Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Excellent sense of direction my left arse cheek...” Ragnor grumbled as he waited for Magnus to decide which way they were going.

Magnus squinted down at the map he was holding, determined not to acknowledge Ragnor’s griping. A weekend in the woods wasn’t exactly his idea of fun either, but he'd be damned if he wasn’t going to make an effort.

Catarina coughed pointedly, and then leant over to rotate the map 180 degrees. “That might help.”

Magnus opened his mouth to disagree and then abruptly thought better of it. Behind him, Ragnor continued muttering under his breath.

“Come camping with us, Ragnor. It’ll be fun, they said. Never mind the back-breaking ground and the hideous clothes and the spaghettios you’ll have to eat for dinner...”

Magnus stopped listening as he spotted a flash of white through the pines. He wandered off down the track, turning the corner to find a folk-style Victorian manor with dove grey cladding and white-framed windows. On the left-hand side, an octagonal tower rose above two sets of bay windows; on the right, a white painted porch wrapped around the side to overlook the lake.

Overcome with curiosity, he drew closer.

There was a ‘for sale’ sign in the garden, though it looked like it had been there a while. Through the ground-floor bay window he could make out a tiled fireplace bracketed with wingback armchairs and an arch that led to a formal dining room. The rooms were dark, and a thick layer of dust covered the wooden coffee table.

“Magnus?” He looked back to see an exasperated Caterina had come to fetch him. “It's getting late.”

“I’ll just have a quick look,” he assured her, climbing the steps to the porch. The first few windows were a toilet and a study, both unremarkable for their part, but once he turned the corner he found a gorgeous open plan kitchen with a double range and an oak breakfast table.

“...and what exactly is Magnus doing around the back of someone’s house?” Ragnor asked pointedly, the sound carrying around the porch with ease.

“Leave him be,” Cat replied, “I haven’t seen him this excited in a long time.”

Magnus swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and dragged his eyes away from the sliding French doors and the open expanse of the lake as he returned to front of the house. “I’m coming, I’m coming...”

Cat gave him a soft smile as he swung himself down off the porch and Ragnor helped him back onto the path with a belaboured sigh. As they picked their way back to the main road, Magnus fell silent, uncharacteristically pensive.

He’d been going through the motions ever since he’d left Camille, throwing himself into work and whiskey and meaningless one night stands. Caterina had done her best to steer him away from total self destruction, but she couldn’t take away his heartbreak.

The camping trip had been her idea, of course. Magnus had only said yes to make her happy and Ragnor had been dragged along under much duress. Quite frankly, he’d be amazed if she wasn’t regretting it – so far the two of them had broken a tent pole, spilled sangria  on the groundsheet, and nearly come to blows twice.

But somewhere amid the squabbling and chaos, he’d finally sat back, looked at his life, and come to an overwhelming conclusion.

Something needed to change.

“Is that a diner?” Cat asked suddenly, interrupting Ragnor’s latest grievance and pulling Magnus from his thoughts.

Magnus took one look at the neon letters and then turned his best puppy eyes on his friends. “Please pretty please?”

Caterina sighed. “We’ll have to find the tent in the dark.”

“It might be worth it for food that doesn’t come from a tin,” Ragnor pointed out.

Ten seconds later, Magnus was pushing open the door and revelling in the smell of grease and cheap meat. The diner was empty, and the waitress behind the counter didn’t look up when they came in, engrossed in what looked like a biology textbook.

When Ragnor cleared his throat, she pointed at the sign behind her that read ‘please take a seat’.

Caterina raised her eyebrows but slid into a booth without further comment.

There were plastic menus between the salt and pepper shakers, which Magnus quickly handed over to his friends. He didn't need to scour them himself – he’d already spotted the words ‘bacon cheeseburger.’

The waitress was young, a mass of curly hair and sun-browned skin offsetting the shapeless uniform she wore. To her right there was a open hatch that led to the kitchen, where a giant of a man was slicing onions at a heady pace. Magnus might have worried about his fingers if he didn’t look so utterly at ease.

As he watched, the chef picked up the chopping board and raised his head, catching Magnus’ eye for a fraction of the second. His jaw was covered with a dusting of dark hair and his eyes were a rich hazel. The corner of Magnus’ mouth tipped up in a cautious smile, but the chef was already facing away, onions sizzling as they hit the pan.

Disappointingly, he was only visible from the waist up.

“Magnus.” Caterina’s voice was low, carrying a hint of warning if not of judgement, and Magnus looked away, realising the waitress was on her way.

Now she was no longer hiding behind a book, he could see deep brown eyes, full lips, and a smatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Apparently everyone who worked here was just preternaturally good looking.

Maybe there was something in the water.

“Welcome to Hunter’s, where the food’s so good it’ll make you howl,” she said in a voice that implied she’d rather be literally anywhere else on earth. “I'm Maia, what can I get you today?”

Magnus hid a smile as Ragnor and Cat ordered a spinach frittata and a chilli dog respectively, before asking for a bacon cheeseburger for himself.

“Do you want salad or fries with that?” the waitress asked, scribbling on her notepad in shorthand.

“To quote the bisexual motto, why not both?”

Maia blinked, a huff of laughter escaping when she’d registered what he said, and Cat rolled her eyes.

“Just ignore him... can we have three beers as well?”

“Coming right up.”

The waitress made her way over to the hatch, and then tore off the page to hand it to the chef, who'd already put three Heinekens and a bottle opener on a tray. After a walk that Caterina claimed had only been ten miles – but what had felt like much more – ice cold beer was a gift from the gods.

“Do you think they get much business out here?” Ragnor asked, pouring his beer out into the tumbler he’d asked Maia for.

Cat shrugged, setting her beer down. “Probably not in the off season – Idris is tiny and the truckers use the new interstate.”

“Shame,” Magnus hummed, “it’s so peaceful here.”

Ragnor’s reply was interrupted by the arrival of the food, which looked divine – the frittata was crisp and buttery, the chilli luscious and the salad fresh. Magnus’ burger looked frankly orgasmic, sharp cheddar coating streaky bacon, sweet tomatoes, tangy pickles, and a generous beef patty.  

He removed the toothpick holding it together, and took a bite, eyes slamming shut at the taste. The beef was a perfect medium rare, juicy and well seasoned, and the roll had been toasted to perfection. Caterina was wearing a similar expression of utter bliss, and even Ragnor seemed to be enjoying his meal.

“Is it just me or is this really fucking good?” Cat asked, wiping some sauce from the side of her mouth.

“For a diner in the middle of nowhere, it’s goddam miraculous,” Magnus replied.

His gaze flitted toward the open hatch, where the chef was already wiping down the surfaces with delectably strong arms. Imagine looking like that and being able to cook like this... it was practically obscene.

When the food was mostly gone, and the three of them were picking at what remained of Magnus’ fries, he pulled out his phone and looked up the realtor from the sign he’d seen in the garden. It took him mere seconds to find the listing for ‘Dauphin House,’ and he let out a low whistle when he saw the asking price.

“Put the phone away Magnus,” Ragnor said disapprovingly.

Magnus ignored his friend, turning the screen around instead. “Tell me that’s not a steal.”

“And what exactly would you need four bedrooms and a boat house for?”

“Maybe I could rent them out.”

Ragnor put his fork down on his plate with a clatter. “Okay, I put up with the purple suede flares and the frosted tips – not to mention she-who-shall-not-be-named – but I will not be friends with a landlord.”

“Calm down,” Magnus replied, rolling his eyes, “I meant as a bed and breakfast.”

“You already have a job, remember?” Cat sounded amused, but relaxed – Magnus could tell she wasn't taking him seriously.

“I’ve been thinking about taking a sabbatical, and my lease in up in September.”

There was a pause as she wiped her hands on a napkin.  “You mean it.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Magnus nodded anyway. “I do.”

“Hold on,” Ragnor said, already frowning. “You can’t just buy a house and decide to become a hotelier. Besides, who’s going to come on holiday here?”

“We did,” Cat reluctantly pointed out.

“And imagine how much nicer it would have been with indoor heating and modern plumbing,” Magnus added. They lapsed into silence again, and he picked up the last fry. “It was just a thought.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Maia said awkwardly, “can I get you anything else?”

“The chef’s hand in marriage?” Magnus quipped. “I don’t require much of a dowry – a couple of goats should suffice...”

This time he got a chuckle, but Caterina was still wholly unimpressed. “We’ll have the bill, thanks.”

When Maia returned, Magnus was oddly charmed to find the bill was illustrated with a new moon and came with a QR code to ‘join the pack’.

It was pitch black outside, the road back to Idris stretching off into the darkness, but they were all too well fed to care. Caterina asked Ragnor how his research was coming along, and Magnus was happy to let the subject of the house drop.

A few miles down the road they were overtaken by a beaten up pickup truck driven by the mysterious chef. Maia waved from the passenger seat, and Magnus found himself wondering if they were together.

Hopefully she didn’t mind him propositioning her boyfriend if they were.

When they finally arrived, the campsite was quiet, the two other parties having apparently gone to sleep. Magnus was just about to congratulate Caterina on finding the tent unscathed when Ragnor got his foot stuck in a guy line and promptly face planted into the mud.

“I am never coming back to this godforsaken hellhole,” he hissed from the ground.

“Even if I move here?”

“Especially then.”

Once Caterina and Magnus had finished laughing and they’d all brushed their teeth, they settled down to go to bed. Heart in his mouth, Magnus pulled up the listing again, hiding the light from his phone inside his sleeping bag.

It was just as he’d remembered it – stunning, if a little unkept. At the back of the house upstairs there was a master bedroom and a queen, both with ensuites,  that overlooked the lake. The front had two further rooms, a queen with a bay window and  small single, that shared the family bathroom. The dining room wasn’t to his taste, but the breakfast area in the kitchen more than made up for it.

The boat house seemed to have been used as a junk room, but it was a decent size from the floor plan, and could probably be used as another bedroom at a push. If he were to live in the master and convert the dining room, that would make five rooms to rent out to guests. The doorways were even wide enough that the dining room could be made accessible, although he’d have to install a ramp to get up to the porch.

He shut off the screen quickly, wiping the condensation on his t-shirt.

This was insane. He was a financial analyst, not a innkeeper. He owned precisely one screwdriver, and he could barely spackle the holes Camille had left in his drywall, let alone renovate a house. That wasn’t even mentioning the holes she’d left in his heart – Caterina had picked this weekend to go away so that he wouldn’t sit around and mope on what would have been their wedding day.

He needed a change, a fresh start somewhere new. The city was full of Camille and their history together – the speak-easy where they’d had their first date, the park where he’d proposed... the flat where he’d found her fucking her secretary. In Idris he could make new memories, and heal his broken heart.

He’d always had good taste, whatever Ragnor said, and there really wasn’t that much to do. He could hire someone local to oversee the building work, and then take care of the final touches himself. Perhaps he could even get Jocelyn's daughter to help with the decor – her taste ran a little more conventional than his own.

Before he went to sleep, he sent an email to his solicitor with the subject ‘Do NOT Talk to Ragnor About This, or I’ll Fire You’, and then one to HR enquiring about sabbatical leave. Caterina would tell him to sleep on it, Ragnor would say he was mad, and they were both probably right, but he simply didn’t care.

He was going to buy Dauphin House, and then he was going to turn it into the bed & breakfast of his dreams.

Chapter Text

Magnus groaned and stretched as best he could within the confines of Clary’s beaten-up Honda Civic. When she’d offered to drive the two of them out to Idris, he hadn’t quite factored in the pitiful leg room involved before saying yes.

“Thanks biscuit,” he said with a tired smile as Clary passed him the paper cup that had been sitting behind the gear box. It was a vile attempt at filter coffee that tasted like watered down battery acid, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

“We’re nearly there,” she told him, checking her mirror as she turned right. The centre of Idris consisted of a handful of restaurants, a fire station, and a grocery store. Since it was mid-morning on a Tuesday, the streets were empty and the tables bare in the dappled sunlight.

Clary seemed uninterested in the idyllic surroundings, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at a stoplight.

“Have you been here before?” Magnus asked curiously.

She shook her head. “Simon only moved back this spring.”

Magnus looked out at the lush foliage that surrounded them and the blue of the lake peeking through the trees, unable to stop a smile spreading across his face. “Isn’t just magical?”

Clary hummed as the light turned green.

In a stroke of luck, or perhaps fate, Clary’s best friend from college had apparently grown up in Idris, and recently moved back to look after his mother. She’d jumped at the chance to spend her summer with him, and Magnus had been secretly relieved he didn’t have to house her during the renovations.

It was going to be difficult enough getting everything done while he was living there, let alone a second person.

“Do we need to pick up the keys?” Clary asked.

“My handyman’s already there,” Magnus replied. “Providing he hasn’t run off with the money and left me to ruin, that is.”

She arched an eyebrow as she turned up the dirt track to the house. “Is that... something we’re worried about?”

“Well he seems nice enough, but, you know...” Clary looked at him blankly, and Magnus shrugged. “I’ve never actually met him in person.”

“Well that bodes well.”

As they were getting out of the car, the front door opened, and a shirtless guy with a shock of blonde hair gave them a broad grin. “Magnus, my man!”

“Jenson, was it?”

“Jace,” the handyman corrected him, holding out a hand for him to shake.

“Of course,” Magnus continued, with a quick smile. “Allow me to introduce Clarissa, who’ll be helping me with the interior design.”

He gestured to Clary, who’d come to stand beside him. For some reason, she was eying the handyman with unbridled suspicion.

“Jace?” she asked with a frown. “Jace Wayland?”

“How’d you know?”

Clary let out a huff of laughter, shook her head, and then walked past him into the house without responding. Jace stared after her with an expression of mild bemusement.

“...shall we?” Magnus said brightly.

It was the first time he’d actually seen the house inside, and he was relieved there were no unpleasant surprises – if anything the ceilings were higher than they’d looked in photographs, and the natural light was just stunning. The upstairs was in dire need of an update, but it had good bones.

Magnus’ good mood did little to cut the tension, with Clary being uncharacteristically cold to the handyman as he gave them the tour. He wasn’t sure exactly why – as far as he could tell, Jace seemed to have done good work. The new wiring in the library looked immaculate, and the wall he’d asked to be moved downstairs had already been finished and painted.

“We’ll install the walk-in shower at the end of this week,” Jace said confidently, “just as soon as you’ve picked out the tile.”

“Fabulous,” Magnus replied, “we can look over the samples today.”

“Are we keeping the bathrooms upstairs as they are?”

Magnus looked toward Clary, who pursed her lips.

“Can I speak to you?” She jerked her head toward Jace. “Alone.”

Magnus gave the handyman an apologetic glance and followed her into the room opposite, which was going to be his office.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“I’m not working with him,” Clary said obstinately, folding her arms.

“Why not?”

“He’s a dick, that’s why.”

“You’ve only just met him,” Magnus said, more than a little bewildered. “I mean, sure he could put on a shirt, but–“

“Simon went to school with him,” Clary interrupted, her eyes flickering toward the door. “It was bad, okay?”

Magnus sighed.

He hadn’t known Clary had connections in Idris when he hired Jace – if he had, he might have asked for recommendations.

“I can’t fire him just because he was an asshole in high school,” he said gently. “He’ll be out of your hair by the end of the week – once he’s tiled the shower, everything else is in the boathouse.”

“Can’t you just break the contract?”

“Not without opening myself up to a lawsuit,” Magnus said regretfully. “I need you to be professional about this.”

Clary wrinkled her nose. “Fine... he’s still a dick though.”

Magnus gave her a look of fond exasperation. “Message received.”

When they emerged from the office, Jace had pulled on a faded t-shirt, and Magnus half wondered if he’d overheard their conversation. Clary's hostility had turned to cold apathy, and Jace was visibly relieved when she announced she was going to the paint store to pick up samples.

The moment she’d left, Jace turned to Magnus with wide eyes.

“Did I... say something?”

“No,” Magnus replied, “not just then anyway.” He took a deep breath. “Is there somewhere nearby where we could get a decent cup of coffee?”

Jace offered to drive them to Hunter’s, to which Magnus readily agreed. He hadn’t tried their coffee last time, but he had little doubt it would be better than whatever Clary had bought from the gas station.

When they entered the diner, Jace still lost in his thoughts, Maia did a double take. “Come to claim your betrothed?”

“You remembered me,” Magnus said with a pleased smile, as Jace looked between them in confusion.

“You’re his what now?”

“Not me,” Maia, laughed, “him.”

She jerked her head toward the kitchen window, where the chef was washing up. Jace gave Magnus a look somewhere between incredulity and intrigue, and he shrugged.

“Can you blame me? I’ll have a flat white, please, and Jason’s usual.”

As Maia racked up the beans with a snort, Jace opened his mouth, and then wisely decided to let it slide.

Once they’d sat down, the handyman pulled some bubble-wrapped tile samples out of the canvas bag he was carrying – a jade green brick, royal blue fans, and some teal hexagons. They looked glossier than Magnus had realised in person, but he was fairly sure any of them would work.

He was asking a few questions on pricing as Maia delivered their coffees along with two fresh croissants.

“On the house,” she said, with a mischievous grin.

The coffee was divine and the croissant buttery and freshly baked. The two of them together were a transcendent experience, and Magnus was so enraptured he completely forgot he was supposed to be making a decision.

“...Magnus?”

“Sorry,” he said, licking the crumbs from his fingers. “I think I might be in love.”

“Don’t get too attached,” Jace said, with a bitter edge to his smile. When Magnus arched an eyebrow he elaborated. “Hunter’s is closing down next month.”

“What? Why?” Magnus asked, quickly followed by, “where am I going to get my coffee!?”

“Try where am I going to get another job that lets me study on the clock,” Maia muttered, tacking on a half-hearted apology when it was clear they'd heard.

Magnus could have kicked himself for being so thoughtless. “Would it help if you knew a guest house was opening down the road?”

Maia frowned, and Jace jumped in to explain. “Magnus is renovating Dauphin House.”

“No shit,” Maia replied.

“Come October you’ll have a captive audience,” Magnus argued, “surely that would change things?”

“I wish it did,” she said with a sigh, “but I doubt corporate would care... you’re not hiring are you?”

Magnus cocked his head. “Now there’s an idea...”

It was clear she meant it as a joke, and Magnus had replied in kind, but his mind was already back in that open kitchen. There was plenty of counter space, and could source an espresso machine without much trouble.

“So which one are we going with?” Jace asked, tearing him away from his musing.

“Right, yes, the jade I think,” he said, indicating the rectangular tile and then launching into a description of the herringbone pattern he’d like them laid in. As Jace wrapped the samples back up, Magnus ruminated on Maia’s throw away remark.

He hadn’t really intended to offer food, but if the diner was closing that made the nearest restaurant the cantina in the centre of Idris – a good hour’s walk around the lake,  as he knew from personal experience. Maybe offering breakfast was worth considering... the oak table in the kitchen was certainly large enough.

“Will Clary be back at the house?”

Magnus looked up at Jace, surprised to hear the nerves in his voice.  “Probably, by now, but she’s a professional – she won’t bite.”

“I didn’t sleep with her did I?”

Magnus’ eyes widened a little. Apparently he wasn’t the only one with a penchant for one night stands. “No,” he said amusedly, gesturing to Maia for the bill before turning back to Jace.

“Then why does she hate me?”

Magnus tilted his head, weighing up his options, and deciding on the truth. “A friend of hers went to Alicante High – Stephen Lewis, or something like that.”

“You mean Simon?” Maia asked as she arrived with the card machine.

“Maybe?” Magnus replied, but either way Jace was still confused.

“Who the hell is Simon Lewis?”

“Whatever you do, don’t say that to Clary...” Magnus trailed off, utterly delighted to find the mysterious chef had come to say hello.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.”

Jace turned around to greet him with the ease of old friends. “You need the truck later?”

“If that’s still okay.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes, suddenly realising why Jace’s truck had been familiar. “You two know each other.”

“Regretfully,” the chef joked, catching Magnus’ eye and lingering for a second too long.

“Magnus Bane,” Magnus said, holding out a hand to shake, “big fan.”

“So I’ve heard.” There was only the slight twist of the chef’s mouth to confirm what Magnus had suspected – that he was well aware of everything Magnus had said previously – but it still sent a thrill rushing down his spine.

For a minute they were silent, Magnus’ eyes dropping to the chef’s lips as his own curved into a flirtatious smile.

“This is Alec,” Jace said, when it became clear neither of them were going to break the silence. Magnus reluctantly let go of Alec’s hand.

“And tell me Alec – Alexander? – what will you do when Hunter’s closes down?”

The chef shrugged, his expression clouding over. “Probably wash dishes at the cantina until I find something else.”

“A tragic waste of your talents,” Magnus remarked solemnly, to agreement from Maia and Jace.

A light flush appeared across Alec's cheeks. “It is what it is.”

“What if I was looking for a cook?” Magnus asked. Jace shot him a sideways glance, but Magnus ignored him. This hadn’t been the plan, but hell if it wasn’t now.

“In Idris?” Alec asked.

“Dauphin House.”

Something he couldn’t quite read flashed across Alec’s eyes. “I don’t know... I–”

“Don’t decide now,” Magnus said firmly, not ready to hear ‘no’. “Come for an interview – both of you – and we’ll take it from there.”

He looked toward Maia, including her in the invitation, and she blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

“I take my coffee very seriously,” Magnus grinned.

He hadn’t intended to spontaneously hire two employees today – Raphael was going to kill him – but he felt surprisingly good about it. Bed and breakfast without breakfast is just... bed, after all.

Besides, he’d felt a spark with Alec – not the rush of infatuation he’d slammed into with Camille, but something warmer, and somehow more real. Even if Alec didn’t end up accepting the job, he’d have a chance to have a proper conversation with him.

And if he got to sample more delicious food, that could only be a bonus.

Chapter Text

Magnus almost missed the knock.

He was catching up with emails in his office after lunch, when there was a tapping noise. He went out into the hall to check, but he couldn’t see anyone at the front door. When it sounded again, he realised it was coming from the kitchen.

“Hello,” he said, smiling as he slid open the glass door. “I have a doorbell, you know. At the front of the house.”

On the other side was a familiar chef holding a brown paper. “I know,” Alec said sheepishly, “but I was already down at the boathouse and...”

He trailed off and Magnus narrowed his eyes. “What’s in the bag?”

“Cinnamon buns.”

“In that case...”

Magnus whirled around, inspecting the espresso machine he’d had delivered the day previous and leaving the door open for Alec to join him. Alec closed the door behind him and then watched him struggle with a smile playing on his lips. “Would you like some help?”

Magnus pulled a face. “Is it that obvious?”

“Kind of,” Alec replied, leaning over to help him. His chest was warm against Magnus’ back and Magnus felt only slightly guilty for enjoying it as much as he did.

Once the machine had started, Alec stepped back, plating up the cinnamon rolls before taking a seat. Somehow he found the plates on his first try, despite the fact that Magnus still hadn’t learned where they were himself.

“So,” Magnus said, setting down the coffees. “Tell me about yourself.”

“...anything in particular?” Alec asked, raising his eyebrows, and Magnus waved a hand in the air as if to apologise. He’d sort of forgotten this wasn’t a date.

“How did you get into cooking?”

“You want the nice story or the real one?”

“Why not both? As I like to say.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth ticked up and he tore a piece off the cinnamon roll in front of him. “I usually tell people I’ve always loved food, and I just stumbled into it. Truth is, my parents kicked me out half-way through senior year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Magnus murmured.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Alec shrugged. “Jace’s dad took me in, gave me the spare room and helped me finish high-school. I didn’t have a way to repay him, so I started cooking dinner every night for the three of us. He kept saying I didn’t have to, but when he saw how much I enjoyed it he started buying me fancy ingredients instead.”

“He sounds great,” Magnus said with a soft smile. Alec took a sip of his coffee.

“He is. Probably regretting the whole not-charging-me-rent thing right about now, though...”

Magnus chuckled, and Alec flushed a little beneath his scruff – a sight Magnus could tell would be dangerously addictive if he let it be.

“Can I ask about the job?” Alec’s voice was steady, but he looked a little nervous all the same.

“Of course,” Magnus replied. “Ideally, it'd be breakfast four or five days a week... I wasn’t sure what was possible here.” He waved his hand again to indicate the kitchen – well equipped, but by no means professional.

“Buffet or a la carte?”

“What would you suggest?”

Alec's eyebrows drew together in concentration. “With the boathouse and the library there’d be, what, eleven guests at full capacity?”

“Ten for now,” Magnus amended. “I’m staying in the master bedroom.” Alec’s eyes flickered down to his bare ring finger and Magnus gave him an amused smile. “No wife, or husband, or partner of any kind.”

“Right, uh...” Alec cleared his throat, flushing again. “We could do a small menu – three or four options at most – maybe a sweet potato hash, porridge with whatever fruit’s in season... and bacon pancakes. You gotta have pancakes.”

Magnus laughed. “That you do... what about dietary requirements?”

Alec shrugged. “I could make the hash gluten free and the porridge vegan without much effort – anything else I’ll take as it comes.”

“Sold,” Magnus quipped, but Alec still looked unsure.

“That’s not a lot of work for a full-time job,” he pointed out.

“I suppose not,” Magnus mused, popping the last of his cinnamon bun in his mouth. “Well if Maia’s serving coffee, we could offer cakes and pastries too? These would sell like hotcakes, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“That could work, yeah. Did you have a salary in mind?”

“I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Magnus teased.

Alec looked apprehensive. “What does that mean?”

“I was joking, Alexander. We'll pay you whatever you were making at Hunter’s, with a much improved benefits package I imagine...”

He trailed off, a little alarmed by the evident relief washing through the chef. He hadn’t meant much by flirting – it was essentially his default setting – but while he’d been indulging himself, Alec had been worrying about his livelihood.

“I suppose I should have led with that,” Magnus said quietly, and Alec dropped his eyes, parting his lips.

Whatever he might have said next was rudely interrupted by a banging on the glass door. Magnus rolled his eyes and opened it with an audible groan.

“Yes Jeremy?

“Hey,” said Jace, somehow oblivious to his irritation. “The furniture’s arrived, and I was wondering if you could give me a hand.”

Magnus smiled sweetly. “Do I look like I do manual labour?”

“No,” Jace acknowledged, “but I know he does.”

He nodded over Magnus’ shoulder, and Alec stood up with a sigh. “Where d’you need me?”

Alongside the new beds for the boat house and library, Clary had ordered side tables, dressers, and a two pairs of accent chairs. She had very specific ideas on where they should be placed, and Magnus watched in amusement as Alec and Jace did their best to follow her directions.

While the handyman was dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt, Alec had worn a corduroy button-down for his interview, which was far from ideal attire for lugging around furniture. Before long, he’d rolled up the sleeves, and Magnus found his gaze lingering where the fabric pulled tight around his biceps.

“Having fun?” Clary asked under her breath.

“So what if I am?” Magnus replied, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the view.”

“No offense, but he’s not my type.”

Magnus nodded to where Jace was chugging from a bottle of water. “And blondie?

“In his dreams,” Clary muttered.

Magnus bit back a grin.

When they moved onto the library, Alec seemed to hesitate at the entrance to the hallway.

“It’s just on the right,” Magnus said behind him, and Alec nodded, carrying the end table through the door.

The room was bare, the wooden shelves that remained empty and the bureau that had been under the window relocated upstairs. Clary had already replaced the lightshade, and a rug she had sourced second hand was leaning against the wall, ready to be rolled out once they’d built the bed.

“What happened to all the books?” Alec asked.

“They’re boxed up in my office,” Magnus replied. “I’ve been meaning to go through them, but I imagine they’ll mostly be donated.” The chef looked almost disappointed, and before he could second-guess himself, Magnus was making an offer. “You could look through them if you like?”

Alec met his eyes for a second, as if searching for something, and then looked away. “That’d be nice, thanks.”

Once they’d brought everything inside, and Clary was happy with where they were, she turned to Magnus with an apologetic look on her face.

“We’re a little behind schedule – two of the rooms still need painting. Please tell me you don’t have plans this weekend...”

“...I guess I don’t now,” said Magnus with a sigh.

He’d been rather looking forward to hunkering down with a bottle of wine and the latest season of Love is Blind, but needs must, he supposed.

“I could help you get a few coats on tonight,” Jace offered, having apparently overheard their conversation.

“We’re fine thanks.” Clary’s tone was sharp and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Now, now, biscuit,” Magnus said, putting a hand on her arm. “Let’s not be too hasty... if he’s offering to help, I’m inclined to let him.”

Clary exhaled through her nose, before levelling Jace with a steely gaze. “I’m not paying you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” Jace replied with a cocky grin.

“We could probably stretch to pizza and beer,” Magnus said, nudging Clary in the ribs, “for both of you, if you wanted to join?”

He directed his question to Alec, and then immediately regretted it. The chef looked like a deer in headlights, and Magnus half-wondered if he’d been coming on too strong.

Clearly, he was less inclined to stay than Jace.

“Which rooms?” Alec asked, looking at Clary instead of Magnus.

“The smaller two,” she replied, “I did the ensuite this morning.”

Alec nodded silently, as if he was weighing things up, though Magnus wasn’t quite sure what difference it could make.

“Alexander, you really don’t have to,” he said gently. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s alright,” Alec replied. His body language softened, and he shot Jace a sideways glance. “He’s my ride anyway.”

If Jace heard the hint of resignation in Alec’s voice, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he punched him in the arm with a “hell yeah bro,” blissfully ignorant of Clary’s disdain.

By the time Magnus had finished his emails and changed into clothes he didn’t mind getting dirty, Clary had already set up dust sheets and started taping the skirting boards in the larger of the rooms at the front of the house. Jace was mixing the paint, and Alec was looking out into the sun-dappled trees with an odd look in his eyes.

“Admiring the view?” Magnus asked.

Alec turned around to answer, and then gawked at Magnus’ clothes. “That’s what you’re wearing to paint?”

Magnus looked down at the acid-washed jeans and paisley dress shirt he was wearing. “Hideous, aren’t they?”

The look Alec gave him was more bemused than anything else, but it was tinged with something soft that Magnus couldn’t decipher.

Clary had chosen a cornflower blue for this room, and between the four of them, the first coat went on with relative ease. Jace and Alec worked the rollers while Clary and Magnus used brushes to cut in the edges. While they painted, Magnus satisfied his curiosity.

“So you two went to school together?”

Jace looked to Alec, as if gauging how much he could say, and it was the chef who answered.

“Yeah, for a while, but not until senior year.”

Magnus frowned. “So how did you meet each other?”

“We’ve spent every summer together since we were kids,” Jace replied, “camping, swimming in the lake, braiding each other’s hair...”

Alec rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his fondness for the handyman. “Until he discovered girls and football, and then he suddenly had better things to do.”

Jace grinned unrepentantly. “Can you blame me?”

Clary stood up stiffly, setting the brush she’d been using down in the paint tray with a blank expression. “I’m gonna tape up the other room.”

Jace watched her leave with a look of regret. Alec shot him a puzzled glance, but it went unanswered as the handyman picked up the brush Clary had left. As he took over the cutting in, Magnus took the opportunity to redirect the conversation.

“I take it girls and football weren’t your thing?”

Alec gave him an amused smile, before moving over the final wall. “Not so much, no. I used to do a bit of archery–”

“If three-time state champion is ‘a bit’...” Jace muttered under his breath.

“–but I was never one for team sports,” Alec finished, the tip of his ears turning pink.

Magnus arched an eyebrow. “And the girls?”

The chef met his eye. “Never one for them either.”

“Hey Alec, do we know a Simon Lewis?” Jace asked, which in hindsight, was probably for the best. Magnus had been a split second away from asking his new employee out on a date.

“Yeah, he was in AP Maths,” Alec replied. “Why?”

“Wait, seriously?”

Magnus bit back a grin as Alec gave the handyman an unimpressed look. “Don’t be a dick.”

“What, I’m supposed to remember everyone I went to school with?”

“When there are thirty kids in a year, yeah.”

“Thirty names is still a lot of names!”

“I seem to have managed it, and I was only there six months.”

Jace stuck out his tongue, and Alec rolled his eyes, hard. Before Magnus could intervene, the handyman flicked the brush he was using in Alec's direction, sending a spray of blue paint.

Alec jumped back sharply, narrowly avoiding the worst of the splatter. “What the fuck, man?”

Jace flicked the brush again, catching Alec properly this time, and Alec dropped his roller in favour of tacking the handyman to the floor. Magnus tried not to laugh as Alec managed to wrestle the brush off him and painted a clumsy phallus on Jace’s forehead.

“If you’re going to be a dickhead...”

Clary appeared in the doorway, clearly wondering what hell was going on, and Magnus shrugged apologetically before raising his voice. “If you’re quite finished covering each other in paint, shall we order some pizza?”

Twenty minutes later, as the four of them dug into the finest pizza Idris had to offer, Magnus was surprised to find he’d had a pleasant evening. Jace had apologised for making a mess, and Clary was at least attempting to be civil. (He suspected the fact Jace had struggled to wash the paint off his forehead helped).

Alec had borrowed one of Magnus’ t-shirts at his insistence – a rhinestoned number that said ‘blink if you want me’ – although to Magnus’ disappointment, he’d gotten changed in the bathroom. Magnus was trying to think professional thoughts, but it wasn’t easy when the borrowed v-neck exposed a delightful thatch of chest hair, and Alec kept wrapping his lips around a beer bottle just so.

When Magnus bade the three of them goodnight, he had to forcibly stop himself kissing Alec on the cheek as he had done with Clary. For one, he’d probably have to do the same to blondie, and for another, he wasn’t entirely sure where that would end.

The more time he spent with Alec, the more he regretted having just hired him. You weren’t supposed to joke about marrying your employees, and you definitely weren’t supposed to sleep with them afterward. He poured himself a second glass of wine, sighing, and retreated to his room with his laptop.

He knew that Ragnor would call him a moron, and Caterina would remind him he was a professional. He wouldn’t be surprised if Raphael sent him to a sexual harassment seminar – he’d emailed him yesterday to give him a heads up about Alec and Maia, and immediately received an urgent reply and a text from Ragnor.

Given Alec’s shirt was currently in his washing machine, perhaps the lines between them were already more blurred than they should be.

With a shake of his head, he opened up Netflix and clicked play.

Chapter Text

The next week, Alec stopped by after a morning shift to look through the boxes in Magnus’ study. He seemed apprehensive for some reason, and insisted on standing up despite the abundance of seating. When Magnus tried to make conversation, the chef was polite enough, but for the most part he sorted through the books in silence.

Given the mind-numbingly boring phone call Magnus was on, he wasn’t complaining about the eye candy.

He tuned out the voice in his ear, watching curiously as the chef handled each book with a reverence that wouldn’t be out of place at an archaeological dig. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and he was chewing on his lip as if the fates hung precariously on each decision he made.

The pile he’d set aside to take home was an eclectic mixture that Magnus longed to ask him about. Alongside the more obvious choices – Anthony Bourdain’s memoir, 100 Years of Solitude, and a handful of Discworld paperbacks – there was also a Roald Dahl collection, a few yellowed Tintin comics, and a dog-eared copy of Where the Wild Things Are.

“...Magnus, are you even listening to me?”

Magnus sat up straighter, realising Raphael’s monologue had come to an end. “Yes, yes, the tax code, I know.”

“Not just that, the forms for the new employees,” the lawyer repeated tersely. “If you’re going to hire your latest conquests, the least you could do is check they're authorised to work here.”

“My latest–” Magnus cut himself off abruptly, pushing his chair back with an apologetic glance in Alec’s direction. As soon as he was in the hall, and the door was shut behind him, he continued. “Tell Ragnor he’s a miserable pedant who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“So you’re not fucking him then?”

“No.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Magnus opened his mouth, and then hesitated, much to Raphael’s incredulity.

“Madre de Dios it’s not that difficult!”

“You would say that,” Magnus muttered, eying the office door warily. He was fairly certain Alec couldn’t hear Raphael through the phone’s speaker, but he moved to the kitchen anyway.

“I’m serious Magnus, if I get notified of a sexual harassment suit–”

“You won’t,” Magnus said firmly. “I’m not an idiot – I know where the line is.”

There was another pause, and Magnus could tell Raphael was choosing his words carefully.

“I’m worried about you, amigo.”

“I’m fine,” Magnus replied, but it didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

“Quitting your job and chasing after some boy you barely know doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’.”

“I didn’t quit, I took a sabbatical,” Magnus reminded him, “and whatever Ragnor thinks, I didn’t move to Idris for a pretty face.”

“Why then?”

Magnus exhaled, looking out over the lake in the pale sunlight. The leaves had begun to turn, and Jace was cutting the wooden counters for the boathouse kitchenette to size. “Ennui, boredom, grief? Call it a midlife crisis if you like, but I promise I’m doing it for myself, and not for anyone else.”

Raphael hummed, clearly unconvinced. “It would have been cheaper to buy a motorcycle.”

For all Raphael’s needling, Magnus knew the lawyer was only trying to protect him. After a decade in finance, the sudden pivot to hospitality had come as a surprise to nearly everyone Magnus knew, and most had assumed it had something to do with his broken engagement.

The truth was it did, but not in the way they thought – he’d have quit his job years ago if Camille hadn’t talked him out of it. The bitter twist in his heart had eased since he left his work and the city behind, and though he was due to return in six short months, part of him didn’t really want to. For the first time in forever, he felt like he could breathe.

“I know what I’m doing, I promise.”

Raphael sighed. “Be careful, please.”

As he hung up, Jace knocked on the sliding door, and Magnus let him in distractedly, swiping through his notifications.

“Do you know if Alec’s...” Jace trailed off as Magnus inhaled sharply.

“What are you doing this afternoon?”

Jace gave him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Because this is perfect for the lounge, and it’s mine if I can pick it up before three.” He turned his phone around, showing the handyman the marketplace listing.

“Okay... what’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re driving,” Magnus said, as if it was entirely self-explanatory – which of course it was. Having lived in the city his entire adult life, he’d never needed a licence.

“No I’m not,” Jace frowned. “I’m fitting the kitchenette this afternoon, and even if I wasn’t, he needs the truck.” He nodded over Magnus’ shoulder, where Alec had reappeared.

“What’s up?” Alec asked, looking between them.

“Magnus needs to go to Brocelind–”

“–and Jensen is ‘busy’,” Magnus added, with the barest hint of petulance.

“Busy doing the job you pay me for, remember?”

Magnus was about to remind him he could stop at any time when Alec spoke up.

“I could take you if you want.”

“You could?” After he’d been so reluctant to help out with the painting, Magnus was a little taken aback the chef had volunteered so quickly.

“I'm not doing anything else,” Alec shrugged, before looking back at Jace. “You gonna be alright to get home?”

“I’ll ask Clary for a lift.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “Good luck with that.”

Twenty minutes later, Alec had turned onto the new interstate and Magnus was rifling through the CDs in Jace’s truck, which was far more entertaining than it should have been.

“Most of them aren’t mine,” Alec said quickly, glancing over to see Magnus had picked up a collection of ABBA’s greatest hits.

“Of course,” Magnus replied, hiding his grin.

It wasn’t difficult to tell who the albums belonged to. Shania Twain? Jace. Blink 182? Alec. Avicii? Jace. The Smiths? Definitely Alec.

He paused at a Taylor Swift album, eyebrows knitting together. If it had been an earlier album, he’d have guessed blondie, but this seemed like a deep pull for the handyman.

Alec looked over again, and flushed. “My sister likes her.”

“A woman after my own heart” Magnus remarked, sliding it into the player. “You must be close?”

“I don’t see her often,” Alec replied, chewing on his lip. “She’s still in college, and my parents are...”

He trailed off, shrugging, and Magnus softened. “What’s her name?”

“Isabelle.”

Over the next hour or so, Magnus learned that Alec’s sister was in the last year of a Biology degree, and already had a full scholarship to med school for next year. They’d lost touch when Alec left home, but reconnected when Maia recognised her last name at an undergraduate conference. There was a younger brother, Max, who Alec hadn’t seen in years.

In return, Magnus told him about the woman who’d raised him and his friends, who he considered his chosen family. It turned out Alec remembered Raphael and Caterina from the trip, although he staunchly refused to tell Magnus what his first impression of them had been.

“Oh come on, you don’t think he looks like a cabbage? Not even a little bit?”

“Not really,” Alec laughed. “I don’t know, they were customers – I wasn’t looking too closely.”

Magnus eyed Alec speculatively. “What about me?”

Alec glanced at him momentarily, and then dragged his attention back to the steering wheel as the truck listed to one side. “You were... distracting,” he said eventually.

Magnus tried not to feel smug.

By the time they pulled up to the converted barn, Magnus could feel their mutual attraction morphing into something more real – something he knew Raphael wouldn’t like.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked, rapping on the wooden door as he messaged the seller.

“This is the postcode you gave me,” Alec replied.

The door swung open and a woman with brown skin and long dark hair eyed them suspiciously.

“Magnus?” Magnus nodded and she stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. “It’s just around the back.”

They followed her around the side of the barn, to where an odd jumble of furniture was collected on the porch. Magnus made a beeline for the drinks cabinet he’d reserved, thrilled to see it was exactly as described. The globe was painted in rich colours, and the hinges and the casters were in full working order – the perfect mixture of luxury and kitsch.

Alec came to a stop behind him.

“We drove nearly two hours for that?”

“It’s vintage, Alexander,” Magnus replied, as he bent down to examine the mahogany frame.

“Of course it is,” Alec said under his breath. His tone was exasperated, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a reluctant smile.

“We’ll take it,” Magnus said to the woman, counting out cash for the amount they’d agreed on. Behind him, Alec checked his watch.

“You hungry?”

“Starving,” Magnus admitted. “I worked through lunch.”

After Alec had helped him lift the cabinet into the truck bed, he drove them to a bistro he knew nearby. Though he told Magnus he didn’t come this way often, the hostess greeted him with a warm hug and a kiss on each cheek.

“Hello stranger... how are you?”

“Hey Helen,” Alec replied, avoiding Magnus’ curious gaze. “You got a table for two?”

“Absolutely,” the woman replied, picking up two menus and turning on her heel. “I’ll let Aline know you’re here.”

The bistro was modest but classy, with exposed wooden beams and linen tablecloths. Helen sat them at a table by the window and poured them both a glass of water. Before she left, she winked at Alec and mouthed ‘he’s cute,’ to which Alec’s cheeks promptly flushed.

“Pretty sure she thinks we’re on a date,” Magnus remarked, sipping his water to hide a grin.

“Helen’s, uh... enthusiastic.”

The door to the kitchen was flung open, and an Asian woman in chef whites flung her arms around Alec's from behind.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!”

“That’s on me, I’m afraid,” Magnus interjected. “I only decided to come this afternoon, and Alexander kindly offered to drive.”

The woman looked up, her brows lifting slightly as she took in Magnus’ appearance. “Aline Penhallow, and you would be...?”

“Magnus Bane,” he answered, shaking her proffered hand.

“My new boss,” Alec added, with a warning look to Aline.

“Congratulations!” she exclaimed, before turning her attention to Magnus. “You won’t regret it – I’d hire him in an instant if I had the budget.”

“I'm can’t say I’m surprised,” Magnus smiled, “Alexander’s a man of many talents.”

Aline’s gaze flickered to Alec, who suddenly preoccupied with his napkin. “What exactly is it you do?”

“I'm opening a bed & breakfast at Dauphin House in Idris.”

Aline’s smile faltered. “Dauphin House? As in...” She looked at Alec, who nodded mutely.

Magnus looked between them, clearly missing something. “Do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Aline replied, giving him an odd look.

Alec pushed back his chair, nodding to the sign for the toilets. “I’m just gonna...”

Magnus watched him go with a slight frown, and Aline sighed.

“How much has Alec told you about his parents?”

“Not much,” Magnus replied honestly. “I know they kicked him out as a teenager.”

Aline nodded. “I was furious when I heard – if I hadn’t been in Paris, I’d have torn them a new one myself.”

“I take it they’re not exactly progressive.”

She let out a huff of laughter. “That’s one way of putting it. My folks weren’t best pleased when I married Helen, but at least they didn’t disinherit me.”

“You knew them too, then?”

“Family friends,” Aline replied. “We spent holidays together, that kind of thing... you know, I probably have pictures somewhere.”

To Magnus’ delight she pulled out her phone, scrolling back through her photos. Unfortunately Alec was on his way back to the table, and had already cottoned onto what was happening.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, snatching the phone out of her hand.

“But you had such great hair,” she pouted. “Come on, just one.”

Magnus gave his best puppy-dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

With an aggrieved sigh, Alec scrolled through the album and picked a photo to show him seemingly at random. Besides a teenaged Jace and Aline, there was a dark-haired girl Magnus assumed was Isabelle, and then an adorably grumpy Alec. He was dressed in ripped jeans, combat boots and a spiked leather jacket – the perfect picture of a moody teenager who had yet to grow into his height.

Magnus couldn’t help but coo at the familiar scowl, but as soon as he tried to zoom in, Alec pulled the phone back and handed it to Aline.

“Happy?”

“For now,” Magnus said with a wink. One way or another he was getting hold of the rest of those photos.

Aline was looking between the two of them curiously, but she didn’t pry. Instead she checked if Magnus had any allergies or intolerances, and then brought out a selection of small plates for them to enjoy – grilled padron peppers, calamari, fresh bread, and spiced octopus and chickpea stew that blew Magnus’ mind.

“I think I have a new favourite chef,” Magnus quipped.

Alec narrowed his eyes and stole the last pepper. “Aline knows what she’s doing – she studied at Cordon Bleu.”

“Did you ever think of going to culinary school?”

Alec tore off a hunk of bread to mop up the end of the stew, dropping his gaze. “Not culinary school, no, but I’d love to travel to Europe – Italy, France, Spain, Greece if I can afford it.”

“And when you say travel...”

“Eat my weight in cheese.”

Magnus laughed, raising the glass of wine Helen had offered him. “I’ll drink to that. If you ever wanted to stage somewhere, let me know. I’m sure we could figure something out.”

“That’s... incredibly generous of you,” Alec said, and Magnus shrugged.

“I’d be benefitting from it too, and I don’t want you to get bored – I know breakfast and pastries aren’t much.”

Alec bit his lip. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“What if we did more breakfast and pastries?”

Magnus lifted his eyebrows. “Something like this?” He gestured to the empty plates and Alec shook his head. “A full dinner service would be too much, but we could do a tasting menu, maybe once a fortnight? Twelve covers max, three or four courses, seasonal ingredients and local produce...”

“It sounds like something you’ve been thinking about,” Magnus commented, a smile playing on his lips. He loved watching Alec talk about food.

“Is it something you’d consider?”

“I could be persuaded,” Magnus teased.

This time Alec met his eye. “And how would I do that?”

Magnus set his empty wine glass down, making an impulsive decision. “What are you doing this Friday?”

“I’ve got the morning shift again, so I’m free from one.”

“Show me what it would look like then,” Magnus said, his voice a little lower than was entirely proper. “Order whatever you need, charge it to my card, and I’ll think about it.”

He was flirting by now, he knew, but from the look in Alec’s eye, it wasn’t entirely welcome. The chef nodded, his eyes dropping to Magnus’ lips. “I can do that.”

“It’s a date.”

With monumental effort, Magnus pushed back his chair and broke their eye contact. If they stayed any longer, he was going to do something ill-advised like pin Alec against a wall and kiss him senseless.

Even if Alec hadn’t been his employee, that wasn’t a stellar idea – he hadn’t yet gotten his stride back since Camille’s betrayal. Sure, he’d flirt with a brick wall, and his bed was never cold for long, but it had been a while since he’d really put himself out there.

The good thing about one night stands was you never had to see them again, which suited Magnus just fine. If he slept with Alec, he’d have to see him every day for the next six months – longer, if he extended his sabbatical.

He didn’t need a lecture from Raphael to know he should nip whatever this was in the bud, but deep down, he knew he didn’t really want to.

Worse, he wasn’t sure he could.

Chapter Text

Magnus loaded a rye cracker with the last of the mushrooms, black butter and few wild blueberries for extra measure, savouring every last bite.

“I know I sound like a broken record, but this is amazing.”

Alec looked up from the other side of the counter where he was plating up a second course with a pleased smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“What are these again?”

“Chanterelles,” Alec replied. “I picked them a few days ago.”

“You picked them?”

Alec looked amused by Magnus’ surprise. “They’re everywhere right now – I’ll show you some time, if you like.” He set down a shallow bowl in front of Magnus. “Bluefin tuna with fennel and fermented loganberry.”

“Are they also foraged?” Magnus asked, and Alec nodded, waiting for his reaction. Magnus cut into the tuna, admiring the sear, and took his first bite. “Fuck me that’s good.”

“I wasn’t sure if the loganberry worked,” Alec said, cutting some off to try for himself.

“It’s perfect,” Magnus insisted. He took a sip of the red Alec had selected and hummed happily. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”

“I can’t – I’m driving home,” Alec reminded him.

“Ah yes... did Jasper get a lift from Clary in the end?”

“He walked.”

Magnus looked out the sliding doors, where rain was pelting down across the lake, and hid a smirk.

“He’s not that bad, you know,” Alec said, turning back to the range. “Sure he can be a bit full of himself, but he’s a good guy when it matters.”

“So what happened with Sherwin, or whatever he’s called?”

Alec stood up, turning on a stand mixer to whip something up, and Magnus watched curiously. “Simon was president of the dungeons & dragons society, Jace was captain of the football team.”

“He was a boy, she was... also a boy,” Magnus said under his breath.

Alec shot him a sideways glance and then spooned the mixture out onto a plate, carefully topping it with candied ginger, drizzled honey, and what looked like cake. “Whipped brie with mushroom madeleines,” he said as he set it down.

Magnus looked closer, intrigued. “I’ve never had savoury madeleines... are there bits of mushroom through them?”

Alec shook his head. “You dehydrate the mushrooms and then blitz them into a powder. Other than that the batter’s pretty much the same, but without sugar.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows and tried a corner, smearing it with the whipped brie. The taste was unusual, rich and complex, and the texture was light as air.

“What do you think?”

“Genuinely life-changing... why don’t we whip brie all the time?”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” Alec said, smiling as he took some for himself.

Magnus watched him for a moment before picking the conversation back up. “You were saying, Justin’s a stand-up guy.”

“You know he’s called Jace,” Alec said, narrowing his eyes, and Magnus hid a smirk in his wine. “Jace always saw the good in people, even when there wasn’t much to see. I never saw him pick on Si, but some of his friends were assholes, and because Jace is who he is, he always bought their shitty excuses.”

Magnus frowned. “But if it was his friends being assholes and not him, then why does Clary hate his guts?”

Alec sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t see the worst of it, or maybe it was just that Jace could have stopped it at any time if he’d cared to. People listen to him, always have.” He cleared away the plate, and Magnus finished his wine.

“And where exactly were you in this social hierarchy?”

Alec retrieved a tub from the freezer. “Nowhere, really – I couldn’t stand the football team, and everyone knew why my parents had kicked me out, but I was also six foot three and effectively Jace’s brother, so...”

“Handy.”

He set down the final dish – a quenelle of sorbet scattered with blackberries and basil – and handed Magnus a spoon.

“What’s the sorbet?”

“Young birch bark.”

“…birch? Like the tree?”

Alec grinned. “Just try it.”

To Magnus’ surprise, it didn’t taste woody at all, but rather smoky with a hint of sweetness – the perfect pairing to sharp blackberry and mellow basil.

“You’re a lot more than burgers and breakfast, you know.”

Alec looked pleased, flushing beneath his stubble. “Does that mean you’ll think about it?”

“You have a gift, Alexander, I’d be crazy not to.”

After they’d worked out when the first dinner would be, and Magnus had promised to come up with an appropriate price point, he walked Alec to the sliding door.

As usual, Jace’s truck was parked down by the boathouse. It wasn’t far, but Alec would get soaked anyway. The rain hadn’t abated – if anything it was harder now, bouncing off the surface of the lake and collecting in puddles along the dirt track.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Magnus asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice.

Alec pulled up his phone to check maps, and frowned. “It looks like the bypass has flooded.”

“What does that mean?”

“I won’t be able to get to Idris until it clears. I could try driving the long way round, but–”

“Don’t be stupid,” Magnus said quickly. Some of the back roads were lower than the bypass, and just as likely to be flooded. “Stay the night – heaven knows I’ve got the space.”

Alec hesitated, but there really wasn’t any way he could drive safely. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Magnus replied firmly. “Now, if you’re not driving, would you like a drink?”

After some poking and prodding, Alec admitted he was partial to a Manhattan, and Magnus went hunting for the maraschino cherries in the pantry. When he returned triumphant, Alec was tracing some marks on the wooden doorframe with his fingertips.

“I’ve been meaning to get Justin to sand those out.”

“Don’t,” Alec said softly, “I'd miss them.”

Magnus gave his arm a fond squeeze, and then made his way to the parlour, where his new drinks cabinet awaited. “I am a terrible cook,” he called over his shoulder, “but an adequate bartender.” Alec had stopped in the doorway, taking in the view.

“You kept the furniture.”

“For the most part,” Magnus replied. “The sellers didn’t want it, and it seemed too good an offer to refuse.”

Alec lapsed into silence, watching from behind the sofa as Magnus lit the fire and mixed the drinks. He seemed on edge for some reason – his posture was stiff and his eyes staring off into the distance.

“Here,” Magnus said gently, handing him a cocktail glass and sitting down on the sofa. He wasn’t quite sure why Alec was so ill at ease, but he didn’t want to pry.

After the second sip, the line of tension in Alec’s shoulders eased and he took a seat beside him. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s a drink, darling–”

“I’m serious, Magnus. You didn’t have to give me a job, or say yes to a tasting menu, and–” he cut himself off with a sigh. “It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Magnus gave him a soft smile. He hadn’t meant to let an endearment slip out, but Alec hadn’t batted an eye. “I should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

He waved a hand around him. “None of this would be happening without you – blondie and biscuit too, of course, but I don’t think you realise how much you’ve done.”

“I’m just a cook.”

“And I’d have never moved to the middle of nowhere without the promise of another bacon cheeseburger,” Magnus said solemnly.

Alec laughed at that. “So that’s how I should thank you.”

Magnus smirked. “I can think of some other ways if you’re taking suggestions.”

Alec’s eyes found his, and he drained the last of his drink. Magnus set their empty glasses down on the table and waited, heart in his mouth. Ever so slowly, Alec drew near.

The first touch of his lips was impossibly soft and far too short. Magnus brushed their noses together, looking into hazel eyes as he whispered.

“Is this okay?”

In response, Alec kissed him again, one hand cupping the back of his neck and stroking the soft stubble there. He tasted sour-sweet, like cherries and lemon, and Magnus melted into him without hesitation.

Before long there were hands pulling at his hips and he was shifting to straddle Alec’s thighs. He cradled his jaw, deepening the kiss and revelling in the rough scrape of stubble against his palm. Alec’s hands were ceaselessly roaming over his body, alternately skimming across his ribs, winding around his waist and sliding up his thighs.

When they came to rest on the swell of his ass, gripping lightly, Magnus groaned into the kiss and arched his back. Alec’s hands were so perfectly big, spreading across each cheek and warming them through the thin material of his slacks.

“Tell me what you want,” Alec said softly, his voice low with desire.

“Anything,” Magnus breathed, “everything.”

Suddenly Alec was gripping tight around his waist and laying him down on the sofa – or rather trying to, since somewhere in the mix they tumbled to the floor. Alec didn’t pause for even a moment, pressing him bodily into the rug as his tongue worked its way into Magnus’ mouth and he pulled open the buttons of Magnus’ shirt. Magnus surged up and rolled them closer to the fire, pinning Alec between his thighs as he sat up.

“Bedroom?”

Alec stared at him for a moment, still panting, and then shook his head. “I’m good here.” Before Magnus could reply he arched up, mouthing at a nipple, and Magnus swore. He fisted a hand in Alec’s hair, pulling him back into a biting kiss.

“You know there’s beds upstairs, right?”

“I know.”

Alec rolled him over one last time and set about unbuckling his belt with single-minded determination. If Magnus were a stronger man, he’d have been responsible and insisted on a condom. As it was, the moment Alec’s mouth was on him, all sense and reason flew out of his head and his entire being was consumed with want.

Magnus came with two spit-slick fingers buried in his ass and Alec’s free arm splayed across his hips to hold them still. The reciprocation was softer, Alec burying his face in the crook of Magnus’ neck as their combined hands brought him to completion.

They were both too exhausted to move afterwards, instead curling up under a throw from the couch and basking in the warmth of the fire. Magnus traced his fingers up and down Alec’s spine, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. Part of him knew they should talk about what this meant, but he was loath to burst the bubble of content.

“Can I ask you a question?” Alec murmured, nearly half asleep.

“Please do.”

“Why Idris? Why Dauphin House?”

“I’m not sure,” Magnus replied truthfully. “I think in a lot of ways I was lost, and it was the first thing I saw through the fog.”

“Is it what you thought it would be?”

Magnus looked down at the head of messy black hair pillowed against his shoulder and felt his heart skip a beat. “No,” he said softly. “It’s more.”

Some hours later he woke up alone. The living room was cooler now the fire had burned out and the smell of coffee was drifting through from the kitchen. The doorbell rang for a second time, and with a groan Magnus remembered the new bedding was due to be delivered.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stumbled to his feet, pulled on his trousers and went to answer the door. The delivery man had piled the boxes up on the porch, and Magnus mumbled his thanks and he tipped him generously. It was only when the van pulled away that he realised he could hear Alec speaking to someone on the other side of the house.

“...I don’t think I can do this, Iz.”

“You’re doing great hermano,” someone replied through the phone. Isabelle, if Magnus had to guess.

“I’m really not,” Alec replied miserably. “He asked me up to the back room last night and I thought I was going to be sick.”

A shiver slid down Magnus’ spine. Alec said something else, but he barely heard it over the pounding in his ears.

“You don’t owe him anything, you know that right? You can quit whenever you want.”

“I know, but...” There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like sniffling. “I can’t Iz. He’s my boss, and he’s done so much for me, and–”

Magnus forced himself to move back inside and shut the door. Alec was still talking, but he couldn’t bear to hear any more.

He should have listened to Raphael. He should have listened to himself.

Clearly the attraction hadn’t been as mutual as he’d thought, not if the thought of Magnus’ bedroom left Alec nauseated. With a wrench, Magnus forced himself to think back through their conversations, and all the things he'd offered the chef – the job, the salary, the stages, the tasting menu, even the books from the library.

What if Alec thought all that was conditional upon his response to Magnus’ advances?

He walked through to the kitchen in a daze. Alec had heated up two of the almond croissants he’d baked the day before last, and coffee was fresh in the pot. When he saw him through the glass, Alec hung up and came back inside.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Magnus couldn’t tell if he was imagining that warmth in his voice sounded forced.

“I think you should leave, Alec.”

“What?”

When Magnus met his eye, his own confusion and hurt were echoed in Alec’s face. “I think you should leave,” he repeated softly. “Last night was a mistake.”

Chapter Text

The week before the grand opening, Clary was due to take photographs of all the rooms, and had conscripted her friend to help with the lighting. Unaware of Magnus’ inner turmoil, she’d suggested they capture some shots of Alec in the kitchen, which meant Magnus couldn’t hide any longer.

He’d been avoiding Alec since the weekend, shutting himself in the office whenever the chef came in to prep and ignoring a series of increasingly concerned texts. Texts that, of course, remained achingly professional. He knew he couldn’t go on like this, but he wasn’t sure what else to do.

The only way he could have some semblance of a professional relationship with Alec was to treat him as what he was – an employee. He couldn’t text him, he couldn’t flirt with him, and he absolutely couldn’t tell him he’d thought what they had was real.

When Magnus found out that Camille was having an affair with her secretary, it had utterly broken him. He’d called off the engagement in a haze of heartbreak, swearing he’d never be so goddamn trashy. Six months later, blithely unaware of his own hypocrisy, he’d fallen into bed with Alec without thinking twice.

Or ‘onto rug,’ should he say, because it turned out that actually taking him to bed was a step too far. Magnus had used his money, his power, and his position of authority to get laid, and Alec – sweet, earnest Alec – had been so repulsed by the act, he’d gotten it over with as quickly as he could and called his sister in tears the next day.

What’s ridiculous was that Magnus had been toying with the idea of never going back to his job. Staying in Idris permanently, running the Bed & Breakfast full time, and seeing how things with Alec turned out. How could he have been so stupid?

Clary touched him on the arm, a look of concern on her face. “Are you alright?”

Magnus snapped himself out of his thoughts and flashed her a quick smile. “Don’t worry about me, biscuit. Now where did you want to start?”

Clary had them photograph the upstairs bedrooms first, getting the laborious task of documenting the bed and bath configurations out of the way. Magnus oversaw in silence for the most part, happy to let her run the show.

They were working on the third room, the ensuite, when there was a knock at the door and Alec appeared. His cheeks were flushed and his hair wind-swept, like he’d just come in from the cold. Magnus wanted to kiss him. Or maybe just cease to exist.

Before he could do either, Clary’s friend poked his head around the light box he was carrying.

“Alec? Are you working here?”

“Uh, yeah, in the kitchen,” Alec replied. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Yeah, my mum’s back in rehab, so...”

Simon shrugged awkwardly, and Alec's face dropped. “I'm sorry to hear that, man.” His eyes flickered to Magnus, but when he spoke it was to the room as a whole. “How much food do you want me to prep?”

Magnus stayed silent, letting Clary field the question. “Uh, anything you want to advertise, I guess. Maybe some of the breakfast stuff? And something from the tasting menu too.”

Alec nodded, and then lowered his voice so only Magnus could hear. “Can we talk?”

Magnus’ eyes flickered back to Simon and Clary, who were (entirely unconvincingly) pretending not to pay attention. To his immense relief, Raphael chose that moment to call him. “Sorry, I should take this...”

As soon as Alec was out the door, Magnus declined the call – weirdly, the third one that morning – and ignored Clary’s look of curiosity. He didn’t know why Raphael was suddenly so desperate to get a hold of him, but he had little desire to be lectured about the dangers of sleeping with an employee. Especially when it had already blown up in his face.

Thankfully Simon filled the silence.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me the chef was Alec Lightwood.”

“I didn’t realise you cared,” Clary replied. “You said – and I quote – whichever one of Wayland’s loser pals talked his way into that job, I hope he sets himself on fire.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows and Simon wrinkled his nose. “I guess I did say that, huh.”

“Your confidence in my hiring practices is unparalleled,” Magnus replied drily, not that he really had a leg to stand on.

Hiring people because they were pretty was how he’d ended up in this mess.

Once they’d finished upstairs, they made their way down to the kitchen, where Alec had plated up a few dishes with Jace’s help. The moment they entered the room, the handyman's eyes nearly fell out his head.

“Wait, that’s Simon?”

Clary rolled her eyes and Simon gave him a wary look. “Hello to you too?”

Jace turned to Alec, more than a little indignant. “Why didn’t you say it was Monty?”

“Because that’s not his name,” Alec replied irritably, still trying to catch Magnus’ eye.

“But isn’t that what everyone called you?” Jace asked Simon, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Sure... after your asshole friends found my character sheet and referred to me as Lord Montgomery for the whole of junior year.”

There was an awkward silence as Jace stared at him, mouth agape. “Which friends?”

“Does it matter?”

“...I guess not.”

Clary tested the flash, shooting Simon a sympathetic look, and then took a deep breath. “Can we get on with it now?”

While Clary photographed the food, Alec made a beeline toward Magnus, clearly hoping for a conversation. Magnus tried to slip out of the room, but Alec caught him at the doorway to his office.

“Magnus... wait.”

He fixed a polite smile on his face. “How can I help you?”

Alec searched his eyes, looking for something that Magnus couldn’t identify. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“You’re taking photos for the website, Alec, and I have work to do.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“But you never call me that.”

Clary called Alec back to the kitchen, and Magnus gently pulled his wrist back from where the chef had been holding it. “I think it’s probably time I start.”

He hid out in his office as long as he thought he could get away with, catching up with his emails and studiously ignoring the one from Raphael marked ‘RE A. Lightwood.’ By the time he returned, Alec was washing up in the kitchen and Clary was moving onto the library, which had been transformed into a fifth bedroom.

It was the first time Magnus had seen it all put together, and it was scarcely recognisable as the austere book-lined room it had been when he’d purchased the house. Simon let out a low whistle as he looked around. “This is way nicer than it used to be.”

“Clary did an excellent job,” Magnus replied, leaning against a wall.

Jace, who’d volunteered to help Simon carry the light boxes, looked up from where he was adjusting the base. “Hey I helped too.”

“How could I forget you carrying the chairs?” Clary asked sarcastically.

Jace looked offended. “Did you forget I moved a wall?”

Magnus rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Simon. “You’ve seen the house before then?”

“Once or twice,” Simon replied, “birthday parties, and that kind of thing. Jace knows it better than me.”

Magnus hummed. “I suppose – we’ve only been working on it a few months though.”

“Right, but he might as well have lived here as a kid.”

Magnus frowned. “Did he know the owners?”

Simon looked up, evidently confused. “Well, yeah... he’s Alec’s best friend.”

Jace and Clary were still bickering in the background, but Alec had reappeared in the hallway. He was watching Magnus and Simon talk with something that looked a lot like apprehension.

“Sorry, I don’t quite follow you,” Magnus said.

“The Lightwoods owned Dauphin House... didn’t you buy it from Alec’s parents?”

Magnus stared at him, speechless. In the hallway, Alec looked like he was about to make a run for it. and Magnus had a good idea why.

He strode out the room, addressing the chef as he passed. “A word, if you would.”

When they reached the kitchen, Magnus eyed the open porch and then pulled Alec into the pantry. He needed to hear this straight from the source, and they did not need an audience. Alec was fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater, clearly dreading the conversation.

“This is your parent’s house,” Magnus stated, his mind still trying to put the facts together.

“Second house,” Alec replied, as if that made a jot of difference.

“You should have told me.”

Alec dropped his gaze. “At first, I thought you knew,” he said quietly. “Lightwood’s not exactly a common name.”

“Raphael did all the paperwork,” Magnus replied, sighing as the penny dropped. He’d sent over Alec’s registration forms last night, which explained why Raphael had been ringing him non-stop. “Why didn’t anybody say anything?”

“I asked them not to,” Alec replied. “Jace persuaded me to take the job, and I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Magnus let out a startled laugh. “You think they aren’t weird now? You lied to me for weeks–”

“I didn’t lie,” Alec said stubbornly. “Everything I said was true, is true.”

“Yes I’m sure you’re very grateful to the guy who destroyed your family home.”

“That’s not– you don’t understand.” Alec insisted, shaking his head. “This house isn’t exactly full of happy memories for me. I still remember my dad throwing my clothes out of the bedroom window while my mom pretended to be asleep.”

Despite his confusion, Magnus reached out a hand to Alec’s forearm.

The chef leant into the contact like it was giving him strength. “For years, I couldn’t walk past the house – hell, I couldn’t even look at it.”

“Then why on earth would you take a job here?”

Alec shrugged half-heartedly. “I needed a job in Idris, and it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Magnus had to swallow the bitterness that rose up in his throat. “Alexander, if I’ve ever made you feel pressured, or coerced or–”

“What? No...” Alec drew closer, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “You’ve been amazing, Magnus. You’ve been nothing but patient, and you let me hold on to the bits that mattered – making pancakes on the weekend, the books I read to Max, the height chart Isabelle kept in here...”

Magnus’s eyes flickered to the wooden door frame, where for the first time he saw the initials against the series of marks: A, I, and M, for Alec, Isabelle and Max.

“You lived here.”

“In the holidays, yeah.”

“So the other night, when I asked you upstairs...”

He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice, and the colour drained from Alec's face as he quickly put two and two together. “You heard me talking to Iz.”

Magnus nodded sadly, searching his eyes for the truth.

“It’s nothing to do with you, I promise,” Alec said, shifting his weight. “I’m just still getting used to being here again. The kitchen is one thing, but... I really didn’t want to have sex in my parents’ bed.”

The laugh that left Magnus was half delirious, and Alec clearly wasn’t expecting it. There was a beat of silence, and then he was laughing too. Magnus leant his forehead against his chest, biting his lip as Alec rested a hand in the small of his back.

“So I’m not the creepy boss who wouldn’t stop hitting on you?”

“Not at all,” Alec replied. “Why would you think that?” Magnus shrugged miserably, and Alec cupped a hand under his jaw, guiding him to look up so he could see his eyes. “I want this Magnus. I want you.”

Magnus swallowed around the lump in his throat, and then Alec was bending down and he was rising up on the balls of his feet to meet him in a kiss. What started as soft and tender soon caught fire as Alec’s arms tightened around his waist. Alec seemed intent on mapping out every corner of his mouth and Magnus was powerless to deny him.

Even if he’d heard the others calling their names, he wouldn’t have been able to respond, far too preoccupied by the heated press of Alec’s tongue. There was a creak as the door was pulled open and someone – Jace – yelped and slammed it shut.

Magnus reluctantly pulled back, but Alec chased him, turning Magnus’ knees to jelly with one last smouldering kiss.

“What are you–” Clary opened the door again and cut herself off as she saw what Jace was looking at. “Oh for fuck’s sake, get a grip.”

“Well excuse me if I don’t want to watch my best friend stick his tongue down someone’s throat.”

“I had to watch you and Maia,” Alec said under his breath, which Magnus made a note to circle back to later.

“That’s different,” Jace insisted, much to Simon’s derision.

“Why? Cos you’re straight and they’re not?”

“What? No, I–”

“Bullshit,” Clary muttered.

“Why would you think I cared about that?” Jace asked, looking utterly bewildered. “My dad’s gay.”

Magnus took a step forward to try and wrangle the situation. To his left, Simon was the picture of confusion. “Wait, Mr Wayland’s gay?”

“May I suggest we finish the photography?” Magnus said pointedly, before the situation could devolve any further.

Simon and Jace had already moved the lights to the living room, so all that remained was for Magnus to approve the framing of the shots. Alec watched him from the side of the room, flushing when Jace punched him in the shoulder but apparently unwilling to let Magnus out of his sight.

Magnus had no idea where he and Alec were going, or whether the bed and breakfast would be a success, but he did know one thing – he wouldn’t be leaving Idris any time soon.

Chapter Text

Magnus watched in awe as Alec garnished the tenth and final bowl with Irish moss. Inside each bowl was a roasted apple dashi with sea truffle rice noodles – a vegetarian main on account of Ragnor, which followed the chanterelle mushrooms Magnus had tried last weekend.

“Service,” Alec said, stepping back to allow Magnus and Maia to take the bowls over to their guests.

The table was full of all the people dearest to him, as well as a few friends he’d met along the way. Ragnor was deep in conversation with Michael, Jace’s dad, who taught history at Alicante High. Simon was attempting to explain to an increasingly bewildered Jace that dungeons and dragons wasn’t a video game (except it was, but not all the time, and not when he’d played it in school).

Clary was making conversation with Isabelle, whose presence had come as a surprise to her brother. It had taken a few favours from Jace – and a coach ticket from Boston – but Magnus had pulled it off without a hitch. At his insistence, she was sleeping in her childhood bedroom, the ensuite, free of charge.

Isabelle had been delighted to see Aline, who’d come to see Alec’s debut with her wife. The restauranteur was sat closest to the kitchen area, watching as Alec prepared the dishes and occasionally asking the odd question. Every now and then, when there was a lull in the conversation, Helen would send her an look of utter adoration over her glass of wine.

At the far end of the table, next to Caterina, was Magnus’ mom, who’d flown in from New Orleans especially. She’d been vocally sceptical of Alec’s cooking, but had loved the first dish she’d tried. After the second, she pulled Magnus aside to tell him Alec should learn how to cook ‘real food’, like beef rendang, nasi goreng, or (of course) a classic Louisiana shrimp boil.

Thankfully Alec had taken the comment as the compliment it was, rather than an insult to his talents.

Once Maia had finished loading the used plates into the dishwasher, she came to join him leaning up against the counter. “So... you and Alec.”

“We’re enjoying each other’s company,” Magnus said vaguely, ignoring her shit-eating grin.

The truth was, he’d scarcely had time to see Alec between last minute preparations from the opening. And when they had found the odd moment, there hadn’t been a whole lot of talking.

Still, he couldn’t dent the warm feeling he had watching Alec interact with his friends and family. He’d withstood Ragnor’s pointed comments, accepted Cat’s hug with a friendly smile, and even volunteered to pick Magnus’ mom up from the airport.

As far as first impressions went, Alec had outstripped Camille with ease. Magnus couldn’t remember a single time his mother had complimented his ex, but the minute she’d seen Magnus, she’d switched into Indonesian to sing Alec’s praises – “so tall, so handsome, so polite... I like this one!”

Magnus shut his eyes as warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear and Alec dropped a kiss to his temple. “Hey,” he said softly without turning around.

“Hey,” Alec murmured, one hand snaking its way around Magnus’ waist.

Maia screwed up her nose. “Ugh, gross.”

“Just paying you back,” Alec said, and Magnus suddenly remembered his comment the other day.

“What’s this I hear about you and blondie?”

Maia glared at Alec. “First of all, I was fifteen, and second, I thought we’d collectively agreed to erase that from our memories?”

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “You dated him when had the mullet?”

Maia opened her mouth and then abruptly shut it. “I plead the fifth.”

As she disappeared to the living room to set up a makeshift bar, Magnus could feel Alec vibrating with quiet laughter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” he said, twisting around to look up at the chef. “I saw the eyebrow piercing too.”

“...I’m gonna kill Aline.”

When they’d finished up their meal, the party moved to the living room, where Magnus had paid Maia to make drinks for the rest of the evening. Isabelle stayed behind in the kitchen with Alec – ostensibly to help him clear up, although Magnus had little doubt she’d be quizzing him on their relationship at the same time.

“So,” Magnus said as he joined Ragnor and Caterina on the couch. “What do you think?”

“Well it’s better than a campsite,” Ragnor jibed, and Cat elbowed him in the ribs.

“It’s fantastic Magnus. You should be proud of yourself.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “I know you thought I was crazy, but–”

“I never thought you were crazy,” Cat interrupted, shaking her head.

“I did,” said Ragnor, prompting a look from Cat.

“What he means to say,” she continued, “is that we were worried – worried you were running from Camille, and to a fantasy that might not exist.”

Magnus shrugged. “Maybe I was.”

Ragnor put a hand on his knee. “Look around Magnus, this is real. I had my doubts...”

“And you made them very clear,” Caterina said pointedly.

“...but I underestimated how hard you work. If this is a fantasy, it’s one that you’ve built from the ground up, and one that you entirely deserve.”

Magnus gave him a fond smile, covering his hand with his own. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from a grumpy old codger like–”

“And we’re done,” Caterina said firmly as Ragnor narrowed his eyes.

At that moment, Alec and Isabelle reappeared, the chef rolling his eyes as his sister said something to him. The moment he saw Magnus, a smile stretched across his face, and Magnus waggled his fingers, mouthing “hi.”

Caterina watched the exchange with obvious affection. “Mark my words, that boy’s going to marry you.”

“Can we not,” Magnus replied hastily. “One broken engagement is quite enough.”

Later, when Magnus went to replenish his old fashioned, he found Jace leaning against the bar looking miserable. On the other side of the room, Clary was sitting on the side of Simon’s armchair, laughing as Helen and Aline told the story of their disastrous first date.

Magnus and Maia exchanged a knowing look. “You know that’s never happening,” Maia said, “like, ever.”

Jace looked up, flushing a little as he realised he’d been caught staring. “Uh, yeah, I know.”

“If it helps,” Magnus said, lying through his teeth, “I don’t think it’s necessarily to do with you – Clary’s only here until next week.”

Jace gave him a confused look. “Okay?”

“She’s also gay as shit,” Maia said bluntly, which Magnus was immediately intrigued by.

“She is?”

“Well, at least not straight,” she amended, handing him back his glass. “She’s been hitting on Izzy all night.”

“I’m not interested in Clary,” Jace said, placing an odd emphasis on the last word.

Magnus frowned. “Then who...”

He trailed off as he looked back over to the armchair. Clary had left to speak to Alec and Isabelle, but Jace’s gaze was hadn’t moved. In the chair, Simon was sipping his mojito with the world’s goofiest grin. Magnus gave Maia an incredulous look, and she shrugged.

Jace looked away, taking another sip of his beer. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Eventually, Magnus wound his way back to Alec, who had just introduced Michael to Magnus’ mum. Both being teachers who’d raised children as single parents, they were getting on like a house on fire.

Magnus rested a hand gently on the small of Alec’s back, and the chef leant back into the contact. “What do you say we slip away?”

 Alec eyes dipped to his lips, and then he nodded with a smile. When they left the living room, Magnus led him through the kitchen instead of up the stairs, tugging gently at his hand.

“Where are we going?” Alec asked.

“You’ll see,” Magnus replied, hiding a grin.

When they started down the path to the boat house, Alec was even more confused. “I thought Aline and Helen were staying here?”

Magnus unlocked the door and paused before opening it. “I put them in the back room.”

“But–”

Alec cut himself off as Magnus opened the door and switched on the lights. Clary had helped him move his things across earlier that week, and Cat had brought some of his trinkets and paintings from his storage unit in the city.

While he’d barely changed anything in the master bedroom, here his presence was unmistakable – a Kandinsky print he’d bought with his first bonus, a violently patterned Afghan at the foot of the bed and a tangle of necklaces and makeup palettes strewn across the vanity.

Alec stepped forward, looking around silence. Magnus closed the door and slipped off his shoes, leaving the keys in an enamel dish by the door that Ragnor had brought back from one of his travels.

“I thought you might be more comfortable here,” Magnus said. Alec was moving towards him before he’d even finished his sentence.

His warm hands framed Magnus’ face as he bent down for a kiss, brief but intense. “Thank you.”

Magnus didn’t have time to reply before Alec’s lips captured his once more. The chef seemed to be pouring every unspoken word and every unvoiced emotion into the kiss, and Magnus met him with equal heat, clinging to his shoulders.

Without warning, Alec bent his knees and lifted Magnus into his arms. Magnus wrapped his legs around Alec’s waist and groaned loudly into his mouth. He didn’t even realise Alec was moving until he was thrown onto the bed, bouncing lightly on the new mattress.

“Hot,” he said as Alec kicked off his boots. The chef grinned and covered Magnus’ body with his own.

The press of Alec’s body was becoming familiar by now – the week had been spotted with heated make out sessions and, on one memorable occasion, a near-frenzied hand job in Magnus’ office. (Thankfully neither Jace nor Clary had needed anything, since the door to said office didn’t lock properly).

None of it had been like this.

For the first time since that night by the fire, they could be together, without the threat of an impending phone call or delivery, and without the weight of misunderstandings hanging over them. Tonight, Magnus was determined to take his time.

Alec undressed him layer by layer, sucking open mouthed kisses any and everywhere he could reach. Eager to return the favour, Magnus rolled Alec onto his back and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his torso smattered with dark hair.

He followed his fingers with his mouth, laying his tongue flat against a nipple and rubbing his nose into Alec’s belly hair as he unbuckled his belt. Alec looked down through hooded eyes and lifted his hips to help Magnus remove his jeans.

When Magnus nosed against the visible bulge in his boxers, Alec swore under his breath, throwing his head back against the pillow. Still, Magnus teased him, scraping his teeth along his hip bone and curling fingers into his waistband until he was begging for more.

Alec tasted like nothing he’d ever known – salty, as expected, but overlaid with something rich that was utterly intoxicating. With a hum of pleasure, he wrapped his lips around him and set about driving him utterly insane.

Before long Alec was keeping up a steady stream of curse words, one hand woven into Magnus’ hair and other gripping helplessly at his shoulders. Just as Magnus was about to hollow his cheeks, Alec tugged his hair and Magnus pulled back, looking up at him with wild eyes.

“C’mere,” Alec gasped, guiding him up into a filthy kiss. When Magnus’ fingers wrapped around him, Alec batted at his arm, shaking his head. “Too close.”

“Isn’t that kind of the idea?”

“Not yet.”

Alec’s hands slid under the silky material of Magnus’ boxers, sliding them down to his thighs and helping Magnus kick them off. Then his hands were on Magnus’ hips, pushing him further up as, at the same time, he wiggled down the bed. For a split second Magnus was confused, but then Alec pressed his tongue flat against his taint and his eyes slammed shut as the penny dropped.

Alexander fucking Lightwood.

Alec ate him out like he was a starving man, and Magnus rode his face within an inch of his life, canting his hips to give him better access. His stubble was just the right side of rough, and his hands held Magnus close as he worked him open with his tongue.

When Magnus was achingly desperate and could take it no longer he pushed himself up on shaky thighs and leant sideways to reach in his drawer, fumbling for the condoms and lube stashed there.

Alec looked an utter wreck, his straining erection hard against his stomach and leaking into his belly hair. He rolled the condom on and covered himself with lube, watching with dark eyes as Magnus laid back on the bed.

“You want me on top?”

Magnus nodded breathlessly, sliding pillow under his hips and spreading his legs. Alec lowered himself over his body, supporting himself on his elbows and surprising Magnus with a soft kiss.

“Hey,” Magnus whispered, and Alec ducked back down, smiling into another kiss.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

The inexorable press as he sank into Magnus was nearly overwhelming, but still Magnus urged him on, heels pressing into Alec’s ass. He bottomed out with a quiet curse, and Magnus’ eyes fluttered shut with the feeling of fullness. He took a few shallow breaths, unable to manage more.

Alec brushed the hair from his eyes. “You okay?” Magnus nodded mutely, shutting his eyes, and Alec stroked along his cheekbone with a warm thumb. “How can I help?”

Magnus tilted his chin up, looking him straight in the eye. “You can fuck me.”

There was a flash of heat in Alec’s eyes, and he kissed him messy and hard, sending Magnus’ head spinning. The first snap of his hips had Magnus crying out, but Alec didn’t stop, fucking him into the mattress with dogged determination.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing they weren’t staying in the house – there was no way Magnus could keep quiet when Alec was screwing him six ways from Sunday.

He drew his legs up a little higher, wrapping them around Alec’s ribs, and Alec paused to hook a knee over his shoulder. The change in angle had Magnus seeing stars and he sucked in a lungful of air, screwing his eyes shut.

“Oh fuck... right there Alexander, yes...”

Alec’s thrusts were getting rougher now as he pounded into him, and with the way Magnus’ leg was stretched over his shoulder, it felt like he was being split in two. It had been a long time since he’d come hands free, and yet somehow his orgasm was in tantalising reach.

Alec slammed into him one last time with a guttural groan and his fingers dug into Magnus’ thighs tight as he came. Magnus barely had to touch himself before he was there too, spilling onto his abs.

It took a little manoeuvring before they could safely collapse, Alec unhooking Magnus’s knee from his shoulder and whispering an apology as he did. They traded soft kisses for a while, and then Alec left to fetch a warm washcloth.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Magnus murmured, when the lights were turned off, and they were curled up under the sheets with Alec’s hips bracketing his own.

“Me too,” Alec replied. “Guess I should thank my parents.”

Magnus snorted. “I’m sure they’d be thrilled you were railing your boss in their boathouse.”

“Your boathouse,” Alec corrected gently.

Magnus hummed. “It should have been yours.”

“Still can be – just gotta marry you.” Magnus froze, and Alec’s huffed into back of his neck. “That was a joke, Magnus.”

Magnus twisted around and gave Alec a suspicious look, and semi-convinced this was somehow Cat’s doing. Alec pressed a kiss against his shoulder, trying not to laugh, and Magnus laid back down, shutting his eyes.

“I still want those goats.”