A/N: I don't pretend to be original with the idea of a Wrong Number romance fic, but I have yet to come across a Malec chaptered fic that does the Wrong Number thing (and I have read a LOT of Malec fanfiction) so I figured I might as well write it myself.

Some notes about my experience with the Shadowhunter World: I never started watching the TV show because my parents exist (that'll change when I move out this fall, hopefully). I honestly pretend that TMI ended at City of Glass (because it SHOULD HAVE) even though I've read all six, and I also am not a fan of Cassandra Clare as a person so I never read any of her Shadowhunter stuff besides TMI and TID. That's why I'm writing this fic as a complete AU away from Shadowhunter land- my favorite thing about Shadowhunters is Malec, no contest. If any of the above makes you decide you don't wanna read anything written by me, fine. Just don't send me hate about it, and we can all get along great.

Disclaimer: I'm a senior in high school not cassie lol

Chapter 1: A Friend In Need

Magnus, Ragnor decided, really needed to learn about the five stages of grief.

Well, not so much learn about them. More like, Magnus really needed to go through the five stages of grief like the damn adult that he was, for God's sake. This was at least the third time he and Camille had called it quits, and probably the fifth time overall that he'd had a (semi-)serious relationship end, and every single time he reacted to it as badly as if he had never been through a breakup before. At age 24, it was getting ridiculous.

"Magnus," Ragnor said loudly, hoping his tone and face didn't betray how simultaneously embarrassed and murderous he felt, "please put your pants back on, give the bartender the liquor hose back, and get off the bar!"

Magnus, of course, either didn't hear him or didn't care. Ragnor's money was on the former, seeing as Magnus was surrounded by only slightly less drunk college students who were having the time of their lives watching Magnus's antics and eagerly cheering him on. Ragnor swore someday he would stop letting Magnus come to the NYU bars, but he supposed it was better than risking the possibility of running into any of Magnus's coworkers by going to a bar frequented by adults.

Magnus, for his part, looked surprisingly good for someone blackout drunk and grieving over a breakup. Ragnor really didn't want to know how his friend had gotten his skinny leather pants off without removing his black combat boots, but he had managed it somehow, and was busy alternating between dancing and straight up twerking for all he was worth in the black booty shorts he'd had on underneath his pants for some godforsaken reason. He'd ditched his orange jacket long ago as well- Ragnor had it slung over his left arm, although he had yet to locate the pants- and the silver mesh tank top he was wearing seemed to catch the light just right as he moved his body and swung the liquor hose that appeared to still be spraying beer. Ragnor briefly wondered why the bartender hadn't had the sense to turn off the damn beer tap already, but considering Magnus's current condition, he wouldn't be surprised if the bartender was simply too shocked to do anything but yell at Magnus to get down. This was an excessive performance, even for a college bar. Ragnor assumed shock was the only reason the cops hadn't shown up yet.

Sighing, he shouldered his way through the crowd surrounding Magnus, smartly sidestepping a girl who bent over to vomit and a boy who tried to grab at his ass. He knew he looked good, and there would have been a time, but it was 2:45 a.m. on a Tuesday. Ragnor had class in the morning, and Magnus had work. Finally, he made to the bar, wincing and holding up the orange jacket for shelter as beer splattered into his green-streaked silver hair.

"Magnus!" Ragnor reached out and grabbed at his friend's leg. "Magnus!" The young man in question looked down to examine what was obstructing his leg, and Ragnor breathed a sigh of relief at making some progress.

"Magnus! Magnus! Magnus!" the college students started chanting his name, and Magnus grinned and started swinging his hips far more energetically, breaking Ragnor's hold. The silver-haired man let out a long-suffering sigh. Fine. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Magnus, let me up with you!" Ragnor called out, plastering a grin on his face and hoping he sounded genuinely enthusiastic. Magnus hated his friend trying to calm him down, but he loved it whenever he thought he'd finally convinced Ragnor to loosen up and have some fun.

Magnus whooped loudly, moving over and reaching down to help pull Ragnor up. He had a surprising amount of coordination for someone so indisputably drunk. The crowd cheered as Ragnor took up a position next to his friend, and Magnus immediately began grinding on him. Ragnor grit his teeth and went along with it, swinging the orange jacket over his head, much to the delight of the crowd. He broke away from Magnus and grabbed the hose from his hand, replacing it with the jacket. Ignoring the man's happy cry of "My jacket!", Ragnor aimed the hose at the cheering crowd and blasted a clear path to the exit before throwing the hose at the hapless bartender. He hooked an arm around Magnus's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Ever been crowd-surfing, Mags?"

Magnus's eyes widened. "Ooh, let's!" he squealed delightedly. "It'll be so much fun!"

Ragnor had different ideas, considering how drunk the crowd was, but it was the only way to get Magnus off the bar while keeping his mood up. He had a tendency to start crying whenever people tried to use force on him while he was drunk, and Ragnor was not in the mood to deal with that.

"We'll jump on the count of three, okay? Hold onto your jacket!" Ragnor had no idea where the pants were, and he figured Magnus would throw a fit in the morning over the missing pants and the beer on his favorite orange jacket, but there was nothing to be done about it. "One . . . two . . . three!"

Magnus whooped and leapt into the crowd of NYU students with wild abandon, but thankfully they had the sense to catch him and the drunkenness to start passing him over their heads. Ragnor landed neatly on the ground on his own two feet, running along the path he'd cleared that was starting to be overtaken by drunk college kids again. A smart elbow here and there, and he was able to battle his way to the outskirts of the crowd in time to receive Magnus.

"Raggie, that was so much fun!" Magnus hiccuped, reverting to the nickname for Ragnor he only used when he was severely drunk or severely wanting to die.

"I know, I know," Ragnor rolled his eyes. "And now for the grand exit!"

"What's the grand exit?"

"Disappearing before the eyes of your fans!" Ragnor replied, pulling Magnus through the door and away from the chaos of the bar.

The chill of the September evening attacked them almost immediately. Fortunately, Magnus was still too drunk to start bitching about the cold or Camille. Unfortunately, that meant Ragnor was instead subject to listening to him ramble about the fun he'd just had. Ragnor kept an arm wrapped around his friend's waist to keep him upright and helped him stagger along, praying Magnus would keep it together long enough for them to get into an Uber back to Brooklyn. He really needed to stop letting Magnus come out to Manhattan to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

Abruptly, Magnus stopped babbling and held still. Ragnor bit his tongue to keep from swearing at the pause in their progress. "What's wrong?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as pissed off as he felt.

Magnus was staring straight ahead at a blonde woman wearing a red coat and black heels, her back turned to them. It wasn't Camille- Ragnor would have rather incinerated on the spot than deal with the mess that was Magnus seeing Camille less than 24 hours after she dumped him- but the color scheme and posture of the woman was enough to create a resemblance from afar, and to a drunk Magnus the resemblance was even more striking.

"Camille…" he whimpered, tears rapidly welling up.

"Magnus, listen to me," Ragnor gripped his friend by the shoulders and turned him so they were face-to-face. "I know you don't want to hear this now, but Camille was a bitch. I guarantee you can and will find someone ten times hotter and sweeter than her any time you feel like it. You have to understand that."

Camille had been a huge part of Magnus's life since college, toying with him for a full three years and breaking off their "relationship" twice before tonight. Ragnor prayed this break would be the one that stuck, and Magnus could finally lock her out of his life and find someone better.

"Could I find someone right now?" Magnus asked, sniffling and peering at the blonde walking away. He was clearly looking to make Camille jealous and win her back. That was what had happened the past two times they'd broken up. It was an unhealthy strategy, but Ragnor knew there was no point in trying to talk Magnus out of it while he was drunk.

Instead, Ragnor looked the young man up and down, taking in the orange jacket and booty shorts again. "Sure you could. . ." he trailed off. Magnus' bottom lip began to tremble, and Ragnor quickly rectified his mistake. "Tell you what, we'll start by getting you someone's number tonight. Tomorrow, we'll get on Tinder and find you an actual date if you don't like whoever you meet now. Sound good?"

Magnus nodded.

"All right! What are you looking for tonight?" Ragnor slung an arm around his friend's shoulder, trying to breath through his mouth to avoid the stench coming off him.

"I want a guy." Magnus said almost instantly.

Damn it. A girl would have been easier to chat up, but Camille always got jealous of guys with Magnus more than girls. "Can do. Anything else?"

Magnus thought for a moment. "I like blue eyes," he said reflectively, "but I don't think there's anything else."

"We can work with that!" Trying to keep his enthusiasm up, Ragnor swept his gaze along the street. "Here, let's hit one last bar and get a number."

"Okay," Magnus brightened up a little. "Watch me turn on the charm, Raggie."

'The charm' turned out to be Magnus talking to one handsome twenty-something with black hair and startling blue eyes for about thirty seconds before promptly puking on his shoes and passing out. Ragnor apologized profusely, but thankfully the man didn't seem to be too upset once he got past the initial disgust.

"Don't worry about it," he waved off Ragnor's offer to pay to replace his shoes, although his nose was still wrinkled. He had a lilting British accent, and combined with those eyes, it was no wonder Magnus had gone straight for him. "We've all had to deal with a friend on one of those nights."

"Usually, this idiot is the friend on one of those nights, so he would know," Another accented voice piped up from behind Ragnor, and he turned around to see an Asian boy with silver hair and a slender face looking quite irritated. "I leave for two minutes, and you end up with vomit on your new shoes?"

"Calm down, we were just having some fun." The blue-eyed stranger gave his friend a half-smile. "Get him home safe, he'll thank you eventually." He said to Ragnor, gesturing at Magnus passed out with his head on the bar.

"Not for a few months," the Asian grumbled. He glanced at Magnus. "Need some help with him?"

Ragnor shook his head, already pulling out his phone and summoning an Uber. "I've got him, thanks. I've had to do this enough times. Can I ask you for a favor, though?" He looked up at the blue-eyed man.

"Sure. Doesn't mean I'll do you a favor," he responded smartly, ignoring the Asian's swat at his shoulder.

"Can you give him a phone number? Not yours if you don't want to." he added hastily, noting the raised eyebrow he got in response, "A friend of yours, maybe. I just need to be able to give him a phone number to text tomorrow. He's getting over a breakup and trying to get back in the game," Ragnor explained.

The blue-eyed Brit and the silver-haired Asian looked at each other, seemingly silently arguing about something. Eventually, the silver-haired one rolled his eyes and looked away, and the blue-eyed one grinned at Ragnor. "I can't give you mine, although Magnus seems delightful," he said apologetically, "but I've got a number that'll do the trick for you." He grabbed a napkin from the bar, took a pen out of his coat pocket, and pulled up something on his phone, presumably the number he scribbled on the napkin. He folded it over and handed it to Ragnor. "If he texts that, he should have some fun," he promised with a secretive smile.

"All right," Ragnor glanced unsurely at the seemingly more sensible Asian, who just cocked an eyebrow at him. "Thank you." His phone buzzed, indicating the Uber was waiting outside. Slipping the napkin in his pocket, he grabbed Magnus and wrapped an arm around him to keep him upright.

"Good luck," one of the strangers called as Ragnor left. He raised his hand in acknowledgement before stumbling out of the bar and into the Uber with a sigh of relief.

A/N: Phew! Chapter One, done! I know nothing about bars or New York City or bars in New York City, so excuse any glaring errors. I'm not sure where I'll go with the next chapter- I'm assuming I'll continue on with Magnus' POV for a bit before introducing the other half of the ship.

If you know me from The Alphabet of Solangelo, you already know this, but I'm not amazing with updates. The first three chapters of this fic will be up relatively consistently- after that, it's anybody's guess as to when I'll feel like writing. This is an actual chaptered fic instead of just a series of one-shots like the Alphabet of Solangelo, so hopefully that'll prompt me to write more consistently since I'll forget the plot if I don't write. I don't like abandoning fics, so I promise that is the very last possibility of what'll happen to this story!

Reviews definitely motivate me to write. I can't describe the feeling of getting feedback and attention on your work- you know it if you're a writer. General comments and (constructive) criticism are more than welcome, as are any questions or invitations to chat if that's what you like. On to Chapter 2!

~ Bobbi