Chiaroscuro (Malec AU)

7

Alec dreamt of Magnus that night.

He dreamt of light and of color and of shadow; the feathery bristles of brushes, the rough threads of canvas, the harsh smell of turpentine. He dreamt of paint stained hands, of soft touches, of fleeting glances; the spicy scent of sandalwood, the low melodic rasp of his voice, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He dreamt of fingertips across skin, the brush of lips on his cheek, the heat of words against his ear. He dreamt of himself sinking, deeper and deeper, into the depths that raged behind half lidded eyes.

He dreamt, and he dreamt, and he dreamt, never wanting to wake.

Gentle rays of morning sun roused him from his sleep. He groaned and turned away. Scents of brewing coffee and bacon rode in on a draft. They permeated the room, filled his nostrils. His stomach growled and his eyes fluttered open. He rolled on his back and rubbed his face, turning his head to glimpse the sun cresting over the tops of buildings. His hand raised to his cheek, where the ghost of lips still burned his skin. Outside, a pigeon cooed. A man shouted in the streets below. A plane roared in the sky overhead. Alec laid there, listening to the sounds of a waking city, clinging to the fading imagery of dreams half forgotten, before the ache in his bladder forced him out of bed.

**

Isabelle flipped bacon in a pan, humming along to a pop song playing softly from her phone. Alec wandered into the kitchen, following the scent of food and caffeine. He yawned and ruffled his bedraggled hair.

"Oh! Hey! Morning, sleepy head!" Isabelle smiled when she saw him. Her eyes shone bright and alert despite the early hour. Alec watched her warily.

"You're cooking breakfast? That's terrifying."

Isabelle huffed.

"Oh, stop. I've cooked breakfast before and it turned out fine."

"You burned the toast."

"Everyone's burnt toast."

"And the toaster caught on fire."

Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"That was an accident."

"And the scrambled eggs had more shells in them than an aquarium gift shop."

Isabelle slammed the tongs down on the stove.

"Oh my God! Are you gonna have some or not?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

Alec made his way over to the coffee maker and poured a cup. He drank it black, humming when the bitter liquid touched his tongue. The fog lifted from his mind. The pull of sleep lessened. He grabbed a bagel from the bread basket and a tub of cream cheese from the fridge and settled into a chair at the kitchen island. Isabelle joined him with a plate of overcooked bacon and eggs, accompanied by charred toast slathered in butter. Alec eyed her food in disgust.

"You're gonna eat that?"

"Yup."

"Should I say a prayer?"

Isabelle slapped his arm. Alec yelped and rubbed the rising welt on his bicep.

"Ow, that was kinda hard."

Isabelle stabbed a fork into her rubbery eggs and took a bite.

"You're such a baby."

**

Alec nibbled on his bagel and watched in abject horror as Isabelle wolfed down her food. He didn't know whether to be disgusted or impressed. She brought her plate to the sink and started the dishes.