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As Magnus had promised, that day so very long ago when a blue-eyed Shadowhunter and his friends had waltzed into his apartment, there were no vampires at his party. The werewolves had begun bad rock music on his make-shift stage, and the fey seemed to enjoy leaving fairy dust all over the carpet. Honestly, he was surprised any of the fey had turned up, after all that had happened during the Dark War.
At least, though, the prima-donna vampires had stayed away.
Magnus felt eyes on him from across the room. He glanced up from his half-hearted conversation with Maia Roberts and caught his boyfriend's gaze. He shot Alec a flirtatious smirk. Alec, to his surprise, didn't blush—he merely sent him a lopsided grin, looked down, and took another swig of whatever bright purple drink he'd found, not pausing in his conversation with his sister, who was giggling without any shame.
"Oh, Angel," huffed an arrogant voice to Magnus' left. "Please tell me Alec isn't drunk."
Magnus turned around to glare at the blond Shadowhunter. Jace pulled Clary closer and sighed in despair. Magnus contemplated the advantages of turning him into a porcupine against the ultimate disadvantage of Alec being annoyed with him.
But Alec being annoyed with him meant no hot after-party sex, so, sadly, Herondale had to stay human. For the moment.
"He's not drunk. Besides, you've never been drunk, Nephilim?" Magnus snapped. "I seem to remember a rather embarrassing story about you streaking down the road wearing antlers."
Jace shrugged, and grinned apologetically. "Yeah, but if Alec did that he'd never look at anyone ever again. Besides, Alec is a really annoying drunk."
Maybe it really would be better for everyone if Magnus turned Jace into a porcupine. Or a duck. The irony of that idea wasn't lost on Magnus, so he filed the idea away for future blackmail material. God knew he'd probably need it. Jace was nothing but trouble.
To his relief, Clary dragged Jace away, and Magnus was left to listen to the conversation around him while his thoughts centred on Alec—as per usual. The crowd around the bar where Alec had been sitting obscured Magnus' view of him, but he looked over anyway, scanning for those enchanting blue eyes of his.
When the sea of people parted at just the right angle for Magnus to catch a flash of Alec, leaning against the bar with Isabelle (who did look drunk), a dark look covered his face. That werewolf stood far too close, and if his hand strayed any nearer to Alec's ass then Magnus swore he would—
The werewolf put the noose around his own neck: the back of his hand brushed against Alec's backside. The angle made it clear that it was not an accidental touch.
"Excuse me," Magnus said, eyes not straying from the scene playing out in front of him. He strode towards Alec as the werewolf leant in and said something to Alec and Isabelle. His eyes lingered on Alec far too long.
The flashing disco lights around the place made Isabelle's dress look like water—all translucent and shimmering and reflective and very, very short. The black boots curling up her legs complimented it well, Magnus thought.
"Alexander," Magnus said loudly as he approached the siblings. "I haven't seen you all day. You're not allowed to sit there and look at me and not come talk to me."
He shot the werewolf a fierce glare that he hoped seemed surreptitious but also forceful. If the full force of his angry cat eyes didn't get the idea across, he felt sure that the crackling blue sparks that leapt between his fingers would do the job.
Alec gave him a funny look, and tilted his head a little to one side. "You're pretty."
Magnus raised his eyebrows. Maybe Jace had been right, he admitted with great reluctance. Alec did appear to be drunk. "Thank you, darling. You look ravishing yourself."
And, frankly, he did. Either Isabelle had imposed her fashion advice on her poor brother, or, after three years, Magnus' continual comments had begun to give Alec an idea of which clothes made him look even more gorgeous than normal, and Alec had decided that, once in a blue moon, he'd indulge the warlock.
Those jeans... Magnus wished he could take a picture of how they hugged Alec's ass and pin it to his bedroom wall. Maybe he had a slight obsession with Alec's backside. And his shoulders. His shoulders under some of his jackets - especially the one he had on at the moment - were to die for. And those abs. He couldn't leave out his abs. And his soulful blue eyes, defined cheekbones, soft eyelashes...
And, well, really, everything.
Isabelle, without warning, bent over and giggled...and giggled...and giggled. Mystified, Magnus stared at her, while Alec continued to stare at him as though he were an entrancing enigma that needed solving by the end of the night.
"Izzy," came Simon's voice. "What— Jesus. What the—" Simon caught her by her shoulders as she fell sideways onto him, still giggling.
Magnus shot him a pained smile. "Thank you."
Simon pulled a face. His clothes were not only entirely inappropriate for one of the High Warlock of Brooklyn's parties, but his t-shirt also had one of those awful nerd captions about intellectual badasses. "Can you, like, shut down this thing now?"
Magnus opened his mouth to say that the party had barely begun, when a hand grabbed his bright red jacket. He looked down at Alec, who seemed to be sliding further and further down. Alec stared at him with imploring eyes, and nodded vigorously.
"What?" Magnus asked, frowning in confusion.
"I don't want to be at this party any more." Alec's grip shifted from his jacket to his tank-top. "I want to go. Can we go? Please please please?"
Magnus took Alec's hand and unwrapped his fingers, before kissing the back of it. "Alec, of course you can go. When have I ever had a problem with you going before my parties are over?" He smiled wryly. "When have you ever asked before leaving to kidnap my cat?"
Alec seemed to be having trouble processing Magnus' words. Possibly Magnus had overestimated how much he could say at a time to a drunk person. And possibly Alec was more drunk than Magnus had realised.
Magnus wrapped an arm around Alec's waist to pull him up. At least he didn't reek of alcohol. He clapped his hands together. "Party's over, everyone!" he said, flicking his fingers towards the door. "Time to go!"
Guests, including Alec's trouble-making friends, began to filter through the apartment to the door. Magnus watched them go, scanning for any lingering in the corners. Once satisfied that they'd gone, he shut the front door with a bang, and turned back to Alec.
Alec looked like he'd been bewitched; like Magnus was some kind of dream that would disperse and disappear unless he kept watching it. "Magnus?"
Magnus' lips twitched upwards in amusement. "Yes?"
"You're really pretty. Reeeeally pretty."
Magnus let out a laugh. "Come on. You're going to regret this in the morning."
He tugged Alec towards his bedroom, half worried that he'd fall over on the way there. Alec stumbled in, and fell onto the bed. He lay still for a minute, before rolling onto his back, eyes trained on Magnus.
Magnus sat down next to him. He looked so adorable, black hair rumpled and blue eyes shining, that Magnus couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him.
"Why did you stop?" Alec asked when Magnus pulled away.
"I'm not having sex with you when you're drunk," Magnus said firmly. He reached down to pull off Alec's boots—he didn't want grime all over his beautiful bed.
"Why?"
"Because you won't remember anything in the morning, and I pride myself on being memorable." Honestly, had Alec worn the same boots demon-hunting as he had to Magnus' party? Was that dried ichor on the soles? Did he need to drag the man out shopping to buy a new pair of shoes?
"Magnus?"
The warlock repressed a sigh. If Alec started to ask him lots of stupid drunk questions, he'd magic him to sleep, no matter how much he loved him. "Yes?"
"Do you hate me?"
Magnus' eyes widened in shock, and he searched Alec's face for clues as to where that had come from. "Of course not!" He laid long, bejewelled fingers along one pale cheek and ran his thumb over the defined cheekbone. "Alec, I love you. Why would you ask me that?"
Alec's nose scrunched up. "'S not what I meant. The holes. You don't like the holes."
Magnus dropped his hand and twined his fingers through Alec's. "Alec, what in the world—"
"Clothes." Alec's eyes unfocused and he stared into space. "Holes in clothes."
"Oh." Comprehension dawned on Magnus. "As you won't remember this conversation by tomorrow, I may as well admit it. I love your awful sweatshirts, holes and all."
Magnus wondered whether that was too complicated for Alec to be able to process in his very inebriated state, but Alec beamed. "Really?"
He grinned. "Really."
Alec scooted towards Magnus and crawled into his lap, straddling his hips. His hands slid to the warlock's hair, which was down. Magnus would have been lying if he said he didn't like the feeling of Alec playing with his hair.
"Magnus?"
He ran his fingertips over Alec's lips and smiled fondly. "Yes, Alec?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Alec paused. "Magnus?"
Magnus didn't reply—he merely quirked an eyebrow.
"Can I kiss you?"
He didn't reply to that, either. Mostly because Alec hadn't waited for a reply; he'd just surged too far forward, kissed Magnus forcefully and knocked them both backwards in the process. Magnus smiled into their kiss, and held his Shadowhunter close.
***
When Alec awoke the following morning, it was with a pounding headache and a vague recollection of the previous night. He remembered being out all day, having left Magnus early in the morning after a call from Jace, he remembered drinking with Isabelle, and he—
Alec frowned. That couldn't be right.
He could feel Magnus behind him, his warm breath hitting his neck, arm slung around his waist, holding him close, curled around him. Magnus often did that, Alec had noticed. Curl around him in bed, or when they were snuggled up on the couch. It was a strangely vulnerable thing for Magnus, and one which Alec found incredibly endearing.
"How much does your pretty little head hurt?" Magnus murmured.
Alec winced at the resulting throb. "A lot."
"Hm. Want coffee?"
Alec turned over so they were lying face-to-face. "That would be amazing. But I need to ask you something."
Magnus nodded.
"Did you admit last night that you like my sweaters?"
The split second of hesitation gave it away. Alec grinned victoriously.
"You're never letting this go, are you?" Magnus grumbled, shifting towards the edge of the bed.
Alec smirked. "Nope. And where are you going?"
"To make coffee."
Alec grabbed Magnus' arm. "Nuh-uh. I'm not done cuddling you yet. Besides, when do you make coffee? You summon coffee."
Magnus practically melted back into Alec's arms at the word 'cuddle', as Alec knew he would. He ignored the coffee comment. Alec didn't mind.
His head pounded, interrupting the comfort and contentment Alec felt wrapped up in bed with his warlock. He scowled.
"Magnus?"
"Mm-hm?"
"Remind me never to get drunk again."
Magnus laughed. "Why ever would I do that? You're an adorable drunk."
Alec didn't get a chance to reply, because his lips were suddenly busy with something far more interesting than talking, and Magnus was intent on getting that hot after-party sex he'd missed out on the previous night.