Work Text:
If there's one thing Yixing has learnt since dating a tattoo artist, it's what a miserably low pain tolerance he possesses. As it happens Yixing has in fact learnt a lot of things — tattooing involves a lot more catering and pharmacy supplies than you'd expect; safely and efficiently setting up and clearing up a station takes more knowledge than it looks; dividing packages of needles by size is simultaneously boring as hell and completely unsettling.
Right now it's mainly that first thing that's on Yixing's mind.
"Xing, I haven't even turned the machine on yet."
Yixing gives Jongdae a wounded look. "It hurt," he mourns, hunching his shoulders. It earns him the lightest of smacks to his shin when his foot disturbs the film wrap stretched over the bed. Jongdae had forgone taping it down under some misguided notion that Yixing's soul wasn't going to leave his body this time. "I think I've changed my mind."
"I don't think you have," Jongdae says pleasantly, turning away to pluck a stencil from his noteboard. He balances it on Yixing's stomach, gives him a little pat, then stretches over for a pair of gloves. "I've been drawing it up all morning, you'll have to actually pay me if you change your mind. No one likes a time waster, Zhang." He gives Yixing a menacing waggle of his brows as he pulls on a glove.
Yixing winces at the sharp snap of latex and wilts further. The prospect of Jongdae's hourly rate is more of a deterrent than the sting of green soap on his shaved skin, though, so he gingerly lowers his leg back into position. Jongdae drives a hard bargain. Although he is particularly indulgent of Yixing's nerves, giving his stomach another soothing pet as he retrieves the stencil. Yixing's still entirely rigid though, insides churning as Jongdae lines the paper up above his ankle bone. Jongdae presses firmly, a warm touch through latex and paper, then adds soothingly cold liquid before smoothing it over.
This is Yixing's third tattoo in two years. He knows well enough how this works after suffering through two larger, more painfully placed pieces, and he knows how Jongdae works after long evenings spent here so he could compose with company. This doesn't actually make it any less horrifying.
"I wouldn't really back out. I'm just.." Yixing's getting restless on the leather bed, sweating against the plastic covering. Yixing's never been the type for things like this, and they weren't a couple when Jongdae worked on him the previous two times. Those were necessity — healing and moving on. You wouldn't know the scars from his surgery were there unless he pointed them out under the ink, but talking about his accident and drastic change in career path isn't something he makes a habit of. This tattoo is more just sentiment and an alleged benefit of sleeping with the owner of a studio.
"Aren't I gentle enough with you?" Jongdae grins. The tiny skulls dotting the script around his neck do, too, as he cranes to kiss away the affronted look forming on Yixing's face.
"Doesn't Tao have anyone in today?" Yixing asks as he watches Jongdae dripping black, white, red and green in turn into caps lined along his desk. It's unusually quiet with the opposite station empty. The radio is at a civilised volume, and Jongdae only talks as much as he feels like, which even in company he likes dwindles once he starts work. It's kind of strange not having Zitao's non-stop commentary on the days proceedings.
"Don't think so," Jongdae says with his head ducked inside a cabinet, and Yixing stops looking quite so much like a wilting leaf. Zitao is a good friend but bad at knowing when to hold his pierced little tongue; Yixing doesn't feel up to putting on a brave face for the sake of Zitao blithely wounding his pride.
"I've never known an apprentice get such an easy ride," Jongdae sniffs as though that's nothing to do with him. He leans to chin affectionately at the top of Yixing's head as he steps away from the sink, and Yixing makes a sound as the cup of sterile water in Jongdae's hand gets close enough for the sharpness to hit the back of his throat.
"I don't like anything about this," Yixing says roughly, turning away. Jongdae's been working with it all for long enough that he barely notices how disgustingly sterile everything smells. Throat cleared and eyes bright, Yixing waves Jongdae and his stupid big grin away before coming back to the subject of his mutinous apprentice. "Tao leaves for Junmyeon's lunch breaks, doesn't he? That's nice."
"Mm." Jongdae shrugs. Junmyeon is funding Zitao's apprenticeship and seemingly anything else that takes his fancy. When Jongdae was an apprentice he had to use hand-me-downs; it's not that it's not cool getting to try out all of the newest equipment, but it's entirely unacceptable that it's thanks to an underling and Jongdae's best friend. None of these cute lunch break dates and endless money for supplies back in his day. "Nice, irresponsible, unreliable.. I should just give Myeonie a refund on him."
"Probably not a good idea to upset Junmyeon when you've still got so much work to do on him." Yixing smiles and nudges his bare toes into Jongdae's waist. This is true — Junmyeon's a pretty small guy, but Jongdae's managed to spend a good two years filling his back.
"Wouldn't miss either of them." Jongdae wiggles away from the prod of toes to his hip and daintily throws himself down into his chair. "But have you seen the work the apprentice at the place across town does?" he asks, checking the connection of his machine before wheeling himself closer. Yixing hasn't, but Jongdae never actually requires any participation in tales of his rival studio. "Tao's way better. He's still got a long way to go, y'know, he's only been doing this a while, but that guy can barely make an even line— are you ready?"
Yixing startles when Jongdae's foot suddenly presses on the pedal, bringing the machine to life. He somehow forgets how unnervingly loud a process this is. "Not yet." His stomach lurches despite how gently Jongdae takes the curve of his ankle in hand. "Wait— Jongdae, just a minute longer."
Jongdae may not have any nerves left for the process himself, but he does sympathise. To an extent. He's lenient with Yixing, though — he knows how much strength he has in everything else he does, and really that just makes his reaction to a half hour ink job funnier. "I don't have all week, Xing." He grins, foot on the pedal again. Yixing takes a deep breath.
"Not too bad?" Jongdae pauses to wipe a dampened paper towel over Yixing's sore skin after just one curved line. Always best to start people off easy. It's a rhetorical question, though, and the line is incomplete. Yixing isn't howling or trying to climb out of the chair, so he starts up again. "It's not as bad as your others, right? Ankles generally aren't as bad as wrists. I think maybe the back of my hand— maybe my shin, that was the worst. Not for you, Xing."
"Yes. Ok." Yixing's breathing quick and heavy through his nose. Nice and steady, in, out— "Dae—" That is really so much worse than he'd been prepared for. "I don't think I was made for things like this," he says between purses of his lips. "Get the next one for me."
"Sure." Jongdae's head is bowed, but Yixing can still see his features shifting into a grin. If it weren't for the rattle from the machine and his focus being more than a little occupied with why on earth he's putting himself through this again, Yixing would have heard a mumble from Jongdae about anniversaries, but— "Oh— no, oh no. Break. Jongdae," he says far too desperately for how merciful Jongdae is, "Please, I need a break."
Jongdae lifts away as soon as he reaches the end of the line. And laughs as he leans back to wet the paper towel again, because Jongdae is the worst boyfriend ever. "Poor Xing," he coos as he gently cleans away blood and excess ink. It's soothing having the towel pressed to the skin with Jongdae's palm, but Yixing jolts with a little whimper before the relief sets in. "I don't remember you being quite this bad before."
"We weren't dating before, so it— Don't laugh." Yixing sounds so pathetic that Jongdae does actually attempt to bite it back. It's not like Zitao hadn't been in constant hysterics over how clumsy Jongdae got around Yixing back then, but he can't resist the bait.
"I definitely wouldn't have fallen for you if you'd been like this," he tutts. "You are actually my worst customer."
Yixing knows there's no bite to it, but he still looks deflated. Turns out he didn't need Zitao's prodding or other, more suited customers around to take a knock to his pride. "You'll never have to work on me again after this."
Jongdae hums. "We'll see." He takes Yixing's shin and gently sets his leg back in place from where it's been gradually inching away. Yixing yelps softly when the machine starts back up.
After minutes of unhindered work Yixing's jaw is starting to ache from the pressure of his clenched teeth. The real agony is directly in the needle's path, but the stinging hot flush and slow, steady rise of nausea creeping in after is starting to get to him too.
Jongdae has ink in places that don't bear thinking about, and he's a terrible, moody tease about his work, but he's still sympathetic to those without an acquired taste for the sting. Yixing's grateful for every second of the generously frequent breaks Jongdae is giving him, eyes bright and cheeks flushed when he weakly returns Jongdae's reassuring smiles.
Next time, because there undoubtedly will still be a next time, he might just have it wherever Jongdae advises is least painful.
"It's looking really good," Yixing mumbles in a moment when he feels able to speak without audibly wincing. Watching Jongdae work so methodically is always a pleasure, albeit a painful one.
Jongdae doesn't look away from his work, but Yixing sees his lashes flutter as he smiles. He's the most endearing jerk Yixing could ever have hoped for. "It's gonna look great on you," Jongdae agrees. Then he wipes Yixing's skin clean and presses the needle back in an inch higher up.
Yixing barely manages to gasp for him to stop before he's jolted up on the bed.
"You're doing great, Xing," Jongdae soothes, straightening up in his chair.
"I'm not." Yixing doesn't often get agitated, but that's definitely more the tone he's taken on than his feeble protests from earlier. Jongdae smoothes the back of his gloved hand over Yixing's other ankle. "You'd have already had this done twice over if it was you."
Jongdae frowns. He sets his machine down and worries the back of his lip ring with his tongue, because Yixing clearly isn't going to be ready to start again until he's said what he needs to. It's not like he's on the clock or anything, though — Jongdae purposely cleared an afternoon for precisely this reason.
"You had that man that sat for eight hours a while ago. And that girl who needed an ID check and held her dad's hand, she only had one break. I'm taking up so much of your day, I know you hate working on people who don't sit well." Yixing doesn't exactly rant, he's too soft and placid for getting fired up in the same way Jongdae does. But Jongdae's relieved either way when he pauses, because that gives him opportunity to lean up out of his chair and drop a peck to Yixing's cheek.
"Ah," he cautions when Yixing gives him a bewildered, flustered look. No more of that. "You're not wasting my time. And I've had people faint and throw up on me, so you're far from my worst. And," he raises his gloved hands to keep Yixing quiet. Regretfully they're messy enough that he has to keep them to himself. "You're my boyfriend, so you get allowances. And if you were just putting on a brave face with the others, that's ok."
Yixing's flushed cheeks darken from pink to scarlet. Jongdae getting sincere on him means he must have been making a fuss. This really just isn't him, but with the majority of his social circle radiating from a tattoo studio it sometimes feels like it should be. "Sorry," he says quietly, because Jongdae fell for a composer with a low pain threshold and has never wanted for anything else. "It's just been worse than I anticipated. Like you said, after my wrist.."
Jongdae's grinning too widely for another kiss, so he just butts his nose into Yixing's cheek. "We can stop as many times as you need. Within reason." Yixing reciprocates with a tilt of his head against Jongdae's. He's fine. He was being silly.
"Ok. Attempt six." Yixing still feels pretty sickly as they get settled again, but considerably less ruffled.
"Good man." Jongdae wipes away the blood that's beaded up while they've been talking before reaching for his machine. "Ready to start again?"
Yixing nods. Knowing it really, really is ok if he needs to stop is a calming thought in itself. This time he does a better job of relaxing back into the bed, focusing on the soft beat of music in the background and sucking in a deep breath. "I'll do five whole minutes this time," he says determinedly, smiling when Jongdae's lowered head shakes a little.
Jongdae's just started weighing out a curve when the chime above the door sounds and doesn't look up. Yixing waits a second, then obligingly raises his head from the rest to excuse him.
"If you could please wait a moment, and— oh."
"Oh," Zitao echoes, swiping off his sunglasses and heaving his upper body over the counter to better take in the view. "You didn't tell me ge was coming in today," he calls to Jongdae, pouting and twisting on his toes. Jongdae can hunch in remarkably small when he tries. "If I hadn't come back early I'd have missed him! I knew you didn't give me a long lunch break just because you were being nice."
"Jongdae," Yixing gasps, unsure if he's scandalised or touched. Jongdae lifts his foot from the pedal and throws a scowl over his shoulder at Zitao.
"And yet here you are. Surely Junmyeon could have kept you entertained for longer than an hour."
Zitao beams at that and wiggles on his toes again. Jongdae really doesn't want to know. "Yeah, but umma wanted to see you so he brought me back."
These two are nothing but trouble. And it's such annoyingly endearing trouble, Jongdae can't even find it in himself to like, bar them or something. Jongdae shoots Yixing an apologetic look as he passes him the ball of paper towel before peeling off his gloves. "Sorry, Xing, you don't mind for Myeonie, right?"
Yixing shakes his head. He doesn't mind the prospect of another break at all, but he's not sure how he feels about Jongdae being a kind hearted traitor. Thankfully as Zitao starts to point out this very fact Junmyeon joins him, only chest height at the counter, and a firm touch between Zitao's shoulder blades quietens him to just glaring in Jongdae's direction.
"Yixing's here," Junmyeon says, surprised, and Yixing offers him a sad little wave. "I didn't expect to see you back on there so soon." Junmyeon folds his arms on the counter and leans over to take a look when Yixing obligingly, gingerly lifts the towel away. It's only a small design, but Junmyeon still looks thoroughly impressed. Junmyeon is just nice like that, Yixing thinks as he presses the towel back in place, because Junmyeon has had something horrendously close to thirty hours worth of work on his back and little reason other than courtesy to be impressed by anyone.
"I didn't either. And you're back for more already."
"I'm hoping we can finish up this section this time," Junmyeon says more to Jongdae now, tugging Zitao away from the counter so he can step across to talk to him. Zitao immediately latches his arms around Junmyeon's waist instead, leaning to prop his chin on his shoulder and watch over anything that might get written down.
"Probably.." Jongdae leafs through his schedule, the designs clipped into the back, and glances at the stencils on his board. "Another six hours should do it."
"Great." Junmyeon smiles. In the background Yixing groans just at the thought. Zitao snickers beside Junmyeon's ear. Junmyeon looks entirely out of place frequenting the studio, if not in his suit from work then in pristine, catalogue-y pastels. Zitao looks entirely out of place on his arm, pierced and inked and far from Junmyeon in both age and temperament. Zitao's banned from some public spaces due to the designs at his throat and dotting each of his fingers; Junmyeon loves nothing more than how grudgingly waived they are if he wants Zitao to be somewhere with him.
"Can I do some?" Zitao pushes up on his toes to crane over Junmyeon, squashing him against the counter in his eagerness to see the designs. "Please? I'm really good at shading. You can line and I'll shade."
"Uh." Jongdae sucks at his upper lip, flicking a look to Junmyeon to gauge whether he should be stern and professional or make boyfriend allowances. Zitao still has a long way to go, and Jongdae would be frustrated to see even the smallest detail out of place, but Junmyeon's not his average customer. Maybe it would suffice as compensation should Zitao ever find out that Junmyeon's link to this studio is an amicably ended college romance with its owner. Jongdae tugs at the neck of his shirt. Thankfully Junmyeon answers for him.
Zitao's whine is loud enough that the notes Yixing has been mapping out in his head all abruptly drop out.
"But he's tattooing gege and they haven't even been together as long as us." Zitao squeezes his arms around Junmyeon tighter, as though a loving crush to his ribs might appeal to his better nature. "Can't I just do a tiny bit? The smallest. One line where no one will see."
"Maybe another time," Junmyeon says, and everyone but Zitao knows it's an indulgent lie. He may near fit under Zitao's chin, but his arms are every bit as strong as Zitao's; it's easy to free himself from the vice grip to turn and look up at him. They were a lot closer to eye level when they first met, but his boy just keeps growing bigger and bigger. "I know you're a hard worker, and Jongdae's still got a lot to teach you—"
"If he'd ever stop thinking he knows best and actually listen to me," Jongdae chimes in as he pulls on a fresh pair of gloves. Zitao squawks indignantly. Sometimes he does have way better ideas, but overall he's very obedient. Praise always makes him glow.
"—and Jongdae will teach you well if you're a good boy and let him. And maybe then you can do some."
"But umma," Zitao protests, but he can't find the words fast enough before Junmyeon has grappled him down into a kiss and turned towards the door.
"I only came by to drop you off and book in, Taozi, I have to get back to work."
"Don't leave me with him," Yixing's voice wavers over from behind the counter, more sincere than playful, and Junmyeon tries not to look too amused by the furious torrent of Mandarin that follows.
"I'm going. Behave yourself and be nice to Yixing," he says when Zitao has finished his first round of being distinctly not nice to Yixing. Zitao puffs his cheeks in annoyance, but Junmyeon just pulls him in by his skull dotted forearms for another peck on the lips.
"Umma," Zitao whines, and at that point Jongdae cringes and quickly retreats back behind the counter after a wave goodbye. He can deal with it if they're not kissing. Why are they always kissing.
Yixing looks as simultaneously flushed and sickly pale as when Jongdae left him. "Sorry." He reaches for the spray bottle on his desk and wets another paper towel. "Uh. For the Tao thing too. I just wanted you to be relaxed."
The sudden pressure to Yixing's sore leg makes him wince, but the wetness quickly soothes away the throbbing. It's gone all too soon, though, and Jongdae's fingers lightly smoothing over the sensitive skin sends a shock of nausea back to his stomach. "Please say it's going to be over soon."
Jongdae can't hold his hand now, so he rubs the unharmed side of Yixing's ankle instead. "Fifteen more minutes. And then you never have to get another tattoo."
"Kind of inevitable that he will though," Zitao says as he joins them behind the counter. He takes a seat beside Yixing and scoots up close enough to nuzzle in against his shoulder. "Umma is the worst, ge. Even worse than hyung."
"He's definitely not worse than hyung." Yixing gives Zitao's shoulder the gentlest of pats. Jongdae squeezes his leg to remind him to keep still but doesn't protest, instead keeping his head low and focused. Finishing this up quickly and efficiently seems beneficial to everyone involved now he's been caught out.
Zitao sighs against Yixing shoulder. He offers Yixing his fingers to squeeze as the needle progresses steadily onward towards his shin. "Hyung is the worst. Trying to get me out of the way when my favourite gege is here all alone. You make this really cute face," he says, smile lilting up at Yixing.
On queue Yixing winces, biting down into his lip as his eyes squeeze shut. He relaxes away from the pain as though he's deflating. When he blinks his eyes back open Zitao is grinning.
"There it is!"
Jongdae's working day has a few hours left to go once Yixing is all finished up and his ankle is securely taped. Jongdae works on two further customers — neither who make as much fuss as Yixing did and both who Zitao comfortingly complains about loud and open in Mandarin to take Yixing's mind off of it.
It's Zitao who carefully removes the dressing and cleans Yixing up again, more relief than pain this time. The throbbing is still intense, though, and Zitao's parting bear-hug reminds Yixing that he's not long stopped feeling really, really sick.
"I do like it, Jongdae. I'm sorry I didn't say that earlier."
Jongdae waves Yixing off and shovels in another mouthful of cereal. Now they're home Yixing can languish as much as he likes, which he's taken to doing by means of stretching his legs over Jongdae's lap and shielding his eyes with a raised arm.
"I didn't think I'd be that bad.. Though after I had the first session of the first one I nearly didn't come back."
Jongdae transfers his bowl of cereal to the other hand so he can reach to give Yixing a pat, fingers cold and damp. "It's ok. Some people just aren't suited to it."
"I'm not suited to it," Yixing confirms with a sigh, then closes his eyes. "It seems like a wasted opportunity, considering I'm with you."
Jongdae hums thoughtfully at that but just takes another mouthful of cereal, continuing to get some sugar in his system after a full day with no lunch break. He's perfectly happy with Yixing the composer. Yixing with an incredibly low pain tolerance. Yixing who's told him how he used to dance, and all Jongdae could do was try to make the reminder that that's no longer viable a little less noticeable. Yixing is far stronger than him in most senses that don't involve showing off under a needle. "If you hadn't come back for your second session I'd have had to chase you up on it," he says after drinking from the edge of the bowl. "I wanted to date you after your consultation, what would I have done without all that time to figure out what to do?"
Yixing doesn't offer a solution. Jongdae drains the last of the sugary milk and then turns to him, only to find Yixing fast asleep, brow still creased. Jongdae won't tease him for being wiped out after less than an hours work, but he can't really make any promises if Zitao starts sniffing around for information tomorrow.
Setting the bowl down, Jongdae very carefully eases Yixing's ankle from his lap so he can turn and squeeze in tight beside him. He's small enough that it doesn't disturb Yixing, being somewhat clambered on. Yixing's ankle will soon stop aching and start itching instead, scab over and be a temptation to fingers feeling around the raised edges. Jongdae offers free touch-ups, but he can't imagine Yixing will be risking needing one.
'Never ever ever again,' is what Yixing had told him (over and over again) on their way home.
Jongdae wraps an arm around his shoulders, colours and lettering and designs spreading with age a contrast to Yixing's pale shirt. He nuzzles against his jaw, drops a kiss to the curve of Yixing's shoulder where the second of his previous tattoos is, then makes himself comfortable there. "Never ever again," he muses in the tone of someone who's absolutely going to make sure it happens again.