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The entirety of New York City’s downworlder population know or know of Magnus Bane. The High Warlock of Brooklyn is not a title left behind some trash can in an alley of Queens, it is flaunted at the fanciest parties in Brooklyn and Upper East Side.

And so it really comes as no surprise that when he starts dating a shadowhunter, Alec Lightwood’s name is spread about the same way. It is whispered in vampire dens, gossiped about in the Hunter’s Moon and Pandemonium is always on alert for any shadowhunters in its midst.

He’s the Lightwood’s son… He left his bride-to-be at the altar… He defied the Clave for a warlock… The Wolves almost killed his parabatai…

Seelies listen to the trees, wolves listen to the scattered word on the street, vampires all hear the new fledgling’s complaints (“he’s such an ass” or “sometimes I don’t get what Magnus sees in him” and “he does seem like a knight in shining armour, though”) and warlocks only have to look at Magnus’ affectionate expression whenever Alec’s name pops up in conversation to know he is something special.

The first time any downworlder (outside Magnus’ intimate circle) actually meets this mysterious beau of Magnus’ however, is probably the most inopportune time possible.

In the middle of a hoard of demons, fighting back to back with his blond parabatai, Alec is left unguarded when Jace darts off to defend Clary. A bolt of pink magic streaks past the archer’s ear and makes him turn in time to see several demons explode into ichor. The rest of the demons are finished off in much the same way, if not run through by Jace and Clary’s blades first, but there’s a young warlock girl standing in front of Alec when the filth clears.

Her glamours are down and they can see the swirling patterns glowing lavender against her dark skin. Her eyes are dark green and they stare into Alec’s hazel ones like she’s searching his soul.

Alec can feel Isabelle, Jace and Clary standing close to him, wary and ready for a fight at the drop of a hat, but the warlock still stares. She hasn’t moved since the last demon fell… Then she smiles. She has long canine teeth that poke out slightly when her lips stretch up and her voice is light as she speaks.

“Give the High Warlock my regards, shadowhunter.” She lifts a finger and a tightly bound scroll appears in Alec’s hand. When he looks back up, she’s gone.

It becomes a thing, for random downworlders to appear during hunts and lend their assistance, always sending Magnus their regards before vanishing into thin air. This time is no exception; Alec finds himself back to back with a vampire boy that he’s never seen before, but knows isn’t from Raphael’s clan from the way he moves.

Jace has disappeared to god knows where leaving Alec to pray that if something goes wrong he’s still close enough to come running.

The vampire moves quickly, vanishing and reappearing to guard Alec’s back before he can even really register he’s gone. He doesn’t even know the vamp’s name let alone why the guy is covering his ass. And he knows for sure that it’s not Magnus sending people to keep watch on him.

Magnus may do many things, but mollycoddle is not one of them.

Soon enough the demon hoard is wiped out, Jace reappears from a side door, Clary and Isabelle come from the other side and the vampire creates distance instantly. He bows slightly, while Jace gives him some shifty side looks but doesn’t move. Alec catches the ring the vampire throws to him and hears the same thing that all the others have said.

“Give the High Warlock my regards.”

Alec finally brings it up that night, when it’s just him and Magnus looking out over Brooklyn’s skyline as the stars twinkle above them.

“There was another one today.”

He gets a noncommittal hum in return and keeps talking.

“Vampire, this time. Male, appearance wise about… 20? Had a scar above his right eye and an off side limp. Fights really well so I’m guessing he’s been around for a while. Not part of Raphael’s clan though. Looked like he’s native Indian?”

“Native Indian?” Magnus’ attention is fully on him now, glass of whiskey forgotten on the small table between them. “That sounds like Kele, but I don’t know why he’d be this far north.”

Alec blinks and sets his own glass down. “Sorry? Who’s Kele?”

Magnus’ smile is somewhat wistful, like he’s remembering something. “When I first met Kele he was only a child. He’s from the Hopi Tribe in Arizona. He’s over 200 years old by now,” Alec’s leaning forward by now and is listening with rapt attention, “But he’s only ever been this far north once; when his sire lured him up to try and sacrifice him to Camille.”

Magnus laughs heartily at the utterly disgusted face Alec makes at the mention of her. He leans forward and kisses Alec gently, drawing back to see the frown practically melt off Alec’s face and the archer’s lips draw up into a smug grin. “Well at least I’m the one getting those and not Camille.”

Magnus laughs again and kisses him once more. “Darling, Camille hasn’t had a willing kiss from me in more than a century.”

They both wince at the memory of Camille’s spiteful trick when Jace first went missing. Alec still remembers his distinct urge to stake her then and there for laying even a finger on Magnus.

“But,” Magnus’ voice brings Alec back to the present, “I did find out where these sudden helping hands are coming from.”

“Really?”

Magnus smiles. “Let’s just say some birdies can’t keep secrets very well.”

Now Alec’s smiling, as he imagines several small children crowding around Magnus’ legs, excitedly babbling away and spilling everything they’d overheard their parents talk about. “And what did these little birds tell you?”

“They tell me that you’ve apparently got the entire New York downworld in a spin.”

“Me?”

“Yes you, Alexander. Everyone wants to see what or rather who, could make the High Warlock of Brooklyn so weak at the knees. They’re all curious, darling.”

Alec sinks back into his chair. “Oh…” then he sits up again. “I make you weak at the knees, do I?” He’s smirking, which makes Magnus smile easily.

“Of course you do, darling. And I wouldn’t give you up for the w–.”

Alec’s up out of his seat and kissing Magnus even before the last word is out of mouth, hands framing his jawline and feeling the slight stubble before Magnus’ goatee. They’re both breathless when they part and their eyes are shining in the dim light.

“I wouldn’t give you up for the world, either.”

There’s something entirely ethereal — Magnus has decided — about watching Alexander Lightwood waking up in the morning.

As rare an occurrence as it was, — because Magnus was nothing if not the king of late sleepers and Alec liked to rise with the sun — there was no feeling in the world that could beat the warm fuzziness in Magnus’ chest, when he rolls over and sees his beautiful shadowhunter still fast asleep.

There’s no real grace to the way Alec sleeps, but there is a certain peacefulness that rarely visits him when awake. The seemingly permanent creases in his brow are gone and his breathing is deep and slow, so relaxed it’s like nothing in the world could touch him.

These mornings are so few and far between, that Magnus does nothing to wake Alec when he does catch him. Instead, he lays there, head pillowed on luscious pillows and watches the shadowhunter dream.

He watches the way the sliver of sunlight that peeks through his curtains, illuminates Alec like the angels he is descendent from. He watches the way Alec’s hair fans out across the gold pillows, pale skin and dark runes against the red silk of Magnus’ sheets and the thick long lashes that caress Alec’s cheeks.

Too soon — always too soon — Alec wakes on his own, eyelids fluttering as consciousness comes to him slowly and he yawns broadly, teeth on display before stretching languidly. Magnus’ mouth goes dry as he watches the long lines of muscle and tendons extend and contract as Alec works knots out from his body.

Hazel eyes find his own unglamoured ones and Magnus can feel his lips stretch into a lazy smile. “Good morning, my darling.”

Alec lets himself move closer to Magnus, until their noses are almost touching. “Morning, love.”

They both have (not so horrendous) morning breath and their voices are still heavy and thick with sleep, but the gentle kiss they share is always worth waking up for.

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