Happy New Year, 2023!

This wasn't supposed to become a thing, but three fics later...it's now a thing. Enjoy your Hankins.

If you enjoy this work, please review!

Thank you for reading,

Much love!


There's someone out there for everyone. That's how the saying goes, but it had never been true for Hank. Soulmates had always been touted as the big thing. You mustn't get into a relationship expecting it to last if you weren't soulmates. The moment true love struck, they'd leave. Hank never used to believe it. He knew finding your soulmate was supposed to be a wonderful thing. His parents were proof enough of that, but after forty years of being alone and never finding the one, Hank had settled. He met a woman. Evelyn Parker. A thirty-eight-year-old in the same boat he was. Bitter and alone. Tired of waiting for true love's call.

They fell in love, after a fashion. Looking back, it was easy to live in bitterness and say she'd never loved him, but he knew that wasn't true. She'd loved him, and he'd loved her, just not enough to survive the strike of true love when it finally fell. The moment she touched that cashier's hand, their marriage was over. He remembered how it felt, seeing the golden glitter on her fingers when he got home. It had taken less than a month for her to leave him, despite the vows they'd taken. She'd left and taken their son with her.

She wasn't unreasonable. The divorce, like so many others, had been declared no fault by the state. It wasn't her fault she found her soulmate and broke their vows, and it wasn't Hank's fault. They'd both married knowing this could happen. Everything split down the middle, including time with Cole. Despite the lingering pain and bitterness, it had been amicable to the end. It's just a shame that end came in the form of a fatal car accident that took them both.

The bottom line is, Hank had always had shitty luck. He wasn't looking for love, and he didn't expect to find it. He didn't even want to find it. What would his soulmate think if they saw him as he was now? A washed up has been who couldn't even do their job. He didn't turn up on time; he didn't give it his all, he just didn't care. At least, he hadn't cared last week. This week there was Connor. The android sent by Cyberlife to be a thorn in his side until the end. He was so innocent and childlike, a lot like Cole. He even had the same stupid head tilt when he was confused. It was painful to see what his son might have been.

Connor had barrelled into his life and made him care about something. He cared about Connor and wanted to help him complete his mission. In the back of his mind, of course, he hoped Connor would change his mind when he finally met his people and had the chance to deviate himself. The signs were all there. All he needed was a little push. A push Hank couldn't give, but that other guy, that Markus, he might. Desperate for a last look in the evidence locker before the FBI took it all away, Hank formed a plan.

"Alright, Con, you get down there and do what you can. I'll keep the FBI busy for a while." Connor's hazel eyes lit up with gratitude he shouldn't be capable of, and he got to his feet, ready to go. Hank huffed fondly, committing each detail to memory. This could well be the last time they met. He wanted to remember that goofy smile, the stupid curl in his brunette hair, and the way hisclean cut grey suit sat on his shoulders. He straightened his charcoal tie out of habit, stealing a glance at the group of suited men coming out of Flower's office.

"Thank you, Hank! I really appreciate it, but how are you going to-"

"Don't you worry about that, now go on! Don't forget the ID card." Connor gave him a final, hurried nod before grabbing the card and walking off. With a final chuckle, Hank turned towards the office, where Richard Perkins was walking down the steps like the cat who got the cream. The ferret who got the coney, more like! He really was a stoat of a man. The thin cheeks, the pointy nose, the beady eyes; truly despicable. It didn't help that he was an unlikeable asshole. He'd been curt and rude to both him and Connor during their prior meeting at Stratford tower, and he was being a smug asshole now. He looked arrogant; lips curled in a smirk as he ordered his men to get started with downloading the files from their computers. Seeing him alone, Hank took his chance.

"Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!" Richard looked somewhat bewildered as he stormed towards him and drew his fist back, ready to strike. It probably was a little unreasonable. He was taking their case, sure, but he was only doing his job. If it hadn't been to provide cover for Connor, he wouldn't even bother throwing hands. He couldn't deny throwing the punch felt good though. The little shit had been way too gleeful about screwing them over, and calling him incompetent to boot! So what if it was true? He was turning over a new leaf these days. A surprised grunt of pain fled Richard's lips on impact, sending him stumbling back into the stairs leading to Fowler's office. Hearing the commotion, Fowler himself had come outside, looking bewildered as he leaned on the banister staring at him as if he'd gone mad.

His plan had been to pin Richard to the nearest wall and wail on him a little more. He was going to beat the little shit until someone pulled him off, probably getting himself fired in the process, and give Connor as long as possible. Instead, his fist connected with Richard's nose and a shower of glitter spawned between them. The young officer running to pull him off barely needed to grip his shoulder to hold him back he was too stunned. His lips trembled, brow furrowing in shock and disbelief as he stared at the mixture of blood and gold on Richard's face.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You?" Hank remained flabbergasted as he looked down at his sore knuckles to find the skin had turned gold and glittery, like he'd painted the skin with sparkly paint. Richard didn't seem to realise at first, holding his bleeding nose as he was, but he soon figured it out as he caught sight of Hank cradling his gold smeared hand. He cursed under his breath, wincing and accepting the tissues that Officer Chen offered him with mumbled thanks. Hank continued glaring, unable to believe it. Of all the people in the world, it was him? This ferrety asshole?

"Believe me, I'm not thrilled about this either," Richard grumbled as he held his nose, doing his best to keep his head down. It was humiliating. Not only had he been punched in the face, an utterly unprovoked attack, but now there was gold glitter all over his nose, and who knew how long that would be there. He was glad his nose was bleeding, so he had an excuse to keep it covered. They glared at each other, unsure what to do or say. They both knew what was supposed to happen next. Everlasting love and devotion. A force so powerful they'd never be able to part. Hank scoffed at the idea, pushing away the tiny flutter that swirled in the pit of his stomach as their eyes met. So what if his dark eyes were kind of nice? That didn't mean he was going to fall for him. No way. Not a chance. Hell will freeze over first!

"Well, it-uh...It seems you two have a lot to talk about," Fowler piped up as he walked down the steps to join them. He was as surprised as Hank that this had happened. He'd known him for years, and he'd never known him to date men. That his soulmate was Richard Perkins was unexpected, to say the least. If such things could be faked, he'd say they were pulling a prank on him, but the signs were there, clear as day. He didn't know what shit Hank was trying to pull, but that the Connor android was missing didn't pass him by.

"I'll have your fucking badge for this!" Richard groused, clearly feeling sorry for himself as he cursed and held his nose. Officer Chen and another uniformed officer held Hank back as he launched himself a second time, leaving Richard cowering against the stairs. Even Fowler got involve, holding an arm between them to push him back.

"You know where you can stick my fucking badge?" Hank yelled, unsure whether he was angry at Richard for goading him or because they were now stuck together. Permanently. He hated the fact he actually felt bad as Richard gave a pathetic little whimper.

"You broke my fucking nose!" His dark eyes were glittering like he was about to cry. Shit, he's not about to cry, is he? The urge to comfort him was almost overwhelming. Apologies surged to his lips before he quashed them. Like hell he was about to say sorry to that asshole! He clicked his tongue and looked away as he noticed Richard actually was wiping his eyes, and they were getting red around the edges. He's in pain! That's it! He's not crying because he's upset! Despite that, the heat in his chest died to be replaced by the dull ache of remorse.

"I think it would be best if you two went home to...talk things over." It was obvious Fowler wanted them out of his precinct, but Hank grudgingly had to admit he was right. He'd done his job and created a distraction, and if he took Richard home with him, that would give Connor even more time to search the locker. Unfortunately, Richard seemed to disagree, looking at Fowler as if he'd lost his mind.

"Are you fucking insane? He just broke my nose! And you want to send me home with him?" Fowler shrugged. It was the best option as far as he could see. They had a lot to talk about. They'd also had a nasty shock. Finding your soulmate was a once in a lifetime event, the one thing everybody dreamed about. Hank had it rough. He'd tried to make a good life for himself and got burned. Hopefully, things with Richard Perkins would go better. Maybe, unlikely as it seemed, they'd be good for each other. That was usually the case.

"Alright, jeez! I'm sorry I broke your nose!" Hank tugged at the cuffs of his jacket, looking anywhere but his soulmate. He hated that apologising to the little ferret actually felt good. The apology had been trying to push its way out since he first noticed he was fucking crying. Not that he'd admit that, of course. Richard fell silent, surprised by his apologetic outburst. Despite the gruffness of his tone, he could feel the sincerity in his words, and it made his stomach churn. "I promise I won't do it again. Can we go now?" The sooner they left, the sooner they'd stop being stared at. Richard nodded meekly, staring at the floor to avoid those prying eyes. "Halleluiah! Let's fucking go."

Hank led the way through the front doors and down to the parking lot. They didn't talk. Richard was still holding his bleeding nose, and he just didn't know what he was supposed to say. He'd never had so much as a conversation with this man. He knew who he was, of course. Richard Perkins was well known as the hunting dog of the FBI. A relentless jobsworth that was always gunning for a result. He took the shitty cases no one else wanted, getting results where no one else could. His superiors and coworkers hated and respected him in equal measure. He'd climbed the ranks to head his own division and stopped, content to take all the shitty work he was given. He liked a challenge. Guess this will be his biggest challenge yet...

"You drive this?" Richard scoffed in disbelief as he took in the faded grey banger that Hank called a car. It was still running on petrol! No cars ran on petrol these days. It was a manual, too. Richard wasn't sure he trusted it as Hank opened the door, which he had to unlock with the fucking key! A key lock! In 2038!

"If you don't like it, you can walk!" Hank gruffed as he climbed in and started the engine, rubbing and blowing his hands in the icy chill of the November weather. Richard climbed in beside him and buckled up, glad he had an excuse to cover his nose as the scent of stale smoke reached his nose. He was a smoker himself, but the car was saturated like a fucking ashtray! The whole middle section around the gear stick was covered in ash, the tray itself overflowing with used butts. There were at least two empty packets on the floor and another on the dash. The backseat was a mess of old food wrappers from old stakeouts and late nights driving home. There were even empty beer bottles on the floor back there. Not a promising sign.

"When was the last time you cleaned up in here?" Richard had never seen a car like it. The whole thing needed to be scrapped and burned. Hank glared across at him as he pulled out of his space and headed for the main road, prompting Richard to grab the handle above his head. Fuck, the windows are still hand-cranked! There was a little rotary handle that could wind the windows up and down. He hadn't seen that since the early 2000s. Just how old is this heap of junk?

"Been a while..." The low grumble was warning enough, and they fell silent as Hank drove. Richard kept a tight hold on the handle by his head, unwilling to trust Hank's driving. He wasn't breaking the speed limit, but he knew for a fact he'd been drinking. From his reputation, he knew he was always drunk. It had been that way since his son died. It was a well-known story in all local law enforcement circles. Hank Anderson's fall from grace was legendary. A celebrated police lieutenant, the youngest of his time, at the height of his career after a big red ice bust, got screwed over by his wife and then lost her and his son in a car accident. Over the past three years, he'd drunk himself into a pit. He was a washed up has been. A shadow of his former self.

The house he pulled up to was about what he'd expected. A small two-bedroom bungalow. It was a little rundown, but not uncared for. The small lawn was covered by a blanket of snow, but the drive and path to the door had been cleared. Hank opened the door and went in, leaving it open for Richard to follow. Once the door was shut, Richard pressed himself back against it with a gasp as a huge, lumbering hound snuffled its way towards him. The dog was about as tall as his thigh, even on all fours, and it immediately shoved its nose in his crotch as he tried to fend it off.

"Sumo! Down, boy! Don't worry, he doesn't bite," Hank gruffed as he wandered into the cramped kitchen and filled the kettle. Richard swallowed, holding a hand out as he pushed away from the door. Sumo's fluffy tail wagged as he backed up, huffing and drooling happily as he caught Hank's scent on Richard's clothes. A low woof rumbled in his throat as he nosed Richard's hand, ears twitching as he scented the dried blood. Richard huffed softly as that warm, wet tongue lapped his fingers, crouching and ruffling his large, fluffy head.

"Is he a guard dog?" It was hard to believe, considering how dopey he was.

"Fuck no! He's more of a deterrent than anything else. If someone broke in here, he'd probably show them around in exchange for a Bonio!" Hank chuckled under his breath as he set up two cups, unsure what to put in them. Did Richard drink coffee or tea? He didn't have a fucking clue! His mouth went dry the moment he considered asking. Licking his lips, he glanced over his shoulder and swore his insides almost melted as he watched Richard scratching Sumo's large jowls, accepting the drool and headbutts on his expensive coat with an almost affectionate smile. Well, if he likes dogs, he can't be all bad...

"How old is he?" Richard asked, almost falling on his ass as Sumo nudged closer, excitedly wagging his tail. There was silver on his chin, and he was an absolute behemoth, so he knew he must be getting old.

"Eight this year." Hank turned his back to the counter, folding his arms and watching his soulmate as the kettle boiled. It still churned his stomach to think it, but it wasn't so bad. He was actually sort of handsome when he smiled like that. His stubble was growing in a little, but that was probably just from working so many hours. Hank was the same when he was on a case. Personal hygiene took a backseat. There were dark rims beneath his eyes, another sign of working long hours. His skin was a little pale from hours of working indoors, another price of the job. When the case was done and he got to rest up a bit, he'd be good as new. His dark hair was unkempt, swept out of place by the November breeze. It almost matched his dark eyes as they finally looked up, blinking in surprise as he realised he was being watched.

"Well-uh, he's nice." Richard's gaze dropped evasively, the colour in his cheeks suggesting he was a little nervous under the intense stare. Hank's brow furrowed as he noticed him wince, clearly bothered by the pain of his glittering nose. It was probably funny on some level, a real rom-com moment. I met my soulmate getting punched in the nose, now we're getting married in Vegas! Or some shit like that. The gold didn't cover his whole nose, just a patch on the bridge and left side where their skin had touched. The flesh was getting a little puffy and swollen, and a dark patch was creeping up beneath his left eye.

"Come and sit at the table. Do you want tea or coffee?" Hank asked as he turned back to the cups, listening as Richard's expensive shoes clicked on the tiles and a chair scraped as it was pulled out. He could hear him sniffling as he sat down, probably trying to stop the bleeding, and there was a rustle as he pushed his coat off. He was smaller than he seemed in the thick woollen coat. The white shirt was perfectly fitted, revealing small shoulders, a slim figure, and slender arms. He was...tiny. Hank already knew he was almost a foot taller, but seeing him sitting there like that really brought it home. Shit...No wonder he almost rag dolled when I hit him...The thought made him feel even worse.

"Coffee please." His voice was a little thick where his nose was blocked, with just the hint of a whimper at the end. Richard sighed softly as he pulled his FBI lanyard off and put it in his pocket. He didn't like to wear it when he wasn't working. He also loosened his tie, feeling hot and constricted as he looked at Hank's back. The man was fucking huge! He knew he was tall, but seeing him leaning over the counter, reaching up to the top shelf for the coffee granules, made him seem even taller. He was also broad, with arms that could wrap around him snug and tight. Shaking his head, he shoved the thought down. That sort of thing didn't happen to him. Wouldn't happen.

Without his leather coat, which had been hooked over the back of a kitchen chair, Richard was faced with Hank's unique sense of fashion. The shirt he was wearing looked like it had come straight out of the eighties. It was thick cotton, mostly black, with white zebra stripes running down the front. It rested low on his hips and bulged a little at the front, where his stomach pushed out. He wasn't exactly fat, but he certainly had a gut from all the beer and burgers. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, a contrast to his own usually slick look. He also had thick grey whiskers, a little bushy, but not completely wild. He clearly kept them trimmed.

"Here." Richard accepted the mug that was placed before him, wrapping his hands around it and shivering a little. The house was small and cold. Hank clearly didn't turn on the heating too often, despite the weather. He wasn't home much, and Sumo's fur kept him warm enough. The shiver wasn't lost on Hank, despite that fact that he tried to stay still in his seat and didn't make a fuss. Without a word, Hank headed down the hall to get the first aid kit from the bathroom. On the way, he stopped to open the hall cupboard and turn on the heating. Being so much smaller, and not having a sweater, he was pretty sure Richard needed it.

By the time he returned, Richard was taking his first small sip of coffee as Sumo sat beside him with his large head on his thigh. Soft brown eyes gazed up at him, silently requesting any pats that were on offer, and keeping him warm. Richard answered the request with gentle strokes, a very small smile pulling his lips as he teased Sumo's floppy ears. Hank paused in the hall, stealing a few quiet moments to watch his soulmate. It still felt outlandish to think it. My soulmate. Someone up there was having one hell of a laugh. He couldn't think of anyone more ill-suited. They were polar opposites.

Richard was a lean, mean, clean-cut guy with a promising career, and he was a lazy, delinquent has been who was probably out of a job. Richard wore tailored suits that clung to every curve, rich and expensive. He wore crazy silk shirts, denim, and leather. Richard clearly did some level of exercise and took care of himself. He looked like he hadn't seen a treadmill in years, which he hadn't. As an FBI agent, Richard was obviously well educated. He'd gone straight to the academy and picked up what he knew from working the beat. It wasn't quite a Cinderella story, but they didn't exactly go together.

"Here, let me see your nose." Hank dragged his chair closer and sat, opening the kit on the table and grabbing a disinfectant wipe. He didn't really need to disinfect it, but the wipe was at least wet as he dabbed the crusting skin beneath his nose. Richard tensed, barely taking a breath as Hank gripped his stubbled chin in one hand and leaned right up to his face. His chair scraped closer, so close that he'd slotted their legs together and his crotch was almost touching his knee. The warmth of his body washed over him, making him hot under the collar. He was so gentle as he wiped his lips and chin clean, blue eyes squinting to check for any blood he'd missed as he cleaned his nose.

"Agh-fuck!" Richard's dark eyes squeezed shut as Hank moved to cup his cheeks with rough, aged hands, thumbs ghosting over his swollen nose. His touch was light at first, checking for any obvious signs of a break. It was promising that there were none. There was sore, puffy skin, but no obvious lumps. Hank held his cheeks a little tighter before he explored properly, knowing Richard would flinch and pull away if he didn't.

"It's not too bad...Hold still, I need to check properly." As a lieutenant, he was trained in emergency first aid, and having been on the force as long as he had, he knew what a broken nose felt like. Gavin alone had given him enough practice at that. Richard was a worse patient than Gavin, hissing and whining as he pressed his thumbs on either side of his nose and felt the bone. Pushing back and forth, the bone didn't move. Rubbing up and down, he didn't find any obvious cracks or fragments. He almost smiled as Richard's hands reached up and gripped his arms, legs closing on his knee as he tensed and whined. Cute...He shook the thought off with a cough, releasing his cheeks and sitting back. "It's not broken, just a little swollen." That was a relief.

"Fuck, small mercies..." Richard sighed, covering his nose and closing his eyes as the throbbing lessened. It didn't go away, but at least his nose wasn't being squeezed anymore. It felt a lot colder when Hank got to his feet and crossed to the freezer to grab a packet of peas and another of broccoli. Wrapping the peas in a raggedy tea towel, he handed them to Richard.

"Hold it on there for the swelling," he gruffed as he sat down and rested his own hand on the broccoli. His knuckles weren't as swollen as Richard's golden nose, but they were still tender. Richard did as he was told, hissing and whimpering, clearly feeling sorry for himself. Hank felt sorry for him, too. He hadn't factored in his much smaller size while lining up that punch. He had to be about a hundred and forty pounds! It was lucky he hadn't snapped in two!

"I should have your badge for this," Richard grumbled, voice muffled by the peas as he searched for his phone and turned on the camera.

"Should?" Richard glowered a moment before looking at his phone instead. He grimaced in something skin to disgust as he turned his head this way and that, taking in the golden glitter, puffy swelling, and the purple ring growing under his eye.

"I look like a fucking clown!" Hank wasn't sure it was the glitter that bothered him as he tossed the phone down and buried his nose in the peas again. It didn't take Sumo long to rear his head again, panting happily as Richard rested a hand on his head. Hank tried not to smirk as he hid his mouth behind his cup.

"Clowns have red noses." The click of Richard's tongue was enough to tell him he was unimpressed. His lips pursed, making him look like an angry ferret. "You look more like a ferret who's been putting his nose in all the wrong places." Hank gave a deep chuckle as Richard tapped his foot beneath the table, watching his cheeks heat in embarrassment. He probably got a lot of rodent jokes. He couldn't be the only one who thought he looked ferrety.

"I can't believe it's you...Of all the fucking people!" That makes two of us. What had drawn them together, he couldn't even guess. There always seemed to be some grand, cosmic scheme for soulmates. Miller and his wife fit together as young lovebirds do. Fowler and his wife were absolutely charming together. Every couple he'd ever seen, including his wife, looked like two halves of the same coin. Here, it seemed something had gone wrong at the mint. There were so many ways they didn't fit. Class, education, sex, fashion, work ethic, and there was a ten-year age gap to boot!

"Seems like the cosmos is having a joke at our expense, huh?" Richard nodded his agreement as he finally lowered the peas. His nose was throbbing a lot less, and it was nicely numbed from the cold. He was still feeling a little sorry for himself. There was no reason for Hank to punch him in the face. He was only doing his job. His stomach fluttered as he caught Hank watching him with an almost foreign warmth in his aged blue eyes. Fuck. They didn't have a choice, did they? He could already feel it. The pull on his heartstrings.

The small house was starting to feel warmer, and not just because the heating had been put on. It was homely. There was a sense of belonging he knew shouldn't be there. He never warmed to new places. The nights he spent in hotels were always restless, leaving him tossing and turning until morning. He was constantly alert for signs of intruders, always looking over his shoulder. In Hank's home, he felt safe. It was like being in his own apartment, only better, because he wasn't alone in Hank's house. He had his soulmate and his dog.

"Look, I'm not...My parents were mechanical soulmates." Hank's brow creased in sympathy. That was rough and probably explained his own mismatched connection. Mechanical soulmates were forced together, but never felt that unbridled pull of lust and love. In fact, it often went the other way. From the stiffness in Richard's shoulders and the dark look in his eyes, Hank assumed the latter. "I don't imagine this is going to end well..." That pissed him off. So, just because his parents had a shitty relationship, they couldn't have something nice? Just because they didn't match like everyone else, it was going to lead to a life of pain and abuse? Fuck that shit!

"Says who? Have you been diagnosed?" As far as Hank knew, the mechanical phenomenon wasn't passed down genetically. True, it was so rare that very little research had been conducted, but because it was so rare, the chances of it happening from one generation to the next were quite slim. Richard pursed his lips, cradling the warm mug between his hands and staring at the glittering surface.

"You can't be diagnosed until you meet your soulmate." No one knew how it worked exactly, but any symptoms brought on by being bonded only happened after the bonding itself. Hank shrugged as he drank his coffee, letting his knee rest against Richard's as he sat back. The contact warmed him. It also meant something to him that Richard didn't pull away.

"Well, then we'll get tested." That would settle the issue. Richard's shoulders loosened a little at that, as if he felt relieved by the suggestion. Hank knew what it was like to carry around insecurities. He'd done the same for years after he'd married Evelyn. They both had. Haunted by the constant what if? What if one of them found their soulmate? It was pure chance that it had been her turn first. He couldn't help wondering how things would be if she and Cole were still around. His life would have been a hell of a lot more together, that's for sure. Maybe he and Richard would have been a little more alike, a little easier to fit together.

Silence filled the space between them. Silence and anticipation. It was like they were both waiting for something. Maybe for the other to make the first move. Richard glanced across at him before burying his nose in his mug and finishing his coffee. It was a stupid idea. They barely even knew each other. Despite that thought, his skin almost itched, fingers twitching at the thought of reaching out and just touching Hank. It didn't even need to be intimate. Just his knee or arm would be enough. Hank felt a similar pull, imagining how small Richard's shoulder would feel beneath his palm, or how soft his hair would be between his fingers. They both looked up, eyes meeting across the small space. Richard swallowed hard, licking his lips nervously as Hank regarded him almost thoughtfully. They both jerked back to themselves as Richard's phone started buzzing across the table.

"Perkins," he greeted as he answered, barely able to keep the tremble from his voice. His heart raced as he got to his feet and faced the window, surprised to notice Hank watching him in the glass. Gentle blue eyes sharpened, roving up and down his slender body in a way that made him shudder. He could barely focus on his coworker's ramblings, but one thing came out clear. "Jericho? The old Ferndale freighter?" Maybe they should have thought of such a place, but it was so old and desolate, he'd never considered it. "Alright...I'll meet you there." Hanging up, he turned to Hank, keying in a request for an auto cab. Hank huffed almost fondly.

"Back to work?"

"Yes...We got a lead on the deviant hideout that I need to follow up..." He seemed reluctant to leave as he reached for his coat. Hank felt the same. They'd barely started even the earliest stages of getting to know each other. Being the host, Hank pushed himself to his feet with a small groan, resting his hands on his hips as Richard looped his coat over his arm and pulled out his FBI lanyard. Sumo panted and huffed, wagging his tail as the two humans made their way through the house. Richard wasn't sure what to say as they paused by the front door, though he leaned down to pet Sumo goodbye before Hank sent him to his bed by the television.

It was as he stood that Richard realised just how much taller one foot was. He had to crane his neck to look up at Hank as he stood over him in the tight space by the door. His mouth went dry as Hank's lips twitched. He didn't know what to say. I'll be back? See you later? Call me? They all seemed corny and inadequate. This was serious. It was his soulmate. He balked as Hank stepped closer, barely hearing the little "Fuck it" he gruffed under his breath. A hum stuck in Richard's throat, brown eyes wide as a rough hand cupped his cheek and prickly whiskers rubbed his chin. His whole body tensed as Hank pressed closer, resting a hand on his smaller hip.

After a moment, Richard sighed into it, eyes fluttering as he turned his head and worked his lips against Hank's. The hand on his cheek moved higher to finger through his hair, gripping the dark locks and pulling him closer. He could feel Hank's belt digging in his diaphragm as he looped his arms around his waist to grip his shirt, almost digging his short nails in his back. Steel locks tickled his cheek as Hank leaned over him, prickling whiskers almost stinging as they rubbed his lips. He opened up with a whine as Hank's tongue licked along his lips, barely taking a breath as they finally entwined.

He was breathless, lips red and sore by the time Hank drew back with hazy blue eyes. His heart thudded in his chest, shock and disbelief settling in as they gazed at each other. Richard leaned on the wall while Hank stood over him, supporting himself on one arm. At least he wasn't the only one who was breathless. Hank sounded like he'd run a marathon as he panted for breath. Hank's free hand remained on his hip, the other moving to stroke through his dark hair and down to his small shoulder. It felt so fragile in Hank's larger hand, like Richard himself.

"Thought I'd get that out of the way." Richard nodded awkwardly, drying his lips with a sheepish cough and looking anywhere but at Hank. They'd kissed. He'd kissed his soulmate. He'd kissed his soulmate, and he'd felt something. Warmth flooded his stomach at the thought, tingles shooting across his skin. He froze as Hank cupped his cheek again, thumb gently running over his sore nose. "Huh...The gold is fading." Thank fuck for that! The last thing he wanted was to get to Jericho and be stared at by the SWAT team like some sort of freak show. He trembled as Hank leaned in, whiskers tickling his nose as he kissed the swollen flesh.

"My cab will be here soon..." Hank nodded his agreement. He'd heard the little box roll up a few moments ago. Stepping back, he let Richard pull on his coat, enjoying his fluster as he reached out to straighten the lapels for him. He stroked down the rough wool, pulling it shut and fastening the buttons as Richard stood stunned.

"Wouldn't want you to get cold." He also didn't want him to leave. If only Richard was less of a stickler, he could blow off work and stay longer. "Well? Go get 'em, tiger." He smirked as Richard nodded his flustered agreement and pulled the door open, fumbling with the catch in his haste. Hank took over for him, enjoying the softness of his skin as their hands brushed. Considering the time he spent in the field, Hank was surprised to find it so smooth. His own hands were calloused from years of handling firearms.

Richard shivered as the door opened, the ice of November blowing away the warmth of finding Hank. Words stuck in his throat as he stepped out, feet already cold as he set foot on the worn doormat. He shoved his hands in his pockets, teeth chattering as he looked up at Hank, who seemed utterly unphased by the cold, despite only wearing his streaky shirt in the doorway. It was almost like he could see his hesitation as his lips quirked in a rugged smile. Goodbye seemed far too simple after that kiss.

"I'll keep the lights on for you." Richard's heart thudded at the gruff words, said with a smoothness he could only dream of. He swore his skin must have darkened a shade at the implication. Hank was inviting him back later. After work. At night. Overnight. He licked his dry lips, voice still stuck as he nodded and buried his chin in the thick collar of his coat.

"See you later," he grumbled self-consciously, looking up as Hank chuckled and snagged the front of his coat. He pulled him in, delivering a brief kiss to his dry lips before nodding to the auto cab behind. With a somewhat flustered nod, Richard backed away from the warmth of the houses and headed down the driveway, surprised as a second boxy car pulled up behind his own. He was even more surprised as Connor stepped out, hazel eyes cold and vacant as he regarded him.

"Good evening, Agent Perkins." Richard nodded a stiff greeting before getting into his auto cab, watching Hank in the doorway as Connor headed up the driveway. He seemed surprised to see him, stepping aside and waving him inside before waving goodbye to Richard's auto cab. Richard waved back, already buckling his belt and telling the auto cab where to go. "Ferndale, dock number twelve."