Patrick O'Shea (inkinc) wrote in supernextdoor, @ 2012-07-03 17:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | 10.16.11, ashlee, ashlee and patrick, patrick |
The girl I'm into isn't interested
Who: Ashlee and Patrick
What: Practice makes perfect...
Where: Ink Inc
When: 10.16.11 - Sunday night, 11pm
Warnings: Smidgens of almost nudity
Ashlee had only been working for Patrick for two days, and she already knew it was the best decision she’d ever made. The studio was ten times more relaxed than her old one, and Patrick was much more pleasant to be around than Finn. They’d had a pretty quiet weekend - bad for business, good for her, and she’d caught up on all the housekeeping-type things that needed to be done for the day. They had two hours left before close, but unless they had a walk-in, all they had to do was close the shop. She was curled up in one of the piercing chairs, sketchbook propped on her lap, working on a large skull with trailing hair. Or maybe being consumed by flames. She hadn’t quite decided yet. She tilted her head, chewing on the end of her pen as she considered the drawing, half-inked, the other half still rough pencil lines. Her toes tapped in time with the music playing, the stickers on the white toes of her beat up Chuck Taylors shining under the bright lights of the parlour.
Patrick was bored off his ass and sprawled across his chair, leaning back over it bonelessly and swiveling it back and forth to the beat thumping through the speakers. Sunday nights were boring as fuck. They had been since the opening of the shop and he was tempted to shorten the hours on Sunday and lengthen Fridays. People had work on Monday and didn't want to bother with getting tattoos late right when the week was starting. It was something to think about surely. He let out a sigh and stood up from his chair, needing to walk or smoke or something to occupy himself. Heading across the way to Ashlee, he peered over her shoulder at the skull taking up the page. "That's pretty fuckin' awesome," he commented, taking in the detail of her design. "Now ye' just gotta put it in tattoo form."
Ashlee grinned, trying not to blush as Patrick leaned over her shoulder, instead tilting the sketchbook so he could see it better. “Thanks,” she murmured, looking up at him. “I just gotta find someone to convince to let me tattoo ‘em.” She’d tattooed herself, of course - werefox healing meant that they’d fade pretty quickly. But it was different to tattooing someone else - especially considering the only place she’d inked herself was her thighs; easy to reach, and she could hide them if she fucked up. She’d done a few flash pieces, simple things that got her used to the way of things, but it wasn’t the same. She hadn’t put her art on anyone. And that was the whole reason she’d gotten into tattooing in the first place.
"Tattoo me," he suggested. He didn't think it was a big deal really. She'd had practice, no doubt, on plenty of things whether it was herself or pig flesh. He trusted she wasn't an amateur, regardless of how little human specimens she might have had the chance to work with. "I trust ye'. Besides, if ye' fuck it up, I can take it out of your pay," he teased. He didn't think it would really be that much of a problem.
Ashlee blinked at him for a moment. “Seriously?” She squeaked. “You’d let me tattoo you? I mean, not that I’ll fuck it up, I just...um...yeah.” She blushed a little. “Sorry. Babbling. Do you want this one?” She tilted the page, gesturing to the skull. “Or something else? Because I can totally do something else.” She would happily tattoo anything, if it meant she had her hands on a tattoo gun and a real living person. She was tempted to just hand him her sketchbook and let him choose, but there were a couple of sketches of him in there that, while not incriminating, were still a little wierdly stalkerish.
"Yeah," he told her with a shrug as he let his hands find the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off and tossing it onto the table nearest them. "You're my apprentice. I've got t' have th' balls t' let ye' tattoo me or I don't need t' have ye' as my student," he told her honestly. There were no two ways about it. If he couldn't stand behind her work, he didn't need to have her as an apprentice. "I like th' skull," he told her. Now if he could think of a place to put it. "Maybe here?" he said, shifting to stand more in front of her than behind and indicating his lower stomach on the left side of his body. "Plenty of room t' work with," he explained.
Ashlee gaped a little as he stripped off. She’d known he was in good shape, the t-shirt hadn’t disguised that, but this was ridiculous. At least she could pretend it was because of the art - she’d seen his sleeve, and the top of his arm before, but not the parts that spread onto his chest. “Who did that?” She said, nodding to the stark black design over the left side of his chest. All his tattoos were gorgeous, if she was honest, but she preferred black and grayscale over color tattoos. And wow, she was getting totally distracted from the whole point of him being topless. “Um, sorry.” she sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears as she tried to look at him as a tattoo artist, rather than as a hormonal woman. “Yeah, ok, that placement should work. You want me to do it now?” It was quiet, after all.
He couldn't help but preen a little to himself when she gaped at him the way she did. He pretended, however, not to notice her interest in his body, no matter how obvious it was to the Irishman. "A guy named Cian," he told her. "I apprenticed under him. He did th' black design, more into th' grayscale and black than color," he explained. As for whether or not he wanted her to do it now, he shrugged. "Sure," he said. "We're slow, not like anyone's gonna come in here anyway. Sundays are always like this," he admitted.
She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yeah, it’s cleaner, more classic,” she murmured, agreeing with Cian, whoever he was. And the black ink looked gorgeous against his skin, too. “Okay, just lemme get this drawn up...you want it this size? Or smaller?” It would be pretty big on his side, the size it was now. Not that she’d mind, but if he was planning on getting more work done, it might be an issue.
"Fairly big is fine," he told her, moving to one of the cleaned and ready to go stations in the shop, setting up one of the gurney like seats for him to sit on while she tattooed him. "I'll get everythin' set up for ye'," he said, glancing over at the girl as he put the brakes on the gurney. "You're ready for this," he told her, flashing her a grin. He didn't want her nervous not only because she'd be working on him but because he knew she had it in her to do this tattoo and likely do an amazing job of it.
Ashlee nodded, her attention already on the transfer paper, copying the design out carefully. She shed her sweatshirt as she sat down at the station, adjusting the stool until she was at a comfortable height. I.e., much higher than Patrick would ever need it. She stood up long enough to place the paper on his side, smoothing it out, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. “Um. Pants are gonna have to come down,” she said, flushing just a little. A random customer was one thing - her totally smoking hot boss in his underwear was quite another.
Patrick didn't really mind having to shift his pants. He undid the button and the zipper and pushed them down a little on his hips. He pushed his boxers down a little too so that she' had enough room to get the transfer onto his skin. "You're blushin'," he commented, smirking just a little. "You act like you've never seen a man in his skivvies b'fore."
Ashlee stuck her tongue out at him, before turning her attention to his side, carefully placing the paper down against his skin, smoothing it out slowly. “Yeah, seeing my boss in his skivvies is a little different to anyone else. Besides,” she grinned, carefully peeling the paper off as she spoke, leaving the design behind. “I’m usually pretty distracted by the time a guy’s this naked.” Not that she’d mind if Patrick wanted to distract her...but nope, she’d already told herself off, rather sternly, for having those kind of thoughts about her boss. Setting the transfer paper aside, she reached for the hand sanitiser, cleaning her hands carefully before grabbing a pair of gloves. “You happy with the placement?” She asked, nodding at the skull.
Her words had him arching a brow at her. Why would a guy be this naked when around her? He'd thought she was a lesbian after her words about her ex-girlfriend and how much of a bitch she was. This was a new development. "So I take it you're not a lesbian then, huh?" he questioned. "I have t' admit that I assumed ye' were after our conversation th' other day," he explained. "Which probably makes me sound like an assumin' arse, but at least I'm honest." As for the placement, he turned to face the mirror and glanced over the design. "Yeah, looks good," he told her, sitting on the gurney and laying back against the cushioned edge of it.
“Nah, I’m just greedy,” Ashlee said, grinning. “I don’t blame you, I was bitching about my ex.” She fell silent for a moment, fiddling with the gun until she was happy with it, dipping it into the ink and testing it a couple of time, before beginning the linework on the skull. “I think I watched Chasing Amy at an impressionable age,” she said, still smirking a little. “It hit home. Like, yeah, you see people and you’re attracted to them. But it’s faces, or personalities, not cocks and boobs. And relationships are built on who people are, not what they look like.” She shrugged a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she bent over his stomach, careful working on the tattoo. “Why cut out 50% of people who could be the love of my life, just because they’ve not got the ‘right’ equipment?”
She had a point, he supposed. Patrick didn't really have a problem with gay men or women for that matter, but he'd never been attracted to men personally. It was a personal preference. "Well ye' can have my share of cocks then," he smirked. "I don't want them." He flashed a smile at her as he settled in and let her work, not wanting to distract the girl from what she was doing. He noted her steady hand, however, and was pleased.
“Somehow I don’t think the guys who might have been attracted to you, will be attracted to me.” Because yeah, there wasn’t any competition. She’d had two days to sit and watch Patrick work, and seeing him charm the customers, seeing how many girls came in and offered to strip rather necessarily thoroughly for tattoos, had been an eye-opener. And she...really wasn’t all that special. Take away the flaming hair, and she was a mousy girl who had a bad habit of turning into a fox when she was bored.
"Well I'm pretty sure you've got your share of people attracted t' ye', little one," he told her. She was tiny and adorable and hot all at the same time. She might have thought it was difficult to work with him, but it wasn't so easy to work with her when he was half tempted to come onto the girl. He liked her and could admit that she was attractive. But he'd have to explain all of his protector bullshit to her before he could even consider telling her he thought she was pretty. And as soon as she figured the protector bit out, she'd think he was crazy and up and leave.
“I’m an asshole magnet,” She replied, pouting exaggeratedly, still keeping her eyes on his stomach rather than his face, carefully holding the skin taut as she went over the lines of the transfer, wiping away the excess ink every so often. She still got a total buzz from watching her art slowly develop on someone’s skin, from knowing it was permanent. “I need a break from dating. My last three exes have all been certifiable. I figure I need some time off, get myself sorted out.” Plus, she had more than enough to contend with, looking after her little sister and holding down a job.
"Understandable," he told her, trying not to sound disappointed by her 'I need a break from dating' speech. He didn't need to mix protecting with dating anyway. It was a recipe for disaster no doubt and she wasn't interested. Keeping it platonic was likely the best bet for the both of them. "So datin' has really been all that bad?" he asked her, being nosy because he felt like it.
“My most recent ex tried to blame her cheating with 4 other women, and 3 guys, on the fact that I couldn’t come when she went down on me.” Ashlee shook her head, just a little, still never taking her eyes off the design. “Like it had nothing to do with the fact that her idea of licking someone out is doing an impression of a Labrador with a drooling problem.” Because yeah, it...really hadn’t been fun. Ever. She wasn’t sure why she’d ever put up with that. “The one before that...she was a good little WASP, and I was her dirty little secret, right up until they announced her engagement in like, Country Living or something.” She didn’t remember the name of the magazine - didn’t care, really. But some ‘kind-hearted’ friends had pointed it out to her. “The guy before that was just a douche.” And she had a longer list, all fairly similar. Ashlee had pretty spectacularly bad taste in partners.
Patrick blinked a little at the first thing she said. Goddamn it. Now he was thinking about her naked and being eaten out. Of course in his mental image it was him doing the eating and he certainly had a better technique than the woman in question. He shook his head a little to rid himself of the thought and swallowed down, doing what he could to convince himself that thinking things like that did not make them so. "Ouch," he murmured. "Sounds like relationships have been shite for ye'," he sighed. "You'll find someone sooner or later, love. You'll see."
Ashlee shrugged, clearly not particularly bothered by the thought of being alone. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I’ve got way too much on right now to worry about right now to think about dating, anyway.” That was always the other obstacle, of course; she had her little sister to worry about, to look after. “My parents died seven years ago, so it’s just me and my little sister.” She was always pretty upfront about that, too. “Not to be a downer, but yeah.” She glanced up at him, smiling a little. “It’s near enough to Thanksgiving now that new people start asking where I’m spending the holidays, and I hate making people feel like shit for asking then, so...” she shrugged. Winter wasn’t great for Ashlee or her sister - they’d lost their parents the week before Christmas, so it wasn’t as if they had much to look forward to.
"Well then ye' should spend th' holidays with me," he said. "I mean, I know that sounds kind of forward and strange most likely, but I spend th' holidays alone too," Patrick explained. "My dad died in a car accident before I was born and my mother had a heart attack a few years back. She had t' have surgery t' fix what was wrong and it went poorly. Malpractice," he sighed. "So Believe me, I understand how aggravatin' it can be t' have t' explain shite t' people who don't understand. If ye' and your sister need somewhere t' be for th' holidays, you're welcome t' come spend some time here with me."
He was right, it did sound forward at first. But when he explained, talked about his father and mother being dead, it made sense. “I’d like that,” she nodded, smiling as she bent her head over her work again, smoothing away ink, carefully tracing her linework, the skull gradually taking shape on his stomach and hip. “I was gonna ask you about my sister, actually...” she murmured, chewing on her lower lip in concentration. “I don’t like leaving her alone so much, but I didn’t want her around Finn.” Her old boss had been a creep, and she didn’t want her sister seeing that. “I was wondering if it’d be ok if she was here for a couple of hours after school each day? She’s a good kid, I promise, she’ll stay out the way and do homework and stuff.” She’d understand if he said no, of course. But it’d mean she got to see her sister a little more, and Alyson wouldn’t be spending so much time by herself in the house.
Patrick was glad when she agreed. He knew it likely sounded strange until he'd give her a reason. Being alone for the holidays blew and by the time they rolled around, they'd both know each other better. Surely that would make things less creepy. When she asked about her sister, Patrick smiled at her. "Yeah," he said. "She's more than welcome t' come along if she wants," he told Ashlee. It sounded like she was old enough to at least be alone in her own home so he wasn't too worried about the girl getting in the way. "If she doesn't want t' be out here in th' noise, she can hang out in th' office," he offered. "It's quieter."
“Thanks,” Ashlee grinned at him, more relieved than she’d admit by his reaction. Because yeah, it actually meant a lot that he was willing to let her sister hang out a little. She moved a little lower on the tattoo, her arm resting on his thigh, working on the jaw of the skeleton. It was going to look awesome once she was done, and Ashlee was having a hard time not bouncing with glee. This was her design, her work, on a tattoo artist she admired the work of. It meant a hell of a lot that Patrick was willing to let her do this at all.
"No problem," he assured her, glancing down at her work but trying not to let her notice him doing it. She was doing an amazing job and the more the tattoo developed, the more happy he was with it. He liked the way she shaded, the way the shadows gave the image depth. No doubt the girl was good. Learning easily and quickly. He'd made the right decision in hiring her, he knew.
Ashlee wasn’t even really aware of the hot semi-naked guy she was leaning on anymore. Not beyond the conversation, beyond the picture slowly developing under her hands. The body beyond that was abstract, irrelevant. Probably a good thing, considering the way she was leaning over him, twisting round to get a look from a different angle, leaning her forearm across his hips as she worked more definition into the eye-sockets of the skull. “So how come you became a tattoo artist?” She asked after a minute, to fill the silence.
"I always liked art," he told her. "In high school I skipped a lot of class and smoked a lot of weed," he explained. "About th' only class that I attended regularly was art and after a while it was really th' only thing that made sense to me. I didn't give a damn about algebra or any of that shite. I wanted t' draw. Eventually I thought why not put my art t' use, put it on people. Make it immortal. He shrugged a little. "I guess it has a lot t' do with my dad dyin' so young. I wanted a piece of me here when I go. Now there are billions."
“I’d offer to hug you,” Ashlee joked, smiling sympathetically, “but I don’t wanna jab you in the neck with the gun.” It was touching that he was sharing this kind of thing with her, but it made her sad, too. The thought of Patrick being as alone as she felt sometimes, just wasn’t right. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth as she leant closer, dark ink smears obscuring the work a little, Ashlee going more on instinct with some parts of the shading, rather than strictly following the linework transfer she’d put down.
Patrick smiled at her and shook his head. "Nah," he told her. "Wouldn't want t' be stabbed if I can avoid it," he grinned. He'd gotten into plenty of fights over the years and had his share of scars but he'd like to keep the adding of more down to a minimum if at all possible. He glanced down at her work again, smiling a bit more broadly. "You're doin' an awesome job," he commented. "I really like it."
That compliment made her blush a little. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing up at him just for a moment. She sat back, wiping the back of her hand against her forehead, pushing her bangs out of the way. It was about time she switched needles - she wasn’t going to be doing any more fine work, it was mostly shading, filling in the eyeholes and the dark strands of hair on the skull. She busied herself with that, carefully unscrewing the single point she’d been working with, switching to a five point. “This is gonna have to be recorded for posterity,” she pronounced firmly, grinning. “My First Tattoo.”
"Well it is recorded," he grinned at her. "Permanently etched on me. Now that I think of it, you're th' only female t' tattoo me," he admitted. "Cian and an old friend of mine are th' only others that I've got artwork done by. I guess I'm picky or somethin' but ah well. I made a good choice with this one." He didn't doubt that in the slightest. He was more than pleased with Ashlee's artwork.
“I still want a photo for my portfolio.” Which was...depressingly empty, right now. She was trying not to think about the fact that he was picky about what he had done, about the fact that he’d apparently trusted her enough to let her ink him. Testing the gun once she’d swapped out the needles, she took a second to clean off his skin, wiping it down before going back to work. “And thanks. I’m glad you like it.” She grinned. “So far, at least. I’m not done, yet.”
"You'll have your picture," he assured her. He didn't mind letting her display his body for her portfolio. The fact that it was her first tattoo to be entered into it was even more reason for him being glad he trusted her with the tattoo. If the first was this good, she'd only go up from here. She was definitely the sort who was going places. And she was his apprentice. He felt a little gleeful over that if he was being honest. "It's already awesome so I doubt it's goin' t' get anythin' but more awesome," he assured her. "So, why did you get into tattooing?" he asked her.
“I loved art at school,” Ashlee said, smiling a little. “Like you, I guess. Never enjoyed anything else. Then...” she shrugged. “Mom and Dad died, I dropped out of school, got a job working nights on reception at a 24-hour tattoo place. That way I could be there when Alyson got up for school, and when she got home again.” It hadn’t been easy, but they’d managed. “Eventually I persuaded Finn to give me a job as an apprentice, and...well, yeah. Here I am.”
"Well hopefully this'll be a better fit for ye' than Finn's place. He can be a real tool." Which was honestly a lot nicer a word than he'd really wanted to use but he was feeling a little generous that night. "You're already livenin' th' place up," he admitted, flashing her a smile. "It's nice t' have someone so bubbly around."
“You say that now,” Ashlee teased, “just wait until you’re hungover and I’m loud and bouncy.” Because yeah, sometimes she got on people’s nerves. She didn’t care. Shouting at her just made her louder. Or made her want to go crawl into a corner and shift into her fox form. Patrick hadn’t seen that yet, but if it kept being this quiet, she’d likely end up curling up for a nap on a Sunday evening.
He chuckled at that. "You're likely right," he admitted. "I'll have t' remember t' not schedule you for days when I plan t' drink th' night before." Not that he really thought she'd be all that bad. She was a sweet girl and he liked her. And besides, he wanted her around, whether he was hungover or not.
“Good plan, bossman,” she agreed, chuckling softly. Her hair alone had driven her coworkers to wear sunglasses inside when they were hungover, let alone her loud voice and demeanor. “Is it wrong that I’m tempted to put my initials on this?” She glanced up at him, grinning cheekily. She wouldn’t, of course, but she was damn proud of the skull. It was her piece from start to finish, the first thing she’d ever inked on someone that hadn’t been a piece of flash art.
"You can if ye' want," he told her. "I don't mind." She was already a part of him, she might as well get to initial her art. Besides, a couple of letters weren't going to hurt him, not even a little. "It's a masterpiece, you should get th' credit for it."
Ashlee shook her head, still grinning. “Nah, I’m good. But I’m gonna keep asking to look at it, so y’know. Get used to walking around with your shirt off.” She hesitated for a second, wondering if she should point out that they’d likely get a hell of a lot more business if he walked around shirtless. But she didn’t know him well enough to tease him like that, not yet. And besides, thinking about him topless just made her aware that she was touching her hot, topless boss.
He grinned at her. "Maybe I'll make topless th' new uniform," he teased. "But if ye' keep askin' me t' take off my shirt I might have t' start askin' ye' t' do th' same," he smirked. He probably shouldn't have been so forward as to let those words slip from his lips, but he was feeling more comfortable with Ashlee and Patrick just couldn't help himself.
Ashlee just laughed, shaking her head. “Trust me, no one wants to see my boytits.” Because yeah, she wasn’t particularly well-endowed. She’d tried chicken fillet things, padded bras, every trick in the book. But boobs just got in the way most of the time, so for the most part she was happy with what she had. More than a handful was a waste, anyhow.
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Please," he muttered. "You've got plenty of tits and besides, more than a handful is a waste," he shrugged. It was the truth. He wasn't ever really a tits kind of guy. They were nice to look at and all, but it didn't really matter if they were big or small. Tits were tits. You played with them and sucked on them and Ashlee had plenty to do both with.
She shrugged, eyes on the art rather than on him. “I dunno. Bigger ones make nice pillows.” She grinned, just a little. “I’m a sucker for a curvy girl.” Probably because she was the exact opposite of curvy - she had a hint of a waist, small boobs, and the ass of a ten year old boy. Girly fitted clothes hung weirdly on her.
"Eh," he shrugged. "Never really been a tits sort of guy. More into eyes, smiles and lips. And th' occasional nice ass but that's negotiable." He smirked a little and shook his head. "I don't know why I'm givin' you all th' details on what I'd like in a woman. Not like you're interested," he sighed. "I don't think I have a filter," he admitted.
Ashlee shrugged again, focusing on her shading, not on the fact that she was a little giddy at the fact that he didn’t mind small tits like hers. Because she wasn’t going to fall for her boss. No way. “I don’t mind,” she grinned. “Could be useful if you want a wingman. Or woman.” She glanced up at him, her smile teasing. “Depending on the kind of bar, that is. I can use my feminine wiles, put in a good word for you.”
"I'm pretty sure th' girl I'm attracted t' at th' moment isn't interested," he told her honestly, doubting she'd pick up on the fact that he was interested in her. He shouldn't be. He was her boss and that was wrong on so many levels. But the more he spoke to her, the more he liked her. And the more he liked her, the more he wanted her in all the ways a man could want a woman. Maybe more ways given the fact that she was his protected. "Can't win 'em all."
“Well, you never know until you try,” Ashlee pointed out, completely oblivious. She finished off the shading under the curve of the skull’s jawbone, pulling back and setting the gun down. Carefully cleaning the smudges of excess ink away, she couldn’t help but beam proudly as she looked at the finished tattoo. “Take a look,” she said, nodding to the full-length mirror on the wall. She hopped up from her seat, peeling off her gloves with a little flourish, tossing them into the trash. She practically bounced over to the mirror, wanting to see his reaction when he saw the finished artwork. She hadn’t put her initials on it, in the end.
"Guess you'll have t' tell me if you're interested or not then," he said, slipping off the gurney and walking over to the mirror, using one hand to keep his pants at least close to his waist since they were still unzipped and unbuttoned. "Perfect," he said as he turned slightly to see the tattoo better. "You did amazin'," he said, glancing over at the girl.
Wait, what? Ashlee blinked, not sure she’d heard him correctly. Because it sounded like he’d asked her if she was interested in him. Which was just crazytalk. “I did, didn’t I?” She said, grinning. Yeah, the tattoo was a much safer topic of conversation. Just as long as she focused on the tattoo, and not on the pants nearly sliding off his hips. And how she just wanted to trace the lines of his hipbones with her tongue...taking a breath, she practically shook herself, walking back over to the station. “You want me to wrap it up for you?” She asked, getting out saran wrap and surgical tape.
Patrick sighed a little. Avoidance of the topic meant definite disinterest. Which was fine. It just sucked. Okay, so maybe it wasn't fine at all. "Yeah," he said as he took one more look at the tattoo in the mirror. Walking back over to the station, he stayed standing so she could get better access to the tattoo.
Ashlee tore off a square of saran wrap, the surgical tape dangling from one finger as she placed it over the tattoo, smoothing it down carefully. She tore off a few strips of tape, carefully taping down the edges. The lowest edge, well...she blushed, clearing her throat. “Um...you’re gonna have to pull down your pants a little more. Unless you wanna tape it up yourself.” She held out the length of tape to him, quirking an eyebrow.
Shifting his pants a little more, he pushed them down enough to expose all of the tattoo and perhaps a bit more of his lower half than she might have wanted to see. But she wasn't interested so it didn't matter he figured. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he told her, letting his eyes flick up to her face.
Ashlee’s breath caught, pale cheeks flushing as Patrick pushed down his pants, a little further than she was entirely comfortable with. “What?” She asked distractedly, dragging her eyes up to his, confused and embarrassed and doing her best not to stare at her boss’ crotch. “Wait, you mean....” she blushed a brighter shade of red, clashing horribly with her own hair. “Me? You’re interested in me?” Her voice was practically a squeak, the length of surgical tape dangling forgotten from her finger.
Patrick sighed a little, feeling like a total jackass. "Well yeah, I mean...," he sighed again and shook his head. "But it's cool that you're not interested," he told her. Taking the tape from her, he taped the bottom of the saran wrap and shifted his boxers back where they were supposed to be, zipping his jeans and going about doing the button. "You just said t' say somethin' so I did. And I got my answer. No harm, no foul."
“Yeah, because I figured it was some cute gothy chick with loads of piercings and tattoos and...I dunno, blue hair or something!” Ashlee practically flailed, utterly thrown by the turn the conversation had taken. “Not me!” Because...well, look at her. “I mean...you’re fucking gorgeous, why wouldn’t I be interested?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Apart from the fact that you’re my boss, and I totally swore off dating in the workplace.” Which she was now regretting, because damn, he was gorgeous.
He arched a brow at her little rambling session. "Well apparently you don't know my type," he told her. "You're sweet and talented and bouncy. So I like you," he shrugged. Which likely sounded stupid but he really didn't care at the moment. "But you're right, I am your boss and it's cool if you don't want to mix business with pleasure and we don't really know each other all that well and whatever so...," he shrugged.
Goddamnit, how could he look hot and like someone had kicked his puppy at the same time? She ran her hands through her hair, close to just letting out a frustrated scream. Of course he was a good guy. Of course she just had to make up a stupid fucking rule about dating in the workplace. “It’s not...” she sighed. “Bad experiences, ok? I don’t wanna fuck this up.” Which it looked like she already had. “I like working here too much to risk losing it for a roll in the hay with my admittedly fucking edible boss.”
"I didn't say I wanted t' roll in th' hay with you," he told her honestly. "I said I liked you. And I do. But I get it," he added. "Like I said, no harm, no foul. I like you workin' here too much t' mess it up over something as simple as attraction," he admitted. "So it's cool. We can just pretend this whole conversation never took place." At least they could try.
“Y-yeah,” Ashlee murmured, still a little stunned. In her experiences, guys who looked like Patrick were not interested in girls who looked like her. Ever. She was finding it a little hard to wrap her head around the idea. “No, yeah, good plan.” Even if there was a part of her yelling at her to just take advantage of the moment and grab him and kiss him. At least. “I’m gonna...” she gestured to the bench, the gun and ink and piles of crap still sitting out.
"Yeah," Patrick said, nodding a little. "I'm gonna go upstairs an' get my wallet," he explained. "You more than made your pay for this one," he smiled. "So I'll be right back." Heading to the back of the shop where the stairs that led up to his apartment were at, he glanced back at Ashlee one more time and let out a little sigh. He'd probably messed that up royally. Hopefully she didn't run off and quit because he'd been so forward.
Ashlee looked up with a handful of tissues and plastic ink caps, blinking. “Hunh? Oh, no, you...” but he was already gone. God, this was awkward. She dumped her handful into the trash, clearing away the rest of her set up and trying not to curse herself for turning down the hottest guy ever to show an interest in her. Even if she had a good reason for doing so, there was a part of her that really wanted to tell him she’d changed her mind. And she definitely didn’t want to take money from him for the tattoo.
It didn't take long for him to grab his wallet from his place and head back down the stairs. He returned to the shop, rifling through the wallet as he approached her again. "Here," he said as he handed over cash for the tattoo. She'd earned it, he wanted her to have the money for it. It was only fair. He got an awesome piece of artwork and all because she'd felt like tattooing him. The least he could do was pay for what he'd gotten. "Thanks, by th' way. I think I have a new favorite tattoo."
“Oh, no I couldn’t...” she said weakly, trying to hand it back to him. “I need the practice, honestly.” She felt bad enough as it was, she didn’t want to take money from him on top of turning him down. “And really?” She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Awesome.” She cleared the table away, looking around the studio to check that she hadn’t left anything else out. Tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she sighed. And tried her best not to look at his naked chest.
"I don't think you need as much practice as you seem t' think you do," he told her. "You earned it. Just take th' money, yeah?" he said, offering out the bills again. It wasn't right to take her services and not give her anything. Especially when he knew she was taking care of her sister and likely could use the extra cash anyway. "Please?"
Ok, she couldn’t resist, not when he was looking at her with those soulful brown eyes, and saying ‘please’. She took the money from him, folding the bills and slipping them into her pocket. “Thanks,” she murmured, a little awkwardly. She glanced at the clock - half an hour til close. “Is there anything else needing done tonight?” They wouldn’t be tattooing anyone, even if they came in now.
He was glad she took the money and that he didn't have to keep begging her. He tucked his wallet into his back pocket and glanced around. "Nah," he said. "I can finish tidyin' th' place. If you wanna go ahead and cut out, you're more than welcome t' go," he told her, flashing her a smile.
“You sure?” She said, unable to quite hide the relief on her face. Any more awkwardness, and she’d have to do something drastic. The thought of getting to go home was a very appealing one. She could run away, freak out about the fact that apparently her boss liked her, and get horrendously drunk. Or eat her body weight in Ben and Jerry’s. She honestly didn’t know which was more appealing.
"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Go on, get out of here," he smiled. "I'll see you later." He could tell she was ready to get out of there and he couldn't really blame her. Patrick was already kicking himself for making things awkward for the girl. He should have just kept his big mouth shut, that's what he should have done. But as it was now, he couldn't really take it back so he'd have to make do with pretending the conversation never took place. "Thanks again," he told her. "For th' tattoo."
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” she waved her hand dismissively, shoving her sketchbook back into her messenger bag and slinging it onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bossman.” Picking up her sweatshirt, she headed for the door, shoulders slumping as she let the door close behind her. “Fuck,” she muttered quietly, turning right and heading for her car.