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“Okay, lemme see your deck again,” Ronan said, slamming the BMW door behind him and hopping onto the concrete walkway in front of the the strip center. Adam followed him, lazy and easy and happy, and spread his deck over the warm hood of the car. “No, face up,” Ronan ordered, and Adam scooped them back up and flipped them over.
“This defeats the purpose of drawing a card,” Adam said drily, leaning into Ronan’s side as Ronan reached out to pluck the Magician from where it was stuffed between the Emperor and the Lovers. He tapped the edge of the card against the hood and held it up for Adam to look at. “I know what it looks like,” he assured with a half grin. “I know it’s your favorite.” He gathered the cards up again and Ronan finally handed over the card. Adam placed it back to back with the deck and a thrum of energy ran up his arm pleasantly before he replaced the deck in his back pocket.
“You’re gonna look so hot, babe,” Ronan said, walking on Adam’s good side, which meant he was between Adam and the buildings, which meant he kept Adam from detouring into his favorite tarot shop.
“I’m so nervous I think I’m gonna vomit,” Adam answered.
“Hope you’re not getting it on your stomach, then.”
Adam didn’t answer and he felt Ronan’s eyes flicker over to him but he still didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, you better not get one on your stomach. I may break up with you.”
“It’d be awful of you to essentially brand me and then leave me on our anniversary,” Adam finally said, rolling his eyes.
“Letting you choose your own tattoo and shit isn’t the same as branding you. It’s not my fault if you wanna put my face on your body. Can’t blame you, but it’s not my fault.”
Adam snorted and elbowed Ronan’s ribs before they came up on the new tattoo shop. Adam had liked the feel of it as soon as he’d gone in out of curiosity when it opened and one of the artists had worked with the guy who’d done Ronan’s tattoo. They’d watched it for a while and Ronan got too invested in everyone who worked there and the art was good and a late night bad idea had turned into anniversary gifts. If it could be considered a gift when they were each paying for their own.
The only catch was, they’d been working on it for three weeks and hadn’t told each other anything about their tattoos. Adam definitely worried about his own tattoo but he couldn’t begin to imagine what Ronan was planning to add to his sprawling masterpiece. He was so fond of it the way it was, that the thought of it changing made his heart ache.
When their respective artists came out, Adam found his fingers clenching around Ronan’s in a moment of childish selfishness and fear. The artist Adam had been working with--Mae--smiled gently. “You know, you could always just sit with each other,” she suggested. “I have my next slot open too. I could wait.”
“Get fucked,” Ronan said and Adam pretended like he didn’t notice all the bravado in his voice as they shook their hands apart. “We said we were doing it this way. We’re doing it this way.”
“He just doesn’t want anyone to talk him out of his tatt,” Ronan’s artist said. “It’s pretty out there.”
“If you make my boyfriend puke, I’ll kick your ass,” Ronan warned.
“If Devon gave his blessing, how bad can it be?” Mae said, for Adam’s benefit. When the guy who’d done Ronan’s original tattoo had given his own for this guy to do the addition, half of Adam’s worries had disappeared. Well, until this afternoon when they’d piled into the car and it all became much more real.
Adam took a deep breath and his worries were side tracked as Ronan reached over to muss his hair roughly and then grinned at him. “Catch you later, handsome.”
“Only if you’re lucky,” Adam responded with his own grin. They knocked their fists together and Adam followed Mae back to her work space.
“Alright, Adam, you can leave your jeans over there. Didn’t I tell you to wear sweats?” she asked as she prepared her space.
“Yeah, but it would’ve given it away,” Adam said with a shrug. “I told you, I can handle pain and irritation. We’re not that far from y’all anyway. I’ll change when I get home.”
Mae hummed and tossed Adam what looked like a sock. “Put it on now,” she suggested. “We’re gonna have to get pretty far down your groin and I don’t want you fumbling with it while there’s ink on you.”
Adam stared at it for a second and felt a jolt of regret. But he shook it off and reached into his boxers to fit the not-sock over his length. It was awkward and heavy but welcome. He wanted to be the cool suave guy who didn’t care what people saw, but he was decidedly not that guy and he really liked Mae, so keeping her sanity intact was important to him too.
He hopped up on the chair when Mae motioned for him to and pushed his boxers down as far as he was willing to. “I’m gonna shave you first,” Mae explained, not for the first time. “And then sterilize the area. No need to jump yet.”
And, really, by the time it was all said and done, the pain was no more than he was used to. Just a bit sharper and longer laster. Some spots hurt worse than others, but he’d been prepared for that. Mae had really, really, really tried to talk him out of his placement for a first tattoo, but it was the only one he was getting and it meant something and he wanted it where he wanted it. Which, he guessed, Mae understood because she didn’t argue with him again after that.
She did snigger when he didn’t bother trying to button his jeans though, which he defended with an exasperated, “How was I supposed to know?!” and wave of his arm, to which she responded by handing over an aftercare book and sending him back to Ronan’s waiting arms in the parlor.
They lasted eighteen hours before they were pulling each other’s clothes off under the guise of helping put cream and ointments and new bandages on. Adam found the mess of bandages on Ronan’s side, just below his ribs, wrapping around his waist. When he uncovered it, he found more black ink in bold strokes, like the rest of his tattoo. At first, Adam thought there was only more vines, intricate roots continuing from the tree, but once his eyes adjusted, he realized it was a man--a magician.
“Is this my card?” he asked, ghosting his fingers featherlight over the tattoo.
Ronan still sucked in a soft breath, though it was up for debate if he was in pain or if it was the normal way he gasped any time Adam was near him. “Yeah, it’s your Magician,” he said. “ My magician.”
Adam was wrong, it wasn’t just black. There were faint green lines, so immediately different from the rest of the tattoo that Adam couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it. They made vines tumbling out of the Magician’s hands, pooling around his feet and sneaking into the rest of the tattoo.
When Adam traced them, Ronan said, “Because you’re interwoven with me. All of me.”
“Not going anywhere,” Adam promised, leaning up to kiss Ronan.
Ronan found Adam’s bandages when his hands went to Adam’s hips and he barely paused before hoisting Adam up to carry him towards the bed and dump him backwards onto it, much to Adam’s fond delight. Ronan crawled over his thighs and leaned down to kiss his way down Adam’s chest to his stomach as his hands gently pulled at the sweats he’d been living in.
Ronan’s mouth suddenly leaving the flushed skin of Adam’s lower abdomen had the man keening in response, legs pushing against the cool sheets of their bed helplessly. “Ro,” he whined and turned his face towards his arm, fingers tightening in his own hair.
“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Parrish,” Ronan breathed, fingers brushing the clean edges of Adam’s hips, away from his tattoo.
Adam lifted his head lazily, gazing down at the span of his body. The critical gaze he’d cultivated as a lonely teenager had been washed away years ago by a habit of looking at his body the way Ronan might be seeing it. Right now, it looked like familiar tan skin, cuts of muscle, scars that he was beginning to look over without pausing. Then, at his hips, a bouquet of color.
Bouquet was the proper term too. Blooming over his hip bones and continuing down his adonis lines were stalks of lavender, bushels of baby’s breath, and rich green vines with thick ivy leaves. Even through the bruising, the colors were exactly how he wanted them to be.
"When I gave myself over to Cabeswater, my nightmares got worse. But Cabeswater was always there to soothe the tension almost immediately. I'd get wrapped up in the forest and always the first thing it held were my hips, to keep me still, I guess. And my hips are always the first thing you grab too, whether it's falling in bed or being jolted awake in the middle of the night. So I wanted to remember that. Even when I'm waking up alone, I have magic. I have you."
Ronan’s thumb glanced over one side of the tattoo and he let out a shaky breath, hungry eyes flicking between the tattoo and Adam’s face.
“You really know a thing or two about product placement, huh?” he asked and Adam laughed breathlessly, throwing his arm over his eyes.
“Just kiss me, asshole.”
And Ronan did.