Far-off, the sun set to gently blanket the hustle and bustle of New York City in its yellow-orange glow. The warm light filtered in through stained glass to illuminate the dark tiled floor of the quiet Institute only disturbed by the hushed voices and crying of two women. Magnus tried to stifle a sigh as he watched Jocelyn comfort Clary. It reminded him of days past when he was a kid simply worrying about getting home in time for dinner. His mother hugging him and keeping him warm and safe and loved.

How long ago that was.

A movement to his side alerted him to Alexander's leather-clad form shifting from foot-to-foot in agitation. It unsettled him to see the Shadowhunter so restless though he only had one second of pure worry before their last conversation crashed over him and a slight pang of hurt could be felt in his chest while the words "you watch the people you love age and die," echoed in his mind. It was too early for mortality to become an issue. He barely had a day of Alexander finally accepting his feelings when Camille came in the picture which really, begged the question of why Raphael allowed her loose.

Magnus glanced at Alexander once more. The boy was turned away from him now, looking at his sister as they had a quiet conversation; it seemed like they were arguing or simply talking tersely as Shadowhunters did. He sighed and figured he might as well take his leave less he disturbed the tearful family reunion on one side and the family rescue mission about to commence on the other. Quietly, he stepped backwards and kept on until he was in the midst of computers and far enough for the Shadowhunters to not notice him leaving.

He did feel a little bad for not greeting Jocelyn properly. After all, he had constantly seen her and Clary as they both aged. It wasn't something he took for granted as he made a habit of cutting ties with mortals before their inevitable deaths. With one last wistful look at Alexander, he departed the Institute and found himself hit straight in the face by the full blast of the late afternoon sun. He shifted uncomfortably in his long-sleeved brown shirt, adjusted his maroon scarf and swept his surroundings carefully before snapping his fingers for a portal.

One step later, his surroundings into a dark street. He looked up at the seemingly abandoned building of the Hotel Dumort and worked his jaw a bit as he took his phone out of his pocket to ring up his old friend.

Click.

"You asshole."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Stop being dramatic, Raphael."

"You gilipollas, you led the Nephilim to my home! Why would you help them release Camille? Camille, Magnus!"

It was uncharacteristic for Raphael to be so angry and Magnus immediately realised the Nephilim must have done something unsavoury to get Camille out of the Hotel Dumort. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to contain the anger and frustration bubbling inside him. "I did not. What did they do?" He swore under his breath. "I am outside the Dumort."

For a long while Raphael didn't answer and Magnus began to ponder on how he could force his old friend to talk to him as he knew how the grumpy vampire loved to leave him hanging but before he could truly begin, the other spoke once more.

"You swear you did not help them?"

"I gave them her location and I told them they can negotiate with you."

Click.

The little bastard.

Magnus pulled his phone away from his ear in annoyance. He shoved the device into his pocket and looked back at the doors of the Dumort just in time to see Raphael open it. The vampire gestured for him to enter and he did. In silence, they weaved through the rooms, past vampires and lounges until Raphael opened a black non-descript door and stepped aside for him. He entered the spacious room designated for the Head of the Clan and and spied the messy bed and a picture frame of his old friend's family on his way to the couch.

Raphael sat down beside him and turned to look at him with a conflicted expression of anger and guilt.

"Raphael," Magnus started. "You and I both know I wouldn't want Camille free."

Raphael sighed, his shoulders relaxing somewhat. "I know, amigo." He closed his eyes briefly. "Camille is out there. She is free because of those Nephilim. They broke her out. Dios! Those putas came barrelling into my home and insult my intelligence and preach their superiority with that Lightwood la perra damaging the walls to let sunlight in narrowly missing me and their precious Simon."

Magnus was aghast. "They did what?!"

"Never," Raphael glared. "Never help the Nephilim darken my doorstep again. I will not play nice. Accords be damned. And you, amigo, should know better than to help them. Camille is vindictive. If she hears of you and that boy, she will find a way to destroy you once more."

"They brought her to me." Magnus replied humourlessly. "Your advice is quite late."

"Dios mio. Are you okay?"

"Aw, I knew you cared."

Raphael scowled. "I'm being serious. Are you okay?"

Magnus shrugs. "She has driven a wedge between me and Alexander. She has shaken me. I am holding up but no, I am not fine. I was not prepared to see her and I don't think I ever will be. She makes my skin crawl and my hairs stand."

"What did she do?"

"Oh, you know, the usual fun affair of mortality and… And kissing me, of course."

Raphael made a noise. "You can stay here."

Surprised, Magnus contemplated the offer with wide eyes. Finally, he said, "why?"

"Do you really want to go back to your lair alone?" Raphael raised a hand to stop any protest. "You can protect yourself, I know. But that sick puta is out there and if she visits you… Can you really be the High Warlock of Brooklyn and not Magnus Bane?"

Magnus slouched and pouted, sinking into the couch and taking up a pillow to hug to his chest. "I am Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn." He replied petulantly.

"And with her, you are a lost and broken puppy."

Magnus lifted his head to just above the pillow he held, regarding Raphael's sincere concern and found himself conceding. "I'll stay."

Alec Lightwood felt a lot of things on a daily basis: anger, frustration, exasperation, conflict, worry, longing, sadness, loneliness and determination. There were a lot more but the one thing he didn't have much experience with was idiocy. He felt stupid.

He had been much too occupied with discussing possible strategies in order to get Jace back from Valentine while Clary was busy with her mother that he completely and utterly ignored Magnus Bane. It was when he finally, finally, turned around to scan the rest of the room after what could possibly have been an hour of bugging his sister and his sister looking distraught and trying to help, that he noticed the warlock's absence.

He tried not to kick himself and barely succeeded. Barely.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of the arrows made the constant beat he frequently got lost in in times of distress, his bow and arrow being his materials of solace. He acted on autopilot, his body and muscles so used to the motions that he had no need to think about it and instead was able to mull over Magnus. Mortality. He had never bothered about it even though he was logically aware of Magnus' somewhat age and immortality until Camille said it in such a way that it cracked him, pulling up insecurities from depths he hadn't dipped into yet.

"I'd say he's twenty years away from male-patterned baldness."

He was never vain. It never disturbed him that he was aging or that he would grow old and look nothing like the youth he was now. In fact, in some deep dark part of his mind, he figured he'd die before then so what was the matter? But it mattered now because he had a reason to live longer now and to keep youthful. Aging and dying soon would mean not having enough time with Magnus and they already had too little so far with some fault of his own. Not that there would ever be enough. Not really. What if Camille was right? That he would grow bald in twenty years. What was twenty years for an immortal, a warlock? What would he be as an old man to a youthful Mangus?

Alec shot his arrow harder than necessary and it made a loud thwack. The whole arrow thrummed with force as it embedded itself into the target wall. Magnus had looked extremely uncomfortable throughout the whole conversation but that was all he had registered as he had been too hung up on the kiss he had witnessed between the warlock and Camille. And, as was his default reaction to anything and everything that threw him off, he placed the problem and the people involved in the back burner and focused on the mission which was to find Clary. While it never worked as a problem-solver, it also never came back to bite him in the ass but it did now because it left him with no clue as to how Magnus actually felt about the whole aging thing. Surely, the warlock thought of it before pursuing him? Despite the allegations of the older Nephilim and that database, Magnus didn't seem to be one that didn't take things seriously.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Alec?"

Alec swivelled on the spot to face his sister. "Something wrong, Izzy?"

"Nothing." Isabelle grimaced. "Except for Jace… But why are you here, big brother?"

Bewildered, Alec raised his bow. "I'm practicing."

"Oh, no, I know. But why? Shouldn't you be with Magnus?"

He had no answer so he kept quiet.

"What's wrong?"

Alec shook his head.

"Listen, brother. This is what I've been trying to tell you. You don't tell me anything! And I tell you everything. Why can't you just trust me with your personal life? I would never judge you." Isabelle glared up at him, hands on her waist.

Alec sighed heavily once more. "It's… complicated."

"What could possibly be complicated, big brother? You have no engagement, no wedding, everyone knows you're gay, you kissed Magnus and so what, what's the problem?" Isabelle asked, almost exasperated.

"Let's, let's say we survive the war," Alec waved his hand around. "And I get old –,"

"I'll stop you right there, Alec." Isabelle shook her head. "Magnus has been alive for very long. You really think that if your mortality was a problem, he would have still run after you?"

"What if I'm just a passing fad, Izzy? I risked my life kissing him and what if he just leaves me? What about me?" Alec set his bow and quiver down. "It's not too late for me to save face."

"No." Izzy's voice rang sharp and clear and strong. "Have you stopped to think that Magnus risked his life when he appeared at your wedding? The Clave was there, Alec! He could have been arrested and sentenced to death for whatever reason."

Alec swallowed. "I… I don't know how I'll take it if I grow old and he doesn't."

"Oh, big brother…" Izzy placed her delicate hand on his broad shoulder. "Then you should be talking to Magnus not me."

"I – I have. He just said that he didn't know the future."

"And he doesn't. But I doubt you actually shared the real problem with him so he can't assuage your fears." Izzy smiled a small smile.

Alec bit his lip and chewed on it, thinking.

"Talk to him, big bro."

"...alright."

Izzy beamed and then pulled him over to the door, using all her strength to push him out of the training room.

"What are you doing, Iz?"

"Get out and go get your man!"

Alec felt a rush of blood flooding his face and he looked around wildly for anyone that could have heard her. "Izzy!"

It was a cold night and the breeze seemed to be stronger this side of New York. Alec wouldn't admit he was cold but he was. He pressed the doorbell to Magnus' loft for the second time and then a third time, getting increasingly irritated. When another minute passed without any answer, he huffed and took out his phone to call the warlock, thankful that Magnus had called him previously so he had the number saved in his log.

The ringing sounded once, twice then, with an audible click, it connected. "Alexander?"

Alec smiled a little. It was odd, really, how pleasant it felt for the warlock to use his full name when he hated it. "Magnus, I'm outside your loft."

A beat. "Oh, Alexander. I'm not there. Was there something you needed?"

Alec's smile fell a bit. "Are you busy? I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"No, not at all. What is it?"

"I – I just… Just wanted to talk."

Magnus chuckled and it came out more gravelly than Alec was used to. "Have you eaten dinner?"

"Um…" Alec shifted in his spot, rubbing his arms slightly. "No, not yet."

"Delightful! Meet me at the corner of 141st and Amsterdam Avenue."

Alec's smile widened. "Okay," He said, sounding fairly giddier than he would have liked.

Getting there was a breeze, taxis where the epitome of convenience even if it meant he had to take off his glamour but he was eating at a restaurant anyway so he'd have to take it off in the end. Magnus was there when he stepped out of the cab, wearing the same clothes as the warlock did earlier in the day which made Alec rather happy because the clothes hugged Magnus' upper frame in a way none of the other clothes the warlock wore previously did.

"Alexander, I do hope I made the right choice with the restaurant." Magnus greeted with a smile.

Alec nodded dumbly. "I'm… I'm good with anything."

"I'm sure you are." Magnus closed his eyes briefly.

Alec eyed the warlock's hand as it reached out to touch the back of his and he cautiously reached out to link their fingers together. The action made Magnus beam at him and he smiled back before letting himself be led through a red plastic-looking door to the inside of a glass-designed bar and restaurant. They ended up sitting in a cosy booth near the bar and left alone with menus to brew in silence as Magnus stared and he awkwardly shifted in his seat. When heat started to creep up to his cheeks, he squirmed one last time then met the warlock's gaze. "What?"

Magnus merely smirked softly. "Have you chosen your order, Alexander?"

"I… um," Alec frantically browsed through the menu again, nothing registering except for the heated gaze still aimed at him. He nearly jumped when the other's hand touched his and hastily looked up. "Yes?"

"I'll order for us both then if you don't mind."

Alec nodded.

"Do you really eat anything?"

Alec nodded again.

"Alright." There was bit of a laugh behind the word and Alec's stomach fluttered.

Magnus called on a waiter's attention and started firing off orders, only glancing at Alec for a very brief calculating gaze before finishing up with the waiter. As soon as the man left, the warlock's attention was back on Alec. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Ah… The… Mortality thing." Alec explained lamely. He almost regretted mentioning it when Magnus' face fell momentarily.

"I see." Magnus murmured. "Well, Alexander, I'm not sure what to tell you."

Alec leaned forward. "I just… I…" He swallowed. "What will happen when I become old?" He whispered.

"What will happen?" Magnus frowned.

Alec gestured between them in a sloppy manner, grimacing at the awkwardness he felt.

Immediately, Magnus' face cleared. "I have no doubt I will stay with you, Alexander, if you allow me to."

"I'm not…" Alec looked away, eyes landing on the hand Magnus was still apparently touching. It grounded him a bit. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

The waiter came back and set a pink gradient-looking tall drink by Magnus and a wide bowl on a long stem with gold liquid on Alec's side.

Alec lifted the drink off the table and took a careful sip. It tasted sweet and rather herbal. It was good.

"Good." Magnus smiled briefly before turning serious once more. "How you feel about... us being together for that long?"

Alec snapped his head to face the other once more. "What? No. I mean, me – I – How – When I'm old and you – You're… Well, you know."

"If it bothers you that much, Alexander," Magnus' tongue darted out to wet plump pink lips. "There is… a glamour I can use to make it look like I'm aging with you. If that's what you want."

Alec's lips parted in surprise. "You would do that?"

"Alexander," Magnus gripped his hand more tightly. "If it means that you'll not worry, I have no problems doing it."

Alec felt his lips perking up at the corners without his conscious decision and he opened his mouth once more to tell Magnus - something, anything - but the waiter arrived and started placing down plate after plate after plate while he smiled dopily instead.

"So, Alexander, shall we move on to dating now? Or do you have more concerns?" Magnus peered at him with a serious look.

Alec appreciated it. "Not right now."

"Great!" Magnus beamed. "Now, let me introduce you to our wonderful dinner for the night."

Surprisingly, though everything looked fancier than was reasonable – even the burger which had grass-fed lamb apparently – the whole affair was still more down-to-earth than Alec pegged the warlock to be. And he had mentioned it in passing, unable to keep silent, and Magnus had coyly reminded him not to judge a book by its cover especially since – "I'm full of surprises, Alexander." They had laughed then which became a wonderful recurring thing for the rest of the evening.

When it got to be rather late, Magnus paid for the bill swiftly, taking no arguments, and they linked hands once more. New York passed by like a blur as they walked in comfortable companionship and Alec felt light in ways he never did before until they reached the Institute and he turned to Magnus with a disgruntled and accusing look. He couldn't hide the quirk of his lips, though, when the warlock just laughed and explained the cliché of walking him home even if he wasn't a damsel which was all kinds of endearing.

The night ended with a sweet kiss, one that Alec initiated, It was everything that they had at the non-wedding and everything that it wasn't. It was passionate and consuming and mind-numbing yet also so sweet and aching and full of longing. When they parted for air, Magnus landed one last chaste kiss and touched his cheek before letting him know that what they did was yet another cliché. And while Alec didn't care about mundane practices, he would do a lot more if it meant that Magnus would smile at him with glittering eyes every time.