Work Text:
Leading up to this moment, you could say you’ve made some questionable choices in your life. Only a handful of which you could proudly claim to have had positive outcomes. Despite all of that, there were points you felt as though you had no control over how your life was. Like it was something you watched from outside your own body.
So you went to a tattoo shop.
It was just a consultation, pretty much meant you weren’t going to get the tattoo that day. Which in a way you were thankful for that because part of you already knew that you were going to need more confidence than you had today to sit through the whole process.
The idea of a tattoo was something you contemplated for years. It was the perfect way to prove you have control over your own life. Over all the outcomes, performances, and decisions of it all. It was your life.
The shop was called Beskar And Sword . It was across town and run by the local speeder gang. Despite the reputation the Mandalorians (the gang in question) had, the shop had outstanding reviews. You had seen some of the work they had done first hand through some friends. You knew that if you wanted art permanently inked into skin, it would be theirs.
When you entered, it was surprisingly quiet except for the rock music softly playing through the speakers and the sounds of talking on the other side of the stained glass wall. There were pictures hanging up of tattoo designs on one wall along with records and old movie posters. The stained glass wall was of a mythosaur which you knew was a symbol of their gang.
A muscular man sat behind the counter reading a comic book. He looked up at you when the bell signaled your entry. He smiled welcomely, much more so than you were expecting.
“Welcome, how can I help you today?” His voice was rough in the same way your voice gets after screaming.
“I have a consultation.” You told him your name as he opened up a schedule book. His eyes searched the page before he pointed at it.
“Looks like you got Din.” The man raked his eyes over you. Your brightly colored outfit standing out against the darker tones of the shop. “I think he’ll like you.” Before you could question what that meant, he gestured to you to follow him behind the curtain on the other side of the counter. You followed behind as you chewed on your bottom lip.
The room was an open design with one corner that had a curtain set up, most likely for people getting more intimate tattoos or piercings. There were three desks littered around the room next to tattooing stations. Each station was decorated differently, showcasing the personality of the artist who made home there.
“Djarin, your five o’clock is here.” The man you followed called out with a teasing lilt to the group of people playing poker, two men and a woman. The man with brown hair and scruff looked up from his cards, his dark eyes going straight to you. He gave you a crooked smile before walking over to you, extending his hand out.
“I’m Din, I’ll be working with you today.” You shook his hand and softly introduced yourself. He walked over to a desk in the corner where two bar stools sat, you close behind. It was far enough away from the group that they wouldn’t hear what you would say but they could easily see you. And did they see you.
The trio openly stared at you next to Din and it unnerved you. It wasn’t the kind of stare people gave outsiders nor could you claim that it was malevolent. They seemed to just know something you didn’t and wanted to see it play out.
“Have a seat.” Din pulled the free stool closer to his. When you sat, your knee pressed into his. “Okay so tell me about this tattoo idea you had.” You picked at the hem of your sweater while you thought of how exactly to word it. Din sat patiently as he prepped some paper.
“Growing up my dad would take me hiking all the time out of the distinct lines.” You looked up to see Din watching you intently, like he had waited ages for you to talk to him. “We used to hide this one stick on the other side of the fence so we could use it every time we went out.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out a folded up photo. Din gently took the photo from you, unfolding it to stare at the creased image. “I wanted to get that stick tattooed on me.”
“I can do that for you.” He set the photo down in front of him. “Was there any other design aspect you wanted on it.” Din turned in the stool, letting both of his knees knock against yours.
“I want some foliage surrounding it.”
He nodded before turning around and picking up a stylus. You watched his hand as he drew confident lines on the paper. It was as though he only gained confidence in being watched while you sunk in on yourself when you noticed people watching you draw in public.
“So what do you do?” You startled at his voice, expecting him to need silence while he worked.
“I’m in college right now but I also work at the local gallery…”
“That’s so cool. What do you do there?”
“I… um… fill out papers mostly about the condition of paintings.” Din peeked over at you from his peripheral. “It’s just a lot of paper.”
“Doesn’t make it any less cool. Unless you don’t like your job-“
“I love my job.” You interrupted him. “Sorry.” Looking away from him, you looked at the drawings hung around his desk. Most of it seemed to be different kinds of client work. One drawing in particular caught your eye. It was on the other side of him and the corner of it was obstructed by him. But what you saw was enough to know.
It was… you? At least it looked like it was you. You stared at it, not hearing him ask a question until he cleared his throat. Your eyes met his as he stared at you quizzically.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were an artist or just admired it.” He turned back to the paper allowing you to let your eyes drift back over his arm.
“I’m an artist,” you mumbled out. “Have we met before?” Din looked up at you startled when you asked.
“No we haven’t. Why?”
“Because that’s me, isn’t it?” He spun around, yanking the drawing off the wall before shoving it into a drawer. His hands stayed against the desk as through it would pop back open and expose him further. Din squeezed his eyes as his face reddened. “I’m sorry if we met and I don’t recognize-“
“We never met.” He cut you off, his voice slightly more high pitched than it was. On the other side of the room, you could hear quiet laughter. “At least, never formally.”
You blinked at him as he ran a hand down his face while sighing. Din opened the drawer back up before handing you the drawing. Looking at the full piece, you recognized it as your usual spot in the cafe by your work. On almost every lunch break you had, you went there to eat and draw. From the pose, it looked like you were drawing.
The lines were carefully drawn in pencil, some of the graphite lighter than the rest. The details were precise, something someone would’ve had to spend hours on to get so accurate. At the bottom of the page, it was dated two weeks ago.
You tried to remember seeing him there but your mind blanked. If he was there then you hadn’t noticed him which is surprising considering he’s a pretty tall guy. Tall, board… really handsome.
“I understand if you want another artist…” Din trailed off, staring down at the desk as he twirled the stylus in his hand. You looked down at the half finished sketch. It was beautiful even though it was incomplete. It had everything you could want on you.
“I don’t but I do have a question.” He nodded slowly, looking at your through his lashes.
“How long did it take you to draw this?” You handed the paper back to him. Din happily accepted it and tacked it back to the wall.
“A week give or take.” He noticed how confused you were. “I usually sit in the back by the bookcase.” You let out a soft song of recognition. “I noticed you there before and I thought you were just so beautiful that I had to draw you… I’m sorry that’s so weird.”
You laughed out loud. Din looked at you confused as you held a hand over your mouth. After a few seconds, you calmed down. Shaking your head, you said, “Din, I’m an artist too. I have many sketches of pretty strangers in my sketchbook too.” Though he was still sheepish, he nodded before going back to the sketch.
A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you watched him work again. Din had strong hands, capable hands. The kind of hands that you could see empires fall under but also the hands that gentled you down after a nightmare. His side profile was strong, angular, and truthfully something you would like to draw one day. With a smile, you spoke up.
“You’re very beautiful too, Din.” The stylus nearly dropped out of his as he stuttered through a ‘thank you’. “Maybe one day, you’ll let me draw you.”
Din looked up at you with wide eyes. His mouth opening and closing before he loudly gulped. “I-“ It came out squeaky. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we can make it a date? You draw me, I draw you.” His hands rubbed up and down his denim clad thighs.
“I would love that. Maybe after the tattoo appointment so I’m not your client anymore.”
“Yeah… that would be nice.” Din turned back to the sketch with a goofy smile on his face. Over his shoulders, you noticed the men and woman looking at you. The man who was at the counter gave you a thumbs up. Maybe they could hear you after all.