Chapter Text
Somehow, somewhere in the middle of this disaster of a night, Alec finds it in himself to be faintly horrified at Magnus’ suitcase choice. It’s a small thing to fixate on, but it gives him back some illusion of control - if he’s horribly confused about why anyone would own a hot pink trundle-along now of all times, like he usually would be, that means this is all normal, right?
Right.
Being stuck at London Gatwick airport at God knows what time with no luggage, no phone battery and no chance in hell of stopping his growing infatuation with the guy perched on the bench next to him is totally, one hundred percent normal.
∞
They’d stuck together because they’d got chatting - well, tell a lie. Fate, or God, or some other greater force that enjoyed embarrassing Alec far too much, had thrown the pair of them together on a row of seats. Alec’d been gazing out the tiny, scratched window when something soft-ish landed on his foot, and then a man - was that glitter in his hair? Not that Alec noticed or anything - was bending right down to get it, cheek brushing Alec’s knee.
“So sorry,” the man said cheerfully, straightening up and dumping the retrieved bag on the seat next to Alec. He rummaged around in it, pulling out his cell and headphones with a flourish, then shoved it unceremoniously into one of the overhead lockers. He flopped down in his seat and smiled brightly at Alec, who hoped the man wasn’t expecting a reply, because he’d sort of lost the ability to use his mouth. Or brain. Or any part of his body, really.
An almost-coherent word slipped out unbidden and he pressed his lips together to stop another. He counted to five, trying to remember how he usually breathed, and then spoke.
“Fine. S’fine.”
“Hm?” the man glanced at him. “Sorry, biscuit, what did you say?”
“It’s fine,” managed Alec, only slightly strangled. “The - you dropped - apologised. Never mind.”
The man nodded slowly, lips turning upwards.
“Do you not like flying?” he asked after a minute.
Alec glanced at him, found it too hard to look into the man’s khol-lined eyes without feeling his face grow hot, realised he couldn’t stare at the man’s lips, and settled his gaze on his cheek instead.
“Erm,” he said, not ready to admit that it wasn’t the thought of the journey making him nervous. (Not that he was nervous. He was fine. Totally, one hundred percent fine.)
“Don’t worry.” The man dropped his voice to a stage whisper and leaned into Alec. “If you get scared, you can always hold my hand.”
Alec was screwed. Totally, one hundred percent screwed.
∞
After take off, it was mainly the man who’d done the chatting. Alec had listened distractedly, paying half of his attention to the words, and half to the way the man’s ringed, nail-painted fingers danced as he spoke, and how he flashed Alec hints of white teeth when he smiled. He talked excitedly about his plans - flying from New York to meet his friends in London for a touristy trip round the landmarks, then north for a trek across the Scottish Highlands. Alec was almost certain the blood rushed to his face when the man grinned and said he hoped a tall, ruggedly handsome Scottish man on horseback would rescue him when his Jeep broke down and he got stuck in a field of shaggy cows in the pouring rain.
“You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Alec nodded uncertainly. “Yes.” One look at the man in the seat next to him told Alec he wasn’t believed. He laughed on a short breath and shook his head. “Nope.”
“Okay, so when you get the chance, you need to watch Made of Honour. S’got McDreamy in it. God-awful film, but it’s great.”
Alec promised to watch it when he got home, which made the man smile. It made his cheeks round and his eyes brighten and Alec was fairly sure he was going to die at the sight when the stewardess came by with her trolley, taking the man’s attention. Alec had never been so grateful in his life.
He forced himself to look out the window, staring hard as if he could reveal the Atlantic Ocean through the clouds with only quiet determination. After having words with himself, he turned back to find the man next to him opening a bottle of ready-mixed mojito. Alec didn’t know anyone else who drank at this time of the day, but somehow, this and the glittery hair and the loud clothes (bright red skinny jeans, white shirt patterned with swirling gold threads, glowing amber gems studded up his left ear which absolutely positively didn’t bring out the colour of his eyes) all lined up to brush out a perfect portrait of the person sitting next to him.
The man looked at Alec once he’d poured some of his drink into a little plastic cup. Perhaps at Alec’s raised eyebrows, he smiled.
“Well, it’s happy hour somewhere, my dear.”
Alec tried not to watch while the man swallowed. God, he really needed to stop being such a creep.
∞
Alec’s eyelids were drooping. He’d felt perfectly fine when the two of them had been talking earlier, and they’d spent the past hour making fun of the shitty plane movie playing from the tiny screen in front of them. His headphones hadn’t worked, so they’d shared. It was a weirdly intimate thing to do with a near-stranger, but the man - Magnus - had offered. He’d been watching America’s Next Top Model (Alec had been casting furtive glances at the man’s phone), but stopped to look as Alec began flicking through the various altitude and flight speed displays till he found the movie.
“What’s on?” Magnus asked.
Alec paused, squinting at the screen.
“Dunno.” He spotted a blonde woman he was fairly sure he’d seen in some spy movie Jace had been obsessed with a few years ago. “That’s Cameron Diaz, right?”
Magnus leant over Alec to peer at the screen. Alec tried not to breathe in the smell of Magnus’ shampoo too deeply. And again with the fucking glitter.
(Though he sort of didn’t mind it when Magnus was invading his personal space like that.)
“What Happens In Vegas. Also a terrible film. But I guess it passes the time.”
And it had, but despite the director’s best efforts, Alec found himself sliding into sleep. He’d gotten up so damn early to finish his last bits of packing and get to the airport in enough time, and though he hadn’t really done anything but wait around in the Departure Lounge once he’d gone through Security, he was shattered. His eyes closed momentarily, and then he felt something rest on his shoulder and they flew open. He must have jerked because Magnus immediately moved his head away. Alec watched as the headphone bud fell from Magnus’ ear almost in slow motion. It could have been amusing, but to Alec it was just a reminder that he’d stupidly disturbed Magnus by being so jumpy.
“Sorry,” he muttered, knowing he was blushing. Again.
Magnus waved his hand.
“It’s my fault. My apologies.” He settled back into his own seat, replacing the ear bud and fluffing his hair.
“It’s fine.” Alec nibbled on his lip and nudged Magnus gently. “I - really. It’s fine.”
Magnus looked at him sharply for a moment, as if he was trying to read Alec’s expression. Then his gaze softened.
“Okay.” He put his head back on Alec’s shoulder, and Alec could feel him smiling.
Even though he was absolutely exhausted, he’d never felt more awake.
∞
Alec had been annoyingly disappointed when they touched down. It meant the journey was over; it meant that he wouldn’t get to sit next to Magnus; it meant he would never get to talk to him again. Immediately he wanted to slap himself for becoming so clingy to someone he’d only just met - a complete stranger.
(A complete stranger who’d fallen asleep on him and smiled at him and possibly, maybe flirted with him just a little bit.)
But still.
Magnus had actually asked Alec to get his bag down from the overhead locker - “I sort of flung it in at the start of the journey, and didn’t really think about getting it out again. You’re -” (was Alec dreaming or had Magnus’ eyes stroked lazily up and down his body here?) “- tall. Would you mind?” - and he had hung around. Alec had been expecting Magnus to do the whole ‘it was nice to meet you, see you later’ thing where ‘later’ meant never and was just to be polite, but he hadn’t. He’d waited while Alec got his own black backpack, and then smiled, stepping into the plane aisle.
“Shall we?”
After leaving the plane they trekked down endless hallways, Magnus hopping on the travelators, Alec biting back a smile as he walked alongside him.
“You know, cupcake, they made these things so you don’t have to walk,” Magnus called to him, and Alec thought it would have had more effect if Magnus had then whizzed past, but instead Alec could keep pace with very little effort.
“I want to,” Alec said. “We’ve been cramped on that plane for like -” he checked his watch “- over eight hours. My legs are complaining.”
Magnus was leaning on the rail of the travelator, watching Alec. He caught Magnus’ gaze dipping down to his legs.
“Mm. I’m not,” was all Magnus said. Alec was fairly sure his heart skipped.
When they finally got to the Arrivals hall, Alec groaned loudly. “Have you seen the queue?”
Magnus grinned and grabbed Alec’s hand, tugging him over to the ‘Outside the EU’ area. He threw his arms wide, startling a woman standing near him.
“It’s all part of the adventure, Alexander.”
If Alec’s brain wasn’t already malfunctioning at the fact that Magnus had just held his fucking hand, being called Alexander would have done it. He wasn’t sure how Magnus knew - Alec was a name in itself, and he guessed most people went by Alex - but he did, and he was grinning widely. Alec stared dumbly at Magnus for a minute. Then he gestured around the hall, trying to find something to do with himself that didn’t involve melting into a puddle.
“Yeah, when I think about London, this is the first thing that comes to mind,” he said, and Magnus smiled again. He seemed to have done that a lot, if Alec thought about it, but it probably didn’t mean anything.
In fact, he guessed none of it meant anything. Magnus was going to turn out to be one of those people - like Izzy, in fact - who was just down with getting in people’s personal space. The kind of person who hugged everyone, even people they’d just met, and ruffled people’s hair, and used pet names for strangers. The kind of person who slept on strangers’ shoulders and didn’t have a minimum-time-for-acquaintance rule about sharing headphones. The kind of person who behaved in such a way that it could very easily be mistaken for flirting, if you were Alec Lightwood.
Oh, God. He was such an idiot.
∞
The baggage area of London Gatwick was unremarkable, and it was even plainer blinked at through tired eyes. The exhaustion had suddenly hit him again, made worse by Alec adjusting his watch to local time. It was gone 10pm. He’d been awake for seventeen hours. Alec peered blearily at one of the screens, waiting for the carousel number for their flight to appear.
“Number four,” he said on a yawn.
Magnus nodded and began walking. Alec followed, putting a little more distance between them than he’d kept in the passport queue earlier. His quiet realisation that Magnus wasn’t the type to be interested in him beyond anything more than polite friendliness had dimmed his mood, and he didn’t want to ruin Magnus’ night. He’d totally been projecting, onto a stranger. What was wrong with him?
“Hey, I was thinking,” Magnus said, leaning casually on a luggage trolley Alec didn’t realise he had procured, “maybe we should swap numbers before we leave.”
Alec’s head snapped up. “What?”
Magnus shifted. Alec belatedly realised Magnus was toying with the strap of his bag.
“Familiar face in a foreign country, and all that. Maybe we’ll be on the same flight home. When’re you going back?”
Alec declined to answer, instead asking a question of his own.
“Why do you need a familiar face? Aren’t you meeting your friends?”
It came out far ruder than he’d intended, but he was knackered and confused and didn’t have time for Magnus to be messing with him. The other didn’t reply, turning his attention to the bag.
“Sorry,” Alec said. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I - I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just meant - well, I meant that, I guess, but not -”
“Alec,” said Magnus, holding up a hand to stop him. For the first time, Alec really looked at the colour of Magnus’ nails, beyond just noticing that they were painted - they were a shimmery blue, and he found he liked it. Magnus was smiling at him again and Alec fought the irrational urge to ask him to stop. It wasn’t fair for him to look at Alec like that, when Alec knew there was no way he would actually be looking at him like that.
He was so fucking shattered that even he couldn’t understand his thoughts.
“Alec,” Magnus said again. “I would really like your number, okay? I like talking to you.”
And just like that, Alec’s world stopped spinning and then started again.
∞
People were starting to get antsy after about twenty minutes of waiting. The crowd hushed when an announcement crackled through over the loudspeaker, but Alec couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
“Was that our flight?” he asked Magnus when the announcement had finished. Magnus shrugged.
“I think so. There’s an airport person, let’s ask her.”
Magnus pulled his bag from the trolley and wandered over to the member of staff he’d spotted. Alec looked at the luggage trolley sitting dejectedly in the middle of the baggage area and pushed it over to the bay, then joined Magnus.
“Want the good news or bad news?” he asked Alec.
Alec wrinkled his nose and shrugged. Helpful.
“Well, the good news is that they’re very sorry. The bad news is they think our luggage has -” he wiggled his fingers in a poof motion “- disappeared.”
Alec stared at Magnus in horror.
“Disappeared?” he repeated faintly. “As in, has been held up and will be here really soon?”
“I think the word you’re looking for there is ‘delayed’.”
Alec pushed the base of his palms into his eyes and mumbled to himself. This was not happening. All of his stuff was gone. At least he still had his wallet and phone, which would keep him going for - shitting fuck, his phone charger was in his suitcase. His disappeared suitcase.
He pulled his cell from his jeans pocket, saw the 47% battery and glared.
“What do we do?” he asked Magnus, a slightly desperate edge creeping into his voice.
“There’s a lost luggage desk. We have to give them descriptions, contents, whatever. Are you okay?” Magnus put his hand on Alec’s arm. “You look a bit pale - beautifully so, but still.”
“Yeah, I -” Alec was about to say that he was sort of possibly maybe panicking a little bit about the prospect of all his belongings being lost when something dimly registered: Magnus had just called him beautiful. He shook himself and pushed it to the back of his mind.
Magnus was seemingly unfazed by giving complements and had pulled out his phone. He was busy talking to someone called Cat, so Alec decided to walk to this lost luggage desk, and then realised he had no idea where it was. He searched for a sign, but couldn’t see anything.
Magnus paused his own conversation for a minute, lightly touching Alec’s arm again.
“It’s over there,” he said, pointing.
“Thanks.”
Alec set off in the direction Magnus had shown him, and found himself at the edge of a large gathering of people. He could hear a number of familiar accents and realised that all of the people who’d been on his flight were probably scrabbling to give their information and details too. He sighed heavily. While he still could, Alec whizzed off a message to his sister, telling her he’d arrived okay. He’d let her know about the luggage situation later (and decided he might also keep the Magnus situation to himself for a while).
∞
Eventually they made it to the front of the queue. The woman at the desk was typing frantically, presumably logging customers’ details as quickly as she could. She glanced at the two men and told them she was very sorry, but she’d just be a minute. When she spoke, Alec registered her accent, and for the first time, allowed the fact that he was actually in England to sink in. He’d made it.
Magnus smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it.”
Alec leant his elbows on the desk, fingers massaging his temples. He was so goddamn tired. Eighteen and a half hours. He turned to ask Magnus something, but found the other was - well, he was staring at Alec’s arms, like there was something remarkable about them.
“What?” Alec asked, nonplussed.
Magnus didn’t say anything, and instead began fiddling with one of the gems studded in his ear.
“Please accept my apologies for the wait, Sirs,” the woman in front of them said. “How can I help?”
“We’ve just flown in from New York,” Magnus began, “but our luggage seems to have got lost along the way. Perhaps it was as we went over Bermuda.”
Alec didn’t know how, but Magnus was somehow still incredibly polite and managing to make a joke of the situation, and he was wholly impressed.
(To be honest, he was just kind of impressed with Magnus in general.)
“Yes, of course,” the woman said. “Can I take some details?”
Alec only half listened as Magnus recounted his name, address (he definitely didn’t make a mental note of the fact that Magnus was from Brooklyn too, because they’d already discussed that on the plane and he was not a stalker, God) and contact details, but when he caught the description of Magnus’ luggage, he had to pause to make sure he’d heard right.
Somehow, somewhere in the middle of this disaster of a night, Alec finds it in himself to be faintly horrified at Magnus’ suitcase choices. He’s glad he’s not the only one - the woman at the desk also does a barely perceptible double take, but dutifully adds three bags to Magnus’ claim: a vermillion hard case, a fuscia thing on wheels, and a lime green hiker’s backpack. Alec knows it’s a small thing to fixate on, but it gives him back some illusion of control - if he’s horribly confused about why anyone would own a hot pink trundle-along now of all times, like he usually would be, that means this is all normal, right?
Right.
He’s fairly sure he accidentally voices his utter confusion (something like a goodnatured, “what the fuck?”), but if Magnus hears he doesn’t reply.
When the woman asks Alec for his own details, he supplies them in what he’s pretty sure is a half-delusional state. He’s almost completely dead on his feet. When he gives his full name, he hears a soft, self-satisfied noise from Magnus, and he’s too tired to pretend it’s not one of the best sounds he’s heard all day.
“Luggage description?”
“Black,” he supplies. “Um, just - yeah, black really. It’s got two handles. One on the top, one on the side. Pocket on the front. Quite old now.” Just like almost everything else he owns, including the clothes he’s currently wearing. Now his only clothes. Shit.
The woman half-smiles at him. “Just the one bag?”
Despite everything, he finds his lips tugging upwards. “Yeah.” With an amused sideways glance: “Some of us pack lighter than others.”
∞
When they’re done, Alec moves to a row of metal seats and slumps down gratefully. His head tips back of its own accord, resting on the top of the seat, and his eyes close. He hears Magnus take a seat beside him, and the two of them wait in silence for a few minutes.
“Do you want to go and get a coffee?” Magnus offers after a while.
Alec declines to raise his head; his eyes stay closed too. A sound that’s half a groan and half an acquiescence leaves his mouth, something approaching mmmpf. He can’t see it, but he hears the grin in Magnus’ tone.
“Should I go and get you something, then?”
Alec stretches as he sits up, back yelling in protest. He works the tension from his neck and blinks sleepily at Magnus.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll come,” he says, voice heavy. “There’s got to be something still open, right?”
Magnus nods. “I think it’s pretty much twenty-four seven. There’s a McDonald’s over there, or a Costa.”
“Would it be really bad if my first English meal is a Big Mac?” Alec asks, only half joking. Magnus seems like a seasoned traveller from the stories he told on the plane and he doesn’t want to appear like he’s homesick already. Magnus laughs, though, and Alec’s annoyingly relieved.
He needs to get a hold on himself.
Alec follows Magnus to the seating in the fast food place and they slide into a booth. Magnus squints at the menu on the wall.
“Coffee’s less than two pounds, so we’re staying.” He flashes a grin at Alec. “Not that I’m a cheap date.”
Alec’s stumbling, totally, one hundred percent smooth exit from the booth to go order isn’t the only thing that makes him blush.
When he returns with the two coffees, Magnus is on engrossed in his phone. He doesn’t look up when Alec puts the drink down in front of him, but he does offer his thanks. Alec’s suddenly struck by the realisation that Magnus has friends here in England - in London, even - and that he could have gone to meet them. Should have.
He hates it, but he aches when he thinks about Magnus leaving. Whatever this thing that has struck up between them is, it doesn’t extend to the future. It stays within the confines of the journey - the plane, the airport. Those are places where he’s just a person who met another person and they kind of hit it off. Once they go their separate ways, the real world will rush back in again and everything they’ve shared will be gone.
Even though it’s too hot, he sips his coffee, swallowing down the unpleasant realisation.
“Did you let your friends know you’ve arrived?” he asks, and then wants to slap himself. Of course Magnus did, and he doesn’t need reminding because he’s not a child.
“Yeah,” comes the reply. Magnus puts his phone down and picks up the drink. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be rude. Cat’s agreed to pick me up in an hour or so. She wanted to come earlier but I told her the tiredness hadn’t hit me yet.” He smiles slowly at Alec. “Besides, I’m having fun where I am.”
Alec hasn’t just fallen for the guy; he’s reached terminal velocity.
He lets out a laugh on a puff of air, sure Magnus is messing with him.
“Yeah, best day of my life,” he says, hating himself for being so closed off. But this infatuation, it’s dangerous. Selfish. Unfair. Nothing’s going to happen here, so he needs to just get over it.
∞
They leave McDonalds together. Alec had insisted Magnus go with his friend (Catarina, he learns), but Magnus had insisted back that he walk Alec to his hotel room. Alec wasn’t really sure why, but it was kind of nice that he had.
(Okay, it was really nice.)
Since Alec couldn’t be bothered to make the half hour trek across the capital to the hotel he’d booked, paying God knows how much for a cab at this time of night, they decided he should try his luck and find a hotel somewhere near the airport.
The walk to the Travelodge is comfortably silent, and in some ways Alec’s glad for it, because he doesn’t know what to say to Magnus now. He’ll probably never see him again, so there’s no point in creating anything new.
He waits for a moment at the front desk. When the receptionist is free, he listens patiently to Alec’s explanation of what has happened and taps away at the computer. He scans the screen and then smiles.
“We have a double room free, Sir, on the second floor. Is it just the two of you?”
Alec blinks, looking around for another person, and then realises that the receptionist thinks that he and Magnus are together. Maybe even together. He glances behind him to the other man but Magnus is preoccupied with a stand of flyers.
“Oh, um - no, it’s - it’s just for me.”
The receptionist nods and completes the booking. He hands a keycard to Alec and tells him when breakfast will be served, then gestures to a door on the right.
“Stairs are through there. The lift’s just to your left, if you need it. Have a pleasant stay.”
Alec thanks the man and goes to stand near Magnus.
“Sorted,” he says, waving the keycard.
Magnus appraises Alec. “Are you going to be okay, Alexander?” he asks. He’s looking at Alec quite intently, and Alec’s suddenly sure there must be something on his face, or wrong with his face, maybe. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”
Alec begins to nod, then starts. “Uh, my phone’s died.” He half-smiles. “So I guess it doesn’t really matter that I gave you my number.”
Magnus laughs. “Of course it matters,” he says, eyes shining. “Now I get the chance to go for coffee with you again.”
Alec’s breath hitches and a little voice in the back of his mind whispers that maybe he’s wrong about the world rushing back in - or that just maybe, Magnus will come with it.
He’s definitely blushing now, but he tries to keep it cool.
“Huh - well, um - yeah, that - that’d be - good. Nice.”
Totally, one hundred percent cool.
∞
The next day, Alec goes out and buys a replacement phone charger. He’s sitting on the bed in his hotel room when his phone finally bleeps back into life, and he sees several messages from his family - from Izzy, from Jace, his mom. There’s also a text from a number his phone doesn’t immediately recognise.
As he adds the number - Magnus Bane - to his Contacts, Alec tries really, really hard to stop grinning.
(He can’t.)