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malecsecretsanta · 3 years

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Merry Christmas, arialerendeair!

For @arialerendeair, I hope you like it; I tried to put as many of your favorite things!

Read On AO3

*****

Whose Eyes See All and Still Gazes in Earnest

The day Alec gets his first few gray hairs, Magnus sighs happily.

“Finally,” he grins, “I’ve always thought you’d look good a silver fox.”

Alec rolls his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as Magnus crawls onto his lap. “Didn’t know you had a thing for old men,” he quips.

“Three gray hairs do not make an old man, Alexander,” Magnus chuckles as he noses into Alec’s neck, “Take it from someone who’s actually an old man.”

Alec looks at Magnus, his gaze pointed. “You say that as if you didn’t go ballistic at the sight of one gray hair on your head.”

Magnus remembers when the memory gave him merciless pain. Nowadays, he lets himself chuckle at the thought. “Was admittedly not my best self that night.”

Alec’s palms press against Magnus’ side, comforting. “Understandably,” he murmurs, before asking, “Can you promise me one thing?”

Alec’s tone is suddenly serious as he looks imploringly into Magnus’ eyes. Magnus sits back onto Alec’s thighs, concerned. “Of course, darling. Anything.”

Alec grasps Magnus’ shoulders, forlorn. “If it comes down to it,” he draws in a staggering breath, “Magic my bald spot away.”

Magnus blinks, watching as Alec loses his cool and finally erupts into a side-splitting laugh. Alec throws his head back until it butts against the back of the couch, a palm pressed against the spot where his heart rests. The lines around his eyes crease beautifully, now a little bit more pronounced than before.

“You’re a little shit,” Magnus complains, and Alec takes Magnus’ face within his hands and presses a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Don’t let me end up looking like my dad,” he wheezes, “God, please don’t.”

Magnus ends up laughing too, kissing the lines around Alec’s eyes.

“Fine,” Magnus says, “Now fuck me before the kids get home. Or do you need help with your back too?”

A smirk grows on Alec’s mouth, the same mouth that swallows Magnus’ yell as Alec flips both of them onto the couch.

They have an hour before a portal from the academy materializes inside their living room.

*****

Magnus sighs, his brow scrunched in annoyance. He takes a big breath and yells up the flight of stairs, “Max Michael Lightwood-Bane, Raphael Santiago Lightwood-Bane!”

Magnus waits, fingers impatiently drumming against the wooden railing, as a muffled mess of a response echoes from behind closed doors. He hears one door being thrown open.

“Dad, I’m still trying to figure out this suit,” Rafe yells, “How are there three pieces?!”

Magnus calls out, “Max, help your brother!”

One room down, Magnus hears his other son snort.

“If he’s twenty-three years old and still doesn’t know how a suit works, that’s on him,” Max sneers, which earns him an irate suck my dick, asshole from his older brother. A loud scuffling ensues, and even without seeing it, Magnus knows they’re trying to punch at each other’s private parts.

Magnus sighs exasperatedly. These boys are in their early twenties, and they’re trying to ball-tap each other into submission. Magnus wonders if all this tomfoolery would have been circumvented by having girls instead.

“By Lucifer’s light, if you both don’t get down from there, I will lose it!” Magnus nearly bellows, and the threat successfully brings his two sons thundering down the stairs.

“We’re here,” Max pants, hands held out in placation, “Don’t get mad.”

“A little too late for that,” Magnus huffs in front of a mirror as he smoothens the creases on his jacket, staring down his reflection with a frown.

“We’re sorry, dad,” Max nearly pouts as he lays his head against Magnus’ shoulder, “We were just messing around. It’s those childhood bedrooms, it brings us back, you know?”

Rafe presses his palms over Magnus’ shoulders. “I know you’re stressed,” he says, “It’s dad’s fiftieth, after all.”

Magnus sighs as he reaches back to ruffle both Max and Rafe’s hair. He pats the back of Max’s hand.

“I just want it to be perfect,” Magnus admits.

“It will be,” Rafe presses, “We planned this thing down to those little things of food that goes on trays.”

Max rolls his eyes – it’s called hors d'oeuvres stupid – looking like the spitting image of a younger Alec as he does. He definitely got his sass from his other father, Magnus affectionately thinks.

“Dad will love it,” Max assures, “I promise.”

Magnus smiles at his two boys, perfect in their formal clothes. Max has hidden away his warlock’s mark, and Rafe’s runes peek slightly from underneath his sleeves. Magnus remembers when they were just little children, running around the living room with their small feet padding against the wooden floor. Now, Magnus has to look up at them.

Magnus remembers mournfully telling Alec about being the shortest person in the family, who only chuckles in response as he plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek. Magnus realizes he misses his husband terribly already.

“We gotta move,” Rafe says as he scrolls through his phone, “Uncle Jace says he’s taking dad to the New York Institute soon.”

“Let me,” Max says, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You better not singe my hair,” Rafe warns.

Max retorts, “It’ll be a great improvement.”

“Boys,” Magnus says before they delve into yet another scuffle. It effectively silences them both.

Max goes through the motions of creating a portal. A golden, circular rift erupts in the middle of the living room, the air around it distorting the fabric of reality. With a careful step, Rafe speedily enters. Magnus follows with Max quick on his tail, and before they know it, the darkness winks away into the grand hall of the New York Institute.

*****

“Happy birthday, Consul Lightwood,” Alicante’s weapon’s master greets him as she passes by the open door of his office.

Alec peers over his reading glasses, smiling. “Thanks, Margo. Just Alec, remember?”

Margo turns a soft pink, chuckling. “Ah, yes. I always forget. I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Grab some cake on your way out,” Alec says, motioning towards the open box on the coffee table, “The students from the Academy sent it over.”

Margo’s brows rise in interest as she cautiously crosses the room and takes a peek into the box. Alec knows she has a sweet tooth.

“The students sent it?” she asks, “They must like you a lot. Most trainees are scared of their Consuls.”

“I do guest lectures on Nephilim-Down World Relations when I have the time,” Alec says as he scribbles something down on the document before him. He adds with a smile, “I give them archery pointers too.”

Margo ahhs, nodding with understanding. She picks up a paper plate and eyes the cake with interest.

“Take as much as you want,” Alec smirks to himself, “My husband’s on a warpath against processed sugar and will have a coronary if he sees me take all of this home.”

“Diabetes?” Margo asks with humor, as to which Alec laughs.

“Pre,” he points out.

“How is Magnus, by the way?” Margo asks.

The ease of Magnus’ name coming out of her mouth is a testament to his personability. Everybody likes Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Alicante. That and the fact that he has extended his services free of charge to Margo when he heard about her wish to transition. Alec and Magnus welcome Margo into their home every month for what Magnus calls ‘rebalancing appointments’.

“He’s alright,” Alec answers, “Meeting the whole family for dinner tonight. Rafe and Max portalled in this morning.”

Margo notes through a forkful of icing, “Must be something big.”

Alec chuckles, flipping to the next page of the document. “I have a feeling it might be bigger than what he lets on.”

“Well, good luck,” Margo grins as she slips out the door, “Hope you have a good birthday, Alec. And thanks for the cake.”

“Thanks and you’re welcome,” Alec says before reminding her, “Tomorrow, general assembly.”

“See you then,” Margo says before disappearing into the hallway.

Alec sighs, leaning back onto his chair that creaks under the shift of his weight. He takes his phone and opens the many birthday greetings that have trickled into his message box the past few hours, taking note to reply to all of them at the end of the day. He pulls up his conversation with Magnus and sees a reply from his last text.

Remember, 8 PM tonight. Love you :)

Alec can’t help but smile. He shoots a quick reply that consists of an I love you too that makes his heart flutter in his chest even to this day. He figures he should at least get to a bathroom and see if he needs to make himself more presentable after a twelve-hour workday.

Alec rises from his chair and maneuvers through a moderately busy hallway. He returns all the birthday greetings with a polite expression of gratitude until he slips into the private bathroom reserved only for him. The door closes with a click, and with that, he takes in his reflection in the mirror. He takes off his reading glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket.

“Happy fiftieth birthday, old man,” he says under his breath.

Alec takes stock of himself. He still stands tall even after fifty years of being alive. Despite the deep-seated aches in his muscles, his body can still withstand an interdimensional battle or two. His hair is more gray than black now, and every day, he discovers new lines on his face that weren’t there before. He doesn’t need to smile for his eye lines to show; it’s the most pronounced its ever been.

I like them, Magnus would always say with fondness, I used to have to wait until you smiled to see these lines. Now, you look like you’re happy all the time.

For a long time, Magnus’ immortality had long been the crack on the floor Alec chose to cover up instead of addressing. It was easy – so painfully easy – to forget the years of existence Magnus has in his back pocket when the only villainous things on the horizon were hell spawns and the madmen. Alec tended to forget that Magnus will be immortalized like this; smooth skin, shining eyes, for the rest of his life as Alec aged around him. But with Valentine gone and Edom in ruins, the battles Alec fought for the first few years of their marriage were the ones he was the most terrified of confronting.

Now, Alec believes he has grappled with the worst of it all. The fights he and Magnus used to have were agonizing; an exchange of caustic words that sometimes, despite their best efforts, were meant to maim. Hurting someone as steadfast as Alec Lightwood is a highly specialized skill, one only a few people truly possess. After all, it is the people who you love most who hurt you best.

Nowadays, a hard-fought acceptance is sheathed where helplessness used to be. At almost half-a-century old, Alec fights the fatalistic monster of his mortality differently.

He touches first. His fingers, aching at the joints, find Magnus’ sides like they always do. Magnus knowingly turns away from his work – potions, spells, politics – without a second thought, spinning easily on his heels, before gently culling Alec into his arms. Alec sinks into the crook of Magnus’ neck, breathing the scent of sage and castor oil deep into his lungs, a memory to keep.

There you are, Magnus would say, his mouth against Alec’s neck.

And like clockwork, Alec would say, there you are.

It doesn’t alleviate the ache, but it helps.

“Chop chop, old man,” Jace’s unmistakable voice calls, “We’re supposed to be meeting the family for your birthday dinner!”

The knock on the door wrenches Alec away from his thoughts, which is admittedly a welcome intrusion. With a thorough scrub of his hands under running water, Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you,” he calls back.

Jace teases from behind the door, “Still the first to hit fifty though. How does it feel to be decrepit?”

After drying his hands with a paper towel and a quick combing of his fingers through his hair, Alec emerges from the bathroom.

“I don’t know, how does it feel to have a bald spot?” Alec wonders with a smirk.

“Fucking rude,” Jace laughs as they both make their way through the hall, “Just because you have Magnus giving you magical hair plugs.”

“I’m married to a guy who will never age out of his hotness,” Alec says, “A full head of hair is non-negotiable. Also, this is all mine.”

“Bullshit,” Jace retorts, “You’re too old to lie about your looks, Alec.”

“I’m not lying,” Alec smirks, “Ask Magnus.”

“Sure, let me just ask the least biased guy in the world,” Jace scoffs before saying defensively, “Clary still finds me hot, I’ll have you know.”

Alec winces in disgust. “Did you really need to have me know?”

This earns Alec a kick on the shin, one that causes him to stumble. He snickers as he easily catches himself. They step out the ornate, arching door that opens into the courtyard where one of Alicante’s warlock mission specialists awaits.

“Anyway,” Jace says, his tone suddenly somber, “How are you feeling? This is a lot. With Magnus’ immortality and all.”

Alec doesn’t look at Jace as they cross the courtyard. Age has brought more than aching muscles and gray hair to their relationship. It has also gifted them with an openness that their younger selves were too stubborn to afford. Sometimes, Alec wonders what kinds of pain they would’ve been able to spare each other if they had learned to talk a lot sooner.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, instead, looking down momentarily at his hands. He sees the slight sag of skin there, as well as the softening callouses brought about by years of consul work.

“Be honest,” Jace says, and Alec feels his lips upturn into a small smile.

“I am,” Alec says gently, “I’ve thought about this. Tortured myself with it even, back when it all seemed too big to grasp.”

“And?” Jace prods.

“We’re happy,” Alec says, “That’s all that matters.”

“That simple, huh?” Jace says with wonder in his voice.

Alec shrugs. “We had to make it simple or else we’d lose our minds.”

“I miss being young,” Jace sighs as he follows suit, “Don’t you miss it?”

“I do miss waking up with my back not aching,” Alec admits.

They both settle to a stop. Alec nods politely at the warlock and a portal erupts before them, its edges tugging at the fabric of this dimension. Before stepping in, Jace places a sympathetic hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“There’s a stretch I do to loosen my back muscles,” Jace says, “It’s called sex. You’ve probably forgotten what that’s like.”

Jace looks immensely proud of himself.

“No,” Alec hums, “I got a pretty good reminder this morning.”

Jace’s deep laugh carries into the portal as they both step in. The last thing they hear from Alicante is the choking noise that comes out of the young warlock that closes the portal behind them.

Alec makes it a point to apologize to him the moment he gets back to Idris.

*****

Oh, darling, Magnus murmurs, fingers spreading oil over the swollen knuckles of Alec’s hands.

Winter always does this to Alec’s bones. The chill seeps in deeply. All those years spent gripping seraph blades and drawing bows have worn down the cartilage in Alec’s joints. The arthritis gets exceptionally bad first thing in the morning.

Alec watches as Magnus kneads the stiffness away, the pads of his thumb circling the meeting points of his brittle bones. There's magic in the oil that no angelic rune or mundane remedy could match. Magnus wakes up early in the morning to brew it, just so he can ease Alec’s body into the day. Every stiff spot, every stubborn knot – Magnus knows them all by heart now.

Sorry, Alec whispers.

Magnus wonders, whatever for?

I don’t know, Alec admits.

Magnus digs his thumbs across the palm of Alec’s hand, releasing the tension that grips the muscles and tendons.

I’m happiest like this, Magnus says simply, nothing more.

By the time Magnus finishes, he presses a kiss onto the back of Alec’s hand. Magnus rises from the bed, muttering something about portalling to Rome for a cappuccino. He waits for Alec to ease himself off the bed and onto his feet. He takes Alec’s hand as they pad out of the bedroom.

From then on, Alec tries his hardest not to apologize anymore.

*****

A chorus of happy birthday erupts the moment Alec sets foot onto the Grand Hall of the New York Institute.

Alec’s suspicion of the event, surprisingly, couldn’t dampen the grin that spreads over his face. Jace laughs beside him, palming his shoulder merrily. Izzy is the first to get to him with a tight hug that makes his bones ache. Unlike Alec and Jace, Izzy’s hair remains sleek-black and tied up in a ponytail. She is as young as the day she chose immortality.

“Happy birthday, Alec,” she says before looking up at him with a teasing grin, “You old fart.”

“Shut up,” Alec says fondly. He presses a kiss on her head because it’s hard not to when she looks so young. “Thank you. Where’s Simon?”

Izzy laughs. “Bathroom.”

“Typical,” Jace smirks.

“Alec!” Clary exclaims, taking Izzy’s place in his arms, “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Clary,” Alec smiles, “And how long were you in on this?”

“Too long,” Clary sighs, “I was in charge of the guest list.”

Alec looks around, surprised at the volume of friends and family within the spacious hall.

“Don’t worry,” Clary whispers knowingly, “I didn’t invite the Pearlhearts.”

Alec squeezes Clary’s shoulder in gratitude. “Good.”

Alec finally makes his way through the crowd. He smiles at his guests, shaking the hands of those he recognizes and embracing those who he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Maia, who is with Izzy and Simon, gives Alec a kiss on the cheek when he gets close enough. She apologizes for not being able to stay for long; alpha business, she says. Aline and Helen, who now oversees the entirety of the European Institutes as Idris delegates to Europe, have portalled in from Switzerland for the occasion. Lydia waves at Alec from where she and Catarina are chatting. Alec hasn’t seen them both in so long. Catarina spent years with Nursing Without Borders in typhoon-ravaged parts of South East Asia, while Lydia, who elected to leave Shadowhunter politics entirely, is now an educator in Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

It’s an overwhelming sight to see, but in a good way.

Inevitably, Alec’s gaze is caught by the soft tangle flowers that spread over the ceiling. Yellow blooms dangle over their heads, surrounded by lush foliage of leaves and dotted with twinkling lights. It speaks of Magnus’ meticulous design.

Alec walks along the sprawling, meticulously set table, his steps calm but quick. Everything thrums of Magnus’ intricate handiwork, from the table settings to the sprigs of rosemary and sage pinned onto the folded napkin. Like a treasure at the end of a rainbow, he finds his family at the table’s end. They wait for him patiently.

I love them, Alec thinks, just because.

“Small dinner?” Alec laughs as he corrals his two boys into his arms, “I raised liars!”

“It’s all dad’s idea! We did it under duress,” Max grins with a kiss to Alec’s cheek, “Happy birthday, dad.”

“Happy birthday, dad,” Rafe greets with a smile, his arm winding around Alec’s back.

“Thank you,” Alec murmurs, his palms brushing against his sons’ shoulders. They both slip out of his embrace as if in anticipation. They stand by Alec’s side, watching affectionately as Alec finally finds his husband’s gaze.

“Well?” Alec asks mirthfully. Magnus, looking as beautiful as ever, saunters towards Alec with a teasing smile on his lips. Alec’s hand rests onto Magnus’ hip as he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It’s your birthday, darling,” Magus grins, “I should be asking you that.”

Kiss him, someone from the back howls – no doubt Jace – and if there’s anything Jace can do with the utmost skill, it’s riling people up. Magnus and Alec’s spectators hoot and clap as if it’s the reception to their wedding and not a birthday. It’s Max and Rafe’s defeated sighs that make Alec want to sweep Magnus off his feet and into his arms for maximum carnage.

Alec rolls his eyes instead, visibly fighting a smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Magnus raises a brow. “So you won’t kiss your husband of more than twenty years?”

“Now, now, I didn’t say that,” Alec hums as he guides Magnus into his arms and grinning into a chaste kiss that they waste no time sharing. Magnus laughs as the crowd around them swells with applause, and finally, he wraps Alec into a comfortable embrace.

“Happy birthday, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Alec kisses the shoulder of Magnus’ jacket. “Thank you, Magnus,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

Magnus kisses his I love you too onto Alec’s cheek as he peels himself out of Alec’s arms.

“Dinner first, dancing later!” Magnus calls out, and with a graceful flick of the wrist, the table is magicked with fancy food from end to end.

As their guests happily settle into their seats, Alec whispers, “Dancing?”

“Don’t make excuses because I won’t take them,” Magnus says with a tone of finality.

Alec laughs. He’s learned a lot in the past twenty or so years.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Alec whispers.

Alec takes a flute of champagne from one of the servers and takes a sip. From the head of the table, he sees every person who has mattered to him in the entirety of his life.

“Darling,” Magnus says, tugging at his hand.

Alec smiles. “Coming.”

*****

Magnus laughs as he is swept off his feet and into Alec’s arms. He locks his legs around Alec’s torso, his ankles hooking against each other as Alec kisses a trail down his neck. Magnus is pressed against the wall of their foyer, gasping as Alec’s teeth sink softly into his skin.

It has been three minutes since Alec and Magnus closed the door behind their youngest who had just moved out.

Magnus grins as he lazily rolls his hips against Alec’s. “If I knew an empty nest turned you on this much,” he teases, “I would’ve kicked Max out a long time ago.”

“Liar,” Alec laughs, fumbling with the clasp of Magnus’ intricate vintage belt, “You would’ve kept at least one of them here five more years if you had it your way.”

“I’m a softie, Alexander,” Magnus whines. His head butts back onto the wall as Alec outlines Magnus’ cock through his underwear. “Fuck.. Let me down, darling..”

Alec lets Magnus dismount, and with one snap of Magnus’ fingers, he is naked under Alec’s touch. Alec sighs blissfully as he takes Magnus’ lips back against his, tongue licking into Magnus’ mouth, fingernails scratching lines over smooth skin. Magnus doesn’t magic away Alec’s clothes; he has always found satisfaction in peeling every layer with his own hands. It’s a pleasure he indulges in no matter how strung tight they both are.

Alec kneels, ignoring the ache it brings as his knees kiss the wooden floor. Instead, he loses himself in pressing his mouth and lapping his tongue over every inch of skin he meets on his way down. Magnus’ body, untouched by time, undulates under Alec’s hands. Alec pins Magnus’ hips against the wall, a silent command that brings a haze of pleasure over Magnus’ eyes. Alec springs Magnus’ cock from his underwear, lips gently dragging over the sensitive nerve endings at the head.

“Alexander,” Magnus nearly pleads, his fingers threading through Alec’s salt-and-pepper hair.

“Patience,” Alec murmurs, to which Magnus huffs no. Alec chuckles, barely kissing the crown of Magnus’ cock in admonishment.

“If you don’t fuck me now –” Magnus’ threat crumbles on the tip of his tongue as Alec sinks down onto his cock with no preamble. His words escape him in a full-body shudder.

“Alexander, fuck,” Magnus gasps, watching as Alec languidly drags the warmth of his mouth back onto the head of Magnus’ cock before engulfing it again down to the hilt. Magnus clips a leg over Alec’s shoulder, drawing him even closer.

The fixture above their heads casts a brightness over their fucking like a spotlight onto a painting. Magnus’ moans hang in the air as Alec sucks him off with a skill that came to fruition after years of repetition. Every crest Magnus hits with every brush of Alec’s lips and every stroke of Alec’s tongue is its own masterpiece to behold. Just as Magnus knows every arthritic swell on Alec’s bones, Alec knows all the ways Magnus’ body likes to be praised. Alec kisses Magnus’ shaft and gently presses a thumb against Magnus’ hole. By the time Alec has palmed Magnus’ tightened sac, Magnus is already fucking into his mouth uncontrollably.

“Yes, darling, just like that,” Magnus whispers, urgently rutting into the wet heat of Alec’s mouth, “Look at you.. Just as beautiful as the day I first saw you..”

Surprising wetness lines Alec’s eyes, growing heavily at the corners.

Magnus’ breath hitches, his muscles clenching and unclenching as his orgasm builds with turbulence that makes the rhythm of his fucking falter. “I could find you in a crowded room, Alexander,” he says, “I could find you even if you were a dot in the universe.”

Alec palms his own cock as he blinks away tears that cling onto his lashes. He could feel the pads of Magnus’ fingers pressed against his scalp as if his nerves have taken hold of the sensation and refuse to let go.

“I’m gonna come,” Magnus gasps. Alec nods, his other hand gripping the firm muscle of Magnus’ ass.

Magnus hits his crest with Alec’s name on his tongue. He curls over Alec with Alec’s head cradled within his arms, a near recreation of the golden embrace of a Gustav Klimt. Magnus breathes deeply, pressing his lips against Alec’s hair as Alec releases Magnus’ spent cock. Alec swallows the spunk that sits on his tongue, and it tastes like the Magnus he knows and loves.

Magnus tips Alec’s chin to meet his gaze. He asks softly, “Have I made you cry?”

Alec sniffs, joking, “What’s new?” He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean to,” Magnus murmurs, “I love you.”

Alec kisses Magnus; deeply, longingly. He rises to his feet. “I know,” he says when he pulls away, “Of course I know.”

“Let’s go to the bed,” Magnus says cheekily, “Your turn.”

Alec shakes his head, pressing his palm against Magnus’ jaw. “I didn’t take my pill,” he murmurs, “I think that’s it for me tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Magnus leans into Alec’s touch, “No apologies, remember?”

Magnus walks backward towards their bedroom, pulling Alec by the hand. Alec lets himself be led into the bedroom and out of his remaining clothes.

“Besides,” Magnus winks, “You know I love a challenge.”

Alec rolls his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he wanted to.

*****

“Dad can’t be hot,” Max protests, “He’s dad.”

Magnus laughs, limbs all loose, his head tossed back. Alec snorts as he takes the martini glass from Magnus’ hand before the contents find themselves all over Magnus’ trousers. The family sits in a loose circle at the end of the table; Jace, Clary, Simon, and Izzy had all pulled their chairs closer fifteen minutes ago. The rest of their guests have elected to fill the dancefloor.

“Your father wasn’t always the silver fox that he is now,” Magnus says, “You were too young to remember. Rafe does though, right?”

Rafe nods. “Dad’s right,” he says, hands up in the air in defeat, “Dad was pretty good looking.”

Alec raises a brow at his eldest. “Excuse me? Was?”

“Gross Rafe,” Max exclaims, “Take it back! I don’t want that idea in my brain!”

“Look, I’m not one to compliment the guy,” Jace says, “But Alec was a total looker. Not as much as I was, but a close second.”

Clary giggles into her drink, mumbling under her breath. It sounded something along the lines of pretty boy, to which Jace gives her a snickering shh. Izzy, however, has already caught it with her ridiculously acute hearing.

“Oh my god,” Izzy says, “Pretty boy.”

Magnus laughs again, eyes scrunched close as he leans his head against the bulk of Alec’s shoulder. Alec grins into Magnus’ martini as he takes a sip.

“What’s pretty boy?” Rafe asks.

Izzy bounces on her seat with excitement.

“Easy,” Simon laughs, but Izzy still delves into the story with the same high-level gusto.

“The first time your dads met, we were in the middle of some kind of mission.”

“Unsanctioned, by the way,” Alec points out, which causes the circle to boo him mercilessly. He snickers, taking another sip from Magnus’ drink.

“There was so much flirting,” Izzy groans, fingers pressed into her temples, “An insane amount.”

“Ugh, what’s new?” Max asks, which earns him a pinch in the side from Magnus.

“Kids, this is how your dad,” Izzy looks pointedly at Magnus and then at Alec, “Reeled in your dad.”

Everybody else watches in anticipation, grinning from ear to ear while Magnus and Alec curl into each other comfortably.

“We needed to summon a memory demon that night. So your dad goes,” Izzy then says in her best impersonation of Magnus, “Pretty boy, get your team ready.”

Magnus looks impressed.

Izzy continues. “And your Uncle Jace, because he thinks the entire world wants to sleep with him, goes I know what to do, like an idiot.”

Clary giggles even louder, hiding her eyes behind her hand. Jace, pink in the face at the memory, cringes. He receives a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Simon.

“But then your dad rolls his eyes, holds out his hand, and says, I’m not talking you,” Izzy continues, her own arm barricading Simon by the chest, who affectionately squeezes her wrist. Grinning, she gracefully points a finger towards Alec’s direction, the perfect imitation of Magnus’ gesture.

“I’m talking to you.”

The circle howls, bursting into applause as if they just sealed yet another rift from yet another circle of hell. Magnus collapses against Alec, completely bereft of air as laughter consumes him from head to toe. Alec snickers, hand smoothing the fabric of Magnus’ jacket.

“I still hate that I wasn’t there for that,” Simon sighs.

“God, dad’s got game,” Max says, appalled, “By the damn angel.”

“It’s only good if it actually worked,” Rafe corrects, turning to Izzy, “Aunt Iz, what happened next?”

Izzy melts, pressing her hands to her heart. “Oh, Rafe. Your dad had the biggest, softest smile. I hadn’t seen him smile like that, ever.”

She turns to Magnus and Alec, eyes glassy. “It’s the smile of someone who finally felt seen.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth quirks upwards. Magnus burrows deeper into the crook of Alec’s neck, a reminiscent smile curling the edges of his lips. Magnus touches his temple with two fingers, and with a flash of magic, he plucks a memory from his mind.

He presents it to Alec.

“You looked beautiful, love,” Magnus says, threading his fingers against Alec’s. “So beautiful.”

Alec smudges something invisible on the surface of the photograph. He sees his younger self look up at him as if to ask, why are you so happy?

Just you wait, Alec thinks, you haven’t seen nothing yet.

Rafe and Max take the photo, looking at it with absolute wonder. Izzy’s hand finds her trembling mouth, and Clary holds Izzy’s hand soothingly. Magnus presses a kiss onto Alec’s lips.

“Love you,” Magnus says.

Fondly, Alec answers, “Love you too.”

*****

Alec, with his head thrown back in mid-laugh, is watching Magnus spin Izzy on the dancefloor when someone offers him a well-manicured hand.

“Care to dance, Consul Lightwood?”

Alec abruptly looks up, mildly surprised, until he realizes who he’s talking to. He rolls his eyes, ones that dance with mirth at the sight of an old friend.

Alec smirks. “Told you not to call me that, Professor Branwell.”

“Touché,” Lydia laughs. She motions her outstretched hand towards Alec again. “Well? Are you going to keep a lady waiting?”

“You don’t get to dip me, Branwell,” Alec jokes as he rises to his feet.

Lydia snorts. “Don’t worry, Lightwood,” she says, “I know you’re too old to bend your spine more than forty-five degrees.”

“Speaking from experience, I see,” Alec quips, which rewards him a teasing elbow in the side.

Alec moves them deeper into the dancefloor in a little a maneuver he learned from many nights in small, dimly-lit Cuban salsa clubs with Magnus and Izzy. Lydia is impressed as she steps into Alec’s arms with easy grace. With Alec’s hand on Lydia’s waist and hers on his shoulder, they sway to the music’s languid tempo.

“I heard you can add ‘professor’ to your long list of achievements,” Lydia teases, “Alicante’s Shadowhunter trainees just can’t seem to stop gushing over you.”

Alec schools the grin on his mouth. “Are they, now?”

“Oh, please,” Lydia accuses with a laugh, “You so like it!”

Alec chuckles, “It’s just a couple of guest lectures.” He leans in, whispering, “Admittedly, it is a bit of an ego boost.”

“Oh, it’s absolute confidence fuel,” Lydia agrees. She smiles up at Alec, looking at him like she can’t believe how much time has passed since their last meeting.

“How are you?” she asks, and coming from her, it’s a loaded question.

Alec and Lydia know each other in such a distinct, irreplicable manner, one that stems from their commonalities as people and their shared experiences. It’s a special understanding that even Magnus can’t duplicate, and that understanding steadily grew into friendship. Alec and Magnus were even guests at Lydia’s wedding to her recently late husband.

“I’m okay, Lyds. You?” Alec asks gently, “It’s been way too long.”

Lydia presses her lips together in a small, sad smile. “It has been,” she says, “I needed some time to be alone for a while. Far away.”

Alec’s hand squeezes comfortingly against Lydia’s. “Did you find some peace?”

“Found some in the English countryside,” Lydia chuckles, “Farm animals are oddly therapeutic.”

“That’s where you’ve been?” Alec asks in disbelief, “By the angel, I was asking them to check as far as Jaipur!”

Lydia laughs fully now. “You didn’t have to keep tabs on me, you loon.”

“Of course I had to,” Alec mumbles, “How can I not?”

Lydia places a hand to her heart, grinning. “Well, I’m touched. To think that this friendship started from our aborted wedding – who would’ve thought?”

The memory makes Alec cringe. “Oh, god,” he begs, “Please don’t remind me.”

Lydia giggles, “What, that you left me at the altar to make out with the love of your life?”

Alec groans. “Enough.”

“Not quite the right tone,” Lydia teases, “Less whiney, more commanding. Like you’re about to stick it to your parents.”

“You’re impossible,” Alec complains, and Lydia throws her head back in laughter. Magnus catches Alec’s eyes from across the dancefloor, exquisitely amused, and Alec rolls his eyes in fond resignation.

Lydia settles down to a grin. “Do you ever wonder where we would all be if Magnus didn’t storm into that chapel that night?”

The mere notion makes Alec think. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“By the angel, Alec,” Lydia says in disbelief, “Would you have actually married me?”

Alec raises a brow at her. “Would you?”

Lydia presses her lips together. “I don’t know. It all made sense in our heads back then. It seemed like a plausible idea.” She shakes her head. “That’s terrifying. To know that even the most rational thing could still be wrong.”

Alec smiles, his gaze mildly cautious. “Is that why you left politics for education?”

Lydia angles her head in thought. “That, and more.”

Alec doesn’t know what these other reasons are. Knowing Lydia, if she hasn’t told him yet, she never will.

His expertise of Lydia as a person came to him late. It took three years into his and Magnus’ marriage for her to be reintegrated back into their lives. The day Lydia handed in her resignation from her Council position to pursue a career in education was the day she became a steady fixture in his life. Alec regrets letting an exorbitant amount of time pass before they became friends.

“Was there something I could’ve done that would’ve made you stay?” Alec asks.

Lydia gazes at Alec as if she knows exactly what he means to ask. Did I not do enough as Consul? As a friend?

“Oh, Alec,” she says softly, “I would’ve left either way. Despite all the great work you've done and still do.”

Alec exhales. “It’s hard to feel that way nowadays,” he mutters, “Not with the Pearlhearts and their constituents blocking my every movement.”

“Screw the Pearlhearts,” Lydia says bluntly, and Alec laughs. “Do you even remember the things you’ve done the past fifteen years as Consul?”

Alec doesn’t. Everything has been a blur.

“Then let me remind you that you were handed a Shadow World that was burning when you took the office,” Lydia says, “Iterations of The Circle persisting everywhere you look, mutinies from the Europen vampire clans, power plays from the new Seelie Queen. You put out all these fires within three years of your leadership because unlike every other Consul that came before you, you were the first to have the Downworld’s trust. Trust that you built not as an afterthought, but as the cornerstone of your consulship. Your cabinet was used as the blueprint for fostering transparency between Institutes and the Downworld all over the world.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” Alec says, “I was only one piece on that intricate chessboard.”

“And the changes you instituted after?” Lydia asks, “You restructured the entire government system to focus on service, not control. You reformed the council to integrate Downworld representatives, and most importantly, you dismantled The Gard and its ancient doctrines that center on maximum brutality. ”

Alec shakes his head. “I had a lot of help, Lyds.”

“Still,” Lydia insists, “Someone had to start. Someone actually had to care enough to ask for help in the first place.”

Alec has forgotten how good of a speaker Lydia is. He would mourn the loss of such a great political comrade if he isn't so busy celebrating the achievement of having such an amazing educator within the walls of Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

Lydia is somber when she speaks again. “The Clave will never outlive the evils of its past. But this work, from the big battles to the small, from the demons we slay to the signatures on report documents.. it’s change. Small, tedious, continuous change.” Lydia presses a warm hand against Alec’s cheek, just like she did at the altar when she gave him her blessing to go. “The one thing I do regret about leaving Clave politics is not being by your side as you changed it for the better.”

Alec smiles into Lydia’s palm. “Thank you, Lyds.”

“Anytime,” Lydia says, “I met Henry because of you, did you know?”

Alec raises a brow, curious. “Me?”

“By opening Idris to the Down World,” she says, a reminiscent smile on her lips, “He was on his way to applying to be a werewolf mission specialist when I bumped into him on my way back from handing in my resignation. Whatever amount of time we had with each other – our walks through Brocelind, our dates by Lake Lynn, our wedding in Alicante.. we owe it to you.”

“I’m glad that I helped,” Alec says.

Lydia looks up at Alec, her head shaking in wonder. “Where did you get the will to do all that, Alec?” she asks, “Who were you changing the whole world for?”

From afar, Alec hears an unmistakable laugh, one he knows the sound of as it echoes from across the room or rumbling sleepily against the shell of his ear.

Alec smiles.

*****

“Blue, no flying! Mijito, don’t you run away with your brother!”

Alec laughs as he watches Magnus run across the grass in pursuit of their two boys. Max, in his bat form, flaps away with his older brother giggling behind him in a chase that would have ended a long time ago if Magnus simply magicked on a pair of sneakers.

I don’t do active-wear, Alexander, Magnus had scoffed with an offended look on his face, Not in public.

So, Alec sits back on the picnic blanket, legs kicked out. He contentedly digests his afternoon snack under the same tree that he sat under as a child when he wants a moment to himself. The green hills that overlook the entirety of Alicante sprawl before him, the view only made better by his family running across it.

The memories that accompany this spot weren’t always happy.

He hated himself under this tree. He asked all the divinities in the universe if who he is – how he is – is wrong. He climbed onto the branches, clinging onto it for hours; he punished his muscles and tendons for the missed shots and longing thoughts. He remembers the many cliff-edges he’s had to talk himself off of because no one else would.

He remembers wondering for how long he could do this for.

From afar, Magnus throws his hands in the air in surrender. Max flaps circles around his head in jest while Rafe jogs circles around Magnus’ feet.

Magnus, with a great, heavy sigh, snaps his fingers. Sparkly runners replace his fancy dress shoes, and Alec finally tips over in unabashed laughter. Magnus notices this, and in an act of pure vengeance, sics their children onto Alec. Alec realizes the velocity of their approach too late.

Alec groans, clutching his stomach as Rafe tumbles into him, all sharp elbows. Max flaps his wings across Alec’s forehead, displacing his hair all over.

“I deserved that,” Alec breathes out as Magnus topples onto the spot beside him.

Magnus smirks. “Yes, you do.” He collapses onto the blanket, exhausted. “Your turn, darling. I’m going to nap.”

Alec laughs. “Fine.” He turns to their children. “Who wants to do cartwheels?”

Max plops onto Alec’s lap with a shrill meee, accompanied by Rafe’s monstrous shout. Alec scoops both in his arms and runs, leaving shrieks of happiness in their wake. Magnus’ laugh carries beautifully from where he is sprawled under Alec’s tree.

Another sad tree memory dispels in Alec’s mind.

*****

Alec opens presents.

Jace and Clary gift Alec with a quiver of special arrows, a set of ten crafted by the Iron Sisters themselves. Vessels within the arrowheads were made to hold Magnus’ magic within its core. It is common knowledge that every single weapon in the Consul’s personal arsenal is imbued with electric blues and golden yellows. Like urban legend, it is whispered among throngs of young Shadowhunters that seeing the Lightwood-Banes in battle is like watching a roiling thunderstorm – it’s a kind of devastation from which you cannot look away.

Izzy and Simon’s gift is a rare tome they tracked down in a small European town called Arnis. It dates back to the years of the first community Shadowhunters that took root in New York, and how it ended up in rural Germany, nobody truly knows. Alec leafs through some pages and already found references to their early ancestors. My, my, Adette, Magnus murmurs, his chin propped against Alec’s shoulder. Alec hums in agreement; Adette Lightwood’s a looker.

The remaining presents sit on a hill on Alec’s left, and he is left to apologize to his guests. He promises to open them all at home, joking that the New York Institute probably needs their space back. He is presented with one last gift to open, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take in his hands.

“Here, dad,” Rafe says, handing Alec a small envelope.

Max offers a disclaimer. “This is last minute,” he says, “We were gonna give you something dumb.”

Alec hooks a finger into the envelope and rips it open. Within it, he pulls out two photographs. Alec looks at both of them with wonder.

One is slightly hazy. It bears the image of a man looking down at the camera, and even with the blurriness of it, Alec could see the smile spreads across his face. The other photograph, clearer than the first, unmistakably bears Alec’s likeness. It looks like a picture taken from behind a wooden cart of some kind as if the photographer was peeking from a hiding spot. Alec is squinting under the brightness of the sun, donned in battle-wear with an arrow drawn. He stands side-by-side with Lily Chen, the current head of the New York Vampire Clan.

Alec looks up in realization. “This is Buenos Aires. And this..”

Max shrugs. “Mine’s a bit faint, but I was a baby. Now you have all three of ours.”

Rafe smiles, reminiscing. “It’s our first memories of you, Dad.”

Magnus looks at Max. “When did you learn how to do this, Blue?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Max grins, “Figured it out from when you did it earlier.”

“You okay, dad?” Rafe asks.

Alec brushes his fingers over his nose, sniffing. He blinks furiously down at his hands, ones that hold memories of himself through the eyes of his family. They feel heavier than paper, weighted with love and gratitude built over time. He feels Rafe’s hand on his back and Max’s chin on his shoulder.

“You changed our lives, Dad,” Max murmurs, “Thank you for that.”

Alec gingerly rises to his feet, pulling his sons into his arms. He reaches out for Magnus’ hand, gripping it tightly within his. Magnus thumbs the tears from Alec’s eyes. His touch lingers on the lines at its corners.

The photographs don’t leave Alec’s hands the entire night.

*****

“Don’t, Alexander,” Magnus commands through teary eyes and gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare.”

Alec stumbles, taken aback. He watches as Magnus strides away from him, his hands curled into fists. Alec follows suit with long loping steps across their living room.

“Magnus,” Alec calls out, confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Magnus turns to Alec, his gaze accusing. “You don’t want immortality. You never have, Alexander, so why are you asking for it now?”

“Despite popular belief, Magnus,” Alec grits out, his tone acidic, “People’s minds do change.”

Magnus scoffs. “And what a lovely coincidence that it changed right after Izzy chose to turn.”

Alec blinks in disbelief. “Why does it matter, why are you picking a fight?!” he asks, voice rising, “Do you think I’m lying? Is this what this is?”

Magnus spins on his heels, angrily busying himself with reshelving the open tomes that lay on his desk. “Typical Nephilim,” he mutters, “No insight, whatsoever.”

“Hey, if you’re itching for an argument, at least have the decency to at least look at me,” Alec demands, “Or at least tell me what the fuck I did wrong by telling you I want to spend an eternity with you!”

“You get to pick, Alexander!” Magnus shouts.

“How can you fault me for having a choice?” Alec yells, “You don’t want me forever, is that it? You’ll move on the moment I hit the ground?”

Pain twists Magnus’ face as he whispers hollowly, “How can you even say that?”

Alec shakes his head, lost. His hands falter to his sides. “Then what is it?” he asks, his words coming out of him in twisted sobs, “Why won’t you want me for more years than I can give?”

Magnus falls silent. He shakes his head too as he leans onto the bookshelf. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Alec’s gaze is pleading when Magnus finally meets it.

“Two years ago, we got married,” Magnus mutters, “Do you know what I dream of since then?”

Alec shakes his head despite knowing the question doesn’t need an answer.

“I dream of us in five hundred years,” Magnus says. He wraps his arms around himself.

“We’re in Budapest, watching a particularly beautiful sunrise,” he murmurs, “Or in Paris, recreating our honeymoon. Or in Indonesia, by the beach, with everyone ogling you. I get to glare them all away.”

Alec closes his eyes momentarily. He almost smiles.

Magnus sounds broken when he speaks again. “But then I remember what that means. It means you’ve watched your family die. Everybody that is precious to you, you’ve outlived. You’ve buried your mother, your father, your siblings, your future children. You’re now burdened with sorrow your shoulders weren’t built to carry.”

Alec steadily cuts away the distance between him and Magnus. Rivulets roll down Magnus’ cheek as he stubbornly wipes them away.

Magnus sniffs and then exhales. “I know you love me very much, Alexander, but you don’t love me blindly,” he says, head shaking, “And I don’t want you to. I’ve made peace with my impending solitude a long time ago.”

“Magnus,” Alec reaches for him, but Magnus shakes his head again, openly weeping now. Magnus holds his hands out before him; he keeps Alec at bay like it’s his final line of defense.

“I’ve accepted it,” Magnus says shakily, “So please don’t tell me you want to be with me forever as if you’ve thought about it for a split-second, not when this thought has plagued me for hundreds of years –” Magnus’ breath hitches, “I can’t have false hopes, Alexander, please –”

Alec pulls Magnus into his arms and there, the earth finally collapses under them both. Magnus sobs unapologetically within the tight cradle of Alec's arms as Alec wipes the tears from his own face. Growing wetness seeps through the shoulder of his shirt. He presses his mouth against the side Magnus’ head, murmuring his quiet apologies and declarations of love. They hold onto each other like hands clasped in prayer.

Alec ushers them both to bed. Alec takes off Magnus’ shoes and socks, and Magnus, exhausted beyond measure, curls into Alec and closes his tired eyes. They shelve whatever they have to say to each other for the morning.

Alec wakes up to the sensation of bare feet against his.

“Sorry,” Magnus whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” Alec mumbles. He yawns, blinking himself to full consciousness. When he settles, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Dismal,” Magnus admits, “I'm sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Alec mutters, brow furrowed so early in the morning, “I didn’t think of it that way. I hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Magnus says, fingers to Alec’s cheek, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Alec exhales as he threads his fingers against Magnus. “I hate that you think that me being with you is an afterthought.”

Magnus’ smile is pained when he imparts it. His fingers tighten against Alec’s. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Alec shakes his head. “You will never be an afterthought,” he says, “You’re all I think about, Magnus. In my past, in this present, and in our future. You’re my stream of consciousness.”

“Sweet,” Magnus murmurs fondly.

Alec chuckles. “Unsurprisingly, I hope.”

Magnus presses into his husband, imparting a gentle kiss on his lips. Alec palms Magnus’ cheek softly.

When they falter apart, Alec says, “I still think some things are lightbulb moments.. But I promise to think about it.”

Magnus nods. “Okay.”

Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“Okay.”

*****

Alec leans over the balcony of the New York Institute, fingers twined around his glass.

Below him is a meticulously kept courtyard with an aged oak standing proudly in its center. He sees Helen and Aline sitting in one of the stone benches, looking up at the tree’s encompassing foliage. Behind him, Magnus and Max are magically sweeping away the remnants of Alec’s fiftieth birthday party.

“Nightcap?” Izzy asks as she settles beside Alec.

Alec takes a gulp from his glass. “Just water,” he says with humor, “Some of us actually have to think about our livers.”

Izzy laughs. She spins on her heels, her back pressed against the stone railing. “I’m not gonna lie, I miss drinking actual alcohol.”

Alec cringes. “Is it the viscosity?”

“Yes,” Izzy gushes, “Plasma’s a party starter, but by the angel. It’s like chugging molasses.”

“God, I didn’t need to hear that,” Alec groans. He finishes off his glass of water.

Izzy smiles at Alec, peering into his eyes. She looks so young, Alec thinks. She still looks like the little sister he would sacrifice everything for.

“Did you have fun, Alec?” she asks, but he knows what she means. Are you happy?

“Yes. I thought it was going to be a lot harder,” Alec admits. Below them, Aline leans her head onto Helen’s shoulder. The gray of their hair shines under the moonlight.

“It’s because you’re brave, Alec,” Izzy says, “To choose this for yourself and for Magnus – it’s exceptionally brave.”

“I would argue it makes me a coward,” Alec answers matter-of-factly, straightening, “I’m not brave enough to watch everyone I love die.”

Izzy actually laughs. She shakes her head. “Alec, I chose immortality because I was scared.”

Alec watches as Izzy sighs, her head tipped back in thought. “I couldn’t bear the thought of growing old while Simon’s body stayed in stasis,” she mutters, “I think of the things I will miss, moments that I won’t get to experience with the person that I love – and it’s like I couldn’t breathe.”

She sighs. “We’re all differently but just as equally scared. And it really never goes away.”

Alec turns his glass within his palms. “Does Simon know this?” he asks.

Izzy nods. “Simon knows,” she says, “Mammoth things like immortality.. the only way to make it easier to bear is if you parse through it with brutal honesty.”

Izzy turns to Alec. With her fingers curled around his arms, she murmurs, “I know it brought you a lot of unspoken grief when I decided to turn, and not just because of the obvious reasons. It was supposed to be your thing, the immortality debacle.”

Alec shakes his head. “Look, Iz, I don’t get to monopolize problems –”

“No, Alec,” Izzy presses, her grip tightening, “You and Magnus were figuring it out. My hasty decision threw a wrench in the works, I know it. I’m so sorry.”

Alec’s mouth quirks at one corner. He squeezes Izzy’s hand affectionately. “Don’t be,” he says gently, “Magnus has five hundred years in his back pocket and I’m stubborn. Our experience with immortality was always going to be different.”

“You could’ve started early,” Izzy mourns, “You could’ve been younger.”

Alec looks down onto the courtyard again, smiling. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Izzy has always had the special skill of knowing exactly what Alec means. She gazes at him, eyes soft.

“When did you know you wanted to turn for Simon?” Alec asks simply. Izzy’s gaze turns calculating, which he decides to dispel right away. “I’m just curious.”

Izzy presses her lips together in thought. “It just.. happened,” she says, “A lightbulb moment.”

Alec smiles.

“You don’t say.”

*****

“Be safe,” Magnus says, pressing kisses onto Max and Rafe’s cheeks, “Call frequently.”

Rafe pins Magnus against him in a brief embrace. “Will do.”

“Max, no more unnecessary magic,” Magnus warns, “If I get another call from the head of the Paris Institute –”

“Okay, okay, I promise,” Max sighs before blurting out, “Rafe went on an unsanctioned mission in Barcelona, by the way.”

Rafe scrambles to grab anything of Max, only to snatch a handful of air. “You little –”

Magnus’ jaw grows slack. “Raphael, you did what?”

“Go,” Alec urges with a laugh, snaking an arm around Magnus’ waist, “I got it.”

Max whips up a portal so fast Alec swears he feels a gust of wind sweep through the apartment. The gateway winks out of existence alongside their boys.

Magnus moans, fingers pressed against his temples. “Your children will be the death of me.”

“So they’re only mine when they mess up?” Alec smirks. He plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek before pulling away. He pulls open a cabinet door and reaches for his pillbox before another bottle catches his attention.

Alec turns to Magnus, pill bottle in hand. “Did you plan birthday sex for me?” he bluntly asks, “Not that I’m demanding it, but if you are and you want my cock’s participation, I better take one of these now.”

Magnus chuckles. “Oh, I definitely planned birthday sex for you,” he drawls, “But you won’t be needing pharmaceutical help.”

Alec raises a brow. “You might want to adjust those expectations, Magnus. I just hit half a century, after all.”

Magnus’ cheeky grin is suddenly softened by hesitance, and for a moment, Alec worries. Alec places the bottle on the counter before taking a few tentative steps towards his husband.

“I’ve been working on this for the past year,” Magnus says, the pads of his fingers rubbing together just like it would in times of reluctance, “And last month, I finally figured out the right magic.”

Magnus fingers flutter in the air in an unsure gesture. “My gift is a memory,” he says, “One we can relive. It doesn’t meddle with time; it’s a projection of a recollection. Like a photograph pulled from my mind.”

Alec wonders why Magnus is so nervous about his gift; it sounds lovely.

“If you would have it,” Magnus hesitates, “You get to be young again for a night.”

Ah.

Alec gazes affectionately at Magnus as he stands before him, fiddling with his hands. It’s a fine line of a gift, Alec realizes, one that could clearly offend if given to the wrong person, in the wrong context. Alec could see how it could potentially hurt him.

But of course, it doesn’t. It’s Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest. He who knows every swollen knot in Alec’s body. The person who could hurt him most, but also love him best.

Alec dispels the distance between them. He reaches out, the pads of his fingers sinking into the well of Magnus’ palm.

With utmost affection, Alec says, “Show me.”

A relieved exhale leaves Magnus’ lips. With Alec’s hand in his, Magnus faces the empty expanse of their living room. He draws a circle in the air the same way he does when he creates portals, but instead of a golden swirl of magic, a tunnel of white light erupts before them. Magnus presses his fingers to his temples again, pulling another photograph from his mind. This one he throws into the brightness.

Magnus turns to Alec, his grip tightening. “Ready, darling?” he asks, but Alec knows he means are you sure?

“Lead the way,” Alec says, except he means with you, always.

They walk into the light.

*****

It’s glaringly bright, Alec thinks.

The light feels like mist to Alec’s touch, the coolness brushing over his skin. It wafts over his face as the brightness swells around him even more, making him squint. Magnus is nothing but a faint silhouette before him as he drowns in the light of the magic he has summoned.

And then, it starts at his fingertips.

The temperature suddenly shifts, comfortably warm like a thermostat perfectly tuned to Alec’s preference. The more steps Alec takes, the farther the warmth spreads; up to his arms, to his shoulder, until it kisses the line of his jaw. The brightness dulls too; his eyes regain the image of Magnus walking backward as he leads him out of the portal and into this small fragment of his mind. Alec tightens his grasp and finds hardened callouses on the spots where office work has softened them. Alec’s arthritic joints are quiet where they would usually creak.

Alec finally emerges, his feet sinking into carpeting that feels familiar against the soles of his bare feet. His toes curl into the wool fibers.

Alec looks up at Magnus, who looks the same, but somehow inexplicably young. Behind him, Magnus is backdropped by golden sheets. Alec couldn’t help but toy at the necklaces that hang from Magnus’ neck in layers.

“Hi,” Magnus whispers.

When Alec speaks, his voice is strong. He gently tugs Magnus closer by the chain of his jewelry. “Hi,” he whispers back, “How do I look?”

“Like you haven’t aged a day,” Magnus jokes.

Alec chuckles, as if to say, funny. He turns to where he knows Magnus’ mirror stands, unsurprised by the young man that meets him. Instead, he beholds the image with affection. As much as he misses this Alec, he doesn’t envy him. This Alec has yet to experience the kinds of happiness he doesn’t even know he gets to have.

“Forgot I had these,” Alec mutters, looking down at himself as he smooths a hand over his abdomen. He peeks into his shirt and then laughs. “Magnus, your favorite part of my body’s back for a one-night encore.”

Magnus laughs too. He pulls Alec by the buckle of his belt. “Then we best not keep the audience waiting.”

With the gentle press of Magnus’ lips on his, Alec’s laugh settles to a small smile. Alec tries to lift his shirt from his body, but Magnus gently knocks Alec’s hands away as if to say that’s for me to do. Alec’s chuckle huffs out of his nose; two can play this game. He peels off Magnus’ pesky jacket, unearthing a black, form-fitting sweater that Alec still thinks about to this day.

Just like before, Alec still fumbles horribly with his pants, and Magnus still tries to catch his lips as he does. Magnus still laughs, and Alec still swallows the laughter from Magnus’ mouth with a kiss that shifts the earth under their feet.

Magnus puts them both to bed, nearly gymnastic, the way he does it. That was graceful.

Alec pulls the shirt of Magnus’ back, refusing to break their kiss until absolutely necessary. Shadowhunter.

Magnus draws away momentarily as he casts his shirt onto the floor. He gently rakes through the thick smattering of hair across Alec’s chest, now black instead of gray. Magnus’ touch lingers, and so does Alec’s thoughts.

Alec’s chest rises to meet Magnus’ mouth as he plants a kiss at the valley of Alec’s chest. Magnus thumbs a nipple before taking it gently between his teeth.

“Magnus,” Alec sighs.

Alec’s body sinks into the mattress as Magnus lavishes over the puckered bud. Alec cups Magnus’ neck, holding him in place, and there Magnus gladly stays. This was once Alec’s favorite things in bed, something time changed in the most unusual ways. Once-dull nerve endings muted by age jolts back to life with every nip of Magnus’ teeth and swirl of his tongue. Alec savors every bolt of warm electricity that crackles down his spine as if it’s something he won’t get to have tomorrow.

Magnus presses a final kiss on Alec’s chest before making his way down Alec’s body. He palms Alec’s cock through his unzipped trousers; he noses the shaft, outlining its shape.

Alec whispers, “Suck me off, Magnus. Please.”

“Of course, love,” Magnus says, hands working to release Alec’s cock from his underwear, “Anything you want. Everything.”

Alec’s hardness stands tall and proud with ease, hefty against Magnus’ palm. Magnus kisses Alec once at the base before dragging his lips up the shaft. Alec plays with the short buzz of hair in Magnus’ neck, entranced by the texture, and his grip tightens when Magnus mouths along the crown and finally engulfs Alec whole.

Alec swears the ceiling flushes pink. “Fuck, Magnus..”

Magnus relishes in coaxing every helpless moan and hitched whimper out of Alec’s lips. Every flick of the tongue, gulp of the throat, hollowing of the cheeks - Magnus sucks Alec’s cock in the ways he likes the most, gleaned from years and years of learning Alec down to his very bones. All Alec could do is watch through pleasure-hazed eyes and thick lashes as Magnus tells him, in yet another way, how much he is thoroughly known.

How much he is thoroughly loved.

Alec caresses Magnus’ cheek, thumb pressing onto the corner of Magnus’ stretched mouth. “You’re everything to me,” Alec whispers, rolling his hips gently as if to seek permission. Magnus thrums around Alec as he moans his enthusiastic yes.

Alec fucks into Magnus’ mouth ardently, his young body arching off the bed and into the warm tightness that is provided to him. This ageless body he wears feels old but new at the same time; it feels every undulation of Magnus’ tongue against his shaft, responds vigorously to Magnus’ every touch. Alec feels so absolutely himself but, at the same time, inexplicably not. Magnus reaches back and sinks lube-slicked fingers into his own ass, and seeing Magnus spread himself open before him with unfettered pleasure surprisingly moves Alec’s heart.

With a final roll of the hip, Alec gasps, planting both his palms against Magnus’ jaw. He quietly urges Magnus off him before he fully topples off the edge. Magnus crawls the length of Alec’s body, only stopping when Alec is within kissing distance again. With the press of Magnus’ tongue against his, Alec suddenly finds a profound ache blooming in his chest, beautiful but wistful. Dazed.

“Do you prefer me like this?” Alec murmurs, “Young?”

He asks the question with no malice. Nothing but a simple curiosity, and after twenty years of marriage, Magnus doesn’t misconstrue.

Magnus kisses the corner of Alec’s mouth. Straddling Alec’s hips, he answers, “I simply prefer you.”

Alec chuckles. “Sweet.”

The lopsided smile that grows on Alec’s mouth is short-lived as it is soon replaced by another shuddering exhale. Magnus palms Alec’s cock, thumbing the slit.

“You forget how utterly enraptured I am of you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, “Did you think that enchantment would simply go away with time?”

Alec’s breath hitches on his throat as he feels his cockhead kiss Magnus’ puckered ring. “Yes,” he admits.

Magnus caresses Alec’s cheek. “Oh, darling,” he says, his smile forlorn, “You’ve never been more wrong.” With that, he sinks down onto Alec’s cock.

“Gods,” Alec hisses as Magnus shudders a breathy moan as he inches himself down Alec’s length. Alec palms Magnus’ ass, kneading the firm muscle underneath.

“Darling, you feel divine,” Magnus gasps. He bottoms out, ass cheeks nestled into the nest of Alec’s pubic hair.

Alec scrambles for Magnus’ face, kissing him deeply. Magnus holds onto Alec’s wrists as he rocks forward, his hips curling commas in the air as he sets a steady pace for them both. Magnus fucks himself onto Alec’s cock with vigor that mirrors the adamancy of his words, every high whine and deep-seated groan presenting Alec with the eloquence Magnus, at the moment, does not have.

“God you feel so good,” Alec groans, fucking up into Magnus who rides him with equal urgency.

“Just like that, darling,” Magnus whimpers, eyes screwed shut as he presses their foreheads together, “Oh, angel, how I love you.. do you know that?”

I do, Alec thinks through the haze of his pleasure.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers desperately, “I was so unbearably lonely.”

Alec’s gaze blurs.

Magnus cradles Alec’s head, fingers curled tightly into his hair. “And I am unfathomably changed because of you.”

Alec breathlessly sits up, culling Magnus tightly within his arms as he ruts deeper and deeper. Their once steady rhythm becomes more volatile, their orgasms mercurial within their cores as it spits and bubbles like a mixture about to explode. The bed squeaks and groans under them.

Magnus’s body tightens against Alec’s as he throatily begs, “Oh, darling, don’t stop –”

Alec buries his face against the crook of Magnus’ neck, and if he embraces Magnus any tighter he might disappear within his grasp.

“Right there, right there, please – ”

They come together, Magnus untouched and gasping, Alec in a dizzying, blinding mixture of white-hot pleasure and unbridled happiness. His orgasm flushes through every winding vein, his muscles clenching and unclenching in an attempt to wring every droplet of pleasure out of his body. Magnus shudders around him in boneless satiation, thighs shaking around Alec’s hips. They breathe for what it feels like a long time. When Alec finally blinks up from Magnus’ neck, he is teary-eyed and breathless.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, breathless with affection, and he says it again just because. “I love you.”

Alec thumbs Magnus’ cheek.

“I love you too, Magnus,” he musters through the ache of his throat, “More than you could ever know.”

Magnus presses their foreheads together. “I know, darling,” he murmurs, “Don’t worry. I know.”

Alec doesn’t say anything as he buries Magnus into the mattress, fisting Magnus’ half-hard cock in his hand. Alec presses a sinking kiss into Magnus’ mouth, one that is telling of the things left unsaid.

They don’t leave the memory until the morning.

*****

When Alec wakes up, Magnus is gazing at him, fingers combing through his scalp.

Alec shifts in bed, and when he does, his bones ache. His hand joins Magnus’ and finds grainy and fragile hair between the pads of his fingers. His skin wrinkles, and his body sags. The lines of his eyes are the most pronounced it’s ever been.

Despite all of it, Magnus still looks at him. Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest.

“There you are,” Magnus murmurs, full of affection.

Alec’s mouth quirks into a smile. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and holds Magnus’ wandering hand within his. Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“There you are.”

*****

Epilogue

“Do you need the machine?”

Magnus reaches into his coat pocket and magics some bills between his fingers. “No, thank you,” he answers in his well-practiced French, “Keep the change.”

The café owner, usually a touch ornery, takes the bill from the counter with a thoroughly impressed expression on his face. “Much appreciated. ”

“Can I sit here for a moment? ” Magnus asks, motioning to the empty patio chairs.

The man waves a dismissive hand in the air. “With the tip you gave me, you can do whatever you want.”

It makes Magnus laugh. He places his paper bag of fresh croissants and a cup of to-go cappuccino onto the table before gracefully depositing himself onto an empty chair. The nearby chapel rings its early morning call for its parishioners, and Magnus watches people ascend the steps to its gigantic, arched doors.

Early morning Paris is quiet, and early morning Paris in a café tucked away from its busier streets is quieter. After his three-hundredth-fifty-sixth visit to the French capital, Magnus has chosen to forgo his home away from home; usually, a penthouse overlooking an essential Parisian monument. This time, he ventures deeper into a small residential area a handful of metro stops away from the city center. When he looks out of his balcony, he sees his temporary neighbors: a chain-smoking woman in her forties and a college student whose head is consistently buried into a three-inch-thick textbook. He hasn’t waved at them in greeting; he knows better than to engage.

It’s been five hundred years.

Magnus is still quietly floored as to how little has changed in the world. New York still has the best pizza, Paris is still somewhat pretentious. Magnus still wears a goatee, and he still loves his martinis dearly.

Magnus doesn’t deign try to recount the many ways his life has arched in highs and lows, coiling within itself in the five centuries that had passed. He is no longer the High Warlock of anything; only surfacing when his help is direly needed. His brownstone in Brooklyn and home in Alicante is resided by strangers now. He has diminished his treasured things into a small ornate box, and the rest of his possessions are tucked away in a pocket of the twelfth dimension.

He has welcomed people in his arms just as much as he has buried his friends and family into the ground. He eats croissants and drinks coffee. He remembers the people he loved – still loves.

He breathes in and out, the air heavy in his lungs as he does. The sun filters through the shelled border of Le Pavillon’s awning and onto the back of his hand, warm and temperate.

Sometimes, Magnus wonders for how long he could do this.

A touch alights onto his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, despite the tragic losses and unfathomable despair, smiles. He threads his fingers through arthritic hands of which he knows every painful swell. He looks back and sees eyes that see all, but still gazes in earnest.

“There you are,” Alec says.

And Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, answers.

“There you are.”

#arialerendeair #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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biavastarr · 5 years

Text

Co-Workers

Pairing: steve rogers x you (fem!reader)

Warnings: language, mild (?) violence, injuries, inaccurate medical descriptions, inaccurate passage of time

Word Count: 3,968

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the media or characters mentioned in this story.

Author’s Notes: okay so this is my first fic that I’ve written since seventh/eighth grade and since the theme is nostalgia and I’m the writer who has the power to do whatever I want I’m gonna disregard like half of canon and make this fic post-Civil War except they all got along and everyone’s alive and happy and Pietro and Bucky are living at the tower too and it’s not the compound mainly bc I want it to be in the city. reader is an ex-SHIELD agent who joined the Avengers like a month ago bc she’s been on the run since it fell. I just,, I love them both. I’m definitely being overindulgent and this is way too much exposition for stuff I don’t think really gets mentioned.

this is for @whirlybirbs and her endgame writing challenge, the nostalgic thing in this being the innocent “they all lived in the tower together” era that I loved so much. this is my first time writing for Marvel but I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Being a former SHIELD agent left you with a lot of walls that a certain blonde super-soldier is all too good at tearing down.

This mirror, you decided, has got to go. You were staring at yourself from ten different angles and the A.I. was reciting a full rundown of your skincare routine and it was quite frankly creeping you out. Ever since you moved in to Stark Tower last month, Tony had been trying to charm you with increasingly technologically enhanced appliances and you were starting to feel like Belle, what with having to tell your fridge that no, you are not hungry but thank you for the concern.

You carefully smoothed over your dress, a black, crushed-velvet thing with a high neck and flowing sleeves, a cinched waist, and wide skirt that fell delicately at your knee. If you could appreciate one thing about the mirror, you mused, you could admit that it let you know you look damn good. You slipped on a pair of pumps and left your little pseudo-apartment as quietly as you could manage, praying that your years of SHIELD training didn’t fail you in your time of - dare you say desperate? - need.

Tragically, as though the gods themselves had it out for you - you’d curse Thor for this later - you only managed to make it down the hall before delighted crowing from one genius billionaire playboy philanthropist made himself known. You turned slowly, bracing yourself for this inevitable interrogation-slash-please-be-friends-with-us speech. The man strolled over to you with a smirk on his face, Captain America himself trailing awkwardly behind him. Your heart fluttered pathetically at the sight of the blonde soldier. No, you reminded yourself sternly. Coworkers are coworkers.

Blissfully oblivious to your sour expression, Tony clasped your hand and spun you wildly, your dress flaring out around you. “Do my eyes deceive me, or are you finally gracing us acquaintances with your presence at movie night tonight?” He drawled out his comment, glancing far-too-knowingly at a certain slack-jawed supersoldier.

You winced, knowing that he’d just quoted you from a check-in report you had given Fury the other day that the other Avengers had found and pouted over. You didn’t have any specific issues with them, you knew, but they were your coworkers. The last time you had trusted the people you worked with, you had ended up with a gun to your head in a room full of Hydra members. It was easier - both for you and your heart - not to mix business with pleasure. That being said, you also knew that it’s never wise to be rude to a man who’s quite literally housing and paying you. Ever since SHIELD fell, Tony Stark had taken it upon himself to finance this whole initiative.

You sighed dramatically, faking a put-upon tone. “I suppose I can promote you all to glorified roommates, if you would like, but no, I’ve got a date.” Your eyes subconsciously drifted to Steve, drinking in his appearance as you admired his absurdly tight shirt straining over his chest.

At this, Tony lit up, his grin only widening further, eyebrows dancing high on his forehead. “Oh, really,” he questioned, “and with whom, may I ask, are you going out with? Can they really outmatch ole’ Capsicle here with his puppy eyes?” He winked at Steve, who was doing his best (which was not very successful) not to stare too deep into your eyes.

Smiling playfully, you pinched Tony’s cheek, laughing at the blush that painted his face in reaction. “Aw, Stark, that’s for me to know, and for you to never find out.” With a swish of your dress, you stepped around him, nodding kindly at a still-silent Steve Rogers, and entered the elevator.

As the doors closed, you waved shyly at the pair, trying not to think too hard about how none of the walls you had built, those defenses so painstakingly made, could ever really protect you from those incredibly blue eyes that still looked your way.

---

Steve hated when Pietro picked for movie nights. The last three time in a row had granted the Sokovian complete and utter control and he was dying, he was sure of it.

While they normally rotated turns, last week was what the Avengers had hoped to be your turn, but you had shrugged and said you had a mission, passing it off to Pietro, despite him literally picking the week before, not that Steve was still bitter about it or anything. Not at all. Tonight it was supposed to be Tony’s turn, but he had picked up on Steve’s exasperation with the speedster’s movie taste and gleefully handed the reins to Pietro once more.

Wiggling his eyebrows (ridiculously), Pietro popped the DVD for Not Another Teen Movie into the player, flopping down into the seat beside his sister with a bright grin. “Look, Captain,” his heavily accented voice drew Steve from his thoughts. “You may even like this one, it’s a play off all the other flicks we’ve been watching. Also, the guy who plays Jake is hot.” He winked unabashedly at Steve, who was now contemplating how hard it was to fake a heart attack if it meant he could leave the inevitable teasing that would come from tonight.

No, not because he was an “old man who can’t appreciate fine cinema” (Natasha’s cutting words after he said he didn’t particularly enjoy High School Musical 3), but because your absence meant that the others could safely - and loudly - tease him about you.

Bucky, whose metal arm was slung casually around the seat next to him, was currently bearing a shark-like grin, and Nat, who had draped herself across an entire half of the couch, much to Tony’s chagrin, had a smirk painted on her face as they watched everyone settle in, easily noting that you, like always, had elected not to come.

“Where’s our new recruit?” Wanda inquired with an air of fake innocence, oh, Wanda, not you too, not you, thought Steve in alarm, the young witch looking around as if she really needed to search for a person she knew was not attending.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? She’s got a date.” Tony said, drawing out the last word as if he treasured it dearly.

“No!” Wanda mock gasped. “How did I not know this!” She turned to Steve, the bowl of popcorn shifting dangerously in her lap. Sam nimbly scooped it up before it fell, and Tony mumbled something grateful about stains in his carpeting before stuffing his face with the buttery popped kernels. “Who’s she out with?”

Sam grinned at her slyly as he tossed a piece of popcorn at Natasha, watching her catch it deftly in her mouth. “It’s probably Pepper’s new assistant, Jared, I think? He’s always staring at her like she hung the moon or something, bet he finally got the balls to ask her out.”

Natasha shook her head incredulously. “No way, that kid is so nervous he rivals Steve in his eloquence around her, I swear. Maybe she met someone outside of the Tower. She does go out without us a lot.”

Steve flushed considerably, cursing his Irish skin for betraying him so. He tried to focus on the movie again, preferring the embarrassment of the whipped cream-covered protagonist to the current situation he was facing. “I do not get nervous around her,” he grumbled, more to himself than anything. Bucky’s head shot up at this, his damn super-hearing once again being the bane of Steve’s existence.

“Yeah, punk, and I don’t have an arm made of Vibranium,” Bucky snarked, throwing his metal hand up for emphasis. “What, like it’s just natural for you to fall off your chair mid-debriefing?” Steve, again, bemoaned his reddening state, doing his best to ignore the group around him smirking at the memory.

Sam patted his leg consolingly, having stretched out on the pillow-laden floor for better access to the snacks. “Look, man,” he started carefully, “you’ve just gotta say something, sometime. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late and you definitely don’t want to say it when you don’t mean to. She’s an Avenger, just like the rest of us, despite how much she tries to act like she’s not, and it’s not going to make life any less complicated for her if you’re stewing on feelings she doesn’t know about.”

Steve laughed a little disbelievingly. “What, you think I’ll tell her in the middle of battle? C’mon, man, give me some credit.” Sam rolled his eyes eerily in sync with Nat and Bucky.

“Alright, Rogers, whatever. Act like you don’t need us.”

---

Oh fucking hell, you thought, sprinting frantically through the streets of Paris as the city lights twinkled tauntingly above you.

Your date, as you had called it eighteen hours ago, was actually at a gala hosted by an arms dealer Fury suspected was Hydra, and now, with a gash carved across your leg and a head wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, you felt that he had been quite justified.

Pausing for a moment in a flower-covered alcove, you held your breath, hoping that whoever had been tailing you had finally called it quits and moved on. You were tapping out a message on your phone, letting him know what went down, when you caught sight of the man tracking you.

Shit, you thought to yourself. It was the man whose very arm you had entered the gala on, and he was the most trusted goon of the suspect you had been investigating. You knew it was safer to head back to the Tower, check in with Maria and Fury, and then return for further evidence, especially considering the USB drive you had tucked into the pocket of your dress, but you had already gotten so much from this mission that you hadn’t expected and by god if you weren’t a relentless and slightly reckless pursuer of justice.

Narrowing your eyes as you continued to observe your oblivious pursuer, you opened up your purse, quickly wrapped your calf wound, and carefully slipped on the stealth suit and matching boots, packing away the dress and frowning slightly at the new tear in the seam. One of the surprise pains of being an Avenger was the tragically short lifespan of your closet.

Padding behind the man silently, you finished your message to Fury, punctuating it with the update of your plans to infiltrate whatever base the man was headed to. Breathing in deeply, you slid your phone into one of the straps across your thigh and winced slightly at the pain still screaming in your leg, hurrying on behind the burly man.

---

Maria groaned exasperatedly at the message blinking on her monitor, swinging her chair around to face Fury. “You see this?” She pointed at it in frustration, finding no other words for your stupidity.

“Fucking dumbass. She always does this. Thinks she can get all the motherfuckers out of sheer will.”

“God, I mean, she’s a good agent, but she has no regard for her personal safety. It is such a pain, Nick, I’m telling you, I’m going to get gray hair just from having to be her handler.” Maria tugged at her dark locks as if to display them for inspection. She and Nick both loved you, but they forgot how dumb it was to send you on a solo mission with no back-up; you were never sated with just satisfying mission objectives; with no one to stop you, you wouldn’t be finished with the job until at least an entire base was wiped out or you were carried away on a stretcher.

Nick shook his head and picked up his phone again, signalling to Maria that she needed to respond to you, well-aware that you’d ignore their protests anyways. Dialing his backup plan, he internally groaned at the voice that picked up.

“Hey, Stark. So I borrowed your new agent-”

---

Oh fucking hell, for real this time, you thought, wincing at the heavy manacles they left you in. You were a little grossed out that these things looked like they came out of a medieval torture museum, and had the rust to prove it, but you supposed that was a later issue. You had gotten your tetanus shot, you reminded yourself as a new grimace shook you when the metal dug painfully into your wrists.

No, your current issue were the two Hydra agents staring you down in the harshly lit room. You assumed it was the designated unwillful-interrogation room, but you clocked no less than three potential exit points, from the door to the vents to poorly concealed hollow panel you bet you could kick in with a hearty shove. Finishing your assessment of the room, you waited until one of the agents cleared their throat before turning back to them.

“Who do you work for?” His gruff voice ground out, grabbing the chain that kept your bulky cuffs suspended in the air. Your lips curled into an expression of disgust at his proximity.

“I mean, a) cliche line, seriously, and b) why do you even ask? If I’m from anywhere worth being from, it’s not like I’d tell you. Also, you guys should have, like, basic investigative skills. Facial recognition technology. Literally anything.”

The man growled again, rattling the chain as if he was trying to shake you around like a ragdoll. Your head swam and you were reminded of the blood draining out of you from a wound with an ever-slipping wrap.

Figuring that waiting longer would only worsen the situation, you yanked your arms up and wound the chain tightly around the agent, choking him out while his partner sprang up towards you. She shot straight at you through him, clearly not caring whether he survived this attack, but you launched yourself up and over his shoulders, snapping his thick neck with a twist of the chains. Angling your wrists up so that the next bullets hit the cuffs, you wriggled your hands out of the pinched, burning hot metal and lunged at her before she could react.

Scrabbling at her hands while trying to grab the gun, she managed to sling you over her shoulder so you landed with a thud on the ground. You kicked out at her feet and she fell heavily on top of you, but you flipped yourself over, straddling yourself over her hips. She tried to jerk her head up, but you dodged quickly, circling her throat with your hands and forcing your knee down on her thigh so you could follow the momentum and twist with a loud crack of her neck.

Letting her body slump to the ground, you dusted yourself off and looked around. Electing to exit via the vents, as it seemed to be the safest way to stay out of sight, you braced yourself against the chains hanging from the ceiling and pulled yourself up and out of the room.

---

“Barnes, Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, c’mon, we’ve got a mission to ‘supplement,’ as Nick so delicately put it.” Tony was speedwalking through the common area, ignoring groans of protest as he smacked the whining assassins. “Shut up, Barnes, you can lose to Natasha at chess on the quinjet, we’ll have plenty of time on our way to Paris.”

“Paris?” Steve parroted, joining Tony at his side. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that this alleged ‘date’ has lasted a day and a half?”

“Relax, Cap, your girlfriend is fine-”

“She’s not my girlfrien-”

“Right, you wish!” Natasha cackled loudly, high-fiving Sam and Bucky while Steve turned and gave her the best kicked puppy expression he could. This only served to make them laugh more, and Steve once again questioned why he ever let these dorks - his dorks - all meet.

---

“Yes!” You whispered quietly to yourself, beaming at the storage room full of explosives you could see below you. Dropping down as quietly as you could manage, you let yourself land on the shoulders of the lone guard and knock him to the ground, stabbing him in the stomach with knife you had pulled out of your boots. Pausing once again to readjust the bandage you had tied around your leg, you let yourself lean against a crate for a moment, your vision wavering.

---

“Tony?” Natasha’s concerned voice rang out from the cockpit, causing everyone to worriedly look in her direction. “Was this base supposed to be on fire?”

Steve stood up and rushed to the windows, his own eyes confirming one of his biggest fears. He had a team member down there, and he didn’t know if she was alive or dead, and worst of all, he didn’t know what he could do to help her.

“Sam, Tony, you guys get out now. Fly over and try to get us visual on any activity going down. Let us know if, if you see her.” Steve shook his head at his stumble, pausing momentarily. “Bucky, Nat, as soon as we land this thing, we’re all going to split up. Cover as much ground as we can. Where’s our closest landing point?”

“I’ve got it, Cap, calm your beautiful, beefy-”

“Do not even finish that sentence right now.”

“Rogers that.”

“That doesn’t even work, Tony!”

---

It had been a whole 273 seconds since Steve had touched down on the ground and there was still no sign of you, and with the few Hydra agents stationed at this base being found dead or dropped already, this left his mind all too open to thinking up terrible situations that you could’ve found yourself in.

Don’t be ridiculous, he chided himself, the knocked out agents, the explosions are a good sign. She’s a capable agent; if she did that, she’s out here somewhere. He clenched his jaw in concern over the state of the base, though. He was guessing that it was you who blew it to near pieces, and rubble was still crumbling and settling. He just hoped he didn’t find you trapped under any of it.

Suddenly, a piercing scream curled out from around a corner, and he whipped his head in search of the chilling sound. Jogging into another collapsing room, he breathed a weighty sigh of relief upon discovering your bloody but intact body on the ground. He followed your horrified line of sight to discover a kevlar-clad severed leg, drenched in blood and soot.

He knelt before you, bringing your head to his chest and wrapping his arms gently around you, trying to quiet your panicked cries, though puzzled at the sight - as an agent and then Avenger, you certainly were no stranger to gore. Steve rocked you slightly, and your shrieks quieted enough for him to bring his face level with yours and search your eyes earnestly. You watched him, your face blank, as his large thumb brushed tenderly against your cheek, wiping the stray tears and dust from your face.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, “are you okay?” He took your hand in his, gingerly stroking the back of your hand in soothing circles, and you marveled at his soft touch despite the rough leather of his gloves.

“I,” you started helplessly, “I’m, uh.” Tears continued to escape you, and you tried to fight the humiliation of crying at work, no matter how grave your situation was. You nodded brokenly at the bloody calf across the room from you, hoping he would put two and two together, and your shoulders shook once more. Steve looked at you quizzically, fighting the urge to kiss your fluttering lashes until the unidentified pain went away.

“....What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“I, just, what?”

You wailed again, throwing up your hands in frustration and instinctively standing to go and show him yourself when suddenly you glanced down in wonder. No, your eyes did not deceive you, you were standing on the same two legs you had entered this mission with. “Oh, that’s not my leg!” You gestured excitedly at the limb you had mistaken for your own, glancing back at your own leg that had a matching gash down the back of the calf. “I had just assumed I couldn’t feel it because of shock, y’know, and-”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” Steve’s breath hitched as he realized what he just said. Oh god, he groaned internally, this isn’t technically in the middle of battle, but-

“What?” You were blinking, a lot, more so than what Steve thought was normal. He tried not to read too much into your eyes, those eyes he found himself lost in, prettily framed by those long lashes and holding a gaze he couldn’t understand.

Shit, his mind was racing, stumbling over his words once more. “I, uh, I don’t, um, know why? Why I said that? Oh, god, I mean, we’re not even there yet, not that I’m expecting you to have to be there, ever, oh god, I am so sorry, I’ll just-”

“Steve,” you cut in, gasping a little and clutching a ridiculously thick arm of his for balance. “Fuck, uh, my leg, my actual leg this time-” With a painful whine, your body toppled against his as you blacked out, warm blood still trickling down your calf.

---

You squinted your eyes open, trying to avoid the glaring fluorescent light the filled the room. The hospital room, you realized, turning your head with a wince to see a large window whose natural light was tragically obstructed by cream-colored blinds. You let your eyelids droop again, hoping that you could avoid the effort of revamping your lighting by just falling asleep, but you had no such luck. You settled for letting your gaze wander aimlessly around the area, which you assumed to be a local Parisian medical center and not the Avengers medbay you had yet to visit - Tony would never allow such an ugly tile pattern within fifty feet of his home.

Shifting carefully, all too aware of the throbbing pain that still burned in your leg, you looked to the other half of the room and stifled a gasp - the one and only Captain America was asleep at your side, leaning heavily to the side of his fragile-looking plastic chair. Your eyes fell to his still-gloved hand, which was clasped in your own, and you briefly wondered how out of it you were that you hadn’t noticed this immediately.

Dragging your free hand over to cradle his face, you called his name softly. Bleary-eyed and painfully cute, Steve blinked his way awake, coming back to you. His shoulders sagged in relief at the smile on your face.

“Hey.” You weren’t necessarily one for feelings or overaffection, but you hoped Steve didn’t notice the embarrassingly obvious adoration in your voice as your eyes drank him in.

“Hey.” His tone matched yours, sleep-husky voice still loving and velvet. You started to draw your hand away, relishing the warmth that emanated from his skin, but he caught your wrist cautiously, gentle enough to let you slip away if you wanted but firm in his request.

You stayed like that, together, for a dreamy few seconds, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Listen, uh, so, I’m sorry, about asking, not that I didn’t want to ask because I did, but it was unprofessional and unfair to you and-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I said yes, Steve.” He blinked at you adorably in question.

“But I thought you didn’t want anything like that with a, um, coworker?”

You swallowed and looked down at your clasped hands. You had spent far too long keeping people at arm’s length because of your fear, and you knew you could trust the Avengers. You made a tiny, tentative promise to yourself, to give people chances like they had given you. Bringing your eyes to match his, you gave him a small smile.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Captain America is my coworker, and it’s Steve Rogers who’s asking.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #my writing #birbswc2019 #i dont rlly like this but i am 2 tired to try harder

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spacegate · 7 years

Text

Trust Ch 10

An Undertale Fanfiction

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / AO3 LINK Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies Setting: Baby Blaster AU Contains: SAD CHILDREN. Mentions of child abuse. Synopsis: In which the kids have a nice day with their BFF, Gnash is fed up with some shit, and good dogs are being good dogs.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of severe child abuse for this chapter

Bertram shivered, drawing the collar of his coat closer around his scaly neck. Of course, they would have to go to Snowdin, the bane of his existence. Scales weren't particularly warm in the snow and ice after all. He was still cold even when wrapped in several layers of heat enchanted clothing. Bah...to be a dinosaur...

There was a reason why scaled Monsters tended to live in Hotland. Still...Bertram was a little worried. He could almost swear that they were being watched from the shadows of the evergreen trees. He squinted into the darkness, but he could not see anything that proved they were being observed. Just flashes of white that could have easily been simple snowflakes in the wind.

“Are we there yet?” Alphys bounced about in the snow, barely able to stay calm as they walked. Alphys didn't seem to mind the cold so much in her excitement.

Since leaving their home she hasn't stopped talking about her friends. How nice they were. How cool they were. She was trying to talk them up, but every-time she mentioned the little bone children, Bertram felt a shiver of guilt creep across his soul. After all, his dear intelligent daughter had came to him for help and he had dismissed her.

Everyone in the guard had tried to comfort him about it, but in the end he still ignored a cry for help and he felt awful. His fault or not, it was his inability to trust his daughter that continued their torture. The conversation over the phone with their guardian hammered in just how fragile they were. It was stressed that they would all need to be VERY careful while visiting. So much guilt...it refused to leave him.

Under his arm he carried a present. Hopefully, it would be a good start to make amends with the skeletons. Inside were some cookies, simple butter and sugar ones. Bribery to the highest degree, but he hoped it would be good enough to at least make them a little more comfortable.

“Almost there.” He finally spoke. He reached out a clawed hand to hold his daughter close, a little paranoid with all this ice around. What if she slipped and hurt herself? That wouldn't do at all. He only wished that the 'being watched' feeling would go away. It had started ever since he set foot in the frozen town.

His old instincts flared nervously as he daughter held his hand and led him on, her ramblings a low buzz in his mind.

They were shortly directed to a pleasant little two story house. Seems that Grillby, the boy's guardian, was very well known and beloved in town. Just about everyone knew where he lived. The front of the house was fairly plain and simple. It stood out from the permanent Gyftmas decorations on the other houses for sure.

He hummed nervously, adjusting his coat and hesitantly knocking on the door. There was a sharp bark from inside the house before it went silent again. He had to wait a few seconds before the door opened and a warm draft of heated air spilled into the front step. Bertram's sigh of relief caught up in his throat when he realized who had opened the door. Despite knowing who he was, it was still a bit of a shock for Monsters old enough to remember the war.

Grillby, former Major General of the Royal Monster Military...Bane of Humans...The Flames of Vengeance.... ...was standing there, wearing a bright pink t-shirt with 'HOT DAD' written on it in a flaming font. Hot dad indeed.

“Hello...” The fire monster adjusted his glasses as he peered at the two dinosaurs before him. His gaze then turned to the smallest dino. “.....Alphys....I take it? Welcome to our home...”

“YEAH!” She squeaked and flailed her arms as much as they could under several layers of cloth. She vibrated slighted. “Are Sans and Papyrus in there? Are they okay? ARE THEY ALRIGHT? CAN I SEE THEM N-”

“Ah...yes....yes....they are fine...” The flame held up his hands to calm the overly excited child. “They are inside...but please....be careful as they are still regaining their strength...”

“Don't be rough with them, sweet pea.” Bertram smiled and patted his daughter's head.

“Please be aware...” The flame addressed Bertram next. “They do not trust strangers....it takes a long time for them...to warm up to people. And...no sudden movements...and no loud sudden noise. Don't try to touch them unless they...initiate contact first. And don't...stare at them.”

Seems there were quite a few rules, but understandable ones. “I understand, I'll do my best to not intimidate them.” The dino nodded his head. He'll do his best, even though his species were not known for being intimidating. Pastel friendly dinosaurs were the entire family line.

Grillby nodded and stood aside to allow the two to come in out of the cold. Both dinosaurs wiped their feet before entering the house. What greeted them was not children, but an empty living room. It was warm and pleasant enough and quite roomy. Scattered among the furniture were large cardboard boxes with holes cut into them. Holes big enough for a child to climb inside, he figured.

And then, one of the boxes wiggled and two pinpricks of white watched from the darkness of the hole.

Ah, there they were.

“Sannnnnsssssss Papyrussssssss!” Alphys ran inside, beaming behind her glasses. “Guys! I'm here!”

The box wiggled before two bone puppies burst forth from the cardboard! Yapping , they tackled the little dinosaur to the ground. Thankfully, her several coats cushioned the collision as she fell with a squeal. She laughed and giggled, trying to fend of the attack of happy licks and nuzzles. The two whined and snuggled up against Alphys, not letting her get up off the floor. She found herself trapped under the puppies!

In the end she gathered them both up in her small arms and hugged them. “Heehee I missed you guys.” She smooched them both on top of their bony crests, avoiding the bandage still on Sans's head. They whined in response and began to purr. Sans's tail was wagging so fast it could take out a small child walking behind him. And of course, Papyrus started screaming in delight. She hugged them closer, eyes closed to fend off emotions that threatened to spill over. Her very first friends were safe now...it was almost too good to be true. But here they were!

Both Grillby and Bertram watched the interaction, both ready to jump in in case there was a problem. But...they doubted they would need too. All three kids seemed to be fine at the moment.

Then, all three children jumped up and started chasing each other other through the house. Soon the house echoed with shouts and barks as the children were well...children. They ran about until they had worn away that brief burst of energy to sit with each other once again. The brief episode only lasted a few minutes, but felt like hours to the excited kids.

The children of course, completely ignored the adults in the room. Grillby took it to be a good sign.

“You guys look so much better.” Alphys smiled, panting to catch her breath as she sat on the carpet. “You guys have your own clothes and everything now! A WHOLE house! It's so big!”

“Yeah.” Sans had changed into his humanoid form (much to Bertram's shock!). “It's great here!” He sat shoulder to shoulder with Alphys, wanting to be in contact with her at all times. “And....you're okay too, right? You're fine?”

“Of course I am! See?” She shed off the layers of coats to reveal a pink simple dress. She held out her arms to show that there were no bandages or marks of any kind. She was whole and safe. Sans gave her a look over, before nodding with a satisfied smile. “That's good...”

“And now that I know where you live, we can visit a wholeeee bunch now!” She picked up Papyrus and cuddled him, who was still a bone puppy. Papyrus purred as he got held, closing his eyes and sticking out a manifested tongue. Alphys smiled and rocked the tiny pup. "We can have more than just slumber parties then!”

“What else is there besides that?” Sans tilted his head as he scratched at his bandage.

“Well, there's dancing parties and cake parties...oh! Maybe we can go out somewhere, like to the toy store! But I'd have to ask Dad and Mister Grillby first.” Alphys stole a quick glance over at her father and Grillby, before turning back to Sans. “Are you happy here with Mister Grillby?” She dropped her voice to a whisper “Cause if not...I can bust you out again.”

“Oh! No we're happy. See, Grillby is our dad now! ” Sans smiled. “This is the best place!”

“Heehee you have a dad now too? My dad is over there!” She'll point. Sans turned to look. Wow, the adult did look a lot like his friend, but more orange and...round?

Bertram turned away from a quiet conversation with Grillby , looking to the children. He startled. The eldest of the skeleton children was staring right at him. Sans stared with his wide white pupils...before suddenly his eye sockets went pitch dark.

The older dinosaur balked at the look. The action seemed to please the skeleton enough where he turned away and back to Alphys. There, they resumed their quiet conversation.

“Don't worry about that...it is...a defense mechanism.” Grillby explained. “He is...a nervous child. He relies on...intimidation to protect himself...”

“Ah well...yes of course. That makes sense...” Bertram swallowed. He did his best to tear his gaze away from the children, remembering the 'no staring' rule.

“If anything...he is accepting you rather well...” Grillby nodded. “He hasn't entered any...outright threat displays...lets keep it that way.” There was a soft warning undertone to the sentence, that one dad to another could understand. Bertram nodded with a swallow, watching the kids in the corner of his eye.

Alphys had taken out her phone and accessed her inventory. She proceeded to dump a large pile of building blocks and legos on the floor. Picking one up, she began to show the both of the skeletons how to snap them together. Papyrus was still too young to understand the concept of legos yet. But he seemed happy enough to turn some of the more brighter colored ones in his paws and sort them into piles. Sans picked up on it rather fast and he and Alphys laid on their stomachs and began to build a city together.

“Come, you can help me with lunch...and let them have some...quiet fun alone.” Grillby nodded to the kitchen.

“Ah yes...sure.” Bertram nodded and followed the fire elemental to the kitchen. He went slow as not to bother the children. To his relief, he was pretty much ignored as the children were far too busy with building to pay him any attention. It allowed him to catch a few snippets of their conversation as he passed.

“We need TWO candy shops, Sans.”

“Why two?”

“Cause two is better than one, silly!”

Smiling, he left the children to their playing. Time to help fix lunch.

It had not been a good time for Dr.Felix.

Confined to a jail cell ever since the laboratory raid, his only companions were his thoughts. Stripped of his clothing of status, he instead wore a simple orange jumpsuit, a mark of shame. Those he could deal with, but the harassment was a different story, from guard and prisoner alike.

Once it had slipped WHY he was in jail, the harassment has reached ungodly levels. Even murderers and thieves had no pleasant words to say to him once they found out. Even worse, he couldn't even rely on the companionship of his fellow scientists. They were all separated. Where the others were he couldn't begin the fathom.

Perhaps he was being given time to reflect on his deeds and repent...but that wasn't going to work. What was there to repent for? So, he festered in silence in the cold, dark cell, waiting for something to happen.

That is, until the captain of the guard came to 'escort' him to a interrogation room.

And that's where he found himself. His hands shook as metal cuffs dug into his arms. Cuffed to the arms of the chair, there wasn't any hope of escape. To prevent any further struggle, the metal of the cuffs hummed with magic. Magical runes woven in the metal were there to block all attempts of magic from a prisoner. Even his legs met the same fate, cuffed to the legs of the chair. And the chair itself remained firm, bolted to the floor. He was utterly trapped. They were not going to take chances with him.

He stared across the bare metal table at the fish monster sitting across from him. The room was dark. The only light came from a few bare light-bulbs scattered about. Their scant bulbs cast the sterile and gray room in harsh light. It was quite....uncomfortable. Felix kept blinking, after being in the dark for so long, the light was almost unbearable as he tried to adjust.

Gnash picked at his teeth with a claw, glancing at the imprisoned scientist. He was in his full armor, his polished sword sitting in hands reach. Clearly, if Felix did manage to try something, he would regret it.

“We've watched all the tapes.” Gnash finally spoke, breaking the silence. “We read all the notes. You and the others are looking at either life sentences, or if the king decrees, the death penalty. It depends on how good of a mood he's in...and I'll tell you now. Ever since he found about about this? His mood has been pretty damn poor.”

“It doesn't matter.” Felix's voice cracked, rough from not speaking for so long. Ever since his capture, Felix has resigned to his fate. There was nothing he could do to change any of it, so why bother? In the end he was a dead man no matter what he did. All it would chance was how quick and less painful that end would be.

“It does matter. Our King has sworn to protect ALL monster kind. And that includes the children you and your bastard of a leader made and tortured. He is not happy.”

“So? Let him not be happy. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“IT MATTERS TO ME.” Gnash slammed his fists so hard on the metal table, it left dents in it's wake. The sudden display of violence shook Felix out of his cool demeanor, causing him to gape in shock.

“IT MATTERS TO YOUR VICTIMS. Two which are still alive and WILL get their justice.” Gnash sucked a breath in through his sharp gritted teeth in anger. “You're lucky you are here right now and that I follow the law. Most of my men want you tossed to the Major General. Remember him? Flames of Vengeance? He'd annihilate you to the point where they won't even be able to find your dust. If he knew where you were, there would be nothing that would be able to stop him.”

Felix took a deep breath, despite himself he was shivering.

“Despite that, there is a chance for redemption.” Gnash casually withdrew his fists and checked over the armor, making sure they weren't dented. “We need to catch your bastard of a boss, and you can help. If you do, you'll avoid the death penalty for sure. That is the most we can do."

“No...I can't.” Felix finally spoke up, swallowing thickly. When did his throat get so dry? “I can't help you.”

“We need to know where Gaster is.” The Captain looked right through the cat, his yellow eyes narrowing. “And you need to tell us NOW.”

“I DON'T KNOW where he is!” Felix backed his ears and hissed. “He never told us about any other labs or houses he has. He could be anywhere!”

“Are you sure about that?” Gnash peeled back his lips in a silent snarl. “I've looked over your files. You've been working with Dr. Gaster for years. You were even in his same graduating class. You two were close. You must know something.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.” Felix snarled back. He jerked forward in anger, stopped by the cold metal chaining him to the chair. His fur along his neck bristled from the interrogation. Seems he had found a sudden surge of bravery.

Gnash mealy regarded the feline coldly.

“Oh? And why not. He abandoned you and the rest of the team to face justice while he ran like a coward.” Gnash tapped his fingertips together as he started down the feline. “Odd, such loyalty for a...creature like that.” Gnash didn't want to quite call Gaster a man or a monster, he didn't deserve such terms anymore.

“Not so much loyalty.” Felix frowned, his ears pressed firmly against his skull.

“Ah, fear then?” Gnash leaned forward. “You know, we can protect you.”

“No...no you can't.” Felix chuckled, a bitter and deep laugh. “You can't. He can go anywhere he wants. He's a powerful mage. And, he has no conscious and only cares about the greater good...the BIG picture. What do you think he'd do to me if I spilled my guts about him? I'm surprised he hasn't killed me already. I am only a liability now.”

“But you're fine with him running loose.” Gnash quirked an eyebrow. “He's after the children, I'm sure of it, and you're saying you're are okay with that?”

“I'm fine with him doing what he needs to do.” The cat looked away.

“And that is?”

“Freeing us all.”

“Yes, free us all on the backs of tortured children. I'm sure our King would be delighted.” Gnash's voice dripped with sarcasm and withered patience.

“The King would rather us all waste away by waiting for humans to drop into our laps. At least Gaster has a proactive approach.”

“Hah! Proactive indeed! Tell me, what did he do to convince you that maiming babies was the right path to take?”

Felix grit his teeth and looked away, refusing to look the Captain in the face. He had no answer to that.

Gnash tsked. “Such a shame. A brilliant mind, wasted by following a psychopath. Keep lying to yourself enough and eventually you'll believe it. How long did it take for him to begin his experiments? You must have had an inkling of how wrong they were. We have the tapes you know...so we know about how much they screamed for help even as they turned to dust in their cages.”

Felix closed his eyes, wishing he could cover his ears and shut it all out.

“You must have felt something when you assisted Gaster in breaking their little bones. Or forcing them to train until some died of exhaustion. Or perhaps, you felt a little twinge of guilt when Gaster gave them injections. Injections that would make them scream for hours. Hours and hours of screaming. SURELY, that must have caused you some inconvenience, eh?”

“Stop.” Felix growled.

“Or how about when they started falling down or were born crippled? Gaster shoved them into tubes to prolong their suffering. Or how about cracking their heads open and messing around inside of it like you would a toy. How about the times you wouldn't feed them to measure how long they could last? Measuring how long it took for them to start dusting must have been a tough task."

“STOP.”

“How about when one of earlier children learned enough common to call Gaster 'Dadda''? And how he immediately killed them. You were there in the tape, you saw it all. That look on that poor kid's face when he pulled out the hammer-"

“STOP. STOP!” Felix roared suddenly. “SHUT UP! FOR ANGEL'S SAKE SHUT UP!”

Gnash scoffed. “Oh really now? Did I touch a nerve there, sunshine?”

“I'm done talking.” Felix leaned back, his face hard. “Take me back to my cell. I'm done.”

For a while they only stared at each other in complete silence. Gnash sighed and shrugged.

“That's fine. You don't have to talk to me. Instead, you can talk to him.” Gnash inclined his head towards the door. “A very, special guest indeed. Why, he even insisted he come talk to you and your buddies. But, we kinda wanted to keep you all alive for proper interrogation first.”

“Talk to wh-”

And then the door opened, the light washing out the figure, until they stepped forward. They had to duck, their great bulk and armor was not one made for smaller door frames. And then, stepping inside carefully to not his horns on the door-frame, was the King of monsters.

Dressed in his armor and cape, his trident clenched in his paw, the King surveyed the room. His eyes flashed blue and orange as he frowned. His aura of strong magic was enough to even make the Captain of the Royal guard flinch under it's power. King Asgore stood, regarding the disgraced scientist with both cold fury...and disappointment. It was almost like disappointing the best Dad in the world, and Felix felt his innards twist in icy discomfort.

Felix's breath caught in his throat. All bravado, all thoughts of the King being weak...a fool...died, paralyzed with fear.

Asgore walked forward, leaning down. His voice, deep and powerful, rocked with the undertones of sadness and restrained rage.

“Now....let's talk.

With two monsters helping in the kitchen, lunch was ready in record time. Grillby couldn't help but miss the children's presence as he cooked. Sometimes they liked to sit and watch, asking questions about cooking. For now though, it was important to let them catch up with their friend. Bertram proved to be a capable cook, explaining that it was just him and Alphys. SOMEBODY needed to be able to make food.

In time a simple meal found itself put together. Mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and some mixed roasted vegetables. Grillby set out glasses of milk and plates for the children. Satisfied with the placement, he went out to fetch the skeletons and dino.

And what a sight greeted him!

Sans and Alphys had on rhinestone encrusted skirts, glittery tiaras, and bows. In both their hands they had little plastic wands. Clearly, Alphys has brought plenty of items with her, including dress-up props. They were trying to stop Papyrus, who was crawling around their lego city. He stopped once in awhile to shove buildings into his mouth to chew on. He left a trail of colorful plastic collateral damage in his wake as he crawled. He babbled nonsense words as he picked up another building and started pulling it to pieces. Papyrus clearly was having the time of his life!

“Quick Sans! Use your Pup Power COSMOS ATTACK.” Alphys posed dramatically, spinning carefully to not step on a lego with her bare feet. “Or the city will be LOST!”

“Uhhhh.” Sans was clearly trying to learn this 'game' as he was going along. “Uh...uh....COSMOS ATTACK ACTIVATE! ka-powwwww! Whooshhhh!” He pointed his wand (both had hearts on the ends!) at his little brother.

Papyrus didn't seem to care. He spit out the building he was chewing on and reached over to grab another in his little hands. "Ababa Ba!"

“Pap, you're suppose to fall over!” Sans tried to whisper. “That's cheating!”

Papyrus simply started chewing on the legos again. “Bloo aaaaaahhh bab!”

“IT ISN'T WORKING! WE MUST COMBINE OUR POWERS!” Alphys went to strike another pose, before she paused. Sans looked up to see where she was looking, before breaking into a smile.

“Hi dad!”

“Hello Sans...what are you three playing?” Grillby smirked as he looked over the wreckage. Seems the building block city they were building has fallen to ruin. Papyrus of course was in the middle of it.

“We're magical girls...I think! With....with...” Sans frowned in thought, trying to remember the rest of it.

“Magical girls with superpowers we use to save the day!” Alphys chimed in. “We spin around and get wands and crowns and dresses and MAGICAL POWERS!”

“Yeah I'm a space magical girl, and Alphys is a mecha one!” Sans beamed.

“Oh I see. .” Oh no, this was too pure and innocent. Grillby's flames turned a warm golden color to reflect his mood. “And how did that go?”

“We were protecting the city but...I don't think Papyrus knows how to play too good yet.” Sans looked over at his younger brother. Said brother started smashing buildings down and scattering pieces everywhere. “He's a cheater.”

“I am sure he'll be...a more involving playmate when he is a little older.” Grillby chuckled. “Now, it is time for lunch. Little ones must eat....even magical ones.”

Grillby has spoken the magic words It seemed! Sans picked up his brother and all three children made their way to the kitchen. Being magical girls was hungry work! The mess of legos and building blocks lay scattered all over the living room floor. He would remind the children to pick them up and put them away after Lunch.

A flash of movement at the window caught his eye and breaking his current train of thoughts. When he went to look, there was nothing there.

There was a brief surge of paranoia...before he relaxed. The dogs were on the case. They were guarding the house. He had no choice but to trust them and he did. He has known the Canine guard unit since they were all puppies. All good and dedicated dogs. And if someone did manage to get through them, than they would sorely regret coming here.

With that, he left for the kitchen, prepared for whatever might happen.

After all, prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.

The Dogi crouched, hidden in the snow. They had traded in their usual black cloaks for white ones, becoming almost one with the snow around them. They were trained in the art of stealth, almost becoming one with the wilderness around them. They have stopped in their small patrol area to peek inside the house they are guarding. So far...so good. Grillby was burning brighter than he has for years. It was good to see him happy, him and the children too. They aimed to keep it that way.

They were sure that the adults knew that they were being watched.

Of course, they don't mean to cause discomfort, but they had a job to do. And that job was keeping an eye out over the family. They wouldn't put it past Gaster to attempt to retake his 'property', and if he tried, they would be able to catch him.

Dogamy glanced over at his wife. She was looking tired and he was feeling so too.

“Dear...we've been at this for a while now.” He began softly.

(“Yes. We have.”) Dogaressa's reply was short, her dark eyes scanning the area around them.

They have taken refuge in the shadow of the wood. It offered superior natural camouflage. It's position also allowed them to set up ambushes and trap if need be. Lucky for Grillby, his house was close enough to the wood to offer such natural protection.

“When Lesser and Greater come to relieve us, you are getting some sleep.” He looked over to his wife . “You haven't slept at all these past few days.”

(“How do you expect me to sleep, where there's....that thing...running around? He had no problem hurting these puppies, what makes you think he would have issue hurting the other pups in town?”)

“I know...but we're only two dogs. We have the whole canine unit out now. We can't do anything if we're too tired to fight!” Dogamy placed a paw on his wife's shoulder. “You know it, it's one of the first things they drilled into us at the academy.”

Dogaressa sighed. (“I know...I know...”)

Their conversation cut out when a low short howl echoed from town. The Dogi tilted back their heads and howled back. Two loud barks was the swift reply, drawing closer from the center of town.

Part of what made the Snowdin guard so effective is their long distant communication. In no time at all, Greater and Lesser Dog approached from the haze of snow. When they saw their two commanders, they snapped crisp salutes.

<”Lesser Reporting in!”> The shorter dog panted, his tail wagging in excitement.

<"Greater reporting in! News from the Big Captain!”> Greater loomed over the other three dogs. With his magical armor, he was the biggest and strongest out of all the canines in raw physical power.

(“Good news I hope?”) Dogaressa glanced at her husband. He looked back before squeezing her shoulder again.

<”Yes! Yes!”> Lesser vibrated, his neck extending a few inches. <”Bad scientists talked! Secret bad scientist holes are being found now!”>

“Excellent news!” Dogamy grinned. “See 'Ressa? Things are looking up.”

<”Won't be long now!”> Greater opened his small jaws in a wide doggy grin.

Dogaressa allowed herself a smile, a rare thing since the case began. (“Then I suppose you'll be taking our posts for the night?”)

Both Lesser and Greater saluted and nodded.

“Alright then, goodnight you two.” Dogamy took his wife's hand and began to lead her back to the barracks for some shuteye.

<”We will!”>

<”We'll keep our noses to the air!”>

Satisfied, the Dogi melted into the darkness and vanished from view. It was time for them to get some well deserved rest.

Lesser and Greater drew their weapons and assumed their posts. They weren't made for stealth, but their white fur and light armor helped them blend into the snow. If anyone came around, it would be clear that the house was being guarded.

There they would remain steadfast and faithful, watching over the house before them.

They are good dogs! Best dogs! Maybe if they were good, they would have time to go and visit the bone puppies! They liked the puppies! They were good dogs too!

They wagged their tails and panted, keeping a watchful eye over the house.

Good dogs!

Best dogs!

Hours had past since lunch and dinner, and the children had a blast. Of course they played some more, running around and yelling likes kids tend to do. Bertram had given the boys his gift of cookies, but to his surprise they didn’t eat a single bite. Sans briefly vanished upstairs with the box when he thought nobody was looking. When he came back down he was box-less.

Hrm.

The boys were then introduced to popcorn, anime, and dancing...in that order. Sans found that he liked the anime, but not so much the dancing. He wasn't quite used to all the noises and movement yet, and found himself getting a little anxious. Sans grew up in sterile gray walls and little to no stimulation...cartoons and music were still a little overwhelming for him.

Luckily Grillby seemed to have a sixth sense now to Sans's moods and casually suggested that they all sit down for a story. It was getting late after all, and the children were beginning to wind down. Sans and Papyrus had low energy to begin with, but even Alphys was getting tired too. To Bertram, she had played harder than she has for a long time and for once, was properly tired out.

So Grillby sat down, his flames crackling and popping gently like an old warm fireplace. He cracked open an old dog eared copy of 'Winnie-the-Pooh', a human book about little stuffed animals that lived in a wood. Like most books, it was recovered from the dump and restored at the local library.

Since taking in the kids, Grillby has found himself slipping there when he can. They had quite a few books that came from the surface about humans, but the children seemed to like them despite it.

Still a good story is a good story, no matter where it comes from.

Eventually, the stories were over and it was time to get ready for the 'slumber' part of the party. Grillby made a bed up on the couch for Bertram as the kids ran to brush their teeth and get changed for bed. Papyrus was still too young to brush his own teeth. Last time he tried he ate half a tube of toothpaste before Grillby could stop him. In time, teeth were brushed and PJ's were put on and good night's were exchanged.

And Sans was oddly excited despite his fatigue.

“Come on! It's time for bed!” He began tugging on Alphys's hand, trying to drag her to a room down the hallway.

“I know it is! Are we going to your room?” She was a little perplexed as she allowed herself to be dragged along. Papyrus had already ran ahead, seemingly eager for bed.

“Yeah! Wait till you see it!” The older skeleton could barely contain himself, his white pupils sparkling with joy. They didn't have long to go before all three were inside the room and Sans pulled back the curtains on his bed.

The lights were on and the stick on stars glowed a soft green, making Alphys gasp a little!

“This whole room is yours!?! Wow!” She looked around the toy and book filled room. It seems that the skeletons had begun to decorate themselves. Crayon doodles began to cover some lower parts of the walls along with the odd sticker or two. It felt homely. Much better than a cage that’s for sure.

“I knowwwwww! It's all ours! And we didn't have to do anything for it!” Such a concept was still a little beyond Sans, but he knew he was happy. He picked up his little brother and tossed him on the bed. Papyrus squealed and bounced on his side of the bed as Sans climbed in after him.

“Come on Alphys!” Sans beamed and held open the curtain for his friend.

“Ah! Coming!” Alphys quickly climbed aboard and Sans closed the curtain behind her.

Here in the darkness, the lights and the glow-in-the-dark stickers seemed to make the dark space into a whole other world. A warm and dark world none the less, but pleasant. Sans turned on a moon shaped touch-light and for a moment, banished away the darkness. Sans grinned, happy to finally show off something that truly belonged to him and his brother.

“Guys...this is so cool!” Alphys had ideas already on what to do with her bed when she got home. Curtains and lights were awesome!

“Heehee yeah...and if you get hungry...” Sans reached up into the wooden 'rafters' of the top bunk and pulled out the gift box of cookies. Seems that the wooden beams offered plenty of places to hide food and trinkets. Alphys could catch a glimpse of other hoarded treats now that she knew where to look. Thankfully they all seemed to be sealed in packages. She didn’t want to sleep in a crumb filled bed!

“Nah, I'm good, your dad is a good cook. I ate too much.” She giggled in response. Shrugging, Sans stuck the box back in with his other stash.

“He's the best cook.” Sans could only agree. It had taken time, but now he was able to appreciate all the new food and flavors now that he wasn't so sick anymore. Grillby had explained to him that after a period of starvation, it takes a while for someone to be able to eat well again. Luckily for Papyrus, Sans had always made sure he ate first, so his little brother wasn't burdened with such a problem.

He felt proud of himself for being able to ask for seconds today, much to his father's happiness.

“Yeah he is! I mean, my Dad is a good cook too.” She'll chuckle in response.

“I guess...Dads are just good...right?” Sans blinked.

She nodded. “Yeah! They are pretty awesome...heehee.”

For a while they sat together for a while, Papyrus crawling on them to seek attention.

“I'm...” Alphys started. “I'm glad...”

“Hrm?” Sans tilted his head, picking up his brother and cradling him on his lap.

“I'm just...so happy you guys are here now...” Alphys teared up despite herself. “I was just...so worried...”

“I know...but...it's good now right?” Sans for once, looked hopeful. “Dad said...he won't let anything happen to us...and I trust him.”

“True...Dad said that Mister Grillby is really strong.” Alphys wiped her face with a smile. “I mean, even if he doesn't look it.”

“Just what are you saying about my dad?” Sans quirked a brow ridge.

“That he's a nerrddddddddd.” The dino giggled.

“.....” Sans blinked. “What's a nerd?”

Alphys laughed and proceeded to explain the whole concept of 'nerds' to Sans and Papyrus, only to witness them slow blinking and nodding off after the five minute mark.

Well, she DOES tend to get a little long winded when explaining something.

“GOSH! Fine, I'll explain in the morning!” She giggled and grabbed the pillow she brought, laying down.

Only then to find herself pinned down by two purring bone puppies.

“NO! At least let us get under the covers first. Goshhhhh!” She struggled and giggled, trying to pull up the covers but the pups didn't want to move!

Outside of the door, Grillby listened with a smile until the laughter turned into soft snores. He wasn't quite spying, more like being a little paranoid, and wanting to be sure everyone was safe and sound. When he was sure the children were both asleep, he made his way down the stairs where Bertram was making himself comfortable on the couch.

“Thank you for staying.” Grillby began. “Are you comfortable?”

“Oh I am...thank you. And it's no problem...I mean...two adults keeping an eye out is better than one.” The elder dinosaur nodded.

“Mhmm...” Grillby walked across the room to look out the window again.

“So...still no sign of the guy...right?” Bertram pulled up the covers to his chin, but was still very much alert.

“No...but they will catch him….or I will.” Grillby sighed and closed the blinds, checking to make sure everything is locked up.

Bertram simply turned over on the couch, keeping his ear pointed towards the door. “...good night Grillby.”

“...Goodnight Bertram.” Grillby nodded, switching off the lights and making his way back to the stairs. “If you need anything, I will be upstairs. Sleep well.”

“Thank you, I'll try too.” Bertram sighed and settled down, watching as the fire elemental vanish upstairs. The absence of the fire plunged the house into darkness.

He knew that none of them will be getting much sleep that night.

Gaster stepped out of the rocky exit, frowning as his shoe crunched in the snow. So...they've run all the way out here, to the very edge of the underground? Hrm...Snowdin was still quite 'wild' after all this time, with more wilderness than town. It would make sense for beasts to seek out where they belong.

He glanced at his device, the blips on the screen pointing up to the Northwest of town near the tree cover. He was ready to step forward and continue his trek when a soft howl echoed through the cavern.

It was shortly answered by three short barks.

Ah yes, the mutt guard. Gaster wasn't a fellow who particularly liked dogs, but still admired their abilities. After all, he sought to emulate such traits in his creations, particularly the obedience and eagerness to please. But unfortunately, they have proved too willful for that. Failures, all of them.

Oh well, the E3 group should see some improvements, once he gains his experiments back. They would be the new basis for a new line, and maybe this time he will have a properly functioning group, moving up from alpha phase testing to beta phase testing.

He shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself. If he wished to regain his creations, he would need to find away around the guard. No doubt they have a special interest with his creations, due to their current puppy-like stage. And he knew better to cross such a bond unprepared.

Tsk. How unfortunate. He was already falling behind his time table with all these setbacks.

With no access to his main laboratory, he would have to start again, and he needed those two to do so. After all, does one not need a prototype before making a new version?

His musings were interrupted again by another howl and he frowned.

Well...looks like he must make a tactical retreat for now and come up with a proper plan before executing the extraction of his subjects.

He would need to find an opportunity to strike.

And thankfully, he is a patient man.

#trust #keetah writes #baby blaster au #gasterblaster au #undertale #fanfiction #sans #grillby #papyrus #alphys #gaster #babyblaster au #next chapter is going to be a doozy #happy valentines day to everyone #after one million years i rise from my grave

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