Summary: Blaine is a tattoo artist in California. Kurt is a nomad tattoo artist, living and working in a different city every few weeks leaving behind nothing but a few tattoos. Until he meets Blaine.
A/N: This is going to be a verse of mine that I got to thinking about while talking to maddie. It's not going to go in order or have a definite end, I'm just going to write different parts of their story as they come to me. This part is tame-- just the story of how they meet. There could be warnings for future instalments, though. Thanks for reading!
Blaine's in the ink room going through CDs to play for the shop when Santana calls him to the front. He sighs, glancing back and forth between two discs in his hands before ultimately deciding which one to place in the pile atop the sound system beside Santana and Lauren's picks for the day.
He pushes aside the barrier separating the ink and business sections of the shop (a mixture of curtains and beads) and steps into the front room. The front is where they do most of the business. It holds the cash register and a few chairs for waiting customers, along with samples of their work hanging on the walls. It's early yet, the parlour doesn't open until ten, so with the exception of himself and Santana the entire shop should be empty.
But it's not, because there's someone standing next to Santana.
Their backs are to Blaine, Santana's loose-fitting tank-top displaying the two songbirds that rest frozen mid-flight on her shoulder-blade-- one filled in black, the other only an outline. The stranger's button-up shirt covers the majority of his arms, but Blaine can see shadows of color under the white fabric.
"You wanted something?" Blaine asks, garnering the attention of both his co-worker and the stranger.
They both turn to look at him, Santana smiling slyly and the newcomer looking at Santana with both irritation and fondness. Blaine understands. Santana can have that effect on people.
"Sure did, Hobbit." Santana says, motioning Blaine forward. "This here is Lady Hummel, or Kurt to you. He's going to be working with us for a while."
Blaine's eyebrows rise in surprise. "You must be pretty good." he addresses Kurt, "She usually terrorizes new meat for a while before officially hiring them."
Santana shrugs, unashamed. She's picky about who she'll let do work in her shop. She'll only accept the best, for herself and her customers. Blaine has always assumed that's the reason why she has so little ink done on herself. For the owner of a tattoo parlor she has a surprising amount of blank skin. Blaine's not like that. He would feel naked without the tattoos that cover his body.
"I don't doubt it for a second." Kurt laughs, a laugh that's high and musical. It reminds Blaine of the wind-chimes they have hanging in the far back of the shop, also known as the artist's lounge.
"Porcelain and I go way back." Santana explains, "he's staying with me for an undetermined amount of time, and since he's a damn good artist i figured this was a good way for him to earn his keep. I can't just start taking in strays from the goodness of my heart."
Kurt rolls his eyes beside her, and Blaine chuckles. "I'm guessing you want me to show him around?"
Santana nods. "He's not starting until tomorrow, but it would be easier to make him a little less clueless today." She gives Kurt a small shove in Blaine's direction, and he gives her a look.
"Well go on, follow Frodo." She insists, and then returns her attention to the appointment book on the front desk.
Kurt and Blaine lock eyes, and Blaine supplies an inviting smile with a motion over his shoulder. A silent "Shall we go?"
Kurt nods. And Blaine turns to go back through the curtains and beads, this time with his new co-worker following close behind.
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"...and this is the artist's lounge. It's basically a glorified break room." They've reached the end of the tour, and Blaine is taking Kurt through the red door at the back of the shop that leads to the small back room.
It's a mix of different styles, the back room. The walls are painted a deep red, Santana's favorite color, but the paint-job only makes appearances in patches. Most of the wall space is taken up by posters from different bands and movies, wall hangings, and pictures of the staff together pinned to the wall with no semblance of order or organization. The small coffee table in the center of the room is littered with sketch books and coffee cups—they each have their own mug that they brought from home. There’s yet another sound system tucked into one corner, and an old coffee machine in the corner opposite that. Around the coffee table is an old couch with cushions that sink inward in the best way and a tattered blanket thrown over its back, one cheetah-print beanbag that was donated by Lauren’s boyfriend, and some thick cushions on the floor next to that. Blaine’s not sure where those cushions came from, but none of them match.
“I like it.” Kurt says, casting an appreciative gaze around the room.
“It’s home.” Blaine supplies, because it’s true. He spends more time in that back room, drinking coffee on breaks and then beer after closing time, talking to the girls or singing loudly to whatever music is playing, than he does in his apartment. “We’re kind of a little family here.” He looks over to find Kurt looking back at him with an expression he can’t quite place.
“I can tell.” Kurt finally says, and the share a small smile.
Blaine’s already decided he likes Kurt. He has a sarcastic wit, but not in the scathing way that Santana does. With Kurt, you know that you’re always in on the joke too, rather than the subject of comedy. He has a portion of a collarbone tattoo peeking out from behind his shirt, though Blaine can’t make out what it is, and a bar of music wrapping around one forearm. Blaine wonders what song it is, but he’s not about to ask. His sandy hair is done up in an immaculate swoop, not a hair out of place. Blaine tries not to compare it to the mess of curls that he’s currently hiding under a navy beanie. The vest he wears over his button-up shirt shows off a thin waist, and his faded blue jeans disappear into shiny black boots.
Blaine’s still thinking when Kurt breaks the silence. “So... I’m guessing Frodo isn’t really your name?”
Blaine widens his eyes, had he really not told Kurt his name during the entire tour? “Oh! No... no. It’s Blaine. But you’ll never actually hear Santana call me that. I tried to stop her when she first started calling me that, but my efforts were not helped along by the fact that I’ve got a tattoo in Elvish.” He holds up his right hand, where said tattoo is wrapped around one finger in a thin loop.
Kurt’s lips quirk up into a smile.
“Santana didn’t mention you were coming.” Blaine says casually. He thought it odd that he hadn’t been told about Kurt in advance, this was the kind of thing the parlour owner (and Blaine’s best friend) would usually run by him.
Kurt shifts from foot to foot. “Well I didn’t really give her the chance. I just got into California this morning.” He admits, “She didn’t even know I was here until I showed up at the shop about ten minutes before she called you up front.”
Blaine isn’t able to hide his surprised look. And Kurt just shrugs.
“I never stay in one place for long.” The newcomer admits, “I wasn’t even sure that I was coming here until I stepped off the bus.”
Now Blaine is definitely intrigued, but he decides not to ask any questions. If the curiosity gets too much, he can ask Santana for some information later. Right now he just doesn’t want to step on Kurt’s toes. Especially since they’ll be working together.
“Well, Kurt.” Blaine says, flashing a charming smile, “Let me be the first to say: Welcome to Valerie’s Ink. I think you’ll fit right in.”
Kurt smiles brightly back at him, taking his extended hand. “I can honestly say I’m glad that I’m here.”
devonsanderson replied to your post: devonsanderson replied to your post: Daddy kink ... i’m joining i’m joining now lET ME IN GOD DAMMIT Shh you're in. Rachel, Maddie's in the daddy kink club yes
