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Hank McCoy was a nerd. Plain and simple, he really was. He covered up most of his social issues with a good vocabulary and polite distance. This was a good enough illusion for most, though he much preferred alone time with something intellectually stimulating. And more importantly he was a busy nerd. There wasn't much time to mess around with women when he ran the infirmary—not that he didn't want to talk to women, he just wasn't the most charming. Then the work. Always more patients to tend to, always more cures to create, always more galactic level threats to take down. His life was filled up.
He spent nearly all his time in that little makeshift hospital beneath Xaviers mansion. He rarely came up from his lab, his attention never straying from science. Did it get lonely? Well, a little. But he didn't dwell on that. He had the X-men, what else could he ask for? It would be nearly selfish to ask for more. Though he did not hide those nightly thoughts as well as he thought. Everyone knew, how lonely it was and how it must be weighing on him. It's how he had been since he arrived, which is why when Jean suggested the X-men help him get around a little bit, she was met with some backlash.
She organized a meeting, in the common area after the students had gone to bed. They were sprawled out, listening intently to her argument.
"I think it would be good for him." Jean started, her hands folded in her lap. "The man hasn't spoken to anyone, he must be getting lonely."
Logan snorts from his spot by the fire. "Do I have to remind you what he uh…ahem, looks like? Most women aren't exactly puttin' blue and furry for their type."
"I agree with Jean, while he's a bit unorthodox, it might be good to get him out of that lab. Heaven knows how much his eyes need it." A slow murmur ripples through after Scott's words, some nod along while others grow slightly hesitant.
"Sure, I agree with Jean—" Remy starts, before pausing. "But Logan is right, our friend down there ain't exactly the average bachelor. And secondly, who's gonna go on a date with him?"
Jean pauses, a thoughtful frown growing on her face as she thinks. "Something or someone will show up, they always do."
Most of everyone forgot about the little plan when you showed up. Wet, bloody, and shaking on the doorstep. You had spent a lot of time out there with a visible mutation and the world had not been kind to you. A skittish young thing, if they hadn't found you then, you likely would've died. 'The Newcomer', what they dubbed you as, didn't speak for the first two days, just slept and ate and used the bathroom and that was it. Your conscious constantly fluttering in and out.
There was a polite man, you couldn't really tell who he was through blurry eyes. You assumed he was a man because he smelt like one, sharp cold cologne clung to his office coat. It was a welcome difference to the smell of sickness and cleaner. The man who took care of you never stayed too long or really said anything. Just a heavy weight on your head, an adjustment of your blankets, a cool cup of water being placed down. A small tiny comfort in the confusing overwhelming place you'd found yourself in.
The hospital bed was cold but firm when you woke up. You didn't know how long you'd been there, or how long you'd been asleep. There was no sunlight, your room bathed in darkness. Your eyes tried to adjust but ultimately settled on being blind. White florescent lights crawled out from under your door. Your throat was dry, bone dry, and you made a soft coughing noise that was more like a hoarse whisper. Your back hurt, muscles achy and unhappy with lack of use. 'Man I've been horizontal for a while huh?'
Your feet found the cool tile floor, even more cold and unforgiving as your bed. You tugged the blanket along with you but abandoned it a few steps later for it was too heavy for your weak limbs. Your PJ pants had rolled up into a chunky capris and you quickly shoved them back down. There were noises outside of your room but you couldn't tell what it was, your hands groping blindly in the dark.
Your hip hits a metal…something and the things stacked on top clatter to the floor. You curse under your breath, a small 'fuck' as you try to figure out where the light switch is. Turns out you didn't have to find it, considering your door swung open and you were flash banged by hospital lights.
You hiss and a man makes a panicked noise. "Ah sorry, my dear-" The door shuts behind him and you try to blink away the pain. "Here, let me get the lamp."
Hank hobbles over to your bedside table, hopefully you hadn't noticed his upper octave of speech, he was quite nervous to get a good conversation with you. When you arrived, you didn't really speak, just passed out fast while he tended to your vitals.
A small lamp flicks on behind you and you realize you hit a rolling tray, a few needles and medical bottles rolling on the floor. "I'm…so sorry." You mumble, watching as a blue furry man kneels down to collect them. Gently brushing them into his massive paws.
"It's alright, nothing broke. How about you go sit down on the bed? Don't want you stepping on anything" He ushers you along and you follow his instructions, curling up on the edge of the firm mattress. Which was now blanket less, considering it was a ball on the floor. The doctor must have noticed your frown considering he picks it up; and you get a good look at his face. He really didn't look like…any animal. But you leaned towards feline cause of his flat nose. His hair was longer on the top than on his face and smoothed back. He had glasses, specifically designed for his beastly features. He didn't make much eye contact with you as he fixed up the mess you made.
"What are you?.." That sounded very rude. You clear your throat again. "Who are you?"
"Hank McCoy, and I am a mutant. Just like you." he nods, smoothing out his coat as he turns to you again. "Do you need anything or were you just startled awake?"
"Some water would be nice. And maybe a lap around the…wherever we are. My legs hurt." You both share a chuckle at that.
"I'll see what I can do dear."
You spent most of your time in recovery, bed bound. Sometimes the other mutants were kind enough to visit you, introduce themselves but it wasn't as often as you wished. There wasn't much to do other than talk to Hank when you weren't being visited, which you found increasingly easy to do. You were quite nervous before labs so sometimes he offered movies or card games between the two of you; you enjoyed the card games the most because it gave you an opportunity to ask him questions.
The same was not to be said about Hank. Every time he stepped into your room, he grew nervous and antsy. Every pause you made made his heartrate spike. He didn't exactly know how rationalize these sudden feelings of anxiety. There was nothing intimidating about you, if he was being honest you were a very lovely woman, Hank just found it extremely hard to talk to a lovely woman. A strange gross part of him wished you would heal faster and leave him to his normal routines, another stranger grosser part of him wished you would never leave.
You sat in the bed, waiting patiently for when Hank would visit you. Curled up under your blankets, you nursed a jug of Pedialyte and a package of crackers. The door opened slowly and you peeked up, smiling when you see his familiar face. "hi Hank."
"Hi dear." He sits down heavily on your bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. A package of cards were in his hands, his large fingers slowly shuffling them. "Do you wish to play crazy eights or war?"
In all honesty, you didn't really care for either or. Shifting the blankets down to free your arms. "Your choice."
"War it is." He nods, dealing out the cards between the two of you. You bite your bottom lip as you wait and he notices, looking down at the cards as quickly as he went to look at your mouth. "You have your 'I want to ask a question' face on."
"I do?" You giggle softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Well…I suppose. Were you always blue?"
"No. I became blue after I came in contact with a serum. It's not contagious so don't worry about touching me." That came out wrong. Really wrong. His eyes widen and Hank curses internally. 'Dont worry about touching me'? Who the hell says that?
"Wasn't a worry in the first place." You soothe, grabbing up your cards. "Though I appreciate the comfort.
You grow comfortable in your card game. Asking quiet questions, light ones. What was for lunch later today? Why was he a doctor? How much shampoo did he use on his fur? Silly stuff but it made him feel warm. You were always so curious, a part of him (all of him) quite liked it.
"You ready for your labs?" He finally asks, putting the cards away. He smiles when you sigh.
"Yea I suppose so." You roll up your sleeve, producing the crook of your elbow for him to gently prod at. His. thumb rubbing over your skin, pressing down gently to feel for veins.
"You're hydrated, that's good. Your veins are good today." He rubs a cold disinfectant wipe over the skin and you stare at the wall, a small anxious knot growing in your belly. You hated needles. Hated getting your blood drawn even more. But it was nice that he took time to make sure you felt okay.
The tourniquet was cold, a small rubber band tied fast around your bicep. There was a pressure and then a small sting as the needle dug itself into your vein, a soft hitch leaving your lips. He shushes you gently, holding your arm up as the blood slips out of your body. The iron rich smell breaks the antiseptic air, Hanks nose filling with the warm scent. It smelt good. You smelt good. You barely heard his next sentence because it was so quiet, "You have beautiful blood."
Your eyes fluttered over towards him, his own locked onto the tube. "Yea?"
His face flushes, a small stuttered cough leaving his throat. "Oh yeah, sorry, that's a weird compliment." Panic filled his chest, but it was the truth. Your blood was hydrated, a rich red, thick and full of iron. Your blood was healthy. It was good blood.
"no. It's okay, thank you."
He finished in silence, taking out the needle with a small sorry. A bandaid was placed over your skin, and he left quicker than he usually did.
That went on for a while. It was hard to avoid you when you were nearly everywhere and he couldn't pull himself away from you. He tried to rationalize his feelings, it was a small crush, something that would fade. But it wasn't fading fast enough for his comfort.
Jean joined him in the lab during one of your long after lunch naps. Jean wasn't your main provider, just offered some social support when you got panicky. Though her lack of action did not take away from her noticing you and Hank. Some pleasantries were exchanged between them before the conversation quickly turned to a particular mutant that was trapped in the infirmary with him.
"how is she?" Jean glanced towards your room before turning back to Hank. "Hopefully not going insane?"
"She's taking it surprisingly well." Hank adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat lowly. "Eating much more, she's gained around 7 pounds since she arrived. That's very good for her health."
Jean nods, mumbling. "Yea, she looks good. Her face got a glow back, not so pale." She smiles when she realizes how flustered he got at that. It was true, you were beautiful that's for sure. And it was obvious he had noticed that.
"I suppose she does. Hopefully she'll be discharged soon and can speak to Xavier about getting that mutation under control."
"Yea…I hope so too."
Hank was screwed. Really really screwed. This stupid little infatuation had wormed itself into his chest and wouldn't come out. It has been a month and a half since you've arrived and nothing has changed. You were still you and that was clearly a problem for him. He could barely focus on his work, his ear stuck to your door to listen to you breath. Every hitch in your sleep made him want to burst it open and see what was wrong. He paced the long halls of the lab, trying to throw himself into projects that he knew he couldn't finish with you still in there. And he believed he might just be going insane.
It was one of those weird rituals, where he circled around your room pretending to do something when he was hyperfocused on what you were doing inside. Which was sleeping, obviously, it was 2 in the morning. He heard the blankets shift, your heart pounding in your chest, the scent of fear sweat and panic wafting from under the door.
A nightmare. You had them often in the beginning, but you hid them. Under quiet muffled sobs and a few sleeping pills. Your eyes snapped open, a thick heavy claws ripping at your chest. You gasp, sitting up fast in your bed as the blankets fall around you. Your eyebrows furrow, the flashes of your dreams passing over your eyes. Exploding images on the pitch black walls. Your feet find the floor, hopping away from the bed. Your eyes wearily looking at the blackest spot beneath them. Anyone could be under there.
Your soft ragged breathing made his pacing cease, freezing before quickly making his way to your door. His hand settled on the doorknob before stopping. Was he being overbearing? The thought made him uncomfortable. It wasn't like anything serious was between the two of you. Hell, he was your doctor. Things like this were more well handled by Jean, but she was asleep and it would be rude to wake her up-
The door swings open. Your wide tear rimmed eyes staring up at his surprised ones. His mouth gapes open for a few moments before slamming it shut and shaking away his startled state. "Ah dear, are you okay-?"
You throw yourself at him. You don't know why, but you had to. Had to have some sort of comfort. it has been so long since you've been held. He noticed this about the same time you did. His big warm arms are wrapping around you, his steady heartbeat loud in your ear. "Hank.."
His name, broken and fearful on your tongue, snapped him out of whatever daze he was in. Hanks heart was pounding. His nose found your scalp, the warm smell of your hair wash filling his lungs. Your hormones, your pheromones, the scent of you surrounded him. It was good, felt good, felt warm. He tried to ignore it. One of his hands cradles the back of your head. "shh…I'm here. It's okay, I'm here for you dear."
You sense that he's trying to pull away and your grip tightens. Fingers sinking into corded muscle and fur. He was surprisingly strong under the bulk, a revelation you found oddly comforting. You sniffled into his chest, trying not to cry and failing. "Please don't let go."
He lets you cry, unsure of what to do. How was he supposed to comfort a woman he was infatuated with? What he wanted to do was kiss your tears away, but that was grossly unprofessional and not a thought to ponder on.
He pulls away slightly, petting your hair down. His glasses were slightly crooked when you looked up, wide eyes soft and concerned. Such a gentle look, you sunk into his chest harder. "Let's go lay back down…I'm not going anywhere.
You follow his gentle guiding words, his hands on your lower back pushing you towards the bed. You crawl back in, the blankets kicked around and balled up around you. Hank fixes them as you keep one hand on his shoulder or arm. The fear that he would disappear if you let go was constant. He didn't mind too much (he did, he really truly did but was too polite to say stop).
"Stay. Please." You whisper when he tucks you in.
"In…the bed with you?" Hank questions slowly, his nervousness spiking. You didn't mean that originally but it sounded good once he suggested it, your head nodding incessantly.
"Yes. Please. Hold me for a little bit." You sniffle, wiping your tear streaked cheeks and he obliges. This is what a good doctor would do, he tells himself, knowing that it's a bold face lie. He was doing this for himself, the warm flustered feeling growing back in his chest.
His weight settles behind you, creaking the mattress under his heft. Giant warm arms scoop around you and pull your body into his chest. The thump of his heart greeted your ears with a pleasant steady rhythm, his breathing just the slightest bit shaky. You shut your eyes tight, the weariness slowly fading.
He didn't sleep. Couldn't sleep. How could he with your breath against his chest and your warmth in his arms. He enjoyed it, no doubt, his nose permanently stuck against your hair. But it was the fact he was enjoying it that made it feel so wrong. You needed comfort, safety, a place to rehabilitate. Not to rush into a romantic relationship with a man you knew for barely two months.
But this is what you wanted. So he ceased the endless fighting in his brain, staring lovingly down at your sleeping form and accepted whatever they had for the night. You needed it. You needed him. And he needed you too weirdly enough.