Chapter Text
Alec chuckled in the mirror, admiring the new artwork on his skin. Clary had truly outdone herself, creating a tattoo that effectively hid his soulmark without making it disappear completely. She had even successfully talked him into getting a watercolor tattoo. It was an angel with bright wings, the ink flowing out and around the cursive “thank you, have a good day” of Alec’s soulmark. After living with diagnosed depression for so long, and really learning to not let it control his life, his soulmark helped remind him to be grateful for the small things and work to have a good day. It totally transformed the meaning the soulmark had for him. He hadn’t found his soulmate yet and the older he got, the more he lost hope. It certainly didn’t help that he had a phrase that he heard at least twenty times a day.
“This is amazing,” he said, shaking his head, turning back to her to let her wrap it up.
“I’m so happy you like it,” she smiled, “you’ve been tattooed by me before, so you remember all of the aftercare instructions right?”
Alec nodded and slipped his shirt on, “Don’t worry, Clary, I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m just saying,” she said, snapping her gloves off, “you did slice through one of the ones on your arm.”
Alec leveled a look at her, letting her know that he was not amused. He was the chef at his café, and sometimes a knife slipped into the skin. Especially when you’re young and learning. When he was eighteen his brother, Jace, convinced him that it would be a good idea if they got matching tattoos. So they went out, determined, and it turned out that Clary had been shadowing an artist there. At the time she wasn’t quite an apprentice – because she still wanted to go to school first – but she was still happy to act as secretary and start learning the ropes.
Jace and Alec had been more than a little stunned to realize that the small redhead who had greeted them by saying, “I swear if you don’t realize that this is a permanent change to your body, please leave,” was Jace’s soulmate.
Especially considering his response had been, “What’s your problem?”
Gripping his brother’s shoulder, stopping Jace from saying something stupid (again), Alec said nothing and lifted up the hem of his brother’s shirt. Allowing Clary to see her own messy print and the sentence that she had just spoken written into Jace’s hip.
Fourteen years later Clary had opened her own tattoo shop and was fortunate to have experienced so much success with it. She had wormed her way enough into Alec’s good side that she felt comfortable teasing him about his first tattoo, the one that had been tragically lost to the kitchen knife in culinary school.
When Alec had finally had enough money saved up he went to Clary to get a cover-up, and had only been tattooed by her since then.
“Watch it, Fray,” he said, pointing a finger at her, “the time will come when you need a sitter, and I just might conveniently be out of town.”
Clary just laughed, gently cradling her tummy, and sent him on his way. They had businesses to run.
Not long after Alec left Clary was working at the front desk when the phone rang, “Good morning, thank you for calling Pandemonium Tattoos, this is Clary.”
“Biscuit it’s been too long since I last heard your voice,” the caller responded.
“Magnus!” Clary exclaimed, “I’m so happy to hear from you, are you back in the states?”
Magnus had spent the past seven years traveling with Doctors Without Borders, figuring if your father is going to try and buy your love, might as well do something meaningful with the money. Asmodeus Bane financed Magnus going to North Carolina for his undergraduate degree, Texas for his medical degree, and California for his residency. He graduated debt-free and went out to travel the world and give back to it. But it also meant that after he left, he was never back in the city for longer than a week or so. It had broken Clary’s heart when she got married without Magnus there, neither of them sure when he would be back in the states. If that day would ever come.
“Yes, I’m back in New York, permanently this time.”
“Magnus I’m so happy to hear that, I need to be in the shop all day today, but is there any chance I can finally convince you to let me tattoo you?”
She could so perfectly envision Magnus throwing his head back, eyes crinkling around the corners while he laughed, “You know what,” he chuckled, “sure. When do you want me to come?”
“If you can get here in half an hour that’d be perfect.”
Hanging up Clary smiled to herself, opening a folder on her computer where she kept her own artwork and references for more tattoo ideas. Magnus was four years older than her, and she truly saw him as an older brother. But over the past 19 years they had not successfully been able to see each other in person. Magnus had gone out to travel the world and the country, while Clary was happy to stay in the city. But they still kept in contact, and managed to keep their relationship strong.
Clary had teased Magnus that if he ever came back he would have to come and get a tattoo from her, she had so many ideas for him, but she was never sure if that would be something he would be in to. Just because she had sleeves didn’t mean that everyone she knew and loved would want that too.
“Excuse me,” a voice sang out, “I’m looking for the world’s best tattoo artist!”
“Magnus, holy shit, how are you?” Clary ran up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
Magnus pulled back to look at Clary, stunned by how far she had come from the fourteen year old kid always covered in paint that used to follow him around. Her mom had taught art at the private school Asmodeus sent him to, and instead of going home Magnus more often than not stayed after school with Mrs. Fray. He helped Clary with her homework and somehow they each still liked each other enough to hang out when they were both going through a major transitionary period in their lives – puberty.
Now, that kid that he used to eat apple slices with after school was standing in front of him with a ring on her left hand, tattoos down her arms, and even some starting to creep up her neck. Her shirt billowed a bit from her stomach, and Magnus had a hunch that he knew the reason for that. His little sister had grown up.
“Biscuit, you’re not a kid anymore!”
Clary laughed, “No, I’m not. I’m so grown up that I have my own baby on my way.”
Magnus shook his head and followed Clary through the shop, eyes lingering on all of the art on the walls. His biscuit has been very busy.
“This is my work space,” Clary said, taking a seat on the rolling stool, “Can I show you what I would really love to ink into your skin forever?”
“Thank you so much for saying it like that,” Magnus teased.
Clary smiled and held out a piece of paper, looking back at him was Bugs Bunny dressed as a waitress.
“Because we used to watch Looney Toons together?” Magnus whispered, and Clary nodded.
“I thought it might look nice by your soulmark, since the handwriting is that blocky lettering, we can make it more sarcastic in tone, more humorous. I’ll keep it pretty 2D and true to the nature of the cartoons. And because the words are horizontal there’s space for a full body Bugs. I don’t know if that fits your soulmate’s personality-”
“I wouldn’t know either.” Magnus met Clary’s eyes, “I haven’t met them yet. I would love to start to hide it, I’m thirty-four and this phrase, ‘Hi I’m going to be serving you today, are you ready to order?’ is one that you hear literally every time you go out to eat, no matter where in the world you are. I’ve grown to resent this, and I would really like to love it again.”
Clary nodded and began to set up, “My first appointment this morning actually had a similar perspective for his own soulmark. His is a really common phrase too.”
“Oh?” Magnus extended his arm out to Clary.
“Yeah, my brother in-law, actually. His soulmark is on his pec and he said he got tired of feeling resentful every time he saw it in the mirror.”
“Well I’m glad that I’m not the only person who is doomed to live a life without every really knowing if you’ve met your soulmate. But never mind that for now, please tell me more about what’s going on with you.”
“Well,” Clary began, “even though he’s a detective and has an incredible record, my husband is, hands down, the dumbest man I’ve ever met…”
Two hours later Magnus looked down at his arm and smiled, feeling like he could just start giggling, “I see how people get addicted to this.” On his arm was a smiling Bugs Bunny with a silly wig, and even a speech bubble around the words of his soulmark.
Clary laughed and started explaining the aftercare instructions and wrapping it up so Magnus could be on his way.
“I’m so happy to be home,” Magnus whispered into Clary’s hair as he left the shop.