You were sitting on the bed, the quiet hum of the laundry machine in the distance filling the stillness of your room. You hadn’t done much today, but your mind had been anywhere but still—mostly looping around the Hanks. The way they laughed, how they called you House Homie, the way their weird chaotic energy somehow made you feel…alive. Like you were part of something.
You glanced at your nightstand. There they were. The Dativators.
Grinning, you slipped them on. The lenses buzzed faintly as they activated, and with one swift motion, you stood and opened the left closet door—
— “HOUSE HOMIE!!!”
The shout hit you like a sonic boom of affection. All five of them were in the closet like coiled springs of testosterone and himbos, grinning wide-eyed and vibrating with excitement.
Hank 1, standing front and center with his orange-and-blue jumpsuit practically glowing under the closet light, thrust a finger dramatically in your direction.
— “House homie! Welcome back to the adrenaline den!”
You greeted them and asked how’s it hanging. Cause, there hangers.
There was a moment of silence.
Then Hank 1 leaned forward with a sly grin.
— “Oh, you know…”
They all chimed in unison with mischievous, blushing faces—
— “LOW AND TO THE LEFT!”
Hank 5, ever the soft one in the green jumpsuit, beamed as he made a heart shape with his hands.
— “And it is our pleasure to welcome you back.”
Hank 3 gave you a wink.
— “Our pleasure fo sure,”
he said, lips curled into a flirtatious smirk.
Then Hank 1 straightened up, clearly bursting to share something.
— “So. Check it. Branding update. New closet name drop. What do you think?”
Hank 2, already nodding sagely, added,
— “Isn’t it a mood?”
Hank 5 nodded solemnly.
— “It came to us… in a dream.”
Hank 3 purred, eyes glinting.
— “You were there too, but you were wearing a lot less…”
You blinked.
Before you could react, Hank 1 stepped in like he was about to deliver a TED Talk.
— “Anyway, the dream. We were gearing up to go street luging—”
— “It was gonna be wicked gnarly!”
Hank 5 added, raising both hands enthusiastically.
— “But,”
Hank 2 interjected, pushing up imaginary glasses
— “you forgot your mouth guard.”
— “And all your clothes…”
Hank 3 said with a purr, still clinging to the fantasy.
Hank 5 gently patted Hank 3’s shoulder and turned to you.
— “Hank number 3 found this very sexually arousing, but frankly, we were just worried for your safety.”
— “SAFETY IS GOALS AF!!”
Hank 4 suddenly shouted from the back, one hand raised in passionate agreement, his missing tooth visible as he beamed.