A/N: Bloody hell.

It's almost been a whole month since I last updated. Sue me! Ugh. I am so sorry. I am a horrible person for letting you hang on like this.

The thing is, I just didn't have any ideas for this story. It was like I had a huge, general writer's block first, like I already mentioned last chapter (you'd know if you actually read this and don't just skip to the good part =P) but then it kinda faded away and I got back into writing. But no matter how hard I tried, the block remained for this story. I couldn't help it. So, I am happy to say that today, while rereading the last chapter, I just kinda got back into it. The feel has me back. Thank god.

I hope you aren't too angry at me for always taking so long. I'm just trying to do the best I can, and I don't like the idea of giving you something shitty only for the sake of uploading. I think this story might be worth more than that. I will pay much more attention to this now, because I feel like this can develop into something really, really good. Please don't hate me for taking my time, for experimenting a lot, for hopping between the POVs and for changing moods often and quickly. This story is kind of like my note pad. What I feel, I write. Sorry if this is a little messed up.

But yeah, I'll stop with the rambling now. I hope this chapter makes it up to you for not updating in forever.

If it does, leave a kind comment or drop a PM, favorite and share! It would make me very happy.

Love you!

Cheers

Xx

p.s. Forgive me if my description of New York is completely incorrect, I have never been there (though I so wanna go one day and also hope I will!). Please don't be too harsh on me. This is a piece of fiction, after all.

If you have been to New York, or if you live there, and my description happens to not fit at all, just imagine New York the way you know it. Don't let my lack of knowledge ruin the story for you.

(also, sorry for the horribly long A/N. I'll do a shorter one next time :D)

Alec's POV

I try not to think too much while Magnus leads me through several parts of New York, parts I have never been to but like instantly hence their friendly charm and seemingly kind people. We pass two-story houses, painted in all kinds of cheerishing colors, ranging from varying shades of green and yellow to blue or orange and, in some cases, even pink. They all have white doors and large windows, perfectly styled front lawns and nicely painted fences, ligned with flowers so bright it almost looks unreal.

This is a part that doesn't quite fit with the New York I know, the shabby, dark places, the dirt-covered alleys, the run-down houses. Or the business part full of modern buildings and skyscrapers so high you almost have to break your neck to look up at them. We can see the skyscrapers in the distance, though, glittering and reflecting the sunlight, a permanent reminder that this, in fact, is still a city.

The sunshine warms up my face quickly, making me smile. I have always loved the sun. Magnus gives my hand a gentle squeeze and I can't help but chuckle when I realize how surreal this whole thing actually is.

My parents would probably have a heart attack if they'd see me now, walking around a surburb of New York I've never been to on my way to get breakfast with a warlock who not only sports glitter, spiky hair and cat eyes, but also wears a green velvet coat over bordeaux shorts and is, in fact, currently holding my hand. In publicity.

I, too, find it hard to believe this is real, and when I look at Magnus to find out he is not only real, but also currently looking at me quizzically, I burst out laughing. It isn't even funny, yet I laugh for a good while, making me clutch my stomach with my free hand, bending over and lurch on the sidewalk dangerously. Magnus cocks an eyebrow at my probably irrational behaviour, which only makes me laugh more.

I have just calmed down when we come to a halt, me gasping for air and letting out a few last chuckles, him looking at me with his eyebrow nearly reaching his hairline.

„Do I wanna know?" he asks, surprisingly calm.

„Just thinking this is surreal, is all" I answer, smiling at him dumbfoundedly. God, he must think I'm a mental idiot by now.

But instead of sending me straight to the next loony bin, he just grins, shakes his head and lets go of my hand. I can't help but pout a little. His fingers felt good in mine.

„So," I say after a few silence-filled seconds, „Are we just going to stand here or actually go to whatever place you're taking me?"

„We're already there," he chuckles, pointing to our left, and when my eyes follow his finger they find a cute little café with a sign reading The Glittery Bow. I snort when I notice the words are painted in pink and are crowned by a golden bow which is, in fact, sparkling more than my mom's diamond earrings.

„Don't you dare say anything, they have the best pancakes in the world! Plus it's cute," Magnus snaps before I even open my mouth, grabbing my wrist and dragging me in with him. I smile and follow him willingly, shaking my head slightly. I should've known he'd take me to a place like this. Spending time with Magnus Bane has never ended up being easy before. Or not glittery, for that matter.

We enter the warm, friendly room, which is filled with the low, happy chatter of other customers and some new pop song faintly playing in the back. While Magnus strolls over to the counter to talk to the waitress, I take a look around. It is cute, to be honest. The walls are painted yellow and plastered with brightly colored posters. The counter is pink, and so are the round tables and chairs in the right part of the room, as well as the leather benches in the left. It smells like green apples and vanilla, a surprisingly nice combination, and I feel relaxed immediately. This is a good place. Okay, I may not be able to deny I'm gay anymore.

I snap out of my thoughts when Magnus walks back up to me, pointing to a secluded table right next to the window in the far right part of the room. My legs walk over there on their own accord, my mind only following slowly. It is still fighting with the thought I might be gay.

Magnus pulls one of the chairs out for me, smiling, and I find myself blushing at the gesture. Stupid, I curse myself mentally, hating the fact I can't stop my cheeks from growing even redder when he smiles just a tad bit wider and takes my jacket from me. It's a casual gesture, kind of nice, actually, but I still feel like a stupid, love-struck schoolgirl on a date. He sits down opposite of me, folding his hands, and before I am able to do something stupid like actually grab them and hold on to him, I hiss: „Just for your information, I am so not going to be your damned damsel in distress."

He throws his head back and laughs, making me blush again. Then he looks at me, a cocky spark in his eyes, and says: „Sure. Whatever you say, then."

The way he says it makes it clear he didn't take me seriously, and I can't decide whether to be angry or not. But then he reaches out, pulling a loose thread from the collar of my shirt, and I look into his eyes and forget it all.

Damn those eyes. They are fascinating, really; not only for the fact that they are not human, but actual cat eyes, but also for the sheer beauty of their green color and the way his long, dark lashes fan around them gracefully. The thing that makes them so fascinating to me particularly is the immense feeling of joy that rushes through me when I look into them. It is gigantic, how a simple look of him gives me goosebumps in all the right ways.

He clears his throat, and I stop my thoughts right there, blushing again at the thought that I've been staring at him far too long. I must seem like a creep.

He clears his throat again, a questioning look on his face, and only then do I notice the waitress waiting next to our table. They are both looking at me, Magnus with an amused expression, the waitress – Margareth reads her name tag – slightly annoyed. I blink, confused, and clear my throat. „Uh, what?"

Magnus chuckles, and I glare at him automatically. Margareth huffs and says, slowly and very clearly, as if I'm dumb or slow or something, „I said, And for you, Sir? Your date here has long since ordered, and if you don't do the same, I will just return to the kitchen and leave you to your business. Some people actually have work to do, you know."

„I...uh," I stutter, taken aback. „I – I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to leave you waiting. I was just ... distracted."

„Yeah, I could tell that," she says, giving Magnus a meaningful glance, causing him to smirk.

I am too busy smiling at her apologetically to actually give him the evils again, but I'll save that for later. „I'd like a Latte Macchiato, please," I say, watching her scribble it down on her pink notepad, and just when she's turned around and started to walk away I call: „And he is not my date!"

„Yeah, whatever" she laughs, disappearing into the kitchen. I glare angrily at the door that just swung shut behind her and turn to face Magnus again. He doesn't seem upset or angry, like I'd hoped he'd be; I'm not even sure if he actually heard what I said.
Instead, he's just studying me, his fingertips put together in a thoughtful manner, as if I'm an interesting painting and he's trying to figure out for how much he could sell me.

„What?!" I finally spit, getting annoyed by his green, steady gaze.

I'm taken aback when he says: „You do that a whole freaking lot. Glaring, I mean."

I blink at him, surprised, and finally stutter out: „I – well, it's just... I don't!" The last word is accompanied by yet another angry glance cast at him.

He smirks, and I curse him for looking so damn sexy, and then I curse myself for thinking something like that about a guy because guys aren't freaking sexy, and then before I get lost in my messy thoughts again he says: „And blushing. You do that a lot, too. Blushing and glaring."

„I – no! That's not true!" I almost shout, noticing that to my personal horror, I am blushing yet again.

„See, you're doing it again, simultaneously even," he says, breaking into a wide smile. I curse him and he just laughs softly. Before I can actually stab him with the fork that's lying on the table like a perfectly presented weapon, our food arrives. My stomach growls loudly when the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs with bacon fills my stomach. But when Margareth has set our orders down, a plate full of food and a large coffee for Magnus and a freaking Latte Macchiato for me, I let out a row of swear words under my breath. I forgot to order food.

Magnus takes me out to a cute little café to have a large nice breakfast and I legit forget to order said breakfast.

I let out another two or three curses, looking up only to find Magnus grinning at me.

„Aw, darling, forgot to order food? Shall I get you something?" he says, in a way that is much too nice and caring for my liking. He sounds so genuine that I can't be angry at him, so instead I am angry at myself for not being angry at him. Jeez, I must be tired. My thoughts make literally no sense.

„No," I press out. I don't want him to treat me like some girl.

„You wanna try mine?" he says, holding out his fork almost teasingly. Although I nearly faint at the delicious sight – and smell – of the golden-brown eggs and the crispy bacon, I shake my head no. I am so not going to take something of his, much less eat from the same fork that will touch his amazing lips soon. And his tongue. Oh god, the tongue.

I feel my cheeks heat up at the thought of what his tongue could do to me, and he laughs loudly, either because I am blushing again or because he knows. I hope for my own sake it's the former.

„C'mon, love, I don't want you to starve," he says, lowering the fork and waving to the girl behind the counter, the one he's been talking to earlier. „Hey, Lacey? A batch of pancakes with double maple syrup please, darling here forgot to order."

The girl laughs, gives us a thumbs-up and disappears through the same door Margareth used earlier. I watch her leave, the way she flips her dark brown curls and how her full hips swing gently from side to side while she walks, and every other normal teenage boy would be laying on the table drooling at her backside by now, but then again every other normal teenage boy wouldn't be in an extremely girly café to have breakfast with another man who calls him darling.

„What's up with you, darling? You seem so tense," Magnus says, and I look at him dumbfoundedly. He smiles and then reaches out, smoothing the crinkles that formed on my forehead while I was thinking. A shiver runs down my spine when his warm palm connects with my skin, and I pull back quickly.

„Stop calling me darling, will you?" I grumble, trying not to show any sign of the effect he has on me.

„Your wish is my command, angel," he smirks, making me gnash my teeth with adoration, embarrassment and anger all at the same time. He doesn't seem to ever take me seriously.

I have just prepared a sassy respond when Lacey arrives, setting down a plate with a bunch of pancakes in front of me. She gives me a smile, looks at Magnus and says: „Don't break this one's heart, Bane. He's pretty cute."
He just grins back at her and mutters something I can't quite understand, being distracted by the delicious smell of the pancakes, but it was either a sexual innuendo or exactly what Lacey wanted to hear because she laughs, throwing her head back in a seductive manner. It must be the latter, though, because she pats his shoulder, says „Good," winks at me and walks away. I watch her and try to behave like any other teenage boy would. Like I should.

I try to imagine her full lips on mine. I try to get turned on by her full, rich laugh, her girly scent or her long legs. I try to think of the way her low-cut shirt brings out her boobs in all the right ways.

Instead I think Nice shoes.

Nice shoes.

What the hell is wrong with me?! I shake my head, letting out a frustrated sigh, eventually focusing on the food. Magnus flashes me a smile and says, „Enjoy your meal, darling", but I am too busy admiring my breakfast to give him another angry stare. I just nod and then dig in.

And it is the best fucking breakfast I've ever had.

Magnus was right. These are the best pancakes I've ever eaten. They are thick and golden, with soft, almost fluffy dough and taste so rich, so perfect I almost moan out loudly. The only thing that keeps me from doing so is that my mouth is, in fact, full of said delicious pancakes. They even make the Latte Macchiato taste acceptable, a fact that surprises me more than anything else since there's not much in this world that I hate as much as Latte Macchiato.

But I drink it. And I actually like it. Maybe that's because of the pancakes, or because they're playing one of my favorite songs, or because this whole place is lovely, or because of Magnus. No, scratch that last one.

I am a guy. I am not gay. I am not supposed to enjoy another guy's company that much because I, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, am not gay.

Magnus finishes his food, setting his fork down gracefully, licking a bit of scrambled egg off his fingers. Okay, maybe I am gay. I definitely do enjoy his company, even when we're just eating in silence, and right now he looks so hot yet so innocent I'm this close to jump him and take him here and now. Then he looks up, catches me staring and damn, there's that smirk again.

I find myself choking on the last bits of pancake when he licks his fingers almost seductively, a gesture that would look stupid on anybody else but actually looks not only cool, but super-hot on him. His eyes never leave my face and I start sweating.

I will spend all day with him. And the night. And the day after that. And the night after too, probably.

I start to cough when the realization sinks in. I am going to spend so much time with him, it's really just a matter of hours. He will get me, and he knows. He knows.