When she got her art degree, this isn't really how she imagined putting it to good use. But, she technically is doing art (even if it can't really be shown in a gallery), the pay is good, and it is kind of fun. Assuming the person she's working on has any sort of a pain tolerance. Maka doesn't like the screamers.

So when he walks in, swinging his head from left to right trying to look at everything and looking a little green, she's worried that he's gonna end up crying and maybe even passing out.

Which sucks.

"Can I help you?" she asks from over the counter her doodles on stolen printer paper prominently displayed. It's a little funny how he eyes her art and then notices that she's there. "Yeah, hi. You need something?"

"A tattoo."

Oh boy, "ding ding, we have a winner. You at least wandered into the right shop." Her snark is clearly not appreciated.

"Look, all my friends are at a bar, I fuckin' got bounced even though my ID is fuckin' valid, so I'm getting a fuckin' tattoo and it needs to be wicked cool."

Maka raises an eyebrow, "Fahckin'?"

"…It's an East Coast thing."

"So's wicked."

"You gonna make fun of me all night or can I just get a god damn tattoo?"

She grins.

They talk about design for all of ten minutes. He wants something cool; nothing to do with stars (his best friend's name is Black Star, yeah, he doesn't want any stars ever), no music things (he didn't elaborate on that), and he doesn't want anything too mainstream (not cool enough).

The tattoo is also going on his ass. Which appears to be a pretty good ass, but it is amazing how much a pair of jeans can do. And really, that isn't even nearly the raunchiest place Maka has inked someone.

So many girls. So many regrets.

Guys too actually.

Maka's been asking him pretty basic questions, and getting really basic answers. His name is Soul, he is actually 21 (the fucking bouncer is just an idiot who wouldn't accept his state license! The fuck even!?), he's a hipster who won't admit he's a hipster, and he is very pleased with himself when he stops and points at the dragon in her design book.

"That. I want a dragon on my ass."

"…You sure?"

"Fuck yes.

It's just a simple sort of dragon motif, only about two inches tall and with a small wing. Soul had decided early on that her preferred navy-blue black ink was acceptable, this wasn't about style or anything, this was revenge.

So she sighs, goes over the rules, the contract, the payment, what she will not tolerate while she's inking him, proper care of the tattoo, all the things she has to say before she can even put on her rubber gloves. Soul's still all for it though, happily signs his name away and keeps grinning. Cause he's getting a dragon on his ass! Fuck yeah!

Boys. Maka has given up trying to understand them years ago.

Once she's got her area prepped, her gloves on, the gun ready and the screen pulled for privacy, she asks him to lie down. "You can keep your pants on, but I need the area I'm going to be working on clear." Soul nods, finally a little more reserved about the fact that he now has to show her his ass instead of just talk about it.

But, he manages to do it and fuck. It wasn't just the jeans. The man has a stupidly perfect ass. Like the Greeks may or may not have used him as a reference. How in the hell?

Despite the red in her cheeks (ack!), Maka works to maintain her professionalism. "Just going to do a rough sketch, then I'll start, alright?"

"Sure thing." Soul replies with his head on his arms. He is kind of ridiculously attractive the more she looks at him.

She does the sketch, which gives her enough time to detach from how perfect his butt is and focus on her work. Because if she screws this up? That would suck. A lot.

The sketch comes out perfectly and she fires up the gun, "going to let you feel it, okay? Let you gauge it, but remember it starts to hurt more the longer it takes," Maka warns. The gun buzzes and Soul grunts.

"It's fine. Plus it's pretty small. Just go for it." Which she appreciates. Right until he starts to ask about her. "You have any tattoos? You're like, the least tattooed person I have ever seen who works in a tattoo shop."

It takes her a moment to answer, still pretty intent on the outline of the little dragon. "Ah, there. Yeah I do actually. It's how I even knew about this place and got a job here."

"And it is?"

"None of your business," Maka answers smartly as she finishes the tip of the tail. "Tattoos should be personal, and mean something. They're art that you wear for the rest of your life." Admittedly, that's a bit more than she meant to say, especially to the guy getting a revenge/rebellion tattoo on his ass.

Soul is quiet after that.

The tattoo is done after a while and Maka is proud of it. It's a simple little thing, but it looks good, crisp and sharp, it'll be even better once the skin heals. "There. You're good."

He gets up from the table, holding his pants and boxers up with one hand and shuffles to the mirror so he can look over his shoulder to admire her work. "Oh fuck yes. Thanks. That is a fuckin' dragon."

"You're welcome," Maka says, and means it. They settle the rest of their business, he pays and leaves.

She rubs at her shoulder where her tattoo is covered by her black tshirt wondering what he would have said if she showed him hers.

Soul walks back through the door a week later. "Thought a lot about what you said, about a tattoo meaning something." He grins at her and Maka realizes she hasn't forgotten a single detail about him. "I'd like another one."

"Yeah?" she leans forward, rumbling some more doodles on even more stolen printer paper.

"Yeah."

"I'll make it wicked fahkin' cool," she teases.

"Good. You'd better."

They're lying in bed together five months later, and Maka is tracing the red demon across his back and the lines of music that wrap around his shoulders and down onto his biceps. "Still the best work I've ever done."

He boyfriend groans and blinks at her from where his head is cushioned on his arms. "Sometimes I think you're just dating me for my tattoos. And then other times I think you're dating me for my butt."

"It is a very very nice butt."

"My point exactly."

Maka leans down and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "I'm thinking about working on my sleeve again."

"Oh yeah?" She has his attention now.

"Yeah. I think one of your blue soul's would look nice under the poppies." Maka's been able to see it in her mind for a while, ever since she saw his own sketch book. She hasn't added to her sleeve since the little lilacs dotted around the enormous scarlet poppy blooming on her shoulder.

Soul reaches out to trace the design on her arm, "that would look good. If you get that, I have something else you could add too." He'd composed the song during the third session while she shaded his back.

"Well, get the markers and show me!" The fact that they kept skin safe markers next to their bed amused her sometimes. Especially because drawing on each other usually devolved into very good sex pretty quickly.

Which it did.

Maka got the little blue soul and her own staff lines and music notes wrapped around her arm within the week by one of the other artists at the shop. It looked right in the same way that Soul had just felt right in her life.