Work Text:
Marinette squeezed Jason’s hand in hers, her grip painful if the look on his face was any indication. “I am going to murder you for talking me into this,” she mumbled under her breath, grimacing.
He coughed on a chuckle. “Baby, we haven’t even started yet.”
She glared at him. “If I don’t have ink on my skin in less than ten seconds, I am–” She broke off as the tattoo gun finally reached her skin.
Her death grip on her too-smug-for-his-own-good boyfriend’s hand loosened incrementally as the itching pain registered, much less than her brain had imagined it to be.
“Oh, that’s not too bad…if you say’ I told you so’, I swear to kwami-”
“I told you it wouldn’t be that bad,” said Jason smugly.
“Fuck you, Jason Todd.”
“I mean, if you’re offering,” he wiggled his eyebrows.
The death glare returned. “You’re not even gonna have a trace to be found once I set the Plagg on you,” she threatened.
He gulped.
She smirked in triumph, then realized what her boyfriend had been doing when the sound and feel of the tattoo gun registered again.
He smiled down at her, rubbing her hip with his free hand soothingly. “It’s not very big, it shouldn’t take too long.”
“That’s what she said.”
The clock in the tattoo parlor struck two, the noise of the chimes loud over the tattoo gun, in the otherwise quiet space.
“What do you think about me getting a matching one?” he asked her.
She looked up at him quizzically.
“I thought you didn’t like them because it made you too…stand out too much. Also, couple tats are not either of our cups of tea. It’s like cringey nicknames or matching outfits.”
He tsked at her, grinning. “Okay, Pixie .”
She rolled her eyes. “‘Pixie’ is cute and has meaning and backstory. ‘Pookie with whipped cream and a cherry on top’ is not.”
“Are you jealous,” he asked her teasingly. “Do you secretly wish I called you my pookie-bear with whipped cream and a cherry on top?”
She faked a gag. “Todd, if you want to leave me with a tattoo of my ex-boyfriend’s initials on my back before the ink is even dry, just tell me.”
“Okay, I’ll stop,” he held up his hands placatingly. “Look, two free hands. You’re done.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She turned to the artist, who was wrapping the tattoo.
They smiled back at her happily. “All done. You and your boyfriend are super cute.”
“Thanks,” she blushed.
After the tattoo was healed, she took the cover off and examined its reflection in her mirror.
The little letters ‘jpt’ and ‘mdc’ were cleverly woven into the ink, which was a stylized replica of Jason’s lip print. She smiled, biting her lip as she traced the design with her fingertip.
It was perfectly them, and she couldn’t be happier.