I have this headcanon where Alex calls Hank “Hanky-Pank” is that weird or—
And now so do I.
There’s an easter egg in here, so props to you if you can spot it.
Hank quirks a brow at the horrified look this blond convict’s giving him. He cautions a look to his button down and tie, trying to see if a pen somehow managed to explode in his pocket.
“Is it take your child to work day?” He asks, still looking at Hank. Charles sighs, rolling his eyes and briefly looking to Erik before looking back at the blond. “Hank is actually responsible for building the machine that found you,” Charles says. “So, please, be respectful of him, Alex.”
Alex sighs through his nose and nods sternly, obviously rejecting that idea.
“I, uh, wanted to run some diagnostics on Cerebro…” Hank says, looking to Charles.
“Right,” Charles nods. “We have a meeting with Director Brand, but after?”
Hank nods, watching Charles and Erik leave.
“So,” Alex says, not content with just letting the brunet work. “What’s your power? Super dweebism?”
Hank frowns, shaking his head. “Uh… I have a genius-level intellect. And atavism.”
He hears Alex snort. “A.K.A. “I brought a rolly backpack to high school.””
Hank stays silent, not willing to admit that he did. But he was younger than his classmates and that wasn’t the only reason they made fun of him.
“What’s your power?” He asks, cutting off any other snide comments Alex has.
The silence drags on to the point where Hank looks up from his Cerebro notes. Alex’s frowning and fidgeting with his hands. “Energy,” he says simply. “Red energy blasts.” Hank opens his mouth to ask him what he means—if he’d be willing to run some tests—but the other is up on his feet and saying “I’m going to go find something to eat,” before Hank can say anything.
props for teaching me the word “atavism.”
fic: you better run away, baby (before I put my spell on you) | HankAlex, ‘X-Men: First Class’
Title: you better run away, baby (before I put my spell on you)
Author: kevo
Pairing: Hank/Alex
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual situations)
Warnings:: dubious use of telepathic control, but nothing too scary.
Word Count: just over 6,500
Summary: In his quest for a cure to his physical mutation, Hank gets more than he bargained for – and then some.
Author’s Note: Inspired by these two ‘love potion’ fic prompts. Not quite a love potion, but it’s what called out to me.
Title: Science Project
Fandom/Characters: XMFC; Hank McCoy, Alex Summers
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This sucks. I got a bit carried away. There is angst.
Summary: Hank and Alex are in high school. They are complete opposites and are forced to work on a science project together
Word Count: 1590
Author’s Note: Ugh, it’s 3 am. I should not be writing fan fics any time after midnight.
AHHH, THAT’S ME. Fantastic. And the wordcount is an anagram of 1950. Haa. V cute.
*The person who gives the best prompt and/or writes the best fic for this photoset will get it reblogged on this account*
“So you’re saying that thing that attacked my lab… It was an extraterrestrial.”
“Yes,” Agent Ay nods.
The corners of his mouth perk the slightest bit. Over four years doing this job, he hasn’t heard any pedestrian use that word without pronouncing it wrong. Until Hank McCoy, that is.
Then again, Hank McCoy isn’t an ordinary pedestrian.
“Mr. McCoy -“
“Doctor,” the man corrects without missing a beat, like he’s been doing it for a while.
“Right, of course,” says Ay. “Dr. McCoy. There’s something you should -“
“It killed them,” Hank says. “My frie- My colleagues. That - That thing killed them.”
Agent Ay takes in the man’s disheveled appearance. The picture Zed showed him portrayed a much more together person. Tragically unhip, maybe, with well-combed hair, unfashionably thick glasses, and a flannel-and-sweater combo that aged him a good ten years. Now, the sweater discarded after getting stained with bug juice and the glasses lost somewhere in the melee, Hank looks something approximating his own age. Like a scared twenty-one year old. The way Ay looked the first time he saw an alien, back when he was still Alex. Back when there was still a Scott…
This may not be the best time for Hank to learn the truth, but if Ay’s going to protect him he has no choice.
“Listen, Hank,” Ay says, reaching across the greasy diner table to touch the man’s arm comfortingly. (And not because he’s been fixated on that freckle on Hank’s neck for the last ten minutes. Not at all.) “I know this is difficult. But we need to get you out of here. Back to MIB Headquarters. Your life is in serious danger.”
“But why?” Hank demands. “Why me? My research is innocuous. Why would these aliens, as you so call them, possibly want me?”
Taking a deep breath, Ay answers, “Because, Hank. You’re an alien, too.”
(I don’t know, something about Lucas Till in that suit, the whole thing just came to me. Maybe I’ll write more later, but I need to get ready for the Gotye concert or my husband will kill me.)
Alex looked at the picture on Hank’s bedside table. It was one of him sleeping.
“Hank, I know you have plenty of other pictures of us and of me. Why do you have this one on your table?”
“Because you look so adorable and peaceful. Plus, you’re not talking my ear off,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Anyway, it’s my favourite thing to look at when I wake up. I can see you sleeping next to me whether you’re in here or not.”
Alex looked at him through squinted eyes. “You’re a dork.”
“Yeah, but I’m you’re dork,” Hank said before giving Alex a small peck.
plasmashootingmutantkittyheater:
Dinner was never an issue for Hank before. Not until that one night.
Alex seemed to be more distracted and spacey than usual, which made Hank want to sneak more looks at him. He had to admit that Alex had better table manners than most, considering his past. The way he very carefully cut up his food to bite sized pieces and pushed his fork into it.
Hank’s eyes watched as the fork was lifted idly to his mouth and between his lips. He tries to look away but couldn’t as the now empty fork reappears from between his lips. He watches as he chews carefully, his tongue sliding out a few times to lick at his lips.
Hank realized his throat has gone dry so he reaches for his drink, keeping his eyes on the blonde. A slight curve of a smile on his face shows that he knows the other was watching him even though he tried to not let on that he could feel his gaze on him.
The next bite that made its way to his mouth was met with his tongue first, curling slightly to bring it into his mouth. Hank knew he was teasing him now but it felt like something was lodged in his throat and all he could do was stare at the fork, almost jealous of the cutlery. Not that he ever got jealous but this was probably the closest he’s ever been to jealousy.
After he swallowed the bite, he finally turns a little to look at Hank. “Can I help you, Bozo?” His usual smirk was on his face and his eyes were shining like he had been laughing, causing a blush to creep into his cheeks.
“No.” He grumbled and dropped his gaze to his plate where his food was nearly untouched. He suddenly wasn’t hungry and all he wanted to do was get away from the table to rid his thoughts of Alex and that damn fork.
Alex let out a small laugh and took another bite. Hank glanced back up at him and his gaze didn’t go unseen, causing Alex to lick at a corner of his mouth. The blush on Hank’s cheeks got darker, he had to get out now or he wouldn’t be able to move for a while with the way he’s teasing. He shoved the chair back and stood up, practically running out of the room as Alex watched him curiously. He sighed, he had hoped that Hank would actually realize what he was trying to do but the scientist was just as clueless as ever. Not that Alex didn’t like that or anything.
