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A least once a week, there'd be a customer who would call Simon up and ask whether a friend or family member could join them for the appointment. On occasion, he'd agree but he'd lie if he said he didn't have to prepare his second speech on "studio etiquette" for when they came to his studio.
One of the reasons he chose to be a piercer was because he didn't need to talk so much. While the tattoo artists had to spend hours on a tattoo - talking to their customers, making adjustments to the drawing and then sitting for at least one session to get it done at (sometimes) the most inconvenient places - so long Simon's clients knew what they wanted, what jewellery and where, his job was as good as done.
An appointment with him didn't take more than an hour but when a friend came into the mix, it could get a little messy. Some talked between each other for the whole duration of it. Others were there for moral support and hand-holding. He'd had bachelor and bachelorette parties flood the studio, and couples looking to get the same piercing in the same place. "A less permanent solution", they'd say and Simon had to just nod because, really, he couldn't care less what they did with their own money.
Minors with their more agreeable parent also came in often and freshly out of a night out groups, too. Simon liked to work late on weekends for this exact reason and the walk-ins were a large part of what made him a reliable guy for spur-of-the-moment decision-makers.
After years in the industry, and Simon had gotten good at guessing which friend of a client would cause him trouble. The way they spoke about them could ring all the right or wrong bells for Simon and the words "They won't be a problem" had been so ingrained in his psyche, he might as well tattoo them on his forehead to show what not to say if his customers wanted Simon to believe them.
If they were a regular, sure. He could strike a conversation with their cousin twice-removed or their kindergarten best friend who's visiting for the holidays. As of recent though, first-timers had been getting on Simon's nerves. He didn't understand the need to bring three whole people to get your earlobes pierced, let alone your nipples.
Maybe that was just him. Maybe he hadn't read the new definition of the word "friend" and was behind on trends.
"Ey, Si." Court patted the doorframe, attracting Simon's attention. "You got a minute?"
He had a two-hour break between his last appointments and since his commute home took about an hour, Simon thought he could suck it up and wait it out. It was a Monday after all, and he had very little plans to stay past six.
"What's up?" Simon tapped his cigarette in the ashtray and pressed it to his lips.
At that, Courtland closed the front door and joined him on the short patio. The man had been a tattoo artist for nearly a decade, if not one and a half. He was taller than Simon yet just as wide, with an angel-like tattoo spreading across his neck. Courtland looked just like any other tattooist to Simon, carrying a variety of tattoos over his arms and legs, and even more which Simon saw whenever Court wore white shirts.
He took out his own pack of cigarettes and Simon offered his lighter. Slowly, Court exhaled and leaned back.
"Do you have any gaps in your schedule this week?" Courtland asked then.
"Uh. Probably." Simon slightly furrowed his eyebrows and took out his phone to check. "Why?"
"My brother Ryland wants to get a piercing." He said. "Or, I guess, my other brother's coaxing him into it now since he's in town and wants to watch."
Simon snorted. "How many siblings do you have?"
"Just them two. They're twins."
"Huh."
Simon wasn't so close with Court as he was with Jack and Eva but he had some sort of recollection that Court came from a big family. He was the oldest too, he guessed, unless his brothers were well in their fifties and this Ryland guy had just now decided to get a piercing.
Not that it was too late, just. A little out of the ordinary.
"Sure. I can make time." Simon told him, switching back and forth between calendar days. "Does he know what he wants to get?"
"A belly button piercing I think." Court said and Simon glanced at him just in time to watch him roll his eyes amid a cloud of smoke. "I don't know what's gotten to his head recently. He's been working out with a friend or something, and wants to make a change."
"Is that a bad thing?" He dimmed the burning cigarette with his fingers and left it in the ashtray.
"It's not but he's a middle school teacher, you know?" He shrugged. "And teachers aren't famous for being fun. Not this kind of fun anyway."
Simon huffed a short laughter. He couldn't argue with that, mainly because he didn't know. He'd been homeschooled all the way until college and then he moved as far away from his folks as possible. Besides, he and Court were in this kind of business where anyone could walk through their doors - teachers, lawyers, SAHMs, blue-collar workers, nannies, et cetera, et cetera.
No person was the same as the one before or the next after. Considering how little "fun" his own friends considered Simon, it wasn't far to assume that a schoolteacher could be cooler than him. He'd also heard that siblings tended to understate some aspects of each other, so keeping an open mind wouldn't hurt either.
"Is Thursday evening okay?" Simon asked instead.
"Sure." Court smiled and buried his cigarette next to Simon's. "I'll let them know."
Thursday kept testing him in the upmost inconceivable ways. He had eight appointments back to back, three of which were pre-scheduled and the rest kept coming in and out on intervals until Simon managed to squeeze the people in. He had to reject piercing a baby's earlobes because he hated the cries of kids (which he did state alongside other reasons to decline offering his services) and another customer who didn't have the anatomy for a vertical labret.
He ran out of disinfectant and gloves - at the same time too which never happened to him - so he forced Jack to go to the pharmacy. He'd barely smoked two cigarettes since breakfast and Court bought him a sub, knowing Simon would be on closing duty tonight.
"We can reschedule with Ryland if you want," the other man suggested as he leaned by the entrance of the private piercing room.
Simon shook his head. "It's fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." He rolled his chair back to the tiny table and undid the long barbell from its plastic ceiling. The client waiting up front was another walk-in, this time for a tongue piercing. Simon was fucking tired. "If he can give me, like, fifteen minutes before we get on with it, it'd be great."
"You got it." He added his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. "You got one more person after him, right? If you feel like grabbing a beer with the three of us and another couple of friends, you're invited to join."
"I'll think about it," which in his language meant he was most definitely not going to do that.
Simon finished as fast as he could, then paid his farewell to Jack who left just before five. Lucky fucker. Tiredly, Simon knelt by the entrance and lit up a cigarette. He kept drinking and leaving his energy drink at his feet and prayed that the amount of caffeine he'd had today wouldn't give him a heart problem.
It wouldn't the first in his long line of health issues and Simon knew he had to stop smoking too but... Goddamn it. He was going to quit tomorrow.
Two sets of footsteps approached and Simon raised his head. If one of them didn't wear glasses and the other hadn't dyed his hair, he would've been sure he was seeing double. Those must be Court's brothers but Court very much forgot to mention how insatiably handsome they'd be. Their faces were long and sharp. Their hairs were messy but in a different way - one purposeful; one without reason, as if just rolling out of bed.
Looking just a little closer too, and maybe they weren't so identical after all. The man with the glasses had a small, tight-lipped smile and he waved awkwardly. Unlike his brother in the biker jacket who looked handsome and cool, Glasses was handsome and cute, fuck. Simon was a sucker for the sweater and glasses combo.
Simon stood up gracelessly, feeling his knees buck from staying bent for so long.
"Hey." Glasses started. "Are you, uh. Stiles? No. San... Sean..."
"Simon." He put his cigarette between his lips to accept his handshake.
"Simon! Yes. Okay. I'm Ryland. Nice to meet you." Ryland smiled again, though a gentle blush covered his cheeks. "That's Colt."
"What's up." Colt shook his hand as well.
"I'm sure Court told you we'd be coming. Or not sure. I hope he did. For the appointment and all."
"He did, yeah." Simon said, glancing through the windows of the studio. "I think he's working on his tablet right now but you can go talk to him. I'll come in a bit."
"No rush." Ryland reassured him. "We heard you've had a long day, so take as much time as you need."
That was the hottest thing anyone had told Simon in his life.
He nodded and Ryland held Simon's gaze for a couple more seconds before Colt pushed him to get inside. Simon breathed out heavily and leaned forward. He didn't know why but it felt way more unethical to have the hots for his coworker's brother than pierce a baby's ears. Just a feeling, was all.
Simon finished his cigarette, then popped a mint and watched as the three brothers joined him by the tiny stand with jewellery on it. Ryland's eyes immediately zeroed on a gauge with star-like ends on each side which, by Simon's calculations, made him and Ryland the perfect fit for each other.
"I've got that one as well." He mentioned casually. Ryland raised his brows, so did Court (needless to mention, entirely different connotation of raised) but Colt snorted a little and hoped to hide his smile while looking in the other direction.
"Really? That's cool." Ryland rubbed his palms in his jeans. "I mean if you got it, then it's a good choice, right? At least for a first time."
"Mm."
"Is that your pick?" Colt asked and Ryland glanced between him and Simon, and nodded shyly.
"I'll get it ready then." Simon said.
Having done it a millions time already, the preparations went quick. He could hear the three of them talking in the common room, laughing and raising their voices whenever the other said something stupid. It must be fun having siblings but Simon preferred his personal space, and he didn't think he would've been able to share it when he was growing up.
His mother was the kind of woman who didn't believe in secrets and his father had to make an example out of him at church. They couldn't allow something as terrible as "privacy" or gay or a punk son to plague their home. Not that it mattered in the end. He turned to be the most private, gay and punk guy in college until he settled on a career path that put him at an average in all but one category of the three.
"Let's get you settled." Simon called for Ryland and like a shadow, Colt and Courtland followed.
Simon explained the process briefly; disinfected the place and shaved a small part of Ryland's happy trail that made him mad and flustered at the same time. Court didn't lie when he said Ryland had been working out. He didn't have the six pack every man was looking for, but his body was toned and his waist looked even smaller when he raised his shirt.
"Stop. Recording!" Ryland whined at his twin brother who cackled on the side.
"I can hold your hand if you're scared." Colt told him.
"I'm fine." He shot back, then he latched to Simon's thigh once the needle went in.
A groan. A colorful set of non-curses which surprised Simon more than the involuntary touch. He really was a teacher when his vocabulary included words like "Shoot" and "Fudge" and "Darn-dang it", that only intensified as Simon threaded the jewellery above his belly button.
"It's over." Simon said and usually, he'd roll a step back but Ryland's nails were still in his leg and he didn't have the heart to move away. "You can lay for as long as you want, alright? It'll take around two weeks for the swelling to go down, so try not to do any intensive exercises of the mid-section and disinfect it two to three times a day."
"Okay." He breathed out shakily. Over his crooked glasses, he followed the longitude of his own arm and pulled it away as if burnt. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't know I, um. Took you like that."
"It's fine." Simon offered a smile, then his eyes met with Court's and he cleared his throat.
They'd already agreed that he wouldn't take any money for Ryland's appointment, but Simon was going to use the opportunity to get himself a free tattoo. He had this idea for a small back piece and Court was already working on it, so he didn't want to anger the guy with being uncharacteristically friendly to his little brother.
"Um." Ryland prompted once they were out again. Simon didn't have time for a cigarette but he'd decided to send them off and feel the last bits of sun on his face. He was so fucking ready to ditch his winter coat and hurry up to summer. "Are you coming tonight? If, of course, Court invited you the bar thing later. He can be forgetful sometimes, so I thought I should ask just in case."
"Yeah." Simon said back, like the hypocrite that he was. He wanted to go home to his cat after today but if Ryland was gonna be there... "Sure. I'll swing by."
"Cool." He grinned and took a short step forward. "Give me your number. I'll send you the address later."
"It's fine. I've got Court's, so he'll share his location when I'm done."
"Oh." Ryland's face reddened and he hurriedly put his phone back in his pocket. "No, yeah. Of course. Yeah. Um... Cool! Cool, cool, cool. Yeah. Uh."
"C'mon, Ry." Colt chimed from a few feet away. "Stop flirting with the guy and get moving. I'm starving!"
"I'm not- It's not-" He rubbed his face under his glasses and right when he left in a hurry, did Simon realise.
Ryland was asking for his phone number. Fuck.
There were very few places at which Simon could tolerate loud and cramped spaces. At a concert was obvious. He liked the roar of the crowd, its energy and the intensity they had alongside the performance of his favorite bands. Mosh pits, oceans of black clothes and long hairs, regardless of gender. Simon spent quite a bit of money on traveling and going to concerts, and Ava once told him that the only time she didn't think he was a broody Debbie Downer was then.
So, really, it wasn't like he couldn't get loose - just that this kind of loose where folks sat at a sports bar and other people were bumping him in the back from trying to pass around their table... Not what he'd call his scene of choice.
Simon had also gotten used to not looking like the rest. Tattoos in this day and age were normalised even with the older population, but when half of his face was pierced and heavy with metal, some would do a double-take or outright frown as their eyes met. It didn't bother him, more-so that he was glad his hobby wasn't sports-watching like David. He'd told Simon how many drunk guys had tried to start fights with him just because he had a nose piercing and a few earrings.
His friend wasn't particularly jacked though, and Simon doubted they'd try to have their go at him if Simon braced for a brawl. Still, not what he wanted to do on a Thursday night.
"Colt picked the place." Ryland mentioned, leaning closer to Simon. When he got here, the only available seat was next to Ryland and Simon didn't know whether it was intentional or not but he wasn't going to question it. "His favorite hockey team's playing tonight, so he wanted to watch. Not from my home, may I add."
Simon looked around. "Doesn't look like there's a lot of hockey fans tonight."
"I guess." Ryland shrugged and tipped the pint of beer to his lips. "He said they'll come later to fill the rest of the space. Not sure how much I'm looking forward to it though."
"Not a sports fan?"
"Not even a little bit." He let out a laugh. "You?"
Simon shook his head.
"What do you do then? Except perforate people for a living."
"Uh." An unconscious smile tugged the edge of his lips. "I don't know."
Ryland raised his brows jokingly. "You don't know."
Fuck. He was messing this up. "No, I do. I, um..."
"I'm waiting."
"Shut up. I'm trying to come up with something."
Ryland laughed, pressing the back of his palm to his mouth. Simon's tense shoulders eased. "My bad. I didn't know there could be someone just as dedicated to their job as I am."
"You're a teacher, right?"
"Yeah." He bit his lower lip for a moment. "I teach Science to middle schoolers, more specifically."
"Noble profession." He took a short swing of his bottled beer.
"Easy stuff." Ryland waved it off. "Anyone could do it."
"Sure."
"You don't believe me?"
"I do, I just... My Science teacher used to be my mom and she taught me shit from the Internet. Not even Wikipedia, you know. Just random websites and news articles she liked."
Ryland's eyes slightly widened. "Holy... Wow. So you were homeschooled?"
Simon nodded. He didn't like saying it to just anybody. Last time he did it was his first year in college and Ava and David told him he "looked" like it, which was objectively way worse than lying through his teeth and making up some fake public school in the South.
They chatted about that for a while. He let Ryland do most of the talking and Ryland looked pretty content with it, especially when they reached the part with his best friend Rocky. As Colt had promised, the bar filled to the brim just short of the start of the game and Simon moved his chair closer to Ryland to hear him better.
Some attempts were made to hide his interest in Ryland. Simon tried to join Court in the conversation, then Ryland tried with Rocky himself and Colt but all of them were back at watching the TV screens by the time Simon asked Ryland another question.
On his third and final beer, the team they were rooting for won and the bar exploded with celebrations. Someone bumped into Ryland and his near-empty pint fell over, sticky beer dripping down to Simon's pants. Ryland non-cursed and immediately got a dozen of napkin to clean everything.
"I'm so sorry!" He said and patted a couple more into his jeans. "Crap. I'm really sorry."
"It's okay." Simon took the napkins off him and his hand landed over Ryland's, who kept it there until panic settled in his eyes. Simon's heart skipped a beat. Why did Ryland have to be his type? "I've had worse."
"And better." He retorted.
"It's fine." Simon repeated and looked at his phone. "I should take it as my sign to leave. Got another long day tomorrow anyway."
"Oh." Ryland straightened his shoulders. "Yeah. Of course. Let me take you to the exit at least."
Another few minutes with Ryland were another few minutes with Ryland, so Simon didn't argue. He put a fifty on the table and gave a short wave to everyone, then followed Ryland out.
"Thanks for coming tonight." He said with a smile. "I appreciate the company."
"Thanks for inviting me." Simon replied. "I'm not one for sports bars but, uh. I had fun."
"Same here." Ryland looked at his feet. He was starting to shiver in the late-March weather. "I'll see you around...?"
Simon hummed, yet his feet were bolted to the pavement. It didn't have to be this hard to leave, goddamn it. His thumb was fiddling with the edge of his phone case and his brain screamed to ask for Ryland's number before it was too late.
Ryland acted first though, and took a step backwards, still smiling gently. "Okay. Um. Good night, Simon."
And Simon cursed himself off for the rest of the night.
Mid-April, and he still thought about Ryland every single day. It didn't help that Court was his colleague and every now and then, he'd mention his little brother and what he was up to. Not Ryland and Colt. Not "Ryland did this and Colt did that". Just Ryland. It felt like he was testing Simon or something - how he'd react or what he would say.
Mostly, Simon nodded. He'd throw the occasional "Really?" and "Cool" and "That's nice" to spice things up, then make up imaginary scenarios where Ryland was the one who told him about his day and not Court. His brain kept trying to force Simon out of reality; make him daydream more often and with far less than what he was used to. He couldn't sit down and read a book before his mind drifted back to Ryland and the majority of his work, he did on autopilot.
This was getting dangerous. He was bordering that point of his life where he either had to find something else to think about, or talk to his therapist about it. It would be lame though, wouldn't it? To sit on his bi-monthly appointment with her and complain that his one-time conversation with Ryland was something so grand, it had a larger impact on him than his mother's Bible studies.
Did he want to roll back the time and reject Court's request? Of course not. But it would've been fucking nice if Ryland was ugly and rude instead of this good-looking, kind, fun and down-to-earth guy who taught Science to the new bright minds of the nation.
"Si." Court's voice startled him out of his thoughts. Again.
He'd been doing it way too much recently.
"Do you have any cigarettes?"
Silently, Simon opened his pack and Court stole one, pressing it between his lips. The overhang above them did most of the heavy-lifting in terms of keeping them from today's rain, but even then he and Court had to scoot closer to each other so they didn't get wet.
Court exhaled slowly.
"I thought you stopped smoking." He mentioned.
"Yeah," he crossed his arms, "but I keep some around because David always forgets to buy for himself."
"Good for you honestly." Court took another drag. "Ryland keeps telling me to quit but I can't help it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He doesn't like smokers. Or smoking in general."
He already knew that and he felt shitty for it being the reason he actually stopped after half a decade of half a pack a day. "Cool."
Court smoked the most of his cigarette before he spoke again, "He's a good guy, you know. In the good job, self-sufficient and earnest kind of way."
"I guess." Simon bit on one of his snake bites. "I mean, he looked like it when we talked, so. You're probably right."
"Good." Courtland pushed the rest of it in the ashtray and pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket, giving it to Simon. "Don't mess this up then."
He went inside. Simon unfolded the paper and his heart felt like it popped then and there when he saw "Ryland" neatly written under a phone number. It was Court's handwriting, he knew, but fuck if he didn't add the number to his contact list.
An hour later, he texted Ryland.
Another two, and Ryland texted back.
The good news were that Simon no longer had to talk about his make-belief fascination with Ryland to his therapist. It took all but a week before they went on their first "date" (and he did use the term very loosely, so he didn't bring his hopes up), then that "date" went on for twelve fucking hours.
The best twelve hours of his life, really. They had afternoon coffee and walked around a park. Rocky's birthday was coming soon, so they went shopping and ended up in a local patisserie by the coast that served - in Simon's opinion, not Ryland's - the most overpriced carrot cake in the entirety of San Francisco. He should've known from the sign at the front, calling everything "vegan" and "cruelty-free".
Could it even be cruelty-full if it was vegan in the first place? It wasn't like fruits and vegetables could be abused and Ryland laughed so hard when Simon fumed about it, that he kept chuckling at random points of the day. It was a lovely, snorty sound that Simon hoped he could hear for as long as possible.
They kept checking off boxes one by one. Coffee, park, shopping, movies, going home together. Ryland invited Simon to his place and Simon stayed there well after midnight to keep talking. He was happy Ryland offered beer than some cheep wine. Ava liked to drink that shit and Simon had to bring his own drinks whenever he went to her apartment.
The "date" repeated half a week later, then three days later again and two days later once more. Less hours were racked up for each of them but it was amazing nonetheless. Ryland was amazing in every imaginable aspect.
So the bad news were, Simon now had to talk to his therapist about Ryland in general. It was impossible not to mention him when for the past month and a half, it was Ryland and work, and work and Ryland and back. Simon thought his cat was starting to grow jealous, and she had this cat-like frown on her furry face if she got a whiff of Ryland's cologne on Simon's clothes.
He'd had crushed before - crushes who'd turned into boyfriends, crushes of friends where the feelings had dissipated and crushes he'd spoken to once and never again. Simon wasn't immune to liking someone and yet, Ryland was making it really hard to compare him to anyone else when he was this ridiculously perfect man who spun his head with lovesickness.
"What do we think?" Ryland raised two dress shirts by his chest. "I can't decide whether to be proper official or casual official, you know? Last year I was wearing my "I Had Potential" shirt and Nicole told me it was inappropriate for a graduation, so we're ruling out most of my wardrobe for this one."
Simon laid on Ryland's bed, one leg up and swaying gently. Takeout boxes were spread next to him. The TV was set on some abhorrent reality show Ryland liked watching for some reason. Simon was supposed to be home hours ago too but just like any other hangout with Ryland, they were back in his apartment for drinks.
"The double jeans combo seems good enough." Simon shrugged. "Might be a bit hot though, so ditch the fox sweater."
"But I like the fit exactly because of the sweater!"
"Okay." He raised his hands innocently. "Then wear the damn sweater. I'm just saying you'll probably have to leave it at the teacher's lounge at some point or carry it the whole day."
Ryland made a disgruntled face but by the looks of it, he was going to listen to him. He left the jeans shirt outside and put the other one back in his closet, sitting next to Simon a moment later.
"I have no idea what I'll do in the summer." Ryland said. "It's, like, the most boring part of the year. Not that the other teachers will agree with me. Will you be working?"
"Sure." Simon fiddled with the string of his shorts. "I don't have a lot going on either. David might make me go camping again but I think I'll skip. Not a fan of the whole five days, no shower situation he has going on."
"There're portable showers you can buy." He offered. "With the curtains and the shower head and whatnot."
Simon made a face.
"I'll think about it," and then (for real this time) he wasn't going to whatsoever.
"We can do something together." Ryland suggested then, making Simon raise his head. "I heard Colorado's nice this time of year and there's a bunch of cabins and, like, a nice scenery. Rocky and Adrian went there two years ago and really liked it. Well, mostly Rocky. Adrian's not as outdoorsy as him but they had a good time."
Simon bit one of his snake bites. A trip with Ryland sounded like a dream come true, so much so that he didn't know what to think of it. Court specifically gave him Ryland's number, so Simon could shoot his shot. David and Ava told him to risk it and kiss him, and that was a month ago before they went on six more "dates".
"You'd want that?" He asked and sat up.
Ryland shrugged, his face pink and avoiding Simon's eyes. "Why not? I mean, we went to San Jose to see Japantown and I had a great time, so... You know. Japantown. Colorado. They're not so different if you think about it."
Simon scoffed. "Are you sure about that?"
"If we're together, technically it'll be the same." He stubbornly kept on and kept refusing to look at Simon. "We've traveled together. You've stayed over. We've cooked for each other, so I know we won't get hungry if we rent a bungalow or, uh. Stay at a hotel."
Everything Ryland was saying made his heart grow tight with want. Simon was (objectively) horrible at taking hints and yet Ryland was so obvious that Simon could no longer pretend like there wasn't something between them.
He sat closer. He leaned on his hand behind Ryland and with blood hammering his eardrums, Simon pulled Ryland's face and kissed him, slow but unlingering. He gave a few inches space for Ryland to respond and the seconds dripped agonisingly long before Ryland kissed him back.
Months of waiting and dates and getting to know each other, they were so worth it. Simon opened his lips more, then his hand slithered to Ryland's waist and brought him even closer. His mouth felt hot and soft, falling in rhythm with Simon's until both of them were out of breath.
Ryland pressed his forehead with his and laughed softly. "Thank god it wasn't just me who wanted that. Holy moly. I thought I was going crazy for a second there."
Simon gave him another kiss. "Sorry it took so long."
"It's fine." Ryland hummed and a devious smile appeared on his face. "It's not like you refused to give me your phone number or anything."
"Yeah." Simon cringed at himself. "I'm sorry about that too."
"So... The trip's still on?"
Clearly, a stupid question and Simon didn't even respond to it. He leaned in and sealed their lips together, knowing that with enough kisses, Ryland would know the answer was "Yes".