(Post-canon, pre-epilogue snippet, where wings are suddenly a thing. Well, at least they are for Alec.)
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There is a legend amongst Shadowhunters.
A legend that says that the first nephilim - the ones originally blessed by Raziel, the ones called upon by the angel himself to defend their world against demons - were granted more than just one gift, more than the ability to use runes. A legend that speaks of nephilim fighting demons wherever they dared to trespass into their realm, whether that be on land or in the air.
A legend that says Shadowhunters used to have wings.
Most of those stories are based around the depictions in ancient tomes and paintings of Jonathan Shadowhunter with pure white wings stretching out behind him, wings and runes outlined with the golden glow of angelic energy pulsing through both. Marks so very distinct, almost like a direct counterpoint to a warlock’s mark, proclaiming him more than ordinary mundanes, setting him apart.
However, as much as their children’s stories like to make use of those images, turning the first nephilim into shining figures for their children to aspire to, everyone also knows those depictions were clearly just a way to highlight Jonathan Shadowhunter’s standing back then, the one to have had direct contact with the angel himself, to ask and personally receive Raziel’s blessing.
Sure, there are books and theories and entire treatises speculating whether those legends of old might possibly hold a kernel of truth, whether the original Shadowhunters might have truly been blessed with more than just the ability to tap into angelic energy by way of runes, whether Shadowhunters these days might simply have lost those additional gifts, possibly due to the dilution of their blood after so many generations separating them from those first nephilim. Well, the few theories arguing that the loss of those additional gifts might be a sign of Raziel’s disapproval – that he might not be entirely happy with the Clave’s decision to stray off the path laid out before them by the angel himself, disapproval of them changing their doctrine to no longer stop at hunting demons but to include anyone of demon blood as well – are of course quite unpopular in Idris. Rather unsurprisingly so.
Either way, even those amongst Shadowhunters who assume there might have been additional gifts granted to nephilim originally, still agree it certainly wasn’t actual wings, that those mentions in the old scriptures of nephilim in-flight are clearly metaphors for something else, that those stories about Shadowhunters fighting demon swarms in the air, protecting mundanes from above, are just that. Stories.
Obviously.
+++
The first time it happens, Magnus and Alec are in bed.
It’s the morning after their wedding, barely twelve hours after they promised each other forever.
In hindsight, it even seems rather fitting, seeing as the first time Alec got to see Magnus’ warlock mark had been in bed as well, when they were about to take the next step, when their relationship shifted so very significantly during their first time together. So, yes, it seems rather fitting that the first time the same thing happens to Alec would be the morning after their wedding, when their relationship had once more shifted so very recently, yet another step closer, further, the two of them together.
Then again, it’s also different as it definitely has nothing to do with him losing control in any way. To the contrary.
The first time Alec’s wings manifest - not only without his say-so but also before he even knows they are a thing at all - is while he is asleep, utterly and completely content, happy, relaxed, everything in his life absolutely perfect, every single one of his lifelong dreams having come true and his vision of the future filled with potential for how to make things even better…
Magnus is actually the one who notices them first.
Not that they are hard to miss. At all.
+++
Magnus comes awake slowly, feels himself drifting languidly towards awareness, still mostly drifting in that warm, fuzzy place between wakefulness and sleep, just awake enough to take stock of his surroundings.
He is lying on his chest, warm and comfortable, Alexander pressed along his side, spread out partially over his back, one arm wrapped around him, the other below their shared pillow, face mostly tucked against the back of Magnus’ neck, soft breaths ruffling his hair.
There is barely another instance before he can feel his lips tilting into a helpless, utterly unguarded smile, the very moment the memories of yesterday start seeping back into his barely awake mind.
Memories of their wedding, of him being married. To Alexander.
His smile widens into something luminous and broad, even as he keeps his eyes closed just a little longer, perfectly happy to stay in this half-awake place of hazy warmth and relaxed happiness. He doesn’t know how exactly they ended up in this particular position, but Magnus honestly quite likes it, likes this feeling of warmth and safety and being comfortably squished into the mattress by his husband’s still sleeping form.
He feels his lips tilting up once more at that thought.
My husband.
After all of the drama, all of the ups and down, the losses and the heartbreak and the breakups, the near-apocalyptic events and various meddling family members. After all that. Alexander is finally, irrevocably his.
Magic, I am happy.
He keeps his eyes closed as he breathes in, chest so full, heart beating in a slow, even rhythm, as he presses the slightest bit further into the warmth of Alexander’s chest. Who just shifts slightly on top of him in reaction, arm around him tightening, pulling Magnus in the slightest bit closer. If that is even possible.
Everything around them seems muffled somehow, like a barrier of sorts between them and the rest of the world, like in this moment right here it’s just the two of them. Their own little bubble of happiness.
Magnus breathes out, utterly content as he lets himself relax fully into the mattress, body going entirely pliant once more, rather ridiculously content with Alexander sleep-warm and heavy stretched out on top of him.
Yeah, he so isn’t moving. He’d actually be perfectly alright with staying right here all day if he gets a choice in the matter.
It’s not like they have anywhere to be.
They might have told everyone who would listen about this grand trip around the world they were supposedly planning for their honeymoon, claimed an itinerary of thirteen countries in total they would be visiting, so many places they were planning to see. But it had simply been a ruse, both of them wanting to ensure they will be left entirely alone. By everyone.
Something they’d never get if anyone knew they weren’t actually planning on going anywhere.
Sure, the two of them had initially discussed various potential destinations for their honeymoon, but it hadn’t taken them long to realize that neither of them was particularly into the idea of going anywhere at all.
After the stress of the past few months, all either of them wants is time to spend with just each other, no travel itinerary to keep them busy required, want to make use of this little pocket in time before the real world catches up with them once more and likely throws them headfirst into yet another catastrophe to solve the very moment they ‘return’.
So.
Instead of leaving for Paris as they had claimed they were planning last night, the moment they got home yesterday, Magnus had simply locked down the loft, sealed the wards so as to not give their presence away in any way, neither of them having any intention of leaving the loft at all, not beyond maybe going out for a romantic dinner somewhere across the globe at some point.
But that’s what portals are for.
They are both more than looking forward to spending time just with each other. Their entire plan for their honeymoon consists of lazing around in bed, having incredibly hot sex, sharing lavish dinners that Magnus can easily summon from wherever they like, and cuddling on the couch. That’s pretty much it. Just some time to spend together, enjoy each other’s presence, no interruptions, just the two of them.
And by magic is Magnus looking forward to it, actually can’t wait for the first day of their honeymoon, their first day as husbands. His heart gives another happy thump at the thought.
He is rather determined to spoil his husband absolutely rotten during their honeymoon in every conceivable way he can come up with. And he even thinks he is off to a rather great start after last night, where - once they got back from the festivities - Magnus had whisked his newly minted husband away to the hot tub he had magicked onto the roof as a surprise.
By the end of it, Alexander had been so beautifully yielding, so breathtaking in his willingness to indulge, to entirely cede control, utterly pliant in Magnus’ hands, the mere memory still has molten heat shivering through his veins.
Yes, that hot tub is definitely staying up there for a while longer. At the very least for the duration of their honeymoon. Possibly forever.
He feels his smile widen into a salacious grin as he finally blinks his eyes open lazily, ready to greet a new day of nothing but him and Alexander spending time with each other, on each other, together.
Magnus pauses. Blinks. Frowns slightly in confusion. Because, it’s still dark out?
That’s odd. According to his internal clock it should be morning at the very least, if not moving towards noon already. He blinks some more. Then again, it’s not entirely dark, the lighting around him just muted somehow.
He frowns, eyes still slightly bleary from sleep.
Ah, there is something in front of his face, shutting out the light…
Magnus squints. Because… What he is seeing makes very little sense. If any at all.
There are feathers spread out over him, barely a hand’s width or two away from his face. Not like, a pile of feathers. But as in, a blanket of them, orderly layers of them.
Magnus squints some more, lifts his head a little from the pillow to see better as his eyes finally adjust a little.
It looks… almost like wings?
There is a grumble above him, Alexander apparently not all that happy at Magnus daring to move even the slightest bit, face tucking fully against the back of Magnus’ neck as Alexander shifts slightly.
The feathers move with him. They brush softly against Magnus’ side where he isn’t entirely buried underneath his husband’s body.
Soft, he thinks dazedly, brain still not having entirely caught up with what he is seeing. So so soft.
He reaches out with his free hand, can’t help it, honestly mesmerized as he runs his fingers ever-so-gently along the feather blanket spread out over him. At the touch, Alexander shudders slightly atop him and Magnus can feel his eyelashes brushing against the skin of his neck as his husband starts blinking awake as well.
“Alexander?” he asks carefully.
A moment, then an arm tightening slightly around him, “Hm?” his husband hums vaguely, apparently not quite ready to leave their little warm bubble behind either.
“Not to alarm you, darling,” Magnus starts carefully, though not at all surprised when those words have the opposite effect, can feel Alexander’s body immediately tensing as he comes more alert, lashes brushing against the back of his neck rather rapidly now. He still continues, “But… since when have you had wings?”
The Shadowhunter shifts, clearly well on his way towards being fully awake but bleary confusion in his voice as he starts, “Magn-“
A pause.
And then Alexander is scrambling upright.
The wings fluidly shift with him.
“What the-,” he is asking, voice still scratchy from sleep but tone entirely alert after apparently noticing his new appendages as well.
Magnus immediately sits up with him, turns around to be able to see better. And promptly finds himself staring rather helplessly.
Gorgeous, he thinks a little breathlessly.
Because there are indeed wings spreading out behind Alexander. Wings of pure white, oh-so-soft feathers, wings so pristine, they almost seem to glow a little in the muted lighting of the bedroom, the soft sunlight coming through the blinds casting a soft golden shimmer over the individual feathers.
Magnus tilts his head slightly. Or is the golden shimmer coming from the wings themselves?
They are also huge, likely about as tall as Alexander himself, even if it’s rather hard to tell while they are still on the bed, sitting amongst the covers.
In front of him, Alexander shifts, his eyes still wide. There is something about the way the wings are moving with him, flaring out behind him as he sits up, before one tucks itself neatly against his back, the other stretching forward for Alexander to stare at instead of making him twist around in order to see them, but all the while avoiding any obstacles in their way, smoothly brushing aside the covers that had partially been covering them, neither knocking into the bedside table or into Magnus himself despite how close he is sitting. There is nothing awkward about it at all.
Like their movement is utterly natural, instinctual to Alexander. Like they have always been a part of him.
Though, Alexander’s wide-eyed staring makes it rather clear that he himself has in fact not been aware of their presence at all.
It’s that obvious shock on the Shadowhunter’s face that also has Magnus promptly switching tracks, skipping right past any of the hundred questions currently running through his head, far more interested in reassuring Alexander than getting any answers right now.
Most importantly, his magic is telling him these wings are as much a part of Alexander as any of his other limbs, doesn’t differentiate between him and his wings at all, so Magnus at least isn’t worried about anything nefarious being at play right now.
They can figure out everything else later on, when Alexander doesn’t look like he might be about to panic any longer.
So, instead of so much as commenting on the wings that have seemingly sprouted from his husband’s back over night, he instead goes for the obvious choice of pretending like nothing is wrong at all.
“Good morning, love,” he smiles instead, lets his eyes focus entirely on Alexander’s, reaches out to rest a hand against the side of his face, before he leans in for a soft good morning kiss.
It’s not because he wants to appear dismissive but because he knows that far better than reassuring Alexander with words that everything is going to be alright, is to do so with actions. After the many actual, sometimes-near-apocalyptic crises they’ve managed to get through together already, Alexander has proven more than once that he can simply tell whenever Magnus is just pretending calm for someone else’s sake or whether he is truly unconcerned by whatever is happening.
And, as expected, there is barely a second delay before Alexander is returning the kiss, relaxing the slightest bit as he does so. Magnus lets himself linger in his space a little before he finally pulls back again to meet his husband’s still slightly widened eyes.
Magnus waits another beat. And then can’t help but add on cheerfully, teasingly, as he glances once more at the wings stretching above his husband’s shoulder, “Never a dull moment with you, darling,” eyes crinkling in the corners with his smile.
Alexander just watches him right back, raising his eyebrows in fond exasperation at his utter nonchalance, but the worst of his tension already bleeding out of his shoulders once more, his eyes full of that adoring warmth that still makes Magnus’ breath catch every time he sees it.
By magic, I am so very much in love with this man.
Alec can feel some of his shock abating, the adrenaline that had spiked through him just moments ago already lessening. He is fully aware that it’s in direct reaction to Magnus’ obvious calm, the reassurance of it almost instinctively calming to him at this point.
If Magnus is calm, then he knows he doesn’t have to truly worry. At least not about himself. Magnus is never entirely calm if there is even the slightest danger to Alec anywhere to be seen.
Although… Wings? Seriously?
Then again, after everything they’ve been through recently, a couple of new appendages - no matter how strange or sudden - doesn’t even rank within the top ten most shocking things to happen to them just this past week alone, let alone the past few months. Case in point, just this week they fought off a demon invasion threatening the world order, got rid of two Greater Demons between the two of them, and destroyed an entire realm of hell while they were at it. So, Alec suddenly sprouting wings seems almost negligible in comparison.
He honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or simply sigh in exasperation at the utter ridiculousness that is his life these days.
On the other hand, said ridiculousness also includes him having gotten married against all possible odds to the love of his life just yesterday.
Alec can’t help the smile he feels forming on his face at that thought, meets Magnus’ eyes, leans in for another kiss. He simply can’t help it. This newest bit of insanity aside, there is utter happiness pulsing through him at the reminder that they actually got married yesterday, that Magnus is his husband, that he is Alec’s.
“Morning,” he finally returns, spoken softly against Magnus’ lips, heart full to bursting at seeing his own happiness perfectly mirrored in his husband’s eyes.
Husband.
His lips tilt up even further as he leans in for another soft kiss.
Yeah, his newly sprouted limbs absolutely take a backseat to this. They can always worry about that later on. Once they actually deign to get up.
Instead, Alec just lets himself tilt slightly forwards, rests his forehead against Magnus’ shoulder, basking in this moment, their first morning as husbands, instead of bothering to figure out whether he should be feeling exasperated or possibly intrigued or simply resigned at yet something else happening to them.
He can feel the smile on Magnus’ lips as he presses a gentle kiss against Alec’s temple, his hand coming up to softly run through his hair at the back of his head.
“They are gorgeous, darling,” Magnus then breathes against his skin.
Alec just feels himself relax a little further at that bit of additional reassurance, lets himself lean more heavily into the warlock as he tilts his head slightly to press a gentle kiss just below Magnus’ collarbone, right on top of the mark his teeth had left there in the hot tub last night, lips quirking up as he feels Magnus shiver in reaction to the renewed sensation.
Then, Magnus shifts, lets himself fall backwards onto the mattress behind him, softly tugging Alec to lie down with him. He goes easily, happy to once more spread out mostly on top of his husband, this time chest to chest, his wings fluidly flaring out behind him.
Sure, it’s admittedly a little weird. But mostly because the wings don’t actually feel weird at all. To the contrary. Somehow, they don’t feel new or different or in any way notable, really. But rather they feel like they have always been there, just like his arms, something he knows is there but doesn’t have to actually think about, their movement fluid and instinctual without him having to consciously make them obey, instead moving with him exactly how he wants them to. Like they have always been a part of him.
Maybe that’s the reason why he is staying so utterly calm right now. Because nothing about this actually feels all that different.
“May I…?” Magnus is asking, one of his hands lifted slightly in Alec’s line of sight, hovering close to one of the wings currently spread out over both of them yet, but his eyes on Alec’s face, clearly wanting to touch, but not actually reaching out before he has made sure that he is actually okay with it.
He just nods easily, casually. Like there is ever any chance of me not being okay with Magnus touching me.
Though, at the first touch of Magnus’ fingers, softly brushing along the outside of his wing, Alec thinks he might have to revise that statement a little. Because, just ‘being okay’ with Magnus touching his wings so absolutely doesn’t cover it.
Even that gentle touch has Alec shivering slightly. Turns out, the wings are sensitive. Rather ridiculously so.
Another pass of Magnus’ fingers, a little firmer this time, and Alec almost gasps at the feeling, a full-body shiver running through him. And going by the definite smile he can see spreading over the warlock’s face as he watches Alec, eyes intent on his expression as he continues to softly run his fingers over the wing, he seems rather delighted at this particular discovery.
Then again, Alec is just fine with that.
Magnus has always taken perfect care with even the softest, the most vulnerable parts of Alec, guarding them with a sort of unapologetic ferocity that would sooner have him rip anything trying to get close to pieces than risk letting anyone do any actual harm to him. Alec is sure these new wings of his will be no different. To the contrary. His wings are actually in the best hands possible right now.
So, he lets himself sink even more pliantly onto Magnus’ chest, head on his husband’s chest, their legs intertwined, his wings spread out on either side of them, quivering slightly with Alec’s next shiver as Magnus drags his fingers ever-so-slightly-deeper but still so very gently through the topmost layer of feathers.
And so what if he can maybe see how his new wings appear to be coming aglow with a soft golden light around their edges the more Alec himself relaxes.
For now, he just ignores the implications of it all, wanting nothing beyond just another few minutes of cuddling with his husband in bed.
(Ragnor almost dies, and Magnus decides he’s quite simply had it with Valentine and his little band of genocidal bootlickers. AU of 1x12)
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The portal closes behind the two Shadowhunters, but Magnus doesn’t spare their departure any attention.
It’s just him and Ragnor now in the front room of his friend’s house, Magnus kneeling beside his little cabbage on the floor, desolation in his heart.
His best friend is in front of him, a gaping wound in his throat, heart barely beating any longer, magic sluggish, slowing, dwindling, not even his powers enough to keep him here, to heal him, the last thread connecting Ragnor to this life rapidly fading, his spirit barely holding on.
Magnus can feel it, can feel his magic dissipating, his life force dulling, losing itself to the void from where there is no coming back.
And, no. Just. No.
Magnus refuses to lose Ragnor, his little cabbage, his best friend, his brother in all but blood.
He just won’t.
Magnus clenches his teeth.
No matter what.
He reaches for his magic, feels it gathering around him, focusing around his hands, tendrils of it coiling in between his fingers, around his wrists, up his arms, glowing a brilliant blue as he settles a hand on Ragnor’s chest, almost blindingly bright from the sheer amount of magic he is gathering around himself, lets it bleed into Ragnor, lets it infuse his friend’s very veins, uses it to keep Ragnor’s blood circling, his heart pumping, his lungs inflating, forces his body to hold on. He pulls at his friend’s magic, keeps the thread connecting his friend to this life steady, forces the connection to remain, uses his own magic to keep him here. Just a little longer.
It’s magical CPR, won’t do anything to heal the wound in Ragnor’s neck, nothing beyond buying Magnus some time. But time is all he needs.
Time and power.
If Ragnor’s magic isn’t enough to keep him here, if Magnus’ magic isn’t enough to save his little cabbage, then he’ll just need more. More power, more strength, more magic. Enough to save his oldest friend. Even if that means doing something he wouldn’t have considered doing even just minutes ago, something he swore to himself he wouldn’t ever do again.
But he isn’t losing his little cabbage. He just isn’t.
And with Ragnor stabilized for just a little longer, Magnus reaches deep, reaches within himself, into his core, reaches past that, reaches for the magic he swore so long ago never to touch again.
His father’s gifts, power beyond that which any ordinary warlock should be able to carry within themselves. Well, at least warlocks who aren’t sired by one of the original Greater Demons.
It’s been centuries since Magnus tapped into that part of his powers, since he so much as touched it, locked it away after he got away from Asmodeus and swore off everything he learned under his father’s tutelage. It’s vast and powerful and hidden so deeply within itself it is barely there anymore, barely part of himself, surrounded by walls he himself built, made of denial and abhorrence and simple refusal, cut off and almost unreachable, almost inaccessible. Almost.
But pure desperation drives him, desperation for more power, the power to save Ragnor, intermixed with the all-encompassing fury at someone daring to try taking him from Magnus.
Magnus reaches deeper, into that vast well of power inside himself that is heatpowerdestructionwrath, always there, even if rarely acknowledged.
There is a brief moment of delay, that part of himself so very unused to being called upon, just an instant of breathless stillness.
Then it jumps to his call, eagerly, wildly, ecstatically, suffusing the air around him, making him breathe in sharply, primal power flooding his veins, the ice-blue glow of his magic bleeding purple, then a brilliant blood-red, menacing and blindingly bright, a vortex of power building inside of him, unrestrained will and all-consuming calamity, chaos in its very nature.
A Greater Demon’s powers, passed on to his oldest son, the one trained personally by the ruler of Edom himself, Asmodeus’ heir apparent. Powers fed by the fires of hell itself, destruction given physical form, drawing on wrath and desperation and fury.
And right now, Magnus got those in spades.
He reaches even deeper, pulls it out, coaxes it, feels his surroundings heat up with the sheer amount of power emitting from himself, like a heat haze swirling around him, permeating the air. He ignores the smoke rising from his own form, the carpet he is kneeling on smoldering, scorching, burning away from beneath him.
He pays it no mind, lets his power saturate the air surrounding him, the room, the house, everything, more and more and more, draws it out, feeds it into the world around him.
Until his power is everything and reality is what he makes it.
+++
Magnus steps towards the portal he just cast in the middle of the loft’s living room, mind already on what he is planning to do next.
“I would say ‘don’t do anything stupid’,” Ragnor is speaking up from behind him, calling his attention, voice slightly raspy but tone jovial where he is relaxing back in one of Magnus’ armchairs, watching him. “But we both know it wouldn’t be of any use.”
Magnus quirks a slight smile at his friend, power buzzing under his skin, barely held back, pulling at him, wanting to be let out, to destroy, to tear apart, to make sure nothing and no one will ever dare go after theirs again.
Sure, the relief of seeing Ragnor alive and well and perfectly safe under Magnus’ wards, does calm some of that all-encompassing fury still pulsing red-hot in his veins. But the ghastly scar on the side of his neck – where Magnus’ more or less burned away the wound that almost cost Ragnor his life – still serves as a very effective reminder that he did almost lose his friend.
A reminder that is sadly also there to say, seeing as demonic powers just aren’t suited for healing in the traditional sense, at their very core destruction to contrast the angels’ powers of creation. And Magnus bending reality to his will, simply willing the wound away, still left its mark, left a scar, unavoidable due to the nature of the powers he used to save his friend’s life.
Then again, Ragnor seems unbothered. According to him, a scar is a small price to pay for getting to keep his life. And also, all the better to guilt Magnus into pampering him back to health.
Though, Ragnor promptly seemed far less enthused about it all when Magnus had taken that as tacit permission to drag his friend to his loft for his recovery, unwilling to let Ragnor stay at his house while the wards might still be compromised after the demon attack. Not to even mention that Magnus might have unintentionally torched quite a bit of Ragnor’s living room before he finally managed to rein his powers fully back in.
Which, however, brings them here.
Because Magnus also just isn’t done yet.
His magic is humming beneath his skin, demanding recompense for the harm done to one of theirs, demanding vengeance. And for once in his life, Magnus is entirely inclined to follow its rather vengeful leanings.
Because Ragnor is alive, yes – and thank magic for that – but that in no way changes the fact that Ragnor almost died, that someone dared to send a couple of demon critters to kill his little cabbage. The fact that they almost succeeded.
No, Magnus isn’t done yet at all.
His magic buzzes in excitement, eager and bright and unforgiving, delighted at the mayhem to come.
And usually he’d try to lock it away again, try to push it back down, to seal away these powers once more, vast and inescapable and all-encompassing as they are. But, not this time.
It seems like people might need a reminder of just how bad of an idea it is to go after those Magnus holds dear, the fact that he has never had a limit on what he is willing to do for those he calls his, what he’d do to protect them, to keep them safe. And it seems people have forgotten just what that means.
It’s a lesson he is perfectly willing to once more teach the Shadowworld in general and the Circle in particular. In detail. And with enthusiasm.
“You stay here and recover,” Magnus finally replies to Ragnor’s comment, before he lets his lips quirk up, into something bright and dangerous and vicious, “I’ll be right back.”
Ragnor grins right back, smile just as bright and far more vindictive than Magnus’ own. “Hm,” he hums. “I’d even join you if I weren’t still so high on your powers.” He lifts his hand, the blood-red magic of Magnus’ darker side sparking wildly, uncontrollably between Ragnor’s fingertips, magic that is still left over from Magnus practically shoving it into his friend’s system to save him.
It will take at least a day or so for Ragnor’s magic to once more stabilize itself, to reassert itself over the remainders of Magnus’ magic in his system, possibly longer considering the sheer amount of power Magnus forced into him.
Ragnor grins sardonically, “As it is, I am more likely to set myself on fire if I were to try and join you right now.”
Magnus huffs a laugh. Seeing Ragnor so clearly fine and already back to his particular brand of sardonic humor has his heart lighten, chest tight with utter relief.
They might not see each other all that often these days, hadn’t really spoken for a decade or so before today. But, then again, what’s a couple of decades between warlocks? Thing is, no matter how long they might go without seeing each other, without even speaking, there has still always that knowledge at the back of Magnus’ mind that there is at least one person in this world who will always be on his side, who will always come to his aid if he ever asks for it, somewhere in this world where he will always be welcome. And losing that, losing Ragnor, is just utterly unfathomable to him.
Which brings him right back here.
“Well, if you can, leave a piece or two for me,” Ragnor says as he stretches luxuriously in his armchair, lips tilted into something wonderfully vindictive, “Until then, give them hell from me.”
The smile Magnus can feel spreading over his own face at that has far too many teeth to be called anything even remotely friendly. “Oh, I will,” he says as, finally stepping towards the portal. “Quite literally.”
+++
Magnus goes hunting.
He wants Valentine. Valentine who sent demons to kill Ragnor. Valentine who dared going after his little cabbage. Valentine who - in his own overinflated sense of self - forgot that, in this world full of immortal beings born of ancient magic and primordial power, one really should take care to choose their opponents wisely.
Because Magnus is simply done. Done with the Circle, done with trying to play by the Clave’s rules, done trying to keep the Downworld settled within itself, done trying to keep the peace. Not if ‘keeping the peace’ always seems to be at the Downworld’s expense, not if it means that more and more Downworlders die at the Circle’s swords while the Clave does nothing at all to stop them, if anything only ever imposing more restrictions upon the Downworld while the murderers of their brethren walk free.
His magic sparks between his fingers, delighted and bright and vindictive.
Valentine has been raining terror onto the Downworld for decades and the Clave still hasn’t gotten around to actually doing something about it. So now, Magnus will be doing it for them.
And he’d really like to see anyone try and stop him.
+++
Finding some random Circle members to start his search with is easy.
They are like cockroaches. You just have to seek out the deepest, darkest, nastiest corner of any city and you’re sure to come across a few of Circle members scuttling about in the dark.
Magnus hunts.
It quickly turns out that Valentine isn’t actually in New York, not anymore, had either already left when Magnus started looking for him or fled the city as soon as he heard about his search. No matter. He has all the time in the world to hunt the man down and why not just clean up his own city while he’s at it.
From today onwards, Circle activity will no longer be tolerated within New York City, there will be no more leniency for any Circle members daring to walk into his city, no matter what the Clave may have to say about Magnus simply cleaning the Circle out and keeping them out in the future.
So, even with Valentine having left his city, Magnus still makes use of the information he gleans from the Circle members he comes across, tears through every single one of their hideouts in New York.
Which is also how he finds Dot, held in a cage, captive on a ship in New York’s harbor.
Magnus’ fury reaches new heights.
She has been experimented on, has been made a specimen for Valentine’s twisted experiments. And she isn’t even the only Downworlder there.
Magnus calls Luke, calls Raphael, lets them know about the by-then-entirely-cleared-of-Circle-members ship in their harbor, so they can come and take care of their own, who are being held here. He takes Dot home to his loft, sticks her in the armchair opposite Ragnor’s, calls Cat to take care of them both.
And as soon as she arrives, Magnus goes back to his hunt, his wrath a living, breathing thing in his chest, magic coiling blood-red around him, dark and merciless and malignant.
He follows Valentine’s trail along the East Coast, tears apart the scattered and wide-spread, but-not-all-that-numerous hideouts he finds along the way, digs out the information he needs from the minds of any Circle members he comes across, any hesitation, any mercy he might have felt for them when he started his hunt now simply gone, having disappeared the moment he found yet another of his friends being held by Valentine, used as a test subject for the man’s fucked up experiments.
Valentine’s trail leads him to Asia, then Europe, and Magnus continues to rip through the Circle’s lairs, his magic never running low, instead glowing ever-brighter, rejoicing in the destruction, feeding on the mayhem, the unrestrained chaos they are producing.
The ship in New York is in no way the worst of what Magnus comes across along the way.
Downworlders and even mundanes being held captive, stripped of their humanity, hunted, taunted, tortured, turned into entertainment, into something of a sport. Warlocks young and old alike, drained of their magic, their warlock marks cut from their skin and displayed along the walls like hunting trophies. Vampires in cages or chained down, exposed to just enough sunlight to have them slowly burning for days, until starvation and pain and terror finally claims the last of their strength. Werewolves driven feral, until they lose themselves, until they rip themselves or their own packs apart. Seelies turned into little more than mere shells of themselves, their connection to the earth cut, fading, their deaths agonizing and slow. So many dead, mutilated bodies it is honestly staggering.
Even Magnus hadn’t quite imagined the true horrors he’d come across while tearing through the Circle’s lairs, and he already knows that some of the images of the things he finds in the dark corners of various cities around the globe will haunt him for decades to come.
Magnus may be a big advocator of giving second chances, but he has never been one for doling out mercy indiscriminately. And where the Circle is concerned, he simply has no more mercy to give.
Whenever he cleans out another hideout, he informs the local Downworld leaders of whatever city he is in, leaves it to them to take care of their own and to clean out the few stragglers that might remain of the Circle in their cities in the aftermath, as he himself continues on his search, urged on by his desire to finally put an end to it all.
He doesn’t stay alone for long.
By the second day of his hunt around the globe, Ragnor – his magic sufficiently stabilized once more – has joined him, as have a few High Warlocks from other cities and a couple of the older, more powerful vampires, all of them deciding to silently add themselves to his hunting party.
Magnus is glad for the company.
It’s a bloody few days, death following their every step. But now that he has started this, has dug up the horrors being committed in the name of race supremacy – being committed against his own but only ever against those not powerful enough to defend themselves – Magnus can’t make himself stop, can’t leave it half-finished, knows that if he were to stop now the Circle would simply be reborn from the ashes left behind.
Thankfully, he isn’t alone in that. To the contrary.
The Downworld as a whole seems determined to join in on getting rid of the Circle once and for all. By the end of the second day, most cities they appear in on their still very much Valentine-focused hunt have already started their own clean-ups by the time they ever get there, the various local Downworld factions having haphazardly banded together and are now deliberately going after any Circle activity they can find in their city.
Magnus approves.
Even more so since everyone is also smart enough not to so much as touch any non-Circle Shadowhunters.
Because if they did, the Clave would promptly get itself involved. Which would truly mean war this time around. The Downworld has fully mobilized at this point and, unlike last time, they are not going to let themselves be placated into leaving the punishment of the Circle to the Clave. They already tried that once. And look where that got them.
Thankfully, for all their supremacist rhetoric, the Clave wants to avoid all-out war with the Downworld as much as they themselves do.
So, as long as they stick to exclusively taking out Valentine’s zealots, avoid giving any of the more extreme Clave members a platform from which to demand retaliation, the Clave will likely just continue pretending not to notice what’s going on. It suits everyone just fine.
There is a moment when Magnus and his group are about to collectively step through another set of portals – this time leading from Bangkok to Moskow, sometime between day two and day three of ‘The Clean-Up’, as they’ve started calling it – where Magnus finds himself unexpectedly thinking of Alexander.
Well, maybe not so unexpectedly, seeing as the lovely Shadowhunter has been occupying his thoughts pretty much ever since he first laid eyes on him.
Alexander who is still in New York, the lovely, dedicated, adorable Shadowhunter who Magnus has felt so drawn to since they first met, who he hasn’t been able to get out of his head ever since their first introductions that day at his loft, taking out a Circle member, turning and seeing the gorgeous Shadowhunter standing in the doorway behind him. Magnus has been utterly caught ever since seeing that bashful but endearingly pleased smile on Alexander’s face, barely a few seconds, so clearly surprised at having Magnus’ attention at all, Alexander’s guard down in a way Magnus hasn’t seen from him since.
Alexander who Magnus had so hoped he might be able to have a chance with.
Alexander who is, however, getting married to someone else today.
Magnus almost wants to sigh at the thought.
He tried, he truly did, had put all his cards on the table. But Alexander still chose differently.
Magnus can’t even begrudge him his choice, if anything he honestly admires Alexander’s dedication to his duties, rather adores his devotion to those dear to him, Alexander’s loyalty to his family endlessly attractive to Magnus. Which doesn’t change the fact that Magnus had still hoped for some last-minute miracle possibly giving him a chance with the lovely Shadowhunter after all.
Magnus makes himself push the thought away, forces his focus back on the task at hand as he finally follows the others through the portal to yet another country.
He tried. And the choice had always been Alexander’s.
+++
Valentine makes his stand in an old church somewhere in the south of Italy, a large group of his Circle gathered around him.
It’s the third day of Magnus’ search and a few more Downworlders have silently added themselves to his hunting party along the way. It’s still only vampires so ancient even Magnus can’t guess at their age and the sort of casually truly powerful warlocks that are so very rare even for their race, mostly because they seem to be the only ones able to bear the oppressive, all-encompassing, vicious magic that Magnus is constantly radiating for any extended amount of time.
Point is, Valentine’s gathered group is rather laughably outmatched, not much of a hindrance at all, neither to Magnus, nor to the group of Downworlders around him.
When only Valentine himself is left, Magnus pauses for barely a moment.
“You should have known better than to go after those who are mine,” he says calmly, magic coiling blood-red and malicious around him, the air heavy with it, bright sparks of unrestrained power crackling along its winding coils, jumping between his fingertips.
Valentine doesn’t say anything in reply, probably knows it won’t change anything at this point. He just lifts his sword, lips twisted in disgust, eyes alight with terror.
It is over within seconds.
To his credit, Valentine doesn’t beg for mercy, not even right before his end. It wouldn’t have made a difference to Magnus either way.
Valentine forfeited any second chances life might still have allotted him, the very moment he dared to go after those Magnus calls his.
+++ +++
Like everyone else in Idris or at the Institutes around the world, Alec and his family only hear about the end of the Circle when things are already well underway.
By then, Magnus Bane has already left New York behind – has torn through all of Valentine’s footholds in their city – and has finished cleaning up most of the East coast, having moved on to Asia at that point, already on his second day of tearing through the Circle’s forces.
No one knows what set him off, but it quickly becomes clear that New York’s High Warlock is very deliberately going after the Circle, and based on the rather random pattern of his appearances in various cities around the globe, seems to be specifically looking for something. Or someone.
No one so much as doubts that it’s Valentine himself Magnus is hunting. Even if no one can quite figure out why.
However, once the Clave finally realizes what is happening, things quickly descend into chaos.
Especially once the rest of the Downworld decides to throw in their lot with New York’s High Warlock, seeming to take Magnus’ attack on the Circle as a sort of signal to join him in going after Valentine’s people, collectively just done with letting themselves be hunted in turn.
Not one of them cares to ask the Clave for permission.
Alec doesn’t even blame them. The Clave had decades to take care of Valentine but was happy to leave things as they were, only ever concerned with doing just enough to appease the Downworld into not declaring all-out war against them, but never bothering to take action beyond that. They didn’t care what Valentine got up to in the meantime, left him to build up his forces, never even bothered to investigate the many suspicious Downworlder disappearances over the years.
Honestly, anyone with half a brain has been perfectly aware that it has only ever been a question of time before either the Circle achieved its goal of worldwide Downworlder elimination or until the Downworld simply had enough and decided to make their stand.
It seems the latter came true.
So, for anyone to be acting all surprised at the Downworld’s ‘sudden’ retaliation now, speaks either of a catastrophic lack of awareness or a truly breathtaking level of stupidity.
If anything, Alec thinks they should be grateful that Magnus and the rest of the Downworld are keeping their ire so solely focused on only Circle members. And the Clave clearly agrees, seeing as they promptly – and of course ‘coincidentally’ – order all Shadowhunters back to the Institutes or to Idris, missions being suspended for the moment. The ‘do not interfere’ order is never actually given, but the sentiment is still pretty damn clear.
However, uncertain how the situation might yet develop, all Institutes also immediately start battening down the hatches, trying to reinforce their defenses, preparing themselves for a possible attack from the Downworld. Just in case.
Load of good that is going to do us while going up against the very warlocks who cast the wards protecting our Institutes, Alec thinks sardonically even as he initiates the lockdown of the New York Institute.
Then again, he also isn’t really worried. Not if the Clave’s main worry is whether Magnus might be planning to start murdering his way through the Shadowhunter Institutes around the globe once he is done with the Circle.
Magnus might currently be putting the fear of magic into the Clave as a whole, but the mere idea of him coming after Shadowhunters in general ‘just because’ seems honestly laughable to Alec. The one thing he knows Magnus very much isn’t is hateful or heartless. To the contrary. Alec has never met anyone with a heart and mind quite as open as Magnus’.
No, if Magnus is hunting Valentine then he likely has a good reason.
I mean, it’s Valentine. That alone should be reason enough, he thinks with an inward shrug.
So, yes, Alec isn’t really all that worried.
Actually, he is in a rather good mood, as much as he tries not to make that too obvious to everyone else, seeing as they are currently in a sort-of-crisis, the balance of their world shifting into something new.
He still can’t help it.
His good mood mostly stems from the fact that, in the middle of this entire mess, Alec and Lydia’s wedding got postponed, on the day of, no less. Simply because no one has time for festivities right now.
However, the intense, utter, breathless relief that immediately rushed through Alec at the news that his wedding wouldn’t be taking place, the fact that he was so fervently grateful for a worldwide crisis – a crisis with the definite potential of turning into all-out war between the factions of the Shadowworld – just because it gave him an excuse to delay getting married… It finally had Alec acknowledge some truths about himself that he had always pushed down, pushed aside, pushed away until then.
Well, at least he acknowledged them to himself. And to Lydia. Because she deserved that much at least.
He went to talk to her, was entirely honest about everything.
Lydia had just smiled, told him he deserves to be happy, thanked him for not leaving her at the altar, and then promptly asserted that she still expects him to fight for the position of Institute Heads right beside her, whether they are actually getting married or not.
Alec had let his lips tilt into a grin, nodded, and said he’d get right on it as soon as this current crisis is solved. She had grinned back. Which had apparently been that.
They agreed to let their engagement simply fade out of everyone’s mind, not to make a big thing of it, decided to just not set a new date for their wedding now that it had already been postponed.
Alec can finally breathe again.
There is a part of him that is honestly tempted to just call Magnus. Call and ask what’s going on, maybe ask whether something happened to make him start going after the Circle so very viciously and so very effectively. Ask whether he maybe needs some help with that.
And while he’s at it, Alec could then also possibly mention the fact that he isn’t getting married anymore, that he doesn’t intend to get married to anyone in the near future. Well, at least not in the very near future, and not to a woman, and most certainly not for any political reasons. You know, just casually mention his broken off engagement in conversation. Offhandedly. As small talk. Which Alec has been reliably informed, people supposedly do.
So what if there is a worldwide crisis going on and instead of considering said crisis Alec is mainly preoccupied with contemplating whether it would be weird if he gave Magnus a call or not…
Well, I certainly got my priorities in order, don’t I? Alec thinks sardonically.
+++
Alec and every single other Shadowhunter around the world continue to watch as the situation unfolds further, watch as more and more Downworlders join the hunt for the Circle, as reports of never-seen-before magic - tearing through wards, tearing through people - start coming in, as never-heard-of-before, ridiculously powerful warlocks come wandering out of the Labyrinth, as supposedly-dead-for-a-couple-of-centuries vampires make sudden reappearances from angel-only-knows-where.
Thing is, with how Magnus Bane had torn through Valentine’s forces as though they were no obstacle to him at all right from the start, before anyone ever joined up with him, even then the Clave hadn’t quite dared to step in his way, no matter how much it irks them to see a Downworlder enact justice against nephilim – disavowed as Valentine and his followers may be – something they have always demanded be left to them until now.
So now that an entire group of truly powerful Downworlders has formed around New York’s High Warlock, now that the entire Downworld seems so intent on doing their part in cleaning out the Circle, the Clave doesn’t even pretend to be contemplating stepping in any longer.
They don’t want war, and they most certainly don’t want to start a war while the Downworld is already fully mobilized. Thankfully, going by the way the Downworld seems to be rather explicitly avoiding going after any Clave-loyal Shadowhunters, clearly they are on the same page.
Everyone is glad for it.
Because war would be a bloodbath on all sides, while solving absolutely nothing. Shadowhunters and Downworlders would die by the hundreds, by the thousands, until only the truly powerful and those hiding themselves away in their individual realms or in Idris would remain. Nothing whatsoever would actually change.
So, no. No one wants a war.
Although, the one question that does remain is just what could have possibly set Magnus Bane – the clear instigator of the current worldwide upheaval – off in the first place. Whether it’s something they should specifically avoid repeating, lest they unintentionally set him off again in the future.
All they know is that Magnus Bane started taking down the Circle in New York, and that, within hours, the Downworld decided to join him in the endeavor, clearly taking the opportunity of one of the truly powerful Downworlders finally having enough, collectively joining his campaign of ridding the world of the festering cancer that is Valentine and his Circle.
They all wonder, even if no one quite dares demand answer yet.
Well, they wonder, right until Jace mentions rather offhandedly that, oh, maybe it might have something to do with the death of Magnus’ friend that he and Clary witnessed.
Which is the first time Alec hears about the fact that Ragnor Fell - who Clary, Jace, and Magnus had sought out for his help with waking Jocelyn - apparently died three days ago, killed by demons that had been sent to follow the three of them to Fell’s residence.
Meaning not only that there is a traitor amongst them who tipped Valentine off about their plans to visit Ragnor Fell at all, but also that his parabatai has known all along what might have been behind Magnus going after Valentine at all. He apparently kept it to himself because he is convinced that Lydia is the traitor who told Valentine.
Alec honestly just wants to smack his parabatai.
He immediately turns right around and informs the Clave, tells them that there is every chance that this is simply personal vengeance being enacted, that Valentine made the mistake to go after the wrong warlock and that Magnus is now hunting the man who killed one of his oldest friends, that he likely doesn’t have any intention of going after anyone who wasn’t involved in his friend’s death.
Every Shadowhunter worldwide breathes a cautious sigh of relief at that.
Alec can even admit there is something about that, something about Magnus’ fury at someone going after one of his friends, something about him apparently being willing to tear the world apart in retaliation. There is just something about that sort of devotion that has Alec feeling rather…
He blinks. Makes himself focus.
Yeah, not going there.
At least not now. Not yet.
+++
Valentine finally dies somewhere in Europe.
The Downworld rejoices, most Shadowhunters breathe a sigh of relief, they themselves having gotten rather sick of the Circle and the messes they kept creating for everyone else to deal with, and the Clave watches suspiciously what Magnus Bane and the group of rather powerful Downworlders that has formed around him might do next.
The ease with which they have been wiping the Circle off the map has been making the higher-ups in the Clave more than a little twitchy, and now that even Valentine, supposedly one of the Clave’s best before he went down the path of zealous insanity, has been taken out... Then again, racial supremacy is so very hard to insist upon when even your strongest fighters keep dropping like flies.
All the while, the remainders of the Circle panic.
Alec’s assertion about Magnus not going after anyone other than Circle members is confirmed quickly, when New York’s High Warlock simply returns home soon after, apparently content with having cleaned up his city and with having cut off the snake’s head. However, the rest of the Downworld keeps going after whatever remains of the Circle in their various cities.
Magnus Bane started it, the rest of the Downworld finishes it in their own corners of the world.
By the time Magnus Bane returns to New York, Circle members have already started giving themselves up to the Clave in a desperate bid for their lives, trying to escape the wrath of the Downworlders suddenly hunting them so mercilessly.
The tables have turned.
There is no safe place for Circle members anymore, no place to hide, nowhere to stay safe. Whatever remains of the Circle scrambles for safety, even if that means a life-time spent in the Clave’s dungeons.
It takes all of four days for it to be over.
And suddenly, the chapter of terror and genocide that has plagued their world for several decades now is simply closed.
+++
After everything is said and done, the Clave scrambles for resolutions on how to handle the aftermath. There is a certain sort of desperation about them as they flounder.
Sure, they want to punish the Downworlders who dared kill any nephilim – traitors to the Clave or not – and they especially want to go after the warlock who started it all. But then again, after Magnus tore through quite a bit of the Circle by himself before he was ever joined by others, simply because he decided enough was enough, even the most hardcore Downworlders-are-beneath-us Clave members are more interested in making sure that Magnus might not decide to take the same approach to the rest of the Clave.
Especially, as the Downworld on a whole makes it very clear just how bad of an idea it would be to go after Magnus.
High Warlocks from all over the world, vampire clan leaders, werewolf alphas, seelie representatives, make their allegiance pretty damn clear. They stand with Magnus Bane. And they will go to war in case the Clave dares so much as threaten retaliation him – or any other Downworlder for that matter – for cleaning up their mess.
So, the Clave does what they do best. They look the other way.
+++
Alec stares straight ahead, somewhere into the middle distance, entirely preoccupied with his thoughts.
He is wandering New York’s streets, having finished his patrol a while ago already, but just not wanting to go back yet. He has too many things to think about. It’s dark at this point, night having fallen, and the city around him illuminated with countless lights.
Alec doesn’t really notice.
His thoughts are circling.
It’s been two days since the Circle was officially declared a non-entity, due to the only Circle members still alive at this point being held in Idris’ dungeons, awaiting trial. Either way, even those who might not be executed for their crimes, none of them will dare step foot outside of Idris again. At the very least not for a couple of years until things have settled once more.
Like his parents, who haven’t dared leave Idris ever since this all started. The Downworld hadn’t gone specifically after any Shadowhunters who are known for having switched allegiances beforehand. But best not risk getting caught in the current, still somewhat volatile situation, by wandering around and flaunting their freedom.
But that isn’t what has Alec so preoccupied right now. It’s something else, something related but also so much worse.
Hodge was arrested.
A Fire Message had been sent to the Clave, accusing Hodge of having been working directly for Valentine and having actually been the one to give up Ragnor Fell’s location. Which would make Hodge indirectly responsible for the subsequent attack on Ragnor Fell’s home, and thereby also for Magnus so very effectively enacting his revenge for anyone having gone after his friend.
Alec would have scoffed at the mere idea of Hodge ever doing anything of the sort.
If it weren’t for the fact that in his terror of possibly having Fell and Magnus go after him the same way they did Valentine, Hodge had promptly confessed to everything. Working for Valentine, feeding him intel, using his position so close to Alec’s family – the Heads of the New York Institute – to gather more information to pass on, manipulating things in Valentine’s favor, sending the wrong people on specific missions to ensure the Circle would be facing less opposition whenever they clashed with the Institute’s Shadowhunters.
Hodge had confessed to everything, gave himself up, well-aware he would be taken to Idris to await his trial there, clearly assuming that his chances at survival would still be better in Idris than if he were to stay in the city of the High Warlock who had hunted the most feared criminal in their world clean around the globe to satisfy his personal vengeance.
Alec hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t seen the betrayal coming at all. Neither had the rest of his family.
Turns out, the man who helped raise Alec and his siblings is a traitor. Twice over.
Yet another person I trusted turning out to be anything but worth my trust, he thinks numbly as he stares up at the dark sky.
Alec had watched as Hodge was led away in cuffs, Izzy’s grip around his wrist tightening in mirrored shock and confused anger, Jace’s face a mask of fury at his other side, all three of them floundering at finding their family betrayed by someone they trusted without question.
What is Alec supposed to do with the fact that three of the people in his life who he trusted explicitly, turned out to be genocidal zealots in the end. That all the laws and guidelines and role models he built his own beliefs upon are turning out to be mere shadow fronts, hiding a truly abhorrent lack of character underneath.
Because if his parents are not nearly the Shadowhunters he always thought they were, if those who raised him are traitors to everything he believes in, if even the Clave itself is now turning out to be so much less than Alec had always imagined, railing against Downworlders for going after nephilim – never mind that the Circle had most certainly deserved being hunted down – and now even arguing whether they can use the law to somehow justify punishing any Downworlders involved for their ‘audacity’ but so far not quite daring to do so out of fear, out of cowardice…
It goes against everything Alec ever thought they stood for.
‘The law is hard, but it is the law’ has been one of the foundations upon which he built his very sense of self. For the Clave to so suddenly be willing to ignore their own, so very defining adage just because it suits them at the moment…
No one should get to pick and choose which laws to follow, much less trying to use them as you please against others.
If there is ever a point in time, a situation that reveals a flaw in the law governing them, somewhere where the law turns out lacking, then you change it, you make it better. You don’t just get to bend the law to fit your personal agenda, and then just ignore it afterwards, just proceed on like nothing changed.
It’s the exact kind of thinking that Alec has always abhorred.
Clearly, his parents and those he trusts and the Clave itself, aren’t enough, their take on what is right or wrong, what should be done, what should be fought for, simply not being good enough for Alec anymore. At all.
So, he has spent the past couple of days thinking, reevaluating, reassessing, himself and everything around him, has been trying to wrap his head around the recent shifts, everything that has been revealed.
He thinks he’s even been getting somewhere.
Sure, he doesn’t yet have it all figured out, quite a number of things where he isn’t sure whether his conviction of something being the truth is his own or simply comes from what he has been taught ever since he was a child. But he is at a point where he at least has a number of things he finds to be immutably true about himself and what he wants to stand for, just as many things that he finds utterly unacceptable, and loads of stuff somewhere in the grey area in between.
Though, he likely isn’t going to get any further with his internal debates at this point. He is fully aware that going through everything, to question anything he has been taught from childhood on, is likely going to be a lengthy process, will likely take quite some time. Still, he’ll get there.
Although, there is one thing he wants to change, about himself, about the way the world sees him, about the way he himself gets to live. As soon as possible.
See, if the guidelines given to him by his parents and by the Clave aren’t good enough anymore to tell him what the true Shadowhunter way is supposed to be, then they most certainly aren’t good enough to tell him anything where his personal life is concerned.
So.
If he is going to reassess everything he knows, everything he is, everything he wants in his life… Well, then he might as well include all of himself in that. Including getting what he has wanted ever since that day he and his siblings tracked Magnus’ to his loft wanting his help. Ever since the pretty warlock – who had just taken out a Circle member with ease – turned around to face him, looked at Alec, saw him, and smiled.
Yes, if Alec has any say in it, he would quite like to have that smile be part of his life.
He pauses, knows that isn’t the entire truth.
Correction, he thinks, breathes out slowly, bracingly. If I have any say in it, I’d quite like that smile to be mine.
Another moment of pause.
And then, he nods to himself, turns his feet in the general direction of Brooklyn, starts determinedly making his way towards Magnus’ place.
What happened with Valentine and Magnus hunting the man around the globe and – unintentionally – starting a sort-of-revolution of the Downworld along the way, simply doesn’t factor into any of it for Alec. He might be a Lightwood, the heir to one of the old Shadowhunter lines, which does come with its own powers. But he has never been deluded enough to think that Magnus wasn’t always vastly more powerful, vastly more experienced, vastly more influential than Alec himself. The fact that Magnus proved those facts so recently to the entire Shadowworld quite simply makes no difference to him.
So.
He might as well go stop by the loft right now, see if Magnus will even be interested in talking to Alec at all. And if he is, then maybe they can get a drink together like they did that before. You know, that time after they had saved Luke, before Alec ever proposed to Lydia, when he and Magnus had just talked for hours. That time when Alec had fallen asleep on the warlock’s couch.
Only this time, if he were to fall asleep on Magnus’ couch again after a couple of drinks, he definitely wouldn’t run away in the morning like his very life depended on getting away as quickly as he possibly could.
To the contrary. His lips twist into a sardonic, wry sort of grin. This time around, I might just ask whether I could maybe stay a little longer.
He blinks up at the familiar building suddenly towering in front of him, the way across town to get here having passed surprisingly quickly, preoccupied as he was. Though he is glad to note that the lights in Magnus’ loft are definitely on, visible even from where Alec is still standing on the street below.
Another bracing breath in. Before he determinedly makes his way into the building.
No time like the present to start turning my life upside down, is there.
Just thought I’d pop by and say I hope you’re having a good Friday 😊 I’m excited about hopefully getting to some more of your fics this weekend. I’ve kept thinking about Freudian (who needs productivity at work?) I feel like brother zachariah’s reaction to all of that would be A+ but also kinda peeved he missed it?! Anyway, happy Friday.
Awe, thank you :) What a lovely thing to say <3 It’s so wonderful to hear how much you like Freudian, never mind that it was supposed to be just some crack-ish little accidental marriage AU, which then turned into something else entirely... Then again, when do my muses ever do what I tell them? XD But now the premise and all the potential ways it could go from here are keeping me rather ridiculously preoccupied, so who knows how many chapters I’ll end up adding to this by the time I’m finished :)
Hope you have a wonderful weekend and it made me so happy to hear how much you liked the fic <3 With it finally being Saturday, I’m determined to find some time to check out your blog as well!
(Accidental marriage AU set during 1x12, where Alec calls off his wedding to Lydia by kissing Magnus in front of everyone. He didn’t expect for the sudden change to confuse the already invoked ceremonial magic.)
[Based on this genius post from @crimsonclad]
Read on AO3
Alec can’t rip his eyes away.
His gaze is locked with Magnus’.
Magnus who is standing halfway down the aisle of the Institute’s ceremonial hall, looking right back at him where Alec is standing at the front, hand held in Lydia’s as she was just about to draw the wedded union rune on the skin of his palm.
Magnus’ focus on him calm, unwavering.
And Alec stares helpless, can’t seem to look away.
He hears his siblings whispering to each other where they are standing a step behind himself and Lydia, is aware of his mother striding down the aisle to confront Magnus – most likely about daring to show up here in the first place. But not once does Magnus glance away, eyes on Alec.
As always. As it’s been since the moment they met. They are surrounded by people and Magnus only has eyes for him.
“Are you gonna be okay, buddy?” he hears Jace ask from behind him, something careful and worried and uncertain in his voice.
Alec can’t even blame him for his confusion. He himself isn’t doing much better, so damn confused, torn between his duty, his family, his career and the idea that he’ll be giving up any chance at ever finding true happiness.
I don’t know, he wants to say to Jace. But can’t. Because Lydia is standing in front of him, looking stunning in her wedding dress, holding the stele she already charged with the ceremonial magic of the wedded union rune, the ceremony already started.
No, I won’t, would be the truthful answer. But he can’t say that either. Because it’s his wedding day. And Alec would rather be anywhere but here.
I don’t want this, he thinks, eyes are still locked with Magnus’.
Magnus who is right there, who came to Alec’s wedding despite saying he wouldn’t ask again, wouldn’t chase him anymore. Magnus who probably looks just as breathtaking as always but right now Alec couldn’t even tell you the color of his shirt. Because he hasn’t so much as glanced away from Magnus’ eyes yet.
He knows that the instance he glances away, he’ll have to make a choice. A final choice. A choice he won’t be able to take back. A choice between duty and being himself.
Alec keeps his eyes on Magnus, tries not to think about the fact that he is almost drawing strength from Magnus unwavering gaze, his steadfast presence, his exclusive focus on Alec. Immovable. Certain. There.
Like an anchor, a rock amongst the waves, to let Alec find his footing again as the decisions made by him and by others threaten to drag him out, drag him under, drag him away from everything he ever wanted in life.
He can’t breathe.
I’m not going to be okay, he thinks, something almost desperate running through him at the thought. Not at all.
“Alec,” Lydia says lowly from in front of him, calling his attention back to her. He has to blink once, twice, before he can actually make himself glance away from Magnus.
He looks at her. She doesn’t deserve this, neither of them does. Lydia doesn’t deserve to be bound to him, someone who’ll never truly want her, who’ll always regret marrying her to a certain degree no matter how hard Alec would try not to, simply because a small part of himself – the part that so very recently has come to a couple of realizations about himself, realizations that mostly circle around a certain warlock – will always resent the fact that he can’t have what he actually wants, that anyone he would truly want to marry wouldn’t be acceptable in the eyes of the Clave. Because if it were up to him, he’d never actually want to marry a woman. And that’s just not done.
Lydia is still smiling, brightly, like there is nothing at all wrong with Alec staring helplessly and absolutely transfixed at someone else, at the warlock who showed up unannounced right in the middle of their wedding.
Then again, Lydia also knows. She’s known since Alec proposed to her, only for her to reject him on the grounds of it not being fair to him as she would never be able to truly love him. She has already had her big love, and she has absolutely no interest in finding another.
But Alec already knew that, realized as much when she told him about her late husband, knew she’d never fall in love with him. It’s why he decided to propose to her in the first place. Because they are very much in the same boat.
So, Alec had told her, told her about himself, had let himself be honest with her. He had told her some things about himself that he hadn’t even fully admitted to himself yet at that point. Told her about not being attracted to women, told her that he will never be able to truly love her either, at least not romantically. But that he could easily see himself loving her platonically, that marrying someone he considers a friend is already much better than he ever expected he’d get, that he could honestly see himself build a life with her. As friends.
And at that, she had finally said yes.
The point is, both of them have known from the very start that they were marrying for their careers, for the job they had both always dreamed of, to make up for the fact that neither of them could have the life they actually want. Marrying for love simply wasn’t an option for either of them. Lydia because she doesn’t intend to ever let herself love anyone again, and Alec because he’ll never be able to marry someone he could love anyway. Not if he wants the Clave’s approval. Or his parents’, for that matter.
So, the two of them had decided to turn something awful about their lives into something good, into something new, something hopeful, into the idea of family.
And now, Alec is about to call it all off.
Because he can’t breathe. Looking at Lydia smiling in front of him, his siblings barely a few steps away, his parents watching, a life of duty and responsibility and never any true happiness for himself in front of him. And all he can think is that it’s not enough, not even close.
I don’t want this.
He breathes in. Tries to at least. There is something lodged in his throat, a pressure on his chest he doesn’t know what to do with. “I can’t breathe,” he almost gasps out.
“I know,” Lydia smiles at him, still bright, still happy, still content with their situation and the future they might have.
Alec focuses on her. “I can’t do this, Lydia,” he says, so very, incredibly sorry when he sees her smile waver just the slightest bit. “I thought we were doing the right thing,” he continues, lowly, urgently. “But this isn’t it.”
Because, it’s just not.
Damnit all, but they both deserve a chance at more, not just contentment with choices made out of necessity and obligation and settling for something less because it’s all they think they can have.
“You don’t need to explain.” She is smiling again. Almost like she isn’t even entirely surprised by this turn of events.
“Lydia, I’m sorry,” he says. And, by the angel, does he mean it. This entire charade was his idea. And now he’s the one deciding not to go through with it.
“Hey,” she interrupts him, hand coming up to settle against the side of his neck. “You deserve to be happy,” she says, perfectly mirroring his thoughts about her deserving the same. “Okay?” Her smile is bright once more. “I’ll be fine.”
She’ll be fine, he thinks, reassures himself. Then, determinedly, we’ll be fine.
He smiles slightly at her in return, barely there but it’s enough for something genuinely bright to flash through her expression in definite approval.
Alec turns.
Back towards the guest, back towards everyone watching.
Back towards Magnus.
Their gazes lock instantly once more. Magnus is still waiting, waiting for him. Standing in the middle of the Institute’s ceremonial hall, amongst Shadowhunters, still unwavering, meeting his gaze.
Alec feels like he can breathe again.
I want him.
His breath catches, something like a current almost seeming to hum under his skin at that thought. It should be scary, the way he wants Magnus, the way he is currently turning away from things that mean so much to him, instead willing to risk it all to – for the first time in his entire damn life – be entirely, unapologetically selfish, to do something solely for himself.
It’s freeing.
He lets himself think it again. I want him. Absently marvels at not feeling that instant thread of shameful guilt curling through him that he’s been living with ever since he first realized that no matter how good of a Shadowhunter he might train himself to be he would never be able to truly live up to his parents’ or to the Clave’s standards. Not where his heart is concerned.
He walks down the few steps leading down from the area at the front, halts just for an instant. Not due to doubt, not due to hesitation, but to give himself a moment to appreciate just how momentous what he is about to do truly is.
Alec already knows he isn’t going to change his mind, has no interest in turning back, in turning away.
Why would I? When everything I want is right there.
His eyes remain on Magnus. Who watches him right back.
I want him.
Because, he does.
Alec starts walking, towards Magnus, almost absently brushes off his mother’s complaint on the way, until he is finally there, within reaching distance, hands coming up, grasping a hold of Magnus’ suit. He pulls him close, closer, closer still.
Into a kiss.
The first press of their lips together almost feels like a punch to his system, like adrenaline and not enough air and finally finally being able to breathe.
He gasps in a breath, barely moves away to do so before he leans in again.
And Magnus is already reacting, lips moving against his, warm and soft, a hand coming up to wrap around one of Alec’s wrist, the other landing on his waist, keeping him close.
Alec thinks he could lose himself in this.
He does. Loses his sense of time and location for a couple of moments as all of himself is focused on the sensation of having Magnus so close, the heat of him, lips moving against his, the barest scent of something warm and woodsy making Alec want to lean in just that little bit closer, wants more, wants it all.
There is a slight burning sensation on the back of his hand, the exact opposite of where Lydia had been about to draw the wedded union rune. It’s a familiar sensation, the initial discomfort of a rune being applied for the first time.
Although, why would I…?
There is a sort of pressure building in the air around them, a feeling he doesn’t recognize, something new, something that feels weighty and significant. And maybe the sensation is just part of being kissed – because, how would I know? – but still Alec pulls away slightly from the kiss, wanting to check what’s going on.
But he barely manages to pull away enough to meet Magnus’ eyes, heat punching through him at the way the warlock follows his lips as he does, sees Magnus’ brow furrowed the slightest bit in mirrored confusion, maybe able to feel that something around them too, but his focus clearly still very much on Alec.
Their eyes lock again. And Alec forgets about the burning sensation in his hand, or the pressure of something in the air around them.
Instead, he leans in again, needs to kiss Magnus again.
Magnus meets him halfway, clearly in no way interested in stopping either, though he takes the lead this time. Their second kiss is softer somehow, a little slower, more testing than before but somehow also so much more intense at the same time, like electricity shivering along Alec’s skin, honey-slow heat suffusing his veins as he tries to pull Magnus just that little closer by the lapels of his jacket.
This is what I want.
Something shifts, the very air around them seeming to twist. And then, it settles, stills. Right alongside something within Alec doing the same.
Angel, his lips are soft, Alec thinks almost helplessly, only halfway aware of the burning on his hand reaching its peak, at the same time as the pressure in the air around them does. He feels Magnus twitch slightly, something almost like the slightest flinch running through the warlock. Like he feels it, too. Whatever ‘it’ is.
Suddenly, there are gasps from all around them. Which is what finally has Alec pull away from Magnus once more.
He blinks at the warlock still so close to him, who blinks right back, expression mirroring his own slight confusion. Like Magnus felt the shift and the change and everything just like Alec did.
Alec honestly feels like he might be missing something really rather important right now, and finally turns to face the rest of the room. He isn’t the least bit surprised to find everyone staring at them.
Or more specifically, at their hands.
Alec frowns slightly, glances down, his own confusion only increasing once he does. Because there is a wedded union rune glowing on the back of his hand where it is still holding on to the lapel of Magnus’ suit.
But. They stopped the ceremony before Lydia could draw the rune. So, how… ?
There is the slightest choking sound from Magnus, only audible to Alec because they are still standing so close. He immediately looks up at Magnus’ face, only to follow his stare back down to the warlock’s own hand, where it is still wrapped around Alec’s wrist.
Alec blinks, too surprised to even really react to the sight of the matching mark on the warlock’s skin, the wedded union rune sitting resplendent on the back of Magnus’ own hand.
But how?
He has no time to figure out just what is going on, before the silence in the ceremonial hall is finally broken. Though, not in the way he would have ever expected.
“It is my honor to now pronounce you one,” the Silent Brother - where he is still standing at the front of the hall, next to the sacred altar used only in Shadowhunter weddings to lend power to the new bond and to ensure the angel’s blessing for the union - intones in his deep, echoing voice. It's the traditional words to pronounce someone wedded after successful conclusion of the ceremony and the Silent Brother says them so calmly, like that is in any way a reasonable thing to pronounce at this point in time.
Alec just blinks in utter confusion, even as he absently notes the warmth of Magnus’ hand still wrapped around his wrist, the way it tightens slightly in mirrored shock. The hand that bears the exact same mark as Alec’s does, the wedded union rune on their skin still aglow with the power of angels instilled within.
I need help. I can't remember the title of the Geraskier au fanfic wherein they are neighbors and Geralt's businessman and jaskier is a singer. And oh Calanthe's a bitch trying to get Ciri from Geralt.
Please please help me find that fic. Thank you!!! ❤
Magnus has lived in New York for decades, enjoys a rather hedonistic, eccentric life style, being high society's go-to guy for that magnificent anti-wrinkle cream or those good luck charms that almost seem to actually work.
He is constantly surrounded by wealth and glamour and beauty, sycophants everywhere, everyone wanting to get as close as they can so they can promptly ask for favors.
Sound familiar?
Yeah, if he and Magnus hadn't known each other ever since he can remember, Tony would have sicked SI's lawyers on him for stealing his bit a long time ago.
But he met Magnus when Tony himself was just a child, met him at a party his parents were attending somewhere in Asia.
Back then, Magnus had smiled at him and talked to him like he would to a grown-up and Tony had decided then and there that they were going to be friends.
Of course, high-society life doesn't quite work like that.
They did continue to see each other at various parties from time to time, but only rather infrequently, not at all helped by Tony's rather erratic life style as he grew up, from child to teenager to college kid, became an orphan, the owner of a Fortune-500 company, the world's go-to guy for weapons, for technological advancement, to the world’s nuclear deterrent, and forever remained the world’s punching bag.
Not to give the wrong impression, sometimes years go by between the two of them really talking to each other, but the circles of high society aren't expansive enough for the two of them to not at least catch each other's eyes from across the room at least once or twice a year.
And, sure, they never discussed it, never even brought it up, but Tony has never been blind to the fact that Magnus still looks the exact same now as he did the first time Tony saw him, doesn't seem to have aged at all.
A fact that also seems to escape everyone else for some inexplicable reason.
It will be years down the line before Tony finally gets an explanation for Magnus' forever youthful appearance and also why no one aside from Tony seems to notice. Mostly, because he never actually asks Magnus about it. Doesn't ask him for answers, not for anything.
For the very simple reason that Magnus is the one person - the only person - Tony knows who has never asked him for something, not once. Not for money, not for tech, not for favors of any kinds, not even that he better himself.
Not anything.
And Tony has always made sure to repay the man in kind.
There is just something about knowing that whenever they do see each other - even more rarely these days than they used to - Magnus will smile, brightly, honestly, genuinely, and then ask Tony how he has been and listen interestedly to everything Tony might ramble in reply.
Magnus who never wags his finger, not about his partying when he was younger, not about his sleeping around, his drinking, his irresponsible lifestyle, his derision for his father, his impatience for anyone not able to keep up with him.
Magnus sees him and smiles.
It's the only truly genuine smile Tony got to see in high society all throughout his childhood and teenage years.
It's worth more to him than he could possibly say.
But.
Just because they never discussed it doesn't mean that Tony isn't fully aware that there is more to Magnus. Something he doesn't know, something even beyond just keeping the other man forever young.
Despite what everyone might assume about Tony's interaction with Captain America and Norse gods and whoever else, the first person to truly make Tony believe in the supernatural was someone else entirely.
Magnus with his never-aging face and his far-too-old eyes. Magnus with his kind smile and genuine interest in everything the desperate-for-attention-but-too-proud-to-admit-it boy at the party might have to say. Magnus who had once even made eight-year-old Tony a nightlight which glowed only to his eyes, invisible to anyone else, so as not to get him in trouble with his 'Man up, Tony!' father.
So, yes, Tony has known about the supernatural for a long time, has known that there is more in this world since long before the rest of humanity ever caught on. But then again, what else is new?
Which is also the source of his derision for all those superheroes and gods from other planets and self-made magicians proclaiming themselves the heralds of magic.
Because Tony knows what real magic looks like.
And this lot? With the sole exception of Loki, all of their most powerful mumbo-jumbo has nothing on the ease with which he has seen Magnus manipulate reality while doing a couple of parlor tricks to entertain Tony when he was just a child.
It's also where his conviction that magic is just as scientifically definable, just as much governed by scientific laws as anything else in this universe, comes from.
Because when Tony had claimed as much - during an entirely hypothetical conversation about magic that of course had nothing at all to do with Magnus himself - the other man had just nodded easily, saying something along the lines of 'if it is natural to this world, then of course there must be a natural way to explain it all'.
Still, Magnus never actually told him where his powers come from, or whether there are more than just him who can do something similar, never actually told him anything at all about his less-than-ordinary powers.
And since Tony had sworn to himself never to actually demand answers from the man, it had only ever been a thought in the back of his mind.
Even when he started making tangling with the darker side of the not-quite-ordinary population of their beautiful planet quite literally his business, started fully immersing himself into that world.
Tony might be 'normal' physically, but he still has the tools to make sure that in this mess of superhuman powers and godlike egos, at least one truly unenhanced person can still keep up, can speak for all those other ordinary, literally power-less people around. Even if only because of a metal suit he built himself.
However.
After finally having gathered a team meant to help him protect the world and all its ordinary citizens, Tony is suddenly alone once more.
Within weeks, everything he has worked for has fallen apart. The threats looming over his head, looming over earth, over humanity, are greater than ever and he has no help whatsoever.
And despite how much he would like to claim differently, Tony alone simply isn't enough to protect earth from what is coming.
Tried it and most definitely learned my lesson. Let's not try that again.
So, he needs help.
Which brings him here, sitting in his penthouse of his tower, staring at the phone in his hand, the number already dialed, finger hovering over the call button.
And, sure, Tony hasn't really spoken to Magnus in years, hasn't seen the man at any parties for quite some time actually, and he can't risk someone agreeing to help only to then turn around and stab him in the back as well. Tony quite honestly doesn’t think he’d be able to take another betrayal of his trust, quite simply doubts he'd have the strength to get up again after.
But he needs help, needs someone who he can trust to genuinely help him, or - at the very least - to genuinely tell him to fuck off.
And there is no one he knows in this world who is more genuine than Magnus.
He blinks down at his phone.
And presses call.
xxx
When Tony calls Magnus for help, the man simply listens, asks a couple of question, and then appears within the hour.
Not only that, but he also brings an entire group of so-called Shadowhunters along with him, all of whom look equally amused and irritated at the idea of some alien armies coming to threaten the ordinary people they apparently consider to be under their protection.
Because the angels told them so. Which is a thing, apparently.
Yeah.
Turns out, those superpowers humanity so very recently discovered for themselves? Completely and utterly laughable compared to the sort of creatures that have been running around earth ever since humanity existed.
Learn something new every day.
And the situation just continues to escalate from there.
Apparently, these angel-blooded warrior types are part of a world-wide organization, humanity’s defense against the demon hordes – …at this point Tony just gives up being surprised at all the stuff he’s learning today – and all of them seem to be in a constant state of battle-readiness, seem to literally live for it.
Because when Magnus’ husband rings the metaphorical alarm, it takes their leaders from all over the world barely half an hour to collectively appear for their briefing.
In Tony’s penthouse.
All through the magical portal Magnus makes, leading to a place called Idris.
There is a briefing and it’s all pretty military style if Tony is entirely honest. Battle plans being made, very clear command structures within the group, and people actually listening to their superiors.
And after this lot has been briefed they promptly disappear again.
Which is when things start getting really weird.
Because after the angel-blooded warriors, come the demon-blooded ones.
And, holy crap, could Tony have done without knowing just how much of Twilight and Harry Potter and various other fantasy novels is actually accurate.
Vampires and werewolves and actual fucking faeries. At least the warlocks and their magic are not quite as surprising as the rest. Well, at least not to Tony.
But these so-called Downworlders still aren't the weirdest bit.
Because then, once those groups have been briefed, Magnus calls his father. A demon lord of hell or something along those lines.
And, yeah, heaven and hell, those are apparently things that exist as well.
But Magnus’ father appears and turns out to be a truly impressively condescending asshole – his entire attitude makes Howard Stark look warm and fuzzy in comparison – and he also seems to have some sort of beef with his son-in-law Alexander if the scowling is anything to go by.
But apparently he ‘owes’ Magnus for some reason, so in the end he agrees to call his brothers when the time of the actual invasion comes.
A sentence which sounds innocent enough but whatever Tony had expected to come of calling Magnus for help, it certainly hadn't been to find himself standing alongside actual angels and true demons when Thanos finally makes his appearance on earth.
And the purple alien looks just as surprised to see them there, clearly having expected minimal if any resistance from earth, maybe some puny mortals and a handful of intergalactic heroes at most.
Not the entire Shadowworld and any realms associated with it.
Because other planets, other races may have superpowers in their blood, may even call themselves gods of this or that.
But apparently none of them have entire realms associated with theirs like earth does. Realms filled with beings so ancient, so powerful they could burn out entire planets within an instant, no ridiculously gaudy glove or sparkly glass marbles required.
It might have been eons since Arch Angels and Greater Demons actually worked together, fought wars at each others' sides as brothers.
But this is still their planet, humanity is theirs - to protect or to mess with - and they are clearly more than willing to set their differences aside to make sure it isn't torn apart by some upstart little pup with delusions of grandeur.
And as Shadowhunters sweep across the battlefield in well-practiced battle formations, inescapable offense and impenetrable defense, aliens falling by the hundreds to their blades. As werewolves and vampires cut paths of death through the armies, too fast to be seen by the normal eye and easily tearing aliens limb to limb. As the earth itself opens up at the behest of the Faeries, entire swarms of aliens being swallowed by the very ground they stand on, never to be seen again. As warlocks join their powers in twirling columns of fire and magic, sparking with pure power and reaching all the way to the sky, cutting down entire swaths of aliens in a single sweep, leaving paths of death and destruction in their wake.
As angels glow so brightly, even the aliens can’t help but bow to them. As demons burn so darkly, even the aliens can’t help but fall to their knees.
The armies crumble.
Thanos is the first to fall. And his legions of aliens follow quickly.
It’s over before it even really begins, before any of the human or intergalactic support even makes it to the battlefield.
And once it’s done, once even the last alien has been torn apart, everyone just disappears once more.
Shadowhunters, Downworlders, Arch Angels and Greater Demons. Just gone within moments, angels and demons seemingly blinking out of existence, while portals open up all over the battlefield and everyone even partially human rather casually strolling through to god-knows-where.
Not a single one of them waits around for recognition, apparently either feeling like they have just done their duty or like they were only protecting what’s theirs anyway.
It's certainly a mindset Tony can get behind.
The last ones to leave are Magnus and his husband.
His old, apparently-demon-blooded friend steps up to him, reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, smile on his face. “It was good seeing you. Do try to call more often, Tony,” he says warmly. "And we'd love to have you over for dinner some time."
Tony just shrugs with a casual grin of his own, feeling lighter than he has felt ever since his fateful trip to space with a nuke on his back, ever since the realization that they not only aren't alone in the universe but that they are also hopelessly outgunned.
“I’ll try to fit it into my schedule,” he returns flippantly, and tries not to show how much it means to him to know that he does in fact have at least one other person who is truly, unchangeably on his side and will come to his aid if he ever truly asks for help.
Magnus’ smile widens, something in his eyes telling Tony that the warlock heard everything Tony didn't say out loud. Then, he turns, reaches for the hand of his angel-blooded, apparently-forever-scowling husband, a nod in goodbye, before the two of them casually meander through the portal springing up out of seemingly nowhere side by side.
Tony quirks a grin.
By the time everyone else – Avengers old and new, humans, Wakandans, intergalactic heroes, a couple of gods – arrives Tony is the only one still there.
And everyone else is left staring speechlessly at the utter destruction stretching out in front of them.
Tony knows there will be questions, knows there is probably even some camera footage somewhere.
But Magnus reassured him that all anyone mundane will be able to see is the effects being wrought by their powers, inexplicable phenomena tearing the alien armies apart. Even Tony isn't actually supposed to be able to see anything of their world and Magnus surmised that it's likely some quirk of his too-highly-functioning brain of his that lets Tony see through the glamors protecting the Shadowworld from mundane eyes at all.
But with everyone literally blind to whatever might have been caught on camera, how is anyone to prove that it isn’t the exact same for Tony, that he can see who wrought the destruction. It’s not like he doesn't have sufficient practice at bullshitting in case someone asks him.
And as people spot him standing in the middle of the battlefield and start making their way towards him, likely seconds away from bombarding him with questions, Tony just lets his eyes drift over the battlefield once more.
Focuses briefly on the body of Thanos lying dead at his feet, eyes burned out by angelic grace, skin burned off by demonic fury.
At this point, the big hulking corpse of the alien responsible for this mess is only recognizable by the mostly melted glove still worn on his hand, stones removed, now split between the different realms of earth, never to be recovered by a single being ever again.
Tony smiles, feeling honestly rather smugly content right now.
Because in their derision for the weakness of men, the universe never considered that earth itself might only seem so weak because its most powerful beings long-since outgrew this plane of existence entirely.
And looking around the utter destruction surrounding him, Tony can’t help but think that from now on the universe will likely think twice before trying to outsource their problems to earth ever again.
"Maia is one of his top engineers, a spitfire, and the day she minces her words is the day Magnus starts believing in magic"
from chapter 1 of the cup-winning Malec AU (M, 26k) 'Take your Time' by @apathyinreverie
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Magic references in Malec AU fanfic - a fic rec series, check the #malec au magic references tag to explore more ways it is woven into mundane Malec fanfic
(Just a bit of fluffy jelousy. Oh, and Malec on the beach, of course.)
Read on AO3
Magnus smiles lazily in the shade of their parasol, feeling rather delighted with his lot in life right now.
They are currently on a beach in Hawaii, beautiful blue water in front of them, white sand beneath them, the soft ocean breeze around them.
And Alexander stretched out on the lounge chair beside his, only in dark grey swim shorts and aviator sunglasses, skin glistening slightly with sweat, looking dark and brooding and dangerous, such a beautiful contrast to everything that surrounds them right now, it kind of takes Magnus' breath away.
By magic, his husband is gorgeous.
Because, yeah. Husband.
It's been ten months already, and Magnus still hasn’t entirely gotten over the fact that they are married now. Sometimes he still catches himself just gazing wonderingly, happily at the wedding band on his finger, still a little floored at the fact that Alexander is actually his husband.
And now, ten months into their marriage, they finally managed to go on their honeymoon. Maybe after this, the fact that they are married at all will finally seem a little more real to him.
Or maybe it never will. Maybe he will always be a little amazed by the fact that Alexander is his husband.
Magnus would honestly be okay with that.
Point is, it’s been almost ten months since their wedding and they only now finally managed to go on their honeymoon. Because things have been stressful.
Despite having dealt with the various villains - big and small - who had been threatening their lives, their loved ones, their world in some way, shape or form, the cleanup had kept them all occupied for a long time afterwards.
Not only the mess left behind by Sebastian Morgenstern’s killing spree around the world, but also the sudden increase of demon activity in the wake of Edom’s destruction as demons from other hell dimensions started vying for power. Not to even mention the rebuilding of Alicante or Clary’s sudden disappearance, sending them all on a rather frantic search for her whereabouts.
It had taken them much longer than it should have to finally find her, simply because none of them had thought to even look for her in the mundane world. The realization that she had somehow lost all of her powers as well as any recollection of ever having been part of the Shadowworld, had hit all of them hard.
None more than Jace, who had been absolutely devastated, is still struggling with it even months later. And Alexander has been doing his best to prop his parabatai up in his time of need, struggling with his workload but as always more concerned with taking care of those he cares about than himself.
Glancing over at him now, Magnus is glad to notice that some of that stress that has been lining Alexander's face over the past few months finally seems to be smoothing out a little.
They had really needed a break. Even Magnus had been pretty much running on empty by the end of it.
Because while Alexander has been dealing with the New York side of things, Magnus in turn has been spending quite a bit of time in Alicante, arguing with the Clave that with the suddenly shifting borders and separations within the Shadowworld they desperately needed to establish additional structures of some sort for Downworlders and Shadowhunters to interact, to meet eye-to-eye, to communicate at the same level.
Just something to show the Downworld that the Clave’s opinion of those with demon blood truly is changing.
And after hemming and hawing over it for much longer than seemed necessary the Clave had finally agreed to not only let Downworlders into the nephilim city but to have an actual High Warlock of Alicante.
Only to then promptly - and rather unexpectedly - offer that position to Magnus.
An offer which had also rather suspiciously coincided almost perfectly with Alexander being appointed as the new Inquisitor.
As soon as Isabelle heard about the suspiciously-timed double-appointment, she had joked that the Clave had likely made damn sure to have both positions ready to be offered to them at the same time, probably having realized that they weren’t going to get either Magnus or Alexander to move to a different city if the other couldn’t come with.
Which, fair enough.
But with Alexander having quite the task ahead of him – not only having to get used to the job but also catching up to all the things that will have accumulated ever since Imogen Herondale’s death, seeing as there hasn't been an Inquisitor since her – and Magnus having to build an entirely new structure within Idris, establish protocols for Downworlders to live in a up-until-now-exclusively-nephilim city and also build the connections from Idris to the outside as well. Thankfully, he already knows the job itself and has even already gotten into contact with the other High Warlocks around the world, knowing most of them from his time as the High Warlock of Brooklyn.
Still, both of them are going to be rather stupidly busy soon.
So, with Alexander's appointment starting in three weeks, Magnus had promptly announced that exact date as his own starting day as well – hey, if the Clave can do ‘coincidence’, so can Magnus – and then he had turned to his husband and suggested they finally go on their honeymoon before their new jobs once more keep them entirely busy.
And Alexander had immediately agreed. Quite happily so.
Which brings them here, a beautiful beach in Hawaii, after having already spent a few days in the beautiful city of Paris as their first stop.
And Magnus absolutely loves it here. The sun, the beach, the water, the people.
The latter actually being another reason for Magnus' currently rather excellent mood.
Because they are surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad people and Alexander not only isn't looking but doesn’t even seem to notice all the skin on display, his eyes seeming to just go right past everyone here, whether they are longingly staring at Magnus' husband or not. Like they don't even register.
If anything, Alexander seems mostly busy scowling at anyone who decides to even vaguely glance in their – or rather Magnus' – general direction.
And Magnus has admittedly always had a sort of weakness for showing off something he's got that others can't have – not that he's ever had something nearly as worth showing off as his gorgeous husband – and he's never had a problem with his partners showing him off in return.
But this? Having Alexander seemingly jealous of anyone getting so much as a glimpse of Magnus' skin? Well, turns out, he likes this even better.
Although, as absolutely delighted as he may be about this newest revelation, Magnus still isn't going to be so insensitive as to point out that he noticed Alexander's glaring at pretty much everyone around them, as irrational as the apparent jealousy may be.
Because they both know there is nothing to actually worry about, and as much as Magnus may enjoy the thought of Alexander’s possessiveness over him, poking fun at his husband for something like this really isn’t something that appeals to Magnus in the slightest.
So, best to just give Alexander some time to settle this with himself.
Magnus smiles lazily, stretches slightly on his towel, and then closes his eyes, ready to maybe doze a little.
Taking his husband to Hawaii was definitely one of his better ideas.
+++
Alec thinks coming to the beach might have been a mistake.
Well, the idea of relaxing in the sun had sounded great at first.
And they both definitely need the break after the past few months. The cleanup, the many funerals, the Faeries demanding compensation for their Queen's death, the sudden and unexpected surge in demon activity and only Magnus' timely intervention by way of bringing several High Warlocks, as well as werewolf alphas and vampire clan leaders from various cities together to help the suddenly so very thinned ranks of Shadowhunters deal with the demons.
Then, all the personal drama with Luke not being a werewolf anymore and Clary not being a Shadowhunter anymore and Jace kind of just falling apart.
In all of that there had barely even been the time for Magnus and Alec to celebrate the fact that they were married at all now. A thought which still has Alec a little breathless sometimes when he wakes in the morning to find Magnus sleeping next to him, peaceful, quiet, just the two of them. The thought that the warlock is entirely his now.
Alec still isn't sure how exactly this happened, how he managed to get everything he ever wanted in life.
He not only found the man of his dreams, the love of his life - found Magnus, a powerful warlock, beautiful inside and out who loves Alec wholly and completely - but as a cherry on top, Alec was then also offered his absolute dream job.
In just a couple of weeks, Alec will be holding one of the highest offices in the Clave. While living in Alicante. With his Downworlder husband. The recently appointed High Warlock of Alicante.
How in the name of Raziel did Alec manage to truly have it all?
Well, the new jobs also mean that after things had barely started slowing down recently, everything is likely to once more pick up speed soon.
But that only meant that when Magnus had suggested they take a holiday, that they finally go on that honeymoon they never had before things get stressful again, Alec had immediately agreed.
Because several days with only Magnus, no distractions or duties or missions or cataclysmic, most-likely-started-by-his-siblings events to deal with? Yeah, Alec would have had to be an absolute fool not to jump at that chance.
And now they are in Hawaii, the second stop of their honeymoon.
Their first stop had actually been Paris, although they admittedly didn't see nearly as much of the oh-so-famous city as they maybe could have, simply because neither of them had felt much of an urge to actually leave their hotel room, not when they finally had a couple of days just to themselves. Of course, there were romantic dinners and walks through the beautiful city, but they just spent most of their time in Paris locked in their luxurious hotel room, just the two of them. And if Alec could do it over again he wouldn’t change a damn thing. So, there.
And after the - according to his husband - obligatory couple of days in the city of love, Magnus had suggested they change locations and spend a couple of days on a beach, out in the sun.
Alec had actually felt nothing but anticipation when Magnus had suggested it, never having been to a beach for the simple purpose of being at the beach before, an admission which promptly had Magnus almost looking offended on his behalf. And as soon as they had checked into their new hotel, his husband had immediately suggested they got to the beach.
Alec had simply agreed, honestly looking forward to it.
A decision he promptly congratulated himself for as soon as Magnus changed into his beach clothes, looking breathtaking as always - in his blue-gold, rather short swim shorts, sunglasses and nothing else - but with far more skin on display than usual.
And no matter how long they've been together, no matter that they have been married for a few months now, sometimes Alec still looks at Magnus and just loses his breath at how stunningly beautiful he is, heart skipping a beat at the sight of his breathtakingly gorgeous husband.
Never more so than now.
Because if Alec thought Magnus was gorgeous in the shadowy hallways of the Institute and the muted, soft lighting of the loft, well, then Magnus out in the Hawaiian sun is simply otherwordly, stunningly beautiful.
All golden skin, stretched out in the sun on his lounge chair, makeup blue and glittery like the ocean, skin seeming to glisten and sparkle from that lotion he applied earlier, freely soaking up the sun, entirely relaxed, maybe even dozing a little, features finally free of worries and responsibilities.
Alec hasn't been able to really look away from him ever since they got here, simply mesmerized. Quite happily so.
And seeing as this is his husband, Alec gets to shamelessly ogle him all he wants.
Actually, he'd very much like to point out that he’s the only one who has that right.
He sends another scowl at the pair of girls who are again wandering past them, now for the third time in the past thirty minutes, always giggling, flicking their hair, skimpy bikinis barely covering the important bits, always throwing rather heated, longing looks at Alec's husband.
Okay, yes, they might be directing just as many glances at Alec himself, but that’s just entirely beside the point.
His scowl darkens.
And he knows exactly what this is.
Knows why his lips curl at that one guy - the far-too-blonde, far-too-muscled, far-too-tanned guy in the green shorts - doing some not-at-all-efficient-looking stretches just a few feet away from them, eyes rather intently fixed on Alec's husband. Knows why his eyes narrow whenever another guy or girl - from that group playing what Magnus called 'beach volleyball' earlier - pauses in the game for one reason or another to throw another heated glance their way.
Alec knows.
It's jealousy. Or maybe possessiveness. He honestly isn't sure which one. Maybe it's both.
And he is fully aware that he is being entirely irrational, because he knows with immovable certainty that there is absolutely nothing to worry about, that to Magnus everyone else here is barely more than the background canvas of their day on the beach, that he has all of Magnus, heart, body and soul, and that there is nothing and no one who could possibly tempt his husband away from him.
He knows all this.
But he still can't help it.
He doesn't like strangers flexing in front of his husband and he also really doesn't like anyone else looking at Magnus like that. At all.
And he would just put a stop to all the people currently ogling his husband by leaning over for a kiss or something.
But Magnus is currently at the very least dozing if not actually sleeping and they are here on holiday because the past couple of months have been ridiculously busy and Magnus finally looks like he is losing some of that stress that has been tightening the skin around his eyes recently and Alec simply doesn't want to wake him for something as petty - as entirely unjustified, stupid, embarrassing - as jealousy.
And then there is also the fact that this keeps reminding him of the last time jealousy had been a topic between them.
That time a few weeks before their wedding, when Magnus still hadn't had his magic back and then traded away his loft and moved in with Alec at the Institute for a bit. And then - for some reason - decided to be jealous of Underhill of all people. And Alec remembers how absolutely irritated with himself Magnus had seemed when he had finally kind of admitted to being jealous at all.
And how less-than-optimal Alec's reaction of chuckling in the face of Magnus' jealousy might have been.
Sure, in that moment Alec had simply felt flattered, maybe a little pleased, but mainly he’d just been utterly amused at the mere idea of him so much as looking at anyone else, amused that Magnus apparently hadn't figured out just how absolutely, uncompromisingly exclusive Alec's attraction to him is.
So, he had laughed, truly not meaning anything by it.
However, now, with this irrational, clawing tightness in his chest, Alec thinks that laughter truly might not have been the best way he could have reacted.
Because turns out, jealousy is no laughing matter, and apparently also has nothing at all to do with being rational. As he is currently learning.
So, yeah. He is definitely not dragging Magnus into this.
But that doesn't mean Alec can't make his displeasure known to the strangers who don't know to keep their eyes to themselves.
Alec throws a scowl at the lifeguard who aimlessly wandered past them a few minutes ago, did an absolutely obvious double-take when he saw Magnus and has now apparently decided to set up camp only a few feet away from them and has been continually throwing rather longing glances back at Magnus ever since.
Alec doesn't like that either.
"Love," Magnus suddenly speaks up lazily from beside him, immediately focusing all of Alec’s attention onto himself and proving that he has in fact not been asleep.
Magnus is still stretched out on his lounge chair, head turned slightly to face him, lazy smile on his lips, looking so damn gorgeous.
And once more getting mesmerized by the sight, Alec honestly can't even blame anyone for wanting to look.
He'd just really rather prefer they didn't.
Alec just raises an eyebrow at him in question. Tries to appear nonchalant and not to give away just what has been keeping him occupied pretty much ever since they got here.
A slight smile tilts Magnus' lips as he continues, "You do know that these are all mundanes, right? Mundanes who likely have never gotten so much as a glimpse of actual danger in their lives."
Alec frowns slightly, a little confused where this is going. Although, clearly Magnus has noticed Alec glaring at everyone around them and he really hopes that Magnus isn't about to tell him to stop being ridiculous or anything along those lines. Alec already knows how absurd his jealousy is, no need to tell him.
The smile on Magnus' face as he reaches up to push his sunglasses up into his hair is open, warm and admittedly-slightly-amused, and perfectly matches the just-as-warm, just-as-bright, unguarded look in his eyes.
And, as always, his eyes are focused solely on Alec.
"Alexander," his smile widens. "You earn your living by regularly glaring seasoned fighters and immortal beings into submission, cowing them just with your stare alone." Okay, that's definite amusement in Magnus' voice now. "I very much doubt that anyone on this beach would be able to withstand that particular effect of your glare. If only they could see it."
He gestures vaguely at Alec's face and the sunglasses he is still wearing.
And Alec blinks, surprised.
Apparently Magnus doesn’t mind Alec’s irrational jealousy.
He feels his expression lighten, a slight smirk now tugging at his lips and then - without looking at anyone around them, far too focused on his smiling husband to care about anyone else at the moment - leans in to kiss Magnus.
Just a warm, tender, claiming kiss, before he pulls back slightly, lingers in his space for a bit, getting distracted by those specks of gold in Magnus’ eyes, the sight of his smile up close. As he always tends to do.
He just can't help but lean in for another soft, lingering kiss, before he finally leans back in his chair, and then calmly reaches up to remove his sunglasses.
Lets his eyes drift over the beach.
Catches sight of the gaping girls who were just about to wander past them again, watches the lifeguard flinch when Alec focuses on him for barely more than a second, doesn't even bother sparing the group - who suddenly seem to have collectively forgotten to continue their match - a glance.
His lips tick up slightly in a smirk.
Next to him, he can hear Magnus' warm laughter, his hand reaching for Alec's own to intertwine their fingers as he languidly stretches in his chair, muscles moving under beautiful golden skin, his entire being almost seeming to glow in the sunshine. Happy to let Alec look his fill.
But this time without a single person daring to so much as glance his husband's way.
Alec feels his grin widen, pulls on their linked hands to press a lingering kiss to Magnus' knuckles, right above his wedding band sparkling gold in the sun, effectively hiding the smirk now curling his lips as he finally relaxes fully back in his chair.
Ready to absorb the sunshine, the breeze, the atmosphere. And the sight of his beautiful husband right beside him.
Maybe coming to the beach wasn't such a bad idea after all.
He is all big eyes and shrewd mind, soft voice and sarcastic commentary, manipulation and compassion, fragility and unwavering strength, almost child-like in his enthusiasm but far too world-weary to be anything even resembling naive.
Klaus is a beautiful amalgam of contradictions and ever since that first moment – being woken by a strange noise, leaning up on his cot and being faced by the most beautiful man Dave has ever come across staring at him with huge eyes from where he is sitting on the floor – Dave has been absolutely mesmerized, spellbound even.
Within hours of his sudden appearance - the COs might not realize but the rest of them certainly knows that Klaus wasn't part of their unit before and pretty much appeared out of nowhere - everyone already knows who Klaus is, simply because it's impossible not to notice him. Klaus who is so pretty it almost seems a little unreal, who seems far too fragile to be here in what amounts to hell on earth but somehow also seems to fit better into the chaotic mess of death and desperately stubborn hope than anyone else, who somehow outshines every single other person here despite the uncertainty and darkness constantly flitting through his eyes.
Klaus' very presence is eye-catching, bright, impossible to miss. But he is less like the sun and more like a flickering fen light, a will-o'-wisp, almost whimsical in his brightness, there and gone, gone and back again, impossible to look away as you wait for another illuminating flicker of otherworldly, entrancing light, happy to follow no matter where it may lead you.
Klaus burns so brightly and Dave simply can’t seem to look away.
+++
Even that very first day after getting him equipped with everything he will need on the battlefield - and wondering how someone like him suddenly ended up here at all - Dave isn't even willing to wait until they make it off the bus that is carting them to battle.
He watches him from his seat a few rows further towards the back and after a few minutes of not being able to look away at all, Dave just can't help but move up a few rows, close enough that he can at least introduce himself.
And Klaus' voice is soft and his smile beautifully entrancing and his eyes are still slightly wide - assessing but also really fucking confused - as he turns towards Dave, just a glance at first but he must like whatever it is he sees, because within moments Dave suddenly has all of Klaus' attention focused solely on himself.
It's quite the heady feeling. He quickly realizes that he'd do most anything to keep that gaze focused on himself.
+++
Their entire unit quickly realizes that there is something off about Klaus.
Not only because he is twitchy as hell and regularly flinches away from things that aren't actually there. No, there is far more to it.
Like for example the fact that Klaus doesn't die. Or at least he doesn't stay dead.
The first time it happens, Dave only hears about Klaus' miraculous recovery from a supposedly fatal blow to the head afterwards. One of the medics had even pronounced him dead, but suddenly Klaus had been up again in their trench and acting like nothing at all had happened. They call it a miracle, not yet knowing better.
The second time something similar happens, Dave is there and almost goes out of his mind seeing Klaus lying there so still and unmoving, none of that normal ever-present energy around him. But Klaus recovers just like he did last time, going from unmoving to right-as-rain from one moment to the next. By the third time he 'dies', they have all come to terms with the fact that Klaus might not be quite as easy to kill as the rest of them.
They shrug and move on. They are in the middle of a war, comrades dying every day, so one less death to mourn - by whatever circumstances - can only be taken as a good thing in their eyes.
But then there is also the fact that they all know that Klaus sees things, things which aren't actually there. In the mornings - before he comes fully awake - Klaus has a rather disturbing tendency to greet spots of empty air like there is someone standing there or if distracted by a particularly enthusiastic discussion to walk around entirely clear spots in his path. They rib him about it - of course they do - but no one really makes a big deal of it.
They've been on the battlefield for a while now, constantly surrounded by death and destruction. None of them is particularly sane anymore, so why hassle Klaus for his bit of insanity?
And then comes the day the enemy lays a trap. They are completely taken off guard and all of them have to scramble into random directions to make it out at all. In the end, nine guys from their unit - including Dave and Klaus - get stuck in some god-forsaken part of the jungle, no idea which direction their camp might be in, three of the guys wounded - not quite fatally, but at least two of them badly enough that if they don't get help soon it might as well have been a gunshot to the head - and quickly running out of food and water.
The entire situation seems rather hopeless.
Dave - who can barely keep his eyes off Klaus on a good day, much less when there is nothing around to distract himself with - can tell that there is something off about Klaus' behavior. The other man keeps watching all of them, clearly considering, contemplating something.
They sleep on the jungle floor, doing their best to ignore the hopelessness of their situation. By morning, it's obvious that one of the guys' wounds are infected and they all know that if they don't find a way back to camp quickly to get him some help, he simply won't make it.
And Klaus sighs - rather loudly, interrupting the pessimistic, hopeless silence between them where they are all huddled in a sort of circle - and then turns slightly and starts whispering to the empty air behind him. They all watch the following argument with raised eyebrows - an argument Klaus is having with what appears to be several spots of the empty air behind him - but by the end of it Klaus claims to know how to get back.
They all stare and acceptance of Klaus' quirks or not, it's still a bit of a struggle to convince everyone to follow the clearly hallucinating lunatic. But since no one actually has a better idea - and the direction Klaus is pointing in is as good as any to try their luck - in the end they all do.
They make it back to camp in less than five hours.
Klaus leads them on a more-or-less straight path right back to camp, through the thickest jungle and without any apparent markers along the way, while also apparently arguing with one or more people none of them can see. It's admittedly a little freaky.
But, Klaus gets them back to camp. Safely. So, when asked how they managed to find their way back to camp after being gone for two days, Martens - one of the unit's bigger guys - promptly bullshits something about recognizing the part of the jungle they got stuck in from one of the scouting trips he'd been sent on and since no one has any reason not to believe him, they are simply left alone after that.
Not one of their unit breathes so much of a word of the fact that Klaus can apparently talk to invisible people who also happen to know the jungle really fucking well.
And just two weeks later, they all suddenly have an epiphany about just what it is Klaus can apparently do. An epiphany that comes when one of the Trenton twins gets killed in action.
The day after that harrowing battle which lost them two guys just from their tent, they are all sitting together morosely - having their own little memorial service which includes a whole lot of alcohol and random stories about their lost comrades being told - Klaus suddenly flinches without any apparent cause, spinning around to stare at an empty spot over his own shoulder. He stares, motionlessly, for a minute or two, tilting his head almost like he is listening to someone talk.
And then, Klaus gets up to seek out the other - and at this point near catatonic - Trenton twin, lying on his cot in the corner of the tent.
Of course, they all pretend not to listen as Klaus mediates an entire conversation of tearful goodbyes between the two brothers. A conversation between the twin who is still alive and sitting right there and the twin who is dead but apparently still around.
Yeah, it's really fucking freaky.
Still, even after that, no one breathes a word about Klaus' apparent and at least somewhat disturbing abilities to anyone outside of their unit. Because freaky or not, Klaus is also one of theirs.
And that's really all there is to it.
+++
On their day off, they go to visit the nearby town, almost their entire unit gathering in the local club. The draw of music, alcohol and women too much for anyone to resist. Well, two out of three still counts, right?
But thing is, Dave hasn't been able to look anywhere but at Klaus, dancing, swaying, wearing that slightly melancholic, somber smile that always tugs at Dave's heart, like Klaus is thinking about something not quite sad but also definitely not happy, like he is remembering something or someone. Klaus is plain beautiful, inside and out, something Dave has been aware of since the moment they met but it has only been strengthened with every additional day of knowing Klaus. He is beautiful, breathtakingly so.
So, Dave watches. He simply can't not.
And all throughout the night, Klaus has also been returning his attention in equal measure. Well, at least Dave thinks he has been, but there really isn't any way to be sure about these sorts of things.
Which makes what he does next a tremendously risky and rather stupid thing to do.
They've been sharing drinks and pretty much dancing with each other - the girls with them little more than props for appearance's sake - and now they are standing in a deserted part of the club, a little obscured from the main room by some sort of frilly curtain thing. And Klaus is standing so close and laughing at something Dave said and Dave's hand almost automatically comes up to rest against the side of Klaus' neck. Dave just can't help himself.
Because he knows he shouldn't. He knows it's too risky to come on to another soldier after meeting him only a few weeks ago, knows that he should make sure Klaus has the same proclivities as Dave himself before he makes a move.
But Klaus just leans his head into the contact, just smiles his not-quite-bright smile and Dave just can't help but apply soft pressure, enough to slowly pull him in.
They are standing in a club filled to the brim with other soldiers, but Dave feels like he simply can't go any longer without kissing Klaus.
And then, Klaus kisses him back and Dave promptly forgets why this was supposedly a bad idea in the first place.
+++
Over the months that follow, they find their own version of happiness.
Somewhere between the blood and the ever-present threat of death hanging over their heads, between despairing at the cruelty displayed by both sides of this war and losing friends, losing comrades, losing brothers, somewhere in between all of that, they manage to steal away a few moments of pure, unadulterated happiness.
And Dave's initial worry about possibly asking too much, about pushing Klaus too far too quickly proves laughably unnecessary. Turns out, between the two of them, it's Klaus who can teach Dave some things and not the other way around.
Because, hot damn, does Klaus know what he is doing. Oh, does he ever. And Dave catches more than one guy eyeing his blissed-out expression rather jealously a few times when they return to camp.
Of course, they are quiet about it. As much as no one in their unit is going to ask what exactly they get up to whenever they disappear together. The sort of quiet tolerance born from letting anyone live what could very well be their last day as they please, certainly wouldn't last if they were to actually show off their relationship to the other guys.
But, hey, their camp is in the middle of the jungle. It's not like there aren't enough hiding places around to make use of.
And they lose themselves in those little pockets of time where it is just the two of them, where nothing matters but the smile on Klaus' face and those oh-so-rare, brief moments where Dave succeeds in entirely chasing the shadows from his eyes, feeling helplessly breathless whenever he gets to see Klaus look truly, unrestrainedly happy. Like getting to see the stars glowing in the night sky, peeking out from behind obscuring clouds.
Dave falls for Klaus within weeks of knowing him, helplessly, wholly, unavoidably, is practically consumed by it. And Klaus loves him back with a sort of gentle warmth and unapologetic fierceness that has Dave helpless to simply let himself fall deeper and deeper in love each day.
But then again, why not? War actually isn't so bad if you live through it with the love of your life at your side.
+++
Klaus is beautiful and fragile and always seems to be swaying along to music no one but him can hear, forever smiling despite the ever-present grief in his eyes. He is like some sort of otherworldly, magical creature and from the moment they meet, Dave can barely rip his eyes away.
And Klaus loves him so fiercely that it takes Dave's breath away on most days, but sometimes he also gets the feeling that Klaus is mourning for someone, or at least desperately missing someone.
That feeling only intensifies over the months, as he hears Klaus mumble a certain name in his sleep more than once or watches as Klaus will sometimes suddenly grin in the middle of a conversation, like he just thought of a joke and turn slightly as if to share it with someone who should be standing there. Only for a heartbreakingly sad expression to flit over his face every time at realizing that that particular person isn't actually right beside him.
And Dave would possibly even be jealous, if it weren't for the fact that one day - when they are sitting outside in front of the town's club, smoking and more than a little drunk - Klaus simply starts telling him about his brother Ben. A brother who died when they were still teenagers but who had always been around afterwards in spite of it.
Dave doesn't ask him to elaborate, doesn't need him to. At this point, he is far too familiar with Klaus' gift to need him to spell out how his dead brother could still have stuck stubbornly, reliably to Klaus' side.
But thing is, the brother isn't there anymore. And Klaus sounds so lost when he talks about him, like his brother's presence at his side is supposed to be something unchangeable, immutable, inalterable. And now that it suddenly isn't, Klaus is floundering.
And there is something so fragile and sad and soft and tragic about Klaus' expression when he talks about the brother he is clearly missing so desperately that Dave can't help but wish he could do something to help aside from offering an open ear to any and all stories Klaus wants to tell him about his missing brother. Stories which barely even make sense more often than not, like Dave is missing far too much context about Klaus' life to make sense of it, references to things - like historic figures or technology or music or even movies - that don't actually exist to Dave's knowledge.
Almost like Klaus' home is in a different world entirely. Almost like Klaus doesn't belong here at all.
And Dave suddenly gets it.
Somehow Dave realizes that whatever stroke of luck threw him into Dave's world, Klaus isn't actually for him, won't be able to stay with him forever. And after that epiphany, sometimes Dave can almost feel the tether that is pulling at Klaus, pulling him back towards where he came from.
From that day on, Dave knows. Knows that at some point in time, Klaus will leave him, will be torn away, not necessarily by choice but simply by circumstance.
So, Dave resolves to be grateful for every day he gets to spend with him, with this beautiful man with the beautiful mind and a breathtakingly beautiful soul. He is glad for every morning he wakes to see Klaus still there, still sleeping on the cot next to his and every night before he falls asleep he prays to please get another day to spend with him.
Still, he can see that Klaus is actively fighting whatever it is that makes his eyes look so haunted, like he knows he should be somewhere else, like he knows he should go back.
And while Dave knows that Klaus will leave at some point, plainly put, he doesn't think he'll be able to bear losing him, not quite able to even imagine his world anymore without Klaus in it.
So, when after the happiest ten months of Dave's life, constantly surrounded by war or not, his luck on the battlefield finally runs out, and the last thing he gets to see - as the red-hot searing pain shooting through him steadily turns into ice-cold numbness instead - is Klaus leaning over him, tears in his beautiful eyes, desperation in his voice as he calls his name, Dave thinks it's only fitting that this is how it would end for him.
He already got to experience more happiness in these past months than he ever thought he'd get in a lifetime.
And really, there are worse things than taking your last breaths while cradled in the arms of the person you've come to love more than life itself.
Not because he is particularly strong or resilient or anything of the sort. But Klaus has long-since learned how to bend, how to give in, how to be so soft that there is no power in this world capable of breaking him. Like water slipping through your fingers. Like mist, intangible, always just evading your grasp.
And he guards himself not behind walls but behind ghostly smoke and phantom mirrors. Hides himself in plain sight, by shoving everything he is right into everyone’s face so that no one can tell the important bits from those that don’t quite matter anymore.
Klaus is excellent at that, at being so colorful, so eccentric, so in-your-face that people always do their best to look past him, always forgetting to look closer instead.
He is loud and bright and cheerful. So loud that you tune him out, forget to listen and thus don't hear anything he says, don’t hear him talk about the things that matter, so bright that you avert your eyes and thus don't see the chinks in his armor, so cheerful that you miss the grief in his eyes.
He is obvious and carefree and constantly moving. So obvious about his addictions that you forget to ask why he takes drugs in the first place, so carefree that you forget the very real sorrow that haunts his every step, so free that you forget to ask what it is that shackles him here.
Constantly moving, always flitting and twirling about, humming along to music no one can hear, tapping out a rhythm, dancing to a nonexistent tune. And as he twirls his way through life, everyone forgets to ask themselves just who it is he might be dancing with.
Because people rarely remember that it isn’t only his ghosts that haunt him.
Klaus dances through life, one foot in the real world and one foot well into the realm of ghosts and spirits, already having been taken apart too far, having broken too often, having lost too many pieces of himself along the way, for the jagged edges of the parts he managed to gather back together to fit well enough to make a whole anymore anyway.
And something that isn't whole also cannot be broken.
So, just like the ghosts that forever surround him, already having lost most everything of themselves but whatever remains now treasured beyond anything else and untouchable to the real world.
(An absolutely shameless fix-it fic, based on the random thought of: But what if Magnus and Alec had already met during that Pandemonium scene in the very first episode?)
Read on AO3: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Magnus watches as Alexander steps past him onto the balcony of his loft, still a little surprised that he suddenly has his lovely Shadowhunter in his loft, all to himself, without any distractions around.
Magnus forces himself to focus back to his bar cart, so he can actually see what he is doing while he prepares their drinks.
After their walk Magnus had asked Alexander whether he would like to come up for drinks and the Shadowhunter had easily agreed. Almost like it wasn't even a question, like he had just assumed that tonight was going to continue.
And Magnus more than approves of the mindset.
They are teetering at that point right between casual getting-to-know-each-other and making this into something more.
Even before tonight, it had been oh-so-clear that there was something between them, all those conversations and exchanged messages making that more than apparent. And now, with the wonderful dinner date they just had and their legs staying pressed together under the table and with the hand-holding and the walking close, they have reached that point where their attraction to each other, that spark between them, just isn’t a question anymore.
And Magnus is absolutely certain that he himself wants more, really wants to try turning this into a relationship, wants to see whether they could have something real and true and lasting. So, he would love to just take the next step, has been fighting with himself all night to refrain from just stepping up to the Shadowhunter and pulling him in for a kiss.
But.
Magnus also knows that the situation is a little more complex than just making up his mind on whether he likes Magnus as well on Alexander’s end.
Because he is well aware that Alexander being interested in him is one thing, while Alexander being willing to actually date him - to deal with the inevitable conflict he will have to face if he really decides to be in a relationship with a Downworlder and a male one at that - is something else entirely.
Which doesn't even take Magnus’ recent and very clear impression into account that Alexander might not have quite as much experience with relationships as one would assume for someone as self-assured and as ridiculously gorgeous as Alexander.
Which only serves to strengthen Magnus' resolution not to push Alexander into anything.
So instead, Magnus resolves to make his own attraction - his interest in making this thing between them into something more than just a casual acquaintance - unquestionably clear tonight. And then he will back off and give Alexander all the time he needs to make up his mind, to make a decision.
Magnus will make it clear tonight that he is right here, here to stay and absolutely willing to wait, for however long it takes. Because Magnus can tell already that what they could have is worth the wait and he has nothing if not time.
Well, Magnus also tries to remind himself not to get his hopes up too much, that they haven't yet talked about it, have yet to even so much as kiss. He tries to remind himself that there is a very realistic chance that if truly faced with that choice Alexander might still decide against committing to Magnus, if only to please his parents or to avoid the hassle he will inevitably have to deal with if he decides to date a Downworlder. Magnus tries to remind himself of all that.
Well, 'tries' very much being the keyword here.
Because when he finally follows Alexander outside - their freshly prepared drinks in hand - and looks up, he just kind of stops short at the sight that greets him.
Alexander leaning sideways against the parapet, calmly looking out over the city, only part of his face visible to Magnus, his form backlit by the countless flickering lights of Brooklyn at night.
He is so incredibly, breathtakingly gorgeous.
And when he spots Magnus from the corner of his eyes, he turns his head towards him fully, a small but honest and open smile lighting up his face, the sight quite literally makes Magnus' heart skip a beat.
By magic, this one has me so caught, I might as well throw in the towel now.
Thankfully, he at least manages to stick with his resolution from a few minutes ago and refrains from just dropping both of the glasses in his hands to reach out for Alexander and pull him in for a kiss.
He resists. Even if only barely.
Instead, he swallows once and then takes the remaining few steps to reach the Shadowhunter’s side, handing over one of the glasses and then holds out his own to clink against.
Alexander smiles, tries the drink and promptly pulls that adorable little grimace of his. So damn adorable.
And apparently martini isn't to his tastes, maybe I should prepare something a little sweeter next time?
Of course the Shadowhunter doesn't actually say anything, just turns back to watch the city at night, his profile once more illuminated by countless city lights, dark eyes calmly gazing out over the river.
And Magnus is happy to just join him, basking in this moment of almost surreal peace and quiet, standing right here next to Alexander, close enough for their arms to be touching, silently enjoying the beautiful night and the even better company.
+++
Alec has absolutely no idea what time it is. He also doesn’t much care.
He knows that they've been back at Magnus' loft for a while now and they had cocktails on the balcony and once those were gone, Magnus prepared another round - Alec liked the second kind of cocktail much better - and they took those drinks with them to settle in the seating area on the terrace instead.
And they’ve just been sitting outside, enjoying the warm night air, talking and laughing and discussing and even arguing at some points. And from time to time there are even breaks in their conversation, comfortable silences which neither of them really feels the need to fill, before they just naturally find something else to talk about, easily falling into yet another new conversation.
Alec kind of absolutely adores this, has enjoyed the entire evening, mind you, but this right here, this is simply perfect. He can’t remember ever feeling so comfortable before, so relaxed, so truly himself.
And the longer they sit there, talking, entirely focused on each other, the less all those other things that usually crowd Alec’s brain seem to matter, just falling away. Alec can barely rip his eyes away from Magnus and the warlock has been returning his attention in equal measure all night.
By the angel, is it like this for everyone? Reality narrowing down to just that one person across from you? Their presence taking up your entire field of vision to the point where you can't see anything beyond them anymore? Everything else just somehow fading into the background until it's just the two of you?
And they sit and they talk and they laugh. And not once does Alec bother checking the time, simply uncaring what time it is or just how long they've spent together at this point, unbothered by losing track of time entirely.
Which also means that he has absolutely no idea at what point of the night he falls asleep on Magnus’ couch.
Alec just knows that they were talking and then next thing he is waking up on one of the couches in Magnus’ living room, covered by a fluffy blue blanket.
Alec blinks, pushing himself to sit up slightly as he looks around with bleary eyes. It's clearly morning already, the early morning sun bathing the living room in a warm orange glow.
Where is Magnus?
He pauses for barely a moment but then he proceeds to actively ignore the fact that just now, his actual first thought after waking was about Magnus. Alec’s mind is still far too sleep-addled to want to consider the implications of that particular development.
And barely a second later - almost as if called by his thoughts - Magnus appears in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs of what smells deliciously like coffee.
“Good morning, Alexander,” he says brightly. “I hope you slept well,”
The warlock is already perfectly dressed and styled, looking just as amazing as always in a dark-red, long, kind of Asian-style shirt with gold patterns, several necklaces and rings, his hair swooping upwards and then to the side, golden highlights at the tips, a few strands falling into his face almost like a fringe and is that gold glitter lining his eyes?
Alec just blinks at him for a moment as his brain tries to catch up, feeling almost a little blinded by the sight.
It’s like trying to look directly at the sun, he thinks a bit dazedly.
A fitting comparison if ever there was one. Magnus really seems about ready to out-shine the morning sun that is coming in from the outside.
How can someone already look this pretty this early in the morning? Alec thinks to himself a little helplessly. How is that in any way fair?
Magnus does his best not to coo at the absolutely adorable sight of the Shadowhunter on his couch, looking all sleep-rumpled and soft and lovely with his messy hair and only partially open eyes, blinking up at him slowly.
Instead, he just smiles brightly and thinks that it really is a good thing that his hands are currently full with mugs of hot coffee or he honestly might have been unable to keep himself from touching. Really, he deserves some sort of reward for managing to resist.
Finally, Alexander clears his throat, greeting in return, "Mornin’."
And Magnus promptly has to suppress an appreciative shiver at the gravelly quality of Alexander's still sleep-rough voice.
Oh yes, definitely a fan.
He just holds out one of the mugs in his hands - which is immediately and rather eagerly taken from him – to the Shadowhunter, takes a seat himself and remarks, "We must have fallen asleep at some point last night."
The comment just gets him a nod and nothing else. Clearly, Alexander is even less of a talker in the morning than he is at any other time of the day. And apparently, Alexander also doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all at having unintentionally slept over, clearly not bothered in the least, just taking everything in stride as always.
And Magnus tries to tamp down on his smile as he watches Alexander curl around the mug in his hands, inhaling the aroma of the coffee with a rather blissed-out expression. He is just so absolutely, stupidly endeared with this boy.
Yes, I so deserve a reward for keeping my hands to myself.
"Would you like some breakfast before you have to leave? Or do you have to get back to the Institute right away?" he asks as casually as he can, trying not to sound too eager. Then, he can't help but add the small incentive of, "I already prepared a small spread."
And Magnus truly limited himself to a rather small selection of breakfast foods for once - fully aware that his tastes tend to lean towards the extravagant and still a little worried that he might overwhelm his occasionally somewhat skittish Shadowhunter - despite even the most grandiose selection of foods being just a few flicks of his fingers to Magnus.
But having to decide between fresh croissants from Paris and those delicious pancakes from that restaurant in Chicago really is a small sacrifice to make, if it means Alexander feels entirely comfortable here.
Well, he just can't help but want to spoil Alexander at least a little, even if Magnus doesn't quite dare being too obvious about it yet.
And so what if Magnus just took a little round-trip to Spain a few minutes ago, just so he could get them a cup of coffee from that little place in Barcelona where they have the best damn coffee he has ever tasted.
It's not like Magnus actually has to tell Alexander that he just skipped across the Atlantic just to make sure Alexander gets a really nice cup of coffee to start his day with, now does he?
+++
Alec decides that he can definitely spare another thirty minutes to grab a quick breakfast with Magnus before he has to take off again, seeing as it really is still rather early in the morning.
And then there is also the fact that there is just no way of knowing how soon they'll manage to actually see each other again. Going by the past few days, there is no sense in even trying to plan ahead, at least not as long as Clary and Jace are running around, making a mess of everything they so much as look at.
So, Alec is just not quite willing to leave yet, to go back to the real world and bury himself in missions and reports once more, without any clue when they'll be able meet again.
A nice breakfast seems like a perfect way to end their - admittedly rather extended - date.
But his decision to stay just a little logner is also the reason why Alec entirely misses his mother's arrival at the Institute.
He only hears about it afterwards, while drinking his second cup of truly excellent coffee and smiling at Magnus, who is still giggling slightly at one of the embarrassing childhood stories Alec just told him about his siblings. Puberty truly is kind to no one and as the oldest sibling Alec has the privilege of knowing all the embarrassing details for all three of his siblings. It makes for some excellent stories. Not to even mention the blackmail material.
So, Alec is still smiling when his phone dings with a new message. It's from Izzy.
‘Heads-up: Mom is back. As always, she’s in a mood. Jace and I have been sent on a diplomatic mission with the seelies. And before anyone could check, I also signed you in for that early morning patrol you are obviously on right now.’
Alec stares at the text for a few seconds. His mother is back at the Institute? Damnit.
He had honestly hoped that his parents might stay away a little longer, would give Alec a little more time to figure himself out, if only to better prepare himself for the fight ahead of him.
A fight which is entirely unavoidable at this point, not only in regards to all those unsanctioned missions but even more so once his parents realize that Alec finally has something he might not be willing to simply shove aside just to conform to their ideal image of him .
Just the fact that he is gay is already going to be enough of a fight, but add to that the fact that Alexander is also rather infatuated with a warlock of all people... yeah, the fight is truly unavoidable at this point.
Of course, the one morning where Alec for the absolute first time in his life is doing something entirely for himself, is the exact point in time his parents decide to check up on them. How typical.
Still, at least he can count on Izzy to cover for him. Apparently, by claiming that the reason for his absence is him already being out working.
And Alec finds definite amusement in the fact that this is certainly not the first time that Izzy and him have exchanged messages exactly like this before. But until now it has always been Alec who was covering for Izzy - claiming she was on patrol or on a mission or meditating or not to be disturbed in her room for whatever reason whenever their parents were looking for her while she was actually out doing something not-so-Shadowhunterish - and not the other way around.
But, isn't that what siblings are for? Having your back?
So, he just texts back a simple, ‘Thanks.’
Izzy’s reply is prompt. ‘I want details once you get back.'
Alec quirks a grin. ‘Yeah, not going to happen.’
‘Spoilsport.’
He can practically see the pout she must be wearing right now.
Angel, does he love his sister.
+++
Magnus watches as Alexander shrugs into his jacket.
Their undisturbed time with each other has finally run out. And he would love to keep the Shadowhunter a little longer – always ‘just a little longer’ with this one - but it’s sadly unavoidable that they have to part at some point, what with both of them having rather stressful day jobs that require quite a bit of their attention.
Even more so, now that the elder Lightwoods are apparently back in the city.
Magnus promptly pushes that thought aside. He can worry about what sort of an effect the return of his parents might have on Alexander later. Magnus can only hope that this still so very new and fragile connection between them will survive the elder Lightwoods’ presence.
Sure, so far Alexander has proven himself to be utterly self-assured in his own choices, including spending time with Magnus and not even making much of a secret out of it. But it is an indisputable fact that there are few influences in life greater than that of a parent. Magnus would know.
And the fact remains, that they still haven't defined what they are or what they could be or what they want this to be. So, who knows what Alexander will make of it now that his parents are back.
There simply isn’t anything Magnus can do about it. He is already in far too deep to try pulling back now, to put some of his defenses - which Alexander bypassed so effortlessly - back up to protect himself, to protect his heart. It truly is too late for that. So, Magnus has no other choice but to simply wait and see how this plays out, to see whether he'll have a chance at actual real happiness again or whether he'll have to deal with the fallout of letting himself get so very invested so quickly.
It's simply out of his hands now. If he is entirely honest, Magnus might never have been holding any of the cards to begin with. Alexander had him caught pretty much the moment their eyes met that night at Pandemonium.
So, he pushes the thoughts of all that might go wrong soon aside and instead focuses on these last few undisturbed minutes they have left before Alexander has to go.
He looks at the Shadowhunter, who also seems rather distracted right now, clearly caught up in his own thoughts, possibly even thinking along similar lines as Magnus, about what his parents’ return might mean for them.
Alexander had refused his offer of a portal, so as not to undermine his own alibi as provided by the lovely Isabelle of having been on patrol if someone were to see him step out of a portal in front of the Institute. Instead, he said he'd actually patrol the city for a bit - to make up for slacking - and then make his way back as he usually would when coming back from patrol.
Always the consummate Shadowhunter. Magnus just smiles fondly and finally reaches out to pull open the door for him.
Alec is about to leave.
After what might have been the best night of his life – and yes, he is fully aware how that sounds – his uninterrupted time with Magnus is pretty much over now. The dinner and the walk and the drinks and the talking and the nice but short breakfast this morning, everything was just pretty much perfect.
And now he is about to leave.
But then there is the fact that his mind keeps nudging at him, reminding him that this is the third time he has gone out with Magnus, the third time they spend hours talking while pretty much ignoring the rest of the world, not to even mention their countless texts and lengthy phone conversations. And at this point it’s not even a question anymore whether he wants to make this thing with Magnus into something more.
Hell, whenever they aren’t spending time with each other in one way or another, Alec can still barely even drag his thoughts away from the warlock.
And Alec has been thinking about it, about defining their relationship as more. But he is also a little clueless how to go about getting there. Sure, Magnus has made it so very absolutely clear last night that he is definitely interested in more, but the warlock made it just as clear that he is leaving it up to Alec to take the next step, that he is not going to push for anything and is just happy to take whatever Alec is willing to offer him.
Which is a nice sentiment and all but it also means that it’s now up to Alec to figure out the next step. And excuse him for being a little clueless here. All of this is entirely new to him, the dating and the handholding and the talking and the flirting. Alec just doesn’t know what the social conventions for taking the next step are.
All he knows is that he does want to take this further, that he does want more.
And he just spent an entire night staring at Magnus, at the sinuous movements of his hands, his warm eyes, his smile.
His lips.
Alec just really wants to kiss him. It's pretty much all he has been able to think about for days now. Kissing Magnus. He wants to know how Magnus' lips will feel against his, wants it so much he sometimes loses himself in thinking about it for minutes at a time.
But how do you go about kissing someone you've never kissed before? Do you ask? That seems a little awkward to be honest. But just pulling someone into a kiss without warning doesn't seem the best idea either.
But then, Magnus is pulling the door to the loft open for him, saying something and smiling at him warmly, and suddenly Alec's time is up.
"Hopefully we'll see each other again soon," Magnus says with a smile, holding the door open and not letting any of his doubts about what might happen once Alexander leaves show on his face. He turns slightly to fully face the Shadowhunter again, wanting to make sure Alexander knows just how much Magnus enjoyed their date. "I truly enjoyed this and I would love to do it again. Just let me know, whenever you have-"
He trails off.
Because the look in Alexander's eyes has changed, something intent and determined and eager and almost a little hungry in his gaze which keeps flicking between Magnus' eyes and his lips.
Then the Shadowhunter is taking a step closer to him, another. One of his hands comes up to settle lightly on Magnus’ shoulder. And then Alexander is slowly pulling him in for a kiss.
It takes Magnus not even a second to get with the program - magic, has he been waiting for this - letting one of his hands come up to lay against the side of Alexander's neck, the other settling on his waist.
And he can't help but smile slightly into the kiss, as warmth and relief and joy spread in his chest. Alexander made his choice. Alexander wants him.
The kiss is everything Alec has imagined and at the same time so much more than he ever dared to expect.
It’s just a rather chaste press of lips at first. But it changes, their lips moving against each other and, angel, it feels good.
Magnus' lips are soft and warm and Alec takes another step closer, and another, following Magnus' movement until the warlock is leaning back against the door, one of Alec's hands against the wood next to his head.
Alec doesn't know how long the kiss lasts. It might be just a few moments or minutes or even longer.
And then, Magnus’ hand on the side of his neck shifts slightly, his thumb running slowly, gently along Alec’s cheekbone, and Alec just helplessly steps even closer, entirely losing track of reality for a bit.
+++
Magnus is still standing in the open door to his loft, slowly swiping his thumb over his lower lip, feeling a ridiculously wide, happy smile spread over his face as he stares in the direction where Alexander just disappeared down the corridor.
Alexander just kissed him.
No preamble, no hesitation, just a kiss. Long and slow and testing.
And then the Shadowhunter had pulled back, enough to be able to meet his eyes, just staying focused on each other for another few moments. Finally, Alexander had given a decisive nod and with an almost neutral sounding "I'll call you tonight." had then left rather quickly.
Although, not before Magnus got a nice view of that really rather adorable blush on Alexander's cheeks.
Magnus just feels his grin widen. Goodness, what this boy does to me.
(”Um, hi, Magnus? It’s Klaus.” A pause. “I kind of... I need your help.)
Read on AO3: Chapter 1, chapter 2
Ben watches with his siblings as the adults file out of their hospital room.
Klaus and Allison's purposely obvious yawning had convinced the nurses that the dear, poor children needed some more rest and thus they are now being given some more 'time to recover'.
Being children again certainly makes manipulating others much easier than it had been as adults.
Of course, before leaving the social workers had also asked them for Magnus’ number – probably wanting to make sure that Klaus’ story checks out – and Ben had joined the others in looking at them as if they were insane for assuming that in the age of cell phones they would know anyone’s number by heart.
Well, of course Ben and Klaus do in fact know Magnus’ number. Even if Klaus ever forgot, there is no way Ben wouldn’t make sure to remember the number of the one person he knows will always come to his brother’s aid, whether he be in prison, the hospital, rehab, just stranded on the side of the road or on the other side of the world. So yeah, of course they know the number.
But they also need to buy themselves a little bit of time, need the social workers to be distracted for a bit. So they have a chance to call Magnus first, preferably before he is contacted by social services regarding the seven kids he is supposedly fostering.
Always happy to help or not, even Magnus might need at least some sort of warning for this.
So, the two social workers retreat to the corridor - with a whole lot of reassurances about not having to worry about anything at all and that the adults will get everything sorted out in no time - to try and find Magnus’ number in the registry, which really shouldn't take all that long, seeing as there aren’t going to be all that many Magnus Banes living in New York much less specifically in Brooklyn.
And as soon as they are alone, Klaus immediately scrambles over to the landline in the room and the rest of them follows, crowding around the bedside table with him.
“Who is ‘Magnus’?” Luther immediately demands, throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure that none of the adults are close enough to overhear.
Klaus, who is busy punching the number into the phone, pauses, then glances at Ben, clearly failing to come up with a way to adequately describe Magnus Bane.
Ben just shrugs at him. He can’t think of a way to put all that is Magnus into words - and actually do the man justice - either.
Klaus hums and turns back to the others, opening his mouth and clearly about to say something. But then he pauses once more, glances back at Ben, as a rather amused expression starts to spread over his face.
Only then does Ben remember that he is actually alive again, that he is not a ghost anymore, that he can now make himself heard and doesn’t have to rely on Klaus all the time.
But excuse them for maybe forgetting. This sort of thing - Klaus being asked a question, pretending to hem and haw over his answer as he waits for Ben to give an indication of his thoughts on the matter, and then more often than not answering with some sort of mix of both their opinions on any given topic - is simply ingrained at this point.
They've been doing exactly this since they were teenagers, ever since Ben died, for almost fifteen years now.
And to them, nothing has really changed. Ben has always been right at Klaus' side. Klaus who has always been able to see him and has always treated him as though Ben were just as present, just as real as any living person around them.
So for them, the fact that their siblings are suddenly able to see Ben as well doesn't really change anything at all. And, yeah, it might even take the two of them a bit to get used to this whole Ben-being-alive-again business.
So, Ben just shrugs at Klaus, giving a sardonic little smile, and his brother's lips promptly quirk in a grin as well.
Then, they turn towards their other siblings once more. Only to are faced with several rather intent looks as their siblings clearly try to decipher what just went on between them. Yeah, good luck with that. They'll just have to get used to the fact that after spending more than a decade stuck with just each other, Klaus and Ben can easily fit an entire conversation - including a small existential crisis on Ben's end - into just a few glances.
Klaus just ignores their siblings staring and instead finally answers Luther's question. “Magnus helped me before, back when I first ran away from home and was living on the streets for a bit.”
Ben sees a rather suspicious frown immediately overtake Diego's face. He can even guess just what Diego is likely thinking. With that phrasing Klaus just made Magnus sound like he might be one of his drug dealer friends.
Magnus a drug dealer. Ben almost wants to snort at the mere idea. Yeah, that’s so far from the truth it’s almost laughable. Quite the opposite is true actually.
Everyone who lives on or works the streets of New York knows that the area around Magnus’ apartment complex is completely off limits for drug dealing. Sure, normal people don’t know just why that particular area is off limits and they most likely have never even heard the name Magnus Bane before much less know that it has something to do with him, but the fact remains that there is a drug-free zone right smack in the middle of Brooklyn. It's a safe zone.
And Ben doesn’t know whether that perimeter has always existed or whether Magnus only set it up after Klaus – fifteen and already neck-deep in the drug scene, but not yet having quite gotten into any of the really hard stuff - moved in with him, maybe trying to remove the very real temptation for Klaus of having dealers camping out right in front of their home. Either way, by the time Ben realized it was there at all, the drug-free safe area had already become a well-kept secret amongst those living on New York’s streets.
Even New York’s criminal underground doesn’t try moving in on that part of the city anymore. Misfortune tends to follow those who do.
So, yeah, imagining Magnus as a drug dealer just seems entirely ludicrous to Ben.
But before he can speak up to reassure Diego – which he has to remind himself once more, is something he can do now, speak up and just communicate with all of his siblings if he chooses to – Allison is already interjecting, clearly concerned about something entirely different.
"And you think this Magnus would just help us? All of us?” she asks, skeptical but also with a certain amount of urgency in her voice, clearly so very worried about them getting separated. “He won't care about the fact that you are younger than you should be, younger than when you must have been when he actually met you. Or that you’ll be bringing six siblings along with you?"
But Klaus just grins at her cheerfully, waving his hand dismissively, phone pressed to his ear as he waits for someone to pick up at the other end. "Ah, don't you worry about that, he won’t even blink at the age thing. I don’t think there is anything in this world that could truly surprise Magnus.”
Ben quirks a smile of his own, commenting sardonically, "Even less so if you’re involved."
“Hey, might I remind you that you were there as well!” Klaus promptly protests in mock offense.
Ben shrugs with a grin. Trying to ignore the fact that he suddenly has the full attention of their three other siblings.
Ben just raises his eyebrows at them. He can already guess what it is that has them all frowning slightly.
Most likely, they are just now realizing that with the timeline they are being given - of Klaus having met Magnus after running away from home a few months after Ben’s death - by all rights, Ben shouldn't actually know Magnus. Because Ben would have already been dead by the time Klaus met him.
And Ben just wants to sigh.
He can already see a rather uncomfortable conversation in their collective future. A conversation where he will have to explain to his siblings that, yes, he has in fact spent the past years almost constantly at Klaus’ side and, yes, all those times Klaus claimed Ben to be right there with them, Ben had in fact been right there.
Honestly, Ben just never understood why their siblings had - right from the very start - so absolutely refused to believe Klaus' claim regarding Ben’s presence. Their brother who could talk to the dead was claiming to be talking to their dead brother. It just seemed to be such an obvious, logical conclusion to him.
But then again, Ben might be a little biased, seeing as he is also the dead brother in question.
Either way, Ben isn’t necessarily looking forward to that particular discussion. Of course, his siblings will be sorry for ignoring him for more than a decade and there are probably going to be a whole lot of apologies from everyone. Which is nice and all, but the part that Ben already knows will tick him off the most, will be that most if not all of those apologies will be directed at Ben instead of Klaus.
Klaus who had decided only weeks after Ben's return as a spirit that their siblings ignoring Ben only meant Klaus should give him even more attention, which meant that Klaus would talk freely over anyone else while conversing with Ben, which only served to annoy their siblings even more at his constant claims about Ben's presence, making them Klaus out, which had at some point turned into them disregarding pretty much anything Klaus said at any point no matter what it was actually about.
And Klaus hadn't cared, had just continued in the same vein, namely giving Ben all of his attention whenever Ben asked for it. And their siblings had just continued rolling their eyes at him, dismissing him, disregarding everything he said. For no other reason than Klaus claiming to be using the abilities everyone knew he had.
So, yes, Ben loves all of his siblings. He really, truly does. But he is definitely also quite painfully aware of their selective blind spots regarding their most eccentric brother.
Although, maybe now they’ll learn. Now that they’ve seen just how mistaken they’ve been over the years by dismissing Klaus, maybe now they’ll finally start to listen to him again.
And, well, if they don’t - if they continue in the same vein, if they refuse to learn from this - then Ben is finally able to make himself heard again and more than able - and absolutely willing - to beat some sense into their siblings from this point forward.
But either way, this certainly isn’t the time for that particular discussion, so Ben doesn’t react to their sudden focus on him beyond raising his eyebrows at them, keeping his face otherwise neutral.
And good lord, it really does feel nice to finally be able to communicate his thoughts on any matters to people without having to ask Klaus to be his medium.
And reassuringly, something about Ben's reaction, something about his easy, unreserved approval of Magnus, seems to also reassure their siblings, making even Diego relax once more.
And then, Klaus' attention very obviously diverts to the phone in his hand as someone finally picks up at the other end and they all crowd around even closer, wanting to hear as well.
“Magnus Bane,” an oh-so-familiar voice says. It almost gives Ben pause for a moment. God, it has been so long since he heard that voice.
Klaus clearly has the same problem, taking a moment before he finally manages to respond, “Hi, Magnus? It's Klaus."
There is a brief pause.
“Klaus?” Magnus then asks, sounding at least a little startled. “Well, you sound… different.”
Ah, right. The de-ageing thing.
“Um, yeah.” Klaus hesitates, clearly somewhat uncertain how to continue. But finally he just shrugs and says, “Magnus, I kind of... We need your help.”
There is a slightly longer pause and some rustling on the other end as Magnus probably puts aside whatever he had been doing before.
“Alright,” he then says slowly, carefully, worriedly. “What do you need, sweetheart?”
And he sounds so honestly worried and, god, Ben hadn’t even realized until now just how much he missed the warlock and his uncompromising concern for their well-being, his unreserved willingness to help. And yes, Ben had always been very much included in Magnus' worrying as well, spirit or not.
Magnus is actually the one person beside Klaus who always simply treated like Ben's presence was absolutely normal, as though his spirit's presence was worth just as much now as it had been while Ben had still been alive. And the unreserved acceptance from another person beside his brother had been worth more to his fifteen year old, so very recently deceased self, than Ben can possibly put into words.
“I have…” Klaus pauses and going by the look in his eyes, Ben isn't at all alone in his sudden realization of just how much he missed Magnus. His brother breathes out and then just comes right out with it. “You are about to receive a call from social services about the seven children you are currently fostering. Children which include me, the ever-so-elusive Ben and the rest of my siblings, in all our not-quite-teenaged-but-oh-so-spectacular glory."
There is a pause. And then they can hear quiet laughter at the other end. “Well, it seems like you certainly have quite the story to tell."
Klaus just grins, clearly relieved at the easy acceptance. As much as they had expected Magnus to just go along with this, it's still reassuring to have it confirmed.
“Oh, do I ever,” Klaus says with a rather dramatic sigh.
Some more quiet laughter. “So, where exactly am I picking the lot of you up?”
Which has all of them just look at each other rather cluelessly as they realize they don’t even know which hospital they are currently in. There is a bit of scrambling and finally Luther finds a hospital pamphlet and they quickly pass on the information.
"Alright, I'll be there soon," Magnus says. "Anything else?"
Klaus quickly adds on, “Well, social services are already here. And they seem rather intent on carting us off to god-knows-where.”
“Oh dear," Magnus says and there is some more rustling at the other end, the warlock clearly already in motion. "It'll take me a bit to get things sorted but I should be there within the hour. Just stay where you are and I'll see you in a bit. And say hi to Ben for me.” And then the line clicks, only the dial tone remaining before Klaus cheerfully hangs up.
Ben just smiles.
That’s Magnus for you. Help first, ask questions later.
And Ben can see Luther frowning and Diego’s eyebrows rising on his forehead in surprise, both of them clearly baffled at the apparently so easy acceptance.
“Within the hour?" Diego asks incredulously. "I thought you said he lives in Brooklyn?”
“Oh, he does, but that's not really a problem for Magnus,” Klaus says as he waves a hand dismissively and then proceeds to pull Ben back towards the bed, settling on it crossed-legged as Ben lets his feet dangle over the edge, sitting close enough for their shoulder to touch and for one of Klaus’ knees to rest halfway on Ben’s thighs.
To Ben, the points of contact feel grounding, an assurance that he is truly alive again, that he is real.
They hear Luther ask Allison quietly, “How can traveling here from Brooklyn not be a problem if he is planning on coming here so quickly and get everything sorted?”
And Ben and Klaus just share a not-so-secret smile. Their siblings are about to learn that the seven of them are not nearly as special as they’ve always been led to believe, no matter what abilities they may have.
Introducing their siblings to the Shadowworld should turn out to be amusing at the very least.
+++
Klaus thinks that life couldn't actually get much better right now.
Sure, being a kid again hadn’t necessarily been on his wish list, but their collective de-aging also got him Ben back. So, there is absolutely no way Klaus is ever even going to complain about it in any manner, as much as the thought of going through puberty again already makes him shudder.
And on top of having Ben back, Klaus is also about to see Magnus again. Magnus who has always been his guarantee of a way out, that absolute safe place in the back of his mind, safe in the knowledge that if Klaus ever got himself into a situation he truly couldn't get himself out of, Magnus was just a phone call away and would immediately come to his aid, no matter what.
And now, not only is he going to get to see Magnus, but the warlock is also going to take them in - it's not even a question in Klaus' mind whether Magnus will offer doing exactly that, the man always being far too willing to help anyone in need - which means that they will be safe. Completely and utterly safe.
As long as they are with Magnus, nothing will be able to so much as touch them, of that Klaus is absolutely sure.
And he hasn't had that sort of assurance ever since his tremendously idiotic decision to leave Magnus’ loft and follow Mike onto the streets, thinking he had found the love of his life. By the time Klaus realized that Mike had only been aiming to get him fully hooked on every drug known to man, he had been in too deep and far too ashamed to go crawling back to Magnus, despite knowing that the man would immediately have taken him back in.
Pride is a really shitty thing to have sometimes.
But point is, Klaus has Ben at his side – alive! - and he is about to get Magnus back as well and he even has the rest of his siblings right here with him. That's three for three. Honestly if this time travel thing keeps going in this vein, then Klaus might just become a fan after all.
So, he just happily watches the happenings outside their door from where he is sitting right next to Ben on the bed.
The social workers came to check on them and then 'forgot' to close the door behind them again, most likely wanting to make sure that they don't get up to any sort of trouble, possibly able to sense the troublemakers in them. Which is admittedly entirely fair.
And it's not like Klaus or his siblings actually care about the door being left open. It actually gives them a nice view of the corridor, the nurses' station and the going-ons in front of their room.
And then as promised, only about forty minutes after the phone call, they see one of the social workers disappear down the hallway only to return a few minutes later. With company.
“I am sorry for the mix-up, Mr. Bane, but we were working under the assumption that they didn’t have a place to stay. A note in their hospital files indicates that one of them told the police that there wasn’t anyone they could call, so we just assumed...”
And then there is the voice that Klaus knows so very well, coming closer.
“I can certainly accept that something like this could happen, Ms. White." Magnus pauses for effect, the coming 'but' hanging in the air. "However, please do not try to blame my children for the confusion, no matter what the police report might say. They are children. It should not be on them to make sure that any agencies, the hospital or the police have their information straight. I have been worried sick, so of course I'm happy to find out that they've been safe here the entire time. But I would very much like to request that their mysteriously disappeared medical files be found as soon as possible, lest something like this happen again.”
"Yes, of course, Mr. Bane," the woman assures quickly."I will personally make sure of it."
Klaus is already grinning.
That’s Magnus alright, whirlwinding his way into the situation, sounding absolutely reasonable while making things up on the fly, dazzling everyone around him to the point that they don’t even realize they’ve entirely lost control until everything is already said and done.
And as colorful as Magnus may appear to other people, as eccentric as he dresses, as much flourish as he puts into even the simplest of his actions, Klaus has never seen anyone around him even consider dismissing him or anything Magnus has to say. There is just something about the warlock that makes people take note, that makes them listen.
It's certainly an enviable quality to have.
+++
Diego watches the doorway, not quite sure what to expect.
Don't get him wrong, it's truly convenient that this acquaintance of Klaus' - and Ben's, don't ever fucking forget Ben! - can apparently get them out of this mess without much of a struggle.
But then Klaus mentioned having met this guy while living on the streets after running away from home. And Diego's mind had immediately taken a darker turn.
Because he knows for a fact that it had been in those first few years after running away from home that Klaus must have been pulled into the drug scene. He had run into his brother when they were both nineteen, only to realize with horror that his still teenaged brother was already hooked on pretty much every drug out there. And Diego knows enough about the streets to be well-aware that Klaus was the exact type that dealers purposely try to lure into their orbit. Fragile and pretty and desperate and alone.
So, yes, Diego can picture very well just what might have happened to his brother in those few years after running away. And he has been itching to find the piece of shit responsible and rip them apart ever since.
And at the mention of Klaus meeting this Magnus as a teenager, Diego's mind had immediately turned towards this guy possibly being involved in Klaus’ initial foray into drugs.
But then there is also Ben's obvious approval and even anticipation at the prospect of seeing this Magnus person again, which makes the thought of him being responsible for Klaus' drug problems seem more than unlikely.
Diego frowns slightly as he leans back against the wall between beds that holds his two still unconscious siblings - Five will be pissed when he wakes and realizes he missed all the action - listening with half an ear to the increasingly agitated phone conversations the social workers continue having in front of their room.
The words 'misfiled paperwork' seem to be coming up a lot and the name ‘Bane’ is mentioned multiple times in increasingly reverential tones. Just who is this guy who is about to get them out of this mess?
The phone conversation earlier was honestly a little bizarre. How could this Magnus just simply accept the fact that Klaus is suddenly much younger than he should be, seemingly without any real surprise even? Diego himself hasn’t quite managed to wrap his head around the whole being de-aged thing.
And the man had also seemed entirely unbothered by the fact that he has been roped into a scheme not at all of his own making. A scheme which also involves him taking on responsibility for several children he has never even met before.
Although, it's not even so much his brothers' certainty that this man - whoever he is - would be willing to help them that Diego finds so perplexing. But rather their certainty that he'll also be able to do all that he said.
Because right now the seven of them don’t even officially exist in this reality - being far too young to be able to claim their real identities, which are already taken anyway – and thus adopting them should be impossible if only due to lack of official paperwork on them.
Which means if this guy wants to officially adopt them – or foster them or whatever – he will first have to fake their identities including bullshit family histories and records of their previous foster homes. And only then will he be able to also put himself down as their foster parent.
Any single one of these processes would involve a truly stupid amount of paperwork, even if done illegally. But doing all of that in the rather ridiculous-sounding timeframe of sixty minutes…
But Klaus and Ben seem entirely, unreservedly certain.
And Diego is starting to get the feeling that there might be something about this situation that he isn't aware of at all, some piece of information he is missing that would help all of this make sense.
He eyes his two brothers where they are huddled together on Ben's bed. Yeah, going by their expression they definitely know something that Diego doesn't.
But as focused as he is on the two of them, he also sees them perk up at the voices getting closer form down the corridor. One of those voices is the same as the one they had heard over the phone.
And it's barely forty-five minutes since their phone call and there is simply no way anyone would be able to get all the required paperwork settled and also somehow make their way all the way here in that timeframe.
Well, unless he is some sort of magician or he can time travel like Five.
But no use in wondering about it now. It looks like they will truly be going home with this guy, so Diego will get his answers soon enough.
So, he just listens - admittedly rather impressed - as the man with the voice they heard over the phone promptly makes it clear to everyone gathered in front of their door that he doesn’t really care whether the blame for this supposed screw up is on the police, the EMTs who had picked them up, the nurses or the social workers themselves.
As long as Diego and his siblings aren’t blamed.
Hm, Diego can definitely get behind that sort of mindset.
And then the man belonging to the voice finally appears in their doorway. And whatever Diego had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been this.
Asian features, stylish, glittering, expensive clothes, make-up and jewelry. He looks like a more colorful, if also slightly more classy version of Klaus' future self. Which is just... Diego hadn't thought anyone aside from his brother could pull off this sort of 'style'.
There is also a sort of absolute surety to the man's movements that cannot be faked. Not in that cocky, street smarts kind of way, but in the way of someone who knows themselves, knows they can take on anything thrown their way. All fluid grace and absolute self-assurance. It's the sort of ingrained, instinctual, natural grace that Diego has been working towards his entire life.
The guy is also still speaking to the social workers outside their door, who are trying to get him to clear up something supposedly urgent in the paperwork.
"Of course, I'll be happy to help you with whatever issues you have yet to figure out with that apparently misfiled paperwork. But first, I will require a moment with my children. Alone."
He looks and sounds so friendly and amicable while effectively telling them to fuck off, not one of the other adults even looks offended. Diego is honestly a little impressed.
They watch as the man then proceeds to calmly, unceremoniously, unhesitatingly close the door in the other adults’ faces, not leaving any room for objections.
And then, he finally turns towards them, lets his gaze sweep across the room.
Diego finds it hard to describe the look in his eyes. It’s warm but also really damn intent, attentive but kind, assessing but open.
Finally, the man’s eyes settle on Klaus. A pause and then one of his eyebrows rises - most likely at seeing Klaus so much younger than he should be in this reality - even as a rather amused expression spreads over his face.
There is a brief moment of silence.
And then Klaus is hopping up from the bed, flailing his way across the room while dragging Ben along with him by the wrist and proceeds to just throw himself at the man, hugging him around the waist.
The man immediately returns the gesture, a warm smile curving his lips as he sighs good-naturedly, "Oh sweetie, how do you even get yourself into these sorts of situations?"
Klaus laughs almost quietly - suddenly seeming so much calmer and quieter and just more settled than Diego has ever seen his brother before - even as he loosens his hold to pull away slightly and grin up at the man.
"I'd say 'you wouldn't believe me if I told you', but then again this also isn't the weirdest bind you've seen me in."
At his side, Ben quirks a grin, his eyes entirely focused on the man as well. "Now, isn't that the truth. I think nothing can beat that naked summoning thing you tried."
“Hey, you were there as well!" Klaus immediately protests. "I didn't see you trying to stop me, dear brother of mine.”
Wait, summoning? What in the world are his brothers talking about?
But the man’s eyes have already settled on Ben, their long-lost brother.
“Ben?” he asks carefully, almost cautiously, his arm still settled across Klaus' shoulders where their brother is now happily leaning into the man's side.
And the smile that stretches over Ben’s face as he nods is so beautiful and fragile, it just pulls at Diego’s heartstrings. What is it about this man that suddenly has both his brothers so completely, utterly open?
“Hi, Magnus," Ben says quietly.
The smile on the man’s face is warm and open and bright and, damn it all, Diego can already tell that there is nothing dubious about this guy at all.
“Well, I must say, it is so very wonderful to finally meet you face to face, Ben," he says warmly.
“Same," his brother just replies, shifting slightly and standing so close to Klaus' side that Diego almost misses the small movement of the man's hand switching from Klaus' to Ben's shoulder, even as his arm remains where it is around Klaus. Ben's smile just widens at the contact.
And the man easily smiles back. And then, with a glance at the still closed door, he suddenly looks all business.
“Alright, let’s get some things sorted real quick. I fixed the paperwork and a friend of mine made sure to misfile it just enough to be believable but social services should be able to find all the files within a day or two if they really look for them. So, for all intents and purposes I am now your foster parent. I'll show you the paperwork later so you can make any adjustments you might want.”
Diego feels his frown return. So, this guy really managed to do all that he promised? In thirty minutes? Not even organized crime would be able to fix all of this within that little time.
But Klaus and Ben clearly believe him, apparently not seeing to doubt what he just said.
"Thanks, Magnus," Klaus grins up at him, looking quite cozy where he is squished in between this man and his not-dead-any-longer brother.
“Aw, darlings, you know you can always call me if you need help." The man smiles. Another glance at the still closed door. "Now, how about a quick round of introductions so I’ll be able to tell my flock of children apart and then we can get out of here and back to my place. I already set up rooms for you lot, although some of you will have to double up for now. We can figure everything else out once we are home.”
And Diego wants to throw his hands up in frustration.
None of this makes any sense and he can't read this guy at all.
He is all warm smiles and open arms and he also seems to have quite a bit of power, apparently able to easily screw around with official paperwork without any sort of advance warning and he showed up here personally to pick them up without any incentive beyond Klaus asking him to and he also hasn't really reacted to the fact that Klaus is younger than he would have been even when they originally met... Not to even mention that it apparently took him all of thirty minutes to get them new identities, get himself assigned as guardian, come here and oh-by-the-way also rearranged his apartment to suit their needs.
Even leaving the legal implications aside, the rest of this should already be simply, factually, physically impossible.
But Klaus just nods cheerfully and Ben continues to smile slightly - both of them clearly happy to just accept everything they are being told as though there were nothing out of the ordinary about any of this - and, yeah, there is definitely something Diego is missing here. And with his suspicions and protective instincts already mostly reassured, he is starting to very much look forward to finding out just what that 'something' might be.
[I put it to a vote over on AO3 whether to make this fic pre or post sh canon, so feel free to chime in on that :D]
About the "Little Shadows" fic: imagine post sh, Alec just being fiercely protective of the Hargreeves kids (especially after learning a bit about their past). And Madzie (if she gets included) would basically become their little sister! 🥰 And I can't help but imagine Jace and Clary and Izzy reacting to the Hargreeves. Clary and Vanya, who both thought they were ordinary and then discovered they were not; Izzy and Allison who are both badass but still very feminine; (1/2)
Anonymous said:
Jace and Diego, who are both impulsive and good fighters; Ben and Alec, both kinda quiet but both able to tear anyone apart if needed; Klaus and Magnus, obviously! But then Five and Luther 🤔🤔🤔 I dunno…. perhaps Five and Simon, who are both quite smart? Luther I don’t really know 😅 (2/2)
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Aw, I love the idea of Madzie being included in the utter chaos that would be sure to follow! I hadn’t thought of that before but that would even increase the adorableness of it all (*^^*) And I love the idea of pairing them off with role models and I also have this image of Five and Alec shaking their heads at everyone’s drama while being salty/sassy together and Vanya following Magnus around (because of their whole empathy for everyone thing) and I think Diego would absolutely love Izzy and her weapon smithing and there are just so many possibilities! But then there is also the pre sh canon version, where I can see Five calling everyone on their bullshit right from the get-go and Magnus not being quite as available as he was in canon because he has to take care of his ducklings and thus Alec maybe even having to be the one to do the chasing… Seriously, I just can’t seem to make up my mind on this XD
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turnnoffyourmind
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