Alec's nostrils flared while he waited near the door, smelling something…burnt? He tried to listen for movement in the kitchen. There was a soft creak, something being set down. Clang of metal against metal. A cabinet opening, old hinges squeaking in protest. Magnus was humming.
Chairman Meow came back out of the bedroom, bored. He followed the warlock into the kitchen, obviously curious too about what was going on.
The refrigerator clanged open, and Magnus chuckled. "I know what I'm doing." Was he talking…to the cat?
"Do you…uh…need some help?" Alec called, hoping Magnus wasn't cooking or anything. He wasn't hungry, and he wasn't sure if Magnus was any better at it than Isabelle. Only, he'd make himself eat whatever Magnus made, swallow and bear it because he didn't want to disappoint him. His stomach twisted.
"No, no!" he called back, something else clanking against the counter. "I've done this before." He laughed a little to himself. "Just not by hand."
"You mean, with magic?"
"It does seem to cut down on the mess."
"Huh. You don't really seem like much a clean freak," Alec replied. And that was an understatement. Magnus didn't seem to care much at all about keeping his place neat. Maybe he even liked it this way. But couldn't he just…snap and set it all right? With all the traffic coming through his flat, Alec figured it might be a higher priority.
"And you are," Magnus retorted, leaning out of the doorway briefly to wink at Alec. It wasn't a question. The shadowhunter shrugged and Magnus chuckled, ducking back inside the kitchen.
"Acceptance is the first step toward admitting you have a problem…"
"Cleaning up after yourself isn't a bad thing," Alec defended, walking forward. "Which reminds me…what is that stuff on your front door? And downstairs?" He tried to make light of it, now that he knew it wasn't the warlock's blood, or traces of some demonic intruder.
"What?" Magnus asked, his back to Alec. The kitchen was just as he expected – things out all over the counter, dirty dishes piled in the sink, a trail of cat food circling the bowl (Magnus's fault, he assumed, not Chariman Meow's). The floor could desperately use a broom and a mop with bleach. The whole place could afford to be thoroughly disinfected.
It just didn't add up. Magnus wasn't sloppy with his own appearance – his face looked like it took a while to put on, and he picked his clothing with care. He couldn't even imagine how much effort went into his hair. But everything outside of his own body, it was a wreck. Like his personal grooming and his busy schedule didn't leave time for anything else.
"You didn't see it? It's all over the floor, and the doors, and I think I saw some of it on the stairs."
Magnus turned around to face him, extending one hand. His fingertips were tipped in some sticky, dark brown liquid, which dripped to the floor at his feet. Alec wrinkled his nose.
"Did it look like this?"
"Kind of. What is that?"
"Chocolate syrup," Magnus replied with a snicker.
"Chocolate?"
"Mhm."
Magnus's mouth curved and he lifted his hand, palm up, and slid his pointer finger into his mouth, sucking from the fingertip progressively down to his middle knuckle, coming back up and licking his lips. Any trace of the chocolate was gone. Then he wrapped his mouth around his finger again, sucking the remnants from the base of the same finger.
Alec was spellbound. He stared, eyes gone wide.
"Want some?" Magnus purred, tongue darting out again, catching against the corner of his lips.
The shadowhunter shook his head, face warming.