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“Pa-pa!!!” Max was stomping loudly through the living-room, coming straight to the corner where Magnus sat at his small desk researching a spell for a client he had taken on this morning.
“Ma-ax!” Magnus responded, playfully mimicking his son’s suffering tone. “What’s up?”
“Can we start cooking for Daddy, please? Now, please?”
“We wanted to cook together this evening, we talked about it, remember?”
“But. I. Am. So. Bored.”
Magnus couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Yeah, I can hear that loud and clear, Blueberry. Where is your brother?”
“Being boring, too.”
Magnus raised his brows, looking at Max sternly. The boy sighed and explained, “He is reading.”
“I see.” Whenever Rafael got into a new story, it was very hard to pull him out of his mind. Apart from him being an introvert child as it was, Magnus suspected, it was also a remainder of a technique he had taught himself when he was little and living with the mundanes.
“Well, to be honest, Sweetheart, this spell research is boring as hell, too. Come on, we can get things started, so Rafe and Alec may join us later.”
They strolled to the kitchen, starting to get things out of the fridge and cupboards. It had been Magnus’ turn to choose the meal. Alec and he had built a tradition to cook together on Friday evenings even before the boys came along. When the kids had grown old enough they started to join them in the process, Max being a creative, eager helper while Rafe mostly tended to chop and stir things, not as much interested as his little brother.
On this evening’s menu would be ketoprak, one of Magnus’ favorite Indonesian dishes. To make sure the kids could make something of their own, they would bake some banana bread, too. The dough would be easily measured and tossed together. For now he could get Max started by cutting the tofu. He would be excited to use the knife without help, the texture easy to slice. Magnus made sure to blunt the blade though.
Not long after starting to rummage and mess, Rafael came into the kitchen obviously brought back to the world by their chatting and working sounds. He still looked a bit spaced out, so Magnus left him be for a few minutes. His oldest son absentmindedly sneaked a piece of cucumber into his mouth lying down on the window sill overlooking the sunset-colored city. It was one of his favorite places in the apartment especially in winter when the heating below would warm his back.
“Good book, Monkey? Which one did you choose to read next?”
“The one Grandma bought me when we were in Idris. With the Olympians.”
“Oh yes, that’s a good one. Thoroughly researched, some aspects not quite correlating with the truth, but well. Rick had always liked to exaggerate.”
“I guess. The girl in the book reminds me of Charlie a bit.”
“Speaking of her, did you already think of a birthday present for her?”
Rafael made a whiney sound, clapping his hands over his face. Magnus laughed. “Max, you should help your brother out. You always come up with good ideas – what do you think Charlotte would like for her birthday?”
They engaged in a serious conversation about what girls liked in general and the Branwell sisters in particular since Charlie was Rafe’s first and best friend although they were attending different classes, her sister Ellie sitting next to Max in his first year of school. They were interrupted when they heard Alec entering the apartment, the familiar sounds of him stuffing away his gear drifting over before he joined them in the kitchen.
“Hello there, I see you already got things on the road.” He went over, kissing Max’ head on the way – the boy totally focused on stirring some kind of sauce in a bowl, stucking out his tongue without noticing it. Alec embraced his husband from behind pecking his cheek. “Smells good.”
“Thank you. The boys were hoping you could help them with some really hard tasks: Banana bread and Charlotte Branwell’s favorite color.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, but let me change and I will see what I can do,” Alec chuckled, going over to Rafe to tousle his hair affectionately.
“You alright, champ?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Be right back.” He dropped his voice conspiratorially. “Get the eggs out of the fridge and make sure to protect them from your little brother.”
Rafael grinned at him jumping from his place at the window. Alec and Magnus had learned very early that as much as Rafael loved and cared for Max, the idea of being the more grown-up, responsible son made him feel proud and valued in a very special way. Besides, Max was indeed a whirlwind most of the time, totally carefree, not taking anything serious, but with an unbelievable good heart nonetheless. Violet-sparkling broken eggs dripping from the kitchen ceiling were nothing unusual in the Lightwood-Bane household.
In the course of the evening, the food devoured and the latest day events exchanged, laughing and joking all along, two things were eventually settled: Banana bread with vanilla ice cream meshed surprisingly brilliant with leftovers of peanut sauce and no one of them had any clue what Charlie Branwell’s favorite color was. They decided on anything except from pink. She was that kind of girl after all.