This work was written for SweetEaterCat as part of the Break Room's Holiday Exchange 2024.
I couldn't believe my luck when I saw Hankins on the list of requests!
I hope you enjoy reading!
Don't forget to R&R, much love!
"Hank!" The yell was accompanied by the click of expensive shoes and then a body collided with him. A relatively small body. Warm. Human. With their difference in size, it wasn't enough to knock him over, but it was enough to make him stumble a few paces. The gunshot rang out less than a second later and the smaller body slumped to the ground. Hank turned on impulse, firing his gun at the building the shots had come from. SWAT had already closed ranks, crouching behind cars and armoured vehicles, looking for a way to get closer.
"Shit, man down!" Hank yelled as he dropped to his knees to get a closer look at the FBI agent, who was currently lying unmoving on his front. Looking around, Hank searched for cover. They were still exposed, but SWAT was holding off the shooter. If he fired again, he'd expose his hiding place. Hank was pretty sure the guy was aiming to scare them. There was no way he could take out a whole unit. He probably wanted to keep them on edge while he ran away, which was something SWAT had already factored into their plans.
There was a groan. A small, pathetic sound as the body stirred. Hank cursed under his breath, relief sweeping through him. He steadied the younger man as he heaved himself up on his good shoulder and rolled on to his back. His face was scrunched in pain, which was hardly surprising. After the initial impact, the shock would wear off to be replaced with searing pain. He was already shaking as he reached up and set a hand on his injured shoulder. Red soon pooled between his fingers and Hank cursed again as he took over, resting a large hand over the wound and looking for help.
"What the fuck were you thinking, idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" A few weeks ago, he wouldn't have minded, but as it happened, he was getting rather fond of the little prick. The agent seemed to understand something of his thoughts as he huffed, his chestnut eyes creasing with pain as Hank settled his full weight on the injury.
"C-could say the-same about you. Almost got-shot in the-back!" A strangled groan of pain slipped out as Hank's hands shifted. His palms were warm and wet, but his weight seemed to be stemming the flow. It wouldn't stop it, but hopefully, he could hold the wound shut long enough for a medical team to arrive. The good thing was, he didn't think the bullet had hit an artery. If it had, he'd probably be dead already.
"Listen, you smug little prick, this is no time for you to play the hero!" The agent was too busy gritting his teeth to respond as a second set of clicking footsteps joined them. Looking up, Hank was relieved to see Connor ducking towards them, staying low lest the shooter notice his approach.
"Hank! Agent Perkins, is he…" Looking down, Connor was able to run his own scan to check. It was nice to see he was alive, and as his LED blinked yellow, he was able to confirm that the damage was less than severe. He'd need to go to hospital, and he'd be off work for a few weeks, but there was a ninety-three point six percent chance he'd make a full recovery.
"Never mind me, what about Evans?" Terrance Evans, the suspected terrorist they'd been tracking. From what they'd found so far, he had a massive EMP hidden somewhere in the city centre. If that thing went off, it would knock out electrical devices for miles. Half the fucking city would go dark, including Cyberlife Tower and every single android within range. The EMP could be on a switch or a timer. Either way, they needed Evans alive. It could be stashed anywhere. A basement, a van, a warehouse. If we don't find it…
"SWAT believe they have the building secured. He won't get away." It was good he wouldn't get away, but they needed to take that fucker alive. If he died, they didn't stand a chance of finding the device in time. It wasn't just that it would kill androids; there were hospitals in range, building sites and factories with working machinery, computers full of sensitive information, traffic lights, autocars. Everything would be fried. It would cause chaos! There would be both human and android casualties. Hank nodded along as Connor spoke. He put a lot of faith in SWAT, especially Captain Allen. They'd worked together a few times, and he knew the guy was highly competent.
"Don't you worry about that. Allen and his team can handle it. You need to get to a hospital." Richard's jaw tightened at the words. Hank knew why. Richard Perkins was a dedicated agent. He never left a job half done. "We're working this case together, remember? Let us handle things for a while." Richard was less than reassured, but injured as he was, he didn't have much choice. Hank was pretty sure an ambulance had already been called, and he was proved right a few minutes later when a team of medics flooded in to relieve him.
By that point, SWAT had already made their move, and the sound of gunshots, yelling, and running feet filled the air. With a nod, Hank gave Connor permission to enter the foray to offer support and gather intel. Since he was the one administering first aid, Hank needed to tell the paramedics what he knew about the injury and how it had happened. The paramedics were highly trained and soon had Richard bundled in the back of the ambulance. At Richard's insistence, Hank stayed behind to oversee the crime scene and stay on top of the case.
Luckily, Terrance Evans wasn't a brave man. When cornered, he gave in pretty quickly, and after they got him back to the precinct, he fell apart. Shooting a federal agent was a felony, which bulked up his prison time substantially. Hank didn't tell him Richard's wounds were fairly minor. He laid it on thick, making Evans think he'd left the agent at death's door and that it would soon be a murder charge. The guy crumbled. The EMP was on a timer, but it was a pretty simple device. They called the closest squad car, and the device was soon rendered inactive.
Hank barely even typed up a report before grabbing his coat and driving to the hospital. Despite knowing Richard would be alright, he couldn't help the anxiety swelling in the pit of his stomach as he entered and asked to see him. He didn't have a good track record with hospital visits, and wouldn't feel at ease until he saw him. Seeing him in the open doorway was almost worse. He had a private room, of course. The FBI paid him well, and he had excellent insurance. Hank moved quietly as he entered, unable to take his eyes off Richard's sleeping form.
He'd never seen him out of his suit before, and though he knew he was small, the hospital gown made him look tiny. His collarbone stood out along the loose neckline, his skin was sallow in the bright light of the room, making him seem sickly. There were dark purple pits around his eyes where he hadn't slept properly in weeks. His dark hair was windswept and tousled from being lifted and moved around the hospital. There was a needle in the back of his left hand, which was resting on the bed beside him. His right arm was secured in a blue canvas sling, and Hank could see the edge of the white bandages peeking out at both his neckline and the short white sleeve of his smock.
Looking at him now, Hank thought it would have been better if he was the one who'd been hit. That bullet was meant for him. Richard had put himself in harm's way, probably saving his life. Why did he do it? Barely a few weeks ago, when he'd first turned up, they couldn't stand each other. Hank had almost punched him in the nose a second time, and they'd been at each other's throats constantly. Things had mellowed with time. They'd learned to work together, gradually finding a rhythm that worked. Richard Perkins was the definition of a workaholic. He even gave Gavin Reed a run for his money. The difference was that Gavin had Nines, his partner, to temper him. Richard's team never questioned him or the long hours he worked.
"Hey…" It was a weak, cracked greeting that almost made Hank jump out of his skin. He'd been so busy thinking about what happened, he didn't notice Richard's dark eyes had fluttered open. Richard winced as he lifted his head a little, trying to get comfortable despite the pain in his shoulder. The IV was running to a bag of fluids, something to help replenish the blood he'd lost, but he didn't see a line for morphine or any other type of painkiller. "What are you doing here?" There was no way Hank was going to admit he was worried and felt bad, so he went for the next best thing.
"Thought you'd like to know we got the guy. The EMP has been disarmed, and is on its way to the precinct now." Richard looked more than a little relieved as Hank took the seat beside him. It was a nice padded chair rather than those cheap plastic ones you got in the emergency rooms. Must be nice, going premium. The bed was still the same, though he swore the sheets looked a little more crisp. The food was probably better, too. He couldn't imagine them serving slop to the likes of Elijah Kamski, though Kamski was probably rich enough to have his own hospital room built at home.
"That's good…" Silence fell between them, and Hank couldn't think of a way to break it. Luckily, Richard seemed to have something on his mind as he licked his lips and squirmed. He wanted something. Hank had picked up on a few of Richard's tells over the past few weeks, and he always got shifty when he needed a favour. "Listen…I might be in here for a day or two, and I-I need someone to stop by my apartment." Considering Richard had just saved his ass, an apartment run seemed a reasonable request.
"Sure, you need some clothes?" Richard shook his head.
"No, it's not that." He seemed uncomfortable, maybe even a little embarrassed as he searched for the right words. "I have…pets." Hank's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't imagined Richard as the pet type. "I know they're not real pets. I wouldn't have time to take care of a living animal, but I still don't like to think of them being by themselves." You're fucking kidding me! Android pets? Richard Perkins, the ruthless, cut-throat FBI agent who'd hunted down the leader of Jericho and almost scuppered the revolution, owned android pets? It was more reasonable and believable than him having real animals, what with his long working hours and extended trips away from home, but Hank had never imagined he'd have androids.
"So you want someone to go and feed them?" Richard nodded.
"And play with them for a while, you know, just to stop them from getting bored. There's two of them, so they shouldn't be too lonely, and they can run for two or three weeks without thirium, but I'd still appreciate it if someone could check in." Well, that wasn't too much of an ask. Richard started to object when Hank said he'd go over there himself. It seemed too much to trouble him with, but Hank insisted. Richard would have been able to go home himself if not for him, so it was only right that he went over there and made sure his pets had food.