This was written after watching the season five episode Cold Fusion. We know Frankie lived on a beach in Cyprus with a tattoo artist calls Andreos, and we also know Holly Aird also has a few tattoos. So, when you put them all together you get this, or at least my brain did. This is for Joodiff, my fellow B/F shipper and amazing plot bunny,
"I'm going out, I'll be back in a hour or so." Frankie shouted up the stairs, listening for any response.
"Okay, can you pick up something for tea, or are you going shopping?" Boyds reply floating down to her.
"No I'm not going shopping, but yes, I will pick something up for tea. Any preferences?" Frankie checking she had her bank card with her if she was going shopping.
"Not fussed, pasta and something." Frankie pulling a face at his indecision.
"Okay, see you later." Frankie throwing her keys in the air and catching them as she headed out the front door.
Her appointment wasn't until two and it was only just gone one, she had time to go shopping before hand. Taking a slow stroll around the supermarket Frankie contemplate pasta options. Finally she bought spaghetti, bacon, butter, a shallot, fresh garlic, cream, eggs and parmesan. A simple spaghetti carbonara would do for tea, especially if she was cooking. Taking the shopping back to the car she put it all in the boot, checking her watch to make sure she wasn't going to be late. Seeing she still had twenty minutes she took the longest route to the small shop on the outskirts of city. Parking the car she got out and smiled, time to indulge in one of her hobbies.
As she pushed the shop door open she heard the tinkel of a bell, looking up to see the small silver bell attached to the door. She breathed in, taking in the smell that was unique to the shop she was in. She could hear a faint buzzing coming from somewhere in the shop, the sounding making her heart beat a little faster.
"Hey, Frankie." The young man behind the counter called out as the door shut behind her.
"Hi, Sean." The adrenaline starting to rush through her system as she greeted the man.
"You ready?" The man smiling at Frankie as she stopped at the counter.
"Definitely." Frankie's smile growing as she moved to follow the man into the back of the shop.
She followed Sean into a small well lit room, with a huge black chair sat in the middle of it.
"Take a seat, everything's nearly ready. You still wanting what we disused?" Sean pulling a small stool over so he could sit beside the black chair as Frankie sat down in it.
"Yes, just as we talked about." Frankie removing her jacket and draping it behind her head as she replied.
"Give me five and we'll get started." Sean moving around the room as he gathered up the last few bits he would need before taking a seat.
Frankie could feel her heart rate increase, her body producing more adrenaline as she sat and waited. She watched Sean set everything up, the buzzing sound she heard when she entered the shop now less than a metre away.
"Okay, where we putting it?" Sean holding out the small piece of white paper.
Frankie held out her right arm, turning it so her forearm was exposed.
"Right there." Pointing to spot in the centre of her forearm.
"Sure." Sean holding the piece of paper over her arm then pressing down we he thought it was in the right place.
Rubbing over the paper Sean peeled it back off and looked at Frankie to confirm she was happy. Frankie nodded her head in agreement.
"Let's get started then." Sean dipping the small pen like device into the black ink and bringing it to Frankie's arm.
Frankie watched as the small black writing took shape, the numbers slowly becoming permanently etched into her skin. Every since she got her first tattoo at the tender age of fifteen she had become addicted to them. She blamed her addiction to tattoos on why she ended up living on a beach in Cyprus with Andreos, and that one tattoo that she could never look at without thinking about him. As Sean finished the last digit of the six figure number Frankie couldn't help smiling.
"There we go, all done. You know the drill, any problems pop back in and I'll have a look." Sean taping the clingfilm in place after he had cleaned up the excess ink.
"Thanks, Sean. I owe you a drink sometime for fitting me in at such short notice." Frankie said as she climbed out the big black chair and stretched.
"Don't be daft. Just tell your friends about me, send them in my direction." Sean winking at Frankie as she dug in her pocket and pulled out the money to pay for the tattoo.
"Until next time, Sean." Frankie giving Sean a quick hug before she took her jacket from the back of the chair.
Sean walked Frankie to the shop door, holding it open for her as she said goodbye and left. Frankie was still on the adrenaline rush of having a new tattoo done, the giddy haze that was brought on from her body blocking out the pain of the tattoo. Opening the car she threw her coat on the passenger seat and climbed in, putting her seat belt on and starting the car. Getting back into the city to get home wasn't as easy as getting out the city so by the time Frankie made it home she was passed the annoyed stage.
"Frankie, that you?" Boyd yelled from the living room.
"I should bloody well hope so. Who the hell else has keys to our house?" Frankie giving him the sarcastic reply his stupid question deserved.
"Fair point. What did you get for tea?" His words getting louder until the man himself was stood right in front of her.
"Nice to see you too. Spaghetti carbonara since you asked for pasta something. I'll go put this lot in the kitchen." Holding up the shopping bags for Boyd to see.
Boyd followed Frankie through to the kitchen, moving over to the kettle as Frankie put the food shopping away. Frankie went to pass him but he stopped her, his hand on her wrist.
"Let me see." His words soft and low.
"See what?" Frankie attempting to sound innocent as she looked up at Boyd.
"I can smell it." His eyes locked with hers as he dared her to challenge him.
"What do you mean you can smell it? Smell what?" Knowing she was pushing her lucky but trying anyway.
"The cleaning stuff, the cream, possibly even the ink. I'm not sure what, but I can smell it. So, I'm going to ask you again. Where is it? And what is it?" Frankie knowing she was busted as she shook her arm out of Boyds grip.
"Let me clean it up again first, then you can see it better that way." Moving over to the sink as she rolled up her sleeve.
After peeling off the cling film Frankie let the water from the tap run over the small numbers before patting it dry. She held her breath, turning back around to face Boyd as she held out her arm. Boyd took hold of her wrist, his eyes locked on the small numbers, numbers he could recite in his sleep. He looked up at Frankie, saw her nibbling on her bottom lip, the telltale trait showing she was nervous. The skin around the numbers was still red and swollen, especially against Frankie's pale skin. Keeping hold of her wrist Boyd used his other hand to brush a finger ever so gently over the tattoo. Frankie shivered, whether from the feel of his finger on her heated skin or the gentleness he had touched her she wasn't sure.
"Sore?" Boyd asked, not missing Frankie shiver.
"Not really." Suppressing another shiver as Boyd brought her arm higher and placed his lips on her skin.
"Why that?" His eyes again locking with Frankie's as he spoke.
"Because it's you." Her answer simple. "It was who you were when we met, it's who you are every day, it's who you'll always be." Her honest response making them both look at the tattoo.
Frankie was right, the six-figure number on her arm was Boyd. It was a number he had been given when he joined the police force, a number that was unique to him that he had and would carry right through his police career.
"I don't know what to say." Boyd lost for words as he again stroked a finger over the tattoo and then looked back up at Frankie.
"Nothing you can say really. I have a small piece of you with me wherever I go now. You'll always be with me." Standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips softly across his.
Boyd responded instantly, letting go of her arm as he returned the kiss. He placed a hand on head and angled her so he could deepen the kiss, pulling her closer as he did. The kiss was only broken when they both need a fresh supply of oxygen.
"I love you, Frankie." His words a mere whisper as he rested his forehead against Frankie's.
"I love you too, detective superintendent Peter Boyd, warrant number one seven six four zero one." Both of them glancing at Frankie's arm where that very number now sat, a permanent testament to the man himself.