Restless (2/2)echo_fangirlDecember 28 2011, 12:52:36 UTC
"I'll refill it for you in a minute. And get a towel for the spill." Hank tries a smile, and if Charles had thought the claws were frightening he clearly has no words to describe for the curl of Hank's lip, or the sharp, deadly looking teeth which hide behind it. But then Charles sees Hank's eyes, and they're so nervous, so concerned, so damned gentle, that Charles can't help but laugh at the ambiguity.
He laughs quietly, and then he laughs louder, and then he's gasping for air while Hank watches with growing concern.
There's a large hand on his back, firm but feather light, rubbing up and down slowly and rhythmically. Charles knows there are tears in his eyes from laughing, but then they are just tears and he can't remember what was so funny. He is too tired, and even though they are reducing his dependence on the powerful drugs that manage his pain levels, there are still far too many in his system to allow him to think clearly. He leans back into the large, warm hand, and its associated arm curls just enough to pull him into a loose embrace.
Even through all the soft, downy padding, Charles can feel how stiffly Hank is sitting, how cautious the pats to his back are. He opens his mind just a little, and senses how unfamiliar this level of physical closeness is to Hank. Underneath that layer of awkwardness though, there is a protectiveness so fierce that it almost takes Charles a moment to put a name to it. Deeper still, there is loyalty, and concern, and tenderness.
Charles lets himself fall into those feelings, lets them encompass his mind in the same way that Hank's larger body encompasses Charles' own, smaller form as they sit there on the floor.
He makes no comment when Hank starts very slowly rocking the two of them.
He's not sure how much time passes, but he he knows that he is very nearly falling asleep right there in Hank's arms when he feels the rumble of Hank speaking.
"We should probably get you back into bed." He says. Charles nods.
"I can do it." Charles answers, shifting in place but making no other indication of movement.
"Okay," Hank answers, loosening his grip to allow Charles greater movement.
Charles doesn't move.
After a few minutes Hank takes the initiative and scoops one enormous arm under Charles' unresisting legs. He wraps the other around Charles' waist, ever careful as his hands skirt near the scar on his lower back, and hoists Charles up onto the bed in a single movement.
Hank goes to withdraw, and like a child reaching for his teddy bear Charles grasps at a tuft of Hank's hair. Hank looks at Charles' hand with confusion, and Charles feels his face flush red.
Hank crouches by the bed so that they share an eye level, and places Charles' hand between his own. Charles takes a moment to marvel at how completely his own pale skin is engulfed by Hank's bright blue.
"Charles?" Hank asks. Charles looks away.
"I'm so sorry Hank. It's really terribly late, you must be tired. I've been keeping you from your sleep."
Hank leans back on his haunches, his head tilting to the side in a thoughtful mannerism which has carried over from the pale, skinny young man Charles had recruited from the CIA not so long ago.
"It's okay, I don't really need as much sleep as I used to. Not since... My change." This time Hank is the one to look away, but then he looks back, and he's worrying at his lower lip with teeth so sharp that Charles is briefly concerned that he might draw blood. "Professor, would you like me to stay here for a little while tonight?"
"I... I don't want to put you out, Hank. It's late, and the house gets so cold at night."
Hank continues to twist his lip between his teeth for another few seconds before he comes to a conclusion. He picks up the drinking glass from the bench where he had placed it earlier.
"I'll just go fill this up, then I'll come back and I'll stay until you fall asleep. Is that okay Professor?"
Charles answers with a small, relieved smile. "Please, Hank, call me Charles. 'Professor' makes me feel terribly old."
"Charles." Hank confirms, then with a fleeting brush of fur on the back of Charles' hands, Hank is lumbering off down to the kitchen with the drinking glass.
Re: Restless (2/2)echo_fangirlDecember 28 2011, 14:04:51 UTC
Thank you! They're such lovely boys, aren't they? :)
Charles/Hank is my not-very-secret-at-all OTP!
It's one of the hardest OTPs I've ever had though, because no one writes for them! There doesn't seem to be a lot of reader interest either, which is a terrible shame. But yes, I am hoping to write some more stuff for them eventually.
Re: Restless (2/2)echo_fangirlDecember 28 2011, 21:43:38 UTC
OP here. This is just gorgeous, and exactly the sort of thing I was hoping for. I love how simple and realistic the breaking point is, and the way you write them as tentative with one another (the stuff about Hank being unused to physical contact) and then finding comfort together was warm and lovely. I also really liked the understated conversation between them at the end. Thank you so much for filling my prompt!
"I'll refill it for you in a minute. And get a towel for the spill." Hank tries a smile, and if Charles had thought the claws were frightening he clearly has no words to describe for the curl of Hank's lip, or the sharp, deadly looking teeth which hide behind it. But then Charles sees Hank's eyes, and they're so nervous, so concerned, so damned gentle, that Charles can't help but laugh at the ambiguity.
He laughs quietly, and then he laughs louder, and then he's gasping for air while Hank watches with growing concern.
There's a large hand on his back, firm but feather light, rubbing up and down slowly and rhythmically. Charles knows there are tears in his eyes from laughing, but then they are just tears and he can't remember what was so funny. He is too tired, and even though they are reducing his dependence on the powerful drugs that manage his pain levels, there are still far too many in his system to allow him to think clearly. He leans back into the large, warm hand, and its associated arm curls just enough to pull him into a loose embrace.
Even through all the soft, downy padding, Charles can feel how stiffly Hank is sitting, how cautious the pats to his back are. He opens his mind just a little, and senses how unfamiliar this level of physical closeness is to Hank. Underneath that layer of awkwardness though, there is a protectiveness so fierce that it almost takes Charles a moment to put a name to it. Deeper still, there is loyalty, and concern, and tenderness.
Charles lets himself fall into those feelings, lets them encompass his mind in the same way that Hank's larger body encompasses Charles' own, smaller form as they sit there on the floor.
He makes no comment when Hank starts very slowly rocking the two of them.
He's not sure how much time passes, but he he knows that he is very nearly falling asleep right there in Hank's arms when he feels the rumble of Hank speaking.
"We should probably get you back into bed." He says. Charles nods.
"I can do it." Charles answers, shifting in place but making no other indication of movement.
"Okay," Hank answers, loosening his grip to allow Charles greater movement.
Charles doesn't move.
After a few minutes Hank takes the initiative and scoops one enormous arm under Charles' unresisting legs. He wraps the other around Charles' waist, ever careful as his hands skirt near the scar on his lower back, and hoists Charles up onto the bed in a single movement.
Hank goes to withdraw, and like a child reaching for his teddy bear Charles grasps at a tuft of Hank's hair. Hank looks at Charles' hand with confusion, and Charles feels his face flush red.
Hank crouches by the bed so that they share an eye level, and places Charles' hand between his own. Charles takes a moment to marvel at how completely his own pale skin is engulfed by Hank's bright blue.
"Charles?" Hank asks. Charles looks away.
"I'm so sorry Hank. It's really terribly late, you must be tired. I've been keeping you from your sleep."
Hank leans back on his haunches, his head tilting to the side in a thoughtful mannerism which has carried over from the pale, skinny young man Charles had recruited from the CIA not so long ago.
"It's okay, I don't really need as much sleep as I used to. Not since... My change." This time Hank is the one to look away, but then he looks back, and he's worrying at his lower lip with teeth so sharp that Charles is briefly concerned that he might draw blood. "Professor, would you like me to stay here for a little while tonight?"
"I... I don't want to put you out, Hank. It's late, and the house gets so cold at night."
Hank continues to twist his lip between his teeth for another few seconds before he comes to a conclusion. He picks up the drinking glass from the bench where he had placed it earlier.
"I'll just go fill this up, then I'll come back and I'll stay until you fall asleep. Is that okay Professor?"
Charles answers with a small, relieved smile. "Please, Hank, call me Charles. 'Professor' makes me feel terribly old."
"Charles." Hank confirms, then with a fleeting brush of fur on the back of Charles' hands, Hank is lumbering off down to the kitchen with the drinking glass.
Charles is asleep before Hank gets back.
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Would you ever be up to writing some Charles/Hank? I love the way you write them and they're my super sekkrit OTP. :-)
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Charles/Hank is my not-very-secret-at-all OTP!
It's one of the hardest OTPs I've ever had though, because no one writes for them! There doesn't seem to be a lot of reader interest either, which is a terrible shame. But yes, I am hoping to write some more stuff for them eventually.
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