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Alec and Magnus' weeks in the small mountain town ran on smoothly, and before long they were on their way back to town. Magnus was a good driver, but a very reluctant one, so Alec found himself at the wheel of their large black car as usual. He didn't mind - in fact he loved to drive, especially if he got to choose the car - and their trip was pleasant.
Back when they met, Magnus had used to have a very dreary car for must-travels when he was too impatient or too independant for a driver, but ever since the Alfa Romeo Disco Volante he'd bought Alec as a one-year anniversary present, he had let Alec do the decision making on everything vehicle-related.
"Do you mind?" "Hmm?" Alec asked in turn, brought out of his musings by his husband's voice. "Do you mind?" Magnus repeated, "Going back to New York, to the loft? I know you've never felt quite at home there. You always refer to it as mine, not ours," he added.
"Because it is yours, Magnus," Alec noted pointedly, seeing his husband frown from the corner of his eyes. "That's not a bad thing," he explained, still keeping his eyes on the road, "but it is true. You had the place long before you met me, and you don't feel the need to hide that previous life from me! I've always felt welcomed there, even though it is yours. Maybe because," he amended. Ignoring the fact that Magnus was watching him very closely, he pointed out one last thing. "I might never call it ours, but I do call it home," he noted, and he didn't need to watch him to know that Magnus was smiling.
The drive back to the city was long, and they made sveral stops along the way, mostly because they could, but both men enjoyed it. Magnus took great pleasure in encouraging his husband to eat greasy on-the-go food the martial-arts-teacher normally found too unhealthy, not that Magnus usually ate that way himself, either. He had used to dance the ballet as a younger man, and while he'd given that mostly up around the time of him meeting Alexander, Magnus was still an avid practitioner of a ballet-inspired martial art and so called "wizard's tai chi".
When they finally reached Magnus' penthouse suite, stars were out - hidden as most of them were by the light pollution - and Magnus noted his Alexander yawning as they took their laptop and overnight bags up to the flat, along with the Chairman's cat carrier and an equally sleepy Church.
Magnus settled his own things, so used to travel after all these years, and let his cat out so that he could reaquant himself with his familiar surroundings, and then he leant against the door frame and watched silently as Alexander cared for his dog and unpacked mechanically. When he yawned the third time in less than a minute, Magnus finally stepped in.
"Leave it for tomorrow, darling," Magnus stepped up close to his husband, so that he could whisper the words seductively into his ear, "and come to bed. You need sleep. Come on." Alexander went unusually easily, asleep within a minute after Magnus had coaxed him to bed. Smiling softly, Magnus got himself ready as well, and joined his deeply sleeping husband in bed. It was good to be home, but he was really fine with wherever, as long as Alexander was there.