Re: Alex/Hank - role reversal
anonymous
December 11 2011, 07:55:43 UTC
This isn't for sure and may take a while either way, but I'm thinking about filling this since I have a few ideas I want to play around with. OP, I took your prompt to mean that you didn't have a lot of specifications about the meat of the story, am I wrong? My idea has Alex as a general loner with a few strong friendships (cough Sean and Darwin cough) while Hank enters the story/their American high school as a younger star athlete. Does that work?
If there are any objections (for now, specifically about: a possible minor age-difference thing, potential homophobia and Alex/other(s)), I'd really like to know before I start really planning this out and writing this. :)
Re: Alex/Hank - role reversal
anonymous
December 15 2011, 15:46:28 UTC
I absolutely have no issues with whatever it is you can come up with if you ever do write the fic, I just really want a Hank/Alex role reversal. :) Thanks!
FILL: Running Uphill, 1a/?
anonymous
December 14 2011, 02:19:39 UTC
hope this is something like what OP asked for When Hank gets home he finds a note in his mother’s loopy, scrawling script stuck to the refrigerator with a flower-shaped magnet. It reads:
Honey - How was practice? Run fast, run hard. Quinoa salad inside. Be back late. Don’t wait up. - Mom
He sighs, dumps his book-laden backpack on the tiled floor of the kitchen and crumples the note in his hand before tossing it into the disposal. Practice had been unusually brutal today - two hours of warming up, drilling, and then an endurance run in the lingering summer heat. It felt like early August but was actually late September. One kid threw up at the end of practice, hunched over the green because he hadn’t wanted to get the track dirty, until he was just dry-heaving. Coach Lensherr had smirked, clapped the kid on the back and said, “First time’s the worst.” And then he had set everyone free to do whatever it was teenagers did on Friday nights, with the threat of Sunday morning cross-country practice looming over their heads. Hank opens
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 1b/?
anonymous
December 14 2011, 02:20:59 UTC
They talk about Angel’s dick of an ex-boyfriend, about how Coach Lensherr and Mr. Xavier aren’t fooling anyone, about college next year and applications, while rock music plays softly in the background. They’re in Hank’s bedroom, because he doesn’t want the weed stinking up the rest of the house, bodies somehow arranged in a sort-of-circle beside his oversized bed.
“Dude,” Sean says sometime between the hours of ten and eleven. “You’ve got a sick sound system,” slow and drawn-out and definitely high.
Hank smiles to himself. He gets the feeling that nothing they ever talk about is important, but there’s nothing else to talk about, anyway.
x Sunday’s cross-country practice is a breeze. Coach Lensherr goes easy on them, in part, Hank thinks, because that kid who threw up shows up with his dad in tow, and Lensherr does this thing before he calls out drills that looks like a mini-seizure but is really just a way to get out a sudden wave of frustration. Hank knows; he’s been on the cross-country team since freshman year. Then, suddenly
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 1c/?
anonymous
December 14 2011, 02:22:48 UTC
It clicks. Alex…Sumners? Summer. Summers. Alex Summers. His only real memory of him has been from the first week of school, when Alex had crashed through the door of their AP level Physics classroom, just moments after the bell rang, a little out of breath. Hank had quickly catalogued him - blonde hair, blue eyes, square jaw and fit. Baseball, maybe. New, definitely. It was senior year, and North Hills was not known for last minute transfers. Hank had known almost everyone in the entire senior class since elementary school, except for Angel, who had whirl-winded her way into eighth grade, hailing from Los Angeles. All eyes turned to the new kid, who hovered uncertainly by the door before mumbling, “Sorry. Couldn’t find the classroom,” and striding purposefully to the back of the room to Mr. Shaw’s raised eyebrow.
“I’ll excuse your tardiness this once,” Mr. Shaw had announced. “Mr…?” “Summers,” he finished for him. “Alex Summers.” Shaw nodded, marked him ‘present.’ The boy had planted himself into an empty seat in the
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 1d/?
anonymous
December 14 2011, 02:24:47 UTC
Even after all this time, it’s still weird that Raven is Mr. Xavier’s younger sister - adopted, whatever, but still. They’re on their way to room 204 - Raven looking particularly attractive today in a tight skirt that can’t possibly be dress-code - and Raven’s saying, “-and he didn’t get home Saturday night until, like, one in the morning with this hugely stupid grin and when I asked what was up he was all, ‘Oh nothing, dear sister. Why aren’t you in bed, yet?’ And I was like, ‘I’m seventeen, what seventeen year old goes to bed before three on the weekends?’ and he didn’t even bat an eyelash. I’m telling you, something is definitely up, and I’m going to find proof.”
Hank says, “What are you going to do with said proof?” with a well-placed grin of his own.
“Mock him endlessly.”
“Don’t you do that already?” Raven shoots him a pointed glare but then they cross the threshold of room 204 and into the classroom, and the hush that falls makes even Hank start. It’s always strange walking into Shaw’s room, which he conducts with frightening
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 1e/?
anonymous
December 14 2011, 02:25:33 UTC
“I didn’t move,” comes Alex’s reply, which is a bit of a surprise, because if Alex didn’t move, this means he was, ah, forcibly transferred to North Hills. “I still live in South Hills,” he finishes, confirming Hank’s original guess, anyway.
“So, then,” Hank starts, searching, even though he already suspects what this kid’s deal is. “Why aren’t you at South Hills High?”
Alex gives him a look like are you fucking serious, and Hank realizes that no one has given him this look since maybe the sixth grade, and it had been Raven, who doesn’t really count because she’s the only person who ever calls him out on shit. It almost makes Hank want to back off, now that Alex’s face has changed into all hard lines and a scowl. But he doesn’t. He waits, and Alex responds in a whisper, “I was expelled,” but says no more. Hank nods, yeah that’s what he had thought, and pulls out his own scratch sheet of paper and sets to work on the problems on the whiteboard. Mr. Shaw is seated behind his desk, and he reaches out his hand to start the timer that
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 1f/?
anonymous
December 14 2011, 02:26:36 UTC
Hank turns, bright smile in place. “Sorry, Mr. Shaw. Alex was just helping me.”
Shaw leans forward, putting his elbows on his desk. “Was he, now?” he asks in a way that makes it not really a question at all. The timer flashes zero. “Then he wouldn’t mind showing the class how he solved number seven?” He picks a question that he knows most of the students haven’t had a chance to get to yet. Hank looks at Alex’s paper; his handwriting is neat and concise, and in the left margin he’s got all the problems listed, one through ten. And they’re all done.
Alex grumbles as he rises from his seat, taking his sheet with him and pausing to shoot Hank a mean look, but Hank just shrugs and mouths, sorry. He watches as Alex picks up the red marker and starts to write a series of numbers and formulas on the board under number seven. He caps the marker and turns around, facing the class. “Uh,” he begins, uncapping and capping the marker in one hand. “I got 4.8 meters per second-squared. And here’s how I did it.” He gestures behind him
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 2a/?
anonymous
December 15 2011, 13:46:02 UTC
At lunch, Raven and Angel pounce on his choice of desk-buddy during Physics class. They sit on either side of him, lunch trays pounding onto the table almost simultaneously, effectively caging him in. Sean and Bobby and John join them on the other side of the long table. It’s the best table, really, right in the middle of the action of the cafeteria.
“What’s the deal?” Raven begins, waving a fry around in the air. “Is this like a pet project you’re taking on? Because we know how well the last one went.” Angel removes the meat of her hamburger and slathers on ketchup before putting a handful of fries in between the buns instead. “Crazy bitch,” she murmurs, remembering how Hank had thought he saw something in Marie, a freshman at the time when they had all been juniors, last year, and tried to push her to the top of their school’s social hierarchy, perhaps as a future queen bee to rule in his stead. She turned out to have a slight psychotic streak though, and was still under observation in North Hills Hospital’s psych ward after
( ... )
Re: FILL: Running Uphill, 2b/?
anonymous
December 15 2011, 13:47:27 UTC
“Maybe I want his help with physics. Did you see Shaw have an aneurism when he answered his problem?”
Raven scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Help with physics.”
“Just, you know,” Sean says, pointing now. “Keep your phone on you when you’re with him. He really freaks me out.”
Hank agrees to do so, and they let it drop, choosing to talk about more exciting things - like when the next party’s going to be, and who will be invited, and how ugly the cheerleaders’ uniforms are, this year. Hank thinks about Alex’s glaring blue eyes; he probably could have been popular, just based upon his looks, if he weren’t so quiet and aloof and sullen all the time. First he’s got to get Alex to like him, and then maybe Hank can figure out what he can use him for.
x The week passes quickly. Their high school operates on a block schedule - to, presumably, better prepare the kids for what a college schedule would look like - so they’ve got physics two more times that week, and Hank chooses to sit next to Alex to Sean’s unnecessarily worried glances and Raven’s
( ... )
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If there are any objections (for now, specifically about: a possible minor age-difference thing, potential homophobia and Alex/other(s)), I'd really like to know before I start really planning this out and writing this. :)
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When Hank gets home he finds a note in his mother’s loopy, scrawling script stuck to the refrigerator with a flower-shaped magnet. It reads:
Honey -
How was practice? Run fast, run hard.
Quinoa salad inside.
Be back late. Don’t wait up. - Mom
He sighs, dumps his book-laden backpack on the tiled floor of the kitchen and crumples the note in his hand before tossing it into the disposal. Practice had been unusually brutal today - two hours of warming up, drilling, and then an endurance run in the lingering summer heat. It felt like early August but was actually late September. One kid threw up at the end of practice, hunched over the green because he hadn’t wanted to get the track dirty, until he was just dry-heaving. Coach Lensherr had smirked, clapped the kid on the back and said, “First time’s the worst.” And then he had set everyone free to do whatever it was teenagers did on Friday nights, with the threat of Sunday morning cross-country practice looming over their heads.
Hank opens ( ... )
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“Dude,” Sean says sometime between the hours of ten and eleven. “You’ve got a sick sound system,” slow and drawn-out and definitely high.
Hank smiles to himself. He gets the feeling that nothing they ever talk about is important, but there’s nothing else to talk about, anyway.
x
Sunday’s cross-country practice is a breeze. Coach Lensherr goes easy on them, in part, Hank thinks, because that kid who threw up shows up with his dad in tow, and Lensherr does this thing before he calls out drills that looks like a mini-seizure but is really just a way to get out a sudden wave of frustration. Hank knows; he’s been on the cross-country team since freshman year. Then, suddenly ( ... )
Reply
“I’ll excuse your tardiness this once,” Mr. Shaw had announced. “Mr…?”
“Summers,” he finished for him. “Alex Summers.” Shaw nodded, marked him ‘present.’ The boy had planted himself into an empty seat in the ( ... )
Reply
Hank says, “What are you going to do with said proof?” with a well-placed grin of his own.
“Mock him endlessly.”
“Don’t you do that already?”
Raven shoots him a pointed glare but then they cross the threshold of room 204 and into the classroom, and the hush that falls makes even Hank start. It’s always strange walking into Shaw’s room, which he conducts with frightening ( ... )
Reply
“So, then,” Hank starts, searching, even though he already suspects what this kid’s deal is. “Why aren’t you at South Hills High?”
Alex gives him a look like are you fucking serious, and Hank realizes that no one has given him this look since maybe the sixth grade, and it had been Raven, who doesn’t really count because she’s the only person who ever calls him out on shit. It almost makes Hank want to back off, now that Alex’s face has changed into all hard lines and a scowl. But he doesn’t. He waits, and Alex responds in a whisper, “I was expelled,” but says no more.
Hank nods, yeah that’s what he had thought, and pulls out his own scratch sheet of paper and sets to work on the problems on the whiteboard. Mr. Shaw is seated behind his desk, and he reaches out his hand to start the timer that ( ... )
Reply
Shaw leans forward, putting his elbows on his desk. “Was he, now?” he asks in a way that makes it not really a question at all. The timer flashes zero. “Then he wouldn’t mind showing the class how he solved number seven?” He picks a question that he knows most of the students haven’t had a chance to get to yet. Hank looks at Alex’s paper; his handwriting is neat and concise, and in the left margin he’s got all the problems listed, one through ten. And they’re all done.
Alex grumbles as he rises from his seat, taking his sheet with him and pausing to shoot Hank a mean look, but Hank just shrugs and mouths, sorry. He watches as Alex picks up the red marker and starts to write a series of numbers and formulas on the board under number seven. He caps the marker and turns around, facing the class. “Uh,” he begins, uncapping and capping the marker in one hand. “I got 4.8 meters per second-squared. And here’s how I did it.” He gestures behind him ( ... )
Reply
Reply
“What’s the deal?” Raven begins, waving a fry around in the air. “Is this like a pet project you’re taking on? Because we know how well the last one went.”
Angel removes the meat of her hamburger and slathers on ketchup before putting a handful of fries in between the buns instead. “Crazy bitch,” she murmurs, remembering how Hank had thought he saw something in Marie, a freshman at the time when they had all been juniors, last year, and tried to push her to the top of their school’s social hierarchy, perhaps as a future queen bee to rule in his stead. She turned out to have a slight psychotic streak though, and was still under observation in North Hills Hospital’s psych ward after ( ... )
Reply
Raven scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Help with physics.”
“Just, you know,” Sean says, pointing now. “Keep your phone on you when you’re with him. He really freaks me out.”
Hank agrees to do so, and they let it drop, choosing to talk about more exciting things - like when the next party’s going to be, and who will be invited, and how ugly the cheerleaders’ uniforms are, this year. Hank thinks about Alex’s glaring blue eyes; he probably could have been popular, just based upon his looks, if he weren’t so quiet and aloof and sullen all the time. First he’s got to get Alex to like him, and then maybe Hank can figure out what he can use him for.
x
The week passes quickly. Their high school operates on a block schedule - to, presumably, better prepare the kids for what a college schedule would look like - so they’ve got physics two more times that week, and Hank chooses to sit next to Alex to Sean’s unnecessarily worried glances and Raven’s ( ... )
Reply
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