Work Text:
The Hanks were… fine.
Or at least, as fine as anyone could be under such unreal circumstances—perhaps even more fine than they had any right to be. They’ve still got their moments where they ask the other to pinch them real hard , just in case.
It’s curious. You would think that being human would pose a threat to their lackadaisy attitudes, and where their stunts fit into all of this . Maybe spawn another existential crisis on top of the previous ones they’ve had, ones that were quickly shut down in deference to their former, not-so-awesome sponsor. Not to mention, the confusion all of that caused was a huge bummer.
Yet, here they were.
So long was this long-held idea that they could put their lives and limbs on the line, all in the company of each other and their house human– free from this fleshier, and much less durable human reality. Welcome, the highs and lows of working demanding jobs, deadlines, knowing when to switch over to formula, hiring a publicist, applying to medical school, firing that publicist, changing diapers, knowing what an “amy-gee-dolla” is, and just what the regulations for doggy skydiving were– if any .
With of course, the occasional dipping of their toes into extreme sports they still had pumping in their, now very real , veins.
The Hanks had always rolled with the punches. This was just the latest round, and they’d take it the same way they always had—together.
“Shit!”
2’s grip slips on the knife in his hand, edge catching the side of his thumb. He hisses, instinctively shoving it into his mouth before the blood can well. It’s the third time this week.
Like clockwork, 1 is already at his side, pulling a roll of paper towels from under the counter and fishing a bandaid out of the drawer. Why were those there? He lingers just long enough to give 2 a look before turning back to the cutting board, cutting up some radishes and then deftly setting them aside.
“That’s the third time this week,” he echoes exactly what’s running through 2’s head. “Even left extra bandaids in there just for you, brah. What’s going on?”
2 exhales, long and thin, wishing he could meet the question with a better answer. Instead, he sidles up to his housemate and continues to work on the veggies for their too loaded, definitely not at all french salad. Every so often, his fingers twitch against the new bandaid.
“Been thinking again, I guess.”
“You’ve got to be more specific than that.”
“...about everything that’s been going on so far, y’know?”
“Everything…?”
“...with all of us. All of this.”
“All of us. All of this...”
“Man, c’mon… give me sec, at least!” A frustrated noise leaves 2 at the insistence from the other man, fidgeting with the cucumber in front of him which was easily the size of his forearm.
“My manuscript…” 2 begins, his eyes brightening a bit. “ I’ve been so excited to see where it’d go from the second I started… which is sort of nuts considering a manuscript rang zero bells just months ago.”
“Don’t know how you do it. Hours holed up, sat on that chair in front of a desk. Tapping, tapping away… mumbling about probes .”
“It’s prose. I checked. Anyway, you make it sound miserable.”
“Sounds and looks it sometimes.”
“It’s not, you meet it somewhere in the middle. Put some, lose a lot-some. Translates to tackling bigger things later on. Bigger hurdles. Sort of like… rice climbing. Or um, rock… climbing?”
1 hums at that, but still wears an expectant look, seemingly intent to get to the root of all of 2’s nervousness. He does all of this whilst popping some fresh basil into his mouth.
“It’s what I’ve been thinking about, actually.”
“Rock climbing?”
“The other thing ,” 2 shoots a sterner glance 1’s way, although the tiny smile on his lips makes it fall apart. “Tackling these bigger things without losing what makes it… worthwhile for me, amigo. Worthwhile for us.”
His wording was probably too vague to get the whole idea across, and some part of 2 thinks even he didn’t know exactly what he meant. But this worry of toppling over, having a major wipeout if he didn’t find this footing they were supposed to have by now– he hoped it reached 1 somehow.
2 wouldn't have really known otherwise.
Along with their realizations came losing a lot of what kept them aware of each other’s headspaces, moods, what adventure they were knacking for that day, what troubled them, and what they meant to each other at the very tailend. They had ways of figuring that out still, but it wasn’t all black and white anymore. 2 began to wonder–especially with 5 as the clearest example—if it ever had been. Maybe it was only ever a matter of time.
“And, what’s that?”
“Huh?”
“What makes all of this worthwhile to you?” 1 rinsed the knife under the faucet, shook off the water, and swept the diced vegetables into the growing heap. He rested an elbow against the counter, eyes settling on the other man with that same searching look , as if trying to unearth an answer he’d already half formed himself.
“I mean… being with you guys, obvi! It’s… we’re in all of this together, always!”
“But we are together… like right now. Right here.”
“Not like that…”
“Then like what?” 1 is now bumping their pinkies where the cutting board was between the two, leaving enough distance to allow 2 to pull away if he’d wished to.
He didn’t.
But, there was also a distinct guilt that came with admitting anything like what he was feeling about them–like speaking them aloud might stir up the same unease that crept in when they’d mentioned the previous Hanks, or when the house-human confronted them about their loyalties and ambitions.
2 didn’t want to see uncertainty in the face of his housemates, his friends, compadres, his ride or dies – the ones he loved . Ones that he now knew absolutely that he loved despite anything they were doing together, or outside of each other.
2 lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in until then, closing the distance between he and 1’s fingers, weaving them together and locking his gaze with the other’s.
“I miss you guys,” 2 manages. “All of us doing whatever… anything with each other. None of us somewhere else… always just… here . Close.”
1 is quiet, listening. Though, one could see a tension leaving him in his posture.
“And I know, dawg, I know… This is so epic, it’s hundreds of times better than what we were doing before… I mean, look at us. We’re really.. us now. The most us that’s ever uss-ed.”
He squeezes their joint hands solemnly.
“I stand by it, I believe in us . I just wish there was more… time to enjoy us.”
2 looked up after a few moments of silence, bracing for one of the lectures he always seemed to earn for being such a stick in the mud, even with sound enough intentions . He’d definitely get it … but he’s more so glad he was able to get his thoughts out. It was something 2 was hoping would become routine .
Instead, 1 erupted into a sudden, full-bodied laughter, the sound spilling through the kitchen and getting 2 to chuckle nervously himself.
“You–”
“...me?”
“… god, dude. Are you serious?”
Without being given a moment to answer, 2 felt an arm curling around his waist and drawing them impossibly close. It was sudden , but 1 didn’t let it stop there, a mouth finding him in a way that short circuited his brain. The taste was sharp and nutty, heat threading through him until it burrowed somewhere deep in his core. All 2 could manage was a quiet, surrendering sigh, holding onto the moment until 1 finally drew back, his palms smoothing over 2’s hips with a gentleness that anchored the burn still in his chest.
“What— huh…?”
“Were you seriously stressin’ yourself out over wanting us to have more “us” time?” 1 skipped right over the obvious, despite his face appearing just as warm. Maybe because he still hadn’t registered that they’d only ever shared a kiss once before, under different circumstances. Or maybe because he had , and it wasn't like whatever else was going on right now. “We’re us , dawg. It’s us .”
“Wh--Which is why this stuff’s scary, brah…!” 2 is able to put aside how disoriented he was to hammer his point home. “Think about it! We’re a team, sure, but not in the same way. We got all new responsibilities… one’s that put us everywhere but together 24/7. I didn’t know if–”
“If we’d felt the same? If the other dudes and I haven’t been itching to dick around like we used to? Talk about… this? After everything?” 1’s voice cracks slightly, a flicker of hurt in his words. Still, their hands find each other again at their sides, leaving much to be desired. “God, you dweeb…”
“I swear I thought it was just me, man…! I really did. I can’t… I can’t tap into you guys like before, y'know? At least then we were always on the same page about… this part of us.”
“I know… I hate that I know that. It’s been hella freaky… but– with you guys here with me – I dunno… I–”
“--You wouldn’t turn back the clock for nothing.” 2 cut him off, his expression something softer and his own hands finding 1’s back, drawing little circles into the yellow jumper. “Don’t I know it…”
This closeness feels like the first they’ve allowed themselves to have without getting in their own way. A reminder of what they’d long put off, or were convinced they had to put off.
“We aren’t getting any younger.”
“Don’t I know it...” 1 repeats back to him. “That’s why–the others got to hear this from you themselves, amigo… We’re all running around like chickens with our heads cut off or somethin’. Not knowing… Second guessing. Thinking way too hard about us .”
“Mm,” 2 murmurs defeatedly, bottom lip catching between his teeth. “You really think the timing’s right…? I mean, tonight-tonight?”
“I think tonight’s as good a night as there ever will be.”
2 remembers at that moment exactly why their dinner plans had everyone in a tilt, throwing together what they could for a most wicked night of celebrating… them. The Hanks!
“We really should get that salad done then… Roast’s got at least another hour in the oven… and we both reek.”
“Nu-uh…That’s all you, brah. You’re the one who’s been sweating his brakes off since we started cutting stuff up.”
“Dude, we stink. Trust me… You and I both know stink .”
“I’m hearing some deflection...”
The dig isn’t met with a verbal response, only an elbow to 1’s ribs before they both turn back to the salad neither of them was all that interested in right now. They worked shoulder to shoulder, bumping into each other despite the kitchen having enough space for two, their movements more a conversation than anything spoken.
It was much later into the night that the other Hanks began taking their seats at the dining table one by one, including their newest addition who was snacking on the cut up fruit courtesy of 4 in her high chair. He’d arrived laden with what could only be every possible cake the bakery had to offer, believing the solution to not knowing what flavor to pick was to bring five whole flavors instead.
Not that anyone was losing much from the five cakes – except maybe some of their budget for the next week.
Another round of Toasty-O’s for breakfast tomorrow wouldn’t kill them.
Then there were 5 and 3 who came in with Hank 0 in tow, 5 rocking the gummy smiled girl in one arm while both placed their hefty bags of food onto the table. One had brought a hearty pasta spread from a local Italian spot, and the other followed suit with everything off the menu of a Mexican joint he went to after class– with enough side guac to spare to feed them thrice over.
Whether it be because of their shared tastes or the fact that too many chefs in one kitchen was totally unsafe, the Hanks saw the mountainous amounts of food still as a better outcome than a fried, seared or seasoned finger.
Besides , the night was young, they had a lot to be thankful for, and they had always sworn to never back down from a challenge.
Plates clattered, the men already prattling on about how their days had gone, and shoveling amounts of food onto their plates that definitely classified a cheat day and a half. It was messy, loud, and full of the kind of chaos that made sense only to them.
“No kidding…” 1 managed between a mouthful of roast and molten, cheesy pasta, brows furrowed. “So you’re telling me– every time we were skating the slopes, flying headlong into frost, marching straight into most-certain gnarliness… our hearts could’ve just stopped?”
3, with his cheeks full of gouda goodness, gave a furious nod before chasing it down with a pull from his beer. “Doesn’t always happen… but that’s not even the cool part, brah! The old professor dude had us read this book–pages and pages about stuff… we’ve done already!”
“Woah…” 4 leaned back in his chair, reacting with something closer to wonder than worry. That toothy grin stretched wide as he passed an avocado slice to the infant at his right, who took it with eager gums. “We’re like… superheroes.”
“Well… not exactly.” 2’s voice slipped in, bringing his own beer to his lips. “It does mean we’re the most fearless team there ever was. I mean, a book is saying we should be dead… but we’re not!”
“Course we aren’t,” 1 roared, clinking his bottle against 2’s with a fondness, and flashing a pearly smile. “Cuz we’re…!”
And just like that, the table erupted into their signature group cheer.
“The HANKS!!!”
The roar of it lingered and their joint laughter spilled over into other parts of the conversation, silverware and the clink of glasses serving as a sort of background noise during moments of silence. Which there were very few of.
1 got to talking about the newer market he was appealing to, and how he’d gotten to meet some of the dogs at the shelter he was meant to test his stuff out on. One’s that loosely reminded him of the others, and ones that he fell in love with immediately. 2 followed, mixed on his manuscript’s current state, but no less animated as he spoke about it. He spilled the details with a kind of bright urgency–what he wanted to do next, where the characters might take him, and how they too– resembled the others. 4, despite having had less of an idea of what he aspired to do, found work at a tattoo parlor that by some twist of fate, was owned by someone from their past. This meant there were… hurdles he had to get past before any smooth sailing. It did remind him just how grateful he was to have the others there to keep him grounded. Finally, 5 got to talking about the bouncer chairs he’d seen out in the open that he’d like to browse with all of them, hoping to pave Hank 0’s way to taking her first steps. It was a milestone all the Hanks were anticipating. And, with that in the air– and all of them wearing these too wide smiles that could rival the stars – 5 said it.
“I’ve been dreaming…of this . More of this, for a while. ”
For the first time all night, a quiet settled over them. One that the Hanks– rarely let linger.
“I didn’t know what was missing… I mean , I’d finally gotten everything I’d never thought I'd be allowed to want . With the help of you homies and the house-homie . But–” He stops, then pans his eyes around the table. “It’s … us . I’ve wanted more of us . So much more of us in ways… I hadn’t thought I’d wanted more of us. ”
“Other ways…?” 3 asks, sheepish. 4 mirrors this by chewing a bit slower and darting his eyes to the other Hanks, confused.
“In… every way. In our always bussin’, never not totally epic– team way… in the bestest of best amigos way, and–” 5’s cheeks take on a shade of red, his lips curling into that shy smile of his, dimples making themselves known. “...In the way where you guys are what I want to wake up to every morning, and who I’d surf the iciest, most diabolical, mountain tall glaciers –for no other reason than… that I love you. ”
They all take a moment to digest that, both Hanks 3 and 4 still trying to wrap their heads around what the confession meant for them as a group.
“Like…love-love?”
“The realest love-love, brah.”
“And…all–?”
“Yeah… all of you. ”
“So, does that make us…”
“Partners? Uh-huh. Just another way to join the rest of them.” 5 notes, never letting his warm gaze leave the men in front of him.
1 and 2 should have probably seen this coming at some point in their night– I mean, that was the plan they’d settled on. Never did they think that they’d be beaten to the punch.
Although , that honesty 5 carried so effortlessly– that hunger for life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. They’d only recently channeled it in a way that didn't involve extreme sports, or toxic positivity.
The kiss– shared time before this latest one, it was always just dudes helping each other out in the heat of the moment. It had been a search for some semblance of companionship that stretched further than either of them had known it to be.
Yeah. They couldn’t have possibly been alone in what they were feeling. This yearning that remained unspoken about.
How in chasing after everything this freedom offered, they had overlooked what was already there between them. Something patient , ready to be acknowledged when the time came.
It was real, and it was here.
“Me too,” All men at the table besides 5, say in unison– startling each other– and with identical redness to their faces, following it with an even louder declaration. “We love you too!”
“I love you guys ten times over!”
“Yeah well, I love you guys a hundred times over!”
“Tough luck, I love you guys a bazillion times over!”
“That can’t be a real number…”
“Hold on, it might be…”
“Never heard of it before today!”
“That sounds like a you problem, brah. Point stands.”
5, now sitting back in his seat, cooing child to his right, and the frenzied voices of his partners echoing the room again as they had before– realized that this would have to be discussed in full at another time, but that the brunt of the news was over with.
And, he believes that enough about it was understood so as the rest of the evening went off without a hitch, the atmosphere a lot more open, inviting, and reminiscent of their former selves than they were used to in the last couple of months. The Hanks, unconsciously, or perhaps more consciously than they thought, already had what it took to make this new type of relationship feel anything but awkward.