Work Text:
“Would you let me tattoo you?”
Kazuha blinked, looking up at the sudden question, confused at the non-sequitur. Scara simply stared right back at him, unblinkingly persistent.
“Weren’t you just complaining about some of the stupid things your clients ask about piercings? What the hell brought this on?”
“Oh my god, just- answer the question!” Kazuha peeked at one of Scara’s exposed ears, watching the shell bloom red. His best friend may have been blessed with the best poker face known to man, but also cursed with ears that betrayed him every time, much to his chagrin.
Kazuha shuffled in his seat, lips turning up in amusement.
“Probably, yeah.” Kazuha shrugged, going back to his poem. What the hell rhymed with wind and would even fit together with his theme at the same time?
“Just like that? No questions asked?”
This time, Kazuha set his pen down, swivelling around to properly face Scara, frowning at his interrogation. “Dude. I’ve known you since we were, like, what, six or seven? And been friends with you for like fourteen years now. Are you really asking me if I trust you?”
“Plus,” he added, rolling his eyes, “wouldn’t be the first time you stabbed me.”
“Just say that I’ve pierced your ears for you, dumbass.” Scara shot back, ears turning even redder, the flush creeping down to his neck.
“Close enough~” He reaches up to play with the little maple studs adorning his ears, a gag gift from Scara before he’d even had piercings. “Can I at least know what you’re gonna do on me?”
“No.”
Kazuha gaped at him, indignance rising as Scara laughed.
“Isn’t like…the whole premise of them being like…permanent??” He stumbled out, blinking rapidly as the cogs in his head turned, trying to handle the sudden bomb dropped on his sanity.
He wondered if he should bring Scara to get his head checked out for brain damage when he laughed even harder.
“Yeah? Surprise tattoos aren’t rare, y’know? Like those lucky draw ones you’ve seen the shop do.” Scara wipes a stray amused tear away, still chuckling a little. “Though I’ll make a custom for you based on what you like. So…not completely random. Better?”
“Well, why not then?”
“Huh?” Scara froze, just staring in shock.
“Well, first of all, you know me well.” Kazuha made an entire show out of counting reasons on his fingers. “Second of all, I trust you and have been stabbed by you before.”
He pointedly ignored Scara’s protests, continuing with the third reason. “And third of all, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“Did you-you actually mean that or was that like you threatening to…to sic your cat and Tama on me when we went back to see my parents?” Kazuha laughed so hard it hurt his cheeks and stomach as Scara sighed, rolling his eyes.
Kazuha had strolled into the shop early, only to find Scara and a familiar shock of ginger hair in a heated debate about something stupid, Scara threatening to spike his soda with laxatives if he wouldn’t shut up and give the rest of the artists their peace. Kazuha never understood how the shop got anything done with both of them working almost the same hours.
Then again he’d been like that with Scara, pestering each other constantly when they were still in school and groaning about homework, and they somehow always got it all done so he supposed he couldn’t comment on it.
“I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.” Scara huffed, shaking his head at the stupid memory of his co-worker as he grabbed his ink cups, ready to fill them with all the colours he needed. Not that Kazuha knew what they were going to be used for. Scara had been remarkably tighter-lipped than usual, even going so far as to keep his sketchbook and other drawing stuff under lock and key when he wasn’t around.
Hell, he even hid the stencil when Kazuha came in! Kazuha cursed his foresight, frustrated at the suspense.
“Are you still not telling me what you’re literally gonna be drawing on me?” Kazuha pouted, turning to his trademark puppy eyes, with the blinks! “Come on, I’m your best friend! Tell me please~”
Scara levelled an unimpressed look, eyes narrowing as he snapped the rubber gloves on.
“If you wanted a cone of shame and not the blindfold that I so graciously prepared, you could’ve just told me, y’know?” He grinned lazily, the grin growing wider as he took in Kazuha’s look of horror.
“You wouldn’t. You’re messing with me again.”
“I would. Try me.”
The thing is, Kazuha knew he would do it. He had enough materials to literally make a cone of shame on the spot, and wouldn’t hesitate. Bastard.
“...I’ll take the goddamn blindfold.” He sulked, snatching up the eye mask from the little desk in the corner, grumpily stalking back to the chair and flopping onto it, the fake leather of it squeaking in protest at the sudden addition. “We’re at least sticking with the placement, right?”
Scara’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly as he scoffed. “No, I’ve suddenly reworked the entire thing to be a sleeve and not a hip piece- Of course we’re sticking with the placement, dumbass. Left side of your torso, rib cage to hip at max, right? Don’t tell me you changed your-”
“No, I’m still sure.” He blinks up at Scara, eyes wide and curious as he watches him fiddle with his headband to get the spotlight centred and in place. “I trust you.”
“Of course you trust me, why else would you allow me to repeatedly stab you with needles?” Scara fires back, but Kazuha allows him the satisfaction of a closing statement when he sees the pierced shell of his ear turn the same red as the streak in Kazuha’s hair, just like the other day.
Pushing down the urge to tease him, Kazuha sighs, slipping off his shirt and haphazardly draping it on the desk chair, walking over to the actual chair Scara uses for his piercing or tattoo appointments. Still valiantly trying to get a clue on the design, he tries to sneak a peek at the ink cups, only to groan at the obstructed view with just the black ink visible.
“Nice try.” Scara puffs out a laugh, amused. “Don’t tell me you’re still trying to get a peek.”
“You literally won’t even let me have a hint…” Kazuha whines, grumpily snapping on the blindfold. “Warn me before you start.”
With his sight taken away, his other senses heightened as if to compensate for the loss. The fake leather of the chair felt cool against his back, and he could hear the faint buzzing of the machines from the other tattoo artists
in the shop as well as Scara padding around his workspace.
He felt and heard the stencil being prepared, feeling his skin being cleaned and the paper touching his skin. Holding his breath, he stayed as still as possible so that the stencil wouldn’t move, only relaxing when he felt it get peeled off, the squeal of wheels sounding out as Scara moved around.
“Touching you in three, two, one.” Scara drawled, still endlessly amused as Kazuha felt the warm rubber of his gloved hand on his waist. “Still good? Feel the need to back out?”
“You’ve only got the damn stencil on. The machine isn’t even on.”
Scara hummed. “Doesn’t answer my question.”
“Still good.”
“Good. Starting now?”
Kazuha just hummed his assent, bracing himself for the pain-
.
.
.
Only to feel more of a scratching sensation. He wouldn’t even call it painful, just annoying.
Did that bastard just-
“Forgot to tell you,” Even deprived of his sight, he knew Scara was grinning simply from the way he spoke. “It’ll feel like something's pricking you, and maybe scratching. Ask for breaks if you need. Ribs hurt like a bitch so consider yourself warned. Don’t move because I can and will strap you down.”
“You’re a fucking menace.” He sulked, brows pinched. “Not even telling me anything about it.”
“I’d like to say that I always believed experience was the best teacher.” Scara sassed back, amusement positively dripping from his tone. Smug bastard.
Kazuha grumbled his curses and complaints, irritably focusing on the ambient sounds around him. Not like he had anything else he could really do. Other than let out a hiss every now and then because goddamn, going over ribs really did hurt.
“Need a break? Keep the blindfold on though, you’re gonna ruin the surprise if it gets off.”
“Mhm.” Kazuha frowned, stretching once he felt the rubbery touch leave him, wincing when he heard his back pop.
“Getting old?” Scara teased. “Must be getting closer to the grave, hm? You sound like the back door of this shop.”
Kazuha gave a half-hearted swat behind him, complaining under his breath. “You say that like you don’t groan like an old man every single goddamn time you get up.”
He heard Scara snort, yelping when he felt a hard pinch on his hip. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“Brat.” Scara snipped, tone edging into a fake offended one. “You insulted my youth, of course I had to. How else will you learn to actually respect people?”
“I’ll learn to respect you when pigs fucking fly. I already respect everyone else.”
“Remind me why everyone likes you even though you’re a brat?”
“Are you actually done yet or trying to waste more of your time?” Kazuha complained, changing the subject and grinning once he heard Scara’s annoyed huff.
“I’d be almost done if you decided to stop being a little shit for once and actually behaved. Now shut the fuck up unless you wanna have to come by again next week to finish it.”
Kazuha bit back a retort, chewing on his lip as Scara started the machine up again, feeling the pain of the needles against his ribs.
This was gonna take a while.
Kazuha groaned, yawning as the machine shut off again.
“Fallen asleep, Sleeping Beauty?” Hah, he called it. “Don’t tell me you got so used to the needles and fell asleep.”
“You try sitting still like this for like three hours.” He mumbled, half-heartedly retorting, stretching out his limbs and back, arching like a cat. “I think my everything fell asleep.”
“So you admit you did.”
“Fuck off, no I didn’t.”
Scara simply yanks off the eye mask in lieu of a response, Kazuha hissing at the sudden burst of light, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes, sputtering curses and indignant protests.
“A warning would’ve been nice!”
“Oops. Sorry.” Scara apologised, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Kazuha squinted at him, puffing his cheeks in annoyance. “And shoo. You wanted to see the tattoo so bad, so shoo.”
Eyes wide, Kazuha scurried over to the mirror propped in the corner of the workspace, stumbling in his haste to finally get to see the surprise, letting out a tiny gasp when he saw the art now permanently etched on his skin.
A little cat in an orange scarf batted around some maple leaves, little paws outstretched as if to catch them as the wind blew them around. The maple tree itself grew up his side, the crown of it etched on his ribs, and the base of it just above his hip, the leaves fluttering down, blowing towards his navel.
He knew Kazuha missed his childhood cat back in his hometown. He knew that he was the first one to get excited when the leaves started to change colour. He knew he still kept the ratty orange scarf that once belonged to his father and refused to throw it away even if it was barely clinging onto life.
Without a word, he turned to face Scara, still frozen from the surprise of it all, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to thank him, wanted to tease him about only listening to his complaints, wanted to ask how the hell he
knew all these tiny details. If only his throat would kindly get itself unstuck so he could actually talk-
Scara puffed out an amused laugh, making Kazuha’s life easier by striding over, arms awkwardly coming up for the shortest hug he’d ever received. “Come on now, you’re ugly when you cry. Sober up and thank me properly another time. I expect dinner at the very least.”
“I can’t believe you.” Kazuha hiccupped, an odd mix between laughter and tears. “You- you literally- you seriously had to make me cry and then call me ugly?”
“If the shoe fits.” He paused as if he wanted to add on.
“I hope it lived up to your expectations.”
“Asshole. Of course it did. I love it. Thank you.”