It was childish. It was worse than that, she just wasn't sure what word would suffice in describing how immature it really was. When her fingers ghosted over the raised ink, she shuddered in a tinge of fear. A fear of two things, if she was being honest with herself. Of Chase seeing it, and of House finding out about it.
When you go to a tattoo parlor, they make you sign a consent confirming that you're not under the influence of drugs or alcohol, and that you are in a proper state of mind to be making the decision to be getting a tattoo. The muscles in her hand constricted in fear as she signed the paper, hoping that the artist behind the desk wouldn't notice the dark circles under her eyes, nor the smell of wine on her breath. She snorted lightly to herself as she handed the papers over, and the man asked what was amusing to her.
"Nothing." She had replied softly, knowing that he didn't want to hear her slightly disturbing thought; that she had put as much thought into signing the tattoo release as she had in signing her marriage license to Robert, which wasn't a whole lot.
She had loved him, honestly she had. It just wasn't in any way that mattered enough to make the marriage work. It had been six months since they stood in front of their friends and families, proclaiming their love for one another, and they were already in the middle of a divorce. It had been mutual and mostly friendly, until recently, that is. They still lived together, as they weren't yet sure who was going to be taking the apartment. Chase wasn't handling the divorce as well as Allison, and had taken to heavy drinking every night after work. Allison worked long hours in the ER and always arrived home well after he had drunk himself into a frenzy of name calling and shouting. After hearing one too many times that the marriage might be going better if she went to the gym every now and then, she snapped.
The stinging of the tattoo gun had hurt in the beginning, but the pain subdued along with her original jitters. The tattoo was so miniscule that it took nearly no time at all, but near the end of the design, she noticed that she was restraining herself from leaning into the touch of the needle. It had started to feel surprisingly good, almost seductively dark.
Her brain was sharply reminding her over and over that her ears were hurting, that they wanted to get out of their environment, but Allison ignored the memo, instead nodding her head to the rock music that was blaring in the shop.
"I wonder if my job has a policy against visible tattoos." She wondered out loud, though she couldn't bring herself to sound too concerned about it. The artist that was currently working on her design raised a single eyebrow and shook his head in amusement with a small chuckle.
"Where ya work?" He asked curiously, taking notice of the pink scrubs that she hadn't bothered to change out of.
"Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital." She droned, leaving out any emotion in the sentence. He nodded his understanding, recognizing from her tone that she didn't care to go into anymore details.
"All done, what do you think? I mean, it'll look a lot better when it's not raised up and red, but it gives you a good idea…"
She stared down at it, a small smile curving at her lips. She didn't tell the artist, but she secretly liked the raised ink and the reddish tint around it. It seemed harsher than a fully healed tattoo, and that worked well with the gesture she was making.
Walking home, fear still hadn't set in, though she vaguely realized that she should be at least nervous. She felt dethatched from the situation, as if it wasn't even real, or that it hadn't meant anything. That was pure bull, and somewhere deep down, she knew it. It didn't seem worth worrying about it, now that the act was over with.
When she got home, he was sitting in the same usual spot, drinking the same usual scotch, wearing the same usual expression. No wait…He normally looked uninterested, not angry and accusing…
"Where have you been, Allison?" He asked through gritted teeth. She blankly blinked back at him, wearing nothing but indifference in her expression.
"A tattoo parlor." She answered simply, walking into the kitchen and shrugging off the leather jacket that clashed horribly with her soft pink scrubs. He scoffed twice as if he wasn't sure whether or not he believed her. He stood from the couch and followed her into the kitchen, watching as she poured herself a glass of wine.
"Let me see it." Chase said with a grimace, attempting to sound calm but failing. Allison on the other hand, was feeling perfectly fine, and took a steady sip of her wine before answering him.
"I didn't say I got a tattoo, Robert, I said that I had been at a tattoo parlor." She explained calmly, knowing that she was beating around the bush. He paused for a few seconds, unable to process what she was saying through his drunken haze.
"Why were you at a tattoo parlor, then?" He snapped once he realized what she had said. Any patience that he had was wearing thin.
"Getting a tattoo."
She had to take another long gulp of her drink to hide the smile on her face at his glare. Then she noticed how his eyes fixated on her wine glass, questioningly peering at where her wedding ring used to sit.
They hadn't gone public with their separation, so they still wore their jewelry to work. At least they had, but Allison had taken off her ring and pocketed it once arriving at the parlor.
"What is that?" He shouted, though he already knew.
"It's a tattoo, Robert. Of a walking cane." She replied slowly, letting the words sink in as she set her wine glass on the counter so that she could peer at the cane with flames that now rested on her ring finger. He threw his glass of scotch against the wall, missing her head by about a foot. She knew he wasn't trying to aim for her, only scare her.
"Get. Out."
She picked up her glass of wine and downed its remains before dropping the glass at her feet. She flipped a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes, then stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door on the way out. She smiled at the satisfying sound of screaming on the other side of the wall.
A/N: I'm totally prepared to write a second chapter where House returns from Mayfield ('cause that's the time period for this) and sees the tattoo if you guys want it. :3 Let me know? And let me know if you want it to get smutty? I am your writing slave, I will do whatever you guys want. ;D
