Chapter Text
Magnus, ever since he met Alexander months ago, hasn't even looked at another person — not with any intent to take things further at least. Obviously —everyone else besides Magnus— would know the reason as to why. Magnus, however, firmly believes he has moved on.
Until the seventh week of this so-called truce he has with Alexander, that is. The exact moment the realization that his attempt to move on had been ineffective dawns on Magnus, is when the sound of a glass crashing against the floor, followed closely by a familiar, distinct cursing reaches his ear.
And Magnus makes the mistake to look in its direction.
The thing is, it's late, and he and Alexander are supposed to close the bar together. That itself is a rare occasion — since that day, they had both avoided closing together as much as they could. Magnus had never tried to pinpoint why, because their current relationship is nothing like the animosity before The Promise. Not that Magnus had lacked opportunity to pick it right back up with the rumor Rey spread around at the time about Alexander trying to switch shifts with Penhallow. No, instead Magnus had made a deliberate decision not to acknowledge it, and felt rather proud of his own level of maturity. Therefore, he and Alexander can co-exist fairly civilized by now — but — it's been two weeks since Magnus apologized and there's this invisible wall between them. They don't talk because Magnus had a promise to keep.
Not talking, however, hasn't stopped Magnus from looking , and right now, he is cursing his eyes for yet again drifting over to Alec at any given reason.
Because Alexander is standing a mere few feet away, the front of his shirt soaked. Said shirt is now leaving nothing to Magnus' imagination, the short distance giving the opportunity to see every defined line of muscle — glorious pecs — Magnus' useless brain unhelpfully supplies, along with the glittering from the water droplets stuck in the visible chest hair and the sheen of wetness to the skin. Magnus is a weak man; the urge to lick the other man dry is instantaneous. Not to mention, even if he's gotten glimpses of them before, the contours of the abs underneath the fabric clinging to them, makes Magnus' jaw drop to the floor.
His brain function shuts down the moment Alexander pulls the shirt out of the waistband and starts unbuttoning the few buttons left.
Alexander is a true conundrum, one Magnus doesn't quite know if he wants to figure out. Frankly, the problem is that Alexander, ever since Magnus' apology, had stopped flirting with his patrons. Back, on full-time, had professional, curt, Alexander been. If Magnus is elated about the fact that Alexander had stopped flirting with everyone, it's something he refuses to admit. Admitting that means caring, and caring means feeling. Which Magnus obviously doesn't do. Nope. Not at all.
As if the non-existing flirting isn't enough to mess with Magnus' peace of mind — Alexander's regulars aren't coming around anymore. At first, they started coming in less frequently, but the past few days they hadn't been there at all. A gleeful part of Magnus hopes Blondie is gone for good. If someone has an opinion about that, well, sue him.
However, and this is the conundrum, one thing hadn't gone back to what Magnus perceived as normal because Alexander still wears those sinful pants and semi-buttoned shirts.
Tonight is no exception, and it means Alexander has no more than four-ish buttons to unbutton once he gets started. His long fingers work quickly, and the amount of buttoned buttons are rapidly decreasing. Magnus suddenly feels a little hot under the collar, and his eyes are glued to Alexander's hands.
Alexander is about to take the fucking shirt off.
He. Is. Taking. The. Shirt. Off.
Sweet Lord.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Yes. Please.
Magnus is ultimately lost from this world when Alexander's shirt falls open completely. He is sure he died and entered heaven, or at least that he's been blessed with the presence of an actual angel.
There's no other explanation for the angelic torso revealed to him.
The deathblow comes soon enough when Alexander decides to kill him for real. He takes the cloth and starts dabbing himself over the chest. Magnus has never ever in his life longed more to be a cloth, than he did in that very moment.
Magnus' eyes are glued to said cloth and his heart beats in rhythm with the frenetic dabbing going on. Then it suddenly stops — as does Magnus' breathing.
Magnus forces his eyes away from the glorious abs, only to end up meeting Alexander's gaze.
The other man has caught on to Magnus' shameless staring, the prettiest blush spreads over Alexander's pale skin, all the way down from his chest up to the tip of his ears. Though, much to Magnus' surprise, he doesn't shy away.
He doesn't even close his shirt.
No, he does rather the opposite — he holds Magnus' gaze.
And till his dying breath, Magnus will swear Alexander took a second to flex his abs.
The air between them is suddenly too thick to breathe.
Magnus swallows.
The second Alexander moves, Magnus breaks out of his stare before he would do something stupid. At this moment, that would be just about anything else rather than leaving this fucking room.
"Err, I'm just going to…" he mumbles and runs past Alexander, to the sanctity of the empty kitchen.
Magnus doubles over the nearest counter, banging his forehead against the hard surface. He needs to get a fucking grip.
Or, the thought has crossed his mind more than he likes to admit, he might need to change his work.
Alexander is the only thing Magnus' brain can focus on, and it's becoming a problem. As soon as he relaxes, or stops, just for a second, his mind is there on those eyes, those lips, those hands. That smile.
Magnus doesn't even know the man, and yet, he's kind of obsessed.
With a loud groan, Magnus pulls himself back up. He must finish closing up, he can't leave Alexander alone with it. He's got only one more shift, then he's off for two weeks. Hopefully that will give him enough time to get rid of this stupid crush he seems to be suffering from.
He should have known better than that, though.
Not only is his stomach doing somersaults at the sight of Alexander's broad shoulders as he steps into the bar two weeks later, but also his reptilian brain makes sure his blood pressure peaks to unhealthy levels at the sight of Blondie at the counter.
Magnus knows he spent perhaps too many hours ranting about Alexander and possibly also Blondie with Cat over the past two weeks, and he knows that's not probably what she signed up for when she decided to invite him. But his best friend's supportive and sometimes nosy questions mixed with lots and lots of wine seemed to loosen his tongue enough to have Cat snapping at him 'to sort this out'. Or, well, Cat doesn't snap, but Magnus still pouted when she had that stern look on her face. There is nothing to sort out.
Yet, the sight of a belly laughing Blondie is the last thing Magnus wants to see. His mood instantly takes a turn for the worst, his hands fisting into tight balls and he stomps off towards his side of the bar with a scowl on his face.
"Magnus!" Alexander calls out, his voice cheerful enough to have Magnus stop in his steps and turn around, looking at his colleague. It's really hard to remember why he is so angry, when he , for once, is the one being attacked by one of those rare, bright and wide smiles. It has the same effect on him as the sun does to ice cream.
Magnus suddenly feels the need to say something, but he never gets the chance. "Oh, you're here. Good!" Rey's voice interrupts whatever Magnus is thinking. "Alec, could you step over here for a second?"
Alexander nods, and suddenly he's standing next to Magnus. Oh, his hair, Magnus thinks. It's a little longer than last time he saw him, curling slightly behind the ears. Magnus leans in close, catching the scent of something he can't place but suddenly craves. Alexander smells divine.
"Andrew just called," Rey continues, once again disturbing Magnus. Though this time he might have actually saved Magnus from doing something completely embarrassing, "he won't be able to come in tonight. Stomach flu. He hasn't found anyone to cover his shift yet, so we three will have to manage tonight."
That, if nothing else, brings Magnus back to reality like a cold bucket of water poured over his head.
"But it's Friday night!?"
Rey looks at him, displeased. "And you think that matters somehow?"
"If it had been anyone else sick, you would have lost it," Magnus grumbles.
"You're such an ass, Bane," Rey hisses.
"That's maybe true, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong," Magnus challenges, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at Rey.
Alexander steps in between them, hands placatingly raised. "We'll make it work. Send Andrew my best."
"Thank you, Alec. Will do," Rey says. "Oh, and Magnus, since 'this is your space' as you delicately expressed it, I find it only naturally that you're the one splitting your time between helping me and Alec out."
Magnus sighs and rolls his eyes, not for the first time hating the fact that Rey was recently named bar manager and had some sort of authority over him. It's ridiculous. He glances at Alexander as he turns to go back to his side, and for some odd reason he looks oddly happy about the news of working extra hard tonight.
With his mind still trying to catch up — mind you it's only his first day in over two weeks after all — Magnus' gaze follows Alexander back to his spot behind the counter.
"Ask him out, for fuck's sake," Rey hisses.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Magnus scoffs, but immediately averts his eyes, feeling a little embarrassed to be caught staring.
"Then you're more of an idiot than I thought. We don't have time for your pining tonight," Rey taunts. "Focus on the patrons or I'll have you fired."
"Jeez," Magnus mutters under his breath, "what crawled up your ass?" But he still gets to work, knowing perfectly well that Rey could indeed fire him.
The bar is crowded, almost like the entire city decided to step inside their place, as if they knew they were short staffed. Magnus mixes drinks, stacks glasses, and taps beer at an unhealthy speed, he's bound to make a mistake.
It happens when he reaches for a glass, too stuck with the one underneath, resulting in the entire stack falling over. Magnus is impressed by his own quick reflexes as he catches them all before falling to the floor.
"Nice catch," Alexander murmurs from behind, his breath brushing over the back of Magnus' neck, and he slips his hand around the stack of glass to help him get everything back.
The surprising compliment almost makes Magnus drop the glass he's still holding in his hand to the floor. He snaps his head in Alexander's direction, but the man is busy serving again. Magnus' mind is swimming, had he imagined it all? Did Alexander just—? No, he didn't, right? But the tingling feeling on his skin tells him the truth.
"Thank you?" Magnus says, hating the fact that it comes out more as a question than a statement. And that it was an eternity later. What is wrong with him? Magnus makes the mistake to look over at Blondie, who has a shit-eating grin on his face and also the audacity to wink at him. To avoid starting a bar fight and certain dismissal from hitting that annoying hunk in the face, Magnus busies himself with drinks, ignoring the heat he can feel in his cheeks. This is getting just as ridiculous as before his vacation.
And if that one line was messing with Magnus' head, the rest of the night and weekend continued along the same path. For some reason, no one was able to step in over the weekend, and Magnus was forced to continue working side by side with Alexander. Though, in complete honesty, it wasn't the misery he'd expected it to be. It only took him a few hours on Friday night to realize he very much likes working next to him. If his constant compliments are the reason — Magnus surprises himself with not feeling any regrets admitting that. It's just, Magnus' traitorous mind can't help but feel as if they aren't just simple compliments. No, if it hadn't been Alexander, Magnus would be sure it is flirting. But why would Alexander flirt with him?
When Magnus comes into work Sunday night, Alexander isn't there yet. This causes some flutter in his stomach, and it's undecided whether or not Magnus feels relieved. Alexander has been so confusing over the weekend, Magnus could barely concentrate on anything but the other man. He concludes it's a relief being alone for a moment before all the chaos starts. Usually, Sunday nights are quite calm, and tonight it's only supposed to be Alexander and him.
Magnus inhales, and grabs a lime, knife and a cutting board. He hums under his breath, losing himself in the monotone, familiar work to the extent he doesn't hear the kitchen door sway open.
"You get those wedges so even, I'm jealous."
Alexander's low voice startles Magnus enough he almost cuts his finger instead of the lime wedge. "Jealous enough to scare me into mistakes?" he teases, but not brave enough to actually look up.
The low chuckle his words elicit, is reverberating deep into Magnus' bones. Fuck.
Magnus steels himself for whatever else may come, but Alexander says nothing more, just falling into the familiar routine of opening up the bar next to Magnus. By the time they open up, Magnus is oddly strung up simply by the ease, the familiarity in which they work in silence, side by side. It shouldn't be like this, not even talking and they just work together.
Magnus should say something, make some sort of small talk, because that's what people do with their coworkers. Unless they are total asshats, of course. Then Magnus wouldn't even spare them a second thought. But every time he glances at Alexander, his tongue gets uncharacteristically tied. The fact that Alexander had turned out to be the nicest person Magnus had encountered in a long time, doesn't help with his little predicament.
By the time the doorman locks up behind the last patron, Magnus is exhausted. It has nothing to do with work and everything to do with Alexander. If Magnus thought Friday and Saturday was rough, nothing beats tonight.
It all started with the compliment about his cutting skills. It was shortly followed by a low 'Smooth' when Magnus made one of his signature bottle flips. From there, it quickly escalated; Alexander was on the roll the entire night, almost as if he was caught in a flood unable to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
Magnus' brain had a hard time sorting through the innuendos that were raining over him. He almost choked on his spit from the 'Fill me up, please" before noticing the empty beer pint Alexander held out for him. How Alexander murmured 'Sex on the beach, huh. I wish.' when Magnus recommended said drink to a patron. Only to be followed by a friendly request for help with the 'Could you get me a Blowjob? Yours are better than mine.'
Alexander disappears into the kitchen and with a groan Magnus folds himself over the counter, burying his face in his hands. How the fuck is he supposed to forget all about this? Forget Alexander's 'I see you know your way around a Slippery nipple, too' and the final gut punch 'Your leaky tap aftercare is…educational' has forever etched an imagery on Magnus' mind that he did not necessarily need. But he isn't entirely opposed either. Not at all.
Magnus just can't figure it out and it's frustrating to say the least. Not once had Alexander looked at him while delivering these lines. Though, thank Jesus for that, because Magnus had, honest to God, gotten flustered more than once. The only light on Magnus' horizon tonight had been the absence of Blondie.
Magnus tries to wrap his spinning mind around the events of the evening. Alexander must be flirting with him, or was this simply a show for the audience? He glances at the tip jar, filled to the brim tonight. The patrons had hooted and spurred Alexander on the entire night, tipping him extra for each line he delivered. Of course, Alexander wouldn't stop.
"Magnus," Alexander's voice breaks through his thoughts, "you look exhausted." Magnus glances at his colleague, surprised by the sudden care and how he phrased himself. Before he can say something, Alexander continues. "Hand me the tip jar, I'll sort it out."
Of course he does, he's probably eager to get the hands on the money he earned tonight. The thought squeezes his heart in a very unpleasant way. "You sure?" he still asks. He's not very interested in doing it himself, it almost makes him feel a little dirty taking the money knowing how Alexander earned them.
Alexander shifts on his feet, and looks suddenly a bit unsure what to do with himself. It's surprising, indeed, Magnus would have thought the other man wanted out of there as soon as possible. He can tell when Alexander inhales, as he does it with his entire body. Then, he locks eyes with Magnus, that kind of intense stare that always takes Magnus' breath away. In the silence that's stretched between them, Magnus can only hear his racing heart thrumming in his ears. He's waiting for something, but he doesn't know what.
It's Alexander who breaks it. "Absolutely sure," he says, now with that dangerous smile forming on his lips. Directed straight at Magnus, he gets a little weak in his knees. "I've been told I'm good with numbers."
Words, what are words? Magnus appears to have lost all of his skills of articulation but manages to raise a rather skeptical eyebrow.
"What?" Alexander huffs, "You don't believe me?"
Magnus tries to wrap his head around what's happening, it feels significant, but before he can even respond, Alexander steps in closer — so very, very close and he lowers his voice. "Give me yours, and I'll prove it to you." And then he winked.
Magnus stares, his jaw once more on the floor. Alexander fucking winked at him.
There's no more doubt; Alexander is flirting with him and Magnus must be dead and entered heaven.
"I…" A blush replaces the smile on Alexander's face and it deepens the color of his cheeks as his words reveal regret, "I don't know what… I mean… I'm so sorry," he stutters, both of his hands coming up in his hair. "I'll just…" Alexander flicks his hand towards the kitchen and makes a move to leave.
Apparently, Magnus' super slow response time and dumbfounded stare must have gotten interpreted as if Alexander's flirting is unwelcome. That needs to be remedied right this instant, but there's one thing that needs to be cleared first.
"Alexander, stop."
The other man stares at the floor, but he doesn't move. A win, Magnus guesses, but it's not good enough. It's about time they have a proper talk.
"Alec," Magnus offers, even if the name feels foreign on his tongue. More puzzling is the slight stiffness in Alexander's shoulders at the word but Magnus has no time to explore that — they have more pressing matters to address. "Are you flirting with me?"
There's no way of missing the way Alexander immediately tenses up at his question and the bar falls eerily quiet for a heartbeat or five. The other man is frozen to the spot, but the fact that he hasn't run off yet, has Magnus' heart racing again. Or, honesty, Magnus isn't sure it's been at a regular pace this entire evening.
"I…" Alexander starts, his voice fading away into a loud exhale. The silence stretches on yet again.
Patience is a virtue, Magnus knows he should wait for him to continue, but he has none to spare, not any longer. Not when the question that's been burning his mind for so long finally is out there. He needs an answer.
"Alec." His voice is more stern than he intended it to be, Alec's flinching shoulders agreeing with him. "Look at me, please," he adds a little softer this time.
In slow-motion, Alexander turns, though he doesn't meet Magnus' gaze. Seeing that Alexander still hasn't dignified to give any kind of an answer yet, Magnus is fairly certain he knows the answer. However, guessing and knowing are two different things and Magnus needs to know.
He crosses his arms over his chest, restlessly drumming his finger against his bicep. The sound draws Alexanders' attention, like a moth to a flame. His gaze is fixated at Magnus' hand and arm and Magnus is so distracted by taking all that in, he almost misses the 'yes' Alexander breathes out.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
Even if Alexander still isn't looking at Magnus, he can trail the blush that creeps up Alexander's neck. Then he lifts his gaze, and meets Magnus'. They stare at each other, Alexander looks like a deer caught in a headlight and Magnus can't help but jut his chin out.
Something flickers in Alexander's eyes then, and his entire expression changes. "Fuck it," he exhales and rolls back his shoulders. Despite his cheeks turning deep red, he's now the one holding Magnus' gaze. "Yes, Magnus. I am flirting with you."
Pure and utter delight explodes inside his chest, and Magnus fights hard to contain the laughter bubbling out of him. "You've got an interesting way of showing it," he says with a feign indifference he's immensely proud of given the thousands of butterflies inside him.
Alec tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling and huffs a laugh. "You don't even know half of it."
"I'm all ears."
Alexander groans and rubs his face. "I should have listened to Izzy," he mutters.
"Izzy being…?" Magnus interrupts, eager to piece this puzzle together.
"My sister. She's been here almost every day."
Magnus' mind slowly processes the information. "The dark-haired woman is your sister?"
Alexander's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Uhm, yes? Anyway, when Jace said—"
Something simmers in his chest, and he can't stop himself from interrupting yet again. "Who's Jace?"
Alexander has the audacity to roll his eyes, a small smile on his lips. "That would be my brother. He's also been here a lot."
Finally Magnus is able to put two and two together and the relief washing over him causes him to laugh. "Blondie is your brother? Thank the fuck," he exclaims, unfiltered.
Alexander stares bewildered at Magnus for a moment, and shifts on his feet. "Okay?" he asks unsurely.
Magnus is suddenly happy that his complexion does wonders hiding the blush he feels on his cheeks. "I…, nevermind me, just—" he rambles, making a motion with his hand for Alexander to go on.
"So…" Alexander starts, but trails off. Another blush is tinting his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink and he tilts his head, staring at the floor. "God, this is so embarrassing," he mumbles.
"Does it help you if I say that you flirting with me has been a very much welcome activity on my part?" Magnus then says, hoping it will give Alexander the courage he needs.
Alexander snaps his head up, his mouth slightly agape. "You like it?"
"Well, I mean, the innuendos were not great , but I got your point," Magnus teases.
"Oh, God," Alexander groans. "It was all a stupid bet."
"A bet? Color me intrigued, Alexander."
"It's all Jace's doing. He got into his head that you were jealous, and well, normally I don't listen to a word he says, but then he's better with these things then I am so I thought that perhaps he wasn't completely wrong. Though, Izzy said we were both morons and that I should just talk to you but that's beside the point. After the mention of you being jealous I could only focus on that maybe, just maybe I hadn't blown all my chances so I ended up taking the bet against better judgment—"
"Alexander, hey, take a breath."
The man does what Magnus asks, snapping his mouth shot, his eyes widening a little in horror.
"There's something I don't understand, and I'm going to ask you a question, if that's okay?"
Alexander simply nods.
"Why do you flirt with me? You were the one who told me to back off, very adamantly so, if I might add."
Alexander sighs in defeat, his shoulders dropping and he meets Magnus' gaze. "You know, there's a thing about you," he starts and Magnus is suddenly worried he might not like what comes next. "It's like you're pulling everyone into your orbit and you either glow or shatter in it. When I started working here, I couldn't handle it. I wasn't out, like publicly, but you, you just snuck your way into my mind and you stirred feelings I've never experienced before. I got scared, and confused and you being in my face every single shift, well, let's just say I was a pressure cooker about to explode — and I did."
Guilt fills Magnus. Rey had been right all along about Magnus being a total asshole. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. I didn't know."
"How could you? I never told anyone."
"But still, I was so worried about losing my position at the top, I never stopped to consider your perspective— Oh my God," Magnus gasps, covering his mouth with his hands. "Did I force you to come out?"
"No!" Alexander quickly reassures, "The second I told you to back off, I regretted it. Because it was the opposite of what I wanted, I just didn't know how to ask for it. I went home that night, and Jace got to me before Izzy, coming up with this masterplan that I should win you back — but not without practicing. Of course, I refused, and then he —of course— pulled up some shit from ages ago and dared me. And that's how this whole mess started."
"To make me jealous?"
"Yes."
"And you thought it would be a good idea to use the cringiest innuendos you could ever come up with?" Magnus teases, not ready to reveal the effect said innuendoes actually had had on him.
"Honestly, flirting with anyone would be awkward as hell, so I thought I would make it more naturally awkward."
Oddly, that makes sense in Magnus' ears. "Do you usually put this much thought into your flirting?"
Alexander chuckles. "Izzy says I have a tendency to overthink things."
"I see." Magnus fails spectacularly to hide the smile forming on his lips. "I, for one, am very glad you decided to try and make me jealous."
Alexander perks up at that. "Did it work?" Hope laces his voice to the extent it awakes the butterflies in Magnus' stomach.
"Do you really think I'm going to answer that question truthfully?"
At that, Alexander throws his head back and laughs. It's the most beautiful sound in the world.
"So, did you win the bet?" Magnus asks.
"You tell me." Alexander's eyes twinkle with mirth, "I guess that depends whether or not you answer the question truthfully."
Magnus chuckles and feels so at ease when all the tension from the past weeks finally bleeds out of him completely. Alexander has been so brave, so truthful. With the air cleared between them, there's nothing stopping Magnus from making the move he's been suppressing for so long.
"Sooo, about that number…" Magnus winks, holding out his hand. "Give me your phone."
Alexander fishes out his phone, unlocks it and hands it over to Magnus. "Please, don't steal it."
Magnus gasps, feigning hurt. Then he narrows his eyes and starts typing on the phone. He hands the phone back, grinning from ear to ear. "Now you can call me any lime," he chaffs.
Alexander glares at him, but Magnus only finds the reaction encouraging. "Because, you know, you’re berry much my type," he snickers.
"Oh, fuck off," Alexander protests, without heat and a wide smile on his face.
Magnus grabs the tip jar from its place on the counter and steps in close, pressing the jar to Alexander's chest. Up close, Magnus can catch the depth in those gorgeous eyes, the way they're glittering in the dim light of the bar.
Magnus already knows he is in so much trouble with this one, but he's never been more excited about trouble. "Here’s my tip," he murmurs, his voice low, "you should go out with me."
Alexander huffs a laugh at that, still smiling as he snakes an arm around Magnus' waist. Magnus forgets about unnecessary things like breathing where he's pressed up against Alexander. Holding him this close, Magnus knows Alexander can feel the shiver his low, husky voice sends down his spine when he answers.
"Yes, I should."