tough love

The familiar thud of the Institute’s heavy ward-door closing echoed through the quiet penthouse, a sound that always signaled the end of Magnus’s solitude and the beginning of his favorite part of the day. He was perched on a plush velvet armchair, a half-empty glass of glittering blue liquid in hand, a book of ancient Sumerian spells open on his lap. He smiled, already anticipating the warmth of Alec’s presence, the quiet comfort that settled over their home once the Head of the New York Institute returned.

But as Alec rounded the corner into the living room, Magnus’s smile faltered. There was a subtle hitch in Alec’s usually fluid gait, a barely perceptible favor of his left leg. He wasn’t exactly limping, not in a way that would draw immediate attention from anyone less observant than Magnus, but it was there, a slight hesitation in his step, a barely-there drag of his boot.

"Alexander," Magnus purred, setting his book aside and rising gracefully. His eyes, usually alight with mischievous joy at Alec’s return, now held a flicker of concern. "Rough day at the office, darling?"

Alec offered a tired smile, though his eyes didn't quite meet Magnus's. He was still in his gear – dark Shadowhunter fatigues, a worn leather jacket, and the ever-present quiver of arrows slung across his back. A faint smudge of dirt marred his cheek, and his usually neat hair was a little disheveled. "Just another Tuesday, you know how it is." He started to unbuckle his weapon belt, his movements a little stiffer than usual.

Magnus moved closer, his gaze fixed on Alec’s troubled leg. "You're limping." It wasn't a question, but an observation, stated with a quiet certainty that left no room for denial.

Alec paused, his hands still on his belt. He finally looked at Magnus, a carefully constructed nonchalance on his face. "Limping? No, I'm not. Just… tired. Long day, lots of running around." He forced a brighter smile. "So, what's for dinner? I'm starving. Anything good?"

Magnus raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his concern deepening. He knew Alec too well. This deflection, this sudden eagerness to change the subject, was a tell-tale sign. "Don't try to distract me, Alexander. What happened?"

Alec sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nothing, really. Just a skirmish with some rogue demons. Standard stuff." He finally got his belt off, placing it carefully on the nearby console table. He started towards the bedroom, presumably to change.

But Magnus was not to be deterred. He stepped in front of Alec, blocking his path. His expression was firm, his eyes shining with a potent mix of worry and determination. "Show me the wound."

Alec stopped, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Magnus, it's fine. Really. Just a little scratch. Barely even worth mentioning." He tried to sidestep Magnus, but the warlock was unyielding.

"A 'little scratch' that makes the Head of the Institute limp?" Magnus's voice was low, laced with an undeniable edge. "Alexander, you know how I feel about you hiding injuries from me. It's not fair, and it's certainly not wise."

Alec let out a frustrated huff. "It's nothing, Magnus. Honestly. I can barely feel it now."

Magnus’s eyes narrowed, a glint of his magic sparking in their depths. He knew Alec’s stubbornness, his ingrained tendency to downplay his own pain. He also knew there were times when a little theatricality was necessary to get through to his husband. "Show me, or I will use my magic."

Alec's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise mixed with annoyance crossing his face. "Magnus, you wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Magnus's voice was soft, but the threat was clear. "If you won't voluntarily show me the extent of your injuries, then I will strip you with the snap of my fingers and examine them myself."

Alec's jaw dropped, a flush creeping up his neck. "Magnus! You know how much I hate being seen naked outside of… well, you know." He gestured vaguely, his embarrassment palpable. He was a Shadowhunter, disciplined and reserved, and while he was comfortable with Magnus in their most intimate moments, the idea of being magically undressed without warning, even by his husband, was deeply unsettling to him.

Magnus’s gaze softened slightly, but his resolve remained firm. "I know, my love. But if you are hurt, I need to know. I need to make sure you're alright. Your modesty is important to me, but your well-being is paramount."

Alec ran a hand over his face, clearly torn. He knew Magnus was serious. When Magnus got that look in his eyes, there was no arguing with him. "It's… it's in an awkward position," Alec finally admitted, his voice a little muffled. "You wouldn't dare use your magic against me like that. Not really." He still held onto a sliver of hope that Magnus was bluffing.

Magnus simply smiled, a mischievous glint back in his eyes, but underneath it, the worry still simmered. He knew Alec’s limits, and he knew when to push past them for his own good. He extended a hand, his fingers poised. "Try me, my love."

Alec stared at him, a silent plea in his eyes, but Magnus was unyielding. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension, until Alec finally let out a defeated groan. He opened his mouth to protest again, but before he could utter a single word, Magnus snapped his fingers.

A shimmering wave of cerulean magic washed over Alec. In an instant, his worn fatigues, his leather jacket, his boots, even his underwear, vanished, leaving him utterly naked in the middle of their living room. He gasped, his eyes wide with shock and a healthy dose of mortification. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, though it did little to cover his imposing frame.

"Magnus!" he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of outrage and embarrassment. "You actually did it!"

Magnus ignored his protests, his focus entirely on Alec’s body. His eyes swept over Alec, taking in every inch, searching for the hidden injury. His gaze finally settled on Alec's left thigh, just above the knee, where a deep, jagged gash marred the otherwise flawless skin. It was still bleeding sluggishly, the edges inflamed and angry. It was definitely more than a "little scratch."

"Alexander Lightwood-Bane," Magnus said, his voice laced with exasperation as he took in the wound. "This is not a 'little scratch.' This is a significant laceration. What in the name of the Angel happened?"

Alec, still struggling with his sudden nudity, mumbled, "Just a Shax demon's claw. Caught me off guard when I was trying to protect a mundie."

Magnus knelt, his expression serious. His hands glowed with soft, golden magic as he gently examined the wound. He winced slightly at the sight of it. "Caught you off guard, indeed. This is quite deep, my love. It's a good thing you have such a high pain tolerance, or you'd be howling."

Alec shifted uncomfortably, still acutely aware of his nakedness. "It's not that bad, Magnus. I've had worse."

"That doesn't make it okay to hide it from me," Magnus replied, his voice firm but gentle. He began to work his magic, a warm, tingling sensation spreading from his hands into Alec’s leg. The jagged edges of the wound began to knit together, the bleeding stopped, and the angry redness slowly faded. Alec watched, fascinated despite his embarrassment, as his skin became smooth and unblemished once more.

The healing was swift and complete, a testament to Magnus's immense power. Once the last trace of the wound vanished, Magnus looked up at Alec, a tender smile on his face. "There. Good as new." He stood, reaching out to gently cup Alec’s cheek. "Now, are you going to tell me what else you're hiding?"

Alec, still feeling the lingering warmth of the healing magic, let out a slow breath. He was no longer limping. His leg felt perfectly fine. But the humiliation of being stripped bare still clung to him. He met Magnus’s gaze, a slight flush still on his cheeks. "Magnus," he began, his voice a little strained. "That… that felt kind of humiliating."

Magnus’s smile softened. "I know, my love. And I apologize for that. But you were being stubborn, and I needed to ensure you were alright."

Alec sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it. You were worried. But… can we… can we agree never to bring this up again? Ever?"

Magnus chuckled, a low, warm sound. He knew when to push and when to concede. "Of course, Alexander. Our little secret. Though I must say, you looked rather magnificent." He winked playfully, earning an eye-roll from Alec.

With another snap of his fingers, Magnus’s magic swirled around Alec once more, and this time, his clothes reappeared, perfectly folded and neatly laid out on the bed. Alec quickly snatched them up and began to dress, grateful for the return of his modesty.

Once he was clothed, Alec felt a little more grounded. He walked over to Magnus, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist and burying his face in Magnus's neck. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice softer now. "For healing me. And for… for caring so much."

Magnus held him close, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Always, my love. Always." He pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now, about that dinner. I believe I was making my famous paella. And perhaps, after a long, strenuous day, you'd like a drink to unwind?"

Alec laughed, a genuine, relaxed sound that filled the room. "Paella sounds perfect. And a drink would be amazing." He squeezed Magnus’s hand. "Just… no more surprise stripping, okay?"

Magnus grinned, his eyes twinkling. "No promises, darling. You know I have a flair for the dramatic. But for now, let's just enjoy a peaceful evening. And next time, try to remember that your warlock husband is perfectly capable of patching you up without all the theatrics."

Alec rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Duly noted." He leaned in and kissed Magnus, a lingering, tender kiss that spoke volumes about their love and understanding. As they walked hand-in-hand towards the kitchen, the scent of saffron and seafood already wafting through the air, their earlier spat was forgotten, replaced by the quiet comfort and unwavering affection that defined their life together. The incident, while momentarily embarrassing, was just another testament to the unique and enduring bond between the steadfast Shadowhunter and his flamboyant, fiercely protective warlock.