Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun is high and blinding, warming your skin as you sip on the straw of your slushy. Sitting on your towel in a bathing suit, surrounded by a crowd rippling with cheers, you’re struggling to contain your excitement as you wait for your boyfriends’ turns. 

As soon as you had realized the Hanks, they had whisked you out of the house to explore the world. All of the other objects had already been realized and left to build a life for themselves, so you did not hesitate to sell the house and use the money to start your life anew. 

And what a crazy whirlwind of a life it is. 

As professional daredevils, the Hanks are famous on the internet for their crazy antics and charismatic personalities. They regularly participate into extreme sports competitions and collaborate with professional athletes, and you always get somehow roped into it.

Today you’re attending the World Surf League’s Open Competition in California. A handful of surfers have already shown off their talents, but your were too excited to properly be paying attention. The Hanks’ cameraman gives you a friendly wave as he readies his camera, and soon their names are being called. Finally.

Hank #2 is the first called, he jogs confidently in his skin tight wetsuit, his board tucked under his arm. The man looks like he came out of a Baywatch movie, and you suppress a giggle when you see his eyes search for yours in the crowd. Once he finds you he smiles brightly and waves. 

He executes each trick flawlessly, and the crowd’s excitement swells when he suddenly kicks his board, sending it flying towards the sky as he grabs the rail of it like he’s flying. Suddenly his feet reconnect with the board and he lands perfectly in the curve of the wave.

“Splendid aerial maneuver!” The commentator says in his mic, and you clap and whistle loudly.

Juggling five boyfriends could be a challenge, but you’ve found a way to make it work. The Hanks are rarely jealous of each other. They share your love and attention without a complaint, and are happy as long as you’re happy.

Unfortunately, their competitiveness tends to bleed into your dynamics as members of a love hexagon. 

They are always challenging each other, whether it is fending for your attention, or electing who you find the most attractive, the funniest, the best in bed, everything was a competition and they were always trying their hardest to win.

From the sidelines the others Hanks watch Hank #2 emerge from the water and flash you a confident smirk. When they see your cheeks flush sweetly they know it’s on.

Hank #3 is next, and he barely even pays attention to the camera as he tries his best to impress you. He spins, jumps, kicks the board while riding wave after wave.  The audience is clapping and screaming his name, but his eyes are only on you, hoping to catch a reaction.

When he returns to the beach he pointedly unzips the top part of his wetsuit to tie the sleeves around his waist, revealing his toned chest. He runs a hand through his wet hair, drops of water running down his chest, and when he catches you shamelessly staring he winks, your lips curl in a smirk when you catch onto his ploy.

Hank #3 hears an indignant squawk as he returns to the bleachers. “That’s cheating!” Hank #4 cries. 

“Suck it, losers.” The grin he’s sporting is so smug even Hank #5 is starting to get annoyed. “Well, I’d rather she was the one doing the suck–”

“Move, bro.” Hank #5 snaps as he shoulder bumps him, Hank #3 snickers as he watches his brother-from-another-closet stomp away angrily to grab his surfing board. 

Hank #5 stares at you with a longing look, straddling his board while he waits for a bigger wave to form. As usual when you see him you grin that adorable giga-watt smile that blinds him, and he responds by making a heart with his hands and mouthing the words I love you. 

You hear some people giggle and fawn, and you shyly hide your flushed face behind your hands.

“Oh the little–” Hank #3 grits his teeth. 

When Hank #5 is done, he barely has time to set foot on the beach before a blonde storm zips past him and into the water.

“Hank #4, it’s not your turn!” The commentator yells in the microphone, but your golden retriever of a boyfriend is not even listening. Everybody watches in amusement as he rushes to jump on his board, almost falling in the water but righting himself in time, and he carelessly throws himself and the board in the first wave he sees. 

“BABE! BABE! BABE!” He calls loudly as he rides the hollow of a wave. His chipped tooth on full display. “ARE YOU LOOKING? YOU’RE LOOKING, RIGHT? HI BABE!”

The rest of the crowd curiously looks around for who he’s talking to and the cameraman throws you an amused glance as he films Hank #4. You wish the beach was made of quicksand so it could swallow you whole. 

“Hard to catch a break with all five of them fighting for your attention all the time, uh?”

Your eyes meet the ones of the manager. Chris is in his late thirties, a pure product of California with tan skin and sun-bleached hair. He has been there for them since the start, helping them build a brand and a community. He’s always believed in your boys and helped them rise, which you’re grateful for, even if sometimes he can be a bit… much.

“They can be a lot, yeah.” You laugh fondly. 

“ ‘You having fun?” He asks, and you nod. Chris is uncomfortably close, and you try not to cringe away when his shoulder brushes against yours. He’s strangely touchy feely, and you never got used to it, but you choose not to make a fuss about it.

“Y… yeah.” You clear your throat awkwardly. “They’re doing great.”

Chris nods in approval. “They worked hard. I’m confident Hank #2 is going to be on the podium.”

Hank #1 is next to go and, as the biggest show off of the group, he instantly throws himself into a backflip as he waves at the crowd, who reacts with ‘oooh’s in amazement. Yet when his brown eyes land on you, he finds his girlfriend speaking with his manager instead of looking at him.

And then Chris lifts a hand to tuck a wet strand of hair behind your ear.

Hank #1 loses his footing, and falls in the water with a ‘oof!’. The collective gasp this triggers tears your attention away from Chris and you gape at your boyfriend. “Oh my god, Hank!”

The manager forgotten, you rush towards your boyfriend as he waddles out of the water. Worry eats at you as you check that he’s not injured, and you cringe when you notice the skin is a dark red around his shoulder.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Hank #1 reassures you, but you wrap him in your arms anyway, careful not to hurt him.

“Don’t scare me like that again!” You scold him, and he stifles a laugh as he pats your head affectionately. 

The rest of the Hanks watches from afar as you fuss over their brother. Feeling defeated despite Hank #1 being disqualified out of the competition. 

“Of course...” Hank #4 cries. “Why didn’t I think of injuring myself? Homie is a genius!”

***

Hank #1 can’t help but stew in his shame as he changes out of his wetsuit to put on clean, dry clothes. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does, but he can’t help but picture the tenderness with which Chris treated you, and his heart pinches with worry.

A large hand slapping his shoulder tears him out of his thoughts. “You good, broski?” Hank #3 asks him with a worried frown. “You took a nasty tumble.”

“Yeah, ‘been through worse.” He smiles weakly, and the rest of the team stares, unconvinced. 

“What happened?” Hank #5 says. 

He runs a hand through his braids. “It’s just… don’t you think Chris is getting a bit… too close to our house-babe ?” 

The Hanks seem to think about it for a few seconds. “He’s always been a friendly dude.” Hank #3 shrugs as he puts on his shirt.

“Yeah, but he’s extra friendly with her.” 

“You worried?” Hank #5 smirks from his seat on the bench, but when his brother remains serious his smile drops. “Oh, you are worried.”

“He is a bit… affectionate with her, yeah.” Hank #2 cringes. 

“No, not you too!” Hank #3 sighs. “Bros, we’re dating a smoke-show of a woman, why are you surprised guys are hitting on her?”

“Did she look uncomfortable?” Hank #5 asks, and Hank #1 shrugs.

“I dunno. But he’s a nice dude, and a real human. Not a former hanger with an adrenaline addiction. What if…” He trails off as he rubs his neck nervously, and after a heavy pause Hank #4 slams the door of his locker hard enough to startle the group.

The blonde throws his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s just ask him if he likes her.”

“Woah! woah! You’re not doing that.” Hank #2 grabs him by the scuff of his shirt. 

“Ugh, this is all my fault, forget about it.” Hank #1 sighs tiredly. “I’m sorry, homies.”

The tan hand of Hank #5 pats him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t apologize. We’re here for you. Our girl is not going to leave because some human is drooling over her.” 

“Yeah.” Hank #1 suddenly feels silly, he huffs an embarrassed laugh. “You’re right. But can you… keep this between us? I don’t wanna worry her.”

“Of course.” Hank #2 bumps his shoulder with his. 

“Aww guys…” Hanks #4 jumps on the pair. “Group hug!”

***

“House-babe!” Hank #4 jumps into your arms, and you yelp as your knees shake under his weight. He releases you to grin down at you, the gap between his teeth on display. “Did you see the Rodeo flip I did ?!” 

“Of course baby boy, how could I miss you with all of your screeching? You were amazing, by the way.” You say, and giggle when he covers your face with kisses.

“Let her breathe, damn.” Hank #5 sighs. 

“You were all incredible, congratulations for the win, Two.” You kiss the black haired man on the cheek, and he proudly brandishes his silver medal while the rest of the hanks explodes in a chorus of hoots and cheers.

Chris jogs towards your group as he flashes an easy smile. “You guys had fun?”

“It was gnarly !” They all replied in unison. 

“This is gnarly too.” Hank #3 purrs as one of his fingers slide under the shoulder strap of your bikini. “Such a tiny little piece of clothing. Is it a new one?”

You flush a pretty shade of pink as you avoid his gaze. “Y– yeah. Bought it this morning while you were doing the interviews.”

“I was a little sad you weren’t there, but know you’re absolutely forgiven.” He winks, and you slap his chest to chastise him for flirting openly in public. 

Chris clears his throat. “Anyway, we gotta celebrate this properly. Party at my house tonight?”

The Hanks’ manager always throws crazy parties, and you’ve stopped counting the number of times you’ve woken up completely hungover, either in his garden or on a floating bed in his pool. 

“Fuck yeah!” The Hanks reply, but you catch Hank #1 looking at you with a little frown. 

“You okay?” You whisper to him, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss behind your ear in reassurance.

“I’m great.” He says.

***

You’re applying the finishing touches to your makeup when a knock breaks your focus. 

“Sunshine, you ready?” All of your boyfriends’ voices sound eerily identical, but you recognize the nickname Hank #2 chose for you. 

“Coming !” You call over your shoulder, you swipe a coat of lip gloss and, satisfied with the image reflected in the mirror, you open the bathroom door and leave to get your bag.

Your himbos were gathered in a messy pile of limbs as they lounged on the bed waiting for you while talking animatedly amongst themselves and doing god knows what on their phones. 

“–And then I told him that–” Hank #3 pauses in the middle of his sentence when his eyes fall on you, he takes in the all black outfit you’re wearing, his eyes slide lower and land on…

The shortest.

Tiny-tiniest.

Itty bittiest. 

The most microscopic skirt he’s ever seen.

He makes a strangled sound, catching the attention of the others as they look up from their phones.

“Oh, you’re bad.” Hanks #1 says.

The others’ look like their jaws are about to hit the floor. You smirk as you do a little spin, and you swore you hear a couple of them groan. 

Hank #3 joins his hands in prayer as he looks towards the ceiling. His face is so red it matches the color of his curls. “Goddess of miniskirts, if you can hear me. Thank you for blessing the eyes of your most fervent follower.” 

“Ew, cringe.” The blonde kicks him out of the bed. 

“Ready to leave?” You ask, bending down to pick up your purse, and you smile to yourself when you hear a collective groan. 

“You’re forbidden from bending down tonight.” Hank #2 declares.

“I need a minute before getting up.” Hank #1 mutters with a pillow strategically placed on his lap.

You giggle in delight. Yeah, you loved riling them up. And it was a little payback for the way they neglected you the past few days because of their tight schedule. 

Finally they all manage to get up and you all followed Hank #1 out of the hotel room as he orders an Uber to take you to Chris’ beach house. 

You’re about to step foot outside when a strong arm wraps itself around your waist and pulls you against a hard chest. “Keep dressing like that and I’ll put a baby in you sooner than we’ve planned.” Hank #5 hisses in your ear as he digs his fingers into your hip. 

A shiver ran down your spine and you swallow thickly. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You manage to breathe out, and he growls as his big hand gives your rear a firm smack. 

“Start walking, babydoll.” He orders with a predatory smile, and you obey with trembling legs and you catch up with the others. 

You’re buzzing with excitement as you’re crammed in a van with your boys, their cheerfulness rubbing on you. You’re pressed between the muscular thighs of Hank #3 and Hank #1. Each one lays a hand on your leg and gives a possessive squeeze that makes you melt. 

“The first one to puke does the dishes for a week!” Hank #4 calls. 

“It’s not gonna be me, homies.” Hank #2 shrugs . “I’m staying sober tonight.”

The group lapses in silence as you all stare at him blankly.

“Ten dollars he’ll pass out in the bushes like last time.” You speak up, and Hank #5 reaches out to high five you. 

“Screw you guys!” Hank #2 cries in outrage.

After a ten-minute ride you finally arrive, you jump out of the van and smell the night air, fresh and charged with brine. You can hear music, singing and laughter from inside the house, and you let your dark skinned boyfriend tug you with him towards the front door.

The door open to reveal Chris, wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt almost open all the way and a cigar between his teeth. “Took you guys long enough!” 

His eyes fall on you, and his cigar nearly falls from his mouth, he recovers quickly and invites you all inside to get a drink.

“I’m just getting one beer!” Hank #2 says as he goes for the keg. “Just one!”

Hank #3 rolls his eyes. “Sure, buddy.”

You’re offered a glass of homemade punch, and you decide to mingle with the rest of the guests that you know from your boys’ job. Jade, a professional diving instructor you’re close with, beams when she sees you, and she leads you by the arm to introduce you to her friends.

An hour and three beers later later you catch Hank #4 doing a keg-stand while people chant “Hank! Hank! Hank!”. He almost loses his balance when he’s put back upright. He recovers miraculously, throws his hand in the the air and start screaming. “Hank is bitchin’!”

You walk past a shirtless Hank #2, and when he sees you looking at the full glass in his hand he blurts out. “It doesn’t count, it’s mostly soda!”

You snort. “Sure, babe.”

Spotting Chris at the bar, you throw him a smile as you go to refill your glass. You feel his gaze burns your skin and you try to brush the feeling away as you pour white wine in your glass. 

“Yo–…t -y.” You barely hear him over the music, so you reply with a half inebriated and elegant. “HUH?” 

He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can smell the thick scent of the cigar he has smoked.“You’re pretty tonight.” He says. 

“Er…Thanks.” You reply curtly, putting some distance between the two of you. Chris has been nothing but courteous and friendly for years, but for some reason he’s started looking at you differently recently. 

You repress a shiver when you suddenly feel his finger trace the small tattoo on the back of your shoulder. “Why a hanger?” He snorts in amusement, and you slap his hand away as you give him an angry look. 

“What the fuck, dude?” You snap, and he has the nerve to look flabbergasted by your outburst. 

You flee the scene to look for one of your boyfriends. You see Hank #5 sprawled in a couch as he plays a card game with a group of random guys, his glass of whiskey balanced precariously on his thigh. You fall on the cushion besides him with a huff, and his baby brown eyes are slightly unfocused as they scan you. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You smile reassuringly, he slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer until you’re sitting in his lap, his glass dangling from his fingers. The soothing, woodsy smell of his cologne wraps itself around you like a blanket, and you relax instantly. “Whatcha playing?”

“I’ve got no fucking clue.” He shrugs. “I just drink when they tell me to.” And you throw your head back to laugh. 

You join the card game, and thankfully you’re able to catch on to the rules easily. You decide to join forces with the other strangers to get Hank absolutely plastered. By the end of round four he’s falling asleep with his face pressed against your neck. Unfortunately you lost quite a few times too, and you can feel a nice buzz settling in your veins. 

You watch Hank #2 –now only in his socks and underwear– challenge a guy twice his size in an arm wrestling match, and Hank #1 yells encouragements behind him. “You’ve got this bro! The muscles in your arm don’t count, use the muscles in your mind!”

“Idiots.” You murmur fondly.

You disentangle yourself from the sleepy man, who immediately latches onto the next person. The victim being a very disgruntled surfer you recognize from the competition. 

As you go for the bathroom you feel like your legs are made of cotton. You stumble while going up the stairs and immediately a hand is here to steady you. “Woah!” Chris chuckles as he pulls you upright. “Easy, tiger.”

Everything feels fuzzy, and you clumsily try to push him away. “Hey. Hey.” He pacifies you as best as he can as he leads you down the stairs and towards his backyard. “I’m sorry for earlier. Can we talk? Some fresh air will do you some good.”

You step outside, and are greeted by the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea. You lean against the wall as you close your eyes and sighed deeply in relief. “Thank you.” You slur you words like your mouth is full of molasses. “Can you get one of the Hanks?”

“S’alright.” He smiles reassuringly. “I’m here, I’ll take care of you.”

“No!” You snap. Your head spins and you feel like you’re about to be sick. “I… I want my boyfriends!”

“I’m here!” He yells, and it shuts you up. You stare at him in surprise at his outburst. He sways a bit, eyes glassy with tears. “And you wouldn’t need four other guys with me, I promise you.” 

“Chris… What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t mean to catch feelings for you.” He starts pacing in front of you as he runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “But you’re always around with your tight little ass and your–” 

Alright, I’m out of here. You think, but Chris catches you as you try to flee. 

“Wait!” He cages you against the wall, and he traps your wrists to stop you from flailing. Genuine fear twists your guts as you open your mouth to scream, but he gathers your wrists in one hand and muffle you with the other. 

“Just let me show you…” He whispers, and you cringe when you feel his hot breath on your face, heavy with alcohol. 

He starts pressing kisses down your throat, and your scream is muffled as tears stain your cheeks. “Shhh.” He whispers. 

His knee slots itself between your legs, and before he could do anything more he is suddenly wrenched away from you. 

Hank #4’s usually soft and kind green eyes are wild with rage. He takes one quick look at you before he’s onto Chris again. He starts pummeling into the man with a violence you didn’t know he possessed. Chris does not even stand a chance and resorts to curling in a ball to protect himself as he takes the beating of his life.

You jump when you feel warm calloused hands pressed against your cheeks. “It’s just me.” Hank #5 murmurs soothingly, crouched to your level. That’s when you realize that you’ve fallen to your knees.

You burst into tears as he wraps you in a tight hug, gently rocking you like a child. The rest of the Hanks are already rushing to separate the two. 

“LET ME GO!” You hear Hank #4 bark. 

“Chill out, you’re scaring her!” You hear, but you stay hidden in Hank #5’s arm,

“But he–”

“We know, but you already gave him enough. Just look at his face, dude.”

You hear a wheeze followed by a moan of pain. 

“We hope you know that you’re fired, asshole.” 

You hear rustling, and look up to find three of your boyfriends staring at you in worry. “Are you okay, babe?” Hank #3 asks. 

You feel shame from the way they’re even scared to touch you. Like you’re a fragile little thing. “I just want to go home.” You sniffle. 

You feel fresh tears well up as one Hank orders an Uber. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. 

“What the hell are you even apologizing for?” Hank #1 gently scolds you. You feel Hank #5’s fingers rub soothing circles on the skin of your back. “He’s the one that took advantage of you.”

“But, if I didn’t dress… if I wore a different skirt–”

Hank #3 gasps dramatically. “Do not bring the skirt into this! The skirt is only guilty of showing off your incredible ass!” This effectively earns him a wet chuckle from you. 

Your eyes find your favorite blonde man standing on the side, silently cradling his bruised knuckles with a forlorn expression. He catches you staring and purses his lips in shame. 

You extend a hand, and his eyes soften, he tentatively reaches back. A few tears run down his face as you tug him into a hug. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He whispers as he melts into your embrace. 

“You saved me.” You correct him. “Thank you.”

You feel safe, surrounded with warmth, and you smile contentedly. “I’ll love you forever, my boys.” 

Hank #3 smiles at Hank #1 as if to say See? No need to feel so insecure. 

Hank #1 sighs in relief. “Let’s go home, this party blows anyway.”

“And Hank #2 drank the whole bar.” Hank #5 adds, which causes the black haired man to sputter protests. 

The incident is soon forgotten as you keep laughing from the way your boyfriends bicker. When you arrive in your hotel room Hank #1 gently takes your makeup off as Hank #2 helps you out of your clothes and into your sleeping shirt. You’re about to protest when they stop you. “Just let us take care of you.”

When you fall into bed Hank #4 wraps you in his arms, his knuckles wrapped in clean bandages. The others settle around you in a suffocating pile of warmth, but you can’t bring yourself to tell them to move. 

You dream of warmth and safety.

Chapter Text

You’re standing on your porch, wrapped in a soft blanket as you drowsily watch your boys load up the van with bags and tents. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Hank #1 ruffles your hair affectionately. “This will be a gnarly adventure! An opportunity to reconnect with nature and bask in the shine of the eternal cycle of life!”

Gnarly clearly isn’t the term you’d use to describe a night of camping in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Your lack of enthusiasm must be obvious, because your red haired boyfriend stops his work to turn to you. “You’re gonna have a great spot to paint, and we bought a bag of marshmallows to roast them over the fire. We’ve already packed your art stuff.”

Painting and eating junk? Now that’s a plan you could get behind. “Did you grab the acrylic paint or the oil paint?”

Hank #3 looks at you like you’ve just asked him to solve an equation. “The stuff that smells weird and will be a bitch to clean out of my hoodie.”

You snicker. “Oil paint it is, then.”

You feel a bit nervous about sleeping in the middle of a forest, but the Hanks insisted on giving you ‘the full soul-changing experience of communicating with the wild’ as they’ve told you. You’re not a real outdoorsy type of gal, but if being a bit uncomfortable will make them happy then you’ll do it gladly.

“Did you all bring your jackets?” Hank #5 asks the group. “The forest will be a bit chilly tonight.” 

All men agree while you stare at your boyfriend sheepishly. “Where’s your jacket young lady?” He quirks a brow sternly.

“I have a fuzzy blanket.” You wrap the material tighter around you. 

“Good luck shitting outside in the middle of the night with your fuzzy blanket.” Hank #3 snickers. 

“Huh?” You blink. “What do you mean by shitting outside?”

“Well…” Hank #2 begins as he loads a cooler in the trunk. “You don’t expect to find a bathroom in the middle of a forest, do ya?”

The horrified look on your face betrays that you clearly didn’t think about that part. 

“No way in hell I’m shitting in a forest.” 

The Hanks all stare at you as they try to contain their hilarity. “Why not? It’s natural.”Hank #4 shrugs. You finally notice that he’s wearing one of his stupid t-shirts, the one with the words chlamydia survivor printed on it, and it definitely does not help you take him seriously.

“Nope.” You say as you go to grab your bag and run back inside. Forget what you said about the discomfort worth making them happy. “Never-mind.”

“She’s chickening out! Two, grab her!” Hank #1 yells, and you screech comically loud as Hank #2 throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Five, get her jacket! GO! GO! GO!”

You curse and kick your legs while Hank #2 tries to put you in the car, and the rest of the group rushes to grab the last of their stuff. “Help!” Hank #2 cries as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. “She’s freakishly strong!”

Hank #1 jumps into the driver seat and twists his key to start the car. Hank #4 traps you in a bear hug “I’m sorry house-babe, I promise you’ll have fun!”

“I hate you guys!” You whine in surrender when you hear the ‘click’ of the belt. 

The rest of your boyfriends pile up in the minivan, and immediately Hank #1 floors the accelerator while ‘Life is a Highway’ starts playing on the radio.

The Hanks starts singing a very off key rendition of the song, and the cheery atmosphere is so infectious you can’t hold on to your annoyance and instead you join them.

After a while the group settles down, and you catch Hank #5 uses his hoodie as a pillow, and soon he is asleep with his head pressed against the window. Hank #4 uses this opportunity to pull out his phone and snap a picture of the sleeping brunette, making sure to use the fisheye lens to make his forehead and nose as comically big as possible. 

All of your phones let out a collective chime, and that’s when you realize that he has sent the pic to the entire group chat. 

“It was gnarly knowing you, Four.” Hank #3 grins. 

“You’re asking to get your ass beat.” Hank #2 lectures him, yet when the picture appears on his phone he muffles a snort. 

You lay your head on Hank #4’s shoulder, hoping you will not receive the same treatment as you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the car. 

You wake up when Hank #1 has stopped to fill the tank with gas. You decide to step out to stretch your legs. “So, sunshine.” Hank #2 begins with a grin. “Ready to embrace the wild and be one with nature?”

“I’m sure she’d rather be one with me.” Hank #3 drawls with a smirk. “The nights are pretty cold outside, baby. We’ll need to get creative to keep each other warm.”

Each time your redhead gets suggestive with you, you can’t help but match his freak. You  stroke the collar of his plaid shirt as you gaze at him through your lashes. “Oh? I have a few ideas in mind, wanna give the others a demonstration?”

He suddenly blushes so hard his cheeks looks about to catch on fire. “A– well–.. Fucking hell–” His head falls in his hands with a flustered groan. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You smirk evilly. Drunk on the power you get from overwhelming him. “You’re a bit… flushed.”

“Can’t take what he dishes out.” Hank #2 snickers.

“Shut up.” Your redhead whines.

“You asshole!” You hear, and suddenly your lanky, blonde man runs past you giggling while sweet, calm Hank #5 is chasing him like a hound and spraying him with a bottle of water. “Take down that pic!”

“Big forehead! Big forehead!” Hank #4 chants childishly, and screeches when he receives a spray of cold water. 

When you get back inside the van Hank #4 is banned by the others from sitting in the back while soaked, which results in him spending the rest of the ride pouting at the front of the car.

The landscape gradually shifts from vast plains and fields to breathtaking mountains and giant pine trees. You admire the view silently, and when the car slows down to a stop you realize that you’ve arrived to your destination.

You get out of the car and stretch your body with a moan of delight. It feels incredible to be finally out of the cramped space. You then help your boys unload the car, and once you’re all carrying your backpacks you gape as you see your crew of restless idiots stand at the foot of a hill waiting for you. 

“Let’s go fam!” Hank #1 grins excitedly.

“Wait!” You stop him. “We’re climbing that?!”

He tilts his head, confused by your behavior. “…Yeah?”

You throw your head back to groan dramatically. “Whyyy?”

“Because it’s fun!” They all respond, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

You’ve come all this way, you might as well tough it out. So you reluctantly start the trek as you follow your boys. It’s uncomfortably warm, you feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck, and you definitely did not pick the right pair of shoes for this. Yet despite your comfort you refrain from complaining, because you’re obviously the one carrying the lightest load out of the group.

Hank #5 is walking in front of you, barely breaking a sweat even though he’s carrying a tent on his back and the cooler in a hand. Still, he turns to you and, when he sees you struggling to follow, he has the nerve to offer you his free hand. “Give me your bag.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “Absolutely not, I can carry it.”

“You look like you’re about to die.”

“I’m just not used to this much effort.” You grumble as you stop to rest against the trunk of a tree. “Why is this hill so fucking steep?”

“Aww.” He grins down at you. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Fuck off!” You try to throw your empty water bottle at him, but he easily dodges it with a giggle.

“Hang on, alright?” He does the most ridiculous pair of finger guns at you. “You’ve got this, and we’re almost there. You’re not gonna regret it!”

“Ugh.” You resume your walk, and after half an hour of torture, the thick forest parts to reveal a beautiful clearing overlooking a small lake. And you stop, eyes widening in amazement.

The water shimmers under the warm rays of sunlight like it’s made of thousands of diamonds. The grass is a breathtaking shade of green, home to countless species of wildflowers. The Hanks are oddly silent as they let you take in the spectacle.

“This is… wow.” You breathe out.

“Just so you know.” Hank #1 leans closer as if to tell a secret. “This was my idea.”

“Thank you.” You tell him, your heart swelling with gratitude with how thoughtful he always is. His brown eyes soften as he gazes at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Last one in the water is a pussy!” Hank #3 yells, and you all instantly drop your bags and break into a sprint. At their request you’ve put on your bathing suit before leaving the house, and you’re clumsily ripping out your clothes while running at the same time. Hank #4 trips and falls trying to remove his jeans.

Hank #2 jumps into the water first, with you close behind as you bomb dive with a squeal of excitement. The water is the perfect temperature, cooling your overheating sweaty body. When you emerge you barely dodge the large freckled body of Hank #3 as he bellyflops into the water. 

You let your body float with your eyes closed, you think some of your boys are wrestling each other in the water, but you’re too relaxed too pay attention. 

You think back to the years you spent cooped up in your house, with nothing but your work computer and your canvas to keep you company. Before getting the dateviators you felt like a scared little girl, lost in a world too big for you. And then the Hanks crashed in your world, and made it their personal mission to take the introverted little girl you were and show her that the world is not that big and scary after all.

Even today you’re grateful that they took you with them. Because alone you would have never worked up the courage to do such a trip.

Soon you’re roped up in a game of water polo, three against three. You don’t really care about winning or losing, you’re mostly here to get an eyeful of the five men’s glistening muscular bodies as they play in the water.

You burst laughing when you see the way Hank#3 defends his goal, which is mainly flopping around to stop the ball with his head. 

“You look so uncool doing that, dude!” Hank #1 mocks him.

“Yet look who’s losing, bitches!” Hank #3 replies smugly. 

When the game is over the group decide to start setting up camp. Hank #5 and #2 start building the tent while Hank #4 gathers dry wood for the fire. Hank #1 teaches you how to build a fire, and as you struggle he patiently watches and guide you. Hank #3 is preparing food, and your stomach rumbles when you watch him prepare chicken skewers covered in herbs and spices.

“We’re going to be really cozy, huh?” You grin fondly at the little camp.

“Yup, for a haunted forest it sure looks real welcoming!” Hank #1 chuckles.

The rest of the group lapses in silence as they gape at the blonde. “The forest is what?” Hank #4 cries.

Hank #1 realizes he’s fucked up, and he raises his hands to pacify you. “It’s just dumb stories on the internet, that’s all. Ghosts don’t exist, guys.”

“‘Ghosts don’t exists’, says the former talking hanger !” Hank #3 replies sarcastically. 

“Forest babe.” Hank #4 turns to you, he looks kind of worried. “You’ve been a human longer than us. Have you ever seen ghosts?”

They all stare at you expectantly, and you play nervously with a string of your bathing suit. “What about Zoey? She use to be a ghost.”

“… We’re so dead.” Hank #2 states.

Hank #1 groans. “Homies, seriously! You can’t tell me you believe in this shit. Hey, Five,” He turns to the brunette currently warming his hands by the fire. “You’re the most reasonable dude here, help me! You don’t think this place is real haunted, right?”

“...” Hank #5 stays silent with an apologetic look, and Hank #1 groans in defeat.

“Boys.” You start, deeply amused by the sudden panic taking over four muscular guys at the thought of ghosts in the woods. “You’ve camped a lot, nothing has ever happened. Chill out. It’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s too late to leave anyway, the sun is setting.” Hank #2 comments.

“Baby, my love, my sun and stars.” Hank #3 grabs your hands to get you to look at him. “When we die, remember that Hank #1 is the one that came up with the idea. Hank #1.”

He gets a roll of your eyes in response.

You get your boys to drop the ghost subject and you get to work cooking the food over the fire. The sky is a gorgeous blend of pinks, purples and oranges and your fingers tingle with the urge to paint. You scramble towards your bag to get your supplies, an old tshirt, and you get to work by the fire.

Your hear the soothing voices of the Hanks talk, joke and bicker by the fire as you silently work on your painting while eating some food. Hank #3 looks over your shoulder to watch you work. “Your paintings are, like, soul-vibrationally powerful, you know that?”

Feeling self conscious, you flush as you sputters protests. “Well– it’s rushed and I don’t have a good visibility so…”

“This is rushed?” He looks shocked as he points at your half finished art. “Dude, you gotta put your work in a museum, maybe that will make me want to go into one.”

You laugh softly. “I’m just doing this for myself.”

Hank #5 peers over your other shoulder, and the sudden onslaught of attention makes you feel nervous. “Now that I think of it, you’re always so secretive with your paintings. You’re too legendary to hide your stuff in your art studio.”

“Guys–” You hide your painting as you flush brighter than Hank #3 usually does, and that adds fuel to the fire.

“Aww, you’re so cute.” Hank #5 pinches your cheek while Hank #3 kisses the other with a fond chuckle.

Once your belly is full and your painting is finished you settle in Hank #1’s arms with a good book. Hank #2 pulls out his laptop and gets to work on the montage of their next video. Hank #5 is resting his head on Hank #3 lap as he strokes your legs with a relaxed smile. You hear the soft music of Hank #4’s guitar as he noodles with some chords. You think you’ve never felt this content in a long time.

Crack.

The sound startles you. “What was that?” You ask, and your boys exchange looks with each other. 

Hank #1 sighs. “Prolly just an animal.” 

“Maybe that’s what the ghosts want you to believe.” Hank #4 says, suspicious. 

“Okay.” You get up and searched through one backpack until you find a flashlight. “I’ll check it out.”

“Hell no!” Hank #2 snaps. “You’re not going out alone in the woods.”

“I won’t go far. I just wanna see if there is a ghost.”

“Ghost don’t fucking exist!” Hank #1 cries again.

The Hanks know from the look on your face that you’ve made up your mind. And once you’ve decided to do something it’s impossible to get you to back out. “Fine.” Hank #5 caves in as he gets up. “I’ll go with you. Knowing you, you’ll prolly fall off a cliff.”

“Thank you for your trust in me, Hankie.”

“Wait for me!” Hank #4 jogs after you, and soon the rest of the group follows you into the woods. 

You throw an amused look at Hank #1 when he falls into steps with you. “What?” He smiles sheepishly. “I have FOMO.”

“Ghost hunting squad, let’s go!” You cry, and the response is a chorus of half hearted cheers.

“Do you guys know how to make holy water?” Hank #3 shakes his half full bottle of water. “It could be useful.”

“Maybe just chant ‘Praise Jesus!’ at it.” Hank #2 suggests mockingly, and Hank #3 narrows his eyes at his friend as if he’s pondering whether it was a joke or not.

The woods are eerily dark and quiet at night, a gust of wind makes you shiver. But your curiosity makes you determined to investigate the origin of the noise. 

“We should split up.” Hank #5 suddenly suggests.

“You sure this is a good idea, bro?” Hank #3 asks worriedly as he looks around with his flashlight.

“Yup, and I’m calling dibs on our girl.” When you point the flashlight towards him he’s smirking slyly. “Let’s meet at camp in half an hour.”

“Not fair!” You hear a chorus of complaints, but Hank #5 ignores them as he pulls you away from the group.

Once you’re far enough that you do not hear or see your boyfriends, you find yourself suddenly gently pushed against a tree as you yelp in surprise. 

“Ugh, finally.” Hank #5 sighs, before he captures your mouth in a kiss.

“Hank, whatcha doin’?” You ask, already affected by the length of his body pressed against you.

“Making out with my girl.” He smirks, thanks to the moonlight you can see his tan cheeks flushed a dark berry red. “I wanted to have you all to myself for a little while.”

“But–” Your protest dies on your tongue when he wraps his hand around your neck, not to cut your airway but just as a possessive gesture. Then he bends down and kisses you again. A little whine escapes your mouth before you could stop it, making him chuckle darkly as he grabs your waist with his free hand. 

Smug bastard.

You decide to retaliate with a swipe of your tongue on his lower lip, and he chokes out a groan as his lips part. You grab his face in your hands and pulls him closer as you deepen the kiss. His mouth is warm, wet and pliant as you explore it, and he breaks the kiss only to bury his nose in your neck and breathe in your scent.

“Fuck, I love you so much babydoll.” He presses kisses up the column of your neck, and your eyes roll in the back of your skull when you feel his tongue taste the skin under your ear. “You taste like marshmallows.” He chuckles, his voice low and deeper than usual.

“Hank!” You moan, and he responds with a “Yeah, pretty baby? You want more?”

His hand grabs at your ass, squeezing your flesh as he curses under his breath while you whine sweetly. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” He whispers in an enamored tone. “You’re driving all of us crazy. We, like, can never stop thinking about you. I think I won’t ever survive getting separated from you.”

You feel like you’re about to melt under his touch, he’s so gentle and strong at the same time, alternating between caressing and kissing you as he mutters declarations of love. 

You slide your hands under his shirt and jacket, and you suck in a breath when you feel his abdominals flex under your touch. “Love when you touch me.” He whispers, and you’re more than happy to provide as your fingers splay to cover as much skin as possible, and you explore his chest with your heart hammering in your ribcage.

He pulls you in another kiss, and teasingly you pinch a nipple, which results in Hank letting out the cutest, most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard. 

“We should get back.” You whisper when you realize that the others are probably going to get worried.

You boyfriend sags against you. “I dunno, making love to you in a forest sounds pretty gucci right–”

Crack

You both tense, Hank pulls away to look around with furrowed brows. You hear another crack, and this time he straightens up as he tugs you behind him protectively.

Fingers clutching at his shirt, you look around over his shoulder, but finds nothing. The woods are oddly silent save for your breathing. After a few seconds of listening with bated breaths, Hank #5 relaxes. “Maybe just an animal.” 

Suddenly a tall figure in black emerges from the shadows with a loud wail. You let out a blood curling scream as Hank #5 hollered. Without thinking your boyfriend throws you over his shoulder and starts running like a wild rabbit. You arrive in the camp, the fire still burning idly. And as Hank #5 struggles to catch his breath he lowers you gently on the ground. 

“Where are the others?” You ask worriedly. 

You hear screams coming from the woods, and soon you see Hank #4 emerging from the tree-line with leaves in his wild blonde curls and a tear in his Chlamydia Survivor shirt. He is followed by your redhead, who keeps chanting “fuck this shit.” and your bearded black haired boy who looks even paler than usual. 

“Where’s Hank #1?” You ask as they approach, and they look at each other worriedly. 

“We lost homie at some point.”

“Shit.” Hank #5 hisses, and just before you could imagine the worst case scenario you hear a cackle.

You all turn to witness Hank #1 appear with a    black tarp on his shoulders, laughing evilly. “I got you all!” He tries to catch his breath, but he’s taken by another fit of laughter. “Hank #4, you– you fell into the bushes, oh my god!”

“That was you?” Hank #3 narrows his eyes, utterly betrayed.

“Gotcha!” He winks, and the rest of the group stands there feeling oddly stupid. “The woods aren’t haunted, losers.”

“You suck!” You hear the Hanks snap back. 

“Though that prank was like, epic, broski!” Hank #4 pats his back in congratulation. 

“Well,” you stretch, feeling exhausted. “That was enough adventure for the day. I’m going to bed, night my boys.”

“G’night!” They respond. 

You disappear into the tent while the men settle around the fire to linger before bed. Hank #1 is still snickering quietly, proud as hell of his prank. They all look relaxed and having fun, safe for Hank #5 who stares pensively into the fire. 

“Something’s wrong, bro?” Hank #3 asks when he notices.

“I…” He trails off, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I wanna marry her.” He murmurs, hoping that you can’t hear him.

The Hanks’ eyes widened as they all turned to look at him. “Like a wedding?” Hank #4 asks.

“Yes, four.” Hank #2 says flatly, as if fighting the urge to self palm. “That’s what marrying someone means.”

“What makes you suddenly want that?” Hank #1 tilts his head in curiosity.

“Been thinking about it for a while… we’re always riding the fine line between life and the great beyond. Tonight I got pretty scared for house-babe’s life and I realized that… I don’t want to die without belonging to her, and her to me, body and soul. You feel me homies?”

“…Yeah.” The others reply. “We definitely get it.”

***

The next day you feel almost sad to leave. That clearing was a little piece of paradise, warm and peaceful, but you know that you have to return to your job and your house.

The Hanks notice how oddly silent you are while you sit in the minivan, watching the mountains disappear slowly from view. 

“Everything okay, babe?” Hank #1 asks, worried, but you smile reassuringly at him. 

“Yeah, it’s just… I’m a little sad the trip is over.”

“We can always come back another time.” Hank #2 says. 

“Like a tradition! We can come back every year!” Hank #4 chime in excitedly. 

“Heck yeah!” The team cries. 

Hank #5 steals a glance at your naked ring finger, and silently hopes that things will be slightly different for your next trip.

Chapter Text

Stress. 

You can only feel sheer stress and the ache of your guts churning as you sit in you tiny grey cubicle. Your headset makes your ears hurt, your brain is overwhelmed with the incessant sound of chattering and keyboard typing, and you want nothing more than to slam your head against the desk to make it stop.

A ‘ping’ rings as you receive a ticket tagged damaged shipment, you brace yourself with a deep breath in before clicking ‘Take the call’.

“Thank you for calling Zeta Marketplace, how may I help you?” You chirp in your best customer service voice.

A sigh reaches your ear. “My phone arrived with the screen broken.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You say as you rush to open the pictures the customer took of the product. “I can see the pictures you’ve sent us, I’m just going to need a picture of the package it came in.”

“… I put it in the trash. Can’t you just give me a refund now?”

“Oh.” You cringe. “Well, to issue a refund I need a picture of the bo–”

“Oh my fucking god– y’all are scammers! I can’t believe it!”

“I’m sorry sir, this is just corporate policy…”

“Corporate policy my ass! Use you brain, girlie, why would I damage my own fucking phone and go through this whole process just to get a refund?!”

“Sir, I’m just trying to help–” 

“You’re not helping if you’re not refunding my order you stupid, useless idiot!” The man barks from the other end of the line, and you jump from the violence in his tone. “I wanna talk to your manager.”

“S–sure.” Your voice shakes as you feel your eyes burn with fresh tears. “Please wait while I’m transferring you.”

You send the call to your manager, and you barely have time to wipe away your tears before you hear another ‘ping’. 

The rest of your work day is like any other, filled with people losing their patience and screaming at you. You’re losing count of the number of times you get called ‘stupid’ or ‘useless’. You get talk down to, insulted, ordered around, and each day it eats a little bit more at you.

When the clock on your screen displays 6:00 pm you breathe out a sigh of relief. And as you put down your headset you see that you’ve received a new email from your boss.

Your numbers are low, you’re ranking second to last this week. Pull yourself together.  

As if on autopilot you feel numb, you grab your purse and make your way to your car. Then you drive in silence, no music or radio. You feel like your head is underwater and you don’t know when—or if— you’re going to reemerge.

You park your car in the driveway of the house you’ve been renting for six months with the Hanks. It’s a little cottage close to the mountains, perfect for the ski season. Yet the frost has started to melt, and you expect the first flowers to show up anytime soon.

Because of the Hanks’ work and love for extreme sports you move houses and change jobs pretty frequently. You don’t really mind, but you’re pretty much stuck working in customer service since you don’t have experience in any other field.

You enter your little haven, it smells heavenly of red meat and tomato sauce. “I’m home!” You call out as you kick off your shoes.

Hank #3 waves at you from the kitchen where he’s busy stirring a pot. “Sup, babeski!”

You see the black mop of hair of Hank #2 sticking out from the couch, the man probably taking a nap. Hank #4 is in the armchair playing video games on his console, and when you bend down to kiss him he grabs your collar and press multiple kisses on your cheeks. 

When you don’t let out your usual, adorable giggle after the kisses attack the blonde looks at you worriedly. “You good, house-homie?”

You force a smile. “Yeah, I’m… gucci.”

He watches you all but flee him. “…Okay?”

You find Hank #5 in your bedroom, his earbuds in as he doom scrolls. “Hi.” You say, and when he sees you his eyes soften and he pulls out an earbud. 

“Hey. How was your day?” He asks. 

You feel a weight on your lungs as your eyes sting. Useless idiot. You recall the words spat at you.

You merely shrug in response. “S’alright. The usual.”

He narrows his pretty brown eyes at you, unconvinced. “Where is Hank #1?” You ask to change the subject.

“Having a drink with a guy that works for one of our sponsors.” He says. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’m going in the art room, see ya.”

You can feel his gaze following you like a hawk as you slip out of the room to hide in your art studio. Your boys always make sure there is a room for you in each house you move in. The room is just like you’ve left it yesterday. Cluttered, messy, a plastic tarp protecting the floor and your finished paintings piled up in a corner. 

You take a half finished painting and prop it on your easel. It’s a copy of a self portrait of Van Gogh you’re doing as practice.

Unfortunately, today seems to get even shittier. You can’t seem to get the exact shade of blue you need, and you keep mixing and mixing paints like a crazy maniac while muttering curses to yourself. Then you fuck up the shading, because you didn’t wait enough time for the layer underneath to dry, and now everything is smudged.

“Dinner time, homies!” You hear Hank #3 call out, and you set your paintbrush in a jar full of dirty water, utterly defeated.

You drag yourself downstairs and slump in your chair. “Hey, babe!” Hank #1 steal a quick kiss on your lips before sitting down at the dinner table. 

“Ladies,” Hank #2 sits down facing you. “Guess who has two thumbs and got asked to do an interview for Xtreme Sports magazine?” He then points at himself with his two thumbs. “This guy!”

“No way!” The Hanks exclaims.

“That was the most uncool way to announce something so cosmically cool!” Hank #3 says as he sets a tray of steaming lasagna on the table. “But congrats, homie.”

You’re too wrapped up in your own misery to properly react, so you just watch your boys loudly hype up their platonic soulmate. You feel strangely disconnected from the world around you, and usually you would be over the moon from happiness and pride. Now you can only think about how awesome your boyfriends are compared to you. They’re talented, handsome, kind and charismatic, and you’re just… a self conscious artist with a low level job you’re not even good at.

How long until they realize that you’re not worth it?

You meet the puppy dog eyes of Hank #2 who seems to wait expectantly for your praises, and you huff a fond laugh as you grab his hand and squeeze it. “I’m proud of you, congrats!”

He grins, drunk on the praise, before he starts wolfing down his food like he’s starved. You absolutely love your redhead’s cooking, but tonight you cannot stomach any food. You absentmindedly push your food around your plate as you listen to the conversation your boys are having. 

A foot gently kicks your calf, tearing you out of your daze to meet the bright green eyes of your blondie. He tilts his head as if to ask something’s wrong? And you wink and rub his leg as if to respond all good.

He seems doubtful, but then Hank #3 asks if anyone wants a second help, and he jumps on the food like it personally insulted him.

You thank Hank #3 for the food, you help clean the dishes, and then you march up the stairs, determined to finish this cursed painting. 

Yet when you find yourself in front of the easel you don’t even know what to do. You stare at your painting in silence for what seems like hours, trying to work out your next move. 

It usually is never this hard, you’re brimming with energy when you have an ongoing project, and most of the time you can’t even go to bed until you’re done with it.

And now you’re just… exhausted and empty.

You fail to hear the knock at the door, and soon a head of blonde hair pokes out. Hank #4 finds you curled it a ball in the middle of the room, looking utterly defeated. “Okay…” He sighs as he enters the room and closes the door behind him. “I could feel your bad vibes even from the living room. Spill the beans.”

He’s uncharacteristically serious, arms crossed and an eyebrow quirked expectantly. “It’s nothing!” You let out a nervous laugh, but you feel a knot form in your throat already. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. My week was pretty hard, but TGIF, right?” 

Hank #4 furrows his brows when he sees your eyes well up with tears, and you feel like you’re struggling to breathe. “I’ll get over it, I …promise. I–I’m handling it.”

But you’re suddenly dissolving into tears, and Hank #4 whispers “Oh, babe…” as if he’s in pain, and you feel a pair of strong arms around your shoulders. 

“I can’t stand working in customer service anymore.” You sob as you clutched his shirt in your hands, and you’re sure you’re soaking his shoulder with your tears. But your sweet boy doesn’t move and just listens as he pets your hair to comfort you. “I spend my days listening to people cursing me out and humiliating me, and I’m constantly berated by my managers because I don’t perform well. I can’t even paint anymore! I guess they’re right, I’m a useless idiot without any talent or–”

“Woah! Woah!” Hank #4 breaks the hug to stare at you with wide eyes. “Are you insane? First of all, nobody talks about my angel of a girlfriend like that, not even you! Secondly, every time you talk about your job it sounds like a total nightmare, if you’re unhappy just get the hell out and let those losers eat your dust.” 

“But we need the money.” Your weak protest is silenced by an index finger pressed against your lips. 

“We’re a team.” Hank #4 “We’ve got jobs too. Let us be the wind under your wing-suit.” When you let out a small laugh he smiles. “Babe, you’re crazy smart, gorgeous, and you’re kind. And I still can’t wrap my head around how you can deal with all five of us on a daily basis!” He pauses to admire you while his thumbs gently wipe your tears away. “You’re incredible.”

You feel your cheeks flaring up from the praises. The urge to protest comes up, but he stares at you so genuinely that the words die on your tongue. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, and his smile lights up the room. He looks so devastatingly handsome, with his adorable gap in his smile, his freckled cheeks and his messy hair. You’re feeling ridiculously giddy thanks to his kind words. You can’t help but lean in to kiss his lips, and he’s more than happy to return it with a sigh of satisfaction. 

“You know…” He trails off with a lopsided smirk, his cheeks red and the tone of his voice dropping. “If you need some help to paint, I’m here.”

You look at him quizzically, and he quirks a brow like he can’t believe you’re not taking the hint. He points at a blank canvas tall enough to lay on it, then to your bodies, and your eyes widen. “Oooh.”

“But if you don’t wa– oof!” He’s cut off as you jump on him, and he falls to the floor laughing as you capture his mouth in a kiss that has his heart summersaulting. You’re straddling his hips, and you feel his big hands on your waist as he strokes you gently. “That tickles.” You giggle against his mouth, and when he does it against with a cheeky smile you retaliate by biting his neck. 

“Ngh.” He groans. His eyes roll in the back of his head as he digs his nails in your skin. You revel in how sensitive he always is when you touch him. Hank #4 goes to remove your shirt, and you raise your arms to help him. He takes this opportunity to bury his face in your chest. “I forgot to add earlier that your boobs are bussin’.” His crude compliment make you snort. Fingers pull down the cups of your bra as he press kisses down your sternum, then he’s wrapping your breasts in his hands, testing the weight with a groan heavy with arousal. 

“Hmm..” He pretends to think as he swipes a thumb over a nipple, sending a tremor down your legs. “I think I’ll add some paint right… here.” He licks a stripe down the inside of your breast, and you choke on a moan. “And here.” His tongue traces the length of your collarbone. 

He pulls away, and you feel heat pool between your legs at the look on his face. The green of his eyes is swallowed by the darkness of his pupils, his lips are red and wet, and he gazes at you like he wants to devour you whole. 

You make him take off his shirt, which lands somewhere behind him. You rush to unclasp your bra and toss it out of the way. He returns to bite at your chest like a man starved, heavily panting as your trembling fingers struggle with his belt. His fingers dip under the waistband of your pencil skirt, and you have to release him to remove the rest of your clothes except for your panties. He watches hungrily as he unclasps his belt. “See?” He bit his lip. “Gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You press a kiss to his lips, and pull away before he can deepen it. You grab the canvas and drag it until it’s laying on the floor before you. When you grab the tubes of acrylic paint and turn you see Hank #4 standing before you in only his boxers. 

He’s lean and the slimmest from the group, yet you see the muscles of his abdominals flex under the scrutiny of your gaze. Your mouth waters when your gaze follows the trail of dark blonde hair down his lower abdomen. “Aren’t you a pretty sight?” You sigh, Hank #4 almost moans at the compliment. He pushes you until you lay down on the canvas and he parts your legs to lie on top of you. Your breath hitch from how good his naked skin feels against yours. 

“Hank.” You plead as you arch your back to get closer, and the sound arouses him to the point where he loses control for a second, his hips rolls against yours, the friction tearing a moan out of the both of you. 

He sits up, grabs the first tube of paint he sees, opens it and gathers some paint on the tip of his finger. Then he playfully boops your nose with a grin. You retaliate by grabbing a tube of pink, squeezing a handful, then spreading it on his chest. You then dig your nails in his skin, and you hear a very hot “Fuck.” cried from his lips. 

He smears white down the inside of your thighs as you coat his shoulders in a pale shade of blue. He begins rutting against your core as he keeps covering your body in different shades of purple, yellow and pink. 

You force him to switch places. Your thighs, now a bright purple, brackets his hips as you take his hands and make him grab your breasts. He looks feral now, and you haven’t realized just how much this would turn him on. 

With a whine he tugs urgently at your underwear, and when you discard them you suddenly feel how wet you are. Hank #4 pulls and kicks at his boxers, and you notices with a pang to the guts that he’s so hard it looks painful. 

“Baby, if you don’t fuck me right now I swear I’m going to die.” Your blonde angel sobs. You brace your hands on his pectorals as you lower yourself onto him. He slides in so easily it has both of you hissing in pleasure. 

He grabs your waist, coating it in a mess of colors remaining on his hands. You lift your hips slowly, and when you snaps them back down he cries out. 

“You’re so loud.” You comment smugly as you repeat the same move. “We’ll disturb the others.” 

“Baby, do I look like I ca–…oooh yeah~ oh shit!” He babbles incoherently when you speed up. He looks so fucked out already, lying there helpless while you’re fucking his brains out, it’s causing the knot in your lower belly to tighten. 

Thy numbness you’ve experienced all evening has completely disappeared thanks to Hanks #4’s sweet reassurance and the way he worships you. Now you only feel happiness, pleasure and pride at the fact that you can reduce such a confident man to an absolute mess with your body. 

The longer you ride him the more his cries escalate. “Wait– wait– wait–” He rushes to still you by clutching your hips. “I need a second or I’m gonna come.”

“Aw, but you always manage to come a second time.” You coo at him as your hips grind against his, and he throws his head back to sob. 

You’ve been together for so long you know your blonde baby like the back of your hand. Teasing him enough will wind him up until he snaps and turn into this frenzied beast of a man. You can see from the way that he looks at you that he’s almost there, he just needs a little push. 

So you slow down and barely move you hips anymore as you fondle you breasts. “Babe!” He cries in protest, his eyes glued to your chest. “I’m so close, c’mon!”

You giggle as you rack your nails down his colored chest, and he let out a long, frustrated grunt. You can see he’s nearing his breaking point when his grip on you becomes bruising and his breathing gets heavier. You cover his body with yours. “You want to come, baby boy?” You ask, and he moans a “So badly.” in response.

“Why don’t you take it from me?” 

He falls silent, and that’s when you know you’ve pushed him over the edge. Suddenly you yelp as you’re manhandled to lie on your back, he pulls out of you, flips you like you weigh nothing, and then he pushes back inside with a groan. 

“So fucking tight.” He mutters, you stay still as you hear him squeeze some paint on your back, the cold making you jump. He lays a hand on your lower back and starts spreading it on your skin. “You’re so pretty…” He says as he caresses you, then you feel a hand land on your ass in a harsh slap that tears a choked moan out of you.

He starts in a punishing pace that has you clutching the canvas for purchase. It’s so messy and slippery from the paint, but Hank #4 is determined to fuck you as hard and fast as he possibly can. Your moans and cries are mixing with his grunts, so loud that you’re sure the rest of the house can hear you two clearly.

Your blonde is pistoning in and out of you frantically, the knot in your stomach is so tight you feel you’re about to break. You slip a finger between your legs, and Hank slaps your hand away to replace it with his own. You sigh when his fingers starts tracing circles on your heat, and your arms buckle under your weight. “Come on. Come on.” He urges you frantically as he pounds into you. “Wanna cum with you.”

His fingers press harder against you, and suddenly the knot snaps, and you dissolve in a chorus of moans. Your boyfriend buries himself as deep as he can and goes still as he spills inside of you. 

“You good?” You ask in a weak voice, and he acquiesces with a “Hmm.” And a kiss being pressed to your spine. 

“Turn around, wanna see your face.”

You obey and lie on your back as you wrap your legs around his thin waist. He enters you again, this time he braces his arms on each side of your head, and he kisses you deeply as he gently moves in you. 

The act is so sweet and gentle you feel warmth in your chest. You reach to grab his hand and tangle your fingers with his, and he grins as he rubs his nose against yours affectionately.

His hair is beyond messy, some strands sticking to his face with sweat. His flush colors his cheeks a nice red, sprinkled with a constellation of freckles. 

“My sweet baby.” He hums against your skin, his hips giving slow, hard thrusts as you melt in his arms. “You deserve the world. And only good vibes.” You roll your eyes with a fond laugh from how mushy he’s acting. 

This time the build up to your orgasm is a slow, steep climb. Hank #4 wants to drag this as long as he can as he savors the feel of your body against his, and you feed the flames with tender caresses and kisses against his skin, he tastes of paint and sweat.

“I’ll quit.” You breathe out suddenly, and he grins happily. 

“That’s my girl.” He rewards you with a snap of his hips that has you keening. “Fuck ‘em.”

Hank #4 buries his fingers between your legs, and you feel like you’re getting pushed closer and closer to the edge. He watches you like a hawk, picking apart each expression you make. He looks eager to see you come as he quickens his movements. 

You claw at his back as you feel the knot tightens painfully in your belly, and suddenly you’re thrown over the edge. Hank #4 watches you buck and cry with a smug and aroused smirk.

“Ugh.” Hank #4 groans as he snaps his hips frantically. “You’re squeezing me so hard.”

You cradle his face in your palms lovingly. “Come for me.”

The order breaks him, and he’s collapsing against you in a mess of groans and curses. Your head falls against the canvas as you struggle to catch your breath.

He cages you in his arms and presses kisses against your neck. “You’re so warm, you’re a fucking furnace.” You complain.

“Sounds like a you problem.” Hank #4 doesn’t move, and instead he rests his whole weight on you, and you groan. “Hankie!”

“Fine! Fine!” He laughs as he sits up, you sit up to look at the canvas, covered in smears of pink, purple and blue. 

“This is…” You begin.

“– so cool!” Hank #4.

“– hideous.” You say at the same time.

The paint has dried on your skin, and was now flaking, combined to the sticky feeling between your legs, you cringed in discomfort. “I need a shower.” 

Your blondie slides his arms around you and stands up with you in his arms like you weigh nothing. You clutch at his neck as he opens the door and step out of the studio. “We can’t go out like this.” You hiss, but Hank #4 shrugs. 

It looks like he even wants you two to be seen like this. And he proves you right when, instead of taking you to the upstairs bathroom, he climbs down the stairs. “Oh my god, Hank!” You grumble. 

The others were lounging in the couch –with the volume of the TV strangely low– and they turn to look at you. A collective whistle breaks the quietness of the room as you hide your face in the neck of the blonde. 

“What the fuck did you do to end up like this?” Hank #2 asks, deeply amused.

“We just did a little painting together…” Hank #4 smile turns sly. “With our bodiiiiiies.”

“Seriously?” Hank #5 asks. He jumps over the couch and run up the stairs to go check out your ‘work’. And then you hear him burst out laughing.

“Wait, I wanna do that too!” Hank #3 protests. “I’m next!”

“I’m not doing that stupid shit again!” You roll your eyes. “This is so uncomfortable.”

“I think I’ve got paint in my ass crack.” Hank #4 cringes, and the others look deeply amused.

When he turns around to take you to the bathroom the rest of the guys see a purple hand print on his ass, and they explode in a fit of laughter. You flip them off over Hank #4’s shoulder.

You take a long shower as you scrub the paint off each other. Even your hair has some in it, and you have to rub like a psycho to get it out. 

“This was such a stupid idea.” Hank #4 whines. “Why did you even listen to me?”

“You’re hot.” You simply reply, and he giggles as he wraps you in his arms. 

What Hank #4 doesn’t tell you is that they were all well aware of the hard time you were having with your job. But you have this bad habit of keeping it all to yourself for fear of being a burden. 

“Hey, promise me something.” He holds his pinky finger. “If something is bothering you, you tell us, alright? It’s too hard to see you break down like that.”

You look from his worried, kind eyes to the pinky he’s holding, and you smile as you hook your finger with his.

“I pinky promise.”

“You better not break it.” He pretend to threaten you. “Because a pinky promise if the most sacred oath between two homies.”

Your eyes open owlishly as you pretend to be afraid. “I wouldn’t dare.”

This time when he covers your face in kisses you let out his favorite little giggle.

***

You power walk down the isle of cubicles like you’re on your way to war. Some of your colleagues throw you a curious look as they watch you pass by. 

You’re done with this soul crushing job. After a long family meeting with the Hanks you’ve finally spoken to them about the struggles you were having, and they were crushed to know that you’ve been letting it go this bad. So now, they’ve made you promise that the next job you will take will be one you love.

You intend to keep it. 

You burst in your boss’ office, which is as grey and lifeless as the rest of the building, and you throw your headset and your resignation letter on her desk. 

She looks up at you in confusion and anger. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m doing what you wanted. I’m pulling it together.” You reply, before you spin on your heels and leave the office. 

Hank #4 is waiting for you in the parking lot, leaning against your blue Toyota. When he sees you arrive he flashes his missing tooth. “Done?”

“Yup.” You kiss him. 

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

“Horrible.” Bathsheba slides the hanger violently. She takes a look at another dress, lips pursed is contemplation. “Hideous.” She snaps. She holds a blush blouse up to your chest. “Hmm… absolutely not.”

“I like this one.” You point at a long, flowing black skirt.

Bathsheba responds with a snort that looks somehow elegant when she’s the one doing it. “You’re joking, right?”

You pout, and Rebel smirks by your side. “If you think you’ll find clothes that suit her, you’re delusional.”

“I love a good challenge.” Bathsheba says, and you sigh deeply as you walk away from the pair to leave the store.

“Wait! Wait!” A manicured hand grabs your wrist, and your retired bathtub heaves a sigh like the next words will pain her to say out loud. “I’m… sorry. We’ll be… nice.”

You have a complicated relationship with the woman. She can be so fun to be around, and when she wants to she can even be kind and generous. Yet Bathsheba has troubles getting rid of old habits, some of them being her princess act and the immature tantrums she can throw without a warning.

After you’ve realized her she has basically laughed in your face and strolled out of the house like you were just a means to an end. You thought you’d seen the last of her, but yesterday she has reached out via Instagram asking to see you again.

You let her tug you towards the clothing racks. “I recall Barry saying that you’re a warm autumn type, so maybe we should stay away from pastel colors and…” Her fingers skimmed over the clothes, and then pulls out a cute chiffon dress in a plum color. “Ah– ah!”

She holds it up to your figure. “Oh, this one looks great! Look, Reb.”

Rebel leans over to look at you. “Yeah, I don’t feel nauseous, so that’s better.”

“Asshole.” You glare at your friend, whom winks in response.

“Okay, we’re keeping this one!” Bathsheba tosses the dress at you. “Next, we need some heels. Step aside, peasants!” She barks at a poor old couple passing by.

You spend the rest of the afternoon shopping for each other. Rebel has to leave to start their shift, leaving you alone with Bathsheba. “Let’s go get a drink! I know a great tea salon over there.” She chirps.

The two of you sit at the table the waiter has guided you to and and you listen to her babble about the latest gossips and the reality shows she’s seen lately. She seems almost frantic. She keeps going on and on while barely taking a break to sip her tea.

“Bath.” You cut her off in the middle of a rant about Priyanka Chopra and Joe Jonas as you lower your teacup. You throw her a look, silently ordering her to cut the bullshit. “Why did you reach out now? It’s been years.”

“Oh.” She deflates, and she looks almost bashful while mulling over her words, the tip of a finger circling the edge of her porcelain cup. “Well… It took me a long time of mingling with humans to realize that you were… genuinely kind to me. And you never asked for anything in return. You’re a true friend. So I… guess I’ve missed you.”

That stupid, weak heart of yours swells at her words, and instantly forgets how she’s wronged you in the past. “Bath…”

But the curly haired girl ruins the moment with a roll of her eyes. “Also, you’re always moving like you’re on the run from the mafia, it’s a nightmare to get a hold of you! Is it because you’re still following around your group of muscular dumb-dumbs?”

You smile as you break a piece of red velvet cake to pop into your mouth. “It’s more the dumb-dumbs that are dragging me around. We set up this system so they can do their batshit crazy stuff without having to travel far and be apart from me for weeks.”

“And you’re okay with that?” She quirks a brow. “Isn’t it a bit like putting your life on hold for them?”

“Oh, traveling around the world with five hunks in love with me is a nightmare. Save me, Bathsheba!” You dramatically declare as you pretend to swoon.

Disgust twists her pretty features. “Ew, why did I want to reconnect with you? Is this what I’ve become? I’m friend with a… dork.”

You wink over your tea cup. “Worse. I’m your only friend.”

Bathsheba cries dramatically behind her hands and you can’t help but laugh. Suddenly you hear your phone ring and you check out who is calling.

A picture of Hank #1 laying on a beach with boobs made of sand flashes onto your screen. Weird, your boyfriends are supposed to be snowboarding all day and come home late. You pick up the call. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Hi babe… Uh… We have some news, but don’t panic, okay?”

“Why? What’s happening?” You sit up as worry gnaws at your insides. Bathsheba stares at you when she realizes that something serious is going on.

“It’s Hank #3… He fell and got hurt, he’s being transported to the hospital.” You let out a gasp, and your boyfriend rushes to reassure you. “He’s not in danger! He probably just broke something in his knee.”

“Which hospital is he being sent to?” You grab your purse to fish out a few dollar bills that you place on the table. You hear Hank #1’s muffled voice as he asks around. “…They say he’s going to Grandview Hospital.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.” You rush out of the cafe in a panic, Bathsheba runs after you.

“You forgot your purse.” She thrusts the bag in your hand.

“You don’t have to come, babe. We’ll be home as soon as this is over.” Hank #1 reassures you.

“I’m not waiting alone.” You reply. “And I want to see him.”

“Okay, see ya. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You end the call and stand in the middle of the mall, completely confused and panicked. You’re unable to recall where you’ve parked the car, or how you’re going to find your way out of here. Your stupid brain can only picture Hank #3 in a hospital room, broken and in pain.

Bathsheba looks at your distressed face and your trembling hands, and she grabs your shopping bags from you. “Okay, you’re in no state to drive. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“Bath, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to–”

“Just accept my help!” She snaps as she spins on her high heels to march her way down the hallway. You jog to catch up with her and fall into steps. You guess that you’ll have to ask your boyfriends to help you get your car later.

Bath’s car is a beautiful, sleek black coupe. You slide in the passenger seat silently while she types in the address of the hospital in her GPS. A Britney Spears playlist starts blasting in her car when she turns it on, and she lowers the volume with a sheepish look.

“You okay over there?” She asks when she backs out of the parking space and drives away.

You press your forehead against her window. “I’m worried.”

“Relax, he’s going to be fine.” Bathsheba waves her hand as if to flick your worries away. “Those guys have in muscles what they lack in braincells, they’re hard to kill. Which one is it?”

“Hank #3.”

She smacks her gum while staring you down with a quirked brow, as if to say that doesn’t help at all.

“… the redhead.”

“Ohhh…” Bath nods. “Got it.”

“Haven’t you known the Hanks for years?” You pretend to accuse her, but you’re merely joking. “They were in the room right next to you.”

She cringes. “No offense, but I was not interested in getting to know a collective hive-mind of frat boys.”

“Each of them are their own person now.” You explain as you watch the landscape move. “The realization procedure kind of… split them apart. It’s been fun seeing them explore what they like and develop their own ways to express who they are.”

“Mmh… still think they’re creepy though.”

“Bath!”

“Ugh, sorry. Being nice is hard!”

***

The doors slam open as you burst into the waiting room of the hospital with an anxious frown, Bathsheba hot on your heels.  Your boyfriends are sprawled in a variety of ridiculous positions in old, worn out chairs as they wait, all still dressed in their ski attire. Hank #4 sits upside down while he keeps throwing his ski mask in the air and catching it. Hank #5 is napping, his head resting on Hank #2’s shoulder. Hank #1 is pacing nervously, his thumb tucked between his teeth.

When they see you they perk up. “Babe!” Which wakes up your brunette, who sits up with bleary eyes.

Hank #2 looks at Bathsheba. “Oh, you’re the mean bathtub. It’s been a while.”

She clicks her tongue. “It’s Bathsheba. But I wouldn’t expect a stupid hanger to remember–”

Sensing the upcoming fight, you cut off Bathsheba. “What’s the diagnosis?”

“Dunno.” Hank #4 grumbles. “The doc said we were too loud, so he kicked us out.”

“Said something ‘bout an X-ray.” Hank #1 jumps in. “But that’s all we know so far.”

You fall in a chair with a huff. “Thank you for driving me, Bath.” You smile weakly at your friend.

Pushing around a balled up paper with the tip of her expensive Louboutins, she answers awkwardly. “You’re welcome. I’ll… see you around?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “I’d love to hang out again. This was fun.”

Bathsheba seems to light up at your admission, and she gives one last judging look at your boys before she leaves.

“So you guys are homies again?” Hank #5 asks.

“I guess so.” You shrug. “She apologized and even insisted to drive me here.”

“Hmm…” Hank #5’s lips curl in a smirk as he peers out of the waiting room window. “Nope, no flying pigs.”

“Dude, pigs don’t fly.” Hank #4 corrects him with a smug face.

Nobody even bothers to explain the joke to him.

“What happened for Hank #3 to injure himself?” You ask.

A collective sigh broke out. “That idiot was going too fast, and he fell trying to avoid a child.” Hank #1 explains.

After an hour of waiting you finally see Hank #3. He is in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse, his right knee secured by a brace, a red bruise on his cheek. You feel bad for how absolutely miserable he looks.

“Alright.” Despite his tired eyes, the nurse smiles broadly at the group. “Your friend has a partially torn ACL, thankfully he didn’t tear it all the way out. He should be able to practice sports again after three months of rest.”

“Three months?!” The rest of the group exclaims, you guess the doctor has already broken the news to Hank #3, since he doesn’t seem surprised at all. Although that definitely explains his sour mood.

“No sports at all? Nothing?” You ask, and the nurse shakes his head.

“He can still do jogging and cycling. He just has to be careful not to put too much stress on his knee.”

“Jogging and cycling.” Hank #4 cries dramatically. “The lamest sports ever!”

“It’s just for a little while.” The nurse reassures everyone with a kind smile. He gives you a paper. “The doctor prescribed physiotherapy, he’ll need to strengthen his hamstrings to protect his weakened ligaments. You ought to be careful though, next time you fall it may tear completely. And if that happens you’re going straight to surgery.”

The rest of the Hanks look at their brother with pity, and you lay a comforting hand on the redhead. He doesn’t even look at you, instead his gaze is fixated on the brace trapping his knee.

“Safe recovery, Hank!” The nurse says.

Hank #3 smiles weakly as he waves at the man.

***

You lean your hip against the doorway as you watch your boys load up the van once again. Hank #3 is by your side dressed in sweats, resting his weight on crutches.

“You sure it doesn’t bother you homie?” Hank #5 asks, concerned. “We can wait until you’re better to go together.”

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” He shrugs. “There will be other opportunities.”

“If you say so…” Hank #2 purses his lips, then he turns to you. “You make sure he does his physiotherapy, sunshine?”

“Of course.” You grin.

“We’ll be back in two days.” Hank #1 says.

“Hav fun my boys, and no injuries this time, please!”

Hank #2 laughs nervously while the others reply with a teasing “No promises!”.

You catch Hank #3’s gaze following the car driving off while he sags against the doorway. “You didn’t have to lie, you know?” You tell him not unkindly. “I can tell it’s upsetting you that they’re leaving without you.”

“Now, why would I be upset when I have you all to myself for two days?” Hank #3 grins, but it doesn’t reach his pretty green eyes. “Wanna play nurse?”

You roll your eyes fondly as you lead him inside the house. The Hanks rarely stay home for more than a day before they start to feel restless, so you know this must be pure torture for you poor boyfriend to stay on the couch with his leg propped up. He’s changing the TV channel with a bored look, and after ten minutes his eyes land on you, sitting on the ground working on your laptop. “Whatcha doin’?”

You huff in frustration as you readjust your reading glasses. “Taxes. I can’t figure out in which category you guys fit. Is it influencers? Athletes?”

“I dunno, usually Hank #1 takes care of this.” He shrugs. “Have you looked for Professional hunks?”

“Ha. Ha.” You deadpan.

You feel his stare burning into the back

of your skull as you keep trying to figure out your paperwork, which you try your best to ignore. Then you feel a finger poke your cheek.

“Babe.” Hank #3 calls you, you pointedly ignore him. His annoyed huff almost makes you break character, but you hold on. “Baaaabe. I’m like Tinkerbell, if you don’t pay attention to me soon I’ll DIE.”

“Oh my god, such a drama queen.” You snicker. Abandoning your laptop for now, you climb into his lap carefully to not bump his knee. He wraps his arms around your middle and bury his nose in your hair.

“Why are you sniffing me?”

“I’m not telling you.” Hanks grins in your hair.

After a cuddle session you disentangle yourself from your redhead to help him do the at home exercises the physiotherapist asked him to do. He looks uncharacteristically serious as he does each movement with control. A wince from time to time betrays that he’s actually in pain, and when you make him bend his leg he hisses.

“Sorry.” You cringe, and he shakes his head.

You lather oil in your palms and start massaging the muscles around, each movement of your fingers has him tremble with pain, yet he’s holding on.

Sweaty and tired from the pain, Hank #3’s tall body is sprawled over the couch when you’re done. Staring at the ceiling with a crestfallen look, his deep green eyes flicker to your face, picking apart every little detail.

“What’s going on with you?” You rub your thumb against a furrowed brow to smooth it. “You’re acting weird. It’s worrying me.”

He’s opening his mouth to speak, then he closes it as if regretting it. Finally when you glare at him, ordering him to say what’s on his mine, he avoids your gaze. “It still hurts like a bitch.”

“It’s been only three weeks, babe. Give your body some time.” You brush his sweaty curls away from his forehead. But he looks unconvinced. “Don’t worry, you’ll heal.”

“… The doctors told me I’ll keep injuring myself.” He blurts out.

“Why?”

“They said…” He huffs. “They told me I’m doing too much, and my body’s paying the price. They ran other tests, and apparently most of my articulations are wearing down too fast. If I keep doing reckless shit I’m just going to injure myself again and again. And in the end I won’t even be able to walk when I’ll be an old fart.”

“O–oh…” You deflate. You didn’t know. And didn’t expect it to be this bad. The Hanks were still young and healthy, but you guess they aren’t used to having a human body. “I’m sorry Hank, this is my fault.” You sigh.

“Huh?” He quirks a brow as he sits up. “Why would it be you fau–”

“I’m the human. I should’ve watched over you. Made sure you took care of you body. You couldn’t know you were damaging it.”

“Babe, what?” He huffs a laugh. “I’d never ask that of you. You’re not my mom. I’m old enough to know that when I force my meat suit to slide down a hill on a snowboard for hours on end I’m straining my body.”

You try not to make a disgusted face at the words meat suit. “It’s just…” He lets himself collapse in the couch. “What will I do if I can’t play any sports again? If I can’t keep up…” He trails off with large, wet green eyes.

I’ll be left behind. You can almost hear the words he’s too afraid to say out loud.

So that’s what’s been souring his mood. He’s terrified of being abandoned. And considering he’s been looking at you strangely for weeks now you guess he expects you to somehow grow bored of him too.

“Babe...” You shake your head with a laugh. “Okay, let me ask you a question. Am I a good skier?”

He furrows his brows like you’ve asked him the most out of pocket question he’s ever heard. “…you suck at it. Like, big time.”

“Correct.” You boop his nose. “Yet you still take me skiing every winter, and you stop to wait for me every time I’m falling behind. Why?”

“Because I… know you can’t keep up with me.” Hank #3’s eyes flicker to you as understanding dawns on him. “But I still want to spend time with you.”

You grin. “We love you, you silly man. You think we’re ever going to leave you behind because you can’t push you body as hard as before?”

Hank #3’s cheeks flushes as he averts his eyes, but you can’t miss the glint of relief in the pretty forest green.

Your phone chimes. You unlock it and a text from Hank #5 pops up.

Ain’t the same without Hank #3. It blows. We’re on our way home with snacks & soda. See U soon <3.

You show the text to your boyfriend with a warm smile. “See?”

Hank #3 reads the message, and his face softens.

***

You watch as Hank #4 sets up the Scrabble board on the coffee table. This is a very stupid idea, you love your boyfriends to death but they’re not exactly the brightest bunch. And so you expect this game to be the biggest shitshow you’ve ever seen.

Perched on the couch between Hank #5 and Hank #3, you cradle your hot cocoa as you stare at the tiles you’ve drawn. Okay, not bad. You could maybe write Bored, or maybe Door ?

“Okay, the youngest starts !” Hank #5 declares as he grabs his tiles. “And that’s me, losers.”

“We were born, like, five seconds apart.” Hank #4 rolls his eyes childishly. “But if ya want bro.”

Hank #5 ignores him as he arranges his letters on the board, you lean closer to read what he’s written.

Beleive.

“Congrats, you’ve already made a typo.” You deadpan.

“That’s how it’s pronounced!” Hank #5, ever the sore loser, protests with red cheeks.

“Let me Google it to check.” Hank #1 says as he grabs his phone.

“This game is going to take all night.” You whine.

“Good thing we don’t have anywhere else to be.” Hank #2 smiles.

“She’s right.” Hank #1 declared, and Hank #5 refuses to look at you as he switches the tiles around, already feeling the smugness radiating from you.

“My turn!” Hank #4 slams his tiles on the board.

Dick.

“Noice!” Hank #3 high fives the blonde.

“…Are swear words allowed?” Hank #2 asks.

“I don’t know.” You reply. “I’ve lost the rule book.”

“Let’s just say they are.” Hank #3 rubs his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

***

The rest of the evening was spent with the whole group trying to write the dumbest shit possible, completely ignoring most of the rules of Scrabble. Your dinner was a very healthy mix of chips, candies and soda that left you high on sugar. Giddy like a teenager, you’re laughing at each joke and word even if they weren’t very funny.

It’s late in the night when you all fall asleep in a heap on the couch. Hank #3 is the most uncomfortable he’s ever been. You’re curled in a ball by his side drooling on his shirt, Hank #4 is sprawled across his lap snoring like a dog and cutting his blood circulation, Hank #1’s foot is somehow pressing against his face. Yet he doesn’t want to move at all.

His body may be damaged, he may one day be unable to play his favorite sports, but now, he’s surprisingly okay with it.

He won’t lose what truly matters.

Chapter Text

You stir awake with a blissed sigh, eyes fluttering open. The bedroom is quiet. The sunlight, softened by the curtains, warms your face, and you feel fuzzy and safe in your little cocoon.

The comforting weight of Hank #5’s sleeping body is slotted against yours, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried in your neck. Your boyfriends can be pretty independent, sometimes leaving for several days, yet when they return they transform into a bunch of clingy puppies that can’t stay away from you for too long.

Fingers brush some stray strands of hair away from your face, and you turn to meet the dark eyes of Hank #1. “Mornin’, baby.” He smiles. You hum softly in response. 

“What time is it?” You whisper to not disturb the sleeping man. 

“Almost ten.” Hank #1 responds. 

Your brows raise in disbelief. “And you’re still in bed?”

“Yeah, ‘wanted to stay with you for a bit.” He smiles softly before burying his nose in your hair. His beard tickles you.“You smell like sleep in the morning.” 

“Don’t smell my breath.” You reply, earning yourself a chuckle. “Any plans for today?”

“You remember Chuck, the dope guy that rented his apartment in Sydney to us?” He tangles his legs with yours, accidentally bumping into Hank #5, who only stirs to lay closer to your body. “He asked me if we wanted a little free scuba diving lesson with him, you in?” 

“I was planning to do some research to find an art class, but this seems more fun.” 

His eyes widen like saucers. “You wanna go back to school? Damn, babeski. You’re a soldier.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his surprise. “Some people enjoy school, you know?”

“Barf.” He deadpans. “But seriously, that’s dope AF that you’re following your dreams.”

“Aww, thanks.” You go to kiss him, but you’re encumbered by Hank #5’s tight grasp. Hank #1 laughs softly when he sees you fall back into bed with a huff.

Peaceful, quiet moments like these are rare in your household. So you’re not surprised when the door suddenly slams open, startling your brunette awake. 

“Good morning homies!” Hank #4 chirps as he jumps on the bed. 

“Fuck’s sake, Four!” Hank #5 hisses at the blonde, one eye still closed. “You’re so annoying.”

“Aw, dude’s a big grump grump when he doesn’t have his thirteen hours of sleep.” Hank #3 teases. 

“Fuck off.” He grumbles as he settles back against you. You pacify your grumpy boyfriend by scratching his scalp gently with your nails, and he almost purrs as he melts. 

“What’s up, baby-boy?” You ask, the blonde man grins as he pulls out an envelope that has been previously tucked behind the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“It’s time~” He sings cheerfully, and when you pick up the envelope you recognize the luxurious paper and the beautiful cursive letters spelling your name and address. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you break the wax seal to reveal its content. “She’s always so extra.” You comment fondly.

You unfold the letter impatiently.

Dearest Human and Hanks,

I hope this letter finds you well.

It is with the utmost pleasure that I invite you to our annual meeting, which will take place the third of September in the city of Dallas, Texas. 

Please reach out to Florence for details on the venue and accommodations. 

As usual, I expect you to make the proper arrangements to be available at this date.

I very much look forward to the opportunity of seeing you all again. 

Sincerely, 

Mayor Celia Stipple, President of the HOA

“She still calls herself our Mayor.” You grin fondly. “She’s so cute.”

Hank #5 peers at the paper with sleepy eyes. “Think everyone will make it this time?”

“They will, if they do not want to face granny’s wrath.” Hank #4 cringes. “She can be real scary, remember the time we accidentally knocked over Prissy while Hank gliding?” 

The others repress a shudder. 

You press the thick, rich paper against your nose to inhale the comforting scent. You feel giddy at the prospect of seeing again all the people that you now call family. All of the former house dwellers have scattered across the world over the years. You miss them painfully hard, and you somehow miss the months you spent cooped up with all of them in your house, sharing the same space together. 

Though everyone calls and texts you regularly which, let’s be honest, can be pretty overwhelming.

You will need to be patient, the meeting is scheduled in two months. 

September cannot come any faster.

***

“Are we there yet?” 

The Hanks all react audibly in a mix of amusement and annoyance. They stopped counting the number of times you’ve asked that question since you’ve departed this morning.

“Waze says we’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Hank #1 replies. 

“Ughhh!” You throw your head back dramatically. “This is taking forever! We should be here by now.”

“Oh, my bad, dudette.” Hank #1 snarks. “Let me just use my awesome mind powers to make the traffic jam disappear!”

It earns him a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. I’ll curb the excitement.”

“Or just find a way to release all of that pent up energy.” Hank #3’s tone drops as he bites his lip. 

“I’m booored.” Hank #4 suddenly cries. “I think I’m dying of boredom. Can humans actually die of boredom?”

“We’re about to find out.” You reply dryly. 

“Let’s just leave the car somewhere and walk.” Hank #5 suggests.

“Great idea.” Hank #2 deadpans. “Let’s leave the car in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and walk down the interstate.”

“…I was just saying.” Hank #5 pouts. 

“Sorry, bro.” Hank #2 throws him an apologetic look. “It’s just… I need to stretch my legs.”

Hank #1 actually considers banging his head against the steering wheel to not hear any longer the constant bickering and pestering of his homies. He may love every single one of them to death, it doesn’t mean that he enjoys spending thirteen hours crammed in a jam packed car with them. And to top it all off, they’re stuck in a traffic–

He gasps when the cars further up the road starts moving. “We’re moving!”

The whole group hoots and hollers while the car starts again… and then comes to a stop fifty feet further. 

“How…” You grind your teeth together as your patience reaches a breaking point. “How long is this going to fucking take?!”

After twenty minutes you manage to escape the traffic jam. And you all arrive at the location exhausted and frazzled. Once the car is finally parked you all scramble to get out, and you heave a sigh of relief when you feel fresh air that hasn’t been breathed out by any of your boys.

“Next time we’re taking a plane.” Hank #1’s tone leaves no room for argument. 

“Ah, isn’t that our merry band of troublemakers?” You hear a gentle but strong and commanding voice. Happiness surges inside you as you spin around to find your favorite Mayor with her assistant and partner by her side.

Florence chuckles when she sees you drop your bags and rush to envelop the two women in a crushing hug. While she returns the embrace gladly, Celia is a little bit more reserved. The older woman awkwardly pats your back, but you don’t miss the way her hand lingers even after releasing her. 

“I’m so happy to see you!” You beam, grin almost splitting your face in two. “You look great.”

“You too, dear.” Celia smiles warmly. “Let us take you to your bedrooms, then we can talk.”

“Rooms?” Hank #1 tilts his head to the side, confused by her use of the plural.

“Why, yes.” Celia blinks innocently. “Each one of you has a room, we wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

There is a moment of silence, where each of the Hanks and their favorite human look appalled at the idea of sleeping alone, and Florence grins. “Kidding! Grab your stuff, we’ll take you to your room.”

You take a pretty long walk through the hotel, the hallways seemingly stretching for miles. Finally you arrive at the section of the hotel reserved for the hundreds of former furnitures and appliances that populated your old house. Florence unlocks the door and gives you the key card. Once inside you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the two king size beds pushed together in the middle of the room. Ever since you’ve sold your house and started living with your boyfriends you have difficulties sleeping without them close to you.

Celia checks her phone. “We have to go, Volt and Eddie will arrive soon. Our cocktail dinner will be held in the hotel’s ballroom, starting time is 6 o’clock, sharp.” She gives you a warning look, knowing you’re always late to functions.

“You got it, Mayor of Dope city!” Hank #2 salutes the older woman, the other men instantly following. Celia merely reacts with a tired look.

When Celia and Florence leave you start to unpack. Hank #4 recognizes the long form fitting black dress you lay on the bed. “Damn, babe. You didn’t come to play.”

You eye the attire of your blonde himbo. He’s currently lounging on the bed without a care in the world, legs spread wide. He’s wearing grey sweatpants that are too tight in places where they definitely shouldn’t be, and his muscular stomach is shamelessly exposed thanks to a crop top that has a dinosaur printed on the front with the sentence I have homosexual tendencies. You’re torn between the urge to mock him and jump his bones to fuck his smooth brains out.

“You better be changing into something more appropriate, pretty boy.” You order, and suddenly his breath hitches and his cheeks redden. Interesting.

This seems to have awaken something inside Hank #4, who’s now looking at you with dark eyes. The color of a forest at dusk. “Or what?” He provokes, tone dropping an octave.

“Guys. Stooop.” Hank #2 groans as he attempts to button up his shirt. “Go do that somewhere else!”

You exchange an amused look with Hank #4 and decide to save for later the fact that your blondie seems very into being dominated. 

You’re buzzing with excitement at the idea that you’ll be seeing your entire found-family soon. You throw on your dress, put on makeup and finally your black heels. 

You see in the reflection of the mirror Hank #3 stand behind you, dressed in a navy blue shirt and a pair of woolen slacks. His red curls freshly washed and styled. He looks devastatingly handsome. Eyes sweeping over your form, his lips quirked in an enamored smile, and soon he’s stepping closer to wrap his arms loosely around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. You lay your hand atop his and lean back against his chest.

“Hey gorgeous.” He hums, this time he strangely has no pick-up line or sexual innuendo in store. He simply slowly sways your two bodies from side to side as he stares into your eyes in the mirror. 

“You clean up nicely.” You say, and he preens at your compliment. 

“Uh… Isn’t the reception supposed to start at six?” Hank #5 asks as he looks at his smart watch. “It’s 6:20.”

You gasp as you jump away from Hank #3 to look for your bag frantically. “WE’RE LATE PEOPLE!”

“Wait, I can’t find my other shoe!” Hank #4 cries, and he scrambles to catch the shoe you’re hurling at him. 

“Sunshine, it’s fine.” Hank #2 laughs. “Barry will probably be even more late. He always forgets the time we’re supposed to meet at.”

“Celia will still be pissed at us!” 

You rush your boys and hurry down the corridors of the hotel looking for the ballroom. An employee kindly guides you to the venue, and as you approach the doors you can already hear familiar voices bicker and laugh. 

As you enter you’re blinded by the beauty of the ballroom, with tall windows that stretch all the way to the ceiling, a huge golden chandelier that bathes everything in a candlelit glow, and the beautiful paintings spanning meters in length. At the centre of the room a crowd has gathered to talk, and some turns to look at you. 

“Oh. My. God!” A high pitched voice screams excitedly, and you see a small redhead weaving her way past the others. Then she breaks in a terrifying sprint and collides with you in a hug. “My favorite human is finally here!” 

You chuckle as you return the embrace with enthusiasm. “Harper! It’s so good to see you!”

She pulls away to look at you, her palms clutching your face a bit too tightly. “You look great! How have you been? Are the Hanks treating you well?– I hope they are, or else they’re going to face my wrath.– Oh my god, I have so much to tell you!”

“Harp.” You grin. “Breathe.”

The girl is almost trembling with how excited she is, and she draws a sheepish smile. “Sorry. My psychiatrist diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder and I’m struggling with the therapy. Oh– is it TMI? Hi Hanks.” She waves at the men. 

“Hi Homie!” They all respond back cheerfully.

You eyes fall on her arms, the only part that isn’t covered by her dress, and you admire the inked skin. “That’s a nice collection of tattoos, how many do you have?”

“I stopped counting after twenty.” She grins. “They’re like a drug, you know? As soon as you’re done with one you’re already thinking about the next. Look–” 

She turns to show you her back, and she pulls at her dress to uncover her shoulder. Your smile drops when you see a perfect copy of your face tattooed there, with the caption BFF. 

Hank #3 leans over to see. “Is that a new tatt– Oh, what the hell?!”

The others look positively flabbergasted as they stare at the portrait of their girlfriend. “What do you guys think?!” Harper grins, ecstatic. 

“Uh…” You all look at each other. “It’s… really… well… done?” You force a smile.

Hank #4 slaps a hand over his mouth as he turns away to hide the struggle he’s having to conceal his laughter. You still hear him giggling while trying to whisper to Hank #3. “It’s– hihi– so…–pfff– it’s so creepy!”

“Do you love it?” Harper asks. “Now you’re always by my side!”

“Y–yeah.” You smile nervously. “Love it.”

“Oof.” She sighs in relief. “My therapist said this was a bad idea, but what does she know?”

“Yeah, this is such a normal behavior.” Hank #2 comments, but the girl ignores him pointedly. 

“Well.” Hank #1 saves you by gently pulling you away with a hand on your shoulder. “We gotta say hello to the others, see ya later Harp!”

As you walk away, the Hanks decide to scatter to talk to the rest of the former objects. When you see Volt and Eddie you wave at them with a bright smile. “Live wire!”  Volt beams as he squeeze your shoulder affectionately. “You look incredible! It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“Hi Volt. Hi Eddie.” 

“Hank.” Eddie smiles at Hank #5, the only one that has remained at your side. “You look great. And still in one piece, surprisingly.”

“This meat suit is surprisingly resistant.” Hank #5 bangs a fist against his chest. 

“Stop calling your human body a meat suit!” You whine.

Volt offers each of you a glass of champaign.  Strangely both Eddie and his partner watch you intensely as he holds up a glass for you. And when you take it they seem to deflate a bit. They recover, but not fast enough for you to miss it. “To family!” Volt raises his glass as a toast, and you all repeat the words “To family.” before taking a sip.

“How is business going?” You ask the couple.

“It’s going great!” Eddie takes a sip of champaign. “We’re going bigger this time. We’ve saved enough to buy an old factory in San Francisco. We plan to renovate it and turn it into several art studios.”

“That’s awesome, guys.” You can’t help but mirror their happiness. They both are glowing, successful in their professional and personal lives. Sometimes you lie awake at night worrying about the objects you’ve realized, wondering if you haven’t made a colossal mistake by releasing them into a world they know nothing about. But each one of them found their path and blended with society seamlessly.

“We’re planning to keep one for you, live wire.” Volt grins. “Your crazy mind needs a proper place to unleash its creativity.”

“Oh–” You feel touched, and you can picture how exciting it must be to work with other artists. Yet you force a smile. “It’s very kind of you, but we’re rarely on the west coast. The boys prefer to surf in Hawaii. So that art studio will be wasted on me, I’m afraid.”

Hank #5 studies you face quietly, and his brows furrows when he notices a tinge of disappointment tugging at your lips. 

Eddie smiles kindly. “The offer still stands. We have just started, so you will have some time to think about it.”

They move on to speak with Timmy and Freddy, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. 

“You okay?” Hank #5 asks, gently tilting your chin up with a knuckle to make you look at him. He looks strangely worried as his baby brown eyes scan your face.

“Of course.” You smile warmly, and this time it’s a hundred percent genuine. 

“You…” He bits down slightly on his lip as he strokes your cheek. “You’d tell me if you were… bummed with the way things are, right, babydoll?”

You blink. “Oh, is this about Volt and Eddie’s offer? It sounds cool, sure. But I’m happy with my life the way it is.”

“You sure?” 

You stare at him longly, and this time you take the time to think about it. You enjoy traveling across the world and watch your boyfriends learn about life and discover new things. It’s thrilling and gratifying. But…

“Sometimes I’m just… wondering how long we can keep this up. But we have time. And I’m very happy with my life, truly.”

He narrows his eyes as if making sure you’re not lying. Once he’s satisfied he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Okay, baby.”

“Cuuute.” 

You both turn to find Betty, Farya and Barry openly staring. Cheeks flushing, you wished a hole would open and swallow you.

“Hey guys.” You say sheepishly. Betty wraps her arms around both of you, and you melt against her. The woman‘s hugs are so comforting they truly rival Matteo’s. “How are my former roommates? My closet feels really empty without you.” She asks in her soothing voice. 

“We’re awesome!” Hank #5 grins broadly, his voice charged with his usual cheer. “We just did the highest bungee jump in Europe in Switzerland, it was gnarly!”

“Oh yeah, I saw the video on your ValdiTube channel.” Farya says. 

“Still adrenaline junkies, uh?” Barry chuckles. “I get it, I am also a slave for the thrills. That’s why I love bridal makeup. It’s very stressful and demanding, but I get such a high when I see the bride glowing with happiness and beauty!” The former embodiment of your beauty supplies then throws you a sly look. “Can’t wait to do yours, by the way.” And then he has the nerve to wink.

“Barry!” You snap while Hank #5 flushes. 

You catch Farya and Betty staring at your flat belly, then exchange a look. Then the doctor turns to you. “You look healthy, any weird symptoms lately?” 

“…No?” You quirk a brow. “Just allergies.”

“Mmh… but perhaps it’s not just allergies.” Farya snaps her fingers. “Have you been tested for pneumonia?”

“Farya, I’m fine!” You chuckle. “Do you want me to be sick so you can experiment on me?”

“No!” She shoots back, but even she looks unconvinced by her own response.

“Is that alcohol?” Barry points at your glass, when you nod he sighs.

“You guys are being so weird tonight.” You narrow your eyes at the motley group of people. “Is something going on?”

“No, no.” Betty smiles as she waves her hands. “We’re just happy to see you.”

They all but scramble away from you, and you fell silent.

“Is it me or are they–”

“They’re totally being way weirder than usual.” Hank #5 responds, and you sigh. 

If someone ought to know what’s going on, it’s Wyndolyn. That woman is a gossip addict to the point where she managed to host a TV show where she regularly debriefs rumors about celebrities. 

As you look around for the head of sunset colored red hair you stop occasionally to have a chat with the others. You meet Dunk, River and Penelope along the way. And finally you spot Wyndolyn having a chat with Curt & Rod.

“Hey, how are my favorite celebrities!” You greet them with a bright smile. Each of them embrace you happily, and then Hank #5.

“I was just telling the boys that Curt looks skinnier in real life.” Wyndolyn says with her usual bluntness.

“The camera adds ten pounds!” Curt grumbled. 

“Are you sure this isn’t the free buffets that comes with the shootings?” Rod teases, and he snickers when he receives a withering look.

“You look rad, dude.” Hank #5 says, and Curt beams.

“I knew I liked you for a reason, hanger man!” 

While you catch up with your friends you notice Wyndolyn staring at your stomach, and you roll your eyes. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Huh?” Her sky blue eyes give you an innocent look. “What are you talking about?”

“You guys are acting fucking weird. What’s with all the staring at my belly and asking about my drinks?”

Curt and Rod exchange a nervous look while Wyndolyn blanches. The pair tries to quietly flee the scene, but Hank #5 wraps an arm around the shoulders of each man to stop them. 

“C’mon homies, why the long faces?” Hank #5 asks in his usual kind tone, but they don’t miss the way his hold tighten around them. 

“Uh oh.” Curt mutters.

“I’m just… impressed by your weight loss.” Wyndolyn responds. 

“Bullshiiiit.” Hank #5 says in a sing-song.

“Maybe I should ask Nightmare to make you three talk.” You threaten. 

“Ugh, this is just a stupid bet!” Rod blurts out.

Wyndolyn and Curt throw him an aggravated look, but he ignores them. “We’ve been betting on which family reunion you’re gonna announce your pregnancy at.”

“My what?!” “Her what?!” Hank and you both cry at the same time. 

“Yeah.” Wyndolyn sighs loudly in defeat. “Back in the house, Betty overheard our resident Hunk talking about his dream of becoming a father, and then the not-so discreet innuendos about making a baby with you. So when she told Bathsheba about it they started betting on when he would get you pregnant … word got around and…”

“How many, Wynd?” You whisper, silently seething, eyes speaking of murder. “How many are in on your stupid bet?”

The woman looks outright nervous. “… Eighty?”

“Eighty?!” You choke on your saliva.

“Dude, that’s private stuff.” Hank #5 mutters, reeking of embarrassment. The others throw him an apologetic look.

“We’re sorry, man.” Curt pats him on the back. “It got out of hand. And now the stakes are stupidly high, there’s like twenty grand in the pot now.”

Your jaw is about to hit the floor. Those humongous idiots have been betting for years on your uterus? “Ugh, I hate you all!” You shout before stomping away to fill your glass.

“Wow, she’s mad.” Curt cringes. 

“She’s so mad.” Rod adds, looking as uncomfortable. 

“What did you guys bet?” Hank #5 asks, curious. 

“Like the majority of us, I expected this year to be the one.” Wyndolyn says sheepishly. “Maybe that’s why we acted weird, we got too excited.”

“I already lost.” Curt grumbles. “I guessed a year after your realization.”

“I’m guessing six years.” Rod adds. “So you guys better take your time.”

“Are you mad at us?” The former window asks, guilt swimming in the blue of her eyes. 

“Nah, not really.” Hank shrugs. “But I have a question.”

“Shoot.” Curt says. Hank #5 pulls out his wallet and opens it. 

“Can I place a bet?”

“Hell no!” Rod snaps. “That’s cheating!”

***

Hank #5 finds you by the bar alone, cradling a cocktail and fuming to yourself. “Hey.”

Your head snaps, and the fury in your eyes quells when you see him. “Oh, hey.”

He places a warm hand on your lower back, stroking your flesh comfortingly. “You look pretty upset there.” 

You close your eyes. “It’s just so embarrassing. Those idiots made bets on when you were going to breed me! Ew!”

“First of all, you saying the words ‘breed me’ is making me weirdly horny. We’ll unpack that later.” Hank #5 jokes, making you crack a smile. “And secondly, I may have an idea on how we could get back at them…”

“Oh…” You lean closer, a mischief gleam in your eye. “I’m all ears.”

“Well… we’re gonna need the help of the others…”

***

“I’m unbelievably proud of you.” Celia says into her microphone, emotional as she gives her yearly speech. “You’ve all managed to turn into incredible human beings. You’re an example of how anyone can turn a difficult situation into true personal success.”

The rest of your family is listening intently, safe for Hank #5 and you, who are giggling evilly to yourselves. 

Celia raises her glass with shining eyes. “To our humanity.”

“To our humanity!” The others respond.

You gesture wildly to the head of your family, who notices you. “Oh, our human has something to share. Please come to the stage, dear.”

The Hanks follow you onto the stage, where you face all of your friends. Your brunette takes his role very seriously as he wraps an arm around your waist as a show of protectiveness. You take a deep breath, then you grab the mic. “Hey guys… we’ve got a bit of an announcement to make.” 

The audience holds its breath, and you resist the urge to laugh when some almost have dollar signs for eyes. 

“We’re having a baby!”

The crowd burst in a chorus of happiness and excitement, congratulating you profusely. 

“Oh my god, it’s the first human-object offspring!” Farya gasps.

“How far along are you?!” Zoey bounces on her feet. 

“I’m gonna be an uncle!” Freddy dabs a tissue at his eyes.

You almost feel bad for tricking them, but then you remember how they all basically spoke for months about Hank #5 and you raw dogging it. 

Hank #5 gets a little bit too into it as he grins proudly, one hand rubbing your stomach affectionately. 

“Since you’re all so very interested in that baby…” You begin, a sinister smile spreading over your lips. “We’ll tell you everything.”

Hank #5 grabs the mic from you with a smirk. “We boned under a blood moon on a Thursday. The baby making playlist was Eye of the Tiger on loop. We first started with a good ol’ missionary–”

He is cut off by a chorus of disgusted groans. You could see Timmy covering his ears with a horrified grimace. The only one with a smile was Ben-Hwa, who seems to be having the time of their life.

“– We’ve then performed an incredible Eiffel tower. To those in the audience that do not know this position, my colleagues will demonstrate.” Hank #5 points to the other Hanks, and the crowd screams.

Hank #3 chimes in. “I video taped everything in 4K as a souvenir, we will play the video right now.”

Everyone looks absolutely appalled when a projector screen rolls down from the ceiling. Some covers their eyes as others look at the screen as one would stare at an upcoming train-wreck. 

Instead of a video, a picture of Hank #4 appears on screen. He is crudely edited as a baby with a big pacifier in his mouth, showing both of his middle fingers at the camera.

The words Sike, Bitches! Blink tauntingly. 

“We know about your dumb ass bet, losers!” Hank #3 makes an L with his fingers on his forehead while sticking his tongue out childishly. “Too bad for you, our girlie’s oven is bun free!”

The silence is so loud one could hear a pin drop. Your family seems in shock at the reveal, then you hear someone burst laughing.

“This is the best family reunion ever.” Rebel keeps slapping their knee as they lean on Ben-Hwa to not fall.

“Great prank, Dork.” Dough claps. “Would have loved to see the sex tape though.”

As you leave the stage you see Betty heading towards you, her face red with embarrassment. “Hey friend, this whole bet thing is my fault… I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect this silly joke to get out of hand.”

You smile. “It’s fine, I’m already over it.” 

“This was quite an… unorthodox way to teach someone a lesson.” Celia clears her throat awkwardly as she appears at your side. “But I’m positive they will not try again.” 

“Thank you for being in on it.” You wink at the older woman, who responds with a flash of a smirk.

She recovers to clap her hands. “Time for desert.” And she disappears to take care of the rest of the reception.

Hank #5 pulls you aside. “Did you see their faces?” He snickers.

“They almost had a collective heart attack.” You shook your head. 

“Hey… Listen.” Hank #5 cradle your hand in his. “You know I’d never pressure you into anything, right? So if you don’t want kids that’s fine–” 

You interrupt your sweet man by pressing a finger against his lips. “Wanna place a bet too?” You ask, eyes shining with an emotion he’s too afraid to put a name on.

He quirks a brow quizzically, and you can’t stop the grin taking over your face. “Thirty dollars that we’ll announce the arrival of our baby next year.”

Brown eyes widen, followed by a stunned silence. “… Please tell me you’re not playing a prank on me too.” He whispers.

Your fingers fiddle with the collar of his dress shirt to occupy themselves. “I’m serious.” 

When your eyes met his they’re wet, sparkling with hope so intensely you feel yourself share the feeling. Suddenly he’s on you, sweeping you in his arms as he spins you around. You’re giggling as you cling to him, and he kisses you roughly.

Hank #5, as a proud member of the Hanks, is a good old adrenaline junky. He throws himself into danger without a second thought to feel chemicals course through his veins, his limbs trembling with the familiar thrill of risk-taking, his heart pounding.

Yet his heart has never pounded as hard, his limbs have never felt so weak, and he has never felt so high as of right now, by your side.

Chapter Text

Hank #3 lounges on the couch of the Airbnb with a coffee in hand, watching Hank #2 write frantically on his computer, as if possessed. “You’re.. really going at it, uh?” The redhead comments.

“I’m trying to lay down my epic idea before I forget it.” Hank #2 says. “It’s gonna be a key point for the plot.”

“The plot…” He trails off, staring at his friend. The man has been working on his book for months, and he’s already found an editor that is helping him correct his mistakes and giving him precious advice. “What’s the story about, again?”

“I’m not telling you until it’s finished.” Hank #2 blushes, self-conscious. And when Hank #3 tries to sneak a look at the screen the writer snatches his laptop away. “Piss off, dude!”

“Damn, sorry.” Hank #3 mutters. 

Hank #1 takes a seat next to him on the couch and grabs the television remote. “What’s with the long face, homie?” He asks.

“You guys all started working towards your dreams…” Hank #3 wrings his pale hands nervously. He can’t help but feel envious of his friends. Hank #1 has used the Hanks’ influence in extreme sports and found a brand that is excited about his weird ass idea of parachutes for dogs. Hank #4 is… well, he’s Hank #4. And sometimes he catches Hank #5 late at night studying pregnancy stuff on his phone. “It’s like we’re all sky diving, you guys have all jumped and I’m the only one still on the plane.”

“If you don’t know where to begin, why don’t you ask for help?” Hank #1 says, and now he feels a bit ridiculous for not even considering it. “You want to be a surgeon, right?”

“Yup.” 

“Let’s call house-homie, she’ll know what to do.” 

“Oh hell no–” He goes to stop Hank #1, but he’s already pressed the ‘call’ button. The redhead groans in shame as he hides his face in his hands.

After a few rings you answer with a “Hey babe! What’s up?” You cheery tone already soothing his nerves.

“Hi gorgeous.” Hank #1 greets you. “You remember when Hank #3 told us about his dream, right?”

“Of course, he wants to be a brain surgeon, right?” You say. “Why?”

“Well…” Hank #1 gives the redhead a side eye look. “Think you could help?”

“Really?!” You let out an excited cry. “He finally brought it up again?!” 

Hank #3 bristles. What do you mean by finally?! Sure, maybe he has been a bit reserved about his dream the past few years… and he might be a tiny little bit worried about the challenges he will have to face to get there.

“Yeah. He’s right next to me and you’re on speaker.” 

“Hi baby! Ready to go after your dream?” 

“…Sure.” He flushes as he attempts to appear casual. “Whatever.”

A sleepy Hank #4 wanders into the room, probably because he has heard your voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help! I could ask Mac to create you fake diplomas and a 4.0 GPA. They owe me a favor. You’ll have to study and take the MCAT though.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to open… books?” Hank #3 represses a gag, and you laugh.

“Oh, you will have to open loads of books. But I’m sure you’ll channel the nerd hidden inside of you! I’ll call Mac right away and keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks babe.” He smiles to himself.

“Bye!”

When you hang up Hank #1 laughs softly. “Damn, our girl was ready to roll.”

Something flutters inside his chest, and his eyes softens. His girl is truly something else.

*** 

When they return from their trip you come out with your arms loaded with books and files. “My loves!” You beam at the group. The men return your greeting with kisses and hugs. 

“What’s with all the stuff?” Hank #2 takes a peek at your books. And you turn away from him with a sneaky grin.

“That’s not for you, shoo!” And the dark haired man walks away with an amused shake of his head.

Hank #3 stops before you, hands buried in his pockets. “Hey.” 

“Hey, you.” You smile. “Help me?”

He grabs the heaviest load, which are five thick textbooks. “How to ace the MCAT?” He reads aloud the title of one of them. Another is about anatomy, and the next one about human physiology. 

“A little gift from Farya.” You explain. “They’re her old books from when she studied for the exam. She also sent me her notes and some tips. I have received your file from Mac, everything is ready for you.”

Hank #3 stands there stunned into silence. You have the nerve to stand there casually as if you didn’t just shift his life around for the second time. You look up at him with your pretty doe eyes, you had given him the same look four years ago when you had offered to turn him into a human. 

At first he thought all humans were like you, kind and benevolent, wearing their hearts on their sleeves. Yet after walking amongst them he’s realized– pun intended– that you’re special, and maybe the universe chose you on purpose when the dateviators were delivered to you.

The warmth in his chest swells and he swears he’s fallen in love with you all over again. The thought ignites another form of fire in his stomach, darker and more primal.

Because he’s missed you so much and he’s fucking smitten with you. For some reason your kindness really turns him on, and if he doesn’t do something about it right now he’s going to keel over. 

“Get in.” Hank #3 suddenly orders, and you blink as you follow him inside the house. 

“Something’s wrong?” You ask as you see him toss the books on the coffee table, then he takes the files from your hands. Hank #4 watches you curiously from the kitchen as he drinks a glass of water.

“Yup, a big problem.” Hanks #3 toss the files to join the books in a messy pile. “You’re not naked underneath me and I’m not eating you out.”

Hank #4 chokes on his drink while you freeze, bemused. The redhead takes this opportunity to sweep you off your feet and effortlessly throw you over his shoulder. “Hank!” You squeak.

He ignores you as he carries you up the stairs towards the bedroom. You struggle a bit, but a smack on your rear settles you with a gasp. He tosses you onto the bed, laughing at your wide angry eyes as you bounce on the bed. “You brute.” You hiss.

“You love when I manhandle you.” He grins wickedly. In one swift motion, he pulls his T-shirt off and let it fall at his feet. He leaves the door ajar on purpose, a silent invitation for the others to join if they feel like it. Your eyes are pulled like magnets towards his muscular torso, but you try to resist the temptation to openly stare.

“I hate it.” You say, leaning on your elbows to gaze at the man. “You’re just delusional.”

“And you’re a bad liar.” Hands sliding below your knees, he drags you towards him with a strong pull. Your lips part in surprise, and he takes this opportunity to grab your face and kiss you. 

Soft and passionate, his kiss has you surrendering to his touch. You even forget why you ever tried to resist in the first place. 

Hands finding purchase in his soft curls, you kiss him back fiercely. His calloused palm tickles your naked skin as it travels from your knees upwards. You let out a soft little moan that has his eyes darkening.

“Such a pretty voice.” He whispers against your lips in a husky tone.

A throbbing awakens between your legs at his compliment. Your fingers trace delicately the tattoo of a bird taking flight on his pectoral. He pulls down on the zipper of your dress, and you shudder when you feel cool air hit your skin. 

He helps you out of your dress, and takes a moment to admire your exposed body. Hank #3 has the sweetest blush on his cheeks, hunger shining brightly in his emerald eyes. 

“God, I love you.” He sighs like he’s in pain. You scramble to remove your bra, eager for more of his appraising gaze. And you shiver when his grip tightens on your hips in response to the view of your chest. 

“Can’t believe I manage to leave this house with your hot little ass strutting around. Either I’m strong willed or completely insane.” He says, voice taking that tone he uses when he’s flirting with you. 

“Bit of both.” You tease, and he looks down at you with a quirked brow.

“That’s right. Laugh at me while you still have the brain power to do so, gorgeous.” He threatens. You sigh when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts, the soft skin of your stomach until he stops at the waistband of your underwear. 

You feel like you’re catching fire, each brush of his fingers and lips leaves a blazing trail, which has you trembling like a bunny about to be devoured.

Hank #3 parts your thighs as he kneels on the floor between them. You jump when a finger graze over your sensitive skin through your underwear. The touch has heat pooling in your belly as you whine pleadingly. “Hank…”

“Hmm?” His fingers keeps brushing your flesh teasingly, sending tingles down you legs. You spread your legs wider as you roll your hips, hoping he’ll get the hint and hurry. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m gonna need words.”

You whine a complaint, making him laugh while he keeps teasing you with the ghost of a touch on your covered sex. 

“My underwear…” You cry. His teasing is making you over sensitive, and you’re embarrassed by how fast the tension is building up in your belly. 

He feigns ignorance with a devilish smirk. “What about it?”

“Take it off!” You kick the bed with your foot like a petulant child, and Hank #3 chuckles as his long fingers slide under your waistband. He can’t help it, you’re so easy to rile up and he loves it.

“As my princess commands.” He gently bites your hipbone as he tugs at your underwear, and you shiver when the cool air hits your damp flesh.

Hank #3 pauses to look at you, hands pressing on your thigh to keep them wide open, and you gasp when you feel fingers reaching down to part your lips, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes. “Shit.” He whispers.

“Don’t stare…” You hide you flush behind your hand as you glare at the man between your legs. 

He obliges by lowering his head, and he opens his mouth to lick a stripe from your vagina to your clit. This triggers a choked moan as your legs twitches. Green eyes roll back in pleasure from your taste as he immediately starts laving your sex. Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton and the only word you remember is his name. Your fingers tangle in Hank #3’s hair, and when his tongue swipes over your clit you pull carelessly with a cry, tearing an aroused groan out of him.

An arm keeps your hips pinned to the bed while the spare lovingly caresses your thigh. He takes his time licking every inch of you, savoring the taste of your warm flesh on his tongue. 

“Hank!” You sob, and he opens his eyes to pin you with his gaze. He looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped and he’d gladly spend the rest of his life doing it. You feel a knot tightening in your gut as your cries steadily increase in volume. 

You look up, and your heart misses a beat when you meet a pair of dark brown eyes. Hank #5 is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed lazily as he watches you get ravished. His gaze travels from your bleary eyes, your rapidly rising and falling chest to your legs spread wide where Hank #3 is busy eating you out like a starved man.

His eyes meet yours again, drinking in the changes in your expression as you’re pushed closer and closer to an orgasm, listening to your sobs and keens grow closer and louder. He sticks a thumb between his teeth like he’s struggling not to pounce on you. 

Suddenly your redhead sucks on your clit, and you’re hurled over the edge. Back arching, thighs crushing his head, you sob as wave after wave of hot lava drowns you. Hank #3 breathes heavily, turned on to no end by the tight grip you have on his head and the thrusts of your hips as you ride your high. His trembling fingers tears at his belt and zipper to free himself. And you hear him curse, followed by the slick sound you assume was him jerking off his cock.

You fall back on the bed as you look at your brunette, your body feels sluggish and heavy, yet you manage to raise a hand to beckon him. He follows you like he’s being lured by a siren, and he climbs on the bed to crush his mouth against yours.

Hank #5 devours your mouth as the tip of his fingers trace your body, from you jaw, down your neck, over your collarbone and up the slope of your breast. He then stops to squeeze the flesh there in a possessive grip.

Hank #3 returns to your clit, and you whine from the overstimulation. You break the kiss. “Wait! Wait!” You rush the words. Both men stop to look at you. “It’s too much.”

“But I wanna make you come too…” Hank #5 mutters with a rasp in his tone. “We’ll make you feel so good, baby. ‘promise.” A tan hand slips under your leg, fingers prodding at your entrance. You surrender to his plea by parting your thighs as far as you can go. 

Hank #5 turns to his friend. “Think you can keep going, bro?” 

Hank #3 looks feral, curls mussed, lips wet. The freckles on his cheeks are drowning in a sea of red. “I’m not stopping ‘till she cries.” He replies, and he buries his mouth back in your cunt. Hank #5 sinks a finger as he smiles lovingly at you.

“Feeling good, pretty baby?” He coos as he crooks his finger inside of you, and at the same time Hank #3 flicks his tongue over your clit. You sob from the combined sensations. You’re so wet Hank #5 can slip a second finger in easily, and he sets a punishing pace as he thrusts eagerly in and out. 

Hank #3 groans are muffled as he keeps pleasuring himself while caring for you. Hank #5 studies your face as he fucks you with his fingers. You’re sure you look absolutely fucked out, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your fingers sneak under your brunette’s sweatpants, and his eyes widen when he feels them close around his length and pull it out. His pace inside you falters when you start jerking him off. 

Your left hand is busy tugging at red hair, and when you pull sharply while you squeeze with the other your hear both men sob at the same time. Without thinking your lips curl in a smug little grin, and Hank #5 narrows his eyes at you.

Your smile falls when a third finger bullies its way inside you. “Wai– ah… ah!” Your protests fall in deaf ears as Hank #5 keeps hitting that spot deep inside of you. Meanwhile, Hank #3 licks around your entrance , occasionally bumping against Hank #5’s fingers.

“You’re close, uh?” Hank #5 teases you. “I can feel you clenching on my fingers.” 

You retaliate by swirling your thumb over the head of his cock, and his mouth falls open as he pants, arousal and outrage swimming in pretty brown pools. All three of you are climbing rapidly the steps to your orgasms as you tug, lick and grab at each other clumsily. It’s messy, overwhelming and you’re not sure you can stand any longer the feral way they fuck you like they’re starving.

You feel your eyes well up as you choke out a sob. But you feel like you’re going to die from how good you feel. 

“Oh–fuck– there goes the tears.” Hank #5 warns with a moan, Hank #3’s head snaps up to look at you.

Hank #3 releases you to climb up your body, he quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers as he rubs your clit. He stares as fat tears roll down your face, and he bends down to lick them. “You okay, baby?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You say in a high pitched tone. “I’m close.”

Hank #3 keep stroking himself as he rubs at you, somehow timing each flick of his wrists with Hank #5’s thrusts, and you gasp as you feel your orgasm crash over you.

Your mind blanks, and you think you hear your own voice cry out. A chorus of whines and your name being moaned follow as you feel warm fluids paint you chest and stomach. 

Your boys slump against you, struggling to catch their breaths, and you reach blindly to tug their sweaty bodies closer.. One man kisses your neck lazily while the other trails his hand down your body. 

“Damn.” You say, making them laugh.

*** 

Hank #3 stares at the book before him with a pit in his stomach. He’s thrown himself off planes, has almost crashed while racing, he even came close to drowning once while jumping off a cliff. All close call with death, yet he’s come out of each situation laughing.

So why is he so fucking scared of a book. 

The medical textbook is ridiculously big, and has so many fucking words. He hates reading, some letters get jumbled and he struggles to makes sense of some sentences. Maybe he’s just too much of an idiot, and his dream is just unattainable for someone like him.

The flow of self hatred is halted by a soft pair of lips pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You got this, doc.” You whisper. You give him a steaming mug of tea, and your naked feet pad softly as you head to bed. 

He takes a deep breath, and opens the book.

He’ll make you proud.

Chapter Text

Hank #2 is a worrier.

He worried as soon as he was produced, wondering what would happen to him. He worried when he got stuffed into a package with seven others like him. He worried when all of them got shipped to a superstore across the world.

And now, suspended to a rack in the middle of an alley, he’s anxious about who’s going to buy him.

This is fine. He mumbles to himself. We’re just going to hang out in a closet and have all the time in the world to do gnarly stuff.

What if our future owner’s a serial killer? Hank #4 asks out of the blue, and a chorus of groans echoes.

Why would you say that, dude?

I dunno! It’s a possibility!

Why would a serial killer buy hangers?

To kill people with, duh One!

WHY WOULD THEY USE HANGERS?!

Well, serial killers have regular closets too, you know.

The more he listens to the others bicker, the more his non-existent blood pressure spikes up. All the Hanks feel restrained in the cardboard packaging they come in, and he aches to finally be able to roam freely.

Shhh! Someone’s coming! Hank #1 shushes the group. They fall silent as they watch a cart stop by them, filled to the brim with knickknacks and decorations. 

“–He’s kinda hot though.” A woman with straight brown hair and almond shaped eyes says as she pushes the cart down the isle. “Hot in an unhinged, workaholic way. I wonder if he’s single.”

“Your CEO sounds crazy.” He hears a soft voice chuckle, and that’s when he realizes that there’s someone in the cart. A head pokes out of the mountain of items, eyes crinkling with laughter. 

“And rich.” The woman with you sighs dreamily. “Think of all the Hero-hime merch he could buy me.”

You roll your eyes, amused. 

“Oh.” Your friend’s eyes fall on the shelf. “Are you gonna need hangers?”

His breath hitches when you turn to the hangers. “Oh, yeah.” You lean forward, and when your fingers brushes against the wood of his body he feels strangely flustered. You’re a pretty little thing, with kind eyes and soft curves. Everything about you looks safe and inviting. 

During the entire interaction the other Hanks have been stunned into silence, busy admiring you. She’s so cute. Think she’s gonna pick us? Hank #5 asks, Hank #2 can feel his friend’s heart skip a beat, courtesy of the link they all share.

All of them deflate when your fingers depart to look at another set of hangers. No!– Oh, c’mon!– Come back! Deaf to the loud protests of the group, you look deep in thought as as you study the colorful set of plastic hangers. 

“Girl, just pick any of them.” Your friend huffs impatiently. “You’re taking so long to choose every single item in your house.”

“But I don’t wanna make a wrong choice.” You pout. “It’s my first time living alone.”

“Pick the wooden ones, they’re sturdier.”

Yeah, listen to her, baby. I’m definitely hard to break. Hank #3 purrs, and Hank #2 resists the urge to cringe.

“Sure, if you say so.” A collective cry of victory fills the isle as you grab them and put them in the cart. 

Peace out, nerds! Hank #4 cackles at the plastic hangers. 

***

Between Hank gliding sessions and some free falling outings, Hank #2 likes to observe you. 

You love to paint, oftentimes he sees your fingers and cheeks marred with colors. You have a special outfit that you wear when you’re painting, one that you don’t mind getting messy.

You hide in the closet when you’re upset, once a year he sees you get in and cry, shrouded in darkness. Always at the same date. He wonders if you’ve lost someone special. He definitely gets it, Hank #7 and #8 have recently passed and it doesn’t get easier.

In the morning you slide open the door to your closet, still not fully awake, eyes half closed and your hair a rat’s nest. It’s ridiculously adorable. For this short moment, as you rummage through your clothes, he fantasize about reaching out and touching you with hands he doesn’t have. He wants to have fingers to smooth back your hair, and lips to smile at you with, so you can finally notice him.

As always, the moment is broken when you find what you’re looking for, and the door closes behind you, plunging the closet in darkness once again.

He watches you on laundry days, whistling to yourself as you carefully fold your freshly cleaned clothes. Your hair sways with each hypnotic move of your body to the imaginary beat.

None of the others make fun of him for pining after you, he doesn’t really understand why at first. Anything is a good opportunity for the Hanks to tease each other. But then one day your lips curl in the brightest smile, and he hears all of his friends sigh dreamily.

He realized with a laugh that all five of them are wrapped around your pretty finger.

*** 

You hold a dress in front of you and, utterly dissatisfied with the reflection in your mirror, you let out an annoyed groan. 

“I’m not going.” You throw the offending dress to join the pile on the floor and collapse on the bed dramatically.

Sam is laying by your side reading a magazine and eating from a bag of candy. “You promised.”

“I’m taking it back. Ugh, since I’ve gained weight I look horrible.”

You can’t hear the outraged squawks coming from your closet. 

Guys. Dirk takes a corporeal form only to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The whole ‘pining after the human’ was funny the first few years, but now it’s getting really sad. 

Meanwhile Sam forces you to try another dress. A pretty burgundy one with a turtleneck. 

Chill out, dude. We’re joking around. Hank #3 grins. She’s just our owner and we’re bored. 

“Oh, this one is great! It’s definitely a date night outfit!” Sam cries excitedly.

Date?! The Hanks‘ faces fall.

Your cheeks redden as you purse your lips. “I don’t know… you think he’ll like it?”

“Of course! You look breathtaking.” Sam grins.

Dirk watches the utterly gutted look the Hanks collectively share on their faces. And he feels a bit bad for them. 

Your best friend styles your hair while you’re doing your makeup, pop music gently drifting through the air. 

This is fine. Hank #2 thinks to himself. This is normal. Humans hate to be alone. It should be expected that you’re actively looking for a significant other.

You look exquisite, perched on your heels, a blush staining your cheeks, your pink lips curled in a sweet smile. Sam pushes you out of the room with a giggle.

Why… why is it so painful to watch you leave?

The rest of the night he can’t help but sulk. He wonders if you’re having fun, and he imagines what it would be like to take you on a date. He’ll treat you right, that’s for sure. He’ll make sure you’re having the time of your life. He’d do anything to hear your laughter.

It’s late at night when the door slides open quietly. Hank #2’s breath hitches when he sees your tear stained cheek, mascara bleeding out messily. You sniffle pathetically as you enter the closet and duck under the clothes. You hide your face in your knees as you hug your legs. 

Doug materializes by your side, his large body takes up most of the cramped space as he sits down facing you, a phone in hand as he plays Candy crush. 

What happened? Hank #5 asks worriedly,  hands hovering over your shaking figure, unsure what to do.

Doug’s lips quirk in a small little smile. Dork just got dumped by her date. He called her ‘boring’. 

I don’t get what’s so funny. Hank #2 hisses angrily at the incarnation of the human’s existential crisis.

The grey mountain of muscles raises his hands defensively. I just enjoy the irony. The dude kept hogging the conversation, he just went on and on about some crypto bullshit. He never asked the dork any question about herself, what a loser. And afterwards he expected her to put out because he paid her dinner. 

Sounds like your date was the boring one. Utterly unworthy of your time. Yet his human is the one crying right now. 

Doug must have heard an echo of your dark thoughts, because he suddenly leaves his phone alone to focus on you.

That’s right, dork. Doug purrs as he pats your head of silky hair. The world is a hot steaming pile of garbage, just stay here and rot away. Love is a waste of time.

Hank #2 glares at the amalgam of your negative emotions. He shouldn’t take it against him, Doug was made that way, but he can see the effect he’s having on you. You’re already deflating, shoulders sinking as you sigh in defeat.

You suck, man. Hank #1 shakes his head. Just look at how miserable you’re making house-homie. 

Yeah, give me one good reason not to beat you up. Hank #4 hisses.

Doug turns to them, and his large frame shakes with a snicker.

You’re all dorks too. Doug says. I’m embracing my nature, you should do the same. Now fuck off. He swats them away like they’re flies.

The next day you’re back to your normal sweet, bubbly self. The date reduced to nothing but a fleeting thought.

He knows. God, Hank #2 knows there is no fucking hope. He feels utterly uncool gawking at you like a lovesick puppy each time you enter the laundry room or open the closet door. But he can’t help it. You’re just… you’re a bright woman that’s kind, smart and funny. 

Also, your ass is epically hot. Sorry, he’s just a guy. 

For now, he’s just going to settle for staying by your side and being a silent, comforting presence.

***

Guys ! Dirk burst in the closet with a shit eating grin. You’ll never guess what Harper told me.

That you’re better off as friends? Hank #3 snarks with a smirk.

Ha. Ha. Funny. Dirk deadpans. No, it’s your literal dream come true, you saps. The human has weird glasses that allows her to talk to us.

The Hanks looks at him, confused. What?

Dateviators. Dirk explains. Skylar is the name of the glasses. She told me that she’s here to help the human to find love.

Love… how? Hank #5 tilts his head to the side. Hank #2 detects in the brunette a faint flicker of hope, but it’s quickly snuffed out as if Hank #5 is afraid to get his hopes crushed.

By talking to objects! Dirk grins. She spoke to Harper and I! It was a blast, she’s a sweetheart. Harper was already crazy about the human, she even managed to momentarily forget about me.

Dirk proceeds to explain how this works. The human has to wear the glasses and summon the entity. It can be anything from a piece of furniture to an emotion, as long as the owner focus on summoning them.

Hank #2 feels stupid from the sudden surge of excitement he feels. Maybe his human will see him and the other Hanks! She just has to find them.

A thrill washes over him as he watches you enter the bedroom with a pair of pink tinted glasses perched on your nose. Your eyes sweep over the room as you think about which object to awaken next.

Look at us. He hears himself and the whole group pleading inside his head. Please, look at us.

Your kind eyes sweep over the room as you think about which object to speak to next, and your gaze lands on your bed.

Oh no, Hank #2 whines as he watches you press a button on your glasses as you focus on the bed. Anyone but Betty.

The woman awakens, soft smoldering eyes landing on you as she bites down on her lip. “Hi… I’m Betty… I’m you bed.”

It’s over. Hank #1 mutters, defeated. We’ve already lost the war, homies.

Strangely despite you flirting back, the woman’s charms seems to have no effect on you. You’re so likable that Betty is already asking you to come see her the next day, and you promise to do so with a friendly grin.

Hank #2 holds no hopes as he watches you walk around the room, eyes sweeping over each object occupying it. Yet Hank #4’s palm slaps his arm in excitement when you make your way towards them. 

No, she’s not doing it… He can’t hope, because the shared disappointment will crush all of them. He can already sense the shared feeling simmering inside his guts because the others can’t get a grip. This time, Hank #2 is not worried, he’s terrified.

He feels impending doom as you slowly raise your fingers to press the tiny button on your glasses. A sickening mix of the other’s glee and his own fear rise up his throat. 

Please, he can’t do it. He can’t have you notice him, because all of those feelings he’s been fostering for years will bubble up and become too real. He can already feel the air shift as he’s pulled from the little dimension pocket the Hanks are tucked in to join the real world. And suddenly–

Your eyes are looking straight at him, your gaze drilling a hole in his skull.

“Hi.” You breathe.

Oh.

…

Things will never be the same again.

***

“Hi.” 

A soft voice tears him out of his thoughts, you’re looking down at him, hair wet and your bathing suit clinging to your shimmering body. The sun shines bright behind you, yet it’s your smile that blinds him.

“You ok? We lost you there.” You squeeze his very real hand, made of blood and bone just like yours.

“Oh.” He huffs a laugh as he sets his manuscript on the beach towel. “Sorry, I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Thinking, uh?” Your lips curl in a teasing smirk. “That’s new.”

Hank #2 is starting to get up when you dart off laughing, and he runs after you across the beach. He tackles you into the sea, and you screech out a laugh as he picks you up and twirls with you in his arms.

“Let me go!” You order, wiggling half heartedly. 

He presses a kiss on your shoulder. 

“Never, sunshine.”