#moralmaycompletionist

Hank waited outside New Jericho Tower in the car whilst Connor was at his appointment. Just over an hour later he returned, and seemed content, but tired, which he could understand— even before the real work began, therapy was exhausting, and they had also been out on a shopping trip earlier.

“How’d it go, Con?”

Clicking on his seatbelt, Connor answered first with a yawn and then, “It was… good. Just the intake appointment, getting to know him…”

“Good. Same time next week?”

He nodded, eyes slipping shut, before shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

Hank chuckled. “It’s alright, you can have a nap on the way back if you want. You look tired as shit.”

Connor was out like a light, slipped into stasis before Hank had even finished his sentence. Hank shook his head with a smile, checking behind him as he reversed out of the parking space before starting the drive back home.

It was early afternoon as they drove back, a hot day but no longer in the midst of the searing heatwave that had hit the city for the past few weeks. Still, the car windows were rolled all the way down, allowing a nice cool breeze to blow through the car. From where Connor was sleeping, the air was ruffling his hair, blowing the stray curl up and down. Knights of the Black Death was playing at a reasonable volume, but even when the choruses were screamed, he didn’t wake, feeling safe and content where he was.

He only stirred once the car stopped as they arrived back home. Blinking through bleary eyes he shook his head, sitting up straight, feeling a little more energised than he had been before. Connor followed Hank out of the car and into the house, greeting Sumo who jumped up, resting his paws against his chest.

“Easy, Sumo…” he scratched behind his ears, before checking the time and noting it was about time to let him out. Deciding he may as well do it now, he made his way to the backdoor, watching the big dog run outside.

He stood by the door, watching as the dog ran around happily, and smiled. This was nice. He was glad he still had this, and that everything was beginning to feel a bit more real. Maybe they’d go inside afterward and put on the TV, and he could do some drawing while Hank watched the catchup recording of the Detroit Gears game, and—

Or maybe not.

Sumo had decided he’d found a particularly interesting scent in the flowerbed and had begun to roll in the dirt during Connor’s moment of distraction. By the time he noticed and ran over there, Sumo was thoroughly caked in mud, looking pleased about what he had done.

“Sumo…”

He picked up the dog to stop him making it any worse, but the damage was done. Shaking his head, he wondered what the procedure was for a dirty dog. Sumo seemed too large a breed to fit into the bathtub and the whole house would get dirty if he brought him back inside, unless he carried him the whole way. And did Sumo even like baths? A lot of dogs didn’t.

His train of thoughts was stopped by the sound of laughter behind him, and he turned to see Hank standing in the open doorway. He fixed him with a glare.

“Priceless…” Hank got out, holding his sides. “Absolutely fuckin’ priceless. I should take a photo of you two.”

“You do realise we both have to get him clean?”

This stopped Hank laughing, a look of horror dawning on his face. “Oh. Oh, fuck, no… he hates the bath. Barely fuckin’ fits.”

Connor tilted his head, LED whirring as he researched alternatives. “What about… do you have a paddling pool, Hank?”

“Yeah, but I don’t see what having a nice swim is gonna do about the dirty ass dog. Plus it’s a kiddie pool, I don’t think we’d both even fit in there.”

Connor stared at him, and then after a long pause, continued. “…not for us, Hank. For Sumo. Instead of getting him in the bath, we keep him out here and hose him down in a paddling pool.”

“Oh. Oh shit, good idea. I’ll go get it from the garage, you two wait here.”

About five minutes later Hank returned with the pool in tow, and once the door to the house was shut, Sumo was released, and Connor helped inflate the pool. Once that was done, he set about connecting the hose and began the work of filling it with water. Sumo was curious about this, sniffing at the sides of the pool, licking the hose in Connor’s hands and woofing when this action got him splashed in the face with water.

“Nice day for the pool,” Hank commented, as the hose was set to the side, pool now about halfway full. “It’s still pretty damn hot. Maybe Sumo rolled in the dirt on purpose, so he could play in the pool.”

Connor called Sumo over. “I don’t think dogs have complex enough thoughts to think about manipulation, Hank… here, Sumo, good boy.”

“I don’t know, he’s smarter than you think.”

Sumo was staring into the pool from the side, but still seemed wary and clearly didn’t want to go in. Connor presumed that simply picking him up and putting him inside would scare him, and he could just run straight out again. He thought over it and… yes, he had an idea.

Without a second thought, he stepped inside the pool. The water was nice and cool, not too icy cold, and indeed was a good relief from the summer’s heat. He splashed around inside, ignoring Hank’s confusion.

“The fuck are you doing? You aren’t the damn dog!”

Perhaps it wasn’t the correct idea, he mused, stopping in the centre of the little pool. Perhaps—

Water splashed up into the air as Sumo leapt inside, barrelling over to Connor and nuzzling up to him. He chuckled and petted his head, telling him what a good boy he was.

“See, Hank? It worked. I thought I’d show him that it’s safe and fun in here.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright… you know I have to hose down both of you, now, don’t ya?”

Connor watched in dawning horror as Hank picked up the hose of the floor, and had no time to react before it was pointed straight at him. Within seconds he was soaked to the artificial bone, spluttering, hair soaking wet and dripping down his face.

“Hank!”

Ten minutes later, two very soggy individuals, Sumo and Connor, were led back inside with towels in tow. Sumo’s was draped over his back, already having shaken thoroughly outside (splashing water over Hank too in karmic retribution) and Connor had one around his shoulders. He was told to go straight to the bathroom to get changed so that he didn’t drip water from his downright soggy clothes throughout the house.

A fresh set of clothes were placed on the bathroom cabinet for him, and he dried off more with the towel before getting to work putting them on. This was a pair of cargo shorts and a white button up shirt patterned with black cats.

Once he was changed, he moved over to the mirror to try and dry his hair, which was a difficult task given how damp it was, flat and clinging to his head. He gave up after a minute or too, figuring that with this heat it wouldn’t be long before it dried naturally. Glancing across the mirror, he noticed a new post it note. This one had a drawing of a big dog and a cat on it. Hank must have made it. The dog wasn’t a Saint Bernard, instead it was taller and sleek, and if his scanning software could liken it to the most likely breed, it would be an Irish Wolfhound. The cat was black like those on his shirt, and had a little LED on the side of its head. He smiled, deciding he’d add a new post it note drawing later, and exited the bathroom.

He found Hank in the living room, trying his best to dry Sumo with yet another towel (the old one was discarded in a wet heap on the kitchen floor). Sumo wasn’t having it, and simply shook, sending the towel scattering onto the floor, splattering Hank with just a little more water. He looked a lot drier now, his fur beginning to get that damp fuzzy texture. The distinct smell of wet dog was beginning to fill the room.

“This was not how I expected my Wednesday afternoon to be goin’,” Hank grumbled, gathering up the discarded towels, placing them inside the washing machine.

“Agreed. But it was certainly… interesting.”

Hank looked up at Connor, chuckling at his flat wet hair, before nodding. “Yeah, it was certainly somethin’. How about now we sit the fuck down and watch some TV?”

Connor nodded, and went back to his room to retrieve his drawing stuff before joining Hank in the living room. He set out his new art supplies on the table, sitting down on the floor in front of the table.

He blinked in surprise as a cushion was tossed towards him, catching it easily, before looking up at the man who’d thrown it.

“Sit on this. Even if you are an android who finds kneeling on the floor comfortable, it’s makin’ my back fucking hurt just looking at you sitting there.”

Connor chuckled, placing the cushion down before sitting on top of it. “Thank you. It is more comfortable; it may help with my posture and improve my artwork.”

A moderate level of sound filled the room as Hank switched on the TV, finding the recording of the Detroit Gears game before settling back in his seat. He felt a wet nose sniffing his hand, and before he could tell him not to, a slightly damp Sumo had leapt onto the chair beside him. As Sumo laid down, plonking his head on his lap with a contented sigh, any complaint died on his lips, and he stroked the fuzzy soft dog behind his ears where he liked it.

This was nice, he mused, glancing from the dog on his lap, to Connor sitting on the floor, pencils and paper spread out across the table, starting work on a new drawing. The room buzzed with the sound of the TV and the quiet scratch of pencils against paper. A late summer’s afternoon, one where he felt content to just sit and relax. The high energy bustle of the day had died down and now it was time to rest. And sure, tomorrow this would be over, and he’d have to go back to the DPD, but for now he was content not to worry too much about that. All good things had to come to an end, after all, but that didn’t make them any less enjoyable. Everything was temporary, whether it be fun or hardship and suffering… But there was no point worrying about when things were good now. Everything being impermanent was a good fucking thing, if he said so himself. Because the hell they’d been through recently hadn’t lasted forever, and it’d brought them, in its own sick and twisted way, to where they were now.