A/N: This is in the same 'verse as my other DBH stories, but you don't need to read them to understand.

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Connor was fully engaged with petting Sumo-one of the only activities that could completely occupy him, both hands carding through the dog's soft fur, occasionally returning to his head and ears to give him a good scratch and get his back foot to thud satisfyingly on the carpet-when Hank threw a bundle of cloth at him and it landed on his head. Squawking a bit, as state-of-the-art prototypes were not supposed to be surprised by humans, deviant or not, Connor pulled it off his head and turned sideways on the couch to glare at Hank, busy setting grocery bags on the kitchen table and laughing at him.

"Was starting to think you were in some kind of Sumo induced trance. Feeling more lively now?" Hank teased, and Connor increased his glare. It wasn't that Connor had been unaware of Hank returning home. How could he ensure Sumo's safety while left in charge of the dog's care if his perimeter sensors were not engaged? He simply had not found it necessary to alter his activities or divert his more immediate senses as Hank was not meant to be any sort of threat.

Connor had not factored his dignity into the equation.

"My scan of your grocery bags indicates that you bought two more frozen dinners than agreed upon, and I do not detect any broccoli or other greens." Connor was determined (Hank had said 'fixated') that Hank and Sumo would start to lead healthy lives. They were both extremely old, whatever Hank said to the contrary, and his research indicated that their previous lifestyles would cause premature death. This was entirely unacceptable and Connor had assigned himself the mission to halt this process.

He had discovered that missions of his own choosing were...satisfying.

So far, Sumo was much more 'on board' with the idea than Hank. (Connor was incorporating idioms into his speech in an effort to better understand the figurative imagery and slang humans so often used in language. Despite the fact that he was entirely 'on board' with this idea he'd noticed that 60% of the time humans did not seem to notice his effort, 15% of the time they appeared confused, and the other 25% of the time they would wince. This latter was only satisfying when it was Gavin. Other androids were more appreciative.)

"They were on sale, let me have my shitty lasagna in peace, alright? And I bought lots of fruit. Fruit is healthy." Holding up a bag of oranges and a single avocado as proof, Hank turned to the refrigerator to stow them, calling over his shoulder, "you gonna look at what's in your hands anytime soon?"

Frowning down at the cloth bundle, Connor's face softened as he felt the smooth fabric, letting his fingers glide slowly back and forth over the bit underneath them, and took in the pale greenish-blue color. Pretty. He shook it out to reveal the back of a hooded sweatshirt, one white drawstring dangling over the shoulder so that he found himself fighting the urge to flick it. "This...this is for me?" Hank had 'dug up' a variety of his own old clothes for the android to wear in the month since the revolution, some of which Connor had grown quite fond of.

But he had never had an item that was solely his outside of his Cyberlife suit. He had burned the jacket with the identifying serial number and armband the day Hank brought him home, the Lieutenant providing the accelerant and matches. Connor had kept the shirt and black pants for practicality purposes.

"Well, it ain't gonna fit me, that's for sure." Beer bottle in hand as he stuck the rest of a six-pack in the fridge and shut it, groceries put away, Hank walked towards the couch and snorted as he saw Connor still holding the shirt with hesitation. "Yeah, it's yours, Connor. You haven't even seen the best part-turn it around." Obeying the simple command, Connor did, curious, and felt his eyes widen in delight at the cartoon depiction on the front, LED so bright and blue he could see it reflecting off the shiny image.

"It's Sumo," he said in awe, then turned to where the St. Bernard was still sitting, panting happily as he waited for his pets to start again, "Sumo, you are art."

"If the artist was actually using Sumo, pretty sure he's owed some royalties," Hank took a pull off his beer while Connor looked up the legalities of animals being used in commercial art without their consent, "but it does look a lot like the big lug, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Hank." Connor hoped the sincerity in his words was clear as he folded the sweatshirt and set it in his lap. "I will treasure it." Hank coughed and took another pull off his beer as he looked away, something Connor knew meant the Lieutenant was regulating his emotions.

"Eh, I just saw it and figured you'd like it...anyway, what was that cartoon you wanted to watch?" Moving so he was leaning up against the side of the couch, but not sitting, Hank bent to scratch Sumo's head when the big dog walked towards him with a quiet 'boof'.

"Gravity Falls. Simon recommended it, he said it was a favorite of the children he used to care for. He seemed to think you'd find the character 'Grunkle Stan' relatable."

"Huh. I've heard of it, but I can't say I've ever watched any. Okay, go ahead and put it on." Sliding over the armrest, Hank plopped himself into the corner of the sofa, Connor turning so he was sitting cross legged as he accessed the television and started the first episode.

His hand kept a hold of the sweatshirt all the way until the end. When Connor realized that, obviously, he could put it on.

He wasn't sure he was ever going to take it off again.

Except for laundering, of course. Connor wasn't Gavin.