Title: Deniability
Summary: Because Alec Lightwood is not interested, at all. In fact, last he checked, he didn't even have a single hormone in his system.
Genre: Romance, Humour
Pairing(s): Magnus/Alec – implied Jace/Clary
Warning(s): Nothing that the internet won't be afraid of.
Words: 1, 222
A/N: Decided my profile needed even more gay than it already has. HURRAH. Also, Alec is adorably retarded when it comes to relationships. It is why I love him so.
What was he doing?
No, really.
What was he doing?
He stared at his phone, drumming his fingers off his knees, before glancing at the invite once again. The number was there, in glittery ink, all so dapper and flamboyant, and Alec felt his fingers start to stick from sweat. He had said to call, really. It would only be fair, to phone at least, say he wasn't interested. But then again, he might've been drunk, might've been talking to Isabelle – yes, then he'd just look like a right...
He grabbed the phone, redialling, and pressed it to his ear.
It manages about two rings before Alec hit the hang up button, and flung it back against his mattress.
This was getting ridiculous.
He was a shadowhunter, he defeated – helped defeat - evil on a regular basis. Phoning a warlock from the comfort of his own room was nothing.
He picked the phone up again, dialling once more.
"Hello?" The voice was tired, and slightly irritated – Alec tried not to remind himself that it was probably his fault for calling about fifteen times. "Hello?" He asked again, slightly more insistent, and it was only then Alec realised he'd been just sat there, breathing down the phone, for about two minutes.
He ghosted his tongue across his bottom lip, a million and one thoughts buzzing through his mind, before one sentence finally bubbled to the surface.
"I'm not interested!" Alec squeaked, before smashing the red hang up button so hard it broke.
Oh yes.
Smooth.
"I'm only here," Alec began patiently, voice far more controlled than he actually felt. He was almost proud, but the brilliant blush, coupled with his shaking hands, was doing nothing for his image of serene. "Because I wanted to reiterate," he paused, staring with all possible intensity at the spot between the warlock's feet. "How uninterested I am, that is." He finished.
Magnus arched an eyebrow. "...I see."
Alec nodded. "Yes, well, glad we had this chat." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, then remembered how hot they were, and took them back out again, swaying uncomfortably on the porch. "I should probably, ah..." He gestured over his shoulder, still not meeting the warlocks gaze.
"You breathe very loudly, you know." Magnus abruptly declared. Alec stiffened. Oh dear. "On the phone," Magnus went on, voice just radiating smugness. "Was it you calling all those times?" His tone suggested he was very, very aware what the answer actually was.
"Call?" Alec went for instead, voice losing all possible calmness and delving straight into the highest tenor a boy his age was capable of generating. "Wh-What call? I don't call, least of all you, I don't even own a phone. In fact, I don't even know what a phone is."
Magnus arched another eyebrow, both of them resting quite comfortably just beneath his hairline.
"...It was a pleasure talking to you," Alec mumbled under his breath after an awkward silence, before running back down the street as fast as the wind could carry him.
"I think it's sweet, really," Isabelle muttered from the doorway, watching as her brother scrubbed furiously at her latest attempt at dinner, up to his elbows in soap and burnt noodles. Next to her Clary – recently unattached from Jace's mouth – blinked, quite lost.
"What's sweet?"
Isabelle laughed. "His romantic blossoming, of course."
Clary frowned, nose scrunching delightfully. "...did you just refer to Alec as blossoming?"
At the mention of his name, Alec spun slightly, sending bubbles swooping up his shirt. He was scowling at them, which seemed to be his default expression these days. "What?" He snapped, brandishing the sponge like it was a deadly weapon. Clary had no doubt in his hands it probably would be.
"Who is it then?" Isabelle chirped, eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief only a sibling would be able to muster. "Your moonlight lover?"
Alec made a strange noise, like a shoe sinking in a bog, and squeezed the sponge so hard that a stream of bubbles shot into his hair.
He did not seem to notice.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," he squeaked, voice oddly strangled. It was the most emotion Clary had ever seen him achieve, and she was almost concerned by it. "Why?" He abruptly asked, stepping forward and skidding on a patch of water, sliding into the table with all the grace of a wounded elephant. "Who have you been talking to?"
"No one, why..." Isabelle leered, lips curling into a slightly nasty smirk. "Who should I be talking to?"
"No one, because there is nothing going on, at all, ever. In fact, I am like a potato, completely asexual."
Isabelle snickered, and Clary blinked. "...spider plants are asexual..." She offered, trying to be helpful.
Alec gurgled, and went back to murdering the dishes.
He was an idiot.
"You are an idiot," Magnus muttered, leaning over his bed and poking him on the forehead. Alec would have loved to point out that he was already well aware of this, but the poison in his veins made that somewhat difficult. "I know you can hear me, little shadowhunter. So I'll say this the once, idiot."
Alec would have also loved to point out he said that twice, but alas, perhaps later.
Magnus cracked his knuckles, sparks raining across the carpet, before focusing.
Alec did not really remember much – aside from colour, lots of it, he wondered dimly if Magnus could do anything without some kind of rainbow explosion – during the healing process, but he did remember waking up and meeting the all too amused face of said colourful warlock.
"...m' 'trested..." He gurgled, and Magnus frowned, amusement fading to concern.
"What was that?" He asked.
Alec huffed, licking his dry lips, before trying again. "...'m not...interested..." He finally managed, smiling tiredly with pride. He had produced a sentence – sort of – and, and...well that was it, but still, pretty impressive for a person who was dying mere minutes before.
Magnus leant over him then, slowly, with some kind of predatory air. Suddenly Alec realised that perhaps that had not been the best thing to say upon waking. "...oh really?" Alec stared at him, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks, mind tripping and falling head long into a gutter he had not known existed, and instantly wished he was back, lying dead, unable to speak. Or think.
It was a lot harder to blush - or fantasize - when near death.
Abruptly Magnus snapped his fingers, and Alec jerked back to reality.
"You were frothing at the mouth," he pointed out, looking half entertained, half absolutely terrified. "I usually stun people into silence, but it is rare they contract rabies from my mere dazzling presence."
"I'm a potato." Alec declared.
Magnus quietly found himself a wall to bang his head off.
The first kiss was more of an accident than anything.
Actually, it wasn't even that.
Alec wasn't sure what it was, other than the fact it was a kiss.
He had been on Magnus' doorstep – again – trying to explain his definite stance of not interested, really, despite what he may have heard, when the warlock had sighed, eyes thrown to the heavens, grabbed a fistful of Alec's jumper and tugged him forward and oh-
...well.
Colour him interested.