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☆☆☆☆☆
His lungs burn, feeling sulfur-like embers roll their way down his throat and into his chest cavity, making it expand outwards and push against all the invisible seams holding his flesh together. It aches in a way that’s not sustainable, but Magnus knows if he slows down even a fraction, he’ll regret it. His legs are similarly compromised, flames cascading in between them from his thighs down to his ankles, joints screaming in protest when he takes a corner too sharply, but there’s no refuge anywhere in sight. Two men in dark hoods are chasing after him, their steps echoing through every same street he traverses and growing stronger still, reminding him that death is very near –an ever-present possibility brushing up along his heels.
Maybe it had been naive of him to think he could ever enjoy a life of anonymity in the welcoming veil of New York City. After all, how many people who live here already haven't, at some point, claimed to be well-versed in witchcraft?
In hindsight, running an occult shop out of Brooklyn had probably been too on the nose, but Magnus has always been a firm believer of hiding in plain sight. A store full of new age crystals, charms, incense, and tiny Pagan statues –it’s nothing anyone would balk at, considering there’s practically one in every mall these days. In all likelihood, what really did him in was answering so many house calls to help heal the sick and beleaguered in his neighborhood.
The problem with being too good at his craft is that word travels fast. One set of parents whispers to another about ‘miracles’ until those words eventually find the ears of witch hunters who have some vague claim to the lineage of the ‘great’ Archbishop Johann von Schönenberg. They tell their buddies, they gather, they track him down, they chase him. It’s been like this since Magnus was a teenager, having to relocate so often that he hadn’t ever felt like he could settle down and call any one place home.
Which is too bad. He had really come to like Brooklyn over the years and all its many oddities. It had felt like a place where he could truly stretch his proverbial wings and find a welcoming and vibrant community of witches, one he now fears would be exposed were he to be caught. The other witches have also been on the run from hunters for most of their lives and had found their first real taste of safety in the city. If they gather in the park every Walpurgisnacht to drink, worship, and honor their fallen, no one even bats an eye. To the locals, they’re just another group of dancing long-haired goths having a party, same as every other weekend.
Magnus is already regretting he won’t be joining them again this year, but he tries to swallow down his disappointment and focus on simply living. With his magic low from their earlier battle and his body already pushed to its physical limits, it’s likely he’ll collapse sooner than later, but he doesn’t want to surrender and give them the satisfaction of carrying out whatever sick, twisted form of judgment is motivating them to slaughter innocent witches. He’d rather take himself out if that’s the case, though he does have one more trick up his sleeve.
It was supposed to be a last resort –a ‘break in case of emergency’ kind of potion, which he thinks this evening qualifies as. He had kept it hidden in his jacket whenever he’d make one of his late night house calls if only because he’d already dealt with enough run-ins with hunters in the past to know he should always have a back-up plan ready. The only thing that makes him hesitate now is that he doesn’t know how long it’ll last and if he can get himself to revert safely back to his normal body given the volatile nature of the potion. However, considering his only other option is encroaching death, he has no real choice, does he?
Magnus just has to time it right so he doesn’t end up being captured even faster. That means pushing his body just a little more, sprinting away just a little farther, to outrun the hunters by a few paces as he reaches into his pocket. His fingers circle around a small vial, glad it didn’t break during their earlier skirmish or he really would have been fucked.
The cork is tossed carelessly over his shoulder along with the last wisps of his magic, creating a literal smoke screen to buy him a few extra seconds. The hunters will likely clear it away quickly, but it grants Magnus just enough time to swallow down the entire contents of the vial, letting it simmer its way down his esophagus and into his stomach.
It doesn’t take long for his skin to start to prickle with static lines running across his flesh, leaving a trail of sparks flickering through his pores and needling their way deep into his bones. The sensation is both bizarre and pleasant, but Magnus tries not to let it distract him as he removes his jacket –tries not to focus on the fact that it’s Versace and expensive. How he does hate to part with his good clothes.
His vest comes off next and his dress shirt, the cold city air washing over naked flesh in a way that makes him want to shiver and curl up, but he doesn’t stop. The potion continues to drift its way down his body as its warming effects swim down his calves and around his feet until he starts to stumble and lose step. His whole body folds in on itself, fingers shaking as he continues to try and remove his belt then his pants. He doesn’t get to finish, his body shrinking too fast, leaving him as little more than a ball of fur shrouded by a pile of clothes.
The hunters reach the alleyway at precisely the same time his transformation spell finishes its chaotic trek through his entire body, and Magnus doesn’t have time to adjust to all the new senses –the new smells, new textures, new nocturnal-sight bombarding him. It’s all overwhelming and dizzying, leaving his head whirling fast as he sprints away in zig-zag patterns like he’s intoxicated. He’s also not accustomed to being down on all-fours outside of intimate situations, but he’s forcing his new joints to comply as he springs faster and faster away. He can hear the hunters cursing already and searching through his stripped clothing and jewelry, likely trying to figure out if he had made himself invisible.
The long shadows cast by the tall buildings around them and his fleet-footedness as a cat help him escape unnoticed as he presses up against one of the building’s walls for extra balance and heads towards the sounds of the nearest crowd. Given that it’s only about eleven o’clock at night, the streets are still filled with bustling activity, and the hunters likely won’t chase him where there are so many other humans in plain sight. They’re vicious, but they’re not stupid. It’s the best kind of protection Magnus can ask for at the moment as he weaves between human legs and struggles to get his vision to regain focus, gaze darting everywhere while fighting off the constant barrage of overstimulation.
Heels clicking distantly on the floor sound like they’re erupting right next to his eardrums, light perfume smells like he’d been dropped into a vat filled with flowers, and the street texture against his paws feels like chipped stones rubbing right up against his raw nerve endings. It all leaves him so entranced and overwhelmed that he barely notices the couple about to step right over him until one of them screeches at him in a pitch that makes him lurch backwards. His head then pushes between his paws as he silently wills her to stop.
“It’s a black cat! Get it away! Get it away!” the woman yells.
The man next to her steps up to his curled form, someone Magnus can only assume is her date or husband, and curses him out with an oh-so delightful “fucking cat” before kicking him hard in the side. The edge of his foot sends fresh pain bursting through Magnus’ rib cage, the sensation explosive and agonizing as Magnus reels off to the side. Another kick drives him further towards the street just as a cab barrels down towards him, its headlights blinding him quickly and numbing all his better survival instincts. Magnus has just enough time to freeze up and close his eyes, expecting the worst.
A worst that never comes.
When he re-opens his eyes he finds that not only has the cab not turned him into roadkill, but there’s also a heavy shadow covering him, one coming from a human body hovering protectively over him.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?!” The person –another man, he assumes, from the pleasantly deep voice– yells out towards the couple, “You could’ve gotten the cat killed!”
“It’s just a dumb cat,” the woman retorts before walking away, heels clicking loudly once more and amplifying the pounding sensation in Magnus’ head.
A soft sigh ruffles the top of Magnus’ fur before he feels two large hands scoop him up carefully, and suddenly, he’s being shrouded by a jacket that smells like faded aftershave, earth, sweat, and marinara sauce. It’s soothing in a way he can’t quite articulate to himself yet, and he can’t be bothered right now to fight the feline urge to nestle deeper into it, inhaling lungfuls of it into his body.
“Did you break anything?” The man asks him, his voice softening as he carefully feels along Magnus’ side.
His touch is unbearably warm, moving over his fur with heavy strokes and prodding along Magnus’ rib cage until his fingers reach the point of impact. That stirs Magnus out of his momentary reprieve, drawing a sharp hiss out of him because yes, yes it does hurt a lot. What kind of asshole kicks a cat?
“Sorry, sorry! Izzy can probably take a look at it. She’s in Pre-Med… why am I telling you this?”
It’s good to see that Magnus’ habit of talking to strays is a universal experience, though he never really had a doubt. Besides, the man’s voice is deeply pleasant, enough to inspire Magnus to poke his head out from inside his jacket to finally get a good look at him. Which is a terrible idea. A terrible, terrible idea. His valiant rescuer is nothing short of being perhaps the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, what with his strong jaw sporting an attractive five o’clock shadow, his dark, messy hair, and his captivating hazel eyes. Even from Magnus’ vantage point being held clutched to the stranger’s chest, he can tell the man has a nice, chiseled body, the kind that would convince anyone that he is actually a Greek sculpture brought to life like a male version of Galatea.
Were Magnus still bipedal and not covered in fur, he would not have hesitated to try and get the guy’s number, but fate is often a cruel and unkind mistress. Attractive people only ever show up when he’s indisposed. Maybe when he turns back, Magnus can track him down again and ask him for a date, though the how of that plan is still a complete mystery. He can’t even speak properly, so how is he supposed to even learn the stranger’s name, let alone where he lives?
A hand moves lightly over his head, blanketing every thought left in his head with endless white noise. Magnus’ ears flatten against his head as he starts to vibrate, feeling the beginnings of a purr rumble from inside his chest. Something that simple shouldn’t be so good, but it feels too much like heat and silk melting into his nerve endings –nerves which seem to have suddenly bundled together in concentrated colonies at the backs of his ears.
Against his better judgment, Magnus presses back against the man’s wandering fingers, feeling like he could get drunk on being touched alone. If he knew being pet felt this good, he would have spent every other weekend gallivanting as a cat instead of club-hopping with far too much gin and far too few inhibitions.
It’s so distracting that Magnus barely notices they’ve started moving. To where? –he can’t tell. He’d have assumed the man would have put him down somewhere quiet and abandoned him by now. Hopefully, he’s not taking him to an animal shelter, otherwise those poor, hapless shelter employees are in for a rude surprise when the potion wears off.
Magnus gets his answer a few blocks later as the man walks into a brownstone just a couple of stories high. It’s a nice building that’s fairly modern on the inside, probably recently renovated, and fitted with an actual elevator. It’s certainly far nicer than the studio Magnus owns above his shop, and the inside smells surprisingly sterile like lemon-scented cleaner.
What he assumes to be the man’s apartment is also immaculately clean with its barely-scratched wood floors, large ceiling-high windows, and cozy balcony overlooking a park. All the appliances also look brand-new and sleek, and the furniture is respectably stylish –mostly covered in leather upholstery, which adds to Magnus’ shock when he’s placed down carefully on the sofa. Someone with this much money would never willingly cover it in cat hair and wayward claws –of which he’s dutifully trying not to rub his own against anything, never mind what his newfound cat instincts tell him to do. Kneading is not an option here.
“I know it’s not the most pet-friendly of places, and I’m pretty sure my landlord would kill me if he knew… but I’m just going to keep you long enough to have my sister look at you in the morning.”
...In the morning. In the morning. Will Magnus even still be a cat by then? The potion had come from an old Armenian spellbook that he roughly translated on his own, with specific care paid to the part where the spell’s original creator had guaranteed the potion’s longevity and efficacy. Of course, the longevity and efficacy of the potion is entirely dependent on the one who drinks it and how well they can fuse with their inner beast. As Magnus is a particularly gifted witch –or so he likes to tell himself and others often– he’s quite certain he has an easier time of bonding to the magical properties of any potion than most witches and humans. This could either work to his advantage and disadvantage, unsure which way the pendulum will swing.
He could be stuck like this for days, for weeks, for even years.
There’s also a tall tale among the witch community of an early 18th century witch, Radmir Dordevic of Belgrade, who turned himself into a serpent on a dare and had remained trapped under the potion’s effects for so long that he began to believe himself to have been born a serpent. He even became a local terror, biting the ankles of young nobles and poisoning them until he’d been cut in half by an irate farmer. Certainly not the sort of end Magnus would like to see, but fortunately, this is 21st century New York and not everyone has a similar distaste of cats. Spending his life with a beautiful owner is hardly the worst way to wear out his remaining days, but he’d also miss a lot of life’s fineries, like vintage cognac, silk shirts, making love to something that doesn’t have barbed genitalia…
Yeah, there’s a lot that’s fairly unpleasant about being a cat.
But everytime the stranger rubs him on the back of his ears, he forgets there’s a cold apartment he has to go home to and pack up. That his shop won’t be open tomorrow. That he’ll have to depart from his close friends and the whole life he’d built up here. Maybe for a while, he can just pretend he doesn’t have to run away all the time and can have a warm, welcoming home with a functioning heater and someone whose body heat runs so incredibly high that Magnus would give anything to curl up on his lap right now. He feels nice. He feels really nice.
His eyelids are starting to droop already, seduced by the promise of the coziest of dreams from having his fur so thoroughly massaged, but the spell is quickly broken when the man shifts away from the couch.
“I should probably get you something to eat.”
Magnus is left with nothing to cradle against and ends up rolling pitifully onto his injured side. He then tries to hop down and follow the man which proves to be another mistake because his ribs burn from the impact, leaving him limping a little awkwardly and wincing as much as his cat face would allow him.
“Hey, come on,” the man says as he quickly runs over to him, scooping him back onto the couch, “I put you up here for a reason. Just relax. I’m going to get you something to eat.”
Food sounds divine right about now –so long as it’s not cat food. He can resort to eating a lot of things in a pinch but not dry, flavorless cat food. Fortunately, he can smell a pouch of tuna being opened nearby which makes his stomach instantly clench, reminding him he hasn’t eaten anything since that morning’s bagel.
It takes only about a minute for the man to reappear with a small bowl, laying it down next to his head with the tuna inside and giving Magnus an encouraging stroke to eat.
“It’s okay. It’s fresh. Um, I guess I should put some newspapers or something down for you afterwards… I haven’t had a cat in years. Well, Max was really the one who had one, and that cat hated everyone.”
His ears perk up as he listens to the man babble to him, unable to resist. It’s that all-too alluring voice and those engulfing eyes that look softer and hazier in the lamp light than they did outside, like a forest floor dappled with streaks of sunlight. Magnus wishes he could ask him more –about who Max is. About himself. What his name even is and how he lived in Brooklyn so long without Magnus ever coming across him until today.
As those questions percolate through his mind, he ends up inhaling his tuna feast quickly, and it must be the cat instincts seeping into his brain already because he finds himself licking the bowl several times even long after he finishes. Though he’d once treated himself to several lush five-course meals in the best restaurants in all of Paris, nothing tastes more heavenly to him right now than the store-bought tuna. It’s pure bliss. He thinks he can live on this for a lifetime, although he’s sure there are far healthier options for a cat body.
The man’s fingers draw downwards from the top of his head to the back of his neck a few times, smoothing the fur there while he wears a soft smile that’s also heaven to Magnus.
“That good, huh? You must have been starving for a while. Did you have an owner before?”
Magnus’ eyes narrow a little at the thought even if it’s not exactly the most unreasonable thing to ask a cat.
“Probably not. This neighborhood is covered in strays. A bunch of them also live on the balcony on top of mine. The old lady up there always feeds them. Maybe I should leave you with her, but I also think maybe she has too many already.”
Magnus blanches at the thought. As much as he likes cats (he’s prone to feeding them too and building a cabal out of them in his own shop’s nearby alley), he also doesn’t want to spend his existence as a cat fighting with them for dominance over cat kibble or whatever happens in the apartment above. Besides, if he’s going to stow away with a human for a few days, he’d rather it be someone who’s nice to look at and smells like sea salt aftershave.
His head butts into the human’s hand to try and convey that very fact nonverbally, which makes the human laugh in a way that causes his whole body to shake next to his own. Magnus can’t help but crawl straight onto his lap for that, fighting a losing battle against the urge to keep his dignity and play coy. Everything about this man already lures him like a living, breathing lighthouse calling him home, and he’s all too willing to plunge into the trove of scents gathered on his worn shirt, nuzzling his nose straight into the fabric like it’s everything to him.
The man pets him more firmly, hand moving across his head, over his neck, and following the curve of his back down the length of his tail. Unconsciously, Magnus wraps the tip around his fingers, finding another fresh bundle of nerves there that he never knew or thought existed, and it feels weirdly entrancing to have them sporadically tickled by the stranger’s wandering fingers.
Why are cats so skittish about being touched when it feels this good? Maybe it comes from built-in trust issues, which Magnus can sympathize with a little too well. He’s been immersed in a raging war with his own for as long as he can remember, but considering this guy had risked his life to save him and had then brought him home and fed him, he finds it a little easier than usual to let his guard slip. It also helps that he’s so addled by all the new stimuli erupting around him, he can’t summon enough presence of mind to pull away. Not when being pet and stroked feels this satisfying and not when the man smells divine enough that Magnus is tempted to drop to sleep again on top of him. Unfortunately, every time he comes even close to nodding off, the man shifts around and tenses up uncomfortably.
“I should make you a bed or something for the night,” he murmurs quietly, as if he’s afraid to disturb Magnus too much. “I’m so used to sleeping alone, I’d probably accidentally roll over you if we shared the bed.”
Magnus fails to see what the problem is, except yes, the stranger is over six feet tall. That would likely asphyxiate him. Although, in the pantheon of pleasant ways to die, being smothered by a handsome-looking man is probably at the top.
The stranger probably doesn’t see it the same way because he ends up building some kind of nest out of blankets on his bedroom floor, gathering a bunch of them in the corner and arranging them in a circular pattern. A pillow is also placed there for extra cushioning, and it all smells so delightfully like the stranger that Magnus winds up drawn to it like he’s been hypnotized. His cat-body curls up on the top-most sheet, wishing he could perch on the stranger’s chest in the same way, feel his well-muscled arms mold around him while he buries himself into the promise of oblivion offered by his embrace.
“Good?” the man asks like he’s actually nervous about gaining a cat’s approval. “I’ll get you some water and, uh, newspapers too. In case you have to go.”
That’s a horror Magnus doesn’t want to deal with, quite sure he can just balance himself on the toilet if need be and hopefully not fall in. Anything is better than suffering the indignity of relieving himself on newspapers.
Once the stranger has set up an entire micro-habitat around him, complete with a bowl of water and more cushions, he finally graces Magnus with a little head pat before standing up and removing his t-shirt, which is– wow. Magnus is not sure how many brain cells he has as a cat (if it’s equal to the number he usually has a human). He is sure that they’ve all fizzled out like a bunch of overused light bulbs just now. No one is allowed to look that breathtaking shirtless, and he feels a bit weird and invasive for ogling him, cat body or not. It’s probably something he maybe should have gotten permission for beforehand, but he also can’t tear his eyes away.
The man continues to wander through his room unaware, stripping down to his underwear and brushing his teeth before crawling into bed, all sleek muscle mass moving with practiced swiftness. It’s obvious he’s spent a lot of time in the gym, that he might even be an athlete judging by his build. It makes Magnus kick himself internally for the upteenth time for having run into and met him as a cat, but he’s sure if he can memorize where this place is, he might be able to stage an ‘accidental’ meeting in the future. Maybe stumble into him while the stranger goes out for a run. Spill coffee on his shirt.
No, no stop that.
He has to skip town after this, or the witch hunters will likely come knocking at his door. He can’t risk his life and those of the other witches here because a cute guy rescued him. For all he knows, said cute guy might not even be interested in getting to know him without the fur, the cute cat-face, and all the purring.
It’s a sobering thought that honestly doesn’t make it any easier to fall asleep, but Magnus has also had a long day. His magic is still depleted, his body is aching all over, and he just wants the potion to wear off so he can trudge home and try to duct tape his life back together.
☆☆☆☆☆
So Alec’s never had a pet before.
Church had been more of Max’s pet than his own, one that had hissed, scratched, and bitten anyone who even so much as crept close to him. At best, Alec had sometimes cleaned and refilled his food and water bowls back when he’d lived at home, but Max had always been his primary caretaker.
He remembers Jace wanting a dog and constantly begging their parents for one before they’d separated, and if they had actually agreed, then it would have likely ended up being entirely Alec’s responsibility to look after it. Such has always been the way things go between them. Jace gets excited. Jace makes a plan. Jace drags him along. Jace loses interest. Alec gets stuck cleaning up his mess.
This had been the first time he’d ever really considered adopting a cat for himself if only because he’s been a bit lonely since Jace moved out. His father had taken Max (and Church) with him to upstate New York to live with his new wife; his mother had moved in with her latest boyfriend, Luke; Jace had moved in with his girlfriend; and Izzy had chosen to live in the NYU dorms. That had pretty much left him bereft of any roommates in a too-giant apartment.
Of course, his lease stated explicitly that he’s not supposed to have pets, but considering the old lady upstairs has been getting away with it longer than Alec’s been alive, he’s sure no one is actually going to complain. It certainly helps to have Lightwood attached to his name since his father is the Lieutenant Governor of New York, a fact that’s opened more doors than closed any, but it’s also something Alec wishes he didn’t have to wield around just so he could be allowed to do the basic and decent thing of nursing a stray cat back to health.
He probably would have ignored said cat if he hadn’t watched some asshole kick it into moving traffic, triggering his more protective impulses. In hindsight, it was rather stupid of him to throw himself in front of a cab at all for a black ball of fur, but Alec isn’t sure he could have lived with himself if he had watched the cat get flattened instead.
The way it had fixed its giant, round eyes on him afterwards had also melted any resolve he had to set the cat back onto the street and just go on his merry way home without it. He had kept imagining all sorts of ludicrous scenarios with the cat getting run over by another car or further kicked around by more self-centered idiots. It hasn’t exactly escaped his notice that he does live in an absurdly posh neighborhood, one where most people pay dog walkers and nannies to look after their pets instead of doing it themselves. Sympathy is in short supply in this part of Brooklyn.
It also doesn’t help that the cat is –well– completely covered in black fur. An omen to some, but Alec’s never been the superstitious type. He had walked under a ladder the day he passed the LSATs and had also cracked a mirror the day he met his first boyfriend. Never mind that that relationship had ended in less than pleasant terms. For a short while, it had felt like the best thing to ever happen to him in his life.
Besides, he can’t imagine the cute ball of fluff bringing any hell or damnation with it –or him? Her? Alec hasn’t really bothered to check underneath it to answer that question and kind of feels weird trying to do so now while it’s sleeping. Maybe if he just carefully rolls the cat onto its side, he can lift its leg up and see.
He doesn’t even know what he’s so afraid of. He’s clearly got the size advantage, and at worst, the cat will probably only bite or scratch him. It’s nothing Izzy can’t disinfect or stitch up later if she needs to. Plus, If the cat is going to be a regular fixture in this place, he should probably name it and do all those things owners usually do, like buy a litter box, some scratching posts, and actual cat food.
Is he even going to keep it? He’s been debating over it since he brought the cat to his apartment last night because he’s usually away from home all day due to class. Columbia is a long commute from where he lives, and he tends to spend a good while on the train traveling back and forth. He also has his internship in the afternoons and doesn’t get out until late in the evening sometimes.
Counter-argument to that– cats tend to be independent and self-sufficient. This one also doesn’t seem to be all that aggressive. It had pretty much melted in his lap while he’d been petting it last night, which is way more than Church had ever done for him even when Church had been a kitten.
Furthermore, it would give Alec someone to actually talk to since his dating life is non-existent these days. His schedule doesn’t allow for much room to actually meet guys, and even if it did, he can barely bring himself to talk to anyone attractive, let alone flirt or ask one out. A lot of his short-lived relationships had mostly been set-ups by his siblings that had gone awry, and he can’t even remember the last time anyone had even slept over after having sex.
The fact that the cat has been the first one to do so in too long probably says a lot about the sad state of his relationships. At this rate, the cat will also probably end up being his most successful relationship, which is a bleak thought to ruminate over before he’s gotten any coffee in him. Fortunately, it’s a Sunday, so he can spend most of the day getting the cat set up and comfortable.
He still tries not to wake it as he creeps out of his bed at last, tip-toeing across his throw rug into his private bathroom to quickly relieve himself and brush his teeth. By the time he’s finished, the cat is blinking bleary-eyed at him and attempting to roll out of its cocoon of blankets. Its pupils look large in the dim lighting which doesn’t help the haze spread across its expression as it creeps out of its makeshift bed and promptly falls on its side.
Alec frowns and rushes to help it up, being careful not to apply too much pressure. “You’re still banged up from last night, so take it easy.”
Which feels like a silly thing to say. The cat obviously doesn’t understand him, but Alec just can’t help himself. Probably because he’s really spent too much time cooped up in here by himself. It’s clear his mind is obviously in the process of eroding without proper social contact.
Which reminds him– he should text Izzy about the cat now that it’s an hour where she likely won’t be occupied trying to suck out Simon’s soul through his mouth. That is not a mental image he should have ever given himself, but he’s too late to stop it from unfurling across his brain.
“I need coffee,” he mutters more to himself than the cat while carrying it with him into the kitchen.
He leaves it on top of the counter with a fresh batch of tuna as he gets a pot brewing. The cat engulfs the tuna in one breath, most likely having been starving for quite a while. It does look leaner than most of the alley cats he’s used to seeing. Also a lot nicer looking –no mangy fair, bald patches, missing eyes, or bitten off ears. If Alec had to hazard a guess on the breed (something he consults Google to help him with), he’d say it’s a Bombay cat. A regal-looking one with fur so soft that Alec can’t resist running his hand over and over the short, silky strands while it eats. It’s a surprise the cat even lets him. Were it church, he’d definitely be missing a few fingers right about now.
Once the cat is done licking all the crumbs from the bowl, Alec leaves it on the couch with the TV on (he’s not sure why he feels the need to leave the cat watching a morning talk show) while he showers. It isn’t until he’s finished and towel-drying his hair that he hears Izzy coming through the front door, her heels clicking noisily across the wood floors. There are no other accompanying voices, which he’s grateful for. He’s not in the mood for Simon to talk his ears off about his band’s latest gig. If Alec never has to be forcefully dragged to another of his sad concerts again, he’d be the happiest man in the universe.
Izzy doesn’t waste time throwing her arms around him, drawing him into a firm hug. “So you finally got a pet. Is this the start of your journey to becoming a sad, lonely old cat woman?”
Alec rolls his eyes before gesturing to the– ...Oh. He blinks when he realizes the couch is completely empty, and the cat is decidedly not where he left it.
“What is it?” Izzy asks him, picking up on his worry.
“Did you leave the door open?”
It couldn’t have snuck out of his apartment that fast while injured. It still has trouble even walking at all.
Alec starts double-checking all the windows to make sure those are all still closed before looking below and behind all his furniture. The more empty spaces he encounters, the more his worry starts to escalate.
“Can you check around the TV? I’ll start on my bedroom closet. It was definitely right on the couch before you got here.”
“If you’re implying I scared it off, I’m going to make you swallow your own tongue.”
Alec doesn’t bother responding to that, too concerned with pushing his clothes and shoes aside, hoping the cat just decided to find somewhere dark and safe to crawl into. Distantly, he hears Izzy removing her shoes and fiddling with all the wiring behind the TV around before she calls out back to him– “Found it!”
He immediately comes rushing back out to his living room, releasing the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding as he spots a tuft of familiar black fur, somehow squeezed between the wall and the small entertainment center holding his television up. How he managed to slip through there so fast and without him noticing is nothing short of impressive, but Alec can’t imagine the precarious position is helping the cat’s injury.
His hands carefully slide the furnishing aside to get the cat out before murmuring to it, “It’s fine. You don’t have to be afraid. It’s just Izzy.”
Izzy fixes him with an amused look. “I never thought I’d see the day our cold and grouchy Alec Lightwood would be caught cooing to a cat.”
Which earns her one very cranky glare in return because he wasn’t cooing. He was calming it down. In a very adult and dignified voice.
“Look, it was traumatized the night before. There was this guy who kicked it twice and then a car nearly ran over it. I think its ribs are broken.”
That makes Izzy frown as she moves in closer to inspect the cat. “Do you mind if I hold it?”
If it lets her. Alec isn’t entirely confident about the cat’s friendliness towards all strangers, but he sinks to the ground to place it in between them so Izzy can have a better look.
Her fingers move over the cat’s fur, helping to calm it down as she feels over its sides and along its legs. She then tilts her head to inspect its underbelly and lift its tail, watching in fascination as the tip curls around her forearm.
“Did you find anything yet?” Alec asks, trying to keep some of the worry out of his voice.
“Well, your cat is definitely male.”
A question he’s glad to have answered even if it’s not really the point of their current exercise. The cat stares at Izzy like it’s actually ...bemused by that discovery, but Alec is sure he’s just reading too much into things at the moment.
“I mean is anything broken?”
Izzy shakes her head gently. “I can sneak him into the radiology lab to check since there’s barely anyone around on Sundays. The professor also left me the keys.”
Of course, he did. Izzy has this way of buttering up people into doing whatever she wants. It’s a fairly impressive skill, and he’s not complaining if it can help them find out what’s wrong with the cat a lot faster.
“Have you thought of names yet?”
Not particularly. He’s never had to name anything his life. A naive part of him thinks he might get to one day if he ever has kids, but that dream travels farther and farther away from him the older he gets.
What does one even name a black cat? Mittens or Whiskers doesn’t really fit. The cat is far too regal-looking for anything like that –like the type of cat one would find on an Ancient Egyptian relief, carefully chiseled onto the inside of a pharaoh’s tomb
“What would you name it?” he ends up asking Izzy.
Izzy turns the cat’s face towards her, leaning forwards like she’s trying to read the cat’s mind. She hums softly in the back of her throat as she does so. “What’s your name… I know you have one in there. Could it be…–,” she pauses for dramatic effect then smiles, “–William Catner?”
The cat’s hair frizzes up as it hisses at her in response, and Alec barely resists groaning out loud himself at the lame joke. Simon has had the worst kind of influence on her.
“I’m not naming him after a dumb Star Wars pun.”
“Star Trek,” Izzy corrects.
“I hate that you know the difference now.”
His gaze returns to the cat, still trying to figure out a good name for it. Pharaohs won’t leave his mind and neither will the name Cleocatra, but he’s not giving Izzy the satisfaction of hearing him say that out loud. That name is going straight into the grave with him.
Instead, he offers– “Ramesses.”
The cat doesn’t lash out at him but also seems to duck its head between his paws, which means he probably doesn’t like it. Unfortunately, Alec doesn’t know what the hell else to call the cat. His pop culture references are non-existent, and he kind of likes the idea of his cat being the ‘King of Kings’.
His fingers rub the back of the cat’s neck to try and cheer it up, though he’s not sure it works.
Izzy smiles at the two of them like she can’t help herself before teasingly poking Alec’s cheek. “Well, I like it, although be prepared for a Watchmen reference when Simon comes over.”
“He’s never coming over. He’s not allowed near the cat.”
Alec already knows Simon has an encyclopedia of cat knowledge ready to be unloaded, and he doesn’t want to hear it. Things were a lot easier before when Simon had just been Clary’s weird friend and not his potential future brother-in-law, but Alec’s been adjusting. Slowly.
At least, he and Izzy have managed to resolve one thing, even if he still feels a bit odd about having a cat around, but once you name it, it’s yours. He’s sure he’ll get used to him in time, and Ramesses is a good cat. A little skittish. A little guarded. But what cat isn’t, really?
“We’ll have to pick up a carrier before we can take him to the lab,” Izzy tells him as she stands and brushes the cat hair off her skirt, “and a flea collar, some treats to spoil him with, maybe even get him a little bell he can wear around his neck so you always know where he is.”
Something tells Alec that that will drive him crazy before it drives the cat crazy. He’s always been jumpy around surreptitious noises erupting from any corner of his apartment. Attach the noises to a moving object, and it’s a recipe for madness.
“I’ll take care of it. Can you watch him while I head out?”
Izzy nods at him and carefully scoops the cat up to take him to the couch. To his surprise, the cat curls up comfortably in her grip, letting her fingers move across his back with ease. Alec hadn’t expected the cat to relax that quickly around his sister, but he must have made some feline determination that she’s trustworthy enough while they were talking. It’s heart-warming in a way and makes Alec feel a little more at ease about his new roommate.
He tries to bite down the small smile that threatens to break out at the sight of the two of them bonding before he heads to the pet store.
☆☆☆☆☆
It’s difficult for Magnus to sneak out of the apartment when there are people constantly watching over him. Alec, whose name he’d thankfully been gifted with earlier, is more nurturing than anyone would have surmised from the surly expression he usually wears, although Magnus kind of clued into that fact early on when Alec had brought him home instead of leaving an injured stray cat to starve on the streets. Unfortunately, this endearing personality trait of his makes it difficult for Magnus to ever slip away unnoticed, compounded by the fact that one of his ribs had been fractured slightly –a simple hairline fracture thankfully. Not enough to really cripple him, but it does make it hard for him to jump or run without being in pain. It also makes Alec behave extra protective over him, following him around with a scrutiny that makes Magnus uneasy because he’s not used to anyone being that concerned over his well-being.
Or the well-being of a cat really. If he’s honest with himself. He highly doubts Alec would be this concerned if he knew he were actually looking after a witch.
To make matters worse, his sister, who is also absurdly attractive making Magnus wonder what sort of gene pool this family had come from, had fitted him with a makeshift cone earlier to keep him from twisting to lick at his own ribs. Magnus had spent the first half-hour after his x-ray trying to get it off of himself before she had drugged him with painkillers. That had put him to sleep almost instantly, and he’d had the most wonderful experience of waking up side by side with a half-dressed Alec stroking him earlier.
What he wouldn’t give to experience that same moment in his usual body, head pillowed against Alec’s hard chest, feeling him breathe steadily underneath him. It’s hard not to imagine it now even when he shifts and remembers… oh yeah, there’s a fucking cone around his neck.
His claws try to scrape it off as Alec twitches into alertness, strong hands working fast to steady him.
“Ramesses, you’re going to make your injuries worse.”
...Then there’s that name. That awful name. If anything makes him stop squirming, it’s hearing him be called by something so obvious and tacky. Not that he wanted to be called the alternative either. If they had simply pointed Magnus to an alphabet chart, he would have gladly spelled out his actual name for the two of them.
Alec tries to stroke him back into some state of placidness, and it does sort-of work if only because Alec smells nice and is probably the best thing Magnus has ever cuddled against. He doesn’t think any pillow could compare to having a solid wall of muscle next to him.
“Izzy said I have to wait an hour more before your next pill, so you’re just going to have to relax through this.”
Being drugged again makes it even less likely he’ll have enough brain power to want to leave, which is already enough of a challenge without opposable thumbs. Unfortunately, the longer he stays here, the more he feels bad about the idea of abandoning Alec because he seems really excited about having a pet. Sure, he’s not jumping up and down for joy, but he bought Magnus a cat bed, toys, a litter box he’s pointedly not thinking about, and fancy cat food. Not just anything generic. The good kind that they always serve on expensive silver platters in cat food commercials. Not even Magnus spends that much on his strays.
He also thinks Alec might be terribly lonely even if he doesn’t really announce it out loud (who would?). What few photos he has in his apartment all revolve around his family members, and from what glimpses of his life he’d caught from Alec’s conversations with Izzy, his siblings all appear to be dating while Alec hasn’t had a date in a long while.
Magnus would really, really love to rectify that last bit, if he weren’t presently trapped in the body of a cat. That and he’s not sure if he’d even be Alec’s type. Alec is just so honest and sweet, someone with simple tastes and simple desires. He likes jeans and plain, dark t-shirts. While Magnus is, well, a heavy practitioner of witchcraft for starters. Also quite a bit out there, both style and personality-wise. There’s very little about his lifestyle that wouldn’t immediately scare off Alec.
Having been his cat for a few days is also probably not the best way for the two of them to meet either…
Essentially, this is a very chaotic situation he’s embroiled himself into, but he’s not sure how to get himself out of it. No one was ever supposed to find him and take him home, least of all a beautiful grad student who makes Magnus actually want to stay a cat for longer if only to be doted on. It’s a very dangerous thought because he doesn’t want future witches to tell tales about him centuries later of how he became so infatuated with one man he barely knew that he decided to spend the rest of his nine lives as his pet.
But that same man smiles like the spaces where sunshine and earth touch. Magnus finds it hard to look away, his breath pulled loose from his lungs like it never had any business being there in the first place. He doesn’t think he’s ever come across anyone who’s floored him so effortlessly and so carelessly, which might be more of a testament of Magnus’ attraction to lost causes.
What is he even supposed to tell Alec? He can’t lie to him, and after hearing the truth, Alec would just think he were insane and want him out of his life permanently. It would be better to stick to his original plan of escape. He just has to find a good enough opportunity for it. Alec is bound to leave the apartment at some point, and Magnus is sure he can use a spell to make a lock or window open themselves if he has to. It doesn’t require a lot of magic or opposable thumbs to complete, though he can’t exactly conjure much like this. Not only is he unable to speak any incantations, but this body doesn’t really circulate magic well through it. Some element of the potion is likely acting as a spiritual impediment and preventing him from accessing the deepest recesses of his own power.
It would be easier if he could reach Catarina or any of the other witches, but he’s quite sure paws were not made for texting without clawing up the average phone. If only his own phone hadn’t been sadly abandoned in some back alley a few blocks away.
That means he’s trapped for a little while longer until someone leaves the door open long enough for him to slip through, but he still hates the thought of leaving Alec. He looks so content and at ease lying next to him, stroking his fur while some late night show blares in the background, his mind probably wandering somewhere deep where Magnus can’t reach.
Magnus wishes he could ask him what he’s thinking or feeling –or at the very least how someone as attractive as he is ended up single. Anyone would have to be stupid to break his heart –never mind that he’s thinking of doing the same.
Maybe, for just a short while, he can try and be a friend to him. Of sorts. To be there for him, however ephemeral the idea might be.
His body shifts to crawl over Alec’s stomach, half-lying on top of him as Alec’s hand moves from his head down his back. His strokes are slow and measured, very careful. It’s easy to be lulled by them, feeling just as medicated by his touch as he is by any pill. A low purr ripples unbidden from his body, making him tremble as Alec shifts slightly underneath him.
“Still catches me off-guard when you do that,” he murmurs before following the line of Magnus’ tail with his index finger.
The touch tickles him slightly, and he ends up crawling more fully on Alec’s stomach, being careful not to claw him. To his surprise, Alec is the one who ends up dozing off first, head tipped back, lips parted, body half-sitting up with the help of his pillows. It can’t be all that comfortable, but Magnus is in no hurry to move from his perch at all.
He’ll plan his escape better tomorrow. For now, he’s content to fall asleep with chiseled abs under his own belly.
☆☆☆☆☆
It’s absurdly late when Alec gets out of work, his body weary from a full day of rushing from the gym to his morning classes to his internship. He’d also stopped by Izzy’s to pick up more cat things she’d happened to buy on a whim, including a pair of bat wings that he’s pretty sure Ramesses is going to chew to pieces. The cat had barely lasted a day with the cone before Alec had given up and figured Ramesses would behave well enough without the extra protection. Hopefully, his hunch proves him right as he doesn’t want to get home and find the cat in agony.
His adrenaline has already been running high since the early afternoon because one of the guys from his Advanced Constitutional Law course had given him his number –which is an event on par with Hell freezing over. Alec had been eyeing the guy since the start of the fall semester and hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him much until today. They had both wound up partnered together for an in-class assignment, and one thing had more or less led to another, so Alec may or may not have a date soon. If he could calm his nerves down enough to ask.
He’s just never been good at facing the probability of rejection and all the things leading up to it, such as anyone spending enough time with him to realize that Alec is… Alec. Not someone brazen like Jace or sultry like Izzy. Dependable, loyal, and overly organized Alec.
Right. He hates wrestling with this part of a potential new relationship. It’s easier to litigate in a mock courtroom full of judgmental peers than it is to sit one-on-one with someone he finds attractive, not that the guy in question is particularly mind-blowing. He’s more handsome in a very relaxed kind of way. Curly hair with a thick fringe, light eyes, a crooked nose. Alec can see himself really falling for him and his nice laugh one day.
Izzy did say he had to get back out there, and he knows he can’t just avoid dating forever even if he has a cat now. A cat isn’t exactly boyfriend material, no matter how cute he is, and Alec is starting to worry if he does get too comfortable around Ramesses, he’ll never actually want to try dating again.
And so would begin his gradual decline into adopting more and more cats…
Although, he still thinks that one alone is a handful, considering how hard he has to steel himself before opening the door to his apartment, unsure what kind of nightmare state it will be in. He certainly doesn’t expect it to be so… still and quiet. No furniture out of place. No strange smells. Nothing torn up. His eyes crawl across all his furniture to double-check as he looks for the cat.
There are a few books pulled loose and clawed from his lower shelves but nothing unsalvageable. The TV is also on somehow, though Alec can’t remember if he left it that way or not.
More importantly, the cat marches out on his own from wherever he was hiding before to greet him, his tail swaying from side to side like a metronome. Alec thinks he’s probably starving by now since he didn’t eat the cat food from this morning.
Even though Alec hadn’t spared any expense in getting the most expensive cat food in the store, Ramesses had taken only one sniff of it and walked away. It’s probably hard to downgrade after eating nothing but tuna for his first few days of living here, but Izzy had told Alec it was too fattening and dangerous to keep feeding it to the cat. The last thing Alec wants is to plump Ramesses up until he’s too big to move or accidentally poison him.
He moves into the kitchen swiftly to try a second time with the same cat food, opening it up and breaking it up into chunks with a fork before placing it in a bowl that he waves appetizingly under the cat’s nose.
“Come on, you can’t starve forever.”
The cat cranes his neck and pushes the food bowl towards Alec in defiance, earning him a frustrated sigh. Maybe if Alec leaves it there long enough, the cat will eventually succumb to temptation and eat it.
“I guess you’ll just have to watch me eat this nice fresh lasagna by myself in the meantime.”
As much as he enjoys cooking, he doesn’t often do it during the weekdays due to how late it always is when he arrives back at his apartment. He’s usually too exhausted to make anything more complex than stir fry out of whatever is left in his fridge, so it’s just easier to pick up take-out on his way home. He’d been thinking about lasagna in particular since that morning probably because Izzy had bombarded him with so many old Garfield strips while he was on the train.
The lasagna smells heavenly once he takes it out of the container, and the cat won’t stop looking at him with those wide eyes like he’s waiting for Alec to cave in and offer him a piece. He’s pretty sure there’s a lot inside lasagna that’s not supposed to be inside a cat, so he doesn’t want to test fate.
“You can stare at me all you want. You’re not getting a piece.”
The cat starts nudging his way along his legs and rubbing up against them, his body vibrating pleasantly against Alec’s calves. He’s only been here for three days, and he’s already acting so spoiled.
Maybe Alec shouldn’t enable him by putting him on the furniture all the time. He has to create some kind of dominance hierarchy in order for the cat to see him as his master.
Or is that only a dog-thing?
Ignoring him doesn’t seem to do much to deter Ramesses either, who ends up jumping onto his lap once he sits down to eat –which he isn’t supposed to be doing. Alec scowls as he feels the cat’s claws dig into his thighs and is forced to wrestle him off quickly and carry him to the couch.
“Fine. Fine. Just a few chunks of meat. That’s all, but you have to start eating real cat food at some point.”
He feels like he is trying to convince himself of that more than the cat, but a few bites will probably be okay. A cat’s diet is basically ground up meat anyway.
He sets the meat chunks out on a napkin and watches as Ramesses attacks it, practically inhaling the food then licking the napkin into tatters with his sandpaper tongue. It’s not much, but it’s something. Alec is worried he might not recover fully if he doesn’t get any proper nutrients in him, but he’s leaving force-feeding to a very dire, last resort. Maybe Ramesses just needs to try other brands of cat food first.
Once Alec is finished with his own dinner, he finds himself gravitating to the couch and lounging heavily onto its cushions while fighting against the carbohydrate-induced lethargy that always hits him after heavy Italian food. His eyes are drooping slightly as he idly scrolls through Instagram on his phone, if only because his classmate from earlier had mentioned he had an account. He just wants to see if they have anything in common.
It turns out the guy likes soccer a lot, which Alec has watched a few times, mostly because Jace usually has a match in the background whenever Alec stops over his and Clary’s place. The guy also likes fishing, bars, music… all things Alec doesn’t mind even if he can’t really name any bands, rarely has time to go bar-hopping, and has only fished maybe once or twice on vacation.
More importantly, the guy doesn’t look too bad shirtless, catching himself enlarging the photo to get a better look, although it’s not like anyone is around to judge him. The cat obviously doesn’t care even if he’s looking at Alec with a rather intense expression on his face. Alec assumes he’s probably waiting for more lasagna to be miraculously dropped onto his lap.
“How do you think he looks?” he finds himself asking the cat, turning his phone screen to face him. “He’s not too bad, right? His name’s Kevin.”
The cat reels back a bit and swats the phone with its paw.
“Look, he’s nice. We’re in the same program together, and he works out a bit.”
That doesn’t seem to convince the cat, who tries valiantly to push the phone out of his fingers again.
“I know, I know,” Alec tells him, holding the phone out of reach, “you like having all my attention exclusively on you, but I think this can work out.”
Sure, it’s not fireworks now, but Izzy had said the same thing about Simon. It had taken her a long time to even work up to a first date with him.
On the other hand, there is Jace and his quick-trigger romance with Clary, but Alec doesn’t want to think about them right now.
“Okay, I’m going to text him.”
The cat’s mouth pulls tight around its fangs, surprising him with a hiss that Alec tries not to take personally. He’s probably cranky because he’s hungry. Nothing he should read into it too deeply.
To his surprise, the guy does actually agree to meet up for drinks tomorrow, which is good. They can have a nice dinner and talk. Maybe he can bring him back to his place– okay, no. He needs to take it slow this time, no matter how long it’s been. He’s just… bad at whatever comes after sleeping with someone for the first time. Probably actually getting the nerve to call his dates up again, although the fact that his dates are in a hurry to leave after sex usually deters him entirely from the thought. Is he bad at picking people to date, or is it just that Alec isn’t the type anyone wants to be with for longer than one night?
He tries not to overthink the date like he overthinks everything else, scooping up the cat and taking him into his bedroom. Sleep sounds like a better alternative than worrying about his date, and maybe it will calm the cat by proxy. He’s never seen Ramesses behave so animatedly before, to the point where the cat starts pacing in circles the moment Alec puts him down on bed. The cat also doesn’t let Alec pet him the rest of the night, curling up on the furthest corner from him and showing him his back.
Alec eventually falls asleep while still trying to convince himself it’s just hunger and that the cat will get over it by tomorrow.
He hopes.
☆☆☆☆☆
For as kind and welcoming Alec had been to him –as a stray cat–, his apartment feels terribly like a prison whenever he’s not around. Magnus can’t shake off the tedium of being trapped inside with nothing to entertain him at all except the TV, which he learned to turn on and off with his nose. Usually, Alec leaves the remote on the couch, so it’s well within reach, although it requires a bit of maneuvering to actually use.
Other than that, there’s no one to talk to, no activity going on, and no food he can actually manage to open, which is fast becoming a problem. The cat food from that morning had started to look way too appetizing to him, especially after Alec mixed in some freshly-cooked sausage that had made his stomach ache with want.
He knows he’s only barely clinging to his dignity at this point, but he also worries he’s quickly losing his mind along with it. He’s starting to see why cats give into shredding up the furniture. There’s nothing else stimulating to focus on, and Magnus knows he can’t stay trapped in here forever. There’s only so many daytime talk shows he can intermittently nap through and so many failed attempts to reach the dry food cupboards he can carry out. He also doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with the giant basket of cat toys Alec left out for him, as listening to those things squeak has never been a particularly favorable pastime of his.
Then there’s the collar around his throat, something he tried to escape from, but Alec had insisted it would a.) prevent fleas and b.) help anyone return him if he got lost –which he certainly doesn’t expect anyone in New York to do. Alec is really pinning his hopes on the good of humanity when he might actually be the only paragon of their species. No one else would go through the trouble to return a lost cat, especially a cat that’s actually a witch in disguise.
There’s also maybe only one scenario where wearing a collar would be considered a palatable activity, and this is not it.
To add insult to injury, Alec likely won’t be returning any time soon tonight because of his date, who seemed like a decent enough guy judging from his Instagram. Just terribly boring and terrible underwhelming. Definitely nowhere near as attractive enough as Alec deserves. Magnus could never see them together (would rather see himself in Kevin’s place, but he’s pointedly not thinking about that).
He’s come to realize rather rapidly after living with Alec for a few days that Alec might not realize how devastatingly good-looking he is, a fact that’s very much enhanced by his kindness and eagerness to do what he thinks is right. There’s a lot to admire, a lot to like, a lot to love. Magnus enjoys being around him and talking with him –or more like hearing him talk. He can’t imagine a world where anyone wouldn’t be drawn to him, yet Alec is settling for some poorly dressed soccer-enthusiast just because the guy was there in his class.
Okay, Magnus might just be feeling a tad bitter because he can’t exactly ask Alec out in his current state and probably might never get the chance to. At best, all he can have are these ‘exciting’ few days as his pet cat.
Time also passes by abysmally slow without Alec as Magnus lurks around the apartment, finding new places to sleep. He wonders if Alec is ever suspicious about the unused litter box or why some of his nicer shoes have moved closer to the front of the closet while the older, dingier ones have been buried in the back. Probably. He’s far from dim-witted and does have a systematic way of organizing all his belongings.
It takes a while, but eventually, Magnus passes out on one of the arm chairs in the living room in a haze of hunger and utter boredom and only wakes up when Alec steps through the door with another pair of steps in tow. Oh, good. He brought his date.
Magnus doesn’t even want to watch them talk and make eyes at each other, so he tries to beeline to Alec’s room –only Alec captures him before he makes it that far.
“You have a cat?” his date asks, staring at Magnus like he’s radioactive.
The guy –Kevin– isn’t as dull-looking in person. Magnus could even see himself picking him up in a dim enough club and with a drink or three in him, but his brain can’t move past the pleather jacket he’s wearing, which smells all kinds of cheap, and the cologne he’d just about soaked every inch of his body in. It’s already hitting him hard enough to make his head ache as he burrows his face into the crook of Alec’s elbow.
“He’s a little shy around strangers,” Alec explains before rubbing his fingers around his neck. “Why don’t you relax for a bit? I’m just going to change shirts really quickly.”
The smell of something rich and spicy wafts from the fabric, which is as good an indication as any that Alec spilled something on it. Also, Indian on a first date? A horrible choice, Alec. He’s lucky Magnus can’t talk right now and tell him how many mistakes he’s made in such a short period of time.
To his horror, Alec sets him down next to his date instead of taking him into the bedroom with him, leaving him and Kevin to eyeball one another uncomfortably. Kevin even has the nerve to pop a mint in front of him like Magnus doesn’t see what he’s doing and where it will lead.
“What are you staring at?” the guy asks before turning the TV on.
Maybe if Magnus drills holes into the side of his head long enough with his eyes, he’ll leave. It’s petty of him –terribly petty–, but he already feels like the sanctity of this apartment is being invaded by an outsider.
Which is really an odd thought to have. This isn’t his apartment. These aren’t his things. If anyone is being invasive, it’s himself.
“Look, if you’re going to keep doing that, I’m just going to have to put you outside.”
Magnus tries to run at those words, but the guy’s fingers latch onto the scruff of his neck tightly as he carries him to the balcony door. He opens it one-handed and drops Magnus onto the ground where the frigid night air immediately hits him, making him tense and try to turn himself into a ball for extra warmth.
More importantly, he’s outside. He’s finally outside of the apartment. His brain yells at the rest of him to make a run for it and not to look back. To head down the fire escape and go to his apartment, so he can put this whole experience behind him and finally get back to his regular life.
But his muscles refuse to budge at all.
This might be his only chance to run away without question, but he can’t stop thinking about Alec’s crestfallen face when he finds his cat gone later. He’d been so happy mere moments ago, introducing him to his date like Magnus is an important member of the family.
Come on, Magnus, you need to go.
The words echo back to him fruitlessly, and he only manages to take a few steps before he turns back towards the window. Alec has already reappeared in a new shirt, smiling oblivious and eager at his date. That should be enough to make him turn around and run. Let Alec have a good life with Kevin and maybe find an actual cat to adopt one day. It’s a life he was never meant to intrude on nor interrupt.
Yet he still remains in place, like some deeper instinct fastens him there. Or maybe it’s just him becoming stupidly infatuated because a guy happened to be nice to an animal once. It’s certainly one of the least sensible things he’s ever done, and he knows he’ll later regret not taking advantage of the opportunity.
Another harsh breeze blows past him at the moment, ruffling his fur, and he tries to look for somewhere to curl up for the night, feeling pathetic he’s even entertaining the thought of staying. If he’s lucky, it’ll snow and freeze him to death for his blatant stupidity.
He’s busy crawling under the small outdoor bench Alec has on his balcony when he hears the balcony doors open once more.
“You really put my cat outside?! I can’t believe you! Do you know how cold it’s supposed to be tonight?”
Alec’s voice is positively lethal at the moment even as his head is whipping around to look for his cat. He eventually finds Magnus still half-peeking from under the bench and immediately picks him up and wraps his arms around him, melting the frost settling over his fur with his body warmth.
“It’s just a cat,” the guy says defensively, “my grandmother lets hers roam around outside all the time, and they’re always fine.”
“He’s injured. I told you over dinner. His ribs were fractured. Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
It shouldn’t make Magnus want to preen that Alec actually talked about him over dinner, but it does. Albeit, dinner with another guy, but details, details. It’s even more heart-warming that Alec is actually worried about him being cold.
“He’ll be fine,” the guy continues, but Alec isn’t listening to any more at this point.
“Just go,” Alec tells him, “I’m done.”
Those words make his date finally clam up, and he stalks out of the apartment, taking his cheap jacket with him, which is a relief. Magnus isn’t sure if he could have stomached the guy trying to get back into Alec’s good graces after dismissing all of his concerns. Alec definitely deserves better.
And maybe it won’t be so terrible living with Alec until he reverts back to being a human. Reasonably, Magnus can’t exactly subsist on his own since he can’t really feed himself or even get into his apartment without keys. Traveling long distances also makes him liable to getting run over if the night he met Alec was any indication of his survival skills as a cat.
Or maybe that’s all excuses he’s making to stay with him… which is just the worst of ideas. Catarina and Ragnar would call him pathetic and lovesick if they knew, but he’s never been good at making smart choices.
Later that evening, Alec pulls the covers in his bed aside for him to crawl under and curl up next to his body. His fingers move down Magnus’ spine, stroking him in that toe-curling way that never fails to leave his brain feeling like syrup. If he’s honest with himself, he might never want this to end even when he knows it’s a lie. That Alec loves and cares for a cat that doesn’t really exist and that Magnus is getting in too deep over his head by staying with him regardless.
☆☆☆☆☆
By Friday, Ramesses has managed to eat a whole lot of nothing, which has Alec worried that there is something deeply wrong with the cat. He’d gone through ten different brands of cat food, and none of them had inspired the cat to do anything productive about his hunger. At best, he’d sniffed at them before nudging the bowls away with his nose, which has brought Alec to a desperate point.
He’s actually cooking for the cat.
It’s the only way he can ensure he knows everything that goes inside of it is safe for the cat to eat and not too salty or fattening. Today’s menu is chicken fillet, his own lemon and pepper-encrusted while Ramesses gets a very plain and hopefully harmless piece.
The smell is promising enough to draw Ramesses into the kitchen, the cat weaving excitedly between his legs with the allure of food. It’s a rare event, as Alec hasn’t ever really cooked for anyone outside of his immediate family, but the cat is practically wedging his way into being a Lightwood already. He certainly has the infamous Lightwood stubbornness going on.
When the fillet is finished, Alec sets it on a nice plate on the floor before urging the cat onward.
“You’re really hard to please, you know that?”
The fresh chicken seems to do the trick because Ramesses turns into a blur of black fur as he races to the plate and starts attacking it. The fillet is then gobbled up within seconds, leaving the cat licking at the ceramic surface of his food bowl and every last crumb left on it. Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen an animal devour anything that violently, but the cat had also barely eaten in several days, making Alec worry the cat would just slowly waste away before his eyes.
As a reward, Alec crouches down and strokes the cat behind his ears with both hands, watching them flatten forwards and watching the cat’s eyes fall shut. It’s the face he always makes when he’s blissed out and practically high on affection.
“If only dating was as easy as this, but after the last guy, I’m not bringing anyone who’s not related into the apartment.”
The last thing he wants is for someone else to kick his poor cat out into the cold again, especially with the temperature dropping more and more each day. Pretty soon, they’ll be neck-deep in blizzard weather, and he doesn’t want Ramesses to die from hypothermia, although he should probably look into some kind of companionship for the cat while he’s gone during the day. It can’t be all that fun napping around the apartment all day with no one to play with.
There’s all those cats upstairs, but Alec has a feeling things will get weird when the females start going into heat. Would Ramesses even be able to smell it from one floor down? He knows the lady upstairs hasn’t ever bothered getting any of those cats spayed or neutered, which could potentially lead to kittens –a whole box full of them.
Would that really be the worst thing in the world?
Okay, that sounds like the gateway drug that will lead him into being a crazy cat lady too. He’s not going to go down that road. Just one cat is good enough.
Does that mean he should have Ramesses neutered....? No, he’s probably been through enough already. How old even is the cat? He does look adult enough, but Alec can’t tell if he’s an old man in there or someone roughly his age. He’s pretty spry and fast still, so he can’t be that geriatric.
Maybe he ought to ask the vet whenever he takes Ramesses in. He also probably should get him shots at some point –if he doesn’t have them. Is he even chipped? How has Alec not thought of any of this before?? He’d been so caught up with adapting to the cat that he’d pretty much skipped all the major adoption steps. What if Ramesses has worms or some kind of cat illness?
His fingers move under Ramesses’ arms, lifting him up a little, a move which earns him a surly hiss.
“Easy, I’m just checking if you are sick with anything. I guess your fur looks okay… and your skin. You’re not foaming at the mouth. Maybe I should check your… remains.”
He can’t even say it, but he does check the litter box… not that it ever gets used. Alec has yet to solve the mystery of where the cat has been actually going to the bathroom and is worried about the day he’ll find out. At least, he’s already confirmed that it’s not in his closet nor in any corner he can smell.
“I hope this isn’t just a sign that you’re horribly backed up.”
That would be uncomfortable and potentially deadly otherwise, so maybe he’ll make that vet appointment sooner than later. In the meantime, he takes Ramesses with him to the couch to settle for some evening news. It’s pretty much how he spends every Friday night, which he recognizes is pretty sad.
“You know,” he says softly, nudging the cat closer so he can stroke his ears, “it wasn’t this bad when Jace lived here. We were always out doing things. He’s less than a year younger so we started school about the same time.”
He doesn’t know why he’s blathering on to a cat about this, but it feels cathartic to talk to someone. Ramesses is also pretty smart for a cat and always looks at him like he’s actually ingesting some of what he says even if it might just be the names of people Alec often repeats.
“He’d drag me out drinking, or we’d shoot ball together for a while. Hit the gym, all that stuff.”
But love hit Jace hard, and his attention had been devoured by Clary. Admittedly, Alec hadn’t dealt with it in the best or healthiest of ways, but he’s better now. Better around the two of them. It’s just not the same without a constant voice wafting from the room across the hall. There’s no one to share takeout with. No one to bombard him with tales of his strange Chinese food-induced dreams the next morning while they watch old reruns. No one to force Alec to stop working and studying himself to death long enough to enjoy a drink at the pub down the street.
“Izzy used to drop by a lot too.”
But Simon happened, and Alec had started to feel like a fifth wheel everywhere they all went. Just two couples and him. Occasionally Maia would tag along too and trade barbs with him, but he’d seen less and less of her since she moved to New Jersey for graduate school.
His father moving away had also been hard to deal with since his parents and Max used to be little more than a train ride away, but his father’s career had taken off and his new wife wanted a change of scenery. His mom also doesn’t message him as much as before, always off traveling with Luke and trying to regain some of her youth back. The divorce had left her an absolute mess, and Alec coming out around then had just added to all of her stress and her waning emotional state.
Those particular days aren’t ones he’d ever want to revisit.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, the cat climbs up on his lap and stands on his hind legs to bump his head against Alec’s jaw. It startles Alec a little if only because it’s… new. He also feels the rough texture of his tongue move against his skin in what he assumes is a comforting gesture, but it also might be that Alec has some leftover chicken on his face.
Probably the latter.
“Come on, I’m not food.”
He gently pushes the cat back down to sit on his lap before running his fingers along the soft fur of his ears, tracing the triangular shape of them back and forth.
“If I knew all that chicken would put you in a good mood, I’d have made it sooner.”
It’s really hard not to spoil him. Really, really hard. Hopefully, this isn’t any indication of how Alec’s going to be as a father one day. He likes to think he’d be quite the disciplinarian if he has to. It just so happens that the cat has mostly stayed on his good side.
Mostly.
The no-eating thing has been his only real frustration with the cat, but he thinks this solution will work in the interim. Besides, it is kind of nice to cook for someone and to eat alongside them… even if his dinner guest is a cat.
Okay, maybe he’ll try dating again once he passes the Bar. In the meantime, this is… fine. This is probably fine.
☆☆☆☆☆
Magnus doesn’t know at what point during the night he’d been moved to the bed but is sort of glad for it as he stretches out a bit, groaning from being curled up so long. His bones haven’t felt this achy and wired for a long time, probably from all the crouching and jumping he’s had to do as a cat. It doesn’t help that Alec’s body is so comfortable, he often has trouble moving off of him for long hours, which leads to copious muscle cramps.
The pain hits him harder that morning, rolling its way down his spine and over his legs as he tries to regain his bearings. One side of his face is still plastered to Alec’s chest, feeling his broad muscles expand and contract in a measured rhythm that Magnus finds strangely relaxing.
What time is it even? They both have probably slept in for a considerable amount of time judging by the amount of light peeking through the window, which seems to be the norm for Alec on weekends. It counterbalances the fact that he always gets up at the crack of dawn on weekdays and doesn’t get home until it’s completely dark outside. Poor guy is clearly overworking himself to keep his grades exemplary and to be a model intern, which Magnus is sure will pay off for him eventually. If only he could stick around to see Alec graduate…
His body curves a bit, hand drifting unconsciously over Alec’s abdomen, asbently enjoying the tactile sensation of it before something odd registers to him.
Five fingers.
He has five fingers.
Oh fuck.
It takes every effort in his body not to sit up abruptly as other important facts start to become all too clear to his sleep-addled brain. First of all, he’s naked. He’s very naked. Second of all, Alec is going to lose his mind when he wakes up. Third of all, Magnus has no idea how to disentangle himself from this.
Okay, think, Magnus. Think.
There’s a minor transformation spell he can cast on himself. Exceedingly fragile. Exceedingly temporary. There’s also a glamour spell to make him look like a cat even if Alec would be able to tell he’s not by touch. He can go with the first to escape then the second while he hides and figures out how to get out of this apartment without being seen.
He starts whispering the first spell’s incantation as softly as he can manage, eyes closing quickly. He can feel the magical currents starting to crawl their way through his body and spread out like an intricate web connecting his blood vessels. It makes him feel too hot under his skin, but there’s no time to really interpret any oddities. Alec is going to wake up any second.
His lips are just about starting their second refrain of the incantation when he suddenly lets out a loud sneeze. His whole body jumps with the sensation, feeling liquid fire rush through his bones until he’s feebly curling in on himself.
Alec’s hand moves down his back, trying to soothe him, and Magnus isn’t sure what the hell just happened but he can feel his tail once again. He wishes he could breathe out a sigh of relief, but he’s not stupid enough to believe this isn’t temporary. The potion is obviously wearing off, and Magnus’ magic can only stitch back its effects briefly.
“Are you okay?” Alec asks softly, “That was a pretty big sneeze for such a small cat.”
Oh, you think?!
Okay, getting snippy at him isn’t going to help either. It’s not Alec’s fault he accidentally adopted a witch instead of a cat. Magnus just has to hold the transformation together until Alec goes out on his morning run.
If only Alec wasn’t moving so sluggishly this morning, getting out of bed like Magnus isn’t a ticking time bomb in the room with him.
“I’ll get your breakfast together in a few.”
That doesn’t matter! That doesn’t matter!! Magnus wants to yell at him to get dressed and get out, but luckily, Alec goes into the shower at that moment, leaving his usual clothing trail on the floor. A better man would not have stolen a quick glance before leaving the room, but Magnus is not that type of man.
The transformation manages to keep for a few seconds longer until Magnus reverts back to his human form and quickly steals some clothes out of Alec’s closet, taking full advantage of Alec being occupied. A simple shirt and pants. It’ll probably be too big, but it’s not like Magnus has time to alter it. More importantly, he needs to get the hell out of here fast.
He drags the fabric on quickly and runs out the front door before tripping like the utter mess he’s become over a fake, decorative plant out in the hall. How long has that been there? Not that Magnus has really left the apartment in about a week. He’d almost forgotten what the real world looks like on the outside. Even walking through the hall feels like a bizarre trip into another dimension.
He thinks there was an elevator around here somewhere… or maybe it was down the other hall. Fuck, fuck... he has to get out of here.
His hands move desperately along the walls, and he keeps imagining what Alec must look like stepping out of the shower to find the door open and his cat gone. He’s going to be completely devastated. Why didn’t Magnus leave sooner? He got too attached. He lost his mind and got too attached, and now he’s gone and ruined some poor guy’s Saturday. Probably even worse than that, considering how lonely Alec had seemed.
Maybe he should do something even stupider and find him a similar-looking Bombay cat to replace himself. If he sneaks in and leaves it in Alec’s apartment, maybe Alec might not be able to tell the difference. It’s not like it’s a rare breed, and all cats more or less behave alike.
Why is he even feeling bad about this? They’d known each other for about a week. Alec will be fine. He’ll move on. He can adopt his own new cat if he wants. It’s not Magnus’ responsibility to fix someone else’s problems.
Never mind that he caused them.
That thought– he’ll deal with that thought later. He manages to find the fire exit and decides to run down barefoot a few flights of stairs. It’s not the stupidest thing he’s done that morning and certainly not in his lifetime, but it’s definitely up there.
By the time he reaches ground level, he’s absolutely winded and suddenly grateful he picked one of Alec’s short-sleeved shirts. If only he’d thought to grab shoes, but this is fine. He can walk barefoot through the streets of Brooklyn. It honestly wouldn’t be the first time.
He’s almost escaped the lobby when a familiar voice reaches his ears.
“Hey!”
Fuckshitfuckfuck. Alec must have beaten him to the lobby by taking the elevator down.
Magnus thinks about bolting, but his ribs are still slowly healing, an injury that had tragically followed him into this form. Tripping over a fake plant and taking seven flights of stairs down had done nothing amelioratory towards them.
“My apologies, it was a bad evening, doing the walk of shame, you know how it goes.” The words tumble out in a single breath as Magnus determinedly keeps his back turned and keeps heading towards the front entrance.
“Oh, sorry,” Alec apologizes quickly before rushing ahead of him (curse him for being inhumanly fit and fast) and opening the door, “Here, uh, are you sure you don’t need any shoes?”
Magnus’ head continues to hang, his hair sweat-slick and sticking to his face and forehead. This is not the state he wants to meet him in nor the first (and last) impression he wants to leave Alec with, so he doesn’t spare him a look. Just keeps his eyes to the ground and sprints as much as he can manage out the door.
No looking back. His resolve will crumble if he looks back, and he’ll tell Alec everything. He can’t do that to him.
I’m sorry, Alec.
☆☆☆☆☆
It snows the first day after Magnus returns to his place, which suits his mood just fine. His shop had thankfully been unopened and untouched in his absence, as had been his apartment right above it. He had thought the hunters would have tracked it down, but maybe they only knew about his appointments. Not about his permanent hiding spot in the city.
That might be the only reprieve this experience offers, but Magnus is not stupid enough to remain in the city after his brush with death. He has to liquidate his assets here and pack everything up –hand his shop over to someone who’s a little less liable to have a target painted on their back. It’s just a shame to leave it all behind. Brooklyn had been his home for the past three years, and he’d really started finding his happiness here. If word hadn’t reached the hunters, he could have continued on making house calls to all his clients who really need the extra healing.
Worst of all is leaving Alec behind without a single word. The guilt had eaten him up inside the whole walk home, unsure what he really could have done or said differently. No one expects their cat to give them a loving hug before walking off in the sunset, and a note would just be absurd. Cute but absurd.
There’s also the fact that Alec had remained firmly wedged between every single one of his brain cells since he’d returned home, a stubborn presence that refuses to go away even when Magnus had been so determined not to care about him, but Alec –he’s different from everyone he’s ever met. He’s strong-willed, he’s driven, he’s passionate. He’s also kind and loving. Honest. Affectionate. Everything Magnus had convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. But having a taste of it had been addictive, and if the potion hadn’t worn off, who knows how long he would have stayed there playing house?
As shameful as it is to admit to himself, a part of him still wants to go back and be with Alec, but it would just feel wrong, knowing what he does about Alec’s family and personal life. These are all intimate details Magnus should have learned organically instead of stealing glimpses like a glutton desperate for more. Maybe in another life he could have just run into him at a coffee shop and dated him like normal.
Well, it’s certainly too late for that now, although Magnus’ eyes keep trailing back to his cauldron. No, no, that’s a bad idea. He’s not going down that road. He needs to pack and figure out where he’s going next. Probably Florida. It’s nice this time of the year. Plus, everyone is insane down there, so he’d fit right in.
Of course, he’d thought the same about Brooklyn, but Florida has nicer beaches. He might be able to squeeze out four years there in peace in an oceanfront apartment.
Or.
Or.
He could make a new batch of the transformation potion. He knows how long it works now and could steal another week with Alec.
His hands close around his face as though the impact could slap some sense into him. What is he thinking? He can’t just waltz up to his apartment as a cat again. What is Alec going to think? That his cat slipped out and came back of his free will after a pleasant stroll around Brooklyn?
Not to mention he almost got caught. It had been pure luck that he didn’t. If Alec had woken up any sooner, he would have likely broken more of Magnus’ bones. He’d seen how much Alec likes to beat up the punching bag in his spare room. It’s not something Magnus wants to be on the other end of.
Maybe he should call Catarina so she can effectively convince him this is a very bad and desperate idea. That he shouldn’t play pet cat just to be close to a guy he barely knows and who doesn’t know him. She’s always been the voice of reason in these scenarios. Except his phone is long gone, and he hasn’t bothered with a new one yet. Panic had occupied too much of his brain space to even consider replacing it right away.
Okay, but Alec has a phone. He has a nice phone. And a nice apartment. And he’s lonely and in need of a roommate.
His eyes move back towards the small cauldron again.
☆☆☆☆☆
The wind whips violently around Alec as he tapes another poster to a lamp post, though he recognizes the futility of it. Missing pet posters go up everywhere every day, on every corner, in every lobby, and even all over the web. No one ever reports any of those pets being found. The animals usually end up getting run over or picked up by Animal Services. It was stupid of him not to think about getting a chip or something. He thought the collar would be all he needed, but that had ended up torn in half and left behind on his bed.
How had the cat even gotten out of it? Who even left his front door open? It’s obvious someone had broken in, and he had assumed maybe it had been the frazzled guy he had seen in the lobby, but the guy had barely been dressed at the time. There’s nowhere on his body he could have hidden a cat. There’s also the option of his upstairs neighbor, but she’s too old and too slow to pull off any sort of elaborate cat heist.
Something really weird had happened yesterday morning, and Alec can’t shake off the lingering discomfort that a stranger had been in his apartment. He even remembers having woken up feeling foggy just a few minutes before the alleged heist from Ramesses sneezing loud enough to startle the dead. He also remembers observing the cat before showering, and the cat had looked visibly shaken by something. Maybe someone was already in the apartment at that time.
His closet had also been invaded, a few hangers left out of place and some of his shoes turned over. His favorite pair of jeans had also gone missing, which is a very weirdly specific item to steal. It’s not as though they were particularly expensive, but Alec does wear them regularly.
As far as he can conclude, someone broke into his apartment, took his cat and took his pants. Which makes no sense. Why not his wallet, his electronics, hell, even his food?
His mind lingers on that question as he plasters yet another poster up near the alley where he first found the cat before Izzy jogs up towards him. She has the remainders of her stack of posters clutched between her fingers, smoothing them out with uncertainty.
“I put them up everywhere I could think, but I’m not sure if it’ll work.”
Alec sighs, feeling the same level of desolation. “The cops probably won’t do anything about it either, even with the Lightwood name on the report. They investigated every inch of the apartment but didn’t find any clues. No prints, no hair left behind.”
“Did you upset anyone lately?”
His mind tracks back to Kevin who hadn’t been too happy with how Alec had ended things. The fact that Alec had chosen his cat over him probably injured his pride pretty badly, and he does know where Alec lives. If anyone were to have a motive, it’d be him, but he’d also already moved on to flirting with some other guy in their class. It’s unlikely he’d plot some elaborate revenge on Alec because their one date went sour.
“Just some guy I went on a date with, but I doubt he’s behind it.”
Izzy’s eyes widen as she steps in front of him, hands held out to stop him from retreat. “You went out on a date? Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“Obviously, it didn’t go well if he’s the only possible suspect in a cat-theft case.”
“Still, you should tell me about these things! We used to talk all the time. Now, I barely get a text from you a week, and it’s usually something nondescript!”
Being chatty and oversharing have never been any of Alec’s strong points. That’s what Jace is for. Besides, he doesn’t see the point in telling anyone about his dates unless they get serious, which isn’t going to happen for a long, long time. He’s still on a dating sabbatical. Probably on a cat-owning sabbatical after this, too. It’s obvious he can’t be trusted to be around anything, four-legged, bipedal, or otherwise.
“I still want to hear from you. If I hadn’t dropped by today, would you even have said anything about the cat?”
“...Probably.”
Eventually. He’s not even sure how he feels about it quite yet, except it’s going to be weird coming home to an empty apartment again. No one to feed. No one to hear him talk endlessly about his professors or the rough day he had at the office. No one to curl up next to his leg and let him stroke their ears.
Maybe he’d jumped into this adoption thing too fast. He’s really not an animal person nor is he good at sharing his space with anyone but his siblings. Some people are just better off alone.
Alec ends up falling silent the rest of the way back, hands deep in his pockets, head bowed, feeling the November chill sting his cheeks. Izzy tries to cheer him up with a few stories about her misadventures in the lab, but it only dulls the growing ache in his chest. Does nothing to wipe it away completely.
When she finally leaves for the day, he’s left enduring the silence of all his white walls and nothing but his own breathing echoing back at him. The heater hums low in between each exhale, and even the streets outside have gone strangely silent.
He ends up fixing a simple stew for one, the TV providing some extra ambient noise as he parks himself in front of it, pretending to be interested in the unfolding movie, but his eyes keep crawling to the basket of toys. He should probably donate that to his upstairs neighbor along with the cat bed and the litter box. All the cat things he stupidly bought because he didn’t know any better. What was he thinking, jumping the gun like that?
Once he’s done with dinner, he washes all his dishes by hand and goes to collect the food he left outside just in case Ramesses did scuttle back on his own and was hungry. In all likelihood, one of his neighbors may have gotten to it first, but at least, the meal wouldn’t have gone to waste.
He opens the door to clean it all up before freezing.
There, crouched in front of the dish he left out, huddled and licking the plate clean, is his cat, all soft black fur and wide golden eyes. Alec’s heart starts racing quickly as he immediately reaches out for it, expecting to touch empty air. Expecting for the cat to be a dream or a mirage.
Certainly not expecting his fingers to come into contact with his soft pelt nor for Ramesses to immediately nuzzle his hand back.
“You really came back… Where did you even go?”
His eyes roam over the cat’s figure, looking for other injuries, but he appears fine. He might not have even left the building. He could have just wandered out or escaped during the break-in and hid in the hall. It’s still weird that it happened at all, but Alec’s relieved.
Relieved and happy.
He ends up scooping Ramesses up in his arms and leaning down so the cat can head bump his jaw affectionately.
“I was initially against the whole bell on the collar thing, but I’m starting to reconsider it now. Come on, we both can use a breather.”
And a bath, but Alec is reluctant to leave the cat by himself so soon. If he’s sure he wouldn’t end up clawed all over, he’d actually take the cat into the tub with him, but he doesn’t have a death wish. Although, Ramesses does smell a bit like incense now that he holds him closer. Incense and something else rich and citrusy that he can’t quite put a name to like he’d been rolling around in a candle shop at some point.
It’s ...really pleasant.
“Someone didn’t give you a bath already, did they?”
Broke in and gave his cat a bath. There are just too many bizarre details to keep track of, and Alec is worried he might never fall asleep again if he starts overthinking all of them. He should be glad the cat is back at all and happily rumbling its way in his arms. That’s all that really matters, although he’s definitely changing the locks after this. Changing the locks and maybe considering installing a camera somewhere.
The timing also couldn’t be more perfect as he’d been eager to get rid of everything that reminded him of the cat if only to lessen the blow a bit. Maybe he’d grown a little more attached than he’d like to admit, which is probably not healthy. Probably really not healthy.
But Alec likes having the second body around, keeping him company, and he’s sure the cat must at least gauge his emotions to some extent. He certainly is very responsive to him in a way most humans lack. Alec can’t imagine anyone else he brings here with him being this openly attentive and affectionate with him, although food probably has a lot to do with it.
That night, Alec leaves the heater at a comfortable level and draws the cat close to him while he lies on his bed, letting the cat half-recline on his belly. His fingers slide behind the cat’s ears and down his back, following the natural curve of the cat’s spine as he tries to relax himself and release the remaining tension from his own body. Spending the last day and a half alone had been exceedingly harrowing. He’d gotten too used to a warm body happily vibrating next to or on top of him, soft fur pressed into his skin like a silk blanket. How had he even managed this before the cat entered his life?
☆☆☆☆☆
The potion, Magnus quickly learns, does not always last a full week for reasons he can’t possibly fathom. It might have something to do with his own magic, his body’s chemistry, or just the reduced efficacy of the potion the more times he drinks it in a short period of time. There are a number of different hypotheses working their way through his brain as he tries not to panic completely about his situation.
This time, luckily, Alec is out of the apartment, away at his internship judging by the time. He probably won’t be back for another few hours, so Magnus tries to collect himself long enough to come up with a better plan once he’s put some of Alec’s clothes on.
He knows Alec keeps a spare set of keys in a cupboard above the fridge so he can use that to get in and out before Alec even notices anything is amiss. He just has to remember to put the clothes and keys back exactly where he found them and clean up all evidence that he’d more or less been rifling through some of his things in his absence. He knows Alec is still on edge after the first supposed intrusion into his apartment.
This time, he also remembers to grab shoes even if they’re a little bit loose on his feet, making him trip awkwardly in them as he runs. His own place is just a few blocks away, having memorized the path and all the more useful shortcuts quickly. He also has some spare ingredients at the ready, his thoughts cycling through the potion’s recipe to keep himself from panicking completely. It’s just a matter of brewing them all together then running back to Alec’s apartment. It shouldn’t take long to make, especially with his level of acuity. He’d even left everything more or less prepared after the last time he brewed the potion.
He’s never been more thankful for his own foresight because it does speed up the process quite a bit even when his hands are shaking slightly. The clock is ticking mercilessly on the wall behind him, reminding him that he’s on a time crunch, and he does hate rushing the brewing process. It could affect the consistency of the potion and make it even weaker or have any number of side-effects. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the option to do anything else but rush and hope for the best.
Once it’s ready, he sprints back to Alec’s apartment, being careful not to drop or break the vial, especially when he accidentally crashes into some blond guy in the lobby.
“Sorry,” Magnus exhales quickly before throwing himself into the elevator only for the same guy to speed up after him.
“Wait, wait, hold it! I’m going up too.”
Fuck. Bad timing, but Magnus doesn’t want to be rude and close the elevator doors on him. He ends up letting the blond in and tossing him a more appraising glance.
Not his type but very handsome. His eyes are particularly striking, and he has a good build hidden under swaths of dark leather and denim. His whole aura reeks desperately of a teenage edgy phase that never quite went away, which Magnus can sort of relate to and appreciate, all things considered. His own tastes also run towards the dark and dramatic.
“Thanks,” the guy tells him before squinting a little.
There’s something on the edge of his tongue that doesn’t quite make it out, but he’s clearly wearing the expression of someone unsettled. Magnus tries not to comment on it and keep his own eyes trained forward –doesn’t notice they’re headed to the same floor until they both step towards the elevator doors at the same time.
Magnus ends up gesturing to the blond to go first.
“After you.”
It quickly starts to dawn on him the further they march down the hall that they’re also headed in the same direction, which makes Magnus curse internally. The guy even has his own key to Alec’s apartment, and it doesn’t take long for Magnus to put one and two together.
Alec has an adopted brother. That adopted brother used to live with him. Of course, he has his own key! Magnus should have recognized the blond sooner from Alec’s pictures, but he’d looked a lot younger and more clean shaven in them.
His steps shift quickly to make it seem like he’s heading to a different apartment, and he rapidly dives behind a corner when Jace is distracted unlocking the door. It’s not his proudest moment, but Magnus has another plan. He’ll just have to hide Alec’s spare clothes until he can sneak them back into his closet, except how is he supposed to get inside his apartment now?
Okay… okay. He’ll hide the clothes and the spare key and just wait outside his door again. Alec is bound to come home and find him there eventually, never mind that his suspicions might end up astronomically high from the whole ordeal, but Magnus is out of options. Jace wasn’t supposed to come by today, of all days, for an impromptu visit.
Too late to do anything about that now as Magnus starts stripping and seriously hopes no other neighbors make an appearance. The last thing he needs is to end up having the cops called on him for indecent exposure.
Fortunately, everyone appears to be settled in for the evening, giving him ample time to fold all of Alec’s clothes and stuff them inside the pot of the decorative fake plant. Again, not his proudest moment, but he’s acting on pure adrenaline and desperation here.
Once the potion takes effect, he feels his body fold over quickly and sink to the ground, his field of vision transforming until he’s just a few inches high. The fur provides some extra warmth as he curls up outside Alec’s door, making himself into a cozy ball to combat the building’s distressingly cold air-conditioning.
Alec appears about a half an hour later, pausing and frowning as he spots him.
“What are you doing out here?”
His hands carefully scoop him up as he takes him inside where the TV is already blaring, some apparent sports match being broadcast. Jace is lounging on the couch with a bowl of chips in his lap, blissfully unaware until Alec closes the door behind him none too gently.
“Jace,” he says sharply, “did you accidentally leave the door open? I told you to be careful if you came over.”
Jace blinks up at him in confusion, quickly lowering the TV’s volume and setting the chips aside.
“Huh? I didn’t. I swear I closed it right after I came in.”
“Then why was he outside when I got home?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was that other guy.”
Alec’s eyes narrow a bit, and Magnus can feel his arms clenching a little too tightly around his tiny body.
“What other guy?”
“Asian guy with the mohawk thing. He was wearing your favorite jacket.”
…Oh. Oh, that was exceptionally stupid of him. Magnus really should have picked something Alec never wears but had gravitated instead to what smelled the strongest like him. It’s his fault for operating on cat-brain instincts instead of logic.
Now, Alec’s brow is furrowing like he’s trying to connect all the conspiracy threads in his head.
“What Asian guy? My jacket’s in–”
Alec pauses and sets Magnus down before heading towards his closet and immediately finding the empty hanger. Sure enough, the jacket is gone, along with a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of trainers. They would have been placed back in their respective spots if Magnus had arrived just a few minutes earlier. Or if Jace hadn’t stopped by at all. It’s like the universe is conspiring to get him caught.
“Just say you had a guy over. It’s not a big deal.”
“I didn’t have anyone over,” Alec practically growls between clenched teeth.
Alec’s fingers are shaking slightly at the ends as he continues to review his closet. He then starts going in and out of rooms and checking all his drawers and cupboards in panic. Magnus feels terrible for making him feel this paranoid in his own apartment. He needs to think of a better way to handle his transformations or maybe come clean.
Eventually.
For now, he curls up out of sight on Alec’s bed, burrowing under the sheets and trying to will the evening to get better.
It does not.
Cops arrive. Statements are taken. The cops promise to do better with their surveillance. Jace and Alec argue, and it leaves Alec in a terrible mood after.
Magnus ends up stewing further in his guilt, even as Alec drags him closer and tries to calm himself down by running his fingers over his fur. He can tell Alec is still very anxious from the way he refuses to lie back, his eyes blinking open immediately every time they start to shutter close. Eventually, he falls asleep, but his restlessness keeps him tossing and turning through the night and accidentally slinging an arm too hard against Magnus, forcing Magnus to sleep a little further away.
The whole day had just been a consummate mess, and Magnus is not sure how long he can sustain whatever madness he’s trying to accomplish by being here. He wanted to make Alec feel less lonely, but he’s starting to drive him insane instead.
☆☆☆☆☆
There’s a ghost in his apartment. Alec has never been more sure of it because there’s no way to explain the lack of forced entry and the fact that his clothes had been returned to his closet after missing for a few days. It’s just not possible.
Why would someone break in, take them, wear them, and return them? The scent is a dead giveaway because they smell unlike anything Alec owns –like heavy spice, incense, and something woodsy and exotic. It needles its way deep into his brain because he’s sure he’s smelled it somewhere before, and he can’t figure out how or when.
The only clue he has to go on is the fact that Jace had seen some other guy wearing them a few days ago, one who he described as a few inches shorter than Alec and possessing ‘a pretty enough face.’ That doesn’t sound like anyone Alec knows or has met, so why would a complete stranger be breaking into his apartment to steal his clothes and then return them?
The only sense he can make of it is that something supernatural is happening, and he guesses the ghost just doesn’t like being naked and cold sometimes. Even weirder is that Alec had installed a camera in his front door to check if anyone was going in or out, but it ended up being short-circuited pretty quickly by an electrical outage. All the footage it had captured had also been mysteriously destroyed.
Alec is half-tempted to move at this point, unsure why the ghost has decided to haunt him, of all people. His life isn’t particularly exciting, and he’s not sure he’s worthy of anyone’s supernatural vengeance. Sure, he’s done and said a lot that was wrong over the course of his life, but nothing that would piss off any dead people. It makes him extra wary of leaving the cat here by himself when he leaves for class, but he’s not sure if hiring a cat-sitter would make him feel any less crazy these days. Bringing the cat along is also not an option. He doesn’t want Ramesses to sit inside a pet carrier all day when he can stretch his legs out and roam around freely inside the apartment instead.
“Your owner’s messed up,” he groans out loud as he closes his closet doors and sinks onto the edge of his bed.
Sensing his distress, the cat trots up to his legs and weaves between them, rubbing up against his calves. It’s somewhat comforting, but Alec can’t shake off the feeling he’s not alone. That there are ghosts clinging to the walls and the roof, watching his every move.
How is he supposed to sleep like that?
If he wasn’t sure the dog would eat the cat, he’d adopt one of those too to keep surveillance. Of course, if his cat were more vigilant, Alec could just entrust the responsibility to him, but Ramesses is a lush. He loves to lie around all day and be spoiled. Alec can’t imagine him scaring visitors off or attacking them on command.
At least, the cat always seems to come back to him after his little adventures. It’s one small silver lining to this whole debacle, and Alec clings tightly to it because he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if Ramesses didn’t.
He picks the cat up and sets him on the bed, fingers moving along the curve of his head to calm his own rapidly beating heart. Maybe he should set up more cameras. Maybe even set up some kind of trip wire or have Jace come on his day off and keep watch.
Is that too much? It’s not like he even knows when the intrusion happens. The first time had been when he was just a few feet away in the shower, and Alec hadn’t even heard or noticed anyone moving around the apartment.
“You don’t think we have ghosts, do you?”
The cat’s head tilts slightly to one side, ears perked up before it trots up to the side of the bed Alec usually sleeps on. Ramesses then slowly stretches his paws out in front of him, kneading the blankets before sitting like a glorified sphynx.
“Okay, okay, message received. You want to go to sleep.”
Alec doesn’t think he can, but he’ll try. He’s more wired and worked up than drowsy, and every time he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear whispers and muffled voices, which he realizes is probably just the lady upstairs.
Yet knowing and believing that are two entirely different concepts at the moment. He’s sure there are spirits imbued into all his belongings, wrathful, petty ones that want to move all his framed photos a few inches from their normal spot or mix up the order to his shoes.
Sleep does eventually come to him if only because worrying manages to take up enough energy to thoroughly exhaust him, but he keeps jolting at every single scuffle and shift of the wind. The cat sleeps more heavily next to him, his body curling in tighter on himself until Alec can barely tell Ramesses apart from all the other shadows in his room. He ends up resting a hand on the cat’s back –just in case– as if to convince himself the cat won’t get up and wander off in the middle of the night. It’s enough reassurance to let him finally fall asleep for more than a few minutes at a time, although he dreams that night of dancing with a shadow that moves like silk around his body. It feels unbelievably good, pressing into all of Alec’s joints and creases, moving cool fingers across his muscles and whispering warm air into the crook of his neck.
The first few rays of sunlight peeking through his window rouse him a few hours later, and he feels something soft against his jaw his body registers as probably being the cat. His fingers tighten a little unconsciously against the cat’s torso as he shifts closer, following the smooth line of Ramesses’ spine and feeling the small dents between his vertebrae. He doesn’t stop trailing them downwards expecting to reach the spot where his tail should be.
Should be.
There’s no tail there.
His eyes open wide, shock making him freeze in place as he sees the outline of someone’s face in the dark, someone he can’t make out. All synapses in his brain start firing at once in panic as he jerks away from them and scrambles out of bed, looking for something to hit the intruder or ghost with. His hands end up latching onto a bottle of lotion that he throws because he’s operating on not enough sleep and way too much anxiety at this point.
“Who the fuck are you?!”
The figure stirs almost instantly, and Alec has enough sense to turn on the lamp before his gaze freezes in place.
He not only has a stranger in his bed, but the stranger is very naked. Very naked and very beautiful. Which is almost enough to convince him he’s still having one very messed up dream. Any moment now, his high school marching band is going to burst through his closet door, and his AP Calculus teacher is going to announce he has to take a test he didn’t study for. That’s got to be where all this is leading to.
“Did you really throw a lotion bottle at me?” the man grumbles as he rubs a hand over his head.
“Are you kidding me now?!”
Does Alec have to point out who snuck into whose bedroom uninvited? Yes, this might very well be the most attractive guy he’s ever seen in his admittedly short life, but the guy still broke into his apartment to cuddle him nakedly. That’s got to be a new level of messed up.
“You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”
The man starts to move from the bed, and Alec barely has enough time to turn away and make sure he doesn’t actually see anything he’s not supposed to, which feels like an absurd concern to have at this point. Considering they were cuddling just seconds ago, they’re probably way past keeping any level of mystique between them.
“That you’ve been breaking and entering into my apartment? Where’s my cat? Did you leave the door open too while you were at it?”
Hot or not, Alec wants to strangle him, but his mind is too focused on finding Ramesses to care. He starts heading towards the front door, only for the intruder latch onto his arm.
“Alec, Alec!” he calls out, “You don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what?” Alec snaps, still refusing to whip his head around and look at him.
“I am your cat!”
What. The. Fuck.
“I am your cat!” the man repeats, fingers curling tighter around Alec’s shirt. “If you would just calm down and let me explain!”
Nope. Not happening. There’s nothing to explain. This man is crazy. Alec is crazy. Nothing makes sense, and he’s pretty sure his actual cat is somewhere alone and lost in the hallway.
He tries to pull away, but the intruder keeps a solid grip on his arm.
“Look, it was a mistake! You see, I’m a witch, and I was running away the night you found me. I drank a potion, and you thought I was a stray and–”
A witch. A witch not a cat. A witch who turned himself into a cat.
His brain can’t keep up with processing all of this, but he’s trying. In some fucked up way, it does make sense. The cat did seem exceptionally smart and cognizant of Alec’s behavior, and how else can he explain the door opening on its own and his personal items periodically disappearing? Not to mention the fact that the ‘cat’ refused to eat cat food or use the litter box.
Suddenly, all those weird eccentricities don’t seem that weird coming from a witch in a feline body, which means Alec has been talking to a person this whole time. Has been showering near, sleeping with, and cooking for an actual person. All without a single ounce of shame or self-consciousness.
The embarrassment hits him as strongly as his rage, wishing he could evaporate from the planet right now. Why did the witch even stick around? Just to humiliate him?
“Who are you really? Why didn’t you just run away when I picked you up?”
The witch frowns, and it’s way too distracting to see him standing there still naked. Alec immediately reaches for the wool throw on his sofa and tosses it over to him to give the witch some modesty back.
“I was going to,” the witch explains, wrapping the throw around his waist, “I was just overwhelmed and injured at the time. I hadn’t ever taken one of these animal transformation potions before, so all the sensations were new. Then you locked me in here for a few days, and I couldn’t exactly get out until the potion wore off. Paws aren’t really conducive to opening doors or windows.”
Okay. Okay, that makes sense. It’s Alec’s fault he picked up a stray and didn’t let him out. He guesses the witch could have probably escaped from the balcony the night his date threw him out there too, but his apartment is fairly high up. He doesn’t blame the witch for not trying.
“But the potion did wear off eventually. You escaped twice.” With Alec’s clothes, he realizes.
The witch clears his throat and glances away awkwardly, clearly struggling to come up with a better explanation. Alec isn’t sure one exists that doesn’t make both of them look unhinged.
“You could say I felt a little bad about leaving you abruptly. You seemed so… like you needed the companionship.”
Yeah, he needed the companionship of a cat. Not a fully-grown male witch who was likely judging him the entire time and thinking he was pathetic.
“I don’t need your pity,” Alec hisses out.
The witch shakes his head fast. “It wasn’t pity, I assure you. I don’t do anything out of pity. Sympathy maybe, but –and I realize this is going to seem a little odd– I felt rather connected to you.”
Connected. To him.
Something inside Alec snaps because he’s not sure what to do with himself right now. What to do about this situation. He wants to throw the witch out. Or hug him. Or hit him.
“What was even your end goal? Stay with me for a few years pretending to be a cat? Don’t you realize how insane that comes off?!”
“I didn’t think this through!” the witch yells back, “I just knew I felt something for you, as irrational as it was!”
Those words seem to punch all the rage right out of him because Alec can’t imagine why an attractive witch would debase himself like that. Why he’d make himself suffer just to stay by his side. Why he’d even waste magic just because he thought Alec was lonely. Who does that?
The witch’s gaze falls to the floor as he whispers, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
If Alec were smart, he’d make the witch leave right now and never bother him again. But he’s not. He can’t see anyone looking that downcast without his heartstrings being yanked painfully.
In the end, he’s a very stupid, very weak, and very vulnerable man.
“Who are you really?” Alec asks in a softer, more genuine facsimile of his earlier question.
The witch’s shoulders stiffen at the question, and Alec gestures to the armchair for him to sit as he takes up a spot on the sofa.
“Magnus Bane,” the witch answers once he’s settled onto the cushion, fixing the throw more tightly around his waist, “I own the occult store a few blocks west of here. Or owned rather.”
Alec thinks he knows which one. Clary mentioned going in a few times to buy all sorts of divining crystals and tarot cards from there. She’s always been into that sort of thing, fully convinced she has some psychic resonance with the universe. Knowing what he does now, maybe she hadn’t been pulling all that out of her ass.
“Why don’t you own it anymore?”
“It’s rather complicated. You see, witch trials and witch hunters have not entirely gone out of vogue since Salem like many believe. There are many orders of hunters still around, looking to send us all to eternal damnation, and they tend to find me every couple of years and chase me to a new locale.”
A witch on the run. Alec can’t imagine what sort of lifestyle that might entail. Probably the type where he’d also have to avoid getting too close to anyone. It’s easier not to forge too many bonds when he doesn’t know when and where he’ll have to disappear next.
Maybe he’d been feeling just as lonely as Alec.
“So you’re going to run away just like that?”
Magnus nods solemnly, hands clasping together on his lap. “I have no real choice. They’re persistent, and I can’t run my shop or pay rent if I’m in constant danger of being murdered at any given point.”
“What if you just laid low for a while? Seemingly disappeared and discouraged them from looking for you.”
He’s sure Magnus had already thought of that before, but it’s an alternative to him skipping town and leaving whatever life he had started here behind in Brooklyn.
“It’s not that easy. Where would I go, what would I do? I can’t impose on the other witches and put them in danger.”
Alec has a suggestion. A very dumb suggestion, but after hearing that story, he doesn’t think he can let Magnus give up on himself that easily. It’s not the sort of lifestyle anyone deserves, witch or not.
Never mind that this totally goes against all reason and logic, but loneliness makes people do and say some very absurd things.
“You can stay with me… I have a spare bedroom, and it would only be for a while, right? I mean, you were already living here for a few weeks anyway.”
Living here, watching him, occupying his same space. Alec isn’t sure if there’s any part of himself he hadn’t already shown Magnus at some point.
“I can’t impose on you like that, Alec. Also, I have no plans to turn myself back into a cat for a long while. Haven’t we both suffered enough?”
Yes, they have, but at this point, it would be too lonely and too empty without some kind of companionship. Witch, cat, or otherwise. Magnus seems… palatable enough. Not that Alec really can claim to know him, but Magnus still seems like an extraordinarily selfless person, all things considered. Or maybe the most selfish person Alec’s ever met. It’s hard to tell yet exactly how Alec truly feels about how they met.
“You don’t have to,” he ends up saying after a moment, “At least, while you’re living here. It could just be a temporary cover if you want to go out so no one knows you’re here. The rent’s covered by my father while I finish up grad school, and Clary’s looking for a job to help with school. She can run your shop in the meantime.”
Magnus’ eyes widen slightly at the suggestion. “I really can’t, Alec. It’s sweet of you to offer, but it’s too much of a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, and if you really want to pay me back, you could, I don’t know, clean up the place while I’m gone. Do laundry. That sort of thing.”
Magnus has the nerve to throw a wink at him. “A live-in maid. How kinky.”
It’s not the response Alec was expecting, and he can feel his cheeks flare up at the comment. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Magnus is still very undressed under the throw, something he’d been avoiding focusing on for the duration of this conversation, which isn’t easy. The man is devastatingly well-built for a witch, all caramel-plated thick muscle mass everywhere the throw doesn’t cover, and he has some of the warmest brown eyes Alec’s ever seen. Alec could straight-up drown in them if he isn’t too careful with himself.
“I’ll think about it,” Magnus finally replies properly.
“Good. Good. Uh, let me get you some clothes.”
That’s all he can think of to escape the sudden direction his thoughts were heading as he ducks quickly out of the living room. It’s just a year, at most. He can do this. He can live with a witch who’s sometimes a cat and who already knows all of his inner-most embarrassing thoughts.
Yeah, totally normal.
☆☆☆☆☆
Magnus isn’t sure what ultimately possesses him to agree to Alec’s offer, but it probably has a lot to do with the memory of sleeping with Alec’s abs under his face. He’s still surprised Alec even forgave him for the deceit, but that’s simply the type of person he is. Chivalrous and noble to a fault. Anyone else would have thrown him out or had him arrested, but not Alec.
Fortunately, this arrangement might actually be the most suitable for the two of them, regardless of how it started. Which isn’t to say Magnus doesn’t still have his reservations. He had pretty much lived on his own since he was a teenager and had convinced himself the nomadic lifestyle suited him, so long as he never remained in one place too long nor got to know anyone too well.
It hadn’t been until he arrived in Brooklyn that he started to feel his age catch up with him and the desire to build a real home. To have a real life. A real business. Before, he’d been content to hitchhike to wherever the mood had taken him and entertain as many partners as he felt like.
Living with Alec had given him a tempting glimpse of just the opposite. Someone who would come home to him after work and who would take care of him and allow himself to be looked after in return. Someone who was content to spill all his waking thoughts and dreams and who spends so much time thinking about and worrying over his siblings that he’d regularly demonstrated just how thoughtful and caring he could be.
It’s the last thing Magnus ever thought he needed, and he’s still struggling to convince himself that he shouldn’t just runaway anyway, but instead, he’s already halfway to packing up the more vital parts of his apartment –namely his clothes, his toiletries, his potion-making supplies, and all his spellbooks.
Alec had graciously volunteered to help him and is busy trying not to throw judgmental looks as he examines some of his more eclectic belongings.
“I’m not sure what you’d even use some of these things for.” He motions to a vial containing chicken’s feet.
“Nothing that unsavory, I assure you. I will also have you know they were harvested humanely by chickens that lived a long, fruitful life on a ranch and died of natural causes.”
Alec doesn’t look at all convinced, but he carefully places the vial in a box anyway. “How about this… knife?” He waves it in Magnus’s direction.
“Ah, that’s a 14th century baselard. It’s just for looking dramatic during any summoning ceremonies that require extra flare.”
One can’t really claim to be a witch without having an appreciation of aesthetics. He hopes if Alec learns anything from living with him, it’s that.
“Right, anything else I should put in this box?”
Magnus glances to see how full it is before gesturing to his nightstand. “Maybe empty that out.”
“Your nightstand? Isn’t that where you keep all of your… personal things.”
“No, but now I know where you keep all of yours.” Not that he hadn’t already suspected. It’s just standard across most bedrooms, but Magnus likes to be extra discreet. He also never brings dates here for the obvious reason that he has a lot of bizarre ingredients that would convince anyone who doesn’t know him well enough that he’s a serial killer on the side.
The comment does have the delightful effect of making Alec lower his head sheepishly, and he can tell by now when Alec is trying to hide a flush. It’s more adorable than any adult man should look, but Magnus is trying not to get over-invested in the idea that living with him means anything more than just that. He’d already made Alec’s life difficult enough by showing up out of the blue and parading around as his cat. He doesn’t want to add a crush into the mix, no matter how handsome, doe-eyed, and sweet Alec is.
They’re just not going down that road.
It’s something he cements thickly across his brain as he tapes up another box and starts to move it towards the door. He only makes it a few steps before his knees suddenly start to ache, and something warm rapidly blooms from his stomach outwards.
“Magnus?” Alec asks worriedly, already heading towards his side.
Magnus can’t bring himself to answer, fingers stiffening to the point where the box slips loose on the ground. He hugs his own midsection tight and feels his expression twist with pain until he falls to the ground. His body shrinks and shrinks with the impact, leaving him to crawl miserably out of his clothes, fur covering him everywhere as he does so.
“Magnus! You’re–! I thought you said–! Did you do this on purpose?”
Magnus shakes his head quickly, trotting in a slow circle and trying to figure out what just happened. His body had never spontaneously transformed on his own. Although, he may have overdone it on the potions. He had drunk so many within days of one another, and the last batch he made had been exceptionally strong in the hopes to get it to last longer. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was some weird side-effect from overdosing. He also wouldn’t be surprised if it takes a while to wear off, but he’s not sure what to do until then.
“Okay, so you can’t control it now. That’s… that’s bad.”
Magnus’ sentiments exactly, even if it’s very much his own fault he’s like this. He shouldn’t have drank so much of it at once. The risks were right there staring him in the face, written in plain Armenian. How could he be so stupid?
His face ends up stuffed between his own paws, wondering if there’s even a counter-potion to this. He’ll have to do some research when he has thumbs again, but this is really going to put a damper on packing and moving.
Alec’s hand tentatively reaches out before stopping just shy of touching his head. “It’s fine, Magnus. It’ll be okay. If it wore off once before, it will probably wear off again, and we can finish later.”
A logical move. Magnus doesn’t want to burden Alec even more than he already has, well aware this is still a lot for one person to digest, especially one who had no idea magic existed up until a few days ago.
As for what he can do in the meantime, he’s not sure. Wait it out, he supposes?
“Can I– can I still pick you up like this? Maybe we can watch some TV in the meantime?”
Does Alec really think he’ll suddenly be bothered by being touched by him? He let Alec do it enough times before without protest. A rarity, he knows, but Alec holding him feels too incredibly good for him to be rational and respectable about it.
Magnus nods and practically jumps into his arms as Alec takes him to the corner of his bed. The TV is mounted on the wall like a nice picture frame, and Alec grabs the comforter to give them some extra warmth as he tries to find a channel he thinks they both might like.
“You good like this? I could sit somewhere else? I know it’s–”
Magnus doesn’t let him finish, cutting off his babbling by crawling onto his lap and purposefully planting himself there. If this doesn’t convince Alec he’s completely okay with some of their previous affectionate behavior, then he doesn’t know what will, but he’s not going to endure months of Alec constantly asking him if he’s okay with the smallest of head pats.
“Right. Message received.”
☆☆☆☆☆
Somehow, they manage to move half of Magnus’ room into Alec’s place, though it takes a miracle to get it all there in pieces, considering Alec ends up stuck with most of the heavy lifting while Magnus keeps spontaneously turning into a cat for several hours. It’s impossible to time and completely unpredictable, so there’s nothing Alec can really do to prepare for it except keeping a spare set of clothes handy.
It’s also really bizarre to watch Magnus do it mid-conversation, but Magnus seems equally oblivious about what’s triggering it or how long he’ll be like that. Even worse is the fact that Alec is tempted to fall into some of his old habits with him like pulling him onto the bed and stroking him while he naps or telling him weird stories about his siblings. Now that he knows there is a person in there, he’s sure the stories would just bore Magnus to death.
He’d rather give Magnus his space instead of being so overbearing even if he does make an adorable cat. And an adorable human, if he’s honest with himself, though he hasn’t really ever let that thought properly ferment in his head. Considering the peculiarities around their meeting, they’re both still feeling their way around this friendship… if one could even call it that. Companionship maybe? Alliance?
Whatever it is, Alec is following the exact opposite of what the rational part of his brain is screaming at him to do by inviting him to live here. He’s not a guy who does things like this or who revels in spontaneity. He also doesn’t embrace magic or all that supernatural nonsense, but Magnus has him believing in the impossible for the very first time in his life. There’s a thrill that comes with it, one he thinks he could get addicted to if he soaks in Magnus’ world long enough.
At the very least, it feels good to take a chance on something chaotic instead of pulling away like he always does. His siblings would be proud –or genuinely shocked– if they knew. Speaking of which, his sister is supposed to stop by any second now, and Magnus is still a cat.
Alec hasn’t quite worked out how to explain the whole roommate business. And the whole witch business. Just everything. There’s a lot to explain, and he’s not even sure Izzy will believe him.
There’s always the option to slowly build to the witch part. Maybe just start with him having a roommate and hope she doesn’t ask too many questions, but it’s Izzy. Of course, she’s going to ask him questions. Like where did he come from? How did they meet? Why and how did Alec decide to let him live here? Where did his cat go?
All questions he has no logical answer for.
A knock on the door breaks his train of thought, and he motions to Magnus to stay calm on the couch before he answers. When he opens the door, Izzy immediately throws her arms around him before kissing his cheek.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought us some fresh pastries. I also picked up some cat treats on the way.”
Alec’s face pulls into a grimace as he helps her with the bags. “He doesn’t really like treats.”
“That’s because he hasn’t tried these.” She shakes the bag in Magnus’ direction which makes him immediately dart towards Alec’s room. “Oh, come on, they’re top brand. Simon’s sister’s cat loves them.”
“I told you.”
“You need to spoil him more. Get him to experience new flavors and new places. Maybe take him to the park.”
That’s the last place Alec wants to take him right now, but he’s trying hard to keep his expression neutral. Instead, he puts the pastries on a plate and starts fixing them both some light afternoon tea, already rehearsing what he’s going to say in his head.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” he starts because that seems normal enough. Nothing strange going on here.
Izzy looks wholly unconvinced, fixing him with a suspicious stare before removing her jacket and shoes. “Alright, but let me wash my hands first.”
“You know where the bathroom is.”
She disappears into his bedroom, and not two seconds later, she immediately comes running back out, her hands over her eyes.
“Alec, why didn’t you tell me there’s a guy in your bedroom??” she whisper-yells at him.
“There’s a– what?”
...Oh.
Oh fuck.
“No, that’s– that’s what I was going to tell you about. He’s not– He’s–” Fuck. Fuck. This is going badly already.
Magnus comes strolling out of the room in Alec’s clothes, playing things off far more calmly than Alec is, which is a feat. It takes a lot of skill to be caught naked and to look that effortlessly relaxed afterwards. Alec suddenly envies him.
“What Alec means to say is that I’m his new roommate. The other shower was broken, so he courteously allowed me to use his.”
Izzy still looks unconvinced, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. “Uh-huh. You used his shower and just decided to lounge on his bed for no reason.”
“What can I say? It is quite soft.”
Alec’s face falls into his waiting palm, quite sure this couldn’t possibly go any worse. So much for easing her gently into the situation.
He crosses the room and nudges Izzy into a chair before sitting next to her, trying to find a better way to explain… Magnus to her.
“So, remember the cat I found?”
“Of course, Alec, I just saw him a few seconds ago.”
Alec makes some vague gesture in Magnus’ direction, trying to detangle the words from his own tongue. There’s no way to really say this and sound like a sane person.
“The cat is Magnus. He’s a cat… or a witch really. He just turns into a cat sometimes.”
Izzy’s eyes widen slightly, seemingly processing this new information. Her lips then pull back over her teeth as she starts laughing sharply. “Okay, that’s a terrible joke, even for you. If you don’t want to fess up and tell me you’re dating someone, then don’t. No need to make up stories.”
Alec’s hands close around hers, looking her dead in the eye to try and convey the magnitude of seriousness he’s feeling right now. “I’m not lying, Izzy. Magnus is a witch who briefly turned himself into a cat that I accidentally adopted, and he’s on the run from witch hunters, so I offered to let him stay here for a while.”
The smile rapidly fades from Izzy’s expression as she once again glances back and forth between them. Alec knows it’s asking for a lot to believe him, but he rarely if ever lies about anything, least of all to Izzy.
“What? You’re serious?! How-?”
Magnus briefly disappears into his room to grab something. Alec can’t see what it is until he opens his palm and unveils a tiny fragment of rose quartz. Magnus then starts murmuring something in a language that Alec doesn’t quite understand, repeating it while swirling his other hand over it until the stone starts to slowly grow and shape itself. A few seconds later, and the stone turns into a beautiful rose-colored statue of a cat, sitting on his palm –one he happily gifts Izzy with.
“A simple spell, but I figured it would help convince you.” He tosses Alec a quick wink, which doesn’t ease the nervous clenching of his stomach muscles.
“You’re a witch!” Izzy exclaims like Alec hadn’t spent the past few minutes telling her that. “Wait, Alec had you in his apartment this whole time and didn’t know or–”
“Not for a few weeks,” Magnus explains, guilt making his expression rapidly sink, “Which was my fault really. I should have told him sooner, but I was trapped as a cat at the time.”
“I’m surprised he let you stay here. Alec’s always been reluctant to get a roommate since Jace left.”
She’s not the only one who’s surprised about that, but maybe Alec had really gotten too used to the extra company. It helps that Magnus’ mannerisms as a human aren’t that woefully different from who he is as a cat, except perhaps him being a little chattier as a human and a little less likely to bump Alec’s hands for head pets. Those things he can live with.
If there’s any real problem with living him it’s the fact that Alec can never take his eyes off of him when he’s a human. There’s something so elegant and airy about the way Magnus moves, whether he’s wrapped up in Alec’s sweats or in his own his light, silk clothing. He also looks amazing when he dresses up completely with his make-up, his face the perfect canvas for all sorts of colors, sharp lines, and matte lip rouge. Which isn’t to say he’s not naturally beautiful either, his skin always glowing, and his eyes and mouth dappled in warm colors that Alec can’t help but sink his entire existence into.
Had Alec met him under any circumstance, he– well, he honestly would have never gotten the nerve to talk to him. There’s something entirely too forbidden about Magnus, like encountering an ancient artifact in a museum, perpetually encased behind protective glass, perfect to admire but impossible to touch. He can’t tell if it’s luck or pure torture that he found Magnus on the streets that day.
“We’re slowly making it work,” Alec finally tells her because it’s the truth. He didn’t expect to be here, but now that he is, he’s wholly committed to helping Magnus.
Of course, Izzy has to upset whatever inner peace he’s barely clinging onto by asking him, “Did you tell Jace yet?”
No, obviously he hasn’t. Izzy’s easier to talk to and a lot less complicated. Jace will probably take longer to convince, even if he’s technically already met Magnus. He also might be a bit more cutthroat in telling Alec he’s being stupid and reckless at the moment, but it’s not like Jace wasn’t the same when he met Clary.
“I’m working up to it. I just think we should avoid telling too many people, least of all Simon. You know he can’t keep his mouth shut.”
Simon would definitely come over and bombard Magnus with a bunch of questions. He’d probably even ask Magnus to perform a bunch of magic tricks for him and to teach him sleight of hand or something stupid like that.
“I won’t,” Izzy promises, “Don’t you think I know him better than you? He didn’t even manage to keep the surprise party he planned for my last birthday a secret.”
Yeah, that was a fiasco no one needs to relive.
“Well, if you both have settled things,” Magnus cuts in, stealing a pastry from the plate, “I shall leave you two to chat while I continue to set my room up. I imagine it won’t be long before I end up a cat again.”
Alec hopes Magnus can at least make it through the night without transforming as he hasn’t quite recovered from the first time he woke up with Magnus naked in his bed. Any more repeat performances, and he’s sure he’ll probably lose his nerve and do or say something inappropriate. Something he really shouldn’t be doing with his brand new roommate.
Once Magnus is out of the room and out of earshot, Izzy leans forward conspiratorially, her voice lowering a few decibels. “So, he’s really cute. Why aren’t you dating him?”
You see, Alec has a really good explanation for that: “Because he’s– it’s just– too complicated. I mean, he practices witchcraft and lives this whole other life, and I need to focus on school. He turns into a cat sometimes, and the last guy I dated was barely worth the money spent on the date.”
Factor in the fact that Alec adopted Magnus as a cat before he really started to get to know him, and it’s not difficult to figure out why he doesn’t want to jump face-first into a relationship he knows will fail. The circumstances are just too weird for it not to.
“That just sounds like all the same excuses you give everytime I try to introduce you to someone. You always think they’ll be too different, or it won’t work out, so you never try.”
She’s right about that. Too right, and Alec hates to admit it. The prospect of rejection or failure have never been possibilities he could take with a stride. He’s too afraid of messing things up and of winding back alone like he has too many times already. It had taken a long time to even get over the fact that he was never going to be his parent’s model son even with his perfect academic record. Coming out to them had pretty blown a hole through that possibility.
“Even if you two seem completely different,” Izzy continues, “it could just be surface-level. Look at me and Simon. I didn’t know what a Jedi was before dating him.”
If there was ever a relationship Alec didn’t think would have lasted longer than a few hours, it’s Izzy and Simon’s, but somehow, they made it work. It helps that, for all his faults, Simon absolutely adores his sister and would never do anything to hurt her, and Izzy had been absolutely floored by his kindness and honesty, something her past relationships lacked in droves.
Still, Alec is sure dating his former-cat-turned-roommate is pretty high on the list of Terrible Ideas. If anything, they’re just starting to get to know one another as people and not as pet and owner.
“Just think about it, Alec.”
He manages a small, non-committal nod before nudging the plate of pastries closer to her, hoping it will be enough of a distraction from the uncomfortable topic surrounding his dating life. They’ve already delved into it enough times for him to recognize how unproductive this exercise is.
☆☆☆☆☆
Shifting in and out of his cat form has started to become a bit of a regular unpredictability for Magnus, one usually only predicated by his muscles cramping and his body growing unbelievably hot. Those scant seconds of warning never give him enough time to adequately prepare, which has become quite frustrating these past few days, especially when it happens while he is in the shower or in the middle of cleaning. He’d even almost caused a fire to break out in the apartment just yesterday when he accidentally knocked over a candle while turning back to a human.
As saintly as Alec has been through the process, Magnus can’t help but feel like a burden because of it, and it’s really starting to wear on Magnus because he’s sure his cat-brain and human-brain are swirling tighter and tighter around one another the more he transforms, turning both into one amorphous blob of cells inside his head. As a result, he finds himself acting more like a cat each day even while he’s still human, like tensing up with a jolt whenever he sees a dog being walked near him on the street, kneading his fingernails against the furniture, or licking his plate free of crumbs after eating. And it’s only grown worse as winter continues to barrel through the city, blizzards thrashing wind and snow against the walls and windows of the apartment, forcing him to remain bundled up indoors with no escape.
The cats upstairs have also gotten noisier as they move through their heat cycles, the stench of their desires crawling through all the layers of floor and ceiling between them and pinning its inside Magnus’ nose. While he’s fairly certain he doesn’t have the right chemical and physical make-up to actually be affected, it does make him feel oversensitive to the other smells in the apartment, which largely consist of all the places Alec has ever sat on, laid on, or rubbed up against. Magnus doesn’t think there is a single inch of this place that isn’t covered in Alec’s thriving microbes, releasing that earth-rich musk that always clings stubbornly to his hair and fingers. It’s in the air Magnus inhales into his lungs with belly-deep breaths, stippled into the seams of the sofa cushions, and ladeled everywhere on Alec’s coat, scarf, and hat hanging by the door, and it’s taking all of Magnus’ willpower not to press his nose against all the fabric in the apartment, even when he’s human, just so he could drown in Alec’s scent.
He had to outright ban himself from going anywhere near Alec’s room because it would overwhelm him too much, but the guest room doesn’t feel all that safe either. Alec had used it previously as an exercise room, and his sweat still lives on every surface, keeping Magnus’ mind endlessly folding in on itself instead of letting him sleep peacefully. The only reprieve he’s gotten out of this situation is the fact that Alec is away most of the day, so Magnus doesn’t have to be exposed to his living, moving aroma constantly circulating around him like he’s been drenched in animal pheromones specifically designed to fuck with Magnus’ self-control.
It’s not as though Magnus can even talk about it in a way that wouldn’t frighten Alec. How does one even properly articulate that they’ve turned into a cat so often they think they might have had some integral part of their internal biology affected as a result? If Alec heard that, he’d probably think Magnus was seconds away from tackling him –which is, okay, not entirely far from the truth. But he would definitely stop himself if it got to that point.
Avoiding Alec seems to be the best solution at the moment. Avoiding him and locking himself in his room, waiting for the cats upstairs to stop seducing each with their endless litany of yowls.
There’s one in particular that’s so desperate to mate, Magnus can hear her for hours throughout the day, calling out for any cat within a ten mile radius to come. How can anyone listen to that and not throw a cat in her general direction just to make her stop? If he still had access to his strays, he’d certainly encourage one to put her and himself out of their collective misery.
Instead, all he can do is drown the noise with earbuds and drown out Alec’s smell with a particularly fragrant potion, one bubbling virulently in front of him. It’s not a potion he needs, but crafting and preparing it does well to keep his mind and hands occupied. Besides, one never knows when a potion for temporary fire resistance might come in handy. Considering his earlier episode with the candle, he actually can’t think of a more appropriate endeavor at the moment.
The brew also requires careful surveillance to make sure he doesn’t boil it too strongly and wind up with the wrong consistency. His carelessness with the animal-transformation potion will likely haunt him for the rest of his life, especially if he can’t figure out a way to fix it –which is what he really ought to be working on, but all his forays into his spellbooks had more or less led him into dead ends. Or rather, the texts had indicated he would eventually recover on his own. Transformation potions are simply never meant to last, regardless of all the tall tales.
This one has just been lingering for reasons Magnus can’t fathom. It might simply be a matter of blood, as all his witch genes do run particularly strong thanks to his birth father. The man had fancied himself to be more of an esteemed sorcerer than a witch, one who’s skill in spellcraft and manipulation exceed those of his peers. Had he not also been an asshole, maybe Magnus would have enjoyed spending more time with him learning from him. As it was, Magnus had been glad to get as far away from him and his cult of followers as quickly as he was able. Being found by him might be the one thing he fears more than dealing with witch hunters.
His thoughts are broken up by the sudden blast of coiling smoke from the cauldron, and he leans forward to give the potion a smell test before realizing something is particularly off about it. Had he used all the right ingredients? He checks the recipe twice before his expression twists into a frown. It’s not like him to really miss anything, especially for a potion he’s made a dozen times already, but something is definitely not right at all.
He checks all the ingredient bottles around him next before grabbing a wooden spoon to scoop up a bit of the potion, watching as it cascades back into the cauldron in thick, thick globules. It looks absolutely wretched.
“Those cats are obviously getting to me.”
Those cats and their incessant mating calls.
His lips press together tight before he grabs a pair of hand towels to carry the cauldron out to the kitchen. It’s still bubbling warmly under his chin and making his skin feel hot everywhere as he turns on the tap as cold as it can go. With any luck, the smell will be gone by the time Alec gets home, not that it ends up doing much to really expunge Alec’s aroma from the apartment. Magnus can still pick him out sharply between tendrils of the failed potion’s stench, making him feel disoriented really quickly. He shouldn’t have left his room at all.
It’s too late to grouse about it now as he tries to scrub the cauldron clean quickly, only he realizes too late exactly why he’d been feeling so uncomfortable and off-kilter just moments ago.
“Not now,” he manages to groan, but his knees fold fast, his body collapsing to the floor as he curls in on himself.
Within seconds, he feels his bones contract and his joints ache as he shrinks until he’s crawling free of his clothes. The sink water is still going, so he has to jump onto the counter to try and turn it off with his paws, which he manages after a few tries.
He then turns to scurry safely back to his room, but he’s bludgeoned too hard by Alec’s scent, smelling it woven into all the pots and pans he cooks with on a daily basis, his fingers constantly working firmly over their handles. There’s also Alec in the half-drunk mug still sitting near the coffee maker from that morning, lining the places his lips and breath touched. There’s Alec on the towels he dried his hands with after spilling a few errant coffee drops on them, and Alec in the refrigerator magnets he fiddled with while cooking.
Magnus’ body is getting drunk on him fast, weaving through the apartment like he’s wandering through a dream and letting himself be magnetized to the couch cushion. There is a huge spot where Alec sat in earlier, one that smells like he had lied across it after a fresh shower. His shampoo, his aftershave, and his body wash all coat every layer of the cushions, egging Magnus to wantonly rub against them.
The door to his room left slightly ajar beckons him further, promising a garden of even more unique Alec scents, and Magnus doesn’t have the power to resist. He trots inside like he’s still possessed and finds Alec in all the sheets, the places he’d slept, he’d lounged, he’d touched himself. It all smells so crisp and new, tasting them all the way in the back of his throat with each new inhale.
Magnus practically throws himself onto the bed, rolling back and forth over the comforter like he can somehow absorb Alec’s scent into himself if he does it enough times. Really, he’s just making himself feel dizzier and more intoxicated, mind succumbing to thoughts of Alec shrouded around him, his arms like a beloved coat he could slip into and out of as he pleases. How had he managed sleeping next to him for so long without spiraling this hard?
He’s so distracted drowning in all the whispered entreaties tangled up in Alec’s sheets that he doesn’t even notice he has company until it’s far, far too late. By then, he’s shed cat hair all over the comforter and is caught with his paws in the air and his back contorted mid-roll.
“...Are you...okay?” Alec asks slowly
No, he’s obviously not. The cats are in heat upstairs, and he’s losing his mind. Which is probably the last thing Alec wants to hear about after a long day of school and work, so Magnus forces himself to move off the bed.
And promptly starts weaving between his legs because Alec’s jeans smell way too good for him not to.
“I don’t– Are you hungry? Tired? I saw your pot-thing in the sink.”
Cauldron, Alec. It’s a cauldron. No other man could ever wear cluelessness as well as Alec does, and it’s doing a lot of things right for Magnus at the moment.
So are Alec’s hands as they reach down to scoop him up and carefully place him on his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. Magnus can’t help his body from purring instantly, feeling it rumble through him like rolling thunder which seems to startle Alec.
“Wow, that’s– I mean, you usually build up to purring, and your eyes, they’re really big right now.”
Oh, Magnus can only imagine, but he’s having a hard time controlling himself as he pushes his face against Alec’s shirt and just inhales all of him at once. It’s divine. Like smelling the flowers of Eden or tasting the world’s oldest wine. It hits him square in the stomach, and Magnus wishes so hard he wasn’t a cat at the moment.
Or maybe being a cat is actually a good thing. He’s quite sure this would be at least a hundred times more inappropriate if he weren’t.
It’s bad enough his whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s dying for Alec to touch him more. He wants to tell him he can. Whatever Alec desires. Whatever he needs or wants. If he could just–
Alec’s ringtone goes off loudly, the shock potent enough to make him remember himself. Where he is. What he was about to do.
His whole body goes rigid as he watches Alec quickly answer it.
“What is it, Jace?”
Magnus doesn’t wait to hear any more of the conversation, darting as fast as he can back to his room before working his own door shut by bumping it a few times with his head. It’s not entirely efficient, but it gets the job done. More importantly, it creates a solid barrier between him and temptation because he thinks he’d been about ready to seduce Alec as a cat, which is creepy on so many levels.
Not that Alec would have known, as adorably oblivious he is about a lot of things, but Magnus has to get a hold of himself. No more coming out of his room until the upstairs cats get whatever they need to out of their system.
Unfortunately Alec shows up outside of his door moments later, knocking softly. “Magnus, are you sure you’re okay?”
Even if he could answer him, what would he even say? Probably lie to him like he always does, which is not what Alec deserves.
I’m sorry, Alec.
He slips under his own comforter and stays curled up in there, waiting for him to go away.
☆☆☆☆☆
Something is going on with Magnus, and Alec can’t figure out what, although it’s probably none of his business. They’re roommates –barely friends–, and aside from a few scant details, Alec can’t claim to have any intimate knowledge about Magnus’ personal life. He is, however, worried that whatever it is might have to do with Magnus’ health because it’s not like him to be this avoidant and reclusive.
Is his transformation getting worse? Is he coming down with something else? He knows Magnus doesn’t want to be a burden to him, but Alec is a natural worrywort. If something feels off to him, it nags and nags until he can’t sleep or concentrate on anything else. He’s been trying to get himself to ignore said worry and relax, but his thoughts keep drifting away from the textbook held poised between his fingers to the utter lack of noise and activity down the hall.
It doesn’t help that his internship had been particularly stressful that day with the head attorney on a time crunch to get all his witness depositions in order before his upcoming trial, meaning Alec had to spend an extraneous amount of time turning the man’s garbled notes and fuzzy recordings into something any normal person could actually read. His head hasn’t stopped aching all day, and losing sleep isn’t going to make it any better.
Eventually, he realizes lying in bed trying to study is a lost cause and slides out from under his covers, hoping some tea might help him relax. A bit of light spills out from Magnus’ room, the door left open a crack, and he tells himself to ignore it. Tells himself to just continue on his path to the kitchen and mind his own business. But he can’t. That nagging feeling returns in full force that Magnus might actually need help, so Alec does the illogical thing and creeps towards the door to check.
His fingers nudge the wood a little further to get a better look, unsure what he’s expecting to find. Certainly not Magnus curled up in his cat form on the ground, seemingly dead asleep to the world, which is odd. Even at his ...cat-tiest of transformations, he’d never been one to sprawl out on the floor like that with his tongue practically hanging out. Moving him should be the last resolution on his mind, but Alec’s body is long past the point of listening to his brain.
He widens the door crack so he can slide into the room and carefully pick up Magnus, setting him on his bed. Magnus’ stomach does feel warmer than usual under his hand, making Alec think he might have some kind of fever. How does one measure a cat’s temperature? Okay, he can think of one way, but he’s not doing that to Magnus, least of all while he’s sleeping.
Maybe he can just stay here for a bit longer and watch over Magnus, having pretty much done the same to Izzy and Max when they all still lived together and when the two of them were feeling unwell. Izzy especially loved to cuddle against him whenever she was feeling particularly achy and congested.
His fingers idly slide over Magnus’ head, hoping it might bring Magnus some comfort, although he probably should get it through his skull that Magnus is actually a grown man, perfectly capable of taking care of himself. It’s just that it’s really hard to reconcile the two versions of him when Magnus looks this small and defenseless. He definitely wouldn’t have considered doing this if Magnus were still in his human body.
To his surprise, Magnus starts purring gently in his sleep, the sensation causing his body to tremble pleasantly against Alec’s side. It’s relaxing in a way that tea could never be, like feeling his own body drift along gentle waves. Alec’s eyes grow heavier each second he lingers on Magnus’ bed until he feels himself gradually surrender to the encroaching darkness.
When he opens his eyes again, he’s sure he’d only dozed off for about an hour. The street lights are still lit up outside of Magnus’ bedroom window, and Magnus hasn’t stirred at all next to him. Alec likely would have slept in the same spot until morning if not for the sudden dramatic shift in weight next to him, signaling Magnus had reverted back to being human and is now making Alec’s arm go numb by sleeping on top of it. Alec tries to gently pull it free, but even the slightest movement makes Magnus’s body roll closer towards him, his bare flesh starting to press hot and sticky against Alec’s sleep clothes.
Alec peeks over to his side to make sure Magnus isn’t awake, only to find himself rooted and spellbound by the serene expression mapped across his face. While he’d always suspected Magnus to be a few years older than him, the witch looks barely a day over twenty with his facial features smoothed out, lips parted, and eyes twitching through the throes of some captivating dream. Alec’s fingers itch to trace along the slope of his nose and chart a course over his lips, rubbing back and forth over the pronounced bow.
A dangerous thought, he realizes quickly. One that makes him try to detangle himself quicker from Magnus’ limpet-like grip on his body. If Magnus wakes up, he’s probably going to wonder why the hell Alec is even here to begin with when he promised to give him his space and privacy while he was living here. Alec had just gotten so caught up worrying about him that he didn’t think and now–
His thigh brushes against something hard, and he feels the precise moment his thoughts all fray to pieces. Magnus is wrapped all around him. He’s dead asleep, breathing slowly into Alec’s neck, curling his fingers in his shirt, hips pushed into the meat of his own muscles, completely aroused –while wrapped all around him.
Alec sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, mentally cursing himself because fuck, this was a bad idea, and it’s taking all his will power to keep his heart from jolting out of his chest in shock. If Izzy really wanted to know why he hasn’t asked Magnus out it’s precisely because of this right here. He’s a mess around beautiful men. He’s all the chaotic energy of the universe condensed into one miserable sac of flesh. He says dumb things to them. He makes even dumber choices.
And now he can’t figure out how he’s supposed to walk away from Magnus when he’s like this.
Maybe if he just moves really quickly, Magnus won’t notice or might think he’s dreaming. It’s a terrible plan, but it’s the only one he’s got. There’s not really much time and opportunity to think of something better because Alec can feel his own lower body stirring, reminding him he hasn’t had sex in close to a year now.
Okay, he’s doing this.
His muscles tense up as he pulls his arm and body free forcefully before launching himself off the bed. Something gets knocked over by his foot, but he doesn’t care, determined to run and not look back. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get very far, his feet slamming into a stack of books that trips him up and sends all six feet and three inches of him falling heavily to the ground.
Magnus’ lamp flickers on at that moment, and he can hear Magnus stirring more loudly behind him as the bed sheets are moved around, probably to give him some modesty. Alec could use the same about now.
“Alec?” Magnus asks softly.
It’s probably not a good idea to turn around and look at him, but Alec’s brain died mere seconds ago.
“I–,” he starts then stops, blinking slowly. Even though Magnus is perfectly human everywhere else he can see, his eyes are bright gold, practically glowing in the lamp light. “Those are new.”
Magnus frowns in confusion before quickly leaning over to grab a mirror from his nightstand. His fingers then pull at the skin around his eyes, looking alarmed.
“I assume that’s not supposed to happen. You can talk to me about what’s going on, Magnus.”
A curse falls from Magnus’ lips, something whispered in a language Alec can’t understand, before he covers his face.
“I can’t, Alec, it’s too– it’s too strange.”
Stranger than all the things he’s already told him about? Alec highly doubts that.
“What if I told you something weird about me? Would that make you feel better?”
Two of Magnus’ fingers spread apart, his gaze peeking out between them. “It might.”
Alright, Alec can do that, if it helps to put Magnus more at ease and get him talking. He’s sure he has some weird secrets somewhere inside of him… only he can’t really think of anything on the spot like this when his pulse is still rippling violently under his skin.
“My full name is Alexander Gideon Lightwood?”
He fully deserves the unimpressed look that Magnus is giving him in response.
“That’s your deep, dark secret? Although, frankly, I don’t know why you don’t just go by Alexander all the time. Alexander the Great, Alexander McQueen, Alexander Hamilton, Alexander Godunov… it’s quite a powerful name.”
Hearing his full name used to remind him of all the times his mother snapped at him when he was a child, but hearing it from Magnus’ lips makes it sound so sensual and evocative. It shouldn’t make his stomach flip so hard, but it does.
He swallows thickly before forcing himself to concentrate. There has to be something more embarrassing he can bring up to make Magnus feel better about whatever he’s going through.
Of course, his brain lands on the worst memory– “Junior high, I started having feelings about other boys my age, and Jace was always around...”
His face twists into a slight grimace, remembering how weird that had felt because Jace had already been living with them for a few years. Alec should have seen him as his brother, but he was so confused at the time. He didn’t know what to do when his eyes kept landing on hard muscles and adam’s apples instead of all the things he was told he should like.
“I had– I thought I liked him for a long time. I think Izzy suspected it too, but she never said anything to either him or me about it.”
Whatever it was he felt at the time, Alec had been hoping to take it with him to the grave. Even hearing himself speak of it out loud right now fills him with residual shame, not because Jace is also a guy. The two of them have become best friends and brothers over the years in a way that runs thicker than blood. Alec would never want to do anything that would put a strain on their relationship, never mind that he had the worst time getting over those feelings, leaving him to resent everyone Jace dated.
Magnus’ face softens as he takes those words in, his body leaning forwards a bit like he wants to reach out to him as he responds. “There’s no reason to hate yourself for it, Alexander. You were young and filled with all these blossoming new emotions. It was only natural you’d project them on someone close and safe to admire.”
He knows that now, but he’d been devastated at the time.
“I just didn’t want him to see me any differently or anyone to be disgusted by me. I wanted so badly to be what I thought was normal at the time.”
He can’t bring himself to meet Magnus’ gaze anymore, but he can hear Magnus moving even closer.
“You are perfectly normal. And kind and thoughtful. I don’t think you deserved to ever feel like you were less than anyone else for what you went through.”
Alec’s mouth quirks up slightly even as he tries not to stew deeper in his own self-resentment. He hadn’t expected Magnus to be so understanding about it, but it does make him feel a little better finally getting it out in the open. Anyone else would have likely thought him revolting for crushing on his adopted brother.
“Alright,” Magnus murmurs after a moment, probably sensing Alec really doesn’t want to elaborate any further on the topic, “I suppose I do owe you some kind of explanation for my erratic behavior as of late in exchange. I have been attempting to research how to undo the potion’s effects but have not quite found a resolution. Instead, I have been feeling some of the cat behavior and instincts bleeding into my human form, which can be a bit… frustrating.”
That’s it? That doesn’t seem so bad. Alec doesn’t know why he’d been so worried and panicked about the potion making him look and act more cat-like lately.
“We’ll figure something out, Magnus. You won’t be like this forever.”
“Oh, you’ve done far too much for me already. Besides, I have not even touched upon some of the weirder effects.”
Weirder than the cat eyes? Alec frowns a bit as he tries to search for any other abnormalities on Magnus’ body, though he stops himself just short of looking too hard. He hasn’t quite forgotten that Magnus is naked under his comforter, and the parts of him that he can see are still obliterating his ability to make responsible life choices.
“It’s nothing physical,” Magnus tells him, catching his wandering gaze quickly, “Or I should say, nothing visible to your eyes.” He watches as Magnus steals his breath and clears his throat a little. “You know how the cats upstairs can sometimes get quite a bit loud and rambunctious this time of the season?”
Now that Magnus mentions it, Alec has noticed them fighting a lot more and yelling in the middle of the night. He just assumed they were hungry.
“The old lady must be out of town or something.”
“Think a little bit more about the season-part of what I just told you, Alexander.”
Alec tries to, but he’s not sure what that has to do with anything.
“It’s winter. You think they’re acting that way because they’re cold?”
Magnus’ eyes shut for a moment, his fingers climbing to one of his ears, tugging at it irritably.
“The females are in heat,” he ends up blurting out.
Female cats… in heat. Okay, he’s starting to see where this is going, and his face is flaring up a little because he’s not sure how to approach the next question he wants to ask. It sounds crazy even when he tries to bounce the words around inside his head.
“Do you want to… be with them? As a cat, I mean.”
Magnus immediately shakes his head at that, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Please don’t ever suggest that again. In spite of the sporadic transformations, my mind is still very much human. I imagine it’s just a case of biological wires being crossed and hardly anything you should worry about.”
“But you want to mate. That’s what you’re telling me, right?”
Not with cats but with other humans.
Alec thinks he can hear all the blood vessels in his body constricting at once. His fingers dig into his own knees as he struggles not to combust where he’s sitting.
“I maybe wouldn’t phrase it that way. I have no desire to have any offspring, but in essence, yes, there are some mating-like behaviors working their way through my system. Things normally triggered by strong scents.”
That’s something Alec thinks he can fix. He’ll just clean the apartment really well and get rid of anything that smells particularly strong.
“Great, we just need to find your scent triggers then.”
Magnus’ eyes fall towards the bed spread, looking extremely uncomfortable again, which Alec doesn’t blame him for. Developing sudden mating urges is… a lot.
“I can take out the trash,” Alec continues, “and find you unscented soap. Get rid of any flowers. What else?”
“It’s you,” Magnus answers plainly.
Two words that smash into Alec from all angles because he doesn’t know what to do with that information. What does it even mean? Is Magnus getting worked up over his smell because he’s attracted to him, or is he attracted to him because of his smell? Are any of those two sentiments even mutually exclusive from the other? Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s both.
How is he supposed to even fix that?!
“See, this is why I did not want to tell you. You would start panicking and avoiding me, and this is your place. It’s really I who should leave. After all, It’s not your fault I am like this in the first place.”
He’s right. It isn’t, but Alec still somehow feels like it is. If he hadn’t gotten it into his head to pick up and adopt a stray that day, neither of them would be in this mess.
The strange thing is he’s not even angry about that fact nor would he take it all back. Yes, Magnus and this whole situation is strange, but he–… he likes it. He really likes it. Against all logic and reason, Alec would rather live like this than go back to his solitary and pedestrian lifestyle.
His body suddenly scoots right up to the edge of the bed, grabbing Magnus’ hands in his own as he looks up at him. He can see himself painted clearly in the darkest parts of Magnus’ eyes.
“You don’t have to go. Maybe I can help with this, too.”
Alec is not entirely sure what he himself is offering, but he thinks he has an idea of what. Truthfully, it’s the furthest thing from a burden to him. He’d have to be clinically dead to think so.
“Alexander, I can’t ask you to do that.”
Alec’s fingers tighten around Magnus’, trying not to take the escape Magnus is offering. He could simply back away and pretend he meant nothing by those words, but something in Magnus’ expression is making him want to be bold for once. Is making it feel impossible to run from whatever he’s starting to feel for Magnus.
“Ask me. Whatever you need, just ask me.”
Magnus’ lips move a few times, but no words come out. It’s obvious he’s just as hesitant because there are a lot of complicated factors at play here, and Alec wouldn’t blame Magnus if he turned him down.
Eventually, Magnus ends up cupping his face and pulling him close, leaning down so their foreheads touch. His skin is still unbearably feverish all over, and Alec can feel it practically burn through him.
“You know I would love to. I really would, but this isn’t something we should jump into because I am currently going through the spell’s endless parade of side-effects. I want to know you.”
His thumb brushes back and forth against Alec’s cheek, a soothing gesture that feels a little misplaced. Or rather– Alec is the one who should be calming him down instead.
“And I want to be fully conscious and in control,” Magnus continues, “when– if we ever get to that point.”
Alec nods slowly, realizing exactly how unideal the circumstances are. Magnus is in a vulnerable place, and the two of them just started living together. There’s no way it wouldn’t be awkward afterwards, and jumping straight into bed with his past dates had been exactly what doomed all his relationships to die so quickly.
For once, Alec doesn’t want things to end quickly. Granted, resisting kissing him right now is taking all the will power left in his body.The same is probably even truer for Magnus.
“Okay, would you at least maybe have dinner with me when you’re feeling better?”
The invitation shouldn’t come as a shock to Magnus, but Magnus still responds to it with a subtle widening of his eyes. This is definitely neither the time nor place to be asking for a date, but Alec’s already determined he’s going all in on his poor decision-making tonight. Besides, when a guy decides to turn into a cat repeatedly just to keep another company, that’s got to mean something big, right?
“I would love to,” Magnus answers after a moment, his lips slowly pulling into a soft smile that Alec wishes he could etch straight into the backs of his eyelids, just so he can revisit the image every time he closes his eyes.
“Great… great. I should– I should probably really go now.”
Before both of them lose their resolve because knowing Magnus is very much eager and willing with just a small blanket left as a physical barrier between them is not the kind of information that Alec can easily push to the back of his mind. He’s trying, but he’s bound to fail because Magnus doesn’t have to do more than just look at him to make him feel dizzy and breathless. He only pauses on his way out to fix the books and items he knocked over before closing the door to Magnus’ room for him.
☆☆☆☆☆
It takes an extra day or two for the cats upstairs to find some semblance of serenity and for Magnus to finally get a decent night of sleep. He’d spent most of his time since his confrontation with Alec holed up in his room, only coming out to take care of all his body’s required functions. The lack of any proper physical relief had just started to make him extremely lethargic, leading him to oversleep by a disturbing amount, and he’s been avoiding any mirrors out of worry of what he might see in them when he looks. The last thing he needs is to discover he’s grown whiskers or cat ears on top of everything.
Fortunately, by the third day, he’s feeling far more refreshed and had treated himself to a long bath because it’s just been that kind of week. Alec’s still at the library, likely fighting the urge to pull another all-nighter after struggling to balance so much studying with his internship (and probably trying to make himself scarce for Magnus’ sake, if he’s honest with himself). Magnus had barely even heard him rifling around the apartment the past few days, leaving him to worry that Alec might be overworking himself and barely getting sleep.
It’s his own fault for adding to Alec’s stress by behaving so unhinged and for not really considering the kind of pressure he must be under at the moment. Alec had looked after him without complaint through all his spontaneous transformations and had even made sure Magnus had settled comfortably into his room, providing him with all the extra toiletries, towels, and blankets he could find. In spite of his claim that his parents had simply given him and Jace too many amenities when they had first moved in, Magnus still feels like the generosity is overwhelming, especially when he hasn’t been able to reciprocate.
With the promise of a nice dinner between them still lingering unfulfilled, Magnus at least hopes to thank him properly by trying to make him some of his late mother’s favorite recipes. He’d even braved the supermarket earlier to buy all the necessary ingredients, a task he had fortunately managed without incident, though he’s trying not to get too overconfident about that fact. Just because he hasn’t changed into a cat in a while, it doesn’t mean he’s completely cured.
His plan is to prepare his mother’s bakso with a side of satay, two dishes he can’t recall ever having made for any of his dates before –although, calling this a date might be far too presumptuous. Even if Alec had expressed some interest in taking their tenuous friendship in that direction, it’s still too early to tell whether or not they have any feelings that extend past superficial attraction.
Although, for Magnus’ part, he knows that this isn’t just a crush that will wane over time, which is what makes him feel like he’s constantly walking on coals around Alec. He doesn’t know how to be vulnerable in front of someone again, and the prospect still scares him even if Alec has been nothing but kind and patient with the worst of his odd behaviors so far. Had even accepted the more exotic parts of lifestyle like they were little more than footnotes hastily etched into Magnus’ biography.
Alec’s simply–… different from anyone Magnus has ever known. And Magnus is still trying to convince himself that that’s a good thing. That Alec won’t squeeze his heart between his fingers until all his blood comes gushing out of it. That he’ll want something more.
It took him a while to even catch onto just how serious his own feelings were for Alec –he had felt them crash into him from behind like a storm-stirred wave the moment Alec had said the words ask me the other night– , and Magnus knows now he can’t just fall into bed with him easily and pretend it never happened the morning after like he’d done with countless lovers in the past. He wants to take his time for once, to see what’s there and see if it’s worth holding onto.
Thoughts of escaping New York have also started to fade as of late, making Magnus want to surrender to his yearning for a true home. Maybe once long ago he would have called his homeland that, but truthfully, it hadn’t felt like a home since his parents passed away. In every other city he’d lived in since then, he’d also felt like a visitor, drifting aimlessly through time, uncaring if he left a permanent mark in someone’s memory or not.
This is the first time he hasn’t wanted to be forgotten. The first time he’d wanted to be someone’s cherished memory and not someone thought of as fun but ephemeral, only to be adored and celebrated in the moment like fireworks exploding across the sky. He wants to be cyclical, ever-present, an expectation rather than a wish, the moon to someone’s blanket of stars, sharing the same endless tapestry every evening until time collectively dissolves both their luminosities.
Of course, Magnus could be getting carried away with his own hopes. His heart’s been broken countless times before, the promise of ‘forever’ a lie he’d told himself just to keep dating until he’d abandoned the idea altogether and had pledged himself to the throes of wherever his Id had decided to guide him. A new bed every other night, a beautiful face, male, female, everything outside and in between, hands gripping his torso like he’d crumble if they tried to hold onto him any tighter.
But the desire to at least try has returned, no matter how precarious, and it’s preying upon Magnus’ better judgment because he’s cooking, of all things, for someone. The news still comes as a shock to himself whenever he stops to think about how he could have easily left the city by now and taken haven anywhere else across the continent. Instead, he’d chosen to stay simply because Alec had looked like he had sincerely wanted him here.
In all the times he’s fled from city to city, he can’t ever remember anyone asking him to stay.
It’s something he hopes Alec doesn’t come to regret, but Magnus still can’t shake off the idea that he’s caused Alec so much stress already. A single dinner will probably not be enough to compensate for all of it, but it’s more of a gesture to let him know that whatever Alec is feeling doesn’t only flow one way. That Magnus is also here for him whenever he needs.
Once the satay are finished, he lets them cool down on a large plate before checking to make sure the broth for his bakso is palatable enough. If all else fails, there is a very nice take-out place down the corner of Alec’s building that he’s trying very hard not to consider phoning at this hour. He just wants this to go somewhat decently, though he knows he could never be the cook his mother was, which he’s sure doesn’t stop the woman from judging him through her afterlife.
Magnus is so busy fretting, he misses the front door opening and only registers Alec is home by the time his feet shuffle tiredly to the kitchen.
“I was wondering what smelled so good from out in the hall. Didn’t think it would be coming from our apartment.”
Magnus smiles while quickly preparing two large bowls so he can place the meatballs, beansprouts, and other ingredients inside before dousing them with warm broth. Steam billows out across his face as he does so, along with a scent he proudly declares as Good Enough in his brain before he glances at Alec.
“I know you’ve been busy lately studying and with your internship, and I was hoping rather than us going to dinner, I would, more or less, bring it to you. In your apartment.”
Surprising Alec at his work might have been more romantic, but Magnus isn’t taking his chances spending long swaths of time outdoors with all his sporadic transformations.
“Oh, so this is a date?”
Something about the way he phrases it makes Mangus’ stomach clench, and he tugs on his own earlobe without thinking. “If you want it to be. If not, consider it just a kind gesture from your sometimes-feline roommate.”
A terrible save. He’s regretting saying it now because what if Alec does pick the latter. He may have terribly misread his meaning the other day, and this dinner-date may be an unfortunate mistake he will hopefully laugh about in fifty years.
“No, no,” Alec cuts in, breaking him out of his self-doubt quickly, “I was just surprised. That’s all. I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”
How could he forget? It’s not everyday one gets asked out to dinner by a rich, handsome lawyer-to-be, especially when it follows a bizarre confession about Magnus’ misplaced mating desires. Okay, reviewing that information in his head does make it obvious exactly why Magnus would have wanted to forget that evening.
“I know it’s not exactly a five-star culinary experience, and it’s been a few years since I last made this–”
He’s talking fast and waving his hands as he does so until Alec’s fingers land around his wrists to stop him from fretting. Magnus can get a little too animated when his nerves act up, even with a wooden spoon still latched in his grip. Sheer luck may have prevented it from flying away and taking one of Alec’s eyes out.
“I’m sure it’s perfect. I didn’t even know you cooked.”
Magnus shrugs lightly, pretending it’s not that big of a deal. “I dabble here and there, whenever the mood catches me. Please be a dear and help me carry the dishes to the table.”
They end up setting everything on the dining table that generally goes unused because they both either eat separately in their rooms, on the couch, or at the counter. With a table mantle spread across it and some flowers Magnus had picked out on his earlier venture to the grocery store, the dining area looks oddly domestic for once. All it’s missing is one of them in an apron and the other in a smoking jacket, working his way through a 1950s pipe.
“Indonesian right?” Alec asks while sitting himself down in the space directly across from him.
It makes Magnus’ mouth quirk up at the edges to learn that Alec had been paying that much attention to him, especially since Magnus hadn’t really spoken much of his home country before. He’s sure whatever Alec had gleaned of it had been through bits dropped haphazardly in conversation or through all the photos Alec had helped him pack up.
“How very astute of you.”
The compliment makes Alec smile a bit sheepishly before he first grabs one of the skewers to try. “Well, thank you for making the effort. I don’t think I’ve had a date cook for me yet.”
“A true shame. You’re still a growing boy, after all.”
Alec doesn’t respond to the second comment, making a soft sound around a mouthful of spicy chicken that causes all of Magnus’ neurons to tangle around one another. Alec’s eyes also shut momentarily, making a show of savoring it that might either be completely genuine or solely for Magnus’ benefit. It’s hard to tell which, but Magnus’ gaze is rooted in place, watching him.
“It’s not too spicy?” he chances.
“No, I love spicy.”
Which is a relief. So does Magnus. He doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if he made his mother’s food and had to water everything down until it’s basically flavorless.
“The broth is slightly more mild if only to balance out the spices I put in while rolling up the beef into the meatballs. The last thing I wanted to do was make you cry on our first date. Of course, if I stuck more closely to the recipe, then you probably would have. I’m convinced my mother had no sensation left in her tongue after making so many of these.”
Alec frowns a bit as he glances into the bowl in question, which is not quite the reaction Magnus had been hoping for.
“Something wrong?”
“No, it’s just I didn’t want to ask, but you haven’t really talked about any of your family up until now.”
Right. There’s a good reason for that, but it seems unfair not to tell Alec, considering he’d already met two of Alec’s siblings.
Magnus’ eyes dip, focusing on the table linen for a moment. “It’s a bit complicated, only not truly, I suppose. My extended family is still in Indonesia, but I haven’t had contact with them in quite a while. None of them were too pleased about my mother’s relationship with my birth father, who you can say I take after in the most superficial of ways.”
His mother always compared the both of them to distressing degrees, from their predilection for magic to their overindulgent tendencies.
“They disowned my mother after they found out she was carrying me out of wedlock, and well, my birth father wasn’t really the easiest man to get along with. He lied, he cheated, he stole, he may have been accused of a murder or two. Eventually, he fled the country, leaving my mother to raise an infant on her own with no money or a job. Then a wealthy Dutch businessman –my step father– took a liking to her, and they got married.”
Alec’s frown deepens as he listens, unconsciously leaning forward and drawing a hand over Magnus’. “What happened to them?”
“It was shortly after we uprooted and moved to Luxembourg. A car accident. I was only fourteen at the time, so I went straight into the foster care system. The social workers tried to contact my family back in Indonesia several times, but they wanted nothing to do with me.”
He feels Alec’s hand clench over his, his body heat filtering through all the crooks between his fingers. It does ease some of the tension around Magnus’ lungs as he breathes out, not wanting to be pitied and recognizing that this is anything but that.
It’s sympathy.
“What about your birth father?”
Magnus’ teeth clench a little, and he’s sure his own jaw and neck are covered with visible striations from where his blood vessels protrude through his skin.
“Oh, they contacted him too, and he did come to claim me. Even tried to teach me magic for a good year, but the man was and probably still is insane. He’s quite power-obsessed and had mostly wanted to use me as an extra battery for strengthening his own magic. Also, he may or may not have started a sex cult to Paimon, last I checked.”
The half-baffled/half-horrified look Alec gives him after that fun little announcement is exactly the appropriate response. One year of fatherhood from that man had been enough to convince Magnus he was just better off without his blood relatives.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and if you think any less of me–”
“I don’t,” Alec cuts in immediately, “I know your magic is not like that, and you’re not doing it because you want to hurt others or for self-gain. I’ve seen a lot of the recipes you keep. Healing potions and stuff to help people.”
Alec really is quite observant. It’s touching in a way that he’d try and learn about his magic even while Magnus has been making every effort to hide it away. He just figured it would be easier for Alec to accept him and all of this if Magnus wasn’t constantly brewing potions or casting spells in his vicinity. Of course, being so clandestine about the most important parts of himself doesn’t come very naturally to him, especially after how hard Magnus worked to come to accept and embrace all that sets him apart from everyone else.
“I should talk to you more about it. I apologize I have not been very frank about my work.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s new and different for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
Magnus can feel a smile grow unbidden across his lips as he flips the hand Alec’s is resting on top of over just so he can hold his more properly.
“I do, in many ways, envy the relationship you have with your siblings, but I know that’s not always easy either.” It would be naive and erroneous to claim Alec has had an easier life. He’d obviously grown up under a lot of pressure, as first-borns are cursed to do, with parents who would have likely reacted poorly if Alec had decided to become a dancer instead of a lawyer. At least, Magnus has always had the freedom of choice and discovery.
“It wasn’t,” Alec agrees, “I mean, things are better now, but it took a while for my parents to come around when I told them I was gay. It might have gone easier if my father hadn’t also been cheating on my mother at the time.”
Magnus can’t say he’s surprised about any of that, and he has a feeling Alec must have gone through his own self-loathing phase. His earlier confession about Jace had probably fed into it, and it's difficult to find the strength to love one’s self after a person’s parents won’t even accept them.
Alec deserved a better coming out experience.
“Well, I for one am glad your family came around, even if I’d hate to think what would have happened if they didn't. I’m also aware this is a bit heavy for a first date and don’t want you to lose your appetite by going further into the details of your parent’s divorce.”
Alec smiles a bit as he picks up his spoon to resume eating. “Lose my appetite? Impossible. Besides, they’re both with people they love now.”
That’s probably the best way the dissolution of their marriage could have turned out. It’s difficult to fall out of love with someone and even more difficult to acknowledge when things are broken beyond repair, something Magnus had learned the hard way. He hopes he never reaches that point again, but it’s still intimidating taking all these first few baby steps into starting a new relationship. The excitement will eventually wear off, and all the little things that were once so endearing will lose their sheen.
His fingers tighten around his own spoon as he tries not to think about it, focusing instead on the way Alec licks the spices clean off his mouth and fights not to shutter his eyes between bites. Truly the best non-verbal compliments one can grant.
Once they’ve both cleaned out every dish on the table, it’s Alec who insists on clearing up for him if only because he’s a staunch believer in shared responsibilities. Magnus would challenge him on it since he knows how exhausted Alec must be after hours of studying, but there’s some instant appeal worming its way through his brain in watching Alec scrub off crumbs and sauce over the sink like a mad man. It must be the sight of Alec with his sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing and contracting in a frantic rhythm.
Afterwards, they find themselves at an awkward pause, unsure how to really end a date that has transpired in an apartment they both live in. There’s no invitation for coffee nor any coy looks exchanged on the couch, wondering if it’s too soon to tumble down into the pillows and explore each other’s bodies. Instead, there’s just this long, uninterrupted silence where Alec keeps adjusting the chairs at the dining room table because he’s not sure what to do with himself, and Magnus can’t help but fix the cuff on his ear for the thousandth time that evening.
Eventually, it’s Alec who laughs first, breaking the stillness with a sound that’s like fluttering wind chimes against Magnus’ ear. “This is not really usually what I do after a date. I mean, I’d probably walk you home or something.”
Ever the gentleman. Of course, he’d be the type to ensure his dates make it home safely.
“And knowing me,” Magnus responds, his own mouth curving into a light, teasing smirk, “I’d invite you up for drinks. Maybe even cast a spell on you to lure you into my boudoir.”
That makes Alec laugh louder this time, his body slowly gravitating closer. “Oh yeah? Did you cast a spell on me this evening? I bet that’s the real reason you cooked.”
“You caught me. Guilty as charged.”
Alec’s hands land around his hips, the warmth of his fingers threading through the thin fabric of his top. Magnus can feel his heart set alight by it, a small ember stoked into an inferno as Alec cranes his head downwards. His own eyes drift shut as if he’s the one actually spellbound and hypnotized.
Just as Alec’s lips start to touch his own, the fire in his chest violently cascades downwards, filling his belly with scorching, cresting waves that make him choke on air and pull back instantly. He hugs his midsection as his face twists into a pained grimace, and tremors erupt quickly through his limbs.
“Not now,” he hisses, feeling his bones start their usual symphony of aches as they start to shrink and mutate.
“Cat transformation?”
Magnus barely has it in him to nod, and he catches Alec’s ensuing sigh of frustration before feeling his arms hug him through it like that could somehow slow down his magic’s progress. The timing couldn’t be worse, and Magnus wants to curse out his luck, except the only thing that comes out is a string of loud meows.
Alec still has him in his grip as he finishes going through the usual change, holding him gently when his clothes fall away, which admittedly, does make him feel better about the situation. He can’t imagine there’s a whole lot else Alec could do to help.
“We’ll take a raincheck on that kiss,” Alec reassures him, his fingers moving down his scalp and over his neck.
☆☆☆☆☆
The sound of the front door opening and closing jerks Alec awake as he shuffles into consciousness in the darkness of his room. There are only a few faded streams of light spilling in from his curtains, which is enough to tell him it’s probably still early in the day. He’d been actually planning to sleep in and catch up on some much-needed rest, but someone apparently has other plans for him.
With any luck, it’s probably just Magnus –a thought that dies quickly when he realizes something heavy is lying on top of his arm.
“Alec, you up?” a familiar voice calls out.
Shit.
There’s not enough time to rescue his arm free before Jace steps into his room, his grin dying the moment he realizes there’s a naked man in Alec’s bed, one still blissfully oblivious to the world unfolding around him.
“Sorry,” Jace mouths before heading out of the room, and Alec takes that as his cue to get out of bed quickly and stumble his way through his bedroom door, shutting it close behind him.
“Why didn’t you call or text?!”
Jace refuses to meet his eyes, guilt wracking his features. “I didn’t know you had company! You’re usually alone whenever I stop by on Saturday mornings!”
That is tragically very true, and it would be even sadder if Jace knew that Alec and Magnus hadn’t actually done anything more than sleep last night. They hadn’t even so much as kissed before Magnus had reverted to being small and cute (still kissable in an entirely different way, if Alec’s honest with himself).
The whole witch!cat-as-a-roommate business has also been something he’d been dancing around actually bringing up with Jace for some time, but considering he and Magnus are actually sort-of dating now, it’s probably a good time to talk about it. Alec just hopes it goes as decently as it did with Izzy, although it doesn’t escape him that both his siblings have, at some point, encountered Magnus naked in his bedroom by now.
“This whole thing–,” he stops to gesture to his bedroom door, “–is still really new. And kind of strange. You might want to sit down.”
To his surprise, Jace actually takes his advice and slides into one of the kitchen stools. “Don’t see what’s that strange. So you brought a guy home. You did that plenty when I still lived here.”
“Yeah, but this is a different type of guy. I mean– remember the cat I picked up?”
Jace looks like he has no idea where this is going, but he nods.
Alec takes a deep breath before letting everything out in a flurry of words. “Okay, well that guy in my bed is the cat. Actually, he’s a witch who sometimes turns into a cat, and he lives here now.”
There’s a long moment of silence in which Jace blinks slowly, clearly still trying to process the new information. Alec doesn’t blame him, as he’d more or less reacted the same way to the news himself. How does one really accept that magic is real and potent in a world that’s designed to convince everyone of the opposite?
“What does he really do, Alec? If he’s a stripper or some kind of paid escort, you don’t have to lie. I’m your brother, remember?”
The doubt had also been expected, so Alec isn’t even fazed. Jace has always been the type to label himself as ‘too cool’ to believe in ghosts or superstitions. He even frequently brushes off Clary’s own interest in clairvoyance and the supernatural as just an eccentric hobby of hers, which admittedly, Alec also had a hard time believing up until recently.
“He’s not any of those things. He’s really a witch.”
“A damn good one,” Magnus adds, his voice startling the both of them.
Alec’s head twists to find Magnus leaning against his door frame, wearing just a pair of low-slung sweatpants. The waistband is wide and worn enough to show off the attractive v-cut of his lower abdomen, making Alec wage a losing battle with himself not to rake his eyes any lower than neck-level.
Jace is the first one to verbally respond to him, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. “Wait, aren’t you the guy who took Alec’s jacket?”
“As a momentary cover-up, yes. I did return it after. It was either that or wandering around the streets naked.”
“Not sure Alec would have minded that,” Jace confesses, which instantly earns him a light smack from Alec.
Alec can already sense that if he doesn’t get things back on track, Jace is going to start pulling out more phrases from his mental rolodex of quips with which to embarrass him. Given that Alec’s already suffered enough humiliation in front of Magnus, he would really like to keep Magnus from entirely regretting dating him.
“The point is,” Alec intervenes, “I found him as a cat, accidentally took him home, and then he turned out to be a witch.”
Jace still doesn’t look at all convinced, his eyes moving back and forth between the two of them like the hamster wheel is moving, but the hamster had fallen off of it long ago. On some level, he must realize the story is too ridiculous for Alec to make up ‘just for fun.’ That and Alec has never been a ‘just for fun’ kind of guy. In fact, Jace has always criticized him for being the exact opposite.
“Do some magic then.”
The challenge is issued in Magnus’ direction where Magnus hasn’t so much as budged from his casual lounging against the door frame. Even without the claws, fangs, and a body full of fur, there’s still something innately feline about his natural posing and movements, which Alec can’t tell whether or not had always been the case or had just been the effect of being in a cat’s body so long. It’s simply mesmerizing watching the way Magnus peels himself from the door frame and slinks towards them like a tail might as well be swishing from his backside. He stops right in front of Jace before starting to whisper an incantation, his voice purposefully low and melodic, and Jace tenses up slightly in response like he’s actually expecting to be turned into a frog or a newt.
Except nothing happens.
“...That’s it?” Jace asks after a moment, making sure to check everywhere on his body twice to verify nothing had vanished or transformed.
Magnus’ lips sharpen into a smirk. “Inside your boot.”
Those words clearly make Jace uneasy as he rushes to unlace his boot. Curious to see what he’ll find, Alec leans over his shoulder, watching him with silent anticipation.
Once the boot is off, they both hear more than see what’s inside of it –a slow, escalating hiss that makes Jace immediately cry out and chuck his boot across the room.
“What the fuck?!”
Slowly, a bright orange and black garter snake starts to slither its way out from the boot. From his vantage point, Alec thinks it’s kind of cute, but he’s not sure he’s ready for another pet, let alone one that might constrict his guests to death.
Magnus has less compunctions about getting close to the snake, kneeling down to pick it up and wrap it casually over his neck like a feather boa. “A fun conjuring spell if you ever really want to make your enemies sweat. I assure you this one isn’t venomous.”
He kisses the top of the snake’s head to demonstrate.
It’s enough to firmly convince Jace that, yes, Alec’s new boyfriend is very much a witch. He turns to Alec once he recovers his shoe (and makes sure to shake it upside down a few times to check that nothing else is inside of it).
“Okay, so your new boyfriend is a witch who turned into a cat and has a snake fetish. Is there anything else I should know?”
...Boyfriend. It shouldn’t jar Alec so much to hear him say it out loud, but it does. How long has it been since Alec has actually referred to any of his dates that way? Can he even call Magnus that yet? They’ve been on only one official date, and while they’ve skipped a few other essential relationship milestones by living together, it’s still all so new. And so fragile. He doesn’t want to scare Magnus off by moving any faster than they already are.
He tries not to overthink it and shakes his head in response. “I mean, he’s living in your old room now, but other than that, I think we covered the important parts.”
He can tell Jace is also zeroing in on the fact that Alec’s cohabitating with someone he’d just started dating, but he’s the last person with any right to lecture him over it. Jace hadn’t even been with Clary for more than two dates before he’d been talking about her being ‘the one’ and picking out wedding dates. The only reason they aren’t already married is the fact that Jace had wanted to earn enough money to buy Clary her dream wedding ring first, which is hard to do on a bartender’s salary.
“Okay, if that’s really it,” Jace tells, “then we should get going. Gym gets full in about an hour, and that’s when the lines start forming for all the weight machines.”
It must have been so long since Jace last had a Saturday free to actually come work out with him that Alec had forgotten it used to be a part of their routine. Jace had just gotten so busy with his work and Clary that Alec had simply started going to the gym by himself the past few months.
“Yeah, I’ll grab my stuff,” he replies after a moment, although he’s already feeling a bit odd leaving Magnus so soon after last night.
They hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk about how things ended, and Alec really would have preferred to stay in bed all day and kiss him until their lips were numb and bruised. However, it’s a little late to cancel on Jace now –still ignoring the fact that Jace hadn’t even texted him to let him know he was coming…
Alec sighs and heads into his room to grab his gym bag, chucking spare clothes, a water bottle, and some of his other belongings into it quickly. He catches Magnus following him out of the corner of his eyes while looking a little uncertain himself, which is entirely Alec’s fault. The day had more or less already wrestled itself loose from Alec’s grip, and Alec is still struggling to keep himself from dropping all his responsibilities and pushing Magnus back down on his bedspread.
Instead, he slips into his sneakers and shoulders his bag, fixing Magnus with an apologetic look. “This wasn’t really how I wanted you two to formally meet.”
Magnus shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting. “At least, it wasn’t your parents, although I feel it’s only a matter of time before they also walk in on me naked.”
Alec can’t help but wince visibly. “My mother actually did do that once when I was a freshman. She still can’t look me in the eye.”
It had been one of his one-night stands thankfully, but his mother had still been adapting to him being gay at the time. The last thing she needed was to be confronted by the reality of what being gay entails in the form of a six-foot tall rugby player from Wales.
“I’ll see you later. Maybe we can go out for a little while?” Alec’s voice can’t help but be a little hopeful as he asks, though he knows it’s a risk with Magnus’ condition. Still, he feels bad leaving him cooped up inside all the time by himself. Magnus must have a lot of friends he misses, and he knows Magnus has also been restless without his job.
To his surprise, Magnus leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “I think we can manage that. There’s a lovely food truck in the park a few blocks away that sells some shawarma I’ve been dying to try.”
A few blocks. They definitely can manage that. Alec grins and tries not to touch the same spot on his cheek he’d been kissed like he’s lovestruck and insane as he walks away.
He can’t wait.
☆☆☆☆☆
It’s late when Alec returns to the apartment, immediately caught off-guard by the the stillness and quiet inside before anything else. He ventures in further to note that Magnus’ door is wide open, but he’s not inside. Fortunately, there are no signs of scuffles, otherwise he may have descended into panic at Magnus’ rare absence.
The fact that Magnus still hasn’t replaced his phone makes it hard to keep track of where he is whenever Alec is not around. That and Magnus is never one to really announce when he leaves the apartment, mostly coming and going at his own whim. Hopefully, he’ll be back soon, as Alec doesn’t have a lot of free time these days and has been looking forward to spending some of it with him. He’s already eyeing his textbooks guiltily because he knows he should be nose-deep in them studying instead of thinking about escaping to the park with a beautiful witch, but he’s a weak-willed man when it comes to Magnus, a truth that becomes more and more flagrantly obvious by the day.
An hour passes with him silently missing Magnus and trying not to fret as he turns the TV on to distract himself. Alec’s sure he must have changed positions on the couch about twenty times since he’d sat down and has also checked his phone twice that amount, as if Magnus would still mysteriously find some way to text him anyway.
Hey, with magic, anything is possible…
Eventually, his eyelids start to weigh their way downwards, reminding him how little sleep he’d gotten the night before. A nap while he waits wouldn’t be the worst thing even if he’s worried he might just sleep through his day off and wake up tomorrow morning with an overwhelming amount of to-do list items he’d failed to check off.
The door opens before he can give that thought any further consideration, and he hears the rustle of a coat being removed and shoes being toed off. Magnus strides into the living room moments later, brushing snow off his hair and smiling apologetically.
“You’re back,” Alec murmurs, sounding quite sleep-dazed already.
“I had a house call to make,” Magnus explains while taking a seat on the arm of the couch, “I’ve been thinking of at least continuing that part of my work in secret. I have a select list of clients who depend on me for medicinal reasons.”
Alec nods faintly, trying to force his eyes open a bit further so he can focus. “What sort of illnesses do you take care of?”
“Oh, just about anything. A lot of them suffer from insomnia and PTSD and require relaxants to help them sleep or reduce their anxiety. There are others with auto-immune disorders that require a little extra help to keep infections away. I even have a client whose mother is suffering from dementia. My potions are the only things that provide her with some level of sustained clarity.”
All things Alec never would have considered calling a witch to help with, but Magnus, for all his brazen aesthetic, is a different kind of witch, he feels. Or maybe they’d all been grossly misinformed about witches for centuries. Whatever the case may be, Alec’s in constant awe of Magnus’ kindness and selflessness.
His fingers reach out to rub over one of Magnus’ wrists, and maybe it’s sleepiness that makes him feel a little extra bold at the moment because he finds himself pulling Magnus’ hand close to his mouth so he can drop a kiss onto the inside of his palm. Magnus’ hand twitches reflexively, and he catches the witch smiling and tucking his chin in towards his chest in a rare show of timidness.
“I feel a bit bad for interrupting what was clearly going to be a nice nap. Maybe I should let you rest while I tidy up my apothecary supplies a bit.”
Alec would rather do anything but that right now, forcing his body to turn over so he can look at Magnus more squarely. “I’m worried if I fall asleep now I’ll regret not getting to be with you.”
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“You could be a cat again or someone might stop for another impromptu visit or there will be work or school, and I just–” Alec stops himself, feeling a little self-conscious and desperate at the moment. Maybe he’s starting to get in too deep into whatever is brewing between them, but he can’t help himself.
“I want to spend time with you, too,” Magnus confesses, and he looks just as scared of how he feels when he says it.
It does comfort Alec. Makes him think they’re both threads tangled together instead of lined up parallel to one another. That he can touch, feel, and breathe in all the places their lines intersect if he simply lets himself.
Magnus doesn’t say anything more but suddenly shifts to his feet, holding out a hand towards him that Alec can’t help but instantly latch onto.
“Where are we going?”
He watches Magnus toss an enigmatic and playful smile over his shoulder as he leads Alec into his bedroom where the air is thick with smoky herbs and ground-up flower petals. It makes his head swim a bit as he spots all sorts of differently sized vials placed on shelves that Magnus had carefully nailed to the walls at some point. There’s a book left open from earlier, words scribbled across it in Latin next to an illuminated picture of an owl.
Magnus’ hands slide upwards to grip Alec’s shoulders and push him into a chair before he sits on the edge of his own bed, facing Alec directly.
“I realized how little I have truly introduced you to my craft,” Magnus finally explains, “I wanted to help familiarize you with it better.”
That shouldn’t make Alec feel so unnerved, his mind jumping to the worst scenario. “You’re not going to turn me into something, are you?”
The question makes Magnus laugh as he shakes his head. “Considering how well that’s gone so far, it’s best if we don’t touch any transformation spells for a while. No, I have a more basic spell in mind that you can help me with.”
Help…? Alec isn’t sure how he’s supposed to accomplish that. Last he checked, he had no witch blood in him or magic capabilities whatsoever.
“How?”
Magnus takes one of his hands between his own, cradling it and pushing his painted thumbs gently across his palm. There’s an immediate surge of warmth from the touch that crawls its way along Alec’s veins and makes his elbow tingle. He wonders if Magnus is already casting something on him.
“Everyone has at least some capability of interacting with magic, whether it be through creation, augmentation, or receptivity. It’s why rituals like séances and summonings are more effective with large groups of people.”
That still doesn’t really clarify what Alec is supposed to do. “Am I helping you summon the Dark Lord or something?”
His comment makes Magnus snort this time, his eyes crinkling in the corners in a way that shouldn’t be so magnetic, but Alec can’t and won’t look elsewhere.
“No, no, unfortunately Satan will have to remain undisturbed today. I am going to try a simple cultivation spell. Earth and healing magic are my specialties.”
He gestures casually towards the small pots of soil he has sitting by his window.
“I wanted to spruce up the place, so I decided to grow calla lilies. Obviously, we are not in the right kind of habitat or temperature for them to grow on their own, but that’s a minor impediment when it comes to magic.”
Alec still isn’t sure how he can be used for that, as he’s never found himself particularly equipped for any spell-casting. He’s worried he might disappoint Magnus when the witch realizes just how plain and ordinary he is even below the surface.
“Are you sure it’s going to work?” he asks Magnus, trying not to let his uncertainty leak out too much and stymy Magnus’ excitement.
“Of course. Did I not tell you earlier you had a damn good witch in your midsts?”
It does ease some of the tension around Alec’s muscles as he unconsciously scoots forward, trying to get his head in the game. If Magnus thinks he can do this, he doesn’t want to let Magnus down, even if he still has no idea what he’s doing.
“Okay, what do you need me to do?”
A book floats its way gently from Magnus’ desk, which is still peculiar to see even when Alec had already seen Magnus conjure up a snake from nowhere just a few hours earlier. It’s just strange to wrap his thoughts around the idea of actual, live kinetic magic stirring the world around him like Magnus has found out how to wield nature and gravity like weapons –which might not be far from the truth.
Magnus grabs the book with his free hand, the pages flipping themselves to a particular passage. There are several hand-drawn pictures of vibrant red flowers with weaving vines sprawled across the page, their leaves all highlighted with a gold paint Alec recognizes from medieval manuscripts.
“You know how to read Latin, don’t you?” Magnus asks, “I assume they must teach you some in Law School.”
“I actually took it for two years as an undergrad. Figured I’d get ahead of the curve.”
Magnus’ mouth twitches in amusement. “Always an overachiever. Alright, the passage in the center of the page is the incantation. I just need you to hold my hands in yours and repeat after me.”
Seems easy enough, even if Alec is trying not to overthink things as he watches Magnus set the book down to the side and interlock their fingers. Magnus’ touch is still surprisingly warm, and Alec thinks if he concentrates enough, he can already feel sparks crackling just below his flesh.
“How many times do I have to repeat it?”
“You’ll know when to stop.”
Not the most reassuring thing he could say, but Alec is pushing down his nervousness as he glances at the page in question. The incantation reads more like a poem or a song, arranged in four rhyming bars with a cadence that feels both foreign and natural on Alec’s tongue. He tangles the words around his teeth and gums as he speaks them out loud, hoping his pronunciation isn’t completely off. Magnus’ fingers tighten around him as he starts to join him, and Alec can’t help but watch when Magnus’ eyes slip shut and his expression smooths into something serene.
Nothing at all happens a few seconds in, which has Alec already thinking he may have screwed up, but he doesn’t stop because Magnus said he’ll know. It doesn’t feel right yet to even slow down, especially when he’s only just starting to feel currents moving through Magnus’ fingers and igniting their way up his own arms. Their rippling only strengthens the longer they touch, until the currents start to flow like ocean waves that threaten to knock Alec over if he so much as weakens his grip on Magnus’ hands just a little.
The air around Alec also starts to thicken with more budding energy that winds around his skin, making the hair on his arms stand, and he feels his voice fade naturally as bright lights waft loose from his body like fireflies. They move in elegant patterns, swirling around one another, some brighter, some crystalline blue, traveling to each flower pot and crawling down into the soil.
Three buds sprout before his eyes, pushing through the ground as flower petals start to open, unveiling their vibrant violet-black hue. There’s a bit of white spotting on them that makes the surface of each flower look like a celestial backdrop, and Alec stares wide-eyed, finding it hard to believe he had a hand in making something that beautiful. It had to have been all Magnus.
“Go on and touch it if you don’t think it’s real,” Magnus encourages.
As reluctant as Alec is to break their connection, he does want some tactile evidence that they’re real. That he had really been able to aid Magnus in a spell with whatever inert spiritual energy he might have.
His fingers graze cautiously over one of the petals, fearing he might tear it if he were to touch it too roughly. He follows its silk-like folds downwards, awed by its color and convinced that he can somehow feel a part of Magnus and himself coursing through it.
“Does the color mean anything?”
Magnus tilts his head, looking like he’s contemplating how to answer that before he speaks. “Flower language varies from culture to culture and throughout time periods. It’s difficult to say if there is any real meaning to them, although these in particular are very rare, and the spotting on them is even less common.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
A new flower bud sprouts from between Alec’s fingers startling him, and Magnus has the nerve to look utterly amused by his reaction. “Not at all. The flower is healthy, and you find it beautiful, don’t you? How could that be bad?”
“I mean the fact that it’s dark instead of, I don’t know, white or pink.”
This time, Magnus leans back on the bed, his body weight resting on his palms. It leaves his neck and flashes of his chest exposed to the low lamp light, the warm glow moving across his bare skin in a way that makes him look untouchable and divine.
“Oh, that’s just me having a flair for the dramatic,” Magnus confesses, which is the kind of answer Alec should have been expecting out of him.
Maybe a flower is just a flower.
Alec should stop reading too deeply into it, especially when Magnus is seated on the bed like a lounging god, watching him with enough warmth to rival the sun. His fingers unconsciously tighten around the flower in his hand before he gets a stupidly romantic idea and leans over to tuck it behind Magnus’ ear, completing a painting in his head he didn’t know he was drawing.
More flowers start to sprout around Magnus’ head the moment he does, weaving together and fashioning their vines into a crown that Alec finds utterly breathtaking. He realizes then that he wants to worship this man –to sit at his altar and drink his lips like communion wine.
He suddenly wraps his fingers around Magnus’ cheeks, curving along the shape of them as he whispers against Magnus’ mouth, “Can I kiss you?”
Magnus’ voice comes out equally soft and threadbare, “Please kiss me, Alexander.”
Something inside him fractures and breaks, and all that comes gushing out is everything Alec told himself he’d never feel for another person. The desire to surrender to them, the desire to take and to consume. It pours through his body in waves as he touches his lips to Magnus’ and feels them yield. Feels them part and suck Alec inside like he’s oxygen.
His body trembles from the way Magnus’ tongue feels slick and winding against his own, and Magnus’ hands move to grip his shirt tightly, pulling him down at the same time he collapses backwards on the bed. Alec’s horizon shifts along with the motion, and he allows himself to go slow. To simply feel the way Magnus’ fingers crawl below his shirt and trail down his spine like a pair of spider legs.
He groans soft yet eager into the kiss, unsure if he should stop himself –unsure if he even can when Magnus parts his legs and hooks one around his waist just to fasten Alec tight to his own body. All his bones dig straight into Alec, feeling the sharp press of his hips and the creases of his ribs rub harshly against him. It makes Alec’s breath stutter out his throat as he breaks the kiss because he wants to see if Magnus’ control is fragmenting as much as his own. If he’s barely clinging to sanity while trying not to undress him and map his way around his skin like an old world astronomer mapping his way around the stars.
His hands come to rest at the hem of Magnus’ loose-fitting pants –the ones Magnus had pilfered out of Alec’s closet earlier– something he recalls with a realization that hits him hard and makes liquid heat cascade down his stomach.
“How far do you want to go?” Alec finds himself asking as he barely restrains his hands from yanking the fabric of his own sweatpants down Magnus’ long legs.
Magnus crooks his head back, his body arching temptingly into his touch, skin burning where Alec has him clutched between his fingers. “You’re making it really hard for me to be responsible, Alexander. I wanted to take my time with you.”
Alec nods, understanding that this is all still very new and tentative, even if his desire feels timeless and boundless. Like it had been born at the same time the universe had exploded its way into existence.
“We can still go slow. Just kissing.”
Magnus’ leg tightens around him at the same time his hips roll up, fluid and measured like a choreographed dance. “Not that slow.”
“Kissing and ...grinding? What are we? Teenagers?”
Magnus laughs, the sound honeyed against Alec’s lips. “Oh, live a little. I’ll even set the mood.”
His fingers turn in an elegant swirl to dim the lights and bathe the room in elongated shadows that exaggerate the sharp lines of Magnus’ body even more. Alec can also smell the fragrance from the newly sprouted flowers filling the room more strongly than before, inhaling it into the back of his throat as he chases the soft, saliva-slick sheen of Magnus’ mouth.
Magnus surges up to meet him at the same time, his fingers pushing simultaneously into the back of Alec’s neck and against his lower vertebrae, urging him to move. To dance with him. And like a helpless puppet, Alec is guided by his touch, rolling his hips, chasing after the heat of Magnus’ body.
The tight compress of their hips makes Alec react like livewire, his body feeling charged and incandescent, growing ever hotter as he fits one of his hands against Magnus’ ass to help angle both of them better. The subtle change in position wrings loose a fresh moan from Magnus’ throat, the sound muffled by their lips. It’s more alluring than anyone has any right to sound, so pure and guttural that Alec feels his dick twitch with sudden need.
Alec’s hands suddenly want to misbehave, slipping between the waistband of Magnus’ pants, moving blunt nails across the bare muscles of Magnus’ ass as Magnus rocks up against him again. He knows without looking that Magnus is just as hard, just as desperate and urgent to touch and be touched. Alec can feel his erection sliding across his lower abdomen, pushing against taut muscles as Magnus shudders firmly against him.
Slowly, Alec can sense all the nerves in his own body winding their way around one another, tightening and tightening as he starts to reach the limit of how much teasing and promise he can endure. Those same nerves quiver and pulse at every graceless press of Magnus’ hips, his nimble movements devolving fast into something primal and unhinged the longer the two of them grind against one another.
Magnus’ mouth grows just as frenzied, teeth scraping down the length of Alec’s chin and suddenly biting him at the juncture between his neck and jaw, making Alec hiss –making his lower body buck into Magnus’ hard, making him think of wild thoughts like how it’d feel to be inside him, to fuck whatever lies tethered beneath Magnus’ skin loose and inspire Magnus to bite out every letter in his name against his throat.
The thought alone almost makes Alec come right there, barely holding onto his self-control by a sliver of pure stubbornness because he wants Magnus to feel the same intense high he does now. Wants to bring him to the edge and push him over it again and again.
Maybe it’s a bit under-handed to move his hand lower, fingers sliding teasingly along the cleft between Magnus’ ass cheeks, but Alec likes the way it makes Magnus instantly jump and gasp out his name.
“Alexander, you’re really making it hard to behave,” Magnus huffs out, the words tinged with a laugh bubbling at the bottom of his throat.
“I promise I won’t go further.”
“Uh-huh, and I’m the Queen of England.”
Magnus’ retort makes Alec’s grin widen as he retracts his hand and starts to sink lower down Magnus’ body, obediently staying over his clothes. His lips drop over Magnus’ chest then down his stomach before he reaches the thin fabric of his sweats, tongue licking a teasing strip over where Magnus’ still-clothed cock is straining for attention.
“Allow me to take care of you then, Your Highness.”
Magnus responds by covering his face and eyes as his whole body vibrates with barely restrained laughter. “Oh, you are officially the worst of the two of us.”
It’s a title Alec will wear with pride, not bothering to hide his own amusement as he licks tightly against the outline of Magnus’ arousal again. It makes Magnus spread his thighs apart to give him more access, and Alec takes that as invitation enough to finally peel the fabric of Magnus’ pants downwards. He then pauses to stare when he does because Magnus is stunning like this, just as beautiful and perfect in and out of clothes, body twisted up against the sheets like he’d been carelessly dismantled this whole time by Alec’s wandering hands. It’s a sight Alec will likely dream about and revisit privately without end, but for now, he wants to cherish the reality of it.
His lips don’t hesitate to close around the head of his cock, not bothering to take his time or tease things out any further. It’s been too long, and Magnus’ tenuous grip on his human form is always a threat lingering in the back of Alec’s mind. He doesn’t want to tempt fate, so he takes Magnus throat-deep and sucks, hollow-cheeked and starved.
Magnus’ head rolls back, neck exposed alluringly as he buries his fingers in Alec’s hair. His body trembles the more Alec slides his lips around him, and Alec can tell he’s close when he starts to try and wrench away from him.
“Alec–,” he breathes out hoarsely, “Alec, I can’t–!”
Alec doesn’t let him pull completely away, holding his hips down until Magnus has no choice but to release into his mouth. He watches tantalized by the last remnants of Magnus’ control splinter, body half-twisted and teeth dug into his bottom lip, making a sound Alec wishes he could hear in full as his body is wrung dry. Then Magnus slowly melts down into the mattress, looking boneless and blissed out of his mind. It’s hard to feel guilty at all about it, especially when the results of Alec’s gamble had landed very much in his favor.
Magnus doesn’t let him move too far afterwards, looping a finger into Alec’s waistband to stop him.
“Do allow me to return the favor. It wouldn’t be very proper of a Queen to do otherwise.”
Like he even has to say much to convince Alec, body repositioning itself next to Magnus so he can lie comfortably on his side. He watches as Magnus pushes his pants downwards along with his underwear just enough to free his cock and cradle it in his hand like he just wants Alec to soak in his body warmth. It’s unbearably frustrating, and Alec struggles not to get himself off by simply thrusting into Magnus’ palm.
Magnus must pick up how on-edge Alec already is because he doesn’t tease him too long, stroking him firmly, fingers close-fisted, following the length of Alec’s cock down from base to tip. It’s equally maddening as just holding him had been because Magnus’ hands are soft and covered in cool rings, making it hard for Alec’s brain to distinguish between the pleasant hot-cold sensation they produce.
His own hand ends up digging into the shorn hairs on the back of Magnus’ neck, forcing him closer and capturing his lips with his own just so he can muffle himself as he feels all the muscles in his body already tensing. He doesn’t last much longer, surrounded by Magnus’ scent, by the feel of his skin, the taste of something rich and sweet on his tongue, the way his fingers know just how to clench and relax, playing Alec like an overwrought instrument. Alec crumbles hard, groaning loudly into the kiss as his hips buck forwards, pumping out his release into Magnus’ waiting palm.
When Magnus suddenly jerks back, Alec expects him to immediately wipe himself clean on a tissue or towel in disgust. He doesn’t expect Magnus to drag his own hand to his lips, tongue unfurling to lick Alec’s come off like it’s warm vanilla dribbling down his skin. And the simple sight of Magnus doing it shouldn’t be as intensely and mind-numbingly sensual as it is, but that feline quality that’s always underlying all of Magnus’ movements lately makes it so.
Alec has to force himself to tear eyes away because he doesn’t think he has it in his body to get hard against so soon –a feat which gets more complicated when Magnus leans down to do the same to Alec’s already spent cock. It makes Alec visibly shiver like his body is riddled with the aftershocks of a very intense earthquake, and it does horrible, horrible things to his already obliterated self-control until he has to push Magnus away just so his heart doesn’t give out from over-stimulation.
In response, Magnus ends up stretching out next to him with the most cheshire-like expression, pulling the blanket over their lower bodies. “Alright, I’ll spare you until morning. I am, after all, a benevolent Queen.”
The lamp burns out entirely with a flick of Magnus’ wrist, and Alec gravitates towards him, pulling Magnus close to his chest and burying his face in his hair.
If someone had told him months ago he’d have ended up here after adopting a cat… well, he obviously wouldn’t have believed them. But picking up a stray on a whim may have been the best thing to ever happen to him.
☆☆☆☆☆
A heavy fragrance wafts through the room, the scent so overwhelming that it tickles all of Magnus’ senses and jars him awake. His eyes flick around the dark curiously, trying to see through the dim sunlight spilling between his curtains and catching sight of vibrant calla lilies.
Everywhere.
He suddenly sits up to get a better look, being careful not to disturb Alec who has an arm thrown around his waist. A quick swirl of his fingers parts the curtains just a bit more, letting more of the dayglow filter in and highlight the thick vines wound around his ceiling in intricate patterns, calla lilies hanging from them in full bloom. There are more spread across the floor, encircling the bed and creating a violet penumbra that’s both breathtaking and eerie.
Magnus’ fingers trail around one of the nearby open buds curiously, following the lines where the petals spread open, exposing the air to their pollen-rich aroma. It’s true what he said last night that he didn’t know what their appearance signified. Flowers of birth and death. Flowers of purity and holiness. Regalness, godliness, grace, beauty. Any and all of those meanings could apply, but those definitions had been created and assigned to them by people trying to find deeper symbolism in nature.
Even if he hadn’t quite known what the flowers were telling him before, he knew that they were saying something, and he’d been trying hard to listen. The fact that three simple seeds had birthed an entire garden is proof enough that their bond is different. Special.
Maybe Alec has more magic in him than either of them realized.
As that thought starts to sink in, Magnus feels Alec shift next to him and mumble his name out tiredly. Magnus turns slightly to brush his hand comfortingly across Alec’s hair, unsure how he’ll react to all of this –if he’ll be delighted or frightened. Hopefully, it’s the former, as Magnus would really love to practice more magic with him in the future.
“You’re up,” Alec says more clearly, his eyes cracking open before immediately screwing shut under the weight of the sunlight.
“Sorry if I woke you. I was just surprised by all this.” Magnus gestures to his room, which looks more ethereal as the sun rises higher and spills more light over the freshly bloomed flowers.
Alec blinks a few more times before pushing himself to sit up and finally take a good look, his eyes progressively widening as he takes it all in. Their homegrown garden stretches as far as the hall, vines winding snake-like around the doorframe and along the wood floors. Magnus imagines it will be difficult to walk over the floor without crushing the flowers, but they will make do.
“Was the spell supposed to do that?” Alec asks slowly, obviously still struggling to comprehend the scene.
Much like Magnus had done before, he also runs his hands curiously over the lilies closest to them on the bed, like they might suddenly decide to whisper their secrets to him if he’s kind enough to them.
“Not quite,” Magnus answers, “It was a simple growth spell.”
“Then how come so many sprouted? They’re all over the room…”
That’s the more challenging part to explain. Magnus hesitates, finding the right words because he’s still unsure how invested Alec wants to be in this lifestyle. In him.
“A spell’s strength depends on the caster or casters involved. I suppose the best way to explain is to think of yourself like a battery. And to factor in the fact that we were quite intimate right after.”
Which undoubtedly had played an indirect role in the spell, although Magnus has only ever dabbled here and there in sex rituals for recreation purposes. It had never been with someone he’s cared about deeply, and the results had never been this intense.
“So you’re saying we’re, I guess, magically compatible?”
Uncertainty makes Magnus’ stomach twist in on itself as his fingers unconsciously tighten around his comforter. He doesn’t look at Alec as he nods then asks, “Are you okay with that?”
Alec reaches out to turn his face for him, forcing Magnus to look him squarely in the eyes. “Are you okay with that? You know I’d help you any which way I can. If you need my strength, my magic, my energy, or however you want to call it.”
Magnus can’t help but smile at Alec’s blunt response, even when it should stop surprising him at this point. Anyone else would have pulled away and claimed that this was too much for them to ingest, but Alec is all too willing to throw himself straight into the thick of it just to aid Magnus.
“Perfectly.”
Alec smiles back, fingers clenching around his cheek to tug him into a kiss before he whispers, “Good. Although, I’m not sure if it’s practical to keep your room like this.”
“What? You don’t like the Garden of Eden aesthetic?”
“It’s more like I’m worried we’re going to get bees and flies everywhere.”
Okay, Magnus can sort of see his point. He’d also like to be able to reach the bathroom at some point and have a proper shower. It’s just such a shame to let all the beautiful flowers go to waste.
Time to make potpourri, he supposes. It might even spruce up the place a bit more.
“Alright, I’ll work on harvesting all of this while you get washed up.”
Another kiss lands on Magnus’ cheek this time before Alec braves tiptoeing out of his room to avoid crushing the flowers. It’s really sweet how carefully he moves around them like it would be sacrilege to accidentally step on something they created together.
Maybe he was right about Alec being completely different.
☆☆☆☆☆
It takes about a few more weeks for Magnus’ transformations to stop completely, the incidents gradually waning until he can safely return to some of the more former aspects of his social life. There haven’t been any sightings of witch hunters either, according to Catarina, meaning he’s free to actually take outdoor strolls, go on dates with Alec, and return to his own shop. Clary had, indeed, been doing a good job of looking after it and keeping the business going while just generally raking in a lot of clientele by being her adorable and charming self. He’s not sure if he can ever repay her enough except with a sizable raise. More importantly, he’s glad to be back behind the counter, relishing the welcoming scent of burnt sandalwood incense in the air and the sound of the festive chimes he had hung up on top of the entrance.
Some of the outdoor strays creep in through the little cat door he recently installed, making themselves at home in every corner and nook they can squeeze themselves into. A particularly brazen one curls up right next to the register, practically demanding head pets with his stare. Magnus is more than happy to oblige in between customers –mostly regulars who missed him these past few months. He had to make up a story about taking a sabbatical to Tibet and getting in touch with his spiritual-self, which is more or less what they’re expecting to hear.
It isn’t until the sun is starting to sink and he’s on his third cup of tea that he’s greeted by a new customer. This customer, in particular, is unbelievably tall, unbelievably handsome. Dark-haired, hazel-eyed, smiling brightly, dressed to kill all of Magnus’ self-control.
He walks up to the counter, his smile a little timid as he leans onto it.
“So how much for a palm-reading?” he asks.
Magnus barely contains his own giddiness, his fingertips gliding over the back of the man’s hand with his fingers. It’s a bold and playful touch.
“Consider it on the house.”
The man smiles warmly as he turns his hand over, and Magnus can’t help but trace his thumb along each line, following every one of them like he’s reading the same book passage over and over, trying to commit the words to memory.
“Oh, this is interesting,” he murmurs after a moment, consciously leaning in closer.
“What do you see?”
Magnus glances upwards and locks gazes with his customer, still letting his touch roam over the man’s flesh, feeling it spark in response like a growing bonfire. “You’re planning on taking someone you’ve had your eye on for a while to dinner tonight. I’m thinking something adventurous like Peruvian, and afterwards, you’re going to get very, very lucky, Alexander.”
The overhead lights dance in Alec’s eyes as he responds. “Oh yeah?”
Magnus’ fingers tighten around Alec’s hand as he uses his grip on it to close the distance between them, kissing him slow and lazy and tasting hazelnut coffee warmed on Alec’s tongue. His eyes shut half-way, body itching to phase through the counter just so he could press up tightly to the solid wall of muscle that is Alec. Forget work, forget making money, forget responsibilities. He would rather kiss Alec until he can’t feel anything else but him
Unfortunately, the surly cat by the register suddenly deems it necessary to break them up. It squeezes between their bodies, tail whacking Alec in the face in protest, as it leans up towards Magnus for head pats.
Alec ends up grimacing and pulling back as he brushes fur loose from his mouth. “That cat is not secretly a witch, is it?”
Magnus shrugs lightly in response. “You never really know these days. He seems overly concerned with my modesty.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
A laugh bubbles out of Magnus, already feeling on the right edge of intoxicated, and he can’t help but whisper a quick incantation to lower all the shop blinds and lock the door, something Alec takes instant note of.
“I promise, no cats will interrupt us in the stockroom,” Magnus reassures him.
It takes a few more seconds for Alec to really grasp the situation, and by then, Magnus has moved around the counter and taken Alec’s tie hostage, using it to pull him along.
“Now, who says you can’t get lucky twice in one day?”