esther_a + f:dbh + h/c   1

if we're still alive my regrets are few by serenityfails
"Okay." Connor relents, though Hank can tell it's twisting him up inside. Relief washes through him, leaving him drained. He just wants to go home, turn out all the lights in Detroit, and become one with his couch in perfect darkness. "I'll take you home. You're going to rest, and I'm going to watch you for any sign that it's getting worse, and the second it does, we're going to the damn hospital."

"Like it when you cuss," Hank says, rather than any of the far more embarrassing things he could be saying.

"Perhaps I should do it more often, then, to see if it'll make you a better listener," Connor says, and without further preamble he bends down, slips his arm under Hank's knees, and lifts him up bodily, carrying him in a manner Hank absolutely refuses to think of as bridal style. It's as embarrassing as it is a relief to be off his unsteady feet.

"Connor, what the fuck," Hank yelps, struggling half-heartedly. "You can't just pick a guy up like that!"

"I think you'll find I just did," Connor says with his shit-eating little smirk. Connor's always been a smart ass, even before he went deviant, and Hank's told him as much on a few occasions.

"Put me the fuck down!"

"You're not walking down two flights of stairs in your condition."

"My condition, what am I, pregnant?"

"Yes," Connor says. "Congratulations. It's a traumatic brain injury." He carries Hank to the stairwell, without a bit of outward evidence that it's any effort at all. "I'll put you down when we're on solid ground."
fic  f:DBH  short  h/c  'ao3 
august 2018 by esther_a

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