Thread by @rkem00

🌑🍂 inktober (hankcon) day 17 [entry 12] "chicken feed"/"praise"

Hank sneezes four times in a row, making himself follow into a cough then several heaving deep breaths. He groans weakly to himself and collapses back against the bed, wishing he could just be doing anything else.

Catching a bug right at the end of an intense case was the wrong move for his body to make.

He doesn't know if Connor's home yet, so he spreads across the bed for his phone and croaks into an audio message, "Connor… I'm cold, I miss you. Are you home?"

It takes only a moment and he gets a message back, playing it on speaker against the mattress. "Hank, honey. I'm almost home, you gotta wait just a moment longer. You're doing so good. Put on another blanket and think of me."

A small lick of adoration runs through him at Connor's soft words. He's feeling shitty and Connor's sweetness helps. He sighs into his pillow, dragging his face across to be close enough to the mic. "Connor… Gimme something sweet to tide me over."

He shivers and grabs for the blanket at the other side of the bed, dragging it mostly unfolded over his body. The weight is nice and he closes his eyes for a stray moment of rest. Connor's reply vibrates against his fingers,

"I love you, Hank. I love you and still want to kiss you even though you're sick."

Hank sobs a little into the hot air his body heat in the blanket makes. He curls up and waits somewhere between sleep and wakefulness for Connor to get back.

He doesn't know how long it's been when fingers are carding through his hair, dipping below the blanket to rub his cheek. "Hank."

He groans softly and leans into Connor's cool hand, rolling over while still clutching the blanket close.

His lover looks down at him with those soft warm eyes, crinkling with a little smile.

"Oh, there he is." Connor rumbles, leaning down to press a kiss to Hank's forehead, "You're a little hot, baby."

"Mm, you're a charmer." Hank croaks, reaching a shaking hand out for him. Connor lets himself be pulled, crawling on his knees while he shakes out of his jacket. Hank grabs for his shirt once the jacket is gone, making him laugh.

"I'm here, I'm here." Connor assures sweetly, leaning one arm on the bed to reach back and pull off his shoes.

"I don't feel good." Hank whines, because he knows he can. He presses his face into Connor's chest and sighs.

"I know, handsome." He nuzzles Hank's hair with his nose, swinging a leg over to bracket Hank in. "I got you something to help you feel better."

Hank frowns, letting Connor help him sit up. "Honey, I don't think I can take the strap today…"

Connor flushes pink along the ridge of his nose, laughing in surprise. "That's not what I meant." he adjusts the blankets around Hank's chest and grabs the greasy paper bag from the bedside table. "This will make you happy. I'm surprised you didn't smell it."

"My nose is so stuffed up." Hank shakes his head, sounding a little awed while he dips into the bag. "Chicken Feed… I can't believe you went all the way over for me."

"You needed some comfort." Connor leans in to press a lingering kiss to Hank's cheek,

"You're doing so good about staying in bed and I wanted to give you something special."

Hank feels a shiver roll up his spine. Even passing praise is wonderful, and he realizes that he craves it more than ever in his hazy mindset. He leans into Connor's hands

and there's a moment of silence where it clicks in Connor's head too.

"Do you want me to say more nice things, Hank?" he whispers, fingers filing through that soft beard. Hank ducks his head slightly and looks down into the bag, giving a soft nod.

A warm smile spreads on his lips and he reaches into the bag to retrieve Hank’s burger, encouraging him to peel back the paper. “I missed you while I was out, you know.”

“Even like this?” Hank asks, referring to the sweaty, sickly state of himself.

Connor guides the burger towards his mouth. He can smell it now it’s so up close and his mouth waters in anticipation. He takes a bite as he looks up at Connor, seeing the adoration in his eyes.

“I always want to come home to you.” Connor whispers, pushing his hair away from his face. He twirls some and tucks it behind his ear so it stays put. "Especially in the times where you let me take care of you."

"Mmh." Hank's heart flutters and he sinks back further against the headboard. He doesn't want to talk with his mouth full and he's not quite sure what he'd say. That Connor shouldn't take care of him.

And Connor would start to list all the ways Hank takes care of him, obliterating his argument.

Connor settles his weight fully on Hank's lap and reaches over for the bottle of ginger ale on the table. "I love you, Hank."

He swallows his food and cradles Connor's cheek in his palm. They switch items in their hands so Hank can take a drink. "I love you, too. I'm so lucky, Con."

"I'm lucky, too." Connor smiles, softly kissing Hank's skin. He leans their foreheads together and

Hank knows he's taking his temperature when his skin comes away where they touch. "You help me feel. Even years later, you still help me through new mixes of emotions. You're patient with me, and indulgent, and give me your time when it sometimes should be given other places."

Hank shuts his eyes for a moment, a lump forming in his throat. He loves Connor, he loves doing those things for Connor. Even without realizing at times. He always wants Connor to know how much he values him. He swallows hard and opens his mouth to say how much this means to him,

when Connor simply presses the burger to his lips.

"Come on, handsome." Connor coos, kissing his nose, "Be good for me, like you always are. Eat your lunch."

Hank feels like he could cry. He sighs and takes another bite, letting his free hand rest on Connor's waist,

seeing how far his fingers and thumb span. Connor smiles at him, "I love when you do that. When you hold me."

He gently pets Hank's chest with an overly warm hand, hoping he can rub some of the congestion away. "You're so good for me." he continues,

watching the way Hank's eyelashes flutter. "You make me feel safe. I want to kiss you so much… I use my software to preconstruct it every time I can't."

Hank meets those dark brown eyes and sniffles with his painfully congested nose. "Oh, honey…"

Connor presses a kiss to his temple, "Hundreds of times a day. I preconstruct lots of things."

Connor coaxes his eyes closed when he kisses his brow, "Kissing you. Crawling into bed with you."

Another soft kiss lands on his cheekbone, "Making love with you. Dancing with you."

On a moment when Hank's mouth is free, he brushes their lips. "Marrying you."

Hank's floating. He's so beautifully carried by clouds he almost doesn't understand what Connor's just said. But then he does, and he opens his wet eyes to see him in a blurry focus. "What?"

Connor gives him a smile, soft and lopsided and tender. "I think about it every single day."

It takes Hank a moment to process, and another moment after that to remember how to breathe. Connor gently rubs his cheeks. "Connor, jesus…"

So easily he's taken into Connor's arms. He holds on for dear life, breath shuddering inside his chest. He has so much he wants to say, so much more he knows he doesn't have words for. He wishes he had more of a clear head, there's hazy domesticity circling in his thoughts;

of wonder at when exactly Connor wants his mouth to kiss, his hand to dance, his body to explore. His heart tied in with a welcome, weighted ring on his finger.

"You're the one I always want. Hank, you make it worthwhile." Connor says, letting Hank hide in the crook of his neck.

He stutters over himself, then a rough sneeze takes him. Connor holds him through it. "Is… is that more praise or are you really proposing right now?"

Connor starts to answer— then is interrupted by two more sneezes and a soft apology. He kisses Hank's heated forehead again. "Maybe when you're recovered, my love."

🧡💛