Life in Detroit had returned to a semblance of normal after only a week had passed by. People that had fled the city returned as snow still drifted from the sky, laying a thin sheet of white over the bustle of life and making everything appear calmer than it was.
The day after the revolution, when Hank had learned that Connor had no place to stay, he had declared that Connor would be staying with him until he got sick of Hank. – "I do not believe I would be capable of that, Lieutenant." – "We'll see about that and call me Hank for fuck's sake". And Connor was more than alright with that arrangement. He felt more stable with a clear purpose. Take care of Hank, Sumo and their home.
Two weeks after he started living with Hank and Sumo, the Detroit police department had allowed him to take up his post as Hank's partner again. Connor had been unable to refrain from smiling, not that he wanted to. It was fascinating to feel something so strong that wasn't part of his program, yet being unable to supress it. But mostly, he had hated being at home while Hank was hunting down criminals without him. Without Connor being there to act as his shield should the situation require it.
Cleaning and taking care of Sumo had only been able to fill a small part of his day while Hank was at work. Connor didn't particularly mind going into stand-by mode until Hank returned, as it was better than actively waiting and having his system send him the priority task titled "Hank status update required" every three hours. But Hank had caught him once while in standby mode and grown increasingly upset when he learned that Connor would just switch off after doing the chores.
Counter_01Months16Days9Hours52Minutes03Seconds
Hank and Connor had finished a particularly violent case earlier in the day, where a male android had been dragged off the walkway into a side-alley by a group of android-haters, beaten until he was close to shutting down and then hacked into pieces. The body parts had been strewn about the side alley and blue blood had left its mark on almost every trashcan and object, painting the concrete and walls.
When they had gotten home, Hank had gone straight to getting himself drunk, after making sure that Connor was taking this case better than he was. His system had detected a software instability when he had seen the victim but that had been neglectable. Far more neglectable than the software instability that arose whenever he saw Hank drinking, his hard drive supplying him with already downloaded information about the consequences of prolonged heavy drinking.
Connor had disabled that information window weeks ago, after its appearance had almost forced him into emergency mode and caused error messages about his thirium pump not working correctly to pop up.
It reminded him of the time when the other RK800 had threatened Hank with a gun. After cross-checking the situation with various movies and books, he choose to classify it as feeling panicked.
System_task_priority01_take_care_of_hank
Since he started living with Hank, the latter had cut down on his drinking habit but it still remained his go-to solution whenever something upset him a great deal. There was nothing Connor could do about it, except hope that his presence could continue to make Hank feel at least somewhat better.
Counter_01Months16Days12Hours04Minutes29Seconds
Connor looked at Hank, who by now had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, nearly empty whiskey bottle at arm's reach to his right.
Software_instability_detected
He opened the bedroom door before going back to the kitchen to pick up Hank and carried him to the bed that was bathed in the light of a streetlamp, laying him down on his side. There was a pile of dirty clothes next to the wardrobe. On Hank's insistence, Connor only did laundry and a thorough cleaning of the house once a week. After pulling the covers over Hank's frame, Connor just kept standing there, looking and memorising Hank's exhausted face caressed by the warm, yellow light that came through the window. It made his face look softer, the wrinkles less pronounced. He seemed startlingly vulnerable. More so than usual. Most would not realize because of Hank's gruff exterior, but the man was undeniably fragile and yet unyielding and strong.
System_task_priority01_protect_hank
Connor wanted to be a shield that could protect the parts of Hank that were defenceless. Wanted to fix whatever broken parts made Hank reach for the bottle. He knew it was nothing more than a desire he couldn't fulfil, but that did not stop him from wanting it.
Software_instability_detected
Thirium_pump_error_detected
Connor chose to ignore the by now familiar error messages and not run a diagnostic, as he knew it was nothing that would cause any permanent damage. Instead he kept looking at Hank, the camera lenses in his eyes capturing each millisecond.
A thought – no, a need – flashed through his mind, as persistent as any message sent by his system. He wanted to know what Hank's skin and hair felt like. Although Hank had hugged him, draped his arm over his shoulder and exchanged other forms of contact with him, Connor didn't know what the skin of Hank's face felt like. Neither could he recall the precise texture of his grey hair.
He stepped closer to the bedframe, bending over slightly to be able to reach better, before lifting his hand. Connor faltered, hesitating midway, and briefly considered how Hank would react. But Hank was out cold and hadn't even woken when Connor had carried him. So, Connor considered his chances of quenching this illogical need without Hank becoming aware of it at around 93%.
Filled with a determination that was usually only reserved for missions or making sure that Hank was taken care of, Connor moved his hand again. He deactivated the skin on his limb to reduce the interference of his artificial skin, although it was miniscule. Yet it felt somehow important to do so.
It was softer than expected, given that Hank's personal hygiene could be described as nothing more than sufficient, only covering the bare necessities most of the time. Most likely, the softness was due to the conditioner Connor had mixed into the shampoo several weeks ago. Even if Hank didn't like Connor 'nagging him like an old housewife', there were quite a few ways to slightly improve Hank's lifestyle without the other taking notice. Or maybe Hank had simply decided to let Connor have those small victories.
His fingers ran from Hank's scalp and hair roots all the way to the end of the hair strand, following the slight waves of a wisp that had caught his eyes. He soaked in the feeling and saved it on the hard drive that he solely used for anything concerning Hank.
Given his processor speed it wouldn't matter if all the information he collected was properly organised or not, but he preferred every byte connected with Hank having its own place.
After a moment that seems to stretch impossibly long – given that his inner timer and clock appeared to function without the slightest error – the need appeared quenched and Connor removed his white plastic hand from Hank's hair.
He was about to step back and leave the room to go to Sumo and enter standby mode or watch television, when his gaze fell once more on Hank's face. Traced over closed eyes that showed movement beneath the lids, his pronounced nose. Beard. Lips. And suddenly, the illogical need to touch and explore, to catalogue the precise feeling of Hank, was there again. It was stronger than before and Connor barely hesitated before coming to a decision.
Plastic connected with chapped lips, a hot breath ghosting over the material and something in Connor's software went haywire after shooting an electrical current from his fingertips upwards, all the way to his elbow.
Software_instability_detected
Thirium_pump_error_detected
Processor_overload
Processing….
Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks
Connor blinked, caught off-guard, and his finger twitched against Hank's dry but warm lips.
Motoric_reflexes_error_detected
Processing…
Recalibration_advised
He began to trace the outline lightly, careful not to let his touch get too firm, lest he wake up Hank. He noted the chapped skin in the tubercles region of the upper and lower lip. The softness of the vermillion border and the precise shape of the cupid's bow. The way the skin sometimes caught against his digit.
Having completely mapped out and memorized them, Connor began to let his fingers trail over Hank's beard, noting every difference to the much smoother and softer feeling of his grey curls.
Connor decided he didn't dislike the much rougher feeling of facial hair as his sensory processors fed their findings directly into his primary processor. If anything, Connor wanted to explore even more, wanted to know all the different sensations Hank could provide his sensory processors with.
Software_instability_detected
His fingers ghosted over the strong bridge of Hank's nose, up to his brows and finally his eyes, careful not to touch the sensitive skin there too long or hard, as he brushed over dark eyelashes. They fluttered slightly against his plastic skin as Hank's eyes moved beneath the lids.
Finally, he let his fingers return to their starting point of Hank's now slightly open mouth.
He brushed his thumb over Hank lower lip, yet another irrational need entering his mind, like a persistent and well programmed virus he could do nothing against.
He wanted to replace his fingers with his mouth and trace Hank's face with his lips. Wanted to let his tongue explore to get his equivalent to what humans called taste.
The sensors on and in his mouth were sensitive, as their function was to analyse clues left behind on crime scenes. It would make sense to use them for a more in-depth exploration, Connor decided.
An image of Markus kissing North flashed through his mind and he quickly retracted his hand before having consciously decided to do so.
Software_instability_detected
Thirium_pump_error_detected
His face morphed into one Hank would call surprised or shocked were he awake. But he was not, and Connor felt the thing Hank called relief. Thinking about Hank's likely negative reaction to finding out Connor wanted to be intimate, sent all sorts of error and warning messages flashing. Connor felt his thirium pump beating erratically as he entered emergency mode and all but fled the room, only halting when he reached Sumo.
Motoric_reflexes_error_detected
Processing…
Recalibration_advised
Sinking down besides the big dog, Connor realized he was shaking. Ignoring the error messages, he started to pet Sumo, who was awake now and wagged his tail in anticipation of being pet. When the shaking didn't stop after a minute, Connor manually switched off all error messages and curled up next to Sumo. He didn't enter standby mode, his thirium pump sending another error message when he thought about Hank catching him unaware in the morning and asking questions.
He didn't know what to do with this new realization. Didn't know how to proceed from here. Everyday life, with all its intricacies, was already difficult enough for Connor to understand. The fact that the place where Connor felt most stable had suddenly revealed itself to be the most difficult of all scared him. He feared messing up the place he had, of disappointing Hank or making him feel uncomfortable around Connor. He knew from various media that unrequited desire could strain a relationship between people.
As he continued to pet Sumo, Connor finally understood what the phrase "ignorance is bliss" really meant.
I watched the game on Jacksepticeye's channel bc I don't have a ps4 and boy have I fallen for this game and my two precious boys. I'm utter trash for those two
hope you enjoy it! leave a comment or something if you want to pander to my praise kink ;)
note: this is a repost from ao3 and I still think is a hassle and makes things more difficult than need be
