Work Text:
Connor sits at the small dining table in Hank's kitchen. He runs his plastic fingers over the mug in his hands, it's cool against his synthetic skin. He mouths the words on it.
'number one dad'
He had thought it would be a sentimental gift, something to remind Hank of the good parts of fatherhood. While it's true Connor doesn't know much about Hank's life, especially the parts with Cole, he's sure Hank made an amazing father. There's a nagging worry in the back of his mind, that this is too far and will bring up painful memories. There's a stronger voice, saying he's lived with Hank for eight months now, and that even if it hits him in a soft spot, it can't be much worse than playing drunk russian roulette.
Connor hears Hank grumble from his bedroom. His LED flashes yellow. Panicked to find a place for the mug he jerks up from the table, stands in front of a wall, with the mug behind his back. Hank comes walking out approximately twenty seconds later, bedhead and all. Hank doesn't seem suspicious of Connor's awkward positioning, just continues walking to the coffee maker, "You won't scold me if I take my coffee Irish today, right?"
Connor offers him a warm smile, "Of course not, Hank." Hank nods, reaching for his absent mug. His brows furrow, "Connor where's my mug?" Connor tenses. Hank raises his eyebrows, awaiting his answer, "I bought you a new one, lieutenant." Hank looks confused, "Hank. And why? Did you fucking break the old one?" Connor shakes his head.
"Connor. I know you're new to this human thing, but you technically don't need a new mug unless the one you usually use is broken." Hank goes for the cabinets. Connor hesitantly brings the mug out from behind his back. The worries from earlier going haywire in his artificial brain.
Hank stares at it. Connor starts to think he overstepped when he thinks he sees tears. He contemplates walking away, leaving the house, never coming back. He feels embarrassment? No, shame? No something else. He feels like he's hurt Hank. He doesn't like this feeling, whatever it may be. He wishes he had never done this and-
Hank pulls him into a hug.
Connor reciprocates.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped, Hank. I had researched the holiday and thought it may be appropriate."
Hank chuckles in Connor's shoulder, pulling away to talk, "You didn't overstep, kid." Hank's voice sounds tight with emotion, "Thank you."
Connor smiles, "You're welcome, Hank. I'm glad you like it."
"I love it."