Work Text:
Hank Olson is grateful he’s made a group of friends during Freshman Orientation.
They’re the Musketeers. Him, Art Baker, Ray Garraty, and Pete McVries. They all get along well, even if Pete’s got a smart mouth.
He likes to talk. So does Hank. That’s what makes the two of them click so well together in particular.
Not to say that the other two boys in the Musketeers aren’t talkative, of course. But there’s a massive fucking difference between Art making friendly conversation because of Southern hospitality or Ray getting his White ass hopped up ranting about politics versus what Pete and Hank do.
Pete’s a fucking smartass. Ribs Hank so much, sometimes he feels like a family-sized tray of baby back ribs slathered in barbeque. But see, Hank goes and ribs Pete right back.
Their banter comes easy. Snappy. Natural.
Hank’s got a big fucking mouth on him. That’s something he’s known since he was a toddler. Rarely have people been able to keep up with him and his mouth.
Pete McVries, though? That motherfucker is sharp. Not book smart, necessarily—guy doesn’t even know the difference between Sinbad and Treasure Island— but street smart.
Pete’s quick on his toes. Able to take someone’s statement, pick it apart, and throw a response right back without hesitation.
Hank likes that about Pete. Not that he’ll ever admit it to the guy’s face, less McVries gets a big head.
It’s Pete who leads their little pack of buddies. Pete who gave them the title Musketeers in the first place. Pete’s the one with the ideas, too, always eager to go try new things around campus. He’s extroverted and adventurous and got a love of life that’s hard to ignore.
The rest of them just try to keep up.
With Pete, it’s always go go go. It’s admirable as much as it pisses Hank off. He’s got shorter legs than the other three, so sometimes he lags behind when they’re off across campus, grabbing lunch or going to the Rec Center or the on-campus theater.
There’s a lot activities on campus they can do for free with a student I.D. Pete seemingly always keeps the activities calendar opened on his phone to take them on their latest adventure.
Hank at least appreciates that the newest activity the Musketeers attend is Bingo. It’s lowkey and involves possible free prizes.
Their group manage to find seats together in a four-seater table. The entire cafeteria is packed with students trying to eat dinner but also ready to play. Bingo nights get heated here. Free stuff will do that with college students.
After a few rounds of duds, Hank gets a lucky break.
He leaps to his feet with a whoop. “BINGO!” He carefully carries his card over to table where the Student Activities Committee is set up.
All around him he hears groans of disappointment from suckers. He hands the card over to a dorky dude who’s wearing thick glasses, a tie, and a denim vest. “Hm… Yup, that’s a bingo! Here’s your prize.”
Hank wins a gift card for the student store. It’s one of the prizes he’d been gunning for while playing.
“Aw, yeah! That’s how you play bingo, boys…!” he says proudly when he returns to his seat, prize in hand.
“Good job, buddy,” says Art with a smile.
Ray huffs and shakes his card of its tokens to reset. “Man, I was only one spot away from a bingo!”
“Better luck next time, my boy,” says Pete with a chuckle. He then grins at Hank. “Whatcha gonna buy with that gift card, Olson?”
Hank smirks and jokes, “Ten naked ladies, obviously.”
Pete hoots and hollers. Art bites his lip and tries not to laugh, obviously finding the joke too crass. Ray sarcastically says, “Pretty cheap ladies you’re gonna find with just a fifty dollar gift card.”
“I’ll get ‘em on sale.”
At a neighboring table, Collie Parker gives an ugly snort behind his fist. Rank Sanders looks up from his card with a raised eyebrow. Gary Barkovitch cackles and says, “Damn Olson, you cheapskate! You gon’ share?”
“Oi, I’m keepin’ my prize! You go win your own fuckin’ gift card to buy ladies with, Barkovitch!” Olson lobbies back easily.
Thankfully Barkovitch doesn’t take the banter too badly. Just playfully flips Hank off before turning back to his table with a grin to start the newest bingo game.
It’s a far cry from the first time Hank tried to joke with Barkovitch. The blond got all defensive and shit. Not Hank’s fault he didn’t know what the hell a meemaw was. It’s a Southern thing and Hank’s a proud New Yorker.
Culture clashes are bound to pop up in college like that. Thankfully enough, everyone is so desperate to make friends and have a good time, they’re able to move on from awkward toe-stepping.
The Bingo night isn’t a bad one. The best prizes offered are probably the gift cards. Another guy from their dorm named Tressler wins himself a pair of headphones; lucky for the guy that always wears his battered headphones around campus. Barkovitch manages to win some t-shirts in a drawstring bag with their school’s logo on it, which he excitedly shows off to his impressed tablemates. Pete finishes the night by winning a massive gift basket full of an assortment of snacks and candy.
When everyone turns back in their bingo cards and tokens, Pete’s expression is contemplative. It takes until getting back to the dorms for him to say anything, the conversation mostly carried by Hank and Ray talking books.
“Hey, Ray. Art. Since neither one of you won anythin’, take your pick,” Pete offers suddenly, patting the crinkly cellophane paper shielding the gift basket. “C’mon, whatever snack or candy you want.”
“You sure, Pete?” Ray asks, already eyeing the gift basket with consideration. “It’s your prize, man.”
“I’m sure. This is all too much for me to eat myself, anyways. And this way, the Musketeers all get a win,” says Pete warmly, smile crinkling his eyes and moving the scar on his face.
Art claps Pete on the shoulder. “That’s real generous of you, McVries.”
“Naw, it ain’t much at all. Besides, the rest of you’d do the same, right?”
“That’s right, Musketeer,” says Ray easily. He waits until Pete plucks open the bow holding the wrapping paper together before digging his arm in and grabbing a packet of chocolate chip cookies. “Appreciate it.”
Pete grins. “Anytime, compadre.” He nods at Art. “C’mon, Art. You too.”
“Well, if you insist…” Art seemingly gets over his hesitance and worry of seeming rude with Ray having gotten something before him. He grabs a Milky Way. Fitting for the guy’s favorite chocolate bar to be something space-themed when he wants to be an astronaut someday. “Thank ya kindly.”
“‘Course, Art.”
“Look at you, mister generous,” Hank teases before he tries to grab his own candy bar.
Pete playfully smacks Hank’s hand. “Hey! You already got a prize, man.”
“C’mon, McVries! Don’t be stingy,” Hank retorts, trying not to pout.
“You got a gift card. You can buy your own candy bar!”
“Yeah, but I gotta walk all the way to the student store to buy it. And your gift basket is literally right here.”
Art slowly extends his unopened candy to Hank. “Here, buddy.”
Suddenly, Hank is horribly embarrassed. He waves his friend’s kind offer away with, “Art, I’m not takin’ your fuckin’ candy from you! I was just givin’ Pete a hard time.”
“I didn’t mean anythin’ by it either, Art,” says Pete, now bashful. “I’m happy to share with y’all.”
Art clicks his tongue. “You two bicker like such kids, sometimes, it’s real hard to tell when you serious.” He’s smiling fondly even as he lightly scolds the pair.
Ray laughs around a mouthful of cookie, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hah! Shit, Art… They don’t bicker like kids. They bicker like they’re an old married couple.”
Hank sputters, feeling a flash of heat zing through his body. “We do not!” he squawks.
Art hums, dark eyes gaining a little twinkle in them. He ignores Hank, turning to the redhead to say, “No, you right, Ray—”
“No the fuck he isn’t!”
“—It’d be like me gettin’ between my gramma and grampa.” Art gives a playful shake of his head and sighs wistfully. “I should just stop tryin’ to insert myself as a third wheel…”
Hank looks wildly between Art and Ray, those smarmy little shits, before looking to Pete for backup. Surely Pete, with his quick wit and smart mouth, will have some kind of retort against that.
Pete just stares at Art and Ray with a deer in headlights look. It’s harder to tell with his skin tone, but Hank’s pretty sure the guy is blushing.
Damn. First time anyone’s made Pete speechless. And it’s from some totally unfounded comment about Pete and Hank being gay for each other.
“…I’m usin’ my gift card to get a plane ticket back to Brooklyn,” Hank says weakly, trying to salvage the situation. “I’ll buy a candy bar at my favorite bodega instead.”
Art giggles. “That so?”
Ray dramatically rolls his eyes, and says around a mouthful of cookie, “Olson, a bodega’s just a fucking corner store. Literally nothing different about it from any other type of store—”
“You’re wrong, Garraty!” Hank cries, dramatically pointing at his redheaded friend. “A bodega can be a magical fuckin’ place! It’s a place made for dreams! It’s—”
The awkward tension passes as Hank playfully debates Ray on bodegas, something they’ve done before at least twice already. The rest of the night winds down without any more hiccups.
Hank completely forgets to grab a snack from Pete. Maybe next time.
Hank nearly forgets the comments about the gift basket until three days later.
Pete of course is a total smartass that offers Art and Ray another snack but lightly smacks Hank’s hand away when he reaches for his favorite candy bar.
“Oh come on, Pete! This is Hank Olson oppression, plain and simple!”
Pete’s warm eyes twinkle with mischief, too damn pretty for comfort. “You still got that gift card, Olson. Go buy yourself some snacks, little man.”
“That’s a mighty fuckin’ assumption, McVries. What if I spent it all?”
“Oh, I know your ass hasn’t spent it all yet! You would’ve mentioned if you did. Remember when your I.D. ran outta funds that one time?”
“That’s ‘cuz my family hadn’t wired all the money for my meals just yet, fuck face.”
“Same difference. If you used up all your card, you’d at least say somethin’. Maybe even show us what you spent it on.”
It’s sound fucking logic, is the thing. Pete knows him too well. Can read him like a goddamn book. It’s both infuriating as it is charming.
That’s just the Pete McVries special, though, having that perfect balancing act of being a jackass who cares.
“Urghhhh… Whatever.” Hank slumps in his seat. “Didn’t want your stupid fuckin’ candy anyways.”
“You were beggin’ for free candy just ten seconds ago, man!” Pete crows before falling into obnoxious laughter. God, why must Pete McVries look so angelic when he laughs…? Even the shitty fluorescents can’t dim how stupidly handsome he is.
“What’s this about free candy, McVries?”
The Musketeers all turn to the newcomer. It’s Collie, grinning with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets.
Pete cuts his own laughter short. “Oh! I’ve been givin’ out some candy and stuff to folks that didn’t win nothin’ at bingo the other night.” He gestures at the basket. “Feel free and take somethin’, man.”
Collie’s grin widens. “You serious? Thanks, man.” Collie reaches in and grabs a Reese’s.
“Are you for real?!” Hank wails, “Pete, I’m one of your best fuckin’ friends, here…!”
Pete ignores Hank. With a smirk, he offers Collie, “Why don’t ya grab a second for your buddy? The kid that does origami.”
Collie swiftly grabs a Kit-Kat. “I’m sure Rank will appreciate it, McVries. You’re the best.”
“No he’s not…!” Hank calls after a retreating Collie, who just laughs and waves goodbye at the Musketeers.
Hank can’t keep up his sulking when he watches Collie go to the corner of the common room, sitting down next to Rank. The other perks up, stopping in the middle of his origami to beam back at Collie. After Rank takes the Kit-Kat, he shyly waves over at the Musketeers with a grin that shows off a little snaggletooth.
Okay, that’s sweet. Rank usually keeps to himself. Good to see he’s got at least Collie to look out for him.
Pete smiles and waves back, looking genuinely proud of himself for making a connection and being charitable. Ugh. He can be so… so… charming. Especially after he’s done helping someone.
As much as Hank loves their banter, he wishes Pete would do that more with him. Be all charming and sweet. Smiling like the sun’s trapped in his gleaming teeth.
Hank forgets about grabbing a candy bar again, lost in his thoughts.
About a week later, Hank’s stressing over an upcoming test in Physics. He gets Art to help run flashcards with him in the library. His friend’s in more advanced Science classes and will likely know if he’s ready or not.
“You got the last five right in a row,” Art says proudly, flipping the card around for Hank to see the answer. “I don’t think you gotta worry ‘bout that test, buddy.”
“Yeah, well… I dunno. Better safe than sorry,” Hank says with a shrug. He tries not to bend the stack of flashcards in his hands out of nerves.
“Ay, Olson!”
Hank flinches at the loud call of his name. His neck cracks when he sharply looks at the offender.
It’s Pete, totally uncaring about being loud in the library despite the side-eyes he’s getting.
Hank’s already got a finger up to his mouth, hissing out a “shhhh” when Pete lopes up to their table.
“Sorry,” McVries says in stage whisper. He makes himself at home in the seat next to Art, diagonally across from Hank. He drops his bag to the floor and says in a more normal volume, “Just wanted to see where y’all were.”
“We said the group chat we were studyin’,” Art points out.
“Yeah, but not where.”
“Are you here to bother us because Ray’s busy?” Hank asks suspiciously. He of course knows the answer. Ray’s off doing baseball team stuff with Stebbins, off to a place Pete can’t follow.
Pete points at himself, eyes bright and expression faux innocent. “Who, me? Botherin’ my best buds? Say it ain’t so!”
“Well, Hank really wants to buckle down and study. I dunno if you bein’ here will help with that, Pete,” Art starts slowly.
Pete gasps. “Hey! Are you kickin’ me out?”
“Not at all. But if you’d be considerate enough to do your own homework or read a book or some such quietly ‘til we’re done, then we can all do somethin’ more interestin’ after.”
Hank’s frankly impressed with Art’s skills at smoothing over possible frayed nerves. It’s the kind of even tone and kind suggestion he can imagine Grandma Geraldine Baker making to a baby Art, which puts a smile on his face.
“Oh, don’t look so happy at me keepin’ my trap shut, Hank,” Pete says with an exaggerated pout.
Hank shrugs. “This is a library, not the quad. Besides, if you don’t gotta study or do your fuckin’ schoolwork, you’re just asking for trouble later.”
“Of course your nerd ass would worry this much over school so early in the semester,” Pete says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. But at Hank’s glare, he raises his palms. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m gon’ do some class reading.”
For all Pete is lackadaisical about his classwork, he always gets it done. Especially his stuff for English and Music Theory, which are clearly his favorite classes.
Pete riffles through his bag on the floor for his schoolwork. Hank nods and turns back to Art to keep revising.
About an hour later when they’re done studying, Pete pipes up. “Did y’all know there were actually four Musketeers in the book?”
“What?” Hank asks, pausing in putting away his Physics notes.
“Ain’t that so?” Art asks, looking intrigued.
Pete lifts the book he’s been quietly reading, showing the pair the cover. It’s the Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas.
“What the hell?! How long’ve you been reading that thing?” Hank demands in a hiss, looking from the cover to Pete’s face.
“Well, I’ve just been curious when you said we couldn’t be the Musketeers since there’s four of us… So I decided to look it up in the book itself.” Pete shrugs, grinning. He stands, putting a bookmark in the novel before shoving it in his bag. “Besides, I gotta read a book and write a report for it for the final project in my English class. Thought I’d get a headstart on that.”
The three of them start to make their way out of the school library. They’re on the first floor, so they just need to dodge the people coming in from the front doors as they exit into the crisp air.
“You son of a bitch,” Hank says without heat, holding open the door for Art and Pete, “You’re reading a whole fuckin’ book just to prove me wrong?”
“If I didn’t do it, I couldn’t prove you were wrong ‘bout a book for once, Olson,” Pete says with a smug look on his face, brown eyes twinkling bright under the sunlight.
Art chuckles and gently knocks his elbow into Hank’s shoulder. “He gotchu there, buddy.”
Hank rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah… I guess it’s only fair to let you get one thing right when it comes to proper literature, McVries.”
“Now that’s my favorite nerd. Always so humble,” Pete teases with a theatrical bow towards Hank. “Oh great Olson the Bookish One, thank you for allowin’ me the privilege to best you…!”
“Shut the hell up, man!” But Hank’s laughing even as he says it. He’s in such a good mood, he forgets he’s nervous for his upcoming Physics test.
The Physics test kills Hank. He’s now officially Hank Olson the ghost.
That’s what he feels like as he walks across campus, eyes unseeing as he enters the dorm building through pure muscle memory. He crosses the common room in a silent daze.
“Olson? Olson! Hey, Hank…!”
Hank blinks. He turns just enough to look over his shoulder. Pete’s there, frowning at him in concern.
“Hey, my man. Was the test really that bad?” Pete asks softly.
Hank shrugs. Raises a hand and makes a seesaw motion.
He gets like this sometimes. After he’s done something super stressful, like taking a test. He clams up. Dissociates.
He hoped he’d stop doing this once he started college. Seems like old habits die hard.
Pete frowns at him, eyes big and brown like a puppy. “C’mon, Olson. Come back to my dorm. Let’s chill out there for a bit, okay?”
Hank nods. Pete’s rooming with Art. Art will understand, surely.
Hank follows Pete. Pete unlocks his dorm door. Hank steps inside.
Art’s not in the room.
As Hank idly stands and stares over at Art’s side, Pete explains, “Art’s off at his bible study.”
Oh. That’s right. Hank forgot.
Pete wraps an arm around Hank’s shoulders and steers him towards his side of the room. “C’mere and sit, Hank… That’s it.”
Hank sits. He blankly stares down at his shoes until a somewhat familiar basket swings into his vision. Its contents are sparse since Pete first won it, but there’s a few lingering snacks in there.
“Take your pick. Hell, you can even take two. You deserve a little treat after survivin’ that test.”
Hank tries very hard not to cry just then. It’d be awkward if he just sits in Pete’s room, on the guy’s bed, and starts up the waterworks.
Hank plucks a packet of peanut butter crackers, one of his go-to snacks for studying. Hesitating, he also grabs a 3 Musketeers bar. It’s his favorite.
The basket disappears. Hank slowly opens the packet of crackers and starts to munch on them. He feels much more alive once Pete hands him a water bottle and settles down next to Hank on the bed.
“S’rry. ‘M gettin’ crumbs on your sheets,” Hank mumbles out.
“Nah, you’re good. Sheets are likely due for a wash, anyways,” Pete says, kind in his dismissiveness.
They sit in silence. Hank finishes the crackers and half the water bottle.
He picks up the 3 Musketeers bar. “Guess no one else has good taste, if this thing was still in your basket.”
Pete smiles, slow and fond. He says, blunt as can be, “I saved it for ya.”
Hank pauses in opening the chocolate. The wrapper crinkles under his fingers. “Wait. Really?”
“‘Course, man. You were so homesick that first week, I remember you buyin’ one of those things almost every day.”
“Oh.” Hank feels a blush warm his cheeks and ducks his head.
He didn’t realize anyone noticed. Not even the Musketeers, for all they declared themselves friends.
But Pete noticed. He noticed and remembered.
“Even if I didn’t save it for ya, I doubt anyone else woulda picked it. There’s better chocolate bars out there,” Pete says teasingly.
Hank huffs and rolls his eyes. “You always gotta be ready with a smart comment in your mouth.” But he can’t help his smile after taking the first bite. “Mm…”
Pete stays quiet after that. Just looking at Hank and smiling, pleased as punch as Hank slowly eats the chocolate.
“Y’know, it’s funny that this your favorite kinda chocolate bar. Especially with you endin’ up a Musketeer, and all.”
“It’s called… fuckin’… irony…” he says around a mouthful of chocolatey goodness coating whipped nougat.
Pete smiles, eyes bright, as he leans in close. “Y’know, I haven’t had one of those things in years…”
Hank guiltily pauses mid-bite. Just the barest sliver of chocolate crust peeks between his lips. Shit, Pete should’ve said something earlier! Hank’s just stuffed his face like a pig. He’s practically finished off the whole thing in record time.
He should offer to buy Pete one later with his gift card.
Before he can panic further, Pete gently cups Hank’s face. Looks pointedly down at Hank’s lips before askin’, “Mind if I get a taste?”
Hank’s eyes blow wide at the bold flirtation. Pete doesn’t actually want a full 3 Musketeers bar to himself, it seems.
Feeling his entire face burn hot like a stove, Hank gives a single nod and lets his eyes slide closed.
When Pete’s lips meet his, Hank easily opens his own.
Pete’s tongue is warm as it slides against Hank’s. It’s a little gross, the fact that they’re eating the last bite of a chocolate bar together like this. But Hank Olson’s no quitter. He also doesn’t waste perfectly good food if it’s something he’s not allergic to.
Hank hums, melting against Pete. The other holds him, all gentle and warm, like Hank’s something precious. It makes Hank’s heart thrum harshly in his chest and his fingers tingle as they cradle the back of Pete’s neck. Pete practically licks the lingering chocolate out of Hank’s mouth like he’s starving.
Waiting for this chocolate after weeks of Pete denying him makes it all the sweeter. So’s the culmination of their bantering and flirting being this kiss, right on Pete’s bed.
When their lips part, Hank lets his eyes open to half-mast. “I’m buyin’ you somethin’ nice later at the school store. I got fifty big ones to spend on my new boyfriend, see. How 'bout it?”
Hank can feel Pete’s blush heating all the way down his neck. “Well ain’t you mister generous?”
“Only for you, my man,” Hank says playfully before reeling Pete in for another chocolatey kiss.