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livsoulsecrets · 3 years ago

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Kit Herondale Fic - Am I Enough?

Summary: Kit wonders if he has what it takes to be the big brother Mina deserves and goes to Alec for some advice, which proves to be really useful.

It was funny, Kit thought as he got up from Magnus’ fancy couch, leaving his parents happily chatting with Jace as he retold some of his favorite memories with Alec. Everyone saw Jace as this untouchable hero, an example of glory and fierceness, even Jace himself thought that, Kit was certain, but nobody was more worth of admiration to Jace than Alec, that much was clear in the way he looked at his parabatai for affirmation every time he spoke in public, the anchoring hand he would always lay on Alec’s shoulder before battle and the softness of the words whispered between them.

Alec was Jace’s hero in every sense of the world. Alec was everything Kit hoped he could be to Mina, little Mina that would hang on to his finger like her life depended on it, who would smile at him every time he picked her up, Mina, who he would die for and live for and do anything and everything for. His light and wild rose, she was so much more than he deserved, but Kit was determined to be exactly who she needed.

That determination is what kept Kit going as he walked into Magnus and Alec’s kitchen, finding the Consul of the Shadowhunters, the highest authority of their people, one of their most skilled and wisest members, with glitter all over his hair and a well-intended, but still tragically messy rainbow on his cheek, courtesy of his son, Rafael, who looked quite proud of himself.

— Yes, now you are ready for the party! — Rafe announces, putting the paint-brush down.

— Thank you for that, I am sure I look... — Alec stops, looking over to Kit, noticing his presence. — Interesting? — He completes, hesitant.

— That is one way to put it. — Kit answers, barely containing a laugh.

— He looks gay! — Rafael says, fiercely, crossing his arms.

— I look what now? — Alec asks, confused, but still entertained.

— You heard the kid. — Kit is laughing now, not being able to help it.

— Gay, dad. Papa told me gay means happy as well! He said you would be gay twice if I made you happy on your birthday! — Rafael explains, looking offended his point wasn’t understood. — I know how much you like my drawings, so I made you a gay one, like the flag we bought last week. — Kit feels like he is intruding a lovely family moment, but he is too touched by Rafe’s dedication to miss the scene. Alec smiles and bows down to kiss his son’s forehead.

— Gracias, hijo. — He says, messing his hair up in sequence. — I do love your drawings and I love you even more. — Rafe smiles back to his dad, pleased with himself. He gets off the table, where he was sitting to be able to paint his dad’s face, and runs to the living room.

— He is adorable, you know. — Kit says and Alec smirks.

— Yeah, he really is. I’m lucky. — Alec’s words are simple and direct, like many things about him are, but they stick with Kit. Before he met his family, he used to think love was a complicated, painful and disastrous thing, like what his dad seemed to feel for his mom and for Kit himself, like the lies and betrayal he saw in the Shadow Market, like the tricks he pulled as well. It was only after getting to know Tessa and Jem that Kit noticed love was quite simple, that good, real love was calm and peaceful and felt like home. The trust and the care he learned from them made Kit understand that loving somebody is not about the big gestures and dramatic moves, it is about knowing someone inside out and still staying, not because you desperately needed them, but because you desperately wanted them.

Alec’s love for his family was a lot like the one Jem and Tessa had, the love they shared with Mina and Kit. That is what prompted Kit to come after Alec today, seeking some guidance in how to present this very same type of love to his little sister.

— Alec, could I ask you something? I know it is your birthday and I don’t want to bother you, but I promise it will be fast-

— Kit, just ask it. You’re not bothering me. — Alec cuts his rambling off and Kit is grateful for that, not even understanding why he is so nervous. Ever since he moved in with Tessa and Jem, he had met Alec many times and grew quite close with his family as well, since Tessa was one of Magnus’ oldest friends. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Alec could never be anything other than kind towards him.

— Okay, sure. Good. — He answers, eyes casting down. — This is probably a weird question, but... How did you make sure you were the brother your siblings needed? Because, honestly, Jace and Izzy adore you and it seems so effortless to you that it blows my mind. I have known Mina her whole life, which is not much, you know? She is only one. But, for her, it is a lot of time! Still, I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like- By the Angel, like she needs so much more than I can give her. That is insane, I get it, her favorite word at the moment is poop and she adores to scream it at the top of her lungs every time we’re out, of course she doesn’t have great expectations right now, but she will someday and I don’t think I will be able to be who she needs me to be. Will I even deserve all the trust she puts in me? All the love she gives me? Will I even-

— Kit, stop. — Alec firmly demands and Kit is so shocked by the action that he finally turns to look at him. It is quite astonishing to find a sly smile on Alec’s lips. — Just stop, okay? You’re overthinking away too much, trust me: I have been there. It was never effortless to me, quite the opposite. I spent most of my life doubting I could be the right person to keep my siblings safe. When Max-

He stops, swallows dryly, seeming to gather himself for what he is about to say before speaking again.

— When Max died, I was destroyed. I felt like I failed him. Somedays I still do, so does Izzy, so does Jace. Still, I know Max would never think that of us, he knows Sebastian is the only one to blame for what happened. — His expression softens for a moment and Kit hopes he didn’t bring out any hard memories on such a happy day. — What I’m trying to say is that you will never feel like you’re enough or like you know what you’re doing, it will always be hard and the idea of letting Mina down will always be scary. There is no running away from that.

— So, I will just feel this terrified forever? — He is well aware of how disturbed he sounds, but can’t help it when Alec just dropped this bomb on him.

— No, not if you learn one little thing, that took me many years to understand. — Alec’s voice is soft now; the tone Kit only ever saw him use around his family.

— And what is that?

— Mina already thinks you’re the everything she needs. She already thinks you deserve all the love and trust she gives to you. You know why? — Alec questioned and Kit just stared blankly at him, not knowing what to say. — Because, every single day, you get up and choose to try your best to make her happy and keep her safe. That is all she needs from you: to never stop trying. She doesn’t want you to drive yourself crazy or sacrifice anything for her. I once thought the same, I was sure I could never be myself or be happy, if I wanted my siblings to be proud of me. I thought that was the only way I could protect them. Angel, how I was wrong. All they ever wanted was for me to be exactly who I am. — He glares at Jace laughing loudly in the living room, Izzy rolling her eyes at him, but still smiling softly at her brother shortly after, and something shifts inside of Kit.

That is what he wants for his and Mina’s future. He wants her to laugh at him until they are both out of breath, he wants her look at him with the just right combination of exasperation and affection, to still grab his hand when she is scared and run to his arms when she is happy.

— So... You are saying that I should just be myself? — Kit queries and Alec nods, as if he just asked him if the sky was blue.

— Yes, as cheesy as it sounds, just keep doing what you’re doing and I’m sure you will be fine.

— But what if who I am is not enough, Alec? — His voice cracks and he hates how obvious his uncertainty is, but Alec doesn’t shudder.

— Kit, you are more than enough. The fact you even question it already shows you are, that is why you care so much. Still, I know, better than most, that I can’t be the one to tell you that. Any words will fall flat if you don’t believe in it. Look, I wouldn’t worry too much about Mina if I were you. She already adores you. Maybe just focus on believing in yourself, make sure you see why she does. Do that, kid, and I can assure you all these doubts will vanish. — He lays a hand in his shoulder and squeezes it, dropping it shortly after.

— That was really... Wise. — Kit blurted out, trying to absorb what he just heard.

— Don’t sound so surprised. — Alec jokes and Kit can’t help but fell an overwhelming sense of gratitude settling in his chest.

— Thank you for saying all of that. It really helped, like, you have no idea how much. — Kit thanked him; glad he had gone to Alec with his questions.

— You’re welcome. — He calmly responded, just as Izzy entered the kitchen with an empty glass.

— Alec, where do you keep the wine? Because I’m sure Magnus is hiding the good stuff from me! — She claims, coming to rest against the door way.

— If I told you where he keeps it, I will probably have divorce files on my desk by morning. — Alec playfully provokes his sister, that just waves his concern away with a hand.

— Fine, for the sake of your marriage, I will just have you ask him for me. — Then, upon realizing Alec’s lack of interest in the idea, she pouts, moving to hang on Alec’s shoulder. — Please? — He looks down at her and sighs.

— As you please. — She claps in excitement and kisses him in the cheek.

— I’ll be waiting! — Izzy announces, before leaving the kitchen.

— Are you good? — Alec asks Kit once his sister disappears into the living room.

— I will be. — Kit answers and he is only half faking the confidence in his voice, so he takes that as a win.

— Yeah, you will. — Alec confirms as he walks away, Kit on his tow. He drops himself back in the couch, deep in thought. He is startled when a tiny hand grabs his left leg. Once Kit looks down, he finds Mina holding on tight to him to push herself up. He smiles down at her as she stands, her grip on Kit so strong he wonders if that is some sort of Shadowhunter-Warlock baby superpower.

— Min-Min, you are getting though. — He proudly states. Mina giggles, as if she understands what he’s saying and puts both of her hands up, a common indication she wants to be picked up by him.

Kit gladly does so, placing his sister in his lap. She wiggles her little feet up as she rests her head against his chest, one of her hands coming to grip the collar of his shirt. She must probably be tired, her nap time coming up, but Kit tells himself he’ll soon put her down in Rafe’s bed like Magnus offered, even though he knows he most likely won’t. He holds her against his heart as she dozes off, feeling her hand relaxing the grip in order to rest against his heart, her five little perfect fingers going up and down with every heartbeat beneath them.

In that moment, he’s absolutely sure they’ll be just fine, not because he’s perfect or sure he will never make mistakes, but simply because he loves her away too much to be anything other than his very best self.

#Kit Herondale #Kit Rook #kit herondale fic #Alec Lightwood #Jace Herondale #izzy lightwood #max lightwood #mina carstairs #jem carstairs #tessa gray #rafael lightwood bane #the shadowhunters chronicles #my fics #the dark artifices #the mortal instruments #ghosts of the shadow market #fluff

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stradlingmrstradlin · 4 years ago

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So I enjoy writing and I this is the first story that I wrote with the intent of being posted. Constructive criticism is always welcome ♥️

Here's the story

Steven x Duff

Reader x Izzy

(No warnings, maybe swearwords if that counts, also I don't promote underage drinking)

I think I managed to stay gender-neutral

Words: 2794

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You were on a road trip with the guys, how did you end up here? Oh well, you've known the guys for a few years as you were good friends with Steven since you were kids, but you had a falling out because he moved around quite a lot and your family did too.

When you were 14 your family moved to Seattle and stayed there for 4 years. In those years you met a blond-haired dude whose name was Michael or as you and a few other people called him, Duff. You and Duff met at a corner store when you were 15 and tried to steal a bottle of vodka. Duff was also lurking around the alcohol section, also probably trying to steal some alcoholic beverage.

But he was, according to the store manager, a suspicious punk guy...so he got kicked out before even getting his hands on anything. You felt bad for him so after sliding a bottle in the inside pocket of your denim jacket and throwing a wink and a charming smile towards the cashier you walked out.

So there you were at eighteen having to say goodbye to Duff because your family was moving away... again but now to Ireland. You had a huge argument with your family about always moving and you losing all of your friends because of them so you made a decision, to run away. Ok, I know that's a stupid idea because how the fuck will you survive on your own?

Your family was well off so you decided to take a bit of money with you, they probably wouldn't even notice.

You lived in quite a few places after that, from the back alley of the theater to Duff's place, his family loved you so it was ok. When Duff decided to move to LA to pursue his dream of being in a band you of course followed him.

You moved into a small one-room apartment together, but it was great. Living with Duff is fun. But he always moved stuff on the top shelf to mess with you, and also money was tight. You guys both worked a lot but it was alright.

He joined a few bands and played a few gigs in shitty bars but none of them worked out. You played guitar so you tried but it was the same with you, never being able to keep a band together for more than a month. Also being a girl didn't help, because many bands thought that it'll ruin their image if a girl is in the band.

Eventually, he put an ad in the paper looking for a band and that's how he met the other guys. You were super surprised to see Steven there but also happy to see him. Also, you remembered Slash from meeting him with Steven maybe a couple of times. The only new people were the two boys, who, as you later found out were from Indiana. The one who looked a bit like Johnny Thunders was hot, but you ignored that fact for now.

The first thing you noticed between your two blond friends was a bit of jealousy, at first you thought maybe they liked you and were jealous of each other, but after a while, even before they knew it, you caught onto the real reason. They didn't like you, at least not romantically, they liked each other. But for about four years they didn't act in their feelings...(later on about that)

Eventually, in 1985 they formed Guns N Roses. The guys liked you, and Axl tried to fuck you, but after a big smack on the head and an angry talking to by Duff he quickly forgot that idea.

So now in 1988 here you were sitting in the back of a van, that Izzy was driving because he was the only sober one...today. Tomorrow probably you'll have to drive.

Your pov.

We were in the car for about twenty minutes and everything was calm...for now. Led Zeppelin was coming from the radio and Axl was softly singing along, in the front seat and Izzy was driving. Duff sipping something from a bottle, probably something alcoholic, and slowly falling asleep and leaning on Steven's shoulder. Steve was smiling per usual, but if possible his smile got even bigger when Duff's head landed on his shoulder. But as all good things come to an end, the comfortable silence got broken.

"I have to pee!" Steven suddenly yelled out, causing Duff to lift his head off of Steven's shoulder and look around in confusion. "The fuck is going on?"

Axl just grumbled "Steven is a fucking baby and can't go and use the toilet before road trips...no he has to use them when we are in the middle of a fucking highways"

Slash snorted at Axl's response but didn't say anything as he didn't want to get into this argument, surprising.

Can't the guys stay still for one second?

"Izzy, can you please stop the car at the next rest stop?" I asked, as kindly as possible not wanting to further upset Rosie and listen to him throwing a temper tantrum for the next hour or so, he's annoying sometimes.

Anyways we stopped at the next stop, and Steven almost ran to the restroom. I switched places with Axl because he was tired and wanted to sit in the back, so he could stretch out a bit. Now Axl was sitting next to Slash, and Steven came back jumping in next to Duff. We're on the road again.

"Can I switch the music?" Izzy looked at me with almost puppy dog eyes, well I didn't think that was possible.

"Of course, what do you have in mind?"I replied almost laughing because of the face he was making

"Maybe Hanoi Rocks?" He again looked at me with the same stupid face.

"Fine, just stop making that face because I'll probably die from laughter" At this point, I just straight up burst out laughing and he just threw a cute lil smile my way. I was super proud of myself because I made THE Izzy Stradlin laugh.

A little background on me and Izzy. When we first met I ignored that he was hot because I didn't want to mess anything up for Duff with the band, but in the next two years that feeling grew from "oh, he's hot" to "I want to fuck him". No, we never fucked, but at a party in 87' we had a really hot make-out session which was sadly ended by a drunk Slash passing out on top of me...that was a wild party. There were no awkward feelings between us but we never took it further either. We sometimes cuddled and kissed when we needed human contact but nothing else. I always wanted more, but Izzy...Izzy is a mysterious guy, hard to figure out, the only person who somewhat is able to figure him out is Axl...but you don't go to Axl asking for advice, because Axl's advice is usually bad advice.

..My thoughts were interrupted by the opening cords for Don't You Ever Leave Me, which's one of my favorite songs. Izzy glanced at me and seconds later we were quietly singing because we didn't want to disturb our four friends who were asleep in the back. Axl and Slash were leaning on each other and Axl's face was barely visible because of Slash's hair. Duff was leaning on a window and Steve was cuddled up to him.

As I was looking at my friends when Iz asked me a question "When do you think they'll realize that they like each other because you have to be an idiot to not realize it, I mean Steven always smiles around Duff, and Duff is so cuddly with steven?" Oh boy, the problem was, that our friends were indeed stupid, at least on the topic of love. "I don't know Iz, they are after all a bit ignorant when it comes to love" As I said this I saw something in Izzy's face change, but I couldn't identify it because it was gone pretty soon. After that we didn't talk much, only glancing at each other a few times but it wasn't uncomfortable or anything, we just didn't have anything else to say out loud.

However, my thoughts were really loud... Ignorant with love? That sounds like us, maybe after all Duff and Stevie weren't the only stupid ones.

...It was around 6 pm when we got to our destination, a fairly large cabin up in the hills, between a shit ton of trees. Nice, finally we can rest without reporters, fans, and annoying paparazzi asking about the private life of the guys.

Everyone had their own room as nobody really wanted to share, we specifically looked for a cabin with 6 rooms, we love each other but sharing a room is annoying. In the beginning, when we didn't have much I shared rooms with probably all of the guys.

Axl is an annoying little fucker, he kicked me in his dream a lot of times, my back hurt a lot after. Slash is nice, he let me have my own space on the small bed we slept on and didn't bother me, well he accidentally woke me up when he fell off the bed, but that sucks for him, not me. Steven and Duff both love cuddles, Steven almost suffocated me once but other than that it's nice sleeping next to them. Izzy...He doesn't hug you or cuddle up to you when you're going to sleep but somehow you always wake up tangled together.

After we brought up our luggage to our assigned rooms Slash had the awesome idea to watch a film. Steven wanted to watch something funny but Axl quickly told him to fuck off.

"Axl, that's very rude" Duff quickly came to the help of Steven. "Yeah, well I ain't watching some shitty comedy, that's for pussies" ..Axl is an asshole sometimes

Slash had enough of arguing and just put on a horror movie and told everyone to shut up and watch the movie.

Halfway through, Steven was cuddled up to Duff, hiding in his chest.

Axl laughed every time someone died, and Slash always shushed him.

Outside pov.

As the movie went on Steven was buried under his hair, two blankets, and most importantly to him, in Duff's arms. How can they be so stupid? Not noticing something that's there?

But they weren't the only stupid ones, no there was a black-haired boy, and you. Also stupid... too stupid in love to notice what's there.

After the movie ended you made food for the guys. Duff decided to help, as the others were pretty incapable of cooking or didn't want to help.

Your pov.

"You know y/n you're blind for not noticing how Izzy looks at you." Duff stated bluntly. "Well McKagan then you're pretty blind for not noticing how Steven looks at you"

"What do you mean?" He asked with...hope? His eyes got wider and you could hear his voice shake a bit.

"Duff, are you serious? Steven likes you, he always tries to be close to you, looks at all the groupies you fuck with so much anger in his eyes, I never thought he could be so angry. And don't think I don't see you staring at him all day" I said with a sweet smile on my face.

"I don't get it y/n..he..he likes me?"

"Yes Duff, he does, he really does, so please don't mess this up, promise me you'll talk to him while we're here"

I really hope he'll talk to him because it's probably eating them up from the inside to keep these feelings locked away.

"But! Y/n, you should talk to Izzy too, you have something between the two of you" Duff looked at me with pleading eyes

"Duff, things are complicated, we.... well, we know about each other's feelings but, I don't know, I guess we're just too afraid to fuck it up"

I don't know about his feelings, to be honest, but I'm definitely scared to fuck up because I really like him. For a time I never thought I'd be able to love someone, and I know that's a strong word to use, but when he came along, stuff changed.

By the time we were done cooking the guys were all hungry and basically ran to the kitchen, I was really conflicted inside from our conversation with Duff. Should I mention it to Iz? Probably should. Whatever, I'll think about it later.

Night came around and everyone retreated to their own rooms to sleep, or in my case think.

Outside pov.

Slash and Axl were fast asleep in their rooms, but the others weren't.

Duff was sitting in the kitchen, head in his hands muttering to himself about being a coward and stupid. Steven however noticed someone downstairs and when he saw Duff and what he was muttering to himself he got sad. How could this perfect human being think that he's stupid? He tiptoed behind him and pulled Duff in his arms from behind. Duff was sitting so the back of his head was pressed into stevens chest. At first, Duff was scared but as soon as he smelled the familiar and calming scent of Steven he instantly felt comfortable, like he was at home. Steven turned Duff around and carefully put his fingers under the taller man's chin and leaned down to press a love-filled kiss onto his lips. At this moment both of them understood everything without words. Duff stood up hugging Steven and lifting him up to take him to his room. They didn't do anything else besides cuddling and a lot of kisses, but both of them felt safe and eventually, they fell asleep with Duff on his back pulling Steven close to him, almost on top of him. This is how they'll be found when you walked into Duff's room in the morning to tell him something.

What was that something?

Well after a lot of thinking you got up and went to Izzy's room. It's now or never you though.

Your pov.

My fingers softly collided with the wooden door and a rustling noise inside told me that Izzy heard it. This seemed like a really bad idea all of a sudden. Well, can't do anything about it now.

A soft "Who's there" could be heard from inside the room "Just me, can we talk?" I replied really quietly wondering if he heard me. "Yeah, come in"

"Iz, look I'm going to tell you something, ok? Please don't interrupt me."

"Alright"

"So you know when we met, I immediately found you extremely hot. Well, those feelings grew a lot since then, and when we kissed at the party, it just, felt so...right? I know you'll probably tell me that you were just drunk all of the times you kissed me, or just felt lonely. But Iz, I like you, a lot." Silence, that's all, he said nothing. Just staring at me with his signature poker face.

"I knew it, sorry for disturbing you, I'll just go now, forget it please!"

As I turned to walk away he grabbed my arms and pulled me back into a hug that soon turned into a kiss. When I opened my eyes again we were cuddling on his bed. This is where I felt home, felt alright, in his arms.

"I'm sorry for not responding love, it was just shocking to hear that you liked me. I thought you kissed me all those times just to anger Duff or Axl. I guess I just never thought you'd want to be with a junkie " Izzy whispered looking down at his arms sadly

"You thought wrong Iz, I don't give a fuck about what you do, well yes I don't like you doing drugs, but also you can get over that and to me you are perfect"

"Maybe it's too soon to say, but I love you y/n, I really do."

"I love you too Iz"

Outside pov.

Maybe they weren't so stupid after all, just scared of their feelings. The two blond boys, who understood each other without words. Izzy and you, on the other hand, needed words to understand each other fully.

But what matters is that in the end, everything was alright.

#steven x duff #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin one shot #guns n' roses #axlrose #axl rose #steven adler #duff mckagan #slash gnr

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sodalitefully · 4 years ago

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It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 1]

This is the first half of a AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road that @smokeandmirrorz and I came up with after he posted some awesome art for a Mad Max AU! This oneshot very loosely follows the plot of the movie, it may make less sense if you haven’t seen the film. I split it into two parts so it would be more readable on tumblr, the second part is here and the whole fic is also on AO3.

*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore (more so in the second part), and Immortan Joe.*

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It wasn't often that the wives were brought outside their chamber. Less often still that Steven got to be present when they were – so he considered himself lucky to be in the same room when the Immortan's only surviving wife emerged from the biodome to watch Immortan Joe send off his top Imperator on a mission to recruit more valuable full-lives after the untimely deaths of his other two wives.

It was a little known truth that Steven and Slash had history. 'Little known,' because if the Immortan caught wind that the two had become close when Slash was first brought to the Citadel and Steven was just a War Pup, he would be toast. As little as they'd talked in the years since then, Steven still considered Slash... if not a friend, at least an acquaintance. And that's more than he could say about his fellow War Boys.

Being allowed in the same room as Slash was the first step to reigniting their friendship. Now, if only Slash would acknowledge him...

"Steven." Slash's voice was barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes?" Steven perked up, encouraged that Slash hadn't forgotten about him after all.

"I need you to do something for me." Steven nodded eagerly. "I need you to go to Imperator Stradlin, and tell him to come visit me as soon as possible. Can you do that?"

"Of course. Anything for the Immortan!"

It wasn't for the Immortan, but Steven didn't need to know that.

"One more thing – It's top secret. You can't say a word to anyone else, alright?"

Getting to the wive's chamber wasn't hard for Izzy: all he had to do was convince the guards he was on official business, and then once he was inside the vault, the soundproof walls would take care of the rest. All the same, he did not have a good feeling about this "meeting." Whatever was going on, it was going to be trouble...

The thick vault door swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a dream, so serene it seemed impossible that it could exist in the same world as things like gas wars, and tumors, and the Wasteland.

Sunlight streamed through huge semi-opaque windows and illuminated the smooth sandstone walls. Green plants and relics of the old world surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water. And in the center of it all, clothed in the purest white, was the Immortan's most prized treasure:

"Slash... the Desired."

"Imperator." The wife looked him dead in the eye; his hair was restrained in a ponytail and draped with the same white fabric as the rest of his body. It was the first time Izzy had ever seen Slash's face completely clear of dark curls, and the first time he'd seen him with enough clothing to cover the rest of his skin.

“Why did you ask me to come here? Does Joe want something from me?”

Slash’s mouth twitched into a frown at the name, but he responded in a carefully level tone:

“I have a proposition for you.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. What could a wife possibly have to offer him? Besides the obvious, of course, and that... that was more trouble than it was worth.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” Slash explained.

“You’re crazy if you think he’ll just let you leave,” Izzy replied with a startled laugh. It was inconceivable, but Slash was looking at him with complete sincerity.

“He won’t. But you want to leave too.”

“Do I?” He did, but Slash definitely wasn’t supposed to know that.

“Please, you hate it here, it’s obvious. You want to leave, and I want you to take me with you."

“Fucking hell – don't you think I would have left by now if I could? And why would I help you anyway? How do I know you're not just testing my loyalty to the Immortan?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Me, doing favors for Joe?"

"Alright, fine. Then what if I betray you? I could be rewarded for... keeping the Immortan's property safe."

"What if I tell everyone you took advantage of the Immortan's absence to take his one and only wife for a test drive?"

"Fuck. You're not as pure as we've been led to believe, are you?"

Slash snorted. "Not by half."

"But that doesn't change anything. The Immortan would rip my throat out with his horse teeth for trying to steal one of his breeders –"

“Don’t call me that!” Slash snapped.

For a moment, Izzy was reminded of a younger Slash, fresh from the Wasteland and ready to bite at anything that got too close.

But Slash quickly composed himself, trying and not entirely succeeding to recapture an air of calm assertiveness. "Look, just... Just think about it, alright? We have a chance, I know we do, and really... How much more of this do you think you can take?"

Izzy sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded.

"Thank you."

Slash did his best to hide his disappointment, and Izzy wasn't about to stick around and make things worse by trying to console him. He turned around to leave the wives' sanctum, but hesitated before he reached the doorway.

"Slash... What really happened to the other Wives?"

"One... One miscarried. The Immortan wasn’t happy about that. The other tried to..." his lips faltered at the worst profanity in the Citadel, "... abort her pregnancy, it didn't end well. The Organic Mechanic couldn't do anything but give her something for the pain. They give us a serum, sometimes, to help us sleep. I gave her my dose."

The scouting party brought back a feral! they said. Full-life and raving mad, driving an Interceptor, can you believe it?

No, Izzy couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Axl Rose, MFP legend turned Road Warrior, could get taken down by a pack of half-dead War Boys. But the proof was in front of him, shivering in a cage, starving and in dire need of a shave.

"...I-Izzy?"

His voice was exactly the same as it always was, the respirator that Izzy cobbled together a lifetime ago couldn't hide the low timber that sometimes still appeared in his dreams.

He'd made a mistake when he thought he could play it safe at the Citadel. He should have listened when Axl told him they were better off on their own. The Citadel was a shrine to depravity, and he wouldn't let Axl become another one of its victims – he needed to get them out of the tower walls and far away as soon as possible. It would be a challenge to escape unnoticed... but Izzy knew the perfect distraction.

"I'll make a deal with you, Slash."

Slash didn't have the decency to look shocked when Izzy barged into the biodome uninvited – or the decency to put on the thin white shirt that lay discarded on the floor.

Actually, Izzy was the one looking shocked when his eyes fell on Slash’s bare belly and his carefully planned proposition died in his throat.

“What’s the deal?” Slash asked, but Izzy was more concerned with his unfortunate new realization:

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! What were you thinking, asking me to help you? The Immortan is going to shred me to pieces!”

“He’d shred you anyway, this won’t change anything,” Slash gritted out. Pregnant or not, there was no way he was about to let Izzy back out, not now. “What’s the deal, Stradlin?”

Izzy hated to be caught off guard, but he could use this to their advantage. Joe would never risk hurting a potential heir, making Slash an even better shield than before. And once he and Axl split off, there was no way Joe would waste time and resources going after a twice-disgraced Imperator and a feral bloodbag before he got his pregnant wife back, giving them a valuable head start – if it came to that.

"I'll take you with me on my next supply run. Ten days from now. We'll go to the Buzzards' territory, trade guzzoline for another vehicle. Then we part ways, got it? I'll get you out of here but I'm not babysitting you or your sprog for the rest of my life."

"You don't want to get caught with me, you mean. Stopping to deal with the Buzzards will give the Immortan time to catch up to us. I'm fucked on my own."

Izzy didn't respond, and tried to look like it didn't matter to him whether Slash took his offer.

"Fine. If they catch up... At least I'll die historic on the Fury Road," Slash said with a sardonic smile. "But I have a request – I need you to find me a driver. Someone who doesn't serve the Citadel, someone no one will notice is missing."

"There is no one like that."

"Really? All those people down there, and none of them can operate a car?"

"If they could, they wouldn't be there."

"There must be someone," Slash insisted. Izzy sighed.

"I'll see what I can do in ten days. But what the hell do you need them for?"

"Well... I can't drive."

On his third visit, Izzy had spent enough time in the biodome to say that stepping inside the pristine vault always made him feel like a dirty rag, used to wipe away sweat and grime then left out to stiffen in the dusty waste.

But if he was a dirty rag, then Duff was roadkill. He was a half-life, one of the Wretched who clung to the sides of the Citadel like barnacles, bathing in dust while the Immortan bathed in Mother's Milk. He was lanky – no, skeletal, nothing but sunburned skin and bone. He carried the Wasteland with him wherever he went, tracking dust with each step. Izzy bit down on the irrational urge to warn him not to touch anything in the vault.

The black leather collar around his neck marked him as a former denizen of Gas Town, one who had likely outlived his usefulness if his rickety prosthetic leg and the cluster of nasty tumors half-hidden by his hair had anything to say about it. Clearly, he was in no shape to labor in the refinery. Rumor had it that The People Eater was a cannibal – as his name suggested – but evidently Duff had escaped that fate, perhaps because he had no meat on his bones to speak of, and instead sought out clean water, abundant food, and fresh air at the Citadel. Hah.

Slash stared at them over his shoulder, wide-eyed and seated in the shallow pool in the center of the room. Tiny bottles lined the edge of the pool, and the scent of flowers wafted in the air.

"A bath? Now, really?"

"It might be the last chance I get," Slash countered, but he rose from the water, the beads on his skin already drying in the inescapable desert heat. Izzy averted his eyes as Slash wrapped a length of gauzy white cloth around his waist, tugged a loose shirt over his head, and bent forward to twist another cloth around his damp hair. Then, finally, he turned to face his guests. "Is this...?"

"This is Duff, the Wretched. Not a War Boy. He came from Gas Town, so he can drive."

"Good." Duff was staring at Slash like a mirage, but Slash knew how to get on a person's good side: "Do you want some water, Duff?"

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" In a heartbeat, Izzy's handgun was aimed at the War Boy's head. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "Slash, get away from him."

"No! You can't kill Steven!"

"He knows too much, he's a liability. Kill him and let's go," Axl advised.

"No! Stradlin, who even is this guy?" Slash demanded, but once again, he received no explanation.

"Slash, what's going on, where are you going? Please don't leave me!"

"Steven, I –"

"Take me with you! I can help!"

"Slash, I'm serious. Step away." Izzy inched closer, his gun unwavering. War Boys were unpredictable, Kami-crazy. You never knew what they might do when backed into a corner.

But Slash was crazier – he pushed Steven back, placing himself between Izzy and his target. Izzy recognized the steely glint in his eyes before Slash even spoke: "He's coming with us."

They were curled up in the hold of the War Rig, surrounded by food and supplies that would never make it to Gas Town like they were supposed to. Duff was happily munching away at a carrot, and Slash was sitting with his legs curled up to his chest.

"Are you scared?" Duff asked.

"... Yes," Slash admitted, barely audible over the roaring engine. "Are you?"

"No."

"Why not? If we get caught, you'll be punished too, for helping me. And he doesn't care about taking you alive."

Duff shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, does it? I've got a few months left, at best."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've had my whole life to come to terms with it. Well, half-life."

It was a terribly morbid joke, but Slash still laughed.

“So... You’re not afraid of anything, then?”

“Well, I don’t know – When Izzy brought me to you, I was scared. It was like he’d taken me out of the real world and dropped me in a fantasy. I thought if I touched anything, I’d destroy it; if I spoke, I’d break the spell and wake up in the Wasteland, half dead with a crow pecking at my tongue. I thought if I got too close to you, I'd pass on my illness, and if I looked at you too long, I'd go mad and start believing in things like beauty and health and the goodness of humanity."

Slash could have laughed at the momentous gap between Duff's perception of the biodome and his own. Instead, when Duff finished his recollection, Slash crawled across the middle of the hold and pressed himself against Duff's side.

Duff tried to scoot away, but Slash entangled him with the soft touch of fine cloth and uncalloused hands. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s thin torso and laid his head on his shoulder.

“No, don't go. You don't have to be scared, Duff... You're the cleanest person to touch me in a long time."

Hesitantly, Duff reached up and let his good hand rest on Slash’s back. Slash’s hair brushed against his collar, even softer than his clothes, and when Duff breathed deeply he could still make out the sweet scent that filled the room when they first met.

For a moment, Duff let himself get lost in the fantasy world that still surrounded Slash, even in the hold of the War Rig, miles from the Citadel. He could forget about the danger they were in, the cruelty they’d experienced, and even the ticking time bombs in his own flesh.

“Do you think your baby will survive?”

“I don’t know.” Slash didn’t sound optimistic, he toyed with his sleeve and avoided Duff’s gaze.

“I’ve never seen a completely healthy baby before, I didn’t think it was possible. But then I saw you, and you’re perfect, so maybe...”

Slash scoffed.

“The Immortan is toxic. He taints everything: the water, the people... and me. If I was ever perfect, I’m sure as hell not anymore, and neither is this baby.”

Duff hugged Slash closer, and slid a hand down to his belly.

“We’ll see.”

----

[part 2]

#title from paradise city #this fic is so much longer than my usual omg #sodafics #gnr fanfic #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #slash #saul hudson #steven adler #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #axl rose #mad max #mad max au #sorry to whoever follows the mad max tag and did not want to see this...

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iamtrebleclefstories · 4 years ago

Text

I Was Made For Loving You - Part 3

Soulmate AU series of unrelated one-shots where Jo and Alex discover that they are made for each other.

where you have a clock counting down the minutes

Please enjoy this insanely long monstrosity of a fic :)

Part 3 - I Was Made for Loving You

The day his clock showed up, he was excited. At the age of thirteen, he’d been a little older than most. For a while, he didn’t think he had a soulmate. Most other kids got their clocks at twelve years old. Yet on his twelfth birthday, when he woke up and saw his empty wrist he was disappointed to see that his hadn’t. No, instead his clock showed up on a random Tuesday morning, about four months after his thirteenth birthday. His excitement was short-lived though. Because according to his clock, he wouldn’t meet his soulmate for at least two decades.

20:05:17:6:49

Twenty years, five months, seventeen days, six hours, and forty-nine minutes away to be exact. He’d be thirty-three by the time he met the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. This didn’t sit right with Alex. He’d thought for sure the universe would favor him considering he’d had the crappiest childhood. The least the universe could do was grant him a soulmate sooner than twenty years from now.

It was frustrating when he got to college and it felt like everyone he knew was meeting their soulmate. It was even more frustrating when he got to medical school and the majority of his friends were in nice, loving, soul-bonded relationships while he was out partying and sleeping around. He’d never admit it, but as fun as sleeping around was, all Alex had ever wanted was the sureness and clarity of a soulmate bond. His whole life, he wondered what it was like to be loved for exactly who he was. He wondered what it was like to have someone stay. He wondered what it was like to have someone sane. The partying and the girls just so happened to serve as a useful distraction for the fact that he was years away from meeting the one person who just might stick around.

When he started working at Seattle Grace, he didn’t do much to change who he was. If anything, he was worse than before. With only seven years, three months, five days, ten hours, and thirty-six minutes left to meet his soulmate, Alex was growing even more restless. He couldn’t handle the idea of walking around the hospital as all of his friends met their soulmates before he did. Meredith had already met her’s, Izzie’s clock said that she was three months away, Cristina’s clock said one year left, and George’s said two years.

There wasn’t much time left for them to wait. The sad and funny thing was that some of his friends found themselves in relationships with someone other than their soulmate. Meredith was trying to get over McDreamy, Cristina was doing it with Burke, George was in love with Meredith, and Izzie had tried going out with him despite the fact that she was supposed to meet her guy very soon. It kind of sucked too, because he could see himself liking her enough to actually try something more than a one night stand.

Knowing that Izzie would be meeting her soulmate very soon didn’t make it much easier when she finally did. The guy came in the form of a bedridden cardiac patient who was on the brink of death. If Alex thought the universe was screwed up for making him wait so long to meet his soulmate, it was even more screwed up for giving Izzie a soulmate that might not live past his next surgery. That was all kinds of messed up and shitty that he didn’t even want to go into. As horrible as it sounded though, he hoped that maybe Izzie’s soulmate would kick the bucket and die. Then maybe he’d have a chance at something more than just meaningless.

And they did get the chance at it. Denny died and Izzie was a wreck. She ended up making some questionable decisions, got George to cheat on his wife—but not his soulmate—with her, and nearly got herself fired multiple times over. Alex on the other hand, had lived through a hookup with Addison Montgomery, a strange—regrettable—relationship with a patient by the name of Rebecca Pope, and had even hooked up with Meredith’s sister Lexie a couple times. So when they finally got together, Alex thought that this could be it. Maybe it could be enough. Maybe Izzie could be enough for him, and he could be enough for her.

Things didn’t go as planned, though. Izzie got cancer and started hallucinating Denny. So they got married and tried to make the best out of a bad situation, then George died on the very day he was supposed to meet his soulmate—saving her life apparently. He doesn’t know if it was the cancer or the soul bond that attached her to Denny that caused it or even her friendship with O’Malley, but one morning he woke up and she didn’t. Alex woke up and turned around to shake Izzie awake, but she wouldn’t wake up. Her body was cold. She’d died sometime in the middle of the night and he never noticed.

That stuck with him for a long time. He felt like he should’ve been able to save her. He was a doctor for crying out loud. A doctor whose wife died in her sleep as he laid right beside her. He was a widower now and it was hell. His heart ached and he became a bigger asshole than before. And hence started the string of endless women all over again. He tried to date Lexie Grey, and it worked for a little while. But then the shooting happened and Lexie went crazy and Alex was trying to understand how he survived and so many others didn’t. He added that to his laundry list of failed attempts at love.

Then there was Lucy—the one who stole his job. After that he gave up on trying to have a real relationship. He realized it was pointless to try making a connection with someone that wasn’t soulmate. All it brought was hurt and pain that he didn’t have the patience for. He slept around again, waiting for the moment when he’d finally meet his soulmate and maybe, just maybe, he search would be over.

The week before he was supposed to meet his soulmate, he decided to take advantage of the little bit of time he had left and slept with a lot of the new interns. Sure, he felt a little bad every time he looked down at his wrist, but he was trying to brace himself for the worst case scenario. The worst case scenario being that his soulmate hated him or that she was a horrible person and they didn’t work out. If his worst fears came true he wanted to at least have something to soften the blow. It may sound depressing, but that’s how it worked. And Alex had been through enough in his life to know that life was rarely ever fair or full of hope.

*****

She was sixteen when her clock finally showed up on her wrist. For the longest time, she thought that maybe there just wasn’t someone out there for her. Most kids got their clocks at twelve years old. They’d wake up the morning of their twelfth birthday to find a clock there counting down the years, months, days, hours, and minutes until one met their soulmate. She tried to tell herself not to be discouraged. After all, she’d been left at a fire station as an infant. Who knows when her real birthday was? So, for about two weeks she held onto the tiniest bit of hope that one day she’d wake up and it would be there.

When the clock didn’t come in, it only reinforced everything she’d ever believe about herself. That she was unlovable. She was broken. She was unwanted. She was a waste of space. Those feelings intensified when her peers realized that her clock was missing. They made up mean jokes and rumors about soulmate-less Brooke. It was so bad that the family she’d been staying with at the time sent her away. They didn’t want a “defective” child in their home.

For about four years, she wore long sleeves. She didn’t want anyone to see her wrist. She didn’t want to see her own wrist and be reminded of the fact that she had no one in this world. That’s why it was such a surprise when her clock showed up on her wrist.

She remembered the day vividly. It was four in the morning and she’d been attempting to get some sleep while she heard the junkies talking outside her car. She’d just burrowed a little further into her blankets in an effort to cover herself so that no one would realize she was living there when she felt it. There was a dull ache in her wrist and then the sound of a clock chiming. After the sounding stopped, she was scared to look down. She was scared to look and realize that it had all been a figment of her imagination.

It wasn’t though. It was definitely there. The clock displayed the numbers brightly on her wrist for all to see. The countdown to meeting her soulmate was there. It was real. She had someone. For the first time in her life she thought that maybe she’d have someone. But when she realized the number of years before she’d meet him, she grew discouraged. Ten years was a long time. A very long time.

10:02:30:8:57

Of course she’d have to wait a decade to meet her soulmate. As if her life wasn’t already difficult, as if she didn’t need for someone to love her right now. Maybe that’s why she got caught up with Paul in the first place. She just wanted so badly for someone to love her that she ended up in an abusive marriage for about two years before she did something about it.

Of all the decisions she’d made in her life, getting with Paul was the worst one. He was harsh and hateful and deceptively charming. He’d told her exactly what she wanted to hear and she believed him. She ate up every false promise and calculated compliment. Her friends had not been happy with her, but she didn’t care. They told her to wait, to hold out for her soulmate, but Brooke wasn’t sure she believed in them anymore.

Paul didn’t have a soulmate. He was one of the very few people in the world that didn’t have a clock at all. He’d convinced her that it was all a fantasy. A childish daydream that would soon fade away like everything else in the world. For the most part, she believed him.

A part of her tried to hold on to the hope that maybe there was someone better for her out there than Paul. It all changed when she became a mother, though. The only thing that was supposed to be stronger than a soul bond was the bond between parents and their children. She could not possibly understand how or why her mother had abandoned her like she did. She couldn’t comprehend how you’d let go because the moment she held her child in her arms, she knew that she’d never be able to give this up.

The road to motherhood wasn’t easy, though. It was full of pain and suffering and complications she’d never anticipated. Originally, she wasn’t going to keep the baby. She had decided that after being beaten so bad that she had landed in the hospital. There was no way she could raise a child in the environment she was living in. For weeks, she walked around fearful of the decision that was looming over her. One day, while she was in the car with Paul they got into a horrible accident. She’d made it out mostly okay. Paul on the other hand sustained a severe injuries and was declared dead on arrival.

The death of her husband was not sad for her. If anything, it was liberating. She was a pregnant senior in college and suddenly inherited all of his money and his property. Of course, she was alone again, but for the first time in her life loneliness didn’t seem as daunting. As soon as she graduated with her degree in biology, she sold the house, their rings, and all of Paul’s belongings and hauled ass out of New Jersey.

She was about seven months pregnant when she finally moved into her brand new apartment in Boston. For a while after moving, she grappled with her identity. She didn’t want anything tying her to the life she’d left behind. She didn’t want her child to bear the legacy of hurt and pain that she’d left. Brooke Stadler didn’t feel like her anymore. That name was attached to the despair that she vowed to leave behind for the sake of the life she was about to bring into the world.

It was during one quest for baby names when she stumbled upon one that resonated with her. Josephine, God will increase. Jo, for short. Yes, that was it. No more standing back and letting people take advantage of her. She would increase. She would grow so tall that she would make a fool out of anyone who ever said she would never be enough.

So, she became Josephine. A last name would be a little more difficult. Jo knew that she didn’t want to keep the last name Stadler. She briefly considered Schmidt—after her high school teacher whom she had kept in contact with, but decided against that. She settled on Wilson. It was the name of the chief of the fire station where she’d been left as a child. That was it. That was her name. Josephine Brooke Wilson.

Her name change was approved about a week before she gave birth to her son on July 16, 2007. Yes, she had a boy. A little boy with the sweetest dimples and the craziest head full of hair. He had her eyes and her nose and her ears. Jo fell in love with him instantly. At twenty-two years old she became a mother to the most beautiful baby boy she’d ever laid eyes on.

She named him Liam Michael Wilson. Liam was a good baby, and she was grateful for that. It was difficult raising a child on her own while simultaneously trying to do well in med school. Harvard Medical School, to be specific. In the mornings she’d drop Liam off at daycare and pick him up after her classes were over. Her life consisted of going to school, being a mom, and working part time at the daycare Liam attended. She didn’t go out or party. She didn’t sleep around or start anything serious. There was no time and she definitely did not have the motivation to try harder.

On the day of her medical school graduation, she walked across the stage hand in hand with her almost four year old son. She smiled wide and almost cried after her son told her how proud he was of her. She’d done it. She was finally a doctor.

And so began the next chapter of their lives. Jo had matched with Seattle Grace Mercy West’s surgical residency program. She was excited and nervous at the thought of moving across the country with her son. Her whole life, she’d lived on the east coast. It was time to leave this place and move on to the next thing.

*****

“Today’s the day,” Jackson walked into the attendings lounge and clapped Alex on the back.

“What’s today?” Webber asked as he poured himself some coffee.

“Today’s the day Evil Spawn gets to meet his soulmate,” Cristina supplied.

April gasped, “Oh my goodness! Finally.”

“Yeah it only took him thirty-three years,” Meredith snickered as she put her stuff into her locker.

"Awe, Karev is becoming a man today," Mark teased and slapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Maybe this means he’ll stop being an ass that sleeps with all the interns,” Callie called out from her spot on the couch.

“Oh shush. Might I remind you that you slept with me once. So, you're no better,” Alex sent Callie a pointed look.

“And now I no longer sleep with men,” Callie lifted her hands in mock surprise.

The room full of doctors laughed at Callie's comment. Alex on the other hand rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You guys are way too invested in this soulmate thing."

"Because we all already found ours. We want you to be happy. You of all people deserves something happy," Meredith smiled warmly at Alex. "So, stop complaining and let us be happy and excited for you."

Alex knew that his friends just wanted what was best for him. They'd been by his side through a lot of really crappy things. When his wife died, Meredith opened up her home again for him to stay. Cristina hugged him—which was a miracle in and of itself. Kepner and Avery, who he wasn't even close to made it very clear that they would be there for him if he needed it. So many more of his friends and colleagues did the same.

“How much time do you have left on your clock?” Bailey asked, trying to get as many details from Alex as possible.

Alex looked down at his clock and read the numbers. It was strange to see mostly zeros. For years, he’d seen the clock full of numbers counting down very slowly. Today though, it seems as if the time had flown by.

00:00:00:04:37

“Four hours and thirty-seven minutes,” Alex replied. “Which means that you all will be too busy doing your jobs to pay attention to me when I meet her. If this is even real and I meet her.”

Meanwhile, Jo was in the locker room with her fellow interns getting ready for the day. She had just taken off her shirt and was about to put her scrub top on when she heard Stephanie gasp and grab her arm, “Oh my God.

Today is the day. Guys, Jo meets her soulmate today!”

“Really?” Leah jumped up and squealed. “No why didn’t you say anything? We would’ve made a big deal about it.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t,” Jo removed her hand from Stephanie’s grasp and continued to get dressed for the day. “It’s not that big of a deal. Calm down.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Stephanie looked at her as if she had three heads. “Jo. This is a huge deal. This is it. This is the most important day of your life. Why aren’t you more excited about this?”

“Look, I’ve been burned one to many times in my life. It’s all a scam. It doesn’t mean anything,” Jo shook her head. “And it’s not the most important day of my life. The most important day of my life was the day I gave birth to my son. That’s the most important bond. It’s more important and stronger than a soul bond. So, unless my soulmate magically bonds with my son, then it’s meaningless.”

Shane looked at Jo sadly, “There’s nothing wrong with trying find your own version of happiness. You’re allowed to let yourself be loved.”

“Yeah,” Heather agreed. “You of all people deserves to meet their person.”

“How much time is left on your clock?” Leah asked.

Sighing Jo looked down and read it out loud, “Four hours and thirty-seven minutes.”

00:00:00:04:37

“I wonder who it is,” Heather tilted her head to the side. “You’d have to meet him here in the hospital. Maybe it’s another doctor or a nurse. Ooh! Maybe even a patient! I’ve heard a couple stories of a few doctors that used to work here before us that met their soulmates while they were patients in the hospital.”

“Gosh, I hope not,” Jo’s eyes widened. “I have a kid. I don’t have time to take care of a sick soulmate.”

“I highly doubt it’s going to be a patient,” Stephanie assured. “It’s probably one another doctor. Which doctors are still single?”

“Well, there’s Franklin from derm, Harrison from anesthesiology, that one guy Myers from OB, Johnson and Archer from Radiology, some others I don’t remember, and Karev," Leah replied.

"How do you even know that?" Jo made a face. "Actually, I don't want to know."

"She probably slept with all of them," Stephanie smirked.

Leah shrugged, "Hey, I don't meet my soulmate for two more years. I'm taking advantage of all the freedom I have left."

"No offense, but I don't want your sloppy seconds," Jo closed her locker and put on her lab coat. "I haven't had sex in... I can't even remember. But, I would still prefer it if my soulmate didn't sleep with all of my friends first."

"I don't know, I kind of hope my soulmate is a manwhore," Heather thought out loud. The others turned to look at her strangely. "What? I do. That means he'll be good in bed. That's important. I'm going to be stuck with him for the rest of my life. He's got to know what he's doing."

The interns busted out in laughter and chatted for a few more minutes before their resident, Lexie Grey walked in, “Hey guys. Today you all start new rotations so listen out for your assignments. Edwards you’re with Grey, Ross with Avery, Brooks with Bailey, Murphy with Robbins, and Wilson you’re with Yang.”

The interns nodded and all made their ways to find their attendings. Jo walked over to where Yang was standing in the Cardiac ICU and smiled warmly, “Dr. Yang, I’m on your service today.”

“Oh yes, Wilson right? I’ve heard some good things about you from Hunt and Torres. Make sure you keep up and don’t screw anything up,” Cristina instructed. “I’ve got things to do and lots of patients to see so there’s no time for messing around. Come on, before we’re late for rounds.”

The next few hours were okay. Jo mostly kept an eye on Yang’s pre and post ops while Yang worked on studying for a new procedure she was going to preform later that afternoon. The day was going by so smoothly that she forgot to take a look at her clock to see how much time was left. She was about to look down when she heard her pager go off, Pit 911. Jo jumped up from her seat at the nurse’s station and hurried down to the ER, Dr. Yang following close behind her.

They pulled on their trauma gowns and hurried into the trauma room they’d been paged to. The room was a buzz with multiple doctors from various specialties looking at a kid who seemed to be somewhere around eleven or twelve. Derek Shepherd was there, Kepner was there, Torres was there, and Karev.

“What do we got?” Yang asked as she walked into the room.

“Brandon Miller, eleven years old. He jumped off a balcony while on a school field trip because his friends dared him to,” Karev sounded off, not looking up from the kid he was examining. “He’s got splenic rupture that I’m going to have go in and repair, wrist fracture, an injury to his spine that’s putting pressure on the cord, a few broken ribs and a pneumothorax. I need you to run an echo on his heart to see if he can even withstand the stress of surgery.”

For some reason, Jo’s heart rate picked up a little when she heard his voice. She’s seen Karev from afar, but in the past few months that she’d been working at Seattle Grace Mercy West, she’d never been on his service before. He seemed like a great doctor. She’d heard wonderful things about the projects he’d established and his dedication and commitment to his patients. She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Karev yell out instructions.

“Can someone insert a damn chest tube?”

Yang looked at Jo and motioned to get to work, “Wilson, you know how to insert a chest tube?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jo nodded.

“Okay, then do it. We don’t have time to waste,” Yang commanded.

Jo looked around the room for the supplies and was handed a tray by one of the nurses. She made her way up towards the kid and proceeded to insert the tube. She was about to move out of the way when bumped into Karev.

“Do you mind?” Karev sneered gave her a sideways glance. He didn’t have time for this. He wanted to get out of this trauma room as quickly as possible. He was supposed to meet his soulmate any minute now, and he couldn’t do that if he was stuck in here fixing a kid in a room full of all his friends. He couldn’t miss their encounter. He’d been waiting for this exact moment for decades and he’d be damned if he missed it because some intern was in his way.

“Sorry,” Jo apologized.

Alex felt a jolt of electricity run through him as he heard her voice. Looking up, he finally decided to spare more than a quick glance at the intern. Feeling that someone’s eyes were on her, Jo looked up and locked eyes with Karev. She felt her heart and breathing pick up, then skip a few beats, before returning to normal. Alex felt a stirring within his chest and stopped what he was doing to stare at her for just a moment.

That’s when the dinging started. It was a low chime sort of sound. It grew progressively louder and was getting on Alex’s nerves. He broke eye contact with the intern and looked around for the source of the noise. With all the commotion, he was unsure if anyone else heard it. He looked around at the monitors the kid had strapped to him, trying to determine what was going off.

“What the hell is that noise? Can someone please figure out what freaking monitor is making that weird noise and turn it off?” Alex growled in annoyance.

His request made the room go quiet, allowing everyone to hear for themselves exactly what was going on. Alex watched as one by one, all of his friends’ eyes widened in surprise. They looked at each other strangely, not saying anything.

“Will someone please turn that freaking monitor off?” Alex continued to work on stabilizing the kid’s injuries.

“Dr. Karev, that’s not one of the monitors,” nurse Tyler spoke, motioning to Alex’s clock that was covered by his trauma gown.

He stepped away from his patient and pulled up the sleeve of his trauma gown. His numbers were at zero. How the hell were his numbers at zero? When did he meet her? He’d been stuck in this room for the past half hour. He was in a room full of friends and veteran nurses he’d known for years.

Jo took a deep breath when she realized what happened. She removed her own sleeve and looked at the clock on her wrist. Sure enough, all zeros. Jo froze in fear and confusion as a steady ding came from her clock. After a couple seconds, she looked up at Karev who was still lost in thought.

There was a gasp somewhere in the background. It sounded like Kepner, “Oh. My. God.”

“Holy shit,” Yang’s voice rang out.

“Woah!” Torres exclaimed.

“I’ll be damned,” Shepherd chuckled.

A couple of the nurses mumbled their own surprise as Jo continued to stare at her supposed soulmate with wide eyes. Finally, after a few seconds, he looked up at her.

Jo felt it immediately. She felt the bond attach itself instantly. The thing that she’d convinced herself wasn’t real, the thing that seemed too much like a fairy tale to actually exist in real life, was happening to her. It all made sense. The shivers and butterflies she felt when she heard his voice. The heart palpitations she experienced and the sensation of breathlessness, were all her body’s way of syncing up their heart beats.

Alex couldn’t believe it. He did meet her. She was here. She was the intern he’d bumped into. He’d been so caught up and desperate to meet her that when he did, he missed it. But then it made sense. The jolt of electricity he felt when he heard her speak. The captivating call of her eyes. Her gorgeous, hazel eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen more beautiful eyes. The longer he looked into them, the more he felt the soul bond increase. It was strong, and unlike anything he’d ever really experienced before. It was instant and all consuming. It was real.

Soon, the dinging ceased. It was no longer needed. They had acknowledged each other. They had met.

*****

They never had a chance to talk after that moment. Brandon—the kid—began de-sating and needed to be rushed to the OR immediately. The echo he’d called Cristina in to run would have to wait. There was no time to waste, or he wouldn’t make it. It killed Alex to leave without being able to say anything to her. He wanted to get to know her and hear her story. He barely knew her name—and it was only because he asked while on his way to the OR with Torres, Kepner, and Shepherd. They hadn’t stopped talking about his soulmate throughout the entire time he was in the operating room. Thankfully, he and April were able to resolve the kid’s internal bleeding, leaving Shepherd and Torres to do the real work and try to keep Brandon from being paralyzed.

Alex wanted to find her. Jo Wilson. That was her name. He asked around before he was directed to the OR board. Sure enough, her name was listed as the resident in OR 4 with Cristina. In the hours he’d been in surgery, she’d been pulled into one of her own. Sighing, Alex decided that he could use this time to talk to someone. He needed to vent. He needed to find Meredith.

He ran around the hospital for about half hour before realizing where she was. Alex made his way to the hospital daycare and smiled as he showed his ID and walked to where Meredith was playing with Zola. Meredith was sitting on a bean bag chair while Zola was on the floor working on a puzzle. He hurried over to the corner they were in and sat in the bean bag chair across from Meredith.

“Dude, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“What is it Alex? I’m trying to spend what little free time I have with my daughter. Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t,” Alex rolled up the sleeve of his lab coat and showed her his arm. “I met her.”

“Oh my God!” Meredith gasped and dropped the barbie doll that was in her hand. “You met her? Who is she?”

“She’s an intern. Jo Wilson,” Alex shared. “I don’t really know a lot about her. I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her because my patient needed to get up to the OR because he was de-sating on us.”

“Wilson is your soulmate?” Meredith’s eyes widened. “She was the intern I picked for the intern appy. She did really well until she freaked out and froze, but I think she’ll make it. You can normally tell who’s going to make it and who isn’t. She hasn’t given me any reason to believe otherwise. What are you doing here talking to me? Go find her.”

“I did try to find her. But then I found out she was in OR 4 with Cristina, who just so happened to be there when we met,” Alex grimaced.

Meredith let out a peel of laughter, “Oh, Cristina is never going to let you live it down. She’s probably airing out all your dirty laundry as we speak. Who knows what she’s told Wilson about you?”

Alex narrowed his eyes, “Oh shush. I sure hope not. I don’t need my soulmate thinking that I’m an ass before she even meets me.”

“Hey! There are children present. Language!” Meredith warned motioning to the children playing around them.

“You act as if I don’t work with children all day.”

Meredith rolled her eyes. Being friends with Alex really was a pain sometimes, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was happy for him. He’d finally met his soulmate. He was finally going to get the happiness he deserved. She just hoped that the universe knew what it was doing when it chose Jo Wilson as his soulmate, “Hold on… you said your soulmate is one of the interns?”

“Yeah? So what? You were an intern when you met Derek,” Alex shrugged. “It happens.”

“No, I know that. That’s not what I’m talking about,” Meredith shook her head. “Didn’t you sleep with half the intern class?”

“Oh crap… You don’t think she knows, right?”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you remember what it was like to be an intern? Gossip around here spreads like wildfire,” Meredith leaned back in her bean bag chair. “I’m positive she knows exactly how many of her friends you’ve slept with.”

“Which means she already knows how big of a douche I am,” Alex groaned. “You know, on some level, I always knew that being a man-whore was going to come back and bite me in the ass.”

Meredith was going to open her mouth to respond when they heard a crash followed by a child crying in the background. Being the peds surgeon that he was, Alex jumped up from his bean bag chair and scanned the room for the source of the crying. There was a young woman holding a boy who looked to be about four. He had a nasty head lac that would probably need stitches.

“Can someone get ahold of an intern to come take a look at this kid? And page his parents?” One of the daycare workers yelled out.

Not wanting an intern working on this kid’s face, Alex decided to step in, “Hey. No need to call an intern. I’m a peds surgeon. I’ll take a look at him and get him stitched up. You don’t need an intern leaving a nasty scar on his face. Just page his parents while I check him out.”

The daycare instructor, Bethany, nodded in appreciation and Alex walked them over to a nearby exam room. He asked a nurse to bring him a suture kit and had Bethany place the crying boy on the bed. The kid was cute. He had wild brown hair and big hazel eyes that looked up at him in awe and wonder, “Hey kiddo, my name is Dr. Alex. What’s yours?”

“Liam,” the little boy responded, the tears that had once been running down his face now dried.

For some reason, Alex felt a connection to this kid. He couldn’t explain it. Of course, he’d bonded with patients in the past, but this was different. He’d known this boy for all of two minutes and already felt his protective instincts kick in. Alex decided to try to make some conversation, “Well, hi Liam. I see that you hurt your head a bit there. Do you think you can follow some instructions that I give you?”

Liam attempted a nod but winced in pain a bit, “Yes Dr. Awex.”

Alex seriously did not know what was wrong with him. Every time this little boy opened his mouth, he felt the love and affection he had for him increase. What the hell is wrong you? He’s not even your kid. You find your soulmate and all of a sudden you are overwhelmed by the desire to procreate? Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Alex looked over to Bethany, “Can you go make sure one of his parents are on their way? I’m going to do a quick neuro exam and some stitches. They might want to be here for that.”

The two boys watched as Bethany nodded and walked out the room. Liam looked back up at Alex, “Is she getting my mommy?”

“Yeah buddy, she is. Now how about you say we make sure you didn’t hit your head too hard when you fell,” Alex proceeded to go about his exam while trying to divert Liam’s attention from the needles he was about to use to close up the head lac.

Meanwhile in OR 4, Jo had been trying her best to ignore the looks and questions Dr. Yang was sending her way. The first two hours had been mostly quiet, with Yang only speaking in order to teach or give instructions. Now that they were entering their third hour in surgery, Yang seemed to have loosened up a little bit, “Oh come on, give me something. You are Alex Karev’s soulmate, who just so happens to be one of my best friends. I care about him and I love him—if you ever say that I will deny it. What’s your story?”

This was getting tiring. All Jo wanted was to distract Yang long enough to stop asking questions. Jo was this close to giving in and answering Yang’s questions when a nurse rushed into the room, “Dr. Wilson, Ms. Bethany from daycare called to let you know that your son fell and sustained a head injury. He’s being checked out by a doctor in an exam room nearby the daycare. The doctor said that he’s okay, but he’s going to require some stitches.”

Jo looked up at the nurse with a panicked expression, “Oh my God. What the hell happened?”

“I’m not sure of all the details, but your son was requesting your presence.”

“Well that explains part of the story,” Cristina mumbled to herself. She looked over at the intern standing in front of her. “Go, take care of your kid. We’ll be okay here. Take the rest of the day off while you’re at it.”

“Thank you so much Dr. Yang,” Jo rushed out of the OR and scrubbed out quickly. She hurried out of the scrub room into the hallway and made her way to the elevators. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the elevator to arrive.

As soon as she made it to the daycare, Jo asked for her son’s whereabouts. She had finally reached the door of the exam room when she heard a familiar peel of laughter on the other side. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that her son was laughing and steadied herself as she opened the door.

Alex had been having the time of his life stitching Liam’s head lac up. Sure, he was great with kids, his job required it. But spending time with this kid is different. Alex was sure that he’d never clicked with a kid as much as this one. And he was kind of hilarious. The four-year-old was very bright for his age and had a sense of humor better than most adults. In the fifteen minutes that had passed, Alex learned that he and Liam had the same favorite color (green), favorite ice cream flavor (s’mores), they even shared a middle name. On top of that they were both obsessed with babies—Alex was a peds surgeon and Liam said that he was constantly asking his mom when they would have a baby.

Alex had just promised to sneak Liam up to the hospital nursery when the door opened. With his back was to the door, Alex spoke to the parent he’d assumed had walked in, “Oh, hey. I’m Dr. Karev. I just was in the daycare visiting my niece when your son fell. He got a few stitches, but other than that he’s just fine.”

Finally turning around, Alex came face to face with his wide-eyed soulmate. Confused, he stared at her dumbly as she stood unmoving like a deer in headlights. The moment was broken when Liam look up and grinned, “Mommy!”

Breaking out of her trance, Jo looked up at the little boy sitting on the exam table, “Hey baby! I heard you took a fall in daycare. Are you okay?”

“Yup,” Liam nodded happily. “Dr. Awex fixed me up! He’s so funny, mommy. We wike wots of the same tings and he pwomised to take me to see the babies!”

“Really? You love babies don’t you,” Jo smiled at her son and glanced quickly at Alex.

“Uh huh! Dr. Awex fixes babies,” Liam grinned brightly. “I want to fix babies too!”

“You do, huh? Well, I’m sure he’d love to teach you one day,” Jo wrapped her son in her arms and hugged him closed. She looked up at Alex, “Was he good?”

“Oh yeah, he was great,” Alex gave her one of his crooked grins. “So, he’s yours?”

“Yeah, I had him a couple months before I started med school. It’s just us,” Jo felt her heart pick up in speed the more she looked at him. If this whole soulmate thing was true, the Jo was sure that his heart was beating equally as quickly. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Of course,” Alex took a deep breath. This was all too surreal. He was standing in an exam room with his soulmate and her son and he’d never felt more at home. He didn’t want this to end. “You know, I was telling Liam here that maybe I’d try to get him some ice cream. What if we all go together? I know this really great place a couple blocks away. I’ve taken my niece, Zola there a couple times and she loves it.”

Jo felt like she was dreaming. There was no way this was real. There was no way that her soulmate wanted to take her and her son out for ice cream. This didn’t happen in real life. It only happened in all the rom coms she’d grown to despise over the years. Men were never this good, but somehow, she could tell that Alex was. Jo turned to her son who looked at her with pleading eyes. Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to say no, she smiled, “I think the two of us would like that very much.”

And they did enjoy it. The trio looked like the sweetest little family as they went out for ice cream that night. Both Jo and Alex had been commented to on separate occasions by multiple people regarding their adorable dynamics. It was almost strange how normal it felt to be out and about with each other. Maybe it was because Liam was there acting as a buffer, but neither Jo nor Alex could remember why they’d been skeptical in the first place.

Alex offered to give Jo and Liam a ride home after leaving the ice cream parlor. They’d taken the bus to the hospital that morning and Jo had been planning on taking it back when Alex insisted on getting them home safely. When they finally arrived at Jo’s apartment, Liam refused to go inside and go to sleep unless Alex tucked him into bed. Jo had tried reasoning with Liam, but Alex assured her that it was fine, and he wouldn’t mind reading Liam a bedtime story or two.

So, that’s how she found herself standing in the doorway of her son’s room, watching as her new soulmate laughed with her son as he read a book to Liam. Jo’s heart fluttered at the scene. Her soulmate and her son had bonded in a matter of hours. Her soulmate actually existed and he was here in her home, tucking her son into bed as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

When Alex was done, he pulled the covers up over Liam’s small frame and ruffled his hair. He turned off the light and walked out the door, finding Jo standing in the living room. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jo breathed out a shaky breath. “Thanks for… everything today. You really didn’t have to do all that.”

“It was nothing,” Alex shrugged bashfully. “I—uh, I had fun.”

The stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, each person staring at the ground. It’s wasn’t that they didn’t have anything to say, it was that there were too many things to say and neither one of them know where to start.

"You don't have to do this," Jo shook her head. "I come with a lot of baggage, more than you probably bargained for. I have a very complicated past and I don't trust people easily. On top of that, have a kid. He's the most important person in my life. So if you don't think you can handle all that, it's okay. I won't hold it against you. I'm giving you an out."

Alex looked at her curiously, "Are you free tomorrow night?"

"What?" Jo scrunched her eyebrows.

"Are you free tomorrow night?” Alex repeated.

“Uh—yeah,” Jo looked at him strangely. “Why?”

“Go out with me tomorrow, just us. I can ask Meredith if she can babysit. Liam can play with Zola,” Alex offered.

Jo could feel her heart beating wildly. The nerves in her stomach increasing, “Okay.”

*****

The date was a disaster. Everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong. To be fair, Alex wasn’t really one to go on dates. Which is why he’d enlisted the help of Kepner and Robbins to set up the perfect first date. They had given him a list of suggestions of all the places he could take Jo and all the things they could do.

Of course, nothing went as planned. The restaurant they were going to eat at, didn’t have a table available. The movie they were going to watch was sold out. They missed their ferry, lost their tickets to the Seattle Great Wheel, and got stuck in traffic for about an hour.

Finally deciding to screw it, Alex ordered a pizza and fried chicken, bought a six pack of beer, and drove up to one of the cliffs just outside the city. He grabbed the blanket that was in the trunk of his car and set it outside in the grass. Jo hopped out and put the food and beers on the ground.

They spent some time talking about their pasts. They talked about their upbringing, discovering that they had a lot more in common than they would’ve thought. Alex shared about his first marriage and Jo shared hers. She told him about her name and why she chose it. They’d been making self-deprecating jokes and laughing while stargazing when it started to pour out of nowhere. They laugh and squeal as they hurry back into the car. Alex turned the heater on to help them warm up. He looked back at Jo and grimaced, "I am so sorry. This night has been a disaster. I should’ve known I would’ve screwed it up.”

“Are you kidding?” Jo looked at Alex in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much ever. I’ve had more fun tonight than I have in a long time.”

“Really?” Alex raised his eyebrows. “You don’t care that we’re sitting in my car, soaked, eating pizza and fried chicken while drinking a couple of beers.”

“I don’t mind at all, honestly. I prefer this to fancy restaurants and cheesy movies,” Jo smiled brightly. Looking at Alex, she felt butterflies. She felt seen, she felt heard, she felt happy. “You know, I didn’t believe in all this. I didn’t believe that there was someone out there specifically made for me. I thought it was all a made-up fairytale that people just tried so hard to hold on to because life sucks sometimes. But meeting you, talking to you… I know that I want to do this for the rest of my life.”

“I do too,” Alex gave her a crooked grin. In the past few hours, he knew he’d fallen in love with this woman. “Can I kiss you?”

Jo felt her cheeks heat up. She nodded shyly, “Yes.”

Alex leaned in and pulled Jo into a passionate kiss, leaving her breathless. Nothing had ever felt more right in her life. She wanted to stay here in his arms and never leave and so did he. Alex would give anything to stay in that moment forever.

When they finally broke apart, both were grinning like idiots. Alex tucked a piece of hair behind Jo’s ear, “That was definitely worth the twenty years I spent looking at my clock wishing I could just hurry up and meet you.” He looked at the time on the dashboard of his car. “It’s getting late. We should go pick up Liam at Mer’s and I’ll drop you guys off at your place.”

“Or… we could see if she wouldn’t mind keeping him overnight. He’s probably asleep now anyway. It would be a shame to wake him up,” Jo looked up at him mischievously.

“It would be a shame,” Alex nodded in understanding. His face broke out into a smirk. “Guess I’ll just be taking you home instead.”

******

One year later….

“Okay, you remember the plan?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Liam nodded his little head at Alex. He was jumping with excitement. Today, his Daddy was going to propose to his Mommy. His Daddy wasn’t always his Daddy, though. For a long time, it was just Liam and Mommy. Now, the nice doctor that stitched up his head was his new Daddy and Liam couldn’t be happier. “Will Mommy like the ring?”

“I sure hope so, because I spent a lot of money on that thing,” Alex muttered under his breath. “You’re going to make sure that Mommy walks over here to the fountain when it’s time. Got it?”

“Got it!”

Minutes later, Alex was standing by the fountain in downtown waiting for his son to lead his soulmate to where he was waiting for them. He paced nervously as he watched them round the corner, Liam pulling on his mom’s coat sleeve to get her to hurry. As they approached, Alex took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. He smiled as the two people he loved most in the world came to a halt in front of him.

“Hi,” Alex smiled cheekily.

“Hi,” Jo beamed in return. “What are you doing here? And why are you wearing a suit?”

“I’m here because, I have something to say. And I decided to do it in public with Liam present so that I couldn’t’ chicken out,” Alex chuckled and looked down at the ground before lifting his gaze to meet Jo’s once more. “Jo, from the moment I met you, everything in my life suddenly made sense. Right then, I met the person I knew I was going to love for the rest of my life. You have changed me. I am a better man because of you and Liam. I want to grow old with you. I want to be by your side until we’re old and gray and yelling at each other about who was a better surgeon.”

Jo let out a laugh as tears filled her eyes. Alex leaned in for a brief kiss before finally getting down on one knee, “I love you. So, Jo Wilson, will you marry me?”

Jo’s breath hitched, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes! Alex, I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Mommy and Daddy are getting married!” Liam squealed from where he was standing.

Alex and Jo laughed at Liam’s excitement, “Yeah, we are.”

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years ago

Note

I wanna hearing about Paige's family with #5.

Super detailed questions about your OCs

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

HOO BOI my friend, you have volunteered for an infodump. I’m putting in a read-more cut to prevent dash clogging.

Paige was the second-to-last child out of five, with three brothers and one sister.

Isabelle [Bella, Belle] -- the eldest, Paige’s sister and seven years older than her. Basically ended up as built-in babysitter/second mom. Paige calls her Izzy and is the only one who is allowed to call her that [anyone else will get whacked, including Bella’s husband]. Their relationship when Paige was a kiddo was pretty strained; Paige grew up running wild with her brothers whilst Isabelle, the eldest daughter of a very conservative and publicly religious family, was constantly being watched and judged on how responsible she was and how well she was growing into a ‘lady’ as she was expected to do. Meanwhile Paige, as the younger daughter and surrounded by boys, was excused for more wild behavior and often given a flavor of the ‘boys will be boys’ pass when she got into trouble until she hit puberty and suddenly got whacked in the face with more feminine expectations.

Somewhere in Paige’s early teens, she and Izzy had it out in an honest to goodness, full-on fight, wherein Izzy accused Paige of being a spoiled brat who was incapable of understanding just how hard it was to hold up under everyone’s expectations, and Paige threw it right back by calling those expectations petty bullshit and questioning why Izzy didn’t just toss it all out if she hated being a lady. The two grew apart after that, maintaining some sisterly affection but mostly not getting in each other’s way. Izzy taught Paige how to look after her hair when she started growing it out, taught her how to do make-up, gave her advice on clothes and shoes for interviews, that sort of thing.

They both ultimately stayed at arm’s length until Shaun was born, at which point Izzy had reached out to try and reconnect. She and her husband had been living in Pennsylvania when the bombs fell. Izzy’s family was well off enough that they might have gotten a spot in a vault, but Paige hadn’t been keeping up with them enough to know whether or not they’d registered...

Ethan -- eldest brother, five years older than Paige, she always looked up to him as her cool older brother. He and his friends had a garage band when he was a teen, but he gave it up when their parents put pressure on him to start figuring out something ‘real’ to do with his life. Music became a beloved hobby, noodling about on his guitar when he could get away with it, but never when their father was home, as he’d threatened to smash it on more than one occasion.

Like Isabelle, Ethan was often leaned upon to be more adult than he actually was, looking after his younger siblings but with a touch more wiggle room. Where Isabelle was very much considered the one with full parental authority, and thus expected to enforce the rules to their fullest extent, Ethan allowed Paige, Daniel, and Zach to get away with the occasional mischief with a wink and a smile that assured them he didn’t see anything.

Besides music, Ethan also had a gift of gab that made him excellent at talking himself and his siblings out of any trouble-- something he and Paige shared, and the two would get into deep arguments over tiny things as a kind of sport. At school a teacher encouraged him towards debate club and theater, and he participated in multiple school productions before, again, their parents reminded him that artistic careers were more fantasy than anything to build your life around. Instead, they pushed him towards law, which he fucking hated but attempted to make them happy.

He dropped out after his first year of college, arriving at home with black dyed hair, two tattoos and three piercings he hadn’t had when he left for school, giving their parents the finger, and all but disappearing when Paige was fourteen. Nineteen years old, he was technically an adult, his their parents couldn’t drag him back. Dad doesn’t talk about Ethan, and mom would cry when he was mentioned. Paige worried he died chasing a dream for the longest time, until she left for law school and started getting postcards-- turned out Ethan was still in contact with Izzy, and had embraced his musical career [and all the hardship that came with it] with everything he had.

Last Paige heard, Ethan had been somewhere on the western seaboard when the bombs fell. She finds it unlikely that he, or any descendants of him, survived... though, if he went ghoul, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was still living the traveling musician life two centuries later.

Daniel [Danny] -- middle brother, two years older than Paige, and oldest of the trouble trio. Daniel, Paige, and Zach were always the three making messes together as young kids, running wild, exploring the backwoods on the family farm, finding fun and odd ways to get chores done, and generally being kids. Danny was the tough one out of the three of them; easily the biggest out of all of Paige’s siblings and the one who got in people’s faces if anyone was messing with anyone else in the family.

Danny and Paige frequently butted heads; they were both stubborn as hell and outspoken, and before Paige was expected to be more lady-like it very regularly came to blows. It’s thanks to Danny that Paige knew how to squirm out of most holds by the time she was an adult, even if the other person was larger than her, and exactly which soft spots to shove her elbows or heels into. This tendency towards brawling changed as they got older, however, as Danny realized that Paige was going to be a petite woman her entire life and went out of his way to teach her some honest-to-goodness self-defense tactics after hearing a few of his friends say a few... off color things about his sister.

Danny stayed in Minnesota to attend a trade school, finding work in the automation industry; installing and maintaining machines used for mass manufacture. He married almost immediately out of highschool, and the timing of his first kid suggests that his wife was pregnant before the wedding. Paige kept in contact with him, and Danny actually made the trip out to visit her when Shaun was born. While Paige suspects that he’s dead, unless of course he ended up ghoul, she has occasionally speculated that if Danny and his family survived the initial bombing? He had practical skills that might have seen him through long enough to have descendants that survived to the present day. Zachariah [Zach] -- the youngest, a year younger than Paige and her childhood partner in crime. Zach, like Paige, was kinda on the small side. Unlike Paige, Zach was also intensely shy in a family full of outspoken, opinionated, stubborn mules. It wasn’t that he didn’t have opinions, mind-- rather that he had a lot of trouble putting the words together to express them. Zach would often stick with Paige like her second shadow, because Paige was very good at picking up on what he meant to say to others and saying it for him, or re-iterating when he spoke too quietly and he got ignored.

That said, Zach was often the mastermind behind what he, Paige, and Danny got up to as little kids-- quiet, but quick witted, and a grade-A prankster.

As adolescents, Zach and Paige were occasionally confused for being twins despite there being a year difference between them. Their faces were strikingly similar, with Zach having deeply brown eyes rather than Paige’s hazel being the main difference. Sometimes their mischief would play into this, and Paige was allowed to get away with many things as a young teen simply by virtue of being mistaken for her brother.

When Ethan ran out on the family, Zach was probably the one most deeply effected by it, and Paige did everything she could to support him at the time. They both looked up to Ethan, but Zach even more so because he was also musically inclined and had been learning the drums from one of Ethan’s friends. Sometimes the band even let him do some kind of back-up percussion when they were practicing before their father shut it down, and it was during those practice sessions that Zach tended to really light up. When Ethan left? Zach fell deeply into depression for a long time, and Paige felt like it was her responsibility to hold him up lest she lose another brother.

Despite being the often-overlooked child in the family, Zach had damn near perfect grades... and yet, their parents appeared to lack specific expectation for him. Rather, the had a vague assurance that he’d simply do well at whatever he decided to do, and Zach confided in Paige that he had no idea what to do with his scholastic success-- that it didn’t feel real to him. That he wasn’t a person, but rather a mass of goo that could just be poured into whatever shape worked best for the people around him.

Paige still regrets not having any good advice for him. Last she heard, he’d gone to school to pursue an engineering degree, like their father; imitating a ready example. She suspects that he might have gone after something musical, if not for what happened with Ethan, and that his choice paralysis was a form of avoiding even thinking about that kind of rebellion. Like Danny, Zach’s schooling didn’t take him far from the family home, and he still lived in Minnesota at the time of the bombing. He was, at the time, unmarried. Given time to think further on it, Paige actually suspects that Zach might have been some form of closeted due to still being close to the family and their parents intense involvement with the church. Thinking about that always makes her wish she’d been there for him more, that she’d been smarter and figured out what he’d been dealing with and helped him handle it better.

Like everyone else, Paige is pretty sure Zach is dead... and he’s probably the one she’s mourns the most, because it feels like he never really got to live in the first place.

#Paige #Paige Argot #about Paige #Zach #Izzy #Danny #Ethan #nukaworld-nora #Ask The Author

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tomishaped · 4 years ago

Text

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence • Major Character Death

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Supernatural

Relationship:

Dean Winchester!Izzy Hlton

Characters:

Dean Winchester • Izzy Hilton • Sam Winchester • Asmodeus • Dagon • Demons • Hellhound • Ellen Harvelle • Jo Harvelle • Hunters • Crowley • Charlie Bradbury • Bobby Singer • Ruby • Death • Pestilence • Famine • War • Castiel • Angels • Cain

Additional Tags:

Demon Dean Winchester • Demon Sex • Kidnapping • Gay Sex • Blood • Blood Kink • Hate Sex • Love/Hate • Major Character Injury • Major Original Character(s) • Character Death • Past Child Abuse • Past Rape/Non-con • Past Sexual Abuse • Past Torture • Past Violence • Canon-Typical Violence • Violence • Protective Dean Winchester • Bisexual Dean Winchester • Top Dean Winchester • Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings • Izzy is too • Emotional Hurt/Comfort • Emotional/Psychological Abuse

Summary: After being pulled out of hell Dean realizes quickly that the four months he had been gone made way for a lot of changes in the lives of everyone he knows, including the life he had known for himself before he died. Nobody was treating him the same, and there was seriously something going on with his brother that he could not figure out. He was spending most of his time alone nowadays, not really hunting anymore since Bobby and Sam were against it for him, and spending most of his time drinking instead to try and forget. He was angry, pretty much all the time. That anger really worked in his favour though when walking back to the impala he came across a freaking hoard of demons getting ready to attack some blond chick. He didn't know who she was or what the hell all the demons wanted with her, but there was no way he could just walk away. Maybe if he had any idea what trying to save this person was going to lead too he would have just walked away, maybe if he had actually given any thought to the situation before him he wouldn't have put himself in the middle of it, but even before hell he made impulsive and rash decisions... so maybe not.

Previous Chapters

• Chapter One •

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Chapter Two: Welcome to the Batcave

Part One

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When they had reached the car Dean made quick work of the door locks and got them both inside before he punched it, only leaving squealing tires and smoke behind them as they took off. Dean didn’t start to relax till they were a mile or so away from the group of demons, still keeping an eye on the mirrors though just in case. “You really pissed someone off," he said with a grin as he glanced over at the other while he drove.

Izzy did manage to force himself to relax once they were in the car, though Dean still happened to look tense with the way he was looking out his mirrors for someone. Honestly, it probably helped the demon to relax with the fact that Izrael couldn't feel Dagon as close anymore. She was either losing interest or losing track of them for now, either way that worked for him. "Huh?" He was honestly confused at first when Dean said that, "Why would you think I pissed some- oh! Because of all that? Right. Yeah. They don't seem to fond of me, do they? I should probably stop crashing into their parties like that."

Izrael shifted in the seat a little and rolled his eyes when he saw the man look out his mirrors again, "You can stop doing that now. We're fine, mommy lost us," he said with a shrug, leaning back in the seat again, trying to get comfortable. He was ready to get out of the Winchesters car now, and he would really like to do it without having to kill the hunter next to him in order to keep him from following or trying to track him. Even if he didn't have an issue with killing humans, he didn't know which way Dean's soul would go now and having it back in the pit after he killed him could possibly become… problematic. "So uh, yeah, you can just drop me off whenever now and can go get back too… whatever the hell you were doing before joining me at that lovely party tonight. I'm actually supposed to be at a different party right now anyways, so anywhere is good."

Dean snickered when the other said that they had crashed a few parties, it made sense. He did raise an eyebrow when he was told that the horde had backed off of them. Granted he hadn’t noticed any one but still, he never trusted demons to give up. “To be honest, I was out looking for a good time… guess I found it,” he said with a wicked grin, still feeling a bit of an adrenaline high from the fight and sprint to the car. “Rest of my evening is open if you want some back up,” he offered the blond. “Not saying you can’t handle yourself, I saw your moves back there but… twenty to one is a bit much,” he said while giving him a bit of a doubtful side look.

This is what Dean thought of as a good time? The human was either suicidal or crazy. Sure, Izzy did have fun doing shit like this too, but he was a demon- he was fucking crazy. "Mmm, yeah… it was a bit much till you showed up. Definitely would have ended up losing this jacket," Izrael laughed a little at Dean and shook his head, "See, I haven't gone and learned my lesson yet it seems since I'm definitely gonna be crashing one of their parties again. Gotta find it first though, and I can't do that in a strangers car."

Dean raised an eyebrow when the blond mentioned that they weren’t done yet and was looking to start a similar party to where he just found them. Ok sure he had been doing stupid stuff since he got back but he had an excuse. He was trying to repress what felt like forty years of Hell - literal Hell. So what was this kid's excuse? She might be crazy, but her crazy was also kinda hot and hunters like this don’t tend to stick in one place long because of the next big hunt. Besides, too often if they stayed in one place for long then all the enemies they made along the way had a tendency to catch up to them. “I can drop you off wherever your next party is so you don’t get jumped on the way again…” Dean trailed off a little as he drove, “could at least tell me your name before you get yourself killed.”

Izrael smiled at the hunter. "Why would I give someone I've never met in this life my name? Doesn't sound too smart. Besides, I don't see you passing over that information either."

Dean grinned. “Sorry, thought you picked it up before things got hairy. Names Dean, Dean Winchester," he said as he held a hand out to shake as he drove, glancing at the blond but mostly keeping his eyes on the road. “You know demons can’t keep their big mouths shut, if your next party is anything like that one, they’re going to be ready for you and you’re going to lose more than your jacket, sweetheart," he said in a matter of fact tone. “Might be a better idea to show up with back up and armed to the teeth,” he offered with a mischievous grin. “Lucky for you I know the perfect place.”

His excuse? His absolute only memories were of hell. Turning into a demon the way he had had wiped out all his human memories and the little demon only knew the last sixty years he had spent in hell training to do just this. He wasn't trying to repress hell, why repress when it was all he knew? He was just doing what Asmodues sent him off to do, and with the youngest prince of hell being the closest person to the blond and having nothing else to really do… he listened. He enjoyed killing other demons, it was a task he found fun. But when your job is to kill any demon that stands against the man you're working for, you don't exactly make any friends. And being alone only gave him more time to hunt down Asmodues's enemies. It was a vicious never ending cycle that wasn't going to change anytime soon as far as Izrael could tell. Hell either hated him, feared him, or admired him from afar - very afar. No one was brave enough to chance getting on Izzy's bad side. And those that were like the hoard tonight that actually tried to kill him were just too stupid to stay away and deserved to die anyways as far as he was concerned.

Of course he knew who Dean was once he heard his name. But the hunter didn't need to know that Izrael had heard of him. He eyed the other’s hand for a moment before he sighed and half gave in to the man, though didn't reach his own hand out, "Izzy Hilton," he said, using the name that Asmodues had given him for when he had to pretend to be human. Though he had no idea that it actually was his name. That Asmodues called him Izrael to see if any of the once nineteen year old’s memories would spark with little clues like that. It never did. "They're always on the lookout for me… wouldn't be anything new…" he said with a little shrug, getting the gut feeling that this hunter was not about to let him go off on his own anytime soon. The last thing the little demon needed was to do spend time with a fucking Wincester, especially the one that spent all that time in hell. "No offense, but I don't really work with others. Thanks for the help back there and everything, but you're Dean Winchester… so you and I working together is a bad idea. Trust me."

With both hands back on the wheel, Dean snorted when Izzy said that demons watching out was nothing new. He understood that, that's what made the Bunker so beautiful. It was the definition of a safe house for spooky shit and basically everything else. He sucked some air between his teeth when it seemed the other knew who he was by name, having heard some of the stuff hunters thought of him while he was putting in time at the Roadhouse. “Fair, I mean we did just meet and I also just saved your ass from a fucking gaggle of demons, but okay,” he said, half joking. “We don’t know each other, and inviting you to my secret Men of Letters bunker can seem a little Silence of the Lambs but I promise, imma damn puppy dog compared to your normal party guests,” he said,. Ane yes, he did just name drop the Men of Letters to see if that helped his case. Dean wasn’t a creep and if Izzy wanted out he’d drop them off wherever they wanted but all horn-dog habits aside, he wouldn’t rest well if he did. He’d probably end up asking around and looking into this pretty Izzy Hilton to see what her story was about. “Again, I know bunker can be off putting, but this place is huge, over twenty bedrooms to pick from. It’s armed to the teeth so nothing is getting in. I have one of the few keys to get in but you can get out whenever you like,” he added, trying to seem a little less kidnappy and rapey. “That and there's a hundred year old whiskey collection.”

Izzy had absolutely zero ideas of what other hunters thought of the man he was currently sitting next too. Up until now, he had done a really good job at avoiding them in his travels and work. Sure, to be on the safe side he did do some research on hunters who seemed to be the biggest threats but until now he hadn't actually met any of them. So, right now he couldn't figure out if it was just bad fucking luck that Dean Winchester happened to walk in on his ambush, or some weird good luck to get him out of it unharmed. Even after over fifty years as a demon, almost sixty now maybe? He honestly had never actually hurt a human. So did he deserve this kind of bad luck? On the other hand though, can demons actually have good luck? It was really confusing.

Fact was, Izzy only knew of Dean Winchester from the mouths of other demons. His research on hunters in general was by word of mouth in hell. It wasn't like there were any books he could read on them. So he knew the man was obviously a good hunter, and not just when it came to demons. He knew the idiot sold his soul to save that dumbass brother of his that was hanging around one of the main demons on his own hit list. It was just really hard to get to the bitch when she was being protected by the hunter drinking demon blood. He only knew that from actually running across her once, he could fucking smell the demon blood radiating from the human she was with and it didn't take long to figure out who that human was and what fucking Ruby was doing with him. Little Sammy Winchester. Lovely. He also knew the man next to him spent what was like forty years in hell, being tortured for most of them by fucking Alastair. It had come as a surprise when he heard that there was some sort of angel watching out for him. Well, the angel part wasn't really known when he figured it out. It was just known that the man was pulled out of hell and Izrael knew that an Angel was the only way the man could have escaped hell and returned to his body the way he had. And really, he would prefer to avoid angels. Most demons weren't really that much of a threat to him. They could likely hurt him but Izzy was not easy to actually kill. Not that they had quite figured that out yet. But he had no idea what an angel might be able to do to him.

Izrael couldn't remember his own torture. He actually had no idea it even happened. Ever since the day Asmodues found his newly turned demon in that cage he kept his pet in, the youngest prince acted as though that was the first day of Izzy's life. He didn't even know that he was in that cage because of that man in the first place. "I'm not afraid of you, Dean, even though I'm pretty damn sure you're no puppy dog," Izzy told him with a little roll of his eyes, the man who had spent his last few years in hell torturing other souls was far from a puppy. But he had caught Izzy's attention mentioning the Men of Letters. He vaguely remembered Asmodues mentioning them decades ago. Something about them being all dead now… about them holding knowledge no one else had. Going to this bunker… could prove useful if the knowledge thing was true.

Izzy finally looked over at Dean again, tucking hair behind his ears, "Well whiskey is always a very good and tempting offer," he said, chewing on his lip a little as he thought it over. "If you're all armed like you say you are… Do you also have books and shit? Like, books on demons and shit." Izzy knew he had been turned differently than almost every other demon that existed, he had to have been to have his own body and no ability whatsoever to jump from one meatsuit to the next, but he had no idea what happened to make him this way. And no book he had found since being set loose on the world had been able to give him the answer he was looking for. If this bunker had hidden knowledge it might be his best bet to find out how he turned, because Asmodues wasn't telling him anytime soon. "And I really wouldn't have to just stay if I don't want to. I can just walk out? Seriously?"

Dean just grinned when the other said he was pretty sure he wasn’t a puppy, calling him out like that. And he believed them when they said that they weren’t scared of him, he did find her in the middle of a demon infested alleyway in the middle of the night. His grin grew when Izzy seemed to be mulling the thought over. He raised an eyebrow and chanced a longer glance at the other when he was asked about books. That he hadn’t been expecting, didn’t peg her for a book type. There might be something they were looking for specifically that the old bats had locked away. He would definitely be doing an inventory check but hey it sounded like they were coming around to the idea. A new face and alone time might do him some good, even if they don't get handsy and this Izzy turned out to be a gigantic book worm.

“Like I said you need a magic key to get in but getting out isn’t a problem, locks behind you but I gotta warn you the cell service sucks,” he said with a smile. He altered his route and started out of town and toward the bunker. The long ride was pretty much silent after that, Dean was honestly a bit too nervous to say something and have the blond change her mind about coming. He couldn't help wanting to help her, wanting to figure her out at least a little. From wanting to protect the little thing and knowing that he would just worry about them at this point. “Just don’t take anything, alright? Not really supposed to take people to the BatCave but…” he trailed off with a shrug after he parked by the bunker, obviously making an exception for the blond right now.

Izzy shrugged when he mentioned cell service, that meant pretty much nothing to him. Of course he knew what a cell phone was, he had been in this world long enough. But he never felt the need to get one. Who the hell was he gonna call? "No big deal, no cell phone. I was serious, I've never worked with someone else before. Never felt the need to get one," he shrugged, as little like it was normal or something to not have a cell this day and age. He honestly didn't actually know either way though. "And I don't plan on taking anything. I've got my own weapons and shit. Just… looking for a little info is all. If you happen to have a book with what I want to know, well, then I won't really need it anymore once I read it." He ignored the Bat Cave comment for the moment, not wanting to let the hunter next to him realize he actually understood the reference. He especially didn't want him to know he found it amusing.

Dean decided to leave Baby in a little hidden knook they made for when they didn’t plan on staying long and putting her in the very nice garage. He just grinned as they walked up to the old green doors after grabbing a bag from the trunk and he pulled it open for the other. Once past the first threshold Dean unlocked the second doors and stepped through, holding it open for the other. “This is the legacy of the Men of Letters, a bit old and dusty but we’re still fixing the place up.” he said as they made their way down the spirling, metal staircase. He walked past the light up map table and tossed his bag on the first long table in the library. “Wanna tour?” he asked as he turned to the other, smiling at them.

He just wanted a fucking book that explained how humans became demons. Without their souls spending hundreds of years tortured in hell. Asmodues had no choice but to tell him that he turned differently than everyone else when he realized he couldn't just jump from meat suit to meat suit like everyone else could. His soul never left his body, something in him changed while he was still a human. But that was all Asmodues would say on the subject. Honestly it was the one thing about the man who called himself Izzy's master that drove him absolutely insane. He didn't care so much about whatever his human life was since he couldn't miss what he didn't remember or had any sort of idea what it might have been like, but he did want to know why he turned into a demon. Was he evil in his previous life? Is that how it worked? He remembered someone once saying that he must have cracked to change the way he did, but cracked from what and how? He just wanted to know how the fuck he came into existence. What made him so different from other demons. Why even Dagon, who knew that Izzy couldn't kill her without that oh so special gun, feared him to some extent. And nothing he had found so far explained any of that shit. Was he a bookworm? Mmm, debatable. Ask any demon who knew him they'd say no,, but Izzy was really good at keeping things about himself pretty damn secret. The less people knew the less they had on you and the safer you were. But the truth was that he did love books, loved to read and learn. And now that he wasn't under Asmodues' thumb at all times and had a mission to carry out, he was able to use research for said mission as an excuse to read. Sure, he was actually doing research but for so much more than anyone actually knew.

Izzy was a bit unsure following Dean into the bunker when they got there. This could be a really, really stupid idea. But on the other hand… he was going to have info on the Winchester's no one else could possibly dream of having and he might get a few other answers out of this as well so he followed along. He looked around as Dean led him through the place, tilting his head and letting a confused little look cross his face as he tilted his head back to see the ceiling, "Uh, sure, if you want. So, do you keep the bats in some special room or something? I kinda just pictured them all over the place."

Her not havung a phone probably should have set off more red fags then it did because even if you were a loner it was useful to have one since pay phones were all but extinct. He tilted his own head when Izzy had mentioned bats, that had been a reaction he might have expected from Cas but really? “It’s not really a batca-... never mind. This is our fortress,” he said, just trying to get past what he felt was a painful moment. He turned on his heel and held up his arms out on either side as he gestured to the books. “This is the library. Nothing says stuffy bookworms like having a library right at the front door right?” He said with a laugh, turning completely to face the other as he walked around one of the tables.

If Izrael actually cared much about completely blending in when he was going by Izzy he probably would have gotten a cell phone. But truth be told, he didn't actually care what humans thought about him and despite Asmodues having insisted he play the part on earth he could probably count on one hand how many times he had ever used the name Izzy before. Since he usually avoided hunters he rarely ever felt the need too. So really… What was the point of carrying around a little electronic box used to call people? The only person who would ever actually want to get ahold of him had his own ways of doing so. But even Asmodues left Izzy to himself for the most part nowadays as long as he kept doing what he was told and continued to work his damnedest to keep Lucifer in his box. Though if he had realized how odd it actually was to not have one, he wouldn't have mentioned it.

Of course it wasn't actually a Bat Cave. It almost annoyed him that the hunter found it so easy to believe that the batman reference really meant nothing to the blond. Sure, part of him was glad too because he didn't want the fact that he enjoyed those comics to be known by anyone, but still… how stupid did this hunter think he really was if he believed that Izzy? He was pretty sure that Batman was popular among humans. It was the Winchester thinking he was dumb that bothered him more than anything though, because that was just not true. Izzy had always been rather smart, even before he turned, he had a near photographic memory. But with all memories of humanity gone, and those memories being from close to sixty years before anyways, all that was left was hell and the supernatural. And he figured that shit out quickly, easily. Humans, not so much. Humanity and what they were like and what they did like were never on his list of things he needed to learn about. Humans weren't his targets. "No offense, but you don't exactly strike me as the bookworm type," he said, moving around the table to go and look at the spines of the books, fingers running lightly over them. Yeah, this would definitely be his best bet at finding answers. Some of these were obviously old as fuck. "The kill first and ask questions later type. Though I suppose since all you hunters go after everything supernatural, you need the lore books, huh?" He personally didn't bother with any other supernatural beings, just the demons on Lucifer and Dagon's side. Which was probably a good thing for them, if this little demon were to ever start working as a real hunter with someone like Dean… they wouldn't stand a chance. As they had proved earlier… the two of them working on the same side had some pretty nasty consequences for those fighting against them.

Dean chuckled when Izzy said he didn’t seem like the book worm type, oh hell no that was Sammy’s department. “Yeah no, that's more my brother's thing,” he said as he walked over to the opposite wall, towards the small table with a few bottles filled clear, brown liquid and a few glasses. “I at least wait long enough to see what I'm fighting so I know how to kill it.” Dean poured them a few glasses and headed to the closest main table to the blond. He leaned against it on his hip and took a sip from his glass while he held out the other to Izzy. The other’s wording did strike him as odd though and he raised an eyebrow a little. The way he said it was just off, but Dean wanted to think Izzy was just into demons, and therefore could know some pretty useful stuff. That or maybe he was really green and thought of himself being different from regular hunters. His gut was telling him something was still off though, but he wasn’t sure what.

Izzy was glad his back was to the hunter when he mentioned his brother so he didn't see the little demon roll his eyes and scowl at the mention of that junkie who was seriously getting in his way with that bitch he was attached to. He was pretending he didn't really know much about them… which wasn't a complete lie, but he had a serious suspicion he knew something about the younger Winchester that Dean didn't. He might know about the demon bitch Sam hung out with but he highly doubted this man knew about the blood and psychic shit that boy was playing with. The psychic shit was honestly the main reason he hadn't gone after Ruby yet, he wasn't like other demons, he had no idea how Sam's little exercising shit would affect him.

“You know, you never mentioned what you were looking into. I’m guessing something demon related,” he mentioned to the other. There wasn’t much small talk on the car ride over.

He didn't say anything for a bit while Dean spoke and walked around the room, more interested in looking through the shelves of books for anything that looked promising. But he never let his guard down really, constantly aware of where Dean was around him or how close he was. He stiffened a bit when he felt Dean closer again and he asked that direct question. Izzy didn't really want to answer anything he was asked, but avoiding taking to him too much might just seem more suspicious. Fuck. He really should have paid more attention to the humans around him the last decade, he was really bad at trying to be one. "Yeah, demon related," Izzy finally said as he turned around and saw Dean holding out the whiskey he had promised. Alcohol didn't really affect him as much as it did humans unless he drank an ungodly amount so he wasn't worried about drinking at least.

He took the glass offered to him and leaned against the bookshelf behind him, shrugging his shoulder a little, "Don't know if you picked up on it during that whole ambush shit, but I kinda hunt demons. Apparently I'm pretty good at it since they don't seem to like me much at all." He took a drink from the whiskey he was given, relishing in the burn that goes down his throat. As a demon, the little blond didn't need to eat. The few times he did were few and far between and it was always for some reason he couldn't figure out, but knew he just wanted whatever the hell it was that he was trying. But he did like to drink. Alcohol that is. He liked the burn.

"Just curious what kind of people become demons and how. Always good for a guy to know everything he can about his enemies and all, yanno?" It wasn't a lie. He had actually been avoiding actually lying to the hunter. Izzy didn't like to lie, it was too hard to remember the fake information he had given to who. So the only thing he had lied about was his name, but that wasn't that big of a lie as Izzy did sound like a nickname for Izrael. Mostly, he was just leaving out details he didn't think Dean needed to know. Like the fact he was a demon and really just wanted to know how he, himself, had turned. How demons like him were made. Because as far as the books he had found about demons elsewhere knew, Cain was the only other person to become a demon this way. And almost nothing was fucking known about that man. As a matter of fact, he was the one demon who no matter how hard he tried Izzy could not fucking find. Not that he had really looked into how to find him. He didn't want to kill Cain like he did with everyone else he hunted down, he wanted answers. But even so, he knew Cain wasn't exactly like him and probably didn't have the answers he wanted. So that had just been another fucking dead end. The little blond didn't do a whole lot of shit that he actually wanted to do or something anyways, ninety percent of his time was spent following Asmodues' orders to hunt down Dagon's followers and make sure Lucifer didn't get out of that cage.

Dean nodded a little when the other confirmed that it was demon related, easy guess. “You don’t pick up that kind of attention without being a major pain in their ass,” he said with a snicker. The man's shoulders stiffened when he took another drink when Izzy said what he was looking into. What kind of people become demons. He forced back a smile and shifted a little as he tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand and not let it run off with the flashbacks and nightmares he has. It felt like every time he blinked he was hit with a flash of something he’d seen or had done. He told everyone he didn't’ remember any of it and refused to talk about it and self medicated with liquor like any good hunter.

Well duh, obviously he was a pain in their asses. Two dozen of them had actually gotten together without someone in power telling them what to do to try and take him out. They failed, miserably thanks to the hunter near him right now, but it didn't negate the fact that Izzy was a huge threat to them and their plans. Really though, if the whole fucking lot of them just fucking stopped trying to set Lucifer free Izzy would have no problem leaving them alone. But until that happened…. He had a job to do. What the hell would he do with himself if Asmodeus actually managed to take the crown and this mission was over? He'd actually never thought about that before. Every single memory he had had something to do with him having to keep Lucifer in the cage.

“Well demons are mostly twisted and tortured souls. You get twisted up so much down there you turn into something else,” he said, rubbing at his brow as he fidgeted a little as he spoke. “At the end of the day they're a spirit, just nastier. You don’t normally catch one running around before they possess someone but the same tricks apply, salt and iron,” he told him, running off a few things off the top of his head, mostly from first hand experience. “I’m sure you know all about devils traps and all that,” he said, waving his hand and finally looking over at the other. It was probably a good thing Dean had been so caught up with that Izzy was looking into that he completely missed the suspicious pronoun.

Izzy couldn't help but roll his eyes at Dean when the man just told him shit he already knew. Was he actually under the impression that someone he thought was a legit demon hunter didn't know that shit already? Also. He was wrong. While holy water did have the same effect on him that it did to most demons, salt and iron actually didn't bother him for some reason. Every single voice in his head was screaming at him to keep his mouth shut for a while, to not get sucked into this conversation. But the thing was… he actually wanted to talk about this shit. He never talked with anyone about shit he actually wanted too. Demons avoided him unless they were trying to kill him, he avoided humans and hunters, and Asmodues pretty much just told him what to do. The little demon didn't actually have any memories of just talking with someone about something he was interested in. And this happened to be the biggest fucking intrest he really had right now.

"See, right there just proves you really have no fucking clue what you're actually dealing with, do you? Obviously being tortured in hell is going to fuck up any soul in some way, but not every soul in hell becomes a demon. This world would be fucked if they did. There are millions and millions of souls in hell." He only just stopped himself from pointing out that despite Dean's own torture and escapades with Alastair he didn't actually turn into a demon. No, a fucking angel actually came and pulled him from the pit. So what the hell was it that made some souls twist the same way he had even though he hadn't gone through that die and be tortured shit and made others just… well, be tortured for all eternity. Or torture as was the case with some. "Yeah, most of them are just nastier twisted spirits, and you don't normally see one walking around without someone else's meat suit… but they can. It's apparently super fucking rare for it to happen, but a human can just wake up a demon somehow. In their own skin and everything. So I want to know what makes the souls that twist that way different from those that don't. What kind of person they must have been. And what happens to those people who turn? How does that happen? But unfortunately, because it's so fucking rare, I haven't been able to find a single book in the last ten years that actually explains that shit." He sighed a little in frustration at the thought before just shaking his head and finishing the rest of his own drink before he turned his back to Dean again to start looking through the books again, waving his own hand in dismissal of the subject. Dean wasn't going to have the answers he wanted obviously. "But yes, of course I know all about devils traps. I just don't use them." He couldn't if he wanted too, not unless he wanted to get stuck inside one himself. Besides, even if he could… with the way he hunted, it would be pretty damn useless and time consuming to try since it was usually a sneak attack/ambush of his own on their own grounds. Wasting time with a devils trap when it was just so much easier to kill them just seemed stupid. "Do you have any sort of order with these books or am I gonna have to look through all of them to find the ones about demons?"

Dean was a little taken back when Izzy said that he had no clue about demons. He felt anger rise up in his belly and his face tightened some. His pride didn’t like that but the built up emotion subsided the more Izzy spoke. He did have a point, if that’s all it took then Hell would be nothing but demons. He never really focused on the fine details, he just killed them. His face became a mix of surprises and doubt when Izzy kept going and told him about the type of demons that keep their bodies. What the hell? He’d never heard of something like that before, what the hell could it be capable of? It was a worrying thought. “This keeps getting better and better,” Dean muttered under his breath. He couldn't stop his brain from thinking about his younger brother on his road trip with his little demon buddy. What if that was Ruby's plan, twist his brother into one of them? He’d fucking gank that bitch before she could try. He wanted to call and check up but that hadn’t gone so well last time.

He made a small face when Izzy asked about an order to the crazy amount of information. He finished his half glass of whiskey and pushed off of the table, setting the glass down before walking away. “I have a feeling what we’re looking for isn’t in here, come on,” He said, motioning the other to follow him with a head nod. He led the blond down the hall a bit, through another doorway and down some stairs. He pushed one of the two heavy doors open and held it open for the other hunter. “When we started going through the stuff that was left here we found that most of the heavy reading books are in here,” He told him. The room was about 25 by 25 feet, metal shelving lined all the walls filled with books and some jars. There was a decent sized table in the middle of the room under the only light, taking up a good chunk of the free space.

Dean just nearly kidnapped the little blond he helped out that he knew nothing about other than the fact he could kill demons pretty damn well and brought him to his secret bunker and he thought anything that came out of this idea wouldn't be completely fucked? Hell. He was pretty damn sure that Dean didn't even realize yet that he hadn't stepped in to help a pretty little girl, but actually a boy who just happened to look a lot like one. Add on to that fact that this boy was also one of those freaky ass demons he was just talking about and you could see clearly that this man definitely hadn't thought this through. "You have no idea," Izzy mumbled back, not sure or honestly even caring if Dean heard him.

Izzy set down the glass still in his hand before he shrugged again and followed Dean through the bunker. Fuck. This place really was huge. Izzy couldn't help but grin a little when he looked into the room. Dark. Enclosed. No way for anyone to try and sneak up on him again. Exactly the kind of rooms he liked and usually worked in when he was looking for a party to crash. "Awesome," he said as he walked in the room. Creepy jars and big old books lining the walls on top of everything else, Izzy had instantly and probably noticeably relaxed more when he was in the room that was so much like a place he would actually want to be in. He didn't say anything else as he started scanning the books on one of the shelves, his eyes widening some when he saw what he instantly felt like he had been looking for for years now. It was smaller than any of the other books in here, but that wasn't surprising considering how little information there probably was at all on demons like him. Humans Turning Demon.

Izzy grabbed the book off the shelf and took a few steps backwards to push himself up to sit on the table, just remembering that Dean was there as he went to open the book. "Uhm… thanks," he said, forcing himself to remember that he was supposed to be a human and actually used to having someone around and even weirder for him- that someone helping him. "Hey… uh, why are you being so like… nice and normal to me? As far as I've seen, people aren't just nice to strangers. Especially when said stranger is a pretty boy who can shove a knife into a human skull."

Dean noticed the small change in the others' demeanor when he showed them the room. The room didn’t bother him or his brother too much but ‘awesome’ wasn’t the normal reaction to this stuff. Though in this line of work, who’s really normal? You see a lot of weird and horrible shit fast and you pick up a few quirks along the way. He had half turned when the other called out to him and thanked him, he was going to leave Izzy alone to do their digging. He raised an eyebrow when he was asked why he was being so helpful. He opened his mouth with a grin to say it was just the right thing to do for a lady when Izzy said that last part, his words luckily getting caught up in his throat. BOY!? WHOLY FUCK!! Dean’s back straightened as he looked the other over again. It took him a second or two to catch himself and he cleared his throat out a little. “Well you want demons dead and I want demons dead,” he said with a shrug, his brain still trying to absorb this enlightening new detail about the blond. “And I learned about a new fleshy kind of demon, win win,” Dean chuckled. Hell all of Dean seemed stiff. Right now, he honestly didn’t know what the fuck to do.

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starshineandbooks · 4 years ago

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Of ghosts and sons

Based almost entirley off of @lovelylogans‘s Gilmore girls AU - AO3 Tumblr

Read THIS on Ao3

Summary: Remus reflects back on his thoughts of his still living loved ones’ lives. Watching his teenager grow into a married man with a kid.

Also known as: An excuse to write soft dad! Remus and Son! Roman, and explore how a dead Remus feels about his son marrying an academically smart moron.

Word count: 2596

Pairing: Romantic Moxiety, Romantic Logince, familial lampr

Warnings: Dead character (Remus is a ghost kinda?), mild cursing, a few suggestive lines, Remus being Remus, weird food, sympathtic! Remus

Remus figured he achieved a pretty great death. Oh, sure, he misses things, but now he can float around behind people and be himself with free of judgement, which is, nice. Oddly nice. Don’t get him wrong, he’d had friends, ut, even Virgil and Isidora had been a little weirded out every once in a while.

And, he’s watched Virgil and Isidora, of course he did. They mattered to him.

Remus is proud of Virgil, finding a good guy, even if he wasn’t a guy Remus would have chosen, to settle down with. Virgil and Patton, Remus think they’re a good match. He’d have loved to make Patton squirm though. Nothing personal, he liked to make everyone squirm. It was fun!

Patton is also fairly interesting, at first Remus just watched him after earth because he was a scandal. Patton, trans, sixteen year old run away, with a baby. Pretty interesting.

Then, Remus got invested. Oops.

Patton was kind, and a good person. Remus could respect him. Remus isn't so sure that he and Patton would have been friends, but Remus had to admit, Patton was respectable.

Patton Sanders, the kid stood up for himself and his child. Patton befriended Virgil, which is hard enough, then made Virgil love him, which is even harder. Then Virgil fell for Patton romantically, which is a task to make happen.

Patton raised a smart, ambitious kid. Logan. Remus is fond of Logan, but don’t tell anyone. Of course, Logan is also basically Virgil’s kid, which basically makes Remus Logan’s roundabout uncle in a weird way.

Logan is smart, wickedly so in fact. The kid goes to Chilton, and is very ambitious. In a cutthroat manner almost. Yet, Logan is genuinely kind, and cares for Remus’ own child.

That’s another thing. Remus has a kid. A biological child he never met.

Isidora had been someone Remus genuinely loved. Not romantically, but he had loved her more than anything else, except maybe Virgil. But that was a different kind of love.

Isidora, the five foot two latina had been a spitfire of a dancer when Remus knew her. Not much had changed, except, she had Roman not long after Remus died.

And Virgil, bless the man, had fought to be in Roman’s life.

Roman was a lot like his mom, loyal, kind, courageous. Roman was taller than his mother, but just as graceful.

Roman, Remus’ baby, shut up that’s Remus’ baby. His spawn. He’s allowed to be a little sappy.

Roman had grown from an over excited six year old kissing his best-friend-and-first-crush’s skinned knee better into a kind, loyal, selfless teenager who’s a dancer just like his mother.

Remus isn’t stupid. Crazy, inconsiderate, and crass? Sure. But Remus is not and has never been stupid.

He knows that Roman probably is better off for not having him around.

Remus is loud, disruptive, rude, disgusting, and generally the opposite of what is ‘socially acceptable’. Remus even revels in this fact.

But, It’s not always an easy life to lead. And Remus does want Roman to have an easy life where he knows how good he is.

But, on the other hand, he watched Roman struggle with a dad sized cut out hole in his life.

Remus had become something of a myth in Sideshire. Remus, the horror story author recluse, Isidora Prince’s best friend, Roman’s dad, died in a mysterious car crash.

No one really tells Roman much about Remus. So, Roman had a bit of doubt, which is natural.

And Remus is so incredibly proud of Roman. For everything.

Roman had graduated highschool with a solid three point four grade point average. The kid had started college on time and was happy. Roman worked as a dance instructor in the town he attends college in, teaching kids to dance.

Roman ended up with a supportive boyfriend, Logan. And the two are a good couple, built off of friendship, love, trust, and respect. The stuff of fairytales, even if they do argue a little more than they’d admit.

Remus has learned he can in fact visit dreams, and talk to people that way, he’s had some conversations with Virgil and Isidora that way.

But, Remus thinks it might be time to visit his son. Especially since Virgil and Patton are finally engaged and Roman is thinking about proposing to Logan.

So, that’s how Remus finds himself sitting in Lucy’s diner opposite of his son and his son’s boyfriend. Apparently this is a shared dream between the couple. Works just as well, Remus supposes.

After all, Remus is fairly fond of Logan too.

“Excuse me,” Logan says looking up from his book and where his head had been resting on Roman’s shoulder, “Do we know you? You look very familiar, I regret to say I can not place you however.”

Remus grins wickedly, “You wouldn't I’m a ghost! My corpse is rotting six feet under you twerp!”

Roman looks up, startled, “D-dad?”

Logan tilts his head, “Oh, that makes more sense. Hello Remus. Virgil speaks fondly of you.”

“Dad,” Roman whispers again, grabbing Logan’s arm, “Logan, that’s my dad.”

“I know, I can see dear.” Logan says in an exasperated yet fond voice.

“Hello Roman, you really do have a lot of your mother in you. Izzydory, how is she?”

“Izzy- Mama’s okay, she- she misses you. I miss you- uh- Can I miss you? I never met you.”

“You can miss the idea of someone,” Logan chimes, “And you know very well what Virgil would say about dismissing feelings.”

“Yeah,” Roman nods, “I do.”

Remus hums, turning to Lucy when she comes to take his order, “Can I get a bacon shake with Sardines and coffee grounds?”

Lucy just nods and walks off.

“That’s-” Roman chokes, “That’s gross dad.”

Remus laughs delightedly, “That’s the point!”

“He does things for amusement, not because it is logical.”

“There’s no rhyme or reason to what I do kid, I just do a skiddly boo.” Remus smiles, “So, what’s life like for you in the Bronx kid?”

Roman just stares blankly at his father, “This can't be real, I’ve gotta be dreaming, Lo, darling, I’m dreaming right?”

Logan just sighs, “I had assumed I was, I don’t know Roman, one of us is for sure.”

“You both are, it’s a shared dream,” Remus nods sagely, “You guys could get up to some steamy things since you can share dreams-”

“And as Virgil would say, stop it, fam.” Logan drawls unsure, then signs, shaking his head, “Also, what in the world is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I just meant you two could use the dreams to have dream sex-”

“Please stop,” Logan groans, putting his face in his hands and making a distressed sound, “Why are you like this? That is your son.”

“I know!” Remus cheers, “So, Roman, any questions?”

Roman stares at Remus, “I- I had so many, but- I can’t remember them now.”

Logan turns and whispers something to Roman.

Roman nods, “That’s right, thanks specs!”

“What’s right kid?” Remus asks.

“Oh, I’ve just always wondered, am I- Am I doing the right thing? I mean, if you’re really Remus, you’ve not seen me my whole life, like, yeah i”m your kid but, I’m not raised by you. Did- Did I do okay? Have I made you proud at least?”

Logan looks rather upset from the question, Remus notes. If the dead man had to guess, he’d say it’s because Logan doesn't like that Roman doubts himself.

And Remus doesn't like it either.

No, he is not being sentimental, shut the hell your mouth.

Remus tilts his head, “I’ve been watching you Roman. You to Logan, but Ro, kid, mijo, you’ve done well.”

Roman’s face is almost comical to Remus, wide eyes, mouth quirked up, eyebrows drawn up. A twinge of relief in the breath Roman lets out. Remus thinks he looks like an overly excited puppy. But that’s Remus’ over excited puppy.

Logan smiles gently, hidden almost. Remus does think it’s interesting how similar Logan is to Virgil.

“Really?” Roman breathes out, sounding even more like an overly excited puppy.

“I very much doubt him to be lying Roman, your mother has never put up with liars before, I doubt she would have in the father of her child.” Logan says simply, well, simply for the eighteen year old genius.

“Really, kid. You graduated with a good GPA, you got out of Sideshire, you’re a dancer just like your mother, you’re brave, and just, and kind, but don’t tell anyone I said any of this sappyniess. And kid, Roman, you’re doing good.”

“Thank you,” Roman says softly.

“You should not thank him Ro,” Logan scoffs, “He said the truth, it’s not like he offered to walk you down the aisle at your wedding.”

“Our wedding,” Roman says quickly, “My wedding will be ours.”

Logan blinks, flushing steadily, “Uh-”

“Hopefully!” Roman chimes, “I mean to hopefully!”

“God you’re obnoxiously cute, you know that?” Remus rolls hie eyes, “I’m sure you’ll both be married forever to each other and have some sappy loving relationship.”

“Thanks? I think.” Logan sighs, shaking his head.

“Hey, dad?” Roman starts, “Uh, got any life advice?”

“Save time by putting toothpaste in your food, use bottle caps as orange holders, get a toilet seat and use it to put your plate on when you eat! And, don’t try to fight with Izzy unless whatever you're fighting about really matters, because she is a stubborn woman and you’ll be tired by the end of the argument, and probably have lost.”

“Uh-”

“The bit about your mom sounds accurate, but she’s nice and might listen?” Logan sighs, shaking his head.

“How do you use a toilet seat- never mind I don’t want to know.”

Lucy comes back, setting Remus’ abomination of a milk shake down.

Remus thanks her, turning his head to look at Roman.

“God, you really got your mama’s pretty, you know that? I mean, you look like me some, but god.”

“I- You thought mama was pretty?” Roman blinks, “I’d always thought you were gay, they always said-”

“Kid, I’m gay, not blind.” Remus chuckles, “But yeah, your mom’s pretty kid.”

“Yeah,” Roman sighs, she is.”

“You’re about to wake up because of an alarm you set because you, my friend, have an early shift today. I’m proud of you kid, you’re doing good. I’ll talk to you again, later. Okay?”

“Dad?” Roman blinks, “Are you really here?”

“I’m dead, but yeah, I’m here.”

“Thanks dad.”

“I love you kid,” Remus sighs, “Good luck on your test tomorrow!”

Roman blinks startled but fades from the dream, leaving just Logan.

Logan looks at Remus and snorts darkly, “This isn't at all awkward, you know, my boyfriend’s dead dad in Lucy’s diner. Not to mention that you’re Virgil’s best friend.”

“Yeah, probably word that I’m your uncle and your boyfriend’s dad,” Remus snorts, “But I like weird.”

“Uh, uncle?!”

“Yeah, you’re basically Virgil’s kid, meaning that since I’m basically his brother, that I’m basically your uncle!” Remus cackles, “I thought you were the smart one!”

“It depends on the kind of intelligence,” Logan sighs, “I’ll admit I lack some of the more, say, social knowledge. But, I have dad and Roman at least.”

“Yeah, well, you're a good kid to Logan.”

“Thanks.”

“Be good to my baby Logan,” Remus says darkly, “Be good to my baby or I’ll figure out how to ruin your entire life.”

Logan looks up to Remus, “If I were to be bad to Roman, I’d have ruined my life myself. Because, he is my everything, as stupid and sappy as that sounds.”

Remus nods, “Good. You’ll make it through you know you two will make it out together.”

“Good.” Logan hums, tilting his head, “You're an asshole though. You really hurt a lot of the people we both care for.”

“Ballsy,” Remus smirks, “Calling the dead father of your boyfriend that. I knew I liked you!”

“Very few people seem to,” Logan shrugs, “But the whole dying and destroying Ms. Prince and Virgil and leaving Roman to be in the dark is really my only complaint against you.”

“Y’know, I did regret not being able to be there for them, but Roman especially. He’s my baby Logan, I know you don’t have kids, but, there’s just something about them.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, well, I should go.”

“Probably so. And Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“If you really can talk to people through dreams, don’t leave Roman alone, he’d like you to talk to him. And, maybe talk to Virgil and Ms.Prince some too.”

“Of course. Later dork. Dork means- You’re gone.”

Remus shakes his head as the dream dissolves around him, a bitter laugh leaving him.

Remus made sure to speak to his loved ones every so often, the first time he visited Isidora after Logan had told him too it had been ten years and she had cried a little when she woke up.

Virgil had insulted Remus the whole dream that Remus had visited the emo music loving man.

Remus watches Virgil and Patton’s wedding, glad to watch the entire thing and see his best friend happy. Remus notices that Roman is the best man for Virgil, but only because Logan was Patton’s best man. The younger couple gave a nice speech that called attention to the fact that this wedding has been a long time in the works.

Virgil and Patton’s first dance is sweet and too sappy for Remus’ taste but okay.

Remus nearly screams when Roman and Logan get engaged, because, like the dorks they are, they propose at the same time.

Logan and Roman got reneged on their fifth anniversary, in the gazebo, under the stars. Remus had proposed first, because this was his plan. But Roman pulled out his own ring and asked Logan.

Because the two are entirely too cute.

Remus gloated to them next time he spoke to them both, he called it after all.

Roman and Logan’s wedding is a year and a half later, over the summer between their junior and senior years in college.

It’s a bigger affair than Virgil and Patton’s had been, but not the largest wedding.

The whole town came, along with Logan’s grandparents, and a few friends from the boys’ own colleges.

Roman and Logan had stared at each other sappily the whole vow giving, making stupid cow eyes.

But, Remus creamed the loudest cheer out of anyone at that wedding when the two kissed and sealed the deal. He caught Isidora and Virgil looking around, then sharing a glance and a bitter laugh, a mutter of Remus’ name.

Roman and Logan’s first dance, per Roman’s selection, was a stupidly sappy song, for a pair of stupidly sappy new husbands. Husbands, God, Roman was married now. To his highschool sweetheart no less, his small town highschool sweetheart.

Remus would say something arguably rude about the whole sappy ordeal, if it wasn’t Roman’s wedding.

A few years down the line, after Logan and Roman graduate, they buy a house in Sideshire, adopting a kid. And oh, Remus has a grandchild now.

Virgil and Patton went to family dinners on Fridays with Emilie and Richard Sanders, Logan and Roman going as well. And somehow, Remus is glad that his saps have each other.

As much as Remus misses his friends and his family, as much as he wishes he could be there for them in the flesh, he’s proud of them no matter what. Even if they are stupidly sappy.

But, Remus looks forward to reuniting with Isidora and Virgil, and officially meeting the rest. One day, but hopefully, not soon.

#WYLIWF verse #logince #moxiety #platonic lamp #Sympathetic! Remus #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #sanders sides #Ghost! Remus Sanders

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hopesilverheart · 4 years ago

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Title: I loved your colours (before I loved you) Artist: @calliartss Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Clary Fray, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood Word Count: ~95k Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.

In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter 4: Wish I could get to know you

Alec was so busy dealing with business affairs and the first few sketches of the spring collection that he didn’t see his team of models again until two weeks after the selection. Even then, he had only stopped by his team’s floor to hang out with Clary. Running into the models was more of a coincidence than anything.

Not that he was going to complain, especially not when he spotted Magnus Bane standing shirtless in the middle of the room.

His mouth dried up instantly and whatever words he had been about to say died in his throat. Clary, who had walked into the room with him, shot him an amused and knowing glance but – thankfully – didn’t say anything embarrassing. She would tease him mercilessly for his reaction later, undoubtedly, but he could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was a shirtless Magnus Bane. Because apparently, not only was the man beautiful, he was also sculpted like a God. Alec absolutely did not drool over his abs or his arms, but he wasn’t foolish enough to deny that the man cut an imposing figure. They had definitely made the right choice when they had hired him.

“Alec!”

The designer shook his head to get rid of the errant thoughts and turned towards Izzy. His sister was fully-dressed, which made sense since the seamstresses already had her measurements from past collections. Meliorn and Kaelie were in a similar state, though their eyes rove appreciatively over the other models’ bodies as Helen and her team set to work.

Alec could relate.

“You haven’t been down here in years, hermano,” Izzy pouted. “I thought you’d forgotten all about us models. You’ve been mostly absent too, Fray, don’t think I haven’t noticed. What is up with you two?”

“We’ve been busy with work, Izzy,” Alec rolled his eyes, heading straight for Clary’s office. “We don’t exactly have the time to stare at your measurement sessions or talk about who’s going to attend which photoshoot. I swear we’ll start spending more time with you once we’re all settled in and the collection is a little more set in stone. In the meantime, go have fun with your new friends.”

“Alec, please,” his sister whined. “Please stay with me for a while longer, I’m going crazy out here. My only ally is being poked with pins and needles, and everyone else is too busy with their own business to pay attention to me.”

“I’m sure if you talked to them, they wouldn’t mind having you around,” Alec huffed, though he let Izzy drag him towards one of the couches put out especially for the models anyways. He shrugged at Clary apologetically. “I’ll join you later, alright? You get to work on that thing we were talking about yesterday.”

“Thing?” Izzy’s eyebrows flew up and her eyes lit up excitedly. “What thing are you guys talking about? Does this have to do with the collection? Can I know about it? Oh Alec, please tell me this isn’t another top secret project you can’t tell me about, I think I’d go crazy.”

“It’s not a top secret project,” Alec sighed. “But it is for the collection, so I won’t be telling you about it until we’ve agreed on the details. Everything’s still a bit blurry right now, and inspiration isn’t coming to me as fast as I’d want it to. Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know once Clary and I figure things out. Or at least you’ll be the one to know the most about this collection outside of our actual team.”

“I’m part of your team!” Izzy exclaimed indignantly, gesturing at the rest of the room. “We all are!”

Alec barely refrained from rolling his eyes again. His sister knew exactly what he was talking about and was being purposefully obtuse. The thing was, he really wasn’t supposed to talk about the spring collection to anyone before it was being sown and truly created. It was a rule he and his team had come up with early on in their career, back when they had all been new and inexperienced.

He loved his sister, but he didn’t trust her to keep her mouth shut if someone were to ask her what she would be wearing to the next fashion show. As a journalist, it was in Izzy’s nature to speak first and think later.

Unbidden, his gaze strayed to Magnus. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the same way, if he talked and talked and only considered his words later, once it was too late to take them back. Or maybe the other journalist was nothing like his sister. Maybe he was quieter, relying more on body language to express his opinions.

He certainly knew how to use his body, if the way he was flexing his arms was anything to go by. Alec couldn’t help himself from wondering what those muscles would feel like against him. Was Magnus strong enough to lift even someone as tall and muscular as Alec up? Was he strong enough to shove him against a wall and…?

“Earth to Alec,” his sister’s voice cut through his thoughts and Alec barely held back his rising blush. “Quit drooling over your newest employee and start focusing on me instead. I was asking you about your favourite model, but clearly I don’t have to ask.”

“What do you mean?” Alec asked innocently. His sister wasn’t fooled and they both knew it, but it hadn’t hurt to try. “Fine, maybe I was staring at Magnus a little bit more than I was at the other models, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” Izzy sing-songed. “Methinks my hermano has a bit of a crush on someone.”

“You think wrong,” Alec narrowed his eyes at her. “Look, just because I find him attractive doesn’t mean I have a crush on him. I don’t even know the man and, as you so nicely pointed out, he’s my employee.”

“So romantic,” Izzy sighed. “An office love story; everyone will go crazy about it. Don’t hold yourself back just because you’re afraid of the fallout. Magnus is a great guy, I’m sure the two of you would get along wonderfully. You need to start living every once in a while, Alec.”

“I live plenty,” he scoffed, though his eyes flickered back to Magnus as he spoke. “Just because I don’t go out every weekend doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have a fun time. Clary and I have weekly dates, and I see you whenever I want to, and my team takes me out once a month to make sure I mingle with strangers. I don’t need a boyfriend to make my life complete, hermana.”

“But it would make your life better, wouldn’t it?” Izzy raised her eyebrows at him.

Alec didn’t answer her, preferring to focus on the man they were talking about instead. For all that he acted like he wasn’t really interested, Alec found Magnus Bane absolutely fascinating. The man was both handsome and pretty, seemed to attract everyone in the room with a single smile, and had received nothing but positive comments from Alec’s colleagues.

The only people who hadn’t spent time with him yet were Clary and Alec, since they had been busy with other things. Alec wasn’t bitter about it, per se, since he really didn’t know the man, but he certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. It had been such a long time since he last let himself feel anything for anyone other than his close friends and family, but there was something about Magnus Bane that made him want to open himself up again.

“Do you know if he’s single?”

The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and he immediately found himself regretting them. Izzy’s eyes turned mischievous and eager, and Alec’s stomach was weighted down with dread. His sister was the last person he should have told about his interest in Magnus Bane, model and journalist extraordinaire. He would never hear the end of it, and he knew Isabelle wouldn’t stop until Magnus and he had gone on at least a date.

Maybe even three.

“I do, actually,” his sister said smugly. She didn’t expand on her answer and Alec clenched his jaw. He hated it when she made him repeat himself or make his question ‘clearer’. She knew exactly what he wanted to know but was going to stay silent until he reiterated his words.

Not today.

“Good for you,” he shrugged, smirking at Izzy’s disbelieving look. She had obviously thought he was going to cave and play into her hands. “Do you plan on asking him on a date, then?”

“What?” His sister looked downright disgusted and Alec had to refrain from bursting into laughter. It would ruin his ploy and that was the last thing he wanted. “Of course not! Why on earth would I want to ask him out whilst simultaneously trying to set the two of you up?”

The smirk on Alec’s face widened. He waited for a second, then another and, finally, realisation dawned on his little sister’s face. She slapped his arm playfully, huffing and puffing at him as she understood she had just been beaten at her own game.

“He could still be dating someone,” she pouted. “Part of my plan might be to make him and his significant other break up.”

“Right, because that’s totally the type of thing you’d do,” Alec rolled his eyes. “You may be a bit pushy at times, hermana, but you’re not the kind of person who breaks couples up just to get me a date. I know you love me, but you’re not cruel enough to break Magnus’ heart just so I can steal it.”

Before Izzy could say anything else, the seamstresses shooed Magnus away from them and the man headed straight for Izzy and Alec, a wide smile on his face.

“Isabelle! I see you brought your handsome brother with you today,” he greeted them, winking at Alec. “Finally managed to drag him out of that office of his? The life of a CEO has to be dreadfully boring, darling, I can’t imagine how dull your days must get.”

Alec snorted and, next to him, he could see Izzy’s lips curl into an amused smile. They both knew just how interesting his days could get in between business meetings with various fashion brands and media outlets and designing sessions with Clary. To Magnus, who didn’t know about Alec’s second role within the company, his job probably sounded like torture.

“It’s not too bad,” he eventually answered, not wanting to make Magnus feel like he was missing something.

(He was, of course, but that was besides the point.)

“Well I, for one, am glad you’re the one dealing with the higher-ups,” the model scrunched his face up adorably. “I don’t think I could make it through a meeting without losing my temper. Some people are just so ridiculously entitled, constantly looking for mistakes that aren’t there and unwilling to give people what they deserve as long as someone slides them just enough cash to keep them quiet.”

Alec bit his lip to stave off his laughter, wondering when Magnus would realise he was ranting about higher-ups to Alec, of all people. Not that Alec would ever do anything like what Magnus had just implied, but he had heard about CEOs and share-owners who deliberately screwed people over for a little bit of extra cash. It was horrific and not something Alec would even consider doing, but he knew some people lacked the moral values he prided himself in upholding.

“I agree with Magnus,” Izzy piped up cheerfully, sending a sly glance in Alec’s direction. “I don’t know how people deal with CEOs and bosses and people who are in charge; they’re the absolute worst. What do you think, Alec? Do you have any issues with your boss?”

Alec didn’t dignify her with an answer, wondering if it might be better for him to leave the two models alone. They seemed to be friendly enough and Magnus was available now, so Izzy wouldn’t need him to keep her company, but he had a feeling his sister would try to hold him back as soon as he took a single step away from them.

“Don’t even think about it,” Izzy hissed under her breath, her smile never leaving her face. When she spoke again her voice was louder, clearly aimed at Magnus. “So Magnus, what do you think about the team? This is your first time seeing everyone in the same place, right? Not too chaotic for you? No regrets yet?”

“Yet?” Magnus ventured, looking between the two of them suspiciously. “What have you guys been hiding from us? As far as I was aware, the most intimidating part of this job was having to deal with Alec Lightwood in the flesh, and I don’t find you that scary at all, darling.”

“Um… Thank you?” Alec frowned, his last words coming out more like a question than a statement. He hadn’t even been aware people discussed him behind his back. “Where did you hear about this whole intimidation thing? I was under the impression that most of my employees liked me, not that they feared me.”

“Oh, it’s just what the new ones mentioned,” Magnus waved his concerns away. Still, Alec glanced in the other models’ direction. He’d have to talk to them and make sure they weren’t afraid of him, since that was the last thing he wanted. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll realise you’re a wonderful human being as soon as they spend time with you.”

“How would you know I’m a wonderful human being?” Alec asked, his eyebrows climbing up on his face. “You’ve barely even talked to me since your interview, and half that time was spent criticising me and my fellow higher-ups.”

Instantly, Magnus blanched, his mouth opening and closing as though he was trying to think of a way to justify his earlier behaviour. Izzy shook her head at Alec exasperatedly, but the designer was too amused to stop Magnus’ incoming apology. He would make sure the man knew he hadn’t offended Alec at all, but he wasn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to see the beautiful and confident Magnus Bane stutter because of him.

“I- God, I am so sorry, I didn’t even think before saying that,” Magnus groaned. “My friends always tell me I lack a filter when I’m not on the job, and it seems I’ve finally managed to put my foot in my mouth in front of someone who matters. I really didn’t mean to insult you, the words just slipped out when you mentioned higher-ups because I had to deal with some real pieces of work at one of my old jobs, and well- I’m truly sorry, Mister Lightwood.”

Next to him, Isabelle mouthed ‘Mister Lightwood’ with a delighted grin on her face, and Alec grimaced at the moniker. Plenty of people addressed him that way, but it sounded completely wrong coming from Magnus, for some reason. Not that he didn’t know what that reason was; he just wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it when Magnus was right there.

“Please, call me Alec,” he insisted. “The only people who call me Mister Lightwood are the suck-ups, the execs, and the newbies who aren’t sure what to make of me yet. You’re on the team for the collection, which means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other around, so the least I can do is allow you to call me by my first name.”

“Right, because you definitely gave permission to everyone else,” Izzy snickered, avoiding a nudge in the ribs expertly and sauntering away from them, waggling her eyebrows at Alec as she left. “Just saying, big brother!”

Alec determinedly ignored the dark flush on his cheeks as he turned back towards Magnus with a sheepish smile. It was true that he hadn’t actually told the other models to call him Alec yet, but that was mostly because he hadn’t gotten to spend time with them. He’d have to make sure they knew they were more than welcome to treat him a little less formally than they undoubtedly thought they should.

“So…” He started lamely, cursing himself internally for his lack of social skills when it came to beautiful men. “You and Izzy seem to really get along. How long have the two of you been working together, if you don’t mind me asking? I’ve never met you before, not even at her ridiculous parties and bar nights, which means you only recently became close to her, right?”

“Right,” Magnus nodded, something like uncertainty flashing in his eyes. “I’ve been on the media side of things for a while, but I was only very recently promoted, and I stayed in the background before that. And then I started modelling as well, and Isabelle was the only face I really recognised, so I jumped on the chance to spend time with a colleague I knew I shared interests with.”

“Smart of you,” Alec said, not sure what else he was supposed to say about the friendship between his sister and this man whom he was incredibly attracted to. “And everyone else? They’ve been treating you alright? I mean, I know my team is professional and I care about all of them a lot, but I just want to make sure everything is running smoothly on your end, since I would hate to find out you’ve been dealing with some harassment issues or other unpleasant things like that.”

“I assure you, everything has been going perfectly well,” Magnus answered, smiling at Alec so warmly that it was a wonder his heart didn’t melt on the spot. “I’m looking forward to seeing the wonderful collection Miss Fray- Clary, I mean, put together with her partner, and I get along fine with everyone here. You’ve created a very pleasant working space here, Alec.”

“I try my best,” Alec shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck as he so often did when he wasn’t sure how to handle a compliment. Hearing about how much people liked his collections and colour choices was one thing; having people directly tell him he was doing an amazing job was another. “But my team is a huge part of it too. I couldn’t do all of this without them, especially Clary, and my efforts would be for naught if they didn’t work just as hard as I try to.”

“Modest too,” Magnus sighed. “Is there anything wrong with you, Alec, or will I just have to lament over your perfection with a kindred spirit?

“I mean- I-” Alec hadn’t thought he could get any redder, but he was clearly being proven wrong. Thankfully, that was when Clary decided to poke her head out of her office and gesture for him to come join her. Alec pounced on the chance to get away from Magnus and his ability to make Alec completely lose control over his own body. “Right! I have to go. Clary needs me for, um, for work things, so I should- I should really get going before she comes over and drags me there herself.”

“Of course, Alec,” Magnus chuckled, amusement dancing in those beautiful honey-gold eyes of his. “You go do that. I’ll have to catch up with our lovely designer later and tell her off for stealing you away from me, but I wouldn’t want to stop you from doing your job.”

Alec nodded, then proceeded to stare at Magnus for another few embarrassing seconds before realising what he was doing and turning around abruptly. God, why had Izzy brought his dating life and his attraction to Magnus up? He would have been able to ignore it if she hadn’t pushed him in this direction, but now all he could think about was how gorgeous and funny and kind Magnus was, and how much Alec wanted to explore this possibility that had cropped up between the two of them.

He couldn’t be doing that, not when he had an entire collection to plan out and thousands of other things to take care of. A relationship would only make his life harder.

And yet, a part of him wanted to take all the hardships that would come from such a relationship, because something told him Magnus was special and that, at the end of the day, he would be worth every long night and difficulty and obstacle their relationship would throw Alec’s way.

But he couldn’t think about that yet, not when he hadn’t even asked the man out, and not when he was about to go into a semi-serious meeting with Clary. Magnus Bane was truly something else, but he could wait a while longer.

And Alec’s heart could wait a while longer too.

***

“Waiting for my brother?”

Magnus’ gaze snapped up and immediately landed on Isabelle, who was standing in front of his chair with a questioning look in her eyes. Magnus frowned momentarily, wondering why she thought he would be waiting for Alec in front of Clary’s office, but then remembered something about the two friends spending all of their time together. He hadn’t considered that before standing guard in front of the office like an overeager employee – or a stalker, but he rather preferred the first phrasing.

“No, actually, I’m waiting for Clary,” Magnus answered. “I hadn’t even thought about Alec and where he might be, but I’m pretty sure he left this floor hours ago, so I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Why would you be worried?” Isabelle asked, smirking teasingly. “I was under the impression that you quite liked his company, slight social blunders and all. I swear, the two of you had sparks flying throughout the entire floor when you were talking earlier.”

“Now that is a gross over-exaggeration,” Magnus snorted. “I’ll admit Alec and I seem to have some sort of chemistry, but I’m not even sure he’s gay or interested, and he’s also my boss, in case that escaped your notice. I have a feeling I would be stepping over a hundred boundaries by asking him out or letting him woo me, and no, I’m not being dramatic.”

“Oh, but you are,” Isabelle chuckled. “I swear, you and Alec even use the same excuses. He seems to be worried about HR, which I can sort of understand, but your contract here is temporary, whereas the one you have with Lightwood Media will be permanent sooner rather than later. You’ll have to deal with their HR team, whilst Alec deals with the one over here, meaning you have nothing to worry about. You don’t technically work for the same company.”

“Except whilst I’m modelling here,” Magnus reminded her, raising his eyebrows. He thought his reasoning would be solid and Isabelle would let it go, but it looked like she was a lot more stubborn than Magnus had thought she would be. “Look, if something happens, I won’t push it away, but I’m not about to make the first move. Your brother seems to be a very busy and important man, and I have other things to worry about than a new relationship or flirtation with an impossibly attractive CEO.”

“Sure you do,” Isabelle grumbled, though she thankfully let the topic go – for now, Magnus’ mind supplied. He didn’t doubt that she would start needling him about Alec again the next day, and the one after that, and so on until he finally caved. “Now, why did you want to talk to Clary? I mean, no offence, but Raphael told me you were so panicked about meeting her the other day that you just stared at the building for a full five minutes, so I didn’t think you would actively try to talk to her.”

“That traitor,” Magnus gasped dramatically. “Betraying me at every turn, I swear. And for your information, I was rationally nervous about meeting someone I admired for a job interview, nothing more. I’m more than capable of talking to her now that this job is firmly mine, believe me. As for why I want to see her, well… I talked to Alec earlier, it’s only fair I talk to my other boss, the one who actually has a say in the collection and is going to be dressing me up like a living doll.”

“Right,” Isabelle said, her mouth opening before she snapped it shut, a small frown making its way onto her face. “Well, I hope she has the answers to whatever questions you might have for her. Let me warn you, though, she’s not innocent as she seems, and I’m speaking from experience here.”

“Oh yes,” Magnus grinned. “I’ve heard all about the little ‘rivalry’ going on between Clary and you, but I also have it under good authority – yours, need I remind you – that the animosity between the two of you is mostly for show. However, I’ll heed your warning and make sure not to flirt with her too aggressively. Wouldn’t want to steal her away from you, after all.”

“I- Clary and I aren’t dating, Magnus, you know this,” Isabelle sniffed haughtily, probably trying to hide that delightful Lightwood blush that seemed to run in the family. “But yes, please refrain from flirting. I wouldn’t want you to ruin your chances with my brother by trying to seduce his best friend. Anyways, gotta run, but I expect to hear all about this undoubtedly titillating conversation later, maybe over drinks?”

“Sounds like a party to me,” Magnus winked at her, sighing contentedly as he watched her leave.

Isabelle Lightwood was truly a force to be reckoned with, and her little intervention had done wonders for his nerves. As much as he had claimed to be completely okay with meeting Clary Fray again, Magnus had to admit he had been feeling a little jittery before Isabelle had shown up. However, there was something about the brunette that made him feel comfortable and welcome, and he couldn’t even remember why he had been nervous in the first place.

Anyone who had caught Isabelle’s attention couldn’t be anything other than kind, and Magnus knew exactly how interested Isabelle was in Clary, whether they were dating or not.

“Magnus?”

Unlike Isabelle, who had sounded teasing and confident when she had addressed him, Clary’s voice was soft and inquisitive, and Magnus could immediately see the resemblance between Alec and her. Whether they knew it or not, they had clearly picked up on a few things from each other, and it was rather endearing.

“Clary! Um, good evening! Is it alright if I call you Clary? I mean, Alec gave me permission to use his first name, but maybe you’re the type who sticks to the formalities within the workplace…” Right, not nervous at all. He had handled himself better in front of Alec, and he was someone Magnus was actually attracted to. Maybe he had underestimated how nervous he would be to spend time with someone he had idolised for quite a while.

“Clary is just fine,” the redhead giggled, locking her office door behind her and walking towards the elevator, glancing over her shoulder at Magnus when he stayed frozen in pace. “I’m sorry, I assumed you were here to see me, but are you waiting for someone else? There aren’t a lot of employees milling around at this time, I’m afraid to say, but I’m sure I could contact whoever you’re looking for-”

“Ah, no, I was definitely waiting for you,” Magnus cleared his throat with an awkward chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m usually a lot better at talking to people, but I’ll admit that I’ve always loved your work and am still in awe that I’m working for you now. Your partner and you have done truly wonderful things, and your support for the LGBTQ+ community is admirable, and I just really wanted you to know that.”

“Oh,” Clary blushed, biting at her bottom lip as though she were completely unused to receiving compliments about her hard work. “Thank you, but you really don’t need to be intimidated by me because of my collections. I swear I’m just as much of a disaster as everyone else is in real life, if not more so. I just happen to have landed a sweet, sweet job thanks to my best friend who believed in me more than I believed in myself. But still, thank you, I’m glad I was able to give you something and someone to look up to, no matter how strange it is to hear that I am somehow a role model.”

“Well, you and your partner,” Magnus pointed out, trying to be subtle about his curiosity but probably failing miserably, if the way Clary’s mouth curled upwards was anything to go by. “I don’t suppose we’ll get to meet them anytime soon? Raphael told me they were rather secretive, but I have to admit I thought they would at least meet with the models.”

“What can I say,” Clary shrugged, frowning slightly. “They’re busy with other things. And even if you don’t see them around, that doesn’t mean they haven’t come around here to check you guys out. I swear, they’re serious about this, and wonderful at their job. They just happen to like being in the dark rather than thrown in the spotlight.”

“Leaving all the hard work to you, then?” Magnus joked. He would have pushed more, but it was clear to him that his questions weren’t welcome, or at least wouldn’t be for much longer. “Dealing with journalists and fans and all that alone can’t be easy.”

“I’m not alone,” Clary said easily, stepping out of the elevator as it reached the ground floor and smiling softly in Magnus’ direction. “I have Alec. Partner or no, I’ll always have my best friend at my side, dealing with just as much – if not more – shit than me, so I don’t mind too much. Besides, they do plenty of work in the background, whether people see it or not. They’re not called the colour genius for nothing, you know?”

“Right,” Magnus nodded excitedly. Honestly, as good as Clary was, the mystery behind her partner made them even more interesting.

Magnus had tried to look into them before, in the hopes of scoring a great article. He had been younger and had foolishly forgotten that people who wanted to keep their identity a secret were usually very good with what they said and did. There had been nothing to find, no lead to follow and, although Magnus had been frustrated at the time, he couldn’t help but think it was better this way.

If he had exposed Clary’s co-designer all those years ago, there was no way he would have been hired as a model for the Lightwoods, and he would still be stuck underneath Lorenzo’s rule. Besides, now that he was inside the company, he was confident that he would crack the mystery soon enough. He was great at his job as a reporter, and the partner wouldn’t be able to stay hidden forever.

And this time, if he found them out, he wouldn’t even think about writing an article. There was something thrilling about the idea of being one of very few who knew this person’s true identity. And yes, he knew good things came to those who waited, but Magnus had never been a patient man, and he wasn’t about to change when he was so close to achieving one of his life goals.

“So, do you guys share the work evenly?” Magnus asked, deciding he might as well make the most of the few minutes he had left with the designer he admired so much. “I know they take care of the colours, which means you probably take care of the fabrics, and maybe even the artistic side of things, like drawings and sketches and all that? I mean, not to seem like a stalker, but I read that you went to school for a slightly more classical art degree a few years ago, so…”

“Yeah,” Clary said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. There was something wonderful about hearing people talk about their passion, since it always made them light up and radiate happiness. Magnus wondered if he looked the same way when he talked about the things he loved. “I thought I was going to become a ‘real’ artist like my mom, since that was the only dream I’d ever had. And then I met Alec whilst he was studying for his business degree. We became fast friends, bonded over our shared interests and, soon enough, he was asking me to work for him. I didn’t even have my degree yet, still had two semesters to complete, but he made sure I could work and simultaneously finish my college education, and I’ve been by his side ever since.”

“That sounds like a beautiful friendship,” Magnus said, finding Alec Lightwood more and more tempting by the minute. A beautiful man who also had a heart of gold and cared about his friends more than he cared about the approval of his superiors? People like that weren’t exactly populating the entirety of New York. “I have a best friend like that; she got me out of trouble, still does, and I know she’ll always be there for me. I’m even her daughter’s godfather.”

“That’s sweet,” Clary smiled. “If Alec doesn’t make me his first child’s godmother, I’m going to throw a fit. I know Isabelle is his sister, but I’m pretty sure I deserve it more than her, since I’ve seen him at his lowest in a way she never has. I mean, she would probably be a great aunt, but I will fight for that first child even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Magnus burst out laughing at the redhead’s enthusiasm. Isabelle had been right; there was nothing threatening about Clary Fray at all. And he could easily understand why the brunette had a crush on the energetic and kind woman; just like Alec Lightwood, Magnus was willing to bet there weren’t a lot of Clary Frays out there. Some people were just different, and it seemed he had found two for the price of a single job.

“I’m sure Alec will agree to giving you custody of the child in case of his death,” Magnus said as seriously as he could manage. “Especially if you already live with Isabelle by then, which I hear is practically a given at this point. I mean- Sorry if I’m overstepping, but the rumours within the office aren’t exactly kept quiet. I learned about the bet going on over yours and Isabelle’s relationship as soon as I stepped into the building on my first day here.”

“Right, that betting pool,” Clary rolled her eyes, though Magnus could see the hints of a fond smile curling at her lips. “And I don’t know. I’m not sure I feel completely comfortable talking to you about this, since I have a feeling you’re just as much of a matchmaker as Isabelle herself is. I would probably find myself stuck in an improbable situation with her in less than a day if I were to tell you about our relationship. Not that our relationship is anything other than a sort-of friends, mostly enemies sort of thing. Alec would try to tell you otherwise, but don’t listen to him. He’s a firm believer in true love, and absolutely believed that his sister and I are soulmates of some sort. It’s ridiculous.”

“Wait a second,” Magnus gaped, stopping just outside of the Lightwood building and shivering slightly as the cold winter air hit his neck. “Are you telling me that Alec Lightwood, impassive and stern CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country, is secretly a hopeless romantic?”

“Not so secretly,” Clary chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “It’s a Lightwood family trait, not that they’ll ever admit it. Alec is a firm believer in love at first sight and all that nonsense, Isabelle cries every time a proposal happens, and Jace could wax poetry about his boyfriend for hours if we let him. I don’t know about their youngest sibling, since he hasn’t quite hit the end of his teenage years yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out the same way.”

“Well, well,” Magnus said softly, thinking about the Alec he had met that morning. Now that Clary mentioned it, he did seem like the type to have a cold exterior but a warm and fuzzy interior. “Colour me impressed. Actually, no, let’s not talk about colour in the same sentence as Alec. I’m sorry but, for all that everything else about him is rather beautiful, your best friend’s fashion sense is atrocious.”

Strangely enough, his words made Clary burst into giggles. The redhead shook her head at Magnus, and he could only frown as he wondered what he had said that was so funny.

“I’m sorry,” Clary waved a hand at him as she tried to get herself under control. “I swear you didn’t say anything that warranted that reaction, it’s just… Well, Alec doesn’t really care about what he wears, and a lot of people comment on how strange it is that he’s running a fashion company, but I swear he’s actually got a great eye when it comes to my collection, on top of being good at managing the business side of things.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that one,” Magnus snorted, thinking about the plain clothes Alec had worn both times he had seen him. Black suits, black shirts, nothing fancy at all. The fabrics had been good, but Magnus had a thing for colours, and Alec Lightwood clearly didn’t. “But speaking of, why did he decide to take over the fashion side of things? Almost everyone in the media world thought Isabelle would work in the fashion department whilst Alec followed in his mother’s footsteps, so why mix things up? No offence, but Isabelle has a certain amount of flair to her style that Alec doesn’t.”

“Hmm, but appearances can be deceiving,” Clary shrugged. “Isabelle always wanted to become a journalist, even though she loves modelling, and Alec wasn’t really interested in reporting and all of that, so the decision was an easy one to make. He gets to stay in his office most of the time, being a better CEO than Isabelle could be at this point in time, and she gets to write whatever she wants for her mother.”

Magnus hummed thoughtfully. It made sense, he supposed; Isabelle did appear to be a wonderful journalist, from what he had seen in the few days they had been working together. And Alec… Well, Magnus didn’t know much about the slightly awkward, slightly cold, very handsome man, but he had to admit that Alec was doing a great job with Lightwood Fashions. The company had never thrived more.

“Alright, well, thank you for answering all of my nosy questions about the Lightwoods,” Magnus said, smiling at Clary. “I know we haven’t really talked since I was hired, but I hope we’ll get to see more of each other in the future.”

“Oh, we definitely will,” Clary grinned, although the expression almost came off as more of a grimace. “Designers tend to be thrown around and asked for opinions all the time when production and creation and photoshoots start, so I’m going to be running around your life in the next few months. I hope you’re ready for a healthy dose of Fray, because there’ll be no way for you to avoid me.”

“I look forward to it,” Magnus smiled, turning around as Clary waved at him and headed to the left, in the opposite direction to where Magnus was heading.

As he watched her leave, he couldn’t help but think that he had truly found his place in the world at Lightwood Fashions. He had made friends with almost all the models, had found a good group of colleagues on the media side of things, had an amazing dynamic with Isabelle, was on speaking terms with Clary freaking Fray, and got to admire his very attractive boss every time the man stopped by the main modelling floor.

All in all, he had a feeling the next few months were going to be both hectic and absolutely wonderful.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic #my writing

4 notes · View notes

carmenlire · 5 years ago

Text

Haha Just Kidding. . . Unless?

read on ao3

Alec almost spits out his coffee as he hears Magnus’s confident answer.

“Kill Jace, Marry Simon, Fuck Alec.”

His best friend says it without blinking or taking a breath and the lunch table falls silent for a minute as everyone processes what Magnus has just said. Alec feels like he’s having a coronary and he hates himself, just a little-- okay a lot-- for the sheer yearning that response creates.

Jace immediately hops on the defensive. “Hey, why would you kill me? Et tu, Brute?” He tips his protein shake in Magnus’s direction. “I’ll have you know that I’m a hot piece of ass and ladies are lining up to get a shot at me.”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus replies, “You wear way too much product in your hair. Just the thought of running my hands through that greasy mess makes me ill. Plus, I don’t think we’ve ever had a civil conversation-- our marriage would be doomed from the start.”

Jace looks like he wants to protest but he just grumbles something nobody understands and chugs his shake. Instead, it’s Simon who straightens, looking intrigued and delighted.

“You’d marry me? Awe, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Magnus’s reply is absent as his eyes are locked on his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Alexander’s my first choice but since we’re roommates, it’s like we’re already married. You’re a lovely person, Sherman, and at least we have the same taste in music. Coming home to you every night ranks solidly in the middle of how I’d want to spend my time-- not great but better than hell.”

Simon snorts. “You charmer you.”

“Those are bold words, Bane,” Izzy interjects on the other side of the table and Alec didn’t even know she was paying attention. She has a biology test tonight and she’s been furiously reviewing her notes since she plopped down in the seat next to him. “Aren’t you afraid that sleeping with my brother would ruin your friendship?”

Magnus looks discomfited for a moment. It’s striking but Alec can’t read the look in his eyes as he looks uncharacteristically maudlin for a bare moment before he brightens again. Alec could almost believe he’d imagined the look of sour dejection.

“It’s just a game, Isabelle. Alec’s an attractive man and I, more than anybody else, should know how irresistible he is. We’ve been friends since middle school. If I was going to fuck anyone, shouldn’t it be someone I love and trust?”

Alec looks up and his gaze find its unerring way to Magnus’s. He feels a flush crawl up his neck as he meets the challenge in his best friend’s stare. Even though it was a silly game, as Alec looks at Magnus he can’t help but wish it was real instead of his best friend being his usually teasing and outrageous self.

Still. It’s Magnus and there’s really only response Alec can give him. “I love and trust you too, Magnus.”

He hears most of the table groan though Magnus himself doesn’t say anything. No, if Alec didn’t know better, he’d say his friend was struck speechless, though Alec detects the softening of his expression, his eyes growing wide before whatever emotion had flared bright in them is banked.

The moment suspends in time but before either one of them can say anything, Jace is cursing and breaking the moment. “Shit, we’ve got class in ten minutes, Alec.”

Alec groans but heaves himself up-- their class was on the other side of campus from the student center and they’d have to leave now and power walk to get there before Professor Herondale started lecturing. She takes Children’s Psych way too seriously and Alec really doesn’t want his participation grade docked for the day.

Shoving their things into their book bags, Alec and Jace leave with a round of goodbyes. As he passes Magnus, he feels his roommate sweep a hand over his back as he murmurs, “Bye, darling, see you later.”

It’s not until they’re halfway through class and ostensibly working on a group assignment that Jace punches him in the shoulder with a look like Alec’s supposed to know why the hell he just bruised him.

“What the fuck?”

Jace rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that shit. Did you hear what I heard at lunch? Magnus totally wants in your pants, dude.”

Wincing, Alec’s struck with a pang of resignation for his brother’s delicacy. “You know he didn’t mean it like that.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘fuck Alec.’ In what world does that not mean what it means?”

“Since we’re best friends and he was answering an asinine question,” Alec hisses back, glaring at Jace. “He probably just didn’t want to leave me out.”

Jace just levels him with a look. “You’re dumb as shit, you know that right?”

“Fuck off, Jace,” Alec snaps and Jace’s eyebrows shoot up at the vehemence in his tone.

“Woah, bro. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I thought it was good news! You know Magnus wouldn’t joke about boning his best friend just to do it. You mean too much to him and we all know how gone you’ve been over Magnus since, like, eighth grade.”

Alec sighs and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I can’t get my hopes up, Jace. I’ve been in love with him for years but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Groaning like they’ve gone around the block about this a thousand times-- because they have-- Jace facepalms. “How many times do I have to tell you-- Magnus feels what you feel but you’re both too stupid to get past your own hang-ups to talk about it.”

Alec doesn’t deign to answer and then Herondale is calling for the class’s attention at the front of the room. Both Jace and Alec slink down in their seats, desperately hoping they don’t get called on since they didn’t even make it through the front of the worksheet, let alone the back.

It’s dusk by the time Alec’s pushing his key in the lock of the apartment he shares with Magnus. Running a hand through his damp hair-- Rugby practice had ran over and his hair’s still wet from the shower he'd taken afterwards-- Alec pushes open their front door as he readjusts the bag on his shoulder.

He’s just set to call out a greeting to Magnus-- he’d texted his roommate when he’d gotten out of the shower to let him know when he’d be home-- and he smells pizza from where it must be waiting in the kitchen.

The words die on his lips, however, as he hears what sounds like Magnus arguing with someone.

“No, Cat, I’m a dumbass,” Magnus groans. “I can’t believe I just said it like that but it-- it just came out and I sure as hell wasn’t going to take the words back.”

Alec frowns, confused, though his lips twitch at Magnus’s propensity for being dramatic. Setting his bag down in the little hallway next to the door, he steps out of his Nike sandals and pads to the living room. Magnus is pacing in front of the tv but he comes to a stop with his back to him as he listens to Catarina on the other end.

He watches his friend’s shoulders slump and the urge to go over to Magnus and engulf him in one of his patented bear hugs is almost overwhelming. Hearing Magnus’s next words, though, Alec freezes, hardly daring to breathe.

“Of course I meant them,” Magnus sighs and he lifts a hand to rake it through already disheveled hair. “Alec could have me any way he wanted. The problem is that he doesn’t want. He just doesn’t see me like that, Cat.”

The words set off a chain reaction in Alec and he half thinks that he’s in the middle of an out of body experience. It seems too good to be true but when Magnus starts speaking again just a few seconds later, Alec allows the endless hope that he's been pushing down for years to spring to life.

“He’s my best friend and I’d rather have that than make a move and not even have him in my life anymore. I don’t think I could live without him at this point-- hell we’ve been roommates all four years of college and before that we had sleepovers at each other’s houses at least three times a week. No,” Magnus says resolutely. “This afternoon was just a game and it doesn’t matter if I’m in love Alec and want him to dick me down into next week I--”

At that moment, Magnus turns around whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he sees Alec standing there in the doorway.

Neither one says anything for a long moment.

Alec hears Cat grow progressively louder through the phone, her tinny voice growing more insistent as Magnus doesn’t say anything.

Finally, Magnus mumbles, “Bye, Cat,” and hangs up. Dropping his arm, Magnus looks up at Alec with fear in his eyes. His devastation is fairly palpable in their tiny living room.

While Alec still feels like he walked on set of a tv show he’s never seen before, it’s the most natural thing in the world to move until he’s standing right in front of his roommate, his best friend.

Swallowing hard, with Magnus’s words ringing in his ears, Alec scrapes enough courage together to say, “You love me?”

And it should be a ridiculous question-- because duh. They’ve been friends for almost ten years-- over half their lives. Magnus was the first person Alec came out to and he was the first and only person Magnus called their freshman year when his at home perm went horribly wrong and they fit together like they’re made for each other.

Alec’s often thought that if he couldn’t have it all then it was enough to be Magnus’s platonic soulmate, his very best friend.

Now, though, he’s struck by the most fervent longing and he can hardly believe his eyes but he thinks he sees it reflected in Magnus’s gaze.

He watches as Magnus takes a deep breath before leaning imperceptibly closer. His voice is scarcely a breath when he corrects, “You must have heard wrong, Alexander. I said that I’m in love with you.”

The words pierce the spell that seems to have fallen over them and without thinking, Alec’s lunging forward, cupping Magnus’s cheeks and hauling him close for a kiss that feels like coming home.

By the time they pull apart, they’re both breathing hard. Alec doesn’t open his eyes immediately, instead content to nose along Magnus’s jaw. He relishes the closeness, the feel of Magnus sweeping absent hands over his back.

Without thinking, he says, “Oh, thank God.”

He’s gratified to hear Magnus snort before he’s pulling back and looking at Alec with the world’s fondness in his eyes. “I think that’s my line.”

And Alec doesn’t know what it is-- the relief and happiness on Magnus’s face, the way he’s stroking a thumb over Alec’s shoulder in a move that doesn’t even seem conscious, or the simple fact that he’s so happy that it feels like he’s exploding-- but everything melts away except making sure Magnus understands his feelings.

“What,” he says softly, hint of a grin curling over his mouth. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be madly in love with you, too?”

He watches the words land on his best friend-- the way Magnus’s eyes widen and flare bright with delight, the shudder that wracks him as he pulls Alec closer.

It’s Magnus who closes that distance a second time and the kiss is far gentler but contains so much more depth that Alec feels like he’s drowning.

They collapse on the couch just a few feet away and spend the rest of the night kissing and laughing and getting caught up on their shows. By the time they remember, their pizza is cold but neither one minds as they bring the box straight to the where they’re sitting in the living room.

When it’s late and they’re both full and exhausted, Alec stands and lets the blanket that had been wrapped around them fall to the floor. Keeping Magnus’s hand in his, he takes a single step back towards his bedroom. “Ready?”

It’s an innocuous enough question. It’s a statement of fact that they spend more time sleeping together than they do apart-- a hold over from all of those sleepovers growing up-- but the single word is loaded with meaning tonight. In the dim light of their apartment, Alce watches a dozen emotions flit over a face he knows as well as his own, though damned if he can read them.

But Magnus doesn’t hesitate as he squeezes his hand and climbs gracefully to his feet. “Lead the way, darling.”

The two fall asleep wrapped around each other in Alec’s shitty twin bed. Alec had thought he’d be too wired to fall asleep after the day he’d had but with Magnus so close and his heart at ease for the first time in ages, he drifts off almost immediately.

The next morning, the two of them wake up and when their gazes crash together-- both of them eager to prove that the night before wasn’t just a dream-- they each breath a sigh of relief. They have a long, incredibly overdue conversation while they make breakfast and by the time they’re sitting down to eat their infamous french toast, they’re on the same page.

A few days later, when they join their friends at lunch, Magnus and Alec keeping holding hands even as the group’s eyes zero in on them.

It’s silent for a beat before Isabelle starts crowing, startling everyone. “Holy shit,” she exclaims and while her smile lights up her face as she shoots a happy look at Alec, it quickly turns mercenary as she turns it to Jace. “You owe me fifty bucks-- I told you that giving Magnus a FMK scenario would settle things.”

When Jace stares at Isabelle before going to Magnus and Alec’s hands, before going back to Izzy, Alec figures no one’s surprised when he jumps out of his seat. Pointing at Alec, he says in a serious tone, “I’m happy for you, bro-- it’s about time,” before pivoting to point at Isabelle and saying just as seriously, “You’ll have to kill me for it,” and running out of the student hub like his ass is on fire.

Everyone waits to see how Izzy will react but she just shrugs carelessly and takes a bite out of her candy bar. “I know where he sleeps and where he keeps his protein powder.”

Everyone laughs and Magnus and Alec share an exasperated, if fond, look as they take their seats.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands the whole meal, which makes eating lunch a little difficult, but neither one minds at all.

#don't ask me where this came from lmao #but it was a lot of fun!!#haha just kidding. . . unless #my writing #malec fic

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normal-thoughts-official · 5 years ago

Note

Ok uhhh claia, lukemaryse and malec superhero au headcanons

first of all, id just like to say that i love this new trend of u guys sending me really vague prompts and giving me complete creative freedom to do whatever i want with them. i think it really shows that u trust me to create good, interesting content, and that means a lot to me. second of all, that trust is entirely misplaced. why would you ever think that id make something good. have you met me. what im trying to say here is basically: this is your own fault

behold:

In a world where everyone has a superpower, the world is bound to work a little different. No one knows what determines people's superpowers; some are fairly common (like teleportation, which led to a lot of ppl working as cabs, taking ppl to and from wherever they need) and others are unique and particularly powerful (and also dangerous, which is why particularly powerful people are part of an elite squad dedicated to keep the world safe; our very own superheroes)

Alec's superpower is definitely unique: he can sense trash. That's it. Hes just going around, living his life, sensing trash. He knows when people are littering. He can sense it from a pretty far away distance. Everywhere he goes, he knows where all the trash cans are. His life is just. Him and the trash, everywhere, haunting him

No one's ever heard of this before. Alec's mom, maryse, can bend all four elements, and is part of the Elite Squad; so is his father, although he retired from action and works behind a desk now. His sister izzy has superspeed and was trained to perfect combat in the hopes she would follow their footsteps, but ultimately decided to give it up and become a biologist instead. And Alec. Can sense trash

This was the source of a lot of Family Drama, since alec's parents were pretty strict and held their position as elite superheroes with pride, expecting nothing less from their children. But after many years of trying and failing to somehow make up for it, Alec decided to say fuck them and fully embraced who he is, refusing to live in apology. Once he finally left their house to live on his own, maryse realised he meant wanting to cut them off his life for real, and came around. Robert's lack of understanding was one of the factors that led to their divorce

Alec became an architect and works to build better and efficient waste collection systems in the country. Due to his power, he knows which places need the most infrastructure investment, as well as the problems that lead to the littering. He also knows which companies are illegally discarding their waste and how, the exact effects of that on the environment, and a lot of stuff that would otherwise only be possible through extensive research. He is an activist for both a better public, free, universal waste removal system, and stricter regulations on companies that profit from environmental destruction.

And the thing is, he likes this life. He's passionate about it. Everyday at work he gets to do a little something to make the world better and fight against injustice and use his place of privilege that comes from his education and his so-called "useless" superpower for change. He wouldn't trade it for the world and he's really passionate about what he does, even if it does take up most of his time

So when his mom comes in one day saying that a new villain named Trash Man is going around and killing people and they need his help to track him, Alec is not. amused.

First of all: Trash Man? come on

But he kind of has no choice, since this is top priority at the moment and the very ministery of security is calling him or something - every citizen is required to register their powers so they know exactly when they're needed

So he goes, and for the first time, he meets the rest of his mom's Top Secret team; first of all, there's the leader, Luke: his power is persuasion and hes very good at de-escalating events to guarantee minimal damage and better solutions, making him the most valuable asset of the team. Then there's Maryse, and under them, a team of relatively young, but very powerful, heroes: maia, a shapeshifter; clary, who can summon weapons and is very good at Stabbing; and Magnus, who can bend time and space

Magnus is also kind of the Group Genius; his power also got him an special interest in physics and chemistry, meaning that he is not only able to use his power intelligently and creatively, but effectively enhance it; he's also very good with tech and responsible for a lot of their non-power-related assets. Honestly, he likes that part way better than the crime-fighting blah blah blah, but he kind of has no choice over what he does because he's an orphan and extremely powerful, meaning he's viewed as a threat by the government while simultaneously being dependant on them, and would pretty much have nowhere to turn to if he didnt start working for them

But really, he wants to be a scientist. He wants to do good things. He wants to create stuff that will make people's lives, and the world, better. He doesn't even believe in this whole "crime fighting" shit; he believes in a just world crime would be minimal and using their resources to fight bad guys instead of working on crime prevention is an absolute waste. But it's not like anybody asked for his opinion.

Alec and Magnus immediately hit it off; Alec was kind of tense at first because surely these guys would have the world's hugest chip on their shoulder, right? But instead everyone welcomes him, and Magnus kind of jokes that he envies him, which takes him by surprise

Because Maia and Clary are both Magnus' great friends as well, Alec also gets closer to them; Clary can be a little self-centered and annoying, but she's cool and Maia always calls her out on it. Maia is a fierce, amazing, smart girl and Alec can totally see why she and Magnus are so close, with their similar sense of humor, shared experiences (Maia is not an orphan but she ran away from home when she was pretty young), and gleaming, almost mischievous intelligence and talent. Alec can hold a conversation with them alright, since as an architect he needs quite some knowledge of physics and as an activist he can also hold pretty good and deep conversations with them about the system and its flawed, unjust logic; but there are some topics they get into that just kind of escalate and seem to get them in their own little world. Alec finds himself watching from the sidelines sometimes, and while he admires that - and doesnt miss the way clary will sometimes sit beside him and watch them as well, a small smile on her face that tells him everything he needs to know - he finds himself... a little upset by it, too

Not that he has a problem with them, but he finds himself wanting to feel like he belongs, and that's kind of- new. It's not like his life is a sad wet sock of loneliness or anything, he has his sister, he has some friends, but he's a private kind of guy and he finds himself more comfortable at the sidelines than the spotlight, except when it comes to his work, because hes good at that

It's just his luck, then, that Trash Man turns out to be really smart and hard to track due to [vague plot noises], giving him all the time he needs to, well, figure this out

So he spends more time with them, particularly Magnus. The both of them will sometimes sit talking for hours, and soon learn a lot about each other. Magnus listens, enraptured, whenever Alec goes on a passionate Trash Rant™ and Alec is always in awe by Magnus' smart solutions. They begin some sort of camraderie that's also laced with Magnus' oh-so-smooth flirting, which started strong and eventually died out as Magnus began to realize he really liked Alec and his usual confidence and devil-may-care attitude vanished. But Alec mistakes this as Magnus losing interest or him seeing things. Cue lots of mutual pining

At least once Alec gets thrown through a wall by some villain; but, little did he know, it wasnt just a normal wall that he broke; it was the fourth wall. Alec looks straight into the reader's eyes, and goes: "I can sense trash. That's why, in this AU, i was never friends with jace". Then Magnus comes in and takes him back to the other side of the wall, and Alec blinks, confused, not remembering what had just happened. This is never mentioned again

Idk theres some gay shit in here, Alec introduces Magnus to Izzy and Magnus is absolutely in awe with her work. Izzy specializes in pollinators and works trying to restore the bee population and guarantee a more sustainable environment. Her work crosses with Alec's a surprising amount of times, and Magnus, who loves both animals and the incredible amount of knowledge her research requires, and they become super good friends almost immediately, which makes Alec very pleased.

More gay shit, Alec and Magnus decide to team up to try and get Clary and Maia together, only to be knocked sideways when they find out they're already dating. Maryse is like "do the four of you ever work" and Alec is hit with the realisation that his mom, too, kind of lives in the sidelines when it comes to things that arent work; luke seems to be kind of the mediator between her and the rest of the team, which is kind of sad. She does seem to have a good relationship with Luke, tho

Eventually they defeat Trash Man and Alec is no longer required to work for them and can go back to his trash activism; and when he does, so does Magnus, who is invited to work with izzy's team, which he gladly accepts

Somehow Alec confesses? And Magnus is in awe because he of course never expected Alec to like him back but. It turns out Alec is the most confident out of the two of them despite their exterior telling most people otherwise. And Magnus just says that yes he likes him back and will go out with him and they kiss passionately in the middle of the lab surrounded by bees but there are also flowers so theres that. And then they get married. I mean not right after but some years later

Magnus leaving inspires the rest of them, in some ways; Maia, Luke and Maryse start actually fighting to change the crime fighting policies to investment in crime prevention because new supervillains will always keep coming. The romantic tension between them finally snaps and they start going out. Maryse seems like such a different person now, more open and happier. Alec is pleased

They save the bees and the trash and the impending environmental apocalypse that looms over us is avoided idk that's all Ive got

Again this is your fault

The end

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, @chefhector!

I hope you like this. It was supposed to be "just" a soulmate AU but it suddenly became a wing-fic as well.

Read on AO3

*****

What change can do

Alec's mark is in the same place as everyone else's. He was born with it, he carries it on the inside of his wrist, just like everyone else.

For a child, a soulmark doesn't mean much. Parents, reasonably, tell their children not to worry about it, because it will come to be important on its own, later. Much later.

Maryse is the same kind of parent. Her children are supposed to learn and train and when the time comes, they'll find their partners because that's how it goes. Maryse doesn't care for the romantic aspect of the partnership. She was never Robert's soulmate, anyway, but they made it work.

Nephilim are there to keep the world safe and it's important for them to find their mates for one reason: Soulbond makes you stronger.

Alec grows up aware of it but he's also taught to only ever rely on himself. No Soulbond can make one a better Shadowhunter if one wasn't already a good Shadowhunter to begin with. Besides, Shadowhunters die. It's not as often as it used to be, thanks to the evolving technology, but their calling is still a dangerous one. There is no sign to tell them that their soulmate has already died and the marks are unchanging from birth to death.

At seventeen, Alec lies in bed after a successful patrol, looking at his wrist in the low light of the lamp on the nightstand. He hasn't decided yet what he feels about the complicated pattern. Of course, he prefers to have it rather than not because it would be completely strange if he didn't have one but he wonders sometimes how it'd be like to live without a person destined to be with you. Would it be simpler?

Sometimes he thinks his mother thinks so. She isn't too willing to discuss his mark with him, preferring to go over reports instead to teach him how to approve them.

The Lightwood children know their parents aren't soulmates. Alec wonders if that's why his mother looks at his mark strangely sometimes and why she doesn't encourage him to search for his mate.

Maryse directs him to more leading than hunting positions and it only makes sense she'd want her own heir to the Institute. The leaders are chosen on their merits but it doesn't stop the oldest bloodlines from keeping up their aristocracy status all over Nephilim world. Alec doesn't mind his mother's ambitions for him. He has his own ambitions and he can see himself where his mother is when he's old enough.

It's all fine.

It isn't until he's nearing 19 years of age when he realizes his mark isn't quite like the others. Obviously, they all differ from each other like snowflakes but his is different.

Alec only sees that when he's with his sister, adoptive brother, his soulmate, and their friends: the consul's daughter and her soulmate. Aline and Helen have met four months ago and they are one of the pairs proving that soulmates really become better together. Quicker, stronger, more observant, healing faster.

Jace and Clary are another pair. (Alec's complicated feelings about not matching up with Jace are his own secret.)

Just like Alec, Izzy hasn't met her mate yet but Alec personally believes she shouldn't want to rush.

Of course, his sister wants to have her mate already. She's full of energy, an excellent warrior on her own, and she can't wait to be even better than that.

That day, they end up discussing the Soulbond and the marks in their little group and it's then that Alec sees his pattern is simply different from everyone else's. The marks are like a dense pattern, an ornament on the skin made from crossing straight lines. His is the same size as the others, fitting the width of the wrist, but it isn't made up from just straight lines. There are two loops and one s-like line among the crossing triangles and octagons.

Alec knows their parents don't have any curling lines, either, but he never gave it a second thought before. He never studied other marks before, because he didn't care to and it'd be a little rude to stare at someone's mark outside of the family.

He doesn't know if it means anything.

Nephilim society is much, much smaller than the mundane one and finding one's mate is also much, much easier than in the mundane world. There have been ideas of creating a database with photos of marks made in childhood but it was never implemented because of reasonable concerns about the soulmates' safety in case someone didn't like their children marrying into a specific family.

When he's 21, Alec's mother still doesn't seem to think he should be actively looking for his mate. She keeps him busy with work, preparing him for his future.

And maybe it makes sense- if he's supposed to be in the Institute leading it, it matters less for him to have a compatible partner to be better fighters with. It matters more that he knows the Law and the procedures, and it's more important that he meets other Institute leaders and diplomats to give a good foundation for his career, not his soulmate partnership.

The only thing is, Alec wants to be loved.

Alec still goes on patrols because it wouldn't do for him to lose his good form and be out of practice for when it will be needed. The mundanes go about their lives unaware of the demonic threat hanging over them, kept back efficiently by the Shadowhunters.

They're also unaware of the other layer of the world: the underworld, the Downworld, the dark realm of magic and creatures with only half of human blood.

The Nephilim generally don't interact with them unless there is a demon summoning involved and the responsible warlock has to be found. The magic users of the Downworld are capable of summoning demons or making requests of them but to be fair, that happens rarely.

They stay away from each other since the oldest times, the Nephilim not wanting to mingle with those with tainted blood and the Downworlders not caring to be around the uppity winged creatures.

There have been some attempts at establishing diplomatic relations but those attempts had an effect for maybe ten years each time and they were only local for certain Institutes, not spanning the whole underworld.

Surprisingly for Alec, his sister becomes interested in the history of those relations. She comes to him after one of her patrols, talking about the people she's met in the mundane world, ones with half-demon blood.

Alec isn't very approving of that, not wanting his sister to put herself in danger. Not that there have been many cases of conflict but Alec prefers them to be safe rather than sorry.

Downworlders aren't forbidden from coming to the mundane world but they rarely do so because a warlock is needed to let them through. There are exceptions where Downworlders make a life for themselves in the mundane world. Most of the time they're warlocks and werewolves.

Isabelle is sitting sideways on the edge of his desk, looking down at him.

"Look, do you really think we should live like this forever? Separate?"

Alec's eyebrows rise.

"Yes? What need do we have to be working with them? We're doing our work on our own and we don't need distractions from that."

"You sound exactly like mom, you know that?"

"Maybe it's because that's what she taught us, because it's right?"

"I just think that's lazy. We could get help from them. We could get information from them. Unlike us, some Downworlders have mundane spouses and they live in the mundane world."

Alec sighs.

"I know that. It still doesn't make them useful to us. One, they'd have to run across demons to give us information about them or two, they'd have to betray their own kind to tell us about those who summon demons."

"It wouldn't have to be a betrayal. They don't want demons as much as we don't want them. It's like saying the mundanes wouldn't ever talk about their mundane criminals."

Izzy looks exasperated and maybe even a little angry with him.

"Maybe so. We still have more important things to do than that."

"Would you consider going there with me, just to see if maybe they'd be willing to talk with us?"

"Izzy, no. I'm not going anywhere to try something that isn't even going to get us anything."

She turns around and storms off without a word.

Over the next two weeks, Alec figures out that his sister isn't running into Downworlders randomly in the mundane world. She is going to them.

Nephilim are allowed to go to the underworld but since there's just no need for them to ever do that, they're out of place in the markets of the Downworld, what with their wings and their over-serious attitudes.

Alec finds himself there one day, following his sister. He's very much out of place. He tucks his wings behind him to make himself smaller because he'd hate to accidentally knock something over in the more cramped streets of the market.

He hasn't lost track of Isabelle but he's taking his time, looking around. This place is not different from the mundane markets in terms of layout or architecture. What's different is the werewolf, warlock and Seelie sellers and patrons. And vampires, too. In the underworld, the light is not their enemy.

Alec is glancing at the wares, the potions and amulets, and other perfectly ordinary items needed for everyday life.

It's a little noisy.

Two collared hellhounds run past him, barking excitedly.

A minute later child runs up to Alec. He startles a little because the only child he ever interacted with so far was his own little brother so he's not entirely sure how to proceed with a stranger's kid. What he knows, though, is that he should lean down to hear what the kid wants from him.

Alec crouches down and the child's eyes widen, clearly focusing on what's behind Alec's face: on his wings.

"Hello," Alec says.

"Hello," the child echoes. And then: "Are those real?"

Alec chuckles. "Yes. They are real. Do you know about Nephilim?"

The child nods and keeps staring.

"I'm visiting for a little while."

"Oh."

It's an 'oh' full of awe more than just acknowledgement of the information.

Alec can't fight the smile that's curling his lips. He waits. The messy-haired child is still looking at him, wide-eyed, and he wonders if he'll be asked more questions.

Then he sees the question is clearly coming.

"Can you take a feather out?"

Not quite what he expected, but…

"Just one? Yes."

"Will you? Please, would you give me one?" The boy's hopeful face wins him over.

"One for you, because you asked politely," Alec says with acted solemnity.

The boy claps his hands in excitement.

Alec looks over his shoulder, unfolding his left wing a little to find a suitable feather. There are some that need to be removed soon to make room for new, undamaged ones. He picks the best one so that the kid can have it.

He hands it over and the kid hesitates before taking it in his little hand. Once he has it, he gasps, shouts thanks to Alec and runs off. There's a little group of children watching them a little distance away and the boy runs to them, showing his treasure.

Alec chuckles. Max used to be just as easily excited when he was that young. He still is young but he's so interested in learning new things now, he doesn't play as often as he used to.

Alec stands up from his crouch, knowing that he's now more behind on searching for his sister than he was. When he straightens up, he sees something.

A warlock is watching him and probably has been watching since he started talking to the child. He's leaning against the wall with one shoulder, his pose casual, his head tilted in a curious manner.

He's beautiful.

Alec blinks.

The warlock smiles.

Alec stands there, waiting to see if the man wants something from him, even though he should go on his way.

With grace, the man uncrosses his arms, straightens and walks over to Alec. He gives Alec an obvious once-over, including his wings.

"What is a child of the Angels doing down here? What do you want from us?"

"Nothing," Alec shakes his head. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh? You don't want anything from us, which means there is another one of you around for you to wait for?"

"No, I-" Alec flounders for an excuse but the man raises his hand.

"Relax, little bird. I'm not accusing you of anything."

Alec doesn't relax. He crosses his arms on his chest.

The stranger warlock seems amused for some reason but Alec prefers to be careful and do his best to avoid angering anyone around.

The warlock speaks again: "Is the one you're waiting for dark-haired and winged as you are?"

"Maybe."

"Family?" He makes a gesture indicating Alec's wings. "Same patterned feathers."

"Maybe."

The stranger chuckles. "Do you want me to take you to Isabelle, little bird?"

Alec's eyes narrow. Do these people know his sister by name? He doesn't try to pretend anymore so he nods.

"I would like to hear your name first," the warlock says. "If you're willing to give it."

"Alec."

"So short?" he tilts his head as if he's trying to fit the name to the man. Then, he gives his hand for Alec to shake.

"Magnus Bane."

When Alec does, static electricity that passes between them makes his fingers twitch in surprise. The no-longer-stranger feels it, too, but he doesn't say anything.

"Follow me, Alec."

Alec follows. They walk side by side, the warlock's movements are graceful, fluid. Alec is stealing glances at him, at his hair and his black-lined eyes, and the silver earcuff on his right ear.

He's not like the others. The jewelry and make-up stand out the most and Alec realizes that the whole area looks… kind of poor. Not like slums but there is a certain level of restraint in the clothing of the people around. Minimal jewelry, clothing appropriate for the weather and not fancy. No, not poor – modest.

Both the Nephilim and Downworlders have different fashions from the mundane people and Alec can see the difference between his own people and those walking past him and Magnus.

He eyes Magnus again. Warlocks have magic and therefore are the most respected members of the Downworld. It'd make sense for them to be better dressed than the others. Still, Alec supposes magic can't make money or else things would be looking very differently here.

They've entered the residential area. Alec wouldn't have ventured here on his own without some reservations and when he'd come here first, his tracking told him Izzy was somewhere near the market. Now he knows she isn't there anymore because he's lost too much time and he decides to just follow Magnus.

Knowing his sister's name isn't enough for Alec to remotely trust him but Alec also doesn't want to offend anyone by being overly cautious. If anything happens, he has his weapons on him, concealed.

"Here we are," Magnus makes a grand gesture at the door which is too plain to be presented to anyone this way.

"Is this someone's home or…?"

"Or." Magnus smirks.

Alec looks at the building. It's modest, normal for the underworld. It's clean and tidy around it. There are hanging lacy curtains in the windows so he can't see anything inside.

"Lead the way," Alec tells his warlock guide.

They enter and immediately hear the voices of the house's occupants. Isabelle's voice is among them and the others sound like children.

Alec is confused but more than that, he's curious. Even though he could now go to his sister on his own, following the sounds, he waits for Magnus to take him to the right room.

Isabelle is sitting in a large living room, a whole group of children of various ages around her and an adult woman with blue skin and white hair is bowed over the same thing Izzy is looking at.

Alec and Magnus stop in the open door and Magnus is silent while Alec takes the scene in. Soon enough, he realizes that Isabelle is drawing blood from one of the children under the blue woman's watchful eye. To his surprise, the other kids are watching too, curious rather than afraid of the needle. Leave it to Isabelle to make them interested in a procedure normally considered scary by kids.

He would have hated to distract her from such a delicate work so only when she's done, does he speak up.

"Hello?" He starts, hesitating over his words. After all, it's not like he was invited to follow her. Although, on the other hand, she had tried to talk with him about the underworld. She probably would have asked him to come with her.

Isabelle looks up, surprised, but then she smiles widely when she sees him.

"Alec!" She stands up and the children make room for her to get to the door.

"What are you doing here? You followed me? Or is something wrong topside?"

"No, nothing is wrong, I only… wanted to see what you're doing."

"Well, you found me. And if you're willing to listen now, I will tell you all about what I've been doing."

She pauses and looks at the man still standing beside Alec.

"Thank you for bringing my brother here instead of chasing him off."

Magnus shrugs.

"He didn't do anything to deserve chasing. And it was no hardship," he gives Alec a pointed look that the Nephilim struggles to understand. Those golden eyes have a power to make him flustered, it seems, so Alec seeks a distraction – no, wait, it's the other way around. He's here for a serious matter and those eyes are the distraction.

"All right," Alec turns to his sister, "so what is this?"

"This is an orphanage and I am here to help with the sickness that has been weakening Downworlder children."

Alec frowns. "Is it serious?"

"Not yet," Isabelle answers and at the same time, Magnus says: "It can be."

"Okay," Alec says slowly, "How did you even know about this?"

"I ran into one warlock in the mundane world on my regular patrol. He was looking for some things to help with potions. We talked. He suggested that I see this for myself. So I did."

"And now? What are you going to do? Researching this?"

She nods. "I'll be taking the blood samples to our lab, see what I can find out."

Alec has several conflicting thoughts in his head. He isn't entirely surprised that Isabelle decided to do something like this. She's good at science and figuring things out. She's also compassionate.

At the same time, Alec wonders if she's here in part to spite their mother and maybe in a way, him.

But it doesn't really matter. What matters is that she's here, she's doing this and Alec knows she won't stop.

The best he can do is get some more information.

When he starts asking more questions, Magnus interrupts him gently and suggests they go sit down instead of standing in the living room with the kids.

First, he walks over to the other woman and exchanges some words with her. She's been watching them talk but she didn't leave the children to join them.

Then, Magnus leads them to a side room which looks like an office, if it was normal for offices to have amulets and magical artefacts all over the shelves, fighting for space with the many books, no doubt containing spells.

Alec tucks his wings close again but Isabelle appears to be much more at ease. How many times has she already come here?

Magnus sits down with the same grace he walks and does anything else. Alec chastises himself for noticing.

"Like she already said, your lovely sister has offered to help us with some problems we've been struggling within our world. This sickness, in particular, is a concern…"

"Can't you heal it with magic? Potions?"

Magnus nods slowly. "We can. It's not deadly for the time being. If you came down from your world a little more often, you'd have known there aren't that many warlocks around. We can't be medics around the clock. Potions require time as well as ingredients. Broken limbs in werewolves, young warlocks poisoning themselves with their own potions, the occasional demon crossing over to our side. We handle all of that."

Alec glances at Isabelle.

"They can go to mundane medics only if they have an identity in the mundane world," Isabelle says. "And only with non-magical problems."

"Do you think we can help?" Alec asks. "We're not like them-," then he looks at Magnus, "like you. I mean, biologically and magically."

"We're different," the warlock agrees. "But you have means of helping. Your kind always has but we barely even exist for you."

Alec frowns.

"Isn't that what everyone wanted? Three worlds, separate to keep peace in each of them?"

A strange expression crosses the warlocks face.

"Yes, isn't that what everyone wanted… You are right, of course, about the peace. It has worked well for a long time. But minding our own business shouldn't mean abandoning relations completely. Or do you think it should?"

Faced with a direct question like that, Alec wonders. His mind is going over everything their mother has ever said about the underworld.

'Don't bother them', 'don't waste your time on someone who doesn't even want you there', 'we're watching over the whole mundane world and there's not enough of us to spare. They've got their warlocks'.

"Do you want to maintain relations with us?" Alec answers with a question.

"You don't know that we've asked for assistance a few times? Many years ago. We stopped trying."

"I- didn't know."

"I can believe that. You're young."

Isabelle speaks up: "We've got a chance to change that. Help them with the sickness, gain some trust and goodwill."

"Iz… that's not a decision for you to make for us all."

She doesn't waver.

"I may not be the leader but I do know this is the right thing to do. And you are going to be the leader so I think you should be here and hear these things."

"I am here but if you think I can do anything at this time… I'm just the possible candidate."

Magnus is watching them closely. "You're going to be the leader?" he repeats.

Alec would have preferred this detail to stay unknown and he shoots his sister a disapproving look.

To Magnus, he answers truthfully. "I might be. Most likely."

"All right, so you're from the big-name families."

"Do you… mind?"

"Nah. It doesn't make any difference to me. You're all the same Nephilim to me."

Alec isn't sure if that was supposed to be a positive thing. Probably not.

He realizes he doesn't want this warlock to think badly of them, for some reason. Well, the warlock certainly appreciates Izzy but he doesn't know Alec yet. Alec, who should be finding a way to convince Iz to go home but who is more interested in having Magnus talk to him more instead. Magnus, who is beautiful, has eyes of a cat and who is looking at Alec like he wants to ask all of his secrets.

When the woman from the other room comes in to apologize and ask Magnus's assistance with something, Alec finds himself strangely disappointed.

Magnus goes with her but first he thanks Isabelle for today's help and voices his hope that she'll be able to keep helping them. As for Alec, Magnus stops in front of him, tilts his head in that way he's done before, and looks Alec up and down.

"And you, pretty boy, are welcome to drop by any time. Even if you're going to silently disapprove of your sister, I could use the eye-candy."

Alec flushes, his face growing hot while he's failing to find an answer. No one's ever said anything like that to him. Magnus doesn't wait for him to find it, he leaves to follow his fellow warlock back to the kids.

Alec's left with his sister in the warlock office. He's stubbornly looking down at the floor until his blush goes down.

On their way back to cross over to the mundane world and back home, Isabelle tells Alec more. He finds out the blue woman is Catarina, a warlock medic. She tells him more about the orphanage and other sick kids, who have Downworlder families worrying about them. She tells Alec about other people she's met there and knows by name.

He can hear it in her voice how eager and determined she is to help.

They walk and she tells him more about the Downworld.

When they're out of there, they take flight.

Instead of going straight home, Alec tells Izzy to go take her samples to the lab because he wants to fly a little longer.

* *

He doesn't go with her the next time she leaves, even though she tells him she plans to go.

Alec ends up bringing up the Nephilim-Downworld relations with Maryse one day and knows immediately he shouldn't have. She shuts anything he says down, telling him he doesn't have the time for this now. If she's going to step down and move to a position in their home world, she has to know he's ready to keep up with the standard she's set up in the New York outpost.

Alec knows all that and he's working hard. He's doing everything she ever told he should and more on top of that, because he set a bar high for himself, too.

And yet, she speaks to him like he's about to disappoint her. In fact, he's surprised by how irritated she is by him mentioning the Downworld, especially when she realizes he's actually gone there. She doesn't have the right to forbid him from going there but he feels like she would have done it if she could.

He drops it because he's taken aback by her reaction and a little hurt. He'll try again after he's figured out how to convince her it's not a waste of time.

Alec goes with Isabelle the next time. They fly together, cross the two worlds to get to the Downworld.

They appear in the market, as Alec has done the first time and Isabelle leads him back to the same orphanage building.

Magnus isn't there and Alec's mood drops. Still, he spends time with the kids Isabelle is examining. He plays with werewolf pups and notices there's more of them than warlock and seelie children counted together.

Alec isn't sure what he's even doing there. He has no skills to help out and it feels like he's there to accompany Isabelle and find out more about the Downworld. Maybe that has to be enough for now.

His thing would be to talk with the adults, learn more from them. Find out what they're thinking about the Nephilim. He's planning to do that but he needs Magnus to be his guide and his first contact because Alec isn't about to start bothering the others in the streets.

Magnus does appear before an hour passes. The Lightwoods are still there, Isabelle is talking with Catarina in the office and Alec is looking over the whole orphan group. Having wings helps immensely in keeping children interested. They've seen Isabelle's already but his are larger to fit his larger form and are more of an attraction.

Alec doesn't know that Magnus has been watching them for a good while before stepping inside the room to say hello to the kids and Alec.

He's welcomed loudly and with excitement. While the group crowds around him, Alec has a moment to look at the warlock. He's in a dark purple shirt today, purple streaks in his hair to match. His pants and jacket are dark, making Alec think of storm clouds.

Silver rings shine on his fingers when he makes an elaborate gesture, his magic forming around his hand to produce a satchel full of something. Kids cry out, clearly happy and expecting something in particular from this.

Alec assumes Magnus has a habit of bringing them all sorts of little gifts. Maybe candy.

Magnus tells them to share and warns he'll be making sure later that everyone got one. The tallest child gets the satchel and the group leaves to go investigate the contents in the play corner where a low and wide table stands for kids to use.

Smiling, Magnus watches them go and then turns to look straight at Alec.

"I hope you're not giving away any more feathers, little bird. We've had many children born these past years so you might just be left with nothing."

Alec shrugs. "They regrow," he says, pretending full seriousness.

"Well, in that case maybe I should ask for one as well."

"Do you want one?"

Magnus doesn't reply. He's looking at Alec and Alec returns his gaze.

And then, Magnus says: "Follow me, please."

Alec does without asking questions. Since the office is taken by Catarina and Isabelle, Magnus leads him to another room in the building. The corridor is as plain as the rest of it that Alec has already seen and it leads them to a room in the back with large windows. They can see the back garden through them.

The plants of the underworld are unlike than the ones topside. Their bark is darker and their shapes more twisted. Not ugly, but strange. Low bushes fill the space between the tall ones and their flowers are past their prime- it's no longer the season for new blooms.

Magnus didn't bring Alec there to look at the local flora.

He stops by the window with Alec following him closely and he turns to face him.

"Alexander," he begins and surprises Alec with the full name. Did Isabelle tell him? Did they talk about him?

"The night after your visit, we had an outbreak of the sickness. It surprised us. Catarina had already used most of her reserves of magic that day so I took over. I sent word to another warlock to come to help me when I would inevitably run out as well… Catarina distributed potions and began making new batches while I healed those who were brought to us. It took hours. The requested help came but.. I still had magic in me to heal. By morning, we've stopped the progress of the sickness in all the children so that the potions could work from there. I still haven't run out. I portalled home and dropped in my bed… tired but without a headache."

Alec is listening, wondering why Magnus would tell him all that. The warlock is speaking softly as if he doesn't want anyone to listen in, even though they're alone.

"Do you know what this means, Alexander?"

Alec thinks about it and comes up empty.

"No?"

"I got a boost," Magnus says. "My magical reserves were bottomless that night. And the only stranger I had interacted with that day for more than five minutes had been you."

Alec's throat becomes tight. "I don't know what you mean."

"Haven't you noticed your wings becoming tireless for a day? Haven't you possibly fought a demon and slayed it in record time?"

Alec opens his mouth to speak but no fitting words come to his mind. He had been flying for hours after he'd parted ways with Isabelle. His wings didn't ache the following day.

"Do you want to see my soulmark?" Magnus asks gently, softly, as if the question might offend Alec.

Alec manages to find his voice but it comes out raspy. "If you want-"

Magnus rolls up the left sleeve of his shirt and a black, dense pattern becomes visible. He offers his wrist to Alec, who leans closer.

Two loops, an s-like line. Many straight lines.

Alec's brain is frozen in a moment. Stuck. He's looking at the soulmark but he's not processing the meaning.

It isn't a thing that happens, Alec thinks and his thoughts sound like his mother's voice.

He can't be soul-bound to a warlock. He's a completely different race…

And his mother was so angry about him having visited the underworld… she didn't push him to find his mate among the Nephilim… because she knew. She must know.

She's older, she's seen his mark since his birth and she must have wondered about Alec's loops and lines. She'd figured it out, either from books or someone else's knowledge.

And she didn't tell him.

Magnus is waiting, silent, with his arm still held up for Alec to see. Slowly, Alec reaches out to touch his skin. With one hand he holds Magnus's forearm and with the other, he traces the patterns. Touching them won't give him any arcane knowledge but he wants to be closer to it. It's the counterpart of his mark, so in a way this is his, too. On Magnus's warm skin. Goosebumps raise on it in the wake of Alec's fingertips.

The warlock is still silent and it dawns on Alec he probably should reciprocate. He lets go of Magnus and takes off his own cover, the black band he wears over his mark.

And then, a smile slowly brightens the warlock's face. He's gazing down at Alec's mark like it's something precious in itself. Like he's seeing… like he's seeing something he's lost and found again.

Alec doesn't know why that came to his mind. He doesn't know what Magnus is actually feeling…

"Are you disappointed?" Magnus asks.

"What?"

"Are you disappointed it's me?"

"No. No." Alec shakes his head for good measure. "It's unexpected. It doesn't matter to me."

Magnus doesn't appear convinced.

"It matters to your kind. Your leaders."

"Yes."

"I don't want you to lose something over this. Your position or respect."

Alec takes a breath, considering his answer. Somehow, in this empty, gray room of the orphanage with only Magnus there, Alec's thoughts clear and he finds it's not that difficult to speak his mind.

"I wasn't looking for my soulmate. Izzy's looking but I didn't care to do it. I thought if it was meant to be, we'd run into each other sooner or later. I had my work to focus on. It's important to me. I probably could have lived alone for years."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"I am. I was. My point is, I didn't care about my soulmate for as long as they were somewhere away from me. They were… just a thought."

"Do you care now?"

Magnus isn't meeting his gaze. He's looking down at the mark.

"I've met you, talked with you, touched you," Alec reaches out to take his hand again. "You're a real person, not a concept."

Alec hesitates before his next words. "You're my person."

Magnus laughs. A startled kind of laugh, one he maybe didn't even mean to let pass his lips.

"I'm your soulmate," he says out loud, like they're magical words to make this more real. "And you're mine."

"Do you mind?" Alec asks him.

Magnus shakes his head decisively.

"I've waited so long, nothing could have possibly made me complain about my soulmate."

They don't make any plans. Alec will continue to visit with his sister and they will see what happens from there. Soulmates or not, they've seen each other all of two times. They need to learn about each other.

Alec doesn't tell his sister that day. He will, but for now this is for him to think about on his own, not announce it to the world.

* *

Meeting with Magnus regularly makes their new powers stick. It's no longer a day-long effect like Magnus had described but an almost permanent one.

When Alec goes on patrols, he always goes with Jace and Jace's soulmate. If – when – they notice his abilities changed, they will keep it a secret for him. He goes with Isabelle, too, but she's been spending even more hours in the lab lately. She's allowed because at the same time she's continuing her work on purely Nephilim research. (Besides that, Alec knows their mother thinks this is keeping Isabelle from running around, crossing the worlds.)

Magnus works long hours using his improved magic to heal while Isabelle at his side tries to find a chemical solution to a demonic sickness, and the other warlocks try out new potions.

Alec can't help them directly but he spends more time working in the Institute, with one goal in mind. The stakes have changed for him. He has to become the New York leader if he wants to change how they're treating the Downworld there. He's not dreaming yet of influencing the Nephilim in other parts of the world but he's always been good at working steadily, point by point until the task is complete.

He has to be the leader so that no one can try to order him to give up his warlock.

Maryse tries to do just that. She finds out (he knew she would) the truth about Alec's trips to the Downworld. Surely not from Isabelle but ultimately Alec doesn't care how she found out.

She's angry. Oh, she's so angry about his unusual soulmark.

"I've done everything to keep you safe from this," she's saying, pacing the floor of the office. "I raised you to be an excellent Shadowhunter and the future Head. I haven't even asked you to find a suitable partner to live with and to be your support, I let you be. But you still did this?"

Alec doesn't particularly want to argue with her. He doesn't want to have to defend what should be a clear thing. He has a soulmate and it's his right to be with them. His position on this matter is clear and unnegotiable. But his parents aren't soulmates. They'd married because they chose to and although Maryse appreciates the importance of the powers soulmates give each other, she wouldn't understand standing face-to-face with a destined person.

"Isabelle I get," Maryse goes on. "She's always gone her own way, no matter how badly that reflected on us as a family. She's made the Downworlders her little project, that's fine. We let that go. But you, Alec, must be blind not to see how what you're doing is wrong."

"What am I doing, mom? I'm only getting to know my soulmate. I'm helping him help his people and I also make sure my work here doesn't suffer from it."

"You're giving him power. He's a warlock. With your soulbond, you're making him twice as powerful."

"He's doing the same for me."

Disappointed, she shakes her head.

"Most Nephilim find their mates, Alec. Whether or not you do, doesn't matter that much for our strength as a group. It's not the same."

Alec shouldn't be surprised, but he is. It hurts.

"Why are you saying things like this? If he didn't have me for a mate, he would have had someone else-"

She interrupts him.

"No, Alec, he probably wouldn't. Warlocks rarely find mates. Downworlders can have mundane mates, did you know that? How likely do you think it is for a warlock to find theirs in all the years they live? And if they do, how long do you think they keep them? You accepting the bond is not a usual thing. You are giving him – them – the advantage."

"To do what?" He asks, incredulous. "Attack us? What nonsense are you trying to convince me of right now? We've never been at war with them. There's no reason for us to avoid each other except for our pride."

"Dignity, Alec. We are meant to be separated if we want to hold up our mission. They are demon-blooded and are prone to corruption."

He nearly rolls his eyes.

"So are mundanes. They're corrupted even without demon blood. Downworlders could help us. Because of the demon blood, warlocks are able to fight demons and track their origin as well."

"That has always been the case," she replies. "And you did know that. You're bringing this up now only because you met a man you're interested in."

Alec looks down.

"You're right. I wouldn't have cared before. I had to see them for myself to change that. I chose to change that. We're supposed to learn, to be better, not stagnate. There is nothing you can say that will make me give my soulmate up. He isn't a threat and the others aren't either."

"Fine. We'll see soon enough."

"We will."

The same evening, Alec flies straight to Magnus. He knows where Magnus's home is by now because he has been invited there and instead of crossing the worlds in the market and walking from there, Alec takes flight. The Downworlders' eyes follow him curiously but since they know they have two regular Angel children visitors, they don't think twice about it.

Alec knocks with a little more strength than necessary and Magnus comes to the door quickly, thinking someone might be needing his help.

He's surprised but very pleased to see Alec's face.

Then, he notices something isn't quite right. He can read it in Alec's eyes and the way he's almost buzzing with emotions.

"Come in, Alexander."

Inside, he takes Alec to his living room and tells him to sit. Alec sits on the sofa and Magnus lowers himself to a crouch in front of him.

"What's wrong? Something happened?"

Alec sighs.

"I fought with my mother."

Magnus understands.

"Over me?"

"Yes. Apparently now that you have powers from our soulbond, you're going to become our nemesis and destroy the world."

Magnus smiles, amused. If Alec can joke about this, Magnus will let himself be a little less concerned for him, even though surely conflict with his own mother is a serious thing.

"Oh. Of course. That's right, I forgot to tell you about my plans. I'll be very busy this week."

At that, Alec smiles, too.

They look at each other, both seeing the fondness in their soulmate's eyes.

"May I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course, little bird."

"With you, I mean. In the same bed?"

"Yes. You don't need to ask twice. But first, would you like a late dinner?"

"I- yes. I might have forgotten to eat today."

Magnus nods. "I thought so."

He stands up and Alec stays on the sofa because he can watch Magnus from there.

The house is as modest as other Downworld buildings but Magnus puts his colors on himself instead. His clothes and hair, and sometimes eye-makeup when he doesn't have just the kohl.

Alec knows by now that warlocks can only create some things with magic. The rest are summoned from elsewhere. Most of the time from the rich mundane world because they wouldn't steal from the already lacking underworld.

Tonight, the dinner is being summoned. Magnus can cook but he doesn't want to waste time doing it and he doesn't want to make the Nephilim wait when he hasn't eaten.

When they sit down to eat together, Alec mentions Isabelle. She thinks she's close to a breakthrough with the cure.

Magnus nods. "She has sent me a message. I hope it will work. You know we're grateful for the help even if it takes longer to make a cure. You've done a lot for us."

"I haven't done anything."

Magnus gives him a pointed look.

"You're with me. You're making it possible for me to heal more people, sickness and injuries. Thanks to that, Cat can spend more time in the apothecary and tending to other needs in the orphanage. Not to mention you've been spending time with the children."

Alec stares at his plate. "It's nothing," he mutters but he's silently pleased with the warm tone Magnus is speaking to him in.

They finish the meal and move to the bedroom. Magnus stops at the door, puts his hands on his hips and considers his bed.

"That's not made to fit a Nephilim. I never thought I'd be dating one."

He sends magic out to fix that little issue. In a blue mist, the bed widens and with it so do the bedsheets and the comforter. Then, Magnus adds more pillows even though he already had a whole herd of them there.

"That's better. Come on, darling, you actually look like you'll be out the moment you lie down."

He isn't wrong. Seeing the bed, Alec is suddenly overcome with tiredness.

They strip to their underwear and then lie down, looking for the best position for both of them and the wings.

Magnus is thrilled to have them there. Those thick, fluffy wings which he knows are as soft as they appear because he's touched them during Alexander's previous visits. They must make a bed warmer at night, too.

Despite everything, Alec doesn't pass out the moment his head hits the pillow. He's awake and keeping his eyes open, and Magnus wonders if he wants to talk some more.

He does.

"I'm already exhausted thinking about the future… but I can't give up. Especially not just because of my mother."

"It's always hard to be the one to go against the flow. But you're not alone. Your sister started it. You mentioned your adopted brother. Surely he can be asked to back you up."

"Yeah. He would. He will. But we're just… Some older members of the council still see us as kids."

"But you aren't. You don't talk and act like a child, Alexander. They will see that."

Magnus reaches over to the part of the right wing he can touch. He runs his fingers down the feathers, just like Alexander likes.

"We don't have to solve this tonight. We don't even have to solve it this year."

Alec sighs, content where he is, with his mate touching him, even though his mind is troubled.

"I have lived for a long time and underworld has existed for a long time. We can wait for you to succeed, my little bird."

Alec closes his eyes, let's himself just feel Magnus's fingers smoothing down the feathers ruffled from the wind in his earlier flight. Sleep is just behind the corner, already fogging his mind. Tomorrow, he'll wake in a better mood, ready to work again.

#chefhector #malecsanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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belphegor1982 · 5 years ago

Text

Twelve years. Twelve years between chapters. But we got there. I can hardly believe it. Anyway, here’s the elusive chapter 17. Hope you enjoy!

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16)

Chapter 17: Fight or Flight (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

Evelyn had rarely been so angry at her son. Alex did have a mischievous streak – often encouraged, to his mother’s dismay, by a father who tended to turn a blind eye to what he judged to be mild shenanigans and an uncle who sometimes still seemed half a child himself – but he hardly ever did anything that warranted more than a stern talking-to.

This time, Evelyn’s anger was proportional to her sudden fear for her child, which took priority over everything else. Alex visibly struggled to explain his actions, in vain.

“But Mum, I’ve been in the pyramid too! I know which way to go, I can help Dad and Uncle Jon while you find the bad guy and stop him!”

“You will do no such thing! This isn’t one of your adventure books, Alex – we know next to nothing about the men inside the pyramid, however I don’t think they’re going to draw the line at harming you. Not to mention the Army of Anubis. They’re set to destroy everyone and everything in their path, including children.”

Evelyn didn’t shout. She was too furious for that. Besides, she usually didn’t need to, and considering the way Izzy was slinking away, looking supremely uncomfortable, this was one of those times.

Unfortunately, Alex had inherited both his parents’ brands of stubbornness, and knew how to dig in his heels when he felt it necessary.

“I know that, Mum. But Lock-Nah and the others didn’t really cut me any slack for being a kid. If it hadn’t been for Dad, he would have killed me in that jungle, and I think he would have really liked it.”

Through her anger, Evelyn felt a stab of retroactive terror and fury at the men who had come so close to depriving her of her only child. Then she forced her mind back to the present and grabbed Alex by the shoulders, resisting the urge to hold him as tightly as she could.

“That’s just it, Alex. You don’t have to place yourself in danger now. You can stay at the camp, with the other children, and,” she added pointedly as Alex opened his mouth to protest, “I can go into that pyramid knowing that you’re safer than if you’d come with me. Have you any idea how worried I’d be for you if you went with me? Or what your father would say if something happened to you while you were down there?”

The argument was a bit of a low blow, but Evelyn was past pulling any punches, as Rick said. Of course Alex could be mature beyond his years. Of course he had endured things no ten-year-old should with remarkable fortitude. Of course – and this broke her heart – he was not unfamiliar with the worst human beings could inflict on fellow men, and even children. But this time he could stay behind, and, if she had anything to say about it, would stay behind.

Izzy’s hesitant voice was loud in the sudden silence.

“Actually. Um. I don’t think we can. Go back to camp, I mean.”

Evelyn’s eyes swivelled from Alex to him, and he pointed at something in the distance.

“Well, we could, but if that means what I think it means, we need to land and get into that pyramid right now.”

Mother and son ran to bend over the rail, disagreement temporarily forgotten.

From ground level came a dot of light that made Evelyn’s eyes water when they met it. After squinting a little in the near darkness, she saw tents lit up by campfires. In the middle, a figure knelt on the ground next to a fire, holding a mirror towards the dirigible.

The signal. Maher and his men had overpowered Hamilton’s men, commando-style, and were telling her it was time to land.

Evelyn closed her eyes and took a shaking breath. They really didn’t have time to go back.

“Alex,” she said, her voice very, very low, “when we get home, you and I are going to have Words.”

Alex swallowed and wisely kept his mouth shut. Visibly his mother’s tone had successfully impressed upon him just How Serious the situation was. Good.

Hamilton’s camp should probably have been bustling, but it was eerily still and silent when Izzy landed Dee next to the dug up top of the Pyramid of Ahm Shere. The men, she found, were huddling together, sitting down in the sand, throwing nervous glances at their captors. Maher’s team was small, but effective.

While Izzy dragged the ramp out of the bowels of the dirigible, Evelyn turned to Alex and knelt down to his eyeline.

“Alex, please promise me you’ll stay here. Please, swear on my life, on your father’s, that you’re going to stay on the dirigible and not wander off.”

Alex still looked conflicted, but eventually nodded solemnly.

“I swear, Mum. I won’t set a foot outside of Dee until you’ve brought back Dad and Uncle Jon.”

His voice rang with absolute certainty, as though Rick and Jonathan were merely busy elsewhere, to be called back to the house for dinner. Not for the first time, her son’s unshakeable faith in her was humbling, and not a little daunting considering what lay ahead. Evelyn wrapped him in her arms and held him close, laying her head against his, her nose in his fine hair. She was almost surprised when Alex hugged her back fiercely, silently, his small hands gripping the back of her blouse so tightly the fabric strained.

She was not surprised, however, when she heard a snuffle and a muffled, “Promise me you won’t die again, Mum.”

Evelyn ran a hand through Alex’s hair; she pulled away to lay a kiss on his crown and rested her forehead against his for a few seconds, until he could give a wobbly smile and pretend he hadn’t noticed she hadn’t promised anything.

As she followed Izzy down the ramp, she looked back only once. Her little boy stood at the rail, firelight behind him, his eyes very bright.

Maher, a tall, willowy man who rarely talked, gave her a gentle smile when he saw her before he went back to watching the prisoners. His lieutenant, Atifa, met her in the centre of the camp, at the foot of the pyramid – or rather, the dozen feet that had been unearthed. She was a tall, broad-shouldered woman, a little older than Evelyn who had met her a few years ago on one of her visits to Ardeth and his family.

“Are you sure you don’t want anyone else coming with you?” she asked Evelyn in a low voice.

Evelyn shook her head. “Thank you, but no. You’re needed here; I’m needed down there.” She pursed her lips and breathed deeply through her nose. Her mission – taking down Hamilton by any means necessary – was clear, and she intended to see it through, but she couldn’t help but shudder, like she’d shuddered two years ago, standing nearly in the same spot. She had lost count of the men she’d had to kill in that jungle to protect her son, her husband, and her friend. This, almost more than the memory of the smell of gunpowder and almost throwing up once she’d lowered her rifle, kept her awake at night. And she let it. Killing people should never be easy, she reasoned. The dead, even nameless, had their way of weighing on the souls of the living, their murderers’ in particular.

Come to think of it, stripping Imhotep of his name in the hope of his never reaching the afterlife had been an exercise in futility. Engraving ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’ on his sarcophagus hadn’t taken away his sense of self any more than it had stopped her from bringing him back to life.

Atifa didn’t argue the point. She held out her hand, and instead of clasping Evelyn’s, laid it on her arm, just below the shoulder.

The warmth of this simple contact nearly undid her resolve before it strengthened it. Apart from Alex, Evelyn realised, she hadn’t felt the touch of another human being in five days. She allowed herself one second of fierce longing for Rick’s arms around her, or Jonathan’s hand in the crook of her elbow, before smiling at Atifa and returning the gesture.

“Be careful,” said Atifa in a low voice.

“You too,” said Evelyn firmly.

And she entered the pyramid, feeling rather than hearing Izzy’s presence at her back. Even the weapons he had brought didn’t make any sound as he walked.

Evelyn herself held a pistol in her right hand and a sword in her left. The part of her that was Nefertiri scoffed at the imbalance and pointed out that a khopesh in each hand would have been better.

If someone asked her one day how one went about being a reincarnated princess from Ancient Egypt and handling both sets of memories and reflexes, Evelyn would be hard pressed to answer. There were facts she knew that she never learned, movements that came to her instinctively in spite of herself… Nefertiri had died a young woman, but Evelyn had a decade on her, plus a child. It had taken her hours and hours of fighting practice before she could truly find a balance between the warrior and the archaeologist.

Right now, for instance, Nefertiri focused on being as stealthy and silent as possible, while Evelyn’s experience in entering tombs kept her eyes and ears open for anything unusual. Which, admittedly, amounted to everything in a pyramid that appeared to hold a veritable jungle in its entrails.

“Did you know about this?” muttered Izzy, startling her. “Was the place already like that when I picked you up last time?”

“No,” she whispered. “Absolutely not. The oasis must have got sucked into the pyramid when the Scorpion King died.”

A shudder ran through her body. If the Oasis of Ahm Shere was now inside the pyramid… did that mean everything else was, as well?

The jungle around her was hardly silent. Some wildlife must have made it home again, from what she could hear, and somewhere a small stream was babbling merrily and dripping over a wall. Against all odds, there was even a slight breeze on her face. So far, there was no sign of the unearthly silence that had preceded the arrival of the pygmy mummies.

“Right, right. The Scorpion King. Was that the one your boy’s gold bracelet led to, the one who was supposed to rise from the dead and destroy the world?”

Evelyn turned sharply towards Izzy.

“It was, actually, outlandish as it may sound. That bracelet almost killed my son, and the Scorpion King almost killed my husband.”

And a three thousand years old resurrected concubine killed me.

Izzy held out one hand.

“Look, couple of years ago I would’ve said this was nuts, but then a wall of water with a face on it tried to drown us and then the desert bloody ate an oasis and an entire pyramid. I’m willing to go on faith. Just… Lemme adjust a little bit.”

“I know the feeling. But you’re going to have to adjust quickly. We—”

The floor shook, the walls trembled. She and Izzy reached for each other at the same time for balance, and she felt his hand grip her wrist and send a shudder through her arm.

“Wha—”

The world went black, and for a second Evelyn felt a wild, irrational fear that she’d just been killed again. The sensation was nothing like she’d ever felt before. The shadow drove itself into the heart of her, like cold fire or burning ice, leaving her with a gaping void. Suddenly she was grateful to feel the grip of Izzy’s hand. It was the only sensation that registered at all.

The shadow left as quickly as it had come. In its wake was a faint, greenish light, as though the braziers and torches she remembered were there had been lit again, somewhere beyond the foliage.

“What was that!?” gasped Izzy, letting go of her wrist.

Evelyn peered into the half-lit passageway to the trail they were following, then back to the way they had come from, her heart pounding in her chest fit to burst.

“I think… I think that was the Army of Anubis.”

Her next words turned to ash in her mouth.

“We’re too late.”

.⅋.

Tomorrow often was a good day to die, Ardeth reflected. Today never was.

Tomorrow was convenient. It allowed room for steely composure and swagger, admiring stares on the part of the less lucky ones who would not be riding out to war, and maybe just a few seconds of feeling sorry for oneself.

Not so with “today”. Today was the moment death stared you in the face and you hoped, wished and prayed that it would look away, just for you, just for one minute. It was the moment when you tried so very hard, as your enemy stormed upon you, to maintain a little bit of dignity and not let your body betray you with violently shaking legs or a loosening bladder.

A good warrior looked on combat as being ‘today’, because he knew that the true face of war was the face of your comrade in arms and best friend staring at you from the ground with dead eyes, sand mixing with blood in your own wounds and staring at whatever was pouring out of your gut in nauseating terror.

For all his years as a chieftain and a commander of the Medjai, and his experience in battle, Ardeth knew he would never be quite used to war.

He fervently hoped so, anyway.

Spurring his horse to reach the front of the first line, he caught a grim glance from Aziz, chieftain of the Fifth Tribe – a tall, thin man, whose deep-set eyes looked more dour than ever.

His expression did not surprise Ardeth. Aziz was a strategist first, and a warrior second. Although nobody – not even him – had been able to come up with a completely satisfying solution, he had been one of the strongest voices against facing the Army of Anubis a second time with nothing more than a wild hope that things would somehow turn out all right in the pyramid.

But try as he might, he couldn’t think of a better strategy. Having known the Chieftain of the Fifth Tribe for years, Ardeth had a very clear idea of just how much this angered him. In all likelihood, Aziz was now close to seething, and the only thing that stopped him from speaking his mind to his Commander was the men and women standing around them, and, possibly, his own lack of a better plan of action.

But he waited, same as the others, careful not to let his mask of cool self-control slip. Ardeth knew that he felt just the same fraction of mind-boggling terror – voiced by the same instinct of self-preservation that whispered that right here and now was the last place to be.

Once more, though, he silenced it as he surveyed his people.

Most of them had already been there two years ago. He could see the weariness and horror in their eyes that came from knowing exactly what they would face. Some of the younger warriors, those who had never seen a Jackal of Anubis, were throwing worried glances here and there, breathing shallow and fast, but it did not come close to the terror of facing your nightmares for the second time in two years.

The wind changed. Ardeth’s breath caught in his throat.

The stars above were still visible, but their light was cold, as though dimmed. The air suddenly cooled.

In front of them, between them and the pyramid in the distance, dark sand began to move.

Ardeth’s hands tightened around the hilt of his scimitar.

They were coming.

.⅋.

“Kill them.”

“Wait – stop! What!?”

Damn, the guy was fast. In the half-second it had taken Rick to instinctively reach for the gun he knew wasn’t at his side, Ferguson had leaped in front of him and Jonathan, facing his colleagues with a wild-eyed fear in his eyes and his hands held placatingly in front of him.

To their credit, a few agents lowered their guns immediately.

“Robertson, Wyndham, Norton, come on – what does Baine think you are, cold-blooded murderers?” Ferguson’s voice was a little higher than usual, and the sudden edge in it seemed to shake several agents into taking their fingers off the triggers of their guns. “Our job is to protect important and ancient artefacts, not bloody kill people!”

“Thank you for that eloquent address, Ferguson,” said Baine coldly, as though this was just a hitch in the plan, “but I think we’ll do without interruptions now. Gentlemen, proceed.”

From the corner of his eye, Rick glanced at Jonathan, who seemed to be surreptitiously looking for a quick way out. Good. Here’s hoping he’s spotted the little passageway between the two trees and the statue.

Apparently Ferguson hadn’t played his last card.

“Stop – think! Why?”

A burly giant of an agent lowered his gun entirely and asked, frowning, “What d’you mean, ‘why’? It’s a direct order, innit?”

“A direct – oh, for God’s sake –” Ferguson threw up his hands. “What if he ordered you to shoot yourself in the head, you monumental idiot, would you do it?”

“Here, he’s got a point,” a younger agent piped up. “Do we really have to kill them? I mean, this isn’t what I signed up for in the first place.”

“Shut up and do the job at hand, McLean,” came the low, scratchy voice of a much older agent, whose gun was still trained steadily at Rick and Jonathan. “It’s not your place to ask.”

Rick took a minuscule step back. If he could just bump into one of them and help himself to a gun in the process, they might have a chance to get out of this mess alive. What they would do outside against the Army of Anubis was another matter entirely, but right now, the priority was getting the hell away from Baine.

Rick O’Connell always prided himself on his sense of priorities.

The man himself stood silent in the background as voices rose in argument, slowly but definitely reaching inside his jacket for his own gun. Rick took a short moment to appraise the look in Baine’s eyes. The guy was deadly serious.

Meanwhile, even as they clutched their guns, some of the other agents still exchanged uncertain glances at the idea of shooting two fellow human beings in cold blood. Maybe there was something to work with here.

In the blink of an eye, Rick grabbed Ferguson from behind, wrenched his revolver from his holster and shoved the muzzle between his shoulder blades.

The guy stiffened and let out a strangled sound. Rick tried not to wince and whispered, “Sorry, buddy. Just look scared.”

“Not bloody hard, is it!” Ferguson hissed through clenched teeth, as Jonathan inched closer, his face even whiter than it had been five minutes ago.

“Rick, what the hell are you doing?” he whispered angrily. Rick gave an imperceptible shrug.

“Making a gambit. You play poker, you oughta know that.” Then he stared at Baine, hard, trying to make him understand just how deadly serious he was, too.

“You make a move, I kill the guy,” he said as levelly as he could, his heart hammering in his chest. He had played poker before, occasionally with a bad hand, but this was easily the worst hand he’d ever had. “Your call.”

Okay, that got ‘em thinking. They would surely think twice about murdering a fellow agent, someone they’d known for some time, maybe some years. Talk as little as possible, keep your eyes on theirs, make a slow retreat…

“Is it, really, Mister O’Connell?” Baine actually grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “What makes you think I won’t just shoot him as well? Do you really believe, in that thick American head of yours, that I would let the life of one agent compromise the mission?”

Shit.

Baine raised his gun.

Rick fell back on pure survival instinct and decades-old training. The second before Baine’s finger squeezed the trigger, he dropped to the ground, pulling Ferguson with him. The jungle became a dark green blur as he leaped to his feet and bolted to the door, only risking the shortest glance behind him to check that Jonathan did the same, still keeping a tight hold on Ferguson’s collar with his left hand and on his gun in his right. Leaves, branches, and the occasional chip of stone exploded around them as agent after agent decided to follow the leader after all and shoot.

All things considered, it was a sheer miracle that the three of them were still intact when they finally stopped after what felt like hours of running straight in front of them. Rick made sure of that once he had recovered enough to review his troops.

Jonathan was leaning against the wall for support, ashen-faced and gasping – from retroactive fright, Rick guessed, as well as the actual run – but Ferguson looked worse. His face was an even more alarming shade than his old friend’s, his breaths coming in gasps, gulping and uneven.

The only sound that didn’t come in muffled by the layers of green around them was the same faint gurgle that they’d noticed as they entered the pyramid.

With a bit of luck, they could find the source and follow it upstream back to the entrance at the top.

“All – all right, there, Tom?” Rick heard Jonathan ask uncertainly. When he looked back, Ferguson’s glare was very bright in the half-gloom of the low, small corridor.

“Do I bloody look all right, Jon?” he panted, a bit of colour creeping back into his cheeks. “Those – what a bunch of stupid, mindless – I don’t even – God, I can’t believe that son of a bitch!” he finally exploded with on his face an expression even Rick couldn’t deny was a little bit scary. “When I get me ‘ands on him he’ll be bleedin’ sorry he was born!”

Nobody asked him who ‘he’ was – there was no need.

Thankfully, possibly because of the unsettling hush around them or the stifling damp heat, Ferguson’s fury boiled down to a steady simmer quickly enough, although his dark glower spoke volumes about the fate he reserved for Baine if he was still alive when they got out of there. Rick caught himself thinking it might be kinder for the guy to never see the light of day again.

As for the other agents…

“Orders, they said,” Ferguson muttered as they tiptoed their way up, watching every shadow like hawks. It was almost impossible to see the floor under all the greenery, so they tread very carefully. “Orders. Cretins. That lot wouldn’t recognise common sense if it danced naked in front of them and hit them on the head with a big bloody sign…”

He hadn’t even asked for his gun back. Maybe it was just as well, considering he was still shaking with anger. Rick kept it tucked into his belt, wishing for a lot more than one Browning Hi-Power with 15 rounds for the three of them. A machete would have come in handy, too; they kept getting scuffed and scratched by the ferns and leaves around them. Still, at least they did have a gun, and he could hardly look a gift horse in the mouth.

Too bad they didn’t have a convenient magical spear this time around…

After being surrounded by guards non-stop for days, the total absence of other humans and the relative silence made it tempting to relax a little bit. Rick knew better. He had more than enough experience with people and places trying to kill him to trust this traitorous boxed-in jungle.

Besides, concentrating on his surroundings was a lot more preferable to the alternative, namely what was undoubtedly happening outside the pyramid.

The Army of Anubis, unleashed a second time.

Rick caught himself wondering whether the Warriors actually remembered rising two years ago, fighting the Medjai, then disappearing back into the sands. The Medjai certainly remembered. Ardeth and his people must have followed the trail – which surely meant that they were outside right now, fighting their second worst nightmare again, dying, too, to defend humanity…

At least Ardeth was still alive. Of this he was sure. How, he had no idea, but the gut feeling was there. Funny, really; he had always felt a mixture of wariness and respect for the man, which had turned into a sense of kinship well before the Medjai had pointed out and explained the half-forgotten tattoo on his arm.

Whether Rick O’Connell really had been a Medjai in a former life or not was a moot point. They ‘got’ each other at a slightly different level than anyone else in their extended family. The first few years, Rick had chalked it up to their both being fighters, used to making the hard choices, with an ingrained sense of duty that had nothing to do with traditional military structures. Ardeth had his tribe and the task of guarding the deadly secrets of Egypt; Rick had his family, small as it was, and the deep-seated urge to shield it from harm.

When he had mentioned it to Evy, she hadn’t taken it lightly or laughed, as he might have feared; she had suggested pensively that perhaps the two men had known each other in a previous life.

Rick had smiled at the theory then. But since their adventure at Ahm Shere two years ago he wasn’t so sure.

Now was not the time for philosophical musings, though. Not with a supernatural army probably already decimating the Medjai and a madman down below channelling an Ancient Egyptian god…

“Wait,” Rick said in a low voice. The other two stopped and looked at him curiously. “We can’t just go. Hamilton’s down there commanding the Army of Anubis. We gotta take him down, now.”

Look who’s getting ‘involved’ now. He could almost hear Evy’s sharp voice in his head, telling him ‘I read the book, I woke him up, and I intend to stop him’ all those years ago. If it had been up to him, he would have grabbed her and hightailed it to another continent. Imhotep could be someone else’s problem. But Evelyn Carnahan was principled, opinionated, and in possession of an unerring sense of responsibility; because of that, a stubborn librarian, a reluctant adventurer, a foppish dilettante, and a determined guardian had saved the world.

Oh God, he thought, Evy. Please let Evy and Alex be okay and very, very far from here.

Aw, who was he kidding. If he knew his wife at all, she was at the heart of things right now, doing whatever she could to make things right. Rick amended his half-prayer. Please, honey, take care of yourself. I don’t think I could bear to lose you a second time.

“I’m all for that,” said Jonathan darkly, yanking Rick back to the present, “but how? He practically has his own bloody army.”

“He’s not in command.”

Rick and Jonathan both turned to Ferguson, who was frowning, lost in thought.

“What d’you mean?”

“Remember when I said I went to see the High Priest of Osiris before we left? He said no mortal can claim Anubis’ army.”

“We got that part,” said Rick as patiently as he could, which was not saying much.

“Hang – hang on. He also said that Hamilton’s… that his body and mind would just be a vessel. Without either, the connection would be broken.”

Kill the bad guy, save the world. Sometimes it really was just as simple as it was complicated. At least that tune was familiar.

“Right.” Rick checked the gun again, made sure the clip was full and that sand had not jammed the mechanism. “Let’s go break a connection, then.”

Retracing their steps proved easier than going forward, as they only had to follow the broken fronds and the crushed ferns. The jungle weaved an entire tapestry of sharp smells and small sounds around them: chittering, scurrying, chattering sounds that made all three men jumpy.

Rick walked in front, followed by Ferguson, Jonathan bringing up the rear. Ferguson looked like any city dweller who’d just been dropped into a completely new and hostile environment, while Rick’s apprehension came from experience. Jonathan, he noticed, was especially jittery, the fingers of his left hand twitching every now and then.

“I can’t believe we’re going back down there to a bunch of trigger-happy idiots and one tosspot with delusions of grandeur,” Rick heard him mutter. “I suppose we’ll just go ‘Oh, don’t mind us, just popping round to kill your boss, we won’t be a bother’, and they’ll say ‘By all means, old thing, shoot the daft bastard, we’ll just put the kettle on and pass the biscuits around, don’t mind the flesh-eating scarabs and the angry pygmy mummies’…”

The steady stream of nervous chatter should have driven Rick out of his mind. In other circumstances he would have told Jonathan to can it before he really got the ball rolling. But it was familiar, and thankfully not in the way the jungle rustled all around them, boxed in every direction by walls, ceilings, and a floor you couldn’t see. Besides, for all his bellyaching, Jonathan kept walking on.

The last mumbled sentences made Ferguson’s ears prick up.

“Flesh-eating scarabs? I thought those were only at Hamunaptra!”

“Figure of speech. Wouldn’t put it past the place, though.” Jonathan gave a full-body shudder. “Just what we’d need, more creepy little buggers trying to eat us alive…”

“O-kay,” said Rick, who didn’t like where the conversation was going, “let’s not get sidetracked here. Ahm Shere – pygmy mummies and jackal-headed soldiers from hell. Hamunaptra – flesh-eating scarabs and the Ten Plagues of Egypt. We got enough on our plate without mixing the two, dontcha think?”

Jonathan gave him a somewhat sheepish look that instantly reminded Rick of Alex when he could be bothered to actually act contrite, and Ferguson looked uncertain.

“Did you really get all ten plagues? I mean, that sounds awfully… Biblical.”

“You’d better believe it got Biblical,” Rick muttered. “Locusts, boils, blood everywhere, night at two in the afternoon… Our mummy buddy spared no expense.”

“Lucky we stopped him before the tenth, though.” Jonathan shifted uncomfortably. “‘About midnight I will go throughout Egypt. Every firstborn son in Egypt will die…’ I wasn’t especially keen on seeing whether that pertained to me or not.”

Ferguson’s eyes went round. “That’s right, your mum was Egyptian…” Then he shook his head. “Look at us. Trying to stop a madman from unleashing an army of jackal creatures, talkin’ about mummies and plagues…” He sighed. “I liked it better when me job was pushing paper and trackin’ ancient artefacts.”

Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to our world,” he said in the tone he used to make himself look more impressive. Rick suppressed a snicker.

“Twice in ten years, Jonathan. Just twice. It’s a lot, but I don’t think we—”

He felt it the second before he had finished putting his foot down. The roots and shrubs parted and the floor vanished – he was only able to press the left side of his right foot on a hard surface before slipping. His leg followed his foot, his entire right side followed his leg, and before he knew it, he was hurtling down a steep slope, his body rolling and tumbling against the stone. Fronds and enormous leaf blades slapped and scraped at him along the way; he only managed to slow down when he caught hold of some kind of root as thick as his wrist. In the sudden lull he heard Jonathan shout his name before the root gave out and he was falling again.

Rick only had time to curl into the tightest ball he could before his body hit the ground and shut down.

.⅋.

A battle won without bloodshed was an even sweeter victory, Atifa reflected, gazing at the Westerners sitting in a huddle in the middle of camp. A few of them had tried to resist, fight back, but they had been quickly overwhelmed by either force or the sight of their already captive comrades. In the end, they had lined up to drop their weapons into a pile and resigned themselves to being prisoners.

All the Medjai had to do now was wait, and pray.

Maher was staring at the top of the Pyramid of Ahm Shere when she walked up to him. As usual, he didn’t need to talk to voice his thoughts. The gaze he turned to her was very eloquent.

“I know,” said Atifa in a low voice. “Everybody felt it.”

Relief flashed in her chieftain’s eyes, quickly replaced by a grimly inquisitive expression.

“Yes, I remember.” How could she forget? They had both battled the Army of Anubis before. They had both faced its herald, the darkness that washed over hearts before being deposited on the sand and turning into a many jackal-headed nightmare. Knowing what followed made it even worse than the first time. Knowing their people and their commander would be fighting it again, and being unable to fight side by side… That was torture.

Atifa’s head turned to the desert as though of its own accord. Maher followed her gaze, then lightly touched her shoulder and shook his head.

Maher hardly, if ever, talked. He devised tactics, gave orders, shared the good times and the bad, almost always silently. This was unusual, and a few people sneered at the idea of serving under a man who was, barring a few exceptions, a mute, but he was the best chieftain Atifa could think of serving. What he lacked in words he made up for in observation skills. He was a fount of knowledge about subjects like tracking, covert operations, and, oddly enough, constellations.

And he demonstrated every day that a man could have a kind, unguarded heart and still be a fearsome warrior in his own right. People had tried to test his role as chieftain. People had failed.

Sometimes he read other people’s faces wrong; right now, though, Atifa only needed to look at him to know he had interpreted her reaction correctly.

“I know we can’t help them,” she sighed. “And I know our place is here, guarding the Pyramid and the prisoners. But –”

She was interrupted by a loud voice and turned to see Djedi, one of her men, running up to her.

“—Coming! They’re coming!”

Maher raised his hands. One he used to get the panicked young man to stop and breathe, the other to encourage him to explain.

“The Warriors of Anubis! Wazad saw a detachment breaking from the main army. They’re coming here!”

Absolute fear washed over Atifa. “How many?” she asked, doing her utmost to keep her voice steady.

“Wazad didn’t say!”

Maher’s hand came to rest on Djedi’s shoulder. With his left, he indicated his eyes, and pointed to the direction Djedi had run from.

“Go,” he said, his voice low. “Count. Come back.”

Djedi swallowed hard, nodded, and ran off.

Maher’s face was stone. He strode to the nearest campfire and picked up a flaming stick, then drew a small circle with it. The aftereffects lingered for a second, giving Atifa the impression of a circle of light around the fire.

“We can’t run, can we.”

Maher shook his head.

“Then we make our stand here.”

A grim nod from her chieftain. The panic abated slightly, enough for sombre resolution to settle. Atifa took a long, deep breath, trying not to think that this might be one of her last, and turned to the men and women guarding the Westerners.

“Farid, Intef, Janan! Leave the prisoners. The Warriors are coming. Take two men each and build a barrier of fire around the camp. We’ll end up fighting inside it and probably outside, so make it big enough. Dismantle the tents if you have to, use everything that burns. Quickly, we don’t have much time.”

The camp came alive with focused despair as men and women left their posts to grab torches and fuel for the flaming barricade. From the corner of her eye, Atifa saw the Westerners mutter between each other with mounting animation.

As she struck down a nearby tent, relieved to see that the structure was made out of wood, she heard a voice call in atrocious Arabic, “Excuse me?”

She turned to the group. A dark-haired man was on his feet, his face pale in the firelight.

“Yes?” she said in English. The man appeared relieved, and continued in his own tongue.

“I thought I heard the word ‘warriors’. That didn’t mean the other, er… your compatriots, did it?”

The last word was unfamiliar, but the question was obvious.

“Your leader released the Army of Anubis. Last time it only spread out from the Oasis of Ahm Shere, but now the jackal warriors are coming here to kill us all.”

The Westerner paled even further. “We, er… How can we help?”

Atifa pinned him with her most withering stare.

“‘Help’?”

“Well, we all agreed that Hamilton’s a madman and that he did something really, monumentally stupid.” A couple of angry mutters rose from the back of the group. The man glared in their general direction, then turned back to her. “Most of us agreed, anyway. If we’re going to die, might as well die standing.”

Atifa took two seconds to think. Then she went to Maher and explained the situation in a few short words. Maher nodded curtly, and went back to the barricade to help and wait for Djedi’s news.

The Westerners’ firearms would be useless. They would only barely have enough blades for everyone. Some would probably find themselves armed with only torches.

This was madness. But they needed the numbers.

Atifa went back to the group to find all of them on their feet, some shivering, some resolute, the rest a mix of the two.

“What’s your name?” she asked the self-appointed spokesman.

“O—Owens. Mark Owens.”

“Mark Owens, my name is Atifa, daughter of Amenia, and I will allow you and your men to fight by our side. If anyone tries to betray us, he will be dead before his hand falls.”

Owens gulped, but stood a little taller. “You’re not the enemy. They are.”

“As long as it is clear to everyone. And remember – when this is over, you are still our prisoners.”

“Better a prisoner than a bloody corpse,” said another man behind Owens. Everybody nodded in agreement.

When Djedi and Wazad came running back from their look-out post with the certitude that they were about to be set upon by about two hundred jackal-headed abominations, the combined forces of the Medjai and Hamilton’s men amounted to eighty people. Eighty human beings huddled behind a bulwark of fire, too low, too flimsy to really protect them. Eighty humans who had been fighting each other just hours ago, and stood now shoulder to shoulder, not ready to face the horrors in the dark but standing anyway.

They could hear roaring now. Atifa’s palms were sweaty around the grip of her sword.

In front of them, under the starlight, darkness advanced relentlessly.

.⅋.

“RICK! You’d better not be dead, so help me God I’ll – Rick! For God’s sake, can you hear me?”

Jonathan knew he was yelling, knew he should not be yelling, and was well past caring. Miles and miles, in fact. Rick had disappeared down some kind of incline so steep it was almost a well, and he had no idea how deep the drop was or how hard the landing had been. This, to him, more than justified screaming his throat raw, prudence be damned.

That bloody pyramid had already been the death of his sister; they had only got her back on a fluke. There was, simply put, no way in hell it would claim his brother-in-law.

Tom dropped to a crouch beside him, his face pale, and laid a hand on his shoulder that Jonathan barely felt.

“Jon – Jon, please, be quiet, mate – Baine and his guys must be lookin’ for us, you’re gonna draw them ‘ere –”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” said Jonathan, still bent over the drop trying to catch sight of how far it went and where the bottom was. “They might have rope with them. Do you have rope? Here, let me see your bag.”

He was aware that he was babbling, that his hands were shaking as he ripped Tom’s rucksack from his shoulders to rummage through its contents, and that he couldn’t seem to get his voice down to a normal pitch. It just didn’t seem very important right now.

Rick couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t be. He needed to save the world, he needed to go back to Evy and Alex once the dust settled, to butt heads with his irresponsible reprobate of a brother-in-law, to be tired and battered and still make low-key jokes about mummies and big bugs and the end of the world…

Tom grabbed Jonathan’s arm and snapped “Jon, shut up and listen”, making Jonathan realise two things at the same time. One, he’d actually been muttering his train of thought under his breath instead of keeping it safely in his head. And two, in the sudden silence and stillness a small sound rose from the bottom of the precipice.

“Ow.”

The panic rushed out of Jonathan in a flash, leaving him light-headed and shivering. He fell back on his arse in a graceless heap of limbs, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Rick?”

“…Yeah?”

“Are you all right?”

“Kinda.”

“Please elaborate?”

There was a silence, then a distant rustle.

“Feels like I got dragged behind a car for a mile or two. I’m okay, though, considering. No broken bones or anything.”

“Can you stand?”

“Hell, I can even walk. Ow.”

Rick’s voice seemed to come from far away, but it sounded fairly strong and no less articulated than usual. When Jonathan opened his eyes again and crept towards the drop, he could make out a light-coloured blur between the criss-crossing vines and lianas. The wall Rick had fallen along to wasn’t quite vertical, but it was sheer enough to make climbing back up next to impossible, especially without a rope.

“Think we could climb down?” asked Tom, sounding doubtful. Rick’s answer was sharp and immediate.

“Don’t even try. Those vines can’t hold worth a damn. You’d break your neck.”

“Well,” Jonathan pointed out in his most reasonable voice, which had nothing on Evy’s but still worked occasionally, “we’ll just have to find a way down, then, won’t we?”

“No you won’t. I’m coming up. I can see stairs over there.”

“I don’t, so I highly doubt yours lead up to here.”

“They gotta lead somewhere. This place looks kinda familiar, I think I know where to go.”

“Hopefully not into another death trap, old boy. Do you have any idea what Evy would say if I made it out of that bloody pyramid and you didn’t?”

“Jonathan. Just…” Silence. Jonathan wondered if Rick had noticed the way his voice had pitched up near the end of the sentence. With his luck, he probably had. Hence the tone – a mixture of ‘shut up’ and ‘calm down’. “You do remember I still have the gun, right?”

“…Yes?” Jonathan said uncertainly. “And?”

“So you two are gonna hunker down where it’s safe and not attract the attention of the other guys with guns till I can come up and even the odds a little.”

“That’s your plan, is it?”

“Yup.”

Jonathan was torn. On one hand, the idea of staying put in relative safety had a lot of appeal. On the other, it meant keeping the group separated, and he knew from experience that it could lead to all sorts of bad things.

“Your plan,” he declared, mostly for the sake of argument, “is terrible.”

“Maybe. But that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Well, nothing for it I suppose.

“Watch your footing while you’re down there?”

After eleven years, Jonathan didn’t even need to see Rick to know when he was being glared at.

“Just stay out of trouble,” Rick said, and then the light blur disappeared and silence descended once more.

After a while, he heard a shuffle behind him. Tom held his rucksack in one hand, picking up his things with the other.

“You made a right mess of my bag,” he said quietly, a small smile in his voice. Jonathan ran a hand over his face and shuffled closer, picking up a notebook.

“Yes, sorry about that. I – well. I was in a bit of a hurry.”

Tom shot him a wry look, but didn’t comment.

In his frantic search for rope, Jonathan hadn’t really looked at the contents of the bag properly. What he found lying around and handed back to Tom to put away ended up being a pencil bag, a toolkit, two clips of ammunition for the gun currently in Rick’s possession, a half-empty flask of water, a meagre first-aid kit, and two small notebooks.

“You know,” he said, “maybe it comes from having a brother-in-law who can’t travel anywhere without packing half an arsenal, but I think you’re falling a little short of the mark regarding weaponry.”

Tom made a face.

“I don’t know what you think me job is, Jon, but I’m not some kind of gunslinger. Don’t get me wrong, I can shoot, but that’s not what I signed up for.” He sighed. “Then again, what I signed up for wasn’t really what I signed up for, so…”

Jonathan paused, toolkit in hand.

“Well, what did you sign up for, then?”

“Protecting antiques,” Tom replied firmly. “Only, you know, not stealing them from museums. And pretending I’m an idiot as a cover.”

“Only pretending?”

“Oh, do shut up,” grumbled Tom as Jonathan grinned. “I fooled you, didn’t I?”

Jonathan felt his grin slip several notches. A lot had happened since that late afternoon in Giza when his friend had pointed a gun at him and stopped being ‘Tommy’. ‘Tommy’ was a warm memory of loud laughter, daring escapes, bright eyes over pints clinking in the comfortable darkness of a well-loved pub. Tom, on the other hand, was a fairly decent man chucked into a complex situation, who had a wife he loved dearly but lied to about his job, who had not wanted to bring harm to an old friend but had done so anyway.

Who had also put himself between Jonathan and a gun twice, and almost got killed for it.

A lot had happened, indeed, but the reminder was still anything but innocuous. It poked at certain areas that were still somewhat tender.

Tom’s look was apologetic this time.

“Bit too soon?”

“Bit too soon.” A thought occurred, and Jonathan allowed his smile to resurface, cheekily, if a little gingerly still. “You know you didn’t fool Evy for a second, though. She had the measure of you, right enough.”

“Smart woman.”

“You have no idea.”

Into the bag the toolkit went, and Tom picked up the rucksack. It still looked mostly empty despite everything that had gone into it.

The few steps between the edge of whatever it was Rick had fallen into and a safer spot near an archway were made in silence. Which was how they heard the footfall.

It wasn’t Rick. That much was obvious. Unless he had picked up an escort along the way.

Jonathan pushed Tom against a wall and flattened himself next to him. Maybe, if they didn’t breathe or think too loudly, the men walking along the wall wouldn’t cross the doorway. Maybe they wouldn’t see them. Maybe…

Jonathan and Tom looked at each other, drew their hands back in unison, and drove their fists into the first faces that came their way.

Two men fell to the floor, groaning, while a third sprang back, raising his hands frantically.

“Whoa, whoa, stop! We were looking for you!”

“Of course you were,” spat Tom, massaging his knuckles. Jonathan knew exactly how he felt. The shock of colliding with his opponent’s skull had made his entire forearm ring like a bell for half a minute. Surely boxing hadn’t hurt that much when he was a lad. “Baine’s orders were clear, weren’t they?”

“But we’re not acting on Baine’s orders,” muttered one of the men on the ground, rubbing his jaw. “He’s a thug. And Hamilton’s off his bloody nut.”

“Come to your senses, have you?” Jonathan quipped. “That couldn’t have happened earlier, before Hamilton’s little light show and especially before you tried to murder us and my brother-in-law?”

The man who was still standing mumbled something Jonathan didn’t catch, then asked, “Where is the American anyway?”

“He’ll be joining us shortly. What are you doing here, if you changed your minds about killing us?”

The tall, broad-shouldered man Tom had punched was the last to pick himself up from the floor. “Like Vaughn said, we were looking for you.”

“We, er,” said Vaughn meekly, “thought you might know a way out of this death trap.”

Tom’s eyes grew cynical. “Of course. Turn right, then straight up until the supernatural army from hell.”

“And that’s if you escape the pygmy mummies,” Jonathan added smugly, crossing his arms. “But considering the Army of Anubis is your boss’ fault, you might want to do something about that first.”

Two of the three men looked at each other uncertainly. The burly one scoffed. “Pygmy mummies. You must really think we’re some sort of—”

“I don’t have to think, old boy, I know you’re the worst sort of, well, sort. But I’m not pulling your leg.”

“He’s really not, Norton,” said Tom, shaking his head. “Norton, Vaughn, Wyndham,” he added, turning to Jonathan and pointing at each of them in turn. “Maybe not the biggest pillocks I’ve ever worked with after all, but they come close. Are you even armed?”

“Of course we are!” protested Wyndham, opening his bag and taking out a stick of dynamite. “Look, we have explosives, and guns, and –”

“What a splendid idea. How about you lend us a couple?”

Wyndham looked at Jonathan like he had sprouted a second head.

“Why would we want to give you weapons?”

“Because somebody’s going to have to do something about bloody Hamilton and Anubis’ bloody army,” Jonathan snapped, nerves already frayed and nearing the end of their tether. “And frankly, the fact that I’m going to have to be a part of it should tell you just how bollocksed the whole situation is!”

Either his little tirade hit its mark, or the three agents simply didn’t want to get punched again. Jonathan found himself in possession of a handgun similar to the one Rick had taken from Tom, while Tom checked the clip of his own borrowed gun. Norton appeared to be sulking.

Wyndham slunk up to Jonathan, dynamite stick still in hand. “Er… When you said ‘pygmy mummies’… You didn’t mean the chaps in the Congo, did you?”

“Absolutely not. I mean eldritch little creatures about knee-high with sharp teeth and knives who delight in disembowelling people. They make spiffy shrunken heads, too, I’ve seen them.”

“Jon, stop scarin’ the kids,” said Tom. He was a few feet away, investigating a pile of something that must have been stone before it got covered in gunk. “Especially Wyndham here. He’s a bit trigger-happy.”

“I am not!” protested Wyndham.

“Oh yeah? You were one of the first to shoot at me not an hour ago, you little –”

Jonathan shrugged. “He asked.”

Norton said nothing, but looked uncomfortable. Vaughn glanced at Jonathan uncertainly and went to sit not far from Tom with a thoughtful look on his face. The three agents seemed to have absolutely no idea what to do next. Tom appeared to have no such problem: he was digging into the half-solid muck, sleeves rolled up on his arms, trying to extract what looked to be a statuette of a scorpion and a big tablet out of the sludge.

There was a lull in the conversation, followed by somewhat awkward silence. Jonathan, who had no patience for awkward silences, was racking his mind for something to do to pass the time until Rick found them when he realised his heart was going a mile a minute. It was pounding against his ribcage, making him almost sick to his stomach, as though angry that his brain wasn’t catching up.

But what…

When it finally hit him, it hit him like a locomotive going on full speed ahead. The pyramid was silent. Deadly silent. The little sounds that came from unseen bugs and critters had stopped. And this could only mean one thing.

Jonathan’s mouth went dry.

“Tom?”

Tom looked up, puzzled and somewhat apprehensive.

“Yeah?”

A sense of déjà vu struck Jonathan, whose brain helpfully provided him with the memory of him and Tom a few days ago, seconds before the Medjai attack on the camp, saying the same two words, down to the inflections.

“They’re coming.”

A susurrus ran through the plants around them, a hissing whisper that seemed to carry small cackling laughter with it. Jonathan felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He clutched his gun and glanced wildly around.

The movement got the agents’ attention. Only then did they notice the sounds.

“Here,” said Norton, striding towards the next room, “what’s th—”

A spear whistled through the air and skewered his forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Jonathan screamed. So did Wyndham, half a second later. Vaughn and Tom scrambled up, spouting a mix of curses and inarticulate yelling.

“Fall back! Fall back!” Vaughn shouted. Wyndham ran up to him and Tom, wild-eyed, waving his ingot of dynamite like a torch.

“Where to!?” he wailed. The hissing seemed to come from all directions, bouncing from the walls, surrounding them, taunting them. It seemed to drill into Jonathan’s skull, driving out all coherent thought. He kept pointing his gun at the rustling ferns, searching desperately for something to shoot.

Behind him, Tom yelled, “Don’t, you bloody idiot –”

Jonathan whirled round to see Tom, still cradling his big tablet against him with his left arm, reach for Wyndham with the hand that also held his gun, while Vaughn’s jaw dropped open at the sight of the still-open lighter in Wyndham’s hand.

The tableau burned itself crystal-clear on Jonathan’s retinas just before the dynamite exploded.

It took a while for Jonathan to realise he hadn’t, in fact, lost consciousness. The silence had been replaced with a shrill, high-pitched sound, like some sort of alarm going off much too late. The ferns and leaves were no longer rustling. In fact, when he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to drive away the mist, the plants were all gone. In their place was a mountain of broken bricks and big chunks of what had been a wall of gold and stone.

The plants were gone… and so were the four people who had been in the chamber with him.

Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed a few times before his brain sparked into life again. When it did, he took a deep breath and shouted, “TOM!”

“Shush, don’t, I’m right here,” muttered a very welcome voice from the other side of the wall. “Are you all right? Are they gone?”

The emphasis on ‘they’ puzzled Jonathan for all of four seconds before the memories of a couple of minutes ago stampeded back through his brain with the subtlety of a herd of panicked camels. He scrambled up, swaying and seeing stars from the head rush, and clutched the gun he had picked up without even thinking.

Nothing.

The sounds he had come to associate with the in-pyramid jungle were back as though they never stopped. There was no sniggering, no hissing, no susurrus. Only the usual rustling and skittering that meant normal jungle activity. For a given value of ‘normal’, of course.

“Sounds like it,” he said uncertainly, putting the gun in his belt. “Do you hear anything from your side?”

“Only Wyndham’s teeth chattering. He had a bit of a scare.” Tom’s voice had the biting, icy quality it only got when he was badly rattled. “Which should be a lesson to him in the future – if he has a future, considering he’s so terminally stupid as to light a dynamite stick in confined spaces with other people close by!”

“I am not!” protested Wyndham, more weakly than the first time. In the background, Vaughn groaned.

“Bloody hell, Norton…”

The reminder was sobering. The image of the poor bastard with a spear through his head remained seared in Jonathan’s mind whether his eyes were open or closed. At least it had been instantaneous and presumably painless.

“I’m so sorry, Vaughn,” he heard Tom say quietly. Wyndham gave a faint whimper.

There was a silence, during which Jonathan – mostly for something to do with his hands – walked up to the cave-in and looked for rocks to move to take the wall down. Or at least make a big enough hole in it for a man to go through.

“Where do you think those creatures went?” asked Tom after a while. Jonathan kept inspecting the stones.

“As far away from us as possible, hopefully. What was that thing I saw you mucking about with?”

“I have no idea. I think it’s an incantation of sorts, probably for the Scorpion King? I can only make out a few hieroglyphs. It says… hang on… Followers of the Sunset King – no, wait, of the ruler of the West… something something on their side… It’s ‘ard to tell underneath that crust.”

The Scorpion King was dead, and so was Imhotep, yet Jonathan couldn’t help a shudder. “Would you mind not reading it aloud? Just in case. We really don’t need another supernatural menace after us.”

Behind the rock wall, Tom chuckled.

“You didn’t used to be superstitious.”

“I didn’t used to see cursed mummies come back to life every ten years.”

“Fair point.” A pause. “Jon? Can I ask—”

Jonathan never knew what Tom meant to ask him. He was interrupted by a hair-raising scream that sounded like Wyndham and an awful noise that didn’t sound like it could – or should – ever come from a human being but probably came from Vaughn.

From then on, it was pandemonium.

“Where are they…?”

“Tom, what’s—”

“DOWN!”

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—”

“Bloody hell –”

“Ferguson! They’re—”

“Oh f—Run!”

“TOM!” Jonathan clawed at the wall, no longer paying attention to which stones he should take down first, completely beside himself with panic and worry. The only thing on his mind was making his way through the cave-in to get to Tom. What else might make its way across didn’t even occur to him. He barely registered a rock falling on his instep.

And then, all of a sudden, there was nothing. The only sound he was aware of was his own blood hammering against his eardrums. Around him, the jungle kept breathing, chattering, living. Of Tom and the other two agents, there was no trace.

“Tom? Are you… Tom, bloody answer me, please.”

Jonathan hardly dared to breathe. His heart had jumped up into his throat, blocking all sound, making his voice come out strangled.

“Tom, I think it’s safe to come out now. They’re gone. …Tom?”

Why wouldn’t the bloody rocks come down already!

“Tom, for God’s sake!”

Only silence answered him.

“Tom? …Tommy?”

.⅋.

Notes:

1) I can hardly believe believe it took 178 pages and almost 111,000 words before this story passed the Bechdel Test, and barely at that. I’m glad it did, though :o)

2) The further this chapter got for eleven years was Ardeth’s part (which was supposed to open the chapter) and 1,200 words of Rick’s, Jonathan’s and Tom’s scene. Hopefully the transition between 26 years old writer Bel and 37 years old writer Bel is seamless. (The rewrites helped.)

3) I am sorry about that last scene and you are free to yell as much as you like as long as it’s inarticulate shouting and not actual insults.

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #fanfiction #my stuff #the mummy films #the mummy

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icanthelpbut-love-you · 6 years ago

Text

I am short of breath standing next to you

read on ao3

Alec’s eyes are already scanning as he steps through the portal, searching for a glimpse of his fiancé in the crowd of guests surrounding him – an amalgamation of every possible downworld denizen imaginable, mingling so-far harmoniously. Alec had been dubious that they could all play nicely together, but Magnus had assured him that the thrill of securing an invite to the wedding of the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the Head of the New York Institute – the event of the century he had called it, much to Alec’s chagrin – would be enough to keep everyone on their best behaviour. Apparently he was right. As usual.

Speaking of Magnus, it’s clear he hasn’t yet arrived. Not that Alec really expected him to have; he’s most likely still getting ready, putting the finishing touches to an outfit that will undoubtedly make Alec weak in the knees. Admittedly, he’s cutting it a little fine, but Alec can’t help being endeared by Magnus’ inability to resist a dramatic entrance and shakes his head even as hopeless adoration courses through him. It’s unbelievable how Magnus’ little habits, things that would utterly incense Alec coming from anyone else, only make him fall further in love.

That being said, they will be having words if Magnus shows up late to their wedding of all things, Alec’s fondness for his quirks be damned.

As the portal shuts behind him with a flourish of green sparks, Alec muses that it’s been quite a while since he has had to use a portal conjured by anyone other than Magnus (perks of being engaged to a warlock). And honestly, it was surprisingly unpleasant.

Without realising it, he’s grown used to the sensation of Magnus’ magic, an extension of the man himself, and the way it creeps through his veins in a pleasant buzz that never fails to make him shiver. Don’t get him wrong, the warlock who had offered to make the portal from the institute for him – one of the many, many friends of Magnus’ that Alec has been meeting one after another in rapid succession for the past few hours – had been plenty good-natured and the portal itself conjured expertly. But the familiar sound of the portal opening and the muscle memory of stepping through as he’s done countless time before was jarring when paired with completely foreign magic, which had felt disconcertingly like it was sizing him up, prodding at him inquisitively with a few static shocks of lime-green energy. Knowing how intensely protective some of Magnus’ friends are, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what it was doing.

Now he’s given up searching for his fiancé in the crowd, Alec allows himself to stop and take in the sight before him. The dense surrounding forest opens up into a circular glade, grass soft and vibrant green beneath his feet and branches reaching endlessly up until the canopy opens to reveal the clear pre-evening sky. It’s a place they’ve visited before, on one of their early dates and many times since. They’d happened on upon it completely by accident, Magnus evidently much more nervous than he’d seemed on the surface based on the way he’d portalled them into a forest in the middle of nowhere several kilometres from the town he’d been aiming for.

Magnus had recovered quickly though, declaring with great enthusiasm that the glade was simply perfect for stargazing. So that was what they’d done. Alec vividly remembers lying with his head pillowed on Magnus’ shoulder as Magnus pressed close to murmur the names of constellations in his ear. As much as he’d tried to concentrate, Alec couldn’t help but be transfixed by Magnus’ face as he’d pointed out each star, eyes awash with unbridled excitement and the glitter brushed across his cheekbones shimmering in the starlight, every bit as captivating as the shining galaxies and nebulae spilling across the inky sky.

Leaning up to steal soft kisses every time Magnus stopped speaking to so much as take a breath, Alec had successfully coaxed Magnus down to join him in his distraction until all thoughts of stargazing were abandoned in favour of making out lazily on the grass.

The glade holds a special place in Alec’s heart. Not just because of the memory of the hours they’d spent kissing and talking and revelling in each other’s presence, but because it was the first time Alec can remember feeling like he could just be, existing for once fully in the moment wrapped in Magnus’ arms and idly playing with his fingers as they looked up at the stars. It was the first time he’d felt the beginnings of something more, far too early to be love but maybe the beginning of it, the possibility of it, and the first time (but by no means the last) that Alec wondered breathlessly how this was something he was allowed to have, these moments imbued with magic he’d never believed could exist outside of myths and epics, let alone in his own life.

And, based on the way Magnus had lit up when Alec suggested the clearing as a potential wedding location, knowing exactly where Alec was talking about with no need for elaboration and agreeing immediately, Alec thinks that it might mean something similar to Magnus too.

He makes his way around the rows of chairs lined up across the glade, gradually filling as guests find seats in preparation for the formalities beginning, sitting scattered throughout the rows in haphazard clumps in the absence of an official seating plan. Far too much work when there’s so many complex relationships between guests – particularly the warlocks, who are liable to suddenly unearth decades-old grudges when the fancy strikes. Far easier to let everyone sort it out themselves and embrace the controlled chaos that brings.

Another thing notably lacking is any pathway down the middle of the chairs, he and Magnus having decided to forego either of them walking down the aisle. Entirely predictably, Alec had found himself uncomfortable with the idea of that much attention focused on him alone, and Magnus for his part had been unable to hide his glee upon pointing out that he’s had his turn already.

“Besides,” he’d said conspiratorially, “Given our track record I doubt I’d make it past halfway.”

Alec had only laughed. Between Magnus slyly delegating the more mundane parts of wedding planning, citing that Alec was after all far better suited to the task given his greater experience, and Izzy snarking that she hopes this time there’ll be no devastatingly attractive men bursting through the doors halfway through, Alec is resigned to the reality that he’ll never live down his ill-advised almost-marriage to Lydia.

So, reaching the front row of chairs, Alec lingers, waiting for Magnus so they can step up to the altar together. Altar is probably too rigid a term, although Alec doesn’t exactly have a better one in his limited wedding-related vocabulary; arbour maybe, but even that doesn’t really do it justice. He and Magnus had supposedly agreed on simple set-up for decor, but Alec has a sneaking suspicion that was mostly to placate him at the time.

This is definitely not simple. But Alec has to admit it’s absolutely stunning. The altar is the statement piece of the entire clearing, set a few feet in front of the trees that border it. Branches and vines wind their way up around the trellis as though it grew from the very ground itself – and with the number of warlocks and faeries in attendance, for all Alec knows it might have – twisting together in knots that weave upwards in a swooping arch before reaching back out to join the canopy. The dark earth tones of the branches and rich forest green leaves fanning out around them are offset by clusters of vibrant sunflowers. They spiral up the sides, just a few lower down, almost obscured by the foliage arranged carefully around them, and increase in number upwards until the they cover the curve of the arch in an explosion of warm saffron-yellow. Clusters of tiny orange flowers peek out between them, making the darker amber at the centre of the petals pop.

They perfectly match the golden embroidery swirling across Alec’s tie, the focal point of his otherwise understated blue suit, as well as the boutonniere firmly pinned to Alec’s lapel – a single small sunflower nestled between a few glossy, curling leaves. He’d been more than a little sceptical initially; sunflowers, from his limited understanding, are a little loud and a lot cliché. However, when he’d voiced his concerns, Magnus had simply taken out his phone and offered it wordlessly, having evidently preloaded a page in anticipation of Alec’s resistance. Upon reading the words written there describing the flower’s meaning – devotion, happiness, adoration, longevity – Alec’s protests had died in his throat. Magnus had smugly patted his cheek before reclaiming his phone and continuing their previous conversation without so much as a hesitation, and that had been that.

He watches now as Izzy fusses over the positioning of a few blooms that must have gradually worked their way loose, playfully scolding Jace for jostling another when he tries to help and threatening him with some incredibly creative uses of a seraph blade if he so much as looks at any of the other decorations. Maybe not so playful then. Alec might have to keep an eye on that.

To his credit, and contrary to popular opinion, Jace must have some level of self-preservation instinct after all because he raises his hand in surrender and steps over to join Alec. He looks almost tentative.

“Congrats man.”

Alec inclines his head in acknowledgement, smiling softly as Jace bumps their shoulders together. Somethings never change, including Jace’s total lack of emotional coherence.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Jace continues and Alec looks up so fast he’s pretty sure he might have given himself whiplash, “I don’t say it enough but if anyone deserves some damn happiness it’s you.”

“A few months ago I was convinced I was never going to feel anything through our bond other than fear,” he says, serious in a way Alec rarely sees him, “It got to the point where I barely noticed it anymore because it was so constant, lurking just below the surface no matter what else was going on at the time, like you were barely holding it down by sheer force of will or something.”

Jace trails off, and Alec swears that he almost sounds choked up.

“I could see it was eating at you but I had no idea how to even try to help, and the worst part of it was that there were just these… moments where I could physically feel you collapsing in on yourself.”

He stops for a second, as though to compose himself, then seems to shake it off.

“And now you’re this beacon of ridiculous joy,” he laughs and shoves Alec good-naturedly, “Seriously, I got stuck on an overnight stake-out the other day and even then I couldn’t stop grinning the entire time because it was literally rolling off you. I could probably cruise through on your second-hand happiness alone for a few months at this point.”

Alec’s floored, completely speechless and unexpectedly touched as he listens to Jace use up what must be his emotional maturity quota for at least the next month. Whatever it is, it runs out then because Jace’s voice turns sly.

“You know, between our bond and some of your drunk ramblings I have all the material I need for a killer best man speech tonight.”

Alec doesn’t doubt that. In fact, between them Jace and Izzy probably have enough of Alec’s intoxicated text messages screenshotted to back up just about anything they decide to share. With that the moment’s well and truly dead, but the sincerity of Jace’s words still echo in the air so Alec pulls him into a one-armed hug before he hurts himself with any more over-compensatory macho posturing. As he said, some things never change.

It’s beyond amazing the difference it makes when everyone at your wedding is actually happy you’re getting married. Last time, the mood was so sombre anyone would have thought he’d invited them to a funeral. And honestly, if he’d gone through with it he might as well have. But now everyone is laughing and chatting, and part of him still can’t believe he can have this all with Magnus, a man who’s more than anything he could have come up with in his wildest of daydreams.

There’s the sharp whoosh and snap followed by the sound of footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor behind them and Jace nudges him, unnecessarily, like Alec can’t identify the sound of a portal and that familiar residue of magical energy in his sleep, like he hasn’t been finely attuned to every whisper of noise since he set foot into the clearing, and Alec turns and –

Oh. There he is.

Alec’s heart skips painfully and he has to stifle the urge to shift and tug at his collar, feeling abruptly like there’s something stealing the oxygen from around him before it can reach his lungs.

“I- I can’t breathe.”

He can hear the awe in his own voice, barely above a whisper, and he’s struck once more by how utterly different this is from last time. This time, Jace can snort and elbow him in the side and call him a sap, all light-hearted sarcasm and none of the poorly concealed worry. This time, he can let his gaze linger, eagerly drinking in the sight of his fiancé walking towards him. This time, he can feel the pure joy he’s come to associate with Magnus where it sits bright and steady and undeniable in the marrow of his bones.

Nothing’s the same, except the way Magnus takes his breath away.

He’s absolutely stunning. Sure, Alec had anticipated that but… wow. Magnus is dressed in the same blue suit and white shirt that Alec himself is wearing, complete with an identical boutonniere. But Magnus’ jacket is embellished with intricate gold filigree, swirling across the labels and flowing down his torso and over his arms in a way that makes it all the more difficult as Alec attempts to draw breath. It’s the exact same patterning as on Alec’s own tie and it makes moisture prick behind his eyes as he swallows thickly.

He needs to have a serious talk with Izzy about meddling. And boundaries, for that matter. The one tradition Magnus had insisted on (in character in a way that Alec should not have found anywhere as endearing as he did) was that they not see each other’s outfits until tonight, so Izzy had gone shopping separately with each of them to make sure they were ‘coordinated’. Naively, Alec had assumed that meant she was there to make sure… actually he hadn’t really asked considering even the basics of suit shopping were already deeply overwhelming for all they eluded him, but maybe to make sure the colours didn’t clash too badly?

He should have realised she’d use the opportunity to scheme, especially when she’d so vehemently insisted on this specific design for his tie. Briefly, he wonders what it would be like to have siblings that aren’t overly invested in his love life. But given Magnus’ reaction, eyes widening as he scans Alec, tears collecting in the corners and making them shine, he can’t bring himself to be even slightly annoyed at his sister’s deviousness. Not when the end result is this: a clear statement to everyone who sees them. Blue and gold, warlock and shadowhunter, beautifully and irreversibly intertwined. Two parts of a perfectly complementary pair.

They’re close enough that Alec can see the same shade from Magnus’ jacket picked out with careful precision in his makeup, a dusting of gold shimmering in the inner fold of his eyes. Everything about this man is perfect-stunning-incredible and automatically, Alec leans in to place a kiss on Magnus’ lips. Only Magnus shifts at the last minute, in a way that can’t be anything but deliberate. The kiss lands on his cheek and Alec pouts. Magnus tuts admonishingly.

“Kissing the groom before the wedding, Alexander? Surely you know that’s not allowed.”

Magnus almost manages to pull off a scandalised tone as he says it, but his eyes sparkle with mirth and there’s an infuriatingly coy smirk on his lips. Infuriating because it takes all Alec’s willpower not to kiss it off him and Magnus knows that. And there’s that ever-present electricity between them, the constant flirting and banter that has come so easily since the very beginning.

Giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Alec takes Magnus’ hand in his own instead, brushing his lips over Magnus’ knuckles. It’s the next closest thing he can get to actually kissing Magnus, to allowing the adoration bubbling up inside him an outlet. And if it makes Magnus’ cheeks darken with a slight flush, throat bobbing in a way that never fails to capture Alec’s attention and smirk fading as he looks like Alec has just shaken his entire world… well, Alec’s not above a little playful revenge.

With Magnus’ hand in his, Alec notices the distinct lack of rings. It makes him smile fondly, remembering the struggle it had been getting Magnus to relinquish the Lightwood ring long enough for them to actually use it in the ceremony. It had taken more than a little coaxing, whispers that after today he won’t ever have to take it off again, to convince him. And though Alec knows it’s mostly for show – teasing Alec is quite possibly Magnus’ favourite pastime – he could also see the hint of earnestness obscured by Magnus’ over the top whining. Magnus would never come out and say that he doesn’t want to give up the physical reminder that they’re getting married – even for a few hours – when it’s still all so surreal. He doesn’t have to say it. God knows Alec can barely believe it himself, had struggled to overcome his own reluctance to remove the ring Magnus gave him, keeps thinking that it must be an incredibly vivid dream conjured by his subconscious to taunt him because no way, his life can not be this perfect.

But apparently, it can. Because, though admittedly it has had a lot of practice, his subconscious could never so accurately reproduce the faint scent of sandalwood that lingers around Magnus or the exact feel of his hand clasped in Alec’s or the gentle familiar buzz of magic that sings just below his skin.

“By the angel – Alec!”

He starts at Izzy’s voice, exasperated and very clearly concealing laughter. Willing down a blush at the realisation he must have just been staring into Magnus’ eyes, completely oblivious to her saying his name, he manages to turn away long enough to look at her sheepishly. The sarcastic flourish when she waves expectantly towards the altar ignites a deeply-programmed childish urge to respond by flashing her a crude gesture (courtesy of growing up with Jace). But his hands still clasp Magnus’ and when he looks back at his fiancé, looks at the utter joy practically radiating off him, he completely loses that train of thought.

Feeling Magnus’ restlessness – and isn’t that a concept, to know Magnus well enough that he can see his emotions so plainly – Alec almost expects it when Magnus raises his free hand and flicks it absently, cobalt blue sparks shooting mesmerizingly from his fingertips, dancing and glowing in the space between them. Gradually they fade, but rather than dispersing Alec feels as though they’ve simply taken up residence somewhere in his chest instead, warming him to the core. And it’s so Magnus, the way he both sheds nervous energy and tries to cover up the nerves themselves with these little bursts of raw magic. God the sheer power that implies, that Magnus has so much magic roiling in his veins, so responsive to his emotions, that he has to burn off the excess at times like this, it… it does things to Alec that are less than ideal for a formal (and distinctly public) event.

He forces himself once more to draw his eyes away from Magnus before he becomes side-tracked yet again. Instead, he casts his gaze outwards, searching to see what this particular spark of magic has manifested as. It’s his turn to stare with wide eyes this time as he takes in the sight around them, jawing slackening in awe. Night has started to fall in the space between one breath and another while he’s been captivated by Magnus, the last rays filtering through the branches and setting the grove ablaze with golden light and soft shadows. The first stars glint above them. Briefly Alec thinks that somehow Magnus has brought those stars down to meet them, before he realises how ridiculous that is (although maybe not, given Magnus’ sheer strength and his penchant for outrageous romantic gestures). At least the audible gasps from the people around them mean he’s actually seeing this and isn’t so deliriously happy that he’s become starry-eyed.

Tiny points of light fill the canopy above them, weaving through the branches, wrapping whimsically around the altar and painting the sunflowers with a flickering glow that makes their petals dance like tongues of flame, and illuminating the defined angles of Magnus’ face. Alec’s not sure when his gaze wandered back to his fiancé. But now he’s powerless again, transfixed by the way the lights strike the gold of Magnus’ eyeshadow and catch the soft happiness gleaming in his eyes.

It’s one of the more productive results of Magnus’ errant magic, he has to admit.

Taking a steadying breath, Alec steps forward to stand on shaky legs under the trellis with Magnus by his side, hand still clasped tightly in his own. At some point Raphael and Catarina have moved to take their places behind Magnus, the former valiantly mustering his trademark bored expression when he sees Alec watching him, as though Alec hadn’t just caught him exchanging a proud look with Catarina. He senses more than sees Izzy and Jace at his own back, feels Izzy lean closer to him.

“At least I didn’t have to invite Magnus this time,” she whispers, voice dancing with mischief, and he glances sideways to fix her with a deadpan look.

“If you had to invite one of the grooms to the wedding, I think we’d have bigger problems on our hands,” he snarks back under his breath and hears Magnus huff a laugh. Trust Izzy not to miss an opportunity to poke fun, even as he’s seconds from getting married. He can feel himself relax a little though, some of the nervous tension draining at the familiarity of their banter, and is hit by sudden gratefulness towards her. Of course it’s deliberate – his sister knows his tendency to overthink better than just about anyone with the exception of Magnus – of course she notices that he’s overwhelmed before he realises it himself and immediately does her best to put him at ease.

Brother Zachariah steps forwards and the last of the chatter from the crowd seated in front of them dies down.

“We are gathered here to witness the union of Magnus Bane and Alexander Lightwood,” his voice projects into Alec’s head, “When they are ready, Alec and Magnus will exchange the vows they have chosen to prepare.”

There’s a ripple of interest through the rows of seats. Vows generally aren’t something that shadowhunters do at weddings; between the Wedded Union rune and exchanging tokens (often rings but not always), any gestures beyond that are considered excessive. But Alec is well beyond worrying about the Clave’s pompous dismissal of emotion. He’s getting married to the love of his life; at this point not even a demonic invasion would be enough to stop him from giving Magnus all the beautiful promises he deserves. Brother Zachariah inclines his head in invitation, and Alec grasps Magnus’ other hand to turn them so they’re facing each other, losing himself in Magnus’ eyes.

“Magnus,” he starts.

“Alexander,” Magnus responds, matching Alec’s sincere tone teasingly. Alec is momentarily thrown, before shaking his head and grinning helplessly as Magnus arches a brow, as if to ask what he’s waiting for. Composing himself, he tries again.

“Magnus I’m – I’m not a smooth talker, you know that. Not like you are. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always had this ability to… the way you can these paint vivid pictures and craft entire worlds from your words alone is practically an art form.”

“That’s not something I can do. Especially when I’m around you.”

He pauses to chuckle breathlessly, overtaken by nostalgia.

“When we first met I wasn’t… I could barely string together two words if you got too close. I like to think I’ve got a bit better since then –”

Jace’s incredulous scoff prompts soft exhales of laughter from the seated guests and yeah, that’s probably fair, but Alec would appreciate it if calling out his inability to function around his fiancé could wait until after he manages to stumble through his vows. He huffs and turns to level an unimpressed look at his parabatai (who is a picture of innocence) before turning back towards Magnus.

“What I’m trying to say is I’m not great with words, but I’m going to try now because there’s some things I need to say that it’s really important to me that you hear, because it’s vital you understand how much you mean to me.” The words tumble out in a rush, and he can’t quite bring himself to meet Magnus’ intense gaze, knows there’s no way he’ll get a single sentence out if he does.

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with shadowhunter mythology, but there’s this old proverb that shadowhunters have a single great love, that we love one person with unmatched intensity for our entire lives.”

From the way Magnus’ expression twists into one of mute astonishment, it is in fact not something he’s familiar with at all.

“I never believed it, honestly it… it wasn’t something I could afford to believe, so I convinced myself it was nothing but a…” he trails off and shrugs abortively, hands flexing around Magnus’ in an echo of the way they’d normally be gesticulating wildly as he searches for the right words, “… story? A baseless wives-tale, I guess, something I could easily dismiss.”

“Then I met you,” he can’t help the wide smile spreading across his face nor the blatant awe he can hear colouring his tone, “That was nothing short of a miracle.”

“You’ve changed my life in every possible way, you challenged me to take control of my life, took my greatest fears and transformed them into something I treasure above anything else. I’ve never felt more at peace than I do falling asleep next to you every night – even if you are an unapologetic blanket hog.”

He pauses, both for effect and to let Magnus finish spluttering at the unexpected teasing. Making sure Magnus is looking at him again, he gazes steadily into his fiancé’s eyes as he continues.

“You’re my one great love, Magnus. I can feel it written in my bones. And I will cherish you with every second that makes up my future and every atom that makes up my body.”

The words tear a soft gasp from Magnus.

He looks undone. His chest is rising and falling irregularly, each exhale catching slightly in his throat and making him shudder. His lips are parted as he looks at Alec with unbridled wonder, before he shakes himself and seems to remember that it’s his turn to speak now.

“For someone who’s not supposed to be good with words that was one hell of a speech, Alexander,” he declares a little shakily, chuckling wetly. He’s clearly trying to be subtle as he blinks away the moisture threatening to spill over onto his cheeks, but he still has to take a second to compose himself before he can say anything else.

“When you’re as old as I am, new experiences are something of a rarity.”

It’s something they’ve talked about before, the worrying tendency of warlocks to stagnate as the years drag by, to get set firm in their ways and refuse to stray away from the familiar. How Magnus has spent decades as a connoisseur of exciting new experiences, desperately trying to outrun the clock and still finding himself becoming gradually jaded.

“But being with you, everything feels new.” Magnus’ eyes are bright with wonder, as though he can hardly believe it even as he continues, “The world itself is the same, but the way I look at it has changed, I’ve changed, I’m seeing these things that once seemed so dulled by time in a new light. Everything’s brighter – all the good, beautiful things dialled up, and ugly parts of the world fading away for a while – all because of you.”

There’s pressure building behind Alec’s eyes, mounting with the overwhelming emotion surging through him at the idea that he could possibly have changed Magnus’ life for the better in the same way Magnus changed his. It’s not the first time Magnus has said things along those lines, but in this moment, with Magnus baring his heart and staring into Alec’s eyes with burning sincerity, Alec thinks he might actually be able to believe it.

“This,” Magnus says, gesturing between them with their joined hands, “Was never something I anticipated. It’s terrifying, honestly, because surprise is not an emotion I’ve been familiar with in a long time. But you’ve always been able to sneak past my walls without even trying; I’ve never had a defence that could keep you at bay.”

“Loving you makes me want to dive headfirst into the unknown as long as you’re by my side. And Alexander, I will never stop loving you for as long as I live.”

That’s what does it. The dam breaks, and Alec can feel tears sliding down his cheeks, breath stuttering as he stifles a loud inhale that teeters on the edge of becoming a sob.

Somehow the ring is grasped in his hand, presumably pressed there by Izzy or Jace during the few seconds that Alec’s brain had ceased to function in the aftermath of Magnus’ earth-shattering declaration. Magnus is holding its pair, free hand swiping a few stray tears from under his eye (careful not to disturb his eyeliner) before reaching out to cradle Alec’s. Someone’s trembling as Magnus slides the ring onto Alec’s finger, but Alec can’t tell who it is. Most likely, it’s both of them. Without preamble he reaches for Magnus in turn, guiding the ring along his slender fingers.

The moment stretches out and Alec is aware only of the indescribable relief coursing through him at the sight of the sliver band finally sitting in its rightful place on Magnus’ left hand, combined with comforting weight of the ring resting on his own, and Brother Zachariah’s words, “I now pronounce you one,” reverberating through him.

Finally, Magnus tugs him close, not bothering to wait for prompting, and Alec falls into him. Magnus captures his lips and it feels both shockingly new and perfectly familiar all at once. Alec gasps when he feels the cool metal of the ring, not yet fully warmed by Magnus’ body heat, as Magnus’ hand reaches up to cup his jaw, thumb caressing along Alec’s cheekbone. Pressing impossibly closer, Magnus swallows the sound, tilting Alec’s head a little so he can deepen the kiss. Alec obliges, a desperate edge to the way he pulls Magnus’ lower lip between his teeth and slides his hand up Magnus’ arm to grip his bicep.

Muffled by the rushing in his ears, Alec hears Jace wolfwhistle behind him. He feels Magnus’ lips curve up in an involuntary smirk and Alec doesn’t so much as react to his parabatai’s antics except to tighten his grip on Magnus’ arm, savouring the feel of his fiancé against him. By the angel, his husband.

They break apart after a few moments more, breathing heavily. Alec’s eyelids flutter open and he’s met by the sight of Magnus’ real eyes, unglamoured, an intimate sight for him alone. Forehead pressed against Magnus’, Alec is close enough to see the darker gold radiating from his dilated pupils and be enthralled by the way the champagne flecks at the edge of his irises catch the light. Pulling back slightly, Alec can hear the shuffling of people starting to get to their feet, migrating to the edges of the clearing to mingle. Or to gossip, would probably be more accurate, if downworlders are anywhere near as bad as shadowhunters are.

He is just stepping away, half a mind to tug Magnus away to a more private location for a few minutes, when gentle music starts to play, whispering through the branches and filling the air with a soft melody. An expectant hush falls.

“You better not think you’re getting out of dancing with me,” Magnus murmurs in Alec’s ear, pressing up against his side as he leans in.

Alec chuckles deep in his throat, putting up a token resistance even as Magnus’ hand on the small of his back guides them both forwards, towards the centre of the glade which is now miraculously clear of chairs.

“You sure you’re up for that?” Alec teases, “I distinctly remember you complaining non-stop about your poor bruised feet after Havana.”

He’s been practicing with Izzy (and, on one memorable occasion, Jace) for weeks. But Magnus doesn’t need to know that.

Magnus feigns indignance, pulling back a little so Alec can see his face properly when he raises his eyebrows and faux-pouts. The effect is significantly lessened by the tenderness Alec can see sparkling in his eyes and the soft upturn of his lips.

“No amount of bruising – or number of left feet for that matter – would be enough to make me miss out on our first dance as husbands.”

“Okay,” Alec breathes, spinning Magnus in to face him and dropping a hand to grip his waist, relishing the look of shocked delight that overtakes Magnus’ face, “Let’s dance, husband.”

#malec #shadowhunters #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec wedding #jace herondale #isabelle lightwood #catarina loss #raphael santiago #my fic #shtv #jace lightwood #i never know what to tag him as fml #i spend so much time on this and i'm so proud plz validate me

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