Lifting their joined hands, he kissed the back of Magnus', smiling at his husband's words. For some reason he was the one who could cause Magnus to react in ways that he hadn't in a long time. He couldn't help being proud of the thought even if he didn't know why whatever he'd done had been such an achievement. "They're obvious to someone who knows you." Alec could usually pick up when he'd had an effect on his husband or the strange moods that suddenly seemed to overtake Magnus. He didn't always know the causes of the faint blushes or the thoughts that seemed to pull Magnus from him, but he could easily recognize the signs.

Fighting back a chuckle, he tried to look serious. "It would. We'd have to go home early so we could rescue your outfit."

The thought of knowing different languages didn't frighten him. Not on the surface at least. His education had been diverse. It wasn't something to worry over except the fact that he didn't know why he'd learned lessons in Latin or stayed up late at night reading adventure stories to a terrified boy he only half-remembered.

What did frighten him was the mention of the dark language. Instinctively, Alec knew that he would understand it if Magnus spoke it. "I think I know it too," he admitted, his voice just as quiet as Magnus'. "It's dangerous." That he knew as easily as he'd known he loved Magnus when he saw him the first time outside the hospital. "Not something that should be spoken when you aren't safe behind wards."