Hank never imagined he’d be spending Valentines day- or in this case night, like this. Hank never expected a lot of things in his life anymore. Good and bad. Mostly good. Because since when did anything ever really go good in his damned life.

But then there was you. You who had somehow wormed your way into his jacked up life. You, who wasn’t at all like him. You, who shouldn’t even like someone like him. You were too good for that. Too good for him. And yet here you were, sitting beside him in the passengers seat of his 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Brougham for some last minute valentines “date” Hank himself wasn’t even sure he was going to do. Until the last minute, of course. So far, all he could get was some roses, a box of donuts he luckily bought on a discount, and a late night drive. Great.

The windows were rolled down some, the cold, frosty air blowing by because of course there was still snow in fucking February. White snowflakes cascaded down softly from the pitch black sky, only twinkling with a few lone stars. “So, uh…shit, you like music? I mean, Christ, who doesn’t like music? Here.” Hank reached for the radio, turning on some random Jazz song. “You like Jazz? Hell, I don’t know what the young people like these days…” Hank sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stole a glance at you, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He wanted to make this work, he really did. But he was Hank-fucking-Anderson. Could he, realistically, make something as simple as a date work.

“Look, I’m not…the best at this dating shit or whatever. It’s been a long fucking time since…well, since anything. I’m rusty, more than I’d like to admit. And I get it, if this wasn’t the date you envisioned…what I’m trying to say is, feel free to leave my ass or whatever, if this isn’t up to par.” Hank kept his eyes on the snowy road, on anything but you as now only the jazz music filled up the car. He had said that but he hoped you wouldn’t leave him. Not like everyone else in his goddamn life.