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Summary
Buck’s started tossing and turning thinking about the tattooist's line work—the skilled areas of saturation. Dreams about its elegance and the way the angles of the drawn-on bone move and contort with Eddie's skin whenever he reaches on tiptoes for the Ring Pops hidden in Buck's highest cupboard.
At first, he had mistaken the dreams for envy, had figured he just wanted a tattoo that matched.
Once Buck traversed into REM sleep and had begun jolting awake, rock hard, after dreams of tracing the boundaries of Eddie's tattoo with the tip of his tongue, he knew he was a goner. No sane, rational person counts down the seconds until their best friend drops something on the off chance that they'll bend over to retrieve it.
or, what to do when your good friend eddie diaz acquires a tramp stamp: a guide