X-MEN IMAGINES

( h. mccoy ) fake it, pt. 2

He couldn't help but sigh, grateful at how patient you seemed to be with him - you always were. No matter his stutters, or is unsure nature, or his fuck ups; you were always there to help him out in any way you allowed him. You always wanted to give; and it was something he admired more than anything.

"You look cold," Hank observed, offering out his hand instinctively for you to take. All day, he'd been touching you just like he would a girlfriend, and it was setting all of your nerves on fire. He was so subconsciously caring, reaching out to hold your hand, brace the small of your back, put a comforting hand on your knee. Ordinarily, Hank wouldn't dare to make contact with you like that. He barely could get a sentence out in front of you without devolving into a stuttering mess. But the pretenses of faking it made it so much easier for him to express what he really felt.

You couldn't help but accept his grasp, his hands wrapping around yours as he tugged you closer to the doorway - drawing you inside with him. The curtains flapped gently beside you, and Hank belatedly couldn't help but think that you looked lovely in the lighting; you face illuminated dimly from the lamps in the room.

"I'm sor-"

"Hank," You cut him off with a slight chuckle, eyes meeting his with a kind gaze, "Don't even apologize . . . it's okay," You assured, and his shoulders couldn't help but fall slightly at your words.

He was blushing all over again, but this time you got to enjoy it up close, fondly taking in how he looked, "I didn't mean for you to be overwhelmed like this."

You shook your head, smiling, "They were always going to do this . . . but they'll get used to me and find something else to focus on." He didn't know why, but you had the very particular ability of calming him down when he began to panic. It was like that at work, and it felt like it right then. You always knew what to say to get him out of his head.

You noticed how his thumb began to run back and forth against your skin, and suddenly, you felt your face becoming just as warm as his.

"Did you . . . really like me?" You couldn't help but ask, curiosity getting the better of you as soon as you had the opportunity to ask. The entire day, you were squirming in your seat trying to figure out if his family was misunderstanding him talking about you casually, or if he really was gushing. After all, you were probably one of the only people he had in his life to mention.

Hank immediately flustered, gaze flickering away from yours without taking his hands away from you just yet. He was mildly speechless, lips parted because he didn't know how he was going to tell you that he still did. "Um . . . yeah," He finally decided on, laughing nervously as he glanced to see your reaction from the corner of his vision.

You were bright pink, your eyes filled with curiosity, "Well, why don't you anymore?" He was weak at the knees, not sure how he was courageous enough to get this far with the way you were looking at him.

Hank was pinned down - and he should've seen it coming from the moment he asked you. To be fair, he was starting to realize that maybe he did it on purpose. Just a little bit, knowing that maybe it would end in him finally admitting whatever all of this was, to you. And he just hoped to God that you weren't going to leave before his family woke up in the morning.

"I-I . . ." Hank stumbled slightly over how he wanted to say it, finally looking back at you so that he could do it properly. "Well . . . I still kind of do," He said plainly, and he fought back the urge to preemptively flinch at your response. Honestly, he knew he was holding back. He didn't really know what it was like to be in love - but being around you kind of gave him an idea of what it was like. And if he wasn't in love with you; he didn't know what it meant at all.