#prayformalec

Isabelle must notice that he’s preoccupied because she slaps his shoulder as the fire dies down. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean,” Alec asks, shifting a little in his seat.

“I know that look. What’s going on with your book?”

Sighing, Alec runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You mean besides you interrupting me just when I reached the most important scene in it?”

Isabelle just looks at him expressionless and he sighs again. “I know that I’m going to need some specialized information on chemistry and healing medicine for the next chapter and I’m not having any luck on the internet.”

“Why don’t you just email your pen pal,” she asks with a raised brow.

Shoving himself out of his chair, Alec rolls his eyes as he heads to his desk, sitting down and waking up his computer. He’d clicked over to his email tab and can’t help the smile that comes over his face as he sees the latest unread message.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Has he beat you to it?”

Alec spares a second to glare at Isabelle before focusing back on the computer screen.

Good evening Alexander,

Thank you for sending that book on Shadowhunter rituals. While not quite as elucidating as I was hoping, it did make for an interesting-- if dry-- read. I hope that everything is going well on your end and that you have exciting plans lined up for the weekend.

Best,

Magnus Bane

High Warlock of Brooklyn

“Oh, since when does he call you Alexander?”

Alec startles as Izzy’s voice sounds right in his ear and his head whips up to see her reading over his shoulder with a maniacal gleam in her eye.

“We abandoned formality a couple of years ago. You know that,” he says dryly.

Sighing, Isabelle wanders over to the door. “If only the Clave knew that it’s golden boy has been keeping up a correspondence with the dastardly High Warlock of Brooklyn for over half a decade.”

“It started as purely professional,” Alec protests.

Laying a hand on the door knob, Isabelle looks back at Alec, laughing. “Yeah, and you still have that thread of professionalism in place. But you two also talk about much more than that. How in the world haven’t you ran into him yet,” Izzy wonders.

Alec shrugs. “Magnus is always so busy and my schedule is always so hectic that it’s just best to talk through email or fire message. I don’t know how I’ve always missed him when he comes by to update the wards, though.”

Isabelle doesn’t say anything for a minute, taking her time to study Alec. “Who knows,” she finally says. “Maybe one day-- before you’re so much dust in the City of Bones-- you’ll finally meet.”

She leaves without another word and Alec sits in his chair, staring at the space she’d just left, brooding.

He can’t deny that he’s thought about meeting Magnus a lot in the past several months. Every time he thinks to suggest to meet up, though, something holds him back. A part of him thinks that whatever this is between them would be ruined if he finally had a face to put to the name. There’s something private about his relationship with Magnus. Throughout the years-- since Alec had taken over as Head of the Institute when he turned eighteen-- things had morphed into something more personal.

The two of them have talked everything from travel to the idiocy of the Clave-- though Alec has had to put his diplomatic skills to the test to get his point across while still maintaining surface level piety to his superiors.

After all, his email uses Clave servers.

As Alec turns back to his word document, though, he has to admit that Isabelle’s idea has some merit. Alec has regularly asked Magnus about his background in potions and chemistry, using them in his books.

With a sigh, Alec switches back to the email tab and clicks reply.

Magnus,

I’m sorry the book couldn’t be more helpful and I’ll look for the return courier. You know my usual weekend plans-- my work as Head of the Institute never ends.

I did have a question, though, and it requires your science expertise. Hypothetically, if someone was stabbed through the chest, what potions would you create and what are their ingredients?

Thanks,

Alec

Head of the New York Institute

Alec hits send before he can think about it too much. He goes back to the latest chapter of Dance Through the Storm. He’s just getting to the part where Nathan is carrying James into the ER when he gets a notification of a new email.

Opening his email, he’s expecting the latest update from the New Orleans Institute on how they’re dealing with their attempts to establish peace treaties with their downworlder populations.

However, it looks like Magnus was particularly quick to respond to his email.

Alexander,

You know what they say about all work and no play, don’t you? While I know that shadowhunters are tragically lacking in any sense of fun, I do wish that you’d take care of yourself a bit better. I’d hate for the best damn leader that Institute’s ever seen to collapse under the weight of all that expectation.

Speaking about your question-- why don’t you come over later this week and I can walk you through the process? I’m restocking my inventory tomorrow and plan on making a few potions in preparation. What you’ve asked about is included.

Let me know either way.

Best,

Magnus Bane

High Warlock of Brooklyn

Alec reads the email twice through before letting out a breath. He feels anticipation thrumming through him at the invitation and it doesn’t vanish no matter how hard he tries to shove it down.

He’s looking forward to meeting Magnus in person. While there’s still some anxiety lurking underneath it all, it feels almost inevitable.

Truth be told, he’s always felt drawn to the High Warlock. Magnus had been the only downworlder to acknowledge the change in leadership first. He’d been surprising magnanimous in wishing Alec a successful tenure and providing his contact information if he ran into any problems.

Alec had fire messaged him within the week when he’d had to deal with a rogue warlock poisoning mundanes-- and that had just been the tip of the iceberg. When he’d first been promoted, it had been a dizzying year. Alec had felt like his head was constantly underwater with just enough time to draw a quick breath before he was inundated with something else.

The learning curve had been steep and he’d been fighting against everyone, it had seemed at the time: his parents with their biting criticism and suggestions, his peers who had an issue taking orders from someone-- a Lightwood-- years younger than them, and a Clave who were stuck in the past.

It didn’t help that Alec had yet to meet his soulmate. Shadowhunters were known to have some of the shortest timers out of all the species-- they lived fast and died young and their generations were notoriously short.

Alec hadn’t looked at his timer since he’d taken over from Maryse and Robert. It wasn’t a big deal that Alec was gay-- the timers made it clear that all manner of orientations were perfectly fine.

No, it was a dual-edged decision. Alec had been working so hard for so long that he didn’t have time for a distraction. He didn’t need to add falling in love-- finding the one person destined by Raziel for him-- when he was up to his goddamn eyeballs in mission reports and Clave mandates.

He could admit that it was a personal decision, too. Alec knew privately that he was a hopeless romantic. There was a part of him that yearned to meet his other half. Still, there was another part that feared that it was all a grand joke. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but scoff at the thought.

One person in the entire universe meant for him, Alec Lightwood. It seemed too good to be true.

No, it’s been over five years since Alec looked at the timer. At any rate, he figures that he would just know when he met him.

Timers counted down to when soulmates first laid eyes on each other. Alec has privately ruminated that it would feel like the earth had ground to a halt, that the world would fall away when he first met his soulmate.

But that was a problem for another day.

Alec sends a quick reply to Magnus, proposing a Friday morning appointment, and shuts down his computer. Looking at his watch, he grimaces as he sees that it’s already half past nine.

He stands up from his desk, stretching out his back, and grabs his coat.

The corner pizza shop closes in half an hour and Alec takes out his cell, pressing speed dial as he turns the lights out in his office.

Alec knocks on the door to the red bricked building, looking down at his phone to confirm that the address is correct.

“Good morning. Alexander, I presume?”

Alec looks up from the phone as the voice filters out from the intercom. Moving closer, he replies, “Magnus?”

“Welcome, darling.” Alec hears the latch of a door before Magnus continues, “Come right on up. My apartment is on the top floor, Penthouse One.”

The connection goes dead a second later and Alec slowly opens the front door to the building. It looks remarkably nondescript for being the home of one of the most powerful warlocks in the world but Alec smiles a little as he supposes that’s probably the point.

The lobby of the building is well done in muted tones with unpredictable splashes of color. Making his way to the elevator, Alec looks down as his phone vibrates with a text.

Knock em dead! Remember, Magnus is just as scared of you as you are of him.

Alec rolls his eyes at Izzy’s text. He wasn’t nervous to meet Magnus. Really, it was absurd that they had gone so long without officially meeting in the first place. It was just different and Alec wasn’t sure how to approach things-- should he treat Magnus as a leader first or as his unexpected friend and confidante that he’d grown into.

The elevator opens up on the top floor. Just as Alec approaches the apartment, the door swings open to reveal a smiling Magnus.

Alec does a double take and his step falters as his mind short circuits.

Magnus looks good. There are blond streaks in his hair and his shirt is red with a swirling pattern of gold shot through. He looks dressed for a day at home and Alec appreciates the look very much.

“Alexander, thank you for coming,” Magnus says warmly, gesturing him inside.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Alec says distractedly as he steps over the threshold and takes in the loft. It looks how Alec imagined it-- it’s a mishmash of antiquities with more modern pieces. It’s bold yet comfortable and Alec immediately feels at ease in the space.

Alec hears the door close behind him and then Magnus steps up to his side, leveling him with a look.

“I was starting to think I’d never meet the infamous Head of the Institute-- and more’s the pity, too, since he was practically in my backyard.”

Pulling his attention from his surroundings, Alec sends him an amused glance. “First of all, I had no idea I was considered infamous. Secondly, you could have met me years ago. You only had to ask,” he says dryly.

Magnus waves that away, heading towards his drink cart. “Your reputation precedes you, you have to know that. You’re the first shadowhunter-- let alone Head of the Institute-- to petition for more extensive downworlder rights in millenia. By all accounts you’re devilishly handsome yet stubbornly off the market.”

Pouring a generous amount of something into a martini glass, Magnus looks up at Alec with a grin. “Plus, how was I to meet with you when you’re always so damned busy? You’re always shut away in your office when I visit or out of the Institute altogether on business. You’re a hard man to keep track of, darling, and if I didn’t have our correspondence I don’t know what I’d think.”

Alec laughs as Magnus walks toward him, two glasses in hand. “My job is pretty boring, you know. You’re making it sound far too interesting.”

Magnus hands Alec his glass and takes a moment to snap his fingers over the clear liquid. Blue flames erupt and Alec can’t hide his surprised smile.

He can’t help but ask, “You know it’s not even noon, right?”

Magnus just sends him a deadpan look. “It’s happy hour somewhere, I’m sure.”

Alec huffs out a laugh but finds that he can’t argue with that logic.

Magnus sits down on the couch and Alec follows. He debates on taking a chair, but ultimately chooses the other end of the couch, too.

He’s just opening his mouth with a retort when his gaze snags on the book laying on the coffee table in front of them.

Noticing what’s caught his attention, Magnus reaches over and picks the book up, handing it over to Alec.

“Have you read anything by Gideon Penhallow before?”

Alec doesn’t look up, concentrating all of his focus onto the book now in his hands.

“I think I’ve heard of him,” he murmurs and can’t stop the faint grin.

“He’s my favorite author,” Magnus exclaims and Alec’s head whips up to see his eyes positively dancing with excitement.

“You’ve read more than one of his books?”

Magnus stands from the couch, moving over the the bookshelves close to the foyer. With his back still turned to Alec, he says, “I’ve read everything he’s ever published at least three times. His books have it all-- romance, intricate plots, and characters that I can really see myself in-- while still being easily digestible.”

He must find what he’s looking for because he slides a book out and turns back to Alec, holding it up in front of him. “The book you have is his latest-- Heavy is the Head. It’s his second in his Golden Labyrinth trilogy and I actually preordered it,” Magnus admits sheepishly. “I’m dying to know how things work out between the two protagonists. They’re in a bit of a tricky situation right now.”

Alec studies the cover of his latest book and can’t help the feeling of relief that washes over him. It was good to know that Magnus read his books-- let alone enjoyed them. He looks up at Magnus when another book is held out to him.

“This is his first book, Missing on the Inside. It’s a standalone novel but I think it’s a good starting place.”

Magnus abruptly stops, though as his expression grows self-deprecating. “If you’re even interested, that is. I didn’t mean to ambush you with book club, Alexander, forgive me. It’s just that I don’t know anyone else who reads Penhallow so it’s rare that I get to discuss my favorite author.”

Alec waves that away, grinning. “With what limited free time I have, I do like to spend with a good book. Are you letting me borrow this?”

Settling down on the couch again, Magnus rests one arm along the back. “Of course, darling. I think that we’ve been friends long enough that I can trust you with a book-- it’s not like I don’t know where to find you.”

Alec smiles but doesn’t say anything, mind whirling. While he can admit to himself that he’s in a bit of a pickle, he can’t resist the chance to hear more about what Magnus thinks of his books. If he has to reread his first novel, it’s a small price to pay.

The conversation moves on and the two of them relax with their drinks-- which Alec only takes a few reluctant sips of-- before moving on to the reason for Alec’s visit.

Tilting his head toward a hallway, Magnus asks, “Would you mind if we move things into my apothecary? It will be easier to describe what I’m talking about if I can have the tools and ingredients in front of us.”

Alec agrees and when he walks into Magnus’s study, his eyes widen in appreciation. It’s as elegant as he’d expect with shelves and shelves of ingredients meticulously organized. In the center is a large desk and as Magnus goes to stand over it, Alec sees a dozen or so ingredients lined up neatly.

“So, you wanted to know what potions or poultices I would make if someone was stabbed in the chest?” At Alec’s nod, he continues, “Was the heart nicked?”

Alec mulls the question over, eventually offering, “For sake of argument, let’s say it was.”

Magnus proceeds to walk him through the steps for a homemade poultice-- he decides to forego a potion that uses any of the more exotic ingredients that the shadow world would know-- and Alec pays close attention.

Without his quite knowing how, he spends the rest of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon in Magnus’s loft. It’s surprising but gratifying that things aren’t weird between them when it turns face to face.

Alec’s worry that they needed that impersonal divide was for naught.

Looking down at his watch, Alec curses as he sees that it’s way past lunch. Magnus looks over from where he was putting the last of his supplies away. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“I have a meeting with a Clave envoy in twenty minutes.”

Finishing up, Magnus turns and walks over to Alec, landing a considering gaze on him. “Even if you activated a rune, it would take half an hour to get back to the Institute from here.”

Alec grimaces. “I know.”

“I could,” Magnus starts. “Open a portal for you?”

Alec’s brows shoot up at the offering. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out--”

“Don’t worry about that. What’s a minor portal among friends,” Magnus asks.

Alec smiles, ducking his head a little. “Then, thank you. I’d really appreciate a portal to the Institute.”

“Say no more.”

The two of them walk back into the living room, where Alec retrieves his coat and the book at Magnus’s insistence.

“I’ll be looking forward to hearing what you think about Penhallow next time we see each other.”

Alec stares at him dumbly for a minute, adjusting the collar of his coat. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me again.”

Magnus laughs, taking a step closer to straighten out the collar. “It may have taken me six years to meet the Head of the New York Institute, but I don’t think we need to wait another six, do you?”

Looking away in the vain hope that Magnus won’t see the flush crawling up his cheeks, Alec says softly, “No, I don’t think we do.”

Magnus smiles at him and Alec’s struck by the authenticity of it. Alec is well familiar with professional smiles that never reach the eyes. Magnus, however, looks pleased at Alec’s response and he can’t stop the mildly fervent wish that Magnus is happy to see Alec-- and looking forward to seeing him again.

Alec already knows that he wants to see Magnus again.

Motioning to create the portal, Magnus makes it look effortless as one opens in the middle of the living room.

With a last smile of thanks, Alec starts to step through when Magnus’s voice calls him back.

“Alexander.”

Looking back, Alec arches a brow as he sees Magnus studying him, giving him a thorough onceover.

Magnus’s lips quirk. “You’ve surprised me,” he says, reluctantly amused.

“Good surprises I hope,” Alec says, just a little confused.

“Very good,” Magnus confirms. “I didn’t think it was possible for a shadowhunter to be so tolerable. I thought that our correspondence was a fluke because we didn’t have to see each other. Turns out, I was wrong. There’s just something about you,” Magnus muses and trails off, seemingly lost in thought.

Clearing his throat, Alec replies, “You surprised me too, you know.” Magnus’s expressions turns to one of pique as Alec continues, “Every shadowhunter has heard about the Magnus Bane. Turns out your reputation precedes you, too. I’m glad your company was just as enjoyable as your letters.”

Something flickers in Magnus’s eyes as he smiles. “Until next time, then, darling.”

Alec nods in agreement before turning and walking through the portal, back to the Institute and its million tasks waiting for him.

He feels Magnus’s eyes on his back until the portal disappears into nothing.

“Shit,” Magnus breathes, staring at his arm in stunned horror.

Looking back up to the mirror, his gaze roves over his face, the rest of him, looking for a hint, anything to explain why his countdown timer has reached zero.

Magnus hasn’t looked at his soulmate mark in years. The last time he’d unglamoured it from its prominent position on his forearm had been in the early twentieth century. He’d seen the millions of hours and minutes and seconds and hastily replaced the glamor, disgusted and melancholic along with a dozen other emotions besides.

He hadn’t the wherewithal or inclination to do the math-- all he’d known was that his soulmate, whomever they were, was too far away.

It appears that his time has run out, though.

Laughing a little at the dreadful pun, Magnus can’t stop staring down at the stark script on his arm that means he’s officially met his soulmate.

That’s the damned thing about the timers-- they just count down to the first time soulmates speak to each other. Most people obsess over their timers, counting down to the final day and hour and minute, primed to meet the person who’s perfect for them.

Unfortunately for Magnus, He didn’t even know what decade he’d meet his match, let alone the millisecond.

For fuck’s sake, he thinks. I’ve been to twelve countries the past month alone.

A hint desperately, he tries to think if any of the people he’d met with had filled him with any sort of joy or sense of knowing.

He comes up infuriatingly blank.

Standing abruptly, Magnus throws his robe on before going directly to his drink cart by the balcony. He pours a few fingers of his best scotch and downs the glass, barely tasting the liquor.

He can’t help but think that he should just know-- he should have felt something when he’d met his goddamn soulmate.

He’s a High Warlock, one of the most renowned warlocks in the world. He goes everywhere for business both personal and diplomatic and he regularly meets with dozens of people, a good chunk of them heretofore strangers.

It could be anyone, he thinks, just a touch hysterically, and takes another swallow of scotch.

He doesn’t have time to pour another glass before he hears his phone ringing from where he’d left it in the bedroom.

Summoning it to him, he can’t help the instinctive smile that curves his mouth when he sees the caller.

“Alexander,” he greets warmly. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“Hey, Magnus,” Alec says and Magnus does not feel goddamn butterflies at just the sound of his voice, tone relaxed. “I had a meeting cancel unexpectedly and realized that I still had that book you lent me? Missing on the Inside? I thought that if you were free, I could come over and return it.”

Smiling, Magnus settles in his chair by the fireplace, watching the way the light strikes hints of gold in his scotch. He makes up his mind in an instant.

“That sounds lovely, darling. Though, what do you say we get dinner instead? It is early evening, after all, and I don’t know about you but I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast-- and that was hours ago.”

“It’s been a pretty hectic day for me,” Alec admits. “I could go for dinner. Did you have something in mind?

Narrowing his eyes in thought, Magnus offers, “I know this great Ethiopian place a few blocks from me. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great. I can be there in about an hour?”

“I wait with bated breath,” Magnus teases and hangs up to the sound of Alec laughing.

With a quick glance to his grandfather clock, Magnus sees that it’s just before six. Looking down at himself, he grimaces.

He’d just taken off his makeup and changed into his nightwear.

Sighing, Magnus stands up and throws back the rest of his glass, setting it down on the end table with a dull thud.

He decides with alacrity not to worry about his timer. He’s waited centuries-- what’s a little more time, he thinks a little bitterly.

Besides, he has far bigger concerns at the moment-- like what to wear to dinner tonight.

As his thoughts turn to Alexander, Magnus feels something bubbling.

Something that feels a lot like anticipation.

Magnus walks into the bookstore in Lower Manhattan and immediately feels his shoulders relax.

It’s been one hell of a day, but Magnus has had this event on his calendar for ages. While he frequents bookstores-- visiting one whenever he has time on his travels-- it’s rare that Magnus has enjoyed an author enough to attend an event.

As soon as he’d read the Times and seen that Gideon Penhallow was set to host a book signing and reading of his latest book, Against the Wall. It was the conclusion to his latest trilogy and Magnus had gone so far as to cancel his clients the day the book came out, needing to know what had happened to Nathan and James as soon as possible.

It had been everything he was hoping and if the teaser for his next book, Can You See Me, was any indication, Magnus knows that the next series is going to be even better.

No one knew what Penhallow looked like, though. As far as Magnus knew, Gideon Penhallow could be a pen name for all the information that had been released about one of hottest current authors in the publishing world. Magnus had RSVP’d for the event as soon as he’d read the advertisement.

The program this evening is limited to only a hundred guests and Magnus is excited to hear the author himself read an excerpt from his latest release.

He snags one of the last seats-- a client emergency had ran perilously over-- and as he slips into the chair, Magnus sees that Penhallow had yet to appear. Glancing down at his watch, the event is slated to start in five minutes and Magnus goes through his email, answering a text from Catarina while he waits.

Looking up at the hush of the crowd, Magnus freezes, not believing his eyes.

He studies Alec from his messy dark hair to his runeless neck, to the hand tailored suit.

Alec, who for his own part looks equal parts thrilled and nervous as he sits down on the stool in from of the microphone.

“Good evening,” he says into the mic and Magnus’s eyes dart around the bookstore, waiting to see that this is just a joke-- even a parallel universe.

The crowd murmurs back a hello and Alec’s expression evens out and he fiddles with the microphone. “Thank you all for coming tonight to my very first author event.” Laughing with a tinge of self-deprecation, Alec nods at the crowd. “I’ve been overwhelmed with support for Against the Wall- and really, this trilogy in general. I’m looking forward to answering some questions and meeting you all tonight.”

Clearing his throat, Alec reads an excerpt from his book that leads in to an action scene. Magnus relaxes against his seat, crossing his legs as he listens to Alec read aloud. The surprise is quickly wearing off and Magnus starts piecing together the fact that Alexander Lightwood, Head of the New York shadowhunters, was a damned bestselling author.

He winces a little when he replays their first meeting and instead of vague interest, Magnus can now see the coyness in Alec’s answer-- I think I’ve heard of him.

Magnus narrows his eyes at Alec from where he’s sitting, unobserved.

Oh, that sneaky bastard, he thinks, impressed.

Shaking his head, Magnus comes back to attention when Alec starts reading the section when Nathan works on a salve just in case things go wrong at the scheduled meet-up the next chapter.

His eyes widen when he hears the instructions he gave Alec months ago.

When he really thinks about it, Magnus wants to slap both of them. Penhallow, for fuck’s sake, was an old, traditional shadowhunter name.

Alec stops speaking and Magnus claps with the rest of the crowd when he closes the book with a small smile. A question and answer session follows and Magnus listens with interest and not a little amusement as Alec dodges questions about why he’s so secretive and spoilers for his upcoming series.

Soon enough, it’s time for the book signing portion of the event and Magnus waits in his seat, wanting to be the last in line.

It takes a while and Magnus is a little surprised as he watches Alec take his time with every single guest. He looks happy and engaged and Magnus can’t stop his own smile from forming as he sees Alec in-- one of-- his element.

When there’s just a few people in line, Magnus stands and makes his way to the end of the queue. When his turn comes, he slides his book to Alec.

“What happened to your rune,” he asks, amused when Alec’s head snaps up.

“Magnus,” Alec says, voice strangled.

Magnus just raises a brow, waiting for an answer.

“I glamoured them,” Alec finally admits. “It wouldn’t do to advertise them, now would it?”

The two of them stare at each other for a long minute before Alec finally asks, “What are the chances,” in a dazed tone.

“I’d say pretty good, Alexander, considering I consistently rave about my favorite author who just so happens to be a recluse.”

Looking down, Alec takes Magnus’s book and opens the front cover. “And what did you think,” he asks, looking at Magnus through his lashes.

Humming thoughtfully, Magnus watches as Alec starts writing something.

“You’re a wonderful orator, darling, and a master at deflection. You know that everyone thinks you’re some sort of clandestine government agent don’t you?”

Alec just shrugs. “It fits with the kind of stories I write and if it keeps them from finding out what I really am, than they can think whatever they want.”

Magnus just shakes his head as Alec fans the ink to dry and shuts the book. “I can’t believe you acted like you didn’t know who Gideon Penhallow was when we first met. That could have been irredeemably embarrassing.”

“What did you want me to do,” Alec asks dryly. “‘Oh, hey Magnus actually I not only know mundane culture but I’ve been on the New York Times bestsellers list for 43 weeks running?’ You would have looked at me like I’d sprouted horns.”

“Still,” Magnus says. “I can’t believe I’ve known my favorite author for months and didn’t even know it. Think of all the inside information I could have tried to pry from you,” Magnus says in dawning realization.

Alec just laughs and holds out the book for Magnus to take.

They both gasp, eyes widening, as their fingers brush and send a jolt of electricity through them both.

“It’s you,” Alec blurts out, tone accusatory.

Mind still reeling with what’s just happened, Magnus absently asks, “What do you mean, darling?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

At Alec’s words, said on a disbelieving breath, something in Magnus stills, slotting carefully into place.

Of course, he thinks dizzily. It had to be Alexander.

He shakes his head a little to clear it and when he focuses on Alec, it’s like he’s looking at him in a brand new light.

“You’re my soulmate,” Magnus echoes and watches as Alec’s eyes light up.

Alec stands before rounding the table. He reaches for Magnus only to stop in his tracks.

“You--” he breaks off, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. “You’re happy about this right? Or at least not horrified.”

At Alec’s whispered question, Magnus jolts into action, reaching out himself to lay a hand on Alec’s shoulder. They both brace for another jolt but this time it’s a current of warmth that runs through Magnus. In an instant he feels like he knows Alec, like he’s found that missing puzzle piece that he long thought he’d lost.

He looks at Alec and it’s a sense of familiarity, like his soul recognizes Alexander on the molecular level.

Giddily, he wonders if that isn’t far from the truth.

“Of course I’m happy about this, Alexander. How couldn’t I be? We’ve known each other for years and I have to say that I like you quite a lot.”

Alec starts smiling, wrapping a hand around Magnus’s waist to pull him even closer.

“Quite a lot, huh,” he murmurs and lays a hesitant hand on Magnus’s cheek.

Magnus can’t help himself. He turns his head imperceptibly and kisses Alec’s palm, grinning when he sees that Alec’s eyes are glued to him.

It’s like a moment suspended in time and Magnus can’t believe his good fortune. It’s true that he’s felt connected to Alec since that very first letter all those years ago. Talking to him-- a shadowhunter, a Lightwood-- was easy. It felt natural. Magnus was more comfortable with Alec than he was with some of his oldest friends and at last he had a reason for that.

Alec was his soulmate.

Magnus’s breath catches as Alec gets a look in his eye that’s indescribable but intentional all the same. When Alec kisses him, Magnus closes his eyes and leans into the sensation.

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had-- which is saying quite a lot-- and something in him rejoices that it’s just the first of many.

Alec swims to consciousness when he feels someone slide his glasses off his nose, when he hears the tiny click as they’re set on his desk. He’s still too tired to open his eyes-- he’s on deadline to his editor not to mention Jace has gotten into at least fifteen cups of hot water this week.

He’s just about to fall back under when he hears a sharp inhale. Blearily, he opens his eyes and sees Magnus, face illuminated by his laptop screen, staring at his open word document.

Alec knows he must’ve fallen asleep at the dedication and he smiles a little as he watches Magnus’s reaction.

“It’s true, you know,” he says, voice still a little rough from his impromptu nap.

Magnus’s gaze switches to him and Alec can’t stop the smile that he just knows is fond as hell from creeping over his face.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus says, voice hushed.

“I love you too, soulmate,” Alec says, teasing lilt in his tone.

Laughing quietly, Magnus brushes Alec’s hair out of his face, letting his hand rest against his neck.

“What do you say we go to bed, darling?”

“Yeah, okay babe.”

Alec lets Magnus lead him to their bedroom where he falls onto his side of the bed inelegantly.

Magnus just shakes his head fondly as he watches his husband fall asleep within seconds, his snores a soothing noise in the quiet of their room.

Magnus climbs into bed behind Alec, throwing an arm over his side and shifting closer.

He falls asleep soon enough, bemused with a quiet sort of wonder.

It’s been years and Alec still has the power to bring him to his knees with a few words said in his earnest, sincere voice.

To the love of my life,

I’m thankful everyday that you took a chance and bestowed your standard kindness to a young leader who was in way over his head.

This book is for you. My soulmate, my husband, my partner. I hope that you find a hint of our story in these pages and know that you are my infinite muse, my inspiration to be a better man every day.

Eternally yours,

“It looks disgusting.” Alec says plainly, picking up a bag and turning it over in his hands to scrutinize it properly.

Magnus rips open one of the bags then and there, not bothering to wait until they paid, or are even in line. “HERE.” He dumps a few into Alec’s hands, ignoring the protests from his friend who’s eyes grow wide, looking around to make sure no one will see to yell at them before popping one into his mouth and pulling a face. “They’re pure sugar!”

“That’s the point. Delicious, aren’t they?” Magnus tries to read Alec’s expression as he chews.

“I can’t believe this is what you drove us four hours for.” Alec is incredulous.

“Just keep eating them. If you don’t love them now they’ll grow on you, I promise.” Magnus watches Alec’s eyes dart nervously back down at the opened bag in Magnus’ hands and he laughs lightly. “Relax, I’m buying this bag,” Magnus reassures him. “In fact,” he adds, that same smirk from hours before returning in all its glory. “I’m buying all of the bags.”

With that he begins to grab armfuls of the bright orange bags, much to Alec’s wide-eyed horror. “You’re not serious, are you?”

Magnus pauses, a bag slipping from the tall pile gathered against his chest. “...of course I am, Alexander. I never joke about candy corn.” He tosses the bags unceremoniously into the cart. “Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

Realizing that Magnus was, in fact, serious, Alec walks over to the shelves and begins gathering more of the bags to dump into the cart. They don’t buy all of them, but they come pretty damn close.

Magnus hands over his dad’s credit card at the checkout counter with a quick wink at Alec. His dad isn’t around often and they don’t particularly get along, but in return his parents let Magnus do pretty much whatever he wants, whenever he wants, to buy his favor. It doesn’t work, Magnus confided in him one day while he paid for their impromptu trip out of town for lunch, but that doesn’t stop him from abusing the freedom in moments like that.

And moments like this. Nearly $400 later they leave with a little over 100 bags of candy corn.

“Do I want to ask what you’re going to do with this?” Alec questions hesitantly. It’s 9:30, on a school night, and they won’t be back until after 1 am. He texts his sister to cover for him and hopes Izzy follows through so his parents don’t murder him before homecoming.

“I think you mean, what ‘we’re’ going to do with this?” Magnus corrects, the hint of a challenge in his words. Whatever his plan is Alec knows it involved getting little to no sleep before school the next day. If he wants out this is his chance, but he can’t imagine denying the opportunity to spend more time with Magnus, no matter the hour.

He doesn’t amend Magnus’ correction.

It’s nearly 1:30 am when they get back into Alicante, the open bag of candy corn sitting on the consol entirely empty.

“You sure did eat a lot of those for someone who doesn’t like ‘pure sugar’.” “Shut up. Ready?”

“I’m always ready,” Magnus counters with a wink. Alec’s thankful for the cover of darkness as the heat tinges the higher parts of his cheeks and around his ears. “Let’s do this.”

Riding quite the sugar high they set to work, and it’s a little after 3:30 by the time they finish. Sure, they could’ve cut that time in half by splitting up into separate cars, but Alec doesn’t make the suggestion and neither does Magnus.

When the town stirs away with the rising sun they find more than just the morning paper waiting on their doorsteps - they also find a bag of candy corn on each and every welcome mat. No one ever found out where they came from, and Alec and Magnus never spoke of it again, though Izzy is certain the bags under her brother’s eyes the next morning on their way into school tell more than the speculation of town gossip could ever guess…

...as does the dopey grin on his face all morning that only grows when his eyes lock with Magnus’ across the hall. Magnus gives him another wink, except this time there’s no darkness to hide behind when he ears tinge pink.