Chapter Text
“Which one was your first?” Danny asks, chin bumping the top of Frank’s head, the younger’s back leaned against his chest. Danny’s pointer finger is slowly tracing the snake tattooed on Frank’s forearm.
Frank smiles. “Guess.”
“Hmm,” Danny hums, “This one? It looks like you lost a dare.” His fingers move to the skull across the front of the boy’s neck.
Frank swallows against the touch. “No,” he huffs. “Got that one to piss off an old foster parent. Super weird and uptight religious lady. Wanted to get something super obvious.”
Danny’s laugh moves the blond hair. “You achieved it.”
Frank cranes his neck to glare up at grey eyes. “I like it! I like it. Relax,” Danny adds.
“Yeah, well, it’s not that one. My first is a lot smaller,” Frank turns to lean his head back under Danny’s chin, who responds by nuzzling lightly into his hair.
“It’s one I’ve seen before?” Danny asks.
Frank smirks. “Oh, yeah. You’ve seen ‘em all.”
“I just wanted to hear you say it,” Danny replies, smug, and Frank can feel eyes scanning every inch of his exposed skin.
“Give up yet?”
“Thinking. It’s probably a silly design, ‘cause you must’ve been young when you got it. Probably somewhere low-key, so you didn’t get in trouble…” Danny trails off, but when his breath hitches a moment later Frank knows he’s figured it out, and braces himself just in time before Danny moves, quickly flipping them so Frank is face down on his mattress with Danny above him.
He feels cold hands trail down his back, stopping at the waistband of his boxers before pulling one side down just a few inches. Warm lips press to the spot on his right ass cheek he knows the small, faded tattoo of a fist with a raised middle finger lies. “My favorite one,” Danny says against his skin.
Frank scoffs in feigned annoyance, pushing Danny off as he turns to sit up. “Liar. It’s stupid, and the artist did a shit job.” The artist being Joey, fourteen at the time and giving his first ever stick and poke, but he isn’t going to tell Danny that.
“That’s why I like it. That, and it reminds me of the first time I saw it,” Danny says, wide grin spreading across his face.
“Fuck off,” Frank shoves at the man, but he barely moves, just laughing down at Frank’s flushed features.
Frank looks toward his nightstand, moving to grab a cigarette, but before he can Danny leans forward and snatches up his forearms in his hands. Frank turns back to see the killer studying the tattoos on his arms closely, left thumb caressing the thorny rose design at his wrist. “Would you get one for me?” Danny asks softly.
Frank startles, then rolls his eyes. “You sap. Like what? ‘Property of Ghostface’ across my back?”
“Tempting, but too tacky,” Danny says, smiling, eyes still on Frank’s forearms. His right thumb brushes over the plain skin of Frank’s other wrist. “Maybe just ‘DJ,’ right here.” He brings Frank’s wrist to his mouth and presses a kiss to the spot.
Frank turns his hand, taking Danny’s arm into his grip. “Only if you get ‘FM’ right here,” He replies, pointing to the same spot on Danny’s wrist.
“Hmm,” Danny’s eyes find Frank’s, the low light of the room warming his cold gaze. “I’ll think about it.”
Even though it was a stupid idea, a joke they’d never follow through with, Frank feels his heart sink. He pushes the feeling aside as he drops Danny’s arm. When did he get so soft? “Yeah, yeah, you think about it, asshole.”
Danny shifts, moving to lay on his side, one hand supporting his head. “Now, tell me about the rest.”
Frank sighs wistfully, like this is such a chore, despite the corners of his mouth lifting. He starts with the lion above his right knee. Danny’s eyes never leave him, his attention never falters, even as the room falls into complete darkness and he can hardly see the inked skin of his boy anymore.