The Institute was busy, for a change. It was busy, which meant that the Lightwood children were playing their parts as the entertainers; Isabelle, being her usual talkative and infectious self; Jace, impressing the guests with his vast knowledge and charm; Alec, staying slumped in a chair on the left side of Jace, putting in little bits of information here or there to make the conversation go more smoothly, but failing miserably and instead sinking further into the navy cushions in which he sat.

It wasn't that he didn't have anything to say—he did, and it would have been interesting, had he not stammered and worded it impossibly. His parents had pushed him when he was younger to talk in front of the guests, and he'd participated, but it was hard to carry out a conversation with Alec unless he trusted you.

Needless to say, when Magnus called later that night, interrupting the conversation that they'd been in, saying something important had come up and he needed Alec's help, Alec jumped at the chance and bid his farewells, leaving his family watching the door swing after him.

By the time Alec's key clicked the lock open, he saw that the warlock had indeed something important to do: Romanticize the evening, as Magnus liked to say. Candles flickered all around the room, sending shadows chasing along the walls; incents burned with a smell of sandalwood and roses, sweeping about the small living room in a way that made Alec want to swoon; music playing in the background, not quite tame enough to be played at a high-end restaurant, the sounds were sweet yet provocative, setting exactly the mood lovers should be in; and, of course, the main attraction, splayed on the neon yellow couch, black hair pointed into spikes, skin-tight black-leather pants hugging long and skinny legs, and a bare chest. Magnus.

Upon the door swinging open, Magnus glanced towards it, grinning when he saw blue eyes framed in black hair and an alabaster complexion. The picture sent his whole being into a frenzy of hormones. Alec was the most beautiful man alive, whether he knew it or not. And he was all Magnus'.

Magnus smirked. "Well, lovely, don't just stand there." He swung his legs to the floor and patted the place on the couch next to him. Alec unfroze from his place in the door way and walked to Magnus.

"Magnus, I thought you said you had something important to do. And that you needed me to do it," Alec said, his tone implying that though anything that had to do with candles, incents, music and a half-dressed Magnus didn't require Alec's presence, he damn near thought it should. He sat down, leaning into Magnus in a way that left the right side of his body pressed against his boyfriend, Alec's hand wrapped around Magnus' bare waist.

Magnus chuckled. "I think you are poorly mistaken. Your presence is /always/ needed. Looking at the gorgeous, glittering face of moi all day only goes so far in the respects of having fun. Besides, having dinner all by my lonesome myself has started getting old, dear."

Alec rubbed his fingers absently across Magnus' tanned skin. "You are gorgeous." He blushed. Magnus loved that blush, the one that led Magnus to believe Alec hadn't even known what was coming out of his mouth before he said it. It reminded him that what the Shadowhunter was telling him was whatever had been on his mind, nothing else. "I mean—you know that—and I thought—but I shouldn't have," he stammered. He flushed harder, his skin the color of a tomato. Magnus laughed quietly again. "I-I'm sorry. I just thought you should know."

Magnus put a finger under Alec's chin, pulling it up so, so close to his own lips. "I believe what you tell me, beautiful." This time, though, the pink creeping into Alec's cheeks didn't have time to spread; the pressure of Magnus' lips on his told him that there was nothing to be sorry for, nothing to be afraid of. The feeling of Magnus' lips was the only thing there was for Alec in that moment.