Dean ground his teeth together. He took three paces forward, swiveled and took three paces back. Castiel was being a champ but Dean knew the needles on the tattoo machine were sure to be inflicting continuous pain.
Slugger had popped his head back in after the song ended and asked Dean to swap out Castiel's barely drunk beer for a bottle of chilled water and two ibuprofen. He muttered something about not wanting a bleeder. Two minutes later he was calling Dean in to trace his tattoo and pointing Castiel to the bathroom before they began.
The studio had been remodeled since Dean was there last. The walls were stark white with black framed drawings of tattoo designs, photographs of arm sleeves and a few certificates and awards. The room was clinical and professional with a black tattooist's chair and stool, a newly plumbed sink, and a long metal table with all Slugger's supplies neatly lined up. At the side of the house a former window had been replaced by a narrow glass door with a screen.
Dean focused on the red '81' tattoo on Slugger's arm while he did the trace. It made him realize that there were no badges on the biker's plain black vest.
"Slugger, what happened to your patches?"
"Had to hand them back, Dean. When I left the club. Still got the permanent ones on my skin." Slugger said matter-of-fact.
"Huh," Dean acknowledged. "You're still biking though, yeah?"
"Hell yeah. I have a few good guys that I run with." Slugger lifted the paper from Dean's skin, "Done. Let's get the novice in."
Castiel had been nervous. Dean could tell from the set of his shoulders and the clasped hand on his combats waistband. He followed Slugger's instructions, getting on the chair, taking deep breaths and not moving. In fact Castiel went rigid to begin with.
The sound of buzzing needles masked Castiel's hissed breaths. Slugger leaned on Castiel's left shoulder with one black gloved hand while he worked with the other. The tattooist exhibited efficient concentration, all the fun slob side of Slugger had been put aside for business.
Dean sneaked a look at the developing design. The outline was done and Slugger was filling in the flames. Dean had put back on his tee. He tugged down the collar and checked. Castiel's tattoo would actually be at the same level and only a couple of inches further from the chest bone, closer to the armpit than Dean's own.
On his next pace back Dean noticed Castiel was gripping the arm of the chair with such force that the tendons on the back of his hand were pronounced. Although Cas had been walking around wounded and in pain, he couldn't be used to the small agonies of being human yet. Dean worried that doing this might be too much to inflict on an already hurting new human.
Slugger came out of his hunch and pursed his lips at both of them, "Dean Winchester you are wearing a trough in my floor. Pull out that wooden stool from under the table and take his hand before he breaks my chair!"
Dean looked in disbelief at the two foot high three legged stool. That was meant to take his weight? "Are you serious?"
"Old Lady Stool. Specially purchased for those who insist on staying to support their man." Slugger kept his eyes on Castiel's shoulder but Dean could hear the tease.
Dean was tempted to tell him to stuff it, and that he would stop the pacing, but he took his place on Castiel's right side, lifted his hand from the chair arm and wrapped both of his around it. Castiel favored him with a thankful gaze.
He stayed in position with his knees uncomfortably higher than his hips, until Slugger was done. He had to do his own private Harlem Shake to bring the blood back to his numb ass and dead leg. When he smirked and shrugged at the other men, Slugger and Castiel did synchronized eye rolls.
"What asshats?" Dean accused, "I was numb."
Castiel snorted and made to get up, but Slugger put a hand on the top of his shoulder above the tattoo. It looked great, all shiny and new, although the reddened skin made Dean's tattoo itchy with sense memory.
Slugger laid a piece of cling wrap over the design and taped it up. "Leave this on," He instructed in response to Castiel's surprise, "for a couple of hours until we retire. Then you can wash it carefully using your hand not a flannel, with lukewarm water and blot it dry. You will wash your grubby paws first, you hear me son?"
Castiel looked askance towards Dean. Whether he was checking if he should do as he was told, was offended at being called son, or confused by being told he had paws, Dean didn't know. He chose the safe route and said, "You listen to Slugger, Cas."
"That's right. Listen to the artist. Thank you." Slugger peeled off his gloves and began to tidy away his materials, "I'm giving you a pot of Tattoo Aftercare. Apply a thin thin layer, think oil on water. And tonight, sleep on your back."
Castiel nodded gravely.
"Finally. I didn't spend my out of hours time or Dean's dollars for you to mess up my work. No Scratching! No Swimming! No sun worshipping! And keep it fucking clean. You got it?"
Castiel nodded quickly. Dean admired Slugger's tirade. It took him back to times that Slugger had given a prospect or a wayward member a dressing down back at their roadhouse.
"In that case, let's resume beer. Dean have a look for some music will you, or do you want a movie? I'll follow on in once I'm done here."
Castiel got up. He left off the close fitting Henley but draped his shirt on loosely.
A movie might be better. They weren't tired having napped during the day, and Castiel needed a couple of hours before he endangered rubbing his new tattoo off bed sheets. Slugger had a reasonable collection of classic thrillers and war movies in his DVD collection. Dean was tossing up Vertigo and Born on the 4th of July, when he spotted The Great Escape.
Beer and Steve McQueen, with Castiel's leg pressed into his.
Slugger didn't care, so Dean slid his arm around Castiel's shoulder in a move he'd perfected as a teenager in movie theatres across the nation. He wasn't certain that Castiel was enjoying the film because each time Dean sneaked a look to the right Castiel was doing his sitting-there-watching-Dean thing. However at the end as the movie reached its crescendo Castiel's lips parted and he dug his fingers into Dean's thigh. Dean patted him on the arm and directed his attention to the screen in time for McQueen's famous cross county bike chase. Slugger sighed in approval at that part. Castiel turned his head into Dean's neck when everything went belly up. Dean was worried for a minute that he had chosen the wrong movie, but Cas scribbled a hasty few words asking to watch it again when they got home.
Dean tried not to be too obvious with his shit-splitting grin, but when he bit into his bottom lip and tracked along the penciled letters H O M E, he knew Castiel saw him and the resulting kiss was precious for all its brevity, as Slugger returned with a bowl of cheesy tortilla chips and another movie.
"Caddyshack? Really Slugger? We didn't watch it enough in O3?"
"I just love that sly gopher." Slugger said and ignored Dean's protest.
Castiel looked concerned at Dean's objections but in fact they did laugh and drink a couple more beers. When midnight rolled round Dean was experiencing a mellow buzz, from Budweiser and passive smoking Slugger's bedtime joint.
They were taken to the spare room. Formerly Mrs. McGee's room, now a plain undecorated guest bedroom. There was only one bed.
Slugger went to a cupboard in the corner from where he threw sheets, pillowcases and a blanket to the bare mattress.
"Listen up. I have a don't ask don't tell policy, just shove the sheets into the washer in the morning."
Dean met Slugger's knowing eye with a wink.
"Cheeky." Slugger wagged a finger at him.
"Your policy worked good with Harold and Matthew?" Dean kept up the cheek.
"What did I just say?" Slugger called as he went to the door.
"Don't tell." Dean rolled his eyes for Castiel's benefit.
The grizzled biker muttered under his breath as he closed the door.
Dean turned to Castiel who was looking slightly lost in the centre of the room, "Hey Cas, we got Slugger's blessing," He joshed with wiggling eyebrows. "We slept enough today, y'know, we could? Make out?"
