#makosmonkey

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Makosmonkey!

*****

Christmas Party AU – Yankee Swap

“Alec, stop worrying and start trusting me. You called me for a reason, didn’t you?” Alec rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“Good. Thank you.” His sister was starting to sound irritated. “Dark wash jeans, one of your work button downs, and the black pullover sweater I got you for Christmas last year. You still have it, right?”

“Yes, Iz. Somewhere. I think,” Alec muttered, emptying his shirt drawers to look for the sweater he definitely hadn’t worn. He didn’t remember donating it, so there was still hope.

“Okay, found it.”

“What do you mean, ‘found it’? Ugh, you really haven’t worn it, have you? You know, I go through a lot of effort looking for things that suit you but aren’t ten miles out of your comfort zone….”

Alec stopped listening.

“Thanks Iz, I owe you one,” he said as he jabbed the END CALL button on his phone. He hated fussing over clothes, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that he made a good impression tonight. Or, at least, a better impression than what his typical wardrobe of well-worn jackets usually did. Izzy knew style, hence his last-minute panicked call for advice.

Alec raced through the shower and threw the prescribed outfit on, combing his hair before heading downstairs to the kitchen. The invitation clipped to the fridge said the party started at 6pm, and it was already 5:57. He stared at the gift he’d picked up that afternoon on his way home, still wrapped in its plastic bag from the store. “Fuck. Wrapping.”

He ran back upstairs to his guest room, shoving the closet doors open and praying that there’d be something he could use. There. A roll of plain green wrapping paper, most likely left over from his sister from when she had stayed with him over the summer. Perhaps he owed Izzy more than one favor at this point.

Back downstairs, Alec hastily wrapped the gift and grabbed the bottle of Pinot he brought for Luke every year, nearly stumbling on his way out the door. Calm down, he told himself. It’s just a party. He picked his way down the sidewalk and around a stray snowbank or two, thankful that at least he didn’t have to worry about parking; the street was already packed with cars.

Luke’s house was, by far, the most decorated one in the neighborhood. Wreaths topped with red ribbons hung on every window and candles shone from every sill. He must have used something like a mile of string lights because every single edge of the house dripped in softly glowing icicles. The giant tree in the foyer was visible from where Alec stood on the sidewalk, glittering with silver and gold ornaments.

But never mind the decorations – Alec had to remember that tonight, he was on a mission. It was time. It was past time, really. He’d just have to buck up and be brave, and do the thing he came here to do.

Right. Here goes nothing.

He rang the doorbell and was immediately greeted by Luke, fashionably dressed in no less than Saint Nick’s signature red velvet suit, arms held wide open.

“Bro-ho-ho! Alec!”

Alec snorted and shook his head. “Really, Luke?”

“Yes, really. Tonight, I’m Santa. Don’t diss the beard man, and come on in.” Alec handed Luke the bottle of wine and followed him through the kitchen and into the den, where a second tree was set up, cluttered with presents underneath. Alec looked around the room, taking in a few familiar faces that were already paired off in deep conversations.

“Ah, almost forgot. Here,” Luke shoved a stocking toward Alec and gestured inside. Alec drew out a folded post-it note with the number seven on it and shoved it in his pocket.

“Put your gift under the tree and make yourself comfortable, Alec. Mix and mingle, like Ol’ Kris Kringle,” Luke chuckled, already backing toward the kitchen to greet his next guest. “Oh, and Maia insisted on taking over Nog duty this year, so… well, just be careful not to stand next to any open flames, if you get my drift,” Luke said over his shoulder.

Alec smiled. “Gotcha.” He turned toward the makeshift bar set up at the back of the room and raised his hand in hello to Maia.

Internally, though, he was groaning. This was the part of the party he always hated. Not this party specifically, but really, any party. Small talk was much more Izzy’s thing, even their little brother Max was better at it. For god’s sake, he was a thirty-year-old man and he couldn’t even manage to attend a party by himself without feeling awkward and out of place. He busied himself by heading to the kitchen to make a plate of appetizers; at least he’d look normal holding some food.

Before settling down in an empty chair, Alec took a loop through the crowd in each room, pretending to look for someone in particular. Well, perhaps it wasn’t pretend. That didn’t mean he actually intended to talk to the person he was looking for. Not right away, at least. He’d have to come up with a something to say first.

Alec looked down at his plate, trying to identify what was in the pile that had been labeled “Mexican Dip” that he’d generously scooped onto his plate. There wasn’t much “Mexican” about it, and the cheese had re-solidified. Maybe it was best to just leave it be for now.

“Ah, alcohol; helping us survive Christmas one sip at a time. It’s Alexander, right?” Alec nearly choked on the bacon wrapped scallop he’d been chewing on. He turned toward the voice and found he was being handed a festively decorated Solo cup filled to the brim with eggnog. Magnus.

Magnus, who was loud, attractive, and always perfectly— though often unexpectedly— dressed. Alec raised his eyes to meet Magnus’, immediately imagining himself melting into a puddle just like Frosty the Snowman threatened to. Magnus was generally flirtatious with everyone, but Alec hadn’t been able to help but watch him from a safe distance every year. Alec had come here tonight with the express intention of at the very least talking with him, and if he was feeling brave enough, hopefully flirting back.

Alec had attended Luke’s annual Christmas party almost every year he’d lived on the street, but this was the first time he’d be attending as an officially out and proud gay man. Well, out. Proud was still a work in process, no thanks to the ongoing icy relationship with his parents. Logically he knew he had nothing to be ashamed about and that his sexuality was nobody’s business but his own, but his mother’s sharp tongue and father’s disinterested tone still tended to cut at him unexpectedly, even a year after coming out to them. That announcement, or actually the resulting blow up, is what had kept him from missing the party—his annual opportunity to oogle Magnus Bane—last year.

Alec stared at the drink in his hand, trying and failing miserably to come up with something to say that wasn’t ‘finally’ or ‘thank god.’

“You looked like you could use a drink; did I read that wrong?” Magnus asked him.

Alec felt completely too caught off guard to properly respond. He thought he’d have more time to plan this interaction, why is his brain suddenly blank?!

Alec shuffled his feet and was saved from further embarrassment by Luke shouting from the kitchen.

“Come one, come all! Get your asses to my den so we can get this party started!”

Alec snorted. It sounded like Luke had been sampling some of Maya’s eggnog.

Magnus touched Alec’s elbow lightly. “Well, shall we?”

Still terribly confused, Alec followed Magnus. Why on earth was Magnus talking to him? Of all the people at this party, Alec had to look the least sociable. There were far better conversationalists; even Dot, his 80-year-old neighbor, could keep a person interested long enough to tell a story or two.

They made their way through the crowd and took a seat on the stairs in the corner of the room.

“All right, thank you everyone for coming. It’s always nice to end the year with all of your faces and all of this booze.”

“Hurrah!”

“Anyway. Thanks for all the presents, you can all go home now.”

“Fo’ real this time! To those of you who haven’t had the extreme pleasure of participating in our little holiday extravaganza exchange, here are the house rules: each of you has brought a wrapped gift and put it under the tree. When you arrived, you were given a folded piece of paper with a number on it. Whichever of you lucky sonsabitches has the number 1 will pull a gift from under the tree and unwrap it for all to see. Because there were some, uh, shall we say disagreements, last year, I will allow visual inspection of the gifts. You may pick them up and gently shake them, just don’t unwrap them until you’ve made your choice. And, Mr. Bane… apparently you need the reminder that there will be NO CHOOSING OF THE GIFT YOU BROUGHT.”

“But I bring fabulous gifts!” Magnus exclaimed, clearly disappointed that he’d been caught out. Alec stifled a chuckle.

“Anyway, the next guest will choose a gift from under the tree and model it, and then that sucker gets to choose to either keep that gift or choose from one that has already been opened. I am placing NO LIMITS on the number of times a particular gift can be stolen, or the number of times a poor soul can be stolen from.”

“Ah, I see we’ve graduated to the ‘Dirty’ version of the game,” Magnus murmured. Alec turned to look at him and found Magnus smirking, eyes filled with glee. Alec raised an eyebrow in question, but Magnus just responded with a shake of his head.

“We will continue in this manner until all those presents are unwrapped and we swing back around to number 1 again – who has that, by the way?”

*Ragnor raises his hand*

“Ok, Ragnor… at the very end, you get to choose from all the gifts, including the one you unwrap”

“Damn it, that means I’m stuck here.”

“You were stuck here anyway, my friend. No one leaves until we’re done…. With both the presents and the booze!”

Alec looked down at the folded paper in his hand. Hastily scribbled on it was the number seven. So much for lucky number seven… he’d only have a handful of gifts to choose from unless someone stole his gift near the end of the game. Magnus peered over his shoulder to steal a glance at Alec’s paper with a smile and a murmured “Perfect.”

Perfect? Maybe Magnus had been looking at something else. But Alec’s attention was quickly drawn to Ragnor grumpily unwrapping the gift in the pile that had been closest to him. He finally managed to get the box open after struggling with a particularly stubborn tape job and a soft-looking throw blanket slid out of the package, piling at Ragnor’s feet.

“Lovely,” Ragnor muttered with great distaste. He shoved the blanket into the corner of the chair he occupied and crossed his arms. “Next victim!”

“Ah ah ah, Ragnor, you have to model it!” chastised Luke. Ragnor looked at him in horror, but then bucked up and shook the blanket open to drape it around him. Alec tried to stifle a giggle, but seeing the grouchiest man he knew draped in a Snuggie was wonderfully entertaining.

“However this night ends, this moment right here has already surpassed my expectations,” Magnus said beside him, shamelessly clicking off a half a dozen photos of Ragnor pouting in his chair.

Alec nervously stood to choose his gift from the tree. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to choose the gift and open it so publicly. Something about being on display like this always made him uncomfortable. He reached for a smaller square box wrapped in purple and silver paper – at least it was practically guaranteed not to be a Snuggie. He turned around to unwrap the gift in view of the rest of the party and was relieved when the paper peeled aside to reveal a Bluetooth speaker. Huh. Something he’d actually enjoy taking home for once. “A Bluetooth speaker!” he called out to the rest of the crowd, holding it up for those who might not be able to see it.

“Nice!”

“Excellent choice, Alexander,” Magnus praised him when he returned to his seat.

“Thanks. Although I guess I should really be thanking whoever brought it. This is a pretty cool gift.”

“You’re very welcome, then.” Alec looked up, immediately caught by Magnus’ happy grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Alec.

“Back there, how did you—know my name?” came tumbling out of Alec’s mouth. Great. Perfect. Smooth, Alec.

“Well, I admit that it did take some detective work on my part. I had to ask Luke weeks ago if the brooding tall tree of a man would be attending this year, as I was remarkably disappointed by his absence last year,” Magnus said with a sly smile. “And there you were, brooding away in your corner.”

Alec ducked his head to try to hide the smile rising to his lips. “Well, you weren’t here yet. I had to wait somewhere.”

That seemed to spark something in Magnus’ eyes, at least.

“So it would seem. How have we gone this long without having a proper introduction? I’m Magnus,” he said, extending his hand. Alec took it in his own, immediately relishing the warmth radiating from Magnus’s palm.

“I know,” Alec said. “And I’m Alec, obviously.” Duh.

“Do you prefer Alec, or may I call you Alexander?”

“Uh…” Max’s sarcastic voice echoed in his head. You can call me anything you want, as long as you call me. “People usually call me Alec, but…” Alec trailed off, shrugging.

“Alexander it is, then.” Magnus smiled. “Something tells me that if I ask you to tell me about yourself, I won’t get the kind of detail I’m looking for. What if I were to ask you about this tattoo, instead?” As he posed the question, Magnus trailed a finger along Alec’s neck down his throat, causing goosebumps to chase after it.

“Ah, um. That’s… I guess you could call it a symbol of protection? It means ‘deflect.’”

“Like a shield?” Magnus asked, an eyebrow raised in interest.

“Exactly. I’ve had a lot of … well, my relationship with my parents has never been great. So when I got this one, it was like this reminder to myself to block out the bad things they said. Plus,” Alec found himself continuing, “having it so large and visible it may have really pissed them off.” He smiled. He can’t say he enjoyed that fight exactly, but he did feel freer afterward.

“I don’t doubt it,” Magnus chuckled. “Is that the only one you have?”

“No, I have quite a few, actually. But the rest aren’t so, well, visible,” Alec mumbled, feeling a blush rise. For a moment there, he’d been ready to take off his sweater and his shirt to show Magnus the tattoos on his torso.

“I see,” Magnus’ eyes glowed. “Or rather, I’d like to; at some point in the future. Perhaps this isn’t the time and place.”

Alec flushed and looked down at his hands. His attention is grabbed by the crowd around him laughing in unison; somehow, the game has moved on while he and Magnus been wrapped in their own little bubble. Someone had unwrapped a towel, half of it labeled “FACE” and the other half “BUTT”.

“Now that’s certainly more of a White Elephant gift than one for a Yankee Swap… can you say ‘regift’? Oh, that poor soul is stuck with that one, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t realize there was a difference between the two games.”

“Ah, then you must let me enlighten you. Popular theory is that the term ‘white elephant’ came from a story about the King of Siam, who was considered to be quite the evil genius. He had a brilliant way of exacting revenge on any courtier who dared displease him – he would present them with the precious gift of a rare albino elephant. At first, the unlucky courtier would be pleased as punch, thinking that they had impressed the King. But little did they know that caring for one of those elephants was a huge and costly pain in the backside and would likely lead them to financial ruin. As such, it was called a ‘fatal gift.’ I believe the story dates back to at least the 1850’s, but as far as I’m aware, no one has been able to verify that such a king existed. Nonetheless, the term still persists in popular culture.”

“Well I’m not sure that towel will lead anyone to financial ruin, but I guess I can’t say it’s a gift I would have liked to unwrap.”

Finally, Magnus springs to his feet when Luke calls for number twenty. Magnus tiptoes through the remaining gifts and makes his selection. He flings the tissues paper out of the bag until he reaches his prize: a poster-sized world map covered in the same scratch-off material lottery tickets are made of. Before Alec has a chance to realize what’s going on, Magnus has plucked the Bluetooth speaker out of Alec’s hands and replaced it with the map.

“Next number!” Magnus calls out as he reclaims his seat next to Alec, ever so closer than they had been before. Alec smirks. “I guess Luke didn’t forbid stealing your own gift, huh?”

“No, he did not make that distinction, did he?” Magnus asks around a wink.

The game continued around them and Alec is pulled back into his bubble with Magnus. They discover a shared love of tv shows (Magnus considers himself a bit of a pop culture whore) like the Runaways and the 100, and discuss how interests of younger generations typically have a bad reputation with older generations, even though the same values and lessons can be found in them. That topic carries them until Luke asks for number twenty-nine. Magnus, caught mid-sentence, raises a finger to Alec in a request to hold that thought and rises to select another package from the tree. He returns with another gift to plop in Alec’s lap and takes back the world map.

Alec is terribly confused.

“What—” is all he gets out before Magnus interrupts him with a wry smile and a finger to his own lips.

“Shhh, Alexander. You’ll see.”

Magnus takes the opportunity to ask Alec more about his tattoos, and Alec eventually stammers that each of the tattoos he’s chosen have both a deeper personal meaning and a purposeful placement on his body. That, in turn, leads to a rather lively discussion about deriving strength from elements of pop culture like music, shows, and movies, and how fictional characters can be inspirational figures in real life. Before they get too far down that path, they’re interrupted again.

It turns out, that in addition to numbers twenty and twenty nine, Magnus also has numbers thirty three and thirty seven. He steals Alec’s gift every single round. Finally, once he has seemingly completed his turns, he takes a moment to whisper in Alec’s ear.

“Luke never puts a limit on the number of gifts that can be brought to the exchange. If you bring multiple gifts, you get to take multiple gifts home. I see it as a way to increase my odds of taking home something I want. And before you ask, I had this plan to steal your gift every turn before I even walked in the door tonight. Speaking to you before the game and witnessing that adorable blush was just the cherry on top.”

Alec doesn’t even know where to begin.

“May I be presumptuous, Alexander?”

“If you must. I can probably handle it. Maybe.”

“Would you like to find some place a little less rowdy and continue our conversation over a nightcap?”

Alec takes a deep breath. “I know just the place, actually. And it has the benefit of being close by, since I don’t think any of these guys are in shape to move their cars.”

Alec helps Magnus with his coat and gestures down the sidewalk. Magnus takes his hand, and the words “cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we” echo in his head.

They continue their discussion of how tattoos have helped Alec unlock his truth (with each one he gets, he feels a little more sure about who he is and what he stands for, what he wants to fight for). Magnus responds that he feels that Alec has unlocked something in him as well.

Alec tugs on Magnus’ hand to pull him to a stop in front of his house. “Well, we’re here,” he stammers. Magnus chuckles, clearly surprised but pleased that Alec has led him here. Fuck, that’s probably the smoothest he’s ever been, and he has no proof for Izzy that he came up with it himself.

“May I ask another question, Alexander?”

“You can ask me anything you want, Magnus.”

“Do you believe in the theory of soulmates?”

“I believe it’s possible.”

And reader, he kissed the living daylights out of that man.