The Institute
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare. There are a few original characters in this story, but I'm trying to make them few and far between, just as a personal challenge. How many of TMI characters can we fit in the Institute?
A/N: I actually wrote this chapter right after I published the last one. For whatever reason, I decided it wasn't right and I just sat on it for a while. Granted, it's a lot of internal debate on Alec's part, but I don't think it's that bad? It was necessary for continuing the Malec. But I promise more action in the next chapter, OK? Lemme know what you think.
Chapter Eleven: Indecision
"So what does it mean, being a High Warlock?" Clary asked. Her short stature seemed to lose a few inches every time the circle of students glanced her way. It probably had something to do with the slouch of her shoulders. It was bad posture, even seated informally in the grass.
"Obviously, it means he's bad ass," the dark-haired boy to Clary's left pointed out, flicking their Professor a grin. It was honest brown-nosing, though the way the boy looked at the warlock made Alec scowl. He looked suspiciously between student and teacher.
Magnus Bane just seemed to let the compliment roll off him, shrugging his right shoulder as he picked at something under his nail. Or was he chipping at the polish?
"It means I don't have to go door to door peddling my wares."
"So, you just sit around in your cushy flat and make the good people of New York come to you when they're in a bind?" Jace asked. Alec twitched at his tone, definitely mocking.
Again, a barely affected shrug from the warlock, still intent on his fingernails. "The flat isn't so cushy, but the job pays the rent - which is insanely high for Williamsburg."
"Brooklyn," Alec said, with a disapproving frown.
Thing is, Alec didn't realize he'd said it out loud. It was the first time he'd spoken up since his one-word earlier. This time Magnus Bane lifted his chin and stared at the young shadowhunter with intense green-gold eyes.
With eyes like that, it always looked intense. But he really was staring at Alec. Alec tried not to back down or look away, though he could feel his face heating up. The sweat ran down the curve of his back, tickling his spine. He was already burning up from the layers of cotton and polyester under the late morning sun.
The stare lasted so long, Alec's fingers started to dig into his palms. He could feel Jace's eyes on his face, probably waiting for him to tell the Downworlder off, professor or no. Alec wished he could, something along the lines of 'what the hell are you looking at?' or 'eye problem?'. But he'd never mouthed off to a teacher in his life, and though Magnus Bane didn't quite seem to fit the bill, Alec wasn't going to tarnish his record now.
"That's right," the warlock finally replied in a lazy drawl, mouth turning up at the corners. He was smiling, his eyes flickering, so that his lashes swept down, gaze lowering and panning back up. Alec moved only to blink and tighten his jaw.
"Uptown boy, yourself?" Magnus asked of Alec. The question was so informal for the class setting, Alec clearly balked.
Before he could stammer through an answer, Isabelle was asking the professor a question about the neighborhood where he lived, something about the parties.
Alec sank back onto his heels, feeling lightheaded. What was going on? Maybe he was just flustered and being paranoid, but the staring, the down-up looks, the personal questions, the winking - it was all starting to add up in Alec's mind. The fact that it was just starting to was probably a testament to the fact that Alec was very, very sexually repressed and often chose to ignore when other people were paying him attention. Any kind of attention had become an inconvenience and an annoyance, but it didn't register as anything else.
Isabelle and Jace seemed to bask in the attraction of other people. Alec was oblivious to it. Actually, he was in denial. But it's not like Magnus Bane was trying to be subtle.
Sweat beaded above his upper lip. Alec impatiently swiped at the moisture, mulling over the shock of this new information. He didn't know what to feel about it. He certainly didn't know what to do about it.
A part of him wanted to storm inside as soon as class had ended and demand to speak to the headmaster. And if he still hadn't returned to the Institute from his unexplained absence, then maybe Alec would go to Professor Starkweather. He ought to know that one of his staff was hitting on first-years. That just wasn't done! It was completely inappropriate, not to mention stressful for the student involved.
But was that really what he was feeling? Stressed? Repulsed? Indignant?
No. That was the anger talking.
Did it really bother him that their Professor was paying him special attention? Yes...and no. It was rude to stare, and Alec didn't like the whole class seeing him do it. They had to know it wasn't just curiosity. Alec wasn't much to look at - he certainly wasn't that fascinating! Isabelle and Jace were going to harass him the minute this was over, and that's really what Alec couldn't stand. The embarrassment, the teasing.
Because it was the first time that he could remember, that anyone had looked at him like that.
If only it wasn't a flashy warlock doing the looking. And his professor, at that.
And it would be nice if it wasn't so very public. Really, everything about the scenario was wrong. If Jace looked at him like that, it would be perfect. If some random boy looked at him like that, preferably with no one else looking, Alec thought maybe that would be OK.
But not like this.
Maybe he was imagining it. Reassuring thought, that. Maybe he was making too much of the attention he received from the warlock. He was weird. No one would deny that. And he probably looked at every boy in an uniform like that. Alec was just blowing it out of proportion. He was no more fascinating to Magnus Bane than the flecks of paint chipping from his perfectly manicured fingernails.
This little inner-peptalk made Alec feel marginally better. It wouldn't spare him the torment from Jace and Isabelle, but at least he was convinced that his professor was not crushing on him, which would save him a trip to the headmaster's office, possible mediation with the high warlock himself, and even being forced to leave the school before the first day was out.
Alec shuddered at the thought, very glad that was not the case. He couldn't imagine such a shameful outcome, a failure from the very start.
There was movement behind them, coming from the main building. The heavy door leading outside was being shoved open. A train of students promptly filtered out into the yard.
"Time's up, baby cakes," Magnus Bane drawled from his reclined position on the park bench. He threw in a dismissive gesture, giving the class permission to scatter.
Alec realized he'd completely missed out on the last few minutes of class. But hopefully it was nothing vital. The actual lesson had ended half the way through, without so much as an outline or some idea of how they would be spending the remainder of the term.
Alec was starting to wonder if Downworlder Relations would be the Institute's version of a free period. Aside from Alec's discomfort concerning the professor and his intense eyes, that might not be so bad. The memorization involved in Demonology sounded hardcore. Obviously, there would be at least one class with a physical component - probably several. His father had mentioned combat training, which in his day had been a mixed class conducted to both first years and upperclassmen. Jace had looked forward to the idea of sparring with people other than him, giving him the chance to show off, and it was an excuse to pair off with someone other than Alec.
Although that was necessary for their training, Alec didn't completely welcome the idea like Jace did. He was fine with their small group. He didn't mind training side by side with Jace and occasionally Isabelle, and no one else. But that's not how it was going to be at the Institute. The classes might be small, but it was no longer just about the three of them.
Point being, with other classes on his mind, and his body devoted to training, if it meant Alec was forced to drink a cup of coffee each morning between classes and had to tone out the tedious conversations between the warlock and Alec's chatty classmates, then he'd tolerate the occasional staring and keep his head down.
Problem solved, further embarrassment averted. It wasn't going to be awkward. It definitely wasn't going to jeopardize his opportunity to graduate from the Institute and follow in his parents' footsteps.
Armed with his new resolve, Alec got up smoothly and dusted off his trousers, making a face at the smudges left from grass stains.
Jace was shrugging back into his uniform jacket, straightening his tie. Alec fought the impulse to offer to help him with the tie. Jace's fingers made quick work of straightening the knot, without the aid of a mirror, as if they all wore suits every day. No big deal.
Alec was glad he hadn't thought to touch his own tie. He did readjust his jacket against his shoulders, the little movement fanning cool against against his back, where his shirt was sticking to his moist skin unpleasantly. Ugh. He could really go for a shower and change of clothes.
But obviously that wasn't on the agenda. The class was already filing back inside.
Sighing, Alec felt back into step with his sister, ignoring the pointed looks she directed his way. At least she had the good sense to remain silent. For now.
