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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 month ago

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An Unstoppable Force Meets An Immovable Object (Like a Tattoo on My Heart)

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick, Hangman, Rooster, Hangster, Jake's POV, Tattoo Artist!Rooster AU Summary: After losing a late-night drunken bet, Jake stumbles into a random tattoo shop. There he meets the shop's headstrong (and handsome) owner, Bradley, who refuses to tattoo Jake while he is drunk. But after some smooth talking and negotiation, Jake gets his way...or so he thinks. Word Count: 6066 TW: Tattoo AU, Drunken Behavior, Hangover, Getting a Tattoo, Language Notes: This series is 100% a result of the support, encouragement, beta reading, and late night/early morning DMs with @green-socks 💞 Thank you!!! 💗

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Stumbling along a few dozen feet behind his friend, Jake groaned as he called out, “Dude…Come on…Let’s just go. This obviously isn’t gonna happen tonight.”

Javy didn’t stop moving but he turned to face Jake so he was now walking backwards. Perfect teeth shining in the streetlights, he called back, “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting out of this bet that easily. I finally beat you at a bar game—”

“‘Cause you got me absolutely hammered!”

“—and I’m not letting you worm your way out of your punishment that easily. There’s gotta still be a place open at this time of night.” Javy spun around and continued down the sidewalk, peering down every side alley he passed looking for the glow of an open shop window.

Jake sighed as he trudged after him, trying his best to keep the world from spinning and his numerous drinks from making a reappearance. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this drunk without blacking out and he was already dreading the hangover that would greet him in the morning. That was if he was ever allowed to give up this hopeless quest and slink home to his bed. Though, he should probably shower first since he spilled his last drink all over himself. But he could wait until morning since he had already called in sic—

“Fuck yes! I found one!”

Jake’s head whipped around and he promptly fell into the adjacent wall. There was no fucking way that Javy found a tattoo shop that was still open at this time on a Thursday night. Or, more accurately, a Friday morning.

Yet, as Jake caught up to his friend and peered down the alleyway, he saw what indeed appeared to be a tattoo shop with its lights still on. In fact, the massive red neon sign in the window cast a warm yet somewhat ominous glow down the entire–otherwise deserted–alleyway. The sign was shaped like a giant rooster (it kind of reminded Jake of the logo on a sriracha bottle) with the words “The Roost” blazing beneath it. It seemed like something you’d expect at a fast-food chicken restaurant, not a tattoo shop. Yet a quick glance through the window proved that was, indeed, exactly what it was. As did the sign reading “Tattoos and Piercings” just to the right of the rooster.

Clasping his hand firmly on Jake’s shoulder, Javy grinned. “Well, buddy, time to settle up.” And he half-dragged Jake into the shop.

The interior was fairly dark. All the lights had been dimmed, save the neon sign still casting its glow inside, and the parts of the walls not covered with sketches of tattoos were painted black. A small display was set up to the right showing off a variety of piercings available. There were several chairs lined against the front wall and a dark counter sat just beyond the entrance with a computer, cash register, and a bell arranged on top.

For a moment or two, Javy moseyed around the front of the shop while Jake leaned heavily on the counter trying to stop the room from spinning, both waiting to see if someone would appear. When no one did, Javy leaned over and tapped the bell a few times as he called out, “Hello?”

They heard some shuffling from the back and, a moment later, a guy emerged from the darkness wiping his hands on a rag.

Jake wasn’t sure if it was because he was so drunk or that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while, but when he got a good look at the guy as he walked into the better-lit part of the shop, he inhaled sharply. Fuck, this guy was hot.

Maybe only an inch or two taller than Jake, the new arrival seemed to fill the shop as he sauntered towards them with a laidback ease. His sun-bronzed skin was nearly hidden beneath dozens of intricate tattoos. Both of his arms and hands were covered with them and a few more peeked out from under the collar of his tightly-fitting black t-shirt and licked at his neck. The tattoos seemed to dance when his bulging muscles flexed as he placed his hands on his hips. Chestnut waves fell across his forehead and curled around his ears while a neatly trimmed mustache sat atop a pair of full lips which parted as he asked, “Yeah? What can I help you guys with?”

When Jake didn’t respond but just continued staring with his mouth hanging open, Javy grinned knowingly and elbowed him in the side. “My friend here needs a tattoo. I was thinking maybe a large tramp stamp or a butterfly flying out his ass would suit him well.”

Quickly pulling himself together, Jake shoved Javy away with a muttered, “Oh, fuck off.” Turning back to the guy, he flashed him a coy smile. “I lost a bet so it seems I’m at your mercy.”

The guy’s eyes slowly scanned Jake then Javy. With a sigh, he tossed his rag onto the counter. “Sorry, fellas. Can’t help you with that.”

Jake blinked in surprise. “Why not? The sign says open til 4am. It’s—” Jake glanced at his watch but the numbers swam before his eyes in the dim lighting. Shaking his head slightly, he said, “Well, not that.”

“Oh, I’m open. But did you read the other sign on the door?” Both Jake and Javy just stared blankly at him so the guy sighed again with a slight roll of his eyes. “‘We have the right to refuse service to anyone—especially if you are drunk.’”

“There’s no way in hell it says that.” Javy stormed over to the door and stuck his head out. “Well, I’ll be damned. It does.”

Coming back inside, he implored the guy, “Come on, man! We’ve been looking for a shop for almost an hour. This is the only place that’s still open!”

“Sorry. My shop, my rules.”

“‘Your’ shop?” Jake asked.

The guy’s eyes flickered to Jake. “Yeah. My shop. I’m the owner as well as one of the artists. Which means I get to decide who gets what, when, and under what conditions. So, come back tomorrow and I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll even make you an appointment. But tonight, it’s not gonna happen.” The guy folded his arms across his chest.

Now, Jake didn’t want the tattoo. In fact, he’d actively been trying to stop Javy from finding a place all night. But the only thing he hated more than losing to a friend was losing to a stranger—no matter how attractive he might be.

So, he flashed his most charming smile and said, “Come on, man. We’re not even that drunk. We just had a few beers and that was hours ago.”

“I highly doubt that,” the guy muttered under his breath. Jake’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward as he opened his mouth to unleash a tirade against the tattoo artist for calling him a liar, but the other man cut him off before he could utter his first expletive. “Deny it all you want, but I could smell the alcohol wafting off you guys the second you stepped foot in here. And, whether you realize it or not, you’re slurring your words and look like you’re about to fall over at any minute.”

That stopped Jake in his tracks. To him, he might be feeling a few effects of the dozen or so drinks he had consumed that night, but nothing too serious or noticeable. However, he had seen videos Javy had taken of him in the past where he thought he was his usual suave, dashing self. When in reality, he looked like he did right after waking up from getting his wisdom teeth removed: drooling, incoherent, and barely remaining upright.

So there was a strong possibility it was apparent he had had more than a few drinks tonight.

Still not ready to throw in the towel, Jake stared the guy down and spat, “Oh, you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? Knocking me down, turning me away. I’m trying to be a paying customer! Just take my money already, give me a fucking tattoo, and stop being such an ass about it!”

The guy sighed. “Listen, I’m not being an ass because I enjoy it.” He paused then shrugged. “Well, not only because I enjoy it. But alcohol thins out your blood so you bleed more and it doesn’t clot like it’s supposed to. That can lead to infections and a shitty finished product, neither of which I want on reviews for my shop when you’re unhappy with the results.”

“I’ll sign whatever waivers or contracts or whatever you want me to saying I know the risks and accept full responsibility if something happens. Hell, you can even include a clause saying the only review I’m allowed to post is one where I say it was the greatest experience I’ve ever had, the work was immaculate, and you finished me off with the best blowjob of my life.”

The guy raised one eyebrow. “Not sure I want that on reviews for my shop either.”

Jake threw his hands into the air. “Whatever! Just, come on, please!”

The guy considered for a long moment, his fingers running across his mustache as he pondered. Finally, he sighed. Shaking his head as he stared at the floor, he muttered, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Jake grinned. “Haven’t had anyone regret me yet.” Javy snorted behind him but he ignored his friend. Clapping his hands together, he asked, “So, we doing this?”

Taking a deep breath, the guy said, “Fine. I’ll give you a tattoo. But on one condition.”

Buzzing from his victory, Jake bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”

“I get to pick the design and neither of you get to see it until it’s done.”

Jake froze as he felt the blood drain from his face. There was no telling what this guy might pick and it would be on his body for the rest of his life. He had already been concerned when Javy first brought up the bet about how a tattoo would go over if someone at work saw it, and that was when he thought it would be dumb or embarrassing. What if this guy picked something outright offensive or explicit? What if he wanted to place it somewhere that was hard to hide?

Licking his lips, Jake pointed over his shoulder to where Javy had been sitting in one of the chairs. “Sorry, but the bet was that he got to pick it out so—”

“Oh no, I like this idea better,” Javy chuckled, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I was just going to pick the stupidest design in the book—no offense—but he’s got to have seen thousands of terrible tattoos. So whatever he wants is fine by me.”

The guy nodded at Javy then turned to Jake with a smug smirk, his hands planted on his hips. “Well, what’ll be, cowboy? We doing this?”

Every part of Jake was screaming to say no. Even through the fog in his mind, he knew this was a terrible idea. However, his ego wouldn’t let him back down. Not now after he worked so hard to charm this guy into breaking his rule for him. Plus, while he knew Javy wouldn’t fight him if he said no, his friend also would never let him hear the end of it if he didn’t go through with it. So, Jake did the only thing he could do. Taking off his jacket and throwing it at Javy’s face, he said, “Let’s do this.”

“Okay. Follow me.” The guy began to head back into the darker part of the shop he had come from. Glancing over his shoulder as he went, he said, “I’m Bradley, by the way.”

Trailing after him, focusing really intently on walking in a straight line, Jake said, “Jake. And that’s Javy.”

Javy raised his hand from his place behind Jake. “Sup.”

Bradley reached a station in the very back of the shop, sat in the chair, and flipped on the overhead light. It was the biggest, most elaborate station Jake had seen in the shop with two full walls decorated with pictures of tattoos, a long counter full of tools and inks, several large cabinets, a rolling cart covered in ink stains, a fancy-looking leather chair, and an adjustable table that was currently in an upright position. Bradley plopped down into the chair and gestured for Jake to sit on the table. As Bradley began sorting through the inks set out on the cart next to him, Jake did as he was told while Javy laid down on one of the nearby tables that was laid fully flat. He was still close enough to interact with the duo but, lying down, he didn’t have a direct line of sight to Jake in the chair so he wouldn’t be able to see what Bradley was tattooing.

Bradley swiveled to face Jake. “I’m gonna place it on one of your upper arms just below your shoulder. But I’m feeling generous so I’ll let you pick which arm.”

Not seeing where it mattered, Jake muttered, “Right, I guess.”

“You got it.”

Bradley reached out and pushed Jake’s sleeve up, his fingers brushing against his skin. Jake shivered slightly. The tattoo artist’s fingers were rough and calloused, but they were also warm, and Jake wished the brief contact had lasted longer. But then Bradley was scrubbing his arm with some sort of damp cloth—assumedly with a disinfectant or cleaner on it—and though it wasn’t the kind of contact Jake had been hoping for, it was still nice in its own way.

However, once Bradley picked up a tattoo gun off the counter, Jake felt the color drain from his face. Jake was no stranger to pain. He had played football since he was 5 years old up until he graduated college. He had broken at least six bones in his lifetime and had to get two different surgeries so they’d heal properly. He had been in a car accident where his friend had been driving after a night of drinking and, to this day, no one knew how either of them walked away from it even in the condition they did. The point was, pain had been a frequent part of his life for as long as he could remember and he took it in stride.

However, needles…he didn’t like needles.

So, as Bradley placed the gun against his arm, he gripped the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. He saw Bradley glance down at his hands but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned on the machine and pressed it to Jake’s arm.

The sensation that shot through him was not the one he was expecting. It wasn’t comfortable, but it also wasn’t painful. At all. It felt more like a vibration shooting deep into his muscle than pain.

And as Bradley continued, Jake slowly released his death-grip on the chair with a soft, “Wow.”

“What?” Bradley mumbled, not looking up from what he was doing.

“Nothing. I just…I thought it would hurt. But it just feels tingly and a little…itchy?”

Bradley scoffed. “I guess that’s the one good part about getting a tattoo drunk. It dulls your nerves so you don’t feel it.” He continued working for several minutes before asking, “So, is this your first tattoo?”

Jake nodded, willing himself not to look down at what was happening on his arm. “Yeah. I’ve thought about getting one before but never went through with it.”

Bradley grinned. “Oh, a virgin, huh? Well, I’m honored to pop your cherry.” Jake felt his face flush slightly but he tried to control his expression. Whether Bradley noticed or not, he wasn’t sure, but the tattoo artist changed the subject. “So, I know you’re here tonight because of this bet, but what’s kept you away until now?”

“My job isn’t very approving of them. So it’s just been easier not to risk it.”

“Let me guess…finance?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

Bradley paused to dip the tattoo gun in the ink next to him. “I clocked it the moment you two walked in.”

Jake raised his eyebrow. “I thought you said you smelled the alcohol as soon as we walked in.”

“Alcohol and finance bros. Don’t they often go hand in hand?” Bradley started tattooing again. “But, no. You guys all just have an air about you. Like how you hold yourself or something. It’s not hard to spot once you begin to notice it.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Both men fell silent. The only sounds echoing through the deserted shop were the constant buzz of the tattoo gun and Javy’s loud snoring from the nearby table where he evidently fell asleep.

However, the anxiety of the situation added to the fact that alcohol had a tendency to put Jake in a talkative mood soon had him talking again. It wasn’t a real conversation this time, he just rambled on about whatever came to mind—sports, hobbies, even the goddamn weather—all the while Bradley continued working on his arm. The artist didn’t contribute much other than the occasional grunt or hum in acknowledgment of whatever Jake was saying, but Jake did notice him trying to hide a smile a few times. After that, it became Jake’s mission to get a real smile out of him before his work was done—a task he succeeded in several times and, to his delight, even managed to get a real chuckle out of him.

Jake had almost forgotten the reason they were sitting there until Bradley sat back and placed his tattoo gun on the tray. “Well, I think we’re done. Just give me a minute to wipe it down with an antibacterial wash and wrap it up, then you’ll be good to go.”

Jake sat up straighter in his chair. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep. That’s it.” Bradley took a cloth and rubbed it across the area he had been working on. Then, he peeled a piece of plastic off something sitting on his table and quickly pressed a piece of paper over Jake’s arm. Taking a damp cloth, he rubbed it over the paper and held it there for a moment. Once he removed it, he grabbed some sort of bandage and began wrapping it up.

“Uh…” Jake asked. “Aren’t you going to let me see it?”

“Nope. Not tonight,” Bradley said, finishing up his work. “As expected, it’s bleeding more than it should so I had to wrap it as soon as possible to limit infection and damage to your skin. But you should be good to take it off when you wake up tomorrow and get a good look at it.”

“Great,” Jake muttered under his breath. He wasn’t thrilled he’d have to wait to assess how much of a mistake this had been. Sliding off his chair, he walked over and thumped Javy in the chest. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, nap time’s over.”

Javy bolted upright, then immediately collapsed back clutching his head. “Fuck…”

“I’d feel bad about that if I hadn’t just had hundreds of needles punched into me because of you.”

“Next time don’t make a bet you aren’t willing to lose.” Javy slowly squinted one eye at Jake. “So, what'd ya get?”

“Don’t know yet. Can’t look until tomorrow.” He held out his hand and helped his friend to his feet. Then, turning back to Bradley, he flashed a smile. “Thanks again for making an exception. It ended up not being as bad as I thought it would be.”

Something seemed to sparkle in Bradley’s eyes as he said, “I’m sure there’s a reason for that.” Then he clapped his hands together before Jake could dwell on what he meant. “I’ve gotta clean up here but you guys can see yourselves out. I'll lock up when I’m done.”

“Cool, thanks,” Javy said, still holding his head. “I think I need to go home and lay down.”

Jake rolled his eyes but then cast one last look at Bradley. He didn’t know what he had expected to happen. There had been no indication that Bradley was even into guys, yet as Jake thought of his fingers brushing across the skin of his arm, the intense gaze in his soulful brown eyes as he worked, and his chuckle at Jake’s story, Jake couldn’t help but wish this wasn’t goodbye.

With Javy already stumbling out the front door, Jake had no choice but to hold up his hand, give Bradley one last smile, and follow his friend out of the shop.

Though no one was left to hear him, Bradley laughed and shook his head as he looked towards the front of the shop. “Goodbye, Jake. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other real soon.”

Pain.

That’s all Jake felt when he clawed himself back to consciousness the next morning. Pain starting from the center of his head and radiating out throughout the rest of his body. He tried to shift slightly to adjust his sweat-dampened sheets that clung to him but immediately moaned as fresh waves of pain and nausea flowed through his system. He hadn’t had a hangover this bad since the firm’s last New Year’s Eve party where there was an open bar. Fucking Javy and his fucking underhanded scheme to finally beat him at something.

Oh god.

Jake’s eyes snapped open—only to wince in pain—as he remembered the bet he had made and subsequently lost. A quick glance at the bandage still wrapped around his arm was all the confirmation he needed that they had carried out the terms of the bet. Jake was struggling to remember more than a few flashes from last night, but he did remember that.

Taking several deep breaths, he eased himself out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. After vomiting, the world stopped spinning quite as much, so Jake braced himself and stepped in front of his mirror. Carefully, he unwrapped the bandage and got his first look at his new tattoo.

“What the fuck?”

There, reflected in the mirror, was a square, decorative border stretching from the peak of his shoulder to just above his elbow. There was a weird design or symbols at the bottom that seemed sort of distorted from the curve of his arm. However, Jake only glanced at that for a moment, seeing as his attention was focused on the image framed inside.

It was a massive stylized chicken.

Looking closer, it kind of reminded Jake of the sriracha logo. That’s when it clicked. He got a flash of this same design in red neon hanging in the window of the shop they stopped at, though he couldn’t recall the name under it.

The tattoo guy had inked his fucking shop logo onto Jake's arm.

Jake continued to stare at the design in the mirror, hoping it was just a hallucination. But no matter how long he stared at it, it didn't change or go away. It just continued to stare back at him in all its inky glory.

“What the fuck!”

Five hours.

That’s how long Jake wandered the city looking for the shop from last night. His call to Javy immediately after rushing out of the bathroom had been absolutely useless in helping him narrow down his search. Once Javy finally stopped crying from laughter at Jake’s predicament, they compared notes from the night before. Neither one of them could remember anything between leaving the bar and arriving at the tattoo shop. And even the details of their time there were hazy. All they could really agree on was that there was a guy working there who agreed to tattoo Jake if he could pick out the design. Jake couldn’t even remember the guy’s name or what he looked like, he just had a vague image of him and that his name started with a B or something.

So, after a quick search of “chicken tattoo shops” turned up nothing useful, Jake had begun walking around the city trying to come across the shop just like they had the night before. He passed dozens of shops, but none of them had a large neon chicken sign in the window so he continued on. Looking back on it later, he realized he should have gone into one of these shops, shown them the tattoo, and asked if they recognized the logo. But he would have been too embarrassed to do so even if the thought had crossed his mind.

After the eighth time backtracking to the bar and branching off in a direction they might have headed the night before, Jake finally found what he was looking for.

As soon as he peered down the correct alley, he was greeted with a bright red glow from the neon sign in the window and he hurried down until he stopped in front of the shop and its ridiculous chicken logo. It was the same image as the one now inked into his skin. And as Jake noticed the name of the shop underneath it, his face grew as red as the sign as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

When he was looking at the tattoo in the mirror, he only glanced at the border for a second before focusing on the chicken in the center. If he had given it any more than that first cursory glance, he would have probably noticed that what he had taken as weird symbols or decoration had, in fact, been the name of the shop reflected backwards in the mirror. But between the stylized font and the way it stretched on Jake’s arm, it had never occurred to him that his answer had been there the entire time.

Throwing open the door, Jake stormed into The Roost.

The woman behind the counter didn’t seem the least bit fazed by his over-the-top entrance. From what Jake could remember from the previous night, she looked exactly like the kind of person he would expect to be working here. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail showing off each ear completely pierced with a dozen or so gold hoops. She was sporting a matching septum ring. Her black strapless shirt clung to her body and allowed two full sleeves of tattoos to be on full display. As she turned slightly, Jake noticed the one on her right arm looked like a flaming bird taking flight.

She lazily looked up from the binder she was writing in and blew a bubble with her gum as she stared at Jake. When it popped, she asked, “Can I help you?”

Jake was momentarily taken aback by her demeanor but quickly recovered and regained his determination. Marching up to the counter, he said, “Yeah. I’m looking for someone who works here. I think his name started with a B? Tall guy. Brown hair. Lots of tattoos. Ridiculous mustache.”

“Oh!” Her face lit up as a knowing smile spread across her face. Leaning back, she said, “You must be Jake. Rooster said you’d be in sometime today.”

“Rooster?” The feeling of stupidity Jake was feeling only grew. Of course it wasn’t just a chicken in the logo—it was a rooster. That might explain why he never found anything when he searched online. He should have looked for “rooster tattoo shop” instead.

She shrugged. “Bradley. He’s Rooster to all of us, but depending on the client, he sometimes uses his real name. Guess you were one of the lucky ones.”

The anger that had been brewing in Jake’s chest all day reached a boiling point. Not only had this guy branded him with his shop logo, but it was also his nickname. What kind of sick son of a bitch did he meet last night?

Through gritted teeth, he growled, “Is he here?”

The woman nodded. “Yeah, he’s working on someone right now but he told me to bring you back if you showed up.” Stepping out from behind the counter, she motioned for Jake to follow her as she headed deeper into the shop.

They passed a few other stations with customers in various stages of getting tattooed. A pale man with glasses was applying an elaborate stencil to a young woman's arm. At another station, a guy with buzzed hair and bronze skin was finishing up a photo-realistic tattoo of Captain America holding his shield on some guy’s thigh. Both were very impressive and made Jake even more upset that he got stuck with this feathery monstrosity.

As they neared the back—Jake was beginning to get a very fuzzy memory of this place from the night before—the woman called out, “Hey, Roo! You’ve got a visitor.”

At the very last station that seemed to take up the whole back wall, a man was lying on his stomach on the table while someone leaned over him tattooing on his shoulder blade. When he heard the woman call out, the artist glanced up then grinned as he saw Jake hot on her heels. For a moment, Jake’s rage fizzled out as he got his first look at Brad—Rooster sober. The hazy drunken version of the man did not do him justice and, in any other situation, Jake would have immediately slipped into flirtation mode.

However, this was a unique circumstance.

Pushing past the woman, Jake stormed up to Rooster. “What the fuck, dude!”

Rooster chuckled softly as he shook his head. Glancing at the woman, he said, “Thanks, Phe. I’ve got it from here.”

She muttered something under her breath that Jake couldn’t make out before she walked away.

Tapping the man he had been tattooing on his side, Rooster said, “Hey, I’ve gotta take care of something but I’ll be right back. Give you a chance to take a breather before we finish up.” The man muttered an unfazed “whatever” and Rooster swung his chair around to face Jake. Grinning like a cat that got the cream, he said, “I’ve been wondering when you’d stumble back in here. Like my work? I think it suits you. You looking for another one already?”

“Cut the shit. You turned me into a walking billboard? How fucked up is that!”

Rooster held out his hands. “You agreed that I could pick any design I wanted. That’s what I picked.”

“I don’t care what we agreed on! It’s pretty much assumed ‘free advertisement for your shop’ was excluded from your selection!” Jake shivered at the thought. “God, I feel like a whore or something.”

Rooster rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?”

“I have the right to be dramatic right now!” Jake could feel every eye in the shop on him at the moment, but he didn’t care. Well, he did, but at the moment, he cared about what was etched on his arm more. With his cheeks burning and his voice breaking slightly, he demanded, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t…I can’t walk around with this on me for the rest of my life.”

For a moment, Rooster just sat there staring at him. Then, silently, he rose from his seat and took a few steps towards Jake, stopping so close that Jake could feel his breath brushing against his face. Refusing to meet his eye, Jake stared straight ahead, right at Rooster’s mustache…and his full lips.

“Hey, Jake, look at me.”

Jake still refused to budge. That is until Rooster placed his finger under his chin and tilted his head up. Completely taken aback, Jake allowed it to happen and his eyes met Rooster’s. They were softer, sweeter, more compassionate than Jake was expecting from him and he felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders simply from staring into the other man’s eyes.

Giving him a small smile, Rooster not unkindly whispered, “Maybe next time you won’t push someone to get your way when they tell you no.”

Using his teeth to grab the tip of one of the latex gloves he was wearing, Rooster peeled it off his hand. Then, after spitting the glove to the side, he slowly slid his now bare middle finger between his lips. Jake watched in fascination, his mind short-circuiting from what he was seeing. The only two thoughts running through his brain were “what the hell is going on” and “why do I find this insanely hot”.

Rooster pulled his finger out of his mouth with a pop, then reached out with his dampened middle finger and rubbed Jake’s tattoo. Hard. When he pulled it away, the ink where he had touched was now peeling and flaking off.

Realizing what was happening, Jake’s head snapped up as his jaw dropped. “It’s a fucking fake?!”

Rooster stepped back smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We tend to call them temporaries. We hand smaller ones out at events and such for a little advertisement or promotion. But I had a few larger ones made too just in case a situation came up we might be able to use one…turns out, one finally did.”

Jake looked back down to the tattoo on his arm then up to Rooster then down to his arm again. Once he finally grasped the situation, he shoved Rooster in the chest (the other man barely moved) with a loud “What the fuck, dude!” However, there was a laugh of relief in his voice as he did so.

Now that he knew the truth and he wasn’t facing a future with this plastered on his arm for the rest of his life, he could see where it was already starting to crack in several places. If he had actually inspected it this morning or showered as he had planned (he was sure he still smelled of stale beer) instead of immediately jumping into panic mode, he would have discovered the ruse hours ago. It also now made perfect sense why he never felt any pain while he was being tattooed. Rooster must have been using the gun without the needle so all Jake felt were the vibrations of the machine.

After trying several times to find something snappy or sarcastic to say, Jake finally settled on, “But why?”

“Sometimes when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, you have to find a way to get the force to shift paths slightly. You weren’t going to leave here without a tattoo and I was never going to ink you. So, I found a way for us both to get what we wanted. Yeah, I could have just wrapped your arm up without putting the temporary tattoo there but where’s the fun in that.” Rooster’s smug expression softened slightly as his arms fell to his side. “And, selfishly, I was hoping you’d fall for it and use the logo to track me down.”

“Why would you want me to find you again?”

“Well, for one, I figured once you had sobered up you might want to actually get a real one and I felt like I owed you that. So think about it and let me know if you decide you want one. I promise no tricks this time and I can work with you to find a design you actually want. But right now, I’ve gotta get back to work.” Rooster walked back to the table where his client was still lying. Sitting back in the seat, he grabbed a new glove from out of a box on the tray next to him and pulled it on.

Feeling a bit dismissed but always wanting to have the final word, Jake scoffed. “All this trouble just to get me back in your chair, huh? Guess I left quite the impression on you.”

“Yeah. You did. Which is the other reason I was hoping you’d come back. This way I get to ask you out for dinner. ” As he picked up the tattoo gun, Rooster glanced at Jake with a grin. “So let me know what you think of that too.”

Jake sputtered in disbelief as Rooster winked at him then leaned forward to continue his work.

Thank you for reading this first part of my new series! It's going to be more a series of connected one-shots rather than a traditional series. New updates coming soon! If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know! 💕

Tagging a few people I think might be interested (but let me know if you'd like to be removed):

@green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah, @lorecraft, @nerdysuperchick, @writercole, @the-girlsastraightup-hustler, @anniearmitage, @cherrycola27, @blue-eyed-mary, @thats-the-truth, @artemisiasolzhenitsyn, @beezelarts, @c-est-ta-fille-rousse, @yukaisbrainrottingoversanegiyuu, @pastelpoppies, @phisworld14

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