[ hank personally doesn't care for the cold, but he's not all that much affected by it when he's hard at work, mind cycling through connor's reaction. the kid looks almost... crestfallen when hank acknowledges the loss. it must seem like life or death to him, losing, and it strikes him how young connor is, how there is so much life ahead of him and hank just about lived half of his already.
god, connor is so young.
he swallows a lump in his throat, the tightening in his chest and pretends he isn't a giant pervert sweet on someone half his age. ]
It happens.
[ he adds, when connor looks back at him again. perhaps he's looking for comfort, although hank is probably the least qualified person to do that. ] And yeah, I'll have her good as new for you before the week is out.
[ he clicks his teeth at him, unable to help a disgruntled little noise. ] You know that even legends lose sometimes, right?
( connor bobs slightly on the spot, tiny little bounces on the balls of his feet that give away the restlessness coursing through him. hank's here, and somehow that helps, but he's still buzzing with nervous energy, bitter about the failure, angry about his bike, relieved that the engine failure didn't turn out worse for him. happy that hank is here.
no, he's not. )
You're the best.
( it's not flattery, it's the truth. hank knows his bike as well as connor, maybe better, and if hank says that he'll have it ready in time then connor whole heartedly believes it will be ready before the week is out. he knows his stuff.
but the legends comment sticks, and connor stops shifting around to look at the older man instead. his head tilts, not an unusual gesture but slightly out of place without the curious look in his eyes. now it's just...a little confusion in his eyes. a little wry twist to his smile. a little frustration furrowing his brows. )
I'm not a legend. ( he says, looking over to the truck instead. something about the moment breaks and the restlessness is back again. he's working his hands together now, clasped in front of him and rubbing one another together. not quite as fretful as hand-wringing would be, but somewhere in that ball park.
he doesn't want to elaborate, he decides very quickly. he doesn't want to open up to hank and have the man see him for who he is. he doesn't want hank to look at him with scorn and derision. he doesn't want hank to look at him with affection and fierce protectiveness.
he wants to get in the truck. ) Are we going, then?
( he's already heading to the passenger seat and hauling himself up into the seat. )
[ hank grunts, locking up and securing the bike to the back of his pickup; can't have this beauty rolling around, right? but he's paying attention to connor's reactions, his body language, the mood that he desperately tries to hide, thrumming away under his skin. hank sees more than he lets on, see; he's already noticed a lot about connor, about how he approaches him, that perfectionist streak a mile wide and yet when he's in trouble, hank's the one he calls.
connor is restless, secretive, and something inside him shuts down at hank's comment, and he privately wonders if he's said the wrong thing. he doesn't push the point; it's late as hell, it's cold as balls, and they have a place to go home to. connor would have to stay the night at his place, and hank is trying very hard not to think of that as he climbs into the driver's seat and starts the car again.
he's driving for a few quiet minutes when he eventually speaks up. ]
Eaten anything yet?
[ the kid might be a pain in his ass and the unwitting star of a growing amount of his wet dreams, but hank has to look out for him, too. ]
( connor lets the silence hang between them, watching the road and resolutely not thinking about a number of things. one of those absolutely includes not thinking about how difficult this night is going to be. connor currently spends around a few hours of the week in hank's presence, adding up all the visits and tune ups and bigger work pieces. a few hours scattered over seven days is already tough enough, connor's not sure that he's going to be able to keep his blatant denial in place if he's with hank all night.
he considers a scenario where they have to share a bed. and then he very much doesn't. this might well be hell.
when hank breaks the silence connor looks over him, and then relaxes back in the seat and puts his feet up on the dashboard, a slightly cocky grin on his face as he shrugs. )
Ever? Yeah. ( he pulls out his phone to check the time, and visibly winces when he sees the time on the display. it's late. ) It's uh...been a while, yeah.
( there's definitely no warm little feeling in his chest at the thought that hank might possibly care. )
[ hank's dressing down comes swift and sharp, but he isn't angry even as they make their way back to his place, what with hank fighting very hard not to feel like some sort of pedophile. connor's going to have to stay over; and hank is going to have this boy in his house, and his mind is already coming up with different scenarios, every one of them roundly rejected for the sake of decency.
but at least connor's got a little of his spirit back, and he ends up shaking his head anyway. he's got food at home, and he'll have to cook it a little, but at least connor will have had something to eat, this idiot. he really must be taking the loss a lot worse than he's letting on. ]
( connor very much does not take his feet off the dashboard, despite the affirmative response and little pointing gesture he makes at hank along with said response.
he feels compelled to remind hank of his age – his bullshit one, of course, the one his ID clearly states despite hank thinking it is horse shit – for a reason he can't quite identify. just to put it out there. that he's not a child – true even without the fake ID – that he's very much a competent adult of legal age and–
and something. nothing. he doesn't follow that train of thought, just looks out of the passenger window as they drive. doesn't hurt that it's still dark, meaning that hank's image is reflected in the glass almost perfectly. even though he's not looking at the man, connor makes a point not to look around the eyes of the reflection. lord knows the last thing he wants is to be caught awkwardly staring. )
Penicillin, but if that comes up in your food then we're going to have problems. ( connor grins slightly, not the silly smirk but an actual amused expression, he can't help himself. he also can't help when he breaks his eyes from the window to look back over at the man driving as well. just for a minute.
it's rude not to look at the person you're talking to, right? ) I can cook. You know, if you want. You've already done enough for me tonight.
[ hank's chuckle is low and genuine even as he rolls his eyes at connor, who has stubbornly refused to take his feet off the dashboard. ah, whatever. connor is a punk-ass brat and hank has always appreciated that about him, how he's so full of life and ambition and purpose, and when he smiles it almost always reaches his eyes. it must have been a shit day for him, and yet look at him now. before long, he's turning into the suburbs where his house is. it's a proper, sensible house, and when he parks in the garage and kills the engine, he meets his eyes. ]
You can cook?
[ most boys his age aren't great in the kitchen, hank knows that -- he was one of those guys, but then adulthood happened and cooking just about became a necessity if you get sick of pizza and takeout every day. the idea of having connor cook for him, though, just about hits him somewhere in his heart and the pit of his stomach. this pretty young man in his kitchen, whipping up food for him, and he has to scrub away the hundreds of filthy little images that pop up in his mind after that. oh, hell. he really shouldn't have jacked off to him tonight.
he's inviting him into his home. it's neat, comfortably middle-class, and sumo the dog barks a greeting, trundling over to sniff at connor and to lick his hand. ]
I mean I'm not a chef, but I can do the basics. ( he shrugs like it's nothing – which to him it is, honestly. he'd been encouraged to cook his own meals almost immediately, both to learn the skill and to 'foster independence'. ) I can have a look at what you have, figure something out.
( when connor walks in, his attention immediately goes to sumo. for a moment there it's like hank doesn't exist, connor drops to his knees in front of the dog and starts scratching behind his ears and cooing typical dog talk at him. he's beaming, unashamedly delighted when he leans in to practically hug the dog and give him a good rub all along the back.
sumo's head flops heavily on connor's shoulder, and he decides there and then that he's going to have to stay in this exact position forever. )
Oh shush, he is behaving. Look at him, he's the best dog out.
( connor's only met sumo a handful of times when hank has brought the dog to the garage, but it's safe to say that he adores the dog. connor's little apartment is far too small and run down for anything bigger than a fish, but he loves animals. connor doesn't stand back up until sumo loses interest and ambles back over in hank's direction, and once he stands he pulls back a little. more of his usual persona slipping up again – casual, unbothered, definitely look grinning like a loon over a dog hugging him. that's not cool at all.
now that he's inside he unzips his suit. he has clothes in his bag, but he's got some basic covering underneath to keep him decent at least. he's wearing a plain black vest underneath, but he stops peeling it off when it sits at his hips. all he has to cover his bottom half is some tight boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination.
denial is a lot harder when standing in their house on display like that. so he'll definitely keep his suit at his waist until he has time to get changed. )
[ to his everlasting shame, hank is distracted by connor's distraction. the way he so easily draws closer towards the dog, animated and young, so very young. sumo likes him, hank can tell, and the dog shamelessly draws close and it's not hard to imagine connor here as a fixture in his quiet, empty home, bringing light and laughter into it. it's easy to imagine him here for more than a day, and hank has to force himself to look away.
it is short-lived, however, when connor unzips his suit, revealing that firm, solid chest and those arms, the vest that clings to him and the way that suit hugs his ass. he'd thought of that when he'd jerked him off, when hank would pull the zipper all the way down and almost tear it open to sink his cock deep inside him, to impale this lovely boy on his dick and fuck him so thoroughly he'd forget his name.
shit.
denial definitely is a lot harder when connor's standing in front of him like this, and hank practically has to wrench himself away, hating himself all the more. there is definitely more to connor than meets the eye, he knows, but he isn't going to get anywhere if his dick keeps barging into this matter. ]
Here.
[ he crosses over to a modestly decorated kitchen. there aren't very many things on the counter; it's more or less pristine, even if some pots and pans haven't been properly put away from the drying rack yet. the spices are neatly arranged, and hank goes over to the fridge, opening it to reveal it half-stocked. ]
I've got beef patties, and buns. Up for a burger or two?
( connor quickly moves to grab his bag before following hank, slung over his shoulder as he hurries after him. when they're in the kitchen he peers over the man's shoulder to get a look at the fridge. it looks a lot like his, honestly, albeit with more booze. )
Or two. ( appetite of a teenager horse, this one has. ) Done. You sit down, I've got it.
( he quickly slips around hank to reach the fridge, a little closer to hank's side than he'd like as he stretches to grab the burgers, but as quickly as he's pressed to the man's side he's gone again. over to the oven, where he deposits the patties before looking around. drying rack, there's a pan, and he grins as he grabs it. )
See, I'm already settled in to your kitchen. Go on, seriously. You've done enough tonight, let me do this for you.
( he sort of stumbles around the last two words, like they slip out before he means them to, and connor coughs to cover his mistake as he turns back to the stove top to place the pan down. back to hank it's easier to focus, and soon he's drizzled oil in the pan and has the patties sizzling. )
Stay that side, I just need to get out of my suit.
( hank is on the other side of the island now, so connor quickly slips the suit off of his hips and down his legs. it's tight, but it slides off easily and he kicks his boots off before stepping out. he's resolutely ignoring the fact that he's standing in hank's kitchen in tiny boxer briefs and a figure hugging vest, instead diving his hand into his bag for the jeans he's left in there. )
[ okay, so, a lot of really sexy things are happening all at once that are just about to have his brain short out, chiefly, the fact that connor just brushed past him, smooth and warm and sending sparks down his spine and a whirlwind of thoughts, so much of them inappropriate on the heels of his forbidden lust for the young man. secondly, the fact that he's in his kitchen cooking up burger patties like he's always belonged there, and the fact that he's doing this "for him" and jesus mary and joseph he is going to fucking kill him with this.
another one: he's taking his uniform off and is in his kitchen in tiny boxer briefs and hank can see everything -- from the shape of his cock to the tightness of that ass to those long legs and he swallows hard. god, okay, he has to be less of a pervert. he turns away politely, fighting not to let on how turned on he is. no, connor is just being kind, and hank damn well better not fuck this up.
he's heading over to the mini-fridge then, a lump in his throat. no, he has to think about something else. ]
( there's a point where connor realises just how much hank can see and he slows his actions, mouth dry, but then hank turns and connor.....is disappointed. no he isn't, he's not disappointed, he's just – he's relieved that he has the privacy to pull his jeans up without being watched. relieved. that's definitely what he's feeling right now.
it's getting really fucking hard to ignore this little massive stupid crush of his.
once his jeans are done up he gathers up his suit, bag and boots, and he settles them all on a stray chair nearest to the kitchen. when he's back he shakes the frying pan quickly a couple of times before leaning back against a counter, arms folding loosely over his chest as his attention returns to hank. )
I don't not drink. ( he shrugs, helpfully leaving out that whole part where he technically can't drink yet. his ID says otherwise, and he's not been denied goods or services with it yet. ) Why, you offering something?
[ he doesn't not drink -- and if there's anything that makes him pause it's that. it's really an indirect way of telling him he does, isn't it? ah, well. he chalks it up to connor being cheeky, and brings out a light beer for him. he's been cutting back, these days, so the light ones are often better for him.
he sets the beers on the counter, cold and pleasant, and pops one for himself, taking a long drink and leans against it, studying him. connor has on jeans, now, and he watches him, meeting his gaze. ]
I got a buddy, he's abstained for the past couple years. Said it was against his new girlfriend's religion.
( connor takes his own drink, opening it up after hank before settling back to his spot, hip resting against the counter and one arm half folded over his chest. he's not quite as seasoned a beer drinker as hank, his own mouthful is smaller and slower by comparison, but it's certainly not his first beer. not even his first light beer, either.
under hank's gaze he wants to move, check the burgers, start getting buns ready – anything really, because being the sole focus of hank's attention is intense in a way he really doesn't know how to define. hank just watches him, and connor does his best not to squirm under his eyes, not entirely convinced that the man can't see right through him.
hank's definitely the person connor has been the most honest with in this city by a long shot, but even that involves a fair amount of lying. and then of course there's that whole...'in denial about being super interested in hank' thing, but that hardly counts as a lie, right? )
Wow, that's weird. Was he a big drinker before? ( stranger things have happened than a person abstaining from something for the sake of love, but the concept still strikes connor as bizarre. he's not sure he could be so self-sacrificing, if the moment came to choose between something he loved and the person he loved. ) Not sure I could do it, honestly.
[ hank makes a small sound of amusement, because he would do anything to skirt the lust he's feeling for this young man in his kitchen, who manages to look even more comely in those tight jeans and god, he really must be a perverted fucker. he's focusing on the beer and definitely not on the curve of those lips, the little sips he takes.
he looks away now, looking for something, anything to do instead of being a creep because the last thing he wants to do is creep connor out and it'll all be over, whatever this is. after all, connor trusts him, right? he needs to prove himself worthy of that trust. so he pets sumo, who comes ambling up to him, as if sensing his master's inner distress. ]
Give up something that's such a huge part of my life, for someone else. ( he shrugs, sips the beer, tips his head back slightly as he swallows, licks his lips when he brings the bottle down.
he's not flirting. this isn't flirting, he's just drinking. this is how people drink beer, he's not changing his behaviour just because he's around a guy he might possibly have a huge crush on. and he doesn't have a crush, anyway. ) Like, I know it's a different level, but if someone asked me to quit racing for them– I wouldn't be able to do that.
( connor sets the beer down long enough to turn off the burner on the stove top, shaking the pan a little before moving it over to the cool side of the stove top. just casually focusing on the food to avoid all of– that. talking about relationship drama like he has any fucking clue, it's ridiculous. he's showing off for hank, there's no denying that – he desperately wants the man to think he's older, more experienced, more knowledgeable, all that bullshit.
but he doesn't have a crush. sure. ) Ready to eat?
[ this is totally not flirting, totally not, and hank is not sinfully, achingly attracted to him. except he is, and he observes the way connor puts on an act, like he's older than he is the way teenagers do, and he feels a throb of desire, a sharp want spike through him. connor is so very young, so very beautiful, and he watches how his adams apple bobs when he swallows the beer, the soft pink flash of his tongue.
god, he's fucked. hank forces himself to look away, to help out with the buns. he's taking them out from the package, sliding out the sliced cheese from the fridge and puts them on the bread, ready for the patties. he wonders if connor knows that by saying that, he'd pretty much just essentially marked his own age -- that's something someone young would say, and he only smiles, wry and small.
he's seen way too much, but he likes this anyway. ]
Never say never. One day, that might just happen.
[ connor might love someone more than racing -- and that's okay, too. ] Here, put 'em on. I'll have you know that those burger patties are made with my special recipe.
( it's all very in sync and harmonious, the way they get the food ready. it's got to be pushing four AM by now but connor doesn't care. he's spending time with hank, and that alone is worth the sleep deprivation. ...as a friend of course, the man works on his bike, tunes it to perfection, and connor is essentially putting his life in the older man's hands. if something goes wrong at the speeds he races at, even the best suits and helmets couldn't save him. connor is putting a phenomenal amount of trust in hank's work, and the man has never let him down.
also, he's really hungry now.
he smiles as they set it all up, hank prepping the buns and connor sliding the patties into place. he takes his plate and moves to the island counter, standing as he starts to wolf down the first burger. it stops him from responding for a while, more focused on devouring the food in front of him than anything else, but once he's a good two thirds into the first he starts to consider a response. and ever the eloquent one, connor just shrugs. )
Maybe, ( he says once he's finished burger number one. ) maybe I'd want someone that loved all of me. Not just the bits that they preferred.
( maybe that's too much to ask for, maybe his optimism shows his age, maybe he's not the one to talk about love when he's never even been in a real committed relationship before. but a guy can hope, right? )
Also, ( he's already starting on burger number two, and this time he's talking with his mouth half full, but he's still managing to grin as he speaks. ) these are fucking great. Seriously. What do you put in them? Or is it an Anderson secret?
[ oh, that is so sweet, and that is exactly what a teenager would say and hank feels like a filthy old man who should be too old for this, but here they are. connor tells him what he really would like to find in a person, and hank thinks that it's easy to love him for everything that he is.
his mouth is dry, just a little, and he's taking his own burger, thoughtfully chewing through it instead of wrecking it like a damn hurricane like what connor's doing. it's quite something, watching him, and he can't help but smile briefly. ]
A little salt, pepper, and some steak sauce. You have no idea how delicious that shit is when you put them together.
[ what's wrong with telling him, right? he's pleased that connor likes the patties -- maybe it means he'll come over more often, who knows? ]
Well, I'm sure you'll find that person. [ he says at length. ] It's not hard for someone to do that.
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god, connor is so young.
he swallows a lump in his throat, the tightening in his chest and pretends he isn't a giant pervert sweet on someone half his age. ]
It happens.
[ he adds, when connor looks back at him again. perhaps he's looking for comfort, although hank is probably the least qualified person to do that. ] And yeah, I'll have her good as new for you before the week is out.
[ he clicks his teeth at him, unable to help a disgruntled little noise. ] You know that even legends lose sometimes, right?
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no, he's not. )
You're the best.
( it's not flattery, it's the truth. hank knows his bike as well as connor, maybe better, and if hank says that he'll have it ready in time then connor whole heartedly believes it will be ready before the week is out. he knows his stuff.
but the legends comment sticks, and connor stops shifting around to look at the older man instead. his head tilts, not an unusual gesture but slightly out of place without the curious look in his eyes. now it's just...a little confusion in his eyes. a little wry twist to his smile. a little frustration furrowing his brows. )
I'm not a legend. ( he says, looking over to the truck instead. something about the moment breaks and the restlessness is back again. he's working his hands together now, clasped in front of him and rubbing one another together. not quite as fretful as hand-wringing would be, but somewhere in that ball park.
he doesn't want to elaborate, he decides very quickly. he doesn't want to open up to hank and have the man see him for who he is. he doesn't want hank to look at him with scorn and derision. he doesn't want hank to look at him with affection and fierce protectiveness.
he wants to get in the truck. ) Are we going, then?
( he's already heading to the passenger seat and hauling himself up into the seat. )
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[ hank grunts, locking up and securing the bike to the back of his pickup; can't have this beauty rolling around, right? but he's paying attention to connor's reactions, his body language, the mood that he desperately tries to hide, thrumming away under his skin. hank sees more than he lets on, see; he's already noticed a lot about connor, about how he approaches him, that perfectionist streak a mile wide and yet when he's in trouble, hank's the one he calls.
connor is restless, secretive, and something inside him shuts down at hank's comment, and he privately wonders if he's said the wrong thing. he doesn't push the point; it's late as hell, it's cold as balls, and they have a place to go home to. connor would have to stay the night at his place, and hank is trying very hard not to think of that as he climbs into the driver's seat and starts the car again.
he's driving for a few quiet minutes when he eventually speaks up. ]
Eaten anything yet?
[ the kid might be a pain in his ass and the unwitting star of a growing amount of his wet dreams, but hank has to look out for him, too. ]
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he considers a scenario where they have to share a bed. and then he very much doesn't. this might well be hell.
when hank breaks the silence connor looks over him, and then relaxes back in the seat and puts his feet up on the dashboard, a slightly cocky grin on his face as he shrugs. )
Ever? Yeah. ( he pulls out his phone to check the time, and visibly winces when he sees the time on the display. it's late. ) It's uh...been a while, yeah.
( there's definitely no warm little feeling in his chest at the thought that hank might possibly care. )
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[ hank's dressing down comes swift and sharp, but he isn't angry even as they make their way back to his place, what with hank fighting very hard not to feel like some sort of pedophile. connor's going to have to stay over; and hank is going to have this boy in his house, and his mind is already coming up with different scenarios, every one of them roundly rejected for the sake of decency.
but at least connor's got a little of his spirit back, and he ends up shaking his head anyway. he's got food at home, and he'll have to cook it a little, but at least connor will have had something to eat, this idiot. he really must be taking the loss a lot worse than he's letting on. ]
Anything you're allergic to?
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( connor very much does not take his feet off the dashboard, despite the affirmative response and little pointing gesture he makes at hank along with said response.
he feels compelled to remind hank of his age – his bullshit one, of course, the one his ID clearly states despite hank thinking it is horse shit – for a reason he can't quite identify. just to put it out there. that he's not a child – true even without the fake ID – that he's very much a competent adult of legal age and–
and something. nothing. he doesn't follow that train of thought, just looks out of the passenger window as they drive. doesn't hurt that it's still dark, meaning that hank's image is reflected in the glass almost perfectly. even though he's not looking at the man, connor makes a point not to look around the eyes of the reflection. lord knows the last thing he wants is to be caught awkwardly staring. )
Penicillin, but if that comes up in your food then we're going to have problems. ( connor grins slightly, not the silly smirk but an actual amused expression, he can't help himself. he also can't help when he breaks his eyes from the window to look back over at the man driving as well. just for a minute.
it's rude not to look at the person you're talking to, right? ) I can cook. You know, if you want. You've already done enough for me tonight.
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You can cook?
[ most boys his age aren't great in the kitchen, hank knows that -- he was one of those guys, but then adulthood happened and cooking just about became a necessity if you get sick of pizza and takeout every day. the idea of having connor cook for him, though, just about hits him somewhere in his heart and the pit of his stomach. this pretty young man in his kitchen, whipping up food for him, and he has to scrub away the hundreds of filthy little images that pop up in his mind after that. oh, hell. he really shouldn't have jacked off to him tonight.
he's inviting him into his home. it's neat, comfortably middle-class, and sumo the dog barks a greeting, trundling over to sniff at connor and to lick his hand. ]
Behave, Sumo.
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( when connor walks in, his attention immediately goes to sumo. for a moment there it's like hank doesn't exist, connor drops to his knees in front of the dog and starts scratching behind his ears and cooing typical dog talk at him. he's beaming, unashamedly delighted when he leans in to practically hug the dog and give him a good rub all along the back.
sumo's head flops heavily on connor's shoulder, and he decides there and then that he's going to have to stay in this exact position forever. )
Oh shush, he is behaving. Look at him, he's the best dog out.
( connor's only met sumo a handful of times when hank has brought the dog to the garage, but it's safe to say that he adores the dog. connor's little apartment is far too small and run down for anything bigger than a fish, but he loves animals. connor doesn't stand back up until sumo loses interest and ambles back over in hank's direction, and once he stands he pulls back a little. more of his usual persona slipping up again – casual, unbothered, definitely look grinning like a loon over a dog hugging him. that's not cool at all.
now that he's inside he unzips his suit. he has clothes in his bag, but he's got some basic covering underneath to keep him decent at least. he's wearing a plain black vest underneath, but he stops peeling it off when it sits at his hips. all he has to cover his bottom half is some tight boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination.
denial is a lot harder when standing in their house on display like that. so he'll definitely keep his suit at his waist until he has time to get changed. )
So, uh. Kitchen?
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it is short-lived, however, when connor unzips his suit, revealing that firm, solid chest and those arms, the vest that clings to him and the way that suit hugs his ass. he'd thought of that when he'd jerked him off, when hank would pull the zipper all the way down and almost tear it open to sink his cock deep inside him, to impale this lovely boy on his dick and fuck him so thoroughly he'd forget his name.
shit.
denial definitely is a lot harder when connor's standing in front of him like this, and hank practically has to wrench himself away, hating himself all the more. there is definitely more to connor than meets the eye, he knows, but he isn't going to get anywhere if his dick keeps barging into this matter. ]
Here.
[ he crosses over to a modestly decorated kitchen. there aren't very many things on the counter; it's more or less pristine, even if some pots and pans haven't been properly put away from the drying rack yet. the spices are neatly arranged, and hank goes over to the fridge, opening it to reveal it half-stocked. ]
I've got beef patties, and buns. Up for a burger or two?
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Or two. ( appetite of a
teenagerhorse, this one has. ) Done. You sit down, I've got it.( he quickly slips around hank to reach the fridge, a little closer to hank's side than he'd like as he stretches to grab the burgers, but as quickly as he's pressed to the man's side he's gone again. over to the oven, where he deposits the patties before looking around. drying rack, there's a pan, and he grins as he grabs it. )
See, I'm already settled in to your kitchen. Go on, seriously. You've done enough tonight, let me do this for you.
( he sort of stumbles around the last two words, like they slip out before he means them to, and connor coughs to cover his mistake as he turns back to the stove top to place the pan down. back to hank it's easier to focus, and soon he's drizzled oil in the pan and has the patties sizzling. )
Stay that side, I just need to get out of my suit.
( hank is on the other side of the island now, so connor quickly slips the suit off of his hips and down his legs. it's tight, but it slides off easily and he kicks his boots off before stepping out. he's resolutely ignoring the fact that he's standing in hank's kitchen in tiny boxer briefs and a figure hugging vest, instead diving his hand into his bag for the jeans he's left in there. )
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another one: he's taking his uniform off and is in his kitchen in tiny boxer briefs and hank can see everything -- from the shape of his cock to the tightness of that ass to those long legs and he swallows hard. god, okay, he has to be less of a pervert. he turns away politely, fighting not to let on how turned on he is. no, connor is just being kind, and hank damn well better not fuck this up.
he's heading over to the mini-fridge then, a lump in his throat. no, he has to think about something else. ]
Hey, you drink?
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it's getting really fucking hard to ignore this little
massivestupid crush of his.once his jeans are done up he gathers up his suit, bag and boots, and he settles them all on a stray chair nearest to the kitchen. when he's back he shakes the frying pan quickly a couple of times before leaning back against a counter, arms folding loosely over his chest as his attention returns to hank. )
I don't not drink. ( he shrugs, helpfully leaving out that whole part where he technically can't drink yet. his ID says otherwise, and he's not been denied goods or services with it yet. ) Why, you offering something?
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he sets the beers on the counter, cold and pleasant, and pops one for himself, taking a long drink and leans against it, studying him. connor has on jeans, now, and he watches him, meeting his gaze. ]
I got a buddy, he's abstained for the past couple years. Said it was against his new girlfriend's religion.
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under hank's gaze he wants to move, check the burgers, start getting buns ready – anything really, because being the sole focus of hank's attention is intense in a way he really doesn't know how to define. hank just watches him, and connor does his best not to squirm under his eyes, not entirely convinced that the man can't see right through him.
hank's definitely the person connor has been the most honest with in this city by a long shot, but even that involves a fair amount of lying. and then of course there's that whole...'in denial about being super interested in hank' thing, but that hardly counts as a lie, right? )
Wow, that's weird. Was he a big drinker before? ( stranger things have happened than a person abstaining from something for the sake of love, but the concept still strikes connor as bizarre. he's not sure he could be so self-sacrificing, if the moment came to choose between something he loved and the person he loved. ) Not sure I could do it, honestly.
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[ hank makes a small sound of amusement, because he would do anything to skirt the lust he's feeling for this young man in his kitchen, who manages to look even more comely in those tight jeans and god, he really must be a perverted fucker. he's focusing on the beer and definitely not on the curve of those lips, the little sips he takes.
he looks away now, looking for something, anything to do instead of being a creep because the last thing he wants to do is creep connor out and it'll all be over, whatever this is. after all, connor trusts him, right? he needs to prove himself worthy of that trust. so he pets sumo, who comes ambling up to him, as if sensing his master's inner distress. ]
Could do what? Not have beer?
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he's not flirting. this isn't flirting, he's just drinking. this is how people drink beer, he's not changing his behaviour just because he's around a guy he might possibly have a huge crush on. and he doesn't have a crush, anyway. ) Like, I know it's a different level, but if someone asked me to quit racing for them– I wouldn't be able to do that.
( connor sets the beer down long enough to turn off the burner on the stove top, shaking the pan a little before moving it over to the cool side of the stove top. just casually focusing on the food to avoid all of– that. talking about relationship drama like he has any fucking clue, it's ridiculous. he's showing off for hank, there's no denying that – he desperately wants the man to think he's older, more experienced, more knowledgeable, all that bullshit.
but he doesn't have a crush. sure. ) Ready to eat?
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god, he's fucked. hank forces himself to look away, to help out with the buns. he's taking them out from the package, sliding out the sliced cheese from the fridge and puts them on the bread, ready for the patties. he wonders if connor knows that by saying that, he'd pretty much just essentially marked his own age -- that's something someone young would say, and he only smiles, wry and small.
he's seen way too much, but he likes this anyway. ]
Never say never. One day, that might just happen.
[ connor might love someone more than racing -- and that's okay, too. ] Here, put 'em on. I'll have you know that those burger patties are made with my special recipe.
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also, he's really hungry now.
he smiles as they set it all up, hank prepping the buns and connor sliding the patties into place. he takes his plate and moves to the island counter, standing as he starts to wolf down the first burger. it stops him from responding for a while, more focused on devouring the food in front of him than anything else, but once he's a good two thirds into the first he starts to consider a response. and ever the eloquent one, connor just shrugs. )
Maybe, ( he says once he's finished burger number one. ) maybe I'd want someone that loved all of me. Not just the bits that they preferred.
( maybe that's too much to ask for, maybe his optimism shows his age, maybe he's not the one to talk about love when he's never even been in a real committed relationship before. but a guy can hope, right? )
Also, ( he's already starting on burger number two, and this time he's talking with his mouth half full, but he's still managing to grin as he speaks. ) these are fucking great. Seriously. What do you put in them? Or is it an Anderson secret?
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his mouth is dry, just a little, and he's taking his own burger, thoughtfully chewing through it instead of wrecking it like a damn hurricane like what connor's doing. it's quite something, watching him, and he can't help but smile briefly. ]
A little salt, pepper, and some steak sauce. You have no idea how delicious that shit is when you put them together.
[ what's wrong with telling him, right? he's pleased that connor likes the patties -- maybe it means he'll come over more often, who knows? ]
Well, I'm sure you'll find that person. [ he says at length. ] It's not hard for someone to do that.
[ yeah, he's just going to leave that vague. ]