A/N: I wonder if there's anything more embarrassing than realizing you spelled the name of your story wrong right after posting. Gah. It's fixed, but still. Thank you all for reading the prologue, and especially PlanetOfLove and the guest for reviewing! I'm actually very wary about writing more. I admit it, I'm very self-conscious but I always try to forge ahead. I hope you enjoy this, where Magnus and Alec meet! :3

Warnings: None really for this chapter. There might be cussing, but that's about it, if even that. Oh, and errors. I only read over it once, so forgive me and feel free to let me know if you catch any mistakes!

Disclaimer: All terms, characters, etc that are brought in from TMI or TID are Cassandra Clare's. I'm just manipulating them.

Bacchus and Ariande.

The story was one Alec knew well. Bacchus, the god of wine and ecstasy, burst through the trees with such energy. Ariande, left on the island, surprised, scared, and a hint of curiosity as Bacchus goes after her. Having been a double major in studio art and art management, he had to take several art history courses and had even snuck in a mythology course after realizing how much it influenced art centuries ago, let alone now. As it was, the painting in front of him was from the fifteen hundreds, painting with oil by the famous Titian.

That is, it looked like it was done by Titian in the fifteen hundreds, but Alec wasn't called in by his father to just admire artists' original works. His dark blue eyes roamed over the work with his critical gaze, yet it also held a large amount of appreciation. He stopped suddenly as his eyes reached one of the cheetahs. He straightened, his eyes still lingering over the precise colors and emotions displayed. He had a bit of jealousy, wishing he would be able to paint something original—then again, this particular piece wasn't original.

"It's amazing," he finally announced, looking up to Robert Lightwood, his father's sharp eyes locked on him. Alec resisted looking away, always feeling as if his father was judging him. Luckily one hurtle had been crossed when he had been able to prove that, yes, being an Arts major was actually very useful. He focused back on the painting anyway, finding comfort in the piece. He held up a picture of the original piece, even if he didn't necessarily need it. "The painting strokes are identical. It's aged and placed on the conservation board, just like the original piece was in the nineteen hundreds."

"Stop drooling over the piece, Alec. You'll stain the floor and I won't clean it up."

Alec could hear the smirk in the tone before he could see it, glancing away to see a man, no more than a year younger than him, standing in the door to the conference room they were currently occupying. He was all gold with his striking blonde hair, his light eyes that shown with humor, and his tanned skin. Jace Lightwood walked up to them, leaning back against the long table with all the gracefulness of a cat. Although they shared the same last name, they were not actually related. Jace had been adopted when he was very young and had been more than just a guest from the very beginning.

Alec didn't exactly like thinking of Jace as his brother. It would make the feelings that surfaced in him every once in a while very awkward, not to mention it was already awkward that Jace didn't know he was gay. He pushed those thoughts away as he smiled back at his best friend.

"Hey, Jace," he said casually. Unlike himself, Jace had decided to follow Robert's career path as an FBI agent. He was young, new into the field, but he already was gaining some fame from his natural talent. He was their muscle, and their charm if they ever had to go undercover, which made the fact he was there a mystery. "Why are you here?"

The younger man shrugged—Alec bouncing his eyes so he didn't look to see what the small action did to his muscles—before Jace nodded towards Robert. "Ask him."

Chancing a glance at his father, he wasn't surprised to see Robert shake his head. "First tell us if the painting's real."

"It's Ragnor's," Alec said confidently. He was impressed, yet again, by the man's work. He had been able to do everything right, including putting in the raw emotions an artist must had to get such quality. There was just one small detail that Alec had grown to spot easily. He moved aside so Robert could have access to the painting. "Look at the cheetah on the right," he said, painting delicately at the animal. "You might need a magnifying glass."

Robert picked up the magnifying glass on the table, supposedly left for Alec's use, though he never needed it. The man approached the painting and held the object up to where Alec's finger was, leaning over to get a close look. Alec pulled away so his father could have a better view. "RF," Robert said after a moment, standing and placing the magnifying glass on the table. He gave an appreciative nod to his son, and Alec felt his heart pick up at the pride he saw in his dad's eyes. Alec was thankful that his mind was so similar to Ragnor's—no artist would leave a piece unsigned, and Alec had found his signature. "Well done," he said before looking towards Jace. "We can confirm this piece as fake, now we just need to find the original."

"Which means finding his partner," Jace said, his face hardening, as it always did when he talked about a serious case. "Though I think we have something else to worry about."

Interest peaked, Alec looked at his friend. "What happened?"

"Ragnor Fell was killed today," Robert said factually, his words crisp and straight-forward with no emotion.

Alec's eyes widened as he looked between his father and Jace. "What do you mean killed? I thought you were just trying to arrest him!" He immediately regretted his words at the sharp glare he received from Robert. His admiration for the artist was not unknown, but it wasn't looked highly upon, either. That's usually what happens when your idol is a criminal.

"We were," Robert snapped. "We had figured out when he was meeting up and had set up a stake out. We don't know who it came from yet, but there was a gun shot fired right when we were about to arrest them in Hudson River Park," he explained as if he was annoyed that he had to explain something to a child. It did, however, explain why Jace was there. He had been at the stake out. "I appreciate your help, Alec, but the rest of the case is confidential. We'll let you know if we need any more of your assistance."

Knowing when he was being dismissed, Alec grabbed his bag of supplies (not that he had to use them much) as he exited. Jace threw him a guilty look, but he shrugged it off. He was used to the confidentiality, and his treatment came with being the son of the head agent. "See you around, Jace," he said, giving his friend a reassuring smile.

The golden boy sported a grin that showed his perfectly white teeth. "Don't miss me too much. I know how hard it is to leave my presence."

Alec rolled his eyes, not bothering to spare his father a glance as he exited the room.

The buzzer sounded, making Magnus groan and rolled over in his bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, whoever it was would go away if he just ignored. But he knew better, mainly because he knew exactly who would be at his front door.

Grudgingly, the con man slipped out from under his canary yellow comforter, grabbing a random pair of pants on the floor before he slipped them on. He slept in the nude, but he didn't mind going commando, especially if he was just checking the door. The buzzer sounded again and he grumbled under his breath as he pressed the button that unlocked the door to the complex. He opened his door and leaned against the frame, not caring that he was shirtless and his pants barely left anything to the imagination.

"Camille," he said with a warning tone, narrowing his eyes as the woman approached his door.

Camille Belcourt was gorgeous, by far one of the most attractive Magnus had seen with her blonde curls and perfect curves that she showed off so well in her red, fitted dress. She also was so manipulative that she could have anyone wrapped around her pinky finger. That had included Magnus for a while, but not anymore.

"Magnus, darling. I hear about Ragnor and wanted to see if you were okay," she said, a small bit of an accent leaking into her voice.

"I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather take the day to mourn him alone, if you wouldn't mind," Magnus said bitterly. "Not to mention focus on finding a new artist."

"No you don't," Camille said slyly, approaching Magnus as she slowly placed the tips of her fingers on his caramel skin, tracing them down his bare chest. "You know I'm always around."

Magnus grabbed her hand quickly, pushing it back towards her. "No, Camille," he said sadly, his eyes flashing with pain as he looked at her. "I trusted you at one point in time. I loved you. I can't go through that again. Please… Camille," he said, speaking her name softly. "I need to move on."

Green eyes narrowed at him as they hardened. "Very well," she said finally, giving him a small nod. "If you decide to change your mind, you know where to find me."

"I'll avoid it as best I can," Magnus said, all previous tenderness gone as he watched the woman turn around and leave. He closed the door quickly, threading his fingers through his hair before messing it up. He let out a small whimper, knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep and pretend that meeting never happened. So he went back to his room, deciding he needed to get out, and now.

He shouldn't have wandered here. It was dangerous, even if no one would be able to recognize him. As the rule went, don't return to the scene of the crime. It was the fastest way to get caught. Yet Magnus couldn't help it. After seeing Camille he felt the only way to feel clean again is to come here.

The sidewalk was clean. He didn't exactly know what it had looked like before, seeing how he had never looked back, but he had imaged finding at least a stain where blood had pooled. Yet there was nothing there, nothing at all to indicate his friend's death that had happened the day before.

Magnus took heavy steps as he walked by the sight, making sure not to stand in one place too long. Not that it mattered. He was wearing his normal type of attire. He was wearing pale blue pants that were so tight he had to keep his phone in his jacket, which was white over his salmon, form fitting shirt. His hair was put up in what seemed like thousands of spikes, his eyes lined with black, his contacts in place. This was toned down for him, seeing how no glitter was involved, but he felt that was appropriate in honor of his friend.

He couldn't mope around. He had to move forward. That's what Ragnor would have wanted, not for him to mope around, or to even accept Camille's offer.

Just as he was deciding to leave, he looked up and saw a man walking towards him with his attention absorbed into a piece of paper. Magnus had just enough time to put his hands out, catching him by his shoulders.

"Watch where your walking, Sir," Magnus said, though more in a teasing manor than serious. He man quickly looked up from his picture in shock.

"Oh! I-I'm sorry," the man said, his creamy cheeks tinting a soft shade of pink as he took a step back, steadying himself. Magnus used this opportunity to slide his hands down the man's arms as he let go, feeling the muscle hidden underneath the sweater the man was wearing. He looked up, and green eyes met the deepest blue eyes Magnus had ever seen. The man's face was apologetic, his black hair long enough to cover his eyes, which Magnus just couldn't have. Without even realizing what he was doing, Magnus lifted a hand and brushed the man's bangs to the side with his long fingers, showing more of the blue orbs as his eyes widened, the pink of his cheeks turning even darker.

Magnus smirked. "Oh, don't worry, Darling," he purred. "It's not every day you almost get ran into by someone as gorgeous as yourself." He imaged that if the man's face got any redder he would be able to win an award. He pulled his hand away, finding it odd how much he already missed the touch. He was pleased, however, to see the blue eyes trace over his body.

The man stuttered, no coherent words forming at first, which just amused Magnus further. He was obviously shy, and most obviously gay, if his reaction was any indication. "Sorry," the man apologized again, looking down quickly, as if to hide his face. "I was just… just looking for a certain spot. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I-I'll get out of your way now." The man moved to go around Magnus, but Magnus quickly grabbed his arm, earning a surprised look from the other.

"Where are you looking for? I know this place like the back of my hand" Magnus said, his curiosity peaked, though why he didn't know.

"Oh, um," the man said, his blue eyes shifting nervously. "Just—you wouldn't want to—I mean, it's just where someone I…"

"Someone you…?" Magnus prompted, finding the man's nervousness simply adorable.

"My idol," he said quickly. "I mean, that's what others called him. I looked up to him. He… he died here yesterday."

Magnus's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. The man was talking about Ragnor. There was no one else it could have been, but he had to be sure… "Ragnor Fell?"

Blue eyes lit up in recognition. "You know him?"

"Who's asking?" Magnus said wearily, not wanting to say anything if this man was a reporter, though he certainly didn't look or act like one. He just didn't want anyone of importance being able to connect him to his deceased partner.

"Alec," the man said. "Alec Lightwood. You know about Ragnor Fell?"

Debating exactly how to answer the man—Alec—Magnus shrugged. "It's all over the news already. I appreciated his artwork." More than just appreciated it. He made a living from it, but he wasn't going to tell a stranger that.

"I did, too!" Alec said suddenly, startling Magnus with his enthusiasm before it disappeared, the blush back full force. "I-I mean, I admired him. His talent. I'm a starting artist, and he is—was so… what?"

Magnus's eyes were large as he looked at Alec, ignoring his question. Looking closer, he could tell he was younger than he first thought. He was tall, almost as tall as Magnus himself, but his face was so… innocent, as if he hadn't bared the reality of the world yet.

And he was an artist. Magnus couldn't be this lucky, could he?

No. Alec was inexperienced—young. He might be good, but that didn't mean he was good enough for Magnus's needs. Still…

"An artist? Can I see some of your work?" Magnus asked, putting on his most charming smile. If he was any good, or even just trying to get out there, he must have some type of way to show his work.

Alec scrunched his eyebrows before he nodded slowly, pulling his phone out of his baggy jeans. Jeans, Magnus noted, that did not show off his body nearly enough. Nor did his gray sweater that hung loosely on his frame, yet he could tell by what he had felt of Alec's arms that he was not, at all, out of shape. Before he let his mind drift to what, exactly, was underneath those clothes, a phone was placed in his vision. "I'm not very good at original pieces," Alec admitted humbly. "I mostly copy other's work, or paint what I see. That's my portfolio."

Magnus's eyebrows shot into his hairline as he pulled the phone away from the raven-haired boy and looked closely at the photo, zooming in as much as the device would allow. They were incredible, especially for someone just starting out. He wasn't quite at Ragnor's level… but he was pretty darn close. He flipped through some of the other photos, finding with each one that if he didn't have such a trained eye he wouldn't be able to tell each painting from the original. He tapped a few more times on the phone before looking up. "These are amazing," he finally said, trying not to sound too impressed as he handed the phone back, feeling his own phone vibrate, but ignored it. He didn't want Alec to be too cocky and charge more than necessary, but from the looks of it, that wouldn't be a problem.

"No, they're just copies," Alec mumbled, his bangs falling back over his eyes as he shook his head, and Magnus resisted brushing them aside again.

"Ragnor did copies," Magnus said, putting a firm hand on Alec's shoulder, making the boy snap his attention back to his face. "He might have been a criminal, but he was an artist first and foremost. His work…" Magnus swallowed hard, trying to not let his emotions show. "He let others have copies—not prints—of art work so many would die to have. He brought many people happiness with his talent, and it is a talent. You just have to find the right buyers."

Shock filled the blue orbs as they stared before they blinked a few times and looked away quickly. Alec pocketed his phone and dug his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. "I'm not that good. I can't seem to get any buyers, except this lady who has me paint her shoes."

Shoes? Well, that was interesting. It would certain fit Magnus's apartment, but that wasn't his focus now.

"But you do," Magnus said, a Cheshire grin spreading on his glossed lips. "Right here." Seeing the confused look, he decided to elaborate. "Alec Lightwood, I'd like to commission you personally to copy a piece of art for me."

Alec's jaw dropped. Not much, but just enough to show his disbelieving shock. "You—wait. Commission me? You can commission me? Just to copy something?"

Magnus raised a delicate eyebrow as he pulled out a checkbook, seemingly from nowhere. He wrote out a check before showing it to the man. "Would this be enough?"

Right when he saw the number, Alec snapped his teeth together and straightened his back, holding out his hand. "I'll do my very best, Mister…?"

"Bane," Magnus said, taking Alec's hand with a small chuckle. "Though please just call me Magnus."

Their hands stopped shaking, Magnus looking up to see realization dawn on Alec's face. "The Magnus Bane? The richest man in all of New York? Known for buying out businesses and reselling them after they double their profits? That Magnus Bane?"

"That would be me," Magnus said, giving a wink, earning the desired effect as Alec blushed.

After a stuttering breath, Alec pulled his hand away. "Well," he said nervously. "I will do my very best, then, Mr. Bane."

"Magnus."

"Magnus," Alec corrected himself, swallowing. "I will do my very best, Magnus."

"I would hope so," Magnus said as he leaned in, so their noses were almost touching. "How about we meet at Starbucks tomorrow morning, say around nine? I don't much like anything earlier, but I would like to talk about the piece you'll be doing."

Alec flushed, and Magnus guessed he had forgotten about that small detail. He chuckled, pulling away enough so the poor boy had enough comfort room to speak. "Right! Yes, of course. I'll be there," Alec spilled the words out, cursing under his breath at his unprofessionalism. "How should I contact you…?"

Magnus smiled and patted Alec's cheek twice. "Look in your phone, dear. I sent myself a text so I had your number."

"Wha—I—"

"When I was looking at your work," Magnus explained, answering Alec's unasked question as he folded the check and slipped in into the same pocket as Alec had put his phone.

"R-right," Alec stuttered before biting his lip and taking one step back, away from Magnus's hands. "Then tomorrow. I should—go. I have to… yes, see you tomorrow."

Magnus made the smile he always did when sealing a deal, making sure to meet Alec's addictive eyes directly with his own before he spoke, clearly and sensually. "It's a date."

He didn't look to see the reaction of the gorgeous man, instead turning around and putting his hands in his back pockets as he walked away.

Funny thing, he did know if he was more excited he could have found a new artist, or that he had a date with him, his morning now completely forgotten.

Alec watched the man—Magnus Bane—walk away in all of his glory, looking like a fashion model, sex god, and as important as the president as he did. It was only when the man was out of his sight did he walk (or rather, stumbled) to the closest bench as he knees decided they wanted to turn into mush. He took a few deep breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart, never having this type of reaction before. In all fairness, it was a bit overwhelming. Almost running over the richest guy in all of New York, known for his smarts in the business world, who could have easily sued Alec for getting dirt on his jacket, who was now commissioning him with more zeros than Alec's brain could comprehend, then to have the same guy say their meeting tomorrow was a date?

"Angels above," Alec let out in an exhausted breath. Magnus had been flirting with him, though he was known for that as well, so had he meant it as a meeting sort of date, or… a date-date? Alec didn't know, but his mind never wondered to the check in his pocket as he knees finally solidified and he was able to walk back to his apartment.

No, he was more shocked that he was nervous that it wasn't going to be a date-date, because he found himself really wanting it to be.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! And, as a random note, today's my birthday! I am actually officially twenty-one, believe it or not. Yeah, totally partying-it-up. But reviews would be the BEST presents in the whole wide world! Thank you for reading!

~Annie