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bussanbaby · 7 years ago

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It all looks like a postcard, Magnus muses as he steps out onto a wide branch, his hands finding purchase on a thinner one above his head to prevent a fall to his not-quite-death as he surveys the neighborhood.

It’s not very fancy, per se; after all, it’s only the suburbs, although there are white picket fences, trampolines and children’s toys scattered between lawn sprinklers, making for quite an idyllic view. Speaking of kids, there are none in sight, as it is only 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning and most of them are probably watching cartoons and eating sugary cereal in their pajamas.

The sun warms spots on Magnus’ skin where it breaks through the thick canopy of leaves, as he makes his way across the tree and jumps down onto the roof just below the branch. The window is already cracked open, so Magnus pushes it further up, enough to fit himself through it. It’s not that easy, with legs much longer than when he was a kid, but years of practice pay off and he manages to not fall on his face.

Magnus slips a dark tote bag from his shoulder and sets it on Alec’s desk – the only cluttered spot compared to an otherwise tidy room (for a teenage boy, anyway), before making his way to the bed pushed against the opposite wall. Alec hasn’t acknowledged him yet from where he’s lying on top of the sheets, a book propped up against his bare chest, part of the title being the word ‘mockingbird’. Only his best friend is nerdy enough to do the optional reading during the summer, on a Saturday, of all days.

The mattress creaks and protests when Magnus climbs onto it, plops himself down almost right in Alec’s lap, their legs tangled and Magnus’ back pressed against the poster-filled wall. Belatedly, he realizes it might not have been the wisest decision, because Alec’s shirtless and definitely incredibly distracting. Still, this is a foolproof way of getting his attention so Magnus just hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself.

Alec rests the open book down on his chest and pushes himself up onto his elbows with a soft sigh; the look he shoots Magnus was probably aiming for unamused and maybe even chastising, but it falls short and instead ends up being disgustingly fond.

“You know, you can use the front door like a normal person,” Alec says, a lopsided smile curling onto his face as he flops down again. He looks pretty like that – with hair a bird’s nest, sun-born freckles spilling over the bridge of his nose, and eyes glittering with a sleepy kind of mirth.

Magnus shrugs nonchalantly. “The tree is more fun.”

They lapse into a moment of comfortable silence and Magnus occupies himself by drawing shapes on Alec’s side with his finger, watching the muscles beneath the skin twitch and tense when it tickles.

“Where are your siblings?” Magnus asks, letting his head fall back against the wall to watch Alec from beneath a fringe of lashes; it’s eerily quiet in the Lightwood household, with only the subdued din of Miss Lightwood puttering in the kitchen downstairs.

“Izzy’s at her science club, then she has her self-defense class later in the evening. And Jace is off somewhere, disappointing God probably. Maybe committing minor crimes with Simon, who knows,” Alec answers with a hint of a smirk in the corner of his lips, playing into his and Magnus’ inside joke - Alec’s adopted brother has recently started his rebellious phase, trying to seem all tough and badass, which so far has only gotten him into more trouble and detentions than it’s worth.

“And you’re in your room, just waiting for your best friend to save you from boredom,” Magnus alludes, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. His knee bumps against Alec’s ribs, another point of contact that turns Magnus’ skin hot.

Alec levels him with an analyzing stare, one of his eyes squinted and the tip of his tongue trapped between dry lips.

“Okay, I’ll bite the bullet. What are you up to?” he asks, feigning suspicion while he tries to fight back a smile.

While people usually assume Magnus is the more reckless one, it’s been proven in the past they both have an audacious streak a mile wide, bouncing ideas off each other until they inevitably end up with amazing memories and maybe a scar or two.

Magnus straightens up, catching Alec’s eyes like he’s gearing up for a confession.

“I want you to shave my head.”

“What?!” Alec yelps, sitting up so violently Magnus worries he’s gonna get whiplash, hazel eyes wide with almost comical horror; his book thumps onto the ground, forgotten.

“Not the whole thing, you idiot! Just the sides, so I can have a mohawk,” Magnus explains, hands lifting to gesture towards his hair.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” Alec chides, shaking his head. He gives a long sigh, one of his hands resting on Magnus’ knee. “And why me? I’m not a hairdresser.”

“Because my dad won’t let me make an appointment, since it’s ‘unprofessional and I will look like a punk’ as he put it.” While quoting his father, Magnus lowers his voice to make it sound menacing and smooth at the same time, adding air-quotes to the equation just out of sheer pettiness.

His dad has always been strict with Magnus in a different way than Alec’s parents were with him - Asmodeus Bane consistently put forth elegance and good reputation, his influences stretching far over the town as a big business figure. He didn’t want his only son looking anything else other than immaculate and poised all the time; obviously, a mohawk didn’t fit that sort of appearance, but Magnus was tired of answering ‘Yes, papa’ to every request given to him.

“I don’t really wanna be on your dad’s shit list, I feel like he doesn’t like me anyway.” Alec’s voice is quieter, almost unsure. His eyes drift to his lap where he starts picking at a stray thread in his sweats.

His dad has some opinions about Alec that Magnus doesn’t want to voice out loud, but after all the years Alec and Magnus have spent joined at the hip, Asmodeus had no choice but to warm up to the eldest Lightwood son.

With a cut off noise of protest, Magnus wraps his fingers around a warm wrist, squeezes once, making Alec look up at him, his lower lip worried between his teeth.

“He does, he just has a funny way of showing it. So, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

Alec’s arm twitches in Magnus’ grip and for a split second, he thinks Alec’s gonna do something, either take it back or deepen their touch, but nothing like that happens. After a moment of deliberation, Alec rolls his eyes with such emphasis that something cracks in his neck.

“Fuck, okay. You know I can’t say no to you.”

The breathy way the swear leaves Alec’s mouth and the words that follow it confuse the blood in Magnus’ body - it can’t choose whether to flow up into his cheeks or go downstairs. Still, his face lights up with a pleased grin as he brings both his palms to cup Alec’s cheeks with theatrical seriousness.

“You’re the best, buddy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Say that again when you look like a cockatoo after a close meeting with a lawnmower,” Alec says defeatedly, but there’s laughter beneath the fake resignation, mixing with Magnus’ snickering. As much as Alec tries to make himself seem indifferent, Magnus sees right through him, notices the smile he tries to hide as he moves off the bed and towards his desk.

Hooking one finger into the edge of the tote bag, Alec glances inside, taking note of the trimmer neatly wrapped in its cord. “I see you came prepared.”

They relocate to the small ensuite bathroom, barely enough space for the two of them to stand face to face, but they make do - Alec subtly kicks a dirty t-shirt closer to the laundry bin and Magnus elbows him in the ribs as they try to switch places.

Magnus can’t count the times he’s been here before, taking quick showers before tucking himself in for sleep on the spare mattress by Alec’s bed, chilling on the closed toilet as Alec brushes his teeth on lazy mornings when they’re too tired to even go eat breakfast.

Magnus plops himself down in the tub to minimize the mess, then tugs off his shirt, throwing it aside. Behind his back, Alec tinkers with the trimmer, trying to get the interchangeable part to stay on, Magnus can see his reflection in the mirror above the sink - brows furrowed in concentration, mouth twisted into a sour line.

The soft light filters in through the small window near the ceiling, accentuating all the lines of Alec’s body and the ropy muscle he’s been building over the last couple of months in the garage gym; it paints all the fuzzy hairs coming in over his sternum and down the middle of his stomach gold as he leans back to plug in the cord.

The trimmer wakes up to life and Alec perches on the edge of the tub, his fingers carding through Magnus’ messy hair. “Only the sides.”

Magnus nods with a quiet chuckle. “Make me look beautiful, Lightwood.”

“I don’t have to do anything, then.” Alec’s answer is immediate, soaked with comfort, like the words have been sitting in the back of his throat for a while. His hand freezes for a split second, buried in dark hair, but then it resumes its work, with the help of a comb marking out all the areas to keep lines straight.

Magnus presses his lips together into a thin line, a smile trying to worm its way onto his face.

They’ve been like this for a while, all lingering touches and flirtatious quips, quick kisses dropped into hair when the other one is supposed to be sleeping. Magnus has been told that best friends don’t behave like this, that they’re weird, but he and Alec have never been anything other than strange.

Magnus doesn’t remember a single year of his life that didn’t have Alec in it - all through kindergarten, elementary school and now middle school, they’ve been by each other’s side; they played pirates and read superhero comics on the floor of Magnus’ living room, walked along the creek behind the town’s edge, casting stones into the water and telling bad jokes.

And they still do all of these things and so much more.

Magnus has never found anyone he felt as safe with as Alec, whose opinion mattered just as much, who could placate his anger and fear just with one touch of his fingertips. Back when he used to have nightmares, Magnus would climb over the tree and into Alec’s room. Even at three in the morning, the half-awake Alec would only pull back the covers and wrap Magnus up in his arms, murmuring something about kicking every monster’s ass out there before drifting back into soft snores.

They lapse into comfortable silence with only the steady buzzing to accompany it. At one point, Magnus closes his eyes, hangs his head slightly, focusing on the sensations around him.

One of his feet feels close to being asleep and Alec’s touch keeps surfacing goosebumps onto his skin, sending shivers skittering down the knobby line of his spine. Magnus breathes deep, focuses on the drag of those fingertips down the curve of his skull, how careful and diligent Alec is, making sure to get everything even.

“What if I shaved a dick onto your head?” Alec hums at one point, drawing Magnus out of his thoughts; surprised, he bursts into a fit of immature giggles and Alec laughs along, his palm fitted into the crook of Magnus’ neck.

“If you were Jace, I’d consider that as a danger. But I trust you.” Magnus turns to look up at Alec - it feels significant somehow, the way they hold each other’s gaze, Alec’s hand on his bare shoulder.

“Alright,” Alec hums and that’s it, another moment to tuck into their pockets like colorful autumn leaves just after they fall. Lately, everything feels charged, a storm waiting to happen between them, first thunder growling in the lingering glances, in the unspoken words left hanging in the air.

It’s some time later, when Alec straightens out with a sigh, stretches with arms high above his head. “Done, I think.”

He brushes off all the loose hairs from Magnus’ back and helps him out of the bathtub, before motioning towards the mirror.

It actually looks better than Magnus expected - the hair atop his head is still sticking up in all directions, but the sides are just the right length; when he runs his fingers across them, it feels funny, scratchy but soft at the same time.

“Thank you, Alexander,” he says, turning around and leaning against the edge of the sink counter.

Alec pushes off the tiled wall, crowds closer to Magnus until there’s little space between them, before reaching out to brush his knuckles against the side of Magnus’ face.

“Stray hair,” he offers for an explanation, but his fingers drift further, over Magnus’ cheekbone and the sharp line of his jaw to stop at his mouth, thumb pushed against the lower lip.

They’re teetering.

Always walking a thin line of something more, of a touch a second too long, of a heartbeat just on the side of too quick. Magnus loves it, hates it, a little bit of both. It makes him lie awake at night, imagining the moment when the tide breaks.

It also scares him, in a way. Because this is Alec, the person that knows Magnus better than he knows himself, his best friend that he loves with his whole heart. Maybe that’s the problem, maybe the love that used to be purely platonic changed directions, left Magnus wanting more.

A couple years back, Magnus realized he and Alec don’t fit the clean-cut best friends stereotype. Watching other boys run across the soccer field behind the school, hearing them swear and push at each other in pent-up anger, laughing about how ‘gay’ hugging another guy is, Magnus was left with a weird feeling sitting low behind his ribs, a realization he subconsciously already understood.

The signs were all there, from comments whispered as they passed through the school corridors, through meaningful glances from Izzy and Jace, to their parents’ reluctant confusion. And Magnus isn’t blind, he knows normally boys don’t watch the stars from the roof underneath one blanket and they don’t teach each other to swim only to end up in a tangle of limbs at the seashore. They don’t hold hands while falling asleep and they don’t wear each other’s t-shirts just because and they don’t pine after their best friends, because they love them.

They were never normal. They were them, Magnus and Alec, two boys against the world.

Magnus swallows, watches Alec’s eyes follow the movement, deer-like eyelashes sweeping slow against the delicate skin underneath. With a staccato tremble stuck beneath his skin, Magnus lifts his palms from where they hang along the line of his body, fits them against Alec’s sides instead.

Alec’s breath hitches, Magnus moves his hands up, up, up, over the plane of his stomach, over the lines of his ribs, to where his rabbiting heart sits in its cage.

Magnus is tired of walking on the tightrope, trying to keep his balance; he wants to jump.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers into the distance between their lips, feels Alec’s thumb slip to his chin, then around the side of his neck; his other palm settling at his lower back, tugging him just a fraction closer.

“Please,” Alec whispers back, voice trembling.

Magnus jumps.

It’s nice and strange and slightly overwhelming; Alec’s lips are soft and dry, he tastes faintly like tea and something sweet; his hands tighten on Magnus, bring him even closer until they’re chest to chest.

He starts to understand every line about kissing in books and all the movie scenes he has seen, where the world stops and only two people are left at their own mercy. Before, he could hear birds chirping on the branch outside and the buzzing noises of the tv downstairs, but now his ears are filled only with the hum of his own blood rushing through his veins, the marching beat of his heart.

Magnus forgets to breathe, forgets to think as he wraps his arms around Alec’s neck. His nose presses into Alec’s cheek as they shift together, fall into a rhythm that turns from testing waters into a fervent confession of want. They kiss harder, braver, like everything is about to end even when it isn’t.

They break apart to catch their breath, but being far from each other feels like a curse, so they gasp for air with foreheads pressed together, buzzing with a craving to touch. Alec tips forward, presses his warm mouth against Magnus’ neck, scrapes his teeth against the skin there, wrenching a soft moan from Magnus’ chest, heat curling low in his stomach.

He’s been staring at those pink lips for a while now, imagined how they would feel on his, but nothing he ever came up with compares to this - electric and exciting and so oddly familiar Magnus doesn’t know how he survived without them so long.

With a low noise in his throat, Magnus spins them around, surges for Alec’s lips, who kisses him back like his life depends on it; perhaps in that moment, it does. Those hands bury themselves in Magnus’ freshly cut hair, grip it tight in fistfuls and pull, not enough to hurt, but enough to turn Magnus’ knees into jello just for a second.

Alec calls his name in a breathy voice like it’s the only word he knows, makes it sound like so much more than six letters, like a plea and a command at once.

They’ve crossed a line they can never step back behind, but it feels good, it feels like the right thing to do; Magnus doesn’t care, because he’s not falling - he’s flying close to the sun that won’t burn his wings.

Shifting his weight, Magnus pushes a thigh between Alec’s, feels the taut lines of his body, how equally affected he is by what they’re doing. It sends a spike of white-hot adrenaline through Magnus, as he repeats the motion, kissing Alec again, reckless and open-mouthed and just a little bit sloppy.

Their hands roam freely as they kiss, Alec’s palms drifting from caressing Magnus’ cheeks to squeeze at his shoulders, then scratch blunt nails down his back, equally impatient and reverent in each gesture, as if he can’t believe he’s allowed to.

Magnus can’t believe it either, that’s he’s here, in Alec’s tiny bathroom, kissing the boy of his dreams, pressing curious fingers above the waistband of his sweatpants. He needs to feel more, make another memory to keep tucked into the favorite corners of his brain.

Swiftly, Magnus puts his hands under Alec’s thighs, hauls him onto the counter and oh, the new angle is something beautiful. Alec makes a surprised noise, fingers grabbing tight around Magnus’ biceps to steady himself; they break apart again and Alec looks utterly debauched - his lips are red and shiny, his face is flushed and his eyes hazy, focused only on Magnus himself.

“Working out paid off,” Alec teases, but it has no bite, as he’s breathless, smiling giddily at Magnus.

“I’m going to benchpress your ass one day,” Magnus barks back, half-thinking about what he’s even saying, busy with staring up at Alec; his higher brain functions might as well be all switched off.

Alec throws his head back with a laugh and Magnus uses that opportunity to nose along the line of his clavicle, catching hints of Alec’s favorite cologne.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Alec quips, wrapping his legs around Magnus’ waist to pull him closer; something behind him clatters to the floor, but neither one of them looks.

“You’ll see.”

Magnus slowly moves his palms up Alec’s thighs and over his hips to grope at his ass, but suddenly, there’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps on a creaky staircase.

“Alec, is everything alright?” Miss Lightwood calls out, knocking on the closed doors to her son’s room.

Both of them freeze, wide-eyed; Magnus swears his heart stops beating for a couple of seconds.

Alec’s mouth hangs open as he blinks rapidly to get back some semblance of coherent thought, his brain working on overdrive.

“Everything’s good, mom! I just dropped something!” Alec yells back and they both pray Maryse doesn’t hear the tremble in Alec’s voice.

There’s a moment of silence, a mother considering whether her teenager is bullshitting her or telling the truth; in the end, she believes him.

“Okay. Come downstairs, help me do the dishes.”

“In a minute!”

The stairs creak again, indicating Maryse’s departure and Magnus lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Alec’s fingers find his, tangling together, the previous mood simmering down to something more subtle, not forgotten, but put on hold in a silent promise.

“That was close,” Magnus huffs, swallows the cotton stuck in his throat.

“Yeah.”

Maybe it should be weird, awkward, filled with half-aborted confessions; it isn’t. It feels like nothing changed between them, like they’re still them, still Magnus-and-Alec.

Magnus lifts Alec’s palm to his lips, kisses the ridges of his knuckles.

They still love each other, that will never change.

#malec #shadowhunters #blushyalec #hwob #userrahul #magnusbaene #hufflebee #gayndsoft #belovedbane #magnusragnor #userri #magnusbanne #daddariossmile #confidentalec #magnuslights #userria #my fics #boxer au #this belongs in the same verse as one other fic bc i have no self control

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