A/N: This was spawned by an anon asking me on tumblr about what tattoos I thought Andy and April would have, if any. That spiraled way out of control and led to this. So, in a way, it's kind of dedicated to that first anon.
It was honestly just kind of an excuse to picture Aubrey with a shedload of tattoos.
Walking down the dinky, uncultured streets of Pawnee is never an eventful experience. On top of pockmarked sidewalks and streets laden with potholes, there isn't much to really catch your eye in the small Indiana city. People rarely walk around, more likely to be in their terrible, middle-class cars with the windows rolled down and some song from the Top 40 playing far too loudly or bass shaking windows out of their tracks, and they never seem to care about anyone in their path. A cyclist could be in their lane, or even on the sidewalk, and the likelihood of that bicycle being crushed is higher than that driver being on their way to Paunch Burger.
And, to be honest, that's way too damn high.
People walking around are always the worst, though. The town has its share of crazies, but for the most part it seems relatively liberal or its denizens are making kids that can think beyond their own means for more than a moment, but nothing is worse than being ogled. April doesn't mind it that often, because she knows how she must look to the rest of this town. In a sea of "clean" suburbanites with sweaters tied around their waists, discussing the next PTA meeting, she's walking around with her arms bared and the neckline of her shirt only barely revealing. No one will dare ask her what the litany of ink means across her arms, or why she even has some trailing up from the neckline in her shirt to her neck, so it's best to avoid them. She looks down at the twin hands curling up above her collarbone and remembers the intense, almost deafening twisting pain there. The wings beside them, poking out onto her chest and feathers from them scattered on her shoulders, have a painful memory as well, but all in all she's happy to look away from them and love what they say, and what they mean to her. She just has to wade through, at most, six or seven people that will stare at her chest and arms like they've never seen a tattoo in their life.
They'll only get between her and her goal, anyways: Just the Tip. It's honestly the worst name for a tattoo parlor she's ever heard, but the reputation is beyond anything else she can trust and April doesn't have the money to go anywhere else. She needs to finish this sleeve now before the gaping hole in her forearm becomes even more obnoxious to look at.
When she cuts to the corner where the shop is, she expects something even worse than what she finds. It's an assuming corner shop, just a little hole in the wall, and it doesn't seem as particularly raccoon infested as everywhere else this side of town. It couldn't be that bad. There's no dim lights flickering above the entrance, just a plain door with plain windows and a plain sign. A little disappointed, clutching the folder with her art inside, April opens the door and steps foot into a pleasant smelling room with quiet music playing. It's a Pearl Jam song she doesn't know the name of - she really only knows it's Pearl Jam because of Eddie Vedder's stupid voice - and the lights aren't ready to go out. She'd even go so far as to call it an establishment. When she looks around, she sees a guy in a plaid shirt tapping his fingers in steady rhythm on a table. She looks back towards the door leading to the back rooms but no one seems to want to meet her. Just that guy in the plaid and, when he turns around, calls out to her with an excited voice.
"Hey," he says cheerily, walking a few steps over to her. "Hi, I'm Andy."
"Great," she nods and sighs. "Do you know when the guy that works here is gonna be in? I heard he's the best in this terrible town."
"Thank you," this Andy says with a wide grin, all teeth.
"No, I mean... oh, really?" she laughs and appraises him again.
She expected someone with... well, with more tattoos. A big, beefy guy who she can look over. Hell, give him a handlebar or make him a stereotypical biker. Something other than a fairly chubby guy with stubble, no art to speak of, and two bright eyes with a smile to match them. He's incredibly tall, too, but maybe that's just April's perspective doing one over on her. She expected a squat, inked up biker with a bad cigar habit and instead got this grunge-loving baby face. Maybe he was a piercing guy, but when she glances over him again he's totally clean. Nothing on his ears, his lip, his nose... nothing.
"Yeah, and I'm open right now," he walks over to the table and sits on it, watching her. "You wanna get something done today or-"
"Actually, I have this idea for something to finish my sleeve," she shows him her left arm and the blank space there, and Andy nods in understanding. "And since I hear you're so good, I was thinking about getting it done today."
"Lemme take a look at it," he walks over and takes the folder.
Opening it, he looks over the small sheet. A sea of clouds surrounds a meticulously drawn sun, with two small figures holding hands and standing on the cloud. She always liked that imagery, and the way one of them points at the sun was so hard for her to draw because she'd look at it and get a strange, almost wistful feeling that April would push away as quickly as it came. He eyes it a few more moments and he has something like confusion on his face. He's probably not as good as she thought, as she was told, and this is all a waste of time. Natalie's dumb raven she had put across her back - and it was honestly beautifully done with such amazing texture to the feathers and the eyes were almost alive - was just a fluke.
"Did you draw this?" he asks her, handing back the folder.
"Yeah, so?"
"It's awesome," he says with another big smile, and he hops an inch or two off the ground in strange, totally un-Pawnee excitement. "Can I see the rest of your sleeve? Is it like a piece, all together? Or is it just bits? Is it a work in progress...?"
He trails off and April walks over to pull up the remainder of the white cloth over her shoulder. "I just like how it fits with all of the ritualistic stuff up here," she taps her tricep where a small group of hooded figures surround a small fire, and then down to her bicep where a long stream of fluid emanates from one of the figures' heads and transforms into a seven-eyed creature with large talons. "It's super dark all over here..."
"And you like the mixture," he nods, "like a juxtaposition or something. Maybe like hope or something on your arm."
"Yeah," she says with a small smile before wrapping that up in a grimace. "I mean, sure. I just drew it one day and thought it would look cool."
"Right, and maybe you could have it flow from that monster there," he touches her arm and April shivers, jerking back. "Sorry."
"Don't do that," she warns him and adjusts her shirt again. "What were you thinking?"
Andy walks over to a stack of tracing paper and sits down at the table. April looks over his shoulder as he sketches the outline of her work and makes a tiny clawed foot - just like the one her creature has - touching where the ring of clouds is. He shades that spot in and has a fading color scheme there, and the results - in her head - are amazing. The dark ritual that creates that monster, all leading the creature seemingly taking hold of the sea of clouds where its touch almost diseases them there. And, in the distance, two figures run off into the sunset. They're running off into better things, hand-in-hand, and April actually smiles.
Okay, so Andy's pretty good.
"Do you like it?" he taps the monster's foot with his pen. "I mean, it's all up to you of course. I was just thinking it's a really cool mixture."
"And the smaller tattoos would fit it so well," she nods, looking down at the ring of obscure numerals and lettering around her elbow that the eldritch monster's foot hung over. The gaping hole where the finishing piece would go would also be surrounded by a flurry of angels with dark wings and the tails of fire on her wrist. "You know, it could be a really cool piece when it's all put together."
"Yeah, like a big, kind of crazy Bosch painting," he holds his hands out wide and then points, from a much safer distance at her arm. "I think that would look awesome, actually."
Bosch. This dork at least could do a decent name drop, but she does like the wild imagery of everything hacked up and thrown together in that style. It definitely helps that her other arm is a tribute to The Garden of Earthly Delights, even going so far as to have the dark complected skin plastered with pale lights over burning homes running down her whole arm. She shows him that piece and he says the same thing - "Awesome!" - and asks her who did it.
"I know a guy in Youngstown who did this," she taps the beam of light over her bicep and sighs again. "He, um, he was really good."
"Why didn't you get him to do your other one?" Andy asks, looking and confused.
"Bad blood," she says, trying not to think about it and instead focusing on the inevitable finish to this piece, finally. "So, when do you think we could do this?"
"I've got some ideas and, um, do you mind if I look at this overnight and get back to you tomorrow?" Andy raises the folder and has that same, little grin that he has on seemingly constantly just from the little while she's known him.
"Sure, I guess," she shrugs. "But I really wanna get this done soon, so just tonight."
"I'm sure you'll love it. This is so awesome!" he looks down at her art like it's the greatest thing he's ever seen and it makes her give a twinge of a smile before thinking better of it. April instead crosses her arms and waits for him to tell her to leave. "You've got a really cool style, and I totally get it."
"It's just the sun and some clouds," she deflects but he's outlining everything on the tracing paper with his finger.
"Yeah, and that, like, super says a lot about everything, and it'll stand out against everything else," he looks up at her and nods, smiling. "Dude, this is awesome."
"I get it," she laughs, actually laughs for the first time in so long that it feels like dust gets kicked up out of her lungs when she does it. It's refreshing. "It's awesome. I'll be back same time tomorrow, okay?"
"Can't wait!" he puts the folder down and writes something down on it before turning around and looking at her with blank eyes. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, what's your name? Or maybe that's-"
"April," she says quickly, ignoring her mouth drying and the smile that wants to creep up. Now it's just weird. "My name's April, and I'll... um, I'll catch you tomorrow and we'll get this done."
"Sure," he nods and she walks backwards out of the tattoo parlor with a ghost of a smile on her face the whole time.
When she exits her face is strangely hot and her breathing is weird, and inconsistent. Taking a deep breath, April takes a direct path back to her apartment to avoid thinking about why she actually laughed for the first time since Youngstown. It couldn't be because of the kind of dopey looking, grungy guy who wanted to draw all over her could it? No, definitely not. Definitely not, she tells herself, but doesn't mind thinking with excitement that she'll get to see what he's done to her idea by this time tomorrow.
Excitement.
It's weird, and different, and she honestly kind of likes it.