Chapter Text
Alec Lightwood leaned back in his chair with a sigh and looked accusingly down at the clock in the corner of his computer screen.
The little numbers swam in and out of focus, blurring in front of his tired eyes, causing him to squint to try and see them clearly. Once he finally was able to focus on them, he wished that he hadn’t. It was four o’clock in the morning which meant he hadn’t made any more progress on the chapter he had been working on in approximately five hours. Five hours of editing, re-writing and then editing again, and it had barely made a difference. He knew he should have been further on his novel by now, much further, but no new ideas had been coming to him for what had felt like months. Alec had fallen deep into a writing slump, stuck on the same chapter over and over again.
He shut his eyes; the tiny black letters, a stark contrast to the white page he had been staring at, were imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. The words danced in front of him, taunting and teasing as they flashed by, too quick for him to grab onto. Frustrated, he opened his eyes again, unable to escape the confines of his writer's block for even a second.
After only a moment of contemplation, he closed the lid of his laptop and got up from the computer chair, stretching his arms over his head. Alec groaned appreciatively at the stretch, his back and shoulders finally unknotting themselves after being locked in the same position for hours on end. Isabelle had repeatedly told him to take more breaks, even get into yoga to help ease his pain, but Alec always brushed his sister off claiming he was fine.
It was times like this where he admitted to himself that she may have been right.
He looked down at the closed laptop again, and then to his empty blue coffee cup sitting beside it. He really should continue writing. He couldn’t afford breaks right now, with how far behind he was. After all, his deadline wasn’t going to meet itself and it seemed to be looming closer and closer by the week. He could always make another pot of coffee, work for a few more hours to try and push out the rest of this chapter before he met with his editor later that day. But the logical part of his sleep-muddled brain told him that even if he were to write something new, it probably wouldn’t be that good anyway at this time of night (morning?). He would deal with the wrath of his editor when he woke up.
Alec discarded the empty coffee cup in the sink before he padded sleepily across the floor of his apartment, towards his bedroom. Not even bothering to change out of his clothes, he fell face first on top of the covers and dropped into a deep, blissful sleep.
*
Magnus Bane was late. Well, late may have been an understatement. He was very, very incredibly late. Like, should have been at work about an ago for his important meeting but was very much not, kind of late.
Yet there he stood, in line at his favourite coffee shop waiting to place his order. He was supposed to be meeting his boss at eight o’clock to discuss marketing strategies for the show they had been planning for the past few months. Well, the show Magnus had been planning for the past few months and she had been overseeing. It wasn’t his first show, but it was going to be by far, more important than the all of the others. It was a show he had been planning since he was a child, drawing sketches in his books and cutting pieces of fabric from his mother’s old blouses. It was the first show where he would showcase his work in a global event … one of the biggest fashion events in the world, to be exact; New York Fashion Week.
Except due to an unfortunate series of events that had occurred that morning, it was nine o’clock and he was waiting to order his coffee instead of dazzling his boss with his designs in his morning meeting.
Magnus had set his alarm early, giving himself plenty of time knowing it would take him at least an hour and a half to get himself ready and out the door. But alas, when he woke up it was an hour past the time he had set his alarm for and his cat, Chairman Meow, was sitting on the nightstand staring at him, judging eyes pointedly fixed on his half-sleeping form. He had dashed out of bed and right into the shower, not bothering with his usual ritualistic shower routine in favor of quickly running soap and conditioner through his hair. Skipping his routine was not something that happened often and was not a good way to start any day. Especially an important day, like today.
From there it had been a mad rush of clothing, makeup and hair gel, Magnus running around his apartment trying to get himself ready on time. Church, his other cat, had joined The Chairman who was now on the bed, giving Magnus the same judging stare. The two of them watched him run around the apartment like a maniac, their matching patronizing expressions mocking him the whole way through. Maybe Magnus was going crazy and starting to imagine things. Maybe his cats were trying to plot a way to take him out, and achieve world domination. Or maybe, Magnus just needed to stop thinking and get out the door on time.
Nonetheless, he had glared at them both before grabbing his bag and rushing out the door.
The Uber he had called for was waiting for him outside his front door, the driver waiting patiently behind the wheel, tapping his fingers along to a song on the radio. Usually Magnus took public transit to work, but if he wanted to make it even close to the time the meeting was supposed to start, the Uber would have to do. The driver dropped him off a block from his building, morning traffic preventing him from getting any closer. He had run out, carefully navigating the throng of people on the busy sidewalk, weaving in and out of students and commuters alike. He almost made it to the front doors of his office building, and looking back, knew he would have been on time if he hadn’t stopped. Well, closer to the time he usually came into the office, which was about half an hour after he should have been there.
But the scent of his favourite coffee shop had hit him like a wave as he had run by its open doors, a beautiful, sweet smelling wave that was impossible to ignore. Magnus usually timed his morning so that he could stop in and grab a coffee before work and then came back again in the afternoon most days for his lunch break, but obviously his morning that hadn’t gone according to plan. The coffee shop was one of those trendy, hipster places that was right downtown Manhattan, and usually wasn’t too busy because it was across the road from a Starbucks. The one day it was busy however, was today.
Magnus craned his neck and rose up onto his toes to try and see the front of the line. Two people ahead of him, and one at the cash. The guy ordering at the front seemed to be taking an unreasonably long time deciding if he wanted a biscotti or a croissant with his chai tea. Magnus rolled his eyes, dropping back down onto his heels. He didn’t even glance at his watch to check how dastardly late he was. He’d be in trouble either way, so why stress about the inevitable before it happened?
Biding his time, he glanced around the coffee shop. Though he worked with new people all the time, Magnus had never lost his interest in people-watching. It was something he and his adoptive sister, Clary, had done ever since they were young. On family vacations, waiting rooms or whenever they went to the city, they made a game out of watching the people around them, creating a story about what their lives were like. Clary had always been the one to write fairytales for people, where Magnus had made up funny stories to hear her laugh. He even used to play a game with his childhood friend Raphael when they got older, watching their classmates in the hall and seeing who could create the most ridiculous story.
The thought of Raphael sent a sharp pang through his chest, a pain he still hadn’t become accustomed to.
Distracting himself, he glanced once again around the small café. All of the tables were full, which was unusual for a Monday morning. Many of the tables were filled with young people, high school students picking up a coffee before their morning classes, or university students with their laptops open, stress and sleep deprivation written all over their features. A few tables were occupied by families: a mother and her two sons, a couple with their newborn, and what appeared to be a mother and daughter laughing together with mugs in their hands, enjoying the warm October morning. Magnus smiled, taking joy in the happiness that swirled around him. That was another thing he loved about this coffee shop, there never seemed to be a shortage of happiness.
He was just about to turn back to the line – the man had chosen a biscotti and was now paying – when his eyes settled on a table in the back of the café.
Sitting at the table was a boy – no, a man – who encompassed the description tall, dark and handsome. He was sitting alone with his head bent over a novel, empty cups of coffee scattered on the table in front of him. He was scanning the book in his hand intently, his incredible hazel eyes sharply focused on the page in front of him. He had dark hair that was just long enough that it fell into his eyes, which caused him to run his fingers back through it every so often, giving it a definitive sexy, pushed back look. He looked tired, if the dark bruises under his eyes and multiple coffee cups that littered on his table were anything to go by, but it did nothing to dim the striking beauty of him. Since he was sitting, Magnus could only assume that he was tall, but dark and handsome certainly fit him regardless. Magnus knew he was staring, but couldn’t drag his eyes away from the gorgeous stranger.
He was rudely interrupted of his intense fixation on the beautiful stranger when the barista called him to attention as it was his turn next to order. The barista was a short girl with puffy hair and a name tag that read ‘Maia’. Magnus hadn’t seen her here before, so he assumed she must have just gotten hired. She smiled warmly at him and asked him what he would like this morning, and he immediately forgot that he was supposed to be mad at her. He ordered coffee (black) and a blueberry muffin to go, at the last minute adding a caramel macchiato for his boss. Better to be safe than sorry. His eyes darted back to the handsome stranger but he could no longer see him through the crowd of people in the shop. Slightly disappointed, Magnus took his food and hurried out of the shop to his meeting.
*
Alec watched nervously as Simon read through his latest work. They were sitting in Alec’s spacious living room, Simon sitting on the couch across from him. Alec lived in a nice apartment in Manhattan. It was modest, especially considering the amount he made each year, but it was all that he needed. He did have a few, more expensive pieces scattered around the apartment that he was pretty proud of: a bow and arrow set that he had purchased on a whim a few years back, a painting that Isabelle had guilted him into buying that was much too pricey for the simplicity of it but had somehow grown on him, and a very large television. Alec had more money than he knew what to do with, but buying a very fancy television was a must.
He looked back to Simon, who was still skimming through the words on the screen of the laptop. Alec got up, walked around the living room, grabbed a glass of water, and sat back down. Still, Simon remained in the same position. Alec knew he was fidgeting, but Simon must have been used to it by now because he didn’t even look up when Alec got up off the couch and started pacing the room. Every once in a while, Simon’s expression would change as he read a certain passage, or would glance up and ask Alec a question, but for the most part he silently read the words on the screen in front of him. The only sound that filled Alec’s small apartment was the odd click of the computer keys and his own nervous breathing.
He knew he shouldn’t really be nervous; it was Simon after all, and even when he thought what Alec had written was shit - which did happen more often than he liked to admit - he was never rude about it.
Simon and Alec had met in their first year of university, both of them studying creative literature. They had become fast friends, bonding over their shared love of authors like Oscar Wilde and Alice Munroe, and fiction novels. Simon was big into mysteries, and Alec romance. They spent hours poring over book after book, geeking out with each other. Not long after they met, Alec had started writing professionally and Simon, pursuing a career in editing, was always there to read his work and offer suggestions. They roomed together throughout all three years of their program, and developed a well working professional relationship as well as a personal one. Simon was the only other person, besides his own family, that he felt he could fully trust.
Now, seven years later, nothing had changed – Simon was still the first and last person to read Alec’s work before it went to publishing, except now Alec paid him for it. He had become sort of a manager to Alec over the years, taking the lead and heading meetings with publishers and big-name book stores. He made sure Alec’s novels got into the right hands to be properly distributed and marketed as Alec wasn’t able to do it himself.
Simon was also the one he called when he was having writer's block and needed help getting passed sections of his writing that he had been stuck on. For months.
Simon looked up from the computer and closed the lid, signaling he was finished reading. Alec stopped pacing and faced his friend expectantly. “Well … it’s not that bad.” Simon started. Alec groaned, dropping his head into his hands and flopping back onto the couch behind him. “No! I’m serious! There’s some things we need to fix, but it’s really not terrible.” Simon moved to place the laptop on the counter, turning his full attention to Alec.
“Not terrible isn’t really how I want my books to be described, Si. What you’re trying to tell me is that it’s not good enough and I need to start over. We both know you’re too nice to say that to my face.” Alec joked, forcing a small laugh out. He was, of course upset by Simon’s reaction but some small part of him knew he was going to react that way. What Alec had been writing lately was nowhere near his usual standard. He was surprised Simon even liked it at all.
Before that point, he had never had any issues when it came to writing, mainly because everything he wrote had spawned directly from his own experiences. When he first started, he could hardly type as fast as the words were coming out of him, often jotting things down on napkins and the back of his hand during the day so he wouldn’t forget them. Those had been the days when he would stay up into the wee hours of the night, finishing a full novel in a few weeks’ time. But more recently he had been experiencing a blockage when it came to coming up with new ideas. He wasn’t sure why that was, and he had even less of an idea on how to fix it.
Simon looked across the couch at him, serious look on his face, which was odd for Simon who was usually never serious. “Look man, I know you’re tired. Six books in seven years is a huge accomplishment but incredibly taxing, especially for someone as young as you are. We just have to get this one out and then you can take a nice, long break. Maybe go travelling for a while and get a fresh start.”
Alec sighed. He knew Simon was right; they had been going nonstop ever since the massive reaction his first book, Shadows, had received when it was released all those years ago, when both of them were still so new to the world of professional writing. The demand for new content had been high and Alec had been eager to provide, pleased with the positive attention his writing was getting from people around the world. It had been a surreal experience to say the least. That’s not to say that he still didn’t enjoy writing. He did. Writing was a way for him to escape, to jump into a fictional world for hours at a time and make it his own. He supposed if he was being honest, it was a way of control, an area his own life often lacked. Lately though, it had been getting to be more demanding than rewarding. Staying up late, getting nothing done and waking up exhausted the next day to try and do it all over again.
Simon was still looking at him with an expression of concern. Alec knew what Simon was thinking and couldn’t stand the thought of his best friend pitying him, so he stood up and moved towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. “Alright. So, what should I be doing in the meantime? Keep trying to write? Scrap the whole thing? I need to get something new out there soon, at least in the next couple of months.” His editor got up off the couch and followed him to the kitchen, catching the water bottle Alec threw at him from the fridge.
“Why don’t you start by reading through some of your old stuff, see if you can get some inspiration from that. We’ve been following this character since he was a teenager, so it might help to go back to the beginning of his story, in order to progress it.” Simon hopped up onto the kitchen counter, pushing his round glasses up on his nose where they had slipped down.
It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Going back to his roots, as well as his characters’, could help him put perspective on how far they both had come. He could read the whole journey from the beginning, and hopefully in that, find the ending he had been searching for. He contemplated the idea for only a moment, before telling Simon that he would give it a try. Which is how he found himself sitting in the back of a coffee shop downtown that Isabelle always gushed about, Shadows in hand, trying in vain to see something in his protagonist Bobby that would inspire him to continue writing.
The coffee shop was busy that morning, probably because it was one of those hipster places right downtown, the tables around him filled with trendy teenagers and families. It was a cute little shop, and he reminded himself to thank Isabelle for the recommendation. Alec did his best to tune out his surroundings, throwing himself fully and completely into reading. He had never read his own work before after he had done his final edits, and so reading the actual hard, tangible copy was strange for him. Reading his own work wasn’t something he usually, or ever really, did and he found the experience almost like going back and reading a diary one had written when they were a teenager. Shadows had been written what seemed like so long ago in his life that it was almost like reading a diary.
He read through the entire first half of the book in a few hours, downing three cups of coffee in the process, with still no miraculous bursts of inspiration. He was frustrated and exhausted, and no closer to finding what he needed to finish this damn series. Groaning, Alec shut the book and pulled out his phone. He would take a short break, regroup and then dive back in with a clear head.
He had two missed messages from Simon asking him how the hunt for creativity was going and one each from his siblings, Jace and Isabelle. He sent Simon the middle finger emoji, followed by the eye-rolling one, then he clicked on the text from Isabelle.
Isabelle: Just saw the hottest guy at work! Should I give him your number? ;) xx
Alec rolled his eyes fondly before sending a definitive ‘no’ to her. His sister was always trying to set him up with someone new, worried he would become a “grouchy old man who only left his house to get groceries and feed the cat.” Alec assured her that he would become none of those things, one because he had enough money to have groceries delivered to his doorstep for the rest of his life and two, because he was not a cat person. Despite his best efforts though, she still tended to worry about him. He clicked on Jace’s message next.
Jace: Bro, want to come downtown with me tonight? I need a wing man.
He hadn’t been out of the house much lately and knew his siblings were both starting to catch on. They sent him more text messages than were strictly necessary, considering they both lived no further than a ten-minute walk from his own apartment, and often tended to show up announced during the day. Jace would drop by, sometimes with Izzy in tow, both of them begging him to come out with them and have some fun, or sometimes just to sit together and watch movies. Alec loved his siblings more than anything else and enjoyed their company, but knew that the only reason they were around his apartment so much these days was because they worried about him. He hated to make them worry, and hated even more that there was a reason for them to even spare a second thought about if he was okay or not.
It was that thought alone that pulsed through Alec’s mind as he read Jace’s message again, thinking about the guilt trip that was bound to come if he declined. He knew the logical part of his brain had won this one, and sent his brother a simple “sure.”
With that, he picked up his book and continued to read.
*
“You’re late.” Lydia Branwell didn’t even look up as Magnus strode into her office. She did look up however, when he placed the large coffee cup on her desk. He grinned at her, hoping to wipe the angry look from her face.
“Sorry, darling. You know how I feel about Mondays.”
She looked at him for a second longer, her eyes piercing, before she tentatively picked up the coffee. Opening the lid, she took a careful sip, paused and then fixed him with another look; this one was far more exasperated than angry. Magnus grinned again, this time in satisfaction. Lydia could never stay mad at him for long. He knew her far too well for that. “Well, sit down then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Magnus took a seat in front of her desk, pulling out the binder full of his designs. He had been slaving over this binder for the better part of a year, Lydia offering some assistance here and there as needed, but this was the first time she would see everything finished and in-full. Magnus already had a team working on creating some of the designs, so he hoped she wouldn’t have too many corrections.
Lydia and Magnus had been working together for so long now that it was hard for him to really think of her as a boss. Of course, he knew when it was time to get work done but in this industry, it was also important to know when to let loose and have a little fun. Lydia always seemed to understand him, giving him the creative freedom he needed on most of his projects, only having to rein him in a handful of times. And Magnus liked to believe he had made her proud, what with the success of his ever-growing line of clothing.
Magnus had been an intern in Lydia’s offices when he was still in grad school, fetching coffee and making copies of designs for months on end, until one day some of his original sketches had found their way to her desk (Magnus would defend till the day he died that he didn’t accidentally slip them in with her mail). He still remembered the day she first spoke to him with extreme clarity; he had been in the break room chatting with some of the other interns when she strode in, ever the picture of confidence and power in her slick pantsuit and tight ponytail. She had placed his work on the table in front of him and told him that she would hire him as soon as he graduated, and if he had any questions she had attached her business card to his designs. Magnus had had other offers from different companies, but none even close to as good as the one form Lydia Branwell at The Institute Fashion Industries. Since then, he and Lydia had worked together on countless projects, more recently Magnus’ own line of clothing. It had taken a while for him to get his footing in the fashion world, finding himself at the bottom of the food chain even with Lydia’s support and guidance.
Now though, five years after the launch of his own line, Magnus had not only successfully mounted the industrial ladder of the fashion industry but climbed it to the top, making his name known and heard along with efficacious companies like Burberry, Guess and Calvin Klein. His designs were being worn at award shows and red carpets, city streets and runways. He had achieved everything he had ever wanted.
Well, everything except for Fashion Week.
“So, as I’m sure you are well aware, they have requested you for Fashion Week which means you have the privilege of choosing when you want your show to be during the week. This is an important decision because –"
“Because it could make or break my career as a fashion designer. If I chose a bad spot, I could be overshadowed by companies that are bigger than myself but I can’t choose the best spot as I am unfortunately, not the biggest company out there. Yet.” Magnus finished for her, adding a wink for good measure. He and Lydia had had this conversation before, right after he had gotten the call requesting him to be a part of Fashion Week.
Lydia fixed him with a pointed look, but didn’t comment. “I think you should aim for the end of the week. A Thursday afternoon or evening might be best. You obviously can’t start or close the event, but you want to be close enough to the end that you will be remembered and won’t be overshadowed by those that come after you.” She glanced down at her tablet, scrolling for a minute before looking back up at him. “Thursday at five is still free. Sherri Hill is Thursday morning and I’ve heard that Dolce is trying for Thursday night, but I think you could beat them out. Of course it’s up to you to decide what you want to do, you don’t have to take all of my advice anymore.”
Magnus smiled at her, gesturing for the tablet which she handed over wordlessly. He looked down at the schedule before him, seeing that Lydia was once again right. He had a few options but Thursday evening seemed like the best time. Not a bad time, but not the best. “I’ll always take your advice, Lydia. I would be selling my clothes at Walmart without you.” Lydia sent him a small smile, which was more than she gave most people so Magnus counted it as a win.
They spent the next two hours poring over his sketchbook, making final touches on fabrics, dimensions and colours. Lydia was overall pleased with what he had come up with, she even told him how impressive his work had gotten over the past few years, and only made a few minor changes. Nothing that would derail the seamstresses that were already working on bringing his sketches to life.
Once they had finished, he bid Lydia farewell with a promise to send her updates once he talked to the seamstresses later this afternoon, giving her an updated timeline as to when everything would be finished. Magnus stepped out onto the street, the warm October afternoon sunlight warming his skin. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, which left him just in black dress pants and a dark blue, paisley-printed button up shirt. Because of his late start this morning he hadn’t had time to grab his necklaces but had remembered to grab a few of his favourite rings, which adorned his fingers colorfully.
His favourite coffee shop was considerably less busy than it had been this morning and when Magnus walked through the doors, he noticed many of the families and youngsters were gone, leaving just a few regulars sitting quietly, enjoying their lunch breaks. The new barista from that morning, Maia, was still behind the counter and smiled at him as he approached. “Hi! Welcome to Java Jones. What can I get for you?”
“Well hello darling. My name is Magnus, I thought I should introduce myself as you are obviously new here and have yet to learn the frequency in which I visit this coffee shop.” He said not unkindly, with a grin.
Maia regarded him for a second, unsure it seemed of how to react, before she slyly grinned back and responded, “Nice to meet you, Magnus. I’ll make sure to keep a lookout for you. What can I get you?” Magnus ordered another coffee, this time with a turkey avocado sandwich to go. His muffin from this morning just wasn’t cutting it. He moved to the side to wait for his order, entertaining himself with a game on his phone. He had only been playing for a few moments when all of a sudden, someone bumped into him from behind.
Magnus turned around, a snide remark on the tip of his tongue; it wasn’t often people accidentally bumped into him, for it wasn’t like he dressed inconspicuously. But that remark fell away as soon as he saw who had hit him.
Tall, Dark and Handsome from this morning was standing there, novel in hand, look of shock covering his gorgeously chiseled face. He was a head taller than Magnus, but appeared to be trying to make himself look invisible. His cheeks were already a pretty shade of pink and he seemed to be trying to find words to apologize.
*
“I- I’m so um, so sorry.” Alec stuttered out, mentally cursing himself for suddenly being unable to speak. Attractive men sometimes had that effect on him, but he hadn’t had much of an issue with it since he had been a teenager. He closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself. Willing the deep flush to leave his cheeks, he opened his eyes again and looked down at the man in front of him. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
The very beautiful man was barely a head shorter than him, which was something Alec wasn’t used to, almost always towering over everyone. He had jet black hair, that spiked up at odd angles around his face, but in a way that made it look elegant, and was streaked with blue dye that matched the colour of his shirt. His almond shaped eyes were dark, lined with kohl but held a spark in them that did something funny to Alec’s stomach. His mouth was turned up at the corners, which Alec realized too late was the result of the man noticing Alec blatantly checking him out. He flushed and looked away.
The man looked shocked for a moment before quickly composing himself and sent Alec a mischievous grin. “No harm done, darling. Though I would prefer that next time you hit me from behind, we don’t do it in the middle of a coffee shop.” He dropped a wink at the end of the innuendo that did nothing to help Alec’s composure. Attractive men that were witty and devastatingly beautiful were way out of Alec’s comfort zone, leaving his brain scrambling to pick up the pieces this man had shattered it into. He was left once again sputtering for something to say, cheeks blazing. This only made the man grin more, smirking proudly at Alec’s embarrassment.
He must have decided to take pity on Alec, for he gestured to the novel that the taller man was still holding. “At least tell me what you were reading that had you so distracted from your surroundings.” Alec looked down at the cover, unsullied and clean. He had grabbed it this morning after Simon left, out of the box where he kept all of the first editions of his novels, each book unopened and unread. After a full day of reading, he was no closer to inspiration than he was to becoming President of the United States.
This particular novel he held was his first, written when he was just 18 years old and published the year after. He remembered how proud he had been when it had come out, how he had nourished it and watched it grow like a child before releasing it into the world. The cover was plain white, with a splash of colour along the front, almost as if someone had taken the end of a rainbow and streaked it across an all-white sky. The most peculiar thing about the novel however, was the authors name written across the bottom; big bold black letters that jumped out starkly against the white background. Gideon Archer.
“Oh, it’s nothing good. Just a book…” Alec trailed off, trying to turn his wrist to hide the cover from the man. Alec wasn’t ashamed of his novels, far from it, but the thought of this stranger, this very, very attractive stranger, reading his words made his stomach twist nervously. Not that he would ever know that it was Alec’s work, of course, but the thought still lingered.
Alec was quick but the man was quicker, plucking the novel delicately out of Alec’s hand and flipping through the pages. His eyes opened wide. “Shadows? You read Gideon Archer books, too? My, my, just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter, you continue to surprise me.” The man mused, not looking at Alec instead skimming through the novel, eyes alight with excitement. “I love his work. Not to sound too much like a fanboy, but I’ve read everything he’s ever written.” The man smiled up at Alec, a warm smile that lit up his entire face and made his eyes crinkle in the corners, and held his hand out to shake. “My name is Magnus. Magnus Bane. And you are?”
Alec stood in stunned silence for a moment, he looked at Magnus’ hand then back to his face before sliding his own hand into the other man’s smaller one. “I’m Alec Lightwood.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “So um, you like Gideon Archer, huh?”
Magnus quirked a curious eyebrow in Alec’s direction. “Don’t you?” He held out the book as he did so, glancing at it pointedly.
Alec grabbed the book back with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m not much of a fan of him at the moment.” Magnus seemed about to respond when the petite barista behind the counter called out his name, holding a paper bag and a coffee cup. Smiling at her, he grabbed his food before turning back to Alec.
“Well Alexander, I would love to continue this conversation at the present except I have a whole room of ladies with sharp sewing needles who are not going to be too pleased with me if I keep them waiting any longer. Perhaps if you’re here tomorrow, around the same time, we could bump into each other again, and you could tell me your ridiculous dislike for Mr. Archer over a cup of coffee?” Magnus looked at Alec confidently, like he had no reservations whatsoever that Alec wouldn’t accept his offer. He was right.
“Tomorrow. Yeah, okay. I’ll be here.” Alec said, unable to stop the smile that crept onto his face. Magnus was already on his way out the store when Alec realized what Magnus had said. He called out after him, “My name is Alec!”
Magnus just waved over his shoulder, calling out “See you tomorrow, Alexander!”
He was so screwed.