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“What fresh hell are you two up to?”
The lanky teen in the beanie stood in the doorway of his best friend and boyfriend’s bedroom to find him lying face down on the floor, ass bare, with their other best friend hovering a hand at the ready with a needle. A small jar of black India ink sat open on the carpet.
“Oh hiya Double Dee,” Ed smiled innocently.
“This most certainly doesn’t look like your history presentation.”
“Very perceptive, babe. What does it look like?” Eddy sarcastically taunted as he got up on his elbows and dramatically batted his eyelashes.
“Don’t get funny with me, mister,” huffed Edd as he dropped his book bag on the floor, “and it looks like a mistake waiting to happen.”
Beside their slapdash tattooing setup was smoking paraphernalia, evidently already put to use from the acrid smell that clung to the air in spite of a paper-towel sploof thrown in the mix.
“Actually it’s a hot cherry.”
“Pardon?” Edd barked in response to Ed not so politely.
“Spicy on the outside sweet on the inside,” Ed clarified as he raised a crumbled page of sketch pad with a simple line drawing of a pair of cherries set ablaze. Edd’s eyes shifted from the page to Eddy’s buttocks where the image had been transferred with red marker. It appeared that he arrived in the knick of time: no punctures or pricks had been made yet.
“Stop reading into it so much, Lumpy. I picked it ‘cause it’s sexy.”
Every nerve in Edd’s body was still screaming as his vision bounced from the open ink jar sitting precariously on the exposed carpet, Ed’s bare hands smudged with drawing media, Eddy’s exposed buttocks, two open bags of chips and a half eaten jar of room-temperature queso, the subpar lighting…
No. This wasn’t happening, not like this. Edd took a few steps back towards the door.
“Stay! Don’t you - either of you - move a single muscle until I get back. You hear me?”
The seriousness of Edd’s tone seemed to sober up his friends just enough for Ed to complacently nod in agreement.
“Whereya goin’?” Eddy wined, turning onto his side.
“Five minutes, Eddy. Can you do that?” Edd pleaded, equally as stern. Eddy just blinked slowly as he tried to make sense of Edd’s intentions. He was at a loss.
“Sure. Whatever.”
And he was out the back door, zipping past the window in a flash as he broke into a run through Eddy’s yard. As Eddy and Ed waited for Double Dee to return, Eddy drew figure eights in the carpet with his finger and Ed watched mesmerized.
“Ya think Double Dee would wanna see the Sheldon and Sheldon Jr. tattoos I put on my foot?”
“Based on that response, I think you’d give him a coronary.”
“Like royalty?”
“Yeah, and you’re the jester.”
The two were startled when the door clicked and swung open. Standing in it was Double Dee, his hot breath condensing from the cold air, with a doctor bag grasped in his right hand. Closing the door, kicking his shoes off, Edd trudged over to his friends and got down on his knees. Opening the bag he produced a box of nitrile gloves, single use packets of antiseptic wipes, ointments, bandages, sanitary towels, a headlamp, and a rectangular enamel tray.
He layed a sheet of bench liner that came from his long forgotten “Dissection for Gifted Children” kit down on the carpet, placed the tray on it, and then arranged the ink bottle, unopened needle packets, and some of his own supplies inside in perfectly pristine order. As he worked, he silently huffed, hummed, and sighed. When he finally spoke, it came as a firm command.
“Wash your hands, Ed. With soap and hot water, please.”
Not wasting time, fully at attention, Ed hurried to Eddy’s bathroom.
“Ah I see. So you’re not gonna stop me.”
“Please, Eddy, I know you. If you want to do something there is no stopping you. I don’t care about the tattoo, I’m worried about you getting an infection. Now turn over onto your stomach.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddy replied eagerly, sort of liking Edd’s domineering tone, and did as he was told. He hadn’t bothered to pull his pants back over his left cheek anyway. As Eddy talked, Edd yanked at the waistband of his shorts, “Jeez, if you wanted me out of my pants so bad you could just a- AAH COLD!”
“Stop wiggling,” Edd grinned despite himself after swiping the alcohol wipe against his boyfriend’s ass cheek.
“Stop icing me!”
“You’re good,” a hand playfully smacked down on Eddy’s backside and both teens chuckled.
“You're better,” Eddy smirked at Double Dee. Through his semi-stoned heavy eyelids, Eddy gave him a look that Edd could recognize as genuine admiration. Edd’s body filled with warmth as he smiled back.
“I’m the best.”
He leaned in and caught Eddy’s lips in a kiss. Ed opened the door to the bathroom and chuckled.
“Ew. Cooties.”
“Here, Ed. Quick! Put these gloves on. We wouldn’t want you catching any of the highly infectious Cootie virus.”
“Glove me, Doc!”
Once the gloves were snapped onto his hands, the headlamp put on his head and turned on, Edd continued to instruct the next steps in the procedure. With a new, completely sanitized needle prepared it was time to start putting ink to skin.
Edd first felt the tickle of Eddy’s fingertips skim his arms, wrist, and then go to envelope his hand. He happily took the larger and somewhat rougher hand with its tiny scars into his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Eddy squeezed back even harder as Ed jabbed the first few pokes into his posterior.
“Now, Eddy, can you summarize for me the landmark Supreme Court decisions of the 20th century?”