#cardiamachina

[frizzyanya]

OP you left you my favorite so I'll add it here: from the collection Seventy Years of Sleep by cardiamachina, which is Stucky (Steve/Bucky) poetry.

the hardest lines ALWAYS come from fanfics and I stand by this

(credit to the authors!! I can't remember where exactly they all came from but if u recognise their work pls tag them :) they deserve way more recognition!!)

- JUST REDISCOVERED some of them are from The Art Of Burning by hella1975 which is an EXTREMELY amazing ongoing atla rewrite/canon divergence fic following zuko (also zukka but it hasn't quite happened yet) and everyone should read it - numbers 3, 4,5 and 9 to be exact

-The klance one (number 2) I'm pretty sure (but I may be wrong) is from either Just static by Jessadilla or never saw you coming by dimpleforyourthoughts (both are masterpieces)

- The batman one (number 8) is from Nature and Nurture by lurkinglurkerwholurks

- number 7 is a merthur fic called tell me every terrible thing you ever did (and let me love you anyway) by Stardustwrites17

- number 1 is another merthur fic, called Destiny Ordered You To Die, But I Willed You To Live by ironfamjam

- number 10 is from a steddie fic called let me know (everythings alright) by bexiguess (had too dig deep to find this one - the stranger things phase last summer was no joke 😭)

[sapphirerogers]

found a st*ggy stan who used "seventy years of sleep" (which if you didn't know, is a stucky poem by cardiamachina) for a st*ggy gifset. Deciding that the original work and its details needed to be known, but also wanting to be nice about it, I reblogged the post mentioning that it was in fact inspired by Stucky, with a Wikipedia screenshot.

Bitch comes into replies saying "yes, I know honey, that's the half of the point, bothering your kind" and this is where I blocked them.

I'm sorry you're free to ship whoever you want in fiction but if your motivation is simply to annoy people who don't agree with you (especially when your ship is a cheap copy of our ship that can't even have a non-toxic, original and convincing storyline, and does grave disservice to all three people across both ships) then all I can say is...I can see why you're a P*ggy stan. Stay mad.

Anyways just in case this post blows up (cause a recent one unexpectedly did),

Here's a petition link with a self explanatory title for Stucky shippers out there. Here is the original post I made about this.

[xiaq]

Since so many people are apparently NOT familiar with its origin, here's the poem it's from by @cardiamachina that made me legitimately cry when I read it for the first time.

[gay-jewish-bucky]

I keep seeing the misinfo spread and it makes me really sad, op is still around and writing poetry, keep rebloging the og posts!

@cardiamachina thank you for all you've done for our fandom!

Update to those worried about the original posts for the 70 Years of Sleep poems being deleted:

They're all still up, tumblr just broke custom domains.

Here is a new, functioning link, so you can reblog to your heart's content

And here is a link to the legendary 'I think we deserve a soft epilogue my love' excerpt, found in a later poem in a slightly altered form.

[winterofthedarkestlight]

This post came at the perfect time, because just the other day I had been thinking about the origins of popular fanon tropes in the context of another fandom. (In that case, I think that it really was the case of one author popularizing what used to be a rare pair, so that a lot of the fics for that pairing that came afterwards were directly inspired by that author's fics and not so much by canon. However, because Stucky was so popular with so many people so quickly, I don't think that phenomenon applies quite as strongly to it, although it's definitely still there.)

Regarding Steve's hair being referred to as blond, I honestly think that this is just a holdover from the comics, where he is consistently very blond. And from a thematic perspective, Steve's original (Jewish) creators made him the picture of the blond-haired blue-eyed "Aryan ideal" as a purposeful contrast to his anti-Nazi ideology.

As for Bucky's job at the docks: I think that it is a combination of (1) it being a very blue-collar job, and a lot of fic portrays Bucky as being as poor as Steve, and (2) the fact that the NY piers have often been associated with an underground gay/cruising scene. (And speaking of the history of LGBT life in NYC: there is an often-cited book in Stucky meta called Gay New York by George Chauncey which, among other things, mentions that the word "punk" in 1930s gay slang was the equivalent of "twink" today, so. Really makes you raise your eyebrows at Bucky calling pre-serum Steve a punk in First Avenger.)

The whole "70 years" thing is interesting, because while it could very well be that a lot of people just didn't catch the "almost 70 years," it's also possible that the very famous Stucky poetry collection Seventy Years of Sleep by cardiamachina (a.k.a. Nikka Ursula) was what popularized using that number. It is the origin of "we deserve a soft epilogue, my love," a phrase that has become so well-known that I've seen it used in the context of ships completely unrelated to the MCU.

You didn't mention any of these things, but I will point out what I think are the roots of a few other details that appear in multiple Stucky fics

(1) Gay New York also talks about a Brooklyn hotel called the Hotel St. George, which was a notorious gay cruising ground in the 20s and 30s, and I know that there are several fics which mention Steve and/or Bucky frequenting this hotel.

(2) There are several fics which involve Bucky writing letters to Steve during the war or keeping a diary, and I am pretty sure that most of them written post-2015 can have their inspiration at least partially traced back to the famous Not Easily Conquered series by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears, namely Part 2: The Thirteen Letters.

I've been curious lately about the origins of some details in Ao3 Stucky fics.

I'm relatively new to the fandom and didn't read fics back in the zenith of Stucky popularity, so I'm catching up on all of it now, and in a sense, I get a bigger picture of Stucky fics as a whole because I'm reading over a decade's worth of them in one go (instead of spread over the decade).

And I've noticed that there are some details that crop up pretty frequently, details that are movie-canon-adjacent but not actually canon, and the editor and researcher in me can't help but wonder how they came about — Were there 'fads' when it came to certain details? Like one popular fic author including a detail and others co-opting it and then it becoming ubiquitous? Because I can't imagine that so many authors individually made the same choices.

To clarify, I'm not referring to tropes, nothing like a/b/o or soulmate fics. I don't even mean the [over]use of epithets (that's for a different post). I'm talking about small details, like:

Calling the place Steve rescued Bucky and the others Azzano instead of Kreischberg (Azzano was where they got captured but they were brought to the factory in Kreischberg)

Calculating years Steve is out of the ice as 70 years + years passed (it was 66 years; Fury says "You've been asleep, Cap, for almost 70 years.")

Calling Bucky's hair chestnut (chestnut hair is lighter and maybe also a bit more reddish; his hair is only remotely chestnut after he gets a makeover to prepare for seeing Steve in Infinity War, but even then, calling it chestnut is still a stretch)

Calling Steve's hair blond (it's dirty blond at best; his enlistment form says light brown)

Blonde and brunette (okay I guess I am touching on epithets, but this is more about the use of the feminine forms of the words rather than the use in the first place)

Giving Bucky a job at the docks; or Bucky working at the family mechanics shop (this one's not incorrect, just very common for some reason; is it in any way comics-related?)

Making George Barnes abusive (same as above)

Anyone able to shed light on any of this?

(I'm also curious about fanart that has Bucky's right arm amputated/as a prosthesis instead of his left one.)

[gay-jewish-bucky]

op is still active actually, and the poems still exist on tumblr, they're @cardiamachina now

kinda sad that all the poems of 'seventy years of sleep" by nikka ursula doesn't originally exists anymore since the website is down and became public domain... now every other people who will hear about "we deserve a soft epilogue my love" won't know this is originally from a beautiful series of stevebucky poems that is iconic for us.

[seen-the-stars]

this is CRAZY im back on my nec bullshit after four years and on my nightly tumblr peruse i stumble upon a post about nikkas poetry.

@cardiamachina hi my love. how have you been

quick question is “not easily conquered” the name of the fic where we deserve a soft epilogue, my love

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, cardiamachina!

For @cardiamachina. I read through some of your fics here on Ao3, and I was impressed! I could gather from your writings that you love delving into feelings, so here's as many feels as I could fit into 5k words. If you're the kind to listen to music while you read, I recommend Taylor Swift's  Folklore, since I had it on repeat while I wrote - especially the song My Tears Ricochet. Once again, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and I hope you'll enjoy my little gift!

Read On AO3

*****

And They Were Snowbound

The bed that Alec was lying on was definitely not his.

He frowned, taking a moment to collect his bearings, thinking back to last night’s events. He remembered the reunion party, remembered meeting all of his older friends, and even-

Magnus.

Thinking of his name was enough to send a pang through Alec’s heart, reminding him of heartbreak long gone by. Last night, both of them had agreed that bygones were bygones, and then-

Just one night. For old times sake.

Magnus’s voice had been smooth as wine, his lips brushing warm against Alec’s ear, and Alec had never been able to say ‘no’ to him.

So here he was, several years after they’d broken up back in high school, lying in Magnus’s bed with all of his clothes scattered around on the floor, and having had only two, maybe three drinks, he had been sober enough last night that now he could recall every single second of the fervent, desperate sex they’d had last night with absolute clarity. 

Strangely, he didn’t regret it.

The room was empty of anyone but him, lying in the vast bed with its rumpled satin bedspread. The smooth cloth was oddly soothing against his bare skin. Alec slowly sat up, pulling the blanket closer to himself. If he had to walk through the house wrapped in a blanket to find Magnus, so be it.

Before he actually stood up, however, the door opened and Magnus stepped in, sporting a large smile and a mug of coffee, if the enchanting aroma was anything to go by. Alec tensed a moment, then immediately forced himself to relax. This was nothing. They had nothing going on here. They were just two exes who had a one-night stand, that was all.

“Good morning,” Magnus chirped, a little too brightly, and moved to sit in front of Alec. He held out the cup of coffee and Alec accepted it graciously, grimacing when the first sip of coffee burned his tongue.

Magnus chuckled. “I see you still have a habit of drinking your coffee while it’s too hot.”

Alec almost winced.

He remembers.

“Some things never change,” was all Alec whispered in return, and this time he made sure to blow on the coffee before sipping. As he drank, his eyes betrayed him, sliding up from the rumpled sheets he had been staring at to Magnus’s legs, dark thighs gleaming appealingly against the dark magenta of his silk robe. Alec’s gaze travelled higher, skimming over the belt of the robe tied over his waist to his chest, where the robe had parted like a curtain to expose a long stretch of skin, and then higher up, taking in sharp collar bones and the curve of his neck and jawline and then Alec’s eyes met Magnus’s, who was staring back, clearly not oblivious to Alec’s ogling, and he almost choked on his coffee.

Alec immediately looked away, heat rising up to his cheeks. He nearly missed the small knowing smile that had made its way onto Magnus’s lips.

“Sorry about that,” Alec said, his voice coming out hoarser than intended.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Magnus replied in a voice so low that Alec had almost missed it. He swallowed his nerves, his throat surprisingly dry despite the coffee.

“I’ll, um-“ Alec ducked his head, embarrassed at his own awkwardness. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of our hair.”

Magnus was silent, and Alec cautiously looked up after waiting for a few moments for a reply. He frowned when he saw Magnus looking out the window, a frown on his usually unblemished face.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asked.

“Right. About that. You can’t leave, I’m afraid,” Magnus said in an apologetic voice, turning to look at Alec with an equally apologetic look. “See, we were oblivious to it last night, but-“

“But what?” Alec asked, his heartbeat quickening. Magnus’s hesitation was beginning to worry him.

Magnus sighed and visibly braced himself. “There was a blizzard last night. A really heavy one at that.”

Alec frowned. “How heavy?”

Magnus bit his lip. “About 25 inches.”

Alec’s eyes flew wide open at that, and he gaped at Magnus for a long moment before gulping down the rest of the coffee.

“The roads are too full of snow to be driving, and the subway is closed,” Magnus went on, stating the obvious as if Alec didn’t know. “I’m afraid you’re stuck here until- well, until the authorities finally get rid of all the snow.”

“So basically,” Alec mumbled, more to himself than to Magnus. “We’re stuck together. For the whole day. Maybe even more than a day.”

Magnus gave him a sweet, apologetic smile and took the now empty cup from Alec. “I’m afraid so, darling.”

Well, fuck.

A few hours later found Alec and Magnus sitting on opposite ends of the couch in the living room, classical music playing in the background while Magnus idly tapped away at his phone and Alec absentmindedly watched the news on the large TV in front of him. A reporter was standing in front of a snowy background, talking about the blizzard that had hit the city last night.

“How is it that she gets to leave her house?” Alec mumbled.

“Because it’s her duty,” Magnus replied almost immediately in a dry tone. “And we’ll just be useless citizens getting in the way of the media and the authorities.”

Alec sighed and slumped back into the cushions. “This sucks.”

Magnus spared Alec a glance away from his phone.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Alec grumbled. “I didn’t expect to be stuck in a house with my ex-boyfriend, you know.”

“Rude,” Magnus muttered, turning back to his phone.

“No offence,” Alec amended immediately. “It’s just… this is awkward.”

He gestured between the two of them, the vast stretch of the couch separating them. Magnus’s eyes briefly flickered towards him.

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Magnus mumbled, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. Alec had to resist the urge to throw a pillow at him.

Instead he shifted in his seat, turning away from Magnus and idly drumming his fingers over his knee.

This was never supposed to happen. Last night was supposed to be sex, and sex alone. Alec was supposed to have woken up this morning and walked out without another word, maybe take a shower if he was lucky. He wasn’t supposed to be forced to spend a day or two extra with Magnus. He had no idea what to think of this now. He had no idea no how to handle being around Magnus.

A pang rang out through Alec’s heart, nearly rendering him breathless for a moment. He took a deep breath, and out of the corner of his eye, looked at Magnus again.

Magnus’s side of the couch was towards the balcony on the far end of the hall, and silvery light streamed in through the glass french doors, outlining Magnus’s profile in blinding white. He was utterly oblivious to Alec’s staring, his gaze focused on his phone, and judging by the way he was tapping away insistently, he was clearly texting someone. Magnus had changed out of his robe and was now dressed in simple jeans that hugged his legs and a muted blue sweatshirt. His hair was styled up into a mohawk, but a few stubborn strands hung over Magnus’s forehead, making Alec resist the urge to reach out and brush them out of the way. Several years ago, Alec wouldn’t have to resist.

A memory flashed in front of his eyes, unbidden, of his fingers brushing across Magnus’s forehead, and Magnus slowly breaking out into a bright smile, his eyes glittering. It tugged powerfully at his heartstrings now, the memory and the distance and all the years and Magnus.

He wasn’t going to survive this at all.

“Hey, Magnus?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I was wondering…”

“...”

“What happens after this?”

“It depends. What do you want?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Alec-“

“It’s either losing you or losing my family, Magnus. You know how they get.”

“I know.” I know which one you’d rather lose.

Magnus returned the jar of spice to its place on the shelf, and despite himself, turned to glance at Alec.

Alec still hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He was now leaning back into the cushions, his legs pulled up against his chest and balanced on the edge of the couch. His gaze, from what Magnus could see, was focused on the television, which now seemed to be playing infomercials. Magnus let his own gaze linger on Alec for a moment - he seemed exhausted, his hair sticking up in all directions as if Alec had continuously been running his hand through it. Maybe he had.

He was currently wearing one of Magnus’s more sober shirts along with sweatpants - also Magnus’s - since he couldn’t spend a whole day indoors wearing a suit. Alec seemed distant, his gaze faraway as he reached up a hand, and just as Magnus predicted, ran it through his hair, messing it up even more. Unbidden, a soft smile made its way onto Magnus’s face.

He remembered those days, when things seemed more simple and complex at the same time, when Alec would often drop by his house after soccer practice, his hair all ruffled up from an hour of roughhousing. Magnus remembered how incredibly soft his hair was to the touch, whenever he’d run his hand through it during secretive kisses exchanged all those years ago, and then again last night.

Magnus had no idea what he’d been thinking last night, when he’d walked up to Alec and offered him, as he’d put it so eloquently, ‘drinks and something more’. He’d seen Alec, standing among the crowd with a flute of champagne in his hand, and had the breath knocked out of him immediately.

Even after all those years, Alec was just as handsome as ever.

Even after all those years, Magnus was just as in love with him as ever.

He was a fool.

Magnus took a deep breath and turned off the stove, stepping into the living room. There was no point dwelling on the past. The past was the past, bygones were bygones. 

He raised an eyebrow at the infomercial playing on TV. “Now, what would you need a super mega slicer for?”

“It helps slice vegetables faster,” Alec said dryly. “Very helpful in the kitchen.”

“My my,” Magnus teased, leaning against the wall closest to him. “Has Alexander finally learned to cook a proper meal?”

Alec mumbled something unintelligible and shrugged. Upon noticing Magnus’s gaze, he finally relented and sighed, 

“I’m an adult, I had to,” he said monotonously. “It’s not like I have anyone to cook for me anyway.”

“You have me now,” Magnus blurted out, unable to help himself.

Alec looked at him, and then away, then opened and closed his mouth several times before falling silent and looking away.

Magnus took pity on him and decided to let it drop. “Anyway, I much prefer cutting vegetables with a knife. Somehow, they taste better.”

Alec snorted. “Why, though?”

Magnus grinned at him. “It’s the magic of things handmade with love as opposed to those manufactured by machines, darling.”

nufactured by machines, love."

Alec flushed at the endearment and looked away, though he didn't let the conversation stop in its track. "You sound like my mother."

"In good ways, I hope." Magnus beckoned Alec closer with one hand and retreated into the kitchen, yelling over his shoulder as he went, "Anyways, lunch is ready. I'm afraid you'll have to come over to take a bite."

Magnus heard Alec sigh loudly from the living room and chuckled to himself as he mixed the fried rice one last time. He heard footsteps from behind him, followed by Alec’s voice.

"Where are the plates?"

"Top left drawer," Magnus said, taking a bit of the rice and tasting it to make sure there was enough salt. "Spoons in the one to the right."

Magnus realized he still had to add some coriander leaves, and turned to get them, nearly bumping into Alec who had retrieved the plates. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Magnus turned away, breaking the moment and sidestepping to get to the fridge.

They worked together, Alec setting the table while Magnus topped the jar of water and added some finishing touches to the rice. Soon, everything was set and as they ate, Magnus couldn’t help but glance at Alec every few seconds, who had immediately dug into the food.

It didn’t take long for Alec to notice his staring, and he immediately slowed down his chewing, turning his eyes to the far wall. A few awkward moments passed, then Alec cleared his throat and said, “Um, this tastes good.”

“I’m glad.” Magnus offered him a small smile, mentally chiding himself and making a note to take the staring down a notch. He couldn’t help himself, though. Alec was extremely handsome, now more than ever before, and he had missed him so much-

The memory of their breakup snapped at Magnus’s brain like the slap of a rubber band, and Magnus composed himself, shaking all thoughts of Alec out of his mind. 

Several awkward moments passed in silence with Magnus and Alec eating and avoiding each other’s gazes, the only sounds in the living room being the clink of steel spoons against ceramic and the distant echo of a Christmas carol from the neighbouring house.

Alec cleared his throat, making Magnus look at him with mild surprise, and asked, “So, what do you do?”

Magnus shrugged, slowly chewing on his mouthful of rice before swallowing it down. “Well, I got into fashion, set up some stores across the country. Business is doing good so far. What about you?”

Alec hesitated, then said, “I’m, uh, a lawyer.”

Magnus tapped his spoon against the plate, avoiding Alec’s eyes. “Doing exactly what your parents wanted to do, huh?”

Alec was silent. He felt something bitter stir inside of him, old memories of heartbreak creeping up on him again.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get married to a woman and have three kids already,” Magnus muttered, mostly to himself, but not low enough that Alec couldn’t hear him.

The room was dangerously silent. Magnu could feel Alec’s gaze on him, but he avoided it in favour of poking at his rice.

Then there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Magnus turned to see that Alec was standing, his hands laid flat on the table, his gaze turned downwards. He looked incredibly distant for a moment, then stepped away from the table.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Alec mumbled, heading towards the bedrooms before visibly reconsidering and walking to the couch. Magnus watched as he flopped onto the couch, his face turned away, and then turned to his own plate.

He wasn’t hungry anymore either.

“Can’t you explain to your parents, Alexander? Maybe they’ll understand…”

“They won’t, Magnus. They want me to date and get married to some woman. My father has said several times exactly what he thinks about people like this. They won’t change, Magnus. I’m sorry.”

“Then we’ll run away. We can go someplace far from your parents. We could be happy together.”

“I can’t leave them behind… I love my parents. I love Izzy and Jace and Max… I can’t just leave.”

“Don’t you love me, Alexander?”

“I do! God, I love you more than everything… but Magnus, they’re my family. I can’t-“

“Why not? If they don’t love you for who you are… then they don’t love you at all.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I believe it is.”

“Of course you do- you don’t have parents, you’ve never had to come out to anyone, you won’t understand!”

“...”

“...”

“I see how it is.”

“Magnus- Magnus, wait!”

“I was married.”

Magnus looked up from his book so fast he nearly got whiplash. Alec was laying on the couch on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one hand draped over his chest. His eyes flickered from one point to another on the ceiling as he spoke on,

“I met her in college,” he said, licking his lips, his voice slightly rough. “We got married after graduation. Divorced a year and a half later.”

Alec turned to Magnus, meeting his eyes, and it wasn’t until a few seconds later that it occurred to Magnus that he was supposed to reply.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Alec, I-“

Alec waved it off. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s fine, it was all in the past.”

Magnus gave a small, imperceptible nod and shifted awkwardly, fiddling with his phone. “Did she know?” 

“Yes.”

“And your parents?” Magnus looked at Alec expectantly.

Alec bit his lip. “They know. They reacted exactly how I expected them to.”

“Oh,” was all Magnus said in a low voice.

Alec shrugged. “I mean, it’s fine. I wasn’t a seventeen year old afraid of getting kicked out of home. I had a job, an apartment of my own… it was fine.”

“Is it fine now?” Magnus asked.

Alec turned on his side so he could face Magnus as he spoke. “I’m still talking to my siblings. My parents like to pretend I don’t exist, though. It… it hurts a little. I’m not going to lie. But at least I know I can be happy now.”

A small smile graced Magnus’s features. “That’s good.”

Alec was silent for a moment, then added, “I wanted to tell you about it, but I didn’t know how to reach you. No one from our grade knew about your whereabouts. I tried your phone number-“

“I had to change it.” Magnus’s smile turned sheepish and a little apologetic. “Crazy exes and all.”

“Oh.” Alec nodded, and shifted to tuck his arm under his head. “Did you ever… you know, want to find me?”

Magnus felt a pang in his heart. “I did. Turns out ‘Alexander Lightwood’ is  more common of a name on Instagram than I thought.”

Alec grinned. “I don’t have an Instagram.”

“Ah, no wonder I couldn’t find you.” Magnus returned the grin. “Too bad. I spent several hours scrolling through all the names trying to find you.”

Alec blinked at him, astonished. “Wait, really?”

Magnus sobered up and shot him a coy smile, humming contemplatively. “Maybe.”

Alec chuckled, sounding exasperated, and sat up straight. “Are we just going to sit here like this all day?”

Magnus closed his book and set it aside. “I suppose not. What do you want to do?”

Alec shrugged, and then glanced at the TV. “We could watch a movie.”

A sudden onslaught of memories hit Magnus like a truck, of several evenings, nights and afternoons spent with him and Alec sprawled out on the couch at Magnus’s house, or in his bed, huddled together under a blanket and watching movies on the TV or on Magnus’s laptop precariously balanced on their laps. He remembered Alec's hair brushing softly against his jawline as he'd rest his head on Magnus’s shoulder, the way their legs would tangle together, the soft kisses they would exchange in the middle of those movie marathons, the quiet conversations whispered into each other's ears.

Magnus’s lips twitched up into a small smile, unbidden. 

"Magnus?"

Magnus snapped out of his musings, turning to Alec, who was staring back with mild confusion and concern. 

"Right," Magnus said, his voice slightly rough. "Movies. Of course." 

He stood up and smiled at Alec, hoping it didn't come out wobbly. "I'll make some popcorn. Pick out a movie in the meantime."

Alec grinned, and Magnus’s heart skipped a beat. "Sure."

He turned away and practically ran into the kitchen, taking a moment to collect himself, his hands braced against the counter. 

Get a grip on yourself, he told himself, and took a deep breath.

He thought back to last night, when he'd seen Alec among the crowd and immediately lost his breath. He'd thought he'd moved on, from Alec, from everything between them, but apparently, that wasn't the case.

So he'd approached Alec, struck up conversation, invited him to bed even though there was a voice inside him warning him against all of it, knowing that once he'd had a taste of Alec, he'd never be able to come back from it.

Yet he'd gone ahead and done it anyway. 

“Magnus… I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not? Why not, Alexander?”

“You know why…”

“Right. Your family. Sorry I asked.”

“Magnus, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t-“

“I’m really sorry, I-“

“You don’t have to explain anymore.”

“Magnus-“

“...”

“...”

“Goodbye, Alexander.”

The day hadn’t been as awful as Alec had dreaded it would be. 

He’d been jittery all morning, his nerves feeling as if they’d been set on fire everytime he was remotely close to Magnus. Even when Magnus was in another room, he was constantly on edge, ready to bolt from that house at any moment.

Even now, sitting on the couch with Magnus at an arm's length away, Alec wanted to run and hide from Magnus. He was extremely good at hiding it, of course, especially after they’d talked about Alec’s marriage, and yet...

He didn’t feel like showing his face to Magnus at all. He’d been a coward, he realised now, all those years ago when he was still with Magnus. If only he’d just been brave enough to come out to his parents, to hold Magnus’s hand in public, to show everyone they belonged together. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to breakup with Magnus, maybe he wouldn’t have had to marry Lydia, even if it was for a short time. Maybe he and Magnus would be watching this same movie today, in a completely different house, without any distance between them.

It hurt to think of it.

And though Alec desperately wished he could turn back time and change things, there was nothing he could do now.

“I can hear you thinking from over here.”

Alec winced and turned to Magnus, who was looking right at him, a small knowing smile on his face. 

“I know you, Alexander,” Magnus said, his hand twitching by his side, as if he wanted to reach out to Alec. “What’s going on?”

Alec blinked and shook his head, just barely opening his mouth to mumble out some excuse when Magnus spoke again.

“Thinking about what-ifs, Alexander?” 

Magnus was looking at him out of curious eyes, his head tilted towards one side. Alec’s throat went dry, and after several moments of struggling to form words, he said,

“I wish you wouldn’t say my name like that.”

Magnus laughed softly, and shifted so that he was completely facing Alec now. The movie, playing idly on the TV, was all but forgotten.

“Why not, Alexander?” He asked cheekily. Alec flushed and turned away, fiddling with the hem of his - no, Magnus’s - shirt.

“Hey.” Alec felt the couch shift beneath him, and then Magnus was right beside him, reaching out to grasp Alec’s chin and turn his face towards him. Alec’s breath hitched as his eyes met Magnus’s, shining softly in the dimly lit room.

Magnus’s eyes flicked about Alec’s face, as if examining him, his fingers still on Alec’s face. The points were they touched burned like pure fire, and Alec wouldn’t be surprised if they left marks behind after Magnus pulled away.

“I’m just… thinking, I suppose,” Alec whispered.

A minute crease formed between Magnus’s eyebrows. “About what?”

Alec smiled wryly and shrugged. “Things.”

Magnus nodded, but didn’t move. He looked expectant, as if waiting for an answer.

“I just regret things, I guess,” Alec admitted finally.

An understanding passed over Magnus’s face. “Ah, the classic ‘what-ifs’.”

Alec nodded, the wry smile still on his face.

“Things could have been different,” he whispered, his gaze dropping low.

“They always are,” Magnus said, his fingers moving from Alec’s chin to his ear, flicking at the few strands of hair that curled under Alec’s earlobe. “We can’t do anything about it, Alexander. We never can. We just make do with what we have, and move on making the best of it.”

Alec nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. Somehow, that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Magnus smiled at him and lowered his hand, turning away and yet sitting right where he was, right beside Alec. He missed Magnus’s touch immediately, and resisted the urge to reach up and touch the spot where Magnus’s hand had been.

“What about you?” he asked, ruefully turning his eyes back to the TV again.

Magnus cocked his head in Alec’s direction. “What about me?”

“Do you have any regrets?”

A small, wry smile formed on Magnus’s lips. “Everyone does.”

Alec nodded and dropped the topic, trying to focus on the movie again. 

But Magnus was right beside him, and Alec couldn’t focus. His eyes flicked to Magnus, once, twice, and then he willed himself to stop, staring at the TV without watching anything at all.

A few heavy moments passed, and then Alec jumped when he felt Magnus shift beside him, resting his head on Alec’s shoulder. Magnus wrapped his hands around Alec’s arm, holding on, utterly silent.

Alec stared at him, pleasant surprise hazing through his senses, and he slowly leaned in, resting his cheek against the top of Magnus’s head.

“I missed this,” Alec whispered without even thinking of it, and froze.

Magnus’s hand slid down to hold Alec’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Me too.”

Alec let out a shaky breath. “I thought bygones were bygones?”

Magnus was silent for a long time, and then he said. “What would you do if I said they weren’t?”

The pressure in Alec’s heart was too immense. For a few moments, he was unable to breathe.

“I don’t know.”

“You said you regretted something,” Magnus asked softly. “What was it?”

Alec pressed his lips tight together. “Do you want to know?”

Magnus was silent. “Maybe.”

The TV speakers blared out empty dialogues throughout the living room. Alec took a deep breath.

“I regret marrying her,” Alec whispered. “Even then, I-“

He held on to Magnus’s hand, squeezing it tight. 

“Even when I was at the altar,” Alec went on, Magnus’s words from earlier ringing in his head. We move on. We make do. We make the best of what he have.

“I could only think of you, Magnus,” Alec choked out.

Magnus froze, and immediately moved away from Alec, his ragged breathing echoing out in the space between them. His eyes were wide, his lips parting slightly as he looked at Alec.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispered, his voice beseeching.

Alec reached out, feeling disoriented, as if a large bandaid had just been ripped off of him, and took Magnus’s hand in his.

“I’d keep looking towards the door, hoping that you’d suddenly walk in and take me away from there,” Alec said, his voice breaking. Magnus exhaled, his eyes large and sorrowful as he looked at him. “Maybe I should’ve called off the wedding right away. I don’t know. I can’t change that anymore. But…”

Alec swallowed the lump in his throat, but it stubbornly lingered on. “I can only make the best of the time we have left.”

Magnus was staring at him, looking pained. Alec couldn’t tell what he was thinking - he seemed closed off, his thoughts only for himself. Heat rose up to his cheeks and he turned away, taking his hand back.

“I’m sorry, I-“ Alec cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have- forget I said anything.”

Alec stood up, whirling away from the couch and heading straight for the door. He couldn’t think straight; he had no idea where he wanted to go, only that he had to get away from here, away from Magnus. He’d messed everything up, again.

All he could hear was the ringing in his ears, the heartbroken beat of his heart. Alec had just reached the door and was about to reach for it when a hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him around roughly until he was facing Magnus once again.

Magnus gripped the collar of Alec’s shirt, pulling him closer, looking right into his eyes with a fierce fire burning in his own. With a shock, Alec realised that the kohl lining Magnus’s eyes was smudged, black tears lingering at the fringes of his eyes, threatening to fall.

Alec was about to open his eyes to apologise when Magnus said, his voice harsh and rough and never so beautiful as it had been in that moment, “Don’t you dare walk away from me again.”

Alec let loose a shaky breath and smiled a wobbly smile, his whole body slumping in relief. Magnus returned the smile, and Alec reached out to cup his face, brushing away his tears with the tips of his thumbs.

“I won’t,” Alec whispered, leaning in to touch his forehead to Magnus’s. “Never again. I promise.”

Magnus chuckled breathlessly and tilted his head, brushing his lips against Alec’s invitingly. “If you must know, bygones were never bygones, Alexander. Not with you.”

“Me too,” Alec said, and closed the distance between them.

Later they would lay in bed, lips against breathless lips, bonelessly wrapped around each other, talking about the years gone by and the years to come, smiles hidden in the curves of their shoulders and the folds of the blanket. For now, they let their bodies do the talking, pulling each other closer by their belt loops, lips chasing lips as they kissed all the way to the bedroom and beyond. Unlike last night, tonight was slow and sensual, less desperate and more a promise to stay, every breath making up for the time lost, over and over and over again.

No more regrets.

The blizzard settled down a few days later, and Alec's life was back to normal, almost.

To his previous daily schedule of eight hours of working, eight hours of sleeping, two hours of eating, one hour of gym, three hours of hobbies and two hours of laying awake in bed and thinking, he now had to cut out the regret and throw in twenty-fours of loving Magnus, and it was the best choice of his life.

The days flicked by, and before they knew it, Christmas was upon them. Ten years ago, Magnus would've been extremely into the Christmas spirit, and that was one thing that hadn't changed over the years.

"Are you done?" Alec asked, trying not to laugh, his voice slightly muffled by Magnus’s stomach which was right in his face. He was holding Magnus up with his arms wrapped around Magnus’s thighs, one of his hands balanced on Alec's shoulder as he struggled to hang up a branch of mistletoe on the ceiling.

"Almost done!" Magnus answered, and a few moments later, Alec felt him tap on his shoulder. "Okay, you can let me down!"

Alec grinned and gently put Magnus down, then straightened and looked at the mistletoe with its impressive berries daintily hanging from the ceiling. In one corner of the room, the Christmas tree had already been set up, adorned with tinsel and ornaments and a large star on the top.

"It looks good," Alec said, looking up at the mistletoe. 

"Doesn't it?" Magnus’s voice was light, chirpy. "Now, kiss me."

Alec turned his grin down to Magnus and obliged, going in for a kiss and wrapping his arms around Magnus’s waist. He could feel Magnus smile against his lips, the simple smile igniting something inside Alec and sending warmth flooding through his veins.

Sometimes, he regretted that he hadn't acted sooner, that he and Magnus could've had this for the past ten years. But everytime, Magnus’s words came back to him - you can never change the past. You can only move forward.

And Alec planned to move forward, with Magnus right by his side.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @cardiamachina!

This was a real joy to write, mostly because it's a very different fic to what I normally do. I'm super hoping the light angst isn't too much as I know angst was a dislike!

I hope this exploration of immortal husbands makes for a satisfying Christmas gift. I always like to explore decisions and choices in my fic, so this was a really lovely opportunity for me to actually write some of my feelings on why - or why not - Alec and Magnus should be eternal.

Merry Christmas!

Read on AO3

******

A Malec Christmas Carol

Chapter 1: Christmas Eve

“Oh come out, you little bugger,” Magnus swore under his breath as he levered the Angelica out by the root. This would be much easier if he had Alexander by his side - the plant responded to Angel blood and practically leaped into his hands - but he’d nearly run out, Christmas Eve was the full moon and he couldn’t begrudge Alec spending this night with his family. Especially not as last year Magnus had whisked him off to Madagascar for some winter sun. And if he was honest, to watch Alec’s delight as lemurs cheerfully romped over them both, stealing fruit out of their hands. Magnus thought of it like an extension of their honeymoon.

But that indulgence last Christmas left him alone this Christmas Eve, collecting plants by the shore of Lake Lyn, bathed under the cold eerie light of the full moon. Absolutely fucking freezing as well, he thought ruefully. And no Alexander later in his bed to warm him up. Ah well, he would be back tomorrow and they would have Christmas together. Maybe a warm crackling fire and hot toddies and Magnus could conjure a fluffy rug to lay Alexander down on. Magnus grinned to himself and moved to the crop of Blessed Thistle growing out between two rocks. Planning and anticipation was really half the fun.

Two plants obtained, he placed them carefully in his herb pouch and stood, brushing dirt from his knees. It was a fair trek back to the loft in Alicante and Magnus contemplated a portal, but the combination of full moon and mildly holy plants on his person sometimes did funny things to his magic. He sighed, pulled his scarf closer about his neck, and set off, the light of the moon illuminating the way. It was astonishing, really, how bright the moon could be on dark nights, even with the rebuilt towers of Alicante twinkling like beacons in the distance. It was pleasant, really. Had he thought the light was cold and icy before? It seemed to glow now, warmer and warmer, golden round the edges.

Magnus became aware of several things at once.

One, the moon is not golden, nor does it give off warmth. So that was definitely not the damn moon. Two, there was a faint ringing in his ears, not like he’d been to a loud gig, but like thousands of bells and chimes were tangling and jingling in the distance. Three, there was an Angel suspended over Lake Lyn.

Magnus froze, eyes riveted to the vision in front of him. He felt detached from his body, so suddenly immersed in panic he’d come out the other side into a zen-like calm as the Angel opened his mouth and spoke his name.

His real name.

Magnus swallowed.

“Son of the Angel Asmodeus, former-prisoner of Edom. Or do you now prefer Magnus Bane,” the Angel continued, not really making it sound like a question.

“Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus corrected, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth and finding his voice. He wasn’t sure he could move any of his limbs, whether by the Angel’s doing or his own fear, he didn’t know. But Angels didn’t appear to Downworlders. Angels especially didn’t appear to the sons of Fallen Angels, Princes of Hell. His eyes adjusted to the light emanating from the Angel and he raked over his appearance, looking for clues as to his identity. Handsome, muscular, scarred - scarred - piercing blue eyes and a long spear with a fluttering white scrap of material clasped in his hand.

Michael then. General of the armies of Heaven. Banisher of his father. Banisher of Lucifer .

Magnus was in trouble. And he’d never get to tell Alexander goodbye.

“I come to you now to offer you payment.”

He blinked, then shook his head as if to clear his ears, chimes still tinkling somewhere. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Payment. Or a reward, depending on how you wish to see it.” Michael spoke in a slow monotone and Magnus failed to read any emotion in his words.

“What have I done that could possibly lead to a reward from the Archangel Michael?” Magnus asked, not trusting anything. This could be a hallucination. A trick from a demon. A prank of a Warlock, not that he was aware of any in Alicante right then.

And yet, he knew. He knew in his bones, in what passed for a soul deep inside, that this was Michael. The real Michael in front of him.

He tried to make himself remember that the Angels were cruel. They’d only just allowed Clary to return to them. Oh, fuck . The probability that this was bad news statistically rocketed when he remembered Biscuit was back in the Shadow World.

“You prevented the destruction of our people. You protected Idris and the mortal world with your blood. Your immortal life. When you had much to stay for, you sacrificed all.”

Magnus cocked his head, narrowing his eyes at the Angel.

“Ye-es,” he dragged out. “I did that over a year ago.”

“Thirteen months, twenty-two days, fifteen hours and eleven minutes ago.”

“Can you tell me the seconds too?” Magnus quipped before he could control his mouth.

“Magnus Lightwood-Bane,” the Angel intoned, his eyes narrowing slightly. Magnus felt a wave of energy swell over him, and he staggered against the sensation.

“Apologies,” he whispered, his mouth paper dry.

“We give to you the gift of immortal life.” Michael stopped, as if this was enough information.

Magnus waited for a few seconds and then opened his mouth, abruptly shutting it again. He did that a couple of times, before running on autopilot, shifting his weight to one hip and waving his hand around airily.

“I hate to sound ungrateful, but I’m already immortal. I know sometimes people can miss that because of the rest of the fabulous-ness, but that’s me. Living forever.”

There was a silence, slightly too long to be comfortable, and then Michael raised one eyebrow. Damn, Magnus was impressed by how sarcastic that one gesture was.

“Who said it was for you? It’s a gift. That you can give to someone else, if you wish it.”

All colour drained from Magnus’ face and he sat down on the earth, collapsing with a thud.

“No,” he whispered, staring at Michael with wide eyes. That couldn’t mean what he was taking it to mean. The Angels, they wouldn’t be that kind. His mind flashed to Alec, surrounded by his family when they’d moved to Alicante, hugging Izzy when she became the Head of the Institute, looking so proud and full of love. No, but they’d be that cruel.

“Are you… are you saying I have the power to make anyone immortal?”

Michael inclined his head once. “Yes. You would bind them to your life force, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You would protect him with your life.”

“Him?” Magnus echoed hollowly. He hated that Michael could see right through him.

“We see all,” was all Michael replied, and Magnus shuddered. Great, voyeuristic Angels, that’s all his libido needed.

“You have until the clock strikes midnight on Christmas Day to perform the ritual,” Michael continued, and suddenly in Magnus’ mind the knowledge of how to do it, how to bind Alec to his own immortal life force, dropped in like it had always been there. Like he’d always known. It felt obscene, a violation, horrifically unnatural, and Magnus gasped, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple. His herb pouch grew heavier with the small Adamas dagger that the ritual required. They had thought of everything, which is why Magnus, after being tricked by Lilith and his father, was instantly suspicious.

“What’s the catch? Forgive my candour, but we haven’t exactly been used to the generosity of Angels.”

“No? Did Ithuriel not give his life for Clarissa Morgenstern? Have we not guided and protected your loved ones through troubles of their own making? Did Raziel not grant Clarissa’s wish?”

“And then erased her life because she saved hundreds of Nephilim, causing untold pain to those I care about,” he retorted.

“I am not compelled to justify our decisions.” Magnus could make out the beginning hints of colour high on Michael’s cheeks, his lips compressed into a thin line. “We move to God’s will.”

“You’re saying it’s God’s will that Alexander lives forever,” he scoffed, his scepticism rising. There was always something in return. Nothing was ever free.

“And we will not be questioned,” Michael continued as if Magnus hadn’t spoken, the light around him growing dim, the edges of his body beginning to blur and fade. It was a disconcerting effect, not least because it meant the Angel was leaving.

“Well, I’m going to question you anyway. What do you want from me - from Alec?” Magnus held out his hand as if he could entreat Michael to stay longer, aware his voice edged into pleading for answers.

“It’s a gift, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You may choose to ignore it, and he will remain mortal and die in time.”

“And if I ask him to share my immortal life? Does he remain - is he still..?” Magnus trailed off, swallowing around the words. Despite Alexander’s ludicrous demand to become a vampire to join Magnus in Edom, Magnus had never been able to separate the Shadowhunter from the man. Especially when Alec had so recently been promoted and could finally begin to make real, systemic changes to the Clave.

“He will always be my kin,” Michael answered evasively, which honestly was not as reassuring as Magnus wanted it to be.

“As will you,” the Angel continued, which was possibly even more alarming. Michael’s form faded even further until Magnus could make out the woods behind him.

“Your ki… no, wait. Don’t leave!”

“Until midnight on Christmas Day, Magnus Lightwood-Bane, son of Asmodeus,” the Angel intoned and then winked out of existence as if he’d neer been there. Magnus sat staring at the spot for Lilith knew how long, frozen to the ground, unmoving until his leg cramped and jolted him out of his reverie.

“Ow, shit,” he hissed, digging his palm into the muscle of his calf. Magnus forced himself to his feet, brushing at his clothing, and then risked a look inside his pouch. Out of season lavender curled around the simple hilt of an Adamas dagger. There was a small pouch next to it, and Magnus lifted it out with trembling numb fingers. White Willow bark. Perfect for Moon magic and symbolising long-lasting love. It wasn’t necessary for the ritual - spell, he would say, but somehow instinctively knew the Angels would not want it called that - but it would strengthen the effectiveness, he supposed. They really wanted this to work.

Which meant they had some purpose for Alec to keep living.

Magnus walked home lost in his thoughts, snapping a fire to life in the fireplace automatically when he got inside. He placed the pouch carefully in his study and locked the door, not wanting Alec to find it. Not until he’d talked to him.

How the fuck was he going to talk to him? How could he spring something so momentous on his husband?

Would Alec even want to spend eternity with him?

Magnus shook his head and went back into his study, rooting around for Bearberry and Blue Sage, then threw the herbs into his cauldron. He added brandy because he might as well enjoy the drink, and muttered an incantation for guidance, appealing to the spirits to give him clear thought and a calm mind. Straining it into his mug, he tidied up and relocked the door, making his way to bed.

Even the brandy couldn’t fully mask the bitterness of the drink but he forced it down and prepared for bed, taking off his makeup and settling in for the night. Shooting a goodnight text to Alexander, he turned off the lights and prepared for sleep, hoping that his dreams would hold the answers.

Chapter 2: Past

“Tsk. Well at least you had some sense to ask for my opinion, seeing how well it served you last time. Come on, open your eyes you dramatic old goat, and have some more brandy. ”

Magnus frowned and blinked open his eyes. He was fully dressed, sat in front of a roaring fire in what looked like his old London townhouse, sharing a very good vintage from 1862 with Ragnor Fell.

“So. Not in Alicante, then.”

Ragnor snorted. “Still as quick as ever. Honestly, how you managed to become a High Warlock of anything with a brain as slow as treacle I’ll never know.” He settled back into the large Chesterfield and sipped from his glass, harrumphing into it.

“Slept my way to the top,” Magnus said automatically, falling back into their old banter before startling forward.

“ Ragnor .”

“What is it, you histrionic clothes horse?”

“Am I dead? Are you alive? Why am I in London? Where’s Alexander?” Magnus demanded answers in an increasingly belligerent tone.  Ragnor thwapped him in the knee with one slippered foot and Magnus subsided, glaring.

“Because the higher powers have a terrible and literal sense of humour, I’m meant to tell you I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past. I like to think of it as me sensibly and altruistically preventing you from making a terrible mistake of course. Again. As per usual. Come on, get up.” He rose to his feet, brushing down his velvet trousers and smoothing his cravat.

“Mistake?” Magnus echoed, clambering to his feet. He looked at his brandy glass, debated putting it down and instead polished it off in one gulp. If he was going to have vivid dreams like this he was going to enjoy the free booze.

“In your love life, of course. I apologize for missing your first wedding, but I had to RSVP on account of being dead.”

“Ragnor,” Magnus said again, tears springing to his eyes as he pulled Ragnor into a hug. “My oldest friend.”

“Stop touching me,” Ragnor said, wheezing slightly from having his ribs squeezed. “This is very unbecoming.”

“I miss you, you grumpy cabbage,” Magnus grinned and gave him one last squeeze. “Why are you my Ghost of Christmas Past?”

“Because apparently you've forgotten the lessons you so painfully learned.”

“And what lessons might those be?”

Ragnor raised his eyebrows and beckoned him to follow, opening the door of the parour they had been in to the dining room. There in front of them, was himself - exactly as he had been, beautifully brocaded frock coat and laced cravat, rubies in his ear. His hair was parted low on one side and swept over with waved ends and he looked thoroughly, utterly miserable.

The explanation for his misery sat opposite, drinking blood from a wine glass.

The Magnus of the present turned to Ragnor. “Really?” he asked. “If we’re going to remind me of all my terrible love choices, could we not have gone with something a little less… vicious?”

Ragnor nudged him. “Shut up, Magnus. Just watch.” Magnus sighed and went back to observing himself and Camille.

“I was thinking perhaps we could take in a ballet. Or the theatre. Something festive for New Year’s.”

“Mmm,” Camille replied noncommittally, running a finger round the edge of her wine glass, not raising her gaze. “Could we not do something a little more exciting, darling? One does get so tired of the same faces at this time of year.”

“Perhaps a trip, then?” Magnus rose and held out his hand towards her and after a moment she acquiesced with a small sigh, rising to her feet gracefully and taking his hand, although she dropped it before they got to the settee. She tucked herself into the corner and ignored him in favour of inspecting her shoes.

“A trip? Well, I do so like to travel. New places, new people…”

“New opportunities for presents,” Magnus teased her and snapped a wrapped thin box into his hands.

Camille finally looked up and squealed, becoming the most animated she’d been. She held out her hand palm up. “Magnus! You shouldn’t have. We said we weren’t doing anything this year.”

“I know, my dove, but I do like to spoil you. And I know how much you had your eye on this.” Camille graced him with one of her wide smiles as Magnus handed her the box.

A stunning array of emeralds greeted her when she opened the box, tearing the wrapping greedily and then cooing at the contents. “Oh, Magnus.”

“Green to match your eyes. May I?” Magnus leaned over and delicately took the necklace from the box while Camille turned her back to him and smoothed her long hair off the nape of her neck, moving the heavy mass out of the way. Magnus secured the necklace around her and trailed his fingertips through the silky strands as he gently pulled her hair back into place, fingers curling through her ringlets.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Magnus, I haven’t even turned around yet.”

“I know you’re beautiful, my love.”

Camille laughed, that high tinkling laugh that now set his teeth on edge and finally rose, turning around. She was a vision, her hair half piled high on top of her head and ringlets curling down her back, her eyes clear and painted colour high on her cheeks. The low neckline of her burgundy dress perfectly complemented her pale shoulders, bare and glowing in the light of the fire. The emeralds sparkled and her green eyes shone.

Magnus leaned towards her, expecting a kiss. Camille ducked away from his embrace and ran straight to the mirror, laughing again when she saw herself, turning this way and that to catch the light in her new gems.

“Oh, we must go out!” she exclaimed. Magnus trailed after her.

“Camille, it’s Christmas Day.”

“Yes, which means there’ll be a party somewhere. Oh, honestly Magnus, stop being such a bore. I want to go out!” She ignored him and went to ring the bell for her maid.

“I thought,” Magnus started, his voice sounding hesitant. “I thought we could just spend tonight with the two of us. Have a romantic evening.”

From this angle, the Magnus of the present could see Camille’s mouth thin and her nostrils flare, before she put on a beseeching expression and turned back around.  

“Oh my love,” she cooed again, her voice soft and wheedling. “But you’ve given me such a lovely surprise gift, how can I not want to go show it off? To show everyone how much you love me? You know how I enjoy making all those miserable people jealous of what we have.” She pressed her lips to Magnus’ cheek, taking his hands in hers.

“Just this once, Magnus, please? We’ll be home well before dawn and can spend the whole day in bed tomorrow, just you and I. I’ll wear nothing but this wonderful necklace.” She kissed under his ear and Magnus made a content noise.

“How can I ever say no to you?”

“I don’t think I ever want you to try,” she giggled and then clapped her hands with joy before turning away from him yet again.

“That’s quite enough of that,” harrumphed Ragnor and he waved his hands, the scene in front of them fading.

“And your point is?” Magnus drawled, surprised at how little seeing that memory again hurt. “I was content once upon a time to spend the rest of my immortal life with one person. My choice of person was not the greatest. I am well aware that Alexander is not Camille.”

“But he could be,” Ragnor said and Magnus looked at him in surprise.

“Do you really think so?”

“Immortality changes us, old friend. Love no longer seems so important if you know it is eternal.”

Magnus frowned. “You told me to chase love! And hold on to it!”

“When I felt you closing yourself off to even trying,” Ragnor countered. “You put everything into making Camille’s life happy with scant thought for yourself. I don’t want you going down that road again.”

He shook his head, wondering where this was coming from. “Camille and I had very different views on love. Yes, she and I were happy - for a long time. But it became a lie. I don’t think the same thing would happen.”

Ragnor spread his hands in the universal sign for ‘maybe’ and sat back down, crossing his legs. “Forever is a long time. How can you be so sure you won’t tire of him, or he of you?”

Magnus started to follow him but stopped still at his words. His hand flew up to grasp at his chest, trying to soothe the sharp pain that ran through him.

“I… I can’t.” Magnus licked his mouth, feeling suddenly faint. “I don’t know if he’d stay with me.”

“Are you so willing to risk your eternal happiness on someone you can’t trust to be there for you forever?” asked Ragnor, arching his eyebrows. “I’m trying to protect you, Magnus. So that you protect your own heart. Grieving and loving again is more healthy than losing your love and wallowing until the end of time.”

“I’d like to avoid both,” Magnus said sharply. “He married me. There was an oath. ‘Til death separates us.” And Alexander would never go against his word, he reminded himself forcefully. Magnus could always trust in him.

“So you think the only thing keeping him with you would be his oath? Aren’t you worried he’d come to resent you, Magnus?” Ragnor voiced Magnus’ greatest fear, and Magnus loved him for it. Wanted to kick him at the same time, but still loved him for his honesty.

“I disagree,” came a new voice. “If anyone could make eternity work I would have said it would be Magnus and his Shadowhunter love.”

Magnus startled and turned, his eyes widening at who he saw. “Dot!” He rushed over and embraced her. “Dorothea, my wonder! I miss you. So, so much.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she told him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Ignore grumpy here.” Ragnor made an offended noise.

“Come with me. I’m here to show you why this is a truly blessed gift, Magnus.” Magnus stepped forward to join her, but then looked back at Ragnor. He darted back to embrace him one last time, pressing a kiss to his forehead as Ragnor swatted him away.

“Goodbye, old friend. May we meet again.”

“Stop pressing your lipstick all over me.” Ragnor pushed him away but a small smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You may call upon me at any time.”

“Thank you, my dear cabbage.”

“I might not answer, but you can call.”

Magnus was still laughing as Ragnor faded away.

“Well,” Dot said brightly. “Let’s put all of that negative nonsense to bed, shall we?” And she took Magnus by the hand and stepped forward.

Chapter 3: Present

“You can’t let your past dictate your future,” Dot reminded him as she guided him through what looked like a nicely upmarket fitting room.

“How many Warlocks do you know that are in blissful immortal relationships?” he asked her.

“Ok, fair, they’re rare. But if you were willing to marry Alec, with no guarantee that either he or you would stay together even over 50 years, then why can’t you have faith in your love for longer?”

He fell silent, thinking that over. Dot lead him into the bright lights of a store that he instantly recognised as the men’s section of Bergdorf Goodman. Magnus looked around, surprised. A few yards away he spotted a familiar head of hair, easy to see as Alec was so tall. Magnus’ face brightened instantly and he instinctively began to move towards him.

“He can’t see you,” Dot said, linking her arm with his and stopping him short. “We’re not really here, remember?”

“Do I have to just watch again?” Magnus asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance from his voice. He wanted Alexander - to hold him and talk to him and look into his eyes to find the answers he so desperately needed.

“What we share with those who’ve known us the longest - when we know they won’t hesitate to call us on our lies to ourselves - that’s a gift to be able to overhear.” Dot gave him a knowing look. “Like you’ve not wanted to know how Alec talks about you behind your back.”

“I haven’t,” Magnus protested, and then realised that it was true. He’d never wanted to know how Alec spoke about him, simply because he trusted Alec to be honest with him first.

“Well maybe that’s a lesson in itself,” Dot chided him and drew them closer as the siblings shopped.

“Why didn’t you do this earlier? This is pretty last minute, Alec.”

“It’s not like Alicante is teeming with stores like this, Iz. This is Spring Versace.” Alec shook the sleeve of the shirt for emphasis.

“Ok, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Isabelle grinned and nudged him with her shoulder while Alec blushed and went back to looking on the rack.

“It’s important to Magnus. Therefore it’s important to me,” he mumbled while she cooed.

“Oh, shut up.” Alec rolled his eyes and pulled out an artfully ripped sweater in an alarming shade of crocus.

“No, brother dear.” Izzy calmly steered his hand to place it back on the rack and Magnus thanked her silently. “Definitely not. Anyway, I think it’s very sweet. Simon. Well, Simon isn’t exactly high fashion.”

Alec’s face took on that mixture of fascinated horror that appeared whenever Simon was mentioned in front of him. “Is, um. Is everything alright with you two?” Magnus could see the internal war inside Alec as he waited for the answer.

“Honestly? Yes. It’s wonderful. Amazing, even. He’s sweet and kind and funny and he loves me. He’s really good for me.”

Alec’s shoulders relaxed a notch. “Why is there a ‘but’ about to happen?”

“I want kids,” Izzy burst out and promptly looked horrified. Alec dropped the shirt he was holding and wheeled around to stare at his sister.

“What?!”

“Not right now,” she hastily reassured him. “But. Someday. I want a family.”

“He’s a vampire.” Magnus rolled his eyes. Well done to Alec for pointing out the obvious.

“Yes Alec, we’re aware of that.” Izzy mirrored Magnus and rolled her own eyes. She brushed her hair out of her face and concentrated on a pile of soft silk scarves. “We’re trying to find a way around this.”

“Izzy, don’t you dare think about taking the bite. Don’t you-“ Izzy stopped him by placing her hand firmly against his chest.

“Don’t be an idiot. We’re trying to find a way to make Simon mortal again, obviously.” Magnus’ eyebrows shot up when he heard that. Oh, well done, Isabelle. If anyone had the determination to make that happen, it was her.

“Angel above, Iz. Is that even possible?”

Her mouth set in a determined line. “I’m going to find a way, Alec.” He blinked at her and then Alec’s face softened in acquiescence and he nodded, turning back to the clothing. He browsed the rack for a minute in silence, rolling his lips together to try to hide a smile. Magnus watched as Alec cleared his throat.

“But does it have to be Simon? Really?”

“Oh, you dick!” Izzy smacked him hard on the arm as Alec burst out laughing and then held his hands up in surrender.

“I’m kidding! Well, mostly. Izzy stop hitting me!”

Izzy flicked her hair back and visibly shook off her indignance, the corners of her mouth trying to curl as she fought a smile.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want kids?”

“We try for them nightly,” Alec said dryly and Magnus burst out laughing, echoed by Dot next to him.

“You’ve had an influence,” she murmured to Magnus and he smiled at her.

“Alec!” Izzy swatted him again. “Be serious. There’s nothing stopping you. There’s always children, warlock kids or orphaned Nephilim that need parents.”

“We have the same issue as you two, I guess.” Alec was concentrating too hard on the print on a very nice shirt, and Magnus realised he was gripping Dot’s hand. He grimaced in apology and let her go. She softly smiled at him and took his hand again, and his heart ached with missing her.

“Magnus is immortal and I’m not. It makes it harder, I guess. He’ll outlive any mortal children we could have.”

“Would you want him to be mortal?” Izzy stepped closer and put her hand comfortingly in his forearm, forcing him to turn to face her. Magnus held his breath.

“No,” Alec shook his head. “Raziel, no. We went through that and it’s not. Just no. I want him to live.”

Magnus breathed again.

“Would you... want to be immortal?”

“I.” Alec blew out his cheeks and shifted his weight on his feet, avoiding her gaze and Magnus leaned forward.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane, you answer me right now!” Izzy hissed and jerked his arm sharply.

“Ow, Iz, yes, yes , ok? If I could. I don’t want to leave him. I want a family and I want him and I want to see more of the world, his world. God, Izzy, I love him. And there’s so much to him and so much I want to experience with him and I’m not sure one lifetime is enough. Yes, ok? If it was possible, I’d want to be with him forever. But it’s not possible. And so I don’t allow myself to think about it.” Alec closed his eyes as if in pain and Magnus became aware of a keening noise. He looked around for the source and realised it was coming from him.

“Dot,” he whispered. “Dorothea, why are you showing me this?”

“Because you need to know. It’s only your own fears from stopping your happiness.”

“You’d be ok with not aging? All of us dying?” Izzy gestured to herself, sounding more curious than annoyed.

“Iz, I’m going to have to watch you die anyway. Or I’ll die first, whatever, but. Me not dying won’t make a difference to my family and most of the people I love being mortal.”

Alec sounded so practical. Magnus frowned. There was a difference to knowing everyone around you was going to die and being forced to live through it and live on without them.

“Even if you do have kids? Alec, you went crazy when Max was injured.” Izzy sounded as sceptical as Magnus felt.

“It was my fault.” Alec set his jaw and met Izzy’s eyes again. “Max nearly dying… that was my fault, Izzy. I should never have trusted Jonathan.” Magnus ached to touch him.

“How could you know?” Izzy demanded softly, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “He was wearing a different face. And I vouched for him. I was the one who brought him in.”

“He was going to come to the Institute anyway,” Alec pointed out and Izzy rolled her eyes again.

“Yeah, and even if you hadn’t shoved him on security he probably would have hurt Max. So if you can cut me some slack, you can do the same for you, big brother.”

Alec finally smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. Alright!” he protested when she poked him as well for good measure.

“Can we please get back to picking out the last of my husband’s presents?” he asked, turning back to the clothing. “Now, he’s often mentioned someone Cavelli. Cavalli? Does that mean anything to you?”

“I’m gonna get you a subscription to Vogue,” Izzy threatened under her breath and grabbed Alec’s arm to steer him to a different section. Magnus wanted to get in their way, to demand Alec answer her about how he’d feel watching his mortal children age and die. To ask how Magnus could possibly deal with that, even with Alec at his side, because Magnus couldn’t even fathom living through that.

Instead, he looked back at Dot, feeling lost. She tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic look.

“It’s alright Magnus. You’ll see. He loves you beyond anything and the two of you are stronger together. This is what you’ve always wanted. Someone who challenges you, and supports you and will explore with you - by your side, forever. I wanted to give you that, but I wasn’t the right person.”

“Dot -” he started to say, intent on preventing her from any self-deprecating sentences, but she shushed him with one finger and then smiled.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. I had a wonderful life, and I’m more than happy with the time I had and my choices. My purpose here is to help you do the same - and not regret for the rest of your life.”

“What if Alec regrets it for the rest of his life, Dot?”

“I’m not saying it’s easy being immortal. I’m not saying there won’t be times where he has to be reminded about perspective and priorities and all the things he takes for granted being mortal. But I don’t think for one second he’ll regret living for you, Magnus. Not one second.”

“You two are sickeningly in love,” a new voice chimed in and Magnus jumped, whirling around to look at the newcomer. She looked... familiar but not - a tall woman with a well-shaped afro. He squinted at her and she laughed, putting her hand up to her throat. A moment before she pulled the scarf off, he knew.

“Sweetpea!” he exclaimed, and she flew into his arms, still laughing.

“Definitely too big for you to pick up, Magnus,” she told him. “Time for you to say goodbye and come with me.”

He untangled himself from her embrace and enveloped Dot instead, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Goodbye darling Dorothea. I hope you rest well and that I see you again one day.”

“Never stop fighting for love, Magnus.” She squeezed his hand and kissed him back. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he whispered as Madzie grabbed his hand and began to pull him away. Dot waved goodbye and faded from sight, so he turned back to Madzie, who led him… right to the front door of their loft.  

Chapter 4: Future

“So I’m your ghost of Christmas future, yeah? What I’m going to show you isn’t set in stone. But it is what your path is right now, where Alec remains mortal. Don’t worry, you’ll forget the specifics when you wake up, time travel’s a bitch on free will.”

“Language,” Magnus said automatically and then covered his mouth. Madzie laughed, bright and sudden.

“Yeah, you don’t shake that particular instinct for about another seventy years.”

“Well that’s just embarrassing.”

“Hazard of immortality. Max has it way worse.”

“Max? Why?”

Madzie’s eyes went wide and she gestured hurriedly. “Oh, not Uncle Max. Um, other Max. Baby Max. Ah, fuck it, just look.” She swirled her hand in front of her and the door opens to reveal what looked like a very chaotic Christmas.

Two dark-haired children ran past Magnus giggling as he walked into the living room, followed by an older, red-headed teenager.

“I swear to Raziel, if you two don’t stop running round, I’m telling Uncle Magnus that you broke the vase at Thanksgiving.” The two kids screeched to a halt and slunk back around the corner the way they came before bursting out into laughter and running off again. The girl - Magnus assumed Clary and Jace’s kid, grimaced and made throttling motions with her hands, before an older looking Isabelle, her hair shorter than Magnus had ever seen it, walked into the room.

“If you want to swipe a glass of wine I promise to look the other way,” she told the teen solemnly. “I often tell Simon that the twins are the reason we get through so many bottles every week.”

“It’s ok, Auntie Iz. They’re just hopped up on sugar and also the living incarnation of Satan,” the girl said, yelling the last part of that sentence in the direction of the twins.

“It looks like someone needs a very diluted mimosa,” came Magnus’ own voice, and then his future-self swanned into the room, his hair longer and pinned up in an elaborate fashion. He snapped his fingers and handed a glass that looked like it was mostly peach juice over to the teenager and then promptly summoned a bottle of champagne and two glasses and handed one to Isabelle. She fell upon it gratefully.

“Celine, you’re doing a marvellous job keeping them in line,” Magnus continued and gestured to the couch for them to sit.

Celine shook her head. “It’s ok, Magnus. I need to make sure they’re not trying to get Max to turn them into something weird. But I think Hannah could probably use one of these as well.” Magnus watched himself hand over another mimosa.

“It’s ok, I don’t think Max has quite mastered that trick yet.”

“It doesn’t seem to stop them all from trying,” Celine replied dryly and wandered off in search of the kids and this mysterious Max.

“So how much of our home do Izzy’s children destroy?” Magnus asked Madzie who was still standing next to him.

“So, so much,” she said without a hint of teasing. “You keep saying they remind you of Clary, given that the Herondale children all seem to actually respect rules.”

“I’m sure Biscuit and Blondie just love that.”

“They settle down a lot,” Madzie told him with a small smile. “Alec asked them to train Shadowhunters. Clary specialised in improvised weaponry and tactics.”

Magnus threw his head back to laugh. “That would definitely suit her.”

The front door opened behind them and a silver-haired Maryse and Luke arrived carrying bags overflowing with gifts.

“Where are my grandkids?” Maryse called and suddenly the entire loft swarmed with children of varying ages, all crowding round them for hugs and all chattering at them. Magnus moved out of the way of them, mildly alarmed, as his future self simply conjured another table and more champagne.

“Reinforcements,” sighed future-Magnus and Izzy together.

More noise as Clary, Jace and Simon spilled out of the kitchen to greet them, and Magnus turned to look at Madzie when he noticed the runes on Simon.

“The Mortal Cup,” Madzie told him. “Isabelle said she’d find a way and she did.”

“That’s amazing,” Magnus said, so happy for them. And then he looked up as his husband, temples flecked with grey, came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, followed by an unknown Nephilim teenager. Alec looked as beautiful as ever, more lines round his eyes but still full of the brightness of soul that had drawn Magnus to him in the first place.

“Papa,” the boy said, and Magnus watched to see which adult turned around. He looked Hispanic and spoke with a slight accent. He must be an orphan taken in by one of them, he assumed. Magnus admired his dark painted nails. Bold, for a Nephilim. Probably Izzy’s child.

His future self turned. “Yes, Raf?”

Everything inside Magnus stopped. He felt frozen, blinking rapidly to try to work out what was happening.

The youngest child broke away from the crowd by the door and ran back to Alec who dropped and swung him up into his arms.

“Daddy, can we open our gifts from Grandma and Grandpops?”

“Of course you can, Max,” Alec said as he bopped the boy on his horns, the boy flaring a bright blue as his glamour dropped and Magnus clutched at the wall behind him.

“Papa, presents!” The child cried out victoriously at future-Magnus, who was deep in conversation with Raf.

“What.” Magnus said faintly. “What.”

“Breathe, Magnus.” Madzie said, not unkindly. “Did you not think that this was a possibility?”

Magnus shook his head, avidly watching the scene in front of him as if he could commit it to memory. "We have sons. We have sons." The Clave had allowed them to adopt a Nephilim, for Raziel's sake. And a Warlock. And everyone was acting as if this was normal.

Raf held his arms out for Max and Max jumped down from Alec’s embrace and ran to his brother. “C’mon Max. We’ll put the presents under the tree and you can make sure everyone has one and then we can open them together.”

Alec looked approvingly at Raf’s words and dropped a kiss to the top of his head as he joined them, casually slinging his arm around Magnus as if this was a everyday occurrence. Them, and their kids. Their family .

Magnus let out an astonished wheeze while Madzie patted his arm in consolation, looking highly amused.

“Rafael’s finished basting the turkey and it will be about an hour,” Alec said as the boys ran off to drag Maryse and Luke into the living room, both of them stopping to kiss Magnus and Alec. “So we have time for presents and then everyone has to wash their hands.”

“Yes dad,” Clary said impishly as she moved past them and Alec stuck his tongue out at her which she immediately returned, both of them smiling at each other in a way that would be impossible in the present.

“This feels like the Twilight Zone,” Magnus said, looking at Madzie with wide eyes.

“Clary and Alec get really, really close after Max - Lightwood Max, not Lightwood-Bane Max - nearly dies. Again.”

“What happened?”

“He was defending the LA Institute. You and Alec are very popular but there’s a small faction of the Downworld and the Nephilim that really don’t like the two of you together. Call you race traitors. They went after Alec’s family. Alec of course blamed himself, because he always does. But Clary actually did kill her brother. They weirdly bond and I think she helped him to see it wasn’t his fault.”

“But he’s ok?”

“Yeah. He’s not here this year because he and his wife are on duty.”

Magnus nodded, still watching everyone settle down around the Christmas tree, ripping into presents - or in his and Alec’s case, taking the opportunity to make out behind an open book Magnus held up in front of their faces.

“Ewwwwww,” chorused Raf, Celine and Hannah while the adults laughed, Jace throwing a wadded up ball of wrapping paper at them.

“That’s enough, you two.”

“We’re missing date night tonight,” protested future-Magnus, flicking the ball away with magic towards Max, who did the same thing back at him, making it smack against Magnus’ forehead with a giggle.

Magnus drew in a sharp breath. “Please tell me I’m the cool dad.”

Madzie laughed and shook her head. “Actually you’re the over-protective one. Alec lets them run wilder than you’d prefer. But then he’d been holding a sword since the age of six, so it’s understandable he sees nothing wrong with them going on adventures. You just want your boys around you. It’s sweet, Magnus. They loved you both so much.”

“I hate that you keep using the past tense.”

“I can only show you the future I know.” Madzie tugged on his sleeve. “We have to move on, Magnus.”

“But I don’t want to go. I want to see how the lunch turns out.”

“Raf’s a great cook. But that’s not why we’re here and you know it.” She made a circling motion with her fingers and the scene in front of them sped up so that Magnus could only see flashes of life in the loft. Him and Alec holding a baby with a proud Rafael beside them. Another family Christmas with more young children, streaks of grey in Isabelle’s hair. A soft morning for just him and Alec, a cane nearby, Alec writing furiously on a tablet and Magnus reading.

The scenery around them changed. A sombre crowd in white inside the main hall in Alicante, Clary’s faded head bowed with sobs. Their bedroom with Alec, thin and asleep with Magnus reading aloud next to him, stealing glances at his husband. Magnus in the same position, staring bleakly at an empty, neatly-made bed, with his book fallen to the floor.

“No,” he whispered, clutching at Madzie’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut so hard it hurt. “I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to know.”

“You have to face this, Magnus. You have to know why the Angels gave you this gift.” Madzie’s voice was firm but full of sympathy. She motioned again and the scenes continued.

He saw himself surrounded by his family, Raf older now while Max looked young still, faces drawn and sad. Then a new apartment, somewhere sunnier than Alicante, Madzie and Max and Rafe hanging pictures. A dinner with young people whose faces contained echoes of Magnus’ present. Another white funeral, Max propping up a grieving Magnus. Raf, Magnus guessed, his stomach churning. Then another new place, smaller, darker. Magnus in a bar, at first alone, then with Catarina, then with strangers. Never the same face twice. Max and Madzie again, arguing with Magnus in what looked like a study. Madzie again, alone this time. Then Catarina again. Then Magnus alone, staring out the window, his back to them as they watched. Fire messages came and there were sharp raps on the door, but he remained alone.

The image didn’t change and he tore himself away from the pathetic view in front of him and turned back to Madzie.

“What are you telling me, Sweet Pea? That losing people hurts? I know that one. That’s not a good reason to irrevocably change someone's life.” He tried to sound dismissive but his hands trembled by his side and he clasped them together before Madzie could see.

“We all know that, Magnus.” She fixed him with her gaze. “The Downworld and the Shadowhunters - we worked in harmony for a long long time. You and Alec were figureheads - the leaders, there to calm things down when tensions rose, there to fight for what was right and fair, not what was based on tradition. And with Alec gone… you locked yourself away from everyone. Even with darkness coming. You tried for a while. For Max. For us. But....” she trailed off and bit her lip.

“What, Sweetpea? You can tell me.”

“You became what you always feared - alone and untouched by anything. You simply faded.”

“No,” Magnus whispered, shaking his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I haven’t before.”

“You deserve so much happiness, Magnus. You deserve to be in the world. But it’s like you decided the world wasn’t worth it if Alec’s not with you. And our world needs you, Magnus.”  

“That’s still not a reason to ask him to stay with me!” Magnus cried. “I want him to be with me because he wants to, not because without him I give up!”

“How are you going to know that if you don’t ask him?” Madzie shot back, folding her arms and looking unerringly like Catarina.  

Magnus opened his mouth to answer her and realised he had nothing. He looked at her, shocked, his mouth hanging open.

“Well, damn,” he finally managed, completely taken aback at how well he’d been played. “I’m going to have to ask him, aren’t I? It’s the only thing I can do.”

Madzie broke into a huge smile, her eyes alight with happiness. “You’ve always told me to fight for the future that I wanted, Magnus. Finally you’re taking your own advice.”

Chapter 5: Christmas Day

Magnus woke up when the bed dipped, and opened his eyes to the wondrous sight of Alexander crawling into bed with him.

“Mmmmm, what time is it?”

“Nearly midday. You’re sleeping Christmas away.”

“Merry Christmas,” Magnus yawned sleepily and pulled Alec closer, burying his nose in his neck. “Brr, you’re all cold.”

“Yes, it’s December,” Alec replied dryly, and then started to laugh as Magnus began to tug off his clothes.

“That’s not going to help me warm up.”

“Oh no?” Magnus grinned, and kissed him thoroughly. “Challenge accepted.” He proceeded to demonstrate exactly how wrong Alec was about that, kissing every patch of cold skin revealed until Alec’s fingers were twisting in his hair and begging Magnus in a broken voice. He drew him into his mouth, only stopping when Alec was a spent sweaty mess, panting against the sheets.

Magnus flopped back onto the bed and stretched lazily, looking smug.

“Yeah, okay,” Alec said in a dazed voice. “Merry Christmas.” Magnus laughed and curled around him, watching with fondness as Alec’s eyelids drooped until he was sure Alec was asleep.

Then he got up and made breakfast. Well, summoned brunch. There was a lightness to him now, his decision made. He could only remember parts of his dream, the love of his friends filling him with a buoyant warmth, the sheer delight at the possibility of having a future together. A long future.

He could recall enough to know that he had to ask Alec. Ask him if he’d stay with him. It was Alec’s choice, and while everything inside Magnus twisted at the thought Alec would say no, somehow he knew that Alec wouldn’t.

It was a feeling that made him merrier than usual over brunch once Alec woke up again, pulling him into the living room and dancing with him to old Rat Pack Christmas Songs as Alec laughed and stumbled over his own feet.

“I missed you,” Magnus told him and Alec rolled his eyes but smiled.

“I was gone for a night.”

“Still missed you.”

And then there were presents and a perfect Cavalli jacket Magnus assumed Izzy had picked out, even if Alec assured him he had seen it first and she’d only approved, and a little later Magnus conjured a traditional Christmas feast for the both of them and got Alec quite tipsy on a delightful Cabernet.

In the dwindling light, as the glow of Alicante grew outside their window, Magnus summoned a fire and a large, fluffy sheepskin run big enough for the two of them in front of it and beckoned Alec closer, his nerves growing.

Alec went willingly and wrapped his arms loosely around Magnus’ waist, pressing a kiss to his lips and then leaning back for what Magnus presumed was a longer kiss, but Magnus stopped him. Alec looked confused and drew back.

“Magnus? What is it?”

Magnus cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "So I have one final gift. But I don't want you to think it's just for you. This is the most selfish gift I can give.”

Alec raised an eyebrow and threw a pointed - and unimpressed, which Magnus would take a moment to be unhappy about later - glance at Magnus’ crotch. He swatted him on the arm.

“Hush, this is serious.“

“The king-size fur rug suggests otherwise, Magnus.”

“Will you please let me talk?” Magnus huffed at Alec and felt better when he’d settled down and schooled his face into a least a facade of listening, taking Magnus’ hand in his own.

“Yesterday I saw an Angel,” Magnus started and then winced when Alec narrowed his eyes at him. He held up two fingers in front of Alec’s mouth. “No, I don’t mean - that’s not a weird pick up line or that I saw someone beautiful, I mean. Literally. The Archangel Michael was over Lake Lyn.”

Alec’s eyes widened and he grabbed Magnus by the shoulders, looking panicked. “Are you ok? What did he want? What’s coming? Do I need to get Jia?”

“No, no…” Magnus sighed. He was doing this all wrong. “Nothing’s wrong. He gave me a gift - a reward. For my closing the rift from Edom.”

Alec’s eyebrows drew together. “But that was ages ago.”

“I know. I’m very aware that this gift most likely benefits them in some way as well. But. I can’t ignore it.”

“What the hell is this gift, Magnus?” He was getting impatient; Magnus could tell by the ticking muscle in his jaw and he instinctively cupped Alec’s face to soothe him. His stomach flipped over and he forced himself to state it plainly.

“He gave me… he gave me a chance to make you immortal. To live forever. With me. If you’d want that.”

Alec inhaled swiftly, looking blindsided, while Magnus searched his face for some indication of emotion other than shock.

“What?” Alec asked faintly, his hand rising to grip Magnus’ wrist. “Wait, say that again.”

“Michael gave me a way that I can bind my life with yours. It would make you immortal. But we have to perform the ritual by midnight tonight.”

Alec remained silent, his eyes flickering over Magnus’ face as if he was expecting Magnus to start laughing and tell him he was just kidding. Magnus’ heart sank.

“Alexander?” Magnus prompted. “Please say something.”

“Is that… no, wait, why would they do that? What do they want in return?”

Magnus frowned. That certainly wasn’t what Alec was originally going to ask. “I don’t know, but it’s safe to assume they’ll have a use for you or us in the future.” He thought about mentioning his dream again, but that on top of an angelic visitation was probably pushing it. And the way Alec was reacting… suddenly he was seized by the conviction that Alec would say no, that he’d rather be normal and mortal than be with Magnus and be seen as something different.

“Does that matter? I know you probably need time to think about it, or speak to your family. Or the Clave, they would probably have something to say about it. I can give you space if you need it -”

“Do you want this?” Alec asked abruptly and then winced, running his hand over his face. “I mean,” he continued in a softer voice, “is this what you want? I can understand if you don’t want an eternity with one person. Or - that’s probably presumptuous, right? That you would want to be with me forever even if I was immortal.”

Magnus all but melted, smoothing his arm around Alec’s neck and pressing close.

“Oh, Alexander. I meant it when I said this gift is a selfish one. I want you by my side for the rest of my life, not just the rest of your mortal one. You’re everything to me.”

“Are you sure? You can’t take it back.”

“Alexander.” Magnus was very firm as he looked up at Alec’s face, holding his worried look. “I can honestly say there is nothing I want more in this life than to have you in it for as long as I possibly can. I vowed to love you as long as I lived and I don’t think I can ever break that vow. It’s just not possible.”  

“Magnus,” Alec said, his mouth working but nothing else followed, his gaze flickering over Magnus’ face as if he was a puzzle to be solved.

“Live with me,” Magnus said in a low voice, just above a whisper, his hand tightening on Alec’s neck. He willed him to see how much Magnus wanted this, willed him to find it in his eyes. “ Live with me, Alexander. Please.”

“Yes,” Alec finally said, his voice like gravel. “God, Magnus, yes. Yes. Always. I mean it. You have no idea…” he trailed off and to Magnus’ horror, shaded his eyes and let out a shaky sob, rubbing his hand over his face to wipe away tears. He groped around blindly to find the arm of the couch and then slid onto it gratefully, burying his face in his hands. Magnus followed him, nervously twisting his rings around his fingers. Saying yes but then crying wasn’t the exact response he’d anticipated.

“Fuck,” Alec said shakily after a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Magnus, you have no idea how much I want this, do you?” He finally looked back up at Magnus, his eyes wet and bright, but - oh, but his smile was wide and breathtaking. Something inside Magnus loosened and relaxed as Alec spread his arms open, inviting Magnus over. He promptly sprawled himself on Alec’s lap, causing him to laugh, and wound his arms around Alec’s neck, his nails scratching at the soft skin at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “You’ve never told me. It always was an impossible dream, Alexander, one I still can’t quite believe has been simply given to us.” He bit his lip when Alec hugged him closer and buried his face into Magnus’ shoulder, his fingers stroking through his hair.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to try to talk me out of it with tales of what a burden immortality can be and how it changes your views on everything?” Alec responded, slightly muffled by Magnus’ cashmere.

Magnus suppressed a small grin and looked at the fire, feeling a certain sense of deja vu from his dream. “Well. Yes. Not talk you out of it, but definitely warn you. You have to know what you’re getting yourself into. Watching most people you love die. Having to continue on. Then there’s putting up with the rest of the immortals - you’ll be sick of us. Sick of me.”

“Never,” Alec said immediately, pulling himself back up. “Magnus, look at me.” Magnus reluctantly pulled his gaze from the flames back to Alec.

“Magnus, I could never get sick of you. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, sure. Sometimes I still don’t understand you. You’ve lived for centuries and I barely know you and at the same time, know you better than anyone that doesn’t share my soul.” Alec cradled Magnus’ face in his hands and brushed his thumb against his cheekbone, wiping away the tear Magnus hadn’t been aware of.

“I want to stay with you. I want to experience everything with you - yes, even the pain of loss, because we’ll at least be together for it. You make the dark days a little brighter, enough to get me through, and you make the ordinary days completely dazzling.”

Alec wasn’t helping to prevent Magnus from crying more, the reality of the gift finally crystalizing into something definitive in his mind.

“Really?” he asked again.

“Now and for all time,” Alec said solemnly, quoting the traditional Warlock wedding vows. Magnus made a small choked noise and buried his face in Alec’s neck, squeezing him tight. The impossible man who always continued to surprise him.  

“I love you,” he whispered into Alec’s skin, and could feel Alec’s smile.

“I love you too.” Alec kissed his forehead and then the side of his face, tracking down until he reached his lips, sharing the sweetest kiss with Magnus that he felt down to his toes.

“And we need to do this now, right?” Alec continued in a business-like tone when he pulled away. “Because I believe you and I have plans for that rug that might take longer than midnight.”

Magnus laughed and brushed at his eyes to wipe away his tears, clambering off Alec as he snapped his fingers for his bag. “We have instructions.” Alec made a pleased sound and started digging through the pouch, pulling out the necessary elements for the ritual.

Magnus caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and wheeled around, ready for anything, for Angels to try to retrieve the gift, anything at all - and only coming face to face with his reflection in the living room mirror.

But he wasn’t alone. Behind him were Ragnor and Dot and even Madzie, all smiling at him - or at least in Ragnor’s case, not scowling. Madzie gave him a thumbs up and Magnus laughed, looking over his shoulder at nothing, and then back at his friends in the reflection of the room.

When Magnus laughed, Alec looked up from arranging things on the coffee table.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Magnus said, turning back and smiling at Alexander, his soul soaring as he looked at the best decision he’d ever made, ready to start their eternal life together as soon as possible.

“I was just thinking we need a toast.” He summoned two glasses of champagne and handed one to Alec, clinking their glasses together and then reaching out for Alec’s hand, his heart brimming over with joy.

“Merry Christmas to all.” His gaze flicked back to his friends in the mirror’s reflection. “And to all, a good night.”

[queerturnofphrase]

— nikka ursula (n.t)

[vulcansmirk]

I’m in your orbit now. This revolution was inevitable, wasn’t it? How foolish of me to try to flee a singularity.

alucinor 4.17 (s.s.)

[vulcansmirk]

You smiled when you saw me. You sat with me all night and quietly let me into your mind. I found out that you’re the youngest of three, that you worry you can’t support people like you should, and that there’s a chance I can be for you what you have fast become for me— a comfort. You’ve never asked for comfort. You never ask for help. You told me flat-out that you believe in taking care of yourself only insofar as it equips you to keep fighting. I understand that belief more than I can say, and I love you for it, but it makes me sad, too. You’re fighting for a world in which everyone is free and happy. In your mind, does that world not include you?     (My world, at least, would be a much grimmer place without you.)     You told me all your heroes are people who’ve been jailed and killed fighting for what they believe. You said it scares your parents because they think that’s the best they can hope for for you. Here’s a secret: it scares me, too. And I will do everything I can for you to make sure this fight doesn’t kill you.     (See, all my heroes are people who’ve been jailed and killed fighting for what they love. I think it should scare my parents, because it’s the best thing I hope for for me. You fight for the world. I fight for you. You are my best-case scenario.)

alucinor 4.17 (s.s.)

[vulcansmirk]

They asked about black holes. They asked for an explanation, so I gave them one, best I could, the room swathed in an inky dark, the one light pouring over us like honey. I explained how black holes are so massive, so dense, so full that the natural gravity of everything inside pulls the universe inexorably closer. I explained all this with you right beside me, feet away— too far, but close enough for me to be caught in your gravity and pulled inexorably. I don’t smoke cigarettes. I try not to drink when I’m sad. But I’m addicted to the smell of you, and to the feeling of your mind sharing oxygen with mine. I’m hooked on the sound of your voice telling me to walk on your right as we pass these strangers in the dark. (When did you start taking care of me?) When did I start needing it?) They asked about black holes. They asked for an explanation, so I gave them one, best I could. And all the while, gravity and irony pulled me inexorably toward you.     It hurts, you know? I’m caught in the well of your warmth, and the way your eyes light up when you’re thinking. I’ve long since passed the event horizon; there’s no hope now for me to flee. All I can do is laugh and shake and drown in your singularity.

alucinor 5.17 (s.s.)

[vulcansmirk]

Later, I asked you if you trusted me. I laughed as I said it; I meant it as a joke, but you looked down, looked away, and quietly cracked open. ‘Do you trust me?’ I grinned. You looked down, looked away, and said, small, 'I do.’ And I cracked open, too.

alucinor 4.17 (s.s.)

[vulcansmirk]

I haven’t slept since I touched your hand, traced the marks on your knuckles like they were holy. The sun and I have been trying to read affection into glances neither stolen nor given away; the moon and I, in the after, have waned. They say this is natural, a process of ellipses and revolutions, and certainly, mine is a planetary life, half dark, half light, tilted just so, and constantly spinning. I think if I were a planet, I’d be fourth from the sun— close enough to imagine its warmth, bathe in the ghost of its light, but too far away to touch. And yet the textures of you, the smattering of places you allowed my aching hands to rest, stick in my skull like stars, scattered and unresolved into constellations. I want to connect the dots; I think I may recognize the shapes they make, the tales and the tensions that feed their form. The sky stretched between your fingers is familiar, like one I’ve seen my whole life, every sleepless night, while the moon hides her face and I await sunrise. Tell me now—is that gray on the horizon?

alucinor 11.16 (s.s.)

[vulcansmirk]

I’m caught in the well of your warmth, and the way your eyes light up when you’re thinking. And I can’t help it—looking at you, the warmth bursts from me, too, my skin cracking apart to release the light in my chest, my mouth shattering on a smile. There’s a secret star in me, and it’s ancient and enduring and named after you, and these days it’s so hard to keep the light from reaching you. (The thing is, in the light of this star, you shine a little brighter; you smile a little softer. And what the fuck is that supposed to mean to me if not everything?)

alucinor 5.17 (s.s.)