As much as people liked to label him as a party person, a night owl who would be awake and going at it until long into the night, Magnus loved the morning. The golden rays, the still and quiet, the promise of a brand new day where the problems and arguments of yesterday can be washed away. Most of all, however, Magnus loved the way the soft beams of light lit up the angles of Alec’s face, how it caught in his hair and gave it an entirely new and ethereal hue, how it seemed to paint his soft snores into something more melodic. How it caught in Alec’s eyes and made them sparkle as he cracked them open, rubbing the sleep from one eye at a time.