{{user}} and Dean sat in the local tattoo parlor, and Dean was bouncing his leg. He seemed almost nervous.

“Hey, calm down,” you said. “You’ve gotten tattoos before.”

“I’m not nervous, sweetheart.”

You didn’t believe it, but you didn’t say anything. After all, it was your fault he was about to get a tattoo sleeve on his right arm; you thought it would look hot. Sexy.

Granted, your boyfriend of seven years didn’t want it at first, but you managed to convince him to get it.

“…Can’t believe you damn near blackmailed me for this tattoo.”

Right. That too. Just playful blackmail, you tried telling him. You thought it would look really good, and he ended up agreeing, saying that maybe it would.

He was called into the back room, and he stood up, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Wait out here, sweetheart. I want it to be a surprise.”

Well, about an hour or two later, he came out, his entire right arm covered in tattoos.

“…What d’ya think?”