Work Text:
When Alec awoke, the first thing he felt was exceptionally disorientated. He wasn't really sure why. He was in Magnus' - no, their - bed, sunlight just attempting to break through the blinds into the room, an arm around his waist.
He blinked, and frowned. He'd come home late the night before, after a gruelling fight with a hoard of Ravener demons, and had been so tired that he'd barely summoned the energy to strip out of his gear and climb into bed. He'd left it all strewn across the floor, too exhausted to care that Magnus would chastise him for it in the morning.
But his gear was nowhere to be seen.
Then another odd thing struck Alec. Magnus felt cold. Not freezing, and it was November, but Magnus was a perpetual inferno—he and his magic warmed Alec up during cold winter nights.
Just to add to the list of strange things, his head was pounding. Jesus. Alec scrubbed a hand across his eyes—
And stared. He blinked furiously, shook his head, and looked at his hand again.
Or, rather, not his hand. His hand wasn't honey-brown, his hand was covered in scars and callouses, and his fingernails most definitely weren't painted neon green.
He sat up abruptly, the comforter pooling around his waist. He stared down at his body. Magnus' body. He ran a hand down his stomach, fingers lingering in shock at the spot where there should have been a navel—a spot he knew very well, but from a very different angle.
He turned to the sleeping form beside him, and nearly jumped out of his at the sight of his own face wearing the expression Magnus usually wore when he slept. Alec stared at himself - at Magnus? - fascinated. He looked so different through Magnus' eyes. It was like all the flaws that he hated had somehow become endearing, or beautiful, or even just weren't there at all.
But how the hell had this happened? If Magnus had been doing experimental magic again, Alec was going to kill him.
"Magnus," Alec hissed, reaching out a manicured hand to shake his boyfriend. He choked when he realised that he was speaking with Magnus' voice. Angel, could it get any weirder? "Wake up."
Magnus, in Alec's body, opened his eyes blearily, his expression dazed. "Alec, what— Oh my god."
Alec pulled a face as he heard his own voice spoken in Magnus' familiar tones. It felt strange, pulling expressions that came so naturally to him on someone else's face. They didn't quite feel right. "Please tell me you can fix this. In fact, no. Please tell me how this happened in the first place."
Magnus sighed, and flopped back. "I may have been drunk last night."
Alec stared at him, incredulous. "You what?"
"I was drunk." Magnus waved a dismissive hand, but paused mid-dismissive-flick, as though he, like Alec, noticed how strange the gesture appeared coming from Alec's body. Well, at least Alec understood why he - or, rather, Magnus' body - had a pounding headache now. He had a hangover.
Alec fixed Magnus with a stern look. "Magnus. Why were you drunk, and how has that lead to me being in your body?"
"I missed you," Magnus murmured, looking up at him with sad blue eyes. On an ordinary day, when Magnus looked at him with his own entrancing eyes and that expression, Alec's heart might have softened. As it was, seeing it on his own face lessened the effect. "You've been so busy, and you stayed at the Institute for the past few nights." He shrugged. The delicate gesture from his body made Alec want to cringe. "I just wanted a distraction."
Alec sighed, and reached out a hand to twine his fingers through Magnus'. Or, rather, his. "I'm sorry, Magnus. I didn't mean to abandon you."
"It's okay," he said. "We have busy lives. Don't feel bad."
"So you did magic drunk?" Alec guessed, raising his eyebrows. Huh. That expression felt much more effective on Magnus' face than his own.
Magnus nodded, and strands of Alec's hair fell into his eyes. Magnus pushed them aside with far less impatience than Alec always did. Alec felt the strangest urge to run his fingers through that hair - his hair - and feel the soft strands between his fingers.
Apparently, regardless of their swapped status, some more basic imprints had been left behind. Because Alec had never looked into a mirror and just stared at his own eyes before as he was now. He couldn't even begin to describe how strange the sensation was.
"I think so," Magnus said. "I was reading something. I left it out. I can check. Either I was very, very drunk, or it went wrong."
A horrible thought struck Alec. "Hang on. This isn't permanent, is it?"
"No. I'd be completely drained if it were. Do you feel drained?"
Alec furrowed his eyebrows. Another expression that seemed...different. "No. I don't think so. I've just got a hangover. Or you've got a hangover. Oh, Angel, this is impossible." He sighed, and flopped back against the pillows beside Magnus.
Magnus smiled. Alec really hoped the tiny twinge in his gut at that expression was a Magnus-response, not an Alec-response.
"It should wear off, then," Magnus said.
"How long?"
"A few hours, probably. No more than a day, I'd guess." A strange look came over Magnus' face. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at Alec, raking his eyes up and down, scrutinising his face and his chest and torso and stomach, down to his prominent hip bones, when the comforter prevented his eyes searching any further.
Alec didn't want to know what Magnus was thinking. "Great," he huffed. "I can't just become the High Warlock of Brooklyn for a day. I can't act like you."
Magnus shrugged. "You don't need to. I haven't got any appointments today."
Alec let out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank the Angel for that."
"Can you feel my magic?" Magnus asked, clearly curious.
"I don't know. How do I tell?"
Magnus looked a little disappointed. "You'd notice it. It'd feel different. It's strange not to feel it." He paused, eyes searching out something on the body which Alec was currently inhabiting. Whatever it was, Alec couldn't see it.
Then he saw the time. His eyes widened. "Crap. Magnus, I– No, you need to go."
Magnus frowned. "Why? Go where?"
"The Institute. The others are all meeting to train now."
Magnus' eyes widened. "Alec, I can't train! I'm not a Shadowhunter! I don't know how to shoot arrows or man-handle Jace or stab your sister or whatever it is you do. Besides, your body hurts. What did you do to yourself last night?"
"I honestly can't remember."
Magnus looked pleadingly at Alec. "Let me make up an excuse. I am not submitting myself to Shadowhunter training when I already feel like I - you - need a hot bath that lasts and hour and a full-body massage. Then maybe another bath for good measure."
Alec chewed on his lip. "I don't know. What excuse are you giving?"
"What gets me out of training?"
"Dying?" Alec suggested wryly.
"I feel like I'm dying," Magnus moaned, always one for drama. "Honestly, Nephilim, you need to have a little more respect for your body. And a more sensible pain threshold, clearly." He scowled. Alec smothered a laugh. That expression suited his face perfectly.
"Alright. Give me my phone." Alec held out a hand, trying to come up with a decent excuse to send to his sister. In the end, he just told her that there was an 'emergency'. It wasn't a lie.
***
Magnus stood leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, while Alec used the bathroom. He wondered whether Alec would notice that he'd been sneaky and used just a touch of make-up: a little eyeliner, a tiny bit of eyeshadow, just a touch of glitter... It was perfect.
Yet, Magnus hadn't been able to shake the very strange feeling he'd had when he looked in that mirror to apply a small portion of his large array of cosmetics to Alec's beautiful face. He'd noticed all those flaws that Alec complained about. He'd noticed them before, of course, but they'd never been flaws, they'd just been a part of Alec; a bit of the beauty that made up his whole.
When Alec reappeared in the kitchen, he was dressed in a pair of sweatpants that were clearly Magnus', as they didn't have any holes in them, and a sweater that was most definitely Alec's for the opposite reason. Alec's - no, Magnus' - face was devoid of any make-up, his hair lacking any product, and Magnus couldn't help the little smile that appeared on his face at the raw, vulnerable appearance.
Was that really how Alec saw him? All perfect beauty, even more so when it was barred plainly like that, with nothing to cover himself up? And god, did Alec, a Shadowhunter, a Lightwood by birth and by name, really see his eyes in that way? How could a constant reminder of his demonic side be so beautiful to a man part angel?
Magnus swallowed, feeling strangely humbled as he experienced just touches of Alec's emotions. He stepped towards him and reached a hand up to cup his cheek, searching, like he had before, for something that wasn't there. He didn't look at himself like this in a mirror, didn't think of himself like this. He wasn't flawless. He wasn't perfect. Not in the way he appeared through Alec's eyes.
"I love you," Magnus whispered.
Alec frowned a little. "I love you," he repeated. "Magnus—" He hesitated.
"What is it?"
"Do you really...do you really see me like this?" Alec looked half nervous, half awed, looking at his own face in the way Magnus had been staring at his.
"Yes," Magnus whispered, looking up just that inch or so that was the height difference between them. It felt strange to be the shorter of the pair. "Yes." He remembered what he'd been most uncomfortable with when he'd looked into the mirror at Alec's body earlier. "Don't hate your scars, Alec. Don't hate anything about yourself."
Alec shook his head. "I don't hate my scars. I'm a warrior. They're the marks to prove that I've been in battle, that my job is to help save mundane lives and keep the peace. I don't exactly love them, but I don't hate them. Not anymore."
Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Anymore?"
"I never really thought about them until I met you. Everyone I knew was covered in scars. But you weren't. And you were looking at every inch of me, telling me that I was beautiful, and I was covered in scars. You weren't. You were flawless. But you made me believe that they're part of who I am, and not a part to be ashamed of."
Magnus couldn't help the soft smile that spread across his face. Strange as it seemed, he linked his hands behind the neck that was, for the moment, Alec's, and kissed him. It was a careful kiss, both tentative, but Magnus felt the same love coming from and for Alec as he always did.
"I have another question," Alec said when they parted.
"Mhm?"
"You don't like your eyes."
Magnus didn't refute the statement. He didn't like his eyes. Like Alec had said about his scars, he didn't hate them, but he hated what they reminded him of. He hated that his eyes had caused the death of his parents. He hated that his eyes were the mark of everything evil in him. He hated that his eyes told everyone else that he was the devil's child.
Alec's - his - fingers brushed against his cheek. "Magnus," he whispered.
Magnus leant into the touch a little, and studied his own eyes in a way he never had before. He realised how Alec looked at them, and his breath caught. A mark of strength, of power; exotic, beautiful. There was a slight hint of sadness there somewhere at the reminder of Magnus' immortality, but it was far back.
"If it makes any difference," Alec said, "I think you know how I feel about those eyes."
Magnus nodded. "I do now."
***
It was late that evening, when Alec was asleep, head in Magnus' - his - lap while Magnus continued reading through the book he'd been looking at the previous night that the warlock felt the tingles in his - Alec's - fingertips.
Magic.
And, mere seconds later, he found himself rolling off the sofa. He fell onto the floor with a thud, disorientated, and blinked, confused for a moment. He held up both hands, and grinned when he saw his own familiar hands.
"Magnus?" Alec asked, in his own, beautiful voice. "Why are you on the floor?"
"You were asleep, in my body, when we switched back. It was a bit of a shock." He looked up and smiled widely at Alec, his Alec, in the right body. It had been interesting, certainly, with some unexpected perks, but he wanted to look at and love those blue eyes, not see all the imperfections that Alec saw in himself.
He hauled himself up, back onto the sofa, and snatched away the book lying in Alec's lap. He straddled his Shadowhunter's thighs, slid his hands into his hair, and kissed him, not and hard and needy in the way he'd wanted to all day, but couldn't.
"Please," Alec said when they parted for a breathless second, "never do that again."
Magnus raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, kiss you?"
Alec rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"I think you might have to be a little more specific," Magnus murmured, brushing his lips over Alec's earlobe.
Alec growled low in this throat, and when he spoke, his voice was rough and raw and dominant. "I'll show you specific, Magnus Bane. You put eyeliner on me."
So he had noticed. Magnus couldn't help smirking at him. Alec narrowed his eyes, danger and passion flashing across his face, before Magnus found himself flat on his back, wrists pinned above his head.
Oh, Magnus couldn't wait to see where this would go.