they both have the same pot dealer/point-and-stick prison-style tattoo artist (zayn). clint drops by one night after having a truly terrible day. his van got stolen, which is doubly bad because he was living in it. and so maybe he shouldn’t have left it idling there unattended but there was a really cool dog across the street that he needed to pet! and so all of his shit is gone, and he got caught in the rain walking to zayn’s, so when he goes inside, his mohawk is wilting and his eyeliner is running and his teeth are chattering which makes his lip ring feel funny, and all he wants is to get high and maybe trick zayn into letting him spend the night on his couch. but there’s already someone sitting on zayn’s couch, this guy in jean shorts and a hoodie and vans and a backwards baseball cap, and his hair is long and falling in his eyes, and he solemnly extends his arm to clint to pass him a joint, saying, “you look like shit, mate,” and clint is caught off guard and doesn’t know what to do with that, so he says something really smooth and clever like, “your face looks like shit.” but louis just smiles at him, serene and smug, because he knows he doesn’t look like shit at all. and then zayn walks into the room, and louis takes his shirt off so zayn can get back to the checkerboard pattern he’s doing over louis’ ribs, and it looks truly fucking terrible, and clint tells them so, and they both ignore him. but even though the tattoo is awful, louis’ body is tight and perfect and wiry, and clint’s disgustingly into him, to the point where he agrees to let louis tattoo a checkerboard on his own ankle, which somehow looks even worse than the first tattoo. but they both end up sleeping on the couch together.
