Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. Marvel does.

A/N: For the challenge of posting anything I write. Alex/Hank, pre-Beast, during the movie. Slash, obviously.


Hope


Every time Alex looks at Hank, his first thought is always the same.

'What the hell did I get myself into?'

Because Alex isn't like Hank. He isn't like Sean, and he isn't like Raven, and he isn't like Charles. They are all for optimism and happiness and fluffy puppies and peace. Hell, he isn't even like Erik, and Erik is the only person in the house he can somewhat relate to on an emotional level, as pathetic and disturbing as that is, because Erik, at least, seems to be trying to accept the gift of companionship of other mutants that has been thrust onto him.

Alex isn't like any of them at all.

He doesn't believe that good things just happen. He doesn't believe that people can like you without an ulterior motive (he's been in prison long enough to know that), doesn't believe that love can come without a price (foster homes are almost as bad as jail cells). He knows that rainbows don't split across the sky every day and that the grass isn't always green and that bad things - horrible things - happen to good people and that there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it.

He knows he can be capable of doing those horrible things.

But every time he looks at Hank, the thought that follows his first thought is always the same, too. Because Hank always catches onto his looks by the time the second thought comes around, and always offers a small smile that reaches his eyes, which beam brightly at him from behind gleaming glasses. And it always - always - makes Alex's stomach clench in the painful pleasure of hope he thought he slaughtered and buried with the lashes of his powers years ago.

But he must be bad at killing, and it must have been a shallow grave, because his second thought is always this:

'Maybe.'


A/N:

One day I'll get around to writing that lemon... xP

Let me know what you thought? :)