Alec was not a sentimental man. He could easily be mistaken for sentimental due to his quiet and serious nature, but he liked life to be simple, to be on face value. He wasn't extravagant or flamboyant like most people would suppose a gay man would be.
His sister, Isabelle, would often comment on Alec's simple life. On how he had worn the same three sweaters for the last five years. How he lived for training and missions. How even his bond with Jace was compartmentalised into the box of warrior in Alec's mind.
So when he met Magnus, it felt like a dream. He's met other warlocks before, and hated their attitudes, their demands for a debt to be repaid on their terms and always disproportionate to the service provided. To be confronted with a man whose only warlock mark was his unique cat-like eyes, half-hidden under the glittering eyeliner he wore, whose outfit screamed for everyone to pay attention to him, and to have his laser focus settle on Alec? He must have been dreaming. Was his imagination that good? His dreams had never been that vivid.
And yet Magnus made sure he had a drink in his hand, and despite the issues of Clary's mundane friend turning into a rat and that debacle with the vampires and werewolves, he remained close to Alec, who felt so out of his depth at Magnus' downworlder party, surrounded by creatures who would hate every rune on his body.
It felt like a dream that first time they brushed against each other, the looks that they traded where Alec tried to work out what Magnus wanted and Magnus made it clear where his thoughts were going. To have Magnus work out that Alec wasn't straight like a shadowhunter was meant to be when his own family didn't realise, when Jace still hadn't worked it out … Magnus felt made up. Like a surprise helping hand when you were feeling at your weakest.
Would Alec really have imagined such a vivacious person to recognise those hidden parts of himself? Was that what he needed to unlock that sentimental compartment he didn't even realise he had? He didn't think he could, and yet Magnus was just too good to be true.
Alec had slipped out of the institute before anyone could question where he was going so late and headed to the bar he thought Magnus had asked him to go to. If Magnus didn't exist, at least Alec could know he had imagined him, and if he did? Well, then Alec was about to have his first ever date.
The bar was busy, and Alec nearly walked right back out again, until a man at the bar turned, his gaze immediately seeking Alec. Those catlike eyes, that sparkling eyeliner, the scarf and blazer ensemble, the many rings on his fingers as he clasped a cocktail glass … no, Alec hadn't been dreaming. He smiled nervously, and approached the bar.