Under one Condition

"Oh, c'mon, Ro. I used to work at a tattoo parlor! Let me give you one!" Francis begged.

"Now why would I do that?" Rochelle smirked. She fired another shot with her hunting rifle out the window, watching yet another zombie fall. She sat back from the window and looked at him. They had been talking with each other for an hour or so, and one of Rochelle's comments on his tattoos had given him an idea. That he could give her one.

"Because I'm good at it, and you don't hate me," he replied, grinning at her over the little joke.

"How do you know?" she asked, crossing her arms with a sarcastic smile.

"Why would you be sitting alone in a room with me if you didn't," he retorted.

"True, true. But still. I need a concrete reason to allow you to put ink on my skin." She set down the rifle and moved to sit closer to him. He gave her room to sit besides him on the couch, and she thanked him.

He thought for a minute. "I ain't gonna lie, Ro. You're hot. And a tat would make you even hotter."

"Oh?" she chuckled. "I think that's more of a reason that benefits you."

"It could benefit you."

"How?"

"Well, it could be to your advantage by being to my advantage." She raised her eyebrows, implying he should explain. "Like I said. You're hot. As in I think you're hot."

"As in you wanna sleep with me?" She had an unreadable expression on her face.

He blushed, something she didn't expect from him. "Well, I wouldn't say no. And with you, I definately wouldn't hate it..."

She laughed. "As much as I'd love it, don't expect me to comply anytime soon." She patted his arm. "And as for that tattoo... We better head over to that little tattoo parlor that the boys and I passed on our way here."

Francis' eyebrows went up. "You mean it?" He hadn't thought he could convince her to get one.

"Under one condition," Rochelle added. "I get to give you one."

"Done," he agreed without hesitation.

"Where are you two going?" Zoey asked as she watched both Francis and Rochelle grab their weapons and go to leave.

Rochelle smiled. "No where."

"Like I believe that," Coach snorted. "I had three kids. You two are hiding something."

"You'll see when we get back," Francis called as he pulled Rochelle out the door.

"You realize that I get to choose your new tattoo," the reporter asked, swinging her axe at yet another zombie.

"Yeah. But I'm choosing yours," the biker smiled back.

"Works for me. I've already decided on yours."

"What is it?" Francis knocked a zombie back, and proceeded with a pistol shot to the head.

"You can wait and find out." She winked at him and was distracted by the roar of an oncoming hoard.

Suddenly, both were surrounded by the undead. Rochelle slashed through zombie after zombie, trying to make her way over to Francis who was having more trouble beating back the crowd. His gun was no good for close range, barely knocking any of them back. Just as she made it to him, a smoker's tongue shot out and wrapped around her. Her axe was torn from her hands and landed at his feet as she was dragged away.

"Help!" she yelled. He grabbed the axe and forced his way out of the small crowd of zombies, running after the woman. He caught up to her just as the smoker pulled her all the way to it. He slammed the ax into the side of the infected's neck, severing the head.

He held out a hand, and pulled her up. "Thanks..."

"No problem. Besides. It's not his job to tongue you like that," he grinned.

She blushed but replied jokingly, "Well, that job is open."

"I'll take it," he answered. She laughed, and it turned into a cough. "Take it easy, okay? Take some pain pills." He handed her a bottle and she popped a few of the pills in her mouth.

"Thanks again."

They continued on to the tattoo parlor, Rochelle fighting with her axe again. They made it there near nightfall, stepping inside and baracading the door.

"You first," Francis instructed, turning the chair for her to sit. Rochelle sat down. "Where do you want your new tat?"

She started to pull down the neck of her shirt so the back of her shoulder was visible. But she stopped when she thought of something that would make her shoulder much more visible, and tease Francis. So it was a win-win.

She took of her shirt and turned so he could see the back of her shoulder. "Right here."

He stared at her for a moment, completely caught off gaurd by her action. "Uh..." he fought for words. "That's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"You... Showing that much skin." He sat down next to her. After digging in a drawer for a moment, he pulled out some rubbing alchohal. He dipped a cottonball into it and gently washed the area he would be tattooing. Goosebumps rose on her skin.

"That's cold!" she complained.

He continued on, a bit amused by her. He dug out a few different stencils and set to work. Once he had what he wanted mirrored on her dark skin, he picked up the tattoo machine and set up the ink caps.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I guess." She waited, listening to the whir of the small machine. It stung as he slowy outlined the design. "What is it?"

"Hold on. Wait until I'm done. I'll show you then," he replied, trying to focus on the tattoo and not how exposed she was.

About an hour later, Francis finished the tattoo and held up a mirror so she could see it. It was a line of text that flowed gracefully on her shoulder.

"I love it!" she smiled. It read 'Words like violence break the silence ~ Pleasures remain, so does the pain.' It was a line from Enjoy the Silence, a song sung by Depeche Mode and one of her favorites.

"Okay, I gotta show you how to use this." He held up tattoo machine.

"I know how. My friend had a tattoo party back in collage and the artist taught me how. Of course he was just hitting on me, but I still learned," Rochelle said.

"So you have another tattoo?"

"Honey, you'll have to find that out, won't you?" She gave him a devious smile and gave him a pat on the arm. "Where do you want your tattoo?"

"Any where on my torso or arms. Not like I'm saving any spot," he grinned.

She tugged at his vest. "Shirt. Off."

"You haven't even put your shirt on yet."

"Like you mind. Besides, my shirt'll rub on it and it'll hurt. I think we'll both live if I don't have my shirt on," she reasoned, though she really just enjoyed making Francis squirm. She started to pull the vest off him and repeated, "Shirt. Off. Now."

Francis complied, taking off his vest and his tanktop.

"Mm.." Rochelle bit her lip. His torso didn't have too many tattoos, but he did have a six pack.

He raised his eyebrows, pleased buy her reaction. "Like what you see?"

She didn't reply but put a hand on his chest to push him back in the chair. "Come on. You're getting your tattoo." She grabbed the stencils out of the drawer and held up the different fonts for lettering.

"What will it be?" he asked.

"Don't look," she spoke as she applied the stencil, starting over his heart.

He attempted to look down at what she was doing but she blocked him. "No. I told you not to look."

"Fine."

She smirked and leaned her arm against his chest as she began to trace over the stencil. She teased him like this the entire time while she put permanent ink on his skin.

Another hour passed before she finished his tattoo.

"Can I look at it yet?" he asked.

"Yes."

She moved away and he looked down. He laughed when he saw what was now tattooed over his heart.

'Property of Rochelle'

"Like it?"

Francis laughed again. "Yeah."

Rochelle smiled and leaned foreward, pressing her lips against his in a kiss. It was their second kiss to be exact. She had kept her promise and kissed him when she(along with the three boys) had reached the other side of the bridge. But that one had been a small peck on the cheek. This one was... so much more.

He responded quickly, pulling her against him. She melted into his arms, against his chest. When they finally pulled away, they were out of breath. She looked at him, her face flushed. "That was... Nice."

"Yeah..."

She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in again, determined to claim him as her own. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and she was happy to find how talented he was at it. Unfortunately, they had to stop. "They'll be... expecting us back soon," he mumbled, acting as awkward as a highschooler with his first girlfriend.

She smiled at him. "Yeah."

Niether made a move to rise. She snuggled against his bare chest and spoke, "They're gonna think something happened between us."

"They wouldn't be wrong."

"Nope."

"Good."