#magnus is an a+ boyfriend and super emotionally intelligent and we're all really lucky

[bisexualmarvelmagnusbane]

so i’ll hand you over all of me (malec)

alec gets drunk for the first time and goes to magnus. trigger warning for discussions of child abuse (alec’s childhood; canon typical levels) and for the use of alcohol as a method of self-harm (also alec). more detailed warnings at ao3. (this post does have a read more on it, fyi in case you can’t see it on mobile.) read on ao3 | my other malec fics

Magnus doesn’t answer the door, because Alec doesn’t knock. He just opens it, to find Alec collapsing beside it in the hallway.

“Alexander.” He rushes to Alec, one hand going to his chest, the other to his face, wondering just how many loved ones he’s going to have to catch falling in his door. He starts to ask Alec if he’s hurt when the smell of alcohol overwhelms him.

“Oh Alec,” he murmurs as Alec trips over what might be an apology and the threshold, slipping in Magnus’ grasp.

“I did it; I got drunk,” Alec informs him, bitter and slurred. His hands slide over Magnus like he’s forgotten how to hold on. He knocks his forehead against the side of Magnus’ head, a painful display of affection that makes Magnus wince.

“Alec,” Magnus says, more or less pulling Alec to the nearest chair. “What happened?”

Alec shakes his head, face scrunched as he refuses to answer. Magnus sees him regret the motion almost instantly, a hand going clumsily to his mouth as he blurts, “’m gonna –” and uses Magnus as a push off point to get to the bathroom. His legs splay beneath him as he stumbles towards it and Magnus, close behind him, slips under his shoulder to hold him up.

They drop to the floor of Magnus’ bathroom when they get there, Alec heaving into the toilet before Magnus has even disentangled himself from him. “Oh sweetheart,” Magnus soothes, running tender fingers through the sweat-curled hair at Alec’s nape as he shifts back to give Alec the room he needs. “My Alec.” The second endearment is spoken too low for Alec to hear, Magnus holding it sweetly on his tongue.

With his free hand, Magnus summons his phone and sends a quick text to Isabelle and Jace. Izzy replies almost immediately with Oh he's with you, thank god and Jace says nothing, but the relief he feels is so strong that Magnus can sense it flood over the parabatai bond through the hand he has on Alec. He sends the phone away again as Alec turns towards him, done. Magnus sees dried tear tracks on his face. His chest folds in on itself at the sight, making it hard to breathe.

“It's so – hot, Magnus,” Alec whines, pulling at the collar of his shirt, trying to make his way to the buttons of the henley, but all he manages to do is increase his own frustration. Magnus can't help the small puff of laughter that illicits.

“All right, all right,” Magnus soothes, gently laying his hands over Alec's. “Let me help.” Alec's hands drop as he lets Magnus take care of unbuttoning his shirt and laying the collar open. “Better?”

Alec considers. “No,” he answers finally, petulant, and starts trying to pull the shirt off by the sleeves.

Magnus smiles at his clumsy attempts, endeared even in his worry. “Hey,” he interrupts, stilling Alec's hands again. “Let me.” He slips his hands to Alec's waist and pushes the shirt up Alec's chest, guiding it over Alec's head as Alec crosses his arms to pull it off his back. His arms are still stuck in it, trapped in front of him and before he can get irritated, Magnus grabs the end of one sleeve and slides it off right side out, then does the same with the other as Alec watches.

“Thanks. Tha'z better,” Alec says, without a trace of anything resembling embarrassment in the slight slur, and Magnus is struck by just how uninhibited he is. How vulnerable he's made himself. Magnus brings the wards around the loft up, unwilling to be barged in on with Alec in this state. He feels sorry already about what kind of a night it's going to be for Alec.

Alec leans back against the wall, slumped and graceless. Magnus conjures a cool, damp washcloth and wipes the sweat from Alec’s brow and cheeks with it as gently as he can, washing the salt and sweat away. For a few moments, there's peace as Alec's breathing slows. Magnus hopes against hope that he's gotten past being sick, but the hope is hardly even formed before Alec is reaching desperately for the toilet again, Magnus helping him to it with a hand hooked around his back pushing against his shoulder blade.

He heaves until he has nothing left to bring up, Magnus wincing along, and hovers over the toilet for a long time, knuckles white as he grips the seat, eyes scrunched closed. Finally, he relaxes back against the wall again, looking wretchedly at the toilet, then wretchedly up at Magnus. “This is awful,” he rasps.

Magnus smiles knowingly, the expression tinged in sympathy, and brushes Alec's hair back, fingertips lingering against his forehead. “It's going to get worse,” he warns.

Alec balls his fists together against his stomach, forlorn. “Oh no.”

“Honey,” Magnus starts, kind, “do you want me to fix it?” He brings golden magic to his fingertips.

Alec stares at the swirling magic like Adam at the apple, all want and self-loathing. The look is so fierce and pained that Magnus almost rescinds the offer just to end it.

But then something gives in Alec's face. He mutters, “'s so pretty,” swaying close enough to the magic to be lit by the glow of it, gold tinging his cheekbones and lips. He's gorgeous like this, magic-kissed; Magnus feels his heart shudder beneath his ribs, his wrists throbbing in time. Alec tilts his head to look away from the magic toward Magnus, his expression something enraptured, and startling in its softness. Clumsily, but with great care, he brings his hand up over one of Magnus' eyes to brush his thumb over Magnus' browbone. “You, too.”

Magnus holds his breath. Doesn't dare move, not even to close his eyes beneath the touch. He traces the love line on Alec's palm; it glints with sweat and promise.

“No,” Alec says abruptly, finally answering Magnus' question, his hand dropping and taking Magnus' heart with it. “I worked really – hard – on this.” He waves a shaking hand at himself and the bathroom, then leans in to whisper to Magnus, who leans in to listen. “Had to drink so much vodka.”

Magnus pulls back sharply, the lingering magic in his palm vanishing with a crack. “You're drunk on vodka? Alec, you hate vodka.”

Alec nods. “I fucked up.” He says it like an explanation, flopping back against the wall at an odd angle and struggling to push himself upright again. Magnus has gone ice cold clear through and can't reach out to help.

“You're punishing yourself.” The words taste like vinegar in Magnus' mouth.

Uncomfortable, Alec shifts his weight.

“Alexander,” Magnus pleads. “Please tell me what happened.”

Alec shakes his head, harder and faster as Magnus tries to coax any information at all out of him, all supplication and endearments.

“Please,” Alec pants finally, begging, tears started anew. “I don't – I don't want you to know, Magnus.”

Magnus grabs Alec with both hands and gathers him up hard against his chest, before he's even thought about doing it.

“Okay,” he soothes, rubbing Alec's trembling back and sweeping the knuckles of the other hand across Alec's cheek. Tears coat the back of his hand. He murmurs the words into Alec's hair, heartsick. “It's okay, Alec. I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me. I love you, I'm sorry, I love you.”

Shaking, Alec pushes against Magnus' chest, giving himself enough room to pull back to look at him, but he loses the nerves when he starts to speak. “Are you sure?” he asks, hands clenching into fists against Magnus' chest. “I mean, after – ” He doesn't go on and Magnus is left confused.

“Am I – what?” Magnus reaches for Alec's face, but stops when Alec flinches. For a long while it looks like Alec isn't going to repeat himself, but then he squares his shoulders and looks intently at Magnus, like Magnus is beautiful and precious and incomprehensible and something he wants to have forever. He lifts gentle, shaking hands to Magnus’ face, fingertips at brow and cheekbone. The touch is so soft it makes Magnus tremble.

“Are you sure you love me?”

Magnus' stomach drops with such force he fears he's going to be sick. “Oh god,” he chokes.

“I-I don't – what –” Alec's breathing quickens in his panic and Magnus vicioiusly swallows the emotions he’s choking on.

“Of course, dear heart,” he says. Slowly, making sure Alec is ready for it this time, Magnus brings their faces together, hands cradling Alec’s jaw. They breathe into each other’s mouths. Magnus can taste the vodka in the back of his throat. “I’m sure. I love you. I love you so much, Alec.”

Alec's whole body goes limp at the reassurance, his entire weight resting in Magnus' hands and the magic he summons to help him keep Alec upright.

“That’s good.” Alec says faintly.

“Yes,” Magnus agrees. “It is good.” He takes several moments to collect himself, still forehead-to-forehead with Alec, waiting until Alec's breathing settles into a regular rhythm.

“I've never been more sure of anything, you know,” he says then, quiet, “than I am that I love you. Alexander.”

Alec considers this, fingers wrapped around Magnus' throbbing wrists, and a softness comes to the set of his shoulders. “Me too, Magnus,” he says and leans forward to plant a sloppy kiss above the corner of Magnus' mouth – clearly not where he'd been aiming. Magnus smiles beneath it.

“You need to drink some water,” he tells Alec once Alec's moved on to nuzzling into the side of his face. He helps Alec ease back against the wall again, but hovers close, his bent knees resting on either side of one of Alec's sprawled legs.

Alec meets the idea with open disdain. “I’ll just –” he brings an exhausted hand up along his throat, flicking his wrist as it passes his mouth.

“You might,” Magnus concedes. “But it’ll be better than throwing up stomach acid.”

Alec considers this. “...Prolly true,” he acquiesces finally. Magnus magicks a glass of water for him, carefully making it just below room temperature to soothe without upsetting. Alec has to grip it with both hands. Magnus brushes his fingertips along Alec's temple while he drinks.

“Easy,” he chides, when Alec goes to down the whole glass. “You're always double or nothing. Here.” He takes the glass back, substituting his hand for it in Alec's grip, his thumb rubbing at the inside of Alec's wrist. He waits a beat and says, “Alec? I don't want to upset you by asking, but are you sure that don't want me to make you feel better?”

“Had worse.” Alec shrugs in answer. “When I was – twelve? twelve – I got food poisoning.” He shudders and Magnus sympathy shudders alongside him. “And I still had training and got a new rune that day, too. Didn’t want to but.” He shrugs again. “Threw up on dad’s shoes, in front of everybody. He –” he waves a hand weakly, “not happy.” His voice darkens with remembered shame. “Mom neither.”

Turning away, Magnus puts a hand to his mouth. The thought of a preteen Alec pushed to work through illness – and only to receive disappointment – is stomach-churning. He thinks again that Alec won't be the only one getting sick tonight.

“Didn’t eat before new runes after that,” Alec says, decisive and proud, as though that were the obvious solution to that problem. For a while they’re silent, Alec tired and Magnus horror-stricken, and then Alec grabs for the toilet again, dragging himself up to divest himself of the water.

Magnus cools the washcloth again with a snap of magic and lays it gently on the back of Alec's neck, his heart aching.

They’re quiet then for a long time after that round has passed as Magnus prompts Alec through drinking more water. Magnus thinks that maybe the talking portion of Alec’s escapade in drunkenness has passed. He might be a little relieved. But then Alec looks at him sideways once before saying, “You know,” conspiratorially and Magnus knows they’re not. “I broke a kid’s nose once.”

“Oh,” Magnus says, uncertain. “Good for you.”

“I was also a kid,” Alec clarifies, “at the time.”

Magnus nods. “That does help.”

“We were training. I didn’t...really mean to break his nose; I mean I didn’t mean not to but – it was training. I was finally getting it right.” He lifts a shoulder. “He was the son of a higher-up so I got in big time trouble for it. Corporal punishment trouble.” He lifts an eyebrow like what he’s saying isn’t horrifying. “Lashes. Back before they quit doing that.”

“How old were you?” Magnus asks, anguished. His voice is shaking, but Alec doesn’t notice.

Alec thinks for a moment. “Ten,” he says. He leans forward, smiling. “No one even knew it hurt – I couldn’t lay on my back for a week – but no one knew,” he tells Magnus. Magnus blanches when he realizes that he’s bragging about bearing the pain. “Mom was really proud of me, cuz I never said a word the whole time.”

“God, Alexander.” Magnus feels bile rise in his throat. He's unsure how much more of this he can take. Someone needs to save Maryse Lightwood’s children, he thinks helplessly, reaching for Alec. And Maryse from herself. And from me.

He lays a hand against Alec's jaw. “Fucking Shadowhunters,” he laments, voice breaking. “The things they do to their children.”

“Not my children,” Alec protests, offended. “Never let them lay a hand on ours, Magnus, I promise.”

Magnus nearly swallows his tongue. “I know,” he assures Alec, voice tight as he fights to keep himself together. “I know you won't.”

Alec nods, patting Magnus' arm. Magnus' hand slips up to Alec's cheek and Alec leans into it, sighing. “I’m tired,” he says, eyes fluttering closed. “Can I sleep?”

“Please,” Magnus begs. “Please do.”

“Okay,” Alec says and falls asleep in Magnus' hands.

Magnus takes a moment to compose himself, watching the rise and fall of Alec's chest and timing his own breaths to Alec's. When he's calm enough to summon the magic required, he gently gathers Alec’s long frame and guides his unconscious, floating form to his bed. He slides Alec's shoes and pants off and brings the blanets over him, running a tender hand over Alec's brow and temple. Alec nuzzles into Magnus' palm, curling onto his side and pulling Magnus down with him in his sleep. Magnus goes willingly, curving his body around Alec's as best he can, one leg hooked over Alec's waist in a way that is both awkward and uncomfortable, but he couldn't care less.

“Magnus,” Alec says suddenly and Magnus realizes that he must have fallen asleep and Alec must have woken up. He's quivering beneath Magnus. “'s all my fault. Tonight – it was my fault.”

Fully awake in an instant, Magnus has the sudden overwhelming urge to murder every single living being that has ever made Alec feel responsible for things he’s not responsible for – to do it bloody, from the inside out. With a violent snap of his fingers above their heads, he sends a burst of magic from his palm into his living room. It’s loud as it destroys whatever of his possessions that it hits. Alec starts, jerking despite Magnus' weight still on him.

“I'm sorry,” Magnus murmurs, placing a calming hand on Alec’s back. “I'm not mad at you, Alec.” He takes a moment to calm himself as well as Alec, draws the rage out of every limb to let it sit simmering low in his stomach. He sits up, to better handle this, keeping his hands on Alec as he does. “It wasn't your fault, Alec,” he says, definitive, trying to push the truth of it through the air to Alec. “You did what you could.”

Alec looks unconvinced, gaze unflinchingly resting on Magnus' face as he sprawls below him on the bed. “You don't know, Magnus, you don't know what happened, you weren't there.”

“You're right,” Magnus grants. “But I know you, Alexander. I know you did everything you could to make things turn out right.” He pauses a moment, his hand shaking against Alec's upper arm. “I'm so sorry they didn't, dear heart.”

For several heart-stoppingly tense moments, Alec is silent. Finally, he rolls over and pulls himself up against Magnus' thighs, whispering, “Me too.” Magnus bends in half to lay across him in the closest they can come to a hug in this position. Alec shudders beneath him. “Thank you,” he murmurs and then, “When does my stomach stop feeling like it's got a shax demon in it?”

Magnus presses a smiling kiss into Alec's back and sits up, bringing a hand to Alec's cheek. “Day after tomorrow.”

Alec groans into Magnus' thigh.

“Unless you've changed your mind about letting me fix it?”

“No, um,” Alec licks his lips. “That's okay, I'll just – I'll just – I'll...sleep.” And before Magnus can say anything else, his body has relaxed into it, his grip on Magnus' legs going slack.

Magnus does not sleep again. Not that night and not for several nights after.

~|~

He fixes pancakes in the morning, piles of them, something he hasn't done in decades. Blueberry, strawberry, banana, chocolate chip, combinations thereof, and plain – all assembled into different stacks with a variety of toppings from whipped cream and fruit and cinnamon and syrup, artfully displayed, to some with only butter. His kitchen is covered in them by the time he hears Alec wake up. He lifts the plates with magic, a large glass of water along with them, and brings them all to his bedroom, where he leans down to kiss Alec's forehead, breakfast hovering above their heads.

“Good morning, Alexander,” he murmurs against Alec's skin, moving to kiss Alec's lips before Alec can  return the greeting. He feels Alec smile into the kiss. He pulls back and Alec sits up, grimacing.

“Breakfast will help,” Magnus says sympathetically, sitting beside him. “Do you have a pancake preference?”

Alec glances around at all the airborn plates in horror and then looks at Magnus like he's suggested Alec take a hacksaw to his own face.

“You're going to want to eat sooner rather than later, Alec,” Magnus insists, fond. “I know the thought alone is horrifying, but trust me. Also,” he adds, bringing the glass of water within reach to grab it and offer it to Alec, “try to drink your body weight in water, starting right now.”

Reluctant but trusting, Alec takes the glass and after a few sips, starts to warm up to the idea enough to take a genuine swallow, before handing the glass back to Magnus to be set on the bedside table and steeling himself to face the pancakes.

Magnus smiles and brings the plates lower, so Alec can see all the offerings. “Preference?” he asks again.

“Um, I've never actually...had pancakes.”

“Shadowhunters,” Magnus despairs and sees the memory hit Alec. He remains quiet, letting Alec decide what to do with the moment.

Alec shakes it off. “Izzy's the only one in my family who cooks – and she's awful,” he defends himself. “Well Jace does too sometimes,” he amends, “but you have to bribe him and it's never worth the price.”

Magnus laughs. “What did it cost you?”

“A month of answering phone calls from girls he'd slighted. God, he was a heel at 17.”

“Oh my, Alexander,” Magnus says, still laughing. “And what did that get you?”

“The best goddamn spaghetti I ever had.”

“You've never been tempted to ask for it again?”

Alec shakes his head, mock solemn. “I have an excellent memory of it and that's all I need.” He smiles as Magnus continues to laugh.

“Well,” Magnus says finally, “I'll guess you'll have to start with my favorite: Blueberry pancakes topped with bananas and strawberry syrup.” He brings that plate to his hand and sets the others down around the room. With a snap, he conjures two forks. “I hope you don't mind sharing,” he says with a grin, handing one to Alec.

Alec grins back at him. “Not at all.”

For a while, they eat in silence, both ravished and Alec's enthusiasm for the activity growing as he finds that it settles his stomach and lessens his headache, something he remarks on to Magnus with an unsurprised “You were right; you're always right” murmured through a mouthful of their second stack.

“I have a great deal of experience with hangovers,” Magnus admits, something in his voice bringing a weight to the conversation.

Alec pauses his eating, bringing the fork down to the plate on the bed between them. “I...said a lot of things last night, didn't I?” he says.

Neutrally, Magnus nods.

“I don't – ” he starts, and reconsiders. “I'm sorry.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, emphatically. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Magnus can tell by the tilt of Alec's shoulders that Alec doesn't agree. “I didn't mean to-to make you take care of me.”

“Alec, it's a privilege.” Magnus takes Alec's hands in his. “I will always be here for you when you need me. That's what love does.” He brings his face closer to Alec's, looking him in the eye. “You wouldn't turn me away if I needed you, would you?”

Alec looks affronted at the very thought. “No, never. Magnus – never.”

Magnus smiles. “Then why should it be any different when you need me?”

“I shouldn't – I shouldn't – ”

“What? Need people?” Magnus tilts his head at him. “Alec.”

Cornered, Alec snaps, “I shouldn't have showed up drunk on your doorstep.” The look on his face after he's said it is one of triumph.

Magnus sighs and takes a moment before answering, running his hands slowly up and down the insides  of Alec's tense forearms. He finally stills his hands over Alec's clenched fists.

“I do wish you wouldn't hurt yourself, or cause yourself harm,” he starts. “But you're never an inconveinence to me, Alec. Or a burden.” He pauses, reaching for Alec's face, tracing the shape of his brow and jaw with his eyes. He brings his other hand to Alec's still-bare chest, above his heart. “You are the great gift of my life, Alexander. In all these centuries, nothing has meant more to me than you.” He pauses again, watching what he's saying settle into the lines of Alec's body. “Please don't ever feel the need to keep yourself from me,” he continues, “especially not for my sake. It will do the exact opposite of what you intend.”

Alec stares at him for a long, long time, eyes roving over his face, shoulders, chest, down to his waist, Alec's hands coming to follow along, running over the muscle of Magnus' thigh and calf and back up his side to his neck. Alec opens his mouth, a choked sound all he can make, and pulls Magnus towards him with a hand behind his neck. This kiss hits its mark, Alec's tongue passing between Magnus' lips and teeth with a tenderness so sweet and strong it starts Magnus shaking.

They pull apart, both panting, and Alec says, “I wish I knew how to tell you what you mean to me.”

Magnus vanishes the plate from the bed, grabbing Alec by the shoulders and pulling him on top of him as he lays back against the bed, spreading his legs for Alec to come to rest between them. “Show me,” he suggests in a husky whisper against Alec's cheek.

Alec's mouth roams every inch of Magnus that morning, tongue and teeth over every curve of muscle and every push of bone against skin. He brings Magnus close with that eager, earnest mouth only to back off – over and over until Magnus is whimpering with love and need, his body aglow and magic sparking uncontrolled in his fingers, bringing warmth and dizzying pleasure to Alec when the sparks fly against his skin.

Magnus comes at the loving caress of Alec's tender hand to the sound of Alec moaning Magnus' name against his temple like it's the only word he'll ever say.