#but in the classic? he went to the land of the waves mission without reporting the the classification was wrong

[team7-headquarter]

HE WAS SO MAD

[carmenlire]

Off the Record Ch. III

read chapter one

read on ao3

Magnus walks into the office at 7am sharp. He’s carrying a latte from the coffee shop around the corner and as he takes a sip, he grimaces a little at the bitter taste.

He’s running on three hours of sleep, having stayed up far too late working on the finishing touches of Alec’s suit. It’s been a while since Magnus has worked around the clock for a piece and it’s strangely invigorating even if he does want to collapse on his couch and sleep the morning away.

Nodding to a few of his employees, Magnus manages to make it up to his office without talking to anyone. Really, only a few departments were up and running this early. Magnus might demand a lot from his staff but he wasn’t unreasonable.

He kept unreasonable expectations to himself.

Clary’s not due for a couple of hours so Magnus has the floor to himself. Walking into his office, Magnus sees the two mannequins displaying Alec’s sample jackets near his desk. In the bright morning light, Magnus takes another drink from his cup as he studies them.

“Still got it,” he murmurs to himself, eyes raking over the fabric looking for anything out of place, pushing a loose pin back into position.

He has no idea what Alec will think of the suits. Really, while Magnus might have the tiniest crush on the reporter, the man’s an enigma. In his early thirties, Alec Lightwood was by all rights a man on a mission.

Magnus could relate even if he wondered just how much the old adage rang true.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Alec seemed constantly in motion, flying off to far flung countries and racking up awards and accolades. It was undeniably attractive, all that accomplishment and drive. Magnus has always loved someone who knows what they want and Alec certainly fit the bill there.

With a sigh, Magnus turns and makes his way to his desk, sitting down and setting his cup to one side while he boots up his computer. While Alec was sure to be the most exciting part of his day, Magnus’s world couldn’t stop for a consultation.

He spends the next few hours losing himself in work. He skims the day’s headlines and gets caught up on his email-- at least as much as he ever is.

It feels like for every reply he sends, two more messages pop up in his inbox in a never ending deluge of correspondence.

He looks over the daily media report his publicist emails at the start of the day, seeing how the Bane brand is faring in the media. Thankfully, all mentions look positive with an editorial piece in Tokyo Vogue speculating about his winter line. Magnus raises a wry brow as some of their theories are remarkably close to his actual portfolio while others are so off the mark as to be laughable.

Taking a short break, Magnus thinks for a quick second before taking his phone out and positioning the mannequins in their most advantageous light. Taking a few pictures, he chooses one before posting it to his Instagram with the caption, Special commission for a client. I wonder who?

Immediately locking his phone again, Magnus looks up at the knock on his door, smiling as Clary pops her head in.

“Good morning, Biscuit,” he greet warmly. “What do you need?”

Walking into his office without a word, Clary only takes enough steps until she can close the door behind her, leaning against it as she looks up at the ceiling without saying a word.

“What is it?” Magnus’s voice is bemused as he takes in his assistant of three years. Clary’s a consummate professional even if she has a propensity to be a little dramatic.

With a sigh, Clary straightens and holds the folder to her middle. If Magnus’s isn’t mistaken, there’s a blush sweeping over her cheeks. He’s just about to ask what on earth just happened when she speaks up.

“You’re ten o’clock is here. Alec and Isabelle Lightwood.”

Looking up at the clock, Magnus is a little taken aback to see just how much time has passed while he was working. It’s ten on the dot and Magnus gives the Lightwood siblings points for punctuality.

“What’s got you so flustered?”

Glaring, Clary manages to hiss, “You didn’t tell me that Isabelle was stunning,” in a stage whisper that has Magnus barking out a laugh as he walks over to the mannequins.

“Now that you mention it,” he muses. “She is your type.”

Fanning herself with the folder, Clary straightens back into her professional stance. “Should I send them in?”

Smoothing down a lapel, Magnus gestures absently with a hand. “Of course, dear.”

He barely hears the door open again, focused on last minute adjustments in a move that is not an effort to quell his nerves.

Magnus Bane doesn’t get nervous and certainly not over a client.

He ignores the voice in his head calling him a big goddamn liar and turns around as he hears steps approaching. Face set into a welcoming smile, every thought in Magnus head disappears for a beat, then two, then three.

Alexander Lightwood can wear a pair of Levis like no one Magnus has ever seen before, making a perfectly plain sweater-- which Magnus has a sneaking suspicion is Valentino-- look couture.

He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning and it gives him a deliciously rugged air. Distantly Magnus wonders if he’s drooling before he shakes his head imperceptibly and pulls his shit together.

If he didn’t know better, Magnus would swear that Alec was similarly affected. Holding out a hand, Magnus says, “Magnus Bane. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

To his utter delight, Alec smiles and it looks easy, open. Magnus might have expected a certain coolness but right now, Alec looks approachable and friendly.

“Alec.”

Magnus thinks he hears Isabelle mutter underneath her breath but he can’t quite place the words. It’s no matter, though, because in the next instant Alec is sliding his hand into Magnus’s.

His palm is warm, inviting, and as the two of them shake hands, it feels like their in their own little world-- at least to Magnus.

Alec, for his part, looks completely unaffected as his smile cools. The handshake is completely perfunctory before Alec drops his hand and turns toward his sister.

“You already know Izzy,” he says with a nod in her direction and Magnus almost gets whiplash from the change in attitude, the earlier friendliness turning almost icy.

Magnus has worked with jerks before and while it chaps his ass, Magnus doesn’t let his expression shift as he turns toward his friend.

“Of course. Isabelle,” he greets, smile deepening, and leans close to kiss her cheek.

She reciprocates, resting her hands on his shoulders, before pulling back. Back to Alec, Magnus only sees Isabelle as she rolls her eyes in her brother’s direction.

“Magnus. Thank you so much for doing this. We know you’re a busy man who did this as a favor to a friend.”

The tilt of Magnus’s mouth turns wry as Isabelle speaks through clenched teeth and as he takes a step back, Magnus’s gaze flicks over to Alec who looks like he’s chewing glass as he says, “Thank you, Magnus. Next week’s dinner is important and my sister’s been raving about you since she told me about our appointment.”

Slightly mollified, Magnus just offers, “Good to know my reputation precedes me,” and turns with a extravagant hand towards the two mannequins.

“Why don’t we get down to business,” he says briskly and starts with the classic suit jacket. “I’ve created two sample suits. As you can see, I went with classic for this first piece. All black wool with silk lapels and finishing details.”

Moving toward a hidden closet, Magnus opens the door and takes out the hanger with the rest of the ensemble. Handing them over to Alec, who takes them without hesitation, Magnus continues, “Go ahead and try this on and we’ll see how it fits.”

He winks. “We’ll see just how close to your measurements I could come to with just pictures as reference.”

Clearing his throat, Alec nods and turns towards Magnus’s ensuite bathroom and closes the door without a word.

Left alone with Isabelle, he looks over as she sighs heavily.

“He’s such a dunce,” he hears before she’s smiling apologetically. “Sorry about him. I’d blame it on the jet lag but unfortunately my brother isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type.”

Magnus waves that away. “He’s not the first less-than-pleasant client I’ve had, dear, and he won’t be the last. While I’m disappointed, of course, that he doesn’t have the same sunny disposition as you, I have to admit that I’m looking forward to seeing him fill out my clothes.”

“Alec might prefer to wear simple clothes but he definitely has his own sense of style,” Isabelle agrees. “He does get a little set in his ways, though.”

“Don’t say that Alec didn’t want to come this morning,” Magnus says sardonically.

Grimacing, Izzy just replies, “He wasn’t an ass about it but once my brother finds something-- someone-- he likes, it takes some persuading to steer him in a different direction. He has the disappointing and extremely frustrating habit of landing himself in ruts.”

Magnus can’t help himself from coming to his defense, suggesting, “He is a busy man. I can’t imagine that he has all the time in the world to explore when he’s always off on assignment.”

Isabelle huffs but before she can say anything, the bathroom door is open.

Goddamn.

Magnus keeps his neutral expression, though it takes more effort than he’d like to admit. He’d gotten damned close to Alec’s measurements and as he runs a critical eye over the suit, cataloging the dozen places that need altering, Magnus gives himself a little pat on the back for another job well done.

Gesturing sharply for Alec to approach the tri-fold mirror in the corner of his office, Magnus swings by his desk to pick up his pin cushion and tape measure before joining Isabelle and her brother.

If his eyes happen to drop to a truly magnificent ass, Magnus assures himself that no one’s the wiser.

Coming around to stand in front of Alec, Magnus smooths the shoulders of the suit.

“This needs let out three quarters of an inch,” Magnus mutters under his breath, noting the tightness as the fabric stretches over an impressive set of shoulders.

Alec stands still as Magnus repins the area. Magnus doesn’t pay him much mind as he circles around, making other minute alterations. Tugging down the back of the jacket, Magnus admires the flare that accentuates slim hips before coming back around and shifting to the shirt.

Looking up, Magnus meets Alec’s eyes, his own dancing just a little as he reaches toward the collar.

“Now, I don’t know the dress code for this event but I’ve tailored the shirt and jacket so that it’s suitable for both a bow tie or open throat.” So saying, Magnus unbuttons the top two buttons, fingers just gliding over the warm skin of Alec’s neck.

While his expression doesn’t change, only half of Magnus’s mind is on which style fits best, waiting for Alec to give him some feedback.

Most of his thoughts are caught on the ripple of Alec’s throat as he swallows hard, mouth opening on an almost silent gasp that only the two of them hear. Their eyes collide and Magnus wishes desperately that this was a sign. It’s a moment suspended in time-- Magnus’s fingers still along the collar of the shirt, spreading it wider to show a larger swathe of tan skin.

No one says anything and Magnus can’t even begin to string a sentence together as he wonders what the hell the man in front of him is doing to his usually iron-clad professionalism. Before he can do anything though, Alec’s clearing his throat. It jars them from the spell that seems to have been cast over their tableau and while Magnus doesn’t startle, he does blink, the breath shuddering out of him as Alec’s tongue darts out to drag over a full bottom lip.

“Actually,” Alec says slowly, looking at Magnus as though for permission, “The gala is black tie only. No open throats allowed.”

“Of course,” Magnus replies mechanically. On autopilot he buttons the shirt back up and takes a step back, regaining some equilibrium with the move.

Turning his back for a brief moment, Magnus walks over to his desk, grabbing the slim box from the corner of his desk. He lifts the top as he returns to Alec, holding it out for both he and Isabelle to look over.

“I thought you might say that,” Magnus says with a small smile, nodding towards the black silk bow tie resting in white satin. “I had the design team bring this up just in case you opted for the more formal choice.”

Isabelle reaches for the piece of fabric, but Alec beats her to it, lightly slapping her hand away. “I can tie my own bow tie,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes as only a big brother can before taking a step or two closer to the mirror for a better look.

Magnus watches the display with a smile. His eyes catch on the graceful, if utilitarian, movements of Alec’s hands as he expertly ties a perfect bow. Leaning closer to the mirror, Alec’s thumb runs under the wing tip collar of the oxford shirt, smoothing the black silk, and Magnus’s mouth goes dry.

Get a grip, he tells himself and brightens when Alec’s eyes catch his in the mirror, as if asking for a second opinion.

Gesturing for Alec to step back, Magnus runs a critical eye of the outfit. He reaches for Alec’s arms, pulling them straight in front of him, gauging the length.

“It’s a little tight,” Alec admits, subtly flexing his arms.

Magnus’s reply is absent as he says, “The sleeves are too short. I’ll send down to the store for the next size and tailor it to the measurements I’ll take in a few minutes.” Shooting the cuffs, Magnus looks up with a frown. “Do you have cuff links or do you need a pair? I have a few on hand to get the general effect but I can refer you to a few jewelers if that’s more your speed.”

“I have cuff links at home. I didn’t think to bring them,” Alec admits sheepishly.

Magnus waves that away.

“I should have told Isabelle. No matter, like I said, I have some that will give us the effect we need and see what adjustments might need to be made.”

Grabbing the a notebook on a side table, Magnus reaches for the pencil tucked behind his ear, pulling his tape measure from around his neck. He spends the next several minutes readjusting pins and getting real measurements, wanting to make sure that this Bane Original especially fit like a dream.

Taking a step back, Magnus studies the new silhouette before his gaze snags on the pants. Tossing his notebook to the side, Magnus kneels and reaches for the hem of Alec’s pants, tugging them down over sock-clad feet.

He smiles, just a little, at the mini ducklings that make an otherwise plain black sock fun.

“What do you think of the silk stripe down the side? Too much?” Magnus glares at the pant leg, debating on the length when he looks up to see Alec already studying him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Alec says and Magnus leaves it at that. He can’t help clients who won’t say what’s on their mind.

Deciding the length works-- surprising since Alexander’s exceptionally tall-- Magnus stands back up, dusting his hands off in the process.

“Well, how does it look,” Magnus asks, stepping back and gesturing for Alec to spin.

Alec does so, looking down at himself in the suit. “I like it,” he says, sounding surprised. Shrugging a little, he looks up at Magnus as he completes his revolution. “I like it a lot.”

Magnus smiles, leaning down to grab his sketchbook from where it’d landed on the floor. “That’s what I like to hear,” he says lightly. He tilts his head toward the second mannequin. “Do you want to try on the second suit? I know it’s flashier, a little bolder, but I looked through press pictures from past formal events and sometimes you like something with a little edge.”

Alec bites his lip, thinking, as he glances over to the other side of the room. He smiles faintly. “Purple, though,” he asks, eyes laughing as he looks more than a little taken aback.

Magnus’s reply is prim as he merely offers, “Aubergine, Alexander. It’s all about the shade.”

“Oh, of course,” Alec agrees easily, laughing. “That makes all the difference.”

“Magenta is different from violet is different from lavender.”

Nodding, Alec grins and Magnus notes the faint laugh lines just starting to form at the corner of his eyes. “You’re right," he says gravely. “My mistake.”

“As long as you’re aware,” Magnus murmurs, taking a step back.

“Can I offer either of you something to drink? Eat?” He winces. “I’ve been a terrible host and businessman. Forgive me.”

Alec waves that away almost before he’s done talking. “I’m good. Iz?”

Smiling, Isabelle asks for water which Magnus goes to the intercom to order from Clary. She knocks on the door to the office before poking her head in. Walking into the office, Clary holds the bottle of water out but Magnus nods toward Isabelle and Clary falters imperceptibly before she switches directions.

Magnus watches as Clary hands the bottle to Isabelle, who takes it with a wide smile, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she says something to low for him to hear. Clary laughs though, breathless, and Magnus finds himself intrigued.

Looking up, he catches Alec’s eye and the two of them exchange looks as Isabelle and Clary talk for another minute before Clary takes a step back, tripping over air with a small yelp before turning on her heel and leaving the room posthaste.

The room’s silent for a minute before Alec clears his throat. Magnus sees Isabelle close her eyes as though in pain before pasting a bright smile on her face and turning towards her brother.

She tries to ignore his look, instead moving to brush an invisible piece of lint from the front of his jacket. Alec doesn’t say anything, and Magnus doesn’t either before Isabelle sighs exasperatedly and snaps, “What?”

Theatrically raising his brows, Alec just pleasantly returns, “Why don’t you tell us?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she just says, “So, she’s cute. What about it?”

Grinning, Alec pokes her shoulder. “You have a type,” he says knowingly. “Why don’t you just ask her out and save everyone involved-- including the long-suffering witnesses-- the pain of drawing it out.”

“We’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to focus on you. And what a sight to focus on,” Izzy exclaims. “You look great, Alec.”

She throws a sharp look at Magnus that he has no hope of deciphering before she says, “Lydia won’t know what hit her.”

At that, it’s Alec’s turn to look uncomfortable.

Isabelle immediately jumps on the shift in expression, demanding, “What happened?”

Clearing his throat, Alec spares a fleeting glance at Magnus before admitting, “Lydia and I are no longer a thing.”

“You’re no longer a thing,” Isabelle repeats incredulously. “What?”

Shrugging, Alec just says, “We both decided that things had run their course and we should go our separate ways. We’re still friends just-- just nothing else.”

Magnus absorbs the information. The truth is, people rarely paid attention to their tailor and Magnus has been a fly on the wall of conversations some people would kill to know. He can’t quite believe Alec’s airing his business so nonchalantly in front of him but Magnus fulfills his role, remaining obscure.

That’s, at least, until Alec turns directly towards him and offers, “It’s probably hitting the news soon, so I didn’t see an issue letting someone know before it’s official. I hope you don’t mind.”

Alec rubs the back of his neck, “I know that we’ve only known each other an hour,” he says, tone self-deprecating, “But I trust you. I don’t know why but I do.”

“Client confidentiality is a must in my business, I assure you.” Magnus smiles, just a little, adding, “I’d hope my friendship with Isabelle would vouch for me but just so you know, I’m not in the business of spreading gossip.” He arches a brow. “I have better things to do with my time. I am a busy man after all,” he sniffs.

Alec’s expression warms at the reassurance and he snorts a laugh. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad."

Taking a few steps over to Magnus, Alec holds out his hand. “Thank you. I know I was a little short with you when we first arrived and I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but helpful and I love this suit.”

Magnus slides his hand into Alec’s grip, their handshake professional even if Alec’s expression is much more open this second time around.

“You’re welcome, Alexander. I’m glad that Isabelle thought to mention my name. It’s been awhile since I’ve done such a commission and I have to admit that I’d forgotten how fun it can be, filling a rush order for a particularly influential client.”

“I’m influential, huh?” Alec’s voice is soft, searching, and Magnus can’t stop himself from leaning infinitesimally closer.

“Well, you’re only one of the most well-known journalists in The States, if not the world,” Magnus replies demurely. “I can’t wait to see how you photograph in my clothes.”

Close, Magnus can see the way Alec’s eyes widen and the way the faintest color sweeps across his cheeks before he pulls-- finally-- his hand from Magnus’s.

It’s over quicker than Magnus can blink and he can’t help but wonder if he didn’t just imagine the way Alec swept a lingering thumb across his palm.

Stepping back, Alec nods towards Izzy. “I hope I can do them justice,” he says before continuing, “I promised Iz that we’d get lunch soon and we’ve taken up enough of your time. While I love the craftsmanship of the second suit-- and you might have even gotten me into it if it was for a different occasion-- I think I’ll go ahead and order this black one.”

“Smart choice,” Magnus manages, still preoccupied before he shakes his head and snaps back to attention. He smiles brightly at Alec.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Alexander. I have to admit that I might watch your news segment regularly. It’s nice to meet the man behind the camera.”

“Yeah,” Alec asks, sounding pleased at the news. “I hope I don’t bore you.”

“Never,” Magnus vows. “Not even when I have no idea what treaty or legalese you’re talking about.”

Clearing his throat, Magnus steers the conversation away from his embarrassing habit. He just met the man-- Magnus doesn’t need to spill all of his secrets this morning.

He walks until he’s standing behind Alec and helps him shrug out of the jacket. He gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to change back into your street clothes while I hang this up.”

Alec follows his direction and disappears into the bathroom. Magnus doesn’t know quite when Isabelle moved but he’s suddenly being nudged in the ribs.

Wincing, Magnus jerks out of Isabelle’s particularly pointed reach.

“What?”

Pointing a finger in his direction, Isabelle’s tone is playfully accusatory as she replies, “Don’t play dumb with me, Bane. You were totally checking out my brother.”

Glaring, askance at both Isabelle’s forwardness and his own lack of discretion, Magnus merely scoffs and says, “He’s Alec Lightwood. Of course I was checking him out. I’d have to be dead not to take that man in.”

Izzy chastises him. “You weren’t being subtle,” she says dryly.

Rolling his eyes, Magnus’s voice is equal parts annoyed and amused as he says, “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you’re very straight brother didn’t notice.”

Isabelle doesn’t say anything in response and when he looks over from where he was hanging the jacket back on the empty mannequin, he sees his friend looking like she’s chewing particularly cutting glass.

“What,” he wonders. “I might flirt a little but I’m very much aware that he’s not interested, Isabelle. I would never make a client uncomfortable, though I find it hard to believe that Alec is a homophobic bigot, considering the way he teased you earlier about my very lovely assistant.”

Isabelle laughs. Loud, echoing laughs that, quite frankly, startle Magnus.

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and waits for his possibly deranged friend to calm down. Isabelle quiets down to soft snickers after a few minutes, wiping under her eyes to clean up her running eyeliner.

“Alec is as from a homophobic asshole as you can get,” Izzy assures him. “I promise you didn’t make him uncomfortable. He’d have no problem telling you to get lost if you had.”

She shrugs. “Who’s to say. Alec probably didn’t notice you flirting but if he had then he must not have minded very much.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to make of that so he opts to ignore it, though he can’t deny that it lingers in his mind, thoughts twisting over those innocuous words.

He shakes his head, impatient at himself, as the bathroom door opens and Alec comes back out, dressed in the warm brown sweater and worn jeans.

Handing the suit to Magnus, Alec smiles easily. “Thanks again, Magnus. I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“You’re more than welcome, darling. When do you need this suit again? I need a firm time.”

Squinting a little, Alec throws out, “How about Tuesday afternoon? Four? The gala’s at eight but I won’t get ready until the late afternoon. Does that work?”

“Perfect,” Magnus beams. “With a rush order, every extra hours counts. I’ll have this delivered to your home or office Tuesday afternoon.”

Tapping his pencil against his chin, Magnus thinks for a second, making sure that he has everything he needs.

“Oh! What color accent do you want for the pocket square?”

It’s a small thing but definitely a touch that most clients like to personalize. Magnus does his best to tailor every order to the client’s specifications and so he waits for Alec to think through options, hoping that it won’t be a fashion faux pas.

He once had a special commission for an orange paisley suit with a blue plaid pocket square and string tie. The client was over the moon with the finished product, even if Magnus had hated every stitch.

“Let’s go with a blue. I trust you can pick the best shade that will be a pop of color but won’t be overpowering or too dark?”

“I can do that,” Magnus agrees easily, happy with Alec’s choice. “Classic, masculine-- very you, darling.”

Magnus can’t resist and he’s treated to a soft smile as Alec ducks down, hiding his face from view.

Isabelle clears her throat. “Well, we’d best be getting to lunch. I’m starving and Alec’s paying so no need to dawdle. Right Alec,” she asks, studying her brother like a bug under her microscope.

“Yeah,” Alec says, voice rough.

“Have a good day you two and thanks for stopping by, Isabelle. It was nice seeing you.”

“We should get lunch soon.”

Magnus winks. “Stop by Clary’s desk on your way out and she can set something up for us.”

Izzy grins, nodding, before turning towards the door and leaving without a backwards glance, not waiting for Alec to follow.

Still, Alec doesn’t leave right away and Magnus is loathe to end their meeting.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Alexander.”

“That’d be nice, though I am out of the country a lot for work.”

“A journalist’s work is never done,” Magnus teases.

“It does seem like it sometimes.”

Taking a step closer, Magnus slowly says, “Well, maybe when you’re in town next you can call me and we’ll see if we can make our schedules work.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a business card and holding it out for Alec to take.

Alec reaches out slowly, as if afraid it’s a trap, before grabbing the card. His fingers brush over Magnus’s and they both still at the contact.

“Thanks,” Alec breathes before breaking the connection and taking the card, sliding it into his back pocket.

“Don’t mention it,” Magnus manages and smiles.

Taking a step, Alec starts to turn toward the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Magnus.”

Nodding, Magnus doesn’t say anything, just watches as Alec leaves, carefully closing his office door with a quiet snick.

The minute the door closes, Magnus is blowing out a breath and falling back onto his couch with a muttered curse.

“Christ,” he whispers under his breath, working on his breathing.

While things had gotten off to a rocky start with Alec, there was just something about him that Magnus couldn’t put his finger on that made him want to come closer and learn more about the damnably closed-lip man.

Magnus couldn’t get a read on him. Cool one minute, bright enough to melt the polar caps the next. There’s something there that makes Magnus want to burrow closer and find out just what Alec’s hiding under the small smiles and brusque facade.

It’s interesting reconciling the man who reports the news in dangerous, tense locales with the approachable, long-suffering big brother he’d met today. Two sides of the same coin and Magnus can’t help but wonder what other sides there are to one Alec Lightwood.

Alas, he probably won’t see the man again, Magnus thinks glumly.

He’d put the ball in Alec’s court and while Alec had been everything polite about the invitation, Magnus doesn’t want to think that there’s anything more there but an exceptionally talented designer fulfilling a lucrative commission.

More’s the pity, he thinks and sighs again.

Lack of sleep starts to catch up to Magnus and with a quick look at the clock that hangs over his desk, Magnus decides that he can take a few hour nap before his early afternoon appointment with the textiles manager in Milan.

He’s asleep almost before he makes the choice, his last thought lingering on Alec and just how well he filled out a pair of jeans.

[mnetruinedmylife]

Untitled

A very old SNSD 1600 pirate AU that I never really got around to posting. Guess this really is a home for all the scraps. Pardon my butchered Victorian English.

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The Mediterranean Sea was the centre of prosperity for the surrounding countries. Vessels upon vessels travelled the trade routes, carrying assorted goods and valuables, from tobacco, to fish, to tea leaves and coffee beans. Of course, for this, the area became the playground for all manner of unsavoury characters, be them thieves, smugglers, or worse pirates.

It just so happens that one pirate in particular, has their filthy paws sunk deep into three of the main trading channels. Cargo ship after cargo ship went missing the moment they sailed far enough for aid not to arrive quickly. The monthly reports were sitting on the desk, detailing the loss of hundreds of pounds in the finest cloth and wine.

Enough was enough, and that was not even counting the newest exploits of the said pirate. Apparently the youngest daughter of the Duke has been kidnapped on the way to her betrothed’s estate. Understandably, the Duke himself stormed into the naval office and demanded a small fleet be immediately sent out to rescue her.

Admiral Seunghyun Choi merely had his head in his hands. He could hardly boot the Duke out of the building. To make matters worse, the Lady had been kidnapped while on her way to his brother’s estate. No doubt, the Duke would somehow find a way to place all the blame on him.

The door to his office creaked open and Seunghyun immediately straightened up and greeted his guest, “Give thou good morning Stephan.”

The captain bowed politely before responding in kind, “Give you good morning Admiral Choi. Excuse my bluntness sir, but why hath you had me summon’d?”

It was quite early in the morning, and the young sailor would think that the Admiral would have better things to do than speak with a lowly Captain. Almost as if on cue, the Duke’s furious ranting could be heard through the walls of the office.

“Thy Duke calls all able-bodied sailors to prepare every sea faring vessel! Doth thou dare’est disobey!?”

 Seunghyun gave Stephan a pointed look and rubbed his forehead tiredly, “Tis barely struck eight an’ my mind be most weary. The Duke has been here since before the sun has risen above the horizon.”

Stephan gave him a sympathetic look, “I have arrived for naught but a quarter hour, yet mine ears begg’d me to run aroint. You sir, are most patient.”

“Best hold thy tongue Captain Hwang, for what I want should have thee cursing mine estate and home,” Seunghyun warned in amusement.

“Please sir, do tell. It be dangerous for curiosity to simmer,” now Stephan was extremely intrigued. What on Earth could the Admiral possibly want that would make him so sure a loyal Captain would curse his family?

“Thou art mine only able-bodied sailor worthy of mention. All thy mundane duties shall be suspended for this assignment of utmost importance. Rescuing the Lady takes precedence above all else,” Seunghyun declared, already trying to figure out who to put in the captain’s usual activities. It would be a shame to send Stephan off of course, but he wasn’t lying when he said that the young sailor was the best that he had available, and they were going to need the best to rescue the Duke’s daughter.

“Me? Admiral sir, you choose me to head such an important voyage?” Stephan asked incredulously.

“Aye, the lookouts spy foreign ships circlin’ the harbour not two moons ago. No doubt the most treacherous Spaniards be the culprit. Dost thou understand now? Thou art the only sailor capable. Make haste to yonder port an’ ready thy ship, Commodore Hwang,” Seunghyun pushed a new badge across the table.

The sailor’s eyebrows rose significantly, not believing that he had just been promoted. Not just promoted, but given a mission to rescue an important figure.

“Still here Commodore? Why? Thee must make haste, tis a clock bound voyage,” Seunghyun made dismissing motions at the shocked sailor’s direction.

That snapped Stephan back to attention, “Aye sir, and many good thanks. Fare you well Admiral Choi.”

“And god give thee a good day Commodore Hwang. Thou shalt need every blessing given.”

_____________)

Tis a clear bright afternoon, an’ the seas be calm and comforting. A galleon ship sailed in no direction apparent, floating carelessly with the wind. No manner of port, vessel, land or critter in sight, but the silence was torn asunder by a band of yowling semi-drunkards.

“Fifteen men on a dead man's chest Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike The bosun brained with a marlinspike And cookey's throat was marked belike It had been gripped by fingers ten; And there they lay, all good dead men Like break o'day in a boozing ken Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

The source of the racket came from non-other than the upper deck of the ship, wherein a motley crew of two dozen gathered, toasting to another victory gone by.

Pirates.

Branded traitors, villains, miscreants, and thieves, those whose meeting with the noose is almost a given when making port. But for now they sang their merry tune, inebriated beyond care. For who amongst the liberated could resist such a wild life of rum, pleasure, an’ open waters?

Captain Jessica Jung, barely twenty one summers old, and with a stature befitting of a large child—yet nevertheless, branded the most feared scourge of the North Sea—stood on the bowsprit of her vessel as the cool wind brushed against her face.

 “Look, all I be sayin’ is that Sooyoung should not be given access to the kitchen,” Onew said, “Supplies be already low!”

“Hear hear!” Yoona raised her bottle in agreement.

“Ye shan’t be talkin’ Yoona, yer stomach be just as vast!” Minho shot back and the rest of the crew laughed uproariously.

“Then we come to agreement—the kitchen wilt be forbidden fer Sooyoung and Yoona!” Key exclaimed, banging his bottle against the cabin wall as a sort of toast.

“Nay!" Yoona disagreed, banging her bottle on the cabin wall in protest, "Sides, I be the Striker-- forbid me from the kitchen, and the lot of yers shan't have a fresh morsel to fill yer belly!"

Jonghyun laugh, "Aye, tis true! We did not think that through. But Sooyoung can still be banned! The Quartermaster has no business in the kitchen!"

“Such preposterous claims! Ye are most cruel. For we few whom revere simple morsels as divine,” Sooyoung continued, waxing poetic about food of all things, “We few, we scurrilous few. We band of the abandoned. We who are free to claim pox upon the chef and all his maleficent—

“—Sooyoung! Ye best stop butcherin’ such classic literatures by smearin’ the verses with food! Else I shall nail yer tongue to the deck!” Yuri threatened good naturedly.

Minho smirked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Methinks the first mate be bluffing, for what shall she do without Sooyoung’s tongue?”

The first mate in question blushed and whacked Minho over the head while Sooyoung just giggled.

“Alas, the quartermaster be a position of respect an' power, second to none but the Captain. But aboard this vessel..." Sooyoung sighed dramatically, "I am bullied by the measly first mate."

Before Yuri could reply, Jonghyun interrupted with a frown, "Where be our heading?"

“Where the sail's master directs it,” Minho said.

“An’ the sail's master directs it where the captain says so,” Key chimed in.

“Speakin’ of the captain’s say so, she hath not made port since we picked up the new cook,” Onew frowned, indicating to Changmin. They were running low on supplies, and had a rather hefty load of loot from the last few raids, but still, Jessica refused to land and trade.

“Trust the captain,” Sooyoung said, clapping Onew on the back, “Has she ever led us astray?”

“Well there was that time in the Caribbean��

Sooyoung slapped her hand over Onew’s mouth. That particular incident involving a chamber maid, the governor’s granddaughter, and a pile of emeralds, was best left unspoken of, especially when the captain was within hearing distance.

It was then that Jonghyun finally noticed what was missing, “Where be the sail's master?”

Every crew member’s eyes shot towards the wheel. Sure enough, it was empty.

Yuri’s eyes narrowed and she stomped up the stairs, and ‘lo and behold! She found the helmsman dozing off on the ground, back resting on the wheel.

“Hyoyeon!” Yuri exclaimed, “The winds be taking us off course! Hyoyeon!”

“Huh? Wha-?” the sailor muttered groggily.

“I warned ye not to over indulge on the rum! We be heading off course,” Yuri continued to shake the half-awake sailor.

Jessica watched her crew laugh and bicker playfully with one another. There was no place she would rather be. Scorned by the general public and by the authorities as she were, but surrounded by loyal and trustworthy friends, and for Jessica, that was worth dying for.

“Ship ahoy!” Tao called from the crow’s-nest.

Jessica brightened, not a sweeter word had been uttered all day, “A war-ship?”

“Aye! Looks to be a vessel of His Majesty’s Royal Navy!” the young lookout announced.

“Doth it be alone?” Jessica asked, it might not have been a helpless merchant ship, but she had been itching for a fight all day.

“Indeed! No other vessel in all direction!”

Jessica whipped out her spyglass and spotted her prey floating in the waves not too far ahead.

“Mister Lee!” the captain grinned predatorily, “Hoist the colours!”

“Aye captain!” Onew saluted, pulling on the ropes.

_____________)

Aboard the magnificent naval warship, The Endeavour, the newly stationed commodore watched as his crew prepared the vessel for departure. It was a beautifully designed ship, made almost entirely of the sycamore wood from London forests and painted in yellow and blue with great billowing white sails.

As the gulls flew ahead, he felt a deep sense of anticipation. Finally, fate had presented an ample opportunity to meet those bastardly Spaniards that had taken so much! No, metaphoric iron walls slammed down as Stephan mentally steeled away from such selfish thoughts. Rescuing the Duke’s daughter came before all other pursuits, no matter how righteous they may be.

At the helm a young sailor looking barely eighteen summers old, stood steering the ship with a countenance of utmost enthusiasm.

Stephan walked up the wooden stairs, hands trailing along the new, smooth hand rails. The Endeavour was a gift from his father for his twenty first birthday. Leonardo Hwang was an Admiral in his days, and a well-respected one at that, and Stephan Hwang intended to live up to that legacy.

“Good morrow Commodore Hwang,” the helmsman greeted.

“How now Master…?” Stephan paused, looking questioningly at the sailor, he did not recognise him.

“Lee sir,” the sailor replied quickly, “Taemin Lee at your service.”

“How now Master Lee?”

“Good now sir. Where be our direction Commodore?” Lee asked.

Now Stephan knew that the Spaniards have a port on a small island not too far from the direction that they had last spotted Spanish vessels, but he also knew that the ships spotted in the past few days were last seen heading in the opposite direction. The Lady comes first!

“The Lady be headed to the estate of the Duke of Norfolk Siwon Choi, an’ was intercepted by unknown vessels. Set course for Canvey Island Master Lee, there be renown pirate ports in those waters.  An’ doth make haste, there be no tellin’ what foul tortures the poor Lady must be endurin’,” Stephan said, finding the young sailor’s attitude to be quite endearing.  

There was always a bright cheerfulness when new sailors come aboard. Not to speak badly of the more experienced sailors of course, but with the experience, came the dark grimness that haunted those who fought at sea. Wide-eyed sailors with bright dispositions were a breath of fresh air. Stephan hoped that it would be a while before Taemin gets those hopeful dreams get crushed by the harsh realities of their occupation.

“Master Lee, for how many years hath thee toiled for His Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

“One summer sir,” Lee answered promptly.

“Fresh from the academy then,” Stephan nodded, his thoughts confirmed, “This be your first voyage away from home waters?”

“Aye sir, an’ what an adventure it shall be,” he grinned with relish.

The commodore gazed up at the sky, “Adventure huh? I pray thee be wrong.”

There was not a single cloud, the sky mirroring the ocean almost perfectly. Bear it good omens. Unless of course, it was a false sign and there were treacherous waters ahead, but Stephan felt uncharacteristically positive. Perhaps it was the promotion…He must really keep his mood in check.

“Has sir encountered a pirate?” Lee asked, curious.

Stephan nodded grimly, “Aye, in all my years never have I crossed paths with any such being more foul, uncouth and scurrilous than a pirate. Thee best pray to find one on thine own terms. To be ambushed by such savage beasts—tis not a right fate deserving for any good man.”

Before Lee could reply, a distressed call from one of the lookouts on the crow’s-nest silenced him, “Ship ahoy!”

“Dost she bear friendly colours?” Stephan asked, a grim expression settling on his face. He hadn’t expected to encounter anyone so soon.

“Nay. A flag of…tis a blue flag beholding a white skeleton…”

“Is the skeleton wielding a black trident?” Stephan asked.

“Aye sir.”

“Doth the ship hoist red sails?”

“Tis true sir!”

All the colour drained from Stephan’s face, and he cursed his luck. Of all the ships to encounter, it had to be that one. “It be The Neptune’s Revenge!”

A gulp of fear washed through the crew. Even amongst the men of the Navy, the exploits and horrifying tales of the dreaded pirate ship sent terror down their spines.

“Well Master Lee, seems like thy request for adventure hath been heard,” Stephan said grimly.

The mettle of the British Navy had all but vanished with one look of the flag, as they fuelled each other’s fear with rumours surrounding the dreaded Captain of the Neptune’s Revenge.

“I hear she sets fire to yer shoes an’ makes ye dance till ye cark it,” cried one sailor as he fumbled with his bayonet.

“I have heard she strings you up by your innards an’ lets the birds make a meal of yer!” another shivered, sending more doubts to the rest of the crew.

“Whispers run round of the captain bartering her soul with the devil himself! They claim she feels no pain. Neither blade nor gun can take her down, nor doth she bleed like one bound to mortal’s realm!”

“I’ll ne’er see mother again! Tis the Locker for us all!”

“Enough!” Stephan snapped, temper pushed to the limit, “Are thee all dogs or men? Cowering in the face of a pirate!” he spat out the word with disgust, “Are we not King’s Men? When those over-glorified thieves board the vessel, what shalt thee do? Will thee cower? Cry? Surrender? Be stabbed in the back like the sickening cur that thee are? Nay! These be pirates! Thee be dead if thee fight, dead or worse if thee do not! Which will it be?” he paused, letting the message sink.

The pirate ship was quickly coming closer, and Stephan cursed the weather. It figures that even the blasted winds weren’t on his side, “So again, are we not King’s Men!?”

“Aye!” the crew yelled as one, spirits renewed, and fire in every sailor’s eyes.

“Now load up thy muskets and man the canons! There be no time to waste!”

______________________________________________________)

The waves were calm, and the winds barely rattled the sails, making it quite easy for the Neptune’s Revenge to cut through the water and make a straight line for the approaching navy vessel.

“Yuri take the helm!” Jessica shouted, climbing up onto the rigging.

Her first mate didn’t look pleased at missing out on the action, but understood that Hyoyeon wasn’t in any shape or form to be steering straight, let alone be prepared to make a quick getaway should things go awry, so she took the wooden wheel in her hand and directed them towards the enemy ship.

Drink durin’ daylight, never again, Yuri vowed, scowling as the rest of the crew members drew their blades and flintlock pistols in preparation for boarding, “Approaching via starboard!” she announced, spinning the wheel so that right side of their ship faced the other vessel’s rear.

“Man the starboard canons! Fire freely on my mark!” Jessica silently counted down the seconds that it would take for the other ship to come into range. 5…4…3…2…1, “FIRE!”

A deafening roar echoed across the blue sea as the ship recoiled from the three powerful canon blasts. Jessica watched with grim satisfaction as a mast on the enemy’s ship collapsed. She made a mental note to give Minho, Jonghyun and Key a larger portion of the loot seeing as how they never did miss a target.

As the cannonballs smashed through the rear hull of the naval vessel, Jessica was never more glad that her ship could cut through the waters and turn relatively easy. “Halt all fire! Yul, bring us to portside! Quartermaster prepare to board! Portside gunners an’ deckhands with ye!”

Jessica drew her flintlock pistol and watched passively as the crew on the other ship began to fire back using long arquebus firearms. It wasn’t particularly useful from such a far range, and Jessica frowned, wondering why they haven’t fired the canons now that her ship was directly parallel to theirs.

“Belay that! Sooyoung do not board!” She called.

Sooyoung halted in mid stride, about to let loose her grappling hook. She bore an expression of confusion, it was the perfect time to board the enemy ship, “Captain?”

“They have yet to fire canons, something is rotten here,” Jessica narrowed her eyes, and pulled out her spyglass. The Naval crew were running amok (that much was expected), trying to repair the damage done to the rear hull, several of the crew members were firing pistols and flintlock guns (rather furtively) at her ship…Jessica looked around for the Captain but could not spot him, “What in the devil are they scheming?”

One of the lookouts screamed something urgently, but the firing pistols masked too much of the noise for Jessica to make it out.

“Fie upon all that is holy!” Yuri suddenly cursed, jerking the ship to the left so suddenly that Jessica nearly toppled over.

The captain barely managed to grab hold of the ropes to keep herself from a rather painful fall to the deck, “Yuri! What be the meaning of this!?” Jessica demanded, clutching onto the foresail rope.

“Kai spotted Siphons, the cockering dim-witted maggots are preparing Greek Fire!”

All the brash bluster disappeared from Jessica’s demeanour almost instantly. The legendary Greek Fire, Fire that burned on water. But then logic caught up to her, “Impossible! The English have not unlocked the secrets of Greek Fire! Twas lost! It be a fools bluff!”

However Yuri wasn’t keen on finding out for sure, “Better safe than burnin’ an’ drown’d!”

Jessica jumped down from the foresail ropes and landed with a thud next to Yuri. She grabbed the wheel and spun in around, bringing the ship back towards the Naval vessel.

“E’en by stroke of fate, they possess the fiendish flames, they wilt not fire upon their own vessel!” Jessica growled, “Prepare for boarding!”

“This be madness Jessica!” Yuri insisted, she turned to the quartermaster who was still waiting by the side, waiting for further orders, “Sooyoung! Tell her this be madness!”

“Nay!” Sooyoung smirked savagely, “Tis a good day to slay a few Blues! Gunners by my side!”

The portside gunners proceeded to lower the boarding ramp, before charging to the enemy vessel, Sooyoung and Jessica not far behind them.

“Oh for shits sake! Loggerheaded, dismal-dreaming idiots!” Yuri cursed, hand on the wheel, “If we die, I shall haunt ye fer all eternity Jessica!”

_____________________________________________________)

Meanwhile on the Endeavour, the crew members were in the midst of panic when canon fire rained down and large planks of wood splintered from the ship, lodging themselves into unsuspecting navy officers. The main mast had already fallen, and dozens of sailors were busy trying to cut it loose altogether, before the weight dragged them to the depths of Davy Jones’ Locker.  

“Pirates boarding portside!” one of the sailors yelled in panic, as he spotted grappling hooks imbedding themselves into the wooden hand rails.

“Shoot them!” Another one roared over the commotion.

BANG!

Another canon ball smashed into the once pristine deck.

“The ship shall be torn in two at this rate!” a panicked sailor looked around for any form of leadership frantically, “Where be the commodore!?”

Meanwhile below deck, Commodore Hwang watched as the men hurriedly pieced together the secret weapon that Admiral Choi had given him. The damp, musty air and the wet floor made Stephan all the more impatient.

“Is it prepared?” Stephan snapped, tapping his foot on the sea-soaked wood.

The siphons were an extra load to carry, and they had to get rid of some of the canons. If it didn’t work, then they were as good as doomed. The pirates already had a major head start in blowing holes into their ship, if the above commotion was anything to go by.

“Aye Commodore, ready to fire on command,” the boatswain replied with excited anticipation.

“Then what are ye waiting for? Fire!” Stephan ordered, scowling at the fumbling sailor. He made a mental note to find a new boatswain as soon as possible. One of the gunners ought to be more competent than this guy. That was the unfortunate thing about the Navy; most people got their ranks from who they knew, rather than what they knew.

Green flames erupted from the metal pipe and rained over the enemy ship, the water not impeding its path in the slightest. A smirk made its way onto Stephan’s face, “Magnificent. Keep firing, I shall overseer the battle from above deck.”

Stephan drew his sword and charged up the stairs. The sight that greeted him was not what he expected. Men lay sprawled across the deck, slain by the vicious beasts, their blood spilt over the once pristine wood. The surviving crew cowering or running aroint in no manner of organisation or purpose. The ones responsible for the chaos dared to stand behind the wheel of his ship. Immediately, Stephan looked around for the young helmsman, but could not find heads or tails of him.

“Well now, I thought I recognised yer ship,” a soft voice greeted pleasantly from behind him.

The commodore whipped around, eyes narrowing at the sight, “You!”

“Tis been a while, has it not Stephanie?” Jessica drawled, putting emphasis on the last syllable of ‘his’ name. The captain’s falchion and flintlock were in each hand, but they were not poised for battle, but hung limp at her side, demeanour simply oozing complacency.

The commodore was not amused, “Get off my ship, traitor!”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Jessica sounded not at all apologetic, “See, a certain someone has deemed it fit to set my vessel ablaze with cursed Greek fire,” she jabbed her thumb behind her in the direction of her burning ship, which was also rapidly emptying of its crew members, who were quickly clambering over to the Endeavour, “So I shall have to make do with this one.”

“This be my ship, an’ I will sooner hand it to Davy Jones than let it fall in the hands of a pirate!” Stephanie snarled, bringing her sword down, intent on slicing off the smirk on Jessica’s face.

Jessica barely moved a muscle. In fact, she moved all of three—to raise her arm, and pull the trigger. The noise was not even palpable over the chaos across the deck, but it seemed as if the entire ship stopped whatever they were doing and watched as the commodore dropped to the ground.

“I always did warn ye not ter bring swords to a gun fight,” Jessica said, expression almost forlorn. Countenance changing faster than the eye could blink, Jessica turned to address the rest of the ship, “Yer Captain is down! The ship is ours!”

Her crew cheered, but there was a hollow feeling in their cries, and Jessica could not blame them. After all, they had just lost their ship and all of their meagre possessions with it. She was going to have to do some major damage control after this, else risk a mutiny. She trusted her first mate more than anything, but she was not deaf to the crew’s mutterings, and many of them had been ill content in the past week.

Her men shoved the rest of the surviving Endeavour’s crew onto one of the longboats, and threw their injured captain with them. Jessica shook her head, “I would have hoped you would have learned better by now, old friend.”

“Captain, this ship needs major repairs. We need to dock, and quickly, else we risk laying rest at the bottom of the sea,” Sooyoung said urgently.

“Aye, cutting down the mast ‘twas folly in hindsight. Set course fer Canvey Island, we shall make port there,” Jessica agreed.

______________________________________________________________