to the moon. /m.c./

f o u r t y f i v e

"Truth," Michael said, taking the last sip of his fourth beer. "No wait--dare."

"I dare you to get a tattoo," I said, smirking.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"Alright, guys, you heard the lady. We'll be back in a while." Michael grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door, right to his car. "Tell me the truth. You just wanted to make out with me."

I sighed. "A bit. But if I just wanted to make out with you, I'd have dared you to." I plugged my iPhone into the car and began playing Fall Out Boy. Michael leaned forwards and kissed me, pushing me back against the window. His breath smelled like beer, and his lips were soft and warm. "Mikey, you should drive a couple blocks away so that they don't see us."

Michael moved back to his seat and started the car, driving a couple blocks and then stopping again. "Just ten minutes, and then I get the tattoo."

"Ten minutes," I repeated. He smirked and leaned back in, his lips against mine. 

"How do your lips always stay so soft?" He laughed against my lips and then caught me off guard, biting my lower lip and pulling at it. I let out an involuntary moan which made Michael laugh, and he sat back in his seat, cackling.

"You ass!" I hit his chest. "That's not funny."

He put the car in drive and looked in front of him. "I can't lie, it was kinda hilarious."

We drove in silence for the rest of the trip, the only sound Michael humming along to whatever song was playing. 

We got to the tattoo parlour and I held the door open for him. "Age before beauty."

He frowned. "I'm only a year older than you, numbskull."

After nearly thirty minutes of choosing, Michael finally settled on a tattoo on the inside of his upper arm, reading 'To the Moon.'

"Why are you choosing this one?" I asked, looking Michael in the eyes.

"I'll tell you when I'm sober," he responded, a smirk on his lips. The tattoo artist began drawing on his arm, and Michael squeezed my hand, staring into my eyes. "This hurts more than I thought it would."

"Aww, I'm sorry." I gave the back of Michael's hand a small kiss, rubbing my thumb against it slowly.

Within fifteen minutes it was done, and Michael looked at me with a smile. "I did it! Take that, kitten!"

I smiled. "Congrats, Michael. Now we both have tattoos."

"What does yours mean, Josie?"

I smirked at him. "I'll tell you when I'm sober."