Malec Drabble Alphabet - J
It was not often that Magnus Bane got jealous. Being centuries old, heâd had decades to mostly master that particular, ugly feeling. Besides, what should he be jealous of? He was rich, powerful, good-looking and practically oozed confidence; so, really, all the usual things were out. Unfortunately, he was still susceptible to the feeling; even he couldnât stop jealousy from taking over sometimes. He supposed that was the nature of being a person, being human, even if it was just partially.Â
Heâd noticed over the years that there was a pattern to his envy; certain things he was jealous of in various different contexts, but that were essentially the same in the end. Family, for instance, was one of them, or rather families that were actually functional. Magnusâ parents, though they had shaped him into the man he was today, were not exactly a prime example of familial love or loyalty, and he didnât have any siblings to speak of. Sometimes it ached when he saw how beautiful family could be, when he knew he would never truly have that. Though he had loved ones and friends, heâd never experienced having a sibling; there was no one that had known him since birth, since childhood, and still loved him despite all theyâd experienced together, all the ways heâd changed. He still felt the envy curl in his stomach when he watched Alexander with Isabelle and Jace. They were all so unequivocally themselves with each other, always trusting one another implicitly when it was really needed. Still, he was happy to admit, that feeling mostly went away when they included him in their circle of trust, Alexander and Izzy happily, Jace somewhat begrudgingly.
Other times, it was hard to admit, he was jealous of mortals, and their fleeting but passionate lives. They knew nothing of the troubles of immortality, the heaviness of knowing that everyone and everything he would ever love would eventually fade away, torn from him by the reality of time, while he still stood, young as ever. How fast, how beautifully they all aged. The modern world was obsessed with looking young and yet sometimes, just sometimes, Magnus wished he knew what it was like to slowly have his hair grow gray, to have wrinkles and age marks. Mortals lived their lives with such vibrancy. Heâd seen it over and over again. He tried not to dwell on it too much; it couldnât be changed after all. Eternity was his destiny. Still, when he had watched Clary grow up, from a tiny, precocious child to a strong woman, he couldnât help his jealousy. She was fiery and passionate and lived unapologetically, unburdened by the longevity he suffered from. She would make the most of the time she had, his biscuit. Her life might be a short one, but he knew without a doubt that it would have meaning. So yes, he was jealous of that. But, at the same time, he was grateful for his immortality, because without it he wouldnât have walked the Earth at the same time as Alexander Lightwood and that would have been a far greater shame.
It was true; Magnus Bane was familiar with jealousy, in all its forms. That included in his romantic relationships, though this was far less often than one would think. There were very few people who heâd cared enough for, loved enough, to get him riled up like that. In fact, there were only two.
Number one was Camille. God, she had driven him crazy and had absolutely delighted in doing so. He shouldâve seen how toxic she was much earlier on, but he supposed they really were all fools in love.
Number two, apparently, was Alec. In his case, unlike Camille, he seemed completely, frustratingly unaware of what he was doing to Magnus. Then again, that was probably to do with the fact that the shadowhunter didnât seem to understand when someone was flirting with him, or if he did then why they would flirt with him. This shouldnât surprise the warlock, considering even some of his more outrageous lines had either gone over the other manâs head or went ignored. Well, until Alec had finally understood that yes Magnus was flirting with him, then his responses had become rather more enjoyable. In fact, now heâd either become all adorably flustered or dryly sassy when he was hit with one of his boyfriendâs apparently âridiculousâ pick-up-lines.
But really, youâd think that having Magnus as a boyfriend would at least make him recognize when someone that was not him was interested.
I guess not, the warlock thought sulkily, as he watched whatever-his-name-was look his Alexander up and down again, subjecting the poor, clueless shadowhunter to yet another terrible flirtatious comment. Magnus really hated this guy; really, really hated this guy. Who just walked up to a stranger at a bar and started flirting with them like there was no tomorrow? Especially when that someone was clearly getting drinks for two?
Well, actually, that sounded like something lot of people would and was in fact also a very Magnus-like thing but that was not the point.
This was supposed to be his and Alexanderâs night out together, one of the rare ones that he actually managed to convince the younger man to try a new place, and now there was this wannabe trying to pick his boyfriend up. Magnus was not having it, and certainly not from someone who looked like a prep-school dropout. (Yes, part of the warlock realized he was channeling his inner mean girl but in this case he was also right.)
He glowered at the wannabe from his position, reclining in one of the many luxurious sofas that dotted the jazz lounge. Jealousy clenched at his gut. He tried to fight the impulse to intervene, knowing Alec more than likely would be annoyed at him for it. The shadowhunter didnât like being treated like he was incapable (and Magnus didnât think he was but this was bordering on torture).
He didnât mind other people admiring Alec; there really was a lot to admire, after all. It was just that admiration and trying to get some were two entirely different things.
Magnus glowered a while longer, body rigid with tension. And then the wannabe went so far as to squeeze Alecâs bicep, winking up at him suggestively and the shadowhunter, bless his shy soul, blushed a becoming cherry red.
Thatâs it. The warlock officially had enough of watching the manâs sordid little show. No one made Alexander blush like that but Magnus. With a quiet growl, he stood and stalked to the other two.
âUm, you know, I really have to get these drinks back toââ he soon heard Alec say, as he clearly tried to escape whatâs-his-face.
âI bet that chest is even better than these arms. What do you say you prove me right, stud?â prep-idiot replied, leaning into the shadwowhunterâs space, who in turn shuffled back.
Stud? Is he serious? Even Magnus would never dream of using that particular nickname.
Thankfully, he reached them before either could do anything more, conveniently coming to stand in between them. The warlock kept his back to whoever-he-was, instead facing Alexander. The younger manâs face slackened in relief at seeing him, but tensed again when he realized the idiot still hadnât gone.
Well then, time for my own show.
âDarling! There you are, I was wondering where you went off to.â Magnus didnât take a momentâs pause and simply put his arms around a slightly confused Alexanderâs neck, kissing him deeply. The mean girl in him cheered when he heard a huff of annoyance behind him.
Still, he soon pulled away from the shadowhunter, knowing that he wasnât much one for prolonged public displays of affection. He let his arms fall from his neck, instead trailing his hands down Alecâs firm chest (the douche was right about one thing, his chest was rather magnificent). The younger man gazed at him for a long moment, his expressive eyes deliciously dark, and his tongue unconsciously coming out to swipe a tantalizing lick at his lips. Magnus nearly groaned aloud at the sight, the jealousy that had been clenching his stomach turning into something else entirely. He watched as Alec finally glanced away, looking over the warlockâs shoulder, a miniscule frown appearing. Is that idiot still not gone?
Magnus was about to turn and kindly tell mister-canât-take-a-fucking-hint to kindly get the hell away from his boyfriend, when he was surprised by Alec, who suddenly decided to grab his face and yank him into another, longer kiss. All thoughts of revenge turned to dust as Alexander worked his magic, his long fingers cupping the back of Magnusâ head as he changed the angle into one that more suited them both, tongue warring with his. The warlock could only clutch at Alecâs shirt and hang on for dear life, getting light-headed by the onslaught. Then, just as abruptly, he pulled back smirking and Magnus actually whined at the loss of contact, chasing after him. But he neednât have worried, because then Alec was there again, his mouth on his and Magnus was utterly lost in the feel of him.
After what seemed like an eternity (but was not nearly long enough in Magnusâ humble opinion) they parted, both panting slightly.
Alec glanced around them and sighed in relief. âThank the Angel heâs finally gone. I couldnât get him to shut up.â
The warlock grinned, adoring the cute, frustrated look that now adorned his boyfriendâs face. âHm⌠who?â he asked, playfully before deciding to try his luck for one last kiss. The shadowhunter was kind enough to let him⌠and to let him drag him out of the lounge and back home in a heated rush.
Perhaps being jealous was not always such a terrible thing. Still, he would try to avoid it. After all, the feeling of being completely secure in his relationship with Alexander was much more satisfying. Well, amongst other things.
All alphabet drabbles are tagged under malecalphabet
Special side note: this particular drabble was requested by the wonderful @crlpblz. Hope you enjoy, lovely!
