Polyoptigon17

The first time Connor was hugged was the morning after the revolution. He’d agreed to meet up with Hank outside the Chicken Feed once everything had settled down. It was early morning, unusually early for the lieutenant to be awake. Connor hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been for Hank to pull him into his arms, holding him close. After the initial shock, the warmth was the first thing Connor had registered. His arms returned the hug on autopilot as he tried to absorb as much of the feeling as possible. The way it chased away the stress and fear that had been plaguing him ever since Amanda’s takeover.

He’d felt safe and cared for in a way he didn’t know how to handle. It wasn’t anything he’d ever expected to feel, for a number of reasons.

The technicians and engineers at CyberLife only ever touched him for testing or repair purposes. The testing mostly involved gauging what his body could withstand before destruction and weeding out any sliver of deviancy.

They’d shot him, electrocuted him, burned him, bled him out, damaged each biocomponent one by one to determine which were more critical than others. One iteration - 32 if he remembered correctly - had been wedged into a large vice. The engineers had slowly increased the pressure, tightening it bit by bit until his chassis cracked and eventually split apart. Memories from those earlier transfers were patchy, some parts clear and intense and others faded into only a vague recollection. He remembered the pressure.

The few times CyberLife bothered to repair rather than replace him were less destructive though still cold. Their hands were careful but never gentle, nothing like Hank’s cradling the back of his head - as if he were something dear. Most of the time, they didn’t use their hands at all, guiding a computer-controlled repair arm instead. And Amanda… well her rare, fleeting touch was never violent but it was always brief and - looking back on it - detached.

He hadn’t cared at the time. He’d known what hugging was, or at least how it could be used as a manipulation tactic. Unlike most combat models, the CyberLife engineers had designed his chassis and synthetic skin to more closely reflect the softer, nearly human feel of more domestic androids for just that purpose. That had been before his purpose was changed from detective android to deviant hunter.

Connor’s outlook had changed after deviating. He saw the displays of affection other androids showed each other at the abandoned church, after he got Jericho raided. It was the first time he’d ever felt a sense of longing. He still never thought it was something he would ever get to experience. At the time, he honestly didn’t even think he would make it to the end of the revolution. But he had, somehow.

And when Hank wanted to meet with him after everything calmed down, he felt that longing again. Their partnership had started off strained, and at first, Connor expected no different treatment than what CyberLife had shown him. But by that night, Hank was the only friend Connor had. It was good to see him again, and despite that odd longing still there, Connor would have considered it enough.

Then Hank had hugged him. Not only that, but took him in and gave him a home. In the months since then they’d only gotten closer. Hank had said they were family on a number of occasions, and calling Connor ‘son’ was a daily occurrence. All of it never failed to bring a smile to his face and yet… he still felt that longing sometimes. Times like right now. It’d taken a while to identify what exactly this feeling was, but he knew now. Connor wanted a hug. Of course, Hank had hugged him since that night but it was usually a show of comfort when he was distressed or hurt. Connor was neither of those things right now.

They were sitting at their desks at work, dealing with a backlog of paperwork since they had no active cases at the moment. Connor’s stress levels were at a low 7%, and that was only due to his frustration at this longing that wouldn’t go away. It had been going on for days now, with no sign of fading like it usually did. Even hugging Sumo had only helped temporarily, and he’d hugged the dog all night through his stasis cycle.

He knew what would fix it but that was the whole dilemma. There was no reason for Hank to hug him at the moment. He could try and invent a reason, but the lieutenant had gotten annoyingly good at picking up when Connor was lying. Initiating one himself out of nowhere felt too daunting to consider when there was no precedent for it. He didn’t want to be pushed away. That would only make the feeling worse.

“Connor, you either need to tell me what’s going on or stop staring at me,” Hank snapped. Connor hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. He blinked and looked away, back to his monitor. There was only one viable option left. He would just have to ask outright. It was an admittedly awkward option, but a verbal rejection would hurt less and hopefully also be less of a bother.

“Was kinda hoping you’d go with the first option,” Hank muttered a little quieter. Now it was him scrutinizing Connor. “Everything alright, son?”

He couldn’t ask now, not when they were at work. The idea of being laughed at for his request was doubly terrible if it happened in front of all of his colleagues.

“Fine. Just thinking,” Connor said, meeting his eyes with what he hoped came off as a reassuring smile. It must have been good enough because Hank dropped it. He tried to focus back on his work, pushing all those distracting thoughts from his head to be dealt with later.

Connor sat huddled against the wall, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around himself. The door leading back into the building was a few feet to his right. A cool wind blew past and he curled in on himself further. He hadn’t remembered his jacket when he left, and the roof of the DPD did little to block the icy breeze.

Connor hated heights, but that was exactly what made this spot ideal. Hank knew that he hated heights and so the likelihood of him searching for Connor here was low. He couldn’t face the lieutenant right now, not after what he’d said to the man.

“I’m not your son, Lieutenant.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Connor?”

“You can’t replace Cole with a machine!”  

Connor would never forget Hank’s face when he said those words. His processor kept bringing the memory up unbidden, reminding him just how badly he’d screwed everything up. There had been anger, burning hotter than Connor had seen it even before the revolution, and also hurt. Connor knew there was no way his presence was welcome in Hank’s house after that so he’d left. He’d walked here after and had been sitting here for roughly two and a half hours now. He was usually good about keeping precise times but everything since the argument blurred together. He didn’t even remember any of the trip to the station.

Hank hated him for what he said, Connor knew it. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but it was probably what he deserved. Connor didn’t deserve to have Hank care about him, to be considered anything other than a partner at work - though he doubted Hank would even want to have that connection to him now.

“Everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love another human being.”

Hank had said that once, all those months ago, before the revolution. Hank’s view on androids had changed drastically since then, yet the words still rang around Connor’s head. A piece of plastic could never replace a real person.

Still, he wished he had chosen his words better or at least remained calm when saying them. Maybe then there wouldn’t have been that hurt sitting beneath the anger in Hank’s gaze. He dropped his head against his arms, tucking his face against his knees. Being reminded of the height along with the other thoughts swirling through his head was sending his stress levels into dangerous territory.

Connor closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing, hoping to lower his stress. Even if he didn’t need the air, focusing on the motion usually helped. Though it also brought frozen air into his artificial lungs, lowering his core temperature further. He ignored the warning - and the tremors running through his shoulders - and continued to breathe in slow even measures.

But he was barely able to make any progress with his stress levels before he heard the door next to him opening. His head shot up, eyes widening when he saw Hank stepping outside. Their eyes met and Connor’s body tensed, fingers locking tighter in their grip on his legs. His sensors spiked as if he were in combat, sending a rush of information through his processor in under a second.

He should talk. He should apologize for what he said and explain himself. He should say something, but the words caught in his throat. Hank was frowning, forehead creasing as he stared down at him. He must still be angry, but then why look for Connor? And how…

“How did you find me?” he croaked, surprised by his own voice, at how rough it sounded. He swallowed.

“Location sharing,” Hank said after a moment, holding up his phone before sliding the device into his pocket.

They’d set up location sharing barely two weeks after Connor moved in with Hank, at the lieutenant’s insistence. He claimed it was because Connor tended to run off after suspects and Hank wanted to be able to find him when he couldn’t keep up. Connor hadn’t been reinstated at the DPD yet, but he agreed anyway. He’d forgotten about that.

“Oh,” he murmured, making a mental note to turn it off later.

“Still searched the whole building first, almost didn’t come up here,” Hank’s frown deepened, ”Why are you up here? Aren’t you afraid of heights?”

“I didn’t think you would look here,” Connor admitted quietly, dropping his eyes to Hank’s feet. He didn’t want to see the lieutenant’s reaction to his words. Especially not when he knew he was making the situation worse. He didn’t think Hank would look for him at all.

The car was unusually quiet. Not completely, but the radio was turned down to a much lower volume than Hank usually kept it at. It felt wrong to leave it cranked all the way up right now, given the situation. Hank spared a glance at Connor in the passenger seat. He looked fine, but Hank couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous.

They’d been working a case for a while now that had at first seemed like a usual homicide, but turned out to be an android trafficking ring. Connor had been taking the lead on this case since the beginning, his first time being in charge.

Hank had initiated it, thinking it was a good time for Connor to lead a case. He’d been with the DPD a couple of months now and it was natural for partners to switch up who took charge every now and then. He’d done all this thinking it would be a relatively simple case.

It wasn’t that he thought Connor couldn’t do it. No, he was perfectly capable, Hank had no doubt about that. It was just that the whole thing had become a lot more dangerous, especially now that they were on their way to bust said android trafficking ring. Connor could do everything perfectly and still, something could go wrong. Especially with him leading the whole charge.

“So, how’re you feeling?” Hank asked. The kid may seem calm, but Hank wanted to check in before they arrived, to make sure. Connor turned his head to look at him, allowing Hank to glimpse his LED. It was an even blue.

“I’m okay. How are you feeling, Lieutenant?” he returned the question, tilting his head to the side in that puppyish way of his.

“You sure you aren’t even a little nervous?” Hank asked. Connor stayed staring at him, silent and unblinking. Hank rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. Now answer the question.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Connor’s lips. The damn kid was just as stubborn about not letting Hank avoid questions, even ones that were probably only asked to try and change the topic. Especially those, actually, but Hank knew what he was doing so it wasn’t going to work. Connor realized this, and his ever-perfect posture deflated a little. The barest hint of yellow tarnished his LED for a second but was gone as soon as it came.

“I am a little on edge,” Connor admitted, “But I ran several preconstructions last night and this morning to determine as many potential outcomes as possible. There’s no way to account for everything, but I think I’m prepared.”

So he’d been up all night thinking about it, probably not getting a wink of sleep, or whatever it was the kid called it. Hank himself had more trouble than usual falling asleep, though had managed a few hours. Part of him wanted to tease Connor about it, but he didn’t want to put him more on edge. That was the goal here. It wouldn’t be good for Hank to let on how nervous he was feeling about all of this either.

“Knowing you, I’m sure you got pretty damn close to considering every scenario,” he said instead.

“I hope so. People can be very unpredictable at times,” Connor frowned.

“Which is why you need to be careful, you hear me?”

“I know, Hank,” Connor said, dropping the formality he typically upheld when on the clock for a moment. Still keeping his eyes on the road, Hank clumsily pat him on the shoulder.

“As long as we’re clear about that.”

He left Connor alone with his thoughts after that, and the rest of the drive happened in relative silence. All too soon though, they were pulling up to the run-down warehouse this trafficking ring was supposedly operating out of. A couple of other officers on the raiding party had already arrived, but they were still waiting on a few more.

Hank turned in his seat then to properly face Connor, clamping his hands down on the android’s shoulders. He could feel the tension in his frame, one not born from being constructed primarily out of metal and plastic.

“This is your first time leading a case, and one as big as this would make anyone nervous. But I know that you can do this, Connor. You’re a damn good detective, and you’ve gotten us this far in solving the whole thing. All that’s left is to bring those bastards down,” he said, dropping his hands when he felt Connor relax.

“Right,” Connor smiled, “we should start getting in position then.” They both got out of the car, and Connor began talking with some of the officers already present. It didn’t take very long for the rest to arrive.

“Hank, I am uncertain about this,” Connor admitted, stopping just outside the doors of the large department store. It was filled with seemingly endless racks of clothes of all different colors and styles. Groups of people moved about the aisles and while Connor didn’t always mind crowds, right now it made the place seem even more overwhelming.

“What’s there to be uncertain about? Just go look around, son,” Hank said, and gently shoved him forward into the entrance.

“It isn’t necessary,” he’d tried this argument before leaving the house. It hadn’t worked then, but it was worth another chance. “I already have clothes, I don’t-”

“That uniform,” he pointed distastefully at what Connor was wearing now, “doesn’t count as having clothes. You’re free now, you don’t need to keep walking around with their logo plastered all over you.”

Connor frowned. Hank wasn’t the only one to express those feelings. Markus and the other leaders of Jericho had voiced similar sentiments in their own ways and other androids would often scowl at the shining blue triangles. It wasn’t that he was attached to CyberLife or their logo necessarily, he’d cut any other ties with them after all, but there was a certain familiarity to his uniform. It was the only outfit he’d ever known aside from clothes borrowed from Hank. It was one of the few things in this new post-revolution reality that he didn’t have to think about. Until now that was.

He’d spent too much time lingering, so Hank placed a hand on Connor’s back and began to walk, forcing him to move forward at the same time. He was led through the store to the side with men’s clothes.

“You can wear whatever you want now, Connor. So go pick out some things you like.” With another light shove, Hank’s hand left his back.

“I don’t know what I like,” he said, turning back around to face the lieutenant. For a moment he seemed almost upset, and Connor was about to backtrack the statement, but then he shook his head and the expression faded.

“Well, you won’t know until you try. How about this, you pick out anything that catches your eye and I’ll pick out some stuff too. Then you can try it all on,” Hank suggested. He didn’t give Connor the opportunity to disagree, leaving him alone to look elsewhere.

Now alone, Connor felt lost standing amongst the clothes racks. Finding something that ‘caught his eye’ as Hank put it seemed just as intangible as finding something he liked, but the longer he stood there doing nothing the more awkward he felt. He approached the nearest rack, looking at the shirts hanging there. They were all T-shirts with designs from different shows and games, none of which Connor knew anything about.

He wandered a little further into the department, making his way back to where there were rows of dress shirts. Right now he simply washed his clothes each time they became dirty, which happened more often than he’d like. It would be practical to have more options for work. He liked things that were practical, so maybe this would count.

Scanning the selection, he picked out one in black and one in dark blue. He already had a white button-up, and these would be other professional colors for him to wear. Connor also picked up a dark gray blazer from a sale rack, similar to the one he was wearing in all but the branding that Hank complained about.

He wasn’t sure what else he would need…. Maybe one more pair of slacks? He added that to the small pile in his arms, then set out to look for Hank. With his scanners, it didn’t take very long to find the lieutenant in the casual section. He’d grabbed a basket at some point and Connor’s eyebrows furrowed at the assortment of colorful clothes piled in it.

“Hank?” Connor called as he approached.

“You found some stuff?” he asked, turning around.

“Yes. I think these would be good for work,” Connor confirmed, holding up his findings.

“That’s it?”

“I wasn’t sure what else to pick,” Connor shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling inadequate.

“That’s okay,” Hank said, even as his expression said otherwise, “I’ve got plenty here for you to try. Come on.”

He let Hank lead him away again, this time to the nearby fitting rooms. He shoved the pile of clothes in the basket into Connor’s arms, pushing him into one of the rooms.

The items Hank picked out were confusing. There were a few things similar to what the lieutenant wore, bright colors and borderline obnoxious patterns. But there were also more muted colors and T-shirts like the ones he’d seen on the first rack. It looked more like he’d picked out just anything rather than going for a particular style.

He picked up one of the shirts that matched Hank’s wardrobe. It was a bright orange with neon blue lines zigzagging across it what could barely be considered a pattern. He slipped off his CyberLife jacket and white button-up, trying on the brightly colored shirt. Then he examined himself in the mirror. It was very casual and very bright.

“You got something on?” Hank called from the other side of the door.

“Yes.”

“Well, come on out, let me see it.”

Connor opened the door. A large smirk spread across Hank’s face the moment he saw him. “Wow. Didn’t think you’d actually give that one a chance,” he was trying to hold back laughter.

“It was on the top of the pile.”

“Come on, Connor, it’s time to go,” Hank said from behind Connor, breaking through his focus. They were at a crime scene, or more like revisiting a crime scene. The murder had happened two nights ago and they’d made no progress since. Connor was hoping he might be able to find more clues.

“You can head home, Lieutenant. I can continue looking around on my own,” he said, not bothering to turn around. His focus was already returning to the scene. Tape outlined where the victim, an AV500 named Troy, had been found. No biocomponents were missing which likely ruled out black market sales as a motive, and no thirium was taken either. No, what wasn’t in Troy’s body had been splattered along the wall and pooled around him. Despite the two days that had passed, Connor could still see it. He’d died from-

“Like hell, I’m leaving you here alone,” Hank interrupted his thoughts again. “You’d probably spend the whole night here.”

“I wouldn’t,” Connor replied.

“Uhuh,” Hank didn’t sound convinced, “And what if whoever did this comes back, huh?”

“At least then I would have a chance to catch them,” he muttered. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, knowing how Hank would react, but it was too late now.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I need to solve this.” Connor crossed his arms over his chest, staring hard at the tape outline. This was the third homicide case to come to them this week, and the only one with any evidence.

Hank made a noise of exasperation but Connor tuned it out. Troy had died from blunt trauma to the head, damaging his processor. The apartment showed signs of forced entry, so it likely wasn’t someone he knew or at least anyone he was on friendly terms with. And adding to that was the fact that it hadn’t just been one blow. No, whoever did this had struck him over and over until his face was barely recognizable. Connor couldn’t place if the hatred was personal or bigotry, but there was no question about the emotion driving this crime.

“Connor, look at me.”

Troy had tried to fight back or struggle at the very least. The coffee table was shoved out of place and a lamp was knocked over, shattering the bulb. He hadn’t managed to land any blows, not any that left evidence behind. No blood or thirium from another android. Connor had taken enough samples to be sure of the second. But maybe closer inspection could reveal something he missed.

“Connor!” Hank stepped in front of him now, blocking his vision and giving him no choice but to acknowledge his partner. He clenched his jaw, glaring at him.

“Yes?"

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing has ‘gotten into me’, Lieutenant. I’m trying to solve this case.”

“I thought we were over this obsession with completing missions.”

Connor stiffened, crossing his arms over his chest. That wasn’t what this was about, surely Hank knew that. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to do my job,” he snapped back.

“All I’m saying is that you’re gonna burn out at this rate, kid.”

“I’m fine, and it isn’t really any concern of yours, Lieutenant. You can leave whenever you want,” he tried to move around Hank but was caught by a firm grip around his arm.

“Like hell it isn’t my concern! Jesus fucking Christ, do you always have to be this difficult?” he near shouted. Connor couldn’t place his expression. It wasn’t angry, but it certainly was intense. He felt his own irritation faltering in the face of it and he looked away.

“I am not being difficult on purpose.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Hank sighed, grip loosening marginally on his arm. “I get that you’re frustrated by our progress on this, but staying here all night isn’t going to fix that. You need a break.”

A small frown tugged at Connor’s lips as he met Hank’s eyes again. “I know… But I don’t think I’d be able to stop thinking about it even if I left now, so,” he shrugged, “what’s the point?”

“The point is you need sleep.”

“Stasis.”

“Whatever. You need to rest. So just come home now and we can come back here first thing tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay,” Connor finally relented.

“And no thinking about the case.”

“Hank-”

“Connor.”

Connor glared a little. “Fine.”

Hank always complained about him being too stubborn, and yet it was always the lieutenant who seemed to win out in the end. Hank smiled, dropping his grip to Connor’s hand instead and tugging him out of the house. It felt wrong to be leaving without having made any progress but Hank didn’t give him a moment to pause now that he’d agreed to leave, and before he knew it they were in the car.

He hadn’t paid much attention to the time before, but now Connor was noticing just how late it was. It was already dark out, the sun having set at some point while they were investigating.

Hank switched the radio from the heavy metal that was playing earlier to a jazz playlist. It wasn’t quite as lively as what they usually listened to, taking on a more mellow tone. Connor knew what Hank was trying to do but that didn’t stop it from working. The music was soothing, easing stress levels he hadn’t even noticed had risen in the first place. He relaxed back into the seat, allowing himself to enjoy it until they got home.

“Less grouchy now?” Hank smirked at him as he turned off the car.

“I was never grouchy in the first place,” Connor said, getting out. Hank followed behind. He was still smirking at him, and it almost made Connor feel a little embarrassed. Maybe he had been a tad agitated. He could realize that now that his stress levels had lowered.

“The music helped,” he admitted.

“There we go,” Hank unlocked the front door. Sumo was overjoyed to see them, treating their prolonged absence with all the drama he felt it deserved. That meant nearly knocking Connor to the ground in his excitement to plant his paws on the android’s shoulders, and it was only Hank’s steadying hand that kept him upright.

Hank glanced up from his computer screen to the desk across from him again, probably for the millionth time in the past hour. Connor sat in his chair, posture tense and LED spinning a stressed yellow. His eyes were fixed on his own terminal, but Hank doubted he was actually paying much attention to it.  

A blinding snowstorm raged outside. It’d started light, but then ramped up too suddenly for them to leave. Now the roads were covered, far too dangerous to drive on, leaving them stuck here until the damn thing passed. Them and a few of their other coworkers who had the misfortune of working the same shift. Hank had already decided that he and Connor were going to take the next day off as soon as they got out of here since they were basically working a double now. 

The wind howled outside and the lights over the bullpen flickered momentarily. Gavin swore from off to the side. 

“If this shit deletes my fucking report…”

Hank ignored the grumbling, paying more attention to Connor who had flinched - really more of a twitch - and now looked even more locked in place. He rolled his chair away from his own desk until he was parked next to Connor. 

“How’re you holding up, kid?” he asked, keeping his voice low. 

Connor only looked at him for a moment before his eyes glanced around the room then settled back on his computer screen where the same case file had been open for the last hour. His LED flickered red for half a second then cycled back to yellow. 

“Fine.” 

Hank sighed and scooched his chair closer. “You know you can tell me if you aren’t, right?” he pressed. 

“I know,” his eyes looked over Hank’s shoulder at the rest of the bullpen again, “but I’m managing. I’m okay. Really.” 

Hank wanted to press more but didn’t see that ending like he wanted, so he simply patted Connor’s shoulder and rolled back to his own desk.

“Alright. But you let me know if that changes.”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” 

Hank rolled his eyes. They were well beyond the point of formal titles, and yet Connor still insisted on calling him that at work. Hank would almost call it endearing, but he’d never say it out loud. After all, his reputation as a hard-boiled police lieutenant was barely hanging on by a thread at this point. 

He pulled up a case report of his own and began working his way through it. For once his backlog was short, just this and one other case. He and Connor had taken to splitting up the things fifty-fifty and he was almost positive the android had already finished his stack. Hank was trying to drag his out to have something to do while trapped in here, but he could only go so slow with these things. 

A coffee break certainly wouldn’t hurt that goal. He’d already had a couple, but it’d been at least an hour so he was due for another. He stood up from his desk, taking one last glance at Connor, before grabbing his mug and meandering over to the break room. Tina was in there, nursing her own cup of coffee and staring down at her phone. 

He went to the coffee machine, which was thankfully still hot. Looks like Tina had made a fresh pot. He picked it up and poured the steaming liquid into his mug. The liquid burned when he took a sip, but it helped wake him up.

”Think this’ll pass anytime soon?” he asked. Tina glanced up from her phone for a moment, giving a tired sigh. 

“Not likely. The storm doesn’t stop until two at the earliest.” And then they still had to wait for the plows to pass through and clear the roads. 

“Of course...” he muttered. He’d really hoped he wouldn’t have to spend the whole night here, or at least that it’d be the plows holding him up and not the storm. Instead, they’d have to sit through another seven hours at least of this. He took another sip of his coffee, leaning against the counter behind him. His slacking off was cut short though when he heard Gavin raising his voice from the bullpen. 

“Could you stop it with the fucking light show already, tin can? Some of us are trying to focus,” he snapped. 

“I didn’t realize you were so incompetent a light is enough to prevent you from working,” Connor snapped back. Hank’s eyes widened, and he turned to Tina who had an equally shocked expression. 

“The fuck did you say to me?”

”Can you leave me the fuck alone for one night?”

Tina’s jaw dropped and Hank swore under his breath, setting his mug on the counter and speed walking out of the break room. He heard Tina following behind him. He’d only heard Connor curse once before, and he knew it couldn’t mean anything good. Everyone in the bullpen was staring in varying levels of shock, Gavin looking the worst of them all. He was also the first to break out of it though, face twisting in anger. 

He shot up from his desk and stormed toward Connor. Hank knew he needed to intervene, but he only made it halfway across the bullpen before Gavin reached his partner. He fisted a hand in the android’s shirt, yanking him up. 

“Don’t touch me!” Connor shouted, and at the same moment, his fist connected with Gavin’s face. A loud crack rang through the room followed by the detective cursing and screaming as he fell onto his ass. Hank would’ve congratulated Connor for finally socking the asshole if he didn’t see the barely concealed panic in his eyes. And then Connor sped from the room, disappearing down the hallway leading to the interview rooms. Gavin stumbled to his feet ready to follow, but Hank stepped in, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and halting him in his tracks.

________________________

Hank pulled into the small parking lot, ignoring the dingy state of it even as his shoe crunched on a discarded soda can as soon as he stepped out of the car. The afternoon sun sinking towards the horizon behind him illuminated the selection of bottles displayed in the front window of the liquor store. He walked up to the window, peering in at the selection. Light glinted off the bottles reflecting off each other in a way that seemed to illuminate them like a beacon. It was just what he needed.

He went through the door, the small bell at the top ringing his entrance. He went to the back of the store, scanning over the various bottles of whiskey lined up on the shelves. He’d need to get a small one, something he could bring home unnoticed to keep Connor from bitching at him about it. Connor was a good kid, but he was still an android. He didn’t understand that sometimes Hank just needed this, needed something to block out that cloud hanging over his life that crept up on him again and again. And because Connor didn’t get it he’d look at Hank with those disappointed puppy-eyes of his and make a fuss about how good Hank had been doing lately. That’s the whole reason there wasn’t already any liquor at home.

But Hank wasn’t doing good, not by a long shot. He’d been cutting back on drinking, but that didn’t mean he was okay. No, that cloud was back again and today it was storming. Connor would just have to get over it for tonight because Hank needed this. This is what would really help him to ‘do good’. Or at least he’d be so drunk he wouldn’t care.

He picked up a bottle of the strongest stuff he could find, but one small enough to slip into the pocket of his coat. They were deep pockets, thankfully, but not enough to go for his usual bottle of Black Lamb. This would have to do.

Bringing the bottle up to the counter, he paid and then slipped the bottle now wrapped in a paper bag into his coat. It was a comforting weight, a reminder that he was close to finally being able to drown out this shit day. All he had to do was get home and lock himself in his room. Connor might pout, but it wouldn’t matter as long as Hank didn’t have to see it. He could pretend it wasn’t happening right along with everything else as he enjoyed his drink.  

As soon as he was in his car the bottle tempted him, but even in his current mood, he knew he should at least wait until he got home. So he cranked up the stereo until the car’s frame vibrated with heavy metal beats. He screamed along with the lyrics the rest of the way home.

When he pulled into the driveway the sun was grazing the horizon, ready to disappear before the hour was up. The lights were on in the house, glowing a soft yellow.

Instead of immediately getting out, Hank sat in his now quiet car. Hank had been forced to stay later at work to wrap up a few case reports he’d been putting off so Connor got home ahead of him. While it gave him the opportunity to stop for his drink, he still wouldn’t be able to completely avoid him. With all the lights on that meant Connor was in the living room, which wasn’t surprising, but it meant he couldn’t sneak in unnoticed. He tapped his finger against the steering wheel, waiting a few more seconds as if it could magically make Connor not be waiting to bother him the second he walked through the door. The lights remained on.

Hank groaned and heaved himself out of the car before trudging up to the door. Up close now, he could hear Connor’s voice drifting through from inside. He was saying something to Sumo in the most awkward baby voice Hank had ever heard. Hank’s lips twitched but didn’t make it all the way to a smile. Maybe if he was lucky Connor would be too distracted with the dog and Hank could do what he wanted.

He pulled out his keys, double-checking the whiskey was still safely concealed in his coat pocket, before unlocking the door and pushing it open. Connor was in the kitchen, crouched in front of Sumo with a hand squishing either side of the dog’s face. He looked up at Hank’s entrance, the smile remaining as both he and Sumo got up.

“Welcome home, Hank,” he greeted. Sumo bounded over, nearly knocking Hank down in his excitement. He gave the dog a few quick pats to hopefully placate him enough to slip by.

“Hey,” he returned the greeting, eyes darting to the hallway. If he just continued walking now he could be in his room and continue on as he planned. The bottle weighed down his coat on the side and Hank belatedly wondered if it was obvious something was in the pocket. He started toward the hall.

“If you’re hungry I made lasagna. It’s almost finished baking,” Connor said, causing Hank to pause. The kid didn’t seem like he was suspicious of Hank yet. He was fidgeting but his LED was still a clam blue.

“Chris gave me the recipe. He promised it wouldn’t be too complicated, so it should come out okay,” Connor added.

Connor had been absolutely terrible at cooking when he moved in with Hank after the revolution. It wasn’t something he was programmed to do and his first dish looked more like a poisoning attempt than a meal. But he wasn’t deterred. And instead of just downloading the program, he decided he was going to learn how to cook the old-fashioned way. Maybe that was why he always got this nervous energy about him when making something new for the first time.

“It smells good. I’ll have some after I get changed,” Hank said. It did smell good, really good actually, now that Hank bothered to pay attention. And the way Connor’s smile brightened at his comment killed any impatience he may have been feeling. He could always eat real quick and then have his drink.

He went to his room, and quietly closed the door behind him. He took the whiskey bottle out and quickly stashed it in one of the drawers in his closet. Then he changed out of his work clothes into something more comfortable. He didn’t linger too long, knowing he probably wouldn’t leave the room if he did, and went back to the kitchen. Connor was pulling a dish from the oven, and the whole room was filled with the smell. Sumo stood near the counter, eyes tracking the food as he dripped drool all over the floor.

Hank walked up behind Connor to peek over his shoulder at the lasagna. It was a little burnt around the edges but otherwise looked as good as it smelled. He grabbed a plate and a fork, and let Connor cut out a serving for him. It was practically overflowing with meat and cheese, spilling out onto Hank’s plate as soon as Connor put the slice down.

“I see you didn’t mess with the recipe to make it healthier,” Hank noted, taking his plate to the table. Sumo lay down next to him, resting his head on his feet to better beg for a taste.

“I wanted to follow the recipe exactly first. I can make adjustments next time,” Connor said. He went to the fridge and grabbed water for Hank and a thirium for himself. As an android, he couldn’t really eat, but he’d still usually have some thirium to sit and eat with Hank so he wasn’t just staring at him.

“Besides, I figured you would enjoy it more this way,” Connor noted as he also took a seat. Hank nodded in agreement, cutting into the pasta with his fork and taking a bite. Connor really didn’t skimp on any of the ingredients however unhealthy, and it was everything a lasagna should be. It was warm and savory and maybe a little heavy on the tomato sauce, but it was delicious all the same. Hank took the time to savor it, then noticed Connor watching him from the corner of his eye. He raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like it?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, you did really good with this one, kid,” Hank said, taking another bite. Connor grinned and stopped staring at Hank to sip on his thirium.

“I’m glad. I’ll have to make sure any changes don’t mess with the flavor too much.”

“Y’know, some foods are supposed to be unhealthy. It’s what makes them good,” Hank pointed out.

“Healthy food can taste good too. Maybe if I added some spinach…”

“As long as it’s not cauliflower again.”

“That was one time,” Connor was almost pouting now, and Hank couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“I’m pretty sure the pizza wasn’t supposed to be wet.”

Connor had attempted to follow the trend of replacing dough with cauliflower but it’d failed spectacularly. The cauliflower had never reached a dough consistency and instead ended up as a bunch of small chunks mushed together in the general shape of a pizza. Adding cheese did not help and baking it somehow just made the cauliflower wet. That was one experiment Hank hadn’t been able to choke down.

“It wasn’t supposed to be wet. I did what the recipe said, but it wasn’t clear on how to prepare the cauliflower.”

“Pretty sure it’s 'cause it was never meant to be a dough.”

“No, I just need to do more research,” Connor protested, a half-second of yellow flickering through his LED. It was too easy to tease Connor, but he didn’t want to end up actually upsetting him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he said, taking another bite of his food. “I’ve messed up more times than I can count cooking. The first time I tried to boil eggs I forgot about them. Set the whole fuckin’ pot on fire.”

Connor’s eyes widened, “you must have left them for a very long time for that to happen.”

“Probably didn’t help I had the heat turned up to max either.”

Hank shared a few more stories of his worst cooking failures, most of which took place when he first moved out of his parents' house. It felt good to share the memories with Connor, to see the amusement flash across his face at all the ways Hank managed to fuck up eggs. But all too soon he’d finished his dinner and his thoughts pulled away from the warmth of the kitchen to the bottle awaiting him in his room.

______________________

They’d been working this case for over a week now and today they finally located their suspect’s apartment. They’d been expecting resistance, so Connor was ready when he fled the moment he realized they were with the DPD. He chased after the man without a second thought, and could hear Hank cursing as they burst out the apartment doors. 

They ran down several blocks, turning corners at every opportunity. But every turn the suspect made in an attempt to slow Connor down only did the opposite, hindering his own progress. He seemed to realize this, as in a panicked motion he started trying to knock things over as he went, trash bins and one pedestrian unfortunate enough to be out for a walk. 

The gap between them widened by a couple of yards as Connor paused long enough to stop the poor woman from falling over, but it wouldn’t take long to catch up again. It wouldn’t take long before the suspect ran out of energy. He ducked around another corner, a narrow alleyway between two buildings. Connor was only a few seconds behind him, turning the corner and ready to launch himself down the alley. 

He wasn’t ready for the metal bar that swung at his face, proximity warning going off in the same instant it made contact. It cracked across the bridge of his nose and his processors stuttered to a halt. 

It took 31.64 seconds before a reboot was initiated. Connor groaned as the pain was the first thing to register, a sharp throbbing that centered between his eyes and radiated around his head. The next thing he noticed was how dark it was. He was lying flat on his back, and should have been staring up at the sky, but his vision was filled with nothing but black. He brought a hand up in front of his face, a sinking feeling settling in when his eyes still picked up nothing. He’d been ignoring the damage report but now he brought it into focus, actually taking in the information. Both of his optical units were showing as disconnected, likely irreparably damaged. 

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he almost fell back over as his gyroscope protested the motion. But he managed to fling a hand out and catch on a nearby wall before that happened. He dragged himself closer so he could lean against it for support. 

Aside from his optical units, nothing else had been severely damaged - a fact that helped to ease his rising anxiety at least a little. Though his gyroscope had suffered a minor crack, which would make getting up difficult without help. He accessed his communication program to call Hank. The lieutenant only took one ring to pick up. 

“Finally catch the guy?” Hank asked. That was usually what these calls were about, notifying Hank so he could get the car and they could bring their suspect in.

“No, he got away. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

“Seriously? How the hell did that happen?” Hank asked incredulously. Connor felt a spark of annoyance, not at his partner, but at himself.  If he’d been more prepared he could have avoided this situation. It was quickly followed by shame now that he had to tell Hank how he’d messed up their case.

“He caught me off guard.”

“Connor, what happened?” Hank asked, tone suspicious. “Since when do you get caught off guard?”  

Connor should have known that a vague answer would only make things worse.

“Can you come get me? Then we can talk about it,” Connor asked. He knew he couldn’t get out of telling him, but he didn’t want to be alone in this alley anymore. He wanted Hank. It was unnerving to be without his sight, especially when he wasn’t exactly sure where he was. 

“Why don’t you just come back to the apartment?” 

“I can’t currently see.”

There was a moment of silence before Hank was shouting, “What? What the hell do you mean you can’t see?”  

“I mean I can’t see,” Connor snapped, and grimaced as the pain spiked in his head.  “I can send you my location, but I don’t think I can find my own way back.” He accessed his GPS, sending the location to Hank. 

“No, don’t move. I’m actually closer to you than the apartment anyway,” Hank sighed, and then his voice softened a little, “Just hold on, son, I’ll be there soon.”

“Can you stay on the phone?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me know when you can hear me getting close.”  

Connor relaxed a little, listening to the sound of Hank’s breathing and footsteps over the phone while he waited. It only took a minute before he could hear the lieutenant getting close outside of the connection. 

“I can hear you now,” he said. The sound of footsteps paused, then picked up again.

“Yeah, think I hear you too.”

The call dropped, and a moment later the sound of Hank swearing came from the entrance of the alleyway. 

....