A/N: I am soooo sorry that I didn't update sooner! I wanted this chapter to be in one part- but it's turned into three! The last part was unforgivably short. I know it. I'm really sorry.

This is the last chapter about this aspect of the story… As much as I love Adam Lambert, I think it's about time for him to fill another story with glitter and amazing-ness.

I've been getting reviews asking for Clary to be less prudish, and it will get that way. There are two reasons it hasn't been so much yet.

1) My editor- and sister- is about a nun on the scale of slashy goodness. And 2) Alec is more reserved. I don't think he'd be writing "I want my boyfriend's dick inside me."

There will be more details, from here on out! I'm leaving out Clary's thoughts for this chapter. If you guys miss them (and I'll know if you do or not because you'll put it in the review you'll write! Sorry, but I'm a total review whore.) I'll put them back in. This is just an experiment.

Jeez! That's a long author's note. Sorry!

So… yeah! Enjoy!

Mmmm…. I could get used to this. My boyfriend's magic fingers were massaging my scalp, and I just didn't want them to stop. When he tugged on little sections of my hair, I could see why Magnus loved having my fingers in his hair. His unceasing, black-sparkle-painted fingers were putting me in an uncomfortable position.

"Nnnn" I can't believe that I moaned. I could feel the blood that had been rushing… south… being redirected to my face.

From behind me, Magnus's lips found my ear. "Feels good, doesn't it?" The smirk I knew he was sporting was evident in his voice. My blush disappeared again, heading back towards my 'nether regions'.

I couldn't do anything but mumble my agreement- I didn't have enough blood in my head to form a coherent thought and my boyfriend held me by the hair, effectively taking away my ability to nod.

There were another few minutes of the excruciating treat, and then Magnus deemed my hair done. "It's FIERCE!*" he squealed with delight.

I couldn't help but laugh. We had to stop watching reruns of Project Runway. Magnus had taken up a slightly unhealthy obsession with one of the designers from Season 4- a fiery little guy with by far the most talent. Christian Siriano was the guy's name, and even I could tell that he'd win.

I peeked into the massive mirror mounted on the wall, and I just crack up. I got my boyfriend's joke- he'd done my hair exactly like Christian Siriano's. A section of my hair had been pulled over and gelled stiff so it sort of hung over my eye. The back was spiked up in a tiny halo, but the sides where hanging straight. I could see tiny flecks of glitter from the gel.

By no means would I wear it this way every day, but I sort of liked it for concerts. I might even wear it like this for one of Magnus's parties- he parades me around anyways, but I can tell he always thinks I'm underdressed and underglittered.

"If you don't like it, I can undo it," he whispered. It was almost like he was afraid I'd ask him to take it out.

"No! I really do like it!" I gave him a quick peck on the cheek for reassurance. "I'm not saying I'll go through this every day, but I will wear it."

"I'm glad you like it sweetness." It was his turn to kiss me. "Now, if you don't mind moving so I can glitter up. Unless you want that too!"

I jumped right off of the vanity poof. I might have let him do my hair, but there was no way Magnus was getting near my face.

The steely focus he had when he was applying makeup was slightly frightening. Magnus's hands were flying between vials of glitter and bottles of clear gloss. I realized how completely lost I was when he started applying white shimmer across his cheekbones. What the hell was that for? Confused, I crossed the room and flopped down on the bed. Chairman Meow appeared from nowhere and started batting at my face.

The kitten and I "fought" for the twenty minutes it took Magnus to go from his natural self to a walking pile of glitter and eyeliner. He'd donned gold feather lashes and grey glitter**. If you'd have asked me five minutes ago if that particular color combo "went" I would have said no. Mags pulled it off, though. I guess he knows that kind of thing; it's not really a contest who has the better fashion sense.

"Do you like this, 'cause if you don't I was thinking about teal glitter…"

"You do realize that I'd kiss you right now if I wasn't afraid I'd mess up all your hard work, right?" Six months ago, I'd have been horrified with myself for saying something like that. Now, though, it just rolled off my tongue. It may have something to do with the twenty or so hours a day I spend with Magnus- I'm just more comfortable around him now.

I think I've seen my boyfriend blush about twice in our entire relationship, but he did when I said that. Trying to hide it with a chuckle and a hug, Magnus pranced to the other end of the room where his closet lay.

The first time I watched him pick out an outfit, I was astounded. The man had more clothes than entire countries, and I'm sure none of them were paid for. The closet was bigger than my entire room at the Institute. Clothes were thrown across the room, landing in pools of neon and fishnet. It took him almost an hour to get dressed. The entire ordeal baffled me. Like his loud-and-proud personality and complete lack of what my mother would call a mental filter, the Great Outfit Dilemma stopped bothering me after about a week. It was just Magnus being Magnus.

Chairman Meow and I resumed our battle while clothes rained down around us. We stopped several times to vote on the outfits Mags would model. I was starting to pick up some of his bad habits. I had a conversation- then an argument- with a cat.

All three of us finally reconciled over my personal favorite outfit: Magnus's rainbow leather pants and a white t-shirt. I expected a ton of jewelry, but he surprised me by not wearing any.

"Hooooooon…" Crap. The convincing voice never meant anything good for me. "You know I love you, and that I always think you're beautiful, but would you mind changing before we leave?"

Glancing in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors, I didn't see anything hideously wrong. The jeans were pre-Magnus, but they barely had any holes. The shirt Magnus had given me, so he couldn't have a problem with it. "I guess. What's wrong with what I've got on?"

He laughed for a moment, then abruptly stopped when he realized I genuinely had no clue. "Alec, the jeans are for someone twice your size, and look at how faded they are. Sweetness, they've got ichor stains on them. You really can't go out in public like that. And the shirt is fine for lounging or dates, but not for Adam Lambert."

Trusting his fashion instinct- because, really, I have no basis to doubt him- I trudged around the minefield of clothes towards him. With a snap of his fingers and a shower of royal blue sparks, he handed me a pile of black. Turning away, I stripped out of the clothes my boyfriend had an issue with.

The t-shirt I was supposed to wear I was okay with. Emblazoned with Adam's head, it seemed too small on me. The jeans I had a problem with. I have nothing against skinny jeans- they're a bit uncomfortable if Magnus makes me go "party tight," but I have no major qualms with them. These were well past the snug fit I would wear to one of his parties. They were impossible to get on; I literally couldn't pull them up over my calves. "Mags, we've got issues. The stuff is too small."

"It's called fit, darling."

"I get fit. It's just that I can't get the pants on." He full on giggled when I crab-shuffled around to face him.

"Lemme help you!" Another snap, and the jeans had appeared over my thighs, the black denim clinging in a way I'd never thought possible.

"I'm not sure having pants that can only be put on by magic is a good thing. What if I have to use the bathroom?" He giggled in place of an answer.

"You wanna go watch Gilligan's Island?" I groaned at his suggestion after a minute of playing with Chairman Meow. "Weee can just canoooooodle on the cooouuuch…" Maybe the convincing voice does bring good things after all. I conceded.

Suddenly, my mind was far away from the concert venue and solely on the zebra-skin couch in the living room. I spent a good portion of the day lying in the hollow of Magnus's body, not nearly as paralyzed by the shrink-wrap pants as I'd thought I'd be.

Once the light had shifted and we'd switched to watching Project Runway to feed Magnus's addiction, Magnus asked "Do you realize that we've killed most of the day? It's already almost two o'cock."

"O'clock." I corrected.

"I meant what I said."

A/N: That was an epic fail in trying to be cute. IF this doesn't make sense, I'm writing this at 1:05 in the morning and I can't find it in myself to look back over this. I still feel guilty about the super short chapter, so I've been trying to write fast. If I have to edit this myself, it'll be revised seven different times and won't get posted until December. So here ya go. You just get the rough edit.

Tell me in the reviews if you like it better with or without Clary's commentary.

* I LOVE Christian Siriano with all my soul- at least the part that isn't busy loving Malec and Adam Lambert! Alec's hair is like:

http:/ ./2007/11/pr4_bio_christian_siriano . jpg

** Josh fills up the part of my soul not occupied by the three fabulous guys above. Petrilude has the best makeup tutorials on the internet! Here's the look: . com/?p=87 (just take out the spaces!)