Clearing out the random headcanons/AUs/rough drafts in my Googledocs that won’t get fics anytime soon. If anyone wants to add on/chime in/create something, feel free.
Here’s some tattooed angst for your Thanksgiving. I think this started out with Smith saying “my rose is in bloom” in some vid, and somehow that evolved into everyone having tattoos.
And then I ended up putting a lot of personal feelings into Trott’s character.
Even though this is a lot of information (and a stupid amount of links) I don’t think it’s a story that I’m going to finish. So. Here’s the framework. Hope you enjoy.
cw: tattoos, piercings, smoking, drinking, sex, mental health issues, brief sexual harassment, brief gendered slur?, mention of medication, mention of needles.
If I need to tag something, let me know.
Smith tattoos inspiration, nsfw
Trott’s flat inspiration?
Smith and Ross (nsfw?)
Smith and Ross’ apartment living room above the garage (partial nudity?)
with a sleek black harley
tattooed up, long-legged, but sullen. dark skinny jeans and dark colored shirts. generic emo band music. headphones around his neck
Angor did Smith’s tattoos
he’s got skulls and guns and knives on one sleeve, grenades, torpedos, and a tank on the other, all surrounded in smoke. with pocket watches and keys thrown in here and there. he collects both. dad was a surveyor who found all kinds of weird stuff. Smith’s tattoos are black and gray, and Trott’s are pastels.
(writing this, I realized Ross is navy, Smith is army, and Trott’s air force. Water, earth, air. How strange. maybe Trott’s from an Air Force Family, but his eyesight isn’t 20/20, so that dashed his adoptive father’s dreams and he’s been bitter ever since. Ross joined the Navy out of high school, served all 8 years on active duty. then set up mechanic shop. mostly fixed engineering issues on ships. got to see different part of the sea. and the world. Japan and Italy, mainly. Smith’s just always liked history and guns. never actually interested in the army. does airsofting though)
Ross, works at the shop with Smith. has piercings. a stud (and a ring) in each earlobe. two helix rings on the upper right ear, one ring on the left side. one stud in his lower left lip, which he subconsciously chews at all the time. tongue piercing. left eyebrow piercing.
he’s thought about getting a tragus on the inner cartilage of his left ear
(DM me on Discord if you wanna see the punk edits of Ross I did)
EAT SHIT knuckle tattoos.
wears white t-shirts and acid washed jeans that are forever grease-stained. has an old, ’71 Corvette in shit shape that he spends his free time trying to fix up.
has a rough background. got into a lot of fights at school because of bullying, but he got stronger, more intimidating. used to be an asshole. mellowed out a lot once he graduated high school. got a mechanic job, worked his way up. he owns this place. cape cod sorta pier. likes sailing. owns a boat house, with a nearby garage for his cars.]
((takes Trott sailing once, Trott doesn’t know how Ross can stand the spray in his face))
upper arm tattoo, in realistic color, which is all he has besides the knuckles:
Trott/Trott’s tattoos from the gay bar au:
A pastel hummingbird on one forearm (courage, determination), surrounded by baby blue orchids (strength, innocence, love) and pink lilies (humility, devotion, an innocent soul). On the other is a purple chrysanthemum (honesty, optimism) with it’s petals falling off, a silvery blue-grey dove (peace, love, hope, promise), and pink carnations (affection, admiration, love).
In total: 6 tattoos for his sleeves. courage, determination, strength, innocence, love, humility, devotion, an innocent soul, honesty, optimism, peace, hope, promise, affection, admiration
Trott got his tattoos from Flux Ink. a little place across town from the bar. his friend Nano runs it. she’s covered in purple swirls and flowers.
wanted a common kestrel with wings spread, over his chest, wingtips on his collarbones.
gray and brown and black, with yellow eyes, beak, and talons. surrounded by white and blue watercolor clouds (the power and vitality of nature) fitting over his heart
thinking about ivy climbing on either side of his ribs. (growth, closeness, stability)
Trott and Nano don’t get each other birthday presents. but she does tattoo work on him, and he allows her to take photos to use, and promotes her shop.
so the coloring has to be done, but the outline is complete when Trott gets involved with Smith. and Ross.
(kissing, biting just below the bird’s wingtips)
what if Trott’s family fought so much that he ended up in foster care at a very young age. doesn’t remember his parents, only foster parents and case workers.
“how do you deal with that? I don’t know if it’s better, not knowing them at all.”
foster dad had two sons and a daughter, and all joined the air force. foster mom was pretty accepting but foster dad was not. foster mom wanted another kid, and foster dad’s kids were her step-children. but Trott never really considered her mom so much as legal guardian who signs all his papers. (the only close thing they did was garden together. as a result, Trott finds that spending hours planting and watering the plants is very calming) after spending so long in the foster care system, he’s been jaded. calls them by their first names. was adopted at age 12. adopted half-siblings were 16, 19, and 23. so, only two in the house, one part time because of college. Dan and Cathy. Alyssa, Benji, and Mitchell.
pretty much got ignored or shut out. talked over. forgotten.
Trott left his foster home at age 16, became his own parent. went to night school to get his GED. been working odd jobs ever since. moved here and started working through community college a few classes at a time.
Being alone for so long, it feels weird to let others in. It’s not so uncomfortable, necessarily, but he’s unaccustomed to sharing or being able to talk about his life. He’s not used to others being interested in what he has to say.
Decisive. Honest, but doesn’t think his opinions matter
Trott with short cropped hair and short sides
“You have got to be fucking kidding me…” Trott angrily tore the paper from the front of his apartment door. There was not enough coffee for this.
The locks had been changed.
Thunk head door groan. Office was closed, because it was half past four.
He hadn’t been home for three days, because his car decided to take a shit and he was working overtime at Hooks.
He had two options: sleep on the floor, or try to get a hold of Nano, who would have to turn around and come back after dropping him off.
The office opened at seven.
Trott stops by the shop to get his car looked at.
Ross helps him out.
Smith watching Trott watch Ross.
“you know what, I think I left them in the ignition! sorry, be right back.” chuckle, darted off.
Smith leaning over the counter, chatting
“do you wanna get a beer sometime?”
“um…sure?” was he? getting asked out, or…?
“great!” Smith scratched down something on a piece of paper and slid it over to Trott across the counter. “there’s your receipt, too. text me when you’re free, and we can have a cider and chat.”
“right. um. thanks?”
“here’s your keys! sorry about the wait.” Ross jogged back in and handed Trott his keys back. “I pulled out in front for you, too.”
“that’s- alright. thanks.”
“have a nice day.”
Ross and Smith watch the man leave, humming appreciatively.
“just had to pull out in front of him to show off, didn’t you?”
“shut up, you filthy wanker, I know you gave him your number”
Smith squawked indignantly. “what the fuck, no I did not.”
Ross laughed his way back to the workshop. “uh huh. sure, smith. and neither of us stared at his ass on his way out.”
jokes about lube jobs
you know Ross has fucked Smith over a car in their shop. fingering him.
Smith jacking him off.
the bar/pub Trott works at is a nautical themed place, it’s been redone several times to fit the modern atmosphere. kept the polished wooden floors, the high beams in the ceiling. the servers all wear black jeans and pastel long-sleeved button-down shirts. mint green shirt. name tag reads “Chris”
Hooks & Sinkers, but normally just called Hooks. walls are a pastel blue. booths have been reupholstered with stormy gray faux leather. white painted chain chandeliers hang overhead, the same color as the plain rescue ring over the bar and the rope edging the room.
mozzarella sticks, potato skins
(changed gay bar to just a pub/eatery)
fish and chips pub by the pier
Trott sucks in a deep breath and tries to be friendly to his last customers of the shift
“Hey, my name is Chris and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Can I start you off with anything to drink? We have Pepsi products, juice, coffee, tea, and all assortments of brews, bevs, and beers.” rattles off his memorized speech.
Smith and Ross are there
fast forward to Smith and Trott hanging out. getting some drinks. Smith asking to kiss him, and Trott relenting, somewhat hesitant because he doesn’t know what Smith wants of him.
Smith kisses him. “Do you want to go back to my place?”
“I…” Trott shakes his head and pushes Smith back a step. “Not tonight- we shouldn’t.”
“Oh. Well, okay. I mean, we don’t…we don’t have to have sex, if that’s…”
“I’d rather not. Tonight.” Trott swallows thickly. He barely knows this guy…
Smith nods. “That’s fine, really. Do you…we could just make out some more? Or watch a movie? I’m okay with that.”
Trott takes a deep breath and lets it out again, looking past Smith to something he can’t see. “Could we go somewhere else? If that’s alright?”
“Yeah, sure.” Smith smiles and takes his hand. “I know a spot you might like.”
converted house bookstore
metal spiral staircase
back corner behind a curtain is porn
loveseat tucked in the far reaches of the store. lack of stains, sits down
“this isn’t the quickie part of the store is it?”
“Nope. But it is the fantasy section.” Smith sits down beside him and throws an arm over the back of his shoulders. “is it alright if we make out again?” he asks with an eager smile.
“Yeah.” Trott nods, and leans into Smith’s touch.
later, meeting up again. Trott’s place
“do you mind?” waves the pack of cigarettes. “I should quit, but. well.”
Smith nods. “I don’t mind. spare one?”
“sure. one less I’ll coat my lungs with”
“I’ve been meaning to quit myself” Smith mutters, turning the cigarette over in his fingers
take space on either side of Trott’s three feet wide tiny balcony
lean up against the banister
“Ross wants me to. I know he’s right. but every so often I crave it, you know? and I can’t”
Trott hums, lighting his first and then holding out the lighter for Smith. Smith wouldn’t have pegged Trott as a smoker, if he hadn’t met him when he did. he fits all the stereotypes, but Trott…Trott doesn’t seem like it fits him.
Trott breathes out a long stream of smoke and stares out at the city
“Are you and Ross…”
he doesn’t elaborate. Smith doesn’t know what to say. “Are we what?” he asks, taking a drag from his own cigarette.
“Together? I don’t know. Forget it, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“it’s alright- I don’t mind. we’re…sort of? I guess? it’s not really confined to labels.”
Trott stares out into the city. Smith looks in that direction, out at the hills and buildings dipping and rising along the horizon
“you see that warehouse in the distance? the glass panes in the roof?” Trott asks. he points and Smith follows the gesture to the building Trott mentioned.
“What about it?”
“it’s a goal.”
Trott sighs and flicks the ashes off his cigarette, not looking Smith in the eyes. “you asked if I had any goals. what I wanted to do. and that there, that’s it. it’s an old greenhouse. I want to save up enough money to restore it, and open a garden center.”
that’s what he’s saving money for, currently, keeping his tips and spare change in an empty cookie jar on the counter.
Smith and Trott sleeping in the same bed
Trott peers out the window. “huh. neighbor’s roses are in bloom.”
“my rose is in bloom”
Trott raises an eyebrow “are you talking about a horrible rash, or is that just a terrible innuendo?”
“I figured you could take a look at it, mr. science doctor man.”
“I’m a botanist, Smith, not a health advisor.”
Smith rolls his eyes. “yeah, and they’re roses. but no, I don’t have a rash. I’m not diseased, thank you very much.”
he rolls off the bed and starts tugging at his jeans. “c’mere.”
“what the fuck-”
“I’m not getting my dick out, just look.”
tattoo of roses
inner thigh, high up near his crotch
“I was drunk, it was stupid, but it exists. now you know. luckily I got someone experienced to do it, so it didn’t get diseased or anything.”
“fuck if I know, I was drunk.” Smith shrugs and re-zips his pants. “at least they’re pretty.”
the tattoo artist had to be up close to your dick to do that.
“Tom’s seen my dick, but that’s beside the point.” Smith grins.
Ross and Trott talking, Trott’s apartment
“I tell myself I shouldn’t miss what I had. And I don’t.”
“Is it so wrong? To want validation?
“All I want is to be told I’m doing something right. That I’m…needed. Wanted. That-
“That I’m actually important to someone.
“And I don’t want to hear it after I’ve said this, an ‘oh you are important’ bullshit statement. It doesn’t mean anything, because it’s like I’ve been begging for it, come on, being selfish by wanting something more from people, because I’m so fucking entitled.”
“Trott…you are one of the least selfish, entitled people I know.”
“Do you really know me, Ross?” Trott whispers.
Ross shrugs. “Does anyone? I want to know you better, Trott. But unlike you, I don’t care what sort of terrible ugly you think there is inside you.” He moves closer to Trott as the winter wind blows through them. “Do you want to know what I know about you already, Trott?”
“No. No, I don’t.” Trott swallowed thickly, clenched his gloved hands around the cold metal railing. He really didn’t. He didn’t think he could stomach the too-nice words, the pleasantries, of Ross trying to make up for the things Trott felt were failures inside him.
“…Okay.” Ross said.
“I said, okay. If you don’t want to know, then I won’t tell you.”
Trott opens his mouth and then closes it again. “Nobody just-”
“‘Nobody just’ what?” Ross asks gently.
Trott doesn’t know what to say. He shakes his head. “Nobody just…listens. To me. Nobody just listens to me and- and respect what I have to say.”
“Well, I don’t know who ‘nobody’ is, but those other people sound like right pricks.”
Trott snorts. “Did you just make an Odyssey reference?”
“Maybe I did.” Ross smiles. He shuffles a little closer and places his gloved hand over Trott’s.
Trott stares at it for a few moments, letting the heat seep through to warm him.
“Do you want to get out of the cold? It’s warmer in there, you know.” Ross gestures towards his apartment.
Trott sighs deeply and nods. “Yeah. I don’t think I can feel my face.”
“Not your face, no! We can’t have that fall off from frostbite, Trott, you’re too pretty!”
Trott laughs a little in disbelief and lets Ross tug him back inside.
Ross strips off his coat, hat, and gloves the minute the balcony door is closed. Trott moves slowly, hanging up their things near the door while Ross peruses through Trott’s cabinets in search of hot chocolate.
life is a drain
Trott wants to start his own garden center. the community college classes he’s taken have been business and accounting and ecology and botany, stuff like that.
he keeps “admiring” this foreclosed warehouse on the south side of the city. with great glass windows lining a peaked roof. it would cost a lot of money to buy and renovate- money he doesn’t have.
Trott getting harassed leaving work
whistling, cat-calling “Hey, pretty boy, looking for some customers? I got the dick, if you want to suck it.”
(Ross and Smith are taking him home because his car’s at the shop again)
Ross turns around and scowls at the men across the street. “Hey fuck-face, you got a problem?” he shouts.
“Ross-” Smith warns, grabbing his sleeve.
“I wasn’t talking to you, cunt. Mind your own business.”
“Maybe I want to make this my business, motherfucker.” Ross makes to push up his sleeves and stride across the street, but Smith grabs his arm and pulls him away.
Ross seethes silently as they continue on. Trott ducks his head down and keeps walking.
“Are there always guys like that outside your work, Trott?” Smith asks carefully.
“I would have busted their faces in if you wanted me to. What a bunch of disgusting dicks.”
“Gonna tell them to eat shit, mate?”
“You bet I fucking would.”
greenhouse building costs half a million dollars
including cost of repairs and the down-payment. the costs of insurance and startup
Trott saved a little each month, provided no new things come up and he gets steadily paid. but tuition, unexpected bills, and car trouble gets taken out of his savings.
it’s an impossible dream. he’d be dead before realizing it.
the power going out in Trott’s apartment. Ross staying with him while Smith’s at the shop. they were all supposed to go out together, but Trott’s been drinking. surly. forgot. another balcony scene.
“sorry I’m late, work at the shop ran later than I expected. smith’s still there finishing up.
“I uh, I brought dinner. you wanna eat?”
shrug. “not really.” mumble, finger the neck of the bottle.
trott had bought beer for Smith and Ross coming over. started drinking when they didn’t show up.
“I think I’m cursed. Because everyone around me keeps leaving. And sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m better off this way- better off alone.”
“I tell myself I shouldn’t need people. I’ve always been alone; I should be fine. No one ever stays, and I should get used to that before it happens again.”
“You’d be better off forgetting me.”
“That’s not true…” Ross whispers.
“Why the fuck not? Huh? Tell me why the fuck not, because I-” Trott cuts off, voice choking. He finishes his drink and pushes the empty bottle off the railing. The glass crashes to the concrete below. “I’ve never been-” Trott clears his throat. He speaks raspily. “I’ve never been someone that somebody’s wanted to keep close.”
“Everyone leaves, Ross. Everyone. Why should I think you and Smith are going to be any different?”
Ross opens his mouth and closes it again. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, “but I want to earn your trust.”
Trott says nothing.
Ross doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know what to say. “do you want to eat?”
“you really should.”
“okay.” Ross picks up the remainder of the beers. “I’m going to put everything away in the fridge, then.” he disappears inside.
Trott takes a deep breath and sighs. feeling more miserable than anything. drizzling rain starting, making the backs of his hands and his hair wet. he downs the last of his beer and shoves the bottle off the balcony, hearing the crash before disappearing inside. Ross is still at the fridge. he ignores him and beelines for his bedroom, changing quickly as a drunk person can and curling up in bed.
he’s on the edges of sleep when he hears movement behind him
“Trott?” there’s a hand on his back.
“…what?” he sighs. it sounds angrier than he wants it to.
“Do you want me here? I don’t want to leave while you’re still drunk, but if you want me in the living room instead, I’ll go.”
that sounds worse. he doesn’t want to be alone. he really doesn’t. Trott groans a little and scoots towards the wall. “should stay. here.” he slurs. he just wants to sleep now. sleep off the drunken haze and forget yesterday. forget that people always leave him, and inevitably, smith and ross will do the same. he’s not noteworthy, important, or wanted in the slightest.
“okay.” hand strokes his hair. shuffling sound of shoes and clothes, and then Ross slips in bed next to him. arm curls around his waist, legs tangled with his. and before Trott can feel guilty, he falls asleep.
wakes to someone rubbing his back. turned sometime during the night, and face pressed into a shoulder. there’s a brush of stubble and chapped lips against his aching forehead. it’s Ross. still. he’d stayed.
as the seconds tick on, Trott’s headache makes itself present. last night comes back, and his mouth tastes stale and disgusting. fuck.
clatter and sounds of cursing, smell of cooking. someone’s in his kitchen. smith, by the sound of it.
Ross chuckles into his hair.
well, he probably knows Trott’s awake by now. Trott doesn’t want to move. but he badly needs a shower, and to brush his teeth. and something for his hangover.
he opens his eyes. “smith better not set my kitchen on fire.” he mumbles, squinting through too-bright-light.
Ross smiles at him. strange, after last night. “don’t worry, he’s trained in fire safety. how you feeling?”
“ugh.” Trott rubs his face with a hand. “garbage…”
Ross hums noncommittally and reaches onto the side table for something. “you were drinking quite a lot.”
“I don’t normally drink; this is why.” grumbles, accepting the ibuprofen and water Ross hands him, and taking it quickly.
trott feeling bad for sleeping with ross, wondering what smith thinks, wondering what smith did last night after work, if ross just told smith to stay home or what
awkward excuses himself to take a shower
when he’s done, his headache is gone and then he meets smith and ross in the kitchen
Smith makes a jokey cheerful comment, hands him a plate of food. none of which Trott had in his fridge. meaning he went out and bought or brought food to cook for him. you didn’t have to do all this… he thinks, keeping his mouth shut. he’s said enough, last night.
Trott sits down tentatively on the couch with them, all eating in silence.
it would be easier, he thinks, if they hated him. then when he hurt them, it wouldn’t be a surprise. he’d know for sure that he was a terrible person in their eyes. he’d know for sure that he was the villain in this story, that his role would be making everything worse.
he wasn’t, though.
but he wasn’t the hero, either.
he doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be.
Trott’s car breaking down again, another problem with it, and he screams into the storm, kicking at his tires. soaking wet. pouring down rain. slogs through puddle to a pay phone, listening to it ring, ring, ring and Ross picks up at the shop.
Ross gives him a tow. Trott shudders, a dripping mess. heater blasting
Smith offers him some clothes to change into after he showers.
Smith has really soft shirts. his band shirts are old and well-loved. big on Trott. they smell like his cologne, and Ross, and Trott sits for longer than he should in the bathroom, head in his hands, trying to get his breathing okay. trying to look like he hasn’t been crying or panicking.
“looks pretty crowded.” looks like there’s no room for me, he doesn’t say
“three’s company.” Ross smiles.
Smith lifts his arm. “you’re always welcome, Trott. c’mon.”
Trott likes when Smith leaves behind bruises
most people would say that’s possessive. marking. but…it makes him feel wanted.
it’s a dangerous path. because those aren’t one in the same. Trott sighs to himself and lowers his hand. he’ll believe it never.
Smith frowns awake as something wet drips down his neck. Trott’s tucked behind Smith, with Ross behind him. Trott’s face is buried in his hair. The hitch of his breath lets Smith know he’s crying. He hesitates for a moment, not knowing if Trott wants him to notice. But Ross’ hand un-entwines with his, and Smith knows he’s awake, too.
He rolls over, slowly. Trott buries his face in the pillows, and hides himself with his arms.
Smith curls back around Trott, meeting Ross’ eyes over his shoulder. “Hey, Trott? You alright?” he whispers. He rubs a hand up and down Trott’s back and kisses his hair.
When Trott’s breathing evens out again, Smith gently pries his arm away. His face is flushed red and tear tracks are painted clear down his cheeks.
the night that Trott breaks down in their arms and stays, the morning after he goes out for a walk. gets a coffee. buys a paper. there’s a job listing for a garden shop. assistant
Beth, pregnant lesbian. her wife owns a tea shop they keep open year-round. but with the baby coming, she needs help in the shop.
Trott sells his junk car. moves apartments.
Ross and Smith start courting him. taking him out to lunch.
“You would look good with pierced ears.” Ross says to Trott one afternoon they’re hanging out in Smith’s apartment above the shop.
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I’m sure Smith would agree.” turns his head and shouts downstairs (the apartment is lofted)
“Yeah?” clatter “ow, fuck! Shit, piss, shit a dick!”
Ross and Trott share a smirk
Smith climbs the stairs two at a time, greasy rag in his back (right) pocket
“You alright?” Ross asks
“Yeah, just dropped a wrench on my toe. What’s up?” catching his breath
“Wasn’t that important.” says Trott
Smith shrugs. “What’s your quandary, then?”
Ross smiles. “Trott would totally look good with pierced ears, wouldn’t he?”
Smith looks from Ross to Trott and nods. “Yeah, he would. wanna get your ears pierced, trotty?”
Trott shakes his head. “I don’t have the money for that.”
“I could do it.” Ross looks between them. “I mean, I did mine. I’d prefer proper equipment, though.”
“Maybe you could borrow some off Nano?”
“since when are you a piercing professional.”
Ross shrugs. “I’m not. but I’ve done my fair share of piercings. people in high school. pierced a guy’s belly button once.”
“I did all the research I could on it. I’m not stupid, I won’t fuck it up.”
“all it is is a needle through the ear, right?” raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Ross nods. they look to Trott.
“I don’t know. Are you serious?”
“If that’s something you’d like.”
“Just ‘cause we suggested it doesn’t mean you’d have to do it for our aesthetic benefit, Trott.”
Trott nods. “I’ll think about it.”
“you’re not allergic to any metals, are you? I think all of these are hypo-allergenic or whatever…”
“I’m not. so it’s fine.” balancing on the stool
“just two silver studs?”
Smith can’t stop staring when they’re done. the way they shine in the light in the morning.
Nano asking Trott to get some professional shots of his tattoos taken
they look really good. especially with the piercings.
(“hah, I have more tattoos than you!”
“it’s not a race, Smith.”
Trott has 6 going on 7
Smith has two full sleeves (effectively 8), and the rose crotch tattoo, so, 9. he reaaaaaally wants a back piece. like reaaaaally reaaaaaaaaally wants one, but it’s so much time and money, and he doesn’t have any of that yet.)
Smith gets a tattoo for Trott and Ross, the back piece he wanted so badly. a dark gray plumed pacific reef heron for Ross, , (by Angor) and red cherry blossoms for Trott (by Nano).
(shrewd, intelligent, determined, Grace, Solitude, Patience, Longevity, Versatility, Tranquility, Good Luck, Partnership, Domesticity, Presence, Independence, Resourcefulness, diversity, easy transitions, a sign of liminality – of crossing into the a space that is neither here nor there, maintaining stability, calm and fluidity in living life, support, togetherness and teamwork)
(the ephemeral nature of life, transience, beauty, volatility, mortality, gracefulness, destiny, karma)