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Connor doesn’t necessarily wish to be human. He likes his abilities as an android - inhumane hearing, stamina and sight serve him well in the force at least. He likes not getting hungry or tired, and when his services are needed as a “killing machine”, as some people in the station still call him, he complies.
But lately, there has been this yearning, this want for something less clean and pristine like the white plastic underneath his receding skin. Something real.
It starts with noticing that Hank has scars. Small ones in his hands, a few from when Sumo was a baby and still had the energy to wrestle. A few from downtown punks who had fought nail and teeth not to be taken into the station. A bigger one on his stomach from a stabbing way back when - Hank never mentions anything about it, but by analysing it Connor finds out the stitches were made wildly incorrectly.
The lighter scar tissue contrasting against Hank’s tattoo fascinates Connor, and at the same time makes him jealous - androids physically cannot scar. Hank tells him to stop worrying about it, to be grateful his body will stay beautiful forever. But what is more beautiful than the way Hank’s skin will forever show the life he has lived? Connor will never have proof of the missions he has survived, never physical memories of triumph and beating the odds. He will always look the same - clean, pristine, and perfect.
By living with Hank, Connor notices other inadequacies in himself as time passes. When the days get shorter and colder, Hank is warm and big next to him on the couch, in a way that is different from Sumo curling up against him in the mornings. In those moments Connor wants to lean in, touch and feel the warmth radiating from the other man.
Yet he always stops himself - Connor knows his body is too cold, too hard. A “plastic prick” - an uncomfortable, hard surface that no one can properly lean on. Instead, he starts to wrap himself up in Hank's old hoodies, indulging in the way they stretch over his hips and wrists. A reminder of the warmth – if Hank notices, he doesn’t mention it.
The warmth is what Connor grows to appreciate about the older man. Even if he seems cold or uncaring to others, when it’s just the two of them, Connor learns to see the clumsy attempts at caring for him. They are hidden in layers of swear words and messily scribbled “thank you”-notes Hank leaves on his desk after they solve a mission. Connor knows his program isn’t capable of feeling the way Hank does, the way humans do, but he tries. He tries leaving out lunches and checking for cholesterol in them and takes Sumo out to walk when Hanks's back hurts too much to do it. He cleans the house and empties the cupboards of the liquor bottles that Hank has stashed in the most surprising of places.
Connor doesn’t wish to be human, but for Hank, he could be anything.
On one particularly cold October day, Connor finds himself standing over the kitchen sink, thoughts muddled like the plates under the soapy water. Hank should be home any minute now, he knows that - it’s 16:03, which means Hank is approximately 4 minutes from home. He sighs, drying off his hands on the towel by the sink. Today has been all muddy and weird, void of any interaction since the older man left for work so early.
One of Hank's hoodies is draped over his form again, soft and smelling of the other. Connor wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes. Sometimes he likes to imagine it’s Hank wrapping his arms around him instead, pulling him close. Whenever Hank walks around the house shirtless now Connor has to avert his eyes to not get lost in the way the tattoo on his stomach moves, or how the water droplets race down to his hastily tied towel. He has gotten very good at analysing the plants or books nearby him instead, knowing now a lot more of old detective literature and house plants than he ever thought he would.
Thoughts like that aren’t necessarily new, and Connor has been trying to deduce them without downloading the resource pack partner androids used to have before the revolution. It feels a bit like cheating, after all - if he wishes to live like humans, he can’t have all the answers immediately, either.
- Hello? Connor, ‘ya home?
Connor snaps back to reality and quickly straightens himself up. Hank enters the kitchen, still in the middle of taking his jacket off, and plops some groceries down on the table. Connor smiles as he notices the blue blood packets peeking out, and goes to take them out.
- Ah, thank you. I was running low.
- Yeah, I noticed - since ya don’t eat anything else figured it would be unfair to ask you to pay for these. You do cook and clean for me, after all.
Connor smiles, letting himself take a look at the man before him. Hank is so wonderfully ruffled yet put together - his beard is a bit more trimmed than usual, and he has pulled his now longer hair into a bun. As he smiles back at Connor, his blue eyes sparkle in a way that makes Connor wish he didn’t have simulations of heartbeat.
- Has it been boring here for you?
- No, I’ve been cleaning.
- Connor, we’ve talked about this - you can just relax, too. I have movies and books-
- I can scan those in a minute and my program knows the patterns and tropes used in them. I like cleaning. Helps me take my mind off things.
Hank huffs a bit, tossing his jacket to the side table. He then looks at Connor again, furrowing his brows.
- Everything okay? Is that Cyberlife program still rebelling against you?
Connor chuckles.
- No, nothing like that. Just…getting used to living, I guess. I don’t really know how to do it right.
- Well, then there’s two of us, kid. Ain’t there no tale older than the woes of living.
Connor shrugs and moves to take out the groceries. The nickname bugs him for some reason - being called ‘kid’ makes him feel too young. And to his limited knowledge, it’s not something you would call a romantic partner. He sighs and looks at Hank.
- Could you not call me kid?
This startles Hank. He fills his cup with water, still looking at Connor as he takes a sip from it.
- Why?
- Well, If I want to court you, terms like that make it seem like you’re my father. Which is a role I don’t wish for you.
Hank spits out his water and starts coughing.
- Court me- Connor, what are you on?
- Court, flirt, whatever - the point is, if I want to date you and possibly have sex with you, it is improper to use terms related to familial relations.
Hank goes red, grabbing his heart as if to calm himself down from the coughing fit.
- Connor, you do know…you do know we don’t have to date just because we live together?
Then, a bit more quieter:
- Or…or have sex.
Connor rolls his eyes.
- Obviously. But I want to.
Hank looks like he is about to pass down or have a heart attack - maybe even both - so Connor points him to sit down. He sits down in front of him too, clasping his hands together.
- You see, I have been thinking. I know I am not soft or nice to touch like the partner androids, and I don’t have all the emotional nuances a human could have. Nonetheless, I have feelings for you and wanted to let you know I am trying to make them known.
Hank looks at him and furrows his brows again.
- Wait, do you think I care about you being built the way you are? Is that why you stopped falling asleep on me during movie nights?
- It’s stasis, not sleep-
- Aw hell, whatever it is, you stopped doing it. Because…you think I wouldn’t like it?
Connor fumbles with his hands.
- …Yes.
- Jesus, Connor - you think I hate living with an attractive younger man who basically has the perfect body that will never age? Obviously not. There’s just…I couldn’t just assume.
Connor furrows his brows.
- Why? We were friends and we are now living together. We regularly have physical contact and give each other signs of affection in other ways. Why would you not assume I was romantically interested? Isn’t that the road relationships usually evolve?
Hank groans, cheeks still red.
- Uh, well…If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the most handsome guy around for you to date. Hell, I didn’t even know you like guys. Didn’t know they programmed that in you.
- Technically I was built to be prepared to please both genders if the mission so asked, but after deviation, I have only found myself attracted to men. Or a man, you. And you are the most handsome guy I know.
If Connor didn’t know better, he’d think Hank was blushing more. For decency's sake, he refrains from analysing the Lieteunant's blood flow any further down than his chest. His heart is beating fast, though - pumping irregularly as the blue little box tells Connor.
- So…you’re sure you want to date…me?
- Yes. You are smart, attractive to me, and most importantly a great friend.
Then, a bit softer:
- I do not know a lot about humanity yet. There are a lot of ways I feel inadequate compared to you. But I wish to learn - for you.
Hank reaches for him, taking his hand.
- Kid- Connor, you have to know that to me you are perfect. Annoyingly so, sometimes, but still - I couldn’t imagine my life without you at this point. Hell, I’d probably be dead in some ditch without you.
Connor smiles and chuckles.
- So, that’s a yes to dating?
- Yes.
- And sex?
- We- we need to have a chat about that, so hold your horses.
- Fine.