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lynne-monstr · 4 years

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Writers Month 2019: Day 17: Accidental Baby Acquisition (malec)

requested by anonymous

(note that i cannot write children so no actual human babies will appear in this.)

summary: In the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Magnus only hopes Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about the cause of his death. He knows for a fact more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

ao3 link

“Alec, no!” Magnus lunges, grabbing Alec’s sword arm before he can attack.

Alec twitches beneath his hand but doesn’t shake him off. Later, Magnus will marvel that he’s learned to trust Alec so deeply he'd put himself in the path of a Nephilim weapon without hesitation. But that’s a thought for later. For now, he’s more concerned about what he’s come home to.

It had been such a nice date night, but it already feels like a distant memory.The perils of being a powerful warlock with an equally powerful boyfriend.

All the lights in the loft are off save for the entranceway at their backs. In front of them, the living room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city’s light pollution filtering in from the balcony windows. Everything is wreathed in shadow. Magnus feels the weight of his glamour dropping and the room sharpens into the full spectrum of night. Which is when he sees it. In the darkened depths of the living room, there’s a darker smudge under the coffee table.

He and Alec aren’t alone.

There’s something in the room with them, lying in wait beneath the furniture. Magnus tastes the air and the hair on the back of his necks stands up. With his natural vision, he can see what his instincts warned him of, what Alec saw with his heightened Shaowhunter senses. There’s a creature pressed tight against the far leg of the coffee table. But he also sees why he stopped Alec’s attack. The creature is huddled as far away as it can get without leaving the shelter of the furniture.

It isn’t attacking, or preparing an ambush. It’s cowering.

Something that feels like a memory curdles in Magnus’ stomach. He hates to see anyone or anything cower.

Beneath his grip, the muscles of Alec’s forearm twitch. He shifts on the balls of his feet but doesn’t interfere. Warmth expands in Magnus’ chest. Alec’s battle instincts must be screaming but he’s willing to yield to Magnus’ expertise in this particular area.

Edom.

There’s an Edomei in their home.

The Edomei is curled into a ball of pitch-black scales. Its very presence warps the light around it, making the space under the coffee table darker than it should rightfully appear. A pair of equally black wings shoot from the creature's back. The wings look wrong—crooked and grotesque, deformed and hanging in ways that make Magnus shift in discomfort.

“It’s injured.” Alec’s voice is soft, though his body remains a coiled spring. “What’s it doing here?” he adds, keeping his voice low, as if the thing can understand English.

Maybe it can. Magnus has never looked too deeply into the native inhabitants of his homeland aside from strengths, weaknesses, and hunting patterns. The only thing he knows about these creatures is how to kill them.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I invited it over for drinks,” Magnus whispers back. He swallows down the rising dread at the reminder of the place he once called home. He’d prefer to forget this part of his heritage but here it is, not even on his doorstep but inside his home.

Alec, his wonderful Alexander, attempts to lighten the mood. “Well, you did once tell me you made the best cocktails in North America. Maybe word spread.”

Magnus lets out a silent huff, and gives Alec’s arm a squeeze. It never fails to amaze him that Alec can read him so well. He clings to the comfort as he makes his decision on what to do with his uninvited guest. His logical mind says to kill it. The rest of him balks at the thought of killing a child. Because that’s what this is, a tiny, young Edomei that somehow found its way to his loft.

Slowly, he releases his grip on Alec and takes a tentative step forward.

The Edomei under his coffee table backpedals in a flurry of wings. It makes it about three steps before listing off balance, stumbling onto its side with a pained cry. Its wings flap uselessly and a thready screech fills the air.

Magnus is moving before he can convince himself what a terrible idea this is.

“It’s okay,” he says, walking forward with small, tentative steps.

It was never really a decision at all. A child is a child, regardless of species. He only hopes that in the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about his cause of death. He knows for a fact that more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

Behind him, Alec keeps pace, hovering at his shoulder. His unsheathed blade glints in the evening light but he doesn’t raise it.

As Magnus gets closer, he can hear the Edomei breathing in weak squeals. Its scaled chest continues to heave, faster and faster as he kneels beside it, a string of nonsense reassurances spilling from his lips in the same low, hushed tones that work well on all types of children.

Around them, the loft is perfectly still.

The eyes that meet Magnus’ gaze are deep red with no pupil but he gets the sense of being studied by a predator. A very small one in need of help, but a predator nonetheless. Magnus doesn’t flinch. This tiny Edomei is hardly the only predator in the room.

After a beat, it lowers its head.

The urge to let out a breath is palpable but Magnus resists. No showing weakness now or it may be the last thing he does.

He leans in for a closer look. The small dragon-like creature isn’t just dark in color but filthy. Caked between the scales are layers upon layers of dirt and grime. Magnus wrinkles his nose. It must have dragged itself through half the gutters of Brooklyn in search of shelter.

“Alright, let’s patch you up. This rug is a lost cause but we can still salvage the hardwood if we work fast.” There’s no response, which is a shame but ultimately not a surprise. He’s not sure if it’s because the Edomei doesn’t understand human language, or because the denizens of his father’s realm don’t have a sense of humor. Either is equally likely.

Raising a hand, he prepares to summon a ball of magic to his aid.

“Magnus be careful,” Alec interrupts before he can cast the spell. He’s in a defensive stance at Magnus’ shoulder, blade poised to plunge into the Edomei’s heart at the slightest provocation. “You don’t know why it’s here. It could kill us both the moment you heal it.”

They both remember the battle at the beach, the sheer amount of devastation even a single Edomei can wreak. Even a small one—practically a baby, Magnus realizes with an ache—is incredibly dangerous.

“It’s a child, Alexander. It’s here because it has nowhere else to go.”

Alec’s eyes go a little bit soft, his blade slowly lowering though he doesn’t drop his guard. His Alexander has always had a soft spot for the young.

“It must have come through that portal and escaped detection all this time. Unsurprising, considering its size. When it got hurt and tried to go home, the portal no longer existed and there was no magic for it to follow back to Edom. I suppose it found my magic instead and traced it here.” Magnus swallows down the memories of filthy alleys and rancid food and the absolute knowledge that no one in the world cared for him enough to save him. “An easy mistake to make, considering where my magic comes from.”

A warm hand settles on his shoulder. “You’re nothing like him, Magnus.”

“I know,” he says, and isn’t that something, that those are words he can say without a hint of sarcasm.

He spent his entire life doubting, convinced that there was no atoning for the sins of his past. He still has his moments of weakness, but he can’t deny the impact of Alec’s stalwart acceptance. In this moment, he’s intensely, absurdly grateful that he trusted Alec enough to take that leap and tell him of his heritage. To trust the man he loves with his most closely guarded and shameful secret.

Alec’s hand falls away and Magnus doesn’t need to look to know he’s readying himself for a fight if things go wrong. “Do what you have to do. I’ll cover you.”

Before he can regret his choice, Magnus sends out a stream of magic into the Edomei’s mangled wings.

This time, the creature’s cry is pure excitement. The moment the last of the hollow bones knit together, it launches itself into the air, circling the remnants of magic coming off Magnus’ fingers. Magnus nearly blasts it but years of helping untrained warlocks control their magic stays his hand.

Alec steps in close but doesn’t attack, still following Magnus’ lead.

Following a hunch, Magnus shoots out a few harmless sparks. The the Edomei flies after it, landing in a tangle of wings on the far end of Magnus’ couch. It bounces on the cushion, trying to grab at the dancing points of bright blue magic. When that doesn’t work it breathes out a tiny jet of fire, no larger than the flickering flame of a lighter. Magnus presses his lips together, not wanting to laugh and scare the creature. His resolve nearly breaks when he looks over at Alec, whose eyes are wide, a lopsided smile painted across his face as he watches what should be a fearsome beast pounce on bits of magic.

“My poor couch,” Magnus laments with a frown, sending out a couple more bursts of magic. Some of it races around the Edomei, the rest erases the tiny burn marks from the upholstery. At the same time he he spares a burst of power to gradually brighten the lights in the room. He's getting tired of not seeing in color.

Alec presses his lips together but can’t hide his amusement. “We’re keeping it, aren’t we?” The words are resigned but there’s a hopeful tone in his voice that tells Magnus he’s just as enamored with their unexpected visitor as Magnus is. His voice turns contemplative as he adds, “I wonder why this one is so different than the others.”

“Well, we did save it. Maybe it’s grateful,” Magnus says, though he’s not convinced at his own glib answer.

“Or maybe there’s nothing inherently evil about being from Edom,” Alec replies, pointedly. “Maybe the other Edomei were taught how to be destructive and this one never learned how to hurt people.”

Magnus can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses Alec. Just a light press of lips but enough to let him know how much his words mean.

They both tense for a split second when the Edomei flies at them but it merely settles on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It needs a name,” Alec says, watching the two of them with a fond expression that’s usually reserved for Magnus himself.

“He needs a name,” Magnus corrects. He considers whether or not to be jealous of Alec’s affection and decides against it. The Edomei is adorable, after all.

As if it can sense his thoughts, his new shoulder companion gives another happy noise and plops it’s head down to rest in what was until that very moment a perfectly styled hairdo.

Mischief lights up Alec’s face, now clearly visible in the well lit room. “How about Michelangelo, since he’s clearly a master artisan.” He points to Magnus’ hair, which has become a birds-nest in an almost literal sense. “And now the next time you try to tell me you shared quarters with Michelangelo, it will actually be true.” One corner of his mouth turns up, clearly pleased with himself.

Magnus pretends to pout. “Are you insulting my flirting?” He still remembers the look of confusion that pickup line had earned him from Alec in those early days. Nothing like the smile that lights up his face now, or the warm glint in his eyes that Magnus can feel all the way down to his bones. He pretends to pout, for old time’s sake. “Fine, but if he tries to crawl into our bed at night, you have only yourself to blame.”

Alec grins in satisfaction. “Michelangelo it is.”

The Edomei kneads its claws into the expensive fabric of Magnus’ silk shirt. Magnus grumbles about Versace but his heart isn’t in it. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

The tiny creature flaps its wings, stretching out its long neck and letting out a high-pitched honking noise completely at odds with its small frame. Magnus assumes it’s some form of agreement and scratches its belly in reassurance.

It looks like there were going to be three of them in the loft for the foreseeable future.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #lynne writes fic #writersmonth2019 #i've had this in my drafts for so long and i finally untangled the mess of it!#sorry for no babies in this fic but that is not a thing i can do #i can however do baby animals!

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