A/N: More fluff! Little smut. ;)
"Tip of My Tongue"
Part 8 of Connor's First
Connor left the kitchen after clearing up the remnants of dinner. Given Hank had opted to order in, a deep-dish meat lover's pizza that had been on the greasy side, it had only taken Connor a few minutes to dump the box in the trash and place the plate Hank had used inside the dishwasher.
Hank remained behind in the kitchen as Connor took a seat on the couch, Sumo padding over to bump his hand, insistent on getting attention. Connor willingly obliged the silent demand, scratching the underside of Sumo's chin as he asked, "Hank, did you want me to start the movie?"
Though Halloween was over, Hank's appetite for the horror genre wasn't yet sated.
The fridge opened, sounds of rummaging apparent from the appliance until there was a noisy crinkle of paper.
"Wait a second."
Counting up to eight seconds while he waited for Hank to join him in the living room, Connor wondered exactly what he was doing. Hank had been a bit distracted during dinner for some reason.
Plopping down next to him, Hank held two bottles in his hands, one of which was covered in brown paper. "Here."
Raising an eyebrow, Connor took the paper-clad bottle which Hank handed him. "What's this?"
The shape and weight were familiar. Had Hank refrigerated Thirium for him? It was a nice gesture but Connor didn't particularly need any at the moment.
Hank smirked. "Open it and find out."
Slipping the paper cover off, Connor stared at the Thirium bottle in his fingers, which was different than his usual brand. Immediately, he noticed the additional nutritional information on the label's bottom, proudly announcing the alcoholic content.
"You brought me Thirium beer," Connor said in disbelief. He strived to stay on top of all android developments, yet this one had slipped past his notice somehow. Instead of the normal blue, dark green liquid filled the glass bottle.
Hank watched him as he shook the bottle, the carbonated contents fizzing up underneath the lid. "Is that okay?"
Connor's gaze flicked to him, thinking how nervous Hank must been buying it for him. He inclined his head. "I admit that I've always been curious about what exactly you got out of drinking." Connor looked up the company on the label, finding that they were indeed a reparable source of Thirium. "I guess I'll find out."
"I did my homework," Hank explained, popping open his beer. "They've done a lot of tests to get the formula right for you guys. Depending on how much you drink, it should only last a few hours." The almost practiced tone in Hank's voice said he'd memorized the information in case Connor had any questions.
The instant he'd touched the bottle, a new software update had lingered on the edge of Connor's awareness. Now he chose to implement it, new lines of code installing themselves into his system within seconds.
It wasn't truly an alcoholic drink in the traditional sense. Rather the new update allowed Connor to pick up on millions of tiny electrolytes inside the green Thirium fluid, essentially fooling his mind and body into thinking he was indulging in alcohol.
No danger or risk involved.
After he had unscrewed the cap, Connor brought the top of the bottle under his nose, the hoppy notes teasing his olfactory sensors. His curiosity piqued, he placed the lid on his mouth and tipped the bottle back, the bubbly liquid tickling the roof of his mouth as the almost sour taste laved his tongue.
It wasn't entirely disagreeable, Connor tentatively taking another sip of the beer. The more he had, the less the heady taste bothered him.
"Well?"
Connor turned to Hank with a grin. "It's good. Different but good."
Relief filled Hank's expression. "Pretty soon they'll be offering a bunch of other options like liquor and wine. It's crazy how far we've come."
His grip on the beer bottle tightening, starting to think the liquor was beginning to work on him, Connor chuckled. "Thank you for thinking of me, this was a very nice surprise."
Connor's tongue felt strange, looser than normal. The tension in his shoulders had eased too, Connor sinking back into the couch further. Perhaps the allure of alcohol was simply taking the edge off of one's consciousness, which for an android was a downright novelty.
"No problem."
Drinking his own beer, Hank extended an arm along the back of the couch, his hand landing on Connor's shoulder. He started the movie without preamble, Connor more focused on savoring the alcohol spreading throughout his system than the events on screen.
Halfway through the film, the hapless inhabitants of the story were trapped in a grocery store, Connor felt an inappropriate response overcome him. Short soft bursts of laughter escaped him, Hank's eyes flicking in his direction.
"You find something funny over there?"
Putting a hand over his mouth, Connor shook his head, trying to suppress the odd reaction. "I know it's not…but I can't…seem to help myself." He straightened and Connor's vision wavered sharply.
Connor put a hand on the arm of the couch, blinking madly. Thankfully, concentrating on his disorientation seemed to dissipate the strange fit of mirth.
He turned to Hank at a loss to explain his behavior. "I apologize, Hank, I'm not myself." Connor put the bottle of beer on the coffee table before them, then went to stand.
He stumbled, Hank rising from his seat to clutch at Connor's elbow, keeping him steady on his feet. Rather than looking worried at Connor's weakness, Hank eyed him with amusement.
"Do you find my behavior entertaining for some reason?"
Hank helped Connor back onto the couch. "Your head swimming?"
He frowned. "Yes, it is."
Looking proud as if Connor had solved a difficult case at work on his own, Hank patted his shoulder softly. "You're drunk, Connor."
He glanced at the Thirium beer, shortly looking up symptoms of the conditions. The unbidden giggling, lack of balance, and relaxed state all fit.
"But it was only half the bottle. You used to go through four or five in one evening without any ill effects."
Hank chuckled. "I've had years of practice, you're just a lightweight, Connor. Give it time." He tugged Connor against his side. "It feels good, right?"
There was an unusual lightness in his body. Despite the fact he couldn't stand without needing assistance, Connor didn't mind the lack of coordination. It was oddly relaxing having his thought processes somewhat dulled, the constant mental tasks that defined his existence tiring at times.
He felt a yawn take over his mouth, raising a hand to cover it. "It's new and different so yes, I do like it."
"Good."
Connor slouched down further, his head landing on Hank's lap, which was surprisingly comfortable.
Hank's hand dipped down from Connor's shoulder to his head, smoothing down his hair, Hank's fingers playing with the ends before stopping upon Connor's neck entirely.
He cast his attention on the horror movie on the TV, the characters venturing out into dangerous fog for supplies. Connor felt heavy, warm and fuzzy inside from the alcohol and the company beside him.
As the finale played out, a series of truly unfortunate events, Connor gradually stirred, the loud gunshots rousing him from his stupor.
Hank shifted under him and Connor sat up, still feeling unsteady. "Not bad. What'd you think, Connor?"
"Sad yet good." That was an understatement, the downer ending fitting to the dark story if a little unfair after the trials the main character had gone through.
Hank studied him. "Able to walk yet or do you need help?"
Standing experimentally, Connor took a step and his knees visibly wobbled.
"Okay, that's a no then." Hank stepped close, the comforting scent of him instantly Connor putting at ease. "Actually, how much do you weigh?"
Confused at the abrupt change in subject, Connor answered, "Around 120 pounds. Wh-"
The breath went out of him when Hank proceeded to pick him up, Connor automatically putting his arms around Hank's neck to hold himself up as they started towards the hallway towards the bedroom.
"Don't expect this kind of service every night," Hank said with a wink.
Overwhelmed by the fact Hank was so near, Connor pressed closer and kissed him, Hank's pace slowing as he let Connor do what he liked before pulling back after a few seconds.
"Connor, if I'm right about how fast alcohol goes through you, in a little while you won't be up for any fun time."
He put his head down on Hank's shoulder, putting his nose against the man's neck. His cologne was faint but on the spicy citrusy side. Soothing and rich as always. "But I want you."
"Appreciated, but let's wait a bit."
Hank placed him carefully down on the end of their bed, Connor scowling at him, annoyed that his advances were being rejected. "I've never complained about your drunken antics."
In the middle of pulling out some pajama bottoms from the dresser, Hank's brow furrowed. "You're seriously going to sulk about this?"
Connor ducked his head, unable to keep himself from speaking his mind. "I feel good and I'd like to make you feel the same as well."
Hank put the clothes he'd been holding aside, then joined him on the bed. He poked Connor's shoulder, which caused his hands to slip on the covers, Connor losing his balance and falling back against the covers.
Straddling his waist, Hank stared down at Connor from above. "You want to do this then?" His hand crawled underneath Connor's shirt, Hank's fingers making Connor start briefly. "I can tell you from experience you might not remember it in the morning."
As Hank neared Connor's upper chest, he grabbed Hank's hand, managing to prop himself up on an elbow. "I will, I swear." He refused to let the new upgrade dictate the limits of his memories.
"Okay," Hank replied, smiling. "Let's have some fun then." He left Connor and crossed the hallway, the bathroom light coming on a few seconds later.
Connor wiggled out of his clothes, an edge of giddiness buzzing across his mind. As intimate to Hank as he had become, perhaps they would go past simply getting each other off and cross another milestone this time.
Reappearing in the bedroom doorway, Hank holding something in his hand.
"When did this crap get so complicated? Uh, the variety pack has cooling, warming, and tingling ones. Any preference?"
Staring at Hank, Connor tried to wrap his mind around the choices and quickly gave up, uncaring in the least. "So long as they all serve the same purpose, it doesn't really matter what type you use."
"Dealer's choice then." Hank tossed two of the tubes he'd been holding over his shoulder before climbing back onto the bed. He reached out and touched the side of Connor's leg. "I'm out of practice so no complaints about my technique, okay?"
A tightness already in the pit of his stomach, Connor started when Hank's fingers rubbed him down below, his breath shuddering at the rapid tingling sensation.
The feeling lingered, Hank obviously taking it slow for Connor's sake, then he pushed things further by introducing a finger and Connor squeezed his eyes shut, taken aback by the almost electric jolt that ripped its way through his spine.
"All right?" Hank asked, his voice light. His movements stopped as he waited for a response.
Connor nodded rapidly, making himself dizzy for a minute. "It's nice so far."
At the low rumbling chuckle of Hank's, Connor opened his eyes and moaned as Hank added another finger. Sudden hot breath against his lower half, then the slick wetness of Hank's mouth on him took Connor to new heights, his questing movements inside Connor not stopping until hitting a specific spot.
Shuddering as his nerves came alive in an instant, searing across his body in a single wave, Connor gasped underneath his breath, his fingers tightening on the bed comforter underneath him.
Connor thought Hank was doing an excellent job, perhaps too much so for claiming to be out of practice.
"Still just nice?" Hank said teasingly, giving Connor a small reprieve. "Or should I try harder?"
Connor twisted his head and looked down at Hank who was crouched over him, the mischief in his expression obvious.
"You're wonderful," Connor muttered, certain his face was flush. He trembled when Hank resumed his attentions, thankful that the tongue was among the strongest muscles in the human body. So very adept and stimulating all at once. Fingers too had taken on new appreciation as well.
Struck by the sudden urge to kiss Hank, to connect again, Connor sat up with effort and reached for Hank who rose from his waist, his lips noticeably wetter than usual.
"Please, Hank."
Realizing what he wanted, Hank readjusted, letting go of what laid beneath Connor's waist momentarily. "Bend your other knee."
Immediately, Connor followed suit.
Leaning on an elbow, Hank's lower body touched upon Connor's seconds later.
There was a hardness there that echoed his own, sweat breaking out on Hank's forehead when he leaned down and obligingly pressed his mouth to Connor's.
Under the soft lips, Connor all but melted, groaning as Hank resumed his teasing down below. Any thoughts flew right out of his head, at the mercy of the fingers and mouth that were determined to break him into pieces.
Hank's pace was swift, ruthlessly pushing Connor's body from all quarters. Trembling at the nearly overwhelming stimulation, fire razing his nerves, the tension in Connor's belly coiled tighter and tighter.
"Connor," Hank whispered against his mouth, his voice low and rough. "Are you close?"
Pulling back a touch, Connor clutched at Hank's shoulders tightly. "V-Very."
Hank smirked. "Good." His fingers inside Connor pressed harder than ever in a very specific place and suddenly Connor was drowning in bliss, his voice hitching sharply.
A veritable firestorm arched through Connor's body, leaving behind a pleasant warmth in his limbs as Connor's mind seemed to float away altogether.
It was a long time before he climbed down from his high, finding himself panting, his fingers trembling on Hank's skin.
Hank kissed his forehead gently, Connor starting to turn towards him when his energy abruptly flagged, plunging Connor into utter darkness.
When next he woke, Connor started upwards, immediately wincing at the pain that seized his head. There had been a warning on the Thirium beer bottle that a stimulated hangover could be possible upon consuming the liquid.
"Shit," he squeezed out, someone laughing next to him.
"I'm a bad influence on you," Hank said as Connor looked at him through squinted eyes. The sunlight streaming in from the bedroom windows hurt. "Though you could have worse role models."
Connor stared at him, a faint thought niggling in the back of his mind.
Beer. Hank had brought him beer. He'd drank some, then…
Heat rushed to Connor's face as he recalled his insistence at taking Hank to bed, the man's talented fingers and tongue driving him wild. He'd come and passed right out without a word of thanks.
"And there we go. I wondered how long it would take for the penny to drop."
Putting his hands over his face, Connor winced. "I am so sorry. I was blitzed out of my mind."
At the touch of fingers pulling one of his hands away, Connor's eyes flicked back to Hank who was smiling at him. "It's okay, Connor. I didn't really mind since I got something out of it too."
He was almost afraid to ask. "What?"
"Now I know you get horny when you drink, and you definitely are a lot more honest with your emotions under the influence."
So much for Connor's supposed control.
"I'm never drinking again," he vowed. "I was…wanton." He was downright ashamed of his behavior.
"You were having fun," Hank replied easily. "And there's nothing wrong with that." He paused. "But maybe only drink at home, yeah?"
"Yes, I understand."
Connor didn't want anyone but Hank to see him like that. He shuddered to think how he would act around his coworkers at the precinct in similar circumstances.
Their discussion about drinking over, Connor laid back down on the bed, pondering how long his hangover would last.
Hank tapped his knee and Connor turned his head towards him. "Yes?"
"By the way, it was a year ago today that we met in Jimmy's Bar," Hank said quietly, looking at Connor with warmth in his gaze. "That you completely upended my life."
Connor nodded. "I wasn't sure if you would remember or care. After all, you hardly observe holidays, let alone anniversaries."
"Because most holidays are commercialized cash-ins that prey on the weak-minded," Hank said, Connor hiding a smile at the familiar tirade. "Do we really need Christmas crap in stores as early as August? No."
"One would argue it's because people need time to prepare for the holiday, but no, I suppose, strictly speaking, we do not."
"By the time Christmas rolls around, you're sick of hearing about it."
"'Bah, humbug,'" Connor muttered, Hank raising an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, couldn't resist."
Seeming to realize he'd gotten away from his original point, Hank rebounded. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm glad you're here. If you want to do anything special today, let me know."
The last was said as Hank rubbed his neck, looking vaguely self-conscious at making the offer.
Though he did wish they could go out somewhere and enjoy themselves without worry, Connor ultimately ended up shaking his head.
"What happened last night was fine as a celebration. I enjoyed myself and you did as well. Thank you for taking care of me."
Hank laughed. "My pleasure. Literally."
"I still have half a bottle of beer left," Connor reminded him playfully. "I'll make sure I utilize its contents properly. Perhaps next time, I'll have more presence of mind and manage to return the favor."
Hank leaned down and kissed Connor, one corner of his mouth quirked up when he finally retreated. "Counting on it."
A shiver slowly went down his spine as Hank left the bed, Connor wondering how wanton he could get his partner to act.
It seemed more research was in order.
Having finished taking a shower, Connor was crossing the hallway, headed for the bedroom when he heard the doorbell ring. He paused as Hank got up from the couch, Sumo following on his heels excitedly.
Peering out at who could be there, he saw Hank open the door and stop dead, tension entering his body language.
Curious who had been able to cause such a reaction, Connor looked closer, the sight of an attractive tall black-haired woman in her mid-fifties only deepening the mystery until Connor confirmed her identity.
Erin Anderson, Hank's ex-wife. The mother of their son Cole.
As far as Connor knew, they had parted amicably in spite of the personal tragedy they had gone through. Hank hadn't mentioned more than that though.
When Hank said nothing, Erin shifted on her feet.
"Can I come in?"
Hank stepped aside so she could do so. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Sumo rushed up to Erin, his tail wagging wildly. She grinned as she leaned down and patted him on the head.
"Such a sweet boy," Erin cooed. She made kissy faces at Sumo before moving further into the house. "I didn't mean to show up unannounced, but I was in town visiting friends and thought why not?"
She looked at Hank closer. "You look well, must be living right."
"Better than wrong anyway," Hank replied.
Not sure about the sudden butterflies in his stomach, Connor moved quickly, reaching the bedroom just in time to conceal his presence as Erin wandered into the family room.
With her free hand, she fingered Hank's covered turntable, a fond look on her face. "Still prefer that pure sound?"
"There's nothing like it."
Despite the nonchalant small talk, the undercurrent of tension between them was palpable. Full of a million things left unsaid, the ghost that haunted them still very present in each other's thoughts.
Feeling a sudden need to act, to break up the awkwardness between them, Connor launched himself down the hallway wearing only a towel around his waist. Hank let out a small sigh at his appearance.
"Hank, we're out of shampoo. I've taken the liberty of ordering some more," Connor said, choosing to pretend he hadn't eavesdropped on the proceedings to make things less complicated.
Erin's eyes went wide, silently taking in Connor's presence, lingering on the active LED on the side of his head for a moment. Then she smiled as she stepped forward, offering her hand. "Erin Anderson, it's very nice to meet you…"
"This is Connor. We work together," Hank explained, doing his own bit of creative lying, completely omitting the romantic state of their relationship.
Connor, picking up on Hank's cue, nodded. "I apologize for my state of undress, I wasn't anticipating company. If you'll excuse me."
He turned, going to the bedroom, turning on all his external sensors at the same time. It wasn't as effective as being in the same room but near enough. Connor could see through the walls, Erin and Hank's figures sketchy blue outlines before him.
Dressing, facing the direction the pair was standing, he saw Hank run a hand down his face.
Erin turned to Hank with a smirk. "Well, he's very polite. Not to mention easy on the eyes." She tilted her head. "When did this happen? You were so against getting a household android for Cole."
"That's a long story," Hank said, trailing off, clearly reluctant to explain the matter thoroughly. "Basically, after the whole android mess last year, Connor needed somewhere to stay."
"Uh-huh." Erin stared at Hank expectantly, wanting more. "I notice you didn't disagree with the easy on the eyes remark."
"He was built that way," Hank said, immediately deflecting her insinuation. "I believe Connor said it helped him blend in better with people or some shit like that."
Erin looked askance at him. "You don't have to hide it, Hank. I can read between the lines quite well on my own, thanks. I think it's great you've finally moved beyond your petty grudge against androids.
"Connor seems really nice too." Erin laughed under her breath. "You finally have someone stable in your life who isn't so easily affected by the foibles of the human condition." That she was referring to herself was obvious.
"You'd be surprised," Hank said wryly, seeming comfortable for the first time since he'd opened the front door. "He's definitely his own person."
Erin leaned forward, mischief flashing across her features. "Now I have to hear more."
Dialing down his sensors, Connor felt guilty that he'd been insecure enough to be a fly on the wall during their private conversation.
Vowing to tamper down on his impulsiveness in the future, Connor finished dressing and after running a hand through his hair, walked back out into the family room.
The pair had moved into the kitchen where with practiced ease Erin was preparing herself a cup of tea while Hank sat at the kitchen table.
Connor bit his lower lip, ill at ease with how Erin looked like she belonged there. Once upon a time she had during a chapter of Hank's life Connor would never experience himself. That realization hurt a little bit.
"Sometimes he does experiments," Hank was saying. "Like wanting to hold hands or slow dance."
Erin looked incredulous. "He got you to dance? Connor really is a miracle worker. I never managed that."
"Apologies for the wait," Connor announced, entering the kitchen. He pulled out the chair next to Hank.
Holding up her completed hot cup of tea, Erin said, "Can I get you anything? Not that I really know which models can eat." She let out an awkward laugh. "Sorry, am I being offensive?"
Connor shook his head. "It's okay, I'm a bit of a special case. But no, beyond Thirium, I cannot eat or drink yet."
"Yet?" Hank said, shooting Connor a look of surprise. "What the hell does that mean?"
With a sudden lump in his throat, Connor glanced at him. "Mr. Kamski did indeed have such an upgrade available when I phoned and asked him a week ago. However, it will take some time to recalibrate to my specific model."
"Fuck, Connor, way to sit on the news."
Much like last time when he had increased his sensory reaction and unwittingly gained the ability to feel pain, Connor had wanted to keep the news secret until he was sure the installation had gone over well with no complications. There was no need to needlessly worry Hank if he could avoid it.
Erin cleared her throat, subtly reminding them she was still present. "Well, that sounds like something to celebrate. What's the first thing you'd like to try eating, Connor?"
Hank's knitted brow said he was still pissed Connor had kept the news under wraps. Unable to do anything about the issue right now, Connor gave the matter some thought.
The first thing he'd ever seen someone eat with relish had been Hank with a-
"A hamburger," Connor said. "Many people seem to enjoy them a lot. In fact, it is a quintessential American meal."
Joining them at the table, Erin smiled. "It is, yes. Just make sure you make it a good one. Pale imitations aren't worth your time." She glanced at Hank. "I always thought the hamburgers at the Chicken Coop were greasy but tasty."
"Must be because they're super unhealthy. At least that's what a certain someone told me a while back," Hank said, his eyes going straight to Connor.
He squirmed slightly under the sudden scrutiny. Back then Connor had been desperate for a conversational topic, anything that wouldn't make Hank dislike him further.
Connor still counted calories for Hank but had long realized that a little indulgence here and there made his partner happier in the long run.
"Yes, well, I'll take the recommendation under advisement," Connor replied.
Erin had been watching them interact closely. "How do you like working with Hank, Connor?" There was an emotional undercurrent in her words Connor couldn't quite place.
Hank said nothing, letting Connor speak for himself.
"He's an excellent detective. I can see why he received so many commendations in the past and rose to the rank he did."
"If…everything hadn't happened the way it did, Hank would probably be in charge of his own precinct by now," Erin replied, Connor finally pinning down the undertones in her voice.
Sadness, disappointment.
Did she regret leaving Hank as she did? Erin had been unable to deal with Hank's immense depression and grief over the loss of Cole.
Feeling the need to speak up for Hank, Connor straightened in his seat. "He's not some horse that's been put out to pasture, Ms. Anderson. His career is far from over and I'm sure he'll be amply rewarded if he continues to work as hard as he does."
Surprise flitting over Erin's features, she let out a short breath. "I didn't mean to imply he wouldn't, just that I wish things hadn't been so rough for everyone back then." A beat. "And please call me Erin. Ms. Anderson makes me feel like I'm back at work."
Connor put the pieces together. Her patience, the no-nonsense way she spoke to others. Not to mention the white chalk streaks that showed in places on the underside of her shirt sleeves. "You're a teacher."
"Very good, Connor. I'm impressed."
Hank snorted. "He hides it well, but Connor mentally runs circles around me all the time. It was irritating at first but now I rely on him for too much."
"No, you don't," Connor interjected. "If anything, I don't do enough."
Hank gave him a warm smile. "You do plenty. Any more and you'd be spoiling me."
"You two are going to give me cavities here," Erin said, grinning at them. "The cute couple."
Inwardly, Connor glowed under the compliment. Hiding their relationship away all the time meant Connor didn't always have a solid frame of reference to compare their progress to others.
Perhaps he and Hank were doing well so far after all.
"Shut up." Hank's response was gentle, not at all annoyed at Erin's inference. Did he welcome the praise as well?
Hank stood up from the table. "I'll be right back."
As soon as he left the kitchen and the bathroom door clicked shut, Erin's gaze came to rest on Connor thoughtfully. "He suits you."
"Pardon?"
"Around you, Hank lets his guard down. He relaxes. He rarely did that with me. 'Course with a kid and all, it was a different dynamic. Still, it's good to see Hank not so rigid and gloomy anymore."
She smiled. "I'm glad you're with him, that he's not alone." Her thoughts turned inward for a moment. "He's not good on his own."
Truer words had never been spoken. "I believe you're correct in that department."
Erin chuckled. "And here I thought I was coming over to just annoy him today. Nice to see Hank is finally growing a person again. It's been a long time coming."
She glanced at her watch. "I should probably get going. Give Hank my best, will you?"
Erin rose from the kitchen table and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. "It was great meeting you, Connor."
She turned and headed for the front door, shortly opening it. The click of the door closing behind her was soft, Connor hearing the car parked in the driveway roar to life a moment later.
Hank walked back into the room a minute later, doing a double-take when he saw Erin was gone. "She scampered off again." He sighed. "Erin was always crap at goodbyes."
Snatching her leftover tea mug from the table, Hank placed it on the counter.
Finished with the task, Hank came to stand next to Connor's chair. "You're awfully quiet after being so chatty not so long ago." He touched Connor's shoulder. "What's up?"
Debating how deep to go into the issue, Connor decided to be honest. "Meeting your ex-wife…I suddenly realized that there is a part of your life that I will never know. Your struggles rising through the ranks at the station, your married life and domestic bliss after having Cole, it's all a big blank to me. It's a bit sad thinking about it."
Hank blew out a breath. "Connor, as bad as I was when we first met, I was worst with Erin. After a while, even she had enough of my self-destructive behavior. I wasn't in a healthy place and Erin refused to take any crap, leaving before I dragged her down too.
"To be honest, I'm kind of glad you'll never see me at my lowest."
Connor watched Hank scratch at the back of his neck, avoiding his gaze. "But not too long ago, that man was a part of you, and I want to know you completely, Hank, including the ugly bits you want to hide away."
Hank finally looked up at Connor, a strange look on his face before he narrowed his eyes. "…If you'll really want to know about my past, I guess I can clear things up for you."
He left Connor only to return holding two large plastic binders. He sat next to Connor and placed them on the table.
Flipping open the top one, Connor's eyes seized on a photo of a much younger Hank perhaps around 15-16. His hair was brown and short, wearing all black with leather pants. He was seated on an old-looking couch, his eyes downcast, ignoring whoever was holding the camera.
It was Hank in full goth teenager glory.
More pictures followed: birthday parties, weddings, etc. All the pieces of Hank's life Connor had wished he had been around for.
"You should digitize these," Connor remarked, flattered Hank had decided to share them with him.
Hank rolled his eyes. "Have you met me, Connor? Who has time for that?"
A familiar face peeked out from a photo taken in what looked to be Hank's college dorm.
"Is that Captain Fowler?"
Hank nodded. "Yep, that guy's been a torn in my side for a long time."
"This is amazing," Connor said, secretly committing each picture to memory so he could peruse them at his leisure whenever he wished.
A flash of sadness crossed Hank's face when Connor moved onto the second photo album, the first image that greeted him a small baby sleeping peacefully in a crib.
Cole.
The second photo was Erin holding him as she fed him from a bottle, looking tired but happy.
"We tried to get pregnant for so long," Hank said quietly, Connor glancing at him briefly. He didn't seem too down about the proceedings considering. "My fault, not hers. Then just when we were about to give up, along came this guy."
He fingered a picture of Cole sitting at the table in a high chair, baby food smeared on his face, a fond look on Hank's face.
Connor continued flipping pages, watching Cole grow up before his very eyes, snap by snap of the camera shutter. "Did you and Erin both take photos?"
"Yeah, though she took the majority of them. Had the camera out more often, thank goodness."
All too soon, Connor neared the last page of photos. He saw Hank's eyes grow wet, though he quickly looked away to hide it.
The final picture in the photo album was Cole smiling at the camera, so innocent and ignorant of his ultimate fate that it almost hurt to view.
Connor had seen the photo before. It was the one sitting in a frame on Hank's nightstand. The very same that he'd scanned shortly after coming to Hank's house for the first time.
Hank's chin trembled and Connor left the photo album where it was, turning his chair so he could place his arms around Hank's shoulders. He didn't say anything as Hank reached out for him and clutched at Connor's back, silently mourning a child who'd been gone four years.
He fully understood why Hank had kept the photo albums stowed away in the dark for so long. It made his decision to show them to Connor even more poignant and meaningful.
Grief was a healthy and natural part of the healing process, which Hank had been inhibiting for far too long. Connor was more than happy to help him.
He didn't know how long they sat there before Hank pulled back, using the back of his sleeve to wipe at his face. He sniffed, eyeing Connor when he stood up, closing both photo albums.
"I'll put these back. Where were you storing them?"
"…Bedroom closet on the upper shelf." Hank's voice was rough with emotion.
Connor nodded. "Thank you, truly thank you." For trusting him, for opening up and allowing Connor to see Hank so very vulnerable. It didn't happen often.
"Yeah, you're welcome."
Walking away, Connor heard Hank stand, blowing his nose once he'd grabbed a tissue. He imagined Hank would have a nice headache from his crying jag later.
As he returned from putting the photo albums away, Connor was not shocked to see Hank pull out a few beer bottles from the fridge. He headed to the couch and flipped on the TV.
Apparently, the trip down memory lane was over.
Luckily, Connor could view the photos again whenever he wished, thankful his memory was infallible.
An idea lurking in the back of his mind, Connor hesitated for a second, then asked, "Hank?"
Hank looked over his shoulder, distracted from the basketball game playing on the TV. "What?"
"Would you be opposed to me starting a new photo album?" Seeing so many memories made Connor realize he and Hank really should mark out their life together somehow.
Gazing at him silently, Hank finally shook his head. "Whatever floats your boat, Connor."
Already thinking of places to visit and things they could do together, Connor smiled, looking forward to the future.