Salt of the Earth
Nov. 2nd, 2011 07:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ofvanitySalt of the Earth
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ofvanity
Pairing: Hank/Sean
Words: 700~
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Corny *science* jokes.
Disclaimer: I am not a crook, XMFC doesn't belong to me.
Author's Note: Bedtime diddy foreverhaunting.
Sean knew it wasn’t going to be a fairy tale romance.
The fact alone that they met by crazy random happening via mutant boarding school was enough of the drama necessary for six teenage love movies, let alone real life. But there was this blistering moment in November where he looked across the plaza of a front yard at the Xavier Mansion and Hank wasn’t just there, he was there.
Cuba was months ago, the world has been a slow spiral since then, all focused on Prof’s recovery and his subsequent new flirting act with Alex and maybe the house is getting a little too stuffy with their heated glances across the room, but Sean hasn’t really been paying attention to them. He hangs out a lot in Beast’s lab these days, and he can make sodium chloride now. The Prof tells him as far as chemistry goes, sodium chloride is pretty basic, but learning isn’t the point is it.
The point falls from across the yard, sitting at the fountain of some goddamn cherubs prancing around and spitting water for god’s sake, the point is Hank. He leaned across the lab table and he used his lab equipment—that shit is expensive—to let Sean make some fucking salt. He laughed at all of Sean’s stupid jokes and maybe how he leaned against the table wasn’t so much flirting as it was Hank’s tired body just leaning on a goddamn table, but the way his fingers held open the jar for Sean—turned up and bright pink in attention, that has to be flirting somewhere.
The point was that Hank was probably busy—working on something a little bit more relevant that just table salt—but he stopped for Sean. Hank could have been building some revolutionary, something that could change the world, or save their lives the next time they’re face to helmet with Magneto, anything, but he stopped for Sean. He held open jars of assorted white powders and called them all these names like they were his friends, he put something personal in front of Sean for him to manipulate.
At the end of the day, Sean doesn’t even want a goddamn fairytale. What the fuck is a fairy tale, anyway? Where do they test in the Litmus of fairytales? Would it have made any difference if their first kiss was against glass, something fragile—or fireside, approaching something dangerous? Would it had mattered if Sean had brought Hank out of his shell, twirled blue fur in between his fingers and tugged gently to lead into a kiss?
Even if it did, Sean wouldn’t care. There was this plain, bright, hapless moment of pure, unadulterated joy and shit, chemistry, and Hank kissed Sean with fluorescent lights from the lab reflecting in his glasses. It wasn’t the perfect kiss, either, their noses are crushed together uncomfortably and Sean is sitting down with Hank looming over him and there’s a moment where he can’t think to move beside his heart racing in his chest, but they make it through.
When they pull apart, Hank has reverted to his shy demeanor, and the lights are glaring into his glasses so he can’t see his eyes. Sean can feel the blush rising over his cheeks and he chuckles, because he’s been waiting for this. He lifts his hand and removes Hank’s glasses, sliding them off and setting them on the table before standing from the stool he was sitting on, and kissed him properly.
First impressions and first kisses, the plaza fountain of a mansion and their fingers still sticky with manipulation, they all put Sean in this moment, here, where he wakes up and there is a bare blue shoulder bumping against his. His body is warm and it actually looks pretty dreary outside, the usual November weather, but he knows they’ll be out there later but the cold doesn't bother him these days. He twists Hank’s hair into his fingers and tugs it a bit to wake him up. When Hank’s eyes open, Sean kisses him.
Hank’s lips taste like salt.
Author:
ofvanityPairing: Hank/Sean
Words: 700~
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Corny *science* jokes.
Disclaimer: I am not a crook, XMFC doesn't belong to me.
Author's Note: Bedtime diddy for
everhaunting.Sean knew it wasn’t going to be a fairy tale romance.
The fact alone that they met by crazy random happening via mutant boarding school was enough of the drama necessary for six teenage love movies, let alone real life. But there was this blistering moment in November where he looked across the plaza of a front yard at the Xavier Mansion and Hank wasn’t just there, he was there.
Cuba was months ago, the world has been a slow spiral since then, all focused on Prof’s recovery and his subsequent new flirting act with Alex and maybe the house is getting a little too stuffy with their heated glances across the room, but Sean hasn’t really been paying attention to them. He hangs out a lot in Beast’s lab these days, and he can make sodium chloride now. The Prof tells him as far as chemistry goes, sodium chloride is pretty basic, but learning isn’t the point is it.
The point falls from across the yard, sitting at the fountain of some goddamn cherubs prancing around and spitting water for god’s sake, the point is Hank. He leaned across the lab table and he used his lab equipment—that shit is expensive—to let Sean make some fucking salt. He laughed at all of Sean’s stupid jokes and maybe how he leaned against the table wasn’t so much flirting as it was Hank’s tired body just leaning on a goddamn table, but the way his fingers held open the jar for Sean—turned up and bright pink in attention, that has to be flirting somewhere.
The point was that Hank was probably busy—working on something a little bit more relevant that just table salt—but he stopped for Sean. Hank could have been building some revolutionary, something that could change the world, or save their lives the next time they’re face to helmet with Magneto, anything, but he stopped for Sean. He held open jars of assorted white powders and called them all these names like they were his friends, he put something personal in front of Sean for him to manipulate.
At the end of the day, Sean doesn’t even want a goddamn fairytale. What the fuck is a fairy tale, anyway? Where do they test in the Litmus of fairytales? Would it have made any difference if their first kiss was against glass, something fragile—or fireside, approaching something dangerous? Would it had mattered if Sean had brought Hank out of his shell, twirled blue fur in between his fingers and tugged gently to lead into a kiss?
Even if it did, Sean wouldn’t care. There was this plain, bright, hapless moment of pure, unadulterated joy and shit, chemistry, and Hank kissed Sean with fluorescent lights from the lab reflecting in his glasses. It wasn’t the perfect kiss, either, their noses are crushed together uncomfortably and Sean is sitting down with Hank looming over him and there’s a moment where he can’t think to move beside his heart racing in his chest, but they make it through.
When they pull apart, Hank has reverted to his shy demeanor, and the lights are glaring into his glasses so he can’t see his eyes. Sean can feel the blush rising over his cheeks and he chuckles, because he’s been waiting for this. He lifts his hand and removes Hank’s glasses, sliding them off and setting them on the table before standing from the stool he was sitting on, and kissed him properly.
First impressions and first kisses, the plaza fountain of a mansion and their fingers still sticky with manipulation, they all put Sean in this moment, here, where he wakes up and there is a bare blue shoulder bumping against his. His body is warm and it actually looks pretty dreary outside, the usual November weather, but he knows they’ll be out there later but the cold doesn't bother him these days. He twists Hank’s hair into his fingers and tugs it a bit to wake him up. When Hank’s eyes open, Sean kisses him.
Hank’s lips taste like salt.
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