rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

f. adler + his tattoos

"frank, can i get tattoos like you someday?"

mary reaches her arm into the giant—but mostly empty—bucket of popcorn you're holding in your hand. she plucks out a few kernels.

"you have tattoos?" you ask shyly.

"um, yes. to both questions" he says, mussing up mary's hair as you all walk to his truck. "once you're old enough, you can make whatever decisions you want."

"what tattoo do you think i should get?" mary asks, looking up at you curiously.

your eyes widen. that is not a question you should answer on your fourth-ever date with frank. "um—"

"c'mon mary, it's late. gotta get you to bed." frank winks at you as she climbs into the passenger seat in the truck, you in the back.

once you arrive at his place, mary trudges up the stairs to get ready for bed. you sit at their little breakfast table, picking at bits of popcorn and watching frank as he fixes you a late-night cup of coffee.

now that mary has pointed it out to you, you do see a dark shape on frank's shoulder through the light fabric of his t-shirt.

when he turns around to hand you the mug, you ask, "so, when do i get to see 'em?" you slowly lick the salt off your fingers, smirking at him.

his eyes darken. "don't look at me like that."

you cock your head, questioning him.

he steps forward, and you adjust the way you're sitting so he stands between your legs. you maintain eye contact, looking up at him as you sip the coffee. "i've been trying so damn hard to take things slow with you," he mutters.

you try to maintain your flirty façade, but you can't help but burst into laughter. "don't be a perv, frank. i only wanna see your tattoos," you say half-seriously, and half-innocently.

he gets down on his knees in front of you, his big hands tracing up the length of your thighs. jesus.

you poke at his shoulder as he cages you in, one arm going over the back of your chair, the other bracing the table. "there's one tattoo," you count. "where are the others?"

he leans forward.

"if someone were to..." you start, interrupted by his lips pressing to yours. "accidentally spill coffee on your shirt, you'd—" you giggle when he nips at you. "you'd have to take it off, right?"

"hey, that is hot coffee," he warns you.

"hypothetically, frank," you emphasize.

he nuzzles your neck, his voice lowering. "if i hypothetically took my shirt off, you would just look at my tattoos? nothing more?"

again, you're not able to maintain this sexy banter. "depends on the tattoos." you genuinely laugh to yourself, imagining his chest and back inked with something ridiculous, like a face, or a misspelled phrase. you've seen plenty of bad tattoos on the internet.

but you're pretty sure frank's tattoos would be sexy.

he's a very sexy guy.

"you'd tell me, right?" he asks quietly, kissing down to your collarbone. "if i'm doing anything that's gonna mess this up, or goin' too fast." he hesitates.

you cup your cheeks in your hands, pushing him back a little so he'll look at you. "why are you so convinced you're gonna mess this up?"

his eyes flicker back and forth. "i dunno." he shrugs, studying your face. "you're just real good to me, and i want this to be good for you, too."

"so just gimme a peek," you whine. "please?"

he kisses you. "sure, sweetheart."