Across the room, the buzz of the tattoo needle started up. Frank frowned when he was concentrating, and he did this thing where he stuck the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth. Once Mikey bet him that he couldn't paint his nails neatly without doing the tongue thing. Frank made a total mess, and Mikey made five bucks. It was awesome.
Frank set his free hand against the back of Bob's head, and lifted the needle. "Okay," he said, and he only sounded a little nervous. "Here we go."
"You got it, Frank," Bob said, bowing his head. "Just take it slow."
It was interesting, Mikey thought, watching Frank work. He was completely still except for his hands moving, and even the one holding the gun was almost motionless, moving in tiny, even strokes.
"These things are so crappy," Ray grumbled, shaking out the cord of the motel blow-dryer. "I could dry your hair faster by blowing on it myself."
He still fired it up, though, and Mikey closed his eyes, letting Ray tilt his head this way and that as he worked. It was awesome that Ray had found his calling as an herbal magic guy or whatever, but Mikey missed having his hair done every morning. Back when they worked in the shop it was like no matter how hung over he was, how worried he was about Frank's latest health crisis, or how much he missed his brother, he always felt better after twenty minutes in Ray's chair.
It was the same now, he could feel all the tension draining out of him, it was even better than the shower. Ray never made you feel like you'd wronged him terribly in a former life and now he was going to use his comb to take your ears as punishment, and Mikey never got flat-iron burns the way he did when he straightened his own hair. It was the most relaxing thing in the world.
"All right," Frank said a while later, wiping Bob's skin over one last time. "Moment of truth."
They all trooped into the bathroom after Bob, and Brian held up a hand mirror so Bob could check himself out in the reflection. It felt like everyone was holding their breath while Bob looked, frowning and turning the mirror from side to side. Frank was practically vibrating next to Mikey, chewing his lip.
"Hmm," said Bob eventually. "Nice job."
Frank went, "Fuck yeah!" and high-fived Bob before grabbing Mikey and tackling him all the way across the room and onto the bed. "In your face!" he crowed, even though Mikey never said he was going to mess it up.
"Your aftercare sucks," Bob said, coming out of the bathroom. "You didn't even wrap it up."
Frank waved him off, stretching out on the bed. "That's Toro's thing."
Ray went and got the tub of ointment he'd made out of his bag, and motioned for Bob to come over. "There's enough left for you. I'll have to make some more for when you get yours, Gerard."
"Never gonna happen," Gerard said, skirting quickly past the chair with the needles on it.
Brian made a face. "You can't be more afraid of needles than you are of dying."
"That argument doesn't hold water," Gerard settled on the bed with Frank and Mikey. He handed Mikey a book, and set another one on Frank's belly, making him go 'oof' and curl up. "If you stick a needle in me, I will die."
"What about if you need a shot, like, from a doctor?" Frank grabbed the book and pulled himself to sit up. "What happens then?"
Mikey laughed. "Oh my God, it's hilarious. He has to lie down and the doctor has to do special breathing with him."
"Shut up," Gerard said, smiling.
"In through the nose, out through the mouth," Mikey said in a high-pitched voice. "The nurses have to hold his hand."
