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“So, whatcha wanna get done?”
Rin stares at the blonde across the counter from him, his hands shoved into his pockets to stop him from playing with the consent form in front of him. The only reason why he walked into the shop that morning was so he didn’t have to listen to Akagi tease him about “staring wistfully across the way at the new artist” at Aran’s shop. It’s not Rin's fault that he hired a pretty new artist covered in swirls of color and fine lines that caught his eye the moment he showed up the other.
But damn Aran for dating Akagi and allowing the shorter man to tease him every single day he tried to put a bouquet together for an order. It’s not Rin's fault that every time he forms a bouquet he thinks of the blonde, matching together flowers that would look nice against his tan, against his hair, against that smile that he can see from across the street.
“Do you have any flash available?” Rin shrugs, looking at the sheets on the wall. “Anything with flowers would be cool.”
Atsumu beams at Rin as if he said the words that he had been waiting to hear all day. He watches as the blonde pulls out a notebook covered in stickers. “This is my flash book. Take and look and let me know what ya want. If there’s something ya might want, but you’re not sure about let me know. I can always change it so it’s new for you. There are some apple blossoms that I think would look good on ya in my style.”
Apple blossoms, Rin thinks, does he know what they mean?
Flower language isn’t something people take the time to study deeper than the more popular flowers. Roses, pansies, and lilies are the most popular ones due to their meanings and from pop culture. The different colors mean different things as well, depending on the situation. But apple blossoms are a new one. They mean preference, which was always funny to him since most people prefer cherry blossoms instead. They mean, I prefer you over anyone else , a bold declaration from one to another.
Confidence washes over Rin at the realization that even if Atsumu doesn’t know what they mean, he does. Any nervousness about getting a tattoo is gone now that the ball is in his court.
“I’ll go with that. I trust that it’ll look good in your style.” Rin pushes the book across the counter, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. Smugness blooms in Rin’s chest when he sees pink creep across his cheekbones. If nothing else, he knows that the smirk never fails to get a reaction out of whoever he’s flirting with. “I’ll fill out the form over there then call me over when you’re ready?”
Even as Rin turns away, he notices the blush deepen on Atsumu’s face. For someone who comes off so confident, skin full of ink and color and inviting conversation, he seems to have a shy side. From the corner of his eye, he watches the blonde stumble, watches him bump into a chair behind the counter and drop the flash book in his hands. Rin tries his best to hide his laughter behind his hand but fails as he watches Atsumu’s eyes go wide before ducking into his station.
Cute , Rin thinks as he fills out the paperwork. It’s like he’s never had a client flirt with him.
It’s a thought that Rin would like to go down, but Atsumu doesn’t allow him the time. Soon enough, he’s waving Rin behind the counter and pointing to the empty chair. It’s not lost on him that this station is much neater than Rins own, everything has its spot and is labeled so there is no confusion. The mark of a professional.
“Were you thinking of getting it anywhere in particular?” Atsumu’s eyes raked over his body, pausing in certain spots before moving again. “The forearm would probably be best.”
Rin shifts in the seat. “Sounds good to me.”
The rest of the preparations are easy, Atsumu shifting his arm around so he can land the stencil on perfectly, Rin approving it every time because it looks good to his eye. It’s a bit anti-cliamtic for his tastes considering all of the stories he has heard from friends who have gotten tattoos. Maybe it’s because Atsumu is in his element, the professional tattooer coming out and replacing the shy, blonde he was talking to earlier. He tries not to dwell on which version of the man he prefers as the tattoo machine finally meets skin.
From where Atsumu sits bent over his arm, Rin gets a one-in-a-million view of his shoulders and back. That stupid tank top he’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination and he has to stop himself from drooling all over the muscles as he watches them move. They’re mesmerizing, somehow rippling like water whenever they move. Rin swallows the lump in his throat multiple times before managing to rip his eyes away. The huff of laughter that leaves Atsumu between bits of conversation makes him think that he’s been caught.
“Ya know, I didn’t think anyone would ever pick that design.” Atsumu smiles up at Rin as he presses down on the Saniderm, hands gentle but firm. “No one ever knows what they mean.”
Rin blinks. “You know what they mean?”
Atsumu’s grin only spreads wider, a touch wilder at the corners now that his canines poke out. The suspicion that the blonde got one over on Rin sneaks up on him, heat crawling up the back of his neck, to the tips of his ears.
“Of course I do. Why do ya think I told ya about them?” Atsumu spins around in his
“How else was I supposed to flirt with the cute florist across the way?”
Laughter bubbles out of both of them, filling the empty tattoo shop. Leave it to Rin to let the person running through his mind these days to make the first move without him even realizing. This revelation only makes him like Atsumu even more.
“Alright,” Rin starts as he pulls out his phone, “what’s your number?”