speaking in code

It doesn't actually start with breakfast. That's part of it, yeah, but it's not the reason, not exactly. Well okay it's sort of related- but anyway. Breakfast. It's not about that.

What it's actually about- how it actually starts- is the library, which is kinda nerdy but, he thinks, kinda cute too, sort of geek-romantic or something.

Oh, but the library isn't really the point either.

Okay, so the actual point is: he's in love with Galahad(/Tecumseh/Imhotep/Plotinus/whatever). He has been for kind of a while now. And it starts, partly, with the library.

He mostly works during the day, and Plotinus doesn't sleep, which he figures has to add up to a lot of time spent being bored. Of course when Hanna brings it up he gets a "No, I don't mind. I don't get bored easily" in response, which is plainly crazy talk.

So he comes up with the idea of the library on his own. If he had a bunch of time to kill, he'd probably spend it on movies or something, but Plotinus seems, y'know. Smarter. Thinkier. And anyway there's always movies to check out from the library, too, and magazines and stuff, and plus- bonus, big bonus- it's all free.

Hanna almost, almost gets a smile when he hands over his library card. Awesome.

That's not when it starts, of course. Well okay maybe it had already started then, a little bit, because maybe that's how the whole love thing works, building up on tiny stuff like almost-smiles until suddenly one day bam, it's love, enough tiny things adding up into one big huge thing. Or maybe not. Hanna doesn't know a whole lot about love; this is pretty new to him.

But anyway the next day, that's really the important part. He comes home from work to find stacks of books on the floor, lined up beside the mattress, where Morpheus is stretched out and reading. "WOW you got a lot," he says, and goes to sit on the mattress to inspect the books. There's maybe twenty, and it looks like a really random assortment, fiction and non-fiction and.. cookbooks?

Morpheus sits up, puts his book aside to look at the stacks with Hanna. "I don't think I know how to cook. I figured I'd learn."

"Huh, can you even eat? I mean I guess if you can walk and talk and all- but Conrad does too, and he doesn't eat, y'know, like, food, he-" He makes himself stop before he starts talking about eating brains. That'd be kind of rude. Not to mention gross. "So, yeah, cookbooks huh?" He picks one up to flip through, pausing on a picture of pizza. Oooh, pizza.

"I'm not sure. I don't seem to need to, anyway. But I can cook for you." He blinks, looks up to gape. Morpheus looks like he's serious, but then again he pretty much always does. And, really, what? Cook? For him? What? "Pop-Tarts for breakfast probably gets boring." And there's another almost-smile hiding in that expression, he can totally tell. Wow.

And, well, actually no, Pop-Tarts don't get all that boring because there's a bunch of flavors, and then sometimes there's Eggos instead or, on days when he's feeling a little rich, bacon egg and cheese McMuffins. And for dinner, well, he likes Kraft mac & cheese, really, it's not bad or anything.

But actual breakfast? Or dinner, or whatever, anything, made for him? Thinking of it makes his chest feel all warm and happy, like he just swallowed a bunch of hot potato soup (which, oh my god, maybe hot potato soup is now legitimately in his future) or like his heart just grew three sizes or something. He doesn't even really know what the hell to say to this, because wow. Wow. No one's ever.. well really, no one's ever even stuck around for all that long, but sticking around and wanting to cook him things?

"That'd be cool," he manages at last, and he's pretty sure he's grinning like a doof but HEY he's always grinning like a doof, so that's probably okay. "Um. So what else did you get?" He goes back to poking through the books, and finds himself gaping again when he picks up one he recognizes.

Reading up on runes is kind of a huge pain in the ass. A lot of what he's learned has been in extremely unconventional ways, and the few books he has came from weird, poky bookstores or really hinky-looking websites. But he'd tried the library first, and two or three books had been helpful- and he's seeing all three of them right now in the stacks Orion has brought home.

"I wasn't sure if they'd be very accurate," Orion says, picking up one of the others to flip through. "But if I'm going to be your sidekick, I thought I ought to do some reading up. I don't want you to get hurt again just because I don't know what I'm doing."

That throws him a second- hurt again?- and then he remembers the whole puking blood thing. "Oh, pff, that wasn't as bad as it looked! I can handle way tougher stuff than that, you don't have to worry about me."

And hey, apparently Orion makes faces other than 'serious' and the occasional almost-smile, because that right there? That is stubborn face. It is, he realizes, kinda cute. "Someone should."

The warm feeling in his chest gets even stronger, accompanied by a sort of fluttery feeling in his stomach. He's pretty sure there's never been anyone in his life that not only wanted to stick around through his weirdness but even wanted to help. And worrying about him? What? It's crazy, he kinda wants to give Orion an enormous hug and normally that's not an instinct he fights but somehow that'd be.. weird, like. Like it might mean something, a little bit.

Thinking about it makes him get all nervous and uncomfortable, so he changes the subject instead, and picks up another book from the pile. "Neverwhere, huh? What's that about?" And Orion goes with his bad attempt at deflection, doesn't call him on it or anything. And part of him has marvel at that, too, has to pause and think, what did I do to get this lucky?

So yeah, he figures later. That's pretty much how it starts.

+++

He knows he shouldn't have gone messing with ghosts. He's not stupid- okay not really stupid, not most of the time- and he knows how dangerous it is, but hell, it's his job. And anyway it's not like he knew for SURE it was even a ghost at all until the thing showed up and decided to fuck with him, though okay yeah fine unexplained shit is usually ghosts but not always! It could've been gremlins. Or something.

But, right, so he has a little bit of a ghost problem. And maybe he should've said something about that to Imhotep at some point, just to.. prepare him, or whatever. But it turns out he didn't really need to since even without having said anything he still finds himself waking up at Doc Worth's. Aaand Worth and Conrad are arguing, jeez, he really hopes he isn't around for it the day they snap and jump each other. Gross.

Worth kicks Conrad out, and Imhotep looks like he's hesitating up until Hanna tells him it's okay. "I'll be right out," he says, and smiles as he watches him go; it had been nice, to be protected back there. He wonders if Kairos carried him here or what. God, he's probably blushing just thinking about it, his skin is all warm when he rubs at his neck.

He turns his head to find Worth watching him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Shit.

"Oh, Hanna." Worth snickers, in that dirty-old-lech kind of way of his. "Bit dead for you, isn't he? His bits'd probably fall off if you tried anything."

Okay, now he's definitely blushing. "HEY shutup how's that sound? I think it sounds awesome, I think you should give it a try. I bet Conrad would agree with me. And hey HE'S dead too y'know, just sayin'." Though ugh, seriously, he kind of really doesn't need to think about the two of them, ever ever.

Worth just rolls his eyes, waves his hand in a 'yeah yeah shirt off now, moron' kind of way (Hanna has had that hand wave aimed at him kind of a lot, he recognizes it real easy) and unscrews a bottle of pills to hand two over. "Just don't come lookin' to me to fix him if you break anything. And," his expression gets more serious, eyebrows all frowny and stern. Aw, concern face. "Stay the hell away from that ghost. You better not end up back here again tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, and swallows his pills, and takes off as soon as Worth gives him the okay.

Sheesh, people worrying about him. He can totally handle himself! Y'know. Mostly.

+++

Christmas is coming, which suddenly means more than just lights getting hung up everywhere and carols playing and shopping becoming about a billion times more insane. Now he actually has friends, and someone he.. well, cares about. A lot. So he's gotta go gift shopping, but what the hell to get the zombie who doesn't seem to actually need anything? Reconnaissance is clearly in order.

He gets breakfast every single day now, even if he isn't working. (It's totally unnecessary, and he has tried to get that point across, but no luck so far. And, well, okay, he isn't fighting all THAT hard because wow. Seriously. Breakfast, every day, made by someone he's pretty crazy about. Even if it's completely one-sided, this is the best relationship he has ever, ever had.) Anyway so today is an omelet day, and also a no-work day.

"So hey Rick I was thinking we should totally go out today while the weather's still pretty good! We could catch a movie or something, maybe shop a little bit?" And then he can keep an eye out for any top secret 'Hanna should totally buy me this' signals that might get sent.

"Sure." Rick slides the omelet onto a plate, and hands it to him where he's sitting on the counter. "Rick?"

Hanna laughs around the bite of omelet (mmghsogood) already in his mouth. "Uh huh, Casablanca. 's classic film day!" Classic romance films, mostly, but he's not gonna admit that. Man is he embarrassing sometimes. "We can watch some later maybe. Or we can see what's playing at the theatre downtown or something."

Rick looks amused- hopefully not because he's got cheese on his face or anything- and nods. "Casablanca gets referenced in things all the time, and I've never seen it. Well, I don't remember seeing it, at least. I suppose I might've."

Whoa he just kinda got overexcited about that and nearly flailed himself off the counter, oops. "Maybe seeing it will make you remember!" And he wants David to remember- he does, totally!- but the thought makes his stomach twist nervously, too, because what if remembering means he wants to leave? But he pushes that aside, focuses on breakfast instead. Here and now, things are good, and there's shopping and movies to come. No point in ruining that by worrying about stuff that hasn't happened yet.

+++

He doesn't bother bundling up to go out or anything- seriously, the weather's been great- just grabs his jacket and the Polaroid and his wallet. And his Sharpie, just in case. All the essentials for an awesome day. Well, those plus David, of course.

Shopping, though, is not so awesome. The stores are packed, the people are rude, and he can't find anything gift-worthy anyway. "Let's just go to the park for now," Jerry says after the third time they step into a store (Barnes & Noble this time, which he'd been kind of counting on as a sure thing) only to turn around and walk back out again within five minutes. "We can come back for the movie later." The Maltese Falcon is showing downtown- awesome- but they've got a couple hours to kill, so the park sounds as good as anything. Better than trying to keep shopping, anyway.

The park actually turns out to be a great call. There's a playground in the park. He even gets Sean to go on the swings with him. It. Is. Excellent. There are SMILES involved, not big ones but still totally definitely there. And then after a while Sean says "Hey. Eat something," and points at a guy with a trailer thing, selling burgers and hot dogs and stuff. Which actually sounds pretty good, so he takes a break.

There's a wall along one end of the sidewalk circling the playground area; it's just the right height for Hanna to hop up, with Sean leaning beside him while he eats. The camera clunks in his pocket when he first tries to sit, so he takes it out and hands it over and then turns his attention to lunch. Polaroid film is a real bitch to find these days, but he's got kind of a stash, and he figures just standing there watching him eat has got to be boring, so he nudges his toe at Nick's hip. "Take some pictures!"

So he does, while Hanna eats; he doesn't take a lot, and one is a hugely dorky one of him while he's got cheese and ketchup on his face, but it makes Hanna happy anyway. He wipes off his hands on his jeans before poking through the photos, careful not to get grease on them or anything. "These are cool," he says, pausing on one of three kids spinning on the tire swing. Maybe he can get Nick a camera for Chrismas. That'd be pretty good, especially if he can find a cheap enough digital one.

A breeze blows past right as he's finishing off the last of his Coke (mostly ice at this point) and Nick notices his shiver immediately. "Are you cold?" Before he can say anything (he's not all that cold, not really, it was just for a second) Rhett takes off his scarf and winds it around Hanna's neck instead, tucking it close enough that his fingers brush Hanna's hair. And then gives him a little bit of a smile. "Better?"

He's pretty sure his face just turned bright red and his heart stopped beating and he's probably not breathing either but hey, yeah, sure, other than that he's fine. "Uh huh," he manages to get out, thankfully not squeaky or embarrassingly breathless or anything. "Um. Thanks." He puts a hand to the scarf, ostensibly arranging it more comfortably but really just wanting to touch it. Because scarf.

Rhett smiles again, faint and barely there but still definitely a smile, and goes back to the camera, leaning closer beside him. Hanna's still kind of staring at him when the flash goes. "Oh!" Fuck, he's definitely blushing right now; he lunges to grab the Polaroid, clutches the negative close to watch it develop. Oh, god. "Oh, um. No, we should take this again, this one didn't- let's do another." He tucks the photo into his pocket (the inside one; he's going to keep it, of course, he's just going to keep it somewhere safe, where no one but him will ever, ever see it) and flashes Rhett a grin.

Apparently it's not the most convincing grin, because he gets kind of a dubious look in response, but- probably having decided that Hanna is just weird sometimes- he hands the camera over. "Was I making a face?"

"Ha!" He has got to assume that was a joke, because SERIOUSLY. "Just the usual one, man. Naw, I just. Y'know. Had my eyes closed. C'mon, we'll try again."

The second picture comes out better- he doesn't look completely pathetic, anyway- but it's still the first one that he finds himself staring at later.

Fuck. He is maybe kind of in trouble, here.

+++

After that he figures it's only a matter of time before their friends start noticing. Seriously, if he ever makes a face like that where people can see him, they would have to be pretty blind not to recognize what that's about.

Toni's the one to say something first, which is pretty okay because she's also (apart from Ples, maybe) the one least likely to give him a hard time about it. And he's never been really great with girls, but having someone he can actually talk about this with- Worth doesn't count- turns out to be kinda okay.

She comes along with him to get the next round, when they're all out at the Rabbit Hole together, and says, "So, does he know?" without any kind of preamble, and Hanna spills like half the gin and tonic currently in his hand. "Oh, jeez, sorry," she says, and grabs some napkins to help him out. "I guess that's a no, huh?"

"Yes, it's a no!" he hisses, and fuck, he is bad at being discreet. He KNOWS this about himself. He is pretty sure it's one of his more obvious character traits, so why Toni picks now of all times to talk about this is.. aaagh. "Please, please don't say anything. I don't want things to get weird or anything, I just.." He sighs, digs out cash from his wallet to replace Ples' drink. "I like how things are. I'm really happy how things are. If he knows, it might- he might-" Leave, he might leave, and Hanna has no idea what the fuck he would do with himself if that happened.

"He'd never leave," Toni says with way, way more confidence than Hanna thinks is justified. "What if telling him would make you guys happier? I mean, you don't even want to try? I think you guys would be really cute together."

Hanna wonders, for a second, if maybe she's speaking in some kind of secret girl code, where she's phrasing things like a question but really meaning them as statements- 'it would make you happier, you should try, I know everything'- but then decides that's way too complicated so even if that's what she's doing he's going to pretend she isn't. "No, because if I totally freak him out then it- I- even if he stays, it'd be weird, it'd be different, because then he'd KNOW so then when I'm staring at him while he makes breakfast he'll actually NOTICE or if we're watching a movie and I'm wishing I could scoot closer then he might realize that's what I'm thinking of or when we go out places, he'll probably stop doing that thing where he puts his hand on my back because then he'll know how it makes me go all stupid and." He makes himself stop, because Toni is looking at him like 'holy crap.' "So I'm not telling him," he finishes.

He picks up his half of the drinks and heads toward the table; behind him, he hears Toni say "Whoa. Well okay, then."

Lao-Tzu looks up at him when he gets back. He's learned, by now, to recognize the smile when it's there in his eyes, even if it doesn't always make it to the rest of his expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah! I'm fine," he says, with an attempt at a laugh that hopefully doesn't sound too lame. Apparently it's not all that convincing, but he flashes his best bright smile and turns away to hand Veser his (illegal, but there's no point arguing with him) drink. "So. What'd I miss!"

+++

Despite the way it might sometimes seem, it's not like he actually goes looking for trouble. Sure, trouble- stopping trouble in particular- is part of his job description, but hey, he's trying to help; the dangerous stuff is just an occasional (well, maybe more than occasional) side effect.

So sometimes the danger and trouble means he ends up hurt. He's pretty used to it, it doesn't bother him any, but Horatio (today is literary characters) seems bothered by it every single time, no matter how minor the scrapes. He's pathetic enough to find it kinda sweet.

And, okay, yeah, fine, this one is maybe less minor than most. It's a stupid one- he cut his leg falling off a tree branch while trying to move a nest of pixies to a place where they'll be less of a pest- but kinda bad, pretty bleedy and he suspects he'll need stitches.

Horatio's beside him in an instant, hands hovering for a second like he's afraid to touch. "I'm fine, it's cool, nothing broken! Just a scratch. Haha- 'tis but a flesh wound."

"Ha," Horatio says, deadpan, and scoops Hanna up, which whoa, hey. He knows he's light, but jeez. And of course now his stomach's all swoopy and fluttery, god, he's so lame sometimes, ugh.

It takes him a second (he's a little busy being a huge girl) to realize they're headed towards Doc's, not the apartment. "No no, hey, no, seriously, I'm okay. Just need to wash it out and slap a band-aid on it- it looks way worse than it is, I swear." And Worth will just tell him off for doing something dumb like climbing trees, anyway. He gives Horatio his best huge pleady eyes, gets a 'hm,' in response, but they turn towards home.

He should really be arguing about being carried. Any normal person would be- hell, he would be too, under different circumstances. But god, it feels nice, just being so close without having to worry if it seems creepy. It's stupid, maybe, but he closes his eyes to let himself enjoy it a little, to let himself pretend.

And then they're going up stairs, so he knows they're home. "Hanna," William says, soft, like maybe he thinks Hanna's fallen asleep or something. That'd be pretty nice, he could totally sleep just like this.

But he's not asleep, and he really, really doesn't ever want things to get weird between them, so he opens his eyes and sees his door and says, "Oh, hey. You can put me down now, I can make it from here. Thanks." William doesn't exactly seem thrilled about it, but puts him down anyway and follows him into the apartment. Hanna kind of hobbles his way over to the bathroom, scrounging up a clean washcloth, bandages, bactine, and- yeah, he keeps them in the medicine cabinet- a needle and thread.

William leans in the doorway, watching as he sits on the edge of the tub and rolls up the leg of his (pretty ruined) jeans. Hanna doesn't quite manage to bite back a hiss of pain as he works on washing off the blood, and he can see William flinch at the noise. "Maybe we should still go to Worth's."

"Nah!" He laughs, but it's weak, because fuck, that wasn't even actually the painful bit. "It'll be all of, like, two stitches, and Doc'll just give me a hard time anyway. And I can do it myself! It's no big deal."

When he accidentally makes himself gasp again- by wiping the washcloth over the cut in a way that is apparently wrong, wrong, wrong- Darcy's suddenly right there, crouched beside him. And looking really worried, which is one expression that does show through clearly pretty much all the time. "Please let me help."

And, hell, it's not like he can say no to him anyway. If he's going to say please, well, fuck, Hanna would need loads more willpower than he's ever actually got in order to turn that down. So he hands over the washcloth, and tries to keep his breathing from going all erratic as Darcy carefully cleans the blood from his leg. Maybe if he notices he'll assume it's from the pain. Sure.

It's nice to be taken care of, but the first sharp pain of the needle in his skin still makes him whimper, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "I'm sorry," Darcy says, sounding unhappy, and then takes Hanna's hand in his, which. Aw. Hanna tries not to squeeze too hard or anything. It goes faster that way. And he really only does need the two stitches, anyway, so it's not all that bad.

But when he opens his eyes again, Darcy's still looking worried- or maybe sad- and he wipes the washcloth carefully, gently over the stitched cut in a way that makes it so, so difficult for Hanna not to just lean over and curl up into him. "Hanna," he says, still in that soft way, and brushes his thumb over Hanna's leg, just to the left of the cut. "You've got to stop doing this."

He tries to laugh it off. "Hey, it's my job! I mean I know I'm not great at it but I'm not that bad, either. It's not a big deal! I get some cuts sometimes, a couple new scars- what's a few more? You don't have to worry so much, Enjolras, seriously, I can take it. I'm tougher than I look."

"Hanna." And, whoa. Okay, he isn't glaring exactly, but Hanna has learned to read those glowy orange eyes, they're pretty damn expressive to him by now, and Enjolras is.. angry. Like probably holding back shouting kind of angry. "It doesn't matter how tough you are, you can't keep throwing yourself into every dangerous thing that comes along. Let me help." He looks back down at the stitches- sad, worried- and then up again. "If nothing else, I'm easier to fix afterwards."

"You don't heal," Hanna starts to say, but before he can even really finish, Enjolras shoots back with "I can't die. Hanna, please, you can't-" He stops, apparently trying to rein in his anger, of which there appears to be a bit. But he'd almost rather deal with that than the sorrow in his tone when he continues, "I can't watch you get hurt anymore."

It's possible he just stopped breathing a little. "What- y- wh. You're, what, are you, do you, are you leaving?"

Enjolras has been avoiding looking at him, but that gets his head up fast, meeting his eyes with the closest to a 'what the fuck' expression Hanna has ever seen on him. "What? No, I could never- that's the whole problem, I don't even know what I'd do without you anymore. Hanna, I love you. And even if I can't, it still feels like I'm having a heart attack every time you go running into danger. Which you do a lot, I'm not sure if you'd noticed."

Hanna is pretty sure he just missed at least half of that because now he has definitely stopped breathing. What. He starts to flail, then squeaks as he slips and topples backwards into the tub.

"Hanna!" And there's Enjolras- Algy, Knightley, Benedick- hovering over him. "Are you doing this on purpose."

Okay he'd probably laugh if he could breathe yet, and if he wasn't so busy focusing elsewhere. "You, what, what? What, you said, you, wh- That, what, do you, I mean." Right he has to actually get some kind of question in there, probably, in order to get an answer. "I mean, do you mean- what do you mean? When you said. That. I mean. What?"

Yeah that could maybe be clearer.

But Knightley (he likes that one, he's sticking with that for a bit) seems to get the point anyway, and those eyes- seriously, how could he have gone so long without realizing how expressive his eyes are- soften, worry fading away for the moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you like that- well, I didn't mean to tell you at all. I love you. And it kills me to see you get hurt. And I'll never say it again after this, but I just. Needed you to know. Please, please be careful."

Holy shit.

Which is maybe the stupidest reaction in the entire world to something like that (other than, like, slapping someone) but wow. Seriously. He kind of can't decide if this feeling welling in his chest wants to express itself through laughter or tears and either one would be hugely embarrassing so he makes himself stay quiet a minute until he's got it under control.

And then he shoves himself up, throws his arms around Knightley's shoulders and tumbles them back, landing kind of hard on the linoleum but he so does not even give a shit right now, because he's busy kissing- kissing- Knightley, who is (holy shit) kissing back.

It's kind of frantic at first, because Hanna's feeling pretty delirious, but then he realizes wow, wait, this is their first kiss, and slows down a little to savor it.

Knightley's got one arm wrapped around him, the fingers of his other hand curling and combing through Hanna's hair, and Hanna's fingers have somehow ended up playing with those so-cool white hair tufts, and god, okay, so he's a total girl over this whole thing but maybe they both are, and that would be okay. That would be pretty fucking great, in fact.

Wait, wait, but he forgot a really important bit. He breaks from the kiss- pretty reluctantly, stealing extra little half-kisses as he goes- to sit up a little. "I love you. Really unbelievably much, and I have for a really long time so if it turns out that you've loved me a really long time, too, then we're both kind of stupid, but I don't even care because this is going to be awesome."

And then Knightley (seriously, holy shit) fucking laughs. Laughs! This night is the greatest, this is the best night ever, and the realization that things are only going to get even better from here makes his heart grow like FIVE sizes. "It is going to be awesome. Even though I think you might have missed some essential points in here, since you just threw yourself at the floor." He pauses, tilts his head in apparent consideration. "Though you did let me help catch you, at least."

"Oh, jeez." He scrambles to sit up, ends up kneeling in a way that leaves him straddling Knightley's hips (awesome, awesome). "Sorry about that, are you okay? I didn't even think-" And hey, that's the whole problem right there. Maybe they'll have to talk about this later. Way later, though. "So but hey, I've got a bed. Well, sort of a bed. A mattress, anyway. And I bet it'd be loads more comfortable than the floor." Yeah that's totally the sexiest line anyone has ever tried. Well done, Cross. Jeez.

But Knightley seems pretty okay with it, still smiling as he sits up enough to grab Hanna's shirt and pull him down again. "I think it can wait," he says, low and super fucking hot, and kisses Hanna again.

It all gets a little hazy after that- there's some groping, it's great- but the last clear thought Hanna has is: Yeah.

Seriously.

So. Cool.