Horn P.O.V

I begin to walk home from the supermarket after the incident that took place in my ex-boss's office. I'm officially out of a job. That's just fantastic.

Cuts will probably freak himself out when I tell him. He's always paranoid about our stability. I want to be able to reassure him that everything will be okay, but I doubt that he'll listen when I tell him I no longer have a job.

I walk past a local tattoo shop that I've seen many times before. It has a rather good reputation around town. A few of my friends from high school had tattoos done there that I'm sure they now regret.

I decided to check it out since I'm looking to become a tattoo artist myself. Looking around a new work environment never hurt. It's actually smart to see if you can function in an environment like that.

The shop isn't very big. It's actually small for the area it's in. There's a counter and places to sit in the front while artists work in the back. It's closed off by a curtain for privacy reasons.

There's a man, roughly my age, maybe younger, sitting behind the counter. He's reading a book to pass the time since not many people are in here. Only when he sees me does he set his book aside.

"Getting a tattoo?" he asks, sounding a bit eager.

"Actually, I was hoping to get a job," I reply, glancing around.

The shop is relatively nice. There are rock band posters littering the walls along with tattoo references. It reminds me of my high school days when my friends would give themselves tattoos with small needles and ink. They never lasted long.

"Well, we are looking for a receptionist. Are you okay with scheduling appointments and logging them?" he asks, tapping a pen against the desk.

"That'd be fine if I can work my way up. I'd like to be one of the artists," I tell him.

"Hm," he hums softly, "you ever tattooed someone?"

"No, but I've been sketching on skin for years."

"I'll tell you what," he says while standing, "I'll start you off here at the desk and during your free time, you can go to the back and practice. We have synthetic material specifically for tattoo practice. That way if you fuck anything up, it's not on someone else's body. Then after a couple months, we'll see how you're doing and if you can be one of our regular artists."

"That sounds great," I tell him.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Everyone calls me Horn."

"Alright, Horn, I'm Kit. You start on Monday, be here by noon," Kit says.

I nod and head out the door. Cuts will be happy to know that I officially have a job and we'll have a stable income once again. There's no real problem.

I walk home and enter the apartment quietly. Cuts is on the couch, typing away on his laptop. The soft tapping sounds fill the apartment. It's almost relaxing.

"Hey, Babe, I hope I didn't get you in too much trouble at work. I just hate how that tiny man treats you," he says while typing.

"It's fine," I tell him, "I quit."

The fast tapping of keys on Cuts' keyboard suddenly stops. He looks up at me with a worried expression.

"You quit your job?" he asks quickly, setting his laptop aside.

"Yeah, but I already have a new one, don't freak yourself out," I reassure him.

"Really?" he asks with a small bit of relief.

I nod and sit down next to him. "At the tattoo shop, a couple blocks away. I start Monday."

He sighs softly and hugs me, resting his face against my shoulder. "You scared me."

I lift his chin up gently and kiss him. "Don't worry, Babe, everything is fine," I reassure him.

"I hope so," he says softly.

"I'm excited about a new job. I hated the supermarket."

"You've never given anyone a tattoo before," he points out.

"I know. I'm starting as a receptionist and I'll be able to practice during my free time," I explain.

"So basically you're going to cover yourself in tattoos once you're allowed to?" he asks with a bit of a joking tone.

"Maybe. Will you still love me?" I ask.

"Of course." He kisses my cheek. "I think you'll look hot with tattoos~."

I laugh softly and pull him onto my lap. Cuts wraps his arms around my neck and smiles.

"You really think I'll look good with tattoos?"

"Not good, hot," he corrects me.

"Close enough," I mumble.

He laughs softly and kisses my cheek. "But I think you'll look good too."

I glance down to the coffee table and see Cuts' laptop sitting open. The screen is still up and I see that he's writing something.

"What have you been up to while I was gone?" I ask, nodding toward his computer.

He glances back and shrugs. "Ideas just started blossoming in my mind and I wanted to write them down before I lost them. You never have the exact same idea twice," he says.

"What kind of ideas?" I ask, moving closer to see the screen.

He closes the laptop before I can read anything that he's written. "Unfinished ideas. I don't want anyone to read them until I'm done," he says.

I roll my eyes. "As you wish."

Cuts pokes my nose softly and smiles. I smile and laugh softly. He's very sweet.

Cuts is doing very well during his pregnancy. He hasn't been picking at his skin for a while. He's had rubbing moments, but nothing has been severe. I'm glad that he's doing so well. I don't want him to hurt himself during his most vulnerable state.

"I love you," he says softly.

"I love you more," I reply.

He smiles and kisses me gently, running his fingers through my hair. I purr softly and wrap my arms around his waist.

"I love you most," he says with a smile.

I've never been happier to be with someone. There is no one else that I would rather be with.