Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, I'm busy busy. :P This was actually a chapter suggested by an anonymous reviewer, and since I couldn't come up with a good prompt for the letter C (my original prompt was going to be "cabs" after watching those Icebreaker mint commercials...I invisioned in my head a taxicab make-out scene between Magnus and Alec, but since I suck at smut I have no idea what I was thinking) and decided to use this one. Honestly, this is probably a short episode of pure crack but...well, whatever. I'll make up for it next time. ;)

I hereby disclaim every copyrighted thing mentioned in the following chapter...and Icebreaker mints, because I really don't want to get my ass sued off.


C is for Cowboy
"I happen to know Chuck Norris personally, and you shan't insult him in my presence."

It was the king of lazy days, a sluggish span of twenty-four hours in which a person accomplishes absolutely nothing and makes every other day of their life seem incredibly successful by comparison. It was that day when the couch refused to relinquish its squishy, fluffy grip, when the temperature under the blanket was just warm enough without being stuffy, when the pillows were positioned exactly right and the mindless marathon of television shows were too compelling to abandon. It was when all this happened, all at once, and the thought of actually doing something productive was too much to handle.

They hadn't even risen from the couch, where they'd inevitably fallen asleep the night before after watching a miscellaneous array of timeless films that Magnus vehemently insisted left Alec's childhood inconclusive until he partook in them. Chairman Meow curled daintily in the dip that separated the lower half of their bodies, where he could procure the most warmth and feel the most encompassed.

By some unfortunate default the television had switched to the WGN America channel in the early hours of the morning, and they were too comfortable to upset the delicate balance of pillows by so much as twitching a finger. Walker Texas Ranger wasn't unbearable, but the valiant Western hero's adventures weren't exactly to Alec's taste.

Magnus grinned as the bearded actor performed what he called a 'round-house kick' and knocked the shady antagonist into a table, shattering all the wood.

"That's improbable," said Alec critically, experienced in throwing demons (and occasionally Jace, when they were training and he became inexplicably irritating) into tables. "A sturdy table like that might tip over, but the wood wouldn't split in half."

"It's TV, dear," Magnus sighed. "And '70s TV at that. Go easy on them. Besides, anything is possible when it comes to Chuck Norris. Except his defeat."

"You know," Alec said with indifference, "I never really understood the big deal with Chuck Norris. He's just an actor, right? Simon treats him like he's some kind of god."

Magnus turned so he was facing Alec, who was taken back at the look of disgust the warlock was giving him. "I cannot believe you just said that. Chuck Norris is unadulterated power manifested into a human form. It is said that he possesses the force of one hundred hurricanes in only his pinkie. He is capable of obliterating the entire universe with a single round-house kick. He eats bullets for breakfast and uses a toothpick forged from pure iron to pick the bits out of his teeth. The static electricity from his beard could power the entire East Coast. There isn't a single word to describe Chuck Norris other than his own name."

"...I think you might be exaggerating," Alec deadpanned.

"Not even a little," Magnus protested. He looked enthralled with his testimony, rapidly shaking his head up and down in assent. It was hurting Alec's shoulder a bit.

Yet he didn't feel like relenting. "There's no way that a mundane could do all that."

"Chuck Norris isn't an ordinary mundane," Magnus explained. "He is exceptional and special in every way."

"Really?" Alec drawled sarcastically. "Well, according to Luke and Clary, Bruce Lee could hand Chuck Norris's ass to him any day."

This outrage was enough to galvanize Magnus into motion. He shot into an upright position and glared at Alec even as Chairman Meow jumped five feet into the air and landed upon his lap with claws equipped for battle. The cat hissed temperamentally when he realized that there was no danger and leaped in a graceful arch off the couch, treading into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Blasphemy!" Magnus declared. "What kind of people have you been consorting with, Alexander? Don't let them tell you such lies!"

"Their words, not mine. But still, how do you know Bruce Lee wouldn't win? From those movies you made me watch he seems pretty capable."

Magnus gestured wildly to the television screen, but it was on a commercial. "Chuck Norris is capable! And this is him going easy on people."

"It's also scripted."

"So are all of Bruce Lee's movies! And Chuck Norris is a certified in martial arts."

"I dunno...Bruce Lee seems pretty tough."

Magnus's mouth shrank into a hard line. He tossed his head. "I happen to know Chuck Norris personally, and you shan't insult him in my presence."

"You do not know Chuck Norris personally," Alec stated without infliction.

"Begone, foul incubus! Your soul is contaminated. You shan't tempt me with your flirtatious challenge!" Magnus glanced down at Alec's shirtless torso. "Or impressive musculature."

"I'm not sure what's more ridiculous," Alec considered. "The fact that you've used the word 'shan't' twice within the span of two minutes or that you're actually banishing me for suggesting that Bruce Lee might - "

"Don't even say it," Magnus hissed in warning.

" - that Bruce Lee might beat Chuck Norris in a - "

Magnus administered one quick tap to the middle of Alec's forehead, and with a small burst of blue sparks the Shadowhunter's head lolled to the side as he sank into unconsciousness. The warlock let out a little breath of relief. He glanced at Chairman Meow who, upon discovering that no one had followed him into the kitchen to pour food into his bowl, came back to investigate the delay.

"Don't look at me like that," Magnus sniffed. "I had to do it. There's no telling what would happen if he finished that sentence. I really don't want to waste my one personal favor from Chuck Norris on Alec's stubbornness."

The cat just blinked. Why wasn't his person coming to serve him breakfast?

"Now," Magnus continued, dramatically throwing the covers away and standing up in one fluid movement. "Chairman Meow, you hold down fort. I need to go knock some sense into a certain redheaded girl and her mother's werewolf boyfriend."


Alec blinked his bleary eyes. The room spun violently around him. He gripped the edge of the couch, fighting down a surge of nausea. Vaguely he realized the colorful blur around him was the interior of Magnus's apartment. By the Angel, he cursed to himself, what the hell happened?

He sat up on his elbows once the room became stationary. Magnus was nowhere in sight which, considering the circumstances, was probably not a good thing.

Chairman Meow appeared from behind the television. He walked on his hind legs, his snowy front paws resting on the holster of the shiny leather belt at his waist. The cat peered at Alec from under the rim of the light brown ten-gallon hat on his head, revealing the brick-colored beard bushing out from his chin.

"Mow?" he said inquiringly. Even his quiet mew had a Southern twang to it.

Alec blinked, tilted his head, and blinked again. The cat remained the same, his bright green eyes staring, it seemed, straight into the depths of Alec's soul. "Chairman Meow," he groaned, "I don't suppose you can tell me what the hell Magnus doped me up on?"

Chairman Meow reached in his beard and procured a small gray mouse dressed in white cotton clothes with a black sash tied around his waist. Again, Alec blinked. Was it just him, or was there something distinctly Asian about the mouse?

Alec sank back into the pillows and threw an arm over his eyes. His head was pounding. He was going to go back to sleep, even if he had to ignore the sounds of Chairman Meow battling the mouse in martial-arts get-up to do so.