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Magnus Bane had always loved the color blue. The stunning cerulean of a clear summer sky, the shining royal of his favorite silk coat, the mutable blue-green of a stormy sea, the blinding sparkle of a perfect sapphire. So many millions of shades and kinds, sharp and mute, neon and earth-toned, always a color that calmed, made him feel as though all was well even when the world was crumbling around his ears.
But there was nothing so beautiful and calming in the universe like the tone of his son's skin. Little Max wasn't a single shade of blue, oh no. He was violet around his tiny knees and elbows, cornflower in his palms and under his wrists. His hair was such a dark, midnight blue it was nearly black, and only when the sunshine bathed his head was the raven-wing shine apparent.
And his eyes... such lovely blue eyes. Almost the same magnificent warm ice of his father's, and with a similar ability to mesmerize Magnus into indulging him in any way the boy chose.
When Max looked at him with those eyes, it almost drove Magnus to tears, every time. Tears of joy, tears of pride, tears of love, tears of parental terror. But most of all, the mighty High Warlock of Brooklyn wanted to cry with soul-deep relief. To be honored with the chance to love this small being, to teach him all he knew about the world while protecting him from as much of its ugliness as possible, seemed to Magnus the most precious gift. One he never imagined he would be given, or have the opportunity to give.
No one ever loved Magnus the way he loved Max. Certainly his parents no doubt tried before his warlock marks manifested. He had no memory of the day his mother looked into his eyes and found amber-green cat orbs gazing innocently back at her, but he had no doubt that the hurt of her rejection lived still, an open wound in his heart. It had certainly affected his life for all of these many years--he would never admit it aloud, but he understood full well that his perpetual search for love sprung directly from the withdrawal of his parents' affection and his subsequent raising by the compassionate but unemotional Silent Brothers.
Magnus would tear out all of his hair, pry out his finger and toenails, set himself on fire, and allow himself to be eaten alive by a Vetis demon before he would ever allow Max to feel unloved.
The baby cooed at his toy--his favorite Minion, King Bob--babbling in his special, spectacularly brilliant Lightwood-Bane way, like the twosome were sharing the most important conversation of all time, and Magnus clutched his heart for how fiercely it squeezed in response to the moment. He had to flash a brand new handkerchief in to existence to stem the tide of emotion that swept over him.
That's how Alexander found him when he returned home, on his knees beside the little play pad on the nursery floor, snuffling and dabbing at his eyes with a lovely blue flowered Dolce & Gabbana silk as he watched Max demolish block-bridges with King Bob.
"Hey," Alec said softly, crouching beside him and rubbing a hand on Magnus' shoulder. "Everything okay?"
Magnus raised blurry eyes to his life's second-greatest love. He had never felt anything resembling what he felt for Alec before he met the Shadowhunter, and could never have imagined loving anyone more. Until their Max came along.
"Yes, fine." He got up, spelled the little playpen walls around the nursery's borders, and made his way toward the hall, where Alec paused to lean in the doorway. Magnus put his arm around Alec's waist, and tucked into his side. "I was just thinking about family. Ours, specifically. We always say that Max is lucky that we found him...but I think the opposite is even more true. I never thought I would have children or a family of my own, and now..." he gestured at their son with one hand while he dabbed at his eyes with the other. Why did he never wear waterproof mascara? He probably looked like a demented raccoon.
Alec rested his cheek on top of Magnus' head. "Now we have him. And each other."
Magnus squeezed his love tightly. "Isn't blue the loveliest color?"
"Yeah. It sure is."
"If anyone ever teases him over it, I'm turning them chartreuse. With orange stripes and purple pustules. Or possibly, I'll just set them on fire."
Alec chuckled. "I don't think that would go over well, Magnus. Besides, Max is going to need to learn to be strong on his own. We can't follow him around and beat up people who don't like him forever."
Magnus pulled away, horrified. "I can. And would!"
"Magnus..."
"I know, I know. It's just...look at him. How beautiful and special he is. He has horn buds, have you noticed? I've never seen such a stunning manifestation of warlock marks before."
"You might be a little biased. Besides, Catarina is blue."
"Yes, but not blueberry blue. And she certainly doesn't have those lovely horns. They won't be like most of the pointy little things you see on common warlocks. They'll be magnificent."
"They're barely bumps on top of his head, Magnus. You can't tell how they'll grow out."
"Fah. He's our son. They'll be fantastic ram's horns. Or possibly an enormous moose rack! Wouldn't that be darling!"
Alec grabbed Magnus' hand and drew it to his lips. "I think a moose rack would be a little hard to glamour."
"Nonsense. I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn--the most powerful warlock alive, in fact. I can glamour anything."
"Also, don't you think moose antlers would be a little heavy? The doctor says Max probably won't get very big. Can you imagine a 100 pound blue warlock with 200 pound antlers?
"Mm. Good point. Well, it doesn't matter. Whatever he turns out to be, he will be fabulous, and everyone will know his name."
Max made a snotty, distinctly Magnus-like noise of derision, and threw a block across the room with all his little might. It bounced off his headboard and landed with a thunk on the rug. Then the small warlock began tossing his arms in the air, wiggling his fingers and waving his hands in an adorable imitation of his papa. A shower of purple sparks poured from his fingertips.
Magnus hurried into the room, doing his own casting to make sure none of those sparks manifested as anything hot or sharp or loud or that might stain the carpet.
"Yeah," Alec said, "I'm pretty sure he'll be known for being that short blue kid with the horns and the two gay dads that blows things up whenever he sneezes."
Having rescued the carpet, Magnus cupped his hands over their son's ears. "Alexander! You shouldn't say things like that in front of the baby! They're impressionable at this age!"
Alec rolled his eyes and joined his family, crouching down to scoop Max into his arms. The baby took a few moments to vociferously let Alec know what he thought about the current situation, and Alec nodded gravely as he listened.
"Yes, I know. No, of course Dad didn't mean what he said. I worry about you, that's all. You just need to watch those hands." He took possession of said appendages and began pretending to eat them with loud gobbling sounds. The baby screeched and giggled in delight.
Magnus sighed, and that feeling overtook him once more. His heart swelled and his eyes went wet yet again, and he was filled with the sudden urge to sing Kenny Loggin's rendition of Danny's Song -- a sure sign it was time for a drink... or twelve.
"I love you so much, Alexander," he sniffled, and wrapped his arms around his family.
"I love you, Magnus. We both do."
"Papa!" Max announced.
Magnus was suddenly in need of yet another new handkerchief. He decided on plain old, absorbent cotton this time.
"He is so your son," Alec said, more than a few tears edging his own voice as well, "First word 'No,' second word 'Papa.' Nice."
"It is nice, isn't it?" Magnus wailed, and his son banged his palms comfortingly on Magnus' head as he buried his face in Alec's chest and sobbed. He cared not a whit that the baby was crushing his carefully styled coif.
And the only blue Magnus Bane ever disliked-- of depression, loneliness, despondency--seemed gone from his life forever. He would not miss those colors at all.