Chapter Text
Okay, maybe he’s a little lost.
Magnus looks at the app on his phone, screen mockingly cheerful as it declares that he’s reached his destination. He ignores the constant stream of notifications from incoming emails and calendar alerts, focusing instead on the miniature map where his location is marked with a star.
He looks up but only sees a bookstore where the restaurant supposedly sits. Ragnor is going to kill him. They have a standing lunch date every Thursday afternoon and Ragnor was nothing if not punctual. Magnus can hear the sarcasm from here.
Did the weight of your ego slow you down?
If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had higher priorities than me.
Rolling his eyes, Magnus does a quick scan of the block but doesn’t see anything that looks like a trendy Mediterranean restaurant. He debates on what to do before sighing and reaching for the door to the bookstore. Maybe an employee will be able to help him.
He takes a minute to look at the exterior of the shop and likes what he sees. It’s October and the window display has autumn-themed cookbooks out intermingled with Halloween decorations, including painted pumpkins and a witch's hat. It’s cute, cheerful yet practical, with a touch of casual elegance.
The door is black with a frosted glass window. Etched into glass is the name of the store.
Lightwood Books. Est. 2016.
The font is reminiscent of some bygone era, all curlicues and cursive. When Magnus swings the door open, a little bell chimes and he sees the same streak of whimsy and understated elegance as he takes in the rest of the bookstore.
It’s two stories and the first floor is done in the same dark tones as the outside. The walls are bookshelves from floor to ceiling, done in dark teak wood. The room is cluttered-- not cramped but there are several display tables ranging from books on special topics to book related gifts to more Halloween decor.
It’s lively yet muted, the perfect balance that invites the customer to browse or settle in with a book and a hot chocolate.
Magnus smiles as he sees another painted pumpkin in a rainbow of colors. It’s homey and comfortable but with a modern twist. Magnus already wishes he had the time to browse more thoroughly.
He doesn’t see another person. Taking a few steps inside, the door shuts behind him.
“Hello,” he calls out into the warm silence of the store.
There’s no answer and Magnus is intrigued. It’s obviously a well-kept store. The stock is in perfect condition and it’s furnished with care. Curious, he ventures further into the store. Unable to help himself, he strolls through the first floor. It looks like a mix of adult fiction and nonfiction. He falls in love with the color scheme even more as it provides a perfect contrast to the bright spines and colorful covers of the books themselves.
He sees the latest thriller from an author he adores and can’t help but pick it up. He might be a few minutes late, but hopefully Ragnor will calm down when he sees the book in his hand.
Distantly, he quiets the voice that insists he keep a strict schedule. Surely, a few minutes won’t hurt.
He sees a staircase that was hidden from the front door and with an inward shrug, starts climbing. He’s a little surprised that the stairs don’t creak and can’t decide if that’s disappointing or not.
The second floor is a burst of color. There’s a little café with a delightfully handwritten menu done in chalk. The pastries look divine and Magnus is sorely tempted to order a latte.
He doesn’t though; instead, he turns his back on the coffee and sees the children’s section. It’s bright and fun with bookshelves in every color, height appropriate for the kids. There’s a huge rug in the center of the area and it’s lined with baskets of toys on one edge.
Magnus barely notices the rest of the area as his gaze lands on a broad back. The man looks to be doing inventory, if the boxes and clipboard are any indication, and he looks great from the rear. Magnus can see a tall frame and dark hair and jeans hugging a truly lovely ass.
Clearing his throat, Magnus smiles as the man turns around and-- Christ. The man is an Adonis. His hair is messy, black locks framing a face that looks sculpted from granite. He’s wearing a black sweater with the sleeves shoved up to the elbows and he looks at Magnus with a little smile, warm and inviting with a hint of tempered curiosity.
“Can I help you?”
Magnus can’t help but give him another once over as he starts, “I hope so, darling. I was supposed to meet a friend at Adega but the GPS dumped me out here-- though, obviously, this is a charming bookstore and not a Mediterranean restaurant.”
That smile grows into a grin as the man chuckles. “That happens more than you’d think. Our street addresses are only one number apart and a lot of people turn up here looking for tapas.” He points in a general direction. “You actually want the street next over.”
Magnus laughs a little. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s made that mistake.”
“I don’t mind,” the man says, eyes dropping to the book in Magnus’s hand. “Especially when it gets me more business.”
Holding the book up, Magnus waves it a little. “I saw this when I was looking for someone and couldn’t resist. She’s one of my favorite authors and I haven’t had the chance to read this one yet.”
He follows the man as he heads towards the stairs, appreciating the view as they start back down the the first floor. He’s only broken out of his reverie by the man throwing a sheepish question over his shoulder.
“You weren’t waiting long, were you? I’m sorry no one was down here when you came in. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to come upstairs-- there’s usually a lull around this time and my staff are on lunch.”
Waving the apologetic tone away, Magnus follows him as they make their way to the register. He stops in front of the antique desk that’s been retrofitted as the man moves to the other side. Laying the book down between them, Magnus looks up, tilts his head, considering.
“Not at all,” he says easily. “I’m fond of independent bookstores and it’s always a treat to find something new. I’m a big fan of unexpected surprises.”
He’s treated to that warm, slightly breathless laugh again as he hands over his credit card. “In that case, thank you for your patronage.”
Raising a brow-- both at the quip and at his ratcheting interest-- Magnus replies, “You’re more than welcome. . .” he trails off, inviting the stranger to share his name after seeing no nametag.
“Alec,” the man says, arching his own brow at Magnus’s forwardness.
“Alec,” Magnus repeats, savoring the syllables. “Short for Alexander?”
With a droll look, Alec says, “Yeah but no one calls me that.”
“What a shame,” Magnus murmurs, accepting the bag Alec slides to his side of the counter. It looks sturdy in a rich navy blue, the name of the store and date of establishment in the same swirling script in a bright yet understated silver.
He’s signing his name with a bit more flair than usual when Alec asks, “So, I take it you’re a big reader?”
“Oh, I love to read,” Magnus replies airily. “My mother used to take me to our local bookstore on the weekends when I was a child and I try to read a book a week for pleasure. Doesn’t always work out, but that’s the goal,” he ends with a resigned shrug.
Leaning a hip against the counter, Alec smiles at him. It’s easy, a current of warmth through it, though it’s the least bit shy. The combination has Magnus enthralled.
“Well, I hope to see you again sometime.”
Magnus picks up the bag, taking a step backwards to the door. His eyes run over Alec one more time before their eyes meet and he winks.
“Oh, I think I might turn out to be a regular customer, Alexander.”
He turns on his heel but not before he sees the start of an absolutely adorable blush on Alec’s face. He walks out without a backwards glance. Once he’s on the sidewalk, he throws a cursory look to both sides of the street before crossing.
He walks a block over and as soon as he turns the corner, he sees the restaurant. Checking his watch, he’s relieved to see that he’s less than ten minutes late. Hopefully, Ragnor won’t be too insufferable about it.
He walks in, bypassing the hostess. It’s late for lunch and the place is mostly empty. Ragnor is easily visible at a table, reading over the menu. As Magnus approaches him, Ragnor doesn’t look up.
“Had I known how cavalierly you were going to treat our lunches, I never would have agreed to meet,” Ragnor says, still refusing to acknowledge Magnus.
Rolling his eyes, Magnus slides the chair across from him out, relaxing against it as he sets his purchase neatly on the floor.
“I should have known,” Ragnor says, turning his menu over. “I’m no competition for a shopping spree.”
Magnus picks up his own menu, looking over the drinks as he absently replies, “Oh, shut it. Google Maps failed me and I ended up at this charming little bookstore. I had to ask an employee for help and bought a book. You’re lucky I showed up at all after being helped by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome incarnate.”
“Thirsting after bookworms, are we?”
Magnus sighs, a little dreamily, as he reads the day’s specials. “You know I love an intelligent man. I bet Alexander could hold his own.”
At that, Ragnor looks up. “Alexander? Alec?”
Magnus looks up to, sees Ragnor looking a mix of surprised and confused. “Yes? I take it you know him?”
“Of course I know him. We went to law school together. He graduated at the top of the class and, from what I hear, was a shark in the courtroom for a few years. He was on the fast track to make partner at his parents’ firm, surpassing everyone’s expectations. Then all of a sudden, he left his cozy corner office and opened a little bookstore in Brooklyn. I can’t believe you coincidentally ended up in his shop.”
Magnus holds up a hand, processing the fount of information he’s just been given. “You’re telling me that the man who just blushed at my almost appallingly obvious flirting was a Lightwood? Of the New York Lightwoods? The heir to one of the oldest families in the state?”
“What else would you think when you saw Lightwood Books emblazoned on the storefront?” Ragnor’s voice is dry as seven hells and twice as incredulous.
“How was I to know that golden boy had abandoned his family’s wealth and influence to open a cozy little neighborhood bookstore?”
“It’s just one of those things you know, Bane,” Ragnor says, voice scathing. “You run in similarly elevated circles. It was hot gossip when it happened.”
Magnus shrugs at that. “You know I barely slept a few years ago. That was right when my company started taking off and every waking thought was centered on not filing bankruptcy.”
“You have assistants for these kinds of things,” Ragnor says.
Magnus doesn’t deign to reply and the waitress comes over in the next second to take their orders. They pass a lovely hour in the fall afternoon. More than once, Magnus catches himself staring out the window, watching colorful leaves rustle in the breeze.
It’s not often that he has these pockets of time to just be himself. He has a multi-million dollar business that requires constant love and attention. He’s pulled in a dozen directions at any given moment and sometimes he thinks that all he does is eat, sleep, and drink his company. He’s always Bane, CEO, instead of simply Magnus.
He has family dinners on Sundays, though. He has these weekly lunches with Ragnor or Raphael. Today, he had a handful of minutes with an intriguing stranger. He wasn’t thinking about stocks or advertising or his never-ending email queue with Alec. No, Lightwood Books had let his mind calm. There’d been nothing to think about except the quiet, cozy charm of the store and the laid-back mystery of its apparent owner.
Magnus settles back in his chair as the waitress sets down dessert. Distantly, he knows that he’ll be visiting Lightwood Books again very soon.