Chapter Text
The day Alec gets his first few gray hairs, Magnus sighs happily.
“Finally,” he grins, “I’ve always thought you’d look good a silver fox.”
Alec rolls his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as Magnus crawls onto his lap. “Didn’t know you had a thing for old men,” he quips.
“Three gray hairs do not make an old man, Alexander,” Magnus chuckles as he noses into Alec’s neck, “Take it from someone who’s actually an old man.”
Alec looks at Magnus, his gaze pointed. “You say that as if you didn’t go ballistic at the sight of one gray hair on your head.”
Magnus remembers when the memory gave him merciless pain. Nowadays, he lets himself chuckle at the thought. “Was admittedly not my best self that night.”
Alec’s palms press against Magnus’ side, comforting. “Understandably,” he murmurs, before asking, “Can you promise me one thing?”
Alec’s tone is suddenly serious as he looks imploringly into Magnus’ eyes. Magnus sits back onto Alec’s thighs, concerned. “Of course, darling. Anything.”
Alec grasps Magnus’ shoulders, forlorn. “If it comes down to it,” he draws in a staggering breath, “Magic my bald spot away.”
Magnus blinks, watching as Alec loses his cool and finally erupts into a side-splitting laugh. Alec throws his head back until it butts against the back of the couch, a palm pressed against the spot where his heart rests. The lines around his eyes crease beautifully, now a little bit more pronounced than before.
“You’re a little shit,” Magnus complains, and Alec takes Magnus’ face within his hands and presses a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Don’t let me end up looking like my dad,” he wheezes, “God, please don’t.”
Magnus ends up laughing too, kissing the lines around Alec’s eyes.
“Fine,” Magnus says, “Now fuck me before the kids get home. Or do you need help with your back too?”
A smirk grows on Alec’s mouth, the same mouth that swallows Magnus’ yell as Alec flips both of them onto the couch.
They have an hour before a portal from the academy materializes inside their living room.
Magnus sighs, his brow scrunched in annoyance. He takes a big breath and yells up the flight of stairs, “Max Michael Lightwood-Bane, Raphael Santiago Lightwood-Bane!”
Magnus waits, fingers impatiently drumming against the wooden railing, as a muffled mess of a response echoes from behind closed doors. He hears one door being thrown open.
“Dad, I’m still trying to figure out this suit,” Rafe yells, “How are there three pieces?!”
Magnus calls out, “Max, help your brother!”
One room down, Magnus hears his other son snort.
“If he’s twenty-three years old and still doesn’t know how a suit works, that’s on him,” Max sneers, which earns him an irate suck my dick, asshole from his older brother. A loud scuffling ensues, and even without seeing it, Magnus knows they’re trying to punch at each other’s private parts.
Magnus sighs exasperatedly. These boys are in their early twenties, and they’re trying to ball-tap each other into submission. Magnus wonders if all this tomfoolery would have been circumvented by having girls instead.
“By Lucifer’s light, if you both don’t get down from there, I will lose it!” Magnus nearly bellows, and the threat successfully brings his two sons thundering down the stairs.
“We’re here,” Max pants, hands held out in placation, “Don’t get mad.”
“A little too late for that,” Magnus huffs in front of a mirror as he smoothens the creases on his jacket, staring down his reflection with a frown.
“We’re sorry, dad,” Max nearly pouts as he lays his head against Magnus’ shoulder, “We were just messing around. It’s those childhood bedrooms, it brings us back, you know?”
Rafe presses his palms over Magnus’ shoulders. “I know you’re stressed,” he says, “It’s dad’s fiftieth, after all.”
Magnus sighs as he reaches back to ruffle both Max and Rafe’s hair. He pats the back of Max’s hand.
“I just want it to be perfect,” Magnus admits.
“It will be,” Rafe presses, “We planned this thing down to those little things of food that goes on trays.”
Max rolls his eyes – it’s called hors d'oeuvres stupid – looking like the spitting image of a younger Alec as he does. He definitely got his sass from his other father, Magnus affectionately thinks.
“Dad will love it,” Max assures, “I promise.”
Magnus smiles at his two boys, perfect in their formal clothes. Max has hidden away his warlock’s mark, and Rafe’s runes peek slightly from underneath his sleeves. Magnus remembers when they were just little children, running around the living room with their small feet padding against the wooden floor. Now, Magnus has to look up at them.
Magnus remembers mournfully telling Alec about being the shortest person in the family, who only chuckles in response as he plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek. Magnus realizes he misses his husband terribly already.
“We gotta move,” Rafe says as he scrolls through his phone, “Uncle Jace says he’s taking dad to the New York Institute soon.”
“Let me,” Max says, “I’ve been practicing.”
“You better not singe my hair,” Rafe warns.
Max retorts, “It’ll be a great improvement.”
“Boys,” Magnus says before they delve into yet another scuffle. It effectively silences them both.
Max goes through the motions of creating a portal. A golden, circular rift erupts in the middle of the living room, the air around it distorting the fabric of reality. With a careful step, Rafe speedily enters. Magnus follows with Max quick on his tail, and before they know it, the darkness winks away into the grand hall of the New York Institute.
“Happy birthday, Consul Lightwood,” Alicante’s weapon’s master greets him as she passes by the open door of his office.
Alec peers over his reading glasses, smiling. “Thanks, Margo. Just Alec, remember?”
Margo turns a soft pink, chuckling. “Ah, yes. I always forget. I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Grab some cake on your way out,” Alec says, motioning towards the open box on the coffee table, “The students from the Academy sent it over.”
Margo’s brows rise in interest as she cautiously crosses the room and takes a peek into the box. Alec knows she has a sweet tooth.
“The students sent it?” she asks, “They must like you a lot. Most trainees are scared of their Consuls.”
“I do guest lectures on Nephilim-Down World Relations when I have the time,” Alec says as he scribbles something down on the document before him. He adds with a smile, “I give them archery pointers too.”
Margo ahhs, nodding with understanding. She picks up a paper plate and eyes the cake with interest.
“Take as much as you want,” Alec smirks to himself, “My husband’s on a warpath against processed sugar and will have a coronary if he sees me take all of this home.”
“Diabetes?” Margo asks with humor, as to which Alec laughs.
“Pre,” he points out.
“How is Magnus, by the way?” Margo asks.
The ease of Magnus’ name coming out of her mouth is a testament to his personability. Everybody likes Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Alicante. That and the fact that he has extended his services free of charge to Margo when he heard about her wish to transition. Alec and Magnus welcome Margo into their home every month for what Magnus calls ‘rebalancing appointments’.
“He’s alright,” Alec answers, “Meeting the whole family for dinner tonight. Rafe and Max portalled in this morning.”
Margo notes through a forkful of icing, “Must be something big.”
Alec chuckles, flipping to the next page of the document. “I have a feeling it might be bigger than what he lets on.”
“Well, good luck,” Margo grins as she slips out the door, “Hope you have a good birthday, Alec. And thanks for the cake.”
“Thanks and you’re welcome,” Alec says before reminding her, “Tomorrow, general assembly.”
“See you then,” Margo says before disappearing into the hallway.
Alec sighs, leaning back onto his chair that creaks under the shift of his weight. He takes his phone and opens the many birthday greetings that have trickled into his message box the past few hours, taking note to reply to all of them at the end of the day. He pulls up his conversation with Magnus and sees a reply from his last text.
Remember, 8 PM tonight. Love you :)
Alec can’t help but smile. He shoots a quick reply that consists of an I love you too that makes his heart flutter in his chest even to this day. He figures he should at least get to a bathroom and see if he needs to make himself more presentable after a twelve-hour workday.
Alec rises from his chair and maneuvers through a moderately busy hallway. He returns all the birthday greetings with a polite expression of gratitude until he slips into the private bathroom reserved only for him. The door closes with a click, and with that, he takes in his reflection in the mirror. He takes off his reading glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket.
“Happy fiftieth birthday, old man,” he says under his breath.
Alec takes stock of himself. He still stands tall even after fifty years of being alive. Despite the deep-seated aches in his muscles, his body can still withstand an interdimensional battle or two. His hair is more gray than black now, and every day, he discovers new lines on his face that weren’t there before. He doesn’t need to smile for his eye lines to show; it’s the most pronounced its ever been.
I like them, Magnus would always say with fondness, I used to have to wait until you smiled to see these lines. Now, you look like you’re happy all the time.
For a long time, Magnus’ immortality had long been the crack on the floor Alec chose to cover up instead of addressing. It was easy – so painfully easy – to forget the years of existence Magnus has in his back pocket when the only villainous things on the horizon were hell spawns and the madmen. Alec tended to forget that Magnus will be immortalized like this; smooth skin, shining eyes, for the rest of his life as Alec aged around him. But with Valentine gone and Edom in ruins, the battles Alec fought for the first few years of their marriage were the ones he was the most terrified of confronting.
Now, Alec believes he has grappled with the worst of it all. The fights he and Magnus used to have were agonizing; an exchange of caustic words that sometimes, despite their best efforts, were meant to maim. Hurting someone as steadfast as Alec Lightwood is a highly specialized skill, one only a few people truly possess. After all, it is the people who you love most who hurt you best.
Nowadays, a hard-fought acceptance is sheathed where helplessness used to be. At almost half-a-century old, Alec fights the fatalistic monster of his mortality differently.
He touches first. His fingers, aching at the joints, find Magnus’ sides like they always do. Magnus knowingly turns away from his work – potions, spells, politics – without a second thought, spinning easily on his heels, before gently culling Alec into his arms. Alec sinks into the crook of Magnus’ neck, breathing the scent of sage and castor oil deep into his lungs, a memory to keep.
There you are, Magnus would say, his mouth against Alec’s neck.
And like clockwork, Alec would say, there you are.
It doesn’t alleviate the ache, but it helps.
“Chop chop, old man,” Jace’s unmistakable voice calls, “We’re supposed to be meeting the family for your birthday dinner!”
The knock on the door wrenches Alec away from his thoughts, which is admittedly a welcome intrusion. With a thorough scrub of his hands under running water, Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you,” he calls back.
Jace teases from behind the door, “Still the first to hit fifty though. How does it feel to be decrepit?”
After drying his hands with a paper towel and a quick combing of his fingers through his hair, Alec emerges from the bathroom.
“I don’t know, how does it feel to have a bald spot?” Alec wonders with a smirk.
“Fucking rude,” Jace laughs as they both make their way through the hall, “Just because you have Magnus giving you magical hair plugs.”
“I’m married to a guy who will never age out of his hotness,” Alec says, “A full head of hair is non-negotiable. Also, this is all mine.”
“Bullshit,” Jace retorts, “You’re too old to lie about your looks, Alec.”
“I’m not lying,” Alec smirks, “Ask Magnus.”
“Sure, let me just ask the least biased guy in the world,” Jace scoffs before saying defensively, “Clary still finds me hot, I’ll have you know.”
Alec winces in disgust. “Did you really need to have me know?”
This earns Alec a kick on the shin, one that causes him to stumble. He snickers as he easily catches himself. They step out the ornate, arching door that opens into the courtyard where one of Alicante’s warlock mission specialists awaits.
“Anyway,” Jace says, his tone suddenly somber, “How are you feeling? This is a lot. With Magnus’ immortality and all.”
Alec doesn’t look at Jace as they cross the courtyard. Age has brought more than aching muscles and gray hair to their relationship. It has also gifted them with an openness that their younger selves were too stubborn to afford. Sometimes, Alec wonders what kinds of pain they would’ve been able to spare each other if they had learned to talk a lot sooner.
“I’m fine,” Alec says, instead, looking down momentarily at his hands. He sees the slight sag of skin there, as well as the softening callouses brought about by years of consul work.
“Be honest,” Jace says, and Alec feels his lips upturn into a small smile.
“I am,” Alec says gently, “I’ve thought about this. Tortured myself with it even, back when it all seemed too big to grasp.”
“And?” Jace prods.
“We’re happy,” Alec says, “That’s all that matters.”
“That simple, huh?” Jace says with wonder in his voice.
Alec shrugs. “We had to make it simple or else we’d lose our minds.”
“I miss being young,” Jace sighs as he follows suit, “Don’t you miss it?”
“I do miss waking up with my back not aching,” Alec admits.
They both settle to a stop. Alec nods politely at the warlock and a portal erupts before them, its edges tugging at the fabric of this dimension. Before stepping in, Jace places a sympathetic hand on Alec’s shoulder.
“There’s a stretch I do to loosen my back muscles,” Jace says, “It’s called sex. You’ve probably forgotten what that’s like.”
Jace looks immensely proud of himself.
“No,” Alec hums, “I got a pretty good reminder this morning.”
Jace’s deep laugh carries into the portal as they both step in. The last thing they hear from Alicante is the choking noise that comes out of the young warlock that closes the portal behind them.
Alec makes it a point to apologize to him the moment he gets back to Idris.
Oh, darling, Magnus murmurs, fingers spreading oil over the swollen knuckles of Alec’s hands.
Winter always does this to Alec’s bones. The chill seeps in deeply. All those years spent gripping seraph blades and drawing bows have worn down the cartilage in Alec’s joints. The arthritis gets exceptionally bad first thing in the morning.
Alec watches as Magnus kneads the stiffness away, the pads of his thumb circling the meeting points of his brittle bones. There's magic in the oil that no angelic rune or mundane remedy could match. Magnus wakes up early in the morning to brew it, just so he can ease Alec’s body into the day. Every stiff spot, every stubborn knot – Magnus knows them all by heart now.
Sorry, Alec whispers.
Magnus wonders, whatever for?
I don’t know, Alec admits.
Magnus digs his thumbs across the palm of Alec’s hand, releasing the tension that grips the muscles and tendons.
I’m happiest like this, Magnus says simply, nothing more.
By the time Magnus finishes, he presses a kiss onto the back of Alec’s hand. Magnus rises from the bed, muttering something about portalling to Rome for a cappuccino. He waits for Alec to ease himself off the bed and onto his feet. He takes Alec’s hand as they pad out of the bedroom.
From then on, Alec tries his hardest not to apologize anymore.
A chorus of happy birthday erupts the moment Alec sets foot onto the Grand Hall of the New York Institute.
Alec’s suspicion of the event, surprisingly, couldn’t dampen the grin that spreads over his face. Jace laughs beside him, palming his shoulder merrily. Izzy is the first to get to him with a tight hug that makes his bones ache. Unlike Alec and Jace, Izzy’s hair remains sleek-black and tied up in a ponytail. She is as young as the day she chose immortality.
“Happy birthday, Alec,” she says before looking up at him with a teasing grin, “You old fart.”
“Shut up,” Alec says fondly. He presses a kiss on her head because it’s hard not to when she looks so young. “Thank you. Where’s Simon?”
Izzy laughs. “Bathroom.”
“Typical,” Jace smirks.
“Alec!” Clary exclaims, taking Izzy’s place in his arms, “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks, Clary,” Alec smiles, “And how long were you in on this?”
“Too long,” Clary sighs, “I was in charge of the guest list.”
Alec looks around, surprised at the volume of friends and family within the spacious hall.
“Don’t worry,” Clary whispers knowingly, “I didn’t invite the Pearlhearts.”
Alec squeezes Clary’s shoulder in gratitude. “Good.”
Alec finally makes his way through the crowd. He smiles at his guests, shaking the hands of those he recognizes and embracing those who he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Maia, who is with Izzy and Simon, gives Alec a kiss on the cheek when he gets close enough. She apologizes for not being able to stay for long; alpha business, she says. Aline and Helen, who now oversees the entirety of the European Institutes as Idris delegates to Europe, have portalled in from Switzerland for the occasion. Lydia waves at Alec from where she and Catarina are chatting. Alec hasn’t seen them both in so long. Catarina spent years with Nursing Without Borders in typhoon-ravaged parts of South East Asia, while Lydia, who elected to leave Shadowhunter politics entirely, is now an educator in Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.
It’s an overwhelming sight to see, but in a good way.
Inevitably, Alec’s gaze is caught by the soft tangle flowers that spread over the ceiling. Yellow blooms dangle over their heads, surrounded by lush foliage of leaves and dotted with twinkling lights. It speaks of Magnus’ meticulous design.
Alec walks along the sprawling, intricately set table, his steps calm but quick. Everything thrums of Magnus’ intricate handiwork, from the table settings to the sprigs of rosemary and sage pinned onto the folded napkin. Like a treasure at the end of a rainbow, he finds his family at the table’s end. They wait for him patiently.
I love them, Alec thinks, just because.
“Small dinner?” Alec laughs as he corrals his two boys into his arms, “I raised liars!”
“It’s all dad’s idea! We did it under duress,” Max grins with a kiss to Alec’s cheek, “Happy birthday, dad.”
“Happy birthday, dad,” Rafe greets with a smile, his arm winding around Alec’s back.
“Thank you,” Alec murmurs, his palms brushing against his sons’ shoulders. They both slip out of his embrace as if in anticipation. They stand by Alec’s side, watching affectionately as Alec finally finds his husband’s gaze.
“Well?” Alec asks mirthfully. Magnus, looking as beautiful as ever, saunters towards Alec with a teasing smile on his lips. Alec’s hand rests onto Magnus’ hip as he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“It’s your birthday, darling,” Magus grins, “I should be asking you that.”
Kiss him, someone from the back howls – no doubt Jace – and if there’s anything Jace can do with the utmost skill, it’s riling people up. Magnus and Alec’s spectators hoot and clap as if it’s the reception to their wedding and not a birthday. It’s Max and Rafe’s defeated sighs that make Alec want to sweep Magnus off his feet and into his arms for maximum carnage.
Alec rolls his eyes instead, visibly fighting a smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”
Magnus raises a brow. “So you won’t kiss your husband of more than twenty years?”
“Now, now, I didn’t say that,” Alec hums as he guides Magnus into his arms and grinning into a chaste kiss that they waste no time sharing. Magnus laughs as the crowd around them swells with applause, and finally, he wraps Alec into a comfortable embrace.
“Happy birthday, Alexander,” Magnus says.
Alec kisses the shoulder of Magnus’ jacket. “Thank you, Magnus,” he murmurs, “I love you.”
Magnus kisses his I love you too onto Alec’s cheek as he peels himself out of Alec’s arms.
“Dinner first, dancing later!” Magnus calls out, and with a graceful flick of the wrist, the table is magicked with fancy food from end to end.
As their guests happily settle into their seats, Alec whispers, “Dancing?”
“Don’t make excuses because I won’t take them,” Magnus says with a tone of finality.
Alec laughs. He’s learned a lot in the past twenty or so years.
“Wasn’t gonna,” Alec whispers.
Alec takes a flute of champagne from one of the servers and takes a sip. From the head of the table, he sees every person who has mattered to him in the entirety of his life.
“Darling,” Magnus says, tugging at his hand.
Alec smiles. “Coming.”
Magnus laughs as he is swept off his feet and into Alec’s arms. He locks his legs around Alec’s torso, his ankles hooking against each other as Alec kisses a trail down his neck. Magnus is pressed against the wall of their foyer, gasping as Alec’s teeth sink softly into his skin.
It has been three minutes since Alec and Magnus closed the door behind their youngest who had just moved out.
Magnus grins as he lazily rolls his hips against Alec’s. “If I knew an empty nest turned you on this much,” he teases, “I would’ve kicked Max out a long time ago.”
“Liar,” Alec laughs, fumbling with the clasp of Magnus’ intricate vintage belt, “You would’ve kept at least one of them here five more years if you had it your way.”
“I’m a softie, Alexander,” Magnus whines. His head butts back onto the wall as Alec outlines Magnus’ cock through his underwear. “Fuck.. Let me down, darling..”
Alec lets Magnus dismount, and with one snap of Magnus’ fingers, he is naked under Alec’s touch. Alec sighs blissfully as he takes Magnus’ lips back against his, tongue licking into Magnus’ mouth, fingernails scratching lines over smooth skin. Magnus doesn’t magic away Alec’s clothes; he has always found satisfaction in peeling every layer with his own hands. It’s a pleasure he indulges in no matter how strung tight they both are.
Alec kneels, ignoring the ache it brings as his knees kiss the wooden floor. Instead, he loses himself in pressing his mouth and lapping his tongue over every inch of skin he meets on his way down. Magnus’ body, untouched by time, undulates under Alec’s hands. Alec pins Magnus’ hips against the wall, a silent command that brings a haze of pleasure over Magnus’ eyes. Alec springs Magnus’ cock from his underwear, lips gently dragging over the sensitive nerve endings at the head.
“Alexander,” Magnus nearly pleads, his fingers threading through Alec’s salt-and-pepper hair.
“Patience,” Alec murmurs, to which Magnus huffs no. Alec chuckles, barely kissing the crown of Magnus’ cock in admonishment.
“If you don’t fuck me now –” Magnus’ threat crumbles on the tip of his tongue as Alec sinks down onto his cock with no preamble. His words escape him in a full-body shudder.
“Alexander, fuck,” Magnus gasps, watching as Alec languidly drags the warmth of his mouth back onto the head of Magnus’ cock before engulfing it again down to the hilt. Magnus clips a leg over Alec’s shoulder, drawing him even closer.
The fixture above their heads casts a brightness over their fucking like a spotlight onto a painting. Magnus’ moans hang in the air as Alec sucks him off with a skill that came to fruition after years of repetition. Every crest Magnus hits with every brush of Alec’s lips and every stroke of Alec’s tongue is its own masterpiece to behold. Just as Magnus knows every arthritic swell on Alec’s bones, Alec knows all the ways Magnus’ body likes to be praised. Alec kisses Magnus’ shaft and gently presses a thumb against Magnus’ hole. By the time Alec has palmed Magnus’ tightened sac, Magnus is already fucking into his mouth uncontrollably.
“Yes, darling, just like that,” Magnus whispers, urgently rutting into the wet heat of Alec’s mouth, “Look at you.. Just as beautiful as the day I first saw you..”
Surprising wetness lines Alec’s eyes, growing heavily at the corners.
Magnus’ breath hitches, his muscles clenching and unclenching as his orgasm builds with turbulence that makes the rhythm of his fucking falter. “I could find you in a crowded room, Alexander,” he says, “I could find you even if you were a dot in the universe.”
Alec palms his own cock as he blinks away tears that cling onto his lashes. He could feel the pads of Magnus’ fingers pressed against his scalp as if his nerves have taken hold of the sensation and refuse to let go.
“I’m gonna come,” Magnus gasps. Alec nods, his other hand gripping the firm muscle of Magnus’ ass.
Magnus hits his crest with Alec’s name on his tongue. He curls over Alec with Alec’s head cradled within his arms, a near recreation of the golden embrace of a Gustav Klimt. Magnus breathes deeply, pressing his lips against Alec’s hair as Alec releases Magnus’ spent cock. Alec swallows the spunk that sits on his tongue, and it tastes like the Magnus he knows and loves.
Magnus tips Alec’s chin to meet his gaze. He asks softly, “Have I made you cry?”
Alec sniffs, joking, “What’s new?” He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“I didn’t mean to,” Magnus murmurs, “I love you.”
Alec kisses Magnus; deeply, longingly. He rises to his feet. “I know,” he says when he pulls away, “Of course I know.”
“Let’s go to the bed,” Magnus says cheekily, “Your turn.”
Alec shakes his head, pressing his palm against Magnus’ jaw. “I didn’t take my pill,” he murmurs, “I think that’s it for me tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Magnus leans into Alec’s touch, “No apologies, remember?”
Magnus walks backward towards their bedroom, pulling Alec by the hand. Alec lets himself be led into the bedroom and out of his remaining clothes.
“Besides,” Magnus winks, “You know I love a challenge.”
Alec rolls his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he wanted to.
“Dad can’t be hot,” Max protests, “He’s dad.”
Magnus laughs, limbs all loose, his head tossed back. Alec snorts as he takes the martini glass from Magnus’ hand before the contents find themselves all over Magnus’ trousers. The family sits in a loose circle at the end of the table; Jace, Clary, Simon, and Izzy had all pulled their chairs closer fifteen minutes ago. The rest of their guests have elected to fill the dancefloor.
“Your father wasn’t always the silver fox that he is now,” Magnus says, “You were too young to remember. Rafe does though, right?”
Rafe nods. “Dad’s right,” he says, hands up in the air in defeat, “Dad was pretty good looking.”
Alec raises a brow at his eldest. “Excuse me? Was?”
“Gross Rafe,” Max exclaims, “Take it back! I don’t want that idea in my brain!”
“Look, I’m not one to compliment the guy,” Jace says, “But Alec was a total looker. Not as much as I was, but a close second.”
Clary giggles into her drink, mumbling under her breath. It sounded something along the lines of pretty boy, to which Jace gives her a snickering shh. Izzy, however, has already caught it with her ridiculously acute hearing.
“Oh my god,” Izzy says, “Pretty boy.”
Magnus laughs again, eyes scrunched close as he leans his head against the bulk of Alec’s shoulder. Alec grins into Magnus’ martini as he takes a sip.
“What’s pretty boy?” Rafe asks.
Izzy bounces on her seat with excitement.
“Easy,” Simon laughs, but Izzy still delves into the story with the same high-level gusto.
“The first time your dads met, we were in the middle of some kind of mission.”
“Unsanctioned, by the way,” Alec points out, which causes the circle to boo him mercilessly. He snickers, taking another sip from Magnus’ drink.
“There was so much flirting,” Izzy groans, fingers pressed into her temples, “An insane amount.”
“Ugh, what’s new?” Max asks, which earns him a pinch in the side from Magnus.
“Kids, this is how your dad,” Izzy looks pointedly at Magnus and then at Alec, “Reeled in your dad.”
Everybody else watches in anticipation, grinning from ear to ear while Magnus and Alec curl into each other comfortably.
“We needed to summon a memory demon that night. So your dad goes,” Izzy then says in her best impersonation of Magnus, “Pretty boy, get your team ready.”
Magnus looks impressed.
Izzy continues. “And your Uncle Jace, because he thinks the entire world wants to sleep with him, goes I know what to do, like an idiot.”
Clary giggles even louder, hiding her eyes behind her hand. Jace, pink in the face at the memory, cringes. He receives a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Simon.
“But then your dad rolls his eyes, holds out his hand, and says, I’m not talking you,” Izzy continues, her own arm barricading Simon by the chest, who affectionately squeezes her wrist. Grinning, she gracefully points a finger towards Alec’s direction, the perfect imitation of Magnus’ gesture.
“I’m talking to you.”
The circle howls, bursting into applause as if they just sealed yet another rift from yet another circle of hell. Magnus collapses against Alec, completely bereft of air as laughter consumes him from head to toe. Alec snickers, hand smoothing the fabric of Magnus’ jacket.
“I still hate that I wasn’t there for that,” Simon sighs.
“God, dad’s got game,” Max says, appalled, “By the damn angel.”
“It’s only good if it actually worked,” Rafe corrects, turning to Izzy, “Aunt Iz, what happened next?”
Izzy melts, pressing her hands to her heart. “Oh, Rafe. Your dad had the biggest, softest smile. I hadn’t seen him smile like that, ever.”
She turns to Magnus and Alec, eyes glassy. “It’s the smile of someone who finally felt seen.”
The corner of Alec’s mouth quirks upwards. Magnus burrows deeper into the crook of Alec’s neck, a reminiscent smile curling the edges of his lips. Magnus touches his temple with two fingers, and with a flash of magic, he plucks a memory from his mind.
He presents it to Alec.
“You looked beautiful, love,” Magnus says, threading his fingers against Alec’s. “So beautiful.”
Alec smudges something invisible on the surface of the photograph. He sees his younger self look up at him as if to ask, why are you so happy?
Just you wait, Alec thinks, you haven’t seen nothing yet.
Rafe and Max take the photo, looking at it with absolute wonder. Izzy’s hand finds her trembling mouth, and Clary holds Izzy’s hand soothingly. Magnus presses a kiss onto Alec’s lips.
“Love you,” Magnus says.
Fondly, Alec answers, “Love you too.”
Alec, with his head thrown back in mid-laugh, is watching Magnus spin Izzy on the dancefloor when someone offers him a well-manicured hand.
“Care to dance, Consul Lightwood?”
Alec abruptly looks up, mildly surprised, until he realizes who he’s talking to. He rolls his eyes, ones that dance with mirth at the sight of an old friend.
Alec smirks. “Told you not to call me that, Professor Branwell.”
“Touché,” Lydia laughs. She motions her outstretched hand towards Alec again. “Well? Are you going to keep a lady waiting?”
“You don’t get to dip me, Branwell,” Alec jokes as he rises to his feet.
Lydia snorts. “Don’t worry, Lightwood,” she says, “I know you’re too old to bend your spine more than forty-five degrees.”
“Speaking from experience, I see,” Alec quips, which rewards him a teasing elbow in the side.
Alec moves them deeper into the dancefloor in a little a maneuver he learned from many nights in small, dimly-lit Cuban salsa clubs with Magnus and Izzy. Lydia is impressed as she steps into Alec’s arms with easy grace. With Alec’s hand on Lydia’s waist and hers on his shoulder, they sway to the music’s languid tempo.
“I heard you can add ‘professor’ to your long list of achievements,” Lydia teases, “Alicante’s Shadowhunter trainees just can’t seem to stop gushing over you.”
Alec schools the grin on his mouth. “Are they, now?”
“Oh, please,” Lydia accuses with a laugh, “You so like it!”
Alec chuckles, “It’s just a couple of guest lectures.” He leans in, whispering, “Admittedly, it is a bit of an ego boost.”
“Oh, it’s absolute confidence fuel,” Lydia agrees. She smiles up at Alec, looking at him like she can’t believe how much time has passed since their last meeting.
“How are you?” she asks, and coming from her, it’s a loaded question.
Alec and Lydia know each other in such a distinct, irreplicable manner, one that stems from their commonalities as people and their shared experiences. It’s a special understanding that even Magnus can’t duplicate, and that understanding steadily grew into friendship. Alec and Magnus were even guests at Lydia’s wedding to her recently late husband.
“I’m okay, Lyds. You?” Alec asks gently, “It’s been way too long.”
Lydia presses her lips together in a small, sad smile. “It has been,” she says, “I needed some time to be alone for a while. Far away.”
Alec’s hand squeezes comfortingly against Lydia’s. “Did you find some peace?”
“Found some in the English countryside,” Lydia chuckles, “Farm animals are oddly therapeutic.”
“That’s where you’ve been?” Alec asks in disbelief, “By the angel, I was asking them to check as far as Jaipur!”
Lydia laughs fully now. “You didn’t have to keep tabs on me, you loon.”
“Of course I had to,” Alec mumbles, “How can I not?”
Lydia places a hand to her heart. “Well, I’m touched. To think that this friendship started from our aborted wedding – who would’ve thought?”
The memory makes Alec cringe. “Oh, god,” he begs, “Please don’t remind me.”
Lydia giggles. “What, that you left me at the altar to make out with the love of your life?”
“Enough,” Alec groans.
“Not quite the right tone,” Lydia teases, “Less whiney, more commanding. Like you’re about to stick it to your parents.”
“You’re impossible,” Alec complains, and Lydia throws her head back in laughter. Magnus catches Alec’s eyes from across the dancefloor, exquisitely amused, and Alec rolls his eyes in fond resignation.
Lydia sighs. “Do you ever wonder where we would all be if Magnus didn’t storm into that chapel that night?”
The mere notion makes Alec think. “I don’t know,” he admits.
“By the angel, Alec,” Lydia says in disbelief, “Would you have actually married me?”
Alec raises a brow at her. “Would you?”
Lydia presses her lips together. “I don’t know. It all made sense in our heads back then. It seemed like a plausible idea.” She shakes her head. “That’s terrifying. To know that even the most rational thing could still be wrong.”
Alec casts her a mildly cautious gaze. “Is that why you left politics for education?”
Lydia angles her head in thought. “That, and more.”
Alec doesn’t know what these other reasons are. Knowing Lydia, if she hasn’t told him yet, she never will.
His expertise of Lydia as a person came to him late. It took three years into his and Magnus’ marriage for her to be reintegrated back into their lives. The day Lydia handed in her resignation from her Council position to pursue a career in education was the day she became a steady fixture in his life. Alec regrets letting an exorbitant amount of time pass before they became friends.
“Was there something I could’ve done that would’ve made you stay?” Alec asks.
Lydia knows exactly what he means to ask. Did I not do enough as Consul? As a friend?
“Oh, Alec,” she says, “I would’ve left either way. Despite all the great work you've done and still do.”
Alec exhales. “It’s hard to feel that way nowadays,” he mutters, “Not with the Pearlhearts and their constituents blocking my every move.”
“Screw the Pearlhearts,” Lydia says bluntly, and Alec laughs. “Do you even remember the things you’ve done the past fifteen years as Consul?”
Alec doesn’t. Everything has been a blur.
“Let me remind you that you were handed a Shadow World that was burning when you took the office,” Lydia says, “Iterations of The Circle persisting everywhere you look, mutinies from the Europen vampire clans, power plays from the new Seelie Queen. You put out all these fires within three years of your leadership because unlike every other Consul that came before you, you were the first to have the Downworld’s trust. Trust that you built not as an afterthought, but as the cornerstone of your consulship. Your cabinet was used as the blueprint for fostering transparency between Institutes and the Downworld all over the world.”
“I can’t take credit for that,” Alec says, “I was only one piece on that intricate chessboard.”
“And the changes you instituted after?” Lydia asks, “You restructured the entire government system to focus on service, not control. You reformed the council to integrate Downworld representatives, and most importantly, you dismantled The Gard and its ancient doctrines that center on maximum brutality. ”
“I had a lot of help,” Alec says.
“The thing is, Alec,” Lydia says, “Someone had to start. Someone actually had to care enough to ask for help in the first place.”
Alec has forgotten how good of a speaker Lydia is. He would mourn the loss of such a great political comrade if he isn't so busy celebrating the achievement of having an exquisite educator within the walls of Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.
Lydia is somber when she speaks again. “The Clave will never outlive the evils of its past. But this work, from the big battles to the small, from the demons we slay to the late nights you spend poring over documents.. it’s change. Small, tedious, continuous change.”
Lydia presses a warm hand against Alec’s cheek, just like she did at the altar when she gave him her blessing to go. “The one thing I do regret about leaving Clave politics is not being by your side as you changed it for the better.”
Alec smiles into Lydia’s palm. “Thank you, Lyds.”
“Anytime,” Lydia answers, her hand slipping back onto Alec’s shoulder. She pauses momentarily before adding, “I met Henry because of you, did you know?”
Alec raises a brow, curious. “Me?”
“By opening Idris to the Down World,” she says, a reminiscent smile on her lips, “He was on his way to applying to be a werewolf mission specialist when I bumped into him on my way back from handing in my resignation. Whatever amount of time we had with each other – our walks through Brocelind, our dates by Lake Lynn, our wedding in Alicante.. we owe it to you.”
“Well,” Alec says, “I’m glad that I helped.”
Lydia looks up at him, her head shaking in wonder. “Where did you get the will to do all that, Alec?” she asks, “For whom were you changing the whole world?”
From afar, Alec hears an unmistakable laugh, one he knows the sound of as it echoes from across the room or rumbling sleepily against the shell of his ear.
Alec smiles.
“Blue, no flying! Mijito, don’t you run away with your brother!”
Alec laughs as he watches Magnus run across the grass in pursuit of their two boys. Max, in his bat form, flaps away with his older brother giggling behind him in a chase that would have ended a long time ago if Magnus simply magicked on a pair of sneakers.
I don’t do active-wear, Alexander, Magnus had scoffed with an offended look on his face, Not in public!
So, Alec sits back on the picnic blanket, legs kicked out. He contentedly digests his afternoon snack under the same tree that he sat under as a child when he wants a moment to himself. The green hills that overlook the entirety of Alicante sprawl before him, the view only made better by his family running across the grass.
The memories that accompany this spot weren’t always happy.
He once hated himself under this tree. He asked all the divinities in the universe if how he is – who he is – is wrong. He climbed the bark, walking the branches like a tightrope and dangling from it for hours, punishing his muscles and tendons for the missed shots and longing thoughts. He stood over many cliff-edges under this tree, ones he had to talk himself off of because no one else would.
He remembers choking on his sobs under this tree. He remembers wondering for how long he could do all of this, and if he was doomed to such misery until his bones turned to dust.
From afar, Magnus throws his hands in the air in surrender. Max flaps circles around his head in jest while Rafe jogs circles around Magnus’ feet. Magnus, with a great, heavy sigh, snaps his fingers. Sparkly runners replace his fancy dress shoes, and Alec finally tips over in unabashed laughter. Magnus notices this, mouth falling open in disbelief, and in an act of pure vengeance, sics their children onto Alec. Alec realizes the velocity of Max and Rafe’s approach too late.
Alec lets out a low, pained groan, clutching his stomach as Rafe tumbles into him, all sharp elbows. Max flaps his wings across Alec’s forehead, displacing his hair all over and tapping Alec in the face.
“I deserved that,” Alec breathes out as Magnus topples onto the spot beside him.
Magnus laughs. “Yes, you do.” He collapses onto the blanket, exhausted. “You run after them this time! See if you’re still laughing by the end of it!”
“Fine,” Alec says before turning to their children. “Who wants to do cartwheels?”
Max erupts in a puff of gold, plopping onto Alec’s lap with a shrill meee, accompanied by Rafe’s monstrous shout of excitement. Alec scoops both in his arms and runs, leaving shrieks of happiness in their wake. Magnus’ laugh carries beautifully from where he is sprawled under Alec’s tree.
Alec’s tree isn’t much of just Alec’s tree anymore.
Alec opens presents.
Jace and Clary gift Alec with a quiver of special arrows, a set of ten crafted by the Iron Sisters themselves. Vessels within the arrowheads were made to hold Magnus’ magic within its core. It is common knowledge that every single weapon in the Consul’s personal arsenal is imbued with electric blues and golden yellows. Like urban legend, it is whispered among throngs of young Shadowhunters that seeing the Lightwood-Banes in battle is like watching a roiling thunderstorm – it’s a kind of devastation from which you cannot look away.
Izzy and Simon’s gift is a rare tome they tracked down in a small European town called Arnis. It dates back to the years of the first community Shadowhunters that took root in New York, and how it ended up in rural Germany, nobody truly knows. Alec leafs through some pages and already found references to their early ancestors. My, my, Adette, Magnus murmurs, his chin propped against Alec’s shoulder. Alec hums in agreement; Adette Lightwood’s a looker.
The remaining presents sit on a hill on Alec’s left, and he is left to apologize to his guests. He promises to open them all at home, joking that the New York Institute probably needs their space back. He is presented with one last gift to open, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take in his hands.
“Here, dad,” Rafe says, handing Alec a small envelope.
Max offers a disclaimer. “This is last minute,” he says, “We were gonna give you something dumb.”
Alec hooks a finger into the envelope and rips it open. Within it, he pulls out two photographs. Alec looks at both of them with wonder.
One is slightly hazy. It bears the image of a man looking down at the camera, and even with the blurriness of it, Alec could see the smile spreads across his face. The other photograph, clearer than the first, unmistakably bears Alec’s likeness. It looks like a picture taken from behind a wooden cart of some kind as if the photographer was peeking from a hiding spot. Alec is squinting under the brightness of the sun, donned in battle-wear with an arrow drawn. He stands side-by-side with Lily Chen, the current head of the New York Vampire Clan.
Alec looks up in realization. “This is Buenos Aires. And this..”
Max shrugs. “Mine’s a bit faint, but I was a baby. Now you have all three of ours.”
Rafe smiles, reminiscing. “It’s our first memories of you, Dad.”
Magnus looks at Max. “When did you learn how to do this, Blue?”
“What, like it’s hard?” Max grins, “Figured it out from when you did it earlier.”
“You okay, dad?” Rafe asks.
Alec brushes his fingers over his nose, sniffing. He blinks furiously down at his hands, ones that hold memories of himself through the eyes of his family. They feel heavier than paper, weighted with love and gratitude built over time. He feels Rafe’s hand on his back and Max’s chin on his shoulder.
“You changed our lives, Dad,” Max murmurs, “Thank you for that.”
Alec gingerly rises to his feet, pulling his sons into his arms. He reaches out for Magnus’ hand, gripping it tightly within his. Magnus thumbs the tears from Alec’s eyes. His touch lingers on the lines at its corners.
The photographs don’t leave Alec’s hands the entire night.
“Don’t, Alexander,” Magnus commands through teary eyes and gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare.”
Alec stumbles, taken aback. He watches as Magnus strides away from him, his hands curled into fists. Alec follows suit with long loping steps across their living room.
“Magnus,” Alec calls out, confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Magnus turns to Alec, his gaze accusing. “You don’t want immortality. You never have, Alexander, so why are you asking for it now?”
“Despite popular belief, Magnus,” Alec grits out, his tone acidic, “People’s minds do change.”
Magnus scoffs. “And what a lovely coincidence that it changed right after Izzy chose to turn.”
Alec blinks in disbelief. “Why does it matter – why are you picking a fight?!” he asks, voice rising, “Do you think I’m lying? Is this what this is?”
Magnus spins on his heels, angrily busying himself with reshelving the open tomes that lay on his desk. “Typical Nephilim,” he mutters, “No insight, whatsoever.”
“Hey, if you’re itching for an argument, at least have the decency to at least look at me,” Alec demands, “Or at least tell me what the fuck I did wrong by telling you I want to spend an eternity with you!”
“You get to pick, Alexander!” Magnus shouts.
“How can you fault me for having a choice?” Alec yells, “You don’t want me forever, is that it? You’ll move on the moment I hit the ground?”
Pain twists Magnus’ face as he whispers hollowly, “How can you even say that?”
Alec shakes his head, lost. His hands falter to his sides. “Then what is it?” he asks, “Why won’t you want me for more years than I can give?”
Magnus falls silent. He too shakes his head as he leans onto the bookshelf. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Alec’s gaze is pleading when Magnus finally meets it.
“Two years ago, we got married,” Magnus says, “Do you know what I dream of since then?”
Alec, despite knowing the question doesn’t need an answer, replies, “Tell me.”
“I dream of us in five hundred years,” Magnus says. He wraps his arms around himself.
“We’re in Budapest, watching a particularly beautiful sunrise,” he murmurs, “Or in Paris, recreating our honeymoon. Or in Indonesia, by the beach, with everyone ogling you. I get to glare them all away.”
Alec closes his eyes momentarily. He almost smiles.
Magnus sounds broken when he speaks again. “But then I remember what that means. It means you’ve watched your family die. Everybody that is precious to you, you’ve outlived. You’ve buried your mother, your father, your siblings, your future children. You’re now burdened with sorrow your shoulders weren’t built to carry.”
Alec steadily cuts away the distance between him and Magnus. Rivulets roll down Magnus’ cheek as he stubbornly wipes them away.
Magnus sniffs and then exhales. “I know you love me very much, Alexander, but you don’t love me blindly,” he says, head shaking, “And I don’t want you to. I’ve made peace with my impending solitude a long time ago.”
“Magnus,” Alec reaches for him, but Magnus shakes his head again, openly weeping now. Magnus holds his hands out before him; he keeps Alec at bay like it’s his final line of defense.
“I’ve accepted it,” Magnus says shakily, “So please don’t tell me you want to be with me forever as if you’ve thought about it for a split-second, not when this thought has plagued me for hundreds of years –” Magnus’ breath hitches, “I can’t have false hopes, Alexander, please –”
Alec pulls Magnus into his arms and there, the earth finally collapses under them both. Magnus sobs unapologetically within the tight cradle of Alec's arms as Alec wipes the tears from his own face. Growing wetness seeps through the shoulder of his shirt. He presses his mouth against the side Magnus’ head, murmuring his quiet apologies and declarations of love. They hold onto each other like hands clasped in prayer.
Alec ushers them both to bed. Alec takes off Magnus’ shoes and socks, and Magnus, exhausted beyond measure, curls into Alec and closes his tired eyes. They shelve whatever they have to say to each other for the morning. The sleep they fall into is deep but restless.
Alec wakes up to the sensation of bare feet against his.
“Sorry,” Magnus whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” Alec mumbles. He yawns, blinking himself to full consciousness. When he settles, he asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Dismal,” Magnus admits, “I'm sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Alec mutters, brow furrowed so early in the morning, “I didn’t think of it that way. I hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” Magnus says, fingers to Alec’s cheek, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Alec exhales as he threads his fingers against Magnus. “Do you really think me being with you is an afterthought?”
Magnus’ smile is pained when he imparts it. His fingers tighten against Alec’s. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”
Alec shakes his head. “You will never be an afterthought,” he says, “How can you be when you’re all I think of? Our past, present, and future. You're my stream of consciousness.”
Magnus murmurs fondly, “Sweet.”
Alec chuckles. “Unsurprisingly, I hope.”
Magnus presses into his husband, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Alec palms Magnus’ cheek gently.
When they falter apart, Alec says, “I still think some things are lightbulb moments.. But I promise to think about it.”
Magnus nods. “Okay.”
Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.
“Okay.”
Alec leans over the balcony of the New York Institute, fingers twined around his glass.
Below him is a meticulously kept courtyard with an aged oak standing proudly in its center. He sees Helen and Aline sitting in one of the stone benches, looking up at the tree’s encompassing foliage. Behind him, Magnus and Max are magically sweeping away the remnants of Alec’s fiftieth birthday party.
“Nightcap?” Izzy asks as she settles beside Alec.
Alec takes a gulp from his glass. “Just water,” he says with humor, “Some of us actually have to think about our livers.”
Izzy laughs. She spins on her heels, her back pressed against the stone railing. “I’m not gonna lie, I miss drinking actual alcohol.”
Alec cringes. “Is it the viscosity?”
“Yes,” Izzy gushes, “Plasma’s a party starter, but by the angel. It’s like chugging molasses.”
“God, I didn’t need to hear that,” Alec groans. He finishes off his glass of water.
Izzy smiles at Alec, peering into his eyes. She looks so young, Alec thinks. She still looks like the little sister he would sacrifice everything for.
“Did you have fun, Alec?” she asks, but he knows what she means. Are you happy?
“Yes. I thought it was going to be a lot harder,” Alec admits. Below them, Aline leans her head onto Helen’s shoulder. The gray of their hair shines under the moonlight.
“It’s because you’re brave, Alec,” Izzy says, “To choose this for yourself and for Magnus – it’s exceptionally brave.”
“I would argue it makes me a coward,” Alec answers matter-of-factly, straightening, “I’m not brave enough to watch everyone I love die.”
Izzy actually laughs. She shakes her head. “Alec, I chose immortality because I was scared.”
Alec watches as Izzy sighs, her head tipped back in thought. “I couldn’t bear the thought of growing old while Simon’s body stayed in stasis,” she mutters, “I think of the things I will miss, moments that I won’t get to experience with the person that I love – and it’s like I couldn’t breathe.”
She sighs. “We’re all differently but just as equally scared. And it really never goes away.”
Alec turns his glass within his palms. “Does Simon know this?” he asks.
Izzy nods. “Simon knows,” she says, “Mammoth things like immortality.. the only way to make it easier to bear is if you parse through it with brutal honesty.”
Izzy turns to Alec. With her fingers curled around his arms, she murmurs, “I know it brought you a lot of unspoken grief when I decided to turn, and not just because of the obvious reasons. It was supposed to be your thing, the immortality debacle.”
Alec shakes his head. “Look, Iz, I don’t get to monopolize problems –”
“No, Alec,” Izzy presses, her grip tightening, “You and Magnus were figuring it out. My hasty decision threw a wrench in the works, I know it. I’m so sorry.”
Alec’s mouth quirks at one corner. He squeezes Izzy’s hand affectionately. “Don’t be,” he says gently, “Magnus has five hundred years in his back pocket and I’m stubborn. Our experience with immortality was always going to be different.”
“You could’ve started early,” Izzy mourns, “You could’ve been younger.”
Alec looks down onto the courtyard again, smiling. “I don’t care about that anymore.”
Izzy has always had the special skill of knowing exactly what Alec means. She looks at him, eyes soft.
“When did you know you wanted to turn for Simon?” Alec asks simply. Izzy’s gaze turns calculating, which he decides to dispel right away. “I’m just curious.”
Izzy presses her lips together in thought. “It just.. happened,” she says, “A lightbulb moment.”
Alec smiles.
“You don’t say.”
“Be safe,” Magnus says, pressing kisses onto Max and Rafe’s cheeks, “Call frequently.”
Rafe pins Magnus against him in a brief embrace. “Will do.”
“Max, no more unnecessary magic,” Magnus warns, “If I get another call from the head of the Paris Institute –”
“Okay, okay, I promise,” Max sighs before blurting out, “Rafe went on an unsanctioned mission in Barcelona, by the way.”
Rafe scrambles to grab anything of Max, only to snatch a handful of air. “You little –”
Magnus’ jaw grows slack. “Raphael, you did what?”
“Go,” Alec urges with a laugh, snaking an arm around Magnus’ waist, “I got it.”
Max whips up a portal so fast Alec swears he feels a gust of wind sweep through the apartment. The gateway winks out of existence alongside their boys.
Magnus moans, fingers pressed against his temples. “Your children will be the death of me.”
“So they’re only mine when they mess up?” Alec smirks. He plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek before pulling away. He pulls open a cabinet door and reaches for his pillbox before another bottle catches his attention.
Alec turns to Magnus, pill bottle in hand. “Did you plan birthday sex for me?” he bluntly asks, “Not that I’m demanding it, but if you are and you want my cock’s participation, I better take one of these now.”
Magnus chuckles. “Oh, I definitely planned birthday sex for you,” he drawls, “But you won’t be needing pharmaceutical help.”
Alec raises a brow. “You might want to adjust those expectations, Magnus. I just hit half a century, after all.”
Magnus’ cheeky grin is suddenly softened by hesitance, and for a moment, Alec worries. Alec places the bottle on the counter before taking a few tentative steps towards his husband.
“I’ve been working on this for the past year,” Magnus says, the pads of his fingers rubbing together just like it would in times of reluctance, “And last month, I finally figured out the right magic.”
Magnus fingers flutter in the air in an unsure gesture. “My gift is a memory,” he says, “One we can relive. It doesn’t meddle with time; it’s a projection of a recollection. Like a photograph pulled from my mind.”
Alec wonders why Magnus is so nervous about his gift; it sounds lovely.
“If you would have it,” Magnus hesitates, “You get to be young again for a night.”
Ah.
Alec gazes affectionately at Magnus as he stands before him, fiddling with his hands. It’s a fine line of a gift, Alec realizes, one that could clearly offend if given to the wrong person, in the wrong context. Alec could see how it could potentially hurt him.
But of course, it doesn’t. It’s Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest. He who knows every swollen knot in Alec’s body. The person who could hurt him most, but also love him best.
Alec dispels the distance between them. He reaches out, the pads of his fingers sinking into the well of Magnus’ palm.
With utmost affection, Alec says, “Show me.”
A relieved exhale leaves Magnus’ lips. With Alec’s hand in his, Magnus faces the empty expanse of their living room. He draws a circle in the air the same way he does when he creates portals, but instead of a golden swirl of magic, a tunnel of white light erupts before them. Magnus presses his fingers to his temples again, pulling another photograph from his mind. This one he throws into the brightness.
Magnus turns to Alec, his grip tightening. “Ready, darling?” he asks, but Alec knows he means are you sure?
“Lead the way,” Alec says, except he means with you, always.
They walk into the light.
It’s glaringly bright, Alec thinks.
The light feels like mist to Alec’s touch, the coolness brushing over his skin. It wafts over his face as the brightness swells around him even more, making him squint. Magnus is nothing but a faint silhouette before him as he drowns in the light of the magic he has summoned.
And then, it starts at his fingertips.
The temperature suddenly shifts, comfortably warm like a thermostat perfectly tuned to Alec’s preference. The more steps Alec takes, the farther the warmth spreads; up to his arms, to his shoulder, until it kisses the line of his jaw. The brightness dulls too; his eyes regain the image of Magnus walking backward as he leads him out of the portal and into this small fragment of his mind. Alec tightens his grasp and finds hardened callouses on the spots where office work has softened them. Alec’s arthritic joints are quiet where they would usually creak.
Alec finally emerges, his feet sinking into carpeting that feels familiar against the soles of his bare feet. His toes curl into the wool fibers.
Alec looks up at Magnus, who looks the same, but somehow inexplicably young. Behind him, Magnus is backdropped by golden sheets. Alec couldn’t help but toy at the necklaces that hang from Magnus’ neck in layers.
“Hi,” Magnus whispers.
When Alec speaks, his voice is strong. He gently tugs Magnus closer by the chain of his jewelry. “Hi,” he whispers back, “How do I look?”
“Like you haven’t aged a day,” Magnus jokes.
Alec chuckles, as if to say, funny. He turns to where he knows Magnus’ mirror stands, unsurprised by the young man that meets him. Instead, he beholds the image with affection. As much as he misses this Alec, he doesn’t envy him. This Alec has yet to experience the kinds of happiness he doesn’t even know he gets to have.
“Forgot I had these,” Alec mutters, looking down at himself as he smooths a hand over his abdomen. He peeks into his shirt and then laughs. “Magnus, your favorite part of my body’s back for a one-night encore.”
Magnus laughs too. He pulls Alec by the buckle of his belt. “Then we best not keep the audience waiting.”
With the gentle press of Magnus’ lips on his, Alec’s laugh settles to a small smile. Alec tries to lift his shirt from his body, but Magnus gently knocks Alec’s hands away as if to say that’s for me to do. Alec’s chuckle huffs out of his nose; two can play this game. He peels off Magnus’ pesky jacket, unearthing a black, form-fitting sweater that Alec still thinks about to this day.
Just like before, Alec still fumbles horribly with his pants, and Magnus still tries to catch his lips as he does. Magnus still laughs, and Alec still swallows the laughter from Magnus’ mouth with a kiss that shifts the earth under their feet.
Magnus puts them both to bed, nearly gymnastic, the way he does it. That was graceful.
Alec pulls the shirt of Magnus’ back, refusing to break their kiss until absolutely necessary. Shadowhunter.
Magnus draws away momentarily as he casts his shirt onto the floor. He gently rakes through the thick smattering of hair across Alec’s chest, now black instead of gray. Magnus’ touch lingers, and so does Alec’s thoughts.
Alec’s chest rises to meet Magnus’ mouth as he plants a kiss at the valley of Alec’s chest. Magnus thumbs a nipple before taking it gently between his teeth.
“Magnus,” Alec sighs.
Alec’s body sinks into the mattress as Magnus lavishes over the puckered bud. Alec cups Magnus’ neck, holding him in place, and there Magnus gladly stays. This was once Alec’s favorite things in bed, something time changed in the most unusual ways. Once-dull nerve endings muted by age jolts back to life with every nip of Magnus’ teeth and swirl of his tongue. Alec savors every bolt of warm electricity that crackles down his spine as if it’s something he won’t get to have tomorrow.
Magnus presses a final kiss on Alec’s chest before making his way down Alec’s body. He palms Alec’s cock through his unzipped trousers; he noses the shaft, outlining its shape.
Alec whispers, “Suck me off, Magnus. Please.”
“Of course, love,” Magnus says, hands working to release Alec’s cock from his underwear, “Anything you want. Everything.”
Alec’s hardness stands tall and proud with ease, hefty against Magnus’ palm. Magnus kisses Alec once at the base before dragging his lips up the shaft. Alec plays with the short buzz of hair in Magnus’ neck, entranced by the texture, and his grip tightens when Magnus mouths along the crown and finally engulfs Alec whole.
Alec swears the ceiling flushes pink. “Fuck, Magnus..”
Magnus relishes in coaxing every helpless moan and hitched whimper out of Alec’s lips. Every flick of the tongue, gulp of the throat, hollowing of the cheeks - Magnus sucks Alec’s cock in the ways he likes the most, gleaned from years and years of learning Alec down to his very bones. All Alec could do is watch through pleasure-hazed eyes and thick lashes as Magnus tells him, in yet another way, how much he is thoroughly known.
How much he is thoroughly loved.
Alec caresses Magnus’ cheek, thumb pressing onto the corner of Magnus’ stretched mouth. “You’re everything to me,” Alec whispers, rolling his hips gently as if to seek permission. Magnus thrums around Alec as he moans his enthusiastic yes.
Alec fucks into Magnus’ mouth ardently, his young body arching off the bed and into the warm tightness that is provided to him. This ageless body he wears feels old but new at the same time; it feels every undulation of Magnus’ tongue against his shaft, responds vigorously to Magnus’ every touch. Alec feels so absolutely himself but, at the same time, inexplicably not. Magnus reaches back and sinks lube-slicked fingers into his own ass, and seeing Magnus spread himself open before him with unfettered pleasure surprisingly moves Alec’s heart.
With a final roll of the hip, Alec gasps, planting both his palms against Magnus’ jaw. He quietly urges Magnus off him before he fully topples off the edge. Magnus crawls the length of Alec’s body, only stopping when Alec is within kissing distance again. With the press of Magnus’ tongue against his, Alec suddenly finds a profound ache blooming in his chest, beautiful but wistful. Dazed.
“Do you prefer me like this?” Alec murmurs, “Young?”
He asks the question with no malice. Nothing but a simple curiosity, and after twenty years of marriage, Magnus doesn’t misconstrue.
Magnus kisses the corner of Alec’s mouth. Straddling Alec’s hips, he answers, “I simply prefer you.”
Alec chuckles. “Sweet.”
The lopsided smile that grows on Alec’s mouth is short-lived as it is soon replaced by another shuddering exhale. Magnus palms Alec’s cock, thumbing the slit.
“You forget how utterly enraptured I am of you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, “Did you think that enchantment would simply go away with time?”
Alec’s breath hitches on his throat as he feels his cockhead kiss Magnus’ puckered ring. “Yes,” he admits.
Magnus caresses Alec’s cheek. “Oh, darling,” he says, his smile forlorn, “You’ve never been more wrong.” With that, he sinks down onto Alec’s cock.
“God,” Alec hisses as Magnus shudders a breathy moan as he inches himself down Alec’s length. Alec palms Magnus’ ass, kneading the firm muscle underneath.
“Darling, you feel divine,” Magnus gasps. He bottoms out, ass cheeks nestled into the nest of Alec’s pubic hair.
Alec scrambles for Magnus’ face, kissing him deeply. Magnus holds onto Alec’s wrists as he rocks forward, his hips curling commas in the air as he sets a steady pace for them both. Magnus fucks himself onto Alec’s cock with vigor that mirrors the adamancy of his words, every high whine and deep-seated groan presenting Alec with the eloquence Magnus, at the moment, does not have.
“God you feel so good,” Alec groans, fucking up into Magnus who rides him with equal urgency.
“Just like that, darling,” Magnus whimpers, eyes screwed shut as he presses their foreheads together, “Oh, angel, how I love you.. do you know that?”
I do, Alec thinks through the haze of his pleasure.
“Alexander,” Magnus whispers desperately, “I was so alone –”
Alec’s gaze blurs.
Magnus cradles Alec’s head, fingers curled tightly into his hair. “What a lonesome existence I had – until I met you.”
Alec breathlessly sits up, culling Magnus tightly within his arms as he ruts deeper and deeper. Their once steady rhythm becomes more volatile, their orgasms mercurial within their cores as it spits and bubbles like a mixture about to explode. The bed squeaks and groans under them.
Magnus’s body tightens against Alec’s as he throatily begs, “Oh, darling, don’t stop –”
Alec buries his face against the crook of Magnus’ neck, and if he embraces Magnus any tighter he might disappear within his grasp.
“Right there, right there, please – ”
They come together, Magnus untouched and gasping, Alec in a dizzying, blinding mixture of white-hot pleasure and unbridled happiness. His orgasm flushes through every winding vein, his muscles clenching and unclenching in an attempt to wring every droplet of pleasure out of his body. Magnus shudders around him in boneless satiation, thighs shaking around Alec’s hips. They breathe for what it feels like a long time. When Alec finally blinks up from Magnus’ neck, he is teary-eyed and breathless.
“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, breathless with affection, and he says it again just because. “I love you.”
Alec thumbs Magnus’ cheek.
“I love you too, Magnus,” he musters through the ache of his throat, “More than I could ever say. More than you could ever know.”
Magnus presses their foreheads together. “I know, darling,” he murmurs, “Don’t worry. I know.”
Alec doesn’t say anything as he buries Magnus into the mattress, fisting Magnus’ half-hard cock in his hand. Alec presses a sinking kiss into Magnus’ mouth, one that is telling of the things left unsaid.
They don’t leave the memory until the morning.
When Alec wakes up, Magnus is gazing at him, fingers combing through his scalp.
Alec shifts in bed, and when he does, his bones ache. His hand joins Magnus’ and finds grainy and fragile hair between the pads of his fingers. His skin wrinkles, and his body sags. The lines of his eyes are the most pronounced it’s ever been.
Despite all of it, Magnus still looks at him. Magnus, whose eyes see all and still chooses to gaze in earnest.
“There you are,” Magnus murmurs, full of affection.
Alec’s mouth quirks into a smile. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and holds Magnus’ wandering hand within his. Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.
“There you are.”