It’s Hank’s birthday, and Connor knows it.

The Martian AU verse (Before Mars)

Little Secret

Connor poked his head through the kitchen doorway and smiled, just a little, to himself. Commander Anderson…Hank…was standing by the microwave, reading one of the manuals

he never seemed to put down, reading glasses perched on his nose. The overhead light cast intriguing shadows across the chiseled lines of Han– the commander’s face, but Connor was on a mission and wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted for long. It was time to poke the bear.

Hank looked up when Connor entered the room, and his heart jolted hard for a single beat. He no longer bothered to deny that in his eyes, Connor was a star, and he brought light with him wherever he went. But stars were untouchable things; so too were crewmembers, and up to now,

Hank had kept his distance. Connor sauntered closer, those long legs closing the distance between them, and Hank’s fingers tightened on the disregarded manual.

Though one of the many things he admired about Hank was his dedication to his responsibilities,

Connor couldn’t stop himself from opening their conversation with, “You shouldn’t be working during your break, you know. At least not today, of all days.”

Hank appeared to pause for a single breath before closing the manual and placing it on the counter beside him.

He removed his glasses and carefully folded them into his breast pocket before asking, “Why not ‘today, of all days’?”

Connor grinned a little smugly and stated, “Because it’s your birthday today.” He brought his hands out from where they’d been hiding behind his back and

thrust his prize at Hank’s chest. “Happy birthday, Commander.”

Standing in Connor’s hands was a small bonsai tree made from all types of paper: some colored, some decorated by pen, and some made of discarded wrappers. The pieces were cut, folded, and twisted into shape,

glued into a bent tree with long branches and a rainbow of leaves. It looked as though Connor had scrounged the waste bin for materials, and it was perfect. Hank liked the hand-colored leaves best.

What Hank didn’t particularly like, though, was birthdays, so he leaned back

a bit from the gift, rubbing behind his neck. “Ah jeez, Connor.” And suddenly he didn’t know what else to say, so he settled on, “How’d you know it’s my birthday? I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Chloe told me,” Connor answered, still stubbornly holding his arms out with a knowing look.

“She has all our medical records, of course. She said that you’d never tell anyone, so she wanted me to know so that I’d do something about it.”

Hank took a moment to wonder why Chloe had thought that Connor was the one who should do something about his birthday,

but then dismissed the question because he didn’t really want to know the answer. He also didn’t want to hurt Connor’s feelings, so he forced himself to reply with an easy laugh. “Yeah, I don’t usually celebrate my birthday. Don’t usually tell anyone about it, either.

I…I just don’t like the fuss and bother.”

Connor knew that for all Hank’s easy confidence, he often thought too much of others and too little of himself. He hoped he could help with that someday. “Well, it’s too late, because I already know.” He grinned.

“And my botany powers are too great for you to resist.” He dropped one arm from the small container the paper tree was adhered to and boldly grabbed Hank’s left hand.

“Connor…” Hank tried a half-hearted protest while fiercely ignoring the spark that seared along his arm.

But Connor wouldn’t be deterred. With his left hand, he carefully placed the bonsai into Hank’s palm, then gently squeezed the hand cradled in his right. “It’s your birthday, Commander, and you deserve to celebrate. But don’t worry, it can be our little secret.”

When Connor threw him a saucy wink, Hank knew that he was done: done pretending, done fighting, done for. So he stopped being the commander for once and started being only a man who had just been given a birthday present by someone very special to him.

He placed his free hand on Connor’s shoulder and said, “Whatever you say, Con.”

The delight that lit Connor’s face could have powered the microwave that had heated Hank’s now forgotten lunch. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“What?” Hank asked, momentarily confused,

before realizing what he’d said. “Oh…is that okay?”

Connor smiled. “Yes,” he replied, then dropped his hands, suddenly a little shy. “I like it.”

Hank turned and put his precious gift on the counter before stepping even closer. “You know what I’d like?” he asked,

the low rumble in his voice vibrating up Connor’s spine.

“No, what?” The words were too breathy, and Connor swallowed hard.

“If you’d call me Hank. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone say it, and I’d really like to hear it from you.”

Connor’s lips parted before he told them to, and the name he’d been saying privately to himself for months slipped past them on sigh. “Okay, Hank.”

The softly spoken name was a thunderclap in the silent kitchen, the heralding of change that had been brewing on the horizon

for a long time. Hank leaned forward and pressed one large palm to the side of Connor’s slim waist. Connor’s fingers fluttered, but he resolutely kept his hands still. They were in a common area, anyone could walk in at any moment, and tomorrow they were headed down to Mars.

Now wasn’t the time or the place to explore the uncharted territory that had just opened up between them, the unacknowledged expanse of feelings they had been dancing around the outskirts of since before they launched into space. That would have to wait.

So they just stood there, connected by one warm, electric point of contact and two dopey smiles. This was good, perfect even, and they were content. For now, it would be their little secret.