[debut] Consider yourself defiled.
Hank was gonna be sick. Despite the fact he’d just showered, conditioned and deep moisturized, he felt dirty as fuck all over. He burped and held his stomach, swallowing down the rising bile and giving Karen a desperate look.
“Shit, you’re totally not joking about this, are you?”
Dial Tone? She fucked Dial Tone? Of all the penisaurs she could have bumped uglies with in the Big Apple, she had to choose Bill? That wasn’t buddies. Sure, Hank had had his fair share of snatch since she’d been away but that was different. Those women had come to him. It just wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do to refuse a beautiful woman and her lonely vag, and Hank would be damned if he was going to sit back and let all that magnificence go unappreciated. But Bill? If he had a vagina - which Hank thought was entirely possible - it definitely wasn’t magnificent, which meant it totally wasn’t worthy of a repeat inspection.
“…Eww.” Mental images. “Ugh.” Sweet baby Jesus, he was really going to throw up.
Karen sat up and Hank immediately glanced away, determined not to get sucked into those beautiful, fucking innocent looking eyes. She knew exactly what this was doing to him.
“Hank…”
Out popped his lower lip in a man-child pout, and he looked around him before spotting the closet and homing in on it. Stepping inside, his kicked-puppy gaze disappeared from view as he pulled the door shut.
“Oh, come on, honey, it’s not that big a deal,” Karen insisted as she stood, silently reveling in his jealousy. She’d been with Hank long enough to know when he was sulking. “I mean, I kind of felt like I owed him one. I did, y’know,” she shrugged and grimaced lightly, “ruin his life and all... That night I married him and then I jumped in the car with you…”
A wicked grin flashed across Hank’s face at the memory before another wave of nausea hit. He put a fist to his mouth and stared hard at the thin slice of sun creeping in through the crack between the doors, the only light in the dark closet.
Karen sighed with relief. “God, it feels good to tell the truth.”
No, it doesn’t. No, it really, really doesn’t, Hank wanted to inform her, but that would ruin the whole silent treatment gig he had going on. A pity fuck was still a fuck in his book, and a fuck with the Dial Tone meant the end of the world as Hank knew it. Even Prick Springfield would have been preferable, and he would’ve told Karen that if he didn't think it would encourage her. The fucker.
Becca might not think she was anything like her mom but Hank knew they could both be as she-devilish as the other when they wanted to be. Pushing his lip out further, he nudged open the creaky door, intent on making Karen feel guilty as all hell. This had to be worth a fumble in the school canteen during lunch, at the very least.
“You better get funky with my junk later to make up for this, woman,” he called out, taking a look left and right for her as he left the closet. “Otherwise there will be major sulkage… Karen?”
No Karen. Lots and lots of people though. In nothing but a towel around his waist and one on his head, Hank felt pleasantly violated by the many prying eyes. And confused as fuck. He turned to look behind him, eyebrows rising at the unfamiliar door, at the vast array of sports equipment inside.
“Ohh… So this is what it feels like to come out of the closet.”
[ooc: One Hank Moody comin' outta the games closet! Traditional debut - first person to find him can explain all the island shit, others can find him somewhere in the rec room. Either way, he'll still be in his towels and he won't be in a hurry to get changed :D ST/LT welcome]