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There were three unspoken rules to the Manhattan Institute of Higher Learning, New York’s premier private K-12 school:
- Respect that the space under the football bleachers was for sex, and only for sex.
- Don’t eat the cafeteria meatloaf.
- Never mention Mr. Bane to Mr. Lightwood or vice versa, unless you wanted the whole class to get extra homework.
Normally, the two teachers were everyone’s favorites. Mr. Bane spoke five languages and always taught his Spanish and French classes dirty words on the down low. He led drama workshops after school, and even the most recalcitrant jocks had been drawn into performing with the colorful and confident teacher. Mr. Lightwood, the school’s resident history teacher, seemed dry, but he made the lessons he taught seem alive. He ran the school’s LGBT club, and all the students knew that the seemingly grumpy teacher was a safe person to turn to for advice. It was like Mr. Schuester and Mr. Feeney were teaching across the hall from each other.
Only Mr. Feeney was young and really, really hot in this version.
But however kind they were to their students, their friendliness didn’t extend to each other. No one was sure how the feud started, but it was clear the two teachers hated each other. They barely spoke to each other, and were completely frosty when they did so, but their feud manifested in other ways. Students were always pointing out historical inaccuracies in Mr. Bane’s plays, and Mr. Lightwood frequently had to break up gossip sessions in Mandarin in his classes. The advanced French class was always late from American History, which had just happened to run over, and for some reason kids in the Ancient Civilizations class always had crafts covered in glitter, even though there was no reason Spanish should involve arts and crafts.
And things would have continued in their passive aggressive peace, until the Field Day incident.
~
Field Day, like at most schools, was an annual tradition at the Institute. It was part fundraiser, part way to give the students something to celebrate at the beginning of the year, and part opportunity to show to their rich parents how engaged their precious children were. There was a pie eating contest, a petting zoo, and the part every vaguely sexual adult and horny high schooler looked forward to: the dunk tank.
The dunk tank was hard to win. Most of the time, the reigning homecoming queen or whichever young nanny had been convinced to climb up left dry, much to the disappointment of the hormonal boys and balding stock broker fathers. Most of the teachers took a good natured turn to let their students get a little revenge, but it was rare anyone got a hit on the small target. The sighs were practically audible when Principal Garroway climbed down, tight, white t-shirt still dry.
Like every year, eventually it was Magnus’s turn. Even though he only taught the high schoolers, he still had a few younger favorites from drama class—it was Shaniqua Long, a bashful middle schooler who barely came up to his chest, who’d coughed up the two dollars to try to dunk him. He smiled at her encouragingly, not even sure she could throw the softball across the distance to the target, when Alec Lightwood of all people crouched down and whispered in her ear. She giggled and handed the ball over to him.
“Wait, that’s cheating!” Magnus said from where he was wobbling on the small seat. He was in a silk shirt, for fuck’s sake. “It’s Shaniqua’s throw—“
“Shaniqua lent me one of her turns,” Alec said, winding his shoulder back to throw the ball. His muscles bulged, and Magnus would have appreciated the view if he wasn’t about to get soaking wet.
Alec, who was the coach of the archery team, because of course this stupid fucking prep school had an archery team, and of course Alec was a former archery star, hit the target right in the center.
Magnus screeched as he fell into the water.
He emerged, sopping wet, shirt clinging to him. The PTA moms fist bumped, but he missed it, because he was too busy glaring at a smirking Alec. Oh, it was on, Lightwood.
~
Things escalated from there, to put it lightly.
~
Luke sighed heavily, tenting his fingers in front of him. In his office, with his dorky wire rim glasses and tweed blazer, he looked every inch the principal he was, instead of the former amateur underwear model in the picture the music department definitely hadn’t found and framed in their lounge. “Why are two of my best teachers suddenly at each others throats?"
Alec sputtered. “We’re not at each other’s throats!” Magnus nodded enthusiastically.
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Clary’s entire glitter stash somehow ended up dispersed in Alec’s classroom. There have been five whoopee cushions on Magnus’s desk chair. Alec’s door plays La Cucaracha every time it opens.”
“Well, if we were in some sort of war, one of us would clearly be winning,” Magnus said snidely.
Luke sighed again. “Unfortunately, I can’t send two grown men to detention. So work whatever is going on between the two of you out. Preferably without any more fart sounds.”
~
Alec followed Magnus to his classroom. It was long after the final period, so the hallways were completely empty, the few remaining students left outside at practice for various sports. Alec shut the door behind him gently. “Luke’s right. We should just go back to hating each other from afar.”
Magnus bit his lip. “Or we could take out our frustration another way,” he said nonchalantly.
“What?”
Magnus shrugged. “Well. Despite our mutual loathing for each other, there clearly is an element of . . .sexual tension, between us.”
Alec stared at him disbelievingly. “You want to have hate sex?”
“Hate sex is the best kind.”
“That’s not even true! Loving sex is the best kind; who have you even been—Mmph!” Alec was cut off as Magnus was suddenly pressed against him, tongue licking Alec’s lips. He gasped in shock, and Magnus’s tongue slipped into his mouth. He wanted to protest, but. Well.
Magnus was really good with that tongue. Alec was sure many a cunning linguist joke had been made about him.
Alec learned something else that day: desk sex was both simultaneously very hot and very uncomfortable.
~
So was storage closet sex.
~
Teacher’s lounge sex was okay, though.
~
They avoided under the football bleachers. Both of them genuinely cared about their students, and neither of them wanted to traumatize anyone for life.
~
“So when are we going to meet this boyfriend of yours?” Izzy asked as she put a plate of . . . something in front of Alec. Jace immediately handed him the most tastebud-destroying hot sauce they owned.
“Huh?” said Alec. He was already staring at her—looking at his food made it only taste worse.
“Dude, you’ve been humming; you’re clearly seeing someone,” Jace said.
“He and Magnus have even stopped their weird feud,” Clary chirped in helpfully. Jesus Christ, working with his brother’s girlfriend was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and he’d once thought frosted tips were cool.
“Um, I’m not seeing anyone,” he said, swallowing quickly. He could still taste the . . .cinnamon? Oh God, why was there cinnamon? “Can’t a guy just be happy?”
“Okay, if you don’t want to tell us about him, fine, but there’s clearly someone,” Izzy said from where she was eating her food like it was, well, edible. Lydia was eating it without wincing even a little; she really deserved a medal. “I want to eventually meet the guy who’s taken the stick out of your ass.”
“Or put one in there,” Jace said, wiggling his eyebrows. Clary smacked him on the shoulder.
But Alec realized with a slowly dawning horror that they were right. He liked Magnus Bane. As a person.
Fuck.
~
“Hey, have you seen that video of the dog rolling down the hill? You’ve gotta see it; it’s adorable.” Magnus was grinning, stupid abs on display, sweaty from sex, and Alec wanted nothing more than to kiss him and watch some stupid Youtube video curled up on the couch in the drama room. Oh God, this was bad. This was really bad.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Alec said quickly.
Magnus almost physically recoiled, and Alec felt really shitty about the look of hurt on his face. “What? Why?”
“Look, Magnus, you were right, the sex was good. . .”
“But?” Magnus asked cautiously.
“But there’s a reason you and I don’t like each other, and I really, really don’t think you’re the kind of person that would be good for me.”
Magnus’s face blanked out, and wow. That was even worse. “I see.” He sat up and started dressing stiffly.
“Magnus. . .” Alec trailed off, not sure what to say. Magnus didn’t say anything, already marching out the door.
Alec sighed, getting dressed himself. There was no point in staying; what was done was done.
Also, he was alone in Magnus’s office, which was kind of awkward.
~
In addition to Field Day, there was also an overnight retreat for the high schoolers in the mountains, because private school. Students milled around, clearly wanting to make a break for the lake as cabin assignments were called out, and Alec focused on trying to make sure none of them killed themselves before they even had breakfast. He was so distracted trying to keep Bobby Miller from putting a slug down Angelica Whitner’s shirt that he barely heard Luke switch to rooming assignments for the teachers.
“Lightwood and Bane!”
Oh God. Oh God no.
He and Magnus had gone back to frosty silence since things had ended between them. Alec wanted to go up to Luke and ask for another roommate, but then he’d have to come up with a reason why. Besides, he could see Magnus practically daring him to be the first to capitulate, and, well, Alec Lightwood had never backed down from a challenge. One night wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
He and Magnus managed to ignore each other throughout the day, and it continued as they retired to their cabin. Magnus returned from the shower shirtless and not completely dry, because of course that asshole would. Alec sighed. “Can we just please be civil?”
“I’ve been nothing but civil to you, Alec,” Magnus said snottily.
“Are you kidding me?” Alec sputtered. He was so angry that he could practically ignore Magnus rubbing lotion onto his body, and was it necessary to rub it on his abs?
“Look, Alec.” Magnus stood up, stomping angrily over to him. “I don’t know what your problem with me is, but—“
“Oh come on,” Alec said, also stepping closer. “You know exactly what I’m talking about—”
Alec wanted to continue. He really did. He wanted to tell Magnus Bane exactly what Alec thought of him, and where he could shove his fake naiveté. But Magnus’s lips were annoyingly red, and it had been awhile since Alec had gotten laid (since the last time he and Magnus had fucked, actually), and there was a stupid drop of water rolling down Magnus’s heaving chest.
Magnus had been right about one thing: while hate sex did nothing to actually solve their argument, it was a really, really good next best thing.
~
The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Alec had a beautiful man in his arms. Everything was perfect.
Except, Alec realized as he woke up slowly, the beautiful man in his arms was someone he hated, and the school busses were supposed to leave to head back to Manhattan around dawn.
“Magnus,” he hissed, shoving him awake. Magnus flailed, and slid off the bed with an oof. “Fuck,” Alec swore. “It’s 10:30!” He stumbled towards the door, only stopping momentarily to pull on his shorts when Magnus yelled pants! behind him.
The campsite was quiet, peaceful, and completely empty.
“Oh my God!” Alec yelled.
“They left us here?” Magnus asked from somewhere behind him.
“They left us here,” Alec confirmed, trudging back to sit on the steps of the cabin next to Magnus. “And of course it’s you of all people I’m stuck with.”
Magnus sighed. “I wish I knew what I had done to make you hate me so much.”
“What do you mean?” Alec sputtered, even more angry without caffeine. “Cut the shit, Magnus. You know exactly what you did!”
“No, I really don’t, Alec.”
“You asked me out the first week I was here!”
Magnus stared at him incredulously. “And you said you’d never be interested in someone like me. Believe me, I remember. Why do you hate me so much because I asked you out?”
“Because I thought you were messing with me!” Alec shouted. “I thought were straight! All anyone could talk about was how you were notorious for macking on your ex girlfriend, and suddenly you were using all these stupid pickup lines on me!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Alec, there is such a thing as bisexuality,” Magnus huffed. His face softened. “I was being genuine; I thought you were cute, and you seemed nice. Those lines were me just being me.”
“Okay, but,” Alec protested, not wanting to let go of his long held anger just quite yet, “I overheard you telling Clary I was a tight ass that first week. Why would you say that if you liked me and didn’t just want to screw with me?”
Magnus buried his head in his hands, groaning. “I said you had a tight ass.”
Alec stared at him disbelievingly. “What?”
“I said you had a tight ass! As in you could definitely bounce quarters off that thing.”
“. . .Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Magnus huffed.
“So we’ve hated each other all this time for nothing.”
“Well, I hated you because you were a legitimate dick to me.”
They sat in silence before Alec sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I misunderstood. If I had known you were genuinely interested in me, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Uh, yeah. You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”
“Well then,” Magnus preened. “We’ve got some time to kill before the school realizes we’re gone and comes back for us. Mr. Lightwood, would you like to go on a date with me?”
~
There were three unspoken rules to the Manhattan Institute of Higher Learning, New York’s premier private high school:
- Respect that the space under the football bleachers was for sex, and only for sex.
- Don’t eat the cafeteria meatloaf.
- Never mention Mr. Bane-Lightwood to Mr. Lightwood-Bane or vice versa, unless you wanted them to get all sappy and gross and keep the whole class late talking about how much they loved each other.