Chapter Text
Connor took a few minutes to collect himself: drying his body and pants as much as he could, and awkwardly replacing the place over the back of his shoulder. All the while, berating himself. How could he lose self-control like that? His chest ached like his thirium pump had been twisted, grinding against his chassis.
But… Hank had kept going, even when it was clear what was happening. Could he reciprocate Connor's feelings, or was it just out of pity?
He didn't want to emerge from the bathroom, but he knew at one point or another he would need to. Tentatively, he opened the bathroom door and checked that Hank wasn't in his bedroom. It was more concerning that he heard the familiar clinking of a whiskey bottle, so he would have to make it quick.
He dashed across to the bedroom, pulling open the bottom dresser drawer to change into his “home” clothes. It was more like pajamas; a plain, grey v-neck shirt and soft cotton pants with pawprints on then. His back still ached, but he could figure out a way to deal with it later.
Padding out if the bedroom, the two of them spotted each other.
On the table was, in fact, the bottle of Black Lamb, but the glass in front of him was filled with cola. The man looked a little apologetic when Connor looked at the liquor with a small exhale.
“I measured it out,” Hank defended. “Only a shot, I promise.”
Nodding, Connor approached slowly, “Okay.”
There was silence, as the impending conversation was ignored a little longer. Hank sipped his drink, scratching a dry spot in his hair.
“I want to-” Connor finally blurted, “apologize.”
Hank nodded, face expressionless. “Uhhh… all right.”
The deviant continued, “I didn't know that, ummm, that would happen. It must've made you uncomfortable-”
“Connor…”
“- and I should not have put you in that position.” He stared down at the floor, “I'm so sorry, Hank.”
His partner frowned, inhaling deeply before speaking. “Honestly, I was concerned that I was hurting you. But, apology accepted, if it makes you feel better, okay?”
Connor opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again with his brows drawn together. “Are you… not angry with me?”
“What?” Hank asked, lips curling up slightly. “Of course not,” he shrugged, taking a deep gulp of boozed soda.
“But you… you didn't…”
Hank waved him over to sit down, and he complied with confusion written all over him.
“I'm not prudent, or touchy about sex. I'm too old for that bullshit, ya know?” Connor noticed his heart rate and exterior temperature were both elevated, cheeks tinged red. “As long as I didn't overstep your boundaries…?”
“N-no! I mean, I did ask you to, I guess,” the android rubbed his palms. “But I… the circumstances that it happened under, and-” his own stress levels spiked. “I really like you.”
Hank chuckled, making Connor blush, “I sure hope so, if you're living here and haven't asked Fowler for a new-”
He stopped talking; Connor raised his eyebrows.
“Oh.”
“Yes?” Connor asked.
“You mean you… like me.”
“Yes.”
Hank leaned back in his chair, feeling vaguely like a dumbass as he slowly took in the new information.
“Hank…”
“But why ?”
“Because you're-” He smiled slightly, “Because of times like this. You aren't easily put off, and you are understanding and kind.”
“Uh-huh,” Hank didn't seem convinced.
“And you're big... In a good way!”
The man snorted, finally breaking from his dumbfounded daze. “All right, all right.”
“I'm serious!”
“I… I guess you must be,” he figured aloud.
Connor felt a little relieved, but soon realized something was lacking. “And you?”
“Me… what?”
“Do you- how do you feel about me?”
“Uhhmmm… well…” Hank shifted in his chair, crossing his arms and mumbling slightly. “Of course I like you.”
Immediately, Connor beamed a sunny smile, “Really?”
“Yeah. Do you want a list too, or can I put my face on your face already?”
Connor stood inhumanly fast, launching into Hank’s lap for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss; perfect and messy enough to make Hank release a rumbling laugh as he reached around to pull Connor closer.
Unfortunately, both of then had forgotten about the injury until the Hank brushed the indented plastic at the same time Connor gasped and clutched at his partner’s shirt.
“Maybe we should finish dealing with that… yeah?” The android agreed quietly, sliding away to allow Hank to stand up and look around for a moment. “Let's just do it in here, yeah? Do you need any thirium?” He rolled up his sleeves, already stepping toward the fridge.
“Two units, but I can get-” There was no point in continuing, his partner already returning to the table with the bottles of blue liquid.
“Switch your chair around,” Hank motioned, grabbing his own. “I want to do this for ya, and I could use the practice for next time.”
“Next time?”
He shrugged, watching as Connor sat backwards on the seat with his arms folding across the wood frame, head leaning into them.
“Yeah, trust me… it's not the first time you're going to be coming home with a few bumps and scrapes.”