The Return of "Sarah"
Fandom: Swiss Army Man
Characters: Hank, Manny
Pairing: Hank/Manny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2654
Genre: Angst, fluff
Summary: Manny understands Hank much better than Hank thinks. This takes place after the events in "Adventures In Manny-Sitting"
The After Verse:
Dancing And Singing And Farting
Sex Lessons from "Sarah", Part One
Sex Lessons from "Sarah", Part Two
Sex Lessons from "Sarah", Part Three
Adventures In Manny-Sitting
Author's Note: Many, many, many thanks to all of the people who've helped me explore gender issues, sharing their stories and opinions.
For the next week, Hank went to the garbage cans every night and searched the recycling for the local newspaper. He dreaded news of the locker-room break-in. His heart sped up as he leafed through the stained, smelly pages. Then one night, he turned to a small section near the back:
Weird News
Carl Rogers, a security guard at Eisenhower School, maintains that the break-in and vandalizing of the boy’s locker room was committed by two men, one of them a quadriplegic. He was tested for drugs and found to have methamphetamine in his system. Rogers has been placed on suspension while he goes to drug rehab. Police maintain it was the work of local boys. Parents are being questioned.
Hank stuffed the newspaper page into his pocket with a sigh of relief. Townies. Of course, the obvious conclusion. He chuckled.
When he showed it to Manny in the morning, Manny frowned. “What’s a quadriplegic?” Manny was back in his old blue suit, cleaner from the locker room shower but worn and torn. He was still wearing his I’M WITH STUPID t-shirt.
“It’s someone who can’t move at all. Like you were when I first met you.”
“But I’m not now,” Manny said, offended. “I can move almost everything except my legs.”
“You were lying on the floor, Manny. And now they’re saying the guard was high. Damn, you bring me luck, you really do.”
Two days later, Hank and Manny brought back a headless rabbit they had killed to their “home”. It was only a few hours past dawn. After they’d made the fire, Hank lowered Manny to the ground. Hank had made a sort of chair for Manny, a yoga mat on the ground, a pile of rocks covered with a blanket holding him up. Settling on an old pillow, Hank proceeded to skin the rabbit. He broke the back right knee, opened the skin and peeled it off. Rabbits were tough to skin. He could not kill a deer. Even though its meat would feed them for a long time, and Hank wanted to teach himself to tan hide, he could not bring himself to kill Bambi’s mother.
“When is Sarah coming back?”
“Would you stop asking, Manny! Shit, you never stop!” Hank yanked the skin hard.
“I miss her reading to me. I miss dancing. I miss the way she touches me. Why won’t you be Sarah any more, Hank?”
Hank dropped the rabbit. “What?”
Manny sort of shrugged, as much as he could. “To do those things, you have to be Sarah. You don’t do them as Hank. You only do some of them. I’m not retarded, Hank, I know you and Sarah are the same person.”
“Don’t use that word.” Hank picked up the bloody rabbit and wiped the dirt off its back. His hands started to shake. “You didn’t say anything. I thought-I thought you thought we were two different people.”
“I don’t know what it is, or how it works, but you are like two people. And I like that. I like that a lot. When you gave me the flowers, you were trying to make it up to me because you got upset about being Sarah.”
“You knew that?”
“Hank, when we ran away, you said she was ‘our’ Sarah. You said love can be whatever it wants to be. So if we have ‘our’ Sarah and Sarah is you, why isn’t that a good thing? Love can be whatever it wants to be.”
“Because-because it’s creepy.”
“Why is it creepy? Would it help if I was two people?”
“How in hell would you do that?”
“...I dunno. You’d have to teach me.”
“This is crazy, Manny. I mean, yeah, some guys are girls but that’s fucked up.”
“Then you’re fucked up?”
“What? No!” Hank tore the last of the skin off the rabbit and dropped it into a bucket of water. He waved his hands in the water to wash off the blood. “Yes!” He couldn’t stay still. He stood up, wiping his face. “It just...happened, okay? You asked me to dress up, Manny!” He stared out at the forest. The rising sun filtered through the leaves. The leaves were starting to turn.
Manny gave him an exasperated look, blue eyes bright. “I love you as Hank and I love you as Sarah! So why can’t you love yourself as Hank and love yourself as Sarah?”
“We are-she is-I am not! Shit, Manny, I can’t think straight with you telling me that.” He started pacing. “Do you know what people back home would think? That weirdo Hank Thompson got his kicks from dressing up and pretending he’s a woman?” He scratched the top of his head furiously with both hands.
With a loud crack, Manny tilted his head to one side. “Why can’t you be a girl sometimes? Don’t you feel like a girl sometimes?”
Hank crossed his arms and resumed pacing. “Sometimes. When I’m Sarah I forget I’m me but at the same time I’m me and me is Hank and shit I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I have a wang and not a vagina.”
“But I like it when you’re a girl. You say nice things, you cuddle, you touch and kiss me more. Don’t you like that, Hank?”
“Oh, god, if my dad could hear this-“ Hank almost kicked over the bucket with the skinned rabbit floating in it.
“He can’t,” Manny pointed out. “Hank, we make our rules! So if we can make our own rules, why can’t you be Sarah when you want to be? Or be Sarah when you’re still Hank?”
“My head hurts,” Hank moaned. “I never thought about guys before I met you. You’re special.” He sat down, hard, on the ground next to Manny.
“I’m special.”
“These last couple of weeks have been the best of my life. You’ve given me all the things I didn’t think I deserved to have. Manny, it’s been like magic sometimes. And not just because you came to life.” He stood still, staring out at the trees. Okay.
Hank went back to their lean-to, and dug through the piles of clothes. He pulled out the wig and dress, pulled off his pants. Dressed as Sarah, he went back to where Manny sat. Hank made his hips swing just a little more.
Manny’s face lit up, eyes wide, mouth breaking into a happy open-mouthed smile. “Sarah!”
“I’m back, Manny. Missed me?”
“Yeah. Come here, I wanna kiss you, come here!”
Hank slid down on the ground next to Manny. I can do this, Hank thought. He titled his head coquettishly. “I missed you, too, Manny.” He extended his hand toward Manny.
Manny stared at Hank. “What do you want me to do?”
“Kiss my hand. Gentlemen kiss ladies’ hands. Like in Gone With The Wind.”
In order for Manny to kiss his hand, Hank had to lean it against Manny’s mouth. Manny managed a clumsy kiss, then looked at Hank. “Why kiss the hand? It doesn’t do anything. Do you kiss my hand?” Awkwardly, Manny lifted his right arm, hand dangling.
“No, only gentlemen kiss ladies’ hands, Manny.” Hank leaned over, took Manny’s chin in his hand. He kissed Manny gently on the mouth. Manny’s arm thumped back onto the ground. It was true, this was all so much easier when he was Sarah. “I love you, nobody can love you as much as I do, nobody has ever loved you as much as I do.” He gently swept the back of his left fingers down Manny’s cheek. He kissed Manny’s forehead.
Manny closed his eyes, making a soft, sweet exhaling sound. “Sarah, I wish I could give you presents. I wish I could give you uh-um-breadsticks.”
“Breadsticks?”
“Or chocolate.” He licked Hank’s lips and then gave him a peck on the mouth.
“You’re getting experimental,” Hank said with a chuckle.
“Sometimes I lie there and think about stuff to do,” Manny said. With a small crack, he let his head drop on Hank’s shoulder. “I want to be like this forever. Except with a recording studio.” He sang, in a soft voice:
Lo-ove, love love love love
Lo-ove, love love love love
Hank closed his eyes, listening to his friend. This was like his dreams of being loved. Except instead of a moonlit bedroom, or a loud club, it was a sunny afternoon, and they were sitting on the ground. Didn’t matter. Manny continued to sing.
“That was amazing, Manny,” Hank said, eyes still closed, when Manny finished. Suddenly, he felt a tugging at the back of his head, and the wig was pulled off. “Hey!” His eyes opened. The wig was on his lap.
“Hank, it’s okay,” Manny whispered, not moving his head from Hank’s shoulder. “Maybe you can be Sarah while you’re Hank. Sarah’s inside of you. You don’t have to dress up for me any more.”
To his own surprise, tears sprung to Hank’s eyes. “That’s one of the nicest things anybody’s ever said to me.”
Manny leaned his head back against the “chair”. “I don’t think you have to be her any more, Hank.” His large blue eyes swept over Hank’s body. “You don’t need to dress up. When I saw you standing there, I had a thought: it’s Hank in a wig and a dress. I don’t need Sarah. I need Hank.”
“Oh God.” Hank wiped at the tears sliding down his face. “Thank you. Thank you.” The wig was in his lap. He played with it, staring down at the red rags. “Manny,” he repeated, “I’ll do whatever you want, I promise not to hold back like Hank-I-would.” He paused, not sure he should say what came next. “But I like being Sarah sometimes.”
“Hank, what if you pretended you’re Hank pretending to be Sarah? So you’re pretending to be both of you, but you’re really you.” Manny lifted his right arm and dropped it awkwardly into Hank’s lap. “Like when we pretend we’re playing golf.”
Hank laughed. “Shit, Manny, that was really good talking.” He moved his upper body so that he was semi-facing Manny. “Let’s give it a try.” He kissed his friend delicately on the mouth, then kissed him all over his face, including his thick eyebrows and temples. Manny was quiet, letting Hank kiss him. Hank decided to try something he’d seen in the movies. He flicked his eyelashes on Manny’s cheek.
“Oh, I like that,” Manny said.
“They’re called butterfly kisses,” Hank whispered. He proceeded to brush Manny’s face with his eyelashes, pleasant feelings of arousal almost as gentle.
“Let me try,” Manny said eagerly. Hank leaned forward. Jerkily, Manny fluttered his eyelashes on Hank’s face. But then his head butted Hank’s.
“Ow! Watch it!”
“I’m so sorry, Hank!”
“You just need practice, big guy.” Hank slid his left arm down Manny’s right, and lifted it, feeling the worn wool of Manny’s suit coat. He continued until he reached Manny’s hand. “Don’t break my fingers, okay?”
“What are you doing?” But Manny didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he watched Hank’s hand, fascinated.
“Sarah would do this.” Hank threaded his fingers through Manny’s and squeezed his hand. Manny squeezed back loosely, squinting from the effort. “Good!” Hank unthreaded his fingers but still held Manny’s hand. On impulse, he licked Manny’s palm.
“Oh my GOD!” Manny yelped. “Do that again!”
Hank dragged his tongue along Manny’s palm, and then flicked Manny’s pulse point. Manny jerked, clearly surprised. “I wanna do it!”
“Okay.” Hank lifted his left hand up to Manny’s mouth. Manny stuck out his tongue and gave Hank’s palm a lick. Oh my God indeed! Manny smiled slyly up at Hank. “Let me do that again, then you do it.”
They repeated licking each other’s palms, giggling. “This is what monkeys do!” Hank exclaimed, rubbing his hands on Manny’s head, mussing his dark brown hair. “They lick their hands and clean each other!” He made ape noises, laughing and pawing at Manny’s face and hair. “Ook! Ook!”
“We’re monkeys!” Manny cried. “Make me do it, Hank!”
Hank grabbed Manny’s hands, and patted himself with them, continuing to make ape noises. “Oh, you’re getting me so clean, I’m the cleanest monkey in the zoo! Ook!”
“No, I’m the cleanest monkey!” Manny made a rough approximation of an ape noise.
“No, me!” Hank grabbed Manny around the torso and pulled Manny’s head into his lap. Continuing to make ape noises, Hank pawed over Manny’s body.
“Hank!” Manny’s voice was muffled. “My face is in your wig!”
“Oh!” Hank stopped, and pulled the wig out from under Manny’s head. Manny’s head rested against Hank’s thigh. Hank started giving Manny a back massage. Manny sighed.
“You know so many good things to do, Hank.”
Hank squeezed his friend’s shoulders, hearing a slight cracking noise. “How’s this?”
“I like it.” Hank felt the sort-of-maybe-not-dead man’s shoulders relaxing. He moved to Manny’s shoulder blades and upper back. Manny was right, pretending to be Hank pretending to be Sarah was working. Hank was himself, and the Sarah part was part of him. Along with digesting these feelings, he was aware of a sense of loss. He could never fully be Sarah again. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend to be Sarah when he wanted to.
“Don’t stop, Hank,” Manny protested.
“Sorry, buddy, there’s something I gotta do.” He pulled Manny’s body out of his lap and put it against the "chair".
In a few minutes he was back, holding the paperback copy of Gone With The Wind. He plopped down next to Manny and opened the book. Manny nearly bounced with excitement.
“You remember, Rhett Butler wasn’t received?
“Yeah! Nobody liked him!”
“Okay.” Hank opened the book, and read in a high, Southern accent:
“Scarlett, he has the most terrible reputation! He was expelled from West Point-that’s a military school, where they teach guys to be soldiers-and this Mr. Butler took a girl out buggy riding. She couldn’t have been very nice, or she wouldn’t have gone with him without a chaperone. And my dear, they stayed out all night! And guess what-“
“What?” Manny exclaimed.
Hank smiled, and continued.
“He refused to marry her the next day! And her brother called him out and they had a duel and Mr. Butler shot the brother and he died, and Mr. Butler had to leave Charleston and nobody receives him.”
“Did she have a baby?”
“No, but she was ruined just the same.”
They sat there the rest of the day, Hank reading to Manny about the adventures of Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler. It was paradise. Just the two of them at last.