Chapter Nineteen

Hank

Now

Something had been up with Finn since they’d gotten back from the diner. Instead of coming back to the shop with him and Colton, he’d excused himself, saying he was tired, and gone back to the cabin. It was early evening now, and he hadn’t even come out for dinner. Usually, he’d hang around the kitchen while Hank was cooking, asking about his day, talking about yet another bird he’d encountered on a walk in the woods. It had become something Hank looked forward to, often catching himself glancing at the wall clock in the shop when the light grew dimmer outside and late afternoon bled into early evening. Some days it would feel like an itch he couldn’t scratch, a subtle unrest beneath his skin—the urge to get back home and listen to Finn’s voice as he recounted his day, hands gesturing wildly, golden hair flopping all over the place.

Often, the moments he’d shared with Eugene in that very same space would blend with Finn’s vivid depictions, his brown eyes gaining a yellowish hue from excitement, and Hank would have to excuse himself, making up some random reason for leaving the kitchen so abruptly. He already dreaded the end of winter, knowing it would be hard going back to being on his own again when Finn left. Since Eugene had died, he’d convinced himself that he was better off on his own, but being around Finn reminded him that man was not a solitary creature. It was not in his nature.

So, the fact Finn hadn’t joined him for dinner worried him. Hank had knocked on the door a few times, but since he’d gotten no reply, he assumed Finn was sleeping. Perhaps it’d been too much for him today. With helping at the clinic and then being dragged along to the diner, dealing with Tilly’s Nebraskan version of the Spanish Inquisition.

Hank couldn’t exactly say why it had surprised him so much to learn that Finn was a nurse. An ER nurse even. Perhaps because, up until now, he hadn’t really considered Finn as someone with a profession. It was stupid, really, but the way the younger man had just turned up one day out of the blue had given him this air of mystery. Like he had no past, almost. As if he existed in this time and place only. Yeah, it was stupid. He had a sister, obviously, and parents, so of course he had a past. A life and a profession.

When the front door suddenly sounded, he realized that he’d been sitting in the dark in the kitchen for some time now, his half-empty plate in front of him. He’d had no real appetite, suddenly used to eating with Finn, shooting the shit at the small kitchen table, Finn’s voice dipping into a soft chuckle when Hank said something funny. Mostly unintentionally, of course. Just random stuff.

As he got up, his knees protested over having to work again. He took a few steps towards the counter and watched Finn from the kitchen window. With an agitated air around him, he was pacing back and forth in the driveway like some restless wolf, staring at the dark sky at short intervals, running his hands through his unruly hair, tugging exasperatedly at the longish strands.

In the end, it became too much to witness, and Hank wondered if Finn was possessed or something. He pulled on his coat and went outside, observing Finn from the porch, quietly at first. When he didn’t seem to notice Hank, he cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna catch your death out here,” he hollered, rubbing his hands together, as the evening air had a bite to it.

“What?” Finn looked up, a spooked look in his eyes.

“What the heck are you doin’ out here anyway, pacing around like some crazed animal? It ain’t even a full moon yet. Two days left.”

“Aren’t I allowed to get some fresh air?” Finn’s eyes were nearly black, his face twisted in… anger? Yes, he looked angry. What the heck was he angry about? Hank did a quick rundown of the day, but didn’t recall having said or done anything to piss Finn off.

“Sure, you are,” he sighed. “But there’s a fine line between enjoying the outdoors and behaving like an idiot.” Why on earth he felt like arguing all of a sudden was a mystery to him, but Hank sensed frustration building over this stupid kid, who wasn’t really a kid, but clearly a man. Very much a man.

Finn came to a stop, mumbling something to himself, then shaking his head. Taking a few steps towards Hank, he lingered in the driveway, the moon lighting him up from behind, bathing him in a translucent glow. Tilting his head, he looked up at Hank on the top step. There was a desperation in his eyes that immediately made Hank deflate, replacing the brewing annoyance with a softness.

“What’s wrong?” Hank offered.

Finn sighed, his exhale outdrawn, white air curling from his lips. Taking a few steps up the creaking wooden stairs, he came to a stop just below Hank.

“I feel like such an idiot,” he spat, avoiding eye contact, his hands buried in his pants pockets.

“Why?” His entire posture screamed guardedness. Something Hank hadn’t seen in Finn since the day when he’d threatened Hank with the bedside lamp. Since then, Finn had acted with an almost childlike openness around him, brown eyes filled with trust, sometimes giving him an appearance of being younger than he was.

“Because… Because here I am, staying in your house, eating your food, sleeping in that comfortable fucking bed. And you , Hank, you just…” His words came out in pants, puffs of white air shooting at Hank like small angry bullets before they dissolved into nothing. It was strange to observe how Finn’s voice went from an angry hiss at first to transform into a heartbreakingly quiet whisper.

“I what now?” Hank had no idea where this was heading, but he felt real regret pouring off the guy, and it didn’t take a genius to see that something was up.

“You cook for me and take care of me. You let me stay in your home, no questions asked. You’re this…” He paused, looking almost pained speaking the next part. “You’re the closest to a friend I’ve had in a long time. You’re kind and considerate and you just let me be… let me be how I want to be.” He shook his head again, a mumbled “fuck” slipping from his lips. The kid had a thing with cursing, that was for sure; fuck was a frequent word in his vocabulary. Good thing Hank didn’t care about things like that. Never had.

“And that ain’t a good thing?” Hank half-chuckled. “You want me to be more of an asshole? Is that it? You want me to treat you like you haven’t become a friend to me too? Because you have.” It wasn’t until he spoke the words that he realized they were true. Finn had become his friend. Rubbing absentmindedly at his chest, Hank’s voice softened. “Now, what’s goin’ on, Finn the Hun?” he teased carefully. He was met by a pair of wary eyes, a wet sheen to them, Finn’s bottom lip quivering.

“I saw his photos at the diner. Eugene’s,” he whispered, a small sound of regret clinging to that beloved name. Eugene.

“I see.” Hank nodded in understanding. It was bound to happen, eventually. It wasn’t exactly like there weren’t small traces of Eugene around town. If he recalled correctly, Henry also had a couple of Eugene’s photos displayed in his waiting room. “I assume Tilly filled you in on my tale of woe, then?”

“Hank…”

“What now? It’s true. I had a partner. Eugene. He was everything I ever wanted in life and then he died. I really don’t see what that has to do with you and me.” Goddamnit. You and me . “It doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything, Hank!” Finn yelled, his hands flying from his pockets like some Wild Bill Hickok in a gunfight, gesturing madly at Hank. Before he could ask why, Finn took the last step to the porch and pushed past him. Storming into the cabin, he headed for the guest bedroom, Hank following him at a pace that made his knees scream, what the hell are you doin’, old man?. Reaching the bedroom, Finn grabbed his worn backpack from the corner next to the rocking chair. Frantically stuffing a few belongings into it, he checked the rest of the room, eyes bright with agitation behind the black frames.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Hank panted after him, his hips now reminding him too that he wasn’t used to such rushed movements.

“I’m leaving. I shouldn’t have stayed this long, anyway. You don’t need a stray like me hanging around.” His voice shook as he furiously swiped a few strands of wayward locks away from his glasses.

“You can’t leave at this hour. It’s pitch black, freezing cold. Where’re you gonna go? You haven’t even eaten yet, Finn.” He was feeling real panic building, the prospect of Finn being alone out there in the dark, cold and hungry, unbearable. His chest tightened; his next breath stuck in his lungs. Placing himself in the doorway, making himself as tall and as broad as he could, he tentatively placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder.

“Please, get out of my way, Hank,” Finn’s voice shivered, his eyelashes fluttering, those damn moths dancing despairingly in front of Hank as if they were getting ready to take off and flee too.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Hank…”

“I don’t want you to go,” he repeated, realizing those words held more truth in them than anything had in a long time.

“Why not? I’m just a burden on you, anyway.”

“I like havin’ you around…” Hank squeezed his hand tighter around Finn’s muscular shoulder, feeling him shake beneath him. “Besides, a burden implies that something is too heavy to bear. You’re not. Please stay.”

“I can’t.” Finn tipped his chin defiantly. “Look, I’m sorry, okay, but I can’t.” Finn broke their eye contact, his shoulder sagging under Hank’s touch.

“Because of him? Because of Eugene? I already told ya. It doesn’t change anything.” Hank swallowed. Please don’t let it change anything. I don’t want to go back to how things were. Finn might be the one who would be out there in the cold, but Hank was afraid that he would be the one who would freeze without him. I’ll freeze without you, Finn.

“But it does. It does,” Finn murmured, shaking his head, his glasses hidden behind a curtain of hair.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t be around you anymore, Hank. Not when…”

“When what?”

“When you’re just like me. When we’re the same. I didn’t realize that we were the same.” Finn looked back up, his gaze indecipherable. “If I had, I wouldn’t have stayed.” Hank’s mind tried to wrap itself around what Finn was saying. It sure sounded like his mother tongue, but the words were foreign, cryptic.

“Kid, you’re making zero sense here. I don’t see…”

“BECAUSE I LOST EVERYTHING TOO, OKAY? Okay? I fucking lost everything, too, and while it’s hard to forget even on the best of days, then it’s a whole lot easier when I’m on my own! Okay?” His voice tore through the small bedroom, Finn’s entire body shaking, his mouth twisted in a desperate grimace. Fear. Pure, unfiltered fear. Hank automatically took a step back in awe at Finn’s brutal honesty, but he didn’t release the firm grip on his shoulder. Instead, he squeezed it even harder.

“Nothing’s ever easier on your own,” he spoke quietly, reaching for Finn’s backpack, disentangling it from his death grip. “If it was easier bein’ on our own, then why did God make us the way we are?”

“Like what?” Finn panted, the moths starting to quiet down some, the tears clinging to their wings. Hank hadn’t realized that Finn was crying.

“Starved. For the company of others.”

“Not all people are. Some are reclusive. Prefer to be alone,” Finn countered, a stubbornness returning to his posture, that defiant tilt of the chin that Hank had come to love so much.

“I know.” Hank placed the backpack on the hardwood floor with a small thump . “But man wasn’t born that way. Life made him into a recluse. It’s not in his nature, though. From the minute it’s born, the small child is screamin’ from the top of its lungs.”

“So?” Finn pursed his lips, and if it weren’t for the serious look in his eyes, the pout would’ve looked adorable. In a way, it still did. Yeah, defiance looked damn adorable on the kid.

“It’s screamin’ for its tribe. Its kin. It’s the most desperate sound you’ll ever hear. More desperate than the cry from hunger or from pain. Even from insanity. It’s the call of nothin’ but pure desperation. It’s the ‘ Where are you ?’ the ‘ Please, hold me. Don’t leave me alone. ’ ”

“I… I…”

“It’s all part of His master plan, dontcha see?” Finn looked up, a fierceness in his eyes, that small spark of honey-colored fire back amidst the muddy brown.

“I don’t believe in God!” he spat.

“Well, neither did I until He took Eugene away from me. As long as He stayed outta my business, He could do whatever the hell He wanted. But when He took him away from me—yeah, let’s just say, there’s a debt that must be settled one day.” A small chuckle burst from Finn’s lips.

“Jesus, Hank. And you call me the Hun. You’re the fucking scary one around here. Hank the Motherfucking Hun! Sounds better anyway…” He did look kind of awestruck as he stood there, looking at Hank, liquid fire dancing in his golden gaze.

“I know.” Hank released his shoulder, crossing his arms in front of his chest, tipping his chin challengingly. “That’s why you might as well stay.” He raised a bushy eyebrow at the younger man. “ Willingly , that is.” A loud huff escaped Finn’s lips, a spark of half-hearted rebellion blooming in his eyes. Then, he seemed to have a change of heart and shrugged, the air of leftover agitation around him dissipating.

“Sorry about freaking out like that…” He worried his bottom lip, white teeth glistening in the sparse light.

“It’s okay. We all lose our heads from time to time. No harm done, kid. No broken lamps.” Hank winked. “I guess if you wanna freak out, Nebraska is as good a place as any. Neighbors are few and far away.” Finn nodded.

“I’m sorry about Eugene, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hank nodded. “Me too, kid. Now, enough of this. Almost feels like we’re in one of them daytime soap operas. What’re they called now? Days of Our Lives or some shit like that.”

“How do you kno—” Finn looked up, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Let’s eat.” That crappy show was all he’d watched in those bleak months following Eugene’s death. It was the only thing he’d been able to stomach. The mindless repetitiveness of the excessive drama. The ridiculous expressions on the faces of the mediocre actors. Nothing happened on that show. You could miss three episodes because you were howling out in the woods, cursing Him, and when you turned it back on, Marlena was still possessed by the devil and John Black was still suffering from amnesia. If time was standing still in Salem, why couldn’t it just stand still in Hayley’s too?

“ Like sands through the hourglass…” Finn crooned. Shit. Of course, he knew that goddamn show. “So are the days of our lives…” He smirked.

“Shut it, you pest. Let’s eat. I made your favorite.”

“What? How do you know my favorite?” Finn scrunched his nose, his upper lip curling in surprise.

“A free meal? I thought that was your favorite. Was I wrong?” Hank smirked back. Touché.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Finn pushed lightly at his shoulder, a laugh leaving his mouth.

“It’s true, ain’t it?” Hank challenged, his own low chuckle now intermingling with Finn’s lofty laughter.

“Hank?” Finn’s face sobered, a shadow moving across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No worries,” Hank said, noticing the awkwardness in his voice. Why did this kid continue to thank him?

“No, I mean it.” Finn tilted his head, his eyes solemn as he took a step towards Hank, their chests almost touching, just a small space between them. “Thank you. Truly.” Then he closed the small gap, leaning in against Hank, resting his heavy head on his shoulder. Sucking in a breath, Hank froze. The scent of frost and faint sweat wafted towards him, tickling his nostrils, the contrast between sweet and tart nearly unbearable, reminding him eerily of him . Instinctively, he was about to take a step back when Finn’s arms snaked around him, tentatively at first, until they met at the bottom of Hank’s spine, locking him securely in place.

Confusion washed over him like a massive wave and if Finn hadn’t been holding on to him so fiercely, he surely would’ve stumbled to the floor, swept away into a spiral of memories. And new sensations, too. Because as familiar as the embrace felt, there was also something new and fresh about it. Finn felt different as he leaned against him. The soft thump, thump, thump of his heart sounded different, too, as it beat against Hank’s own. And although slightly similar at first, Hank realized that he did smell different, as he buried his face against the crook of Hank’s neck. Where Eugene had had this underlying scent of innocence, no matter how old he got, there was nothing innocent about the way Finn felt or smelled. Instead, he smelled like something that could easily turn dangerously addictive.

Unsure if he should hug Finn back, Hank just stood there a while, but when Finn made no attempt at releasing him from his iron grip, he wrapped his own arms loosely around his narrow waist. The moment he felt the warmth of the other man seeping through the worn flannel of his shirt, a deep sigh broke through the silence. At first, he thought that it’d been Finn, eliciting that strangled sigh of… relief, but when the aftertaste hit his tongue, he realized his own body was the origin of that sigh.

“Thank you, Hank,” Finn repeated against his neck, his featherlight breath stirring feelings inside Hank that were borderline inappropriate. Placing his hands against Finn’s obliques, he carefully pushed him away, and Finn reluctantly disentangling himself from Hank’s solid form.

“Sorry,” he sniffed, an apologetic smile tugging at the right corner of his mouth, that galaxy of freckles threatening to spin Hank out of control and suck him into a black hole.

Clearing his throat, he managed to rasp, “Yeah, you’re good, kid.”

“Why do you always call me kid ?” Finn frowned.

“That’s what you are, aren’t you?” Yes, don’t forget that , Hank. He’s a kid.

“I just turned thirty-six in October,” Finn countered, the pout returning, and Hank wanted to lick it away or, even better yet, suck it into his mouth and just devour it and swallow it up. Goddamnit.

“Like I said, a kid,” Hank spoke, not sure who he was trying to convince at this point. Objectively speaking, Finn wasn’t a kid, of course. He was a man. No doubt about it. But compared to Hank’s almost sixty, he was a kid.

“How old are you then?” Finn challenged, that defiant glimmer back in his eyes.

“Fifty-nine.” And Hank groaned when Finn’s response was a cheeky whistle. “What?” The word came out harsher than he’d intended, but Finn didn’t seem to notice, just smiling playfully.

“Nothin’. It’s just…” He bit his bottom lip, a coy smile battling to spread to the rest of his face. Then he seemed to come to some sort of decision. “You look pretty fucking good, Hank. For an older guy.” he winked. That goddamn kid. He actually winked at him.

“Hey!” Hank warned, raising an eyebrow. “You behave, now.”

“Or what?” Finn pursed his lips, that golden spark lingering in his eyes, kick-starting Hank’s libido like gasoline poured on a dying flame. “You’re gonna spank me?” As soon as the words had left his lips, Finn looked stunned, a deep crimson spreading like a wild forest fire across his cheeks and further down his neck. Feeling unsteady at the eruption of volcanic proportions that the small word had caused inside of him, Hank rested his hand on the doorframe. Spank. He knew what the word meant, of course. Heck, both he and Walter had been spanked on occasion when they were kids. But Hank had never spanked anyone in his goddamn life and now his fingers tingled impatiently to do exactly just that. You’re gonna spank me? Finn looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and hide between the floorboards.

“I’m…” he murmured, eyes looking wildly at Hank. Jesus. This weird-ass day was just continuing, wasn’t it? He felt like he was in the goddamn twilight zone or something. “Hank, I didn’t…”

“Just make yourself useful and set the table,” he grunted, turning towards the kitchen, his voice rougher than he’d intended. He nearly added the word kid at the end, but somehow that felt wrong now.

“Yes, sir ,” Finn squeaked. Shit. You’re in deep shit here, Hank. Yeah, don’t I know it? Don’t I know it.