i.

                                    

                                          
i. TATTOO
                          
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CARTER FELT IRRELEVANT.
                          
    There could have been many reason as to why Carter felt that way, but there was only one. Allison and Lydia had completely ignored her, like she had been that ugly Christmas sweater your grandmother had given you. Carter hadn't expected them to particularly thrilled when she told them that her and Scott kissed, and that she's had feelings for him for quite a while, at least she wasn't lying. Allison hadn't returned any of her texts even though she was in France, and Lydia had been acting like Carter never existed.
                          
    And that was why Carter found herself sitting next to Stiles Stilinski in a tattoo parlor, watching as Scott McCall got himself situated in the chair preparing himself to get a tattoo. He had said that he needed it as a reward, the reason of the reward was unknown to Carter and Stiles. 
                          
    Carter tapped her left foot irritably, Stiles shifted through a thick book filled with sketches. Approaching them was a burly man with a thick beard, he held the drawing that Scott made of the tattoo he wanted, looking down at it in amusement.
                          
    "Boy," the man mused sarcastically, "it's a good thing you drew me a picture."
                          
    "Hey, Scott," Stiles called out, the two teens glanced over at him as he turned the book around to show them an image that looked remarkably similar to the Kanima. "Sure you don't want something like this?" Scott gave him a look. "Too soon?"
                          
    Carter rolled her eyes before reaching out and smacking the back of Stiles' head.
                          
    "Noted," Stiles muttered, rubbing his head with his hand, continuing to flip through it while the burly man began to set up his station. "I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"
                          
    "Seriously, Stiles?" Carter asked in disbelief, her anger and frustration getting the best of her.
                          
    Scott's grin only grew, "I'm not changing my mind."
                          
    Stiles nodded, realizing that he wasn't going to be able to talk Scott out of getting a tattoo, "Okay, but why two bands?" Carter tilted her head, envisioning the tattoo on Scott's arm, coming to the conclusion that it would look pretty sweet.
                          
    Scott shrugged, "I just like it."
                          
    "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"
                          
    "Getting a tattoo means something," Scott countered.
                          
    "I don't think that's-"
                          
    "He's right," the burly man announced, cutting Stiles' sentence short. "Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word tatua means "to leave a mark," like a rite of passage."
                          
    Scott then looked toward Carter and Stiles and said: "Yeah, you see? He gets it."
                          
    Stiles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally." He deadpanned.
                          
    Carter solemnly nodded in agreement, it had been true. The man was literally covered, he had two sleeves that branched across his chest, some even rose up onto the sides of his neck and head. Carter wasn't against tattoos at all, so she wasn't going to try and convince Scott not to get one. And, she knew that it would look remarkably hot on him anyway.