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Hank Anderson was a simple man. A police lieutenant past his prime by day, and a raging alcoholic by night. He had thought that no single person would ever be able to change up that routine.
And in some ways, he was right. But in others? Not so much.
At exactly 6:45 AM, Hank was woken up by the loudest sound that he had ever heard. Or well, definitely not the loudest, but certainly loud enough to wake him from his long—and surprisingly peaceful—night’s sleep. Muttering curses under his breath, he opened his eyes to see none other than his worst nightmare standing in front of him.
“Good morning lieuten—“ Before the figure could even get his sentence out, Hank glared at him with expectation. “I-I mean, good morning Hank!” Connor said, nodding and smiling that true 100-watt smile right at Hank. He quickly looked away, and darted his eyes right at the clock on their shared bedside table. As he saw the time, Hank’s eyes then slowly looked back to Connor’s.
Connor, probably analyzing the problem within milliseconds jumps to explain himself, “Lieu-, Hank, remember my meeting with Markus today? We both must be ready to leave on time if you insist on accompanying me to the site. I have calculated that in order to be there by 8:15, we would need at least an hour to get ready to leave. I added another half hour because you stated to me last night that you would need thirty more minutes to get ready than on average in order to meet with the ‘deviant messiah’.”
Hank, remembering saying exactly that to Connor yesterday, shockingly doesn’t complain as he gets up off of the bed and goes to pick out some clothes. “Yeah, yeah. And I recall Connor, that you were planning on going in there alone, without anyone knowing where you went.” He didn’t add that not telling anyone meant not telling Hank, which was more important than Connor seemed to realize.
“It’s a precaution set out by North, to make sure that no one could track our current locations. She has stressed the security of this meeting, and that I should not tell anyone about it. I would assume that Markus readily agreed to the plans.” Connor replied. “I would be fine going entirely alone.”
Hank interjected, “And what, does that include being outnumbered one to four? I’d thought you’d consider the probabilities of the situation or whatever.”
“This specific scenario does not require any sort of calculations, although there is a 3.2% chance that the communications that I have exchanged with Markus are in fact fake and were only sent to lure me out of hiding.”
Hank stared at him. “Jesus, warn me next time you drop a bombshell like that...” Moving his hand from across his face and over to the nightstand, Hank also reached for the gun safe they both know was hidden in its drawers. But before he could reach it, Connor grabbed his hand and led it away from the stand.
“There is a much higher probability that my conversations with Markus were true, at around 86.4%, and that their want for peace should be respected when we are to go meet with them.” Connor brought Hank’s hand up to his chest. The hand stopped right above his thirium pump, and Hank let it rest there. Connor’s LED shined yellow as he suddenly pulled Hank in for a close hug. Hank reciprocated, even with his hand awkwardly held in between the two of them. It stayed like this for a few moments, before Hank noticed the ache in his hand. It was actually starting to cramp the longer they held the position. He shuffled in his spot, and pulled back away from Connor. “Still not used to hugs huh?”
He looked up disappointed, the emotion so open on his face, and Hank couldn't stand it. “Hold on, let me just-“ Hank cut himself off and went to properly hug Connor. This time with both arms snuggly around his waist, and Connor’s around his. “There! Much better right?”
Connor stilled in his grasp, but then Hank felt Connor nod on his shoulder, and let his body relax into Hank’s frame. Looking back at his LED, it was glowing a calm and saturated blue. As if in response, Hank’s shoulders slump with content.
“We’ll be fine Connor.” He whispers, “It's just to talk about peace right? Nothing will ever distract you guys from achieving your goals. And hey, if they decide to pick a fight with you, I’ll punch all of them till they’re black and blue, got it?”
Connor’s laugh was quiet, as if he was still unsure how to express his humor. Which, Hank thinks sadly, was probably true. His hands clung tighter to Hank, and it was almost hard to stand with the brunt of the android’s weight on top of him.
Not that he minded, much. He’s always allowed some leeway when it came to Connor. An android sent to catch deviants instead has plotted in secret to meet with those same deviants in order to reach a peaceful conclusion to this months-long civil war. It made Hank’s head hurt a little, to see how far Connor had come in so little time. But for now, they’ll hold each other in a close embrace as the sun climbed steadily higher in the sky. It cast them in the early morning light, as if the sun itself blessed the forthcoming of an android revolution. Hank himself felt just a little bit blessed, to be holding someone both so important in his heart as well as to the revolution. His heart swelled looking at Connor, and at how much his life has changed in such little time.
Hank subtly wiped away the growing tears in his eyes, and Connor pretended not to notice. As they slowly eased away from each other, Connor quietly spoke. “I know we’ll be fine. But I worry that it won’t! It’s...strange. To both know the chances of it going wrong, and still worrying about it. It’s irrational.”
“It’s human.” Hank corrected.
“It’s human.” Connor repeated, his eyes open so wide Hank was starting to question if Connor’s eyes glowed as well as his LED, before he pulled his hand and turned towards the bedroom door. “Well, shall we get ready? I know that I cannot taste food, but you have said that you’ve been craving a home cooked breakfast?”
“Didn’t you say we had to get ready super quickly or something.” Hank replied. “And not that I mind, but how did you wake me up that quickly?” Connor sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.
“I may have downloaded an augmentation that allows me to replicate sounds that I have stored in my databases, including sounds no human could produce.”
Hank just looked at him. “So, what was the ungodly sound you decided to wake me up with?”
Connor’s tone got surprisingly flat as he responded with, “The audio of a handheld air horn.”
His eyebrows rose up a good few inches, and then lowered back down until Hank looked as though he was planning something—dare he say—devious.
“Can you find a way to get Gavin asleep and play that noise at him next time we see him?”
Connor’s own face morphed into an expression of immense joy at the prospect. “Gladly.”
And so as Connor and Hank got ready for this big day they joked among themselves, ate breakfast, and spent their company with each other.
If Hank could ever go back to a time in his life before he had Connor, he would refuse the chance to do so. Instead, he’d look at his house; softly lit in the early hours of the morning, at Connor playing with Sumo on the couch, and he’d smile.