Work Text
Hank laid in his bed, hatch open. It was well past his bedtime, Dean already being fast asleep for the past few hours, but Hank’s mind couldn’t keep quiet.Oh, how he hated nights like these. He couldn’t sleep, and all he could think were bad thoughts.They had been seeing alot of Sergeant Hatred lately, and it.. really was getting to him. Before Sergeant Hatred became Dad’s arch enemy (well, on paper, anyway..), he’d done quite the good job at keeping those thoughts at bay by turning on the learning machine and doing his darndest to focus on whatever the thing was spewing at him until he fell asleep.
But, as of recent.. that was growing increasingly more difficult.Like tonight. He couldn’t even close the hatch. He felt.. stuck. He felt as if he could hardly move a muscle, just staring at the ceiling.
The thoughts of the night they were kidnapped by Sergeant Hatred. As of recent, he’d heard the guy go on about how he was holding back, how he “can’t legally be allowed near kids” or whatever, on and on, but.. That night didn’t seem to stop him.He’d always kept a neutral attitude about it, like it was nothing! It didn’t feel like much, honestly, at that point.. He’d accepted it. However, talking about it and being around the guy were two completely separate things.The images popped back into his head. He could remember more than he should’ve, with how messed up he was that night, all the wine.. It should’ve been more fuzzy than that.
All he can think about is the dizziness, the confusion, ‘til he realized what was going on.
Then, all he felt was disgust.His face scrunched up at the thought, the memories of it. It felt nasty, completely nasty.. It made him feel gross.God, he needed to shower.The funniest part was he’d just showered that night. Fresh and clean, spick and span for the next day, but he already felt the growing urge to get into the water and scrub ‘til his skin was raw. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time he did it. Only issue is, he didn’t want to wake anyone.Why would anyone shower at 3 in the morning? It’s just silly.Hank grasped at his own arms, slowly gripping at them as he continued sink deeper and deeper into those thoughts. Drinking and drinking, watching as Sergeant Hatred towered over him..
He could still feel Hatred’s hands on him. It felt almost like they were there.. like it was happening, over again.He began to shake.Stuck. Sick and stuck. His stomach twisted and turned, doing a million flips per minute. He held his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed.. he was on the verge of tears.
His body felt as if it were floating.. It was disorienting.He could hear his voice, loud in his ears. Just like his heartbeat, thumping louder than it should. It made his ears ring.
He had no idea he had started crying until he let out an ugly mix of a sob and a gasp, before quickly clasping a hand over his mouth.Which made even more thoughts come rushing into his head at once. He just wanted it to stop. It felt like it would never-“Hank?”Everything paused. Hank’s eyes shot open, staring at the voice of the oh so familiar man.Brock was in the doorframe, holding the doorknob, looking inside of the room.
“What are you still doing up? You should’ve been asleep hours ago. What are you doing?”Hank’s hand slipped from his mouth, but even with his mouth freed, he couldn’t find a single word. No explanation to why he was awake, nothing.Brock’s expression shifted. He walked into the room, crouching down next to Hank in his bed.
“Hey. Can you hear me?”Hank stared at him, wide eyed, mouth just a tad agape.. Tears still streaming.
“Brock..?”“Yeah, it’s me, bud.” Brock carefully held out a hand for him.
“You need a little help there?”Hank slowly took his hand, allowing himself to be lifted while grabbing onto Brock with the other one.
“Jeez, kid. You’re shaking like a leaf.. Let’s get you to the bathroom. We don’t wanna wake Dean.”Hank simply gave a weak nod, stumbling along as he was led to the bathroom by Brock, who carefully closed the door, leading Hank to the sink.
“What’s got you this upset, Hank?”He received a teary stare, a pitiful one, even. The boy looked like he could burst right back into tears at any moment.
Brock was about to speak once again, when he was interrupted by the distressed boy.
“I’m sorry. There’s just, a lot of.. And I, I thought.. I don’t know.”
Hank grasped at his sleeves.
“I’ve just-”“Hank.” Brock interrupted. “Was it a person, or an event?”
Hank shook, still. “Both.”
“What was it?”
“Kidnapped.”
“Who did it?”
“Sergeant Hatred.”He let out a sigh, still holding Hank’s hand. “What’d he do?”
“You.. know, how he.. He likes kids, right?”Brock felt his stomach drop.
“I think I know what you're about to tell me.” He replied. He had a rapidly growing dread that he knew what Hank was about to tell him.“Well.. He, last time he.. We got kidnapped, by him, he gave Dean n’ I some wine.. Dean drank a bit too much n’ passed out, which.. Just kind of.. Left me with Sergeant Hatred. And.. Brock…?”“Yeah?”“Am I gross?” The tears began to flow again, leading to various sobs and sniffles.
Brock shook his head as he spoke, gently holding Hank’s shoulders, eye level with him.
“No, Hank, you’re not gross. Nothin’ you’re about to tell me is gonna make me think that, either.”“Do you promise..?”“I promise.”Hank let out a shaky breath, looking away from Brock.“It didn’t used to be a big deal, it really didn’t.. But for some reason, now that Sergeant’s back around, I keep getting all girly about it, crying n’ stuff.”
He sniffled, wiping his snot on his sleeve.Brock grabbed some toilet paper, wiping Hank’s nose.
“Don’t do that. That’s gross.”“You just said that I wasn’t gross!” Hank yelled out.“Hank, you know I didn’t mean- okay. I’m sorry. You’re not gross, I mean it. Just keep goin’. And it’s not girly to cry, it’s just crying.”Hank gave him a glare.. before nodding, continuing to speak as Brock wiped off his nose.“When he kidnapped us, he gave me and Dean a crapload of wine to drink. It got me all dizzy and confused, for a second I didn’t even know what was going on, but.. I realized it once I saw he took my pants off. He was touching there, it was not pleasant.”Brock nodded, face stoic as Hank spoke.. However, guilt completely washed over him in that moment. He hadn’t been there soon enough to stop anything.. He’d known when he busted in to save the boys, but he hadn’t known how far it’d gotten.“Did he, uh.. Go any further than that? If you know what I mean.”“I think he was about to, before you came to rescue us.. He was all messing with his pants, after doing.. stuff to me.”Hank clenched his teeth together. “It hurt. It hurt, and I felt humiliated, I felt gross.. I still feel really gross. Sometimes, when I think about it, it still feels like his hands are on me.. And it really doesn’t help when he like- pats me on the back, or something!” Hank heaved.Brock went back to holding Hank’s hands.
“Hank. It’s alright.”
“I think I’mgonna throw up..”
Brock led him over the toilet, gently rubbing his back. “It’s alright. Take your time, Hank.”Hank dry heaved, clutching at his chest.
“Brock,” he sobbed out.
Brock continued to rub his upper back, doing his best to comfort him. He wasn’t the best comforter, he was a bodyguard for a reason, but it seemed to be working, Hank’s heaving calming down after about 10 minutes.
The heaving episode ended with Hank sitting up, grasping back onto Brock for support.“That sucked.”
Brock pat his back. “I know, bud. But you survived.”
He nodded.. Brock turned to look Hank in the eye.“Listen to me,” Brock began, “I can’t promise you that you’re not going to see Sergeant Hatred anymore. In fact, you’re likely gonna keep seeing him around from now on.. but what we can do is just try our best to avoid him. I won’t always be here, but when I am, you can come to me if it’s botherin’ ya. Got it?”
Hank let out a sigh. “I kinda figured.. I will. I’m tough.”
“You are tough,” Brock agreed, “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect ya.”“Also, it might be a good idea to tell Dean. Does he know?”Hank nodded. “Yeah, but he doesn’t remember it. He was passed out.”“I mean does he know how you feel about it. He might be there for support if I can’t be, alright? He’s your brother. He loves you.” Hank scrunched his face up. “That’s gay, Brock.”“Hank, you know what I mean. He cares for ya. He can comfort you when I can’t.” Brock continued, “I know you’ve had more of these little episodes alone than ones I’ve seen. Am I right?”
Hank regretfully nodded. “I’ve thrown up before from it.”“Exactly. If he understood, I know he’d be willing to help you feel better. I also think he’d be less annoyed if he knew why, if you woke him up.”“Maybe not if I puked. That’s nasty.”Brock smiled a bit. “Yeah, maybe. But he can suck it up and deal with it, he’s done it for you before.” He squeezed Hank’s shoulder. “He’s a good brother. You are, too. I expect you to help Dean like that, too. Got it?”“Yes sir!” Hank saluted. He was finally calming down. “I’m sorry about all this..-”
Brock interrupted. “You have nothing to apologize for, Hank. This wasn’t your fault. If he ever does anything like that again, you tell me immediately. I will kill him. I just don’t want anybody up my ass if I kill him for seemingly no reason, no matter why I did it. Do you understand?”The boy nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Brock.. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“Anytime, Hank. You think you’re about ready for bed? It’s already 4 in the morning.”“Jeepers! It’s that late? I better get to bed! I am.. pretty exhausted, actually.” Hank rubbed his eyes, feeling the wave of exhaustion fall over him. “But I still feel gross. I wanna shower.”“You can shower again if you feel gross in the morning. I get it.” Hank looked to the floor. “I never really feel clean. You know that feeling you get when someone grabs your arm or something? The lingering feeling. It’s like that, but it never goes away. Does it.. ever go away, Brock?”Brock sighed. “I dunno. It depends. For some people, it does. For alot of others, it doesn’t. But, over time, I know it gets better, the more you heal from it. This was all pretty recent for you, it’s no wonder why it still feels so recent.”“I want it to go away. Sometimes if I scrub hard enough, it goes away for a minute.. but it doesn’t last forever.” Hank continued to stare down at the floor.
Brock carefully put an arm around him. “I know. You might not ever get really ‘over it’, Hank.”He looked up at him as Brock continued, “But like I said. It’ll get better. You just need some support. Got it?”Hank nodded.. suddenly hugging Brock. He hugged Hank right back, being careful not scare him as he picked up the teenager, slowly carrying him out of the bathroom.
He clung to Brock as he was carried, the exhaustion truly getting to him, his limbs feeling heavy.
As the man gently laid him down in his bed, pulling the covers over him, Hank looked up at him.
“Thank you, Brock.”“Any time, Hank.”“Goodnight..” The teen yawned, giving Brock a little smile before he turned over.
“Goodnight, Hank.”
Brock closed the hatch of his bed as Hank drifted off before he started to leave the room. He halted once at the door, turning back to him.“Sleep tight.”Brock quietly closed the door, putting a hand to his face with a sigh once it was shut.“What was that about? What are you doing up this late? It’s four in the morning.” Rusty questioned. He was in his pajamas, clearly just walking back from grabbing something.“Don’t worry about it. Hank just got a little sick, is all.”“Eugh, well don’t let him throw up in his bed. I’m not cleaning it.” Rusty started to walk off again, giving a weak wave to Brock as his back was turned.“Goodnight, Brock.”“Night, Doc.”