It's 7.30am, and the alarm on Alec's phone goes off.
Alec groans and slaps his hand on the nightstand, blindly trying to grab the offending device, and Magnus plucks it out of his reach.
"You have a meeting, love. You made me promise that I wouldn't let you oversleep."
"Why did I ever think it was a good idea to schedule a meeting this early?" Alec grumbles, burying his head under the pillow and drawing the covers over himself as if he's trying to spin himself a cocoon of smooth silk sheets.
Magnus' hand comes to rest lightly on his arm. "If you let me portal you to the Institute, you could probably sleep in for another half an hour."
Alec emerges from the depths of the bedclothes immediately. "No, you have a full day too. I don't want you to exhaust yourself."
Magnus smiles at him, brushing a lock of Alec's hair back, and kisses him on the forehead. "I'll be fine. After all, I'm Magnus Lightwood-Bane."
It's 12.47pm, and the streets of New York are packed with people on their lunch break. Alec is standing in a corner, trying to stay out of the way of the jostling, harried crowd. There are too many people looking at their phones instead of where they are going, and Alec is starting to think that he needn't have bothered glamouring himself when another person bumps into him and doesn't even seem to notice that they poked an invisible man in the back with their elbow. He turns when he feels a hand on the small of his back.
"Sorry I'm late. My client was a real piece of- well, suffice to say, this is the last time I'm accepting an appointment from them," Magnus says.
Alec laces their fingers together, and brings Magnus' hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.
"It's ok. Didn't mind waiting for you," Alec says.
They make their way down the street, still holding hands.
It's 11.53pm, and Magnus is walking down the hallways of the New York Institute in search of his husband. These hallways have become very familiar, and the sight of Magnus walking around unchaperoned hardly raises any eyebrows anymore, but he's sure all that is going to change when they move to Alicante.
Alec looks up when Magnus knocks on the door, and glances at the clock on the wall when he sees who it is. "What? How is it almost midnight?" Alec runs a hand through his hair in exasperation and sighs. "Why don't you head home first? Don't wait up, I really need to finish this folder of reports, at least."
"Can't Isabelle help? She's going to be the new Head of the New York Institute, after all," Magnus says, moving behind Alec to perch on the ledge of the stained glass window, his hands settling on his shoulders.
"No, she's already done a lot," Alec mumbles tiredly.
"I think a good night's sleep will help," Magnus says, kneading Alec's tense shoulders. Alec lets out a sigh and leans into Magnus' touch.
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I'll just keep worrying about all the work that I haven't done," Alec admits.
"I can probably help with that," Magnus murmurs, leaning down to kiss the junction between Alec's neck and shoulders, a simple press of his lips on Alec's skin.
"Magnus," Alec complains half-heartedly.
Magnus kisses him again - this time with an open-mouthed kiss with just a bit of suction, and Alec groans.
"Alright, you win. Let's go home."
It's 3.01am, and it's pouring. They are two silhouettes laughing and running in the rain, and although the weight of who they are means that they are always more than just two people in love, right now that is all that they are, too. They duck into the meagre shelter of an alley so Magnus can draw up a portal for them away from mundane eyes; a police car goes by, sirens and lights blaring, and Alec pushes them against the wall, deeper into the shadows.
"Alexander," Magnus says softly, his breath ghosting Alec's cheek and their bodies touching from thigh to chest.
Alec closes the distance between them like a man in a dream, to gently press his lips to Magnus'. Magnus' lips are cold from the rain, but they are soft and taste faintly like the gin martinis he was drinking but mostly like something Alec will never get enough of, and when Magnus coaxes his mouth open with his tongue, and Alec gives himself over to Magnus readily, holding nothing back. Magnus' lips follow the path marked out by the rune on his neck from his jawline to his clavicle, his tongue dipping into the hollow of Alec's throat, and Alec's hands have gone from clutching at Magnus' lapels to fumbling with buttons.
"Mmm, hold that thought," Magnus murmurs, and flings out a swirling vortex of magic that takes them back to the Loft, takes them home.
In a moment they step through from cold rain and into warmth, and then it's Alec's turn to be pinned against the wall.
Magnus smiles against his lips. "Now, where were we?"