Chapter Text
It had been just over a year since the revolution, only a few weeks since the government had finally passed the law to allow androids to have jobs and Connor could return to work. Of course, in that year, Hank hadn’t allowed Connor to just sit around. He tried his best to occupy his friend and find him things to do, which Connor (reluctantly) enjoyed. He walked Sumo almost daily and had picked up a plethora of hobbies including reading, gardening and—much to Hank’s chagrin—painting. Hank even allowed him to assist with the housework, within reason. He met with the androids at Jericho often and had helped with the aftermath of the revolution where he could, though Hank could tell he still held some guilt about his past actions and didn’t want to overstay his welcome, not that he could. Markus had made much effort to spend time with Connor outside of politics (hence the painting) and Hank was quietly grateful that he recognised the other android’s fragility, even if Connor himself was in denial.
Needless to say Hank had been a little reluctant when Connor expressed desire to rejoin the force, but couldn’t deny his housemate’s enthusiasm. Connor had thrown himself right in as soon as he was able, accompanying Hank to every crime scene and even diligently engaged in the paperwork that Hank despised. His dedication couldn’t be overstated and in only the first week he’d singlehandedly solved four cases that had the precinct stumped for months previously. Everyone was impressed, least of all Hank who watched the whole thing with overflowing pride—and a healthy dose of caution. Even before deviancy Connor had a bad habit of overdoing things to his detriment; Hank shuddered when he thought of the chase on the highway.
Eager to prove his worth Connor wouldn’t let himself clock off until he had finished all his tasks for the day, even if that meant staying glued to his desk long after everyone else had gone home. Hank was hard pressed to get him to leave and, after one too many arguments, eventually gave up waiting for him. Connor reasoned that he was an adult and could get home on his own so Hank wasn’t about to stop him. If he laid awake in his bed and didn’t let himself fall asleep until he heard the front door open, that was another thing altogether.
As much as Connor might deny it he wasn’t immune to exhaustion and Hank was left to pick up the pieces.
It started with the nightmares. Connor was prone to them ever since he became deviant but Hank found himself up at ungodly hours more frequently, woken by shouts through the wall. He comforted Connor through it all as best as he knew how but the sleepless hours only mounted both of their stress and left them both ill-tempered. For Connor it only made his exhaustion worse. It was a horrible snowball effect and Hank was too out of practice attending to his own needs that he wasn’t sure how to best tackle it.
“For Christ’s sake, Connor! If you don’t slow down, you’re gonna make yourself sick!” Hank quickly lost count of how many times he had expressed some variation of that, his warnings falling on frustratingly deaf ears. Connor insisted that he was perfectly fine and that androids couldn’t get sick. Little did he know how wrong he was.
~
Hank came to consciousness unusually peacefully. Connor had retired early that evening, and subsequently suffered a nightmare before Hank had even managed to get to bed himself. It had taken a particularly long time for him to calm down afterwards and Hank had tiredly anticipated a hard night ahead of them; Connor didn’t do anything by halves and his nightmares rarely stopped at one once a discomforting thought lodged itself in his head. So Hank was shocked to find himself opening his eyes to sunlight rather than screams, feeling remarkably well-rested. Sumo snored at his feet as he sat up in bed and relished in a long stretch. He climbed out of bed and slipped on a robe in the cold morning, yawning as he walked out into the hall. The lack of coffee smell gave him pause before he made his way into the kitchen and found it inconceivably empty. It was unheard of for him to wake up before Connor, the insistent workaholic he was. Hank made his own coffee for the first time in months, unsure at this point if he even remembered how the machine worked, and tried to temper his concern. Absently he thought that maybe Connor had left early for work. He knew that wasn’t the case immediately; Connor was a stickler for routine and took it upon himself to take Sumo out for a walk every morning. But Sumo had gone to bed with Hank last night and the lazy mutt sure as hell hadn’t moved since. Downing his coffee, Hank made his way to Connor’s bedroom and knocked on the door.
“You up, Con?” he called casually. No response. He knocked again, louder, and still heard nothing. The calm of the morning shattered as Hank felt his worry spike and he wrenched the door open. He half expected the room to be empty and was relieved to see the distinctly Connor-shaped lump under the covers. Curtains drawn, the bedroom was dark and quiet. Hank reigned in his nerves and reminded himself that this was what he’d been wanting: Connor actually getting some goddamn rest. It was still a workday, though, and Hank regrettably moved to the bedside to wake his friend.
Sleeping was one side effect of deviancy that had taken Connor some adjustment, unused to how taxing emotions were on his systems and battery. Whereas before he could subsist for days on a full charge, now he needed to power down each night to be suitably functional.
Hank settled gingerly on the edge of the bed and marvelled for a moment at the sight he so rarely got to see, of Connor utterly relaxed in sleep. He was curled on his side away from Hank, covers pulled up to his chin and his hair mussed in untidy curls atop his head. Hank carded his fingers through the deviant’s hair and he didn’t stir. His breaths continued slow and heavy, deeply asleep like Hank had never seen him before. It was achingly familiar to sit stroking Connor’s hair as he slept and Hank smiled sadly at memories long past. He moved his hand to Connor’s shoulder, squashing the moment that he’d already let linger too long, and gently shook him awake.
“Connor. Wake up, kid,” he said. Connor’s eyelids fluttered, struggling to pry themselves open and Hank chuckled. “Not like you to oversleep, huh?”
With a deep groan Connor roused, rolling onto his back to look at Hank. His brown eyes blinked languidly and it took him a second to focus his gaze in the near-darkness. Then he lurched up suddenly, immediately alert.
“W-What—” his voice came out rough with static and he cleared his throat, “what time is it?”
“Whoa, it’s only eight. We’re not late,” Hank hurried to assure him, guessing at the reason for the anally-retentive android’s panic. Connor’s shoulders dropped with relief and he sagged back against the headboard, eyes closing. His eyebrows furrowed and he reached up a hand to his head, LED spinning yellow.
“Everything alright, kid?”
Connor nodded, though Hank wasn’t entirely convinced. He opened his eyes again and blinked a couple of times before peeling back the covers. Hank didn’t miss the shiver that passed through his body as he made to get up, but attributed it to the frigid autumn temperatures. He should really adjust the thermostat.
“Feel free to take the first shower,” Hank offered as he stood up, “I need to make breakfast.”
“I can do that, Hank.” Connor came to his feet unsteadily, another shiver wracking his frame. Hank waved his hand dismissively.
“Nah, I’m a big boy, I can do it myself. Besides, you look like you could use some warming up.”
“I am… feeling a little cold,” Connor admitted sheepishly, and headed to his closet to pick out fresh clothes for the day.
Hank left him to it and helpfully flicked on the overhead light as he went, not that Connor really needed it to see. He didn’t want him straining his eyes unnecessarily though. Connor’s face pinched as the light hit his eyes, aggravating the ache that was building in the back of his head, but Hank didn’t see that. Connor breathed through the pain as his eyes adjusted and decided to keep it that way as he headed for the shower.
Fifteen minutes later Connor emerged into the kitchen. Hank looked up from his eggs and gave him a greeting smile that quickly sobered once he took in the android’s appearance. Despite the shower and extra hour or so in bed, Connor still looked exhausted. Sleepy, even, which would have been charming if it wasn’t also mildly concerning. He was dressed in one of his usual button-up shirts and dress trousers but had apparently foregone doing his hair, letting it sit damp and unkempt on his forehead. The smile Connor returned him was less than enthusiastic and didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked slightly dazed as he went to grab his shoes by the door and dropped into a chair to tie them.
“You sure you’re feeling up to it today?” Hank asked as he deposited his empty plate in the kitchen sink.
“Define ‘it’.”
Hank rolled his eyes but for once it seemed Connor wasn’t actually trying to be a smartass. He blinked up at Hank and looked genuinely befuddled as to what he was implying.
“Work,” Hank clarified. “You… don’t look too hot, kid. If you need a day off—“
“I’m fine, Hank.” As if to prove the point he finished tying his shoes and swiftly stood, shoulders rolled back to attention. He offered another smile and looked a little more put together.
“If you say so. Gimme a minute to get dressed and we’ll get going.”
~
Connor was quieter than usual in the car, preferring to stare out of the window than engage Hank in conversation. It wasn’t exactly unwelcome; it still took Hank a couple hours to be in the mood for company, especially now that he was turning up to work on time. Mornings were usually reserved for drowning himself in reports and coffee until he felt halfway human. Today, though, after depositing Connor at their desks he made a quick detour to Jeffrey’s office.
“Jeff, I got a favour to ask,” he said quickly as he entered.
“What is it?” His boss looked sceptical.
“I need you to keep me and Connor on desk duty today. If we get any callouts… give ‘em to someone else.” After a pause he awkwardly added, “Sir?”
Jeffrey stared at him, eyes bugging. He barked a laugh and shook his head.
“Can’t believe what I’m hearing! You, asking me for desk work.”
“Listen,” Hank bristled; Jeff wasn’t taking him seriously. “The kid’s run off his feet, he deserves a break! I’d ask you to send him home, if only he’d listen…”
“Why would I send him home?”
“Jesus, Jeff, look at him!”
Hank gestured at the window and followed Jeffrey’s gaze as he peered past him. Connor had already powered up his terminal and started working on something, but his usually perfect posture was slumped forward, chin propped on his hand as he tapped away at the keyboard. Even from this distance Hank could see the distant look in his eyes and he wondered if he was even taking in whatever he was looking at. Turning back to the captain he raised his eyebrows, daring to be argued with.
“What’s up with him?” Jeff asked.
“I told you, he’s overworked. He’s tired.”
“Didn’t know androids could get tired…”
“Are you gonna do me this favour or not?” Hank growled impatiently. His own exhaustion was creeping in again after weeks of running after Connor.
“Fine, fine, no callouts,” Jeffrey waved, “Now get out of my office, and go do some desk work.” Despite his dismissal Hank could see his old friend smiling, amused by the notion. The lieutenant flipped him the bird for good measure before taking his leave.
“What’cha got there, kid?” Hank asked casually as he approached Connor, walking behind him to peer at the terminal screen.
“Just some reports. Regrettably, I didn’t finish them yesterday so I’d like to get it done as soon as possible,” Connor explained flatly. It was obvious he was telling Hank to get lost, so the lieutenant simply patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to his own desk.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you need any help.”
“I won’t. I am, as you say, a supercomputer.”
“Keep talking like that and you’re walking home.”
Connor grinned at him, the little shit, and easily dodged the pen Hank threw at him. “Get back to work, you plastic prick,” Hank grumbled, but couldn’t keep the smirk from his face.
“As you wish, Lieutenant.”
The two of them soon lapsed into a companionable silence, punctuated only by the clacking of keyboards and the hum of the air conditioning overhead. Captain Fowler kept well to his word and the morning passed calmly with no alerts at all, though as lunchtime rolled around Hank’s back was protesting being so sedentary. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head in an effort to loosen his spine when he noticed the time. It was the first time he’d looked up from his terminal in a couple hours, admittedly having been sucked into a rather juicy crime report, and he realised he hadn’t checked in with Connor the whole time. So much for looking out for his partner. Peering round his terminal he found that Connor hadn’t much moved, still in the same position as when they’d arrived.
His hand rested loosely on the keyboard, fingers white as he interfaced with his terminal and his eyes were closed. To the casual onlooker the android looked hard at work, but Hank was well accustomed to Connor’s focused mannerisms and this wasn’t it. First of all, his LED was solid blue, rotating slowly in his temple rather than flashing yellow like it did when he was processing something. Secondly, his cheek was smushed where it pressed against his palm, lips puckering slightly with how much of his weight he was leaning on his elbow. He looked like he was… asleep? Hank reached between the desks and nudged Connor’s arm to get his attention—
A loud crack echoed through the precinct as Connor’s forehead collided with his desk. He bolted upright immediately, arms waving disoriented and eyes rolling in his skull.
“Wha’happened?!” he cried, hands flying to his face in pained alarm. Hank was already at his side checking his hairline for damage, pushing the android’s frantic hands away.
“Shit, Connor, hold still and let me look!” he admonished. As the shock of the impact faded Connor blinked owlishly up at him, eyes slightly glazed. Blue rushed to his cheeks in embarrassment and he stuttered out an apology. Hank pointedly ignored him and continued to fuss about Connor’s face until he could determine the kid hadn’t hurt himself. He pressed a hand to Connor’s forehead and hissed at the warmth he felt radiating.
“What happened?” Connor asked again, a little clearer.
“What happened is you just faceplanted at your desk and I’m taking you home.”
“Hank, I’m—” Connor started, but Hank cut him off sharply.
“No, Connor, you’re not fine. You’re exhausted and you’ve got a fever, so I don’t wanna hear it. Jeff!” He turned over his shoulder to where the police captain had stuck his head out of his office to see what the commotion was, “We’re taking an early mark, okay?”
Jeffrey sputtered some response but Hank wasn’t waiting for permission, already busy dragging a confused Connor to his feet and out the door.
He kept a firm grasp around the android’s waist as he stumbled both from trying to protest and disorientation. It only solidified Hank’s resolve seeing how easily he managed to manhandle his partner into the passenger side of his car. There was no way Connor would let him do this if he was feeling one-hundred percent.
“Androids don’t get fevers,” Connor mumbled as Hank buckled him in.
“Is that right.” Concern and annoyance battled for Hank’s attention and he found himself quickly running out of patience as Connor continued to insist he was okay even as his eyes swam with exhaustion and shivers rattled through him. His impromptu nap had clearly been ineffective and his energy was waning rapidly.
“I-I don’t understand,” Connor babbled as they got closer to home, panic creeping into his voice, “what’s happening to me? My diagnostics, th-they a-aren’t…” His head lolled as they went over a speed bump and he screwed his eyes shut against a headache, moaning like a wounded animal. Hank’s temper ebbed as he looked at the picture of misery beside him.
“If you don’t let yourself rest, eventually your body does it for you,” he explained softly. “It sucks, kid.” It took all his willpower to avoid saying I told you so, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation.
“It s-sucks,” affirmed Connor as they finally pulled into the driveway.
As Hank helped Connor out of the car he not-so-subtly felt his forehead again, displeased to find his temperature had risen substantially. He was burning up like an over-clocked laptop.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Unsatisfactory.”
“Gotta give me more than that, kid,” Hank snorted. “Hot, cold? Pain anywhere?” From simply observing Connor he could take an educated guess at the list of symptoms, but he wanted the deviant to identify them for himself. It was the way Connor’s mind worked; he needed to analyse something to understand it, including his own emotions. Dictionary definitions had been crucial in those early days of deviancy and Hank reasoned that sickness could be similarly tackled.
“Um… My systems i-indicate that I am c-cold,” Connor frowned, “but you said that I’m o-overheat-ting?”
“That’s pretty standard when it comes to fevers. What else?”
Sumo circled them as they entered the house, whining in concern as he picked up on Connor’s unsatisfactory mood. Hank deposited Connor on the sofa and helped him remove his shoes as he pondered what he was feeling.
“I feel pain… in my head. A-And my eyes. And my legs, and—everywhere. I-Is that st-standard, too?” Glassy, panicked eyes stared into Hank’s face as he crouched in front of the android. He was shivering uncontrollably now, arms wrapped around his middle and Hank felt his heart break a little. Trying hard to project comfort he placed his hand on Connor’s knee.
“Hey, listen to me. You’re fine, you’re just sick, or whatever you wanna call it.”
“Malfunctioning?”
“Sure, yeah. But it’s not something we can’t fix. First we need to cool you down, then we’ll figure out the rest. Okay?”
“O-Okay…”
“Think you can walk to the bathroom? I’ll help.” Connor’s eyes struggled to focus, his pupils contracting and drifting, but he steeled his expression and nodded. Serious and determined, like this was his most important mission yet. Hank grasped both his hands and the two men stood together slowly. Connor swayed on his socked feet and suddenly Hank was teaching his son to walk again. He shoved the memory back where it belonged and focused instead on making sure Connor didn’t trip over a well-intentioned Sumo as they made their way to the bathroom. He sat Connor down on the toilet lid and helped him out of his clothes until he was down to just his boxers before moving to fill the bathtub with lukewarm water. He wasn’t sure if androids could experience the shock of ice cold water, but he wasn’t about to test that theory and risk making Connor feel worse. It was only noon, he had all afternoon to take care of his friend.
Connor’s balance continued to waver as he sat hunched on the toilet, his head hung low and his eyes held shut in discomfort. Hank wondered if he was feeling nauseous, could feel nauseous? When the tub was filled halfway he all but carried Connor into the water, his uncoordinated limbs more of a hindrance than a help at this point. Something popped in his back as he stood up again but he pushed through the pain to fetch a washcloth and rinse it under the cold tap. Connor flinched as he draped it over his forehead but then seemed to melt under the sensation. He fluttered his eyes open and transfixed Hank with his sleepy gaze.
“Thanks, Hank.”
The sincerity caught Hank off guard and he hastily waved the gratitude away, adding more cold to the bath now that Connor was submerged.
“You’d do the same for me. Hell, you have, on multiple occasions. It’s nothing.”
“Those were hangovers.”
“Tomato, tomato. It’s just what you do when someone’s not feeling good.”
“You… bathe them?”
Hank snorted at the pure innocence of the question.
“No, you moron! You take care of them.”
Connor looked thoughtful as Hank gradually worked to cool him down, thoughts warring against the exhaustion trying to drag his eyelids closed. His head rolled back on the ledge of the bath and Hank thought he looked drunk.
“I’m glad that you’re here to take care of me.”
“I told you, kid, it’s nothing. How do you feel now?”
“Better, I think…?” The shivers had subsided somewhat but Connor grimaced as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. “I’m still experiencing pain.”
“Like, in your joints and stuff?”
“And my head.”
“Yeah, I think that’s just old-fashioned tiredness,” Hank hummed. “How’s your temperature?”
“37.8 degrees Celsius. It is within normal ranges again.”
“Good,” Hank breathed, draining the water before offering his hand. “Come on, let’s put some clothes on your ass.”
Connor stumbled on the way out of the tub and still didn’t look completely steady on his feet, though it was sights better than before and Hank hoped that some good sleep would help. He wasn’t hot to the touch anymore, at least. He managed to get dressed on his own into the comfy clothes that Hank fetched him but wouldn’t let go of Hank’s arm as they walked back into the living room.
“How ‘bout you take a nap on the sofa while I make myself some lunch?” Hank offered, adding half-joking, “That way I can keep an eye on ya.” Connor looked less than pleased with the idea of a nap but he allowed Hank to steer him that way and lay down without protest. In the short time it took Hank to retrieve a blanket from the cupboard his eyes had slipped shut and Hank took that as a victory. Connor stirred as the blanket was draped over him but quieted easily with some gentle words. Hank settled into his armchair with a sandwich and a book, ready and willing to stay put for the rest of the afternoon. With Sumo settled at his feet he smiled content and thought that Connor should get sick more often if it meant days off like this.