Author's Note: It's been awhile since I've written anything and it is something I regret. Luckily, however, I have a new chapter-story up for you guys! This is a TMI fanfiction and it is, in fact, a Malec love story. So yes, gay men. Don't like? Then certainly do not read. :3 Enjoy~

Of Blood And Glitter: A Prelude Of Sorts

Hands bracleted with ugly, gaping wounds grappled, strained whispers passed between cracked and bloodied lips, and eyes struggled to stay open. The line between nightmare and reality had blurred to near non-existence and the screams of those who had fallen became the soundtrack to the night. The air around them was thick with the scent of death and edged with the strong metallic bite of spilled blood. Yet another fateful clash between demon and Nephilim had left both forces handicapped and struggling to recover. The fear among the Shadowhunters was unspoken, as it hung heavily over them, adding to their burden of physical injury.

Valentine was succeeding in weakening the Clave through yet another demon outbreak in Idris.

It had been going on for weeks now, the vast expanse of Idris's countryside being ruthlessly ravaged by many a demon, further bringing the dwindling the race of Shadowhunters more and more. Usually by this point the Nephilim had some idea as to what Valentine was aiming for, what kind of goal he was trying to reach, but Valentine had certainly left much to the imagination. Too much, unfortunately, for the Clave to form a plan of action aside from defending wherever the demons struck next.

"Alec, are you okay?" A rasping voice tickled the pale and bloodied neck of Alexander Lightwood, who was sprawled on an embankment slicked black and red with blood and ichor. His head throbbed, the slow trickle of something – blood or sweat, he didn't know – running down his forehead and dipping along the angle of his nose. A thumb crusted with dirt and glitter came into his line of vision, pressing gently onto his nose and ridding his face of whatever had run down from his hairline.

"You're head is bleeding. I'd heal you but my magic has been greatly depleted. Can you handle the pain for a couple of hours?"

It seemed like a ridiculous question. Alec had dealt with pain all of his life, having sustained many injuries, some worse than what had riddled his ragged body now. With a slow, sluggish nod, he turned to gaze with hazy blue eyes over at whoever was beside him.

Cat eyes, weary but still that beautiful shade of bright green, stared back at him. Magnus Bane's face, even despite the sweat and blood that mixed rudely with the glitter that covered his skin, could never look bad. It seemed like nothing the Warlock could do could ever sully his slim face, his full lips, or his angular features. A faint yet definitive pang of jealousy made Alec's heart clench as his lips turned up into a soft smile, albeit a weak one.

"There is nothing I can't handle," Alec was shocked by the sound of his own voice; it sounded like sandpaper grinding against sandpaper – raspy and unclear. How could have he expected any less? Yelling to warn Jace, Simon, Isabelle, Clary, or Magnus to watch out in the midst of battle could really screw up a person's voice. Magnus seemed unphased by this, however, and smiled broadly back. His teeth were still a brilliant shade of white, his canines just slightly fanged. Alec thought with elated clarity just how incredibly attractive Magnus was and how happy he was that out of all the people here, which were dozens, he was there beside him, distracting him from the pain of his body, the pulsating ache of all his joints and muscles.

"Your wrist is broken and it looks like you've got a few bruised ribs," Magnus chimed, interrupting Alec's thoughts. With a low groan, Alec nodded, the pain making the edges of his vision blur just slightly. Magnus leaned up and over on a dirt-and-blood encrusted elbow, closing whatever space was there between the two. Alec felt his heart thrum a little faster in his chest, making him exhale harshly between swollen lips.

"And you? You look like hell." Alec managed to joke weakly. Something glinted behind Magnus's eyes, a kind of bitter humor, before it faded and a low chuckle rumbled from the base of this pale throat.

"At least my hair remained untouched. I'm rather surprised." A hand, donning an extravagant variety of rings, raked through spiked hair, a small puff of glitter emanating from his scalp in the process. Alec would have found the sight comical had it not been from the sudden wave of pain that shot through his left shoulder. A gasp tore from his dry lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Alec!"

For a moment, Alec thought it had been Magnus who had called out his name but realized a split-second later that the voice was not the Warlock's but, in fact, Jace. Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look over in relief as Jace was suddenly there, beside him, kneeling down and his stele in his hand. Not far behind was Isabelle and Clary though Simon was nowhere to be found. A small knot of concern had wormed its way into Alec's stomach then before his attention was grabbed by the large gaping wound that ran the length of Jace's arm. Bruises lined his jawline and large welts covered his neck and part of his chest, his t-shirt soiled and torn. Opening his mouth to voice his worry, Jace beat him to it, speaking urgently.

"Give me your arm."

With what felt like a great deal of effort, Alec lifted his sore arm and let Jace take it in his bloodied hands. Pressing the tip of the cool stele to his pale skin, he felt Jace start to trace an iratze into the flesh of his arm, the minor wounds slowly starting to knit themselves together and fade away. And with those gone, the pain began to lessen more and more. A breathless smile worked its way onto Alec's face as he looked at Jace, who stared at him with a look of pain mixed with a wariness that he was all too familiar with looking at.

"I'm fine," Alec said as he sat himself up, his abdomen aching and burning as though on fire. Magnus stirred beside him, having gone rigid at the sight of Jace and the others approaching. Green eyes watched the two boys exchange words and something dark and sad flickered in his gaze. The way Alec's eyes took in Jace, the passion of old love that still burned in those dark blue orbs of his...Magnus hated it. He hated Jace in some sense of the word. He wished he could be looked at like that by Alec, to be smiled at like that, to be experience whatever friendship they held. He knew that it could never be the same between Shadowhunter and Downworlder and what the Alec and he already had was remarkable enough but with a heart-aching realization, Magnus knew he could never have with Alec what Jace had.

And for the first time in his long, long life, Magnus knew what it was like to be envious.