Pound of Flesh

Chapter Three - Under the Weather

"Come along it is the break of day
Surely now, you'll have some things to say
It's not the time for telling tales on me

So come along, it wont be long
'Til we return happy
Shut your eyes, there are no lies
In this world we call sleep
Let's desert this day of hurt
Tomorrow we'll be free"

-Soon We'll Be Found

By Sia


"Nineteen. Nineteen and already hitched, to your first love at that." Jace sniffed, wiping away invisible tears as he leaned back into Magnus's couch. "It's just so... domestic."

Alec gave his parabatai a playful shove, flushing. "As if you didn't do the same with Clary."

The girl in question giggled, engagement band on her finger glinting as she sorted through wedding invites. She stacked several squares of heavy, cream-colored stationary into a neat pile print-side up. "I still can't believe we're doing this." She sighed, admiring their first batch of invitations ready to be enveloped and mailed. They had a lot of work ahead of them; double weddings tended to have double the guests to alert.

"God I feel like an old spinster now." Isabelle laughed, leaning into Simon who had been fumbling around with some ribbon samples. She elbowed him in the side. "If only I had a guy to support me so I can spend the rest of my life safely in the kitchen raising my 2.5 kids."

Simon rolled his eyes. "If we were married I'd make sure you were anywhere but the kitchen. And don't you think a kitchen would be a somewhat hazardous environment to rear children?"

"Oh Angel." Jace groaned. "Don't mention those little gremlins."

Clary arched an eyebrow. "Not that I want kids either but, don't you think this should be a group decision and not a Jace decision?"

Jace flinched, clawing at his ears in mock torment. "Kids! No! Do not speak the cursed word!"

A glue bottle was hurled across the coffee table at Jace, and he deftly caught it and tossed it back to Clary. He winked. "Gotta do better than that, babe."

Clary guffawed. "Did you just call me 'babe'?"

"Maybe."

"Well forget it. I'll have babies just to spite you. Babies everywhere. Then we'll see who you'll be calling 'babe'."

"Well..." Simon stiffly attempted at a segway. "I'm sure glad I can't have children."

Isabelle pecked the vampire on the cheek. "We'll adopt, like my brother. Right?"

"What?" Alec hadn't been paying all too much attention to the conversation. He had been too busy worrying why his other half had failed to leave their room the duration of the get-together.

"Children. Are you and Magnus ever planning to adopt? Or maybe have a surrogate?"

Alec shifted uncomfortably, still eyeing the bedroom door. "Don't you think it's a little early to be talking about this?"

"You're almost twenty, Alec." His sister scoffed. "A lot of guys your age are seasoned fathers. And it's not like you're adopting right now we're just talking. It's fun."

"Really?" Alec muttered, brow furrowing. "Well I'm sure Magnus would love to chat that up. If he gets his ass out of bed, that is."

Jace, who had busied himself with licking envelopes, spat into a nearby trashcan before commenting. "Is that where the glitter bomb has been this entire time? In bed? It's three thirty."

"I know." Alec stood, brushing paper trimmings off his lap before standing and walking over to the door. He knocked. "Magnus?"

"Mmmmm?" Alec's concern grew when he heard the raspiness of the groan. This cold is really hitting him hard.

Alec tried to sound as gentle as possible, leaning against the door to make sure his words weren't lost through the wood barrier. "You okay?"

There was a stir in the room, the creaking of their bed along with the shifting of their comforter. "Yeah... just a little under the weather, that's all."

Alec frowned. "You've been 'under the weather' for the past two weeks, Mags."

Footsteps came in response, and the shadowhunter was jarred when the door opened. The warlock peeked past the crack of the door, bloodshot and baggy cat eyes squinting against the afternoon light. "I know, hun."

The shadowhunter's heart panged when he saw his fiance. Magnus... you look half to hell. The warlock was slouched in the doorframe wearing nothing but a pair of black shimmering boxers, a bright focal point which normally emphasized the man's perky attitude and fit physique. But now it was too much of a contrast from the sickly warlock. His tanned skin was clammy and lackluster, his lips seemed to be turning blue and his ungelled hair was a bed-head disaster. Not to mention the smeared attempts at eyeliner and mascara, making his eyes look even more sunken in and wasted.

Alec was beginning to wonder if this was really the cold Magnus was claiming it was.

He glanced back at the group, who were all silently busying themselves with the stationary. A little too quiet. Alec knew they were listening in. He turned back to Magnus, offering a sorry smile. "Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No, I'm fine." Magnus sighed before taking a deep breath punctuated by a small hacking fit. He waved his fiance off. "Go work on the invites. I'll magic some up tonight, when I don't feel like total shit."

He began to close the door but Alec stuck his foot in between the door and the jamb. Magnus shot him an unfriendly look, and unsure of what to say Alec blurted, "how about some soup? Some nice, homemade chicken and rice soup?"

"Chicken and rice?" Magnus considered, eyeing Alec as he mulled the offer over behind those foggy cat eyes. Finally, with a sigh, he scooped a robe off from the floor and shrugged it on. "Keep your sister away from my cooking ware."

So that's when the planning party took a break to make soup for the ailing groom. They had the kind of fun they rarely seemed to have anymore: just thoughtless, kiddish, goofy fun in the kitchen. Jace and Simon dueled with ladles. Clary, Izzy, and Alec meanwhile messed around with the rice cooker, none of them knowing how to actually use it and playing twenty questions with Magnus to get it up and running. They laughed as they pretended the pot of boiling water was a basket and taking three-point shots with bits of chicken, celery and carrots. Magnus, proudly, snagged the high score, even though he was suspected of performance-enhancing magic. And when that was all over, they had some damn good soup to eat together.

They all sat around the messy coffee table, coupled off in different corners of the couches. Isabelle and Simon were chatting over their food, both still a bit ornery from the playtime cooking. Clary and Jace were curled up against each other sharing the same soup bowl. Which left Alec with Magnus sprawled across his lap, half asleep and accepting the occasional spoonful of broth from Alec. As he fed his lover, Alec toyed with the warlock's tangled hair, combing it through a little with his free fingers. It was during this time Alec pondered. He pondered how many times the old warlock held him like this, vulnerable in his arms. When Magnus stopped eating, Alec set the bowl down onto the table and settled back to relax. He began to doze, arms around Magnus and pressed snugly against the cushions.

A mix of thoughts, worries, and images stirred as he drew nearer to sleep. His concern for Magnus's worsening condition, idle speculation about their wedding and if it was really a good idea to pair theirs with his parabatai's. But on the far edge of sleep, a more surreal scene provoked his vision.

A dark red sky. Magnus, bruised and bloody, holding him. Whispers dancing around his ear, spoken in a tongue akin to the crackling of embers. He was cold and heavy, no more than dead weight in the warlock's arms.

But the vision vanished as quickly as it came, and soon Alec surrendered to the peaceful nothingness of sleep.


A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait between updates. I just had to sit down and outline this sucker, as well as write out a solid ending to work up too. So hopefully, the updating will be semi-regular. :)

I'd love to hear your thoughts, a review would be lovely.