Family, to Connor, meant something a little different than to most children his age.
He saw the other kids at school who came riding to school in their parents big, shiny cars, jumping out of the backseat excitedly as they waved goodbye to their parents. They called them Mom and Dad and said their I love you's before leaving them behind for the day.
Connor watched dejectedly out of the window from the backseat of Hank's beat up old car that noisily revved along the road as the rain poured down, the droplets smattering hard against the window pane.
Hank brought the car to a jerky halt and cursed as he smacked a hand down against the steering wheel. "Jesus Christ, the drop-off lane is for drop-offs, it's not a fucking parking spot."
Connor's heart had started to pump rapidly as he realized they'd reached the school already. He started when a soft pressure pressed against the hand he had setting on the empty middle seat. Kara was sitting beside him and had placed her warm hand over his, offering him a small smile.
"Relax," she said in her soft voice. "You're so tense." Her hand left his to squeeze his shoulders which were very rigid, he suddenly noticed.
Kara was Connor's only friend at the moment. When he first came to live with Hank a few months ago, she was the first person who had made him smile, and that had been about a week into his stay. She had showed him the ropes of how life was going to be now, living with a foster parent, and she'd said that as far as foster parents went, Hank was the best she'd ever had.
There was another boy who lived with them named Markus, but he had a very different nature than Kara. He was nice to Connor, but he was also a little more serious and had a sarcastic humor that Connor wasn't very attuned to. He was the same age as Connor and Kara, but he seemed much older in Connor's eyes.
Kara let on a little bit more about Markus when they were alone: how he came from a nice, suburban family who lived on the wealthier side of Detroit. His parents had died in a car accident about two years ago, and Markus had been lucky to come from that same crash with his life. He hadn't come out unchanged, though, and the physical changes were more or less unseeable to those who didn't know it was there.
A new leg from the knee cap down, Kara had explained, because it'd been crushed by the passenger seat reeling back. His right ear drum had also suffered in the crash, and now his hearing was only to 25% in that ear.
For both of these injuries, none of it was visible to the average person. Markus did have one blue eye and one green, and he had thought that was also part of the crash, but Kara said that he was just born that way. Connor thought that was pretty rad.
As for Kara, hers was a simpler story, but also more sad in his opinion. She was orphaned as a toddler, and Kara didn't know exactly what happened there. No one told her, and if she really wanted to know in the future, Hank had said he'd tell her all about it when he felt she was old enough.
She'd been through the mill and had gotten her fair share of foster parents who'd looked after her until they tired of playing house or for whatever reason, and then they'd sent her back to the orphanage. Kara had said when Hank stopped by and picked her up to take her home for the first time, he told her she'd never have to go back again.
And, so far, for the past three years, that had stayed true.
When Connor first arrived three months ago, he didn't know what to expect. He'd been in the orphanage all his life, and this was the first time social services had placed him with a family. Initially, he'd been scared; the orphanage was his home, and while it wasn't always the most welcoming or friendliest place, it was still his—it was all he knew.
He'd heard stories and seen the returning of faces of kids who'd been placed in homes and then sent back months later. If they just ended up back in the orphanage, then what was the point of leaving to live with strangers in the first place?
Hank didn't seem like a bad guy. Connor didn't get the warm welcome Kara had talked about getting, but Hank was never mean with him. If anything, he always seemed a bit distant, as if he didn't really want to get to know who Connor was. He didn't know if this was better than the counselors who used to ask him a million questions about himself, or worse. Kara also thought it was strange how Hank wasn't as warm to Connor as he was to Kara or Markus, and she'd secretly promised him that she'd get to the bottom of it.
That had been a month ago.
Hank beat his hand on the steering wheel now as the parents parked in front of him in the drop-off lane still hadn't moved. "Goddamn it, I'm going in there and telling those—"
"Just leave it, Hank," Markus said from the front seat, unbuckling his seatbelt in the process. "You don't want to be late to the office again. You know what Fowler will say if you show up late one more time this month." Then, Marcus put on his best impression of Hank's boss. "Goddamn it, Hank, this is the fifth time this month. Do you know how thick your disciplinary fol—"
"Hey, watch your language," Hank cut in, but he fell back against his seat in defeat.
Kara unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned forward in her seat to squish in between the driver and passenger seats. "Markus and Connor and I can go in and tell the principal about this. Don't worry, Hank. We can do this for you because you know Markus is right."
Hank eyed Kara for a moment before relenting, nodding his head at her. "All right, all right. I know I'm wrong when the two ten-year-olds sound more reasonable than I do."
"I'm eleven," Markus said.
"Your birthday was a month ago, excuse me for forgetting," Hank said, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
"Yeah, yeah, just don't forget to pick us up again," Markus said, and as he let himself out of the car, Connor saw a half-smile on the kid's face.
Hank picked up a dirty napkin and tossed it after Markus. "That was one time. Let me be human for a day without bringing it up all the time."
Kara giggled as she opened her door. "I don't think he'll ever forgive you for making him miss the new Spongebob episode that came on that day. It was a special and it only aired once for the holiday."
Hank was about to retort, but Kara had already shut her door. Hank sighed and cut his eyes to Connor, who still had yet to leave the safety of the car.
"You waiting for something, son?"
Connor ignored him and stared out the window once more, glancing and analyzing all the kids who went inside. If he could just avoid one of those faces today, then he'd be okay. Maybe Gavin would be sick today and his mom would make him stay home.
He could hope.
"Hey," Hank said again, and this time he snapped his fingers. Connor turned to him. "I gotta go, kid, so you'd better—"
"Please don't make me," Connor said quietly, and it was the first time he'd asked a favor from Hank since his time living with the man.
Hank's eyebrows rose at the request before he narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?"
Connor didn't want to ask again, he just didn't have the strength for it. Lucky for him, Hank was in too much of a hurry to fight him on the matter. After a hasty sigh, he rolled the passenger window down and called out to Kara who was waiting by the car for Connor.
"I don't think Connor's feeling too hot. You go on ahead without him."
Kara furrowed her brows, and after a quick glance at Connor, she nodded to Hank and waved to Connor before running off into the building behind Markus.
"Jesus," Hank said, before pulling away from the curb rather hastily. Once they cleared out of the school parking lot, Hank floored it, Connor's head hitting the headrest with the force Hank put the car into. They drove awhile in silence, and the tightening pit in his stomach that had formed at the thought of facing Gavin today had receded.
Connor didn't understand why Hank complied with his request so easily. He'd never gotten anything with a simple ask without being asked for something in return, like doing more chores or taking care of the toddlers back at the orphanage for an evening. He wondered what Hank would ask of him.
His nerves were slowly returning as his mind raced, and he tugged at his sleeves anxiously. Hank glanced back once, and when he caught Connor bristling with nerves, he questioned him again.
"What's got you so worked up, huh? Trouble at school?"
Instead of answering the man, he said, "Where are we going?"
"You're a lucky boy, today, kid. Take-your-kid-to-work day came early for you."
Connor gulped. "We're going to the precinct?"
Hank turned to face Connor at his trembling tone, and the man huffed a laugh. "Don't tell me you're scared. Don't you think being surrounded by cops is about as safe as you can be?"
"But, cops aren't the only ones there. Aren't there bad guys there, too?"
Hank faced forward as the traffic light flashed green. "Oh, don't worry about them suckers. They're behind bulletproof glass. They can't get to ya."
Connor didn't feel reassured.
They pulled up to the station and Connor morosely followed right on Hank's heels, scared and unwilling to leave his circle of safety.
Hank greeted a few people as he speed-walked his way past the front counter and the many rows of desks lined up in the back. When they reached the desk that had a nameplate that read Lt. Anderson on it, Hank gestured for Connor to sit. "Wait here, I'll only be a minute, and then we'll be outta here." And, before Connor could agree, Hank had walked into a closed off room behind him and slammed the door.
Hank's desk is messy, Connor thought as he sat down and spun himself in the wheelie chair. He spared a smile for himself, loving the fact that instead of going to school and facing that bully, Gavin, he was at work with Hank, having fun in a swivel chair.
The novelty of that wore off real quick, though, and Connor found himself glancing at all the pictures Hank had stuck up on his corkboard. As usual, there were a ton of pictures of Hank in his uniform, standing tall and proud and clean-shaven among his fellow officers. He was wearing one of the police uniforms that Connor associated with most cops, but Hank wasn't like them. He was a lieutenant, and Connor didn't know what made him so different from the other cops, but he knew that it meant that he could wear whatever he wanted to work now, and Connor thought that was pretty cool.
Behind one of the many uniformed Hank photos, there was one that was peeking out from behind it. He furrowed his brows and lifted the bottom corner of the picture only to find another picture. It was ruffled and had many creases through the middle, but that wasn't the only difference: Hank wasn't alone here. He was standing beside a little boy, a hand on each of his shoulders, bright smiles on both of their faces.
Was this Hank's real son? And, if it was, where was he now?
"All right, I guess we can— What are you doing?"
As soon as Connor heard the familiar gruffness, he'd dropped the picture back into place and sat rigid, wide eyes on Hank. "N-nothing."
Hank narrowed his eyes and glanced at everything on his desk Connor could have been looking at. "Uh huh, I believe that." Then, he shook his head and grabbed a few papers that were setting on the top of his desk. "We don't have time. I have to go drop these off, and then I have to swing by a crime scene because some idiot, who shall remain nameless, left his gloves in front of the house last night, so I have to go get that if I don't want to hear any bitc—" Hank stopped himself before he could say the swear word Connor knew was coming. "Just get a move on. We're wasting daylight."
This time in the car, Hank put on some noisy music that set Connor's teeth on edge. It was not pleasant, and it sounded like a bunch of guys screaming all at once, but he wasn't going to say anything. No, his mind was already flowing with new questions. Where was that mysterious boy? And, was it a coincidence that he looked a little bit like Connor? Maybe Hank got a divorce and now his son lived with his mom somewhere far away now. Hank probably doesn't visit him or else Kara would have known by now and told Connor about it.
Somewhere in all his thinking, Connor had dozed off. By the time he woke up, Hank had already made it to the sight of the crime scene he'd been talking about. He blearily blinked his eyes awake as Hank softly called out to him.
"Connor? Connor, come on. I need your help."
He yawned and stretched his arms out in front of him before following Hank to an empty house that was blocked off with yellow police tape they'd stopped in front of. He called it empty because the lawn was stripped of any lawn ornaments Connor was used to seeing on peoples yards. The grass was a bit high and the door was wide open, though no lights were on inside. It looked like a haunted house to Connor.
Hank began scanning the ground with alert eyes. "Can you help me find a pair of black gloves that were left here? They're leather and fingerless, so they should be easy to spot in all this green."
"Okay," he said, and Connor was suddenly flooded with a feeling he couldn't really name. He felt very important being tasked with this job, and it was small, but Connor wasn't going to let him down.
He got on his hands and knees and searched the side of the house first since Hank was glancing over the front. The dirt was still muddy from all the rain from the morning, but Connor didn't care about getting dirty. Lucky for him, neither did Hank, otherwise he'd have to take a bath every single day.
He came up empty on the side, but he didn't want to give up. Even when Hank exhausted the front yard and the backyard and was ready to head home, Connor still insisted that he could find the gloves, and so he went over every inch of the front and sides himself until only the backyard was left. Hank had already looked over it, and Connor meant no offense in thinking it, but old people tended to miss a lot of things kids didn't.
He searched low to the ground and high up on the ledges of the window sill, but he still found nothing. Only when he heard a slight scuffing sound come from in the shed did he decide to check in there.
There was a padlock on the door, but it was already broken and lying on the ground, so Connor reached up and creaked the door all the way open. It was pitch dark inside, but he didn't see a light switch on the side to brighten the small shed. It was very mucky inside and Connor's nerves start to jitter in fear. Maybe the gloves weren't in there. Who would want to go in there in the first place?
He had just grabbed a hold of the door to close it when something caught his eye on the ground of the shed. Right where the outside lighting stopped and crossed over into darkness sat one little glove.
Hah! Connor smiled and his fear buzzed into happiness at a mission completed. He started for the glove, the darkness no longer quite so scary, and grabbed it up. The other had to be around here somewhere. Probably in—
"Hey, there kid," a voice said in the darkness, and Connor immediately stumbled backward over his own two feet. His grip on the glove tightened protectively, and a call for Hank got caught in his throat.
The voice turned into a body as a shadow formed from the darkness from the back of the shed. A man crept forward, a weird, glimmering smile on his face. He held up a hand, and in between his skinny fingers was the other glove. "You looking for this? I didn't know it was yours. Here, I'd be happy to give it back. Here, take it," he said.
Connor really really wanted to run right out of the shed right that second, but that small, fingerless glove kept him from doing that. Hank had tasked him this one job, and he didn't want to let the man down.
So, he took a deep, shuddering breath and crept forward. The glove suddenly seemed miles away as he took each step closer, and once he was finally in reach, he quickly shot his hand out and pulled it from the other man who let it go with ease.
It was on the tip of his tongue to thank the strange man and be on his way, but then Hank called out Connor's name and everything happened so fast.
The same hands that had just handed over Connor's victory clutched him now in a tight, inescapable hold. He barely got Hank's name out of his mouth before a hand was thrusted over it, effectively silencing him. His muffled cries took a lot of energy as Connor writhed against the man holding onto him, and a few tears had started to mix in with his sweat-damped face.
Hank's calls got closer until he was suddenly standing in the doorway to the shed, his handgun raised in Connor's direction. Fresh tears sprung from Connor's eyes at the sight as he tried to beg Hank to put his gun down.
"Let the boy go," Hank said, and even though his voice was calm, his face was anything but. It was as tense as Connor had ever seen it. Not even when Hank got really mad had he ever had such a look of fury mixed onto his face like it was now.
Everything was scaring Connor right now, from Hank's raging look to the bruising grip on his chest, and he closed his eyes to try to escape the situation.
"Why would I let go of the one thing keeping me alive?" the guy said from behind Connor's ear, and he shrunk away in disgust.
"There's no need to be dramatic. You haven't done anything serious enough yet for me to shoot. Not unless—" Hank broke off, but spoke harder when he said, "Unless you have something to do with what happened here last night." He paused. "Were you here when that fight broke out last night? Did you see what happened here?"
Connor whimpered again at the thought that this man was actually dangerous. Connor knew something bad had happened here last night, and in his mind, the worst case scenario popped into his head. A killing, perhaps. Connor's blood dripped ice all over at the thought.
The grip on Connor's body tightened as the man began to move them forward. His eyes flew open, and he saw Hank slowly backing up and giving them space to stumble out into the muddy yard.
"I saw it happen. It was a mistake, man, honest. The other guy, the guy with the funny haircut, he was the one who pushed Mike. He looked just as good as dead, and we all freaked and just took off because we knew no one was going to come out of that mess clean."
"Well, you messed up," Hank said, inching ever closer. "Because Mike is very much alive, and if anyone had had the decency to stay and call an ambulance for the poor guy, then you would have known."
"Wait," the guy said, and Connor could feel the tight grip the man had across his chest begin to loosen. "You mean to say Mike's alive? No one died?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. So, there's no trouble here. Just let the boy go, and we can all go down to the station so you can tell them what happened."
As soon as Hank mentioned the police station, the guy tensed once more. "No, no, no, I know what you're doing. No, I have a better plan. You drop your gun, and I'll let the boy go."
"You know it can't happen that way," Hank said, and Connor desperately wondered why it couldn't happen in that moment. "You're the only one who knows what happened."
"Bullshit. I wasn't the only one at that damn party."
"Then, tell us! Come back, and tell the detectives what you saw."
Connor watched Hank's face very carefully to try to figure out what was going on. He had noticed that Hank's eyes would widen when the grip on Connor's chest tightened, and when the guy seemed to be loosening up, Hank would look relieved. Now, Hank's face contorted in determination once more just as the guy gripped him harder.
"I've been here before," the guy said. "It never ends well for me. So, if you want this precious kid back all in one piece, then you'd better empty your clip and toss it aside in two pieces."
Hank looked as if he was going to fight him on it again, but after a lingering glance at Connor and a soft curse to himself, he pulled his gun apart and threw it next to the back door of the house in two separate pieces.
"Now, that wasn't so hard."
And, that was the last Connor heard from him. The man abruptly let go of him, and Connor immediately collapsed to the ground as a fresh wave of tears roiled over.
He couldn't hear anything over his own all-consuming sobs racketing out of his chest, all of the tension and fear that had been coiled tight in his stomach releasing out of him as the threat of danger washed away.
He didn't know how long he sat there before he realized he was scooped up into Hank's arms. The man's soft words of reassurance finally filtered into Connor's consciousness, and once he realized that the pressure around his arms was Hank, he crawled further into the man's lap and wrapped his arms around his neck tightly.
"You're okay, Connor, I've got you. He's gone. I got you," he kept saying, over and over until it finally calmed Connor down enough to where he could breathe almost normally again. He hiccuped with every couple of breaths he took, but thankfully the crying had stopped, and his grip on Hank had begun to loosen considerably.
He'd never noticed before just how warm Hank was. He didn't think it just by looking at him, but now, when Hank was everywhere and all around him, Connor had never felt as safe as he did then right there in his arms.
It felt like forever to Connor, but eventually Hank carefully nudged Connor away from his shoulder and placed a hand on the back of his head as he spoke.
"You okay?" Hank asked, and Connor nodded, feeling small. Hank glanced all around them to make sure they were truly alone and settled his gaze on the shed.
"Why'd you go in that shed all by yourself? Don't you know not to wander off by yourself, especially at a crime scene?"
Connor tightened his fists and suddenly remembered the reason he went in that shed in the first place. He brought his hands up between himself and Hank and opened his fists to reveal the matching pair of gloves he'd been tasked to find.
"I was looking for these," he said as Hank huffed and gently took them from Connor's open hands. "I didn't want to give up."
"I'll be damned," Hank said, admiring the gloves. "All of this for a pair of damned gloves?" Hank's tone made Connor think that Hank could have cared less about the gloves, as if they weren't important at all. But, Connor didn't care if Hank thought that. He'd been given a mission and Connor felt pride at a job well done.
Connor didn't answer him. He only grabbed the gloves into his possession once more and held them tight.
Hank was staring at Connor with a look so full of wonder and confusion and a lot of other things he couldn't quite place. It made the heat in his cheeks flare up at being scrutinized so openly.
"You're something else, Connor."
Connor's eyes flitted toward Hank's gaze to try to determine if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"As noble as that was risking your life for a ratty pair of gloves," he said, flicking the gloves in Connor's hands, "I almost lost you today. Do you get that? Don't ever do that again, son. If you're not sure about something, then you come and get me, and I'll help you. Is that understood?"
"Yeah," he said softly.
"What's that? I can't hear you," Hank said.
"Yeah," Connor said again, a little louder.
"Still can't hear you with all that mumbling. Wanna say that again?" Hank said and this time he went for Connor's ribs, tickling him until Connor was writhing in laughter against him.
"Okay! I said, okay!" Connor said through fits of giggles. Hank chuckled and pushed Connor away as he stood up. Connor followed suit, wiping the grass off his knees before deciding to leave it. After the day he'd had, Hank was for sure going to make sure Connor took a bath tonight.
"Let's get back to the station. I'm sure the boys are gonna have a fit when I tell them about this."
Hank started to walk away, but Connor rushed up beside him and slipped his tiny hand into Hank's big, rough one; he really didn't want to be far away from him at the moment. Hank stopped and glanced at Connor with soft eyes before giving him a squeeze and a half smile before heading for the car.
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. When they got to the station, Hank had Connor follow him into the captain's office this time and hand over the gloves himself. The way Hank figured: Connor had found them and damn near gotten himself hurt in the process, so Connor deserved the credit. Hank had told everyone about what had happened back at the crime scene, and now that Hank had seen the suspect, the police had sent out some guys to look up on this new lead.
Then, they went for ice cream. Hank got chocolate and Connor got strawberry, and they ate it at a dirty bench on the sidewalk near the ice cream shop. This was the first time Connor and Hank had ever hung out without Kara or Markus, and secretly, selfishly, Connor wished it could be like this all the time. It felt nice having Hank all to himself, and Hank seemed to be a bit nicer when they were alone. He didn't know if it was because they were alone or if it was because of what happened back at the crime scene, but Hank was actually smiling with him, and Connor hoped things could be this easy with Hank every day.
By the time they were heading back to the school to pick up Kara and Markus, Connor's morose mood from the morning returned. Hank didn't let Connor's mood go so easily this time.
"Now that we … had the kind of day that we had," he started off, turning the volume down on the stereo, "I think it's time we start opening up to each other."
Connor's heart started racing because throughout the entire day, he had yet to come up with a lie to give to Hank to explain his odd behavior. He was pretty good at lying, if he did say so himself, but only when he had time to think about it. So much happened today, and Gavin was the last thing on his mind.
Hank eyed Connor curiously who quickly looked away and out the window.
"I'll start," Hank said. "Ask me anything you want. I'm an open book for ya."
Connor eyed Hank suspiciously. Anything he wanted? There were about a thousand things he'd wanted to ask. How old was Hank? When did he become a police officer? Why did he become a police officer? Why did he pick Connor to bring home out of the hundreds of other kids who were at the orphanage?
But, there was something more pressing on his mind as he remembered his trip to the precinct earlier, and he knew exactly what he wanted to ask.
"What happened to your real family?"
Connor watched him very carefully because he knew he was delving into really personal territory. Connor, himself, never answered when anyone asked about his family. It was a touchy subject for him and for a lot of people in his experience.
Hank was no exception. His eyes cut over to Connor so fast and so intensely that Connor couldn't even look away. He didn't look mad, but he wasn't exactly happy about being asked, either.
"Jesus, you really went in swinging, didn't ya?" Hank focused back on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel had tightened, whitening the tops of his knuckles with the force. "Why do you ask that? What makes you think you and Kara and Markus aren't my real family?"
Connor took a deep breath as quietly as he could. "I saw the picture at your desk. The one with you and ... and the boy."
"You saw that, huh?" Hank said, and now he just sounded sad. It almost felt worse than the thought of him getting angry. "Yeah, that was my first family. But, before I tell you any more, I want you to understand that you three kids are my family now, okay? Just because we don't share the same blood doesn't mean I think any less of you guys than my other family. You got it?"
"Got it."
"Okay, then." Hank ran a hand through his hair as he drew in a deep breath. "The boy in that photo was my son, Cole. I was lucky enough to spend a good nine years with him. Time that was filled with trips to the park and vacations and family outings to Cole's sporting events. Life was pretty good for that time."
Connor waited for him to go on, but he seemed to be lost in his thoughts as he stared unseeingly through the windshield, so Connor said, "Where is he now?"
Hank blew the air out of him in a steady stream. "Oh, Connor, he's no where you want to know about."
Connor knew what that meant.
"Anyway," Hank continued, "I felt so empty without him, without someone to care for. I started … forming some bad habits. I became someone I didn't even recognize. But, then, one day, I got this case on my desk involving a little girl. She came from the same kind of background as you did, and her foster parents turned out to be some kind of assholes, and when I saw the little girl sitting down at the station in one of those chairs by my desk, I don't really know what came over me. I just wanted to … help her. So, I cleaned myself up and vowed to get her and bring her home so that she'd never have to go through such a bad time again."
The wheels were turning in Connor's head until it all clicked into place. "Are you talking about Kara?"
Hank turned to Connor with a half smile and a twinkle in his eye. "You know any other little girls running around the house?"
Connor thought about the strong bond Kara seemed to have with Hank and her ability to bring the smile out of Hank more often than Connor ever could, and even more than Markus' funny antics. She was the first kid to come into Hank's family after he'd lost his first one, and Connor secretly envied Kara for the strong relationship she had with him.
"And, me? Cole looks like me."
Hank was quiet for so long that he wasn't sure he was even going to answer. But, then he said, "I've noticed."
Connor brought his thumbs together as he ran them in circles over one another. "Is that why you don't talk to me that much? Because I remind you of him?"
"What?" Hank said, scrunching his face up. "No, of course not. Why—" he broke off, and Connor could feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face. Then, quietly, he said, "Have I been doing that?"
Connor shrugged, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also not wanting to lie. "Kinda," he said softly.
"Oh, Connor," Hank said, and the sadness in his tone hurt Connor, twisting his insides guiltily. "Look here," he said. Connor picked up his head to glance at Hank, and the emotion in the man's eyes matched his tone perfectly. It almost made him want to cry. "Now, I'm sorry if I did that. I didn't mean to make you feel like that; I was only trying to give you some space until you came around in your own time. And," Hank paused to swallow thickly, "maybe it was just a little too hard looking at you without seeing Cole there. I didn't really notice I was doing it, but it shouldn't have happened, and for that, I'm sorry. Ya think we could just scrap the last three months and start over? Right now?"
And, how could Connor deny him this? He'd wanted the same thing, to just forget the awkwardness and tenseness of the past few months and go forward like how today was. It was all Connor really wanted.
It was easy and genuine for him to smile happily at Hank and nod his head. "Okay, Hank. I'd like that."
Hank breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as he reached over to ruffle Connor's floppy brown hair. "Good deal, kid. I'll do better, I promise."
The word had Connor beaming inside because he promised, and nobody could break a promise; it was the law.
Hank beat his hands rhythmically on the steering wheel as the happiness spread around them. "That's all I'm willing to talk about to a boy who's got his own worries on his mind. Which, speaking of, it's my turn to ask you a question." Oh, boy, Connor thought, that slow-spreading happiness freezing in its tracks before it could completely consume him. "Why didn't you want to go to school this morning?"
His question wasn't as heavy as Connor's had been, but somehow it hit Connor a lot harder than being asked about his family would have. It was just so immediately relevant, and it was a problem Connor was going through right now, and so all the feelings he held for it were multiplied times ten.
"Um, I-I just—"
"And, don't you lie to me, son. I have a built-in lie detector, right here," he said tapping the side of his temple. "And, my buzzer is going off like crazy right now."
Connor groaned lightly to himself, and he hoped Hank missed it. But, maybe it was okay to trust Hank. He hadn't wanted to tell him before because he thought the man would just brush Connor off as being too soft and tell him to toughen up. Or worse, he'd go to the school and tell the principal about it, and Connor couldn't have that.
Now, though, Connor thought Hank might just have some meaningful words to say.
"Well, there's this kid. His name is Gavin, and he's, like, the meanest kid in school. Whenever I switch classes to go to reading, he's just leaving the class when I come in, and sometimes he says things to me."
"Things like what?"
Connor bit his lip. "Bad words. Mean names. Anyway, I always just ignore him, but yesterday, he pushed me and knocked me down and—"
"Is that why you came home with rips and tears in your jeans?"
"Yeah, and he told me not to say anything to anyone, or else next time he'd hit me worse."
Hank furrowed his eyebrows. "He said that?" Connor nodded, and Hank said, "What a little asshole."
Panic overcame Connor at his hostile tone, and he turned in his seat to grab onto Hank's free arm that was resting on the console between them. "Please don't go to the principal. It would just make things worse, and I don't want everyone to know."
"But, this kid is harassing you and threatening you. If you don't do something about this, then he's gonna keep on treating you this way until you stand up for yourself."
"I know, Hank, I know. But, just don't get involved, okay? That would be the worst because then everyone will call me a baby for tattling."
Hank huffed as he made a sharp turn, and Connor realized they'd reached the school now. The school was overcrowded as always during parent pick-up, and they parked in the pick-up lane behind a dozen vehicles. Kids ran all through the sidewalk out front to look for their parents' car's, and Connor could see Markus and Kara start for their car as soon they spotted it.
"Well, what do you plan on doing? 'Cause you can't be skipping school every day because some little shit is bullying you."
"I know, and I won't. I just didn't feel like dealing with him today, that's all."
Hank eyed Connor as if he didn't believe him, but thankfully, he dropped it, sighing in defeat. "Okay. If that's what you want."
"It is."
Hank held up his hands in surrender. "Then, that's the way it's gonna be. I won't go to the principal, but I want you to promise that you won't wait too long before putting that kid in his place."
Connor held up his pinky finger in offering. "Pinky promise."
Hank stared at Connor's waggling finger amusedly, before he shook his head and entwined his own pinky finger with Connor's. "And, you know," Hank went on, "siblings are good for more than just making your life miserable. Maybe you might want to ask them for some help in getting this kid off your back."
The sound of the car doors opening signaled the arrival of said siblings, and Connor grinned to himself as he settled back into the passenger seat.
"What the hell kind of alternate universe did I walk into where Connor gets to sit in the front? I always get shotgun, I'm the oldest!" Markus said as he buckled himself up behind Hank.
"Language," Hank said.
"Ever heard of sharing?" Kara said. "Oh, wait, I think that word is a bit too advanced for you." Connor turned his head around just in time to witness Markus hit Kara in the arm. She yelped and punched him back, and both she and Connor laughed when Markus ooowwwed and rubbed his arm.
Before all out war could happen in the backseat, Hank adjusted the rear view mirror so he could look at the two troublemakers. "Knock it off," he said. "Markus, you know we don't hit girls, and Kara, you know you shouldn't pick on those who are smaller than you."
Connor giggled to himself as Markus cried foul play. "You watch, I'm gonna grow out of my skinny arms and end up being stronger than all of you."
"Yeah, come back when you grow some muscles," Hank said, and everyone in the car who wasn't Markus laughed at the joke.
On the ride home, Connor told them everything that happened with the guy back at the crime scene. He made it sound much more action-y than it actually appeared, and he definitely left out the parts where he was on the ground crying like a baby. Hank never contradicted him on it, but he did bring the severity of the situation back to the conversation. He didn't want anyone, especially Connor, to forget how dangerous the whole thing had been. Markus and Kara had both thought it sounded cool when Connor told the story, but after Hank's reminder, everyone was left with grim faces, and when Connor left the car once they got home, Hank pulled all four of them into a tight, family hug right there in front of their little house.
This was what family meant to Connor. Not what everyone else had: two parents, a baby brother, and a dog to top it all off. But this: two stranger kids who had accepted him whole-heartedly into their exclusive club, and a caring, protective man who didn't always know the right thing to do or say, but everything he did ended up coming from a place of love.
And, Connor loved all of them for it.
I love making my children actual children.
This was inspired by the cutest fanart I saw on tumblr with the three mains as children and trailing after Hank, and then this just happened.
I wish the three mains could have had more scenes together, but it was fun thinking of how they'd be as children and how they'd react to each other. It was especially fun having Hank parent them all because he's the best dad. I plan on having a few more chapters that follow Connor as he grows up with Hank and Markus and Kara, so that will be coming.
Thanks for reading!