Chapter Text
Alec had never been particularly fond of his full name. It was too much of a mouthful; everyone tended to make it sound garbled and, frankly, ugly. Well, that is, until Magnus Bane. But then, Magnus could make anything seem beautiful.
Still, ‘Alexander’ had never sounded better than when it rolled off the warlock’s tongue… and it never failed to send a pleased chill up Alec’s spine. When Magnus used Alexander rather than Alec, it was not because he was angry or upset (as his parents did). Rather, it was because he was happy with Alec, because Alec had done something to delight him. It was a sign of affection; it was Magnus wanting to let him know that he appreciated him, that he, Alec, Alexander, was important.
It still took him by surprise. Shadowhunters were hard people, cold some would say. Affection, even reassurance, was not something often given or received. Hell, his own parents refused to. Thankfully, his siblings had always been there for him, ready to help him back up from whatever dark pit he’d fallen into. Izzy in particular seemed to have a sixth sense for this and more often than not she managed to convince him out of whatever poisonous thoughts he’d let hinder him (though whether this was by a loud scolding or a warm hug tended to vary).
But with Magnus, beautiful, glorious Magnus, it was a different thing entirely. He craved Magnus’ affection (craved everything Magnus really). So when the warlock had been mad at him, disappointed in him, and had reverted back to short, abrupt Alec, it had felt as if he’d taken a seraph blade to the chest. He’d felt as if he’d lost a part of himself he’d just discovered, as well as losing the man that could have possibly been the big, ominous One.
Of course, after his chaotic wedding (which, apparently, according to the Shadowhunter community, was the scandal of the century) they’d finally gotten some time alone, and then–
“I have to hand it to you, Alexander, you certainly know how to make a statement.”
Magnus’ declaration had sent his heart racing, a happy smile tugging his lips upward. Alexander, he’d thought, I’m Alexander again. How is this real?
Even now, with Magnus leaning against him in their shared apartment, the warlock’s head firmly on his shoulder as the shadowhunter ran long fingers through thick hair, Alec had a hard time believing he could deserve such bliss. Magnus let out a small, pleased groan as his boyfriend scratched his scalp, curling in closer like an oversized cat. For once, he was without his characteristic make-up and styled hair (but still wore what must be the most expensive, exceedingly bright, purple silk pajama pants known to man). Part of Alec liked barefaced Magnus best, but most of him simply agreed that any Magnus was the best Magnus. He knew himself well enough to admit that he’d rather have a furious Magnus at his hands for the rest of his life than none at all. At the moment, however, the warlock simply seemed tired, likely exhausted from the excessive use of magic his appointment yesterday had required. It was noon already and he was still yawning.
Alec found himself leaning down, resting his lips on top of Magnus’ head and inhaling the scent of his familiar, rich shampoo. “How about I get you some coffee?” he asked.
“My Alexander, always so thoughtful. But I do think I’m quite comfortable here, no need for you to get up yet.” Magnus patted Alec’s cotton covered chest fondly, seemingly unaware of the slight jump in the shadowhunter’s heartbeat.
Really though, could anyone blame him? It was Magnus.