Work Text:
–
The loud default ringtone of his phone is what wakes Alec up from the best rest he’s had this entire week. With a muffled groan, he tries to bury his face deeper into his pillow and possibly smother himself back to sleep. It’s definitely not the time to wake up yet.
Thankfully, after a while, the call goes away. But just as he’s slowly relaxing back into the comfortable embrace of his bed, it starts back up. This time, it’s that stupid pop song Izzy chose a few months ago as her ringtone on his phone.
That gets him to lift his head up and glare at the phone vibrating at his nightstand hatefully. What’s so important that they can’t let him sleep for two more hours?
The song keeps playing obnoxiously in true Izzy fashion. Seeing as going back to sleep is nothing but a distant dream at this point, Alec sighs in defeat and he reaches to answer it.
The first thing he hears is an excited gasp of his name, followed closely by, “The teams are announced! Stop what you’re doing and look at Twitter!”
“It’s 8am, Izzy,” He deadpans after a short pause to check the time, before letting his head flop back onto his pillow. “I’m sleeping.”
Izzy’s huff sounds quiet and far away from where he sets his phone on the bedding next to him. “Well, sleep later. This is more important– the official account of the Inquisitor just posted the teams for their tournament!”
“And that needs my attention at 8 in the morning, because..?”
“Are you joking? We’re talking about the biggest gaming tournament of this decade. You’re one of the sixteen people that got a personal invite, Alec. You have to check who your teammate is!”
See, his sister is right– this competition is all this side of the internet has been able to talk about for weeks. That’s saying something, because the netizens’ attention span is even shorter than Jace’s, which is to say, it doesn’t even exist. But there’s just one little problem in this equation, and that is, “I told you, I don’t plan on joining it.”
Izzy huffs, “This again? Come on, don’t tell me you’re still on about–”
“They only care about the money and support it’s going to bring for their games. I’m not going to support a massive corporation walking all over the gaming community just because it’ll get me more viewers, Izzy.”
“But Alec, you don’t have to side with them–”
“That's how it’ll feel like to me.” He pauses for a moment, before pointedly adding, “And they called me an overrated queer-bait streamer on Twitter just before the Streamer Awards, so there’s that.”
“It was just a PR intern, and you got a public apology out of it.”
Alec snorts. “Yeah, because Imogen Herondale is the type of person to give the control of her brand’s official account to a random intern on her first week of work. Poor kid got sacked for no reason.”
Izzy sighs in defeat at that. “If it helps you feel better, I heard she got picked up by the Penhallows.”
“I know. I was the one who called Aline.”
A brief silence falls over them. Izzy breaks it with a sigh. “Look, Alec– just think about it, okay? This is a chance for you to actually reach a bigger audience, Imogen’s audience. You’ll be live in front of thousands of people interested in the Inquisitor, without any censorship or clips taken out of context.”
That much is true, and Alec knows that too. But poking the hornet’s nest isn’t gonna help anyone, is it? The Inquisitor has been passed through five generations with lots of support at its back, including a significant amount of funding from the government through the pro-military propaganda in their latest published game series, all while broadcasting a very deep anti-queer agenda. Alec is just a random streamer that got lucky enough to blow up three years ago– how the hell is he supposed to fight against that?
“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” his sister says at last. She sounds tired. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”
He can do that. Not for the money or the views, but for Izzy. She’s always had a heart too soft for this world. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Call me when you wake up,” she warns him. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The phone screen goes dark as the call ends. Twisting onto his back, Alec looks up at the ceiling without a drop of sleep left in his system. This is a chance, Izzy’s voice whispers in his ears.
With a long-suffering groan, he flops a hand out to search for his phone again. This time, he unlocks it to go through his notifications– there are a few, from the limited number of unmuted accounts he follows on several different social media platforms. He clicks the one at top, the one that reads ‘The long awaited team announcements for the Inquisitor’s tournament, biggest event of the year…’ and waits as Twitter boots up.
The tweet is detailing the time and place -in two weeks, streamed both on Twitch and Youtube- and there’s a link at the bottom. He clicks it to visit the Inquisitor’s official website. It takes a moment for it to load, and then he scrolls down on the listed teams until he sees his own name–
Team 17: Alec Lightwood & Magnus Bane
And that’s right about when he realizes it doesn’t matter whether he wants to join this event or not– because obviously, the Inquisitor doesn’t want him there either. Which makes itself known with the fact that Magnus Bane isn’t even a gamer– he’s a fucking Instagram influencer.
–
“Alec! I heard the news,” is what greets him the moment Alec steps into the coffee shop. Already regretting his decision to visit his brother, Alec sighs and glances up.
From behind the counter where he’s preparing a drink, Jace looks at him with a teasing smile. “Izzy said you were being grumpy about work again.”
Well. As always, Izzy is very dependable when it comes to keeping things on the downlow.
Alec throws him an unimpressed look while stepping around the counter, “I’m not.”
“If you say so.” Winking at him, Jace puts a lid on the cup he’s finally done with and glances down at the name on it before calling out, “Grace!”
A woman gets up from her seat by the window to walk up to the pick-up counter and grab her drink. Turning his attention away from the usual flow of the coffee shop, Alec grabs the stool by the corner and drags it next to the register to perch on it.
After sending the woman her way with a charismatic smile and a compliment, Jace turns to lean back against the counter and lifts an eyebrow at him. “So, what’re you gonna do?”
“For what?”
Jace looks at him as if he’s dumb. “The tournament, dude. What else?”
“Why would I need a plan for it?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you have a habit of planning every step of your life and this tournament could help you achieve a lot of things you have on your bucket list?” Shrugging, Jace crosses his arms, “Just a guess, though.”
Alec shakes his head, snorting, “I don’t have a bucket list.”
“Yeah, tell that to someone who hasn't shared a bunk bed with you for 10 years.”
“...it was 9 years.”
“Want me to count months too?”
“Now you’re just being annoying.”
“That’s my job.” With a chuckle, Jace unfolds his arms and turns to start cleaning up the clutter on the counter. It feels like he’s trying to give Alec space– but this is Jace. He’s not strategic nor thoughtful enough to consider that Alec might not want to have this conversation. “Look, I know you don’t like it when random celebrities sneak into your space–”
Alec cuts him off, “Not random celebrities, Jace. Just one. On my team.”
Stubbornly scrubbing a stain on one of the machines, Jace stays quiet.
“You want to see the best in your grandmother,” Alec says tiredly, scrubbing his face. “I know that. But it was a deliberate choice on her part to put the only person who is nearly guaranteed to throw the game on my team.”
That gets him a look.
“What?”
“‘Throw the game’? Alec, be realistic.” Jace scoffs, pointing at him with the dirty rag hanging limply off of his hand, “You’re probably the best player in that tournament by a long shot. You’re not going to lose, good teammate or not.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that Imogen is trying to ridicule me in front of thousands of people–”
“–which is not going to work.” Jace shakes his head, putting the rag back down and stepping closer to crouch in front of him. “Get your head back in the game, brother. Since when have you started giving up before trying?”
That brings Alec to a stop.
Jace grins. “That’s what I thought. This is your chance to give the Inquisitor the finger for calling you a ‘deviant, one-trick pony’ before the Streamer Awards.” He grabs Alec by the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads press together, “Get yourself together. Show them who you really are.”
Alec chews on his inner cheek for a moment. Why does everyone keep bringing up that one tweet thread? He remembers it perfectly well, he doesn’t need a reminder.
What the hell. Jace really knows how to press all his buttons.
He groans and pushes Jace away roughly. His brother lands on his backside with a high-pitched squeak.
“I hate you.” Alec hisses out.
“Love you too, Alec,” Jace grunts out from where he’s sitting on the floor. “Good to know you’re still as good with encouraging speeches as ever.”
–
“Hey,” Alec says, breathless.
The man’s skin shines with subtle, golden glitter, his eyes rimmed dark and sharp. “Well, hello there,” he hums back to Alec playfully, twisting the jewelry lining the shell of his ear with a small smile on his face. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”
And what a shame that is, Alec thinks to himself. If it hadn’t been so, he could've known of this man’s existence already.
Wetting his lips, he tries to find words to say. All that comes out is a pathetic, “Uh. Alec.”
That delightful smile grows a tad more. “I’d guessed so. It’s lovely to meet you, Alexander; I’m Magnus Bane.”
It feels like he’s one step away from losing the control of his tongue and blurting out a marriage proposal. Instead, very eloquently, Alec replies, “Yeah.”
Nailed it.
There’s a quiet chime of a subscription in his ear, then the text-to-speech says ‘Does anyone else see what I’m seeing here?’ and that ruins the mood faster than Jace’s habit of cockblocking him. Blinking forcefully, Alec realizes he’s been staring at Magnus’ face on the Discord call like a lovesick puppy and averts his gaze to focus back on his chat. They’re in emote-only mode. One of the mods is spamming ‘STOP SPAMMING AlecGayPanic EMOTE!!!’ while another is periodically sending ‘peepoDance AlecGayPanic peepoDance AlecGayPanic2 peepoDance’.
It takes a moment before Izzy’s name pops up as well, decorated with a Founder and VIP badge, only to contribute to the chaos with ‘I saw that, brother’ . Deciding to ignore his chat entirely, Alec mutes the text-to-speech before clearing his throat, and glances back up at Magnus’ grinning, amused face on the screen. “Uh. Ready?”
He gets a nod back. “Very,” Magnus says, still fiddling with his earrings. A nervous quirk, Alec guesses, but what could’ve made him feel that way, he has no idea. “Let’s win this thing, darling.”
Heat climbs up to his face right as Alec manages to minimize his facecam. His chat explodes into another spam of AlecGayPanic and AlecGayPanic2.
“Y-yeah,” he stutters, “let's.”
–
The tournament picks up fairly quickly. There are 32 teams, each made up from experienced gamers and streamers. Alec, as the only player who is nerfed with a newbie, is the prime target for early points.
Or, that’s what the announcer keeps babbling about while Alec keeps an eye on the countdown with nerves of steel. Magnus’ character is idly running in circles around him, crouching and standing up occasionally as if to practice the movements.
“So, what’s the plan, Alexander?”
Alec glances at his second monitor, catching Magnus’ face lit up with the bright light of his monitor as he carefully eyes his surroundings in the game. His pupils are wide, the dark brown shining nearly yellow with his screen’s shine. His eyeliner is a tad smudged on his left eyelid– it only makes him look more alluring.
Alec quickly focuses back on the time. The countdown says they have 5 minutes and 43 seconds left.
“I need you to follow me. Ignore everything and keep running.” He hesitates, turning his character around to see the other teams waiting on their marks. The ones closest to them are watching them. Thankfully, they’re too far away for the proximity chat to pick up anything. “If someone tries to shoot you, get down and find cover. Don’t try to fight them.”
Magnus hums thoughtfully, “And wait until you save me like a knight in shining armor?” Alec doubletakes, but Magnus only throws him a playful grin. “Just kidding, dear. I’ll be good, you have my word.”
“Ah, um– okay,” he stutters.
“Okay,” Magnus echoes.
5 minutes, the game announcement says.
–
“Alright. On your marks!”
The proximity chat booms with Sebastian Morgenstern’s voice. Alec jolts in his chair, his hand barely avoiding jerking on his mouse. The proximity chat lets announcers take over all voice chats, he remembers.
“Here we go,” Magnus directs his character to stand next to his.
“5, 4–”
Alec nods. “Keep up.”
“–3…”
“Lead the way, Alexander.”
“...2, 1! Go!”
His character starts sprinting. He hears Magnus’ footsteps following him right behind, the crunching of pebbles beneath their feet loud and clear in his headphones. He absentmindedly lets go of the mouse to fix it better in place, eyes darting over the path he’s mentally drawn for them.
They skip past houses. It barely takes a few minutes before he starts hearing distant gunshots, but he doesn’t stop to loot anything.
“Aren’t we going to collect anything?” Magnus hesitantly asks.
“No use.” Alec takes a moment to sprint sideways, glancing behind them. There are still three players after them. He doesn’t know where the teammate of the 3rd one is. “We need to get rid of these guys, then go off-road to find the abandoned military base down south. It’s modded terrain, so I doubt anyone would know where to find it.”
“Nobody but you.”
Alec directs his character back to keep running straight, promptly eyeing the entirety of his chat for a moment to see them spam ‘RUN!!!!’ over a thousand times before his eyes stray back to Magnus’ cam. The look in his eyes is a fond one. It makes Alec’s cheeks flush.
“I, uh. I guess so.”
–
They lose their tails 6 minutes in. They have no gear to their names, and their saturation and hunger have been flashing yellow for a while.
“I’m red for food now,” he hears. Thankfully, right at that moment, a single farmhouse looms in the distance.
“Let’s stop here. There should be some supplies if we're lucky.”
They are, but just barely. There’s a damaged knife, new boots for Magnus, two cans of food and a bottle of water that they share. The knife gets ruined after using it to open the cans, but Alec counts it a necessary evil.
“We’re not that far away from the military base. Let’s keep going.”
“Right behind you, my dear.”
–
They don’t bump into anyone for the rest of the way, just as Alec had guessed. They’re no longer allowed to watch the main stream now that the tournament has started, but Alec guesses the attention is turned away from them without a doubt. Not much action to see here.
The only eyes they have on them are their own viewers. Which doesn’t sound nearly as reassuring, considering that Alec averages 80k viewers on a normal day.
The military base has two main entrances, with a secret tear in the chainlink surrounding it as well. Alec just takes the front entrance, quickly starting to search through the loot spawns.
Magnuss stalls by the entrance, following after him like a lost puppy. His character is coughing every now and then– they could use some pills and warmer clothes. The cold will become a problem once the night arrives. “What do I do?”
“Do you know how to collect items?”
“...yes?”
Alec turns his character to stop in front of Magnus’. His inventory already has a bunch of starter items, so he drops a handgun, a bat and a jacket for him. Better items will be deeper into the compound, but this should do for now. “Take these. Go around and collect as much stuff as you can. Don’t go too far away, and if you hear anything, come get me.”
“Oh I’ll get you alright,” is purred next to his ear in response. Alec’s fingers twitch on his keyboard– his character jerks right suddenly. Magnus sounds too breathy for a simple game tournament, but then he continues as if he didn’t say anything unusual, teasing, “Back to looting then, Alexander.”
His character spins in place to run towards the military tents by the corner. Alec stays unmoving, looking after him with wide eyes and embarrassment brewing hot in his chest.
After a second of silence, he deliberately does not look at his chat and goes back to collecting items. The first item he gets his hands on after Magnus’ leaves is a Mosin gun.
Of fucking course.
–
They meet back up a few minutes later. Magnus is running at him full-speed in the bunker, and the moment he gets in talking range, he’s gasping out, “Team! There’s a team outside!”
Alec hisses out a quiet curse. “Okay, keep going that way, there’s a room you can hide in. I’ll take care of them.”
Magnus slows down next to him, following him as Alec steps behind the stacked up crates to find a good vantage point. His character sounds out of breath. “What? No, I can help–”
“–Magnus.” Alec cuts him off. “I’ve got this. Go!”
He doesn’t look back to check if Magnus listens– because he hears a gunshot in the bunker. He climbs up the crates carefully, eyes darting around to see if he can see anyone.
He hears them before anything else. People play this game for so long, but most never seem to realize how much the sounds they make give away. Their footsteps are silent, but one of them opens a crate and with that, Alec guesses there to be maybe 20 feet between them. He peeks his head up, his Mosin carefully aimed towards the noise, and spies the team Magnus was talking about.
They aren’t too geared up. One of them has a helmet, they both have stab vests. One has a rifle gun, an AK, while the other has a shotgun and a sniper.
Well. Good loot.
He lowers the proximity of his voice chat until he’s at whisper mode and mumbles, “You ready, chat?”
He doesn’t check to confirm. He knows they’re spamming their bloodlust the entire time.
His character holds her breath, one second, two, but the helmetless guy moves and he lets go. Then, another pause from the guy, and she holds his breath again and the gunshot echoes loudly in the bunker.
The guy crumbles down quickly without fanfare. His teammate quickly ducks away, hiding behind his own set of crates, but it’s too late. Alec is already changing positions. He’s on the hunt, and these guys have no idea what they’re up against.
There’s a reason he was invited to become a pro player. He refused, yes, but it wasn’t because he was lacking in any way.
It only takes a minute. The gunfight is over with two well-placed headshots from him -the helmet lets the guy survive up to two- and a dozen of missed ones from his opponent. As he goes to loot them, he hears footsteps from behind. He isn’t worried– he’d seen Magnus watching from a corner all along, stubbornly not going into hiding.
“That was impressive, Alexander.” He sounds genuine in his compliment. There’s an appreciative tone to his voice.
Alec feels his lips twitch, but refuses to let himself smile shyly in front of thousands of people. “Thanks.” Then, he throws the AK towards Magnus, “Come, gear up. We’ll have a lot more trouble coming our way soon.”
–
They leave the military base behind. An announcement is shared in the game chat: 35 players left.
“That’s a lot of dead people,” Magnus muses as they run through a treeline. They’re going towards the center of the map– the world border will be shrinked to a third of its original size soon enough.
“These tournaments always start up fast,” Alec explains, stalling behind the cover of the trees to eye up the field ahead of them before continuing along the line. “People take the opportunity to lower the player count while no one has anything to defend themselves with. It's a good strategy.”
Magnus’ brows are burrowed in his minimized cam. “But you don’t use it.”
Alec purses his lips before shaking his head. “I don’t.”
He takes the opportunity to check over his stream. His chat is buried under ‘peepoRun’ s and ‘duckass’ es. He sees a creep, but they get banned by Izzy right away. A faint, lopsided smile tugs at his lips.
Magnus interrupts him, “Why not?”
Because it ruins the game for everyone, even the viewers. Because he knows he doesn’t need underhanded tactics to win. Because he likes the thrill of fighting an uphill battle.
Alec simply shrugs. “It’s a lame way to win.”
They fall into a momentary silence. Gunshots echo in the distance, to their north, but it’s far away enough that Alec ignores it.
“You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?”
That prompts Alec to look at Magnus again. He’s looking at his camera– and it feels like they’re eye-to-eye. The expression on his face is inscrutable.
Alec frowns, “What does that mean?”
Magnus doesn’t answer. They keep running.
–
The gunshots draw closer and closer as they keep traveling north.
“Are we sure we want to be going this way?” Magnus doubtfully turns his character to face north as he continues drinking water.
Opening another can of food, Alec mirrors him. There’s smoke barely visible in the distance. A helicopter crash.
“We need to start playing more aggressively if we want better gear.”
“That’s a lot of shots.”
“At least a Tundra and two KAs.” Alec purses his lips, listening for the next round of gunshots, “Think it’s 101.”
Magnus sighs dramatically. “Darling, I do love seeing you so competent, but those words literally mean nothing to me.”
Alec feels heat climbing up to his face. He pulls up his inventory to keep himself busy, stalling the conversation. From the corner of his eye, he spies Magnus looking very pleased with himself.
He manages to find the words he’s looking for after an awkward silence, “They’re, uh, guns. Good ones. I prefer Mosin.”
“You’re very skillful with it,” Magnus nods wisely. “I was nearly swooning back at that military place. You were a brilliant sight to see.”
Alec gets his character off the ground suddenly. “You ready?” He blurts out. “You– we need to go. Not much time. Before the border shrinks, I mean.”
“Yes,” Magnus chuckles quietly, “I'll be at your back, darling.”
–
They find themselves on the high ground, on top of a mountain looking down at a small town. Alec finds he was right about the guns, but the amount of players? Way more than he would’ve thought.
“I see 6,” Magnus mumbles quietly, crouched behind a tree. “No, 7. Why are there so many people here?”
Comfortable with talking now that he’s coached Magnus on how to turn his voice chat into whisper mode during the last few minutes, Alec hums out an affirmation. “There’s 9 out in the open. I think at least 3 of them are solo.” He turns his scope to scan around the mountainside they’re hiding in. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were more people hiding here like they are. “This town is closest to the new border. A team probably got pinched down there, then people heard the gunshots and followed them here.”
“Like us?”
He nods, turning his attention back to the town, “Like us.”
Magnus’ character sneezes. Alec grimaces– they could really use some multivitamins. Stealth isn’t an option at the moment unless he leaves Magnus behind.
“What now?” Magnus asks.
“Now, we wait.”
The fight continues on for minutes. More and more people die, but two more teams also jump into the fray from the mountain they’re on. There’s also a sniper closeby– which Alec barely manages to see after catching a player die in the town out of nowhere with his scope. They must be using a silencer.
“We need to take out the sniper,” he frowns, watching another team get eliminated. Another announcement is made: 17 players left.
“How?”
“I can’t see him from here.” He shakes his head decisively, rising his character up into a crouch. “You stay here. I’ll go find him.”
“What?” Magnus sounds appalled, “No! What if you die? What if I die?”
Alec feels fondness softening his features. “You’ll be fine.” He sees Magnus’ eyes drifting to the side. He’s looking at Alec’s facecam. Feeling an unexpected wave of playfulness rising in him, he looks at his own camera and lets the smallest hints of a grin curve at his lips, “I have your back.”
He turns to leave without waiting for a reply. Just before he steps past the whisper function’s earshot, he hears Magnus sigh dreamily, “This man is going to be the death of me.”
This time, he fails to keep the smile off of his face.
–
It’s easy to take care of the sniper. He hears the guy whispering with his teammate as soon as he gets to the general area he’d thought him to be– but he doesn’t see the teammate anywhere.
As he sneaks closer to get a better look, he hears, “-think it’s the Insta doll. He’s all alone– guess Lightwood decided to shed the deadweight.”
He frowns. A glance at Magnus’ cam shows a troubled frown on Magnus’ face. Turning his attention back to the game, Alec swallows and slowly moves closer. Footsteps would be a very amateur way to ruin an ambush. More than that, he has to keep this quiet. If he gets the attention of the teams in the town, this tournament would undoubtedly get ten times harder to win.
His main guns don’t have silencers. He’s left to use his pistol– the one he’d looted off of the first team he’d killed with Magnus. It’ll have to do.
“You’re in place? I still have eyes on him.”
There’s still no one around. A radio, Alec guesses.
Wait. A radio.
Dammit. The sniper’s teammate is going after Magnus.
He takes another moment to find proper cover behind a boulder, then carefully aims. The guy has no helmet– a mistake, especially this late in the game. Alec has every intention to take advantage of it.
“Yeah, I’m watching over you. Kill him–”
He shoots. The guy crumbles down in a heartbeat.
Alec quickly clears the trees between them, shooting a few more times into the unconscious body. He’s not letting this guy off easy.
Then, it’s a fight against time as he loots the body to pull out the radio and the suppressor the guy had. It takes a few precious seconds, in which he feels his palms start to get sweaty, but then he turns on the radio and starts putting on the suppressor onto his Mosin as a voice is saying, “–fuckin’ Magnus Bane! Where’s your savior now, asshole?”
The scope lets him take in the scene of Magnus’ character crouched down with his hands tied behind his back, a figure standing over him with a gun in hand.
His character takes a deep breath. The gun stabilizes.
“He’s right here,” Alec murmurs quietly into the radio.
The man’s character jerks in place, but it’s too late. The sound of a silenced shot is loud in his ears, and the guy crumbles down to the ground in a heap of limbs.
Alec grins. It’s a bloodthirsty thing.
–
By the time he gets back to Magnus, the fighting down at the town is dying out. Another announcement is made– only 7 people left.
He finds Magnus exactly where he’d last seen him, on his knees, tied up. The body next to him already has flies all over it.
“Magnus?”
Magnus’ character spins quickly to look at him. “Alec! You’re back!” He looks so relieved to see Alec in his cam. It makes Alec duck his head bashfully, trying to keep his attention on his screen as he directs his character to go help Magnus.
“Sorry I took so long.”
Magnus’ character stands up, picking his guns back up from a few feet away, where the guy must’ve tossed them. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
“He was the sniper’s teammate. I heard them talking about you.”
“Oh.”
Magnus turns to at him in-game. His character steps closer, close enough that Alec has a flashback to the day he’d tried to teach Clary how to play this game with Jace and had ended up watching them flirt through the in-game body language in the worst ways possible. He still has nightmares about them crawling left and right on a mattress in some farmhouse, Jace making fake, ridiculous moans to annoy him.
“Well,” Magnus sounds breathy again. The kind that gives Alec goosebumps. “Thank you, Alexander. I owe you my life.”
“Oh, um.” Alec repeatedly presses S key several times, his character jerking back violently. “No need to be so– uh, so dramatic about it. It’s just a game!”
Magnus laughs. It sounds like the most beautiful sound Alec has ever heard. He kinda wishes Magnus would’ve kept laughing when the sound tapers off.
“Nonsense. I owe you, and I hate being in debt.”
Alec spies a movement on his second monitor. He turns to look.
It’s Magnus. He’s left his keyboard and mouse alone to turn his head entirely towards where Alec had initially guessed his second monitor to be. Where Alec’s facecam probably is.
He’s looking at Alec.
“Darling,” he says, and this time, it carries none of the teasing tones all his previous pet names had carried. It sounds genuine– it sounds real. “After this tournament, would you like to go get something to drink? On me, of course.”
His eyebrows are lifted hopefully. It makes the faint, golden eyeshadow on his eyelids glimmer beautifully against his tanned skin. Alec’s eyes trail over Magnus’ features, taking in who is probably the most handsome man he’s ever seen in his life, and his breath catches in his throat.
He realizes with a sudden start that he’s also abandoned the game in favor of looking at Magnus.
Never before he’d gotten distracted like this in a tournament. Not like this.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips. The look in Magnus’ dark eyes nearly makes his toes curl. It’s a flavor of interest that he’s never imagined a man this beautiful could be showing him.
“Yeah,” he finds himself breathing out without realizing, “yes. Um. When?”
A huge smile blooms on Magnus’ face. “How about right after we win this thing?”
Alec smiles right back– he doesn’t think he could’ve stopped himself even if he wanted. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
It feels like the start of something monumental.
–
It’s minutes later, when he wins the tournament with Magnus, is $10.000 richer and has been trending on Twitter for at least an hour, that it dawns on him that he just let his sister, brothers, potentially parents, and at least 100k people watch him get asked out by an Instagram influencer.
And the worst part?
He doesn’t regret even a single second of it.