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“...I hope he wakes up soon.”
“He will. They put him into really deep stasis. Didn't want to risk anything with his head open.”
You sigh.
“I'm just glad he's okay.”
You lean forwards in your chair to look at Connor, tucked under white sheets with his eyes closed, LED swirling a steady yellow. He looks comically like a cartoon character, a single bandage wrapped around the top of his head and a strip over his cheek where they'd soldered a cut. You try to take that as a small sense of comfort.
He's fine.
You know he's fine.
“He's gonna be really out of it,” you hum, and only a slight sense of worry settles as you add, “I hope he doesn't go into shock, though. I've seen people wake up and panic. A lot of times it causes problems in the processor, they lose memories, some even lose motor function-”
“(YN).” You pause in your rant to look down at Markus' hand on your wrist, and your knee stops bouncing. “He's gonna be fine.”
“...I know. I'm sorry.” You sigh again, sitting back in your chair and meeting the man's eyes. “You didn't have to come. Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” Markus assures as he leans back in his own chair. “Besides, he's practically family to me. I'll have more peace of mind this way.”
“Does that make us brothers-in-law?” Markus chuckles at that, then makes a noise of mock disgust.
“Oh. That means Hank Anderson would be my dad. Not sure how I feel about that.” This time, you laugh, the tension rolling off your shoulders and away from your spiraling thoughts.
“It's not as bad as it seems. Just don't get him started on anything about books because he’ll talk you to death about it.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
You laugh again, and the room falls back into silence, albeit a more comfortable one than before.
You are truly thankful for Markus’ presence there, grounding you like he knew you'd overthink everything. Despite the operation being far from complex, a minor repair to the processor, you can’t help but be on edge. Being a technician for so many years, you’ve seen just about everything. Miracles, of course. And losses.
Even if you know he’s fine, because he must be here before you, there’s still a lingering fear of the possibilities. Maybe the reports were wrong. Maybe there’s a panel just loose enough to dislodge into a wire and cut off function, imperceptible to the eye.
Maybe it just doesn’t work.
“Here.” Markus breaks you away from your head again, and you turn to see seven cards of a standard deck held out to you, face down. “Play cards with me.”
If you had an LED, something says it would have been spinning bright red.
You take the cards with a huff and hold them up, suggesting, “Rummy?”
“Rummy.” Markus sets up the deck on the table between you, gesturing, “You first.”
It's how the next half hour passes, pairing cards with comments of, “I’ll take that, thanks,” as you pick up the six he sets down for your own set. It’s just distracting enough to keep your head from spinning too fast, and Markus is just comforting enough to ensure it stays that way.
At the start of your third game, your ears perk up to a low noise. You whip your head to see Connor's rolling side to side slowly, a hum escaping his throat. Markus puts down his cards just as fast as you, turning to stand up and head to the other side, leaving you to move your chair closer to the bed.
“Hey,” you say quietly, cautiously, like talking to a slowly-waking child. Although, Connor looks like one right now, bleary and squinty. His eyes slowly wrench open more, and his gives a groan of irritation, holding up a hand to block the lights overhead.
“Oh, no...” he mutters. “How do I turn off my eyes...”
You can’t hold back your too-wide grin at his words, finally seeing him awake being enough to placate you. You’d already known it would be some hours before he got back all his bearings regardless, so you aren't counting on him making much sense yet. Like waking up from anaesthesia, he gives a loopy glance at his surroundings.
“Connor?” you say to catch his attention. He blinks, turning his head towards Markus first, his direction backwards, before turning towards you. At this, he slowly lowers his hand and points at you, brow furrowed.
“You... are... someone,” he says slowly, unsure about the words he's picked. His eyes shift towards his hand and he looks at it, turning it over. He pokes the ring around his ring finger, muttering, “My hand...”
“I have never seen him like this before,” Markus says quietly, and you look up to see a grin on his face at the sight. “The concise Connor Anderson-(LN) has cracked.”
“Who's... saying words?” Connor asks the air, still looking at his hand like a baby discovering its limbs. Markus meets your gaze and gestures for you to take hold of the situation as he steps back slightly. You watch as he pulls out his phone from his jacket and very non-subtly starts recording a video. You wave your hand at him to stop, but all he does is gesture for you to go. A movie director and his actors, you blatantly realise with a roll of your eyes.
You ignore Markus and his unhelpful actions, turning back to Connor and reaching out to tap him on the shoulder. His gaze flits back to you, and he furrows his brow again, further.
“Hey, Connor, how're you feeling?” you ask slowly, laying a hand on his shoulder in hopes to ground him. He makes a humming noise and brings his hand up to his head, jolting when it touches the fabric wrapped around.
“My head’s... puffy,” he decides, poking it with a finger. “It's too big.”
You laugh and pull his hand down to stop him from jabbing his head over and over, saying, “Yeah, you just got out of surgery.” A sliver of Connor's LED beneath the wrap sparks a tiny yellow, and he brings both hands up now to grab his head.
“Oh, my God, they took my head away,” he says. You hold back a laugh, shaking your head.
“No, they didn't take your head away, don't worry,” you assure, gently reaching to run a finger down his neck. “See, look, it's attached right here. Everything's where it's supposed to be.”
Immediately, he relaxes back into the bed, huffing out, “Oh, okay. Good.” He looks at you, and a little grin shows on his face, “Hey, you're really nice.”
“Well, thank you,” you chuckle, thumb rubbing his shoulder lovingly. “You're really nice, too.”
“Yeah...” A pause sits, before he asks genuinely, “Hey... D’you like male androids with... no genitalia?" Immediately, you shoot up a bright red, more rare a sight than one would think. He lets out an involuntary laugh at points at you, “Your heart rate spiked and you blushed, that means you do.”
“Connor...” you let out a laugh and sigh, looking down and shaking your head.
“No, no, no, no, wait, wait,” Connor demands your attention as soon as you've torn it away, and you look back up to see an attempt at a reassuring expression. He soothes,“It's okay. It's okay. Because I know someone.” You furrow your brow as he brings his hands up to his face, then reveals himself again with a smile, “Here he is.”
“Oh, my God,” you finally laugh out loud, covering your mouth with a hand. You decide to play along, saying, “Y'know, you are right, I love male androids with no genitalia."
“See, I knew it,” he praises himself in a mumble, then to you, “And I'll tell you a secret.” You lean in as he beckons you closer, whispering, “If I didn't have a husband, I would so marry you.”
“This is the greatest thing I've ever watched,” Markus says quietly from behind the camera, still recording. Connor only barely notices his presence, giving a grimace and waving a lazy arm in his direction at an attempt to shoo.
“How d'you know you have a husband, Connor?” you ask, curious as to his thought process. He waves his left hand in the air at you.
“Ring,” he says plainly. He points at you, “Attracted to you.” He points at himself, “Me.” He laughs at himself, like he can't believe his own basic deductions.
“Oh, well, Connor, I have some good news for you,” you hum before bringing up your own left hand to show him the matching band. “I am your husband.”
It's like the world stops for an entire moment with Connor staring at your hand, before his eyes go wide and he puts a hand to his forehead.
“Oh, shit,” he curses, bewildered. The hand runs down his face as he looks up, “Oh, fuck.”
“Connor, relax,” you chuckle, squeezing his shoulder. It seems to bring him back as he meets your eyes again, his blown wide in shock.
“We're married?” he asks for the clarification first and foremost, and you nod. A laugh escapes his mouth, giddy, and he lets out a, “Wow,” as he wistfully stares off. After a second, he mumbles, “And he’s so attractive...” You can't help but laugh at him, shaking your head. A beat passes before you snap your fingers.
“I promised Hank I'd call him when you woke up,” you say as you scroll for Hank's contact, hitting the button for a video call.
“Hank...” Connor tests the name like he knows it somehow. “Hank... Hank-tenant. Lieu-Hank-Nent...”
“Oh, hey, (YN),” Hank greets you, his face too close to the camera. He mutters something under his breath before the phone is held at a regular distance. “Connor all fixed up?”
“Yes, sir,” you give a tiny salute to him. “He's awake if you wanna say hi. Bear with him, though, he's... a little loopy.”
“Oh, shit, by all means, pass me over.” You laugh as you look back at Connor, seeing that he's been watching your exchange with the lieutenant.
“Here, Connor, hold this,” you direct, carefully settling your phone in Connor's hands. Connor narrows his eyes as he attempts to hold the phone right, stopping when everything is visible. Immediately, his expression lights up at the sight.
“Hank, Hank, my dad-tenant, Hank,” he says almost musically. He squints at the screen, frowning, “You're so small...”
“It's a video, Connor, I'm not inside the phone,” Hank says, holding back a laugh. “How're you feelin’, kid?”
“Oh, oh, Hank, listen, I'm married to this guy.” Connor starts to rant as though you aren't sat there beside him, hearing every word, “And he is so nice, Hank. He likes male androids. And handsome. And nice, too... Oh, my God, he's wonderful...”
You hear Hank let out a boisterous laugh through the speaker, commenting, “Yeah, he sure is, Con,” no doubt nodding along to whatever Connor is saying.
“Mm-hm,” Connor gives a very firm nod, trying to emphasise his point. He closes his eyes, phone still held up, and adds on, “Hey... You're my dad, Hank.”
“Yeah, I am. What about it?”
“Nice having one. Nicer than that bitch.”
The bitch in question is his old programmed handler, Amanda. Not often has he brought her up, even less so these days, but whenever he does, he never has a nice thing to say.
Calling her a bitch seems fitting for his unfiltered mouth.
“Hey, Connor, open your eyes,” you hear Hank say, and you lean over to look at the video, watching the older man maneuver before you see the familiar sight of Boulder, the new dog Hank got a year ago after Sumo passed away. He's a bright and bubbly pitbull mix, tongue lolling out just at being paid attention to. You look over to see Connor open his eyes again and immediately fall to pieces at the sight.
“Oh, my God, I love dogs,” he says loudly, bringing the phone up to his face and tapping it against the bridge of his nose. Some of his skin retracts oddly at the middle, but it doesn't do anything to interface. Just peeling back from pure elation at seeing his favourite animal. He brings the phone back down and grins at it, practically cooing, “Oh, handsome beautiful dog, did you know you're the best thing in the world?” A moment passes and he looks at you, frowning, “Oh. Sorry.”
“It's fine,” you laugh, not wanting him to feel bad about giving his love to a dog rather than you. “Boulder is the best thing in the world.”
“Yeah...” He smiles, completely dropping the phone into his lap. You hear Hank’s voice say, “Hey, who turned off the lights?” pulling a laugh from you. You lean over him to grab the device, though finding it difficult when Connor catches your attempt and holds up the phone out of reach. You hear Hank’s laughter as he calls out, “I’ll call back later,” before disconnecting. You look at Connor and huff.
“Connor, gimme the phone,” you say firmly. He just grins at you, smug, and shakes his head.
“Uh-uh,” is the denial he voices. You narrow your eyes and reach again, his arm moving away in tandem.
You're fully out of your seat now, hovering over, your phone inches away from your hand, when you feel his other hand reach up and wrap around your neck, tugging you down towards his face. His lips don't quite catch yours correctly, more so the corner, but he seems satisfied, laughing into your face and kissing whatever is in reach. Including but not limited to your cheek, nose, eye, forehead, and chin.
“Okay, okay, Connor,” you try to stifle your laughter as you pull away, and he makes a noise of disagreement, trying to pull you back in. If he were at full strength, he could probably do it easily, but he's too out of it and too thirium-deprived to keep you close, his hand slipping away from your neck sadly.
“I changed my mind,” he mutters as you sit back in your chair, shooting you a glare with no real anger. “I’m leaving you for that other guy.”
“What other guy?” you raise an eyebrow at him. He frowns deeply, waving towards where Markus is, and still recording.
“That guy. Mr. Bald Man.”
You can't even find it in yourself to be upset in the slightest, looking over at Markus to see him peering over the phone in his hands with a grin.
“I graciously accept your offer, Connor,” he says. “But how are you gonna propose to me?”
“By doing this.” Connor reaches and haphazardly tugs his ring off, holding it up between his first finger and thumb. He opens his mouth, likely to make a loopy declaration to Markus, but stops himself before he does and drops his hand, pouting. “Wait. I can't.”
“Why not?”
“‘cause I love this guy too much.” Connor waves towards you. “He likes male androids with no genitalia. And he's nice.” He looks at you, and you see just a sliver of gained recognition in his eyes as he says quietly, “You're nice. And I love you.’
“I love you, too, Connor,” you hum back sweetly, reaching to brush some of his hair away from his forehead, though it doesn't move much under the bandage. His LED burns a bright blue at it, his body relaxing under the touch. “Why don't you rest a little more? We'll be here when you wake up again.”
“Give me a kiss,” he demands sleepily, eyes slipping shut again as his LED starts to rotate yellow.
“Yes, sir.” You lean back up one last time to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He barely responds to it, already asleep, deep in stasis from the energy he'd just expended.
“I'm so glad I elected to have a cell phone,” Markus laughs as he pushes a button on the screen and brings it down. You roll your eyes as he approaches. “I'll send it to you.”
“I'm sure Connor will tell me to delete it forever,” you sigh as you lean back fully, watching Connor breathe. His eyes roll behind his lids, and you wonder what he's dreaming about.
You wonder if it's about you, or dogs, or his imaginary divorce from you and engagement with Markus.
When you bring him home later that night, he only manages to watch ten seconds of the eight minute video and begs you to never show it.
But he doesn't tell you to delete it.