Work Text:
“No,” Connor breathes, giving the camera a little desperate shake, as if that'll make the footage magically appear. “No, no, no, fuck!” he spits, head spinning as his perfectly laid plans all fall apart. He can't finish the video. He just wasted two hours on this, he hasn't even started editing yet, it would be taking all night even if he hadn't somehow lost all this footage to the goddamn void.
“Fucking shit!” he yells, and forces himself to not smash the camera against the wall, but sets it down calmly instead before grabbing a pillow to scream into.
“Are you okay, honey?” Hank calls from the other room, and he's not. Holy shit, is he ever not.
“No!”
Hank's head pokes into the studio, there's a smudge of flour on his cheek. He's making homemade pizza for dinner, and probably just set the dough to rise. Connor wishes his mouth didn't feel like ash right now. He loves Hank's pizza.
“What's wrong?”
“I just lost the last two hours of work. I can't finish the video,” he says sadly, pushing his palms into his eyeballs. He's just had the worst string of bad luck this past month. Usually he has a couple of backup videos he can post in a pinch, but right now he has nothing. He has two videos that are filmed but completely unedited and would take a few days each to finish, and then this, which was halfway done before he realized he forgot a whole damn segment and had to shoot it today, in the hopes that he could finish the edit and upload before midnight.
But he just can't. There's no way. He has nothing to post.
He knows it won't be the end of the world if he posts late, but he hates doing it, hates posting apologies and explanations, hates how it causes a massive hit to the merciless Youtube algorithm if he doesn't post absolutely regularly, which in turn will mean a hit to his income for possibly months.
They won't starve or miss bills, Hank's got a job too, they'll be fine. But the uncertainty of it breaks Connor a little bit inside.
“Have you checked the-”
“Yes! I've checked every single possible-” Connor snaps, but then forces it down. Hank doesn't deserve his anger, it's not him Connor is angry at anyway. It's the universe. “I'm sorry,” he says, deflating, and Hank comes in to sit down on the damn artsy sofa he bought for his set.
“Hey, it's okay,” Hank murmurs, pulling him in for a hug. “Anything I can do?”
Connor clings to him, pulling in a deep breath of his familiar scent, and shakes his head. “Not unless you can stop time or pull a video out of a hat.”
Hank strokes his back with a sigh. “I don't have magic, but. A suggestion, maybe?”
“Sure. Can't hurt,” Connor says morosely into Hank's shoulder.
“What about a boyfriend reveal video? That shouldn't take too long to shoot and edit, right?”
Connor freezes, and pulls away from Hank to look him in the eye. “But... you said you didn't-”
“I said I wasn't sure. That I needed to think about it. And, well. I thought about it. I wasn't planning on doing it at short notice like this, but. Hey, if it helps.”
He sounds serious, but they've talked about this before, and Hank has been reluctant to put his face on video for a multitude of reasons. At first it was because he didn't know what it was all about, then it was out of misunderstood concern for Connor's image, and after that it was mostly just unease about making himself a public figure.
In fairness, he has loosened up about it since they first discussed it. He's allowed bits of himself to appear in Connor's livestreams, an arm here, a shadow there, his voice a few times, and he's definitely less nervous now about accidentally drifting in front of the camera if he happens to be in the room when Connor is streaming.
But this is the first time he's said that he's okay with putting his entire face and body and life in a video.
“Are you sure? There's going to be a lot of comments,” Connor warns, taking hold of both of his hands. It would solve all of his problems right now, but he's not going risk making Hank uncomfortable just to save his own ass.
“Yeah, well, I won't read 'em anyway. And you keep saying your viewers are nice.”
“Yes, but there are assholes everywhere.”
Hank huffs. “Don't I know it. But you'll deal with those. I trust you. And if something uncomfortable does come of it? Well, then we'll weather that too. I wanna be... you know. With you.”
“You are.”
“I know, but. I kinda want the world to know, now,” he says, eyes down like he's not sure he's allowed to say it out loud, and Connor has to kiss him.
“If you're absolutely sure,” he says, pressing another kiss to Hank's lips.
“I am. Should I change?” he asks, looking down at his usual t-shirt and jeans combo, and Connor brushes at the flour on his cheek with a thumb.
“Only if you want to. But you should clean your face.”
“Ah, christ,” he says. “Right, I'll go freshen up, and you get shit ready in here, okay?”
“Okay,” Connor says, holding onto his hand until they part, and watching Hank all the way down the hall to the bathroom.
He's had a video like this in the back of his mind for over a year. He and Hank have been together for almost three years now, with Connor being open about the fact that he's taken but otherwise just asked people to be respectful. It hasn't taken that much effort, people seemed overwhelmingly happy for him, only a few dickheads expressing negativity. Not to mention the keysmashing and shrieking with excitement and delight the few times Hank has let even the slightest hint of himself show in Connor's streams. A lot of people will lose their damn minds over seeing Hank, that's not even in question. How Hank will deal with all the attention, positive or negative, remains to be seen.
Whatever the case, Hank seems sure enough about it now, and as long as he keeps his f-bombs to a minimum then editing shouldn't take more than a couple of hours for a video like this. So it might just all work out.
As he's picking up his tripod he looks at it and then impulsively reconsiders. Doing it in here would ensure the best quality and lighting. But...
He sets his jaw, and starts picking up things to go to the kitchen.
It's slightly messy out here, but clean enough. There's enough afternoon light coming through the main window that he could probably go without more, but he sets up a few more lights anyway.
Hank comes back, having apparently decided to change his shirt as well, now wearing a very lovely short-sleeved button-up over a dark t-shirt, that he definitely knows Connor loves on him.
“Oh, we're doing it in here?”
“Yes. I thought perhaps we could finish the pizza together while filming. It's...” he trails off, considering how to put this so Hank won't feel belittled or anything.
Hank, of course, is so damn smart, which is a huge part of why Connor loves him. “Lemme guess, something to do with my hands so I don't feel like a lug, sitting there?”
Connor can't help his relieved smile that Hank understands. “Yes. I want you to feel as comfortable about this as possible. Besides, cooking together is romantic, the fans will love it.”
“Right,” Hank says, and then snorts. “Just please don't make a cooking series. It'll just be me cooking and you burning the house down.”
It's true, Connor can basically burn water. Putting toppings on pizza is already stretching his limit. “That would probably be very popular.”
“Please don't,” Hank says, checking the dough. “I'll start making the sauce while you set up.”
“Alright. As soon as you're done, we start filming.”
“Cool,” Hank says, sounding a little strained, but still determined, and as he puts together the simple sauce he seems to settle into it, even smiling at Connor as he grumbles about the stupid light bracket.
Setting up doesn't take that long, and while the dough finishes rising, Connor does some sound checks and also double and triple checks that the damn camera actually films what he tells it to and doesn't somehow eat that as well.
“Right, I think that's all I can do. Are you ready?” he asks Hank, just as he's turning off the burner under the sauce.
He takes a deep breath and checks his clothes for stains, but nods. “Yeah. Let's do it.”
“Good. You just stay over there, and I'll call you in when I've done the intro, okay?”
“Got it.”
With nothing else to prep, Connor turns on the camera, makes sure everything is running as it should and then starts the video.
“Hi everyone! You might have noticed we're somewhere different today. Welcome to the kitchen! I'm barely allowed in here, honestly, this is all Hank's domain. And, speaking of Hank...” he moves close to the camera, acting as if he's sharing a secret. “I need to be honest with you all. This wasn't the video I was going to post today. But the universe clearly hates me and everything went wrong, so that video will be next week. So instead, I'm going to be finally doing what you've all been screaming at me to do for the past year at least. This is why we've come to the distant lands of the kitchen. We've come in search of a mythical creature. A magnificent beast-”
Hank snorts out of frame.
“-that only very few have been lucky enough to see. But, today, with a little luck, we might be able to coax it out.”
“Make me sound more like a sasquatch, why don't ya.”
Connor wasn't planning on Hank's commentary, but he secretly rejoices in it, because it tells him that Hank feels at least marginally comfortable, and the fans will absolutely fall in love with Hank if they get to see him so close to his real self, Connor just knows it.
“Anyway, I'm very happy to finally introduce to you all: Hank. My boyfriend.”
He gestures to Hank who steps into frame with a little wave.
“Hi,” he says, eyes clearly on the viewfinder, so Connor guides him a little closer by the arm, and tries to distract him from seeing himself.
“So, we're going to be making a pizza today, because that's the only thing I'm allowed to help with.”
“For good reason.”
“For good reason,” Connor echoes, and gestures to the bowl of dough. “Let's get started, and I'll ask you some questions, okay?”
“Okay.” Hank gets the bowl and Connor takes out the rolling pin while Hank dusts the table with flour.
“Oh shit, I think I got some on the camera.”
Connor checks it, and nothing hit the lens, so they're good. “It's fine, don't worry about it.” He'll be cutting out some things either way, but Hank's little outburst reminds him of something.
“Oh, but please keep the profanity to a minimum. Keeps my editing hours low.”
“It's like you don't even want them to know me,” Hank grumbles, but takes the rolling pin with a grin. “I'll try my best.”
“Thank you.”
As Hank starts rolling out the dough, Connor takes out his phone with a few questions on it, just to have it in case he needs it.
“So, Hank, why don't you tell them how we met?”
“Do I need to, like, look at the lens?”
“Only if you want to.”
“Okay, well, it ain't even that interesting. Just met at a bar.”
Connor rolls his eyes, getting a few toppings out of the fridge. “Yes, but that wasn't the end of it. Was it now.”
“Look, I still don't know how I was supposed to know-”
“He thought we were casual,” Connor tells the camera, with a comical face of outrage. “For a month.”
Hank throws up his hands. “Hey, it's not like you said anything either, alright? We were both the asses of assuming.” It's a comfortable and familiar argument, and Hank smiles as he goes back to rolling the dough and getting a pan to put it in.
“So there I was, wishing him a happy one month anniversary, and you said...?”
Hank sighs, looking heavenward. “I said... anniversary of what.”
“Indeed you did. Which then begs the question... why do you agree on when our anniversary is?”
“Because,” Hank says with another sigh, and Connor grins, because he loves coaxing this story out of Hank. “Because I prefer having dated you a month longer than a month shorter. Okay?”
“Thank you,” Connor says, ducking in to press a quick kiss to Hank's cheek.
“If I'd known this video would be drag Hank for half an hour I wouldn't have signed up.”
Connor snorts. “If this video ends up any longer than ten minutes I'll eat my shoes.”
“Gotta be better than your damn olives,” Hank mutters, as Connor puts them on the table.
“Only on my half,” Connor points out and gets a cutting board while Hank finishes putting the dough in the pan and starts putting sauce on it.
“Thank god.”
“Let's move on. Why don't you tell everybody some basics about yourself?”
Hank shrugs, taking the cutting board Connor hands him for his own toppings. “Sure. I'm 54, six foot two, weight none of your business.”
Connor snorts. “Fair enough. You're free to say no comment to any of this, of course.”
“I know. And if you ask about the right things, then I will.”
“Good. How about what you do for work?”
“Right,” Hank says, popping a slice of pepperoni in his mouth before slicing more. “I'm a social worker. I was actually a cop for like five years, but man. For all that protect and serve nonsense we sure weren't doing a lot of either. And seeing just how many people got arrested when they really just needed some damn help I decided to change my course.”
He carefully places his pepperoni on the side of the pizza closest to him, and moves on to chopping mushrooms. “Went back to school, worked my way through, which was a fu- sorry, a big damn hassle. My parents helped me get through the academy, they weren't wild about funding another romp through the educational system for me. But it was worth it, been very happy with that choice.”
“Even though you complain about your job every single day-”
“Hey, I complain about the system. Not the work. Okay?” He points a finger at the camera. “Don't listen to any of his slander. If social services were fully funded and staffed I would have zero complaints. Vote democrat, alright?”
Connor winces, mostly for show, but they are getting into volatile territory. “Oh boy, let's not get political, please. Do you want the comment section to catch fire?”
“Maybe. Might be a good cleansing burn,” Hank mutters, and Connor elbows him. “Alright, alright, I'll behave. Anything else your adoring fans want to know?”
“Literally anything about Sumo, and you're an instant hit.”
Hank grins, finishes putting his mushrooms on the pizza, and takes out his next item. “Speaking of which, where is he? He's usually underfoot the second I bring out the pepperoni.”
“I think he's weirded out by the camera things,” Connor says, snatching a slice of the chicken breast Hank is cutting. “Maybe he'll make an appearance for a snack.”
“God, and you say I spoil him, you filthy hypocrite.”
Connor shrugs, and pretends to be above it all. “It's for work, and, thus, important.”
“Riiight,” Hank murmurs behind his beard as Connor coaxes Sumo into the kitchen, filming with his phone. After a cautious sniff at the camera tripod he does venture in, and is rewarded with the slice of chicken. Connor pets and praises him, getting all the dog footage people could want, and Sumo ends up flopping over on his back for belly rubs, as he always does, tongue lolling out as he pants happily.
“So tell everyone about this big lug.”
“Oh, right, well. I wasn't planning on getting a pet, least of all a dog as big as a house. But then I was doing a house call one day, this poor lady alone with five kids, doing real damn well, all things considered. I helped her get some shit- uh, some things sorted out, and she was so grateful. I'm tellin' ya, people just need the tiniest bit of kindness, and it makes a world of difference. Anyway, so her cousin breeds saint bernards, and out of some mistaken idea of kindness had given this incredibly overworked and financially struggling women a fucking pupp– sorry, I know I keep doing it. Anyway, five kids, ages two to eleven, and then suddenly a huge goddamn dog too. She didn't wanna sell it, though she probably could, they go for a lot, usually. But she didn't wanna tell her cousin that she sold the fluff ball for a quick buck, so she basically handed him to me and asked – or more like begged – me to take him home.”
“And you're a softie, so you did.”
“Damn right I did. Like you wouldn't have?”
“I'm definitely not claiming I would have done any different.”
“So yeah, I took him home. Had to take three days off work to start training him to be alone and not piss everywhere. The lady claimed he was house trained, and maybe he was, but moving in with me clearly set him back a ways. But we worked it out, and despite the kids naming him Sumo, this big fluffy coward couldn't fight a housefly.”
“Considering he just let a camera tripod intimidate him out of one of his favorite snacks, I'd say that secret is already out,” Connor says with a snort, getting up after a last pat to Sumo's belly. “Because I know the viewers are going to ask, how did the kids cope with you basically stealing their puppy?”
Hank rolls his eyes, and pushes the cutting board of chicken over to Connor to put on both sides of the pizza, while he brings out some red bell pepper and ham. “Look, they had him while he was his tiniest and cutest. By the time I got him he was basically a teenager, all limbs and drool, and while the oldest kid was a little sad to see him go, I think they all pretty much had their fill of him. I even offered that they could come see him if they missed him, but I never heard from them, so I think it was all for the best.”
Having overcome his fear of the camera, Sumo comes up to Hank and bumps his nose against him, and Hank smiles down at him. “Oh now you wanna suck up to me, huh?”
Sumo just pants, and Connor can just see the top of his head over the edge of the table when he checks the viewfinder. It makes for an adorable view, and he makes a note to keep it in at all costs.
“Alright, alright,” Hank says, slicing off a tiny strip of ham for Sumo. “There. Spoiled rotten, as usual.”
“As is only right and proper,” Connor says, and wipes his hands after he's done with the chicken. “Do we have any broccoli left?”
“Should be some, yeah,” Hank says, entirely focused on his pizza. Connor can't tell if it's because he's trying very hard to ignore the camera, or because he's actually comfortable with it.
“So, uh. Anything else?” he asks awkwardly, as Connor is getting the broccoli out of the fridge, so clearly he's just making a good show of it.
“Maybe tell people how you feel about my job and dealing with that whole thing. Considering how reluctant you've been about this, maybe it would be good to know what made you change your mind?”
Hank nods and sighs. “Well, I'm an old fart, all of this Youtube stuff seems so advanced, it feels like I can't keep up a lot of the time. But I like the topics, and I watch all your videos,” he says, offering a soft smile. Connor already knows, but it always makes him happy to hear. He's told Hank many times that he doesn't have to, but even videos on subjects Hank isn't interested in, he claims to watch anyway. “Might not watch this one, though. Not sure I can handle seeing myself on screen. Always makes me feel weird.”
“That's fair. What made you want to do it, then?” Connor asks, cutting up the last, sad bit of broccoli that was fresh a week ago, but is now wilted and soft.
“Well. I know a lot of people have been asking. I've seen a few of the comments and chat messages when I've poked my nose in while you're streaming. And if people are so desperate to get to know me after just seeing, like, my arm or hear my voice, then I figure at least a few people are gonna be cool with it.”
“They're going to love you,” Connor insists, then sighing at the sad state of his pizza. “God, this is just depressing.”
“That's what you get for allowing satan's hemorrhoids into your life.”
Connor elbows him with a grin. “Olives are perfectly delicious.”
Hank grimaces, and spreads his last items on his side. “Says you. Want some chili? We only have powdered right now, though.”
“Sure. Any other thoughts on me?” Connor asks, batting his eyelashes, and Hank tosses the chili shaker at him, forcing him to stop making eyes and catch it.
“Fishing for compliments, huh?”
“Always.”
“Well, let's see. You're young, gorgeous, smart, hard working. A big ol' nerd, got a thing for older men, which... you know, lucky for me,” he says with a wink in Connor's direction, and maybe he should be in a place now, after three years, where it doesn't make him feel hot, but it does, and he hopes his blush isn't too obvious on screen.
“I'm also annoying and demanding, a walking disaster in a kitchen, and from how often you sigh at my spending habits, I'm going to go ahead and say I'm high maintenance too.”
Hank huffs out a laugh, and starts grating cheese. “Maybe. But you're good in bed, so it evens out.”
“God, you can't say that. Youtube will demonetize the video in a second and a half,” Connor complains, though he secretly agrees. He is good in bed, thank you very much, and he sort of wishes he didn't have to bleep that.
“Ugh, fine. I suppose you're also cute. Even with that goofy face of yours.”
Connor snorts. “Right, you just made at least half my viewers hate you.”
“But the other half agrees with me,” Hank says smugly. “So I'll take that risk.”
Just to make sure it's not lost in their private banter, Connor leans closer to the camera. “Just in case anyone out there start getting any ideas, that was a joke. He loves me and my face, okay? This is just fun.”
“Wait, are people gonna take that seriously?!”
“Some will. Some people just take things very literally.”
Hank seems appalled by this and stares at Connor for a second, as if not quite believing it. Then he turns to the camera with his serious face on. “Okay, so, for the record, literally on camera, I love Connor, a whole heck of a lot. So don't any of you go thinking I'm being mean to him. Besides, he's mean to me too. Complains about my work even more than I do.”
“Only when you take your work home,” Connor points out, rolling his eyes. “You get so little time off, and I want to spend it with you actually present, and not buried in your cases.”
“Says the man who literally works at all hours of the day, whether I'm here or not.”
“I work from home, that's different.”
“Suuure it is.” Having grated a good pile of cheese, Hank starts spreading it across the pizza, and Connor steals a little extra to spread on his own half. Cheese can hide the sad, wilted broccoli, and Hank can't argue, unless he wants Connor to talk about his cholesterol.
“Alright, this is about done. So why don't we put this in the oven and round off the video?”
“Sure thing.”
While Hank puts the pizza in the oven, Connor checks that everything was recorded properly, and starts again for the final bit.
“So. Any closing statements before dinner?” Connor asks, as Hank wipes down the counter.
“Uhhh. Be nice? In the comments or whatever. But also in general? Just be fucking kind, alright? You don't have to like everyone or approve of everything other people do, but you can be kind. That's what I learned after being a cop. There's literally nothing more powerful than an act of kindness.”
“See?” Connor tells the camera. “This is why I love him.”
“Oh, shush,” Hank says, but he's also smiling behind his beard. “Oh, and don't do drugs. Just don't. Take my word for it.”
“Good advice. Alright, I think that's it for now. Any other questions you want to ask my lovely boyfriend and private chef, leave them in the comments. And like he said, be nice. I'll be streaming on Saturday as always, and the video I meant to post today should go up Tuesday. Since this was a one-off, I'm not going to do my whole outro or anything. I'm just going to go have some pizza, do the quickest edit of my life, and then hang out on the couch with my man and his dog.”
“Our dog,” Hank points out, and Connor grins. It's true, Sumo really is their dog now. Hank's house is their house, the bed is their bed, and their lives are so intertwined now that Connor can't imagine how hard it would be to split. Not that he was planning to do so in any kind of way, but it also surprises him to realize just how much their lives have meshed, and he can't help the bubbles of happiness in his gut.
“Our dog, of course. Take care, everybody!” he says, waving at the camera, and then turns it off.
Hank lets out a huge breath, his shoulders slumping. “Fuck, let's not do that again.”
Pulling him into a tight hug, Connor kisses his cheek and rubs his back. “You did amazing, though. But if you change your mind and don't want me to post it-”
“Shit no, after going through all of that? No, it's going up,” Hank says firmly, and pulls back enough for a slow, sweet kiss. “You go start your edit. I'll call you when dinner's ready.”
“Okay.”
Connor does just that. He makes a good start, the pizza turns out perfectly nice, and it's not even ten PM by the time he starts the upload, and watches the percentage tick up with bated breath. As soon as it's done, he forces himself to shut down his computer and go fulfil his promise of hanging out with his man and their dog on the couch.
“How'd it turn out?” Hank asks, taking his sexy reading glasses off as Connor plops down next to him with a whoosh of breath.
“Good. I think it's going to be a hit.”
“Of course it will. I'm in it.”
“Damn right,” Connor agrees, and gets up to swing his leg across Hank's lap to straddle him.
“Oh, hey there,” Hank purrs, and puts aside his stupid, ever-present work tablet that Connor hates so much. “Is this your idea of hanging out?”
Connor shakes his head, leaning in for a hungry kiss. “No. I call this seducing you.”
“Well, shit, count me in,” Hank says on a laugh, and Connor makes good on his words.
The video is the most popular video Connor has ever made, despite the sub par editing and instant demonetization for no damn reason Connor can find.
But he was right. Everyone loves Hank.
Good. Because he does too. A whole heck of a lot.
End.