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half-bakedboy · 3 years

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Life Begins at Night (read on ao3)

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Rated: General Summary: “Wanna walk with me?” Magnus asked, holding his hand out to Alec again. Alec hesitated, glancing toward the front of the house as the red and blue lights flashed. He could go back inside and see if Andrew needed him, but there was something exciting about taking Magnus’ hand and seeing where the night brought him.

So he pressed his palm to Magnus’ and pulled him down the alley, both of them laughing and gasping for breath as they ran.

A gift to the incredible @bidnezz for her support and general amazingness ♥️

Alec paced back and forth to the beat of the excessive bass thumping from the frat house beside him and groaned. He stared down at the crumpled paper in his hands and read through the words he had thought were perfect only a few hours before he had arrived at the house that now seemed to laugh at him as he spoke.

“Ever since I first saw you, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life gazing into your ocean blue eyes,” he sighed and cleared his throat before continuing, “I have wanted to run my fingers through your curls and hold your strong jaw in my palm since before you said your first words to me-- God, no. That’s so stalkerish.” Alec threw his head back in defeat when a small chuckle shocked him into turning around.

“Who are you talking to?” The man said with his hands on his hips. Alec had seen him around before - Magnus Bane, abstract art protégé - when he wandered the halls of the arts building at his college.

“I’m not talking to anyone,” Alec retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m-- practicing?” He sighed in defeat and held up the torn paper so that Magnus could see he wasn’t crazy. He still looked at Alec as if he was, taking a few steps forward to grab the paper from Alec’s hands. He studied it for a few moments before raising his eyes at Alec.

“‘I want to brush my fingers through your curled hair until you fall asleep’?” Magnus read with clear judgment in his tone. Alec blushed and ran a hand over his hair, resisting the urge to tug it from his skull. “You can’t be serious about this?”

“Oh, like you could do better? I’m sure you’ve never even had to worry about pining after someone, looking like,” Alec gestured over the impeccable outfit Magnus had on, the way his hair was perfectly quaffed, and his flawless face of makeup that Alec found himself surprisingly jealous of, “that.”

Magnus laughed before he said, “It’s not all about looks, darling, but thank you for noticing.” He winked at Alec who, in turn, blushed an even deeper shade of red. He wasn’t used to such forwardness from men. The ones he hung around with were usually Jace’s friends, frat boys who were so obsessed with their heterosexuality, they made sure not to seem even a little gay in front of their homosexual brother.

“Well, then what would you suggest?” Alec asked because he figured he couldn’t dig himself into a deeper hole than he had already. Either Magnus would laugh at him again or he would give him advice and Alec was really ready for either option.

“Andrew doesn’t want to hear about how handsome he is,” Magnus said, waving a hand at the house beside them. “He’s a frat boy and frat boys already know, Alexander.” Before Alec could fight the stereotype, Magnus raised his eyebrows at him, a clear challenge that Alec wasn’t ready to face, and Magnus’ words echoed through his head again.

“How do you know my name?” Alec asked, tilting his head.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Magnus responded easily before glancing down at the letter again. “As I said, Andrew doesn’t need the reminder that his hair is curly or that his eyes are blue. How does he make you feel?”

And wasn’t that the question. Whenever Andrew walked into a room, Alec felt his heart stop beating and all of the air in his lungs seemed to push from his chest. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think whenever Andrew was around. They would have late-night talks when Andrew was too drunk to remember the next morning and Alec felt a need to take care of him. He would tuck Andrew into bed and leave him water and headache medicine for his impending hangover. Sometimes, Andrew would peer at him with narrowed eyes and tell Alec that he was the best friend he’d ever had and Alec would feel his stomach flutter in happiness.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Alec trailed off as he hung his head down in disappointment. If he couldn’t even explain it to a practical stranger, how was he supposed to let Andrew really know how he made Alec feel? Magnus sighed and held his hand out, urging Alec to grab it with a soft, friendly smile. Alec did as he was asked and Magnus pulled him closer until they were chest to chest, face to face, and Magnus looked at him as if he was the world. Alec had to look away.

“I’d want to hear about what I do to your heart, how it flutters with only a gentle caress,” Magnus whispered, resting his palm on Alec’s chest delicately. He swayed them back and forth to a beat that didn’t even remotely match the steady one pounding from inside the house, but Alec was too lost to really care. “I’d want to hear about what I do to your brain, how you can’t think straight with even just a glance, how I make you think about the future and how bright it could be with me in it.” Magnus held Alec’s chin softly in his fingers and ducked so that Alec could look into his eyes before he said, “I’d want to hear about what I do to your…” He slid his hand down to the belt of Alec’s jeans but before he could move forward, Alec catapulted himself back with wide eyes.

“That’s-- No, I-- This isn’t--” Alec sputtered, pulling at the collar of his shirt because he wasn’t sure when it had gotten so warm outside. His heart was pounding, and his skin felt as if it was on fire, and his mind reeled with thoughts of kittens and mangled bodies as he tried to push back the arousal that had settled low in his stomach.

Before he could chastise Magnus for his actions, Jace came running out through the fence yelling, “Someone invited jailbait, we’ve gotta go!” Alec stared up at the sky and cursed his luck as he saw all of his fraternity escaping the house through windows and doors alike. When he glanced back at Magnus, he looked almost pleased and Alec really couldn’t figure out why.

“Wanna walk with me?” Magnus asked, holding his hand out to Alec again. Alec hesitated, glancing toward the front of the house as the red and blue lights flashed. He could go back inside and see if Andrew needed him, but there was something exciting about taking Magnus’ hand and seeing where the night brought him.

So he pressed his palm to Magnus’ and pulled him down the alley, both of them laughing and gasping for breath as they ran.

“So, what are you doing at a frat party? I didn’t really think that was your thing,” Alec said once they were far enough away to slow their stride and catch their breath.

Magnus laughed and said, “My roommate, Clary, just started seeing--”

“Izzy,” Alec interrupted with a laugh. “She’s my sister,” Alec clarified when Magnus tilted his head in confusion.

“Ahh, that makes so much sense,” Magnus noted with a small chuckle. Alec glanced over at him only slightly offended as to what that meant. Magnus patted his shoulder and said, “I’ve heard about you twice. Once from Izzy who referred to you as Alec and once from a classmate who said you were Alexander and that you sometimes wandered the halls of the arts building and no one knew why.”

Alec blushed and explained, “It’s a lot less stressful than walking around the law building.” Magnus nodded in agreement. “I didn’t realize that anyone had noticed me,” Alec said after a few moments of silence. He was honestly surprised that anyone knew his name, but he thought that was bound to happen when he hung around with his group of frat brothers. He wasn’t used to attention but when he entered college, there was more on him than he ever expected.

“You stick out like a sore thumb among us artistic type,” Magnus noted as he gestured to the outfit Alec was wearing.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t think it was too noticeable; his button-down light blue shirt was tucked in at the waist and covered by a grey jacket that Alec considered casual. He had dark jeans covering his legs with a black belt holding them up and his shoes were simple sneakers.

“I mean,” Magnus laughed, tugging at the hem of the jacket, “you’re always so put together while the rest of us are splattered with paint or charcoal and our clothes are usually mismatched or covered in a smock.” He had a point. Magnus’ outfit was brightly colored and sparkling with glitter and what Alec had assumed was a leftover assignment. The pattern that covered his shirt didn’t even remotely match the cardigan that kept him warm and his jeans were spotted with bleach and torn along the thighs. Somehow it matched what little Alec knew about Magnus, though.

“Yeah, you artists are definitely eccentric,” Alec said, hoping the whisper of jealousy in his voice was firmly hidden by the subtle insult. Before Magnus could be too offended, Alec added, “There’s something homey about the arts building and the unique personalities I encounter there.” Magnus laughed, nodding his head enthusiastically and the sound took Alec by surprise. It wasn’t his usual suave chuckle, it was more a burst of sunlight that lit up the darkness.

“Eccentric and unique are definitely two ways to describe the art majors. We’ve all just stopped conforming to the way society has wanted us to be, you know? Makes us able to represent ourselves whichever way we please and just say ‘fuck it’ to all the normalized bullshit that high school forces on us,” Magnus rambled, rolling his eyes dramatically. “College was an escape for me,” Magnus admitted, staring down at his feet as if contemplating how much he could tell Alec.

“College is a prison for me.” Alec was surprised that was the bit of information he decided to divulge with Magnus and he wasn’t quite sure where it came from. Izzy had been the only one let in on Alec’s miniature crisis regarding his education and even then it was after a few too many drinks. “How was it an escape?” Alec asked in his best attempt at changing the subject.

Magnus shot him a narrow-eyed glance, but said, “It was a new start. My brother, Raphael, and I moved to New York from the middle of nowhere, got a one-bedroom apartment that we can barely afford, and are both pursuing our new lives in one of the biggest and best cities in the world. We couldn’t have asked for a better beginning.”

It seemed so simple to Alec. They left behind whatever world they were living in as if it didn’t matter and Alec couldn’t help the jealousy that seemed to tease at the back of his neck. He had wanted that for himself and his siblings but while Jace and Izzy were both on their own journeys to success, Alec was the one that had to keep their parents happy. That meant studying in the law building while pining after the happiness he felt when he entered the arts building and he had learned to be okay with that.

“Prison isn’t exactly the ideal place to be during such formative years, Alexander,” Magnus said, nudging his shoulder against Alec’s to gain his attention. Alec huffed out a laugh and nudged back, biting on his lip as he contemplated what to say to Magnus. He knew the words held a question and was grateful Magnus was letting him decide if he was ready to share. He glanced around at the empty street, the quiet of the park beside them, and closed his eyes as the cold night air whipped across his cheeks. He decided that if he only had one night to be himself, he would let Magnus in as much as he could.

“I started last year in pre-law, waiting for my siblings to join so that I could finally find the nerve to do what I really wanted to do. I figured one year in a major that I wasn’t exactly excited for was worth it because it was just that - one year. But my parents,” Alec sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “they finally started talking about me. They tell their friends all about my schooling and my ‘career aspirations’ and I-- I’ve disappointed my parents enough, you know?” Alec admitted. Magnus stopped walking and eyed Alec curiously, like he had said something Magnus couldn’t quite figure out. “What?” Alec asked with a nervous laugh.

“You never really struck me as the type to be into anything other than law,” Magnus said before he shrugged and kept walking. Alec was stunned for a moment and jogged to catch up, slowing once he met Magnus’ stride. “So, what is it that you really want to do?” Magnus asked and there was a small part of Alec that had hoped he wouldn’t.

He took a deep breath and whispered, “Photography.” He waited for laughter, even a shocked gasp to leave Magnus’ lips and a dramatic roll of his eyes, but none of that came. Magnus just kept walking and Alec had to shuffle to keep up.

“Photography,” Magnus repeated, nodding his head. “You’re not very personable so I feel like portraits aren’t quite your thing. Landscapes?” Magnus guessed. Alec tried not to be offended by his very insulting - yet very true - statement.

“Ruins, mostly. Abandoned buildings, urban decay, that sort of thing,” Alec explained with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “There’s so much history in the world, New York City even, that everyone just leaves alone and it makes me want to portray it in a different light, you know?”

That time, Magnus stopped and stared at Alec silently. Alec could tell there were words just on the tip of his tongue, but he was calculating them carefully in his head before he spoke. Alec wondered briefly if Magnus knew how much he appreciated that.

“Got any photos?” Magnus asked, holding out his hand. Alec reached for his pocket on instinct before shaking his head. Magnus rested his other hand on his hip and cocked an eyebrow at Alec, calling his bluff almost immediately. “You’re talking to another artist, my darling. We always keep our work on hand,” Magnus noted. It was the first time Alec had ever been referred to as such and the word made his face heat even through the brisk wind on his cheeks.

He sighed and pulled out his phone before finding the perfect picture to show Magnus. He chose the one that first pushed him to want to work on his hobby; an abandoned subway track with rusted over rails, graffiti on the walls, and just a bit of light shining in through the entryway that hadn’t been boarded up securely. Alec had snuck his way in when he saw the signs covered in trash bags, knowing that something worth seeing must exist behind the loosely placed boards.

He was alone - he often was when he had his camera in his hands - but that wasn’t enough to deter him from what could have been beautiful. And it was exactly that. He sat in the subway tunnel for hours until he remembered that his cell would not have service underground and, upon leaving, was met with multiple texts from family and friends worried about where he had been. He wasn’t nervous, though. There was something so serene about being away from the noise of New York City in an abandoned place that was all his own.

Magnus cleared his throat and said, “This is… really good, Alexander.” Alec gaped at him for a moment before smiling nervously.

“It’s not,” he said on instinct. Izzy had always told him he wasn’t the best at accepting compliments and he realized that was even more true when they were coming from someone as beautiful as Magnus. He was staring up at Alec like he couldn’t believe the photo was actually his so he scrolled to the next set, tucking himself a little closer to Magnus so he could explain the photos better.

“Is this--?” Magnus began but Alec interrupted him with an enthusiastic nod.

“Loew's 46th Street Theater in Brooklyn!” Alec said excitedly. He remembered that day vividly. He had just been accepted into college and was torn between the joy of heading to a prestigious university and catering to his parent’s chosen career path. He wanted to be as happy as everyone else was, but something inside was telling him to grab his camera and go. So he did.

“How did you even get these?” Magnus asked, clearly stunned. Alec wasn’t quite sure how to explain. He had always heard about the theater and how it was almost impossible to see the back rooms because it had been turned into a furniture store after it closed down. It was the challenge Alec had been looking for and he chanced a midnight adventure to get the best pictures.

Alec explained, “I just turned on the lights and all of a sudden, I witnessed some of the most beautiful architecture I had ever seen. To this day, I still have no idea how I made it out of there without being caught, but--” Alec paused as Magnus glanced up at him. He realized suddenly how close he was to Magnus and took a small step back before finishing, “That night was what had me pushing through my first year of pre-law so that I could eventually do what I wanted. It was… magical.” Alec didn’t think it was a strong enough word.

“I had a moment like that, too,” Magnus offered as he handed the phone back to Alec who pocketed it quickly glad for the spotlight to get off of him. “Right after I graduated, I took Raphael out to get some dinner at this seedy barbeque joint a few blocks from our foster parent’s house. Across the street, there was an artist building this impeccable structure in an alley between two tall buildings. I couldn’t understand why any artist would want such incredible work hidden from the public. So, naturally, I grabbed Raphael’s hand and went up to ask.”

“Naturally,” Alec agreed with a laugh. He didn’t know much about Magnus, but he seemed like a man who did exactly as he pleased. He could picture a younger Magnus walking up to a seemingly professional artist and questioning all of their life choices just because he had wanted answers; the image alone made Alec smile wider as he urged Magnus to continue.

“The artist told me his name was Ragnor Fell and that if he was going to be known for his art, he didn’t have to publicize it or make it known to the world it was there. Someone would find it and decide on their own if it was worth sharing with others,” Magnus explained with a soft, reminiscent smile on his face. “Raphael was 12 at the time and told Ragnor that he would tell everyone at school about it. Ragnor seemed pretty chuffed and gave us this makeshift card that was splattered in clay and burned around the edges. I still have it,” Magnus said as he reached for his wallet.

“Ragnor Fell? Why does that sound familiar?” Alec said as he glanced down at the card. It definitely wasn’t mass-produced like the ones he had in his back pocket that his parents forced him to carry for ‘networking purposes’. It was an artist’s card, that much was clear.

“He’s a professor now. Spent thirty years creating sculptures and gained enough fame to teach New York City’s up and coming art students,” Magnus said, his face scrunching with joy. Alec thought it looked wonderful on him. “He’s also my mentor, though he would never admit to that if you asked,” Magnus added with a wave of his hand.

“Seems like a great guy,” Alec said as he handed the card back to Magnus delicately. It seemed important to him and Alec hadn’t wanted the light sprinkle of rain to ruin it.

“Oh, he’s an absolute grump and one of the surliest people I’ve ever met,” Magnus laughed, “but he has taught me everything I know and pushed me to follow my dream when no one else did. I owe a lot to him.” There was a fondness in Magnus’ tone that had Alec’s heart clenching in his chest. He had a mentor, a law professor who really only helped him write his resume and cover letter, but he had never felt a real connection to her. She was a friend of his mother’s and wrote him recommendations based on his intelligence and his last name, and that was really all she was.

“Lightwood!” The voice and the rumble of a car pulling up next to the pair knocked him from his thoughts. When he leaned to glance in the window, he saw Andrew in the passenger’s seat. His heart soared for a moment but was crushed by the weight of a thousand tons when he saw Lorenzo Rey in the driver’s seat, their hands intertwined tightly.

“Hey, uh, Andrew, what’s up?” Alec asked, as he stepped up the car.

“We’re headed over to Raj’s place for a new party since the other one was busted up. You in?” Andrew asked, gesturing to the back seat. On any other night, Alec would have launched himself into the car, eager at a chance to spend time with Andrew. Alec glanced over his shoulder and saw Magnus shuffling a few steps away, and decided he didn’t want that night to end just yet.

“Nah, I think, uh, Magnus and I are gonna keep walking,” Alec said softly, patting where the window had rolled down.

“In the rain?” Lorenzo said with clear judgment in his tone. It was barely a sprinkle and after the day of exams and night of rehearsing a speech he wasn’t sure he would ever admit to, Alec was ready for the quiet and calm Magnus had brought him.

“We can’t control the weather, Rey,” Magnus said teasingly as he rested a hand on Alec’s shoulder, leaning down so the two could see him.

“You sure?” Andrew asked and a sliver of hope smoothed up Alec’s spine, quickly stopped by the way Magnus’ hand felt on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Alec nodded with a smile, “I’ll catch the next one.”

As they drove off, Magnus said, “Underhill is the Andrew you wrote that ridiculous love letter to?” Alec was momentarily offended but the smirk on Magnus’ face had Alec shoving his shoulder gently with his own.

“What about it?” Alec asked as Magnus shoved him back. He lost his balance and almost tripped over the edge of the sidewalk, but Magnus grabbed his hand and pulled him back. He was surprised by just how much he didn’t want Magnus to let go when he finally did.

“He doesn’t seem like… your type?” Magnus noted with a noncommittal wave of his hands. Alec eyed him suspiciously for a moment.

“And what exactly do you think is my type?” Alec asked, narrowing his eyes at Magnus who considered the question with a hum.

“I pictured more tall, dark, and handsome - like yourself - with an air of mystery around him. You don’t seem like the type of person who goes after someone so ‘what you see is what you get’,” Magnus said surely. Alec couldn’t help but laugh because that was exactly what Andrew was. There wasn’t any mystery about him. He was a physical therapy major who wanted to go into sports medicine and if that didn’t work out, had backup plans to do security at one Yankees Stadium. He was exactly what you thought he was and left nothing hidden. Alec thought that might have been what first attracted him to Andrew so much.

“He’s… nice,” Alec supplied. Magnus scoffed as Alec added, “He’s a good friend, very reliable and energetic, not afraid of who he is.”

“If you wanted a golden retriever, I could always take you to one of those dreadful puppy mills they always bust in the city,” Magnus said with a tone of seriousness that had Alec hunching over in laughter. When he finally composed himself, Magnus was grinning with him, a light blush on his cheeks that seemed to highlight the perfect structure of his face.

“What’s wrong with wanting no surprises?” Alec asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Magnus seemed to consider his question before skipping over to one of the stone benches at the edge of the park. Alec sat beside him, closer than he thought was necessary, and they both watched the small fountain bubble as it came to life.

“An artist hates predictability, don’t you agree? You go into those abandoned buildings and forgotten about places because you don’t know what you’re going to find, if I had to guess.” Alec nodded, but stayed silent. “And that’s exciting. It makes your heart beat a little faster and makes your skin tingle with excitement for the unknown.” Magnus punctuated his point by dancing his fingers up Alec’s arm until they tickled the back of his neck. Alec laughed and shoved his hand away, letting his own rest on Magnus’ thigh comfortably as Magnus played with his fingers.

“You sure know quite a lot about me, huh?” Alec muttered as he stared down at their hands. Magnus hummed softly and flipped Alec’s hand over to draw an unfamiliar pattern onto his palm.

Magnus shook his head and said, “I like knowing people; what makes them who they are and why they are what they are. The more you know about people, the less they can lie to you.” There was a pain in Magnus’ voice that Alec wanted to sooth. He wanted to wrap Magnus in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he reminded himself that wasn’t his place.

“Getting to know people is such a pain,” Alec said with a huff of humorless laughter. “What’s to stop them from lying about who they are in order to be who you want them to be?” It was a question Alec had often asked and one that he even often found attributing to himself. His entire life felt like a lie. Sitting there with Magnus was the truest he had felt in, well, years.

“Does anyone really know who they are?” Magnus asked with a sigh.

“You seem to,” Alec noted with a gentle nudge against Magnus’ shoulder. Magnus let out a burst of laughter that seemed to explode through the night air like a firework.

“Oh, do I?” Magnus said, but Alec saw the question for what it was. He was trying to skew the conversation away from himself and Alec was shocked by the revelation that Magnus might have something he wasn’t confident about.

“I mean, yeah,” Alec began, “that was my impression of you the first time I saw you. You’re like, this out and proud gay man--”

“Bisexual,” Magnus interrupted, holding up a finger. “That distinction is very important to me,” he added with a strict nod.

Alec laughed and said, “You’re just proving my point, Magnus! You know exactly who you are and aren’t afraid to let everyone around you know that. You just exude this confidence in every single thing you do. The way you dress just yells at people to look and admire, your work stands out above almost everything I’ve seen in the arts building, hell, even your makeup tells your story and that’s plastered all over your face.” Once Alec had started, he found himself unable to stop, but Magnus stayed silent so he assumed he didn’t care. “From what you’ve told me about your brother, you’re close with him despite the age difference and you’d do anything to protect him and you’re just so unafraid of anything, it’s frankly annoying,” Alec finished with a deep breath, wincing as he realized everything he had just admitted. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” Magnus asked quickly and Alec gaped at him embarrassingly.

“I-- what?”

Magnus stood up and offered his hand before continuing, “By the look of those clouds over there, it’s about to start pouring and I don’t think I’m quite finished learning what I need to know about you. So?” he paused and raised an eyebrow at Alec, reaching his hand a little further until Alec had no choice but to take it.

“Y-Yeah. Yes. Lead the way,” Alec decided as he shot onto his feet. Magnus squeezed his hand and took off running down the street, dragging Alec behind him. The rain started cascading from the sky as if it had opened up just to make their night more fun and Magnus’ laughter echoing through the air was like music to Alec’s ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so much, been so carefree, and he didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

By the time Magnus pulled him up a set of stone steps, he was soaked from head to toe. He should’ve been annoyed or uncomfortable with the way his socks seemed to squish between his toes or how his jacket was too heavy on his shoulders, but Magnus glanced back at him with the brightest grin he had ever seen and he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but happy.

“I can’t get my keys,” Magnus complained as he tried to reach into the pocket of his drenched jeans. Alec laughed and pried his jacket down his arms before holding it over Magnus’ head to try and shield him from the falling rain. Finally, Magnus grabbed his keys and unlocked the door and the two tumbled in, a fit of giggling echoing through the entryway.

Magnus shushed him through a smile and Alec whispered, “What?” Magnus gestured toward one of the rooms down the hall that had a dark sign noting ‘Raphael’ with an angry face drawn beside the name.

“He’s a great kid, just not exactly warm and fuzzy,” Magnus whispered, shrugging as he slipped off his shoes and cardigan. Alec thought they must have looked like wet dogs that just came in from playing with the way they were soaked to the bone, bright grins on their faces. “I can throw your clothes in the drier and you can borrow something, if you want,” Magnus offered as he started tiptoeing toward an area blocked off by an intricate tapestry. Alec ran his fingers along it as he took in his surroundings.

The apartment was just as Alec would have expected. Magnus had mentioned it was one bedroom and stupidly, Alec thought Magnus would be the one with the bedroom. Of course, Magnus was too kind or selfless to not let the little brother he had spoken so highly of sleep in anything but the best conditions. When Alec pulled back the tapestry, he saw a mattress on the floor with silk sheets and a wardrobe with eccentric clothing hanging from the bar. Alec glanced back at Magnus with his eyebrows raised.

“We can’t afford much, but we make the most of the money we do get,” Magnus explained with a shrug.

“Silk sheets are for sure making the most,” Alec teased. He gulped when he saw Magnus strip off his shirt and pants, tossing them into the dryer before holding a hand out to Alec. Alec tensed and ran a hand through his hair, sighing when it came back covered in rainwater.

Magnus laughed and said, “If I wanted you naked, I would find a way to get you that way, Alexander. I just don’t want you to catch a cold.” Alec narrowed his eyes at Magnus’ blatant flirtation and looked around for clothes he could possibly wear next. Magnus sighed and dug into his wardrobe, pulling out a t-shirt and sweatpants that were covered in dried paint spots and seemed a size too small.

“No boyfriend’s clothes that might fit me better than these?” Alec asked. It was a blatant way of asking if Magnus was single and if he caught on, Alec was none the wiser. Magnus just shook his head and tossed the clothes at him forcefully.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you walk around in wet clothes or naked, really. It’s very selfless of me to even offer you my most prized comfy clothes,” Magnus decided, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Are you gonna put clothes on?” Alec asked because trying not to stare at Magnus’ bare torso and long legs was getting impossibly harder by the second.

“They always told me law students were no fun,” Magnus huffed, grabbing for a tank top and black yoga pants before sliding them on. Alec hoped his disappointment at losing the beautiful sight wasn’t too obvious on his face. “Will you get changed so I can start the drier!” Magnus yelled with a laugh as Alec hesitated again. He turned away from Magnus and pulled off his jacket, shirt, and pants before quickly pulling on the clothes Magnus had offered to him. He didn’t realize how cold he was until a chill raced through his body.

“Do you, uh, have heat?” Alec asked, glancing around the apartment. He felt ridiculous for even considering, but Magnus hadn’t been too open about his financial situation and Alec didn’t want to offend him.

A laugh burst from Magnus’ lips before he said, “We might be poor, Alexander, but we can afford the basic essentials of living.” Alec went to open his mouth to apologize, but Magnus slammed the drier shut and held up his hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I appreciate you not being judgmental of those a bit less fortunate than you,” Magnus said with a soft smile on his face. He walked toward the kitchen area and started a teapot before asking, “I’ve got tea and hot chocolate. What would you like?” Alec considered him for a moment, tilting his head as he let the long silence between them linger.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” he decided as he sat down on the edge of the mattress. It was comfortable, maybe more so than the one the college provided him, but his knees were at an awkward angle since it was so close to the ground and Alec struggled to get comfortable.

“I’m not here much. Usually, I stay at the arts building until late or we have dinner over at Ragnor’s house. Raphael tends to hang out with his friends until curfew and when they are here, they’re usually locked in his room playing video games so there wasn’t much use for a couch or anything,” Magnus said, as if Alec cared how he decided to furnish his home.

“You don’t have to explain,” Alec said quickly, “I think it’s nice how big and open this room is without all the unneeded furniture. My parents always had a huge sectional and decorative chairs the kids weren’t even allowed to sit on and it seemed like such a waste of space, honestly.” He hoped it didn’t sound like a brag and when laughter sounded from Magnus’ lips, he was grateful for it.

“I was with a family like that once; the Penhallows. Some of New York’s finest politicians who were foster parents solely for the public image. Their home was fit for royalty so I can’t complain about them too much,” Magnus said with a shrug as he made his way back to Alec with two cups of tea. Alec smiled at him in thanks and moved over enough for Magnus to sit, which proved to be unneeded as Magnus sat crossed-legged on the floor in front of the mattress. He leaned his head back against the bed and smiled up at Alec softly.

“Hi,” Alec said lamely, feeling momentarily stunned once again by how vibrantly amazing Magnus looked even when he was still slightly damp.

“So, Alexander Lightwood, sibling of Jace and Isabelle Lightwood, a pre-law student with a passion for photography, and gay?” Magnus guessed and he snapped when Alec nodded in response. “Out?” Magnus asked as he stirred his tea.

Alec nodded and then shook his head. “Yes and no? I mean, I’ve told everyone that matters like my siblings, people I care about, and I don’t really hide it,” Alec hesitated and then sighed, deciding to trust Magnus, “but my family is of the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ mindset and their perfectly crafted image would be impacted if they were to have a son with untoward preferences.” He wondered if the sentence sounded as rehearsed as he thought it did and Magnus’ small smirk into his teacup confirmed that it absolutely did.

“You care about their image?” Magnus asked but it was clear he knew the answer. Alec took a large gulp of his tea, ignoring the burn on his tongue as he thought of how to respond.

“Family is everything, right?” Alec said with a noncommittal shrug. Magnus hummed for a moment and then leaned his head back against the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

“I’ve always been of the ‘family is what you make it’ mindset. I had birth parents who should never have had children, same with Raphael, so we’ve always had to make our own families,” Magnus corrected. Alec nodded and tapped the edge of his cup with a nervous finger.

“You and Raphael aren’t real-- I mean, aren’t broth-- aren’t related?” Alec stuttered before wincing at how stupid he sounded. He wondered where all of his cool went. He had it at the beginning of the night but at some point, his view of Magnus had changed and he was too enthralled in getting to know him to analyze it.

“Relax, Alexander, it takes a bit to get the vernacular down. Raphael is my brother in every way but blood. We crossed paths in a few foster homes when he was a toddler, and when I aged out of the system, Raphael was just shy of 8-years-old. I worked hard and kept in contact with his foster family until I was able to obtain guardianship of him,” Magnus recalled, smiling at the memory. “He wasn’t eligible for adoption until he was fourteen and by that point, he didn’t want to have another set of parents. We figured it out with social workers and court and here we ended up.”

Alec gaped at Magnus and let out an unsuspecting huff of laughter before he said, “You are so much more than I thought you were, Magnus Bane.”

“I could say the same about you, Alexander Lightwood. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by this evening,” Magnus admitted as he finished the rest of his tea. Alec followed suit as Magnus stood up and offered to bring his cup back to the kitchen. When Magnus wasn’t facing him anymore, Alec let his eyes search the apartment. He had been so drawn to the tapestry that hung from the ceiling, he didn’t see the beautiful structures that lined almost every window.

“Did you make all of these?” Alec asked as he moved toward the first piece that had caught his eye. It was a band of flat metal that seemed to flow off of the base in gentle waves. There were three thin cylindrical pieces that struck through the band as if cutting off the life it could have. Alec didn’t consider himself an art critic, but he knew immediately that there must have been a story behind it.

“I made that when I was going through the court battle with Raph,” Magnus said as he wandered up next to Alec. He was close enough that Alec could feel the heat radiating off of him and he wanted to hold Magnus in his arms until they shared the warmth between them. He shook the thought away when Magnus continued, “I felt like Raph and I were just going with the flow, wanting the freedom that came with each other,” he stroked a finger over the band, “but there were always people that wanted to cut us down and inhibit our future.”

Alec took the chance to rest his hand against Magnus’ as it fell back to his side, hoping the touch was as comforting to Magnus as it was to him. Magnus glanced up at him, his lips slightly parted and his makeup smudged from the rain. Alec couldn’t stop himself from swiping his thumb underneath Magnus’ eye to brush away some fallen mascara. Magnus’ eyes widened and Alec went to move away, but gentle fingers laced with his and he was powerless to tear his hand away.

“Why metal?” Alec said to break the silence that started weighing on his mind. Magnus’ lips turned up into a small smile and he peered back at the sculpture behind him.

“Metal stands the test of time - much like photography in this day and age,” Magnus noted, “and it’s something I always had access to. Most other forms of art require materials that are hard to find; clay, paint, brushes. Metal can be found in the city streets and for the most part, that’s where I started to find my interest in sculptures.”

Alec tilted his head and asked, “The streets?” He had hoped that didn’t mean what he thought it might, but Magnus’ face fell and Alec held onto his hand a little tighter.

“I was a dumb kid, really. I thought that living on my own on the streets of New York City was better than living with a foster family who was using me as a paycheck. I know now that wasn’t remotely true for most of the families that took me in, but when you’re unloved by those who were supposed to love you most, it takes a toll,” Magnus explained. Alec nodded slowly and shuffled closer to Magnus as he continued, “I would find pieces of metal on the street - broken fire escapes, rusted dumpsters, fender benders, even silverware the fancy restaurants deemed too flawed for their esteemed guests to use - and then I would create something beautiful to look at when I was surrounded by things that scared me.”

“You made your own distraction,” Alec said in agreement. It was similar to how he got into photography and Magnus seemed to guess at the connection as he looked expectantly at Alec. “Izzy got this digital camera one Christmas when she went through this egotistical modeling phase but she quickly forgot about it. That was the year I came out and my parents decided to get me the straightest and cheapest gifts they could think of,” Alec recalled and Magnus chuckled next to him.

“I hope you kept some of those. I would love to see what they came up with,” Magnus interrupted with a snort. Alec shook his head and rolled his eyes, but there was only fondness in them.

Alec relaxed a little as he continued, “I was so jealous that my parents regarded Izzy as this star child that I stole her camera and left to wander the streets as if either of them would’ve cared. I hopped on the subway, stayed on until the second to last stop, and found myself at this abandoned warehouse. It had these flood lights that cast the most incredible shadows like this building that everyone had forgotten about was finally in the spotlight only to be covered by darkness it couldn’t control. It was--” Alec sighed and resisted the urge to fidget with his fingers because that would have meant pulling his hands away from Magnus’ grasp, “everything I felt. I felt so ridiculous comparing myself to some decrepit building, but I took a few pictures and fell in love with capturing emotions in one little photograph.”

“That’s beautiful, Alexander,” Magnus whispered, stroking his thumb along the back of Alec’s hand. He thought it should have been uncomfortable to be standing in the middle of Magnus’ apartment in the middle of the night still holding hands as if it was impossible for them to let go, but something about it just felt right. Alec wasn’t about to ignore that. “You should just use your passion for photography to get Andrew’s attention, it sure as hell is working for me.”

The sentence knocked Alec out of his thoughts that revolved around Magnus. Andrew didn’t seem nearly as important as he had at the beginning of the night and Alec wondered if that was how it felt to meet someone who changed every aspect of a person’s life. Alec didn’t know much about Magnus but he thought he had known enough; enough to know that there wasn’t even a possibility he would look at Andrew tomorrow and want to wax poetic about his blonde hair and blue eyes. All he could think about was the way Magnus’ hair was stacked so neatly on the top of his head and the way the charcoal around his eyes made the deep brown color pop with flecks of gold.

“So, it’s always been ruins then?” Magnus asked, seemingly to fill the silence of Alec staring at him. Alec blushed and nodded slowly, struggling with what to say next. “What else do you like to photograph?” Magnus asked.

“The stars,” Alec blurted before he could stop himself. Magnus’ eyes brightened as he looked up at Alec, raising his eyebrows for him to continue. “I, uh, like the predictability of them. When I point my camera up at the sky, I’m gonna see practically the same thing I saw the night before. It’s… calming,” Alec decided. Magnus pulled his hand away and Alec had to stop himself from holding on tighter.

“I wanna show you something,” Magnus said excitedly as he skipped toward the kitchen. He turned off the kitchen lights before moving toward the front door, checking the lock before glancing back at Alec. “Go lie down on the bed,” Magnus ordered and Alec’s cheeks reddened noticeably. Magnus rolled his eyes and explained, “I’m not trying to take advantage of you, Alexander, I just want you to lie down.” Alec was briefly saddened that Magnus wasn’t planning on taking advantage of him, but did as he was told, anyway, propping himself onto his elbows to look back at Magnus.

“Now what?” Alec asked and Magnus just grinned and flicked the main light switch. Alec expected complete darkness, but his eyes darted to the glow-in-the-dark constellations that lit up Magnus’ ceiling. He let his arms fall to his sides and his head rest on the pillow as Magnus slid into the bed beside him. “This is--”

“Out of this world?” Magnus interrupted and Alec nudged him with this shoulder as best as he could from the awkward horizontal angle. Their arms brushed lightly and the backs of their hands slid together, just resting as if neither of them wanted to make the first move. It was like they both sensed the change in the atmosphere where holding hands while in bed, staring at the fake sky, would be a line crossed irreversibly. At the moment, Alec didn’t care. He flipped his hand over and stroked his thumb along Magnus’ skin before curling it under Magnus’ pinky so he could lace their fingers together.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed softly, squeezing Magnus’ hand when it settled in his own. Something about the feeling of Magnus’ skin against his was like the stars aligning, like he was exactly where he was meant to be, and Alec was grateful for whatever had their paths crossing at the party.

“You like photographing ruins because they’re often forgotten about and you like photographing the stars because they rarely change,” Magnus said consideringly as he turned his head toward Alec. Alec glanced back at him and nodded, gulping when he realized how close their faces were. He could feel Magnus’ breath ghosting across his face and was instantly warmed by his body being so close.

“That’s right,” Alec agreed, nuzzling his cheek into the softness of Magnus’ pillowcase.

“That says a lot about you, really,” Magnus noted with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah? And what do you know about me?” Alec asked which seemed to be a ridiculous question because Magnus had learned more about him in the last few hours than most anyone he had known his entire life.

“That you take the time to appreciate the forgotten and seemingly unappreciated and that you find comfort in predictability.” Alec let out a small huff of laughter because Magnus was very right. “This night was anything but predictable, Alexander, at least to me,” Magnus admitted after a few moments of silence. Alec nodded and a small smile found its way to his lips for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I like knowing what’s going to happen,” Alec began, turning his entire body to face Magnus while still gripping his hand tightly, “but the reason I like my abandoned buildings and forgotten about places is because I like being surprised by beautiful things. And you, Magnus Bane, are one of the most beautiful surprises I’ve ever seen.”

He heard the small intake of breath as his words seemed to register in Magnus’ mind and hoped that he didn’t overstep. He had thought that Magnus was as interested as he was, but he had also thought he was in love with Andrew a few hours ago, so his judgment wasn’t always sound.

Before he could retract his statement, Magnus leaned forward and Alec was caught in the most perfect kiss he had ever been a part of. Their lips moved together slowly and tentatively, testing that the other was enthusiastically consenting. Alec hesitantly pushed himself closer, breathing in the way Magnus tasted on his lips and the way Magnus’ hand squeezed his, seemingly urging him to kiss back. Alec ran his tongue along Magnus’ bottom lip softly and the small hum that seemed to flow up from Magnus’ throat had a shiver cascading through Alec’s entire body. He let go of Magnus’ hand, only to trail his fingers up Magnus’ arm until they cupped his face gently, his thumb stroking the warm skin of Magnus’ cheek. Magnus leaned into the touch and let his tongue brush against Alec’s for a moment before he pulled away to rest their foreheads together.

“That was--” Alec paused because he wasn’t sure there was an adjective that could describe how perfect the kiss had been.

“Out of this world?” Magnus whispered and Alec could hear the smile on his lips as he repeated his previous joke.

“Yeah,” Alec breathed as he moved his hand back down to hold onto Magnus’. There were a few moments of comfortable silence, both of them relishing the new memory they had just made, and Alec’s heart was racing faster than he could count the beats. “I’m really happy you decided to go to that party,” Alec said and Magnus let out a too-loud laugh that broke their peaceful silence.

“You know, it’s a funny story,” Magnus began and when Alec tilted his head, he sighed. “I wasn’t supposed to go tonight. One of my classmates and I were cleaning up our studios and her girlfriend came in to take her to dinner before the party. We chatted a bit while she finished putting away her materials and this beautiful girl who I had never seen before told me that I had to come tonight because, and I quote, ‘her idiotic brother was pining after the wrong guy’ and she wasn’t about to let him make this ginormous mistake.” He paused and Alec didn’t need to ask to know exactly who he was talking about.

“Izzy always thinks she knows what’s best,” Alec said slowly. Leave it to his sister to intervene in his life. “So, you only talked to me because my sister told you to?” Alec asked, feeling a bit deflated from where he lay.

Magnus shook his head quickly and said, “She invited me to the party and then refused to point out who you were. It wasn’t until you told me Izzy was your sister that I made the connection. I left that party with you because you looked like you needed someone to talk to and, apparently, I wanted to be that someone.” Alec nodded and considered Izzy’s words to Magnus.

“I think maybe,” Alec took a deep breath, “Izzy might have been right.” Magnus stared at Alec for a few moments and waited for him to continue, hopefulness bright in his eyes. “Andrew is safe, predictable even. He’s a friend of the family who I’ve known for a while and is… convenient. But,” Alec took a deep breath, “I was surprised by you, Magnus. I’m surprised with how comfortable I am with you, how much I want to get to know you, how I can’t really guess what you might say next to make me want to learn every in and out of your life.”

“Alexander,” Magnus began but Alec connected their lips passionately, making sure Magnus felt all of the potential that Alec knew they had.

“I don’t want to keep living my life the way someone else wants me to, in the path that’s expected of me. I want to throw myself into photography because it’s terrifying, I want to tell my family that I don’t need their money and fame because it’s reckless, and I want to get to know you because you’re the first person who has ever made me feel like this,” Alec said breathlessly. He couldn’t describe exactly what ‘this’ was, but his heart was beating loudly in his chest, his skin tingled with anticipation, and his stomach seemed to bubble with the butterflies he had only heard about in movies. If that wasn’t something worth risking predictability for, Alec didn’t know what was.

“Will you start by staying the night? Just… laying with me until morning?” Magnus asked as he pulled their connected hands to his lips to lay a gentle kiss on the back of Alec’s. Alec sighed and nodded, feeling for the first time in his life like everything was falling into place.

“Yeah,” Alec whispered as he closed his eyes, unsure if sleep would even be a possibility through his excitement of what the night had meant to him. “Then we can talk in the morning?” Alec asked tentatively, hoping that they were on the same page.

“Absolutely,” Magnus agreed sleepily. Alec smiled as Magnus cuddled a bit closer to him, his breath slowing to a steady rhythm that indicated he had already fallen asleep. Alec found comfort in it just as much as he had found ease in every moment he had spent with Magnus.

Alec wasn’t sure what the future had in store for him, but he was sure of one thing; that night with Magnus had changed everything, and something told him it was just the beginning.

#malec #malec fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #magnus x alec #alec x magnus #my writing #bidnezz #you're amazing and ilysm #i did some sleuthing to see what your favorite kind of fics were #and came up with this <3 #I hope you love it!!

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malecsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, bidnezz!

For @bidnezz. Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

Read On AO3

*****

wouldn’t it be the perfect crime (if I stole your heart, you stole mine)

If Alec knew that being an FBI agent would involve long hours of schmoozing at a fancy party in the Hamptons, he might have chosen a different career. He thought he’d left this kind of thing behind him along with his parents’ plans for a future they’d never even bothered to consult him about when he chose Quantico over Columbia Law. But, no. It turns out that years of enduring tedious socialites means he’s apparently the perfect person to send undercover in a gathering of tedious socialites.

“Quit looking so bored out there, Lightwood.” Lydia’s voice is flat and tinny in his earpiece. “I’m the one stuck back here watching the cameras all night. At least you get to sample the canapes.”

Lydia Branwell had been a class ahead of Alec at Quantico, and as the newest member of the team, it should by tradition be Alec on camera watching duty, but Agent Aldertree thought he'd blend in better. Not only does Alec disagree, but he's certain he and Lydia would both be a lot happier with their roles reversed.

Alec grabs a couple canapes from a passing tray and makes sure he's in full view of the nearest security camera as he wraps them in a cocktail napkin and tucks them into his pocket to give to Lydia later. He hears a soft snort, and Alec is glad to have brought a little levity into this very, very boring assignment.

The whole mission is a long shot. When the host of the party contacted the authorities about a series of notes he received that could maybe be construed as threatening and explained his very tumultuous history with a man who just so happened to be on the FBI's most wanted list, Alec's superiors at the Bureau decided it was a lead worth pursuing, especially since the notes made repeated references to this particular party, which was apparently an annual tradition. Personally, Alec thinks the notes sound more like an annoyed neighbor or fed-up employee than actual threats, let alone threats from a guy wily enough to have evaded authorities for almost two decades, but his superiors think this op is worth it, and they’re the experts.

Alec takes up a position near some kind of decorative pot thing, pretending to examine it while he scans the other side of the room for any new faces or anyone that looks even remotely like their target.

“That’s a lovely piece,” says a voice over his left shoulder.

Alec starts. He didn’t notice anyone approaching him, and he’s usually a hard guy to sneak up on. His surprise only grows when he turns to the man who’d spoken. Alec cannot begin to fathom how, in his hours of surveilling this crowd, he’s managed to miss a man who looks like that.

Deep brown eyes are rimmed with kohl and accented with a just a hint of vivid blue that perfectly matches the streak in the man’s hair and the stitching on his brocade waistcoat. His nails are lacquered in a deeper blue set off by the array of silver rings that adorn his fingers. His lips quirk in an amused, almost secretive smile that steals Alec’s breath and gives him a number of thoughts that aren’t entirely appropriate to be having about a man he’s only just met, and definitely not appropriate to have while he’s working.

“Are you a fan of ceramics?” the man asks, and Alec flushes, realizing that he’s been staring. He’s a little surprised he can’t hear Lydia snickering at him in his earpiece. She must have decided to be kind and mute her mic.

“Not really,” Alec admits. “I just, um. I like the blue.”

The way the man’s smile widens makes it clear he knows Alec isn’t talking about the pot. Still, he nods at it and says, “Cobalt oxide. That’s what gives that vivid blue when fired at high temperatures. Very emblematic of Ming dynasty porcelain, although the style did spread to the West in the following centuries.”

Alec blinks. “Wait, is that thing an actual Ming vase?” He doesn’t know much about ceramics, or art in general, but he’s heard his parents’ friends go on about it enough to know that a Ming vase is very valuable, and not the kind of thing most people have just sitting around their house. Although, this particular house could probably be more accurately described as a mansion.

“Oh yes,” the man assures him, reaching out a hand to point at the vase. “See that faint rust color down near the bottom rim? That’s not something you tend to see except on real Ming dynasty porcelain. It’s caused by a reaction between the firing process and the iron in the particular Kaolin clay used. It causes that rust color on any parts of the piece that aren’t fully glazed, most often seen near the bottom rim.”

Alec nods, but he’s not paying attention to the vase anymore. Instead, his eyes are caught by the strip of skin revealed when the man pointed at the vase, and the color that adorns it. He’s surprised by the sharp disappointment that wells up, and he feels immediately foolish for it. What does it matter that this man who he’s barely exchanged a handful of words with and whose name he doesn’t even know has a soulmate? Especially since the indistinct gray lines on his own forearm mean Alec has a soulmate somewhere out there, too.

It shouldn’t matter. But, somehow, it does.

“It’s not a sure sign, of course,” the man is saying. “A competent forger could fake it. But Lorenzo is notoriously thorough in vetting his collection for authenticity, so in this particular case— Oh.”

Alec pulls himself out of his own thoughts, wondering what caught the man’s attention so suddenly, only to find the man’s gaze fixed on him, sharp and intense. Alec can’t look away.

“I’m Magnus,” the man tells him.

“Alexander. Um, Alec. Everyone calls me Alec.”

“Alexander.” Magnus says his name almost like a prayer. “Would you—”

“Darling, there you are.” It’s the word ‘darling’ as much as Lydia’s hand on his arm that finally breaks Alec’s lazer focus on Magnus. ‘Darling’ is their code word that an op has gone off the rails, and if Lydia is out here talking to him in person instead of over his earpiece from the security room, then something is definitely very wrong. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I didn’t realize,” Alec tells her. He turns back to Magnus, excuse already on his lips, only to find that the other man has already disappeared back into the crowd.

Alec firmly pushes aside the ridiculous sense of loss that accompanies that realization. He has a job to do, and he shouldn’t have let himself get distracted in the first place. Especially not by a man who’s already found his soulmate.

“All our cameras and communications went down about five minutes ago,” Lydia explains in a low voice. “Aldertree and Fairbrand are running protection on Rey. We need to round up Starkwright and Heygrove.”

It takes two hours to clear out the guests without causing a panic and another half hour before they discover the missing painting: a Renoir that had hung in the library on the second floor. It was expertly cut from the frame without setting off any of the alarms meant to protect the precious piece of art.

It isn’t until he’s back in his hotel room that Alec sees it, the dark curl visible as soon as he unbuttons the cuff of his shirt sleeve. He can barely breathe as he rolls his sleeve up to reveal his now fully-formed soulmark.

Alec stares down at the image of a sleek black cat with eyes such a vivid gold they almost seem to glow. Something in the tilt of its head and set of its tail are distinctly reminiscent of Magnus's smile. Alec isn't sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

He's still unsure two days later when the Art Crimes Team announces that the Renoir was stolen by the notorious art thief Le Chat Noir.

~!~

Magnus is on his fourth glass of whiskey when Ragnor and Cat make it back to the rendezvous.

"I'll have you know," Ragnor says, "that it is deeply unfair of you to start celebrating without us when we did most of the work on this—" He stops mid-sentence and mid-stride when he actually processes what he's seeing.

"Magnus," he says slowly, "are you drinking whiskey?"

And Magnus is so, so grateful that his friends know him as well as they do. Well enough to recognize his heartbreak drink. Well enough that all he has to do is show them his arm, now bearing the image of three crossed arrows fletched in blue, and they understand without him having to say a word.

Catarina stows their prize and gear while Ragnor grabs two more glasses. For several minutes, the three drink in silence.

"You know," Catarina offers as Magnus fills his glass for the fifth time, "we don't have to go Prague right away. It's more dangerous to stay in the States, but if you want to stay, Magnus, if you want to find your soulmate again, you know we'll help you look."

Magnus shakes his head. There's a part of him that does want to find Alexander, desperately wants to recapture the hope he had in those first moments after he noticed that his mark had changed. But that hope was built on a fantasy, and Magnus is fairly certain Alexander doesn't want to be found. Not everyone who has a soulmate wants one, after all.

"He's married," Magnus says.

He doesn't tell them what it felt like to watch the pretty blonde slide her arm through Alexander's, light glinting off her gold wedding band. He doesn't say that it felt like a physical blow to hear her call him darling.

They leave for Prague in the morning.

~!~

It takes Alec two years to get reassigned to the Art Crime Team. Two years of spending all his off hours studying, because he knows nothing about art when he starts. Two years of gathering evidence for what he knows has to be true, because Magnus was standing right next to him when the Renoir was taken, but no one actually on the case seems to have figured out yet.

He doesn't let himself feel guilty when he presents his case and the SAIC praises him for figuring out that Le Chat Noir is a team rather than a single person. He can't let himself feel guilty, because he has to find Magnus. He just isn't sure yet what he's going to do when he does find him.

It should be easy. Alec is an officer of the law. Magnus is a criminal. Soulmates or not, there's only one way for this to end.

But.

But the longer Alec studies Le Chat Noir's crimes, the more details he learns, the less certain he is about, well, anything. Because Le Chat Noir never hurt anyone in the course of their heists—not even minor injuries—and a lot of the art they take only technically belongs to the people they steal from. And all of those pieces—taken from families by invading armies, plundered by early archaeologists who gave no thought to the supposed savages whose cultural artifacts they took—always seem to find themselves back in the hands of their original owners' descendents.

That’s not all Magnus and his team steal, of course. Some of the pieces they steal, like the Renoir, are clearly chosen for their monetary value. But even then...

When Alec joined the Bureau, he did it with dreams of protecting people from violent criminals who prey on others. He can’t help noticing that the people Le Chat Noir steals those valuable pieces of art from all seem to share much more in common with the sorts of people Alec always thought he’d be putting behind bars than those he thought he’d be protecting.

"I've got the neighbor's security footage from the Rouse case for us to review."

Alec winces at the thought of reviewing yet more grainy security cam footage, especially first thing in the morning in the company of his distressingly chipper partner.

"I also brought you coffee."

His distressingly chipper, but also very thoughtful partner.

"You're a godsend, Fray," he tells her, accepting the cup. "What have we got?"

"Simon cut out all of the footage with no movement on it, but we're still looking at about ten hours."

"Which leaves us with five hours each if we split it," Alec says. "So let's see if we can get this done by lunch."

Alec finds Magnus in the third hour of footage. He's only in frame for a few seconds, and Alec has to backup twice to be sure. And then he backs up several more times just to satisfy the part of him that's desperate for even that much of his soulmate.

He doesn't tell Clary. He tells himself it's because Magnus isn't doing anything on the security footage besides walking down the street the morning before the theft, that he would have to explain who Magnus is and how Alec knows who he is.

He's relieved when someone else on the team puts it together that Le Chat Noir is responsible for the theft.

~!~

Magnus manages to ignore his soulmate's existence for almost three years, or at least make a good show of it. And it’s fine, really. He reassures Cat of this every time she asks, reassures Ragnor every time he gives Magnus one of those looks. Any foolish, romantic fantasies Magnus might entertain between sleeping and waking are between him and his idiot heart.

Except then Alexander is there on the television, standing among the team of FBI agents investigating Le Chat Noir’s latest stateside heist (one that Magnus is particularly proud of, thank you very much), and looking just unfairly hot in his dark suit. And there’s really just no ignoring that.

Magnus spends the next week researching. Some things are easy to find out. There are only twenty agents on the FBI’s Art Crimes Team, and currently only one Alexander. From there, it’s easy enough to track down Alec’s employment and school records, his family, even his gym membership. Other things take a bit more work, like his current address, mobile number, and email.

One thing is very clear, though, no matter how many times or places Magnus checks: Special Agent Alexander Lightwood is not—has never been—married.

“I messed up.”

Ragnor and Catarina exchange a worried look.

“Magnus, he’s an FBI agent,” Catarina says gently.

“An FBI agent currently trying to track down and arrest all of us,” Ragnor adds, somewhat less gently.

Magnus knows they’re right. He does. But...

“He’s my soulmate. And I just left.”

There’s no fixing this, Magnus knows, but he can’t leave things the way they are.

~!~

The first note comes on heavy cream cardstock, delivered to the PO box Alec uses for anything that might get him put on a mailing list. It’s addressed simply to “Alexander,” and he knows as soon as he reads it who sent it.

It takes almost a week to determine that the anonymous tip about their current case is legitimate, and only a few days longer before they have the perpetrators of the string of violent home invasion robberies in custody. It’s the first case Alec has worked since he transferred to the Art Crimes Team where the criminals seem as interested in hurting the people they steal from as stealing valuable art, and he’s very, very glad to have it behind him.

After that, the notes become a regular thing. They come in a variety of formats: cards sent to Alec’s PO box, his home, his office; texts from burner phones; emails from non-existent addresses; tucked into a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses on Alec’s 28th birthday. They don’t come for every case Alec works, probably not even one in ten, but they do keep coming.

Alec never mentions the notes to his team after the first one. He can’t keep them from Clary, not all of them, but she never mentions it to anyone else, never suggests that they should. For once, Alec is very grateful for his partner’s tenuous relationship with following rules.

Alec keeps that first note tucked into the billfold of his wallet.

~!~

Magnus isn’t sure why started sending the notes. No, that’s not true. He sent the first note because those sadistic bastards were giving all art thieves a bad name, and they didn’t deserve to have beautiful things any more than the people Magnus steals from do. He sent the tip about how they were offloading the pieces they stole (and really, how sloppy were they that Magnus had found it so easily?) to Alexander because, well, it was the closest he could get to an apology.

Magnus isn’t sure why he keeps sending the notes, but he can’t seem to stop. It would be easy to say that it’s the only way he knows to be—in some small way—a part of Alexander’s life. And that is a part of it, but...but the truth is, it’s also fun. There are too many art thieves who have no place in the business, either just because they’re terribly sloppy (really, do they have no respect at all for their craft?) or because they’re horrible people who Magnus has no desire to share an occupation with. Screwing them over while also making Alexander’s life a little bit easier is doubly satisfying.

“I think we should retire,” Ragnor says. They’ve just finalized the sale of their latest score and are having drinks in Barcelona to celebrate.

“Retire?” Magnus asks. “Why?” He can’t help noticing that Catarina doesn’t look surprised.

“Because,” Ragnor says with a shrug, “I don’t think any of our hearts are really in it anymore. I started doing this for the money and the thrill. Now, I think I’m getting a little too old for thrills, and I have more money than god.”

“You’re thirty-eight,” Magnus points out irritably.

“Even so,” Ragnor says. “And you’ve gotten all wrapped up in your,” he waves his hand, “side project.”

Magnus can’t deny it, he’s been distracted. But that doesn’t mean he wants to quit.

“Cat?” Magnus asks, turning to look at her.

“When I was little,” Catarina says, studying the dregs of her Manhattan, “I wanted to be a nurse. After my parents kicked me out, I gave up on that dream, but lately I’ve been thinking maybe I could settle down, go back to school.” She looks up, meeting Magnus’s eyes. “This, what we do, it was great when I was sixteen, when I was twenty-five. But it was never supposed to be forever, and I think. I think I’m done.”

“I see.”

It’s Magnus’s turn to stare into his drink. The truth is, he’s never thought about retirement, not really. Cat and Ragnor chose this life, and maybe it wasn’t much of a choice for either of them, but they weren’t born into it the way Magnus was. Stealing is something his friends do, but it’s who Magnus is. Going straight just isn’t an option for Asmodeus Bane’s son.

Is it?

“Maybe you’re right,” Magnus says.

If Cat and Ragnor want to retire, he doesn’t want to be what stops them. Magnus can always take some time off, and when his friends are settled into their new lives and well clear of him and his father’s influence, he can look into putting together a new team. It won’t be the same without Cat and Ragnor, but Magnus will survive. He always does.

And maybe... Maybe it means something that Magnus’s soulmate isn’t a thief. That Alexander is about as far from a thief as you can get. Maybe...

Magnus doesn’t let himself finish the thought, but he doesn’t let go of it, either.

~!~

“Come on, we’re going out for lunch.”

Alec looks up from the report he’s in the middle of. “Uh, not today. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

“Yes, today,” Clary says, reaching down to flip his folder closed. “We’ve been working crazy hours all month, and I’m not letting you skip lunch again now that we’ve closed the case just so you can do paperwork.”

For all of Alec’s protests, he finds himself in the passenger seat of Clary’s car not ten minutes later. He frowns when realizes they’re headed out of the city.

“Where are we going?”

“Just a little hole in the wall place I found.” Clary’s voice is light, but she has her mission face on. “I think you’ll like it.”

Alec is suddenly on high alert. He has no idea what’s going on, but it’s clear Clary is worried about someone listening in, and whatever this is, he trusts Clary. He doesn’t always like her, but he trusts her.

“There’d better be melted cheese involved,” Alec tells her.

By the time they pull up to a modern, high-rise apartment building in Bethesda, Alec’s stomach is doing somersaults. He follows Clary up to an apartment on the fourth floor, not sure what to think when she pushes open the door and motions Alec inside.

The inside of the apartment looks like the platonic ideal of a nerdy bachelor pad, with an entire wall of the front room devoted to an extensive video game collection punctuated by superhero figurines, and an empty pizza box on the coffee table.

And the platonic ideal of a nerdy bachelor sprawled on the couch with a laptop.

“Lewis?” Alec says. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh,” Simon answers, “you’re in my apartment, dude.”

“It’s the only place we could think of that we’re sure the Bureau doesn’t have under surveillance,” Clary explains. “And you might be my partner, but I don’t actually want to lose my job for you if I can help it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I sweep the place for bugs every couple weeks,” Simon says. “I helped develop a lot of the current surveillance tech, so it’s easy enough to find them. They spy on all of us, you know. Like, all the time.”

“No, I—” Alec shakes his head. “Why are you worried about bugs? And what’s this about Fray losing her job?”

Clary and Simon exchange a look, that wordless communication they have that never fails to give Alec a headache.

Finally, Clary looks at him, just the faintest hint of uncertainty in her smile. “Simon figured out where your notes are coming from.”

Alec feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. “What?”

“I’ve actually been tracking them for a while,” Simon explains. “But they were never sent from the same place more than once. Not until recently.”

“But why?” Alec knows his poker face is terrible. It’s why he never goes undercover anymore. Still, he tries very hard to act like this is no big deal. “They’re just anonymous tips.” He’s pretty sure he fails.

“Because they’re from your soulmate?” Simon says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s not— I don’t—” Alec can feel the panic rising in his chest and does his best to push it down. If he lets it overtake him, there will be no getting out of this. “Why would you even think that?”

“That time in Atlanta,” Clary says, “when you got stabbed. I saw your soulmark when the nurse put in the IV for your antibiotic drip.” She shrugs. “After that, it didn’t take a genius to figure it all out.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Fuck, Atlanta was years ago. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“I told you, you’re my partner,” Clary says, looking almost offended. “And you haven’t done anything actually illegal.” She holds up a hand. “Don’t tell me if you have. Please. Besides, your soulmate’s been helping us solve cases.”

“But you decided to tell Lewis?”

“He’s my best friend. I trust him.”

“Also a hopeless romantic,” Simon adds cheerfully. “I’m kinda jealous of this whole star-crossed lovers thing you’ve got going on, to be honest. Like Romeo and Juliet, but with less death.”

“Oh god,” Alec says, sinking onto the couch and burying his face in his hands. He can’t believe he’s been this careless. Who else knows?

“I can see your panic wheels spinning, Lightwood,” Clary says. “And I think you might have missed the important part, here.”

Alec raises his head to look at her. “Missed what?”

“Simon found where the notes are coming from. We have an address.”

“The messages have been coming from the same place for over a year,” Simon adds.

Alec stares at the slip of paper Simon holds out to him like it might bite him if he touches it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“That,” Clary says, “is above my pay grade.”

Alec takes the paper with a shaking hand. If Magnus has stopped moving around, does that mean he wants to be found?

~!~

Magnus watches the sun dip beneath the Paris skyline. Nearly two years into his stay in the city, and he’s still not tired of the sight. It’s the longest he can remember ever staying anywhere. Maybe there’s something to this whole retirement thing.

He sips his martini and flips open the stupidly expensive imported issue of The New York Times he purchased entirely for the very grainy photo of Alexander, along with the rest of his team, on page A-7. Magnus didn’t help with the case they’d recently closed, but he can’t help being just a little proud of Alexander, regardless. There’s a part of him that knows this whole thing is foolish. He can’t spend the rest of his life pining after a man he met for five minutes a decade ago, soulmate or no soulmate. He needs to let it go, needs to let Alexander go. He runs his fingers over the photograph, staining them with newsprint. Just. Not tonight.

A sharp knock on his front door pulls Magnus out of his thoughts. It’s probably Madame Boucher from upstairs again. The woman has to be old enough to be Magnus’s grandmother, but she’s still a terrible flirt and comes up with the most ridiculous excuses to stop by Magnus’s loft at least twice a week. Magnus adores her.

“Êtes-vous à nouveau à court de sucre, ou—” Magnus freezes in the act of opening the door when he registers who, exactly, is on the other side.

“Uh, my French is pretty rusty, but I definitely don’t have any sugar.”

“Agent Lightwood,” Magnus says, holding onto the door like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Maybe it is. “I’m fairly certain the FBI doesn’t have any jurisdiction here.”

Alexander frowns, a tiny crease appearing between his eyebrows that Magnus refuses—can’t afford—to find endearing. “I’m not here in a professional capacity.”

“Then why are you here?” Magnus’s voice comes out sharper than he intends. He doesn’t know what to do with any of this, with Alexander standing in his doorway, with the longing trying to claw its way out of his chest.

“I thought— And then, you sent all those messages.”

Alexander pushes up the sleeve on his sweater, and Magnus sees his soulmark for the first time. Magnus has to dig his fingers into the doorframe to keep from reaching out to trace its lines. It’s startling how a cat can bear such a striking resemblance to him. He wonders if Alexander would have the same reaction to his mark.

“Oh god,” Alec says, misinterpreting Magnus’s silence. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I’ll just— I’ll go.”

“Alexander, wait.”

The moment Magnus’s hand closes around Alec’s wrist, a frission of energy goes through them both. Magnus should let go. He should.

He doesn’t.

“It’s just,” Magnus says, “I’m a retired art thief and you’re an FBI agent. What kind of future could there be for us?”

“Former,” Alexander answers.

Magnus frowns in confusion. “What?”

“Former FBI agent.” Alexander gives him a sheepish smile. “I, um. Resigned. Before I got on the plane to come here.”

“You quit your job?” Magnus understands the words, but he’s having trouble assigning them meaning. “Why?”

Alexander shrugs. “Why’d you retire?”

“I—” Magnus wants to say that it’s not the same. But, then again, maybe it is. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I was thinking we could start with dinner?” Alexander smiles, hopeful and earnest, and Magnus feels that same spark of hope light up his chest that he felt all those years ago when he realized who Alexander was to him.

“I’ll get my coat.” Magnus lets his fingers slide free from Alexander’s wrist, and it doesn’t feel like letting go.

#bidnezz #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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