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They had called in a week before, but it still makes Livio uneasy when he doesn’t have to turn on his blinker to pull into the parking lot of the bakery. That long-lasting sensation deep in his stomach that he’s doing something wrong, that he’s going to get caught, has been building up since Vash had tossed a “I’ll pencil you in” over his shoulder, laughing tinny and harmonious with the bell over the shop door.
Needles and Knives was two blocks down from the bakery. Both shops were a long street that housed boutiques with small pride flags stuck to the windows and farmers markets on Thursday mornings. It was a cute place, most of the time it felt safe and welcoming. Livio was reminded of a video he saw while scrolling through his phone waiting for someone to walk into the store when he first started working there (should he have been on his phone at all? Probably not). A rehabilitated leopard was introduced to its new habitat, but it refused to come out of the cage it was brought in for hours before starting to explore. Living there, living sorta-alone in his own apartment, it felt like that.
Pull over.
Livio knows well enough that it’s more of a question than anything.
Why? We’re fine.
Riiight. Not shakin’ like a leaf or anything. We’re doin’ great.
Mmmhm. Swell, even.
Peachy.
Maybe not “peachy”. That’s pushing it.
He does eventually stop the car, in the parking lot behind a brick building painted red and black. It stands out hard between the hip brewery on one side and the mom and pop craft store on the other. There goes pretending like he couldn’t find the place.
Livio was working register when a flurry of red and black had all barreled into the place, frazzled and loud in a way that made him start to feel the corners of his consciousness get a little fuzzy, Razlo bristling at the sudden change in volume. The flurry had introduced himself before even ordering as Vash and that Livio’s tattoo on the side of his face was “fucking sweet”, he co-owned the tattoo and piercing parlor down the way with his twin and he didn’t know the bakery was hiring because he would’ve picked up a second job there just for the free pastries and did he already say his name? They could barely process the information already, but then Vash was ordering and they had to tell him to hold on a second, because that was a whole lot.
After that, things were mostly smooth sailing. Vash would come in every morning and get a different pastry and they’d talk until they had to take care of another customer. Some days, Vash would be in and out the door, other days, he’d stay until he would get a call to come back because a client was arriving soon. He was more than a little time-blind, but his charisma and hypervigilance for all things except the clock made it clear why he had so many clients in the first place.
For all the intensity, Vash was good at getting them to open up. He was one of the only people they knew in town so far, save for Nico who always awkwardly busied himself in the back of the bakery whenever the two had overlapping shifts - there was a lot going on there, and they were working through it together, but work wasn’t the place to think about it. Livio dropped more lore than he would consider himself comfortable with sharing, and it was probably somewhere in the food service handbook that you don’t discuss your shitty conservator with customers, but Vash would always emphatically nod along and didn’t ever make them feel dumb or strange.
“How long have you been stretching your lobes?” Vash asks him one day, leaning on a display case of lemon bars and scones. Livio has to think about it.
“I started about two years ago, but I’ve kept ‘em this small for a while now. I’m pretty sure they’re the ten ones?” Vash nods, his spiked back hair should stay in place with how much hairspray or gel must be in it to nearly defy gravity, but it bounces along with him.
“Got it. You know, we sell piercings, too. Some of it is for stretching and all that, but some of it is.” The blonde gets shy, and it catches Livio’s attention. Loud Vash can be draining, but quiet Vash is rare and always worth listening to. “Ah, why is it so embarrassing? I make some of them. Earrings, mostly.”
“That’s nice. Don’t be embarrassed about it.” Vash relaxes, so Livio relaxes, too. “Y’know, I wanted to get my ears pierced again before I moved,” - “moved”, sure - “But I just never got around to it. Somethin’ like a mid helix, maybe, since trying to get a second or third lobe is sort of out of the question.”
Vash is nearly leaning fully over the display case. “Really? You should come get it done at the shop, we can make a whole day of it. When are you available?” Livio knows he’s taking his fifteen once Vash leaves. He knows he can get a piercing, he’s got a few on his ears already (not to mention the tattoos on his limbs and hand were definitely scarier than going to any shop, it’s a medical miracle they’ve only had one infection). But the buildup, thinking about it and imagining needles and antiseptic and bleeding and the sharp sting of needles going through your damn skin and out the other end? That’s the hard part. If they had it their way, Vash would do it now and it’d be over with. At least then he wouldn’t spend days to weeks repeating the future scenario again and again in his head.
But, then again. Every time he’s done something to his body, it was because he was told he shouldn’t. Always an act of rebellion. This time, he’s being told he should.
Vash is already opening his phone, and with how he’s very much beyond the unspoken physical line of customer and employee, Livio can see he’s looking at his calendar. “When…ever?” Livio answers. Vash hums, not peeling himself away from the display case even when a mom and her two kids walk in, eyeing the menu and the strange, tattooed man with one arm lounging on the display of baked goods.
It’s an awkward amount of hemming and hawing, but finally Vash pulls himself up, decided. “What about this time in a week?” Seven days to think about it. Seven days to psyche himself up and swing wildly between wanting to run and wanting to stay true to his word.
“Sounds good,” It does not, in fact, sound good. It sounds anxiety-inducing and they really need to take that fifteen minute break. Vash finally pushes himself off the display, and though they need the break Livio’s grabbing a rag to wipe it down.
Vash calls over his shoulder, “I’ll pencil you in,” and then he’s out the door.
Liv.
Replaying the memory won’t stop the grave he’s dug for themselves from needing a body to fill it. His eyes linger on the shop sign - “knives” in the name, because that’s welcoming. Livio runs a hand down his face.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Livio feels himself getting dizzy, fuzzy around the edges.
I can. If ya need.
Razlo’s existence began as a way to protect themselves. That started before the conservatorship, and in a way was the cause of it. Now that they didn’t have to be in survival mode, they were both getting used to listening to when the other needed to tap out, rather than forcing them out of fronting in what was often a metaphorical shoving match.
They’re on the edge of dissociation when the door swings open. “There’s an inside, too, you know.” The words are threatening but the tone is pure honey as a blonde woman holds the door open for him. The first thing that comes to mind as Livio stares dumbly, bringing himself back to consciousness, is “sinister Christian girl autumn”. The woman would absolutely fit the part, black leggings and a giant white sweater hanging off one pale shoulder, except she’s wearing shoes that give her a good three or four inches on her already towering, lithe frame. The second thing that comes to mind is that he is more than a little intimidated.
“Ah, sorry, I - “ Livio gestures vaguely, stumbling over his words. Her eyebrows raise, probably at the out of place drawl. He’s about ready to turn tail and flee until Vash ducks under her arm and waves him inside.
The inside of the shop fits the outside. Mostly. There are some things that are decidedly not a part of the vision that the brick painters had planned, like the hanging vines lining the seam of the ceiling to the wall and the silvery, almost corporate front desk. Maybe now would be a bad time to mention they’ve only ever been into one tattoo parlor, and it was a dingy place with conservative guys who crudely joked in front of them that face tattoos like the one they were getting “attracted crazy”. Vash nudges him lightly, eyes unreadable, maybe a little worried, but grinning.
“You like it? We all added our little touches, the four of us. Anyways, what’s up? I was about to go and head over.” Livio’s still taking a lot in - a shorter woman with brown hair is sitting in one of the tattoo chairs, small enough to be craning her head to see what’s happening at the front. The front desk has a few signs, “walk-ins welcome” and “we take cash”, along with pamphlets about piercing and tattoo care, but also “trauma informed body modification.” They’d like to know more about that, please and thank you. They have all of those words.
What was he here for? “My… appointment?” Vash blinks a few times, the gears in his brain turning, before groaning and putting his head in his hands.
“I forgot,” he whines, and the woman scoffs and swipes against the grain of his blonde hair, messing up the style. “El,” he whines louder, lightly slapping her hand away.
El, the woman, heads behind the counter. Livio can hear the slap of a binder being set on the table and opened. “Are you still on your T break?” She asks Vash, flatly. Vash nods, looking more and more like a guilty dog, down to having his back turned and looking sadly over his shoulder at her. “Thought so. What’s your name, darling?”
He’s running at half-brain capacity, but offers up a quiet “Livio.” El writes, handing him a consent form on a clipboard and a pen. “Alright, just fill that out and I’ll see what we can do for you, Livio.” Intimidating as she is, none of the tightness in her lips is for them. It’s directed back to Vash, who is still murmuring apologies to Livio.
“I really forgot, I swear, it was so sudden when we decided on it and I’ve been slammed all week. You still want the mid helix, right?”
“Ya tip well, so I guess I can allow it,” Livio winces, because it really doesn’t sound like a joke even if it is. Vash understands and laughs anyway. “Yeah, that one. Guess I’m lucky ya do walk-ins, huh.”
Vash and El exchange a glance. “Usually, Meryl does the walk-ins, but she’s off today,” El half-explains to Livio, half-reminds Vash. “Do you think maybe we could ask?” Vash really thinks it over.
“I’ll ask him.” It feels very secretive, like this, two people talking about him but not to him. It reminds him of doctor’s visits, adding another stone to the pit in his stomach. Vash heads back into the shop, down a half. El is looking at Livio and he looks back, confused and exposed, before he realizes she’s only looking because he’s limply holding the pen in one hand and the clipboard in the other.
They focus on writing their initials next to every line. I am over eighteen: LR. I am aware of the possibility of infection. LR. I am not pregnant or nursing.
Leave it blank, it’ll be funny.
LR.
Damn.
El makes small talk with the girl in the tattoo chair while they wait for Vash’s return. She’s getting a tattoo from him, two lavender sprigs on her collarbones. She sees that Livio is leaning in to listen, and she offers up a story. She was a tattoo apprentice, but she had a teacher who gave her a back tattoo that was ugly on purpose. He couldn’t even face punishment for it because she signed a consent form - all around a shitty situation with a shitty guy hungry for power. She was considering getting it removed entirely, but Vash convinced her to do a coverup instead. A phone is passed from the tattoo chair to the front desk to Livio, and damn. He’s never seen any of Vash’s work, but he’s good. Thin, natural lines, turning an amorphous and heavy-handed blob into a twisting of flowers and vines in the abstract shape of a woman. Vash’s artwork shows diligence and skill that his carefully managed, borderline cartoonish personality doesn’t. If Livio didn’t know any better, he’d think the client was bluffing that Vash made that.
Vash comes back, more relaxed. “Yeah, he can do it. It’s quick and easy, so he’s cool with it. I think.” Livio sets the phone back on the counter, along with the clipboard and pen, and the process repeats where El passes the phone to the client. “Was that the -”
“The back one, yeah. You should show off more.” She pockets her phone and relaxes against the chair as Vash gets back into the groove of working. “I like your tattoo, by the way,” She adds on, quietly, to Livio.
“Thank ya. Yours, too.” She grins at him, turning away and starting up small talk with Vash. Livio tunes them out.
It’s only a few more minutes before he sees someone come out of the hallway Vash disappeared down earlier. Clear as day, it’s his twin, with the same sloped nose and blue eyes, but with black, curlier hair instead of blonde spikes and those blue eyes narrowed into slits. They’re the only body in the waiting area, so he makes a beeline for them.
“Livio?” Livio nods. “I’m Knives, we’re gonna be in the back, first door on the right.” Knives - which, what a name - turns on his heel and lets Livio follow. All business. At least it’s a private room.
The chair is comfortable and the room doesn’t feel as suffocating as it could be. The awkwardness of thinking they had an appointment with Vash when they didn’t have an appointment at all has passed for the most part, but it only gives way to the anxiety of actually going through with the idea. Knives is efficient, pulling up a stool, disinfecting his hands, and putting on gloves by the time Livio’s fully sat and comfortable.
“Did Elendira give you the new client form?” A shake of their head. “Okay. Would you prefer a silent appointment?”
“A - what?” Livio gets it, linguistically. Silent: no talking. Appointment: getting his piercing. No talking while getting his piercing. He’s more surprised that Knives is asking.
“Are you comfortable with me talking during the process, or do you want it to be quiet? I’ll only talk to you to let you know when I’m marking and when I’m piercing, then when we’re done.”
They’re nervous talkers, and Livio doesn’t want to be hypocritical if he asks for silence then talks his way through the first half and cries through the second. For his other piercings, it was either too dark at the house parties or the people giving them didn’t care enough if he rambled or sniffled or got quiet and defensive after. “That’s fine. The talking, I mean.”
Knives walks him through the jewelry options and which ear he should get pierced. They decide on a silver straight post on the left ear because he sleeps on his right side. Livio’s wringing his hands the whole time, the soft staccato “pop-pop-pop” of their joints doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Are you nervous?”
Livio unclasps his hands, keeping them taut at his sides. He’s never been too good with hiding his nervousness. “Nah, I’m -” His voice falters, swallowing around a syllable. “I’m good.”
Peachy, even.
Raz. Care about ya. You are not helping.
Taking a seat on the artist’s stool, feet planted more on either side of it than straight on the ground, Knives sighs deep and heavy. “Are you sure? Because I’m not going to do this if you don’t want to. I don’t need you passing out on me or anything.”
It’s not a challenge, there’s no “you need to see it through'' like they’re used to hearing. It’s polite to hold true to commitments, but Knives is giving them an out if they want to quit now. “I can, it’s just been a while.” Livio readjusts his posture - when did he start sliding down in the chair like a scolded kid? “Needles and all’a that.”
“I get it.” As Knives talks, he places the stud against their ear with a pair of scissor-like tongs, gauging the placement. He shouldn’t get it, not with all of the piercings and tattoos Livio and Razlo both have adorned themselves with. If anything, he should think it’s silly. Ironic, even. “People get worked up about the concept of needles, even if they like getting piercings or tattoos. You’re not the only one.”
Oh. Livio feels a little silly, with how matter-of-fact Knives says it, but he’s starting to catch on that Knives is a matter-of-fact guy.
“When’s the last time you had work done?” He asks, before adding on, “I’m not doing anything yet, just marking the punch hole.” As promised, Livio feels the cool felt tip of a marker on the dip of his outer ear.
He’s asking a very complicated question without knowing it. “Well, the last tattoo I got is the face one, that’s about a half a year old. I tried to give myself an eyebrow piercing around the same time, but… well, ya gotta learn things the hard way sometimes. I am not meant to be a piercer.” Knives tuts at him for that - reasonably so, they shouldn’t have done it at all but they were having an awful night and needed to do something to reclaim, to feel more them and less someone else, fear of needles forgotten in the moment. It didn’t work and closed up fast, because in their dual impulsivity they realized they didn’t have any jewelry to go in the hole.
“And the last piercing you got professionally done?”
“...None of ‘em.” He’s expecting some sort of berating, then. There’s a tension in the air and in Knives’ tone, and though Livio’s had his eyes shut since Knives put a black mark on his ear he can feel those blue eyes squinting at him. “This is the second shop I’ve ever been to. First was for the face.”
Silence stretches on for too long (a second or two, maybe) and Livio dares to open his eyes. Big mistake, Knives is prepping the needle and he nearly winces and turns his head away. “Take a deep breath and drop your shoulders,” Knives instructs. No, demands. No, asks. Livio does, pushing all the air out of his lungs and sagging his shoulders until he needs to breathe in again. “Your gauges are pretty even, for being home jobs.”
Livio didn’t do them himself, but he still feels a flicker of something like pride at the compliment. “Thanks.”
“You can keep your eyes closed, if you need, but I’ll walk you through what I’m going to do.”
“I don’t - “ Livio strains to keep their shoulders loose. “I know the drill, needle goes all the way through, piercing goes in.”
“I don’t go the whole way through. I get in the mark and put the back end of the jewelry into the hollow end. When I pull it back out, I’ll put on the front piece, clean you up, and we’ll be done.” Never once does he say “needle,” “stab,” any of the words that have been bouncing around in their head for a week. “Turn your head to the side for me?”
Being asked to do things by someone is not unfamiliar to Livio. Knives, though, asks him in a way that’s so… something about the way Knives talks sounds like he’s choosing to be kind and compassionate when he very well could be the opposite. It’s real, but learned.
Livio turns his head and makes sure he’s not squeezing his eyes shut too hard. “Just so ya know, I might… Well, I might cry. Don’t worry about it, promise I’ll be fine.” Knives hums an affirmative after a concerning pause.
“I’ll count down.” The stool rolls towards the piercing chair, Livio can feel Knives invade his space, close to the side of his face with his tattoo. Knives mentions it, mumbling about the linework and the artstyle. It goes over his head, mostly, but it sounds like a compliment. It’s not something he regrets, per se, maybe needed more time to think about it but likes it all the same. Jagged, sharp lines start at his eyelid and waterline and shoot out to his ear and hairline like lightning. Under the attention of Knives, they’re self conscious. Then again, they’ve been a mess of bad feelings since Livio started the car that morning.
I know what you’re thinking.
No shit, huh.
He can feel Razlo chomping at the bit, desperate to front to at least bar Livio from most of the pain. Livio knows that it would be better that way, probably, instead of fighting disassociation until the needle goes through his ear or, if he’s lucky, once he’s out of the shop, and then being out of commission for at least a day.
You just like getting piercings, I think.
I do. Think it’s fun.
Alright, I’ll letcha at it the next time I come here to get a tattoo.
Ha, ha. Ya know there’s hardly a difference between piercings and tattoos, right?
Tattoos are less… needly.
They’re way more needly.
Since when did Livio want to come back for a tattoo?
He’s so wrapped up in his head that he doesn’t notice Knives is counting until he gets to “one, and.” Sure as shit the needle pushes through the skin of his ear and out the other end, like a wasp sting. Livio laughs. He’s not sure if it’s coming from him or Razlo or neither or both, laughing softly like it tickles as Knives leans back in the chair to grab the rest of the piercing. “Sorry, don’t know why I’m laughin’.”
(What Livio doesn’t see is that Knives has to pause for a second, taking in the warm sound of his client’s soft laugh. It’s a stupid thought that comes and goes, but he has it nonetheless.)
Skilled hands insert the backing ball into the hollow needle and pull it out- easy and over with, muscle memory. “I’ve had worse reactions,” Knives says as he twists the front of the post tight, letting Livio open their eyes without telling him to and wiping the area with a cold cotton tip. Livio can’t remember the name for it, some sort of peroxide or hydroxide or something scientific.
They don’t look too different when Knives sets the mirror in their hands. Same tanned skin, long silvery hair and stubble of the same color, a little bit too-heavy handed tattoo. The only difference is the silver ball in his mid-helix, red and irritated but placed far enough from his second and third lobes to not be cluttered. “Well, damn,” he murmurs, turning his head to the side. It looks nice.
Knives stands from the stool, crossing his arms. “All good?” Livio nods, handing Knives the mirror back. “Good, I can take you to the front to pay.”
In all honesty, it’s a perfectly normal piercing appointment. Nothing crazy happened - except that Livio didn’t cry. He knows it’s half the shittalking in their headspace about who’s scared of getting what, but it’s also partly how Knives was. Professional, no nonsense, but still wanted them to feel comfortable. He even offered to let them back out, if they wanted to. It’s an autonomy they’ve been granted rarely.
“Where’s your bathroom?” Livio leans forward for Knives to hear him.
Knives turns around, stopping slow enough that they don’t crash into him. He points out a door on the right side of the hall, past the piercing room. It’s a single person bathroom (gender neutral, Livio notes) but nobody should be in it.
The cat scratches of synapses firing hit Razlo before they even close the door. Livio’s exhausted, it’s perfectly fair for him to want to slink back and go unresponsive for a while. When Razlo grounds himself and the headache resides, he washes his hands for the hell of it in case Knives is waiting outside the door and thinks he was actually using the bathroom. He knows how to tone it down for strangers, for people who don’t get it - he is different to Livio, but he emphasizes where they overlap. He switches their sapphire drop earring to the right side. It’s a habit they picked up on accident, coming down simply to a matter of both of them feeling more balanced when it was in one ear or the other.
Knives isn’t waiting for him, but it’s hard to get lost in a one-way hallway. El is still at the front desk, making him lean in close for her to see the piercing. After giving her “approval,” as Knives puts it, she walks him through payment and piercing care. It’ll take some time to heal and they’ll have to put in jewelry with a shorter length, but Razlo is more than willing to put in the effort. The eyebrow infection was a bitch. When he taps their credit card on the screen she holds out to him, she looks down at his hand and then over at Knives.
“Did he give you crap about it?” She asks. Knives tenses, suddenly very intrigued by Vash applying the stencils to his client’s collarbones.
“For what?” If anyone’s going to give them crap about anything, Razlo will definitely have something to say about it. El points down at his hand, the one with the supposed-to-be rose on the dorsal side. They didn’t think anything was wrong with it, other than it was technically only finished half way before the kid with the tattoo gun got bored and didn’t add a stem. That, and maybe it faded a little? “It’s blown out,” El explains further, using the same finger she was pointing with to ghost over the lines. “See how blurry it is.”
Knives nods along, at least extending to Razlo the olive branch of not actually being mean about it. “You can always cover it up. Vash is good at those. Though, you’d probably know.” The longer they stick around, the less frightening Knives is, maybe that’s just Razlo. He’s a guy who knows how to do his job well, albeit with a resting bitch face.
“Yeah, he’s good. Saw the back tattoo for the lady there,” Razlo does his very best to stifle his drawl to match Livio’s. Vash is focused in, but he gives them a quick wave and points to his ear, following it with a thumbs up before getting back to his client. “Do ya only do piercings?”
“I do tattoos, too. Those are appointments only.” He explains. “I have a client base, but…” Razlo knows how to detect weakness. It’s a skill he’s trying to unlearn, or at least use for better causes, and he can see the flash of hesitation of Knives’ face. “If you wanted to do a coverup, or something new, you could call the store and we can talk about a deposit and ideas.”
Whatever Knives is doing must be uncommon, because El is fully gawking at him, eyebrow raised and mouth slightly open. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Razlo answers, finally. He would rather not be fronting for the tattoo, but for the most part they don’t get to control that. If Livio wants to get the work done, he’s not going to slam that door on him with a “no, thanks.” “I’ll call ya, yeah? If you’re as good at tattoos as ya are piercing, it’d be worth checking out.”
The outside of the shop looks nicer when Knives visibly flusters. Black and red go nice together, after all. Razlo knows it’s bolder than Livio would ever be, but the sequence of blunders that came before could easily be chalked up to nervousness and not an entirely different individual. Whatever, either way it’s none of their business. Razlo thanks El and Knives, shouting a goodbye to Vash who gives him a half-focused wave before leaving the shop. He’s already tempted to start spinning the post in his ear, but he fights it.
He gets in the car. Makes a mental list of things to do. Buy saline wash, get gas, clean up the apartment a bit and then zone out for the rest of their day off. There’s a tightness in his chest about Needles and Knives - not just the shop, but the people in it. They were so nice, patient with them and never once questioning how they were acting the whole time. El and Knives and Vash let Livio panic and feel uncomfortable and did nothing but offer support and space for him. They didn’t make them feel normal, but they made them feel comfortable enough to not feel the need to act normal.
They’re definitely going back to get that rose covered up.