#sidney writes

So he had a crush on Jon. It wasn’t going to actually go anywhere; Jon was his boss. That’d be a huge HR violation. Probably. Either way, it wasn’t fair of Tim to just barge in and start interrogating him about who he liked, as if they were still in primary school. Especially not when he opened up a whole can of worms about his insecurities, even though it was kind of nice to affirm that at least one of his colleagues was still his friend.

Still though, he absolutely didn’t need to start throwing out names like he did. And from what he managed to infer from the conversation, Tim and Sasha had some sort of bet on his romantic life. And then he said - that.

“Dance card’s open.”

With a wink.

What was Martin supposed to do with that, exactly? Of course he’d noticed Tim’s flirting. But he flirted with everyone; Sasha, Jon, Kevin, even Rosie! Martin even saw him wink at Elias once, though he received such an intense glare in return that Tim had never tried again. So what were a couple of dirty jokes and glances every now and then between friends?

Oh god. Was Tim actually into him? Martin fretted over this for an admittedly considerable period of time before finally deciding to ask Tim himself. After all, didn’t he do the exact same thing to Martin not even a week ago? He drafted, the redrafted, text after text before finally just asking if Tim wanted to get drinks together that night, since it was Friday and neither of them had to actually work the next day. Although, he supposed, Martin did have to come back to the Institute. Because he lived there now.

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting the near-immediate confirmation text Tim sent. He’d expected the text to go unread until Monday, or for him to politely decline because he had company that evening. And why wouldn’t he? He’s Tim, the man with a body to die for and a personality that immediately drew one in. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit attracted to his friend. It was no big deal, because you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the greater London area that wasn’t at least a little in love with Timothy Stoker.

But Tim had responded, with an enthusiastic “Yes please!” that had Martin’s heart racing for totally normal reasons. With only a minimal amount of fumbling, they’d agreed to a time and place to meet. Martin resolutely did not spend the hours leading up to that fussing over his appearance. Tim knew his living situation, and hopefully wouldn’t be too put off by the outfit Martin put together from his measly selection of clothes he rescued from his flat. Surprisingly, he didn’t think to grab eveningwear in his rush to pack the essentials and get the hell out of there. Besides, it’s not like this was a date .

***

“Martin!” Tim exclaimed from the booth he’d claimed in the bar they’d chosen. He stood to give Martin a one-armed hug in greeting. If that sent him blushing, Tim thankfully didn’t comment on it. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to initiate this little meetup! These days, it’s usually me or Sasha that have to drag you out of the Institute for some fresh air. Or just to see other people that aren’t staff.” Tim said with a pointed look.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not the easiest thing to not freak out in public every time I see a worm. Sometimes they’re real, but most of the time I’m afraid I’m imagining them.” Martin felt relieved at being able to admit that, if a little embarrassed. But Tim wore an expression that conveyed his understanding and blessedly changed the subject by ordering both of them a stiff pint.

“All work talk aside, what prompted you to call on me?” Tim inquired. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“I actually wanted to, ah - I wanted to talk to you about something you said the other day.” Martin admitted to the table, suddenly fascinated in the grain of the wood. He began tracing a line with a finger.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, Martin. I was just having a bit of fun, a little curious about what had you so distracted, but that’s all. I’m sorry if it was out of line. I know we work together but you’re still my friend and I’d hate-”

“It’s not that!” Martin cut in. Looking up from his table when their drinks were delivered, he took a breath in attempt to calm his racing heart. “No, Tim, it wasn’t that. Well, it was, but about the other thing.” Tim seemed confused. “After. The second time.”

A look of realization crossed over his face. Martin’s own face seemed to be made of fire, so he busied himself by taking a deep drink from his pint. A slow grin started to unfurl from Tim’s lips.

“Martin, don’t tell me you texted me for a booty call ?” He beamed at Martin with a shit-eating grin.

“No! Tim, god, no!” Oh, he actually seemed a bit disappointed in that. “I mean, not that there’s no interest! Oh, would you please say something else before I embarrass myself even further? I didn’t ask to see you for a booty call, Tim. I just wanted to know what you meant?”

“What I meant by…” Trailing off, Tim took some time to remember what exactly it was that had confused Martin. Across the table, Martin was steadily draining his beer in an attempt to keep his mouth occupied and not talking. “Oh! The dance card thing?” He nodded. “That’s basically what it says on the tin, right? Dance card’s open, I’m open, get it?”

“Uhm,” Martin started again, “So you were, you were being serious?” Before Tim could answer, the waiter stopped by to collect their glasses and Martin mumbled his way through asking for a refill. When he looked back across the table, Tim looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Martin, I thought you knew! Christ, I’ve been dropping hints for what feels like forever. You really weren’t aware I was sincerely hitting on you?”

If it was possible, Martin’s cheeks coloured even deeper. “No? I thought you flirted with everyone! You’re always making eyes at our other colleagues, and two weeks ago you kissed Sasha’s cheek! Also, like, I’m me and you’re you .” He decided it was best to stop talking when Tim’s expression went from amused to vaguely pissed off the longer Martin tried to explain.

“Okay, one: I ‘make eyes’ at people I find attractive. In case you weren’t aware, that includes you too.” Martin tried to shrink into himself. “And two: I kissed Sasha’s cheek because she agreed to take one of my more frustrating cases and couldn’t give her a hug due to the files I was currently carrying. But that doesn’t mean anything.” Tim shrugged, “I just wanted you to know that if it was me you were acting all dreamy about, I’d really like you to act on that because I fancy you , as hard as that is for you to believe.”

Fixing his posture, as well as the no doubt dumbstruck look on his face, Martin cleared his throat. “Well. I, uh, thank you? I guess, same? I mean, ditto. I think I’d like to accept your dance card invitation, if you still have an opening?”

“Of course I do.” After that, they finished their drinks in companionable silence. The air was a little bit charged, a little heavy, and neither quite wanted to break the tension yet. Eventually, Tim called the waiter over and paid their tab. “So, what now?” he asked with a warm smile. “I think we’ve spent what time we want to here, but I don’t think I’m ready to let you go just yet. We could grab a late night bite to eat, or we could actually go dancing at one of the clubs around here? And there’s always my flat. I’m sure I can scrounge up something for a nightcap, if you’d like. Promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

With a groan, Martin politely declined both options of staying out later. Unfortunately, his body just isn’t quite as young as it used to be, and he’d never been much of a clubbing kind of guy.

Which is how the two of them ended up on opposite ends of Tim’s couch, each nursing a cup of tea that Tim insisted on making. Even they both knew Martin’s tea would have been far superior. They’d chatted idly about their childhoods (Tim’s was objectively happier), families, and other idle topics on the walk to the flat, but Martin was still mulling over the conversation that led them here.

“About your advice back in the archives, just out of curiosity, where do you think I stand firm, Tim? Not - not things that I can give people, right?” Tim set his empty mug on the coffee table while he mulled the question over in his head.

“Of course. I mean firstly, I think you’re incredibly brave. I would’ve quit the second that freaky worm lady let me go. But you’re still here, Martin. You’ve not thrown in the towel and found somewhere else to work, instead you stayed and kept researching even when I know you’re scared.” Martin looked as if he was about to interrupt. “I’m not done!” Tim said, shushing him with a finger to his lips.

“You’re also very kind. Now I know that making people tea is technically giving something, but you’re probably the only person I know that can make the perfect cup every time. And we never have to ask! You’ve always been great at conversation, ever since you started working at the institute. It can get pretty dreary in the archives, and I know all of us appreciate you being there to brighten it up a bit.”

By now, Martin was incredibly red-faced. He batted Tim’s hand away. “Are you done?” he asked, with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“Nah, I also think you’re hot as hell.” Tim declared, smirking. Martin made a noise that was half squeak, half groan and put his head in his hands.

“I’d really like it if you’d shut up now, Tim,” he said, the words slightly muffled by his palms.

“Well, I’d really like it if you came over here and made me.”

Half scandalized and half intrigued, Martin carefully shuffled closer to Tim. They were almost knee to knee. Ever so slowly, Tim reached over and pried the mug from his hands. The gentle clink of ceramic on glass broke whatever spell that’d entranced them, and Martin lurched forward.

The kiss was slightly off center with the force of Martin’s body pressing Tim back against the arm of the couch. He angled his head more and, oh, that was so much better. Every sense of his was heightened with the slick slide of their lips. Tim was kissing back with just enough fervour, if not more. There was a hand in his hair and a fist curled in the front of his shirt, hauling Martin closer, closer, ever closer.

Tim let his legs fall further apart and Martin greedily scooted into the space left for him between his thighs. Tim was one hot line of heat plastered to his front, and he couldn’t get enough. He placed a hand on Tim’s jaw and deepened the kiss. With the first sweep of tongue across his lips, he desperately reined in the moan that threatened to spill out. It’s a good thing that they were already sitting down, because the things Tim did with his tongue made his legs feel like trembling jelly. He felt like a trembling mess, and they were only making out . He hoped Tim didn’t think he was too easy.

Trying to regain his composure and actively participate, Martin slid one hand down Tim’s chest. With a surprised noise, Tim’s hips stuttered upwards and his hand tightened almost painfully in Martin’s curls. This time, Martin couldn’t hold back a moan at the dual sensations. At least now he knew that Tim was just as affected as he was.

Martin leaned down to lave at Tim’s jawline, working his way down his throat and cataloging which spots caused a reaction. After that first bridge was crossed, neither of them could quite stop the slow grinding of their hips against each one another. One particularly sharp circle of his hips had Martin’s head hanging forward, lips brushing an earlobe as he let out a soft “Oh, Tim.”

Tim abruptly stopped his movements and gently pulled Martin up to meet his gaze. “Not that I’m not having an incredible time right now, but would you like to move somewhere a little more comfortable than this couch?” Martin gave an enthusiastic nod and climbed off his lap, gesturing at Tim to lead the way.

They eventually made it across the flat into Tim’s bedroom, making only one short detour so Tim could press Martin up against the wall and kiss him senseless. He wasn’t afraid to beg a little when Tim slid a thigh between his own and pressed up. “Tim, please, if you keep that up..” he trailed off and Tim relented, taking his hand until they made it to the bed and Martin was gently pushed backwards.

Tim took a moment to pull his shirt over his head before climbing after Martin, settling with his knees at either side of his waist, asking, “I’d like to take yours off too, if you’d like?” And God, he should not be allowed to look so debauched and sexy while asking something so politely. With a mumbled “yes, please,” Tim rucked up his shirt, sliding his hands up his chest as he went. Being pressed chest to chest sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he returned to Tim’s slightly swollen and shiny red lips.

After a few minutes of messy, heated kissing and aborted thrusts of hips, it became clear to Martin that Tim wasn’t going to be the one to escalate things any further. Reluctantly, Martin pulled away from the heat of his mouth. “I know I said that tonight wasn’t a booty call, but what would happen if I said I might like that?”

Tim smiled wickedly. “I would say something along the lines of ‘finally!’ and then do this.” With that, he slithered down Martin’s torso, stopping at his belt, where he was achingly hard in his pants. “That looks uncomfortable,” he mused, with a devious glint in his eyes. In no time at all Martins trousers were tossed off the side of the bed, and Tim was breathing hotly at the front of his pants. He wasn’t moving.

Martin tried to keep the whine out of his voice as he said “Feel free to continue any time.”

“Hmm. You’ll have to ask politely, Martin.” And oh, Tim was just pushing all the right buttons tonight. When Martin didn’t say anything in response, Tim’s mouth made contact with his briefs, wetting the fabric around his cock and applying a hint of friction.

“Okay, please, Tim, please!” Martin begged.

“Good boy,” Tim murmured as he pulled the pants all the way down and off. Martin tried his very best not to whimper at the praise. “God, look at you,” he breathed, gazing down at the now fully naked Martin in his bed. He squirmed uncomfortably on the sheets before Tim acquiesced and finally took the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth. Martin had always been sensitive, and this was no exception. He brought a fist up to his mouth to keep the choked-off sounds of pleasure in, but Tim pulled off with an admonishing look and tugged the hand away. “Come on, I want to hear you. Can’t you see how hot that is, how hard it makes me?”

Glancing down, Martin could see Tim shallowly thrusting his hips into the mattress, as if he was getting off on sucking him off. He let his head fall back and groaned, but kept his hands fisted in the sheets instead of covering his mouth. Satisfied, Tim returned to laving at Martins cock. He ran his lips and tongue all over, getting him wet before sucking his cock into the back of his mouth.

He kept at it, changing up the pressure and speed, all the while Martin was letting an almost constant stream of pleasured noises slip from his throat. He tentatively unfurled one hand from the sheets and placed it on Tim’s head, pulling gently. Tim moaned around his cock, and that was it, it was too much- “Tim, Tim I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” he panted.

With an obscene pop Tim pulled off and crawled back up to kiss Martin after sparing a second to wipe at his mouth. “Yeah, come on, come for me,” he slipped a hand around Martins wet cock and managed only a couple of strokes before he bit down on Tim’s lower lip with a grunt and came harder than he had in months . Tim kept kissing him and stroking him through it before slowing to a stop when his hips twitched away, oversensitive.

He came back to himself and kissed Tim back with renewed vigor. “Fuck, Tim, you’re incredible. Here, let me -” but before he could get his hand around Tim’s cock, he was groaning through his own orgasm and thrusting weakly against Martin’s hip. “Oh, okay. Hah, that works too, I guess.”

Looking not even the tiniest bit bashful, Tim smiled up at him. “Sorry, you were just really hot. Didn’t quite want to wait when I was so close .” He kissed Martin’s cheek, his nose, and finally his lips. “But the night is still young. You could always get me off during round two?” Martin groaned and buried his face in Tim’s messy hair.

“You’re severely underestimating how thoroughly you’ve worn me out.” Tim pulled back and stuck his tongue out at him before settling into a smirk. Martin pulled him down to kiss the smug look off his face. “However, after getting cleaned up a bit and a quick nap, I could be convinced to go again.” Tim hummed softly before pushing off the bed to grab a wet cloth. Martin couldn’t not watch him as he left.

***

Later, when they both were cleaned up and half-spooning on Tim’s large bed, Tim interrupted the sleepy silence by voicing something that had clearly been on his mind all night. “So it was me you were mooning over while we were heroically exterminating worms, then?

And when Max got his first rune, all eyes were on him. For ten seconds, they celebrated the young shadowhunter. Alec watched as Jace pulled Clary away, talking about her safety, he supposed. Maryse dismissed the Silent Brother and the family was alone.

“Max, come with me to the kitchen so we can dig into the delicious cake you picked out.” Maryse said as she took Max by the shoulder and led him towards the exit. The rest of the shadowhunters followed suit, Isabelle’s heels clicking on the floor as she rushed after her little brother into the institute’s kitchen.

When Jace left Alec and Clary alone, the now familiar guilt crawled up his spine. He desperately wanted to believe that she truly didn’t blame him, and the sincerity in her eyes allowed him to pat her arm in recognition. He hasn’t forgiven himself yet; isn’t sure that he ever will.

As he walked closer to Jace and his mother, Alec overheard Maryse apologize, and the tightness in his chest loosened a bit. It broke his heart when the first tear fell from his mother’s eyes. Even in her weakest moment, he realized, she was truly beautiful. How anyone could cheat on her, he would never understand. As he held his sobbing mother in his arms, Alec made two vows.

One, he would give Maryse another chance to redeem herself. She’d made things right with Jace and the next logical step would be to apologize to Magus.

As for the second, Alec vowed to never hurt Magnus in such a way that Robert hurt Maryse. He couldn’t see the future, but he knew with all of his heart that he wanted one with the warlock. He couldn’t imagine intentionally hurting him, and he promised to try his best to always be a safe space for Magnus.

~

Max was on his second piece of cake when Alec walked into the kitchen. He looked incredibly tired, but his eyes lit up when they landed on his youngest sibling.

“Is the cake good?” He asked as he cut a small slice for himself. Max hummed in agreement, his mouth full with a bit of frosting on his chin. Alec smiled and grabbed a napkin to wipe Max’s face. He looked up sheepishly and mumbled a quick “thanks” before shoveling more cake into his mouth. After he’d finished the last bite, Max cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention.

“Alec, I’m sorry. About last night.” Alec frowned as he remembered the night he so desperately wanted to forget. Max continued, “I didn’t mean to be so mean to Magnus. But he’s the first warlock I’ve ever met… and it was a little scary.” He shrugged, suddenly very interested in the empty plate before him. “But it wasn’t very nice to ask him all those things about the darker parts of him. And I’m sorry I didn’t make a very good first impression. Magnus must hate me.” Alec’s gaze sharpened at that, locking eyes with his brother as he leaned on the counter to speak.

“Max, Magnus doesn’t hate you. In fact, I’m afraid he thinks you hate him.” Max’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He was so excited to meet you. I understand that you’d feel a little uncomfortable in a strange warlock’s home for the first time. I did.” Alec blushed at that, hoping Max wouldn’t notice. “But there’s a reason why I asked Magnus to have the party at his place. I wanted Mom to know that Magnus, as my… boyfriend,” the word felt odd coming from his mouth for the first time, “isn’t going away. I guess we’re sort of a packaged deal.” Alec finished with a lopsided smile, emotion clear on his face.

“Do you love Magnus?” Max asked simply. And Alec paused to think about that. A week ago he would’ve outright shut the idea down. But now… he was allowed to think of love. He loved Magnus’ laugh, and his hands as they danced with magic. He loved many things about Magnus.

“It’s still really early in the relationship, Max. I think it’s a bit more complicated than a yes or no. But yeah, I think I could love him, if we continue dating like we are.” Alec didn’t expect Max to understand, but he was surprised when his little brother just smiled and nodded.

When Alec glanced at his phone, he saw that he’d missed a message from Magnus. It was getting late, and Alec wished Max a good night as he headed towards the loft he’d began to think of as a second home.

~

It was late in the evening when Magnus heard the soft knock at his door. Alec quietly snuck inside, calling to Magnus softly, as if he’d been afraid to disturb the peace. The apartment looked different from before, couches were rearranged and lamps were changed after the party. Magnus sauntered in the main room, a smirk on his lips as he greeted Alec with a quick kiss.

“Ah yes, I felt the urge to redecorate after last night’s extravagance. Do you like it?” He asked, arms spread wide as if revealing some expensive piece of artwork. Alec simply nodded. Sensing his boyfriend’s mood, Magnus gestured to the smaller of the couches.

“Sit, please. Let me grab a drink.” Magnus disappeared into his kitchen, returning seconds later with two wine glasses full of clear liquid. When Alec raised a brow, Magnus snickered and handed a glass to him.

“Relax, it’s only water, my dear.” Magnus pat his knee when Alec flushed a deep pink. “I know you didn’t come here to drink. What’s on your mind?” Alec took a long gulp of his water.

“I just. It’s just been a really long weekend. I wish we could just freeze time. For just a few days, I don’t want to worry about Valentine or the war or my parents. We never have time to just… be still and talk, you know?” Alec’s elbows were leaning on his knees and he wasn’t fully seated on the couch, as if he felt he’d need to leave soon. Magnus carefully placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the couch, a silent reminder to relax, that he was there to stay and to listen.

“I know what you mean,” Magnus began with a bitter smile. “I wish I could do that for you, Alexander. But even my magic has its limits. Time must go on. But, it’s not too incredibly late, yes? We still have a few good hours left in the night, then we’ll get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll make breakfast in the morning, okay?” Magnus looked so encouraging that Alec didn’t have to think twice about spending the night. It would be nice to just be together, even for only a few hours.

“Yeah, okay.” And there was that soft smile Magnus had come to love seeing on Alec’s face. He watched as it slowly faded into confusion when Magnus set both his and Alec’s glass down on the coffee table and turned to face the shadowhunter.

“Alec, I want to talk to you about last night, if that’s alright.” And aside from a resigned sort of look on his face, Alec didn’t protest. “Iris was messing with our heads, playing with our greatest insecurities and fears. Poor Clary was in tears when she thought the vampire boy had abandoned her. Jace knocked out your mother while hallucinating that she had tried to kill him.”

Alec nodded along. He only knew bits and pieces from short conversations with Jace, but it was good to hear the whole story. Although, he felt a sinking feeling deep in his gut when he realized where the conversation was going.

“That spell she cast. It affected our minds so that what we saw and heard wasn’t reality. But it didn’t affect our thoughts, emotions, or actions.” Magnus looked at Alec pointedly. “I understand that you feel guilty about Jocelyn’s death. I’ve been alive for centuries, there are many people who’ve deaths I have - and still do - feel guilty about. You are a good man, Alexander. Be kind to yourself… please.”

“Clary called me just before you arrived this evening. She told me that whatever the spell had made you think she said, that you went straight to the roof after only a few moments.” Magnus was grasping at Alec’s hands now, begging him to listen. But yet, he still tried to look away from Magnus’ steady gaze. “Alec, Alec please, look at me.” He released one of Alec’s hands then, only to gently cup his cheek and turn his face towards himself once again.

“I’ve been there, Alexander. I know the turmoil in your head. I have been on that ledge before, ready to end it all. But someone stopped me, cared enough to talk me down so that I could be here today, with you. But Alec, you… you stepped off the ledge. If I had been only seconds later, I couldn’t have-” Magnus broke off with a choking sort of sound, and he was clutching Alec’s hand so tight it hurt. But Alec couldn’t care less about his hand at that moment, because the beautiful warlock before him was trying very hard to hold back tears.

“I know… I know that you don’t understand this yet, Alexander. But you are… incredibly dear to me. I don’t think that I would survive that, Alec. If you’d died,” Magnus was breathing heavily now, tears flowing freely down his face. “I can’t lose you. You have to know that.”

Alec responded in the only way he knew how. Through touch. He carefully pried his hands out of the warlock’s grasp, only for Alec to run his hands up Magnus’ arms, shifting closer so he was in his personal space. His hands came up behind and around Magnus’ neck, and when he closed his eyes, Alec pressed their foreheads together.

Arms wound around Magnus’ back, clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt as Alec all but climbed onto him before letting out a pained sound and hugged him. The warmth of his embrace relaxed him, even as Alec started to tremble, ever so slightly.

“I didn’t know,” He whispered, “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think of me like this… weak.” Hiding his face in Magnus’ shoulder, Alec let the first tear fall. “I’m sorry. By the Angel, I am so sorry Magnus. I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking when I was up there. But you… you saved me, Magnus, thank you.” Alec shuddered as Magnus clung to him. “I’m sorry you had to see that… but I’m glad you were there, to stop it.”

“Oh, Alexander.” Magnus pulled away a little then, so he could hold Alec’s face in place with both hands. “I will always be there for you, got it? Always.” Alec made a soft sound, once again burying his face in the crook of Magnus’ neck. The warlock let out a little breathy laugh when he felt gentle kisses being pressed into the skin of his neck.

“Hey. Hey, stop for a second okay?” Alec leaned away from him then, eyes still closed and biting his lower lip. God, Magnus wanted to kiss him. But there were more important matters at the moment. “Alec, are you okay? Please… be honest with me.” Alec opened his eyes and pressed his lips together in thought.

“Not… not yet. But I will be. With you here, I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” And that was one of the best responses Magnus could’ve asked for. Suddenly, the distance between them was far too much, and Magnus curled his fingers in Alec’s hair, drawing him closer to ease the ache in his chest that seemed to appear when Alec was close but not close enough.

The air between them was thick and heavy, and Magnus didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace so he whispered when he asked if he could kiss Alec. He made this soft, disbelieving sound before nodding quickly. And Magnus had to force himself to stop smiling so he could finally press their lips together. It was so worth it though, when Alec sighed and parted his lips a little.

He doesn’t know how long they stayed there on the couch like that, but at some point his toes started to get cold so he summoned a few blankets. And really, who was he to complain when Alec laughed and pulled a blanket around them, wrapping them up in their own little world. Magnus pressed soft kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, even nuzzled their noses together - which earned him another laugh from Alec.

“It tickles!” He breathed out, catching on to the curious tilt of Magnus’ head. “Your eyelashes… they’re so long.” Alec sighed, whispering against the warlock’s lips, “I wish we could stay here, like this, forever.”

Magnus hummed in agreement before resuming his quest of mapping out Alec’s face with his lips. When he reached his mouth, Alec tried - and failed - to suppress a yawn. Magnus smiled fondly, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Let’s go to bed, hm?” He stood up and held a hand out to Alec, who followed suit, though he was still wrapped in one of the blankets. “Oh, you’re adorable.” Alec scowled, which only spurred Magnus on. After a few seconds of kisses and shared laughter, the two finally made it to the bedroom.

They undressed each other slowly, pausing for soft kisses every so often. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t heated. There was a time for sex, and a time for intimacy. They understood that tonight, they just needed the comfort of someone by their side. Magnus crawled under the sheets first, patting the open space next to him in invitation. Who was Alec to refuse such an offer?

There they lay, facing each other in Manus’ large bed, two figures curled together, whispering to each other sweet nothings. And the world was at peace, for just a little while. Be it calm before the storm, or something else entirely, they had turned the night into gentle quietness. Alec fell asleep with Magnus holding one hand, and the other tracing patterns onto his scarred and runed skin. Others may have turned away in distaste at the clear signs of battle, but to Magnus, he only saw beauty in Alec’s healed wounds. It was proof that Alec survived, that he lived, and he was here with Magnus.