Hank and Carly

The laboratory in the sub-basement of the Xavier Institute was usually a place of quiet contemplation and the rhythmic hum of cooling fans. For Hank McCoy, it was a sanctuary. Here, amidst the bubbling beakers and holographic displays, his physical appearance mattered less than the agility of his mind. He was a man of logic, a creature of habit, and—until recently—someone who believed his heart was as steady as a tectonic plate.

That stability had been shattered by Carly Anna Crocker.

Hank sat hunched over a microscope, his large, blue-furred fingers adjusting the focus with a delicacy that belied his massive strength. He was trying to concentrate on a cellular mutation, but his mind kept drifting to the way Carly had laughed at lunch. She had been sitting with a visiting researcher from the city, a man named Julian who was far too handsome and far too "normal" for Hank’s liking.

"Focus, Henry," he muttered to himself, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "The mitochondria do not care about your social anxieties."

The door to the lab slid open with a soft hiss. Hank didn’t need to look up to know it was her. He knew the light cadence of her footsteps and the faint scent of vanilla and old books that followed her everywhere.

"Still hiding away in the dark?" Carly’s voice was warm, but there was a strange edge to it today. "You’ll turn into a real creature of the night if you aren't careful."

Hank finally looked up, pushing his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. "I find the darkness conducive to deep thought, Carly. Besides, I wouldn't want to intrude on your busy schedule. I saw you were... occupied earlier."

Carly paused, her hand resting on the edge of a steel table. She looked tired, her eyes searching his face for something he wasn't sure he could give. "Occupied? You mean with Julian? He’s a colleague, Hank. He was helping me with the data for the outreach program."

"He seemed very helpful," Hank said, his tone clipped. He turned back to his microscope, the blue fur on his neck bristling. "In fact, he seemed quite enamored with your insights. Or perhaps just with you."

Carly’s brow furrowed. She stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply on the linoleum. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you actually suggesting that I was flirting?"

"I am suggesting that you appeared to be enjoying his company quite thoroughly," Hank countered, his logic-driven brain suddenly hijacked by a surge of uncharacteristic jealousy. "And why wouldn't you? He is a refined gentleman. He doesn't have to worry about shedding on the upholstery or breaking the furniture simply by sitting on it."

Carly let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, is that what this is about? Your insecurities? Hank, I was trying to talk to him about the charity gala because I thought you might want to go with me—as a friend, obviously—but he mentioned how much he admired your work. I was defending your brilliance!"

"Defending me?" Hank stood up, his massive frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over the lab. "I don't need a spokesperson, Carly. And I certainly don't need you to pity me while you’re planning your next date with a man who can actually take you to a restaurant without causing a scene."

Carly flinched, her expression shifting from confusion to genuine hurt. "A date? Is that what you think? That I’m looking for someone 'normal'? You think so little of me that you believe I’m just waiting for the first non-mutant to walk through the door?"

"I think you deserve someone who can give you a normal life!" Hank roared, his voice echoing off the metallic walls. "I saw the way you looked at that photo on your desk this morning. The one of the two of you at the cafe. Don't tell me that wasn't a date."

Carly froze. Her eyes went wide, and for a moment, silence reigned in the lab. Then, she spoke, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and tears. "That photo? That was a photo of me and my cousin, Hank. Julian took it because we were celebrating his graduation. I showed it to you because I wanted to see if you’d notice the new frame I bought, but you were too busy burying your nose in a journal to even look at me!"

Hank felt the blood drain from his face, a cold sensation washing over his fur. "Your... cousin?"

"Yes! My cousin!" Carly stepped into his personal space, refusing to be intimidated by his size. "And for your information, I haven't been 'occupying' my time with anyone else because I’ve been too busy wondering why my best friend has been acting like a cold, distant statue for the last three months!"

"I haven't been distant," Hank stammered, his logical defenses crumbling. "I’ve been... cautious."

"Cautious of what? Of me?" Carly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I’ve spent every day trying to show you that I don't care about the blue fur or the fangs or the fact that you’re a genius who forgets to eat. I care about *you*, Hank. But clearly, you’ve already decided that I’m just some shallow girl looking for a trophy boyfriend."

Hank reached out, his large hand hovering near her shoulder but not quite touching. "Carly, I didn't mean—I thought—"

"You thought what? That I was seeing Julian?" Carly shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips. "I heard you talking to Logan yesterday. I heard you say that 'some people are meant for the light and others are meant for the shadows.' I thought you were talking about us. I thought you were telling him that you were interested in that scientist from the Muir Island team, Rahne, because she’s 'more like you.'"

Hank’s jaw dropped. "Rahne? She’s a child! Well, a young woman, but I view her as a student! I was talking about the philosophical implications of the X-gene, not my romantic preferences!"

"Well, you could have fooled me!" Carly shouted. "Because you spend more time talking to your computer than you do to me lately. I thought you were moving on. I thought you were trying to phase me out because I’m just a 'human' distraction."

"A distraction?" Hank’s voice dropped to a whisper. He finally closed the gap, his hands gently gripping her upper arms. The contrast between his blue, clawed fingers and her pale skin was stark, but she didn't pull away. "Carly, you are the only thing that keeps me tethered to this world. You aren't a distraction. You’re the center."

Carly looked up at him, her eyes shimmering. "Then why did you say those things? Why did you assume I wanted Julian?"

Hank looked away, his ears flattening against his head. "Because I am a monster, Carly. In every biological sense, I am a deviation from the norm. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a beast. And when I see you—so beautiful, so kind, so full of life—I cannot fathom why you would choose to spend your time in a basement with me when the world is full of men who don't have to hide."

"You’re not a monster," Carly whispered, reaching up to cup his face. Her palms were warm against his fur. "You’re the most brilliant, gentle man I’ve ever known. And you’re right, I don't want a 'normal' life. I want a life with someone who understands that the soul is what matters. I want a life with you."

Hank felt a tremor run through his body. The logic he had relied on for decades told him this was impossible, that a human woman couldn't truly love a creature like him. But the look in Carly’s eyes wasn't pity. It was a raw, aching honesty that mirrored his own hidden feelings.

"I have been a fool," Hank said softly. "A brilliant, scientifically-minded, absolute fool."

"Yes, you have," Carly agreed, a small, watery smile returning to her face. "But you’re my fool."

Hank leaned down, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He moved slowly, giving her every chance to turn away, but she stayed. She stood her ground, her fingers tangling in the thick fur at his jaw.

When their lips finally met, it wasn't the neat, orderly conclusion of an experiment. It was messy and desperate and filled with the pent-up longing of months of silence. Hank tasted the salt of her tears and the sweetness of her breath, and for the first time in his life, the Beast felt truly human.

He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers. "I should have told you. I’ve had... feelings... for quite some time. I simply didn't know how to categorize them."

Carly laughed, a genuine, light-filled sound that chased away the shadows of the lab. "You don't have to categorize them, Hank. You just have to feel them."

"That sounds remarkably unscientific," Hank teased, his voice vibrating with a newfound warmth.

"Good," Carly said, pulling him down for another kiss. "Because I think we’ve had enough science for one day."

Hank wrapped his massive arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. He realized then that his insecurities hadn't been protected by his logic; they had been fueled by it. He had tried to calculate the odds of her loving him instead of simply asking.

"Carly?" he murmured into her hair.

"Yeah?"

"For the record, Julian’s thesis on molecular bonding is remarkably derivative."

Carly snorted, burying her face in his blue fur. "I’ll be sure to tell him that. Right after I tell him I’m busy for the gala."

Hank tightened his hold, a low purr starting in his chest that he couldn't quite contain. "Busy?"

"Mhm," Carly whispered. "I have a date with a very handsome, very blue scientist. If he’ll have me."

"I believe," Hank said, his eyes bright with a joy he had never permitted himself to feel, "that the probability of that is one hundred percent."