❝What the fuck?❞

“I’m dirty too, Hank.”

Connor was more than ready to call it a day, sure, it was true that physically androids didn’t get tire, but sometimes work could be mentally exhausting for him. He was about to shut down his computer when he was surprised by Hank. He had noticed that he had been carrying this small box all day but didn’t know for who it was supposed to be or what it was and when finally saw it in front of him, he took it with some hesitation. He thought Hank didn’t remember what day was today or that if he did, he simply didn’t care as much, but this small gift was proving him wrong. A small smile formed on his lips at the same time he began unwrapping the present while being extremely careful (not wanting to ruin the wrapping paper). 

“God Connor, get a room.”

that Connor might like. It had the same sort of style, samekind of color pattern but wasn't nearly as ugly as the one that he had pickedto replace the Android jacket. Shifting it around, he decided it was goodenough and paid for it at the register. Returning to the precinct, well pasthis break time by several hours, he draped the new jacket Connor's shouldersand wordlessly sat at his desk.

Connor wasn’t used to Hank leaving during break without atleast telling him where he was going, but Connor also knew from pastexperiences that constantly calling or trying to track him down came off as annoyingrather than the deep sense of caring that it was in Connor’s mind.

Still, he was worried about Hank as he attempted to do his work.His productivity was down several percent, but he did not much care. He keptglancing up, wondering if maybe Hank just was tired and went home, or worse.Connor did not want to think about having to check bars nearby after work, sohe felt a rush of relief when Hank finally showed back up.

He was just about to ask where he’d been and inform him thathe’d saved all of Hank’s work for him to do, when he felt something on hisshoulders. Connor reached up and touched soft fabric, a strange feeling in hischest as he quickly realized what it was. He pulled the jacket off and held itout to examine it.

He scanned, detecting slight adhesive residue from a pricetag as well as fibers indicating it had never been worn. Brand new and exactly hissize and even his favorite style, as if whoever picked it out knew him verywell.

“This is…for me?”

He thought of the ratty sweatshirt he wore at home to staycozy, and how he could only ever wear it there, how he’d been wearing hisuniform still everyday for the professionalism and simply because he didn’thave anything else. Now he did.

“Thank you…” He felt like crying, like crying and huggingHank, but both of those sentimental responses probably weren’t best for themiddle of work. He decided to just stand up and put it on, shedding his uniformand tossing it on the chair.

He put the new jacket on, feeling how soft yet sturdy itwas, and how much pocket room it had. He made a mental note to get his favoritecoin out of the pocket of his own coat and put it in this one.

“Hey, don’t –“ He opened his eyes and looked over. He wasabout to scold Hank for ruining his concentration, but the words died as soonas they entered his mind. Yes, Hank was bothering him, but Connor decided tosee it for what it really was. Hank was giving him attention, or maybe it washis way of asking for attention in return? Well, Connor would happily oblige.

▲ @deaclbeat ;;

There’s a sticky note on the floor of the bathroom, new and clearly written last night. It lays there innocently, perhaps knocked down while Hank attempted to put it up while drunk off his ass. Clean, not vomit or dirt stains the yellow paper but there is a drop of what seemed to be dried water from last night (perhaps a tea). Hank won’t address the note if asked, barely even remembers writing it, but knows he did. To obviously his scratchy handwritting to be mistaken for anything else.

(Fun fact: this font was incredibly hard to make scratchy looking for the last word and legible at the same time. But it was the only font I could find that looked CLOSE to Hank’s writing. E n j o y.)

When Connor found the sticky note, he was on his way to throw it away, but he stopped when he read it. He stood there and probably read it two or three times more as a smile found a way to his lips. The note only consisted of four words, but this really meant a lot to him and just reading it made him feel exactly that. Important and happy as well.

▲ @deaclbeat ;;

Every day it was the same thing, the looks, the insults, he could feel them and heard what was said behind his back. Every day he tried his best to find ways to make up for his mistakes, for what he had done to his people and humans as well, but no matter what he did, it was never enough. There were days that felt worse than others, days where he just wanted to stay in his bedroom away from everyone while he waited for all these unwanted emotions to disappear and never come back. Sometimes he still caught himself hoping that one of these days, things would get better for him and he would finally start living, be happy, but every day he asked himself 'When?'.

"I can't..." He turned his head to look away from him, almost ashamed of what he was about to share with him. "Not anymore." He was tired, tired of doing everything he could to belong, to be accepted and the worst part was that he was convinced that perhaps this was what he deserved, that yes, everything that happened had been his fault. Why should he be allowed to be happy when too many had died because of him. "I want to go back to not feeling anything anymore, to being this thing that I was..." Yes, nothing but a machine, but at least he wouldn't be forced to 'live' like this each day.

Yeah. That nickname wasn’t going away anytime soon. He tipped his head in a greeting and stopped short at the edge of the Lieutenant's desk.