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“You’re seeing Magnus again? For a second night in a row? Damn, Alec, I didn’t know you had so much game.”
Izzy’s teasing him. The light in her eyes is too bright for it to be anything else.
“I don’t,” Alec says. It comes out particularly rough, and Izzy laughs. No one has ever listed ‘charming’ under the list of Alec’s attributes.
Alec buttons and unbuttons the third button down on his shirt for the third time, when Izzy puts his hand on hers to still him. “Leave it open,” she says. She eyes him carefully. “If you’re dating now, you should let me take you shopping.”
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t trust my taste?”
“I don’t trust your taste for me.”
Izzy mock-pouts. “Two dates two nights in a row. I’m jealous.”
Concern dumps over Alec like ice water. Whether to button or unbutton now so trivial when he can hear his mother’s voice in his head. Life is now about getting what you want; it’s about what must be done.
“I’m not being selfish, am I? Going out two nights in a row? I should be working. I should be preparing, training --”
“Alec,” Izzy says, loudly, interrupting him and his thoughts in tandem. His sister knew him so well, knew his own doubts could send him spiraling.
“First of all,” she says, “You are the least selfish person I know. You work all day, you can have a few hours for yourself. Magnus clearly makes you happy and also, frankly, a much more tolerable person to deal with.”
“Wow, thanks, Izzy,” Alec says dryly.
“Second,” she continues, “I promise to call you if anything comes up. Third, if I had a boyfriend right now, I would be making time to see him.”
Now he feels guilty. He sort of played a hand in the arrest of her last boyfriend. He scratches at the back of his head. “So, um, how is Meliorn?”
“Alive,” Izzy says. “Or last I’ve heard. But you know Seelies… they’re mysterious.”
Alec frowns.
“Don’t worry about me, big brother, I’ll live to love again… Until then, let me live vicariously through you. Go have fun with your sexy warlock.”
Alec can’t stop himself from blushing.
“Wow, you really don’t have game.”
…
He knocks on the loft door and it slides open before him.
“Come in! Come in!” Magnus shouts somewhere from the loft’s depths.
Alec finds Magnus twirling around in the kitchen, tossing a pinch of seasoning into one bubbling pots on the stove.
“You’re cooking,” Alec states.
“I said dinner, did I not?” Magnus replies. He flicks a wrist, and a spoon stirs itself. “But I’d forgotten how long it takes. So I apologize, but you’ll have to wait.”
“That’s -- that’s fine.” Despite Magnus’ opinion on the matter, Alec believes that truly Magnus is the one full of surprises.
Magnus waves a hand at one of the stools that line the opposite side of the island separating the kitchen area from the rest of the loft.
“Please, take a seat, Alexander.”
He does. He thinks a couple times of asking if he can help, but keeps get distracting by the way Magnus moves through the kitchen like he’s dancing.
When Magnus finally gets things settled enough that the pans just have to be left to simmer, he takes the stool next to Alec’s and conjures them up two glasses of red wine.
“So, what’s on your mind, Alexander?”
Alec, honest and unfiltered, says, “I like it when you call me that.”
Magnus pauses, glass halfway to his mouth. “Your name?”
“No one calls me ‘Alexander.’ You know that.”
Magnus shrugs in a way that may or may not be an admission.
‘Alec’ is short, succinct, easily barked in battle. ‘Alexander’ usually sounds old-fashioned and a labor of syllables.
Alec runs his thumb over the counter’s edge. “When you say it…” he says, not daring to make eye contact as he admits… When Magnus says it, it’s like he’s reciting poetry, or casting a spell… “It’s like magic.”
That’s unbearably corny; Alec really has no game.
But Magnus doesn’t mind, or, an even crazier idea, he enjoys whatever skew of game that Alec does possess.
“Are you accusing me of enchanting you?” Magnus’ expression reads as entirely too pleased, so Alec agrees that yes, this is exactly what he’s accusing.
It’s how Alec ends up with the edge of the island counter digging into his back as Magnus presses in close. Magnus may be a few inches shorter than Alec himself, but he’s still strong. Everything about his soldier instinct makes Alec think he’d hate being boxed in like this, but he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. In fact, being stuck between Magnus and a hard place is quite working for it.
Plus, Magnus’ tongue tastes like the wine, and it’s intoxicating.
“Wait…” Alec says as he makes himself pull back. “Is something burning?”
Magnus swears in a language that’s definitely not human.
With a snap of his fingers the stovetop flames die, but the charred smell lingers. “No, no, no,” Magnus mantras as he lifts the lid to inspect.
“I wanted to make the perfect beef bourguignon, because what is more romantic than French food…”
“It’s okay. I didn’t really come for the food. I came for the company.” He says that without a stutter. Maybe he does have some game.
“But Alexander…” Magnus says in an almost whine that Alec finds very endearing, “I’m wooing you. I can’t promise dinner then not provide dinner. How gauche.”
Alec’s about to suggest they skip dinner altogether and commence instead with more making out when his stomach growls rather audibly. He hasn’t eaten since lunch, and he is hungry, and now there’s no way to lie about it.
Magnus flicks up a finger. “I have an idea. There is little French bistro that serves some of the best french food I’ve ever tasted. We go there for dinner, then come back here for…,” Magnus drops his voice low, “dessert.”
Alec’s mouth goes dry. He nods for lack of words.
“Excellent!” Magnus says now that he has Alec’s agreement. “I’ll just draw up a portal and --”
“Wait. Portal? How far is this place?”
“Alec,” Magnus says, eyebrows raised. “It’s in France.”
“We -- we can’t go to France,” Alec says, stunned.
“Yes, we can,” Magnus counters. “It’s actually quite easy for me.”
“But --,” That’s an ocean away. If something happened here in New York… And… And… His head was dizzy with contradiction.
Magnus steps close, draws a finger down Alec’s clothed bicep, drawing him out of his head. “Alexander,” he says, dragging it out extra long. Damn, Alec should’ve never admitted what his full name in Magnus’ mouth did to him. “Please, let me spoil you.”
How Alec do anything other but agree?
…
Magnus circles his ring fingers around the edge of his near empty wine glass. “Are you glad that you indulged me?”
They sitting at small table on an outside patio. Alec had just finished a creme brulee, which he had never had before and might’ve been the best thing he ever tasted.
“Very,” Alec says.
Magnus tilts his head. “Alexander, are you tipsy?”
Is he? Magnus had ordered a now-empty bottle for the table, and Alec had found he rather liked it the more of he drank throughout the night. Now he felt loose and unfettered in a way that was rather pleasant. All real life worries seemed just out of reach.
Alec shrugs. “Why -- why does it matter?”
“You’re smiling a lot.”
“I smile.”
“Not enough, darling. And you have quite a lovely smile.”
‘Darling’... that’s new. He never imagined he’d like being called something like that, could never imagine someone calling him something like that and it not be mocking. He likes it like he likes ‘Alexander,’ and likes the way that Magnus said it, offhand, like it’s a fact of nature that Alexander is darling to Magnus.
“Come on. Let’s go on a walk,” Magnus says, standing. “I want to show you something.”
Magnus tucks his hand around Alec’s elbow as they walk side-by-side. Alec doesn’t feel the need to ask where they’re headed. He’s content to just be, to feel Magnus’ warmth at his side, to be able to smell his cologne.
They round a corner revealing a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower lit up against the night sky.
“Wow,” Alec gasps.
“Beautiful, right?” Magnus says, leaning against Alec’s side.
“I need to…” Alec fumbles with his phone for a moment.
With nimble fingers, Magnus snatched the phone from Alec. “No, no, no… There are a million pictures of the Eiffel Tower on the internet. This is what you need…” With hands on Alec’s shoulders, Magnus turns Alec around. “Smile, dear.”
When Magnus handed back the phone, there was a artfully framed selfie of the two of them with the Eiffel Tower lighting up the background.
“Magnus?”
“Yes, Alexander?”
“I’m glad I indulged you, but can we go back to your loft now?”
Magnus knows what he’s asking.
“Certainly.”
…
Alec only waits until their portaled back into Magnus’ loft to grab him by the shoulders and start kissing him. He wanted to try something -- something Magnus had done to him last night -- and so he drags his kisses away from Magnus’ mouth, and across his jaw and down his neck.
“Oh,” Magnus gasps as Alec finds a certain spot under Magnus’ ear. Magnus’ rakes his fingers through Alec’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp.
Alec has a vague awareness that the couch is located behind him, but he doesn’t want to detach from Magnus’ to get there.
He takes a step back… and promptly trips over the edge of a throw rug, going down and bringing Magnus with him. He thumps hard back against the floor, Magnus landing half on top of him.
Magnus presses up on one elbow. “Are you okay?”
Alec thunks his head back onto the floor and starts laughing. Because nothing is going right tonight, and he really has no game, but it’s ended up with Magnus draped over him, so how can he complain. He’s definitely still tipsy.
Magnus giggles along with him. When he starts to get up, Alec grabs him by the hips and holds him there.
“No,” he says.
Magnus eyebrows raise, the corner of his mouth turns up. “Alright then.” He ducks in close.
…
“I don’t --” Kiss. “Want --” Kiss. “This night to end.”
Magnus hovers with just an inch between their lips. “Then stay.”
Alec inhaled a sharp breathe. He aches to try so many things, but he’s a novice, and…
Magnus must have noticed Alec tense, for he says, “I don’t mean any more or less then what I said. Just stay.”
“Okay.”
Alec can tell Magnus is smiling when he kisses him next.
…
Alec texts Izzy, ‘If everything’s good at the Institute, I’m going to stay the night at Magnus’.’
Izzy texts back just a few second later, ‘Get it!!!’
Magnus comes back from the bathroom, make up scrubbed clean from his his face. He’s still stunning.
“I magicked up some pajamas for you in the bathroom if you want to change,” Magnus tells him.
Alec fleetingly wonders what crazy ensemble Magnus has conjured up for him -- Magnus’ pajamas are embroidered -- but they turn out to be sweat pants and a t-shirt in his size. It’s a reminder what of Alec knows: Magnus is considerate. Magnus wants Alec to be comfortable.
When he comes back out, changed, Magnus is lying on the bed, propped up against the pillows, reading a book. Alec looks at him, at his bare feet, at his flat hair, at his relaxed and sleepy expression. This is Magnus not as he shows himself to the world, but as he is, tucked away for the night. He’s shared this front with much fewer people than the world. And Alec is one of them.
Magnus lowers the book. “You can join me, if you want,” Magnus says. It’s light and teasing, but it’s still a choice.
The buzz of the wine has worn off. Alec’s really doing this and he has to face it completely as himself.
It’s not so hard to cross the room and get into bed next to Magnus. It’s a wide bed, and they’re not even close to touching.
“Are you tired?” Magnus asks.
It’s past 2 am, and it has been a whirlwind of a night, so yes, but Alec’s too tense. He knows he couldn’t sleep right now if he tried.
“I guess,” he says.
Magnus snaps and the lights go down. Alec tries settling onto the bed. It shouldn’t surprise him that Magnus has the softest sheets and the fluffiest pillows he’s ever experienced.
He lays there, blinking at the bed’s canopy in the dark. He can hear his own breathing, and Magnus’ breathing, and… it’s awkward. How could this night turn awkward?
“I haven’t shared a bed with someone since I was kid,” Alec admits.
“... I figured so.”
“I --”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know.”
With careful measure, Magnus says, “What would make you more comfortable?”
“If I knew what I was supposed to do,” Alec says.
“You’re supposed to sleep,” Magnus says gently.
Alec releases an irritated sigh. Like often, words have failed him. Time for action. He inches his arm over until his fingers catch on Magnus’ sleeve.
Magnus rolls on his side, closer. “Alexander, is this you signalling to me that you want to cuddle?”
Alec blinks twice at the canopy. “Yes.”
Which is how they end up spooned together. It’s nice, Alec realizes, to hold someone in your arms. And this way Alec can tuck his face into Magnus’ hair and just breathe him in.
Sleep finally starts to catch up to Alec, but a random thought keeps him from it.
“Magnus, do I have game?”
Magnus laughs in surprise. “What?”
“Just…” yawn “wondering.”
“You’re tired tipsy now,” Magnus says.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I happen to find you incredibly endearing, darling,” Magnus says.
Alec hmms into the back of Magnus’ neck, thinking that wasn’t a proper answer either, but he’s seconds away from sleep and he needs to say one more thing.
“Magnus?”
“Yes?”
“I like it when you call me ‘darling’ too,” he slurs as he sinks into the comfort of the pillow and of Magnus’s shared warmth.
He barely hears Magnus reply, a charmed, “Well, I’ll remember that… darling.”
…
“I can’t believe you have a boyfriend who took you to Paris.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alec says.
Izzy scoffs. “You might not have had that conversation yet, but you’re boyfriends… What do you think, Clary?” Izzy adds as she passes Alec’s phone over to the redhead.
Clary examines the EIffel selfie. Alec shifts the weight between his feet, feeling under scrutiny.
“I mean,” Clary says, “He took you to the City of Love on a second date. That’s boyfriend material right there.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Alec says, taking his phone back. “We have work to do.”
Izzy and Clary share a significant look he doesn’t know how to interpret.
A few months again -- heck, a few weeks -- Alec would’ve never expected to land himself in this situation, sitting around having his love life discussed by his sister… and Clary. Stranger yet, he doesn’t hate it.
He decides not to tell them that Paris had been the plan b.