Chapter Text
“Come here often?” Sirius shouted, and his mark shot him such a dismissive look that Sirius resisted the urge to glance in the mirror behind the bar and check that he wasn’t made of chopped liver.
His mark didn’t respond. Fair enough. Sirius found most criminals reluctant to open conversations with strangers.
“So what do you do?” he shouted again, the noise of the bar forcing him to raise his voice. It was a Friday night and crowded. The rock music pounding from the speakers didn’t help.
The man curled his lip at him. He sat on a stool at the end of the bar, shielded by the crush of people by an adjacent wall. Sirius suppressed a grimaced when someone elbowed him in his back.
No response. It didn’t matter. Sirius knew what he did. He dabbled in poison and arson, which Sirius found to be a fascinating mix. Something about purging out evil, but still imbibing it into innocent liquids.
He was a member of a prolific drug gang, ruining the market with a nasty brand of meth, labeled ‘Death Eater’ by some clever marketing. A term they also used to refer to themselves.
He was also a tattoo artist, and Sirius had a consultation booked with him tomorrow.
It was risky to approach beforehand, but Sirius knew it was the right move. Something had to change to break this case.
“Actually, wait, shit, you’re Severus Snape, aren’t you!” Sirius said in marvelous display of faked realization. “Shit, man, I love your work! Actually have a consultation booked with you tomorrow.” He grinned widely, and Snape looked at him like he was an idiot.
“Lovely,” Snape muttered, and Sirius just managed to catch the word.
“C’mon,” Sirius laughed. “Can’t be that bad.”
Snape shot him a look that it could clearly be that bad.
“Shit, man, fine,” Sirius eased. “I’ll leave you to it. Looking forward to tomorrow. Really admire your precision with single needle. I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you use single mag or a round liner?”
“Round liner,” Snape answered snippily. He took a sip of his beer. “Single mags don’t provide the level of control I require.”
“No?” Sirius asked, and he dropped a note of flirtation in his voice. Snape glanced back over at him, and Sirius kept his grin plastered on his face.
“No.” Snape rounded out the sound. He scanned Sirius, and Sirius resisted the urge to fidget. “I never allow myself to be sloppy.” Sirius felt his cheeks warm. Shit, Snape’s gaze was intense.
Snape glanced down at his phone. “I need to leave,” he said shortly. “See you tomorrow” He didn’t wait for a response but pushed his drink back to the bartender and stood.
“Yeah,” Sirius muttered weakly to Snape’s back. “See you tomorrow.”
XXX
The next day, as Sirius sat on the tattoo chair and listened to Snape mock his idea, he wondered how the man could possibly draw business.
Of course, the tattoo shop was a front. Lucius Malfoy, believed to be the influence peddler, sat at the desk, and checked customers in, while fiddling around with the computer. The hit man, Wulfric ‘Wolf’ Mucliber, who specialized in big, bad black and grey tattoos, sat pounding away at some guy’s forearm in the back. Evan Rosier, a tall, skinny man who Sirius could easily push over, was fiddling with the tattoo guns. Rosier ran the drug runs, and he was a slippery bastard.
“I’ll do a skull,” Snape scowled. “None of this bullshit about a fucking dog. Do I look like I tattoo fucking dogs?”
“But I want a dog.”
“Do I look like I give a shit what you want?”
“Fine. A wolf.”
“Oh because you’re some big lone wolf?” Snape mocked.
“Your pal’s got a wolf on his calf,” Sirius said, pointing at Mucliber.
“Well then go fucking ask him.”
Sirius pouted. “But I really like dogs. They’re like my spirit animal. I feel bonded with them.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Fine, what’s your spirit animal?” Sirius shot back, offended.
“I don’t impart human-derived characteristics on animals. Nor do I believe, as man is the true animal, that we should extend our level of brutality to tarnish far less brutal, animalistic creatures.”
“So no dog?”
Snape leaned back in his chair. “No fucking dog.”
“A skull?”
“I’ll do a skull.”
“Skulls are boring.”
Snape whipped his head towards Sirius. “Get out.”
“No, sorry, sorry,” Sirius raised his hands in apology. “Didn’t mean that. Skulls are cool. Just a little common, you know. Lots of skulls out there.”
“Not my skulls.”
“Sure, yeah, of course. How about a lion?”
“Are you stupid or do you need me to write it out for you? No animals.”
“Oh, I got it! Can you do my zodiac sign?” Sirius sniveled, and even though Snape looked prone to murder him, his lips quivered in amusement.
Snape looked very angry at himself for betraying amusement. “Infinity sign while we’re at it?”
Sirius laughed, and Snape gave a small smile, which seemed clearly against his will. “Yeah, perfect.”
“So a skull?”
“Fine a skull,” Sirius relented.
“Good,” Snape gave him a wide smile that was clearly fake. “What a great idea. I love when customers have good taste.”
“Yes, and I just love it when my tattoo artist has impeccable customer service.”
Snape snorted, and Sirius relaxed. Thank God, he thought. The hardest part was over.
“We’ll put it on your shoulder.”
“Great, perfect. Exactly where I wanted it.”
Snape rolled his eyes.
“Don’t worry about showing me a sketch or anything. I’m sure it’ll be exactly what I want.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“Sure hope not,” Sirius said, and he grinned.
XXX
“Three more dead,” Moody glowered. “Three more fucking dead.”
“We believe it was a warning sign,” Kingsley demurred. “To prevent any encroachment on their territory. Two were members of a rival group, and the last--.”
“Was a fucking kid.”
“A kid?” James asked, glancing up from the file. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked inquisitively at Moody. “That’s unusual.”
Kingsley sighed and pinched his nose. “We’re not sure. Maybe the kid got involved or saw something. Still worrying. We can’t afford any more escalation. The streets are already a mess.”
“Was the kid any one of--?”
“Of significance?” Moody growled. James blushed.
“Not meant like that. But will there be repercussions?”
“No,” Kingsley sighed again. “No, it was a street kid. He probably got caught up in more than he should.”
“And the gang members?” Sirius asked, leaning back in the plastic chair.
“Fifth page,” Kingsley answered. Sirius flicked through the file and paused at the pictures. Close-ups on their faces, blood leaking from their eyes. Foam soured their lips. “Another poisoning. Forensic will come back with it, but we believe it will be the same chemical composition. Hemlock, foxglove, and white snakeroot.”
Sirius nodded distantly. He stared hard at the pictures, mind racing. Had to be him, he thought.
Moody slammed his fist onto the table. “And tell me. What. The. Fuck. Are each of you doing to solve this fucking case?”
James rambled on about running through bank accounts, and Sirius sat silently beside him. His shoulder ached from the first round of tattooing, and he resisted the urge to rub at it.
XXX
“So tell me-.”
“No.”
“So tell me,” Sirius tried again without pause, “how did you get into tattooing?”
Snape sat mutely as he pounded ink into Sirius’s shoulder.
“Ok, well then, are you from San Diego originally?”
Snape snorted in a clear no.
“Then how did you get there?”
No response.
“Fine, where are you from then?”
“Did anyone tell you you’re fucking annoying?”
Sirius frowned. “C’mon. I’m just sitting here. At least give me something.”
“Your incessant blabber is disrupting my concentration. Put in some headphones and be quiet.”
“No,” Sirius whined, pulling a glance from Snape. “I’m from San Fran. Originally. But I don’t like it there. And my family fucking sucks.”
“So you fled to San Diego?”
“Travelled for a bit, but yeah. Like the surfing. Good weather, you know who can complain?”
“San Diego is a hellhole.”
Sirius laughed, and Snape glared at him as his shoulder shook. “Shit, sorry,” Sirius apologized.
“Keep talking, and I’ll fuck up your tattoo.”
“No, you won’t. You’re too good.”
Snape seemed like he wanted to snap back an insult, but the compliment kept him quiet.
“I’m from New Mexico,” Snape said, and Sirius’s chest warmed. Good, he thought. Give me more.
“Where in New Mexico?”
“Bumfuck nowhere.”
“So what you came to San Diego for the weather?”
Snape shrugged. “It made sense.”
“Do you like living here?” Sirius asked gently.
Snape snorted. “Who does? But better than the fucking middle of nowhere. Now be quiet and let me tattoo.”
Sirius relented for a moment, but he couldn’t help but ask: “So the tattooing?”
Snape sighed and looked like he was about to pinch the bridge of his nose until he realized he was wearing gloves. “You really won’t give this up will you? Fine, I liked to draw as a kid. When everything turned to shit, as everything tends to, I somehow got involved with the tattooing world, and it saved my life.” He leaned back and dabbed the pen into the ink well. “There’s something beautiful about creating permeance that only death can destroy. Good enough for you?”
“Yeah, good enough for me,” Sirius replied quietly, mulling over the beauty of the words.
“Good. Now be quiet and sit still.”
XXX
That night, Sirius flipped through the stack of files again. He knew the details by heart; he had been working on this case for two years, so he was more than familiar with M.O.s and the various players.
Mulciber, the muscles. A few small charges for aggression, but nothing they’ve been able to pin down on him.
Evans, the runner. He moved the drugs and was as slippery as a bastard as Sirius had ever seen.
Malfoy, the accountant. He laundered money like no one’s business. The tattoo shop was their main front, but the amount of money they brought in made it nearly inconceivable that Malfoy didn’t have plenty of tricks up his sleeve.
Bast and Dolph Lestrange. The brothers and believed to be the head of operations. If anyone knew where all the bodies were buried, it was them.
Snape, the assassin. The quiet killer, all fire and poison. He was the one they used to inspire fear, to turn death into warnings. The one Sirius thought he could get closest too. The one Sirius thought he could get to turn.
And then, the kingpin. Voldemort was the only name Peter managed to grab before his cover was blown and his head was promptly blown up by one of the brothers. Their intelligence on him was so scarce that the man seemed more like a ghost. Sirius was hoping Snape could get him closer, because grabbing Voldemort meant the toppling of the entire Death Eaters operations and the implosion of their drug ring.
Up to now, all of them had been slippery as snakes. Impossible to catch, despite Sirius’s and his team’s best efforts. That was why Sirius had decided to play by a different set of rules. No more clean ethical lines of investigation. Too many had died for that.
It was time to get dirty, whatever the hell that happened to entail.
XXX
The tattoo took two weeks, and when it was done, Sirius asked Snape out for a drink.
“I always buy my tattoo artists a drink!” Sirius proclaimed, slapping Snape on his back. “It’s the least I can do for a fucking sick tat.” He turned to the mirror to admire the skull. Admittedly, it was a really nice tattoo, even if a dog would have been better. Sirius was glad he wouldn’t have to regret it.
“I don’t drink,” Snape answered dryly.
Sirius laughed. “Sure, Micky’s at eight?”
“Nine.”
“Alright, see you then. Don’t be late.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Snape growled, and Sirius kept eye contact with him until Snape looked away. “And don’t you dare fuck up aftercare. I’m not having you coming crying back to me because your arm hurts.”
Sirius saluted him. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll start aftercare right after I go surfing this afternoon.”
To Sirius’s amusement, a vein twitched at Severus’s temple.
“Please don’t make me regret this.”
Sirius grinned, “Oh you won’t regret it baby,” and he dropped the baby so casually as if he referred to everyone like that, but he saw Snape freeze at the word. It wasn’t time to push the issue, Sirius knew, so he left with a short goodbye.
Tonight, Sirius would push it. It was make or break, but there was no other option. He needed to gain Snape’s trust, and Sirius didn’t particularly dread showing Snape all the ways he was able to inspire trust.
It was just a matter, Sirius thought, of getting the man to fall in love with him, but Sirius knew, if there was one thing, he was good at it, it was getting people in bed and breaking their hearts.