The Saga of the Stripper and the Gay

by thenovaksisters

Summary:

Clary and Jace are getting married. And aside from this bringing marriage into the topic of conversation between him and his boyfriend, Alec wouldn’t mind. After all, with his bothers budding romance growing closer and closer day by day, Alec had been expecting it.

What he hadn’t expected was the prospect of being dragged along to a female strip club for Jace’ bachelor party the day before the big affair. Magnus, of course, finds it hilarious.
Awkward, stuttering Alec ensues. And lots of Malec fluff because.

Notes:

First malec fanfic, be nice please :)

Chapter 1: An Invitation

Alec had decided a while back that it’s always been afternoons like this one that he favours the most. Warm, light and familiar. Filled with a lack of responsibility pressing on his shoulders, a rare and relieving sensation. Filled with a feeling of calm, unlike that of a day spent in the institute.

The quiet air of Magnus’ apartment, though, probably also has a great deal to do with it too. And Magnus himself; the very source of the warmth and familiarity.

Afternoons where he finds himself finally out of the institutes clutches. Afternoons where Izzy’s the one to catch him sneaking out, where she promises not to be ‘typically-Izzy-and-overly-confident’ and bring back up on any missions that should occur as long as he shuts off his phone.

“I’ll be fine, Magnus won’t appreciate the phone disturbance.”

Afternoons which entail being pinned between Magnus and his sofa cushions; a mild aroma of alcohol clinging in the air and conversations of anything and everything. And when topics of conversation are lacking, lazy make outs with breath intertwined and trespassing fingers with undecided destinations.

These are the afternoons Alec loves best.

Although it can prove doubtful at times, the shadowhunter does love his job. When you grow up being told your purpose is to protect the world and worry little for yourself, you become accustom to it. And no matter how many times the same job turns up the same outcome, the adrenaline of a hunt is just as addictive.

Plus, it’s a life that rarely proves boring. A constant war; a constant battle; a constant fight whether it be between shadowhunter and demon, downworlder, or an opposing shadowhunter. The latter always proving trickier, deadlier and sadly, more common these days.

But, as Magnus often reminds him, war’s always bound to be rising up somewhere, and ‘it’s important not to forget what you’re fighting for’ – the warlock’s favourite conversation beginner.

The perils of a warrior’s lifestyle aside, Alec can’t see himself ever wanting to stop fighting for afternoons like this one: Magnus pressed close, his legs across Alec’s lap as they lean into each other, wine glasses in lose grip, idle discussion between the two that’s been lingering quiet for a while now.

That is, until Magnus breaks it abruptly: “Alas, my magic draws a line at mind reading so you’ll have to tell me what’s on your mind.” The warlock sits, eyes draw down to his fingers that play frivolously with the collar of Alec’s jacket. With the words, Alec lifts his gaze up to glance over his peaceful expression.

“You won’t like it.”

Magnus seems to grin slightly at the comment: “Tell me anyway.”

“The institute. Izzy,” Alec confesses watching carefully for his boyfriend’s reaction.

“You are aware, Alexander, that your sister is one of the best shadowhunters I’ve known in centuries. I don’t doubt her capability to bring down any beast, even without you by her side.”

Now it’s Alec’s turn to smile, nodding slightly as his eyes follow their dawdling fingers in lazy curiosity. “Worrying about Izzy is a defining characteristic of mine.”

“Your words?”

“Hers; complaining that I worry too much.” Alec watches the warlock grin, his eyes flickering in the golden sunlight cast in beams across the loft from the vast window panes running the length of the wall behind them.

Magnus there, eyes bare, expression soft, shadows dipping around sharply cut features and shading his tanned skin bronze in the light, is incidentally Alec’s favourite Magnus too. No glitter, no makeup. Just him. And Alec believes it’s at times like these he could get used to admiring Magnus is all the colours of a slowly descending sun. He could live a content life doing little else.

Conversation lulls between them once more, Alec’s unfazed though, satisfied with just watching his boyfriend trace the runes on his forearms, till the noise of the Doorbell cracks through the silence.

“Ignore it, please,” Alec moans, already feeling the loss as Magnus swings his legs from Alec’s lap to the floor, going to stand.
“Alexander, I’m not going far.” The warlock passes him an amused look, before standing fully.

Rejected, the shadowhunter instead turns his gaze to the cat curled up on the side table next to the sofa. Pushing a hand through the Chairman’s thick, velvety fur, Alec listens as the cat purrs deeply. It’s found itself the perfect perch to gain as much attention from any individual on the sofa and any sunlight simultaneously. Something the Chairman is particularly good at, Alec’s observed.

He hadn’t thought of himself as an animal lover before he’d met Magnus. Not that he considers himself one now, instead, it seems to be the curse on anyone who finds themselves around Chairman Meow: an impossibly affectionate and manipulative cat.

“Addressed to you.”

Alec glances up just as Magnus comes to sit beside him once more, though be it at greater distance than before to Alec’s dismay, tossing an envelope onto his lap. Golden but plain, his name neatly inscribed on the front, and dwarf-like in Alec's hands. Pretty, he suppose, though pretty’s not really Alec’s forte.

“Why send it here?”

The comment seems to amuse the warlock studying his own envelope of identical appearance.

“Alexander, darling, and exactly how much time do you spend at the institute?”

Smug smile enough to make Alec hate admitting it: Magnus is right. If at all possible, he spends as much of his day at the loft as he can, be it on Magnus’ sofa or at a desk writing up whatever report Aldertree needs done. Working or not, he favours it to the institute, and everyone down to Aldertree himself knows it.

Alec lets his eyes met Magnus’ as he surrenders a resistant nod of agreement. It’s not his fault that the only reason Alec spends all his time here is because the loft has Magnus in it and they’ve only been dating for just short of a year, but Alec rarely enjoys others company if they aren’t Magnus.

Turning it over and letting his thumb run underneath the seal, the envelope opens to reveal a white card. On it, an invitation. One Alec has been expecting for a while now.

“A wedding invitation!” Magnus’ eyes seem to light up. “Splendid. I know exactly what we’ll wear.”

Though the smile lifting the edges of his lips betrays him, Alec sighs heavily at his boyfriend’s words, a sudden but common feeling of fondness flooding his chest.

The wedding news itself is somewhat exasperating feeling. A wedding means planning and his brother’s wedding means he’ll be involved in it; but he hadn’t doubted that Magnus would be the one to pick out his suit from the moment Jace told him about the proposal and maybe having Magnus around will make the whole experience largely more enjoyable. After all, Magnus has had that effect on practically every other aspect of his life.

Jace proposed to Clary exactly the way Alec had suspected him to. The mundane way: a fancy restaurant, an expensive menu, a flustering waiter and a meal gone wrong. So technically, it’s only correct to say he attempted the mundane way. The story finishing with Clary suggesting they leave before Jace held a blade to the next waiter that disturbed them but instead of turning back to the institute, he’d taken her on a walk through Brooklyn till he’d found the right words to tell her that he’d keep trying to do things the mundane way, should she want to spend the rest of her life getting him out of trouble in the aftermath.

And to say that Izzy and Magnus had adored the story as Clary had recounted it to them would be an understatement. Though, at the time, Alec had only been left confused.

It’s true that Jace and Clary have known each other for nearing two years now but it all seemed rushed to Alec the day Jace told him about the engagement. What, with the whole sibling escapade of last year, his brother and the red-head’s relationship only coming back together ‘officially’ as of nine months ago.

Then Alec had unintentionally caught one of Jace’s glances to Clary from across a table top later that week that had held so much love and respect within it, that Alec couldn’t fault the idea any more.

“It's not at the institute,” Magnus comments next, bringing Alec out of his thoughts.

He glances back to see a degree of confusion painted across the warlock’s face.

“Jace doesn't care, and Clary’s always been more Mundane than Shadowhunter.”

Magnus nods at this before his eyes flick up to catch the shadowhunters: “Though you deny it, it’s something you’ve come to respect about her,” he says, eyes gleaming.

“Well,” Alec begins, shifting closer to where Magnus sits so their knees brush as he drops the invitation onto the side table, “someone once taught me it’s better to be who you are than to pretend to be someone you’re not.” He lets the words ring with devastating simplicity, his features as honest as only Alec Lightwoods could be.

It’s Magnus’ turn to drop his invitation to the coffee table this time.

“Well, whoever they are, they sound like they know what they’re talking about.”

Alec nods lightly, letting his hands fall to the lapels of Magnus’ deep crimson blazer, an unplanned but unrushed motion that Magnus responds to by only moving closer.

“Thank them for me,” Magnus murmurs again, just loud enough for Alec to hear and grin despite of their lame banter.

“Is this thanks enough?” Alec asks, leaning in to finally close the space between them. And he means it to just be a peak but Magnus' warmth gets the better of him. And lips locked, foreheads pressed together, Magnus’ hand slips under Alec’s collar to let his thumb lightly skate the dark inky mark of the deflect rune painted under the sharp line of Alec’s jaw.

It’s then the warlock seems to pull away just enough to catch his breath though it’s the same air they breathe: “No. Kissing you, Alexander, is my prize alone.” He hums contently.

Alec would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so concerned with kissing Magnus again, though this time it’s significantly harder with the idiotic grins painted across both their faces. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get used to it, but now having Magnus against him like this is nothing but pure and blissful familiarity.

This doesn’t dull the heat of electricity though his nerves that's been there since their first kiss, however. As if kissing Magnus charges him with electrostatic energy, touches like third degree burns leaving constellations of scorch marks between his shoulder blades in fingerprint patterns. A lightning storm underneath his skin that lingers there long after they separate; replenishing an energy in his muscles to urge him to pull the warlock back into his arms.

In fact, he’s changed his mind. Afternoons that end with Magnus in his arms, heart beat and heaving chest matching his, checks blushed dark and pupils blown wide with wonder, are Alec’s favourite afternoons.

***

Alec's got familiar with Magnus' taste, a muscle memory that has the dips and curves of the warlock's shoulders and back imprinted in the shadowhunters head, a warmth of intimacy so easily passed between them now. But Alec will marvel everyday, how he ever set on the right path that should bring him to lying beside the warlock, tonight like any other, breathing and listening to him breath.

***

“If you’re thinking about your sister,” Magnus begins, pulling himself up onto his elbow to look down at Alec who lies on his back observing the ceiling in lazy contentment, “while you’re in bed with me…”

“No,” Alec blurts out, eyes travelling to meet Magnus’ instantly. It must be nearing midnight now as silver illuminates the room from a cloudless sky outside and fills the warlock’s eyes with flickering moonlight. Though they already gleam yellow because he’s long since got used to leaving his glamour down when at home alone with Alec. This much to the shadowhunters delight.

He’s looking at Alec like he expects him to go on. As is saying: ‘If not Izzy, what then?’ Alec can only hesitate, the hand he runs along Magnus’ back pausing in motion. “Um, Jace and…”

“Jace!” Magnus declares. “Even better!” Sarcasm drips from each syllable, though Alec can hear the degree of mocking in the statement, and as he collapses back onto the mattress, he does it so dramatically Alec's incapable holding back a wide grin.

“Not Jace as in Jace..." his head fumbles for an explanation, though the only one Alec would rather leave to himself comes to mind and he says it anyway: "as in his marriage… to Clary.” Alec completes, cursing the admission as soon as it leaves his lips. Magnus’ freezes.

The last thing Alec wanted to bring up in their current situation, and lack of clothing, was marriage. Well, actually, the last thing he wanted to bring up with in their current situation, and lack of clothing, was Jace, though seeing as that's done already, why not dig the hole deeper.

“His… marriage?” Magnus hesitates.

Alec will blame it on habit. Around Magnus, he speaks his mind; uncareful to sensor his thoughts, even more than usual. A somewhat dangerous habit to own and a calamity in a shadowhunter, supposedly known for being stuck-up-liars and uncaring of the downworld really. Alec just isn't good at the whole shadowhunter thing in general because apparently being attracted to one of the opposite gender is also preferred. Alec, by nature, finds lying almost impossible; though odd a trait for the boy who lived in denial all his growing life. And alas, though he tried, Alec falls short of the latter requirement as well.

Girls aren't, and never could be or will be, Alec Gideon Lightwoods department.

Deciding to shake he own surprise from his eyes, he turns to better look at Magnus directly, though it almost intrigues him that his instinct when doing so is to pull Magnus closer simultaneously; his hands resistant to leave the warlocks waist.

“Marriage…” He repeats.

“And why would marriage be on the mind of Alexander Lightwood?” Asks Magnus, now seemingly more comfortable cocooned in Alec’s arms.

“I’ve been engaged before.”

“You have.”

“But that was different.”

“It was.”

Alec hasn’t brought himself to look at Magnus for more than a fleeting glance, yet. Though as he does, the vulnerability in Magnus’ returning gaze snaps every last string of his remaining confidence, his chest caving and breath escaping.

Very few things are capable of leaving the shadowhunter breathless. It’s a weakness a hunter must overcome in youth. Magnus is one of those few things.

“Will you be my date to the wedding, Alexander?” Magnus asks, as if reading Alec’s mind and pulling the subject matter in another direction.

Shadowhunter's in Idris liked to make it seem always so complicated, and Alec's parents aren't exactly the best example, but Alec had once believed the feeling would always come conflicted when not expressed to Izzy or Max. Even loving Jace had been complicated at times. But Magnus... Magnus is the exception. Love is simple with Magnus.

And his experience is definitely much less than most, his knowledge of it is not much, and he has no way to be certain. Though days, nights and conversations like this one are all Alec needs to decide that the word, in all its overwhelming implications, is the only thing fit to describe his heart ache for the warlock who entered his life and changed everything.

Alec can’t find it within him to resist leaning forward to press their lips together, though briefly. “Yes.” He mumbles, burying his face in the warlock’s neck, feeling him laugh and only hugging him closer.

He knows what he wants to say. It hangs heavily in the air between them, fills the room like smog does the streets of downtown Brooklyn on moonless nights. And it's not like anything stops him from uttering the words other than the suffocating nature of their connotations. All linked to the self-denial he carried all the years he grew up in the institute.

He wants to say them. Maybe he can go half way. “Marry me one day.”

He feels Magnus tense against him, the words heavier on his tongue than he’d expected. However, though he waits for it, regret seems absent in their aftermath. Instead, it’s almost relief.

“When will you run out of surprises?” Magnus murmurs, words slow and sincere.

Alec only grins, burying his face deeper against the warlock’s neck, breathing in his warmth and familiarity. Where it wasn’t present before, Alec can now feel himself falling slowly. Head heavy and mind fuzzy because all that concerns him right now is being as close to Magnus as possible. Because just as sleep goes to steal him away, Alec feels the warlock murmur soft words against his ear.

“One day, my darling Alexander.”

Chapter 2: A Party

Notes:

This is a short chapter, sorry, but the next one is a lot longer and should go up within the next couple of days so I hope that makes up for it :)

“Or not.”

“Alec, you’re all he has.”

The shadowhunter makes a noise somewhere between a snort and sigh, rolling his eyes despite the disagreeable feeling already lurking in his veins that he's already lost this argument so there's really no point in trying to fight her. His strength to refuse likes to drain away like sand through his fingers when in arguments with Izzy. Something he knows she's fully aware of.

“No. He’s all I have, Iz. Jace has plenty of friends.”

“Not the kinda friends you spend time with on occasions like this. He’s getting married...”

"And I'm not going to any party." Alec returns matter-of-factly, if she can state random truths, he can too.

The girls narrows her eyes at him, "does Magnus know about..."

Alec shakes his head to silence his sister before she can finish her threat, two can play at emotional blackmail. And it just so happens that Alec's rather good at it too. Before letting her roll her eyes at him and complete her sentence, he stops her, raising his bloody seraph blade vaguely in her direction: "does mum know you used to sneak out of the institute when you were fifteen?"

Izzy's narrow-eyed glare grows darker but Alec returns it with only an innocently smug look.

"Or that you brought that were-wolf boyfriend she despised home one night after your eighteenth,"

Izzy opens her mouth to object but Alec continues:

"How about the time..."

"You're all talk big brother, you've kept those secrets for years..."

"I'm not going to any party." Alec states, dropping the blade to his side again unmindfully yet skilfully all the same because, for a shadowhunter, after a while weapons become almost like extra limbs, and a blade once powerful and deadly in his young hands is now but a tool he can carry slack by his side rather carelessly.

His shoulders are weighed down like lead from a night-long hunt, cold adrenaline still festering itchy in his muscles, and the drumming radiating inside his head is enough to put Alec off almost any conversation right now; he's surprised Izzy doesn't feel the same way. Because if she does, she shows no sign of it. Either way, can't all this be reason enough to discuss this later?

Alec turns from his sister to begin walking down the corridor again and, tiredness partially to blame, he's only partly aware of her clicking high heals hastening to keep in stride with him.

Last night had eventually reigned successful, but only come dawn. A hunt of kind where it had been vital he remain attentive for even the slightest motion; watching a still world till he was positively drunk on darkness, sight overrated, mind yearning for sleep like blood thirst irks the gums of ravenous vampires. A night spent looking past the arrow held up permanently in the centre of his vision till the muscles by his neck tingled, sensation slowly lacking.

Mild discomfort has always been something Alec can shake off easily though. Better than his siblings most definitely. All rooting from the confidence-lacking child of ill habit that instigated a thought in him that he had little right to complain at all; always surviving silently, dealing internally.

That is, till Magnus began making it mandatory on their date nights he come clean about whatever haunted his conscience that particular day. Alec’s come to realise since then that sharing some of it can make for easier breath and lighter shoulders.

Not that he’ll often drop that guard for Izzy, when the mask’s initial purpose protected her innocence in their youth. Nor Jace willingly, but it’s always been harder for Alec, hiding emotions from the person he also incidentally shares them with.

“Alec?”

His gaze fleets to the girl walking alongside him. He’s proud of who Izzy’s become. That’s what makes it all worth it. Not that he’ll ever appreciate her nagging.

"Alec, Jace is your parabati!" She exclaims; on the way to being mildly frustrated by her brothers stubbornness from the some of things.

“I’ll think about it.” He surrenders finally, turning a corner into hopefully a busier section of the institute where Izzy may be forced to silence her pestering for the time being.

“How about you do more than think about it and promise to be there?” She persists anyway, continuing to follow him eagerly.

One particular demon he’d had an interesting face off with not even an hour ago, has left an unpleasant throbbing sensation in his left side that Alec intends to ignore, till Izzy’s grabbing at that arm causing him to fight off a wince.

He’d activated his Iratze. All that’s left is empty, numb tingling. Just enough to pinch nerves with the tight grip of her determined hand.

“He was there for you.”

“I didn’t actually get married.” Alec reminds her uncooperatively, he may feel his defence slowly crumbling, but he’s not giving up just yet.

“Not the point.” Her eyes lock in his, steel and unfaltering, ebony in the dull light of the institute hallway but un-shining in their hardness. Alec’s fought hard for his family over the years, and they’ve rarely ever thanked him. Every now and again, he’s reminded of the fact that Izzy probably keeps it together at the seams.

He loves Jace but they fight with the viciousness of werewolves. Izzy’s been stitching them up without fail, without complaint, ever since two opposites choose to bond closer than blood.

Alec lets his eyes fall to the ground. He’s lost. “Fine.” But he doesn’t have to act happy about it.

“Great. And Simon’s coming too.”

Alec’s eyebrows fold low over his unmoving gaze as confusion sets over his features.

“The vampire?”

“Well, Simon is Clary’s best friend, that isn’t going to change,” Alec returns the blade he holds back to the rack, now they’ve finally reached the main weapons room, “and Jace is about to marry her so he’s making an effort to ease the tension between them. Plus, Magnus likes Simon so you’re going to have to learn to like him at some point.” His sister points out smugly, probably more than a little pleased and satisfied that her harassing finally pulled through in the end.

“Aldertree coming too?” Alec asks, turning back to Izzy, sarcasm dripping from every syllable as his arms come to cross over his chest. This is all coming together perfectly to quiet possibly be the worst night of his life.

His sister however, elects to ignore his melodrama: “It’s a bar Alec. You’re there to make sure Jace doesn’t go home with anyone drunk, cos bachelor party or not he’s engaged, and to make sure he doesn’t kill anyone... mainly the latter... that anybody being Simon." Alec sighs heavily at his now positively beaming sister. "Other than that, Magnus has taught you a thing or two about strong cocktails, right?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he nods in his own patented, signature indifferent nod, and begins to walk towards the door, will power alone fuelling his aching muscles.

“Where are you going?” Izzy asks as he passes her clumsily, narrowly missing a collision with her shoulder. He’s sleep deprived, feeling picked on and not entirely well balanced on his feet anymore, the sooner he lies down, the better.

“Magnus’.”

His sister snorts in reply.

“Thought you said he had clients all day.”

“To sleep.” He’s saying next, though he’s already out in the corridor again, one destination in mind.

Thinking back to Magnus’ comment a few days ago, there’s no denying it really. Alec is barely ever at the institute anymore. But he has reason. Magnus’ bed is no doubt five-hundred times better than his at the institute...

...plus, it usually comes with the warlock included.

***

“You know, I can help with that,” Magnus is saying before he’s even fully in the room. Alec looks up from where he sits, thoroughly dazed, somewhat startled but less sleep deprived than five hours ago, hand leaving his side as the pained expression he held before slips from his face.

“I’m fine.” He replies automatically, despite how he knows this irritates the warlock.

Alec hadn’t needed longer than three hours to catch up on the energy a full night of hunting in the biting cold streets of the city had taken from him, but now awake, his side hurt more than it had when he’d shut his eyes.

“Of course,” Magnus only grins slightly, leaning over the side of the bed to place a chaste kiss to the shadowhunters lips, then lingering there under Alec curious and lazy response.

Sleep still infesting his muscles, Alec lifts a hand to pull the warlock down to better the distance between them, narrowing it so his fingers have more skin to roam as their kisses become deeper and unhurried. Letting his body rest against the shadowhunter, Magnus’ hand however finds itself on Alec’s side, the warmth of magic filling his muscles with static.

It’s always been beautiful, something that’s amazed and awed Alec since he first met Magnus; but being with him means he’s begun to learn and find familiar the feeling magic brings and leaves.

In Magnus’ orbit, you get used to a constant energy. Emotions strengthening it; sometimes weakening it. The orange, burning colour of magic Magnus’ uses with force, and the electric, purity of the icy blue tone the magic is when the warlock is calm or content.

When Magnus’ has used his magic on Alec though, it’s always been warm. Tales he heard of the painful burning feeling of warlock magic in Idris, growing up, have never resonated in his experiences with Magnus’ magic. A buzzing feeling in train tracks through is veins, warmth left in its place once the tingling is vacant once more.

As is the feeling today, as the pain fades away.

“I don’t have another client till this afternoon, care to join me for lunch?” The warlock is asking as he pulls back from the kiss just enough to take in Alec’s tired but fond expression.

“Can’t we eat in?”

***

“You could come?” Alec says, placing the take-out box back onto the side table, and he knows it’s much more than just a suggestion. It’s a silent plea he hopes Magnus will answer because otherwise he’ll have to change tactic and, on a matter of principle, the shadowhunter prefers not to sink to his sister’s level.

“Alas, I have not been invited,” Magnus replies, grinning slightly from where he sits against the other armrest of the sofa, “otherwise I’d happily aid you with the tedious task of babysitting that blond brother of yours.”

The warlock sits with chop sticks in hand, though Alec ate his dinner with a fork. Magnus has the advantage of centuries of practise but he still finds it hilarious that a soldier capable of wielding multiple weapons simultaneously, can’t find his way around a simple pair of chop sticks.

“I’m inviting you.” Alec moans quietly, turning to face the warlock fully and let his sad eyes do most of the emotional blackmail.
Magnus raises his eyebrows, the rest of his features trying to hide his obvious amusement. So much so at the shadowhunters clear distress, he hides a grin behind his food.

Chinese take-out is yet another thing Alec doubts he’d ever have experienced if it weren’t for Magnus. And Chinese take-out with him is an especially unique experience considering Magnus rarely stands for anything unauthentic and because a trip across the world for a warlock equates to the average, petty trip across the street for any mundane.

“You said Simons going to be there.” Magnus comments, as if it’s something Alec should be happy about. The shadowhunter simply narrows his eyes, following his boyfriend with a hard gaze as Magnus places his take-out box on the table beside Alec’s.

“When is it?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Clients all day. Couldn’t come if I wanted to.” Alec leans forward to place his head against the back of the sofa and look as sad and rejected as possible. “Alexander…”

“Jace is my brother and he’d do it for me, Izzy’s already said.” Alec completes as though he knows what the warlock was going to say, “but it’s more complicated.”

“I know. You shadowhunters in general are more complicated.” Magnus sighs.

Obviously feeling pity for Alec’s frustration, he moves forward enough for their fingers to intertwine. Alec watching, not rejecting the contact, distress giving way to a neutral expression as he returns to enjoying the look of his warlock; rings glinting in the dusk light of the loft.

They sit in silence, close but still for a couple more moments before Magnus once again breaks the silence: “I’ll wait up for you. Once you’ve deposited Jace back to the institute, you’ll come here, we can have drinks of our own.”

Alec’s face lights up slightly. Not that you’d be able to tell if you didn’t know him well enough to notice the smile in his eyes that rarely reaches his lips.

“I’ll be late.” Alec hums. They haven’t moved other than the natural gravitation of their bodies that have leaned inwards so they lie against the sofa sideways, faces inches apart and hands still tightly intertwined.

“I’ll wait.”

Notes:

Most chapters are written out already, and will go up as soon as I've had a chance to edit it them. So hopefully within the next week. Thanks for anyone reading :) x

Chapter 3: A Shot of Vodka

“Simon is…”

“- going to meet us there.” Jace completes rigidly.

The sharp reply lifts the corners of Alec lips in a small grin however. Despite what Izzy says, Jace is still Jace, and his tolerance of Simon is no less mere tolerance, and Alec no longer worries about Clary Fairchild having any major effect on that.

Apart from the context of it, walking beside his brother on a cold and cloudless night isn’t unusual. Through the generally empty walkways of downtown Brooklyn, shadows dragging on behind them under the dim shine of flashing streetlamps.

Jace and him have always found it easy to walk in sync; their footsteps falling into similar rhythm, shoulders brushing and even unconscious and careless movements matched. A benefit in their line of work when any demon would hear one hunter approaching only to be met by the weapons of two. It’s part of the reason being Jace’s parabati makes them an unstoppable due in battle. It’s always made sense to walk next to him, understanding enough of him to guess his next move when Alec so often has to match each move with it’s counter-part in a fight.

Not that any of that bares use tonight.

When regular civilians of innocence and oblivion can find his gaze all to easily for once because tonight he walks among them; shoulders bare of weight, purpose empty, because Izzy refused to let him take his bow along.

Tonight, he’s supposed to pretend.

“Alec,” Jace suddenly speaks, breaking the comfortable silence that had lingered between the sounding of their footsteps for a while now, “I wanted to ask,” he begins but the words seem to crumble before the rest of the sentence has a chance to make it out of his brother’s mouth.

So, narrowing his eyes in signature confusion, Alec turns his glance from the concrete to Jace instead. Weirdly, his brother appears to hesitate before meeting it with his own.

“Simon is standing in as Clary’s substitute maid of honour or best man or whatever…” Jace scoffs off the peculiarity of such a statement with his more usual mocking laugh, before returning to the strange silence he’s adopted for tonight only, “she wanted… I to wanted ask-” Jace corrects himself, coming to a silent but obviously thought-over conclusion behind his eyes and wincing slightly before completing all in one go: “Will you be my best man at my wedding tomorrow?”

The words come out in a heap and Jace is looking back down the dark walkway ahead of them again, Alec left to study his brother’s facade of neutral features betrayed only by his emotion-filled eyes.

Jace doesn’t stutter. Out of the two of them, Jace rarely even finds it within him to stop speaking when his arrogance takes the lead. Jace is supposed to be the confident one. Yet tonight… he’s babbling like only Alec can in situations that require him to act more mundane that shadowhunter.

And suddenly it’s too much of a reality that Alec’s brother is in fact getting married tomorrow.

“You don’t need to make a speech or anything, it’s…” Jace begins to clarify when Alec realises he hasn’t responded yet.

“Jace,” Alec says, bringing a stop to his brothers stammering, “I’ll be your best man… You know I will.” Alec adds, a real, though small, smile finding his lips. Jace had to know he’d say yes. The time where Alec would have been more hesitant over this marriage is, to use a phrase his warlock uses all too often: ‘in the past’.

“Okay, cool.” Jace seems to brush off the seriousness of the subject suddenly, returning to the Jace Alec’s far more used to and, all things considered, finds easier to interact with.

Rolling his eyes, the shadowhunter turns his gaze to the concrete once more.

***

Alec’s always been good at brooding melodramatically; displaying through ever action, expression or sigh of exasperation, his exact feelings behind situations Izzy puts him in too often. Though it’s been Magnus, of late, who’s ended up dragging Alec along to parties or crowded restaurants; the shadowhunter eternally finding himself tangled up in the awkward social interactions that he seems to attract wherever he goes.

Though tonight it’s Izzy’s doing entirely. A club. But not just a club: a strip club. A female strip club. They’re barely through the door before Alec decides, he’s going to kill his sister.

The crushing sensory overload of music is what hits him first. The kind that numbs you, instantly plunges reality underwater so voices become distant and everything else is drowned out completely. Cold water. The kind that Alec can finding himself powerless in.

Never mind the fact that there couldn’t be more mundane and downworlders under the same roof that Alec’s probably ever seen together before.

Guys sat in chairs, gawking hungrily at girls in lingerie. A stage of dancers in dresses cutting so low down their chests and high up their thighs, it seems to Alec pointless. Shimmering slightly in the dim shine of the main club lights and the bright beams of pink light cast down on the stage itself that almost drown out the features of the girls upon it completely.

The atmosphere is electric, but not the kind of electricity that pulses through his veins on a hunt or the static kind that heats his muscles and fuels a wanting when he’s alone with Magnus. This is the burning kind. The ugly kind that leaves scorch marks in a much more devastating array.

Because surely no girl really wants her main purpose to be the eye-candy for perves.

Then again, Alec has to remind himself that if they really bothered that much, they could leave. That being here with Jace surely cast him as one of the customers paying to keep the club employing them; guilty whether he’s here to enjoy himself or not. 

A girl walks past, standing close to his height in heals more substantial than anything else she’s wearing, and Alec pulls his eyes to the floor. Reflexes will have to be enough to pull him back from a collision with any one of the many, many people crammed hot in one room, because he has no desire to keep his eyes up any longer.

Anxious suddenly at their decreasing distance from the main stage as he follows both Simon and Jace further into the club, Jace trying to restrain himself from looking like a child on Christmas morning, Alec stops. He’s sure he must look terrified, and truthfully, it isn’t far from the truth.

“Jace!” Alec grabs at his parabati’s wrist in a somewhat urgent manner. Far from keeping his daunted look away from showing clearly between his lost features, Alec isn’t sure what he intends to tell Jace as he swings round instantly at the contact, but he knows he wants to get out of here. Preferably, fast.

“Alec,” Jace begins, though to his credit, he stops when he notices genuine distress in Alec’s weary gaze, “look, all you got to do is sit back and enjoy the view.”

Though he seems to be forgetting a major aspect that prevents Alec from completing that seemingly basic task. Not surprising seeing as Jace is already preoccupied enough.

“What’s to enjoy?”

“The dancers…” The blond shadowhunter is replying automatically, Simon now turning into the conversation too, till his words seem to run dry and Alec gets to witnesses the perfect flicker of hesitation run behind his brother’s bright eyes, followed closely in tail by some kind of realisation.

“It’s not really my kind of view.” Alec’s mumbling before Jace can speak again. If it’s guilt flashing over Jace’s features then, it’s gone quickly as his attention is snapped away from Alec once more.

"It's one night, Alec," he says, eyes following a girl walking their way, his attention vacating the conversation completely. Then he’s following the girl to a seat closer to the stage, conversation apparently entirely forgotten.  

Alec is momentarily reminded of a discussion they had just before getting here:

~~ “I don’t get the point. You’re going out to flirt with girls, the day before you get married to one.”

“That is the point Alec, this is the last day I’m an unmarried man! I’m allowed to look at the menu, I’m just not allowed to order.” ~~

It’s Simon’s voice that brings him back to the reality he’d rather forget: “Sorry, Alec. Guess Izzy didn’t really think this through.”

“She thought it through.” Alec returns, though under his breath. And he’ll believes nothing different, even if she denies it herself; there’s no way Izzy didn’t think this though perfectly.

Simon seems oblivious and turns to him as if he’s going to apologies again when Alec raises a tempered hand to silence him: “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘easing tension’ with Jace?”

Simon’s face morphs to an unreadable expression, glace returning to the stage and main source of people ahead of them. Alec guesses that he’s searching for Jace and as soon as he seems to locate the other shadowhunter, if he didn’t know better, Alec would say Simon almost appears just as intimidated as he must have looked as they entered.

Though it means little, Alec’s pulled up his hard, emotionless expression again since then.

“Easing tension, yes.” The young vampire stands in consideration another moment before adding: “For Clary.”

Alec finds himself able to grin then, because thinking of Magnus does that to Alec Lightwood, whatever the circumstances. He has something in common with this fanged ex-mundane after all: after tonight, he gets to go back to the loft, where his warlock is waiting for him.

For Magnus.

Simon’s turning to approach Jace a moment later and Alec’s suddenly aware that unless he follows, finally closing the couple of meters between him and some girls of very little clothing under magenta lighting, he’ll be alone in the centre of the club. 

Alone among a collection of horny guys between the ages of twenty and fifty, all watching girls in lingerie…

Remaining still for a few long minutes, the shadowhunter considers just turning and leaving. Izzy couldn’t blame him. Maybe he’ll wait outside for Jace and Simon to come stumbling out after midnight. Is supervising Jace really that important?

Anything to be out of the suffocating aroma of…

“Hello handsome.”

… perfume. The suffocating aroma of perfume. And liquor. And breath, down the back of his neck.

He swings around to survey the owner of the voice, eyes raking down her figure once before deciding against doing it again, even if it’s only polite to look back up to her face instead of leaving his stare at her shoes.

“I…” but as the shadowhunter goes to speak, his mind blanks, leaving him gaping. “I was just… just,... just going… to get a, a – ur, a drink,” Alec finds his eyes skating over the curls of her dark ebony hair, passing quickly across her forehead, only to rest on her checks; close enough to her eyes, Alec reckons, that she may not even notice.

He must look a sight nonetheless. A jabbering wreck she’ll only perceive as flustered; not recognising his incoherency as fear. And her best guessed reason behind his fluster will be entirely incorrect. That his agitation roots from her lack of clothing… which, technically… isn’t incorrect… it’s just that her lack of clothing is flustering for quite the different reason in Alec’s case than he assumes is the instance for most other men around him.

All in all, for a hunter quite capable of singlehandedly taking down almost any demon-blooded creature, he’s shuffling from foot to foot incredibly pathetically in her presence. Something that, if he were here, would have Magnus in fits of laughter Alec’s sure.

What she does wear, though minimal, is of a faded pink hue and quite the striking contrast to her tanned-gold skin, painted in glitter around her amber eyes. She’s probably pretty. She seems the kind of girl Jace would flirt with. Lips scarlet red and lashes tacked together with mascara that’s left a light line of black dust on the top of her sharp boned checks.  

The glitter around her eyes is similar to something Magnus might wear. Though he’s biased, his warlock wears it better.

“I can do charming, I’ll have a shot of vodka.” She grins, eyes glinting.

“No, I… I’m,” the words almost come out breathless, “I’m not charming.” He splutters irrelevantly, and unhelpfully because they’re the only words that find his tongue.

“Are you sure?” She arches her eyebrows, in a way Alec’s sure is meant to be seductively, laying a light touch to Alec chest and causing the shadowhunter to tense up completely, fighting to keep his eyes in hers. This time, she seems to take the hint, moving her touch away slightly as he visually stiffens.

“Am I not your type?” She asks curiously, looking up through batting eyelashes and letting her head tilt slightly. Alec knows Magnus well enough to know this is a motion meant to distract him from any hesitation he might have. It’s not her fault that she is severely lacking the only accessories that might give her more of a chance with this particular shadowhunter – if he weren’t already well and truly taken – and it just so happens that every female stripper in this club lacks it.

“No.”

Another stupid, un-thought-out reply.

“I mean, it’s not… no, not as in, you would be…” Alec can now feel the heat spread across his face, leaked from the boundaries of his checks to now the tips of his ears.

He’s shaking his head because he can’t move his legs because apparently he can remain unparalysed while being chased by several black-blooded, evil, hell-spawned creatures, yet not in the context of being hit on by a glamorous girl in her undergarments.

“Boy – urr… boyfriend.” He stutters, turning away from her; only his shadowhunter reflexes saving him from an untimely collision with the couple stood right behind him as he’d all to quickly swirled around.

Remaining in that conversation any longer wouldn’t have done any good, anyway, least of all because it was mainly one sided – sort of his babbling – and he was beginning to fear she might have ended up just kissing him. Spare of the moment, probably, but out of desperation definitely to avoid his silence that had awkwardly fragmented her well-rehearsed pick-up lines.

Hands reaching the wood of the bar, Alec lets thoughts of his warlock consume his focus to slow his racing heat beat. If he ends up getting kissed by the end of tonight, it’s not hurting Magnus’ he’s afraid of. The opposite really, because Magnus will find the whole story so terribly entertaining, Alec would probably never hear the end of it. 

“Overwhelmed?”

It’s another light voice, belonging to an older woman this time, however, and Alec’s can’t say he isn’t relieved to observe that she stands on the opposite side of the bar he props his elbows upon.

The hazel eyed shadowhunter glances up then to meet a pair of green-grey eyes, bare of makeup, under an untidy fringe, looking back fondly. Her neck’s as laden with necklaces as Magnus’ can be at times, her clothes not nearly as well kept.

Clothes! She’s clothed and unthreatening. Alec exhales a long-winded breath, only mildly surprised to find he’d been holding one.

“Yeah,” the shadowhunter mumbles, bringing his arms across his chest in a somewhat protective manner, hunching his shoulders to hide better his face now he faces away from the main stage completely.

“On the house for the dragged along friend.” She chuckles, sliding across a glass of clear liquid while passing him a wink and knowing grin simultaneously. Before he can register or thank the gesture, though, she’s moved on, further down the bar following the call of orders Alec can just about here above the music.

Going to seal his hand around the glass, Alec feels a vibration through his back jean pocket and digs out his phone to aluminate the screen in the darker corner of the mood-lit club. It’s a text. A text from Magnus. Alec should feel stupid with how warm that makes him feel.

Magnus: ‘Having fun? …if it’s any consolation, I miss you.’

Though the first half of the text lightly mocks him, Alec can’t find it within himself to care. Turning all his attention to Magnus - probably curled up on the sofa with Chairman Meow in the loft - waiting for him.

Alexander: ‘It’s a strip club. With... female strippers.’

Alec watches the screen for a reply that materialises only seconds later.

Magnus: ‘So… you’re… not having fun?'

Reading the words flashes an image through Alec’s head of the smirk Magnus is most probably wearing right at this moment. A goofy one the warlock rarely let’s cover his handsome features; and as much as Alec knows it means he’s being teased, he does love seeing it painted across his boyfriend face under bright, gleaming eyes.

Alexander: ‘Mock me and I’ll cheat on you.’

Magnus: ‘With who? The bar tender.’

Alexander: ‘She’s nice. She gave me a free drink.’

Alec glances at the glass of colourless liquid he’s held between his left hand for the last few minutes. Though he might have usually, Alec doesn’t really consider it before taking a large gulp from the glass. Tonight is so far from ‘usually’, by now, anyway.

Magnus: ‘Why do I suddenly feel very secure in our relationship?’

Just as Alec goes to reply, another text comes through.

Magnus: ‘…I love you. :)’

Alec reads the final text a couple times over, debating his response and debating the somehow pleasant heat behind his chest and smoky, heavy flavour leftover in his mouth after downing half of his mysterious drink.

Alexander: ‘She’s not my type anyway.’

As he clicks send, the shadowhunter returns his phone to his back pocket. This way he’ll get to say his ‘I love you too’ in person, later tonight. Because as much as he enjoys their text banter, nothing compares to getting to utter the words to Magnus in person.

He turns his eyes back to the mass of people and centre of attention behind him. Searching the multitude of faces it doesn’t take long for his trained eye to spot the blonde and brunette sitting side by side. Jace hasn’t moved from where he sat originally, though he’s onto another glass of golden liquor, but Simon wasn’t by his side before.  

They seem to be in quite the in-depth conversation, Alec observes, and he feels a weird shot of pride shoot through him at that. Perhaps the background distraction of dancing girls in their underwear allows Jace and Simon to actually get along…

“Want a dance?” Asks a voice suddenly.

Notes:

This was a fun chapter to write. And more stuttering Alec next chapter as well. Hope you're enjoying reading because I'll have the next chapter up tomorrow hopefully. :)

Chapter 4: A Stripper Named Darcy

“Want a dance?”

“I – um…”

“A guy like you shouldn’t be sitting at a bar all alone.”

The girls voice is light and careless, but lacking in the confident brevity of the voices that have snuck up on Alec previously. Less sure of herself, sentences made up of more open ended questions rather than rhetorical ones. A silent hesitation only heard by his hunter's sharp ears.

“I – I’m… good.” Alec stutters, letting a passing gaze run the girl up and down.

She’s young – is Alec’s first analyses. Freckles in constellations across her checks, sky blue eyes and ashen blonde hair in curls around the soft edges of her face. Innocent – is his second.

“One dance?” She asks, dropping her chin to look up at him through dark eyelashes like one to many people have taught her the motion, gripping her chin between their fingers to pull her gaze up in what Alec considers a violent motion.

Though, sadly, he believes girls like her must be used to it.

“Dance, I don’t… I don’t dance.”

No matter his analysis of the girl, however, the shadowhunter’s words continue to fail him.

“You don’t do the dancing,” she grins; but Alec would call the expression almost nerves, “I do the dancing.”

“I, well, I’m not – I don’t come here often. My brother…” he tears his eyes away from the girl.

Breathe. ‘You’ve taken control of the entire institute for weeks at a time while mum and dad were away in Idris; you can talk to a girl.’ 

Not that Alec’s conscience is enough to convince himself usually, though his inner monologue tries.

“I got dragged along.” He concludes, fingers drumming against the bar nervously as he shifts his gaze back and further between them and the girl who’s now taken to leaning against it, and into his personal space; her undergarments a lovely shade of fuchsia that Magnus has worn a couple of times. All lace; which must feel awfully revealing.

Alec internally face-palms with the notion – She’s a stripper, revealing can’t be that much of an issue for her.

“Might as well enjoy yourself then.” She speaks slowly, a promise on every syllable that would render pretty much anyone around him a drooling mess, Alec should imagine. Anyone… other than Alec.

She’s taken to running her fingers over his shoulder, playing the with ripples it makes in his shirt, and letting her eyes follow the motion – Alec hates recognising it – seductively. But it’s his hunter’s eye that catches the slight tremble in her fingers.

“Enjoy, I, um, don’t – not that you aren’t pretty but, or rather – I don’t…”

Her hand has frozen, eyes narrowing just slightly, and Alec supposes it must be rather hard to follow what he’s saying with so many stops and starts and coughs breaking and scattering the pieces of his intent all over the bar floor. And it doesn’t help that he might just be beginning to feel the effects of the mysterious clear liquid he downed, not longer than five minutes ago.

“You have a girlfriend?” She asks.

“No.” He’s quick to answer – and finally it’s something he can reply with full confidence.

This quirks the girl into a grin once more, a little more plastic and pretend than before. Suddenly, Alec believes it might have just been easier to say yes. Perhaps Magnus doesn’t come under the subtitle of ‘girlfriend’ but ‘boyfriend’ might be a little harder to explain given their current location, and at least it would get across that Alec isn’t looking for a dance, or conversation or any interaction at all in fact.

“No?” She repeats, a lightness to her tone as she moves in closer and Alec finds himself leaning so his back is against the bar. He notes the remaining hesitation in her eyes, though she’s attempted to shake it loss, and where her hand has slipped to cover his lightly in a suggestive touch, he slips his fingers to her pulse in an instinctive impulse.

She’s just a mundane.

The pieces slip together quickly after that, as he rinses out the panic smogging up the front of his head to allow space for each observation to fit into the obvious puzzle. Speeding pulse, trembling fingers, apprehension threaded through each sentence she comes out with no matter the confidence she forces to show between her nervous features.

She’s just a mundane.

“No… girlfriend. Um… not really my area.” He breaths out finally, eyes ducking to where he pulls his hand from hers.

“Oh.”

She pulls back almost instantly. Though only by a fraction. And when his eyes return to her face, every drop of confidence has now fled.  It’s an expression he recognises – he thinks. That is until suddenly it comes to the shadowhunter that, instead of the expression, it’s the feeling allied along with it that is most familiar. A fear, he himself has been battling all night.

“But I’d love a dance.”

The words come out before he has a chance to think them through.

She surveys him for a second before glancing at the space between them.

“You’re into guys.” And it’s a statement instead of a question this time.

“And you’re… scared of them.”

He’s managed to calm his heart rate enough to leave the sentence mostly unhitched. Perhaps it’s because her innocence reminds him of something he once saw in Izzy. Something he used to seek to protect. Something that’s willing him to want to do the same for this stranger tonight.

“Them?”

“All these guys, who only watch you to look at…” his words fade and his eyes drop to her shoulders, fleet lower for a second, seemingly making the girl understand despite his lack of words. “Dance for me…” he murmurs through his teeth, trying to speak despite of the violent blush of his checks, “if it means you don’t have to dance for them.”

She looks surprised. Honestly, Alec’s pretty surprised to. By now, every word that manages to actually leave his mouth is a shock enough for the shadowhunter who's ready to just go back to the loft and fall asleep, even if that means abandoning Jace.

He won’t do it of course. Alec rarely does what he wants to do. But it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been thinking about it solidly for the last half an hour at least.

She seems to hesitate once more, but the way her eyebrows move to down across her bright eyes gives Alec the impression that she’s considering it. Then she’s moving closer once more, hips now swaying along to the music he’s suddenly aware of again. The club, people and overpowering stench of alcohol mixed with body sweat returning to him as though the confrontation with the mundane girl had temporarily blurred out all background props and sound effects. His surroundings returning to him.

Alec’s also suddenly conscious of the fact that’s he’s not exactly sure how this works, though the girl seems to have gained a decent proportion of her confidence back and her small grin is enough to let the worry leave his main focus.

Instead he turns to focus on their proximity. Of all the scenarios he’d considered this bachelor party turning up, never once had it crossed his mind that he, Alec Lightwood, would end up receiving a lap dance from a female stripper... Least of all that he’d end up smiling by the end of it. As much a grin of ineptness, a red flush painting his checks, as genuine amusement, caught off the contagious hilarity of a stripper by the name of Darcy Williams.

***

“I started out behind the bar.”

“And ended up dancing for guys in your underwear?” Alec says, bringing his glass to his lips and letting the burning taste satisfy the empty heat on his tongue because Alec isn’t that much of a fan when it comes to liquor, but Darcy, as it turns out, knows her stuff and returned a while ago with a drink of a creamy-whiskey colour that Alec’s quickly come to enjoy.

“Only when Kim asked me to fill in for a girl one night on stage, because I watch the routine every night serving drinks, and she reckoned I’d look better than an empty space.” Darcy takes a sip of her drink before continuing: “When I turned out to be a decent dancer…” she leaves the sentence unfinished, only gesturing to the rest of her with a sweep of her hand.

They sit on adjacent bar stoles, legs intertwined; pushed close by the mass of bodies collected by the bar. Though, it’s actually a largely less intimate position compared to some they’ve sported tonight.

The thought heating Alec’s checks again.  

“Kim?” The shadowhunter asks, pushing the images from his head.

“The owner of this place.” She replies, “I got promoted from bartender to lap-dancer and I’m beginning to consider calling it a demotion.”

They smile and return to an easy silence as her eyes turn to look over the chaos of the club.

Turning her neck allows Alec to get a good look at the tattoo running alone the skin beneath her ear, falling all the way down to the dip of her collarbone. Flowers dipped in paint, the pigment spilling along the curve of her neck, a tattoo of scarlet ink and green thorns than continue down her left arm.

“Like it?” She asks, eyes bright as they turn to lock with his once more and Alec realises he must have been staring.

A shadowhunter begins bearing runes at the age of twelve. They collect in easily accessible places to begin with, hands and arms, sometimes spanning the flat plains of their stomachs. Dark markings that grow in number and eventually cover most skin above the buckle of jeans.

Not all shadowhunters like them and he knows of a few in Idris that go to extents of hiding them. Because for a shadowhunter, marking your skin is more duty than choice. But Alec’s always been proud of his. Since his first angelic rune was drawn out over his pale skin.

The concept of a tattoo, however, causes a curiosity rare in the shadowhunter. Your choice, your meaning; a mark empty of duty.

Alec remembers suddenly he hasn’t answered yet and nods hastily. “Any meaning?”

“’Who dares to taint with vulgar paint, the royal flower bed?’” Darcy quirks, amused when this only confuses the shadowhunter. “A quote from Alice in Wonderland? The book? The book that’s inspired hundreds of children’s tales and has tens of movie adaptions?”

With each word, Alec’s eyebrows furrow deeper. Darcy grins, rolling her eyes slightly.

“Alice goes to wonderland and meets a pack of cards who paint the queen of hearts flowers red, because they planted white ones instead.”

If the previous statements had floored Alec, this explanation losses him completely and he simply nods, eyes falling to the bar where he grips at his glass and swirls the light gold liquid around in oblivious motion.

“What about yours?” Darcy speaks up, bringing her glass to her lips but looking over the rim expectantly at Alec till he grasps she must be referring to his runes.

“Somewhat of a family tradition.” He settles for, void of any further explanation as to their meaning for the mundane girl, “My brother and I share them. My sister too.” 

“Your bother being this Jace guy? The one that’s getting married and dragged you here.”

Alec nods. He can see Jace from here, happily enjoying the company of a tall girl in a white frock-like undergarment. Though, the blonde shadowhunter is strictly keeping his hands to himself, letting only his blue-brown eyes wonder. Simon, at his side, however, seems to be not as careful with where his hands are winding up… Alec looks away.

“I don’t know him personally but he can’t be all that considerate of others seeing as he took his bent brother to a straight strip club.”

“Bent?” Alec asks, amused.

“Sorry, is that rude, I just mean…”

He waves a hand to dismiss her apology with a small smile. “I wouldn’t put ‘considerate’ on Jace’s list of traits.” Alec mumbles.

“Still, didn’t he realise…”

“Think it’s the last thing on his mind right now.”

“Right, his marriage. So, he asked you to be his best man?” The question draws Alec’s eyes up to the girls once more. As of four hours ago, the official answer to that question is now ‘yes’. An equally good and nerving feeling. Jace said he wouldn’t have to make a speech. He’s counting on that.

He nods in response.

She smiles, observing her nails as considerations flicker through her eyes. Something seems to come to her: “It’s late.”

Alec nods again, his watch puts it at almost past midnight.

“Shit, I need to be heading home.” Darcy says abruptly, pulling back slightly to let her feet come to the ground as she stands.

“Is everything okay?”

“Just dandy. But I can only ignore my curfew to a certain extent.”

His eyebrows furrow, gaze following the girl as she proceeds to slip out of her heals right there, at the bar, and retrieve them from the floor. That’s as she notices his confused expression: “I know, twenty-one-year-old who still lives with her dad, it’s sad. But I do need to get going, thanks for the dance.” She adds grinning, hand moving to her thigh before she seems to realise she has no pocket to dig into.

Alec glance to her hand, then up to her face, expression open and waiting for yet another explanation.

“I have cash in my jeans, gimme a sec to get them…”

Alec grabs her wrist to halt her movement. “Drinks on me, I owed you for the dance anyway.”

Darcy hesitates, seeming to consider whether it’s worth arguing. His hard stare must be enough to warn her off it though because, instead, the blonde surrenders a nod, grin spreading across her freckled face.

“Maybe we’ll meet again.” The girl jokes, taking two steps back and smiling fully. Mouthing one last thank you she ducks back into the crowd and, after a few minutes, Alec losses sight of her completely. 

***

“She’s just so beautiful, and I get to marry her.”

Alec acknowledges Jace with a grunt, lifting a hand to the door and relishing in the cool air of the night, absent of alcohol and as icy and pleasant as he’d expect it to be, as they leave the overwhelming music and stink of body odour and perfume of that hell dimension behind them.  

Jace weighs his entire weight on Alec’s left shoulder, and by the way Simon is swaying clumsily, two steps behind them, Alec’s aware that the vampire might be leaning on his right one all too soon. The trip back to the institute might prove slightly more difficult than he’d first anticipated but he’s one step closer to returning to Magnus’ loft and, anyway, now he’s out of that club, little can phase him.

“And she loves ME.” Jace cries, loud and sloppy in his ear. Because apparently when Jace is mindlessly drunk, he spends the time telling whoever’s unfortunate enough to be within vicinity, that he’s in love with Clary and listing all the reasons why.

Jace and Simon hadn’t rejected Alec when he’d approached them to suggest they head home. Instead, Jace had accosted his brother in an unconsciously violent manner, fastening a steel grip around Alec’s shoulders to begin slurring words about his marriage in Alec’s ear. Simon following in toe like a lost puppy follows its owner.

They’d stumbled past people with few collisions and distractions and made it to the door faster than Alec could have hoped.

Now all that matters is getting them back alive, maybe not awake but alive.

“I’m getting married tomorrow; can you believe it!?” Jace screeches again.

Alec’s unused to seeing Jace this smiley. It’s beginning to unsettle him.

“Unbelievable.” He mutters dully, because his brother doesn’t appear willing to drop his piercing stare without an answer or response on Alec’s behalf.

He fears Jace might speak again before a plea like shout splits the silent night air in two jaggered halves, and pulls both their eyes up off the concrete instantly.  

Like the hackles rise on a dog’s neck, Alec’s ears zone in on the noise; every soldier instinct analysing the sound and its possible origin and trigger. The final analysis his ears hone in on: the voice is familiar.

“I SAID STOP!”

All Alec’s aware of is that at some point, Jace’s weight vacated his shoulder and he stalked the enraged voices around a corner shrouded in the half-hearted flicker of a street lamp's orange glow, because, like an unseen on-looker he stands now in shadow, observing as two men standing cornering Darcy against the brick wall of the club.

Her outfit’s changed dramatically since the last fleeting glance he got of her disappearing into the body of people populating the dance floor inside. She now wears a pair of tight-fitting black jeans and a coat trailing almost to her knees. Her long, gold curls now atop her head in a messy bun and blue eyes still gleaming fiercely. 

“Come on Darce…”

“My name is Darcy and I told you, I'm not interested in anything you have to say…”

“And she already asked you to stop.” Alec’s voice, as he hears it echo back off the walls of the alley way, sounds unrecognisable in his own ears. He’s never heard it so strong, and after tonight, the sureness running through it makes it sound so foreign, he wonders if the words are his at all.

He bears no weapon on his shoulder, or blade in his hand, and yet against two petty mundanes, he almost feels guilty for recognising the superiority that most shadowhunters wear in permanent expression.

“And who are you?” Questions the guy who was addressing Darcy before. He steps forward, measuring up their heights and breadth, his shoulders reaching wider then Alec’s, arms thicker, and he lets his features pan out into a grin: “And why should I care?”

“Because you either leave her alone,” Alec begins, stepping to meet the approaching guy to show clearer their obvious height difference, “or I'll make you regret it.”

Alec’s conscious of Simon and Jace, now stood helplessly witness behind him; focused on keeping themselves upright probably while his focus remains on the doubt of Darcy’s face and the smug expression of the two men before him.

“Alec…” the girl makes two quick steps between them to reach Alec’s side and wrap her slim fingers around his forearm in a cautious touch. Can she feel it? Can she feel the muscles like metal beneath his skin? Muscles he’s trained for hours before dawn, every day for years.

Muscles that have protected his sister, and taken down demons. Muscles that pulled Magnus tight against him when he stood down from an alter and chose himself for the first time in his life. Muscles built to protect and to love, that have never once failed him in battle.

“Who is this, Darce? Another one night stand?” The man’s eyes turn from Alec to Darcy beside him and instinct draws Alec's foot in front of her, pushing his body forward to barrier her from their smug faces and arrogant stances.

“Try long term.” Darcy says next and Alec has to focus on not double taking.

“Long term!?” The man scoffs, moving to shove Alec back with a single step forward and quickly having to accommodate his uneven balance by falling back in a step when Alec doesn’t move an inch.

Instead, the shadowhunter cocks his head to the left, leaving only innocence on his features as he observes the shorter man.

He seems to recalculate his approach. “Long term, huh? Seemed to surprise him enough.”

Alec might be biased, he has many reasons to hate the mundane jack-ass, but there’s something dirty in the guy’s laugh that extends past even his crude behaviour.

Alec hears Darcy go to speak but the man cuts her off before a word can leave her mouth, “Kiss him then, if you’re so in love.”

So, Alec was correct. He is going to end up kissed by the night’s end.

He doesn’t hesitate turning to face Darcy with an open expression, be it his eyebrows are raised. And her eyes remain apologetic but she doesn’t hesitate either. Be it in fear of the two men watching on in rage, or determination to get it over with, she’s close within seconds before their breaths are sealed.

Alec’s always found being close to people flustering, though admittedly, he’s only ever been that close to Magnus’ before. But something about Darcy being so much of a virtual stranger with a plea on her lips, makes it easy to kiss her.

Something surprisingly pleasant for its simplicity, in its meaninglessness, and in retrospect, it was barely a peck.

The guys fist slamming into the side of his face had been unexpected. Though maybe Alec should have guessed that he was only daring Alec to kiss her, now ready to state his ownership. A reverberation through Alec's skull of hard knuckles, clumsy aim and the brute force of rage powering it to knock him a single step back. Good for a mundane.

And perhaps the guy had assumed the punch would do more for rendering him incapable of retaliation. That would explain his completely lack of defence as Alec returned the favour… to both men… simultaneously… leaving them mostly alive on the alleyway floor.

Chapter 5: A Midnight Stroll

“You drop your drunk family off in abandoned churches?” 

'And mundanes can't look through glamours' - Alec reminds himself with the question, smiling ever so slightly at the confusion thread between her furrowed eyebrows. It must appear odd to anyone who still views the institute as a desolate mere skeleton of a church, to leave Jace and Simon, drunk past awareness, 'alone' inside. It's never really occurred to him that should their glamour runes not exist, an awful lot of what the shadowhunter does on a daily bases would be seen as odd.

Another reminder of their stark opposite worlds, slotted so closely together they share almost everything except reality. For Alec, it is something entirely different to the version Darcy William's has no doubt held dear for all twenty-one years of her life so far.

“Another family thing?” She asks with raised eyebrows, taking in Alec's hesitation to explain. 

“Could say that...”

“You know, never could have guessed the stuttering loner I found at a bar would turn out to be a bad-ass ninja gay guy who goes to straight strip clubs to please his siblings and kisses strippers to save them from pervy-ex’s.”

The sentence causes the shadowhunter to grimace slightly, “neither could I,” and he passes Darcy a side on glance filled with nervous innocence better found on a child.

The twilight air is of the biting kind on this particular night, though it's Darcy's hands dug deep into her coat pockets hunching her shoulders that tells Alec this as opposed to his personal temperature gage which broke the one-hundredth and fifth time Jace kept them out all night on a hunt that reigned in little success. 'Feeling the cold is nothing but inconvenience for a shadowhunter' - had been Jace's words at the time till Alec had stopped complaining and, since, taking much notice of the temperature has been void from Alec's concerns.

Though neither speak up to agree it, before Alec can think to much of leaving Izzy alone to deal with a drunk Jace and Simon, he's following Darcy back along the pavement; one aimless footstep in the night after another, for once a comfort in the weightlessness of his shoulder.

“Neither did I expect you to be able to take on Daren and Curtis in that alley like you did," the girl comments again suddenly, breaking the silence, as though the thought's been hanging by the front of her mind for a while now. "Though I’m guessing if I ask…”

“Hard to explain.” Alec completes her sentence but is somewhat taken-a-back by her outburst of warm laughter that follows.

“Is there anything about you that is easy to explain?” Darcy chuckles, tossing her head to the side to flick a few stray curls - that have fallen from her bun - from her face. In comparison to the tension she held in her muscles a few hours ago, when Alec first met her in much less clothing, the girl almost holds herself entirely differently. It speaks of the unease she's at when in the club and Alec thinks he much prefers her like this; shoulders slack and head held up, eyes gleaming in self confidence he envies and recognises at the same time: The confidence he observes in someone very familiar. Magnus.  

“It would be the hardest to explain in my family.” Alec mumbles, a thought coming to his head that he isn’t sure he meant to pass through his lips. “Sorry…” Alec goes to justify the peculiar, out of context statement when the girl stops him with a humoured shaking of her head.

“The only thing a stranger will understand, is the only thing your family won't? And I'm the stranger?” She says, and poses it as a question to make sure she interpreted him correctly. How she got that from his babbled stream of conscious, Alec has no idea, but he gives a short nod, turning his gaze to the pavement to watch their out of rhythm feet instead. 

“Your sexuality?" She says softly then. 

“Izzy, my sister, she’s never really cared…" There's a long pause before Alec continues, biting his checks as he does: "I don’t really know when Jace figured it out, but it's never seemed to bother him either.” Alec lets out a breath then gives his lungs a chance to inhale all the cold air needed to cool the sting of the words that lie unsaid on his tongue. For whatever peculiar reason, he trusts Darcy with them, even if he's never really admitted them to himself:

“But they've never talked about it.”

The words feel heavier than he’d expected. They lie scorching in the frosty air; hanging their mercilessly taunting him because ever since he admitted to Izzy what she'd probably expected all along, all she'd ever say was why he should come out, not how she'd help him do it; and why it was his future he was wrecking, not realising it was hers he was simultaneously trying to protect.

“They, um... didn't, help me... when it came to telling my mother. " Alec coughs to clear his throat of hesitation, trying his best to shake the emotion from its tight grip on his features. "I guess they thought they were helping by being silent…” Then the words fade out altogether. 

She remains silent for a few moments, as if making sure Alec's not going to continue before sighing and looking up at him through bright eyes: “From one human to other, if it means anything from me, I really hope you’ll get them to understand one day.” Darcy says quietly, and Alec wants to tell her, although he’d never have thought about words coming from a mundane reassuring him before tonight, they do mean something from her. 

“Why wouldn’t it?” Alec mutters, kicking the gravel beneath his boots, keeping his eyes sown firmly to the ground and hands dug into his pockets like they wouldn’t normally be. It's not often Alec gets to act so heelless of caution; to be the teenager he never really got the chance to be. It maybe weird walking the streets unarmed but the impetuousness of tonight is sending adrenaline through his veins that perhaps he'll get drunk on the mundanity if it means the world doesn't weigh as heavy on his shoulders for one measly twenty-four-hours. “Why wouldn’t it mean something from you?”

“I take my clothes off for money.” Darcy quips clearly, water-vapour sailing from her soft, pink lips in ascending spirals that dissolve into the moonlight of the clear night air.  

“I risk my life for money. We all do stupid things.” 

Darcy quirks up with the statement, a conclusion dawning across her dark crystal eyes.

“Risk your life? Okay. Good to know.” She says, as if mentally storing the information. “Well, your stupid thing is noble.” She adds, turning back to the conversation at hand. 

“More like reckless.”

“Reckless?! Mine is far more reckless. Plus, it’s social looked-down upon and done out of desperation.” 

“Desperation? This have something to do with your dad?” 

Darcy’s expressions sets. A shadowhunter has to rely on retaining information during hunts that can span days and sometimes weeks, remembering Darcy's careless statement of paying study fees because he father couldn't was easily retained knowledge, but mundanes are often a lot more sensitive than shadowhunters, he shouldn't be so careless in his words. Regret begins to pool in Alec's gut...

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. You told me about your family.” She returns, rolling her shoulders and exhaling again to send yet more white mists out into the air in a large dragon-like puff of vapour smoke. 

The girl turns her gaze outwards however, finally drawing Alec’s gaze out enough to observe the fact that they’ve reached a bridge and now stand witnessing the glimmering beams of moonlight dance perfectly over the light ripples of a river below them. Darcy remains quite, taking to standing still to observe the city lights reflect perfectly on the water's surface, like earth bound stars that have fallen from the dark canvas above.  

“My... my mum died when I was really small; I've got one of those sob stories you read about in newspaper articles, but I was only three at the time and... I can't really remember." She keeps her eyes sealed to the water but speaks easily as though rehearsed: "It’s been me and my dad ever since."

Alec's never lost a parent, but a hunters life is by no means void of loss; her familiarity with the words is what sets an aching through his chest but he waits patiently for her to continue. "When I left school, he didn’t really have the money to pay for my art course so I got a job as a bar tender and well… the pays good, I can’t complain.” 

The words leave her lips almost effortlessly considering their context, but conflict now brims her eyes.

“Not stupid then,” Alec mumbles. This time, when she glances up to him, he keeps his eyes in place to lock with hers: "Brave.” She studies his features and if she knew Alec, she’d have expected the devastating honesty painted across his face.  Instead, Darcy looks surprised.  “I’m just stupid.” The shadowhunter adds, beginning to walk along again slowly, the girl following behind a few paces slow.

“Stupid for risking your life?”

“Adrenaline.” He states matter-of-factly. “It won’t matter to me if I’m hurt. It’s not bravery is carelessness.” 

“Well it will matter to me so don’t do anything stupid.” The sentence surprises Alec this time, but Darcy’s face remains certain of them even after the words hang in the air for a few minutes. 

Alec isn’t sure how long the silence continues for, as they continue to walk down streets and alleys, company the only mild concern in a night now empty of any other. But perhaps he’s been thinking about Darcy’s words because when he goes to break the silence, he finds he’s been debating the idea for a while.

“The bar tender, for the reception tomorrow, Izzy was trying to find a replacement this morning,” Alec comments, causing Darcy to glance up at him with surprise. 

“At your brother’s wedding?”

“I’ll ask Izzy and you can do it. She’ll pay generously and it’ll help.” He adds, watching the hesitation carefully cross her face.

“I don’t know Alec, crash your brother’s wedding…”

“I invited you.” The shadowhunter returns her studious gaze with one of equal intensity. A challenging glance of confidence and self-satisfaction as he observers the girl’s objection begin visually fading from her features.

“Fine.” 

With the word, Darcy reaches out to take Alec’s right hand in hers, hesitation vacant from the action causing the shadowhunter to comply only slightly bemused. Then, from a pocket she produces a pen, marking down messy numbers in stark ink across his palm and signing her name beneath. 

“Ask your sister and text me.”

Alec grins. The perfectly muddling ending to the perfectly peculiar night. He went to a club, got a lap dance from a female stripper, kissed her outside said club and ended the night with her number written across his palm. The events solidifying his certainty once and for all: Alec Lightwood is too gay for this shit. 

“You had a destination in mind?" Darcy queries as Alec stops, glancing up at the Magnus’ apartment block before them, "I was kinda just walking.” 

“I didn’t,” Alec begins, glancing back at her, “but I end up here often without meaning to.” The shadowhunter finishes.

“Who’s waiting inside?” She asks, pulling the question from thin air and setting a deep scarlet blush across Alec’s checks. “You have a boyfriend?!” Darcy exclaims, reading his useless facial expressions with such ease you’d have thought she knew him far longer than a single night.

“Did I forget to mention that?” He murmurs through his blush.

“Yes. Yes you did." She returns, a mixture of joy and shock across her face till something seems to occur to her: "And you let me kiss you?” Darcy demands then, fingers sealing around his elbow to keep him from ducking away from her stare.

"I- ur, yes...?"

"You let me kiss you even though you have a boyfriend?!"

"If it meant not fighting the mundanes. It wasn't exactly a fair fight." Alec returns, thinking back to the caged feeling he'd felt in the alleyway. Fighting them was always weighed in his favour, if letting Darcy kiss him defused the situation without need of violence, Alec would have preferred it. As it was, the men hadn't left it that way, and he'd gotten carried away in anger; he should have left them conscious.

"Mundanes?" Darcy's eyebrows are low across her face contorted in confusion, Alec slipped up again. As he goes to explain himself he finds the girl already talking over him though: "But you beat them up anyway."

"A last resort; not until he punched me."

The justification is enough for Alec though Darcy seems to need a moment to take it all in, returning her eyes to the building before him after several seconds and giving it a one over, features returning to a more neutral expression.

"What about this boyfriend, are you going to tell him?"

"Lying never works out for me... ever." Alec says, dropping his gaze to the ground to avoid Darcy's. And that's as true as it gets because apparently even denying his sexuality all his life never fooled anyone. Magnus' sees through him about everything, and tonight as a whole is a pretty un-missable everything. Not being completely open about it would be pointless.

"What's he like?" She asks suddenly, and all the accusation has left her voice. The abrupt void of defence required in his answer pulls his eyes up quickly, to find Darcy returning a soft expression, eyes fill with wonder.

Alec has an answer on his lips almost instantly before his chest seizes up with the word; it's filled with honesty he's not sure he's ready to share with this stranger. 

"What? Were you going to be all soppy? Because, please, go ahead; I think I'm getting used to the stuttering loner I found at a bar continually surprising me with more sides to his complex and mysterious personality." Darcy says, a smile now finding home on her lips, eyes gleaming in the glow of streetlamps. 

He surveys her silently, eyes studying her features because while Alec's begun to feel in serious need of rest, he's in awe of her alertness. "Magical..." he mumbles and watches her smile crack wider.

“Will he be at the wedding tomorrow?”

Alec nods. 

“Then I guess I’ll see you then.” The girl passes him a wink then drops her gaze to the ground. “I had a great night, mysterious-stuttering-ninja-boy.” Her smile extends to almost past the barriers of her face when Alec looks back at her in devastation at the nick-name. 

A chaste kiss to his check, a warm memory as her breath leaves a final mumbled ‘thank you’ along with it, the shadowhunter turns on his heels to watch the girl disappear down the street, skip to her step.

It's the Chairman who welcomes him at the front door of Magnus' apartment, pushing against Alec’s leg in a plea for attention as the shadowhunter enters quietly and silently relishes in the familiarity and pure tranquillity of the hallway. Smiling fondly, he pulls the cat up easily into his arms to cradle it against his chest, to the cats immense joy. Midnight was a while ago, and from what he can tell, most of the apartment's lights are off. His warlocks probably asleep.

Stepping as gingerly into the longue as he can, Alec's surprised to look up and see, l ying across the sofa, dark eyes under hooded eyelids, soft smile just quirking his tired lips, Magnus glance up as he enters. 

“You waited.”

“I did."

Notes:

I do believe there is a wedding next chapter......
Thanks for anyone who is enjoying reading, I think there's probably only two more chapters left (but we'll see). A lot more malec fluff to come ;)

Chapter 6: A Wedding

Notes:

Such drama ;)

“I have a vague recollection of being carried to bed.” The warlock's voice comes from the door, sleep still clinging to it and Magnus himself where he leans in the doorway in nothing but boxers and what Alec recognises to be one of his old black jumpers. "Though, I can’t say I really remember much of you returning; I believe it was rather late.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it was later than expected.” The shadowhunter turns to face the sleeping man fully and take in Magnus’ bed hair he's too exhausted to magic right.

Guilty about the feeling or not, Magnus did stay up till almost 2 am for him, Alec enjoys Magnus like this. Carelessly him, his gleaming cat eyes tired looking but no less beautiful than always. Alec's jumper long on his torso, reaching almost his mid thigh, and sleeves pulled over his hands, arms loose at his sides.

A side Alec doubts Magnus' shows many people, even past lovers. It took the warlock months before he'd let Alec persuade him to leave his eyes unglamoured. And seeing as Alec had gaged a long time ago that long term lovers were actually quite rare in Magnus' centuries, that leaves few others the time to have been blessed with the sight that is Magnus, most definitely not ready or willing to be awake.

The shadowhunter had had the intention of making Magnus breakfast in bed. Despite the warlocks efforts to train him not to wake before sunrise, Alec always will, no matter the hours of sleep he gets. But breakfasts are one of the advantages. Except, this time, it seems Magnus has followed him in his early rise - though he's still willing to show his displeasure about it.

Magnus' cat eyes flicker as he passes Alec a look from the door way waiting for him to continue with an explanation for his lateness.

It's as the shadowhunter goes to open his mouth that the warlock steps two wearisome steps into his reach and wraps himself around Alec's middle to lay his head on Alec’s shoulder. And the shadowhunter can guess he's closed his eyes.

“I had to carry Simon and Jace back to the institute.” Alec mumbles, sealing his arms around the warlocks back so they stand pressed as tightly as probably possible.

“Carried…” Magnus mumbles against his chest. “Both of them? By yourself?”

Alec hesitates then answers with a quick nod. He invited Darcy to the wedding. She’s going to be behind the bar at the reception party which means Magnus will most definitely meet her. Still, he doesn’t feel the need to go into detail right at this moment.The longer he can deny last night even happened, the better.

“So, how was it?” Magnus asks, bring Alec out of thought, and he lifts his head just enough to meet Alec’s eyes; his own shining in a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Alec sighs at the warlock’s small but smug grin, who continues to then laugh, adding: “That bad?”

“Will you call me melodramatic if I say yes.” Alec grumbles, repeating a word Magnus has used to describe him several times in the past. Though, to the warlock’s credit, in every situation he’s used it, it’s always fitted Alec pretty well.

“No. I know how much you were dreading it. I'm proud of you; you survived it.” Magnus quirks, and Alec's expression softens as the warlock brings his forehead to press against the shadowhunters, arms hung over Alec’s shoulders and wrists crossed behind his head.

Alec smiles, closing the remaining distance between them, and Magnus hums contently, meeting him half way.

Despite whether it took last night to be certain or not, Alec will never take kissing Magnus for granted. Kissing that grows only more intense when the warlock happily allows Alec to push him flush against the wall, heat filling his muscles with flustering affection from the man underneath his arms.

It’s electricity so different from that of last night, in the crimson lighting and deep stench of alcohol. Electricity that powers currents through him, setting his heart hammering against the constraints of his rib cage and breath out of control.

Because Magnus meets him kiss for kiss, lazy in comfort and deep in familiarity, as meaningful as sleep allows the warlock to be with the mild taste of cocktails still lingering on his tongue. Mouths fitting together like jigsaw pieces cut to fit, magnets in their chests pulling them close.

It’s a gravitational force Alec obeys when within Magnus’ orbit. Gravity he’ll never admit to being slightly addicted to for the weightless feeling succumbing to it gives him. 

Alec knows this particular kind of gravity is unique from some within a life time but he’s happy if loving Magnus is all he’ll get to do with mortal years. When kissing him slow, telling of how deeply he believes in the word as he utters it to the warlock through kisses, it all feels just right.

Not a lot in Alec’s life has ever been right but this is just right.   

***

Clary was pretty.

Well, everyone said Clary was pretty. People reduced to silent awe as the red head in white had made her way down the isle – Luke by her side – stepping slow because, while the on-lookers beside him uttered words of wonder at her dress, Alec seemed to be the only one concerned she might trip. That the length of snowy fabric surely made that sort of thing inevitable.

Plus, Alec isn’t quite sure what constitutes ‘pretty’. Izzy had made an awful fuss getting Clary ready; which had been partially relieving seeing as that drew the attention away from him and his… navy suit.

Alec isn’t quite sure of the navy part either but that had been Magnus and Izzy together, an unbeatable due in fashion opinion, Alec hadn’t bothered with a complaint.

He’d have preferred black but he would remain silent if it meant he kept the look in Magnus’ eyes when he’d first tried on the navy blazer that hugged tight at his shoulders.

The ceremony as a whole had been as Alec had expected. Agonisingly painful to sit through till betraying pride ambushed him as Jace said his vows. And Izzy caught the small smile on his lips with a smug grin of her own. Alec had given Izzy Darcy’s number this morning. Whether his sister got around to calling her or not, the blonde hadn’t been at the church.

It was walking through the double doors of the large and decorative art studio Clary and Izzy had decided on as the venue for the reception that Alec locked eyes with her, grinning from her spot behind a makeshift bar, drinks in hand and eyes as bright and gleaming as they’d been the night before. Darcy Williams.

“Alexander?”

It’s Magnus’ concerned voice that brings Alec out of thought, turning to his boyfriend as they stand in the doorway.

Magnus’ suit matches his, though a silk waistcoat hugs his torso where Alec is without. It isn’t unusual to see Magnus in a blazer but it is a particularly nice blazer that the warlock wears well with golden tints in his hair and eyes dark now they’re out in public.

Alec wishes they weren’t out in public.

“Are you okay?” Magnus’ is asking, gaging the slightly dazed look the shadowhunter sports with mild concern.

“Fine.” Alec returns, dropping his gaze to the ground and clearing all other thoughts from his head. Darcy’s watching them. He saw that much as they entered.

“How about you go and congratulate that brother of yours,” Magnus suggests, probably sensing an unease in Alec he’ll assume is to do with the party, as he places a light touch to Alec’s arm to draw the hunter’s gaze up. It seems a good enough task to set his mind to in way of a distraction, Alec thinks, nodding. “I’ll go get us drinks.” The warlock adds, stepping into the studio atmosphere completely.

Two steps in and it comes to Alec all to suddenly that the sentence implies Magnus is heading for Darcy. Not that he'd be able to stop him now. It doesn't matter. It can’t matter. He should find Jace… Where ever Jace is.

A quick glace around the faces and Alec’s taken aback by the contentment shown in the mundanes about the room that show little concern for the shadowhunters and downworlders among them.

They wouldn’t know, perhaps, Alec reminds himself, of the glamoured weapons or the fangs hidden by gums.

Maybe they’ve addressed the runes as simply cult symbols they’ll pay no attention to for now in hopes of the problem disappearing later. Seems like a mundane way of thinking as far as Alec’s concerned. Or perhaps when Clary introduced them to Jace, they elected to ignore the oddities to please the red-head and believe Alec and Izzy and every other shadowhunter crowded around the large hall-like room to be Jace’s strange family they will just forget to invite to family gatherings.

Either way, for now, they mingle obliviously. All relatively and unsettlingly joyous.

Alec, however, focuses on setting one foot in front of the other until he’s beside his brother and before his sister, among the supernatural and mundane alike, Jace leaning into his touch in a plea for escape as he stop next to him. What lecture is Izzy giving now?

“Jace?” She finishes, giving him a stern glare.

“Yes, Izzy. Go ahead.” He concludes a discussion Alec had the virtue of avoiding the majority of.

“You didn’t stutter your vows.” Alec says, pulling a wide grin across Jace’s face as he turns his full focus on Alec and away from Izzy who seems to roll her eyes, turn on her heels and sway her hips as she leaves.

“Well I had you by my side,” Jace replies, grin growing as he squares his shoulders in the smart black suit Izzy picked out for him. “Thanks for that.”

Alec acknowledges his thanks with a nod, turning a hesitant glance to survey the vampire walking their way.

“Congratulations on marrying my best friend, now treat her right.” Simon says, coming to a stop by them.

Jace seems to throw a glance over his shoulder but if it’s to find Clary, he’ll have no luck. Upon entering, she got swarmed by every female under the studio roof in squeals and laughter. She may not emerge from for a while - is Alec's hazarded guess.

“I intend to.” Jace replies anyway, turning back to them.

Alec notices Simon accept the response with an air of quiet confidence. Though Simon showing confidence in Jace makes Alec believe he might be seeing things.

“How many mundanes did Clary invite?” Alec mumbles, his mild distress showing through his tone as he passes another glance about the room.

“Well seeing as she didn’t know anything about the downworld till she was eighteen years old, she had a while to befriend them.” Simon says sarcastically, earning him a short burst of laughter from Jace.

“Simon’s got a point, Alec.” Jace defends humorously when Alec passes him a glare.

“You’re agreeing with the vampire now?” Alec asks, somewhat surprised, somewhat not.

“Yeah, I mean, Simon and I are good.” Jace says, glancing cautiously at the vampire who confirms the statement with an over enthusiastic nod of his head. Though everything Simon tends to do is a little over enthusiastic.

“Since I found out Jace likes James Bond.” Is Simon’s response, and Alec decides he might leave this conversation now.

“Shadowhunters aren’t completely withdrawn from the world, believe it or not.” Izzy’s voice perks up and now Alec’s almost certain he wants to escape this conversation as Izzy’s looping her arms through his. “Jace has been following the movies since he was a kid.”

Jace grimaces ever so slightly but surrenders a nod. Denying anything that comes off Izzy’s lips is just a bad life choice. Alec and Jace both know that well from experience.

“Big brother,” the dark eyed girl is looking back at him with such exhaustion but pride, Alec can’t help granting his sister his full attention, blocking it out as Jace and Simon fall into conversation about spy-fiction and blockbuster films.

“I don’t know where you found her, but Darcy is great. She’s agreed to stay and clear up after, I don’t know what I’d have done for a bar tender if it weren’t for her and you so, thank you.”

Alec gives Izzy a short nod. It’s her mention of Darcy that causes him to glance over to the bar and hesitate when he finds it vacant.

“Where is Darcy?” He asks. “…And Magnus?”

“Retrieving more wine bottles from downstairs. Magnus offered a helping hand. Why?”

Alec answers his sister with a passing shrug, beginning to walk from the wide, spanning windows he found Jace at, back over to the bar on the opposite side of the studio. Maybe he can catch them before Darcy mentions anything about last night to Magnus. Maybe he can persuade Magnus to go home. Isn't the ceremony the important part at weddings? Do they really have to stay through the reception as well?

His steps are fast as he narrowly slips around groups growing as more people arrive. He weaves his way nimbly through people and creatures alike; traveling the room in more hunter mode than anything else. Keeping his head low, eyes floor bound, motion fast paced because if last night taught him anything...

“Alexander.”

The warlock says his name, causing Alec to whip around just as he reaches the bar. And sure enough, Magnus, with Darcy in toe, is coming through the studio entrance once more, carrying a box filled to the brim with glinting bottles of various coloured liquids.

“Darcy was just telling me that she knew you…”

“We… met last night.” Alec mumbles lowly, taking a seat at the bar in fear of his unsteady balance while nervously regarding the two as they walk around the bar to place the boxes on the opposite side. What’s worse, is he can hear Simon and Jace approaching, voices still interlocked in avid discussion. Izzy, who followed his curious and sudden departure and arrived beside him at the bar only seconds after he did, is taking a seat next to him.

'So this is how it's going to go down?' Alec muses exasperatedly to himself. 'This is where everything explodes'.

“Last night?” Queries Magnus, stopping to glance his way.

“At the club?” Questions Izzy, turning to look her brother over.

“You didn’t mention it?” Darcy asks, freezing her motion.

Then even Jace and Simon's voices seem to go quiet.

“Wait, aren’t you the stripper Alec kissed last night?” Simon’s voice rings out in devastating simplicity.

“Alec?!”

The question is simultaneous and universal. Every pair of eyes Alec cares to notice on him at once and every muscles down the length of his body setting to stone.

All his life, Alec had awaited the moment he'd have to provide explanation for kissing someone. In a messy knot of well-meanings and clumsy denial, he'd tie himself so tight eventually all the strings would snap and the blinding, dragging force of lust would do its bidding and leave his life in unexplainable shambles he'd have to try and explain right anyway.

All his life, Alec had awaited the moment he'd have to provide explanation for kissing a guy. In a messy tangle of best-intentions and blundering denial, he'd tie himself so tight eventually he'd snap and wreck the lightwood reputation for good.

Alec could never have imagined the moment he'd have to provide explanation for kissing anyone, would be in the case of kissing a girl.  

“I can explain," Darcy is antsy to blurt out, "I kissed him…”

“Biscuit,” Magnus silences her with a ringed finger and quirk of his glossed lips, “I’m about as worried of Alec cheating on me with a female stripper as I am of Alec becoming a stripper. Though I am curious of how you came about kissing my boyfriend.”

Darcy's pupils are blown wide, flicking between Alec and Magnus in awed shock. “My, my arse-hole of an ex," she mumbles, regaining her composure, "threatening to do who knows what to me regardless of my feelings about it outside a club. I kissed Alec to try prove I’d moved on.”

“Try prove?” Izzy asks, investment in the story showing through the way she leans forward from where her elbows rest on the bar surface.

“He didn’t exactly leave it there…” Darcy begins, trailing her eyes over all the expectant faces. “But Alec beat him up something impressive… I mean, you should have seen it…”

“I can believe it.” Magnus says plainly, drawing Alec's eyes to him. The Warlock’s listening, but his expression is neutral. Not pulled into a contortion of confusion and anticipation simultaneously like that of the others.

In fact, Darcy’s words have almost softened his features to a quiet amusement, Alec would say. Izzy’s is the only face folding into anger at the blonde’s words.

“So you kiss strangers who try to help you…” Izzy goes to accuse, Alec grabbing his sister's arm firmly to pull her back into her seat.

“I met Darcy inside, we weren’t strangers by then.” Alec states more solidly than he’d thought his constricted throat would have allowed. Breathing still isn’t any easier though.

“SHE WAS THE STRIPPER YOU DANCED WITH!” Simon exclaims, obviously recognising Darcy in that moment and obviously still unaware that his sudden out bursts aren't only not helping matters, but also strengthening Alec's desire to strangle the vampire with every passing moment. Instead, however, the shadowhunter drops his forehead to the bar to hide the scarlet dye of his cheeks.

Jace snorts in an attempt to hold back laughter. “You danced with my brother? How did I miss that?”

“I didn't dance.” Alec groans, even Izzy’s laughing now.

The shadowhunter’s eyes flash up only when a hand comes to rest over his. It's the warlocks gaze he meets, and though Magnus has a grin on his face, the gleam in his eyes speaks of a different emotion. And it’s not anger.

In fact, he must be seeing things. Affection?

***

“But you didn't kill them?” Magnus asks, and it appears to Alec that the warlock might be genuinely concerned for a moment.

He shakes his head slowly – hearts beating fiercely like mice as Alec had turned his back on the two men heaving through blood on the alley way floor (even then, Alec hadn't broken bones) –he'd definitely left them alive.

“But not before Darcy kissed you?” Magnus asks, and now he's smiling.

Alec blushes, eyes trailing to his feet. They stand in the hallway outside the studio reception party that’s now in full swing, music booming loudly – even through the walls.

Magnus had led him out somewhat twenty minutes ago, before Simon had the chance to blurt out anything further, and as relieved he’d been to be leaving Jace, Simon, Izzy and Darcy behind, the idea of facing Magnus after that had been a nerving one to start with.

Once out in the quiet air of the corridor, though, Alec had done his best to retell the tale of last night - in vivid detail this time as to not leave anything out - despite his stutter at times. Not that Magnus' gradually growing amusement helped all that much.

“Oh Alexander,”

“This wasn't the reaction I was expecting.” Alec grumbles, but complies when Magnus grips the front of his blazer to pull him closer so that stand well into each other’s personal space, now completely oblivious of the party they left behind the large sliding doors down the corridor.

“I can hardly blame you for catching so much loving attention; with a face like yours, it’s an unavoidable hazard.” Alec manages to blush further at the compliment, “and I still find it hard to believe you thought I'd be angry at you for saving Darcy.”

“I told you me going was a bad idea.” Alec murmurs.

“Ah, but what might have happened to her if you hadn’t?” Magnus asks, eyes glinting as he places his arms around the shadowhunters neck to gaze up at him with a less than innocent look.

“You like her.” Alec observes and Magnus laughs but doesn’t deny it.

Whether it's the centuries that taught him the habit, Magnus has always been good at analysing people over mere conversations enough to decide whether its a liking or distain he'll hold for them. And already, in the fraction of an hour spent receiving boxes of alcohol down a flight of stairs accompanied by the girl, the warlock has decided that Darcy is on the first of the two lists.

“As intolerant of ‘mundanes’ as he is, my boyfriend spent an entire night talking to her. I think that justifies my partiality of her.” Magnus says, placing a kiss at the corner of Alec’s mouth. “Now, I intend to enjoy the rest of this party so, are you going to join me?”

***

“I prefer a cocktail myself, though Alec usually doesn’t join me then, so I settle for wine.” Magnus teases, taking the drink from Darcy’s extended hand.

“I’m guessing, then, it was the club atmosphere that got him to down a shot of vodka?” The girl muses.

Alec groans.

“Vodka?” The warlock repeats, eyebrows raising. “A club you say? I’ll remember that.”

“Why? Where do you usually go on dates?” Darcy asks.

“Not clubs.” Magnus chuckles. “A country that doesn’t speak English if Alec can help it, otherwise, my balcony?”

Alec groans louder.

“But that works for my cat.”

“You have a cat?”

“Yes. Chairman Meow.”

“You have a cat called Chairman Meow?”

“Yes.”

Darcy’s turn to chuckle.

“And the Chairman likes Alec then? Because he keeps you at home.”

“I don’t date people my cat doesn’t like. And home works for me too. A lot more you can do there.”  

Magnus’ tone his dripping with connotations as he passes Darcy a wink from across the bar and her chuckle morphs into full on laughter.

Alec rolls his eyes.

He’s was right to have been nervous about Magnus meeting Darcy. Be it the reasons are just a little different than he’d preconceived.

Notes:

A longish chapter with a lot that happened. Tell me what you think about Darcy and Magnus' relationship. I did enjoy writing this chapter.

Chapter 7: A Proposition

“It’s a job, not a prison sentence, Alec. I can stop whenever I wish, I just happen to not wish because I need the money.” Darcy’s voice persists on the other end of the line. “Plus, who are you to judge my decisions ‘Mr. It’s-not-a-cult’”

“It isn’t a cult.” Alec defends lamely, always void of explanations for the mundane girl.

“But you all live in an abandoned church, share tattoos of mysterious symbols, and spend a surprising amount of your time nowhere to be found. Alec, you’re in a cult.” Darcy concludes, and Alec can hear the sound of glasses clinking together vaguely, like washed out white noise.

That means Darcy’s already behind the bar for tonight.

“Which I’m not judging you for. I’d be the last person to judge but it does mean you have no grounds on which to criticise my job choices.” She adds.

From Magnus’ balcony, the shadowhunter can just about see the part of Brooklyn the club calls home; with its relatively plain exterior, polar opposite to the interior Alec swore he’d never step in again unless he absolutely had to.

“What if…” Alec hesitates mid-way through the sentence, the mundanes names having slipped from memory again.

“Daren and Curtis come back? Alec, if they ever brave their faces here again, let alone within twelve meters of me, I’ll spit in Kim’s face and quit my job.” Darcy seems to almost laugh her way through the statement as if she’s imagining actually spitting in her managers face.

“And I say that because I strongly believe that those idiots would be even more idiotic than I’d first perceived them to be not taking your beating as a good enough warning to stay away.”

“Magnus wants you to come to dinner tomorrow night.” Alec says quickly, supposing that any further argument on the pervious subject would be pointless.

“And what about you Alec?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to come.”

“Is Izzy coming too?” Darcy queries, amusement filling her light tone.

Alec hesitates, running a careful eye over the skyline before sighing and turning his back on it, letting his weight weigh lightly on the balcony edge. “Yes.”

Having his sister and Magnus in the same room is awfully tiring at times. His sister does love to mock Alec, especially about his love life, and if it means enjoying the blush of Alec checks, Magnus usually doesn’t aid in stopping her.

Perhaps Darcy will make it worse. Darcy has mocked Alec in the past. However the girl has an annoying habit of making Alec smile and perhaps Darcy will make it more enjoyable instead.

On the other end of the line Darcy starts laughing and though it’s a teasing laugh, the shadowhunter finds himself just about smiling, her contagious cheerfulness to blame. “I’ll be there, don’t worry, Alec.”

“Thank you.” He mumbles.

She laughs again and the line goes dead as she ends the call.

The clear night is less chilling than it can be sometimes, so standing on his warlock’s balcony, Alec’s quite content to be in merely a vest and pair of loose fitting trousers. But as refreshing as it is, eventually Alec decides returning inside will prove more beneficial.

This way he can make himself a coffee while waiting for the warlock, who’s been in his office along with a client for the past hour. Not unusual. In fact, it’s almost as common as Alec choosing to remain at the loft till Magnus’ emerges again.

But inside he’ll have company in the Chairman if nothing else.

Sure enough, as he’s padding into the kitchen, the feline appears around the doorway, readily seeking attention because Magnus will almost always kick him out of client meetings for this exact reason. Alec takes pity on Chairman Meow for that.

It’s what impels the shadowhunter to pause, scooping the cat up in both arms and letting the Chairman nuzzle into his chest, purring deeply as Alec takes to scratching the cat behind it’s ears.

The sound of movement else were in the apartment momentarily catches Alec’s attention, as, one arm still cradling the cat, he reaches out another to the coffee machine on the counter.

“Meetings over?” Alec muses to Chairman Meow.

As if understanding him, the cat squirms and Alec leans down a fraction to let the Chairman jump cleanly from his arms, turning back to his coffee.

Barely seconds later, Magnus stands in the doorway, Chairman Meow now in his arms, the warlock grinning softly.

“Can I have a cup?”

Alec grins, opening the cabinet door to retrieve the next mug on the shelf only to pause at the noise that radiates through the quite room when something rattles against the inside of the china.

“So less people flirt with you at bars.” Magnus voice comes from behind him. “Regrettably, with you Alexander, it’s always going to be a risk but some people might take the hint.”

Tilting the mug to glance over the rim, the shadowhunter can only let out a breath, retrieving the golden band from inside to stare at it awe struck.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with big romantic gestures and yet with you Alec, I’ve thought about a million ways to ask you and none have seemed to fit other than simple words and honesty.”

He turns to the warlock then, a stunned look remaining between his features. If he’d expected Magnus to be looking back at him all calm and collected, that isn’t what he finds.

Magnus has deposited the Chairman onto the kitchen tiles once more and stands half way into the kitchen, eyes more terrified than Alec’s ever seen them, hands gripped together to still them from shaking.

“I’ve had centuries to fall in and out of love. I know the pain it causes, enough to doubt whether it’s all worth it sometimes. I’d pretty much given up on someone ever changing my mind,” Alec watches Magnus pause to let a long-winded breath pass his lips, and as much as he wills himself to move, Alec finds himself paralysed to the spot, restrained to merely watching the warlock.

“But you, Alexander, you’ve changed everything. You’ve surprised me over and over again, when I thought that was impossible. You made me feel so new to love I… I didn’t think I’d ever consider wanting to live only a short eternity alongside someone but… Alexander Gideon Lightwood, will you marry me?”

And of the millions of reassuring words he could have uttered to still Magnus’ trembling hands, and of the millions of ways he could have simply uttered yes, Alec Lightwood had no words to speak. So, once again, the shadowhunter let actions speak louder than words.

Pulling the warlock against him, he lets their lips crash together in messy, uncontrolled urgency; needing to make Magnus understand through every slow, burning kiss, almost as sloppy and unpractised as their first, he never needs to be nervous around Alec again.

Magnus responds with everything he has and Alec lets the sensation get to his head till he’s dizzy on the taste of the warlock’s lips, and drunk on the need to be close to him.

“As much as I adore kissing you Alexander, can I just clarify that as a yes?” Magnus hums breathlessly, pulling back a fraction though his hands remain at Alec’s hips, almost as if steadying himself.

All the shadowhunter can bring himself to do is nod against Magnus’ forehead, grinning to himself as from his back pocket, he pulls a metal object that’s been there for so many weeks, its absence is noticeable.

“You beat me to it.” Alec mumbles, bringing the ring up between them and feeling Magnus freeze, before a small smile is fighting to show on his lips.

It’s plain. Not really any more grandeurs than the band Magnus gave to him though engravings line the inside. Alec almost finds the need to justify it, as Magnus takes the ring between his fingers to examine it for himself.

“When I got it, I, ur, I knew I couldn’t beat you for style so instead I… I thought I’d get it engraved…”

“Is that the honesty rune?” Magnus asks, running the tip of his finger along the patterns that line the inner side of the gold band.

Alec nods. He doesn’t need to explain anything on behalf of that. Magnus knows what the rune means to Alec.

It’s a rune he’d only ever associated with Jace and Izzy before he’d met Magnus; before the warlock had come to be the prime reason the rune meant so much to him. So much more than its textbook purpose to the shadowhunter, who as honest as he was, found trusting others as a result hard and kept this rune for very few.

Kept it only to the people he trusted with everything down to the person he’d kept secret for most of his life. The identity he’d kept secret for most of his life.

The reason Magnus knew this was down to one particular night, he’d recognised and asked Alec about the rune and its meaning when the shadowhunter had subconsciously been tracing it on the warlocks back.

Recognising it now brings a wider smile to his face, eyes coming up to meet Alec’s.

“I’m sorry it’s plain…”

“It’s perfect, Alexander.” Magnus says, grinning and sliding the ring onto his left hand.

Returning the warlocks smile, Alec does the same then, admitting it feels weirder to him to have anything on his hands than it must do for the warlock who’s, in that moment, conjured away all other rings that had previously laden his hands.

“We can have a joint bachelor party.” The warlock murmurs happily, slinging his arms up and around the shadowhunters neck and pulling him close.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Magnus.” Alec states warily.

His doubt only causes Magnus’ smile to sink to a pout and Alec quickly finds himself pulled into nodding and surrendering agreement. “Fine, as long as there aren’t any strippers. Not at the party, not at the wedding, not at the reception.”

“But we have to invite Darcy,” Magnus mumbles and as he rests his forehead against Alec’s, his golden eyes gleam dreamily showing just how drunk he is on happiness. 

“Darcy’s the only exception.” Alec says.

Magnus seems to hum contentedly, as if this conversation isn’t really what he’s focused on at all, closing his eyes as they stand wrapped around each other and pressed close. “Magnus? No strippers!?” Alec expresses, wishing for a verbal response from the warlock.

“As you wish, Alexander.”

***

It was an observation on the shadowhunters behalf that saw the warlock’s left hand vacant of any rings whatsoever apart from the minimal golden band from then on. As if, despite its simplicity, the warlock was in constant awe of it.

He noticed that on days of rest, while they lay, legs and arms wrapped around each other, Magnus would twist and turn his now singular ring with a look so far away it was not possible to imagine where it could have taken him.

Then of course there were the odd days that their left hands would find each other, locking their fingers till metal met metal with a victorious clink, just as they had. Not planned, just as they had been, but warm and familiar.

Because for once in Alexander Lightwood’s life, he felt completely at peace, like no demon could harm him and no words could hurt him. Safe and protected by the new weight on his fingers.

The only metal to meet his hand with no pain intended purpose but rather love, deep, true and unguarded love. Love he no longer needed to hide.

And this new found feeling; this sudden urge deep within him to keep fighting; this tug in his chest that forced him on through cold and cruel, was reason enough for the young Shadowhunter that despite his mortal status, it was Magnus that made him eternal.

Notes:

And done. Writing that last chapter kinda almost made me emotional. I definitely intend on returning to this story in future works but that's it for The Saga of The Stripper and The Gay. I feel like having Izzy and Darcy both planning Malecs wedding will be really fun to write. Thoughts? Thanks to anyone who's read and commented. :)

Notes:

Any comments and constructive criticism are gratefully received. First time writing malec fanfiction, hope you enjoyed reading. :) x

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Saga's of a Bisexual and a Gay