There where a host of things John hated with a passion, and showering in a public facility ranked near the top. He could list dozens of reasons, but the things that came instantly to mind were that he was a private person, and he didn't want to catch some awful disease, which explained his shower shoes that he realized made him look like a dweeb. Another thing was that it brought back painful memories from his teen years. Even more so then than now, John was painfully thin, as he'd once told Fin; one of his nicknames was pencil. In the showers, he would be taunted, told to hold on to something so he didn't go down the drain. The only one taunted more than John was the fat kid.
But he didn't feel like he had much choice today, they'd been working none stop on a case for days and he'd been in the same clothes for something like 52 hours. He could make do on very little sleep, but at some point he had to shower, shave and at least put on clean underwear or he'd stop feeling like a human being. So he'd finally given in and come down to the precinct's locker room to sluice off the sweat and body soil of the last 2 days.
He'd soaped up his body well and even decided to wash his hair, though he didn't think the soap was exactly what his hair stylist would recommend. Just as he was rinsing the soap out of his hair, and thus couldn't see too well, he heard someone else enter the shower area.
"Well, I see I'm not the only one with tattoos," Elliot said.
John reflexively touched the tattoo on his chest. 'Damn,' he thought, 'another reason I hate to shower in public, someone seeing this stupid tattoo.'
"Guess you probably never worked narcotics, huh?" Elliot said in an amused voice, as he began his shower.
"No," John answered, as he turned off the shower and beat a hasty retreat.
Elliot took a quick shower, but by the time he was done, John was already dressed and gone. He caught up with him upstairs at his desk, pouring over paper work for the case they were all working.
"You know John that's a really nice tattoo you've got, too bad it's not someplace where you can show it off a little more," Elliot said.
"Excuse me," John said, incredulously. "Are you forgetting the subject matter of said tattoo?"
"Yeah, well it would be a conversation starter that's for sure, especially for a cop," Elliot replied.
"You've got a tattoo, John? What's it of and where is it? Can I see it?" Olivia asked rather enthused.
John sighed. Olivia was like a kid sister to him, and he found it hard to deny her anything, but he didn't want to set a precedent by showing her his tattoo, because then everyone else would expect him to show it to him or her.
"Yes, I have a tattoo, it's of a marijuana leaf and no you may not see it, at least not right now, because I don't feel like taking my clothes off at this time and in this particular place," he waited a beat and then added mischievously, "maybe later in a more private setting."
"A marijuana leaf," she said in a questioning tone.
"I was a rebellious teenager and I wanted to tick my mom off. Boy, did I." John said with a shrug and a smile of remembrance.
"When you show your tattoo to Olivia, will you show it to me too?" Casey Novak, whom no one had noticed enter the squad room, asked impishly. Before John could answer she added, "I promise if you show me yours, I'll show you mine,"
"You better take her up on that old man, I don't think you're gonna get a better proposition than that," Fin said in a tone of voice that threatened to break out into a laugh.
"I hate to break up this appreciation of Munch's body art, but I assume Ms. Novak came here for a reason?" Cragen asked rhetorically.
"I did but the prospect of seeing John's tattoo has made me forget what it was. By the way, where exactly is said tattoo located?" Casey asked, hoping someone would answer.
"No," John said, holding up a finger to Elliot. "Not knowing will heighten the anticipation of the moment for her," he added.
"Oh please, "Olivia said rolling her eyes. But Casey didn't say anything she just smiled.