Waiting. Why was there always so much waiting at medical facilities? Hospitals, Repair shops, it didn't seem to matter. He was always waiting.

Hank had gotten the paperwork squared away, but he and Connor had to sit there for over thirty minutes before a technician was available. Then, they had refused to let Hank go in with him, so now he was stuck in the reception area by himself until the kid was done getting repaired.

Rain had started to fall. It was light for now, but the wind was picking up, causing droplets to hit the window in sprays. It was grating on Hank's nerves.

He hated waiting.

He stood up, legs stiff from sitting and stretched. In all honesty, Connor hadn't been in for very long. But, impatience and anxiety made every second feel like an hour. He paced, ignoring the looks he got from the few other occupants of the facility.

After everything that had happened today, there was no way he could sit still. He had almost lost Connor again. Yeah, the kid was safe now, but the whole ordeal had stressed him out and it was hard to come down from that.

He sighed, leaning against a wall full of digital pamphlets. He had nothing better to do with his time, so he started leafing through them, desperate for anything to distract him for half a minute. Most of them were android specific. Advertisements for new updates, warnings about the dangers of interfacing without proper antivirus software, largely stuff Hank had no clue about. But there was one that caught his eye.

He pulled out the document on android adoption.

It was colorful and filled with dramatized images of overly happy families. The words 'Adopt today' splayed across the front as though advertising getting a pet rather than taking in a person. But none of that really mattered to Hank.

The pamphlet was more than an ad. It functioned as an e-document to actually start the adoption application process. He tapped it against his hand in frustration. If Connor would just register, he could fill the damn thing out already.

He stopped the tapping and stared at the document, a thought occurring to him. Connor had to be registered to submit the application. But there really wasn't anything stopping him from getting it filled out. Who knows, maybe having it ready and waiting would kick the kid's ass into gear.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway.

Hank sat down, anxiety ebbing now that he had something to focus on. He set about filling in the numerous fields, only skipping over the ones requiring registration information. He would talk to Connor about all of this, of course. He was confident that he would be in favor of the idea, but there was no way in hell he would solidify something like this without his say so.

But, he also wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. So, when Connor returned, accompanied by the receptionist from earlier, he quickly hid the half finished document in his coat pocket. "Connor," he called, getting up to meet them. "Are you ok?"

Connor greeted him cheerfully with a smile. "I'm ok, they were able to successfully repair my arm." he waved it about as though that was enough to prove his point.

"Thank god," Hank breathed, relieved.

"He really was quite lucky," the receptionist commented. "He described what happened. It's really a miracle the damages weren't worse."

"But he's alright?" Hank asked him, suddenly not trusting Connor's definition of ok.

The receptionist smiled at him. It was definitely a rehearsed smile, but he really couldn't blame the guy for phoning it in when he had the opportunity. "Yes, he is ok. He just dodged quite a bullet today."

Hank found himself nodding. That sure as hell was true, Connor had been lucky. It was about damn time with the foul luck he'd had in the past. "Well, if he's good to go, I think we should head home," he said.

Connor agreed readily, slipping his hand into Hank's. He would never get tired of that.

The receptionist typed a few things into his tablet, likely getting Connor checked out. "He's all set," he confirmed. "He'll just need to come back in a few days for a recheck."

"What?" Connor asked, sounding confused. "But I'm all fixed, that's not standard procedure."

"It is for prototypes," he responded with a dismissive shake of his head. "It won't take long, we'll just need to make sure the repair is holding."

"I guess that's fair," Connor said, though Hank could tell by the way his grip tightened in his hand that he wasn't fond of the idea. He couldn't blame him. Hospitals weren't something he enjoyed either.

"I'll email you the details for your recheck," he reiterated. He closed his tablet, and began making his way back to the desk. "Just try not to get into any more trouble, alright Connor?"

"I'll try," the kid promised. He rolled his eyes at Hank as he scoffed and muttered that that was impossible. Connor tugged on his hand slightly in an indication that he was ready to leave. "Thank you, Eric," he called back before they made their way through the clear glass doors.

Hank was immediately grateful that he had brought his coat. Despite the August heat, it was the only thing protecting him from the pelting rain as the storm picked up. He pulled Connor close to him, trying futilely to act as a barrier from the weather as they rushed to the car.

It took too goddamn long to get the kid buckled, the plastic clip fighting him in his haste to get it fastened. Water ran off of him in sheets, soaking his pant legs as it went down and filling his shoes. Hank was looking forward to being out of this shit.

The drive home was slow. Even at full blast, the windshield wipers were barely enough to give him a glimpse of the waterlogged streets. But they made it. Hank breathed a sigh of relief as he shut off the car, finally home safe.

"Ready to head in?" Hank asked over his shoulder.

"Just a second," he responded. Hank looked back to see that Connor was in the process of shoving his new stuffed turtle into his shirt. It was made increasingly difficult with the seatbelt in place, but the kid seemed adamant that he wanted to keep his new toy dry.

He rolled his eyes. "Give it here," he instructed, reaching out for the stuffed animal. Connor handed it over without question and Hank tucked it into his own coat for safe keeping.

He was tempted to tease the kid about it, but didn't. It was natural for kids to get attached to things like that after all. Cole had a plush green rabbit that he'd been particularly fond of.

Besides, Hank figured, with his own ragged sock monkey tucked away in his closet, he didn't have much of a leg to stand on.

"Alright, it's as protected as it's gonna get," he announced. "Let's get our asses inside."

Connor smiled and nodded, ready to face the storm now that he didn't need to worry about his turtle.

Hank was actually quite proud of himself that he kept it mostly dry in the mad dash into the house. He handed it back to the kid once they were safely out of the rain. "There ya go, safe and sound."

"Thank you!" The way Connor's face lit up as he took it back was enough to make him smile too. He sincerely hoped that Connor could keep some of this childlike innocence even once he was back in his normal body. Kid deserved it. He was only a year old, after all.

Hank took off his coat, ready to put up his feet and be done with the day. He tossed it unceremoniously onto the couch, but it missed, hitting the floor with a wet thunk. "Damn it," he cursed.

"I've got it," Connor offered, helpfully. He set his turtle down on the couch before bending to retrieve the wet mass. But, as he lifted it from the floor, the e-document Hank had stashed in the pocket slid out and clattered to the floor.

He didn't have time to react, to stop him from picking it up. There were mere seconds before it became very evident that Connor recognized exactly what it was.