Hello @poptartsplat! I’m your secret santa for the @pandoraheartssecretsanta~ (Sorry this is late i accidentally left it as a draft ^^’) I went with your prompt “Gil with tattoos.” It ended up being… a lot longer than planned lol. I hope you like it!! Happy holidays!
Title: Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?
Rating: T just in case
Word Count: 1834
Summary: Gil decides he wants to get a tattoo, just like Uncle Oscar. Stupidly, he thought he could keep Oz and Break from finding out. He was wrong, of course.
“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it, Gilbert-kun?”
All Gilbert could do was groan and shove his face further into the carpet. It was useless to keep trying to shove Break off of himself; he’d just pin him back down again. His only option was to lay there, on the floor, with Break sitting on his back and Oz poking his shoulder that’s still very sore, thank you very much, wondering just what in the world he did to ever deserve such treatment.
~~~~~~~~~~
Three days earlier…
Gilbert’s hand hovered over the door for the billionth time in the last 10 minutes. He could do this, he only spent the whole night before practicing everything he was going to say to Oscar. It was simple, really; all he had to say was, “Hi, would you please go with me to get a tattoo?” No big deal. Sure, he was already 24, so it was kind of ridiculous to be scared to go alone, but Oscar had experience. He knew the best place to get one, and probably knew everyone there, so it’d be all-around more comfortable for everyone involved if the friendly, charismatic Oscar was there too.
His other hand clenched around the plate of cookies; white chocolate macadamia nut, Oscar’s favorite. What was I thinking! I can’t do this! he thought. He probably won’t wanna go. Why should I get a tattoo anyway? They must hurt a lot, and I-
“Oh, Gil! How nice of you to swing by!”
Gilbert jumped back with a yelp. Did Oscar know he was there this whole time?!
“What’re ya standin’ around for! Come on in, you’re no stranger!” Oscar said with a warm smile. The older man waved the other in before heading back into the apartment. Taking a moment to calm his racing heart, Gilbert followed.
Oscar’s apartment wasn’t much to look at. It was a one-bedroom bachelor pad, decorated with mismatched furniture and bookshelves. Pictures of Oscar, Oz, Ada, and Gilbert hung from the walls and sat on any available surface. Oscar always was a family man.
Looking at the pictures filled Gilbert with fondness. He wasn’t really related to any of them by blood. It had been ten years since Oscar took him in. He still doesn’t understand why; Oscar was already taking care of his nephew Oz Why take in another child? Gilbert couldn’t help but feel like a burden.
Regardless, Oscar loved and cared for Gilbert as if he were his own child. He did everything he could to make sure Gilbert felt like he belonged. Oz and Ada, though they were much younger than Gilbert, still treated him like a real brother. Even when Gilbert discovered he had a brother, Oscar did everything he could to help get in contact with him, and understood when Gilbert decided to go live with Vincent and his family.
Gilbert smiled fondly. He couldn’t have asked for a better family.
“So, what brings you here, Gil?” Oscar asked.
The question broke Gil from his reverie. Right. He was here for a reason.
Deep breaths Gilbert. You can do this. “Would you…maybe take me to…get a tattoo…?” He couldn’t look at Oscar, it was too embarrassing.
…
……..
Why wasn’t he saying anything?! Gilbert reluctantly opened his eyes to peek at Oscar. The man was standing there, half-eaten cookie in hand, excitement in his eyes and grinning like a madman.
“Umm…?”
“Gilbert!” Oscar reached an arm across the bar to pull Gilbert into a hug. “So grown up now! It’s all because of that piercing we got ya, huh?” he joked, ruffling Gilbert’s hair. He tried to bat his hand away, but stopped when Oscar shifted to stroking Gilbert’s hair. His voice softened. “How could I say no? I’d be honored to go with you.”
Gilbert craned his head up to look at Oscar. The older man met his gaze with a soft smile. “Thanks, Uncle Oscar.” Gilbert returned the smile before resting his head back on Oscar’s shoulder.
They stayed like that for a minute, until Gilbert tapped Oscar’s arm. “Um, Oscar? This is great and all, but the counter’s kind of digging into my stomach.”
“Oops. Sorry.”
~~~~~~~~~~
And so, two days later, Oscar and Gilbert made their way to Oscar’s favorite tattoo shop. It took a lot of effort to keep Oscar from telling Oz about this. It’s not that he didn’t want him to know it’s just… Oz would definitely want to join them. Then he’d see Gilbert in all the pain he would undoubtedly be in, which would no doubt be used as blackmail against him later. And Oz did not need any more dirt on him.
He loved Oz dearly, but sometimes he just wasn’t good for Gilbert’s health.
The people at the shop were a lot nicer than Gilbert expected. They walked him through the process, answered all of his questions, and just overall made him feel pretty good about having a needle repeatedly poked into his skin.
Oscar, of course, did most of the talking during the session. That was fine with Gilbert, though. The sound of a familiar voice was much more soothing than trying to make small talk with a stranger. Oscar’s voice seemed to have the power to make anyone feel at ease. Before he knew it, the session was over and they were making an appointment for the next one.
They had to split it into at least two sessions; the design Gilbert chose was mostly black, unsurprisingly, and fairly detailed, so the shading and filling would have to wait.
~~~~~~~~~
When Gilbert opens the door to his apartment later that day, he almost dropped his groceries in surprise. There sitting on his couch is no other than Oz and Break, drinking his tea from his favorite mugs.
“Fiiiinally, you’re back!” Oz yelled. Next to him, Break crossed his legs, popping a sugar cube in his mouth, grinning like a madman.
“How kind of you to join us, Gilbert-kun.”
Gilbert’s eye twitched. “Wha- How did you guys even get in?!” He asked incredulously. Oz whistled innocently as he spun a keyring around his finger.
Oh. Right. He forgot he’d given Oz a key to his apartment when he moved in. In case of emergency, he said.
He was definitely taking it back before they left.
The dark haired man placed the bags on the floor next to him as he toed off his shoes. He pinched the bridge of his nose; he could already feel a headache coming on. “Why are you guys here?” He asked tiredly. Break leaned into the couch, propping his dirty shoes on Gilbert’s clean coffee table. “And get your damn feet off my table!” Did this man have no respect? A quick glance down told him Oz, at least, was kind enough to take his shoes off before intruding.
“Boo, so mean~” Break pouted, but he complied. “You see, we’ve come to investigate some…interesting rumors about you.”
“…What?” Does he always have to be so cryptic?
Oz jumped up from the couch. “We heard you got a tattoo!” he said excitedly.
Gilbert froze. It’s literally been three hours since they left the tattoo parlor. How did they already know?
Before he could ask, Oz walked over to him and shoved his phone in his face. He almost dropped it when he read what was on the screen.
…In hindsight, he should’ve told Oscar not to tell anybody. Poor planning on Gilbert’s part, really.
…But you should know your nephew can see your facebook posts!
Gilbert sort of wanted to bang his head against the wall. Or hide in his room until the other two left him alone.
“…What makes you think he’s talking about me?” he lied, pointedly looking anywhere except at Oz or Break.
He could feel the disbelieving look Oz was giving him. “Please, Gil, you know you’re a terrible liar,” Oz said. Damn it. Couldn’t hurt to try, though.
Gilbert let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, yes, I got a tattoo.” He picked up the bags and carried them to the kitchen to put the food away, ignoring the way Oz perked up at his admission, or Break’s sly smirk. As he started taking stuff out, he called back to them, “But no one gets to see it until it’s done!” Oz made a noise of disappointment. Maybe now they wouldn’t bother pestering him.
After a minute of silence, he almost thought it worked, too. But when he turned around Oz and Break were standing right behind him good lord. Gilbert all but yelped. The evil looks on their faces promised nothing but trouble. Why is everyone bent on scaring him this week?!
“We thought you might say that, Gil-kun–” said Break.
“So we came prepared,” Oz finished.
The two crept forward, ever so slowly closing in on Gilbert. He looked at them both, before ducking between them and darting for his room.
At least, that was the idea. Next thing he knew, Gilbert was lying face first on his floor, with an uncomfortable weight on his back and his sleeve pulled over his left shoulder.
“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it, Gilbert-kun?”
He tried to push himself up, but it’s difficult to do so with a grown man on your back and one very sore shoulder. All he could do was groan into the carpet. At least he wasn’t on the kitchen floor.
“Why…? Why are you like this,” he said, more a statement than a question.
It seems the other two had no intention of listening to him whine. Oz lifted his sleeve to get a better look. “It’s a…bird?” he asked poking around it gently. When Gilbert flinched, he kept poking it to see if he’d do it again.
“Stop that! And it’s a—”
“—It’s a Raven, Oz-kun,” Break finished. Gilbert could hear the sly smirk in his voice.
“Hey! Don’t ignore me!”
“Figures,” said Oz. “Of course Gil would pick something so…edgy looking. Maybe you really are emo!” Oz’s laughter cut through Gilbert’s fighting spirit. He wasn’t emo! He just happened to like black and things that are black! It’s a nice color, sue him.
“You know how much he looks up to your Uncle. Our Gil probably only got a tattoo because Oscar has so many~”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. But how dare they read him so easily?!
“Oooh, you’re right, Break. He’s such an Uncle’s-boy~”
Defeated, Gilbert buried his face into the carpet once more. “You got what you wanted. Can I get up now?” he whined.
Break clicked his tongue at that. “So impatient. You can go sulk in your room in a minute—” Gilbert could hardly contain an indignant squawk—“But! On one condition.”
Oh boy.
He lifted his head to find Oz lying on the floor in front of him. “Youuu have to let us come with next time!” the boy said cheerfully.
Maybe he should’ve just stayed in bed today.