Apprentice - 3. Part 3

Kip was sitting at the main desk, drawing when the bell over the door chimed gently, and he looked up and smiled at the girl who stood next to the counter.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” she glanced around the studio at the artists who were busy working and Kip saw her eyes slide to the pages of flash he had spread out in front of him. “I want to get a tattoo.”

“Cool,” it was the standard reply, but Kip could already see the woman had another tattoo on her shoulder. She turned automatically to show it off, and Kip took in the lovely neo-traditional candy skull. “Very nice. What is it you want?”

“Some roses, and a snake. I want to balance out the other shoulder.”

“Full colour?” Kip knew it would be. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you take a seat?” As the woman turned away, Kip practically ran over to AJ’s station and skidded to a halt. “AJ?”

“I heard. Sounds fun, and you draw a mean rose. Go on.” He didn’t even look up, but Kip could hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks AJ!”

Kip jogged back to the drawing table and rifled through his flash sheets, looking for one which featured a whole bunch of snakes he’d worked on the previous week. He bit back a snarl when he saw Jon take it and begin walking over to the girl.

“Hey!”

Jon turned to him with a sneer.

“Give that back.”

“Ha! You ain’t getting a tattoo done before me.” Jon looked down at him, and Kip wished he wasn’t so short. “Just because you’re sucking up to AJ to get ahead doesn’t mean I’m gonna.”

“So you’ll steal my artwork and my client instead. Fuck you Jon.” Kip hissed, keeping his voice low. Regardless of how much he wanted to, he was not going to make a scene in the shop in front of clients and damage the studio’s reputation.

“Boys?” Shay wafted over to them and wrapped her arm around Jon’s shoulder. “Jon, I need you to come help me with some shading. Leave Kip to his client.”

Jon smirked, and as Kip reached for his flash sheet, he watched the other man tear it to pieces as he walked away. Kip took his supplies and went back over to his client.

“So, what kind of snake are we talking about?”

“A banded corn snake. With the orange, red, and black? I don’t want it to look scary though.”

“A feminine snake and roses? I like it. Give me twenty minutes to draw it up? You can wait here, would you like a drink?”

“Water?”

Just as Kip was about to go and get her a drink, he heard Matti say;

“Jon, go fetch water for Kip’s client.”

Jon grumbled something, but Kip was much too engrossed in his drawing to care. By the time he finished, he became aware of the fact that AJ was standing at his shoulder.

“AJ?”

“Beautiful. I’ve finished up. You can use my station if you want. You have your machines?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll set up for you.”

Kip stared at his boss, slack jawed.

“Ummm… seven colour pots please.” He wandered back to the sofa, where his young woman was flicking through her phone, concentrating hard. “Miss?”

“Colette.”

“Kip Meijer.” Kip held out the sketch with a smile. “So you all set?”

“That’s awesome!” Colette was on her feet in an instant, a wide honest smile spreading across her features. “It’s totally perfect. Thank you!”

“Thank me afterwards,” Kip quipped. “I’ll go make a stencil, if you go and take a seat over there, I’ll be right with you.”

With extreme care, Kip put his drawing through the copy machine and came out with a blue stencil. He shaved Colette’s bare shoulder, rubbed her with transfer lotion, and stilled his breathing as he positioned the stencil to complement the shape of her body and her other tattoo. While she jumped up to check the position, Kip took his ink bottles, and filled up the pots AJ had lain out for him. And then it was like any other tattoo, Kip set his needles just so, braced his wrist against his client’s skin, and used the long reach of his fingers to lay down a super smooth consistent outline around his tattoo. He didn’t think of much at all, spent what appeared to be a long time reliving the feel of Niels’s lips on his own, then reached for his shading machine as he wiped Colette’s shoulder once again.

“This is my favourite place in the whole of The Alkmaar,” Niels had reached for his hand once more, and Kip hand found the sensation of the Dutch boy’s fingers in his jeans pocket, twined with his own, deeply erotic. “Have you been before?”

Kip had stared up at the dizzying heights of the Grote Sint Laurenskerk. His uncle had brought him to see their corner of the world’s most famous sight, hear the organ, and marvel at the light streaming through the stained glass windows and onto classical images from the bible the very first time his father had brought him to visit. The smell of incense and hot wax combined with the glint of gold gilt always made him feel small and insignificant.

“Not since I was little.”

“Kom op!”

Niels’s laugh had already proved to be more than a little infectious, and feeling like a child sneaking off, Kip had kept hold of his hand and followed his friend into the cathedral. They skidded past tourists, bypassed the new contemporary gallery spaces, and stared with wonder at the long pipes of the organ ascending to the ceiling. Kip hadn’t let go of Niels until he’d stood under a geometric piece of domed ceiling and spun in circles until he was dizzy. It had been easy to forget the ache of his tattoos when Niels had caught around his ribs, lifted him off his feet and kissed him like they were in a movie.

Kip had never felt so free in his life, woven his fingers into Niels’s super soft hair and hung on to him tight as they’d kissed some more. The Dutch boy was strong, held onto Kip as though he weighed nothing at all, and Kip had felt nothing but the hammering of his heart and the smooth-rough-firm textures of Niels’s lips and tongue in his mouth until lack of oxygen had broken them apart.

People had stared, and Kip had found it easy not to care.

“Have you noticed the entire studio is watching you tattoo me?”

Kip blinked at Colette’s words. He’d been so engrossed in the action of laying down colour and shading it gently into black he’d almost forgotten he’d been watching his memory of Niels inside his own head rather than being in the cathedral, surrounded by people and the weight of the stone, and Niels’s warm arms.

“Is there something I oughta know?”

It was Matti who replied.

“You’re his very first client.”

“Really?” Colette’s shock sounded so genuine, Kip finally looked up from the nearly-finished tattoo, to find everyone, including one of Matti’s regular clients and friend, standing around the station, watching him. “You’re not serious?” Colette continued, “His artwork is amazing.”

“He’s an apprentice,” Jon scowled, as though he and Kip didn’t share the title.

“Not for long,” Shay murmured, quiet enough Kip needed to replay her voice in his head to ensure he’d not imagined it.

Kip returned to his tattoo, and finished up the final highlights on the snake’s beady eye and slick scales hyper-aware that his every move was being scrutinised. He wiped the tattoo a final time, applied a thin layer of anti-bacterial ointment and sat back.

“Go check it out.”

All eyes were on Colette as she stepped across to the full length mirror and turned to gaze at the snake and roses on her shoulder.

“Oh wow!”

Kip smiled to himself as he discarded his needles in the sharps bin and laid his tattoo machines back into their foam lined case before beginning to wrap his first client’s new tattoo.

“Thank you so much,” Colette beamed at him. “You can bet I’mma be tellin’ all my friends about you.”

“Thanks.” The forceful praise left Kip feeling a bit stunned as Colette was taken away by Shay to settle up. He turned to AJ, and waited, feeling unaccountably nervous.

“You’ve tattooed before.” AJ stated. “You must’ve. That was cleaner work than I’ve seen come out of dozens of other apprentices and artists who’ve been tattooing five years or more.”

“Thank you.” Kip continued waiting, knowing there would be something else.

“Lord am I glad Matti took a shine to you. If every walk in you do is that good, you’re going to be bringing us in a lot of money.”

“If we don’t lose him to someone else, that is.” Matti arched an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t do that to you guys!” Kip replied quickly. He felt his stomach lurch at the words, knowing it was true and he couldn’t leave the men who were training him, and that even with the pull of family and the undefined promise of Niels, he wasn’t going to move to The Netherlands any time ever.

“You’re good Kip. I want you sit in on my next black and grey tattoo, and I’ll show you a couple more shading techniques so you can get some really smooth gradients.”

“Thank you AJ.”

“Now go draw me some roses.”

Kip grinned, and even though Matti was already ribbing his friend and colleague that roses were a bit of a pointless practice subject for him, Kip sat down, grabbed his sketchbook, and did just that.

*

“Well well, you’re early.”

Kip looked up from the step where he sat to AJ standing in the street holding a bag from the grocery store and smiling.

“Mornin’,” Kip covered his yawn with one hand. “Sorry.”

“This European boyfriend of yours is keeping you up late, eh?” AJ shook his head softly, “Or are you getting up super early to talk to him too?” The big man took the step next to Kip and handed him chocolate from the bag. “Ahhh, young love.”

“I don’t know if he loves me.” Kip frowned. It was true he’d been spending a lot of time on the internet with Niels, and being able to talk face to face through the mirror of the computer screen with the Dutch boy was keeping him up in more ways than one.

“No, he just calls you every day and I’m guessing you can’t wait to see him again, either? When is it you’re back over there?”

“Next week.” Kip couldn’t keep the wistfulness and desire out of his voice, so he didn’t try. “It’s going to be great to see Ome Dirk again so soon.”

“Your family aren’t sick of you crashing on their couch?” AJ grinned at him and Kip felt relaxed enough to jab him gently on the shoulder.

“I normally have to wait years to see them.” Kip ate the chocolate AJ had given him gratefully. Staying up late had mucked about with his sleeping schedule, and figuring if he’d stayed in bed he’d oversleep, he had gone out for a run before arriving at the shop to find he was still far too early. Now it was nice to sit in the morning sun in companionable silence.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not only going over to see your family and flirt with your boyfriend are you?”

Kip glanced up at his boss, feeling guilty suddenly.

“Eight weeks healing time between session sets, and if your artist came here for the first one, that would add up to about the right number of hours. Convention in the fall would finish you off right on schedule,” AJ paused, as if checking his mental arithmetic. “So how are you coping with the pain?”

Kip spent a panicked second wondering if his uncle would be pissed someone had found out, but he knew Dirk Jeroen wouldn’t expect him to lie to everyone. He just wasn’t allowed to show people.

“Pretty well I think. Some stuff hurts worse than others, but I’m not looking forwards to the ribs...”

AJ didn’t question him further, and by the time Matti and Jon showed up, Kip was washing the glass frontage of the shop.

“Up early were we?” the blue haired tattooist grinned.

“An’ back in your proper place I see,” Jon chipped in cockily. He slunk into the shop before either Matti or Kip could say anything.

“Don’t you mind him,” Matti scowled, and then shielded his eyes from the sun before smiling at Kip. “Just keep your head down, and do clean tattoos.”

“Yes Matti.”

In his remaining week Kip did three more tattoos, two of which asked for him specifically, though only one was by name, the other by the description of ‘Colette sent me for the kid with the blond hair and the skills’. AJ had barely even glanced at his final drawing before approving it, and Kip had become more adept at using the stencil machine, though the thought of it chewing up a drawing still made him shudder internally. Jon had two walk ins to deal with, and Kip had heard AJ scowling over his artwork, and made him re-draw at least one of them. Matti taught him how to shade in circles and how to blend his inks to create more effective colour gradients, and he spent his last afternoon working on a complicated composition AJ had him draw up, using his own shoulder as a template, in Aztec style tribal.

That night Kip packed his bag and read the final message on his phone before he boarded the plane.

Counting the hours until I can kiss you again! xxx Niels

*

Kip stripped out of his shirt and waited patiently whilst his uncle inspected him. He knew already his tattoos had healed up well, he’d followed every instruction, and every inch of his inked skin glowed with colour. It was almost, almost possible to forget he was looking at his own body when he studied the pictures he wore. His uncle traced soft finger tips over the shape of the Pharaoh on his back and gestured to the tattoo bench.

“Good boy, neervlijen. We have to work on ribs next.”

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Kip did as directed and lay flat on his spine so that Dirk Jeroen could apply the pre-measured stencils to the left side of his rib cage. Hathor and the disc of the sun floated on his skin before Dirk took a marker and began to join the river and crocodile on his hip, blending them into his abdomen with the soft fronds of river reeds and bulrushes.

“You ready?”

“Ja.”

Kip knew he’d spent the whole time on his tattoo so far sitting like a champ. That was how AJ always described clients who could soak up the pain without flinching and flexing, the ones who made tattooing fun, easy, and pleasant. Kip had made it his aim, right from the day he’d first decided he wanted to wear forever one of the amazing full body pieces his uncle was famous for, to ensure he did everything he could to make the work he wore bring more recognition to the name they both shared. He was a competition piece, the most important thing his uncle would tattoo for well over a year, and possibly a lot longer if he won, and even though the needle moving so close over his skeleton made him want to cry, he didn’t. Kip tucked his bicep under the back of his head, wove his fingers together so he wouldn’t clench them, and locked his jaw to keep from whimpering out his pain as his uncle drew indelibly on his skin.

For five hours, he didn’t move a single muscle, apart from those he needed to breathe with, and when Dirk Jeroen finally let him up for a break, Kip stood up to find his legs had gone to sleep, and ended up on hands and knees on the studio floor.

“Mijn Neef? Are you alright little Kip?”

“Ja. I’m OK.”

His uncle helped him up and rubbed his back.

“You did eat breakfast this morning, right?”

Kip nodded.

“Rest, use the bathrooms. I’ll get us some food.”

“Can I go outside and get some air?” Kip found he was panting, and each deep breath caused his half-finished tattoo to stab him anew.

“Of course. Let me wrap you up.”

“I’ll do it Oom; I know how.”

“Oke dan...” Dirk Jeroen looked at him out of the corner of one eye, and Kip knew his uncle was worried he was pushing himself too far. “Remember to put a shirt on.”

Kip winced as he smeared ointment on himself, then wrapped his ribs temporarily with film, and pulled on his shirt even more gingerly than he’d done after his back was inked. He found a sports drink and half a packet of imported Chips Ahoy! in his satchel, and used the back stairs to exit The Alkmaar Tattoo centre without anyone noticing him. He wandered down the Hekelstraat, phone in hand, and wondered where Niels was in the middle of the day.

“Ga maar zonder mij,” Niels’s voice sounded distant. “Met Niels?”

“It’s me.”

“American!” Niels’s smile was obvious just from the way he spoke. “Kip! Waar ben je, are you free?”

“Ja. We’re on a break. What are you up to?”

“Going to have lunch with some friends on the Verdronkenord. Where are you?”

“Not far,” Kip could already see the canal in front of him, “the Platte Stenenbrug.”

“I’ll be right there. Stay exactly where you are.”

“Ja...” Kip stood staring at the tables and chairs of the cafe, listening to the water of the canal flow underneath his feet, trying not to think about how hard his heart was beating. His rational brain told him it wasn’t such a good idea to meet Niels in the middle of the day halfway through a ten hour tattoo session, especially if he wanted to keep his secret, but the moment he’d heard the Dutch boy’s voice, he knew he’d had no choice in the matter. Niels made him feel special, and that was far too intoxicating to give up easily.

“American!” Kip had no idea how Niels managed to make the title sound like some kind of secret joke, like calling him ‘American’ made him somehow special even though the word could be applied to nearly three hundred and twenty million other people. Kip felt his pulse crowd his ears as he saw Niels half running towards him. “You’re here!”

Kip didn’t have time to stay anything before Niels’s arms went around him, and the pain was a punch in the gut soothed instantly by the kiss planted on his lips. Kip kissed him back like he was drowning, but it was far better than thinking about being in pain.

“I missed you,” only after Niels set him down again did either of them regain the ability to speak. “You taste like sugar.”

Kip held up the now empty packet of Chips Ahoy! guiltily.

“That is not a lunch!” Niels looked horrified. “Come with me and join my friends. I can’t wait for them to meet you.”

“Niels...” Kip bit his lip and smiled; no one had ever wanted to show him off before. “I can’t, I have to get back soon.”

“Where?” Niels arched an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

“And I was planning on feeling you up under the table,” Niels rolled his eyes, “you’re cute when you blush. Het is schattig.”

“I missed you too, y’know.”

“Ja?” Niels’s grin was full of a smug confidence Kip found strangely sexy.

“Ja. Been thinking about you a lot. ‘s nachts.” Kip felt Niels’s fingers tickling his spine, heading south, and the movement pulled them closer together. “Tonight?”

“Yes please.” Niels stopped short of the waistband of Kip’s trousers and took his chin instead, tilting his face upwards for a searing kiss. “Come to my apartment? I will make you dinner.”

“OK.”

“I’ll see you later, American. Tot kijk!”

It wasn’t until after Niels had vanished from sight Kip wondered how he was going to avoid his tattoo being detected when they would be alone in Niels’s apartment. The Dutch boy’s embrace had told him he was not the only one who’d been missing some late night company.

Kip wandered back to the Alkmaar Tattoo Centre with his ribs aching and his mind reeling, ate what his uncle gave him, and continued to lie on one side, unmoving, while his uncle injected ink into some very specific and painful places under his skin.

*

“Kom binnen, Kip.” Niels’s tone was excited, and Kip could hardly wait for the buzzer to sound and allow him entrace to the apartment building. He shouldered his way through the front door, and began climbing the stairs, wine in hand.

Kip had thought his aunt and uncle would be upset he’d promised his first night with them away to someone else, but he’d been sent out with directions and a good bottle of wine from his aunt’s collection, and told to have fun. Kip had stopped enroute and bought flowers for his date, but had been second guessing his decision ever since. He and Niels had spent far more time talking than Kip thought other ‘holiday romance’ couples did. And though it had been easier with the knowledge Kip would be returning soon, at no point during the time he’d been home, had Kip ever doubted what he felt was real. Now he knocked on Niels’s front door, wondering if the Dutch boy felt the same thing, or if Kip’s imagination had been playing tricks on him.

“Well hey,” Niels opened the door with a wide grin, and Kip stared. His host was wearing a pair of well fitted jeans and nothing else but a smear of what appeared to be oil and a dishcloth over one shoulder. His hair was ruffled, but his sparkling eyes shone for Kip. “Come on in. Dinner’s is being… tricky.”

“Tricky?”

“Ja.” Niels turned away from him and headed back to the kitchen. Kip scanned every inch of him as he followed. “I may have overschatte… er, overestimated my cooking skills.”

Kip sniffed the air, his brow furrowing.

“What was it supposed to be?”

“Vis taart?” Niels offered, as though unsure of his original intentions. “Do you cook?”

“No,” Kip replied, and laughed.

They ended up on Niels’s couch, sharing the wine and Thai food the Dutch boy had ordered when it became clear they were going to have to abandon the kitchen and any hope of rescuing the ingredients he’d successfully turned into gloop. Niels hadn’t bothered to put anymore clothes on, and Kip found it increasingly hard not to stare openly at his smooth skin and rounded muscles. Niels filled him in on the lunch he’d missed, and Kip ate spicy prawns with his bare fingers and showed Niels the pictures of all the tattoos he’d so far completed.

“You’re very good. You must take after your uncle.”

“Dank je,” Kip remembered the long drawn out sting of the needle in his skin, but smiled. “I am very lucky.”

“Will you tattoo anyone while you’re here?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Ome Dirk is a wonderful artist, but he’s not my teacher. I wouldn’t do that to AJ.” Kip felt a sharp stab of longing for the studio of Brick and Tenth and the artists who worked there. “I was sort of surprised he gave me a job really. He trusts me, I think, so I couldn’t do anything as rash as to tattoo somebody on the other side of the world.”

“Does that mean,” Niels set his glass down close to Kip’s own and leant forwards across the width of the couch, “if I want you to do me, I have to come to Texas?”

“Umm...” Kip was lost for words, because the movement had brought Niels’s nearly naked form close enough for him to feel the other man’s body heat, and he was pinned under his gaze. Niels’s tone couldn’t be misinterpreted, and Kip knew he hadn’t made up the hungry look in his eyes. “I...”

It was the last thing he said for a long time, because Niels simply found his lips and kissed him as though it was the sole purpose of his exsistence. Kip melted underneath him, pulled Niels down on top of his body, even though he ached, and lost himself under the onslaught of the Dutch boy’s tongue. When he finally surfaced for air, Niels began to kiss down his jaw and neck, fingers deftly dealing with the buttons on his shirt. Kip made a strangled sort of noise and grabbed Niels’s wrist hard.

“No...”

Niels stopped kissing his chest, and Kip found himself incredibly gratefully he did not yet sport any ink on his front above his sternum.

“Kip?” The subtleties of Niels’s expression were unreadable, but Kip knew by looking at him, and by feeling the hot hard muscle pressing into his hip, that Niels was wanting more than kissing. “Is there something you want to tell me?” When Kip didn’t answer, Niels’s smile became soft and understanding. “Ben je nog maagd?”

Kip had been working on his Dutch, but he had no idea what Niels meant.

“Sorry?”

Niels kissed him again, gently.

“Are you a virgin, Kip?”

Kip felt suddenly very small and very young, half lying on Niels’s couch, hands pressed against the Dutch boy’s skin. He almost let go, but Kip fought his shyness and pulled Niels back down into a better embrace.

“Ja. Sorry.”

Niels held his jaw and kissed him until they were both panting. He nipped gently at Kip’s neck, but didn’t try and move lower. Kip felt the tension running through his body hitch up another notch. He kissed Niels again, fiercely, trying to cover his admission and the half-hearted, unnecessary apology. They ended up on the floor, Kip trying not to squash his partner until Niels hugged him hard. Kip fought the urge to wince at the pain in his ribs.

“We can go slow,” Niels said it like he hadn’t been hoping for more, “Kissing’s good.”

“Better than fish pie?” Kip asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Better than Thai food,” Niels replied, and they giggled.

*

“Hi, I’m here for an appointment with Kip?” The young guy at the counter could not have said the words to a worse person, and Jon turned away from him to glower at the other apprentice. Kip stood, but let AJ leave his drawings and go ahead of him towards the client. Kip was sure he recognised the black haired man from somewhere, but couldn’t place him. “Is it Kip, or Kit? Caan wasn’t sure.”

“How’d you hear about him?” AJ kept his tone level and friendly, but Kip understood his concern. He and Jon were only supposed to be taking walk ins, and Kip hadn’t even tried to make an appointment with anyone. He’d hardly even told any of his friends from outside the shop he was tattooing already.

“A guy came into my boyfriend’s studio like, three weeks ago, raving about this dude who’d tattooed an excellent Japanese style shark on him, and we got talking. I called up last week and made an appointment.” He shrugged and turned to Kip, “You’re him, right?”

“I wasn’t here last week,” Kip spoke to AJ. “I was visiting family.”

“I made the appointment,” Shay looked up at AJ from her bench, and something passed between them Kip couldn’t understand. “I knew Kip would have a blank day in his schedule.”

There was a long pause during which Jon glared hard at Kip as if trying to take him to pieces with his eyes. Then AJ smiled.

“Kip, go consult with your client.”

“But-!”

“Jon, go take out the trash,” AJ cut him off, “and then I want a flash page of cars and hot-rods by lunch.”

Kip smiled at the young man with the chocolate brown eyes.

“Hi. So what is it you’re after?”

“I was kind of hoping you could do something with a leg? I’d love another shark.”

“Another shark?” Kip sat with his client at the main drawing table and took up pencil and sketchbook, ready to make notes. Rather than explain, the man peeled off his jacket to show an incredibly colourful and beautiful sleeve tattoo. Pride of place in the Aztec patterns, was a dog shark so well defined and textured Kip nearly reached out to stroke it. “That’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“Any reason you’re not getting the same artist to do the next one?” Kip couldn’t help but be curious. It was one of the tattoos his uncle had warned him about, and for the first time since starting on his bodysuit, Kip wished for a fleeting second, he could get inked by the guy who’d done such fantastic work.

“I was sort of hoping for something a bit darker, a touch more tough, perhaps?” His client explained with a grin. “The ‘other artist’ is my boyfriend. He’ll create me something lovely when he’s ready, but if he did every tattoo I ever imagined...”

“You’d be out of skin already.” Kip surmised correctly. “Uh huh, lower or upper leg?”

“Lower.”

Kip grinned, watching pattern, colour, and fins swimming together in his mind.

“Well let’s get you all measured up, shall we?”

Kip waved his client off before going over to the big studio diary, and filling in Ryker’s six hour appointment for the following week. When he wrote his name in the space next to ‘artist’ his chest swelled.

“That’s a big tattoo, you sure you’re ready for it?” Matti asked him.

“Yes, but you guys will be here right, in case?”

“Ha! The chances of you needing help are about the same as us all getting squashed by the sun.” It made Kip almost deliriously happy to hear Matti’s hyperbolic praise. “But we’ll be here. You’d better get on, you’ve got some drawing to do!”

Kip went back to his sketch pad, used his phone to find images of the super-fast blue shark Ryker so adored, and began to draw. Drawing still held sway over his brain, and he couldn’t switch off, aware of every movement of the pencil against the page as he roughed out the general composition. Like his client’s other tattoo, he wanted to combine slick tribal shapes into the swirling water of the background, and began to add Polynesian swirls and flourishes in with his pencil. By the time he had a design he was happy to start cleaning up, the studio was softly quiet, with Shay and Matti busy with clients, Jon tattooing a walk in customer, and AJ sat at the computer, apparently arguing jovially with the accounting software. Kip made a copy of his sketch, just in case he screwed it up, and went over to the light box in order to start tracing a cleaned up version.

“Kip?” The fact that Jon had barely used his name before made Kip look up. Jon was wiping the traditional swallow he’d just finished outlining on his client’s ankle. Even from across the room, Kip could tell the outline was slightly wonky, and the thickness wasn’t very consistent.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t set up enough ink pots, could you grab me a couple more? Please?” Kip almost dropped his pencil in shock, but he nodded, and went over to AJ’s station. Jon was frowning at his tattoo, and Kip wondered if he’d learnt to recognise his own shortcomings.

“Sure thing. How many do you need?” Kip ducked behind the ink cupboard to get more dip pots, his other hand smearing Vaseline on the sterilised surface to stick them to automatically.

Afterwards, he couldn’t say what had made him look up and move; there might have been a faint brush against his pale arm hairs, it might have been the sharp buzz of the tattoo machine, the chair could have creaked, but Kip wasn’t aware of any of those things. He looked up, saw Jon’s face twisted into an angry sneer, saw the contaminated needle of the tattoo machine dangerously close to his skin and jumped backwards, pulling the ink cart over with him. The commotion was instantaneous, the client yelped and swore, Jon cursed, Kip scrambled back from the senior apprentice, knowing he’d made a mess and knowing there was ink staining his clothes and hands. AJ was on his feet inside a second, tearing the power lead from the wall, and Kip couldn’t think of much more than Matti’s strong arms around him, helping him up and keeping him in place.

“What the fuck just happened?” Kip had never heard AJ’s voice so piled with rage. He rounded on Jon, and the young man quaked in fear. “What did you do?”

Kip glanced down at his arm, he was splattered with ink, but the needle hadn’t touched him. It was going to take some scrubbing to get rid of the stain, but the needle hadn’t touched him.

“N-nothing!” Jon stuttered, but AJ had already grabbed his shirt and pulled the tattoo machine off him.

“Shay, look after the shop. Kip, finish this guy’s tattoo and don’t charge him anything. Matti, bring this,” he shook Jon before letting him go, “and come with me.”

It was very quiet in the shop as Shay allowed her client to take a break and began to clear up the mess made by Kip’s rush to get away from being permanently mauled. Kip tried to apologise half a dozen times, but Shay shushed him, and instead he washed as much ink as he could from his skin before donning a pair of latex gloves, setting up all over again with a new needle set at the correct depth this time, and began to re-ink Jon’s client.

“I’m very sorry about that.”

“Dude,” the client sounded shocked, “you don’t gotta be sorry. I can’t believe he tried to do that to you. You guys have a fight of somethin’?”

“Not as far as I know,” Kip tried to smile at him. “Now let’s get this bird of yours ready to fly, shall we?”

It took a bit of work to clean up the tattoo Jon had started, and Kip was forced to add to the outline in order to frame the bird properly and get the anatomy correct. By the time he was shading in a nice soft blue, Jon, Matti, and AJ reappeared from the back of the shop. None of them looked happy, but Jon looked like he was trying hard not to cry. In silence, Jon collected his bag and the pile of half-finished sketches he’s left sitting on a side table, and without a backwards glance, he left the shop. Kip didn’t say anything, but finished up his client’s tattoo, soothed and wrapped it, and sent the man away with a happy smile. Only then did he dare to approach the front desk where AJ and Matti both stood, looking serious.

“You know we’ll have to email out to all the other shops in the area? He can’t be allowed to take up at one of those either.”

“I know,” AJ sounded suddenly tired, “it’s not how I would have wanted it to work out.”

“No one did,” Matti replied, “but at least Kip has damn quick reflexes.” Matti patted him on the shoulder. “You alright there kiddo? Stopped shaking yet?”

“Yeah, thanks Matti.” Kip didn’t want to ask the obvious question, but simply looked to AJ. “Boss?”

“You’re not hurt?”

“No permanent damage sir.”

“Good. I can’t have one of my artist’s sporting bad ink now, can I?”

“Sir?” Kip was sure his ears must’ve played some kind of evil trick on him.

“We’re going to have to build you your own station, aren’t we?” AJ’s smile was broad and warm. “And we’re going to all have to get used to setting up for ourselves again now that we don’t have an apprentice.”

“AJ?” Kip could barely believe what he was hearing. “Really?”

“Oh yes. You and Matti are going to have to hold the fort down while Shay and I are at the convention anyway, though I hear you’re going to be there for a few days too. Welcome to The Brick and Tenth, Kip.”

Kip squealed, and flung his arms around AJ’s neck.

“Yes!”

“I told you he’d be happy boss,” Matti laughed. “Come on Kip, let go of him. You and I get to go to the printers and get artwork made for your new space.”

Kip didn’t care much what had happened to Jon. He was safe, he was respected, and he’d been given a job that paid after what was probably the world’s shortest ever tattoo apprenticeship. He took his portfolio and grinned for the rest of the day.

*

It was a strange thing, having spent a hundred and eighty hours being tattooed in total private and near-secrecy, to sit in the convention hall in his uncle’s booth, being tattooed with hundreds of people staring at him. Kip had learnt very quickly that some convention goers tried to be chatty, and kept on wanting to talk to him or his uncle about the work he was getting, or more often, about work they themselves wanted. Even though Dirk Jeroen had a sign up saying he wouldn’t be working on convention clients until the fourth day, people still wanted to know if he could squeeze them in. Kip discovered it was easier to ignore them than to try and disengage an over enthusiastic conversationalist. Instead of listening in to observers discussing him, Kip focused on the humming of his uncle’s tattoo machine, and thought about the man he wanted to call his boyfriend.

He’d stood, phone in hand, and shown Niels around the tattoo studio.

“This is where we do most of our drawings,” he grinned, even though with the camera facing the other way, Niels couldn’t see him, “and this is the space the guys built for me.”

It was a small work area, but Kip had a black padded bench, second hand and in good repair, a swivel wheeled work stool, and a brand new stainless steel ink cabinet with colourful dragon designs on the door. More importantly, he had four large framed prints up on the wall, and a sign in Matti’s excellent hand lettering, bearing his name.

“That’s so cool!” Niels sounded genuinely impressed, “I’m so happy for you American. Is that the shark tattoo you told me about?”

Kip glanced up at the photo of his first real client’s leg. The blue shark had come out beautifully, complimented the shape of Ryker’s leg and worked with his other tattoo. When Ryker’s boyfriend had come to pick him up from his appointment, Kip had felt his work was being critically appraised by the other artist. Matti had greeted the colourfully tattooed man like they were old friends, and it had been a good day.

“Yeah. Hey, you wanna see what Oom sent me?”

“Ja.”

Kip had opened up the ink cabinet and pulled out his case of tattoo machines. His uncle had congratulated him loudly and at length, and two weeks later a parcel had arrived at the studio, plastered with stamps of pears and windmills. The Dan Kubin brushed nickel Sidewinder was an ultimate outlining tattoo machine, and Kip adored the cleanliness it produced. Even AJ, with his huge collection of machines, had whistled appreciatively as Kip had unwrapped the package.

“Sexy,” Niels’s voice had a lilt Kip recognised from their late night phone calls. “Turn me around, I miss seeing you.”

Kip span the phone around, and was greeted by the sight of the Dutch boy, who had somehow found the time to become topless whilst they’d been talking. Kip sat down heavily on his tattoo bench as Niels smiled at him.

“Much better,” his voice was low and husky, and Kip was incredibly happy he was the only person who’d stayed after hours in the shop in order to negate the time difference which kept Niels seeing where he worked. “I miss you Kip.”

“I miss you too.” Kip imagined Niels’s lips on his own and sighed softly. “I wish you were here.”

“Binnenkort,” Niels whispered, “You gonna show me what I’m missing, American?”

“Niels!” Kip tried to be shocked, but truthfully Niels’s suggestion had a frankly lewd effect on his anatomy. “I...”

“Then I’ll show you.” Niels’s image went out of focus, and Kip knew he was sending him a kiss. “I spent a long time thinking about you naakt.”

Kip felt his breathing becoming more and more uneven, as his view changed from Niels’s face and tracked down his bare torso. He followed the Dutch boy’s fingers as they traced the shapes of his abdomen down to the waistband of his trousers. Even in the half light from the phone screen, Kip knew he was not imagining the thickening bulge there.

“Niels!”

“I got you going now, haven’t I Kip?” Niels practically purred. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

“Umm...” Kip had set his teeth in his lower lip and decided the man he hoped to call his boyfriend deserved something for being so patient. With a delighted smile that brought forth an exclamation of joy and desire from the other side of the planet, Kip had touched himself through his clothes.

“So how are things with you and Niels, little Kip?” His uncle was shading on his chest, right over his heart, and Kip had to concentrate to breathing evenly in between strokes.

“Really good. I miss him loads, but I can’t just up and vanish again so soon. AJ needs me.”

“You think he might come over here?”

“Lord, I hope so.” Kip glanced over at his uncle, and smiled. “Thank you Oom.”

“Whatever for mijn Neef?

Kip looked down at his exposed chest, highly decorated and practically glowing with colour and pattern. Dirk Jeroen caught his eyes and grinned back.

“Oh, nothing,” Kip replied, and they laughed.

*

“Is that all I get to wear?”

“Ja.”

“Doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?” Kip took the garment, though calling it clothing was rather generous, and stared at it. “Though I supposed that’s the point.”

“You’ll look great.”

“Thanks Oom.”

“I gotta get back out there. You’ll come when they call you, OK?”

“Ja.” His uncle vanished back out into the packed convention hall, and Kip was left alone to change.

His tattoo had been finished on the third day of the convention, but judging wasn’t until the tenth, and while other canvases had wandered around looking at all the other artists, Kip had been back at the shop, working on clients and walk ins. He had healed up well, and the previous night had shaved everywhere, then scrubbed and exfoliated his skin until he shone. Now he dropped his boxers, and tucked himself into the little blue fabric pouch his uncle had given him, settling the slightly springy plastic under-wire in the furrow of his ass. The underwear was clever, if very revealing, and there were no straps to break up the pattern of the river and crocodiles that swam over his hips. Kip took a moment to stroke the pointed ears of Anubis on his chest, and smiled down at the dog.

“At least I won’t be alone out there, eh boy?” Kip wrapped a blanket around his shoulders to keep from shivering, and waited, listening to the shouting and cheers from the hall outside.

His uncle had explained each canvas was appraised individually, and then there would be a line up, lots of staring, and the judging. Either way, there would be quite a lot of standing for photos. Dirk Jeroen Meijer was the last to be judged, of course, and Kip found himself tapping one foot, and wishing it was already over. He had spent two hundred hours and nearly three years sitting, waiting, and wishing for this moment, but now the only person he really wanted to show off for was half way around the globe. Kip thought of Niels, and hoped he could find a way to see the Dutch boy soon.

There was a swell of cheering from the other side of the doors, and Kip heard his cue. He left the blanket, walked from the room, down the little curtained corridor, and out onto the stage. Kip had never felt so exposed in his life, but he wasn’t there as himself. He found his uncle’s smile, grinned back, and strode out onto the stage as though he wasn’t wearing about enough cloth to inadequately cover a small bunch of grapes. He turned slowly on the spot when he reached the white mark on the floor, and saw above the heads of the crowd, his own image reflected back from the big screens. Kip could hardly believe he was looking at himself, because the man in the video was confident, self-assured, and beautiful. Kip’s smile only became brighter.

He barely listened to his uncle talking about the work on his skin, explaining the meaning behind the tattoo, and let himself be turned and gestured to, holding out his arm to show off the sleeve which featured the Goddess Bast commanding a host of smaller human figures. Kip knew he could sit like a champ, and decided standing as one for appraisal took about as much concentration. An official cameraman moved around him, taking close up photographs which were shown instantly on the big screen so the judges could critique individual lines and colour tones. It wasn’t until the cameraman drew back to take a head and shoulders snapshot that Kip was roused from his concentrated modelling by a voice in the crowd.

“American?”

He glanced around, scanning the sea of faces.

“Niels?”

There at the front was the Dutch boy, his shoulder conspicuously bandaged, waving frantically. Kip grinned, and hoped he wasn’t blushing too hard.

After that, Kip barely heard anything at all, because it took all his resolve not to just leap down off the stage and wrap his arms around Niels and never let go. He only realised his uncle had won when his own image flashed back up on screens all around the convention hall, and Dirk Jeroen Meijer wrapped his nephew in an enormous hug.

“JA! Gefeliciteerd!” Dirk almost shouted in his ear and Kip hugged him back. His uncle stared at him in wonder. “I’m so proud of you, little Kip.”

“Thank you Oom,” Kip kissed his cheek, and this time, his uncle knew he meant it. “You’re the best.”

“Yes I am,” Dirk grinned and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “smile for the cameras mijn Neef!”

The photographs, and the award seemed to take forever, but by the time his uncle had been officially certified as the winner of the International Tattoo Bodysuit Competition, Kip was desperate to find the Dutch boy. He went with Dirk back into the room where he had changed, pulled on a pair of shorts, and practically ran back to the convention hall.

“Hey!”

“Congratulations dude!”

“Awesome!”

People tried to talk to him left and right, but Kip only had eyes for Niels. The Dutch boy had found his way to the right place, and waited with his arms resting on the barrier by the stage, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not so shy now, American?” his grin was cocky, and Kip felt his anatomy do interesting things inside his skimpy underwear.

Kip smiled.

“Haven’t you left a guy waiting long enough?” he asked, holding out his arms. “Get over here.”

Niels wasted no more time, and Kip kissed him back as hard as he could. No one apart from his uncle and himself had ever touched his decorated skin, and Kip couldn’t wait to have Niels explore every single inch of him.

It was totally worth the wait.