A/N: I'm back with a gay fanfic. I was inspired by the song Treasure by Bruno Mars and I immediately thought of Magnus and Alec and their confusing love story. This is all human, though. Bear with me. I'll try writing another one where they're in their most natural forms.

Magnus

My head hurts. What I want right now is to put my head down and sleep. Or swallow an entire bottle of ibuprofen. What I don't want right now is to face the computer and write an effing journal about poetry.

These bouts of headaches come and go, unpredictable if not annoying. They seem to come around early in each month, sort of like my itch attacks during the start of every season.

Horrible. Utterly, without a doubt, horrible.

I want to lie down on my sort-of-but-not-really memory foam bed. I want to snuggle under my bird comforter and pretend I'm an unborn chick waiting to be hatched.

At times like this, I simply want to do nothing. If not nothing, at least something that would require little to no work on my part.

I'm sleepy. I'm hungry. I'm craving meat and a bed like a sexually frustrated meat fanatic who hasn't slept in several days.

I don't want to face the monitor of virtual reality; I want to face the virtual reality of my dreams.

I seriously want to obliterate the Internet.

My head still hurts. Ibuprofen did not help. (You have earned my distrust, Advil!) Sleep was a bitch. Did not come, the tease.

Meat was not helpful. I ate an entire clump of celery with peanut butter, and still, celery did not suck the energy out of me. You had one job, celery! We were supposed to do a trade, my energy for your ability to deprive me of it!

Tea. I need tea.

Sweet, merciful God. Tea has saved my life.

The hated headache has dissipated and for once, I'm not on the verge of bursting into violent, irrational rage. I swear my vision was tainted blood-red, almost as if I was looking through the eyes of that red sunglasses guy from X-Men. (I'm sorry, but I'm not an ardent follower of what's popular in American pop culture.)

I was a suicide bomber, dripping in sweaty desperation, walking with fake normalcy pasted in my face.

I wanted tea, as much as the suicide bomber wanted faulty justice. I wanted relief from the pain of my headache. (Need I say it for a fourth time?)

A few hours ago, I left my apartment to find a place that serves tea since I was out of tea.

I entered a random café, ordered a random cup of tea, and found a seat in the far corner of the shop and dropped my head down. Once the teacup came, I downed it within seconds, also got burned within seconds. I commanded the waiter who served me to get me an entire pot of the tea I just chugged.

He just stood there, staring at me blankly yet looking every inch a cutie. I flashed him the look of an arrogant aristocrat of power.

He shifted his feet uncomfortably and finally he left to get that gracious teapot, after throwing over his broad shoulders a concerned expression.

Concern? For the great Magnus Bane? What a joke.

Alec

I've always painted my life with dark, cool colors. Even in the summer, I'm always clad in midnight hues while the people around me cover themselves in bright hues.

I stand out quite easily. Even without meaning to.

Even my eyes are the color of the night, riddled with flakes of pale snow, cool yet burning pools of the midnight sky.

Not really. They're blue; despite how my sister Isabelle describes my eyes with her poetic tongue. That is, if she ever had one.

I bet you're painting me as a cold, indifferent man. I am, on the outside. I can be warm with people I'm comfortable to be around. I can be thoughtful to people who actually needs attention.

This morning, my cold, indifferent façade broke.

When I woke up this morning, I was anticipating another cold, boring day in the café. I already have the atmosphere in my mind; I could feel the excitement of boiling tea leaves and making tea cakes. I was ready to drown in the enticing perfumes of the tea leaves.

I almost fell apart when I had to take the order of the drunken hobo who was dying in the deepest, darkest corner of the café. You should have seen my face; disgust twisted the contours of my face into icy, sharp angles.

One of the disadvantages of living in the city is to be forced to mingle with drunks. Hate it. Even though I am not yet of legal age, I refuse to drink even one drop of alcohol. I had a near-death first impression of one drunken dude. That guy pretty much destroyed the so called "joyful effects" of drinking alcohol to me.

So when I had to bring back the entire teapot to that man, I wanted to bash his head on the metal table he was nursing his head on. While I was holding the teapot, I was listing ways I could destroy his dignity.

I came up with 23 ways, all bloody violent.

"Sir," I said stiffly, while putting down the teapot in front of him. "Here's your tea." Without even waiting for his thanks, I turned to walk away to my next customer.

"Wait."

I closed my eyes, willed myself to stop from grunting. I turned back. "Yes?"

The drunk, no longer moping pathetically with his dark head down, had his head up, his weird colored eyes glittering expressionlessly at me. His eyes were a weird, almost inhuman, mixture of yellow and green.

"Can I get some sandwiches too?"

Huh? "Sure. What else?"

"Sugar. Milk, too."

I nodded. "That all?"

He pursed his lips, thinking for a second. "A second cup, if you please."

No, it doesn't please me. I nodded again, my feet almost rushing to the kitchen, as if I couldn't wait to get out of there.

Magnus

Goodness. Look how the hottie sprint away from me. I thought he was concerned with me?

I continued to stare after him, even after he disappeared from sight. I sighed loudly and rubbed a hand on my face.

My headache was coming back, so I poured myself another cup of tea. I was almost done with the cup when he came back, holding a tray filled with a plate of tea cakes, a bowl of sugar cubes, a tiny pitcher of milk, and a second teacup, complete with a saucer and spoon.

I watched his hands unload the items on my table. His skin was a touch on the pale side, but it looked tan because of the sunlight coming through the glass window. His fingers were long, lean, a pianist's fingers if I may so.

My eyes traveled upwards to his bare forearms. I watched the arm muscles ripple as he grabbed the teapot and poured me another cup.

Upper… The two upper buttons of his white shirt were open, exposing his prominent collarbone.

More… I watched the tendons of his neck twist, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the slight clench of his sharp jaws, his pale pink tongue dart out and wet his pink lips, the way his luminous blue eyes ignited as he looked at me. Into me.

Fuck. He's exactly my ideal type.

He held the tray by his right side, waiting for me to say something.

I shouldn't say this, but… "Join me." I motioned my left hand to the seat across from me.

The hottie's eyes flashed something (irritation?) but it disappeared quickly. "I'm flattered, but no thanks," he answered brusquely, his voice deep and masculine.

Shit. "No, I insist."

He opened his mouth, his tongue ready to form N, but I interrupted him again. "Sit," I commanded. "Make yourself comfortable."

He finally sat down, not without flashing me a heated glare. I grinned, almost giddy. As I sipped my tea, I watched him pour his own with the
second cup, add one sugar, a dash of milk, and stirred.

Why his preparing of his own tea aroused me, I have no idea. Maybe it's because he's exactly my type. He'll probably run away if I said that aloud.

I watched, and watched, and watched. Nothing, not a single What's-wrong-with-you reaction, came out from his lovely mouth. I was disappointed.

I sighed, disappointment creeping in. How could he have that face and be so utterly boring? What am I even thinking? I'm not looking for a fling right now.

Alec

What am I doing here? I asked myself, right after I sat down. Why am I here?

It made me uncomfortable. He made me uncomfortable.

A normal person would be flattered if he or she was being stared at so intently by an attractive person. I wasn't flattered, not in the least.

I wanted to flee. Yes, flee. I was willing to put myself in an extremely embarrassing position, possibly even a situation where I can end up socially ruined, just to get out of his vicinity.

I'm not used to attention. I've never had the spotlight flashed to me, suddenly singling me out and proclaiming me as the main character.

So what if he was attractive? He made me uncomfortable. Maybe a tad bit jealous of his self-confidence and willingness to be socially friendly. (You'll never catch me confessing that out loud.)

I've made the mistake of believing attractive people before. You just never know what their true intents are.

Magnus

My headache has been completely disintegrated. But I still came back the next day to the café. I wasn't being annoying (though it was fun to irk him); I just wanted to see him again.

I ordered the same things all over again, and AGAIN, I asked him to join me. But something was wrong.

Something was different.

I narrowed my eyes at him, as I watched him prepare his tea. Granted, he was avoiding my eyes. But that wasn't the one that bothered me.

He raised his head, brought his cup to his lips and sipped. All the while his beautiful blue eyes were twinkling. Twinkling with amusement.

What?

Hottie raised a dark eyebrow, as if daring me to contradict him. I just watched him.

Something was wrong.

Why is he suddenly nice to me? Just yesterday he was throwing daggers at my person. Clearly he didn't like me.

A corner of his lovely lips quirked upwards. Did he just smile? Damn, if anything, that almost smile made him look all the more attractive in my eyes.

Suddenly it came to me. Why he was acting this way. I tried not to jump on my seat and dance in excitement.

Tried to act nice to me so I can leave? As if I would do that.

So I leaned forward on my seat, crossed my arms on the table, and said in a secretive voice, "Did you know in psychology there's this phenomenon called 'the mere exposure effect'?"

Hottie shook his dark head slightly.

I smirked. "It says that repeated exposure to something increases liking. In other words, familiarity breeds fondness."

Hottie's blue eyes were gradually losing their amusement. "What are you trying to say?"

I shrugged. "I like you, even though I don't even know your name."

Hottie blinked his eyes. I've rendered him speechless. Point one for me. Then his blue eyes gradually widened. Point two.

I leaned even closer on the table. I crooked a finger at him, which brought him just inches away from me. "I want to see you again," I murmured on his ear, my voice dropping an octave lower than normal.

He moved back, as if burned. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down quickly. "You're going to keep coming here?" He asked this question with a horrified face.

No need to be scared, I thought mentally.

I winked at him. "Until you start becoming fond of me."

He turned his head away from me and looked out the glass window. To an outsider, it might look like he was snubbing me.

The flames burning his cheeks and his ears, and that almost-smile on his lips said otherwise.

He liked it.

Alec

I've always been a sucker to spontaneous surprises. You could say it's my one and only weakness.

So when he suddenly confessed to me, all I could think was: Really? He likes me? I wasn't freaked out nor was I horrified.

In fact, I was flattered. My heart did some weird back somersaults in my chest when he whispered into my ear. (Another weakness of mine: I'm very ticklish on my ears.)

On his fourth visit, he asked me out. I agreed and asked what we're doing.

He told me we're staying in his apartment.

Which left me quite, quite distraught. And nervous. Actually, more nervous than distraught.

Now I'm standing right outside his apartment door, fiddling the folded cuffs of my sleeves. I want to smack myself. I've never been nervous for a first date before. It's just not me.

I press the door bell and wait for the door to open. I take a step back and run a hand through my already messed-up hair that my sister took twenty minutes styling.

These nerves need to disappear. I take a deep breath and let it out shakily.

Fuck.

The door opens and the man on the other side looks shocked to see me. The look only lasted for a second and is replaced by excitement. His yellow-green eyes twinkle with it.

He is attractive.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling awkward standing in front of him. This has never been a problem between us before, granted we were sitting down, but still. It's awkward.

He leans back on his door frame and just stares at me. His lips are twitching, as if trying hard not to smile. Or laugh, which is more than likely.

"You're quite early," he says, while looking me up and down.

"It's seven," I replied. Seven-one, to be precise. He should know; he's the one who arranged the date.

He nods his head. "True, I did say to come at seven." He straightens himself off the frame and tells me to come in.

I took a deep breath one last time and enter his lair.

Magnus

"You know," I said, while still chewing the meatball in my mouth. "I still don't know your name."

Hottie almost choked on his sparkling water. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and answered me with an amused smirk. "It's Alec."

I raised an eyebrow. "Alec? Is that your real name?" Suits him, actually. Alec. Sexy name.

Alec shook his dark head. "Alexander, actually, but no one calls me that except for my parents."

Alexander? Even sexier! I nodded my head and drank some water. I continued to look at Alec while he twirled some spaghetti around his fork.

Even with a simple olive-green button down and dark denim, he still looked good. Goddamn.

I was not expecting him to show up. I've been told I was too straightforward and some dates of mine were "cancelled" because of this fact. Not that I cried over the loss of those dates.

The fact that Alec showed up and was on time made him more alluring. My infatuation for him was growing.

Something else is growing. I looked down my lap and flashed my eyes upwards. Thank the Lord we're sitting opposite each other.

I looked back at Alec and found him staring at me, with a meatball halfway inside his mouth. That captivated me.

"You never did tell me your name," he said, his pink lips shaping the syllables over the meatball. I still continued to look at his lips, mesmerized.

"Magnus," I replied, very aware that my voice turned husky.

Alec finally ate the meatball, a drop of the tomato sauce sitting casually on the corner of his lower lip. His pink tongue darted out and flicked it away.

"Very old-fashioned. Who named you?" Alec spoke as he chewed. My eyes looked only at the movement of his lips.

"My parents. They were into the ancient Roman culture at the time." I wanted to lick his lips and taste him.

Alec nodded and drank his water. "Are you done with your food?" When I didn't answer, he motioned at the plate in front of me. I nodded my head slowly.

He pushed back his chair, grabbed his plate, stood up and grabbed my plate in the process. I just stared at his back, as he retreated to the kitchen.

I suddenly stood up and followed him.

I want your attention, Alec. Give me your attention.

Alec

I could feel his heated look at the back of my head. I noticed how he stared intently at my lips all dinner long.

Fuck, I was aroused.

Suddenly he was right next to me, facing me, his right hip hitched against the sink. I swallowed and tried not to show how he made me nervous.

"Was tonight the first date you've ever had with a guy?" He asked with his deep voice. It sounded raspier and deeper than usual. Don't tell me…

I nodded.

"How was it?" His warm voice tickled my ear. I shivered, but did not recoil away from him.

"I liked it," I confessed with an equally deeper voice.

Fuck.

"Should we do it again?" His lips were so close to touching my neck.

I nod once.

"What was that, Alec?" I could feel his nose behind my right ear, smelling me.

"Yes," I gasped.

"Yes what?"

I finally closed my eyes and felt. "Let's do it again."

Magnus

He was everything I liked. Loved. Dreamed of. Been yearning.

I clasped his chin and turned his head toward me. Alec opened his eyes and all I could see was red-hot, unadulterated desire burning darkly in his blue eyes. Desire for me. Only me.

I growled and captured his mouth. His sexy mouth immediately opened for me and I pushed my tongue inside his mouth. Turned my body so Alec was in front of the sink and I was bending over him.

He tasted so sweet, so Alec that I almost cried because he was so delicious. His tongue stroked mine, eliciting a moan from me.

I wanted more.

I hitched my fingers on his belt loops and pulled him closer to me. His growing arousal against mine was too much. I tore my mouth away from his and started kissing his throat. I licked his jawline while Alec grabbed the front of my shirt.

Alec panting on my ear was one of the sexiest sounds I've ever heard. I continued licking his throat, nibbling the strong tendons of his slender neck, moving downwards to lick his collarbone.

"I need to feel you," Alec panted on my right ear.

That has to be the sexiest. My breath quickened.

I heard ripping, buttons falling to the kitchen floor; I paid those no mind. Next thing I know Alec switched our places so he was the one who was bending over me.

I was shirtless (I now realized) and Alec's lips were devouring my neck. His nails lightly grazed my back and swept to my front. Alec spread his fingers all over my chest, all the while nibbling the small, sensitive area behind my left ear.

I moaned. Alec's fingers found my nipples and my breath hitched.

"Alec," I murmured against his hair. My hands found Alec's shirt and started unbuttoning it.

He pinched my nipples and I cried out. It was too much; I wanted to feel him too. I ripped his shirt in half and ripped it away from his glorious body.

My hands didn't stop with his shirt; they started moving downwards to his jeans. Alec lifted up his head and looked at me.

"Let's take this elsewhere," I bent my head to lick his lower lip. I pressed one of his nipples with my thumb. Mine, all mine.

Alec shivered. "Yes, yes," he murmured against my lips.

"Let me treasure you."

Forever.

Alec

I woke up to the sun flashing itself on my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes and groaned at the sudden brightness.

"Guess you're not a morning person," a raspy voice beside me said. My head whipped to the side and found Magnus grinning like an idiot at me. He was leaning on his elbow, looking gloriously ravished from the night before.

By me?

I chuckled low in my throat. "Not really," I replied, while flashing him a grin.

Magnus reached out and traced his fingers on my lips. "You should smile more often. A man like you should never look so blue."

"My smiles are only for you."

An arched eyebrow shot up.

"I'll show them to you when you're mine," I caught his hand and pressed a kiss on his palm. I let it go and moved closer to him.

Magnus moved, his lips millimeters away from me. His flawless naked body was growing warmer by the second.

"What an honor, sir, to be yours." Magnus nipped a corner of lower lip.

"Let me treasure you too."

A/N: It's actually pretty hard writing a gay fanfic. I think I need to improve my sex-scene writing. Should I be more descriptive? I should write more gay fanfics with sex scenes to improve. RnR?