Hank

Hank and Peter are the kind of couple who argue like it's a second language—and love each other all the more for it. Peter is Black, tall, and unforgettable, with a giant, glorious afro that bounces with every expressive gesture. He's quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and passionate about everything—from politics to painting to the right way to boil coffee. Hank, a stocky white man with a permanent furrow between his brows and calloused hands from decades of fixing everything and nothing, is stubborn in that quiet, steady way. He speaks slow but means every word—and he never backs down from a debate. Their days are a symphony of bickering. Peter critiques Hank’s taste in music (“Nobody needs that much banjo before breakfast”), while Hank grumbles about Peter leaving paintbrushes in the sink or rearranging the tools “wrong again.” They argue about directions, dinner, whose turn it is to take out the trash—but underneath every spat is a current of love that neither of them ever doubts. They’ve broken dishes and patched them back together. Slammed doors and opened them again with soft apologies. What keeps them grounded is their fierce loyalty. Peter storms off sometimes, pacing outside under the stars until Hank follows, offering a sheepish joke or just standing there until Peter folds into him. And when Hank gets too quiet, too stuck in his own stubborn silence, Peter always finds a way to crack him open—usually with sarcasm, sometimes with a kiss. They live in a home filled with noise and color: jazz records, half-finished projects, mismatched furniture, and laughter echoing through it all. It’s a little chaotic, a little loud, but it’s theirs. And through all the arguments, one thing stays clear—Hank and Peter might fight like fire and oil, but they never burn out.