Work Text:
The overhead lights in Virgil's dimly lit bedroom flicker like dying stars, casting jagged shadows across the tattoo gun clutched in Roman’s gloved hand. Royal embroidery on his sleeve brushes against Virgil’s knee where they sit cross-legged on the floor—Roman’s cape pooled beneath them like spilled wine.
"Hold still, stormcloud," Roman murmurs, lips quirking as Virgil stiffens under the buzzing needle. The scent of antiseptic and ink mingles with Virgil’s cheap bergamot candle—something bitter beneath the sweetness.
"You’re sketching Maleficent’s horns where, exactly?" Virgil grits out, fingers twitching against his own stencil paper.
"Your collarbone, darling. Where else?" Roman’s grin is all teeth. He dabs at the ink with deliberate care, humming a Spanish lullaby under his breath—"Duérmete, mi niña..."
Virgil exhales through his nose and flips his own design toward Roman—a skeletal Mickey Mouse mid-bow, thorned roses swallowing his feet. Roman freezes. The gun clicks off.
For three heartbeats, silence. Then Roman surges forward, crown tilting dangerously as he presses their foreheads together.
His breath hitches—warm, shaking—against Virgil’s cheek. "Dios, you—you divine creature," he whispers, voice cracking open.
Virgil’s pulse thrums where their skin touches. "Shut up," he mumbles, but his fingers curl into Roman’s sash, holding on.