note: very drabble-y, typos, etc. hope you still like anyway!

//

"And you're sure it won't hurt," Till says, rubbing at his immaculate earlobe.

It's like waving a red flag at a bull. Ivan's mouth waters; it's a herculean effort to tear his eyes away and focus on sanitizing the needle in the flame. "Of course," he says smoothly. Complete lie. Till has the pain tolerance of a child. Chances are ninety-nine to one that he'll tear up and shake through it. Ivan should feel guilty about misleading him, but guilt is an emotion that has long since disappeared where Till is involved. Now it's something like a missing limb--at best, he knows when he should feel it. "Are you ready?"

Till eyes the needle with no small amount of fear. "You said it won't get infected?"

"Till, we either do this or we don't. You're the one who wanted to."

"I know!"

"So?"

"So..." Till's teeth grinds. He squeezes his eyes shut and wrenches his head to the side, exposing the lovely line of his neck and his bare earlobe. "Fine. Just get it over with."

Ivan leans in. "Shall I be gentle?"

"You're a dickwad."

"Rough it is, then."

"Count to three," Till mumbles. He's sweating. His fingers wind in the hem of his sleeves, pulling at the loose thread of his old hoodie. Here comes the shaking. "Don't just--do it, okay? Three. Count to three."

"Okay," Ivan says, and plunges the needle in.