#flirtingalec

He pulls out a shade Magnus hasn’t worn in a long time, a shimmering black hue that shifts to a dark, glittering purple with changes in the light.

“What about this one?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Magnus simply nods. He doesn’t think he could speak through the overwhelming affection he feels for the man in front of him.

He watches, heart in throat, as Alec takes his hand in his, as he slowly works the rings off his fingers. As each ring is removed, he presses his lips lightly to that finger. He can’t remember the last time someone had treated him like this, like something to be cherished in quiet moments. His heart stutters in his chest with every caress of Alec’s lips against his skin, with every touch of his fingers against his.

Magnus lets his fingers find the curve of Alec’s cheek, running his thumb gently over the expanse of his cheekbone. He feels it to the tips of his toes when Alec turns his head to the side and brushes his lips against his wrist.

Magnus loves him so much it hurts.

Alec takes a cotton ball soaked in remover and begins to take off the nail polish covering his nails. Magnus could have done it himself; he wouldn’t even have had to lift a finger. But he lets himself be taken care of. Lets himself savour the care Alexander puts into every movement.

“Okay, bear with me,” Alec says with a small laugh as he picks up the nail polish bottle, giving it a small shake, “I’ve never done this before.”

“It’ll turn out perfect either way.”

Alec rolls his eyes affectionately. He ducks his head to focus on the task at hand.

And it might just be the most endearing thing Magnus has ever seen in his life. The tip of Alec’s tongue sticks out of his mouth. His eyebrows are furrowed together in concentration. His steady archer’s fingers hold onto the brush like it’s his lifeline, but even the steadiness of his application does nothing to help him stay within the nail. He ends up getting a lot of polish on Magnus’ skin.

But Magnus really can’t find it in him to care. Not even a little bit. Not when Alec looks like that.

“This is hard.” Alec whines, his voice going a little higher, the way it does when he’s frustrated, “How do you do this so well?”

“Well I usually just, how do you say, ‘snap my fingers.’” Magnus says through a grin.

Alec throws him an unimpressed look. He glances down at his handiwork, and pouts. “You think I should activate my precision rune? I swear I should be better at stuff like this. This just looks like I did it with my eyes closed. You know what? I’m gonna activate my precision ru –”

Magnus shuts him up in the most effective way he knows. He leans forward and presses his lips to Alec’s, swallowing the little oompf that falls from his throat. It takes Alec a second to melt into the kiss, and when he does, Magnus can feel the outline of the smile that takes over his mouth. It’s a sweet thing, something precious. Something to remember forever.

When he pulls back, Alec’s smile takes over his entire face. Magnus could draw it from memory, if he wanted to.

“I love you,” he says quietly, “thank you for doing this for me.”

Alec abandons the nail polish bottle to take Magnus’ face in his hands. Magnus doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way Alexander looks at him sometimes. Like he’s the only thing worth looking at.

“I love you.” Alec whispers back, in a sigh.

Magnus brings his hand up to cup Alec’s. Alec’s eyes grow wide.

“Don’t do that! You’ll ruin my hard work.” He scolds, pulling his hands away to take Magnus’ in his again, gingerly, avoiding his nails. He blows softly against the drying polish.

“Kind of hard to make it worse than it already is, don’t you think?” Magnus teases. Alec gasps and smacks him in the chest.

“Asshole.” He says, but he’s smiling too much for the insult to land.

Magnus wants to bottle this moment, wants to save every single detail in technicolour. The way Alec’s eyes seem to shine just a little more. The way his thumb runs gently, absent-mindedly, over Magnus’ fingers. The way he pulls Magnus to him until he’s settled against Alec’s chest, and the way he wraps his arms around his middle, fingers still intertwined with Magnus’. The rise and fall of his chest, and the steady beat of his heart alongside Magnus’, as he presses his lips gently into Magnus’ hair.

My greatest gift.

And maybe Magnus doesn’t realise it when Alec runs his thumb over Magnus’ ring finger once, twice, and an infinite more times as he falls asleep in Alec’s embrace. Maybe there’s no way for him to know how Alec finds himself smiling uncontrollably at the mere thought of what that finger holds for them.

Magnus is lost for words. It’s been so long since he last did this, since he’d told Alec late one night, in a conversation that had carried on for hours and hours in between silk sheets, that dancing was one of the few things that brought him peace, and calm.

One of them, because the other is currently holding onto him like he never wants to let go. And it’s love that Magnus sees in the soft crinkles that surround Alexander’s eyes when he smiles at him, the gentle caress of his fingers against his waist that make him feel like nothing’s wrong. Like nothing is too much, too painful, that couldn’t be eclipsed by this moment.

“Your arm.” That’s all Magnus can manage to get out, through the emotion settling itself in his throat.

“My arm is just fine.” Alec says softly, pressing his lips gently to Magnus’ forehead.

It’s the simple melody of acoustic guitar that surrounds them, wraps them in an inexplicable warmth that feels like nothing could ever break it. Magnus’ eyes sting with the promise of tears as he wraps his arms around Alec and lets himself be pulled closer. He places his head in the crook of Alec’s neck, and just breathes, breathes in everything that makes him whole.

“Thank you.” The words that escape him are so soft, like a breath, that he’s not sure if Alec even heard him.

Alec’s arms tighten around him as they move slowly to the music. It’s nothing beautiful; not a display of skill or talent, but it means the world to Magnus. He could stay like this forever.

Alec’s breath plays gently over the skin of his neck. A breath that might not have been there, if Magnus had been but a second late. The mere thought of it shakes him to his very core.

“I almost lost you today.” he whispers, in a voice that seems so unlike his own.

A soft sigh escapes Alexander’s lips. He presses closer, and kisses Magnus’ neck. His stubble tickles the skin of his neck, and warmth spreads from that spot. Magnus lets himself feel the beat of his heart, lets himself feel the warmth of Alec’s skin.

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

“You didn’t. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you.” The words fall from him immediately, like a knee-jerk reaction. As if they’re always waiting on the tip of his tongue, waiting to find their way to Alexander.

Alec pulls back then, so that he can look at Magnus. He moves his hands from his waist and brings them up to his face. Magnus lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, before turning his head to press a kiss to Alec’s palm. Alec’s thumb comes up to collect a tear that had escaped Magnus’ eyes.

He didn’t even know he’d started crying.

“I love you too.” Alec says, eyes soft and gentle, “So fucking much.”

He drops a hand from Magnus’ face to hold onto one of his. His fingers intertwine with Magnus’, and his gaze falls to their clasped hands.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is strained, “I’m so sorry.”

Magnus’ brows furrow together, “Why are you apologising, my love?”

“You gave up everything for Jace. For me.”  

“Not everything.” Magnus says, because his everything is standing right in front of him, “Not you.”

Alec shakes his head slightly, like he’s at a loss for words when Magnus says things like this. Magnus forces a smile onto his face. Alec has had enough pain for one day.

“I’m fine, Alexander.” He tries with all his might to keep his voice from wavering, “I’ll figure something out.”

A pained look finds its way into Alec’s eyes. “You don’t always have to be so strong.” He whispers. His thumb runs gently over the curve of Magnus’ cheekbone, “I know how much your magic meant to you, Magnus.”

He should have expected it. Alec has always had a knack for seeing beyond a façade, no matter how carefully constructed it may be. He’s a protector. And Magnus feels the weight of everything that had happened sink into his shoulders. He feels the lack of the familiar thrum of magic under his skin, feels the sickening emptiness of the well inside him. Everything is hollow.

“I don’t know what to do.” Magnus confesses, voice choked, and then he lets himself fall apart, lets himself sag and release the tension from his shoulders and lets Alec hold onto him, lets him help him pick up the pieces of what’s left of him, “I really don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll fix this. I promise.” Alec’s voice is resolute, unwavering, “I’ll move heaven and earth to find a way to fix this.”

Alec’s eyes are fierce, strong, like everything about him. It’s just one of the endless things about him that Magnus commits to memory. Alec loves deeply, guilelessly, with every part of his heart. And Magnus lets himself be enveloped by that love, lets himself find the strength he needs to overcome this in Alec. In the man who feels like he was the universe’s gift to Magnus, for anything good he’s ever done in his life.

Magnus loves him like he’s all that’s left in the world.

Alec’s fingers touch the corners of his unglamoured eyes. They flutter shut of their own accord. Magnus had forgotten about them. That they’re out in the open for all to see, now. He feels exposed. Like a nerve.

Nothing, however, could prepare him for the surge of emotion that takes over him when Alec leans forward and presses his lips gently to each eyelid. All the breath leaves Magnus, and his hands come up to clasp Alec’s wrists. And he’s the only real thing in the world then, Alexander Lightwood. The only thing keeping his head above the surface of the water.

“I promise.” Alec whispers then, and the conviction lacing every syllable tugs at something in Magnus’ chest

What did I do to deserve you, Alexander?

“And in the meantime,” Alec continues, a playful smile finding its way onto his face as Magnus opens his eyes to look at him, “I should probably train you.” His fingers run gently down Magnus’ sides, leaving a trail of blazing warmth in their wake. “You know. For self-defence.”

Magnus raises a brow at him, unable to wipe his own smile from his face, “You just want to see me in tight training clothes.”

Alec’s grin just gets wider as he shrugs, “Can you blame a guy?”

Magnus lets out a laugh, and wraps his arms around Alec’s neck before leaning forward to kiss him.

“Anyways, magic or not,” he whispers against Alec’s lips, “I’d still kick your butt, Shadowhunter.”

Alec’s eyes narrow playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

It’s moments like this that make Magnus feel like the world had really found its way into his palms with Alexander. Like there was really nothing that he couldn’t conquer with Alec by his side. The answers to everything seem to lie with the man in front of him, the man who looks at him like he’s all that matters.

Magnus kisses him then, lips lingering, feeling his breath and his heartbeat align themselves with Alec’s, until they’re two halves of a whole that seemed like the universe itself had willed it into existence.

“Yes.” The word rushes out of Magnus, quiet, yet fervent. His eyes are open, soft brown, lined with muted black, gazing into Alec’s.

Alec brings a hand up to touch his face, slowly at first, asking for permission, and cups his face gently when Magnus leans into his touch. His eyes flutter shut for just a second, before he opens them again.

“Okay.”

No sooner than the word falls from his lips, Alec feels the familiar surge of wind from a portal hit the back of his neck. He folds his fingers into Magnus’, and walks backwards until the wave of magic envelopes him. Portal travel has never been the most comfortable experience, but it’s different when it’s Magnus. To Alec, it feels as familiar as Magnus’ rings pressing into the palm of his hand, as familiar as his smile on a warm morning. As familiar as his lips, mapping out constellations on his skin.

And Magnus keeps his eyes fixed on Alexander as they step into the bedroom of the loft. The light is softer here. The rushed voices and sounds of the Institute linger in his ears, slowly softening into silence.

Magnus waves his free hand to change both of them out of their clothes and into more comfortable ones. He walks them over to the bed. Feels Alexander’s fingers tighten their hold on his own as they slip under the covers.

It feels different. A line of tension winds its way down the contours of Alexander’s shoulders, a residual crease between his eyebrows. There’s a space between them on the bed where they lay facing each other. A space currently occupied by their intertwined hands.

The curve of Alexander’s lip cuts through the soft light of the room. Magnus allows himself to memorize every inch of him. Allows himself to find peace, and home, in the luminous hazel of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus whispers, and almost immediately, the burning begins in his throat, and his eyes sting with the promise of tears.  

Alec brings Magnus’ hand up to his lips, eyes wet. He presses a small kiss to the back of his palm. “I’m sorry too,” he murmurs against his skin. His gaze finds Magnus’ again, “We both said things we shouldn’t have.”

Magnus licks his lips before reaching a hand to place it against Alec’s cheek. He runs his thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone, feeling the prickle of day-old stubble against his fingers. Alec’s eyes are wide, and soft, and he’s looking at him with the kind of look Magnus only sees when it’s directed towards him. Like the doors to heaven could open up for him and he’d still want to be right here, in Magnus’ arms.

He’s so beautiful.

“I was reminded of something today.” Alec says quietly, thumb drawing small circles over the back of Magnus’ palm, “I don’t know if you already know this, but I hadn’t remembered it till now.”

He swallows, takes in a breath before speaking again, “Nephilim – we only love once.”

Magnus’ fingers stop in their gentle movements, “What do you mean?”

Alec shifts closer to him, “I mean, we only fall in love, like truly fall in love, once. In our whole lives. We could be with a number of people, but once we find the one? That’s – that’s it. Forever.”

Magnus had known of the intensity of a mortal’s life, how they felt everything more in every sense of the word. But he hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to find the beat of Alec’s heart tied inexplicably to his own. And he can’t remember when his heart had picked up its pace, when it had begun to feel like nothing outside this room and this cocoon of blankets and this man lying across from him mattered.

“So what you said over breakfast, it’s not true. Even if I had been with someone before you, it wouldn’t have made a difference,” Alec continues, completely oblivious to Magnus’ heart thrumming an erratic rhythm against his chest, “because you’re it for me. You were always going to be it. You are, quite literally, the love of my life.”

It’s in moments like this, when Alexander speaks to him as though there is a direct connection between his mouth and his heart, that leave Magnus lost for words. Alec has always been the kind of person who, when he feels something, feels it to the core of his being. The intensity with which he feels, and loves, is something that Magnus loves endlessly about him.

And it’s the wrong time to be at a loss for words, because all Magnus wants to do now is tell Alec that there is never going to be anyone else for him either, that this, what they have, this is it. This is what he wants forever, that Alexander Lightwood is the love of his life. That Magnus would move heaven and earth and hell and everything in between to find a way to keep this until time itself became obsolete.

He leans forward and closes the distance between their lips. It’s a kiss meant to love, and affirm. A promise, that this is as real for him as it is for Alexander.

When he pulls back, Alec’s eyes remain shut for a few more seconds, like he had found himself again. Magnus drinks in the way the hazel of his eyes reminds him of the forest, and of sunshine, and of honeyed kisses all at once.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” It’s not a question Magnus expects an answer to, and he sees the effect of the words in Alec, in the way the crease between his eyebrows softens immediately, the way his lips part. The way pure adoration pours from his eyes.

Magnus pulls him closer, until Alexander’s breath ghosts over his collarbones. He wraps his arm around Alec’s torso, pulling the one still locked with Alec’s up to his chest.

“If I could have my way with the world, I’d have you by my side forever. I’d never let you go.”

He presses his lips to Alec’s knuckles. “I meant what I said, Alexander, all those weeks ago,” he says quietly, “That you’d unlocked something in me. This – this is it for me too.”

And I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

“I love you.” Alec whispers, and Magnus can sense the underlying promise in his voice, and he knows that even though the fight to find their forever will be long, and arduous, he won’t be alone.

He kisses Alexander again, for that promise. For a love that feels like that the stars had aligned themselves right in front of him.

Maia pulls the blanket tighter around herself, but nothing she does seems to dull the chill that’s slowly starting to take over. Clary would have called. Or perhaps she just might not have gotten to her phone. Perhaps she’s too busy trying to finish the hunt. There’s no reason for Maia to feel the panic that’s festering inside of her. The deafening silence coming from her phone doesn’t mean that she –

The sound of the front door clicking open echoes through the dark, silent apartment. Then, the shuffling of boots, and the clink of a charm bracelet that Maia distinctly remembers as the one she’d given to Clary for their anniversary last year. That’s all it takes for Maia to fly out of her cocoon of blankets on the sofa and head to the front door.

Relief floods every vein in Maia’s body as she takes in the sight of fiery red hair stooped low as Clary unties her shoelaces, before slipping them off her feet. Her fingers move to her thigh holster, movements slow and tired as she works it open. She raises her head a few moments later, eyes meeting Maia’s for the first time.

“Hey.” Fatigue laces her voice as her lips quirk upwards in a tired smile. Maia finds herself scanning every inch of her lovely face, for cuts, or bruises. For the telltale pull of her left arm that means that her shoulder is giving her pain.

“Why are you still awake?” Clary asks. She turns her attention to the strap holding her dual kindjals to her waist.  

“You’re late.” Maia tries to keep the tightness in her voice at bay, “You didn’t call.”

“The mission took a while.” Clary says, in between the sounds of the kindjals hitting the floor, “I didn’t want you to stay awake, be scared.”

“I was scared, Clary.” Maia blurts out, the words rushing out in a voice she barely recognises as her own, all constricted and heavy with emotion.

Clary’s hair moves with the gentle ferocity of glowing embers as she turns to face Maia.

“I was scared.” Maia repeats, voice considerably softer, “I’ve been scared for a while now. Every time you don’t come home on time, or when you don’t tell me if that hurts, even when I know it does.” She gestures at Clary’s shoulder.

Clary abandons her weapons, and moves closer, eyes burning with something indecipherable, something that tugs at every little thing in Maia’s heart.

“I just can’t – I can’t stomach the fact that one night I’ll wake up to my phone ringing and this voice I don’t know will tell me that you – you…” Maia trails off, voice caught unbearably in her throat as Clary stops right in front of her, so close that Maia could count the long lashes that framed those haunting eyes if she wants to.

Her breath is soft, wisps of warmth playing across Maia’s lips.

“I’m sorry.” Clary whispers hoarsely. She raises her hand to cup Maia’s face gently, the pad of her thumb swiping away tears Maia hadn’t known had fallen, “I’m so sorry. I’m right here.”

Maia swallows hard, raising her own hand to clasp Clary’s wrist. She feels Clary’s pulse against her fingertips, heartbeat strong and sure underneath soft, tender skin. A heartbeat that had almost ceased to exist, on the worst night of Maia’s life.

“I know.” Maia says, voice thick with tears, “I know. I just kept thinking back to that night when –” She tightens her grip on Clary’s wrist, bring her other hand to her waist and pulling her closer.

“Hey.” Clary says gently, “I’m right here.”

She leads them to the sofa, where they sit, limbs tangled together and foreheads pressed close. Maia finds her ground in the rise and fall of Clary’s chest, in the way her breath blooms warm across her collarbones. Clary’s hands hold her face like she’s the most precious thing in the world, her thumb running gently over the curves of her cheekbones. It’s all the little things about her that slowly calm Maia’s breathing.

“I’m sorry. I should have called. I’m sorry.” She murmurs the words softly, continuously, into the space between them where their breaths become one.

Maia raises her head finally to look into the shimmering green of Clary’s eyes. They’re like the forest, beautiful, and alive with a thousand heartbeats.

“I love you.” She whispers, helplessly almost, because she does. She loves this woman so much that sometimes she doesn’t know what to do with it.

Clary presses her lips to hers in a kiss that Maia feels to the tips of her being. She’s here, she’s here, she’s okay, she’s right here.

“I love you too.” Clary says against her mouth, pressing another kiss to it before pulling back and kissing Maia’s forehead.