the twink in black tights - hank x connor

The Call

SUMMARY: Hank, after getting home from work, calls Connor. Connor tells Hank when to show up, and Hank realizes he has no idea what he's gotten himself into.

Work was a drag that day, every hour felt like ten as he put up with desk duty. That was his fault for punching Reed, but he still wasn't happy about it. Hank got out the minute he could, grabbing a salad- yes, a goddamn salad- from the Chicken Feed before making his way home.

After arriving home, and after a great deal of stalling- he even shaved a bit- Hank called Connor. He felt a strange pit in his stomach and suddenly he wished he'd planned what he was going to say. It rang for a few moments before somebody, presumably (hopefully) Connor picked up.

"Hello?" Hank immediately recognized the sweet voice of Connor.

"Uh, hi." He said, and then realizing Connor probably had no idea who was calling-

"Hank!" The tone of Connor's voice had brightened and Hank could hear the excitement in his voice. He smiled.

"Yep." He simply said, hoping Connor couldn't tell he was smiling. Several seconds passed as Hank desperately wracked his brain to remember why he'd called in the first place, feeling relief when he finally does. Seconds feel like minutes before he spoke again. "I'm calling about, uh, our cut off conversation this mornin'." He elaborated, making a gesture with his hand as if Connor could see him.

"Oh, yeah!" Connor had giggled a little again, and Hank felt- physically felt his heart clench. That can't be good. He allowed himself to think it was heartburn from the food he had earlier. It was a safe assumption, knowing the Chicken Feed wasn't exactly reputable for being healthy.

"Yeah, I'll text you the address right now, as well as my own for the uh..." He trailed off. "Private lessons." He finished and Hank hoped he was imagining the shift of his tone. He could feel his face burning up as thoughts of what "private lessons" could entail invaded his brain unwarranted.

Hank received two addresses. He found it safe to assume the one with the heart next to it was Connor's place and he smiled slightly at that.

"And, uh, when?" Hank asked. He didn't know why, but he felt stupid.

"I just thought of a better idea: private lessons in the actual building. Before and after classes, because the room is always reserved for me..." Connor was rambling, and Hank was listening with a smile. Despite what Connor said, he didn't delete the text message with his own address.

"Okay, dork, but you didn't answer my question. When?" Hank asked again, almost certain the smile he has is audible through his words.

"Oh, oops! I have classes on Wednesdays and Saturdays." He said sweetly. Hank had never been happier about it being a Tuesday ever. "The classes are from 5 to 6:30," Connor added. Hank was nodding as though Connor was in front of him and typing all of this in the notepad app.

"And the, uh, private lessons?" Hank asked, face warm with the blood that had rushed into it, not allowing his brain to go down that road again.

"You can check my room before classes, I'm usually there from 4 to 6:30," Connor told him cheerily. Hank added all of this to the note he had, that he had titled "Yoga with dork".

"So, you sure that this is all free?" Hank asked, knowing he could pay if Connor wanted him to. He didn't want Connor to regret offering all this for free. He felt guilty enough having the thoughts he had about the brunette, which he was slowly starting to accept, as of late.

"Of course, Hank." Connor immediately reassured. His voice was sweet as always, but there was something underlying in his tone that Hank couldn't quite name. Some detective he was.

"Okay," Hank said, and he hated the awkward silence that hung in the air afterward. "So, uh, see you tomorrow?" He asked, hating how awkward he sounded as the words left his mouth.

"Yes." Connor simply said. He sounded as though his mind was elsewhere.

"Good night, Connor," Hank said, but before he could hang up, Connor spoke.

"Good night, Lieutenant~," Connor said sweetly. Hank's face burned. Connor had hung up but Hank had barely noticed. His head was swimming and as he just replayed the sound of Connor saying his rank like that in his head, he realized he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Normally, he would be scared, to some degree. Hank Anderson, though he'd never admit it to anyone else aside from himself, was entirely a coward. And yet, he found that he could hardly wait to see Connor tomorrow and do some fucking yoga. What the fuck was his life turning into?