Page 157 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

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.

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