Changes

Tony padded out into the kitchen, ruffling her hair.

"Good morning, sunshine." Tom joked. She pushed him playfully as she walked by.
"Where's everyone?"
"Sleeping."
"It's almost noon."
"The party was pretty out of hand, you know."

Tony chewed her lip.

"Wanna go hang out? Like we used to?" She asked.

Tom hesitated. While he loved Tony, she'd been awfully...distant lately, at least to him. He wrinkled the newspaper, trying to give himself time. Tony saw his indecision.

"PLEASE, Tom?" She begged, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're practically family. Let's go out and do something WILD."

Tom relented and nodded. She shrieked in pleasure.

"I'll go get dressed."

~~~

And that is how Tom found himself in a tattoo parlor, barely half an hour later. Tony had jumped into the chair, already decided on what she wanted. The tattoo artist, a big, burly man called Chuck, stared at her. She pulled out a peice of paper.

"I want this. Across my shoulders."

Tom peered at the paper over Chuck's shoulder. Tony had obviously drawn it herself. In beautiful, intricate lettering, the words 'i hope you have the time of your life' were drawn. It was delicate and feminine, and full of meaning. Chuck nodded his approval, and began to replicate the feat on Tony's back.

Watching, Tom felt a vague amusement. Tony was sweating; droplets beaded on her forehead and she clenched her teeth as she looked at him.

"Can you hold my hand?"
"Are you going to break my fingers?"
"I'll try not to."

With a sigh, Tom got down on his knees and took her hand, resting his chin beside her head.

"What's Billie have to say about this?"
"I dunno...doesn't really have much to do with him, now does it?"

Tom shrugged.

"You ask his opinion on everything else...why should this be different?"

Tony stared at him, hurt.

"Tom, don't be like that. You know I love you, and the band."
"Sometimes...sometimes you really don't act like it, Tony."

It was a mark of how strong their friendship was that Tony understood exactly what he was talking about, and didn't get offended.

"I promise you, Tommy. I'm not going to leave."

He kissed gently kissed her forehead.

"Never doubted you'd say that, queenie."

There was an almost silent moment, punctuated by the buzzing of the needle. Then Chuck clicked it off, slapped Tony's ass, taped a peice of sticky, white material across her shoulders and hoisted her off the chair.

"Keep that on for about a week." He growled. Tony nodded, then turned to Tom.
"What are you getting?"

Tom's jaw dropped.

"Nothing. I hate needles, you know that."
"Come on! You've gotta get something."

Three minutes later, Tom was on his stomach, feeling the needle biting into his skin while he cursed. Tony, to her credit, looked guilty.

"Sorry."
"Don't be." Tom lied through gritted teeth. "Been meaning to get a tattoo for ages."

Tony just smiled and ruffled his hair.

When the entire, wretched procedure was finished, Tom had a delicate Celtic cross between his shoulder blades, the skin around it red. Chuck gently fastened the sticky paper to it.

"You leave that on for about a week too. And I don't wanna hear about any infections. You keep it clean, you'll have no problem."

With that, he turned them out of his shop. Tony turned to Tom.

"What do you think Billie's going to say?"