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Alec planted his feet in a defensive stance, his heavy black boots gripping the floor. He was about to direct the Fairchild girl to do the same when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Alarm rose in him as he gestured to Fairchild to wait.
A relatively small population had his number. Since Jace and Izzy were away on an at-long-last sanctioned mission, Alec’s thoughts immediately turned to something having gone wrong with the fey with whom Izzy felt it necessary to associate--he didn’t know how long he’d harangued her over her choice of companions. She’d always listened with half an ear, eventually threateningly toying with her bracelet-whip if there wasn’t an immediate change of subject.
All thoughts flew out of his head when he didn’t recognise the number. What if it was Valentine, or one of his disciples, and they’d somehow captured Jace and Izzy? The fey had broken communication with the Clave, so it was obvious they were at the very least considering joining under Valentine’s banner. So wasn’t it entirely plausible that the fey had turned in the two Shadowhunters who had ventured into their midst?
His heart thumping loudly enough he figured the girl could hear him from across the training space, Alec thumbed the answer call button. He put all of his effort into evening out his voice as he said, “Hello. Who is this?”
That loud pounding emanating from his chest stopped completely and his heart fell into his boots when a voice he actually knew came through the line. His throat seized up, and he could barely blink as he stared at his reflection in the wall-length mirror. But then something strange happened as the voice washed over him.
Instead of looking at himself, he could easily picture Magnus himself looking back at him. Alec's mind easily skipped over the most obvious question: how did the Warlock get his number? Ignoring the fact of his magical prowess, and how much Alec didn't really know the downworlder, he had a feeling that his meddling sister had something to do with it. But beyond all that, Alec couldn't even deny to himself that he was, at the very least, pleased Magnus had deigned to call him.
"Alexander, hi! It's Magnus. We met the other day, you know, with the demon."
"Oh, yeah. Hey, what's up?'' Alec tried to keep his voice calm and steady, fighting the warm feeling in his chest that threatened to make him giddy.
He also found it intriguing Magnus felt the need to re-introduce himself. As though at least some part of Alec's mind had ever stopped thinking about the Warlock and the unique attention he'd paid to the Shadowhunter, even after their less than amicable parting.
''I was just thinking it was really nice getting to know you. You seem... sympathetic. Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?''
Alarms blared inside Alec's head at Magnus' simple yet incredibly complicated question. It didn't matter how light the words made his heart, or how much he really wanted to say yes. He just couldn't. His position at the Institute... With the Clave breathing down their necks...
Practically everything was screaming at him to turn Magnus down.
Unbidden, he answered, "That sounds fun. Um, when?"
What the hell was he thinking? Sure, what he said was true, but life at the Institute, life as a Shadowhunter.... Hell, even life as Jace's parabatai... They had all taught him that just because he wanted something didn't mean he could have it.
Alec, almost in an internal panic, was about to rescind his offer,when Magnus' voice overtook his judgment again.
''How about right now?"
Immediately, Alec wanted to take him up on the offer, say yes, let's do anything, right now, let's go, but something made him turn around. What he saw, or rather didn't see, made his stomach drop to the ground.
Clary was gone.
“Um, you know, now’s not really a good time for me. Another time. Gotta go.”
*******
Magnus handed him the martini glass again. “Stay for just one more drink? And then decide.”
Alec took the glass and grinned.
“So… Come here often?”