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“Olle, it’s lunchtime. You want a sandwich?” Olle was in the corner, staring blankly at the wall. They were holding their Umbreon close, running fidgeting fingers over its soft fabric. They were obviously spaced out, Hank knew that feeling all too well. The mercenary slowly walked into the room, trying their best to not make too much noise. “Olle.” He placed a hand on the grunt’s shoulder, causing them to jolt in surprise. “Hey, it’s just me.”
“Oh…” Olle’s speech was slurred, eyes unfocused. “Hi, dad.” Their words were barely a mumble. They didn’t move for a while but shrugged after a few seconds. “Whadda need again?” Olle seemed to have forced themselves to speak at this point.
“Oh, nothing. You seem tired. You should sleep.”
Olle groaned and shook their head. “No…sleep.”
“Yes, sleep. You sound terrible.” Hank scooped up the small grunt in his arms, basically cradling the small humanoid. Olle curled into the other, giving a contented rumble. “Off to bed with you.” The contented rumble stopped immediately when Hank set them down on their bed. Olle looked up in disappointment as Hank tucked them in the best he could and started backing away from the bed.
Olle whined and held their arms up, obviously wanting to be picked up. “No, Olle you need to sleep.” Olle whined again, dragging it out for a few seconds for effect. “Ollever-” But how could he not pick up Olle? The mercenary picked up the little guy by the pits and held them close. Olle nuzzled their face into the other’s shoulder, resuming their contented rumbling. “Will you go to sleep if I hold you until you pass out?” No answer. “I’m taking that as a yes.”
A good hour passed, everytime Hank tried to put Olle down, they would wake up and start whining until Hank held them again. Now, the mercenary didn’t mind all that much, but they still needed to do stuff today. At least get an hour of exercise in. “Olle…Pumpkin, I need to do stuff before the others get back, can I put you down now?” Olle gave the other a look. The kind of look that says ‘go ahead, see what happens’. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Hank accepted the little one’s challenge. “Putting you down now and I’m not picking you back up.” It almost seemed as if Olle gave Hank a glare as they were plopped down on the bed. There was definite mutiny in those eyes.
Hank got up and walked out of the room, not noticing his tiny shadow following him. Olle followed the other into the designated weight room at the end of the hallway, making sure to be silent so Hank wouldn’t notice them. Olle found a nice spot in the corner, practically unnoticeable. Olle got bored after the first few minutes, but still quietly waited an hour and a half for the other to at least take a break. Olle was knocked out of their spaced out trance when Hank went to go sit down, stripping the athletic tape from his arms and assessing his red knuckles.
Hank was caught off guard when two small arms wrapped around his elbow as a tiny face buried itself into his arm. “Olle? You’re supposed to be asleep.” Olle’s response was an incoherent mumble as they held on tighter. “Ollever L. Wimbleton.” Hank tried to sound stern, but didn’t quite hit the mark. He was too tired for this shit. He didn’t have enough energy to be even the slightest bit mad. Also, babying Olle was a favorite pastime.
“Come here bub.” Hank picked up the little guy and set them on his lap. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Olle gave a happy chirp as Hank scratched either end of their jaw, the grunt’s head tilting upward from the contact. The mercenary's hands trailed down Olle’s jaw and picked back up to scratch their head near the nape of the neck. Olle leaned into the contact, their little fluffy tail wagging like mad. The grunt basically melted from the affection, happy little chirps and rumbles peppering the empty air.
“Aw, did you just want some affection pumpkin? My little pumpkin.” and there was the baby voice. Hank cooed as he showered the small grunt in nonsense praise, just for the sake of praise.
After around ten minutes? Who knows. The sound of the front door opening startled both of them. Olle immediately scrambled out of Hank’s grasp, brushing off their hoodie as they stood up. “We shall never speak of this again.” They scurried out of the room before the older mercenary could even process what happened.