A/N: I realized, at midnight no less, that I needed to finish all the little drabbles that I have started and get them posted tonight. Tomorrow I will be reading City of Glass, and didn't want the plotline of the much anticipated book to color any of the little drabbles that I had already begun to write! This comes from a prompt table I am working on, the prompt -not surprisngly- was 'relax.'


Magnus opened the door wearing a purple satin robe and a Cheshire Cat grin. When he saw Alec's expression, the smile dimmed slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Something has to be wrong for me to come here?" Alec furrowed his eyebrows and frowned.

Magnus bit his lip and stepped backwards, holding the door open wide for the Shadowhunter and gesturing with his hand for the boy to enter. "It doesn't have to be, though now that you mention it, something usually is."

"Nothing's wrong," Alec brushed past the warlock and walked into the den. "I just thought…I wanted to see you."

A small smile of surprise pulled Magnus's lips up at the corners as he closed the door and followed the boy into the other room. "Well, I'm glad for that, but you look distinctly upset. I'll ask you the question again. What's wrong?"

Alec sat down on the sofa and tilted his head up to look at the willowy warlock. "Do I?" Magnus nodded and sat down beside him. Alec shrugged. "Really, nothing's wrong. Or nothing new is wrong, at least. I guess I'm just stressed."

Magnus reached his hand over and placed it on Alec's shoulder. He squeezed the tense muscle there and Alec closed his eyes. "Tell me about it."

"It's just the same old stuff, really." Alec sighed dramatically. "The Clave is in an uproar over what happened on the ship, wondering if Valentine was really killed when the spell or whatever went wrong. Mom is worried about Dad, and is driving me and Izzy crazy with the preparations for going to Idris. Then there's Dad himself, who is trying to act invulnerable even while injured, like there's something wrong with being hurt. Like it makes him…less worthy somehow."

Magnus continued moving his fingers along the boy's shoulder, squeezing and releasing, working out the stress. "It sounds very trying," he said sympathetically.

Alec moaned softly and nodded. "That feels good," he said, tilting his head first to one side and then the other, stretching the muscles in his neck.

Magnus grinned. "That would be the point, Alec. But go on, what else is bothering you?"

"There has to be more?" Alec opened his eyes and glanced over at Magnus.

"There doesn't have to be, though I assume there is."

"Based on what evidence?" Alec teased. He'd been dropping legal jargon into every conversation he could since he discovered Magnus had a penchant for watching Court TV. He thought the warlock's interest in human law was hilarious.

Magnus raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Exhibit A is the epic knot in your shoulder, here. Though it could be argued that it stems only from a little bit of parental drama, I highly doubt that. Exhibit B is the fact that you're trying to distract me now."

Alec laughed and shook his head. "It really isn't any big deal. Everyone is just acting so strange."

"Everyone?" Magnus prompted, and pulled his arm away from Alec's shoulder. Alec turned to look at him, but Magnus grabbed his other shoulder and pulled him backwards, sliding his body close to his own.

"What—" Alec sputtered, but Magnus shook his head and placed one hand on either side of the boy's neck.

"You talk, I'll rub."

"Mmph," Alec groaned and let his head drop forward, enjoying the sensation of warm hands undoing the stress of the day.

"Oh, you brilliant Shadowhunter. You amaze me with your glittering articulation."

Alec chuckled, a deep low sound in his throat. "Your fault. It's hard to think with your hands on…" Magnus pulled his hands away from the boy's shoulders.

"Better?" his voice was sly, teasing.

"No," Alec was firm. "I'll talk, you rub, remember?"

Magnus snorted and slid his hands below the hem of Alec's shirt. "Uh, Magnus? What are you…"

"Raise your arms," Magnus instructed, and Alec lifted them over his head. In seconds the fabric that had been covering his torso was on the floor, and Magnus was pulling him backwards again, so that his back and Magnus's chest were only inches apart. Somehow—though Alec wasn't sure how or when it had happened—Magnus had slid his leg up onto the sofa behind Alec's back, so that the Shadowhunter was sitting between the warlock's thighs.

Magnus leaned over to grab something from an end table that had suddenly appeared beside the sofa. Alec looked to see a jar of oil with some sort of purple flower floating in the bottom of it. "Where did that come from?" He asked.

"The chic table, or the lavender massage oil? Either way, the answer is Fifth Avenue."

Alec grinned and shook his head. "You're something else, Magnus. You really are."

"That's what they tell me," the warlock said confidingly. "Though, sadly, they never seem to tell exactly what that something else might be."

Alec wasn't going to be able to tell him what that something else was either, not right then, because Magnus's now oil covered hands were back on his shoulders, kneading and rubbing and drawing the tension from the knotted muscles. Alec lost the desire and ability to speak. He let out a sigh and dropped his head forward again, hoping to encourage Magnus's hands to work on his sore neck as well as his shoulders.

The sensation of warm pressure on his neck made Alec groan, doubly so because it was his lover's lips, rather than his hands, that teased the skin there. "What are you doing?" the Shadowhunter breathed.

Alec felt Magnus's mouth turn up into a smirk against his flesh, "I'm helping you relax." The words blew pleasantly across the sensitive skin of Alec's throat, and he shivered like tall blades of grass in an early summer breeze.

"I'm not sure 'relax' is the word I'd use," Alec said sardonically.

"Oh, really?" Alec could hear the wicked gleam in Magnus's eyes and the pleased quirk of his lips in the two simple words.


"What word would you use then?" It was a challenge, one that Alec was prepared to meet. He twisted around at the waist and met the warlock's gaze.

"None," he whispered, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Magnus's, expressing himself in an infinitely more perfect language.