Work Text:
“Connor, it makes me nervous that you still haven’t started.”
Connor’s mouth and eyebrows were set in tight, concentrated lines. This task was the most important he’d been given yet, and he would not screw it up. He’d been entrusted with something absolutely precious: the Lieutenant’s hair. A sharp pair of scissors open in his right hand awaited commands from his brain to his fingers. Some hair-cutting tutorials downloaded from the internet might not be enough. This required his undivided attention - mistakes were unacceptable.
“Don’t be nervous,” he told Hank. “I’m just preconstructing how I’ll cut it.”
“Would you just go for it already?” Hank groaned, sat in a kitchen chair with a towel pinned around his shoulders. “It’s hair, it’ll grow back.”
“I’m almost ready.” Connor’s LED spun a steady yellow, which Hank saw reflected in the toaster. “Whether it will grow back or not is irrelevant. It’s my responsibility to make you look presentable today.”
“No, it’s my responsibility to make myself presentable,” Hank was quick to correct him. “You’re just...helping.” He was relieved when he heard the first metallic snip, meaning that Connor was done ‘preconstructing’ (his eyes rolled) at last.
Connor didn't agree with the sentiment that it wasn't his responsibility. “You’re in this mess because I--”
“Yeah, yeah, save it. I made my choice, I’ll live with the consequences,” Hank said, in a very ‘and that’s final!’ sort of way. This was a discussion they’d already had more than once, and he'd shut down any attempts to have it again.
Hank sure did make his choice...he chose to assault Richard Perkins to help Connor sneak into the evidence room. (And called him a ‘cocksucker’, couldn’t forget that.) That wasn’t going to slide by consequence-free, and after several months of the suit bouncing around the snail-paced legal system, today was his final hearing.
Considering how bad it could’ve been, his situation wasn’t very dire. Hank had a good lawyer, he’d already taken his disciplinary leave with the DPD, and to tip the scales further in their direction, Perkins had since been removed from his position at the FBI. Connor heard it was related to the wildly unpopular way he handled the android protest, but didn’t know most of the details.
Plenty of things had changed since the revolution. That included Hank's home, in which Connor now lived and had taken on most of the housekeeping out of gratitude. Not just for giving him a proper home - gratitude for all his help, his friendship...everything. This was the very least he could do.
Now all Hank needed to do was appear before a judge, look nice, show some remorse, and probably he'd end up paying a fine. To that end, he needed to look his very best. Appearances played a role here for better or worse, and it was the one element Connor felt he had some control over. His hands moved purposefully, littering Hank’s shoulders with more and more locks of silver hair.
His concentration unwavering, Connor didn’t say another word until he was completely done cutting. Only then did his temple shift from yellow to blue. “There.” Gently he brushed some hair from Hank’s shoulders, pulled off the towel and shook it out over the linoleum floor. “Go have a look! See if you like it.” He followed at Hank’s heels as he went for the bathroom and looked in the mirror over the sink.
Awaiting Hank’s opinion was more tense for Connor than the hearing itself would be. Hank turned his head in all directions to look over his partner’s work, raised his eyebrows and gave a hum of approval. “Damn, perfect work, Connor. It looks really good.”
Connor’s beaming face reflected in the mirror behind him, framed by his colorful sticky notes. “I’m glad.”
“Now to do something about this,” Hank gestured at his beard, picking up an electric beard trimmer.
“You aren’t gonna go clean-shaven, are you?”
“Hell no! It just needs a trim.”
Connor left him to it and went to sweep the kitchen. He managed to clean all the hair from the floor before Sumo could walk through and track it all over the house, then went to Hank’s room to help him pick out an outfit.
A few minutes later he popped up in the bathroom doorway, holding a suit on a hanger in each hand. “Which suit, Hank? The grey, or the blue?”
Barely looking away from his shaving, Hank glanced at the suits. “Uhh, I don’t know. The grey one.”
Connor pouted and held up the blue one. “But this one brings out the blue in your eyes...”
Hank snorted. “Why ask me, then? What are you, my wife?”
The question had Connor’s eyes wide, stunned as he tried to decide if he needed to answer that. He was still mastering this concept of rhetorical questions.
“T-tell you what, I trust your judgement so much, I’ll let you pick what I’m gonna wear,” Hank stammered and shooed Connor away. Connor nodded. He loved being trusted with things.
“In that case, the blue.”
Connor took them both back to Hank’s room and hung the grey one up in the closet. The blue one was laid neatly on the end of Hank’s bed, and Connor went hunting for a perfect tie to match.
It was an adventure, sifting through all his ties and trying to imagine what was going on in Hank’s head when he bought them. They ranged from kitschy to downright hideous. Admittedly, Connor found the one with the tropical fish design on it charming, but it certainly wouldn’t do today.
He was able to select a nice, tasteful one with a subtle pattern and set it on top of the suit, along with the best dress shirt he could find. The buzzing sound from the bathroom had ceased, and Hank came in to his bedroom looking distinctly neater.
“I hope this ensemble will be okay.”
“Like I said, I trust your judgement.” Hank gave Connor a sidelong glance and a crooked smile. Eager to see the full transformation, Connor excused himself to let Hank change and waited in the hall.
Hank emerged looking less than comfortable, but the improvement was substantial. Arms held out at his sides, he looked questioningly at Connor. “So, what do you think? Imagine you’re a judge, you wanna go easy on me?”
Connor stepped closer and scanned him from top to bottom. The suit fit well and was in good condition, a very flattering look on a man with big, strong shoulders and arms like Hank. Such a refreshing change of pace from his typical dressed-down self.
Connor also liked the way Hank’s hair didn’t crowd his face as much - you could see those bright blue eyes more easily. Not to even mention the cleaning up of his beard, which totally transformed the shape of his face. Of course, after this, he was sure Hank would simply let it all grow out again, but he’d enjoy it for now.
“Wonderful. You clean up nice,” was Connor’s verdict. He picked up only one flaw, eyes settling on the knot of his tie. It was a bit sloppy (by RK800 standards) so he straightened it out for Hank, pulling it a bit tighter around his neck until it looked perfect.
Hands gently sliding over his shoulders to straighten out some wrinkles, Connor considered Hank’s face. His head tilting a little to one side, Connor stared at him with a look in his eyes that could only be called ‘adoring’, and smiled. “Very handsome.”
Right away, he detected an increase in Hank’s heart rate. Hank averted his gaze, muttered a ‘thanks’ and shuffled away. How curious. Was he not good at taking compliments? The idea made Connor giggle. Maybe he needed to compliment Hank more often.
---
The hearing went as well as expected, and daily life for Hank continued much like usual. Connor remained on at the DPD (as an employee, not property, thanks to the new android laws that were slowly but surely taking effect) and kept working as Hank’s partner on homicide cases. Hank fought for him to get the job, so he had that to be grateful to him for, as well.
Hank still spent a lot of his free time in bars, but now he often brought Connor with him. Jimmy had rescinded his ‘No Androids Allowed’ policy, at least officially - the sign outside was taken down and the anti-android graffiti in the bathrooms was covered up, but it was only to be compliant with the new discrimination laws. His sentiment had hardly changed. Connor was the only android that actually came in here and Jimmy never gave him a hard time, since Hank was a friend.
“He’ll come around”, Hank told Connor when he expressed feeling awkward about it. Hank hadn’t steered him wrong yet, and the more time passed the more it seemed he was right about this, too. Every time Connor walked in, he detected a little less irritation on Jimmy’s face, so by now maybe he was neutral about his presence here.
The bar was the most crowded Connor had ever seen it. Detroit was in the NBA Finals, something Hank wouldn’t miss for the world. It was a painfully close game, running into overtime, and all the bar’s patrons had reached their peak of drunken excitedness...though Hank could probably out-do the lot of them.
For his part, Connor really enjoyed watching basketball. He could preconstruct the player’s movements, imagine hundreds of potential outcomes, yet still be surprised, so it was always exciting for him.
During a commercial break, Hank tried to order one more drink. “Hank, your blood alcohol concentration is already well above the legal limit,” Connor scolded as he stopped him. “You promised to just have two beers tonight, remember? You’ve had way more than that!” Hank grumbled and pouted, but didn’t argue any further. Connor would forgive him for breaking his promise, just this once, because they were having so much fun. Next time he wouldn’t be so lenient.
Woozy on his feet, Hank had his arm draped over Connor’s shoulders, weight leaned on his deceptively sturdy frame. Connor kept him securely in place with his arm around Hank’s torso - it felt like a necessary measure. Their attention returned to the game as the clock started again. It was so close, Connor swore he could feel the thirium pumping in his throat. He’d somehow become as emotionally invested in the outcome as Hank!
“If we lose, I’m gonna fuckin’ shoot myself, I swear to God,” Hank said.
Okay, maybe not quite as invested.
“Don’t say such a thing, Hank! It is just a game. Besides, we can still...” Connor stopped when Detroit intercepted. They swiftly moved the ball down court, and landed the shot they needed to win the game. The bar erupted.
Hank was so excited he jumped up and down, making Connor jump with him, both cheering and shouting at the tops of their lungs. Seeing Hank so happy did Connor’s heart good, and was even better than watching the Gears win.
Next, though, came something he couldn’t have ever predicted. Hank roughly grabbed Connor with both hands, smashing their faces together and planting a big kiss right on his mouth. It was over in a flash, and Hank was right back to cheering as if he hadn’t just done that.
Connor was left to reel.
He analyzed the sequence of events, and re-ran them, and analyzed them again, so rapidly his brain could short. Questions...so many questions. Like ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘what?!’ This was not typical Hank behavior by any stretch.
‘He’s drunk,’ Connor reminded himself. ‘Of course, he’s completely hammered!’ He was acting silly because he was drunk. That was all. It was a victory kiss, a drunken impulse.
Hank was still celebrating his team’s win, so blissfully removed from his partner’s crisis. Connor’s cheeks flushed. The little trace of Hank left behind on his lips held all his attention - tiny amounts of alcohol and germs. Hank just kissed him. He couldn’t un-kiss him. That was now a permanent, unchangeable fact, that Hank and Connor had kissed. Moreover, it was Connor’s very first.
Connor couldn’t allow himself to stand here all night thinking about it. First and foremost, Hank was heavily intoxicated and needed to get home. He squeezed his way through the crowd around the bar to get to Hank, who had joined in a group chant of “We’re Number One!”. Much longer here, he’d start trying to ask Jimmy for drinks again.
“All right, Lieutenant, let’s get you home,” Connor said with a pat on the man’s back. Hank cursed and slurred something about how Connor was a ‘wet blanket’, but to Connor’s relief he actually went along with him without a fuss. ‘He’s a bit like Sumo,’ Connor thought. ‘All bark and no bite.’
Connor’s temple flashed and he blinked rapidly. “I’ve called us a taxi, it will be outside any moment.” Hank was unsteady on his feet as ever, and relied heavily on Connor’s strong shoulder as they walked out to wait for their ride. Outside was pleasantly quiet compared to in the bar. “I hope you’ll forgive me for cutting the evening short, but I think it’s in your best interest to get home and get some sleep.”
“Yeah, yeeeaaah,” Hank groaned. “We stayed ‘til the end of the game, s’all that matters…”
“What an agreeable mood you’re in,” Connor said brightly. Their automatic taxi arrived, and Connor attempted to help Hank into the back seat. Despite his efforts to make it go smoothly, his head hit the top of the door with a loud thunk.
“YOWCH!”
“Careful there, Hank!” Connor did a quick scan for injuries. It wasn’t anything serious, just a little bruise. He settled into the back with Hank, the door gliding shut behind him. “Are you okay?”
“M’fine…” Hank rubbed at the sore spot, slouching in his seat and looking up at Connor. “Would’ve hurt less if I coulda had one more beer.”
The ability to be retain such snark while this intoxicated was almost impressive. Connor could have gone on the offensive, reminding Hank that he’d promised and subsequently failed to limit himself to two in the first place. Instead he chose the diplomatic (laced with sarcasm) approach.
“I apologize for denying you. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me one day.”
“Pssshh, I can’t stay mad at yoouu.” Hank reached up and squeezed one of Connor’s cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a clumsy gesture that might have hurt if Connor’s flesh weren’t artificial. “Yer jus’ lucky you’re so damn cute!”
‘Cute’. That was the word Hank chose. Cute? He found Connor cute? Finding this contradicted another statement from Connor’s memory, he laughed. “Hank, I seem to recall you telling me I was goofy-looking. Remember? That first time we went to Chicken Feed?”
“Gahh, I was bein’ a JERK!” Hank barked. “I was all salty about havin’ to work with an android, and I took it out on you...I was bein’ a jackass...” Hank slumped further down in his seat, using Connor’s upper arm as a pillow. He looked like he would pass out any second. “Forget aaallllll that shit I said. You’ve always been cute, Connor.”
Here Connor found himself again, analyzing and re-analyzing until he thought his circuit board could explode. ‘Hank is exceptionally drunk,’ he repeated like a mantra. ‘It’s making him say and do crazy things.’ He glanced down at the man, whose eyes were closed and his consciousness rapidly slipping away. Another quick scan to make sure he was okay - yes, he would be fine. Bit hungover tomorrow, maybe.
‘He must think I’m cute like a little kid,’ Connor thought. ‘Or like a puppy or something.‘
It was a nice sentiment regardless, right? It was a compliment no matter how he looked at it. That meant it was okay that it made Connor feel so good to hear it...right?
The taxi arrived in front of Hank’s house, and Connor had to nudge Hank awake and practically carry him out of the car and to the front door. “Almost there, Hank, we just gotta make it to your bed and then you can sleep all you want.”
With a grunt, Hank flopped onto his mattress. All the springs creaked loudly as if crying out in agony. Connor left him for only a moment, returning with a glass of water. “I’m leaving some water by your bed,” he explained, unsure if Hank was even listening. “You’re going to be very dehydrated, so drink up when you can, okay?”
Noticing Hank still had his shoes on, Connor untied them and yanked them off his feet. Attempting to get him into some sleep clothes was not a struggle Connor was willing to undertake just now...even androids had their limits. Hank would have to sleep in his jeans.
In an attempt at making it a little more comfortable, Connor carefully pulled the comforter over Hank, fluffed a pillow to place under his head, and tucked him in. “I could’ve made a pretty good AX400,” he mused aloud.
“If you try to tell me a bedtime story, I’m throwing you in a wood chipper.”
“Ah, so you are still awake.” He gave Hank a pat on the head, being just as patronizing as possible. “Sleep tight, Hank. Pleasant dreams.”
He responded by snorting and rolling over, but a soft chuckle let Connor know he found the humor in his teasing. His eyes were closed, voice muffled by his face half-buried in his pillow. “Don’t I get a night-night kiss?”
Was Hank being sarcastic again? Surely that was a joke. It was a strange impulse Connor had, but something inside him was telling him to do it anyway. Hank couldn’t complain since he’d asked, joke or no. After a beat of hesitation, Connor leaned down and gave the lightest, most innocent peck imaginable on Hank’s cheek.
Nervous, he awaited a reaction, unsure if he’d be yelled at, reprimanded, or what. All he got was the sound of Hank’s soft snore. All his tension drained away, and he softly laughed in his relief. “Good night, Hank.”
---
Hank never mentioned any of the things that happened that night, and Connor never brought them up. As suspected, he was probably too inebriated to remember. He wouldn’t do things like kiss Connor or call him cute while sober - he’d certainly not done them again since. Two months went by, and Connor didn’t breathe a word about any of it.
‘Being a deviant kind of...sucks,’ Connor thought at work one afternoon. Of course he didn’t really mean it, but boy was he ever getting sick of having feelings. Emotions were great and all until they started to become an ugly jumbled mess, which was precisely what Connor’s were doing lately.
That night at the bar made him acknowledge things he hadn’t thought about before. Things like his relationship with Hank, what he wanted out of it. Oh yes, that lovely ‘wanting’ thing! He was a deviant, so he could want things now. Another crappy feeling he would rather not have.
Personal relationships might have been new and largely unexplored territory for Connor, but he still knew one of the biggest pitfalls. If you try to turn a professional or platonic relationship into something else, it can backfire, hard. You can end up with nothing at all. To lose his bond with Hank would be the worst thing Connor could imagine, so it wasn’t worth the risk.
He told himself this every single day.
Most days he could tolerate it just fine, but this...this was testing the limits of his patience. While sitting at his desk looking through case files, he was forced to overhear the conversation taking place three feet away. Detective Collins had stopped by Hank’s desk and the two were chatting about various things, none of which Connor paid any attention to until the topic of trying to set Hank up on a date arose.
“Fuckin’ forget about it Ben, I am not gonna let you set me up!”
“Why the hell not? You really haven’t been on one date since the divorce? You can’t be planning on staying single forever!”
“Sure I can! Did it occur to you I might like being single?”
“One date isn’t gonna kill ya. My wife has this girlfriend that’s still single, she’s real cute-”
“I don’t care,” Hank interrupted with a dismissive handwave. “Thank you so much for your charitable offer, but I do not need you to find me a woman!”
“Alright, I know some single guys too!” Ben said, and Hank couldn’t help but laugh at his persistence. “Remember Roddy, from the barbecue? You two seemed to hit it off.”
“For Christ’s sake, Ben…”
Connor didn’t care to keep listening to this nonsense, either. He switched off his audio processor, and he’d leave it off until Collins was gone. He pretended to be deeply focused on his work. Case files had never been so engrossing!
Minutes later, a hand waved in front of his face and snapped its fingers. He switched his audio processor back on just in time to hear Hank say “Earth. To. Connor! Hello!”
“Sorry about that, Lieutenant,” Connor said. “I was concentrating.” Damn...how long had he been trying to get Connor’s attention? By the look on his face, too long. His brow furrowed while he looked Connor over.
“What’s the matter with you?” Hank asked pointedly, and reached out to touch Connor’s forehead, as if checking for a fever. “You feeling okay?”
Ironically, the gesture made Connor flush, heat flooding into his cheeks and ears. Why androids were built to get a rush of thirium to the face under certain situations, he’d never understand, but he’d curse it to the end of his days. “Of course I’m okay, you know I don’t get sick.” He tried to shrug away from Hank’s hand as inconspicuously as possible. “Did you need something?”
“Uhh...Just wondering if the report from yesterday was ready for me to sign,” he said, still frowning. Unconvinced.
Connor forced a polite smile. Everything was normal, he was fine. “It is. I’ll get it for you.” He stood up and got away from his desk as quickly as he could without looking weird. What he really wanted was to run, to get the hell out of here.
A minute later he was back with the report, pages neatly stacked and stapled at a flawless 45-degree angle, and put it on Hank’s desk. Settling back into his chair, his eyes drifted over and watched Hank’s hands. His thick fingers tapped the surface of his desk and idled a pen while he read.
Connor remembered the touch on his forehead a moment ago, and previous touches, and knew those hands were softer than they looked. He wanted to feel them on his skin again, for longer this time, so he could map out each little callous and scar and commit them all to memory.
Connor closed his eyes, wishing he could literally slap himself. ‘I can’t even look at his hands without thinking stupid amorous thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me?’
He’d been so good lately. For weeks he had it all under control, wasn’t letting it consume his thoughts and get him all distracted. So why now?
Either way, he definitely had to get out of the station before he suffocated. He decided he’d faff about pretending to work for another twenty minutes or so, then he’d leave. The instant his mental timer hit zero, he quietly logged off the terminal and got up.
“Connor? Where ya going?”
“All finished, so just heading out early today. See you later, Lieutenant.” With that he took off swiftly before Hank could question him any further.
He didn’t actually know where he wanted to go, just that he wanted to get away. To be as far from Hank as his feet and a few dollars’ taxi fare could get him.
Without a particular destination in mind, he wandered downtown for a while. There were plenty of cafes around, but cafes weren’t great hangout places for him on his own. Connor could actually consume food and drinks in small amounts, but it wasn’t common knowledge that androids with that capability existed, so he’d always get weird looks. There was lots of shopping, but Connor didn’t feel like spending money, so after browsing a few store windows he quickly got bored.
Eventually, when he ran out of ideas, he found himself at Riverside Park. A dumb place to be, he was well aware, since the goal here was to not think about Hank, and this place was tied to little but memories of Hank. The childs’ play area was empty, probably too late in the day for most parents to bring their kids out, and pedestrians were few and far between. Connor leaned on the railing overlooking the river, hoping to use the solitude to untangle the mess of thought trails in his own head.
It was July now, humid and balmy as the sun began to set, and even after dark it would be pleasantly warm out. A far cry from the first time Hank brought him here on a frigid November night. The memory of having a gun pointed at his head didn’t really bother him, oddly. Any number of things that happened before he deviated never seemed to bother him, and Hank had apologized more than enough for things he said and did during that time. Connor didn’t do grudges.
Being a machine really was nice that way, he mused. Emotional armor. Now he could be damn near on the verge of crying just from looking at a pair of hands he longed desperately to touch and couldn’t. He closed his eyes for a moment, biting back that urge even now.
What upset him more about that conversation, he wondered? The idea of Hank going on a date, or the idea that he was determined to remain single? Seeing Hank with someone else would be agony, so he supposed seeing him single and not being able to do anything about it was...preferable. Maybe there wasn’t a straightforward answer.
Over an hour passed with Connor staring at the river alone. He didn’t have to turn around to know he’d been found. The moment he heard the car parking nearby and the crunch of footsteps on gravel, he knew.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Just a hunch,” Hank said behind him. Connor didn’t spare a look in his direction, not even when he came up to the railing and leaned on it with him, looking at Connor’s profile. He could imagine the sort of expression Hank must have had, though. Worried, a little annoyed. “You know, I can’t help but worry about you when you take off like a bat outta hell AND turn off your phone,” he said. Yep, right on the nose.
“Sorry to make you worry. I didn’t mean to.” It didn’t sound insincere, but it didn’t invite further questions, either. Not that he expected that would stop Hank.
“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Right again.
“It's nothing to be concerned about.” Connor offered a smile that tried its best to be reassuring. “I’m having kind of a bad day, that’s all.”
“Bad day my ass,” Hank snapped. “It’s not just today. Lately, you keep...staring off into space, givin’ me that ten yard stare every time I talk to you. You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Damn it. Not good. He really wasn’t going to let it go. Even though Connor knew the longer he stayed quiet the deeper he dug his own grave, he couldn’t do a thing but stare wordlessly at the water below. He didn’t have a backup excuse. Stupid of him not to think of one earlier.
Hank gave a big, frustrated sigh. “Look...you’re obviously sad about something, and I wasn’t gonna bug you about it in case you were just having a bad day or two, but it’s enough already.” Hank leaned further over the rails, trying to get a clear look at Connor’s face. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. If I didn't at least try to help, what kind of partner would I be?”
Suddenly, Connor had to smile. Hank meant well, truly he did. He was always like that, putting up a front like he didn’t care, then turning around and showing that he did. “Sad, huh?” Connor chuckled, trying to imagine what he must’ve looked like recently. It was an embarrassing mental image. Knowing that he was cornered and couldn’t run from Hank any longer, Connor gave a resigned shake of his head. “No, it’s not that I’m sad.”
“Then what?”
Connor chewed on his words a moment, let them roll around on his tongue. They felt like the right ones...at least he was pretty sure they were. Nothing left but to spit them out. “I’m in love with you,” he said, with a calmness he hadn’t expected from himself. His eyes met Hank’s, which of course had gone wide with surprise. “I think I have been for a while, probably. But only recently did I...understand that’s what this was.”
After a tense pause, Hank straightened his back. He inhaled deeply through his nose and huffed it out through his mouth, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Does this...does it, uh...have anything to do with me kissing you at the bar the other night?”
Connor’s eyebrows went up. “You remember that?”
“Yeeaah...I actually remember that whole night,” Hank admitted.
Connor wondered if that included him kissing Hank goodnight or not, but was afraid to ask. “I see.” He gave it some thought, wondering if that really was when it began. “That kiss kind of forced me to confront how I felt, so you might say it was something of a catalyst.” Yeah, that was about right. It wasn’t like he fell in love with Hank that night. He just...looked up and realized he’d already fallen.
“So no, I’m not sad. I’ve had a lot to think about, is all.” Connor’s hands clasped together in front of him and twirled his thumbs anxiously. He never wished so badly to have a coin to play with.
“That was two months ago,” Hank observed. “All this time, you didn’t say anything…”
“Well I’m not delusional, Hank!” Connor exclaimed, turning to face him. “I know you getting drunk and kissing me doesn’t...doesn’t change…” He struggled with the nicest way to put this. “I mean...you used to hate androids. I know you don’t anymore, but I can hardly imagine you’d ever accept one as a romantic partner. I don’t have any expectations like that.”
All of a sudden, there was a hurt in Connor’s chest. He knew this all along, but saying it out loud made it much too real. Meanwhile Hank was staring at him, dumbstruck, just the way Connor was afraid he would, and he quietly panicked as he feared he’d gone and said something stupid.
“It makes me happy being your partner, and your friend,” Connor assured him. He smiled and shook his head. “Above all, I don’t want to lose what we have. I’m happy living and working with you, I want to keep doing those things, so...things can stay the way they are, I’ll be happy with that.” A wet heat pricked at the corners of his eyes, having formed there at some point while he was talking.
“Connor…” Hank exhaled, concern etched in his features while he looked at him. “How many times are you going to stand there and say you’re happy while you have tears in your eyes?”
Something, some last little thread holding Connor’s composure together, snapped like an old rubber band. His tears fell freely, streaking his cheeks with saline. He’d never cried before today. All androids produced tears to keep their optical units clean; only deviants wept. “I just want so much more,” his voice broke. “I can’t help it. I know I’m your partner, I know I’m your friend, but I want to be more. I want to be more important to you than anyone else. I'm sorry, I know it's selfish, but I--”
“Hey, come on now,” Hank moved in immediately, wiping Connor’s tears away with his thumbs. His touch was so kind and gentle, it only made Connor cry even more. Hank tutted disapprovingly and shushed him. “Please don’t cry. You’re such a sweet guy, Connor...the last thing you need in the world is to cry over an idiot like me.”
“You’re not an idiot.” His voice was embarrassingly whiny, and coupled with his sniffling it made him feel like a little kid.
“Yes, I am. Only an idiot would allow someone so...so damn lovable to ever doubt that he was loved.”
Connor blinked, the wetness gradually dissipating from his eyes. Hank’s word choice was absolutely not lost on him, and he waited on pins and needles for him to continue. In spite of himself, he dared to hope it meant what he thought it meant.
“You already are the most important person to me.” Hank was a touch red in the face, Connor noticed, and he took a deep breath, both resolved and exasperated, like he’d been holding back for ages. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you so sooner, I should have. I’ve been thinking about this stuff too, and...yeah, honestly, I did feel kinda weird about it. But not for the reasons you think! You being an android hasn’t got a damn thing to do with it! It’s all me, my personal issues. It’s real complicated, Connor.
“...But I love you. Like, I really fuckin’ love you, and if there’s even a tiny chance you could be happy with someone like me, I wanna take it.” He roughly ran his hand back through his hair and looked at his feet. “I don’t wanna be the reason you’re hurting. I won’t! I’ll get my shit together. I’ll do anything to make you happy...I mean, you know, if you’ll have me.”
Connor changed his mind. He’d never speak ill of emotions or being a deviant ever again. Having feelings was amazing.
“IF I’ll have you?! Of course I will!! You’re really okay with dating an android?! You’d let an android be your boyfriend?!”
Hank gave a snort of laughter at Connor’s reaction. It was too cute, he’d never seen Connor like this. “Not for any old android, but for you? Hell yeah, I would.”
Wanting to say it in no uncertain terms, to make sure he couldn’t possibly be misunderstood, Connor grabbed both of Hank’s hands and looked him dead in the eye. “Then I wanna be your boyfriend.”
Hank gently squeezed his hands and beamed, his warm smile the sweetest sight Connor could imagine. “Only if I can be yours.”
Connor blushed and huffed, unable to keep still. He was beside himself. This was huge...at least as big as the day he deviated, if not bigger. “May I kiss you?!”
Hank’s answer was to kiss him first. Instantly his lips were on Connor’s. It took Connor a long time to realize he should close his eyes, but this was only his second kiss...he could be forgiven for a little ignorance. After a few elated seconds, he tried to kiss back, to return some of the pressure Hank was giving.
When he did, Hank inhaled sharply, redoubling and kissing him even harder, making happy sparks of positive feedback shoot all over Connor’s brain. It was a pleasure beyond anything he’d known before. When Hank’s hands moved up to hold the sides of his face and those thick fingertips bristled in his hair, he went over the moon.
By the time Hank broke away, Connor all but had to reboot himself to be able to form words again. “So...this is something you really want, right?” he asked softly. “You aren’t just feeling guilty because of me or anything...”
“Of course I do!” Hank said. “Hey, have I ever lied to you before?”
When Connor thought about it, he shook his head and smiled. “No, you haven’t.” A wave of relief washed over him, the last remnants of his doubts and fears seeping away. It didn’t even occur to him to feel foolish for waiting this long to tell Hank the truth, though it easily could have. He had far too much to be excited for in the future to think about the past. Even the immediate future, like going home tonight with Hank. Just like every night, only completely different.
His arms wrapped around Hank’s shoulders and slowly brought their lips together once more. He wanted to enjoy Hank’s closeness and warmth just a little longer before they had to go, to feel that light tickle from his beard and those strong arms that tightened around his waist. Now that he had this, he knew much better than to let moments like these slip away.