Destiny [D.H.]

25

Season Three

Scott and Stiles picked me up and we headed to the tattoo parlor. For some reason, Scott wanted to get a tattoo. I hadn't seen what he wanted yet. The tattooist looked at the picture Scott handed him. "Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Scotty," I said.

Stiles nodded and said louder, "Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this? Too soon? Yeah."

The tattoo image Stiles held up was huge and was so not like Scott. It looked like a lizard dragon thing.

Stiles continued. "I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Scott replied.

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged. "I just like it."

"Your symbol?" I guessed as both boys ignored me. Fine.

Stiles frowned. "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something," Scott retorted.

"I don't think that's..."

The tattooist nodded. "He's right; tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word "tatua" means "to leave a mark." Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it," Scott said.

I waved a hand at the tattoo artist. "He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally."

"Okay," the tattooist began. "You ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

Scott shook his head. "Nope."

Stiles backed away slightly. "I tend to get a little squeamish, so..."

I looked at Stiles. "I don't like blood, you don't like needles, but he needs us, Stiles. Get your ass back here."

Stiles groaned as I forced him to stand on the other side of Scott. He fell to the ground and I checked on him. "He'll be okay."

We piled into Stiles' Jeep and Scott moaned, "Oh, man."

"You okay?" Stiles and I asked.

"Kinda burns."

"Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about 100,000 times with a needle," Stiles replied.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this."

"Oh, God!" Scott moaned again. "No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this. Oh, I gotta take this thing off."

Scott proceeded to take the bandage off as Stiles begged, "No, no, no, no, Scott. Oh, Scott, please stop. Whoa, whoa."

"Oh, no, what?" He looked at his arm. "No, no, come on. It healed."

I placed a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry, Scotty. Derek might be able to do something."

Stiles sighed in relief as they both glared at me for a hot second. "Ah, thank God. I hated it. Sorry. I still don't like you and Derek, Ella."

I stuck my tongue out. "Too bad."

After a moment, Stiles turned and asked, "Wanna go for a ride?"

I crossed my arms. "Is there a specific reason? You're up to something nefarious. Yeah, I'll go for a ride. I just need to let my dad know where I am."