A/N: I noticed there aren't many stories showing Hank's softer side. So here you go. Currently just a one-shot. Takes place at beginning of Season 4.
Hank Voight pulled into the driveway and tensed when he saw a shadowy figure perched on the porch steps of his house.
He cautiously exited his SUV and approached the stairs. That's when he noticed who it was.
"What do you want, Kate?" Hank asked the dark-haired woman he hadn't seen in years.
Kate Rumlow stood and stretched, not answering.
Hank brushed past her and unlocked the front door.
She followed him in.
"I'll ask you again, what do you want, Kate?" he growled, turning toward her.
Kate shrugged.
"Felt like you needed a friend," she flippantly replied.
Worried about his friend's mental health, Al Olinsky had called her with the news about Justin's death and Olive's decision to leave with Daniel. She had packed up her laptop, thrown some clothes into a duffle, jumped into her old pickup, and driven two days straight to reach Chicago.
Hank narrowed his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment.
Kate leaned in to kiss him and he started to step back when she caught the back of his neck to keep him where he was.
When her lips met his, he resisted for a fraction of a second before roughly yanking her to him and grounding his lips on hers.
Kate had missed this. Apparently Hank had too.
He pushed her up against the front door and caged her in, every hard inch of him pressing against her. The heat rose between them, their mouths dueling as hands roamed.
She unbuckled his belt as he unbuttoned her shirt, and Kate broke the kiss long enough to ask if they were going to do this standing up or laying down.
Hank's response was to slide his hands down her backside and lift her up and carry her upstairs to his bedroom.
Stripped bare, Kate welcomed Hank into her arms. He covered her body with his and thrust deep.
He wasted no time pounding her into the bed and she willingly let him. It was as if they were teenage lovers again.
Neither spoke; her moans and his grunts were the only noises filling the air. That was until Hank found his release and hissed her name. Kate cried out his name shortly after as her body fisted his.
He eventually collapsed beside her, wrapping his strong arms around her, pulling her back to his chest. That's how they fell asleep.
Kate was rather surprised to wake before dawn and find Hank still in bed. He rarely slept the whole night through even when they were young.
He was looking at her when she cracked open her eyes, his morning erection pressed against her thigh.
"What do you want, Kate?" Hank asked, his gravelly voice an octave lower.
Kate closed her eyes and sighed.
"Nothing, Hank. I don't want any money, I'm not here to roll you for intel, and I don't care if you're breaking the law or playing by the book. I'm just here," she replied.
He had forgotten that she knew him and his suspicious mind. She had been his first love before her father's job moved her and her family to Texas.
She reopened her eyes and gazed into his.
"I'm sorry about Justin," she whispered.
The last time she'd seen Hank was at Camille's funeral. She knew Justin had been in trouble and that he'd been trying to get his life turned around.
She had kept her distance all these years, knowing that Hank had really loved Camille.
One time when she was in Chicago for a writer's conference she had run into Hank and Al; Al had quickly picked up on the fact there was history between her and Hank. He had casually lifted one of her business cards and had been the one to call her when Camille died.
Hank had been aloof and distance with her then, wounded by his wife's death and struggling to be strong for both his son and foster daughter.
She reached out and fingered his stubbled jaw. His gaze softened and she glimpsed into his soul, the side of him he rarely shared with anyone.
He caught her hand and kissed it before gently easing her onto her back.
This time the lovemaking was much more tender as their bodies rocked together.
When Kate woke later that morning, Hank had already left for work.
Hank wandered into the station, greeting Trudy Platt as he walked by the front desk.
"Did you run over a bad guy or something?" Trudy questioned, noting Hank's almost jovial spirit.
Hank pursed his lips and shook his head.
"Nope," he said as he ascended the stairs to the cage.
Trudy frowned at his retreating back.
Hank slapped Adam Ruzek on the shoulder as he passed, startling the young cop.
"What's up with you?" Al asked his oldest friend, lifting his coffee mug in greeting from the couch, as Hank strode into his office and hung up his leather jacket.
Hank gave him a half-smile.
"Kate's back," he replied.
Al arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
Hank rolled his eyes. He knew Al was the one who had tipped Kate off about recent events.
When Hank arrived home that evening, he found Kate perched on the porch—again—in the shadows. He was glad she had stuck around; they hadn't discussed if she was leaving or staying.
"You have access to the house," he commented as he climbed the steps.
Kate smiled at him.
"I know. I was just enjoying the night air," she sassily replied. "Dinner is on the stove."
Hank smirked at her.
They didn't talk about whatever this was.
A couple of weeks drifted by as Hank caught a case that kept him busy for three days without nary a break. Kate busied herself with her freelance work online and kept to herself for the most part.
But she always slept in Hank's bed.