knowthyexits | (no subject)

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hank

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Sarah is starting to think that she's going to do something very stupid soon.

She's supposed to be going to a music hall with Coulson and she's milling around an avenue filled with shops and peeking in the windows of clothing stores and wondering if she's supposed to be getting dressed up and if she does have to get dressed up, she needs to find something. Or? Or she could not show up.

That would be terrible though, and she's not perceiving any kind of threat that would make her bolt, so this is nerves talking and Coulson has made it clear that they're not going on any kind of date, so why the hell is she nervous, god damn it.

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Hank was of the opinion that what was worn on the outside was far less important than what was underneath. In a purely philosophical manner, of course...

"You taking me out somewhere nice?" He asked, interest piqued, as he wandered along beside her.

"You're not going anywhere with me," Sarah replies easily enough, taking a few dresses off the hangers and replacing them back. "Someone else asked me to listen to some music, which means that I do have other friends apart from you."

"Someone else of the penis variety?" Hank picked up some of Sarah's rejects, thinking he had a better idea of what would look good on her than she did. "I'm not sure how I feel about that," he continued, with the tone of a disapproving father.

"He's a friend," Sarah clarifies, shooting him a sharp look. "I'm not sleeping with him and it's not a date," she says, turning around to find the dresses in Hank's arms. "What are you doing? I don't like those, put them back."

"Maybe I like them," Hank shot back, grip tightening possessively. "You already have a handsome male friend that you sadly don't sleep with or date. Why do you need another? Am I not enough for you? Do I not satisfy thy ladylike needs?"

Who was this guy and when did Hank get to punch him?

"Hoarding's bad for your health, you know."

"People can have more than one friend and still be considered healthy," she says. "In fact, I'm pretty sure the more friends you get, the more you start to win in that particular field," she points out, picking up a simple blue dress and putting it over her arm.

"Yeah, if all your friends are mediocre," he argued, a slight tone of petulance in his voice. "One awesome friend is enough." More than that was just plain greedy. "Who is he? I need to vet him before you start playing footsie with another man."

Sarah takes a deep breath in and knows that if she doesn't tell him, there's a high chance he might decide to follow her and find out for himself. That's the last thing she wants and needs. "His name is Phil Coulson," she finally says. "And I'm not playing footsie with him."

"Phil?" Hank repeats, trying out the name. "Phil. Phil. Phil." It didn't take him long to come to his conclusion. "Nope, not good enough for you."

He took a dress from her hands and replaced it back onto the railing. 'Phil' would not be seeing her in that if Hank had anything to do with it.

There are few times that Sarah ever feels a level of anger that she coped with back in Los Angeles, but it's always Hank who manages to get her there. "Excuse me?" she snaps, grabbing the dress back into her hands. "And why not?"

"First off, it's a boring name," Hank started, holding up his fingers as he ticked off each point. "Second, it's a boring name. And third, you need to date someone with a name that's not bor--Zzzzz."

Hank didn't support the idea of judging a book by its cover. He was an advocate of judging a book by the sound of its cover instead.

"You're not funny," Sarah states firmly. "Hank is a boring name," she reminds him. "And it's not a date. He's a friend," she clarifies one more time, even though it's likely on deaf ears. "Why can't I go out with a friend, even if you disapprove of the name?"

He looked thoroughly affronted by her accusation.

"Hank is most certainly not a boring name. And if it is, it's not even my real name. Ha. Suckaaaaa. Point to me."

Hank hadn't been paying attention to a word Sarah had been saying after she'd so mercilessly insulted him.

"Are you taking condoms with you? Because that shit is serious. Don't take them but sure as fuck use them if you're gonna let him get all up in your uglies. I mean it, don't take them." It didn't matter if his motor-mouth advice didn't make sense to Sarah. It totally did to him and if she ended up with a bun in the oven after this, he so wouldn't be to blame. He was just looking out for her, in his own way.

She cracks her neck back, and then forth, and she tries to remind herself that Hank does have certain moments where she actually doesn't mind him. "It's not a date," she says again, feeling like she's going to have to beat those four words into Hank's head if he's not careful. "He's not interested romantically."

"The lady doth protest a lot," Hank commented with a pointed look. The more she said it wasn't a date, the more he figured she was saying it just to spare his feelings.

"He's not interested roman--What's wrong with the cocksucker?" Oh. Hank lifted his eyebrows at her. "Is he a cock...sucker?" To each their own.

"The lady is protesting because you keep acting like an idiot," she replies as calmly as she can. "The last time I had a romantic interest in someone, it got really screwed up. Phil is nice and normal and I like him, yes, but he's not looking for anything and I could use the friend."

Hank didn't look particularly enthralled by her description of "Phil".

"I know you get a real hard-on for people and things that are normal but don't sacrifice passion and excitement for it." It was probably the most sincere he was going to be today. "I'm getting you these," he added, gesturing at the dresses in his hands before making his way to the counter to get them bagged up. "Make sure there's a spark."

"Normal doesn't mean you have to lose on passion," she points out. "Or excitement. Some of the most passionate moments of my life were had with a man who was normal," she says, thinking of Charley and how he could make her smile by doing nothing at all. "And if there is a spark? He's a friend, remember?"

She stares at the dresses, not sure what to do with them. "Thanks," she finally says, slightly awkward.

"If there's a spark, he won't be just a friend for much longer," Hank guessed, taking the bag from the ghostly boutique owner and hooking it over his shoulder.

"You do realize that if he becomes your boyfwend, we're gonna have to stop taking showers together, giving each other sexy massages and cutting down on our make-out sessions, right?"

None of which they'd actually done but all of which would have to come off Hank's to-do-sometime-in-the-future list.

"We've never done any of those things, Hank," Sarah says, baffled as she usually is by the man standing in front of her. Sometimes, she wonders if there's a sign on her back that attracts the very strangest of people. "I don't want to know what you think about, Hank, I really don't."

"Really?" Hank asked, feigning surprise, though he was also kinda checking, just to be on the safe side. There were plenty of nights on the island that were filled with black holes where memories ought to have been. Those nights were usually due to Lew and/or blessed white nose candy. "I coulda sworn..."

Teasing put aside for now, he slung an arm around her neck as he passed. "So. Tell me more about this twatty fucking cunt who's trying to steal you from me? Aside from his name and the real possibility that he might be gay, he sounds swell."

"Honestly, I barely know him," Sarah admits, which is part of the reason she's so nervous about this whole thing. "We've talked a few times, but as far as I know, he's on the ITF and we've exchanged pleasantries." That's all she's got to go on, so she's understandably nervous. Right?

"You ask him whether he thinks the Stones are better than the Beatles and then report back to me. I'll let ya know whether he's a keeper," Hank offered. "It's a fool proof test, trust me."

"How about you ask him on some date you have with him, since you seem to care more about how this night's going to go," Sarah suggests, taking the dresses to the cash -- still going through the motions even if she doesn't seem to be expected to pay.

"Excellent idea." Hank hung back to wait for her. "What d'you think he'd prefer? Candle-lit supper by an open fire or getting down and dirty on the dance floor? Totally up to him." Hank was pretty flexible as to where he vetted him.

"I think he'd prefer you to be charming and debonair," she deadpans, taking hold of the bag of dresses and peering inside to try and figure out which one she was going to wear. "You're very strange. Has anyone ever told you that, Hank?"

"I've been called much, much worse, honeybunch." Strange was a compliment in Hank's book. If normal was what every woman wanted, then he was shit outta luck. "But you're right. I am kind of strange. I'm also kind of really fucking awesome."

"In ways," Sarah agrees, even though it takes her a while to ground out the words. She likes Hank, even loves him as a friend, but he's so frustrating that he makes her wish she had more ammunition to spare. "More of the strange."

"That's when you're meant to say 'How do I think thee awesome? Let me count the ways'." That would have been a much more satisfying (for him) response than the infinitely enigmatic 'in ways' reply that Sarah had given.

But then some people did say that satisfaction was the death of desire, so on his toes Sarah should keep him.

"Although, personally, I don't think anyone could count that high. I don't even think a number exists for how awesome I am."

"That's because it's a negative thing," Sarah informs him, aware that she pokes a little too much fun at him, but she can't help it. "You're ...okay," she finally decides. "That's what I'd say."

"I'll take it," Hank replied easily. If 'okay' was where you got to after a couple years of friendship, then it had to be pretty good by her standards.

"Might I suggest that you're a little more forthcoming with the compliments on your non-date? Y'know, if you want there to be a second non-date."

"What, about you?" Sarah replies, curious. "I'm not going to be talking about you when I go out with Phil," she says, slightly oblivious to what Hank means.

"Yeah, about me," Hank drawled, giving Sarah a look like she was the one who had puffed a few too many spliffs earlier. "About him. Oh, you smell so nice," he continued, putting on a generically female voice, "you look soooo handsome. My, what big hands you have."

"I will try to make sure I say one or two nice things about him over the course of the night," Sarah says, but she can't guarantee it. She can only do her best to try and if that falls apart, she's tried.

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