Chapter Text
Hank could hear the boys laughing out in the kitchen from inside their room, a very distinct “this game sucks!” could be heard. They’re half tempted to walk out there and tell them to shut up, but that would mean waking up 2BDamned. Somehow, he fell asleep underneath Hank, wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck and head like a teddy bear. Hank’s not complaining, their head is directly over his heart; a soft thump thump thump could clearly be heard from the organ beneath his skin. Hank had to carefully place that dumb tablet to the floor beside their bed — if a mattress on the floor could be called a bed.
2BDamned’s face was fully exposed, meaning his scars are on perfect display. The left scar starts at his mouth and wraps over his nose; while the right scar curves down under his neck instead. It reminds them of those fish from that one show the boys have been watching — avatar or some nonsense. It’s been a while since his spouse has exposed his face like this, those bandages he used were gross and sit in the trash bundled up. Hank tried to scoot up to nuzzle his neck but that movement caused 2BDamned to stir. Damn it, don’t wake up, Hank thinks. It doesn’t matter in the end as the medic opens his eyes.
2BDamned groans as he stretches his arms out. Hank rolls off to sit next to him, he thinks he hears their pelvis crack. Damn, he’s not that old. 2BDamned stares at the wall ahead of the two of them, trying to get his brain to catch up with his surroundings.
“What time is it?” 2BDamned croaks out, voice fried from disuse. He rubs his eyes in an attempt to make himself more aware.
Hank squints at a fuzzy clock on the other side of the room,“...eh, 2:01 I think…You’ve been out for a wh—”
“I was supposed to contact the Fellows to set up an infiltration!” 2BDamned shrieks.
As 2BDamned tries to grab for his tablet, Hank leans forward to stop the medic by grabbing his chest from behind. From there, he lays his chin on 2BDamned’s shoulder and huffs.
2BDamned’s eyebrows furrow, “Wimbleton, let me go.”
“Just calling me Wimbleton hasn’t been a viable threat for a while now, Wimbleton,~” Hank says cooly, “Beau, you’re stressing yourself out. Take a damn break.”
“I don’t have time for a break. And I thought I told you not to call me that unless we’re alone.”
Hank leans back, pulling 2BDamned with them like an unruly teddy bear, “Unless you’re seein’ things, it’s just us in here.”
2BDamned grumbles as he relaxes against his partner. It’s not that 2BDamned isn’t grateful that someone remembers his name, it’s just weird to be called that. For the last 2 years, all anyone has called him is either 2BDamned or Doc; or Big Boss if that person is Sanford. In the years before that, his name was EG-1138. No one ever calls him Beau anymore, except for Hank. After they found his name in his office back when they first met, 2BDamned made sure to remove everything that had it. He remembers demanding Hank to never use it in public because of the Agency… and he remembers them asking if that’s what the B stands for in the middle of his breakdown. Fucker.
“Hmm. Well this is boring.” grumbled Hank.
“Go mingle with the boys then.”
“I think I hear a heart-to-heart happenin’ and I’m too busy to deal with their issues.”
2BDamned smiled, or smiled as best he can with his scars, “Yet when you hear them arguin’ anything Star Wars related, you rush out there like a little kid.”
Hank’s face scrunched up playfully as he said, “Star Wars is a masterpiece… ‘cept for the last ones.”
“Uh huh.” 2BDamned brings up a hand to smooth out the lines on his lover’s face, “I remember when I was a kid, my dad bought the disc for me as a birthday gift. When the Phantom Menace came out, I tried to make time to take him to the theater to watch it.
Hank grabs his hand and brings it to their lips before purring out, “What, you never told me about that.”
“You never asked,” the medic juts his head forward to accentuate his point. Hank promptly shoved him back. “There should be a picture somewhere of me dressed like a rebel pilot.”
Hank shot up, knocking 2BDamned off of him, “WHAT WHERE?!”
2BDamned, reeling from being shoved, says, “I don’t know!”
They both turned their heads towards 2BDamned’s stack of stuff — a collection of books, papers, random technology, and, most importantly, pictures. They both launched themselves off of the mattress to dash towards the stack. Thanks to Hank’s longer limbs — and frankly better reaction time — he gets to the stack first. The stack falls over during the search. 2BDamned is regretting bringing the picture up, Hank is gonna mess with him over this for weeks if they get to it first.
Unfortunately, Hank finds the picture in a random album. He slips it out of the protective slip with tender care. In the photo, a pre-teen Beau and his father stand next to each other. Beau has a rebel pilot’s helmet tucked in the crook of his arm, while his father wears his helmet. Hank slightly smiles at the photo.
“Cute family,” he says. 2BDamned scoots over to Hank’s side to look at the picture. The medic opens his mouth to speak before a loud “Motherfucker” ripples through the room. “Damn, can he fucking quiet down?”
“You act like an old man” deadpanned 2BDamned.
Hank looked offended, “I am old.”
“You’re 36!”
“So?”
The medic rolls his eyes, “ugh, nevermind.”
Hank chuckled at him. He turned his attention back to the picture in their hands, “I remember learning how to whistle like R2-D2. I got thrown out of a theater for whistling in the middle of a movie.”
2BDamned tilts his head, “can you still do it?”
Hank shakes his head no, “Nah, I lost it after a while. I’ll relearn it eventually… maybe.”
2BDamned hummed in acknowledgment as slipped the picture back into the album. Hank hunches over him — something they do often considering how large he is compared to everyone else — as he sighs, “After this is all over, we should remake that photo.”
2BDamned raises his eyebrows, “Just us or the boys, too?”
“Sure, if they live that long.”