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Detroit slowly but surely starts coming back to life a few weeks after the revolution. Marcus and the rest of Jericho, along with President Warren's changed opinion and new found support, manages to make changes to the laws and society as people have known it.
Connor has been watching all the developments from inside a cozy home on a small side-street, where one lieutenant lives with his dog. Most of his time is spent there, leaving his own apartment that the new CyberLife, with Marcus and North in charge, has started to provide for androids, empty. He knows that Marcus would’ve welcomed him into the world-changing group if he asked, but Connor had refrained from asking. He felt like he belonged elsewhere, in other places.
One of those places being DPD.
Fowler had let him stay at the force; Connor knows that it’s mostly because of the huge workload, the revolution having brought more crimes than ever before with it. He’s still thankful to him though, making sure to express it to the best of his abilities.
He’s still Hank’s partner, which makes something in his chest feel warm. He’s still relatively new to emotions, but he knows this is a good one. Especially when Hank grumbles about not wanting to have a partner, but the truth seeping through in the way he can’t hide his smile.
It’s a day in December, when they come back from their lunch break (ChickenFeed, despite Connor's arguments against it), that there’s a bouquet of roses standing on Hank’s desk.
“What the fuck is this,” Hank mutters from beside him, as he moves in front of Connor to look at the flowers now decorating his workplace. He scowls and throws his gaze to his co-workers, trying to find the culprit. “Which one of you fuckers did this?”
When no one comes with a confession, Connor feels like he should jump into the conversation. “There’s a card on it, Lieutenant.”
Hank swears under his breath, but still moves to read the card. He stills as his eyes take in the words. Connor notices that his heartbeat starts increasing as Hank lets out an “Oh”.
“What does it say?”
“Someone named Carolyn is asking me out,” Hank replies, his voice one of disbelief. Something inside of Connor jumps, and error popping up on his HUD (thirium error located). He quickly shuts it down.
“Who is Carolyn?” Connor finds himself asking. Hank shrugs.
“Hell if I know,” Hank grumbles. “It might still be one of the guys fucking with me.”
Instead of replying, Connor moves closer to the bouquet. He scans the brown paper that’s wrapped around the vibrant flowers, looking for fingerprints. He gets two matches quite quickly - one Ian Thorne, DOB 990202, employed at Detroit Flower Services and-
Carolyn Spencer. DOB 890803, employed as a secretary at the Detroit Police Department, in the Human Relations section.
“Oh,” Connor voices, and he can feel Hank’s gaze move from the flowers to him. It usually fills his form with warmth and makes the thirium inside of him pump slightly faster. This is no expectation.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Hank asks, figuring that Connor knows something.
“It’s Carolyn from Human Relations,” Connor answers, the image of her clear in his mind - they run into each other, at times, but not nearly enough for them to participate in anything more than polite small talk.
“Oh, the woman with the red hair?” Hank asks, and Connor nods, trying to ignore the way errors keep popping up in his vision.
(Thirium Pump Error, Temperature Increase Detected, Thirium Pump Error)
“Hm,” Hank lets out, before he moves the bouquet more to the right, to move it out of the way from his computer screen. “Let’s get to work, we have some reports to write, don't we?”
They do, Connor confirms, and he moves from standing next to Hank to sit at his own desk. Something about how the conversation ended makes him feel something akin to disbelief.
The flowers are visible from in the corner of his vision. Connor can’t focus.
The flowers are gone from Hank’s desk by the next day - Connor assumes that the lieutenant took them home, and his thoughts are confirmed when he comes by his house a few days later.
Hank has caught quite a nasty cold - “it was that bastard William that we caught yesterday,” Hank had said through the phone only about an hour before Connor stepped inside the well familiar house. “He coughed in my face yesterday during the integration, the nasty fucker” - and although caring for humans isn’t one of his primary functions, Connor wants to do something for his friend, if not only for the fact that Hank has done so much for him.
It takes a few tries to make the chicken soup correctly, as cooking is also a new phenomenon to him. But he’s quite happy with how the fourth try of the soup ends up, and he goes to give it to Hank with a smile on his face.
It’s when he’s passing through the living room towards Hank’s bedroom that he notices the roses sitting on the table in front of the couch. Connor feels his smile fade on his face, although there is no logical reason as to why he suddenly feels low. Shaking it off, ignoring the warnings showing up on his HUD (thirium pump error), he continues to move towards Hank's bedroom.
“If you get too close, you might go down with this shit,” Hank says when Connor opens the door to the bedroom, but he still reaches out to take the bowl of newly made chicken soup that the android had just spent the past few minutes of the afternoon preparing. Connor rolls his eyes.
“Androids can’t get sick, lieutenant.” Connor says, matter-of-factly. “At least not in the way that humans get sick. I guess there’s the risk of a possible virus that overwrites part of our codes though.”
Hank’s eyes narrow. “That sounds incredibly more dangerous than a cold.”
“I suppose it is,” Connor answers, organizing the pills and the tissues next to Hank’s bed. “If very unlucky, it could reset us, if I’m not wrong. Thankfully, there hasn’t been a virus that has managed to make any big damage, although people have tried.”
“Hm,” Hank says in acknowledgement, as he takes a spoonful of the chicken soup. He lets out a pleased moan as he savors the taste, and Connor can't help the familiar warmth that washes over him.
As Hank focuses his attention on the food in front of him, Connor figures that it’s a good time as any to move to the subject that had taken over most of his thought process as of late, for reasons he can't explain.
He has tried to blame it on his curiosity, but something about the excuse just doesn't sit right with him.
“You are taking good care of the roses,” Connor begins. It’s said as if in passing by, something that they shouldn’t put too much weight on. Hank stops the spoon a few inches away from his lips, and sends him weird look for a few quiet seconds, before sighing.
“Yeah, would feel like a real douche if i just threw them away after someone went through all that trouble,” he mumbles, before blowing on the soup, to make it slightly cooler. Connor is quite fascinated by the action, and he saves it in his memory storage for further research, deciding to focus on the conversation at hand.
“Did you call her?” he continues, hoping that it doesn’t come off as too straight-forward. He has a feeling the question is a bit too bold though, but he’s surprised to find that Hank doesn’t seem to react - it’s almost like he was expecting the question.
“I did, actually,” Hank answers and something in Connor’s chest falls when he hears the reply. “I thanked her for the flowers and told her I’d like to go to dinner with her. Figured I should give it a try, at least. I haven’t had anything serious since...” Hank trails off, and Connor doesn’t push it.
“When’s the date?”
Hank snickers. “Why all these questions?”
Connor finds himself lost for words for a few moments - because why did he want to know all the information about this? He doesn’t know. He can feel his LED spin in yellow. “I’m merely interested in the nature of romantic relationships, considering that I’ve yet to be in one.”
It’s an excuse, but if Hank notices it as one, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, and swallows another spoonful of warm soup. “It’s on Friday… if I can fucking leave my bed until then, that is.”
Friday. Three days from now. Connor nods, trying to look as natural as possible.
(Thirium pump error).
“Thanks for the soup,” Hank says after swallowing down the last of it. There’s a small smile on his lips as he puts down the bowl on his nightstand, and Connor feels the warmth warm swell in his chest once more. “It was really good.”
“I’m glad,” Connor voices and moves to grab the now empty porcelain. “I’ll go and take care of the dishes. Just yell if you need something.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a child,” Hank grumbles as he moves down under the warm blankets. Connor watches him softly before he turns around to walk back into the kitchen.
As he passes by the living room once more, he can’t help but throw a glare at the vase, with the red roses in them.
He doesn't understand the anger that starts in him when he's reminded of the vibrant flowers.
Connor is quickly learning that not being able to put words onto your emotions is really frustrating.
The days come and go; Hank gets better quickly, and he’s back at the precinct on Friday. There’s something unusual about him though - his BPM is slightly higher than usual, and he’s sweating. From Connor’s database, there’s a 83% chance that Hank’s feeling nervous.
Connor would try to help his partner feel better, if it wasn’t for his own feelings demanding his attention.
He finds himself craving for Hank’s touch - sometimes, when they look through evidence in the archives, standing close together, he makes their skin touch; not too obvious, so that Hank will get suspicious, but just enough to make his sensors pick up on the warmth from Hank’s body, just enough so that he can feel what it’s like to be close to someone physically.
He finds his thoughts trailing off to other things he’d like to touch - He’d like to run his fingers through Hank’s long hair, feel the skin on his belly and press his lips against Hank’s.
These… urges , have become more frequent lately. Connor doesn't understand it, and decides to put “research urges” onto his to-do list.
(Thirium Pump Error).
“Well, I’m clocking out,” Hank says suddenly, making Connor startle in his seat. He didn’t realize he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings.
“Okay, Lieutenant. I’ll see you on Monday,” Connor decides to say, figuring that he can stay in for a while longer today. It would serve as a way to make himself calm down from the thoughts of Hank’s lips against his own, and how his partner’s lips in his mind would make a trail of kisses down his jaw and neck. The journals and documents that needs to be filled in from their last case (a homicide case, a human torturing her android until there was no chance of saving it from deactivation) should be a good enough distraction.
“You staying?” Hank asks, and Connor looks away from the monitor to look at him. He looks bothered, and it seems like he’s hesitating.
“Yes,” Connor replies though, trying his best to seem like his normal self, hoping to calm Hank’s nerves. But Hank’s eyebrows only draw together further, and it seems like he made a miscalculation. “I have nowhere to be, after all.”
“Okay,” Hank answers, and he moves his blue eyes away from Connor’s frame to look down on the floor. “I could drive you to your apartment though, if you’d want to.”
“It’s fine,” Connor assures, although his mind tries to tell him otherwise (thirium pump error). “You shouldn’t be late for your date, after all.”
There’s a silence between them, one that only could be described as tense. Connor awaits Hank’s answer, and Hank seems to be lost in thought for a few moments.
But then he sighs. “You’re right. See you on Monday, Con.”
As Hank turns around to clock out and walk out of the precinct for the week, Connor can’t help but watch the glass doors close behind him.
When he throws the door up into his apartment an hour or so later, it doesn’t take long before the tears are falling from his face.
It’s so hard to stop. It’s almost impossible.
Connor can hear his sobs echo through the walls of his small apartment. It’s sounds raw and painful, just what he has been feeling himself ever since Hank left the precinct.
It had crashed down on him in the middle of him documenting the case. He had finally realized.
He was in love with Hank.
And Hank was interested in someone else.
As the tears fall down his face, Connor thinks he can finally understand why some turn to the bottles to drown their feelings.
Bottoms up.
“Oh my god, Anderson, is that a hickey? ”
Connor whips his head around to Gavin’s desk, the owner of the very surprised and slightly disgusted voice. Reed is looking at Hank, who just walked into the precinct, and Connor can immediately see what Reed is talking about. The hickey, purple and big on his neck, is incredibly visible, even as Hank tries to pull the fabric of his shirt up to hide it.
A burning is starting in his stomach, one that Connor immediately understands is because of yesterday’s new realization. He doesn’t like it.
“Shut the fuck up, Reed,” Hank sneers back. Gavin still looks at him with bug eyes, before his expression turns smug.
“Can’t believe you actually got laid, who the fuck would be crazy enough to do that?” Gavin continues with a mean laugh, and the burning in Connor’s stomach intensifies.
Hank doesn’t bother to reply, but he doesn’t try to hide the scowl on his face. He moves over to his desk and sits down, starting to organize the files from the case they worked on yesterday.
Connor takes a few seconds to clearly look at him, trying to get the hurt he feels under control as he places careful glances on the purple mark. Isn’t the mark supposed to be a good thing? It means that Hank and Carolyn are enjoying each other’s company! It shouldn’t be something bad, it shouldn’t be something that’s hurting him, he should be happy for him.
He looks away before Hank can feel his gaze on him, and goes back to work on the report from yesterday’s case.
They work in silence for a few moments. The atmosphere isn’t the same as usual, it feels more tense, more loaded.
“You aren't gonna say anything?” Hank voices just mere moments later, his voice a low rumble. Connor looks at him, his LED flickering between yellow and blue.
“About what, lieutenant?”
“About the scene caused by detective Dipshit over there,” Hank answers, not lifting his eyes from the monitor. The files are now put into a neat pile. “Thought you’d ask one of your personal questions. Seems like a time you’d do it.”
Connor blinks. His thirium pump beats irregularly in his chest. “It would be inappropriate to talk about that at work.”
Hank scoffs. “As if that’s ever fucking stopped you before.”
“According to several searches, it would be impolite of me to ask you questions of private nature, especially that of a developing romantic relationship,” Connor tries to explain, ignoring the warnings popping up in his field of view (thirium pump error). “As long as the relationship doesn’t hurt you physically or mentally, I don’t think it’s right for me to pry into private matters, such as your shared activities.”
Hank blinks at him, owlishly. For a few seconds, Connor wonders if Hank’s mind has stopped working, in the same way that Connor’s software sometimes does when he feels too many emotions at the same time, but Hank’s blank face is soon gone. He removes his eyes from Connor’s form and presses his lips into a thin line. “Alright then.”
Figuring that the conversation is over, Connor goes back to his monitor. No words are spoken between them until Fowler calls them into his office for a new case.
After especially rough cases, the ones that would affect Connor down to the very core of his programming, Hank and Connor would usually watch movies at Hank’s place. The kind of terrible cop-movies that usually would end with them both screaming at the inaccuracies and laughing at the corny script. It was a nice way to calm down and get level-headed again.
Connor really liked the fact that he more often than not got to rest his head on Hank’s chest during these hang-outs, his head moving up and down in the time of Hank’s inhales and exhales. It was comforting in a way that made his wires warm and his core ache for something more.
The first time it happened, Hank had tensed up, obviously surprised by the android’s sudden movements. He grumbled, but didn’t move Connor away from his body. The latter smiled when he realized that he could stay there, nuzzling closer to the warm body.
Today’s case had been one of those rough cases that affected Connor especially. Another human, was on the run after killing a completely innocent android family.
Two adults androids and three children models were now dead, because this one human - whose name apparently was Lily - thought she got to decide who are deserves to live and who gets to be free.
The crime scene was brutal, and the bodies were in some of the worst states Connor had seen so far. Most of the human officers couldn’t look at it for more than a few seconds, their eyes widening in horror of the scene in front of them whenever they saw the family.
Connor did as he usually did; he tried to put his emotions behind him and focus solely on the task at hand - it was how he was made after all, he should be able to do it without problems - but deviancy had changed him. Emotions were not only irrational - they were also loud and big and so incredibly overwhelming.
“You look like shit,” Hank voices when Connor comes out from the crime scene, and Connor knows that it’s the truth. He can feel how he almost feels faint, how he feels numb. He wishes the horrifying images he had just seen could be deleted from his hard-disk, but unfortunately they were needed for the investigation.
“The scene was… gruesome,” Connor says instead, coming to stand next to the Lieutenant. He can feel the older man’s eyes on him as he watches the other side of the road; this is a normal neighborhood, full of family houses and inhabited by normal and calm families. For this to happen here feels almost surreal.
“Tell me about it,” Hank mumbles, sipping on his coffee - black, two sugars - he’s holding in his hands. There’s a pregnant silence for a few seconds, before Hank clears his throat. “Wanna come over today?”
Connor’s thirium pump flutters at the invitation - their movie evenings had always been one of his absolute favorite things - and he’s about to accept before he remembers Carolyn.
Oh . He thinks. Oh , he thinks, because this probably means that he won’t be able to rest his head against Hank’s chest anymore. He remembers that he only will be in the way if he comes over; Hank is not interested in him in the same way Connor is. The chance of Connor accidentally doing or saying something that reveals his feelings is not really high, but it’s definitely not low enough either.
And he's not sure he has the control to keep a clear distance between them. He has been aching to touch Hank for days, after all.
He can't risk losing Hank forever just because he can't control his feelings. He just can't.
“Thank you for the invitation, Lieutenant, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time,” Connor says before he can change his mind. Something flashes by Hank’s face, something that Connor has learned to recognize as disappointment, but it’s gone before he can mention it.
“It’s okay, you probably have android stuff to do anyway,” Hank answers before his lips once again close over the rim of the mug. Connor doesn’t, actually, have any android things to do. In fact, he has no plans after the work day is over.
Connor can tell by the way that Hank has tensed up that he’s aware as well, but he doesn’t mention it again.
The newfound time Connor has now that he doesn’t spend most of the days at Hank’s place is hard to put to use.
He has tried to fill the time with a lot of things - studying human behavior (a subject Connor has become more interested in after he deviated), walking the streets of Detroit, talking with Josh or Simon or going through lists of “the top 100 books you should read before you die” (he’s on number 9 now); he reads them all in paperback, enjoying the feel of the piece of literature in his hands.
But when he puts the book away or when he comes back to his apartment after a long walk, he doesn’t feel satisfied. He finds himself wanting to take the familiar route back to Hank’s place, to sit next to him on the couch, petting Sumo’s warm fur. Laughing, teasing and discuss various subjects.
It’s difficult to go against his will sometimes; Connor has found that want is one of the strongest emotions he can feel. It makes him understand why some humans are selfish enough to hurt people to get what they want.
It makes him understand the deviants that he only a few months ago was hunting. The want - to live, to experience and to love and be loved in return - was stronger than a piece of programming ever could be.
But Connor promised that he wouldn’t be one of those people. No matter how much he wants to be with Hank, as his friend or maybe even as something more, he refuses to intervene between Hank and Carolyn. Hank is probably happy with her. Hank deserves to be happy with her. And Connor shouldn’t get in between, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how many tears he sheds at night.
Hank’s happiness matters the most. He has been unhappy for far too long. He deserves to be happy.
Even if it isn't with him.
And also, Connor wouldn't be surprised if Hank doesn't see him as a potential romantic partner; sure, there had been lingering touches and glances from Hank. But just a few months ago, when they met, Hank had been anti-android. Connor had been only a machine, with no rights whatsoever. Hank's opinions are obviously different now though, and if there’s one thing Connor’s sure of, it’s that Hank does enjoy his company. But he figures that Hank only spends time with him as a friend - something that he, of course, also is very happy about.
Even if he craves for more.
A part of him still hopes and wishes that Hank wouldn’t find the idea of him as a romantic partner all too unpleasing, though, but if he did, could he really blame him?
Because he’s not human. He might have deviated, but he's still a machine, with programming and wires, and unlike a human in everything else except for appearance.
Is he even alive? Connor believes he is. If all the emotions inside of him and the way they conflict isn't what being alive is, Connor couldn’t phantom whatever it could be.
He tries not to think about Hank’s hands on his skin when he lies down in his bed that evening, tries not to think about how his lips would feel kissing down his neck. He tells himself that it’s wrong, when he moves his hand down to touch himself. He regrets it when he comes onto the sheets, and he falls into stasis with a heavy mind.
Work keeps going, just as it always has. New cases come in, some more brutal than others and most of them end up getting solved. You could think it was the same as it had always been if not for the fact that there’s something tense between Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Connor.
Because outside of work, everything is definitely not as it always has been.
Connor tries to avoid Hank to the best of his abilities. He tries to come up with excuses whenever Hank invites him to something (he usually says he has plans or that he’s meeting up with Markus and company) but it gets harder and harder every time.
He almost craves to be next to Hank and to spend time with him. It pains him not to be able to do so. And a part of him is scared that Hank will give up on him after a while; that he'll let their friendship turn into something unknown.
He can only imagine how it must feel to be rejected all the time. Connor hates himself for doing it, over and over again.
Despite that though, Hank keeps asking. He had thought that all his very bad excuses would be enough for the lieutenant to stop trying, something that kept Connor’s mind running at night.
But one day, Connor accepts one of Hank's invites. He blames it on the way his mind has been swimming with clashing thoughts lately, with thoughts he shouldn't be thinking and the guilt that's almost eating him up inside. But the feeling soothes slightly in his chest as he sees Hank looks of surprise turn into one of full-fledged delight, the big grin on his lips reaching his eyes.
After work is done, they're in Hank's old car, going down the familiar road back to Hank's house, and Connor can feel his thirium pump beat rapidly in his chest. He wants nothing more than to be close to Hank, and he can feel himself grin as he looks out the window, at familiar houses and streets.
The small talk isn't as easy as it was before - the past few months tense atmosphere has made the awkward silences, that never occured a few months ago, a returning theme. But they still tease each other like before, something that makes the warmth he associates with Hank bloom in his chest. And if the light in Hank's eyes is any indicator, he thinks Hank might appreciate the familiar back and forth as well.
Arriving at Hank's small house, they open the door to get Sumo. The Saint Bernard is over Connor the moment he spots him, and Connor laughs happily as Sumo licks him in the face.
After a few minutes of petting and cuddling the big dog, that Connor has missed almost as much as he has missed Hank, the lieutenant tells Sumo to get off of him before latching the dog onto the lease. There's a soft smile on his lips as he closes the door, a sight that makes something that Connor would describe as love blossom in his chest.
The dog park they used to visit frequently isn't far, about 10 minutes on foot. Sumo walks around happily, nosing at various places along the way. Connor spends the entire walk trying not to give in to the want to hold Hank's hand.
“Geez, you'd think he never sees the outside considering how happy he gets every time I take him here,” Hank voices a few minutes later, when both him and Connor have taken a seat on a bench in the dog park. Sumo is running around happily, overjoyed to be at his favorite park. They both know that he will be tired in a few minutes, so they let him be.
“Maybe you should look into some more activities for him,” Connor decides to chime in, already having opened up quite a few websites to look for information. “It does look like Sumo would enjoy being more active, so I could-”
“It’s fine, Connor,” Hank interrupts, and there’s a small, pleased smile on his face. “He’s old now. He deserves to rest up. But I’ll try to take him here more.”
“Got it,” Connor replies, and turns his gaze from Hank to the big dog running around in the grass.
A small silence grows between them - a silence that only meer weeks ago was something usual, but that now feels uncomfortable the longer it grows. Hank clears his throat.
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind coming along next time?” Hank asks, voice low and uncertain. “To the park, I mean.”
“I’d love to,” Connor begins, a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t felt in weeks. “I love to hang out with you and Sumo.”
“You do?” Hank turns around to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You haven’t been around much lately.”
Connor inhales, something he doesn’t really need to function - he can’t explain why he did it; a part of him believes it’s because he had hoped it somehow would’ve managed to calm his thirium pump that's starting to beat faster at the question. “I know. But it’s not because of you or Sumo.”
Hank’s eyebrow furrows in confusion, and maybe even frustration. “Then what’s the reason?”
And Connor can’t help but think about everything - about how he’s doing this to avoid ruining Hank’s new relationship, Hank's well deserved happiness and how hard it is to not lean his head against Hank’s shoulder and pull him close to him. To feel his skin against his and his arms around him. He tries his best to not be pulled towards him, but his lips look so soft and Connor has wondered for so long how they would feel against his and before he knows it they’re closer than they’ve ever been before and there’s thirium pump warning nothing Connor wouldn’t give to be able to actually find out for real if his daydreams live up to the real thing.
A hopeful and maybe naive part of him thinks that Hank wouldn’t mind when he sees his pupils dilate as he realizes what’s happening, a part of him that feels proud when he sees the increase of his BPM.
“Connor, I-” Hank begins, but the familiar melody of Hank's ringtone starts playing from his pocket, and the moment is broken. Hank sighs, his eyes leaving Connor’s, and the latter feels the warmth leave him. Connor leans back in his seat, feeling something heavy grow in his stomach.
“Hello?” Hank replies. “Hi, babe.”
Babe . Oh.
Right. Carolyn.
“Right now? I'm actually hanging out with Connor right now-” Hank continues. “Did I? I have no memory of that.”
Connor tunes the conversation out, putting it as background noise. His processors are running haywire inside of him, and he can't help but feel nauseous.
He was about to kiss him. He was about to fucking ruin this.
Hank is happy. Hank is in a relationship and he is happy, and Connor was about to ruin everything for his own selfish reasons.
He feels sick. He feels the same weight, the same guilt in his chest as he has been feeling for weeks now. But this time, it feels so much worse.
“Of course I want to be with you, it's just-” Hank's voice is suddenly in focus again as he talks into the phone. And before Connor can think it through, his programming takes over. He calls a cab at the same time he starts speaking.
“It's fine, Lieutenant.” Connor pretends not to notice the way Hank tenses at the use of his title. His voice is natural and emotionless, a vivid contrast to the emotions raging inside of him, a vivid contrast to the moment between them before the call. “It's about time I'd get home anyway.”
Connor begins to stand up, dusting himself off. Sumo, now exhausted after running laps around the park, has made his way over to the bench Hank and Connor had been sitting on, and the android gives Sumo a good pet before he turns to leave.
“Hey, Con-”
Figuring that Hank’s about to argue with his decision to leave (And he can't stay because he's the worst friend, he's the worst ), Connor simply turns around and sends a very polite, very fake smile his way. “See you at the precinct tomorrow, Lieutenant.”
And with that Connor leaves the dog park and enters the self-driving cab that's stopped on the sidewalk, climbing in and waiting for it to move, away from Hank and Sumo and everything he loves, before he lets the tears fall.
When Connor gets back to the precinct the next day - after spending the entire morning trying to calm his nerves, something that he still isn't good at - he’s both surprised, and slightly disappointed, to find they both go back to the usual, without talking about what happened the day before, in the dog park.
But Connor’s heart feels heavier in his chest now than before. Hank’s smile seems more strained, his eyes tired and sad.
Both act like they don't notice, and the days pass by slowly.
May comes around, and with it, the warmth of spring. The days are long and sunny, and the entire crew at the DPD seems to be in a cheery spirit. Even Gavin seems less like an asshole some days.
And Connor thought that the change of season would have the same effect on Hank as it did on everyone else, but Connor can see that the lieutenant only gets more and more stressed as the days pass by.
He doesn’t smell of alcohol as often anymore - which Connor is thankful for, glad that his constant reminders and maybe even Hank's new relationship seems to have helped the lieutenant get his bad habits under control - but one of those days in May, Hank doesn’t arrive until after lunch. Connor doesn’t need to analyze him to know that there’s alcohol in his blood, and Hank throws him a glance over the desk as he sits down, a glance that Connor can’t quite place.
They don’t talk that much that day - Connor tries, but Hank seems tired and not in the mood to chat, so he stops trying. He can still feel Hank’s gaze on him from time to time, heavier than it has been in a long time.
The weight of it follows Connor home when he leaves the precinct around five, and he is honestly glad he managed to make it home before his emotional sensitivity level: critical protocols activated, causing the tears to fall down his face. Connor falls into stasis with still wet trails of tears on his cheeks.
A few days later, Connor runs into a familiar face when he’s looking for some new clothes down at the mall (he remembered that Hank had promised to take him there, but it’s not like Connor can ask him now, not when he has someone else, not when all Connor wants to do is take him into the changing room and kiss him senseless). The red, wild hair frames her face in a way that, objectively, is very beautiful, and Connor finds himself understanding all the hushed, admiring whispers going around about her at the precinct.
They’ve never really had a conversation - the most they’ve done is exchange small polite greetings when their paths meet back at the precinct - but she recognizes him, and her face lights up in excitement.
“Connor, hey!” Her voice is as light as it always has been, and Connor hates himself for feeling annoyed at her.
He’s the one that’s in the wrong, he’s the one whose in love with his best friend, her boyfriend, it’s his fault-
“Hello, Carolyn,” he greets, careful to choose the most polite voice option he has. Someone who has known him for a while might notice the difference between protocol and his own way of speaking, he's sure Hank would, but he’s also quite sure that Carolyn has no way of knowing.
The big smile that appears on her face is quite telling of her innocence. “How are you?”
“I’m,” devastated, annoyed, confused, lost, “good, what about you?”
“Oh, I’m better than ever!” She says, and a lock of her red hair falls in front of her eyes as she speaks. “Ever since me and Hank started dating, life has been amazing.”
“That’s great,” Connor says, happy that his voice remains natural despite the emotional turmoil inside of him.
“We actually have a date tonight, and do you know what? I’m going to ask him to marry me!” She says, the words falling from her pink glossy lips, as if it was just mere words, and not a sentence that makes Connor’s entire world fall apart in front of his eyes.
His heart hurts. His mind is racing and he’s sure that Carolyn is well aware of his LED, pulsing in crimson.
“Oh,” is all he can offer in reply, his soul too crushed to muster any proper words to leave his lips.
“I’m so nervous about his answer though!” Carolyn goes on, choosing to ignore the android’s lack of interest and the red light by his forehead. “Which is why I’m happy to see you today! Since you’re one of his closest friends, Connor, do you think he would accept my proposal?”
Think ? How is he supposed to think when it feels like he’s going to deactivate just from the pain inside of him?
His programming is running in the background though - he is a state-of-the-art android after all, designed to help the police force solve cases - and this question is one he can answer, probability wise.
“Yes,” Connor replies, and he realizes when he hears his own voice that the protocol has turned off. His voice sounds raw, much unlike the voice that had been programmed to cover up his every emotion earlier. Carolyn notices as well, tensing as she hears his voice.
She sends him a small smile, but it no longer reaches her eyes. “That’s good. Let’s hope you’re right.”
Carolyn walks past him, and Connor figures that the conversation is over. He’s just about to continue into the mall and away from everything that has happened these past few minutes, when he hears her voice from behind him again. “Let’s go on a double date sometime, okay?”
Connor doesn’t reply. What can he say when the only person he can think of dating is the one who, in a couple of hours, most likely will have another person by his side forever?
The next day, Connor calls Fowler early in the morning. He tells him that he doesn’t feel well and that he's taking the week off. His boss sounds confused at first, no doubt because of the fact that Connor hadn’t really showed any sign of illness in the months he's known him so far, before he had given the green light.
“I guess everything that happened on November 11th is finally catching up with you, huh?” His rough voice says through the phone. Despite it being far from the truth, Connor can’t help but let him believe it - it’s easier than trying to explain what’s actually going on inside his head. “Take care, Connor.”
After the call, he spends a few more minutes in his bed, just staring up at his ceiling. He wonders if it’s stupid of him to do this, if it’s stupid of him to take it this far, but he can’t bare himself to leave his apartment. Going to work would mean seeing Hank, and seeing Hank would mean that he also would see the golden ring that most likely has found a new home on his finger. Forever reminding Connor of what could’ve been.
The thought hurts too much. He pushes it away, hides it behind information about his system and diagnostics.
He does eventually leave the comfort of his bed, moving over to sit on the sofa. He figures that he can watch some television - learning about human behavior was still, after all these months, fascinating.
In the middle of a part about what happens if a human child doesn’t feel a connection to their mother, a notification pops up in front of his field of view. The sight of it, and the sight of the sender, makes his heart beat loudly in his chest.
[10:31] Hank: I thought androids couldn’t get sick
“Shit,” Connor mumbles to himself. He had told him that, hadn’t he?
[10:32] RK800: Yeah.
He waits nervously for Hank’s reply, and he startles when the notification pops up almost immediately.
[10:32] Hank: What’s wrong then?
[10:33] RK800: I just don’t feel well
[10:34] Hank: Something to worry about? You aren’t going to shut down?
Connor finds himself laughing, but it’s void of any humor. The guilt that’s tearing him apart from the inside makes him almost wish for a shut-down.
[10:35] RK800: No, I’m not.
[10:36] Hank: Want to talk about it?
Connor sighs, hating the way the warmth wells up in his chest. Hating the way his eyes burn as the saline solution for his tears starts to push against his eye components. He tries his best to blink away the tears and tries to get his programming to stop the process, without any luck.
[10:37] RK800: No
The dots indicating that Hank is typing is moving steadily for about a minute, before it disappears. Connor watches nervously as the message finally appears.
[10:39] Hank: Alright
Figuring that’s the end of the conversation, he closes down the application and turns his head back to the television, trying to watch through blurry eyes.
Later that night, another notification pops up on Connor’s HUD.
[6:23 PM] Hank: Sumo misses you
Connor smiles as he reads the text. He had since long learned that that meant that Hank missed him, more than his dog. Hank’s sense of pride made things complicated, his emotions hard to spell out.
But Connor was well aware of this.
The warmth, that he now could recognize as love, blossomed in his chest, for the first time in what felt like forever. The feeling made tears well up in his eyes once, and a warning pop up in his field of view - he was soon going to be completely out of saline solution, which was quite logical given just how many tears he had cried these past few hours. For someone who was developed to not feel any emotions, he sure has a lot of them. He makes a mental note to purchase more, as he sends a reply to Hank.
He can't help the small smile that appears on his lips as he presses send.
[6:27 PM] Connor: Tell him I miss him too.
The texts keeps coming after that. The thing is though, that Hank has never been that much of a texter, as far as Connor knows. Or maybe, his earlier information was not accurate, because of the fact that they used to talk and hang out pretty much daily before Connor realized his own misplaced feelings. That’s the reason Connor finds himself surprised to find texts from Hank follow him throughout his sick leave.
[8:32 AM] Hank: Reed’s real annoying today
[11:12 AM] Hank: Working with Nines when you aren’t here
[2:49 PM] Hank: The scene was gruesome
[3:21 PM] Hank: Photo Attatched. Bought Sumo a new toy
[8:12 PM] Hank: Connor?
[10:49 PM] Hank: I miss you
Connor doesn’t reply to them all, somehow feeling too drained to be able too. The thought of the gold ring glittering in the light from Hank’s bedroom lamp is always on his mind, the realization of Carolyn most likely resting her head on Hank’s broad chest making it feel like the weight inside of him suddenly weighs much more.
As he reads Hank’s final text, he can feel the burning start behind his eyes. As the saline solution still is completely used up, it does nothing more than to make the warning appear once more.
Feeling drained on all energy, Connor activates his stasis protocol, before he can think too much about it.
The next day, on the fifth day of his sick leave, Connor leaves stasis because of the rapid and hard banging on his door. His internal clock tells him that it’s a quarter past nine in the morning, and he finds himself surprised to have been in stasis for so long.
As he moves to stand up from the bed, the warning about the saline solution pops up in his HUD again. He moves to grab a robe from the wardrobe (something he had bought only because it was cozy and soft) as he closes the warning and heads out into his hall.
The moment he opens the door, he finds himself regretting it.
Hank looks worried. His BPM is 103 and he’s sweating sightly.
“Connor, are you alright?” Hank asks, his voice full of genuine concern. Connor can’t find any words, too stunned at the sudden visit that he’s rented speechless. He nods and Hank heaves a sigh of relief.
“Thank god,” he mumbles slowly, moving his hands into the pocket of his coat. The rain is falling softly from the grey sky, and Connor notices how the top of Hank’s silver hair is slightly wet. “You haven’t replied in almost 12 hours. Thought something had happened to you.”
“I’m fine,” Connor says, glad that he finally found his voice. It sounds weak though, and more like a question than anything else. By the sudden sharpness in Hank’s blue eyes, he can tell that he noticed as well.
“So you coming to work today or?” Hank asks, his gaze hard and steady on Connor’s face. He can feel the same nervousness that has followed him for months creep up inside him. It makes him want to curl his toes and focus his view on the wooden flooring.
“No,” Connor answers, doing his best to keep eye-contact with the lieutenant. When he notices Hank heave a sigh though, he blinks and turn his gaze downwards, staring at his own feet.
“What’s going on, Connor?” Hank voices, the concern in his voice replaced with something akin to annoyance. It makes Connor’s thirium pump beat harder, the sudden anxiety inside of him strong enough to swallow him whole.
“I just need some time for myself,” He replies after thinking of the right words to say. “It was kind of you to come and check on me, but you should go back to the statio-”
“No.” Hank grumbles suddenly, stepping inside the apartment completely. Connor takes a few steps back instinctively, away from the door and the warmth of Hank’s body. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I just told you, I need some ti-”
“Bullshit,” Hank interrupts, and his voice is loud and angry. “These past few months you’ve drifted away from me. You don’t talk to me as much as you used to and lately you can barely even look at me. And then when I arrive to the fucking station on Monday - on time, I’ll let you fucking know - Fowler tells me that you took the week off.”
Connor watches, paralyzed, as Hank speaks. His thirium pump is beating, bang bang bang bang.
Thirium Pump Error.
“You used to tell me when something was bothering you, Con. You used to tell me when you didn’t feel well. I thought-” Hank takes a deep breath, his stunning blue eyes leaving Connor’s frame to look to the wall on the right. “I thought you fucking trusted me? I thought we were friends?”
“We’re friends!” Connor exclaims.
“Then why don’t you fucking talk to me?” Hank’s voice is still loud, but the anger is replaced with something else. It’s an emotion that takes a while for Connor to place, but once he does, it’s clear as day; it’s sadness. “I want to help you, but I can’t help you when you avoid me. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something that offended you? Did I-”
“It wasn’t you,” Connor says, his voice quiet and wavering. Hank scoffs.
“Do you really think I believe that?” Hank laughs, but it’s void of any real happiness and humor. “You can barely even look at me anymore. You could've just told me if you didn't want to spend time with m-”
“It’s because of me, Hank!” Connor suddenly snaps, like a rubber band drawn too tightly, and Hank startles at the sudden edge in the android’s voice. “It’s because of the fact that I can’t control what I feel when I’m with you! Fuck. Do you have any idea how it feels to see you so happy with Carolyn, when I’m in love with you?”
Hank draws in a sharp breath. The truth is out.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Hank. But I couldn’t take it anymore. And I feel like it’s the right thing to do, because I don’t want to hurt you either.” Connor’s voice is wavering. If there was any saline solution left for his tears, he’s quite sure they would be slipping down his cheeks now. “Carolyn proposed to you last week, right? I’m happy for you. I really am. But I’m quite sure my presence would only cause problems in your relationship. I wouldn’t be able to be as happy for you as you deserve.”
There’s a heavy silence in between them.
“Con…” Hank begins.
“You should leave,” Connor finds himself saying, trying to play it off as the truth, even though the crimson on his temple is a clear indication of the opposite.
He waits for the door to open. He waits for Hank to walk out of his life forever. He waits for the last crumbling pieces of his existence to fall down, until all that’s left is a hole, big enough to never be filled again.
What he doesn’t expect is for Hank’s footsteps to come closer to him, and for the man’s large arms to encircle his form. Hank presses his face down into Connor’s shoulder, holding him close to his own body.
Connor can feel heat rising to his cheeks. He almost believes that this is just another dream, another pre-construction. The warm breath on his exposed neck tells him otherwise though.
“I didn’t accept,” Hank mumbles into his shoulder, his lips brushing against Connor’s skin as he speaks. “The proposal, I mean. I didn’t accept.”
Connor lets out a breath he doesn’t need. “Why?”
“Because she wants something I can’t give her. Carolyn wants a family, you know? A family includes kids. And I can’t, fuck. I can’t go through that again.”
Connor nods, leaning against Hank’s body.
“And also because I’m crazy about someone else.”
“Who is it?” Connor asks, although he thinks he might’ve figured it out already, if the way that Hank’s pressing kisses onto the junction of his neck and shoulder is anything to go buy. His thirium pump is making itself known by being louder, he's quite sure Hank can hear the fans inside of him going at it, but Connor can’t bring himself to care, the warm touch of Hank’s lips successfully dissolving every thought in his brain.
“I’ll tell you about him. He’s an android, a prototype. His model number is RK800. He’s real handsome, pure perfection, and I guess Cyberlife had some braincells, at least when they made him.” Hank’s arms wrap tighter around him, and Connor melts. “He loves dogs. He has a smart mouth. He always tells me that I need to eat healthier and tries to change the food I eat. Usually I would throw more of a fit than what I do, but the feelings I have for him makes it hard to stay annoyed.”
Connor lets out a sob, as he leans into Hank's touch.
“He asks a lot of personal questions, until a few months ago when he suddenly stopped. We usually watch movies together. He likes to make fun of them, just like I do. He likes to buy random knick-knacks to fill his apartment with. He has the worst fucking humor, but I can’t help but laugh at his dry jokes anyway. My home didn’t feel as empty when he was around. And I didn’t realize it until he was gone. And I guess I also didn’t realize what I wanted was right in front of me all this time. ”
Connor turns around in Hank's embrace, moving to crash their lips together. It’s Connors first kiss, and despite lacking any experience whatsoever, Hank moves against him in a way that makes the wires in side of him tingle.
As soon as they pull away, Connor moves to hide his face in Hank’s chest. He feels the lieutenant's arms tighten around him as his face rests against his shoulder. Connor can feel Hank’s frame rumble as he laughs in happiness.
“I love you,” Connor whispers, the three words that he’s been trying to hide for months now finally slipping out.
“I love you too, you damn android,” Hank says, the choice of words that in their early relationship would’ve been meant as an insult, has no bite in them now; instead, they're said with adoration. There’s warmth spreading inside of Connor, as he feels Hank’s lips stretch into a grin.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” Connor lets out, leaning his own head against Hank’s steady frame. He takes in the sensation of Hank’s warm, wonderful body against him, closing all of his bakground processes to focus on the moment.
“It’s a’right,” Hank mumbles, nuzzling his face against the nape of Connor’s neck. The latter lets out a small laugh at the sensation of Hank's beard against his skin. “It ended up well in the end, and that’s what matters.”
“Yeah,” Connor agrees, before a comfortable silence falls over them both again.
Connor hasn’t felt this calm in months. The weight that has been over his chest for the past few months is gone, replaced with something fluttery and soft. He feels lightheaded and he’s certain that the only thing keeping him upright is Hank’s body that he’s leaning against.
The moment is broken when Hank pulls away from the embrace, but only so he can look Connor in the eyes. The grin on his lips is wide, the gap between his teeth visible. Connor feel like he’s going to melt just from the sight of it. He has missed seeing Hank’s smile so much.
“I need to get back to the precinct, or Fowler will have my fucking ass,” Hank says, moving forward to press a small peck to Connor’s lips. “But there’s a movie I wanted to watch with you, if you’re free this evening.”
“I’d love to,” Connor answers after a beat, taking in Hank’s entire appearance. His blue eyes are vivid and bright, his grin blinding. His heart-rate is elevated, his pupils dilated, and the fact that it’s because of him makes Connor want to soar.
“I’ll see you then,” Hank mumbles, before pressing a long closed-mouth kiss to Connor’s soft lips. It’s simple, but at the same time everything and more.
As Connor closes the door behind Hank a few moments later, he can’t help but feel the smile grow on his lips. For the first time in months, the wide pull of his lips is real.
And a couple of hours later, he will be sitting next to Hank on the couch, his head resting against his boyfriend's chest.
As if they had never been apart.