I'm just saying, you're a lunatic. [ there is obviously something teasing to stiles stilinski's tone, even as he rolls his eyes with the force of about a thousand suns when his best friends suggests the idea. it's been a long journey from high school into college, and stiles is, to say the least, 100% thrilled to be away from beacon hills for a little while.
he and scott had gotten really into music towards the middle of their sophomore year, a couple of dorks getting involved in a sort of punk scene. the two of them had been dressing the part since, going to shows and playing music in their parents garages and basically doing everything a couple little punks could do, even piercings. stiles would like to point out that getting piercings was a very hardcore gesture for him, and no, he absolutely did not pass out when he got his tongue done. or his ear. passing out is for four year olds.
...anyway.
either way, he and scott are up in NoCal, stiles is single, and scott is madly in love. even more so than allison, and stiles supports it; he liked allison but he loves kira. she's smart and funny and loves comics and frankly, stiles told scott to marry her when she applied to the same college as they did. so him getting a tattoo for kira? that's totally plausible.
strolling into the shop, stiles bumps his shoulder into scott's with all the playful camaraderie that comes from two men who basically call themselves brothers. he looks around the shop, plaintively ignoring the sound of the needles whirring in the back, and eyeballs scott again. ] Besides, dude, I am not getting a matching tattoo for your girlfriend with you. I like her, but not in a permanent-ink-on-my-body-that-involves-pressing-a-needle-a-billion-times-into-flesh kind of way.
[ stiles doesn't even like lydia that much. or, well, he did when he was younger, thankfully too young for the whole tattoo thing. now he just kind of sees her as a friend and himself as a guy who's gonna have forty star wars cats. oh well. he pauses near one of the pieces, looking at an intricate piece of celtic knotwork before turning back to scott. ] You sure about this, dude? No turning back after this one.
You've been saying I was a lunatic for years. [ Which is half-accurate, considering he's been calling Stiles a lunatic for just as long. Especially when he gets up to shenanigans and drags Scott along for the ride. But he's never really complained, and neither has Stiles. They're brothers, through and through.
It's been good to get away from Beacon Hills, for as much as he loves his mom and Stiles' dad and the people all there, and they've actually gotten to settle into a bigger punk scene. Their parents helped to send them to various shows and indulged them in their musical ventures despite how loud they could get. But here, they have better access to everything. Shows, fashion, music, tattoos and piercings.
... they'll see if Stiles passes out again. But he'll never tell anyone if he does. That's what bros do. ]
Dude, I love you, but I don't want to share the tattoo I'm getting for my girlfriend with you. I meant like, us getting pieces designed for us. [ Scott sways and bumps back into him, grinning as bright as a gigawatt lightbulb. He can hear the needles whirring in the back, and voices that he can't quite pick up what they're saying. But he hums thoughtfully while looking at the knotwork with him. ]
Yeah, I'm sure. I really want this. [ He looks back at him, bouncing a little again so that the chain on his jacket taps against the worn material. Behind him, the sound of a needle gun stops, and a moment later a man older than them comes out from the back, pulling off the black latex gloves and throwing them away in a trash bin.
He sort of looks the part of a tattoo artist, with a thick beard and serious look, but then Scott's eyes drop down to the simple sweater he wears that he's pulling the sleeves down on, comfortable and soft and he kind of wants to touch it, it looks that nice? With his wardrobe, he looks more like he'd be in a library than a tattoo parlor, especially with the glasses hooked in the collar. ]
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vague is always good \o\
he and scott had gotten really into music towards the middle of their sophomore year, a couple of dorks getting involved in a sort of punk scene. the two of them had been dressing the part since, going to shows and playing music in their parents garages and basically doing everything a couple little punks could do, even piercings. stiles would like to point out that getting piercings was a very hardcore gesture for him, and no, he absolutely did not pass out when he got his tongue done. or his ear. passing out is for four year olds.
...anyway.
either way, he and scott are up in NoCal, stiles is single, and scott is madly in love. even more so than allison, and stiles supports it; he liked allison but he loves kira. she's smart and funny and loves comics and frankly, stiles told scott to marry her when she applied to the same college as they did. so him getting a tattoo for kira? that's totally plausible.
strolling into the shop, stiles bumps his shoulder into scott's with all the playful camaraderie that comes from two men who basically call themselves brothers. he looks around the shop, plaintively ignoring the sound of the needles whirring in the back, and eyeballs scott again. ] Besides, dude, I am not getting a matching tattoo for your girlfriend with you. I like her, but not in a permanent-ink-on-my-body-that-involves-pressing-a-needle-a-billion-times-into-flesh kind of way.
[ stiles doesn't even like lydia that much. or, well, he did when he was younger, thankfully too young for the whole tattoo thing. now he just kind of sees her as a friend and himself as a guy who's gonna have forty star wars cats. oh well. he pauses near one of the pieces, looking at an intricate piece of celtic knotwork before turning back to scott. ] You sure about this, dude? No turning back after this one.
WE CAN DECIDE LATER.
It's been good to get away from Beacon Hills, for as much as he loves his mom and Stiles' dad and the people all there, and they've actually gotten to settle into a bigger punk scene. Their parents helped to send them to various shows and indulged them in their musical ventures despite how loud they could get. But here, they have better access to everything. Shows, fashion, music, tattoos and piercings.
... they'll see if Stiles passes out again. But he'll never tell anyone if he does. That's what bros do. ]
Dude, I love you, but I don't want to share the tattoo I'm getting for my girlfriend with you. I meant like, us getting pieces designed for us. [ Scott sways and bumps back into him, grinning as bright as a gigawatt lightbulb. He can hear the needles whirring in the back, and voices that he can't quite pick up what they're saying. But he hums thoughtfully while looking at the knotwork with him. ]
Yeah, I'm sure. I really want this. [ He looks back at him, bouncing a little again so that the chain on his jacket taps against the worn material. Behind him, the sound of a needle gun stops, and a moment later a man older than them comes out from the back, pulling off the black latex gloves and throwing them away in a trash bin.
He sort of looks the part of a tattoo artist, with a thick beard and serious look, but then Scott's eyes drop down to the simple sweater he wears that he's pulling the sleeves down on, comfortable and soft and he kind of wants to touch it, it looks that nice? With his wardrobe, he looks more like he'd be in a library than a tattoo parlor, especially with the glasses hooked in the collar. ]