Chapter Text
Connor could confidently say that he still did not understand the purpose of “people-watching.” Monitoring, analyzing, assessing, and scanning people—all of that was second nature, primed into his programming as a detective. All with the purpose of determining someone’s intentions, studying their mannerisms to better evaluate their guilt or innocence or motives on a case. His database on human behavior was one of the most prolific in the android sphere. It was an invaluable asset and strength in his line of work.
But simply…people-watching…for the purpose of just…passing the time was…lost on him.
He continued to not understand it as he sat in a lawn chair across the street from his home with his elderly neighbor, Jim. Jim—or as he’d introduced himself “Jim Beam, yep, like the liquor, but no relation”—was 87 years old, and Connor would title him as a people-watching master for the number of times that Connor had noticed him sitting on his porch, sipping a drink and casually watching the goings-on in the neighborhood.
The spring season had prompted Connor to resume his annual offering to mow the old man’s lawn for him. Over the years, this offering had expanded to include maintaining his landscaping and the occasional oddjob around the house, and Connor was always happy to help. Jim was retired, his children grown and moved away, and his husband had also been gone for as long as Connor had known him. Jim never said that he was lonely in so many words, but Connor found reasons to visit the old man and took opportunity to loiter for conversation after he had fulfilled his lawncare mission every weekend.
So he found himself sitting with Jim now…people-watching.
“He is left-handed but is using a right-handed technique,” Connor observed.
“Yep,” Jim tutted in his usual few words.
Connor squinted slightly, watching the little boy a few houses down shooting the basketball to the hoop mounted above his home’s garage door. The hoop was too high for how young the boy was, but that wasn’t deterring him from throwing up airball after airball, occasionally smacking the ball into the backboard or straight into the garage door.
“He would benefit from some constructive instruction,” Connor offered.
“Nope,” Jim tutted again. “Let him figure it out on his own.”
Connor frowned and extended a hand. “It would be more efficient for him to learn proper technique now, before this becomes a habit.”
“That’s what his coach is for.”
“What if he isn’t on a team and doesn’t have a coach?”
“Then what’s he hurtin’ if he shoots the ball weird?” Jim shrugged and waved a hand dismissively. “He’s havin’ fun. Let him be.”
Connor pouted and sat back in his seat, mirroring Jim’s more relaxed posture.
“What is the purpose of watching people like this if you aren’t going to interact with them?”
Jim shrugged, sipping at his lemonade. “It’s a nice reminder that there’s people out there. They don’t need a grouchy old fuck like me teachin’ ‘em how to shoot the ball or mow the yard the right way.”
Connor looked over at him. “You’ve never tried to teach me how to mow the yard.”
“Yeah, and it shows.”
Connor made an offended noise, and Jim cackled.
“Nah, you’re all right for a robot.”
“Android.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jim said, waving him off again. “Whatever.”
Connor snorted and shook his head, looking out across the street again. He had a perfect view of his own house and his own yard. And his mowing job over there looked perfectly adequate if he said so himself. The neighboring yards on either side of the Anderson home looked equally fine.
The Paulson family that lived next door to the Andersons was coming out of their front door as he watched. Barry and Wendy Paulson were dressed nicely, but their young daughter Sofie was in her full dance outfit. She must have a recital tonight. Connor smiled as he watched Wendy trying to corral the girl into the back seat of the car, while Sofie was only interested in spinning in the driveway to make her skirt swoosh around her knees.
Her joyful giggling carried across the street, and Jim chuckled as Wendy finally ushered her into the car with comical threats and the promise of a donut if she’d just get in the car.
“She’s a firecracker that one. I bet that’s a loud back yard,” Jim teased, looking over at Connor for confirmation.
Connor smiled and tilted his head. “It is lively having such a young child for a neighbor. There is never a dull moment when she is outside playing.”
“I bet,” Jim grinned, then sighed. “They’re just little balls of energy at that age…”
They both watched Wendy take a moment to look at the sky for patience before she and Barry climbed into the front seats of the car. Then the car was backing out of the driveway and turning onto the road in a direction that didn’t pass them by Jim’s house, so Connor didn’t have a chance to wave at them.
“You got any kids, Connor?” Jim asked.
Connor blinked and looked over at Jim. “No,” he answered, puzzled.
Jim looked at him, then snorted and shook his head. “No, no, I know you robots can’t actually ‘have’ kids, but I mean…they just passed laws saying you people can adopt kids right? Human ones? Or just the other robot kids?”
“Um…yes, that is true that androids can now qualify to adopt children, both human and android children. No, I do not have children.”
“Hm…Are you gonna? You’re married, right?”
“Yes, I am married,” Connor replied. “But my wife and I have formed our family in other ways.”
“Hm,” Jim tutted, adjusting in his seat. He looked like he wanted to push the topic, but he ended up just shrugging. “All right then.”
Connor smirked at him and looked across the street again as a car pulled up in front of the Paulsons’ house. It was a small blue car with a dent on the back bumper and a huffing sound coming out of its engine that probably needed to be seen by a mechanic. It was also impossible to see into the back seat, as the back half of the vehicle was crammed full of boxes and bags all the way to the roof. It came to a squeaky stop in front of the Paulsons’ house, and Connor watched as a young woman climbed out of the driver’s seat.
He recognized the young woman immediately as Greta Schmidt, a teenager who often babysat for the Paulsons. He hadn’t seen her in recent months, but there was no mistaking the awkward, uncoordinated mess of limbs that was Greta as she got out of the car and teetered on her wedge heels. She was in a pretty pink and white floral dress, and her unnaturally red-dyed hair was tied up in a fancy updo with stray curls hanging from it. Not her usual manner of dress by a longshot, and Connor grinned in amusement as she kept one hand on her car as she carefully walked in her heels around the front of the car.
“Those are the wrong shoes for that dress,” Jim noted casually.
“Oh, leave her alone,” Connor retorted.
Greta wobbled her way up the driveway and knocked on the door. Connor considered calling over to let her know that they weren’t home, but Greta seemed to come to that conclusion herself after another series of knocks. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and she turned back around to make the wobbly return to her car. Her fists clenched at her side, and she aggressively kicked out of her shoes, standing barefoot on the concrete instead.
“That’s better. Won’t roll an ankle that way,” Jim commented again.
Connor huffed and reached down, grabbing up a handful of grass clippings and throwing them at the old man. Jim squawked and laughed at that, throwing some of the clippings back at Connor. Connor swatted him away, watching Greta forlornly gather up her shoes and start the trudge back to her car. He frowned as the slump in her shoulders didn’t go away, and he considered going to talk to her until she stopped outside her driver door. Greta moved her shoes into one hand, while her other hand swept up across her eyes. Connor saw her chest hitch with a hard breath, and then she sniffed hard as she wiped her eyes clear before starting to get into her car.
Connor longer considered going to talk to her. It was now his objective.
“I’m going to talk to her,” Connor stated, not looking away from Greta as he stood from his seat.
“Yeah…all right.” Jim must have seen Greta’s body language too, as his tone had softened. “Go see what’s going on.”
Connor jogged down the driveway to the street, waving a hand as Greta spotted him out of her periphery. She stiffened in surprise but then relaxed when she recognized him.
“Greta!” he called out in greeting. “Greta, hi.”
“Hey, Connor. Hey…Um, hi,” Greta stammered, eyes now clearly red and wet as he got closer. She squinted slightly and looked away briefly to wipe at her eyes again. “What’s…up? What’re you doing here?”
Connor paused, pointing a thumb at his house next door. “I live here.”
Greta stared, glanced over at the Anderson home, blinked, and then snorted, rubbing her forehead. “Right, sorry. Long day. I’m losing my mind today. Sorry.”
It was not lost on either of them that she was losing the fight against the tears in her eyes, but everything radiating off of her frame was begging him not to draw attention to it. So he instead looked at her outfit.
“That’s a pretty dress,” he commented lightly.
Greta drew a slow, steadying breath and then snorted, flicking her fingers against the fabric of her skirt. “Thanks.”
Connor smiled and gestured to her feet. “Though you seem more comfortable barefoot than in those.” He looked pointedly to the shoes clutched in her other hand.
He was rewarded with a weak, rueful laugh as she extended one leg to inspect her foot. “Yeah, I guess.”
She really wasn’t giving him much to work with here, if she wasn’t wanting him to ask if she was okay.
“Are you okay?” Because, honestly, he needed to know.
It was another blow to her fight against the tears, and she stared at him for a tense moment. Her chin puckered as she pursed her lips against the redness building across her entire face. She swallowed and then nodded too hard to be genuine before looking at him fully again.
“I…uh…I graduated today,” she said plainly.
Connor perked up in surprise. That didn’t make sense. Graduation Day was a day of great celebration among humans. The ceremonial acknowledgement of students’ accomplishments was traditionally marked by joyful parties, many pictures with proud family and friends, and if there were tears, then they were out of happiness…or at worst, the bittersweet emotions of the closing of this chapter of one’s life.
There was no joy in Greta’s tears. There wasn’t any pride or happiness in her face. And it wasn’t anything bittersweet fueling them either. Something was wrong.
He noted her more formal outfit and hairstyle, along with the telltale square graduation cap and gold tassel lying discarded in the passenger seat of her car. He looked back to Greta slowly.
“You did graduate?” he asked.
Greta scoffed and wiped at her eyes then, giving up the ruse. “Yes, I graduated. Despite what everybody thinks, I’m not a loser.”
Connor startled. “You are certainly not a loser. And not graduating would not have made you a loser in any regard either. Why would you say that?”
Greta screwed her eyes shut, looking annoyed with herself for feeling whatever she was feeling, and she turned and tossed her shoes into the car. She made a low, exasperated noise as she did so, before looking back to Connor.
“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter. Sorry,” she grimaced, shaking her head. “I’m gonna go. I did the thing. The thing’s done. It doesn’t matter—”
“The Paulsons aren’t home,” Connor asked, interrupting her babbling.
Greta sucked in more air. “Yeah, yep, I noticed that. Um…”
Connor tilted his head. “I only asked if you graduated because this—” he gestured to her general state, “—is not indicative of someone celebrating such an achievement.” He paused. “What happened?”
“Nothing…happened,” she said, deflating on the second word. She swallowed and looked out at the Paulsons’ house again, then seemed to look through it. “It was nothing.”
“Greta—”
“Today was nothing.” Her breath hitched, and she looked at Connor tearfully. “I graduated from high school today, and it was nothing to them.”
“The…Paulsons? Did you invite them—”
“No,” Greta grimaced again and exhaled slowly. “Not them. My parents. They didn’t…They didn’t show up.”
Connor stared at her, and Greta caught her breath and continued.
“I haven’t seen them in two months, so I don’t know why I expected them to…but you only graduate from high school once, right? So, I guess I figured…they might watch me get my diploma…God knows they didn’t expect me to make it, but…I mean, I didn’t get all the honors and awards and stuff like they did when they were in school. But I did it. I made it. That still counts for something, right?” She hiccupped, looking at him desperately.
Connor felt a stiff tension moving through his shoulders and down into his core as she looked at him. Grief for her, for this happy day that she was spending in tears…Anger toward the two miserable lowlifes who had made her feel this way.
“Greta, I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “You deserve so much better than that.”
She scoffed, but he took a half step closer in earnest.
“You’re right; you only graduate high school once. That’s one more time than I ever did.”
She did laugh at that, looking at him like he was crazy. Connor offered a gentle smile.
“This is a day you should be celebrating,” he said, reaching out and grasping her wrist supportively.
She hiccupped again and tensed when he touched her, and he made to hurriedly let go. She was immediately turning her hand over to grip his hand in return. He let her hold on as tightly as she wanted, and he started to put it together.
“You wanted to see the Paulsons on your graduation day,” he mused.
She sniffed, and her expression turned embarrassed. “They’ve always been so nice to me. I guess I figured…” she snorted ruefully, “if I could get one goddamn hug and a congratulations, then I could get it from them. God, pathetic…”
The sob that choked up out of her then seemed to startle her, and, as if seeing that the fight was truly lost, she met Connor’s eyes as the tears broke free. She looked so small and young all of a sudden, and it cut through his chest like a knife.
“Will you hug me?” she asked pitifully.
Connor immediately opened his arms, and she was diving into his chest in an instant. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and braced his legs as she fell apart.
“Oh, Greta,” he said softly as she sobbed against his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’m so proud of you. Come here.”
As if she could burrow any more deeply against him, she tried.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “So stupid…”
“You’re not stupid,” he quickly spoke over that nonsense. “It isn’t stupid to want to be celebrated. To be seen and have your achievements be rewarded. It’s never stupid to want a hug,” he said, clasping his hands together behind her back, rocking her slightly. “I ask for them constantly, and I’m rarely told no.”
He chuckled at that, resting his cheek on the top of her head in a comforting gesture. Greta was quivering, but he could feel her locking down the sobs wracking her, struggling to regain her composure.
“Wh-Who told you n-no?” she asked incredulously.
“My brother,” Connor sighed.
“Coda?” she asked in disbelief.
“Oh no, Coda is an excellent hugger. I meant my other brother Calder. He’s like a cactus.”
Greta snorted at that and made the first tug backward out of the hug. Connor let her go and dipped his head somewhat to meet her eyes more quickly. Her gaze was red and wet, to match her cheeks and her nose, and if the smearing on her face was any indication, then he had a fair amount of mascara and eye shadow coloring his shirt now.
She looked deeply embarrassed, and Connor smiled graciously for her.
“My best friend Person is also a cactus, but she only says no when she is very overstimulated and can not stand being touched…Even Julia told me no just last week.”
“Your wife refused to hug you?” Greta said with a wry grin, grabbing onto the distraction. “Why?”
“Well, we had an argument, and we spent a few hours apart to cool our heads. I soon missed her and thought that a hug might mend the gap between us, but she wasn’t having any of it.”
He chuckled fondly at the memory now. Greta didn’t look as comforted. He smiled.
“But I guess she soon missed me too, because I did get a goodnight kiss,” he beamed with a wink.
Greta snorted, “Corny.” Then she exhaled and rubbed her neck. “My girlfriend broke up with me today.”
Connor’s smile melted off, and his shoulders slumped in disbelief. “What?”
Greta raised her eyebrows, wincing at him. “Yep. Right after the ceremony was over…She got accepted to a school up around New York, and…Said we wanted different things, that a long distance relationship wouldn’t work. I offered to move there with her, but...she didn’t want that. Didn’t want me. So…” She made a twirling gesture around her head. “Just the cherry on top of this fucking day I guess.”
Connor scooped her in for another hug uninvited then. Greta more ragdolled into this hug than desperately clung to him like she had in the first one.
“I’m really just not enough for anybody, huh,” she mumbled, sounding defeated.
“Don’t say that,” Connor gave her a squeeze before pulling back to look her in the eye again.
Greta’s expression had slipped behind a mask of resigned composure. “No, it’s okay. My girlfriend wants to move on? Fine, I don’t need her. My parents want to kick me out when I turned 18 two months ago? Fine, I got an apartment by myself. I graduated by myself. I got a job. This car. I opened a bank account. I’m doing just fine, and…and fuck ‘em.” She waved a hand, angry tears now filling the places where the sorrowful tears had been drying. “FUCK ‘EM!” she screamed to the neighborhood at large.
In the distance came Jim’s echoed solidarity. “Fuck ‘em!”
Connor glared in Jim’s general and unhelpful direction before returning his full attention to Greta.
The angry steam sizzled out of her, and she looked at him forlornly.
“I don’t need them. Fuck ‘em,” she mumbled. She wiped her eyes more purposefully. “I can make it all on my own.”
Connor wanted to emphatically tell her that she didn’t have to, but the petulant square to her shoulders told him she wasn’t in a place to hear or believe him in that moment. Instead, he held out a hand to her.
“Why don’t you come inside for some lemonade?”
Greta huffed and rubbed her arm. “You’re an android. You don’t drink lemonade.”
“But I have many human friends who do, so we keep it in stock,” he replied with a smile. “Please. Come inside and you can sit down and calm d—”
“I am calm,” she muttered, a little prickly now.
Connor looked at her flatly. “Fine. Then at least come inside and clean yourself up. Your face is a disaster,” he said, gesturing to her entire head.
Greta barked out a laugh at that and smacked him on the arm. He grinned and extended his arm toward the house. She snorted, sniffled, and then shuffled barefoot past him toward the house.
“Thank you,” she muttered as she went by.
Connor just smiled gently and followed her up to the front door. Meanwhile, in the back of his processors, he was immediately messaging Hank.
“Hank, we need to throw a party.”
Hank’s response was unusually quick…and curt.
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“There is no such thing as an emergency party.”
Connor’s eye twitched.
“Greta graduated high school today, and not only did her parents not attend, but they kicked her out on her 18th birthday, and her girlfriend broke up with her.”
A beat. Then Hank’s response was swift.
“I’m calling reinforcements.”