A/N: Hey all, this is mostly a little one shot idea I couldn't get out of my head. I hope you enjoy the quick story and let me know what you think. Hope you all have a great day!
The Tattoo
Steve Harrington would be the first person to tell you that life is full of things you don't expect. For instance, he was currently sitting in the dimly lit tattoo studio in downtown Indianapolis on a Friday night when he should have been catching a late-night showing Aliens with Robin and Nancy. If he had been asked even six months ago, if he would ever get a tattoo, he would have said no. Yet here he was, listening to the sound of a tattoo gun buzzing and struggling to not think about what had happened three months ago.
"You ready kid?"
Steve looked up to see Dan, his artist, holding open the partition curtain open for him to enter the back of the shop. The man was tall and wiry, the kind of build that he would have associated with nerds back in high school if it were for endless patterned art twisting from his neck down to his hands.
He wasn't sure if his head had actually moved in agreement, but his legs moved anyway. The sweat that coated his palms was wiped quickly away on the back of his faded jeans as he made his way over to the man. He wasn't sure what exactly to do now that he was actually doing this.
"It's ok to be nervous man, most people are for their first." Dan chuckled out before guiding him gently over to a small workstation covered in artwork and loose ink. The space was dominated mostly by the leather-bound chair and bar stool he assumed Dan would be using to sit on. Pushed against the wall was a large red toolbox and table that had ink and tools laid out waiting to be used.
"I've got everything ready to go. We just have to place it and if it looks good, we can get it started."
"Right uh, what do I need to do?"
Steve watched as the man pulled a pair of gloves on before gesturing over his shoulder towards him.
"You wanted it on your chest, right?"
"Yeah, right. I think that would be the right place for it."
"Alright then. Go ahead and remove your shirt then and place it on the chair for now."
Steve fiddled with the hem of his plain black t-shirt in indecision. He could turn back now and keep the stupid idea to himself, letting Robin make fun of him for his fear of needles. Or he could say fuck it and let the pain from this wash over the pain from the Russians injection all that time ago.
In a rapid movement he chose.
The shirt landed silently against the leather-clad chair as he turned back to face Dan, who was waiting patiently with a white stencil at the ready. The ink felt cold against his skin, as Dan pressed the design evenly across his pec. The stickiness that he felt left as the paper was removed and he looked over Dan's shoulder at the small standup mirror propped in the corner.
Making his way around the man that was busy moving his tray to the chair side, he looked at the dark blue markings in a small V above his heart. Nodding in approval, he made his way back over to the setup.
"Let's do this." Steve muttered as he lowered himself into the cold leather.
Dan lowered him back and gave him a small rubber ball to hold in his right hand.
"Kay kid, if it hurts, you squeeze that ball as tight as possible. Just try not to move around much and this should go pretty quick. If you think it is going to be too much, just say the word and we can take a break, ok?"
"I got it, thanks."
Steve let himself sink into the music that was blasting, some heavy metal song that Eddie probably could have named from the first note. Tears prickled at the corner of his eye at the thought. The needle buzz forced his focus back as the sting from the first line began to form. The pain was there, but he realized it was not as bad as he imagined.
His mind wandered easily to Eddie and the gang, feeling the sting of the needles hitting a little too close to his sternum. It was a stark reminder of the demobats ripping into his flesh, the wounds of which still struggling to heal even rabies free.
He tightened his grip on the small ball as the he let the familiar echo of what-if surround his head. If he had been adamant to stay with Max and the others maybe she wouldn't be blind or left healing in a hospital bed long after months in a coma. If he had somehow switched places with Eddie drawing those creatures' attention away, maybe they could both be here bonding instead of just him.
Steve thought about the irony in life being full of things you don't expect. For most that applied to meeting the love of your life in the grocery aisle at the market, or getting the gig of a lifetime because a producer saw you by accident. It shouldn't mean that some of your best friends were dead, or severely traumatized by creatures that shouldn't exist.
It was bullshit. No other word could describe the way that life had decided this group of teens needed to be the heroes in a story no one asked to be written. He felt the flush of fury in his face. No amount of preparation could ever comfort you as you buried an empty coffin filled with only a glossy silk graduation cap and old cassette tape. The songs continued as his musings pushed the pain out, years of pent-up frustration and sadness melting into the ink that was slowly filling in his skin.
He hadn't realized Dan had leaned back, or that the buzzing had stopped until the music cut away. Slowly blinking his eyes open he tucked his chin down and in to look at the handiwork that had been carved into him. He couldn't believe that he had actually gone through with it, but he was proud of himself.
"Check it out in the mirror, it looks sick. If you are happy, we can get it covered and get you on your way."
Steve slid from the chair and walked back over to the mirror as the stinging began to settle in. It looked odd sitting there against the pale expanse of his slim frame, but he studied it non the less.
The six small black bats formed a perfect flying V, the largest of which closest to his heart.
Six little bats for the kids that he proudly bore the nickname "babysitter" for.
Six little bats that Eddie would never get to see flying high off a session of D&D again.
Six bats to match those that painted Eddie's arm, solidifying their bond.
He never expected that the small tattoo idea would mean so much to him, but then again, he would always be the person to tell you that life is full of things you don't expect.