A/N- After reading Saving Raphael Santiago I wanted to write fic where a young Alec meets a young Magnus, and finally got around to it. There aren't any spoilers for The Bane Chronicles, for anyone who hasn't read them.

one step back

"Magnus, what'cha doing?"

The thin shoulder under his hand jerks away from his touch, and the equally thin boy the shoulder is attached to all but crab walks away from him. Hurt at such a resounding rejection, Alec slowly lowers his hand and pouts instead.

"I just asked you a question," he mumbles, half to himself. When Magnus doesn't budge from his spot, curled up in the deepest, cushiest part of the couch he'd been kneeling in front of, Alec decides to move on to greener pastures. Maybe Clary will want to draw something for him again. Or if Jace is around, he could teach him some new moves!

Thoroughly excited by his thoughts, Alec thunders through the strange apartment he'd found himself, a strange warlock boy he's never met and –apparently—his babysitters in a few days ago. It's big compared to the few apartments in New York he's seen before, but tiny compared to his own house, so it doesn't take long at all before he's rushing into the kitchen, barely stopping himself from wiping out on the sleek wood of the floor. Jace must have been cleaning again.

At the sound of his entrance –he isn't very good at sneaking yet, but he's sure he'll be great at it one day, like his dad— Clary looks up from the paper in front of her. Her bright red hair is messy, falling out of the bun she'd pulled in into earlier. When she looks at him, it is a lot like the expression his mother wears after a day of thorough playing in the park: equal parts fond and harassed.

"Hey, Alec," she greets him. Her grin is strange, like she can't decide if she finds him funny or not. Alec thinks it's rude, but she's been really nice to him otherwise, so he doesn't call her out on it. "I thought you were going to play with Magnus."

The reminder puts a damper on his good mood, and he kicks the floor again. "He doesn't want to play with me," Alec says, crossing his arms. "He never does."

Clary bites her lip. "I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it, sweetie."

"Yes, he does," Alec argues, glaring up at her. He hates when adults think he's too stupid to put the pieces together. Why else would Magnus treat him like he caught cooties and shy away from him? "Magnus hates me."

"Magnus doesn't hate you!" Clary objects. She pushes out her chair and pats her knee expectantly. Reluctantly, Alec clampers onto her lap with a sigh. "Really, Alec. He doesn't."

"Then why does he keep avoiding me?" Alec asks her, picking at a hole in his jeans he accidentally made yesterday when he tripped outside. "He doesn't even let me touch him, and whenever I stay in the same room as him for more than a minute he leaves! Does he think he's better than me 'cuz he's a warlock?"

"No," Clary says with startling force. Alec doesn't think he's ever heard her so stern before. "It's not like that either, Alec. He's just afraid."

"He's scared?" Alec asks, more than a little perplexed. "Why would he be scared of me? I just want to be his friend."

For a few minutes, Clary doesn't say anything. The only things breaking the silence are the click-click of her nails against the tabletop, and the sound of Magnus, back to mumbling with his head pushed up against the couch cushion (which is weird and doesn't look fun or comfortable, but Alec figures it must be a warlock thing and usually leaves him to it).

Alec is considering hopping down to see if he can find Jace before she finally answers him. "Magnus...came from a very different place than you, Alec, and he doesn't have the type of family that you do, either. Different things can be very scary."

"They aren't scary to me," he objects.

"Then maybe you should help him to be less scared," Clary suggests, ruffling his hair with a teasing smile.

"Stoooop," he whines, pushing out of her hold. He tries and fails to fix his hair, glaring at her through his bangs. "I'm going to go and hang out with Magnus. He doesn't talk to me or anything, but at least he doesn't do that."

"Have fun," Clary singsongs, already going back to staring blankly at her sketchpad, pencil at the ready. She looks like she's poised to draw but can't quite decide what lines to make first. It's weird.

Alec, full of new found determination to help Magnus conquer his fears, walks back into what he privately thinks of as the everything room, because it's got all sorts of shelves and decorations everywhere, and is stuffed full of pillows and couches and tables. As he goes, he tries to concentrate on whatever Magnus is repeating to himself. What if he's saying mean things about Alec? Or worse, trying to curse him? Alec's mom and dad have told him that warlocks can do that.

Magnus's back tenses at the sound of Alec's footsteps, and Alec's heart sinks with disappointment. Why is Magnus so afraid of him? He can't be that scary, can he?

Putting his disappointment behind him, Alec observes Magnus carefully. He reminds him a little of Church after someone's made a really loud noise, except without the fur or claws to scratch you with if you get to close after. He's agitatedly grasping at the edges of the couch, and kneeling on the floor. Like usual, his face is pressed into the cushions, muting the sound of his voice. Alec can just make out the rune Clary had put on him that let him speak and understand English, peaking out underneath the too-long sleeve on his right arm. Alec guesses he does look pretty scared.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Alec tells him, edging forward slowly instead of rushing it like he did last time. Maybe he needs to coax him like his mom does Church. He's got eyes like a cat, so maybe his personality is sort of like one, too.

Magnus doesn't say anything, and every part of him remains drawn in. Even through his shirt, Alec can make out the sharp wings of his shoulder blades sticking out against his back. He's really, really skinny.

"You…you don't hate me, do you?" Alec asks.

For the first time ever, Magnus does something different. Slowly, he shakes his head back and forth. He's still got his head in the couch, and he's still talking to himself, but it's something.

"Really?" Alec exclaims. Excited by his success, he decides to press his advantage. "You seemed like you did, since you don't ever let me touch you and all, so I'm glad that you don't. I don't like it when people hate me."

To Alec's continued surprise, Magnus mumbles something. Something vaguely different than his other mumbles, that Alec thinks might have even been meant for him.

"What?"

Magnus pulls his face away from the couch slowly, and looks at him through squinted eyes, almost like he wants to make them as hard to see as possible. It's sad, because they look really, really cool. They even match the eyes of the cat with the funny name Alec sometimes sees roaming the apartment.

"Hate is a sin," Magnus repeats, his grip on the couch tightening. "Pa says that I can't afford to sin more than I already do."

Alec blinks. He hadn't been expecting that. "You don't seem bad to me, and sinners are bad. So, you can't be one."

"I am!" Magnus lets go of the couch to cling to himself instead. He hugs himself like he's never been hugged before in his whole life and never learned how much pressure to apply, arms squeezing so tightly Alec is sure it must hurt.

"Why are you so sure?"

"I'm a demon," Magnus croaks out, voice breaking around a small, panicked sob.

If Magnus wasn't on the verge of full on tears, Alec would have laughed. "No you aren't."

"I am," Magnus repeats miserably, sinking down to the floor like a sandcastle crumbling against the wash of the tide. He presses his face into his knees and huddles inward, hiding his face. Alec understands. He doesn't like letting people see him cry either. "Pa tells me all the time."

"Well, they're wrong," Alec tells him. "I'm a Shadowhunter, and it's our job to hunt demons. I'm too little to fight them yet, but I learn all about them. I know what demons look like. You aren't a demon."

"If I'm not a demon, what am I?" Magnus asks, peering at him through wet, shining eyes that reflect the light in the room. His pupils are contracted into thin slits, emphasizing just how much yellow he has in his irises. Before he met a warlock, Alec privately thought he would be frightened by their devil's mark. Magnus's is really pretty, though, and not scary at all. Cats aren't scary, and their eyes are really cool.

"You're a warlock," Alec tells him, sidling a little closer to join Magnus on the floor, careful to keep space between them. He's not surprised that Magnus didn't know. Not many mundanes know about Downworlders.

"What's that?"

"They're magic users," Alec says, deciding it would be best not to tell Magnus they're part-demon. "When you get older, you'll be able to cast spells and stuff."

To Alec's concern, Magnus lets out another sob. "I'm still bad, then. Magic is bad. It's the devil's work. Only evil people can use magic!"

"Magic isn't evil," Alec protests, scooching closer instinctively. He wants to hug Magnus like he would Izzy if she were crying, and he sort of wants to kick this Pa person in the shin for leading Magnus to such bad conclusions about himself. "Magic is awesome! It can summon things and make barriers to protect stuff, and even heal people. My parents hire warlocks to help them all the time."

"Do you think that I could heal people some day?" Magnus asks around sniffles, picking at his nails and avoiding eye contact habitually. "Maybe if I can help people, I can show Pa that I'm not bad."

"I'm sure you will," Alec assures him, even though he has no idea how warlocks learn to use magic, or if only certain warlocks can use certain types of spells. Very carefully, he moves to place a reassuring hand on Magnus's shoulder, keeping it steady when he begins to tense.

"You shouldn't touch me," Magnus tells him.

"Do you not like it?" Alec asks, frightened that in trying to be nice he'd inadvertently offended him somehow.

"No, it's not that," Magnus says. His body is still rigid, little tremors shaking through him in waves. "It's just… No one does. Ever. I don't think people are supposed to. Not even my mom does."

Not even his mom? The suggestion alone sends sadness and anger flooding through him. Everyone should be held by their mothers. He can't even image a world where he couldn't run up to his mom and hug her goodbye, or before he goes to bed or after he's woken her up because of a nightmare. It's not fair of his mom to take that away from Magnus. It's just not.

"Well, I don't care what people think," Alec says determinedly. "Well, except you, since you're the one I'm touching. Do you mind?"

"Well, no, I guess not," Magnus says slowly. He's finally beginning to unwind himself, legs on the ground and shoulders drooping down, away from his ears.

"Can I hug you?" Alec asks. Normally he wouldn't bother, but Magnus is new to this, and he doesn't want to scare him off again. Not after he's come so far in befriending him. The thought of having a playmate his own age is too great a concept to mess up by being rash. "I think you need one. I always get one when I've been crying."

Magnus averts his gaze again, but he nods, hesitant and unsure.

Alec wraps Magnus in a careful hug. The other boy sucks in a harsh breath as he puts his arms around him, pressing his face into the crook of Alec's neck and clinging to him like Izzy to the new play sword she got for Christmas. He's all angles in Alec's arms, skin, bones and little else pressed against him, but he's warm too, and the puff his breath against Alec's neck in oddly reassuring. He feels tears soaking through his shirt, and the quiver of Magnus's back as he begins to cry again.

When they finally separate, Alec pretends to tie his shoes so Magnus can wipe his face dry without Alec seeing, and Alec pointedly changes to subject to lighter topics, like what sort of games they can play now that Magnus knows it's okay to have fun. After all, it's what friends do.