rodrikstark's headcanons (part 2)

j. torres + teaching you spanish

joaquín's lips form around the words, light and rapid and perfect. "dame un beso."

"da, me—" ugh, you sound so stupid compared to him.

he nods in encouragement. "un beso."

"dame un beso," you repeat shyly.

he chuckles, his hands giving light squeezes to your hips. with a hum, he pecks your lips. "muy bien."

you turn your head down, plucking idly at his t-shirt as you readjust in his lap. "what does it mean?"

"it's a very important phrase in spanish," he tells you, with a general air of knowledge. but, his smug expression hints at something different.

you frown. "don't tease me."

"say it again."

"dame un beso," you say, more confidently this time.

his lips press against your cheekbone, close to your temple, and curve into a smile.

you whine, toying with the curls at the base of his neck and delighting in his little shiver. that, at least, you still have over him. "why's it so important?"

"it's our little phrase, you and me."

pulling back, you see the mirth dancing in his eyes. "it can't mean i love you."

a month ago, when you requested that joaquín teach you some spanish, that was the first phrase he taught you.

"it's similar," he assures you, "say it again. you'll figure it out, cariño."

you cross your arms and mutter the phrase one more time.

scrunching your nose when he plants a kiss there.