TANK

27 (plot, fluff, SMUT)

I've calmed down, stomach settling as any lingering fear dissipates. I slightly shift under Tank, lifting my arms to drag my hands across his back in a soothing motion. I hesitate, but I know I have to ask the questions burning at the back of my mind. As though he notices exactly what I'm thinking, Tank lifts off and up, adjusting his clothes before lifting me into his arms.

He carries me back over to the old water tower and sits with his back against it. He manhandles me until I'm sitting in his lap. "Ask it." He says, not quite making eye contact with me.

"TJ?" I ask, the name stumbling out of my mouth before I can even give it a second thought. Tank tenses his hands on my hips, turning his head to look to the side. "Yeah. It's my initials. I went by TJ my whole life up until I moved, then I dropped it." He sighs. "Tank isn't a nickname. It's my actual name. My last name starts with J, so T dot J dot." He says, then clenches his jaw. "But I really don't like that name, so don't fucking use it." He says, sounding defensive.

I feel my stomach sink, looking at him so upset. I lean forward, pressing my face into his chest and hugging him tight. I feel his hands tighten on my hips for a moment, before he barely relaxes. "I'm sorry." I say, muffled by his shirt.

Tank sighs again, before finally fully relaxing under me and lifting his knees to bring me closer. "No, you have the right to ask. I'm being a dick." He says, voice sounding softer. He presses a kiss to the side of my face before he starts talking again, resting his chin on top of my head. "It's just touchy. I worked hard to shed the worst parts of my life. I don't want them to be seen by..." he falters, hands twitching on my hips, "The uh— the... the best parts." He finishes, quiet.

I hold a whine in my throat, burying my face deeper into his chest as my eyes start to burn. I try to steady myself, trembling in Tank's hands at the implications of what he just said. I drag in a deep breath, "I won't ask you to tell me," I start, twisting my hands in the fabric of his shirt, "But just know that I'd listen." I say.

Tank sighs again, "I hate talking about it because it doesn't even feel like it's mine to talk about anymore." He says, slowly starting to rub circles on my back, I think to calm himself more than to calm me.

"I already told you some of it but I really didn't want to get specific." He presses impossibly closer to me. "But, my father was... physically abusive. Visibly so." He sighs, "But he was buddies with a bunch of the cops in town because he was a game warden, so— no one said anything." I nod, knowing that I need to just listen. "Plus, he was... generally well liked, or at the very least pitied because my mom left him— not that I blame her for that. Just for leaving me." Tank tenses again, burying his face in my hair as I fight to steady my breathing.

"So, people turned a blind eye." He sighs again, letting his head fall back against the water tower with a thump as my hands dig into his back. I look up to see he has his eyes closed. I watch him swallow before he starts speaking again. "And I had classmates like Sam, the kids of people who knew my dad: got told by their folks I was a problem with serious anger issues. That general reputation followed me through school." He says, letting his head fall back forward.

Tank catches me staring, and melts into a soft smile that guts me. "So I said fuck it. And I graduated and got the fuck out." He says. I nod, eyes flicking between my lap and being able to look at him, wilting under his gaze. He addresses me again, "I was kind of afraid something like this might happen if we came home, honestly. I just— I didn't expect it would happen in your town too. I guess they are super close, though." He says.

I find myself frozen, completely at a loss for anything I could say to him that would feel... right. "I'm... so sorry. I know that doesn't make anything better but..." I whine as he presses me closer to him. "It's okay. Thank you baby." He says, voice soft.