Hank needed a drink. First the stress at New Jericho, then Connor pulls his daredevil bullshit, then he runs into Shaun again of all people? It had been a stressful day to say the least. He wondered if his heart rate would ever go back to normal.
He glanced into the rearview mirror, checking again that Connor was, in fact, mostly ok. A broken arm was manageable. It would suck, and probably hurt like hell, but he'd be ok. Maybe it'd teach the little bastard not to pull a stunt like that again.
Doubtful, but Hank could hope.
"Was that normal tension, or sexual tension?"
The question caught Hank off guard, nearly making him swerve the vehicle as his body jerked in surprise. "What?" He blurted out. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Connor's face was the picture of innocence. "Back at the bookshop. Between you and Mr. Mars. Was that normal tension or sexual tension? I have difficulty differentiating between the two."
"None of your goddamn business," he snapped. It was more harsh than he intended, but he was already on edge. Hank didn't need this right now.
He took a left turn, probably a bit too fast, but Connor's little form seemed completely unfazed. He blinked a couple of times, analyzing Hank's response. "Right. So sexual tension then." He nodded to himself, apparently pleased with his deduction, before going on. "How do you know Mr. Mars?"
Nope, he wasn't going there. He didn't even want to be thinking about it, much less discussing it. Especially not after the stunt Connor had just pulled. "That is not what we're gonna talk about right now," Hank said angrily.
He could feel Connor's inquisitive eyes on the back of his head. "Is there something else you wanted to discuss?" he had the audacity to ask.
"Are you fuckin' serious?" The kid had to be messing with him. "How about that Jason Bourne crap you just pulled? How about we talk about that?" Hank turned on the next street, signaling only at the last moment. He had been on autopilot and had to correct himself to head towards the android clinic, not home.
"I really don't see what there is to talk about there," he responded.
"You've gotta be shitting me." There was no way in hell Connor could possibly think he was getting off that easy. When he glanced in the rearview mirror again, the kid's expression betrayed no indication that he found any problem with what he was saying.
"I've acknowledged that it was a poor decision fueled by illogical calculations," he reasoned. "I'll take steps to ensure I don't make a similar mistake in the future. What else needs to be discussed?"
"Oh, hell no," Hank cursed. He had to resist the urge to lay on the horn as a slow-moving vehicle in front of him decreased its speed even more, apparently looking for a parking space without any regard for anyone else's time. He flipped him off as he sped past. "You do not get to logic your way out of this. You're… damn it. You're fuckin' grounded, that's what you are."
There was silence from the back seat and Hank looked up again to make sure he had heard him. He looked pensive, as though there was something in Hank's words that needed to be deciphered.
"Grounded," he echoed, looking for all the world like he didn't know the definition of the word. "So, you want me to do nothing but work rather than participate in recreational activities?"
Well fuck. Connor knew damn well how hard Hank was pushing him to expand his horizons. And it wasn't as though he could make him stop working now that Jeffery was on board. "You're an asshole, you know that," he grumbled.
Connor had the audacity to shrug his tiny shoulders at Hank's declaration. "You have mentioned that. A few times, actually."
Hank turned down a side street. He'd lost this debate, and Connor damn well knew that. He physically bit down on his tongue rather than verbally admitting defeat.
"I am sorry," Connor insisted softly. His voice was quieter, having lost its cocky edge in favor of a genuine apology. "I know it was stupid. I didn't mean to worry you."
"I know you didn't," Hank sighed. The sky was getting dark and he could see lightning in the distance. Hopefully Connor was right and the repair wouldn't take long. "You know I can't help worrying. And when you pull crap like that..."
"I know. I'm sorry," he said again.
God, it was hard to stay mad at the kid when he sounded so sincere. "Just… please be more careful," he didn't know what he'd do if something happened to him again.
"I will," Connor promised.
Somehow, Hank doubted that, the kid made it a habit to get himself into these situations, but he'd let it go for now. He smiled at him, making sure he could see it in the mirror.
"So, will you answer my question now?" Connor asked.
His face fell, chest clenching uncomfortably at the reminder. Damn this kid and his persistence. "What question?" He knew damn well what the question was, but he'd do just about anything to delay answering.
"How do you know Mr. Mars?" Connor asked again, oblivious to his stress.
Hank sighed. If he'd known that losing the argument meant he'd be corralled into opening up about personal shit, he would've fought harder. But, he knew Connor wasn't about to give up. Once he was curious about something, the little asshole would dig until he got his answers. It was best to just get it over with. "He's my ex," he said at last, hoping he could leave it at that.
"Your ex?" Connor echoed. "The two of you dated?"
Damnit, he knew that would have been too easy. "That so surprising?" He countered. He could see the clinic now. The faster he got there, the sooner this conversation would be over.
"It is a little surprising, yeah," he admitted. There was a note of confusion in his voice, like something wasn't clicking.
Hank could feel a lump forming in his throat. He didn't exactly advertise that he went for men, but he never imagined Connor might have a problem with it. "Why's that?" He prompted. He met Connor's eyes in the rearview mirror and for a moment, he was afraid of the answer.
But Connor just blinked, expression turning thoughtful. "You are significantly older than he is," he announced.
Ok, not where he thought that was going. "Hey! I'm not that old!"
"By my count, you're sixteen years his senior."
"Fuck you," he swore. He'd had plenty of 'robbing the cradle' comments back when they were dating, he didn't need them now, years after they'd broken up. "How the hell would you even know that? I thought you can't scan people anymore."
"I can't." Connor's focus turned to the window as they pulled up to the clinic, evidently realizing they had arrived. "He had a banking document pulled up on his computer, it listed his birthday," he explained. "He has very good credit, by the way."
Hank put the car into park, the gears grinding as he moved the stick harder than he should have. "Look, it was a long time ago. It doesn't matter anymore." He wanted to drop it and hoped that Connor would pick up on that from his tone. "Now, are you gonna keep being nosy, or are we gonna get you fixed?"
For a second, he was worried the curious little bastard was going to select the 'nosy' option. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, then appeared to think better of it. "I suppose the sooner I'm repaired, the better," he relented.
-o-
Connor was glad Hank had agreed to take him to a clinic rather than New Jericho. He claimed that, since it was a minor repair, he didn't want to bother Simon with it. While that was true, he also hadn't been too keen on returning there. The deviant leaders were entirely too excited about his diminutive form, and he was not in the mood for their coddling today.
Well that, and he didn't want to admit that he let his borrowed body get damaged through such a stupid stunt.
He took Hank's hand as soon as he left the car, it had become habitual to do so. As much as he would like otherwise, he did feel more vulnerable as he was. Hank's presence made that easier.
The clinic wasn't particularly crowded, which was nice, and they were able to go right to the check in desk. He was too short to see over the counter, so Hank retrieved the informational tablet he needed to fill out for him before they sat down to wait for an available technician.
"I can do that," Connor told him as Hank began to type information into the necessary fields.
"Your wrist is broken," he argued. "You shouldn't be typing."
Connor rolled his eyes but didn't counter the statement. Androids were ambidextrous by design, but the Lieutenant was right that it would be cumbersome to type as he was. "Ok, but do you even know what to put down?"
Hank gave him a frown and gently bopped the top of Connor's head with the tablet. "I know how to fill out a hospital form, I'm not an idiot."
He shrugged, sitting back in his seat and choosing to instead look around the room. Besides the receptionist, an HR400 with a name plaque on the desk reading 'Eric', there were three other androids waiting, none of them appeared to be in critical condition. An AX600 with what appeared to be a nasty burn on her leg seemed to be the worst.
"Fuck, alright, I guess I do need you for some of this," Hank told him suddenly. He showed him the document, turning it so he could see where the model number was supposed to be filled in. "Do you even have a model number in that body?"
No, he supposed he didn't. He hadn't really stopped to appreciate that he was now, technically, the first android not to have one. But that would change when he was back in his normal body, and this was an official form that would attach to his technical records. "Just put it down as 'prototype'," he reasoned. "That's true for both this and my real body."
"Fair enough." Hank typed it in without issue, but his fingers paused over the next section. From his angle, Connor could just see that it was calling for his registration number.
He looked away, pretending to once again be more interested in his surroundings, effectively avoiding the disapproving glance Hank gave him as he selected the option for unregistered.
Connor fully intended to register, he did. It just wasn't as simple a matter as Hank seemed to believe it was. Not for any bureaucratic hurdles, but for one distinct personal one.
Being registered meant that an android could select a surname.
There was only one that Connor wanted to use, but it wasn't something he could select without talking to Hank about it first. Connor knew that he would more than likely be alright with it, but he couldn't just assume. On the off chance that it wasn't ok… well, that wasn't something he wanted to think about.
And he sure as hell wasn't going to talk to Hank about it when he looked like… this.
"Alright, I think that's everything. Got you all checked in," He told Connor, hitting submit. Thunder rumbled in the distance and they both looked out the window to the quickly darkening sky. "God, I hope this doesn't take long."
Connor was inclined to agree.
