Title: Do You See What I See?

Pairing: Malec (Magnus/Alec)

Rated: T (will change to M in much later chapters) Sorry, I like to draw the heavy romance out).

Genre: Romance/Adventure/Angst/Supernatural

Complete Summary: Alec Lightwood is your average run-of-the-mill Mundane, that is, until he accidentally stumbles through a certain Warlock's intricately constructed glamour. In a world where magical creatures are of myth and legend and wholly non-existent, The High Warlock of Brooklyn must act quickly in order to eradicate the threat: Alec, the first Mundane in nearly 250 years to have the Sight. However, neither of them intended to get sidetracked. An AU Mundane!Alec Malec fic!

A/N: I'm VERY NEW in writing for this fandom, even though I've been following MI since the first year it was published.

This is my first Malec fic, let alone my first MI fic—be gentle with me. I'm so excited because I'm actually writing for AN EFFING CANON PAIRING. WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN—usually I have to slash my characters and ruin the series for other people (like HTTYD for instance –facepalm-).

I'm so happy. Anyway, please enjoy my little contribution to the Malec universe.



There was an audible warble that filtered through the speaker, digitized and clipped and entirely irritating. A muffled sigh resounded from the lanky figure flanked about a wine colored couch, tapping the pads of his spindly fingers along the plush material, before raising himself and languidly strolling towards the buzzer. He pressed a willowy digit to the contraption.

"I'm not taking any calls. Leave." The voice was lucid and crisp, yet sporting a sultry undertone. A measurable silence spanned, and the figure within the flat flanked away from the speaker, an irritated hunch to his shoulders.

"It's me," the buzzer chortled, the voice fading in and out through the speaker. "Let me up."

"Me? Who's me? Being vague isn't a quality I take to."

A sigh emitted from the buzzer, along with a staticy mess of noise before the ringer was breached yet again. "Lans."

"Oh, then why didn't you say so, honey? Is it time already?"

"Do you have to say it like that?"

Lans backed away from the buzzer when he heard a perceptible click resonate from the door beside him. Placing a hand to the brass door handle, he gently tugged it open and stepped inside. He looked about him, scanning the base of the premise before trailing violet-colored eyes up the looming staircase. Some things were familiar, like the lavishly decorated walls that sported a generous amount of abstract paintings and questionable looking artifacts, but there were some things that were different compared to the last time he was here. For one, the staircase hadn't been that tall, and two, there was a window situated along the corridor that peered out into the streets below, when it should have been physically impossible for it to do so. For all he knew, there were only rooms behind those walls, not the world outside.

Of course, he had forgotten whose flat he was in.

Before clambering up the staircase, Lans tensed his shoulders and tugged at the recesses of his thoughts, kneading and pulling at the malleable bits of magic concealing him. In an instant, the neatly styled tufts of blond hair he'd been sporting were gone, replaced with willowy wisps of aquamarine strands. There were also other parts of his body that morphed with the stripping of his glamour, such as his eyes, skin, fingers, back and other prohibited places, but doting on them would take too much of his time, not to mention the precious time of his host upstairs. Sprouting a pair of iridescent wings, vein-strewn and gleaming in different shades of color, Lans soared up the staircase.