HIGH HOPES (TO & TW) | SCOTT MCCALL

We don't get matching tattoos

Hope's POV

     It didn't take long for me to figure out that Beacon Hills was crawling with supernatural creatures. Sure, I always kind of knew, but it seems as if it's gotten worse over the years that I've been gone, and with Scott and Stiles whispering to each other about werewolves, it was bound for me to know.

     Speaking of Both idiots, Stiles grew his buzz cut out, while Scott cut his just a tad shorter. My hair remained it's normal length, resting a little below my shoulders with a tiny braid over the top.

     The tattoo artist eyed the paper that Scott had drawn on beforehand. Yup, you heard correct. Scott was about to get a tattoo. I always thought about getting a tattoo, something that would revolve around what my family stands for or something clever that ties to my family.

     Scott was sitting in the chair, Stiles was skimming the designs, looking for something interesting, and then there was me. I wasn't looking through designs or reading a book, I was lazily laying down on one of the bean bags displayed next to Stiles.

     The tattoo artist looked up from the paper at looked to Scott. "Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture." Scott just grinned as a response.

     "Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles flipped the chart of designs towards him and showed a distinctive looking lizard monster. Scott huffed "Too soon?" Stiles asked him as he looked back down on the design and nodded his head.

"Yeah."

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

     "I'm not changing my mind." Scot told him with a grin overtaking his face.

    "Okay, but why two bands?" He asked in confusion. "I just like it" Scott argued back.

     "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning you know, or something?" He urged, trying to make him not get the tattoo.

     "Getting a tattoo means something." Scott and I both said in unison. "I don't think that's-" Stiles was interrupted by Scott's Tattoo artist.

     "They're both right, Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'Tatua' means-" Then tattooist interrupted by me. "Means 'To leave a mark', kinda like a right of passage." I say with a nod. "Precisely," The man leaned over to Scott.

     "You got yourself a smart pretty lady right there." Scott and myself blushed at the sudden embarrassment.

     "Yeah, you see? They get it." Scott assured. "He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally." Annoyed with the spastic teen, the man turned to Scott with his gear in hand. "Okay, you ready?" Scott cleared his throat and started to nod Simultaneously. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?" He shook his head. "Nope." After Scott said this, the tattoo artist started on his work.

     "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..." stiles started mumbling incoherent words as he got closer to Scott. I held up my hand and counted down."In 3... 2... 1" As soon as I hit one, Stiles fainted and dropped to the floor. "Oh, man" Scott muttered in pain.

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     With the tattooist almost being done with Scott's second band, I stood up from the bean bag and walked over to a stirring Stiles. "Good morning sleepy head" I taunted.

     "You're an evil little girl." I grabbed his hand as I pulled him up. I rolled my eyes. "I sure he'll lend you an ice pack or something."

     A thought rushed through me. I turned to the tattoo artist. "Do you know any Viking scripts?"