All I Want For Christmas Is You - a Magnus/Alec fanfiction

Chapter 1 - December 1st - Magnus

December 1st - Magnus

The apartment is darkened to a golden glow, the sky outside so dark it looks as if it's been painted in tar. Only the streetlights illuminate the snow-covered roads, casting a warm orange glow over the white blankets covering the sidewalk, a sunset of warmth against the iciness coating the pavement. The snowflakes fall thick and fast, the already settled snow deepening by the minute. A fire roars in the fireplace, golden flames licking at the wood and climbing higher, crackling with life, before falling back to the wood in the grate, curling their warmth around the logs.

Alec, in a white shirt and trousers, his pale feet bare, lies on the sofa with his head on the arm, mouth slightly open in some limbo between sleep and consciousness. Somewhere, a clock strikes twelve, and I stand up.

"Hey," Alec says, opening his eyes. By the golden light of the fire, his pale skin looks bright, his blue eyes wide even in tiredness. The golden tongues of flame glow in his eyes, illuminating the blue and casting them into darkness, shadows dancing across his high cheekbones.

"Let's go to sleep, it's getting late." I say, casting my eyes away from him, and back to the fire.

"Okay," he says, pushing himself onto his elbows. "I'll go check the gate."

"Are you sure? I can go." I offer.

"No, its fine." He assures me, going to the door. He opens it, bracing himself, and a blast of icy air blows in. "I'll be right back." He says and, just in case, he drags his stele across his forearm, etching a glamour. He leaves the stele on the table by the door, pulls his coat and boots on and starts down the landing outside, pulling the door shut behind him. As the door clicks shut, leaving behind an icy aftermath, I shiver. Raising a hand, I flick my wrist as a web of sparks form at my fingertips, dousing the lamp lights and leaving the room lit only by the comforting ochre and crimson glow of the fire.

I go to the bedroom, pulling blankets from the chairs and throwing them onto the duvet. It may only be December the first, but the temperate is subzero. Even inside, my arms prickle with goosebumps. I pity any poor soul outside in this weather. I hear a banging of running feet, and poke my head around the bedroom door, silently cursing Alec. What is possessing him to make so much noise - let alone how he has the energy for such sprinting so late - is beyond me. I'm sure the neighbours will adore that. I go to open the door as Alec's hand grabs the handle. He stumbles into the apartment, his already pale face almost white. He leans back against the door, and it slams with a bang. He's heaving breaths, his blue eyes wide. Any thought of neighbours complaints dissipate from my mind. I put a hand on Alec's shoulders, feeling them heave up and down with breathlessness.

"There's a kid." He says breathily.

"A what?" I reply, confused.

"There's a kid, outside."

"On the street?" I remove my hands from his shoulders sceptically.

"Yeah." He replies.

"So? Why is that a problem?" I ask, wondering why Alec is overreacting so uncharacteristically. I'm not sure why a child on the street has thrown him into such a complete and utter panic. I appreciate the fact that a child on the street in this weather is extremely upsetting to think about, but I can't help thinking Alec might be a little too empathetic.

"He saw me. And I was glamoured."

Oh, now I understand.

"You think he's a Shadowhunter?" I wonder aloud. "But he'd be at the Institute, wouldn't he? Or with someone?" I pause. "What do we do?"

What happens with lost shadowhunters? Surely it happens all the time. Perhaps we ought to call the Institute? I don't know.

Snow slides down the window, building in mounds in the streets, down many flights of stairs. The apartment is warm, but the outsides of the windows are dusted with fine frost, the ice like delicate white lace. But the beauty is deceptive. That child is probably frozen solid with cold.