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Hank is tired as fuck. There isn't one ting he'd rather do today than go to bed right now. To hell with responsibilities. He's sure Connor won't mind if he just waits a little bit longer to do the laundry. It isn't even his clothes anyway. Shit, he can't believe he's being bossed around by an android. Oh, how the tables have turned.
He fumbles with the keys in his hand as he tries to find the right one. After a second or two he twists it in the lock and the door unlocks with a click. He's about to open it when he notices a strange sound coming from inside.
Thud, thud
What?
"Connor?"
No one answers. Hank raises a brow. He opens the door and the thuds get louder. Hank closes the door behind him and whipes off his feet before fully entering the house. He doubts it's Sumo that's making all the noice. Lazy fucking dog. His brows furrow. But then he sees the blue blood splatters on the wall and his stomach immediatley sinks.
"Connor?!"
It doesn't stop. Not that something like that could stop it, he's sure. He rushes to the hallway, already expecting the absolute worst. The last time his body moved so fast was when Cole was still alive, and that's quite a while ago. He's surprised he's still capable, but he guesses he has gotten better after he met Connor. That damn android. He rounds the corner, his mind is reeling. The image that greets him will forever haunt him.
"Connor!" He shouts, rushing towards the boy, who's currently bashing his head against the wall. "Stop it!" He grips his shoulders to hold him back. "Goddamnit, Connor," He yells. The android's face is completely covered in blue. More thirium coats the walls. "Stop!"
Sumo barks at the newfound commotion. He doesn't seem to understand the situation, but is clearly aware of his owner's distress.
Hank pulls him away harshly and holds him tightly in his arms against his chest, left hand supporting rhe back of his head, holding him as tight as he can. Anything to get him to stop. The android thrashes forcefully in his arms, and Hank has to use all his strength to hold him. Connors surprisingly strong compared to his size, but Hank guesses this is
"Shh," He tries to whispers into his ear. "It's okay," He says, as if Connor can actually hear him.
He hopes he does.
It doesn't take long until he eventually stops struggling. Murmuring comforting words into the androids ear. He doesn't even want to know what his clothes look like right now.
"Shit," He mutters under his breath. He feels weak as the adrenaline rush fades. Holy shit. He needs to sit down for a few minutes or some shit.
"H-hank?"
"Shit, Connor, you scared me."
"I'm sorry."
"Deviants have a tendancy to self destruct when they're in stressfull situations."
A lump forms in his throat. "How long have you been hitting your head like that?" He asks, almost feeling sick.
A beat. Connor squirms in his arms.
"I don't know."
The fact that it sounds like he truly doesn't know scares him. A lot.
Fuck.
His grip loosesns and he steps back to really check him over. He takes his face in his hands and turns him over, studying him. The blue blood, allthough a bit smudged now is still covering his face. He's surprised he hasn't gotten any of it in his eyes yet. (He's surprised by a lot of things Connor does, actually.) There's a circular gash in the middle of his forehead, nearly exposing what's inside his thick robot skull. His red cycling LED is a stark contrast against the blue.
"Oh, Connor..."
He looks awfull. Fucking miserable, and Hank feels miserable just looking at him. He's so scared. What could have happened to make him do this? Part of him needs to know, while the other part would rather not.
Judging by the bright red of his LED and the state of him, Hank doesn't need to guess to know that his stress levels are way higher than they should be.
Connor's body racks with a sob, absolutely shattering his heart. He pulls him close again, and rubs his back soothingly while Connor sobs harshly, gripping onto him for dear life, trembling like he's just been pulled out of a icy river.
"I'm sorry," He gasps between sobs.
Hank really hates this.
"It's okay, son."
His eyes wander to the wall. His house looks like a murder scene. Blue blood everywhere with a nice dent in the wall. He'll have to get it fixed, no doubt. He just hopes to god he's able to clean up the blood. It doesn't matter what color it is. It's still blood and thinking about where it came from makes him queezy.
He's glad androids don't feel pain. At least he's spared from that kind of suffering.
"It's okay."
He doesn't want to think about what he would have come home to had he been a minute or two later. He swallows hard, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. He can't afford to loose another son. Especially not now, when he's finally getting better.
God knows how long they stay like that. Connor's sobs subsides to small gasps and whimpers. Hank doesn't budge, whispering calming words and running his fingers though his short, brown hair until he calms down enough.
He pulls away and tries to smile reassuringly at him. It's not genuine, but the thought behind it is. He looks completely drained. "How about we get you cleaned up?"
Connor doesn't answer. He purses his lips and looks down at the ground, and nods slowly. Hank leads him to the kitchen on unsteady legs and sits him down in one of the chairs by the dining table. "I'll be right back," Hank says, patting his knee before disappearing into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with bandaids.
It's the best he can do.
Wiping the thirium off Connor's face was easier than excpected. Minimal rubbing needed. He's gentle, even though he knows it doesn't hurt. He wonders if Connor even cares about it.
"I was thinking we'd call in sick tomorrow and go get you properly fixed," Hank tells him in a gentle tone. He's carefull as he cleans around the wound, not wanting to get in it and do something bad. The artificial skin has deactiveted around the wound, reavealing the pristine, white behind it. "And we'll need to buy some more thirium," He explains. "We're almost out of it."
"Mhmm."
Hank smiles sadly at Connor's short answer. Normally there is no problem getting him to speak. He's always on about some awkward small talk or weird, intruding personal questions.
"I can't force you to talk, but know that you can come to me with anything, right?"
He thinks he sees a ghost of a smile on Connor's lips. It's enough for him.
Hank begins wrapping the bandage around his head. He makes sure to wrap it tightly, bit not too tight, even if it doesn't matter for Connor. He doesn't feel pain the same way humans do.
Connor looks even goofier than unusual with the bandage wrapped around his head. The sight lightens up his mood slightly. The uneasy feeling he's had since he came home doesn't disappear though. If anything, it only grows. Something happened and Hank doesn't know what. It eats him up inside. The parent inside him is screaming at him to fix all of Connor's problems.
He helps Connor to the couch, as it is the closer option and tucks him in with a soft blanket. He mumbles a quiet 'Thanks' before slipping into standby, LED circling a mix of blue and yellow before turning all blue.
"Good night, kid," Hank mumbles, raking his fingers through the android's hair before fishing up his phone.
He has some calls to do.