A/N: I hope you kids like lemon-ade. I just squoze up a whole batch for this chapter. :D

"What...?"

Chloe continues grinning up at me from the stool next to the dental-style chair I'm sprawled out on, looking even more lovestruck than her usual, intensely adorable default.

"I - I just...think this is awesome, is all. It's amazing. YOU'RE amazing."

I give her a long look, and then lean in, murmuring with a smile on my lips, "You're actually getting turned on by this, aren't you?"

She blushes, smiling back at me just as bright, "Well, you have to admit babe. This isn't your usual style. I just...I think it's kinda...hot. That you're branching out, I guess?" She then laughs, "Sorry, Chloe bad talk do, no think so good."

I kiss her between her eyes and whisper, "I'm glad my continuing downward spiral into decadence and corruption excites you so."

Not missing a beat, she cocks her head, and murmurs throatily, "Welcome to the Chloe Side. We've got cupcakes."

We're in Nevada, now. Reno, I think. Or just outside it. About a week or so past our time in Denver. We didn't stay long in Utah, more just passed through, but oh, man. You should see the pictures I have of some of the deserts and especially the salt flats. They are just..totes mind blowing, even if I do say so myself.

(Although if I had to hear Chloe make one more "What's up, Playa?" geology joke while we were driving through them, I was going to strangle her. Affectionately, and lovingly, but yes, strangle still.)

We've stopped here though, because the other night, I finally told Chloe that I wanted a tattoo, and after she picked herself up from the floor, she told me that there was this place she wanted to go to - I guess it's something of a small legend in the "ink community" - and it was just on the way. She insisted on paying. I told her no way in hell but...well. I guess the good part of it is that Joyce actually won a little bit of money in the state lottery not long after we left Arcadia Bay. It wasn't a huge, life changing sum, but it was easily five figures, so she gave Chloe a little bit of it. So Chloe's insisting on make this an early birthday gift.

It's really hard to say no to her sometimes...

We ended up at "SaGa", a small, clean shop run by this Icelandic guy in his fifties, by the name of Roy. No, I don't think Roy is a terribly Icelandic sounding name either, but it didn't seem polite to point that out to him. He's been an absolute sweetheart though, explaining everything about the process to me, setting my nerves at ease, and working with me to get the design I came up with turned into actual ink. On my actual arm.

With actual needles...

Chloe is hovering her fingertips over the stencil, which Roy laid down a minute ago with the thermal paper stuff and the ointment over it. I guess he's off mixing up the inks and getting them ready. Before then, she and Roy were chatting away like crazy like...God. I guess this is what I sound like when I'm talking with someone about photography? She's a tattoo geek, and this is what it sounds like when two of them talk.

Oh Chloe. Sorry for talking your ear off about light and shadow and composition and intent.

But she really admired his work, and he was happy enough to answer the ja-zillion questions she had for him.

I'm sure anyone who knew me would be asking - as I'm still asking myself - what it was that brought me to this moment. It wasn't like I just woke up one day and said, "Yeah. That. Let's go with that, totally. The tattoo thing." But I did realize a few weeks ago that I wanted something permanent in my life. A fixed point. I mean, don't get me wrong, I never doubt for a moment Chloe and I are forever, but...there's something about having your skin marked up that says: "This is never going away. You can't erase and rewind this time.'

(And yes, I know. They can go pew-pew-laserbeams! at tattoos these days and blast them off or something , but still...)

I have a whole vision thing. I'm going to get a sleeve tattoo, like Chloe has. I mean, not EXACTLY like hers. And I'm going to get it on my left arm, so that when we hold hands and walk in public, both tattooed arms are on display together. But I don't have the time or money to get it all done in one shot; I'm just starting with a picture of a blue morpho butterfly.

Because of course I am. How could I not? The moment that began it all. The number of times I became the butterfly, flapped my wings, changed things. Took them back, changed them again. The memories, all the ones I have, of times and events that don't exist anymore, are slowly fading away, dying quietly in the dark.

Chloe can't remember the time she and I fired her father's gun in the junkyard. Or how I saved Kate from jumping - because Kate never went up to the roof. Or the night we broke into the Principal's office and swam in the pool. When she first dared me to kiss her...and I did.

Or when I literally took a bullet for her, and she watched me bleed out on the bathroom floor.

She can't remember, because from her perspective, it never happened. I took it all back. Wiped it all away, like a sandcastle at high tide.

But I'll have this tattoo. I'll have it and look at it, and it will remind me, if just a tiny bit. That all those things really happened. Even I'm the only one left who bore witness.

That it wasn't just a dream.

"Oookeh. How about you let me sit down here...Chloe, you can slide around to the other side, if you like?" Roy's back, and ready with the gun. Guy's six foot six, and built like a modern Viking, but there's a gentleness about him. Kind of like he's someone's crazy uncle or grandpa. I honestly don't know if I'd been able to make it this far without his reassurances. I think the fact he isn't giving me crap or treating me like a poser is the big help.

With a cock-eyed smile, he leans in and explains, "Right, so you just hang on for the first minute or two, ya?. 'Cause it's gonna hurt, but not so bad. You'll get used to it. Not like we're doing the back of your neck or on your sternum. Fokk! I'd tell you to go rethink it, girl, if you asked me for that, first time."

I close my eyes and grit my teeth, and murmur out, "This...this'll be easy. Got shot point blank once, so this'll hella tickle." I say this more to remind myself than anything else, but still he chuckles. I don't see any reason to dissuade him from the notion that I'm just telling a bad joke.

And yeah, the experience is exactly what was promised: totally like getting stuck with a little needle, at high speed, hundreds of times over. And over.

Well shit, I definitely won't forget this day.

He's good though. Deft. He takes his time, but he doesn't waste time, doesn't trace the lines unless he's sure of them. Artistry I can understand. Focus on that, try to be more impressed with his level of skill than with the amount of discomfort I'm currently experiencing.

A little while later, and it's finished. At least the outline is. Now comes time for coloring in the various shades of blue and white, along with the fine details. Roy claps me on the shoulder - the other one, thank God - smiles down. "Good! Good...didn't blubber, not like that fraternity boy who came in last week, oh shit, you'd think I was gelding him!" He chuckles loudly and rises up, partly to give me a little break, I guess.

Chloe chases after him as he heads over towards his desk, "Hey! Hey Roy...uh...so about what I was asking before..."

I lay back and tune out whatever it is the two of them are talking about. Close my eyes and relax. I kind of wish I took Chloe up on her suggestion to get baked first before we came here, but I really needed to be clear-headed for this. I didn't want anything to muddle up my memory of this day. I want to remember the scent in the air, sterile and antiseptic. The feel of the cheap vinyl underneath me, the weird-as-fuck Nordic death metal band playing in the background. Although I wish I could get the taste of lunch out of my mouth, man...never have Chinese food in Nevada, that's for damn sure. At least outside of Las Vegas, I suppose?

I crack open an eye and peek over; Roy and Chloe are still holding some sort of animated discussion. I can't make out what they're saying, but...oh God. I hope she isn't pestering the hell out of the poor guy too badly. I don't want him peeved at us, when he has to go back to filling in my tat.

That I now take the time to look down at.

Oh...oh wow. I did it.

I actually did it!

It's just an outline, but it's gorgeous, and it's mine. It's on me, forever. And I find that comforting as hell, like an anchor. Something that will keep me solidly planted in this timeline...because honestly? Things are going fantastic. There are still days where I wake up worried I'm going to lose it all. That Il be back almost a year ago, in Arcadia Bay. Another Max. Another life.

But maybe not anymore.

Roy finally returns, giving an amused chuckle, and says, "Right. So just lie back. Feel free to close your eyes and rest, if you want."

Chloe's gives a short, clipped laugh for some reason. I don't think anything about it. I just bite down on my bottom lip and bear down for the next minute again, taking Roy's advice. Only now it takes a bit longer to 'get used' to it, what with the color needing to be spread out, the same patch of skin getting poked repeatedly. I once read something about how needles poking the skin can make nerves more sensitive for a while, and I totally believe it. But after a while, it's not so much painful as...intense sensation. Stimulating. I'm not saying I'm exactly getting off on pain, like that I'm a masochist or anything, but I can suddenly appreciate HOW pain can feel...well...if not good, then definitely interesting. Arousing in it's own way.

That's probably why I don't immediately notice that the fingers wrapped around my arm, right at the elbow, are long. Slender...not rough and muscled and..

What that?!

Fortunately, Chloe anticipates what's coming, turning off the tattoo gun and holding it away from my skin as she seems me jerk in my chair, my eyes flying open. Then she gives me the biggest shit-eating grin, and says, "Relax babe. I'm almost halfway done with the main fill."

I look back at her, and then at Roy, who is, to his credit at least, sitting right next to her, watching like a hawk, like he's ready to jump in, just in case.

"Chloe? What? Huh?!" I look quizzically at them both.

"Ohhh...I...kind of...wanted to give you a surprise. I'd been reading up on this, and I've seen it done a billion times. Had it done to me a lot so...I kinda convinced Roy to give me a shot. Told him I'd give him a tip equal to the fee if he let me!"

I give Roy my best 'Are you absolutely shitting me?' look. This CAN'T be legal. I mean, I love Chloe, and I know she'd never hurt me, but sometimes she gets a little too impulsive..and...and...

He barks out a gravelly guffaw, "AND had you sign a waiver, too! Don't go thinking that I let just anyone do this though." He glances over to me, pats my leg reassuringly, "But your girlfriend here, she maybe actually knows her stuff, ya? I wasn't older than her, the first time someone let me try it out like this, so I figure, hey, what the hell? Kids are the future, or whatever the hell that damn song says."

He pauses to admire Chloe's work so far, nodding in approval. "Hmmm. Not bad. Especially for a first time. You an illustrator? Got a steady hand for it. Well, you finish up with the blue parts, then I'll take over for the fine detail, ya?"

Chloe nods once, "That was the deal." She then looks up to me, and...

...she could just light up the room with her smile right now. I've never seen her so happy. She then gets back to work without another word, slowly giving color and life to my tattoo.

I just sit there, absolutely transfixed while I watch, the pigment blooming out across my skin, as she takes her time, so terribly careful. She might be impulsive and headstrong and crazy a lot of the time, but she's doing everything she can to make sure she isn't hurting me, or messing this up. Absolutely focused, completely consumed with her work.

It's another minute or so, before it finally hits me, before I whisper out to her.

"You're marking me."

"I am..." she agrees, not taking her eyes off what she's doing.

"Chloe...this...this is really hot."

And it is. There is something so intensely, erotically intimate about it all. She's claiming me. Like she's signing her name across my heart. She's taking this piece that is supposed to be such a close, almost secret symbol of this unbelievable time of my life, the thing that brought us together in the end, and adding her own part to it.

I whimper the whole rest of the time she's coloring it in - not in a bad way, not at all. But I AM surprised I manage to hold out until she's finally done, before I reach out, tangle my fingers in her hair, and pull her close, mouth latching onto her own. I kiss her for a good ten seconds, leaving her flushed and breathless in my wake.

"Thank you." I mouth out to her, as she rises up in a daze. Roy doesn't even blink, just takes the gun from her, takes her place, and goes to make sure that the color layers blend evenly, working on the white dots around the edges of the wings. I barely even notice, too busy holding Chloe's hand and grinning goofily at her.

"Best early birthday present ever." I giggle softly to her.

She gives me a knowing look and says, rubbing the back of her neck. "Think that's great? Just wait until September."

Damnit. Now I'm going to be dying of curiosity for at least the next month and a half.

A few days later, Chloe is waking me up in bed with gentle little kisses on my arm.

"Nuuuu..." she groan sleepily into my pillow. "No get germies in mah wooound." Which is, you know, exactly what a tattoo is for the first few days. But it's healing nicely, and we've been really good about aftercare.

"Can't help it! I gotta revel in my work. And my sexy canvas." She does make sure the next flurry of kisses make it to my lips and face.

We cuddle up close and I glance over at it. "It does look incredible, does it?"

"Oh yeah. And it'll keep looking incredible, at least until it starts to peel. Don't freak when that happens, okay? It's totally normal. Just think of it like shedding..."

"That's really fitting, you know? Like coming out of a cocoon. Emerging from a chrysalis."

"Geeze, laying it on heavy with the butterfly symbolism, aren't you?"

"Shut uuuup. I love it. I love that you helped make it. And I love you." We kiss again, and then I mutter against her lips. "I just wish I could see the whole thing. Have it done. Like now."

"I...think I know how to make that happen. I mean, not permanently, but enough so that you'd get a nice idea about the end result."

"Uhhh...no markers, right?"

She laughs and crawls out of bed. "Shit, no. Trust me. You trusted me on the tattoo..."

"I didn't KNOW you were going to do that!"

"Right. That's because forgiveness is ALWAYS easier to get than permission. But you didn't stop me."

"Mmmmm...no I. Did. Not."

I rise up and pad along after her, into the cramped living quarters-slash-kitchen in the RV. Just enough time to throw a cereal bar in my face, and she brings out a fancy looking henna kit that I didn't even know she had. I wonder where the hell she was hiding it, it's not like there's a lot of space to put things, here on the Princess Sparklefists Express.

I lay my left arm out on the table, and over the next hour or two, she traces out the rest of the design: vines growing out, twisting over my arm and ending at my wrist. Little divergent paths, on which sit a multitude of butterflies, becoming smaller and smaller as they drift away from the main one, representing the twisted, branching paths I had to navigate when I was still Max Caulfield, Mistress of Space And/Or Time. The idea is to eventually make the butterflies different colors of the rainbow.

It's spellbinding, watching her work. Again, that same sort of intimacy, the feeling of being under her complete control. The same, yet different. A promise of something spectacular, but still amazing in and of itself. She's...she's so good at this. The drawing, I mean. Stupid me, I get so wrapped up in my own art, I forget Chloe's got her own gift for illustration. That's why she was at Blackwell.

"So babe? What do you think?". She's trying to play it all casual, but I can see in her eyes, she's so desperate for me to be happy with it.

I rise up to my feet, staring at it. Stretching out my arm and greedily absorbing each detail with my eyes. I feel...different. Powerful. More confident. Like I've actually fully taken possession of my own body for the first time in my life. Look at me, world. Look at Max Caulfield. Look at what my super-awesome way-cooler-than-yours girlfriend did!

"I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Chloe.". My voice is barely above a reverent whisper. A swallow and turn to her, smiling to the point where my face starts to ache.

She stands up, joining me, leaning in and nuzzling at my ear, shoulder and neck. "You're my Goddess, Max. My angel, my Florence Nightingale. I just...wanted something that would show it. 'Cause you know, I suck with words a lot of the time."

"Yeah, you do." I hiss out, playfully, gripping the back of her head, and pulling her gently back, nibbling at her neck, ear and mouth.

Another few moments, and we're tightly embracing, her breasts slowly rubbing up against my own, nails scratching and tracing patterns over the skin of my back as our kisses became more frenetic, ferocious. I've kissed my girl a hundred thousand times by now, and I never, ever get tired of it. I think that's how I know this is the real deal. That this is what was meant to be. People would tell us, "Oh, you're both so young, you can't say forever." but yeah.

I can. I really can.

In short order, she's gotten my bra off, hands cupping and caressing my chest. Tweaking and twisting my nipples, until they're almost painfully hard, and I'm begging her not to stop. Still cupping my breasts, she manages to guide my backwards towards the bed, until I slowly sprawl out backwards onto it, smiling sleepily in anticipation of what's to come.

Chloe kneels down at the foot of the bed, deftly snagging the sides of my panties, and slipping them down and then off. Nuzzling at my leg, up towards my inner thighs, kissing the back of my knee. I stretch out, luxuriating in the feel of her lips, her hair brushing across my skin, making me bite my knuckle from occasional pleasure overload.

"Chloe! Oh God...Chloe...I want...I want YOU to finish up the tattoo sleeve. Don't...care how you do it. Even if we have to come back, and go to Roy's in a few months, make him let you use his stuff. Then...then maybe you can do something...something on my back...!"

I'm panting hard now, envisioning Chloe making her mark over every inch of my skin, as her tongue tip traces lazy circles over my public mound. She knows how to read me, when I'm in the mood to be teased and draw foreplay out. And when I need her NOW. This is definitely a NOW moment, her mouth making it's way between my legs, lips encircling the stiff bud of my clit.

And for the record? Chloe is just...well, I'll never know if I'm gay or maybe just bi, but she has absolutely ruined me for anyone else in bed. She admitted, before we got too far into our relationship, that she and Rachel Amber had been intimate. Her first.

Too bad I never got a chance to thank her, because OH DAMN did she teach my Chloe well.

My legs snake over her shoulders, trapping her head between my thighs, my fingers reaching down to possessively tangle through her hair. I hadn't realized until this moment how much watching her work was winding me up, exciting me. I don't last long under her hungry assault, arching up against her, crying out loudly, writhing and clawing at her shoulders as I come.

Thank God this RV park we're in right now is pretty secluded; I can be kind of a screamer, especially at times like this.

I takes me a good few minutes to recover, as Chloe disengages herself, crawling her way slowly upwards, kissing away the tears of joy that have wrung themselves from my eyes. Kisses my mouth, and I taste myself on her lips. That's all it takes to rev me up for seconds, roll her down onto the bed, fully intent on paying her back. With interest.

Later, much later, we're tangled up in the sheets and each other. I'm staring out at the henna drawings on my arm, surprised that it's barely smudged, after all that exertion.

"Wow. Good stuff." I whisper out. Then I turn to Chloe. "Sweetie? I think maybe you found your calling."

She reaches over towards the bedside table, grabbing her vaporizer and taking a slow, languid inhale, before offering it to me.

"What, having mind blowing sex with you? Yeah, I'm awesome. Really I'm awesome!" She puffs out a few white, fluffy clouds as she speaks, and smiles wickedly. "But I don't think that puts food on the table unless we suddenly start working for Suicide Girls."

I take my own, much smaller draw, and playfully blow it out in Chloe's face. "Dummy. I mean...this." I point to the design on my arm. "Serious, Chloe. You need to do body art. Tattooing. I mean, sheesh. You looked so happy, when you were inking me up."

Chloe blinks, uncertain, "Well..yeeeeah. Of course I was. I was inking you up..."

I shake my head, taking one last sip off the vape before handing it back. "Mmm-nnn. It was more than just that. It was like watching you in your element. Doing what you were always meant to do. Like...like when..."

She beats me to the punch, "Like when you're capturing the perfect shot with your camera? Hmmm." She narrows her eyes, pondering thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe...maybe you're on to something?" She smacks her lips and sits up in our bed, musing. "Tattoos. Making designs. Like...my own stuff. Yeah...yeah. And people would pay me to put it on them, because it's amazeballs. I could be Chloe the Artiste! The gal who paints on peoples bodies." She nodded, smile growing ever wider on her lips. "'Cause you heard Roy, I mean, I know you don't know much about the guy, but believe me when I say that on the West Coast at least, he's like Van Gogh in the tattoo scene. So damn cool. And he even gave me his personal email address!"

"Sooo...I think he's trying to tell you something!" I lean in, kissing her cheek firmly.

She nods with a languid slowness, "Yeah. That...that would be really nice. To have a...thing. That I do with my life. That's more than just paying the bills, but it could still HELP pay the bills. I mean, fuck, why not? I'm young. I should give it a shot! What's the worse that could happen, other than crippling embarrassment, failure, and nagging self-doubt? But shit, I think I'll definitely regret it if I don't at least try."

It really makes me happy to hear Chloe talking about a direction in her life. As much as the aimless, sexy rogue routine works for me, this is about ten thousand times better, as far as I'm concerned. Angry, rebel-without-a-cause-Chloe is as much a trapping of the past as shy, mousy, overly-eager to please Maxine Caulfield.

She rises up, walking over and grabbing a sketch pad and her tin of cray-pas from one of the cabinets. Then flops down in the tiny chair across from the bed and smiles from me.

"So. Miss-My-Muse. You wanna be my first model? Maybe you strike a sexy pose for La Artiste?"

Laughing, I splay myself over the bed dramatically. "Right. So I'm Rose to your Jack now?"

She immediately gets to work, falling into that deep concentration I saw her exhibit when she was inking me up.

"Mmmm. That sounds good. Except without the sinking and death and overwrought tragedy. Also, if you feel the urge start producing priceless diamond necklaces? Just go with it."

So I just lay out, and for the next hour or two, Chloe sketches me, in various poses. It's probably the best way to spend the day with her, as far as I'm concerned. And I know, deep in my heart of hearts it won't always be like this, free, easy and casual. I'll start school, and if Chloe is serious about this new career choice of hers, she'll probably have to work hard and pay her dues.

I realize none of this is permanent. Life itself isn't permanent, but as I look down at the blue butterfly on my arm, I know it's going to be impossible to forget how wonderful these days together have been.

A/N: So people who know me know I'm pretty nervous as hell with doing lemons and tend to rush a bit when I write those kind of scenes. I think it's hard to write something like that, knowing it will be read by god knows how many strangers. Still, this is fluffy romance, and this is going to come up again, so hopefully I get more comfortable doing it as time goes on. Have a good rest of the week!