Author's Note: I'm in a Royal Pains Fanfiction mood these days. Idk, this is like, my third in a row.
I'm not really sure of Hank and Evan's age difference, but I gotta say no more than three years. So that's what I'm sticking with for right now. If I missed it (which I doubt I did, since I own season one and have watched its entirety about a dozen times since I bought it last week) message me and tell me? I'm detail orientated like that.
Enjoy the story, please R&R, I'm always up for some good criticism.
I'll Take Care of You
Hank took a wet rag and wiped down the kitchen counter, finishing up his job of cleaning the kitchen after he had made dinner. Well, made Macaroni and Cheese, but hey, he'd learn to cook. In the couple of weeks that he'd taken up new responsibilities, he'd already learned to do the laundry without turning anyone's clothes pink. Miracles could happen.
Clapping his hands together at a job well done, Hank began to walk out of the kitchen when his foot caught and the 15 year old fell forward onto his face.
"Ow…" he groaned. He looked over his shoulder to see a black garbage sitting in the middle of the floor. "Evan…" he rolled his eyes. He picked himself up off the floor and walked out of the kitchen toward the front of the apartment. "Evan, dude, it's your turn to take the trash out," he rounded the hall corner to see what was starting to become a familiar sight.
His little brother, curly haired and dampened blue eyes, was leaning against the front door, sobbing. Hank let out a long sigh that physically made his body droop. Ever since Eddie R. Lawson marched out of the apartment with 2 bags in hand 2 weeks ago, Evan had sat as loyally as a lonely puppy, throwing fits and insisting that their father would walk through the door again and make everything better. But no matter how hard Hank tried, he couldn't get the 12 year old to leave the door.
"Ev…" Hank tried slowly.
"Yea, I can do the trash Hank…" his brother's voice said hoarsely. Hey, your voice would be out too if you'd been crying and screaming at the door for a couple of weeks too.
"Well, it nearly killed me…" Hank said. His brother nodded, but made no move to get up and take care of it. Hank sighed and joined his brother on the floor, sitting with him face to face and Indian-style.
"Evan," Hank started seriously.
"Don't say it Henry," Evan's voice squeaked.
"He's not coming back Evan," Hank continued.
"YES HE IS!" Evan screamed, beginning another round of sobbing against the door. Hank sighed and reached out to rest his hand on his brother's shoulder. But Evan flinched away.
Giving up for yet another evening, Hank stood up and took care of the garbage himself. When he was done, he headed back toward his bedroom. But he made a quick stop before beginning to get ready.
"Mom?" Hank looked into his parents'…mother's…bedroom. But she wasn't there. Behind a closed door that led to a bathroom, Hank heard his mother coughing. "Mom," he opened the door to reveal another becoming-familiar sight. His mother was crouched over the toilet; her head in the bowl, couching up was Hank knew was vomit. She was on a new medicine regime and it wasn't reacting well with her body. Hank knelt next to his mother.
"Hank, honey, I'm fine," she tried to shoo him off, but Hank merely shook his head and held back her curly brown hair as the nausea set in again.
After about 15 minutes, she told Hank she was sure she was done. He silently helped her up and brought her to her bedroom.
"Not here sweetheart," his mother said as they approached the bed. "I'll sleep on the couch…"
"Mom, you can't sleep on the couch," Hank said, still leading her to bed, supporting most of her weight now. "I'll stay here with you tonight okay?" she nodded and he got her to lie down on the sheets. "Let me just change and I'll be right back." Hank kissed the top of his mother's head and then rushed to his room and threw on a pair of basketball shorts. Then he went to the hall closet and grabbed a couple towels and a bucket to put by his mother's bedside.
As he closed the closet door and got a glimpse of the front door, hank saw Evan asleep with his face pressed up against the hardwood of the door. "Ev…" Hank put the bucket down and went to his brother. Thank god the kid was light; Hank lifted him off the ground and carried him to their room, removing his shoes and jeans before tucking him into the lower bunk (which was actually Hank's) of their bed. "Night Evan," Hank kissed the top of his little brother's head and then went back to his mother.
Exhausted, he placed the towels and bucket beside his mother's side of the bed and then climbed in next to her. She was resting peacefully, and finally Hank fell asleep the second before his head even hit the pillow.
"Hank…" a whispering voice caused Hank to snap his eyes open. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Beside him, his mother was shivering slightly. He took the comforter off the foot of the bed and threw it over her. Then he looked at the door, where a tall, lanky 12 year old was peeking in. "Hank… are you awake?" he asked.
"Yea Evan, what's up?" Hank looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 3 am.
"Can't sleep…" Evan rocked on his feet. Hank waved him over and then scooted closer to the end of the bed so that Evan could lie between himself and their mother. "Thanks," Evan said.
"No problem, why can't you sleep?" Hank asked.
"Nightmare," Evan said, closing his eyes. His body faced Hank, and the older brother rubbed his little brother's arm comfortingly.
"Aw, Ev, giant spiders?" Evan's face scowled, but he shook his head no. "Then what's up buddy?" It was quiet for a moment before Evan opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder.
"Why are you in here?" he asked, changing the subject. Hank sighed and sat up on one elbow.
"Mom didn't feel good, I'm just taking care of her," Hank said.
"Oh," Evan said. Another pause, and then "Hank, is mom going to die?" Hank just blinked at his brother. He hadn't even thought to the future. He just tried to get his mom and brother through each day one at a time.
"I'm sure she'll get better Evan," Hank lied. What was he supposed to say? The kid just woke up from nightmares. He wasn't about to tell his little brother that, yes, he was sure that their mother's sickness was leading the way to a shortened life.
"Oh, okay," Evan said and then he closed his eyes again. Hank had a feeling that Evan knew he was lying, but he didn't say a word.
"Hey Hank," Evan said again.
"Yea Evan?" He loved his brother, but seriously, they had to get up for school in a few hours.
"Dad's not coming back…is he?" Hank opened his eyes to stare right into Evan's steel blue ones.
"No buddy," Hank said sternly.
"Oh," Evan blinked a couple of times. They were quiet and Hank wondered if Evan would start to cry again. But he didn't. He looked over his shoulder to their mother and then back to Hank.
"What are we going to do?" He asked.
"We'll take care of Mom, go to school, and not go to jail…" Hank smiled slightly. "I'm almost 16; I can handle a lot of my own stuff…"
"Who's going to take care of me?" Evan asked, his voice sounding very very small. Hank finally realized what Evan's nightmare was about.
"I'll take care of you Evan, you know that?" Hank scooted forward and wrapped his arm around Evan, pulling him to his chest. "I'll protect you from the bullies at school and from the nightmares at night…"
"And the giant spiders?" Evan asked.
"Dude, it was just a movie…" Hank chuckled. But he felt Evan scowl again. "Yea, and the giant spiders too."
"Thanks Hank," Evan said.
"Anytime Ev," Hank replied. His eyes were getting droopy again, and just as they closed, and his grip around his brother loosened, Evan spoke up one last time.
"Hey Hank?" Hank sighed.
"Yea Evan?"
"If you're taking care of Mom and the house and me…" Evan paused. "Who's taking care of you?" Hank didn't reply, but the idea struck him. He wasn't entirely sure of the answer, actually.
As the boys drifted to an uneasy sleep, Evan said one last thing that his conscious brain could handle. "I'll take care of you Henry."