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Alexander Lightwood marries Lydia Branwell on a Tuesday. He wears a bow tie and she wears a white dress, and there are tears in her eyes when they are pronounced husband and wife. She thinks this is the first day of the rest of my life. He just tries to remember how to breathe.
They don't get a honeymoon, because it's not that kind of marriage, and there's too much work to do with running the Institute. Besides, Alec has his hands full with his sister, who is unstoppable on the best of days, and Jace, who seems to have adopted a baby shadowhunter and her pet mundane, and they're on some sort of ridiculous quest for the Mortal Cup. Alec can't stop Jace and he can't reason with Clary, so he just straps himself in for the ride and tries not to get whiplash.
The first time he and Lydia try to sleep together is, quite frankly a disaster. She's beautiful, she really is, and objectively, Alec knows that. Knows he should be feeling something more than... Fondness. But Lydia is kind and caring to a fault, and accepts his excuses of tiredness and nervousness and inexperience with a gentle pat to the cheek. "You've nothing to prove, darling," she says, sincerely, and Alec feels his chest fill with a curious mix of gratitude and dread.
Alec doesn't know what's wrong with him. In his head, he knows what he should be feeling for Lydia. Knows in some sketchy detail what their wedding night should have entailed. Knows what she must have expected when he got on one knee in an empty office and asked her to marry him. But the thought of doing... That with her genuinely didn't occur to him until after his vows had been said, and with them his fate sealed. He wonders if that's normal. He's sure it isn't.
As a rule, he tries to stay off the mundane Internet. Apart from a brief foray into the world of Internet porn aged fifteen (and discovering that he definitely was not a fan) he's never had any desire to spend any extended period on it, and neither does most of the Institute. All the information they would ever need is right at their fingertips in the Archives, and besides, they don't get very much downtime anyway. But this is a dire situation, and not one he wants anyone at the Institute knowing about, so he pulls out his laptop and starts googling.
Forty five minutes later, he's still as confused as before. He's not sure he's searching the right terms, but all he seems to be getting are mundane health conditions that mostly affect men over the age of fifty, and he's fairly sure those don't apply to him for many, many reasons. So he resigns himself to his confusion, and tries to put it out of his mind.
And then Magnus Bane comes crashing into his life.
Magnus looks at him like he's a discovery, and Alec feels almost naked under the scrutiny of his gaze. The back of his neck prickles with sudden heat, his palms sweat, his heart races, and he feels entirely like a teenager and nothing like himself. Still, he can't help the smile that spreads across his face when he introduces himself because the man in front of him - the very decidedly male man - is the single most beautiful creature Alec has ever seen, and he barely allows himself to acknowledge that thought before its buried way down deep behind a door Alec is sort of realising is there but won't dare open. Not yet.
He shakes with his left hand, making sure to display his wedding ring. He's not sure why he does this - Lydia isn't here, and Magnus, for all his eccentricity and wandering gaze, would never attempt anything. Not at the first meeting, anyway.
"Ah, so the Shadowhunter is taken," Magnus says, a cryptic smile on his face. "And who is the lucky-" A pause, in which Magnus looks Alec up and down. "-person," he finally finishes, and Alec doesn't want to know why he says it like that.
"Her name is Lydia," he says, frowning.
"Branwell?" Magnus replies, and Alec nods. "Yes, we've had dealings previously. A lovely girl, if I may say. One of the few members of the Clave who doesn't treat us Downworlders like..." He cuts himself off, sparing a quick glance at Alec, who looks concerned. "Well, like the Clave usually treats Downworlders."
The warlock looks so hurt all of a sudden, and Alec's fingers itch with a sudden, uncontrollable need to reach out, to make contact, in a way he's never felt before. He puts his hands deep into his pockets and stumbles over his words, and after a few minutes, Magnus's face clears and he eyes the blushing shadowhunter with a new curiosity.
Alec’s just come home from Magnus’s and he feels on edge, off-kilter, like his entire world has shifted one space to the left. He's in a tactile sort of mood - Magnus, for whatever reason, seems to bring it out in him - so he envelops Lydia in a sweeping hug as soon as he sees her in their bedroom. She lets out a surprised gasp and laughs into his chest.
"Good day?" She says, disentangling herself from his grasp. One hand stays on his chest as she leans down to remove her shoes. He steadies her while she undoes the buckles.
"I was working with Magnus. He's, uh. Quite magical." he says, distracted. "I mean, he's good at magic." Alec blushes scarlet to his ears and so doesn't notice the amused look she gives him as he fumbles with his words.
Later that night, they're lying in the dark, watching the moon as it shines through the high window. Lydia looks over, sees Alec's chest rising and falling, and knows he's not asleep, not yet.
"Alec," she murmurs, brushing her knuckles across the back of his arm. Goosebumps rise along the path her fingers take, and he lets out an involuntary breath. "You're my best friend. You know that, right?"
Even in the dark, she can see him smiling as his eyes slide over to her silhouetted form. She can't make herself look away. He grabs her hand where it's fallen by his side and brings it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the pulse point in her wrist. "I love you, Lydia," he says, sincerely, and she feels like she might cry, though she doesn't quite know the reason.
"Your mother keeps asking me when we'll be giving her grandchildren," Lydia says one day, sidling up beside him. He's in the main room of the Institute, high up where he can see everything, and he leans over the railing like this is his own kingdom to survey. She doesn't miss the way he tenses up at the mention of grandchildren. It's the same tension he has when they talk about anything more intimate than handholding, or when he comes home from visiting Magnus Bane. "How about we just adopt Clary and her mundane friend?" She says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. It works. Alec barks a laugh so loud that several of the Institute staff look up to where he's standing.
"If we did, Clary would technically be Jace's niece, and something tells me he wouldn't be happy about that." With a meaningful glance, he nods over to the sparring area, where Jace is training Clary. Every move she makes, he looks at her like he's seeing the sun for the first time. Alec finds it kind of sickening, but he's not sure why. He watches Clary train, and is annoyed to see she's a natural. Lydia doesn't take her eyes off her husband's face, and he pretends to ignore her scrutiny. It's petty, he knows, but he can't help the way his jaw is clenching, his annoyance at the red haired girl who's just sprung into his life showing on his face like a billboard announcement. He still hasn't forgiven Clary for the whole "you're in love with Jace" thing she sprung on him the other week, which, first of all, is ridiculous on so many levels. Jace is his brother, his parabatai, and Clary obviously just doesn't understand that kind of bond, which he tells her as much. But she counters with a smug, "if it really meant nothing, I'm sure you'll tell Lydia everything when you get home," and he has to admit, she stumped him with that one. He still hasn't told Lydia. He doesn't know if he can.
Somewhere in between all of the chaos, the warlock gets Alec's phone number. Magnus Bane makes him a drink, and something in Alec's heart slots into place like coming home. The city skyline sparkles before them through the wide window, and all Alec can think is that he's never seen the city from this high up, never had the chance to notice it's beauty. He feels like a bird in Magnus's presence, soaring and untethered as he watches the lights flicker. He feels free. A new feeling, warm and intense like liquor, uncurls deep in his gut the next time he catches Magnus's eye, and in another life, another universe, something - though Alec can't possibly imagine what - might have happened. But Alec is straight, and Alec is married, and Alec doesn't have goddamn time for this. And if at least two of those things feel like a lie, he'll blame it on the alcohol.
When he gets home the next morning, a crick in his neck from sleeping on the warlock's couch, he is greeted by his wife, who's smiling, and his mother, who isn't. Maryse barely says a word before stalking away, and the churning feeling in his gut is nothing like what he felt with Magnus. Lydia links her arm with his and distracts him with work. Throughout the day, she spares him knowing glances and asks him leading questions, and he knows she means well, he really does, but her concern is doing nothing to help the tornado brewing in his chest.
Magnus Bane takes no prisoners except for the cage he's sealed around Alec's heart. Alec feels trapped, like a fly under a bell jar, and it seems like every which way he tries to go he comes face to face with solid glass. Magnus is confusing and powerful and ancient and wonderful, and the longer he knows him, the more sure Alec is that this warlock is the most dangerous person he's ever met. But Magnus makes him feel safe, even though safe doesn't exist, not in the Shadow World, and Alec is infinitely drawn to Magnus, because he's the only person Alec has ever known who can make the world seem quiet.
He does more internet searches and finally hits upon the right results. Seeing it in writing, what he's sure he is, what he's sure he's always been, doesn't cause any relief. He has a wife to think about, a decidedly female wife, who is lovely as she is kind, but who must have been undeniably lonely since they both said 'I do'. He tries to push it down like he always has, but it's like the door has been unlocked, and things he'd rather deny are escaping through the cracks.
The next time he considers sleeping with his wife is the last. They've been married for months at this point, and Alec decides enough is enough. He psyches himself up, tells himself everything will be fine, but it never once occurs to him that it doesn't have to be this way. I'm ready, he says, I can do this. But as soon as she takes her cardigan off the low hum of tension that’s been thrumming under his skin disappears. Almost as quickly, he feels nausea take over, bile rising in his throat, and he wants to kick himself, could just cry and cry and cry because of course he’d be a disappointment, of course he couldn’t give Lydia the marriage she wanted, of course he couldn’t be the husband and leader and person everyone thinks he is.
“Alec…” she says, and he hates to hear her voice like that, drawn and tired and long suffering. He drops his head and scratches the back of his neck, shame and guilt building inside him.
“Lydia, I…” He starts, and his mouth dries up. He feels like he might choke. “I think I might be gay.”
She snorts unattractively and a hand flies up to cover her face. “You don’t say,” She says, muffled behind her palm, and there’s a smirk on her face, as though she doesn't believe what he’s telling her. But then she takes a look at him, rubbing the palm of his left hand, looking up at her with terrified, earnest eyes, and she draws in a sharp breath. “You didn’t… you really didn’t know?”
“No, but everyone else did, apparently!” He exclaims, standing. He’s a tightly wound ball of energy, unable to stand still, and he paces back and forth until she comes to stand behind him at the window, placing both of her hands on his shoulders. He falls still immediately, as though contained. His shoulders drop from his ears just slightly.
“Alec, when you proposed to me, I never expected anything more from you than I’d had before that. I thought we made a good team. I expected you to be good, and kind, and caring, which you have always, always been.” She carefully places her arms around his waist and rests her forehead between his shoulder-blades. He entwines his fingers with hers. “I expected this marriage to be a partnership. I never wanted you to do anything you were uncomfortable with.”
He turns to face her and it's like every line on his face has deepened. He looks older. He looks sad.
"I took away your chance to fall in love again," he says, bitterly. "It never occurred to me what you'd be giving up. I was so selfish when I asked you to marry me."
Her eyes are glistening and she's so earnest, the knot in his chest loosens, just slightly.
"I didn't have to say yes, Alec." She whispers, and she's got a strange little half smile on her lovely face. "I knew you were gay before you even proposed. That wasn't a surprise."
He bites his lip, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor as his stomach churns.
“So you’re not, you know. Disgusted with me?” He says, quietly. She looks at him sharply, eyes flashing with something he can’t quite identify.
“Are you disgusted with you?” She replies, and there’s concern in there, thinly veiled worry that he can't help but pick up on. He takes a moment to thank the Angels for this woman, this wonderful, wonderful woman who cares for every being she comes across and thinks of everyone but herself. He thinks about her question, really thinks about it, and comes up blank. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Lydia frowns, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows.
"Think about it this way. If Isabelle told you she was gay, would you be disgusted by her?"
"Of course not!" Alec says, immediately, looking at her incredulously. She raises her eyebrows meaningfully.
"Then why should it be any different for you?"
A short huff escapes his lips, and he tucks his chin into his chest, folding his arms. He snags his bottom lip between his teeth and chews on it thoughtfully, and then shrugs. It's as close to acceptance as she thinks she'll get for now.
"Alec, I won't pretend to know how to help you with this. But just know, I don't think any less of you." She ducks her head to catch his eye, and is pleased when he doesn't look away. "I meant it when I said you were my best friend." His lips twitch upwards in what she thinks might be a smile.
"And I meant it when I said I love you," he replies, pulling her in for a hug.
"You know, I'm glad it was you I married," she says into his chest, and she can feel him let out a breathy laugh, the vibrations echoing in his chest.
Later, after they've put out all the fires that crop up constantly and suddenly around the Institute (including one actual fire), they retreat back to their bedroom. They change in silence, and it's only once they're both seated on the bed that she makes any mention of their previous conversation. She places a warm hand on his cheek and looks at him with kind, loving eyes. “You deserve to be happy.” She says, and it’s like something comes loose in his chest, a sort of dam breaks, and everything he's been suppressing comes flooding out at once. He cries that night, head pillowed in Lydia's lap, and he eventually falls asleep to the soothing scratch of her fingers against his scalp.
Things are better after that. Not great, but better. He doesn't tell his friends, because they already know. He doesn't tell his parents, because they wouldn't want to know. And he doesn't tell Magnus because... Well, it would feel too much like an invitation, and he's not quite ready for that step yet. Alec and Lydia have long talks about feelings and boundaries and occasionally, more intimate things, which make Alec twitchy every time she brings it up. He spends a lot of time with Magnus, and she spends a lot of time with Izzy (and Alec is beginning to wonder if there wasn't something veiled in her question about Izzy being gay) and though the Shadow World seems to be falling apart around their ears, he feels a lot more comfortable in himself than he has for a long time. Magnus seems to be utterly delighted by the increasing frequency of visits, and it's something new and unfamiliar for Alec, to have someone ecstatic simply because he's there.
Alexander Lightwood kisses Magnus Bane on a Tuesday. He's wearing a ratty old black tshirt and Magnus is wearing a blue silk robe, and there's a smile on both of their faces as their lips meet. Magnus thinks I could do this forever. Alec thinks finally.