Adrienne dashed inside, almost skidding on the tiled floor, and threw herself to the ground and enveloped Marcy in her arms.

“Are you hurt? Show me,” Marcy whispered into her shoulder.

“It’s fine, it’s nothing, it’s absolutely all right,” said Adrienne, stroking Marcy’s hair.

“I’m so sorry,” said Marcy, cupping Adrienne’s face. They kissed, heedless of the fact that Alec and Magnus were standing right there.

When they broke apart, Adrienne rocked Marcy in her arms and whispered, “We’ll figure this out so it never happens again. We will.”

Other people followed Adrienne’s lead and came in by twos and threes.

“You’re pretty snappily dressed for a dogcatcher,” said a man Magnus thought was the bartender.

Magnus inclined his head. “Thank you very much.”

More people swirled back in, cautiously at first and then in far greater numbers. Nobody was asking where exactly the dog had gone. A great many of them seemed to want drinks.

Perhaps some of them would ask questions later, when the shock had worn off, and this night’s work would become a situation that needed clearing up. But Magnus decided that was a problem for later.

“That was nice, what you said to her,” said Magnus, when the crowd had completely hidden Marcy and Adrienne from their sight.

“Uh . . . it was nothing,” said Alec, shifting and looking embarrassed. The Shadowhunters did not see much to approve of in kindness, Magnus supposed. “I mean, that’s what we’re here for, aren’t we? Shadowhunters, I mean. We have to help anyone who needs help. We have to protect people.”

The Nephilim Magnus had known had seemed to believe the Downworlders were created to help them, and to be disposed of if they didn’t help enough.

Magnus looked at Alec. He was sweaty and still breathing a little hard, the scratches on his arms and face healing quickly thanks to the iratzes on his skin.

“I don’t think we’re going to get a drink in here; there’s much too long a line,” said Magnus slowly. “Let’s have a nightcap back at my place.”

They walked home. Though it was a long way, it was a nice walk on a summer night, the air warm on Magnus’s bare arms and the moon turning the Brooklyn Bridge into a highway of shining white.

“I’m really glad your friend called you to help that girl,” Alec confessed as they walked. “I’m really glad you asked me along. I was—I was surprised you did, after how things were going before.”

“I was worried you were having a terrible time,” Magnus told him. It felt like putting a lot of power in Alec’s hands, but Alec was honest with him and Magnus found himself possessed by the strange impulse to be honest back.

“No,” said Alec, and went red. “No, that’s not it at all. Did I seem— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Magnus told him softly.

Words seemed to explode out of Alec in a rush, though judging by his expression he wished he could hold them back. “It was my fault. I got everything wrong even before I showed up, and you knew how to order at the restaurant and I had to stop myself laughing at that song on the subway. I have no idea what I’m doing and you’re, um, glamorous.”

“What?”

Alec looked at Magnus, stricken, as if he thought he’d got everything wrong again.

Magnus wanted to say, No, I was the one who brought you to a terrible restaurant and treated you like a mundane because I didn’t know how to date a Shadowhunter and almost bailed on you even though you were brave enough to ask me out in the first place.

 What Magnus actually ended up saying was, “I thought that terrible song was hilarious,” and he threw back his head and laughed. He glanced over at Alec and found him laughing too. His whole face changed when he laughed, Magnus thought. Nobody had to be sorry for anything, not tonight.

When they reached Magnus’s home, Magnus laid a hand on the front door and it swung open.

“I lost my keys maybe fifteen years ago,” Magnus explained.

He really should get around to getting more keys cut. He didn’t really need them, though, and it had been a long time since there was anyone he wanted to have his keys—to have ready access to his home because he wanted them there anytime they wanted to come. There had been nobody since Etta, half a century ago.

Magnus gave Alec a sidelong look as they climbed the rickety stairs. Alec caught the glance, and his breathing quickened; his blue eyes were bright. Alec bit his lower lip, and Magnus stopped walking.

It was only a momentary hesitation. But then Alec reached out and caught his arm, fingers tight above his elbow.

“Magnus,” he said in a low voice.

Magnus realized that Alec was mirroring the way Magnus had taken hold of Alec’s arms on Tuesday: on the day of Alec’s first kiss.

Magnus’s breath caught in his throat.

That was apparently all the encouragement Alec needed. He leaned in, expression open and ardent in the darkness of the stairs, in the hush of this moment. Alec’s mouth met Magnus’s, soft and gentle. Getting his breath back was an impossibility, and no longer a priority.

Magnus closed his eyes and unbidden images came to him: Alec trying not to laugh on the subway, Alec’s startled appreciation at the taste of new food, Alec glad not to be ditched, Alec sitting on the floor with and telling a werewolf that she could not help what she was. Magnus found himself almost afraid at the thought of what he had nearly done in almost leaving Alec before the evening was over. Leaving Alec was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He pulled in Alec by the belt loops of his jeans, closed all distance between their bodies and caught Alec’s tiny needful gasp with his mouth.

The kiss caught fire and all he could see behind his closed eyes were gold sparks; all he was aware of was Alec’s mouth, Alec’s strong gentle hands that had held down a werewolf and tried not to hurt her, Alec pressing him against the banister so the rotten wood creaked alarmingly and Magnus did not even care,—Alec here, Alec now, the taste of Alec in his mouth, his hands pushing aside the fabric of his own worn T-shirt to get at Alec’s bare skin underneath.

It took an embarrassingly long time before they both remembered that Magnus had an apartment, and tumbled toward it without disentangling from each other. Magnus blew the door open without looking at it: the door banged so hard against the wall that Magnus cracked an eye open to check that he had not absentmindedly made his front door explode.

Alec kissed a sweet careful line down Magnus’s neck, starting from just below his ear to the hollow at the base of his throat. The door was fine. Everything was great.

Magnus pulled Alec down to the sofa, Alec collapsing bonelessly on top of him. Magnus fastened his lips to Alec’s neck. He tasted of sweat and soap and skin, and Magnus bit down, hoping to leave a mark on the pale skin there, wanting to. Alec gave a breathy whimper and pushed his body into the contact. Magnus’s hands slid up under Alec’s rumpled shirt, learning the shape of Alec’s body. He ran his fingers over the swell of Alec’s shoulders and down the long lean curve of his back, feeling the scars of his profession and the wildness of his kisses. Shyly, Alec undid the buttons on Magnus’s waistcoat, laying skin bare and slipping inside to touch Magnus’s chest, his stomach, and Magnus felt cool silk replaced by warm hands, curious and caressing. He felt Alec’s fingers shaking against his skin.