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Billy’s heart pounded in his chest and the ceiling above him seemed to swim in and out of view. Teddy’s bed was stable underneath him, the new(ish) mattress and scavenged boxspring solid and comforting, even as his mind whirled.
“If you’re having second thoughts, you shouldn’t go through with it.” Teddy pulled his shorts on, slinging the loose sweats low on his hips. The scarred wings on his back rippled with his movement even more than before, the ethereal colors Tommy had been slowly and steadily inking in turning them into falls of green and gold. There were only a few bare patches left now, the pinion feathers and trailing edges of the wings waiting for their turn. “Even with lasers and shit, ink is essentially forever.”
“I know.” Billy pushed himself up to sitting, the sheet falling down around his hips. The earring that Teddy had set in his ear had been healed for ages now, the memory of that first, intimate rush still burning in his skin when he thought about it. “I’m not having second thoughts.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
It wasn’t like the concept was a new one. Tommy had started turning himself into a coloring book-slash-work of art from the age of fifteen, as highly illegal and ill-advised as some of those early experiments had been. Billy had been there when Teddy straddled Tommy’s work bench, his shirt off and his excitement palpable. Tommy’s concentration had been absolute, his deft fingers moving the needles over Teddy’s scars, the steady dip and wipe of the ink a rhythm that they’d all somehow fallen into. Teddy’s fingers had curled around Billy’s, a dreamy half-there smile on his face, a gently breathing, deathly-still canvas for Tommy’s art.
Billy’d been the one to peel the bandage off hours later, help him wash the red and angry skin, and days later, smooth lotion over the slowly healing arcs and curls of verdant green.
(He’d had the best blow jobs of his life after each of those as well; turned out getting inked made Teddy horny. And generous.)
He knew how this all worked.
It wasn’t the process itself that was making his stomach tie itself in knots, or even the thought of one day having to let his parents know that he’d gone over to the dark side as well. (And I can too be buried in a Jewish cemetery, so don’t start.)
It was the design, the one that he and America had poked at for ages now, her careful lines on the paper somehow surreal when he thought about having them viciously stabbed into his body.
“What if this doesn’t work out?” Billy said softly, cross-legged in the middle of Teddy’s second-hand bed. The curtains were still drawn, the morning sun creeping around the edges, and the sounds of weekend traffic puttering up and down the street outside.
Teddy turned around, his soft, ancient t-shirt clinging to his shoulders and chest. Ink stains spotted it in a handful of places, reminders of previous sessions less permanent than the patterns sitting across his shoulders and his back. “It’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly. “America’s one of the best there is.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
And then Teddy did look concerned, crossing the uneven wooden floor back toward Billy. “Then what do you mean?” He perched on the edge of the bed, his golden hair flopping down over his forehead, silver glinting in his ears, his eyebrow, his lip.
“Us,” Billy confessed, feeling like an idiot even as he said it. “That’s the rule, right? Don’t get anything tattooed on you for a significant other? What happens if I have to get this changed over to ‘Wino Forever’ in five years?”
“Given that my name’s not ‘Winona,’ you’re probably safe on that score,” Teddy answered prosaically. Billy must have made a face that he saw, because he grabbed for Billy’s hand and brought it up to his lips. He brushed his mouth against Billy’s knuckles. His lips soft and the silver and opal labret warm from his body heat. “You can get something else, if you’re worried,” he said after a moment. “Something that’s just for you. Or nothing at all,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll still be dragging you up here after my session to demonstrate the fine art of sucking a ping-pong ball through a garden hose.”
The laughter bubbled up and came out as a snort, no matter how much Billy tried to contain it. “That’s really charming. Very sexy. Do you get a lot of play with lines like that?”
“I’ve got a hot naked man in my bed,” Teddy leered, “so I’d say it’s working pretty well so far.” He lunged and Billy went backwards, half-tackled down until his head hit the pillows again. Teddy sprawled on top of him, his hips nestling comfortably between Billy’s thighs, and his elbows propping him up so they could stay eye to eye. “Seriously,” he said, after he kissed Billy, a long, slow, tender slide of their mouths that made Billy forget what they’d been talking about completely. “I’m ridiculously flattered that you thought about doing this at all. Whether you get it done or decide not to, or pick something else entirely, I won’t care. I’ll still be here. For as long as you want me.”
“In that case, you better settle in for the long haul.” Billy laced his hands behind Teddy’s head and drew him back down for another kiss. They’d only just made love as the sun had been rising, their half-asleep bodies knowing the way to touch and move by pure muscle memory and familiarity, but he could easily be distracted again...
“Down, tiger,” Teddy laughed, nibbling on Billy’s earlobe. “Whether you join us or not, I’m still booked in with Tommy this morning. If I make him wait for me after he got up at nine on a Saturday, he’ll murder me.”
“Spoilsport.” But Billy sighed and let Teddy get up, and even took Teddy’s offered hand and let himself be hauled out of bed. He stumbled into the still-steaming shower in the tiny bathroom and scrubbed down, the sounds of Teddy making coffee enough to pull him out again from under the hot water.
More than coffee waited for him on the rickety formica kitchen table, by the time he’d dressed and towel-dried his hair. Teddy slid a plate piled high with bacon, eggs and sausage under Billy’s nose and pointed at the fork sternly. “Eat.”
“Trying to fatten me up for the sacrifice?”
“Protein and heavy foods before a body mod. It’ll keep your blood sugar stable.”
“Yes, mom.” Billy ducked when Teddy menaced him with the spatula, but a moment later Teddy set an identical mountain of meat in front of his own place. Not a joke or something condescending, then. Billy poked at the eggs, still unsettled, and without answers. “Do you think it will be?”
“Will be what?”
“A bad idea, in a few years. Or will we still be as together and disgusting about it as we are now?”
Teddy put his own fork down, sitting his chin in his hands. “If you’d asked me that a year ago, I’d have said that I don’t know. And that’s honest. But so much has happened, Bee, so many things have changed – this is the first time I’ve lived in one place for longer than six months since my mom died.”
“I know, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s too much to dump on you,” Billy backpedalled, his heart sinking.
“I didn’t say that, either.” Teddy reached across the table and stole a slice of bacon off of Billy’s plate. “It was calling me,” he said by way of explanation, cramming it into his mouth.
A moment later, “I can’t promise forever,” Teddy said slowly, “because sometimes people go away and there’s no way to stop it.” His wistful, sad look just then meant that he was thinking about his parents, so that was alright. That is, it wasn’t as dire as it might have sounded. “But I can promise that as long as I have a choice in the matter, and I’m still breathing, I’ll choose to be with you.”
He lifted his eyes, then, and watched Billy’s reactions with a new and breathtaking intensity.
Don’t fuck this up, Kaplan.
“Aw,” Billy said lightly, but his insides were trembling and if he was a little kid, he could totally be crying right now. Except he wasn’t, so he wouldn’t. Really. “No promises about coming back from the gates of hell for me?”
Teddy snorted. “I don’t know about you, but I’m planning to go the other way. Heaven could use a little shaking up.”
That broke the tension, which made it safe for Billy to drop his fork, reach out and grab Teddy’s hand. “I would, for the record.”
“Would what?”
“Promise, choose you, defy the man downstairs, whatever,” he stumbled over his words. Where was his speaking ability now when he needed it? “I’m getting it,” he said firmly, and Teddy’s fingers squeezed his tightly. “You just better not break up with me after this, or I’ll... put a hex on you or something. I’ll haunt your coffee pots for the rest of your life.”
“I’ve been duly warned.”
A moment later, Teddy grinned. “And by the way? I love you, too.”
--
America was already busy setting up her station by the time they came downstairs, Billy’s nerves making him jittery again. Teddy wandered through, way too calm, considering, and he bumped fists with Tommy when the shop door opened and closed again.
“Is this the last round?” Tommy asked, frowning at him. “This and touch-ups.”
“Last one,” Teddy confirmed, nodding. “You sick of seeing my back already?”
“Just don’t fuck it up before it heals, asshole. I need some decent photos for my portfolio.”
“The brotherly love is just oozing all over the place in here.” America tied back her hair and wrapped a scarf around it, holding it back from her face. Another steri-pad hit the garbage can along with the handful of others she’d been using to wipe down her tools, and she snapped a pair of gloves on over her hands. “We doing this, or what?”
Teddy glanced at Billy, and the promise of forever shone in his eyes.
“Rebecca and Jeff are going to murder you,” Tommy said casually.
“I’m ready.” Billy stripped off the too-big t-shirt that Teddy had loaned him for the day. (“Form fitting is going to make you want to claw your skin off,” he’d said. “Don’t do it.”) and sat down on her bench, facing Tommy’s station. The water flashed cool on his skin as America washed his shoulder, whatever fine hairs that had been on his skin there already shaved off thanks to Teddy’s gentle care that morning.
Teddy was already stripped, his shorts riding low enough on his hips that his wings were completely exposed, and he slung his arms over the high back of the bench.
America was doing something with a deodorant stick and wax paper behind Billy’s arm, the firm pressure on the small patch of skin new and not altogether pleasant.
“Here,” she said after a minute, and handed him a small mirror. Angling it just so caught the other mirror’s frame in his, and the small set of angel’s wings on Billy’s shoulderblade flashed into view. The same shape as Teddy’s, albeit about ten times smaller, and the moment he gave the word they would be etched into his skin forever.
No, not etched. Revealed. Because Teddy was a part of him, and in some strange, perfect way, he always had been.
Billy nodded, flashed a thumbs-up and settled down with his chest against the backrest of America’s bench. The machine’s compressor revved up, and Billy tensed.
Teddy reached out his arm, Tommy setting up behind him with his inks and changes of gloves. They were close enough that Teddy could link one of his fingers in Billy’s, the warmth of his hand a distraction and a focus.
The first pain flashed bright behind his eyes, an electric shock cat scratch that stung and didn’t fade. The warmth began right after that, following the pain and washing it away, a creeping tide of heat that made the persistent scratching nothing more than a faint annoyance. Teddy curled his finger tighter. He was there. And soon enough, Billy would have Teddy right where he belonged, under his skin, forever.