Okay so like...maybe I'm a bad person for leaving off like last time?

BUT TO MAKE UP FOR IT There's a lot of cuteness and protectiveness and JAZZ in this chapter!

And alcohol.

More alcohol.

But anyways! Let's get on with it!

And with the gentlest touch Alec had ever felt, Magnus kissed him.

It was like a dozen live wires had lit on Alec's lips. He couldn't find the energy in his paralyzed chest to draw air and instead gripped Magnus tighter. It was like they were two pieces—two utterly broken pieces—that fit their cold, jagged edges together and then melted into one solid piece.

Magnus broke away first, just when Alec's head had begun to spin from lack of oxygen. Still in the dip, Magnus cocked his head and smiled.

"My dear, I do believe you've just invented a new shade of red," he teased lightly. Alec shut his eyes and jumped up, ducking under Magnus's outstretched arm. He just—he actually kissed me kept spinning in Alec's head.

"Wait! Alexander, don't run out again!" Magnus cried, reaching out and grabbing Alec's arm. But the Shadowhunter had had no intentions of running. He wouldn't run this time. So he put his shoulders back and turned back to Magnus. The warlock didn't remove his hand, but his grip slackened.

And Alec smiled. And as he smiled, he took a step closer and stretched up and kissed Magnus back. Magnus was stunned, but didn't fight it and put his hands on Alec's waist, pulling his body in closer. Alec's arms went around Magnus's neck as their lips glided together and their bodies became one. Magnus kept one hand cupped around Alec's hip and took the other to his chin, tipping his head up and deepening it. Alec's hand went and knotted in Magnus's hair and the warlock let out a groan deep in his chest, his nails biting into Alec's hip.

The Shadowhunter shivered as Magnus parted his lips and bit his lower lip suddenly. He gasped against Magnus's mouth and the warlock growled, "Don't pull my hair or I won't be able to control myself."

Alec's insides liquefied. His hands began to shake and he pulled himself tighter against Magnus's lithe, muscled body. But he was the one, yet again, to pull back, his eyes gleaming.

"You have yet to say a word, Alexander," Magnus breathed, moving his mouth against his contoured cheek and back to his ear. Goosebumps rose on Alec's skin as the exhalation of his next words echoed in the hollow of his ear. "Come now, tell me what you think of this unknown or otherwise shifty Downworlder now."

"Magnus," Alec whispered hoarsely, and he wasn't sure what he had planned to say next, but what came out was, "Kiss me again—please." His hands tightened around the collar of Magnus's leather jacket. "Please."

Magnus's slim hand came up and cradled Alec's cheek. His eyes were soft and full of an emotion Alec had only seen when his sister looked up at him—raw, unadulterated love. Alec wanted to cry, but Magnus stalled that train of thought by leaning in again, stealing kiss after kiss until Alec forgot how long they were standing there, until they were interrupted by Magnus breaking away with a sudden shout and a step backwards.

Alec took two back, heart suddenly throbbing. Did I hurt him? Did I do something wrong? Oh Angel, please tell me I didn't do something—

"Chairman!" Magnus growled, spinning in an awkward circle. The kitten was latched onto the back of Magnus's white denim jeans, his claws digging into Magnus's thigh. In a flash of blue magic, the kitten was levitating and then dropped into Magnus's arms.

Alec couldn't help it. He cracked up laughing.

He laughed so hard his stomach began to cramp and he doubled over, clutching his sides, laughing harder than he had ever laughed in his life. Magnus was staring at him in slight alarm, absently petting Chairman. The kitten gnawed on his finger.

"Alexander?" Magnus asked. "Are—Are you okay?"

In truth, Alec was more okay than he had ever been in his life. He had just had his first kiss—he had found someone who loved him who he could love back—he was finally beginning to feel confident in his own skin—hell, Alec was ready to go dancing!

They made it to The Underworld around nine o'clock. While Alec still refused to call it a date or even define their relationship—is it a relationship? Are we a couple now? Is this what couples do?—he sat closer than usual to Magnus in the cab and even instructed the cabbie to drop them off a block from the club so they could walk together it the cool evening air.

Magnus, on Alec's left as they walked, was incredibly happy with the way things were progressing. He had been scared when Alec had ducked out of their embrace that he was going to run again. But the last thing he had expected—the very last thing—was Alec kissing him again. Much less, the two of them continuing to kiss for the next four hours.

He was not, however, going to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes.

They approached the front of the nightclub and found a long line of Downworlders curling from the front of the bar and winding around the corner. Alec frowned, stopping in his tracks.

"Wow, Magnus, we're going to be in line forever," he said nervously. Magnus laughed and strode ahead of Alec.

"Come now, Upworlder, you don't think I planned for this?" he replied coolly, walking on the street side of the velvet rope. "We are plus-ones!" Alec jogged to keep up. Several of the Downworlders in line looked at Magnus with a glance of recognition, and then their gazes fell upon Alec. Upon his Marks. Upon the bow and quiver on his back, and the stele at his hip. And their stare became very cold.

Alec felt himself withdrawing into his shell again. He rushed up to Magnus's side and heard a snarl from a vampire as his shoulder brushed Magnus's.

"This wasn't a good idea," he muttered, his hair falling back in front of his eyes. Another growl of, "What's that doing here?" and Magnus stopped and turned.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, loudly enough that several heads turned and even the bouncer, several feet ahead, straightened. He raised one hand to the walkie talkie clipped to his collar and said something quietly. It was a male vampire that had spoken, and he easily rivaled Magnus in height. His shoulders were wide and his pale skin was stark against his black hair.

"I asked, Bane," he growled, "why you brought a daylight-walker to our club."

"Well, by that accusation," Magnus stated, his eyes flaring dangerously, "I shouldn't be allowed here either—as I am, too, a 'daylight-walker'."

"You know what he means, warlock," a female vampire hissed. "A Shadowhunter. A Nephilim. An Upworlder."

"A Nephilim who happens to hold a spot on the Clave." Magnus was startled to hear Alec speak up from behind his shoulder. He turned, and saw him with his chin in the air and his jaw set, his shoulders back and a general air of sudden authority around his six-foot stature.

The vampire's sneer faltered. "On the Clave?"

"And on the Accords Council," Alec replied, striding forward until his was brushing the velvet rope, one hand resting seemingly innocently on the seraph blade at his hip, but his grip was white on the hilt. "And the last time I checked, anything you were plotting to do, say, or orchestrate would be violating said Accords." And with a defiant smirk, Alec added, "And I believe—correct me if I'm wrong"—this was thrown over his shoulder at a stunned, startled Magnus—"I believe that I have every right to be here. Not because I'm a Nephilim, but because I do not see anything that forbids me from entering!"

The vampire closed his mouth and satisfied himself with a hiss. Alec turned his back and Magnus was almost proud. But the vampire moved—it was such a minute movement that he almost didn't catch it. He was crouching. He was going to spring. Right at Alec's turned back.

"Alexander!" Magnus warned, raising one hand, magic at the ready, but a flash of gray was faster. Before Alec could turn, even with his heightened speed, the vampire was frozen in place, the snarl creasing his lips. Only his eyes moved, and they were wide and fearful, oddly humorous combined with his threatening grimace.

"Any guest here is a friend of mine," a powerful voice boomed, "Nephilim or not. You would do well to remember that, Jax."

Recognizing the voice immediately, Magnus turned and let a grin split his lips. "Maddox!" he exclaimed, holding out his arms in greeting. The other warlock approached and gripped Magnus's upper arms in his own hands, smiling just as wide.

"Magnus Bane," he said, leaning in to place a kiss on each one of Magnus's cheeks in greeting. He had a thick accent that Alec couldn't identify—something old and European—and his green eyes were kind. "It has been far too long since you have graced my club with your presence! Pardon me—allow me to take care of this."

He turned, waving his hand. The vampire was released and he staggered backwards, growling and clenching his hands. The warlock named Maddox raised his fine eyebrows.

"Batt," he said, and the bouncer—a werewolf, Alec realized—made an affirmative noise. "Tonight, do not allow Jax or any of his comrades enter into my club. I will not tolerate any fighting, bickering, slurs, or otherwise antagonizing of my guests, Jax. You should know that. Now—leave, or I will have Batt escort you back to the Dumort."

"But—," Jax began, looking outraged. Maddox raised a hand again, smoking gray magic swirling threateningly between his fingers. The vampire hissed and ducked the rope. The female and three other vampires followed, and they stole off into the night with glowering glances back.

"I'm very sorry," Magnus apologized. "We didn't intend to cause trouble, Maddox."

"Ah, it is no problem, my dear friend," the warlock replied, holding out a hand to Alec. "Maddox Pride," he introduced himself, "High Warlock of Phoenix, and sole owner of the Underworld."

Alec eyed him for a moment before shaking hands.

"Alec Lightwood," he replied, appreciating Maddox's strong grip. "Of the New York Institute. Pardon my asking—but if you are the High Warlock of Phoenix—why are you in New York?"

"Ah, vacation," he said airily, waving a hand. "What is ten years when you have been alive for thousands?"

"Thousands?" Alec echoed, a bit of awe in his voice. I've never met a warlock this old. I've never heard of a warlock this old. I have to talk to him more!

"We can chat inside," Magnus said, putting his arm through Alec's. The Shadowhunter blushed but didn't pull away. "The night chill is getting to me." He coughed delicately. Maddox laughed and turned, beckoning them to follow. Batt unhooked the rope and nodded jovially to Magnus and Alec as they passed, tailing Maddox.

The club inside was dark, with lots of flashing lights and booming music. Alec's lips parted as he stared around. It was so much bigger than Pandemonium. The building outside had looked the same size if not smaller than Pandemonium—definitely not this much bigger. He dimly felt Magnus's arm slide out of his as they wound past a table.

There was a long bar with a blue-skinned faerie working it. He was chatting with another faerie, and every now and then they would laugh. The deejay was a vampire, with a white beanie on his head and a pair of heavy headphones set over his ears. His head was bobbing in time to the music as he fiddled with a soundboard in front of him. A large cluster of disco balls of various sizes was dangling from the ceiling, with lasers and multicolored spotlights bouncing off of them as they spun. The floor was full of bodies—vampires, werewolves, fey, Alec even saw another Shadowhunter but didn't have time to get in a good look to recognize him—writhing and dancing to the beat of the music. He heard a splash, like someone dropping a large pitcher of water, and turned, only to find himself face-to-face with a mermaid hanging half-out of a tank, her long blue-green tail flicking in the water. She was humming to herself and reached out a hand to touch Alec's hair as he went by. He ducked away and hurried to catch up with Magnus.

There were several tables with chairs scattered around, long couches and plush armchairs, some empty, some with alcohol glasses and bottles on them, long abandoned and forgotten. He saw a werewolf pull a giggling vampire girl into a curtained off section in the back, and he tipped his head warily.

"Private rooms," Magnus said, his voice almost lost in the throbbing of the music. "Mainly used by intoxicated persons who wish to do the dirty."

Alec's brow furrowed. "Doesn't that violate some part of the Accords?" he asked, half to himself, wracking his brain, trying to remember.

"Not necessarily." It was Maddox who replied. "Since vampires are infertile, there is no chance of creating a half-breed between them and anyone else, and we don't have to worry about faeries creating offspring with anyone—they're far too haughty to associate sexually with anyone who is not a fey." He smiled. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did Magnus not bring you out to relax? Forget work, Shadowhunter. This club is for those who are overworked to have a good time."

Alec wasn't sure whether or not to be offended, and merely stared.

"Let me get you two a drink," Maddox continued, gesturing to a small table in an enclosed corner of the bar. With a flick of his fingers, three tall glasses settled into place on the carved mahogany table, with a plate of hors-d'oeuvres beside each glass. The cups filled themselves with a swirling pink and gold liquid, and Magnus eagerly picked one up. Maddox took one as well.

"Ah—your blend?" he asked with a quick sniff.

"So time has not dampened your memory, I see!" Maddox teased lightly. "Yes, my friend, my blend of several kinds of wine and my own elixir. If you ask me, I feel it gives it a bit of…" He brought five fingers to his lips and pulled them back quickly, making a sort of kissing nose. "Je ne sais quoi, if you will."

Magnus put it away eagerly and held out the glass. Maddox laughed and refilled it with the flick of a finger. During this exchange, Alec was able to get a good, studious look at the High Warlock of Phoenix.

He had emerald green eyes and long white hair that was pulled back into a ponytail at the back of his head. He was as tall as Magnus—although Magnus was in platforms so he was probably naturally taller. He had the lithe build that Alec had begun to associate with warlocks, but Maddox was significantly muscular—not 'ripped' in an ugly way, but he had an obvious swell to his shoulders and biceps that Alec rarely saw outside of werewolves and Nephilim. He had on a black suit with an electric blue tie, two rings on his right hand and one on his left, and Alec's heightened senses saw a bulge under his overcoat where there was probably a weapon of some sort stored.

But what was his warlock mark?

Maddox caught him staring. "Can I help you?" he asked, not unkindly. Magnus, who was now staring intently at his glass, attempting to make a fourth cup of the wine appear, heard this and looked up at Maddox, then followed his gaze to Alec. The Shadowhunter was bright red again and his mouth opened but no sound came out.

Maddox's eyes flashed. Then he smiled. "Ah, my mark," he concluded. Magnus smiled, raising a hand to his mouth to hide it as Alec turned a flustered gaze on him. He had forgotten about his signature magic—thought notification, Maddox called it jokingly, but Magnus knew better. He was a master of psychic magic. That was how he knew how to stop confrontations before they began. He could tell when they were stewing.

I'll explain to him later, Magnus noted in his head. Maddox shrugged off his coat and straightened his shoulders. Alec audibly gasped and took a step backwards, for Maddox Pride, master of psychic magic, High Warlock of Phoenix, had just unfurled two large, leathery, dragon's wings.

"Not subtle, I know," Maddox said with an airy laugh, folding them back in and rubbing one absently. "And although I wish they did, they do not give me the power to fly."

Magnus tipped his head. "Have they grown, Maddox?" he inquired. Of course, it had been two-hundred years since they had last been uncurled in front of Magnus, but he could have sworn they were barely past his shoulders then.

Maddox nodded. "I spoke to the Warlock Elder a while ago to ask," he explained as Alec made a quick, silent circle around the warlock, mouthing to himself as he examined the wings. "He said as my magic power grows, so will my wings."

"Shouldn't your power have topped out by now?" the cat-eyed warlock asked. Alec was back at his side in a flash, looking in the wineglass in confusion. Magnus glanced down and swore. Instead of more wine, his subconscious had willed in hot chocolate (complete with whipped cream).

Maddox laughed and fixed it with a hand flick, the movement of which blended into him replacing his suit jacket. "Well now," he said, purposely evading Magnus's question, "I'll leave you two to enjoy your night." He bowed slightly at the waist, one arm crossed at his abdomen. "If you require more wine, Magnus dear, I'll hear you," he added with a wink.

Not one to be outdone, Magnus let go of the glass, letting it levitate, and bowed extravagantly, one arm going across his abdomen like Maddox, the other held forward in a twisting motion, one foot behind the other. It was a gaudy cross between a pirouette and a bow. "Of course, O Great and Powerful Phoenix," he teased, using their old nickname.

The green-eyed man chuckled. "I lied, my dear Magnus, I think that's enough wine for you," he teased, and with a final civil wave to Alec, he turned and disappeared through a back door. Magnus straightened, laughing to himself as the cup landed back in his palm. He turned to Alec and found him spinning the liquid in the wineglass around.

"Take a drink, my dear," he said. "It's a wonderful blend. Fruity and spicy, with just a kick of a nutty aftertaste."

Alec raised his eyebrows. "That sounds a bit like a peanut butter sandwich."

"I don't know what kind of spicy PBJs you're eating," Magnus commented, "but I do believe I would like to try one."

The Shadowhunter cast him a withering look but smiled anyway. He picked up the glass and drank it, slowly at first, and then closed his eyes and inhaled the rest. He had barely put it down again before it refilled.

Magnus frowned down at his own wineglass, once again empty. I want more, he thought fiercely, willing it to fill. It did fill, but with water.

"Ah, damn you!" he shouted to no one in particular, making Alec jump and almost spill the second cup brought to his lips. "I'm not an alcoholic! I can handle my wine!"

The water remained unchanged.

Alec removed the glass from his lips and watched it refill. "It just keeps coming, doesn't it?" he joked lightly. "I do like it," he conceded to Magnus. The warlock set his own glass down and turned his gaze to the dance floor. His eyes narrowed, he decided he didn't like this music and held out a hand. Sparks appeared at his fingertips, and the rock faded out to be replaced by a jaunty jazz swing.

"There we go!" he exclaimed, grabbing Alec's hand and this time pulling him close. Alec was glad he had just put away the third—or the fourth? Maybe he shouldn't have kept drinking—glass and it had barely started to refill. He hardly had time to set it down before being dragged away with Magnus.

Several Downworlders had stopped, looking up at the deejay, who was just as confused as the rest of them, but then a circle appeared in the middle of the floor and heads turned. Magnus nudged his way to the front to look. An unfortunate, apologizing Alec was dragged along.

Two vampires—the girl in a short dress and the guy in just a button-up and black skinny jeans—were in the middle of a quick, laughing swing dance. As he spun and dipped her, he called, "Come now! Those of us who lived through the twenties—you cannot tell me you do not know how to swing!"

There was a pause before another couple vampires joined them, and even a shy werewolf couple. The Shadowhunter Alec had seen before—not anyone he recognized—was dragged into the middle by an excited vampiress. And before he knew it, Magnus was doing the same.

Alec gasped as Magnus pulled him in close, one arm around his waist, Alec's hand in his other. His free hand landed lightly on Magnus's shoulder. The warlock's eyes gleamed and he was smiling broadly.

"Just like at home," he insisted, and pulled Alec with him through the steps of the Charleston. Alec stumbled a little and tensed.

"Magnus, I don't know what I'm doing!" he gasped as the warlock spun him, stumbling and shy as more and more Downworlders joined in.

"Just mirror me" was the reply, and Alec felt no more confident. But learning to fight with Jace taught him one thing if it taught him anything—think on your toes, and work with each other, not against each other. Copy the other's movements because in a battle, you won't have time to convey a strategy.

So Alec, his gaze going from Magnus to the other couples and back, was soon gliding, stepping, and swinging as easily as the rest.

"A natural," Magnus replied with a wink, making Alec grin, and they gripped hands as they swung away from each other and then back. Magnus pulled him into the step they had done in the apartment, and this, Alec fell into easily. This time, however, when Magnus dropped him into the dip, Alec grabbed Magnus's collar and pulled him down too, kissing him.

The warlock was stunned at the forwardness and the quickness of the kiss, as Alec let him go almost as soon as he had grabbed him, but the Shadowhunter popped back up and they spun again. Alec had a grin on his face and his eyes were sparkling mischievously.

He dropped a wink.

This time, it was Magnus's turn to stumble.

"Careful, warlock!" Alec teased, skipping around him and spinning him so they were face to face. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so confident, so loose, so free. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Looking back on the events of that day, it was probably the alcohol.

But they were both having the time of their lives, and neither was willing to question it.

Well—not until later, at least.

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