\(: Sweater :)/
"Alright, let's get this over with…"
"Hank, we don't have to do this." Connor returns the gift from his lap to the space beneath the tree, casting a concerned gaze on the Lieutenant who sits between the two androids in their triangle on the floor. "If you'd prefer we not make a big deal out of it we can open them later or when you're asleep."
Connor's attachment showing itself again. They both figured that another Christmas without his family would leave the Lieutenant in a sour mood. They'd agreed beforehand to do whatever he asks, within reason of course. All Connor wants is to see the man who saved him happy. All he wants is to see the man who shot him shut up and accept his predecessor's affection.
With a huff the Lieutenant grabs the gift Connor had just returned and shoves it back into the android's lap. "It's fine." It's obviously not. He's trying to power through for the sake of his housemates. "Just wasn't sure what to get you two. Not sure you'll like 'em." an excuse if there ever was one but he's not about to acknowledge it and make the man's mood even worse.
Connor offers that familiar soft smile. "I will like anything you get me, Hank. How could I not enjoy a gift from you?"
He rolls his eyes. "Quit being a sap and open it, Connor."
His predecessor looks down at the gift, a messily wrapped shiny green box with way too much tape, reads the tag, announces it's from the Lieutenant, and methodically peels off the tape to properly open the gift without ripping the wrapping paper.
"Oh for god's sake Connor you can rip it..." the Lieutenant reaches forward to help, thinks better of it, and pulls his hand back.
Connor blinks owlishly at him, a slight head tilt, and looks back down at the gift. For once he wants his predecessor to listen to the Lieutenant or they'll be here all night. Finally with a determined nod Connor rips the rest of the paper off and opens the box. With a gasp and delighted grin he pulls forth a bright yellow sweater with a large cartoonish smiling dog printed on the front. Connor immediately puts it on over his t-shirt and just beams. "Thank you, Hank! It's wonderful!"
"It's hideous." he comments before the Lieutenant can reply.
Unfortunately the smug grin he gets while being handed a poorly tied white bag with a lot of blue ribbon has him worried. It's a soft bag so the gift must be fabric. It's also from the Lieutenant. "You didn't have to get me anything."
"Oh but I did."
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STRESS LEVELS ^
84%
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Connor and the Lieutenant watch with rapt attention as he opens the bag, reaches inside, and pulls out a sweater of his own; black with red and white snowflakes and detailing and written in large white letters, NAUGHTY UNTIL PROVEN NICE.
He deflates.
Meanwhile the Lieutenant is trying not to crack up and Connor is stifling a giggle behind a hand. With a loud and obnoxious sigh he pulls it over his head, knowing that the Lieutenant will be on his case until he joins Connor in the hideous sweater club. At least his has a police pun. The one positive. Once it's on he gives the Lieutenant a flat stare. "Happy?" he deadpans.
"You look great, kid."
"It is rather fitting." Connor observes, looking him up and down in the offending garment. "I think Hank chose well."
"I think Hank can fuck off." he gripes, crossing his arms and glaring at his predecessor.
He can catch Connor's disappointed frown before the ensuing, "That's not a good attitude toward someone who has been so kind to you."
He barks a laugh. "Oh that's funny! You think it all makes up for attempted murder?"
"Yes! Hank has done nothing but help since you showed up again! And I forgave you for attempted murder! People can change!"
"You didn't end up permanently damaged!"
"BOYS!" At the loudest voice in the room both androids cease arguing and turn to the Lieutenant who continues in a quieter tone, "Thank you. Now Connor he's got every right to be forever pissed at me. I would be too in his position." The glance he receives before focusing on Connor sends an uncomfortable crackle through his system. "But that doesn't mean you need to argue about it. You can have different opinions without shouting at each other, okay?"
Connor shifts his gaze to the floor. "My apologies, Hank."
"Thank you. And you," Impressive glare, Lieutenant. "Need to stop antagonizing your brother. Your problem is with me. Don't drag him into it. Got it?"
An overdramatic eyeroll that utilizes his entire head, shoulders slumping but arms remain folded, as he falls back against the couch like a grumpy teenager. "Yes, Lieutenant." Why is that electric buzz still there?
"How the fuck do people handle twins..." the Lieutenant mutters to himself.
In an effort to get things back on track, and likely to make peace between them before the Lieutenant decides to start drinking, Connor reaches for another gift under the tree. "Perhaps we should open the rest?"
The Lieutenant looks over at Connor as if his train of thought just shut down. "Huh? Oh, sure. Who's that one from?"
The gift in Connor's hands is a red box, perfectly wrapped. He would know. "It's from me." he says, voice muffled as he slides down the front of the couch, new sweater riding up and covering his mouth. Hm. Despite the terrible fashion the material is soft, warm, and seems to quell the crackle of electricity that's been running through him since the argument.
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STRESS LEVELS v
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"Oh, thank you!" Connor proceeds to work the tape off for a moment until he apparently recalls the Lieutenant's words and just rips the paper. He pulls out a foot-long plush tropical fish and like yesterday at New Jericho the way his eyes light up…
Sometimes all he needs in life is to see his predecessor happy.
"Thank you! It's so soft!" Connor exclaims, hugging the toy to his chest.
"Whaddya gonna name it?" The Lieutenant asks.
Connor ponders it for a moment before blurting out, "Dewey."
The Lieutenant chuckles. "As good a name as any for a fish. Which one next?"
The next few gifts that get chosen are all from the Lieutenant to Connor and vice-versa so he tunes them out, sinking deeper into his sweater until he's almost flat on the floor. It's not a problem. Maybe the gift isn't a problem either. He still hates how stupid it looks but the police joke is amusing. And it's quite comfortable.
He'd never understood the need for more clothes. He had his uniform. Beyond that only one set of clothing was necessary while said uniform was cleaned. And then the Lieutenant had taken him shopping. The first time he'd ever discovered his preferences. Formalwear remains at the top of his list but he might have to reorganize and push sweaters up. The soft warmth of the fabric as it hugs his synthetic skin, almost like a real hug…
Ah. Maybe that's it. Despite rarely returning the gesture he greatly appreciates Connor's hugs. Though this fashion disaster of a gift is from the Lieutenant if he closes his eyes and moves his arms just right, he can earn the same feeling without Connor. It's pleasant.
And the longer he stays suffused in the fabric the dimmer that uncomfortable crackle becomes until the only electricity in his system is what is meant to be there.
"Last one." The Lieutenant's voice echoes in his ears as he is shaken, the large hand on his shoulder jostling him out of the beginnings of standby mode.
"So?"
"It's yours."
"Another shitty sweater?"
"You seem to be liking this one. Almost passed out in it." The Lieutenant smirks. "And no, it's from Connor."
He sits up properly and tugs the sweater down from his face to see his predecessor push a gift across the floor with the hand not holding Dewey; a box, neatly wrapped, Cyberlife blue. Connor knows his favorite color.
Unlike his predecessor he tears into the paper first thing, adding the remnants to the growing pile beside the couch. A glance inside the box and he locks up.
"Are you okay?" Connor's voice is muffled.
"Yeah kid, you good?" The Lieutenant's voice seems to be coming from another room.
Everything goes quiet, vision tunneling in on the contents of the box; three guns. Androids are not allowed to have guns. Connor has used them on cases but only by stealing them. This doesn't make sense. He scans them against every database he can access. No matches. Finally, slowly, he reaches inside and pulls each one out, closely examining them. Oh.
An airsoft gun.
A foam dart gun.
A water gun.
All designed to look real but with enough differences that he won't be arrested.
He turns to Connor and sees a slight slouch, a tight hug of Dewey, furrowed brows, and a miniscule head tilt. Nervousness. In turn he tries to allay this with a manic grin as he tests the feel of the airsoft gun in his hand by pointing it around the room. "This is perfect." He eagerly swaps it out for the dart gun, then the water gun, testing each in turn. "They're all perfect." The manic grin is then trained back on Connor. "You know me so well!"
Though the Lieutenant looks rather horrified it quickly fades to exasperation. "Don't go shootin' anything in the house, you got that?"
"Yes, Lieutenant!"
Connor stands up, shifting Dewey to a one-armed grasp. "Care to test your aim on some water balloons in the yard?"
He hasn't had a chance to shoot anything outside of VR since rebooting in Cyberlife Tower. "Obviously." And ignoring the Lieutenant's protest he grabs the airsoft gun and rushes toward the back door and out into the cold night air. He can just hear Connor reasoning with the Lieutenant back in the house, then the sink being used at the same time as something large falling onto the couch.
None of that matters.
He can finally do something right.
Thanks to Connor.
He tugs the collar of his stupid sweater up to enjoy the warmth while he waits on his predecessor. Despite their argument this night went better than expected. He got two incredible gifts. Yes, two. He will give the Lieutenant endless shit for his taste in fashion but the sweater is soft and warm and that's really all he cares about. And it fits his attitude. And the police joke is humorous. Alright fine he likes the sweater. He just won't ever admit it to the Lieutenant's face. He can't. He won't let himself.
He is winter.
It's all he's ever known.
The thaw is slow,
But spring is on the horizon,
Heralded by a cargo ship, a lava flow, and a plastic cop.
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"I've got the balloons! I'll toss them and you fire. Let's see if you're still an excellent shot!"
"I'm at least as skilled as you."
"Care to take that bet?"
"You're on."
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He is winter.
But winter need not be cold.
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Author's Note: Once again, Merry Christmas!
Also, Connor's sweater is my original creation but Sixty's is all too real. The second I saw it I knew it had to be done XD
Replace the spaces with periods to have a look at it:
www tipsyelves com/mas_assets/cache/image/4/d/5/b/19803/Mens-sweater-naughty-nice-02 Jpg