permanent ink
note: this is set the day after this drabble i did, but also set in that quick little sad montage in s2e1 when jj gives himself a stick and poke. this is probably gonna be reworked once i actually get to season 2 just for any context issues i run into later on, but the bulk of this is canon for them, my tiny lil babies. none of this is really season 2 spoilers tbfh, but also just know this is set in s2e1. also v unedited.
pairing: leah thompson x jj maybank
cruel summer, season two
When Leah woke up, it was to the sounds of chickens clucking somewhere in the distance and to the dull throbbing of her side against an uncomfortable surface. Even before she could adjust to being awake, even before her eyes could flutter open to assess her surroundings, there was no doubt in her mind that she was at the Chateau, on John’s uncomfortable ass pullout couch.
And then there was that pang in her chest at the thought of even just his name. None of this was right. None of it made sense. It seemed as if everyone around her had just accepted the fact that the Phantom had gone down and wrecked, that John B and Sarah had been lost to the sea. That they weren’t just gone for a bit of time, but forever.
And yet something in her just wouldn’t let the information click, wouldn’t let the all too apparent truth win the battle with the denial warring through her mind. Grief was something that Leah was slowly realizing she wasn’t capable of stomaching, her brain reverting back to the denial stage like a broken record.
It didn’t make sense. The truth was too much to handle, too much to rationalize. To Leah, it didn’t make sense that the same fate that had befell the father had occurred again for the son, like some sick and twisted tragedy. These were the things that existed only the the thoughts that she shoved down and down, deep where she hoped they would never resurface.
They always did.
She let a groan escape her, an annoyed and frustrated little noise, as she rolled onto her back, eyes still squeezed shut as she considered praying to a god she didn’t believe in to let sleep take her. If not for refuge from all thoughts of John Booker Routledge for another moment, but to get away from the sounds of those fucking chickens.
“Sleeping Beauty finally awakes,” someone said from beside her, a snarky yet somewhat joking tone laced into the words.
Her eyes snapped open as she flailed a bit against the couch, heart jolting in her chest. She managed to sit up a bit before her eyes landed on the source of the voice. A somewhat amused JJ was sitting across the room, legs crossed and his foot in his lap, a pencil dangling precariously from his fingers.
Memories of the night before slowly came crawling through her mind, sitting on the dock, silent tears streaming down her face under JJ’s arm. They’d sat there until at least two am, mostly in silence while passing a beer between them. She wasn’t sure what had happened after they came back in the house, laying back on John B’s couch the last thing she could remember before she must have fell asleep.
“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Leah breathed out, hand running over her face, her heart galloping in her chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
JJ snorted. “Geez, good morning to you too, sunshine.”
“Fuck off,” she groaned, letting herself flop back onto the couch. She could hear him laughing as she pulled the pillow out from under her head to shove it over her face — it was way too fucking early to be dealing with this.
Look, she wasn’t saying that being around her best friend was awkward, because it wasn’t. At least, she was doing her best to make sure it wasn’t. But there was always that little nudge at the back of her mind, always trying to get her to work through whatever the fuck she was feeling, because it sure as hell wasn’t normal friendship shit.
She spent an inordinate amount of time trying to convince herself that nothing had changed, another round of denial in her life, but really, what was she going to do? Have feelings for JJ? Her best friend? And do what with that, exactly? Dig herself into a friendship ruining hole? Tell him? Hope he’d, in some fucking weird twist of fate, feel the same? The same JJ who’d never had an actual relationship and flirted with basically anyone, including her, even though with her it was always jokey?
Yeah, fuck that.
But that didn’t make this any less awkward in her mind. Last night had been a bit easier, despite the influx of grieving, but she’d been able to ignore that and just be with JJ without wanting to completely bury herself in a hole and never come out.
And there was also the fact that she told him she’d go to Yucátan with him, that she’d pretty much go anywhere with him, regardless of anything. Yeah, that wasn’t something they were skirting around lately. Well, she figured they’d be if she had completely just left that conversation in the back of her mind.
And it was clear he’d more than likely taken it as a friendly yeah, I’m totally down for just fucking leaving my entire life to go somewhere with you thing considering he hadn’t brought it up once. Which was kind of shocking because while some people tended to write him off as an idiot, he was oddly perceptive when he needed to be. And yet somehow he hadn’t noticed her speech leaned more on the side of weird, cringey, cliche teen rom-com movie bullshit rather than friendship.
God, she hated her brain.
Leah let out another groan, deciding to take initiative to not be a complete fucking weirdo around JJ because fuck, they all needed to stick together now more than ever, and so she promptly chucked the pillow off of her.
Normal, she could do that. And then she truly focused on him as she turned onto her side again, picking up on how he’d fallen silent. The pencil was now held tightly between his fingers, a crease between his eyebrows that was born of pure concentration as he poked at the skin of his lower calf with the needle he’d fastened to the writing utensil.
Oh, great, he’d set up an impromptu tattoo parlor while she was sleeping, that wasn’t concerning at all. And — was he wearing fucking overalls?
Christ, of course he looked good in overalls. Just fucking spectacular.
“Stare any harder and I’m gonna start charging you by the minute, Lee Lee.”
Leah’s eyes snapped up to meet his once again amused expression, not having noticed how her gaze had seemingly just zoned out at the sight of him. She could feel heat coursing up the back of her neck at the embarrassment at being caught, not even caring at the use of that god awful nickname
“Nice overalls,” she told him, sarcasm all over her tone. Inside, she was cringing. Nice job, Leah, draw attention to another thing you don’t want to think about, fucking brilliant job, she thought to herself, but her mouth was already going again before she could just, y’know, shut the fuck up. “Is there a barn raising I don’t know about?”
JJ narrowed his eyes at her, playfully brandishing his pencil at her. “For all you know these overalls could have gotten me the best handy of my life once.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, rolling her eyes at his cocky grin. “Please, no one gets laid wearing overalls. And what the fuck are you even doing right now?”
“Stick and poke,” JJ said matter-of-factly, raising his eyebrows before promptly sticking himself again as if to prove his point. He barely so much as hissed at the stab of needle, tugging his teeth between his lips for a moment as he focused back in on his work. “Kie showed me how to do it.”
“Please tell me you at least sterilized the needle.”
Not even looking up from his leg, he gestured the pencil in the direction of the table beside him. “What do you think the lighter is for?”
Sure enough, his light was discarded beside him. That didn’t do much to make her feel better, though, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Considering it’s you? Anything from smoking a J to arson, probably.”
“Haha, real funny, Lee,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he continued to stab at his skin. JJ was silent for a moment before asking, “Want one when I’m done?”
If you had told her she’d be waking up to her best friend wearing overalls and offering to give her a tattoo in John B’s living room, she probably would have just stayed asleep. She wasn’t really sure how to tell him she didn’t exactly trust him to stab her multiple times with a questionable looking needle ... and dear God, she didn’t even want to consider what he was possibly using as ink. So she opted to go for the slightly less scathing remark.
Leah sat up a bit, supporting herself on her elbows. “Do you have another needle?”
“Uh...” JJ paused, glancing around the table. “That’s a negative.”
“Then at the risk of getting an infection, I’m gonna pass.”
“I could just do the lighter thing again,” he offered.
Leah sighed, running a hand through her hair as she sat up fully, legs swinging to hang off the edge of the couch. “J, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t even know if I trust that you sterilized it right the first time.”
“Ye of little faith,” JJ cried out in offense, once again brandishing his pencil at her. He jokingly narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re wounding me here, Lee. Total lack of respect.”
“I’m sure your big ass ego will get over it,” Leah retorted, shaking her head at him with a laugh.
They lapsed into silence again, JJ continuing to prick his calf with a steady hand and an oddly intense air of concentration. Leah reverted back to just watching him quietly, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her head into her waiting hands. This was probably the most still she’d ever seen him as long as she’d known him, bar when he was passed out asleep.
Compared to last night, the JJ she was seeing now was doing a pretty bang up job at holding it together. Or, at least, pretending that he was. They hadn’t said a whole ton last night, but Leah knew as well as she knew the sky was blue that JJ wasn’t doing okay.
The open (and most likely empty) can of beer on the table beside him only solidified that thought.
She wanted to comment that giving yourself a tattoo after drinking was very much not recommended, a know-it-all tone ready to join the factoid on her tongue, but she wasn’t sure how many buttons she’d be able to push before it’d turn into an actual argument.
And fuck, if there was one person she didn’t want to be on the outs with any time soon, it was him.
So instead, she kept her mouth shut, letting her eyes trail across his furrowed brow and the tongue poking out from between his lips in thought. From where she sat, she couldn’t see what he was etching into his skin and while she wasn’t really supporting the impromptu DIY tat, the suspense was starting gnaw at her insides.
Before she even realized what she was doing, she was up and crossing the room. JJ didn’t even bother looking up as she approached him, his attention only being hooked when Leah pushed a few of the things on the table aside before boosting herself up to sit on it.
He looked between her and the table a few times, before a laugh escaped him. “Sure, just make yourself at home, why don’t ya? You’re lucky I’m done,” he told her, setting his pencil on a bit of the table not occupied by her.
She shrugged, taking the opportunity to look down at his skin. Turning her head to the side so that she was actually viewing the tattoo the right way, she couldn’t help but feel a tug in her chest once it clicked for her.
P4L was scribbled into the skin in JJ’s all too familiar handwriting, thin and somewhat crooked lines formed into a tiny brand of Pogue status. More than that, it was a sign of friendship, of family. In a world of haves and have nots, they had each other.
A soft smile pulled at her lips, corners turning upward as she looked at it with an equally soft gaze. “It looks good.”
JJ flashed a weak smile. He cleared his throat and the words he spoke were joking, a clear shift for the conversation to go somewhere less somber, less intense. “You jealous you’re not a true Pogue, Lee?”
Leah’s brow knitted together in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“No tattoo, fake Pogue.”
“I don’t remember that in the Pogue friendship rulebook.”
“Just added it,” JJ shot back, a smug little look in his eyes.
She couldn’t help but snort. “Great, I’ll be sure to tell Pope about the new mandate so he can promptly shit his pants at the thought of getting a tattoo with a needle duct taped to a pencil.”
“Nah, Pope’s got guts,” JJ countered but all it took was one raised eyebrow from Leah for his statement to fold like a cheap suit. “Okay, yeah, he’d freak.”
“Ya think?” Leah asked with a laugh, her eyes bright with amusement. She took another glance at his new tattoo. “It really does look good, though. If I actually trusted you to permanently alter my body with a needle, I might’ve reconsidered.”
She expected JJ to scoff and go on another rant of how she was insulting his honor or something, but all she was met with was JJ staring intently at her, lost in thought as he mulled something over. That creeping feeling filled her chest as he looked her over and she had about nine thousand guesses for what could possibly be going through his head as she grew a bit nervous under his gaze.
None of those things were JJ going, “Got an idea,” while reaching around her for something on the table.
She watched on in quiet confusion as he retrieved a Sharpie from behind her, waving it around a bit like he’d just won a prize. There was a devilish grin on his lips as his eyes trailed over her before zeroing in on her arm. JJ didn’t bother with niceties as he pulled her arm from her lap, tugging it towards him and flipping it palm side up.
“What are you ... ?” Leah asked, trailing off as she let him all but manhandle her arm.
“Shh, genius at work,” he told her, pointing yet another writing utensil at her in a mock threat. He took her wrist in his hand, using the other one to push up the array of beaded and string bracelets crowding her arm.
Pulling the Sharpie’s cap off with his teeth and spitting it out to the side, JJ’s brow furrowed in concentration as he put the marker to her skin, leaving black ink in his wake. Leah already knew what he’d be writing, but still she found herself watching intently as his chicken scratch scribbled across her skin, as if he’d suddenly depart from being sentimental and draw a dick on her arm or something.
He pulled back after a moment, gently rubbing his thumb just under his masterpiece, and he grinned at her, the first real smile she’d seen from him in days. It reached his eyes, the blue of them clear and bright and just ... happy. He looked happy, even if this exchange would only last for another few moments, and it made Leah’s heart do a funny little flip in her chest.
At the risk of making eye contact with her best friend for longer than necessary, the kind of extended look that would risk awkwardness and things Leah was far too sober to think about, she averted her gaze.
Written in what honestly looked like some of JJ’s best handwriting, P4L inked her skin, a small and semi permanent declaration of her Pogue status. A tiny laugh escaped her, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she looked it over.
“There, now we match,” JJ told her.
She looked back up, eyes locking with his. Dimples showing, JJ was still giving her that smile, that goddamn smile that only ever worked to make hers grow wider. The same smile that had, as of late, made her feel slightly dizzy, like her once perfectly structured world had gone just a hair off-kilter and metamorphosed into something else. And it wasn’t helped by the fact that, though there was no reason for it, he was still holding onto her wrist, callused fingers hot against her skin.
Her heart did that funny little flip again, just once more with feeling. Leah out a breath, nodding just a bit. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
