Chapter Text
Hank glanced up at the crumpled drawings stuck haphazardly on the wall above the bed. His stormy eyes gently tracing the messy crayon as he willed himself to ignore the stinging behind his eyes.
“Lieutenant?”
He rips his eyes away from the little wax family - a tall detective, a large St. Bernard, and between them, a smiling little boy - and instead looks into concerned brown eyes.
“Fuck, Con- stop lookin’ at me like Sumo just ate my left sock . I’m fine.”
Connor looked at him disbelievingly. “Hank, you did not even correct my use of your title, it is evident your mind is elsewhere. And it does not take a seasoned detective in order to conclude so.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hank.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuckin’ android. Was just thinkin’ it’s about time I took ‘em pictures down. Had ‘em up for god knows how long.”
Connor pursed his lips, LED flashing yellow briefly. “Forgive me if I am overstepping, however, would it bother you if you left them there?”
“This is your room now, Connor. I ain’t leavin’ shit up on your walls just ‘cause I can’t get my shit together.”
“What if I want them there?”
To Hank’s credit, he managed to at least keep his jaw from hitting the floor. “Now why in the god forsaken fuckin’ world would you want that?”
“I apologise,” a flash of yellow, “I just thought I would not mind them there. I…I like them.”
He still didn’t really know what he liked, or disliked. He liked Hank, and he liked Sumo. He liked his coin as well. But beyond that, he found he did not prefer things one way or another. This thought made his thirium pump feel constricted, despite him knowing there was no physical malfunction within his chassis. This was an emotion, and one of the few he was particularly familiar with. Guilt. He felt as though he were going against everything Markus fought for. All that trouble to gain free will, yet he couldn’t even choose a favourite colour on his own. Connor thought he was not very good at being a deviant.
Despite that, he thought he liked the childish drawings. They were Cole’s, and they were obviously important to Hank. The man had been pestering him for the better part of a week about finding decor for his soon-to-be bedroom, but this was the first thing he found he actually wanted , and Connor’s never wanted much.
The pictures were a part of Hank, and a part of Hank’s life and a small piece of Hank’s heart. So, Connor concluded, what better decor could he hang off the wall than that, if the criteria was simply ‘something that makes you feel happy and at home’? Hank was home.
“I mean- fuck- whatever, yeah, shit. Keep ‘em there. Doesn’ matter.”
Hank couldn’t say no to Connor. He’s never asked for anything, so he felt like whenever he did ask he’d probably bend over backwards to get him what he wanted. That’s what he told himself, at least. But deep down he knew Connor could be the most spoilt little brat and still get whatever he wanted if he just used his puppy eyes. He had no qualms about that, though. Especially when he saw the android’s eyes gleam and the little awkward smile he so rarely showed appear on his face. He’d never understand how such little things made the boy happy. Fuck, he could probably give him rubbish and he’d act like he just received a gift from Android Jesus himself.
He grunted, not knowing what to do under the admiring eyes of the young detective, and went on clearing up the room in silence. The silence didn’t last long, as Connor soon filled it with chattering about the most random facts he certainly did not give a flying fuck about. He could be quite talkative when he wanted to since deviating, but Hank found that somehow, the idle chatter and peaceful rustling as they sorted out the room was the most content he’d felt in years.