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Magnus’ nails glowed with every colour of the rainbow.
Sometimes they’d be plain black, but more often they were blue, or gold, or red, or purple — whatever colour best matched his outfit of the day. Sometimes they’d be literal rainbows, or iridescent, or coated in glitter, or shimmery in the light.
When Magnus used his magic, the strands of blue would twist around his fingers and the nail polish would glow or shimmer or shine in the light; when he gestured, dramatically as always, his nails would be streaks of colour through the air.
Alec knew he used magic to avoid chipping throughout the day, since his nails had been less perfect during those weeks he’d spent magicless. It was during that time that Alec first offered to help him paint them; Magnus had hesitated, then accepted, and it’d become almost a tradition for them to sit down on the bed every morning, a towel spread beneath Magnus’ hands to catch any drips, and Alec would rub away yesterday’s colour to replace it with a new one.
This first time, Magnus’ hands had shaken until he almost dropped the bottle and he’d been debating the merits of hurling it across the room (cons: he’d need to clean it up by hand; pros: it would feel good), when Alec had gently taken the bottle and brush from him. Magnus hadn’t expected Alec to know how to paint nails, let alone to be as good at it as he obviously was; Alec explained that while Izzy had loved painting her nails when she was younger, she hadn’t always had a sufficiently steady hand to manage it, and so Alec had learned how. (Magnus thought that was adorable.)
After two shirts were destroyed by streaks of colour from not fully dried nail polish, Alec had bought a quick-dry coating and refused to let Magnus move until they were dry. That was the only part of the routine that didn’t last once Magnus’ magic was back — drying the polish with magic was much easier and faster — but the rest of it remained, a quiet tradition at whatever early hour they needed to get up. Sometimes it wasn’t possible — Alec had an early patrol, or Magnus needed to meet with a vampire client, or any of the other little emergencies of their lives came up and interrupted them — but they managed it surprisingly often.
It wasn’t until a solid seven months after the Lilith/Asmodeus/Jonathan/Edom disaster — not to mention their marriage — and two months after the move to Alicante, that Magnus asked if Alec would like him to return the favour. It was a rare relaxed morning — Alec had a meeting with the Council at noon but nothing else — and the sun shone lazily through the window, lighting Magnus up in gold.
Alec blinked at him for a moment, considering — he’d never thought about putting nail polish on himself before, but it would clearly make Magnus happy and he could always take it off if he disliked it, so— “Okay.”
“Really?” Magnus beamed at him, immediately twirling his fingers to summon several different colours, and Alec would have faced far worse than a bit of nail polish in exchange for that smile. “What colour? And please don’t say black.”
“Uh.” Alec hesitated, uncertain. “Blue?”
“Blue it is, darling,” Magnus replied with a smile. The bottle he selected wasn’t a dark blue, but it wasn’t neon, either; in fact, it was almost exactly the same colour as Magnus’ magic with barely a hint of sparkle. Alec offered his hands, and Magnus insisted that he close his eyes before he began for “maximum effect”.
The touch of the brush was cold but gentle, and Alec relaxed into the sound of Magnus’ voice as he talked about a client he’d had yesterday, a Shadowhunter who’d asked him to do a complex bit of warding to keep out an abusive ex.
Soon enough, Magnus was putting the brush back in the bottle and magic was licking up Alec’s fingers, drying the polish. “Open your eyes, sayang.”
Alec obeyed and held up his hands to the light, which caught on the shimmer in the blue. He’d half-expected it to look ridiculous, a frivolity on his callused hands, but he should’ve known better — it looked incredible on Magnus, after all. The blue polish was elegant, pretty, refined; Alec was grinning when he looked up. “I love it.”
“I love you,” Magnus said, and yanked him into a kiss.
~
Alec wore the nail polish to his meeting for three reasons: one, it made Magnus grin; two, it matched with his tie; and three, he rather wanted to irritate the Council.
It took a few minutes for them to notice — Alec had set up his notes in front of him and prepared to defend the bill he wanted to pass, which would allow same-sex parents to adopt, before he caught Councillor Dearborn staring fixedly and offendedly at his hands.
He’d wondered whether he’d say something, but Dearborn’s staring had apparently drawn the attention of Councillor Shadetree, an outspoken woman who should’ve retired three years ago due to old age but had insisted on remaining. She was logical and not particularly anti-Downworlder, which was rather nice, but she had strict notions of gender norms and it was unsurprising when she raised a disdainful eyebrow at him. “What is that on your hand, Lightwood?”
“Lightwood-Bane,” Alec corrected automatically, “and it’s—”
“I think your… warlock may have cast a spell on your fingers,” Dearborn interrupted, apparently encouraged by Shadetree’s intervention.
“My husband painted my nails by hand, actually,” Alec informed him. “And it’s quite offensive to refer to somebody by their species, you know.”
Dearborn scowled, opening his mouth, but Shadetree spoke up before he could further display his bigotry. “I was under the impression, Inquisitor, that such decoration is generally worn by women.”
“I was under the impression, Councillor,” Alec returned, matching her tone, “that women and men are equal in Shadowhunter society.”
She huffed, but Alec had done his research — she’d supported a bill to officially give women and men equal rights in Shadowhunter society. He went on to the main point of the meeting before anyone else could say anything. Dearborn and his followers dissolved into glares, but Shadetree, along with Jia and the less prejudiced Councillors, at least listened to Alec’s arguments. The Council was divided into three groups: Dearborn’s, a little less than half, composed almost entirely of old white men with powerful family names who hated Alec as much for having a husband as they did for his husband’s race; Shadetree’s group, much smaller, with some inherent prejudices but capable of being argued with; and the rest, Alec’s group, mostly younger Shadowhunters who actually wanted change. He knew he had the support of the last group, and probably nobody from Dearborn, but it was Shadetree’s bunch that he needed to convince.
He’d fought and bullied and bartered same-sex marriage past the Council a month ago, and that served as a precedent to back up his case — if two men or two women could marry with the same rights as a man and a woman, why couldn’t they adopt children?
Bigotry, that was why. “It’s unnatural,” Dearborn snarled. “Exposing children to such — such impropriety—”
“Same-sex couples are no less appropriate for children than heterosexual ones,” Alec said, tone still Alicante-polite. “We are in desperate need of parents to adopt the orphans created in the last year, and same-sex couples would be ideal candidates if there were fewer barriers to adoption.”
“We don’t want those children growing up like that,” Dearborn replied. “Alternatives—”
“There are no alternatives,” Alec hissed, a bit of the anger he’d been suppressing rising to the surface. “If you’d prefer the children died—”
“Of course not, but you have to understand how unnatural—”
“I understand nothing of the sort,” Alec said shortly. “All in favour of my bill?”
~
It passed. The Council argued it and debated back and forth until Alec’s head was pounding, but it passed — Councillor Shadetree’s vote, along with the majority of her group, had been decisive.
Her eyes flicked disdainfully down to Alec’s blue-painted nails, but she didn’t comment again, and there was something almost respectful in her nod. Alec inclined his head in response, thanked her, and stumbled gratefully into the peace and quiet of the loft.
Magnus had been working, but he came hurrying out when the wards detected Alec’s arrival, and he didn’t need to ask Alec what the outcome had been — Alec’s tired grin said it all for him. Magnus kissed him brightly, a smile against his lips.
“You did it,” Magnus breathed, still smiling.
“I had help,” Alec replied — Aline, Lydia, Jia, a young woman named Amita Anand. “And I think these” — raising his hands to indicate his nails — “served as a good-luck charm.”
“I doubt you needed it,” Magnus said, kissing him again for good measure. “You’re changing the world, sayang.”
Alec shrugged, half-uncomfortable with the praise despite the frequency with which Magnus bestowed it, and tugged him back into another kiss with nails glowing blue.