[Hank looks up, for a moment just gapes dumbly at the kid crying in front of him.]
Motherfucker.
[He’s not- He can’t handle someone else’s feelings right now, he’s having enough trouble not crying already and he’s spent the last couple hours working through this moonshine and there’s a kid crying in front of him.
Hank might not know Izuku super well, but he knows him. Hank knows he’s one of those cheerful people, the kind of upbeat that always puts him off balance a little. He knows Izuku can’t - maybe physically can’t - bring himself to call Hank anything actually casual. There’s maybe two people in this whole place who ever still call him lieutenant. Hank knows Izuku will talk a mile a minute about heroes, how fucking great they are - there was some shit about smiling, he thinks, vaguely. Hank knows Izuku’s due to hit the same hard wall all idealistic kids do, eventually. Hank knows he doesn’t want to be around when he does.
Hank knows he doesn’t always get what he wants.
The noise Hank makes levering himself up is part at the effort of doing it, part just an excuse to make an unhappy noise, but since Sumo’s big and patient and used to propping up big wobbly assholes Hank makes it up. He makes his way toward Izuku, frowning, holding an arm out to try and slip it around Izuku’s shoulders and pull him in to a hug the moment Izuku lets him.]
Fuck. Come on, kid. Come on. It’s okay.
[He should know better than to say shit like that. It’s stupid and wrong and he reaches to run a hand over the kid’s hair and it falls out of his mouth anyway.]
no subject
Motherfucker.
[He’s not- He can’t handle someone else’s feelings right now, he’s having enough trouble not crying already and he’s spent the last couple hours working through this moonshine and there’s a kid crying in front of him.
Hank might not know Izuku super well, but he knows him. Hank knows he’s one of those cheerful people, the kind of upbeat that always puts him off balance a little. He knows Izuku can’t - maybe physically can’t - bring himself to call Hank anything actually casual. There’s maybe two people in this whole place who ever still call him lieutenant. Hank knows Izuku will talk a mile a minute about heroes, how fucking great they are - there was some shit about smiling, he thinks, vaguely. Hank knows Izuku’s due to hit the same hard wall all idealistic kids do, eventually. Hank knows he doesn’t want to be around when he does.
Hank knows he doesn’t always get what he wants.
The noise Hank makes levering himself up is part at the effort of doing it, part just an excuse to make an unhappy noise, but since Sumo’s big and patient and used to propping up big wobbly assholes Hank makes it up. He makes his way toward Izuku, frowning, holding an arm out to try and slip it around Izuku’s shoulders and pull him in to a hug the moment Izuku lets him.]
Fuck. Come on, kid. Come on. It’s okay.
[He should know better than to say shit like that. It’s stupid and wrong and he reaches to run a hand over the kid’s hair and it falls out of his mouth anyway.]
It’s okay.