Good Neighbors

Chapter 1 - Occupied

Hank grunted (more out of annoyance than exertion) as he threw a shovelful of snow over his shoulder. "Twenty fucking thirty-nine," he muttered to himself. "We've made self-aware sentient androids but haven't invented a better way to shovel snow off of our own goddamn sidewalks. The fuck is this world I'm living in?" He straightened to stretch his sore back, hissing as it gave a small 'pop.' "I'm getting too old for this shit…" As he took a breath and dug his shovel back into the soft snow, he heard a car pull up behind him. Eyes darting to the door he had stupidly left ajar, he turned abruptly and attempted to shout but it was too late; Sumo came bursting out the door, running every which way, sending Hank's neat piles of snow right back into the walkway as he launched himself at the new arrival.

"For fuck's sake, Sumo!" Hank yelled as he threw down the shovel.

"You left the door open."

He sent Connor a withering glare. "Yeah, I had no idea. Thanks a lot, Captain Obvious."

"Actually, my name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife."

Hank felt himself cracking a smile at the playful glint in his partner's eyes, despite the petty desire to stay angry. It was difficult to be mad when Connor started getting sassy, if only because it was such a welcome difference from his mechanical coldness from when they had first met. Deviancy suited him. "Oh, haha. Very funny. Go be a smart-ass inside before your damn bio-components freeze up or whatever. Take Sumo with you."

"It would be need to be at least 20 degrees colder for my bio-components to freeze, Hank," the android informed him. A small frown formed on his face. "Why are you shovelling anyway? I told you I could do it when I got back."

Hank's pride kept him from outright saying that he was doing this particular chore because he felt guilty that Connor did almost all the others including cooking (for just him since the android didn't eat) and cleaning just about every damn corner of the house without being asked so he simply said, "Because I was home and you were at the office."

Connor took a step toward him, hand outstretched for the shovel. "I'm home now. I'll take over."

Holding the shovel at arm's length so the android couldn't reach, Hank let out a huff. "Connor, it's fine. I'll do it. Just go inside and get warm."

His partner gave him a concerned look. "All right," he conceded. "I'll have the files ready when you're finished. C'mon, Sumo."

Right, Hank groused internally as he watched the android and dog duo disappear into the doorway. The files.

As the holidays had come and gone, the android liberation front had changed drastically. A sense of community had began to bloom, especially when Markus himself had led a huge group of android carollers all around the city on Christmas Eve. Connor had been in that crowd somewhere; Hank got a real kick out of hearing him humming "Let It Snow" on Christmas morning.

He was pretty sure that the explosion of tinsel and lights that decorated nearly every corner of Detroit had been the work of androids as well. He couldn't really blame them for going a bit overboard; it was their first real Christmas, after all.

But along with the festivities came a sense of loss for those who were not present. Hank was all too familiar with this feeling and usually attempted to drown it with alcohol. This year he had put more effort into enjoying the holiday, more for Connor's sake than his own. He was was a hardass, sure, but he wasn't a complete asshole. He wasn't going to ruin Christmas for others, especially not his partner.

And so, with the buzz of liberation, love, and loss swirling in the cold winter air, the missing persons reports had flooded into the DPD. It happened every year around the holiday season, but this year, for obvious reasons, the numbers were overwhelming. He and Connor had been tasked with cross-referencing the police files with whatever information Markus had in order to narrow down those who were actually missing, those who were recently found in Jericho, or those who were deceased. It sounded as fun to Hank as an evening with Gavin Reed.

With a sigh and only half of the sidewalk done, he stuck his shovel upright in a patch of still-thick snow and shuffled back inside. Before he could even get his wet boots off, Connor was at his side offering a mug of hot chocolate. "Thanks." He walked over to the couch before taking a sip, but when he did he immediately sent a grin at the android who was trying entirely too hard to hide a smile of his own. "You spiking my drinks now, Connor?"

"I may have added a little bit of rum."

"The fucking world must be ending," Hank chuckled. "What happened to your constant lecturing about how I consume way more alcohol than I should?"

"I made sure to only mix in an appropriate amount for your liver's current state. The goal is to warm you up, not get you drunk."

Hank raised his mug in appreciation and took a long sip as Connor sat down beside him. "I don't buy rum," he stated. He couldn't even imagine his partner going out of his way to buy him something bad for his health. That would go far beyond deviancy; it would be a flat out malfunction. "Where'd it come from?"

"Markus," Connor replied. "He told me to give it to you as a thank you gift for sorting through these files with me."

"He didn't need to do that," Hank replied, a slight feeling of guilt settling in his gut. He was just doing his job and honestly, Markus was helping them more than they were helping him. This was a task given by the DPD, after all.

As if reading his thoughts, Connor tilted his head slightly and said, "But he wanted to. Isn't it customary to show gratitude by giving gifts?"

"It is," Hank confirmed slowly. "But I mean, like you always say, I don't need more alcohol."

The android's face fell into a confused frown. "I don't understand. I accepted and delivered the rum to you despite knowing it's not really beneficial for your health because I believed it was a nice gesture that you would appreciate. But maybe I'm mistaken? Would you like me to tell Markus not to do such things in the future?"

"No, no. That's not what I meant," Hank replied with a sigh. He could already tell he was going to need to be more honest with Connor than he was comfortable with. "I just meant," he began, voice growing soft, "I don't really think I'm the kind of person that deserves gifts from people, Connor."

A painfully innocent stare was aimed directly at him, somehow making him feel even worse. Connor's LED flashed yellow for a brief moment before returning back to a placid blue. "Your vitals didn't give any signs that you were lying and yet your statement isn't true at all, Hank. Either you're a master manipulator or-"

Hank tore his gaze from the android, but not before he caught a glimpse of his LED flashing red.

"...Or you really believe what you said," Connor finished with a frown.

Hank slowly took a long drink from his mug. There were so many things his young friend didn't understand, and though on most occasions he was willing to begrudgingly explain what he could, there were some things, like the extent of his self-loathing, that he just didn't want to discuss. When Connor moved in with him, he had made a promise to himself to do right by his partner, to be the best example he could be despite his personal baggage, to be the guide that Connor needed as he discovered the nuances of his newfound emotions.

But Hank couldn't deny that he was a damaged person. Looking into Connor's face always brought the slight fear in his heart that he would somehow corrupt him with the darkness that lurked deep inside his mind, accidentally expose him to the monster that reared its ugly head in the silence of the night, gnawing at his bones until he was certain he had died and fallen into the deepest pits of Hell. He could never forgive himself if he let Connor become its prey. In Hank's heart he truly believed that Connor was just too pure and good to be subjected to the true pains of being human.

With no answer for his partner, Hank stared straight ahead towards the fireplace at the four stockings strung across the top. They had yet to remove them, despite the end of the holidays. Connor had insisted on putting one up for Cole. Hank hadn't had the heart to put anything inside his son's (it had been hard to even look at it at first), but the android had positively stuffed it full of candy and little toys. Hank remembered the gratitude he felt as Connor had gently put his hand on his shoulder when he felt tears slowly fall at the sight on Christmas morning.

His own stocking had been filled with socks, a bottle of vitamins, and a few ties. Sumo's had contained four rather large bully sticks. It had taken him a lot of thinking to figure out what to put in Connor's, but in the end, he decided to put in a new beanie, a roll of quarters, a Fidget Spinner and a Fidget Cube. The last of the two had been in his possession for over 20 years, given to him by his old college buddies. Connor was delighted.

"Hank," the android called, his voice softly cutting through the older man's thoughts. "I don't know how much this will mean to you coming from me but I happen to think you deserve to be happy just like everyone else." Connor paused as if choosing his words carefully before continuing, "If not more so. I know I'm not always easy to deal with and that I still have a lot to learn about many things, but what I do know is that despite having gone through many personal traumas, you've still accepted me into your home and treat me like you would your own son. You're an excellent father figure. The best I could ever ask for."

Despite himself, Hank felt a small smile form on his face as he hurriedly wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at Connor just yet, but he managed a short laugh and whispered, knowing the android heard him clearly: "It means the world to me, Son. Thank you."

That night, as Hank sleepily made to close the front curtains after bidding Connor good night, he noticed that for the first time in about five years, the porch light of the house to the left of his was turned on. Curiosity and exhaustion fought for dominance over him, exhaustion winning out easily as he yawned and walked towards his bedroom.

He'd save his curiosity for tomorrow.