AN: This is something I've been sitting on since November and finally got around to editing. Hope you like it!
Edit 1/17/2016: Added a tiny bit more to the story. I realized I forgot to describe the tattoo!
"Yo, Wing!" Nosedive caught up to his brother, hoping to get his attention before the white drake vanished for a few hours.
"Yeah?" Wildwing stopped and turned around.
"Where you going?"
"Nowhere." He shrugged. "Probably going to read a bit, maybe the beach."
"Cool. Hey, weird question for ya…"
"Hm?" He crossed his arms as if unsure what Nosedive was going to ask for.
"You know that puck Grin found? Canard's?"
"Yeah…"
"Can I borrow it?"
"What for?" Wildwing's eyes grew cautious.
"I just need it for something." Canard had been his friend ever bit as much as Wildwing's. Honestly, he should have had as much of a claim to it as his brother. But, that's what big brother's did— take control of whatever they wanted and force the younger to beg. Not fair. Not fair one bit.
"No." He turned and continued towards the arena exit.
"Dude! Come on! It's not like I'm going to do anything to it or lose it."
"Then what do you want it for?"
"Look, I just need it, okay. Where'd you hide it?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Come on! Dude, you're being totally stingy here."
"So? It's mine now. I might, might, let you borrow it if you'll tell me why."
"It's a surprise, okay. Shiesh. Who'd have thought you'd turn into Dad?"
"Sorry, baby bro, but the answer's still no. Not unless you tell me why."
"Forget it. Lame brain. I'll figure something else out."
"Whatever."
Nosedive turned around and walked off, annoyed at Wildwing's refusal.
0000
Not one to give up that easily, Nosedive returned to their shared room. Wildwing had left the Pond for a while and would be back whenever he'd had enough alone time. Stupid introverts, always refusing to talk or hang out when he just wanted a little company. But, this was the perfect opportunity to search the room without fear of being caught.
"Now, if I were a big dummy, where would I hide something?"
It's not like Wildwing was that creative. Under the mattress. He lifted the neatly made mattress and found absolutely nothing under there. The sheets came untucked a little at the end when he let it flop down and he didn't bother to tuck them back.
"The shelf?" Crawling onto the lower bunk, he started rummaging around on the messy, inset shelf along the wall. Wildwing may be a neat freak when it came to everything else, but he never organized the built in nightstand. Moving books around and reaching behind them, he managed to find three pens, a letter from a fan, and a guitar pick, but no puck.
The guitar picks gave him an idea and he retrieved the guitar case from under the couch. Nope. Nothing in there but the instrument, some scribbled on sheet music, and a few more picks.
"Damn it. He's getting better at this. Okay, where would I hide it?"
Tapping the side of his beak with one finger in thought, he surveyed the room. Maybe under the air hockey table? Kneeling down, he checked under there. There was a deep ledge around the bottom of the table, providing the perfect hiding place. What he found was Wildwing's slave bracelet, which he left alone. That wasn't something he ever wanted to touch or see again.
Getting up, his eyes fell upon the trophies above the couch. Most of them were silly gifts from fans or jokes that he'd given to Wildwing. Trophies for things like "Number One Loser" and "Lamest Singing Voice Ever." Leaning over the couch, he reached inside one and found nothing. Going down the row, he finally hit the jackpot in the second to last one. His hand closed around a familiar, round weight.
Nosedive looked at the beat up puck and smiled to himself. Dummy couldn't even come up with a good hiding place. Ah well, he'd just borrow it and put it back before Wildwing even returned! Or, maybe he should take a picture of it… Nah, the actual thing would be better. He didn't want the artist to get too confused.
0000
Brett Crash was one of the more interesting humans Nosedive had met. His entire right arm was covered in rushing waves and water tattoos while the left was filled with a forest with creatures peering out through the trees. Tattoos covered every inch of his body not hidden by clothing except for his face.
"It's a real pleasure to meet you," Brett greeted as he shook the alien's hand.
"Same. Thrash tells me you're the go-to guy for tattoos on scars."
"You got it." He held up his right arm. "Third degree burns. The guy who did this for me is a real genius. He taught me as well as inspired me to do the same for others. I'm hoping you don't have anything this severe?"
"Nah, nothing like that." Nosedive studied the tattooing of the arm. Twisted and ropey flesh had been expertly disguised by the flowing, organic lines of the body art. It was impressive work. If this guy was half as good as whoever had done that, the marking on his wrist would be near invisible.
Removing his wrist com and shoving it into his pocket, Nosedive held out his right arm and showed the inside of his wrist and forearm to Brett. A large patch of scarring stretched from just below the base of his palm to about three inches back in an irregular shape. No feathers grew there, leaving an ugly, bare spot he despised seeing. The feathers that did grow at the edge refused to grow straight and would sometimes stick straight up. He'd pluck them if they became too annoying.
"May I?" Brett held his hand near Nosedive's arm, asking before touching and inspecting what had happened.
"Yeah." Finally! Someone who at least was polite about touching and didn't try to grab a feather.
"How old is this?"
"Almost two years now."
"So it's completely healed. Good." Gentle fingers prodded at the thicker skin, testing how tough it was and how deep the scarring went. "If you don't mind, what happened?"
"Infection." He didn't really want to go into too much detail about what had caused the scars. "I, uh," he shrugged. "Shit happened and I ended up with a nasty infection that ate away at the skin there. Took a while to heal up."
"That's fine. I can work with this. In fact, I'm fairly confident we can do it in one session and you won't have to come back for a touch up. Did you have a particular design in mind?"
"This." He reached into his pocket and held out the puck, indicating the design on the surface. A blue 'C' interlocked a hockey stick with a large, green triangle in the background.
Brett took it and studied the design, then compared it to Nosedive's wrist.
"Getting sharp lines like that can be tricky. We'll have to see how your skin takes the ink. And it won't really fill up that area. Do you want something outlining the triangle? Maybe flames or something coming out from it?" He set Nosedive's arm on the table, wrist up.
"You know what? I'm giving you free reign with the design here. I want this, but do what you think is going to work best. If you can work a number twelve in there somewhere, that'd be awesome."
"Okay. Take a seat and we'll get started."
Nosedive sat in a seat that resembled a dentist's chair more than anything else and watched while Brett gathered all of the supplies and selected the colors he'd be using.
0000
"Let me know if this hurts too much. The inside of the wrist is a sensitive area to get tatted and scar tissue can make it worse. If you need a break, we can take one." Brett pulled the transfer paper off Nosedive's wrist, leaving behind a light blue outline of the design he'd sketched out.
"It's cool. I've got a pretty high pain tolerance."
"I've noticed that Grin has a tattoo. Is it on the skin and he plucks the feathers over it? I've never seen how aliens get tattooed." He kept up conversation while filling cups with the appropriate ink colors and laying out all of the tools.
"Hah! Actually, I did talk to him about it before deciding to do this. He does have the tattoo under the feathers so whoever dyes it has a pattern to follow if they need. We molt twice a year, so he has Tanya and Mallory help dye the feathers when the new ones grow in."
"Mallory and Tanya? It takes two to do it or is that a cultural thing that the women are the tattooists?"
"Tanya's color blind, so Mallory makes sure the colors are exact. Tanya does the actual dying."
"Really?" He turned on the tattoo gun, making the needle buzz. "I didn't know that. I'd hate to be colorblind. It'd make my job a lot harder."
"No kidding! Tanya's always worried about switching the wires in inventions and stuff if she doesn't wear her glasses." Nosedive winced a little at the burning sensation as the ink was forced into his skin. After a moment, he grew used to the sensation and was able to ignore it.
"So, her glasses help with that?"
"Well, yeah! Don't you guys have anything to help people who are colorblind?"
"Not really. You sure this isn't hurting?"
"It stings, but nothing I can't handle."
Brett nodded. "Tell me about this design. How did you pick this one?"
"Canard was my brother's best friend growing up. He was pretty much like a second brother to me. We went everywhere together and got into so much trouble."
"Is he back home?" He used a clean, white cloth to dab away a little blood before continuing.
"Nah." Nosedive shook his head. "He's MIA. We're hoping to find him again; but, it's been a long time since he went missing."
"Sorry to hear that. What was he like?"
"Crazy. He played the best right D I've ever seen. Him, Wing, and me on a team are pretty much unstoppable. He can be a real jerk. He locked me in the trunk of his car once when I tried to join him and Wing for a movie. loser." Nosedive's words were disparaging, but he laughed at the memory. "Then there were the constant jokes and pranks. I probably annoyed him as much as he annoyed me."
"Sounds like a typical brother type relationship. How'd you guys meet?"
"He lived next door. He and his mom moved in when I was five and he and Wing are the same age. After a while, Canard pretty much moved in with us."
"I don't remember hearing anything about him. Did he come here with you?"
"He tried; didn't quite make it. I'd rather not talk about that."
"It's cool. Why the twelve? His jersey number?"
"Yeah," Nosedive smiled and nodded his head, gaze drifting into the distance. "Wing's double zero and Canard was twelve. I wanted to be thirty four, but that bender Tain always snagged it before I could. We did it so when Wing, Canard, and I would line up at the beginning of games, our numbers would go in sequence."
"Hah! That sounds neat. Something you guys do often?" Setting aside the cup of green ink, he reached for the yellow.
"Huh?"
"Like, your people, back home." He cleaned off the needle and added it to the jar to be sanitized before selecting a new one. "Families usually have numbers that line up?"
"Oh, nah. It was something Wildwing came up with when I was finally old enough to join his and Canard's team. Then they moved up to the next grade and I had to wait another three years before we were on the same one again. Story of my life, always chasing those two."
"So, think you guys will win the Stanley Cup this year?"
"Dude, totally!"
They spent the rest of the time chatting about hockey and Brett's history of how he was burned as a child. By the time they were done, Nosedive felt like he had another friend.
0000
Nosedive rubbed in some of the vitamin e oil he had been given to help the tattoo heal into his wrist. The colors were a lot more vibrant than he'd initially expected. Brett had assured him they would fade out. Of course, the placement meant he couldn't wear his wrist com on the right like he was used it. It'd been nice to have that hide the scar from the fungus that had eaten away at his skin during his imprisonment in Hyla. Now, he had something way cooler to look at when he didn't wear the wrist com.
Brett's artistry was amazing. What had once been raised, ropey flesh now looked like lines left by ice skates and the tanish skin had turned varying shades of blue. Canard's logo looked like it was under a thin sheet of ice that had been heavily skated on. The number twelve sat just below the triangle, separated slightly by the point. All in all, it was damned perfect and he loved it.
Smiling to himself at getting away with swiping Wildwing's puck, he walked into their room, eager to chill out and maybe watch a movie.
The moment the door opened, his good mood faltered. Wildwing was sitting on the couch under the trophies. He'd set aside the book he'd been reading when the door opened and crossed his arms, glaring at Nosedive.
"Where is it?"
"Where's what?" He tried to play innocent. Maybe he could get it back in the trophy without Wildwing noticing?
"You know what." He stood. "Now give it back."
"Uh… Hehe. Gee, look at the time. I forgot I have to, uh, help Duke! Yeah, I've got to go help Duke with something!" With that, he turned around and ran from the room.
Wilding was up in a flash and out the door, chasing him down before he could get away.
Nosedive ran down the hallway and through the ready room, hoping to make it to an open area where he couldn't be cornered. He glanced over his shoulder to see a pissed off older brother closing in on him.
"Oof!" Mallory grunted as he plowed into her and they both fell. "Nosedive!"
"Sorry!" He tried to get up, only to have Mallory sweep his feet out from under him and do some sort of crazy flip where she ended up on top and pulled his right arm behind him in a lock.
"Ow! Ow! Uncle! I give!" Her fingers dug into the fresh tattoo with an iron grip.
"Gross!" She let go of his arm but kept him pinned. "What do you have on your wrist?" She rubbed the slimy ointment on his shirt.
"Mallory, get off my brother so I can kill him."
Mallory looked up at Wildwing, eyebrow raised.
"Have at him." She stood, waving one arm to Nosedive. Mallory stood back, watching them and enjoying Nosedive having his ass handed to him by his older brother. It wasn't often Wildwing was that pissed off at Nosedive. She'd caught them play wrestling before; but, never actually angry chasing. It made her remember the time she'd broken her brother's favorite action figure and he retaliated by plugging her toy gun with gum.
"Give it back." Wildwing demanded, one hand gripping Nosedive's shirt as he pulled him from the floor.
"Sure thing, bro!" He reached into his pocket and retrieved the puck. "This what you're looking for?" He held it up. When Wildwing tried to grab it with his free hand, he threw it in an attempt to make Wildwing chase the puck and let him go.
Unfortunately, Wildwing caught it the moment it left his hand. Damned goalies. He then twisted, pulling Nosedive into a headlock.
"I told you to leave it alone and you—"
Nosedive held up his wrist, showing the new artwork permanently decorating his body.
"What is that?"
"A tattoo, duh!"
"Wait," Mallory broke in. "When did you get that?" She grabbed his wrist and took a better look.
"Today! And thanks for grabbing it, by the way. Now I've got to go wash it again. I blame you if it gets infected."
Wildwing's grip losened when he saw the design. He tightened it again and began dragging Nosedive back towards the bunks.
"Nosedive! Are you crazy?"
He pulled at the arm around his neck, trying to gain his freedom.
"No. I've been thinking about it for the past couple of months. Come on, let me go."
"Not a chance."
Nosedive dug his feet in and pulled back, hoping to stop himself from being dragged forward. Wildwing paused, giving him enough time to press his knee into the back of Wildwing's and reach up, pulling his brother's head back to break the grip. He moved out of reach the moment he was free.
"Not bad," Mallory complimented. "Nice to see that you've actually been paying attention."
"You've got your stupid puck now. Back off, kay?"
"If that's what you wanted it for, you should have so."
"So? It wouldn't have changed your mind."
"I know this is asking a lot," Mallory chimed in, "But do you think you two could start acting like adults some time this year?"
"Go skate on a dry pond," Nosedive retorted.
"Leave my stuff alone," Wildwing held up a warning finger. "Next time, you'll regret it."
"Oh, I'm shaking in my web footed booties," Nosedive scoffed. "Just let me have it next time and I won't have to find all your stupid hiding places!"
"Hey, I don't go through your things!"
"Liar! What about all of my clothes in the closet? You threw them all over my bed last week!"
"Because you left them laying all over the closet floor!"
"You two are hopeless." Mallory turned and left. Who knew when they'd stop arguing?