Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Magnus’ skin was cold to the touch. 

Perhaps Alec was still overheated from the flush of battle, but he knew it was more than that: Magnus’ magic was low, dangerously so, and apparently a symptom of that was extreme cold. Cat had assured him that as long as he kept Magnus warm, the warlock should wake up in a few days, as well as ever; she hadn’t needed to add that if Magnus got too cold, things might not go so well. Magnus’ low temperature was induced by magical exhaustion, but he could still get hypothermia. 

Alec ignored the discomfort of the too-cool skin as he climbed into bed beside where he’d set Magnus down. He was warm — it was the middle of June, after all — but he pulled the blankets over them anyway. They were both in boxers, for maximum skin contact and heat transfer, and Alec wrapped his arms tightly around his husband.

He didn’t flinch away from the temperature — not only was it his job as Magnus’ husband to help him, but it was Alec’s fault he was in this state at all. 

They’d been fighting demons, Alec keeping them from leaving the alleyway and attacking mundanes while Magnus closed the rift. Once it was shut, Alec had jumped down to fight on the ground; a demon had got in a lucky hit, but Alec barely had time to feel the pain before a burst of brilliant magic had killed every demon in the alleyway and healed Alec, all in one. The burst of magic, especially following a difficult battle, had exhausted him; he’d collapsed just as Alec had reached his side. They hadn’t been far from the loft, so Alec had carried him home before calling Cat. 

And here they were. Magnus, freezing cold and unconscious; Alec, doing all he could to warm him up. 

If only he’d dodged that demon, or stayed up on the rooftop. He knew, logically speaking, that using all his magic to kill the demons was Magnus’ choice and not his, but that didn’t prevent him from regretting that he’d put Magnus in that situation. Perhaps he hadn’t consciously chosen to, but he’s known that Magnus would be willing to use all his magic to protect him, and he’d still put himself in danger. His guilt wasn’t entirely irrational, and that was fuel enough for it. 

~

Twenty-four hours passed. Alec asked Izzy to cover for him at the Institute; he could’ve gone in — Catarina was capable of keeping Magnus warm as well as he could — but he hadn’t wanted to leave Magnus’ side. 

His husband was still cold, though his temperature had finally stopped dropping after the first harrowing six hours. Alec had left him only to go to the washroom and eat, though it had been Cat who’d told him to do the latter. (Alec might have refused, but she’d added that he produced less body heat when under-nourished.)

Magnus hadn’t woken up. Alec had watched him, in the hours he’d spent lying awake beside him, Magnus’ too-cool skin the only alleviation to the heat under the blankets, but Magnus hadn’t twitched. Cat had claimed it wasn’t unexpected, but she’d clearly still been worried; Alec had returned to their bed, and held Magnus closer. 

Izzy and Jace dropped in to check up on Magnus (twenty-three hours and twelve minutes after Magnus had fallen unconscious; Alec couldn’t help keeping track), but thanks to handling all Alec’s duties as well as their own, they’d had little time to chat. Alec had told them what was going on, they’d hugged him and assured him that Magnus would be alright soon enough, and then they’d left. 

Magnus remained still, his steady heartbeat under Alec’s palm and the gentle puffs of breath the only sign that he was still alive. 

~

Two days after the battle — specifically, forty-five hours and twenty-six minutes after — Magnus’ temperature rose a degree before stalling again. 

He still didn’t wake up. 

Alec had taken to talking to him as they lay curled up together. Telling him he loved him, asking him to wake up, sometimes just rambling about anything and everything that came into his head — anything to take his mind off of the guilt, the anxiety. 

Thirty-six hours and forty-two minutes in, he’d thought of kissing him. That always worked in the storybooks, didn’t it? True love’s kiss, to break the spell. Magnus had told him once that kisses sometimes did have magical properties; wasn’t Magnus’ cold magically induced?

Nothing had come of it, of course. Magnus hadn’t moved, lips cool beneath Alec’s touch. It wasn’t as though Alec had been expecting him to — it was just magical exhaustion, if a more severe case than Alec had seen before; if kissing magically exhausted warlocks helped them, somebody would’ve figured it out already. 

It still left Alec feeling useless, when Magnus remained unconscious. 

Aside from holding his husband, there was nothing that he could do. He wasn’t a warlock like Catarina, with spells and potions that would help Magnus improve; he couldn’t share strength with Magnus, because Magnus needed to be the one to instigate the bond, and he was — of course — unconscious. All that Alec was good for was warming Magnus up, which anyone else could’ve done just as well, if not better — Magnus always complained, laughingly, about Alec’s cold feet and tendency to leach the warmth from Magnus’ skin. Normally that wasn’t a problem; warlocks tended to run hot due to the magic in their veins, which perhaps explained why they cooled down when exhausted, and Alec’s low average temperature evened out Magnus’ high one. 

Now, though, it only made Alec more pointless. Obsolete. Irrelevant. 

He wrapped his arms around Magnus, face buried in his husband’s shoulder, and waited for him to wake up.

Chapter Text

The demon’s claw pierced Alec’s shoulder. 

Magnus wanted to step forward, to help, but he couldn’t move — his magic wasn’t working, and he could do nothing but stare, horrified, as Alec stumbled back — another demon attacked, and another, piling up until Magnus couldn’t see his husband—

And then the image changed, and Magnus was still helpless, still frozen, but now Alec was bleeding out from an arrow in the chest — lying immobile on a white surface, a tomb, Nephilim mourning white draped over and around him — blood on the ground, dripping — Magnus looked up to see a figure hanging from the ceiling of the barn, a woman, his mother — somebody was pushing Magnus’ head underwater, and he couldn’t breathe, and he lashed out, gulping in air only to see Alec burning—

Magnus, wake up, Alec seemed to be saying, but that couldn’t be right; the world spun, and it was Asmodeus, chuckling, golden eyes bright — Camille, laughing — Ragnor, dying — Alec dying again, and then again—

Wake up, Alec repeated, more insistently; Magnus wanted to reach for him, but he was gone, an empty dark place surrounded Magnus and faces were looming out of it — he wanted Alec, wanted to see him again, hold him—

Magnus, please, and this time Magnus reached harder for the surface, for Alec’s beautiful voice—

Magnus sat up, gasping. 

Alec was beside him, holding his shoulder, and Magnus didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around his husband. “Alexander — what—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Alec said soothingly.  “You’re alright, I’m alright, I promise.”

“The battle — the demons — they—” Magnus’ words tumbled over each other, still confused from all that he’d seen — nightmares, hallucinations. What had happened?

“I’m fine, it was barely a scratch. You healed it and killed every demon there, it’s alright.” Alec rubbed circles on Magnus’ back, calming him. “Knocked you out for five days, though. Please don’t do that again.”

“Five days?”

“Well.” Alec shrugged. “Technically, it’s only been four days, eighteen hours, and fifty-two minutes, but — yeah. You really used up a lot of magic, Magnus. You were freezing cold for the first three and a half days, and then you were feverish and delirious — Cat was worried.” He shrugged again, voice quieting slightly. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” If Alec had been unconscious for five days — Magnus hadn’t wanted to put him through all that. But still — “You were hurt—”

“Magnus, I’d much rather finish a battle with a sore shoulder than have you kill yourself trying to protect me,” Alec told him. “Please, just — don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” Magnus said softly. Alec had looked terrified, and he never wanted to put that expression on his husband’s face again. “I can’t promise I’ll never do this again, but — I’ll try.”

Alec smiled, and leaned in to kiss him.