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Near the end of an early-morning Professional Development meeting, Izzy stood up, clipboard in hand, drawing the attention of the library. Tired teachers clutching mugs of coffee like lifelines shifted in their seats and brought their attention to Izzy, the high school’s drama teacher. After enduring forty-five mind-numbing minutes of listening to an explanation of how to successfully implement Google Docs into their classrooms, anything was a welcome distraction, up to and including Izzy.
“Hello, everyone,” Izzy began, smiling at her colleges. Alec made sure to throw her an extra grin, to show he was paying attention. She’d strangle him if he didn’t, he knew.
“Thanks for attending this morning—I know it’s early, but I just need a minute of your time. Before we let you go for your team meetings, we need to talk about the fall musical.”
That made Alec raise his eyebrows. It was unusual that Izzy would make any kind of announcement about the drama department’s projects. Mostly, the faculty found out about their school’s musical when the kids did—after the casting list went up.
“As you know, these past few years have been great as far as our drama department is concerned. We’re proud to be putting on such high-quality, diverse productions with such talented kids.” With a smile, she added, “and participation is as at an all-time high.”
Alec had to smile at that—the participation bump was entirely Izzy’s doing, who took into account the kinds of shows kids actually wanted to put on. Then the smile left her face and she coughed lightly. “However, we have gotten some….concerns, both from the administration and the parents of some of our students.”
Alec’s eyes flickered over to the side of the room, where Maryse Lightwood was standing, listening intently—and stoically. His mother, superintendent of the district, was just the kind of person to complain about the drama program’s choices, even though her own daughter was the one in charge. Looking pained, Izzy continued, “several of our past productions have included gay or lesbian characters, portrayed by students. I’m proud of our kids for being willing and professional in their portrayal of such characters, and I believe our shows are better for it. Unfortunately, the number of complaints from parents means that something has to change. I got this news after purchasing the rights to this year’s musical, 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. There are two small parts of the show, a pair of gay fathers to one of the main characters. We can’t afford to buy the rights to another show and this particular production comes with the clause that we are not allowed to drastically alter the script—they’re even insisting we reserve two seats of each performance for company representatives to attend, just to ensure that very clause.”
Alec frowned, and beside him, so did Magnus. They glanced at each other, sharing a silent question. What, exactly, were they supposed to do, then? Not put on a show at all?
Izzy hugged the clipboard to her stomach, looking uncomfortable with the attention on her for the first time in her life.
“So, after discussions with the administration, we have come to a compromise: instead of casting students in any of the ‘gay’ roles, we are asking for teachers to fill the roles. We’re not looking to hold auditions or anything—we’re going to keep this as low-key and drama-free as possible. The parts are only on stage for a few minutes, one song and maybe one or two more scenes total. If anyone is interested, please let me know. I’d like to get this sorted out before I open auditions to the students.”
She smiled briefly, sitting down. “That’s all. Thank you.”
Maryse took her place in front of the faculty. “Please split into your content teams and use the next half-hour for coordination and planning. Thanks for your hard work this morning.”
Among the buzz and chatter of teachers moving around, Magnus grabbed Alec’s sleeve.
“So obviously, I’m doing this,” he said quietly. Alec huffed out a laugh, matching his volume.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” he teased.
Magnus rolled his eyes with a smile of his own. “Would you care to join me?”
Alec hesitated, biting his lip. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly theatrical, Magnus.”
“Me and Chairman both know that’s false,” Magnus said wryly. Alec shook his head.
“Yeah, okay,” he allowed. He dropped his voice even further. “But…I don’t know. Is it a good idea? I mean, we’re not exactly….”
Innocently, Magnus said, “Not what? Friends? Colleges? Everyone here knows that we are. Friends do theatre together all the time, Alexander.”
“But they don’t know what we are,” Alec muttered. He was glad they were near the back of the quickly-emptying library and that it wasn’t an unusual sight for the two English teachers to chat with each other after PD concluded.
Magnus said, “I understand why you don’t want to come out. I’m happy to stay in the closet as long as you need me to. But even if we weren’t…what we are, as you said, this would still be a good thing to do. For the students. I’d rather you and I step in, rather than, say, Simon or someone equally overbearing in his ally-ship.”
Alec closed his eyes with a wince. Yeah, thinking of watching Simon stumble his way through what he would surely assume to be a respectful portrayal of a gay man made him shudder a little.
“Alright. Don’t make me regret this,” Alec said. It wasn’t like he could refuse Magnus when he really wanted something, not with that look on his face. Magnus tugged on Alec’s sleeve cuff lightly, a smile in his eyes.
“Thank you, Alexander,” he said quietly, warmth clear in his tone. Alec brushed his fingers against his boyfriend’s wrist, then finished gathering up his notebook and laptop. He and Magnus tailed Isabelle out into the hallway.
“Hey,” she said, clapping on a hand on each of their shoulders. “God, that sucked, but at least it’s over. We’re going to make the best of a shitty situation. At least, I hope so.”
“We’ll do it,” Magnus said firmly. “You’ve found your gay dads.”
“What?” Izzy asked, eyes wide. She whirled to Alec. “You…you agreed to this? Mr. ‘I Don’t Do Improv’?”
Alec nodded solemnly, fighting back a smile at his sister’s obvious delight. She squealed and squeezed Alec and Magnus in a quick but brutal hug.
“Oh thank god. I was worried I would have to find someone before Simon offered his services. Sweet as he is, I literally cannot handle his energy on my stage.”
“He’d be too busy directing the pit anyway,” Magnus said. Izzy shook her head.
“He would have found a way, I swear. Anyway, thank you two so much. I’ll need to see you after or before school to talk about the parts and when you’re going to practice.”
“You got it,” Alec said. He glanced at his watch. “But we really need to get to our team meeting.”
“Of course! Thanks again, guys!” Izzy left them with a blinding smile and a quiet squeal of delight.
Magnus and Alec walked to the English hall, close enough together that their arms bumped every few steps. Alec couldn’t believe that Magnus had talked him into this so easily. Though, looking at the bounce in his boyfriend’s step, Alec knew he made the right choice.
It was going to be weird to play lovers in a play when they spent a considerable amount of energy pretending not to be lovers in real life.
But it would be fine. Probably.
—
Two weeks later, auditions had concluded and Izzy had stapled the show announcement and cast list in the conjunction of English/art hallway during homeroom on a Friday morning. Alec leaned against his doorjamb, letting three of his homeroom students fight their way into the crowded hallway to get a glimpse of the announcement board. Students jockeyed with each other to get to the front, chattering and taking turns signing next to their names to show they’d accepted their part. From across the hall, Magnus caught his eye and grinned, which Alec returned quickly, then dropped his eyes back to the swarm of kids. Once the flood of students had ebbed to a trickle, he calmly walked over to the cast list and added his own signature on the line that said “Dan Schwartz: A. Lightwood”. He silently handed the pen to Magnus, who signed next to “Carl Grubenierre: M. Bane” on the next line down. Then, without a word, they both went back to their respective classrooms.
—
That afternoon, after the last bell, Magnus stopped by Alec’s room, which was blissfully empty of students after a long day.
“Shall we?” he asked, holding out a hand. Alec nodded and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to his lips for a quick kiss. He dropped it just as quickly, but Magnus didn’t seem to mind, just humming to himself in apparent satisfaction.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Hmm. I’m thinking about how we get to act like a couple on stage. Makes a nice change.”
Alec ducked his head, covering the action by rooting around in his desk for his copy of the script. Undeterred, Magnus continued, “and we’re going to sing and dance together! You know, if it wasn’t so homophobic of them, I’d almost thank those pushy parents for giving me this gift.”
“You haven’t seen my dancing yet,” Alec joked.
Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Anytime you’d like to demonstrate at home, let me know. I could use a laugh after a long day.”
Alec rolled his eyes and stood up, throwing some papers in his bag to bring home and grade. Right now, they had a mandatory meeting with the cast, crew, and pit of the musical. Izzy would kill them if they were late, but Alec wasn’t overly interested in getting to the choir room early. Instead, they slipped in right before 4:00, when Izzy called the meeting to order.
At the insistence of the administration, the drama department drew as little of attention as they could to the casting of Alec and Magnus. Typically, the students’ shows were just that: for and by the students. Izzy had double-and-triple cast students when they were short on actors rather than cast a faculty member, though she hadn’t had to do that in a few years, due to the increased popularity of the drama program. It was certainly a breach in tradition to have not one, but two, teachers in the students’ show. Magnus and Alec took seats next to Simon, the band teacher and conductor of the pit, hoping that they wouldn’t look out of place among the small army of students that it took to put on a musical. Thankfully, no one seemed to pay too much mind to them.
Izzy went through her usual welcome-thank-you-we’re-going-to-put-on-a-great-show-this-year speech, complete with the insistence that there were no small roles in any production and that really, if you thought about it, the chorus was just as vital as the lead.
“In a minute, we’re going to split into groups: cast, you’ll meet in here to do our first read-through. Music rehearsals start tomorrow, so just skip over the songs for now. I’ll be there in a minute to answer any questions. Pit, meet with Mr. Lewis to get your sheet music. Crew, Ms. Fray will show you around backstage and get you acquainted with the materials you’ll be using to build the set. Whenever your group is done, you’re free to go. Just make sure to grab a rehearsal calendar and a CD of music before you leave. Alright, be free, my children!”
Magnus and Alec hung back while students meandered to their correct groupings. They joined the loose circle of cast students, all clutching brand-new scripts and whispering excitedly. Izzy came over and called them to attention.
“Let’s go around the circle. Say your name, your grade, and what part you are playing. Your cast is like your family, so it’s important you all know each other.”
Alec knew most of the kids in the group. As the freshman/sophomore English teacher, he caught nearly all the kids in the school at one point or another. Magnus was less lucky since he only taught juniors and seniors, but he was quick with faces and names, so Alec didn’t bother worrying about him. Instead, he carefully noted the names of each student in his script to correspond with their part. His and Magnus’ fictional daughter, called Logainne "Schwarzy" SchwartzandGrubenierre by the script, was to be played by Madzie Loss. That surprised Alec somewhat. As a freshman who had skipped two grades, Madzie was much younger than her fellow leads, and while she looked nervous, she seemed excited and up to the task. Her character was also supposed to be younger than her peers, which meant that Izzy’s casting was on point as usual. Eventually, the circle got around to Alec.
“Hello everyone,” he said, “I’m Mr. Lightwood. I will be playing Dan Schwartz, Schwarzy’s dad.”
“And I’m Mr. Bane. I’m playing Carl Grubenierre, Schwarzy’s other dad.”
Whispers and giggles erupted in the circle. Easily enough ignored, Alec reasoned, the back of his neck prickling with slight embarrassment. One of the other students—a chorus member who hadn’t introduced himself yet—said, “how come it’s you guys and not students?”
Izzy cut in, “the part works better with adults, rather than students.”
“The other adult characters are played by students,” that same student said pointedly. Izzy frowned. Magnus said, “some parents are uncomfortable with students playing gay characters. My parents, however, couldn’t care less, so I took the role. Mr. Lightwood here, though, he lost a bet.”
That made the kids laugh and the circle went on. Izzy threw a grateful look at Magnus, who nodded back. Alec bumped his shoulder against Magnus’.
—
When they got home that night, Alec wasted no time in pressing Magnus against the closed door.
“What’s going on?” Magnus asked, looking not at all concerned by this turn of events.
“I lost a bet, huh? You know there’s going to be follow-up questions on that comment, Mr. Bane.”
“And that means you get to man-handle me in my own home because….?”
“Because I want to make the ridiculous story you’re bound to come up with worth it,” Alec said, then he kissed Magnus firmly. They made out against the door for a few wonderful moments, until they were interrupted by a small, furry head butting against Alec’s shin and loudly demanding attention. Magnus cooed and scooped up the cat. He spared one more slow kiss for Alec, then abandoned him to get Chairman Meow his supper.
“I’m looking forward to this, actually,” Alec said, dropping their coats off in the hall closet.
“Oh?” Magnus called from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Alec admitted. “Izzy had been begging me to get involved in her theatre projects since junior high. And Madzie is a sweet kid. It’ll be fun to work with her. Plus, we had the kids laughing just in the first read-through. If we can make high schoolers laugh, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“There never was,” Magnus said, coming over to wrap his arms around Alec from behind. They spent most of their time together at school, unable to touch in a meaningful way, and they were both a little clingy once they got home. He added, “unless you have stage fright. You don’t, do you, darling?”
Alec turned so he could hug Magnus back. “I might have a tiny bit of stage fright. But I’ll be alright. You’ll be right there with me, after all.”
“You bet I will. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
—
Really, for all the complaining Izzy did about her job, Alec didn’t find his role too stressful. He and Magnus had a couple of short scenes and a single song to worry about, so it wasn’t a huge time commitment. Izzy liked to divide and conquer her productions, so Alec rarely saw most of the cast outside of Madzie and Magnus. The chorus would learn their part of Madzie’s song, “Woe is Me”, separately, then they’d put it all together further down the line. Madzie, as he’d told Magnus, was a dream to work with. It was awkward, at first, to channel his inner flamboyant gay dad. He’d spent years learning to repress that very thing that purposefully bringing it out into the open was a little more than intimidating. Magnus had no such qualms, and seeing his confidence made it easier on Alec. Izzy suggested they tone down Alec’s character to make it more natural for Alec while increasing the comedic potential between the two dads. It didn’t take much to make a difference—flatter, more sarcastic delivery on a few lines and a couple of dry glances at the audience made a world of difference, and he soon felt comfortable with his part. Unlike the dancing and singing, which Alec had to actually work at to make seem natural, he had no problem acting opposite Magnus. Izzy had left the blocking mostly up to Alec and Magnus, so they ended up inserting as much physical comedy as possible, which included some dumb gags, like when Alec slapped his ass or Magnus fussed with Alec’s hair as the two dads bickered with each other. Madzie always giggled at their antics and Alec had to repress some giggles himself when he and Magnus went through a lightning-fast “yoga routine” as part of Madzie’s song. A few of the poses, adapted from couple’s yoga, were slightly suggestive, but with the right attitude, they were more funny than inappropriate, especially when Madzie’s character interrupted them with an exasperated, “alright, enough already!” And Alec and Magnus’ characters would shoot to their feet, grinning sheepishly.
The more he practiced, the more Alec found joy in what they were doing. He could hardly remember the trepidation he’d felt when he’d first agreed to this.
After the last solo rehearsal before they’d start to include the chorus, Magnus sat on the edge of the stage with his legs dangling off it. Alec sat on one side of him and Madzie on the other.
“Great job, kiddo,” Magnus said, holding his hand out for a high-five. She gladly returned it, smiling. Alec knew Madzie to be a quiet kid in class, so he happy to see her gaining confidence through this role.
“Thanks, dad,” she said playfully. “You and Mr. Lightwood are really, really good. I’d almost believe you’re actually married.”
Magnus fake-gasped. “How dare you talk to your fathers that way!” He grinned to show no hard feelings. “Thanks, though. We’re working really hard. We want this show to be a success.”
Alec just gave Madzie a tight grin. She really hadn’t meant anything by the joke, but it crashed against his brain insistently. I’d almost believe you’re actually married.
He hadn’t really planned on coming out until absolutely necessary. Things were going well with Magnus—they’d talked about marriage before and it was something they both wanted. But Alec couldn’t do anything about that until he came out and that had been something he’d been struggling with for a while. Magnus didn’t mind that he was in the closet, but it had been eating at Alec for a few months now. He loved Magnus and it felt dumb to keep that kind of joy all to himself. Even the risks of dating a fellow teacher under the watchful eye of his mother’s position in the school district didn’t seem like such a huge obstacle anymore. Maybe, a few years ago when Magnus had been a new teacher and their relationship was just starting to bloom, it made sense to stay in the closet. But it had been three years since then and Alec felt like he was treading water. He was starting to get tired of it.
Alec swallowed hard and said, as casually as he could, “I’ve asked him to marry me before but I could never get a straight answer out of him.”
He risked a glance over at the other two. Madzie just grinned like it was a continuation of the joke. Magnus blinked, tilting his head and regarding Alec carefully. After a moment, he said lightly, “Yeah, ‘straight’ isn’t exactly the word I would use.”
Alec snorted, as did Madzie.
“Maybe you should ask me again, just to see what happens,” Magnus said.
“Maybe I should,” Alec said. He squeezed Magnus’ knee and jumped down from the stage, determined to find Izzy before he did something impulsive, like ask Magnus to marry him in front of a student.
—
That night, in bed, Magnus rested his head on Alec’s chest and said, “are we going to talk about that, Mr. Lightwood?”
“Talk about what?”
“The thing you said at rehearsal.”
Alec hummed, pretending to think. “Which thing? Was it the thing about the music arrangement? I didn’t think it would too much to ask for another measure of filler between the second verse and the chorus but maybe—”
He was cut off when Magnus shoved his fingers against Alec’s mouth. Alec bit one of his fingers gently in retaliation but settled down, quiet again.
“No,” Magnus huffed. “I mean the marriage thing.”
“Oh, that thing. Yeah, we can talk about that if you want.”
Magnus remained quiet for a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was tentative.
“Is this….a proposal, Alexander?”
Alec snorted. “No. When I propose to you, you’ll know it.”
“Oh, I will, will I?”
Alec drew Magnus closer. “I’m going to do it right. Fancy ring, nice dinner, two dozen red roses, the works. I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Magnus said. “Not the dinner and the ring, but the promise.”
Alec glanced down at the man resting his head against Alec’s chest. Magnus looked hopeful, but still guarded, like he could hardly count on putting faith in that promise. It made something in Alec’s chest crumble. “Hey,” he said gently. “Get up here.”
Magnus scooted closer, turning so they were face to face. Alec kissed him until Magnus relaxed against his body. He pulled back, just a little. In the air they shared, he said, “You won’t have to wait long. I want to come out.”
“You do?” Magnus breathed, hope igniting in his expression.
“Yeah,” Alec said with a sigh. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. Seems kinda dumb to keep that a secret.”
“Oh, I do love you,” Magnus said fondly. He leaned down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Alec’s mouth.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Alec said firmly. “I want to come out for you.”
He paused, knowing he had a conflicted look on his face.
“What is it?” Magnus asked, concerned. Alec let a shit-eating grin slip out.
“Marrying you would be nice, but it’s really so kids will stop trying to set me up with Ms. Branwell,” he said. Magnus groaned and smacked him lightly on the chest.
“Stop! I thought there was something actually wrong.”
“Don’t know if you heard this, but it turns out I’m a pretty good actor,” Alec said smugly.
“Ridiculous man,” Magnus sighed. He snuggled back against Alec.
“Come on, to sleep, my love. We have that godawful early morning practice tomorrow.”
Alec groaned, “don’t remind me.”
He kissed the top of Magnus’ head and closed his eyes, smiling until he fell asleep.
—
That “godawful” morning practice was a tradition in the theatre department. Scheduling full runs on school days was nearly impossible since Izzy had to work around sports practices and after-school jobs for nearly fifty students, including the pit. Her solution was this: one mandatory Saturday practice, starting at six am and ending when she said it did. She’d bring donuts for the morning and pizza for lunch. Students would spread out in the auditorium unless they were supposed to be on stage. This would be the day they did the first full run-through, and supposedly it was going to be off-script (that never ended up happening, though). Izzy had roped Alec and Magnus into being student-wranglers, meaning one of them sat in the back half of the auditorium while the other took the front, and made sure that no one talked too loud or spilled anything gross. Alec brought along a cardboard box for a makeshift lost and found, which he knew would likely fill up quickly. He gave Magnus a quick kiss before they entered the building.
“It figures, the day I want to come out is the day that the only time we’re going to spend together is scripted, on stage.”
“There’s no rush on this, Alexander,” Magnus reminded him. “You just made this decision last night. Give it a minute, okay?”
“Fine,” Alec grumbled. He squeezed Magnus’ hand and they entered the school together, headed to the auditorium.
“Great, you’re here!” Izzy said, only sounding slightly manic. She had her hands full of props. Magnus and Alec both rushed forward to relieve her of her burdens.
“Put them backstage. There’s a prop table. Guard it with your life until Clary gets here to do it. Do not let any kids touch the props except the crew. And then only the ones Clary points out. The last thing we need right now is a missing prop.”
Alec bit his cheek to keep his laugh in check until Izzy dashed away.
“I didn’t know managing props was such a serious affair,” he muttered. Magnus waved the rubber chicken he was holding carelessly.
“My dear, everything in theatre is a serious affair,” he promised. “Now, let’s take care of this before your sister has an aneurism.”
They successfully guarded the props until a similarly-harried Clary came to take over. Then, they slipped into the auditorium and took their respective places in the sea of students, with Magnus in the back and Alec in the front. Izzy was running through the plan for the day, threatening violence on anyone who spilled soda or juice in her auditorium, and reminding them they had to stay till the end, even if they didn’t have any more scenes left.
Despite the early hour and the Saturday they were giving up, most of the cast seemed like they were having a good time. It didn’t go perfectly, but no one had expected it to. There was a lot of calling for lines and sneaking peeks at the script, but Alec couldn’t blame the kids for that—he still had to glance at his script occasionally, too. The singing and dancing was much rougher than the dialogue and blocking, but they still had plenty of time to practice. Since his role was relatively small, he focused on the kid-wrangling part of his job, rather than the acting. By the time he and Magnus made it on stage, he’d almost forgotten to be nervous. He could feel students’ eyes on him but ignored it in favor of supporting Madzie and Magnus’ hard work. The general low buzz of students half paying attention followed them through their scene, at least until the moment he slapped Magnus’ butt, after Alec had said, “don’t talk to me about stamina!”. Surprised silence went through the auditorium, followed by scattered, shocked laughter. Magnus took a moment to stifle his own laugh as he demanded, in his own line, “daddy conference. Now.”
They huddled together upstage, backs to the audience, while Madzie’s character went on with her scene. Buoyed by the audience's reaction, right before they froze in character, Alec slid his hand into Magnus’ back jeans pocket.
Well aware they were both mic’d, he wagged his eyebrows at Magnus, who mouthed a few choice words at him, torn between exasperated and amused.
They got another huge laugh in their next scene, during the suggestive yoga poses, and another during a verse concerning Schwarzy’s birth mother, who insisted that “life, and men, are hard”, complete with Magnus and Alec dramatically agreeing with that assessment. By the time Alec and Magnus took their seats, Alec was grinning. To think he had ignored Izzy all those years when she talked about what a rush performing theatre was—not that he would ever admit it to her. Magnus had one small scene a little later on that Alec wasn’t present for, so he got the pleasure of watching his boyfriend act without the pressure of being on stage himself. Magnus was a great actor, with or without Alec, and he worked so well with Madzie, even just in the thirty-second scene he was in.
Magnus sat down after his last scene and he and Alex exchanged a quick smile before focusing on their task of reigning in tired, bored high schoolers. The rest of the rehearsal had the decency to go smoothly. Around four o’clock, Izzy called the whole company to sit on the stage while she went through notes. She did general notes for the entire cast, then dismissed the chorus to give notes directly to the leads and supporting roles. Simon was holding a similar conference with his pit band and Clary with her stage crew. Madzie sat beside Alec, waiting patiently for her turn.
“You did great,” he whispered to her. “I bet Izzy—uh, Ms. Lightwood—won’t have any notes for you.”
“There’s always ways to improve,” Madzie whispered back. “But thanks. You and Mr. Bane were good, too. What did you do differently? Everyone laughed at something when you were upstage.”
Alec flushed. “Ad-libbed some physical comedy. Grabbed his butt,” he admitted.
Madzie laughed quietly. “Bet he loved that.”
“Sure did,” Magnus said lazily from her other side. That made Madzie laugh outright. In the front of the auditorium, Izzy snapped, “anything you’d like to share with us, Madzie?”
Madzie, properly chastised, shook her head quickly. When Izzy went back to her notes, Alec leaned over and said, none too quietly, “she didn’t mean to snap at you. Being mid-show always stresses her out.”
“Alec!” Izzy yelled. “I can and will kick you out of this rehearsal!”
Alec held his hands up in surrender and mimed locking his mouth as the cast tittered.
Izzy glared. “Since you interrupted, Mr. Lightwood, I need to speak with you and Mr. Bane after rehearsal.”
He threw her a thumbs-up, rather than risk her ire by speaking again. When he caught Magnus’ eye, he winked and got a wink in return.
—
Izzy made sure every last kid was out of the building before going in for the kill.
“So,” she said, hoisting herself up onto the edge of the stage and crossing her legs. “Anything you’d like to tell me, Alec? Magnus?”
When they didn’t reply right away, she said, “You know, I deal with this every year: actors who play romantically against each other deciding to give it a whirl in real life. Sometimes it makes their performance better, and sometimes it makes it worse. But either way, it hardly ever lasts and just makes things awkward after the last curtain falls. I expect it from high schoolers, but not from you,” she nodded at Magnus, “and especially not you, big brother,” directed to Alec.
“I think you’ve got the wrong impression, here,” Magnus said, amused. Izzy raised an eyebrow. “Really? So I just imagined Alec ad-libbing groping your ass in front of my students?”
“You certainly didn’t imagine it,” Magnus relented.
Alec said, “Izzy. Magnus and I are dating.”
“Yeah, you say that like I didn’t just accuse you of doing that exact thing.”
“No, I mean,” Alec said wrapping an arm around Magnus’ waist, “we’ve been dating. For the past three years.”
She glanced between them, her arms crossed. “You’re joking, right?” When neither responded, her arms fell to her sides. “You’re not joking?”
“We live together. Share custody of a cat. Last night, Alec told me he wants to propose soon.”
“What the fuck!” Izzy nearly shouted. Alec gave a very weak shake of jazz hands, trying to channel some of the confidence he’d felt on stage.
“Surprise?”
Izzy opened and closed her mouth for several seconds, words shocked right out of her for the first time in Alec’s memory. Finally, tearfully, she settled on, “Alec, if I wasn’t so happy for you, I’d smack you right now.”
“Please don’t, I’d hate for you to bruise his pretty face,” Magnus said. He offered his arms and Isabelle fell into them, hugging him tightly.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Oh my god, Alec, you’ve been dating Magnus? For three years? And I didn’t know? How….how is that possible?”
Alec stopped his sister out of Magnus’ arms and squeezed her fiercely.
“I’m sorry for keeping it from you,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t out to anyone. Hardly even to myself. And then I was scared it wasn’t going to work out with Magnus, so I didn’t want to say anything and then be embarrassed when he dumped me.”
“By the time he realized he wasn’t getting rid of me, it had been almost two years,” Magnus said, filling in their history. “And Maryse had just been hired as the superintendent. We didn’t want to give her a reason to fire me.”
“Wow,” Izzy said, voice choked with tears. “I mean….wow. You’re happy, though? Yeah?”
“Really happy,” Alec confirmed. Izzy hugged him hard enough to crush the air out of his lungs.
“Then you’re forgiven. And you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For giving you an excuse to come out, of course!” Izzy said. She wiped under her eyes with her thumb.
Magnus said, “Yeah, I suppose we could thank you for that one.”
Izzy’s eyes turned thoughtful and calculating. “Alec,” she said. “How would you like to give Mom a heart attack on opening night?”
—
Magnus was right when he said Alec should wait until he was ready to come out. With Isabelle’s scheme in place, he had a scheduled date to come out to their mother, and one that wouldn’t require an awkward conversation over dinner, as he had been planning on doing. Until then, he was enjoying the hustle and stress of putting together a production. As opening night drew closer, rehearsals grew longer and more stressful for everyone involved, except for Alec and Magnus, who had their small parts down pat and were honestly just having a blast “pretending” to be a couple. They’d started calling each other “darling” and “honey” in the hallways, to the delight of their students. There wasn’t a single kid taking an English class from Mr. Lightwood and Mr. Bane that didn’t know they were playing husbands in the school’s musical. There was something thrilling in being able to say, “Excuse me, class, I have to go ask my husband something,” when he had to pop over to Magnus’ to ask a question or borrow a stapler. He was equally delighted in the kisses Magnus playfully threw to him as they passed each other in the hallway or caught each other’s eyes from their respective rooms. Alec endured his students’ good-natured ribbing and teasing happily.
“It’s like a dress rehearsal for being married for real,” Alec said, during one evening rehearsal. Most of the cast was on stage and they were alone near the back of the auditorium. Magnus snuggled into his arm, halfway to taking a nap while they waited for their next cue in the gloom of the dark house.
“Mm, that does sound nice,” he agreed. “I like being able to be open around other people. Think how sappy we’re going to be when we’re actually out.”
“We don’t have too much longer to wait,” Alec said.
“Are you nervous?” Magnus asked. Alec sighed.
“Honestly? I’m more nervous about forgetting a line or messing up the choreography.”
“No matter what happens, I’ll be right there with you,” Magnus said, and Alec knew he wasn’t just talking about their performances.
He kissed Magnus’ hair and let him drift off to sleep.
—
The day before opening night, they did a full run-through during the school day: costumes, props, makeup, and all. Following tradition, it doubled as a dress rehearsal and a free matinee for the middle school. Their audience would only be there for the first act, both because two hours of watching a musical was a lot to ask of middle schoolers, and in hopes it would entice them and their families to return for the actual show the next day.
Nerves hit Alec as he was getting dressed. Most of the cast was dressing and getting makeup done in the bathrooms, but he’d opted to sneak to the teacher’s bathroom in the lounge. Magnus had joined him, armed with eyeliner and pancake foundation. Alec noticed his hand trembling slightly as he held up the eyeliner.
“Nervous?” he asked. Magnus nodded.
“But that’s part of the fun,” he added with a smile. “It’ll vanish when we get on stage.”
“I hope you’re right. I’m about to throw up.”
Magnus kissed him lightly, careful not to smudge his lipstick.
“No, you aren’t.”
The conviction in his voice made Alec feel slightly better. He nodded firmly and closed his eyes.
“Alright. Eyeliner. Do it.”
“You look so pretty with makeup on,” Magnus murmured as he worked. “I wish you’d wear it more often.”
“It looks better on you,” Alec said, truthfully. He hesitated. “But if you wanted to do my makeup again…..I’d let you.”
“Yes,” Magnus said instantly. He touched Alec’s elbow to let him know he was done working and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. Alec grabbed a comb for his own hair, which was supposed to be tightly combed down, according to Izzy’s instructions. Then he shrugged into a purposefully-too-big brown suit and fiddled with a hideous clip-on tie. Magnus’ own costume was more in line with the man’s own style: a loudly-patterned button-down shirt and fitted slacks, paired with a vest and a twinky bow-tie that was not in his usual wardrobe but that Alec thought was kind of charming, in a nerdy way. Or maybe he just loved the man too much to be put off by a bad tie.
“Alright,” Magnus said, glancing at his watch. “We need to get going.”
He stepped up and adjusted Alec’s tie. “You ready to face the most terrifying audience anyone can ever imagine?”
Alec frowned. “Middle schoolers? What’s wrong with middle schoolers?”
Magnus regarded Alec curiously. “You were popular in middle school, weren’t you?”
“I—I guess?”
“That explains it. Alec, when you are not a handsome, athletic white boy, middle school is a horrible experience. Middle schoolers are cruel, and you can quote me on that.”
Alec looked at Magnus, wide-eyed. “Well, now I’m nervous all over again.”
Magnus laughed. “Good. We’re in it together, then.”
—
The dress rehearsal was more or less a disaster, but Izzy had assured him it was a rite of passage and also tradition and also good luck. It meant the kids would be more alert for the actual performance, which usually made it better. Any major mishaps could work themselves out during the matinee and be fixed before opening curtain. Alec was too busy reassuring and consoling his students, who were properly freaked out after a missed cue that meant a scene stalled on stage for a full minute, to be worried about his own performance. It hadn’t been perfect, but he knew the real performance would go just fine, so he focused on other things. He scrambled through Friday, giving a lot of free reading and writing time to his students, just waiting for the day to be over. Magnus went in the opposite direction, introducing a new unit with a ton of activities, to keep himself and his students occupied during the stressful last day. They met for lunch at midday and carefully talked about anything but the show.
“We need the brain-time off,” Magnus insisted, and broke out the big guns: cute cat videos on his phone.
He and Alec were squished together behind Alec’s desk, laughing at one particularly chunky cat forcing himself into a too-small box, when a small troupe of the musical kids came in, clutching food trays or lunch boxes.
“Hey,” Alec said, still chuckling, “what are you guys doing here?”
Madzie, leading the group, shrugged. “You’re our show dads.”
“Sure are,” Magnus agreed. “You guys nervous about tonight?”
Most of the dozen or so kids nodded, though some looked sheepish about it. Alec gestured at the room. “Take a seat. Magnus, hook your phone up to the projector.”
“What are you doing?” One of the students asked.
Alec shrugged. “Distracting you. We’re your dads. Dads love sharing dumb internet videos.”
After a few videos, some of the kids started suggesting their own to show. Alec and Magnus settled in the back of their room with their lunches, seated on top of the desks, as was their sacred right as teachers. If any of the students noticed them holding hands, no one bothered to call them out on it. Madzie certainly noticed when she turned to check the time on the wall clock, but she just gave them a blinding smile and turned back to her classmates.
—
Unlike dress rehearsal, Magnus and Alec arrived at the school in costume, with their makeup already done. Izzy had asked them to come early to help her keep control of the backstage area. Alec was quickly put on prop duty, as half of the props had somehow managed to escape their labeled sections on the prop table, while Magnus was claimed by panicked boys who had never worn makeup before and didn’t trust their female classmates to do it without poking out their eyes. Their duties kept them busy until forty minutes to curtain, when the whole cast gathered in the choir room to play warm-up games. Vocal warm-ups would come after that, then the start of the show. Alec had never played improv games before, but he did his best, conscious that he was playing against his students. He did okay at some, failed at others, but utterly dominated at a game in which two people have a conversation through nothing but questions. He and Magnus went back and forth for almost two minutes before Izzy waved them off the staging area to let some others try it. It wasn’t really fair to the others, Alec thought, because he and Magnus knew each other well enough that anticipating the other’s response meant they’d had enough time to think of questions to keep the conversation going. Still, he reasoned, couple perks had to be worth something.
Before the next game could get started, a knock came at the door. Alec looked over and his stomach dropped. His mother was standing there, dressed as though she were going to an opera instead of a high school production of a comedy musical. She jerked her head toward the door and Alec nodded. He snuck out as quietly as possible and shut the door behind him.
“Mom,” he said, inclining his head. He was acutely aware of the ugliness of his costume and how thick his makeup was applied.
“Alec,” she responded. “Izzy didn’t tell me you were part of the show.”
Alec managed a cough. “She didn’t? She probably thought I’d mention it.”
“Yes. I can’t help but notice that you didn’t mention it.”
Alec folded his arms, hating how all the ease he’d picked up over the past few weeks fell away, replaced by nerves.
“It’s not a big deal. Magnus and I are only on stage for, like five minutes total.”
“Alec,” Maryse sighed. “When I told Izzy to cast teachers in those roles, I didn’t mean you.”
“Why not?” Alec said, bristling.
Maryse threw up her hands. “Because it’s ridiculous! You’re going to look like an idiot. People will think you’re….like that.”
Something like a wall slammed down in Alec’s heart. He felt his expression go stoic. There was no time to deal with this, not when curtain was in less than half an hour. Sternly, he said, “no matter how I look, Mother, I’m proud to be part of this production. My students have worked so hard. I would gladly make myself look like a fool if it means these kids get to shine—but I won’t, because I like the role I’m playing, and the person I’m playing it with.”
Maryse’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything, arms crossed. Alec gestured past her, to the doors leading out to the commons area.
“I’m sorry, but there are no audience members allowed backstage. The show will be beginning shortly, so you should find your seat.”
“We’re going to have a talk after this, Alec,” Maryse said, like it was a threat.
Alec rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’m sure we will.”
Then he went back in the choir room, shutting Maryse out in the hall, rejoining the cast, who had since moved on to vocal warm-ups. This time he didn’t bother to hide it when he slipped his hand into Magnus’.
—
25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee was an unusual musical in that it required a lot of audience participation, calling audience members up on stage as contestants in the bee. Audience members got stupidly hard words, and the actors had practiced what to do if the audience members got it wrong, got it right, were too nervous to speak, or started talking back. Alec probably should have seen it coming when Maryse was called up to participate—she was the superintendent, and school productions loved to include the administration when possible, probably in an effort to show them their money was going toward something worthwhile.
When given the word “alkekengi,” she didn’t even hesitate before spelling it perfectly. She also knocked “haruspex” and “kinnikinnick” out of the park, and then, when pitched “gnocchi”, they didn’t even let her get more than a letter into it before hitting the bell to indicate a wrong answer. Alec scoffed to himself. Of course his mother would make them hit the three-word limit and send her off to save the show. It probably didn’t even occur to her that getting the word wrong would add to the comedy of the show. The chorus sang her off stage with the Goodbye Song and Alec relaxed to watch the show unfold. Because of all the audience participation, Izzy thought it would be funny if Alec and Magnus jumped on stage from the audience as well, like secret actors. When Madzie’s character got called up to spell her word, the lights dimmed and a spot landed on Magnus as he pulled Alec to his feet and dragged him to the stage. They scrambled up, to the laughs and cheers of the audience. Alec let the energy and bright lights and Magnus’ grin sweep him into the scene. They got laugh after laugh, especially for the butt-grab and yoga moments, just as Alec knew they would. They also got some wolf whistles, which he didn’t expect but probably should have. He and Magnus bickered, flirted, fussed over their “daughter”, nailing their lines and choreography. Alec knew they would be fine, but he didn’t expect them to be great, to be so full of energy and joy, just playing off each other. He was having such a good time, he almost didn’t register the show flying by. Before he could catch his breath, it was time for curtain call. The chorus went first, then the secondary leads, gathering applause with each bow. Of the secondary leads, Alec and Magnus went last, skipping on stage, holding hands. They got a burst of cheers and whistles among the applause. They strode to center stage, a spotlight throwing them into un-ignorable relief. For this one moment, Alec and Magnus had every eye in the house on them. They lifted their clasped hands and did a full bow. They straightened up a second later.
“Ready?” Magnus asked. Alec nodded sharply, then deliberately, Alec placed his hand behind Magnus’ neck, the other on the small of his back, and pulled Magnus into a deep dip. He kissed him, firmly, solidly, like he meant business. Magnus’ leg came up to brace against him for balance, and he put his arms around Alec’s neck. From behind him, the cast burst into cheers, and cheers increased from the audience. There was some muttering and gasping, too, of course, but Alec was riding too high on adrenaline to care. After three seconds—too long to ignore, not long enough to be inappropriate—he stood up, helping Magnus get his balance again. He was laughing, half in relief, half in fear of what his mother was going to do to him when she got her hands on him. Magnus was laughing, too. He pumped a fist in the air like he was celebrating a victory. They took one more bow and shuffled back to their place in the line, still holding hands. Alec was grinning hard enough to make his face hurt, but he couldn’t stop himself, even through the lead bows. They did a bow with the entire company, taking a moment to acknowledge the pit and lighting crews. Then, with a final bow, the curtain fell.
“Holy shit!” Madzie shouted, still clutching Alec’s other hand. She flushed. “I mean—that was awesome!”
Alec couldn’t do anything but laugh. He and Magnus were surrounded by students, all buzzing with energy after their almost-flawless performance and the unexpected addition to their bows.
“Mr. Lightwood! Are you actually dating Mr. Bane? For real?” one student shouted.
“It’s news to me if he isn’t!” Magnus shouted back. He threw his arms around Alec and hauled down for a kiss (on the cheek, which Alec appreciated. Making a statement was one thing, but making out in front of students he’d have to teach come Monday was something else entirely).
“Nice!” the student shouted at them. Alec took a moment to rest his forehead against Magnus’, uncaring of the eyes watching them.
“That…thank you,” he settled on.
“You never fail to amaze me, Alexander,” Magnus whispered back.
They pulled apart a second later as Izzy came crashing into the both of them.
“I’m so proud of you!” she shrieked. She turned to her students and said, “I’m so proud of all of you! You killed it out there! I can’t wait for tomorrow’s show. It’s going to be even better.”
A general shout of agreement swallowed up all the sound backstage. Izzy hooked an arm over Alec and Magnus’ shoulders and squished the sides of their faces against hers.
“Seriously. I’m so proud of you,” she said.
“I just wish Mom felt the same,” Alec admitted. Izzy made a sympathetic face.
“Yeah, well, if she has a problem, she can take it up with me.”
“Thanks,” Alec said simply, too full of emotion to say anything else. Izzy, who understood what he meant, patted his cheek and left to hype up her students some more. He and Magnus retreated to his classroom to change, a quiet space free of students or spectators. After they were dressed in casual street clothes, Magnus sat down on a desk and pulled out a pack of makeup wipes. “Want me to tackle your face?” he asked.
“In more ways than one,” Alec shot back.
Magnus grinned. “Down, boy. Wait until we home.”
Alec didn’t answer, just offered a grin and tilted his face to Magnus. Despite Magnus’ words, he didn’t wipe off Alec’s makeup. He kissed him instead, soft and intent.
“I would have waited for you forever,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you’re out, now. I’m glad to be out with you.”
“I love you,” Alec said fervently in response, leaning back into Magnus’ lips. He pulled back after a moment, grimacing. “…my face does feel gross, though.”
Magnus nodded sagely, holding up the forgotten wipe. “Stage makeup does not feel nearly as comfortable after the show is over.”
He took his time running the cloth over Alec’s face, getting off every smudge of makeup. Once Alec’s face was clean, he threw out the wipe and offered a new one to Alec. Magnus closed his eyes as Alec took Magnus’ chin in his hands and started removing his makeup, just as carefully. With half of Magnus’ face clean, a familiar knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Alec said, knowing exactly who was on the other side. Maryse stepped in, closing the door behind her. If she thought it was odd to walk in on her son removing another man’s makeup, she wisely didn’t comment.
“Alec,” she started, then stopped. Alec decided not to help her, continuing to carefully run the cloth over Magnus’ skin. His eyeliner, especially, was stubborn and he wanted to get it off without irritating Magnus’ sensitive skin.
“Alec,” Maryse said again. She sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Alec said. This moment had been coming for so long and now that it was here, he was….well, he was kind of over it. The night had gone beautifully, and no matter what Maryse had to say about it, she couldn’t ruin the moment he’d shared with Magnus.
“You know exactly what I mean,” she said.
“I don’t, actually,” Alec said calmly. “Do you mean that I’m gay? I tried to tell you when I was eighteen but you refused to listen. You told me to stop being silly. Or do you mean about Magnus? Because I can’t think of a single reason I would have told you about the man I love when you wouldn’t even accept that I love men.”
“Alec, I’m your mother,” Maryse said, but something in her voice sounded uncertain.
“You’re also my boss,” Alec said with a shrug. He tilted Magnus’ chin another centimeter and swiped gently at his left eye. “Doing alright?” he asked under his breath. Magnus reached up and latched onto his wrist. “Just fine, as long as you are, darling.”
“Just fine,” Alec repeated. Finally, he dropped the makeup wipe on the desk and turned his body to face his mother, still sitting on the desk.
“Mom, just so we’re clear: I’m gay. I have always been gay, even when I brought a girl to prom, even when I kissed her so you could get a nice picture. I am gay now and I will always be gay. This is my boyfriend and fellow teacher, Magnus Bane. We’ve been together for three years and I’m in love with him.” Alec thought about what Magnus had told Izzy when she found out, and couldn’t suppress his grin as he rattled off the list. “We live together. We have a cat named Chairman Meow. I’m going to propose soon, unless he beats me to the punch.”
“And I’m seriously considering it,” Magnus added. “As soon as I figure out your ring size.”
“Eleven,” Maryse said, just this side of soft. Magnus regarded her seriously, like he was studying a puzzle.
“I will….remember that,” he said, matching her tone.
“Okay,” Maryse said.
Alec glanced between them, not sure he was following.
Maryse said, “we have a family ring. It will need to be resized, I’m sure.”
Alec’s mouth fell open in surprise. She raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Well? Your ring size?”
“Nine,” Magnus answered slowly. She nodded.
“Well,” she said, as if that settled the entire conversation. She turned to Alec. “Your father will attend tomorrow’s performance. Max will be there as well. Perhaps we could have a family dinner on Sunday? After your last performance?”
“Can’t,” Magnus said quickly, looking regretful. “We have the wrap party to attend. However, next weekend, we have nothing planned.”
Alec looked between his mom and his boyfriend, still not sure he was actually understanding what was happening. Maryse, while not exactly smiling, looked composed, and said, “Next Sunday. Please do us the courtesy of not proposing until the entire family has met you, Magnus. That goes for you, too, Alec. Meeting the boyfriend is a lot less pressure on us than meeting the fiancé.”
“Uh, okay,” Alec said dumbly. He shot an incredulous look at Magnus, who gave a subtle shrug. Uncertainly, Alec added, “Thanks….Mom.”
“I am proud of you, Alec. You did a great job tonight,” Maryse said. She cleared her throat. “I should—find Isabelle. Congratulate her on a successful show.”
Alec nodded. She gave each of them a firm nod, turned, and left, shutting the door behind her.
Alec collapsed on the desk. “What the fuck just happened,” he said.
“I think that went okay,” Magus said. He trailed a hand through Alec’s hair, offering wordless comfort while Alec processed the previous five minutes.
“Wow,” he said finally. “I…I didn’t expect it to go that well.”
“I had no doubt,” Magnus said. Alec propped himself up on his elbows to squint at Magnus.
“Really?”
“No,” Magnus laughed. “Your mother is fucking terrifying. I was shaking in my boots the whole time.”
“That makes two of us,” Alec agreed. There had been so much tension in his muscles, he was surprised he hadn’t snapped like a rubber band.
“So,” Magnus said, pulling Alec off the desk and to his feet. “It seems we have plans for next Sunday.”
“Seems like it,” Alec agreed. Magnus grinned, something devilish that made Alec’s stomach swoop dangerously. He threaded their fingers together, swinging their clasped hands between them as they threw their bags over their shoulders and headed down the hallway to Alec’s car.
“That means we don’t have anything planned for Saturday, then,” Magnus said, faux-innocently.
“True,” Alec said slowly. Magnus simply hummed, letting the thought hang between them. He kept his face turned away from Alec, like the artwork on the art hall’s walls were masterpieces in a museum. They made their way to the faculty parking lot before Alec broke.
“Okay, what are you planning, Magnus?”
“Oh, nothing. I just thought it might be nice to go shopping.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. He pulled Magnus to a stop under the orange glow of a streetlight, lighting up the chilly night air.
“What kind of shopping?” he asked suspiciously. Finally, Magnus glanced over at him, mischief and affection shining on his face.
“Ring shopping,” he said simply. He tugged Alec a few steps forward by his hand, laughing, then dropped it and started running.
“Hey!” Alec shouted in surprise, chasing after Magnus to their car. He caught him just before Magnus got ahold of the car door, wrapping his arms around Magnus’ waist and yanking him back. Before Magnus could get away, Alec pushed him against the car door and kissed him.
“Ring shopping, huh?” he said while Magnus shook helplessly against him. “Big talk for a teacher. I bet there’s not a single ring in your price range, no matter where we look.”
“I’m gonna get you the ugliest ring ever,” Magnus choked out between bouts of laughter. “I swear I will.”
“And I swear I will marry you with it,” Alec threatened.
“Promise?” Magnus asked. He leaned in and stole the answer from Alec’s mouth.
“Yes,” Alec said when he was able to catch his breath again. Magnus pressed his hand against Alec’s chest, where Alec was sure he was feeling the thundering of his heart under his fingers. They were out in the open, where anyone could see them, and yet the pounding of Alec’s heart was from happiness and anticipation, not nervousness nor shame.
“I’m holding you to that,” Magnus said. “Now, let’s go home. Chairman Meow must be missing his dads by now.”
Magnus drove home, Alec’s hand holding his own. Alec fiddled with Magnus’ fingers, imagining how the Lightwood family ring would look on his hand. When Magnus finally shook his head fondly and tried to disentangle their fingers, Alec held on tighter. “Nope. You’re stuck with me now. You said so.”
“I did,” Magnus relented. He raised Alec’s hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against his knuckles. “And I meant it. I promise.”