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Hank has made many mistakes over the course of his life.
Sure, none of them got him killed - he’s still here, isn’t he? - but mistakes they were all the same.
He worked too much, no time for friends, just because he needed a purpose.
He drank like a bottomless pit just to wake up with the realization it would never be enough to escape.
He married a woman that he didn’t love just because she carried a child that he could love, only to have it taken away after six short years, again, by a stupid mistake.
The biggest problem is, he doesn’t fucking learn. His dumb old brain seems intent on doing the same damned thing over and over again. ‘Let’s get attached!’ it says, and then it’s surprised when a necessary lifeline it’s constructed breaks away. Whether through death or purposeful abandonment, it doesn’t matter: He has the unfortunate tendency to build his existence upon things, fragile things, things that can leave and whither and die .
And Connor? Connor can’t die. But you know what he can do?
Leave.
“Thank you.” the bastard had said when they had handed him his first paycheck - on a reader, mostly symbolic. He had thanked them for basic human rights and Hank would have throttled him right then and there if he hadn’t been so unbearably sad all of a sudden.
It’s unfair of him. It also doesn’t make any sense - He wants Connor to be happy, to figure out who he is, to have a life apart from… apart from Hank. But then why does it hurt so much when there’s the actual opportunity for Connor to be free? To get a flat somewhere nice, buy actual food, have actual friends? Why does it scare him?
‘It’s a human thing’, is what he tries to tell himself, ‘feelings don’t have to make sense’
But is it? Or is it just Hank being stupid, like always?
In the end it always comes back to this:
Hank Anderson is a failure and he knows it. Swallows the certainty of the thought with every drop of scorching liquid down his throat, every night.
He can still taste the scotch on his lips this morning and he knows he reeks of it as well. The precinct is empty this early in the morning and the few colleagues that are actually in yet stopped frowning at him in distaste years ago, but now they just… don’t look.
He isn’t sure what he prefers.
There’s the file for a new case on his desk, nothing much, just theft with a side of property damage, but hey. What did he expect?
“Lieutenant?”
Oh. Yeah. Should’ve expected that .
Hank turns around in his chair and nearly hits his forehead on Connor’s plastic nose. The Android has the audacity to not even look spooked.
“Jeez, Connor, give a guy some space”, he grumbles when the initial surprise has worn off, but the slight tease doesn’t relax Connor’s expression by a fraction.
“Are you unwell, Hank?” he pries, face still uncomfortably close - undoubtedly checking for clues on Hank’s health “You arrived approximately five hours before your usual time. And your alcohol levels are unusually high this morning.”
Ah.
“Well, forgive me for wanting to celebrate your new riches!” Hank exclaims with false cheer. Connor picks up on it, of course he does.
Damn the interrogation function to hell.
“Hank, you didn’t return home yesterday. Surely, if you wanted to celebrate my accomplishments, you would’ve done so with me, not alone.”
“Who says I was alone?”
Connor only raises a perfect eyebrow. Fucker.
“Oh come on. You can’t have missed me that much.”, Hank tries to joke, but it just comes out desperate. A strange expression flickers over Connor’s face and his LED flashes yellow, as if the idea of missing Hank is new to him, an unfamiliar line of code.
Finally, the android heaves a very human sigh and sits down on the corner of the desk, putting some space between them.
“Sumo didn’t appreciate your absence.” he says and ah fuck, there comes the guilt. Hank winces.
“Sorry”, he tries, “I didn’t mean to - I… ugh, I’ll bring him some treats later.” A mistake, again. Because Connor just crosses his arms and frowns, looking at him as if he’s trying to read the code running through his mind. Only there is no code because Hank is human and stupid as all hell.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Look, Connor, I-” Hank tries, but it just trails off into nothing. He doesn’t even know what he was going to say. That he regrets being a bother? That it’s not fair to rely on Connor for the care-taking of his own fucking dog? That somehow, at some point, that perfect, goofy Android became a necessity to him?
After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he seems to take pity on him, for some reason.
“Hank… where were you all of last night? I was -”, the Android interrupts himself to brush the ever-curling strand of hair from his forehead and clear his throat “- I must admit, I was looking forward to celebrating my ‘new riches’ as you put it.”
Oh god. Did Connor just sit in the house all night, waiting to be allowed to celebrate? Hank opts for putting a hand on Connor’s knee and patting it gently.
“Oh, Connor. You don’t need me or my permission to have a party, you know that right? You could’ve gotten Markus to come over!”
His words are another mistake, apparently - Connor looks at him as if he’d suddenly started singing ‘pink fluffy unicorns’.
“I am fully aware that I don’t need your permission for anything anymore. Perhaps I didn’t phrase myself accurately: I was looking forward to have dinner with you. That’s how you celebrate, isn’t it?”
Oh damn. This android is gonna be the death of him.
Hank chuckles, but it sounds empty, even to him.
“Yeah, that’s how I celebrate but you can celebrate however you like! You don’t have to-”
Connor looks like he’s very done with him in that moment. Very, very done.
“Hank, stop making this so difficult. I am aware of what I am free to do, I simply chose to - I wanted to have dinner with you and you- you just- “
Stammering. Huh.
In the end, he sighs, massaging the skin around his LED with a grimace. Then suddenly, as if he came to a surprising conclusion, his eyes twitch and he straightens up, arms in parade rest.
“I apologize for taking up your time, Lieutenant”, he says, emotionless, expressionless, polite, “I understand my presence is hard to endure sometimes, I shall leave you to your work.”
And with that, he is gone.
What the hell?
Hours are longer when you’re waiting for something. For someone .
It feels like eons until Hank can leave without arousing suspicion, another millennium passes until he’s at his car on- wait. His car.
Why is his car still here?
He frowns, fiddling with the keys inside his pocket. Connor always takes his car, he says he likes driving himself, makes him feel… what did he say? Nostalgic . So did he walk home? Or, and the thought drops like lead into his chest, did he even go home?
‘Maybe he’s already left you’, his brain supplies, ‘You were a right dick to him.’
He's sure it's true, it must be true, but ... what the hell did he do to make him look so sad?
He pulls the car door open and it complies with a creak.
A sense of dread fills his mind when he bends to squeeze himself behind the steering wheel and sees the cup of coffee on the dashboard.
Connor .
When he takes a quick sip, he realizes it’s hazelnut and goddamn , what did he do to deserve this? He makes Connor feel sad and the bastard gets him his favorite coffee in return.
He’s nearly dreading what he’s going to find at home, and when he pulls up to his house, only stopping once on the way for some dog treats, he knows his gut was right.
The lawn is freshly mown, the little pathway neatly swept, it looks like there’s fresh flowers in the pots right next to the front door and nothing makes sense anymore.
Hank can’t believe this is even the same house - it looks like someone - Connor - spent the last eight solid hours cleaning every last fraction of this place. At least that answers that question. His key turns in a perfectly polished door that leads into a perfectly polished living room and what even isn’t perfectly polished in here?!
There’s a Chicken Feed box on the dinner table, a cold beer - non-alcoholic - accompanying it, Jazz chiming joyfully on his record player.
But Connor is nowhere to be seen.
He looks in the bathroom first, even though it would be incredibly unreasonable for Connor to be there. For some reason, imagining him in his bedroom of all places makes him feel … strange.
But of course, that’s where he is.
When Hank gently pushes the door open, Connor is standing with his back to him, rummaging through his clothes, sorting out wrinkles and folding socks .
For a few seconds, Hank just watches, transfixed. Then he whispers, trying not to frighten the Android: “Hey.”
Connor positively jumps and within the blink of an eye, he’s placed everything he was doing carefully within the closet and closed its door with quick hands.
When he turns around, there’s a tight smile on his tense face and his eyes are wide - scared .
“Hello, Lieutenant. W-welcome home.”, the Android stammers and stammering is so out of character for him that, for the first time in a while, Hank feels incredibly sober .
Jesus Christ what did he do?
“Hey. Connor, are you-” he takes a step towards him, but Connor flinches and Hank stops in his tracks.
“I apologize, Lieutenant.”, he forces out, “I will remove myself immediately, I didn’t manage to sort your wardrobe in time. Forgive me.” Hank can just stand there.
What. The hell. Is happening.
Connor seems to take his silence as disapproval, though, and - damn, is he shivering?
“Connor, what… I… Christ, you don’t have to clean my house! Why would you even think that?” But oh god, that was clearly another mistake because Connor twitches again and then fucking whimpers . Okay, okay, okay. You’re a cop, Hank, get it together.
“Are you - what’s going on with you? You-” he tries, softening his voice to what he would usually use on scared victims of assault, feeling like the biggest idiot in the universe, but Connor interrupts him - and his voice sounds like cut glass when he whispers:
“Please, Lieutenant, please just let me be useful.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Okay, Connor, I feel like we should just calm down here for a second and-”
But his hands are trembling.
“Please, please, please, please, please, I just need to be useful, that’s what I am, I’m useful, I can do things, please don’t make me go, please, Lieutenant, please-”
There is a point where enough is enough.
Hank takes three, four, five decisive steps towards Connor and pulls him against his chest, in a tight and (hopefully) reassuring embrace. The Android keeps babbling, pleading, begging against his chest for a few seconds, but then there’s just breathing.
Breathing and the quiet sounds of Connor’s little hiccups.
“There we go, Connor. It’s alright.”
To the rumble of his words, Connor’s arms come up around him and finally, they’re actually hugging. He’s missed this.
“Now come on and explain to me what the hell has got you so upset. What did I do?”
“N-nothing, Lieutenant.”
Aaand...that just won’t do. With a gentle shove, he gets Connor to back away a tiny bit, making sure he doesn’t take it as disapproval.
“How about we sit down somewhere and… talk.” God knows how much he hates talking. But what he hates much more? Mistakes. So they’re gonna talk, godammit, and if it kills him. Connor doesn’t seem to be on board, though, his back still rigid and looking every bit like the machine he decided not to be. The only tell are his fingers, pale and blue from the pressure of his knuckles, clutching desperately at Hank’s sleeves.
“Lieutenant, I-”
“Connor, it’s been Hank for months now. Please.”
Connor swallows, eyes darting through the room and that’s when Hank sees it: His LED is flashing red.
“H-hank, I am… very confused. Why do you - Why are you expressing… affection?”
Well.
“Clearly, I haven’t been doing the best job at that. Why wouldn’t I … ‘express affection’ … to you? I know I’m an asshole, but I l- I do like you, Connor.”
The Android’s face twitches and the LED changes to yellow. Processing.
But then it switches back to red. Does not compute , apparently.
“N-no, that’s…” Connor stammers “That doesn’t make any sense, there's conflicting information, I-”
“What the hell are you on about? When have I given you the impression that I don’t like you? I always want you around! All the time, in fact I- oh. Oh.” Hank’s frown dissolves into resigned regret. He closes his eyes.
Of course.
Of course it was his own stupid fucking fault. That’s just how it goes, isn’t it?
Connor’s eyes are molten chocolate in his pale face, so incredibly human yet somehow not , and how could Hank forget that? How could he forget that the Android is new to this business, so very, very new? How was he supposed to know?
God. If he could get his hands free from Connor’s grip, he’d slap himself.
“Connor. Did you think I didn’t want to see you yesterday? Or today?”
His gaze drops to the unusually clean floor with the quick flutter of perfect lashes.
“I couldn’t help but notice your sudden… disapproval of my presence once I was allowed to have my own money.”, the words are shaky, but somehow empty of real emotion all the same, “I apologize for taking up your space and time during the last few months, I understand I am to find my own living quarters as fast as possible.”
Hank’s heart skips a few beats only to start beating twice as fast in alarm. Judging by Connor’s sudden frown, he has noticed. How is he supposed to answer that? It all hurts .
He settles on “For fucks sake” as a start, because he’s still Hank and talking about emotions is positively exhausting. “You aren’t to do anything that you don’t want, okay? If you want to move out, then move out. If you don’t… then don’t.”
The Android shakes his head so fast that his perfectly placed hair gets in disarray.
“No, that’s not how it works, you don’t want me here but I swear I can be useful! I can prove to you how useful I am!”
Please don’t make me go.
Finally, Hanks dumb old brain gets with the program.
“Wait, you think you have to - what, prove yourself to be allowed to stay here? I-”
“It’s not about allowance!”, Connor interrupts firmly, loudly, desperately, “It’s - I just - I just want you to … to want me here. But I can't make you like me if I'm not useful and then-”
“Of course I want you here, Idiot! You think I just drink myself into oblivion for fun?”, they’re running in circles and he really just ought to say it, just say it you stupid asshole, just say it, here goes nothing, “... I thought you were going to leave, okay?”
It’s quiet as Connor blinks. Tilts his head. Blinks again. Frowns.
“… what?”
Hank sighs and sends a quick prayer in his head, to a god he doesn’t believe in. Then he steps closer, just a tad, and frees a hand from Connor’s death grip to splay his fingers on the Android’s jaw. His thumb strokes soft patterns into the artificial skin until it relaxes slightly.
One step at a time.
“Connor, I…”, goddamn those eyes , “I want you to be free, okay? You have every right to be, to make your own decisions. There’s so much out there that isn’t… this.”, he inclines his head to mean this house, this life, “So much that you haven’t seen and you're an ambitious guy... I thought you’d want to move on as quickly as possible. And that… that made me sad, alright? I didn’t want to come home and find out you were already gone. Taken off with your first paycheck.”
Connor’s jaw is slack in his gentle grip, mouth slightly open, surprise evident in every part of his face.
“I…”, he whispers, “I bought us dinner.”
Um. What?
“… What?”
Connor huffs a quiet breath and loosens the grip on Hank’s arm. His touch is soft like a feather now, just a caress.
“I bought us dinner, yesterday.”, he says and it sounds like a revelation, “That’s what I did with my first paycheck, Hank. I just… bought us dinner.”
The guilt cuts deep, a red hot blade, right through the heart. And if that doesn’t hurt like a bitch .
His mind conjures up a vivid picture of Connor, sitting at the kitchen table with steaming hot burgers for the both of them, wanting to make use of his newest upgrade for close-to-human consumption, that little crooked smile slowly dropping with the hours of his waiting.
And Hank never even came home.
God, he’s such an asshole.
“Shit, Connor, I - I’m so sorry. I should have just… come home. I would’ve loved a burger yesterday.” And the Android was trying to treat him, shit. Since Connor moved in, burger is not on his everyday food list anymore, so to have him pick some up himself, on purpose, for him… let’s just say it’s nice .
To Hank’s relief, a tiny little smile curls the corners of Connor’s mouth. He looks weirdly content now, like a puppy that’s been pet. And slowly, round and round, his LED turns a calm blue.
“Your burger is still here, if you want it. I heated it up for you.” he admits sheepishly, his hand coming up to cup Hank’s bigger one against his face. His fingers are warm, human, and it takes every single piece of Hank’s resolve to not just pull him closer and - actually .
“… what about you, Connor?”
The little smile turns into a smirk.
“I’m still here, too.”
And what is he supposed to do about that besides kiss the bastard?
Nothing, that’s what.
It’s not even awkward and that should really tell him something. It just feels right. This isn’t… it’s not like he hasn’t thought about this, is what he’s saying and Connor’s lips on his own feel natural, it makes sense, like they’re supposed to be here, the both of them, Connor and Hank in this room in this house, two idiots with zero communication skills, finally getting over themselves and their stupid assumptions.
And it's so clearly not a mistake.
After a minute or so, Hank needs to breathe and puts a sliver of distance between them, only to open his eyes and immediately drown in the dark chocolate brown of Connor’s irises.
“Will you…”, Hank tries, clears his throat, and blushes when he can practically see Connor measure his stuttering heartbeat with a grin, “… Will you stay?”
The Android’s smile widens and he brushes a strand of hair out of Hank’s face to look him in the eyes. A subtle blue blush has spread on his cheekbones and across his nose. It’s quite possibly the cutest thing Hank has ever seen.
“Of course I will stay, Hank. As long as you want me.”
Aw hell.
“You’re gonna make an old man cry, Connor, Christ.”
But Connor just fucking giggles and pulls him by the hand out of his (their?) bedroom into the kitchen.
“Why do you emphasize your age so much, Lieutenant?”, he asks when he turns on the oven and gestures for Hank to help him heat the burgers, “I feel as if you carry it in shame, when you should be proud to have survived all that you have.”
“Oh come on, as if you aren’t the first to make fun of my age.”
Connor’s laughter chimes in sync with the blue flashes of his LED, Sumo barks his hello, and suddenly the world is warmer.
He never wanted Connor to become a necessity.
He wanted him to be a decision, a choice.
And in a way, he is.
Hank is going to choose him over and over again, every time.
And Connor will choose him right back.