Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Fuck you!" Barty slurred, trying to right himself as he wiped the little bit of blood off his lip.

He stumbled out of, or rather, was forcibly removed from the pub he had spent the last few hours, drowning his sorrows until they turned into anger, and he got into a small fight with some guy who bumped into him on his way to get another drink. He turned around to flip them a finger right before the door closed. Barty scoffed. He didn't want to be there anymore anyway.

Stupid pub. Stupid job. Stupid fucking ex-boyfriend. Why did he care so much anyway? It's not like they ever did anything for him anyway. He was better off without them.

Barty stumbled down the street, tripping over his feet every couple of feet. He turned and glared at the ground that dared to be in his way, his vision blurring, but only slightly. He was still sane enough, not that his father hadn't tried his hardest to beat him into insanity. No, he was still sane enough, despite his inebriated and sluggish brain, to make far worse decisions than they claimed he was capable of.

"It's just not going to work anymore," Brian, his now ex-boyfriend, said when Barty went to his house after he had been fired from his job. What kind of name was Brian anyway? It sounds like a name that would belong to some suburban dad in bum fuck nowhere, with his trousers pulled all the way up as he tried to make small talk with the children at the street party. "I refuse to pick up after another one of your bad decisions. You really need to take a hard look at your life, Barty, and figure out where it all seemed to go wrong and turned into bad decision after bad decision."

Barty ducked into an alley to heave up the alcohol that swished around his intestines from his walking and definitely not from the last conversation he had with his ex. He wiped his mouth, spitting the last of the bile on the ground before continuing down the street. He had no clue where he was going or what he was looking for, or if he was even looking for anything. That was until he tripped again and fell into a rubbish bin, and when he looked up, he saw it.

The familiar glow of the sign outside of a tattoo parlour. It was calling to him, pulling him in as if an invisible string was wrapped around his waist. It was a new one that he hadn't been to yet, but that certainly wouldn't stop him from going in. He didn't care if it turned out to be the sketchiest shop in town. He was getting a tattoo.

"You wanna see a bad decision, Brian?" he spat the name as if it tasted of acid on his tongue, "I'll show you a bad decision."

Barty grabbed the handle of the door, swaying only slightly, and opened it. He walked into the lobby, half expecting to be kicked out as soon as they saw his current state. Straightening his back and trying to appear sober, he walked up to the counter and hit the bell. Barty hiccuped, swallowing back the bile that threatened to breach his lips as he blinked his eyes a couple of times to somehow make them appear less bloodshot. It took a few minutes, or maybe it was seconds; he didn't know, as time seemed to warp around him. Either way, someone walked out of the back room, and Barty froze.

"Can I help you?" the bespeckled man, no, not man, pure sex on a stick, asked with a welcoming smile.

"God, you're beautiful," Barty mumbled, staring up at the man, his inhibitions completely leaving him.

The guy chuckled and raked his eyes up and down Barty's frame. He rested his elbows on the counter as he leaned a little closer to Barty, flashing him a smile that made his heartbeat pick up as his stomach flipped.

"You're not so bad yourself, love," the sex stick remarked in a low whisper, winking before standing back up. "That aside, can I get you a bottle of water or something? You seem a little unsteady on your feet."

"No," Barty shook his head, the movement making him sway even more. "No, I'm not. I want a tattoo," he slurred, his words coming out in a jumble.

The guy looked at him for a second before coming around the counter, resting a hand on Barty's elbow. Barty stared at it for a second, then looked up and blinked slowly at the guy, trying to force his brain to interpret what it meant.

"Ooo, are you taking me to bed?" Barty asked with a giggle as he leaned into the guy.

"I wouldn't say no to that in the future," he replied with a flirtatious smile, "but right now, I'm gonna have you sit down before you keel over in my lobby." Barty nodded without telling himself to, and then he was sitting in a chair over to the side of the lobby. "Marls, can you grab me a water?" the bespeckled man called into the parlour, and a blonde appeared a few moments later, handing a bottle of water to him. She said something, but Barty didn't hear it. "Thanks." The guy turned back to Barty with a gentle smile as he handed it to him. "I'm James, by the way. What's your name?"

Barty blinked once, twice, three times before he realised the guy, James, – such a perfect name for the perfect guy in front of him –, was talking to him.

"B-Barty," he slurred.

"Well, Barty, as much as I hate to turn away business, I can't with a clear conscience give you a tattoo in your current level of intoxication." Barty pouted. He'd actually forgotten why he was there once he saw the g–James. "I can," James continued, "however, offer you a place to sober up for a bit and then give you a ride home after I close up shop."

"To your house?" Barty perked up.

"No, your house," he clarified, and Barty pouted again. "And when you are sober and have a clear head on your shoulders," James patted him on the shoulders, "if you still want that tattoo, you can come back in and I'll do it."

"Why are you being nice to me?" Barty asked, the words falling out of his mouth without his permission as he closed his eyes in a long blink, swaying a little and almost falling out of the chair.

James caught him by the arm before he fell and opened the bottle of water for him to take a sip when he was firmly in the chair again.

"Because everybody deserves someone to be nice to them," he said simply.

Barty leaned back in the chair and thought about that as he took a drink, missing his mouth on the first try, but getting it on the second. It sounded so simple, but nothing in Barty's life had ever been simple. Could he have been overcomplicating things his entire life?

"Sound like a plan?" Barty nodded, and James stood up, patting him on the knee. "Okay, I'll be over here. Holler if you need anything."

James walked back over to the counter where the blonde was standing behind it and had a conversation that Barty couldn't hear, but knew that it was about him. James kept pointing to him, and the girl glanced over every few seconds, nodding her head. Eventually, James went back behind the counter, and the girl handed Barty something to eat and a cup of coffee, claiming it would help him sober up before she disappeared behind the counter too. Barty sat there as his thoughts took over.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad decision to come in here after all.

Chapter Text

Barty woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, trying to make it go away as he forced his brain to remember anything from the night before. It had been a while since he'd drunk enough to forget why he had been drinking. Groaning, Barty pushed himself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He grabbed the painkillers from the medicine cabinet and tossed them back.

After staring at his reflection in the mirror for a few seconds, he took a quick shower and tossed his dirty clothes in the basket, grateful he actually made it. He still smelled like alcohol and vomit, and that wouldn't go over well at work. Work, he thought. Barty groaned again as he remembered he no longer had a job. Oh well. It wasn't really a job he enjoyed to begin with; it was just one that paid the bills. It was a good thing he had a decent savings built up.

Barty figured since he didn't have to worry about going to work anymore, he would grab something to eat from the kitchen and a coffee before he headed back to bed to sleep off his hangover. On his way back to his room, Barty noticed his jacket thrown on the back of the couch. He grabbed it and checked the pockets until he found his phone. Naturally, it was dead, but there was a business card in the same pocket for a tattoo parlour with a message scribbled on the back. Not that Barty could make it out with his head still pounding.

Barty stuck the card back in his jacket after checking his arms and legs for any new tattoos. Once he made it to his room, he plugged his phone in the charger before crawling back into bed and burrowing himself underneath the covers.

Barty was walking around town absentmindedly, trying to clear his mind, when he turned down a street that he vaguely remembered. It was dark despite it being the middle of the day, but he couldn't get his feet to turn around. As if something was pulling him forward. He looked around for anything that stood out as his feet dragged him farther into the darkness.

Barty wasn't technically afraid of the dark. No, he was more afraid of what would come out of it, and it was all thanks to his childhood trauma. He kept walking forward, trying to get back to the light as his heartbeat picked up and his breathing started coming out in shallow gasps every time he passed an alley. A dark, sadistic laugh from the alley he just passed made Barty spin on his heel, just as his father walked out of it.

"You are nothing but a worthless piece of shit. A waste of space, time and money. I should have tried harder to kill you as a child," his father laughed as he pulled out a length of rope and stepped towards him. The same length of rope he used to tie Barty up as a child, so tight that he couldn't move a finger, and locked him in a dark, windowless room whenever he misbehaved. "Come here, you bastard of a son."

Barty turned and ran down the street, ducking into another alley right before his father caught up to him. He pressed one hand to his chest, needing the physical reminder of his heartbeat that he was alive, and the other to his mouth to stay quiet, in case his father came back. When he was sure he was safe, Barty peeked out to find the street empty. Sighing heavily, he walked out and kept looking for any source of light.

"I heard he slept with the boss's daughter and got her pregnant," one voice mumbled behind him.

"As if she would ever let him near her," another voice chuckled, and Barty spun around again to find two former coworkers sitting at a table, pointing at him. "I heard he purposely messed up the Hendersons' account because the client called him a loser. The Hendersons are our biggest client."

Barty stood there frozen. He didn't know what to do or say as they continued to point at him and laugh, chatting away as more people joined in the conversation. A door flew open on his right, and Barty spun around towards it.

"Crouch! Get in here!" his boss yelled. When he didn't make a move to go into the office, his boss continued to yell at him in front of everybody. "Worthless, waste of money. I never should have hired you. You've been a fuck up since day one. You're fired!"

Barty pressed his palms to his eyes, praying they would all go away. The sounds of talking and laughter faded slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, he was alone. Barty took a deep breath before picking up his pace, darting his eyes everywhere he could. There was a door ahead of him with a sliver of light peeking underneath the frame. He ran to it and yanked it open.

"Fucking slut. Never should have taken pity on you," Brain laughed darkly before slamming the door in his face.

Barty staggered over to a wall and collapsed to the ground as the tears fell from his bloodshot eyes.

He was worthless. Not worth the air he was breathing. Better off dead.

The thoughts raced each other through his mind until he believed they were true. When he looked down, there was a knife in his hand. He held it to his wrist, pressing harder until the skin broke. Somebody's hand covered his own, stopping him. Barty looked up with tears in his eyes to find a tan, bespeckled man with a gentle smile, glowing like the sun.

Barty shot up in bed, patting himself down and checking his wrist. It was a nightmare. Nothing but a nightmare. He sighed as he fell back on the pillows, the memories of the night before coming back clearer than the glimpses he'd gotten in the shower. He'd lost his job for missing too much work and forgetting one important detail of someone's account. His boyfriend of three years broke up with him, and he ended up at the pub until he got too drunk and was thrown out. All in all, yesterday was bad news after bad news until he found the tattoo parlour and met an angel.

Well, that explained the card in his jacket pocket.

Barty pushed himself out of bed, got dressed and went to check the card again. He flipped it over and over again in his hand before reading the front.

The Dark Lotus

Tattoos and Piercings

James Potter

Tattoo Artist and Owner

It also had a phone number and address, but Barty was more curious about the message on the back than looking up the place online. He flipped it over to try and read the messy writing. It was a little smudged from what looked like teardrops, but he could make out some of it.

Co*e ** bac* whe* y*ur he** is cl*ar.

J***s

Barty couldn't remember much from meeting James, or why he was even in the tattoo parlour, to begin with, but instead of wallowing in all his bad luck, he figured he might as well go back to the shop and ask.

Barty grabbed his jacket, phone and keys before he threw on his trainers and walked out of his flat. He strolled to the address on the card. It was only a few streets over, and he wondered for a second how he hadn't been there before. Turning the corner, Barty looked up and saw the sign: The Dark Lotus Tattoo in illuminated letters and a lotus flower blooming underneath.

When he reached the door, Barty saw a blonde at the counter, who appeared to be giving a girl a receipt. She walked away, and that was when he saw him. The tan, bespeckled man with tattoos and a gentle smile from his dream, chatting with the guy he was tattooing. Oh, I'm in so much trouble, Barty thought as he watched him move gracefully with the machine in his hand. His stomach did somersaults as he reached for the door, and the bell chimed.

"Welcome in. I'll be with you in just a moment," the artist called out without glancing up.

Barty froze; his knees were a little wobbly from the guy's voice that sounded husky but also smooth like silk. He didn't notice the artist was at the counter until he spoke again.

"Hey, Barty. Welcome back." The guy, Barty assumed it was James, smiled as his gentle hazel eyes danced behind his round, gold-rimmed glasses. "Still want that tattoo?"

Barty nodded before another thought crossed his mind. He had no clue what tattoo he was talking about, but he didn't care as long as the guy had his hands on Barty's body.

Chapter Text

"Great," James replied happily, and Barty wondered if it would be possible to bottle the pure joy that danced behind his glasses. "Why don't you have a seat over there and fill this out while I finish up with him?"

Barty looked behind James and noticed the guy was still lying on the table, waiting patiently for the artist to come back. He simply nodded again, grabbed the clipboard from James and found a seat after declining a beverage. As much as he wanted James' hands on him, Barty wouldn't interrupt somebody else's tattoo. He wasn't a complete asshole.

Barty finished the paperwork and brought the clipboard back up to the counter, where the blonde was now standing, shuffling some papers.

"All set?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"Yeah," Barty replied, handing it to her.

She looked it over and set it aside when she seemed to be satisfied that it was complete. She looked behind her until James nodded. Barty figured they would be able to have silent conversations if they worked together.

"James is just cleaning up. He'll call you back when he's ready."

"Okay."

"Would you like something to drink while you wait?"

"No, I'm good, thank you," Barty replied kindly before heading back to his seat.

He pulled out his phone to look up some tattoo ideas, since he still had no clue what he wanted. He glanced around the shop at the different designs, realising for the first time that James was really talented, and he couldn't help but wonder what made him want to open up his own shop. Barty tucked his phone away as he stared at a faded design, hidden behind some more stereotypical tattoos that people would get when they didn't know what they wanted.

The design was of a lotus flower half buried in some mud, the petals splattered with dark, wet earth. The couple of petals that were free of the dirt were vibrant and seemed to be reaching for the stream of sunlight that was poking through a canopy of trees, as if the flower was trying to escape to a better life. The colour in the design was muted except on the petals that the sunlight touched. The words 'No Mud, No Lotus' were written out in an elegant script underneath it. It was beautiful.

"Thinking about what to get?" James asked, making Barty jump and spin around to face him. He chuckled. "Sorry. I did call your name, but you seemed lost in a trance."

"It's fine," Barty said with a dismissive hand as he tried to get his heartbeat back to a normal pace. "Why is that one hidden?"

James looked at the board, his smile fracturing for just a second before his friendly, happy smile was back with force.

"It's just an older design," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Do you know what you want?"

Somehow, Barty was sure that wasn't the only reason. He could have sworn there was a flash of something painful in James' gaze before he tore his eyes away from the flower. He wanted to ask. Something in him wanted to know everything about this guy that he'd just met the night before, while drunk. He shook his head instead to answer James' question.

"Okay," the bespeckled artist nodded. "Why don't you come on back, and we can come up with something for you."

Barty followed him behind the counter to the table the guy before him had been lying on. James gestured to it, and Barty sat down while the artist pulled up a stool, grabbing a sketchbook off the back counter and flipping to a new page, touching the tip of his pencil to his tongue.

"So what are we thinking? You didn't specify what kind of tattoo you wanted when you came in last night, just that you wanted one."

Barty chuckled to himself. That made sense, especially if he was blackout drunk. It was a good thing James had the sense not to tattoo him, though it wouldn't have been the first time he woke up with a new tattoo on his body with no memory of getting it.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I don't really remember much from last night," he admitted sheepishly.

Now it was James' turn to laugh, covering his mouth quickly. "Sorry," he chuckled again, "I didn't mean to laugh. I'm just not surprised considering the first thing you did was hit on me."

Barty's eyes widened as he stared at James, praying he was joking with him. The small smirk that poked through told him that he wasn't, and Barty dropped his head in his hands, a little embarrassed by his past drunk self.

Great! Well, there went his chance to make a good first impression.

"Sorry."

James shrugged half-heartedly. "Don't be, I flirted right back, so it's fine."

Barty snapped his head up and blinked. Now he really wished he remembered last night.

"Now, back to the tattoo," James replied, getting back to business. "Personally, I like tattoos that mean something to me. Like this one-" He stood up, pulling up the leg of his pants to show two pairs of scarred handprints that could have belonged to little kids. "-reminds me of where I came from," he said quietly before dropping the fabric. "Or this one-" He pulled up the sleeve on his left arm to reveal a sunflower surrounded by thorns. "-is for my mother."

James was interrupted when the blonde came over and whispered something in his ear that Barty couldn't make out, not that he was trying to listen to their conversation anyway. Instead, he looked around the shop again and noticed that the blonde had the same tattoo of the scarred handprints in the same place as James when he noticed her leg. That was odd.

James sighed heavily as he looked towards the counter. "Yeah. I'll be there in a sec, Marls." She nodded and walked back to her station full of different piercings. "I'll be right back," James replied with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Barty watched him get up and storm up to the counter with an expression that screamed he was tired of whoever stood there's shit. He was a little shocked to see it, honestly, but it definitely made his stomach flip deliciously.

"What the fuck do you want, Corbin?" James practically growled at the guy, though it didn't seem to affect him.

"Oh, Jamie," he cooed. "Can't I stop by my brother's shop without wanting something?"

James crossed his arms over his chest, and Barty had to close his mouth to stop himself from drooling as his T-shirt stretched across a well-muscled back, rising up slightly to reveal a tattoo of a lotus. The same lotus from the board he saw earlier.

"First off, just because we were raised together does not make us brothers. And second, the only time you show up here is when you want something. So, I'll ask again, what the fuck do you want?"

"Ouch, that hurts, little bro," the guy, Corbin, remarked sarcastically as he put his hand over his heart as if he were wounded by James' words.

James didn't say anything, but Barty could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees with how thick the tension was.

"Fine, fine," Corbin threw his hands up in surrender. "I need a loan."

"No," James responded coldly before the words finished leaving the guy's lips.

"Oh, come on. I swear, it will be the last time I ask."

James cocked his head to the side before stepping closer to the counter and grabbed the guy's shirt, pulling him forward in a blink and you'll miss it second.

"Leave or I'll call the police on your ass again."

That seemed to get a reaction from him as all his cockiness from before fell from his features, and his gaze darted to the couple of guys behind him.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me. I don't need X-ray vision to see you're carrying, which I know for a fact is a violation of your parole."

"Okay, okay. God," Corbin said, backing away from the counter. "Heaven forbid family help one another. Let's go, guys."

James scoffed. "We're not fucking family, asshole," he hollered just before the door closed. James turned and walked back over to Barty calmly, the smile back on his face as he nodded to the blonde, Marls, in another silent conversation. "Sorry about that."

Barty sat there slack-jawed and way too turned on to think properly. James snapped his fingers in front of Barty's face, jolting him back to reality. He had an apologetic look on his face.

"If you want to leave, I wouldn't be surprised. Normally, I can keep my cool, but he pisses me off and I tend to forget who's around me," James said apologetically.

Something flew across the room, hitting James in the back of his head. He spun on his heel, and Barty wouldn't be surprised if he was glaring at the blonde, who glared back while she stuck her tongue out at him like a child.

"What the fuck was that for, Marls?"

She shrugged nonchalantly before walking over to him and kissing him on the cheek. "Stop apologising for standing your ground. Corbin's a dick, and you know he only comes in here to fuck with you. At least, there were no children around this time."

"That's true," James replied quietly, grabbing the blonde and putting her in a headlock before rubbing his knuckles over her head. He let her up after she poked him in the ribs and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Go back to work."

"I'm not the one with a client," she remarked, smacking him upside the back of the head and dancing out of his reach before heading back to her station.

James turned around slowly as if he had forgotten Barty was still there.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly before ducking as another pen flew past his ear. "Missed me." He spun around again just in time to get hit square in the face by another one. "Oh, you bitch." James turned back to Barty for a second. "Excuse me."

He moved so fast, the blonde screamed before running around the shop with James chasing her until she ran outside.

James held the door open and screamed, "Get me a drink."

"Get it yourself," Marls screamed back.

"Bitch."

"Dick."

"Cunt."

"Asshole."

There was a pause.

"Are you getting me a drink?"

"Yeah."

James chuckled as he closed the door and walked back over to Barty. And he couldn't help but pray they weren't dating. It would be just his luck that he fell for a straight guy.

"Now, where were we?" James asked casually as he sat back down.

"Are you two dating?" Barty blurted, clamping his hand over his mouth quickly as his eyes widened.

James stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing and nearly falling off his stool.

"Me and Marlene? Dating?" He shook his head quickly. "No, she's my sister." Barty was even more confused. They looked nothing alike, considering James had a darker complexion and she was, couldn't be mistaken for anything else, white. James must have sensed his confusion. "Foster sister," he clarified.

"Ahh, and the other guy?"

"Foster brother," James admitted, dejectedly.

"Okay."

Barty never had that kind of relationship, being an only child and all. Oh, plus the abusive father probably wouldn't have helped even if he did have a sibling. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought them together and how long James and Marlene had been foster siblings.

"Did you want to leave?" James asked after a few minutes of silence. "Really, I wouldn't blame you."

Barty snapped out of his thoughts. "Nah, it was entertaining," he replied with a wave of his hand, and hot, he didn't add. "But, can I ask you a question?"

James looked hesitant, which was fair given what had happened over the last ten minutes.

"It depends on the question," he answered after a while.

Barty smirked as he leaned a little closer, resting his elbows on his knees from where he still sat on the table.

"Wanna go on a date?" he asked hopefully, shooting his shot and praying that it would land.

James visibly relaxed in his chair and nodded, his smile coming back slowly.

"Sure. When?"

"Tonight?" Barty questioned slowly.

James rolled his chair over to the desk and grabbed something from underneath the counter before wheeling back. He handed a card to Barty after scribbling something on the back of it.

"That's my personal number. I close at seven, but could probably convince Marlene to lock up."

Barty's brain short-circuited for a minute as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"So, that's a yes?" he asked dumbly.

James smiled, wide and bright. "Yeah, that's a yes," he chuckled and shrugged before adding, "Besides, you already asked me to your bed once, figured I'd see if you're worth it or not."

James raked his eyes up and down Barty's body in a hungry gaze as he gaped at what he just said. Neither of them seemed to notice that Marlene came back until she was standing over them and scoffed, slamming the drink down on the table.

"Disgusting."

James smirked devilishly before he turned towards her. "It's not my fault you can't get a date."

"Oh, you fuc-" she was cut off by the chime of the bell, but glared at James before heading up to the counter to greet the people who just entered.

"So," James remarked, switching back to professional in a second, "still want that tattoo today?"

Barty shrugged. "Sure."

"Anything in particular?"

He shook his head. "You pick."

James hummed. "You are adventurous. This should be fun."

Barty wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't really care at the moment. He lay back on the table, and James drew something up and made the stencil before having Barty flip onto his stomach and placed it on the back of his calf. It didn't take long before James had the tattoo machine in his hand and his other hand splayed across Barty's leg, sending shivers up his spine.

He bit back the moan that threatened to escape as he lay his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes, letting the feeling of the delicious sex on a stick's touch melt him from the inside out.

This day couldn't have gone any better, and it was only looking up from here.

Barty had finally seen the light, and he wasn't ever going to let it go.