Chapter Text
When Hank woke up, Connor was still by his side, holding the older man’s hand and running a thumb affectionately over it. “‘Morning, Connor,” he said. The thumb stopped.
“Good morning Hank. How was the rest of your night?” Not that he didn’t already know, but small talk seemed appropriate at this time.
“Better. Look, about that— I’m sorry I dragged you into my shit like that, I—“
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Hank,” Connor said, cutting him off. “You cannot control your dreams or your past. Besides, as I’ve said before, adapting to human unpredictability is one of my specialties. And nightmares are certainly unpredictable.” Connor winked at him, and Hank could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks.
“Y-yeah, well. Um.” Hank tried not to be a sputtering mess for a good ten seconds before succeeding. “L-let’s just get ready for the day, yeah?”
“Very well, Hank. Though I did enjoy staying in bed with you like this.”
This time, Hank failed in his attempt at not jumbling his words like a complete idiot, as Connor reluctantly let go of his hand while getting out of the bed. “I— you can’t— can’t— J-Jesus, Connor!”
“Are you requesting to talk to Markus? I can make an arrangement—“
“No! Fucking hell, Connor, you can’t just say you like sleeping beside someone!”
“…Understood, Hank. I will refrain from saying that in the future.” But he did not understand.
“Good.” Hank got out of the bed and left without another word.
As soon as he got to the bathroom, he shut the door and put his palms on his forehead. God, Connor had to stop doing that shit! Asking to fuck him, saying he liked sleeping next to him… one of these days, he was gonna think Connor wanted to be a different kind of partner. God, just the thought made his cheeks red. Connor, having feelings for him? Loving him… wanting hi—?
Hank splashed some water on his face before he could finish the thought, already at half-mast. There was no fuckin’ way Connor would want a washed up detective like him, and there was no fuckin’ way he was gonna get his hopes up for them to get crushed this late in life, damn it.
…Shit.
~
The rest of the day went off without a hitch. They talked, pissed off Gavin, and did paperwork until dark. Connor eventually did get Gavin his coffee, but when Gavin refused to drink it, it somehow found its way out of Connor’s hand and into the prick’s face. Gavin let loose curses that would make a sailor ashamed, and Hank laughed harder than he had years.
It was a good day, but the night was different.
After everyone had left, Connor and Hank(plus Ryan in a different car for backup), found themselves driving to the abandoned Denny’s. Hank was behind the wheel, Connor twirling a coin nervously in his right hand, tapping his fingers with his left.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Lieutenant,” he said.
Hank nodded. “I know. Me too. It’s like we’ve messed up without beginning.” The street light ahead turned red, and they stopped.
“…We should’ve pressed Paul for more information, Lieutenant.”
“I agree. But there’s no time left.”
“I know. but all the same,—“
“Connor.” The light turns green, and Hank stepped on the gas a little too aggressively. “What the hell’s the matter?”
Connor hesitated. “It’s just… something Paul said. He called me Malcolm. It was cryptic, and unnerving. I think we don’t know what we’re getting into.
Hank laughed. “Really? An imbecile tries to sound mysterious, and you buy into that shit? I thought you were above that, Connor.”
“I just want everyone to be safe, Lieutenant. I don’t want you or Ryan to suffer because of my mistakes.”
Hank shrugged. “It happens, Con. Besides, it’s too late now; we’re here.” Hank parked the car across the street, not wanting to be too obvious, and got out of the car. Connor followed.
I’ll send a distress signal if things go wrong, he mentally told Ryan.
Alright. Be safe, the other android replied.
Connor smirked, but there was no humor behind it. I’ll try.
By the time he finished the conversation, Hank was a few yards ahead, and he had to trot to catch up. They crossed the street, and he put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. Hank stiffened.
“Let me go first,” Connor said. “If anything or anyone is waiting, I’ll handle them.” It took a second to Hank to process the words, to busy focusing on that warm hand, but he nodded.
Connor went ahead.
He opened the door and stepped inside. There was a lack of any smell, and it was surprisingly clean. He took out a flashlight for Hank, passing it to him silently.
He walked further into the empty Denny’s.
After a second, Paul’s voice rang out. “I’m here,” it said.
There was a wait.
“Good,” Connor said. The lights flipped on, and before Connor knew it, Connor was jumping down from a beam in the ceiling, trying to snap his neck. He hardly dodged and gripped Connor with his hand.
There was a quick, intense fight in which both Connor and Connor exchanged many blows. Connor was bleeding from his arm. Eventually, Connor got Connor’s head in his hands and was just about to break his neck, when—
“HANDS IN THE AIR! BOTH OF YOU!” Hank’s voice rang out, a gun pointed at both of them. Slowly, Connor stepped away from Connor.
“Why are you doing this? I had him in my hands! We could’ve solved this thing once and for all!” Connor looked at Connor in shock. That wasn’t… How did he…?
“Because we need Malcolm alive!”
Connor gaped at Hank. “I’m not Malcolm! I’m Connor.”
Connor looked at Connor in disbelief. “I’m Connor.”
Connor looked back at Connor. “No, you’re not!”
Connor turned back to Hank. “He must have accessed my memory.”
Hank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. And we’re not going anywhere until I figure out who is who.”
Connor let his shoulders relax. “I did just tell you this was a bad idea.”
Connor glared at him. “You didn’t! I did!”
Connor glared back. “Lying won’t do you any good, Malcolm.”
Connor could feel his blood start to boil. “You’re not going to get away with this!”
“I should be saying that to you.”
“ENOUGH! Fucking hell!” Hank took the safety off, and both Connor and Connor looked at him.
“How about you ask us something only the real Connor would know?” They both said at the same time.
“Jesus. This is even harder than the last time I found myself in this predicament.” He sighed. “Fine. Let’s start with something simple. What’s my dog’s name?”
“Sumo!” They both said, once again in unison. Hank groaned.
“Shit. Alright, who’s the person that gave us the info to come here?”
“He’s not a person. He’s a monster.” Connor said. Connor scowled.
“His name was Paul,” he replied to Hank. “And he was not just a red ice dealer, like Malcolm, but also a rapist.”
“He abused Sara for ninety-six says in a row,”
“Raped her twice a day.”
“God, I’m gonna need an aspirin after this,” Hank mutters. Connor silently agrees.
“We’re not getting anywhere,” Connor said impatiently. He took a step forward.
“Don’t move another fucking step,” Hank growled. Connor put his hand out. Connor watched him with a fierce intensity. What the hell was he planning on doing…?
“I…” Connor laughed nervously. “This is difficult to say.” He took a deep breath.
“I… love you, Hank.”
Connor stared at him in shock. He… he didn’t just…
“I realized it a few days ago when I was talking to Markus about it. He told me that his thirium pump would skip a beat when Simon entered a room, and how heat would rush to his cheeks when Simon smiled at him. He said he always wanted to be near him and look at him, and that after a bit of self-reflection he realized he was in love. And… I feel the same way. You light up my world, Hank. You’re amazing, and brave, and caring and funny and…”
Connor offered a weak smile. “And I’m in love with you.”
Hank almost dropped his gun. He wasn’t focusing on that anymore. Connor…
Meanwhile, Connor didn’t know what to do. Tears began to pool in his eyes. Did he just lose this battle?
Hank…
Connor took another step forward, and Hank came to his senses. Without a second thought, and a face hard as steel, he put a bullet in the confessing Connor’s gut.
He fell to his knees, face now showing hatred, not sheepish adoration. “Fuck you,” Malcolm said, voice half an octave lower. He fell face first on the ground.
Hank let out a sigh, but Connor was still stiff as a board. “God damn.” He picked Malcolm up by the collar at first, then settled on dragging him by the arm and walked straight out of the Denny’s, Connor following after half a second’s thought.
After a surprisingly long, awkward walk, Hank reached Ryan’s can and piled Malcolm in there. Ryan, shocked, was about to ask what happened to Connor, but saw another RK800 model out of the corner of his eye. “Did you shoot the right one?” He asks.
“I would be dead right now if I didn’t, Ryan.”
“Hmm, True.”
Hank shut the door and made his way over to the other police car, head spinning. One thought stood out to him, though:
Damn, I need a drink.
So drink he did. He found the whiskey Connor had hidden(well, Connor found it for him without even being asked), and downed three fingers worth as soon as possible.
He let go of the breath he was holding and, for the first time since Malcolm’s confession, he dared to look at Connor. His LED was spinning yellow with a blink of red occasionally, and he was watching Hank nervously. “You look like you have something to say,” he said, half teasing him.
“…I do. Hank, what Malcolm was true. I’m sorry.”
He gave a crooked grin, but his eyes didn’t crinkle when he was truly smiling. “‘Was afraid of that.”
They were both silent for a while. “If I may be so bold, Hank, I would like to know if my feelings are requited.”
“Gonna have to ask at a later time, Connor. I’m still thinking about it.”
“…Oh. I see.”
Hank poured himself another shot.
“…Hank?” He drained the shot glass.
“Yeah, Con?” The nickname made Connor’s chest ache. The— what did humans call it?— friend-zoning physically hurt, and he had to take a second to recover.
After blinking a few times, he asked his question. “How did you know it was me?” Hank gave a short chuckle.
“Well, you’ve never called me Hank on the job. Why start now?”
Connor’s LED spun yellow for a second, and he tilted his head. Then went back to blue, and he smiled. “What a minute, unimportant detail to know about me, Hank.”
Hank grunted. “Yeah, why?”
His smile widened. “No reason. I’ll make you some dinner.”
Hank looked at him side-eyed. “… Everything alright, Con?”
Connor gave him a mock-confused stare.
“Of course. Everything’s almost perfect.”
Hank sighed with a small smile and poured another shot. Two fingers worth.