This is probably 100% AU because I highly doubt Magnus would ever A) be asked to babysit B) agree to babysit or C) be able to baby sit because of the whole memories thing, but I had the idea and it needed to be expressed via typed words so here we are. I do not own the Mortal Instruments or any of these characters and I apologize in advance for any typos and or grammar mistakes in this story. Enjoy!
He tried the most obvious first.
"Angel."
Nothing.
"Princess"
Nada.
"Asparagus."
A nose wrinkle.
Well, at least Magnus knew she was listening now. He sighed. This was going to take a while.
Magnus wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up in this situation. It was a Friday night, a quality free time night which he usually spent either redecorating the apartment for the new week or catching up on shamelessly bad soap operas, but what he was actually doing on this night was about as far from the normal as he could get.
Magnus Bane was babysitting.
Just the thought of it made the warlock shudder. In all his years, never had he sullied himself with measly babysitting, but when Jocelyn had shown up on his door step with four year old Clary on her hip only four months after the girl's last treatment looking harassed and at the end of her rope, he couldn't even consider telling her no. Especially after Jocelyn had started talking.
"Magnus, I'm so sorry to drop by like this, and I know you have no obligations to help me, but I'm in a bit of a bind. I have time sensitive plans and I can't take Clary along, but there is no one in this city that I trust to watch her, would you please take care of her just this once? It will only be for a few hours and I'll pay you double what I usually do."
Her words were pleading, but there was no trace of begging in her voice. Jocelyn had too much pride for that. She mainly seemed solemn and vaguely nervous which only made Magnus take her more seriously. He didn't know what her "time sensitive plans" could be, and he didn't want to ask, all he knew was despite the fact that he had only met the mother-daughter pair twice before he couldn't even picture himself turning them away. There was something about the younger's cute ginger curls and obstinate stubbornness that appealed to him.
Plus, Jocelyn paid extremely well.
Magnus sighed and threw up a glamour to mask any of his Downworlderly features that might make poor Clarissa forget him every time she blinked, "Fine. But this better not become a habit, Nephilim."
Jocelyn's face tightened a tad at the reference to her blood, but she looked immensely relieved at the quickness of Magnus's acceptance. She handed him a bag full of what appeared to be crayons, stuffed animals, and children's books with a few words on what to expect from Clary that evening before setting the girl down on the other side of the threshold and kissing her on the forehead.
Jocelyn's goodbye was quick, but it was the warmest she had sounded since Magnus had opened the door that evening. "Mommy will be back soon, be good for Magnus. I love you, Clary."
With one final nod in Magnus's direction, she was gone and the warlock was left truly alone with the four year old for the first time.
All he could do was sigh.
"Alright, Clarissa, let's get this party started."
He steered her into the kitchen with one hand on her back and the other still holding the heavy bag full of kid stuff. When he set it on the counter he was amused to notice that what he had originally taken for polka dots were in fact the designs of tiny angels all over the bag.
Old habits die hard don't they, Shadowhunter.
Magnus emptied it out on the island and started sifting through the contents more closely before the burning of eyes on the side of his face got to be too much. He turned and smiled down at the glaring face of Clarissa Fray with only the slightest bit of annoyance showing through.
"Is something wrong, Clarissa?"
"Where's Mom?"
His smile twitched. "She went to run an errand, she'll be back soon."
"Who are you? I want my mom!" She was screeching now, and Magnus couldn't help but wonder once more if she was part banshee even though he knew better.
The smile was gone. It had lasted longer than he thought it would, he was actually kind of proud. "Look, Clarissa, you don't want to be here, I don't want you here, but can't we just get along until your mom gets back? We have all of these...fun things to do."
No dice. The little girl just settled her face more deeply into her frown and huffed up at him. "Come on, Clarissa, isn-"
"Stop calling me that! Clarissa is only my name when I'm in trouble!"
Magnus braced his hands on his knees and looked more closely into Clarissa's face, considering.
And that's how the warlock ended up where he was now, in a glaring contest with a four year old listing off nicknames like he was reading a grocery list.
"Sweetheart. Cupcake. Honey. Doll. Pancake." They had been at it for forty-five minutes and there was no end in sight. Magnus's eye was starting to twitch, but he refused to give up. He would find a nickname for this little banshee if it was the last thing he did. Ah. That's a thought.
"Banshee."
Clary's face scrunched even more and her tongue shot out of her mouth.
Magnus's long arms shot out in an exasperated shrug of his shoulders, "What do you want from me, biscuit?"
He wasn't exactly sure where the name had come from, and he would only realize later just how perfect the name was for the girl standing in front of him; not necessarily sweet, but genuinely good just like Clary herself. At that moment, however, as the gap toothed grin that Clary flashed him melted his heart and her tiny freckles winked at him around the dimples and pudgy cheeks on her four year old face, the only thing going through the warlock's century worn mind was: this girl is trouble.