just a couple of bamfs

@highwarlockkareena: alec and magnus on a demon hunting/circle mission being competitive shits about it

“how many was that again?”

it was a quiet whisper, breathless and laced with laughter there as they braced their shoulders against the passenger side of a car parked tight against the curb. alec’s breathing was coming heavy, rattling his torso every time he inhaled. his skin was hot, a sharp contrast against the cool night air and his body was pumped through with adrenaline making him zoned in on every god damn sound. he could feel his runes, the way they buzzed when activated, making his skin tingle and readying him, bow in hand and an arrow nocked against it.

alec was watching magnus, staring at the way he was half lost in shadow, half painted by the neon lights from the store fronts as they washed over his face and up the high spikes of his hair. he was grinning, one of those pleased with himself grins that shot straight through alec and alec couldn’t help but echo it, letting his gaze drip from magnus’s shining golden cat eyes down to the curve of his lower lip, burning pink under the lights.

“twelve five. don’t pretend you aren’t keeping track.” magnus replied, slightly less breathless, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the dark that surrounded them. somewhere around the corner there was a loud hiss, scuttling claws against the asphalt. it made all of alec’s senses perk up again, a little jolt rolling through his body. he knew magnus could hear it too.

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the water was shimmering, catching every single hint of light from the city and from where magnus sat on the bench, riverside, it looked something like a thousand glittering jewels or liquid midnight. all of that light reflected in his eyes and somewhere off in the distance, a tugboat wailed, the sound echoing off of the water and out through the city, mingling with the sound of the traffic that was spilling through it.

reclining against the back of the bench, magnus was the epitome of calm and control. leaned back with his arm slung over the back, there was a powerful grace that settled in him. that same kind of grace that hinted at just how deadly he could be. the wind ruffled his hair and he tipped is chin up, goatee catching just a hint of the light as the cool air from the water slipped underneath his coat. but he didn’t shift, he didn’t move, just sat waiting and listening.

and soon enough he could hear it. footsteps. two pairs, one concealed and one glaringly obvious. the heavy thump paired with the quiet scuttle and was that… yes he could hear the fingers curling around the grip of a gun. his lips twitched and he dropped his chin. clearing his throat as he waited until the heavy footsteps got closer.

“i would have expected a little more imagination.” every single word was lazy and yet his voice, the deepness of it, echoed out over the water and back, the hard coldness of it cutting the chill. immediately the footsteps stopped. he shifted, rings glinting in the light from the city, his other hand pressed in his lap twitching. he wanted to reach for his gun but he didn’t, not just yet.

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