Work Text:
Nina had called it “character development” like that explained anything.
Wylan had tried, briefly, to argue that character development did not usually involve sharp objects and body modification. By then Nina was already halfway out the door, keys spinning around her finger.
“I’ll wait in the lobby,” she’d said brightly. “Don’t chicken out.”
Now Wylan was sitting in a piercing studio that smelled faintly of antiseptic and metal polish, staring at a wall of jewellery displays. The chair opposite him was empty as of now.
“You’re overthinking it,” Nina had said earlier, which was her way of saying she had noticed he was overthinking and took the violent route rather than the comforting.
He wasn’t overthinking it. He was thinking about it exactly the appropriate amount for someone about to voluntarily have metal shoved through their tongue.
The bell above the studio door jingled softly.
“Sorry, I was just–”
The voice stopped mid-sentence.
Wylan looked up. Immediately he regret it, because Jesper Fahey was standing there with a clipboard in one hand and a pen behind his ear.
Jesper blinked. “Wylan?”
Wylan’s throat went annoyingly dry.
“Hi.”
“You’re–” Jesper started, then stopped himself, like he was recalibrating his entire understanding of reality. “You’re my appointment?”
“Yes.”
Jesper glanced at the clipboard, before looking back up. Back at the clipboard again, like the words might change places.
“Tongue piercing?” Jesper said carefully.
“Yes,” Wylan repeated.
Jesper exhaled through his nose. “Alright,” he said, voice suddenly very professional. “Okay. Yeah. Cool. That’s – yeah.”
Cool. That’s yeah.
Wylan latched onto that phrase like it might be a life raft.
Jesper gestured towards the chair.
“Go ahead and sit, I’ll just – set up.”
Wylan stood. Walking across the room on legs that felt a fraction too long for his body. He could feel Jesper watching him. He hated that he could feel it. Not in a bad way, that was his problem.
The chair was black leather, slightly too high, scarily clinical. He sat anyway, hands folded tightly in his lap like he could physically contain his nervous system. Jesper moved around the space with an easy familiarity, pulling gloves on, laying out tools. The professionalism of it should have been reassuring.
It wasn’t.
Because Wylan had known Jesper for years.
Not like this.
Not this version of him. This wasn’t the loud Jesper that always showed up with the energy of a man who never once considered consequences. This was so starkly different.
‘You’ve been here before?” Jesper asked casually, not looking up.
“Once or twice.”
“That’s vague.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Jesper hummed, like it was actually interesting.
Wylan watched him put on gloves.
Snap.
The sound made something in his stomach tighten.
“You sure about this?” Jesper asked, finally looking at him properly.
The question should have been simple.
It wasn’t.
Wylan thought about his father.
About the careful rules that had shaped his life into something soft-edged and controlled.
About Nina saying, Do something that feels like yours for once.
“Yes,” Wylan said.
A beat.
Jesper nodded once.
“Alright.”
He hesitated.
Then, lighter, like he was trying to reset the atmosphere:
“Brave choice.”
Wylan almost laughed.
“Is it?”
“It’s a tongue piercing,” Jesper said. “So… debatably.”
That got a real laugh out of him, quiet and unintentional.
“Okay,” Jesper said, stepping closer. “I’m going to talk you through everything. If you want me to stop at any point, you say so.”
Wylan nodded again.
Jesper leaned in slightly, positioning himself in front of him.
Too close.
Wylan became intensely aware of the fact that Jesper Fahey was within breathing distance.
That Jesper’s hands—gloved, steady—were just there.
“First I’ll mark the placement, you let me know if it looks good,” Jesper said. “Then you’re going to feel pressure, then a quick pinch. It’s fast. Worst part is anticipation.”
Wylan nodded again even though he wasn’t sure his body had agreed.
Jesper tilted his chin gently.
“Open your mouth a bit for me.”
Wylan did.
Jesper’s focus sharpened.
Marker pen touched his tongue.
Cold.
Wylan flinched slightly on instinct.
“Easy,” Jesper murmured. “You’re okay.”
Something about the tone made it worse.
Not worse in pain.
Worse in awareness.
Jesper adjusted his grip, steadying him.
“Stay still.”
Wylan tried.
He really did.
But staying still when Jesper Fahey was this close felt like a fundamentally impossible task.
Jesper finished marking, stepping back just enough to check alignment.
“Looks good,” he said.
Wylan swallowed carefully.
Jesper met his eyes.
Held them a second too long.
Then, like something in him broke just slightly:
“You know,” Jesper said, voice shifting into something far too casual, “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to kiss someone with a tongue piercing.”
The room went silent. Not metaphorically. Actually silent. Wylan stared at him. Jesper stared back for half a second—and then realization hit.
Hard.
“Oh my—no. No, no, no,” Jesper said immediately, stepping back like distance could undo time. “I didn’t mean—ignore that. I don’t say that to clients. I mean, I don’t say that at all, actually, I—”
He stopped, rubbing a hand over his face.
Wylan, very slowly, became aware that his ears were burning.
“That’s… not standard procedure?” Wylan asked.
Jesper let out a strangled laugh.
“Absolutely not standard procedure.”
A pause. Then, quieter: “Sorry.”
Wylan should have said it was fine. Should have reset the situation.
Instead, he heard himself ask, faintly: “…Why would you think about that right now?”
Jesper froze again. Looked at him. Actually looked at him. And for a moment, the professionalism slipped entirely.
“I don’t know,” Jesper admitted. “You just—said you wanted a tongue piercing and my brain did something incredibly stupid.”
Wylan’s heart was doing something incredibly stupid too, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud.
Jesper exhaled.
“Right,” he said, forcing brightness back into his voice. “We’re ignoring that. I’m going to pierce your tongue now.”
“Okay,” Wylan said. Then, because his mouth had apparently stopped taking instructions from his brain: “Do you say that to all your clients?”
Jesper made a sound that was halfway between laughter and despair.
“Please don’t start.”
Wylan smiled despite himself.
Jesper moved back into position, steadier now, but something had shifted. The air between them wasn’t quite as clinical. Not quite as safe.
“Okay,” Jesper said again, softer. “Open up for me.”
Wylan did.
This time, he focused on breathing.
On Jesper’s hands.
On the brief, grounding pressure of being held still.
“Doing great,” Jesper murmured.
Then: “Almost done.”
The piercing itself was fast. A sharp pressure, then a quick, bright sting that made his eyes water more out of surprise than pain. Wylan let out a small, involuntary sound.
Jesper’s hand steadied him immediately. “Hey—hey, you’re good. You’re okay.”
It passed just as quickly as it came.
Jesper stepped back, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath too.
“All done,” he said.
Wylan swallowed carefully around the new sensation.
“…That’s it?”
Jesper smiled. “That’s it.”
Then, quieter: “You did really well.”
Something warm settled in Wylan’s chest at that.
“Thanks,” he said.
Jesper started cleaning up, a little too efficiently.
“So,” Jesper said, too casual again. “Nina waiting outside?”
Wylan huffed a laugh. “In the lobby.”
“Of course she is.”
“She said it was character development.”
Jesper snorted. “That sounds like her.”
They fell into easy silence again, but it was different now. Less distant.
Wylan shifted slightly in the chair. Jesper glanced up. And for some reason, stopped what he was doing.
“You still thinking about that thing I said?” Jesper asked carefully.
Wylan should have said no.
He didn’t.
“…A little.”
Jesper sighed.
“I’m going to regret asking this,” he said. “But are you—are you okay with me having said it?”
Wylan thought about it properly.
About the heat in his face. About the way Jesper had looked when he said it—like it had slipped out before he could stop it. About the fact that it hadn’t felt like a joke.
“…I think I’m more confused than anything,” Wylan admitted.
Jesper nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
Then, softer: “I’m really sorry.”
Wylan met his eyes. And this time, he didn’t look away.
“It’s fine,” he said. Then, because apparently he was committed to making this worse for both of them: “…I mean. I can see why you’d wonder.”
Jesper shook his head like he was losing a fight with himself.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Jesper said.
“I know,” Wylan replied.
Jesper let out a breath, sharp and frustrated.
“No, I mean—I shouldn’t have said it because I didn’t mean it in a professional way.”
Wylan blinked.
Jesper dragged a hand through his hair, then immediately remembered he was still wearing gloves and made it worse.
“I mean I did mean it,” he corrected quickly. “Just not—like that’s not something I say to clients. I don’t— I don’t think about clients like that.”
“Okay,” Wylan said carefully. “Then why did you say it?”
Jesper opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked briefly like he might walk back into the studio and disappear forever.
Then, quietly: “Because it’s you.”
Wylan shifted slightly. Winced.
Jesper noticed immediately.
“You okay?” he asked, instinct snapping back in.
Wylan touched his tongue lightly, testing the new piercing.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Just… strange.”
Jesper’s mouth twitched.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It gets better.”
Wylan looked at him.
Really looked.
Jesper wasn’t smiling properly anymore. No performance. No charm turned up to full volume. Just Jesper, standing too still for someone who never stood still, looking like he was waiting to be told he’d crossed a line too far.
Wylan thought about his father.
About Nina saying do something that’s yours.
About the fact that he had walked in here expecting rebellion to feel loud.
It didn’t.
It felt like this.
Quiet and awkward.
Jesper closed the distance between them in a single step. Stopped just short. Like he was still asking without words.
Wylan didn’t move away. So Jesper kissed him.
Wylan made a small sound of surprise, then immediately forgot what surprise felt like. Jesper’s hand came up—hesitated—then settled at Wylan’s jaw like he was trying to confirm this was actually happening. Wylan reached for him without thinking.
Glove-rough hands, still faintly smelling of antiseptic and metal, pulling Wylan closer like he was afraid he might disappear if he didn’t hold on properly.
The kiss shifted quickly.
From shock to something slower.
Something that felt less like an accident and more like choice.
Jesper pulled back just slightly, breath uneven, forehead almost resting against Wylan’s.
“Sorry,” he murmured automatically.
Wylan huffed a quiet laugh.
“Don’t.”
Jesper blinked.
“Don’t… what?”
“Don’t apologise,” Wylan said.