Chapter Text
These are the days that test man's patience, Magnus thought as he poured his third martini in less than two hours.
His two beautiful darling boys had their first spat and naturally the loft became ground zero immediately following sunset. Simon had apparently bolted from DuMort to The Jade Wolf in search of Luke and Magnus got Raphael. He didn't mind listening as it kept the two hot headed vampires from hissing at one another and throwing passive aggressive jabs (oh but they excel at those).
Raphael perched on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees. "He came home at five without a single call to let me know he was alive. Five, Magnus. In the morning, two hours before sunrise."
The warlock arched a brow and stirred his drink, allowing the other to continue.
"He went straight to bed without even feeding. And when I confronted him about it, he accused me of overreacting. Me," Raphael clenched his jaw and pointedly avoided eye contact.
He was one step from angrily crying at the thought of losing Simon Lewis for good and it made Magnus' heart ache. He's one of Magnus' oldest friends and when he'd fallen for the fledgling, he'd given him everything. When he loved, it was a lifetime affair. He reminded Magnus of Guadalupe Santiago in that regard. Raphael's mother had thrown everything she was and had ever been into her sons and it showed.
He continued, tone softer. "I'm not the one who conveniently forgot to feed for six hours. Dios, he could've fainted on the way home."
Magnus placed his drink on a coaster and gently eased his friend down onto the sofa.
It went without saying that petting his hair was a foolproof way to calm him and had been since he'd been a wild eyed fledgling terrified of getting too close. Raphael was much older and mature now but even the strongest need consoling especially when their reckless other half is determined to get himself killed.
On the inside, the elder vampire is still the frantic scared little boy Magnus once took under his wing even if Simon cannot see it.
He gently stroked and softly murmured, "Shh. He's okay, Cookie. I'm sure he's learned his lesson, he is still a fledgling. We all start somewhere."
Raphael's eyes fluttered closed, visibly relaxing. "He won't allow me to protect him and training is coming along slowly. He's easily distracted. What am I supposed to do if he won't listen? Follow him?"
"Have you tried talking to him about it?"
"He's too stubborn to listen, Magnus."
The warlock lightly skimmed his fingers over the worried crease between Raphael's eyes and trailed backward to his forehead, another timeless technique. He thought back to the many years his spirited night child spent in self imposed isolation and the strained months of burning his own skin with sacred holy symbols. He'd been a fledgling then with guarded brown eyes and fierce loyalty once Magnus had earned his trust.
Love and devotion, he'd learned, kept Raphael from greeting the sunrise.
"Mmm, I've heard this story before."
Raphael huffed, affronted. "I was never that bad."
"Mmhmm, tell that the the mark on your left pinky. It's permanently scarred because your ignorant, forgive me for saying so, curiosity made you take on the sun with one finger at least. I shudder to think of what would've become of you had I not shown up."
Raphael shivered at the thought, a phantom pain shooting up the digit. "What's your point?"
"My point is," Magnus replied, straightening and dislodging the head in his lap. "If we want forgiveness, we must first forgive, Rafe. Now go to him and use your words. No hissing."
"But-"
The elder downworlder held up a finger - "NO. Go kiss and makeup or bite...whatever it is you kids are into these days."
Raphael hesitated at the open doorway. "Thank you," he offered, leaning into his friend for a hug. The embrace was comforting and warm - a soothing heartbeat and ew. Repulsive scent. He sniffed, "You stink."
"That's vodka, sweetheart. It's imported and cost more than your jacket. Now, shoo. Off you go."
As soon as his friend was out of sight, Magnus powered his phone on and hit Luke Garroway.
"DuMort. Five minutes max," he texted.
Luke replied less than a minute later with, "Simon left about ten minutes ago."
"Excellent," Magnus sent.
They'd make up and forget all about it until the next time. Ah, young love. Such turmoil and drama. He smiled to himself, hitting the button for Alec's number. It rang twice before his own beloved other half picked up.
"Yeah?"
"He's gone."
"On my way."