Hank x Connor | O N E S H O T S

C

"Ugh, Hank..."

Hank rolls his eyes slightly when he hears the all too familiar voice.

"What Sarah."

Hank Anderson, a 24 years old who is studying to become a lieutenant, was sitting infront of his uni with his girlfriend clinging at him.

Sarah Miller.

God did he love clingy people. But you know, the kind of people that miss you easily, the kind of people who would text you a sweet message, looking after you and making sure you're alright, the kind of people that didn't follow you EVERY FUCKING WHERE and on top of that aren't even nice to you.

She really wasn't the right one.

"Hello? Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good. You're such a nerd sometimes. Reading all those books. What about me!? Don't you care about me?"

Hank sighs out frustrated.

"Maybe because I need to be good to become a lieutenant?"

"Whatever"

That's when Hank saw him.

Oh his soft puppy eyes knocked him over. He saw a young male talking with some other people, pretty far away from then. And then he turned around and their eyes locked for a second.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was breathtaking. Angelic even. The boy turns around quickly and shyly.

Brown curly hair, paint smudged on his cheek and clothes, a too big shirt, probably used to paint by the looks of it, black tight yoga pants and one blue and one red converse.

"Hank!"

Hank looks up quickly. Black long hair and icy blue upturned eyes.

"You weren't listening, were you?"

Hank sighs out frustrated.

///////////////////////

Hank gets out of the gym and walks inside the campus, he had a three hour break before his evening lessons start. He suddenly hears someone trip and pens and pencils clatter on the ground. Hank looks up from his schedule and was surprised to see the boy-

No.

Angel.

Laying on the ground, his pens and brushes on the ground. Hank rushes to his side and helps him pick them up. They both look at eachother suddenly.

Man what a cliché.

"You alright?"

"Yeah... I am just... Really clumsy."

Hank smiles softly and the boy returns it.

Just now he notices his freckles and moles. His chocolate brown puppy eyes and pink soft lips.

His hands looked really soft.

Hank hands Connor his pens and Connor puts them inside his pencil bag, that obviously was made by himself with the blue and yellow fabric knit together with colours on it and some signatures, probably from his friends.

"I am Hank."

The boy smiles at the nervous adult.