"It's not like it's one big bad thing. It's a lot of little invisible things…It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little paper cuts every day." Alec Lightwood, City of Lost Souls

.***.

i.

They were used to New York, and its don't-ask-don't-tell type sensibilities, where a man kissing a man on the street would make people grumble only if they had to step to one side to go around you. Magnus, with the sparkles in his hair, the sequins on his shirt, his orange pants, drew no more stares than the man next to him, mostly because New Yorkers were too intent on themselves to care much about the millions of strangers around them.

Alec had never traveled outside of the United States, unless you counted Idris, and he didn't. His place was in New York, and there were more than enough demons to take care of in New York to keep him busy. He was wary in Paris, in Florence and Madrid and Munich, but by the time he and Magnus reached Istanbul on their world tour, he'd gotten used to Magnus twining their hands together on the ancient streets and kissing his boyfriend under arches of dusty castles. He'd gotten so used to it that he began to initiate the interaction, something the unsure, rule-abiding boy back in New York, before the Mortal War, would never have done.

So they were in Istanbul, and Magnus was examining a deeply purple scarf, "Do you like Turkey?"

"Second favorite lunch meat, after chicken."

Magnus elbowed him in the ribs and Alec laughed, flicking his too-long bangs out of his eyes. It was the ten or twentieth time he'd made a similar joke since Magnus said he wanted to go further East and show him the civilizations that thrived in deserts and sand. Magnus rolled his eyes and didn't deign to respond, instead saying, "Will you wear this scarf if I got it for you?"

Alec ran the fabric through his fingers. It was indescribably soft, "Sure. But it'll look better on you."

"I beg to disagree."

"It matches your eyes."

There was something breathtaking about Magnus's smile, and Alec initiated the kiss for one of the very few times in their relationship, ignoring the bustling bazaar around them, ignoring the jostling bodies of strangers. When he pulled back, the bright purple of Magnus's eyes looked were surprised, which he loved, but they were also troubled. "Alec…"

"You should leave," the man behind the stand with the rainbow of scarves spoke in heavily accented English. Alec looked at him, too surprised to react.

Magnus put a soft hand on Alec's arm. "We don't want any trouble," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Come on."

But Alec found himself unable to move. He was quick and deadly, he could ruin this bazaar in a few minutes, but the man's frankly disgusted gaze was holding him in place. And then Magnus's head was on his shoulder, his mouth right next to his ear, and three words curled up to him. "Alec, love. Please."

"Leave," the man leaned over the counter, and Magnus was tall and Alec taller, but this man towered over them, his fingers curling into a fist. "Now."

The crowd had stopped being an indecipherable mass and had formed a ring around them, a ring that was closing in. Magnus tugged again and Alec finally blinked, hard, to get away from those hate-filled eyes.

When they were far away, in the room they'd rented on the outskirts of the city, Alec sat on the bed and Magnus knelt in front of him. "I'm sorry. I should have told you that perhaps PDAs were not the best idea here." He reached a hand up and stroked a thumb against Alec's cheek. "Oh love, please don't cry."

Alec hadn't felt the tears dripping down his cheek and tried very hard to stop them. Magnus got onto the bed and held him as he shook. It took a very long time for Alec to initiate a kiss again.

ii.

He put on his coat, his mind still back in the Clave meeting even as he eyed the drizzly day that waited for him outside.

"I wouldn't have thought that was your jacket, Lightwood. Did you borrow it from Izzy?"

Alec turned to face Jonah Penhallow, his hands unconsciously brushing down the front of his jacket. It was Magnus's of course, a dark blue velvet with large silver buttons down the front. Alec had admired it once and Magnus had promptly taken it off and given it to him. Alec wondered if other couples were swapping clothes as often as he was with his boyfriend. All he wanted to do was get back to Magnus and tell him about another horrible meeting, but Jonah was still standing there, wanting something from him. He wracked his brain for something polite to say, and settled on, "How's your brother, Jonah?"

Noah Penhallow, a quiet, artistic, logical boy, and a good friend of Alec's, had been injured in the Mortal War. Jonah had four years on the boys, and was known for his excellent battle skills and furious temper.

Jonah's eyes narrowed. "He's recovering. The high warlock of Brooklyn was finally able to reverse the effects of the spell. For an exorbitant price." He took a step forward and Alec suddenly wished for his bow. "You know him, don't you? Magnus Bane? Isn't he your…special friend?"

The other members of the Clave had already filed out or portaled away. They were alone in the hallway. Alec desperately wanted to get home and be away from Jonah and his cruel, laughing eyes. "I'm glad Noah is all right. Perhaps he can resume his spot on the council soon."

Jonah took another step forward, dropping down, probably subconsciously, into a fighting stance. Alec mirrored it warily. Jonah was a formidable opponent at the best of times, and his reference to the fact that the seat in the Clave belonged to rational Noah and not the older, impetuous brother had turned this into not the best of times.

"You know the Clave thinks you're a joke," Jonah spit. Alec kept his expression carefully neutral. Of course he knew this. Whenever he stood up to speak, the other members looked through him as if he weren't there. "You're a freak, Lightwood." His hand shot out and Alec dodged clumsily, the punch landing on his ear. "You even fight like a fag."

"If you're looking for a fight, we can go outside, Jonah," Alec suggested. He wanted to fight now. He wanted Jonah to hit him again, so he could show him that even fags could pack a hell of a punch.

Straightening up, Jonah laughed, shaking his head. "You're not worth it." He turned to go and Alec belatedly realized his hands had curled into fists to match Jonah's. He stared at them, and didn't see the punch coming.

When he got back to the apartment, Magnus ran a hand over his split lip and Alec said that someone had knocked him into a poll while he was walking down the street. Magnus didn't believe him, but didn't say anything else about it.

iii.

Izzy hadn't stepped foot into the kitchen, thank god, because this dinner was going to be awkward enough without Izzy's bad cooking to apologize for. Their father was coming home from Idris for the first time in two months. Maryse had asked (ordered) the children to a family dinner and, sensing the next question, said, "And let's have a family dinner, all right? I think Clary and Simon will survive a night without you." She didn't mention Magnus.

"I can come anyway," Magnus said when Alec had left in the early afternoon. "I'm an excellent cook."

He was, actually, and Alec desperately wanted Magnus there. It would be the first time the "family" would be around a dinner table without Max. "Dad's not…it'll be hard enough without you there to remind him. I'll see you tonight." He gave Magnus a distracted kiss and was surprised to find hands circling around his back, unwilling to let go.

Magnus rested his head on Alec's shoulder. "If he hurts you…"

"He's still my father, Magnus," Alec said, pulling away. "He won't do anything. Not with Izzy and Jace there." He disentangled himself from the embrace, suddenly angry.

"Sometimes fathers are the people who can cut you the deepest," Magnus said, standing stiffly, "Just be careful."

"Just because your father –"

"Don't you talk about my father!" Electricity crackled in Magnus's hands, jumping towards Alec.

Alec snorted and turned towards the door. "I might stay at home tonight," he said, "Don't wait up."

Now, as his father was staring at him, he wished he hadn't left things with Magnus on an argument. Izzy had just finished recounting a story of a lost siren stuck in the Hudson River that she'd killed after it lured two men to their deaths. The fight had involved a near drowning and particularly good whip work. Robert Lightwood turned towards the boys, who kept their eyes on their steaks. "And are you keeping up with your patrolling? Jace?"

"Bagged a rogue vamp yesterday," Jace said, nodding. "I mean, Clary and Simon helped a bit, but I'm still convinced she took one look at me and gave herself up willingly."

Robert nodded and flicked his eyes to Alec. "Your mother tells me you've rarely been in the Institute, Alec. Have you been skirting your duties?"

"No, sir," Alec said quickly, "I just…am out a lot."

"And you don't have any hunting stories?"

Alec winced and Jace jumped in, and Alec wondered if he knew his hand was drifting towards the parabatai mark under his collarbone. "Alec found all the kills. And he got the spell to exorcise that girl in Queens." He grinned at Alec, who made his lips twitch into a thin smile of thanks, "This steak is really great, too, Alec."

Robert ignored this last bit of information. His own steak was untouched. "Research," Robert said, slowly, "My oldest son is holed up doing research? Can't your warlock lover just give you the information? Isn't he a thousand years old?"

The air in the room seemed to turn to ice and Alec tried to get his heartbeat under control. His father was staring at him as if he were a stranger he disapproved of. "Magnus has his own business to conduct. And yes, I've been doing mainly research. The library is completely unorganized. I've been trying to put it into a system by –"

"And you do this all in Brooklyn?" his father said, cutting him off again.

"Well, yeah. Mainly in Brooklyn. It's quieter there. And I like the company."

"The aforementioned eight hundred year old warlock lover?"

"To be fair," Jace jumped in again, putting a hand on Alec's, holding his friend in place even as Alec scraped his chair back, wanting to stand. Maryse was doing the same with her husband. Izzy looked shell-shocked. "Izzy and I haven't been at the Institute a lot either."

"That's not the point," Robert snapped.

"Then what is the point?" Alec asked, shrugging off Jace's hand. "You don't approve of Magnus?" He was standing now, his mouth full of the same bitter taste it had just before a battle. Adrenaline. "Or you don't approve of me?"

Robert Lightwood rose, too, placing his hands on either side of the head of the table. "Every day I have people come to talk to me, and they all ask whether I know if my eldest has taken up residence with the high warlock of Brooklyn. They think you're unstable. They think you're being taken in by a Downworlder, manipulated. They think you are untrustworthy."

"Magnus has helped us! At great personal risk!" Alec shouted, the words exploding out of him.

Robert moved fast and pushed Alec up against a wall. "Don't you dare raise your voice at me! I'm trying to get you to think. You're putting my already very precarious position at risk. And I will not stand for it."

Alec glared at his father defiantly, not even given him the pleasure of trying to twist away from the bruising grip. Jace and Izzy were getting up from the table and Maryse was already there, "Robert, let's just have a nice dinner."

Jace looked ready to pounce and Alec caught his eye, shaking his head in a barely perceptible no. Robert's fingers loosened on Alec's shoulder and he slid several inches down the wall. He hadn't even known he'd been lifted off the ground. His shoulders hurt.

"You will not go back to that warlock," Robert said, a commandment said with no room left for argument. "You will sever all ties with him, and we will accept this as a mistake, an enchantment placed upon you by a powerful being. No one will think you the less after this. And we will deal with the warlock in our way."

"Or what?" Alec asked, his whole body vibrating with the force of the adrenaline. Jace had come to stand next to him and he was grateful for the solidness of his brother. "What if I go back to him. If I don't let you kill Magnus. What will you do?"

Robert's gaze was unreadable. "Then you are not my son. If you allow yourself to fall prey to this Downworlder's enchantment…"

Jace started forward, mouth opening, and even Izzy was beginning to argue in protest, but Alec didn't stay around to listen. He'd already walked out of the room.

iv.

They were walking through Central Park on a gloomy day in the middle of March when Magnus veered off the path to kneel next to a little boy who was crying. "What's the matter, kiddo? Are you lost?"

There was no other person in sight, and Alec shifted uncomfortably as the boy nodded, bursting into fresh sobs. He didn't mind children, but they always seemed to mind him. Even Max had cried every time he entered the room for the first year of his life.

Magnus didn't seem to have such an affliction. "Well, there's no reason to cry. Silly parents are always getting lost. Why don't we go look for them together?" He pulled a Werther's caramel out of the boy's ear, and Alec was thankful that this small bit of magic stopped the boy's tears instantly.

"See," Magnus said, "No reason to cry. My name is Magnus. What's your name, honey?"

"Oliver," the boy said, already opening the caramel. "Will you really help me find my mommy?"

Magnus nodded, standing up and holding out his hand. The boy took it readily. "I'm very good at finding lost mommies."

The boy seemed to accept this, then caught sight of Alec. "Who's he?"

"This is Alec. He's my friend."

Oliver waved at Alec, moving the caramel from one side of his mouth to the other. It made his cheek bulge. "My best friend's name is Alex, which is almost like Alec. But I don't know nobody named Magnus."

"There are very few of us," Magnus agreed as they started to stroll down the path. "What were you and your mommy doing today?"

"We were playing in the park. But she was busy with Morgan – she's my sister – and I wanted to catch the butterfly."

They rounded a corner. The children's play park was over the next hill. It was growing chilly and Alec shivered, wishing he'd taken Magnus's advice and put on the blue scarf he was always trying to get him to wear.

Of course, Magnus saw him shiver, and stopped walking. Oliver stopped too, looking up at them with wide eyes. "Sorry kiddo," Magnus said, never taking his eyes off of Alec, "My friend is a little chilly. Can I have my hand back to give him my coat?"

"Keep your coat," Alec muttered even as Oliver nodded amicably, watching as Magnus shrugged off a purple bedazzled monstrosity. The shirt he had under it was just as loudly gay as the jacket. If Alec put it on, they would look like quite the fabulous couple. He'd rather go cold.

"Thirty-eight degrees in a t-shirt is not a good time to argue fashion," Magnus said, rolling his eyes, "And you wouldn't be in this position if you had just listened to me."

Alec felt a familiar twinge of annoyance at Magnus's condescending tone, but didn't want to pick a fight in front of the wide-eyed boy. To set a good example, he put on the jacket and gave a grunt of thanks.

Magnus rolled his eyes and grabbed Oliver's hand again, twining his fingers in Alec's out of habit, and because Magnus seemed to exude an inner warmth and Alec was very cold, he allowed his hand to say, letting go of the annoyance he'd felt a moment ago.

He asked Oliver about his friend Alex, which set the kid chattering, his distress about being lost completely gone. Magnus smiled at him and Alec allowed himself to relax into this picture of two guys out with their young son. It was a strangely nice idea, even though Alec had never considered the idea of being a father.

The illusion was shattered by a high-pitched scream of "Oliver!"

All three looked up at the woman running towards them, pushing a stroller with a sleeping toddler in front of her. She abandoned the stroller ten feet away and ran forward, snatching Oliver out of Magnus's hand. "What were you thinking running away like that? Do you have any idea how scared I was? What -" he tone suddenly changed from relief to alarm and suspicion, "What do you have in your mouth?"

"A candy! The man gave it to me!" Oliver happily pointed at Magnus, and Alec felt a sinking in his gut as the mother fixed a death glare on them.

"You gave my child candy? What kind of sick f –" she covered Oliver's ears with her hands. "What kind of sick fuck are you?" she hissed, staring pointedly at Magnus's shirt, Alec's jacket, their clasped hands.

Alec jumped away from Magnus as if burned, "This must look bad, ma'am, but Oliver was crying and we were just trying to…"

"You don't give candy to another person's child. Ever." The mother's voice was so flat and harsh that Alec suddenly felt incredibly guilty about appeasing a distraught child.

"All due respect, ma'am," Magnus said, voice all chipper and polite, "But we were just trying to help."

The mother hugged Oliver to her chest, "Don't. We don't need help from you." Her gaze drifted over to Alec, and he was surprised to find the same frank disgust in her gaze as he'd seen in the man's in Istanbul. He thought it was a culture thing. He thought that New York was different. He thought he was safe here.

Magnus rolled his eyes, not noticing Alec's reaction, "Fine. Have a good day. 'Bye, Oliver."

"Bye!" Oliver said, wiggling his fingers even as his mother screamed, "You're lucky I don't call the police!"

Magnus walked quickly, grabbing Alec's hand and dragging him along at this fast pace. "Is a 'thank you' too much to ask for these days?" He said, "Honestly, what's the world coming to? I remember when people used to be grateful if their child was found safe and, you know, not crying." He glanced at Alec, "Any time you want to interject?"

"Maybe we were wrong to do that. Take the kid. Give him candy."

Magnus rolled his eyes, "By the angel," he swore, taking up Alec's swear, "We're not pedophiles. This isn't the 1960s. Excuse me for going on a walk with my boyfriend and finding your kid crying."

Alec shook his head, "No. We were wrong."

Magnus stopped walking and turned until he and Alec were face-to-face. He put a hand on Alec's chest. "Hey. I'm not apologizing for who I am. You don't have to, either."

Alec thought of his father, who hadn't talked to him in two months, of the Clave, who looked through him, of completely strangers who hated him on sight. "Maybe we were wrong," he said, quietly.

"Love is never wrong," Magnus said, and kissed him long and deep as a reminder.

v.

"He hasn't talked to me three months, Jace. I don't think this is just something he's going to get over."

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Jace who was leaning against the doorframe. They were in Magnus's apartment (which Alec was starting to think of as his apartment.) Magnus was out, performing some kind of summoning spell for a faerie, and Alec had been trying to catch up on sleep when Jace barged in, saying he was in the neighborhood and needed something to eat. Somehow, they were talking about Robert Lightwood. Again.

"Well," Jace pointed out, "You did leave pretty spectacularly."

"He threatened Magnus!"

"Not in so many words," Jace held up his hands as Alec opened his mouth, "I'm just saying man. I mean…I remember three years ago. You dated Stephanie Starshaker. You guys seemed happy."

Alec shook his head. He'd almost managed to block those three months from his memory. "You were seeing that girl Uptown. I felt like I needed to keep up. But I wasn't into her."

"Well, I know that. But your dad – our dad – he's always been kind of in and out of the Institute, you know? And I bet he has a great selective memory. So he sees you with a girl. Then he sees you with a boy. An eight hundred year old Downworlder boy. What's he supposed to think?"

Alec just stared, "whose side are you on, Jace?"

Jace shrugged, snatching an apple off the counter and taking a messy bite. The room was quiet for a long minute, then, "I wonder what would he think if he knew all that time you had a crush on me?"

The glass Alec had been holding shattered as his grip got too tight, and Jace laughed. "What the hell, Jace?" Alec said, his voice shaking. "What's the matter with you?"

"Oh come on, tell the truth. Do you still think about me? That way? Now? Every time you're with Magnus, do you think about me?"

Alec felt disoriented. He didn't even feel the blood dripping down his hand, didn't feel the piece of glass, embedded in the fleshy part of his thumb. "Get out. I mean it Jace. Maybe you're tired or…whatever. Just get out."

But Jace just shook his head, "You do, don't you?" He took a step forward, letting the apple roll across the counter. It was perfect and red, like the one that had poisoned a princess, like the one that had caused that first terrible sin, "You're still in love with me." This was a statement.

And Alec shook his head, "No. Not for a long time. I love Magnus." He'd never said those words out loud, and had never thought the first time he'd say them would be to Jace, but even now he felt a kind of rush at the sound of the words, and repeated them, "I love him."

Jace snorted, "Yeah, right." Then he lunged, pressing his lips against Alec's.

His lips were dry and cold and brittle and dead.

Alec lashed out, punching the not-Jace in the kidneys, the ribs. But this thing was strong. It spun and kicked Alec in the head, then grabbed Alec's hand and dragged the already embedded glass until it sliced across his palm. Then not-Jace pulled out the glass and drove it into Alec's stomach.

Alec howled, flailing his hand for his bow, which was just a few feet away. Not-Jace stomped on his wrist, snapping it in two, and Alec rolled to duck another stomp aimed for his head. Instead of the boy he grabbed the knife and turned just as not-Jace lunged again. The knife plunged through his chest.

The sound the thing made was not a Jace sound at all, but that didn't stop Alec from feeling a deep pain at the sight of his parabatai dying in his arms. Not-Jace blinked at him, then smiled sweetly. A heartbeat later, a dying Jace was a dying Magnus.

"You're still in love with Jace," Magnus said, in that quiet, hurt way Magnus sounded whenever they talked about his brother too much. "I saw you kissing him."

Alec could only gape at the thing. He knew, somewhere in his logical mind, that this was a shape-shifting demon, but most of his mind could only register that Magnus, who was supposed to live forever, was dying, and in his dying breath he was accusing Alec of something that had once been true but was now completely wrong. He didn't love Jace. Not at all. Not anymore.

"No…no, Magnus. It's you. It'll always be you."

Magnus's eyes slid towards the wall and he took a deep, dying gasp. "I hate you."

Then he died.

An hour later, Magnus walked up the stairs, past the couple on the landing below in the middle of their tumultuous love affair. It had been a long day, and he hoped Alec was home. He hoped Alec was wearing that blue sweater he'd been wearing this morning, the soft v-neck that made him look especially young and cuddly.

Magnus opened the door to a pool of blood, and his head stopped. "Alec?" The call echoed down the empty hallway. He should go investigate. He could not stop staring at the blood.

Then there was a sound, soft, a sob, and Magnus flew down the hall to see his boyfriend on the floor, beaten, broken, bleeding, curling around a dead Magnus.

The live Magnus took a step back, but eight hundred years was enough time to have seen most demon ploys a few dozen times. They were wildly uninventive. A shape-shifter, then. "Alec?" He said, already kneeling, trying to ascertain how much of the blood belonged to the teen. "Love, where are you hurt?"

Alec turned to him, his gaze unfocused, his expression pleading. "I didn't want to kiss Jace," Alec said, the words tumbling off his lips in a jumble of sounds, "I didn't want – I love you, Magnus. Please don't die."

"I won't," Magnus assured him, putting pressure on a knife cut across Alec's belly. "Stay awake, love."

"I didn't want to kiss him," Alec said, eyelids fluttering, "Don't leave me. Please."

Alec went limp, and Magnus caught him, screaming his name over and over as blood poured out over the kitchen floor.

.***.

the end.

maybe. if you guys want to see it continued, drop us a line, send in an idea about one of those million paper cuts alec was talking about. if you guys want to see us write it, we'll continue.

in the meantime, have fun trying to figure out why two twenty year old boys would read this series (hint: persuasive girl friends) and write about this particular couple (hint: gay best friends.) peace and prosperity, guys.