Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One of your professors, Mr. Every, was walking on his way home when he spotted two people playing volleyball at the park. Your younger sibling and you.

It caught his eye because he recognized you he just couldn't remember how. Oh that's right. From his History class. It was a new year which meant new students which also meant new names to learn.

He's about to go on his way but he stops to watch you two go back and forth. It looked like you were teaching your younger sister how to pepper. Bump. Set. Spike.

But she was having trouble controlling the ball.

Yet every time she hit the ball far off you were still there to hit it back. Receiving every one and passing it back to her exact spot. The coach knew immediately he had to have you on the team. Not just so you could keep the club open at the threat of having it shut down for not having enough players but because his boys deserved it. They deserved to at least have a chance at making it to a tournament. They deserved to be able to play real matches and earn trips and sponsors.

He approaches from behind, your sibling screaming at the top of their lungs as the coach spins you around to face him. “Please join volleyball!” 

The only reason you didn't scream as well is because you immediately recognized his black ruffled hair, the stubble, and the smell of cigarettes. He wasn't the best teacher. You could tell he was a coach first. That's why he teached History 103. 

“W-what??” You scoffed with an awkward smile on your face, a puff of warm air seeping into the cold and creating a cloud of condensed smoke between the two of you.

You're poor sibling, mistaking him for a homeless person, sprints to you and wraps her arms around your waist, trying to pull you away and causing you to stumble a bit. “Who the hell are you?! Get away before I call the cops!” 

You try to reach your arms behind you to grab her reassuringly, an affectionate laugh escaping you. “No! No. This is my teacher! Mr…. Uhh…” your mind immediately goes black. You always had a hard time remembering teachers names the first week of meeting them.

“What kind of teacher hangs around a playground and grabs people?!” Your sister squeals as she pulls you a little farther back.

“Let me be your coach!” Unfazed by the younger, your teacher continues with his pleas. Not helping his situation with the borderline crazy look on his face.

The look of offense doesn't go unseen by the coach. You took it as him thinking you needed help with volleyball when it was something you've been passionate about since you stepped on a court. 

He's quick to straighten himself and take a deep breath. He had jogged here when he saw you tossing the ball back and forth and despite him being a coach… he isn't in the best shape as of late.

“Let me rephrase.” He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to clean himself up but it only makes his hair messier. 

“I'm also a volleyball coach aside from teaching. I have a team of 5 boys and we need at least one more player or their club will be forced to close. They've already stopped funding us and always put our names last on the list of teams that need to use the only court the academy has.” His expression turns into one of earnest desperation. Taking a sullen tone. You didn't even know someone like him could look that sad, it made you feel sympathetic. 

Your sibling can only watch awkwardly from the side, having abandoned her hands from clutching your shirt but she was still hovering close by just in case.

You on the other hand were looking up at your teacher with a frown. Your brain started wracking with thoughts of doubt but you simply pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. It's not like it would be a bad idea to join. You always preferred volleyball over any other sport. The only thing that worried you was that Redbowl wasn't always the most accommodating college. They cut every corner that would save them money and every other coach there beside your teacher seemed to just be the same carbon copy jerk that didn't understand that sometimes your body hurt and you needed a break. It completely turned you off from joining any of the clubs…

But something deep inside your heart wanted you to say yes. Like a beat in your chest telling you that this could be the best decision of your life. 

“you can put my name down as a player so the club isn't shut down for now, but-” you raise your hand up in a pause, emphasizing your point “I’m just going to be checking out the vibe of the team. If they're cool, I'll join for real. But if I don't like how they act or play then I'm quitting immediately. Is that ok?” 

He looks down at you with a proud, almost smug, grin. Like he already knows you'll like them.

“Absolutely.”

_____

Few days later and your new coach is showing you to the gymnasium. As if you hadn't already been in there before. It's small with only one court inside. The walls are stained, and you can't recal the last time it was cleaned.

Your teacher (who you've learned to be Mr. Every) pushes the door open with the grunt. It's heavy and makes a loud creak. 

The distinct sound of a volleyball being hit with a heavy hand echoes in the gym before a loud yelp follows after. You can hear faint chuckles as you step inside to find Hank 3 standing on a makeshift box so he's an arm's length above the net.

He's attractive. Tall. Even while standing on the stool you can tell he's around 6’0. His orange freckles look as if they were kissed on his skin and he's got short wavy hair to match. 

“That was bad, brah. How are you a libero but you can't even receive?” He scoffs but there's no real bite behind his taunting. You can tell he's teasing, almost affectionately.

“It still landed at the setter spot!” Hank 4 shouts in his defense from his sprawled out spot on the ground. His skin is tanned in uneven spots like he forgot he was wearing goggles at the beach and the lines marked his skin as proof. His hair is messy, sweaty and blonde. It's obvious they've been at this for awhile with strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Doesn't count if you received it with your face, homes.” Hank 3 corrects with a shake of his head as he's handed another ball, barely giving Hank 4 any time to get up when he lifts the ball up with one hand, ready to spike it with the other as he winds his arm back. His forearm tenses naturally, pure strength building in his arm like a winded up coil. 

The man beside him is Hank 5, handing him balls whenever he needs. He's got tanned skin but not like Hank 4. His hair is a rich brown and he's got a model's face with himbo’s physique. 

Hank 5 let’s out a chuckle as Hank 4 dives for the next ball. Somehow able to touch it before it hits the ground despite the strength of the spike and the fact he was just laying down on the floor moments before. He reaches for it with a messy dive, causing his body to hit the floor with a breathless oww. It bounces off his forearm and goes flying. Hitting someone in the back of the head. 

Hank 2 was fetching the stray balls and picking up trash left behind by other clubs when the ball was launched at him. Earning a small groan as he drops the trash bag in his hand to rub the back of his head, massaging the slight sting on his skin. “Not cool, dude!” He turns around, squinting at Hank 4 with a glare and his hand still on the back of his head. Muttered sorrys are scattered throughout the room.

Looking at his face you notice how attractive he is. His hair is a warm black and he's got a stubble painting his chin. 

“That wasn't my fault!” Hank 4 practically shrinks under the others sharp glare, “I wasn't ready!” 

“That's not an excuse! You always need to be ready.” Hank 5 states before chuckling again, the back of his hand pressed gently against his smile. 

“What you need to be is careful!” Hank 2 shouts from across the court, “you can't be diving head first and receiving with your face all the time! Last time you did, you face planted and chipped your tooth AND got a bloody nose!” 

Hank 4 scrambles to his feet, walking over to the other with what you can only assume is a whine. “I'm sorry- I'm sorry! Please stop scolding me! You get scary when you're mad.” Hank 4 practically drapes himself over Hank 2 with a groan. Wrapping one arm over Hank 2’s waist and the other around his shoulder in a hug. 

“I'm not angry I'm worried. I almost fainted when I saw all that blood on your face, dude." The Hank sighs. He tries to push the other off but not with any real force. Just light nudges against the other's chest.


“Ahem.” Coach Every grunts. The noise loud and catching the attention of the four Hanks before you. “I gave you the key to do warm ups and that's it. How'd you guys even get the closet open?” He asks, referring to the set up net and balls. He points at Hank 4 with a disapproving stare, “did you break into it again?” 

To which Hank 4 releases the other Hank and raises his arms up worriedly, brows furrowing and his voice high pitched “Nah! It was just unlocked I swear! Why is everyone gettin’ mad at me today!?”

“Probably one of the teams before us. Kids don't clean up or close after themselves. Sorry…” coach mutters to himself, looking to the side with furrowed brows. 

You feel a warm swell in your chest. You feel like if you knew this group personally you'd probably be laughing a lot harder at their antics. But as of now, you simply chuckle to yourself. Peeking over coach’s shoulder at the scene. 

The four boys then shift their attention to you. You can practically feel their curious glances. Hank 5 tilts his head with a warm, welcoming smile and a gentle wave. 

“Nice to meet you. What's your name?” Hank 5 asks gently but loud enough for you to hear across the court. He seems almost… hopeful, though. There's only one reason you’d be in this court at this time and close enough next to the coach that says you're here because of him.

You suddenly feel a lot smaller underneath everyone's gaze because they're all hoping the same thing. The coach watches you shrink back. An alarm in his head suddenly tells him you're thinking of leaving. (Even though you weren't… you just got nervous when put on the spot.) He also thinks that if the Hanks suddenly got too excited and overwhelmed you, you'd want to leave even more. 

“They're just here to help with practice!” He chuckles awkwardly, “just to give me an extra hand now and then.” 

His eyes are squinted and his smile is too wide. You make a mental note that Mr. Every is bad at lying. Good to know…

“Damn, they're cute too.” Hank 3 crosses his arms. His brows raise and his eyes go half lidded. 

“You said that out loud, brah.” Hank 4 mutters, meaning if he heard it from across the court then so did you. 

“I know.” He replies back shamelessly, his gaze never leaving yours. 



Because you're standing behind him, you don't see the glare coach shoots the red head. He fears the smallest movement or blunt comment will scare you off but instead you only feel flushed. Your cheeks glow with a faint blush as you tighten your lips together in a line. 

“Thanks for choosing to help. We appreciate it.” Hank 5 says sincerely, choosing to ignore Hank 3. He rests a hand over his chest in an appreciative gesture. Flashing you a genuine smile. The rest seem just as happy with your company and almost… Excited? Like it's been awhile since they've had a new face outside the five of them excluding coach Every. 

“Alright. Let's get started before the principal thinks we're slacking and kicks us out.” coach claps his hands together to gather them around and they do. Crowding around you and coach Every to listen for further instructions. “Wait we're missing one. Where's Hank 1?” 

You tilt your head curiously which Coach catches in the corner of his eye. Hank 1? He let's out an exasperated sigh. His shoulders droop as he turns to you. “Right. Sorry. I didn't tell you they're all named Hank.” 

You only tilt your head further, brow raising up higher which Hank 3 then mutters another unsubtle cute underneath his breath. 

“Like- you nicknamed them all… Hank?” You ask.

“Nope.” Coach rolls his shoulders back to straighten himself. “Somehow every Hank in this god forsaken school is great at volleyball. And I have the pleasure of coaching all of them.” 

“You know you love us.” Hank 3 drawls. They simultaneously reply with a shouted yeah!

You all introduce yourselves and they explain the system of numbers to identify each of them. Before Coach can explain the days agenda, a man who you assume is Hank 1 swings the storage closet open and steps out. “Dudes! Why didn't anyone tell me coach was here?” He exclaims while lightly jogging back to the group.

He immediately makes eye contact with you upon seeing you. His thick brows shoot up in light surprise before flashing you a bright smile. He's got a thick beard matching with his dark dreadlocks and legs with the muscle mass of a greek god, “What's up homie! My name's Hank.” 

Now that all five of them are standing side by side, gently leaning on one another and staring between you and the coach, you can't help but notice that they're all tall and attractive. Beautiful faces, all different in their own way. 



______



The boys are doing laps outside the gym as coach grabs more equipment. You take the chance to do your own warmups inside. Doing stretches and light jogs around the net. Even helping coach set up cones for drills.  

For now you just watch. They work casually, having fun and chatting between drills until Hank 2 or coach Every tell them to take the drills seriously. You're still helping coach. Fetching stray balls and fetching things for him. You didn't mind, it was actually nice to watch them. They worked hard when they weren't messing around and you could tell they were passionate abou the sport. Even more about them  being together on the same team.

The sun was setting low, creating a golden hue on campus. Coach decided it was almost time to go so he told them to do a 3v3 practice match.

“But coach, there's an uneven amount of players? That ain't fair unless you're playing with us!” One of the Hanks whine. Creating an uproar of excited chant's on the court for the possibility of him playing. 

Instead of the coach stepping up to the uneven side, you do. Next to Hanks 5 and 3. 

“Are you playing with us?” Hank 5 asks with a hopeful look on his face. 

You nod your head. “Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah that's alright.” Hank 3 drawls. “You can play with me anytime you like, baby.”

You quickly turn your head to the side to try to avoid his gaze and Hank 5’s happy smile. Your cheeks burn and you quickly shake it off with a deep breath. 


“That's so unfair, you can't have both Hank 5 and 3 on the same team!” someone on the opposite side of the net groans. 

You see Hank 4 droop his head with a frown. “Aww man… I wanna be on the same side as the cute helper.” 

There goes your face again. Flushing a deep red. You turn even further, facing your back to everyone to avoid any further attacks to your heart.

“Don't care!” Coach Date shouts, tossing a ball over the net to Hank 2 so he can set. “You better start playing before we run outa time!” 


____

Hank 2 steps back over the line. Far back… which isn't always a good sign for your team. You spread your feet apart and bend your knees for the optimal receiving position. Hanks 3 and 5 do the same. 

Hank throws the ball in the air before sprinting after it with a jump and a sudden slam.

It's fast.

You can barely follow it with your eyes as it shoots to the left and to Hank 3 who receives it. Barely. 

Unfortunately the ball ricochets off his forearms and far out of bounds where you can't chase after it. 

“Shit.” Hank 3 grunts, “you always go straight for me cause you know I can't receive your stupid float serves!” 

Hank 2 respondes with a cockey grin and his tongue sticking out. 

He's thrown another ball and does the same routine. This time the ball looks as if it'll hit Hank 3 dead on but it loses it's velocity last minute, droping to the ground right in front of him and scoring 2 another point. 

Hank 3 groans to himself before apologizing to you and five. You both reassure him and give him small words of encouragement. 

Hank 2 does the same thing but this time when the ball flys into the air after hitting 3, you run after it. You hit it back to the court with a dive and a grunt. Your chest hitting the ground and your legs following after. 

“I've got it!” Hank 5 calls out and hits it over the net to the other side.

Hank 1 receives it well enough to act as a set for Hank 4. He jumps and spikes it with a thwack. 

But you're already there and jumping up to block it.

You had ran back fast enough to get back to your spot and jump with Hank 5 right beside you. The ball bounces off of your hand and hits the floor on their side, earning your side a point.  

“Oohhh!” Hank 3 does small hops on his feet. Hyping you up.

Hank 4, despite getting blocked, looks excited. Shouting praises for how cool you looked.

Hank 5 looks proud. He's patting you on the back and talking about how gnarly that receive was. 

And Hank's 1 and 2 can't help but want to keep playing now that they know you're at least a little good from how well your form was and how you controlled the ball enough to bring it back to the court.



____



The score is 19 to 24 with your side in the lead. You understand now why Hank 2 was against Hanks 3 and 5 from being on one side. 

They work insanely well together.

 You've learned that 5 is the teams setter and 3 is their ace. With 5's perfect sets and 3’s precision and raw strength, you'd assume the other side wouldn't be able to keep up. 

But they are! Hank 4 is everywhere the ball goes. Even when 1 and 2 receive it, 4 is still hovering nearby in case they need help. He's messy, and constantly doing weird dives and he's landed on his ass more times than he's dropped a ball. But it works. 

Hank 2 always manages to score at least two aces every time he serves. He's light on his feet and quiet so you can never tell if he's spiking or doing a fake out. 

And Hank 1.

He reads you and the other Hanks like an open book. He's constantly reading out your plays and quick attacks to Hank's 2 and 4. He knows when Hank 3 is doing a fake and he knows exactly where he needs to be blocking. 

And 2 n’ 4 trust him. They go exactly where he needs them and it works. You're watching years of teamwork play out before you. You can tell Hank 1 is the team captain without having to be told. They all trust him. Trust each other. Even Hank’s 5 n’ 3. 

It's Hank 4’s turn to serve. He's barely an inch behind the line and he's got sweat staining his shirt around his collar. “Ughhh-!” 

Somehow, despite him being exhausted from receiving all of yours and 3’s spikes, he hits it with a loud wack. Shooting it straight…


At Hank 1’s back. 


And the game is over…



Hank 1 lets out a yelp, arching his back due to the sting. “Agh!” 

You let out a bellow aching laugh along with the other's chuckles and snickers. Your arm is clutching your stomach and you drop to your knees. You're sweating and your face is red with exaustion. Maybe that's why you just can't seem to stop laughing. It's infectious, causing Hank 5 to start laughing harder. 

Hank 1 pulls 4 into a headlock, squeezing his jaw with his bicep. 

You look over to coach and give him a thumbs up, still calming down from your giggles with a sigh. He knows what it means and he can't help but fist bump the air. 

You'll join! 

Chapter Text

A few weeks had passed since you first met the Hanks. 

When coach had told them you'd be joining their team, you had to cover your ears due to how loudly they were shouting with elation. Hank 1 even pulled you into the tightest hug you'd ever had. Nearly crushing you with how strong he was. 

You joining meant that the volleyball club could stay open but it was more than that. They'd gotten to know you during practices. Even if you never talked about yourself or told them anything about your personal life, they could tell you're a good person from how you treat all of them.

It's like you clicked immediately with their little group. 

____


The storage room was unlocked again. The basketball team forgot to close up and nothing was placed where it should be. 

“It's a mess!” You grumbled with your arms thrown in the air. The closet was always a mess but it was getting worse as of late.

Hank 5 patted your back with a sympathetic but understanding smile and Hank 1 walked past the two of you with a frown taking a look around at the cramped and cluttered closet. “It's so not cool.” The black haired man shook his head in a disapproving manner at the other clubs inability to put their crap away.

“Not cool at all!” Hank 4 shouted in agreement. He was sweeping the gym floor with a large broom while Hank 2 was picking up the scattered papers and various plastic bottles. Also crap left behind by other clubs.

You stepped into the storage room alongside Hank 1. Stomping your feet before beginning to put stuff back in its place. You began rearranging the items on the racks so it wouldn't be so dangerous for the next poor sap who tries to reach something on a higher shelf. After all, there were lots of clubs waiting to use the gymnasium tomorrow. You didn't want anyone to get potentially hurt.

“The heavy stuff isn't supposed to be on the top shelf! They're supposed to be at the bottom so the whole thing doesn't tip over!” you sigh as you reach your arms up to grab a large box of miscellaneous items but both the Hanks immediately step in on either side of you.

Hank 1 is on your left, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back and pulling your hands down. He flashes you a gentle smile and pulls you back a bit so Hank 5 can grab the box instead. He lifts it with ease, but the way the muscles on his back flex under his thin shirt, and the way his biceps swell, you can tell the box was definitely heavier than you expected. 

“It's sweet of you to wanna make sure no one gets injured. We can help clean with you, homie.” Hank 1 suggests, but it’s more of a statement. They’re going to help you so they can make sure you don’t get yourself hurt while thinking so thoughtfully of others. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s looking down on you or thinking you’re weaker than them. No way. Everyone has their own strengths, they just want to be beside you to watch your back. 

With a gentle pat on your back, Hank 1 turns to begin removing the large and heavy things on the higher shelves. 

Hank 5 does the same. “How about you put all the stuff on the floor away so it isn’t so cluttered in here?” he says with a soft smile over his shoulder. 

You get to work immediately. All three of you work in comfortable silence to get the closet cleaned up and by the end of it, 

the closet looks the cleanest it’s ever been since the college was built. Years of students and teachers piling up their gear and sports equipment had left it a safety hazard. You’d been told stories about the hanks getting hurt occasionally when trying to fetch the volleyballs and net despite always keeping it in the same spot every time. That's why they never wanted you in the closet by yourself. Or even touching the net equipment. The want to clean up had nagged at you since. 

Hank’s 1 and 5 each give you a high five, looking proud of themselves and you for tackling a problem every sports club and even Redbowl themselves had avoided for years. 

When you three finally exit the closet, you're sweaty and a little tired. There wasn't any ventilation and you had accidentally brushed against them both, more than once. 

Everytime you bumped hips with Hank 1 or pressed your hand to his back to get past him, He'd flash you a toothy grin. But in all honesty, he was trying to not let the blush on his ears creep up to his cheeks. 

And Hank 5, he throws glances your way whenever you're not looking. He can't help but watch you work. Even during practices, he can only wonder what you'd look like in domestic setting. Even if he's not quite sure what that thought means.

You find Hank 2 sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. “You were in there for awhile… why are you guys sweaty?” 

Hank 4 is laying on the now clean floor with his head on 2’s lap. “Hank no.3 would definitely find that arousing if he were here.” The curly hair’d blond drawls with a yawn. 

“Where is he?” You ask while walking over to them and sitting beside Hank 2.

“You guys were just sitting out here? Why didn't come check on us?” Hank 1 nudges Hank 4's side with his shoe, causing him to roll over with a strangled laugh. 

Hank 2 has a flushed expression before he answers, “I didn't wanna hear anything I shouldn't have… or see.” 

Hank 5 sits beside you, nudging your side so he can answer your earlier question with a kind smile. He's huge even while sitting down, not just in height but the way his muscles swell to full mass when he sits back. “No.3’s at work. He has a part time job at the clinic downtown.”


“I didn't know he had a job!” You exclaim with interest.

Hank 5 leans back with a laugh. “We all do. We have to pay rent somehow. Same with our tuition. Scholarships could only pay off so much.” 

“Wow…” you look up at him thoughtfully. You never assumed they'd be the type to be paying off their own apartment or tuition. You had a full ride scholarship because Redbowl wasn't too strict with their requirements. They basically accepted any and every athlete that applied. Plus, you stayed in the dorms so you didn't need to worry about finding a place to stay for the time being. “That's actually really cool of you guys. You all stay at the same place?”

5 nods his head, turning to stare off into the distance thoughtfully. “Yeah. We do.” 

“Do you like living with them?” 

"I love it."



Your heart starts to beat quickly for an unknown reason. Love. He loves. 

You suddenly feel a warm body against yours on the other side of you. Hank 2 is forced to lean against you as Hanks 1 and 4 playfully wrestle one another on the floor. Hank no.1 is straddling the others hips while trying to pin him down and jab at his sides. Hank 4 is swatting at his hands while flailing around beneath him. Playfully trying to throw the other off. 

“Stooop! You're gonna hit me, dude!” Hank 2 presses back against you further, nearly laying down on your lap. 

A few feet away the door swings open with its signature creak. Coach Every walks in with a box in his arms. “Hey!” 

“Where have you been?” Hank 1 looks over his shoulder, leaning back and resting his weight onto Hank 4’s hips. 

“Went to grab coffee. Stopped by the office to grab some paperwork and turns out- the uniforms I ordered weeks ago came in!” Coach walks up and drops the box before you guys. Hank 1 dismounts off of Hank 4 and kneels beside the box. 

“Hell yeah!” 


Coach Every cuts the box open with his keys and pulls out the first Jersey. Number 4. 

“Gnarly!” Hank 4 snatches the shirt, standing to his feet to press the fabric against his chest. “Do I look sick?” 

“Yup!” The other three say simultaneously. 

“Did you guys… just pick the numbers you go by?” you say with a dumfounded but not too surprised tone. 

“We did! Our numbers are important to us!” Hank 2 explains while his jersey is pulled out next. The shirts are a mix of various colors. Green, blue, red, while the base is a light orange.

Hank 4, as the libero, the base of his shirt is purple. Still adorned with the other four colors. 

Next is number three. Hank 1 grabs it and folds it up to give him later. 

“Bro wanted to pick ‘69’ as his. We told him it was lame to not match with us so he changed it back last minute.” Hank 1 declares.

The coach clears his throat as he pulls out another jersey. “Speaking of… because it was last minute, they ended up shipping both...” 

“But it worked out because I suppose because we have our sixth player.” 

A shirt is suddenly tossed into your lap. You pick it up to see the number “69” on the front and back.

“you've got to be kidding me." You sigh.

Chapter Text

“Sorry’ kid. Because uniforms can range from 100-500 dollars, they won't pay for more shirts than we actually need, so I’m afraid that’ll be your number for the time being” Coach Every explains with a small grimace. He pulls out the last few shirts before folding up the box and leaving to throw it out. 

“We can order another one if this bothers you.” Hank 5 leans closer to you. He whispers softly with a small wink, “I'll pay for it.” 

There’s a soft smile on your face. You’re appreciative of the offer but the number itself isn’t what's bothering you. Your shoulders droop and you let out a sigh. “No, it's ok.” you look bashfully off to the side, your voice lowering to a whisper, “I just thought it would’ve been nice if I matched with you guys too, is all…” 

Despite you lowering your voice, all four Hanks heard and turned to look at you. They look touched. Hank 4 looks as if he’s about to sob.

“Yeah! You should tots’ match with us too, homie! All of us consecutive numbers!” Hank 4 practically throws himself onto you. Wrapping his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. 

“Hell Yeah! that'd be so totally sick!” Hank 2 happily agrees while also trying to pry 4 off of you. 

“And don't even think about paying, we got you babe.” Hank no. 1 pats your shoulder with a bright smile. “No one should have to buy their own jersey!”

They ended up ordering another shirt themselves with the help of Coach Every. He was thankful for it. He was actually planning on saving the little money he got from teaching and coaching to buy you another shirt if you ever ended up asking him. 

Who needs funding from RedBowl when 5 himbo's can pay for it themselves? Still, for the next two weeks you'll have to wear the extra jersey with the number 69 on it. Just until your other new one comes in. 

Hank 5 texted Hank 3 a few hours later who was still at work.

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o: “You busy, bro?”

(Hank 3)

Oralhygienist: “Never for you, daddi ;)”

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o: “...”

“Stop removing the ‘o’ from my user…”

“Anyways your shirt came in”

(Hank 3)

OralHygienist: “sick”

“Which one came in? 3 or 69?” 

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o: “both.” 

(Hank 3)

OralHygienist: “siiiiiickkkk”

“Can I switch shirts every game?”

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o: “nah bro, they’re gonna use the extra one”

(Hank 3)

OralHygienist: “number 3?”

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o: “...” 

(Hank 3) 

OralHygienist: “THE SIXETY-NINE SHIRT?????”

“SENDMEAPICSENDMEAPICSENDMEAPIC”

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o “they aren’t wearing it right now lol”

(Hank 3) 

OralHygienist: “TELL THEM TO PUT IT ON AND TAKE A PICTURE”

(Hank 5)

Daddi-o: “HARD PASS”

(Hank 3)

OralHygienist: “...”

 “Lame-wad.”

____

It was 8pm. You were at the gymnasium ready for practice.  You came early yet you still weren't the first one there.

 Hank 2 was setting up the net by himself. Earbuds dangled from his ears, down the collar of his fitted T-shirt, to the plugged in phone in his pocket. He didn't notice when you came in, nor did he hear when you dropped your bag loudly to hopefully catch his attention.

“Hank?” You call out gently. 

You take a few steps closer before trying again. “Hank 2 .” 

You find yourself right behind him, still undetected. It's quiet, but you can hear the soft lull of music coming from his earbuds. Your eyes land on the back of his hair. It looks damp in some parts like he'd taken a shower before coming here. You're surprised at his oblivion because you're so close you can smell the faint scent of shampoo mixing in with his own gentle musk. 

“Hank?” You reach your hand out and gently place it on his back between his shoulder blades. His muscles tense as a reflex. He flinches so hard one of his earbuds falls out as he whips his head to look over his shoulder. He expects to find one of the other Hanks but instead, he finds you. 

“Holy! How long have you been standing there, homie?!” 

You take a step back, startled yourself by his reaction. You had tried so hard not to scare him. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry! I just got here. Was trying to ask if you needed help.” You pull your hand back, holding a balled fist against your chest. 

He relaxes almost immediately at the look of guilt on your face. Squinting in a look of grimace. He takes a deep breath before deciding it’s best that he calms down.

 “It's fine broseph, didn't mean to freak out. I'd love it if you helped me but I could always finish this up if you wanna do some warm up stretches before practice.” He offers you a soft smile while taking out the other earbud and shoving it back into its case.

“How about I help you here and then we can both do stretches. Together!” Your own smile is just as soft, if even warmer. 

To be honest, Hank 2 had already done about thirty-five minutes of stretching already before starting to set up the net. Pulling a muscle is no joking matter. He’d always been the one to remind the other Hanks to do their own personal stretches that best fit their own bodies. 

But the chance to do stretches with you? Alone? How could he pass that up? It's not like he didn't want the other Hanks around. He needed them like he needed air. He needed to wake up in the mornings and have them be the first people he sees and remind them to eat. He needed to see them in his lectures and he needed them on the hard days when he couldn't be alone. 

He just finds it hard to speak with you in the noise that the other Hanks bring naturally. It was like the others could speak for him. They always knew exactly what he was thinking because it was like they all worked on the same wavelength of thoughts. He didn't need to say much besides his concerns around you. But he wanted you to hear his voice too. He wanted you to be comfortable with him.

“Bet!” He nods his head affirmatively. 

You both unwind the net and set up the poles into the floor with a clank.

“could you pass me a water bottle in my bag?” He asks while tightening the straps on his pole. “By the door. You can grab yourself something too, homie! There should be extra drinks in there.” 

He pauses for a beat before squinting, pulling the last strap with a grunt. “You just can't drink the Sunnyd. It's Hank 4’s… unless you really want it.” 

You walk towards the duffle bag with a stifled chuckle. Crouching down to it, you find that there's more than just a few ‘extra drinks’.

 The bag is loaded with various bottles of water, gatorade, and a single Sunnyd on the side. There's a first aid kit and in the side pockets are flavored packets and protein snacks. 

There's a smaller bag behind the duffle. It's old, torn, and the zipper itself is missing. There lies his kneepads, a small rag, and his arm sleeves.

You pull out two water bottles and walk back to where he's sitting in the middle of the court. “Do you bring all that for the rest of the team?” You ask while handing him one of the bottles.

He wags his hand in a ‘so-so’ manner as he takes a swig from his water. He pulls away with a sigh and wipes a small drop on his lips with the back of his hand.

“They're just extras. They used to forget to bring something to drink every time we had practice so I started bringing something just in case. They've gotten better at it though… I think I've definitely beat the importance of hydration into their brains.” 

You take a seat beside him before extending your legs in the same way Hank 2 has, reaching the tips of your fingers to touch the tips of your shoes. 

“How long have you guys known one another?” You ask with a sigh before reaching towards the other foot. 

“Since highschool.” He answers fondly, “We used to be tottaly inseparable. Still are.” 

He bends his knees into a butterfly pose. You follow suit and do the same.

“But we used to always be together. Every class, every afterschool job, we even used to go on those sick adventures they'd advertise on those yellow papers together.” He explains. There's a look of almost boyish nostalgia as he thinks back at it all.

“Adventures?” You repeat with a smile, “what do you mean?” 

“You didn't go to redbowl highschool, did you? I heard you moved here just after becoming a college freshman.” To which you nod affirmatively, “Redbowl used to put up these killer flyers that had small tasks on it.” 

He starts to talk with his hands as he grows more nostalgic. “Sometimes they'd give you a map to follow into the woods for treasure (the treasure being some sort of extra credit for any subject) or sneak into another teacher's class and place a sticker on their desk when they aren’t looking, or sometimes just order a slice of pie from the nearest bakery and take a picture as proof!” 

You grow more concerned than before, stopping mid stretch. “That sounds incredibly dangerous!” You pause, “except the last one…” 

“How was that allowed?!” You continue with a frown. you know he's not even mentioning the worst ‘adventures’. 

He lets out a soft huff of air, “I know right? I used to bug them about how we shouldn’t do everything the fliers wanted us to do. Cause sometimes they’d be crazy unsafe, y’know!?

You can only nod in agreement. The woods? What if a student got lost? Would they have sent someone to find those kids? And sneaking into classrooms? That's insane! So many students would exploit that…  

But you know the Hanks wouldn't. They probably were some of the few people that actually did exactly what those papers wanted them to. .  

You could only imagine what they looked like. Getting dirty and laughing their ass’s off like kids. You suddenly can’t help but smile.

“You guys are too cute.” The words slip out before you can process the thought. You grab your bottle of water and take a sip before catching sight of Hank 2 over the edge of the plastic.

He's staring at you, wide eyed. His cheeks are red and his jaw is slack. He quickly looks away at the ground with a soft glare. Like he can feel the burn on his face and he knows that you notice it.

“Thank…you…” He murmurs awkwardly. Unsure of how to respond.

____

You push Hank 2’s knee against his chest. He's laying on his back while letting out a shaky breath. Not because the position is particularly hard on his body but because he's trying not to let your body make him hard. 

He starts shoving sports teams into his head. Baseball teams to basketball before landing on the other Hanks. That thought didn't help him. In fact it only made it worse. 

“I-I think I'm good now, bro.” He flashes you a twitchy lopsided grin. 

“What happened to the importance of stretching? We gotta be real thorough.” you press your palms against his thigh with a giggle and push down a few millimeters more. “If you need to stop though, just tap me.” 

A whine threatens to escape him but he smothers it with a forced cough. 

After a few seconds he lightly taps your forearm before releasing a breath when you finally pull away. “I'm all stretched out. Promise.” 

He’s afraid if he doesn’t stop soon that one of the other Hanks will walk in on you two and notice his reaction immediately. He wouldn’t be able to hide a single thought in his head from them. He never has been. 

“I'm gonna… grab a flavor packet.” He scrambles to his feet with a swipe of his hand through his hair. His muscles are tense at the possibility that you could be watching him walk away. Which you are. A small frown on your lips. 

You had liked helping him stretch, you felt like some physical therapist helping their patient. And he ended it before you could even get started! 

While hunched over his bag, he keeps muttering football teams. Hoping to calm down his racing heart. 

The sound of footsteps can be heard through the open windows and the soft familiar sound of the other Hanks following after. He smiles to himself. 

The door opens and their conversation slowly trails off when they find you sitting on the floor on your knees, shooting them a friendly wave. 

“Homie!” A few of them great affectionately. Hank 4 swings the door open as far as it can, accidentally slamming it straight into Hank 2 who topples over with his drink in his hand. 

____

“My feet hurt..!” Hank 4 grumbles, “I brought the wrong shoes…” 

He's currently the farthest behind as the six of you do your third lap around the gym building. 

“I brought an extra pair of shoes. They’re in my bag.” Hank 1 huffs with a knowing roll of his eyes. They were running late when leaving the apartment, he had a feeling he would bring the wrong pair. “You can change after we finish this lap.”

You slow down your pace to match Hank 4’s to which the other hanks follow. Also slowing down a notch so you two aren't left behind. 

“You ok?” You ask with a chuckle and a nudge of your elbow to his side.

He swerves to the side in an attempt to dodge it, nearly tripping over his own two feet in the process. “I'm killer!” He cackles with a bright grin while gazing down at you. Forgetting to watch where he's stepping.

This time, he actually does trip. Landing chest first against the concrete. 

The five of you quickly turn around with equally concerned glances before he raises a thumbs up. 

____

You finished drills and were about to do a 3v3 when coach called you all over. 

“We have…” 

“an actual scrimmage game next Thursday!” He announces with a proud fist in the air. 

The Hanks explode with excitement. Shouting just as loudly as they did when you had joined. Hank 1 had wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His expression was thankful. Like you were the sole reason they'd be able to play another game instead of their club having to shut down. The look on his face made your heart race in your chest. 

Their happiness was infectious. You were grinning just because of it. 

Coach finally manages to settle them down before saying a sort of motivational speech so they practice harder than before to prepare.

Before he can excuse you guys back to the court, Hank 3 clears his throat with a neutral expression but there's an evil gleam in his eyes. 

“We should… practice in our new shirts. Y’know… to get into the true game spirit.” His voice shifts into a teasing drawl. He glances over at coach for the go ahead to which he only looks back with a deadpan expression. 

He just wants to see you in the jersey he technically picked himself. Which on some level in his brain meant that it belonged to him still. 

And you'd be wearing it. 

“D… do what you want.” Mr. Every mumbles, unamused by his player/student’s lack of subtlety before he rolls his eyes and walks away. “Not my fault if you guys get it dirty before the first game of the season.”

“We'll be getting dirty alright.” Hank 3 grins shamelessly before turning back to the group. Now needing to convince you guys to wear it. 

Coach decides to ignore what he just said for the betterment of his mental health. 

“No.” Hank 4 says rather quickly with a pout. “You just wanna see them wear your shirt.”

“Hell yeah, baby.” He drapes his arm over the blonde. 

“I… think I forgot mine at home.” Hank 1 awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. 

“No, I grabbed all our shirts before I left.” Hank 2 says innocently. 

“Damn it.”

____ 

You've all changed shirts and now you look like an actual team. Even if you're split into two groups of three. 

On your team are Hank's 4 and 5. Leaving Hanks 1, 2, and 3, on the other. They all look intimidating. Attractively so. 

Hank 4 is in the middle front while you and Hank 5 are on the sides in the back. 

Hank 3 is standing directly across from you with his fingers gripping the holes of the net. 

“You wanna go easy on me, hot stuff?” His voice is a low whisper as he presses his curls against the net. “I'm a little distracted today.” 

His gaze drops from your face, traveling down slowly across your shirt. 

“Aww…” you do a playful fake pout before walking up to him. You drape your fingers over his with a chuckle, “that’s too bad…” 

His lips pull into a grin as you step back and Hank 5 begins to serve. His serves weren’t cleverly deceitful like Hank 2’s but they didn’t need to be. 5 had the precision of a bullet. He knew where the unprotected spots were on the court and where the weakest receivers were. 

Hank 2, on the other side, dives for the ball. Bringing it back towards Hank 1, the active setter. 

You know he's about to set it to Hank 3 because Hank 2 is still on the ground, so you run up to the net in time with him, jumping up with Hank 4 to block the ball.

Hank 3 is in the air, his arm winded back, and he was given the perfect set to spike the ball straight down…

But with you right in front of him… that means he’d be be hitting the ball directly at you. Possibly spiking it straight at your ribs or face. No way. 

He changes form mid air and decides to just bump it over you and Hank 4. 

Hank 5 was covering behind and receives it so Hank 4 can set it back to him. “Got it!”

There’s a slam as Hank 5 hits the ball over the net, scoring your side a point. 

The two share a high-five and Hank 4 is about to give you one as well when he notices you glaring at someone. 

Hank 3.

He was about to turn to walk back to his spot when he caught you staring him down in his peripheral. 

“What?” he chuckles with a grin before realizing you’re glaring at him because you’re upset. His smile drops, “Wait what’d I do?’

“Why didn’t you hit the ball?” you ask with a frown. You know why, and you aren't actually upset with him. It was sweet in a way. You just want him to do his best now that they have a scrimmage game next week. Practice makes permanent. And you can definitely handle being hit by a few balls. 

“I did!” 

“No I mean actually hit it. Why didn’t you spike it? You could've. You would’ve won that point if you had.” you cross your arms over your chest. 

He looks off to the side with an awkward grimace on his face. 

“I… didn’t wanna hurt you, babe. Sorry… I know you aren't weak.” He fiddles with his hands, rubbing his knuckles into his palm.  “Just didn't want to bruise a pretty face.” he lets out a huff of air in what was supposed to be a laugh.

You raise your arms in a fit, “hit me! I'll be fine! I actually want you to hit me! Promise!”

The look of guilt gradually fades on his face at your little outburst. You just looked so cute to him. To everyone else too as they watched. He couldn't stay upset for long.

“Come on! I can take it, so next time hit it with all your might! Even if it means I gotta block it with my face!” 

A high pitched laugh escapes him. He doesn't even try to hold it in, “Sorry, hot stuff. I just thought the only time I’d be hitting a babe like you was if we were in a more private setting… and had a safe word.” 

The other Hanks softly groan at him. “Cringe bro.”

Your cheeks only flush. Momentarily making you forget about what you were talking about. 

The ball is tossed back to Hank 5 so he can serve again. 

____

You six go back and forth till the score is 25-23 with the other side winning. 

You had barely managed to keep up thanks to your blocks and Hank 4’s receives. But Hank 1 was still too good at reading each play. 

Hank 4 plops himself onto the ground, too exhausted to keep himself standing. There's a shine on his flushed cheeks from all the sweat, and his shorts ride up to reveal his grey boxers underneath. 

Coach Every is currently trying to kick you all out so you guys can go home already.

 With a tired giggle, you grab Hank 4’s hands and attempt to drag him towards the door. He lets you try. Letting out a heavy giggle of his own. His hands grip yours tightly like he never wants to let go. 

“Come on! You got it!” He cheers you on as you begin to slowly drag his body across the floor with a squeak.

____

You've changed back into your red shirt and were about to start heading home when Hank 1 calls out your name. “Hold up!”

“Where'd you park, homie? Let me walk you to your car!” He offers with a puff of his chest and a cunning smile. 

You turn on your heel to face him. The moonlight catches his stunning jawline and hard working muscles. 

“Oh- thank you! But I don't have a car, I actually walked here.” 

The six Hanks look like they had just heard the worst news of their lives, “whaaaatttt?!” 

“It is way too dangerous for anyone to be walking home at night! Especially while tired!” Hank 5 states with his brows stitched together with worry.

“Didn't you say you lived at the dorms? That's hella far, bro!” Hank 2 exclaimed.

 Hank 1 folds his arms over his chest with a frown. Brooking no room for any form of protest. 

“No way, homie. Let us drive you back.”

They all look at you expectantly. Their intentions are so pure it makes it hard to even think of saying no or I'm fine. 

“Alright…” you manage to mutter. 

____

Hank 2 had stayed behind after classes that day so he was already on campus when practice started. Explaining why he was already in the gymnasium when you had expected to be there first. 

Meaning… they didn't have an extra car since he was just going to ride with the Hanks back home. 

So here you are. Watching as they have a full blown argument about who's lap you get to sit on. 

You immediately ruled out sitting in the drivers or passenger seat since it'd be too dangerous. Causing a frown to form on Hank 1 and Hank 5's face, who were sitting in the front.

So that left the other three… 

you stand by the open door to look inside and they stop arguing to turn and look at you.

“I'll keep my hands to myself!” Hank no.2 was sitting in the middle with a grin on his face. Attempting to convince you to sit with him. 

“Liar.” Hank 5 mumbles from the passenger seat.

“I would!”

“I'll hold you real tight if we hit any bumps, hot stuff.” Hank 3 flashes you a wink. 

Hank 4 is quiet. Unusually so. He's the closest one to you as you’re using his open door to look into the car. 

Instead of saying anything, he just gently grasps your forearm. His grip is light so you have an opportunity to pull away if you don't like his touch. 

He pulls you towards him and guides you onto his lap to which you gladly crawl onto. You settle on his thick thighs with your back against his chest and he lets out the faintest exhale as you relax your weight onto him. Both your bodies are warm from practice, creating a cozy bubble around you two. 

“You comfortable?” He murmurs a little too close to your ear. You only nod, feeling your cheeks burn with a soft buzz in your fingers.

Hank 2 and 3 let out a gasp at what he just did. Sneaky.

“So not fair, Hank no.4!” 

“Sooooo unfair.” 

You lean to the side to grab the door and shut it. He wraps his arms around your waist to keep you from falling. Letting his hands rest limply on your thighs even after the door is shut. 

The car starts with a low rumble and Hank 1 takes one last look in the rear view mirror at you and no.4 before smiling and driving off. 

____

The car ride isn't relatively long. It would have been much longer had you walked, though.

But Hank 4 feels like it's been hours. He's been too afraid to move his hands in fear of touching anything you don't want, so they're still resting atop your thighs.

The music in the car is blasting. Hank 1 and 3 are belting to a song that's playing while also trying to harmonize with each other. 

You and Hank 5 are bobbing your heads, just content with listening, while Hank 2 is clapping his hands to the beat. 

What you don't realize is that every time you sway with the music, you rub up more against him. In more places than one. 

He can only explain it like your butt was perfectly made to sit on his thighs. The soft lump of flesh sitting perfectly on top of him. 

Similarly to Hank 2, he starts mumbling sports teams to himself to calm down.

You look over your shoulder, thinking he's speaking to you, but your noses touch and it catches him off guard. 

“did you say something?” Your eyes are a little doe. And a little tired because it's late and you’re coming from practice. 

“All… all good.” He can't help the love struck expression on his face. His eyes half lidded and his bottom lip is pinched between his teeth. 

Hank 2 thins his lips into a line to stop the laugh threatening to escape him at the sight of Hanks puppy like expression. 

Hank 5 isn't as successful with hiding his laughter. He's been watching you and Hank 4 with his side mirror and his shoulders shake as he cackles into the palm of his hand.

“I…am great.” Hank 4 sighs, his breath flattening against your shirt. He wishes so badly that he could lay his head on your shoulder. Maybe take a nap with you secured safely in his lap. 

He manages to keep his breathing even and his hands mostly to himself when you all arrive at the dorms. 

“Let us walk you inside.” Hank 5 says over his shoulder. 

You’re the first to get out of the car and step on to the sidewalk. When you’re finally out of ear shot, patiently waiting for the Hanks to get out as well, Hank 4 let’s out a groany whimper like he’s been holding it in the whole ride.

 He goes limp in his seat, leaning back and swiping a hand over his face. 

“I woulda handled them way better.” Hank 3 teases on his way out of the car. 

“Not cool, brah.” Hank 4 grumbles. 

The halls suddenly feel a lot… smaller. The Hanks are right behind you in full mass, talking about useless things in a somewhat hushed tone because it is night time afterall. Most students are most likely asleep. 

When you reach your dorm, they stand in the doorway huddled around in front of you, some content with seeing you safe inside and some just trying to get a peek at how you like to decorate.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly, “get home safe, ok?” 

After some internal debate, you muster up the courage to gently place a single kiss on everyone's faces. On their cheeks, foreheads, nose… wherever you can reach. Purely platonic of course…

Yup…

They’re all frozen in place, even after you’ve shut the door they don’t dare move. 

Every single one of them are red in the face. Hank 4 looks especially as if he’ll explode. 

“Let’s… uh…” Hank 1 clears his throat while scratching the back of his neck. “Let’s head home…” 

Chapter Text

The Hanks.



The Hanks owned a two bedroom apartment with one bath and a kitchen. For all it’s worth, the living room and bedrooms are huge. And theirs. It's home. 

They alternate between rooms depending on where or who they’d like to sleep with that night. Sometimes all bundling into one bedroom and onto one bed.

There’s a mini fridge in both rooms. One is filled with sports drinks like Vatorade, VRIME, Valdivian armor, and Celsius (cause some brands never change). While the other is filled to the brim with Sunnyd and Vaprisuns. Or at least it was.

“Yo! Who drank all the Vapri’s?” Hank 2 shuts the mini fridge with a glare at all the orange drinks still inside. He steps out the room just in time with Hank 4 who was washing his hands in the bathroom. A Vaprisun hangs loosely between his lips as he peeks his head out into the hallway. Seemingly having beat the other to the mini fridge just moments before. 

“Do you… wanna share dis one?”  Hank 4 offers while drying his hands off on the edge of his tank top. Biting the straw mindlessly. He steps out into the hallway while shutting the door behind him. Hank 5 is showering and probably doesn’t want anyone watching him do so. At least not tonight, anyway. 

Hank 2 walks over in quick, long, strides before squeezing the small bag still hanging from the other's mouth. “This is already empty, bro!” He nearly shouts. Various cackles can be heard from the living room.  “You already drank it all!”


“Sorry broseph…” he only snickers. Not seemingly very apologetic as he turns and walks away. 

Suddenly he’s yanked back by Hank 2 who puts him in a loose chokehold. Having to drop the empty dried out bag as he tries to pry himself free. 

“What’s the malfunction, bro!?” Hank 4 tries to keep himself from laughing as the both of them stumble into the living room. 

One of them end up tripping over Hank 3’s foot who was simply watching tv and with a Vatorade in his hand… now the drink is spilled on his shirt and he’s clutching his foot. “Not cool!”

The two fall onto the ground in a fit of laughter. Trying to pin the other beneath them in a playful fight. 

“You better buy another box!” Hank 2 says between giggles. He looks down at Hank 4, his hands wrapping tightly around the blond’s wrists who was laughing too hard to fight back. 

“No cap!” He continues, “I just bought that yesterday and it's all gone, dude!” there's no bite behind the glare he has on his face. Instead, his cheeks are red at the sight of Hank 4 trapped below him. Obviously having an effect on them both.

“I will.” Hank 4 says with a happy sigh, coming down slowly from his high of laughter. “On my run tomorrow I’ll buy more, broskie.” 

“You better.” Hank 2 says again before leaning down and kissing him. It’s messy and warm. Their tongues rub together as they moan into one another. 



“Are you guys about to bang?” Hank 1 asks from his seat on the couch with a hand gently placed over his mouth. His cheeks are red and he’s got a small pout on his face. He’s not too surprised, they always got like this after a hard day's work of classes and practice. It didn’t matter where they were as long as there was a flat, sturdy, surface. They were… all… like that, actually.

“Maybe.” Hank 4 says into Hank 2’s mouth. 

“I think you should, lowkey.” Hank 3 stands up to pull his gatorade soaked shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere behind him. His strong chest is covered in warm freckles and the smallest bit of chest hair for everyone to see. His voice dips lower as he walks over to them, crouching behind Hank 2, “Cause I wanna join.” 


—--


“Stop moving..!” Hank 2 is slowly maneuvering his hips down onto Hank 4’s cock who’s still lying on his back. Trying to at least. Hank 4 can’t stop shaking and twitching his hips up, causing 2 to tense up at every sudden movement. 

“I’m trying, bro.” Hank 4 says in a whine while throwing his head back, “It’s not my fault! It’s Hank no. 3!” 

The red head is currently pounding him relentlessly, making it hard for him to focus on keeping still. “Yeah. quite moving.” Hank 3 snickers before peering over 2’s shoulder with a wicked grin as he teases him. 

“S-screw you.” 4 mutters between moans. 


Hank 2 finally settles all his weight onto Hank 4’s hips. Welcoming the familiar ache that comes with getting bottomed out. “Holy shit bro…” he whispers to himself before rocking himself back and forth… back and forth. 

Hank 1 is gently fisting his cock from afar, simply content with watching the spectacle. His legs spread and his other arm rests against the back of the couch. 

“Holy fuck, dude!” The mix of pleasure from his cock and ass leaves 4 a shaking, whiney, mess on the ground. “I’m gonna cum!” 

“You better hold it.” Hank 3 grunts with a bite to 2’s shoulder. “Cause Hank no. 2’s only gotten started.” 

Hank 4 grabs 2’s cock in an attempt to get him a little closer to where him and 3 are. Pumping him in rhythm with his hips as he bucks into him.  

They’re all a mess of moans on the floor. Hank 4 cums first, babbling something about overstimulation when Hanks 2 and 3 cum. Then Hank 1, spilling all over his fist and shirt. 

It’s quiet now, the air filled with heavy breathing and soft gasps. 

The moment, however, is cut short when Hank 5 walks out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His face is red, a little more flushed than normal after he takes a hot shower. “I’m gonna start dinner.” He states, not exactly acknowledging the scene before him. 

Hank 3 eyes him skeptically as Hank 5 walks into the kitchen. “Were you jacking off in there? 

“Duh.” 









 
Hank 5

He was in the shower when he heard a loud thud and a yelp outside. It was the laughing following right after that stopped him from immediately getting out to go check on everyone. 

And it was the moaning after that, that has him now half hard in the shower. “Of course.” he mutters to no one in particular. There’s a soft smile on his face as he leans his back against the shower wall. He lets out a soft gasp at the cold tile before tending to more pressing matters. 

He grabs his cock with one hand before lowering the other to gently grasp his balls, giving both the softest squeeze. “mnh…”

He shuts his eyes to imagine all the ways they could be doing it. Hank 1 on Hank 2… or all of them together… or just jacking off while watching each other. 

For a few long minutes he can only imagine them while stroking himself faster and faster until he’s cumming in ribbons onto the shower floor.  

Now It's time to clean up and make everyone something to eat. They're probably all hungry from practice and sex.

Chapter Text

Thursday, your first scrimmage of the season.


 And it was a two hour bus ride.


The cold air nipped at your fingers. You had made the mistake of only wearing a short sleeve shirt and some shorts thanks to your weather app. It was supposed to be crazy hot later. You didn't expect it to be so cold early in the morning; you could see every breath you take in the crisp air. With a stifled yawn you decide to take a seat on the curb of the side walk while you wait for the bus. Or for anyone else to join you. 

Almost just on time, you hear a set of footsteps behind you. 

Leaning your head back to look up behind you, you find Hank 1 and 3 staring down at you with bright smiles too early in the morning. 

“What's up, hot stu…” Hank 3 trails off with a tilt of his head. His eyes trace the pink dusting your nose and the hair standing on your skin. “Cold stuff?” 

“What's the matter, homie?” Hank 1 takes a seat beside you on the curb. You can feel the heat radiating off him like a warm fire. The urge to hold him and get more sleep nags at you. “You cold?” 

You only nod your head with a yawn. Unable to stifle the whine this time. 

Hank 3 takes a seat on the other side of you, while Hank 1 removes his jacket before you can even protest. 

“Hold on!” You laugh while trying to put the jacket back on him. 

Hank 3 leans close and helps Hank 1 pull the jacket on you completely. “Come on, just take it! Hypothermia is no joke.” 

“I'm not gonna get hypothermia!” You point your thumb at Hank 1, “Besides, what about him? He's only got a tank top on.” 

“And sweatpants.” Hank 1 points out with a wag of his finger. 

Hank 3 nudges you with his shoulder, “we were just running a few laps around campus, babe. He'll be hot enough till the bus comes.” 

With a sigh and a teasing smile, he rolls his shoulders and lays back onto his elbows. “But in my opinion, he's always hot.” 

“quit yankin’ me bro.” Hank 1 leans over you and playfully shoves the other. Unable to hide the soft blush on his cheeks.

“It's true!” He shoves him back, accidentally squishing you between the two as they pinched and prodded at one another.  

To be honest, the warmth of Hank 1’s jacket mixed in with their combined heat had you feeling more comfortably tired than ever. It would be so easy to just lean on one of them and take a nap…

A long yawn from you stopped them from moving so much. Suddenly making them aware of how much they were jostling you between them. 

“Sorry…” they both mutter. To which you only softly shake your head. You didn't mind it one bit. You'd be playing around with them too if it weren't 7 in the morning.

They talk beside you in hushed voices. Incidentally, the soft lull of their laughter and coversation is only tiring you further. 


You hug your knees to your chest and rest your head down atop them. Curling up into a warm ball. 

Hank 1 absentmindedly rubs your back in an attempt to soothe you as you try to rest. Still talking with Hank 3 all the while. 

“I'm telling you dude.” Hank 3 scoffs, “corgis are way cuter than pugs.” 

“All dogs are cute… but you couldn't be more wrong!” Hank 1 emphasizes his words with a soft pat to one of your shoulder blades, “pugs have fatter faces and that's cute as hell.” 

They bicker longer than they really should have on a topic about dogs until the rest of their little hive mind shows up. 

“What's up homie!” Hank 4 drops his bag on the curb after spotting you, his voice a booming echo of excitement in the quiet of the morning, “you ready for today's game?” 

“Shhhh-!” Hanks 1 and 3 swat at 4’s legs in an attempt to shush him. 

“They're sleeping, bro.”

“Ahhh… sorry dudes.” he says in a much quieter voice.






The bus arrives some time after. Hank 5 debates carrying you inside but isn't sure if you're at that level where you're comfortable with being carried yet… Instead, he lightly rubs your back until you're roused awake. He gives you the gentlest smile before helping you up.

Bags are thrown into random seats as everyone huddles around near the front of the bus, despite being able to spread out. But who would wanna do that when they could talk to each other about future plans or who gets to sit beside you. 

You’re trying to find your phone buried deep in the bag on your lap when you hear angry, not subtle, whispers on the side. You just smile. Unable to keep a poker face while you ignore them. 


“You got to sit with them last time!”

“That's sooo not fair dude. That was like a five minute ride!” 

“I barely got to spend time with them this week. Not my fault I'm employed.”

“We're all employed bro!” 

“Rock paper scissors!”

The five of them play a small tournament game of rock paper scissors until it's just Hanks 5 and 1 in the final round. The bus is already rolling out of the parking lot when they start.

They're staring at one another intently, both on their knees on their own seats to face each other over the leather backings. 

If anyone were to look through the windows into this very bus they'd think a brawl is about to start. 



You are still patiently waiting in your seat. Watching with a small smile on your face. They're so cute you think to yourself. You've caught yourself thinking that a lot recently.



“Rock.” 

“Paper.” 

“Scissors!”





Hank 5 has his fist balled into rock. 

While Hank 1 has his hand mimicking scissors.

“WOAAHHH!!” They all whoop in unison. All of them clearly enjoyed themselves in their little game. It was taken so seriously you'd think they weren’t even playing rock-paper-scissors at all. When they all turn to you, they suddenly freeze. You were watching them the whole time… 

fight over who gets to sit beside you… 

Hank 1 takes a small step out of his seat, a kind but bashful smile on his face. “Ahem… is it ok if I-” 

The bus comes to a skidding stop. He takes another larger step forward but loses his footing. His hand lands beside your head on the window behind you, at the same time you reach out to grab him by his hoodie, trying to steady him. 

His face is inches away from yours. Your hands are still gripping the fabric over his chest. He's about to pull away. Maybe apologize, when the sound of the bus driver's voice has you both turning to catch the man looking back in his rearview mirror. 

“Sorry about that. Pedestrians.” He coughs before pressing lightly on the gas to get the bus moving again. “Try to stay in your seats, yeah? Wouldn't want anything to happen.” 

You barely catch it but there's an almost devious smirk on the man's face before he refocuses on the road. 

“Sorry!” Hank 1 waves a hand to the bus driver before taking a seat beside you. 

“Sorry to you too.” He laughs nervously, like he almost regrets winning that game. “It's alright if I sit here, yeah?” He asks. 

You respond with a nod, “Of course. You won rock-paper-scissors didn't you?” you tilt your head with a teasing smile.

“Ha- let's just… forget about that! Pretend you didn't see us… uh… do that.” He looks down at you with the cutest pout. His brows are furrowed and his lips are slightly puckered. Almost like they're made for gentle kisses. 

Nope. Stop. 

He's your teammate and now a close friend. You can't be thinking stuff like that, you correct yourself. 

But you can't help but notice the darkening of his cheeks and the not subtle way his eyes flicker to your lips the same way you keep doing his. 

You both flinch when the rest of your team swiftly switch their seats to sit in the front and behind spots of you two.

“Woah… you lot’ nearly tipped the whole bus over.” The driver cackles to himself.











“Sooo…” Hank 2 and 4 are sitting in front of you while turned around in their seats. “What should we play first?” One of them asks. 

“How about ‘I spy’?” Hanks 3 and 5 are behind you. Leaning over the backings of your chair.

“Sick.” Hank 1 nods his head before crossing his arms over his chest and getting comfortable. “I spy… something grey.” 

“The light poles outside!” Hank 4 guesses.

Hank 1 does a thumbs down. Mimicking the sound of a buzzer. “Wronggg.” 

“hmm..” Hank 2 glances sceptically around the bus, “is it the ceiling?” 

“That's white doofis!”

He squints with a frown. “Damn. It is white.” He says defeatedly. 

You tilt your head up with a snicker before noticing something. “Is it the bolts on the ceiling?” 

“You got it!” Hank 1 pats you on the shoulder with a proud grin. “Good work, homie.” 

You puff out your chest with an also proud smile. “Ok my turn!” 


You take quick, short glances around. Then looking down at your lap so they don't know what caught your eye. “I spy something blue!”

“The sky!”

“Nope!”

“No. 3’s bag?” 

“Nuh uh.” 

Hank 4 looks around with a squint. He turns back around in his seat to look at the front of the bus before choking back a laugh and facing you. “Is it the bus drivers hat?” He asks in a sort of hushed tone. 

The rest of the group look towards the distracted driver with snickers of their own.

“Yeah. Hehe…”










You play a series of mini road trip games while having hilarious conversations in-between them. 

“Why don't you guys ever visit me at work?” Hank 3 lets out a dramatic groan as he rests his elbows on the backing of your seat. “Oh hold up. I haven't shown you where I worked yet have I, cutie?” 

You turn around to look up at him, accidentally bumping thighs with Hank 1 who let's out a soft grunt. You've gotten used to Hank 3’s nicknames for you. 

Hank 5 bumps him with his shoulder, “I already showed them. They asked for the clinic about a week ago.” 

Hank 3 turns back to you with feigned offense. “And you still haven't visited!” 

You start to wave your hands nervously, “I was trying to find a place that does checkups for dogs!” You clarify. 




“You’ve got a dog?” Hank 1 is now suddenly a lot more tuned in on the conversation.

“Unfortunately.” You scratch the back of your head. “One of my friends actually gave him to me because it was on his porch hiding from a storm… ahh, do you know Dunk Shuttlecock?”
 
Hank 1 shakes his head while Hank 4 chimes in, “hey I know him! He's totally rad. Taught me the basics of baseball.” 

“He taught me my serves!” Hank 2 looks back fondly at the memory of Dunk and him.

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. Your best and forever friend was always good at socializing and everything sports. Knowing the Hanks know him in a good light makes you feel like a proud parent who’s kid is making good friends. 

“Anyways,” you manage to get your train of thought back on track to continue your explanation “His dad is allergic to dog fur so he asked if I could keep him ti'll we find a good home for him…but…” 

You look down at your hands for a moment. There's a frown on your face.

“The dorms don't allow pets, and it's been really hard to hide him. And when I'm at my lectures he tends to whine a lot when I'm gone…” it especially tugs at your heart knowing you don't exactly have a dog friendly environment for him. You only have so much time to go to the park with class and practice, and that itself comes with the problem of having to sneak the dog in and out of the dorms without being caught. 

“Soo…” Hank 5 rests his head in his hands, thinking thoughtfully before looking down at Hank 1, “what your saying is, that you're trying to find a home that has plenty of money to buy it snacks and toys… has a sick ass dog park nearby… five guys that'll love it a gnarly amount… and… will clean the apartment before it comes over?” 

You follow Hank 5’s gaze to Hank 1. Genuine surprise on your face. 

He's practically beeming. His knee is bouncing with barely contained excitement and brushing against yours. 

Hank 3 lets out an affectionate scoff. “I haven't seen him this eager since we went on that one adventure that had us go to a dog cafe.” 

Hank 1 makes eyes contact with them one by one as if trying to seek their approval. He stops at Hank 2 who has a look of contemplation on his face. 

“I dunno dudes…” he tries his hardest not to look at Hank 1 but Hank 4 grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him in so he has to. Your eyes widen a fraction at the new blush on Hank 2s face. 

“It's bummy to look away, dude. As least look him in the eyes if you're gonna say no.” 4 snickers into the others ear. A toothy grin on his face.

Hank 1’s brows are practically knit together and his eyes are glossy as he tries to put on his best puppy dog face. 

Hank 2 freezes. “W-what if it leaks all over the house?” He asks as a final hurra of protest. 

“I'll take it out after every snack and meal.” Hank 1 says with the most serious expression. “And if it does go I'll clean it up! You guys won't have to do anything!” 

You feel like you're watching a toddler try to convince his parents to let him have a pet. 




“Mmhhh…”




“alright…” Hank 2 caves. You can't exactly blame him. The look on Hank 1’s face would have you giving him anything he wanted if he only asked.


Hank 1 stands up from his seat and grabs 2 by the face before placing a long kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for not being a lamewad dude!” 



You clap your hands together with a little cheer. The last few days have been extremely stressful due to this whole dog situation. Knowing it'll have the perfect home is a huge relief. You wrap your arms around him when he settles back into his seat beside you. “Thank you so much!” 

Hank 1 freezes for a fraction of a moment, clearly caught off guard before hugging you back with rib crushing strength. “Nah, thank you homie! You have no idea!” 

“Can I get a hug too, yo?” Hank 4 blurts out. 




___





An hour later. 



The school is huge. 

The bus is still rolling into the parking lot when you press your hand to the window. “Holy cow!” 

“Green… Tin.” Hank 3 squints at the large sign at the entrance. “What kind of a name is Greentin??” 

“We go to Rebowl, dude.” You scoff, “I'd say ‘Greentin’ is loads cooler.” 

Hank 4 suddenly presses his hands into his hair, suddenly distrest. “You aren't thinken’ of moving, are ya homie!?” 

“No!” you snicker loudly before looking at him to reassure him. “I'm just saying, we shouldn't make fun of other schools with a name like ours.” 

“What's wrong with Redbowl?” Hank 1 gasps dramatically.

“What isn't wrong with Redbowl?” Hank 2 lets out a sigh before mimicking your action and putting his hand against his own window. 

“See, you get me!” You flash Hank 2 a soft smile. You both feel a sort of kinship with your dislike for Redbowl. More specifically the state of the buildings and how they run things. Compared to Greentin’s prim and proper, and also newly painted- buildings, Redbowl has a run for its money. 

“Oh hey, it's Mr. Every!” Hank 5 leans over Hank 3’s shoulder to look out the window. Mr. Every had opted to driving himself here, seeing as it was the better option than sitting in a hot bus with no ac and six rowdy college kids.  

The bus stops before the entry way where Mr. Every is standing. The Hanks are immediately grabbing their things and yours before hauling out the bus with the occasional groan. 

“ two hours of sitting. So not gnarly.” Hank 2 raises his arms up in a stretch.

“I didn't mind it…” Hank 1 admits softly.

“Cause you were next to them, brah… I'd be pretty damn happy too.” Hank 3 grumbles while in the middle of his own stretching. 

“The perk of being an adult with your own car is you don't gotta sit in a cramped bus for two hours.” Mr. Every grins, sporting some sun glasses and swinging his keys on his pointer finger. 

“We are adults with our own cars!” Hank 3 frowns. 

“Oh… then why'd you guys take the bus?” He asks. 


Standing in the back, you don't notice the five of them subtly glance at you. It's when Mr. Every follows their gazes and lands on you. 

“Ah…” 

They took the bus because you wanted to. Yeah they had their own cars with ample space and ac but when you told them how nostalgic it was to take a bus to games, how could they not agree to take the bus. It wasn't all that bad, anyways. It meant more time to hang out with you in close proximity. If you guys had opted to take their car, someone would have had to ride alone in a separate vehicle, or you'd all be split up in some way. They probably wouldn't have been able to use the excuse of there's only one car again to have you sit in one of their laps.

Mr. Every clears his throat before the silence can drag on too long. “Alright, grab your bags. Let's sign in and head to the gym.”




A nice lady greets you at the office and you're the first to sign the sheet as the Hanks aren't too keen on keeping you behind them for too long. 

The first paper is completely full. You guess that they have a lot of scrimmages scheduled today. After flipping the paper over to the next, you find a familiar name scribbled in-between the lines. The date is wrong and you see the familiar doodle over his writing. You let out a sharp gasp. Your face immediately lighting up with excitement. 

The Hanks immediately stop their conversations to check on you. Crowding behind you and some leaning over your shoulder to see what your looking at. 

“Hey!! It's him-!” They shout excitedly in unison. The office lady politely shushes them and they wince before apologizing.

The rest of them messily sign in after you with their own little doodles. The lady scans the paper with a frown, 

“Hank 1… Hank 2… Hank- is this a joke?” She looks back up to find your team already gone. Coach Every has to stay behind to explain the oddity of his players while you practically sprint your way to the gym, following the signs around the school with sharp turns around the corners. 

The Hanks are a laughing mess behind you as they try to keep up. 

You find the large set of double doors with the familiar sound of sneakers scudding against the court floor behind it. You come to, too quick of a stop in front of the Hanks and they don't have enough time to stop with you. 

Well- Hank 4 is actually the one that didn't stop in time. He tried to. But then tripped over his own foot and basically flew into Hank 2, who toppled into Hanks 3 and 1, and then bumped into Hank 5… 

Hank 5 tripped forward into you but caught you both. He wrapped his arm around your chest quickly and slammed his other hand against the door so you wouldn't fall into it and get hurt. 

You were held so close to him that your entire back side was pressed against his front. 

He lets out a long sigh behind you before loosening his hold but not entirely letting go. 

“You ok?” He asks worriedly, letting out a shaky breath when he finally pulls you two upright. 

“I'm ok… are they ok?” you nod your head and then lean over his shoulder to look at the pile of Hanks sprawled out on the floor. Hank 5 turns around to let out the faintest chuckle. 

“Dude- dude.” Hank 2 is on his stomach with Hank 4 directly on top of him and groaning. It looks almost… lewd.

“Damn.” You accidentally slip out. Hank 5, at the same time says, 

“Hot.”

You both glance at each other before laughing softly and turning back to the bundle of limbs on the ground. The other three landed on either their sides, stomach, or hands and knees. 

With the softest chuckle you crouch down to Hank 3 who was pushing himself up with a groan. 

“You ok?” you gently take his hands to help him.

“I am now.” he grins shamelessly at the sight of you so close. 

“Cringe.” Hank 2 says from beneath Hank 4. 


You all help one another up right and grab your bags from the ground before slowly opening the double doors. 

The Gymnasium feels as though it's even bigger than the school itself. There's multiple teams either practicing or messing around. It's quite lively. There's lots of chatter with the sounds of different sports echoing throughout the gym. 

You step inside first, ignoring the various gazes thrown your way. When the Hanks follow in behind you, the person you were looking for suddenly makes eye contact with you. 

“Yo yo yooo!” The familiar voice booms before rising to his feet. He was sitting on the ground against the ground against the wall and is now jogging your way. His speed suddenly picks up the closer he gets to you and he practically tackles you. 

“Dunk!” You happily nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck when he hugs you against his hard chest. Your best and closest friend. Dunk Shuttlecock.

“Dunkkk!” Hank 2 steps inside to pat him on the back.

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a giggle. You pull away to catch the uniform he has on. “Baseball?” 

“You know it!” He smiles at you fondly. He turns to Hank 2, dapping up the man and pulling him into a hug equally as crushing as the one he shared with you. 

“What's up, man! It's been awhile.” he practically shakes Hank 2 who lets out a squeaked groan. 

He pulls away from Hank 2 to return to you. Wrapping a friendly arm over your shoulder. “So what's new, buddy? We haven't talked in a bit, since I dropped that cutie off with you.” 

“Cutie?” The Hanks all tilt their heads in a somewhat comedic way. 

“The dog.” You clarify, “speaking of! Dunk!” You step away to stand beside Hank 1, presenting him like a trophy. “He said he'll take her in!”  

Hank 1 tenses up. Instinctively straightening himself to look presentable. He looks as if he's trying to gain Dunk's approval. 

“Oh yeah?” Dunk slowly strides up to him with a wide smirk. He stops right before him, nearly chest to chest. 

They make long eye contact like they're speaking telepathically. Almost awkwardly long before Dunk bursts into laughter. 

“You're cool. I like you!” They high five with the crispiest echo you've ever heard.

“Thanks, amigo! You aren't too bad yourself from what I've heard.” 

Dunks way with making friends would always leave you speechless. You've seen it countless times again and again… and now you're seeing it another time. 

Dunk introduces himself to the rest of your team and you all make your way to the side of the gym where Dunk has his own team sitting down and relaxing. He had explained that he was here for a baseball scrimmage and their team decided to wait inside till the bus got here. It was was too hot to sit outside. At least in here they've got decent ac… which is honestly surprising because Redbowl didn't have a single building with built in ac besides the office and staff rooms. 

The two teams exchange handshakes while you wait for the basketball players to finish their game on the court. Mr. Every is still in the office most likely flirting with the people at the front desk so all you can really do is catch up with Dunk. 

“So… you joined volleyball?” Dunk lightly nudges you with his shoulder. 

“Mhm.” You squeeze your lips together to keep yourself from smiling. You smile anyway.

“Wow, you really like it huh?” Dunk's smile is just as bright as yours as he leans into you like you're telling him a secret.

“I… yeah. I do.” You glance over to the Hanks who are busy chatting with the baseball team. Dunk follows your gaze. 

“You like… them?” Dunk asks casually.

“Mhm…” you hum affirmatively again. The question only registering in your head when it's too late. Your eyes widen and you look up at Dunk who has a down right devious look on his face.

“Ohhh~” He let's out a too obvious cackle that catches the Baseball team’s and the Hanks attention. 

You quickly grab Dunk by his shoulders and pull him a few more steps away from the group. You two were already a bit far away, now you're practically across the court. 

“I didn't- I meant that I…” you let out a groan of frustration. “I don't know yet, ok?” You mutter. 

“They're sweet.” Is all you'll admit. 

“Mnh…” Dunk hums kindly before pressing a grounding hand to your shoulder. “It's alright Buddy. I get it. You just let me know when you've got it all figured out, yeah?” 

“Cause you know I'm gonna want to know everything.” He continues with a chuckle.

You return with a laugh of your own. “sure.”



You return to your little group just in time for coach Every to enter the gym with another coach and team behind him. They're tall. They're tall and intimidating but more importantly… they have their uniforms on. 

“Hey, come.” Mr. Every nods his head in the direction of another set of doors. He seems to be in official coach mode now that there's another, more clean cut, coach beside him. 

You all friendily greet the other team, even despit some of them not greeting you guys as kindly before following your coach into what seems to be the nicest locker rooms you've ever seen. There's huge stalls and big mirrors with newly painted walls. 

“Christ…” you mumble, almost annoyed by how nice even the lockers are.

“You could say that again.” Hank 2 mutters behind you. You turn around to catch the frown on his face before smiling down at you. 

You had to use the restroom some time after playing another game of Eye Spy on the bus, so you decided to also change in one of the bathroom stalls. 

The Hanks are talking loudly, excited and also asking you questions too despite being in the stall. Just so you don't feel left out of their conversation. 

“They were pretty tall, man.” One of them sighs. 

“maybe, but they were real skinny, bro. No meat on your bones means no strength!” 

“Not always, brah! And in Volleyball you don't gotta be strong to be good!” 

“Doesn't matter, yo! We're gonna win anyway!” One of them happily cheers, “right homie?” You hear a sharp nock on the stall door. Startling you with a yelp, you nearly fall over while in the middle of putting your shorts on. 

“it’s not cool to interrupt someones changing ritual before a game!” Another Hank interupts. 

“ah- sorry…” 

“No it's ok, I'm almost done.” You laugh. 

You stuff you clothes into your bag already with Hank 1’s jacket and step out the stall with a smile. Last time you all wore your jerseys for practice, it was the only part of the uniform you had on. Now, you've got the matching shorts with white kneepads on. After seeing the jersey designs for the first time, you bought a matching knee brace and sleeve. It's equally colorful with matching themes. You've even got your lucky shoes on. 

You look up to see the Hanks in equally colorful attire with their matching uniforms, but more importantly, they're all red in the face. Especially Hank 3.

“Totally righteous bro… it should be a crime to wear anything else than that.” Hank three lets out a hot puff of air, “unless you aren't wearing anything at all.” 

The other Hanks let out an annoyed groan but… no one comments on his antics like usual.

“You look… great, brah.” Hank 5 says softly as the closest one to you. He takes another step forward, his gaze travels down… and then up. “So cool.”

“You look like you're… with us.” Hank 4 says aloud. Hank 1 and 2 whip their heads around with a look of beheilderment and betrayal. Hank 4 slaps a hand over his mouth as his face grows an even brighter shade of red and regret.

“I am with you, though.” You tilt your head with a smile but raised brow. “We're on the same team.” 

“I-” Hank 4 muffles into his palm, “yeah- you're right. I dunno why I said that.” 

Hank 5 anxiously fiddles with the hem of his shirt, needing to do something with his fidgety hands. “Lets just, let's just go!” he huffs with an almost pout on his face.

Everyone sets their bags into safer parts of the locker room before stepping back into the gym but not before sending a few glances your way. You noticed, of course. But you thought they were just admiring the outfits. You were at least. You were eyeing them up because of how well it suited them. 

At least that's what you've been telling yourself. 





While making your way to the court, you lightly tap Hank 5 on the shoulder before whispering behind him.


“I think you all look great too. Real cute.” You flash him an innocent smile when he looks over his shoulder at you with widened eyes. 

“Th-thanks… brah…” 




You huddle in a group around Coach while the other team does the same. You feel multiple gazes on you though, more than usual. Instinctively, you looks towards the source of the heated gazes and see some of the players on the other side staring. You nervously turn back to Coach Every, assuming they're just curious eyes. But the Hank's know better. Hank 1 maneuvers himself so he's standing between you and them, effectively hiding you. You don't even notice because of how focused he looks on Coach's speech. Meanwhile, Hank 4 is staring at them with a glaring side eye until they get scolded by their own coach for not paying attention. 

The Hanks let out a pregame woop before dispanding to start warming up. 

The two teams stand at their respective sides as their coaches start leading drills. Your team is messy, filled with laughter and encouragement while in contrast, the other is quiet. Serious. Even despit it being ‘just a scrimmage’, but the Hanks don't let your focus linger on them for too long. 

Even when messing up during a drill and the other players stare, no one feels embarrassed or shameful. You instead crack jokes like you've all been friends for years. Even if they've been friends for years, and you've only known them a few weeks, you don't feel left out of anything in the slightest. When someone makes an inside joke they're quick to explain it you so that you're in on it too. Or the way they show physical affection, they aren't afraid to share the same touch with you. A pat on your lower back, a lingering hand on your shoulder, a ruffle to your hair before brushing away any frizzy strands… 

God, you feel like you belong.





You’re in the middle of a receiving drill when Hank 4 catches a ball with his face… again. Yet somehow, it still makes it's way back to the setter spot. 

“You should give that move a name.” Hank 3 scoffs. 

“I'm not giving the times I get hit in the face a name.” Hank 4 grumbles with a swipe to his nose. 

“You might aswell!” 

“Hank. Move out the way already!” Coach sneers when he's still standing in the middle of the court. 

“Sorry! Sorry.” He winces before running over to you and leaning over your shoulder. “It'd name it ‘Using Your Head.’” He whispers before continuing and walking over to Hank 1 at the back of the drill line. 

You burst into stiffled laughter, trying to hold it together when the the loud buzzer signals for everyone to start the serving drill.


Past him, you notice Dunk is still here. Now wearing his casual attire.

Dunk makes his way to you, standing a few feet away from you with a smile on his face. “Hey buddy, you look good!”

You return the smile while serving the ball in your hand to the other side, making sure to dodge any flying your way. “Whatcha still doing here?” 

“I wanted to watch you play!” He explains.

You look past him at the group sitting on the ground. “And your team..?” 

“Wanted to stay since I was staying.” He chuckles bashfuly. Dunk wasn't just the captain, he was well liked by his team. Of course they'd want to be were he is. 

“That's sweet.” You grab another ball and serve it over with a grunt. “Guess I gotta try now that you're here to watch me.” You playfully roll your eyes. 

“Just make sure you're having fun.” He affectionately shoves you. 

You talk a little more with Hank 2 pitching in occasionally. You notice he isn't doing his usual serve. 

When time is up, you all huddle around coach Every for a final pep talk before finally starting the game. “Alright kids, this is just a scrimmage. Have fun, but more importantly-” coach lowers his voice to a whisper, “beat their asses.” He winks. 
Your two teams thank one another before getting into your respective rotations. 

Hank 2 is starting server. From your spot in the back, you can see the smug looks on some of the opposing teams faces. Like they're… looking down on all of you? A proud part of you can't wait to see the next look on their faces.

Chapter Text

You were almost nervous. Nervous because it had been a while since you found a good team and stayed long enough to play against another school. Almost because you were confident in the Hank's abilities. The sudden seriousness of your team eased the dryness in your throat. Lightly pushing the rising unease in your stomach to stop bubbling. It was the casual confidence that the other team had that was making your hands shake. You felt like the years you went not  playing volleyball had you out of your game. 

“Hey. Bro.” You hear a soft whisper to your right. You find Hank 4 frowning at you. Seeing you scared made him feel… uneasy. He didn't like it. Just like how he hated seeing the other Hanks feel anything less than comfortable and happy in their element. “It's ok. Just breathe, homie. There's no actual stakes to this, you don't gotta worry about anything, amigo.” He assures you in a hushed tone as you all wait for the referee's signal to serve. 

You nod your head once, your gaze flickering to the floor before landing back on him. He presses his hand to his chest, making a show of taking a deep breath in to tell you to follow his breathing. You do. Inhaling slowly, holding it, and then exhaling when he does, until the only things you can focus on are him, and Hank 2 lightly hitting the ball on the court ground while he waits. 

You give a wobbly smile before whispering back, “Thank you. Sorry, it's been awhile since I've played.” 

He shakes his head with a firm, grounding smile of his own. “No need to be sorry, homie, we all get like that from time to time. I'm glad to be here during your first.” He pauses, thinking that doesn't sound right, “in a while. Your first… in a while.” He explains with a flush of his cheeks before awkwardly turning back to the game. 

You can't help but relax as a small laugh bubbles out of your throat. 

The whistle blows and Hank 2 bounces the ball once. Then twice. Over the soft echo, you hear the other team begin to whisper. 

“He's got a weak serve.” 

“Stay upfront.”

“Saw him during warmups. Ball probably won't even make it over the net.” 

You take a deep breath in. Wow you wanna punch a few people. 

But from the way Hank 1 relaxes up at the front, he no doubtly heard them too… and he's confident that Hank 2 is about to make this satisfying as hell to watch. Because unpredictable float serves weren't the only thing Dunk taught Hank no.2.

He throws the ball into the air before running after it. His shoes skid against the floor as he jumps and spikes the ball with a loud slap. Because the other team underestimated the strength of Hank 2’s spikes, they were too close to the net to receive the ball landing behind them. 

The lineman points the flag at the ground, signaling in and the referry dictates a point to your side. 

Behind your cheering, you hear Dunk and his baseball team in the back letting out loud whoops and cheers of their own. 

“It's jut one fucking point…” someone on the other team mumbles a little too loudly to be an accidental slip. But it doesn't matter, your grin never falters because the smug looks that some of them have on their face just cracked. 

The whistle blows and Hank 2 steps back into his spot again. Far behind the line. This time though… The other team steps back too, to cover the back of the court. 

Hank 2 can't hold back the cocky grin he now wears. 

This time instead of his quick spike, he changes his strength and hit to do a float serve. It's still as fast as before but right as it passes over the net, it loses its speed and drops before the team can get to it. Someone had attempted to dive for it but was seconds too late. 

Dunk and the rest let out an even louder roar of cheers. More so being playful with their chants as Hank 2 sets up for another serve. This happens three more times before one of the guys on the other team begins shouting at his own teammates.

“Would you guys lock-the fuck-in!” He practically screams, making even Hank 5 himself flinch. The young man lowers his voice with a scowl, “cause I don't plan on losing to a bum ass school like this.” 

“How about you get the ball then!” Hank 3 taunts. 

The man whips his head to Hank 3 with a glare, who then in turn, spins around and stares at the back wall sceptically. Acting as though he didn't see anything and is now looking for the culprit.  

The whistle blows. Hank 2 throws the ball but unfortunately miscalculates a step and is a few inches too far from the ball. Still, he hits it, just not as accurately.

It's still surprisingly fast and strong and definitely would have hit its mark if this were a different game, but Greentin's team has already caught on to some of the patterns. The angry man moments ago receives the ball. Making this the first ball to get into the air on their side after five points. 

“How's that for getting the ball?” The man hisses. 

A tall brunette sets the ball and at an amazing speed, another, swoller man spikes the ball straight at you before Hank 5 and 1 can block it. You didn't even register it. Your reaction was purely instinctual. Your arms moved before you could think to and received it straight to Hank 1 who positioned himself into the middle. 

“You aren't the only one who can receive, amigo!” Hank 3 speaks for you right as he jumps into the air to spike the ball. Proudly using your skills to dig at the other team's member. 

The three front players on the other team quickly step over to block him, but it doesn't matter. Hank 5 wasn't setting to 3 and Hank 3 knew that. He was setting to Hank 1, unblocked, and who now has the perfect view to spike it straight down before anyone else can get to it. It hits the ground with a slam. 

“Fuck!” The player shouts. He walks away from the net before he can even look at the wide grin Hank 3 is sporting. 

Hank 1 has a few hands firmly patting at his back as everyone gets into their spots. 

“So fucking annoying.” The man mutters, his voice becoming familiar far too quickly. 

“Good job buddy!” You hear Dunk in the back. He doesn't specify who he's talking to but when you look at him over your shoulder, he's giving you a thumbs up. 

“I'm just gonna bump it over so we can actually play, ss’ that alright dudes?” Hank 2 asks from his spot behind the line. You look towards the other Hanks, they either shrug their shoulders or give him an affirmative nod to go ahead. 

Hank 2 does a gentle bump over the net, which only earns a scoff from the angry man which you're now referring to as player #16. 

Another person receives the ball with a gentle bump. Creating a set for another to spike it straight down. 

Hank 1 tries to hit it up with his palm but the referee calls it a carry. Earning the other team their first point. 

“That's what I'm talking about!” Player #16 whoops as they share gentle highfives. 

“Sorry bros” Hank 1 frowns when he turns to you guys. You give his bicep a gentle squeeze,

“Don't be. It's just one point, and it was just a mistake on our end + Hank 2 going easy on them. We'll get them next time.” You offer a gentle smile to which he returns one of his own. 

Now it's the other teams turn to serve. They rotate, conveniently having Player #16 as their server. 

After the whistle, he spikes the ball. It isn't fancy and doesn't have any tricks to it but it's still strong. Hank 3 receives it but it hits his arms unevenly, causing it to fly out the court.

Hank 3 does the smallest grunt. The frown on his face is all #16 needs to feed his ego. 

“Look who's making mistakes!” He says,

“At least our mistake didn't cost us five points!” Hank 5 quips back.

“It's alright!” You all reassure Hank 3 but he isn't exactly listening. Instead, he pulls Hank 4 in close who then rests his chin on 3’s shoulder from behind. It looks almost intimate in a way with 4’s hand on 3’s waist, as 3 mutters something into the other's ear that you don't catch.

The other team is serving again but makes it obvious that he's going to target Hank 3. The ball flies at him but instead of receiving it, Hank 3 dodges out of the way to reveal Hank 4 close behind him. He receives it right back to Hank 5, who sets it to Hank 1 again. There wasn't a decoy this time so the other team was able to predict his spike, jumping in time to block him. 

You and Hank 4 were covering close beside him while Hank 2 was covering farther behind. You dive for the ball. Giving them another chance to try again. 

5 sets it, Hank 3 spikes it, and it bounces off the other team's block into the air. 

“I've got it!” Someone on the other team calls out before setting up a quick play of their own. 

The ball goes back and forth a few more times. Neither team letting it hit the ground. 

“Right here!” A player on the other side of the net calls out. 

You take a few steps back just in time for the ball to hit over the net. You turn your head last second because the ball comes straight to your face, hitting your cheek and going straight into the air. 

“You alright?” Hank 2 calls out.

“I'm ok!” 

The ball is in the air a few feet away from Hank 3. Never one to back down from an opportunity, he jumps up to meet the ball before dumping it over the net and letting it land on the floor. 

“Hell yeah!” Your team cheers. 

You rub your cheek but the sting is dulled by your happy smile. 

The scrimmage played on a bit longer. It was the second set with you winning the first set. It was now 19 to 21 with Greentin in the lead. Player #16 had been running his mouth the entire game and it was absolutely pissing you off, because he was only insulting the Hanks! 

The ball is in the air on the other team's side. Hank 2 jumps up to block it but it goes straight down after hitting his hands. Hank 4 was to the right of him at the front (because that's allowed even if he's a libero) already on the ground with his hand on the floor to pancake the ball back into the air. Unfortunately though, no one else was close enough to get it from there. 

The other team gets another point. 19-22. 

Hank 4 lets out a soft laugh before going limp on the ground just to catch his breath for a second. Even you were exhausted. Two games while not getting subbed out once. Hank 2 crouches beside Hank 4 to gently pat his back.

“Jesus christ he's like a fucking bug.” 

You whip your head at the opposing player who just said that, raising a brow with a frown. It was #16 again. You're about to quip something back but you bite your bottom lip to keep from saying anything rash. 

“What? You got something to say?” He sneers.

“Is there a problem, brah?” Hank 5 steps closer to you, shooting a concerned look your way before glaring at the man.

“No. There isn't.” You whisper, gently trying to pull Hank 5 back in fear of this getting out of hand. 

“Yeah that's what I thought.” #16 scoffs.

“Would you chill out? This is just a scrimmage, Mike.” one of his teammates mutter, similarly to you, they're trying to pull #16 away back to his spot. 

“Nah, they said shit too!” 

“Because you started it!” You finally shout back. 

“How about you keep your pretty mouth shut and stay behind your fucking boyfriend!” #16 steps closer to the net, effectively shoving his teammate off of him. As soon as he starts prowling closer, Hank 2 and 4 are quickly on their feet, rising to their full height as if to step in the second he gets on their side of the net to you. You almost don't catch it but the look on their faces is enough to have Player #16 stop in his tracks and rethink what he was about to do. Hank 5 steps in front of you again, this time completely in front of you. 

A whistle sounds as both coaches come forward to break the “argument.” 

“Coach we weren't doing nothin’.” Hank 1 mutters, his eyes still a piercing glare at #16. 

“I know, I know.” He whispers. He isn't mad at you guys, he was listening the whole game. When he was young he used to get in plenty of arguments that ended with fists flying, but against a school like this, he just can't risk something happening to his players. He lightly nudges you guys back to your spots, pretending to scold you guys but he isn't even speaking directly to you. He's rolling his eyes and staring at the side. 

Both coaches return to their benches. You notice that Dunk is also sitting at the bench. His arms are crossed and there's the faintest frown on his face while he scans the opposing team. When he eventually makes eye contact with you, he raises a brow and gives you a weak thumbs up. Silently asking, are you ok? 

You return with a small thumbs up of your own. I'm fine.

You squint at him when coach Every fist bumps Dunk. Both having familiar smiles on their face as if they already know each other, because of course they do… god damn it Dunk. 

Someone on their team is getting ready to serve. They half-heartedly bump the ball over with a sigh. 

“You’ fucking kidding me?” #16- or Mike, turns to glare at his teammate. 

“I've got it.” You call out. Hank 5 steps into the middle and you bump it towards him. 

You, Hank 2, and Hank 3, all step back as if he's setting to each one of you. Effectively confusing the other team. 

Almost simultaneously, you three run up to the net. 

Hank 5 sets it to you, mid swing. Someone had tried to receive it but it flew off of them, out of the court.  

“Yeah buddy!” You hear Dunk cheer beside coach Every who gives you an approving nod of his head. 

Hank 5 gives you a high five and Hank 4 pats you on the back before returning to their spots. “Killer spike, yo!” Hank 4 grins, showing off his chipped tooth. 

It was your turn to serve.  

You step behind the line with a shaky sigh. You didn't have the most impressive serve but you could always count on it getting over the net and staying inside the court. 

You send it over. It lands between two players who were about to go for it before stopping when they saw the other. 

“Sorry…”

“Oh- my bad.” 

The two mumble to each other. 

You hear praise from the Hanks and Dunk, it relaxed your nerves slightly. 

You send it again. 

“Out!” One of their players move out the way so they don't touch the ball. You wince. You're about to apologize when the lineman points his flag at the ground. It was actually in. 

“Hell yeah, homie!”

“Sick!”

“Nice!” 

Again. It's close to the line so the players move out the way to let it hit out but the lineman calls it in. 

“Would you guy's just play the fucking ball even if you think it's out!” That Mike person shouts. 

This time after serving the ball, Mike receives it. Sending it to their setter so they can play it. It's spiked to you, you receive it. 

Hank 5 sets the ball to Hank 4 and it's like he uses all his growing irritation to hit the ball. Despite their being two blockers in front of him, he slams the ball, breaking their wall and sending it out the court. As they were the last one to touch it, your team earns another point. 

#16 is quiet but his expression betrays any casualness he's trying to portray. He looks absolutely pissed.

When you serve again, a petty part of yourself has you subconsciously hitting it straight towards #16. Mike. 

Maybe he was tired, or he wasn't paying attention. But it lands a few feet in front of him. He jerks forward but doesn't get close before it hits the ground. 

“Ohhhhh!” The Hanks cheer in unison. They crowd around you with proud smiles. Hank 1 hooks an arm around your shoulders before nuzzling his cheek against the top of your hair. 

They praise you with bright smiles and Dunk makes his way over.

“Good job you guys! You did great!” He pats you all on the back before pulling you into a tight hug. It was almost ritualistic. You two would hug before and after one of his games or yours, like it was a good luck act. 

“So how was it?” He pulls away with a softened smile. You know what he's asking. You had tried many different sports before but thanks to Redbowl, no team or sport had really had you wanting to stay after one game. Everytime, he'd ask you how you felt, and you'd tell him it just wasn't for you. 

This time, his smile was a little wobbly. Volleyball was the last physical sport there was for you to try. He wanted you to enjoy something but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what when Redbowl was so difficult to work with. And now… your first semi-game and you had encountered a pretty rude player on the other team. He was silently hoping that didn't ruin it for you. 

“I liked it.” You say fondly, “I really did.” 

The Hanks are still close by, watching. They aren't aware of the context behind the conversation but they're still happy regardless to see you smile. 

Dunk raises his brows when he sees your gaze travel behind him to the Hanks. He laughs. Then leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “You like them.”

You push him away, your face taking on a red hue while he laughs all the while. 

The teams line up to thank each other for the game. You notice that Mike is conveniently missing. The teams step into lines to shake hands. You're in the back of the line, you're about to walk away when the last person on the other team grabs your hand and gently pulls you back to him. 

You nearly trip but he catches you with a quiet apology. The other Hanks quickly turn around, ready to intervene when he begins speaking,“I just wanted to say sorry about our mate earlier, he really isn't usually like this. After a few scoldings he usually shuts the fuck up but he got dumped by his girlfriend yesterday. Not an excuse, I know. But it's a reason at least.”

You look up at him, almost shocked but your expression slowly softens into something more sympathetic. “Don't apologize, it wasn't your fault.” You state.

“But I'm the team captain, I should be able to control my team when they're acting out.” The man frowns, his gaze lowering. You feel sorry for him.

You lean in and give him a chase kiss to his cheek. It was something your mother did whenever you were sad or she wanted to thank someone, you found yourself doing it too, to close friends and family. You didn't mean to do it to a stranger but it still made its point anyway. 

The man lifts his gaze, his face red and his hand pressing lightly where you had kissed him. At least he wasn't upset anymore. What you don't hear is the Hank's letting out a collected gasp. 

“Don't be so hard on yourself. We still had fun and it isn't right to put all the blame on yourself. You can only control what you do. That's what you're accountable for, not for what others do.” You explain with a soft smile.

The man gulps once before nodding his head. “You're right. Thank you.” He sighs, “It was a great scrimmage, I hope to play you guys again and in an actual game.” 

He pulls you into an unexpected hug but you firmly return it before he pulls away and walks off.

When you turn back to the Hank's, you find them all staring at you like a fish out of water. 

“What?” You ask, almost worried.

“Are cheek kisses not just for us??” Hank 3 gasps.

“Do you want it to be??” You ask back, your own cheeks turning red. 

They shut their mouths at that question, some even turning away but Hank 4 just scoffs. 

“Yeah!” He explains before quickly slapping a hand over his own mouth. 

Hank 2 turns as everyone's faces turn an equal shade of red, he lightly slaps Hank 4 on the back of his head. 

Maybe it's the leftover adrenaline from the game but you do a small gulp before speaking. 

“Would you like one… now?” You ask quietly. You'd kissed them before when they dropped you off at your dorm. It's just the cheek and you'd already done it that one time so it shouldn't be too weird. It's just praising them for winning the game. Yeah. That's it. 

They eagerly nod their heads. Their faces are still red. 

One by one, they slowly step in front of you before each receiving a soft kiss to the cheek. Hank 2 even lets out a small whimper when you make contact with him, which the other Hanks softly teases him for. 

Hank 3 leans his head back blissfully like he just won a medal. “Wow… two kisses to the cheek.” He breathily laughs, “One more and I think we should earn a kiss on the lips.” 

You turn your head away, laughing away the heat crawling up your neck. “if we win an actual match.” You turn on your foot and begin walking towards the locker room but the lack of footsteps behind you stops you in your tracks. You turn back around.

“If we win an actual match… then what?” Hank 5 asks. They're all looking at you expectantly. 

“Then you get another kiss on the cheek?” You clarify with a raised brow. “W-why… is that weird?” You clasp your hands behind your back with a frown. “I'm sorry.” 

“No! No.” Hank 2 clears his throat, “we just thought… you meant…” he clears his throat again, “that we'd get an…” 

A loud, booming, voice calls for you guys from the locker room entry. “The hell are you guys doing? Get changed before the bus gets here, the baseball team is leaving with us too!” Coach Every glares at you six. Assuming you guys are goofing out with the look on all your faces.

“Sorry coach!” Hank 1 apologizes before gently ushering you all on your way, “let's just continue this later.” 

“Let's not.” Hank 2 is covering his face with his hands. Trying to hide his embarrassment. 

You walk into the locker room to find the other team already pretty much dressed. At least on their way to being. You're about to start looking for your bag when someone harshly shoulder checks you. You stumble back into Hank 1’s chest who quickly grabs you to steady you. His grip is tight. Almost hurting in a way like he’s using you to ground himself to keep from doing anything rash. 

“Dude! Not cool!” Hank 1 sneers at Mike. 

Mike just keeps walking. His brows are furrowed and he got the barest satisfaction from purposely bumping into you. 

Hank 3 is ready to walk after him, already stepping toward him when Hank 2 grabs 3 by the back of his jersey. Yanking him back with a yelp. 

He only stopped Hank 3 because there’s cameras near the entrance of the locker room where they’re currently standing. If they got into a fight, right here, all Mike needs to do is cry wolf and a lawsuit would be easy against Redbowl. 

But best believe if this were anywhere else with less eyes, Hank 2 would be stepping in until Hank 3 got at least a few punches in. All while wearing a cruel grin.

Mike storms off who knows where. A few of his teammates leaving as well give you quiet apologies. 

Hank 5 turns to you, patting you down like fell to the ground or something. “Are you ok, homie? That wasn't cool at all.” 

“I just wanna lay my hand on him, yo!” Hank 4 looks as though he's about to pull his hair out. 

You let out the faintest laugh. Truthfully, it didn't really hurt. It surprised you more than anything. Sure it was super annoying but you couldn't seem to dwell on it seeing how much the Hanks cared. You just smiled. 

“It's ok- I'm ok. I promise, let's just get dressed before coach scolds us.” You turn to Hank 1 and 5 before lightly patting them on the shoulder to comfort them. Even after comforting them though, they don't want to leave you alone. They look like they're trying to create a formation around you to keep anyone else on the other team from getting any closer. It isn't until you step into one of the stalls to get dressed into your casual clothes that they finally back off. 

You hear someone slam into the lockers and a yelp from somewhere outside the stall. “Dude- if you can't balance on one foot then don't hope into your shorts!” Various snickers follow after. 

You stepped outside into the still blazing heat. The sun wasn't setting yet but it had fallen enough to cast long shadows on the ground. Enough shadows for you and the Hank's to hide under till the bus came. 

The baseball team, along with Dunk, were already outside talking and complaining about how hot it was. Some standing and some sitting on the concrete. None of them however, were leaning against the wall. You can tell from the wet paint on some of their backs that they learned from their mistakes already of leaning against the freshly painted outer walls. 

You and Dunk talked for awhile while your two teams had familiar conversations. The bus driver was the same man as before. He was surprised to see the amount of people had had to pick up tripled. 

He let's out a low whistle, “full house, huh?” 

Coach Every praises you and the Hank's before sending you off and taking his own car home for the day. You were all permitted to end early and do whatever you'd like as soon as you got back to campus. 

You boarded the bus. 

Of course the Hank's followed you to the back so you could make room for the baseball team. Dunk was also right behind you. 

He made himself comfortable in the seat right next to you. You welcomed it, of course. You were best friends afterall. You pressed against him to continue your conversation while the Hank's took the seats around you. They were more spread out than this morning but still close enough that they could still speak to one another without raising their voices.

“So where's the cutie now?” Asks Dunk.

“he’s at my dorm right now…” you let out a soft laugh. He himself looks a bit surprised.

“Alone??” 

“No! With my roommate!” You clarify. 

“Ahh… but wasn't your roommate the dorm advisor?” 

The Hank's all suddenly chime in, “you have a roommate?!” 

You laugh again. “I do! And yes, he's the dorm advisor but he told me he'd let it slide as long as I found someone to take the puppy in quickly…”

Hank 1’s brows furrow upward in adortion. “So it's a puppy?” He mutters mostly to himself in confirmation. 

“How did we not see him when we dropped you off?” Hank 2 is seated behind you. 

“That night he stayed over at a friends house.” Thankfully… 

____

There was over an hour left until the bus gets to campus and you were starting to nod off… your body felt wracked and bruised from dives and getting hit by the ball multiple times. 

Dunk gently offered his shoulder which you accepted. Due to how tired you were, you didn't seem to catch onto what he was planning. 

You were about to pass out on his shoulder when he gently shook you. “I'm gonna go grab something from my bag, is that all right? I'll be right back.” 

After nodding your head, he quickly steps away. 

Moments later, you feel a weight in the spot beside you. Exausted, you immediately rest your head against the warm shoulder but it feels different. Equally swole but it was a different shirt and height. 

With your head still on their shoulder, you tilt your chin up to see who it is. 

Hank 2. 

He looks far too nervous and his face is too flushed. He's looking down at you with a pout. 

“D-dunk told me t… I-” he shakes his head, like he's trying to will away all the other thoughts that are keeping him from focusing on what to say. “Is this ok?” Is all he asks in the end. 

You nod you head again. Too tired to even think of any reason to say no. Not that you wanted to say no.

“O-ok.” His voice lowers to a whisper, “g-good night then…”