the twink in black tights - hank x connor

Preparation

SUMMARY: Hank gets home from work and mentally prepares himself for whatever the hell is going to happen at the fucking yoga class.

Hank swore the day passed by two times slower than it usually would. He arrived at work at around 8 AM. Meeting Connor definitely got him back up to par at work, too. He had been arriving a lot earlier, mainly because he woke up earlier to catch Connor with slight bed-head hair, always a sight. He ignored a snide comment from Reed as he sat in his desk and began to work with great acquiescence.

Hours passed by like days, and by the time it was 4 PM, Hank was fucking out of there. He had gotten enough work done and was extremely glad to be out of that building. He got into his car, which he briefly considered cleaning but wanted to get to Connor's fucking yoga place early for "private lessons", so he set a mental note to clean his car another day. Not a Wednesday or a Saturday, anyway. He shifted into reverse, backing out of the parking lot, and then shifted into drive. He managed to calm himself down on the ride home from the irritation of work that day, blasting heavy metal out of his speakers with little consideration for those driving around him.

He waited about 20 fucking hours at a red light before being able to continue his journey home, since the big lump of fur needed food and water. And the big lump of fur probably needed to take a shit. He pulled onto his street, grateful to finally be home even though he knew he would be setting out again for the private lessons. Private lessons, those which he had not let himself think about for more than five minutes at work. He heard a 'Boof!' and knew Sumo must have seen him through a window or heard his car. He rolled his eyes and unlocked his door, trying not to get attacked by Sumo as he walked into his house. He closed the door behind him and made his way to the kitchen to get Sumo's food. He poured the dog some food and made sure he still had water (he did) and decided to take the dog for a walk for a change. He put on Sumo's old collar- which didn't fit him very well, but it worked- and clipped the leash to it. They could both use the exercise.

He walked through the cool air, finding that it grounded him quite a bit. He collected himself, not at all acknowledging the dog, but thinking about Connor. A lot of his mind nowadays was filled with thoughts of Connor, whether he liked it or not. He was thinking about the "private yoga lessons" and how much he'd probably frustrate Connor with how not flexible and absolutely not fit he is. As much as he didn't want to upset Connor... frustrated Connor sounds hot.

Oh god, did he really just think that?

He shook his head as if it'd clear it, though thoughts still swarmed in his mind. He noticed Sumo slow his pace, and he knew the dog was getting tired. He took this as a sign to turn back around, back towards the house. He felt almost guilty- he hadn't walked poor Sumo in a while. He just never felt up to leaving the house. Sumo's pace sped up when he realized that they were going back home; the dog sure was eager to sleep, Hank supposed, laughing to himself.

After a few minutes of strangely peaceful walking, he arrived back at his home, hardly getting the door open before Sumo bounded back inside. Hank hung his coat up and heaved a sigh.

He walked to his bathroom after watching Sumo flop down onto the ground in his usual spot near the television. He grabbed a hair-tie from his ex-wife's old pack that he still had. He knew these could be useful at one point. With a pang, he remembered making a tiny ponytail in Cole's hair when they had been about to get it cut. It wasn't nearly as long as Hank's was now, but it still hurt to remember. Bittersweet, most memories were. He shooed the memory away. Shit like that was not gonna ruin his evening.

Hank pulled on an old T-shirt that was actually rather big on him, and he supposed his half-assed attempt at dieting was somewhat working. He looked himself up and down in the mirror, and for once he didn't feel as strong of self-loathing as he usually would. He was relatively well-groomed and he had put in his ear crawlers, just to gauge Connor's reaction to the copious amount of piercings on his ears. It was only 4:12 when he took a minute to mentally prepare himself for whatever the fuck would happen in that room.

But he would soon find that nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.