North leaned against the brick wall beside the entrance, rubbing the back of his neck. North looked…unstable as if he was experiencing aftershocks from an earthquake none of them could feel.
Bolt studied them both with narrowed eyes.
“Alright,” he said finally. “You two couldn’t be that drunk.”
Fly gave a short laugh. “Not even close.”
For a few seconds they stood there listening to the distant crash of waves.
Then Bolt snapped his fingers like he’d just solved a problem. “Well hell,” he said. “I know exactly what this night needs.”
Fly eyed him warily. “That’s usually a dangerous sentence.”
Bolt grinned.
“Ink like we talked about at Blacks a few days ago.”
North lifted a brow.
Bolt jerked his thumb toward the street. “We can go back to Anchor & Ink where we popped our virgin tat cherries.”
Fly looked at North grinning. “Geezus, Bolt.”
North looked back.
Neither of them said anything for a long moment.
Then Fly pushed off the wall.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s do it.”
Bolt clapped his hands once. “Good. Ink waits for no man.”
They started down the sidewalk toward their car, neon buzzing overhead, the ocean a dark presence at their backs.
Fly fell into step beside North, close enough to catch him if he went down, but careful not to touch.
He didn’t trust the ground anymore, and judging by the look in North’s eyes, neither did he.
The tattoo shop was tucked off a side street, all low light and humming machines, the air sharp with antiseptic and ink. The artist didn’t ask many questions. He studied the designs, nodded once, and got to work like this was just another kind of oath being marked.
Fly watched the needle bite into the inside of his left wrist, felt the sting bloom sharp and precise. It hurt but not in a way he wanted to flinch from. This pain had shape. Purpose. When it was done, the skin around the ink was red and tender, the lines still dark and fresh.
He wrapped it carefully, flexed his hand once.
North weathered his tattoo in the same way. Quiet and reflective. When it was finished, just above his heart, Fly breathed easier. This was something they shared so profoundly. “Man, this means so much. Thank you for sharing the idea and going through with it. I know it wasn’t easy.”
North nodded, rubbing at his temples. “My headache actually feels better.”
Bolt’s mouth compressed through the ink scoring his back, but Fly really loved the symbolism of what the lightning meant to him. Some of the nausea receded at the thought of brotherhood.
They didn’t say much on the ride back. The hotel loomed huge and ostentatious, a luxury accommodation that Fly insisted on because this was the calm before the storm of service, and who knew when they would even get a hot meal and shower afterward.
North and Fly shared a suite, a connecting door leading to the room Fly had comped for Shamrock and Bolt. The arrangement felt right, close enough to hear each other if needed, far enough to breathe.
Bolt disappeared into his room with a muttered goodnight. Shamrock lingered long enough to crack a half-smile at Fly, then followed.
Fly closed the door behind him and leaned back against it for a second, the day finally catching up.
