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Chapter Text

Name: Magnus Bane

Date: March 15

Mission Report: 

Raphael, Catarina, and I were vastly outnumbered facing off against a group of demons when a handsome warlock swept in and saved us all. He was so tall, even taller than me. Do you know how rare that is? He had really soft-looking brown hair that was all tousled in a way that makes you want to run your fingers though it. In a couple bursts of magic, he completely eviscerated the demons and saved us all. Who was this heroic warlock you ask? The one and only—handsome, powerful—High Warlock of Brooklyn, Alexander Lightwood.

A flick of his wrist accomplished what three of us Shadowhunters couldn’t. And what a lovely wrist it was; the kind of wrist Victorians would faint over. And his fingers. Don’t get me started on those fingers, so long and thick. Talk about inspiration for thoughts that will keep me up at night. 

Then, when we thanked him for his work, he answers in the most attractive voice I have ever heard. He looked like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but even so, it didn’t detract from his gorgeous features. I didn’t get his number, but I made sure he knows I’m interested. We’ll be dating soon if I have any say in it.

The so-called mission report even includes a few lopsided hearts drawn in the margins and sides. One of them has a “M+A” written inside it in Magnus’ handwriting.

It is, by far, the worst mission report Ragnor has ever read. It’s not even a mission report, it’s just Magnus swooning over the High Warlock of Brooklyn. 

Ragnor has half a mind to call Magnus into his office and lecture him on the proper writing of a report. But he has a soft spot for Magnus. He’d been responsible for a large part of Magnus’ training after he’d transferred from the Indonesian Institute. Magnus’ rambling is surely nothing more than a hopeless little crush that will fizzle out when Magnus realizes how unreceptive Lightwood is to his flirting, Ragnor is sure of it. 

Name: Magnus Bane

Date: May 20

Mission Report: 

We enlisted Warlock Lightwood’s help for a mission today. He was imperative to the success of said mission, accomplishing our task with ease. He summoned the memory demon with a perfectly-drawn sigil and when we all stood around it, I got to hold his hand. Raphael nearly got between us, but I was able to squeeze in. Best decision ever, if I do say so myself. His hands are soft soft and strong—Warlock Lightwood’s hands, not Raphael’s. Raphael’s hands were cold and surprisingly small. Much less enjoyable. Warlock Lightwood’s hands were perfect. Like the rest of him. I must admit I have a special interest in those hands though. I believe I wrote about his fingers in my last report concerning Warlock Lightwood (see: March 15 ^th mission report), but I could write a hundred pages on them and it still wouldn’t do them justice. 

A glance at the rest of the page ensures Ragnor that Magnus fixated on Lightwood’s hands for the rest of the report. He really doesn’t need to read that. He reluctantly throws the report onto the read pile, and makes a mental note that he’ll have to speak with Magnus if it happens again. While the Clave doesn’t usually read the mission reports, they sometimes ask to see them, and any Clave official would have an aneurysm reading Magnus’ love letters. 

This one, much like the last, has a few illustrated additions as well. A crudely drawn hand on one side, more hearts on the other. And, at the bottom, what seems to be a pair of eyes. 

Name: Magnus Lightwood- Bane

Date: June 19

Mission Report: 

I got to see Alexander Lightwood again. That’s High Warlock Lightwood to anyone reading this—show him the respect he deserves! And angels above, he deserves all of the respect this world has to offer. All of it, understood? His power is unrivaled by that of any other known warlock. He’s the most powerful person in New York City. I could feel the power in his wards. 

And in his words. He doesn’t speak a lot, but when he does, he always has something important to say. He’s so smart. How does someone get to be that smart? I wonder how long he’s been alive. Probably at least four centuries to be as smart as he is. He speaks multiple languages—without runes or anything. How’s that for impressive?

Despite all of that, he doesn’t seem to pick up on my flirting. Maybe he’s playing coy. Maybe he’s truly oblivious. I have to figure out which it is so I can flirt with him better. He was supposed to be my boyfriend by now   :(

“Magnus, what is this?” Ragnor asks, setting the mission report on the desk between them. Scribbles of Magnus and Alec’s names adorn the margins. Magnus Lightwood. Alexander Bane. Magnus Bane-Lightwood. Alec Banewood. Apparently, he’d settled on the Lightwood-Bane he’d written in the name section of the report. 

Magnus puts on an angelic expression, blinking innocently back at him. Magnus Bane, ever the menace. “I do believe that’s my mission report, Mr. Fell.”

“Do not Mr. Fell me. This,” Ragnor waves dramatically at the paper between them, “is not a mission report. You didn’t even mention the mission or the shape-shifting demon you killed.”

“Technically, Alexander killed him—”

“With his powerful magic from his perfect hands?” Ragnor asks dryly. 

“Yes, actually. Have you seen—”

“I beg you not to finish that sentence.” 

Magnus shrugs, but thankfully, doesn’t continue extolling the virtues of Lightwood’s fingers. Ragnor has to read it enough times, and he might actually puke if Magnus insists on making him listen to it as well. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

“These are love letters, not mission reports. Write up another one, with actual mission details this time. And if you truly intend to change your name, please use the appropriate forms, sans whatever kind of ridiculous calligraphy this is supposed to be.”

Magnus is pouts and sinks further into his chair. “I really don’t see the point in writing another report.” 

“Just try to stay on topic this time.” 

When Magnus simply shrugs, Ragnor worries the next mission report won’t be any better. “Why don’t you simply tell him how you feel?”

Magnus smiles sadly at Ragnor. “I’ve made my feelings for him perfectly clear, my dear cabbage. I’m afraid he just doesn’t like me that much.”

He’s out the door before Ragnor can say anything else. Maybe Magnus Bane was a handful, but no one in the world was more deserving of happiness. If only Ragnor could get Magnus to see that. 

Name: Magnus Lightwood-Bane

Date: August 5

Mission Report: 

Because Ragnor insists I write about the mission, here is everything you need to know. There was a demon summoning in Manhattan. Catarina and I were dispatched to kill the demon and deal with the mundanes involved. Warlock Lightwood was called in to clean up the summoning site. Everything went according to plan. Now for the important part.

I saw Warlock Lightwood smile for the first time today. Really smile, I mean, not his forced polite smile he does occasionally. Usually he’s frowning. Of course, he’s beautiful then too, his lips are very kissable. But back to the point at hand, his smile was incomparable. It was bright, almost blinding, like sunlight reflecting off pure snow. All because of a little joke I made about mundanes. That smile was the best thing that happened to me today. This week. My entire life. Seriously, his smile is insane. I want to kiss it so much. 

I think he might be starting to realize I exist, as an actual person. He glanced over at me a couple times today with those perfect eyes of his—have I written about his eyes yet? Angels, they have so many colors, I’m unsure how to even describe them. Like oceans in summertime and grassy meadows in spring and hot chocolate on a chilly winter day, all mixed together. Hazel, technically, but no one else’s hazel eyes look like his. 

We would have the cutest kids together. I know it’s not biologically possible, but imagine babies with those eyes, and maybe his gentle wavy hair too, wouldn’t that be the cutest thing ever? Maybe we should start by adopting a cat. No, two cats. So they’re not lonely. We could get a dog as well, if it gets along with the cats—Warlock Lightwood seems like a dog person. And a python of course. I adore snakes. I bet our kids would love them too. 

Honestly, though, I’d settle for a date. 

It’s the longest ‘mission report’ (aka Magnus hopelessly pining after Lightwood) yet. It’s extremely annoying, and almost a little heartbreaking. Magnus is truly head-over-heels for the warlock. 

Ragnor hesitates. Magnus won’t appreciate his meddling, but… Magnus had seemed so disappointed the last time they spoke. He’d seemed to have resigned himself to one-sided pining. This ‘report’ sounds a little more hopeful, but the last line makes Ragnor wince. Magnus deserves happiness, and if he believes High Warlock Lightwood is that happiness, then he deserves a shot. 

So, exasperated with himself and Magnus and Warlock Lightwood, Ragnor makes a copy of the report to file. Then he folds the original and slips it into an envelope.

Five days later, after the weekly Downworld Cabinet meeting, Ragnor slips the envelope into Warlock Lightwood’s hand as he’s about to leave.

Lightwood’s eyebrows furrow over his, as Magnus would call them, perfect eyes. Ragnor doesn’t really see the appeal. “What is this?”

“A mission report written by Magnus Bane concerning the events of August 5th.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

Ragor sighs. He’d seen the way Lightwood stared at Magnus in the ops center earlier. There’s no way Magnus’ feelings are one-sided. Perhaps if Ragnor can get them to talk, they’ll all be a little less miserable. He supposes it’s too much to hope that Magnus might even go back to writing actual mission reports. 

“Because I think it’s important for you to read.”

Chapter Text

Magnus has very few expectations surrounding High Warlock Lightwood, but it still comes as a complete shock when Alec practically stomps up to him and holds out an envelope. He glances between Alec’s face and the dead circle members, trying to find some sort of context. 

They’re in a dank warehouse—why can’t Shadow World crimes ever happen anywhere halfway nice?—where Alec helped him and Raphael take down six circle members who’d been conspiring to commit attempted genocide. 

“What is this?” Magnus asks cautiously as he plucks the envelope from Alec’s fingers. Alec’s eyebrows are drawn together, his gaze flitting around the room like he can’t bear to look at Magnus. It’s a little hurtful, if Magnus is being completely honest. 

“It’s for you.”

That clarifies very little. Magnus glances at his parabatai, but Raphael just shrugs. He looks closer at the envelope. His name is written on the front in what must be Alec’s handwriting. He hadn’t expected cursive, but the beautiful script fits the Alec’s natural elegance. 

He flips it over, finding wax holding it closed, stamped with Alec’s initials. The formality of the whole thing is a little off-putting. He’d be speculating about whether this was some kind of war declaration, except that Alec had specified it was for him. He didn’t know what about him could inspire this kind of flourish. Though he loves the dramatics, it’s also daunting. 

When Magnus goes to open the envelope, sliding a ringed finger under the flap, Alec’s hand shoots out to grasp his wrist. 

Magnus stares. He always wants to stare at Alec’s hands—there’s a reason he devoted so many mission reports to them—but Alec has never actually touched him before. Alec’s skin is warm and calloused, and normally Magnus would be fantasizing about touching more of Alec. But at the current moment, he’s preoccupied by the slight tremor running through Alec’s hand. 

“Not here,” Alec says, dropping his hand like it burns. Rude. 

“Is it filled with anthrax? Have I upset you, darling?” The word rolls off his tongue too easily. He’s accustomed to using pet names with anyone he’s fond of and even occasionally with strangers, but it feels more loaded when it’s directed at Alec. His crush burns in his blood, makes his heart race, and causes him to constantly overthink. He’s terrified of scaring Alec off. 

Alec cracks a smile, his expression shifting to something softer even as he rolls his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I’m not going to murder you with anthrax, Magnus.”

“Should I assume you’re planning a different assassination method? I’d be partial to magic if I have any say.”

“I’m not—wait, what?”

Magnus refuses to blush, especially when Alec is looking at him. He won’t blush, he won’t—his cheeks warm. Traitorous blood. He manages a shrug that he hopes makes him look a little more relaxed. Maybe Alec won’t even notice his blush; the warehouse isn’t exactly well lit. The only light comes from a single bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling. 

“There are worse ways to go.” He, very intentionally, doesn’t mention how much he likes Alec’s magic and how being killed by it would almost be an honor. At least he’d get to feel it wrapped around him or coursing through him for the few seconds it took to finish him off. 

“Why do you think I would want to kill you?”

Magnus holds up the envelope like evidence. He’s burning with curiosity, wondering what’s inside. “You’re being awfully cryptic.”

“I’m not being cryptic,” Alec mutters, turning away from Magnus and using a burst of magic to get rid of the dead bodies. “I’m… being coy.”

Magnus is so stunned, he nearly drops the letter. He’d said those same words to Alec when they’d first met, over five months ago. Alec is flirting with him. Suddenly, the letter in his hands seems more exciting than terrifying. He wants to tear it open and read it right this second. He barely manages to hold himself back. If this letter has something to do with Alec’s flirting, if Alec wants him back, he’s determined they can have this revelation somewhere nicer. 

He turns to Raphael to suggest they head out—the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can open the envelope. Except, the place where his parabatai had formerly been standing is now empty. “Where’s Raphael?”

Alec raises an eyebrow. “He left. About the same time you asked if I was planning to murder you.”

Ah. That’s a little embarrassing. As a Shadowhunter, Magnus is supposed to be a little more aware of his surroundings. But it was so easy to let his guard down around Alexander. “I should go find him.”

“Need a portal back to the Institute?”

He briefly considers walking and catching up to Raph, but quickly changes his mind. “I’d be grateful if you could.”

The twist of Alec’s fingers as he summons his magic is sinful. It should be illegal for Alec to make such provocative gestures with those beautiful hands when Magnus isn’t allowed to put Alec’s fingers in his mouth. 

“Thank you.”

“You’ll write a mission report for this, right?”

Magnus pauses, blinking at the warlock. Alec’s face gives nothing away. “Yes, that’s standard protocol. Why?”

“Just curious.” 

Are Magnus’ eyes deceiving him or is that a blush on Alec’s face!? He wants to kiss it. Alec is always stunning, but there’s something especially endearing about shy, blushing Alec. The letter practically burns a hole in his hand. He’s tired of waiting. 

“Alright…” 

“Go on, Shadowhunter,” Alec says, nodding to the portal. Something like mischief glimmers in his eyes. “You have a mission report to write.”

It isn’t until after Magnus has already stepped through the portal that he remembers exactly what kind of mission reports he writes about events concerning Alexander Lightwood. But the only people who had seen those reports are the Head of the Institute and potential Clave envoys. And Ragnor wouldn’t…

Horror creeps up Magnus’ spine. Ragnor had looked particularly done with him after he’d handed in his last mission report featuring Alec, and Ragnor was known to matchmake on occasion. 

It was entirely possible Ragnor had shown Alec the reports. 

A thousand expletives race through Magnus’ mind, and he can’t help seeing his last exchange with Alec through a whole new lens. It was possible Alec was mocking him with all of this. 

He rips open the envelope and lets it fall to the sidewalk as he yanks out the letter. 

Dear Magnus Bane,

I’ve never been one for letter writing, but this feels like the best way to respond to what was essentially a love letter. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being lazy with my response.

First, because you don’t seem to know, I think it’s important that you realize I like your smile too. I’ve thought about your smile since the first time we met and you made that awful meat pun. Your joke about the mundanes was much better, by the way. Oh, and you also have incredibly kissable lips, even if writing that kind of makes me shudder. Sorry, that’s not romantic .

How could you possibly think I hadn’t seen you until the last time we spoke? I’ve always seen you, Magnus. I just didn’t know what to say, how to act around you because you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I also wasn’t actually aware that you were flirting with me until Ragnor gave me your mission report. It’s great, by the way, I’ve framed it. 

You wrote a lot about my eyes, but yours make me breathless every time you look at me. I’ve never seen eyes as warm as yours. And the color—brown with flecks of gold—is so beautiful. 

I’m not sure we’re ready for kids just yet, and I’m more of a cat person than dogs or snakes, but I appreciate the idea and am open to discussion. I agree that we should start with a date. 

I hope this letter isn’t too over the top, and that you aren’t upset about Ragnor giving me the report. I’m glad he did, since I finally realized how you feel. If you really do feel like giving this a try, send me a fire message?

Awaiting Your Response,

Alexander Lightwood