rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

j. storm + his sarcastic attitude

"oh yeah babe, looks fucking awesome."

you click off the hair clippers in your hand, shaking it a bit to let the little hairs fall to the ground.

you actually manage to hold a straight face, even though looking at his absurd reflection in the mirror makes you want to burst out in laughter.

"mohawks are in."

"i look like a douchebag."

with a kick, you spin the plastic tarp-covered office chair around until he faces you directly. "johnny," you say sweetly, "you are a douchebag."

you can see a playful flicker of fire behind his eyes. "remind me to never ask you for a haircut again." he lunges toward you, trying to grab the clippers out of your hand, but you evade him.

you're clutching it in both hands, grinning stupidly, hunched over slightly as johnny bends his big, furnace of a torso over your back.

"get it off me," he says in a low, threatening tone as he presses a kiss behind your ear.

"you were being mean," you mutter. "how am i ever gonna launch my illustrious hairstylist career if my own boyfriend—"

you feel his smile again your skin. "please?"

"fine." you turn around, pushing him back into the chair with a thunk, eyes rolling at the grin on his face.