Picking Up the Pieces

“You did good out there, Greenie Bean,” Tony told me, squatting down so he was level with my bottom bunk.

I smiled up at him and blushed, half because he complimented me, half because I probably looked atrocious in no makeup and my star wars pajama pants. “You too, Tone-tone,” I replied.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear, lips almost touching it, “I like your jammies.”

Oh god, he noticed. “Thanks,” I said awkwardly.

He adjusted himself so he was sitting criss-cross-applesauce beside my bunk. He held both fists up and showed me the tattoos on his knuckles. Though I had seen them before, I had never noticed what they said.

Star Wars.

“Wow, that’s hardcore,” I commented.

He laughed, his nose crinkling adorably, and shifted his fists so I could see his second set of knuckle tattoos.

Jedi Sith.

“Oh my god, seriously?” I laughed and shook my head at him. “That is just too great.”

“You should see Mike’s Harry Potter ones,” he said. “They’re hilarious.”

“I bet,” I replied.

Our laughter died down, and that’s when he spoke again. “You have any ink?”

I nodded. “I have a calavera, for my mom,” I told him. I pulled up my tank top a bit to show him the tattoo on my hip.

(a/n: a calavera is one of those mexican sugar skulls, for dia de los muertos)

“Cool,” he said, nodding. “You want more?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what to get, or where. I don’t really have the time either,” I admitted.

“I should take you to get one sometime,” he suggested.

“I’ll think about it,” I answered, winking.

He shook his head, smiling. “Goodnight, Zoe.” He leaned in, again, and planted a soft kiss on my forehead that caused me to blush, again.

“Night, Tony,” I whispered.