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He whuffed out a sigh of relief when she promised to pin it. The pin was in. The cab was there, and then they were in the cab. That's where things started getting dicey again. Once the address was given, Michael was looking at him with a very certain look in her eye.

What? In the cab!?

"I-" He cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his tee shirt. Hm. When did that get tight? Probably when he'd been stretched taut and put a pin in it. "I believe y' were convincing me of somethin'."

Were they absolutely shameless? Yeah maybe. It was becoming exceedingly more difficult to care when she was there and he was there and they were both... there. He leaned in close to whisper. He had at least that much dignity left.

"Y' cain't take it back." And since he was there, Noel kissed her neck and cheek as he spoke. "I've never- y've never... jus' be sure." Unfair maybe. But he would cross no lines until she pulled the pin. There was still time to invoke thoughts of baseball.

"Are you sure?"

Either this tattoo was faster or he'd actually dozed off. Either way, it was Noel shifting on top of him and a gentle poking prodding that was really heavily hinting that now was the time to pay for the tattoos. That got Noe- oh. Oh yeah he was Noel. Either way, he was getting up and he was paying. His phone had the app and the little cat nap had cleared a couple of the cobwebs away in his head. Enough cobwebs burned up that he even realized he should leave a tip.

He mumbled through moving a few decimals and basic arithmetic, scanned the scanny dobber-ma-hickey, and looped his arm around Noel's shoulders.

"No more work." He opened the door for their adjoined selves and their shoulder's wouldn't fit, but stubbornly Noel turned to the side to escort the lady Michael through rather than let go. There. That way they fit. "No more r'sponsibilities." He raised his eyebrows at her and took a breath of fresh, garbage-y New York air. And then coughed it back out. Yeah. Still New York.

"I guess I got t' pick activity number 1 so the rest o' th' night is y'rs t' do what you will." There'd been mention of coffee, though they really might have to get back and let Jude off the hook with the doggo situation. No! No responsibilities! "Where to?

Yes. The punchy one. Noel had to pay particularly close attention to the red-head's lips because the words coming out of her mouth were just South of intelligible. It seemed they knew each other. The hair? seemed to know the puncher, Saph, as did the red head.

"I- er- 'm sure you'd be an excellen' ass whooper, but-" but. BUT THERE WAS SOMETHING REALLY EGREGIOUSLY WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE. Like magnets, no matter how he tried to look away and stay alert and all that... he couldn't NOT look. His eyes just got zapped right back to the slight tummy shape... that little roundness that most people might not wear a bikini around unless it was something to be proud of, something special and ... and not made of fat.

"A man should never- neither a woman- you have- you. Wait." He couldn't ask 'are you pregnant or just holding a spare tire?' AT LEAST HE SHOULDN'T, ANYWAY. Noel held up his hands, surrendering before he'd ever even really started. "I'm all- discombobulated. Let me start again. Y'all are X-man? Men? People?" Were there X-ladies? "All a y'all?"

He would just have to stop smiling and batting his eyelashes at Saph for a moment. An X-man who hated Michael. Did that really change anything? Not especially. But with a sort of maybe potentially pregnant teammate and a woman whose hair was over friendly to leverage? Maybe... Maybe that changed something.

It did not feel... good. And yet...

"'ventally tha knife's gonna cut iddint?" He tried to shift his focus to something else like the worry for his arm’s integrity. He really wanted to shift his weight or move or something, but he'd already been admonished once.

He was a pillar.
He was a statue.
He was getting teased about wanting to get out of his pants, and that made him more rose granite than marble. Which was fine. The Texas capitol was made of that stuff.

He got a kiss for his trouble and wiggle that was crossing all kinds of wires. Noel realized he’d started to lean forward to chase her as she pulled away, but caught himself and had to lean back again. If he didn’t have to be still, he would have… something.

”Not sure if that makes it easier. Or harder.” Maybe a little from both columns, much to his continued mortification. He took to counting ceiling tiles. There were a few ugly ones and by the time he’d passed 20, his breathing wasn’t so ragged.

After what seemed an actual eternity of pin-pricking and vibration he felt down to the bones of his hand, the artist flipped his hand (with another reminder to be still, PERFECTLY still) and set to work on the fiddly bits.

Not too much longer and it'd be payback time.

> "If we switch back it’ll work out. If we don’t. I can accept being Noel."

That felt... huge. If this was forever, it was a token reminder of who they were and who the identities they were leaving behind. If it wasn't forever, then... uh... then it'd still be forever, but because they chose it. Because... uh. Reasons. Reasons were swimming around in his head and he was sure there were really good reasons, but he was having a hard time pinning any one of those reasons down. He dealt out a lot of those reasons already in the alleyway before they'd come in. Since they'd left his hands, they were now alluding him.

> ”Dare me t’ get one that says that?"

"Ew no. I do NOT dare, Mr. Madam. We're not country yodels who're parper... prrarpor.. porortea." Hoooo some words were just plain hard sometimes. He licked his lips and squinted at the spelling of the tattoo that looked like it was on the fleshy part of the hand. "Proper tea. Sides y'r fingers' too small. This's a hypo-then-ar... whatever that is." He pointed at the label, but Michael was already hummingbird flitting to the chair. She was so into it.

"Uh. You can sit together if you'll keep eachother still, sure. Keyword: Still. Be. Still." The artist was skeptical, clearly, but Michael intended to be on his best behavior. No. Uh. Noel. He was Noel. He was still gonna be nice.

"I don' s'pose y'r an ordained minister?" Noel slipped into the chair first and held out his hands for Michael to sit backwards on his lap so their left and left hands would be facing the same tatto support bench thingy.

The man working in the back snorted over his work while the woman fished tattoo gun parts from the cleaning liquid. To her credit, the question didn't set her too off balance.

"That'd be a big no from me, dog. You want to get married, go to city hall tomorrow. Best I can do is the rings."

"Rings're fine. Dunno if y' c'n tell, but we're pretty non-traditional." But, a promise for permanence... that was something. Rings first, rings second. Whatever. They'd be married enough to remember tomorrow.

"So- you want to be 'property of'...?"

"No! No." He'd responded with a little more force than intended and so immediately walked it back to a more simple negative. "Jus' the plain band. Names on th' inside like th' one on page 24." He raised an eyebrow at Noel in case she had other ideas.

"Are you... m'I still needle-proof?"

That got a big eyebrow from the tattoo artist who was in the process of flipping to page 24.

The way she deflated at the word 'platonic' meant she felt the current that ran between them too... Still, he couldn't fathom that would last forever? Could it? At least she didn't tease him about it.

The tease about marriage hit a little close to his thinking, and underst the rib-poking circumstances sounded like a bit of a threat. What. It wasn't like he'd knocked her up. Why would they be obligated to marry? And why was that terrifying? He was no longer under the threat of forgetting. And he was perfectly poised, maybe even obligated, to stay and make sure she didn't forget what was important.

> ”What kind uf tattoos were y’ thinkin’?

Absolutely every good thinking thought was gone from his head when she whispered in his ear. Tattoos? What were tattoos in the face of someon ya really wanted to have the backseat of a car alone with?

"Uh. A puma?"

A puma!? That wasn't- WHAT WAS A PUMA AGAIN!? No small amount of panic set in. Was he obligated to get some kind of pig tattoo now?

She touched him. He knew they were there by the coughs, but it seemed with as entangled as they were... Yeah. She got it and used him as leverage to scoot out of the cab first. That left Noel shaky and swaying with the cab fare. He scooted out after and leaned through the passenger-side window to pay by app. Paying by app was possibly his favorite part of waking up ten years in the future. It meant he could travel light.

And then he had to catch up to an enthusiastic Michael, who'd almost just waltzed right in to get herself a shiny new tattoo.

Noel grabbed her elbow and towed her to the side of the building. He slid one arm behind her torso and the other behind her head as he pressed her up to the concrete of the wall and scooted right in afterwards with a kiss to her cheek, too scared to go in for the real deal.

"Y' asked me what I wanted." Now it was his turn to whisper. Somehow it was much easier to admit that way, not having to see her face, just feeling how she'd react through the contact of their bodies. "I wanna grow up wi' you. I wan' ferever an' ferever is terrifying. I wan' y' t' take care o' me an' I wanna take care of you. What... what kind a tattoo is that?" He buried his face in her hair and shoulder, too cowardly to face the consequences of all he'd said. They were tied together already. He didn't want to trap her because of that.

He snorted, delighted that they'd managed a cab at this hour since he wasn't up to driving. Michael was pulling on his shirt and opening the door for Noe- uh for Michael. Yeah. That one— All while hearing Michael tell the cabbie BlacTac's address as she scooted in first.

Finally! He could shed all sense of responsibilities behind him for a hot minute. He'd had so much to think about thanks to the people he'd met inside and his head was swimming through it all, still.

Was it possible that he'd lucked into something sort of permanent?

"Wait. Is yous wet? Don' get yer wet butts on my dry seats!"

Noel lifted his butt up and held a kind of reverse plank, and he reached over with threatening pinchy fingers to make sure that Michael got the hint to make their ride go already.

"We good?" He felt his voice drop like a promise of danger. He was feeling... Impatient? They just needed to go, really.

There was mutterings about crazy and a cursory mention of safety, but it seemed good enough to get the car rolling.

"Across the bridge, ya say?"

"Akshally... Noll... NO-wellll." He snerked, feeling just a tiny bit mischievous as he rolled his head across the back of the car seat. "How ya feel 'bout tattoos?" This would really be a much easier conversation if they weren't keeping their butts off the seats. A hearty chuckle threatened to bubble up past his words. "I don' know when we'll be... like befor'." He glanced at the cabbie, but took Michael's hand anyway before the absurdity laughter turned into panic and despair. He lowered his voice and got closer so maybe it'd be more trouble to drop eaves.

"I'm havin' trouble tellin' who I am an' lettin' go. If it's f'rever... if I had ta choose one person..."