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After Stiles left the tattoo parlor, he quickly got into his Jeep and headed back to school. He momentarily entertained the idea of just going home. But he's pretty sure his dad's working the early shift, and would be home by now. Not something he really would consider a good idea, and that's saying something considering he was actually about to get a tattoo ten seconds ago. So instead he took his time driving back, not wanting to get to the ends of Mr. Harris' class just to receive detention. But it wouldn't be anything new. Stiles get's detention in that class for breathing too loudly. Although Mr. Harris might prefer it if Stiles stopped breathing altogether.
That man can keep dreaming. A few more months and Stiles will only have to see that man though passing in the hallways.
God, he's so ready for school to be done.
He made it back to school just in time for the first bell. He's at his locker when Scott walks up and begins to play twenty questions.
“So where'd you go? What did you do? Why are you back? Did something go wrong?” Scott said all in one breath.
“Okay Scott, if you don’t stop talking you are going to give me a headache, and yourself an asthma attack. Now...I went to that tattoo place, Hale’s Tattoo Temple, you know it? And I was going to get a tattoo-”
“You got a tattoo!?” Scott said, a lot too loud, People turned looking confused, people close giving Stiles curious looks. As if he might have a tattoo on his forehead they missed when he walked in. Stiles grabbed Scott by the ear and dragged him close down so they could whisper. “Ow, that hurts.” Scott whined.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to. Now back to my point. No, I did not get a tattoo, I went to get one, but it didn’t turn out that way.”
“Why not?”
“Well, the only reason I wanted it was to get the image out of my head. But the guy actually had the tattoo on his arm. Which looked a lot better than what I had drawn, I’m happy I wasn’t stuck with an ugly version of it.”
“Oh, so you changed your mind.” Scott said breathing a sigh of relief, and yeah, Stiles understood that. Scotts his bestie, what's he going to do without Stiles around to drag him into trouble all the time when his dad murders him? The answer is nothing. Scott will go on to lead a boring mundane life, where the only excitement he gets is when Allison looks his direction or uses a new shampoo for him to talk about for an hour and a half.
It's probably a bit hypocritical because Stiles spent the summer pining after Lydia Martin, although, he wasn't as vocal about it as Scott is, and Stiles is totally over that. He's recently realized the male gender is something he's very interested in exploring and has yet to find someone in that category to drool over.
“Not really… I still kind of want one… well, the one. But needles aren’t my strong suit. I’m going to go back tomorrow. I don’t know what I am going to decide.”
**
Derek had gone straight home after he sent Stiles on his way, closing up the shop early and everything. Something was strange about the kid from the moment he walked into the store. But when he saw what Stiles had sketched on that paper it had gone to a whole new level. But he needed to double check.
He jumped out of his car and into the house, and flew up the steps, not even bothering to shut the front door behind him. Once he was in his room he dived onto his bed and went through the tens and tens of sketchbooks he had until he found the one he had been looking for.
He flipped through the pages, passing his first ever tattoo ideas.
That was his very first one. It was the actual size of his paw print in mud, of course it was much smaller he had traced that over five years ago, he has grown very much since then. But it was the next image that he was looking for.
This was his first draft, the image that came as an inspiration to the image he made the tattoo on his arm.
Something about what Stiles had drawn seemed so familiar. There was no way Stiles could have seen the image before, and for him to come into the tattoo parlor, draw the image, and then confirm it from memory couldn’t have been a coincidence. He considered if Laurel had gone through his stuff and planned this to freak Derek out. She knew he didn’t believe in coincidences or anything like that. He was a true man of faith. Which has led him down some dumb and dark paths before, but at least he's consistent.
He had faith in the three levels of the pack, he had faith in his wolf, and he had faith that everything happened for a reason. Even if that reason is his sister was trying to freak him out long distance. Ever since she went to college she had been playing tricks on him. His mother never tried to stop her. It was his mother’s revenge for him not going to college to be a lawyer like she wanted. But she loved and respected his decision to be a tattoo artist.
It was pretty much a win-win argument, how successful was it to be the only tattoo parlor in all of Beacon Hills. Everyone at some point in their lives considers getting a tattoo, big or small, and not having to go out of town persuades them to actually get one. It’s a slow business, but Derek at least has a customer every day, he doesn’t go bored, and he gets to spend his free time sketching. It’s the perfect job, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
But back to the point, Derek needed to make a quick phone call.
“Hello?” Laura answered.
“Okay, how did you do this one? You have Cora help you? What did I say about using Cora against me?” Derek asked.
“Whoa slow down there, I’m waving my white flag. I haven't done anything.” Laura said, humor clear in her voice.
“Yes, you did, you had to!” Derek yelled.
“I have had essays and exams for the last two weeks, I haven’t had a chance to do anything I swear,” Laura says.
Derek can tell she is telling the truth, heartbeats are very clear to werewolves, even over the phone. “Oh.. okay then.”
“So what happened?”
“Oh, it’s nothing you should get back to class or whatever,” Derek said not wanting to explain it.
“I could actually use the break, so what happened?” She ask's again.
He sighed. “Today someone came into the shop. They wanted a tattoo that looked really similar to one I sketched five years ago, and when I sat him down in the chair, he saw my tattoo and said it was the one he had a dream of.”
“Okay… and you thought this was a prank why?”
“Because I had never shown anyone the drawing before. It was from right before I wanted to be a tattoo artist. And it was weird he wanted something very similar to it, and then tells me he had a dream about the one on my arm. I didn’t put any of them in the books or online, so there was no way he could have seen it. The fact that he had a dream of my tattoo is no way a coincidence.”
“Ohhh, wow, that’s freaky, and cool at the same time. So what are you going to do now you know it's not a trick?”
“I don’t know, but I gotta figure it out by tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s coming back.”
**
“Stiles! Why did I get a call saying you skipped Mr. Harris' class?” The Sheriff asked as Stiles walked through the front door.
“What? You did? Well, I have no idea why….” Stiles said, trying to play it off. He really wasn’t expecting Mr. Harris to call, but then again it was Mr. Harris.
“Well you didn’t go to his class, and you went to all of your other classes. So you must have skipped it.”
“That is an observation that one could make,” Stiles said. Slowly taking steps to the staircase.
“Oh? Is it? And what observation would you make Stiles?”
“Well… I um… I would say that… I have very important homework to do and I will get back to you about this later!” He said, and then ran up the stairs and closed his door behind him. He didn’t have a lock, which meant it had no point other than a false sense of security, but his dad hadn’t even bothered to run after him. So Stiles took it as an easy win.
He plopped down on his bed and sighed. The image wasn’t burned into his head, but for some reason, he still couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t driving him crazy, he was more interested in it. He remembered how… how perfect it looked. Which is weird. Because it was a great tattoo and really nice art.
But perfect? It was one color, nicely faded. But perfect probably wouldn’t be used, but it’s all Stiles could come up with when he thought about it. That’s also the word he would use to describe Derek. But why did that name sound so familiar? Stiles doesn’t know any Derek’s so it’s not like an old friend or anything. But Stiles was sure he heard the name before, where had he heard it?
Great.
Now he had something else that was going to drive him crazy.