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luciehercndale · 10 months

Note

Ooh okay CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE GIRL you deserve it! If you're still taking requests, might I ask for a Matthew + Alastair friendship fic of some kind? ❤️

Thanks 💜 I really tried to make it cool and funny and there is also Thomastair at the end. I hope you like it ✨

Read on A03

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Alastair knew he shouldn’t have asked for Matthew’s help, but he was desperate. As the second anniversary with his beloved Thomas was close, he was out of ideas, something he did not like nor wished on his worst enemy or least favorable acquaintance. Not even on Matthew, decidedly, who he had never once thought as a foe but not as a friend either.

He checked his pocket watch. The clock had just struck seven in the morning, and he was by the gate of the house he and Thomas had been sharing for five months. He knew that he was the one who was early, and not the other one who was late.

The evening before they both were at an event at the Townsends, only because their parents had forced them to attend. Matthew’s mother, the Consul, rendered it imperative to go, and so did Gideon Lightwood, who was not blood related to Alastair in any way, yet had been a more fatherly figure to him in the last two years than his father had ever been. Alastair’s heart warmed at the thought, and although he and Thomas hated the Townsends and found them annoying, he convinced him to go for their father’s sake.

Catherine, whom Alastair concluded was indeed on the list of those he would call boring, spineless and least favorable to become one of his friends, was getting into shadowhunters politics. Charlotte Fairchild was to be her mentor, something she did not enjoy and of which Alastair knew because of his dinners at the Lightwoods. He swore he had never seen Matthew’s mother sigh and shake her head so much during dinner, but he knew her hands were tied.

After Bridgestock was kicked out as Inquisitor of the London Enclave, all the members decided that it was mandatory to mentor the new shadowhunters who wanted to get into their politics. To train them for their role so they would not resort into threatening other members of their society in order to get what they wanted. Charlotte herself proposed it, and Alastair thought it was a good idea. He knew that the woman was disheartened that her older son Bridgestock treated him as a bargain chip, and she didn’t want that to happen again to someone else with good intentions. As much as Alastair despised Charles Fairchild, he could understand his mother’s worries.

The other members of the Enclave, including himself and Thomas, voted in favor of this measure, which ended up being approved. Charlotte, Gideon, Will and Tessa, all offered their help as mentors along with some of the other representatives.

There were two people along with Charles – who wanted to try to get into shadowhunter politics again, much to everyone’s dismay – who wanted to train for shadowhunter roles in London. One of them was the aforementioned boring Catherine Townsend, while the other was a person he had learned to know well during the last few years, Thomas’ cousin Jesse Blackthorn. Catherine expressed her desire to become Consul a few months prior, along with Charles. Meanwhile, Jesse, much to no one’s surprise, wanted to train to become the next head of the London Institute.

Charlotte chose not to mentor her son because it would have looked like nepotism – wasn’t it, though?. She would’ve gladly trained Jesse along with Gideon, but in hindsight, it was more fitting for him to be mentored by Will and Tessa, with whom he already worked everyday. In the end, it was Gideon who got Charles. Thomas patted his father’s shoulder once he knew, and offered him a genuine smile of understanding. Alastair wasn’t sure which of them had it worse, but probably both.

This party was to celebrate Catherine’s first six months of training, and of course, they needed to attend to show that the Consul’s family and acquaintances were supporting. Alastair would have rather stayed home with Thomas, but he had a mission to accomplish, and he knew only Matthew could help him.

He wished to talk to Fairchild directly at the event. It wasn’t like they never talked during events, but it was suspicious. He tried to intercept him when he went to the bathroom at some point, but believed it would be too awkward and stayed rooted to his place, hearing his sister Cordelia drone on the last addition to her and her husband’s house in Curzon Street. He rolled his eyes at that. Who cared about a statue made by a mundane artist when his mind was blank? He needed to find Matthew as soon as possible.

He had no way of tracking him – that would’ve been too much – if not through fire messages. And that also posed to be quite a difficult task. Thomas, who had been incredibly bored by the event, said that he wanted to do something exciting. Thus, even though it wasn’t their night duty to go on patrol, he agreed to go out with him until he had enough. Well, until Thomas, who had been yawning for the whole night, had finally given up on staying outside. If it were for him, he would’ve been in bed two hours prior, and he would’ve asked for Fairchild’s help way earlier. He waited for Thomas to doze off peacefully and sent the message.

Fairchild. I know you must be surprised by this message, and by the hour on which it finds you, you must think I am either drunk or crazy – or both. Fret not with your speculations, as I will cut to the reason why I willed myself with the task of writing to you this late, and this unexpectedly. I found myself consumed by despair. And by shame. But I know that you are the only one who can help me. It’s been two years since I and Thomas started our relationship. The date is upcoming – in three days – but I still can’t find the perfect gift. I wanted to surprise him with something he may like, and I thought that you – nevermind. Perhaps this is uncharacteristically strange coming from me, but you do understand that desperate times call for desperate measures (and desperate requests for help). Feel free to ignore.

Alastair found himself sighing numerous times as he mulled over the words of the message, but he still sent it. To his shock, the Fairchild boy had replied to him.

Carstairs. You’re right, I’m appalled. It was the last thing I expected to happen on this day. Catherine Townsend sucking up to my mother at the dinner didn’t faze me one bit, I know the woman is vile and I – I’m sorry, I was just rambling. I just thought of the perfect place where you can go with Thomas. We can go there by car tomorrow morning, but we need to meet up early. I can’t come before 7am, as I need my beauty sleep. You woke me up, but I’m willing to forgive you just because I care for Thomas’ happiness and I think he will be enthusiastically taken aback by where I thought you could take him.

Alastair confirmed that the time was perfect and he would wait outside his house in Cornwall Gardens. All the while he was hiding in the bathroom, because fire messages made too much noise and he didn’t want Thomas to wake. He wondered about the place he wanted to take him but decided he wanted to be surprised. Matthew didn't reply anymore, and he hoped that they had an agreement. Yet, it was half past seven and he couldn't see a hint of the blonde bohemian, and he started thinking that he had stood him up.

Alastair didn’t even know why he was annoyed by Matthew’s tardiness. Was he late? He just said not before seven, he didn't – He saw the Ford Model A approach and he massaged his temples. Calm down, Alastair. Do not lose your cool, he repeated to himself.

“About time,” Alastair said gruffly, but at least he uncrossed his arms off his chest.

“Good morning to you too, Alastair,” Matthew cheered from behind the wheel. “Bad night?”

Alastair rolled his eyes. In another time, he would have told him to mind his business. But he wasn’t the same person as he was years ago, nor was Matthew. “I could not sleep,” he sighed, remembering all the tossing and turning about last night.

Matthew, who Alastair wasn't surprised to see wore a golden waistcoat and jacket that matched the details of his car, simply shrugged. “Yesterday's event at the Townsends upset your stomach too?”

He felt like rolling his eyes again. “If Catherine ever becomes Consul, I hope I'm not in London anymore,” he scoffed.

“The feeling is mu –” Fairchild stopped abruptly and looked up, and Alastair dreaded that Matthew had seen Thomas through one of the lowest windows of the house.

He turned quickly, relieved that was not the case, and realized what distracted the other from finishing his sentence. “Something is meowing at your feet,” he commented sourly with a frown. Knowing Matthew, it could have been some new customization of his Ford.

“Yes, I haven't forgotten about you, kitties,” Matthew said instead, and he lowered to pick up a box from the floor of his car. “There, there, here we are,” he cooed. He got out of the vehicle and started walking toward the door of Alastair's house.

“What are you doing?” Alastair frowned, glancing at the kitties before Matthew could advance closer and ring the doorbell. There were two of them: one was a tortoiseshell, while the other was a brown tabby. They were probably strays and not older than a few days.

“We are going to the countryside, Alastair. As much as they would keep us company and stop us from tearing each other's hair with their fluffy cuteness, I think they should stay home.”

“In case you forgot, this is my home.”

“And it can be a temporary home for the kitties,” he said excitedly, offering Alastair his megawatt smile, even though he knew it wouldn’t help matters. “In case you forgot, I do have a massive and lovely dog in my home.”

“Since he is lovely, surely, he must love cats,” he asserted.

“Absolutely, he does. But you understand that I can't leave Oscar alone with them,” Matthew tried to plead his case. He looked down at the kittens mournfully, and they meowed at him. “They’re tiny little things and they’re defenseless. They’re the equivalent of a newborn baby,” he argued. “Would you leave a newborn baby alone?”

“That’s beside the point,” Alastair objected, but the meowing of the kittens alone was tugging at his heartstrings and he didn’t want to admit it to Fairchild. “There would still be no one to attend to the kitties.”

Matthew shook his head as he stroked one of the kitties’ heads. “They wouldn't be alone. Thomas is inside, I assume.”

“Where do you think –” Alastair closed his eyes for a moment out of exasperation. “We're losing precious time. Moreover, in case you forgot, Thomas must not know of my encounter with you.”

“You're wasting time by dragging the issue out! Just leave the box in a room and close the door. I'll get them when we get back and I'll see if I can find them a house.”

“What if Thomas finds them?” Alastair wondered. “You do know that this house is his as much as it’s mine –”

“You think too much, Alastair,” he raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Just leave them in a room that Thomas doesn’t like, then. That’s it, I resolved the problem for you.”

Alastair wanted to argue with Matthew, but he was right. Again. He was dragging the discussion out and he was concerned that Thomas would wake up soon and he would look for him, even though he left him a note apologizing. He needed to do this quickly. He took the box away from Matthew’s hands and he made a mental note of the house.

He realized that the room Thomas never seemed to enter was Cordelia’s old room. It made sense. Even though Cordelia moved out of the house several years prior, Alastair and Thomas thought that for the moment they wouldn’t turn it into something else. Cordelia (and James) used the room when they stayed there when one of their parties went too far into the night and they didn’t want to walk back home. Lazy, if anyone asked Alastair, but convenient for his immediate scope. He left the box on the other side of her bed, and bolted the door. He then ran out of the house as if it were on fire to meet an excited Matthew already waiting in the driver’s seat.

“You know, it would be ideal to keep conversation while we drive,” Matthew quipped a while after they left London behind. “The road is long.”

Alastair barely glanced at him, his hands gripped the side of his seat tightly. “I have nothing to say,” he retorted, trying not to sound too blunt.

“You didn’t even ask me where we’re going,” Matthew observed, raising an eyebrow at how his traveling companion sat. “You are not going to fall, trust me.”

“What?” he wondered louder than it was appropriate. “Mind the driving, Fairchild. I don’t want to die young and above all, I’d regret perishing in the countryside.”

Matthew replied with a mirthful laugh, and Alastair glared at him this time. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to taunt you, but you make it so easy,” he shrugged. “What did the countryside ever do to you?”

Alastair managed a smile. He remembered another time, another himself. A younger self who was less carefree than he is now. A young boy who could only find solace in going horse riding in Dartmoor and hunting for blackberries. A boy who rejoiced when they moved there for a while, because the pubs and grocery shops were too far from their house, and his father too lazy to look for his poison. A place where he felt they never stayed enough because of said reason. His father’s love for the bottle overshadowed his affection for his family, and that probably quelled the peacefulness of those memories.

“I used to live in the countryside every once in a while,” he confessed to Matthew. The car wasn’t too fast, and he was trying to appreciate the landscape. It distracted him. “At Cirenworth.”

“Oh, in Devon, I see. Cordelia told me about it,” he nodded. Seeing that the other didn’t answer anymore, he continued. “You don’t sound too happy about it, though? Was this place ugly and water leaked from the pipes, your shirts would get drenched and you had to wear a bathsuit your whole stay so that at least, you’d be prepared to get soaked?”

Alastair pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always come up with the most absurd scenarios, Fairchild,” he shook his head. “I am afraid to ruin your fantasy, but no. On the other hand, Devon is an outstanding location and so is Cirenworth. It is immersed in nature and there are many paths that lead to the beach. It is quiet and no one bothers you and you have plenty of space to train in the moor. It was the best place I’ve ever lived.”

“Seems like the perfect place for relaxing,” Matthew assumed, keeping his eyes on the road. They had just passed a sign and he realized they were closer to their location than he thought. “Have you been there recently? To visit your mother and little brother?”

“I’ve been there a few weeks ago,” he confessed. “We had a picnic in the rose garden by the house with Thomas.”

He recalled the memory fondly. His mother and Risa prepared a picnic in the extensive garden at Cirenworth. Zachary had grown so much in the time he hadn’t seen him, and he dedicated most of the time to playing with him in the grass. Thomas had accompanied him, of course. His younger brother grew attached to his partner, and he demanded to sit him on his shoulder because he was the tallest.

Alastair had a mini heart attack every time Thomas helped little Zachary on his shoulders. He was protective (even though he knew Thomas would never let him fall) but he was also quite mushy. This was a feeling that he had discovered in these years of being in love with Thomas and being loved back by him.

“I would love to see that place someday,” Matthew smiled, and even if he was looking ahead of him, Alastair knew that he meant it. In all fairness, he even wondered why his sister had never invited him over.

“What about you, though?” Alastair found himself wondering. “Is there a place like Cirenworth in your life?”

“I had one, when I was a child,” the blond replied uncharacteristically quietly, not meeting his eyes again. Well, he better watch the road. It was barely visible in between the corn crops on either side of them. Alastair hadn’t dared to ask where they were going and now he regretted it. “Fairchild Manor, in Idris. We used to go there on vacation during the summer. I remember thinking that my parents decided to paint the building in a mellow gold hue to honor my birth, but of course, I was deluding myself,” he laughed bitterly. “Aside from this little childhood embarrassment, I felt like we were truly a family when we were there. An ordinary family. My mother would ignore the shadowhunter business as long as we stayed there, and we would play different games in front of a glass of freshly made tea. My father would ditch the experiments and I would push his chair so we could go on long walks together. I even played with that menace that is Charles –” he rolled his eyes, as if he was incredulous. “Those were good times.”

Alastair listened to Matthew’s story carefully, and he was surprised at how similar their happy place seemed to be. The only striking difference, he was sure, were their fathers. He admired Henry Fairchild. He was often criticized for being a man of science, but it was just shadowhunter society closing itself to modernity again, which wasn’t good. If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t have had things like portals. His father, on the other hand… there was nothing to admire, he concluded. He was better off dead.

The conversation veered on other topics like the weather and how nice it seemed to be. Matthew asked what Alastair thought of the recent shadowhunter happenings in London and they discussed that for a while. Their earlier conversation broke the ice, despite the day being far from chilly.

As he descended out of Matthew’s car when they arrived, Alastair found himself sweating in spite of the hat he was wearing and a gentle breeze blowing in their direction. Must be the countryside and its air, he thought. Yet, it was the autumn season, and he realized that he was getting antsy and anxious because he was about to find out what his partner’s close friend had thought for them.

“Please do tell me why, because my curiosity is unending,” Matthew said abruptly as they walked who knew where, as there was literally nobody in the clearing facing them. “You still haven’t asked me where I brought you, Alastair.”

Alastair shrugged, trying not to clench his fists in frustration. “What if I said that I trusted your taste? Would you believe me?”

He snorted in response. “Of course I would,” Matthew smirked. “I know I have impeccable taste.”

“Whatever you say, Fairchild,” he replied sourly.

Matthew stopped, and so did he. Alastair realized that they were almost in the center of the clearing. There were short trees on every side, and small patches of flowers. It seemed like the best place for a picnic and to have a little privacy, but would Matthew drive that far from London – he still didn’t know where they were, but considering the over two hours of travel, he decided they were a little outside of town – to take him to the perfect place to eat on the grass? He wouldn’t know how to get back there again if he did.

The blond glanced at the clock in his pocket and turned to Alastair. “They should be here any minute,” he spoke confidently, offering him a smile.

Alastair wanted to ask him who, when something caught his eye. It was barely midday, but there was a shadow invading the clearing. He knew it couldn’t be a demon – it was broad daylight – but his hand still went on his weapons’ belt, ready to grab his spears to attack. His hand went slack when he noticed the source of the shadow: a big hot air balloon. It wasn’t just a regular hot air balloon. It was also propelled by some kind of magic, he assumed, because of the color of the fire under the rainbow colored tarp.

“You look like you were expecting an ambush,” Matthew observed, glancing at Alastair’s astonished expression. “I know, I was also quite surprised the first time I saw one of these up close. Isn’t it fascinating?”

“What?” Alastair managed to say, his mouth gaped open. “Quite,” he added with a sigh. Damn.

The colorful air balloon descended into the clearing and gracefully landed not far from the two of them. Three people came out of it with happy smiles, along with the warlock, who Alastair didn’t recognize. Matthew walked to the man as soon as the clients left, but he stood there. Immobile until the other took notice that he hadn’t bothered to catch up to him. He gestured for him to come there, and only then, after taking a long breath of encouragement, did Alastair follow, albeit slowly.

“Frank, let me introduce you to Alastair Carstairs,” Matthew told the purple-haired warlock. “He needs to surprise an important person and he thought that your hot air balloon ride would be the best experience that he could have.”

“Sure, welcome, shadowhunter. Anyone of Mr. Fairchild’s friends is a friend of mine,” Frank said. “I don’t usually let shadowhunters ride my balloon,” he chuckled, “but I am willing to help you since you’re a good friend of this handsome fella,” he winked at Matthew, which made Alastair frown. Maybe Matthew knew this warlock personally.

He glanced at his friend. “Well, thank you very much,” he answered with a clipped tone, trying to be cordial. “About that, can I speak to my friend Matthew for a second?”

The warlock shrugged and went towards a small cabin close to the woods that Alastair hadn’t noticed before. Once he was out of earshot, Matthew asked: “I don’t understand what’s wrong. Is it because he’s a warlock? Because –”

“No, absolutely not,” Alastair quickly said. He never had problems with downworlders, and it annoyed him that the other thought that was the issue. “I didn’t realize you were taking me here,” he sighed, “where are we?”

“That’s because you never asked,” Matthew chided, and he had to give it to him. It was the truth. “We are in Hatfield park, in Hertfordshire. Hatfield House is not far from here. It’s where Queen Elizabeth grew up.”

“Good for her,” he snorted. So they were indeed not far from London.

“You don’t sound too excited,” Matthew said. “Is it the place? Is there too much green? Is –”

Alastair couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m afraid of the heights,” he confessed, ready to be ridiculed by Matthew.

“Bloody hell,” he replied with a neutral expression. He seemed to be genuinely understanding. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Alastair frowned, gazing away. The warlock sat on a chair and was sunbathing. “If I’d only asked,” he clenched his fists. He was angry at himself. “Guess it can’t be helped now. I’ll have to think about something else before Friday.”

“Don’t be hard too on yourself, Alastair,” Matthew tried to console him, something he didn’t expect. “I can tell Frank that regrettably, you have changed your mind, and you wish to go back to London. Simple as that. Trust me, he’s not going to hold it over your head or curse you.”

“Warlocks can’t curse people,” Alastair remarked, tilting his head in the direction of the man.

“Not the warlocks you know,” he winked with a smile, but Alastair raised his eyebrows. “Fine, fine, you’re right! Must you always be so fussy?”

Alastair shrugged, and Matthew took it as a sign that he wasn’t going to answer and started walking in the opposite direction, where Frank was probably asleep by now. He came back a couple of minutes later saying that the warlock was nonchalant about their decision not to go on with the balloon ride, and to come back if they changed their minds.

Alastair didn’t talk all the way back to Matthew’s car. He was thinking about the hot air balloon, and how Thomas would react if he took him there. He would love it, he told himself. He would absolutely adore it and talk about it non stop for months. He reckoned Thomas mentioned balloons more than once, when they saw a photograph of one in The Star. He always meant to take him on a ride, but he wasn’t sure he could overcome his fear of the heights.

He was still thinking about this when they got back to the car, hands clenched into fists on his lap and his eyes fixated on nowhere precisely. He was thrown back to reality after Matthew groaned, which reminded him that they still hadn’t left. He wondered how much time had he stared into space.

“If you fixed your hair, I think I’m ready to go back to London,” Alastair muttered.

“I have bad news and good news,” Matthew sighed, his hands crossed on the steering wheel. “Which one do you want to know first?”

“Is this a game? Because I don’t think we have time for those, Fairchild. You better start the car or we won’t even get to London in time for dinner.”

“Well, congratulations! I’m afraid that is the piece of bad news I was going to deliver, but you’re good at guessing,” he chuckled, even if there was nothing to laugh about. Alastair raised an eyebrow, and he continued. “The car won’t start.”

“Say that again,” Alastair said, aggravated.

“The car is out of fuel. It won’t start. Look,” he turned the keys into the ignition, but no sound could be heard from the vehicle. Instead of the usual purr of the engine, there was utter silence.

“Out of fuel? Didn’t you get some before leaving?” Alastair tried not to get too agitated.

“I didn’t think I would need more. I thought it would last,” he shook his head in frustration. “Look, I apologize. There’s nothing we can do but wait. I’ve already called for help.”

Alastair scoffed, and crossed his arms on his chest. “Well, whoever you called better come here soon. I can’t lose more time, I’m already running out of time. I shouldn’t have –” but he bit his lip and he didn’t finish. He wasn’t even angry, but he was a little anxious.

“Asked for my help?” Matthew dared to ask. “Kind of odd, I must say, but I thought someday it might have happened,” he clenched his jaw. “And not because I am a connoisseur of the best entertaining experiences Edwardian society has to offer. We both love Thomas, and we both care for him. You want to make him happy, and so do I. Shouldn’t that be the end goal?”

“It should,” he admitted. “And he is. I’m not being cordial towards you just because you’re one of Tom’s best friends,” he said, and Matthew raised an eyebrow. Alastair ignored him. “I do not harbor any animosity towards you because of the car, in case you’re wondering. I’m just angry at myself.”

“Since we’ll be spending a few hours together before help gets here…” he left the sentence hanging. “I have a fine ear that is very willing to listen, in case you need to vent,” Matthew smiled.

Alastair thought about it for a few seconds. He had already shown Matthew his vulnerable side when he desperately asked for help the night before. He also confessed his fear of the heights, which only Thomas knew about. Telling him more wouldn’t be too confidential, would it? It wouldn’t mean they would become friends.

“Do you ever want to,” Alastair began, “make someone happy but you know what’s standing between your happiness and them is you?” He said bitterly. “This hot air balloon idea you had, Fairchild, was thoughtful. Thomas had expressed the desire to go on one casually in conversation, but I never dared to follow because of my little fear.”

Matthew’s mouth gaped open in disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a warm smile. “I do know that feeling very well, yes,” he gazed up at the sky, as if he was longing to fix that but could not. “To be honest with you, Thomas also expressed the desire in conversation with me as well, when I told him that I knew a warlock that had a balloon business,” he pointed out. “This is why I brought you here in the lively Hertfordshire,” he cocked his head. “And yes, I also had selfish reasons. I wanted to ride the hot air balloon myself, but alas, I also abhor heights,” he scoffed. “I was hoping you’d force me to ride, even just to see my face turn green like the countryside,” he added, and Alastair started chuckling. “You see, acrophobia is not that uncommon! Even dashing men like me have fears.”

Alastair tried to rein his giggles. It was unlike him to laugh so freely in front of people in general, if they weren’t Thomas or his family. But laughing was freeing, and it made him feel better. He should do it more. “I never thought I’d laugh about that with you, but thanks.”

“Well, there is a first time for everything,” Matthew grinned. “And thanks for what? You’ll have to find something new for Thomas.”

“You still tried to help me,” he said. “Even though it backfired. I appreciate the effort.”

The sound of wheels on the soil alerted them that whoever Matthew had called to take them back and also bring fuel for the car was closer and approaching. Alastair didn’t know how much time had passed ever since they sat waiting. Matthew kept talking about random stuff – some of it eccentric nonsense – and Alastair listened to him. There was nothing better to do, he told himself, and Fairchild’s stories were amusing. Time had to pass.

They got off the Ford to meet their savior. Alastair thought it would be James, because he was Matthew’s parabatai, but instead –

“Thomas, my dear,” Matthew spoke before Alastair could, and walked briskly to his friend. “Why are you here? It was Jesse I sent a fire message to!”

Thomas glanced at Matthew briefly, and acknowledged Alastair. He frowned, not used to the sight of his boyfriend with one of his best friends. He seemed surprised, but his eyes didn’t betray much emotion. “I was with Jesse when he read the message and I offered to come instead. He and father had to go out together. Is there something wrong with me being here?” he asked the blond, but he knew the question was directed at him.

“What about James?” Matthew inquired, which was weird. He knew James wouldn’t be in town today, but Matthew had to know that too, since he sent the message to Jesse first. He was catching himself in his lie, but Thomas ignored that.

“James went to see that mundane sport with Cordelia – what’s the name again? Ah, polo, it was polo.” Thomas replied curtly, not breaking eye contact with Alastair. “Whereas I was free. I had to go to buy groceries with someone this morning, but when I woke up, the bed was cold and empty.”

“Alright, alright, Thomas,” he patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone and get the fuel.”

Thomas waited for Matthew to go back to the carriage with which he had arrived, to start speaking. “Why were you two together?”

“He was going to the countryside,” Alastair looked away and sighed. “And I asked him to go with him. He knows a lot of places. Also, I thought I left you a note before I left.”

“You only enjoy the countryside where Cirenworth is,” Thomas replied, rolling his eyes with a grin. He wasn’t definitely angry, just puzzled. And teasing.

“Hamsar-am,” Alastair said. “You know me too well,” he snorted, managing a smile reserved only for his lover. “But I can’t tell you.”

“And I don’t want you to tell me,” he answered with a smile. “I was just messing with you. About the note, too. Which, by the way, was so sweet,” he licked his lips and stroked the side of Alstair’s neck, lingering on his shoulder blade. “We still have to go grocery shopping, though.”

“I would never forget about grocery shopping,” he fixed his gaze on Thomas’ lips and then his hazel eyes, which reminded him of nuts. He loved nuts. “We can go tomorrow morning, since this day is done.”

Thomas nodded, but something caught his eye behind Alastair. “Oh, man. Is that a hot air balloon?” he exclaimed, his hazel eyes filled with excitement.

“Majestic, isn’t it?”

“And it’s descending down there. Can we please take a look, Alastair? I want to see one up close!” He was giddy.

Thomas got excited even for the little things like this balloon and seeing him so happy always put Alastair in a good mood. Thomas took his hand and he dragged him to the field where he and Matthew had been a few hours prior. A group of werewolves had just enjoyed their balloon ride, as Frank the warlock was just wishing them goodbye.

“Do you think we can ride it?” Thomas asked, his eyes beamed at the balloon. He didn’t wait for his reply and went to the warlock directly. “Good morning, sir. Do you offer balloon rides?”

Frank turned with a smirk, and eyed Alastair and then Thomas. “Oh, there’s a third shadowhunter. A friend of Mr. Fairchild too, I suppose? Have you changed your mind, then?”

Thomas glanced at Alastair, and he sighed. “Excuse us,” he told Frank, and pulled his puzzled boyfriend away from the warlock until they were far enough. It looked like deja vu. “I asked Matthew to help me last night,” he took a pause, “about your anniversary gift. And he took me here, to a faraway place, because he thought you would like riding a hot air balloon. And he was right,” he managed a tight smile. “You know I’m afraid of the heights,” Alastair muttered. “But he didn’t know that, and now I have to think about something new.”

“Oh, if we are coming clean now, I also asked your mother about your gift,” he scratched the back of his head and looked away, his cheeks assuming the rosy color of shyness. “She told me you love khoresht-e ghormeh sabzi and that is a dish that is usually made during festivities. But you know I can’t cook, for the love of the Angel,” he chuckled, and Alastair raised his eyebrows. One time, Thomas managed to burn a hard boiled egg, but he was getting better.

“We aren’t perfect,” he said.

“No one is,” Thomas said softly, grabbing his hand. “That is what makes us special. Being afraid of the heights won’t make me love you any less.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that. Perhaps I should try to get past my fear and ride the damn balloon with you, but I don’t think I can.”

“I don’t think I can cook a decent meal either, so I think we are fine,” Thomas smiled. “It isn’t the end of the world. And you shouldn’t if you don’t want to.”

“Are you really sure about that?”

“Positive,” Thomas kissed his cheek. “How about we go back? There is something back home that you need to see.”

“Alright, I’ll be leaving. I left Oscar with the doorman and I need to go back to my apartment,” Matthew announced after he accompanied Thomas and Alastair to Cornwall Gardens.

Alastair proposed they rode in the Lightwood carriage, but Thomas insisted they went in the car so Matthew wouldn’t have to ride alone. There was barely space for two in the Ford, so the ride back wasn’t comfortable. Alastair’s only joy was that thanks to the lack of space, he had to lean on Thomas, which he didn’t seem to mind.

Alastair raised his eyebrows at Matthew, who, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten about the box he had left this morning in Cordelia’s old room. Matthew blinked, probably to make him understand he remembered, but Thomas spoke first.

“No, Math, wait,” Thomas said. “Come, and see what I found too. Perhaps you can help us, since you know so many people.”

Thomas entered the house first, followed by Alastair and Matthew. The two exchanged a quick glance – Alastair was glaring at him, Matthew just shrugged – as Thomas led them into the living room. Alastair exhaled a much held breath but it was short lived when he heard a noise coming from the wooden table. Meowing. Meowing and a bad smell which he possibly identified as animal droppings. Alastair wanted to run, to fly, to hide, but that was also his home, and he couldn’t.

“Are those… kittens?” Matthew chanced, feigning surprise, when Thomas showed the box to them. “How adorable!”

“As you can see, they are indeed. Two strays,” Thomas took the tortoiseshell in his arms and started petting it. Alastair wanted to die. The image of Thomas with a kitty was too much to bear, but he also didn’t know how to explain why the cats were there, if he ever asked. Which, of course, he did. “I have no idea how they got here, though. I was about to leave for my parents’ house when I heard some noise coming from Cordelia’s room, and I found them.”

“How odd. I wonder how they got there. They mustn’t have possibly crawled so young, and carried the box with them,” Matthew observed, and Alastair would’ve rolled his eyes higher than the ceiling if he could. He never met someone who was able to craft such lies and make them believable in the span of a few seconds. Thomas also made a face.

“Come on, stop joking,” Alastair interjected, looking at Matthew briefly. “I brought the cats here, Tom. They are Matthew’s. But I suppose you already know that, since it would have been quite impossible for them to get in on their own.”

“I knew it,” Thomas said. “Cordelia’s room, really? You know that I never go there. If they hadn’t meowed, I couldn’t have found them.”

“That was the aim, Thomas,” Matthew replied. “I only asked Alastair to leave them here because we couldn’t have possibly taken them to Hertfordshire. I would have brought them to my apartment once we returned.”

“Who said they are going back?” Thomas inquired. “Do you stake a claim on the kitties, Math?”

“I – don’t think so,” Matthew revealed. “I can’t keep them. I don’t intend to turn my home into an animal house. Oscar is enough for me. I planned to take them to the London Institute, since they would have the space to thrive. Even though I don’t think Uncle Will loves cats that much. Maybe, if I asked Jesse, he could convince him –” Alastair cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was rambling. Anyway, no, Tom. I do not stake any claim on these little cuties. Feel free to keep them or give them up for adoption. Just find them a good family who won’t throw them away.”

“Good, because I think I’ve just found them a family,” he confessed happily, eyeying Alastair, whose heart started beating faster in his chest. “What do you say, Alastair? Do you think you can accept these two kitties into our house?”

Alastair felt his cheeks burning. He couldn’t contain his own happiness when Thomas openly talked about them as a family in front of a crowd (there was only Matthew there with them, but still). “There is enough space for two kitties here, that’s for sure,” he grinned, his eyes only for his boyfriend.

“Then they are officially ours,” he looked down at the kitty.

They ended up naming the two cats Ra and Horus like two of the most important Egyptian gods. This put Alastair in a good mood, and he decided to leave the hot air balloon fiasco behind him. And so did Thomas with the Persian dish.

“I will cook khoresht-e ghormeh sabzi the day after tomorrow,” Alastair announced that evening, when they were on the rug playing with the kitties. “Since it is going to be an important day for us and you’re not going to make that for me.”

“I planned to ask Risa,” Thomas confessed. “But no, I don’t think I can. I will ask somebody to go on the balloon ride with me.”

“Fair enough. My fear shouldn’t stop you from doing these activities, but for the love of the Angel, be careful,” he warned.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Let’s say Ra and Horus are our gifts, what’s that sound?”

“Good,” Alastair smiled, and he couldn’t help but kiss his boyfriend on the rug, the cat making meows of protest. “Let’s hope they don’t develop an Aedipus complex,” he added, and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh.

Fairchild. We decided that the cats, now officially named Ra and Horus, will be our anniversary gift to each other. Just wanted to let you know for no other reason than to thank you. I thought keeping them here was a bad idea, but it turned out better than expected. Thomas says to come with Oscar if you want them to meet so they can be friends. And next time we go to Cirenworth, you could come with him to visit. You don’t have to respond to this message.

Matthew received the fire message right when he was lounging on his bed with Oscar and smiled. Were they friends now? He didn’t know. He just knew that, in spite of everything, he had enjoyed spending a day with Alastair Carstairs and to his surprise, he thought they also had things in common. He would definitely bring Oscar to Cornwall Gardens to become Ra and Horus’ friend and would gladly accept an invitation to Cirenworth.

Who said that cats and dogs couldn’t be friends?

#tsc #tsc fanfiction #tlh #alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #thomas lightwood #thomastair #alastair and thomas #the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chain of gold #tsc fan fiction #tweety.writes #tweety's celebration #posta

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bemtevis · 1 year

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the sin of sincerity

With nowhere to go, Kamala stumbles upon Alastair. They get along much better than expected. Ch. 1: tell me the truth... Ch. 2: ...so I don't have to lie

This theory comes from this post by @melanielocke, pls check it out!

CW: spoilers for chain of thorns, allusions to period-typical homophobia; let me know if I missed anything.

Ariadne walked a couple blocks before realising she had nowhere to go.

Crap.

Don’t panic.

She considered her options. Going back was out of the question, of course. Renting a hotel room, too, would be difficult, seen that she had no money. She had no friends or relatives, no favours to call in, no idea where to go next… crap, crap, crap. Do not panic.

Okay, she was panicking. Her pace became unsteady and her breaths choppy, creating clouds in the chilly London weather. Ariadne stopped for a moment, leaning against a wall. If only she weren’t so dependent. If only she had bothered to build connections outside her engagement. If only she was more like…

Anna.

Maybe Anna would laugh at her and shut the door on her face. Maybe she’d have a look through the peephole and refuse to let her in. Maybe she was with another girl right now. Maybe. But it was better than going home.

Ariadne got up with renewed determination, which lasted minutes before being crushed. As she approached Anna’s flat, a sound filled her ears: music, coming from the inside. She was probably throwing a party, or receiving a private concert from a pretty girl. Of course she was. She was Anna bloody Lightwood, and her life hadn’t stopped because Ariadne’s had.

She sat down on the steps, burying her face in her hands. Panic was rising up her throat again when a familiar face approached her.

“Miss Bridgestock?”

It was Alastair Carstairs, her ex-fiancé’s ex-friend, or whatever he was. Charles had never told her, but she had her theories. They’d made friendly conversation in the past, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he disliked her. But then again, he seemed to dislike everyone.

“Mr. Carstairs,” Ariadne greeted, then cringed at the roughness of her voice. She cleared her throat, doing her best to sound casual. “Good evening. I was just out for a stroll. You know how it is.”

His eyes found the holdall beside her and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Heat filled her cheeks. She had to get better at lying.

“I see,” Alastair said with practised politeness, a tone she knew all too well. “I was doing the same, actually.”

An idea occurred to her.

“There’s a restaurant down the street,” she burst out. “Have you had the time to visit it? Lovely place, really. I could show it to you, if you’d like. Or not. That’s stupid isn’t it? Crap.”

“No,” Alastair interrupted, and she felt the urge to crawl into a hole and never get out. He clarified, “I haven’t had the time to see it.”

Relief washed over her. “Oh. So… would you like to accompany me?”

He nodded. His brashness, she realised, was simply a much better cover for awkwardness than her stammering.

“Let’s go, then.”

- - -

The restaurant really was lovely.

Less fancy than Alastair would’ve assumed was the taste of the Inquisitor’s daughter, which was a plus. They ordered their food and made a poor attempt at small talk.

How Alastair found himself in this situation was a mystery. His only plan was to visit the Fairchild residence to check in on Charles. Nothing much had happened between them since the man’s injury; their relationship was now fragile, and any sudden move could shatter them. Not to mention the advisal against physical activities, sex included–he guessed that was the main reason Charles hadn’t made a move.

But then, he’d found Ariadne Bridgestock at Anna Lightwood’s doorstep, with puffy eyes and a bag in hand. He saw the despair of a broken person in her eyes, the same he saw in the mirror every morning. He couldn’t bring himself to ignore her.

An awkward silence had installed itself between them.

“You were crying,” Alastair said, giving up politeness. It wasn’t a question.

Ariadne was silent for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice didn’t waver. “I was. Are you going to ask why?”

“Do you want me to?”

The answer came promptly. “Yes.”

“Alright. Why were you crying?”

She told him everything, from the beginning. Her father’s absence, her mother’s concern, the papers she’d found in his office. Information about the Herondales and the Lightwoods, she said. Errors and problems so small, it was strange that the Inquisitor took interest in them. Alastair’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing the name Lightwood. He bit his tongue to avoid asking if there was something about Thomas.

“And there’s more,” Ariadne said, withdrawing a sheet of paper from her coat and handing it to him. Its edges were burnt and much of it was illegible, but its contents were undeniable. “A blackmail letter.”

Horror dawned on Alastair as he read it.

“I have not one guess as to who the target is,” Ariadne said, but Alastair barely heard it.

Aligned in our views–

The secrets which you believe well hidden–

Some people are sentimental–

He felt sick. To think he was heading straight to him, completely unaware of this whole ordeal…

“Alastair? Are you okay?”

His attention snapped away from the letter and he met her gaze, brown on brown.

“This letter was unsent, correct? Is there a chance your father didn’t go through with the blackmail?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an early draft. He must’ve sent a later version.”

Alastair closed his eyes. “I think I know who this is for.”

The waiter chose that moment to serve their food. He told her his theory while they ate.

He knew of Ariadne’s preference for women, and was positive she knew of him as well. There was no reason to be scared. Still, he spoke in a low voice, glancing around for eavesdroppers. He didn’t know how Bridgestock had found out about them, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

When he was done, she was quiet for a moment.

“That makes a lot of sense,” she said, then frowned. “The Herondales and the Lightwoods are like family to Charles, aren’t they? Do you think he’d do that to them?”

Alastair recalled the way Charles talked about his family. Charlotte was emotional and unreasonable; Henry, unambitious and shortsighted; Matthew, immature and shameful. He didn’t think Charles’ family held a privileged spot in his mind.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

Ariadne nodded. “I believe you. Godamnit, Alastair. I’m so sorry. I have no idea how my father found out! It’s awful that he’s using your secret like that… quite ironic, too.”

She chuckled, but it was bitter. Upon his questioning look, she elaborated, “My mother was very unhappy that I’d gone through Papa’s files. We got into an argument, and I lost my temper. So I told her. My secret, that is.”

Alastair was filled with sympathetic dread. She narrated the events of the night, and his chest tightened further. The thought of his sweet mother doing the same to him… Ariadne had no idea how strong she was.

“So I ran,” she concluded, staring down at her now empty plate. “I have nowhere to go, but I won’t go back. I refuse to.”

She raised her chin, daring Alastair to doubt her. He didn’t, not for a second. He was convinced she could walk through fire if she put her mind to it.

“I understand that the last thing we want right now is a scandal,” Alastair said, “but you could come to my place. Until you have somewhere else to go, I mean.”

Ariadne smirked. “I’m sure that would go well. ‘Yeah, I slept at Mr. Carstairs’ house, but it was not like that! You see, I actually like women, and he does not!’”

That punched a surprised laugh out of Alastair. “That’s a good way to avoid a scandal,” he remarked, thinking briefly of his sister. “Just create another one.”

She laughed, then stopped. Cautious hope lit up in her eyes, and she bit her bottom lip. “Nobody needs to know where I am. I doubt Mama would make my escape public anyway. So, if you were being serious, I would love to stay at your place. Thank you.”

He nodded, still smiling. She had brought him a strange kind of levity. It was different than what he’d felt in the Sanctuary; that had been a dream, and like a dream it ended. Ariadne’s presence was different, grounding, easy. Weird, but not unpleasant.

They made their way to the Carstairs residence, a comfortable silence between them. Despite the tragedy surrounding their circumstances, he couldn’t shake the feeling something great had just begun.

I don't actually remember my taglist, so bear with me: @melanielocke @stxr-thxif @sheisbeautyweareworldass @cant-think-of-anything @littlx-songbxrd @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @zaaharaa @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer

#no I don't think sona would react like flora ok not at all #we love sona in this house #second fic of mine in which a character goes to alastair instead of their love interest #that's so powerful of me actually #ariadne bridgestock #alastair carstairs #kamala joshi #the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of thorns spoilers #chot spoilers

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