Sterek One Shots (boyxboy)

Risky Business

Risky Business by super_queer
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Part 1

Autumn leaves littered the grounds of Beacon Hills, California. Stiles Stillinski was visiting his father, the sheriff of Beacon Hills, at his childhood home. It was the anniversary of Stiles' mom's death and instead of doing the usual moping around his father had grown accustomed to, he announced he was going to get a tattoo in her honor.

The sheriff has little say in the situation anyway, Stiles was 21 now, just finishing up college and recently moved into his own apartment in Washington. However, it was pretty common for Stiles to stay at his dad's house for a bit around this time of year. At breakfast this particular day he made the announcement.

"Oh?" his father picked up his head from the newspaper he was reading at the table.

Stiles pushed his spoon around in his bowl of cereal. "Yeah, today actually. I just thought it would be, you know... nice." Stiles wondered if he should continue, but talking is his forte so, "Because it's been ten years tomorrow and all, I'm thinking that I'll get this and maybe not spend... so much time around here next year."

The sheriff shared a sad smile. His father had worn black for a long time, but he knows Stiles never stopped. Of course he missed his late wife terribly but accepted some time ago that she would've wanted him to be happy. This revelation made him swell with pride and relief.

After breakfast Stiles washed the dishes from his father and himself before going up to his room. He stripped his shirt off and gazed at his body in a mirror above a small chest of drawers. Stiles was pretty gangly, but had some muscle padding his lean frame so he didn't look like a total tweaker in contrast with his pale skin and dark under eye circles. He sighed as his eyes scoped over his skin like a metal detector. Stiles slowly turned around, craning his neck to see behind him and studied his refection intently, set on finding a space just perfect for the tattoo without too many freckles.

He settled with just above his right shoulder blade. A lot of people find it stupid to get someone's name tattooed on their skin in some cursive font. But it's more than a name. It's a reminder of someone immensely important to him in one perfect, simple word. So he didn't care what anyone else thought. Fuck people.

Stiles crashed back on his bed for a couple minutes just staring at the ceiling and thinking. This was a big step for him in getting out of the mourning process. He'd never been good at letting things go. The only tattoo shop he knew of was Risky Business Body Art, it was some kind of family owned place. After about twenty minutes, Stiles scooped himself up, got in his jeep and headed over there.

The building had been there as long as Stiles could remember; it stood out quite a lot from the other buildings in the downtown area surrounding it. The bricks were a darker red than anyone else's and the sign was in contrasting white calligraphy, huge above an industrial prison- like gray door. Stiles parked and fed a meter before crossing up the pavement to the door. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Stiles was pleasantly surprised. The inside was nice- like crazy nice. All the furniture was leather and the walls were painted a deep purple but copious amounts of lighting detracted from the otherwise dark feel of the shop. He realized he'd never once been inside even though it's been here his whole life. Stiles was never one for tattoos and piercings, but he may or may not appreciate them very much on others. Very, very much.

A round counter encased the corner at the far end of the shop, with a small computer and glass case full of rods and rings showcased brilliantly in boxes and on felt surfaces. There was a man standing behind it looking highly interested in his nails until he heard Stiles open the door. His head snapped up to meet Stiles before an easy grin spread across his face.