Okay, so, please read, review and tell me what you think. Really, I need to hear feedback. Feedback=Awesomeness. This is randomness incarnate, but hopefully you'll figure out the theme eventually. Sorry if it's short, I'm planning on a lot of short, quick to update chapters, it's a long way from the end! Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they are owned by Cassandra Clare
Alec was fidgety. He tapped his foot against the floor, making a quick rhythm that thrummed against the undercurrent of easy conversation and the clatter of silverware. His fingers twisted a corner of red-and-white-checked tablecloth, making it curl and wrinkle when he let go. Isabelle shot him a look but he pretended not to notice. His sister rolled her eyes and rapped her knuckles against the table for silence.
Jace and Clary looked up, their hands twined like vines between their plates, their faces nearly identical masks of guilt. Alec's parents shifted their gazes from the menu to their daughter, who surveyed them all with a haughty tilt to her chin.
"I say we just order already," she said, playing with her hair, twirling it around her finger, so it glowed blue-black under the warm yellow lights. "I mean, Magnus is late enough already."
Alec closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.
"I am never late," called a familiar voice from across the room. Alec's head spun around, blood rushing up to paint his cheeks as what must have been the entire restaurant turned from their dinners to watch the warlock stride purposefully towards the corner booth.
Alec suppressed a groan. Magnus wore a finely tailored suit similar to the one Maryse had forced her son into, but it was dusted with a layer of glitter, reflecting back the lights like a million tiny mirrors. His waistcoat was electric blue, a candy-wrapper color that didn't come in the natural world.
"All the rest of you are just early." Magnus grinned and sank lithely into the seat beside Alec, waving away the venomous look Isabelle shot him, her eyes like blue needles piercing his skin.
Alec smiled. Why was it he could never stay mad? Maybe it was because the softness in Magnus' eyes made him melt every time he looked the warlock's way. Maybe it was because his heart blossomed every time their hands brushed "accidentally" under the table. Or maybe he was just a sucker.
"Hey Magnus," he said, his voice quiet and weak, his mother's stare a hammer on the back of his skull. Thwack, thwack, thwack. But Magnus' answering grin washed the ache away. His teeth gleamed, and his cat-eyes sparkled with the color of amber.
"Hello darling," Magnus cooed, lifting a thin, long-fingered hand to muss Alec's hair. Dark curls flopped in front of his ice-blue eyes. "You look wonderful." He played with the sleeve of Alec's jacket. "I knew you must have some decent clothes. Though,"—he shook his head and smoothed down the collar of Alec's shirt, clucking with dissatisfaction—"you still have to be taught how to wear them. Oh well." He beamed, tiny laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. It was the only sign of his immense age on his timeless face. "That's what you have me for, right?"
Maryse cleared her throat and Alec jumped in his seat, the legs of his chair making an ugly scraping sound as they were jerked over the floor. His mother was giving him a stern look, while behind her; Robert ran his eyes studiously over the wine list, whistling softly under his breath a tune Alec didn't recognize. Isabelle was tapping her thickly painted nails against the laminated menu, watching the pair of them with a look of abject boredom. Jace was grinning to himself, and Clary was glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.
Isabelle's lips hardly seemed to move as she spoke. "Are you ready to order now?"
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It was raining, big fat drops cascading from the sky and painting the world a dreary gray. Magnus was sheltered under the candy-cane-striped awning, watching the shimmering streams of water make a filmy screen between him and the street. There was a package under his arm.
"Thanks for coming," Alec said, shuffling up beside him, his hands tight fists in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as if he could make himself smaller. His hair was rain-darkened, plastered to the skin at his jaw and cheekbones. He looked pale and washed-out in his black suit, all harsh contrasts, like a photo taken in negative. He was heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Of course I came," Magnus snorted, and then caught himself. I don't snort, he thought. Nervous people snort, and I am not nervous. I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn, I don't get nervous. Shaking away the thought, he shifted the package into Alec's arms, the crinkle of paper and masking tape loud even in the thunderous rain. "Happy twentieth." Alec winced, as if the number was a punch to the face. Magnus smiled sadly. "I didn't know what to get you, but I hope you like it."
Alec picked at the paper with a ragged nail. "No," Magnus laughed, wrapping his fingers around Alec's hand and gingerly lifting it away, smiling as his skin prickled and his heart thumped erratically. "Open it later. Now go, before you ruin your suit in this wretched rain."