(Sorry, I'm at work and I'll try to sneak back on later to spell check and proof this one more time. But because I'm a willing slave to the readers, I will let you have this raw copy - because I don't want you to have to wait. So don't hold any errors against me. They will be fixed promptly. And if you're really good, next chapter will include more review replies. If FF doesn't eat them, of course)
Alec cracked one eye open, groaning at the stream of sun that flooded through. He squeezed his eyes shut again, seeing spots, and rolled over, forcing his face into the neighboring pillow.
Magnus. He could smell his clean hair there, in the cotton. While he recovered from the color shapes burned beneath his eyelids, Alec passed his hand over the pillow, stretching out beneath the covers. His toes touched a swath of silk. Magnus's pajama bottoms.
He laughed to himself, opening his other eye a fraction to confirm what he already knew. Magnus had left the bed a few hours ago – in a hurry to get back to the preparation for tonight's party. That was his thing, so he let him go. And surprisingly, when Magnus suggested he go back to sleep, Alec did. Second day in a row he'd slept well beyond the first light of dawn. He wondered vaguely if some sort of spell had been involved.
He wanted to be able to chide himself for being lazy, for spending more hours in bed than he could remember. But most of that time he hadn't spent alone – so Alec couldn't possibly feel guilty. Maybe he'd have to throw in extra training hours to make up for the time he spent lying on his back or his side, cuddling with Magnus, but he didn't want to give it up. It was worth the stiff muscles and an additional work-out later.
Waking up next to the warlock was almost as incredible as going to sleep together. Apparently they'd fallen asleep in a similar position, not long after that last round of languid kisses and fond nuzzling – their legs entangled, their arms overlapping, lying side by side, chest to chest, their faces inches apart on the same pillow, breathing matched in a happy rhythm.
At first, Alec wasn't sure he could sleep like that. What if his leg fell asleep in the middle of the night? What if he started to snore? What if he tightened his arm around Magnus in a dream and inadvertently hurt him? Would his hair tickle his face and wake him up?
But the longer they rested together without talking, and as the kisses slowed – the more sleepy and relaxed, and closer to still their bodies became, Alec stopped worrying about trivial concerns like that. He couldn't focus on them – and eventually he realized they were kind of silly.
He would be asleep soon, and then he wouldn't care. If they grew uncomfortable, they could always wake up and shift, problem solved. The snoring couldn't be helped. But he was pretty sure he didn't snore…
And Magnus had kept his word about the pajama pants. When he climbed out of bed in the morning, Alec - woken by the simplest movement and sound, had seen the wrinkle of black silk below his waist. Alec had smiled to himself, closing his eyes again while moving over to nuzzle the warm place that Magnus had just vacated. Apparently he'd left the pants to remember him by. Or as a place holder.
As if anyone else was going to breach this bed without a fight.
Speaking of, Alec really needed to get back. Morning exercise was important, and contrary to the routine they had forged these last few weeks, it wasn't typical to roll out of bed and break out into a run, rushing off to the next big battle cold-turkey.
Alec usually worked out in the training room, thwarting Isabelle's attempts to make breakfast. And on a rare occasion, Jace joined him.
A good warm-up was just the thing he needed after a lazy evening in. Smiling at the thought of working up a hard sweat – and trying very hard not to visualize what Magnus would have taken from that, Alec finally sat up in the bed, opening both eyes.
No wonder the sun had blinded him. Magnus had French doors opening out to the balcony. That was practically unheard of in the architecture here. Narrow windows, which were much more practical, were the order of the day. But it had been nice to step outside and lean into the railing, and watch the city.
Stretching, he reached up over his head, fingertips almost brushing the cloth canopy while he felt his joints successively pop down from his wrists to his shoulders, and his arching back. Mm. Much better.
Alec slid out beneath the warmth of the comforter, shivering initially at the chill of the room. The fire had gone out, and with windows like that, no wonder the insulation sucked. It was nice that he hadn't even felt the cold while he was still in bed.
Padding quickly across the cold floor, Alec picked up his discarded pants and crossed the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. At least the smaller, windowless room was warmer. Even if the surfaces were not. He didn't bother with a shower - figuring he'd take a hot one after the work-out. So he brushed his teeth and combed his fingers through his hair half-heartedly, just pushing it out of his eyes really. Not bothering with the wild knots or the morning frizz. Alec snickered at his own reflection.
You look like a piece of work.
Oh, yeah? Well, it still got a warlock into bed.
How long are you going to be pushing that line?
Lip twitching, Alec flicked off the light and headed back out into the hall. One last thing he needed to do. Make the bed. He rarely overlooked the chore, even when he was short on time. Making the bed was essential. He even knew hospital corners.
He wasn't quite sure what to do with so many layers, though. There was the thick comforter, a thin blanket beneath at least two top sheets and a fitted sheet. And some kind of...decorative layer beneath that which was longer than the rest, peeking beneath the cover. He considered throwing it all off and starting from the beginning, but decided it would be easier to just tuck and fold what he could reach, and call it a day, rearranging the pillows in an orderly fashion before drawing the comforter back up, rising over them.
Perfect. Now where did he leave his jacket?
Oh, right. Downstairs closet. He headed down the stairs at a jog, smiling as he remembered the way they'd ascended them last night. Another sweet memory.
He opened the closet near the front door, removing his coat from its hanger. Magnus's cloak from the previous night hung right by it. He liked that, their stuff sitting together. Belonging side by side. Maybe when they got back, maybe Alec could work on leaving over necessary things like that at Magnus's apartment. Jackets and toothbrushes, and maybe a spare charger to his cell phone. Because he was always forgetting to charge it. And he couldn't leave Magnus's apartment the next day with a dead cell. He might miss his call, or his texts.
Alec locked the front door behind him after a moment's consideration. He assumed Magnus had the key on him. And if he'd forgotten, well, what a single lock to a High Warlock? A snap.
The sun was warm on his hair and face as he walked through the street back towards the Lightwoods' house. Passing people ackowledged him with nods, an occasional smile. A wave. He smiled back, hands in the pockets of his jacket, enjoying the light breeze - which he wouldn't have been able to experience in the same way, if he'd been wearing his usual sweater. Breeze through the filter of knitted holes just wasn't the same. Breeze against thin cotton...it made him shiver, but it was good. Refreshing.
Forty-five minutes later, he would have really enjoyed the respite of a cool breeze. Sweat ran down the sides of his face, glistened across his chest, flecked his back, rolling down his spine sticky trails and disappearing beneath the waistline of his loose pants. He stood still in the middle of the room, trying to calm his breathing. Just thirty seconds of focus, of slowed breathing, and Alec continued where he'd left off, bringing his leg up.
The series of kicks, of punches, of blocks, they were oddly quiet. His pants made a slight sound with the movement, and his breathing was synchronized with the exercise. The slender muscle across his chest tensed when his arm was extended, his torso twisting as he moved into a roundhouse kick.
He brought his bare foot down against the floor with little noise, then moved forward with a series of criss-crossing jabs, using the whole of his upper body to follow through with each punch. Then he was moving to his side, breathing in.
Treadmills and stationary bicycles were too mundane. Unless he had a sparring partner, this was how Alec exercised. It wasn't the same thing as training, which was instruction and practice. This was just a warm-up.
Ten minutes more of shadowhunter cardio, and he decided to throw in the towel. So to speak. He hadn't actually remembered to bring one. But he blotted his damp forehead with his arm, and raked his fingers back through his hair to get it off his face.
As he closed the door to the bathroom behind him, he wondered what Magnus was doing. Maybe sprinkling his oversized trees with colorful bits of confetti. Maybe stalking about the square with a clipboard, handing out tasks. Or maybe he was reclining in a lawn chair sipping on a fruity drink, watching the progress of those buzzing around him.
Probably not, though. Magnus wasn't lazy. Even if he did use magic to open doorknobs.
Smiling to himself, he twisted the taps until the hot water was pouring out of the faucet. A flick of another knob, and the jets turned on. Shedding his pants, Alec stepped under the spray, sighing in pleasure.
