Author's Note: Extra long chapter I promised you guys! :) I just found out that they're coming out with a Mortal Instruments movie! What does everyone think of the cast? Most of them are British (because Cassie Clare hales from England, you think?) so I don't know many of them from anything my sorry American butt has watched. But just by appearance I like who they've picked...except Magnus. I'm a little apprehensive about Magus. But then it's going to be hard for anyone to capture Magnus's essence. I just know that they better not cut any Malec out of the movie, or I might have to start a riot.


V is for Victim:
Magnus has been the Lightwoods' visitor before, but never as "the boyfriend."

There were very few modern rituals that Magnus was unfamiliar with. The constant stream of easily accessible information and resources that the twenty-first century was founded on educated him in various ways, through experience or otherwise. There was very little that Magnus would not try just for the sole purpose of trying it.

Meeting his boyfriend's family, however, was something he hadn't prepared for.

He'd already met all of them of course, on various occasions. Those occasions were usually on a strictly professional basis. Like any respectable Nephilim, the Lightwoods did not openly associate with Downworlders unless it was necessary. Particularly not flamboyant, powerful warlocks who charged an excruciating amount for his services and left a trail of glitter in his wake.

So when Alec informed him that his parents had formally invited him to the Institute for dinner, Magnus was thoroughly stunned. He had numerous questions he'd liked to have asked ("Crap, what did I do this time? They didn't see that text I sent you last week, did they? Are they administering some kind of restriction on the amount of glitter that Downworlders can buy?") but the first thing he blurted out was simply, "Why?"

Alec shrugged. Evidently he was unimpressed with his parents' request. "They want to get to know you better, I guess. Since we're dating. It was actually Isabelle's idea, but I don't think she'd intended for them to take it seriously. They were ragging on her about sneaking off to go to some werewolf party, and somehow she managed to steer the conversation to the two of us and how they apparently should redirect some of the interest they've invested into her personal life to mine."

"And that worked?"

"By the Angel, no. She's grounded for two weeks, and raising hell about it too. I don't think she can go an hour without telling someone how unfair her life is." Alec sighed at Isabelle's childishness. His superiority complex concerning his younger siblings was one thing that Magnus found extremely amusing, while others found it extremely irritating. He was, after all, barely two years older than his sister. But Isabelle also had a maturity about her and Alec had an innocent nativity that made the gap seem even less significant.

"Don't patronize her," Magnus warned. "Being a sixteen-year-old girl can be tragically devastating. I've watched enough reality television to know."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Anyway, they were thinking about tomorrow night. What do you say? We're having lasagna."

Magnus grinned. As if the menu would influence his decision. "Isabelle isn't cooking, is she?"

"We make an effort not to poison our guests the first time they come over for dinner."

"Then I'll be there."


The next morning Magnus rose exceptionally early to prepare for his dinner with the Lightwoods. He was surprisingly excited about this opportunity. Not necessarily to get to know them better (he was fairly certain he knew most of them relatively well) but because of the implications of the invitation. Alec was an anomaly in the Nephilim world. A lot of Shadowhunters trifled with Downworlders, but there were few who actually developed serious relationships with them. And Magnus only heard of two other gay Shadowhunters in his lifetime, both of whom remained closeted until they were well into their fifties and on the brink of retirement. The fact that Alec was dating a gay warlock was big, very big, especially in the esteemed Lightwood family. After kissing him in the Accords Hall, Alec often pretended like his parents' opinion didn't bother him. Magnus knew it did.

So that they were inviting him over for dinner to scrutinize him was both terrifying and satisfying. It indicated that Maryse and Robert were setting aside their prejudices and were prepared to accept Magnus as a viable replacement for whatever Nephilim girl they'd secretly hoped would catch Alec's eye. If, of course, the warlock met their standards, which would be nearly impossible to meet.

But Magnus was willing to try if it would put Alec's mind at ease.

He showered and scrubbed all the makeup and glitter from his face. Wrapped in a towel, he spent nearly two hours picking out his outfit. He wanted to be subtle, but not too formal, and not too casual. The Lightwoods had seen his fabulous outfits in the past, but recently he had stuck to gray suits in their presence to show Alec he could behave.

Eventually he decided on khakis (which he didn't even know why he owned), a white button-down collared shirt, a blue-and-gold striped tie (for a spot of color) and loafers. He wore no makeup, no glitter, and his hair remained tamed.

When he went to pet Chairman Meow, the cat hissed and ran from his outstretched hand.

"Yes, I know," he sighed miserably. He could already tell it was going to be a dismal night.

Alec arrived early in the afternoon. When he spotted Magnus and assessed his wardrobe, he raised his eyebrows. "Magnus, what are you wearing?"

"You don't like it? I thought that it was very parent-appropriate. It's the tie, isn't it? Too much pop? I can go get another one."

"No, that's not what I mean." Alec stepped forward and loosened Magnus's tie with a smirk. "You don't have to dress like a middle-aged accountant to meet my parents. They already know all about you and your...antics. They want to get to know the real you, even if it means they consume a bit of rogue glitter with their pasta. Just be yourself, okay?"

Magnus smiled as Alec unknotted the tie with a sharp tug. He wrapped his arms around the Shadowhunter's neck and purred, "I might need some help getting undressed," in his ear.

"It would be my pleasure," Alec chuckled. He began to unbutton Magnus's shirt with practiced fingers. He fumbled when the warlock tugged on his earlobe with his sharp teeth and let out an involuntary noise.

"You might have to tell your parents we're going to be a little late," Magnus murmured, deftly unbuttoning Alec's pants.

"But...dinner's not until six."

Magnus smirked. He backed the Shadowhunter against the wall, probably with more force than necessary, and said against his mouth, "Yes, I know."


Alec led Magnus down the path to the Institute at ten minutes before seven o'clock. He'd called Isabelle sometime around five-thirty to tell her that Magnus was caught up in some dangerously volatile negotiations with a group of vampires and werewolves and would be late. He could almost hear her rolling her eyes over the phone, but she said that she'd lie to their parents for him. Magnus expressed his thanks before Alec had to hang up.

Magnus changed, eventually, into his usual eccentric attire, although he did tone it down. His tight jeans were without rips or tears, his shiny black button-down only showed a little of his chest, most of which was obscured by silver jewelry. His belt was black with purple studs, to match his purple high tops and amethyst rings.

As a reflex Magnus tried to pull his hand out of Alec's as they neared the entrance, but Alec just entwined their fingers with a smile. "It's okay," he said. Magnus wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort.

Alec pushed the door open and tugged Magnus inside. No one was waiting for them except for a blue Persian cat three times the size of Chairman Meow. Magnus looked around the open cathedral. Not much had changed since his last visit. To him it would always be a dusty old church and remind him of his father, like all dusty old churches did. He hoped that the rest of the Institute wouldn't be so obviously holy.

"Church," Alec said, addressing the cat, "show us where everyone is, please."

The cat jumped up and padded away. Magnus gave Alec a look. "Did you just say 'please' to your cat?"

"He's very temperamental," Alex explained as they followed the feline. "He gets all huffy if you don't. Takes you to the wrong people."

The 'everyone' that Alec requested turned out to be Maryse, cooking in the kitchen. Magnus was utterly baffled. When Alec had said his mother was cooking dinner, the warlock pictured her in her usual black Shadowhunter garb with her hair in a sharp bun, savagely chopping vegetables with a lethal clever. He never envisioned a domestic Maryse, but she was standing right in front of him, pulling bread sticks out of the oven. She was dressed in a light blue skirt and white blouse, her hair braided and flung over her shoulder, wearing oven mitts and an apron. Magnus quite literally felt his jaw drop.

"We're here, Mom," Alec said. Maryse looked up from the bread and set it on the stove. She didn't beam warmly at Magnus, but then again he hadn't expected her to. She did remove an oven mitt and reach out a hand for him to shake.

"Magnus Bane, I'm glad you could make it," she said. "Alec, will you go get the others and tell them that the lasagna is almost done? Tell Robert to set the table for our guest."

She's just as commanding at home as she is on the field, Magnus observed dryly, watching with a sense of mild panic as Alec let go of his hand and turned down the hallway to fulfill his mother's ordinance.

It was only him and Maryse in the kitchen. Alone. Together. Magnus felt the urge to transport all the knives somewhere else for safekeeping.

She went back to the bread sticks and arranged them on a platter. The lasagna must have still been in the oven. "That smells amazing," Magnus said with genuine honesty. "I can't tell you the last home cooked meal I had. I appreciate you inviting me."

"Well, Robert and I realized that we know very little about you considering you've been...involved...with our son for a number of months," Maryse deadpanned. "We figured that this would be a good solution to that problem."

"Right," Magnus said awkwardly. "I'd like to apologize for that. Keeping it a secret. Alec didn't want me to say anything..."

"No, it is I who should be apologizing," Maryse said. Her busy hands stopped for a moment, poised over the bread. "I always realized that the Nephilim could be judgemental, but I never thought my son would be too afraid of his own family's scorn to admit to us that he was...interested in other men. I'll admit it's taken some adjustment, but we've come to accept it." She looked Magnus in the eye, setting her shoulders. "I confess, I'm proud of him. It must have taken a lot of courage for him to do what he did, knowing the possible consequences. I hope that you realize this also, Magnus."

"I do," Magnus acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "That's why I respected his wishes, and I don't hold it against him."

"He cares for you," Maryse said. "Very much. More than I've seen him care for anyone other than his own family. And he's happier now than I've ever known him to be."

Magnus smiled. "I know, Maryse. I love him, too."

"I should hope that you do," said Maryse, stroking the handle of a kitchen knife with her finger. "Because I assure you that if you break my son's heart, I will track you down and administer every form of torture I know again and again until you are nothing more than a trembling blob of ichor and glitter, Accords or no Accords. Do I make myself clear, Magnus Bane?"

Magnus can honestly say that he had never been more terrified of anyone in his entire life, mainly because he believed her threat to be genuine. Maryse Lightwood didn't bluff. He could only nod as she began chopping up tomatoes for the salad. The juice was an ominous familiar red.

Alec chose that moment to pop his head back inside the kitchen. "Everyone's at the table, Mom."

"Fantastic. Help me carry these in, will you?"

Alec nodded and took the bread from his mother. He offered Magnus the salad and frowned. "Are you feeling okay? You look pale."

"Fine," Magnus rasped, clearing his throat as he took the salad bowl. "It must just be the lighting in here. Come, introduce me to the rest of your family."

Alec shrugged and led the way out of the room. Maryse narrowed her eyes at Magnus as they left, the knife in her hand flashing dangerously. He scurried after Alec, nearly running into his back as they entered the dining room.

The table was large and ornate oak, beautifully crafted with intricate designs of lions and angels. The chandelier in the center was cut crystal, sparkling in the witchlight. There were ten seats. At the head of the table sat the stoic, silent form of Robert Lightwood, who regarded Alec and Magnus as they arrived with disinterested eyes. To his left was Isabelle Lightwood. She grinned and winked when she saw Magnus, but strangely enough this didn't make him feel any more welcome. Jace was stationed next to Isabelle, his arm draped casually across the back of the chair. He grinned and clapped his hands together when they entered with the food. "Finally! I'm starving!"

Alec slapped his hand when he reached for the bread. "Wait until Mom brings the lasagna in."

"But I'm hungry!" Jace complained as Alec set the bread down and took his place across from his parabatai. Magnus took the seat next to him. He realized he was still hugging the salad bowl and set that down with the bread. "We should have eaten an hour ago."

"Magnus was caught up in some warlock business that couldn't be avoided," Alec lied with surprising ease. Magnus wondered how often he used this excuse, and if his parents knew they were even sexually active.

Isabelle snorted.

"Yes, I was curious about that," Robert said earnestly, looking frankly at his guest. "How did those negotiations go?"

"Negotiations?" Magnus repeated blankly. Alec raised his eyebrows at him and nudged his foot under the table, unaware of the fact that playing footsies wasn't helping Magnus think any clearer. "Oh, right, those. Yes. Between the Night's Children and the Children of the Moon."

"Right," Robert slowly enunciated. "What was the argument about?"

"The vampires had reason to believe that the lycanthropes sabotaged their bikes, and wanted compensation for the damages," Magnus said. It was something that happened all the time anyway. "Quite dull, really, but you know how they are."

"Sounds dull," Jace drawled with a smirk at Alec. "An absolute bore."

Alec flushed and narrowed his eyes. Magnus grinned brilliantly. "It wasn't that dull. There were definitely some heated moments. Times when I could barely keep up. They were really going to town."

Alec dropped his head in his hands.

"I'm sure," Isabelle remarked. "Those vampires and werewolves are always ready to lay into each other."

"Oh, always ready. And sometimes it goes on for days at a time without any reprieve. The responsibilities of a warlock are very, very hard, but I manage."

"The Downworlders are lucky to have someone as helpful as you are," Isabelle continued, maintain a straight face. "I'm sure you're willing to bend over backwards to give them what they need."

"I can't take all the credit. My clients are very compliant, and usually willing to try anything to settle the negotiation."

Robert was oblivious to the hidden context behind this conversation, even as his daughter stifled giggles and his son was as red as the tomatoes in the salad. "What was the outcome of these negotiations?"

"Beneficial for both parties," Magnus replied. "In fact, one would almost say - "

Magnus was interrupted by the arrival of Maryse with a huge lasagna in her arms. She placed it on the table and sat down between her husband and Alec. "Finally ready. Everyone, dig in!"

They obliged eagerly. Maryse frowned and felt Alec's forehead as he emerged from his hands. "You're a bit feverish, Alec. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, it's - it's nothing."

The table was silent as they loaded their plates with lasagna. Magnus was uncomfortable; every time he glanced up from his plate, one of the Lightwoods looked away quickly as if they had stared at him. Once he caught them all doing it.

Once the silence became unbearable, Robert steered the conversation back to the fake negotiations. "So, how often do you handle these kinds of things between Downworlders?"

Alec nearly choked on a bread stick. Isabelle giggled hysterically, earning a look of strict rebuttal from her mother. Even Jace was having trouble keeping composure as Alec's face once again colored.

"Well, it depends on the circumstances of course, but I'd say usually four or five times a week," Magnus answered. It was clear to everyone except Maryse and Robert that Magnus was not talking about negotiations between vampires and werewolves at this point. "In fact, sometimes multiple times a day."

Maryse raised her eyebrows. "Wow. That's a lot."

"Vampires and werewolves have never been able to leave each other alone. They're always looking for an excuse to tussle. More than once they've made something up just to end up at my doorstep."

"I'm getting some water," Alec mumbled, standing up. "Does anyone else want anything?" He didn't really wait for an answer; in his haste to flee, he tripped over the leg of his chair and nearly face-planted into a wall. Magnus watched him leave with amusement. Alec was so cute when he got all flustered.

"No offense, Bane," Robert continued, shaking his head at his son's bizarre behavior, "but don't you think that these negotiations are better attended to by us?"

Jace and Isabelle simultaneously made a noise that faintly reminded Magnus of a hippopotamus in labor. Maryse slammed her hand down on the table. "What has gotten into you two today?" she snapped at them. "You're being incredibly rude to our guest."

"It's quite alright, Maryse," Magnus assured. Only centuries of practice ensured his composure, and even that façade was beginning to slip. "And I think that negotiations handled by Downworlders are best left to me. They're too trivial for the Nephilim. And if there were ever a problem out of my hands, I would certainly contact you."

This statement had not a stroke of truth, but Magnus decided that he had sufficiently entertained Alec's siblings with the intimate details of their sex life and spared his poor boyfriend from further mortification once he entered the room with a glass of water. Alec's head and shirt front were damp, which aroused enough curiosity to end the previous topic of discussion.

"Alexander..." Maryse said slowly. "Why are you wet?"

Alec seemed to think that the best course of action was denial. "What? I'm not wet."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

Everyone could clearly see that Alec was wet. Magnus pinched the saturated fabric of his god-awful sweater between his fingers when the Shadowhunter sat back down. "Then how do you explain this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Will someone pass the bread sticks?"

They decided to drop it, as Alec was obviously not going to talk. After everyone had finished eating and they were gathering the dirty dishes, Magnus commended Maryse on her cooking skills. Indeed, the lasagna tasted as good as it smelled. It was better even than Magnus's favorite Italian joint.

"Thank you," Maryse said, flattered. "It's my grandmother's recipe."

"She wouldn't let me help," Isabelle pouted.

"That's because she doesn't want to poison Magnus," Jace said. He gave the warlock a once-over with raised eyebrows. "Yet."

"You know what, you act all high and mighty but I don't ever see you in the kitchen," Isabelle retorted. "Why don't you go put on an apron and try it for yourself. Then you'll see it's not as easy at it looks."

"But, Izzy, there's the difference between you and me. I admit to myself that I'm a horrible cook. You have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that we only bash your cooking out of affection, which is most certainly not the case. We bash it because it deserves bashing."

"And out of affection," Alec added.

"But mostly the first one," Jace insisted.

"It's a shame, Jace," Magnus sighed with exaggerated remorse. "You would look absolutely fetching in an apron."

The words had slipped out unchecked, and only after an awkward silence pervaded the room did Magnus realize that such comments might not be acceptable in front of the Lightwoods' parents. He'd only meant it as a joke (it was admittedly true, although Magnus would rather see Alec in nothing but an apron), but it had caused evident discomfort. Perhaps the Lightwoods didn't like the reminder that Magnus and, by association, Alec were gay.

Jace deflated the tension by saying, "You know, you're right. I would look good in an apron."

Maryse and Robert took the soiled dishes into the kitchen. Magnus slumped back into his chair, uncharacteristically embarrassed. "Well, that was awkward," he said.

"Don't worry, you're doing great!" Isabelle encouraged.

"No, no, he's not!" Alec hissed. He converged on Magnus, looking scandalized. "What the hell were you thinking? 'Sometimes they make stuff up just to end up on my doorstep'?! I can't believe you would - and right in front of my parents - "

Magnus gave him a blank look. "Alec, darling, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Alec made an obscene gesture, face aflame.

"Speaking of which," Jace chuckled, "why did you come in here all wet?"

"I was...I took a cup of water and splashed it in my face," Alec muttered, hanging his head. He scowled when the others cracked up even harder. "Shut up! My judgment was compromised!"

"By what? A huge - "

Jace abruptly stopped talking as Maryse strode into the room. "Brownies or pie for dessert?"

"What kind of pie?"

"Apple."

The vote was unanimous. "Pie it is," Maryse said. "Robert is going to help me. Why don't you three go show Magnus around the Institute? We'll call you when it's done."

"I'm pretty sure you've seen most of what there is to see," Isabelle observed. "They must want us out of here so they can talk about you in peace."

"Well that's comforting," said Magnus dryly.

"Come on, we'll go to Alec's room! Have you seen that yet?"

"No, we really shouldn't go to Alec's room." It was no surprise that Alec himself was the one to argue. "Alec's room isn't clean, and Alec is pretty sure that Magnus has already seen his room."

"Once," Magnus snorted. "And Magnus doesn't think that counts, because he was too absorbed in healing Alec than looking around. Magnus agrees with Isabelle."

"Jace thinks we should stop talking in third person."

"You're out numbered, Alec," Isabelle quipped, grabbing Magnus's hand and skipping with him toward the elevator. "We're invading your room, whether you like it or not!"

"Hey! Wait, technically Jace didn't vote!"

"Yes, Jace did. Because Isabelle will talk in third person if Jace isn't on her side."

"Blackmail...I respect that," Jace said. He clapped a hand on his parabatai's shoulder. "Sorry, Alec, you're on your own."

Grumbling, Alec followed them into the elevator and up to his room. It wasn't really messy (he'd expected such a maneuver from Isabelle and/or Magnus, although he'd hoped that his uncleanliness would deter them) but it was embarrassing. Unlike Magnus's apartment's harmonious mold of modern and antique, Alec's room looked like something out of a home decor magazine whose primary subscribers were stuffy old men.

There wasn't much in the way of furniture: just twin bed shoved in a corner with a practical wooden nightstand, a dresser, and a desk. The bed was covered with a bedraggled quilt, faded sheets, and two pillows that needed replacing about three years ago. Around the desk were stacks of delicate leather-bound books that bored Magnus just by looking at them. They were probably mythology or battle tactics or demon anatomy. He had never once known Alec to read something entertaining. The walls were a nondescript beige, and the curtains hanging over the windows were plain navy blue cotton.

Isabelle sashayed over to the bed and flopped down on it as though it belonged to her. "So," she said, gesturing widely around her. "What do you think?"

"Everything makes sense now," Magnus said. Alec gave him a look. He was seriously regretting ever inviting the warlock over for dinner. Magnus grinned. "I'm only teasing, Alexander. You're usually not so serious at the apartment." He paused and considered the area. "You know what? I like it. It screams...you."

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended," Alec deadpanned.

"You should be flattered," Magnus said, pecking Alec's cheek. "You're very likable in a quaint sort of way."

"No PDA!" Isabelle chastised in mock seriousness.

Alec gave her a look of confusion. "What is 'PDA'?"

"Public Displays of Affection?" Isabelle exclaimed, as though it were common knowledge. She turned on Magnus. "Haven't you taught him anything?"

"More than you could ever know," Magnus said, earning a slap from Alec.

"Shouldn't it be 'PDOA'?" Jace inquired.

"Please, everyone knows that the 'of' is never included in acronyms."

"Why not? I'm sure that 'of' and 'the' and 'and' all feel neglected. How would you feel if you were left out all the time?"

"Jace, they're words. They don't have emotions," Alec said.

"But I'm sure that if they did they would understand and accept their sacrifice for the good of society," Magnus piped up.

"Oh! Hey, Magnus, you want to see something?" Isabelle reached into the drawer of Alec's nightstand, causing her brother to protest vehemently. She pulled out a framed photograph of Magnus and Alec in front of the Eiffel Tower. Magnus was, for once, without a costume. "He says it's his favorite!"

"Izzy!" Alec hissed as Magnus examined the photograph.

"Aw, how adorable," Magnus cooed. "I have this same one pinned to the wall in my ingredients room. Hey, in this picture you're wearing the clothes that we first met in."

"What, that sweater and jeans he wears every Friday?" Jace snorted. Alec made an unattractive face and snatched the photograph, depositing it back into his nightstand.

"That was a great party," Isabelle lamented. "You know, until Simon turned into a rat and got kidnapped by a coven of vampires. That part kind of sucked."

"Out of my jurisdiction," Magus disclaimed. "But I'm glad you enjoyed the actual party. It was one of my better ones before you Nephilim showed up. No offense."

"None taken," Isabelle said. "Investigations are a buzz kill."

"You know, there's one thing that's always bothered me about that night," Jace interjected thoughtfully. He turned to Magnus and pointed at Alec. "Why him?"

Magnus blinked. "I don't think I know quite what you mean."

"Why'd you decide to flirt with him?" Jace clarified. "I mean...why not me? You didn't know I wasn't gay. You could've gotten with all this." He gestured down at his physique enticingly.

There it was: the second awkward silence for the night. Magnus pursed his lips in consideration. "Have you ever heard of this thing called a 'Gaydar'?"

"No."

"Well, then we'll call it a gay man's intuition." Magnus grinned and threw his arm over Alec's shoulders. "Besides, how could I pass up an opportunity like all this?"

Alec just shook his head, blushing. Robert Lightwood poked his head in and, after narrowing his eyes a little at the arrangement, cleared his throat and declared that the pie was ready. The group migrated into the kitchen were Maryse was cutting a succulent apple pie and scooping some vanilla ice cream. She passed everyone a bowl.

"This is amazing!" Magnus exclaimed after his first bite.

Maryse actually laughed. "I'm glad you like it. This one is a recipe that Robert's mother gave me. It's easy. Alec knows how to make it; I'm surprised he hasn't made it for you yet. It's one of his favorites."

"Oh, sure," Isabelle sniffed. "Show Alec how to cook, but you won't show me."

"Isabelle, darling, I tried. But even under my supervision the pie somehow managed to acquire a strange purple color."

Jace perked up. "I remember that one! Church wouldn't even eat it!"

"You feed your cat rancid pie?" Magnus said. He glanced at the Persian in question, who was sprawled on the kitchen floor watching them eat the delectable desert jealously. "How do you do it, Church?"

Everyone laughed as the cat rolled over on his stomach. Alec caught Magnus's eye and smiled, a smile that said he had passed whatever implied test the Lightwoods had designed for him. The warlock felt a shocking wave of relief. Then he sighed. When did the opinions of uptight Shadowhunters start bothering him?

He figured out the answer when Alec's hand slid across the kitchen counter and curled around his own.