A/N: This is something random I made, mainly because 'Dawn of the Med' really disappointed me, Hank_Evan makeup wise. It seemed very scripted to me, so this is my attempt at how I think it would go. The same things happen, pre this part, but this is like take 2, technically. Tell me what you think! :)


It was four-thirty in the morning when Evan had a panic attack.

He'd been tossing and turning for five hours, trying to think of ways to go to sleep – counting sheep, reciting the first twenty clients of HankMed in the official books he kept in his study and even humming the entire "Bohemian Rhapsody".

All to no avail.

See, Evan couldn't sleep. And it wouldn't matter so much if he didn't have a giant meeting with Hank tomorrow, for some bigwig Hamptons guy with a giant trust fund and an even larger ego. And all of that was Evan's thing – really, it was. He could put on a suit and kiss ass with the best of them but for some reason, this particular meeting was giving him a bit of a racing heart, a tiny modicum of insomnia.

Why?

Evan clutched the edge of his comforter, wondering what was happening to him. It was like the room was too hot for him to even think. Or maybe that was just him?

He really wanted to prove to Hank that he could help HankMed. He knew they'd just made up, that their fight was behind them, but the words that had seemed to hurdle themselves from Hank's mouth still stung. Cleaning up after your mess, Evan thought. He knew his brother didn't always mean that, that he said things out of anger rather than genuinely. He also knew that he could make messes - theoretically of course, he always picked up after himself. But it still hurt to think that Hank considered him such a hindrance.

Which wasn't really helping the growing panic in Evan's chest. It was all constrictive and he couldn't name the feeling – he just so, so desperately wanted to make an impression. He wanted Hank to believe him, to go through with just one of his plans like he actually, sincerely wanted to.

He threw back his covers, eager to dissipate the pressing feeling in his chest, the heavy breaths. He needed some warm milk. Yeah, his mom always made that when he couldn't sleep. He just needed something to calm him down.

He padded into the kitchen, inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. Just a glass of milk…if he slept, got enough hours, then the meeting would go over great and Hank would be impressed. Maybe they'd even have lunch without any awkward pauses.

He opened the cabinet door, rummaged for a glass and then set it down a bit heavier than intended. He winced and then turned around, looking to see if Hank would come storming in, blathering on about his much-needed sleep. Thankfully, nothing happened and Evan exhaled a heavy sigh of relief, hands slightly shaking as he poured some 2% milk into the fancy glass Boris had deemed necessary for his guests to drink from.

Unfortunately, the milk splashed a bit onto the counter and Evan hastily reached for a washcloth.

"Crap," he whispered, quickly wiping it away. What the hell was going on with him? Was he that much of a mess that he couldn't even function properly? He needed to stop thinking, needed to clear his mind. He needed…work.

Almost giddy, he went over to the table where he'd left a stack of already-sorted bills. He could do bills. He could do numbers. Yes.

His hand shaking, he opened one of the envelopes. God, his mind was racing. It was really unnecessary for him to be breathing this heavily. He just really wanted the meeting to go well and he wanted this to be the best one and – his breath caught. Crap.

There was a shuffling noise and Evan looked up from the unfolded papers to see his brother squinting in the dim lighting, plaid pajama bottoms on and shirtless.

"Ev? What…"

Evan continued to breathe heavily.

"Hey! What's the matter? What's going on?" Hank raced over to his brother, concern swimming in his eyes.

"Chest…" Evan whispered, hand floating over to him.

"Hey…hey…just take a deep breath, Ev." Hank placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't need anything else from Evan – he'd seen this before in plenty of other patients when he simply brought out a needle. His brother was having a panic attack.

"Hard…to…" Evan said between pants.

"Come on, just try." Hank coaxed him. "Like me, ready?" he grabbed Evan's hand and put it on his bare chest. He took a dramatic inhale and then exhaled just as heavily.

The sound of both brothers' breathing filled the kitchen, a melody that floated between the chairs, glided past the teak countertops and rested on the kitchen table.

After Evan had managed to steady his frantic breaths, Hank looked at him serious – all brotherly and concerned with that trace of doctor. "Hey, look at me – Ev?"

Evan looked up.

"What's going on?" Hank asked in that soft, gentle way of his that always made Evan spill things he didn't want to spill.

"Nothing, I'm just…" Evan's voice trailed off, staring at the bills again. How could he explain to Hank that sometimes…even he didn't believe what he was saying?

"Evan."

"I'm a little nervous about tomorrow, okay?" Evan blurted.

"What-tomorrow?" Hank was confused.

"You know. The meeting, with that guy…Chad Richardson…"

"That's what's got you having a panic attack down here? A meeting with another rich Hamptons guy?"

"He's not just a rich Hamptons guy, Henry." Evan said crisply. "He happens to be a Forbe's 500 member and a well-known philanthropist."

"Okay, yeah, but you never worry about that stuff."

"Well maybe it's a big deal to me, okay? He could give our company a lot of money and I have to make a good impression if we want to get anything."

"All you have to be is you, Ev."

Evan turned to his brother looked back up at his father again. "Yeah, well what if 'just me' isn't good enough?"

Hank was surprised. Where was this coming from? Evan had always been the one that had the moves and his so-called 'style', that was smooth-talking and easygoing. Hardly ever did he show an ounce of vulnerability. "Evan. Trust me. You are plenty good enough."

Evan's eyes seemed to darken. "I don't wanna be a screw-up."

Hank suddenly flashed back to their argument in the kitchen, the way Evan had seemed to unleash anger he hadn't even known he possessed. "That's what this is about? Evan, you know I didn't mean to say any of that stuff – I was angry…I don't really think that about you."

"You really seemed to." Evan's words were cutting, sharp and Hank almost recoiled in surprise.

"Evan…"

Evan stood up, as if what he'd said was final. "Look, Hank, I need to get some rest; we have to be up early tomorrow." He turned to go and Hank put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Ev,"

Evan was silent.

"I should never have said any of that to you; it was out of line and wrong."

Evan was still silent, staring down at the floor.

"I…I know I definitely don't tell you enough, but you do a lot for the company. For me. I shouldn't…I shouldn't get so angry with you when you're only trying to help."

Evan looked up at him again.

"I mean, it's not always easy when you're running around like you do," Hank chuckles, smiling so that he knew he was half-joking. "But you're my brother. I'll…I'll believe in your craziest idea because it's from you. Remember Garbage Bag Wings?"

Evan let out a laugh. "Say what you will, those got me pretty far down the hill."

"And in the emergency room, if I recall."

"Occupational hazard."

A silence settled between the two and then Hank looked at Evan again with his Serious Doctor expression. "Don't be worried about tomorrow, okay? You'll do great." He turned around, ready to walk back to his room when Evan called after him,

"Hey, Hank?"

Hank turned around, curious.

"What do you think Chad Richardson'll say to HankMed airplanes?"

Hank looked at him with a half-amused grin. "I'd go with plan B on that one, Ev."

"You never know – it could be innovation at its finest!"

"Good night, Evan."

"Night, Hank."

And Evan felt himself being able to breathe once more.