“Don’t you dare!” Alec barks, stomping into the room.
Magnus freezes for a second like the proverbial deer in the headlights, but then he turns around slowly and lifts the… thing he was about to quietly and definitely rid them of. “This isn’t a sweater, it’s a rag that something big, ugly and toothy chewed on and then spit out in disgust!”
“Gimme that!” Alec snatches it back and cradles it protectively.
Magnus throws up his hands. “I give up. Just give me one good reason for why you insist on insulting my closet with this… this…” He finds no fitting words.
Alec narrows his eyes and says, “Fine. Come here.” Then he grabs Magnus and starts manhandling the faintly protesting warlock around like rag doll, until he manages to pull the tattered, greenish-grey thing over his head and stuff his slender arms through the loose sleeves.
When Alec turns his lover towards the full length mirror in the corner of their bedroom, Magnus almost recoils in horror. “Dear God, what ever did I do to you?”
Alec snorts, then he winds his arms around Magnus from behind and props his chin on Magnus’ shoulder. “Shh. Now, close your eyes for a second and just feel. Come on,” Alec prompts gently when Magnus glares at him.
With a put upon sigh, Magnus complies. And okay, the cotton is soft, worn smooth and comfortable, he admits as he runs his hands up and down the holey sleeves. The sensation makes him want to… snuggle.
“Oh,” Magnus whispers and when he opens his eyes, he finds Alec looking at him in the mirror.
Alec smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and kisses Magnus’ ear. “Yeah, oh…” he agrees and pulls Magnus tighter to him, his warmth loosening something in the warlock’s chest.
And years later, when the ugly, tattered sweaters are the only thing Magnus has left of Alec, they still feel like his husband’s embrace.