Something Unexpected

Magnus sat staring at the TV. He hasn't turned it on, so it was just a black screen. He needed something to look at; his eyes were sore from looking at horrendous clients for half the day. Honestly, they had to get the high warlock of Brooklyn to examine their grotesque injuries? He had more important things he could be doing…like watching a blank TV screen…

Damn.

He finally manages to get himself up. He doesn't have any more clients, thank goodness, so his day is free. And what does he usually do in his spare time?

Alec.

His bare feet lightly brushed the floor as he picked his way through the magazines and other messes on the floor, until he reached the phone. Punching in the Institute's number, he held it patiently to his ear while he waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" An exasperated voice picked up the phone. It wasn't Alec.

"Isabelle, dear," He said into the receiver, "It's Magnus."

"Oh, hey, Magnus," Isabelle puffed form the other end, "Can you hold on a second?" He rolled his eyes, hearing the shouts in the background.

"Mmm hm." Was all he replied.

Magnus settled back down onto his couch, examining his sparkly nails. He pressed the phone in between his shoulder and his chin. The voices from the background weren't hard to catch.

"Isabelle who is it?" Someone asked. It sounded like Jace.

"It's Magnus, idiot. I think he wants to speak to Alec."

"Oh, stop blushing, Alec." Jace. Of course.

"I am not blushing!" Magnus smiled at the sound of Alec's voice.

"Yes you are." A voice said very matter-o-factly, "I can see it." Was that Clary? What was she doing there?

"You're just upset because it didn't work." What didn't work?

Magnus cleared his throat.

"Isabelle. Please, honey, I can hear you all arguing." There was shouting in the background.

"Oh. Really?" Isabelle asked, "Ooops."

"And as much as I would love to know what exactly what you are up to, and believe me the urge is overwhelming," He didn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. "But I would absolutely love to speak to Alec."

"Oh Alec?" Isabelle replied, "He's is…kind of busy." The shouting in the background grew louder.

Busy, eh?

"What has the blonde wonder done this time?"

"It wasn't actually Jace, believe it or not."

"Not Jace?" He was generally surprised. "Then who?" There was a pause and then Isabelle's voice returned.

"I have been told that their identity is to be kept secret."

"Clary?" Magnus asked, "Really?"

"Uh, no-o." Isabelle said in such a voice that he was sure she was lying, "It's not Clary at all."

"I don't want to know, Isabelle, I really don't. So can you please put my beloved Alexander on the phone?"

"Uh, I guess."

There was a faint rustling and Alec was put onto the phone.

"Alec, dear, how nice to hear your-"

"Hey Magnus, I'm sorry but I can't really talk right now." Alec cut him off! The nerve of the boy.

"Not even to your boyfriend?" Magnus pouted. Too bad Alec wasn't here to take the full effect of Magnus' puppy dog pout. The shadow hunter wouldn't have been able to resist.

"Sorry, but I'm really busy. We've kind of, um, had a problem."

"A problem?" Magnus raised his eyebrows, "What sort of problem?"

"A problematic one?"

"Nice try, sweetie, but I'm an 800 year old Warlock, that's not going to work."

"800?" Alec's voice burst through the phone, "You told me you were 300!"

"Well obviously, I am not."

"Yeah, I can hear that for myself thanks."

"See?" Magnus said abruptly, "Isn't this nice?"

"What?"

"Talking." Magnus explained.

"We're not talking," Alec said, "We're fighting."

"Talking is a form of fighting." The Warlock pointed out.

"No it's not. Not really."

"Are you moving your mouth?" He asked.

"Yes." Alec replied.

"Then you're talking."

"Magnus," Alec said, exasperated, "I really have to go."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I'm pouting now, just to let you know." He was indeed pouting, once again cursing himself that Alec wasn't here.

"I love you, Magnus." Alec said.

"I love you too, baby."

"Bye."

"Bye."

The phone line was filled with beeping. His boyfriend was gone; off to sort out his 'problematic problem.'

He supposed that what you got for dating a shadow hunter, though. Constant worry gnawing at his gut, a plethora of doubts about what he was doing and whether he would come back alive…

That's it. He had to stop thinking about that. Live in the present, Magnus. The past has happened and the future is to come, but the present is now, enjoy it.

But how was he supposed to enjoy it when the one person he wanted to enjoy it with wasn't here?

He could always…

Uh…um….

Jesus, how did he spend his days when Alec wasn't there? And what will he do when he's gone? Nothing, apparently, if now was anything meant to judge by. But he couldn't just sit around pining all day. Since when did the magnificent Magnus Bane pine?

Since he met Alexander Lightwood. Since he had found something worth pining for.

But, still, pining wasn't very fun. Neither was swimming but naked in an ice cold lake, but no-one was bringing that up.

Just as Magnus was about to pull out a tooth in order to attain some sense of excitement, there was a knock on the door.

He didn't care who it was; he could kiss whoever was on the other side of that door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Magnus shot out of his couch with glee. The only thing that could spoil his mood would be if it was another annoying client.

Or if it was Jace.

The knocker was a persistent one, and the noise kept going until he had to yell out to tell them he'd heard. His heart sunk because he just knew it was a client. No-one else knocks like that unless they're one of four people:

Annoying, snobby client.

Annoying, snobby Jace in a rage.

Annoying, snobby Will on a good day.

The Police.

He knew that it couldn't be the last two; Will was, well, dead, and the police weren't likely to bother him.

So now that his mood had dampened somewhat, he reluctantly reached the door to his apartment. It was only now that realised that he had an intercom, and that he could have used said intercom to buzz the mysterious person in. Scowling, he shoved Chairmen Meow out of the way and stepped toward the door.

"Who is this? I'm busy." Which was a complete and utter lie.

"Um is this the High Warlock of Brooklyn?" The voice was familiar, crisp, English and arrogant.

"I believe so. Who is requesting my presence?"

"Uh, Will. William Herondale."