rodrikstark's headcanons (part 4)

f. adler + seasick

"do you want some?" mary asks, offering her purple water bottle.

"thanks—" you shake your head. "but i think if i open my mouth, i'm gonna—"

her eyes widen with fear, cutting your dread short. "i'll get frank."

instant regret. interrupting her uncle requires the boat to come to a lurching stop, exacerbating the current crisis inside your stomach. you grind your teeth and mutter to yourself as frank shuffles to get to you. "mary. don't touch that steering wheel," he reminds her firmly.

"i'm just pretending!"

frank joins you on the plastic bench along the starboard side, placing a cautionary amount of distance between you. "hey."

"hi, frankie," you sing, fake sweetness thinly veiling your distress. you bury your face in your hands.

"here." his palm feels fiery against your skin. he guides you until your temple rests against the safety railing, and the cool metal makes you shiver. "keep your head there and look out into the distance."

it's nice, you guess. the florida sun falling away and patterning the sky with shades of orange that slowly creep towards blue. the boat rocks not-so-unbearably beneath your skull, tilting the horizon back and forth. "you think a romantic sunset is gonna cure me?"

he ignores your quip. typical frank. "do you know what causes motion sickness?"

"no." you don't really want to know. you just want it to stop.

"you're feeling motion from the boat, but you're not seeing it." he rubs comforting patterns over your spine. "'cause you keep looking at your damn phone."

if you weren't certain that any sudden movement would mean losing your dinner, you'd shoot him a vicious look. "you're too busy working and not paying attention to me."

watching frank was only so entertaining before you got bored. studying the way he wiped sweat off his brow, only to accidentally paint on some grease in its place. his deep, frustrated groans. and his big strong hands, which tugged up his loose jeans after every time he bent over to—

"your perception," frank starts, brushing some sweat off your forehead, "doesn't match up with what you believe you're experiencing." he punctuates this with a playful tap to your nose. "and your brain doesn't like mixed signals."

"sounds very philosophical, professor adler."

"i'll get us on land as fast as i can," he promises. "you gotta hold strong for us, though."

"and then you'll pay attention to me," you mumble happily.

he laughs. "yeah, baby, then i'm all yours."