Chapter Text
Colin Bridgerton had lost many bets in his twenty-six years of life. Some he had thrown intentionally, like when he bet Daphne he could beat her at pall mall only to throw the game in the name of getting Anthony and Kate to finally talk to each other. Others had been heart-wrenching defeats, like when he bet Eloise he could beat her at pub trivia and she’d held it over his head for weeks. Really, he should have known better with that one.
And then there were the bets he made just in hopes of losing. It was, perhaps, the thing that most set him apart from his obscenely competitive family. Colin wasn’t above making a bet just to goad someone into action.
So, when he very loudly bet that Benedict wasn’t brave enough to finally tell Sophie how he felt, Colin had every desire to be proven wrong.
That didn’t make it any easier to take the penalty when he did lose.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased Benedict quite so much.
Still, Colin was never one to renege on a promise. So, with his head held high and his hands fidgeting by his sides, Colin followed Benedict and Eloise down the conspicuously mundane staircase and into the buzzing chaos of an underground tattoo parlor.
The first thing Colin noticed was the noise.
It was loud. Louder than he remembered, though he’d only been to the shop once when Hyacinth was old enough to get her first piercing without their mother’s permission. He winced as the door slammed shut behind them, Eloise instantly abandoning them to chat with the woman behind the counter.
Benedict hung back, waving to one of the men by the printer. Ben had started as an apprentice at the shop about six months ago and had absolutely flourished in the unconventional atmosphere. Anthony hadn’t been thrilled—very vocally suggesting that classical art would have reflected better on the family name—but he’d quickly relented once he realized that most of the perceived lawlessness of the business was more of a façade to draw in customers than lived reality.
It helped that Penelope worked there, too.
Sweet little Penelope Featherington who was more suited to be a romance novelist, a librarian, or a school teacher. Colin had hardly believed it when Ben told him that it was Penelope who got him the apprenticeship. Surely Pen—quiet, tattoo-free Penelope who had cried when she got her ears pierced at the mall kiosk—couldn’t work at a place like that. It hadn’t made sense—still didn’t, in truth—but Colin had sat through one lecture from Eloise when he first voiced his shock and he wasn’t about to risk another.
“Sorry for the noise.” Benedict put an arm around Colin’s shoulders and pulled him forward from where’d he’d frozen just inside the entryway. “Fife insists on using a coil gun. Thinks it makes him look cool.”
“Is it?” Colin didn’t know enough about tattoos to know what that even meant. “Cool, I mean.”
Benedict scoffed. “No. Just fucking loud.”
“Hopelessly predictable, if you ask me,” Eloise interjected, leaning with her back against the counter as Colin and Benedict joined her. “Least you’re not sitting with him.”
“Who am I sitting with?” Colin asked, trying his best not to sound as nervous as he felt.
The deal had been that if Ben won the bet, he could pick Colin’s first tattoo. It had to be something from an artist’s flash sheets—to prevent anything too humiliating—and Colin refused to let Ben be the artist in question even though he’d moved on from fake skin weeks ago. Placement, size, and any other details were up to Colin, but Benedict and Eloise both insisted on coming with to make sure he actually went through with it and didn’t just claim to get a tattoo somewhere easy to hide so he didn’t have to show them.
As nervous as he was, Colin recognized that the terms of the deal gave him much more control than most Bridgerton bets. He wasn’t sure if that was because Ben was grateful for the push in his relationship or was simply taking pity on him. Either way, Colin was glad things weren’t as bad as they could have been.
“That would be me,” a familiar voice spoke up from behind the counter to answer his question.
Colin looked up, startled to see Penelope making her way over to them, a large black binder tucked under her arm.
He’d never seen her at work before. Her outfit was much edgier than he was used to seeing the few times she’d been to Sunday brunch—though it would be more fair to say the few times he’d been to brunch; she was a more permanent fixture in his family than he was. Either way, Colin had certainly never seen her looking quite as bold as she did then, wearing a candy red babydoll dress, black tights, and Doc Martens. The bright lights of the shop made the freckles on her shoulders and cheeks stand out, exposed by her fiery red hair which was pulled back in a loose bun.
“Pen.” Colin put on an easy smile, actively working to keep his gaze on her face and not falling…lower. “I don’t know whether to feel relieved or betrayed that it’s you.”
“Tell me after we’re done.” She winked as she set out the book of flash designs in front of his siblings, but Colin noticed her purse her lips slightly as if she wasn’t thrilled at being roped into this, either.
“It’s fine.” Colin shrugged. He leaned against the counter and made a point not to look at the designs over his siblings’ shoulders. “I trust you.”
Penelope chuckled. “I’m not sure it’s me you should be worried about.”
As if on cue, Eloise waved Penelope over and pointed at one of designs in the book. Penelope’s expression didn’t give anything away as she looked at the design Eloise and Ben had chosen. Instead, she simply nodded and took the booklet back.
“Do I get to know my fate?” Colin asked, directing the question to Penelope.
“Nope.” Benedict crossed his arms and blocked Pen from his line of sight. “You can make requests once the stencil’s on.”
“How generous.” Colin rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers on the counter.
From the other side of the counter, Penelope sidestepped back into view. “Did you have a location and size in mind?”
“I’ve heard here doesn’t hurt much.” Colin gestured to his upper arm. “Don’t really know about size, though. Not huge, but it feels like a waste if it’s too small, you know?”
Penelope shrugged, clearly amused by his response. “How about I pick a size that will work with your body and we can make adjustments from there?”
“Sure.” Colin nodded, not quite sure what she meant but she was the professional. He figured it’d be best to follow her lead.
Gesturing for them to sit on the obnoxiously large pleather couch, Penelope headed back towards the printers. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
Colin took a seat on the couch while Benedict and Eloise made themselves at home in the shop—El back to flirting with the shop manager and Ben gone to talk to another one of the artists. It was strange sitting there, loud buzzing filling Colin’s ears, as he took in the eclectic chaos of the shop. Everywhere he looked the walls, the floor, the windowsills were all covered with artwork and niche pop culture memorabilia. There was a life-sized Chucky doll peeking out from behind a withering houseplant, a ghostface mask hanging off of the chance tattoo vending machine. Colin even thought he saw a row of muppet bobbleheads perched on the back dividing wall between each artists’ stations, but it was difficult to be sure from across the room.
Amidst his scrutiny of the shop, Colin kept glancing back at Penelope.
She looked at ease in a way he hadn’t expected. She joked with the shop manager and other artists, nodding along to the music that was barely audible over the incessant buzzing of Fife’s machine. If someone had asked Colin five years ago what it would be like to see Penelope Featherington walk into a tattoo parlor, he’d have imagined her nervous, intimidated, and wide-eyed at the edgy nature of it all.
How ironic that he was the one, then, almost completely overwhelmed.
But, then again, maybe that wasn’t quite fair of him. After all, he and Penelope weren’t really close enough for him to make that kind of assumption. They were friends, sure. They had been friends for over a decade since he’d quite literally run into her while trying to race his brothers home from the park one day. But they weren’t close, not anymore, at least. As they got older, Eloise had demanded more of her time and Colin became preoccupied with fitting in with boys his age. They kept in touch when he went to university but even that had fallen by the wayside after he dropped out to travel. He had wanted to keep up their friendship, had even tried sending postcards and a few letters here and there, but it was hard to maintain any sort of communication when backpacking through the most remote places he could find.
He missed her, then, but it always felt too selfish to say so when he had been the one to put that distance between them. He couldn’t blame her for not jumping for joy when he abruptly moved back to London at the beginning of the year.
He had to admit, it was…strange seeing her be so much closer with his family than he was. Stranger still was how well they knew her when he felt like little more than an acquaintance.
So, Colin was excited for the chance to talk to her, even in this unusual setting. Even if that made him a little bit nervous, too.
“You can come on back,” Penelope called out to him from across the counter.
Colin stood immediately, wiping his hands on his jeans as he slipped back behind the counter to follow her to her station.
“Just Colin.” Penelope stepped around him to point at where Benedict and Eloise had started to follow. “I don’t trust you two not to distract me.”
“You’ve let me watch you work before,” Benedict protested above Eloise’s much more unfounded complaints.
Penelope crossed her arms and didn’t budge. “When you were on the clock.”
Colin fought the urge to stick out his tongue at his siblings as they retreated back around to the waiting area.
“Must be rough having him watch over your shoulder all the time,” Colin remarked as shrugged off his jacket, waiting in his tank top for Penelope to put on her gloves and trim the edges of the stencil.
“I don’t mind,” Penelope admitted. “You’d be surprised how many people bring an entire entourage with them.”
Colin cocked his head, confused. “Then why—”
“Stand up straight.” He did as she asked, tensing ever so slightly as she pressed the stencil onto his arm. She answered as she started to peel it away, “I didn’t think you’d want them teasing you every time you flinched.”
Colin put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Do you really think so little of me?”
“Tattoos are painful, Colin,” she replied, completely deadpan. He rolled his eyes and her expression softened. “There’s no shame in admitting something hurts.”
“Says the tattoo artist with no tattoos,” Colin shot back playfully. It felt good to joke with her again. They hardly ever spoke to each other one-on-one anymore.
To his dismay, though, her shoulders stiffened at his remark. Her smile remained on her lips as she pushed him towards a mirror. “It’s your lack of tattoos we’re worrying about today.”
“Don’t remind me,” Colin groaned, reluctantly turning to look at the stencil in the mirror.
The design Ben and Eloise had chosen was simple enough. An American traditional style swallow with a cheesy pirate hat on its head. It wasn’t anything embarrassing nor did it have any real significance to him, though he was sure they’d chosen it to make some jibe about him always flying off to new adventures. It certainly wasn’t something he would have picked for himself.
Penelope must have seen the hesitation in his face.
“We don’t have to do this.” She put her hand on his arm, the latex gloves cool against his skin. “I can tell them my machine’s acting up, or we can change the design.”
“They’d probably make me get it later if I tried to get something else now.” Colin shook his head, turning slightly in the mirror to try and get used to the image of the bird on his arm. It fit the soft swell of his bicep better than he imagined. “As much as I appreciate the offer, if you bow out, Ben might insist on doing it himself.”
“He’s very skilled.” Penelope caught his eye in the mirror for a moment before turning and adjusting the tools laid out on her station. “You’d be in good hands.”
With one last look over the stencil, Colin sat in the partially reclined chair across from Penelope. “I’d rather it be you.”
“Any changes with the stencil?” Penelope asked as if she hadn’t heard him but Colin could see the slight blush on her cheeks.
He couldn’t help but grin at that; she used to always flush bright red around him when they were younger, before his friends teased him about how uncool it was to spend so much time with his little sister and her friend. He hadn’t realized quite how long it had been since he’d seen her blush like that.
“No,” Colin replied with another glance down at his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Are you sure?” Penelope sat and picked up her machine, not yet turning it on. “I was thinking full color. It’ll take a bit longer than if we did black and grey, but it’ll heal bolder.”
“Told you, I trust you, Pen.” Colin nodded. “Go for it.”
“And I told you to wait,” Penelope muttered under her breath.
Colin’s responding laughter was interrupted by the soft humming of her machine. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the god awful buzz that had greeted him at the door, but it was still enough to make his muscles tense.
“I’ll start with the line work and if it’s too much we can reschedule to finish the color.” Penelope pressed her hand against his arm, stretching the skin, but still didn’t lift the needle. “We have a numbing cream we could use for that if it hurts too much. It has to sit for half an hour, so I can’t use it now.”
“It’s okay.” Colin leaned his head back against the headrest. “You know I’d never hear the end of it if we did that.”
When he looked down at her he was surprised to find her expression steady, only the smallest furrowing of her brow. He felt a bit untethered when he realized her hesitation and slight rambling was meant to calm him down. The Penelope he knew was constantly in need of reassuring, not the other way around.
The thought unnerved him even more.
He didn’t know her anymore.
“Come on, Featherington.” Colin cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Let’s get this over with.”
She studied his face another moment then nodded. “You asked for it.”
The first line was painful.
The second hurt even worse.
The scrape of the towel over fresh ink was excruciating.
“You okay, Col?” Penelope asked, pausing before diving in for a third line.
“I thought this was an easy spot?” Colin chuckled, trying not to flinch when she wiped at his arm again.
“It helps to breathe.” She smiled apologetically. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
“You’re fine.” Colin waited until she pulled away for more ink after the third line to shrug. “Thanks for keeping Ben and El out. I can wince in peace.”
She hummed a quiet response, the corners of her mouth lifting up into a slight smile. Two more lines. Colin tried to pace his breathing with the pull of the needle across his skin. It really did help.
“Not afraid to wince in front of me?” Penelope asked after a moment, her eyes flicking up to his face as she gathered more ink.
“Never.” Colin grinned even though it was a lie.
There was a time, before he left for university—earlier than he’d like to admit, really—that Colin would’ve opened up to Penelope about anything. But acquaintances didn’t unburden themselves on each other like that. It was too intimate. Too close for the distance that had grown between them.
Sometimes Colin wished they had fallen apart painfully. That the break in their childish closeness had hurt like a needle digging into his skin. It would’ve been better than the emptiness. It would’ve been proof that what they lost mattered. It would’ve been easier to know if she felt it, too.
But he didn’t say any of that—couldn’t, wouldn’t say any of that. Instead, she wiped away the excess ink and he said, “I’m starting to think you enjoy this.”
“I do love my job,” Penelope replied with a playful grin, “but for the art, not the pain.”
“Sure.” He squinted at her in faux skepticism. “Why do you like it? I was surprised when Ben told me you worked here.”
Colin wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he saw her flinch. Before he could take the question back, however, she answered, “The art, like I said, and also the people. I’m always so awkward around people, but here, I can help make their ideas come to life. I get to hear their stories and know that I’m helping to keep those stories alive.”
“Like my grand adventurous pirate bird.” Colin nodded solemnly.
“Not every tattoo has to mean something.” She rolled her eyes even though the retort sounded more heated than he’d expected. “Sometimes the experience can be the story.”
“Like this?”
Penelope grinned in earnest, brushing some sort of gel over his skin before she continued. He blamed his goosebumps on the fact that it was cold. “Yeah, like this.”
“I’m glad you’re part of the story, then,” Colin remarked before he could think better of it. There was something about the growing pain and the tender pressure of her gloved fingers over his skin that made him want to tell her more than he should. Especially since his words made her blush return.
“Just a few more lines left,” Penelope mumbled, ducking her head as she continued her work.
They sat in silence, then, as she finished the linework. It wasn’t uncomfortable—even with the buzz of Fife’s coil machine starting back up across the room—it was just…familiar. Like nearly eight years hadn’t passed since he’d last sat quietly in her presence just to find some peace. When the last of the stencil’s outlines had been made permanent, he was truly disappointed to see her sit back and start to take off her gloves.
“We can do the color today, too,” Colin offered, wanting to prolong the moment even through the ache in his arm. “If you have time.”
“I think we should take a break.” Penelope glanced pointedly down at his hands which had been clenched the entire time. “I have to get out the colors, anyway.”
“Yeah, sure.” Colin felt somewhat embarrassed at his own eagerness. “I should probably show those two I haven’t chickened out.”
“Don’t touch it,” Penelope called out as he stood and stretched.
It hadn’t been very long at all, but the tension from the pain and the rawness of his skin had already left him stiff and achy. He used the short walk back up to the waiting area to try and shake off the tension. Once there, he was met by surprise and enthusiastic laughter as Eloise and Benedict looked over the progress of his tattoo. Their amusement and teasing was jarringly loud. Not any louder or bolder than usual, not really, but in contrast to the hypnotic hum of Penelope’s tattoo machine and the comforting softness of her voice, his siblings’ enthusiasm felt…too much.
Colin was more than a little grateful when Penelope walked up to the counter and waved him back again.
“Last chance,” Penelope offered with a smile as he settled back into his seat. “Black and grey is faster, if you’re ready to run out of here.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Colin shook his head. “Make me bold, Featherington.”
“When are you not?” Penelope let out a small laugh before wiping his skin with a damp towel.
The pain was worse when she began to fill in all of the spaces yet untouched between the lines. Colin flinched on her second pass and Penelope paused. She met his gaze, her pale blue eyes silently asking if he was alright.
He answered her spoken, albeit rhetorical, question instead, “More often than I’d like to admit.”
She cocked her head to the side and put her free hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to stop?”
He wasn’t sure if she was asking about the tattoo or not.
“Bit late for that now, Pen.” He wasn’t sure if he was, either.
The moment was swiftly broken as Pen ducked her head and returned to her work. The pain continued to build with each pass of color and swipe of her towel, but Colin focused on the soft weight of her arm against his, timing his own breathing with the warm puff of air from her lips to his skin.
It was hypnotic. It was excruciating. He wanted to be finished immediately yet stay in that moment forever.
The color took longer than the linework, but it was still over far too soon. Colin and Penelope didn’t talk much. She double checked her plan for the colors once and asked him if he was okay more times than he could count—more times than anyone ever had, so far as he could remember—and he coaxed her into telling a couple of stories about her more eccentric clients.
He asked if she ever thought about getting a tattoo of her own and she asked why he decided to move back home.
Neither of them really answered.
By the time she had finished and wrapped his tattoo, Colin’s entire body was sore from the pain and nerves, but he felt more invigorated than he had in months. Longer, really.
“So, did I live up to all that trust?” Penelope asked as Colin looked at the bird through the clear wrapping. Her tone was light, but he could see her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in the mirror across from them.
Colin nodded, fully intending to tell her how much he loved it—it really was bold and classic in the best way—but what came out of his mouth instead was, “I missed you.”
Penelope froze, one glove off, the other pinched between her fingers. Colin was just about to either apologize or answer the question she’d actually asked, when she finished taking off her second glove and replied, “I’m glad you’re home.”
He smiled at her through the mirror, grin widening when her cheeks flushed red again. “And it’s perfect, thank you.”
“Leave a good review.” She threw up a mock salute and then visibly cringed at herself. They both burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh with her again. Eventually, though, they settled and she waved him off towards the counter. “I have to clear up here, but I’ll meet you up front.”
Colin was still smiling when he joined Benedict and Eloise back up at the front of the shop. He let them joke and scrutinize the tattoo, grinned and pouted exaggeratedly for the pictures they wanted to send to the group chat, and very stoically brushed off their questions about how much it hurt. It wasn’t long before Penelope met them up by the register, a flyer and tube of tattoo goo in her hands.
“Read these, use this, don’t complain to me if you don’t.” Penelope handed Colin the tube and flyer about tattoo aftercare. “Come back in a month if you need any touch ups.”
Benedict leaned on the counter while Penelope rang up the tattoo. “Pen’s never had anyone come back for touch ups.”
“I’m good at what I do.” Penelope smirked even through her blush. “But seriously, don’t hesitate to come back if you see something you want fixed.”
“I will.” Colin nodded, surprised by how strange it sounded to hear his brother call her Pen. “See you at brunch this week?”
“Of course.” Penelope waved the three of them off as someone at the back of the shop called for her attention. “See you then.”
Colin couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed at the jokes and teasing from his siblings as they made their way back out onto the street. His arm hurt like hell, he was stiff from sitting still for so long, but he couldn’t stop smiling down at the silly little bird on his arm.
Maybe losing that bet wasn’t so bad after all.