Summary: Steve and the reader are a part of a study group with Jonathan and Nancy. Before study group they got a little…distracted.
A/N: I’m so pumped for season 2 ohmygOD (as always, apologies from spelling and grammar mistakes)
You had no idea how you’d gotten in your current situation. You’ve always been a rule follower. A goody-two shoes. A square. The kind of girl who spent her Friday nights sitting at home studying Yet, for some reason you were currently pressed up against the wall of the library by Steve Harrington.
You knew you were going to be late for your study session with Jonathan and Nancy, but you didn’t want Steve to stop kissing you or playing with the hem of your shirt.
“Steve,” You say, breathlessly as his mouth moved down to your neck, “We’re going to be late.”
“Who cares?” He murmurs against your skin, causing you to shiver slightly.
You pull his head away from your neck so that he’s looking you in the eyes, “Both both know that I do.” You tell him.
You smooth your jacket down from where it’s currently crumpled up around your midriff and run a hand through your hair quickly, “Do I look okay?” You ask Steve.
“You look hot,” He replies with a smirk.
“Not funny,” You say as you pick your backpack up from where you’d discarded it on the ground, “Now don’t walk in right after me, okay?”
“Okay,” He says as he grabs his own bag.
When you walk into the library you immediately spot Jonathan and Nancy talking at one of the tables and make a beeline towards them.
“Hey, sorry I’m late, I was doing stuff.” You say as you sit down.
Nancy takes one look at your disheveled hair and how wrinkled your shirt is and raises an eyebrow at you.
“I’m stuff,” Steve announces as he sits down next you with a smug grin, at that moment you realize how unkempt he looks which you can only assume means you look the same which makes you go beet red.
“Steve!” You hiss as you swat his arm, “That’s- it’s-” You stammer out as you glance across the table at Jon and Nancy, trying to come up with some sort of excuse.
“What? You don’t think we couldn’t tell you two have been hooking up?” Jonathan asks with a wicked grin.
You stare at him for a moment before glancing at Steve who just shrugs at you, “I hate my life,” You mutter as you throw your head down on the table.
“Aww, babe,” Steve says, laughing slightly, “They were going to find out eventually, now we don’t have to tell them.”
“Hey, does this look good?” Alec asks, voice getting louder as he shuffles into the living room, his dress shoes making small noises on the wooden floor.
For the past fifteen minutes, Magnus has been comfortably sat on the couch, waiting for Alec to finish getitng ready so they can leave for their date night. What’s strange is that his boyfriend has been unusually secretive about his outfit, immediately piquing Magnus’ interest. He turns quickly, one arm swinging over the backrest of the coach and all playful words die on his tongue.
Alec looks exquisite, even in the artificial lighting of the loft. He’s wearing a diamond-patterned dress shirt paired with dark pants and matching accesories - the fabric hugs his arms and chest, stretching with every movement of his hands as he buttons up the very top.
Magnus swallows, his throat suddenly dry and nods in lieu of a real answer, eyebrows stuck near his hairline. He’s not that hungry for seafood anymore, he’d rather devour Alec, a five-course meal standing right before Magnus’ eyes. He smiles, thumb pressed against his lower lip and Alec picks up on the well-known tension between them, his mouth curving into a pleased grin, bold and comfortable.
“Who do I need to thank for this outfit?” Magnus hums appreciatively as he stands, crowds against Alec to brush his palms down those broad shoulders hidden under a thin layer of expensive silk. Beneath the desire, beneath all of the fondness Magnus feels for this man, there is pride that Alec feels he can be himself, uninhibited, out in the open like this.
“I may have gotten inspired by my fashionable, magical boyfriend.” Comes Alec’s nonchalant answer and it makes Magnus chuckle. He steps forward, guiding Alec back towards the wall nearby.
“He won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, I’m sure.”
When Alec’s back hits the wall, he gives a little gasp, his eyes twinkling with something mischevious; he knows exactly what he’s doing. Magnus kisses him, hard and like he’s falling, like it’s the last thing he’ll do in his life. It pulls a different kind of noise from Alec’s chest, as their mouths shift together, bodies like magnets until there’s no space left between them.
When they part moments later, both breathless, Alec doesn’t look so smug anymore when he speaks, hands pressed against Magnus’ chest. “Aren’t we going to be late?”