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After a long day in the department, Hank decides, fuck it, he’s getting a 6-pack from the gas station regardless whether Connor likes it or not. He deserves it. He goes to the station, picks up his favourite pack, then heads home.
Upon arrival, Sumo does not bother to greet the old man anymore, nor does the android, who has the thousand-mile stare while his LED flickers yellow. Hank decides to sneak the pack into the fridge while the kid is busy.
“For fuck’s sake Connor, there’s no room in the fridge now!” he grumbles. His fridge– his OWN fridge– is filled top to bottom with a variety of meat and vegetables, and Connor clearly doesn’t spare the freezer either, with the massive frozen turkey claiming the space. Hank could vomit right now.
“Ah, hello Lieutenant,” Connor perks up from his ghostly stare for a second, only for his eyebrows to pull closer together. “Is that beer…?” Hank suspects Connor is just looking for an explanation: he probably pulled up three well-known articles about the negative health effects of alcohol with his computer brain to use already. “-Anyways, you know how I’ve been looking into how to cook recently?”
Hank eyes the giant turkey (how the hell did Connor get the turkey in there?) and shuts the freezer door. “Mhmm.”
“I’m thinking I could prepare some meals for the department to celebrate Thanksgiving. What do you think?"
“Son, you’re gonna do it anyways,” says Hank, and I don’t have the heart to tell you no, he keeps the rest to himself.
“I guess you’re right. Oh, and by the way, I’ve prepared dinner: it’s a classic lasagna dish with ricotta cheese, gently flamed to your liking,” Connor pulls a (albeit, still somewhat creepy) smile, and approaches the oven. Upon opening the oven door, a waft of creamy goodness gently dances in the air. Sumo even perks up (didn’t even flinch for his owner) from the aroma, and moves just close enough for Connor to shoo him away from the oven.
Maybe the new hobby isn't so bad after all.
The entire bullpen is now squeezing in the break room after smelling the delicious giant turkey. Even Gavin decides to join in, currently trying to cover his delight with his hands. Ben doesn’t realize he’s drooling until Chris nudges him.
“Connor! Where did you learn how to make this?” Tina squeals in excitement as Connor peels away the foil from the turkey.
The cook flushes blue and sheepishly rubs his hand at the back of his head. “I somewhat decided to have my own go at this… hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.”
“What’s going on here?” Fowler snaps, and the room falls silent while they look at him with pleading eyes.
Fowler glances at the sight of the delicious turkey sitting there. “...I call the first piece,” he giggles and grabs a paper plate. The break room becomes a bit of a madhouse as everyone scrambles like animals for a paper plate and utensils.
The turkey glistens with juice as Connor slices a piece for Fowler. The line gawks and gleams. After scooping some vegetables bathed in gravy, the next person in the line comes up. The turkey does not disappoint, and people are already asking for seconds before Connor could sit down.
The day quickly ends with full stomachs. Hank and Connor clean up the mess together, and the sunlight beams in carmin and magenta when they head to the oldmobile. Connor’s radiating smile spreads onto Hank and for now, everything’s alright.
Sorry, fridge. Connor’s new hobby is here to stay.