It's a Monday afternoon when Bucky decides he wants to get his next tattoo. He hasn't gotten one in a while, and he's been aching to get that one of a snarling tiger that he saw that one time. He's been going to Gabriel for a while now, and he's ready to see him with a big smile when he walks into the tattoo parlor. But Gabriel's not there.

"Hey," he says, grabbing Morita by the shoulder. "Where's Gabriel?"

"He'll be out for a couple days. Sick with the flu or some'in."

"A'ight. I'll come back in a few days then," Bucky replies, nodding.

"Nah, man. We got a newbie. He's funny-lookin', but amazin' with a needle and ink. Steve!"

Bucky turns around as the guy in question pulls open the curtain and sticks his head out. "Yeah?"

"Yo," Morita says, "I got a guy for ya. Take good care of him, he's a regular."

"Will do," says Steve. "C'mon."

Bucky takes him in. He doesn't look like much, and definitely doesn't look like a tattoo artist, much less a good one. He's gotta be about 5'2", and he's real scrawny lookin'. He's got on this ratty old baseball cap tucked way down over his face, and Bucky can't see any tattoos that would lead him to believe this guy's any good.

"You sure about this guy?" he whispers to Morita.

"Look, man," he whispers back, "You just gotta trust me. He's good."

"Fine." Bucky shakes his head. "But you screw this up for me, you're dead."

"Yeah, yeah," Morita waves his hand carelessly in Bucky's direction. "Go get your damn tattoo."

Steve walks him into a small backroom, the walls littered with designs. Bucky takes a quick look around before Steve turns around and looks him in the eye.
"So, what'cha looking for today?" he asks, a slightly smile on his face.

As Bucky starts telling Steve exactly what he's looking for, Steve turns around and starts writing something on a piece of paper.

"and I want a—hey, hey. Are you even listening? Bucky asks angrily. "I don't want my tattoo artist blanking out and giving me some half-assed drawing of a dick on my back, now."

Steve giggles a bit. "No, don't worry. I'm just sketching out an initial design. Please, continue."

So Bucky keeps telling Steve exactly what he's looking for, occasionally sneaking glances at the scrawny guy who seems engrossed in his work. After a bit of waiting, Steve turns around, grinning, and shows him his drawing. "Good?" he asks.

"Wow. That's-"

"Exactly how you pictured it?" Steve interrupts, a cheeky grin on his face. "Yeah, I know. Now sit down."

Steve pushes Bucky face first into the chair. "Sit still," he orders.

"Sir, yes, sir," Bucky quips back, biting back a laugh.

For the next five hours, Steve works on Bucky's back, cracking jokes and telling him stories about his life. And wow. The way this kid focuses is like nothing Bucky's ever seen. He wonders if Steve's got any tattoos. Finally, he pulls back the needle and smiles. "Done," he says, sounding smug. "You wanna see?" And, yeah, Bucky really wants to see every inch of Steve's body, just to check for tattoos, of course.

Steve holds a mirror up so that Bucky can see his tattoo. And wow. It's incredible. There's a giant design of a snarling tiger wiped across his back, and it's amazingly lifelike. It's exactly what Bucky pictures. This kid, this scrawny little kid who looks like he belongs in a library, is the fucking Michelangelo of tattoo artists. He's never seen anything like it. He stares at it with his mouth open until Steven grins a sort of half grin and a little laugh escapes his mouth. "That good, huh?"

"Don't be getting cocky now," Bucky replies, a smirk on his face. "You got any tattoos?"

Steve looks down and shrugs. "Maybe."

"You wanna show 'em to me?"

Steven grins coyly. "Maybe."

Bucky figures there comes a point where he just can't control himself any longer, so he leans down and captures Steven's mouth with a bruising kiss.

And if Steve just melts against him, well, that's no one's business but his own. And if Bucky takes his time undressing him, kissing every tattoo, then he guesses he'll have to thank Gabriel for being sick.