Shadowhunters didn't tend to celebrate many holidays. Their celebrations tended to be reserved for Christmas, weddings, births and battles won. Alec knew about Thanksgiving and he'd lived in New York long enough to have chased a demon through the city's big parade but the Lightwoods had never been the type to sit around the table with a bunch of food on the table, talking and enjoying togetherness.

Alec assumed that any attempts at that would have made for a quiet dinner. Isabelle would try but Alec wouldn't want to talk and Alec couldn't imagine his parents trying to engage them past some very superficial small talk.

Maybe this thing wouldn't be quite so cold and distant. Maybe there'd actually be talking. Alec wasn't sure how much of that talking he would do but he was still there. Dressed in a battered, fraying sweater and jeans, he was standing awkwardly at the door, hands tucked in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the chill of the day.