Chapter Thirty-One
Ben
“No,” Ben said firmly.
Gavin let out a heavy breath and asked, “Why?”
“No names.” Ben had a lot of personal rules he followed when it came to his work. He wouldn’t ink anyone who seemed unsure or pressured by their friends. He’d just have a consultation with them and then make an appointment for later in the week. He wouldn’t tattoo anyone who seemed like they were under the influence of drugs or alcohol—he had a rainbow rose tattoo on his own ass to remind him what a bad idea that was. His biggest one, though, the one he’d never crossed the line on, was names. People broke up, people died, people cheated on each other. Ben couldn’t count how many names he’d had to cover up in his career.
“It’s not just any name, Ben.” Gavin leaned a little closer, as if he could change Ben’s mind by batting his eyelashes and running his hand up Ben’s thigh. “It’s your name.” Gavin pressed a kiss to Ben’s neck, trailed his lips higher so he could whisper against Ben’s ear. “I want your name on me.”
He knew how to get Ben, that was for sure. “Do you have any idea how many clients I’ve turned away over this in the last couple of decades?” Of course, if he said he didn’t like the idea of inking Gavin with his own name—marking him, claiming him—he’d be lying and they both probably knew it.
They were alone in the house, at least for the moment, and Gavin shifted from his spot next to Ben. He faced Ben, crawled into his lap and straddled his thighs as he wrapped his arms around Ben’s shoulders. “I’m not just any client.”
Ben was on the verge of giving in. He knew it. Gavin knew it. Gavin leaned in, kissed him hard on the mouth, slid his tongue against Ben’s. When he pulled back, just for the sake of curiosity, Ben asked, “Where would you want it? If I were willing. Which I’m not.”
Gavin beamed triumphantly. “Right here.” He pointed to his ring finger, mapped a little line over the top just below the knuckle, the same spot where his wedding band would go in the not-so-distant future. “It’ll be like an engagement ring.”
Goddamn it. How the hell was he supposed to say no to that? “Go wash your hands.”
When Gavin hopped up, Ben got his gear out. The night before, he’d nervously packed his kit as he tried not to worry about fucking up whatever Gavin had in mind. Now, he spread a sterile paper sheet on the table, laid out his gun, pulled a small case out with a variety of inks, and then grabbed a fresh needle. He didn’t open it, mostly out of habit. He always let his clients watch him open the sealed packet with a new needle in it. He’d just set out a few pouches of sanitizing wipes when Gavin came back into the room. “Got ’em good and clean?” he asked.
“I could perform surgery.”
“That’s almost clean enough,” Ben joked. “What color?”
“Just black.”
That surprised Ben. “You sure? I could do a rainbow gradient or some shading around the edges, give it a little depth, or—”
“Simple,” Gavin said as he sat across from Ben. “I want it simple and black.”
Under any other circumstances, Ben would’ve thought that’d be boring—especially for Gavin. But Ben realized when he said simple, Gavin meant serious. His heart beat harder in his chest. He could only think of a few times he’d been this nervous when he was about to work on someone. “Ben or Benjamin?”
Gavin didn’t answer at first, so Ben glanced up. When Gavin met his eye, held it for a beat, he said, “Just Ben.”
“Got a font picked out?” He took a steadying breath. He started to wonder if he should maybe let Frankie down at his shop do it. She was damn good. Ben even let her touch up a few of his older pieces, the ones he couldn’t reach or do for himself in a mirror.
Nodding toward his phone on the table, Gavin said, “Should be open to the picture.”
Ben grabbed the phone and unlocked it. The alphabet, in a graceful font, popped up. He zoomed in on the B and said, “I think I can freehand this, if you’re cool with that.”
“I didn’t think you’d need to do a trace for your own name.” Gavin huffed a small, breathy laugh.
“Well,” Ben said as he slapped on some gloves, “if it’s not exactly like the picture, are you gonna sue me?”
Gavin grinned. “I’ve got better ways to punish you.”
God’s truth, right there. After wiping Gavin’s entire hand down, Ben didn’t load any ink at first, just popped the new needle in his gun and turned it on. “I’m gonna do a little line with nothing in it, okay? Want ya to see what it feels like.” He took Gavin’s finger and held it gently. “Try to relax,” he said as he dropped the needle onto Gavin’s skin.
He tensed for a beat, held his breath, but then Gavin let it out and said, “Oh.” He sounded relieved. “That’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”
Ben nodded, smiled. “You could’ve picked a more comfortable spot,” he said as he got the ink. “But you could’ve picked worse, so there’s that.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, no words, no music, just the constant buzz of the tiny motor. Ben went slowly, carefully, never looking away or pausing. By all rights, it should’ve been a ten- or fifteen-minute job—tops—but he needed it to be exactly right, needed a light touch, needed to make sure each curve, each swirl was distinct and crisp, flawless.
Gavin didn’t say anything, simply watched Ben work. When Ben turned his gun off, blotted the ink and blood with sterile gauze, Gavin said, “I’ve never seen you work before.”
“Sure you have,” Ben said. He had, hadn’t he? Gavin stopped by the shop sometimes, brought him lunch or dropped in just to hello if he was passing by.
“Nope. You always stop what you’re doing when I come into the shop.”
That was true. He’d pissed off a few customers, taking a break just because Gavin was there, but hey, breaks were necessary sometimes. “Well, you’re more important.”
Ben lifted his head and let Gavin take a look at the finished job. There was one cruel second there, a pause between Gavin looking down at his hand and then catching Ben’s eye, where Ben wondered, worried if he liked it. Then he saw the expression on Gavin’s face and he knew he’d done okay. “Yeah?” he asked.
Gavin only nodded at first, glanced down again and whispered, “Yeah.”
“Happy Birthday,” Ben said as he leaned in and kissed Gavin.
He pulled back and went about cleaning everything up, tossing the used paper, capping and removing the used needle. Then he loaded a fresh one, slipped his left glove off, and wiped down his own hand. He’d tattooed himself in the past, but getting the angle right on his own finger was going to be difficult.
“What’re you doing?” Gavin asked.
Ben paused just before he touched the needle to his finger. “This okay?” he asked. “Was it a big deal to have yours be… solo?” He didn’t want to ruin Gavin’s idea.
“No, just… You sure?”
There were a lot of things in life Ben regretted, a lot of things he’d probably grow to regret in the future. But not this. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever been really sure about, Gav.” Ben dipped his head again and started to draw Gavin’s name out. He took his time, just as he had earlier, wanting it to match, wanting it perfect.
Gavin didn’t take the opportunity to remind him about him kicking Gavin out, so, maybe they’d made even more progress than Ben had realized. Or maybe Gavin was saving it for another time.
Within a few quiet minutes, though, Ben had etched Gavin’s name into his skin. A promise between the two of them, sealed for the world to see.
Maybe Gavin had the right idea. Rings could get lost or stolen; they could fall down the toilet, slip off and go over the side of a boat into the ocean. Or even be discreetly tucked into a pocket if they became inconvenient. Not that he worried about that. But still.
He rubbed some salve over his new ink and then passed the pot to Gavin. There was something almost reverent in the way Gavin touched Ben’s name.
“You always said a tattoo should mean something,” Gavin whispered, as if confessing. “This was the only thing I could think of that really meant anything to me.”
Jesus. How was it that Gavin was the sledgehammer to Ben’s heart, and the only thing he needed to keep it beating? He didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply leaned in closer, threaded his fingers into Gavin’s hair, and pulled him into a long, slow kiss.
Less than an hour later, they had a little celebration in the kitchen. Tony came over to see Gavin. Anna called on Skype so she could be there with Gavin while he opened a few small presents. Her kids climbed all over her, said hello to everyone, and then went to bed before the end of the meal.
They ate dinner together, laughed, and joked. Gavin and Tina managed to find a few good memories worth bringing up. Ben didn’t like those bits of conversation, but he didn’t break the wineglass in his hand, so he called it a win.
Gavin let out a loud bark of laughter when he saw the cake Nora and Tina had made. A giant unicorn stretched across the top, crafted out of fluffy, sparkly frosting. A well-endowed male unicorn, to be precise.
“Oh, look, it’s your spirit animal,” Tony said.
Tina blushed, but she laughed too. “Nora did the, um. Detail work.”
“Well, someone had to do it,” Nora said with a laugh.
“Not really, Mom.” Ben lit the candles and set the cake in front of Gavin.
Before he blew them out, he looked around at the family, looked long at Ben and then at Tina and her round belly.
Afterward, Nora asked him what he wished for.
“I gave it to the bean,” Gavin said. He’d been calling his future niece or nephew that for a while. With a small shrug, he added, “I’ve got everything I want.”