The Mortal Instruments One Shots

Magnus Banes house of chinese takeout packets

Magnus Bane did not feel like cleaning.

He did not feel like snapping his fingers and vanishing the growing pile of Chinese takeout packets.

He did not want to get out of bed.

In fact, Magnus Bane did not want to do anything at all.

Why? Because he was in a mood.

When Magnus was in a mood nothing got done for anyone. He had already cancelled three of his clients and ignored more than eleven phone calls, four of which were from Clarissa Fairchild/Morgenstern/Fray and another two from Jace Herondale/Lightwood/Wayland/Morgenstern or whatever name it is that those two have chosen to go by nowdays. According to their messages, Magnus needed to call back urgently.

Magnus had not called back.

Around six o'clock in the evening, a pounding rang through the apartment, closely followed by a large crash and the soft sound of footsteps slowly creeping through the living room. Magnus, who had been lazily lying on the bed staring at his bedroom roof, had immediately been filled with the adrenalin that comes with battle. He stood behind the door, silently preparing himself for whatever intruder had disturbed his pity party.

Slowly a dark haired figure crept into the room, looking around the room in search of something. Or someone.

Magnus exhaled a sigh of exasperation mixed with annoyance and longing.
It was Alexander Lightwood.
The Shadowhunter turned at the noise, shaking his head in anger and irritation.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!" He shouted before throwing himself at the warlock and burying his face into his shoulder.
"Alec? Is everything alright?" Magnus asked softly, his surprise at Alec's actions causing him to forget his bad mood.
The Shadowhunter just nodded against Magnus's collarbone and then pulled away to reveal his large blue eyes, laced with fear and relief all mixed up in one.

"It is now".