Archive of Our Own ^beta

Patricia watched Maverick as he was getting dressed. She sat up on the cot, head propped up in her hand, staring at his backside. He was pulling his boxers on, up over his hips, when she saw it.

She hadn't noticed it before, but there was something there, on his hip.

A little dot.

A little blue dot.

A little blue dot that looked awfully like an ink dot.

“What in the hell is that,” she said flatly, staring at the little spot on his hip, right next to one of the raised scars from where a bullet had grazed him.

“What? What is what?” He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, wide eyed and skittish. Cute. She'd have thought there was one of those Deinonychus in here from how he reacted.

“That,” she pointed at his hip, reaching out to touch the dot. He jumped at the contact, as if he hadn't just slept buck naked next to her all night. What a weird man. “That lil dot on yer butt.”

Maverick’s face went red hot, flushing from his shoulders to his ears. He looked down at the floor, coughing out something indecipherable.

He was embarrassed about the dot!

“Whassat baby?” “It’s— it's a tattoo—”

“Honey it's a lil dot,” she said, pushing her finger down into his skin. He squeaked. “You got a lil dot tattooed on yer butt?”

“Itwassupposedtobeaknife,” he said quickly. Too quick, she didn't catch it. He was real embarrassed about it, though.

“What’d you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Say it again, you know I can't understand that accent!”

That always got him riled up, making fun of his accent. He shouldn't get so upset, in her opinion, his twang was hardly noticeable most of the time. Not like hers, she laid that shit on thick.

“A knife, Patty,” he turned around, standing up straighter than before, hands on his hips. He'd pulled his boxers all the way up finally. “It was supposed to be a knife.”

“I don't know how to say this,” she snickered, hand previously on the dot covering her mouth. “But yer knife is a lil dot.”

“I'mscaredofneedles,” he mumbled. He looked behind her, at the tarp separating their space from Ajani's section.

“You're huh?” “He's scared of needles, Doctor!”

Speaking of Ajani, their bickering had woken him up. He popped his head through the window above Patricia's head. He'd slept outside, like usual. “Did you see the dot?” Ajani was grinning, his arms spread across the window frame. Patricia leaned back to smile at him, about to reply.

“Ibex.” Maverick warned. They both ignored him.

“You say that like you was waitin’ on me to find it,” she folded her arms behind her head, interested in hearing more about The Dot.

“Oh, we've had a betting pool going on,” Ajani laughed, and Maverick groaned. Patricia glanced over at him, the poor man was hiding in his hands. “I won, for the record.”

“I'm glad fer you, ‘Jani,” she laughed, then, back to the topic at hand. “So, how'd the dot happen, tell me tell me tell me—”

“Patricia, please.”

“He's scared of needles, and tried to get a tattoo. We all told him it was a bad idea.”

“So… so you just got the dot?” She cackled and got up, coming to stand in front of Maverick. He shied away, hands still covering his face. He must be mortified, to have his best friend and his girlfriend making fun of him like this. “It's okay baby, I like yer lil dot.”

“It's a good dot, very becoming,” Ajani said solemnly. Patricia pulled Maverick’s hands away from his face, smiling at him.

“But it is real funny that I can get a big ole eagle globe n’ anchor on my back and you can't even get a lil knife on yer hip,” she said, pulling his still burning red face down for a kiss. He grumbled something under his breath when she pulled away. “What happened, you get poked and pass out?”

“Worse,” Maverick moaned, utterly done with the situation at this point. “I punched the guy so hard he passed out.”

“And don't forget us,” Ajani chimed in, still poking his head through the window. “You asked Nico and I to hold you still, and you threw us off like it was nothing!”

“Damn! Wait, is that why you ain't got yer shots yet?”

“Shots?” Ajani asked, he was suspicious now. Maverick had a bad track record with shots. Patricia looked over at him, Maverick had gone still in her hands. Ajani was sure he was about to bolt, run across camp in nothing but his underwear.

“Oh yeah, he scraped himself real good on some nasty metal shit while we was out the other day."

Other day. Ajani had come to learn 'other day' could be just about any amount of days when Patricia said it. His friend absolutely needed a tetanus shot. 

“Patty, don't.”

“What? I don't want'chu droppin’ dead on me cause you ain't get'cher shots!”

Ajani nodded and disappeared from the window. He'd had to deal with this before, Maverick not getting a tetanus shot.

Time to find that redheaded boy again.