew pretended it hadn't happened. "Ever since then we have gone out when the time permitted it and, Lia, you have no idea… It’s as if my mind was unlocked that day, I have never thought I could fall in love with someone so different and simultaneously the same as me. At first, when you see other examples you think how this is an exception or a rare case considering our race’s history… But now, I'm not so sure anymore. I think we have yet to truly realise we haven't allowed ourselves to even see Downworlders as possible equals, let alone with affection." His sister's gaze was soft. She was smiling tenderly at him, captured by the intensity of the words. Not a long ago, he would have probably been worried about the responsibility, the continuation of the bloodline. Not anymore.
When he finally dared to meet his sister’s eyes again he was met with unadulterated love. She was proud of him. She didn’t care about him being gay. Andrew could sense she was about to talk a blue streak but she somehow restrained herself, barely. Clearing her throat, she settled for a simple question, “Does he make you happy?”
Andrew didn’t even think before answering, “Immensely. Despite the complications, he is understanding and patient, and everything I could possibly wish for, plus everything I had no idea I wished for.”
Dahlia tapped her chin thoughtfully. Andrew used the moment to ask for the bill while finishing his coffee.
It was after they had left the diner, that she exclaimed, “So that’s what the mess in your room was all about! Okay, spill the tea, right now!”
Andrew tried to go for a casual tone, but he turned a shade of red, noticing the few people watching them with interest. “If I tell you, will you please stop shouting?”
She just laughed, “You know, Andy, you are lucky I haven’t touched on anything else...”
He was sure his face had enough heat to fry an egg when he interrupted her, “No.”
***
Andrew was explaining the idea behind present #9 when they both felt a wave of energy crash into them. Without so much as a glance, they brought out their weapons and ran in the direction of its origin. Andrew activated his runes in motion and navigated through the streets while his sister followed above him. Her shadow jumped over the rooftops with blinding speed. Excitement bloomed in his chest. It had been a while since he went on a mission with Lia and though he would never admit it to her for obvious reasons, he missed it.
Eventually, they reached a warehouse on the docks and he stepped carefully around the door. As soon as he ventured into pitch-blackness, he readied his seraph blade. His sister stood on one of the ledges above with her crossbow, drawing the string. With enhanced vision he could discern the shape of a demon in the corner, feasting on bloody flesh. Andrew didn’t want to know whose body it was, or what it was, but his luck betrayed him when the monster adjusted its grip on the corpse and an arm flopped next to it on the cold concrete. It was covered in runes.
Anger flamed in Andrew and it threatened to throw him off-balance, tempting him to rush forward without a plan. Fortunately, his sister attacked before him, sensing his strong emotions. Her bolt found its mark, piercing the black, rotten flesh in the shoulder, a bit above the heart.
The demon dropped the body, howling loudly in pain. It turned around, its bones dragging on the floor and thick, red blood, dripping out of its claws. Where the blood ended, raw black flesh started. Every trudge the creature took echoed through the warehouse. Its face was all bones and holes - for the eyes and the mouth that was open in something between a smile and a grimace. It was decomposing, but Andrew could see that the blood it had consumed was keeping it alive. It lunged forward, screaming in a language he could not understand. He dodged out of its way, while his sister was shooting bolt after bolt, which caused the demon to change its focus to her, fixing its empty eye sockets on her.
“Lia!” Andrew shouted, using the advantage of the exposed back. “Arathiel!” His voice boomed and the shining blade popped from the hilt, stabbing the demon mercilessly in the chest. Andrew allowed himself to draw a breath of relief, knowing it would return to Edom any moment now. But it didn’t. It just screamed again and whipped its arm around menacingly, which caught Andrew unprepared and he flew to the centre of the room, clutching his abdomen.
He heard his sister distorted, the tingling in his ears too loud. The monster approached him, expiring a poisonous breath. Andrew groped blindly for his seraph blade but he couldn’t reach it. He settled for rolling to the right of the blow that was directed at him. When he was out of the danger of imminent death, he spotted his weapon next to Lia, who nodded following his gaze. She grabbed it hastily, shooting two more bolts in different spots in the body and joined her brother in the middle of the room, handing him the blade.
“You alright, little bro?” She asked, a bit breathless, but keeping her battle stance, not even a strand of hair touched on her. Andrew was glad she wasn’t hurt.
He coughed before answering, “Mostly. What the hell is that thing? I’ve never seen a demon like that in my life.” He fell into a stance as well, gripping the seraph blade. “If we cannot banish it back to Edom how are we supposed to…?”
He got interrupted by a blast that tore off the demon’s arm straight from the joint, resulting in a deafening screech.
“Mind if I join the party?”
Andrew stopped in his tracks. There is no way he could ever mistake that accent or the natural confidence that came with it. Lorenzo Rey, High Warlock of Brooklyn, and his boyfriend.
***
With combined slashing, piercing and blasting, they had the high ground and the demon vanished in seconds, too damaged to regenerate anymore. Andrew stood in awe, staring at an unimpressed Lorenzo, his brain cogs working so intensely they threatened to malfunction. After a while, he cleared his throat, his voice measured, “Ren, did you follow us here?”
Lorenzo plastered a look of surprise on his face “Whatever gave you that impression? I received a call two days ago about a stray Sorbere demon in downtown, wreaking havoc. I’ve been tracking it down since then, but I always ended up hitting a dead end. It was as if it could sense my magic from far away.” He finished his explanation, “It is a pure coincidence.”
Andrew squinted his eyes but said nothing. However, he did keep a mental note of the prospect of the Warlock having been on their tail. By the Angel! Was it possible he had overheard something…?
Dahlia picked out her arrows from the ground and scampered to the pair, “Lorenzo Rey. I’ve heard a lot about you from Andy.” She extended her hand respectfully.
He took it in a firm handshake, “Funny, I can’t say the same. Must be something about Andrew’s lack of interest in sharing just about anything about his personal life.” He shot his boyfriend a judgemental look. Then he turned towards Dahlia, intrigued, “Blonde hair, blue eyes, pointy chin. Genetics must run strong in the family. Sister?”
She laughed, putting away her crossbow, “Half-sister. Same dad.” She leaned her arm over a still stunned Andrew. “I am Dahlia Underhill.” She glanced at her watch and added “Aaaand, that’s my cue. My friend is going to kill me if I miss his party again. It was fun hanging out, Andy, come visit me in Brussels next time.” She placed a quick kiss on his burning cheek.
His stiff body melted in her embrace, “Thank you, Lia.”
“Do you need a portal, Ms. Underhill?” Lorenzo asked, gold mist already emanating from his palms.
“No need for that. I’ve secured my transport.” She answered distractedly while typing on her phone. A second later a portal appeared next to her and she beamed, “Thank you for the help, Mr. Rey. I hope we see each other again. Oh, and happy anniversary!” She stepped through the opening, not waiting for a reply.
***
Andrew was back at square one with only two hours to go, rummaging through boxes in his bedroom, becoming desperate with every passing minute. He took a shower, did his hair, even picked out his clothes for the evening. And the pile was still there, mocking him and his indecisiveness. He heard a chime and took out his phone, glaring sharp daggers at the floor, when he saw a message pop up on his screen. He smiled, then grinned until his face hurt. The bane of his existence in wrapping paper forgotten, he dressed and left his room in a hurry. He made a mental note to send his sister the largest cinnamon roll they baked in New York.
***
For all of Andrew’s worries, the evening turned out perfect. The food was a palette of flavours, and the Shadowhunter couldn’t take his eyes off his host. Lorenzo looked ravishing in his tailored suit, his beard trimmed perfectly to the single hair, and his usual ponytail swapped for an elegant braid, which did things to Andrew. He imagined himself unbraiding it slowly, relishing the feeling of his boyfriend’s silky strands slipping through his fingers, letting it loose… He noticed the quirked eyebrow and the amused expression that met him, and not saying a word, he finished his champagne in two gulps and his meal just as fast. “It was delicious, Ren.”
Lorenzo looked like he was waiting for this exact remark because he replied smugly, “Glad you liked it. I do use that kitchen every now and then.”
Andrew snapped his head up. “Do you mean to say you have cooked all of this? Not… you know..” He waved his hand, imitating doing a spell.
Lorenzo chuckled lovingly at the gesture and said with pride, “Of course I did. Only the best for my Angel.” He took Andrew’s hand and placed a chaste kiss on top of it.
The Shadowhunter blushed uncontrollably. It was precisely these old-fashioned manners his boyfriend had, the little things usually no one could see, that threw his brain into overdrive. Though, if he had to be honest with himself, everything about Lorenzo made his brain short-circuit.
Lorenzo replaced his lips with a lace of fingers and asked, “Ready for your present?”
Andrew’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, “Wasn’t that my present?”
Lorenzo was almost too pleased with himself, “I appreciate the fact you value my actions so highly, Andrew, but no. This is your present. Happy anniversary, querido.” He clicked his free hand and the dishes vanished, giving way to a rectangular box, tied with a ribbon, the lid decorated with royal blue letters in sophisticated handwriting, spelling Andrew.
Inside there were small, equally small brown spheres with various decorations. Lorenzo moved around the table to sit next to his boyfriend, saying, “Family recipe. I thought you might have missed them.”
Lorenzo was right, Andrew did miss them. The taste of fine chocolate melting on his tongue reminded him of the happier part of his childhood, back when they used to make the dessert at least once a month. It almost brought tears to his eyes. He turned his head towards his Warlock, “You are something else, my love, you know that?”
Lorenzo smirked. “Oh, I know.”
Andrew rolled his eyes at Ren’s ridiculous response and erased the smirk with a passionate kiss that sparked hunger in both of them. Andrew got a hold of himself first, his brain casually reminding him about his own present, and it was his turn to smirk when Lorenzo chased the kiss when the Shadowhunter pulled back.
In a minute, Andrew came back from the living room, retrieving his gift from its spot he had left it earlier near the fireplace. He placed the small egg in the Warlock’s hands and waited. As they made contact, magic flared from Lorenzo’s palms and wrapped around the shell, making it crack repeatedly, until there was a big enough gap for a tiny head to emerge. Its elongated body and bat-like wings reflected the light of the candles in the room, its golden scales shone brightly like the sun. The creature squeed, rubbing its head in Lorenzo’s forearm and he petted it.
“I thought those were extinct,” he said suspiciously.
Andrew shook his head, “Not extinct, just very rare. Golden Draco occidentalis magnus are hatched only one time per 50 years.” He scratched the dragon under the chin. “Because of their value, they are widely hunted, which is why they hide in secluded mountain caves their whole lives.”
Lorenzo’s jaw dropped, “How do you know so much about them?”
“On one of her earliest missions my sister saved a dragon. Until then she didn’t even know they existed. Apparently, before the Angel Raziel, dragons were responsible for keeping the peace in the world. Legends say some of them got poisoned by the Eternal Darkness and gave birth to the first demons.” His eyes drifted to the fire in the living room. “The dragon bonded with her, and since then, she specialized in Draconology. When she told me she had found a golden egg today I couldn’t believe it.” As he said that the little dragon took off Lorenzo’s arm to stretch its wings and after a short flight, it returned for more attention from the Warlock, which he gladly gave. It squealed joyfully, occasionally letting out puffs of smoke and harmless flames in pleasure. “Though, I had no idea it would bind so fast to you. Usually, they are quite mistrustful creatures, they need time to develop a proper bond. On the other hand, I think I know why.” He smiled fondly at the sight in front of him.
“And why is that?”
“It’s because you are both beautiful,” he kissed Lorenzo’s hair, “generous,” another kiss on his cheek, “majestic,” Andrew’s lips touched his nose, “and born leaders.” He finally reached the Warlock’s mouth, where he placed a sweet kiss, emphasising the strength of his words.
Lorenzo was rarely left speechless, but since Andrew had stumbled into his life, this state had become somewhat of a usual occurrence. Inside a firm Shadowhunter shell, there was a priceless gem. It filled the Warlock’s heart with love he hadn’t felt in a while. It was enough to distract him. Smoothing a loose strand of Andrew’s hair, he turned around to refill their glasses. Andrew’s hazy eyes zeroed on the bow swinging on the end of the braid.
A golden silk bow. With ancient spell inscriptions. The same one Andrew had placed carefully in a box earlier, separating it from the rest of the disaster presents stacked in the corner of his desk and on the floor of his bedroom just a couple of blocks from Lorenzo’s mansion.
"Ren, how do you have this?"
The Warlock froze briefly, sobering up. He couldn’t keep a straight face anymore, so he shot Andrew a devilish smile and confidently strode over with the champagne. "It is a gift from my favourite Shadowhunter. He is adorable, but he can be a bit forgetful when packing sometimes." He kissed his cheek.
Andrew was sure his face was flaming for the n-th time that day. He was about to reply but Ren toasted their glasses up. His boyfriend looked at him over the rim and added, leaning to whisper in his ear, "I took the liberty of moving some of it to my bedroom. I shall wait for you there."
Andrew choked on his champagne as Lorenzo strolled gracefully towards the end of the apartment with the dragon on his shoulder - their combined glow lighting the hallway, and Andrew's heart.