MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 21st
by @bytheangell
The Kindness of (Handsome) Strangers
((A/N: Inspired by the lyrics to “Old City Bar” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.))
One would think that Christmas Eve will be a slow day for places like old city bars, while most people travel to and from families and loved ones. And for the most part that assumption is correct - there are less people than usual but the faithful regulars still populate the stools around the counter. In the city that never sleeps, the bar’s neon light shines like a beacon to passersby with nowhere better to be on this cold, winter night.
Magnus washes out a glass between tending to the half-dozen or so patrons in the bar, music playing low in the background from the jukebox in the corner. People stuck working the holiday, or those who didn’t have a family to go home to but who also didn’t want to be entirely by themselves, sit around the small room making small talk. Mr. Dry’s Bar (repurposed from an old speakeasy) is a safe compromise - the solidarity of others in a similar position, but the solitariness of a barstool. Lonely but not alone.
The snow is still coming down outside, starting to pile onto the sides of the roads and sidewalks. Travel is a mess, but when is it not in the city? Still, Magnus is glad to be inside as the edges of the windows begin to ice up. Not that he ever leaves - with a room above the bar he doesn’t need to bother. The outside world brought him nothing but pain in the past and he’s long since stopped trying to force anything else from it. Perhaps he was never meant to love or be loved… at least that’s what he told himself a few years back when he shut himself off to it entirely.
The bell above the door rings, confusing him at first because he doesn’t see anyone there. The sound of light footsteps draws his attention down to the young girl so bundled up in a puffy coat, wool hat and scarf that he can barely make out her eyes to be certain-
“Madzie? What are you doing here, you shouldn’t be out in this weather… or in here by yourself. You know the rules.”
The young girl starts to reply but her voice is muffled by the scarf, and she stops to remove it before trying again.
“I’m not by myself, I’m with you!” Madzie states with the sort of unwavering trust that only a child can possess. She rolls her eyes rather dramatically and Magnus can only imagine how much Catarina hates that particular habit she likely picked up from Ragnor. In all of the city (if he’s being honest, in the entire world at this point) Magnus has three people in his life he still cares for - the three people who wouldn’t allow him to push them away, even now when he hasn’t spoken to any of them in weeks.
“Right. Well, I’m working, and you should get home before it gets too dark out.” He motions back out towards the door.
“I will. I just wanted to see if you knew there was someone lost outside.”
Magnus’ gaze turns back towards the windows, where sure enough a tall man in jeans, a long black coat, and a maroon scarf stands across the street at the payphone that hasn’t worked in years. The snow dots his dark, dishevelled hair before melting, replaced by fresh flakes which repeat the process. Magnus watches for a few seconds as the man tries to pick up the phone, puts it back down, and slumps back against it in defeat.
“He can’t get home,” Madzie adds, drawing Magnus’ attention back to the room he’s in and away from the scene outside.
“Not that I care,” he says slowly, hoping the little girl hasn’t been out there talking to strangers on the street. “But how would you know that?”
Madzie shrugs. “If you could be home, wouldn’t you already be there? It’s Christmas Eve.” And with that she’s gone, out the door and into the swirling snow.
Magnus watched her pass by the window before turning away from it. Wasn’t like he could go give the guy a ride or anything - it’s a city, cabs go by more often than necessary even in the snow. He’ll be fine.
Or maybe not. A few moments later, drawn towards this particular building by the glowing neon in the otherwise dreary winter grey outside, the man from across the street comes into the bar with a little ‘ding’ from the bell above the door to announce his arrival.
He’s gorgeous. It’s the first thing that registers in Magnus’ mind, entirely against his will. The next is the redness of his face, unable to distinguish if its from the cold or potentially from crying - all of his exposed skin is damp from the melted snow so it’s difficult to tell. He definitely looks upset, though.
“What can I do for you?” Magnus asks, doing his best to look entirely disinterested. Which he is. The guy may be attractive but that doesn’t mean Magnus needs to be invested in his problems.
The stranger eyes him carefully, hesitating. “Do you have a phone here I could use? I tried to use the pay phone across the street, but--”
Magnus huffs a laugh. “That thing’s been broken for years. I reported it to the city a few times but, hey, it’s 2018 - I don’t even know if they bother fixing them at this point, or just let them become relics.” He gives the guy a good-natured smile at the joke but it falls flat. Not in the joking mood then. No, he supposes someone in a position to need a payphone in the snow on Christmas Eve probably isn’t having the best of days.
“I wouldn’t ask except my car broke down, and my cell is totally dead, and my apartment’s at least an hour back, walking…” the attractive man continues to explain until Magnus holds up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t worry about it. Here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, unlocking it before handing it over.
The guy takes it with a quiet “Thanks”, waiting just long enough to take a very telling deep breath before dialing the number. “Hey Luke, is mom there?” A pause, and the stranger grows visibly more distraught. “Hey, mom. Listen, I’m-” he swallows thickly. “I’m not going to make it home.”
Magnus watches as the strangers face falls, any attempt at a forced smile for show gone entirely.
“I know. I know it’s been years. No, this isn’t about-” he spares an apologetic, embarrassed glance Magnus’ way and Magnus shrugs and turns away, seeming to give him a bit more privacy though he continues to listen. “I know this is the first year without Robert. I really wanted to see you and Izzy again too, but my car broke down. Even if I had the extra cash for the tow and the cab I’d never make my flight--” The stranger trails off, and though his back is turned Magnus can hear the emotion choking his words. “Just tell Max and Izzy I’m sorry. I’ll call later.”
Magnus waits a moment or two before turning to face the man on the other side of the bar again, taking back his phone.
“Thanks,” the stranger says with another sigh, eyeing the liquor behind the bar. “Can I get a shot of whiskey? It’s going to be a long walk home.”
Magnus nods, fighting the urge to talk; to do what bartenders are expected to do in this scenario, even though he definitely doesn’t care about the sad, stunning man doing shots of whiskey while stranded at his bar on Christmas Eve. Not at all.
Not until the man nearly chokes on the shot, only managing a wincing half-sip before looking like he just bit into a lemon. Magnus has to actively hold back the instinctive laughter. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re not a whiskey man?”
“I’m not much of a drinker in general,” the stranger admits. “But I figured it’d warm me up a bit.”
Magnus caves. “You said your car broke?” He asks despite his better judgment.
“Yeah. I was supposed to go home for Christmas for the first time in… five years now, I think?” He tries the whiskey again, a little more prepared for the bite this time. “I kind of fucked things up back home, then my parents escalated it, and long story short I left town for college and never came back. This was supposed to be the first year I saw them again… second chances and all that. But I guess I’ll just pick up some extra shifts at work instead.” The guy looks down at the now-empty glass in resignation. “One more for the road?”
Magnus obliges, and this time the stranded stranger knocks it all back in one proper go, still wincing and shuddering a bit as he swallows. Magnus can see how torn up he is over the situation and his thoughts drift towards his own father: he doesn’t even know where he is to try and reach out to him even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. Not after--
Magnus is torn from his thoughts when the guy across the bar speaks up abruptly. “Anyway, I should go. How much do I owe you?”
Magnus frowns slightly while remembering the words he spoke on the phone about not having the extra money for the tow or a cab to the airport. Granted, that would be considerably more expensive than a few shots of low-end whiskey, but still...
“It’s on the house.”
The man looks surprised. “Really? Are you sure, I have-”
“Really. Don’t worry about it.” Magnus repeats the offer in a way that makes it very clear he won’t say it a third time.
The stranger lingers a moment before nodding, pushing himself away from the bar. “Thanks. Happy Holidays.” And there’s something in the gratitude behind those hazel eyes at the small act of kindness, even in the face of everything else he’s dealing with, that tugs at Magnus’ heartstrings a little.
“Yeah,” Magnus replies. “Happy Holidays.” This earns him a few funny looks from his regulars around the bar, and it isn’t lost on the stranger as he makes his way back out into the snow that there isn’t a single decoration in or on the entire building. Magnus waits until he’s out of the door before not-so-subtly wandering back to where he can see the guy cross the street through the window. The tall man stops beside a dark car, struggles to get a duffle bag that’s half his size out of his trunk and over his shoulder before shutting the trunk, lastly giving the car a kick out of obvious frustration before turning to start down the street.
Magnus watches. He hesitates. He takes a deep breath. And then, without a single word, he reaches for his red coat and slides it on, grabbing something from the register and shoving it in his pocket before heading out into the snow after the stranger.
----
Alec can’t believe his luck. Maybe it’s a sign. He’s willing to give his mom a second chance and the benefit of the doubt now that Robert is out of the picture and Izzy promises him that Maryse is much better now, swearing she’s really, truly looking to make amends. It was bad enough to learn that Robert was cheating on her after Alec left, but to find out she knew and stayed anyway was almost too much for him to forgive on top of his own grievances. Now that they’re separated and his mom is dating Luke she does seem better, and it’s obvious how much of her opinions of him after his engagement debacle were shaped by having Robert at her side. He thought this year he could try to extend that olive branch…
Maybe this is the universe telling him it isn’t time just yet. He thought he was ready - he really felt like things were lining up to be alright again - but maybe he’s wrong.
The whiskey warms his chest as he grabs the bag from his car, giving the side of the broken vehicle a kick for good measure. “Cheap piece of shit,” he mutters bitterly, not sure what else he really expects from a car nearly as old as he is. Honestly, he’s lucky it lasted him as long as it did.
Alec’s already trying to convince himself this is fine. He hasn’t seen her in years, not since he broke off his engagement to Lydia the day of the wedding. He still isn’t sure what made his parents more furious: the embarrassment of him waiting until the last moment or the revelation after the fact that it was because he’s gay. Either way, the fallout was so spectacular that he left and never looked back… not until now.
The truth is that he’s been looking forward to this for months. He misses his family. He forgave them long ago, probably earlier than he should have, and he needs to be certain that they forgive him, too. A flight home for three days was the best he could manage with the way he’s been working to pay for school on top of the classes he’s taking, and now he has no idea when his next chance to get home may be.
But it’s fine. Maybe he can work something out for over the summer... what’s another Christmas alone after this many, anyway?
He’s ready to start the long walk back to his apartment when he sees something moving towards him - no, not something, someone. A figure in a bright red coat which stands out in stark contrast to the whiteout surrounding them is crossing the street and it doesn’t take him long to recognize the bartender.
“What time is your flight?” The bartender asks without preamble.
“What?” Alec asks back, thrown by the sudden question.
“What time is your flight? How long do you have to get to the airport?” He repeats with a huff of impatience, as if he’s already regretting his decision to come out here.
Alec glances at his watch. “A little under two hours.”
The bartender reaches into the pocket of the red coat and takes out a messy cluster of bills. It’s a twenty or two, some tens, but mostly fives and ones. It’s everything from the register that day. “Take a cab. If you bribe them with a good tip they won’t stall for extra fare time. Traffic probably won’t be too bad this late, you should be able to make it.”
“I couldn’t.” Alec takes a step back while shaking his head. “And I have to find a tow before I leave.”
The older man hesitates, clearly considering this additional roadblock in his plan for the first time. “...leave me your keys?”
Alec laughs in disbelief. “What?!” He has to be joking, right? He doesn’t really expect him to just hand his keys over to a stranger, does he?
“Leave me your keys,” the bartender repeats again, with more conviction this time. “What, do you think I’m going to steal your broken down dinosaur of a -- Jesus is that a Buick? How do you even drive that boat in the city?”
Alec narrows his eyes. The bartender clears his throat and shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. Look, one of my regulars inside owns a shop. We’ll tow it there and you can sort it out when you get back. He’ll give you the fairest price in the city, you have my word.”
He has no reason to trust this guy besides the fact that he was nice enough to let him borrow a phone and not pay for drinks, and Alec can’t help but doubt this much unwarranted kindness, even during the holidays. “Why? I mean it’s nice of you to offer and all, but you don’t even know me.”
Something shifts in the man’s expression. He looks like he’s about to share something personal, give a little insight to his motivations, but just as quickly it’s gone. If Alec isn’t so positive of what he saw he may believe it’s just a trick of the streetlights above them.
“Look, I’m not going to offer twice. Just… take it. Go home. See your family.”
The look in his eyes may be gone but something is still there in his voice: a mixture of fondness and sadness, Alec thinks he hears, wondering if the bartender’s thoughts are on his own family just then.
Alec looks down at the money in the man’s hand and decides to take it.
“I’ll pay you back.” Alec promises, hope springing to life in his chest where only regret and disappointment lingered moments before. Alec reaches into his own pocket for his keys and slides the one for the car off the ring, handing it over to the bartender.
“I’m not asking you to. Don’t worry about it.” The bartender turns and heads back across the street without another word.
“Thank you!” Alec calls out after him. It doesn’t even occur to him that he never got the bartender’s name before he disappears back inside the bar, leaving Alec to flag down the cab that miraculously passes by that very moment.
This, Alec realizes with a smile. This is the sign I needed.
-----
It’s a week later, New Year’s Eve, and there isn’t a soul in sight at Magnus’ little bar on the outskirts of the city. All of his regulars are home by now; anyone wandering by is trying to make their way closer to the action in Times Square and not paying his little hole in the wall a second glance. He’s getting ready to lock up - half of the chairs are flipped upside down to rest on the tables and most of the lights are already out - when there’s the familiar sound of the bell above the door.
“I’m closing up for the--” Magnus starts, but stops abruptly when he sees who it is.
It’s the guy from Christmas Eve.
“Oh, sorry. I can come back tomorrow…” The tall stranger trails off, already looking down at his feet as he turns to leave as quickly as he came.
“Wait!” Magnus calls out, but when the stranger turns back around Magnus realizes he has no follow-up for stopping him until he remembers the car that’s been . “Uh, your car’s fixed but the shop’s closed until the 2nd. I hope that’s alright.”
“It’s more than alright. Thank you,” the guy says. “For everything. Really, I can’t even begin to tell you how much it meant for me to see my family this year. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me and I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Magnus.”
“Alec.” The stranger - Alec - supplies. “Nice to properly meet you.” Alec smiles, and it’s enough to make Magnus forget what he was doing only a moment before; he’s still awkwardly holding a chair in his hand and it takes him a few seconds to remember to set it down on the table to clear the floor for the morning’s sweeping. “Need some help with those?” Alec motions to the chairs left around the tables.
Magnus shrugs. “Sure,” he agrees, trying not to sound too eager. “Thanks.” At first there’s a bit of awkward silence. They don’t know each other. Their last interaction before this was Magnus shoving a handful of money into his hands and walking away, but not before taking the key to his car. This isn’t the typical set-up to any sort of friendship. But after a minute or two Magnus asks how the trip home went, and Alec tells him a bit more about his family, hesitating at the bit about being gay but going on eagerly when it doesn’t phase Magnus in the slightest.
Instead of actually leaving once the chairs are up Magnus pours them both a drink, which turns into two drinks, and the two of them are in the middle of laughing over something one of them said when all at once the sound of cheers and noise makers and fireworks spills into the city streets around them.
It’s New Years.
They both waver, locking eyes, searching for the answer to the same question. There’s something here. Each of them is certain that they feel it on their end, but does the other? Magnus is the first to move closer, almost imperceivably, but Alec’s quick to close the rest of the gap once he makes the first move. The taste of the sweet liquor of Alec’s cocktail mixes with the darker smokey notes of Magnus’ scotch as their lips meet, tentative at first then more confident as hands reach out to smooth up and down arms or thread through hair.
They only pull back when Magnus leans forward a bit too far and Alec nearly falls backward off of his barstool, causing them both to break into barely-contained fits of laughter.
“I should get going,” Alec reluctantly admits, glancing at the clock. “Getting a cab at this point is going to take forever.”
“You could stay,” Magnus offers quickly. He doesn’t want Alec to leave. He thought about that kind smile and those warm hazel eyes every day since Christmas Eve, and the more he gets to know him the more he’s drawn into every facet of his personality. He wants to let him in and he doesn’t know why - but only if he can be certain Alec isn’t going to leave like all the others. God, he can’t let himself get hurt like that again. It’s a risk, one Magnus has closed himself off to for years now, but one impromptu midnight kiss has him certain it’s one worth taking. “I live above the bar, no travel required. And I promise to be a gentleman; I’ll take the sofa, you can have the bed.”
Alec considers the offer for several long, agonizing seconds, and for a moment Magnus is convinced he’s going to say no - which will be disappointing but not surprising. They’re still practically strangers, after all.
But instead of turning him down, Alec counters with an unexpectedly coy: “...and what if I were to say I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
“If you insist,” Magnus deadpans. “Then I can take the bed and you can have the sofa.”
When Alec starts to laugh again Magnus can’t help but break his perfectly executed serious expression to join in. He honestly can’t remember the last time he laughed this much, and it isn’t until he thinks idly that Catarina would like Alec that he realizes how far gone he is already.
If Alec catches the soft look of surprise that crosses Magnus’ face at the realization it only helps to make up his mind.
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 7th
by @the-roci
It's not only apple cider that pools in the center of his chest, radiating outward until Alec feels impossibly loose with a comfort he's been chasing since childhood. Muscle by muscle, his body continues exhaling the pent up tension he's been carrying from the first time he looked at another boy and thought: he's beautiful. Because all the years of fighting himself and hiding are finally melting away, replaced by a warmth as beautiful and golden as the flicker of candlelight currently spread around the cabin.
With the night dying down, they’ve all settled around the soft glow of flames in the living room, letting a gentle lull roll over them as they shift from bursts of laughter to something more quiet and intimate. Almost inaudible Christmas song mix with the steady hum of alcohol as Alec watches as Jace, Clary, and Izzy squeeze themselves between Maryse, Luke, Maia, and Simon. It’s not exactly a new thought, but one that’s been cementing itself in his consciousness every time they have evenings like this. The idea that he can have this. Easy moments surrounded by friends and family as he drapes a hand over his boyfriend’s shoulder and kisses the side of his head while Izzy dives deeper into whatever story she’s telling from their childhood.
Alec tries to listen as she mentions something about getting caught sneaking around the armory after dark, but he’s transfixed by the way Magnus crinkles his nose when he laughs and how his body pools into Alec’s. It feels good, the solid press of muscles against his side. And all he can think about is diving deeper into the shared warmth as he loses himself in the most blissful type of buzz. But Magnus shifts slightly, bringing Alec back into Izzy’s story. She’s adding details Alec is fairly certain never happened when Magnus shifts, moving until he can place a hand on Alec’s knee. And it verges on overwhelming really, how something that once seemed impossible has transformed into something simple. A touch so normal and casual that it’s completely overlooked by everyone in the room. Izzy is still leaning forward, lost in her own story as Clary shakes her head and looks at Jace.
“You didn’t say that,” Clary says, eyes illuminating with the Christmas lights they put up that morning. “Please tell me that he didn’t say that.”
“Oh, he did,” Maryse assures. “He absolutely did. I wanted to give them all extra cleaning duty for a month, but Alec managed to calm me down the next morning. Always playing the diplomat, even from such a young age.”
Magnus squeezes his knee, and when Alec looks up again, Maryse is watching him with a fondness so palpable he can almost breathe it in. It’s enough to make something inside Alec crack. The leftover pressure of making up girlfriends and hiding himself to honor his family releases in a large, encompassing huff. And as the very foundation of him settles, he’s left feeling sluggish, the type of satisfaction that comes after an extremely good workout. He’s sated, relaxed in ways he doesn’t remember feeling before.
“That certainly sounds like Alec,” Magnus says. “So, what other trouble has his diplomacy gotten him out of?” The only thing that makes tonight better is how comfortable Magnus appears next to him. Like he’s found his own sense of belonging here.
“How about a story when diplomacy didn’t work?” Maryse asks, sitting back with a content smile. “Has he ever told you about time the Croatian Institute sent over an envoy?”
And just like that, the moment fizzles. Replaced by blood rushing to his cheeks before he launches forward. “He doesn’t need to hear about that. I don’t think anyone needs to hear about that ever again.” He shakes his head when Magnus turns to look at him, expectantly. “Trust me, it’s not even that funny. We should talk about anything else. Really.”
“What are you talking about,” Jace says, in what will go down as the biggest betrayal in history. “That’s a classic. You’re going to love this Magnus.”
Before Maryse begins her own story, Alec excuses himself to the kitchen before residual embarrassment turns into a bottomless pit of regret that will have him reaching for more alcohol. He gives himself a moment before rejoining the group, resting against the doorway of the kitchen, and finding himself struck with a lightheartedness that has him smiling as everyone laughs at his expense. Seeing everyone together, so cheerful after the year they’ve had, it’s a reminder of everything he’s been sacrificing and fighting so hard for. And as Magnus stands and makes his way over towards Alec, everything he’s going to keep fighting for.
"If it helps, it wasn’t that bad,” Magnus says, slightly slurred, but no less elegant, "but if this is just your way of getting me alone, it certainly worked.”
Alec surprises himself by smiling instead of rolling his eyes. "Hate to break it to you, but I was just getting a refill."
“Well, in that case, care for a top off?” Reaching into his silver blazer, Magnus pulls out the flask of rum that got them both the perfect level of hazy and splashes it into the cider. “That should give you enough courage to show your face again.”
“It’s fine, I've survived worse. I just got caught up in all of this for a second.”
Magnus turns his head, glancing back into the living room. "All of this?"
"I never imagined something like this for myself." Alec only half realizes he says it. Mumbled into a small, warm sip. "I mean, we spent time as a family around the holidays, but never like this." Drinking and playing games like their lives weren't constantly on the line. But at least for this moment, they could remove themselves from all the obligations that demanded their attention and focus on themselves.
When Alec was a child, they were all bearing the weight of their family name. And while Alec was perceptive, he missed how his parents were buckling under the pressure of what was expected of them, just like he, Izzy, and Jace were. They all suffered for it. Now though, huddled together with snow falling gently outside the window, it feels like a family. Something gentle and beautiful, crafted from pain and heartache, but something completely and uniquely their own. He wouldn’t change any of it for the world.
"I didn't either," Magnus responds. He has that distant look in his eyes when Alec turns towards him. Something as vast as the horizon and caught in the tide of centuries. Alec can’t begin to comprehend the magnitude of Magnus’ lifetime of memories, but he knows how to pull him back to the present, and so he does.
Reaching for him, Alec takes Magnus' hand in his own and guides it to his lips. He'd give everything and more to ensure Magnus knows only the feeling of the first flush of alcohol and the soft security that can only come from an evening surrounded by unconditional love. A soft surge of protection ripples inside Alec as he pulls Magnus close, sliding his arms around his waist and enveloping him in a hug. Hearts beating against each other, Alec loses himself in the soothing feeling of Magnus against him. There’s so much Alec wants to say, but he lets the curve of his body make all the promises for him.
"I hope I've changed that," he half whispers into spikes of black hair.
"You have. That and so much more.” Magnus pulls away enough to place a palm against Alec’s cheek. It shouldn't be possible for a single touch to make him feel like he's the most valuable thing in the world. But Magnus is looking at him with eyes glistening with the reflection of string lights and something so open and vulnerable and happy. Kissing Magnus comes even easier than pulling him closer while they were still on the couch.
It’s a slow and soft. Something as gentle as the evening has become. Full of security and the promise of a future so much lighter than they ever could have ever imagine before. And really, Alec should let go, but he’s caught in a rush of tranquility, holding Magnus against him, the warmth of ringed hands pressing into his back. Alec feels full, so completely himself that it’s almost difficult to wrap his head around. So he focuses on the push and drag of lips against him. The quiet sigh he absorbs into himself.
Awareness creeps back in the sound of Jace's voice. "Can you two save it for later? We’re about to take a Christmas selfie.”
With his heart still full from being able to be himself, openly loving the man he secretly wished to meet since he was a child, Alec pulls himself away. Still, it takes a few seconds to completely untangle himself from Magnus.
"Trust me, I’ll be saving much more for later," Magnus whispers as he walks back to the group, leaving Alec momentarily breathless. He feels like he's hovering, lost in an intoxicating stratosphere, but he knows everything will be exactly the same when he comes back down to earth. It's an incredible feeling.
"Coming?" Magnus asks louder this time, as he positions himself near Luke. There’s enough room for Alec to squeeze himself.
“Yeah,” Alec says, “I’m coming.” And he makes his way towards his family.
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 5th
by @hourglassmermaid | ao3 | twitter
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
The streets of New York are illuminated by a soft winter’s glow. A light dusting of snow covers cars and buildings in a frigid blanket, but the brisk wind flowing through the city uproots it into a silvery tornado that twinkles under the street lights. Magnus watches the way the snow puffs up and falls back to earth, his breath ghosting out in icy huffs.
He adjusts his scarf so it covers his nose, fixes his earmuffs to try and drown out the bar crawl behind him, and stuffs his gloved hands into his pockets. He’s chilled to the bone, and by this point, the only thing keeping him on his feet is his patented blend of five shots of espresso and Christmas cheer (the Irish cream in his pocket flask).
The chorus of drunken chatter dies down as Magnus ducks into his favorite corner liquor store. He nods at the clerk and heads directly to the wine section. His eyes dart from bottle to bottle as he mouths out the brand names silently to himself, trying to settle on something inoffensive that will please the majority.
He can’t remember what Isabelle likes; it’s been so long since they last found time to go out for drinks after their lectures. And so much has happened since… It’s been awhile.
He wants to bring something that she’ll enjoy. Not something she’ll pull a face at and banish to the back of her refrigerator. He vaguely recalls her sipping on a red one night while they were trading horror stories from their freshman Gen Chem lab sections. She got so into her dramatic retelling of the time she had a student break their buret during a titration that she spilled her glass all over the lab reports they were supposed to be grading. Magnus’ stomach drops at the memory.
His finger traces over the embossed letters on a bottle of nice Merlot. Full-bodied flavor. Notes of black cherry and currant. Elegant. Very Isabelle. Hopefully she likes it — or at least doesn’t hate it. But it’s better than arriving empty handed.
Magnus checks the time on his phone. He’s really pushing it on arriving fashionably late and drifting into blatantly late with each new tick, but he needs to check on something before he cashes out and journeys back into the tundra.
His feet guide him towards that familiar aisle, and his hands reach out towards that same spot on the shelf. Muscle memory is an incredible phenomenon. Magnus turns the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon over in his hands. He hasn’t had a glass of this in almost a year now.
He thinks of candlelit dinners and hushed whispers between silk sheets. Picnics on the beach and movie nights spent in an oversized armchair. The crackle of a warm fire and the feeling of soft fur against bare skin.
He squeezes the neck of the bottle a little tighter.
He remembers broken glasses and slammed doors. Tear stained papers and missed calls. An abandoned key in his kitchen drawer and the sound of a plane flying off into the distance.
There’s no point in buying the bottle. Isabelle assured Magnus that he wouldn’t be there tonight. In fact, that’s the only reason why Magnus agreed to make an appearance.
He pays for both bottles at the counter anyway and tucks the brown paper bag under his arm before heading out into the bitter night air. Magnus justifies the purchase by telling himself that maybe Isabelle drinks the same wine as her brother, but his heart knows the truth better than his misplaced excuses.
He takes refuge in the lobby of Isabelle’s building, shutting out the cold behind him. Magnus glances around at the chipped beadboard, scuffed linoleum, and peeling paint. It’s all so familiar and yet so foreign simultaneously — a place he once knew but where he no longer belongs.
He presses the button next to Isabelle and Clary’s names, and someone buzzes him inside a moment later. He climbs up the rickety stairs until he reaches their floor. Magnus wanders down the hallway and double checks the text Isabelle sent him with her apartment number. It feels wrong that he no longer knows it by heart. The worst part of everything was losing Isabelle.
Neither of them have admitted it, but it’s true nonetheless — their new normal. Even though Magnus and Isabelle were friends long before he and Magnus ever met, Magnus lost her when he lost him.
Magnus hesitates as he winds up to knock on her door. She invited him here. She wants him here. He sucks in a deep breath and turns the knob.
“Magnus!” Isabelle’s uncharacteristically high voice squeals. She stumbles as she pulls him into a hug. “You made it! Come in, come in!”
“Merry Christmas,” Magnus greets, patting her on the back. “This is for you by the way.” He hands her one of the wine bottles.
“Merlot? You remembered!”
The relief pouring off of Magnus is palpable. “How could I forget?”
Isabelle takes his arm and shimmies through the crowd of her friends and some of their colleagues who are all dancing to “All I Want For Christmas is You” and scream-singing along. Magnus spots Isabelle’s bullheaded adopted brother laying it on far too thick for a few disinterested women and Clary’s tangle of fiery red curls as she kneels down on the carpet, helping Simon’s band set up for the party. She waves at him from across the room, and Magnus flashes her a smile and a head nod.
Isabelle leads him towards the drink table and shoves a glass of eggnog that smells deceptively more like rum than nutmeg into his hands. She pours a glass for herself.
“A toast,” Isabelle slurs, raising her glass so some of the liquid sloshes out of the top. “to old friends.”
Magnus clinks his glass against hers and winces as he takes a tentative sip. It’s strong, even for him.
“And I believe congratulations are in order?” Magnus says, choking down the burn. “Future Mrs. Clary Fairchild.”
Isabelle beams, her whole face dissolving into the most beautiful smile as she wiggles her fingers to flaunt her custom engagement ring. The rose gold band accented with a delicate pattern of tiny diamonds and princess cut white sapphire almost shines as bright as the love shared between these two exceptional women.
Isabelle recounts in vivid detail how and where Clary proposed as they drift towards the entryway to her balcony, the doors propped open to cool down the tightly packed room.
“We were at her new gallery opening, and—”
“Magnus.”
The rest of the world melts away and Magnus’ senses are flooded with nothing but Alec. He smells of the same sandalwood cologne Magnus gave him last year for his birthday. The rough sound of his voice as he breathes out Magnus’ name takes Magnus’ breath away, and somehow, he looks even more gorgeous than the last time Magnus saw him. His hair’s a fluffy mess, he sports some soft stubble on his chin, and the light green of his service uniform brings out the piercing green of the hazel eyes he has locked on Magnus.
“Alexander.”
Magnus has lived through this exact moment so many times before it’s like he’s playing out a distant dream or an old memory. The overwhelming sense of deja vu breaks him of his daze as if he had been splashed with ice water.
Magnus tugs at the hem of Isabelle’s blouse, leaning in close to whisper, “I thought you said he wasn’t going to be here.”
Isabelle pulls away. “Ya know, I think I hear Clary in the kitchen! She probably needs help with the devilled eggs!”
Magnus reaches out to her as she hurries towards the kitchen, gulping down the rest of her eggnog as she disappears into the crowd. Magnus leans up against the french doors, trying to slow down his heartbeat to a rate that wouldn’t alarm his PCP. Once he’s satisfied that he won’t pass out in front of his past lover, Magnus plasters on a brave face and steps out onto the balcony.
“Aren’t you cold out here?”
Magnus, we need to talk.
“I’m wearing layers under my uniform.”
What’s on your mind, Angel?
Magnus nods. “I see now why your sister didn’t take my coat.”
Alec shakes his head, gripping the metal railing a little harder. “Yeah, she told me she had a surprise for me.”
“That definitely sounds like Isabelle.” Magnus walks over to the edge of the balcony and rests his elbows on the railing beside Alec. He’s close enough to touch, but Magnus gave up that privilege a year ago. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d be home for another year.”
I want you to come with me.
“I’m on leave for the next two weeks.” Alec shifts around so his back is pressed against the railing and tilts his head towards the sky. The flurries swirl around in the air and cascade down onto the porch. A few isolated snowflakes land in his dark hair and glimmer in the moonlight. He looks like an angel.
I’m not going to put my career on hold to follow you.
“It’s nice that they let you come home for Christmas.”
“Yeah,” Alec agrees. “How’s your semester going? Izzy told me you just got published in the Journal of Biochemistry, so uh, congratulations.”
“She knows about my paper?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Because they only ever talk anymore when Magnus is carrying a fresh cup of coffee back to his office, and she’s heading into her lab.
“We… haven’t had much time lately to catch up.”
“Yeah, she’s been busy.” Alec swipes his tongue over his top lip, and Magnus feels the phantom warmth of his kiss, the soft, plush feel of his mouth against Magnus’.
A silence lingers between them, far more chilly than the weather. What do you say to the person who once knew you better than anyone but now might as well be a shadow?
Alec shifts his weight from foot to foot trying to circulate some warmth throughout his hulking form and stumbles on the slick landing, accidentally elbowing Magnus in the side and banging his wrist on the railing. He apologizes profusely as Magnus helps steady him; his breath tickles Magnus’ skin and sends a shiver down his spine.
Alec nurses his arm, rubbing over the spot where he collided with Magnus. “Damn, do you have a brick in your pocket?”
“No, actually. Believe it or not,” Magnus teases. He reaches into his coat pocket and draws out the brown paper bag.
Alec raises his scarred eyebrow at the package, and Magnus’ heart thumps against his ribs. Alec knows of his vices better than most, finding Magnus slumped over on the kitchen floor, open bottle of whiskey on his right and unusable data on the left, more times than Magnus cares to admit. Sometimes Magnus thinks that Alec’s the only reason he finished his PhD, helping him through panic attacks over failed experiments, going into the lab with him on weekends and sitting quietly while Magnus worked, and encouraging him every step of the way when Alec believed in him more than Magnus believed in himself. But that was in the past. Magnus has it under control now. Mostly.
Magnus crumples the paper to give Alec a peek at its contents. He flashes Magnus one of his gorgeous, crooked smiles, and Magnus’ legs almost give out from under him. Coming here was a bad idea.
“My favorite.”
“Do you want some?”
They pop the bottle with the corkscrew on Alec’s Swiss Army knife and pass it between them like high schoolers beneath the bleachers during a football game.
“I always thought this wine suited you,” Magnus says.
“Really?” How so?” Alec asks in between sips.
Magnus smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and leans farther out onto the railing, looking off into the night sky. “Classic. Bold. Pairs well with a nice steak.” He laughs to himself. “Dry on the surface but sweet underneath.”
“You know,” Alec says, swallowing down another swig. “You look incredible tonight.” He pauses. “You always do.”
Magnus motions for the bottle. “You as well.” He takes a sip.
A strong gust of wind whistles through the air, harmonizing with the distant sirens and horns below, and the party rages on behind them. From the sounds of it, Simon has started his set and is playing a Punk Goes Pop style cover of “Last Christmas.”
At the same time Magnus says, “I’m sorry about what happened,” Alec says, “I was out of line last year.”
There’s nervous laughter and awkward glances and fumbling around. Alec grips at the back of his neck. “It was selfish of me to expect you to drop everything to come with me. I’m sorry.”
Magnus plays with the cold metal of the silver ear cuff he’s wearing. “It was an amazing opportunity, and I’m sorry that I made you feel guilty for accepting it. Do you like Berlin?”
“Not nearly as much as I loved being at home with you in New York.” He steps into Magnus’ orbit, but Magnus is the one caught in his gravity.
“Alexander,” Magnus warns.
“I know we’re not together, and I know it’s my fault, but screw it, I need you to know,” He takes another step, brushing his fingers against Magnus’ cheek, and Magnus leans into his warm caress. “that I never stopped caring about you.”
“I waited for you. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
“You didn’t have to,” Alec whispers. “I never expected you to—”
Magnus curls his fingers around Alec’s and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve had my heart for so long that I couldn’t imagine it with someone else.”
Magnus hears the shudder in Alec’s breath and his sharp gasp and is relieved to know that he’s not the only one who forgot how to breathe.
“I love you.”
Alec leans in and presses his lips to Magnus’ and for the first time in almost a year, Magnus feels at home. Magnus’ eyelids flutter shut, and he kisses back with all that he has, revelling in how very right, how very safe it feels to be back in Alec’s arms.
Magnus doesn’t open his eyes when they part.
“I love you too.”
It’s a promise. A promise that this time things will be different — they’ll be different. And Magnus is ready to try.
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 15th
by CryptidBane
In Eternal Spring
(Harry Potter AU with Beauxbatons!Magnus and Durmstrang!Alec, rated T)
Magnus loves Beauxbatons. He loves its white walls, verdant gardens, and stained glass windows. Its elegance brings him calm, a respite from the realities of being a muggleborn orphan.
Here, it feels like he belongs, and he almost believes it too. So when the headmistress announces that Beauxbatons will be participating in an academic exchange, Magnus decides that he will be a representative.
The qualifications are simple enough: Submit a letter of recommendation from a professor, and pass both a written and a practical exam. Magnus is the top student in three of his classes, and his Charms professor adores him.
A week after the test, the headmistress calls upon himself and Catarina Loss to notify them of their acceptance. Magnus is responsible for the Durmstrang students, and Catarina is responsible for Hogwarts, the pair of them playing host to the twenty-odd students from each.
“It is an honor to be chosen,” the headmistress says with great gravitas, leveling them both with the sophisticated yet steely gaze she often wears.
***
All the details have been ironed out, and Magnus can’t wait for their guests to arrive.
Catarina says that she has a friend named Ragnor who goes to Hogwarts.
“He’s a grump, but he said that his parents were insistent that he participate. He speaks French, but really all he uses it for is complaining.”
“He sounds charming,” Magnus says with a laugh. “Do you think I could convince a Durmstrang student to tell me where it’s located? Seduce them maybe?” Magnus asks, wiggling his eyebrows. He places a marker into his book on the school in question. His roommate, Raphael Santiago, peers over at him with an exasperated expression. He is younger than Magnus and Catarina, but always manages to look annoyed with them anyway.
“Don’t bother,” Raphael says, waving his wand at a white throw pillow. The cushion wriggles, then soars into the air, landing in Raphael’s lap. “I doubt any of them will speak with you any more than they have to.”
“So hurtful, Raphael,” Magnus replies with a huff. “Have a little more faith in me.”
Raphael makes a point of rolling his eyes. “May I have enough faith to carry me through your bullshit.”
Catarina snorts into her own set of books, warding off Magnus’ indignant rebuttals with her hand. “Well they’ll be arriving tomorrow, so make sure they’re happy, with or without your seduction.”
“Of course,” Magnus replies. “Trust me, I’ll take very good care of them.”
“I’m expecting an international incident,” Raphael says. He returns to his Accio practice, summoning a gilded book from across the room.
Magnus smiles and flicks his wand. All of the cushions in the room rise, then descend, covering Raphael from head to toe.
***
Magnus stands next to the headmistress beneath painted ceilings, the mural of magical creatures moving above them. One of the dragons spits a stream of fire, disrupting a crowd of birds, their tiny brushstrokes weaving across the rippling sky.
Large windows line the walls, stained glass writhing as unicorns and phoenixes cast shapes along the floors. Magnus scans the room. The youngest students are all crowded together, tiny and anxious, gossiping amongst themselves. They’re sweet, Magnus thinks. He hopes that their visitors will show the young ones just how vast the world is. Catarina stands at the front as well, braids laying over her shoulder. She and Magnus exchange eager looks as a staff member hurries to the headmistress. Then, the headmistress calls for silence, preparing them all for their guests.
Hogwarts arrives in a flurry of color. Groups of five release bright bursts from their wands, weaving lines of red, green, blue, and yellow, as they troop through the hall. Four students brandish their wands before all the rest, a silvery corporeal patronus erupting from each of their wands. Magnus raises a brow, impressed, and claps with the rest of his peers. Catarina smiles at one. He nods back, looking surly, then steps in line with the others.
The headmistress greet the Hogwarts students, introducing them to Catarina. Catarina curtsies at them all before leading them to one of the long tables. Tittering commences as soon as they settle in, all of Beaxbatons arching their necks as the sound of heavy footsteps approach.
The double doors burst open. A girl with long dark hair spars with a blonde boy, both of them bearing the emblem of Durmstrang, her whip and his metal staff gleaming beneath the glass chandeliers that illuminate the room. The rest of the entourage pours in behind them in a river of dark red and fur, moving with great surety toward the front of the room. Magnus watches as they come to a stop. It grows quiet, both fighters settling at each other’s throats as sparks fly around them.
Movement draws Magnus’ eye, a tall shadow in the doorway, broad shoulders spreading wide as the arrow is drawn and shot, fusing the air with white heat as it explodes into the form of a dragon. The light casts the archer in sharp relief, soft white light catching on thick lashes and a scar through one eyebrow. He’s beautiful.
Magnus Bane is not flustered. Magnus Bane doesn’t even know what being flustered is, thank you very fucking much. The headmistress beckons to him. He flicks a lock hair out of his face, stepping toward the students, nonchalant.
“We thank you for coming all this way. This is Magnus Bane, the senior student representative who will escort you to your accommodations.” The headmistress turns to Magnus and gestures with her hand toward the Durmstrang students. “He will be taking care of you.”
Hazel eyes meet his own, and Magnus fights the urge to cover his unusual gold gaze, plastering on his most winning smile. The boy blushes high on his cheeks. Oh. Magnus bites back a grin, stomach fluttering. That sure is a sight.
Well, no time like the present. And because he is most certainly not flustered.
“Welcome to Beauxbatons. I am Magnus Bane.” Magnus pauses, taking a polite bow. He stands, watching as the archer speaks urgently with another student, attention flickering between Magnus and the granite floors. That won’t do. “I will guide you to where you will be staying. We have guest wings prepared for you. But first, food.”
Magnus shows them to a banquet table. The Beauxbatons students shift to make space, periwinkle blue uniforms making way for the heavy Durmstrang coats. He sits toward the end, in one of the many gold and navy blue chairs, taking in the scents of the feast as it appears on the table. He’s so hungry. Someone sits in the chair next to his, bringing the scent of teakwood and a rustling of furs.
“You are Magnus,” a deep voice says in halting French. Despite the noise around them, Magnus hears him with crystal clarity, the words still trailing fingers up his spine.
“I am,” Magnus replies. He turns, meeting green and gold and brown, sucking in air. Magnus lowers his lashes and bites his lip. “And you are?”
“Alec,” he says, wearing a hesitant expression. Magnus fights to breathe as Alec continues. “Alec Lightwood. My sister told me to introduce myself. Your eyes are beautiful.” The compliment tumbles from Alec’s mouth in a rush, his face turning bright red.
“Thank you,” Magnus manages, trying to find his composure as the flattery echoes in his mind, giving birth to butterflies in his chest. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes,” Alec says, still blushing, gaze darting down to the table. “It is nice to meet you too.” The hall hums with chatter and the sound of utensils on plates, and Magnus is sure there are people watching them, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“I think you have beautiful eyes as well,” Magnus says.
“Thank you,” Alec mumbles, fingers twitching where they rest on the table.
“You’re welcome,” Magnus says, thrilled to watch as Alec turns away, muttering something to himself in a language Magnus isn’t familiar with. “Shall we eat?” Magnus asks. Alec nods. Magnus takes a lamb chop, some roasted potatoes, and assorted vegetables.
It smells divine, the usual fair of foods mixed in with some diversity to suit their visitors. Magnus appreciates the sight of Alec taking a large serving of each vegetable, avoiding the fatty bits of steak as he takes a slice onto his plate, cutting the meat into even pieces before eating. He’s meticulous, and the behavior charms Magnus more than it has any right to.
They continue to eat, Magnus ignoring the disapproving looks Alec sends him every time he pushes a carrot to the side.
“Why do you not eat the carrot?” Alec asks. His brows draw together as he searches for the right words. He rubs the back of his neck, fingers scratching at his dark hair, looking unbearably cute. “They are good for you,” he says, frustration with French clear on his face.
“I don’t like them,” Magnus admits, a bit embarrassed of his childish reasoning. Alec smiles and shakes his head.
“You should eat them. I do not like brussel sprouts, but I eat them,” Alec says, stabbing a brussel sprout, holding it up for examination before putting it into his mouth. He chews with immense determination before swallowing. “See? It is good for you. Please try.” Just five minutes into Alec’s acquaintance, Magnus will do anything for him, so Magnus gives him an awkward smile.
“Only because you’re so pretty,” Magnus says with a wink. He sighs, staring down at the now-cold carrots as they mock him. He puts one into his mouth and immediately regrets it.
With a few awful bites, the carrot is gone, and Magnus washes the taste away with a large gulp of water. Alec laughs, nudging Magnus’ shoulder with his own.
“We will work on it,” Alec says, encouraging Magnus with a firm nod before pulling away.
Magnus smiles in reply. The warmth of Alec’s hand burns through Magnus’ uniform, surging through his veins, and setting him alight. But Magnus is not flustered. So he does what he does best, wrapping confidence around himself like a cloak. He will not let Alec Lightwood get the better of him so easily. Magnus is the seducer, not the seduced.
Alec clears his throat, a shy smile settling across his face. “Would you like to, how do you say, get to know each other?” There is no guile or flirtation, only earnest curiosity, and nerves that dance in his hazel eyes.
Magnus never stood a chance.
“Of course,” Magnus says, more than a little breathless. “I would love to.”
Alec grants him a brilliant smile, nodding, then takes the largest slice of pie Magnus has ever seen.
***
Magnus doesn’t get any alone time with Alec after the welcoming feast, disappointing him beyond belief, even though he and Catarina continue to tend to the needs of the exchange students. Much of their time is spent explaining Beauxbatons’ traditions, such as their annual unicorn racing competition.
Two days into , the Hogwarts students begin to ask about Quidditch, and are horrified to hear that Beauxbatons does not have any official Quidditch tournaments during the school year, much less school teams.
Magnus and Catarina bring the complaints to the headmistress, who consults Hogwarts and Durmstrang on their policies. The headmistress allows Magnus, Catarina, and representatives from the two visiting schools to plan a Quidditch tournament.
“So we have three teams. There are less students from Durmstrang and Hogwarts, but we play Quidditch regularly. It’s pretty competitive at Hogwarts,” a blond girl, a Slytherin, suggests. “The final match up will be decided by point differential if there is a tie.” The rest of the Hogwarts entourage make affirmative noises, looking toward the Durmstrang group for their opinion.
All five Durmstrang students nod in acceptance. “That is okay for us,” Alec says, “we will play.”
Catarina records all of the information and requests that everyone sign the parchment. “If everyone is in agreement, we will hold tryouts for each school this coming Saturday at different times during the day. Magnus and I will speak to the staff about the tournament,” she declares.
***
As the exchange students become more acclimated to life at Beauxbatons, Magnus finds himself with more time to give Alec his undivided attention. Magnus meets Isabelle and Jace, Alec’s siblings, and takes to Izzy as soon as she compliments his nail polish. Jace is as uninterested in Magnus as Magnus is in him, directing his attentions to one of the Hogwarts students, a Hufflepuff named Simon.
The eight of them, including Raphael, Simon’s best friend Clary, and Catarina’s friend Ragnor, spend most of their time together in the southmost courtyard. It’s a small but quiet space. There are flowers of all different colors and shapes in bloom. The grass is kept manicured, a powerful enchantment shrouding the chateau grounds in perpetual spring. It’s peaceful, and easy to access should any student require Magnus or Catarina’s attention.
It is in this courtyard that Magnus finds out that Alec plays Quidditch. He’s the best keeper at Durmstrang in fact, if Isabelle is to be believed, and Magnus insists on watching the Durmstrang practices.
“You do not have to come watch. I am not very good,” Alec says. He waves Magnus’ protests away, glaring at his sister where she sits in the grass, shy. She laughs, whispering something in Clary’s ear that makes the Gryffindor blush.
“How can we be sure you aren’t spying on us for the Beauxbatons teams?” Jace asks, his French impeccable in a way that Alec’s is not. He eyes Magnus from where he’s sitting with Simon, playing Wizard’s Chess, and swears under his breath when Simon takes his knight.
“Because I don’t care about sports beyond appreciating the beautiful people playing them. I’m only going for your brother,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes. Alec blushes, bright and borderline cherubic, but says nothing. “I don’t even know how to play Quidditch,” Magnus admits with a shrug. “How can I spy for my team if I don’t even know what’s happening?”
Jace looks over at him in disbelief. “Don’t you play Quidditch at home like everyone else?”
Magnus thinks about an empty house and its cold lack of magic.
Raphael gives an annoyed huff from where he sits in the shade of a tree, working on a report. He closes his book and glares at Jace. “Don’t you know how to keep your mouth shut?”
Magnus can’t be here anymore, embarrassment and a bit of frustration creeping up his spine, sinking teeth into the edges of his smile. “Raphael, be nice. No harm, no foul,” he says, trying his best to mean it. “But if you’ll excuse me, I just remembered that I offered to help tutor a student before dinner. I will see you all tonight.” He gets to his feet before anyone can argue and shoots Raphael a warning glance before leaving the courtyard. He leaves the scent of flowers behind as he enters the building. The book he’d been reading, a text on muggle science, is heavy in his hand.
The corridor is empty, and Magnus is grateful for the space. He deals with this every once in a while. The whole of Beauxbatons knows about him: always at the top in his classes, a ridiculous flirt, and a muggleborn orphan with no one who loves him. It’s no one’s fault that the students from the other schools are not as informed as his peers.
In a way, he’s more irritated with how much the reminder hurts him, than he is with Jace. Jace hadn’t meant anything by it, and Magnus hates that an off-hand comment from an acquaintance can sound so much like the confused hatred of his now-dead stepfather. He hears the sound of footsteps.
“Magnus?” Magnus ignores Alec, walking faster, and turns down the passageway to another wing of the chateau. Light shines in through the windows, mermaids in the stained glass swimming alongside him. Beauxbatons loves him, Magnus knows, but the halls almost seem to stretch as he tries to hide. Alec’s pace quickens, and then there’s a hand on Magnus’ arm—curse Alec Lightwood and his long legs.
Magnus sucks in a breath. “Yes?” he asks, turning toward Alec with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”
Alec opens his mouth, then closes it, free hand coming to rest on his chin as he mutters in Bulgarian. “My brother,” Alec says, straightforward, French still just a little rough on his tongue. “He is not very...good with people? Rude? I do not know the correct word.” Alec gives Magnus an apologetic smile, hand sliding down Magnus’ arm until their fingers are woven together. “I am sorry for him.”
Magnus stares at Alec for a moment, feeling Alec’s warmth, and laughs.
“Oh, Alec. It’s alright. It’s an honest question,” Magnus says. And it is. Quidditch is as eponymous to magic as wings are to flight, and to think that someone doesn’t even know the rules must be ridiculous. Alec shakes his head, insistent, raising Magnus’ hand to his lips.
“Even so,” he murmurs. “You are hurting, and I am sorry.” Alec leans down, kissing Magnus’ knuckles, eyes full of concern. “Come watch me. Please, I will teach you.”
Magnus doesn’t even realize he’s crying until tears drip from his chin and onto the stone flooring. “Oh, Morgana, this is so embarrassing,” Magnus mumbles, trying to hide his face. Alec refuses to let him.
“No apologies,” Alec murmurs. He cups Magnus’ face, hands gentle, and wipes the tears from Magnus’ cheeks. “I am sorry you are hurting.”
“Thank you, Alec,” Magnus whispers. He leans into the touch, soaking in Alec’s kindness.
“Call me Alexander. For you, I am Alexander,” Alec replies. “I care for you. Let me show you.”
Magnus nods, heart lurching in his chest as it reaches, desperate, for the sunlight of Alec’s smile. Magnus wishes he understood Bulgarian. He wishes he could hear what Alec means, instead of what he wants to hear.
“Thank you, Alexander.”
***
Two months pass. They don’t speak of it again after that day. Jace apologizes, and Magnus waves it off, emotions firmly under control once more.
Despite their silence on the subject, things between Magnus and Alec begin to change. As if that day broke a dam, Alec often holds Magnus’ hand, initiating physical contact with a casual sort of grace that leaves Magnus unable to flirt like he usually does.
Magnus attends the tryouts, spectating practices whenever he has time. He still doesn’t understand the complexities of the game, but he knows that Izzy, Jace, and Alec are all very good.
Alec gives Magnus a kiss on the cheek after dinner, much like how Izzy greets Magnus every morning. They part ways. Magnus ventures back to his quarters, taking in the fresh scent of pine as he admires the wreaths that appeared overnight. The holidays are upon them, decorations popping up around the chateau, and Magnus begins to think of what to get Alec as a gift. A watch maybe? Or a scarf perhaps. Dark green would look charming with Alec’s hazel eyes.
Raphael meets him at the door. “We need to talk.”
“Good evening to you too, my darling Raphael,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes as he unlocks the dark blue door that leads to their chambers.
“This isn’t a joke, Magnus,” Raphael snaps, irritated, following Magnus inside. “It’s about your precious Lightwoods.”
“They’re not mine,” Magnus replies.
Raphael plows on, undeterred. “Their father is Robert Lightwood. Sound familiar?”
Magnus thinks for a moment, then gives Raphael a sarcastic smile. “No, I can’t say it does.”
Raphael weighs his response. He mutters to himself, looking conflicted, then seems to make a decision. “The Lightwoods are a pureblood family,” He says, words ringing with a gravitas that would be comical on any other sixteen year old.
“Your point?” Magnus asks, quashing the insecurities that threaten to climb his spine and bloat his mind.
“You know what my point is, Magnus,” Raphael replies. “But if you need any other evidence...” He walks over to his desk, retrieving something before walking over to Magnus’ bedside. A book, bookmarked in the middle, lays on Magnus’ nightstand. Raphael’s heavy gaze bores a hole into Magnus’ chest. “Goodnight, Magnus.”
***
Magnus flips through the book Raphael gave him, sitting in the boughs of a large flowering tree. It smells like sunlight, comforting, golden beams winking in and out of existence as the leaves dance in the wind.
It’s a compendium of the remaining pureblood families, the author having taken great interest in the subject after Voldemort’s fall. The Lightwood family tree is illustrious to say the least. Alexander’s great-great-great-grandmother created the draught of living death, and another, even older relative, is recognized as the first wizard to use a threstral hair in wand-making. Thestral hair is not commonly used in wands anymore, but it’s impressive all the same.
Alec comes from a long line of purebloods. There’s not one member, of the Lightwood family, by marriage or otherwise, that isn’t pure blooded. Magnus continues reading.
With each wizarding war, the Lightwood family aligned with the pureblood elitists. Barghest Lightwood, Alec’s eldest uncle, had been convicted as a Death Eater, and died in Azkaban. The Lightwoods moved from the England to Bulgaria after the Battle of Hogwarts. As unsurprising as it is, seeing the proof is more painful than Magnus expected. The Lightwoods do not believe that Magnus belongs in their world.
He sets the book onto a nearby branch and stares up into the maze of flowers, and wonders what Alec thinks.
***
Magnus wakes when the sky turns dark. It’s cold, his limbs are stiff, and his neck aches from sleeping in an awkward position for too long. His stomach growls in the quiet air. He hears the clamor of students, laughter travelling down the halls and toward the main hall. It looks he hasn’t missed dinner.
With a languorous stretch, Magnus collects his things, swinging down to the ground with a thud. His bag bangs around his legs as he walks, slipping down his arm. He tugs it back over his shoulder and ventures into the corridor. The dining hall smells like beef stew, mouthwatering, the promise of warmth and comfort drawing Magnus to the table. Alec waves at him, but Magnus looks the other way.
He serves himself a steaming bowl of soup, grabbing a few slices of bread to dip into it, and slips from the dining hall. The smell of garlic and tomato permeates the sparsely populated hallways. It doesn’t take very long to reach his quarters, several paintings asking him for a bite of food as he walks past.
Dinner is quiet that night.
***
Magnus’ strategy doesn’t work for more than a couple days. Alec catches him on his way to the library, hand wrapping around Magnus’ wrist, tugging Magnus to a stop before letting go.
“You do not want to see me?” Alec asks, searching Magnus’ face for answers as he herds Magnus into an empty hallway. Magnus protests, unable to meet Alec’s eyes, excuses dying on his tongue as Alec refuses to let him escape.
“I—yes,” Magnus admits. “I’ve been avoiding you.
“Why?” Alec asks. He lets go of Magnus, crossing his arms. “What is the reason?”
Magnus steels himself, fighting down the desire to run. “You’re a Lightwood,” he says.
“I am,” Alec agrees, unmoved. He waits, impatient, gesturing for Magnus to continue.
“And I’m a muggleborn,” Magnus explains, watching, waiting for Alec to respond. Alec stares back at him, as if expecting him to continue. Magnus averts his gaze. Unicorns whiny from the mural that decorates the wall, foals wobbling over to poke at Magnus’ hand with their noses. There’s a beat of silence, then, Alec begins to speak.
“I see. Thank you for sharing.” He smiles, soft, and almost guilty. His arms unwind. “I understand why you are unsure to tell me. My family has a reputation.” Then, he struggles with what to say next, the language barrier frustrating him. “I understand, but I am not the same. We are not how we were.” His hand comes to rest over his heart, pressing against his chest. Hurt flashes across his face as he speaks. “Please do not run away from me.”
Magnus bites his lip as he considers Alec’s words.
“And your siblings?”
Alec mulls this over before speaking. “Isabelle and I learn together. She is better. I still make mistakes.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Jace, he is slower at these lessons,” Alec confesses. “He is not good with others. Simon helps.” That makes sense. Simon is a half-blood, and more outspoken than the other Hufflepuffs Magnus has met.
“What about your parents?”
Alec’s eyes dim, brows drawing together as his hands fall to his sides, clenching into fists. “My father is not a good man. My mother tries.” He does not elaborate.
Magnus takes in Alec’s stiff posture. Families are complicated, whether they’re dead or alive. That is something Magnus understands well. He leans in close, catching Alec’s gaze, and runs his fingers over Alec’s knuckles.
“Last question,” Magnus says, smile growing playful. “When are you going to teach me how to play Quidditch?”
Alec brightens. “We can go now? I have a broom. We can borrow Jace’s.” He looks relieved to be back on even keel, tugging on Magnus’ heartstrings as he shoots Magnus a warm smile, the tension of their conversation melting from his eyes.
“As long as you promise that nothing will happen to my face,” Magnus says, pouting. Alec laughs, long and loud, before shooting Magnus a wolfish grin.
“Do not worry. I will protect your beautiful face.”
Magnus blushes. He tugs his collar up over his cheeks as he adjusts his bag, following as Alec leads him toward the Durmstrang wing.
***
It’s beautiful, as it always is on the Beauxbatons grounds. The trees are always in bloom, petals and leaves rustling, fauna scurrying in the underbrush.
Magnus enjoys flying. He does not, however, enjoy dodging bludgers. The wind whips around him, whistling as the bludger hurtles toward him with startling speed. He lets out a yelp and starts to climb, broom carrying him further into the sky as he tries to outrun the cursed object. After a few close calls, Magnus convinces Alec that Quidditch just isn’t for him.
They come to rest in one of Beauxbatons’ many gardens. There are hydrangeas all around them, tiny petals creating waves of greens and pinks and purples, insects buzzing between the stems. Sunlight soaks into their skin, warming them despite the winter months that settle in sheets of white over the mountains. Alec sets his broom on a nearby bench, stretching as he turns to survey the flowers. Magnus watches as Alec sheds the outer layer of his uniform.
Alec keeps the fur cape in his room, but usually wears the maroon jacket and pants of the Durmstrang uniform. Jace and Izzy often forgo it all for the more spring-friendly Beauxbatons option, blue instead of their usual red, the school having provided a set for every exchange student.
A high-collared button-up exposes the barest hint of a black tattoo on Alec’s neck. The white material lays across his chest, stretching as Alec pulls the outer layer off. He drops it into the grass, disrupting a pair of beetles that take off and zoom away, buzzing madly. Magnus whistles as Alec unfastens the top two buttons, ogling him without shame. Alec laughs and unfastens the next one with a playful smirk.
After banishing the assorted Quidditch equipment, he inspects Magnus for any sort of damage, gentle as he brushes Magnus’ hair from his forehead.
“You are in good condition?” Alec asks. His hand falls back to his side, a butterfly floating up to light on his shoulder. “Your beautiful face is not damaged?”
“I’m fine,” Magnus says. He misses Alec’s warmth, finding himself jealous of the tiny creature. He grips the broom as it bobs, sensing his agitation, dismounting it and stepping onto the lush grass. The lacquered wood is smooth beneath his fingers when he sets it next to Alec’s own.
He walks over to one of the many bushes, stroking the bundles of flowers as he admires them. Alec joins him. The sun kisses Alec’s hair, shining on the swaths of skin that Magnus finds so beautiful. “These are very pretty,” Alec says. “Hydrangea, a good flower. It gives thanks.”
There’s a moment where Magnus wonders what he did to deserve Alec. It’s an invaluable gift, Alec’s presence, steadfast and warm at his side. He draws on Alec’s strength, searching for something to say. A fox darts out of one of the bushes. It rushes past them, leaping into a hedge before disappearing, leaving a series of crackling twigs in its wake. Magnus and Alec glance at each other, both of them grinning widely as the air quiets once more.
“This is my favorite garden,” Magnus says. Alec nods in understanding, waiting for Magnus to continue. “Beauxbatons was the first place that I felt at home. I feel like I belong here; I love the magic and the flowers, and the snow that falls in winter but never touches the ground.” He reaches up toward the sky and feels the wind rushing through his fingers. “I’m an orphan. My parents died when I was young, and I’ve only recently inherited the property they left for me.” Magnus thinks of its open halls and grand ceiling, all of it cold and untouched by the magic that flits through every molecule on Beauxbatons grounds. The very same magic that surges through his blood and frightened his parents.
“You are strong,” Alec says. “Your past. It is hard, but you are here, and you still smile.” Alec’s words are direct, the still-rough French hindering him from making any poetic statements, but the effect is the same.
The guileless nature of Alec’s words and actions is a healing balm that eases the weight that Magnus always carries with him. But Magnus does not know how to express how Alec makes him feel, nor does he know if his words would be welcome; so he lets the conversation blow away with the petals that fall into the wind.
Magnus lays down on the lawn and stares up at the clear sky. Alec hesitates to follow, still lingering by the hydrangeas. A pair of birds chirp overhead, one of them swooping down to inspect Alec’s clothes where they lay in a heap. Magnus turns to look at the brooms they left on the bench. “The Quidditch tournament will be starting soon won’t it?”
Alec wanders out of sight, calling behind him. “Yes. It is next week. We are calling it the Christmas Quarrel. Do you like it?”
Magnus laughs. “That’s perfect. How’s the team looking?”
“They are good. We are a strong team,” Alec says, stepping back into Magnus’ view.
“Oh really? How does Beauxbatons look?”
Alec doesn’t say anything, then, a bit unsure, “They are okay.”
Magnus lets out a wounded noise. “Ouch, that hurts. Don’t kick our asses too hard.”
“I can throw the match?” Alec says. “Beauxbatons is important to you.”
Magnus peeks up at Alec with one eye, gasping in mock offense. “Well now you have to win.”
“I have to win?” Alec asks, coming to stand at Magnus’ side, hands hidden behind his back. “What will I get if I do?”
“You’ll just have to find out,” Magnus teases. He hopes that Alec doesn’t notice the blush burning up his neck and cheeks.
“I will find out if I win?” Alec asks.
“I pinky promise,” Magnus swears, holding out his hand. Alec winds their fingers together.
“I will not lose,” he replies, shaking his head at Magnus’ antics. He sits down at Magnus’ side, chest hair peeking out of his shirt, offering Magnus a cheerful flower with a multitude of long, thin petals. It looks almost out of place—a single bloom in a sea of hydrangeas. “For you.” Magnus sits up to accept the gift, his left arm taking most of his weight.
The flower is dainty between his fingers, bending, the head too heavy for its stem. He bites his lip. Magnus takes in a deep breath even though the fresh air doesn’t seem to be making it to his lungs. He looks up into Alec’s face, affection welling up and threatening to spill over. It smells like flora and teakwood and Magnus wishes he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. “This is the first flower anyone has ever given me,” Magnus whispers. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” Alec murmurs. He leans over Magnus, blocking out the sun. “Flowers suit you.” He pulls out his wand and waves it. Petals of all shapes and sizes showering down upon them. They land in Magnus’ hair and on his robes, catching on Alec’s shoulders before the wind sweeps them away.
Magnus reaches up, slow enough for Alec to evade him, and cups Alec’s cheek in his hand. Alec lays a hand over his own, then presses a kiss to Magnus’ palm.
“And that?” Magnus asks. Alec smiles.
“That was because I wanted to,” Alec whispers.
Magnus feels the exact moment he tumbles headfirst into love—when Alexander Lightwood lays down beside him, and laces their fingers together.
***
Magnus leaps to his feet, cheering as Alec blocks another goal from one of the Hogwarts players. Both Hogwarts and Durmstrang beat Beauxbatons with ease.
It’s half an hour into the final match. Alec tosses the quaffle to Izzy. She takes off, hair streaming behind her in the wind. Magnus loses track of her quickly, opting to watch as Alec surveys the field, wind billowing around him.
There’s the sound of a bell, and Alec pumps his fist, giving Izzy a high five as she and Jace streak past him and around the Durmstrang goalposts. Magnus checks the score. Durmstrang is up by thirty points.
All of a sudden, two of the players throw themselves into a dive. They charge through the mania of chasers, the beaters doing everything they can to catch any bludgers that come too close to the pair.
“What’s happening?” Magnus leans over to yell into Ragnor’s ear.
“The seekers have spotted the snitch,” Ragnor yells back, fighting to be heard over the uproarious audience, the Beauxbatons student body having split loyalties. “The game is close. Whoever catches the snitch will win the game.”
Magnus turns back to the field, trying to follow the snitch while keeping track of Alec. Alec blocks another attempted goal. Magnus claps and hollers his approval.
A hush ripples over the crowd, and Magnus follows Alec’s gaze to see both seekers on the ground, standing with their brooms still between their legs. Then, the Durmstrang seeker raises his arm. Something golden gleams in his hand.
“Alec won,” Magnus whispers. The crowd erupts, all of the students rushing the pitch, sweeping Magnus along as they push forward, cheering and trampling the immaculate Beauxbatons lawn as they go. The horde swarms the Durmstrang seeker and raises her onto their shoulders. It’s then that Magnus spots Alec, fighting his way over.
“Magnus,” Alec says, reaching for him. They manage to grab hold of each other, and the throng pushes them closer together, pressing them chest to chest. Magnus gazes up into Alec’s eyes. “We won,” Alec says.
“You won,” Magnus breathes. “Congratulations.”
“What is my prize?” Alec asks, grinning. “You promised me.”
It’s like the world freezes, disappearing, everything and everyone around them fading into white noise. Magnus gathers all of his courage and prays to every deity out there.
He grips the front of Alec’s uniform and pulls him in, their lips meeting. The kiss is short. Alec’s lips are dry and chapped, but Magnus doesn’t care—panic and worry setting in. Then, Alec pulls him into another, deeper, kiss. It sweeps Magnus up in a current, drawing him farther into Alec’s arms.
They come up for air, heaving, both of them too tangled in each other to acknowledge the chorus of cheers around them.
“I am sorry for my sweat,” Alec murmurs, lips brushing against Magnus’ with every word.
“Nothing a shower won’t fix. We can even save water if I joined you,” Magnus says, breathless, smirking.
Alec laughs, entire body shaking as he regards Magnus with a disbelieving smile. “To save water?”
“Water conservation is very important for environmental health,” Magnus says, grinning. Alec shakes his head and mutters to himself in Bulgarian. Magnus shrugs. “It was worth a shot.”
“You are funny,” Alec says. “You think that we would save water together. I think we would shower for a long time.”
Magnus blushes, blood rushing through his veins, and tugs on the sleeve of Alec’s Quidditch robes.
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 23rd
by sublightsleeper
White Christmas
Magnus Bane has been known in the past to go a little overboard.
Now, depending on who you asked, this could be a good quality or a bad one. To Ragnor, it was almost always a bad quality. He’d say ‘Magnus, we don’t need a seven course banquet feast to celebrate Catarina’s new job.’
Of course, Catarina never seemed to mind. And now there was his sweet Alexander, who suffered through Magnus’ fits of pique with a loving smile and never tried to tone him down. (It's one of the many reasons he loves him.)
And Magnus has every intention of having a nice, quiet Christmas at home, nothing too fancy, until he asks Alec about how many guests to expect and gets ‘oh, uh… We don't really do Christmas in my family.’
It takes a bit more needling to get the rest of the answer out of Alec. His parents often worked separately from one another, even when they were married. And Izzy and Jace started spending the holidays with paramours as soon as they were old enough.
Which left Alec an island, with nothing but work to keep him. It's downright heartbreaking, and Magnus will not stand for it.
But he's centuries old, and regardless what his loving friends may think, Magnus can keep a secret. So he shrugs off the conversation about Christmas, leaving it at ‘well I'll find some work to do too.’
And when Christmas Eve falls, he sends a text to Alec, telling him to ‘come home, we’ll have some dinner together’ and gets to work.
Garland in lush red trails along the door frames and the mantle above the fireplace, where he’s got a nice fire burning, the crackling of the wood a wonderful counterpart to the record he’s put on. He’s never been much of a fan of Christmas music as it is now, but the warbling old record was a gift from a friend a long time ago, and the piano music always warms his heart.
On the table, there’s the type of dinner that would make Ragnor roll his eyes at the decadence. Lobster and steak, salads and wine. And a veritable buffet of little side dishes, because Magnus wasn’t quite sure what Alec liked on that front. The kitchen counter is covered with desserts, everything from a yule log to cupcakes and lady fingers. (There’s no such thing as too much when it came to sweets.)
But Magnus’ favorite part of the whole room was the Christmas tree. A nice, fresh fir that filled the room with the sharp scent, a perfect counterpart to the warmth of the fire. The tree was decorated in golds and reds, ribbons woven carefully between the branches that were hung with glittering baubles.
At the top of the tree, because Magnus is not one for resisting a good pun, is an angel with fluffy white wings, holding a candle in her tiny hands. (A touch of magic replaced the plastic candle with a real one, like the ones glowing along the mantle.)
Magnus is grateful he had the spell prepared in advance, because he only has a moment when the door opens to pull the magic from deep in his bones and weave it around the room. Alec puts his keys and jacket down, taking everything in with wide eyes.
It’s only when he’s stepped into the living room proper that he looks up, wonder written across his expression. The snow that falls from the ceiling in fat flakes is enchanted to be warm, blanketing itself across the furniture. Flakes land in Alec’s hand and he laughs, turning emotion bright eyes on Magnus.
“You did this for me?” His Alexander was a smart man, that was for sure. Magnus grins and straightens the lapels to his red silk jacket.
“Of course, darling. I wanted to make our first Christmas together special.”
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 25th
by @sandalwoodmalecs | ao3
Time Is Forgiveness
20 years ago, Alec and Magnus got married, their friends and family surrounding them in joy and peace and love. It was the happiest they’d ever been, they both thought.
15 years ago, Alec and Magnus adopted a beautiful baby girl. They named her Diana, after Alec’s favorite Roman myth when he was a child. This, they thought, was a happiness that would never be absent from their lives again.
3 years ago, they lost that happiness when Diana packed her bags and left, never to look back.
Every year on Christmas Eve- their beautiful baby girl’s birthday- they sit on their couch and they wait for her to come home.
December 24, 2003, 8:52 PM, New York, NY
“This is the best Christmas present I could ever ask for,” Magnus sighed softly, clutching the tiny baby close to his heart, “Alexander, just look at her. She’s precious.”
“I know,” Alec smiled, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his tears, for they came from a place of pure joy at seeing his daughter for the first time, “I still can’t believe she’s really ours, Magnus.”
“I know,” Magnus whispered and gazed up at his husband of five years, “After all this time, after everything we went through just to meet her birth mother, I-”
“I know,” Alec said, “I know.”
“Have you two decided on a name yet?” the nurse asked kindly.
Alec gave Magnus a peck on the cheek and stood, “Yes, we have,” he said, “We want to name her Diana.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” the nurse said, the corners of her mouth tilting upward, “I’ll get the paperwork, then.”
She rushed off, and Alec let out a deep sigh, settling into the hard plastic chair next to Magnus. He leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open so that he could continue to look at his daughter.
“Diana?” Magnus asked, intrigued. They’d had a few rows concerning the name of their daughter, and one night after a particularly nasty one, he collapsed into Alec’s arms and practically begged him to just pick a name.
“Diana,” Alec agreed, though he didn’t elaborate further.
Magnus hummed, and Alec laughed, “I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, babe,” he said, “Right now I just want to spend time with you and our daughter.”
“Right,” Magnus sighed, “We’re in for a lifetime of sleepless nights.”
“Yup,” Alec grinned, “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.”
December 24, 2018, 9:34 PM, Boston, MA
The old opera house was the perfect place for a homeless kid to take refuge in at night: run down, isolated, not too drafty, and plenty of seats to sleep in so that you didn’t have to sleep on the floor among the used, dirty needles and the rats.
Diana sighed and threw her backpack into a seat in the first row, where the pit would usually be. She sunk into the seat next to it and prepared herself for another cold, sleepless night. She pulled the hoodie over her head and tugged on the string, then promptly curled up into a ball and closed her eyes.
“I can’t imagine this is a very suitable place for a little girl to spend the night,” a deep, booming voice called out, and Diana shot up, whipping her head back and forth, searching frantically for the voice.
She hoped beyond everything that it wasn’t a cop.
The man walked towards her, and she observed his posture for a few moments before she relaxed slightly. It wasn’t a cop, so she didn’t have to worry about that, but there were other dangers out there she had to look out for.
She would allow herself to breathe, but she couldn’t let her guard down. That would mean certain death, she knew.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady and calm despite the fear brewing within her.
“A friend,” the man said, and his smile was so gentle, she almost believed him.
“That’s not an answer and you know it,” she said, “I’m 15, not an idiot. So who are you?”
The man stopped at the end of the row of seats she seated herself in and seemed to consider the question.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Nice try,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, “If you’re really my friend, you would know who I am. You wouldn’t have to ask.”
The man laughed and walked closer to her, sitting in the seat on the other side of her backpack. He stretched his legs a little, then settled back in the seat.
“My name is James,” he finally answered, “And yours?”
“Diana.”
By all means, she shouldn’t have been talking to this guy, much less telling him about herself. But he looked so much like her grandfather, Luke, and his demeanor reminded her of him, as well. His smile was bright and his eyes were kind, and Diana had missed the simplicity of kindness.
She missed her family, too, but she was never getting that back, so she decided to settle for second best for tonight.
“And what are you doing here tonight, hm?”
She ducked her head and wrung her hands together, drowning in her regrets.
“I can’t go home,” she mumbled.
“Your family does not love you?” James inquired, tilting his head.
“No, they do!” she whipped her head up, then sank back in her seat. “They love me more than I love myself.”
“If that’s the case,” the man said, “then why can you not return home?”
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“I’m not leaving any time soon.”
She looked over at the man and held eye contact for a few seconds before nodding.
“Okay,” she said, “but the first thing you need to know is that it was all my fault. My dads didn’t do anything wrong.”
James didn’t say anything and she let out a deep sigh. She felt tears slip down her cheeks, but she wiped them away immediately. Weakness was death on the streets.
“It happened three years ago.”
November 18, 2015, 4:37 PM, New York, NY
Diana huffed as she busted into the loft, throwing her school bags on the floor and slinging her coat off. She started stomping upstairs to her bedroom when she heard the door slam behind her and the voice of her angry father trailing behind.
“Diana Sophia, if you take one more step, I swear to god-”
“You swear to god what, dad?” she demanded, whirling to face her father, “You and I both know damn well that you and papa don’t believe in physical punishment, so what are you going to do? Ground me? I’m 12 years old, that doesn’t work on me anymore.”
Anger flashed dangerously in her father’s eyes, and Diana almost backed down.
“You guys are so overbearing, god!”
Keyword: almost.
“Overbearing?” Alec said, and the tremble in his voice shocked Diana.
When Magnus was mad, he was calm, but in an intense way that affected the entire room. When Alec was mad- really mad, not just the kind of mad you got over after an hour or two- his entire body would shake.
She gulped, but again, she didn’t back down. She had a stubborn streak that even Magnus and Alec had a hard time crossing, especially now that she had hit puberty.
“If you think me being concerned for your safety is overbearing, then you have another thing coming for you,” Alec said, “Go to your room. I’ll deal with you when your father comes home.”
Diana turned and walked away, muttering under her breath about you are my father, just deal with me now, and I was going to go to my room before you stopped me anyways.
Alec inhaled deeply, slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. He always knew that Diana would be the death of him, but this was just too much. He looked at the clock and noted that it would be at least another half an hour before Magnus got back, so he took out his phone and sent his husband a text.
Alec, 4:42 PM
Your daughter is going to be the death of me.
Magnus, 4:43 PM
That’s not a good sign.
Magnus, 4:43 PM
What happened?
Alec, 4:45 PM
She became a teenager.
Magnus, 4:46 PM
Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, what did she do?
Alec, 4:49 PM
The usual, kind of. She was hanging out with those older kids when I picked her up from school today so I tried to talk to her about it, nudge her in the right direction. She just rolled her eyes and refused to talk to me so I yelled.
Magnus, 4:51 PM
We all know how much she loves being yelled at. She go to her room?
Alec, 4:51 PM
I had to let her go. I was so angry I couldn’t stop shaking.
Magnus, 4:53 PM
I know.
Magnus, 4:53 PM
We’ll talk more about this when I get home. I need to get back to work so I can leave.
Alec, 4:55 PM
I love you.
Magnus, 4:57 PM
I love you too.
Magnus, 5:28 PM
On my way. Dinner?
Alec, 5:28 PM
Just pick some pizza up or something. Be careful.
Magnus, 5:30 PM
Will do. See you at home.
Alec, 5:31 PM
See you at home. Love you.
Magnus, 5:48 PM
Love you too.
December 25, 2018, 9:34 PM, New York, NY
Alec sits on the couch, staring at his phone, rereading the old text messages between himself and his husband for the millionth time that night. Magnus sits on the other end of the couch staring into the distance, mind lost in the void. He was holding the glass of wine he’d poured 3 hours ago, still completely untouched.
Suddenly, in a fit of frustration and helplessness, Alec threw his phone across the living room. It hit the wall by the TV they hadn’t used in 3 years and it shattered. The noise startled Magnus out of his stupor, though his reaction was delayed, almost sluggish.
“Alexander?” he asked. His voice was rough; neither of them had said a word since they climbed out of bed that morning.
“Every year,” Alec said, “we sit on this couch and do the same exact thing. We sit here and we do nothing. You stare at the wall. I stare at my phone. Nothing ever changes.”
Magnus didn’t have anything to say to that. It was the truth, after all.
“Something needs to change, Magnus,” Alec pleaded, and he hadn’t cried in so long but tonight it felt like he might.
“I know,” Magnus said and ducked his head to the floor, “I know.”
It was silent for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a minute or so. Alec leaned back, scrubbing his hands over his face, desperately trying to erase the nothingness he felt deep within.
“Did I ever get around to telling you why I chose Diana?” he asked, “I mean, we all know why I chose Sophia for her middle name. There’s no real story behind that- but Diana has a story.”
“I don’t think you did, no,” Magnus said, and he almost swore that he felt his lips twitch upwards.
“When Izzy and I were kids, we got super into Roman mythology,” Alec started, “It was insane. It drove our parents up the wall.”
Magnus didn’t say anything, but he wondered how he never knew that about Alec. He’d always believed they told each other everything.
“In all honesty, it wasn’t a very long phase, and I mostly forgot about it,” he continued, “But the story of Diana and Apollo always stuck with me.”
Magnus hummed. It was appropriate, really. Alec, the strong, serious older brother with a younger sister that shone so bright you could barely look and an outgoing personality to boot.
“Back then, Iz and I would pretend that she was Apollo and I was Diana. As I got older, and after we met, I started thinking what it might be like to have kids. And I thought, what if I had a daughter? What would I name her?”
Alec shook his head at the memories, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips.
“I always circled back to Diana. Every time. And, you know, it was just perfect giving her Izzy’s middle name on top of it. It was like my little girl could have both of us with her, all the time,” Alec sighed, and Magnus felt a tightness in his chest when he saw the tear escape, “And now she’s gone, and she’s scared and alone and I- I wish I had told her that. There are so many things I wish I could tell her now, so many things I wish I had told her before.”
Maybe then she wouldn’t be gone.
December 24, 2018, 10:03 PM, Boston, MA
“You know,” James said after a moment of contemplation, “There’s still a lot that I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean?” Diana asked, confused, “I told you. I had a fight with my dads over something stupid. I pissed them off. I packed a bag and left. What more do you need to know to be able to understand?”
“Well, for one,” James said, “Why would you run? Your story made it very clear that you love your dads, and they love you. Why make the decision to leave?”
“I don’t know,” Diana confessed, “It seemed like the right idea at the time. I wanted to be able to choose my own friends without them trying to convince me they were bad people, and every time they yelled it felt more and more like they were protecting me from nothing. I wanted to make my own decisions.”
“Every child does go through that, at one point or another,” James agreed, “But there is another thing I can’t quite grasp.”
“What?”
“Why can’t you go back?”
November 18, 2015, 7:34 PM, New York, NY
The dinner table was silent. Magnus had insisted they eat before they have any sort of conversation, but it was tense and uncomfortable and honestly, he almost regretted it.
Diana moved to get up from the dinner table, and Magnus cleared his throat pointedly. She rolled her eyes and plopped back down in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
“So I guess you’re on his side in all this?” she asked him, and her tone was so scathing it took Magnus aback.
“First of all, young lady,” Magnus began, “Just because you are angry with us does not give you the right to use that manner of tone with us. And don’t roll your eyes at me, either. Your father and I treat you with every ounce of respect that you deserve, we expect the same from you.”
“Right, because people who respect me tell me that I’m not old enough to pick my own friends or choose who I spend my time with, right?”
“I never told you that you can’t choose who you hang out with, Diana,” Alec stepped in, “What I said was that you ought to be careful with who you do choose. The world is not kind, I know you know that. I only want what’s best for you.”
“I’m old enough to know who’s bad and who isn’t!” she screeched, angry tears flowing down her face.
“We know that, but-” Magnus tried.
“But nothing! All you ever do is control what I say and what I do and I’m fucking sick of it!”
“Language!” Alec snapped.
“That is exactly what I mean,” Diana cried, “It’s just a word! Why can’t I say it? Fuck!”
“That is enough from you,” Magnus said, standing from his chair, “Your father and I have tried being gentle, we have tried being kind, but clearly it has not been effective. You’re grounded. No technology, no hanging out outside of school events. I will be taking you to school in the morning, and I will be having a conversation with your teachers and the principal about your behavior.”
“What?” Diana yelled, “That’s not fair-!”
“Fair or not, I have already decided.” Magnus said, “Go to your room. I will be up shortly to collect your phone and your laptop.”
Diana stormed off, screaming all the way up. She slammed the door, and the sound echoed throughout the loft.
Sharing a knowing look with his husband, Magnus gathered the dishes and brought them to the kitchen. Alec followed him, wrapping his arms around his waist gently. Magnus intertwined their fingers and leaned back into his embrace, sighing.
“I know,” Alec muttered, pressing a kiss into his neck, “I’ll go up there.”
“Alec-” Magnus tried, but Alec shushed him.
“You were the judge and the jury tonight,” Alec insisted, “I’ll be the executioner.”
Magnus smirked and sat up, turning to face his husband. He patted him on the chest reassuringly.
“Hurry back, then.”
Alec grinned, placing one last kiss on Magnus’ lips before he made his way upstairs. As he reached his daughter’s bedroom, he knocked three times. No response. He rolled his eyes.
“I’m coming in, Diana,” he announced, pushing the door open.
Dead silence. Peering in, he looked around the room. The door to the ensuite bathroom was closed and Diana was not in the bedroom, so he shrugged and assumed she was wiping her face after crying. He noted the laptop and phone laying on the bedspread and walked over to them, picking them up and settling them in the crook of his left arm. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked three times.
“Go away,” came the muffled, sniffling voice of his daughter.
“It’s dad,” he called, “I have your phone and your laptop.”
“Whatever, I don’t care,” she said, and he nodded.
“Goodnight, Diana.”
He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and made a quick pitstop to his and Magnus’ room to keep the phone and laptop until further notice. He returned back downstairs and raised his arms in a sort of victory pose.
“Completely painless,” he remarked, “She was in the bathroom, but she had the stuff on her bed.”
Magnus sighed, taking a deep sip of wine and collapsing on the couch. Alec sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close. He pressed a kiss into his hair for a moment, eyes screwed shut.
“Whoever said raising teenagers is hard is an idiot,” Magnus muttered, “There are no words to describe how difficult this is.”
Alec hummed, running his fingers through his husband’s hair.
“Maybe the next one won’t be so difficult,” he suggested playfully.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Magnus laughed, “We are nowhere near ready for a second, especially not a baby. If we think Diana is bad now, imagine trying to introduce another child in her life.”
“You’re right,” Alec conceded, “But who said anything about a baby?”
“I suppose,” Magnus hummed, “Maybe we can talk about it once we adjust to the new Diana.”
Alec laughed, not disagreeing.
Later that night, as they were getting ready to go to bed, Alec suggested they go say goodnight to Diana. They hadn’t heard any noise from her bedroom the past four hours, but they figured she was still upset and shrugged it off. Still, seeing their daughter at the end of the night always brought them comfort.
Knocking on the door, they didn’t really expect any sort of response, but they waited a moment after anyways. When no response came, Magnus announced their entrance and opened the door. The lights were off, and it was cold. Magnus shivered and turned on the light, concern for his daughter’s health trumping his desire to let her rest should she be asleep.
The lights flickered on and he gasped in horror. The window by her bed was wide open, and her sheets were rumpled as if she had been standing on the bed. Her clothes were scattered across her room and her school bag was missing.
“Alexander,” Magnus gasped.
“I’ll call the police,” Alec said, immediately running off to find the phone.
Magnus stood there, shocked to his core. His hand was still raised, resting on the light switch, trembling violently. Sucking in another breath, he began to sob.
December 24, 2015, New York, NY
They’d been searching for over a month now, and still, there was no news. They had searched every back alley 10 times, they’d checked the train stations, CCTV footage, everything they could possibly think of.
Their little girl was gone.
That first night, the police had assured them that there was no reason to believe Diana wouldn’t return of her own free will. They would search, in the meantime, but until then it was just a matter of waiting.
3 days later, when they still had nothing, Alec’s stepfather- Luke, a former cop- suggested they buy advertisements to help look for her. They chose the most recent photo they had of her and released a standard description: southeast asian, female, brown hair, brown eyes, five-feet-3-inches tall, one hundred and twenty pounds, born December 24 of 2003, missing since November 15 of 2015.
Nothing came up.
They sat on the couch, Alec staring at his phone and Magnus staring at the wall. They’d stopped turning on the television a week after she had gone missing, weary of the news reports and not willing to entertain themselves.
So they sat. And they waited.
But she didn’t come home.
December 23, 2016, 1:34 AM, Milford, CT
Diana knew three things. One: ever since she left home, she hadn’t stopped walking. Two: she misses her dads, but she can’t go home. Three: she hasn’t eaten in almost 2 days.
The hunger pains were the worst. The fatigue and the blurry vision she could handle, but every time she found herself stuck in a position like this, the worst thing was the pain.
She had always despised pain.
She does her best to distract herself, but without energy, there isn’t much to do. She can’t think of home; there’s no going back there, she knows, so what’s the point? She doesn’t have any friends to talk to; on the streets, there was no such thing as friendship. At least not for her, at least.
So she wanders from street to street, an hour at a time, searching for a bite to carry her through.
Every so often, someone will walk by, and she’ll hold out the styrofoam cup she keeps with her, begging for change.
Most people scoff or ignore her. Some are kind enough to give a few coins, but none stop for long or give too much.
She spots a man walking towards her and she holds out her cup, praying to gods she doesn’t believe in for something.
The man reaches into his pockets when he spots her, and when he finds what he’s looking for, he walks up and leans over to place it in her cup. He straightens and leaves, and she breathes a heavy sigh of relief.
Looking down to see what fortunes he had bestowed, she freezes at the sight of green. She snaps her head back up, but the man is long gone. With trembling fingers, she reaches into the cup to see how much, and she gasps once more.
Sitting in her hands is 3 $100 bills and a small note. She unfurls the note and reads it, tears stinging her eyes.
Merry Christmas and may God bless your soul. I can only hope this kindness brings a smile upon your face and light into your life.
December 24, 2018, 10:08 PM, Boston, MA
“You left out of anger,” James said, “and you never looked back. Until you did.”
“Until I did,” she agreed.
“And by that point, you were so far from home, there was no point in turning back?”
“That’s right,” Diana agreed, “I know my dads love me, and I love them, too, but…”
“But?”
“They’ve moved on by now. I know it.”
“Do you, though?” James pushed, tilting his head, “You say you know the entire story, but I don’t think you do.”
“And what makes you think that, oh wise one?” Diana bit back sarcastically, scowling at the man.
“Only years of experience,” James chuckled, “Listen, Diana. There is always more than one side to a story. You’re always privy to at least one, but never all.”
“Maybe so,” Diana muttered, “But there’s no way they’d take me back after everything I’ve put them through.”
“Diana, do you miss your parents?”
“Of course I do,” Diana insisted.
“Then what makes you believe they do not miss you as well?” James asked.
“I know they do,” Diana said, “But we have to let go of those we love. That’s life.”
“This is true, but perhaps they’re not ready for that just yet,” James said, “Especially with the hope that you may still be out there.”
Diana didn’t respond to that. She picked at the thread of her hoodie, and James heaved a deep sigh as he stood. He brushed his khaki trousers and turned to face her.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting rest sometime tonight,” James said, “I’ll leave you, but when you wake, I want you to consider long and hard about what you want, even if you think you can not have it. Maybe then life will fall back into place as it should.”
Diana furrowed her eyebrows in confusion but nodded at the man, “Thank you,” she called out as he walked away, “for listening to me.”
James turned back and shrugged, “It’s what I do.”
And then he was gone.
December 25, 2018, 3:07 AM, New York, NY
Alec laughed lightly as Magnus finished his story. All night, they had been sharing memories of Diana, fighting to keep her spirit close.
“She’s so stubborn,” Alec sighed, downing the rest of the wine.
“I miss her,” Magnus said, somber.
Alec just nodded in agreement.
There were no words to make up for the loss of a child.
December 25, 2018, 3:07 AM, Boston, MA
Diana woke up with a jolt, and the notebook that had been resting in her lap fell to the floor noisily. A rat scattered away, startled by the sudden noise, and Diana rubbed her eyes.
Leaning down to pick up the journal, she frowned. She didn’t remember falling asleep but she was fairly certain she hadn’t been holding a journal when she’d slipped into unconsciousness.
Suddenly, she remembered James’ words to her.
There is always more than one side to a story. You’re always privy to at least one, but never all. I want you to think long and hard about what you want, even if you believe you can not have it. Maybe then life will fall back into place as it should.
She smiled; this must have been James’ form of a joke, she supposed. Flipping open the journal, she caressed the soft pages, admiring the craftsmanship. Her Aunt Clary had instilled an appreciation for the arts in her when she was young, and it had never quite left her.
Flipping through, she furrowed her brows when she found an envelope resting in the middle. She picked it up, marveling its presence for a moment before tearing it open. Inside was a plane ticket to New York City, set to leave at 6 AM. Behind the ticket was $1000 in cash: enough for a cab ride and anything else she may need in between. Behind these two items, though, was what made her sob and press her hand to her face.
A photograph, dated December 25, 2003. In the photo was her, just a tiny newborn at the time, in the arms of her papa. Her dad stood next to him. Neither of them was looking at the camera; their focus was reserved entirely for her.
Stuffing the items into her bag, she ran and ran and ran. She hailed a cab and hopped in, frantically requesting a ride to the airport.
She could finally come home.
December 25, 2018, 8:34 AM, New York, NY
She could still remember the address of her old home, so the moment she touched down to New York, she acquired a cab and demanded a ride there.
It was about halfway there she realized that they may have moved in the time she had been gone, and the nerves hit. She fidgeted nervously, tapping her foot and chewing on her thumbnail. The cab pulled in front of the building and she handed him one of the 100 dollar bills, rushing from the cab without bothering to get the change back.
Money didn’t really matter anymore.
Despite her anxiety, she climbed the steps to her dads' apartment and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the Lightwood-Bane plaque hanging by the door. Reaching underneath her hoodie, she pulled out a small chain with a silver key attached to it, biting her lip, hoping beyond everything that the key would work.
She inserted the key and was about to turn when she heard a peal of laughter coming from inside. She recognized it as her papa’s. She paused as all her regrets about coming home came rushing back all at once.
What if they didn’t want her? Resting her head against the cold wood of the door, she felt the tears escape. Moving to turn back, she gasped when she realized she could hear what they were saying from inside. She pressed her ear harder against the door and waited.
“She was a mess alright,” her dad laughed brightly, “But she was our mess.”
“Oh, for sure,” her papa cried, laughing along with his husband, “It’s what made her special, really.”
There was a pause, and she wasn’t sure if they had stopped talking or if she just couldn’t hear what they were saying. She pressed harder, her body flush with the door, the key digging harshly into her hip.
“I just wish she would come home. It’s all I ever wanted, ever since she left that night,” her dad said.
Rushing back, Diana lifted a hand to her mouth. They wanted her back. They always had, they still do. Rushing forward again, she gripped the key in her hands and pushed, swinging the door open.
“Daddy! Papa!” she cried loudly, launching herself into the arms of her shell-shocked parents.
“Diana…?” Alec said, his voice broken, “Oh my god, it’s really you!”
Lifting her up with ease, Alec tightened his grip around her and sobbed. He let her down, but Magnus was quick to pick her up next, crying softly into her neck. He set her down, too, taking her in.
“My god, you’re so different, now,” Magnus muttered with awe.
“I missed you guys so much,” Diana sniffed, “I’m so sorry, I-”
“Hush, baby,” Magnus said, “It’s alright. All that matters is that you’re back.”
“Yeah, I am,” she agreed, smiling through the tears and the snot.
She launched herself at them once more, gripping tightly as she promised herself that she would never let go.
December 25, 2018, 10:07 AM, New York, NY
Magnus walked in from the bedroom, smiling at his sleeping daughter on the couch. Her head was in Alec’s lap, his fingers cascading through her hair.
“I just got off the phone with Maryse and Luke,” he informed his husband, sitting on the other end of the couch by Diana’s feet, “they were delighted to hear that Diana is home, but they said they would give us until tomorrow before visiting. The others all said the same thing when I spoke to them.”
“Who all did you talk to?” Alec asked, not removing his gaze from Diana’s sleeping form.
“I talked to Isabelle, Simon, Maia, Clary, Jace, and Lydia first. They were all together for breakfast,” Magnus said, “I talked to Cat, Ragnor, Raphael, and Madzie next. They were also gathered together for breakfast. Jem, Tessa, Will, and the kids were all together as well when I spoke to them.”
“I guess with it being Christmas it would be easier to tell the news to everyone,” Alec joked.
Magnus laughed but didn’t say anything. He rested his hand on Diana’s feet, caressing the skin softly.
“I still keep thinking I’ll wake up and realize this was all just a cruel dream,” Magnus whispered.
“Me too.”
They sat in silence for a few more moments, basking in the elation of finally having their baby home again. There was a part of Magnus that had started to believe his daughter had died, and that she was never coming home. He’d never been happier to be so wrong.
The 3 years since Diana had left had been rough for them. The only reason they were even still together, though Magnus was loathed to admit it, was because of the hope that Diana would return. They’d kept the apartment, the locks, the phone numbers all the same so that Diana could someday find her way home.
“We should go to bed,” Magnus whispered, “I’m sure she misses sleeping in a real bed.”
“I don’t want to leave her yet, Magnus,” Alec choked.
“We’re not going to,” Magnus promised, “We can all fit in our bed. It will be fine.”
Alec nodded, and Magnus stood to pick her up. She was light as a feather, and it broke Magnus’ heart to know that she weighed less now than she did the day she had left. Alec followed him to the bedroom, adjusting the covers so that Magnus could lay her down in the middle. Once she was situated, Alec pulled the covers over her sleeping form and kissed her forehead. They both climbed in on either side of her, snuggling close.
“She’s home,” Alec whispered as if it had finally sunk in.
“She’s home,” Magnus agreed.
Now that their hearts had been lightened of the distinct and unending emptiness that was unique to the loss of a child, Magnus and Alec could finally sleep peacefully. With unspoken promises of never letting go hanging in the air, the Lightwood-Banes allowed themselves to rest for the first time in three years.
Diana Sophia Lightwood-Bane had finally found her way home.
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 9th
by @lakritzwolf | ao3
Fireworks
Magnus has invited what he fondly calls ‘his family’ for New Year’s Eve because he loves hosting parties so much, and he puts the same care and dedication into the party that he always does. There’s a large buffet, sushi and tapas and several pasta dishes and salads, plus a choice of blood types in beautiful carafes.
On the other side of the loft, Magnus is manning the cocktail bar and is having a blast.
“You really know how to host a party,” Jace says at one point, saluting Magnus with his glass.
“Of course I do.” Magnus smiles brightly at him and magicks a little paper umbrella into Jace’s drink. “I’m Magnus Bane!”
Jace grins and knocks back his glass, and Magnus fills it again with a snap of his fingers. After saluting him again Jace goes to find Clary, and slips the umbrella into her hair. She feigns annoyance, but isn’t trying very hard to keep up the act.
Close to midnight they wake Madzie so she can watch the fireworks with them, and wrapped in coats and scarves they all head up to the roof. A few impatient people have been firing rockets for hours, but now the activities around them are picking up. It’s Luke who starts the countdown, and at the stroke of midnight, they all cheer and embrace and exchange best wishes for the New Year while above them, the sky is alight in flashes of gold and silver and starbursts of red and green and blue.
Magnus and Alec stand there hand in hand and watch the colourful lights burst into showers of sparks, but after a particularly spectacular explosion fills the half the sky with a gigantic waterfall of gold, Alec lets go of Magnus’ hands to look at him.
Magnus smiles and tilts his head, and Alec takes one of his hands again, between his own. He looks down, and touches Magnus’ rings, one by one. Then he takes his favourite one, a serpent biting its own tail with eyes made of tiny rubies, and slips it off Magnus’ finger. Magnus blinks a few times, his eyebrows almost rising into his hairline, but Alec just keeps looking at the ring that he rolls between thumb and forefinger. It’s not the first time that he does something like this, but he only toys with Magnus’ jewellery when he’s nervous and needs to get something off his chest.
Above them, the sky explodes in a shower of blue and golden sparks.
Alec toys with the ring for another moment; he slips it onto his little finger and twists it around, clearly trying to find words but failing. Eventually he looks at Magnus again. Flashes of gold reflect in their eyes as above them, another rocket explodes.
“Magnus,” he says again, hesitantly and clearly nervous. He pulls the ring off his little finger. “I know that... I know that we’re not... we don’t have much time, compared to how long you already lived, and how long you’re going to live once I’m...” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “God, this is so...” Another deep, deep breath, and he opens his eyes again.
Magnus watches him intently, and his shoulders are tense, but rising and falling with heavier, faster breaths than before. Red and golden scintillations set the sky on fire.
“Magnus,” Alec says for the third time. “I know I said I don’t want to grow old and feeble on you, and I really don’t know how this is all going to work out, but... I just...” He finally meets Magnus’ eyes.
And he slowly sinks down onto one knee as above them, several flowers of brilliant white rain a shower of gold and silver sparks from the sky.
“I want to spend the time that I have with you,” Alec says and holds out his hand. “Magnus, will you marry me?”
Magnus stares at him, as if he has been turned to stone. The brilliant lights reflect in his eyes, but the sparks vanish in a film of moisture.
“Alexander,” he whispers, and keeps looking down at Alec with parted lips. “Alexander, I...”
Alec still looks up at him, Magnus’ ring in his palm.
“Yes,” Magnus whispers then, and clears his throat. “Yes,” he says again, a tear running down his cheek. “Alexander, I... yes... Yes, I will marry you.”
The smile that now appears on Alec’s face is so bright it rivals even the most luminous and beautiful fireworks. Then Magnus holds out his hand to him, and Alec slips the ring back onto Magnus’ hand, on the ring finger of his left hand this time. He has hardly the time to get onto his feet again before Magnus has his arms around him.
“I’m sorry...” Alec mutters into Magnus’ hair. “I should have… I didn’t... this was kind of... a spur of the moment decision and-”
“Alexander,” Magnus says and peels his face out of Alec’s shoulder. “It was perfect.”
Before Alec can say something else Magnus cradles his face in his hand and he kisses Alec with everything he has. Alec pulls him close, and they deepen their kiss, clearly forgetting everything and everyone around them.
And when they finally part, it’s Izzy who breaks the silence with a victorious little squeal. They both look a little flustered as their friends clap and cheer, and after dozens of hugs and backslaps and more hugs, Luke calls for champagne. Magnus doesn’t need a second invitation.
Both Alec and Magnus still have moist eyes as they clink their glasses together, but they are smiling, bright and happy smiles of pure joy.
“I think I better get you a proper ring now, I guess,” Alec says a little sheepishly.
“Alexander,” Magnus says and shakes his head with a lovesick smile. “You could give me a ring made of Play-doh and I’d be the happiest man on earth.”
His cheeks glowing, Alec chuckles and takes a sip of his champagne.
“Are we going to hyphenate?” Magnus asks after taking a sip himself.
It takes Alec a moment to take on, and the glow on his cheeks darkens “Sounds good to me, Mr Lightwood-Bane,” he replies with a soft smile.
“I love the sound of that name,” Magnus says and leans closer. “And I’m looking very much forward to making this official, Mr Lightwood-Bane.”
They share another kiss, deep love and warm affection, and they know that whatever the future may hold, they made the right decision.
MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 17th
by VOlympianlove
In Time
The wind cut like a knife to the bone the moment he stepped out of the heated car and into the snowy driveway. He pulled his heavy coat closer to his body, running a hand through his already snow dusted hair. The doorman nodded at him before the car was driving away.
He pushed open the door of the house as gently as he could, fearful of alerting the inhabitants of his presence before he wished to be revealed. The snowflakes in his hair melted immediately from the heat emitting from the large fire burning in the hearth of the living room. His coat shed more flakes of white onto the welcome mat as he hung it up, smiling as he inhaled the scent of cinnamon and apples that wafted through the air.
Crossing the room, he placed his pistol into the safe built into the wall for this very purpose and hung up his sword on the weapons rack. Carefully, he toed off his boots, all the while listening out for the sound of footsteps on the stairs and around the house, but no one seemed to have noticed his presence quite yet.
Smiling as he walked past the mantle, he stroked the faux fur trim of a little stocking hanging above the hearth and straightened a crooked wreath carefully before approaching the stairs. Most of the lights had been turned out to conserve energy but he could still make out the silvery tinsel wrapped around the banister and the glittery baubles that always accompanied them.
The clock chimed and he ascended the stairs as quickly as he could, wincing when one of them creaked underfoot. He froze for a moment, afraid that he would be discovered but the voices continued. He gripped the banister tighter, his footsteps silenced by the plush red carpet as he crept up the rest of the stairs, trying his best to avoid the creaky ones.
Light was spilling out from one of the rooms, the door slightly ajar. From within, he could hear the sound of children laughing and someone else that made his heart fill joy. He touched his fingertips against the door, gently pushing it farther open.
He could tell the very moment they saw him because all noise in the room stopped.
For a brief moment there was silence, the three faces staring up at him in disbelief. He held out his arms, unable to stop the smile from curving on his face.
“Hi,” the children broke first, joyful laughter spilling forth as they pounced, wrapping their arms around his waist and legs, whichever that they could reach, squealing with absolute delight as he enveloped them in his long arms, hugging and kissing fluffy heads and cheerful faces.
His partner was still staring when the children had had their fill, latching onto his hands tightly as if they never wanted to let go again. He cocked his head, smiling, a little uncertainly this time, and then yelped in shock when he found himself with an armful of his husband, barely able to release the children’s hands to catch him in time.
“Hi,” the words were soft, tender, murmured into his ear as he stroked broad strokes down his husband’s back, blinking back happy tears at the sound of his beloved’s voice. The children watched for as long as they could, before starting to yell, citing that they were disgusting, and that they wanted their pirate back.
“Hi Magnus,” he mumbled back, as if that was all he was capable of saying at the moment, overwhelmed by the happiness of being home, at last. He carded fingers through his husband’s hair, appreciating the softness of it being let down for bedtime before leaning down to press a chaste kiss on his lips.
When they pulled away, Magnus was staring at him, thumb rubbing over the corner of his lips, as if still in shock. He lifted his hand, lacing their fingers together tightly and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.
“I can’t- I didn’t think you would make it,” Magnus whispered, looking for all the world as if he thought this was a dream. He wanted to kiss him again, to reassure him that he was indeed, back home in time for the holidays.
“I didn’t either,” he replied instead, smiling weakly and Magnus gave in, wrapping him in another hug, burying his face into the crook of his neck. The boys were restless now and the little one was pushing himself between them and trying to climb into Daddy’s arms.
“I’m glad you’re home, Alexander,” Magnus murmured, stepping back so that he could scoop up the little devil from the floor. Alec grinned back, his eyes full of love and joy.
