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Alec opens the door to greet Magnus.
He’s beautiful, as always, heavy makeup making his eyes sharper than they should be, a dusting of glitter on his eyelids, a streak of defiant red in his hair that matches the red shirt he’s wearing. Alec doesn’t let his eyes dip down to Magnus’s chest, exposed by the mostly-unbuttoned shirt. He doesn’t have that right.
Perhaps he might have, if he hadn’t left on the day he’d been supposed to marry Lydia, if he hadn’t let Magnus be arrested. Perhaps, if he’d walked down that aisle and talked to Magnus, if he hadn’t simply stormed out without a thought for Magnus’s safety.
He wanted time to think, time to process. When he saw Magnus come striding into the hall, mere moments before he and Lydia put the Wedded Union rune on each other, he felt such an overwhelming surge of relief at this chance to not get married. At another opportunity to turn back.
That was when he knew that he couldn’t marry Lydia. She was great — a good Shadowhunter, who mostly agreed with him politics-wise, somebody who understood him, with whom he could gain the Institute he’d wanted his whole life. But she was a woman, and he’d never love her the way he was supposed to; he knew, then, that he couldn’t bear to give his life away like that.
But what he felt for Magnus — it was confusing, it was terrifying, and he didn’t know, couldn’t think, especially when Magnus was right there, looking like that. He couldn’t breathe when Magnus was in the room; he still can’t. He needed to get away, take a breath, process all the swirling emotions in his head, figure out what he’d done and what it meant and what he needed to do next. And all the Clave delegates were looking at him, with varying degrees of horror; looking at Magnus, too, with uniform expressions of disgust.
Of course, once he left, Maryse and the Clave delegates at Alec’s wedding descended on Magnus, and arrested him on ridiculous charges. By the time Alec had gotten back, certain that he wouldn’t be marrying Lydia and planning to go to Magnus’s and ask him for those drinks, Magnus himself was in the Institute’s holding cells, and Alec was barred from visiting him.
So really, it’s Alec’s own fault that Magnus looks at him guardedly, that there’s always a distance between them. He can’t blame anyone but himself.
“Come in,” Alec says, voice perfectly calm with months of practice. Ever since his derunement — another reason for Magnus to no longer want him — Magnus has been coming around once a month to put up wards around Alec’s house, as well as on Alec himself. Deruned Shadowhunters typically don’t last long in the mundane world; they’ve still got angel blood, so demons are attracted to them, but they don’t have the protection of runes and blades. Alec’s probably only alive because of Magnus; he’s not sure why Magnus does it, seeing as he has every right to hate him, unless it’s some misplaced sense of guilt about Alec’s derunement. Which is ridiculous. That was Alec’s choice, and Magnus’s imprisonment was his fault anyway.
(Alec spends his time trying to get a mundane high school diploma — English class is easy, because of all the mundane classics he read in secret while still a Shadowhunter as well as the courses on public speaking that he took; science is fine, thanks to Izzy’s influence; but he’s woefully ignorant of much of mundane history and he’s never had to do anything even remotely resembling trigonometry. As a Shadowhunter, there was simply no need for it. Still, he’s figuring it out, taking online courses under assumed names. He needs the diploma; it’s necessary for almost any mundane job, and he can’t survive forever on the money he managed to take with him when he left. He’s getting some money from teaching self-defence and archery at a nearby gym, though he hates the way he can’t shoot quite as fast, quite as far, as he could with his runes. The mundanes are nevertheless impressed. He’s getting better at ignoring his lack of skill, at least, and he likes teaching self-defence. His life isn’t — this isn’t at all what he thought it would be, but though he regrets leaving Magnus alone to get arrested, regrets proposing to Lydia at all, he doesn’t regret any of his choices after that. And his life is still, could still be, fulfilling; he’s not happy, not when Magnus hates him and there’s a hole in his soul where Jace should be and every motion reminds him that he doesn’t have his runes any longer, but he knows that eventually, he might be able to get there. Might be satisfied, at least, if he gets that high school diploma, maybe takes some creative writing classes at a university, he’s always wanted to write a book. He’ll be okay, even if it aches every time Magnus doesn’t look at him.)
Magnus sweeps past him, graceful as always, not sparing him a glance. In the middle of Alec’s living room, he closes his eyes, holding his arms out to either side as blue sparks dance around his fingertips. Alec loves watching him use magic, the easy grace, the sheer power at his fingertips. It’s incredibly attractive, though Alec tries not to think about that too much.
Alec’s careful not to stare, though, in case Magnus notices, so he eyes the floor until Magnus is done, and then he stands still, eyes closed, while Magnus’s magic dances whisper-soft across his skin, refreshing the wards on Alec himself. He’s learned not to react to the feeling, lovely as it is, but he can’t help mourning the loss when Magnus’s magic dies away.
Then he turns around, ready to escort Magnus out.
Magnus, though, doesn’t follow him. “Alec?”
There’s an odd hesitance in Magnus’s voice, and Alec turns back toward him. “Yes?”
“I want to ask you — I just realized I’ve never asked, I thought it was insensitive, but…” He hesitates, irresolute, and Alec waits. “Why were you deruned?”
Alec blinks at him for a moment, taken completely off guard. Of all the questions — “What do you mean?”
“I mean, can you tell me exactly why you were deruned.” Magnus’s voice is slightly stronger now, more certain.
“I — but do you not know—” Alec cuts himself off, still blinking at him. “How did you think you got released from the Institute prisons?”
It’s apparently Magnus’s turn to blink at him in silence. “I mean — I assumed there weren’t really any charges,” he says slowly. “They ran out of reasons after a month.”
Alec lets out a slow breath, trying not to give in to the slowly-growing hope in his heart. Because if Magnus doesn’t know — no, he’s not going to think about that until he’s sure. Wait. Find out what Magnus thinks. (He still can’t stop the hope welling up in him, because if Magnus doesn’t know why Alec was deruned, then there was no reason for him to feel guilty about it, which means that he was keeping up the wards around Alec just for Alec’s sake. Maybe. Maybe he’s just being kind, maybe he’s just soft-hearted that way — or maybe there’s just the faintest chance that Magnus still cares. Alec can’t think about that, though, so he begins to explain.) “You were charged with disrupting a divine ceremony in service of the Angel, as well as counts of illegal magical mind alteration and trespassing on holy ground.”
All serious concerns, for Shadowhunters, especially when it’s a Downworlder doing it. Weddings are considered in service of the angel because they bring more children, to boost the Shadowhunter population; it didn’t take much twisting to say that Magnus “disrupted” it, which makes Magnus crashing Alec’s wedding into a crime punishable with death — supposedly for anyone, but it really only happens to Downworlders. The illegal magical mind alteration was a suggestion of Maryse’s; they might have been able to prove that Alec had been acting of his own accord, but it would’ve been difficult, because only another warlock could prove Magnus innocent, and warlocks are considered inherently untrustworthy. Trespassing on holy ground essentially only applies to Downworlders, because Shadowhunters aren’t considered to be trespassing in Institutes; it’s a completely ridiculous law, but it stands, and they could absolutely have convicted Magnus on all three counts. The punishment would have been death.
Magnus knows this as well as Alec does, judging by the way his lips part, eyes widening. Alec doesn’t give him a chance to say anything, though.
“By the time I got back, the Inquisitor was here, and they’d already held the trial — in absentia, because you were considered too dangerous to be present, seeing as you’d supposedly brainwashed me. I wasn’t told about it, thanks again to the brainwashing. You’d been convicted.”
A sharp inhalation from Magnus, but Alec needs to finish, to explain. “I could’ve appealed it, but my testimony was suspect anyway, they’re too prejudiced to give you a fair trial, and the first charge was technically true — there was no chance that they’d acquit you. So I used in locum criminis.” The law is old, older than anyone can remember. In locum criminis allows a Shadowhunter to take on the crimes of somebody else, and suffer the punishment in their stead. It’s outdated, and almost never used anymore — it’s probably never been used for a Downworlder, though there’s no stipulation against it. It likely never even occurred to the people who’d written the law that a Shadowhunter might be willing to do that for a Downworlder.
Magnus clearly recognizes the phrase, if his widened eyes and slack jaw are any indication. It makes sense — he’s centuries old, after all, and he was probably alive back when the law was used more frequently.
Alec keeps going. “We called in a warlock to check my mind for magical influence — Lorenzo Rey, apparently he hates you so the Inquisitor was pretty sure that he was telling the truth — so that cleared up one charge. For the trespassing charge, Izzy pointed out that since she’d sent you an invite, you weren’t really trespassing. We couldn’t do much about the first charge except point out how idiotic it was. You would have been killed, but the Lightwoods still have some sway in Idris, and Lydia helped defend me, so my sentence was only deruning. I was deruned the day before you were released. You showed up at my door a month later, offering to ward this place, and — here we are.” Alec swallows, raising his head to meet Magnus’s eyes, waiting to see what Magnus says. He doesn’t think he’s ever talked so much in one go, the words spilling out in a desperate bid to make Magnus understand, an attempt to fight for the love he’d thought he’d lost.
“Why?” Magnus asks, face unreadable.
“Because…” Alec hesitates slightly. “Because it was unfair, you didn’t do anything wrong. Because it’s ridiculous to condemn you to death for that. Because I knew that I’d get a lighter sentence than you would’ve. Because it was my fault you were there in the first place.” He swallows. “Because I — I lo— I care about you, and I didn’t want you to die.” He hopes Magnus doesn’t notice his slip-up; it’s probably a bit too soon to be dropping the L-word, especially when he’s still not sure if Magnus hates him or not.
“But…” Magnus’s facade is starting to crack, emotions showing through the gaps, hope shining in his eyes. He’s trying to hold it back. “You — you left. Rejected me. At the wedding, I mean.” Magnus is normally so smooth, so eloquent, words coming easily to the tip of his tongue, and yet he’s stuttering now.
“I left so that I could think, Magnus, I didn’t mean that like a rejection,” Alec says, desperate to make it clear what he meant. “That was the biggest mistake of my life, leaving you there — it never even crossed my mind that they’d just arrest you — I didn’t want my first kiss, our first kiss, to be in the middle of my wedding reception to another woman. I wanted a chance to figure out what it meant, and I wanted to get away from all the Clave delegates staring at you like you were no more than dirt on the bottom of their shoes — Angel, Magnus, I swear I didn’t mean to reject you. I’d been planning to go to your loft and ask you for drinks when I found out you’d been arrested.”
Magnus swallows, lifting a hand to cup the side of Alec’s face. “You gave up your runes — for me?” It comes out as a question more than a statement, like Magnus is still unsure, and Alec wants to kiss away that insecurity.
“Yes,” he says instead, infusing all his certainty into his words. “Yes, and I’d do it again if we were in the same situation. Magnus, I — I know I hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that, I never meant to, I lo— care about you. I know I haven’t treated you like that, I was horrible to you before the wedding, I’m sorry about that too. I just — Angel, I’m so sorry.” He thinks he might’ve kept going if Magnus hadn’t held a finger up to his lips, shushing him gently, like he’d done all those months ago.
There’re a million sunrises in Magnus’s smile. “I care about you too, Alexander. And you’re forgiven.”
Alec can feel a tentative smile curling up his own lips, laughter at the way they’ve been pointlessly dancing around each other for months welling up in him. Magnus had spent all this time thinking that Alec had rejected him, thinking that Alec had let him be arrested, maybe even wanted him to spend that month in the Institute’s cells; and all the while, Alec had been assuming that Magnus wanted nothing more to do with him, that he hated him, even, that he was only keeping up the wards out of a sense of guilt. They’d put both themselves and each other through such needless pain.
He still needs to confirm, though, to know that Magnus wants the same things as he does. Sure, Magnus cares about him, but does that mean he still wants to date Alec? “If — if your offer still stands — would you like to get drinks sometime?”
Magnus smiles even brighter than before, and Alec thinks that he wouldn’t mind standing still in this moment for an eternity. “I’d love to get drinks with you, Alexander.”
“I didn’t think I’d hear you say my name like that again,” Alec blurts out, a blush climbing up his cheeks. There’s a shiver running down his spine at the sound of his full name in Magnus’s voice, the name that he hates whenever anyone but Magnus says it, the name he loves hearing on Magnus’s lips.
“Alexander,” Magnus says again, thumb tracing circles on Alec’s cheekbone, and Alec turns his face slightly to nuzzle Magnus’s hand. They’re closer together now, toes nearly touching, Magnus’s face only a few inches away. Alec can’t help leaning closer.
“Can I kiss you?” Magnus asks, breath brushing Alec’s face, head tilted up to look at him. His eyes are wide with love, with desire, and Alec knows the same feelings are reflected back in his own eyes as he leans down just a little to connect their lips.
Magnus kisses him gently, almost tentatively, but Alec won’t have that; he pulls Magnus closer with a hand on his hip, the other hand curling around Magnus’s face, wanting to extinguish the infinitesimal distance between them. Magnus holds him closer, too, fingers buried in the hair at the nape of Alec’s neck, as they kiss like they’re drowning and the other one is the air they need to breathe.
Months of waiting, of uncertainty, of pain, of the sting of rejection, of falling in love despite the heartache — this is what Alec’s been waiting for, and it’s better than anything, Magnus’s lips on his impossibly soft. He smells like sandalwood and the sharp tang of magic, like a dream come true, like everything Alec’s always wanted and for so long believed he could never have.
Eventually, Alec has to come up for air, pulling back just enough to breathe. His forehead’s still resting against Magnus’s, lips barely centimeters apart, both of them smiling.
“I love you,” Magnus says, soft and certain.
“I love you, too,” Alec returns immediately, the words coming to his lips as easily as breathing. Alec knows he’s probably got an idiotically besotted expression on his face, but he doesn’t care because Magnus loves him. The house could probably be blown to bits around them and he wouldn’t care, staring into Magnus’s eyes — gold-green, with slitted pupils. His warlock mark, glamour fallen, impossibly beautiful. A mark of Magnus’s demonic heritage, yes; but they’re more like a mark of power, of elegance, brilliant and gorgeous as the man himself.
Magnus is still smiling, like he can’t help it, and Alec knows that he’s probably in a similar state; they kiss again anyway, though it’s more like brushing lips, grinning too hard to kiss properly. Alec doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, joy bubbling up and seeming to permanently curve his lips up, happiness and love tangling together in his chest in an almost unbearable warmth. He doesn’t ever want to pull away from Magnus, could probably spend forever here, arms around his love.
It doesn’t seem like Magnus would be averse, either, holding him close and pressing kisses to Alec’s neck, his collarbone. He kisses the place where Alec’s deflect rune was, though no trace of it remains; Alec’s had a while to get used to the lack of runes, though, and he doesn’t flinch away from the reminder. If anything, he’s surprised and glad that Magnus clearly remembers the spot. Magnus tilts his head back, meeting Alec’s gaze, a soft question in his golden eyes — was that overstepping, should he not have reminded Alec of what he’d lost?
Alec shakes his head, leaning down to capture Magnus’s lips again, gently, warmly. “It’s alright. I love you.”
Magnus brightens again at that, an irrepressible smile immediately appearing on his face, and Alec can’t resist repeating the words — “I love you, Magnus, Angels above I love you, I love you, I love you so much.” The smile on Magnus’s face makes him look like he’s glowing, lit from within, and Alec can scarcely believe he’s lucky enough to love this man, to be loved by him in return.
“I love you, too.” Magnus seems almost incapable of saying anything else, those beautiful eyes brilliant with emotion that Alec knows is reflected in his own eyes.
“They’re beautiful, you know,” Alec says idly, thumb gently running circles on his cheekbone.
Magnus startles, though, eyes widening with something like fear, and suddenly his golden eyes are concealed beneath the glamour again. Magnus pulls back, shying away from Alec, tension blooming in his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I must’ve lost control—”
“Magnus,” Alec says, curling his fingers under his chin to tilt his head up. “Your eyes are beautiful. Please don’t hide them, not if you don’t want to — I mean, if you’re uncomfortable or something, obviously you can hide them, I just mean that I like them, they’re like liquid sunlight — they’re gorgeous —”
Magnus cuts him off with a kiss, effectively stopping Alec’s increasingly rambling words, and when he pulls back they’re breathing hard, and Magnus’s eyes are unglamoured again. “You are incredible, Alexander.” Magnus shakes his head, incredulous, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips. “I haven’t — most people don’t like my eyes. I wasn’t expecting you to — well. You were brought up as a Shadowhunter. I wouldn’t’ve blamed you if you’d hated them.”
“Only an idiot would dislike your eyes, Magnus,” Alec tells him. He rather wants to murder everyone who’s made Magnus think like that, everyone who’s taught him that his eyes are something to be ashamed of, but it’s more important to reassure Magnus. “They’re beautiful — I think I’ve said that before—”
“Once or twice,” Magnus says with a smile, and kisses him again. “I’m narcissistic enough not to tire of hearing it, though.”
“Now, about those drinks…”