Work Text:
Alec scrolls down Magnus’ Instagram feed. It’s a common distraction during boring Clave meetings by now. God, he hates the endless debates over basics that shouldn’t even need to be discussed.
He’s grateful for the days when Magnus is out and about, portalling around the world and sharing his day instead of tending to his clients, brewing potions or rebuilding the Institute’s wards. Not that Alec doesn’t find his handiwork just as beautiful as cherry tree blossoms, scones, or Mount Kilimanjaro — even more beautiful, maybe; he adores Magnus’ magic — but knowing that Magnus is having a great time with friends and chosen family around the globe always makes his heart light and his day easier.
He pushes his phone back into the pocket of his dress pants and lectures the other members of the conference about statistics regarding the New York Institute, a testing ground for better Shadow World cooperation. Not everyone sitting around the table is benevolent, so much is clear, but when papercut adds to papercut, Alec thinks of Magnus’ smile over his breakfast in his favourite restaurant in Tokyo or how he hugs Catarina on a bench in the park of Castle Sanssouci, relaxed, the sun caressing his face.
He could look at Magnus for hours, listen to him talk about old and new adventures, seeing him carefree and happy. It’s what keeps him going, not only because his work might change other nephilims’ hearts, but also because he hopes to leave behind a better world in which his husband can live without discrimination when Alec is long gone. He wants Magnus to smile on future Instagram photos, too. It’s why he allows Magnus to take selfies with him in the frame, even though he hates his picture to be taken under any other circumstances.
He finishes his speech with half of the attendees knocking their knuckles on the tabletop to show their support. Alec smiles brightly as if he’d gotten standing ovations. He’s getting better and better with diplomatic gestures and well-chosen words. He has to thank Magnus for that, the man’s calm considerations in any part of his life truly inspiring the best in Alec.
Alec takes a deep breath and tries to follow the speakers coming after him. He interjects when needed and appropriate, but soon enough, the elders are chewing on numbers that Alec could recite in his sleep, and he pulls out his phone again, checking for updates.
Magnus grins into the camera, a dab of whipped cream adorning the tip of his nose. By the Angels, Alec is so in love with him, it sometimes physically hurts.
The day progresses, more empty speeches and funny Instagram posts follow. Magnus changes his outfit at least four times, probably to distract his mundane followers from the fact he’s travelling all continents in a day. Alec smiles at the pictures, envying Catarina and Madzie a little for having the time to do this with his husband.
The day stretches like bubble gum, and when Alec finally makes it to the top of their building, he frowns at the door that doesn’t swing open as it usually does. Magnus’ magic always reaches out to him. It’s a familiar balm soothing over his skin after a long day at work.
Alec fishes for his keys and steps into a silent, dark apartment. He furrows his brow, all his senses narrowing down on signs of danger. There’s none bar the unusual quietness lying over the flat like heavy dew.
He walks through the loft, finding Magnus curled up in their bed. Alec can’t see his face under his unstyled hair. Still, he breathes a sigh of relief. Magnus is home—safe, tired, but all his.
Alec slips out of his clothes and under the covers, snuggling up to Magnus’ back.
“Are you awake, love?” he whispers. He doesn’t expect to hear a sob for an answer. “Magnus? What is it?” he asks, alarmed.
“Nothing,” Magnus croaks, not very believable.
“What happened?” Alec asks, panic rising in his chest. Did Magnus not portal straight home and ran into one of the Shadow World douchebags, who love to belittle the two of them? Did some mundane hurt him with a racial slur?
“Nothing, Alexander. It’s just that time of the year.”
Alec furrows his brow. “What time?”
Magnus rolls on his back, eyes puffy and rimmed red. The sight breaks Alec’s heart. He runs his hand through Magnus’ hair, brushes the strands out of his face.
Magnus smiles at him sadly. “I don’t know exactly when my mum died,” he says and trails off.
Alec’s face falls. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Magnus shrugs. “You’ve been busy.”
Alec breathes a sigh. “Magnus.” It’s all he can manage. He needs to trust that the emotions bound into his name are enough to transport what he feels.
Magnus cups Alec’s cheek and presses a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m fine. It was a long day.”
Alec thinks about all the pictures he saw on Magnus’ feed, the way he smiled and glowed. His husband is such a good actor.
“You never have to pretend how you feel,” Alec says like he did not even a year ago at Hunters’ Moon.
“I don’t. Not with you,” Magnus points out.
Alec nods and quirks a smile. “You don’t have to smile at the camera either.”
Magnus huffs a halfhearted laugh. “I had to. Or I’d have fallen too deeply, Alexander.”
“So, the whole continent hopping was a distraction?”
Magnus hums. “Never trust an Instagram post,” he murmurs as he nuzzles against Alec’s chest. “We only show what we want others to see.”
Alec tightens his arms around Magnus and presses a kiss into his hair.
“I love all the images of you,” he says.
“The new filter is awesome,” Magnus replies.
“That’s not what I meant,” Alec says, and Magnus snuggles even closer.
“I know,” the warlock says. “I know.”
They cuddle for a long while. “I’ve been to her grave before I picked up Madzie and Catarina and portalled us to Japan,” Magnus breaks the silence. “But I felt so lonely.”
Alec hums. “Wanna go there now? With me?”
“You had a long day, Alexander,” Magnus protests, being his ever sacrificing self.
Alec is having none of it. “But you’re worth it.”
Magnus chuckles quietly against his husband’s chest. “Okay. Just a few more minutes,” he says and presses his face against Alec’s neck.
“As long as you need, love. As long as you need.”