Of course not, Hank. [Connor winks and leans back in his seat a little.
The opening credits roll and Connor peeks over at Hank, taking in his profile and quietly adoring it. He doesn't mind Hank's age at all. In fact, he finds Hank quite charming and is curious as to what will happen next.
And what's happening next is Connor setting his hand, face up, on the arm rest between them. Will Hank take it?]
[Hank leans in close, whispers in his ear, and Connor's eyes flutter shut for a moment. His smile continues to brighten as he turns ever so slightly towards hank.]
It's there for your hand, if you want.
[Y'know, just a little cute hand holding if Hank is up for it.]
Hank is squinting at the movie screen, trying to wrap his head around the logic of it all: Connor, not the movie. He understands what Connor is aiming for here — with the hand thing, at least — but what he doesn’t understand is why.
It’s hard to just let himself go and embrace the evening’s whimsy. Sure, a cute, much younger guy is... being flirty. It’s just that — not as if they’ll see each other again after this.
Hank sighs: because he’s tired of fighting with himself. It’s one night.]
I do want, yeah. [He says this in a whisper — something he didn’t have to bother vocalizing, seeing as how he reaches for Connor’s hand. Awkwardly laying his palm flat atop Connor’s, just feeling him — because, really, how is this real? — before he’s curling his fingers between his.]
[Connor clasps his fingers around Hank's and squeezes. He's been tempted in the past to have a one-night fling, but never so as tempted as this night. After assuming he'd ruined it with his advance in the showers, Connor is more than pleased to be holding Hank's hand now.]
Is this alright?
[He does want to make sure that he's not making Hank uncomfortable.]
[More than fine, really, once Hank let himself take the leap. Even if it’s just Connor doing his good deed for the day, being nice to the grumpy old man at the truck stop, and —
No. He’s gotta stop thinking like that. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. Hank just needs to stop thinking.
So he does, and instead, he brushes his thumb against Connor’s hand. Softly; back and forth. And Hank is watching the movie now, sort of — mostly gawking because what the fuck is with these sharks?? — but holding Connor’s hand is better. More enjoyable.]
[Oh. Oh. This is nice. Connor leans in closer as they hold hands, eyes on the movie but his focus remains on Hank's hand, how his thumb moves across Connor's skin. Though there is an armrest between them, Connor leans closer yet, setting his head on Hank's shoulder. The popcorn remains in Connor's lap, but just barely as he gets settled.]
Hank isn’t complaining. He is quiet. Still wondering what he’s gotten himself into when he again has to shut off that train of thought. Nope. Hand holding only in this head, now. And sharks, kind of. But mostly the warmth of Connor’s hand, the softness; the strangeness of feeling someone against Hank’s hand like this.
He thinks, too, about how Connor’s leaning on him now. And he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything, again, but it feels... nice. Warm. Like something Hank has needed for years and years and yet hasn’t found again, after he lost Cole. Hasn’t let himself look for.
Comfort. From another person. It’s weird.
Hank turns ever so slightly toward Connor, lips brushing his hair before he turns back in a rush. He didn’t mean to do that — but what did he mean, then?
It’s Hank: the one making this excruciatingly weird. He sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.]
[Connor likes watching the movie like this. Not ones with sharks in them, but with company. And especially with such lovely company. Hank is warm in his hand, beneath his cheek. He feels Hank shift and then a brush of his hair. Connor glances up with curiosity.]
[He’s almost surprised Connor hasn’t marched out of here by now. Hank hasn’t done anything like this in years, and part of him is still awaiting that dreadful “sike!”]
It’s good. [Being with Connor, he means. Touching another person.
He tries to maneuver his free hand over to the popcorn — neither wanting to let go of Connor’s hand nor get said hand all greasy — and as he does so, Hank knocks a bit of popcorn in Connor’s lap.
Oh! [Connor looks down at the popcorn but isn't too worried. He grabs the couple pieces from his lap and happily chews them. He nudges the popcorn bucket closer before taking a couple of fresh fluffs of popcorn and holds them up for Hank to eat.]
Uh. Yeah. [Not that popcorn is exactly filling, but Hank’ll take it.] Guess you could say that.
[He reaches for the popcorn. Shoving it into his mouth as he chews slowly.
It’s nice that no one has shushed them… yet. The theater is, understandably, mostly empty. Whether that’s because people aren’t in the mood for a movie, or they aren’t up for “Sharknado,” specifically — who knows.
Whispered incredulously:] The fuck is this movie, Connor?
Weird fuckin’ premise for a movie. [Not like Jaws, exactly.] This is a “classic?”
[It’ll pass the time, though — and with Connor. Hank hopes Sumo isn’t chewing up the seats in his truck again, but that’s just a risk he’s willing to take right now. Should still be all tuckered out from his bath.]
Well, damn. Then you must know all the twists. [Does “Sharknado” have a riveting plot?? Somehow Hank doubts it.] Not gonna spoil this classic for me, I hope.
[Hank’s just teasing. Doesn’t particularly care, seeing as how he’s not really here for the movie at all.
Reaching for another handful of popcorn now, this time not spilling it all over Connor. An improvement over the last awkward slip!]
Uh huh. Gonna make me suffer through however many hours of — [Hank shoots a cursory glance toward the large screen] — sharks in tornadoes.
[He hopes his sarcasm is coming across, although he knows it’s not exactly endearing — to most people, anyway. But Connor doesn’t really seem like most people.]
[Which is, perhaps, a tragic attempt at a silly little flirt, because Hank doesn’t know much about Connor. Not beyond the fact that he’s sweet on Hank — for whatever reason.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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The opening credits roll and Connor peeks over at Hank, taking in his profile and quietly adoring it. He doesn't mind Hank's age at all. In fact, he finds Hank quite charming and is curious as to what will happen next.
And what's happening next is Connor setting his hand, face up, on the arm rest between them. Will Hank take it?]
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[Oh, Jesus. That little wink.
And his hand. The fuck is he doing with his hand? Hank is much more interested in that than the movie. Who just rests their hand like that?
He leans toward Connor to whisper in his ear, less because he cares about being rude and more just using the movie as an excuse:]
Connor.
[He should have just ignored Connor’s hand. Should have just watched the damn movie!!]
What’re you...?
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It's there for your hand, if you want.
[Y'know, just a little cute hand holding if Hank is up for it.]
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[It’s just there. For his hand.
Hank is squinting at the movie screen, trying to wrap his head around the logic of it all: Connor, not the movie. He understands what Connor is aiming for here — with the hand thing, at least — but what he doesn’t understand is why.
It’s hard to just let himself go and embrace the evening’s whimsy. Sure, a cute, much younger guy is... being flirty. It’s just that — not as if they’ll see each other again after this.
Hank sighs: because he’s tired of fighting with himself. It’s one night.]
I do want, yeah. [He says this in a whisper — something he didn’t have to bother vocalizing, seeing as how he reaches for Connor’s hand. Awkwardly laying his palm flat atop Connor’s, just feeling him — because, really, how is this real? — before he’s curling his fingers between his.]
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Is this alright?
[He does want to make sure that he's not making Hank uncomfortable.]
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It’s... fine.
[More than fine, really, once Hank let himself take the leap. Even if it’s just Connor doing his good deed for the day, being nice to the grumpy old man at the truck stop, and —
No. He’s gotta stop thinking like that. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. Hank just needs to stop thinking.
So he does, and instead, he brushes his thumb against Connor’s hand. Softly; back and forth. And Hank is watching the movie now, sort of — mostly gawking because what the fuck is with these sharks?? — but holding Connor’s hand is better. More enjoyable.]
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[Why is Connor being so...! Cute! Affectionate!!
Hank isn’t complaining. He is quiet. Still wondering what he’s gotten himself into when he again has to shut off that train of thought. Nope. Hand holding only in this head, now. And sharks, kind of. But mostly the warmth of Connor’s hand, the softness; the strangeness of feeling someone against Hank’s hand like this.
He thinks, too, about how Connor’s leaning on him now. And he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything, again, but it feels... nice. Warm. Like something Hank has needed for years and years and yet hasn’t found again, after he lost Cole. Hasn’t let himself look for.
Comfort. From another person. It’s weird.
Hank turns ever so slightly toward Connor, lips brushing his hair before he turns back in a rush. He didn’t mean to do that — but what did he mean, then?
It’s Hank: the one making this excruciatingly weird. He sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.]
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Is everything alright, Hank?
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[A muffled:] Fine.
[He’s almost surprised Connor hasn’t marched out of here by now. Hank hasn’t done anything like this in years, and part of him is still awaiting that dreadful “sike!”]
It’s good. [Being with Connor, he means. Touching another person.
He tries to maneuver his free hand over to the popcorn — neither wanting to let go of Connor’s hand nor get said hand all greasy — and as he does so, Hank knocks a bit of popcorn in Connor’s lap.
Oops.]
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Hungry?
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Uh. Yeah. [Not that popcorn is exactly filling, but Hank’ll take it.] Guess you could say that.
[He reaches for the popcorn. Shoving it into his mouth as he chews slowly.
It’s nice that no one has shushed them… yet. The theater is, understandably, mostly empty. Whether that’s because people aren’t in the mood for a movie, or they aren’t up for “Sharknado,” specifically — who knows.
Whispered incredulously:] The fuck is this movie, Connor?
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It's about sharks that end up in a tornado and then terrorize people.
[He can't help but find it a hilarious choice. There's only one film at a time in these cinemas, he assumes, but they of course got Sharknado.]
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Weird fuckin’ premise for a movie. [Not like Jaws, exactly.] This is a “classic?”
[It’ll pass the time, though — and with Connor. Hank hopes Sumo isn’t chewing up the seats in his truck again, but that’s just a risk he’s willing to take right now. Should still be all tuckered out from his bath.]
You seen this before?
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[Back before he came into trucking.]
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Well, damn. Then you must know all the twists. [Does “Sharknado” have a riveting plot?? Somehow Hank doubts it.] Not gonna spoil this classic for me, I hope.
[Hank’s just teasing. Doesn’t particularly care, seeing as how he’s not really here for the movie at all.
Reaching for another handful of popcorn now, this time not spilling it all over Connor. An improvement over the last awkward slip!]
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[Especially not as Hank is so close when he's reaching. There's a slight blush that picks up over Connor's cheeks as he watches Hank move.]
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Uh huh. Gonna make me suffer through however many hours of — [Hank shoots a cursory glance toward the large screen] — sharks in tornadoes.
[He hopes his sarcasm is coming across, although he knows it’s not exactly endearing — to most people, anyway. But Connor doesn’t really seem like most people.]
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[Connor corrects with a smile. Hank's torture will be over sooner than he thinks.]
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Ninety minutes of sharks in tornadoes, huh.
[Hank fakes a sigh. Squeezes Connor’s hand.]
Good thing I’ve got such excellent company, then.
[Which is, perhaps, a tragic attempt at a silly little flirt, because Hank doesn’t know much about Connor. Not beyond the fact that he’s sweet on Hank — for whatever reason.]
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The best company, really.
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[A small smile curls on Hank’s lips as he watches the movie.]
Oh, yeah? Thought the implication was there already.