#stealing socks

Unless you happen to be on the list of people I have beef with >:(

If that’s the case, not only do you NOT get a blanket, but I’m also going to steal one sock of every pair you own, leaving you to suffer in the misery of mismatched socks.

Here’s a drabble from a separate prompt list. Chairman Meow inspired!

Enjoy!

*

Magnus’ apartment was the epitome of his character. The living room was the largest where he could host whatever and however many gatherings he desired. His Christmas parties were ranked the best and always drew the attention of his jealous neighbors. The bedroom, bathroom, and additional sitting room were satisfactory. Magnus wished he could knock down the walls and push their limits if it weren’t for the people living on either side of him and the sixty-foot drop from the balcony. He made do with the space available. He could take it from the kitchen if he really wanted. It was small, albeit Magnus never used it much. He only used the counter space and table for the excessive amounts of take-out he ordered.

To keep himself and any unsuspecting neighbors spying in through the door on their toes, Magnus changed themes every month or so depending on his mood. Colors had been his primary focus and then turned to “modern chic” and “elegant”. Victorian had been one of his favorites until he found the drapes that surrounded his bed frame torn to unrecognizable scraps on the floor.

His damned cat was the only thing that threw a wrench into the entire arrangement of his space. He strutted around as though he owned the place and Magnus was merely the visitor. Chairman Meow had become the most fitting name in the list that included The Great Catsby, Purr-nest Hemingway, and Picatso. He certainly expressed his domineering character in the same manner as the actual man.

There was always something with the Chairman. He scratched at posts he didn’t like, laid on glass sculptures he did like, and despised every third bowl of food set aside for him as though it was poisoned. It was the same food Magnus has been feeding him for years. Now it appeared as though his attacks turned personal.

“I cannot find one pair of matching socks,” Magnus hissed, digging through the top drawer of his dresser for the pair he had definitely seen the day before and was now conveniently missing.

Chairman meowed from the base of the door, using the frame as a means of scratching his side. The look on his feline face could only be labeled as mischievous.

“What’d you do with it?” Magnus asked, knowing he would never get an answer. He waved around the single sock in question. “I know you did something.”

No response. Magnus sighed. He pulled out another single pair, which also should have had a twin, and compared the colors. It was a dark gray with a single black band near the foot. Magnus tossed it back into the drawer with a grunt.

He checked the watch on his wrist for the time. He was already half an hour late for his blind date. Magnus contemplated the scrutinizing sock, then glared at his now purring cat. “You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?”

The Chairman mewled, turning his behind the Magnus and stalking off to a corner he hadn’t discovered yet.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” Magnus muttered, tossing the article of clothing back in with the others.

The next afternoon Magnus returned to the comforts of his apartment. The doorman scanned him before letting him enter, as though he had never seen Magnus before in his life. He called the elevator and rode it to the top three floors of the building. It’s the best view of New York, the realtor had told him, and she wasn’t wrong. When the light was rising just over the building across the street, the living room would ignite in the golden hue of the heavens.

The elevator opened with a ding. Magnus stepped out, pulling at the loose scarf on his neck until it was freed from constricting his throat. His feet paused around the corner from his door at the sound of familiar mewling.

“You’re going to make me trip - is this it? Is this your home?”

Magnus stepped forward, the voice pulling him closer.

There was a man standing just outside his apartment door. One of his hands was wrapped around a cardboard box, a single sock sprawled over one of the sides threatening to fall over at any moment. His dark hair and angular features painted the image of him as threatening if it weren’t for the frayed olive sweatshirt with a sagging neckline telling him otherwise. Chairman was threading his nimble and lean body through the part of the man’s legs, the purring audible from the corner where Magnus was undoubtedly staring.

“Can I help you?” Magnus asked, the words caught at the back of his throat.

The man looked up, stunned. They were hazel, Magnus immediately made note of. In the quite-horrible light of the hallway, they were practically a vibrant green. “I… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’m looking for someone.”

Magnus sauntered up towards the man, sparing a quick glance into the box to confirm its contents. He recognized a bright pink sole on a sock that his best friend, Catarina, had gotten him for Valentine’s day. His socks.

He shot out his hand to the door, twisting the handle with ease and allowing the Chairman to disappear once again.

The man’s eyes widened. “Do… Do you make a habit of leaving your door unlocked?”

“Do you make it a habit to collect left socks?”

“They’re not all left,” he retorted, weakly.

Magnus pushed the door open wider to accommodate the width of bodies much larger than a feline. “Would you like to come inside,” he offered with a flourish of his hand.

The man paused, his lips kept in a terse line. “I just…” He abandoned his words and held out the box wordlessly.

Magnus looked at the box and then at Hazel Eyes. “You can put them on the counter.”

Sighing, he resigned. He stepped forward, arm and box grazing by Magnus’ skin, and entered the realm of Magnus Bane. The door clicked softly behind the pair, followed by the clunk of the box on the counter of the kitchen.

“So…”

“Alec,” the man supplied. Magnus nodded in acknowledgment.

“Where did you find him?”

Upon the vague calling of the cat in question, the Chairman appeared and laced around the man’s legs, hopping slightly to get his attention. He eventually bowed down to scratch his head before picking him up in one swoop.

“My apartment.” He brushed his thumb over the pad of fur between his eyes and the damned cat turned to putty at the touch. Traitor. “I don’t know how he finds his way in.”

“What floor do you live on?”

Alec set the cat down on the couch. The Chairman circled, dancing around for Alec’s praise and affection until he finally sat down and settled in his lap. “I actually don’t live here.”

“What?”

“I live across the street.” Alec quickly added, “We’re neighbors, technically. Same floor and everything.”

Chairman making his way across the street and up thirteen floors was at the bottom of a long list of things that surprised him nowadays. His cat had gotten into worse situations, like getting stuck behind the toilet when he first moved in, chasing pigeons around the rooftop, and stealing treats from Ms. Robinson’s patio when she lived eight floors beneath him. Being able to carry that many socks across the street did make Magnus question the abilities of his cat.

Magnus glared at the animal. He was met with a mirrored look of disapproval. What do you want with him, Magnus asked with his eyes.

Everything, a voice told him.

“I should probably go,” Alec strained, scooping the feline from his lap and depositing him onto the floor despite the whines and cries. “Thank you, though…”

Magnus walked him to the door, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t even done anything.”

“Right.”

The door opened, revealing the empty hallway a few painfully far feet away from the confines of Magnus’ apartment. Alec hesitantly stepped out into that field beyond his reach, shifting from one foot to another with a hand in his hair. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened, then settled with a pressed line of silence. He threw his thumb over his shoulder to gesture his departure, and Magnus stopped him.

“Alec, wait.” He turned, stalking to the kitchen in search of a pen. He rustled through three drawers before finding one. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, holding it in hand while asking silently, May I?

Alec immediately offered an arm, pulling the tattered fabric away to expose the gentle, pale skin beneath. Magnus kept his hand steady while elegantly printing the letters to his name and numbers to his phone. He recapped the pen, mouth inexplicably dry.

“Magnus,” Alec hummed. The sound of him testing his name sent unidentifiable shivers down his spine. Alec looked up after stroking the name sitting on his wrist.

Magnus cleared his throat, hoping it would also clear the breathlessness in his chest. “You never know if you might find some socks that aren’t yours… or something,” he added, lamely.

“Or something.” Alec grinned, lighting up his entire face. “I’ll see you around, Magnus.” And then he left.

Magnus made sure to shut the door before he slid down the hard surface to recollect his scattered thoughts. He was always sure of how to talk and act around people, flirting and charming the pants off of people, and when approached by a sudden handsome stranger in his hallway all instinct and experience is washed away, leaving nothing but a bumbling idiot.

He stood, walking to the window that faced the apartments across the street. He watched as Alec crossed the street, imagined where he was in the building on his way up, and waited for signs of movement. It was hard with the distance. Smaller details were lost to Magnus, but it was unmistakable when dark curtains drew back to reveal a tall figure waving at him.

Magnus’ phone buzzed. He opened it and read: Dinner? Friday?

Magnus chuckled, holding the phone to the dip of his bottom lip as he smiled at the figure of Alec waiting for a response. He punched in a quick three letter reply.

Remember this gem?

Because I felt like drawing a “ferret meets sock” pic again