#i just took some digital crayons and made the curtains blue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malecsecretsanta · 5 years ago

Photo

Merry Christmas, @forensicsisabelle!

Dear giftee!

Hope this gift will give you a smile and a giggle over the festive period! Merry Christmas! <3

Read on AO3

******

There's Something Magical About Christmas!

Chapter 1 - Christmas Eve

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surely it couldn’t be time to rise and face the day already, Magnus thinks, burrowing deeper into the furry warmth of his husband’s comfy chest, stubbornly refusing to let the light stealing through the curtains rob him of his contented bliss.

The answering purr he feels beneath his cheek makes him smile though..

“You’re turning into Chairman, Alexander,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose at the delicate licks it’s now being treated to.

Muffled giggling has Magnus cranking one bleary eye open to see it was indeed the magnificent Meow providing him with a perfect pillow, while the highly amused trio of his nearest and dearest were huddled together on the other side of the bed, laughing at his expense.

Once again, Magnus silently congratulates himself for suggesting they all wear brand new festive pyjamas every year as a Lightwood-Bane family tradition, because seeing Reindeer Rafe, Mince Pie Max and Angel Alexander had already made his Christmas as far as Mistletoe Magnus was concerned.

A grin tugging at his lips, Magnus subjects all three of them to lazy tickles, reserving a nuzzle for the unimpressed pet, who promptly vacates the bed in a huff over all the jostling noise, the void quickly filled with eager bodies scooting closer to get their morning cuddles.

“Snuggles,�� declares their youngest, heaving a contented sigh when everyone’s limbs are entangled enough to barely allow any breath and his parents’ arms reach across to lock them in tight.

“How long have you three been awake?” Magnus rasps, dropping a kiss on the boys’ heads before crushing them briefly when his husband seeks one for himself.

Whispering into Rafe’s dark curls, Alec replies, “Someone forgot to turn their alarm off this morning and woke us up.” Hazel eyes peer mischievously at him through ridiculously long lashes. “Well, most of us.”

Magnus savours it, lips curling in tandem with his handsome husband’s as they patiently wait to give each other a proper kiss good morning.

“What can I say, family of mine?” he sighs, propping himself up on his elbow to see their faces better “Those of us not blessed with a Nephilim glow or the magic of youth, require all the help extra sleep can give.”

“As if,” snorts Alec, rolling his eyes in unison with their eldest, while big blue ones crinkle in delight at his papa’s silly words.

“I think you SPARKLE!” Max declares, his eager arms reaching to wrestle Magnus down for a flurry of loud, wet kisses to his face, both boys oblivious to the dopey smiles exchanged over their heads as they nestle deeper under the covers.

Hearing the mouthed words, “You’re beautiful,” because they’re voiced loud and clear on an almost daily basis by his very complimentary partner, Magnus absorbs all the affection in a languid state of happiness as he watches Alec rise to go make breakfast, asking over his shoulder what everyone wants to do today.

Everything from trips abroad to board games are discussed over the kitchen table as they wolf down Alec’s expertly-made crepes, but before they even have a chance to clear the dishes, an unwelcome security issue requiring Alec’s immediate attention threatens to breach their cheerful mood.

Rafe, proud of his dad’s position as the Head of the New York Institute and keen to take any opportunity to observe him in action, is the only one excited by the news.

“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” Rafe chirps, scrambling off the chair and running to get dressed without waiting for Alec’s permission to go with him.

With a fond shake of the head, Alec crouches next to where Max is now pouting on Magnus’ lap and takes his hand.

“I hate to leave, Max, but I’ll try and make it quick, then we’ll do whatever you boys want, ok?” Alec promises, kissing his 5-year-old’s button nose and getting rewarded with one back before going to change.

Determined to remain upbeat, Magnus suggests helping Max practice the magic trick he plans to use to impress their friends later, flicking his wrist to fill the loft with music from Max’s favourite Harry Potter film, trying and succeeding in bringing the joy back to his little one’s face.

By the time his angelic duo are ready to leave, everyone’s mood is restored, except Alec’s.

“Go do your job, Shadowhunter,” Magnus tells him between quick, chaste kisses that will have to do for now. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The lop-sided smile he receives makes the wait for their return much easier.

*********************************

Given the mutinous look on his 7-year-old’s face, Alec’s half-expecting his son to dig his heels in and refuse to leave his side while Underhill delivers his security report, but Rafe’s need to make his father proud of him overrides his annoyance at being temporarily dismissed and he trudges over to Aline without another word, letting her cajole him with offers of bo staff training and peppermint fudge until he caves with a dimpled grin.

“Thanks for offering to look after him, Aline. Appreciate it.”

A knowing smile accompanies her nod, and with a quick wave, she closes the door behind them.

“He’s a chip off the old block, you know,” says Underhill, eyes darting to the handful of papers at Alec’s elbow that Rafe had just been practicing his memos and perfecting his tricky signature on.

If it was what Rafe wanted, his son was going to head up his own institute one day, Alec was sure of it. Pride softened his voice. “Actually, I think he’s got a lot of Magnus in him too,” Alec replies, capping the embossed fountain pen Rafe had been using and twirling it in his hand. “I offered him crayons but apparently they’re not good enough for cursive writing.”

Underhill chuckles, taking a seat and opening the file. “He’s a credit to you both. Max too.”

Warmth fills Alec’s chest at those words. “Thank you. We’ve been very lucky.”

Clearing some space for them to study the data, Alec’s remembering the cleverly-timed kiss that allowed Magnus to persuade him to add some ‘yuletide joy’ to his austere surroundings, having to reign him in on the six-foot tree but unable to resist the fibre optic family-of-four snowmen sharing a rainbow scarf that stood beside a framed photo of them all.

The glamoured one secreted away in the bottom drawer of his desk, offering a digital slideshow of Magnus at his most alluring, was for his eyes only when he had to work late. That is a gift that truly keeps on giving.

A discreet cough brings him back to the present.

This time, warmth flooded Alec’s face. “Sorry. Shall we get started?”

Ever the gentleman, Underhill focuses on showing him their security status, assuring him that Keller, a specialist from the Tokyo Institute, would be a competent stand-in for himself when he took some long-overdue leave after Boxing Day.

Genuinely happy for the man who’d become a sympathetic friend over the last few years, Alec wishes Underhill good luck with his proposal plans, sure in the knowledge that Lorenzo will give him the answer he hoped for.

And equally sure they’ll be receiving an invitation, in portrait form, to the grandest wedding Spain will ever see.

Eager to retrieve his son and gather his family around him, Alec’s in the middle of locking drawers, switching off screens and filing the practice memos away for safe-keeping, when Rafe returns, sporting a megawatt smile as Aline and Helen regale Alec with how much progress the young Shadowhunter’s made with his posture and composure since he last visited.

Heart melting, Alec drops a kiss on Rafe’s head before giving him a piggyback and messages Magnus to say they’re ready to come home and need a portal, never more grateful for his favourite warlock’s pioneering ability than when it brings them all back together again.

“Will you both be on duty over Christmas?” Alec asks, once Rafe’s high-fived his chaperones goodbye.

“We are,” Helen replies, taking Aline’s hand and kissing it sweetly. “But we have each other for company while we do some heavy-duty…research.” The shared look between the girlfriends doesn’t escape Alec.

“Oh, research? Is that what we’re calling it now?” he teases as he heads for the portal that’s appeared behind him.

“We might even check the perimeter now and then,” Aline calls after him. “ I’ve heard it can be fun with the right company.”

Flipping them off behind his back, their laughter sends him home smiling and eager for a kiss from his husband.

*************************************

“Once more, my little blueberry. You’re so close, I can taste the cappuccino,” Magnus urges, heartsore about how defeated his little boy looks over the absence of lasting magic from his hands and wishing all the ley lines would converge beneath penthouse one to help Max complete his sorting spell.

The teary expression on Max’s face tells Magnus he’s not convinced he can do this.

With a soothing hand between shoulder blades stiff with tension, Magnus kneels down and cups his other one beneath both of Max’s which hold a small hill of coffee beans, and continues his encouragement. “Believe in your ability to do this, Max. Picture your magic roasting them, changing what the beans can do. Feel it in your gut and guide it to your fingertips, just like we talked about. Okay?”

Tilting his face up for a ‘positivity peck’ on the cheek, a more focused Max nods and prepares to try again, reciting the simple charm with more conviction than before.

Ready and waiting to provide a boost if needed, Magnus watches with incredible pride as the pale blue sparks don’t splutter and die, but grow stronger and brighter, rippling across the childish palms and engulfing the beans in a painless fire that ensures their new ability before clearing in a puff of white smoke.

Casting a quick reinforcement spell to preserve Max’s hard work, Magnus stores them in a sack stamped with the Hogwarts School emblem and flings his arms open for a hug, happy tears and giggles filling the room.

“Oh Max, you were wonderful!” Magnus tells him once they recover themselves, standing to swing the boy onto his hip. “Just wait until your dad and Rafe find out that you controlled your magic this time. Let alone see what we’ve done with the kitchen.”

Casting a critical eye over the lavishly-decorated roleplay cafe it had become thanks to both Max’s fertile imagination and his creative genius, Magnus has to admit he’s pleased with the results.

Shrugging his shoulders, Max is confident his father will love it. “This is fun. Dad said we could do what we wanted today.”

“He did indeed,” Magnus agrees, feeling warm and fuzzy about how, even at this tender age, Max is secure in the knowledge that his father will want to spend time having fun with him and his brother, because he loves them, and that Alec’s promises mean something.

Magnus wishes he’d known such certainty of affection growing up, been able to believe in the words spoken to him by the two men who’d held paternal roles in his life, but today was not to be spoiled with thoughts of fathers past, only enjoyed with a dearly beloved father of the present and the future. He’d found the perfect man to raise kids with.

One of many, many reasons he loves Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

“We have the stage, but not the costumes. Any thoughts?” Magnus asks, watching a slideshow of ideas come and go on Max’s face, giving it the serious consideration it deserves.

“Mmm, I want to be…..Draco. No! Dumbledore!” Bouncing with infectious excitement, Magnus needs both arms to contain his wannabe Albus, heading for the walk-in closet when a message from Alec comes through.

“Is that Dad? Are they coming back?” Max asks, crossing his fingers.

Magnus happily confirms that they are. “No time to waste,” he decides, magicking them both into costumes befitting their characters.

Max’s ecstatic smile, almost hidden by his new silvery beard, surely means Magnus chose wisely.

Activating the requested portal, they take up their positions just in time.

Gratifying gasps meet their ears when Alec and Rafe step through and spy their handiwork. Rafe takes in the bright red exterior framing the kitchen doorway as he slides to the floor, while Alec’s eyes rake over every inch of Magnus in his Lockhart finery, from his golden hair and make-up to the hem of his elaborately embroidered cape-coat.

“Papa, can I dress up too?” Rafe asks hopefully. “I want to be Ssssseverus Sssssnape!”

Dragging his eyes away from Alec’s frank appraisal, Magnus gives Rafe a thumbs up. “Certainly, ssssssunshine.” And with a flick of his wrist, Rafe becomes the head of Slytherin House.

Turning to Alec, Magnus issues a silent challenge to choose a character, lips quirking at the devilment he saw in those eyes. Watching the expressive slideshow of thoughts, an uncanny repeat of their youngest when he’s thinking, Magnus finds himself intrigued.

“How about Hag-?”

“No chance.”

“Alastor-”

“Nope.”

“Vol-”

“Don’t say his name!” exclaim the boys, pointing accusing fingers at their dad for forgetting.

Alec holds up his hands, suitably chastised, and turns a knowing smile on Magnus. “Let’s go with Sirius Black.”

“Excellent choice,” Magnus beams, all set to conjure the most raggedy and revealing prison clothes he could in the presence of the boys, when Alec spoils his fun with, “Minus the handcuffs.”

“As you wish,” he sighs, still creating a masterpiece with Alec’s velvet frock coat and fob chain, the false moustache and day-old stubble wreaking havoc with Magnus’ imagination until Max, equally resplendent in a silk robe and tasseled cap, clears his throat and lifts his arms.

“Welcome, Severus! Welcome, Sirius! This is the Elephant House coffee shop.” Pausing to check with Magnus that he’d said it correctly, Max continues. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?”

Bowing, Alec replies, “We’d be honoured, Professor,” causing Max to dissolve into giggles.

Rafe, however, staying wholly in character, gives his brother a dismissive look and strides inside, much to everyone’s amusement.

But before Magnus can follow them, Alec steals a surprise kiss as busy hands roam over the flowery cravat and waistcoat Magnus is wearing. Alec uses the voice usually reserved for the bedroom. “I just want to say that all of this works for me in ways it really shouldn’t.”

Similarly undone, Magnus tugs him even closer by his lapels. “Your whiskers have the same effect as my cat eyes, Alexander. You might have a hard time finding your razor from now on.”

The slow grin he receives is pure filth.

“Good to know.”

Magnus leaves him go with a grin of his own and shoos him inside the cafe.

Based mostly on Dumbledore’s office, the transformation looks amazing, if Magnus does say so himself. Bookshelves have replaced the cupboards, an ornate desk stands in lieu of the kitchen table, portrait paintings cover the walls and a grand chandelier graces the ceiling. In pride of place is a candle-lit lectern in the shape of an owl which holds a beautifully-styled coffee menu, next to which is a big wooden, globe-shaped drinks cabinet that houses a coffee machine with four spouts, each one forged into the head-shape of the animals representing the Hogwarts houses - a lion, a badger, an eagle and a serpent.

“You’ve outdone yourself in such a short space of time, Gilderoy,” Alec declares, taking in all the little details.

“‘Spooky how the time flies when one’s having fun,’” quotes Magnus, preening like a peacock at how thrilled everyone is with his efforts. “Care to take a taste test with our newly-qualified warlock-in-residence? Or am I spilling the beans too early, Max?”

Alec and Rafe turn to look expectantly at Max, who’s bubbling over with his need to share his news.

“I made magic coffee beans ALL BY MYSELF!“ he cries, quickly disappearing beneath a two-fold attack of bear hugs and congratulations that has Magnus joining in.

“What do I have to do to sample these special beans?” asks Alec, radiating with pride at his son’s first magical triumph.

“Sit and we’ll show you,” answers Max, fetching the sack of beans and opening it so his dad and brother could take one each, leaving his papa to explain the rest.

“These beans have been magically roasted by my good friend, Dumbledore, so that they’ll tell us which type of coffee you’ll enjoy drinking the most, based on the colour it leaves on your tongue when you chew it. Temporarily, of course.” Elegant hands draw their attention to each of the available beverages on the menu and their corresponding colour.

“Scarlet for a Grounded Gryffindor, yellow for a Hot Hufflepuff, blue for a Rich Ravenclaw and green for a Smooth Slytherin.”

“I love that,” Rafe chuckles.

“It’s actually really sweet,” Alec agrees, winking at a proud-as-punch Max.

“Now you can eat the bean,“ announces Magnus. “It tastes of Lucky Charms because Max wanted Rafe to like the taste.”

“Nice one,” Rafe says, high-fiving his little brother before popping the bean into his mouth. Alec followed suit.

When they reveal their matching green tongues, Rafe takes it to mean he’s definitely following in his father’s successful footsteps and glows as Max puts a goblet under the snake’s spout and pulls the spoon-shaped handle for the coffee to pour.

“Remember to put extra milk in Rafe’s goblet please, Max,” says Magnus, smirking at the eye roll this earns him from his offended son.

Moaning with pleasure over how satisfying his coffee tastes, Alec sets down his cup and draws them all in for a group hug.

“Gentlemen, you’ve just given me the perfect blend of family, fun and fantasy that I could ever hope to enjoy. Thank you.”

Forgiving his husband the terrible pun, Magnus knows he couldn’t agree more.

Chapter 2 - Christmas Day

***************************

“I think our presents were a success, Alexander. Would you agree?” asks Magnus as they attempt a waltz around the loft, but Alec’s trying to focus on avoiding all the trip hazards that litter the floor, such as Persian rugs, Chairman, randomly tossed cushions and the odd discarded toy.

“Uh, yeah. They seemed over the moon with them,” he smiles. Mostly, it’s relief at having just negotiated the coffee table without incident, but there’s also the memory of how elated the boys had been, despite the early hour.

Having arranged for their friends to visit them for a late breakfast, he and Magnus had decided to let the boys dive straight into opening their gifts after being rudely woken up with their ear-splitting cries of, ”Merry Christmas,” and clambered over by their reckless limbs. There’d been many to get through but, as always, their own special ones had been revealed in an unconventional way, as befitting his unconventional husband.

Already overjoyed with all the smaller items they’d been lucky enough to receive from their parents, the boys had been watching the film, Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory, a tradition they’d adopted ever since Max had discovered the scene where Violet Beauregarde turned into a giant blueberry, when Magnus had reminded them that their festive stockings hadn’t been emptied yet.

Suspicious but eager to seek out more possible rewards, both had taken the Wonka chocolate bars inside to be exactly that, until they’d removed the wrapping and discovered the golden tickets with news of their bespoke gifts written on them.

Private singing and dancing lessons for Rafe and a prominent pirate role in an upcoming blockbuster movie for Max, both courtesy of Magnus’ close personal friends, Beyonce and Baz.

Chairman was still recovering from the screams that had rocked the entire apartment, hence why he was nowhere to be seen now, despite the number of familiar faces that were here this afternoon. Though the volume in here could have something to do with it too.

In honour of one of their generous donors, the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack had been selected as something they could all dance to, and glancing around him, Alec thinks it’s an inspired choice. How else would he be able to bask in the timeless fun of seeing Simon lip-sync a love medley to his adoring boyfriend, with Raphael’s heart eyes in full effect whenever it’s his turn to join in, with gusto. Probably for her own protection, Madzie was out on the balcony learning how to cha-cha with Catarina, while Ragnor’s frequent offers to teach them the gavotte or the jive fell on purposely-deaf ears.

And then there was their precious sons, too busy eating the last of the penguin-shaped pretzels Catarina had brought to take an active part in the chaos, but cheering loudly from the sidelines in between bites.

Alec’s sigh is filled with bone-deep contentment. One Magnus recognises instantly, dipping him into a martini-flavoured kiss Alec never wants to end.

Alas, someone has other ideas.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake man, put him down. You still have guests, you know?” Ragnor chides as he passes by on the way to Magnus’ apothecary, port in one hand and shortbread in the other, having clearly taken the hint that his skills weren’t currently required.

“You’re just sour that I christened you after the Hufflepuff ghost on account of your tongue. ‘The Fat Friar’ actually suits you,” Magnus shoots back with a pointed look at Ragnor’s stash, claiming another kiss out of spite before restoring Alec to an upright position.

Far too soon, for Alec’s liking.

“At least you weren’t ‘The Bloody Baron,’ that was way too convenient, if you ask me,” Raphael chimes in, letting slip a private smirk when Simon questions the accuracy of having been dubbed ‘Nearly Headless Nick.’ “Close enough,” he replies, utterly deadpan.

“Well, I still think Tessa should’ve been here to claim the title of ‘The Grey Lady’ but I’ll take it with grace,” Catarina says, a breathless Madzie on her hip as she rejoins them from outside.

“On that ridiculous note, I will take my leave, and my surplus-to-requirement dancing skills, to the den next door, in peaceful tribute to the fantastical badger aligned to my Hufflepuff House,” declares Ragnor, taking three steps before jabbing a finger in Magnus and Alec’s direction. “And you, my boys, better not disturb me with your caterwauling when the final song comes on.”

“The Hogwarts School motto is ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon,’ my dear cabbage, so you’re quite safe,” Magnus counters, laser-quick, to a chorus of giggles and a solitary, unamused groan. “My work here is done,” his wicked husband chuckles, before declaring everyone needs refreshments ahead of the grand finale.

Watching him go, Alec thinks about how he’d never wanted to celebrate Christmas growing up in the stale environment of the Institute, but as with so many things, Alec had only known what he wanted since Magnus Bane had come along. The best gift Alec could’ve asked for.

***********************************

Sipping his cranberry margarita in the doorway of the balcony, Magnus takes a much-needed timeout from his duties as co-host for the evening and surveys the scene before him.

Thanks to everyone’s high spirits and all the party debris they’re accumulating, the loft is an absolute mess. Yet to Magnus, it’s never looked more perfect a home than it does in this moment.

Against a colourful backdrop of Christmas lights and mirror balls, family and friends are strewn across couches, rugs and cushions in varying states of sobriety, each one enjoying the company of those around them and managing to drown out the muted background music with their lively chatter and carefree laughter.

The now-familiar feeling of being home that Alec’s always given him, is only strengthened by the bonds that have been forged between their families, both biological and chosen.

A sigh escapes him as he imagines how different his life might have been had his mother lived, but there’s no other universe in which he sees himself being happier than he is here, with Alec and their sons. So he raises his glass in a silent toast to the mother whose loss he still feels to this day, and rejoins the party with a genuine smile for some of those people he’s happy to have found.

He’s barely taken two steps before an excitable Max is summoning him across the room to where Clary’s impressive face-painting skills are transforming his son into Frosty the Snowman, his beautiful horns, only unglamoured in the presence of those he trusts, just like his blue skin, have been turned into carrots and his blue hair is a riot of glitter and snowflakes. Conjuring a cashmere scarf to complete the look, Magnus takes a photo before messy hands have a chance to undo all the hard work.

“Just when I think you couldn’t look any cooler,“ Magnus quips, smitten with the groan and eye-roll combo that meets his embarrassing ‘dad’ joke. He still gets his cuddle though. “I think you both deserve a snow cone. Agreed?”

“Absolutely!” Clary chimes in. “But maybe make mine a little more Black Russian than blackcurrant, please?”

“Your wish is my command, biscuit,” Magnus replies, sweeping a bow as he delivers their rewards with a finger snap and giving them both a paternal pat on the head, moving on swiftly at Clary’s glare.

He spies Luke barely managing to hide his mirth over yet another argument between those notoriously fiery lovebirds known as Maia and Jace, unaware he now embodies the ‘jolly old elf’ on his gloriously ugly Christmas sweater, and decides to find out why.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks his friend, from a safe distance away. Then he overhears his hapless brother-in-law misquote Dickens’ famous introduction to A Tale of Two Cities in a bid to prove he knows his Shakespeare, and Magnus thinks he already knows the answer.

“Oh dear.”

“Yep, it’s that bad,” Luke confirms, shoulders shaking with the effort it’s costing him not to burst out laughing. “Nine months in and the boy still hasn’t learned there’s nothing that riles our well-read warrior more than the desecration of her favourite classics.”

“And compounding it by confusing the writers?” Magnus shudders. “I always knew his self-preservation skills were minimal, but she’ll tear him to shreds if he keeps this up.”

Luke swigs his beer and slaps a paw on Magnus’ shoulder. “Fifty says he’s sleeping on your couch tonight.”

“A hundred says he isn’t.”

“Deal.”

Parting on a fist bump, Magnus winks at his admiring husband in passing and locates Isabelle in the newly-restored kitchen. Unsupervised.

Worse still, she’s engrossed in that cookbook from Idris that Robert gifted her years ago, but when she begins her feverish search for ingredients, that’s when fear grips him, thanks to a deeply unpleasant memory.

Throwing back his cocktail, Magnus knows he has to try and stop her before someone gets hurt.

“Isabelle, my dear, care to help me devour the last cream cheese bagel from Sadelle’s before Alexander gets his hands on that thing?”

She hits him in his weak spot with those luminous Lightwood eyes and devastating smile, and before she’s even finished her sweetly-worded request for permission to cook, he’s giving her carte blanche to potentially poison them all.

Oh well, he tried.

Spinning on his heels, Magnus initiates plan B, first seeking out Clary to deploy her best distraction tactics on her girlfriend and secondly, heading for his apothecary to prepare the potent werewolf fangs they’ll all need to consume.

Glimpsing a terrified Jace as he emerges from the kitchen, Magnus cuts him off with, “I’m on it,” to which Jace nods in relief.

Minutes later, he’s just bottling the preventive potion when Alec steps inside and closes the door with a look of intent that holds more danger than anything his sister’s cooking could.

“Finally,” Alec whispers, grabbing Magnus to him by his waist and crushing his mouth like a starved man finding a meal.

Magnus allows himself a few minutes of mind-blowing kisses and handsy exploration, then detaches himself reluctantly to explain his need for haste in delivering the elixir to their guests, but Alec simply shrugs and pulls him back in for more.

Both freeze mid-action when an apologetic Jace, hands raised to protect his eyes from any scenes of near-nudity, grabs the bottle and leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Damn it,” Alec groans, both taking a steadying breath as they restore their clothes to a reasonable state of tidiness, rejoining the party after one last chaste kiss.

After dosing themselves up and with new drinks in hand, Magnus settles within Alec’s embrace to watch Rafe and Maryse sing the Spanish lullabies Alec’s been teaching their son from his childhood, When Luke joins his wife to lend his voice, it draws everyone else into the impromptu concert.

Magnus closes his eyes to savour his husband’s soft baritone and burrows deeper into his arms, grateful beyond measure for the loved ones that make his life this beautiful.

***********************************

“I don’t want to disturb them,” Alec admits as they lie sprawled and overlapping on opposite ends of the too-comfy couch, their sons’ adorable snores the only sound to break the well-earned peace they’re finally able to enjoy.

Magnus sighs, running gentle fingers through Rafe’s hair as he watches Alec nuzzle Max’s, both children curled into their chests with half their face-paint still on. “I don’t either, but we’ll all be sorry if we wake-up with stiff necks and headaches.”

Reluctantly, they gather up their sons, few protests made as they’re carried to their beds, where Magnus’ magic wipes their faces clean and dresses them in their festive pyjamas. Feather light kisses and moon-shaped night-lights, don’t disturb them.

Grateful for the day they’ve had, but more than ready for this time alone together, the husbands hold hands and head for their room, exchanging ‘love you’s’ and sharing kisses until they’re both sated and asleep.

And neither could wish for a more perfect way to wrap up Christmas than that.

#forensicsisabelle #malecsanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

7 notes · View notes