Bonjour, darlings! I've been festival-ing it for the past few days, so no writing, but I won't apologise because it was brilliant :P

By the way, the football mentioned is European football. Soccer. Wow, I don't think I've ever typed that word before. My fingers feel weird now!

I own neither the Mortal Instruments or Michael Tolliver from Tales of the City (by Armistead Maupin)- if you haven't read that, YOU HAVE NOT LIVED.

Alec peered through the window at Magnus, who swanned up to the Institute as though he was on a catwalk rather than being questioned as a suspect in a murder investigation. He was innocent, of course, but surely it couldn't hurt to look as though he was taking it a little seriously?

Despite the situation, Alec couldn't help but smile a little. Magnus was wearing a black-and-white vertically striped suit, white knee-high platform boots and a metallic gold poncho. To a Clave investigation.

Cool air ruffled his hair as he dashed down the stairs to meet Magnus at the door- the Clave members weren't due for another half an hour, and Alec wanted them to have some time together beforehand, plus he really wanted someone other than Isabelle to talk to about Jace. Izzy would only worry.

Just the thought of Magnus' smirk caused Alec to hurry, flinging open the door and tumbling into his boyfriend as a tangle of limbs.

"I missed you!" he breathed, as Magnus scooped him up and twirled them around.

"I missed you too, baby."

"I know, but I properly missed you, as soon as I woke up it felt strange without you there." The warlock's heart melted and dribbled through his ribcage at Alec's adorableness, as he stood there in his arms, with wide navy blue eyes and biting his lip with the air of someone making a confession. "It was too cold and I couldn't help thinking how your toes get freezing and I had this sexy dream and I couldn't tell you and-"

Magnus brushed the tip of Alec's pale nose with his own.

"Oh, did you now?"

"Yes." Alec's lips quirked up at one corner. "About a whole football team."

"I see, and what exactly were they doing?"

"I'm not going to tell you." Magnus pouted. "But they all had eyes exactly like yours." Magnus peppered his face with a flurry of brief, chaste kisses; making Alec wriggle and smile cutely. He thought he had changed the subject pretty well: to be quite honest, he didn't want to admit to anyone how much he missed his Shadowhunter in the mornings- least of all himself.

"Well, that certainly sounds enjoyable, though I didn't know you were into football."

"Oh, I'm not." He smirked. "Imagine me sitting through a whole game? I don't have the patience for that- you can't turn the page when it gets insufferable, and the characters aren't left to your imagination. You see them spitting and stuff. Ew."

"Did you just say 'ew'?"

"It's gross! You never saw Michael Tolliver spit on a field."

Without warning, Magnus threw Alec over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, sauntering into the Institute with a laugh, the echoes of which skittered down the street like a litter of kittens.

Alec soon found himself plonked onto the long, polished table where Magnus' interview would take place, slightly breathless and hoping no Clave members had snuck in and witnessed their entrance.

"Allie pie?" Alec stared, as though Magnus were insane.

"What?" Magnus shrugged.

"Just trying it out. You don't like it?"

"No."

"That's a shame, I thought it was rather good. But anyway, before you so rudely interrupted my magnificent self, I was talking and I'd appreciate exercising my right to freedom of spee-" Alec, still perched on the table, shoved his feet into Magnus' lap with a rare, carefree laugh.

"Okay, okay, I'm very rude, what were you saying?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday." The Shadowhunter tried to think back without looking like a gormless idiot. Yesterday… "When you said 'Don't talk to my boyfriend like that' to Jocelyn."

Alec was surprised Magnus even remembered that, it had just slipped out before his brain could even process the words.

"I-oh, well, I-"

"It was really nice. Like something a proper boyfriend would say."

"I'm not a proper boyfriend?"

Magnus rested his chin on Alec's knees, fingers stroking the back of his slender ankles just beneath the sock.

"Of course you are, but we have so many complications, baby, it was nice because it was so…normal. It just showed how comfortable you've gotten. A few months ago you wouldn't even admit that I was your boyfriend."

The doorbell rang before Alec could respond, followed by the muffled clumps of Izzy's footsteps as she trudged to answer it. He ignored the sound, untangling his legs from Magnus' arms to drape them over the back of his chair so that they were in a rather compromising position.

"I don't care about complications." He said, then paused delicately. "Well, I do. But the most important thing is-is us, Mags, I guess what I'm trying to say is I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I know, but I don't mean it like I say it before I hang up the phone, or you do something really cute, I mean it like, importantly. Oh by the Angel, I'm so bad at this." He sighed, tugging on a strand of black hair.

"You're not bad, kid." Magnus grinned. "Not bad at all." He ran his fingers lightly up the lean curve of Alec's calves; either side of his shoulders, pinning him to the chair. Which, of course, would be the moment that Izzy walked in, closely followed by Jace, Inquisitor Whitelaw, and two other Clave members Alec recognized as Adrienne Hightower and Richard Branwell.

(Aah! A moth just dive-bombed me! It was flapping around my ceiling and then it suddenly swooped down and crashed into me, like the violent winged fiend it is! I'll get on with it. Xxxx)

Alec scrambled hastily away from Magnus, blushing furiously and straightening his shirt, while the High Warlock continued to lounge and smirk like a cat in the sun.

Branwell looked appauled, Whitelaw awkward, and Hightower amused.

"I- I apologise!" Alec stammered, while Izzy and Jace cackled. "I don't normally- we just-"

"It's quite all right, Alexander," Adrienne smiled, her greyish-blonde hair shiny and flat against her head. "We were young once, too."

The questioning went well despite the somewhat awkward start: Magnus quite rightly pointed out that no antique hare traps, rusty scissors or indeed pliers had been used- as suggested in his note- and the others confirmed his alibi, he'd been the Institute with them at the time of Raphael's death.

(The moth's in my hair…aah…what do I do- okay it's gone.)

"So why exactly did you send him this note?" Whitelaw asked curiously, greyish eyes oblivious to Alec's sudden discomfort at the question.

"Inquisitor," he cut in "It's nothing important, really. Nothing to do with the investigation."

"It could be, young man." Whitelaw replied "We have to look at all possible motives." Alec dropped his head in his hands as Magnus said, as casually as he could manage,

"Santiago, ah, slept with Alec." Magnus squeezed Alec's knee under the table, hoping he wouldn't notice the horrified stare of Richard Branwell. "We had a rather unpleasant disagreement a while ago, and he considered it revenge- not Alexander's fault, you understand, Santiago took advantage of him in a rather vulnerable situation."

He also explained to them how he suspected Camille and the Seelie Queen were the real murderers, but as Whitelaw told it, without any real evidence there was very little the Clave could do.

By this point, Magnus had grown so bored with the endless formality, he had started to drift off into his thoughts. The table was extremely smooth, slippery even- he suspected Maryse may be even more particular about it than she was with her rugs- excellent for sliding down…or other activites. Smiling inwardly, Magnus conjured up a little note to appear in Alec's hand.

Darling,
As fascinating as this is, all I can seem to think about is how many ways I could fuck you across this table.

Alec let out a startled noise as he read, which he hastily masked as a cough, and dug a discreet elbow into the warlock's side. But he was still bored.

Oh Alexander, don't be like that. You're thinking it too…or, you are now.

Damn, now Alec couldn't help it. He desperately tried to focus on what Whitelaw was saying.

It's so slippery, one of us would have to hold the other down, most likely.

He tried to slap away the slender brown hand that was working its way up his thigh.

When the Clave squad have gone of course. Otherwise it could get a little awkward.

Alec despised how Magnus could keep such a straight, ordinary face while sending those sorts of messages, the ones he was slipping into his pocket to store in his secret memory box.

To start, I'll sit you up there with me still on the chair, like before. Slowly undo those jeans of yours, and give you a quick blowjob, just as an appetiser.

He delivered a swift under-the-table kick to Magnus' shin, the kind he, Izzy and Jace had spent years perfecting under the disapproving noses and sharp blue eyes of Robert and Maryse Lightwood. Still no reaction.

Really darling, violence? Anyone would think you didn't want it. And that hurt, by the way! If there's a shoe-print on my suit I'll microwave you.

"So, any questions?" Whitelaw's voice brought Magnus back to reality with a jolt. They were all looking at him expectantly.

"Yes I do have one question, actually, and it's for Alec."

By the Angel.

"Yesterday, you whipped a seraph blade out from under the couch- do you hide them around my apartment?" The Clave members looked baffled but hey, they'd caught him off guard, under pressure. He'd had to come up with something.

"Yes. Not just seraphs though, other weapons…there's a neat guisarme in the cupboard under your sink." Alec grinned despite himself.

"Why? And why haven't I noticed this?"

"Well, it's always good to be prepared, and you haven't noticed because you never clean- when was the last time you even opened that cupboard?" Magnus smoothed his hair in what was meant to be a dignified manner.

"I think…a few months ago, when David Bowie sent me that charming postcard, you remember? I keep all my letters and things in a big box in that cupboard."

"Well, if that's all, we'll be off. I'll be in contact if something else comes up." Whitelaw interrupted, seemingly not fazed that once again he hadn't been offered a cup of tea.

Magnus, Tessa thought wearily, where in God's name are you?

His apartment was deserted again. But a quick tracking spell told her he was in Manhattan…the Institute, to be specific. Tessa was bewildered- last time they'd seen each other, he'd told her he was done with Shadowhunters. Although she had heard rumours he'd struck up a serious attachment to one, a Lightwood apparently.

That couldn't be correct.

Tessa had never been one to believe the stuff of gossip, however, and surely Magnus would never get involved with a Lightwood…

Oh gracious, she thought, not bothering to appreciate how pretty the oil-tainted puddle at her feet was, a thin, gloopy rainbow adorning the pavement, I am so tired of this world.

There. Finally. Feel free to yell at me for any mistakes. (Textually, of course.)

Love China. XxXx