2.
Disclaimer: I still don't own TMI. Alec and Magnus are still 19, in case you've forgotten. Also, I use British spelling instead of American. Okay, so Alec is becoming a little weird. But still in a way, boring. That's my headcanon of him anyway, that he constantly pretends to be stiff and boring but is really secretly weird. (I mean, how else can he understand Magnus?!) I'm awfully sorry for not updating soon enough :( I've been having a lot of crammed graded assignments and I can't really manage time. I will try my very best to update faster next time. I swear. Slightly longer chapter, enjoy!
Alec liked Wednesdays.
Wednesday was when the city stopped in its tracks and pondered about things, simply because it was in the middle of the week. Alec loved it when panicky, distraught folk left the coffeeshop with their frames glowing slightly, and he liked to think that he was spreading warmth and happiness circles throughout the city, one steaming frappe at a time.
Well, if he couldn't wear capes, at least he could brandish paper cups ferociously.
On Monday he had actually done that to fend off a potential robber. Fine- paper cups and whipped cream dispensers. (He secretly took some pleasure in knowing that whipped cream wasn't only in his nightmares.) Alec had thought a lot about adventure recently, and it was somehow because four days ago (had it really been only four?) Magnus Bane, that charming, sparkling, sleet-dripping stranger walked into his coffeeshop. He had no idea why, but something about the bold glittery mascara he had on and the Phoenix-printed jacket flicked on a switch inside him that screamed for diversity.
Maybe it was the stars' way of telling him, he needed to stop being such an old man.
Whatever it was- this was an Exceptionally Good Wednesday, because his boss, Miss Fray, had kindly relented and allowed him to add a whole slew of pastas to the menu. Alec was contemplating being a barista for the rest of his life, and not just as a part-time university job. He could specialise in fettuccine and frappes, and name his coffeeshop "What the F" (because there were still certain ways in which Alec was childishly immature.)
And it was on this Exceptionally Good Wednesday, that Magnus Bane came into the coffeeshop, sat down, and ordered a tall expresso to mull over the blackness of his mood.
In fact, Alec felt the air literally sizzle and spark around him. He began to wonder if Magnus Bane had been struck by lightning, which was why he had such a hold on him. That made no sense. But nothing ever made sense about his infatuation with Magnus Bane, it was perhaps- fate?
Maybe it was about the way his leather jacket hugged his body tightly, that Alec could see all the contours of his frame, and the lovely way the long column of his neck swooped gracefully down, and those tight pants-
Alec had never been so sure of his sexuality. If he knew it before, now it was as if a huge group of ducks started glittering in his head and Dora the Explorer music started playing.
Magnus Bane barely stirred, hunched with his phone held in one hand, his whole frame just minimally holding in all the quaking. His eyes, previously so full of panache and crackly wit, were now looking hollow and world-weary. He looked so melancholy, so broken, so empty that Alec felt terrible for finding his clothes so terribly attractive.
Alec paused, then grabbed his favourite tiramisu mousse from the counter and set it down on Magnus Bane's table, before dashing back to the safety behind the counter.
He watched, as Magnus blinked, and slowly unfurled himself, yet still looking at the cake as if it were a puzzling opponent of sorts. Slowly, a soft smile spread across his face, melancholy, yes, but a smile nonetheless. He watched as Magnus spooned the cake into his mouth, and a spark turned on behind his eyes, a spark that Alec somehow just knew, was quintessentially Magnus Bane. He watched as Magnus peered around slowly to see who set down the cake, and Alec felt an unhealthy blush begin to creep up his neck, so he turned and busied himself with the whipped cream dispenser.
Bad mistake. It spewed out its joy to feel his touch and whipped cream soared defiantly through the air, landing everywhere, and there was so much whipped cream lying around that Alec didn't know where to start cleaning. He was positively sure he would get fired from this. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Magnus even chortling slightly. Blushing, he ducked his head instinctively and reached into the cupboard to grab a mop.
He hated whipped cream.
It wasn't until everyone had left and he had finished up clearing the Whipped Cream Disaster (which was probably a planned vendetta against him because of Monday's incidents) that he noticed the jacket.
Magnus' black leather jacket was still casually slung over the chair, solitarily awaiting its equally lonely owner. Not that Alec thought about Magnus' relationship status. Ever.
What would regular not-boring folk do? Keep the jacket in the coffeeshop, perhaps, or bring it to a police station's lost and found.
But as any whipped-cream-addled mind would know best, the only logical thing to do was to find Magnus Bane, and who exactly he was, and what he did.
Thus began Alec's Extremely Valiant Quest To Find Magnus Bane.
