There's Something Wrong With Me

by skeevy nyx

Connor was content with his self-admitted boring life—he watched his shows, saw his friends sometimes—but the second he stepped through those precinct doors, the job was his only focus. Connor knew his life wasn't typical, or enviable—but he had systems in place, which mostly worked. AU crime drama with personal conflict and introspection, maybe some domestic terrorism... and love?

6. Chapter 6 - Why?

There's Something Wrong With Me – Chapter 6

Why?

Twirling. Spinning. One fluid motion. The pen glided around his fingers and back again. All other noise faded and blurred together, he could only hear the light clicking when the pen slapped over his fingernails. Twirling. Spinning. One fluid motion. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—

"Hey Connor—relax."

He snapped back to the present at Hank's voice. Connor realized he had stopped twirling his pen and was aggressively tapping it on a note pad.

"—Sorry, Hank." Connor set his pen down, tucking his hand under his leg. He noticed he had been bouncing his heel, as well. "I shouldn't have had that coffee. I just feel antsy."

"Hey, you don't gotta apologize to me—I just don't want you gettin' all wound up before we talk to this guy."

Connor stilled his leg, taking an even breath through his nose, then out. "I know." They wouldn't know what was going on until they talked to Jason. Like Hank said, for all they knew Daniel would just go back to his host family, and they would have a heart-to-heart and all forgive each other, and all would be well. But Connor knew there was something missing from the story. There had to be a reason Daniel "freaked out" at the prospect of going back to the Phillips', even to get his medication, which he probably desperately needed by this point. And they didn't even have it anymore—the police did. Damnit—Connor shouldn't have taken it with him. Maybe he could release it back to Jason, or Jason could convince Daniel to come to them himself, instead of going back to the Phillips'. Connor couldn't put his finger on why he had such a bad feeling—he should've been relieved that Daniel had just been staying with his partner the whole time. He just couldn't shake the bad feeling, and it was manifesting itself as fidgeting and "stimming", as the kids called it.

"Well, guess I tap on my leg and shit all the time, but I'm a drummer. Or I was." For some reason, Connor found Hank's "inside voice" oddly comforting. Maybe the low timbre hit his ear in the same way as the fuzzy doom he listened to sometimes… oh no, thinking that reminded Connor against his will of last night, when Hank rumbled out, "Damn, that's too bad" in a scratchy voice like he just woke up. Uggghhhhh Connor did not need that thought right now…

"Oh, you were a drummer?" His brain somehow picked up that last part, and rapidly shifted gears. "When?"

"Oh, from high school to… I dunno, guess I haven't played in a while. At least ten years." Hank ran a hand back through his hair. Connor should have figured, Hank seemed like he would've been a colorful character when he was younger.

"That's interesting—if you asked me to guess what you played, I would've said bass." Connor started softly tapping his pen again without realizing it, then stopped.

"Ha, really?" Hank had an odd smile, smoothing down his beard, which Connor noticed he did often. "Interestin'…" Connor became a bit self-conscious that perhaps there was some stereotype associated with bass players that he wasn't aware of. Hank just struck him as the type to hold everything together behind the scenes—which he supposed also fit a drummer. "Hey, look—" Connor's eyes snapped to the office entrance, and a young man with a mop of brown hair walked in somewhat nervously, stopping to talk to Officer Wilson at the first desk. "Think that's our guy."

"It must be." Connor stood up from his desk, trying to smile warmly. He was hoping Jason would notice him so he wouldn't have to draw more attention by calling out. He had probably never been in a police station before, and was clutching his arms nervously. Officer Wilson jut his chin back over his shoulder at Connor and Hank, and Jason made eye contact with Connor. "Are you looking for Connor Sullivan?" Connor stepped out from behind the desk, and Jason padded over, stopping in front of the chair Connor had set out for him. Connor held out his hand, maintaining his friendliest smile. "Nice to meet you, thank you for coming in."

"Oh… no problem." Jason shook his hand, surprisingly firmly. He licked his lips, looking around briefly. "Can I sit here?"

"Of course." Connor gestured to the chair, sitting back behind his down desk. "This is my partner, Hank. We spoke to Professor Abelman yesterday." Jason's eyes flicked to Hank behind him.

"Hey, good to meet ya." Hank's tone was casual. "You're Jason, right?"

Jason bit down on his lips. Connor wondered if that's how he always looked, as they shared the same nervous habit. "Yeah." Jason was very good-looking up close, he had a darker Mediterranean complexion and light brown eyes, and bouncy hair that made Connor think of a skater or surfer, even though they were several hundred miles from the nearest ocean. "Um…" Jason let out a frustrated noise, scrunching his eyes, leaning back in the chair. "So this is kind of awkward, how much do you guys already know?"

Connor folded his hands on his desk. "Just what Professor Abelman told us." He tried to keep his voice even, relaxed. "I'm sorry for snooping on Daniel's social media. We were just looking for any clue that would help us find him." Connor slid the photo strip he had ready across the desk. "Emma gave us this when we talked to her, so that's how I found it."

Jason looked at the photo, his expression softening somewhat. "I get it, that makes sense." He pushed his thick hair up out of his eyes. It reminded him of Keanu in Bill and Ted. "So, um… Daniel's been staying with me the last few days, but he left this morning." He folded his arms protectively, clutching his biceps. "I thought… I said he should go back home and at least grab his stuff, but he said, 'I'm never going back there!'" His brows furrowed worriedly. "I was trying to calm him down, but he ended up running out." He swiped the side of his nose. "I don't know where he's gonna go. He can't get into their apartment unless they buzz him in."

"Really? He doesn't have a code, or an elevator key?"

"No." Jason snorted. "He can't even get in if they're not home. They're fucking controlling. Oh—sorry."

"No, please, you can speak freely." Connor nodded in solidarity. "I'd like a better understanding of why Daniel left the Phillips' home in the first place, if that's okay with you."

Jason licked his lips again, looking up through his bangs. "Well—they kicked him out, pretty much. They found his prescription in his room like a week ago, then they started snooping in all his shit—and somebody sent him a screenshot of a picture with me in it—and they just lost their shit on him." Jason was bouncing his leg now, clutching his arms. "I don't know what to do. He's freaking out because he doesn't have his prescription. I thought he could just go back there and get his shit and come back, but he flipped out when I even suggested it." His forehead creased, a desperate expression setting in. "I don't think it's a good idea for him to go back there, now. I tried texting him and calling him, but he won't pick up. Fuck—" He leaned forward, pushing his hands up into his hair. "I should've just told him to move in, but my roommates are weird…"

"Hmm. It sounds like a difficult situation." Connor was at a bit of a loss for what to say. "Thank you for telling me." He produced the prescription bottle in its plastic baggy. "We grabbed this hoping we could get more information…" Jason stared at the bottle. "Do you think it would be better off with you?"

"Um…" Jason bounced his leg some more. "—Yeah, I'll take it. If I send him a picture and tell him I have it, he might not go over there."

"Thank you. Would you take this to him, too?" Connor smiled, pushing the photo strip forward on the desk.

Jason stared at it a second. "… Yeah, I'll take it." He slid it a bit closer, but didn't pick it up.

Connor clasped his hands. "Jason, I would like to ask you a serious question." His eyes got a bit big. "Do you have any reason to believe Daniel would be in physical danger if he returned to the Phillips' home?"

Jason stared at Connor, then his eyes darted down and to the side. "I don't know. I didn't think so… but I don't know now." He pressed his hand into the side of his neck, his face scrunched up. "Honestly—" He cut himself off.

Connor was choosing his next words carefully, but Hank beat him to it.

"You think Daniel would be more likely to flip out on them if he went back?" Jason's eyes snapped behind Connor to Hank. Connor had almost forgotten he was sitting there, he had been quiet since he introduced himself. "Sorry, kid—but we have to consider all possibilities here."

Jason scrunched his eyes closed. "I don't know." The statement hung in the air.

Connor scooted to sit up straight in his chair. "I see. Thank you for being candid with us—and I appreciate you coming all the way down here."

"Yeah…" Jason licked his lips again. "I don't know if it'll help, but…" He trailed off.

"Well, what we can do is post officers outside the apartment building, or in the lobby. If they see Daniel come in, they can offer to escort him up to the apartment, for his own safety."

Jason looked a bit taken-aback, but also wary. "You can do that?"

"We can. At this point, I feel it's necessary." Connor nodded to the bottle in Jason's hands. "We can also give that to our posted officer to hand to Daniel himself, if you think that'd be better?"

Jason clutched the bag to his stomach. "Um… no, I'll just hang onto it." He bit down on his lips. "He still needs his passport." He scoffed again. "God—they even keep his passport locked up. It's ridiculous." His eyes snapped up to Connor, looking between him and Hank. "You know they even make him show 'em his bank statements every month? They're crazy—they barely pay him anything to basically be a full-time babysitter. They said living in their precious apartment is payment enough." He rolled his eyes, pushing his hair up angrily. "Fuck—I should have seen this coming."

"Don't blame yourself—or Daniel, either." Connor hoped he sounded empathetic, rather than condescending. He tapped his thumbs together. "Sometimes you don't realize you're trapped in a bad situation until it's too late—or by then, you don't have any other options but to stay. The victim should never blame themselves." Connor noticed Jason twitch at the word "victim". Unfortunately, Daniel was the victim in this situation. He hadn't "gone missing" so much as escaped what sounded like a manipulative, perhaps abusive situation. "I will say, that Daniel has no obligation to return to the Phillips' house. He's a legal adult, and he's not their child—so they have no legal recourse to compel him to stay." Jason was listening intently to Connor's words. "I also want to make it clear that he hasn't committed any crime by leaving—although if he returned under present circumstances, they could say that he's trespassing and ask him to leave. I assume he never signed a lease with them." Jason shook his head. "In that case, we can have an officer accompany him to ensure he's able to grab his passport, and any other personal belongings."

Jason was looking to the side, his hand at his chin. "I'll let him know. I don't even know if he's reading my texts, he doesn't have that turned on." He scrunched his eyes close. "I feel so bad for Emma. It's not her fault her family's fuckin' nuts—she's like Daniel's little sister, he loves her." An uncomfortable lull fell over the desk, and none of them could think of anything else to say.

OOO

Connor sighed. "I feel bad for dragging in Detective Collins. Do you think they'll give him the night off, or let him go home early after this?"

"Hm? Oh, maybe." Hank tossed his squishy stress ball back and forth. "Ben's not married or anything, so honestly he doesn't really care about being called in."

"Oh… I was about to say 'that's good', but…"

Hank laughed. "Ah, he doesn't care." Hank leaned back in his chair, tossing the stress ball up and catching it. "Better to send him than Gavin."

Connor was rubbing his chin. He wished he had gotten to observe Daniel in person, then he might be able to predict his behaviors a little better. But who knows with him suddenly going off his medication… Jason couldn't even predict what he'd do, by the sound of it. "I wonder if we should have asked Jason not to tell Daniel that there'd be an officer waiting at the apartment." Connor let his eyes close. "He might just run away when he sees him."

"Why? It's not like he did anything. Ben's just there to help him out and make sure things don't get ugly, like you said."

"I guess so…"

Hank caught his stress ball, crushing it between his palms. "Connor, don't worry about it. I know Ben's a little old, but I trust him with this as much as any of these other guys. Well, except for you-know-who." Connor couldn't help but laugh. He was glad Gavin couldn't hear them from his desk… but he also secretly worried Gavin was pretending not to be able to hear them, since that absurdly offensive thing Hank said earlier was obviously meant to provoke a reaction. Connor couldn't tell if Gavin was capable of that much self-awareness or foresight, though.

"Yeah… you're probably right." Connor realized he had been fingering his tie, and smoothed it down. "I hope Ben can just go with Daniel to get his stuff, and he just leaves for good, honestly. I know Jason said his roommates were 'weird' but… anything has to be better than having your bank statements tracked. No wonder he took out all that cash." Connor realized he'd just been thinking out loud. Then he had another downer thought—"Unless by 'weird', he means 'homophobic'." Connor pressed his palms into his eyes, sliding down his chair. "Uggghh. I don't envy their position at all. I just wish I could help."

Hank laughed softly. "I think you've done a lot. I'm sure the kid understands." Hank's words were reassuring, actually, but Connor still couldn't help but feel guilty… maybe he should have volunteered to stake out the apartment instead. But he and Hank decided it was better to stick around in case Jason, Professor Abelman, or even Daniel himself called or came in. That, and they did have other things they needed to be doing—they still had a huge stack of reports to file and follow up on. Daniel's had just been their biggest priority. "But man—that Daniel kid must be pretty smooth." Connor lifted his hands off his eyes, turning to Hank. Hank jerked his head to the side in indication. "That guy was a looker, huh? He didn't even look gay. Ah—" He pursed his lips. "—you know what I mean."

Connor laughed lightly. "I do know what you mean." Josh often poked fun at Markus for being a, um, "straight-acting light skin N-word", or some combination thereof. With an -a, obviously. Sometimes Markus would call him "darkness" after that Charlie Murphy skit. Connor always felt a little weird laughing, but the way they would rapid-fire this stuff back and forth was just really funny. Connor liked Josh, the more he thought about it—though they didn't directly interact much when he was over. Connor could acknowledge that he could be a little shy, or from his perspective, absorbed with listening and forgetting he wasn't actively participating in the conversation.

… Connor really hoped everything worked out. After meeting Jason, and hearing him get so mad talking about the Phillips' controlling behavior, it made him feel a bit better about the situation, honestly. He wished he had Daniel's number so he could tell him, "Your boyfriend really cares about you—just ditch the Phillips and go live with him." But he didn't know what Jason's living situation was like, and it would probably break Daniel's heart to not be able to see Emma anymore… If the Phillips were that controlling, they'd probably burn that bridge completely, and threaten him to never attempt to contact or see Emma ever again. "Uggghhh. I hope it all works out."

Hank laughed. "Connor, you've done all you can, and then some. It's up to the kid what he wants to do now." Hank was hunting and pecking his keys, which drove Connor crazy. How could he have never learned to type properly, even if it was slow? "Hey, I'm just glad we found him alive instead of washed up on the Riverwalk."

"Ugh. I don't even want to imagine it."

"Well… unfortunately Connor, I've seen it before." Hank was looking at his keyboard while he pecked. "So be glad that wasn't the case this time." Connor absently watched Hank's calloused fingers plunk the keys. His skin was pretty thick and full of deep lines, huh… Why did Connor even think that? The back-and-forth emotions with this case was scrambling his brain. "Hey, uh, Connor." Connor's eyes snapped up to Hank's face. He wasn't actually looking at him, just his monitor. "You mind if I ask you somethin'?" Hank's eyes flicked around. No one was particularly close to them, and Gavin was nowhere to be seen. It seemed like he headed out a while ago, actually.

"Go ahead."

Hank rubbed his beard. "You think… What do you think the professor said when he recommended the kid come in and talk to us?" Hank finally looked at Connor's face. "You reckon he, uh, 'clocked' you?"

Connor leaned his head in his hand. "Probably. To be honest, that's kind of what I was hoping for." He closed his eyes, finding Hank's eye contact a little intimidating. "I was hoping that he'd be more likely to reach out to us if he felt I was on Daniel's side. So to speak."

"Ah. I get it." Hank grunted a bit, like he was shifting his posture in his chair. "Well, then you don't have to feel bad for 'clocking' yourself yesterday, 'cause it probably woulda come out anyway." Connor laughed.

"You might be right." A quiet fell over the desk, but a comfortable quiet, oddly enough. "… You know, I actually don't mind." Connor opened his eyes, peering around the station with an odd sense of detachment. It was hard to describe—almost that fuzzy feeling when you've just had one light beer, something's a little different, but it's almost imperceptible. "It's not as terrifying as I thought it'd be. I wonder why?"

Hank swiveled his chair back and forth. "Who knows? Maybe it's just 'cause I'm such a cool and chill dude."

Connor laughed. "Maybe."

"… So you didn't tell anyone at your last station?"

"No." Connor found himself mirroring the swivel, his hands resting lightly on the armrests. "I like to keep my personal and professional life very separate."

"Hm, I can see that." Another comfortable silence fell over the desk. For some reason… Connor felt really mellow. He didn't know what to think after that whole mess at Hank's house—but Hank wasn't treating him weirdly, or any differently at all, really. Connor had been so worried that they'd crossed a line—not like that, but like a professional line. Connor still couldn't believe that Hank had called him, of all people—he had never even been to his house before. Shit, they didn't even know each other until what, four days ago? That was pretty wild, now that Connor thought about it—he hadn't gone over to someone else's house other than North and Markus' for… years, not since college. York and Jayden didn't live locally, so they came over to Connor's place on their rare visits to the Midwest—or got a hotel room, in Jayden's case. Connor knew not to take it personally—Jayden was just kind of weird that way. Not that Connor had any room to talk.

Connor drummed his fingers on the desk. He should ask them both how they're doing. Jayden had been all over the news somewhat recently for that crazy Origami Killer case—Connor had texted him to congratulate him on catching the guy, but he was waiting for all the media buzz to die down before bugging him again. York's last big case was a few years back—the Raincoat Killer, was that what they called it? Some wild shit out in the Pacific Northwest—a corrupt Sheriff murdering young girls in a ritual sacrifice, it honestly seemed like something out of Twin Peaks. Both of them had encouraged and insisted that Connor try out for the FBI, but honestly he really didn't want to be caught up in crazy stuff like that. And the thought of traveling alone to weird small towns made him antsy. York seemed to love the place though, whatever it was called. Green-something.

Connor glanced back at Captain Fowler's office. He was glad nobody here seemed sketchy or overtly corrupt, at least not from what Connor could observe—the only joker in the pack was Gavin, and Hank seemed to keep a pretty close eye on him. The light bouncing off the Captain's glass walls was mesmerizing—what did Hank call it, a fish tank? Maybe if Connor ever got the Captain for a white elephant gift exchange, he'd get him one of those little castles or guys in a scuba suit. "What's so funny, Connor?"

"What?" Connor looked up to Hank, realizing he had a goofy little smile. "Oh… I was just thinking about how you called Captain Fowler's office a fish tank, and how it'd be funny to get him one of those little castles or something as a gift." Hank laughed. "Or a guy wearing a scuba suit, or a mermaid."

"Hey, he'd probably like a mermaid. Sitting on a big pile of treasure." Hank rubbed his beard, grinning. "I'll keep it in mind for Christmas. We always do a Secret Santa-type thing, but I'll get 'im a little something on the side. Maybe just leave it on his desk with no wrapping."

"That'd be pretty good." Connor found himself smiling. He was actually looking forward to that, he could see himself staying at the Detroit precinct for a while.

Hank gave him a genuine smile. "Glad to see you in a better mood." Connor had to look away, feeling slightly embarrassed. He tried to think of something to say, but he was drawing a blank. "Hey—are there any of those fancy shake places nearby?"

Connor looked back up. "What, like a Samba Juice?"

"Yeah—I wanna try it." Hank's eyebrows raised, and he rubbed his gut with both hands. "That fuckin' pineapple shake really kicked my ass. I think it's turned me off of 'em forever." Connor gave him a flat look. "I know what you wanna say." Hank rolled his eyes. "That's why I'm willing to at least try your fancy shit, okay?"

Connor got out his phone, feeling himself smirk. "I can look it up."

"Heugh, Jesus—if that shake woulda made me throw up faster, I wouldn't have had such a horrible night." Connor was conscious of the fact that Hank was probably looking at him while he said it, and he found himself swiping wrong while trying to look for a smoothie place. "But it coulda been a helluva lot worse—thanks again for comin' in clutch, Connor."

"No problem." Honestly Connor hoped that would be the last they talked about it. He couldn't be sure exactly what Hank remembered about that night—he was pretty sure Hank was out cold and probably dreaming, when he struck like a cobra and grabbed Connor's hand, assumedly mistaking him for his ex-wife when he said "baby"… at least, Connor hoped so. Ugh, geez—the thought of it was making his face red. "Oh, man—it was cold when I first got here, but now I think they have the heat turned on too high." He said it without looking up from his phone, hoping to sound casual.

"Ah, it's always like that. Takes a while for this whole place to warm up, then it's like a damn sauna until it regulates again. It's either one or the other, Connor—that's why you should always dress light, but bring a jacket."

"I'll keep that in mind." Connor kept moving his thumb around his phone screen, even though he had found a good place nearby. "Well, there is one within walking distance, it might actually be closer than the food carts yesterday."

"All right, let's go then!"

Connor looked up. "Right now?"

"Yeah, why not?" Hank pushed back his chair. "Unless you wanna wait? Just consider it a break."

Connor let the edge of his phone rest in the space under his lip. "Okay, sure. That sounds good, actually."

"All right, we're in business!" Hank stood up, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. "Lead the way, Connor."

"Sure." Connor stood up as well, throwing on his lighter suit jacket instead. He thought he caught Hank look away from him suddenly, but it could've been a coincidence. Well… Connor wasn't going to think anything definitively yet, but there was a small part of his brain that was filing away certain things the Lieutenant did and said. Just for observational purposes.

Connor led the way out of the office, looking for Wanda at the front, but she was on the phone. He gave her a friendly wave, and she noticed him and returned it with a sweet smile. She then pointed at both her eyes, turning her finger around to point at Hank.

"Hey!"

Connor couldn't help but laugh, though he tried not to do it too loud. He found himself thinking that this partnership wasn't so bad… he didn't know how long a detective like him would be partnered up with the Lieutenant… but he hoped it'd at least be for a while.

OOO

Connor was gazing out the window at the beautiful orange color the sunset was staining the sky. He really liked the large windows in the precinct, and how open the building felt in general. Even though the winter sun was setting ridiculously early, he could still enjoy the view. His antsy feeling never quite went away… but at least he wasn't bouncing his leg or neurotically tapping his pen. He had felt more relaxed after coming back from their break… Hank even said he liked his peach smoothie, even though he drank it too fast and gave himself brain freeze. Connor had felt… it was a hard feeling to describe. He spent most of his time alone, and did most of his errands alone, and ate most of his meals alone. That's probably why he talked to his cat so much. So when he actually went to the store with North or Markus, and other people could see him outside doing stuff, he felt like, "Yeah, I am a normal person who does things." Connor imagined that would sound pretty weird to most "normal" people. But whatever it was, he got that same feeling when he went out and had lunch with Hank. They were just coworkers walking and talking, grabbing a bite and then heading back to work. Such a simple thing most people would take for granted was a precious shred of normalcy, to Connor. North had tried to get him to stop saying "normal" so much, and switch to "neurotypical", "common", or "basic" if that made him feel better—but "normal" was just how he always viewed it. It, being not himself.

"Aha! Knew she had one!" Hank was grinning widely at his phone. "Hey Connor—check it out." Hank leaned over the desk, showing Connor his phone screen. Connor leaned in to get a better view—"Pretty handsome guy, huh?"

"Oh, wow—that's you?" He could tell it was Hank by his face shape, and his eyes and eyebrows. His hair was actually dirty blonde, and pulled back in a loose bun. He almost looked like a surfer—his drumsticks were blurred mid-action, and he was half-turned to the side at whoever was taking the picture, a wide open-mouthed smile on his face. He had a shortly-trimmed beard, also dirty blonde but darker than his hair. He was obviously younger, but his face still looked mature for a guy in his twenties or thirties, if that made sense. Connor couldn't help but notice his huge arms and biceps at the angle he was hitting the drums—actually, he didn't have a shirt on at all, upon closer inspection. But he was wearing cargo shorts, of all things, and giant high-top Converse. For some reason Connor had expected him to be wearing Crocs, or sandals with socks. It literally looked like someone snapped a picture of a physical photograph, it was a little out of focus and there was a sheen on the glossy surface.

"Hey, you don't have to say it like that!"

"I'm just surprised, you look so different with blonde hair. How old were you?"

"Shit—thirty-two, thirty-three? Somewhere around there." Hank turned his phone back, grinning at it. "This was around the time I met Andrea, I asked her to send it to me—oh, Andrea's my ex-wife, don't know if I mentioned that."

"You did." Shoot—Connor couldn't remember if Hank had mentioned it to him sober or not. Well, he at least mentioned he was divorced when he showed Connor that picture with his son.

"Yeah." Hank looked like he was zooming in on the picture. "Where does the time go, shit."

Connor hoped it didn't seem nosy to ask. "So you still get along pretty well?"

"What, me and Andrea? Well, yeah—we have to, for Cole." His smile lessened somewhat. "I guess we get along fine, long as I don't give her somethin' to chew me out for. Heugh—" He almost shivered. "I was so fuckin' high I almost called her to come take care of me, wouldn't that be a shitshow." He tucked his phone away. "I'm sure that new boyfriend of hers woulda loved that. Then I remembered, 'Oh yeah, we're divorced.'"

"Hm." Connor definitely picked up the phrasing "take care of me". So his stoned ass was about to call his ex-wife, and the next best thing was Connor, is that right? Hank made it sound like he hadn't attempted to call anyone else—he made it clear he didn't want his neighbor to feel bad for giving him that edible in the first place. "Do you think she still would have come, if you had actually called her?"

Hank exhaled, his eyes unfocused at the desk. "Yeah, probably." He ran a hand back through his hair. "She just would've given me hell for it." He propped his chin in his hand, then dug out his phone again. "I'm making her sound like kind of a bitch—she's not." Connor almost laughed, despite himself. "I just exhausted her patience for me a long time ago. So to answer your question—yeah, we get along fine. She doesn't hate my guts or anything." He demonstratively waved his phone. "I mean look—I asked her if she could send me this random picture, and she did. But she did ask why." He smirked at his phone. "I said, 'I wanted to show off when I was still sexy.'" He laughed to himself, probably looking at the picture again.

Now, Connor considered himself very good at profiling people when it was related to police work. Even York said he would make a good profiler. He also felt like he was sensitive to bad vibes, awkward vibes, and having a bad gut feeling. But what he had always been bad at, was telling when someone was being genuine with him, or whether they were fucking with him. He wasn't sure when he met Chris again yesterday, although he ended up falling on the side of "genuine". But that quality of Connor's also made him bad at telling when someone was flirting with him. That, and even when it was obvious to blind dogs, Connor would usually be too shy or awkward to acknowledge it or reciprocate. He had actually spent the better part of the last ten years actively avoiding flirting with anyone, or acknowledging their interest when they did try. Now, in a vacuum—if Connor didn't know Hank, and someone had listed out all these little interactions to him: the warm smiles and lingering looks, paying for lunch instead of splitting the bill, wanting to show Connor a picture from when he was young and fit, with no shirt on, and around Connor's age—calling him to "take care of him" when he hardly knew the guy—and the biggest one of all, the "Damn, that's too bad" in a husky voice… He could just hear North going, "Oh my God Connor, this guy is so flirting with you!" It was all giving a certain vibe, that's all Connor knew. But—Hank was an older man, somewhat recently divorced—and statistically speaking he probably didn't know that many gay guys, or at least he hadn't mentioned it—so Connor could conclude that Hank was probably lonely, and any attention was good attention—even the idea of a gay man thinking he was attractive would flatter his crusty old self-esteem. Markus had said that whenever a straight guy friend of his found out he wasn't straight—they almost always asked if he found them attractive. And if he said no, not really, they'd almost get their feelings hurt, and try to play it off like, "Why, what's wrong with me?" That's the kind of vibe it was giving Connor. Why else would Hank show him that picture with his guns out? It wasn't a video—the purpose of it wasn't to show off his playing. He had literally just said it, even if he was being sarcastic—"I wanted to show off when I was still sexy."

Well… if Hank wanted the attention, Connor would give it to him. That would help Connor decide which side to come down on between "genuine" and "being fucked with". And to be honest, he just wanted to see Hank's reaction.

Connor tilted his face down, giving Hank a knowing look. "Hank, did you show me that picture because you wanted me to say you looked really handsome?"

Hank didn't look up, but his lips split into a lopsided grin. "Whaat? Nah." He said it with the same sarcastic tone as when he told Chris he'd never talk shit about him—familiar, playful. But then Hank swiped his palm down his beard a few times—like he was trying to cover his mouth. If Connor didn't know better, he'd say Hank looked a little embarrassed, like a kid who had just been caught and was bad at lying.

Connor couldn't resist. "Are you sure, Hank? I mean, you're not even wearing a shirt."

"Well, yeah! Who'd want to deprive all the singles in Detroit of this gun show?" "Singles"? Not "single ladies"? Well, maybe Connor was stretching it with one.

Connor sighed purposefully loudly. "Well, it'd be inappropriate for me to answer during working hours." He left it at that, knowing it would drive Hank crazy. There was a palpable second of silence.

"Well... what about after?" Connor just shrugged, facing his monitor. "Aw, c'mon Connor! Ahh, shit!" Connor had to stop himself from laughing, willing his expression to stay neutral. "Way to keep a guy in suspense!" It looked like Hank pressed his hands into his forehead dramatically, from the corner of his eye. Oh, whoops—Connor had been having too much fun, he didn't think to check if anyone was nearby or listening in. Someone probably was, with Hank's loud-ass voice, but... oh, well.

Connor started tapping soundlessly on his leg. Honestly... as dicey as the whole situation was, Connor couldn't help but admire Daniel's small step of bravery. He had showed the world on a public account the two most important people to him, and showed a bit of himself that he was, justifiably, terrified of showing. Maybe Connor could stand to be a little less afraid of everyone finding out, and looking at him differently—he just had to be so confident and so competent that no one could say anything to him about it. Not even that fucker Gavin—although if he cornered Connor and called him a little faggot or whatever, maybe he could get him fired. Connor wasn't sure why he was railing against Gavin so much, the guy had barely said five words to him—maybe he was just jumping on Hank's bandwagon and finding it funny to dunk on him, too. And well... Connor was definitely clockable by other gays, but if even an older man like Hank said it was kinda obvious, maybe there was no point in being so paranoid about it. Maybe he just shouldn't worry about it at all, and if it came out—oh, well. He'd deal with it or play it off then.

Connor noticed he was bouncing his leg. The thought of it still made him a little nervous. Connor just... didn't like being looked down on. He didn't want to be looked down on because of his age, or his appearance—that would just give the kind of assholes who would look down on him one more—wait a second. A white-hot thought struck through Connor's brain like lightning—why should he give a shit what people who already wanted to look down on him thought? He wasn't gonna please them anyway—so why give a shit? Holy... it was so simple. Connor had always heard platitudes like "You shouldn't care what other people think"—but this was his first time internalizing it.

"Connor?" Yeah... yeah! Seriously, who gives a fuck what some homophobic assholes think—they were just wrong. Their view of life was incompatible with Connor's, so why should he place stock in what they thought of him? Oh my god... "Hey, Connor?"

"Oh—what?" Connor snapped back, and Hank had this look of concern with this odd grin. Connor's heart was beating a little fast. "I'm sorry Hank—did you ask me something?"

"Yeah, but..." He stroked his beard, his grin stretching into a laugh. "You're grinnin' like the Cheshire Cat over there. Care to share?"

"Oh, um—actually, I was just thinking something." He clasped his hands, letting his steepled fingers press against his lips. "Why should I care so much what other people think of me?" He let the question hang in the air.

"Yeah? Good question, why should you care?"

Connor raked a hand back through his hair. "I don't know." He smiled genuinely, with a bit of light-hearted excitement. "It just came to me." He became aware that Hank was still looking right at him. "Oh, sorry—what did you ask me, Hank?"

"Me? Oh, well..." He sheepishly looked down at his phone. "I wanted to ask if you could show me how to set this to the background on my phone." He looked up, rolling his eyes at himself. "I wanna see it every morning to remind myself I used to be this guy."

Connor smiled. "Sure." He held his hand out. "Oh—do you want me to show you how, or just do it for you?"

"Ah, just do it for me. Thanks." Hank almost handed off his phone, then jerked it back. "—whoops, let me get rid of all my naked pictures." Connor almost choked. Hank laughed loudly. "Ha, just fuckin' with ya! I don't got those, who would I send 'em to, anyway?" Hank handed off his phone, and Connor took it with exaggerated hesitation.

"That's not going to be the first thing I see when I bring up your photos, is it?"

"Nah. I don't take many pictures with it, anyway." Hank scratched his chin through his beard. "Andrea was always the one takin' pictures." Connor found where Hank put his Photos shortcut after a second. His home screen was a mess, with video poker apps and two different weather widgets, and other old man stuff. "Probably just a bunch of pictures of Cole and Sumo, maybe a lake or two." Indeed, the most recent photos were of his son, and Sumo asleep on his side. Connor didn't want to look too much.

"How zoomed in do you want it?"

"Ah, whatever'll fit on there. Just make sure you get the drums, too." Connor rolled his eyes, and decided not to crop the photo at all. It wasn't a very good-quality shot, but it would probably still make Hank happy. "Damn, I miss that set..."

"Oh, you don't still have it?"

"Nah. I actually sold it a while back, just didn't have room for it. Plus I haven't played in so long."

"I see. That's too bad." Connor set the background, and scooted Hank's apps to the side while keeping them in the same order, so Hank could see himself better. "All right, how's that?" He handed the phone back to Hank.

He grinned widely. "Yeah! What a sexy beast." Connor rolled his eyes.

"You know, if you can ask Andrea to bring you that original photo, I can take a higher quality picture of it without the glare."

Hank regarded his phone for a second, rubbing his chin. "Nah. I kinda like it this way—it actually looks like a real photo."

"That's fair."

Hank looked up. "I haven't had a mid-life crisis yet, but you'll know if I do 'cause there'll be a big-ass drum set in my living room." Connor chuckled.

"Hank!" Captain Fowler's voice cut sharply across the station, a phone to his ear. "Shots fired at fifteen fifty-four Park Avenue apartments." Connor's stomach sank. That was the Phillips' apartment building. "You and Connor, get there now. I've got a SWAT team on the way." His heart was pounding in his ears. How did this happen—why?!

"What the fuck—is Ben up there?!"

The Captain palmed down his mouth. "Sounds like your missing person slipped past him. Neighbors called in the shots." He listened intently. "Ben's up there now. The kid shot someone and took a hostage." Holy fuck.

"Fuck!" Hank rounded the desk. "Let's go, Connor! I'll drive!" Connor was feeling that uncanny detachment—but it wasn't pleasant. So many thoughts were swirling in his head, every sound in the room felt slow and far away—how did he slip past Ben, why, how did he get his hands on a gun? What had happened to make him shoot—did the Phillips have a gun? Who was shot and who was the hostage? Fuck, fuck...

Connor followed Hank out the back door to the garage, numb. Why was this happening?

OOO

OOO

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:( Violence content warning for the next chapter.

Sorry to everyone who was enjoying all the flirty scenes DX