touch » stiles stilinski

permanent

permanent - chapter nineteen

rosie

"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture." The tattoo artist said.

Scott had a smile on his face, I looked around and Stiles was looking at some tattoos.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" My boyfriend asked, showing us a drawing that looked like the Kanima, I chuckled and Scott rolled his eyes. "Too soon? Yeah."

"I don't know, Scotty, are you sure about this?" I asked him.

"Yeah, these things are pretty permanent, you know?" Stiles nods.

"I'm not changing my mind." Scott said, still smiling.

"Okay, but with two bands?" Stiles asked him.

"I just like it."

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

"Stiles..." I shook my head.

"Getting a tattoo means something." Scott said and Stiles giggled.

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

"He's right." The tattoo artist cuts my boyfriend. "Tattoo goes back thousands of years. The tahitian word "tatua" means 'to leave a mark'." Stiles crossed his arms. "Like a rite of passage."

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

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally." I said.

"Okay, you ready?" The tattoo artist asked and Scott clears his throat. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope." He shook his head and I heard the needle buzzes.

Stiles approached me. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..." He looked at the needle.

That was the last thing he said before his face kissed the floor. "Oh, great." I groaned.

****

I shoved myself in the back seat of the blue jeep. Stiles groaned, pressing the ice bag on his head.

"You okay?" I asked Scott.

"Kind of burns."

"Yeah, I'm fine too, thanks for asking!" My boyfriend mumbled. "And, yes, you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred thousand times with a needle." Stiles said.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this." Scott said, looking at the bandage, then he began yelling out in pain.

"Oh, God." I looked at Stiles.

"No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this." Scott groaned in pain. "I gotta take this thing off!"

Stiles shook his head quickly. "No, no, no, no, Scott." My boyfriend shut his eyes closed. "Scott, please stop."

"Whoa, whoa." I whispered as Scott began unwrapping his bandage.

The skin was really red, and I widened my eyes when the dark paint began disappearing.

"Oh, no, what?" Scott groaned. "No, no, come on." Scott looked at us, letting out a heavy sigh. "It healed."

Stiles exhales, turning the key and starting up the jeep. "Thank God. I hated it." I chuckled as Scott looked at him in disbelief. "Sorry."

"Have you guys heard from Jackson?" I asked.

"Not since he moved to London." Stiles answered. "Which is good news, right?"