Invictus

Drunk Mistakes

“Are you trying to telepathically convince him to drag you to the back alley so you can fuck him? Because you can stare as much as you want, that’s probably not going to happen.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and showed Raphael his middle finger, darting his eyes away from Alec to pout at his best friend. “He hasn’t shaved, Raphael,” he said pointedly. “Do you know how weak my knees are right now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be friends now?”

“We are,” Magnus said with a vigorous nod that probably had more to do with the alcohol running through his veins than real enthusiasm. “That doesn’t mean he magically stopped being good-looking.”

Raphael sighed, shaking his head. “Why don’t you just ask him out on a date?”

Magnus frowned, rubbing his fingers together. “I don’t do dates.”

“And yet, you don’t want to just fuck him and forget about it,” Raphael said. “You like him. Por el amor de Dios , you even listen to him talk about flowers for hours.”

“It’s interesting,” Magnus argued. “Did you know tulip bulbs can be substitutes to onions in-”

“I don’t care,” Raphael grumbled. “You can’t stay scared forever, Magnus. Not everyone is -”

“Don’t,” Magnus growled, suddenly much more sober, levelling him with an impassible glare. “Just don’t.”

Raphael sighed, raising both his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying you should give him a chance, a real one.”

“He’s not even interested,” Magnus said, grabbing their refilled glasses from the bartender. “He shuts off completely every time I flirt with him.”

“Please,” Raphael snorted, plucking his margarita from Magnus’ hands. “He looks at you like he definitely wouldn’t mind if you dragged him to the back alley to fuck him, as long as you cook him breakfast the next morning.”

“I am a great cook,” Magnus remarked just as they reached the table again, and that was the end of that.

Alec’s cheeks were a bit flushed with alcohol, but at least he was holding his ground, unlike Jace and Simon, who were busy drawing on napkins, giggling with each other. Clary, Lily and Isabelle had left to dance a while back and weren’t showing any sign of coming back.

Magnus slid on the booth next to Alec with all the grace he could muster, and observed silently as Jace and Simon continued drawing before stopping abruptly, shoving their napkins in their faces.

Magnus blinked. “What is that?” he asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“We’re getting tattoos,” Simon exclaimed sloppily. “We drew them ourselves. Can you tattoo us?”

Magnus stared at the stain Simon had seemingly drawn. “I don’t tattoo drunk people. And more importantly, I don’t tattoo this kind of horror. What I do is art, Simon.”

“I know when you’re drunk because that’s the only time you call me by my real name,” Simon mused out loud, wisely choosing to retreat.

“You should do it,” Alec chimed in, and Magnus turned his head to look at him. He was sporting a playful smirk. It was a good look on him. “I’d love to see Jace trying to explain to our parents why he has -,” he paused, grabbing Jace’s napkin to study his drawing, “- a dog? a bird?”

“It’s a turtle!” Jace exclaimed. “Because they’re cool, man. They just live their lives and don’t bother anyone.”

“Please do it,” Alec whispered, turning back towards Magnus. “I would be forever indebted to you.”