Work Text:
“One Too Many”
Connor sat on the couch, watching the basketball game on the TV, countless mathematical operations running throughout his brain as he calculated trajectories and percentages.
Mentally exercising during the downtime. Sumo’s head rested on his lap, the dog leaning against his legs, Connor idly petting him. Every time he stopped, Sumo whined and bumped Connor’s hand, starting the process anew.
Hank muted during the game during commercials, slowly drinking his way through a six-pack of beers. When he opened, and half downed the last one, Connor examined him silently, analyzing his bodily condition.
“Your blood alcohol concentration has reached 0.08, lieutenant. Operating a motor vehicle at this juncture would be illegal,” he said, filling in the silence between them.
One side of Hank’s mouth rose, and he chuckled. “Scanning me without permission, are you?”
Connor ducked his head. “I apologize for my rudeness. I couldn’t help but notice.”
“You could just talk in plain English, Connor. We’re not at work right now.”
“I understand,” Connor said, then hesitated briefly before saying, “You’re drunk off your ass, Lieutenant.”
Hank choked on his beer, going into a coughing fit. Connor slipped closer, Sumo moving away, patting Hank lightly on the back. When it finally passed, Hank wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, eyeing Connor. “Think you’re fucking cute, huh?”
“Was that wrong?”
Since breaking his programming to become a deviant, Connor had found himself feeling awkward and unsure about how to navigate the world. With no rules, it was hard to figure out what was right and what was wrong in terms of behavior.
“No,” Hank replied, using napkins to sop up the beer he’d spilled on himself after putting his drink down. Sumo padded over to lick up any alcohol that had dropped on the floor. “That was perfect.”
As Hank dumped the soiled napkins onto the side table, Connor went to remove his hand from Hank’s back. He blinked in surprise when his partner leaned into his side, Hank’s head coming to rest against Connor’s chest.
“Lieutenant?”
“I don’t know what I expected to hear,” Hank said. “Clicking and grinding noises? It’s just silent, though.”
He didn’t know what to say when Hank pulled away, turning so he faced Connor. His breathing was slow, pupils constricted. “I’ve been curious about this since the Eden Club. Are all of you made for human interaction?”
Connor’s brow knitted in confusion. “Are you asking if I’m anatomically correct, lieutenant?”
“Yeah, that.” Hank snorted. “And call me Hank, for god’s sake.”
“I am, yes. Why do you ask, Hank?” The name fell off his tongue easily. Connor had no idea how badly he wanted to move past the wall of formality until now.
Instead of answering him, Hank grabbed his shirt collar, yanking Connor forward.
As his mouth touched Connor’s, he froze, shocked and nearly overloaded with all the information Hank was unknowingly feeding him.
Connor could name every single ingredient of the beer Hank had consumed as well as the overall alcoholic content. What he had eaten a few hours ago and how little nutritional value it held.
Hank’s slightly decreased blood pressure, denoting his inebriated state. The thin layer of sweat starting on his forehead, Hank’s ambient body temperature, and the slight hike in his breathing.
Hank opened his eyes, peering at Connor curiously. He clicked his tongue, leaning back a bit, and reached up, putting his hand on Connor’s cheek. “You’re not even feeling it, are you?”
Connor stumbled to form words, feeling heat flood his cheeks. “You caught me off guard.”
“Do you want to try it again?” There was a warmth and gentleness in Hank’s gaze that silenced any misgivings Connor had about moving ahead into unfamiliar territory.
He nodded, and something inside him jerked as Hank grinned at him.
“Don't think, just feel. Give that brain of yours a rest.”
“I'll try, lieutenant.”
“Hank,” he insisted, clutching the back of Connor’s neck. Some of Hank's fingers stretched upward, touching the edge of his hairline.
“Yes, Hank,” Connor corrected, just before they came together again.
This time, when Hank kissed him, Connor closed his eyes, disregarding all the information his sensors fed him, taken aback at the soft texture of Hank’s lips on his.
There was a pleasant tingling starting in his limbs, and Connor raised a hand to grip Hank’s upper sleeve, his fingers fisting in the shirt material as Hank licked his bottom lip.
He bit it lightly before slipping his tongue against Connor’s, who jerked in surprise as sensation flooded his body. It was as if all the blood that ran in his veins heated up at once, and though Connor’s chest only rose steadily to simulate human behavior, just like the need to blink, his breath stuttered, losing its steady rhythm.
Hank retreated, looking at Connor in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Y-Yes, of course,” he said softly, inwardly alarmed at his largely involuntary reaction. Being out of control was new but not an unpleasant experience.
“Good,” Hank said before pushing Connor down on the couch, mouth moving past Connor’s lips and onto his neck. “It’s crazy how natural your skin is. If I didn’t know better…”
A sound lodged itself in Connor’s throat as Hank pulled hard on an area above his collarbone, finally leaking out when Hank blew on it as a groan.
Connor put a hand over his mouth, stunned it had come from him. Everything he said and did was precise and measured, thought out in every respect, and somehow Hank was circumventing that process.
It was...unnerving.
Connor dropped his hand to his side. “Hank.” The fingers unbuttoning his shirt paused mid-motion, Hank sitting up, looking down on Connor with a raised eyebrow. “This is too much.”
Hank nodded, beginning to pull back, Connor frowning at the rejection he saw in his partner’s face. He touched his arm, Hank looking at him in uncertainty. “What?”
“I want to make it clear that I don’t dislike this,” Connor explained, not wishing for any misunderstandings between them. “I merely need more time.”
Lowering his head, Hank started to laugh, the sound growing softer until it gradually died. Wetness glittered in Hank’s eyes, and he wiped it away, sighing. “You’re something else, Connor.”
“Is that a good thing?” Connor asked as Hank buttoned his shirt back up. He took his previous seat, and ran a hand over his head, slicking his hair back into place.
Sumo gave a low woof, his tail wagging, sitting in front of Connor again with hopeful eyes. Patting his lap, Connor smiled.
“Very.”