Chapter 1
Maybe Hank had slightly overreacted.
In his defence, he was tired from nights spent in overdrive in the lab, from trial and error that mostly ended in the error bit. So, he kind of went off on Logan when he made a not-so-friendly remark about how tired the doctor looked as soon as he walked into the kitchen.
“Well, nice a’ Big Blue to finally join us,” he had grunted with a smug look in Hank’s direction. He was sitting at the table with a coffee in hand, in the same stained white tank top as he always wore. Maybe he had a bunch of white tank tops, all the same. Did he buy them pre-stained just to look cool? Hank could picture opening his closet to a whole row of stained white tank-tops, jeans, and tight flannels like he was a cartoon character.
Marie scoffed, barely acknowledging Logan’s words, not looking up from her book. Scott just rolled his eyes, sipping his own drink. Hank, who had been pouring a cup of coffee for himself after pulling his second all nighter, huffed a sound of disapproval. Logan hadn’t taken his eyes off of him grinning in that smug, teasing way.
“C’mon, kid, don’ be too pressed, ‘m kidding,” Logan snorted, taking another sip of his coffee.
So maybe this was where Hank was in the wrong.
He saw red. He was done with this bullshit, this was not the right day to have Logan fucking with him. He was tired and stressed, and he didn’t want to deal with some cocky, smug dick.
Hank slammed down his coffee cup, and turned around.
“If you’re done now, I’ll be going back to the lab, where I have spent the past- what? Seventy-two hours? Trying to make up some shit for you, you ungrateful fucking prick. So, I’m gonna be on my way now. Is that alright with you? I’m only asking since you wanna sound like someone’s dad.”
There was a shocked silence from everyone in the room while Hank waited patronisingly. Logan had frozen staring at Hank with a nervous twitch in his suddenly tapping pinky on the table.. Marie was pretending to read, but her eyes were wide as she stared unseeing at the page. Scott was frozen, coffee halfway to his mouth.
“Thought so. I’ll be going now, let me know when you feel like dropping the fucking attitude,” he snapped.
Hank snatched up his coffee, and stomped his way out down to the lab. Once he got to his destination, he slammed down his mug, and promptly broke down, collapsing into his chair with a sob.
He had a headache behind his eyes, his fur was matted and tangled everywhere, his glasses were lost in one of the messes of papers on one of his lab benches, and he hadn’t changed since he spilled some chemical on himself about thirty seven hours ago. He was sweaty and smelly and stressed, and fuck,why did he have to work in a school with no alcohol permitted?
But Hank had shit to do. He had to finish a million and a half suits (it was four), and at the same time trying to find a reverse serum, since the original one had left him with disproportionately human teeth and nails that he was trying to fix. He pressed his face into his large blue hands, and tried to breathe while all that escaped him were dry sobs.
Yeah, maybe he was being a dick. But also, he had a reason. An understandable explanation.
Logan was just a dick because he could be.
There was a goddamn difference.
Someone knocked on the metal frame of the door. Hank jerked himself out of it, and looked up with a glare.
Logan, goddammit.
He looked shaky, and- much more normal- like he’d been run over by an eighteen wheeler.
“What?” Hank spat, or at least attempted to. It didn’t sound as angry as he would’ve liked because of the way his voice fell flat and tired.
Dammit.
Logan cleared his throat, hands shoved in his pockets as he meandered his way into the lab. He looked up at some of the bigger projects, the jets and generators. He stopped in front of Hank’s chair. Close enough that Hank could pick out every stain on his white tank top. He wondered again if he bought his tank tops like that, or if he strategically spilled stuff on himself somehow. Logan finally looked the doctor in the eyes.
“I uh- Just, uh, wanted to uh- apologise. Didn’t uh- Mean t’make y’a upset. Didn’t realise how- ahem, how much y’were workin’. So. ‘m sorry.”
His voice was gruff, but sincere.
Hank couldn’t control it, and started brushing fast-falling tears away from his eyes. His throat felt clogged, and eyes burned a bit.
“Yeah. Alright,” his voice cracked so hard he winced.
“Do uh-” Logan looked away. “Do y’need a hug?” he asked in a gruff voice, looking up at the ceiling. His hands were still firmly in his pockets.
Hank closed his eyes and took a long shaky breath.
Logan sniffed awkwardly.
“Ah- Yeah. That would be nice,” Hank answered quietly, opening his eyes, and blinking away more tears as he stood up.
Logan looked up at him, and awkwardly held out his arms, glancing up at his face back to the wall behind him a few times. Hank walked into them, pressing his face immediately into Logan’s shoulder as he did. Logan’s arms closed around his ribs, a pleasant pressure. Hank wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders, breathing deeply. He smelled like cigars and black coffee, but was warm as all hell.
His shirt didn’t smell bad. Hank was convinced he was buying them like that now.
After a moment, Hank thought it was safe to cry a bit there, letting himself cry silently into Logan’s shoulder while normally rough fingers combed gently through his fur. They stayed like that for a while, a nice while where Logan hummed lowly, and Hank felt the vibrations against him from his chest. He couldn’t tell what he was humming, it was quiet. Then Logan cleared his throat.
“Y’need a shower. Y’smell like shit,” Logan mumbled.
“Mhm. Did Marie put you up to this?” Hank asked quietly, muffled by his friend’s shoulders. Thanks to wonderful mutational hearing, Hank didn’t have to repeat himself, and Logan shook his head.
“Nah. Just- I felt bad,” Logan responded gruffly, squeezing him slightly. The increased pressure let Hank relax a little more.
He really didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t, and he closed his eyes again. After another moment, Logan stepped back gently, still with one hand on his lower back.
“Get offa me, Puffball, you gotta shower,” he muttered, brushing something off Hank’s shoulder so they didn’t have to make eye contact while he pulled both his hands back. Hank took an awkward step backward, tucking his hands behind his back.
“Alright. Yeah- yes.”
“Then get some sleep. Y’re gonna burn y’self out,” Logan cleared his throat, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he started to meander backwards towards the doorway.
“See you,” Hank said quietly, awkwardly, like he didn’t want to leave.
“Yup. See y’a, Blue,” Logan mumbled, turning around and walking away. He only looked back once, then flushed a bit, and went quicker when he realised Hank was still watching him go.
When he was gone, Hank brushed away the few tears left, taking a long deep breath, psyching himself up for that shower.
Shit, that was nice.