Chapter Text
Alec awoke to the sound of running water. He brushed his fingertips across the quilt lying haphazardly over his waist and thighs, and reached for the body that should have been next to him before opening his eyes and realising he was alone. He huffed loudly; even though it had been a decade, and he had no fear of being abandoned or discarded, he still liked waking up next to Magnus every morning. He could open his eyes, and the first vision of the day would be of his face, his serene expression, the unconscious smile that was always beautiful because it was never deliberate. Alec liked watching the Warlock awaken, watch his pupils dilate and relax, his irises almost glimmering like amber in the sunlight. Magnus hated early mornings, and more often than not would groan loudly, berate Alec for waking him (“How is it my fault?” “I can feel you staring darling”), before shoving his head underneath his pillows and starting to snore again. Whatever words were exchanged, waking with Magnus by his side, even now, was still a novelty that got Alec through the rest of the day. Nothing bad could happen when there was such joy in the smallest, most intimate moments.
Alec swung out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. He pushed the door open, and the muffled sound of a voice suddenly pierced his ears.
“Magnus, please don't sing in the shower, it frightens the neighbours,” Alec quipped, and there was a squeak as Magnus wiped away the condensation from the shower door in order to see out clearly.
“Don't be jealous darling; just because I was asked to sing first on the karaoke at Simon and Isabelle's wedding,” Magnus replied silkily, staring out at Alec with a lust in his eyes so intense that Alec had no choice but to blush.
“That was four years ago Magnus, and the only reason they asked you was to get you away from Raphael before you tore each other's throats out,” Alec muttered, dipping his head and willing his cheeks to lose their beetroot stain.
“Hush now Alexander,” Magnus admonished, and Alec grinned at him, knowing he was in the right. “Why Vampires decide to drink when they know they can't hold their liquor...”
Alec strode up the shower and pulled the door open. Years ago, the act would have been unthinkable; he had never believed he could be so comfortable around another human being. He smirked at the shampoo in Magnus' hair and leaned against the side of the door.
“You and I both know that the Bloody Mary's were your idea,” Alec said, quasi-reprimanding, arms crossed over his holey t-shirt, “You were curious about the effects of mixing blood and vodka together.”
“And a very interesting experiment it was,” Magnus replied smartly, although any attempt at acting superior was gone alongside his clothing.
Alec gave thought to the idea, and a half-appreciative nod of the head, and said, “Maybe not at a wedding next time though.”
“My curiosity had to be sated my dear,” Magnus replied, turning away from Alec for a moment to grab one of thousands of different pots and lotions he had somehow crammed into their atypical shower space. Alec shook his head, laughing to himself in the knowledge that Magnus would always find a way to be inappropriate and get away with it. He still now found himself chuckling over the phrase free-wheeling bisexual.
“Well?” Magnus asked as Alec gazed off into space.
“Well what?” Alec echoed, moving slightly to the right to avoid the spray coming from the shower.
Magnus grinned and it was electric.
“Are you getting in or not?”
Half an hour later, and ironically both sweatier and more worked up than they had been before, Alec and Magnus tumbled out of the shower and back into their bedroom. Knowing he had to be at the Institute in an hour for training – his mother and father had reclaimed the Institute after the Dark War, and he was still honour bound to work alongside them – Alec tore himself away from Magnus' soft hands, and got dressed, despite the Warlock's complaints. In dark trousers, a long sleeved shirt, and black combat boots, Alec shoved his old t-shirt under his pillow, when something caught the attention of the corner of his eye.
Reaching down, slowly and precisely, he captured the hair between his forefinger and thumb, holding it delicately as one does with a flower petal. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown, and he called out to Magnus, who was preening in the bathroom and applying his eyeliner.
“Magnus, why is there a grey hair in our bed?”
It certainly wasn't his – Lightwood men never went grey until their fifties, and Alec was still a few years from his thirties.
Magnus appeared in the door of the bathroom, and if Alec was less dazed he would have noticed how he blanched.
“I don't know darling,” Magnus said, eyeliner dripping onto the tiled floor from where he held the brush in his hand, “Maybe somebody was in here the last time we had a party.”
“But you always cast protection runes over our bedroom,” Alec said confusedly, dropping the hair to the carpet, almost talking to himself, “And the last party we had here was about four months ago.”
“Hair doesn't decay Alexander,” Magnus replied as he puckered his lips in front of his mirror, “It's probably one of the lycanthropes; you know how they shed.”
Alec nodded his head subconsciously, and when Magnus sauntered out of the bathroom three minutes later, Alec was given a reason to forget all about it.