Work Text:
Ivy looks down at the time on his phone, sucking a breath in between his teeth, before shooting a look back up at the sign on the glass. Sleep is a weird name for any shop, but a tattoo and piercer place? Makes it seem like they’re gonna gas you and take your money; leave you in the alleyway for the rats.
Still, Ivy needs a new local, and he’s been itching for a body mod for a while now, ever since he moved to London. He doesn’t mind the drive back to his old place in Bristol, but this one’s closer, and Ivy’s read a bunch of reviews that recommend the place.
That, and the… eccentric owner. Not to mention Ivy probably shouldn’t go back to the Bristol shop, not while Branwen is still working there.
Ivy pushes the door open, a bell ringing, and looks around. He spies two clean leather couches, a mini fridge with a glass door, packed with red bulls and bottles of water, and a coffee table covered in folders and books, a bowl of wrapped candy sitting smack in the middle. The walls are painted a soft gradient, going from pitch black at the bottom to a light sky blue at the top, reminding Ivy of the ocean. It’s strangely inviting, especially with the black rug in the middle, under the sofas and table, stitched around the edges with weird runes.
He immediately likes the place, and drops to sit on one of the couches, settling his helmet beside him and starting to pull off his jacket. Ivy took the bike, thinking it’d make more sense than bringing the car, since he only lived a twenty minute ride away.
Hears people chatting, coming down a hall that Ivy can’t see, until someone steps behind the desk and waves, just as he drops his jacket by his helmet. “Hey,” the man says, smiling over at Ivy, and he gets up, leaving his gear behind. “You’re our eleven?”
“I think so,” Ivy says, and pulls out his phone to double-check the time. 10:39 AM, he’s a little early, but Ivy’s always been the punctual type. “Ivy?”
The guy sits down on the chair, bouncing a little as she shuffles himself closer to the computer screen, before he clicks through a few things and looks down at a book, pulling it close to flip to the date. “Yup, that’s you,” he says, and looks up at Ivy through his eyelashes. He has nice eyes, a pretty lake blue. “I’m Two. Vess’ll be out in a minute.” Ivy shrugs, because he gets it. “Do you want a drink? Three’s just boiled the kettle.”
Why not? “Sure,” Ivy says, and Two stands up, grabbing an empty mug from his desk. “Just chamomile, if you have it.”
“Sure,” Two repeats, and blinks at him for a second, because he says, “you know, people usually ask about the number thing, but you’re the only one who hasn’t.”
“The number thing?”
“Our names.”
“Oh,” Ivy says, and scratches the back of his head, knowing his face is heating up. “I mean, I can’t talk, my name literally means four, so.”
“Ivy?” Two asks, his nose screwing up, and oh no, but it’s cute. Ivy has to look away, and feels his neck starting to sweat under his fingers.
“Ivy’s my middle name,” he says instead, and lets out a breath when Two doesn’t ask for his actual name. “S’easier to go by, and people can pronounce it better.”
Two snorts, finally stepping away. “Yeah, you’re tellin’ me, mate. Want any honey?”
Ivy hates that his face is flushing. “Huh?”
“In your tea.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks.”
Ivy sits back down, his face hot, and knows his cheeks and ears are red, because he’s always had the worst tells. His sister makes fun of him for it all the fucking time, too. He’s pretty sure he read somewhere, while scrolling through reviews and reddit comments, that the owner and manager are together, and he feels like the biggest idiot for immediately finding one of the staff members attractive.
He’s so fucking easy sometimes. It’s a problem.
Thankfully Ivy’s saved from his inner monologue by someone walking back down the hall, and when he looks up from his phone - he was trying to distract himself, looking at lip jewellery - he’s greeted by a man in a mask, his pale mouth the only thing Ivy is able to see of his face, and now he suddenly understands all those other comments.
More importantly, he remembers one in particular: vessel can come across as a lil weird, but he’s a chill guy! great piercer, wonderful tattoo artist, have no idea how he works through the mask, but he always does a great job. i highly recc going to his shop, the vibes are excellent. i go there to get all my stuff done, and his boyfriends really nice! you’ll get over the mask.
Yeah, if the mask wasn’t doing something for Ivy, maybe. It’s half the reason he got into riding, because he could fool around with people on the side of the road, helmets smacking together, high on the road adrenaline and anonymity.
“Hey,” the guy says, settling down onto the other couch, and hands Ivy his mug. Ivy takes a small sip, the chamomile and honey warm in his throat. “Ivy, right? I’m Vessel, you can just call me Vess.”
“Hi,” Ivy says, swallows a little because fuck, he’s nervous. He took off his balaclava out in the parking lot, and he desperately wishes he was still wearing it, so he’d have another barrier between them. “So, uh. We should do this, huh?”
“Yeah,” Vessel laughs, and it’s a nice laugh, gentle and warm. Fuck. “Finish your tea, I’ll grab the paperwork, and then I’ll have a look at you.”
Ivy watches Vessel stand up, and lets himself appreciate the view: Vessel’s tall, definitely taller than Ivy, and he doesn’t bother walking around the desk, choosing to lean over the lip of it to grab a clipboard. His shirt slides up, a peak of pale skin flashing for a minute, and Ivy drinks the rest of his tea, face red. Fucking hell.
When Vessel drops back into his seat he’s sitting closer, knees knocking against Ivy’s. “We can do this out back, or I can have a look here,” he says, putting the paperwork and a box of gloves on the table. “Up to you.”
“Here’s okay,” Ivy says, because at least when he’s getting a needle shoved through his face he won’t feel like he’s teetering on the edge of arousal. He has to remember: Vessel has a boyfriend, he needs to calm down. Clears his throat, putting his empty mug down on the coffee table, and shuffles closer. “How you want me?”
“Here’s fine,” Vessel says, already pulling on the nitrile gloves, and once Ivy’s settled he shifts closer, knees on either side of Ivy’s. “Open up for me.”
Ivy does, taking a deep breath as Vessel’s gloved fingers pull his lip down, and Ivy can’t see his eyes, so he has no idea where he’s staring. Looks up, to save himself the embarrassment of getting caught, because now that Vessel’s in his face he can see the mask better, the intricate design.
That, and the colourful shapes of his arm tattoos, extending down from a chest piece that Ivy got the slightest glimpse at when Vessel sat close, all the way to his wrists, disappearing under the gloves. He’s in a goddamn singlet, so his arms are distracting, and Ivy tries to focus on the wood grain on the ceiling.
Vessel’s careful as he inspects him, humming in his throat, like he’s thinking. “Yeah, you’ll be good,” Vessel finally says, and Ivy looks at him - at the mask. Something behind it moves, and Ivy thinks it might be his eyes, but he can’t be sure. Vessel leans back. “Here’s the paperwork, I’ll just go finish setting up. Need anything?”
Ivy shakes his head, because he’s good, and he’s trying to get his shit together. Says, “sure thing, won’t be long,” and reaches for the clipboard and pen and starts filling it in. The paperwork is comforting, even though it’s been a while since he’s had to properly fill one; he was going to the Bristol shop so often that they stopped asking him to fill it in.
That should’ve been a red flag for him, but Ivy’s always had trouble saying no to pretty things.
When he finishes it Two’s come back out to sit behind the desk, and happily accepts the clipboard when Ivy hands it to him. Says, “don’t worry about it, man, I believe you’re over eighteen,” when Ivy flips out his driver's licence.
“Wow, you’re a trusting lot,” Ivy says, tucking it away, and Two shrugs with a smile. “Where should I put my stuff?”
“Just leave it with me, I’ll take care of it.”
Ivy hesitates for a second, shooting a look down at his helmet and bike jacket over his arms, before carefully putting it on the lip of the desk. “You’re sure? I don’t mind carrying it.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Two says, already sitting back down and scrolling through something on the computer, giving Ivy a warm look. “You’re about to get stabbed, mate, I can look after your stuff.”
Fair, Ivy thinks, and Vessel steps back into the room to say, “ready?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says slowly, and follows Vessel through to the rest of the shop. There’s sections blocked off with dividers, most of them pulled back, with tables and chairs all set up. One of the pockets of spaces has one guy in it, biting his tongue as he tattoos his own thigh, and when he notices Ivy looking, leans up to give him a wave. Ivy waves back.
“That’s Three,” Vessel says, stopping to step over to the other man, looking down at his wet thigh, and maybe he’s scrutinising Three’s work, not that Ivy can tell, with the mask and all. “Yeah, keep going, you’re doing great, babe.”
“Thanks, doll,” Three says, and gets a gentle pat on the head from Vessel. “I’ll come get you when it’s done?”
“Just yell for me, I’ll hear you.” Vessel steps away, but not before dropping his face into Three’s hair, and Ivy looks away, flushing. Is this the manager? Maybe Two’s-
But no, that’s a bad idea, considering how it ended last time.
“Sorry,” Vessel says as he starts leading Ivy over to an open door, and when they step through it’s a sterilised room, painted in a gradient, just like the front, except it’s from a dusty pink at the bottom to a midnight blue at the top, like a sunset. “He’s doing his apprenticeship, his mentor’s on holiday.”
“It’s fine,” Ivy shrugs, because it is, and the pre-mod adrenaline is starting to pump through his veins. He sits down on the table when Vessel gestures for him to, shuffling to get comfortable. “How long has he been apprenticing?”
“Hm, a few months?” Vessel answers, sitting down on a stool and turning to his small table of sterilised things. Everything is in individual packaging, and Vessel snaps on a single glove, and at his wave Ivy leans forward, letting Vessel dot his lip with the marker. “I’ve known him for years, though, I’m not surprised it happened.”
Ivy hums, nodding and leaning back, and asks, “so he was the manager first?”
“Three? Nah, he’s bad at bookkeeping. Two’s been the manager since day one, why do you ask?”
But you and the manager, Ivy’s thinks quickly, blinking at Vessel’s face - at the mask. “Uh, no reason, just read a lot of reviews. You have a tonne of loyal redditors.”
“Oh, yeah,” Vessel laughs, replacing his first glove with a new one, and snaps on the second with a smile. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Doing this is normal, something Ivy’s gotten used to. His bridge is done, he’s already got four nose piercings, as well as his septum stretched, and both of his ears are a mess of half-assed home piercings and professional ones. He also has his tongue pierced, and Ivy’s looking forward to the sound it’ll make, bumping against the ball in his lip. Most of them were done by Branwen, and-
And Ivy closes his eyes, choosing not to think about that, and sucks in a small breath when Vessel’s gentle finger tugs his lip down, setting the clamp in place. “Won’t be long,” Vessel says softly, and relaxes his hand, Ivy’s lip curling. He sets the sharp tip of the needle against the outside of Ivy’s lip. “Deep breath for me, honey.” Pushes, only when Ivy’s sucks in a big breath, holding it in as the needle slides through. “That’s it, open up nice and wide for me.”
Ivy does, jaw falling, and opens his eyes when Vessel moves back for a second, the stool rolling, says, “just a bit,” and grabs the sterilised jewellery that he’s already opened and slides back over. Ivy breathes in again as Vessel pushes the jewellery through, the needle sliding out, before twisting on the ball, and settling back.
All in all it takes less than thirty seconds, Vessel’s movements precise and organised, and Ivy’s so happy he’s only a little chubbed up, a little hot under the collar. He’s doing this to prove something to himself, and so far he’s doing well enough in his own books.
“Looks good,” Vessel says, after a moment of tilting his head from side to side, a little like a bird - and fuck, but it’s kinda cute - and snaps his gloves off. “You’re good for aftercare, or want me to go over it?”
“Nah, m’good,” Ivy says slowly, testing his lip. It’s sore, obviously, but the adrenaline running down his thighs is swamping out the pain. “Already bought it.”
“Cool, you’re done, then,” Vessel says, smiling, and stands up, offering Ivy a hand. Ivy takes it, trying not to memorise the feel of his skin. It’s not going well. “I’ll take you back out front.”
Vessel drops his hand, and Ivy tenses it for a second, flexing his fingers, before he follows Vessel back through the shop. He has a back tattoo, peaking out at the top of his shirt, what looks like a pentagram or something, over a starry sky. Ivy tries not to memorise that, too.
“Looks good,” Two says, when Ivy steps in front of the desk, Vessel sliding behind the other man to sit on his stool. “Really suits you.”
“Thanks,” Ivy says, flushing, and takes his helmet and jacket back when Two hands them over. He doesn’t even struggle to hold them up, like a lot of people do, because they’re not light - makes Ivy wonder about the strength in his skinny arms. “What's the damage?”
Vessel laughs, that lovely warm sound, and tells him the price. Ivy counts out his cash, and hands it over. Vessel counts it out again, pausing, head looking up to stare at Ivy. He can’t tell what expression he has, not with the mask, but by the shape of his mouth Ivy thinks it’s curious.
“You gave me extra,” he says, slowly, his voice lilting. Ivy shrugs, says, it’s a tip, and Vessel’s lips curve up at the end, like he’s smirking. “You don’t have to, Ivy.”
“I want to,” he says, a little firmer than he probably should, but Vessel just shrugs and puts the cash away. “Since I’ll probably be coming here from now on.”
“Really?” Two asks, smiling, and Ivy’s hesitates for a beat, before nodding. “Nice.”
“That’s good,” Vessel says, and leans his head on his folded hands, elbows on the desk, and Ivy thinks he must be looking at him - hopes he is. “Maybe I can convince you to let me finish this.” He reaches out, a soft finger tapping on Ivy’s collar, where the half-finished snake on his neck sits, and how did Ivy not notice how fucking long his arms are? Ivy swallows. “Unless you’re waiting on someone.”
“I’m not,” Ivy says, maybe a bit too quick, if the thump of pain through his lip has anything to say. “I mean. I’m not, waiting, that is. Yeah, that’d be cool.”
The door swings open, the bell ringing, and Two says, “that’s Stace, your twelve, I’ll get her settled,” before he presses his lips against Vessel’s chin, a soft and barely there touch, and steps out from behind the desk.
Ivy blinks. But didn’t Three-
“Soft foods, yoghourt, all that, you probably already know this, since your tongues done,” Vessel says, and stands up, stretching. The muscles of his arms flex as he does it. “Come in, if it’s giving you grief,” and now he is smirking, something Ivy can identify, as he adds, “or just to see me.”
“Sure,” Ivy says, just to say something, because he’s feeling a little caught. Grabs his jacket and pulls it on, zipping it up, and he thinks Vessel’s still watching him. “Uh, bye, for now.”
“Bye, Ivy.”
Ivy doesn’t rush out, exactly, but he doesn’t take his time either, heading straight for his bike so he can stop thinking about the thump of his pulse in his dick, the sound of rushing blood in his ears. He came here to prove he could get a piercing without… getting horny, basically, trying to cut that line in his head that tells him body modifications equal sex.
It’s hard.
He’s a little hard.
Fuckssake.
-
Aileen is happy about the lip piercing, when she comes home from her shift at the garage. Tilts Ivy’s head from side to side, the way Vessel had, and hums approvingly, before she drops her hand.
“Ma’s gonna have a fit,” she says, snickering into her mashed potato. “Looks cool, though. You did okay?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says quietly, eating his own dinner. Ails knows about Branwen, was the one who dragged his ass to London so he could get some space, some breathing room, and she’s trying to be careful, the way she’s asking him. It’s sweet. “Yeah, m’good, place was nice.” Eats his dinner, before adding, “I’m gonna get the snake finished there, I think.”
“That’s a good idea,” Aileen says, her eyes flicking down to the half-finished tattoo along his neck, and nods. “Yeah, great idea.”
-
A few weeks later finds Ivy in the supermarket, trying to find the right oat milk, because Aileen’s so goddamn particular about what she drinks with her tea, and Ivy’s trying to be a good big brother about it, instead of rubbing it in her face that she just has the worst gut.
Grabs a box, a light blue that he thinks she drinks, when someone’s hand reaches out for another one and shakes it in his face.
“This one,” they say, and Ivy turns to look up at Three, the apprentice from Sleep. “Seriously, that one tastes like water, try this one.”
“Thanks,” Ivy says, a little stumped, and puts the other one back, before dropping Three’s oat milk into his basket. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Three says, smiling, and Ivy blinks, looks away quickly, and hopes to god that his face isn’t pink. “Ivy, right? The lip’s looking good.” Ivy nods, looking back at him, and Three’s examining his lip piercing, focused. “Vess mentioned you’re gonna let him finish your neck?”
“Uh, yeah,” Ivy says, and now he is blushing, his ears hot. “How’s the thigh?”
“Huh? Oh! Good, thanks for asking!” Three says, smiling wider, showing all his teeth as he lifts his shorts, to show off his pale legs and the thigh tattoo. It’s of a deer’s skull, teeth sharp and pointed, a criss-crossing of red string through the antlers, dotted with stars and runes. “Vess and I designed it, cool, right?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, because it is - something a little feral about it. “He mentioned me?”
“Kidding me? Yeah, he did,” Three snorts, and now he’s leaning against the stack of milk substitutes, looking down at Ivy with a sharp stare. “Sad he didn’t get a chance to ask about your bike, since he’s in the market. Won’t let me get one, but he’s allowed, bastard.”
Ivy feels a little blown over, is Three just this talkative to everyone? “Won’t let you get one?”
“Yeah, something about boyfriend-insurance, like that’s a thing! I was like, babe, listen, you get a bike and I’ll get a bike and Two can backpack, it’ll be fine, and then Two gets annoyed, ‘cause he has his car, he can just meet us somewhere-”
“Are you yapping again?” Two’s voice calls, and a trolley gets bumped into Three’s leg, stopping his tirade. Ivy blinks, a little grateful. “Sorry, Ivy, I let him out of my sight for like, ten seconds.”
“I’m not a dog, Two.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Wow,” Ivy says, because he’s so confused, and now that Two’s standing in front of him he’d kinda forgotten how good looking he was. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Two says, waving, and smiles at him. Why the fuck is everyone in this shop so pretty? “Lip looks good! Should come by to let us get a photo.”
“Sure,” Ivy says, because he’s definitely not had a draft email to their store open on his phone for five days now, working up the nerve to send it, asking, should we do a consult? “I can do that.”
“Cool,” Two says, and hooks his finger into Three’s belt loop, pulling him away as he starts down the aisle. “Don’t be a stranger, Ivy!”
Ivy finishes his shopping, and when Aileen gets home that night she pulls out the oat milk that Three suggested, giving it a long look, and says, “I’ve been meaning to try this, it’s good.”
“I’m glad,” Ivy says, because he made them both tea with it when she got home, and he’s so damn glad Three was there to suggest it.
-
He sends the email a few days later, before he starts his work day and has finally worked up the courage to hit send, and after the first few deliveries he gets a reply: Sure! Come down whenever, Vess will have time for you. Otherwise the shop’s open late tonight, if you want to come in?
Ivy’s trying not to be easy, trying not to feel like he’s getting swallowed whole. He’s pulled off his gloves to tap at his phone, thinking, before he replies, sure.
-
He doesn’t have very many deliveries today, so his work day ends around four PM, and he spends the last hour of his scheduled driving in the outskirts of the city, where the buildings turn into stretches of farmland, something familiar in it.
The rushing air helps calm his nerves, helps settle the unsure thing in his gut that’s wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He and Branwen were only together for a year, nothing in the vast scale of the universe, but they were so… entwined in one another, even before they properly started dating, that it made it hard to think sometimes. To see the big picture.
It’s almost six by the time he pulls up to Sleep, killing the engine on his bike and taking in a big breath. The ride helped, obviously, since he’s not so keyed up anymore, and when he swings himself off his bike someone yells.
“Oh! Ivy, is that you?” Ivy slides his visor up, and Three’s walking over, a vape stuck between his lips, blowing smoke through his nose. “Nice, how long have you had your bike?”
“Couple years,” Ivy says, finding comfort in it, because he likes his bike, and Aileen found it for him. It’s an EX300, a discontinued line that Kawasaki doesn’t make anymore, and Aileen had a customer come in wanting to sell it off, so she’d called him. “Second hand, but she runs fine.”
Truth is, it’d been in a bit of a bad state when he’d moved to London, and Aileen had chewed his ear off about it for hours while she’d tinkered with it in her own garage, making him hand her things while she worked. Probably for the best that she’s a grease monkey.
“Cool, I know jack-shit about bikes,” Three says, laughing, and sucks on his vape, blowing the sweet-smelling cloud away from Ivy’s face. Ivy admits the same, though he probably has more knowledge than him, and Three’s laughter gets louder, more booming. “Mate, you ride the damn thing! What’s your excuse?”
“My sister does the maintenance,” Ivy says, and finally slips the helmet off, settling it on the bike while he pulls his balaclava over his head, hair sticking up in different directions. He isn’t ashamed about it, Aileen’s always taken care of the family's vehicles, she’s just like that. “Besides, weren’t you the one saying Vessel wouldn't let you get one?”
“Yeah, but I do it mostly to shit talk him, since he’s been talking about getting a bike for like, two years now? I think he just lost track of time.”
Two years? Vessel did mention that he’s known Three for a while, and the shop’s been open for a good four years or so, according to their website.
Ivy takes that in, trying to fit Three into the space in his mind he’s blocked out as Sleep’s Relationship Status, currently: Confusing. He’s pretty sure Two and Vessel are dating, and it seemed like Three was more than a platonic addition, but Ivy’s still a little unsure.
Maybe them being in a polycule will help ease that thing in Ivy that always wants affection, a touch of love, knowing that they’re clearly settled in their dynamic. Doesn’t help that Three’s watching him take off his jacket, and that’s definitely appreciation in the way Three curls his lips around his vape, eyes warm and focused.
“This suits you,” Three says, after exhaling. Ivy makes a questioning noise. “The bike, the look, it suits you.”
“You barely know me.”
Three shrugs, and tucks his vape back in between his lips. He’s smiling, and it makes his blue eyes shine, a little mischievous. “Not yet, but I have the time.”
Oh. Oh, he’s flirting with Ivy.
That’s dangerous.
“I’m gonna go in,” Ivy says, to save face, because Three’s good looking, and Ivy’s the kind that folds to pretty things - people, especially. “Don’t touch my bike.”
Three’s laughter is beautiful as Ivy walks away, holding his helmet and jacket in one arm, and pushes the door open to the sound of buzzing, someone getting a tattoo, and Two comes around the desk when Ivy closes the door.
“Hey! You made it,” Two says, and takes Ivy’s helmet and jacket before Ivy even has the chance to say hello. “Vess’ll be out in a sec, he’s just finishing up.”
“Sure.”
The door opens again, the bell ringing, and Three steps behind the desk, dropping onto Two’s stool and sliding back and forth. “He brought the bike,” he says, giving Two a look.
“Really? No shit,” Two snorts, pointing at Ivy’s helmet and jacket, that he’s put down behind the desk in a cubby. Three makes a face. “Be useful, make tea, tell Vess Ivy’s here.”
“Fine, dear,” Three says sarcastically, but stands up, dipping down to press his face into Two’s hair, before he slides out. “Chamomile, Ivy?”
“Huh?” Ivy asks, because he was staring, watching Two’s face soften as Three breathed him in. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”
Ivy sits down, because he’s starting to feel a little overwhelmed, and like maybe this was a bad idea. He needs to find a shop with less attractive staff, maybe the kind american films portray, a dingy hole in the wall where Ivy can’t get horned up. Jesus Christ.
He has a problem.
And currently the problem is the three guys who work at Sleep , one who owns the goddamn shop, and the pretty manager who keeps looking at Ivy, asking if he needs anything, if he’s eaten. He hasn’t, but Two doesn’t need to know that, not that he’s able to hide it when his stomach makes a gurgling noise.
Two gives him a flat look. “I’m ordering pizza for dinner, anyway, what’re you having?”
“I don’t-”
“Ivy. I’m gonna get too much, you might as well help.”
Well, okay then. “I don’t mind,” Ivy says, and the buzzing in the back of the shop stops, someone saying, cool, you’re done, up ya get, honey. It sounds like Vessel, and maybe hearing him call someone else a pet name actually helps, because it means Ivy’s not all that special.
Ivy zones out, looking at his phone, replying to emails from a few clients asking for deliveries to be done, checking on his family's group chat, and Three comes back with his tea, settling it on the coffee table before walking away again. Aileen sent a picture of his new lip piercing to the group a week ago, and no one’s shut up about it since, especially their mum. Predictably she’s gone apocalyptic, sending a never ending tirade of sad-face emojis and bible verses, shit none of them pay attention to.
“Bye, Shev,” Vessel’s saying, waving someone goodbye, and when they step through the door he locks it behind him. “Hey, Ivy, you ready to talk?”
Ivy swallows, his throat feeling a little dry, and nods. “Yeah, here’s okay?”
“Sure!” Vessel sits down beside him, holding an ipad, and taps it awake. “So, I had a few things in mind, but I wasn’t sure how big the snake was, so…”
Time passes, as Vessel and Ivy quietly discuss the snake. It’s tail is wrapped around Ivy’s throat, a little like a collar, and he hates how it still means so fucking much to him, and that it was the last thing Branwen worked on.
Vessel’s swipes through a few designs, mostly images of a complete snake, done in his own style, of course, and eventually Ivy finds the courage to say, “what about a cover up?”
Vessel’s face tilts up, and maybe his eyes are searching him out, Ivy can’t tell. “I mean, totally, if you’re sure? It has great foundations, but I understand if you need to.”
“Thanks,” Ivy says, breathing out, because yeah, it does, but he… might need it gone, after all. “Actually, yeah, a cover up would work better for me.”
“Sure, whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Ivy sucks in a breath, looking away, and tries to stare at the paint on the walls, the slow gradient from light to dark. It half works, because Vessel’s sketching something out on his tablet, his tongue pressed between his lips, like he’s concentrating. It’s cute.
Ivy’s fucked.
“Pizza’s here!” Three calls, and thumps down on the couch beside Ivy, starting to clear a space on the coffee table. Two puts a few boxes down next, before he sits on the floor, crossing his legs. “Two wasn’t sure what you’d want, so he just got a lot.”
“Shut up, Three,” Two scowls, but his face is flushed, like he’s embarrassed. Of what? “Help yourself, Ivy, Vess is gonna be a while.”
The three of them eat, and at some point Three’s moved close enough to Ivy that their thighs are touching, a burning heat that Ivy can’t help but notice. Good god. Two keeps him distracted, though, asking about him: what’s he do for work, how’d he find out about their shop, does he have other tattoos.
Ivy’s honest when he answers him, because he doesn’t really know them, and what they know can’t hurt him, in the long run. He talks around his pizza, mindful of his lip: “I’m a delivery driver, doing mostly small quick work, like dropping off paperwork for lawyers and contractors. Looked up locals when I moved, found your website in a reddit chain recommending you. Yeah, a few, mostly big work, my… ex did a lot of it.”
“That’s cool,” Three says, and looks at Ivy’s thighs, like he could possibly know where the tattoos are. He’s right, unfortunately, since Ivy has a big one there, a woman’s silhouette surrounded by ivy branches and thorny roses, dotted with a constellation. “You should show me some time.”
“Three,” Vessel hisses, and Three snickers, says, hey, I’m just being nice. “Leave him alone, Jesus.”
“You’re just mad I move faster than you,” Three says, with meaning, and leans over Ivy’s thighs to poke Vessel square in the mask, right above where the third set of eyes sit. “Mister Slowpoke, dumbest pokemon there is.”
“Mate,” Ivy says, a little confused, but mostly- “Leave Slowpoke alone, he didn’t evolve into Slowking and tell Ash how to save the world for nothing.” Three looks at him, before bursting into a fit, giggling. “Also, Paras is right there.”
Three sits up, gasping dramatically, and says, “you take that back! Paras is friend shaped, it’s not his fault his stats suck.”
“It is,” Ivy says, with feeling, because this is important, goddammit. “Why the hell does he show up so much?”
“Children, please,” Two says, sighing explosively, and Three snorts, before laughing into Ivy’s thighs, because he’s still stretched over him. “You’re done, babe?”
“Yeah,” Vessel says, and turns the ipad to show Ivy, Three sitting back up, but still leaning heavily into his side. “What’cha think?”
Ivy takes it in, and when Vessel offers, takes the tablet in his hands, looking down at the sketch. It’s of an octopus, its head sitting over the throat of the sketch model, the tentacles splayed out in a way that would cover up the snake around Ivy’s neck, and a few of them dip down along the collar. It’s a rough sketch, none of the lines neat, but the idea is solid.
What did Vessel say? A good foundation.
That, and it looks nothing like Branwen’s style, so that’ll help.
“I think we should do colour,” Vessel says, and takes the tablet back, biting his lip, almost like he’s nervous. “Something like the walls, a gradient, to cover up most of the ink.”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, a little floored, because they couldn’t have been talking for more than ten minutes, and this man just designed the fuck out of this. “I mean, whatever you say, you’re the professional here.”
Vessel… does the strangest thing, his mouth opening, a little colour rising up his neck. He’s in a singlet again, this one a light grey, so Ivy can kind of see the shapes of tattoos along his chest. Two makes a face, one Ivy can’t read, and says, “eat, Vess.”
“Oh,” Vessel says, and grabs a piece of pizza, but when he bumps the slice against the edge of his mask he makes a sound, a little annoyed. “Fuckin- forgot, be back soon.” Then he grabs a few more slices, standing up and leaving the tablet behind, before he walks down the hall, out of view.
“I can leave,” Ivy says, feeling a little put out, because it’s Vessel’s shop, he should be able to take his mask off when he wants. “I don’t mind.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” Two says quietly, and urges Ivy to take another piece. Ivy does.
Three, though, is back to being interested in his tattoos, and pokes at one on the inside of his wrist. “What’s this?”
“My little sister's birthdays,” Ivy says, turning it up so Three can see it better. They’re stacked on top of one another, both written in roman numerals, Ails’ and Dairs’ month-date-and-years of birth, and Three runs a finger over the ink, humming. “I have the twins on my other wrist.”
“Twins?”
“Yeah, there’s five of us,” Ivy says, and Three sits back so Ivy can pull his other sleeve down a little, showing him. Across from them Two chokes on a cough. “What?”
“Please tell me your parents did not name you all after numbers,” he says, so serious, that Ivy can’t help it when his face flushes, his cheeks hot. “No way! But there’s five of you? What happened with the twins?”
Two had been looking at the roman numerals, and clearly clocked the fact that the twins birth dates are the latest. Ivy sighs, rubs a hand over his eyes as he laughs. “They’re both named one.” And it’s funny, it’s always been funny, but Ivy’s getting a kick out of Two and Three both staring at him, mouths open, clearly incredulous. “I know, right? They wanted four kids, and absolutely cast a curse when they named me first.”
“That’s incredible,” Two says, snickering as he tries to eat his pizza, and Ivy nods, says, try telling them that. Two drops his slice, falling back as he laughs.
It’s a nice sound.
Ivy’s gonna have to forget it, before he gets attached.
-
It’s a pleasant night, and an hour later Vessel’s waving him goodbye, watching Ivy swing himself on his bike from the sidewalk.
“It is a nice bike, Three wasn’t lying,” Vessel says, and he might be appreciating the way Ivy settles into his seat. Half hopes he is, if only so Ivy can remember what it’s like to feel it - appreciated, that is. “Maybe you should take me for a ride, some time.”
Ivy blinks, already wearing his helmet, and he’s so fucking grateful that Vessel can’t see the way his face heats up. “Weren’t you just telling Three to leave me alone?”
Vessel shrugs, crossing his arms, and now that the visor’s down Ivy takes the chance to watch Vessel’s arms flex, the muscles bunching. He has a shark on his right forearm, and a squid and nautilus on the other arm. They’re nice, very… him.
“He can get carried away,” Vessel says, and Ivy blinks at him, focusing. Shit, right. “Give me your number.”
“Huh?”
“So I don’t have to keep emailing you,” Vessel says, and Ivy breathes in, and hates that he’s a little sad, deflated. Vessel slides his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen before handing it to Ivy. Ivy adds his number, before handing it back and sliding his gloves on. Vessel’s… staring. “I’ll text you when I’ve added colour.”
“Sure.”
But now Ivy feels stuck, like maybe something important just passed between them. Decides he’s reading into it, because Ivy’s stupid lizard brain associates any body mod shop with the hot heat of arousal, the stink of sex and antiseptic. He turns the engine on his bike, just to have something to do.
And Vessel’s still standing there. Watching him.
“Goodnight, Ivy,” Vessel finally says, like he’s broken the spell, and Ivy feels like he can move again, thank fuck. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, and finally tucks the kick stand up. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
-
Ails is lying on the couch when Ivy gets back to the flat, throwing his jacket over the coat hanger in the hallway and putting his helmet on the narrow side table, and she calls out, says, “dinner’s in the fridge! I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”
“Already ate,” Ivy says, passing through the lounge to get to his room, and cringes when he realises what he said. Ails is sitting up, staring at him. “I mean. Uh, thanks.”
“You did?” Aileen asks, pausing her show to give Ivy all her attention. And it’s Ails, she knows Ivy the best, since they’re only a year apart in age - it was always the two of them against the world. Ivy sits down on the couch, and Aileen immediately moves closer, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, after a beat. Truth is, aside from her, Ivy doesn’t really know anyone in London. It was half the reason he fucking moved, since Branwen took the friend group in the break up. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Who’d you eat with?”
“The guys from Sleep, I was there for the consult,” he’s told her about it, already, texting that he’d be back late because of it. Ivy sucks in a breath, Aileen squeezing his hand again. “I’m getting it covered up.”
Aileen lets out a breath, with Ivy, and softly says, “that’s a great idea, Ivy. I know… how hard that would’ve been to decide.” She leans her head on Ivy’s shoulder, and Ivy relaxes, letting himself be cared for. “They invited you to dinner?”
“I didn’t get a chance to say no,” Ivy snorts, and Aileen returns the gesture, snickering against him. “It was good, though, nice. To feel. Yanno.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Aileen doesn’t speak for a bit, and Ivy doesn’t, either. They’ve always been better at the quiet communication: a head tilt or flash of eyes, a quirked mouth or eyebrow, reading each other's body language with full understanding. Ails lets out a breath, sighing deeply, and says, “if you end up fucking one of them, can you do it at their place? I don’t wanna hear my big brother getting of-”
“Ails,” Ivy cries, shoving her to the other end of the couch, face dark red while Aileen laughs, kicking at his arms when he tries to tickle her feet. “I’m not! Oh my god!”
“I’m just preparing for the future,” she laughs, and starts screaming when Ivy manages to capture one of her feet. “Stop! I don’t wanna know what you sound like getting fuc-”
“I’m not gonna fuck them!”
-
Sometimes being the oldest of five kids has its benefits. Most of Ivy’s clothes were brand new, the same with Aileen, and the others got their hand-me-downs. It also meant he was the one left in charge, when their parents were out, so a little power went to Ivy’s head.
The down side, of course, is that all his siblings are little assholes, and he loves them, but sometimes he wants to push Aileen out the window just for the cheek of being related. She’s been such a nuisance about the guys from Sleep, especially when he lets slip how attractive they all are; what Vessel’s mask looks like.
“You are so easy,” Ails laughs, shoving his shoulder, before she passes Ivy the joint. “Why’d you go to a place if you knew the owner wears a mask? You know you like that shit!” Ivy groans into his hand, the one not holding the blunt, because he has to stop telling his sister personal things about himself, because she uses it like this, the fucker. “You need to get laid by like, the most boring person in the world.”
“I am not,” Ivy snaps, and takes a big hit, holding the smoke in his chest before exhaling, passing it back. “And you’re probably right. Maybe I should just download tinder, the fuck.”
“Please download grindr,” she says, gasping dramatically. “Stay away from girls for a bit, we’re all manipulative bitches.”
“Oh my god, okay.”
It’s why he’s standing in a club, waiting at the bar for his grindr date to show up. Sometimes Aileen’s right, and it fucking sucks, because that means Ivy’s definitely in her debt for something, and it usually means driving to dumbfuck nowhere to pick up a spare part.
Tony shows up five minutes later, some business guy that looks like the clients Ivy takes, and that means he’s safe. Definitely not Ivy’s usual type, but he’s trying to clear his head, to fuck it out of his system.
He’s pretty enough, a sharp square face that does do it for Ivy, and he’s taller, too. Wide shouldered, trim waist, and he’s wearing a well-fitted suit, probably custom. Ivy lets himself be pulled into his charisma, laughing quietly between the two of them over a couple of whiskeys, before Tony shoves his face in between Ivy’s neck and shoulder, whispering, we should get out of here.
“Yeah,” Ivy says, just as quiet, and sucks in a breath when Tony nips at the delicate skin on his throat, right where the tail of the snake ends. It makes heat rush through his body. “Bathroom, then we’ll leave.”
“Okay,” Tony says, letting him go, and Ivy hadn’t realised how close they were, how Ivy had been practically climbing into his lap. Jesus, maybe he is this easy.
What a fucking shame, then, that he bumps into Two on the way to the bathroom, the shorter man blinking up at him, before he smiles. Ivy definitely doesn’t gulp.
“Hey,” he says, and Ivy looks around, searching for the others. “Three’s at a booth, you here by yourself?”
“Just ‘bout to leave,” Ivy says quickly, and when he looks back at the bar, Tony’s watching him, eyes hot. “Date.”
“Oh, really?” Two says quietly, and Ivy would’ve missed it, if he wasn’t paying such close attention. He looks a little sad, his eyes a little dim. “I won’t keep you, bye, Ivy.”
“Bye, Two.”
Ivy takes the quickest piss of his life, not even bothering to properly dry his hands before he’s stepping back out of the bathroom, rushing to grab Tony’s hand and get out. He thinks he sees Two and Three notice him, because he notices them, and he definitely doesn’t duck, avoiding their eyes.
-
Tony’s a fine lay, all things considered. Lasts long enough for Ivy to get off, before he comes in his ass, moaning around a mouthful of his shoulder.
Then Ivy calls an uber, grabs his shit, and gets the fuck out of there while Tony’s showering. He’d spent the entire time they were fucking thinking of Two’s arms, Three’s long legs, the curve of Vessel’s mouth, smiling at him with all his teeth.
At least it wasn’t Bran that he was thinking of, while Tony fucked into him. That’s a small blessing, but-
Fucking hell. This was supposed to get it out of his system, make him think about someone other than the three guys he’s met less than a handful of times.
It does not work.
-
Ivy gets a text from an unknown number a couple days later, after he’s finished delivering a packet of paperwork to some business, that just says, hey its vess. think i finished the design, wanna take a look?
Attached is a picture of the sketch, outlined in fine black lines and coloured a deep blue at the head, before it fades into a peachy-pink at the tips of the tentacles, flecks of green introduced in odd places. It’s fucking cool, and Ivy says so, typing back quickly.
cool, the replies starts, and Ivy kicks his stand down so he can rest. glad u like it. iii wants ur number, can i give it to him?
Ivy… takes a moment, thinking. Types back, sure. A second later Vessel replies with a thumbs up emoji, making Ivy snort, and then another unknown number messages him.
hiiiiiiiiiiii ivyyyyyy!!! the text reads, and Ivy stares at his phone for a bit, processing. Good god. wanna be my test bunny??? v says i can start tattooing people now ehe
i thought u werent apprenticing under him, Ivy texts, after he saves both of their numbers. isnt that like a breach of ethics
u think tattoo places have ethics??? thats cute lol, Three replies, and Ivy snorts, ‘cause yeah, he doesn’t have the best track record on that front. nah thoms cool w it anyway wanna let me stab u
It’s an innocent enough question, and Ivy’s interacted with enough apprentices to read it as that. sure, he types back. when?
hmmmmm this sat? apprentices prices ofc i’ll send u my flash sheet
It’s a Tuesday, and Ivy has enough extra savings that he could drop money on a big piece, if he wanted. He has the spare cash. He looks over the sheet, before picking a number and sending it back; it’s of a stylised cat’s face, outlined with vines of ivy, a swirling galaxy made of up blacks and greys and whites in the cat's eyes. Three sends him a thumbs up.
cool, book me in, Ivy replies, biting his lip. u can give ii my number if u want.
nice he was just askin lmao, Three replies, then before Ivy can type back, sends through: 11 work? i can come in earlier if u want we live upstairs lol
Oh. They… live together. That’s.
That’s interesting.
Ivy doesn’t reply with words, just sending a thumbs up, because he feels like his chest is too tight, his ribs squeezing. He shoves his phone into his inner pocket, pulling on his gloves before he can do something stupid - like ask if Three’s hitting on him, if Vessel was doing the same the other night - and kicks his stand up, before pulling out into traffic.
He doesn’t check his phone again until he finishes his shift, because his work phone always sits in his most accessible pocket, easier to keep his personal and professional life separate if he has different ones. He’s just pulling it out to check if Aileen wants anything for dinner, when he sees a few texts from an unknown number.
hey its ii, the texts start, iii’s booked u in for this sat
Another one reads: was wondering if u wanted to get drinks after work? my shout
no pressure. lemme know
Ivy checks the time the last text was sent, and breathes out a little hard. It was sent over an hour ago, and while Ivy is tired, he can’t… get the idea of these three guys out of his head. Can’t help but remember the dim look in Two’s eyes, when he’d said he was on a date with Tony.
hey i just finished that sounds cool, Ivy sends before his nerves betray him, feeling adrenaline pumping his courage along. just gonna check if my sis needs anything. where should i meet u?
The reply comes quicker than Ivy expects, almost like Two was waiting on him. For him. It messes up the wires in his head, his want licking up his sweaty spine. Man, he should take a shower.
ok!! cool! meet me at the shop and we can get drinks at my local, Two says, and another message comes through a second later: iii wants to come want me to tell him to fuck off? lol
Actually. Actually, having Three there might help, might make Ivy feel less like he’s on a date with a committed guy, even if Two clearly has two of the tallest fuckers in London in his back pocket, so Ivy can’t see why he’d be interested in him. yeh he can come, he replies instead, and Ails replies next, her text reading, nah im good ty tho im spending the nite at nats
Natalie is Aileen’s girlfriend, and it’s always been funny to the both of them, that they’re the classic queer black sheeps of the family, not that anyone aside from their mum really cares.
cool im going out for drinks w two, Ivy replies, and Aileen replies to his message with a bombardment of kissing gifs and heart emojis, the little bitch. Ivy scowls while he types: im not gonna sleep with him omfg hes literally bringing his bfs
oMG maybe they wanna bring u in as their fourth wouldnt that be so funny???? Ivy glares at his phone screen, even as his face gets overly warm. lol mum would be SO pissed imagine it ‘heres my heathen son and his devil worshipping bfs’ LMAOOOOO
fuck u, Ivy replies, slamming his visor down and cringing. Ugh, little sisters, the worst.
ly2, Aileen replies, with a heart emoji, and Ivy returns the sentiment, because she’s his only friend in London, and she’s actually being really chill about this. Ivy doesn’t think Dair or the twins would be this understanding.
cool omw, Ivy sends to Two instead, and gets a thumbs up emoji in response. He rides off.
-
Three’s waiting for him when he pulls up, smoking from a different coloured vape - and holy fuck, but Ivy remembers that - and grins with all his teeth when Ivy kills his engine. “It really does suit you,” Three says, waltzing over with all the grace of an elegant horse. “The helmet especially, hmm, nice.”
“Mate,” Ivy says, exasperated, because while he might be a little thick, Three is definitely flirting with him. “Save it for your boys.”
“What? I’m allowed to look,” Three says, throwing his hands up, leaving the vape pressed between his lips. His eyes are warm when he adds, “especially when it's such a pretty package.”
Ivy’s so goddamn grateful for the balaclava, because it saves him from Three seeing the horrible blush spreading up his neck, making his ears and cheeks hot. “I should’ve told Two to leave you home,” he says instead, and he’s still scowling when he pulls the balaclava off. “Where is he?”
“Inside, bring your stuff,” Three says, and Ivy follows, because he can, now that Three isn’t looking at him. He drops his jacket and helmet onto one of the couches, and now that he’s looking the blinds have been pulled closed, making the reception area of Sleep more intimate. “Ivy’s here! Ready?”
“Yeah!” comes a shout from down the hall, and a second later Two steps out, wearing jeans and a hoodie. Thank fuck, it means Ivy won’t stand out wherever they go. “Vess is just washing his face.”
Ivy blinks, and he’s gonna blame the helmet and mask for how warm his face is. “He’s coming?”
“Yeah, wanted to when I told him you were,” Two says, casual as can be, not at all like that’s making Ivy’s gut twist nervously. “You good? I didn’t ask, and he won’t mind staying home.”
“No, it’s fine,” Ivy says, maybe a little too quickly, and Two and Three share a look, something Ivy can’t read. Good god. Thankfully he’s saved from saying anything else, something incriminating, when Vessel steps out of the hall.
Ivy stares.
He kind of expected, with the mask and all, that maybe Vessel had some insane facial scarring, maybe something he’s ashamed of - not that Ivy thinks that’s something anyone should do. But when Ivy looks at him all he sees is a regular guy. Attractive, of course, and that’s so fucking typical, with long eyebrows and a soft jaw, full lips and smile lines.
He also has the bluest fucking eyes Ivy’s ever seen, surrounded by soft blonde eyelashes. Jesus.
“Hey!” Vessel says, coming over to pat Ivy on the shoulder, before leaving his hand there, and his smile is familiar enough, something Ivy’s seen a lot of. He’s in a denim jacket, and thank god for that, because it means Ivy won’t look at his arms. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, swallowing for a second, and Vessel grins at him, with all his teeth. It reaches his eyes, making them shine a little, his crows feet bunching. It’s cute.
Oh god.
He’s fucked.
-
The bar they go to is nice, clearly a hole in the wall place that got big, with its cramped and intimate spaces, dim lighting and leather seating. It must be their uni night, because all the people - aside from them, and maybe a handful of others - are students, and it eases some of the tension in Ivy’s body.
This isn’t a date.
He thinks.
They’re on round two, and Ivy’s sitting next to Three, who gets really handsy when he’s had a couple, petting at Ivy’s thigh, knocking their shoulders together, leaving his hand on his knee.
Maybe Three isn’t in a relationship with Two and Vessel? It’s hard to tell, without just… asking it, and Ivy’s choosing not to dwell on that.
Helps, when Two looks across the booth after coming back with their third round, and asks, “so how long have you been in London?”
“You can tell I just moved?” Ivy asks, genuinely curious, and Two snorts into his drink.
“Nah, you mentioned it, last time? You were looking for a new local.”
“Oh,” Ivy says, feeling a little dumb, because yeah, he had. “Yeah. I. Was in the market, I guess?”
Three giggles, leaning heavily into Ivy’s side, gently bumping their heads together. “You’re so funny,” Three whispers, and he must be tipsy, the light-weight. “Two, tell him he’s funny.”
“Leave him alone, Three,” Vessel says, and grabs a hold of his jacket, pulling under Three flops onto him instead. “Sorry, Ivy. Why not go back to your last place?”
Truth is, Ivy probably can’t, not anymore. Half his friends - ex-friends, he guesses - work there with Branwen, and while he doesn’t have bad blood with any of them, he knows how manipulative Bran could be, how she could get her way with a smile and a sharp needle.
That, and he’s tried really hard not to look Vessel in the face all evening, because he’s attractive and it’s distracting. At least he’s desensitised himself to Three and Two, who are just as handsome.
“My ex works there,” he says instead of any of that, because it still feels fresh, despite the fact they’ve been broken up for almost eight months now. “Ails was the one who said I should move, and. Yeah. That’s that.”
Vessel makes a face, like he’s upset, upset for Ivy, and nods. “Yeah, that’s fair. I get it. Honestly, it’s half the reason we opened Sleep in the first place.” Ivy raises both eyebrows, curious. “My ex-girlfriends used to run the place where I apprenticed, and after we fell out they started shit talking me everywhere.” Oh, that sucks. Ivy says so, and Three and Two snort, like they’re agreeing. “Yeah, it’s kinda why I wear the mask, to prove a point.”
“To prove a point?” Ivy asks, cocking his head, and Vessel bites his lip, like he’s thinking, and Ivy hates that it just makes him look hotter, a little dangerous. Fuckssake.
“That I could get asses in seats without my looks,” Vessel says, honest and sure, and smirks when Ivy makes a face. “So far it’s worked out in my favour, and we’ve had the shop open for almost five years now.”
“Wow,” Ivy says, taking the last pull from his pint, and makes an agreeable face. “Spite is the best revenge.”
“No kidding.” Vessel snorts, and now that Ivy’s three drinks in he feels safer, about staring at Vessel’s bare face, at the way his eyes get soft when Three makes a noise against his shoulder. “C’mon, your round, you lost the bet.”
“Ugh,” Three says with feeling, scrubbing his face into Vessel's denim jacket. “Fine, Ivy, shuffle your cute ass over, please.” Ivy does, even taking Three’s hand to help him up when Ivy steps out of the booth. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, blushing, and Three grins down at him. “Shut up, go away, oh my god.” Three’s still laughing as he pushes through the crowd, fighting his way to the bar, and Ivy settles back into the booth, shuffling closer to Vessel this time, so he doesn’t have to stand up again. “A bet?”
“Hm? Oh,” Vessel’s face heats up, his cheeks blotchy and red, and the colour spreads up to his ears. It’s cute. “He bet that Two wouldn’t be able to get you to come to drinks tonight.” Then Vessel smiles, his sharp canines on full display, the cheeky look warm in his blue eyes. “Clearly, he lost.”
Ivy feels pinned to the spot, especially when Two turns the same look on him, smirking as he says, “I didn’t even have to beg.”
“You would’ve?” Ivy asks carefully, because he has to know, and oh god, he’s getting a little hard. “Begged, I mean.”
“I’ve done worse for less,” Two says, so serious, like he’s trying to say something else. Something Ivy doesn’t understand. He shares a look with Vessel, something passing between them that Ivy’s not privy to, before he adds, “besides, it’s worth it.”
-
Ivy is properly loose-limbed by the time Two gets round five, and he knows he’s tipsy as hell, leaning against Vessel’s side. Vessel doesn’t even mind, shuffling himself so Ivy’s more comfortable, throwing an arm around his shoulders to hold him. Ivy’s always been the tactile type, reaching out for a soft touch, tangling his fingers with his siblings, leaning over his sisters backs, like overgrown moss on a rocky shore.
Ivy sighs, says, “this is nice. You’re like, the only people besides my sister that I really know in London.”
“Why’d you move here, then?” Three asks, on Ivy’s other side, face red and pupils blown. He’s drinking water now, after Two insisted.
Ivy hums, thinking, then says, “Bran got all the friends in the break up, and Ails thought it’d be a clean slate, let me start over in another place,” breathes out, and Vessel tenses for a second, before he relaxes, his thumb rubbing at the cotton on Ivy’s shirt. It’s good. “She’s right, don’t tell her though, it’ll go to her fuckin’ head,” Ivy snorts, and Vessel chuckles, jostling him. “But it meant I got to come to your shop, so.”
“Yeah,” Vessel says quietly, and when Ivy turns to blink at him his eyes are focused, not nearly as cloudy as Three’s. “Is Bran the one who did… all your work?”
“Some of it, yeah,” Ivy says, and taps his nose, the snake on his neck. “But the others were done by my… friends, at the time, she’s just. The one I fell in with, I guess.” Shrugs, because Three’s making a face, a little sad. “It’s fine! I’m okay, I mean. London’s different, but I can work from anywhere.”
“Reckon you’d get the others covered up?” Two asks, genuinely curious, and Ivy hums, before shaking his head. “Just the neck one, then?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, because he did think about it, when he wasn’t getting replies from the people he thought cared about him, looking down at the matching silhouette tattoos on his thighs. He’d decided, in the end, that it wasn’t worth the money to get it done, and most of them hold special memories, ones strong enough to outweigh the bad - that, and he can’t imagine covering up the twins, they’re his babies. “We broke up before she could finish it.”
Two’s looking at him, mouth pressed and eyes turned down, and says, “mate, that’s rough. Shots?”
“Please,” Ivy almost begs, and Vessel laughs, shaking him with it. “Good grief, I should tell you ‘bout this one time, when she was piercing my nipples, and-”
“After our shots,” Two says, laughing, and reaches out a hand to pat the top of Ivy’s, keeping his fingers there, the touch warm and special; makes Ivy’s heart beat double time. “At least let me get tipsy before you spill the beans, damn.”
“Good point,” Ivy says, giving Two a finger gun, and Three’s laughing now, falling on his shoulder. “Really, it’s a terrible story, but it’s so funny.”
Two walks away then, and Ivy lets himself appreciate his narrow waist, the soft sway in his hips as he steps through the crowd. And when he turns to Three, he’s watching him watch Two, and he feels caught, a deer in the headlights.
“Don’t worry, m’not mad,” Three says quietly, and bops him on the nose with a soft finger. “He’s got a nice ass, I get it.”
“Oh my god,” Ivy says, mortified, and rubs his face with both hands. Vessel’s laughing beside him. “I’m. I’m not looking at your boyfriend’s- holy shit.”
“It’s fine, Ivy,” Vessel says, shaking his arm, and when Ivy drops his hands to cringe at Vessel the other man’s smiling. “Three’s right, he’s got a nice ass.” Then he smirks, lips curling. “Your nipples are pierced?”
“Yes,” Ivy squeaks out, embarrassed as all hell, and Two comes back to the table with a tray of shots, about ten in total. “I mean, just one, now, ‘cause-” grabs one of the amber shots, before anyone can ask him another question, shooting back straight tequila without realising. “Fucking hell.”
When he sits back up he’s against Vessel’s side, though, and his body is so fucking warm, Ivy’s warm, his thick denim jeans not helping. Vessel’s nose bumps against the side of Ivy’s temple, and he whispers, “you should show me some time.”
Ivy actually jumps, smacking into Three, who catches him with a laugh. “Jesus Christ,” Ivy gasps, and Two slaps Vessel’s shoulder with a scowl, and the taller man has the decency to look a little ashamed.
“Fuck off!” Two snaps, and finally, someone’s on Ivy’s side. Then he ruins it by asking, “so what did your ex do while she pierced your nipples?”
No amount of groaning can stop the way Ivy’s face bursts into flame, his ears and cheeks hot, his chest and back sweating. He can barely cover his eyes, grimacing to himself, because he walked right into that one.
“She- we were,” Ivy huffs, speaking into his hands, and Three nudges him with an elbow to the side, a soft touch that’s all affection, no rush. Ivy takes a deep breath, sitting up straight; there’s… so much history between him and Bran, and while it’s not the greatest story, probably sad as fuck all things considered, Ivy likes these guys. Trusts them a little, especially after Vessel told him about his own shop-related issues.
It’s probably liquid courage. Ivy takes the leap, anyway.
“Okay. There’s gonna need to be some backstory, just so I don’t sound like a complete degenerate.” Ivy starts carefully, and Three slots a shot into his hand. Ivy takes it, head hitting the booth as he tips it back, swallowing straight vodka. Blegh. “So, Bran and I…”
It’s a rough tale. He and Bran had orbited each other for years, long before the Bristol shop opened, and he’d let her practise piercing and tattooing on him, because he’d been head over heels for the fucking woman, and she’d deigned to give him a smile. He hadn’t known, at the time, how cruel she could be, how easily she could manipulate Ivy in her hands, like putty, like a plaything.
Then she’d introduced fucking him while she worked, sitting on his lap, cock hot in her cunt, while she pushed the needle through his flesh. Ivy remembers the high, the adrenaline that was only a step above messing around in his bike gear with strangers or smoking a bowl with his friends, and how much it had consumed him, body and soul. How Ivy started craving it, to the point where he couldn’t sit still for anyone else, without getting hard and panting, desperate for a taste.
Ivy knows, in retrospect, that what Bran was doing was wrong, all kinds of fucked up, not to mention unhygienic as all hell. But she’d been his whole world, for those years they knew each other, and his entire universe when they’d started dating.
He’s glad that in the end they’d gone in different directions, because Ivy’s not so sure he’d be a complete person, if he’d stuck around. He’s grateful that Ails dragged him to London, even if he’d been kicking and screaming at the time, because it was the right call, and Aileen only cared about Ivy at the end of the day, so Bran could get fucked, for all she cared.
There’s silence, as Ivy describes the nipple piercing, about a dare he’d lost - on purpose, to be honest, a stupid dare that Ivy doesn’t even properly remember - that led to Ivy in the hospital, because Bran had missed the first few times, the both of them high as all shit as she pushed the needle into his skin. It’s not a funny story, he realises in hindsight, even though it was the funniest thing to ever happy to Ivy at the time, considering the fucked up shit he used to get up to.
It’s not as much of a joke, when Ivy’s laid out all the things that came before the incident, all the history and background knowledge. Ivy’s aware enough now, in the present, to know that Branwen really messed him up.
His left nipples absolutely fucked, but his right ones just fine, and Bran had done it neatly the next week, the both of them fully clothed and Branwen in nitrile gloves. Like she was trying to apologise, by doing it right.
Like she ever would.
“Ivy,” Vessel says, quietly, and Ivy’s blinks when Three curves his hand against his face, thumb rubbing his cheeks. He’s fucking crying, the hell. “That. Fucking sucks, what the hell, man.”
“I know,” Ivy says, breath shuddering out of him, and laughs, because it is. Dumb as all hell, and Ivy’s the clown at the centre of the fucked up circus. “I know. I just. It’s all I knew, yanno? For the longest time.”
But Vessel’s looking at him, really looking at him, his eyes sad and misty, his mouth turned down at the corners. It sucks that he’s so handsome, despite his sad expression.
“Come home with us,” Vessel says, and takes the last shot on Two’s tray - the other two have been slowly working through them - and downs it. Ivy blinks at him, unsure, because he just laid out a lot of shit about his life, and the idea of falling into a similar trap, with another artist and piercer, for God's sake, isn’t that appealing, even if the package is nice to look at. Vessel makes a face, wincing. “Not to- Jesus, no, just. Come home with us, watch a movie, stay the night. You’re too out of it to be driving, anyway.”
“I mean,” Ivy starts, and pats his pocket, until he finds his phone. Pulls it out and checks the time, 9:07 PM. It’s still early, and Ails isn’t going to be home, anyway. She knows where he is. “I, don’t-” Ivy shuts up his mouth, teeth clicking.
What’s Ivy got to lose, though? He already stepped off the edge, and Ivy’s surprised to find himself hoping that these men will catch him, before he hits the bottom. And all three of them are looking at him, the same hopeful flash in their eyes, like they’re waiting on Ivy’s word.
Three’s hand’s still on his face, thumb rubbing under his stinging eye. Vessel’s palm is warm on his knee, where he’d put it at some point while Ivy was talking. And Two’s feet are kicking at his under the table, staring at him with an open expression - all of them so damn tactile and touchy. It’s nice.
So why not?
“Okay.”
-
Vessel and Three walk on either side of Ivy, keeping him bracketed between them, quietly asking him questions. What are his siblings like? Annoying, but they’re mine, so. Where’d you grow up? Outside Bristol. Do you make your own schedule? Yeah, I work for myself, so it’s easy. How long have you been riding?
“Seven years? I lost count,” Ivy says, following Two into the shop when he unlocks the door, and gives a dazed look at his bike on the street. He should probably move it, says so, when Three cocks an eyebrow at him, before following his line of sight.
“It’ll be fine,” Three says, but he’s keeping the door open, likely waiting for Ivy to agree. “Or, we can take it out back? If you want.”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, because he needs to be able to control something, since his life is a massive joke to the gods. “I’d. Feel better about that.”
“I’ll do it,” Vessel says, and digs into Ivy’s jacket pocket, still on the couch in the reception area. “You don’t mind, Ivy?”
Nah, he doesn’t, and he’s definitely tipsier than he thought, because he makes an aborted motion to follow Vessel as he locks the door behind himself. Vessel walks over to Ivy’s bike and throws his long leg over the seat, before settling down. Turns the engine, and Ivy swallows, watching him slowly ride it to the mouth of the alleyway, before Vessel disappears down the side of the shop, confident and steady.
“Jesus,” Ivy breathes out, sweating, and when Three looks at him he’s smirking, the fucker. “I… didn’t think. You said he was in the market for a bike?” How long has Vessel been able to ride?
“A while, he’s just indecisive about what he wants to get,” Two says, and grabs Ivy’s hand, starting to drag him down the hall. Shit, he said that last part out loud, oops. “C’mon, we live upstairs, let’s go.”
The change from shop floor to apartment is gradual, and Ivy’s never noticed the door beside the bathroom that opens to a set of stairs, and Ivy follows Two up the steps, desperately trying not to stare at his ass. He’s losing, and behind him Three jabs him in the butt, giggling when Ivy throws him an accusatory stare.
“You’ve got a nice ass, let me appreciate it,” Three says, cheeky and obvious, and good god, have they all been flirting with him? “Yeah, we weren’t being very subtle, yanno.”
Fuck. Ivy needs to learn to keep his mouth closed.
“Take your boots off, if you want,” Two says when they reach an open landing, and Ivy looks around, taking it in. The steps lead to a big open area, a kitchen with a breakfast bar on one end of the room, two comfortable looking couches and a TV on the other. There’s a drum kit in the corner, huh. “Water?”
“Please,” Ivy begs, for the second time that night, and grabs a hold of the railing to start unzipping his boots. Manages one, before he almost falls down the stairs.
“Here,” Three says, kneeling down to grab Ivy’s leg, and Ivy sets his hand on his shoulder, balancing himself as Three helps him step out of his boot. Three unzips the other one, before helping Ivy out of it again. “Better?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, a little breathless, and Three hasn’t moved, still sitting on his knees in front of him, staring. Does Vessel only date people with the same flavour of blue eyes? Jesus. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing, darlin’,” Three smiles, coy as shit, and it’s been a long night, so Ivy can be forgiven for shoving his hand in Three’s face and pushing him away. “Awh! And after I was so nice to you!”
“That was you being nice?” Ivy snorts, and stumbles his way to one of the couches, falling into it in a full body sprawl. “Fuckin’ hell, I should’ve eaten, why the fuck am I this cooked?”
Two, his eternal saviour, comes over with a glass of water and a bowl of pretzels, settling down beside him once Ivy manages to sit up. “Why didn’t you say you hadn’t eaten? I would’ve grabbed you something at the bar.”
“I forgot,” Ivy says, honest, and takes a big gulp of water, before shoving a few pretzels into his mouth. Swallows, before he adds, “I lost track of time.”
Two makes a face, putting the pretzels in Ivy’s lap and pulling out his phone. “I’m getting you pizza,” he says, with conviction, and Ivy groans, telling him it’s fine. “Ivy! I wouldn’t have suggested shots if I knew!”
“Really, I’m okay,” Ivy says, a bit wobbly, and knows his smile is sloppy when Two gives him a look . “Just gimme like, bread, or something, that’ll be enough.”
“... Fine,” Two says after a beat, his eyes narrowed. Then he sets two fingers against Ivy’s shoulder, shoving gently. “But I’m making you a sandwich, at least. What don’t you eat?”
“Me? I eat anything.”
“Mhm, that’s good, makes my job easy,” Two hums, and stands up, walking back to the kitchen. Ivy turns to his bowl, slowly working his way through the salted pretzels, and a second later Three drops down beside him, throwing a hand into the bowl, and Ivy scowls, pulling them away
“At least share,” Three says, and grabs the remote on the coffee table, turning the TV on. “Pick a genre.”
Ivy doesn’t think before saying, “horror.”
“Hoping to get cuddled on a couch?” Three asks, cheeky as hell, grinning at him. Ivy rolls his eyes, and tries to snatch the remote. “Nope! You picked genre, I’m picking movie, boo hoo.”
“At least pick something good,” Two says with feeling, and grabs the bowl from Ivy’s lap and replaces it with a plate, two sandwiches stacked on it. Two points at it, and firmly says, “eat.”
Ivy does.
Eventually Vessel comes up the stairs, his footsteps subtle, and the lights dim as he walks into the lounge, settling onto the couch beside Two and tossing Ivy’s keys onto the coffee table.
“You’re parked in our garage,” Vessel says, and shuffles until he’s comfortable, not that Ivy’s watching. “Oh! Go back, play Repo.”
“Again?” Three asks with a sigh, and that’s rude, because Repo’s awesome. “He means the opera.”
“Did I stutter?” Ivy asks around his mouthful of sandwich, and it’s really good, something heavy in his gut to soak up all the alcohol. Three makes a face, so Ivy adds, “Sarah Brightman’s in it, man, she’s like, the best Christine, aside from Sierra Boggess.”
“Thank you!” Vessel yells, hands up in the air. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get them to watch the Royal Albert Hall performances? It’s my one mission in life, god help me.”
“God help me, there’s two of you!” Three yells back, just as exasperated, and Ivy laughs, almost dropping his last sandwich. “Look! You’re making him drop his food!” That just makes Ivy laugh harder, and now Two’s laughing, and he has to put his plate on the coffee table, holding his stomach, feeling a touch lightheaded with his breathlessness. “Jesus Christ! Fine! I’ll play Repo!”
When Ivy finally calms down, he stares at Vessel for a moment, Two snickering to himself as he settles in, and Vessel ruins the peace by saying, “Ramin Karimloo is a great Phantom, but I think I’ll never get over Antonio Banderas singing Phantom of the Opera with Sarah Brightman.”
“I know right?” Ivy says, just as excited, and Three groans, falling over Ivy dramatically, arms everywhere. “Ugh! Three! Move, man, I finally have someone to talk to about all of this, I have opinions!”
“Save your opinions for tomorrow,” Three scowls, and yanks on something on the back of the couch, a blanket falling over them. Two’s trying to stifle his laughter in his fist, but it reaches his eyes, and Ivy smiles at him. He’s so fucking cute. “Come here, cuddle me, I’m cold.”
“You are not,” Ivy says, finishing his sandwich, because he can feel Three’s skin, all goosebumps and pebbled, a little warm. But decides he wants to, shoving his way against Three’s chest, turning so he’s in the cradle of his legs. It’s nice, especially when Three drags the blanket over the two of them, arms coming up to hold him closer. “Okay, okay, movie, shut up, my husbands coming.”
“Your husband?” Three asks, just as Terrance Zdunic sings, out from the night. “Really? I took you for a Pavi guy.”
“I am,” Ivy says, because he’s not stupid, he has eyes. “I can have dimension. Besides, I always ended up with the Amber Sweet’s, never the Blind Mag’s.”
“Mate,” Vessel says, with feeling. “Tell me about it, now I have a Luigi and Nathan.”
“Am I Nathan?” Two asks, voice serious, just as Three yells, “are you calling me Luigi?”
“Shh,” Ivy hisses, because it's been a long while since he’s watched Repo, and Graverobber is such a compelling character. “My husband’s singing, you’re missing out.”
-
Ivy doesn’t make it to the end of the movie, because he falls asleep between Shilo being invited to the opera and Amber’s face falling off mid-show, face pressed to Three’s chest and Three’s fingers scratching at his scalp. It’s really good, and Ivy’s missed this - a simple touch, a little closeness. He’d barely gotten it with Bran outside of body modifications and sex, and he’d forgotten how much it meant to him.
To be touched without it needing to lead to something, to be held without a hidden meaning, an insinuation.
Not that there isn’t insinuation. Three has been flirting with him, since that day at the supermarket, since he’d watched Ivy pull up before his consult, eyes hot and wanting. And Vessel has been, too, if the warm way he watches Ivy move has anything to say; telling him about his awful exes. Two’s the subtle one, Ivy’s realised, taking care of him without being asked to, providing for Ivy without hesitation.
It’s nice.
It’s a lot.
Ivy’s still trying to decide whether it’s a good thing, though.
At some point Three nudges him awake, as the credits are rolling, and when Ivy blinks awake Two and Vessel have left their couch, grabbing dishes and turning off the TV.
“Hm?” Ivy whispers, still half-asleep. Three’s looking at him, smiling softly. It’s nice, really cute, and Ivy says so, without meaning to. Three grins at him, cheeks red.
“You’re cute,” Three says, laughing. “Come on, let me put you to bed, you can sleep in my room, I’ll bunk up with the others.”
“I can stay here,” Ivy says, because the couch is long enough that he can properly stretch out, not that he has been, content to be tucked up against Three’s body. “Don’t mind, m’used to it.”
“Mate, I’m not gonna spend the past few hours flirting with you just to leave you on the couch,” Three says, and Ivy snorts, rubbing his face against the cotton of Three’s shirt, breathing him in. Three’s chest spasms, like his breaths caught. “You make it... very hard.”
Ivy blinks up at him, feeling liquid soft. “Hm?”
“To focus,” Three says quietly, and this close Ivy can see the individual lashes, the way his pupils are dilated. “But I can be patient.”
He stands Ivy up, then, and tangles their fingers together as he leads Ivy past the stairs, down a hallway. There’s several open doors, and Three takes him straight to his room, dragging him in by the fingers. Ivy doesn’t even feel too bad about being led around like this, happy to know that Three wouldn’t do anything to make him uncomfortable.
Three sits Ivy on the edge of his bed, before he turns to start digging through a drawer, and Ivy takes the chance to look around the room. It’s painted a dark red, with a few framed pictures on the walls; of art work, mostly, and a few photos of people Ivy doesn’t know, some of Three, Two and Vessel. There’s a few basses in the corner, though, and that’s interesting.
“You play?” Three asks, sitting back down beside Ivy on the lip of the bed, handing him some sweats and a shirt. “Hopefully they’ll fit, they’re Sam’s, he should be the same size as you.”
“You go ‘round collecting clothes?” Ivy asks, already pulling his shirt over his head, ‘cause he’s hot as hell and he’s been wearing it all day, under his bike jacket. “And yeah, mostly guitar, though it’s been a while.” Three makes a noise, and Ivy stares at him when he tugs the shirt over his head. “What?”
“You-” Three starts, choking, and Ivy blinks, before realising he’s just done that without warning. Oh god. Then Three stares, at Ivy’s wide chest, and he knows when Three sees it. “Damn, she… really did a number on you, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says quietly, setting a finger to the scar tissue around his nipple, faded pink and rough. Three lets him pull the new shirt over his head, tugging until it’s comfortable. It’s big enough, worn in and soft. “I don’t really care, anymore, to be honest. I might get it tattooed one day, just to cover the worst of the scarring.” Shrugs, because he’s thought about it a lot, and he’s not nearly as drunk to talk about it anymore.
“Hm, yeah, fair,” Three says, just as quietly, sitting close enough that he bumps their shoulders together. “Maybe you should wait till I’m better, let me do it.”
“I’m literally getting a tattoo from you on Saturday, Three.”
“So? Like I said, I can be patient.” But he’s looking at him, eyes searching, and Ivy stares back, because he is tipsy enough not to feel embarrassed by his want. “Can you?”
“What?”
“Be patient.”
Ivy breathes out, his ribs squeezing, his thighs tensing, and wonders. Can he? Ivy’s always been the kind to dive head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. But here’s Three, offering him the chance to wait, to hold out, for a little longer.
Like he’s willing to wait, for him; until Ivy’s ready.
Shit, maybe he is. For once in his goddamn life.
“I’m tired,” Ivy says, instead of any of that, because it’s true, and he’s had a long day - a long life , all things considered - and Three nods, mouth twisting into a smile. Ivy bites his lip - catches his piercing, letting go with a grimace - as he thinks, before he finally asks, “can you stay?”
“Hm?”
“Here,” Ivy breathes out, and has to look away, because he’s feeling a lot of things, but it’s a little overwhelming. “Do you. Would it be okay- fuck.” Three doesn’t rush him, only leaning closer, pressing their thighs together. “Just. To sleep, nothing else.”
Three’s looking at him when Ivy turns back, his face open and tender, and smiles, a small and beautiful thing that makes his sharp features soften, makes his eyes warm. Fucking hell.
“Sure,” Three says, after a beat, and slaps a hand on his thigh, squeezing once before standing up. “Lemme go get changed, I’ll just let the others know.”
Once Three closes the door over, to give him some privacy, Ivy kicks off his jeans and tugs up the sweatpants. They’re a little snug, especially in the ass, but they fit well enough, so Ivy doesn’t care. Slides under the covers of the bed before he can second guess himself, because he is tired, and Three’s nice to look at, and it’s-
It’s a lot to take in.
He closes his eyes, and must drop off again at some point, because Ivy wakes up to the bed dipping, the covers being pulled back, and a second later a body slides in beside him. Shuffles close, until Three is prodding Ivy onto his side, saying, “I wanna spoon you, c’mon.”
“Fine,” Ivy huffs, laughing, because it’s good - to feel so openly wanted, to be told he’s worth holding. Rolls onto his side and Three curves close, knees knocking behind his, and Three curls an arm around his middle, pulling until they’re stacked together like legos, no space between them. “Mhm. That’s nice.”
“Yeah, you are,” Three’s breath fans across Ivy’s neck, and it makes him shudder, a thump of arousal pooling in his gut. “Go to sleep, I have you.”
Damn, Ivy thinks, as he starts to drop off again, Three’s breathing steady against his back. When was the last time someone had me?
-
Ivy blinks awake to people talking quietly, and when he finally registers his body he’s tucked up against Three’s side, an arm thrown over his chest, head resting on his shoulder. They must have rolled at some point in the night, so Ivy was clinging to him, something he often does when he’s in bed with another person.
Except Three didn’t push Ivy off, doesn’t even notice he’s awake, talking quietly with Vessel, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a cup. Vessel is the one who sees Ivy blinking, looking around, and smiles, says, “hey, mornin’.”
“Hi,” Ivy says around a yawn, finally pulling away, and Three only lets him sit up after a brief struggle. “What time is it?”
“Hm, a bit before ten? Two’s gone down to get the shop ready.” Vessel holds up his mug, and asks, “tea? I was just about to make Three something.”
“Sure,” Ivy says, rubbing his eyes. “Do you have earl grey?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool, just one sugar, milk, thanks.”
Vessel gets up, leaning over to press his face into Three’s, and Ivy lets himself watch, because he wants to, and they’re really sweet, with how often they reach out for one another. It’s something Ivy’s desperately craved for so long, that even seeing it second hand fills that cup in his gut that’s always empty.
“You have to work today?” Three asks, after Vessel’s steps out. Ivy shakes his head, stretching his arms up, feeling the muscles pull - he makes his own schedule, and he can set his work phone to out of office mode. “That’s good, I don’t have to either, really, since Thom’s still on holiday.” Then Three’s mouth curls up at the corners, the cheeky shit, and adds, “think I can convince you to hang around?”
Ivy rolls his eyes, flipping the covers back so they smack Three in the face, and Three laughs, rolling out the other side. “Vessel’s right, you do get carried away,” he says, with feeling, and looks around for his pants, before pulling both of his phones out. There’s one text from Ails, ily be safe! and nothing on his work cell, so he sets it to office mode.
“Not to fool around!” Three’s still laughing, and stands up to his full height, his shirt riding up a bit as he stretches. Ivy stares at the slip of skin over his stomach, and Three catches him, smirking. “Not that I’d say no to that-” Ivy can’t help it, grabbing one of the pillows and throwing it at Three’s head, and the taller man only just manages to catch it, still laughing, the cheerful fuck. “You said you played guitar?”
“Oh, yeah,” Ivy did, he’d forgotten, with the night's confessions. “It’s been a while, I’m probably rusty.”
“That’s cool,” Three says, and digs around in his closet, before grabbing a hoodie and shoving it over his head. When he comes out the other side his hairs a mess, and Ivy snorts. “Vess has guitars, wanna have a go?”
“He does?” Ivy asks, curious, and gets up to follow Three out to the hallway, where he steps into another room, and it must be Vessel’s. There’s two guitars along the wall, an acoustic and an electric, tucked up close to a keyboard and a synth. “Damn, so Two plays the drums?” Three hums, nodding, and snags the acoustic, holding it out for Ivy. He takes it. “He’s so small, how strong are his legs?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Three whispers, the smooth fuck, so Ivy has to bump his head against his shoulder, a little warning. Three giggles. “C’mon, bring it with you, we’ll drink in the lounge.”
When they finally make it to the living area Vessel’s just finished stirring their teas, and he blinks at the acoustic in Ivy’s hands, staring as he taps the tea bags out into a bin. Ivy kinda wishes he was wearing the mask, so he wouldn’t be able to see how open Vessel’s expressions are, how easily Ivy can see his eyebrows quirk; how lovely and blue his eyes are.
“You play?” Vessel asks, coming around to the couches with the mugs in his hands, sitting beside Three on one of the sofas while Ivy sits on the other. “Why didn’t you say?”
“I mean, you were grilling me about body mods, not music skills,” Ivy says, his laughter trapped in his throat, because Vessel and Three give each other a look before nodding. “Besides, I’m not that good, it was mostly a hobby.”
Except that’s not really true, because Ivy used to be in a band with his old friends, playing in cheap bars and dingy uni clubs, and it’s where he met Bran. He just chooses to see it as that, so the pain is less distracting, more distant, so Ivy doesn’t have to contend with the fact he gave up playing to be with her.
Stupid woman. She’s gonna be his downfall.
“Play me something,” Vessel says, encouragingly, and Ivy sighs, taking a sip of his tea before testing the chords, moving his fingers along the fret. There’s a capo clipped onto the guitar strap. “C’mon, and I’ll get you lunch.”
“You don’t have to bargain with me,” Ivy says, scoffing, but Vessel just smiles, the laughter reaching his eyes.
“Maybe I’m just trying to convince you to stay longer,” Vessel says, and Three snorts, shoving his shoulder, whispering, and you tell me I’m a lot. “Be quiet, you. Please, Ivy?”
A please? Ivy’s breath catches, as he looks at Vessel, who’s staring at him with such a hopeful look that it makes his belly warm, his neck hot. Fuck it.
“Okay,” Ivy says carefully, unclipping the capo and putting it on the fourth fret, throwing the strap around his shoulders. “Just, bare with me, okay?” He plucks a few more chords, testing his touch-memory, his nails a little too long. He’ll make it work. “Okay.”
Then he plays.
Then he sings.
Ivy doesn’t remember falling into that familiarity: of sitting on a couch and playing the guitar for someone, of plucking chords and moving his fingers in the right formations while his throat works, but he’d written enough songs over the years with the boys in the band that it had become second nature.
He does remember when he wrote the song, though. It was after he and Bran had finally called it quits, sitting in his lounge all by himself, looking down at his phone and hoping someone would text him, ask if he was okay. He wasn’t, obviously, and instead of doing something destructive - like he would have, in the past - Ivy had reached for his guitar, pulling it out of the dusty case and sitting it on his lap.
“And I’d give anything,” Ivy sings, his fingers working, and when he looks up for a second Vessel and Three are both staring at him, eyes wide. “To borrow your indifference… ”
He’d only written the first verse, before Ivy had gotten a text from Ails, asking, ped? She only called him that when Ivy was being annoying, or she was worried, his little sister who can’t help but love a lot and care too much - especially about him.
Ivy stops singing, letting the chords fade out. It’s… not a great song, all things considered. It’s sad as hell, but Ivy had enjoyed how the lyrics had juxtaposed the upbeat chords, the structure of the song.
Good foundations, Vessel said.
“Oh,” someone says, and Ivy sighs, putting the guitar down so he can grab his tea. It’s not as hot as it was, when Ivy sets the porcelain to his mouth and carefully drinks about the lip piercing.
Three makes a noise, and when Ivy looks at him he’s smiling, big and wide, showing all his teeth. “You said ‘bare with me’ like you’ve never touched a guitar before, oh my god,” Three laughs, and kicks out his legs, shaking Vessel by the shoulders at the same time. “Are you kidding me? You’re great!”
“Thanks,” Ivy says, flushing hard and ducking, like he could possibly find a way to hide from them. “That... Means a lot, thanks.”
“A hobby,” Vessel finally says, scoffing, and shoves a hand into Three’s face, pushing him over. “You wrote that?”
“Yeah,” Ivy scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed, because it was usually the whole band that wrote, not just him, so he wasn’t the best at it. His stomach growls, as he finishes his tea. “So, uh. Lunch?”
“Yes,” Vessel says, blinking, and lets Ivy drop the subject of his songwriting. “I’ll go to the cafe across the road, you’re okay with whatever I get?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, grateful that they won’t be going anywhere, because- “actually, is it okay if I take a shower? My clothes are fine.”
“Borrow something,” Vessel’s say, and stands up, but not before scrambling his hand against Three’s gut, tickling him. Three screams, rolling off the couch and onto the floor, hitting the coffee table. “Get Ivy some clothes.”
“I was gonna!” Three shouts, kneeling so he can throw Vessel a middle finger, and Ivy snorts into his empty mug, so amused. Three makes a face at him. “Come on, I’ll get you a towel.”
Ivy’s shower is quick and efficient, to the point, and he spends a good thirty seconds glaring down at his half-hard dick, telling it to fuck off. He does not need to get off in the bathroom of his… maybe-crushes, he guesses.
There’s different types of body wash, and Ivy reaches out blindly for one before pouring soap into his hand, scrubbing down. It doesn’t help, when he climbs out, that he must have used Three soap, because he smells like him now. Coconut and caramel, the same scent rolled throughout Three’s blankets, in the fabric of the shirt Ivy slept in.
Ugh. Gods save him, but he’s easy.
“Here,” Three says, when Ivy steps out of the bathroom with the towel around his waist, and points at the pile of clothes he’s set out for Ivy to use; his jeans are there, as well as another shirt. Three’s looking at his legs, though, staring at the peak of the tattoo on his thigh, and grins when he says, “I knew it!”
“Yes, yes,” Ivy says, rolling his eyes, and flashes his bare thigh out of the gap in the towel, so Three can properly see it. “It’s my little sister, one of the twins. My brother’s on the other one.”
“Cool,” Three says, still looking, but his eyes are wanting, hungry and hot. “Need help getting changed?”
“No,” Ivy says firmly, his face blushing furiously, and hates that his cock gives a twitch, hoping to god that Three didn’t notice. “Get out! Oh my god.”
Three does, but only after tipping Ivy’s head up with a finger, grinning down at his face, eyes flashing down to stare his bare chest. “Like I said, I can be patient.”
-
It’s almost two by the time Ivy starts to leave the shop, and it’s only because he’s hyper aware of the fact he’s gone commando in his thick denim jeans and that is not a rash he wants to think about. They’d had lunch - or brunch, if Ivy’s being honest - in the reception area of the shop, Vessel bringing back a tray of coffees and a bag of bagels and croissants, a few sausage rolls and a big ass corner of carrot cake, from the cafe.
It’s… surprisingly easy to fall into a rhythm of these three guys Ivy barely knows, but somehow trusts. When they’d sat down to eat Ivy had ended up on the floor beside Two, the both of them sitting cross-legged, knees knocking. Three had passed out coffees, offered Ivy a few packages of sugar, and when Ivy had sipped his it’d been sweet, flavoured with caramel, so he’d said no to it.
It’s good, simple.
So far they’ve not done anything to throw his trust back in his face, and Ivy’s already let Vessel stab him in the lip. What’s a little crush, between friends?
Gods, he hopes they’re friends. He’s in desperate need of some.
Two’s the one who sees him off, and it’s only because he needs to open the garage for Ivy to grab his bike. Vessel’s sitting with a client, going over a consult with his mask back on, and waves him off as Two leads Ivy back through the hallway, and as they pass the open area Three yells out for him, saying, see you Saturday!, while he sets up Vessel’s space.
It’s incredibly domestic. It makes Ivy’s chest squeeze, his gut roll with pleasure.
“You really should take Vessel out for a ride, sometime,” Two says, while Ivy swings his leg over his bike, settling in. He’s got the garage door open, and the midday sun is warm, throwing Two’s face into sharp contrast. He’s so pretty, and Ivy’s hyper aware of that. “It’s been a while, I think it’d be good for him.”
“And you?” Ivy asks, a little cheeky, because he hasn’t forgotten about Three’s supermarket tirade. “Gonna let Three backpack you?”
“Him? Good god, no,” Two laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling, a twinkling sound that makes Ivy’s stomach flip-flop nervously. Jesus. Then Two stares at him, humming, and that’s definitely appreciation on his face, as Ivy pulls his helmet on. “Maybe I’d let you, though. We’ll see.”
Ivy sucks in a breath, so glad his face is covered, because he’s gonna turn into a fucking tomato, with how often the three of them throw out insinuations and flirts, casual pet names and little bribes to catch Ivy’s attention. And it’s working.
And they’ve not asked for more, despite how obvious Ivy’s attraction to them is, like they’re respecting Ivy’s time, his need for space. It’s nice.
It’s slow. For Ivy, at least.
And that’s a good thing, Ivy decides, turning the engine and kicking the stand up, slowly rolling himself out of the garage. He flips the visor up, so Two can see his eyes, and says, “I’d like that.”
Two smiles again, that small beautiful thing that makes Ivy’s thighs tense, his heart ache pleasantly. “I’ll see you Saturday,” Two says, and comes up to stand near him, putting a hand over his gloved one on the clutch, and keeping it there, warm and lovely. “Text me?”
Ivy swallows, feeling his face and neck get hot, and says, “yeah, course,” like he could even stop himself.
-
A few days later he’s riding out of town, going to a parts dealer for Ails, when he finally works up the courage to just ask. It’s a Friday, he’s going to be seeing them tomorrow anyway, so Ivy thinks it’s best to just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best.
He’s already been texting Two today, anyway, so why not drop a casual nuke into their conversation?
If he’s been reading things wrong, that’s okay, Ivy will get over it. Will it hurt? Fuck yeah, but it’s better than the weird limbo state Ivy’s been in. And a lot of his bravery is fueled by the grindr messages from Tony, who’s asking if he wants to go out again tonight, and while Ivy thinks it’s not such a bad idea to get in a last quick fuck, just to feel less keyed up when he goes to Sleep , maybe… that’s not a good idea.
Ivy’s got the parts that Aileen wants in his trunk, and he’s standing over his bike, balancing as he texts Two: hey weird question but the three of you are like. together right?
He’d thought about maybe asking Three, but Ivy reckons that’ll just open up another can of worms, and asking Vessel was just… not gonna happen, since now whenever he imagines the other man all he can think about are his sharp blue eyes, his long blonde eyelashes fanning across his cheeks when he blinks. Two’s the safest option, and if Ivy’s wrong about their intentions at least Two will let him down easy.
The reply comes through seconds later, because Ivy’s been texting him a lot, since Wednesday. yeah sorry we shouldve made that obvs why do u ask?
Ivy stares at his phone screen, finger tapping at the edge of the case, and bites his lip - stops, because he forgot about his fucking piercing, ugh - as he types out his reply: lmk if im reading into it but the three of u are, stops typing, taking in a big breath before he forges on. interested in me? Hits send, before he can chicken out, and Ivy feels like such a teenager, on the verge of throwing his phone into a bush so he doesn’t have to look at his own words.
Can’t, because Two replies within seconds, just a simple: yes.
Oh. Oh. Ivy clenches his phone, feeling the plastic squeak in his hand, and types back: and its all of u. im not reading into that either
no ur not. its all of us. Ivy can feel his breathing kick up, his legs tensing with misplaced energy. Two sends another text: is that ok? we can stop if its making u uncomfortable its totally fine <3
Ivy stares at the heart emoticon, blinking a few times. Is it making him uncomfortable? Kind of? In the way that Ivy’s not used to being the centre of someone’s attention like that, never mind the centre of three people’s attention. With Bran it was always about her, never about Ivy’s feelings, his wants or wishes, and he knows that it wasn’t good, to be so unwanted even when he was fucking her.
Texts back: its ok. i just wanted to check. in case
in case?
Ivy’s hands are sweating, and he has to drop his phone on the tank to wipe his palm over his thigh, his heart beating fast. in case i was making shit up in my head and being weird. i dont have many friends anymore
He can’t imagine what Two must think of him, of his message, at the sad sack that he’s placed his affections in, and decides he’s been brave enough for the morning. Slips his phone into his inner jacket pocket, slides his gloves on and kicks the stand up, before rolling out onto the road and riding off.
It buzzes a few times, against his chest, and Ivy focuses on the stretch of road in front of him, of turning with his bike around corners, along the hills. It’s a good ride, and Ivy’s glad Ails asked him to get her things, because the fresh grassy air and farmland help ease the thing in Ivy’s gut that always wants to jump straight into any situation, without thinking it through.
He’s just dropping the parts of at Aileen’s garage, waving hello to a couple of the guys she works with, when Ails comes out and smiles, smacking his helmet hard.
“Ow,” he snaps, and hands her the parts, scowling with the visor flipped up. “You bitch, and after I drove all that way for you.”
“Shut up, you enjoyed it,” Ails says, laughing at him, and passes the parts off to an apprentice when they run up at her call. “Feel better?”
“Huh?”
Aileen rolls her eyes, cocking her hip and giving him a look. “After your ride? You’ve been weird lately.” Stops, narrowing her eyes at him, and Ivy glares. “Weirder than usual, I mean. Did it help?”
“The ride?”
“Yes, you big idiot.”
Ivy sighs, balancing on his bike, and concedes with a smile - she really does know him the best. “Yeah, it did. Thanks, Ails.” Keeps looking at her, because Aileen looks like she’s expecting something else. Ivy bites his lip - forgets, about the piercing, though it doesn't hurt as much anymore - before adding, “they’ve been flirting with me.”
“I knew it!” she hollers, throwing her arms up in the air. “You and shops, huh?” Ivy scowls, because wow, low blow. “Eh, I didn’t mean anything bad, Ped. Least I know where these ones live, so I can burn it down if they hurt you.”
Ivy chokes, falling a little, and almost upsets his bike, except Aileen reaches out to balance him again. “You’d do that?”
“What?”
“Burn the place down, if they hurt me?”
And now Aileen’s looking at him softly, like he’s a bit of a fool, like she wouldn’t do absolutely anything in her power to avenge him. Ivy remembers, that first night after he’d moved in with her, curling up in her bed and crying, because he was just so fucking hurt, and none of his friends gave a shit. And Ails had been shaking in her anger, bitter and furious, seconds away from driving back to Bristol and giving everyone a piece of her mind.
He’d begged her not to, to just forget it, because he couldn’t fathom even thinking about anyone back in Bristol, never mind let his sister loose on them. She’d only calmed down when she’d realised how upset he was, how much worse he’d felt, and she’d given in, curling herself around his body, holding him close.
Ivy forgets that despite him being the oldest, Aileen’s always had everyone's back. Ivy was a small kid, until he’s properly filled out, and Ails had grown up faster than everyone else, the rough and tumble kind of kid that got into a lot of fights with Ivy, when bullies thought he was easy picking. He never was, he’s always been weirdly strong, but Aileen always threw herself into any scraps that involved him, or any of their siblings, really.
“Of course, Ped,” Aileen says, and when Ivy reaches out for her she grasps his hand, squeezing tight. “I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” Puts her other hand on the top of his helmet, patting once, before shoving her fingers into the open visor and sticking them up his nose, thoroughly ruining the moment. Ivy squawks, trying to get away. “Now fuck off, text your boys, I wanna meet them.”
“You fuck off!” Ivy snaps, finally wrenching her fingers from his helmet, and flips her off with both hands when she starts to walk away. He’s smiling, though, his stomach not so knotted up anymore, his nervousness settled. “You’re not meeting them! God, you’re the worst.”
“I’m your worst, Ivy,” Ails says over her shoulder, and Ivy laughs, shaking his head. She’s right, of course. Then she stops, and yells, “I’m staying at Nat’s tonight! If you’re gonna fuck them, now’s the chance-”
“Oh my god!”
“I’m just saying!”
“Go away!” Little sisters. Ugh.
Still, Ivy feels lighter, like he’s not carrying the weight of his assumptions around anymore. Pulls out his phone from his jacket pocket and taps it awake, to see that he has several texts from Two. Ivy breathes in a big gulp of air, before opening them.
ur not weird ivy. we’re friends, i hope
we can be more than friends if u want but if ur not ready for that i totally get it
i dont mind either way, as long as ur okay
Jesus. Ivy quickly types back, because now the adrenaline is kicking in: youd wait for me?
Two’s reply comes through just as quick, like he’d been waiting on him. yeah ivy i can. we can. its worth it. Ivy stares down at his screen, processing, because…
Because, maybe aside from his family, no one’s ever told Ivy that he was worth waiting for, worth the effort. He’d thought, when he was younger, that waiting was stupid, that holding out for the right person was dumb, especially when Branwen was right there and willing to indulge him.
But it wasn’t good, and Ivy’s learnt a lot over the years, over the heartache and stupid decisions. Because Two’s right: he is worth it, and while it sucks that Bran didn’t think the same, clearly they do.
And that’s good. Worth it.
Three didn’t push him to do anything more than cuddle, to hold each other in their sleep and on the couch watching movies, and while he’s clearly a massive flirt he’s let Ivy dance out of his hands every time. Two’s sweet, gentle with his affections, taking care of Ivy in ways that mean something to him; giving him food, making sure he’s okay, leading him with a soft hand. And Vessel?
Vessel let him see his face, his unguarded and beautiful expressions, and shared his own grief, and he’s doing great in spite of the bullshit in his past. Vessel’s living proof that Ivy can move on, can walk away from the clusterfuck that was Bristol, and still come out the other side strong, steady.
He’s already taken the leap. What’s a few more jumps?
okay, he types back, firm and sure in his conviction. yeh id like that
to be more than friends? Two replies, a minute later, and Ivy smiles, feeling the sun warm on his face, his legs and back. It’s a good day, and tomorrow’s supposed to be better; it’d be the perfect day for riding around the countryside, if he didn’t already have something else to look forward to.
yes. Ivy replies, then quickly sends another text: but i’ll probs have to take it slow, all things considered
thats fine!! omfg ofc i mean we can be a lot, Two replies, then: ok thats a lie iii can be a lot but i can reign him in if hes an ass
Ivy snorts, ‘cause yeah, he can imagine. If Three’s like this when he doesn’t have confirmation that someone returns his feelings, what the fuck must he be like when someone does?
its fine, Ivy texts, because Three’s touchiness is nice, a good thing, and Ivy’s learning to let himself like it, to remember how much he craves it. He goes to type out another message, but a few others come through instead, his phone pinging as Three’s texts pop up:
omg does this mean i can kiss u now????????
ivyyyyyyyyyyy
IVY REPLYYYYYYYYYY
ivyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!
ivyyyyaksais
Vessel’s texts are more subdued: hi! i hope ur doing ok!
wanna come by the shop? i just finished w my last appt i just have walk ins now
jfc i took iiis phone away good god sorry about that
Is it possible, Ivy wonders, staring down at his phone as it blows up with messages, that there were always people out there in the world who wanted to make Ivy feel safe? That wanted to hold him, keep him secure, and he’d just been wasting his time with absolute wankers? The kind of assholes that deigned to give him a slice of comfort, and only when he begged for it?
sure, Ivy replies to Vessel, because he does want to go to the shop, to see them, to feel all of their affections, so obvious and warm. be there soon
It’s gonna be a long road, a little rough, with patches of paved over cement and pot holes along the way, but Ivy thinks, fuck it, because it’s worth it. And he doesn’t feel so unsure, with his phone full of messages between the four of them, about finding out what’s at the end.
They’ll be waiting. And Ivy’s ready to give himself a chance at happiness, at creature comforts, at love. Because he’s worth it.
The rest will fall into place.
-
Three doesn’t even give him a chance to kill the engine when he pulls up, before he’s rushing over, his vape stuck between his lips, throwing his arms wide and crushing Ivy in his hold. And Ivy returns the hug, because he wants to, curving his hands around Three’s narrow waist and holding on, his helmet bumping into Three’s chin.
“Hey,” he says, when Three steps back, and the taller man’s grin is big, showing all his teeth. It makes him look young and goofy and cute. Ivy pulls off his helmet, and when Three asks, hands it over. “Gonna let me get off, or keep me here?”
Ivy knows he’s left himself open to insinuation, but Three doesn’t rise to the bait, and he’s quietly grateful. “Maybe I just wanna look at you, did you think about that, huh?” Three says, the cheeky fuck, and his eyes are warm, inviting. “Stay for dinner?”
“Depends, are you cooking?” Two had mentioned it the other night, over drinks, about how bad Two is in the kitchen. And while Ivy likes him enough to let Three stab him, he’s not overly fond of the idea of burnt food.
Three makes a face. “No, Vess is on dinner tonight,” pokes his tongue out, and Ivy laughs, finally killing the engine and climbing off. “No! Get back on, I didn’t even get a picture.”
Ivy rolls his eyes, pulling his balaclava off and unzipping his jacket, because it’s hot, and he’s been riding all day. “There’s gonna be other chances, Three,” he says, and Three hums, smiling. “Good grief, man, keep it to yourself. Gimme that.”
He doesn’t, only holding Ivy’s helmet above his head, laughing as Ivy scowls at him. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says, as Ivy swipes at his long arms - why the fuck is he so tall? “One kiss, and I’ll give it back.”
“Just one?” Ivy asks, face flushing, because he wants to kiss him, goddammit, but- “My lip.”
“Oh, yeah,” Three says, deflating a little, looking at the piercing in Ivy’s bottom lip. His eyes dart from the silver to Ivy’s eyes, assessing, before he adds, “it’s been like, a month, it should be fine. I’ll be gentle.”
Well. Why not? What’s a little making out between friends?
“C’mere,” Ivy says quietly, and Three leans into his space, noses bumping, and he is gentle when he presses their lips together, soft and chaste. It’s a barely there kiss, focused mostly on Ivy’s upper lip, so he barely touches the piercing. When Three stands back up, his face is flushed, his eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. Ivy’s stomach swoops. “Oh.”
“Yeah, you too,” Three says, and hands the helmet back. “C’mon, the others are waiting.”
Ivy follows Three into the shop, where Two’s sitting behind the desk and Vessel’s on the couch, stretched out with his tablet on his lap. If they were pretending to be busy, they do a shit job of it, because the second Ivy steps through the door, bell ringing, Vessel tosses his ipad away, sitting up straight, and Two jumps up, coming around the table.
“Hey!” Two says, and goes to give him a hug, before stopping, his face hesitant. And Ivy closes the gap - because fuck it, why not? - still walking, and thumps into Two’s smaller body with an audible oof! He’s holding his helmet in one hand and jacket in the other, but Two makes up for it, bringing his arms up around his middle, hugging him. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Ivy says, and lets his face drop into Two’s hair, breathing him in. Fucking hell, but he smells good. “So, dinner?”
“You’re staying?” Three asks, skipping past them and throwing himself down beside Vessel on the couch, acting all innocent, like he didn’t already ask outside. Ivy rolls his eyes.
Vessel looks like he’s unsure, sitting on the edge of the leather sofa, and Ivy can’t help it, cocking his head as if to say, come here. He gets up, though, so that’s a win in Ivy’s books, and carefully makes his way closer, standing at Two’s back.
“Here, lemme,” Two says, squeezing once, before stepping away, and when neither of them move he shoves at Vessel, pushing him into Ivy’s open arms. “Three, get up, help me tidy, we’ll close early.”
“Okay.”
Ivy looks up, because he has to with Vessel, and he can kinda see under the mask, this close, and Vessel’s blinking down at him, through the small gap between the shell and his skin, smiling.
“Hi,” Ivy repeats, and drops his head against Vessel’s chest, breathing out with a sigh. His arms hurt from holding his stuff, but he doesn’t mind, not when Vessel props his chin over his head and breathes with him, arms coming around to hold him close. “Three said you’re cooking.”
Vessel snorts. “Yeah, no way he is.” Breathes in quickly, and Ivy can hear the rabbit-fast beat of his heart. “Not when I wanna impress you.”
“You’re still bargaining?” Ivy laughs, shoulders shaking.
“Nah, just trying to sweeten the deal.”
Ivy snorts, rubs his face into Vessel’s shirt, before stepping away, and Vessel lets him. Says, “you don’t have to, I’m already here.”
“Yeah, well,” Vessel shrugs, crossing his arms, and his necks gone red, which means he’s blushing, and that’s so fucking cute. And he’s biting his lip, looking at him, when he says, “maybe I want you to stay longer.”
Well, fuck. Ivy can make that work.
-
Dinner ends up being innocent enough. Vessel cooks a brown butter alfredo with chicken, and it's good, Vessel beaming when Ivy tells him so. Then he helps Two with the dishes, happy to put his hands to good use, finding out where everything in the kitchen belongs, Two pointing at drawers and cupboards with wet hands.
They end up on the couches afterwards, Ivy lying in the cradle of Vessel’s body, the same way he’d been with Three the other night, and the both of them finally manage to talk Two and Three into watching the Albert Hall showing of Phantom of the Opera.
It mostly works because Ivy’s there, he’s sure, but he takes advantage of it anyway. He meant it, when he said Sierra Boggess is a great Chrstine, and he stands by it, goddammit.
Even then, when the recording finishes, Vessel and Ivy shaking each other with their opinions, the night doesn’t end. Two puts on another movie, something they’ve all seen, and eventually Three comes over with a handful of mugs, hands Ivy an earl grey without him having asked.
He gets a text from Ails at around half-nine, and when did that happen? It reads: hope ur having a good nite!! nat says hello! I WANT TO MEET THEM EVENTUALLY, PED.
Ivy scowls at his screen, says, “you are not,” and Vessel makes a questioning noise in his throat, nudging Ivy’s temple with his nose. Two pauses the movie. “My sister,” he explains, typing back, fuck u hi nat! go to SLEEP BRAT. “She wants to meet you.”
“Just me?” Vessel asks, blinking, and Ivy stops, because he wasn’t meant to admit that, actually. “Or-”
“All of you,” Ivy says, blushing furiously, and Ails replies, fuck u ly2 bitch <3. “God, she’s the worst.” Vessel laughs, shaking him, and Ivy throws his phone onto the coffee table, before settling back into Vessel’s body, and waves at Two hit play.
When the movie ends Ivy’s tired, but in a good way, and Three gets up to make more tea, Ivy declining. It’s almost eleven, and he needs to get a decent sleep in, especially if he’s getting tattooed the next day.
Stands up, stretching his legs out, and goes to say, I should head off, when Vessel tugs on his hand and whispers, “you should stay the night.”
“Uh,” Ivy says, breath catching. “I mean.”
“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” Vessel says quietly, and curls their fingers together. “Just. It’s late, and you’re gonna be coming back in the morning, anyway, so.” Bites his lip, and Ivy can’t help but zero in on the action, blinking rapidly. “If you want.”
“I do,” Ivy says, eventually, and Three comes back over, holding three mugs. “I… swung by the flat, on my way, to grab a change of clothes.” Breathes in deeply, embarrassed as all hell, because he’d hoped one of them would ask - had done it, shoving clothes into a bag, like he was casting a spell. “Yeah, okay.”
“Cool,” Three says, drinking from his mug. “So, do I call dibs or-”
“Three,” Two hisses, just as Vessel yells, “no! I call dibs, since I asked him to stay.” Ivy bursts out laughing, sitting back down as Two scowls at Vessel, because they make it sound like Ivy’s worth fighting over.
And it’s a good feeling, so Ivy holds it tight.
“Next time,” Ivy says, kicking Two’s leg gently, and Two sighs, before saying, okay. “I really should sleep, though, since someone’s gonna be stabbing me in twelve hours.”
“Good point.”
He and Vessel go downstairs, Ivy walking to his bike and Vessel meeting him at the open garage door, and Ivy grabs his bag of clothes from the trunk and follows Vessel back up to their flat. It’s domestic as all fuck, and Ivy lets himself appreciate Vessel’s ass as they go up the stairs, able to see a sliver of his skin between his shirt and waistband, and spies the colourful ink.
Damn, he needs to know about that back tattoo, sooner rather than later.
They all take turns in the bathroom, and Ivy ends up in Vessel’s bed first, the other man washing up, and takes a chance to look around the room. It’s tidier than Three’s, that’s for sure, and there’s a desk he didn’t notice last time with two monitors, a massive tablet resting on a cradle, a comfortable chair tucked under it.
There’s a few shelving units, too. One of the tall ones is full of art books from movies and shows Ivy can vaguely make out, a glass one covered in figures and merch - he’s pretty sure that’s a whole ass Master Chief helmet sitting on the top, god, he’s a big nerd, and that’s so fucking cute - and the last one has pictures in photo frames. From his spot in the bed Ivy can see a photo of Vessel, Three and Two huddled under a blanket, their faces younger and carefree; clearly taken as a selfie, because Three’s arms are stretched out, like he was holding a camera.
The room is full of personality, the walls painted a deep blue, and what he’d originally thought were posters on the walls are paintings of different sea creatures, done in a light silver and white, barely there, like ghosts.
Ivy’s appreciating the octopus above his head, following a tentacle with his eyes, when Vessel steps back into the room, turning the light off and shuffling over in the dark. “C’mere,” Ivy says, throwing the blankets back, and Vessel crawls in, gets close enough that Ivy can pull him into his arms. “C’mon, hold me.”
“Are you sure?” Vessel asks softly, though he’s already shuffled himself into a comfortable position, Ivy half lying over his chest, an arm under his head and his other one curled around Ivy’s middle, his big hand splayed over his back. Ivy nods, scrubbing his face into Vessel’s shirt, and he can hear the thumping of Vessel’s heart, beating rapidly. “Okay, lemme know if you need space.”
“I will,” Ivy says, instead of, unlikely, because he needs that, to have control, to be able to pull away. And Vessel’s offering him an out, being respectful of his boundaries. It just makes him feel good, warmth blossoming in his chest, spreading to his limbs. It’s nice.
Ivy knows he falls asleep first, because he can remember Vessel’s fingers scratching at his scalp, a hum in throat, like he’s quietly singing to Ivy, rocking him to sleep with a lullaby.
Oh, Ivy thinks, as he’s about to drop off, because he recognises the tune now. He’s singing the song Ivy played, the other day, to Three and Vessel, feeling like he was giving a big part of himself away, and felt safe enough to let them in. Like Vessel remembers the tune, has it burnt into his bones and tissue, the same way Ivy does.
It’s good.
He sleeps.
-
The next morning passes in a blur, because the pre-tattoo adrenaline starts to kick in after Ivy climbs out of the shower, dressing quickly so he doesn’t have another naked run in with Three, and swaps out with Vessel, who only looks a little disappointed that Ivy’s wearing clothes. Ivy cocks an eyebrow, giving Vessel a flat look, and the taller man has the sense to blush, knowing he’s been caught.
“Maybe next time,” Ivy says, and Vessel’s blush spreads. Ivy walks away, before he does something, like push Vessel against the wall and kiss him stupid.
Then stops, because actually, and turns back around and crowds Vessel against the wall, he does want to kiss him. Is fucking burning to do it, and when Ivy presses his hands against his face, he watches Vessel’s eyes get hot, his pupils dilate, and knows he’s hungry for it, too.
“Kiss me?” Ivy asks, quiet and desperate, and Vessel sucks in a quick breath, before he’s leaning down, slotting their mouths together, soft and sweet. It’s nice, makes Ivy’s ribs squeeze, and he’s so fucking happy, especially when Vessel presses his lips to the corner of his mouth, to his cheekbone, kissing him all over his face, where he can reach, making Ivy laugh. “Oh my god.”
“I can stop,” Vessel says, breath huffing across his forehead, but Ivy shakes his head no, because it’s good, and he likes it. “Cool, ‘cause I’m gonna be doing it a lot, now.” Stops, chuckling. “I mean, in a friendly way, of course.” Presses another kiss over Ivy’s closed eye, mouth curved into a smile. “Just some smooches between bros.”
“Mate,” Ivy laughs, and Vessel does too, finally easing up on his assault. “At least take me on a date first.”
“Oh,” Vessel’s mouth spreads wider, his grin toothy and so fucking genuine, that it makes Ivy’s stomach flip-flop. Good god. “That can be arranged.”
Ivy leaves then, because he’s starting to fold, and he’s pretty sure Vessel could convince him to get on his knees in seconds, and he’s actually trying to take this slowly, goddammit. Besides, Two’s made breakfast, and he hands Ivy a plate with crispy bacon and poached eggs, sliced mushrooms and spinach and toast, and slides a cup of tea over, once Ivy’s sat at the kitchen island.
“Eat,” Two says, after Ivy stares at him for a moment, because this means so much to him, and he doesn’t know how to tell Two that. “Three’s already gone down. Vess in the shower?” Ivy nods, sipping at his tea - it’s earl grey, perfectly made. “How’d you sleep?”
“Really good, thanks,” Ivy says, and starts to eat, because it’s almost half-ten and he doesn’t want to make Three wait on him. “You?”
“Mhm, the same,” Two sips at his tea, looking at Ivy over the mug, watching Ivy eat, like he wants to make sure he does it. “You gonna offer me a kiss, too? Or do I get left out, ‘cause I haven’t slept with you yet.” Ivy chokes on a piece of bacon, taking a big gulp of his tea to swallow it. Two’s laughing at him, though, the cheeky fuck, and says, “Three told me, he kept ribbing me about it in bed.”
“You could just ask,” Ivy says, around his bite of spinach, and knows his face is red, his neck hot. It’s mostly bravado, the courage from kissing Vessel in the hallway, the dredges of bravery from kissing Three yesterday. Still, if Two wants one, well…
That can be arranged.
“Fine, then I will,” Two says firmly, dropping his empty mug into the sink and coming around the island, and when he steps close Ivy opens his legs, curling his foot around Two’s thigh, so he’s pulled into the cradle of his thighs. “C’mon, you know you want to,” Two whispers, and his hands are strong, when he grips Ivy’s collar, tugging him down, so their noses bump. Two’s eyes are warm, his lashes so fucking long, inviting and dangerous all at once.
Truth is, Ivy wants to hear it; needs to know that Two wants him. And Two just… smiles sweetly, shoving himself even closer and looking up at him, and asks, “kiss me?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, quiet and full of longing, ‘cause he does want to. Doesn’t speak again, because he’s curving his hands up Two’s face, pulling him up, pressing their lips together, just getting a small taste.
His piercing doesn’t throb, and that’s a good sign, means it’s healing well, so Ivy dives head first into his lust: bites at Two’s lips, licking into his mouth when he gasps. And Two gives back just as good, grabbing at Ivy’s shoulders, dragging him down as he sucks on Ivy’s tongue, moaning around the taste of him.
It’s hot as hell, and only ruined by the fact Three says, “wow,” and Ivy and Two spring apart, like teenagers caught kissing behind an equipment shed. But Three doesn’t look mad, standing at the top of the landing and looking at them, just happy. “So much for taking it slow, huh?”
Two scowls, still standing in the bracket of Ivy’s legs, but Ivy says, “honestly, for me? This is glacial.” And Two turns to stare up at him, his face softening, his eyebrows quirked in a questioning way, like he’s quietly asking if they’re okay. Ivy smiles, and takes his chances, pressing their lips together one more time, just to ease the unsure expression on Two’s face. “I’m okay, really.” Then, because he’s trying to be more honest with himself, adds, “I… like this, just. Small touches like this, I like it, a lot.”
“Okay,” Two finally says, after a long moment of assessing him. “We should maybe have a talk, about your boundaries, just so we’re all on the same page, huh?”
Ivy breathes out, his chest aching in the most wonderful way, squeezing hot with affection. Smiles, says, “yeah, that’d be nice,” and ducks down for one last kiss, because he can, and he wants to.
Two laughs against his mouth, whispers, “eat your breakfast, you’re giving Three a free show,” but kisses him back, like he can’t get enough of him, either. Pulls away only when Ivy whispers back, it’s fine, he can watch, because he’s properly laughing, shaking with it. “We’re gonna be late! I have to open the shop!”
“I think the owner’s okay with that,” Vessel says, padding down the hallway with a towel around his shoulders, scrubbing at his hair, and steps into the kitchen, reaching over to pop the kettle. “Provided he gets to watch, too.”
“You’re all terrible,” Two snaps, but it’s ruined by his laughter, just as Ivy says, “yeah, I’m okay with that.”
“Oh my god,” Two says, shaking his head and finally stepping away, so Ivy turns back to his breakfast, eating around his smile. It was forecast to be a good day, and so far the prediction is turning out right.
-
“Happy with that?” Three asks, after he’s peeled away the stencil on Ivy’s arm, and cocks his head to stare, a little like a bird. It’s cute, and Ivy tells him so, just to see the way his eyes light up, just to watch his smile grow. “God, you’re soft. In a good way, I mean, it’s nice.” Giggles to himself, his cheeks red, like he’s nervous, and that’s so fucking sweet, so Ivy tells him that, too. “Oh my g- stop it! I’m trying to work!”
“Okay, okay,” Ivy concedes, looking at his arm, going to stand in front of the mirror and staring at the reflection of the tattoo placement. It’s gonna be above Aileen’s birthday, his fresh start permanently connected to his little sister, like they’re tethered together. Plus, she’s always wanted a cat, but she’s allergic to them, the poor fucker, so it doubles as a great joke that he can’t wait to show her. “It’s good, I’m happy with it.”
“Awesome,” Three says, standing up behind him to look, and when Ivy’s eyes meet his reflections, he grins with all his teeth. “Wanna come outside with me? I’ll have a vape while it dries.”
“Sure.”
It’s warm enough that Ivy doesn’t need a jacket when he steps out the front, and when they pass by the desk he ducks down to give Two’s hand a squeeze, getting a sweet one in return. Three tangles their fingers together once they’re outside, and Ivy just steps closer, their hips bumping.
“You’re so touchy, aren’t you?” Three asks around his vape, and Ivy nods, leaning against him. “That’s good, I am, too. I hope you’re aware that I’m just gonna get worse.”
“That’s fine,” Ivy says, because it’s true, and he can’t wait. “What’s a little hand holding between bros?” And Three bursts into a laugh, squeezing his hand. “Just friendly smooches between friends, even.”
“Are you asking me to kiss you?”
“Maybe.”
“Cool, ‘cause I’m gonna.”
“Do it then.”
Ivy swallows Three’s laughter, when the taller man presses their mouths together, one hand curving around Ivy’s jaw while he holds onto Three’s hips for balance, letting him tip their heads back. It’s a good kiss, the kind that Ivy used to dream about, and his lip doesn’t throb when Three bites at it.
“You’re giving Two a free show,” Ivy whispers against Three’s lips, smiling so big it hurts, and Three kisses him again, instead of answering. “C’mon, this is dry, let’s go in.”
The actual tattooing process is fine, something so easy in how Ivy falls into the rhythm of it. Three keeps checking in on him, because Ivy’s only the fourth or so person he’s tattooed, asking how he’s feeling, if he needs anything, and Ivy’s honest with his replies; “m’good, you’re doing great. Nah, I’m fine, I’ll let you know.”
There’s a small lick of arousal in Ivy’s gut, pooling warm but not insistent, like it’s leftover lust and affection from the morning. From waking up next to Vessel, not because of the familiar stabbing pain from the needle. From kissing Two in the kitchen, not from drag of ink through his flesh. From the warm way Three’s looking at him, not because he wants something, but because they’re just shooting the shit while Three works, and it’s so comfortable.
Three doesn’t ask for more, is completely professional as he works, and he even keeps his flirting to a minimum, and Ivy’s so goddamn thankful for that. It’s helping to cut that wire in his lizard brain, that expects a quick fuck or heavy petting.
It’s how Ivy’s first tattoo felt, when he got Ails’ birthdate done, sitting with one of his old best mates from Bristol in his garage, before he’d opened the shop. He used to play the bass in their band, and knowing that Three does too makes him laugh, a happy memory to look back on.
Tells him as much, when Three asks, and he snickers, says, “it’s a good instrument, I completely understand.”
“You should play for me,” Ivy says, because he’s interested, and actually. “Do you know that Vessel remembers the song I played for you guys the other day?”
“Yeah, he’s been playing it,” Three says, after he’s pulled a long thin line of ink, and Ivy blinks at him, dumbfounded. “Memory of an elephant, I tell ya. Good?” Ivy nods, because wow, that’s kind of incredible. “Tell me about it, sucks when he wants to bring up a dumb thing I did in uni though, ugh.”
“So you’ve known each other since then?” Ivy asks, curious, and crosses his legs to get comfortable, leaning back in the chair.
Three nods, tilting his head from side to side to inspect his work, before he dips his needle into some ink. “They grew up together, but I met them in my first year. Film 101, it was my dump course, but Vess ended up in my tutorial, so, yeah.” Smiles, like he’s thinking back on it. “What’s your sister like?”
“Annoying.”
“C’mon, man, gimme something. I wanna look impressive when I meet her.”
“You’re already doing better than Bran,” Ivy says, and Three blinks, looking around them, like he can’t believe it. “I know, the bar’s in hell, and she still managed to crawl under it. Don’t worry. So, Aileen…”
The hour passes them by, as Ivy tells Three about his siblings, starting with Ails. Doesn’t feel that horrible flush of fucked-up arousal, as Three tattoos him, because he’s too distracted talking about Dairs’ kids, Cynta’s degree that she’s studying for, Hunf’s upcoming trip to Japan. He’s terribly proud of his siblings, because he loves them, even if they’re the worst people on earth, and Three keeps asking for more, and Ivy wants him to know.
“Wait, Ivy’s not your first name?” Three blinks, pausing to wipe his arm, and Ivy cringes, nodding. “I mean, same, Three’s not mine, either, but it’s easier to say.”
“Right,” Ivy says, with feeling. He doesn’t ask for Three’s actual name, and Three doesn’t ask, either, respecting him. It makes Ivy happy, makes affection burn through his gut, pleasant and warm.
Half an hour later, and Three’s wrapping his arm, giving him the after-care spiel, because Three wants the practice and Ivy’s content to indulge him. Hands over his cash, and glares at him when Three says, “you don’t have to tip me, Ivy, I’m an apprentice,” trying to shove the extra fifty back into his hand.
“I want to,” Ivy says, and Three makes a face, so he concedes, feeling his face get hot as he asks, “okay, I’ll get lunch then, how about that?”
“That I can work with,” Three says, smiling, and Ivy waits for him while he tells Two and Vessel they’re gonna step out to get food, and if they want anything.
“Just coffee, if you can?” Two asks, when he comes back to his spot at the desk, and Ivy nods, ‘cause he can do that. “Let me see?” Ivy holds up his arm, where the new tattoo is resting, his skin a little swollen and red, but otherwise fine. Two hums, like he’s thinking, and says, “yeah, he did a great job. How was he?”
“Good,” Ivy says, honest, because Three was great; really chatty, but that might be just down to the fact it was Ivy, but attentive and focused, careful with him. “He wants to do my cover up, here,” points at his chest, where the scarring from his nipple-mishap sits. “When he’s better.”
“You’re gonna spoil him,” Two says, scoffing, and Ivy shrugs, because he wants to, and he can. “Good grief, this is you taking it slow?”
Ivy shrugs again, biting at the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning like an idiot, not that he manages very well, because Two’s rolling his eyes, his cheeks pink, his eyes full of laughter.
“Ready!” Three calls, dancing back around the desk and grabbing Ivy’s hand, tangling their fingers together as he pulls him along. “C’mon, before they run out of breakfast bagels, let’s go.”
“Okay,” Ivy says, letting himself be pulled into Three’s tide, and finds himself on steady ground, not feeling like he’s being swallowed whole. “Let’s go.”
-
Weeks go by, of Ivy quietly enjoying Vessel, Two and Three’s warmth, their easy affection. He doesn’t have to beg for comfort, because someone’s always touching him; a brush of fingers across his back or neck, someone holding his hand, sitting close enough on couches that he can feel the burning warmth of skin through his clothes.
He and Vessel go on that date, and end up making out on the leather sofas in the shop, Vessel pressed over Ivy’s body, squishing him into the couches. And they only stop, because Ivy doesn’t want to do anything more, is just happy to have this for now, and Vessel respects that, pulling away with a smile and one last kiss, soft and tender.
That, and Three flicks the lights on in the reception, blinding them for a second, and says, “you said we’d watch a movie! Come on! ” before ushering them down the hall, up the stairs and into the lounge, where Two’s sitting, waiting for them.
They talk about Ivy’s boundaries. He doesn’t want to dive head first into sex, because he’s a little afraid and a lot anxious, fully aware that he’s fallen into another fling with two tattoo artists and a piercer. And they get that, too, never pressure him for more than what he can give.
“But we can touch you?” Two asks, careful and soft, even though they’ve been holding hands the entire time, sitting at the dinner table. Ivy nods, because he likes it, and Two smiles. “And kissing is fine?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, and as if to prove his point, he dips down, pressing their lips together. “But mostly I just need to hear that… you guys want me, with words. It’s gonna take a bit, but…” shrugs, because he doesn’t know how to verbalise it.
And they get that, too.
He’s seeing a therapist that Natalie suggested, when he talked with her and Aileen about his hang ups, and it’s good. Ivy’s realising, over the first few sessions they have together, that none of it is his fault, that he’s just as much a victim as a part of the situation, and he’s working through it, one day at a time.
Ivy meets the other Sleep staff; Thom, who’s finally back from holiday, and Sam, the other part time piercer, who he’s just never run into. He has a puppy, though, a sweet thing that bumps against Ivy’s legs the first time they meet, begging for affection. And Ivy gives it, because he wants to, and the dog’s fucking cute.
Aileen comes over for dinner, up to their flat, and she’s immediately taken with Three, which is dangerous, because they’re both menaces on their own, and together they’re a goddamn hurricane. Ivy doesn’t mind, though, because he likes that his little sister enjoys his boyfriend's company. Is touched, whenever Ails asks after them, or Three finds something he thinks she’ll like, a little trinket or vape juice, or Two will be texting her behind the desk, because he genuinely wants to get to know her.
Or his absolute favourite memory, of the first time he’d brought Ails and Nat to the shop together, and paid for them to get matching piercings, because he loves his little sister a lot, and Nat’s good for her. It was an anniversary gift to them, from him and Vessel, and he’d taken so many selfies with them and Vessel, in his mask, after he’d finished up, and spammed the family group chat.
who tf is that, Dairs’ asks, just as the twins start yelling, ARE U AT SLEEP over and over again, demanding for attention. Ivy and Ails snicker, scrolling through the bible verses that their mum is sending, and Ails types, on Ivy’s phone: that’s vess he’s one of peds bfs.
ONE OF? mum’s message says, and Cynta replies, nice, gg peds.
He learns more about them as another month passes. Vessel and Two have known each other since they were kids, going to the same schools, and met Three in university, and by the end of their second year together they’d become flat mates.
“It’s funny, ‘cause Two and I were always,” Vessel says, over dinner one evening, making a hand gesture between himself and Two. “Like this, but it wasn’t until I started dating Mal and Rita that I realised we could be more, and I was just too afraid to do anything about it.”
“It’s true,” Two says, and Vessel throws him grimace, face screwed up. “I’m sorry, babe, but it’s true. I spent most of my high school and uni years mooning over you, and you went and got two girlfriends, you fuck.” Next to him Three giggles, knocking their shoulders together. “Yeah, thank god for you, huh?”
“What’s that mean?” Ivy asks, curious, because he’s slowly filling in that space in his head, the one blocked out as Sleep’s Relationship Status, currently: I’m dating them?
“We started dating like, a week later,” Three says, waving a fork between him and Two, and beside Ivy Vessel makes an annoyed sound, like he’s heard this story before. “We’d talked about how we both liked Vess, and we were working out how to talk to him about it, when Mal and Rita came along and snatched him up, fucking bitches.” Vessel sighs, gives Three a look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Vessel says, shaking his head, and reaches across the table to take Three’s hand, uncurling his fingers, and Three holds on. “Go on, tell the rest.”
“And Vess got pissed at us, like he had any ground to stand on, and we… kinda moved out, just the two of us? It was rough, for a while.”
“Yeah, we weren’t on speaking terms,” Two says quietly, giving Vessel a soft look, one that Vessel returns. “Weird, for us, we’d always been in each other's pockets.”
“So what happened?” Ivy asks, carefully, because this story has to have a happy ending, if the way all three of them are now has anything to say.
“I had to leave,” Vessel says, simply, and there’s definitely history there, but Ivy doesn’t push, happy with what he’s been given today. He might tell him more, in the future, but that’s all Ivy needs for now. “We were together for a year and a half, maybe? Enough time for me to realise I’d fucked up.”
“We were living here, by then,” Two picks up, and starts collecting dishes, because they’ve all finished eating. Ivy gets up to help, but Three beats him to it. “And I always loved Vess, so I wasn’t gonna turn him away.”
Ivy sucks in a small breath, a little unsteady, because he’s heard them tell each other that. Little I love you’s, pressed between bodies in the hallway, shouted across the shop floor, whispered into someone’s hair. Ivy isn’t used to that, to freely given endearments, obvious fondness and devotion, and it still floors him when he hears it.
“Year later, old owner sold me the business, and we opened Sleep,” Vessel says, just the two of them at the table, turning to look at him. His smile is small and tender, sweet as fuck, and all for Ivy. “It was easy, when Three and Two invited me in, and we’ve been together ever since.”
That’s almost nine years of love, between the three of them, even before they started dating each other, and Ivy can’t help it when he asks, “anyone else ever been invited in?”
“With us?” Vessel asks, raising his eyebrows, and Ivy nods, blushing, because he has to know. “Not really, we’re in this together, so we decide together.” Vessel’s looking at Two and Three in the kitchen, watching them talk, Two scowling at something Three’s whispered. “There’s been a few flings, people that have caught our eye,” and he looks back at Ivy, eyes hot and wanting, and adds, “no one like you, Ivy.”
Oh.
“I’m gonna kiss you,” Ivy says, with conviction, and Vessel doesn’t stop him, breathing against his lips and sighing around his tongue, when Ivy licks into his mouth, and he practically crawls into his lap, trying to get as close as possible.
All in all it’s been good. Slow, and that’s a good thing, too, because it gives Ivy room to breathe, to figure himself out again. He’s relearning how to be a person, all by himself, while also letting himself get pulled into the rip of Vessel, Two and Three’s passion. It’s less the wild spark of a sudden blaze, the snappy thing he had with Bran, and more a smouldering burn of brush fire, healing and rejuvenating, wiping Ivy’s slate clean.
He remembers how much he likes the guitar, and plays whenever Vessel asks, the two of them finishing that song he’d written. And Vessel can sing, Jesus Christ can he sing, and the first time they play together Ivy feels his whole body get hot, with worship and love, because Vessel’s so beautiful when he plays, and it’s a little consuming, like a spell Ivy’s all too happy to fall under.
Ivy remembers the joy of riding with someone, when he backpacks Two, his arms around his middle, as they move as a unit through the countryside. Doesn’t even want to fool around on the side of the road, when they take a break to look over the farmlands, because he’s too busy enjoying Two’s genuine happiness, their helmets bumping when he demands they take a selfie and send it to the group chat.
He remembers how nice it is, to wake up next to another body, one that’s clinging on to him, unwilling to let the moment go. Ivy sleeps in Three’s bed the most, because it’s the biggest and he’s a massive bed hog, and they always go to sleep holding one another, and wake up just the same. Presses his lips to Three’s nose, his cheekbone, his fluttering eyes, until Three wakes up with a laugh, stinking of morning breath and tenderness.
“Hey,” Three whispers, blinking awake. “It's monday, the shop’s closed, why are you up?”
Because he needs to take a piss, but when Ivy had rolled over and looked at Three, he couldn’t help himself. “Maybe I wanna look at you, did you think about that?” Presses another kiss in between his eyebrows, and feels Three’s laugh against his throat. “Seriously, though, lemme go, I gotta take a leak.”
“Okay,” Three sighs, the melodramatic ass, and Ivy crawls out of the blankets, stumbling into the bathroom, and when he returns after washing his hands Three’s lying in his mountain of pillows, holding his phone, with such a soft look on his face that it makes Ivy’s heart squeeze, his ribs ache.
His dick thumps with arousal, his body getting hot, and it doesn’t help when Three looks at him, his smile small and genuine, want pouring through his body like an oil spill. “Coming to bed?”
Ivy stares at him, taking it in. They’ve all been dating for over three months now, and every second of it has been amazing, the things fairy tales are made of.
He decides he’s waited long enough.
“Yeah,” Ivy says, climbing under the covers, and doesn’t second guess himself when he pushes into Three’s space, sliding in between his open legs, and he drops his phone, hands coming up to pull Ivy closer. “I’m gonna kiss you.”
“Okay-” Three starts, doesn’t get to finish, because Ivy’s slotting their mouths together, breathing against his lips, full of warmth and syrupy lust, and he’s fucking hard, rocking his hips into Three’s. “Fuck,” Three gasps, hands clenching in Ivy’s hair, arching against Ivy’s body.
He’s hard, too, and that’s so fucking good.
“Have you,” Ivy tries to say, and Three lick’s into his mouth, sucks on his tongue, running a hot hand down his back and grabbing his ass. Ivy almost sobs, thighs tense, and manages, “lube? Condoms, Three, c’mon.”
“Yeah,” Three whispers, swatting a hand out and smacking at his bedside drawer, and Ivy pushes the blankets away, kneeling as he pulls his shirt over his head, before he leans down, pressing his lips to the delicate skin of Three’s belly, biting at his hip bone. “God, can you-” Ivy looks up at him, through his eyelashes, before shuffling down to mouth at the shape of Three’s dick, through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Ah-”
“Sorry,” Ivy says, even though he’s not, but he lets up anyway, because Three’s panting, and he’s imagined it enough - thought about Three’s hands, his mouth, the slick slide of his cock - and he needs it, wants it so fucking badly, because it’s Three, and Ivy craves him, all the goddamn time. “Wanna fuck me?”
Three blinks at him, eyes wide, and says, “yes.” Like it’s obvious.
Like he’s thought about it, too.
And he has, tells Ivy so, when he’s two fingers deep in his ass, curling against that spot in him that makes Ivy want to cry, want to sing praises, gut taut and dick kicking against his belly. Talks to him, as Ivy starts so sink down onto his lap, god, I’ve wanted this for so long, his cock hot and so fucking nice, look at you, Ivy, so lovely, and he could sob, so pretty, Ivy, fucking hell, as finally bottoms out, Three’s dick carving a path into his gut.
Shifts his hips, testing them, and Three pulls him close, hands around his face, brings him down for a kiss, and whispers, “I’ve got you.”
Ivy gasps, his cock jumping against his skin, and says, “I know,” before moving.
It’s less the soft slow sex he wanted, when he imagined his first time with any of them, and more the burning passion of waiting, and finding it worth it. Sets both of his hands against Three’s chest, fucking himself back onto his dick, and Three fucking cries, meeting him halfway.
It’s messy and sweaty and absolutely perfect, and when Three curls his hand around Ivy’s cock, he fucks into his fist, until his orgasm snaps in his belly, spilling over Three’s fingers and stomach.
Shakes his head no, when Three asks if he wants to stop, I’m fine, I don’t- before he blinks down at the mess on his belly, over his hand, and says, “are you still hard?”
“Yeah,” Ivy moans, still rocking back, Three’s dick still a solid shape in his ass, and from this angle it’s perfect. Three’s face is full of surprise and wonder, when he looks up at him. “Secret talent, baby.”
“Wow,” Three whispers, a little reverent, before his smile twists up at the ends, his hand squeezing. A cry falls from Ivy’s lips, his hips stuttering. “That’s dangerous, I hope you know I’m telling the others.”
“They can wait,” Ivy says, and doesn’t speak anymore, because Three tips them up, rolling Ivy under his body, before fucking into him like that.
It’s wonderful.
Ivy might be in love.
And that’s fine.
Except now the floodgates are open, and Ivy can’t get enough of any of them. The shop’s closed, and when Two and Three go out to get groceries he pushes Vessel onto the couch, begs to suck him off, and when he swallows around Vess’s cock he’s so desperate for it, full of hot longing that’s been building for months.
Makes Vess put his hands in his hair, pulling it, and asks for him to fuck his face, and the punched out sound that drops out of Vessel’s mouth is going straight to Ivy’s ego. Moans, around the slick slide of his cock over his tongue, throat working.
It’s good.
Stays the night again, sleeping in Two’s bed, and fucks the smaller man nice and slow, the way he wanted to, the way he imagined.
It’s actually the best.
He doesn’t have to hesitate, when Ivy grabs someone’s hand, because they always hold on first. Doesn’t have to second guess himself, when he sits down on the couch, because someone’s already made space for him.
Doesn’t question, when six months have passed by, and he’s definitely in deep.
They have fights, because they’re human, but they work it out at the end. That’s the part that really matters, to Ivy, because he never had an ounce of that with Bran, and it means so fucking much to him that they want to make it work. Two people in a relationship can be a lot, so with four different individuals miscommunication is bound to happen.
But they work it out.
-
“I’ve got breakfast when you’re ready, babe.”
“Cool, be there soon,” Ivy says, yawning as he climbs out of the shower, and Two says, sure, before ducking out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Three hands him a towel. “Thanks, doll.”
“Mhm,” Three says around his toothbrush, still blinking himself awake. Ivy doesn’t take it personally, drying himself before wrapping the towel around his waist, and stepping into the hall. Gets dressed, and Three walks back in just as he’s pulling a singlet over his head. “Excited?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says, and grabs a zip up hoodie, just to have something to wear until they get started. “Busy day?”
“I’m on walk-ins, but I have a consult at two,” Three says, finally getting changed, and Ivy swings past him, grabbing him in a full body hug. “Go eat, you’re gonna need it.”
Well, can’t argue that. Still, Ivy presses a kiss to Three’s jaw, before finally going to the kitchen.
Vessel’s starting colour on his neck tattoo today, and Ivy can’t wait. They’ve been dating for almost a year now, a solid unit orbiting each other and Sleep, and a month back Vessel did the line work.
It’s gonna be finished by the end of the day, and Vessel’s already gone down to the shop to set up; woke Ivy up when he left the bed, telling him he’d be waiting for him, and to take his time.
Next week is their one year anniversary, and they’re gonna take Vessel’s new bike out for a spin, Three backpacking with him and Two with Ivy. It’s gonna be absolute chaos, but Two has a vague plan formed up, and they’ve booked a cabin that the four of them are gonna stay in for the weekend; just them, whatever they can carry in their bags and trunks, and no one else.
Ivy can’t wait.