harmony
Evan~
“Hold still, won’t you?” complained Evan as Barty squirmed underneath him. Barty was still, for a few minutes, then resumed his squirming. The interaction gave Evan a horrible feeling of deja vu that he couldn’t place.
He was in the midst of giving Barty a new tattoo. This happened every other month or so, and although some of them were only semi-permanent, Evan was beginning to worry that they were going to run out of space. Perhaps that was the point, but then Barty wouldn’t be able to get anything new. Currently he was outlining a long, curling centipede in dark ink over Barty’s torso.
“Are you almost done?” he whined.
“Take a guess,” quipped Evan, deep in concentration as he traced the line of a body segment.
“You are?” guessed Barty hopefully.
“Guess again.”
“You aren’t,” he sighed disappointedly.
“I’m not.” confirmed Evan.
“How much longer?”
“Few hours.”
“You’re joking,” he groaned.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“Oh fuck off.”
Sensing that Barty was getting tired, Evan retracted his wand (which he was using as a needle with a crafty spell Pandora had invented).
“Smoke break?” he suggested.
“Thought you’d never ask,” smiled Barty, getting to his feet.
Evan fished his wizard cigarettes out from his bedside table, and Barty retrieved his own muggle ones. The two of them went over to the biggest window in the dorm and cranked it open. Barty didn’t bother to put on a shirt, even if the air was a little crisp outside. The pair settled down next to the window and Evan lit their cigarettes with the tip of his wand.
“You’re gonna run out of space one of these days,” commented Evan as he blew out a cloud of swirling, glittering, purple smoke. It curled into the shape of a bird as it soared out the window. Evan was quite proud of his smoke-blowing abilities, even if Pan was worlds better than him.
“You think?” asked Barty, his own grey smoke billowing around his face.
“Well I don’t know,” admitted Evan, who wasn’t really sure what Barty wanted with his tattoos, other than to get back at his father, “What do you think?”
Barty exhaled another cloud of grey smoke.
“Not sure,” he replied, “I don’t really have a plan. I don’t really have any strong opinions in general, I usually just agree with whatever hot people say.”
Evan frowned.
“Well maybe you should have your own opinions, Bats,” he suggested.
“You’re so right,” agreed Barty.
“Exact–
Evan stopped himself, and frowned deeply. Barty laughed at him.
“I’m just pulling your leg,” joked Barty, “It’s true I don’t really have a plan, but I’ve got my own ideas.”
“You always do,” droned Evan, exhaling a cluster of six indigo dragonflies that buzzed above their heads before following the way the purple bird had flown. “So what are those ideas?” he prompted.
“Well…” mused Barty, “I definitely want more tattoos. I’ll get them until I can’t get anymore and then I’ll replace all those semi-permanent ones every now and then to keep it fun. I was thinking after this centipede,” he gestured needlessly to his side, where the fresh ink was decorating his pale skin, “Maybe I should get a rose,” he paused dramatically and Evan felt his stomach flip.
“A rose?” he parrotted, more than a little dumbfounded.
“Mhmm,” hummed Barty innocently, blowing out more smoke, “But I’m not sure where. Maybe on my throat?” Evan practically forgot how to breathe, “Or maybe… on my thigh?” Barty was doing it on purpose, wasn’t he? He had to be. “Or maybe my lower back,” Evan choked, “What d’you think Rosie?”
“Why do you want a rose?” he questioned sternly.
“Roses are my favourite flower,” replied Barty easily, “Didn’t you know? Rosie?”
“I wasn’t aware you knew what plants were,” deadpanned Evan, who often criticised Barty for staying inside all the time.
“Oh, Evs, be nice,” he chided.
Not trusting himself to say anything, Evan brought his cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag. He blew out a frenzy of fluttering dark red butterflies. Barty gazed up at them smugly.
“Or maybe I could have the rose tattoo on my–
“I’m not tattooing your arse,” interrupted Evan, reading Barty’s mind. Barty smirked as Evan took another long drag of his cigarette. Evan leaned in and looked Barty right in his dark eyes. “If you’re nice I’ll do your throat.” he suggested charitably, blowing smoke into Barty’s parted lips. This time the clouds were pink, like rose quartz, thought Evan. It mixed with the grey from Barty’s cigarette and Evan leaned back.
“I feel lucky,” breathed Barty.
“Let’s finish the centipede before we move onto anything else,” said Evan.
“I have a few ideas for what we could move onto,” grinned Barty.
“Good things come to those who wait,” repeated Evan easily. He took a final drag of his cigarette (and blew out some dark green centipedes) before turning back to his bed so they could resume the tattooing.
Barty~
Barty lay on his front over Evan’s bed, staring up at the many plants, crystals, pendants, symbols and charms that hung around the bedpost and curtains. Evan was beside him, on a stool they’d transfigured out of one of the drawers from Barty’s bedside table (the contents of which Barty had dumped unceremoniously on his own bed), using his wand as a needle to carefully ink the body of a centipede into Barty’s skin. It was one of Barty’s favourite tattoos so far, and it wasn’t even finished yet.
Then again, he was also quite fond of the ‘LUCKY YOU’ on his lower stomach, printed in neat, even letters by Evan dearest. There was also the ‘cyber sigilism’ pattern on his shoulder blades and the back of his left hand that he loved so much. And of course Barty couldn’t forget the scorpion on the bottom of his foot. Or the bat in flight on his right shoulder that blinked, snarled and flapped its wings at people.
But Barty had a feeling his favourite tattoo of them all would be the rose on his throat.