All I Want For Christmas Is You - a Magnus/Alec fanfiction

Chapter 25 - December 25th - Alec

December 25th - Alec

The first words that greet me as I open my eyes: "Merry Christmas." I blink a few times and smile at Magnus's face on the pillow beside mine, his eyes gleaming happily back at me.

"Merry Christmas." I reply and curl closer, the tip of my nose against his. "Is Toby awake?"

"I don't think so." Magnus replies.

"Do you wanna swap presents now or wait till he wakes up?" I ask.

"Toby doesn't want to watch us give each other boring gifts. Let's do it now."

He sits up and leans over the side of the bed, pulling a box from underneath. It's wrapped neatly, covered in ribbon and bright paper. Too neat. I suspect magical involvement. I carefully unwrap it and pull out a sweater, thick and warm, but looking as if it's fashionable by some standard. And in blue, I note; Magnus's favourite colour on me. I smile.

"Thank you." I say quietly and wrap my arms around his shoulders briefly. Then I pull back. "Your turn."

I stand up and wince as my bare feet hit the cold floor. I pull the gift from my closet and hand it to him, tugging the duvet back over my lap as I sit. My wrapping isn't quite up to Magnus's standard, but then I don't have magic. He peels back the tape and laughs as he holds up the item inside: a shirt, 'blink if you want me' emblazoned on the front in glitter, an exact copy of the one he lent me on the night of our first date. I never gave it back. It just seemed too weird a conversation topic to bring up, so it's still in my closet at the Institute.

"Since I sort of stole yours." I explain.

Magnus laughs and hugs me towards him, kissing my cheek.

"Thank you, Alexander." He smiles.

We spend the morning cleaning up the aftermath of last night's party. The vast majority we do by hand, but both concede that any post-party wreckage in the bathroom warrants magical assistance.

When Toby doesn't appear from his room by ten, we decide we had better wake him. I go to knock but Magnus holds up a hand. He wiggles sparking fingers and sleigh bells jingle from nowhere and everywhere. My blood runs warm with the festivity of it.

"Morning, Toby." I call quietly.

Magnus pushes the door open gently.

"Merry Christmas, biscuit." He says.

To my surprise, Toby isn't just waking up. He's sat on the side of the bed, worrying at his sleeves.

"Merry Christmas." He says, smiling a little, then drops his eyes back to his hands. My stomach turns over. What's wrong with Toby?

"Hey, hey. What's up, biscuit?" Magnus asks, shutting the door behind him.

"It's nothing." Toby mumbles.

"You can tell us." I remind him. "What's wrong?"

"I just...I miss my mom." He admits with a shrug. "I dunno. I guess holidays are just hard."

I think of Max suddenly. What would I have bought him? What would we be doing together today if he was still here? I'll never know. Not now. My chest clenches and I glance at Toby empathetically.

"Yeah," I agree. "I guess you're right. Holidays are kind of hard when you miss someone."

Magnus disappears briefly and returns with three candles, little tea lights in brightly coloured glass holders. He tosses me a box of matches, which I look at, puzzled. He hands us both a candle each.

"In lots of religions, people light candles for the deceased; in commemoration or respect or remembrance. Maybe we should do that."

I glance across at Toby, who looks grateful, and strike a match. I hand it across to him and watch as he lights the wick and blows out the match. This, I realise, is one of the reasons I love Magnus. He doesn't wave away the sadness with a reminder that today is for happiness, or disregard the negative emotion. He acknowledges the grief, and he tries to ease it. He isn't trying to remove the pain, to cure it, he's just trying to make it bearable. Just like he always does. Magnus lights his own candle and I follow suit. I wonder just who Magnus is lighting his candle for. For Ragnor? For Raphael? For countless other lost companions? I watch as the fire illuminates the coloured holder, like sunlight through stained glass, and smile. Ave Atque Vale, little brother. Hail, but never farewell.