This is my attempt at the 30 day OTP challenge. My friend and I are doing this, though she doesn't post on fanfiction. It's my first time writing Malec, though I love them to bits, so please go easy on me! I haven't yet read Shadowhunters Academy, so this will focus more on the main six books, with a possibility of visiting the Infernal Devices on some elements of the challenge. Happy reading!

HANDS

Alec was always enthralled with Magnus' hands.

It had something to do with him being a warlock. It must do.

They moved with a grace of their own, his long, delicate fingers twisting and almost dancing as Magnus conjured the blue sparks of his magic.

They moved in the same way as they grazed across Alec's skin, with a hint of hesitation that wasn't present in the way Magnus controlled his magic. He was always tentative with Alec, worried that he would cross the line, push too far. Though it was Alec who felt like he was always pushing for something with Magnus.

Those magic fingers felt like Heaven, even if they only just brushed against the back of Alec's knuckles.

One morning, when Alec and Magnus were lazing in Magnus' loft, sultry music playing softly in the background, martini glasses in hand despite the early hour, Magnus began a conversation. Chairman Meow had just settled on Alec's lap, and he was stroking through his fluffy coat absent-mindedly with his free hand.

"You have a wonderful touch, Alexander. Chairman Meow doesn't tolerate many people." Magnus sat forward. "Although, I have to agree, your touch is a magic unto itself."

If Alec were the type of person to blush, those comments would have made him blush. He focused more on the cat on his lap as Magnus crossed the room to join them. He took the martini glass out of Alec's grip, and began caressing his fingers softly. Alec's focus was now entirely on the magic that Magnus was casting, though there was no blue hue to his fingertips this time.

"Your hands tell a story. Every scar, every callous, even the runes. It's strange to have your hands tell so much when you're still so young."

Alec hated the issue of their age, of all the lives that Magnus had already had.

"And it's strange that your hands show no signs of your story, no hint of your age."

"I'm only three hundred, Alexander." Magnus teased him. Last week he had been seven hundred. The week before, two hundred. Magnus' age seemed to alter with his mood. "And my hands are well equipped to tell you my age. It's just not there physically."

He waved his hand, fingers curling into the palm from his pinky to his forefinger, and those blue sparks appeared, showing a younger Magnus, his cat eyes wide with wonder. The image quickly dissolved, and Magnus took a sip of his cocktail.

"You know," he sounded conversational, with a teasing lilt to his voice. "It's been a while since I've felt those hands on me."

"It's been maybe twelve hours, Magnus."

"Hmm, twelve hours too long. Let's leave Chairman Meow and you can try to find my story on the rest of my body with those big, strong, warrior hands."

Magnus wound their fingers together, and Alec allowed him to lead the way into his bedroom.