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It’s too soon.
Alec knows it, rationally.
You don’t go around marrying a man you met just three months ago, in the middle of a war, definitely not when your first kiss was during your own wedding to someone else, definitely not when that wedding was on a short notice, too.
Alec loves Magnus, loves him more than he can possibly put into words, and he knows, way too well, of all the people who claimed that they were ready to stay and who abandoned his boyfriend anyway.
He would rather cut off his own hand than do this wrong.
Alec is perfectly aware of all of that.
They even talk about it one night, closer to dawn than to midnight, curled up against each other on the balcony of Magnus’s loft.
They would love to get married.
They can’t, of course, since the Clave would probably collectively have an aneurysm (which Alec doesn’t really care about) and since the Clave wouldn’t respect their marriage (which Alec cares about a lot).
Alec supposes that knowing that the love of your life would love to marry you someday should be good enough for now.
It is good enough for now.
If only the universe agreed.
*
“C’mon Magnus, I know it’s outside your usual clientele, but we would really appreciate your help,” the warlock says, staring at Magnus with a mix of despair and hunger.
Alec wonders if he should leave. It seems private enough. On the other hand, he doesn’t like the idea of leaving his boyfriend alone with anyone who looks at him like that.
“I already told you I can’t do it,” Magnus answers, his voice somewhere between polite decline and annoyance.
“You could,” the other warlock insists. “You are perfect for it.” He looks at Alec, not bothering to hide his hunger. “You both are perfect for it.”
“And you are leaving now,” Magnus announces with finality, power radiating from him, and the warlock shrinks a little and he leaves the premises.
“I’m sorry you had to be here for it,” Magnus tells Alec then, the tiniest trace of uncertainty seeping into his voice, and Alec reaches out to cup his face.
He was horrified and disgusted when Magnus mentioned that the Shadowhunters used to hunt Downworlders for fun, but he thinks he would gladly hunt anyone who ever made Magnus feel like he wasn’t good enough, like he was too much, like he was going to be cast away at the smallest sign of minor inconveniences.
“Magnus, last week our date got interrupted because a Ravener demon followed me here and dropped into our dinner,” he points out easily, even though the memory still makes him flush in embarrassment. “Things like this happen and there was significantly less snarling and venom than when my work gets in the way. What was it about?”
The warlock sighs, relaxing into Alec’s touch - good, very good - and he blushes.
“The Spiral Labyrinth wanted to hear my opinion on a spell,” he admits. “Actually, they wanted me to redesign it, since it apparently doesn’t bring the wished… I mean. Tessa was able to locate a parchment with old spells some time ago. Really old spells. Making me look young.”
“You look amazing, always.”
“And you are a charmer. There was this spell that should… Create a soul bond between two people. On their wedding night. It’s very romantic, really. Very two souls becoming one. Except the wielder of the magic needs to be very powerful now. I assume it was created in times when the Greater Demons were able to get to the Earth much more often than they do now.”
Alec hums, listening with interest. He likes Magnus talking to him about magic, trusting him enough to do so, so judge him.
“And what do they want from you?” he asks.
Magnus wraps his arms tighter around him, leaning back on the sofa. It’s insanely comfortable and insanely domestic and Alec wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
“They want me to redesign the spell so that it keeps its properties but requires less power. No worries, my righteous Shadowhunter, it can only be used with the consent of both parties entering the soul bond.”
“Oh,” Alec says, relaxing. “Then why don’t you?”
Magnus goes still under him. “I would have to perform it to see how I can change it,” he answers.
Which… “Oh,” Alec says again.
“I won’t,” Magnus hurries to assure him, stumbling over his words in a very much not Magnus way. It makes Alec’s heart ache. “I would never- We talked about it and even if- you don’t need to worry, Alexander. I would never ask that of you.”
Alec knows he should probably feel relieved; the Clave would have a field day trying to prevent it and who even knows how such a spell would mix with Alec’s Nephilim blood.
“You can,” he whispers anyway, because it’s true. “If you want to. You know. Someday.” He presses a kiss to Magnus’s jaw, since he is not going to move, thank you very much. “I want all of you,” he continues. “If you are alright with a spell like that and you think it won’t kill me, I want it.”
It’s true, and it’s definitely worth it when Magnus melts underneath him and then Alec has to shift, and they are kissing, their bodies pressed against each other as though their souls are already trying to become one, and Alec could definitely live with that being true, someday.
Not now.
Now would be too soon.
*
"I just managed to grab a ride in a random summoning," the Fallen Angel standing in Alec’s fucking living room says. "These young warlocks… they never do the wards right. One just has to love them. No worries, I will be off your hair in a moment, after all, I only manage a stunt like that once or twice in a millennium. I just wanted to tell you I was on Earth. You know. If you wanted to do right by my son."
It takes Alec a while to understand. When he does, “I’m not having a Prince of Hell at my wedding,” he announces, which is not a sentence he has ever imagined himself uttering.
Said Prince of Hell actually has the audacity to look wounded.
“I can’t believe you would want to deny me,” he says.
Alec realises, belatedly, that he hasn’t even considered calling for backup, even though there is, in fact, a Prince of Hell walking the Earth freely.
A Prince of Hell that is also Alec’s future father-in-law, apparently.
A Prince of Hell that wants to come to their wedding.
Not that they have agreed upon having one, yet.
“I won’t let you hurt Magnus in any way,” Alec says. “And we both know you can do nothing but cause him pain. It’s not even about your intentions. It’s about who you are.”
“I love my son,” the demon spits at him. “Even though he won’t shut up about rainbows and kittens and butterflies.”
Chairman Meow hisses. Asmodeus turns to glare at the cat and that kind of wakes Alec up from his trance. He can’t let the demon hurt Chairman. It would break Magnus’s heart.
“Demons can’t love,” he says, hoping that his parabatai bond is screaming at Jace to get the fuck right here, right now. Ideally with a battalion of warlocks who can banish Asmodeus back to hell where he belongs.
Asmodeus sighs, but at least he stops looking at the tiny cat as though he wants to devour it.
“I can see why my son is so in love with you,” he tells Alec then. “You have my blessing. But if you ever hurt him…” He smiles, and it sends a shiver down Alec’s spine. “The Fates owe me enough to ensure your soul will find a way to Edom, no matter how many rituals your people attempt. You should remember that.”
He’s gone before Alec can even consider an answer.
“Was that Asmodeus?” Jace asks from the doorway, trying to catch his breath.
He must have been running all the way from the Institute.
Alec just sighs.
*
You have my blessing, Asmodeus said.
“So if we ever get married, my father plans to crash the wedding,” Magnus says when Alec tells him about it later that evening.
He’s been using all his magic to track Asmodeus ever since, to no success as of now. Alec isn’t exactly surprised; he doubts the demon wants to be found.
Alec doesn’t ask, would it really be that bad?
He doesn’t have to ask; it would be worse than bad.
He imagines himself explaining to the Clave that the Downworlder, that the man Alec wants to marry is also the eldest son of Lucifer’s second in command.
They wouldn’t even bother to strip him of his runes. They would just deem him absolutely crazy.
They would have Magnus executed, too.
“Take my strength,” Alec says out loud, standing up. “We’ll find him.”
*
“Mr Lightwood, we are calling you from Westbury Manor; as you know, it is very unexpected, but one of the couples cancelled their reservation and so we have a free slot available for you and Mr Bane next week if you are still considering the wedding,” the lady in his phone says.
Alec hangs up on her.
He also spends the next two hours yelling at his sister and wondering at how many other places did she register him and Magnus.
(The answer turns out to be in double digits.
Alec’s head pounds.)
*
“A political marriage between a Shadowhunter and a Downworlder might be just what we need to calm the feelings after Valentine,” the Inquisitor says, looking at Alec expectantly.
She sounds like she has to choke the words out. Like she has just suggested a Shadowhunter should get married to the mould she found in her bathroom.
Imogen Herondale is charming like that.
“Maybe you could consider actually seeing Downworlders as people instead,” Alec answers, glaring at her.
Imogen purses her lips. “We assumed you wouldn’t mind it, considering you are already… uh. Compromised.”
Jace, at Alec’s side, growls.
Alec takes a deep breath. It’s his arena as much as it is hers. “No worries, Madam Inquisitor,” he says. “I can assure you I intend to marry Magnus Bane. On our terms and in the name of love, not so that you can hide your disgusting attitudes for longer. I have already talked to Consul Penhallow and she shares my disgust over your proposal.” He smiles at her. “If I find out you continue pitching it, I will dedicate all my time to destroying you,” he adds sweetly. “You know where the door is, I assume.”
She looks like she wants to murder him.
She can’t.
Alec is a hero of the war against Valentine. No one is going to choose her over him now, a Herondale or not, the Inquisitor or not. They both know that.
She walks away.
“Can you ask to be disinherited?” Jace wonders out loud, making sure that she hears him before closing the door.
*
When Alec walks into the loft, he finds his boyfriend sitting on the ground next to Madzie, Cat, and, for reasons he doesn’t want to know about, Simon Lewis.
They are all wearing wedding dresses, apparently because the imaginary tea party Madzie is hosting requires them.
Chairman Meow is wearing a miniature wedding dress, too. Considering there are no scratches on Magnus’s arms, Alec supposes the cat got dressed up by magic.
How Magnus can rock anything he puts on is a mystery to Alec, but Alec’s breath catches in his throat at the sight.
“I can change,” the warlock says quietly when the tea party ends. He snaps his fingers, and the tea cups disappear. He looks way too insecure for Alec’s liking.
“Or you could not,” Alec answers before he can stop himself, and Magnus smirks when he finally interprets Alec’s inability to look at him for the entire duration of the tea party correctly.
“Or I could not,” he agrees. He crosses the room to kiss Alec hello, the white satin soft against Alec’s palm when he rests it on Magnus’s side. “We can’t let your sister spend so much time with Madzie,” Magnus comments then. “Sweet pea is too powerful and too determined for Izzy to feed her with information about how wonderful it would be if the two of us got married.”
Alec groans. He really needs to talk to Izzy.
Later, though.
“You won’t wear a dress to our actual wedding, will you?” he asks.
Not that he would care if Magnus wanted to.
Magnus smiles at him. “No, I wasn’t going to, no.”
“Good,” Alec says. “It would bring bad luck if I saw you wearing it beforehand.”
Magnus kisses him again, and Alec… Alec isn’t going to start lying to himself now.
“If you won’t wear it to the wedding,” he ventures. “Does that mean we can move it to the bedroom now?”
He can feel Magnus’s answering smile against his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”
*
“If you want the High Warlock to officiate, I will need to know in advance,” Lorenzo says, interrupting the brunch they are having.
Alec seriously hates that guy.
“No worries,” Magnus answers easily, not bothering to look up from the strawberries he has been playfully feeding to Alec until now. “I will make sure to let Malcolm Fade know.”
*
“It still is too soon, right?” Alec asks quietly two weeks later, and Magnus sighs.
They are curled up together, watching a rerun of The Vampire Diaries (Alec has so many questions.) and he is so stupidly in love that it isn’t even funny.
“Probably,” Magnus agrees. He doesn’t point out and it is still more or less illegal.
Alec is absurdly thankful for that.
“Right,” he says.
This is a terrible idea.
This is a terrible idea and if Alec is going to do this, then he should do it right and he should get to one knee and propose properly and in style, because Magnus deserves it.
Except that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t really have to be grand.
Maybe the fact that they are together and in love and real and partners and equal in every sense of the word is enough.
Alec looks at the television where Elena Gilbert is currently dancing with Damon Salvatore, and right, the previous episode must have ended while he was lost in thoughts, and…
And.
Alec has years he can spend spoiling Magnus rotten the way he deserves.
And maybe this, the two of them curled up on the sofa, Magnus not wearing any makeup and dressed just in one of Alec’s old shirts, soft in ways Alec is the only person allowed to see, with Chairman purring at their side is exactly where the question should be asked.
“I know it’s too soon and not possible now,” he says out loud and Magnus goes still against him. “But I love you and I want the whole world to know that this… I want you to be my forever, Magnus. And I want everyone to see that we will change the world, making it possible. Magnus Bane, will you become my fiancé?”
(By the time Magnus replies “yes”, they are both flushed and lip-swollen and teary-eyed and out of breath and there is a completely different show running.)