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Connor gives him the technical explanation, but what Hank gathers is this: Connor has a lot of sensors in his mouth. They are very sensitive. Connor is hardwired to willingly put stuff in his mouth, and now that he’s gone deviant, that has morphed into cravings and desire.
Hank thinks it’s a real wordy way of saying Connor has an oral fixation.
And it shouldn’t be anything; there’s plenty of ways to deal with this. Connor starts chewing pens, sucking on mints, totally normal human behaviors that nobody blinks at.
But Hank didn’t get to be the detective he is by being stupid. He can pick up on clues, and he’s gotten pretty damn good at reading Connor’s body language in the last few months, and as a result, he’s realized something.
It isn’t enough.
The whole oral fixation thing came up because since deviating, Connor’s been…antsy. Together they’ve determined that having something in his mouth- having something for his sensors to analyze or whatever -settles him down. And for a while, the pens and mints seemed to satisfy Connor’s urge, so Hank thought, great, case closed, moving on.
But now, Hank looks at Connor and sees that it isn’t doing the job. Connor’s at his desk, chewing the hell out of a pen (the third pack he’s bought this month) and still looking like he’s gonna vibrate his synth skin right off. The satisfaction is wearing off, and it’s clearly driving the kid nuts.
Connor’s sure as hell not gonna bring it up, so Hank’s gonna have to be the one to step up and help him out.
He just has no fucking idea how.
Hank comes up with this new tactic one night when they’re at home on the couch, Gears game on in the background while he pretends not to watch Connor. They’d swung by the store earlier and Connor had found these little lollipops, a big bag going for like five bucks, and bought them immediately.
They’re not good lollipops, though; they’re these shitty tiny things Hank remembers getting at the doctor’s office when he was a kid. There’s nothing to them, so Connor’s halfway through the bag, a tiny pile of wrappers and brutalized white sticks growing in front of them, and it’s only been an hour.
Connor’s so tense it makes Hank’s back hurt just looking at him. Hank feels for him, really, but he doesn’t have a whole lot of ideas; Connor needs something he can keep in his mouth for a long period of time without it breaking or wearing away, what the hell would that be-
He pauses, considers. It’s not a great solution by any means, but it’s something.
“Hey,” Hank says during a commercial. Connor looks at him with those soft doe eyes, a half-chewed lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth like some kind of old film gangster.
(God he’s so fucking cute.)
“Not working out for you?” he continues, trying to sound casual.
Connor frowns and puts the stick in its little pile, which he knows Connor is gonna throw in the kitchen trash like he’s done at every commercial break tonight. “They’re…insubstantial.”
“Mm.” He takes a quick swig of beer to give himself an extra couple seconds. “What if you, uh. Used something bigger?”
Connor’s LED flickers yellow for a moment. “Giant lollipops are a novelty product and seem inconvenient besides.” His voice is dry in that way Hank has learned means he’s joking, mostly.
“Nah, nah, I thought, like.” Another attempted drink of beer; fuck, it’s empty. “You could use, uh. Your thumb?”
There is a long pause as the commentators return and start to ramble in the background.
Finally, Connor’s eyes narrow. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Shit, no, really-” Hank turns to face him properly and winces at Connor’s disapproving look. “I know it sounds-”
“Infantile.”
“-Weird, but there’s a reason kids do it, right? It works. And I mean- ‘s not like you’re gonna fuck up your teeth doing it.”
Connor continues to frown at him. “And what would I do at the precinct? Or any other public place, for that matter?”
“I don’t know,” Hank says honestly. “But something you can do sometimes is better than nothing, ever.”
Connor is silent, but he looks significantly less hurt than he did just a moment ago. Small steps.
“Maybe it wouldn’t work, what do I fuckin’ know,” Hank says, standing. “I’m gonna get another beer. Last one,” he adds, “scout’s honor.”
“You were part of the Boy Scouts of America for twelve days,” Connor calls from behind him.
“Still counts!”
When Hank turns back to the living room, he sees Connor staring at his own thumb like he’s thinking of all the best ways to interrogate it. Hank bites back a chuckle and sits back down without saying anything, and they watch the game in silence.
After two missed free throws by the Gears, Connor says, “If this is a prank, I will be very upset.”
“Hey.” Hank leans forward so he can look Connor full in the face. “This whole thing’s been fucking you up. I don’t want you to have to deal with that.” He shrugs. “Not my fault if it doesn’t work, though. Just thought I’d put it out there.”
Connor only nods. Hank resists the urge to pull him into a tight hug.
Eventually, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Connor move. He waits, doesn’t wanna turn right around and make Connor stop. He waits for a lull in the game, then glances over as casually as he can manage.
Connor’s eyes are fixed on the television screen. His right thumb is in his mouth, other fingers curled gently near his nose. He’s a little stiff, but- slowly he relaxes, sitting a little less straight, easing into the couch for the first time all night. Hank is a little struck by the fact that this is the first time he’s seen Connor look so content in weeks.
Connor notices him looking, and almost moves his hand, then stops, leaves his thumb right where it is and looks at Hank almost defiantly, waiting for him to say something.
“Is it…working?” Hank asks, like he doesn’t know just by looking at him.
Connor nods, sucking gently. “’S nice,” he mumbles eventually.
“Well- good. What’d I tell ya.” He means to turn back to the game, conversation over, but.
Connor’s face twitches under his gaze. “What?”
“You look pretty cute,” Hank says before he can shut himself up. He feels his cheeks heat and he turns back to the game, hoping if he acts normally, he won’t have just ruined everything.
Connor is silent for a while, which Hank will definitely take over an accusation of teasing. Then, something gently thumps against Hank’s arm. Connor lays his head against Hank, quietly sucking at his thumb, looking so sweet Hank could almost forget what a little shit he is most of the time. He wasn’t lying- Connor is pretty fucking cute.
They watch the rest of the game in comfortable silence. Hank doesn’t even notice who wins.