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It’s the holiday season.
But it’s not just any holiday season…
It’s Connor's first holiday season with his partner and his partner’s son.
This wouldn’t have been such a big deal if not for the fact that Connor really likes Hank. Loves, actually, and Connor thinks, if things continue to go well, they might even decide to move in together, maybe talk about rings eventually—he forces his mind to focus on his current situation. Daydreaming isn’t going to benefit him.
Not right now.
Connor, undeterred, is currently enduring a nightmare.
It’s Black Friday at 4:50 am when Connor would generally avoid the sensory overload of in-store shopping by ordering online. But not this year. He’s braving the chaos and potential consequences to get a toy that Cole had said he needed . He’s only 6, and these massive car towers are apparently the best thing ever. Connor is determined to make this holiday special for Cole.
The unfortunate part is that every kid seems to agree. From October to today, Connor has been camping the listing on multiple websites for a restocking notification. Only to be disappointed when it changed to in-store only… and was featured on the front page of the Target Black Friday sale.
Connor resists the intense urge to rock or flap around, entirely overwhelmed by the loud crowd surrounding him and the lack of personal space.
At least he’s at the front of the line.
He has the glass doors right in front of him, so bright that it’s damn near blinding when he looks into the dark parking lot. Quite a lot of people have gathered excitedly, talking about what they’re buying and bitching about the wait and cold.
Try being out here for the last two hours , he thinks bitterly, but he keeps his passive-aggressive comments to himself. Connor has been letting his annoyance and petty behavior build up all morning so he can let loose the moment those doors open. He’s heard plenty of horror stories about Black Friday sales gone awry to know the moment that door clicks open, he better start running, or he’ll be pulverized.
He’s not above using some force, but he’s still a detective, so he’ll need to preserve his dignity lest Hank wakes up to find Connor in holding at work
Only five minutes are left, and Connor can see the police and employees inside making last-minute preparations for the event. His anticipation is palpable.
Connor puts his cupped hands to his face and puffs air onto them that he doesn’t feel anymore. His heart rate is through the roof, and adrenaline is pumping.
Who would have thought he'd be here after meeting Hank last January, buying a toy for Cole? It's a moment of reflection he didn’t expect.
For the last few years before meeting Hank, Connor has started to accept his fate as a bachelor for the rest of his life. Then, out of nowhere, he got transferred from the Highland Park Police Department to Detroit to fill in a gap from retirement. He didn’t mind, the DPD was nicer anyway and a lot bigger; not to mention Connor’s work was just a drop in the bucket.
He’d been used to working in the drug trafficking department, but they already had a whole crew, so he joined the homicide unit, which was exciting. That was where he met Hank.
Actually, Hank was his work partner before they even met. They didn’t exactly have an ideal relationship, and Connor still isn’t sure how they went from yelling at each other to talking shit in Connor’s car during lunch.
Yet, they’re here now, and they’ve been dating since March, even if his family had been cautious at first given their 21-year age gap. Hank is great at warming people up to his brass mannerisms and terrible dad jokes. Even if Hank's ex-wife hates Connor and makes a fuss about him spending time with their son.
Hank is fine and great—it’s Cole who he always feels nervous around. He’s a great kid, intelligent, funny and outspoken. However, Connor has minimal experience with kids under the age of 16. Hank constantly reassures him that it’s fine and Cole likes him, but Connor still doesn’t know how to be a caregiver. He’s learning about it, but it’s not a natural process for him.
Even though Hank tells(lies) to him and says he’s doing great.
Cole still gets away with a lot when Hank isn’t there, but that’s their secret.
Connor grunts when the crowd surges forward, just barely putting his arms out to stop from slamming into the glass. This is going to suck.
It’s about that moment. As it gets louder and bustling with enthusiasm, he sees the workers starting to unlock the doors.
Connor steels himself, jaw clenched, shoulders squared, and fights, digging his heels in to assert dominance.
Here goes nothing.
The doors open, and the crowd lurches forward. The cops and employees are telling people to be careful and not forcefully hurt each other. It doesn’t stop a few people from taking off into a run. Connor curses under his breath and, knowing where to go, he jogs towards the back of the store where the toys are. He and several others. Luckily, all those years of taking track are starting to come in handy, and he easily paces himself and stays ahead.
Or, he thinks, but when he gets there, a few people are shoving toys in their carts, Connor didn’t even get a cart—luckily, he believes the toy shouldn’t be too hard to carry. Hopefully.
It takes Connor longer than he'd like to find the toy. It’s in the middle of a main aisle, a whole bunch of them organized on a pallet. Or, they were. People are grabbing them like they're the last lifeboats on a sinking ship. Connor pushes his way through the crowd, a situation he really dislikes. “No!” He shouts as he grabs the last one like it’s a lifeline in a storm. He wraps his arms and legs around the box, a bit dramatically perhaps, but he's not letting go.
A woman—tries to yank it away from him. “Hey—!” Connor shouts, yanking it back hard enough she jerks forward.
Connor cannot believe his life has been reduced to this primitive level. He’s tug-warring with a suburban mom over a Hot Wheels tower in a target . What a fall from grace.
Honest to god, he didn’t think someone would be rude enough to try and swipe something from him while he was holding it, obviously he underestimated the pettiness of people.
“My son needs this!” She screams and starts rattling off reasons she deserves the damn thing.
“What’s wrong with you?” Connor says. “I got this first, so forget it!”
It’s at that point he makes one final yank, and it’s hard enough she tumbles towards him. He was expecting more resistance, and they both fall down.
This would be perfectly fine if it wasn’t for the fact that there are enough people in the area to be a whole concert, and Connor goes from trying to get a toy to trying not to be trampled and killed. “Shit,” he curses, making a good attempt to protect his face as he’s stepped on. His heart is racing as he scrambles to stand. He gets kicked a few times and stepped on hard enough that he ends up breathless; luckily, he gets to his feet and isn’t seriously injured.
But the toy is gone, the woman is gone.
Connor stares at the empty pallet in defeat, his heart dropping. His ego is bruised, and he looks at the empty shelves. He loads up his app and checks a few other stores, but their doors opened way before here. All of them have estimated restocking of the toy way after the holiday.
He’ll just have to get something else.
Connor slumps and scours the shelves for something he thinks Cole would like. He ends up grabbing a little kid's “tool set” with a drill that makes sound effects. It’s not great, not even in the realm of asks, but he hopes it somehow lands.
It’s just salt in the wound when he waits two hours to check out.
Being adults means their work schedules get chaotic, appointments and other obligations take priority over seeing each other sometimes, and this is one of those times. Connor hasn’t seen Hank outside of work since Thanksgiving, and it’s starting to feel frustrating by the time they have any plans.
Growing up, Amanda, his mother, had several Christmas trees: a white one, some minis in various locations, and an oversized 8 ft tree she put up in the main living area. It took her a week to get everything ready for guests after Thanksgiving. Connor used to think it was fun listening to music and watching their home transform into a Hallmark movie set. That’s what it felt like.
When he moved out and started living with his brothers, he tried to keep the traditions alive. Decorating, baking, gingerbread houses, and listening to music, but it just didn’t feel the same. It was him doing the majority by himself. Niles is a lawyer who works long hours and doesn’t care much about this type of thing, and Sylas is always overscheduling himself. Connor teased him for being too ambitious and having no time management skills.
Slowly, their traditions changed—now they put up a few boxes of decorations and a mini tree and call it a day. Sometimes, Connor bakes a batch of cookies to take to work, but that’s about as far as it goes.
There’s a whole new flavor to the process with the addition of Hank and Cole in his life. They have unique personalities and traditions, not to mention they match Connor’s excitement for the holiday.
Hank presents Connor with a brand new thing—live Christmas trees.
He’s never been to a Christmas tree farm or cared for one before, but Hank insists it’s all part of the charm.
They have to wait until Cole is with Hank for a week, and they’re off simultaneously, which is difficult. Fowler knows about their relationship, as do the rest of their peers, but there are some general rules. Perhaps the most annoying thing is that they have to hope and pray that no one else requests the same days off because they're in the same department.
Hank has massive seniority in the station, but Connor is near the bottom of the barrel. His PTO bucket had never been at risk of being paid out like this, but here they are.
Finally, they get time to go—it’s on a Thursday, which is a little odd, but that’s fine. Cole is on winter break, Hank is off, and Connor can finally use some of his PTO.
He has no idea what to wear. Hank didn’t tell him much about the farm; they just had hot chocolate and a bus to Chaperone them to and from the field. Connor has been envisioning a Good trek. It’s already snowy, too, so they have to dress for the elements. He’s dressed in a turtleneck, heavy coat, insulated jeans and boots. He also shoves a hat on, one with a fuzzy ball on top—he’s gotten a lot of compliments on it.
He meets Hank at his house and feels such a wave of relief seeing him outside his work attire. Even if the red, green, and gold button-up under his jacket is ridiculous. He shows off the Santa pattern like it’s something to be proud of, and Connor makes eye contact when he says, “That’s great, Hunny.”
He knows Hank can sense the sarcasm.
On the other hand, Cole is dressed normally in waterproof boots, a bright orange jacket, and a Santa hat. He bestows upon Connor an honor that Hank seems offended wasn’t given to him—a cheap light-up necklace with what’s meant to look like Christmas lights.
Connor whispers to Hank as they leave, “I bet it breaks before we even get to the trees.”
Hank snorts a laugh and bets him that it won’t last till they drive there.
They listen to Christmas music in the car, some of which Connor recognizes; in others, he listens to Hank and Cole sing along with a warmth in his chest. Hank laces their fingers together on the center console, and Connor fights a massive grin that threatens his composure.
They’re both bad with words, so they’ve come up with some nonverbal signs to show affection that aren’t just a hug or kiss. If they’re visiting somewhere together and want to leave, they’ll make eye contact and wink, which means let’s get the hell out of here .
Three-hand squeezes mean I love you ; they’d come up with that when Connor expressed needing more reassurance. Hank said he was awful at getting the words out of his rattling brain, and it went from being told I love you a few times a week to multiple times a day.
Like when they’re cruising down the highway holding hands and listening to Cole prattle on about his friends.
There’s a huge barn? Or, a barn-like house surrounded by pines with a large parking lot near it. The crowds are heavy today, given it’s only a few weeks before the holiday. They take some time pacing the aisles to find a parking spot. Hank is bitching about people who get in his way or let their kids run loose in the parking area. Connor mutters his own passive-aggressive response.
But they make it and get their gloves on. Connor fixes Cole’s hat for the hundredth time, and Hank insists one of them hold his hand until they make their way inside. As he’s leading the way and Cole is holding Connor’s hand, he watches the back of his dad’s head with a frown scrunching his tiny face. “How come daddy doesn’t have to wear a hat?”
That’s when Connor realizes Hank is, indeed, not wearing a hat. “Where’s your—“ Hank glances back at him, then has to do it again when Connor forgets how words work and starts adjusting his own cap. “Um, this.”
“Oh. I don’t need one,” Hank says simply with a grin, the gap in his teeth making him look younger. “My long hair will protect my ears.”
Connor knows his face contorts into a look of annoyance. He squints at his boyfriend. “You say this every time we go out. I don’t want to hear you complain about your ears getting so cold they’ll fall off.”
“Your ears can fall off?!” Cole exclaims in horror, eyes wide and flickering between them like he’s about to freak out.
“Yep,” Hank says, like an asshole. “You better keep your hat on, boy. Wouldn’t want to lose your ears.”
Connor can’t roll his eyes any harder.
Cole tugs his hat a little further on his head, though. Connor has started to learn that parenting is sometimes going along with what kids say or think, because it’s easier than trying to explain. That or, in the case of how babies are made or ears falling off, it might benefit from a little white lie. Connor still can’t say he totally agrees, but still.
The building has a fireplace, warm armchairs, and a big countertop desk. They pay the admission fee, get a stamp on their hands like it’s a nightclub, and then Hank brandishes the very sharp saw. Cole is starting to get excited, which means he keeps trying to free his hand so he can play.
Connor obeys what Hank said that they all stick together.
They board the large red bus with excited patrons. The thing is old and squeaky, but it must get the job done. They settle into the row of seats with Cole in the middle and Connor by the window. He wipes his gloved hand on the dirty window to clear away dust. It’s still fairly splotched, but he can see the perfectly white snow covering the ground and miniature Christmas trees lining the field ahead.
Cole is bouncing in his seat excitedly; he leans over Connor to look out the window. “Can I pick the tree, Daddy? Please? I promise I’ll pick a good one.”
“Hey now,” Hank slings an arm over the back of the seats to brush his fingertips over the nape of Connor’s neck. He gets instant goosebumps. “I think we should let Connor pick; it’s his first time out here.”
“It’s okay,” Connor says a little too quickly, anxiety making a ball in his chest. He straightens up. “I don’t know what would make a good tree anyway.”
Hank snorts and shakes his head in disbelief. Connor knows that tone—Hank might be pretty oblivious about himself, but he’s exceptionally observant of the people around him. He can sense Connor’s apprehension and isn’t going to let the anxiety win this round. “It’s not hard. Pick one I can fit in the house, and we’ll be good.”
Cole looks up at Connor and leans over to whisper in his ear. “I’ll help you; I’m the best at picking trees.”
Connor isn’t entirely confident in that statement but can’t argue, so he simply eyes his boyfriend uncertainly. Hank catches him staring, grins, and winks.
The ride isn’t too bad, but it’s quite bumpy, and even though Connor isn’t sensitive to motion sickness, it gets him a little off balance and nauseous. Luckily, it’s only 10 minutes, and they’re dropped off at different locations. Hank, of course, waits until they’re deep enough in the farm to see fields for miles. Cole bounces around and barely adheres to the order to politely get off the bus. Hank laughs while watching him and puts a hand on the small of Connor’s back as they go down the aisle and step off. It’s cold, cold enough. Connor regrets not bringing a scarf.
It’s snowing big flakes, and…even this far out, many trees are still left. At least they won’t be short on pickings. Cole is giggling as he kicks some piles of snow. He grabs Hank's hand and starts tugging him into the field. Connor follows after them, a smile tugging at his lips.
Nobody can say Hank isn’t a wonderful parent.
The snow is deep enough. Connor is glad he wore boots; the flakes are annoying enough that he can’t imagine wearing his glasses in weather like this. There are a bunch of trees that are way too big for Hank’s house, and then they start seeing some shorter ones. Cole points out a few, but Hank looks at Connor. He shakes his head, knowing they’d definitely be too ambitious trying to fit it in Hank's living room.
He scans Hank for any sign of what he should pick, but there’s none, so Connor makes his own decision. Once they come across a smaller tree that’s not so full but will hopefully not be massive, he pretends to inspect it. He checks its trunk and the fullness of its branches and looks at Hank, questioning, quirking an eyebrow.
Hank simply raises his own. “This one?”
“Yes, why?”
“Just checking, winner winner chicken dinner.” Hank grins and looks at Cole. “Whatcha think, Bug?”
“It’s kind of ugly, but I guess it’s fine.”
Hank leans down to see the trunk and mumbles, “Me too, kid.”
Connor chokes on a laugh that bubbles out of him so suddenly that he inhales his saliva like a functional human being. Hank doesn’t pay mind to the coughing above him and grunts as he holds up the branches. Finally, he straightens up. “You alright, baby? Need mouth to mouth?” He makes loud, kissy noises as he inches his face closer exaggeratedly.
“Ew!” Cole exclaims. “Daddy, stop it!”
This doesn’t stop him; in fact, before Connor can stop him, Hank gives him a loud and dramatic kiss on the cheek. Connor hates that he finds it charming; it’s ridiculous. He gently pushes Hank away from him. “Hey, back to cutting,” Connor says.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold the damn thing so it doesn’t kill me.” Connor does as Hank instructs but has to change around four times when Hank complains about one thing or another. Eventually, Hank seems to focus on his task; the only thing you can hear is the saw working and Hank cursing.
A few people send him nasty looks, but Connor simply rolls his eyes. Cole is playing in the snow, throwing it, making snow angels, and finally making a snowball, eyeing the two targets of his chaperones. Connor practically air marshals him to have pity and reign his almighty power onto Hank, who’s doing the dad thing and has his ass hanging out as he’s bent over the tree.
“Connor, for fuck’s sake, can you hold the damn thing? I don’t wanna be crushed alive.” That’s about the moment Cole nails him right in his plumber’s crack, and Hank screams like a little girl. “Jesus Christ, Cole! Holy fuck, it’s in my pants!”
Connor isn’t ordinarily a laughing type, but he’s pretty sure he starts making a good tea kettle impression. He doubles over, clutching his stomach, and clumsily tries to get snow off Hank. It might work better if he wasn’t laughing so hard.
“Goddamnit, quit encouraging him!”
Cole is giggling so hard that his face turns red, and he snorts. “We got you!”
Cutting the tree down takes longer than necessary, but they achieve the desired result. Hank is still bitching even though he’s fighting a grin, and Connor helps him carry the tree so it can be loaded up when the bus comes back around. They wait by the icy road, which is just dirt, and Cole takes Connor’s hand without question. “Can we go ice skating before Christmas?” He asks him with a look of hopeful optimism.
Connor glances at Hank for help, who nods. “Yeah, that would be fun. Have you ever gone ice skating before, Cole?”
“Nah, but Daddy said I had to wait until I was growed up enough. I bet you’re good at it; you’re good at everything.”
Connor’s face gets warmer at the praise, even as he shakes his head. Actually, I’m bad at a lot of things, he thinks. Like socializing, making friends, showing his beloved people how much he cares, or—
“It’s been a while since I tried, so we’ll have to see.” Somehow, his thoughts don’t demean the compliment; Connor still can’t help feeling lighter. Cole thinks that highly of him?
“If you can do that math homework, you’re real smart.” Of course, he remembers when Connor helped him with his work. It wasn’t anything complicated, but Hank was making dinner, so Connor offered to help.
Apparently, his ease spoke of some deep-seated talent for counting to 30.
Connor would have millions of friends if adults were this easy to impress. They board, and Hank leans over to whisper in his ear, “I love you.” He’s not expecting it at all, and any cold flees his body instantly when his temperature skyrockets to 99 million. It’s the last thing Connor was anticipating considering how much of a pain in the ass he’s been.
He’s too caught off guard to even return the gesture.
On the ride back, Cole sits by the window, and Hank grabs his hand, squeezing a whole lot more than 3 times. Connor isn’t sure what’s gotten Hank so affectionate; he’s far from the type to engage in any PDA. Whatever’s gotten into him is wildly uncharacteristic of him.
They check out for the tree and get hot chocolate. Connor keeps it safely out of Cole’s reach as it cools down enough to no longer be chocolate lava. It’s freezing, so it only takes a handful of minutes. Thankfully, considering Cole is whining and trying to swipe it every opportunity he gets. Once it’s safe for human consumption, Connor passes it to him and sips his own. His tongue is burnt, but it’s what he expected.
Hank has the Christmas tree tied to the top of his car comically, and Connor tilts his head, eyeing the thing. “It’s too big,” he says, analyzing the top of Hank’s car compared to the humongous tree and Hank himself. “That’s not going to fit inside.”
“Babe, I’ve been doing this for years; it’ll be fine.”
Connor frowns. “I picked one that’s too big.”
“No, you didn’t.” Hank grabs him by his shoulders. “Quit overthinking, it’ll be fine.”
The tree is too tall.
Its circumference isn’t the problem, but if Hank tries to stand it up, the top scrapes against the ceiling threateningly. If he hadn’t been the one to pick it, Connor might have thought the image of Hank standing with a tree taller than him and scratching his beard was funny.
As it is, he feels terrible about it. Because of him, they won’t have a Christmas tree.
Well, they might because Hank starts chopping the top off. “Daddy, how will we put my tree topper on if you do that?”
“We won’t,” he says plainly, and Cole’s face falls. “But we can put it in your room; you can use it as a nightlight.” The whole scene sounds ridiculous. A Christmas tree chopped off at the top and a tree topper for a nightlight. Connor is embarrassed and mutters an apology as he helps Hank hold it still enough to cut. Sumo is out back, so he doesn’t get into the mess.
Thank god, too, considering by the time Hank is finished bitching and sawing, his face is red and sweaty, and the sheer volume of needles on the ground is obscene. And sawdust. The house looks like a tornado went through it, and the tree is barely short enough to fit. Hank grins in triumph. “There we go. Go get some water, Kiddo. This thing is as thirsty as your old man.” Connor glares when Hank winks. How can he even possibly be thinking about that when they’ve had this exhausting day? Connor has no idea.
He helps Cole get a couple of cups of water and holds them alongside him so they don’t end up on the floor. Hank pours one into the pot for the tree and then downs the other like he’s been in a desert for a month. Hank shoves his hair from his face and admires his handiwork. Connor knows Hank will insist it’s okay to his face, but it’s hard to miss the slight grimace. “Let’s get on the music. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
Decorating is almost like it was at home, with music and laughs, except deep guilt weighs on Connor whenever he sees the ridiculous tree and thinks about giving Cole a lackluster gift. What a combo. Ruin his gift and his tree in the same year.
Great impression.
Hank sweeps, and Sumo watches them as they put ornaments and garland around the…lump of pine.
Connor helps place trinkets tastefully around the house and garland up a wreath outside. Hank remarks that Connor does a better job than him, but Connor shakes his head. Hank has decent decorating taste. It’s just his fashion sense that leaves a lot to be desired.
Connor has to leave shortly before bedtime to get home to see his brothers, and as much as he’ll miss Cole and Hank, he’s glad to get away from the absolute mess of a tree he fucked up.
He just needs to avoid messing anything else up.
Ice skating seemed like a good idea, but the more Connor thinks about it, the less he agrees with that original statement. Hank is always complaining about his old bones, Connor gets back pain from shrimping in his damn desk chair all day, and Cole has never even touched the ice. The chances of someone wiping out and throwing out their back are enough to be threatening. But Hank still schedules them and tells Connor to dress for it.
Unlike normal, they’re going after school and work, so they’ve been out and also at their desks. Connor switches his contacts for his glasses because his eyes feel dry as a desert and joins Hank in the car. They’d carpooled in preparation for their date tonight.
Hank is listening to loud metal music. Connor winces when he opens the door, and sounds of Knights of the Black Death blares into the parking lot.
As Hank drives them out, Connor frowns.
The only times Hank listens to loud death metal is if he’s upset or energetic. Energetic is ruled out, considering he was yawning ten minutes ago. That means something has him upset. Connor lets him stew for a bit, driving way too fast on the highway. He runs through their day but can’t decipher why Hank is stormy.
Unless… “Did I do something?”
Hank scowls and turns down his volume. “Huh?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why the hell would I be mad at you?” Connor opens and closes his mouth several times but can’t think of a good reason. This has been an issue for both of them—assuming things and not articulating them well to each other. At least he asked instead of letting it stir inside.
“Then, what’s wrong?”
Hank’s expression darkens even further at the words, knowing he can’t avoid them. If there’s anything they do for each other, it’s hold each other accountable for their bullshit. It’s something they love and hate about each other. Connor can sense Hank’s frustration and doesn’t understand why it’s suddenly coming out like this. It takes a few minutes listening to the music before Hamk is inclined to speak.
Finally, he sighs and smacks his lips together. “It’s stupid, but I hate having to deal with Jenny so much. She’s got this ridiculous agenda and thinks I have to humor her because of Cole.”
Connor has heard this complaint a million times—Jenny, Hank’s ex-wife, is the bane of Hank’s life. Personally, Connor wishes he could slam dunk her into a dumpster, she’s rude, demanding, and disrespectful, but there’s a limit to what they can do.
Whether they like it or not, she’s Cole’s mother, and if Hank wants to maintain a reasonable relationship with her, he has to humor her. At least, until Cole is 18 and they’ve got more than 10 years before that.
Connor had once asked Hank why he even married her or had a kid with her, and Hank had proceeded to…point out the hypocrisy of the statement. Connor had dated many nasty men and stayed much longer than he should have. That much had become apparent in his early twenties, which was why he hadn’t dated in like 4 years before he met Hank. Arguing he didn’t have a kid with anyone wouldn’t have been wise, so he didn’t.
The point still stood—Hank had put himself in the position to tolerate her bullshit. Usually, Hank didn’t get more than annoyed by her these days, so whatever she said must have gotten under his skin.
“What did she say?” Connor asks, feeling that ball of anxiety growing.
“She thinks she wants to meet you.” This immediately puts the walls up, and Connor can sense the hesitation—Hank knows how he feels about her. He also is very aware of how bad of an idea that would be.
“ Thinks being the keyword,” Connor grumbles, directing his gaze outside to the highway speeding by.
This isn’t the first time she tried pulling this shit on them; the first was when they first started dating, but Hank told her that it wasn’t relevant. He didn’t even know how long they might be together. Then again in autumn, she invited them to Cole’s birthday party, but with Hank’s recommendation, Connor refused. Since then, she’s proven to be a thorn in their side.
Calling Connor names, bitching about him, asking Hank about him. Connor had raised a brow last conversation and said, “Why is she so obsessed with me?”
Hank had actually answered him, but it didn’t matter; she didn’t want anyone else she didn’t know in her son’s life. Connor understood a little more, but he’s never had a child, so what does he know?
“I just wish she’d quit trying to force it. I know she won’t do it, but she tried threatening me with court.”
Connor’s eyes widen, and he whips his head around in shock. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
A heavyweight settles over Connor, he can’t believe she would go that far just to meet him. Hank is right—she won’t actually do it, but the threat is still looming and dark. Especially when meeting Connor wouldn’t solve her problems with him—she’d have complaints anyway. She’s already been pissed learning how old Connor is.
“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, and Hank grunts.
“You didn’t do anything. Now that I’ve been miserable for a while, let’s focus on tonight.”
Connor knows he won’t be able to forget about it, but he nods anyway.
They pick up Cole from Hank’s parents' house. He’s excited, babbling about his day and asking about ice skating. They stop at Hank’s place, and they change. Connor simply goes from slacks to jeans and removes his tie. Hank is wearing a silly Christmas sweater and jeans, and Cole is in a shirt and sweats. They wear their jackets to the rink, and before long, they’re renting skates amongst a full house. There are so many kids and families that Connor feels like they’re in an apocalyptic world and ice skates are toilet paper.
Hank has big ass feet, and Connor snorts a laugh when he has to go back a third time for a bigger size. He’s currently sitting on the nasty carpet that’s worn enough to have lost its pattern in some places, tying Cole’s skates. He tightens the laces and looks up, pausing to push his glasses up his nose. “Feel alright?”
“Uh-huh.” He makes sure the tongue is lying flat and ties the last one.
“So,” he makes eye contact to ensure Cole listens. He’s learned that lesson a dozen times a week. “Don’t just take off and fall onto your bum when you fall, alright?”
“I can do it! I don’t think Daddy can, though.” Hank arrives with his skates, sits down with a groan, and starts trying on this pair.
They go on, which is an improvement. “Don’t hurt yourself, Daddy,” Cole says. “Con said you shouldn’t take off and make sure you fall on your ass.”
Connor cringes and sighs at the synopsis that had absolutely nothing to do with Hank at all. Hank snorts a laugh, then elbows his son with an amused grin. “Told ya not to use that word anymore, kiddo. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
That’s what Connor is afraid of.
Standing is a bigger problem than any of them could have anticipated. The moment Hank tries, he falls backward into his chair, and Cole giggles like a madman at his dad’s suffering. Connor stands with conviction and immediately begins to topple, grabbing Hank’s shoulder to steady himself. “Christ, baby, be careful.”
Hank squeezes his waist, then watches cautiously as Connor stands, more certain this time. Cole stands and walks around with ease—because god, to be a fearless and adaptable kid again.
They haul Hank to his feet, walk in the clunky skates to the rink, and leave their things in an empty seat. Connor volunteers to go first and grips the rink's edge for his life when he does. Somehow, he remembers more than he thought. Cole joins him and almost immediately goes to tumble. Connor grabs him by his hoodie and hilariously saves him. “Mother trucker! It’s slippery!” He’s giggling, and Connor bursts out laughing at the stupid exclamation.
They go over how to fall a few times, and then Hank braves the ice himself. His center of gravity is absolute trash, and he immediately falls on his ass. “You made it two whole steps,” Connor says with a clap, and Hank flips him off.
He sits there, looking clueless until Connor sighs and intentionally falls on his butt and shows them both how to do a fall and a get-up. He makes them practice this sev eral times before they brave anything else. Hank manages to stay upright, but it’s a slow process, Connor is starting to relax, though he’s actually not half bad at it.
Cole is still a six-year-old, so for the most part, they focus on him and make sure he’s safe. Connor really tries to keep a good distance from the other skaters so there’s no risk of injury, it’s a little hard with an overzealous kid, but he tries. He finds he’s actually really enjoying himself more than he thought he would. None of them are by any stretch of the imagination good, but Connor feels he’s at least mediocre.
And that’s good enough at this point.
Hank is awful, but at least he knows to cling to the railing for dear life, so his tumbles are minor, few and far between.
Everything is perfectly fine until Cole goes to fall, and Connor watches him a little too intently, causing someone to collide with him. They both immediately go down, which is fine because they go down reasonably.
Connor realizes before he’s even hit the ice, that he’s the one who fucks up, which is ironic, considering how many times he lectured Hank and Cole. Then, that’s gone from his mind when he comes down hard on his wrist, hard enough he cries out as pain he’s never felt before explodes in his wrist and hand.
He has a decent pain tolerance, so the fact it’s so bad is alarming on its own.
He clutches his wrist to his chest, curling up in pain. His hearing is like it’s underwater, the man getting up and trying to get out of dodge as fast as possible, and suddenly, Hank is more confident in his skating. He’s talking and coming over to him, kneeling as Cole crawls over to him.
It’s a bit of a blur if he’s being honest, but he’s helped off the ice by the medic present, and he’s asked a bunch of questions that Hank mostly answers. Connor thinks that afterward, he will feel affection for Hank, who remembers everything. His date of birth, his allergies, and medications. Not that he has a ton, but Hank knows.
That’s how he ends up in the back of an ambulance and then in an ER with Hank and Cole.
They give him pain medicine that makes him dizzy as hell and tell him he fractured his wrist. Great.
Fucking great, he fell on his wrist, fractured it, and cried in front of his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s son. Connor is admittedly pretty embarrassed, even though Hank keeps reassuring him it’s okay. He just wants to sleep, preferably for a hundred years.
Hank refuses to let him go home alone, meaning that within a few hours, Connor is back at Hank’s house. Cole gets ready for bed while repeatedly checking up on Connor, asking if he needs anything.
It’s touching and helps him feel a little less terrible. Before he goes to bed, Cole hurries out of his room with his favorite plush dog and thrusts it into Connor’s lap, where he’s sitting on Hank’s bed. “I know Mr. Doggy always makes me feel better. You need him more.”
God, he’s going to cry again. Connor hugs Cole one armed, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, his throat constricting. Normally, Connor doesn’t cry, in fact, he’s fairly certain Hank has never seen him cry before tonight. It was only a matter of time before he paid his dues. Hank is emotional and cries a lot, even though he tries to pretend he doesn’t.
Logically, Connor knows he has nothing to be ashamed of, but that’s easier said than done as they say.
Cole goes to bed. Hank talks to him for a while, but it is too low for Connor to make out. He carefully tries to undress, but undoing buttons is a bigger task than his fingers can currently accomplish alone. Using his right hand hurts too damned much, so he wriggles out of his jeans and sits there half-dressed, waiting for Hank to finish up.
By the time they’re reunited, Connor is having a pity party, stuck in his feelings. Cole cried too, scared and worried, and that was his fault. Some Christmas this has been.
They’ve only got a week before the holiday, how can he make up for this?
Hank looks a little ragged, his hair frizzy, and dark circles under his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Because, of course, he doesn’t.
“Need some help?”
Connor sighs loudly, looks down at his shirt, and nods pathetically. Hank starts freeing him from his shirt thoughtfully and grabs some pajamas. It’s freezing, so Connor is glad to bundle up in one of Hank's hoodies and a pair of sweats he left here weeks ago. Hank helps him patiently, then changes himself, neither knowing what to say nor having the energy to breach the topic.
Once they’re both ready for bed, Hank brushes hair from Connor’s forehead. “I scared him pretty badly, didn’t I?” Connor whispers, defeat in his voice like he’s actively fighting more tears.
“You scared me. I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ve never seen you in that much pain, baby.” Connor’s face scrunches up, and he tries to find words to describe how he feels now, to justify his reaction. He can’t locate any.
He just curls up on the bed, and Hank tucks him in before climbing onto his side of the bed. Without a moment of hesitation, he’s right behind Connor. “Cuddles or no cuddles?” He knows by now not to take it personally if Connor doesn’t want to be touched, sometimes it’s just overwhelming for him.
Connor wriggles a little closer. “Cuddles.” Hank happily scoots closer and wraps his arms around him securely. He’s warm and cuddly, his beard tickling Connor’s neck. Connor flips the light off, and they lie silently for some time. His wrist is still throbbing but nowhere near what it was before. Hank’s breath is hot on his skin, and the bed is soft and cozy. He feels better. Mr Dog is shoved to his chest.
“I love you,” Hank whispers tiredly, and Connor’s heart skips a beat. He’s heard it hundreds of times by now, but it always warms his heart and soul.
“I love you, too. How did you remember my allergies and medication?” It’s been on his mind. Hank had been remarkably calm for how scared he probably was. And the gesture was…personal somehow, Connor doesn’t even think his brothers could name his allergies so effortlessly.
“What do you mean? You’ve stayed with me for days. Of course, I remember your meds. You take your allergy pill in the morning, along with your multivitamin, then at night, you take your Prozac because you said it used to make you nauseous.” Connor can’t even begin to explain how his body feels hot and yet light as a feather at the same time. Hearing I love you is one thing, but hearing proof of it…? That’s another thing entirely.
“And my allergies?” He presses his face as it burns, into the pillow even though Hank can’t see him in the dark anyway. Fishing for it seems a little silly, but hearing Hank be so detailed and caring makes his heart feel like it could explode.
“How could I forget? You told me that story where you nearly fucking died from taking penicillin.” Hank doesn’t explain how he recalled the other two, but Connor doesn’t need him to—he knows that Hank remembers because he loves Connor so much. “Why are you so surprised?”
Connor awkwardly positions his arm in a splint right under his chin and hesitates. The reason might sound morbid if he’s being honest. That has never stopped either of them before, though. “Well, the reason I went into anaphylactic shock from penicillin was because my mother forgot I was allergic when I was 9.”
Hank is completely silent and still aside from his breaths. Connor can’t gauge if that was too morbid for the moment or not, and his anxiety rises at a steady rate, like a progress bar. “Was that—“
“Jesus fucking Christ.” They both speak simultaneously and then Connor presses his lips into a tight line. Hank holds onto him a little tighter. “What kind of a parent forgets their own kid’s allergies? You don’t deserve that shit, sweetheart. I know I’m an old fart, but I remember as much about you as my dumb brain lets me. And I know you do too. You could probably rattle off my details right away.”
Connor can’t help a small smile. “Henry Jacob Anderson, date of birth 9/6/71.”
Hank snorts. “Don’t ever call me Henry, by the way—“
They speak at the same time, “—because mom used my family name when I was in trouble.”
Hank starts laughing softly. “See what I mean? When you love somebody, you know this shit.”
“I…” Connor laces their fingers together. “Can I get a goodnight kiss?”
“Demanding,” Hank teases, but sits up enough to kiss him. “Goodnight, Baby.”
“Goodnight, Hank.”
Christmas Eve brings with it the oddness of them being alone.
Cole spent last Christmas Eve with Hank and the day with his mother, so it’s reversed this year.
They meet at Connor’s for once before departing to Amanda’s for dinner. The whole affair feels good, all things considered; she asks Hank a few questions, which is an improvement over the last couple of visits. His brother’s significant others cause minimal issues, again, shockingly.
Allen is always a model guy, which is precisely what Amanda wants in a partner for all three of them, and Gavin is the worst, making Hank seem like a dream in comparison. Niles roasts Gavin at least a dozen times, from dinner to dessert. It makes Connor feel better that he only scolds Hank a couple of times.
By the time they’ve played games and eaten their weight in delicious food, they finally get to drive to Hank’s place in preparation for Christmas morning. Connor has never been on the other side, but before leaving, Cole left out a note, a container of a handful of cookies, a carrot for the reindeer, and milk for “Santa.”
“I look enough like Santa; it definitely counts,” Hank says, then proceeds to eat the cookies. Well, a couple. He gives Connor some, too, and they split them, taking turns dipping them and then drinking the milk.
Hank cheers him with a half-eaten cookie and grins. “So, how’s your Christmas shaping up?”
Connor plasters a fake smile on his face. “It’s been good. A little overwhelming, though.”
“It gets better,” Hank says, shoving a cookie in his mouth. “The first few Christmases with Cole, I never felt like I was doing enough. Everyone has their ideas of what a “good” parent should do. Once I stopped worrying about that and instead thought about what made my holidays great, I enjoyed it a lot more. We’ve done way more this year than I normally do.”
Connor is caught off guard by the answer; it leaves an odd impression on him. Hank is right—everyone has opinions, and none of that matters, does it?
What made his Christmases special?
He’ll need to step back and reflect on that because he only remembers base contexts and the people there.
And what does he mean they’ve done more this year? Connor assumed Hank wanted to do all this stuff. Get Cole awesome gifts, cut down a tree, go ice skating…why would he do them if he didn’t want to?
Connor tenses up, wondering if he forced them into doing things they didn’t want to do.
He will have to digest this and ask when they aren’t so preoccupied.
Together, they carry the gifts purchased, labeled from Santa and with their names, and Connor hopes Cole still likes the gift he was able to get. It’s not much, but it’s the best thing he could find at the store.
They stuff the stockings for each other, and then Hank fills up Cole’s. “Lucky bastard gets two holidays,” Hank says with a mournful chuckle. It’s a bonus to a kid, but to Hank, who would rather have his son the whole time, it’s not so fantastic.
Finally, Hank presents Connor with a neatly wrapped present. “Just an early gift.”
“Wha—“ Connor stands there holding the box while his brain processes the current situation. The loading wheel is spinning rapidly in his head as he attempts to respond appropriately.
“You didn’t say we were doing gifts on Christmas Eve,” Connor says with a hint of annoyance. “I didn’t get you anything extra.”
“That’s fine,” Hank says like he planned it and knew that would be the reply. “Sit your ass down and open it, I want you to.”
Connor pushes down the awkwardness of being the only one getting a gift and sits on the couch to start ripping open the paper. Hank grins, and inside the box…is another wrapped box. He groans. “Hank…”
“Keep going,” he says with a chuckle. This process repeats several times until Connor holds a box that fits in his palm. This one he opens, and inside is a key.
Hank awkwardly clears his throat and looks away. “Uh. You don’t gotta say yes, but I love you, and I, uh, would really like you to call this place home, too.”
Out of all the things he expected, Connor had no idea Hank would feel more fondly of him after everything. It’s been a rough month in terms of celebrating. Now he has to wear a splint for 6 weeks, and nothing went how it was supposed to. And to think, even after seeing him wailing like a child after fracturing his wrist, Hank still wants him to move in.
It feels like everything he’s been holding in over the last month boils over, and without understanding why, Connor starts to bawl. He doesn’t think cry is the right word because he grabs the key, his eyes tingle, and then it surges over his control. Hank scrambles to sit down next to him and embrace him. “Con? Did I do something wrong?” Hank takes him into his strong arms, and Connor feels so embarrassed.
Again.
He wraps arms around Hank and buries his face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he cries, holding so tightly onto the key it will likely leave imprints in his palm.
“Why are you apologizing?” Connor doesn’t get it. Why does Hank not seem to care about all the shit he’s done to ruin their holiday?
The damn finally breaks, and he leans back and starts to talk. “Why don’t you seem to care? I messed up getting Cole the right gift. I picked a tree that was too tall, fractured my wrist, and scared Cole, but I didn’t even get you a gift for Christmas Eve. This has got to be the worst Christmas ever.”
Connor removes his glasses to wipe his eyes, which is much harder with one hand. Hank stares at him with wide, shocked eyes, eyebrows tilted up and deepening the lines on his forehead. He looks scandalized. “I—“ Connor sniffles and cries softly, waiting to see what Hank will say. He seems wholly caught off guard.
Hank frowns deeply, grabs a few tissues from the coffee table, and hands them to him. “Has this been the worst Christmas for you ?”
The question seems obvious enough, but Connor is honestly surprised. In his mad rush to make Hank and Cole happy, he hadn’t once stopped to think about himself. “I—“ Well, now he is.
And… “not the…worst. But I’ve been stressed out.”
Hank suddenly cups his cheek. “Con, you do realize you don't need to worry about anything, right? Any gift you buy Cole will be fine. The kid gets two Christmases, and he already loves you. He’s never given Mr. Dog to anyone before. All that shit—well, uh, except your wrist,” he waves his hand like he is swatting something. “It doesn’t mean shit to me. I liked getting the tree because I did it with my two favorite people. It's the same with ice skating. I only wanted to do things to be with you and Cole. We coulda been sitting at home watching movies, and it woulda been great.”
Connor is in a state of…relief? Yeah, Hank doesn’t care about the technicalities, only that they did something together. All this time, he’s been stressing and trying to keep up something he didn’t need to.
“I love you so fucking much. We could spend an entire day in bed, and I know I’d have a blast. You’re not just my partner, you’re my best friend. I love spending time with you. That’s why I wanna live together.”
As if he needed to ruin Connor further, the words make the temperature go through the top. Both of their faces are red by the end of it. But at least he’s not actively crying anymore. “Although—“ Hank grins mischievously. “You do need to recalibrate your fun sensors, baby. This was the best Christmas I’ve had with a partner, hands down . I wish you’d have told me.”
Connor sighs softly, looking down at the shiny gold key in his hand, new and untouched by wear. He smacks his lips together and fights a smile, his lips twitching. “That Santa shirt has got to go.”
Hank lets his hand fall away. “What?”
“The Santa shirt, Hank. It’s criminal to live in the same house as that monstrosity.” Connor catches his gaze and winks to show Hank he’s being playful, which makes him relax.
“Well, my novelty shirt collection comes with the package. You can’t get one without the other. Sorry to break it to you, Sweetheart.”
Connor laughs with an exhale through his nose and thinks for a moment. “Okay, then I need at least half of your closet.”
“For your collection of white button-ups?”
Connor tries hard to be appalled, but it just doesn’t work. Hank is right; he has way too many. “Sorry, I need them all.”
“Lucky you, I think I can deal with that. On one condition.” Connor straightens up, expecting something profound. “I’d like to make your Christmas Eve special, at least.” He grins and winks. Connor snorts a laugh at the horrible wording before he grabs Hank’s hand.
“I think I could allow that. So long as you let me do the same.”
Hank squeezes his hand back three times. “Sounds good.” Then he leans in to kiss him, and Connor meets him halfway.
Even if things didn’t go as planned, Connor feels free that Hank will be there regardless.
Now, just to give him the credit he deserves.
And it turns out Cole thinks the toy drill is the best thing ever.