Work Text:
It was easy to forget that Connor was made to hunt. Each piece of tubing and silicon organs, every curving wire and pin hole scanner had been crafted and streamlined and tested again and again and again to create the perfect robot bloodhound. Then Cyberlife had stuffed the thing into a human suit, given it a pat on the shoulder, and told it to find and capture every android who’s LED had ever flashed red.
But things were supposed to be different now. The fires had sizzled out months ago, and the world had turned over a new face. Androids were people- they were alive.
He knows that Connor knows this. He was one of those few who helped bring it about, so of course he does. And yet, beneath every laugh, every smile- there lies the scent of blood.
Hank hates it. He wants to rip that part of Connor away, wants to let him love without needing to prove himself. He doesn't know if it's even possible, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.
So he does. Day by day, through gentle eyes and caring smiles and long walks through the city- he teaches Connor to love.