Work Text:
"Magnus..."
"Don't try and weasel out now, Alec. A deal is a deal."
"I didn't even make the deal! I just got suckered into it," Alec protested.
"That is, fortunately, not by fault of mine or something that I have to take into consideration," Magnus replied calmly. "Do have some trust in me. I won't throw you to the werewolves."
Alec touched the peacock-eye patterned silk blindfold over his eyes. He didn't know where Magnus had gotten it and probably didn't want to, but it was tied behind his head with magic. He couldn't untangle the knot. "Isn't this slightly excessive?"
Magnus laughed. "No. Because you'll see a shirt or a pot of make-up and you'll balk and try to run. You can see yourself when we're there and that's final."
It was a bet, a bet by Jace, actually. If Magnus won, he got to do anything he wanted with Alec. Likewise to Jace. It was something of a good-natured battle royale between parabatai and boyfriend and, right now, Alec hated them both. He hadn't known about the bet until afterwards, where Jace had called and gave him a very hesitant run-down of what had happened.
Magnus had decided that, out of all the things in the whole wide world that he could do - nice things like a walk through the park or potentially disastrous things like watching hours on end of What Not to Wear and pointing out that Alec's clothes looked like that - Magnus had decided that he was going to dress Alec, do his make-up, and take him out clubbing.
Alec would rather eat his own foot.
Magnus laughed again. It was much closer this time, sounding only a ten or twelve inches away. "Your eyebrows are furrowed and you've got a frown." Fingers touched his lips gently. "You're thinking about how you would rather do anything else but this again."
Alec huffed.
"I'm not going to go too terribly far out of your comfort zone, darling," he drawled. "Like I said, have some trust."
"I'm already out of my comfort zone." That was true. His palms were clammy and his stomach was unsettled with nervousness. He was going out to a party, with his boyfriend, dressed like his boyfriend, who, no offense intended because Alec loved him for it, looked gay. Nevermind that Alec had kissed him in front of a room full of strangers; this was different. This wasn't life or death; this was look at us. Alec didn't like being looked at.
"You're in my capable hands, Alec," Magnus replied simply. "Now let me work. I'm going to take your clothes off now."
Alec's heartbeat picked up slightly. His face felt flush. It wasn't that they weren't exclusive. They had done the DTR. He knew where they stood. It wasn't like they were falling into bed every chance they got, though, and Alec didn't want to. And yes, Alec might have ninety-five percent of Magnus's body memorized to heart by now, but that was only because Magnus liked to slink about wearing nothing but his own skin immediately following a shower or when he went to bed - at least, he did, until Alec blustered at him to put some clothes on. But Magnus had never seen him naked and he wanted to keep it that way for now.
"As methodically as a professional, Alec." Magnus interrupted his train of thoughts. "I'm not going to be ogling you until you're in your clothes and ready to go." His hand was a brief, reassuring weight on his shoulder before it slipped away.
Fingers slipped under Alec's shirt and pulled it up and over his head. The blindfold didn't budge, but Alec reached up to flatten his hair. Magnus's fingers didn't touch on any part of his skin and he felt rather than heard the warlock move away. There were no eyes burning holes in his skin. There was a rustling of something and then material pooled around his neck. It was cool to the touch. Not warm and inviting like his sweatshirts. Alec swallowed.
"Relax," Magnus said, gently guiding his arms through the holes for the sleeves. There were no sleeves, though. His arms were chilled in the cool loft air.
"My Marks-" he started, feeling like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. If anyone saw his Marks, they would know that he was a Shadowhunter. Despite the fact that he'd already come out to the Clave, ninety-nine percent of them weren't happy about it. He couldn't flaunt it like Magnus did, his homosexuality.
"It'll be taken care of." The back of Magnus's hand brushed Alec's bare arm. The cold of the rings on his fingers made more goosebumps spring up. "Stand up."
Alec licked his lips again, nibbling gently on the bottom one as he stood.
"Pants," Magnus warned him, giving him a moment to digest before Alec felt his fingers smoothly undoing the button on his jeans.
His face, previously flushed, felt hotter than the time when he and Jace had accidentally set their shared bedroom on fire in Alicante when they were young. His fingers curled into loose fists at his sides as Magnus unbuttoned, unzipped, and shimmied the denim down his legs. Left standing clad in only plain black boxers, he was startlingly aware of all of his insecurities again. He was young, he was inexperienced, he was sufficiently down far on the handsome list, he didn't have a body like Magnus, he didn't have the allure that Magnus's other boyfriends or girlfriends had had, he was scarred, he was covered in Marks-
"Which do you prefer? Turquoise or vermillion?" Magnus's words broke his train of thoughts.
Alec opened his eyes, forgetting that the blindfold was there to block his vision. "What?" he forced out.
"Turquoise or vermillion?" Magnus repeated. "Turquoise is always a good fallback colour, especially at this time of year, but I think a good vermillion is classy any time if you've got the right outfit." He helped Alec step into a new pair of pants and pulled them up, speaking the entire time like dressing your blind-folded boyfriend was something he did everyday.
Alec laughed weakly. "I don't even know what vermillion is," he admitted. If Magnus was trying to deflect the awkwardness, he was managing pretty well.
Magnus gave a theatrical sigh. "Oh, Alec. I must get you a box of seventy-two count assorted colored crayons." He pulled the pants up around his hips and fastened the button. "Next I imagine you'll be telling me that you don't know what cerulean is." He pulled up the zipper and the displaced air fanning Alec told him that Magnus had stood up.
"Blue," Alec said softly. He only knew that because Magnus said his eyes were that colour.
"There's hope yet." There was a smile in Magnus's voice. "Alright, you can sit down."
Alec sat back after feeling for the chair. The pants Magnus had put on him felt constricting. Not tight, really, but he knew that they were there, hugging his legs and thighs and hips like a second skin. They were low-rise; Alec wanted to pull them up but knew full well they were settled right where they should be. At least his shirt seemed to be long enough to fall over the waistband.
"Are my pants vermillion?" he asked shortly, hearing Magnus rummaging through things that clicked or clanked as he moved them. Probably make-up. Alec was trying to not think about it. Magnus had promised he wouldn't go overboard, but Alec didn't know if it was possible. He was finally getting the chance to play dress-up.
Magnus chuckled. "No. Not this time. I'll find a pair, though, so I can teach you colours."
"I thought you were going to get me a box of crayons."
Magnus's laugh was a breathy little exhale. He was close again. Alec could smell the sandalwood and feel his hair move as Magnus's breath hit it. "Maybe I'll get you both. I'm going to remove your blindfold, but you have to keep your eyes closed. This is a matter of life and death."
"No, it's not," Alec muttered, but kept his eyes closed as the blindfold fell away.
"Bad make-up can be," Magnus advised. "Lean forward."
Alec leaned forward. "Well, I don't wear make-up."
"You are right now," Magnus said.
Alec jerked as something soft and spongy was pressed to his eyelid. He almost opened his eyes and only just managed to keep them closed, his mind supplying that it was a make-up... what? Brush? It wasn't a brush, but it was something like a sponge on the end of a plastic match stick. He had watched Isabelle doing her make-up enough to pick up a thing or not.
"Don't move," Magnus reminded.
"You startled me," Alec muttered, swallowing again. "Not too much?" he asked again, knowing Magnus would laugh, because he'd pleaded the case countless times since Magnus had set the 'reward'.
"I already promised, Alexander." Magnus's voice had gone a touch deeper, and more focussed, deep into concentration on what was his usual morning routine.
Alec fell silent. He knew better than to interrupt Magnus while he was doing make-up, his own or someone else's. He was frighteningly intense, which was maybe a good thing in the circumstances. There was something oddly comforting in the way that Magnus swept, lined, dabbed, or prodded with the make-up utensils. Alec couldn't guess some of them. Some of them he knew right away. He tried to lose himself in the scent of sandalwood rather than what Magnus was painting on his face.
It must have worked, because eventually Magnus pulled away with a satisfied hum.
"There we go."
Again Alec resisted the temptation to open his eyes. He knew Magnus probably wanted him to ask if he looked good, or whatever, but he didn't want to dwell on it. The make-up was worse than Magnus picking out his clothes, no matter what he had promised. He had said to trust him and he did, but it was like teaching Church to go swimming in the bathtub. It wasn't necessary wrong, just... out of his own personal realm of possibility.
Magnus clapped his hands together. "Alright! Finishing touches! Hold on, I'm moving the chair." He shifted the chair around - Alec trying not to fall off of it - until he felt his knees brush the vanity. "Alright, give me your hands."
"Why?" Alec asked shortly, offering his hands.
"The inquisitive mind will figure it out later," Magnus said, putting Alec's hands flat, palm-down, on the vanity.
There was some more rummaging and Magnus was back at his hands, doing something that Alec couldn't see. Until - a whiff of something, something strong and almost painfully sharp, reached his nose. He was taken back to a weekend spent at the Penhallows's place, of Isabelle in his bedroom talking Council and complaining about politics, her feet kicked up on the top of desk while she painted her toenails a startling lime green.
"Magnus," he complained aloud. He tried to pull his hand away, but Magnus grabbed his wrist. "Do not paint my fingernails!"
"It's nothing gaudy, I swear. I'll have it gone with the snap of a finger tonight afterwards."
"This was not part of the bargain."
"Actually, ‘anything I wanted’ was part of the bargain, but I'm going easy on you," Magnus replied.
Now that Alec knew what he was doing, he could feel Magnus working on each individual finger, barely spending seconds on one before moving to the other. It was one of those things that was probably clockwork to him, too.
Magnus switched hands and finished the fingernails there before speaking. "Okay. That's finished. Next. Make sure you keep your eyes closed, and put your hand over your mouth and nose."
"You just painted my nails."
"They're dry," Magnus said airily, over the clink of glass somewhere nearby.
"How?" Alec protested, feeling with his fingers to tap on one of his nails. They weren't wet, but from the smoothness, he could tell they'd been painted.
"Magic."
"Oh, so you can dry them with magic, but you have to paint them manually?" Alec put his hand over his nose and mouth.
"It's more fun that way. Hold your breath."
Alec was about to ask why when there was a shower of particles against his face. He flinched instinctually. It felt like tiny water droplets, like cologne sprayed from the bottle, but it wasn't exactly liquid and it didn't have a scent, either.
There were a few more puffs of whatever was being sprayed before Magnus allowed him to remove his hand.
"Are we finished?" Alec asked dryly.
"Just about." There was a click of something opening and then closing.
Magnus's hands swept through Alec's hair. Alec winced again and reached up to stop him from messing it up, but Magnus swatted him away. "Leave it alone," he warned.
Alec huffed and shifted uncomfortably. "I'm going to look stupid."
"Do I look stupid?" Magnus retorted.
"No," Alec said, somewhat reluctantly. He wouldn't be here at all if Magnus looked stupid. He wouldn't have ever called him if he thought he didn't looked incredibly gorgeous.
"Exactly, darling." Magnus tweaked a piece of his hair between his fingers before pulling away. "Okay, we're finished."
Alec straightened his spine. "Do we really have to-"
"Wait!" It sounded like Magnus lunged across the room to jerk the closet door open. "Forgot something."
"Magnus."
"Sorry, sorry."
Alec had the vague impression Magnus was doing something to him, but he couldn't tell what. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. There. I'm really done now. And yes, we really are going to this party. Come along, little Shadowhunter. The time of your life awaits."
Alec heard the bass pounding as they pulled up outside the building. His heart seemed like it was trying to mirror the sentiment.
"And your destiny will be revealed as we step inside the doors of Chateau Lyre," Magnus said, voice dropped to a playfully ominous tone.
Alec wanted to smack him, but he seemed unable to do anything else except wrap his arms around himself and stare at the dashboard. Magnus had let him see, although anything that he might have seen his reflection in was magicked to not show a reflection at all. Or if he looked at himself, he would go transparent to his own eyes. But he didn't care. That didn't matter. He was about to go out somewhere, this building, where there was a huge party, with hundreds of people that would see him and recognize him and remember him. Dressed up like Magnus, with painted fingernails and make-up.
He wanted to draw his knees up to his chest, but the tight pants didn't allow for much movement in that way.
"Alec?" Magnus looked at him gently. "I promise you that you're going to be okay. I wouldn't make you do this if I thought you wouldn't have a chance of enjoying it. And no one is going to recognize you. I put an enchantment over you that they'll recognize you as a Shadowhunter and Alexander Lightwood as they see you, but as soon as either we or they leave the building, they will forget immediately who I was with. The only impression they're going to be left with is that I was with something incredibly gorgeous. Which I am."
Alec blushed and turned away. "... Okay," he mumbled. He didn't know what else to say. It was the perfect solution to the problem of being gay in the Clave. Foolproof, but yet, he couldn't shake the lingering awkwardness.
"Good." Magnus got out of the car (and Alec realized just then that he had never seen this car before and he wondered where Magnus had borrowed it from this time) and joined up with him on the other side (after Alec had thrown his own door open and gotten out; he hated it when Magnus pulled out a chair or opened his doors). "Come on."
The building was large, bustling, and full of more people than Alec could remember seeing in a long time. Faeries, warlocks, werewolves, and even vampires, together, in the same room. If the Clave could see this.
"It turns out," Magnus said conversationally, "that the way to bring Downworlders together is a really good band and some quality alcohol."
Alec laughed despite himself, leaning closer to Magnus when a pair that looked not quite mundane but not quite Downworld ran past, yelling.
Magnus wrapped his arm around him, leaning over. "No one will remember you. Except me, of course. I'll never forget you, obviously. So, let go of your comfort zone. It feels nice."
Alec straightened up and, instead of pushing Magnus's arm away, he reached around and curled his fingers into his belt loops. He could practically feel the warlock vibrating with humor, or maybe it was pride, excitement, something. "A mirror," Alec said sternly. "I want this glamour off of me so I can actually see what you did to me."
"You wish is my command. You have two more wishes from your personal Magnus before the night is over." He grabbed Alec's hand and pulled him along.
Alec laughed quietly, keeping his eyes on the back of Magnus's head. He looked nice tonight. He always did. He was dressed in a sliced up yellow shirt beneath a deep blue blazer, the letter B in sparkling jewels a decorated pin on his lapel. He was wearing blue slacks and his shoes were dressy, white with purple laces. His hair was decorated with a thousand spikes and multi-colored swipes of highlight with a million glitter particles.
Magnus's reflection beamed back at him, his cat-eyes alight with glee and barely contained curiosity. It wasn't until just then that Alec realized that they were standing in front of a full-length mirror, and the reflection standing next to Magnus was his own.
Magnus had put him in a muscle shirt. The front was fabric, cotton or polyester or something Alec didn't know, but the back was leather. He could see where it changed at his shoulder and he turned a bit to see the thousand bouncing lights in the room bounce off the gleam of the leather. His Marks stood out brightly on his skin, beneath the black of the jacket and the black of the pants he was wearing, so conforming to his body that Alec practically felt his own eyes bug out of his head. He saw definition to his body that he didn't even know he had. His shoes were tall boots, also made from leather and not quite knee-high, hidden away beneath his trousers impossibly, a slight rise on the heel that was adding another inch to his height.
His skin caught the glare of the lights and glittered back at him teasingly, making him blink as his own reflection caught the light and the glitter on his skin and reflected it. It was subtle, not the glitter Magnus was wearing; Alec ran his fingers through the shimmers and his fingers came away speckled, but not coated. His hair was ruffled, pushed back by Magnus's hands coated in hair gel, given his what-he-would-normally-call-bedhead look hadn't fallen down. It was spiked gently at the ends, where it tapered off around his jaw.
There were black shadows swept under his eyes, shadow and kohl that seemed oddly fitting where it was, not overbearing like the way Magnus played with his own make-up sometimes. Blue lined under his eyes as well, eyeliner, or blue kohl, or something. Alec didn't know enough about make-up to know what it was, but it brought out his eyes. He touched his face gently over the glitter there, too - was this really him? - watching as his reflection did the same, blue-painted fingernails matching the same exact color as the eyes that stared incredulously back at him.
"... Wow."
Magnus beamed. "I agree."
Alec stared at his reflection for a moment longer, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "... What... wow."
Magnus laughed, slinging his arms around him. Alec initially stiffened but relaxed again. Nothing to fear here. Besides, the make-up and glitter kind of gave his sexuality away, anyway. "I told you that you'd enjoy it," he rumbled.
Alec turned to look at Magnus. "How did you do this?" he demanded.
Magnus's smile faltered slightly. "What do you mean? I did it like I'd do my own, you were there the entire time-"
"No," Alec interrupted, shrugging Magnus's arms off. "How did you do... this?" He waved his hand vaguely at him, his reflection. "I don't look like that. I'm not..." He struggled for a word and ended up settling on "... sexy."
Magnus's eyes softened. "Yes. Alexander. You are. I didn't do anything to you. I just added a muscle shirt and some make-up. I didn't change you. Because you're beautiful enough as is. I don't need to try and change it."
Alec stared at him for a moment before looking away to his reflection again. His throat felt tight, but his chest was radiating warmth. All he could say, again, was "wow".
Magnus snaked his arms around his waist. "Wow is right, love. So, if you ever wonder why my face does a thing when I see you, it's because you're ringing my wow bells and I'm too deafened by them to speak."
Alec leaned back against him, folding his hands over Magnus's. "Don't be stupid."
"I try not to," Magnus replied. "Shall we get a drink?"
"I don't drink."
"You don't drink when you're Alexander Lightwood of the Clave," Magnus corrected. "But tonight, you're Alexander Lightwood, property of Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn."
Alec's cheeks burned. "I'm not your property."
"No?" Magnus intoned, raising an eyebrow. "Well. We'll just have to see about that."
Before Alec could speak, Magnus had spun him around and kissed him. His back hit the mirror. Magnus's lips pushed against his with a sort of frenzied desire, his fingers slipping up Alec's sides and beneath the leather-cotton of his shirt. Magnus's fingers brushed patterns against his skin as his lips molded against his.
Alec pulled away with a gasp, so sharply that he nearly hit his head back against the mirror. He was out of breath and his lips felt swollen. He licked them and tasted grape - lip gloss. The mirror was cold against his skin where his shirt had hitched up due to Magnus's wandering hands. "Magnus," he gasped. "We can't-"
"No one's going to remember you," Magnus reminded.
Alec stared at him for a moment as he thought. The light caught a streak of blue in Magnus's hair as he watched and suddenly, he rocked forward to kiss Magnus with enough force for their lips to be bruised in the morning.
When Alec woke up the next morning, he was in Magnus's bed. He was wearing one of Magnus's t-shirts and a pair of his own familiar sweats. His head was throbbing beneath his left temple and his stomach was queasy, but his arm was wrapped securely around Magnus's bare torso as they lay back-to-front. Alec nestled his face below Magnus's shoulder blades, reaching up to shove a piece of his hair out of his face. His hair was sticky with the remains of gel. The fingernail polish was gone from his nails. Glitter sparkled on the sheets, but Alec didn't know if that was from them or from Magnus's general state of living.
"Morning, sleepyhead..." Magnus muttered. His voice was low and deep and slurred, clearly still half asleep himself.
"... Hungover," Alec muttered dryly, tucking his face more securely against Magnus's warm skin.
He recalled laughing and dancing and drinking and a little bit more than he thought possible of him in a public place foreplay before they had stumbled home sometime half past two and collapsed into bed. Alec had practically fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, faerie-alcohol dragging him off to a muddled unconsciousness.
Magnus laughed sleepily. "Yes. Go back to sleep."
Alec almost said that he didn't like sleeping in, but he didn't. He wasn't quite ready to go back to being Alec of the Clave. It wasn't something he wanted to do every Friday night, this dress-up and go out thing, but it was nice once in awhile, to get so out of character.
"Magnus?"
"Yes, Alec?" Magnus sounded like he too was falling back asleep.
"Thanks."
Magnus's body tensed and relaxed as he stretched against him. Then he shuffled over so that he was on his side to face Alec and his tired cat eyes smiled at him. "It was fun."
Alec settled into his arms. "It was, but I think I'd better stop talking before I throw up on you now."
Magnus stifled a laugh against the pillow. "Good idea."
Alec shifted closer and let himself fall victim to the comforting way Magnus rubbed circles onto his back. He let his eyes close and was asleep again before Magnus could have had time to even snap his fingers.