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“Y’think I'd look good with earrings?” Joe asks while lighting another cigarette, the flicker of the lighter brightening the almost dark room. The only source of light is the faint sun that shines through the parts of the window the curtains don't cover.
“I think you look good anyway,” Peter says, hunched over his laptop with an unsafely short distance between his face and the glowing screen. “Not what I meant, dickhead,” he chuckles, “I'm asking if an ear piercing would suit me.”
“You can try it out, y’know,” Peter remarks, lowering his laptop screen to look at Joe better, “if you don't like it, you can just not put any earrings in and it'll grow shut.”
“‘m not in the mood to waste money on that, though,” the former replies, taking a slow drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out carefully.
Peter's eyebrows raise before he places his laptop on his bed, gets up, and opens the window next to his bed. “You don't have to.”
Joe rolls his eyes at the action, and chuckles at Peter's statement. “Fuck you mean I don't have to? Is there a way to steal piercings now?”
“Dumbass,” Peter scoffs, turning to face him, “I can pierce you. How else do you think I got all of mine?”
Joe's eyebrows raise. “I thought you got them done professionally.”
Peter laughs, and reaches over to one of the drawers in-between their beds. When he opens it, all there is is sewing needles. “I stole one of your lighters to do it a few times.”
Joe rolls his eyes again. “You wanna do it?”
“Can I do it?”
“Fuck it,” he says, taking one last drag from the cigarette before putting it out — even though it was only half burnt — and standing up, approaching Peter. “C'mon,” he encourages, and Peter grins, grabbing a pair of gloves, hand sanitizer and, of course, a needle.
“Sit,” Peter commands, sanitizing his hands before he puts on the gloves he took, “Y'know, I don't even put this much care for myself. I usually just wing it, no sanitizing or whatever… but since this is your first time, I'll be careful.”
“That's what she said,” Joe laughs, and Peter scoffs before he sanitizes the needle next. “That's not how the joke works, dipshit. Now it just sounds like you're getting pegged.”
“Oh, just ruin my fun, would you?”
“Lighter,” Peter demands, ignoring the previous comment — Joe hands it to him, and he holds the needle in the open flame for a few seconds before taking it back out and wiping it with his gloves, and finally spraying sanitizer on it. He lays out a paper towel on the bedside table, and lays the needle on top of it, before reopening the drawer and grabbing a pair of earrings he thinks would suit Joe from it. He briefly sprays the disinfectant on them before he adds them onto the paper towel.
He then sprays Joe's ear with the same disinfectant — this is almost the last part he has to clean with it now — and gently scrubs, and Joe groans uncomfortably. “C'mon, be a man.”
“Don't you dare say shit about me being a man or not, bitch.”
“Wow, you're defensive,” Peter comments, grabbing the needle — “alright, be warned, it might hurt.”
“Fuck you,” is all he replies with, and Peter rolls his eyes a final time before he pierces through his earlobe with no problems. “Was that it?”
“Yes, god,” Peter scoffs, grabbing one of the earrings and putting them on him, “There was no need to make such a huge fuss about it.”
“You think you want the other one or should we stay at one?”
Joe pauses, and thinks. “What do you think fits me better?”
“Hmm… I'd say two,” Peter says, moving to face Joe's left side. He takes a new needle, and repeats the past process — new gloves, sanitizing, more sanitizing, more and more sanitizing — until he finally pierces again, and puts the second earring on him, and Peter grins. He takes off his gloves, throws them away and puts the things away before he places himself in front of Joe and stares at him. Joe's cheeks heat up.
“I think you look great,” Peter says, and Joe cracks his knuckles nervously, before asking, “D’ya mean that?”
Peter's eyebrow raises. He's not sure if he has ever seen Joe this unsure. “Yes,” he drawls, “of course I do. Why wouldn't I?”
“I dunno,” he replies, attempting to act like he doesn't care, “you're unserious a lot…”
“Well, I'm serious now,” Peter states, “I wouldn't lie to you about how you look.”
“Okay,” Joe mumbles. They sit in silence for a few seconds. Peter is sure he has never seen Joe like this before. He's usually the exact opposite of this.
Peter gets an idea, and he smiles. “Wanna look in the mirror and see how you look?”
Joe glances up at him and narrows his eyes. “That's stupid. I'm not in a fuckin’ salon.”
Peter stands up, and places his arms on Joe's shoulders, wailing, “Please, come on, just this once.”
“Stop being dramatic,” Joe mutters, shoving him away lightly, but Peter just presses his forehead against his, and begs, “Please, Joey, I'll do whatever you want.”
Joe thinks, and then he lets out an overly loud sigh. Before he can finish the word fine, Peter grabs his hand and tugs him towards the bathroom. Joe grunts as he's shoved in front of the sink, and practically forced to look at himself. He blushes uncontrollably.
“Look at you,” Peter encourages, and it only makes Joe want to look less. “No, I mean it!”
He looks. He turns to both sides once. He, in fact, does not look that bad. “Do you think it's too feminine?”
Peter groans. “No it's not, Joe, please. Enough of that.”
Joe is quiet. He sighs, but it turns into a laugh. “Yeah, no clue what I'm on about. I look great! Thanks, man,” he says while exiting the room. Peter doesn't react immediately, and suddenly, in less than a minute, the front door slams shut. He groans and rubs his eyes, bothered by Joe's act.