(no subject)
Title: Back To The Garden
Author: thereweare
Rating: PG-ish (for now…)
Pairing: Alex/Hank
Summary: Hank finds homeless!Alex and takes him in to live with the rest of his fellow mutants.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, blah blah blah.
AN: Some stuff you might want to know- although this is majorly AU-ish, it is based heavily off of the backstory plot-lines and characteristics featured in First Class. So Hank was a nerdy little fellow working at the CIA when Charles found him. And since we didn't get much of a history behind Alex (apart from "oh yeah he's in jail but you don't get to really know why or for how long or what his life was like before"), most of it is my own randomly picked backstory because I don't know.
Also a wee bit more modern, and also imagining there's no missile crisis however Erik and Charles still had their falling out and Charles somehow ended up paralyzed.
...I'm working on a formulation of the backstory in case anyone asks. Just. Bear with me, through the plot holes and the discrepancies. I'm trying, people.
Another also, I LIKE EMMA. She could be a cool chicka if people let her be. So here she is.
"Hank, a few of the others are going to the grocer's to grab snacks, as I apparently lack a large selection of sugary nourishment, so if you'd like anything you'll need to talk to them. I believe Sean is spearheading the excursion."
Charles's voice carried over the lab before he came into view, so when Hank turned and saw him in the doorway it was barely a surprise. It was still, however, new to Hank whenever he realized that there was enough people living in the mansion to be able to refer to "a few" of them. When Hank had first moved in with his bag of clothes slung over his shoulder and a truck of his equipment unloading by a side entrance, he was one of four inhabitants.
As Charles and Erik had began "recruiting", one might say, the number of people living in the mansion grew from four to ten- including Charles, Erik, Raven, Sean, Darwin, Angel, Bobby, Ororo, Emma, and himself. But then the numbers had dwindled as Erik, Raven, and Angel left, and the Professor was a slight bit sadder than before. It took some getting used to. And although everyone knew that in the future there would be actual fights between both groups, for now, as both Erik and Charles got settled in their new, distant lives, there was peace.
Hank tilted his head as asked, "Don't you have a stash of dark chocolate hidden in the wine cellar?"
Charles's cheeks tinged pink and he smiled sheepishly as he moved into the room, weaving between tables in his mechanical wheelchair. "Yes, well," he said.
A silence passed between them, and the news on the television on the desk behind Charles flashed local headlines, none of them containing a sighting of a large, blue, furry man, to Hank's relief. Hank had been checking the news since he was a boy, but he had never been as rapidly aware of the news anchor as he was now, two weeks after the blonde boy had seen him in the garden. Hank refused to leave the mansion until he was absolutely sure there was no report. He wasn't going to put Charles and the others in danger.
"Darwin will be driving me over to visit Moira in a while, in case you need anything." he added.
Hank shook his head, turned back toward the television and said, "No, I'm all right."
"Well, have a wonderful evening, Hank. Don't forget about those plans for the bunker!" With that, Charles left the room, the sound of the whirring gears in Hank's ears until he was down the hall and the door of study swung shut behind him.
---
Dinner had been an interesting group affair, as always. Sean, Ororo, Bobby, and Emma had come back after two hours at the grocer’s, six bags of random snacks and meals between them. Hank had wandered into the kitchen after hearing their excited footsteps in the hallways, and Emma had animatedly shown him the two bags of meats they grabbed just for him. Darwin also came back after dropping Charles off at Moira’s for the night, sometime between Ororo accidently spilling orange juice on an antique rug, Emma freaking out over Charles’s possible reactions, Sean breaking a window after yelping when Bobby slipped ice cubes down his shirt, and Hank crushing two cups in his hands in the chaos. Darwin was on the floor laughing.
Needless to say, they weren’t perfect- but they certainly weren’t trying to be.
---
That night, Hank decided that it was safe enough to go back to the garden. Wrapped up in his grey hoodie and dark coat, long black pants and barefoot again (as it was difficult to shove his feet into any type of shoe anymore).
The weather wasn’t quite as bearable as last time, spring heating up during the daytime and warming the night air. The walk to the park was always free of others, almost completely desolate and void of people. The mansion was rather far from the park, which was placed closer to the edges of a suburban neighborhood, and those inhabitants were asleep by the time Hank closed the double doors of the mansion behind him, the voices and laughter of the others floating though the windows and into the yard.
His heart rate increased as he neared the arch and the hedges, but he pressed on, determined not to lose his garden. This time, when he rounded the corner, his eyes skittered past the flower beds and the lamp post, up the cobbled path to the bench. The bench, which was empty.
Thank God, he thought.
So slipped the coat from his shoulders and the hood from his head and sat down, just like last time, and his body took up more than half of the bench, just like last time, and Hank sunk deep into his thoughts, just like last time.
Except this time, he sensed a musky scent and heard footsteps against stone before it was too late. So Hank stood quickly, tugging his coat on. But his right arm stuck and a button latched onto the bench’s armrest, and suddenly Hank was breathing loudly and he couldn’t calm himself down enough to free the tangle of his arm that was twisted behind his back.
Then a gasp, and the footsteps stopped. The bones in Hank’s neck cracked when he swung ‘round to look at the boy, the blond boy in the white t-shirt and leather jacket, who was staring at his twisted form. His eyes slowly made their way over his body, took in the fur at his chest where the sweater was only halfway zipped up, and the immense size of his feet upon the cold stones. Hank’s hands began sweating as the boy’s eyes met his own.
Then, slowly, as if Hank were an animal easily spooked (not a far off assumption considering the night two weeks prior), the boy walked towards Hank until he was standing next to him, dwarfed under his shadow. His eyes intent as he untangled Hank’s coat from the bench, and his lips quirked when his pale hands brushed the fur of Hank’s wrist.
Suddenly, Hank felt very much like the awkward, gangly teenager he really was, under all the fur and extra muscle.
“I’m Alex,” he said, voice deep. And he looked at Hank with something akin to a smile that hadn’t been used very often. “Alex Summers.”
“Oh,” he said, “I’m Hank.”
Alex sat on the bench and looked at Hank expectantly, but Hank was confused. Was he not afraid? Hank certainly was. He was terrified of what this boy was capable of- he could call the police! or maybe they were already there, waiting with their guns drawn- and he glanced towards the entrance. When he drew back to look at Alex, he was sitting rigidly, seeming almost irritated and embarrassed by Hank’s hesitation.
So Hank sat down, figuring his fate was doomed either way. The bench didn’t offer much space for the two of them, and as a result Alex’s shoulder was pressed against his own. Hank could feel his eyes focused on his cheek. Then, Alex spoke again.
“So where are the rest of you?”
Hank’s nostrils flared as he swung ‘round to scowl at him- the fucking nerve, to even suggest that Hank would dare putting them in danger- and in a low rumble he hissed, “Excuse me?”
Alex didn’t look the least bit taken shaken by Hank’s sudden change in demeanor, although he did raise an eyebrow. “If I’m not the only freak around here, I figure you’d be the guy who knows where they all are.”
This surprised Hank, took him off guard. And he could only gape as his expression relaxed from the tense glare he held before. Was Alex really implying that he was a mutant himself? It was difficult to believe. Alex seemed to sense his apprehension but did not offer any proof, so Hank sputtered, “Y-you? You’re a…”
Alex was unresponsive, eyes growing hard, and suddenly the air felt charged with a dangerous type of energy. Hank’s heart was thumping in his chest and his fur was very near standing on end.
“I can’t show you.” he said, finally, voice hard, hands gripping his knees.
“Why not?”
“It’s too fucking dangerous, that’s why!”
Hank stayed silent. He examined the garden, peaceful around them as the warm wind rustled the leaves and the flowers, and Hank watched Alex’s hands as they slowly slackened their grip around his knees. Alex slumped against the bench.
“I’m sorry.” Alex said. Hank spared a glance in his direction, just out of the corner of his eye. His mouth twisted around the words, rushed and messy. “I don’t know how to explain it…It’s just like a fire that burns everything around me. I can’t-I can’t control it. You won’t understand.”
Hank understood control. The complete and utter lack of control, when his instincts take over and his senses engulf what little amount of control was left after the transformation. Hank used to have control. But Alex never did.
“And I’m so desperate that I’ve been waiting for you in this garden every goddamn night since I saw you. And I’m so tired and I’m hungry and…”
“And you think I can help?” Hank couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Fuck, I don’t know! You’re the only other person like this that I’ve ever seen! I can’t be around- I can’t trust- you don’t understand…”
“I-” he started, hesitating, and Alex tilted his head towards him, eyes bright. “I live at a school…for mutants. Well, uh, we’re working on making it into school. It’s…the Professor believes that we can live with humans, that it doesn’t always have to be us against them.”
“Is it difficult?” Alex said, voice soft and deep and pensive. In the quiet night, Hank could imagine he was someone else, with a strange boy in a garden in the middle of the night.
Hank untangled his fingers, which had been twisting in his lap, and placed his hands on his knees. “We’re all still learning to control ourselves and it’s hard, but…it’s worth it.”
A couple of minutes passed in silence. Hank wasn’t quite sure of what to do.
“I was in a foster home.” Hank, surprised, looked at Alex, who stared back. He didn’t look away.
“One night I watched a scary movie with my foster-brother because…because he was there. And I didn’t know…” he cleared his throat, said, “I had a nightmare. And…when I woke up, the entire second floor was on fire. I ran, and the whole thing burnt down. Everyone inside. Except me. And when they found me-when I was found, they blamed me.”
He didn’t know hat to say. Hank certainly was dangerous, but he was aware of it, and it wasn’t to the point where he could kill someone in his sleep.
Quite suddenly, Hank heard the voices of a giggling couple a dozen meters from the garden. He smelt alcohol and sweat and he jumped up to his feet. “I’ve gotta go,” he said. Alex tensed on the bench and his eyes grew hard. He opened his mouth, but Hank cut him off after he pulled his coat on, said, “Come on!”
“Where are we going?”
---
Sean was the first to look up from the two figures in the living room, and when he caught sight of Alex, hovering in the foyer behind Hank, he sat up straighter and said, “Well look what the cat dragged in!”
Emma whipped her head ‘round and her eyes grew into slits as Sean winced and added, “No pun intended.”
“Don’t worry about it. Look, I kind of found this guy and-”
“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean you ‘found a guy’?” Sean said, grinning.
“I-okay, he kind of found me at that park down on-”
“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean by ‘at the park’?”
“The one over by the-”
“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean-”
“Christ, shut up, Sean!” Emma said. She shoved Sean’s shoulder and he fell back onto the couch, laughing. She turned to look at Hank and although she was sitting stiffly against the couch, she was smiling brightly and her eyes were round and mirthful. “You were saying?”
“Look, I swear I’ll explain tomorrow, I just need a room for him.”
Emma jumped up and dragged Hank by the hand, over to where Alex was standing uncomfortably by a painting of Charles’ grandfather. His eyes slid down to their clasped hands and he straightened from a half-slouch when they reached him.
“I’m Emma,” she said, “and I’m a diamond. And a telepath.” Emma still wasn’t over the fact that she was able to introduce herself as a mutant. Unfortunately, she seemed to forget that most mutants didn’t share that luxury.
“What can you do?” she said, excited. Alex grew rather rigid, and Hank tapped Emma’s shoulder as lightly as he could. She swayed and stumbled slightly, throwing a questioning glance at Hank, and he said, “Sorry, uh, this is Alex, he isn't very used to other mutants. And, uhm, Alex, this is Emma. She keeps track of the rooms we’ve been clearing out, so.”
“Oh, right. I’ve got the perfect room!”
---
Hank hovered by the doorway as Emma fluttered around the room, pulling the curtains back and opening the windows. Alex was sat on the bed, hands clenching and unclenching in the covers while he watched her movements.
“There are pillows and blankets in the closet at the end of the hall, right next to the washroom, but if you need any help with anything don’t hesitate to call on Hank- he’s right across the hall,” Emma smiled, clapped her hands and said, “Okay, see you in the morning!”
She moved towards the door, stopped and brushed her hand down Hank’s arm, resting at the crease in his elbow as her eyes searched his. Be careful with him, her voice cut through the fog in his head, words crystal clear above the instincts that had been running through his system the entire night. Then she smiled briefly, turned, and exited the room, curls bouncing on her shoulders.
Alex was staring at Hank again, feet firm against the carpet, ready to jump up and leave, and that same expectant gaze that he held when he had wanted Hank to sit on the bench. It occurred to Hank that he probably wanted space. “Right. Uhm, the Professor is away for the night, but he’ll be back tomorrow, so…goodnight.”
He grabbed the doorknob, small and smooth in his rough hands, and with one last look at Alex whose eyes watched his every move, he swung the door shut.