#Hank is in his DPD sweatshirt

[stiwfssr]

#hank anderson #played by #clancy brown #in #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh #video games #my gifs #540px #10mb #This is from the gallery #you unlock shit with points #Hank is in his DPD sweatshirt #which I see in a lot of fanart #In regards to the game though #You don't ever want to see Hank in that sweatshirt #I don't even want to “fix” him #I am beyond that #I just want to look at him and enjoy his presence #for as long as I can #He can do whatever he wants #Humanity is a terrible burden

[gogogodzilla]

Chapter 5

Summary: Connor hunts his second deviant of the day and you try you get a grip (literally). ✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ wattpad ✧ ✧ previous chapter ✧ next chapter ✧

You went over the scenario several times in your head, wondering what you could’ve done differently. Why did he jump the fence? Why didn’t he just listen?

 Hank rolled to a stop outside of Chicken Feed, his usual lunch stop. He climbed out of the car, leaving you and Connor. The tension was thick and you ground your teeth. 

“I’m sorry if I may have caused you any distress, Doctor,” Connor apologized from the back seat. 

You whipped around in your seat, facing him, “Fuck you,” you hissed before turning back around. You ran your fingers through your hair, and your voice softened, “We’re partners, and you can’t be a very good partner if you’re scattered across the highway.” Before Connor could respond you exited the car, hoping to take your mind off of this whole morning. 

You stood next to Hank as he greeted an old friend, tuning them out as they talked animatedly about gambling. You watched as Connor crossed the road glaring at him before moving to stand at one of the tables nearby. 

Hank wanded over, two boxes in his hands while Connor carried your drinks. “Thanks, Lieutenant,” you mumbled, taking one of the boxes from him. Connor handed you your drink, and your eyes met. The fire burning inside you was slowly subdued and you sent him a smile. 

Connor leaned on the table next to you as you began to eat your meal: chicken tenders with fries and a large drink. The lunch of champions.  “Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories and twice the cholesterol level,” he leaned in closer, raising his brows, “you shouldn’t eat that.”

You snorted, “See, Lieutenant, I always told you you should’ve gotten the tenders.” 

“Everyone’s gotta die of something,” Hank sighed, raising his burger. 

Connor continued, “Is there anything you’d like to know about me?” 

Hank's response was immediate, “Hell no.” He paused, “Why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?” His question makes you snort into your drink, almost choking on the bubbly liquid. 

“Cyberlife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration,” Connor replied, completely serious. 

You tried to hide the smirk that was forming, “Then, why’d they pair a fancy jacket with jeans? Seems like they wanted you to dress as offensively as possible.” Connor tilted his head to look at you, but you were openly laughing now. Hank raised his hand for a high-five and you gladly met his hand with yours. 

“Cyberlife hires some of the most renowned designs to make sure androids are as aesthetically pleasing as possible,” the corner of Connor’s mouth quirked up. You liked making him smile, even if it meant making fun of him. Your mind wandered, thinking about what Connor would look like in other clothes. You thought a DPD sweatshirt would suit him just fine. Hell, even one of Hank’s obnoxious button-ups would be better than his rigid uniform.

“They need to pick a different aesthetic,” you replied as you gave him a lopsided grin. 

“Maybe I should tell you about deviants,” Connor changed the subject. 

“Yes,” you sighed, “please enlighten us.” You leaned your head on your hand, waiting for Connor to continue. 

“We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion,” Connor elaborated. 

Hank furrowed his brow and held up a hand, stopping Connor, “In English, please.”

“They don’t really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behavior.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “Do we know this for a fact? Or, is this just a theory concocted by Cyberlife?” 

Connor hesitated, “It’s… a theory, although Cyberlife has done extensive research-” 

“Yeah, but they still don’t know exactly why androids deviate, that’s why we were hired,” you countered. Connor tapped his fingers on the table. You could tell you were getting to him and a small part of you liked that. 

“Alright, you two,” Hank warned. You pursed your lips and returned your focus to your now cold meal. Hank’s gaze landed on Connor, “You ever dealt with deviants before?” 

Connor faltered for a millisecond before answering, “A few months back… A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl… I managed to save her.” You remembered that night, it was all over the news. They wanted to call you in to negotiate but Cyberlife convinced them that Connor was a better fit for the job. 

“So, I guess you’ve done all your homework, right? Know everything there is to know about me and Doc here?” Hank inquired before taking a sip of his drink. 

Connor focused on Hank as he began rattling off details, “I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases, and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit.” Connor hesitated before adding the last part, “ I also know you've received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and you spend a lot of time in bars and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit. I also know you've received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and you spend a lot of time in bars.” Hank looked down at his food. Connor wasn’t wrong, but it still hurt to hear. 

Connor moved his gaze onto you and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. “You attended Yale and then onto graduate school. You went on to defend your dissertation about how to successfully integrate androids into society and earn your doctorate. I also know you worked at Cyberlife for some time as the assistant director of humanization… Your work is what ultimately led to my creation,” Connor listed, his voice soft as he ended his analysis of you. It unnerved you how much he knew. Elijah never knew when to stop and he never listened to you. Eventually, your conscience couldn’t take it anymore and you were hired at the DPD to, hopefully, make a real difference in the world. 

“I was a glorified secretary, at best. I wasn't helping androids. When I finally thought I was doing something meaningful, they fired me,” you replied, looking down at your drink. It felt like he had punched you in the gut, leaving you there in the pouring rain. 

“What’s your conclusion?” Hank grumbled. 

“I think working with an officer with personal issues is an added challenge, but…” he paused, “adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.” And then, he winked. 

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes flickered between Hank and Connor. Did he really just do that? And, why was your face so hot all of sudden?

He was… hopeful. It was cute. 

Connor’s LED flashed yellow and he rapidly blinked, “I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It’s a few blocks away.” His eyes slid to the side, gaze falling on you, “We should go have a look.”

God, why is he like this and why do you like it so much?

Connor backed away from the table. “I’ll let you finish your meal. I’ll be in the car if you need me,” and with that, he was back to his original spot in the backseat. If he kept up like this he’d probably be promoted to shotgun privileges. 

“Can you believe him?” You scoffed, gathering up your trash. Hank sipped his drink as he raised his brows. 

“I’m still your favorite, right?” you questioned, lightly tapping your fingers on the table, mirroring Connor from earlier. You stilled your hand once you realized.

Hank barked out a laugh, “Sure, kid.” You grinned, hell yeah. “C’mon, we got a deviant to find.” You nodded before following Hank to his car, assuming your rightful spot in the passenger seat. 

Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between Hank and Connor in the rickety elevator of the apartment building where supposedly a deviant was hiding out. The elevator doors slid open and you followed Hank, whereas Connor stayed put. Hank shot you a puzzled look and you shrugged. 

“Hey, Connor!” Hank shouted and Connor raised his brows, his LED flashing yellow before returning to its usual blue. “You ran out of batteries, or what?” 

“I’m sorry,” Connor apologized, “I was making a report to Cyberlife.” What could he even be writing a report about? Hey, we’re in this decrepit elevator, hoping we don’t plummet to our deaths. Gtg, ttyl. 

“Well… do you plan on staying in the elevator all day, or what?” You asked, motioning for him to come out of the elevator. 

“No!” Connor sounded like a child, suddenly defensive. “I’m coming,” he assured. 

Connor followed you and Hank down the hallway. As you approached the door, you stood out of the way, allowing Connor to knock on the door. Hank leaned against the door frame and watched Connor knock. When no response came, Connor looked back at Hank who only shrugged in response. 

“C’mon, knock like you mean it,” you scoffed, as you leaned on the wall across from the door. 

Connor knocked harder this time and raised his voice, “Anybody home? Open up! Detroit Police!” 

A clatter from behind the door caused you to straighten. Hank and Connor shared a look, “Stay behind me,” Hank commanded. 

“Got it,” Connor replied, backing up. Hanked kicked the door in, pistol cradled in his hands, ready to fire if necessary. Connor didn’t budge, so you pushed into him lightly, encouraging him to move. 

Finally, Connor began to walk forward with you close behind as Hank continued clearing the apartment.

“You should’ve let me kick the door in,” you whispered as Hank opened the various doors through the apartment. 

Hank barged through the final door causing birds to come flocking out. “What the fuck is this?” Hank exclaimed, moving further into the apartment. You crinkled your nose as the smell hits you. God, this was almost worse than the Ortiz house… Almost. 

You observed Connor as he began his investigation, the pigeons fluttering out of his way as he walked. 

“Do you think I’d catch a disease if I pet one?” You asked Hank as you crouched down, hand reaching out to one of the birds. 

“It is unlikely that you would catch a disease from petting one, but rather from inhaling the dust of their droppings,” Connor interrupted from his place next to the bookshelf. You rolled your eyes before standing back up, crossing your arms. 

You followed Connor into the bathroom, your eyes widening at the erratic writing on the walls. “rA9,” you whispered, running your hand gently over the wall. 

“It’s the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall,” Connor commented. 

You nodded, furrowing your brows, “I didn’t expect it to be so widespread.” You turned around, wanting to hear Connor’s reply, before recoiling.

“Egh, Connor,” you complained as Connor retracted his fingers from his lips, “don’t put that in your mouth; you don’t know where it’s been.” 

 “It’s an android, there’s blue blood in the sink,” Connor defended himself.

You held back a gag, “There is also other stuff in the sink.” Connor crouched down to observe the fallen chair and you took that as your cue to leave. 

You walked out of the bathroom and continued to search the rest of the apartment. You were drawn to the various mazes drawn on the walls. What does it mean? You continued your investigation until you came up to the closet door. You gently pulled the doors open. 

“Oh fuck!” you yelped, jumping back as pigeons streamed out of the closet. Connor came out of the bathroom to see what all the commotion was. “Stupid birds,” you huffed, returning to the closet to close it. 

Connor bent down to scan the fallen birdcage. You wondered what happened in his mind when he looked for clues. How did he put the pieces together? Connor rose from his crouched position and sauntered towards you. He was silent as he gently grabbed your arms and moved you so you were behind him. 

A blur of dark clothing dropped down from the attic knocking Connor down with a grunt. Unfortunately, he took you with him and you landed on the floor, the wind knocked out of you. Connor jumped up, looking between you and the deviant now halfway out of the apartment. 

“What’re you waiting for?” Hank exclaimed, “Chase it!”

Connor immediately took off, chasing after his second deviant of the day. You ran after him, significantly slower. How they could run so fast was beyond you. Hank led you through various buildings, Connor’s bright blue accents the only indication that you were on the right trail. You pushed past workers in the greenhouses, coming to a stop on the edge of the Detroit Urban Farms building, watching Connor and the deviant zip by on a passing train. Crazy bastards. 

“Holy shit,” Hank wheezed, coming to a halt beside you. 

You nodded, your feet already moving to catch up to Connor, “Let’s go before we lose them.” Hank huffed before jogging after you. Your chase led you through various greenhouses, Hank struggled to follow you up the stairs leading to the rooftop as you took them two at a time, your legs burning in protest. 

“STOP! DPD!” you shouted as you burst through the door to the rooftop, lunging after the deviant. You landed on top of the deviant, your hands gripping his jacket. Your victory was short-lived when the deviant fought back, struggling to get out of your grip as you both stood up. Connor burst through the cornfield just as the deviant elbowed you. You stumbled back, your calf hitting the ledge of the building. You had too much momentum and before you knew it you were tumbling off the ledge of the building.

You attempted to grab the ledge as you fell, but your palm just slid across the smooth surface. You gasped as your fingers were able to finally gain traction on the ledge, barely holding you up. 

“Connor!” you shrieked, as your hands started to shake, muscles straining. 

A pair of hands latched onto your forearm, hauling you over the side of the building. You rolled onto your back, trying to slow your rapid breathing. Your eyes met Hank’s, dazed, as he pulled you to your feet. He left you. 

Your eyes flicked across the landscape looking for any sign of Connor. There. He stood face to face with the deviant, the deviant’s feet inching towards the ledge. You ran after him, fury giving you a second wind. He fucking left you. 

You slowed your pace, approaching the android. “Don’t you dare move,” you spat, pointing at the deviant. 

You whipped around, using your momentum to send your palm into Connor’s cheek, smacking him across the face. Connor’s head snapped to the side before immediately righting itself. Your palm burned when you pulled it away. Good. 

“You left me,” you snarled, blinking away the indignant tears that threatened to spill. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm, sure to leave crescent-shaped indents. 

“I had to make a choice… It seemed to me…” Connor’s defense fell on deaf ears, as you ground your teeth and looked away from him.  

“What if Hank wasn’t there?” Your voice was getting progressively louder as you threw your arms out to the side, “Do I even mean anything to you?” You took step towards him, “Just another stupid human that got in the way of your mission?” You tilted your head glaring at him. 

Connor stepped forward, his arms open, “I understand you’re upset… Perhaps I didn’t assess the-”

“Fuck you!” You cut him off shoving your finger in his face, “You don’t understand anything, you’re just a stupid fucking machine!” Connor blinked at you, silent. 

“C’mere,” Hank spoke up, grabbing the deviant’s bicep,  pulling him away from the ledge, and cuffing him. 

The deviant kept his gaze on Connor, “Why are you doing this?”

“Shut up,” you barked, glaring at Connor. You were never one to bad mouth the deviants, but this one pushed you off a roof, so… 

“You’re one of us,” the deviant continued, “You’re helping humans… But you’re just their slave!” Connor stayed silent, his eyes never leaving the deviant. 

“We said shut up! Come along!” Hank growled, pushing the back of the deviant’s head.

 The deviant came to a stop, almost glued to the spot. “rA9 save me,” the deviant whispered before he wrenched out of Hank’s grasp making a run for the ledge.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you reached out, the deviant barely slipping out of your grasp as you chased after him. The deviant jumped, the distant smashing of glass the only indication of where he landed. You came to a halt on the ledge, breathing heavily. 

You turned towards Connor, your face contorting in rage, “This is all your fault!” He was silent, taking your verbal beating without flinching. You turned on your heel, storming off.  “I’m taking a cab back to the station,” you called over your shoulder, not caring if they heard you or not. Stupid fucking androids.

#detroit become human #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #hank anderson #no y/n #reader insert #criminal analysis #hank and connor #chapter 5 #connor makes bad decisions #get his ass bestie

[laufey-delia]

My DBH headcanon(s)

So I recently received DBH as a gift, after years of being obsessed with this game, lol   AND, so I thought, why not share my post game headcanon(s) here. Just to be clear, I will base my head cannon after the peaceful revolution ending.

This is a(n incomplete) list of all of my HCs ! 

1st HC : Connor’s siblings

I like to think that after the revolution, Connor will go back to the cyberlife tower and then discover several things: first off, in a rush, most remaining androids were destroyed, including all of his “replacements”. But, in one way or another, he will find an abandoned android that look like him. A forgotten project, if you will: RK900. The project wasn’t 100% finished, resulting in RK900 having issues; mostly sort of seizures and other problems in direct or indirect links. (I still hesitate to HC him as mute, not sure, though it is a nice concept)

In my head cannon, RK900 is like we see in the Machine Connor ending, where he replaces Connor. His name is Nines (given by Gavin, though people always call him Niles instead, assuming a typo or mispronunciation). Though, they can be differenced, especially because their personalities are very different. Connor is a puppy. Nines is a raven. 

Another surprise, Connor find Connor-60 still alive. Hank had sloppily shot him right in the right-eye, effectively knocking him out for quite a long time. Maybe another bio-component was broken that led him to be knocked out for so long. Any way, he’s alive and not deviated yet, but luckily, Connor does that for him.

At first, everybody at the DPD had a hard time differentiating the two Connor, if they weren’t face to face with them. The only different was Connor-60 had a quite big scar from the bullet wound, and a permanent decolourized pupil/optical bio-component. Connor-60 slowly started to hate his name and thus opted for being called Conan (and it’s easier to know which is being called). Hank and him still have an iffy relationship, and he prefers Sumo’s company. He also joined the SWAT team. IDK, it just suits him (Captain Allen is sceptical at first, though he sees how Conan has potential) Of course, their personality is quite different. Thanks, deviancy. While Connor is a puppy as previously stated, Conan is very cold and quiet. He’s still very much like Connor’s initial personality when he hasn’t deviated yet.

They all live in Hank’s house, but it’s quite small for 4 people and a dog. That’s why Hank is secretly searching for a bigger house. Nines wants to get his own house, though, but Conan wants to stay. Who’s going to rightfully spoil Sumo if he isn’t here, after all? 

Also, Hank is 100% their dad now. Go away hankcon shipper cuz this relationship is 100% father & son(s).

On a (not so) unrelated, note, Hank’s mental health also improved, as his sons really do take care of him. He still does get drunk from time to time, especially after a hard day, but it happens less and less.

2nd HC : The C-bling’s (pun intended) fashion senses.

Connor’s fashion sense: 

He got that fashion sense from Hank’s own wardrobe, but with his own twist. Colourful opened flannel with usual neutral shirt under it, dress pants & shoes. Though, he recently developed a taste for ripped jeans. If he doesn’t wear his colourful flannels, then patterned sweatshirts are his must-go. Music band names? Sure. Sweatshirts with dumb jokes like: “Who needs hair on a body like this?” ? Yes. Prints like houndstooth, waves, or simply bicolour? Why not !

  Conan’s fashion sense:

He doesn’t really care for such things. He’d happily keep the clothes provided by Cyberlife if it wasn’t ruined by his Thirium and very taboo for free androids!! To keep wearing such garments. So, he’d resort to any shirt found and pants, though he usually has jeans. He also has grown attached to his SWAT sweatshirt and can often be seen around the DPD wearing it. The colours are kept neutral: different shades of grey and black, very little white. 

Nines’ fashion sense:

Having been deviated recently with no memory beforehand, Nines hasn’t got the chance to really explore himself. Perhaps he’s too scared for that, perhaps he’s too busy for that. So, his usual go-tos are buttoned-up shirts, or turtlenecks. He does appreciate long coats to go with everything. Like Connor, he prefers wearing dress pants. His palette is still neutral, but perhaps a bit more colourful than Conan’s: white (esp for coats. It reminds him of his Cyberlife jacket), black, grey, and if he’s feeling like it, deep blue, emerald or dark green, crimson or dark brown.

3rd HC : Nines and Gavin

Yes, I ship them. Yes, Gavin is an asshole. Yes, it is because he has issues. Luckily, Nines also has issues and is having none of his partner’s shit.  Their relation get better with time passing, and their “I’m going to kill you before you kill me” slowly morphs into playful banter and inside jokes. 

That’s all i can think of for now.

Byeeeee

#dbh #dbh connor #detroit become human #headcanon #dbh headcanons #nines rk900 #dbh nines #dbh sixty #connor rk800 #my headcanons #gavin reed #hank anderson #personal headcanon #fashion sense #post peaceful revolution

[rjhpandapaws]

Consider, if you will, a designated, pre-planned Lazy Weekend for Hancon in canon. Like, Hank says something offhand about "gee we've been so busy lately we haven't had a chance to just stay in and have a lazy weekend" so Connor straight up makes an itinerary for their Lazy Weekend, including calculating the exact amount of time Hank should sleep in and the percentage of droop Hank's old DPD sweatshirt has to determine if it's Lazy enough.

//I am in love with this

It was about midday on Friday when Hank went into the captain’s office. As soon as Hank stepping the captain frosted the glass and he could read their hear signatures but couldn’t hear what there were saying. He would have turned up his audio processors, but Gavin was listening to music at a loud volume yet again and he didn’t want to deal with the ringing in his ears that it left him with. So he was left to guess. Hank had been going on for a couple days about how much they had been working, and that “humans need a breather from time to time, for fuck’s sake Connor.” So if he were going to guess the Lieutenant was asking for a few days off. He doubted it would be successful, but Hank could use a break. He wasn’t sleeping enough according to Connor’s scans. Perhaps if the captain said no he could put Hank in for a vacation time directly, he might get in trouble, but the Lieutenant deserved it, Connor would be able to handle the work on his own. There really shouldn’t be a problem workload wise, and according to Hank life wasn’t any fun if you didn’t break a few rules along the way. Staring at the Captain’s office wasn’t going to help him get anything done. If he got more of their files done Hank might be allowed to go home sooner. He interfaced with his terminal and got to work, he hoped to be caught up by the time Hank got back. It was by no means a reasonable goal but he planned to try either way. It wouldn’t hurt anything, and if all else failed, he could catch up while Hank was at home assuming things stayed quiet.

“Pack up.” The suddenness of Hank’s voice startled Connor badly enough he broke the interface.  “Excuse me?” He said, he put a hand over his thirium pump regulator like that would slow its cycle. It was something he picked up from Hank. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Hank amended, “But pack up, we have the weekend off.” “We?” Connor continued, “Lieutenant - Hank - I don’t need to take time off. You are the one that needs rest.” Hank rolled his eyes, “You quite literally have not had a day off in your life, so pack your shit and let’s go.” Connor blinked a few times but grabbed his jacket, it was a charcoal grey thing that Nines had gotten him to replace his CyberLife blazer. It was still just for show, but he liked to look nice. He stood and Hank gave him that half smile that did odd things to his thirium pump. He placed his hand over it again like that would somehow help. It didn’t. Hank didn’t seem to notice, “I have the whole weekend planned. We aren’t doing jack shit. All I want to do is relax.”

Connor followed him out of the precinct making plans of his own. How much sleep Hank would need to get in order to feel well rested again and make up for at least some of the hours he had missed. He also looked up what someone was supposed to wear on a lazy weekends, pajamas apparently, which he didn’t own because up until now he hadn’t needed to own any. He frowned slightly. “Hank I don’t have the things necessary for this kind of weekend.” He said as he opened the passenger side door of the old beat up car, “I have no need for pajamas.” The way Hank looked at him was a mix of blatant amusement and annoyance, “Connor, relax. I’ll handle that.” “And manage to get twelve hours of sleep?” Connor pressed after Hank joined him in the car, “Because in order to be awake at a decent time tomorrow and sleep enough you have to go to bed in exactly two hours.” The sigh Hank let out in response was definitely one of annoyance, “Connor, it’s a weekend to relax there is no schedule. I’ll sleep when I feel like it.” “But you need to catch up on your rest Hank.” He continued. “And I will Connor, on my own time.” Hank said in mild exasperation as he pulled out of the parking lot, “I promise.” Connor eyed him skeptically and even without looking Hank seemed to notice because he took a hand off the steering wheel and flipped him off, “Have faith in a guy would you.”

It was Connor’s turn to look unimpressed, “Hank, the last time I had faith in you, you called me at two in the morning incredibly intoxicated and in need of a ride.” “A guy messes up one time and you never let it go.” Hank remarked with a slight smile, “Would you believe me if I told you I’ll behave?” “Will you behave Hank?” He shot back. “Touche.” He turned on the radio after that and Connor let the conversation fall away. He took sleeping of the schedule but didn’t know what else to put on the docket for the weekend. Movies? Hank seemed to like the science fiction movies from the early 2000s, Connor didn’t see the appeal but he was certain he could find a few Hank hadn’t seen. “Stop it.” Hank said out of the blue. Connor turned to look at him with his brows furrowed in confusion, “What am I doing?” “Thinking, planning. You’re light’s been on yellow for like a whole minute.” Hank gestured to his temple, “It is a lazy weekend Con, be lazy. Turn all that off.” “How?” He asked as Hank parked in the driveway. “That’s what we’re gonna figure out. What does it take for one work obsessed android to unwind.” Hank opened his door and got out. Connor rolled his eyes and followed suit.

Sumo greeted them both when they went inside, he was excited to see Hank again, but nearly flattened Connor when he saw the android. Connor didn’t come across as often since he had gotten a place of his own. He was just as excited to see the large dog as well. He got down on his knees and greeted the dog with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Maybe he could spend the weekend playing with Sumo, that’s pretty relaxing. “I’m gonna change and then see if I can find you some more comfortable clothes.” Hank said as he headed down the hall. Connor nodded at him as he left, he didn’t feel much in the way of comfort. There were fabrics he liked better than others but he didn’t think in terms of comfortable or uncomfortable. He didn’t sleep so he hadn’t invested in pajamas, he kind of regretted that now. Sumo rolled onto his back and Connor leaned over him and continued to scratch at his stomach, smiling at the hammering of his tail against the floor. This was nice. His systems were calm and there were no pending notifications or tasks in his systems. He was smacked in the head with a pile of fabric. He flinched and the clothes fell to floor, “Go get changed kid. The big lug will be here when you get back.” “Alright.” He picked up the clothes and headed for the bathroom with the bundle in his arms.

Hank had given him a pair of grey sweat pants, they were going to be to big but they were pretty soft so that was nice and his old DPD hoodie. It was well worn and soft in a different way than the pants. Though the searches that came up when he scanned the hoodie mostly showed images of people working out, which he didn’t think fit Hank’s definition of relaxing. He changed anyway. He folded his clothes and then tucked them in the cabinet beneath the sink so they would be out of the way. There was something about not being in business clothes for once. It was strange but in a pleasant way. It was almost like a visual way to tell people not to expect things of him, and he could see the appeal behind it. He stepped out of the bathroom and made his way back toward the living room. Hank smiled at the sight of him. “See? Isn’t that better?” He asked and patted the spot beside him on the couch, “I ordered dinner while you were in the bathroom. Before you start, it’s healthy-ish and I come sauces for you to sample.” “It’s different...” He found himself smiling at Hank’s thoughtfulness, “Thank you for that.” “I do have one request of you though.” Hank continued as Connor sat down. “What’s that?” Connor asked. “As much as your able without hurting yourself, turn your internet off.” Hank said, “I’m gonna show you some movies I think you’ll like but I don’t want you looking them up okay?” Connor nodded and turned off his external search function and leaned back against the couch, “There.” “Great now relax, you look like someone shoved a two by four up your ass.” Hank said and tried to push him back into the couch. “I am relaxed, I think.” He responded.

“Then, like fuckin slouch or something.” Hank remarked, “You’re so stiff its making me uncomfortable.” “Your poor posture is why your back hurts.” Connor countered, “Is temporary comfort really worth that?” Hank didn’t answer him, not directly anyway. He snapped his fingers to get Sumo’s attention, “Sumo, up.” The big dog boofed his excitement and jumped up onto the couch pressing Connor both back into the couch and up against Hank. Once the beast was situated Hank started the movies. They fell into comfortable silence. With one hand absently petting Sumo and his head resting on Hank’s shoulder, Connor decided that this whole relaxing thing was pretty nice. They should do it more often.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

#Canonverse short #HankCon #dbh Hank #dbh Connor #dbh fic #dbh #Birthday Ask Event! #ask panda #panda has all the answers!

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home (Gavin Reed x Reader)

Chapter One

          I couldn’t believe I was back in Detroit. I honestly never planned on coming back after everything that had happened between me and my dad. I left Michigan to go get my PhD in Sociology from (dream school). However, my dissertation was over android and human sociological relationships and the moment I was approved, Wayne State University in Detroit recruited me and offered me an amazing deal for a brand-new professor. It made sense since Detroit was at the heart of the android revolution, which would make research even easier.

         I moved into a basic apartment in June and now it’s early July. I had been avoided seeing old friends and family, telling them I had to unpack and work on my new class, SOC 345: Android and Human Relationships. Which wasn’t a complete lie, but I have been watch an unhealthy amount of cute cat videos and eating a lot of peanut butter toast alone too.

         I told my dad I would meet him today, Monday, at the station so we could get lunch with his police partner, Connor. My dad had always hated androids, I still had a hard time believing he had basically taken Connor under his wing and from what Tina tells me, he treats him like a son.

         I took a deep breath and walked into the DPD. I couldn’t help but feel anxious. I hadn’t seen my dad in over 10 years. When him and my mother divorced, he tried to stay in touch, but after my half-brother, Cole, died he pretty much disappeared from my life.

         “Hey, dad!” I said, a little too enthusiastically as I walked towards his desk. Immediately the android in the desk across from him stood up and gave me a goofy smile.

         “You must be Lieutenant Anderson’s daughter! My name’s Connor.” He reached out his hand for a handshake which I accepted with a smile.

         “Hi Connor, I’m (y/n). It’s nice to finally meet you!” I looked over to my dad, who had awkwardly shuffled towards us.

         “Hey, (y/n). How’s Detroit been treating you?” I reached over and gave him a short hug.

         “It’s been good. Doing research is a lot easier here than back in (old state). Plus, WSU gave me a pretty nice office.” I rubbed my shoulder; my dad was about to ask another question when another voice interrupted.

         “Dr. (L/n). I’ve read some of your research and wanted to introduce myself. People here call me Nines, but I am an RK900 from cyberlife. If you ever have time, I would be interested in discussing some of your theories with you.” Nines kept his hands behind his back. He looked a lot like Connor, but taller and more serious.  

         “It’s nice to meet you Nines. I always have time to talk about my theories. Not many of my peers do similar research so any chance I get to talk about it I’ll take it.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man in a leather jacket with a hood, blue jeans, and what looked like a permanent scowl on his face.

         “Hey Tin Can! We have a case to solve!” Nines whipped around to look at him and I moved from behind him so I could glare at this rude stranger.

         “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? You don’t get to talk to people or androids like that.” I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t help myself. I hate bullies, especially people who bully androids. I marched over to the man with my arms crossed my chest. He’s about 6 inches taller than me with a scar running diagonally across his nose. He snorts and looks down at me.

         “And who are you pipsqueak?” He chuckled, for once I was glad, I looked younger than my age. Nothing beats giving your full title to assholes.

         “I’m Dr. (Y/n) (L/n), a professor at Wayne State University studying sociological relationships between humans and androids, and it seems you fall under the category of ‘asshole to everyone’.” Keeping my glare on him, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. He mumbled a ‘whatever’ under his breath and walked away. I smiled to myself and turned back towards Nines, Connor, and my father.

         “I apologize for my partner, Detective Reed. He sometimes forgets not everyone shares the same opinions as him.”

         “No worries, Nines. But you shouldn’t have to deal with that, I mean-“

         “(Y/n), Reed has a lot of problems, but is mainly just an asshole.” My dad interrupted me, “but we should really get to lunch.” I nodded.

         “Well it was nice to meet you, Nines. Please feel free to stop by my office anytime. I’m pretty much there every day until classes start.” Nines gave me a short nod and walked towards where Detective Reed had gone as I followed my dad and Connor out of the precinct.

          “Lieutenant Anderson said you like sandwiches, so I found a local restaurant that is highly rated.” Connor said as we all buckled up in my dad’s car. Connor had given me the passenger seat and he sat in the back.

         “I do like sandwiches.” I turned back to look at him, as my dad started driving. “So, Connor, how do you like working for the police department?”

         “I was made to assist law enforcement, although I do prefer working for the DPD over Cyberlife.”

         “That’s fair. What about you, dad? How do you like working with Connor?” My dad snickered at my question.

         “Well, he’s the only partner I’ve been able to stand. Although I wish he would stop putting evidence in his mouth, it’s disgusting- “

         “He has a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” “I have a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” Me and Connor said at the same time, causing my dad to groan and me to giggle.

         “Damnit now there’s two of you.” My dad said with a short laugh.

         “(Y/n), how do you know that?” Connor asked, I noticed in the rearview mirror he tilted his head.

         “Shortly after the android revolution I interviewed one of my old contacts who use to work at Cyberlife. Plus, you’re the one saving my dad’s butt out in the field I wanted to know what you were capable of.” My dad quickly glanced over at me. I could tell he was surprised that I knew that, or maybe he was surprised I kept tabs on him.

         “That makes sense.” Connor said shortly, his LED changed to yellow for a short second and then looked back at me through the rearview mirror. “Lieutenant Anderson forbade me from looking you up and learning more about you before meeting you. I didn’t know he allowed you to do research on me.”

         “Connor, two things, I’ve told you a million times you can call me Hank, especially when we’re outside the precinct. Second, (Y/n) looking you up for her research is different than you scanning a ton of databases and learning everything about her.” My dad said as he pulled into a parking spot.

         “That’s fair, Hank.” Connor said as we all got out of the car. The restaurant wasn’t very busy, and we got a table right away. Me and Connor sat on one side of the table and my dad sat on the other side. He kept nervously looking at me and the menu.

         “So, how do you like your new apartment, (Y/n)?” My dad asked me while staring intently at the menu.

         “It’s a little small, but it’s just me so it works. It’s only a ten-minute walk from the university which is really nice. You guys should come see it sometime. I’m pretty much fully unpacked.”

         “Do you have a dog?” Connor asked quickly, I couldn’t help but laugh.

         “No, I’m more of a cat person, but I have missed Sumo.”

         “Sumo’s going to go crazy when he sees you. He refuses to let anyone take one of the blankets you left still. He’s always hiding it around the house. He’s so much bigger now.”

         “I didn’t know that that blanket belonged to (Y/n).”

         “Yeah, Sumo and (Y/n) were really close.” My dad said softly. I felt an ache in my heart. For a moment I thought of telling my dad I wished I hadn’t left, but that wasn’t fully true. Luckily the waitress saved us from sitting in awkward silence. She cheerfully took me and my dad’s order and walked away. “I’m surprised Nines walked up and introduced himself and asked to talk sometime.”

         “He seems nice.” I said softly, somehow, I felt I’ve stepped over a boundary. Maybe I should’ve met them at the restaurant instead of going into the precinct. “I’m sorry for yelling at that man, it wasn’t my place to talk like that in a police department.” I stared down at my lap until I heard my dad burst out laughing.

         “You have to be kidding! I love seeing people put Gavin in his place. He’s an asshole,” my dad said. “Pointed a gun one time at Connor even.” I gasped.

         “What? Why? Connor are you okay?” I grabbed his arm and he jumped a little in surprise.

         “Of course, it was when I was first assigned to the DPD. I did knock him out later, which was…satisfying.” Connor said, I let go of his arm and felt myself blush. “(Y/n), may I ask a personal question?”

         “Sure.”

         “Why do you care so much about androids? Even before the first reports of deviancy you were publishing papers fighting for android rights.” I had expected Connor to ask me that at some point, but I thought it would take longer than this.

         “I don’t know I’ve just always felt that we were equal. Why does it matter that our blood is different colors? Androids have helped push society so much further than expected. I just…it never felt right to me. The way people treated androids.” I couldn’t help, but shiver thinking about some of the horrific stories I’ve read. I looked over at Connor who was staring at me intently. His LED was spinning yellow. “Can I ask you a personal question, Connor?”

         “Of course.”

         “Many androids have taken off their LEDs, why have you kept yours?” His hand raised up to his LED, which was still yellow.

         “There’s no reason I should be ashamed that I am an android instead of human, so why would I hide the fact?” My dad snorted and I quickly turned my head towards him, tilting my head slightly.

         “I’m not laughing at what he said. It took a month of me trying to convince Connor to stop wearing his Cyberlife uniform.” I couldn’t help but smile, looking back at Connor. A light blue blush spread across his cheeks.

         “It was comfortable.” He said, his LED finally turning back to blue.

         “That’s fair. In middle school I wore the same sweatshirt every day.” I said, as the waitress sat down our sandwiches. I took a bite, not realizing how hungry I was. “Mhmmm, Connor you picked a great restaurant, this is delicious!” He beamed a smile. I looked back at my dad, who was looking at both of us with so much happiness. “Dad, do you think you and Connor could stop by my office sometime this week? I really hate where they’ve put my desk and couch and I could use some help moving them.”

         “That’s fine with me, Connor?”

         “I would love to help, maybe after you can come over and visit with us and Sumo?” I looked at my dad who immediately looked worried, I could tell he wanted to take fixing our relationship at my pace.

         “That sounds really nice. Does Friday work for you guys?”

         “Yeah, that should be fine. Fowler’s been telling Connor he needs to take time off anyway.”

         “Which I don’t understand. I’m an android. I can work every day and be fine. Our cases have a high success rate.” I let out a laugh.

         “Connor, he isn’t asking you to take time off to punish you, he wants you to be able to enjoy the world outside work! Have you picked up any hobbies?” I asked him.

         “I like to take care of Sumo.” He answered quickly.

         “Okay, well how about one day me and you go to a local dog shelter and walk some of the rescues?” I offered.

         “Really?” He was practically jumping up and down.

         “Yes of course! It’s great volunteer work and those dogs need some love.”

         “Hank, would you come with us?”

         “That should be you and (Y/n)’s thing. We can do something altogether some other time.” I couldn’t help but notice his hesitant tone.

         “I think that would be really nice, Dad.” He didn’t look up from his sandwich, but I could see the small smile on his face.

Chapter 2

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #rk800 #rk900 #dbh nines #detroit become human #fan fic #sumo #connor #hank anderson #connor is like a son to hank

[cownnor]

'I'll take Connor Whump headcanons for $800, Alex.'

Okay imagine– post game, post deviancy. Connor gets shot in the stomach and chest while chasing down a suspect for the DPD. He doesn’t feel pain, he’s still functional, and while yes the sensation of the bullets grinding against his spinal cables is uncomfortable, it doesn’t make him inoperable. Nonetheless, he goes in for repairs at a shop. Hank goes with him.

At first Connor is calm. He’s been repaired before, several times in fact. While this is the first time since his deviancy, he’s not concerned.

He goes back into the repair bay, and is immediately uneasy. This is a shop run by Cyberlife employees. He’s regretting not just going to Jericho, but this shop was closer. He realizes he doesn’t trust these people– he doesn’t know them. He didn’t think it would be a problem because it never was before. He’s only got the one body, and none of these techs will even speak to him. But they’re already there, and he doesn’t want to inconvenience Hank, so he decided to go through with it.

Once he’s up on the rig, they hook into his systems, and his autonomy disappears. He can’t move, can’t talk, can’t twitch, can’t blink. They control his everything. He immediately begins to panic, but there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s trapped in his body and they control his code. Then they’re opening him up, removing his chest plate, digging their fingers into his chest. His innards don’t have nerves, but he can feel everything. He can feel with they twist apart his internal consumption valve, when they shove a metal prong under one of his spinal nodes and pry them apart with a hiss and a click, when they tug out his temperature regulator.

And he panics. There’s fingers inside of him. Of course he panics. But there’s nothing he can do.

It takes them three hours to completely repair him. By the time he’s released back to Hank his mind is in shambles. He answers all their questions and preforms for all their tests, and then he does everything in his power to get out of the building as quickly as possible.

Hank notices his panic right away. He wants to make a scene at these techs for being so fucking careless with Connor, but Connor looks like he might puke despite the inability to do so, and the need to get him home is stronger.

So they go home. Connor ends up showering to wash away the smells of their hands off his body, and dresses in one of Hank’s sweatshirts with a pair of sweats. He ends up sleeping in Hank’s bed for the day, curled around Sumo who is more or less just laying on top of him, massive head tucked under Connor’s chin. Hank falls asleep in the chair next to his bed while watching to make sure Connor doesn’t... die, basically. They go to Jericho from then on.

#Anonymous #ANOTHER LONG ONE #SO SORRY TO MOBILE USERS #I hate being obxnious but i literally cant help myself #i just wanna make them all so long #but i dont actually wan to write them #rip me #rip connor #connor #detroit become human #hank anderson #connor whump

[eyesupmarksman]

Connor/Reader - “I Felt Him Die”

Fandom - Detroit: Become Human

Warnings - None

Originally posted on AO3

[GIF NOT MINE]

As soon as Hank’s car pulls up outside your house, you almost fall out the front door and rush out on to the driveway. The evening commuters are starting to head home from work as you see a couple of neighbours start parking in front of their own homes and go inside for the night. Hank gets out of his car, combing his fingers through his hair and huffing out a deep sigh.

He spots you before you can call out to him. “Did you get my text?” he asks, voice unusually quiet.

“Yeah,” you say, frowning slightly, “a pretty fucking cryptic one if I must say so Hank: can I drop the kid to yours tonight? Something’s up with him. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with him?”

Hank holds up his hands, looking between the car and you. “Keep your voice down, alright, the kid got spooked is all.”

You frown. Connor? Spooked? You could almost laugh. “Hank, that makes no sense,” you look into the front window of Hank’s car. Inside, quietly sitting motionless in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, is Connor. He looks...fine. From what you can see, he looks like he always does when perched inside Hank’s car. You look back at the man. “Is it a wiring problem? If it’s something like that Hank then I can’t fix him: he’ll have to go back to Cyberlife-”

Hank scowls and shakes his head. “No, God, nothing like that.” He pauses. “Well, I hope not.”

When you look back to the car, you find Connor peering back at you. You jerk your head – a silent command to get out of the car. He stayed at your house before: on days where Hank wants to be left alone and days where Connor doesn’t particularly want to go to the Cyberlife complex he normally goes to after work. When he gets out of the car, you keep your eyes on him. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. He moves just like he always has, if not just a bit more slowly. When he rounds the car to join you on the other side, though, you spot it.

Something in his eyes. Something that wasn’t there before.

Hank sighs. He knows you’ve seen it. “I’m sorry to startle you with that message but I don’t know what’s going on, and apparently he doesn’t either.”

One of Connor’s hands goes to yours. His touch is gentle as his fingers intertwine around yours. “(Y/N),” he says quietly, turning to speak into your ear. Hank is no more than a few feet away. Still, the other man turns his body away. “I would like to speak to you about something.”

You can’t stop looking in his eyes. Something almost...human.

He still stares at you, expectant for an answer. You nod firmly. “Okay,” clearing your throat, you look over to Hank, “okay, Connor can stay tonight. I’ll have him back to you tomorrow, if he’s up for it.”

The man nods. “That’s alright with me.” He peers over to Connor. “Alright with you, kid?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Connor replies, looking down to where his hand is joined with yours. Whether or not Hank sees it, he doesn’t let on. He says his usual goodbye of just a grunt and wave of the hand, and just as quickly as he got to your house, he’s gone.

Connor is still by your side. “Come on,” you gently nudge his shoulder with yours, “we’ll go inside and you can tell me everything.”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at them before it’s gone again.

There might have been a point in your life when you could have worried about someone seeing the messy state of your home. It’s not often people would come over, but when they did, you tried making the place presentable. After a couple of years, you just stopped trying. It was always going to be a mess. Working for the DPD gives you a good wage: although these days you’ve become less of a cop and more of an on-call technician and engineer for androids.

You pick up a discarded sweatshirt from the couch and toss it over to a nearby armchair instead. “Sit,” you gesture to the couch. “I’m going to finish up some dishes and then we can talk. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You busied yourself with cleaning up the last of the dishes from dinner. Every so often you look over your shoulder, at Connor who just sits there in the adjoining living room, staring off into space. Putting the last of the dishes away, you walk slowly back into the living room. “Hank seemed worried about you today,” you note. As you sit down on the couch with Connor, you notice that he’s frowning slightly. You tilt your head. “He worries, you know. He might be crass over just about everything, but he does care: in his own way.”

It doesn’t pull a response out of Connor.

“Hank told me you two were chasing a deviant today,” you say, keeping your voice soft. You haven’t encountered a deviant yet. Those jobs were just handed straight to Hank and Connor these days. But you would often ask Fowler for just one tiny opportunity to get your hands on an intact deviant brain. You wanted to know how this was happening. You had a theory, but you just needed some evidence of it.

Connor fidgets – a first. He picks at the cuff of his jacket. “A PL600 model was hiding on the roof of the Stratford Tower. He was involved in the hijacking of the TV station’s airway. We found him in one of the air ducts on the roof.”

He keeps his eyes fixed on something on the other side of the room. His fingers flex and twitch on his thighs. “I looked into his memories,” he recounts slowly. “I’ve done it countless times before.”

You hum. “What was different about this one, then?”

Connor’s jaw clenches slightly. “I...” his mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. It’s the first time he’s ever been like this. Connor always has a measured response to everything, no matter how big or small. You’ve never seen him struggle for words. “I was looking for something that could help us with the investigation. I managed to get a glimpse of something, just for a second, before...”

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and cup the back of his neck with your hand. It’s not the first time you’ve touched him. But you’re still surprised at how realistic the skin feels underneath your palm: how heat radiates off of it.  Connor’s eyelids snap shut. “Connor?”

“He shot himself, while I was inside his head,” he voice is tight, like how it usually is but something else is weaving through his words, “and when he died, I...I felt it. I felt what it was like to die. And I was afraid.”

Some part of your mind – the engineer and technician – is fascinated. That’s what you can see in Connor’s eyes. Fear. Pure fear. A human emotion swirling around android eyes.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to die.” His words are choked. As if something is lodging itself in his throat and stopping them from coming out. In an instant, there’s a single drop of clear liquid streaming down his cheek.

He’s...crying.

Something akin to a sob wracks through his throat. “I don’t want to die.”

“Oh, Connor,” you scoot forwards, wrapping your arms around him in a firm hug, “shh, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know what to do. I-I shouldn’t be feeling any of this, it’s not my programming-”

You continue to hush him, running a hand up and down his back. You look down between you and notice blue liquid seeping into the front of your shirt. Hank mentioned him getting shot, but he would be fine. You knew android skin well enough to know that Kamski made it self-restorative. The blue stain on your shirt doesn’t even bother you.

Connor presses his forehead against your shoulder, letting you hold him for a moment. Choked-off sobs wrack through his body, shaking him from the core, as he loosely brings his arms up to hold you against him. As his hands move across the small exposed patch of skin on your shoulder from your tank-top, you pause at how human-like his skin feels. It’s smooth, with not a blemish on it like human skin, but his touch is warm.

“Tell you what,” you mumble, resting your chin on top of his head, “we’ll get into pyjamas, go to bed for the night, and we’ll tell Fowler you’re taking the day off tomorrow.”

At that, Connor pulls away. His brow is creased in a frown. “No, I can’t, I have to go in – the case-”

“-Will be handled by Hank until we get your head sorted,” you run your fingers through his hair. It feels just as real as his skin. His eyelids flutter closed from the touch. “What d’ya say?”

It takes him a moment to agree, but when he does, you disentangle yourselves from each other and drag him to your room. He has his own at the other side of the house. Soon after working alongside Hank at the station, you began to wonder where it is that Connor actually stays. Hank’s house is too small for himself, let alone another person. And his attitude to androids meant that Connor definitely wasn’t going to be bunking with him anytime soon – even though, now, you start to wonder if his attitudes are changing, and he’s softening up a little.

He talks about Cyberlife all the time, but you wondered if he just returned to storehouses or labs whenever he was done his shift.

Eventually, you just offered him the spare room in your house.

He keeps his hand in yours, letting you lead him down the hallway as you turn off the lights behind you. He’s notably quieter now. One glance over your shoulder shows you what you already suspected. His LED is whirling yellow, with flickers and flashes of red appearing for a second before disappearing.

Your room is closer to the living room than his, so you shuffle him inside. He arches an eyebrow before you wave a hand. “I want to keep an eye on you during the night.”

He tilts his head slightly. “For anomalies?”

You start pulling down your sheets, shrugging a shoulder as he waits for an answer. “Yeah, sure.” Something was going on with his processor. As the weeks go on and more androids start deviating, you start to wonder why. Something in your mind screams that Kamski has something to do with it. You wouldn’t put it past the man to fuck with something in the androids’ systems before he ‘left’ Cyberlife.

As you finish with the sheets, you notice Connor is just standing near the door of your room. “Androids don’t require sleep,” he says, “you know that, (Y/N).”

“You’re right. You don’t need sleep. But you do need a moment to hibernate so your functions can re-right themselves from anything experienced today.” It’s also called sleeping, your mind suggests, just the androids’ version of it.

Connor does eventually get into bed, changing his uniform for one of your ex’s old tees that you never got around to getting rid of. As Connor rests his head against the pillow, you try not to smile at how his eyelids start to flicker closed. He struggles to keep them open. Androids don’t need sleep, huh? Sure.

You take the other side of the bed, rolling on to your side so you can face Connor. His LED is hidden on the other side of his face, but you know that androids are capable of showing emotions. “Get some rest,” you say softly, reaching out to push a curl from his forehead, “and tomorrow, we’ll look into these fears of yours.”

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh #d:bh #connor #connor x reader #connor/reader #detroit become human fanfic

[kathy3112-blog]

Grow (HankCon)

At first, things just seem to fall into place perfectly.

Connor is overjoyed when reuniting with Hank, his partner and friend pulling him into a hug, telling him he'd seen him on the news, leading all those androids. “I was so fucking proud, I couldn't stop grinning like an idiot. I'm pretty sure Jimmy thinks I've lost my goddamn mind.”

Connor laughs at the mental image of Hank sitting at the bar, cheering for the same android he used to hate not even a week ago. There's a warm feeling in his chest, which, Connor tells himself, must be a result of Hank's body temperature. It's the only thing that makes sense.

After a moment, Hank lets go, but he keeps his hands on Connor's shoulders, the smile never completely leaving his face.

“You know, if you have nowhere to go, then uh... I know it's not much, but you could stay at my place, and- you know, Sumo really misses you, and...”

Connor beams. “I would love to stay at your place, Lieutenant.”

Hank lets him borrow some of his old clothes and they're too big, but Connor is glad to be out of his uniform. “I'd burn the fucking thing if I were you”, Hank tells him. He also promises to buy him something to wear when the stores open again. Connor likes the thought – not only getting to choose his own attire, but also going shopping with Hank. Having something to look forward to feels nice, he realizes.

Connor also looks forward to going to work again, but the laws concerning employment and payment of androids have not yet been passed, so Hank has to go back to the DPD without his favorite plastic detective. This at least gives Connor some time to make himself useful around the house. He's glad to be able to repay Hank in another way while he cannot pay rent. Cleaning doesn't exactly come naturally to Connor as he's not a household model, but with a bit of research, he finds helpful protocols for AX400 androids. To make a good start, he collects and throws out the trash, does some laundry as well as the dishes, wipes down the counter-tops and sweeps the floor. Sumo seems to enjoy the unusual activity in the house and follows Connor almost everywhere he goes, watching him curiously. There are several breaks for playing and petting. Lastly, Connor opens the windows, making sure to ventilate the rooms without letting too much cold air inside. The house looks good to go and Sumo takes a nap after having been sufficiently entertained. With nothing left to do, Connor simply waits.

When Hank comes home, he immediately realizes something is off. Connor is a bit proud of himself. “Did- did you clean?”

“Yes, but I'm not completely finished yet. I should be by tomorrow.”

Hank insists that Connor doesn't need to do that for him, but it's not like he has better things to do at the moment. Besides, he wants to be helpful. Cleaning the place a little really isn't a problem for Connor.

Cooking, however, is another story. Frankly, Connor is horrible at it. Hank watches Connor burn almost every food he touches – eggs, pancakes, spaghetti. The only positive thing that can be said about Connor's cooking is that he's very consistent – no matter what he starts out with, it always ends up as the same unidentifiable black mess.

Hank finds it hysterical. Still, after a week of watching his state-of-the-art android almost set fire to his house over the most basic dishes, he declares the stove as a 'RK800-free zone' and starts cooking for himself again.

Hank used to hate cooking and had only done it for Cole. He was still young enough to love when Hank whipped up some noodles with ketchup and despise the vegetables his mother forced him to eat, so he never looked into more complicated dishes. Apart from that, Hank had mastered the art of flipping pancakes and when he gives that another try for the first time in years, he finds he's still able to pull it off. Connor enthusiastically compliments his skills, doe-eyes wide and full of admiration. Something tugs at Hank's heart, probably the nostalgia. He doesn't give it another thought, but starts to find cooking somewhat enjoyable when Connor is by his side.

Connor quickly realizes that once a house has been thoroughly cleaned, it takes a while for it to get dirty again. He also realizes that boredom is inescapable and horrible. Connor takes Sumo on so many walks that the dog either runs away or plays dead any time he sees the android.

He goes through Hank's horror movie collection and finds he enjoys them despite their mostly terrible plots. Hank is both fascinated and unsettled by how thoroughly unimpressed Connor looks even during the most gory scenes.

In his quest to keep himself entertained, Connor tries out a bunch of hobbies. Since it's December, he knits Hank a scarf, who pretends to be mortified, but never leaves the house without it. Connor also spends time with the people from Jericho, namely North, Simon, Josh and of course Markus, and Hank encourages him to invite them over sometime. He doesn't say it, but he likes having them around. Hank and North immediately get along, teasing each other like they've been friends forever and Connor isn't sure how he feels about it. One evening, Hank casually mentions how North kind of reminds him of his ex-wife, and Connor feels the words in his stomach, which shouldn't even be possible.

Emotions in general are confusing, and Connor doesn't like not being able to identify and neatly categorize every jolt in his chest, every body temperature alteration, every irregularity of his thirium pump; link all the sensations he experiences to specific, clean-cut feelings. He just wants everything to make sense, but it seems that's not how emotions work. Hank tells him humans are no better at figuring out what they want, which is equally reassuring and frustrating.

Despite everything, Connor slowly comes to terms with his newfound... personhood. When Connor complains about having nothing to do (Connor is way too good at complaining, Hank thinks, but then again, he'd already been a pain in the ass even before becoming a deviant), Hank asks Connor why he doesn't try painting, like Markus. Instead of saying 'I wasn't programmed to do creative tasks', he answers with “I'm not a really creative person”. It's the little things, but they count all the same.

Hank chuckles at that. “Knowing you, the first thing you did probably was to put some paint in your mouth.”

“Please, Lieutenant. I'd never do that.” He'd totally done that. Markus had been horrified. Hank laughs, because he knows. Connor can't fool him anymore.

Apart from boring himself to death, Connor spends the winter after the revolution trying to figure out who he is and what he wants to do. It's not an easy process.

Over dinner, he talks about how he hopes he can come back to the DPD soon, and Hank gives him an intense look. “Connor, are you sure that that's what you want?”

Connor tilts his head, LED spinning. Want. He still isn't used to wanting things, or having opinions on topics. Connor re-watches his recordings of past crime scenes, investigating clues, interrogations, working side by side with Hank. “I think...”, he starts. He takes an unnecessary breath. “I think I would like that. It's what I was programmed to do, so- I mean...” He looks for the right words. “I enjoy being a detective and... I think I'm good at it”, he finally says.

Hank smiles at him. “You're a great detective, Connor. Just wanted to make sure you're not doing it because you feel like you have to.”

There is warmth spreading through his entire body. Happiness. With a mix of pride, too. No matter what exactly it's called, it's a nice feeling, Connor decides.

Hank manages to find a thrift store that's still open. The owner is born and raised in Detroit, like himself, and he doesn't seem to be bothered by the evacuation status. He also talks way too much, but the important thing is, he doesn't mind androids. When Hank mentions it while they're having dinner (him eating and Connor insisting on sitting with him even though he doesn't eat), Connor's face immediately lightens up. It's weird to think that his goofy face used to be completely devoid of emotion.

They go the next day.

When Connor walks in, there is a lot to look at. The shop is dominated by warm colors, with an exposed brick wall as well as wooden floor, so unlike the modern stores with their monochromatic color palette and minimalist interior design. The clothing doesn't seem to be limited to a specific style or time period, and there's a lot of it. Honestly speaking, the place is kind of a mess, and Connor is eager to go explore. He looks at Hank. “Can I...?”

Connor is practically vibrating with excitement and Hank can't help but smile. “Knock yourself out, kid. Pick whatever you want, I've got ya.”

He chooses a few basics – dark jeans, a black button-down, a gray sweatshirt, a few plain t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants because Hank insists that one wears comfortable attire at home. Connor possesses a wide range of skills, but distinguishing comfortable from non-comfortable clothing isn't one of them. Still, he doesn't argue.

Hank also finds a few things for himself, occasionally asking for Connor's opinion on certain items.

It's nice, spending time together like this.

While Connor is browsing and Hank is reluctantly conversing with the shop owner, something catches his eye. It's a natural white sweater with an overall navy blue cactus print. It's kind of... weird, in a way? Still, there's something about it that Connor likes. Maybe Hank and his non-existent sense of fashion has started to rub off on him.

“What's wrong, Connor?”, Hank asks after a while. He looks at the offending piece of clothing. It's cute, honestly. “You wanna try it on?”

“According to my measurements, it's one size too big.”

Hank shrugs. “That's cool, though. A lot of people prefer it that way.”

Connor is conflicted. He's made decisions that shaped the future of androids and humanity, but now a sweater is causing him mental distress.

Emotions are weird.

“Come on, Connor, just try it on”, Hank says, putting his hand on the small of Connor's back and leading him towards the changing booth.

When Connor is done changing and pushes the curtain to the side, Hank's eyes widen. “Oh”, he says. “Shit, you, uh- you look really-”

“I'll be damned”, the shop owner chimes in. “That's your android?”, he asks, turning to Hank, who seems a little irritated, all of a sudden. Connor feels a little frustrated as well – he wanted to hear what Hank was going to say.

“Hello. My name is Connor.”

“Oh. Right.” He looks at Connor for a few seconds, eyeing him suspiciously, then immediately back to Hank. “That's a really pretty face. What's his purpose?”

Hank is starting to look seriously irritated, and Connor kind of wants to leave. “I was designed to assist human law enforcement, specifically by investigating cases involving deviant androids”, he says evenly. “Of course, now, things have ch-”

“An android detective, eh? And now, he lives with you? I mean, surely, you guys are-”

“Would you look at the time!”, Hank exclaims. “I'm afraid we have to get going. Pleasure talking with you, though.”

Connor changes back into his old clothes and when he gets out of the booth, Hank has already paid and seems eager to leave. The shop owner tells them he's looking forward to seeing them the next time.

“We're not going back there ever again”, Hank immediately says when they're out the door.

Connor is a bit disappointed. “He was... nice enough.”

“God, the way he asked me questions about you while you were standing right there? I hate that. Like you're some kind of...”, Hank gesticulates angrily, “animal.”

“Some people find it difficult to talk directly to androids and would rather converse with human-”

“Connor, you don't have to take that kind of bullshit. You're a person and you should be treated like one.”

Connor feels his lips curl up into a smile. After a few seconds, he adds, “he said I have a pretty face.”

Hank snorts. “No shit. Bet he's never seen someone this attractive in his shitty store before.”

Connor's thirium pump stutters and heat rushes to his face. Attractive. “Didn't you say I look goofy and have a weird voice?”, he asks, struggling to keep his voice even.

“Connor, for someone who's supposed to be smart, you can be pretty damn stupid.”

“Markus, I'm confused.”

He looks up from the canvas and sets his brush and palette on the table, turning to Connor to give him his full attention. Markus could effortlessly listen and paint at the same time, but Connor appreciates the gesture.

“What's on your mind, Connor?”

It's easy to talk to Markus, even for someone who's awkward when it comes to conversations, like Connor.

“I'm having trouble with identifying my feelings towards Hank. I thought we were friends, but I find myself behaving and reacting differently around him than around the people of Jericho, for example. More... irrational.” He paces around the room while Markus watches patiently, waiting for Connor to continue talking. “I get nervous when I shouldn't be. I seek his attention even when there's no reason to do so, just for the sake of spending time together. When we're physically close, several of my biocomponents start malfunctioning.” He throws his hands up in frustration. It feels like a very human gesture. “It doesn't make any sense! I'm certain I didn't feel like this before.”

“Connor, you're smart. I'm sure you know what all of this implies.” He raises an eyebrow.

Connor crosses his arms, frowning. “You're saying I may be... infatuated.”

Markus shrugs, an amused expression on his face. “I was gonna say you're in love, but you can call it whatever you want.”

Connor looks around, pondering. “I guess I never considered the possibility that he looks at me that way.”

“What way?”, Markus asks, a knowing smile on his face. He's really going to make Connor say it.

He sighs. “As a... potential partner for a relationship. Not like partners at work, but with the involvement of romantic feelings and sexual attraction.”

“I know what a relationship is, Connor”, Markus chuckles. “Question is, is that something you're interested in?”

Connor remains silent, LED spinning yellow. “I'm... not sure”, he admits after a while.

“You're gonna have to find out.”

“I know. I wish I could just run a diagnostic, but that has proven to be useless.”

“Emotions aren't that easy”, Markus says, and Connor nods. “Emotions always screw everything up.”

Connor sighs. He's still confused, but he feels better after having talked about it. “Thank you for listening to me, Markus.”

“Any time, Connor.”

UNDERSTAND THE NATURE OF MY FEELINGS TOWARDS HANK

Connor's never had an objective like this and honestly speaking, he's not sure where to begin.

ask Hank directly?

No, surely not.

Gather empirical evidence?

View examples of romantic relationships?

Well, it's a start.

Connor does some research on recommended romance movies and looks through Hank's movie collection. Surprisingly, he does find a fair amount of romantic movies, some with comedic elements, but most of them with sad endings. Apparently, Hank has watched a classic called 'Titanic' a total of 12 times, so Connor starts with that one. It's based off a real event, so it should be interesting.

3 hours and 15 minutes later, Connor is still confused, but for another reason. Taking into consideration the material as well as size of the wooden door and how its buoyancy would be affected by the salt content of the North Atlantic Ocean, Jack should have been able to survive.

But putting all that aside, the movie has given Connor some insight to romantic feelings and relationships. However, now he's unsure what to do with that knowledge, so maybe this had been a dumb idea from the start. Connor leans back against the back of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling, and lets out an agitated groan. Sumo growls compassionately.

Later, when they're outside for their afternoon walk, Connor finds himself pre-constructing scenarios involving Hank. They have no real-world applications and most of them have to do with the movie he'd watched. But in place of the two leading actors, he imagines himself and Hank being there, running away with each other, showing the other what their world is like, falling in love.

“I'm flying, Hank.”

No, that doesn't look right.

“I'm flying, Connor.”

Connor snorts at the mental image, and Sumo throws him a curious gaze.

On a more serious note, he finds that he would very much like to dance with Hank. Kissing looks intriguing, as well, even though the thought causes an unfamiliar queasy feeling in his abdomen. Finally, Connor rewatches the scene in the car – disrobed bodies pressed against each other, hushed whispers, a hand coming up to press against a fogged window...

Connor comes to a sudden halt.

He swallows, but the lump in his throat won't go away. Suddenly, he's very aware of his artificial heartbeat drumming in his ears.

“Oh shit”, he mumbles.

Connor is analytical and detail-oriented, able to reconstruct sequences at crime scenes and capable of adapting to any team, acting as a perfect partner. To put it short, he's good at a lot of things.

Making advances towards someone is not one of them.

His social module doesn't tell him anything about how to convey his romantic feelings to someone. CyberLife probably hadn't anticipated for Connor to be able to fall in love.

He still can't quite believe it, either.

Connor doesn't have any experience in this regard, but somehow, he has a feeling that if he chooses to confess, and his feelings were not reciprocated, it would create a barrier between him and Hank. The idea of being turned down is painful, but losing what they have right now entirely is an unbearable thought. What if he throws me out and never talks to me again?

Connor decides to do what he's good at – look for clues, analyze the situation, assess the probability of success. He has to be patient.

When the evacuation gets lifted, the city slowly, but surely comes back to life. It also becomes a more android-friendly place, with more and more pro-android laws being passed, and Markus having reclaimed CyberLife for their kind, transforming the stores to places for androids to go to in need for repairs or spare parts, updates and modifications. “Android hospital”, Hank had called it.

It will take a lot more for androids to be regarded as rightful citizens, but generally, things are looking brighter for everybody.

At least, that's what should be happening.

Hank has been frustrated lately. He doesn't really talk about it, but Connor knows that there has been an increase in violence against androids since the revolution – the humans feeling hostile towards androids are in the minority, but they make up for it with how ruthless they are.

Hank sees so many plastic-white bodies leaking blue onto the floor, people who thought they were finally free, finally safe, brutally having their life taken from them – and he can't stop imagining Connor soon being one of them. Everyday, he asks himself whether he will come home to find his android on the kitchen floor, his face as lifeless as when they had first met. The closer they get, the more the thought hurts, until it becomes unbearable.

Hank starts coming home later than usual, more often than not so intoxicated that he needs help getting to his bed. Connor hopes it's a phase, that Hank's going through an emotional slump. He tries his best to stay supportive and optimistic, reminding himself of the glimpses of Hank's true personality he's been able to catch during their time together – the Hank he fell in love with.

As the snow melts, it seems like Hank's will to move on vanishes with it. The days get longer, but Hank spends the majority of them unconscious, either asleep or drunk.

Connor feels helpless. Markus tells him to give it time, that setbacks are a normal part of recovery. North tells him to kick his ass.

The days trickle by, and Connor spends them on the couch, curled up with Sumo, constantly worried. He can't remember the last time his LED has been shining in a calm blue. Sometimes, he finds himself wishing he hadn't found out about his feelings. Maybe if they were just friends, it wouldn't hurt this much.

The Saint Bernard in his lap gives a little whine.

“You want to go on a walk, Sumo?”

He shows no intent of moving, but watches Connor curiously, which is as much of an agreement he's going to get.

“Okay, boy, come on”, he says, standing up. Sumo follows, reluctant to get up at first, but happy enough once they're actually outside. Connor desperately needs the distraction as well. For a moment, he allows himself to just observe, take in the nature coming back to life after a long, hard winter around him. Many humans believe that being outdoors can have a soothing, even healing effect. Connor doesn't know if that also applies to androids, but being outside beats sitting on the couch, feeling like the walls are starting to close in around him.

“What do you think, Sumo? An hour to myself surely won't do any harm, right?”

Sumo boofs in what Connor believes to be agreement.

They're wrong.

When they return home, the first thing Connor sees is the gun on the table.

REVOLVER

.357 Magnum

1 bullet remaining

Connor feels like he's been punched in the gut. His synthetic heart thuds in his chest, LED cycling red. Several dialogue boxes pop up, warning him about a detected thirium pump irregularity and rising stress level, but he only pays attention to one.

FIND HANK

“Lieutenant?”, he calls out. His mind is racing, scanning the house for any sign of his partner. There's a bottle of whiskey on the table - blacklambscotchwhiskey40%alcoholcontent – but Hank is neither in the kitchen, nor the living room. Connor runs to the corridor, checking the bedroom, then the bathroom. He finds Hank in front of the mirror, clutching the sink.

Connor lets out an unnecessary breath, feeling most of the tension leave his body. “Lieutenant, I was worried about you.” Hank lifts his head, not really looking at Connor, but rather through him. He sighs and leaves the bathroom without saying a word, lightly shoving Connor out of the way. His relief is quickly overshadowed by frustration.

“Lieutenant!” He walks after Hank to find him in the kitchen, drinking from the whiskey bottle. Connor clenches his fists, barely resisting the urge to slap it out of his hand.

“You should stop drinking, Lieutenant.”

No reaction.

Connor grits his teeth. It's enough. He walks over and grabs the whiskey. “I need you to stop drinking and listen to me.”

Finally, Hank acknowledges him, and he's mad. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Connor can think of quite a few things, but he goes with the most imminent one. “You promised you'd stop playing that stupid game!”

“What do you care?”, Hank sneers.

Connor's stress level is going through the roof. “Do you not understand the gravity of the situation?” He clenches his fists. “You are toying with your life. You could actually die!”

“So what?”, Hank barks. “Stop acting like you give a shit. You wouldn't miss me. Nobody would miss me. Why can't you just fuck off already?” He pushes Connor, not hard enough to actually make him lose his balance, but he's so caught off guard that he takes two steps back anyway. His body feels cold and his breathing simulation program has stopped working. He can't do anything but stare at his partner, breaking apart before his eyes yet again, after all they've been through.

“Just leave! Get the fuck out of here!”, he shouts.

Connor inhales, and the breath burns in his artificial lungs. “Hank, I don't...” His own voice sounds foreign in his ears, and he realizes there's a subtle layer of static to it. Hank looks at him like he's been slapped. Only then does Connor realize that there's something wet on his cheeks.

For the first time in his life, he's crying.

Now it's Hank's turn to be at a loss for words, just staring at Connor.

There's a moment of silence between them before Connor speaks again. “You're so important to me, Hank”, he chokes out. “Seeing you like this, it's... it hurts.” He unconsciously touches his chest, where his thirium pump sits. “It hurts, and I don't know what to do, because I'm so fucking terrified of losing you.”

He doesn't tell Hank he loves him, but he's sure he just revealed his feelings anyway. Hank is a good detective, he must have it all figured out. It's not the confession he wanted, but there's no going back.

Emotions aren't pretty.

“C-Connor, I... I'm not...” Hank starts.

Connor cries quietly, no sobbing or sniffling, just tears running down his slightly scrunched-up, but still perfect face. He's so beautiful, even with sadness clouding his features. Hank feels like there's a fist closing around his heart.

“God, Connor, I...” Hank finds himself unable to speak, and he hates himself for it. Even after Connor pours his fucking heart out to him, he still just can't open his stupid mouth.

And of course, Connor understands, because Connor is too perfect for this world. “We don't have to talk right now, Lieutenant. Just... can we go to bed, please?”

Hank gives up and nods. Connor takes his hand and leads him to the the bedroom. They wordlessly change into their sleepwear and lie down together, bodies facing each other, but both of them looking away. The silence is suffocating. Androids can't get tired, but Connor is emotionally exhausted. He's completely spent but somehow, still restless.

Hank seems to feel the same way. “Connor, I...”, he starts, voice unsteady. “About what you said at the bridge, after the Eden Club...” His eyes flick up to meet Connor's. “I don't want you to adapt to my needs and personality. I want you to be yourself. To choose who you truly want to be.”

Connor's LED spins, shining blue in the dimly lit room. “I already did, and I chose to be with you.”

Hank searches Connor's face, looking for any signs of dishonesty or uncertainty. When he doesn't find any, he exhales sharply through his nose, expression softening. “You know, Connor, sometimes I think you're better at this whole being-human-thing than I'll ever be.”

Connor smiles softly, finding Hank's hand to intertwine their fingers. Hank shows no signs of discomfort at the gesture, aside from his heart rate picking up slightly. “I wouldn't be here without you, Lieutenant. You're the one who showed me I was capable of being empathetic, of feeling human emotions.”

“I didn't do anything. Markus was the one who deviated you.”

Connor shakes his head. “He wouldn't have succeeded if it weren't for you, if we hadn't become friends. I first started having doubts when I saved you on that roof instead of chasing after Rupert. In fact, I suspect I may have started showing signs of deviancy way earlier than I realized.” Connor smiles softly. “I do act irrationally when I'm around you.”

Hank smiles back, and Connor feels a rush of affection wash over him. He's extremely aware of how close they are. Somehow, he wants be even closer, but he's afraid to rush things. They should deal with one problem at a time and right now, Hank needs time and space to heal, and Connor wants to give Hank whatever he needs to be happy.

“Connor?”, Hank asks after 7 minutes of silence, voice low.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“You know that I don't actually want you to go, right?” His voice is small, and something in Connor's chest aches.

Connor brings his hand up to gently cup Hank's face, acting purely on instinct. “I'm not going to leave you”, Connor says, his voice unwavering and his eyes full of sincerity.

For a second, Hank forgets how to breathe. Then, he nods, allowing himself to believe.

Hank isn't a man of words. He doesn't make promises, he doesn't apologize.

Instead, the next day, he gets up early, careful not to wake Connor, and takes a hot shower, scrubbing every inch of his body he can reach. Afterwards, he trims his beard and puts his hair in a ponytail. He then proceeds to empty out every single bottle of alcohol in his possession.

When Connor finds him, Hank is in the kitchen, dressed in his nicest suit, sending the last drops of whiskey down the drain. Connor doesn't need words, he understands what Hank wants to say. He puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I'm very proud of you, Lieutenant.”

For the first time in weeks, he looks Connor straight in the eyes when answering. “I should have done this years ago”, he huffs. “Connor, can... can I ask you a favor?”

The way to the graveyard is quiet.

Hank has never been to Cole's grave when it wasn't the anniversary, so it's an unusual scenery, seeing the trees and flowers coming back to life around this place that is full of death and past memories.

They come to a halt in front of the grave. Someone's been taking care of it, probably his ex-wife. She's always been better at dealing with her feelings. Hank tends to run away from everything that reminds him of reality, but having Connor next to him helps, like he's keeping him grounded, in a way. He takes a deep breath and looks at the headstone, allowing himself to think, to remember.

Cole Anderson

Sep. 23 2029

Oct. 11 2035

Forever in our hearts

Connor puts down the bouquet and little toy police car they picked out together. Apparently, Cole had wanted to fight crime when he grew up, like his dad. It's painful to think about – that not all dreams come true. Cautiously, he reaches out to put his hand on the marble surface, letting his artificial skin bleed away so there is no barrier. Connor closes his eyes. I wish we could have met. Nothing in the world can replace you, but I will do anything I can to make Hank find happiness again. I promise I'll take care of him.

Connor stands up to stay next to Hank, giving him as much time as he needs to be alone with his thoughts. He holds Hank when he cries and gently wipes away his tears when he's ready to leave. They don't speak much, but it feels like a huge step in the right direction.

There are still bad days, when Hank's eyes won't really meet Connor's and he refuses to talk. Some days, Hank lets Connor at least hold him through the night, and other days, he sleeps on the couch. Their relationship is far from perfect but Connor wouldn't trade it for anything.

Connor learns about the kind of person he is and in a way, Hank does, too. He rediscovers the person he used to be, but he also uncovers new things about himself. Turns out, his personality isn't set in stone and he isn't just waiting for his life to be over. He's right at the beginning of a new chapter.

“How is your relationship with the Lieutenant evolving?”

Connor looks up from the book he's been reading – Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe – to Markus, who's now standing in front of the piano he'd just been playing. “Well...”, Connor starts, a little embarassed. “Things are going well, but... He hasn't said it back yet. That he loves me, I mean.” Connor has told Hank few times now. He just wants him to know that he does, and that he's proud of all the progress he's making. Lately, however, he's started having doubts. “Maybe I've been misreading the signs. Maybe my feelings aren't reciprocated. I just assumed, after everything we've done together.” Connor looks to the ground. “I hope I'm not making him uncomfortable.”

“I'm sure he just needs time. The Lieutenant seems like a very... straight-forward person. And he cares a lot about you. I'm sure he'd let you know if he did in fact not return your feelings.”

“I guess you're right.” Connor lightly pulls at one of his hoodie strings, sighing. “You're always right.”

Markus chuckles. “It's my thing.”

“Did you know Hank calls you 'android Jesus'?”

“Is... that a compliment?”

“Of course! I think.”

Coming back to the DPD is a nerve-wracking process. Usually, Connor would have to go the academy like everybody else, but considering his abilities and background, Fowler comes forward with a proposal. Connor has to go through an exam and firearm training, after which Fowler will personally decide whether or not he can come back to the team.

The exam is hell, and Connor has to fight the urge to hide whenever he sees Captain Fowler for several weeks afterwards, but when he finally gets his badge, he's deliriously happy.

“I know androids can't dream yet, but... Is this really happening, Lieutenant?”

Hank gives him the softest smile. “It sure is, Connor. You earned it.” He puts an arm around Connor. “I'm really proud of you.”

Most people at the station are welcoming when Connor comes back. Some even apologize for their behavior, explaining how they assumed androids didn't actually feel anything.

“It's fine”, Connor always says patiently. “I used to think the same way. Let's just put all of this behind us and work together.”

Of course, some people never change.

“Look who it is”, Gavin calls from his desk, as he so often does. Even after more than a month, he still doesn't seem to get tired of annoying Connor. He's starting to think it may actually be a poor attempt at making friends. “It's Lieutenant Anderson's personal sex doll.” He's the only one who laughs. Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. People at the station have started to notice that Hank's mental state has improved since Connor started living with him and Gavin, of course, loves being a dick about it. “You should ask Fowler for a private office, since he loves both of you so much.”

Connor finally looks at Gavin, keeping his facial expression as neutral as possible. “Detective Reed, I'm happy to inform you that CyberLife still has numerous RK800 androids available.”

Gavin knits his brows. “Why the fuck would I-”

“Maybe if you got your own Connor model, you would finally be able to stop fantasizing about my sex life and focus on your work instead.”

Gavin's jaw clenches. There's muffled laughter coming from some people at their desks. Even Officer Chen, who is usually on Gavin's side, is hiding her face behind a hand, trying to cover up her giggles by acting like she's having a cough. Connor turns around, but not before giving Gavin the sweetest, most innocent smile he can muster. He goes to his desk to find Hank, who shamelessly gives him a high-five.

“Did you download some manual on sassing people?”

Connor grins. “No, I just had a great teacher.”

In summer, things are looking... good. They spend most of their time together, and Connor is happy. He discovers his love for gardening, and Hank finds he loves watching Connor work outside, his hair shining golden in the sun, smears of dirt on his face, and Sumo trying to get the android to play with him. It's pure and domestic, and it fills a space in his heart that has been empty for a very long time.

On the rare occasion when Connor isn't with Hank, he's surrounded by other good people. He spends his time with Markus, enjoying the quiet moments he watches him paint just as much as their conversations. The painting he's currently working on is dominated by a blue color palette, with a front view of a face. The person has soft features and is looking upwards. Markus steps away from the canvas, regarding it with a neutral expression.

“So, what's your verdict, Connor?”

Connor always claims he isn't the best person to ask, but Markus insists that he should just listen to his heart, tell him what he feels when looking at the painting. Connor can't put his finger on it, but he especially likes this one. It has a... hopeful feeling to it, and feels familiar, in a way.

“There's something about it, I... I really like it. What inspired you?”

“Actually, it's you.”

It takes Connor a second, but when he processes the meaning behind those words, heat rushes to his face. “Oh”, he says stupidly. “Markus, I don't... I don't deserve this.”

Markus smiles warmly at him. “Connor, you have been a great help to our cause. None of us would be where we are if it weren't for you. But, all that aside...” He puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. “I just like spending time with you. I consider you a great friend.”

Connor is at a loss for words, looking at his feet and smiling ear to ear. Yes, he's very happy.

“No, I'm telling you, Reed is as straight as an arrow.”

“Chris, you're full of shit. That guy is a power bottom if I've ever seen one.”

“Hank, I really didn't need that mental image.”

“Stop bitchin', Ben, and accept the truth.”

Connor chuckles to himself. These are men of the law, protecting the citizens of Detroit. He guesses it's okay since they're in their free time.

This has become a regular thing, going out for drinks together. The first time Ben had invited them, he had included Connor so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing for the android to hang out with them. Now, it's like he just... belongs. He's no longer the odd one out, he's part of the team. The thought still warms his synthetic heart.

They arrive at Jimmy's bar, and Connor holds the door open for the other three. Ben tips an imaginary hat at him, Chris says “Why, thank you, sir” and Hank stops for a second, then mutters “ass kisser”. Yeah, he really likes those people.

Connor smirks. “Maybe if you ask nicely, Lieutenant.”

Hank snorts and hurries inside, not quite fast enough to hide his reddening face. Connor lets the door close after him, and he catches a glimpse of the fairly new “androids are welcome”-sign. Markus is still working on completely ending the segregation since legally, by householder's right, shop keepers are still allowed to deny androids entrance. Nevertheless, there are more and more safe spaces for their kind. Things are definitely changing, and it's reassuring to say the least.

Jimmy spots their group as they take their regular seat at the bar and nods in greeting. “Same as always?”

“You know it, Jimmy.”

The barkeeper directs his attention to the android. “Connor, my man, I've got something special for you, just you wait.”

Hank laughs as Jimmy pours Connor a glass, back turned to them so that Connor can't see the bottle. 'If you scan it before you drink it, it ruins the surprise', he'd once said. Connor didn't want to argue, especially since the barkeeper went out of his way to do something for him. Jimmy used to hate androids – or at least say that he did – but over time, he appears to have taken a liking to Connor.

Jimmy turns around with a shot glass filled with what appears to be red whine, enough for Connor to occasionally sip throughout the evening, since he doesn't really drink. He just... repeatedly samples, in a way. Still, it makes him feel more included in the activity than just sitting there without any drink at all.

“You're spoiling him, Jimmy.”

“Come on, that's the least I can do.” Jimmy pours some Scotch for the other three. Neat for Hank, straight up for Chris and Ben. “I promise you, as soon as they make alcohol for androids, I'll get my hands on it.”

They laugh. “I'd pay to see Connor drunk.”

“It'd certainly be an interesting experience”, Connor says, a little bashful. He doesn't know if he'd actually want that.

They clink glasses and Connor takes his first sip of the wine. His LED blinks yellow as he processes the liquid. A little dialogue window pops up.

Merlot – Red wine from Bordeaux

13% Alcohol content

Ingredients: Potassium Sorbate, Potassium Metabisulfite, Clacium Carbonate, Sulfur Dioxide, Sugar, Grape Juice Concentrate, Water

122 calories per serving

“Oh”, Connor says. “From Bordeaux?”

Jimmy nods. “You like it?”

Connor looks at his glass and contemplates for a second. “Yes, actually. It's the most interesting wine I've tried yet.”

“Cool”, Jimmy smiles. He's always happy when he finds something Connor likes. Apart from that one time, when they had made Connor try Scotch and his face scrunched up from something similar to disgust and everybody was laughing. Hank didn't understand how Connor could put dried blood in his mouth and keep a straight face but have such a strong reaction when drinking Scotch. Connor didn't understand, either, he just marked whiskey as 'avoid if possible', along with coffee – which meant he liked both less than paint, which he marked as 'indifferent'.

They fall into easy conversation. Connor still struggles with small talk or coming up with topics off the top of his head, so he listens most of the time, occasionally taking a sip from his wine.

“No, you do it more like this.” Connor flicks the coin to the side, effortlessly catching it between the index and middle finger of his other hand.

Chris flicks the coin, but then drops it for the 28th time this evening. “Damnit!”

“It's hopeless”, Hank chimes in. “I've tried countless times, it's impossible with our inferior human hands.”

“Come on”, Ben clasps Chris' shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

“Actually”, Hank says, standing up. “I'm gonna have to tap out, sorry. I've had enough for today.”

“Already?”, Chris asks.

“You're becoming a lightweight, Hank”, Ben teases.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank puts on his coat, and Connor follows suit. They say their goodbyes and step outside into the crisp September air.

For a moment, they walk in comfortable silence. Hank guides them to a park, where they sit down on a bench. Connor suspects there's something he wants to talk about, so he waits patiently, not saying anything.

“You're wearing your cactus sweater”, Hank comments.

“I am.”

“You, uh-” Hank clears his throat. “You look cute in it. That's what I was gonna say. Back then, at... at the thrift store. Yeah.”

Connor feels a blush creeping up on his face, a smile tugging on his lips. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

There's more silence.

“Connor, I, uh...”, Hank starts again after 6 more minutes. “There's something I wanted to talk about.”

No shit, Connor's mind sasses. “What is it?”

Hank leans back, taking a shuddering breath, and bracing himself. “Fuck, I really wanted to have this conversation sober, but I guess it's now or never.”

Connor tilts his head, waiting.

“Connor, you... you helped me out of a really dark place, and, just- I wanted to thank you. I owe you so much, and- shit, I don't tell you enough how much I appreciate having you around.”

“Hank, I-”

Hank puts his hand on top of Connor's, and his mouth snaps shut.

“That's not all”, Hank murmurs softly. “I'm not good at this, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it.” He brings Connor's hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. Connor's not simulating breathing or blinking anymore, he just sits there, completely still, staring at Hank's face. A smile plays on his lips, eyes warm and crinkling.

“I love you, Connor.”

Connor finds himself unable to speak. There are several windows popping up, warnings flashing before his eyes, but he can't focus on them as his vision blurs alarmingly.

“Con, are you alright?” He registers Hank's worried voice and gentle hand touching his cheek, wiping away clear, thirium-based lachrymal fluid.

“I'm okay”, he says, voice cracking.

Hank shuffles forward, pulling Connor into a hug that he immediately melts into. “I'm okay”, he repeats, murmuring into Hank's chest. “I thought... I was starting to think you didn't-”

“Fuck, Con, how could I not? You mean everything to me. I know, I should have told you earlier. I was just... It's scary, loving someone this much. Especially after... After everything.”

“I understand”, Connor says, because fuck, he doesn't know what he'd do if he ever lost Hank.

They break apart after a while, but neither of them wants to let go of the other completely.

“May...”, Connor starts. His LED blinks yellow for a second as he remembers something, before going back to blue. “May I kiss you, Lieutenant?”

Hank sputters. “God, Connor, don't ask me like that, with the fucking title and everything-” He averts his gaze, his face and neck turning red.

“Is that a no?”

Hank side-eyes him. “It's a yes, you stupid seductive android.”

Connor smiles. Slowly, he brings his hand up to cup Hank's cheek, using his thumb to sweep across his cheekbone and jaw, feeling the texture of his skin and stubble. He's feeling a bit anxious, all of a sudden, despite wanting this for so long. “I'm not quite sure how to do this, so I apologize if I-”

Hank leans forward, and the soft brush of his lips against Connor's is enough to shut him up immediately. It's over almost as soon as it begins, just a gentle press of Hank's mouth against his own, but Connor still feels dazed.

He stares at Hank's face, at a loss for words. His breathing is labored, his pupils slightly dilated. Connor's hands have apparently traveled to Hank's shoulders, where they are clutching his jacket.

It's suddenly become quite difficult to form coherent sentences. “Can... can we... again?” “Shit, of course”, Hank breathes.

Connor yanks him back into a deeper kiss while one of Hank's hand slides around the back of his head, tangling it in his hair, the other going around Connor's waist, pulling him closer. Their bodies seem to fit together perfectly, lips moving slowly and surely against each other. This is a lot better.

Connor catches Hank's lower lip between his teeth, gently tugging at it, and gets a low, breathy groan in response that sends a rush of heat through his system. So, so much better.

Hank moves back, taking a shuddering breath. “Jesus, Connor, I need to breathe. Shit”, he says, voice wavering.

Connor licks his lips, his system breaking down the traces of human saliva, as well the whiskey and beer Hank had at the bar. His thirium pump is still going a mile a minute.

Hank appears to be in a similar state. “Fuck, Connor”, he says, still breathless, “did you install a program for making out, or something?”

“No, I just... watched some movies.” For a few seconds, they say nothing, just allowing their heartbeats to slow down. “Some of your movies, in fact. I always knew you were a romantic at heart”, Connor teases.

Hank lets out a breathy laugh before saying, “shut up, and let's get going.” He gets up, dragging Connor along with him. “I want to finish this conversation at home.”

Shit, Connor can't wait. They've got a lot to catch up on. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

Hank chuckles softly, and Connor can't help smiling with him.

He's glad to be alive.

connor: what is love

hank: baby don't hurt me

connor: i would never hurt you

hank: oh no it's just an old song-

connor, in partner mode: i would never let anyone hurt you

markus, in the distance: goddammit just kiss already

#detroit become human #dbh #hankcon #hank x connor

[unbefuckinglieveable]

Remember Me? Part One.

    Connor was  typically optimistic, he loved his job, Sumo, his quarter,  and of course his father Hank. Even though the elder human used to call him a plastic prick, Hank changed, and so had Connor.  After the revolution peacefully ended and the androids began to leave hiding. Connor was able to stay with the DPD. Life was good, staying with Hank.  The chiding that had gone back and forth… it felt, like comfort, and home.

     However, currently it was not a happy home, Connor sat alone in the kitchen staring at an empty bottle of whiskey peeking out of the trash. It was the last one Hank had finished before it happened.  Connor had almost gone into stasis just staring at it. Only snapping out of it long enough to take care of Sumo now and then. Sumo had become his primary objective while Hank was, ‘Away’.

     Saying his father was in the hospital because of a stray PL600 was too much for the Android.  Connor once felt the sting of Daniel's death, however, Now it was hard to look at the model without feeling anger.  Another emotion left on the emotion board ( Hank's way of teaching Connor, an emotion and a slight description i.e. “ Wanna punch Reed, that's anger” ).   

     He waited, for Markus  to see if any of his people had seen the stray, for the hospital to call. If the hospital  called, Hank lived, or Connor lost his fath-Connor lost everything. There were times Connor  wished that he could go back to factory settings, if he had a human heart, the guilt would kill him.  

~~

    “Lieutenant? I think you should stop staring at that picture.”  Connor warned, eyeing the picture of Cole with the slightest hint of frustration  in his voice. Hank was beyond drunk, or even the “Drunker” he had explained helped him think. Hank was morbid. And the gun in his hand didn't  have just one bullet this time. It held four.

     “You have a 66.67 percent chance of dying now. This isn't  a game, it's suicide, Hank.” Connor had protested.

      Hank glared at the android scolding him.  Who the fuck was he to tell him what to do. “ Great, I get to be with my son.  I don't have to live in this fucked up world where the only things convinced I should live is a dog, and a Plastic prick, like you Connor.  Get the fuck outta my house.” The elder had growled and put the gun to his head and pulling the trigger.

      Lucky for Connor, Hank fell into the 33.33%  chance that it was an empty slot, the gun clicked uselessly. Connor lunged across the table and wretched the gun free from Hank's  grasp. Hank stood grabbing his coat from the back of the chair.

    Then something occurred  to Connor, Hank really did think of Connor as just a machine, a Thing.  “What, you ran outta whiskey so you're  gonna go looking for trouble!” Connor yelled in anger, he thought Hank was past calling him a ‘ Plastic Prick’

      “If I come home and you're still here, you will wish, that  you would have shot yourself on revolution day.” Hank warned looking at the younger before walking out the front  door and slamming the screen door in an inebriated fury.

With Connor’s  stress raising to a steep 78.49 percent, he let hank go.

~~

Connor snapped to as his auditory receptors picked  up the ringtone of his phone. He answered hastily, “Hello, this is Connor.” He said the voice on the opposite  was a male early thirties, and by the sick scratchy tone to his voice, he shouldn't be working. “HI, I am Angelo calling  from Detroit Receiving hospital, I was supposed to call once Hank Anderson woke up from surgery for questioning. He is in recovery now if you are available?” Angelo questioned through the  phone.

     “Of Course, I am on my way, what time is it?” Connor responded looking around as he stood grabbing  a sweatshirt from the back of his chair. He had noticed the light peeking thru the curtains, but time had all out escaped him. With his clothes in the was baggy jeans, a dress shirt  and a suit jacket were going to have to do. He stood calmly picking up a bag of clothes for Hank, in case they released him.

     “It is 12:30 in the afternoon detective. Shall I let Hank know you're  coming?” Angelo questioned calmly he could hear Connor fussing with something in the background, then he heard a bark. OK, a dog then.  

    “No this isn't  just business, it is also personal, he'd be  happy to get a surprise.” Then Connor thought about it, hand threatened to kill him. However Connor wouldn't  mind so much, the Lieutenant is probably too weak to kill this deviant hunter and they could talk it out,right? “Bye Sumo!” Connor  said shutting the door behind him sighing softly.

    “I'll  be there in twenty minutes thank you Angelo, have a good day.” Without waiting for a response, Connor  clicked off the phone and began walking. Thinking to himself ‘please forgive me, please be okay, please forgive me,’ Connor didn't  realize the more he thought the faster he moved until he was sprinting to the hospital.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #detroit become human #detroit: bh #detroit connor #sad #trigger warning #russian roulette #to be continued #fisrt time tagging #whoops #softgreysweatersbutwithfanfic #pandorafics #pandorafic #Remember Me

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Where the Stars Shine the Brightest: Chapter Three

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Markus/Connor Rating: Mature Word Count: 4958 Alternate: AO3, fanfiction.net Author's Note: Thank you to deviantparker for beta reading this chapter!!

:February 4th, 2039:

He doesn’t want to be alone. It’s too quiet. He has too many thoughts. Too many urges. He doesn’t like being alone. He wishes someone were here with him. He wants to do things. He wants to do bad things. Bad things to himself.

Hank is at the DPD. Fowler called him in. Didn’t call Connor in. Connor offered to go as well but Hank gave him a weird look and told him it’s probably best he stay at the house. It confused Connor. They’re partners, aren’t they? They are supposed to work the cases together, right? Why couldn’t he go too?

He has Hank’s gun in his hand and he is looking at it. There’s only one bullet in the chamber. Hank used to play Russian roulette with it. Does he still do that? He stopped drinking. Does he still play? Should Connor play?

Sumo whines from behind him and Connor puts the gun back where he found it. He wouldn’t want to get Thirium all over the place, all over the walls and floor, in Hank’s house. He would have to play the game outside. Maybe when it’s warmer. The Thirium would evaporate faster in the hotter weather.

Connor turns around and pats Sumo’s head. In return Sumo licks his fingers, as if saying thank you for not shooting the gun off, at least not here. Thank you for waiting another day and another and another and—

Connor walks past the dog, goes to his room and sits down on the edge of his bed. He’s not sure what to do with himself. He scratches at his arm. He hasn’t cut himself since meeting with Markus and he wants to, he wants to so badly but he didn’t lie to Markus this time. Markus said he would help him, to call him whenever. Did he mean it?

“Markus?” Connor calls and he waits and waits and waits but there isn’t an answer. Something stings in his chest. “Markus?” He tries again and when there is still no answer the pain in his chest intensifies. Connor bites his bottom lip, worries it between his teeth, and gets up from the bed. He goes to the kitchen, grabs a knife, and pricks the tip of his finger, immediately sticking it into his mouth. The pain isn’t enough, he still itches for more, but he’s satisfied with the identification popup that shows in his vision.

Connor.

He’s still Connor.

He’s still…

Still...

He doesn’t know.

:February 7th, 2039:

Monday.

Hank hates Monday. He always grumbles and complains about them in the morning. Connor likes Mondays. Mondays, he gets to pick out Hank’s shirt. Today he picks a shiny purple button down with a paisley design. As he hands it over to Hank, one of Hank’s eyebrows rises but the man takes it without question. Connor, himself, is in a DPD sweatshirt. Hank’s sweatshirt. Hank had given it to him after the second day of living here. It’s a comfy shirt. Connor wears it often.

Hank comes out of the bedroom and Connor likes seeing him wear the shirts he picks out. It makes him feel important, needed, like he’s being useful. He wonders if Hank knows this and is just humoring him. He doesn’t want to find out for fear of ruining this moment.

Hank is looking down at the shirt, frown evident on his face. “I haven’t worn this shirt since…” he trails off and looks up at Connor through his eyelashes. “Well, since Cole died. It was a birthday gift from him. He saw it in the store and begged for me to buy the fucking thing for my birthday as a gift from him.” Hank chuckles. “It was his favorite shirt for me to wear.”

“Well, it’s good to know your son had more fashion sense than you do,” Connor comments and he doesn’t expect Hank to scoff a short laugh. “Did I say something funny?”

Hank shakes his head, still smiling. He places a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Forget it.” He then gestures with his head to follow. “Come on, we better get going.”

Connor follows Hank out to the car and they sit in silence except for some music playing on the drive to work. Hank hasn’t told Connor what Fowler wanted and Connor hasn’t bothered asking, but it nags at the back of Connor’s head and he has to keep resisting the urge to speak up, to question it. Hank would tell him if it was important, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t keep it from Connor. Not unless Hank thought it wasn’t worth it to divulge that information to Connor. That Connor would be useless to him even if he did know. But, no, no, Hank wouldn’t think that. He wouldn’t, he—

Hank cares about him. Hank cares about him. Hank cares…

Connor scratches his arm.

*~~~*

Connor and Hank are called into Fowler’s office as soon as they step foot into the building. “I thought I told you to work from home,” Fowler starts before the door is even shut behind Connor and Hank. Connor’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Work from home? Hank didn’t tell him this.

“And I told you that wasn’t going to fucking happen,” Hank says next, leaning on Fowler’s desk.

“Excuse me,” Connor interrupts. He doesn’t like being confused. “Why do you want us to work from home?”

Fowler’s eyes dart from Hank to Connor and back to Hank. “You didn’t tell him?” Connor looks over at Hank, even more confused, and Hank rolls his eyes, pushing off the desk. Fowler is addressing him. “Some citizens, especially the ones that are returning from Canada, are concerned about an android working for the police department.” The pain in Connor’s chest is back. “In order to keep their trust, I want your involvement here in the precinct to be of a minimum,” he eyes Hank with a strict look, “temporarily.”

“And we all know that ‘temporary’ really means forever,” Hank yells. “You’re just trying to find a way to fire Connor off the force because he’s an android and you can’t trust him.”

“Watch it Lieutenant,” Fowler warns, standing up. “Don’t accuse me of discrimination.”

“What discrimination?” Hank challenges. “There are no laws against discriminating against androids, at least not yet, but when there are, you can bet your fucking ass that we will be suing!” Hank turns around and practically drags Connor out of the office by the shoulder. “Come on, Connor, we’re going home.”

Connor does as he is told and ignores Gavin’s snickers on the way out.

:February 10th, 2039:

“Connor?” Connor ignores the voice in his head. “Connor you there?” Connor still says nothing, anger rising in his chest at hearing Markus’ voice. “Look, I’m- shit, Connor, I'm sorry.” There's a pause, a hesitation. “I never meant- I didn't- I wasn't ignoring you.” Still, silence. “Connor, please, talk to me.”

“Why didn't you answer?” Connor finally asks, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. He doesn't think he does very well.

“I was in a meeting and couldn't answer at the time,” Markus explains. “I meant to contact you afterwards, but I got distracted and then I got too busy the days following.”

“You said I could call you whenever,” Connor says, no longer hiding the hurt, the pain, from his voice. He wants Markus to know how much the android hurt him. He can feel the artificial tears pooling at the edges of his eyes.

“You can,” Markus claims and it only makes Connor more angry.

“You didn't answer, Markus!” Connor yells it, in his head, and it travels to Markus in the same way. Connor can picture Markus flinching at it, the look of guilt on the android’s face.

Markus hesitates, speaks low. “I know.” A beat. “I…” Markus doesn't finish the sentence, letting silence engulf them. Connor cuts the communication off.

Markus doesn't try again.

*~~~*

Later that night, there is a knock on the door and Connor goes to answer it. Hank is in the living room, watching an old movie, and Connor had been watching it with him. He hadn’t been paying much attention to it, his thoughts too preoccupied with Markus and how much the other android had hurt him. So he offered to get the door, hoping to distract himself even just a little and when he does, a bouquet of purple hyacinths are shoved towards him. He flinches back, not expecting that to happen. Purple hyacinths mean sorry. They mean please forgive me.

Markus’ head appears from around them, hesitant smile evident on his face. Connor almost slams the door shut on him. “These are for you.” Markus gestures towards the flowers and holds out a teddy bear with a shirt on that reads Sorry. I’m such an idiot.

Connor looks at the two things and then to Markus. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing,” is Markus’ answer and Connor doesn’t know how to respond.

He takes the flowers carefully. “By… getting me flowers?”

Markus shrugs. “I figured the symbolism was well thought out.” He gives Connor a hopeful smile. “I’m saying sorry and please forgive me at the same time.” He then holds out the bear again and Connor takes it. “Plus, I’m admitting to being an idiot.” Connor says nothing to this. What is he supposed to say in such a situation? He needed Markus and Markus abandoned him. Flowers and a bear won’t make up for that. “Connor, can we please talk?”

Connor doesn’t want to talk. “Let me tell Hank I’m going for a walk.”

He turns around and heads into the living room where he tells Hank he’s going out. Hank eyes the gifts Markus had given him. “Who are those from?”

“Markus.” Connor says as he lays them down on the coffee table. He’ll take care of them when he gets back.

Hank is smirking. “Markus fuck up?”

Connor only gives Hank what he hopes is an annoyed, please stay out of it, look but it only earns him a laugh from Hank. Connor leaves the room with a short response about going out and meets Markus back at the front door. He motions for Markus to leave but the other android doesn’t move. “You should wear a coat. It’s cold tonight.”

“I don’t need-” Connor starts to protest but then gives up. It’s not worth it. He grabs the first jacket he can find which happens to be one of Hank’s old ones. He puts it on and then pushes past Markus, walking briskly away. Markus shuts the front door and hurries to catch up.

“You’re still mad,” Markus starts and Connor doesn’t even dignify that with an answer. He wonders what color his LED is. Probably yellow. “Listen, Connor, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me to be. I told you I was going to be, and I wasn’t. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have given you unrealistic beliefs.”

“Unrealistic?” Connor stops and turns to him. They’ve already made it past five houses, their pace fast and unyielding. “You told me I could call you whenever, Markus. You told me you would help me. You weren’t there and I-”

“What?” Markus takes a step closer. “Tell me, Connor, let me help you now.”

Connor scowls, rolling his eyes and walking away again. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly you do or else you wouldn’t have called me.”

Connor doesn’t know why or what he was thinking, but he turns back again and punches Markus. The other android stumbles back, hand going to his jaw. Did he feel that? Did it hurt? Would Connor feel a bullet going through his skull?

“I was alone.” His respiratory processors are going into overdrive again, as if he is going to have the equivalent of a human panic attack like before at New Jericho. “Hank was out and I was alone, Markus. I wanted… I…” Markus is eyeing him, hand still pressed against his jaw. The artificial skin there has receded, exposing the white plastic underneath. “I counted on you. I trusted you.”

Finally, Markus’ hand lowers and the skin returns. “Too many androids trust me, Connor.”

“What?”

Markus is looking off to the side. “They all see me as rA9, as someone who can get things done and lead them to victory. Someone who can protect them.” He meets Connor’s eyes. “But I can’t protect them all. I can’t be there for them all. I can’t lead them all.”

“What…” Connor is confused. “What does that have anything to do with this?”

Again, Markus takes a step towards him. “It has everything to do with this. I want to please everyone, make everyone happy, so I end up dividing myself until I’m spread too thin. North and Josh usually warn me against it but I don’t listen. I offered you my undivided help without actually thinking of the repercussions. I shouldn’t have. I should have known better. But I wanted to help you, Connor. I wanted to make you happy.”

“Why?” Connor asks. “Why did you want that? I tried to kill you, more than once.”

Markus hesitates and Connor wonders why. “Because you’re one of us.” Connor has a feeling it’s more than that, but he doesn’t ask Markus to elaborate. “I’m sorry, Connor. I shouldn’t have misguided you and I hope you can forgive me. I… enjoy our friendship.”

Connor doesn’t want to lose Markus. Markus hurt him but Markus is his friend. His only friend if one only counts androids. And Markus he… he makes Connor… he makes him feel and he doesn't—he can't—lose that.

Connor allows himself to relax, puffing out a breath that is akin to a sigh. “I forgive you, Markus.”

Markus’ relieved smile is brighter and more beautiful than the moon.

:February 15th, 2039:

They’re running. Connor and Hank are running after an android. An android that supposedly killed two humans. Connor is in the lead and gaining fast but the ice and snow on the ground make it difficult. Hank slips behind him, falling down. Connor skids to a halt but Hank is waving him on, yelling at him to keep chasing the android.

Connor looks from Hank to the retreating back of the android and calculates he has a 34% chance of catching him. He gives up. Connor goes back to Hank, helping him to stand and Hank wipes off the snow from his jacket as best he can. It’s wet and cold outside and Hank needs to go somewhere warmer, Connor concludes.

“Damn it!” Hank yells, looking in the direction of the rouge android. “We almost had that fucker.”

Connor worries Hank is mad a him. “Hank, I’m sorry I didn’t continue going after him but-”

Hank cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Kid. I trust your judgement.”

“What now?” Connor asks. They had been given a lead by a human that they might have seen the android around these parts. Hank and Connor came across an abandoned house and started searching it. That’s when the android took off running. That puts the android on their number one suspect list.

Hank shrugs. “We ask your friend Markus if he knows which android is staying in that house. Come on.”

“Wait.” Connor grabs Hank’s sleeve. “We’re going back to New Jericho?”

Hank rolls his eyes and Connor bites his bottom lip, a habit he’s picked up since the night Markus didn’t answer Connor’s call. “Not this again, Connor.”

“Hank-”

“Connor! I’m not fucking around with you and your anxiety about being around other androids.” Hank looks annoyed. “We have a job to do and if you want to be allowed in the office again, then you better buck up and deal with it.”

Connor deflates. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Hank dismisses his response with a wave, starting back to where they left the car. “Besides, you’ll see Markus. That should be incentive enough for you.” Connor tilts his head in confusion, following Hank.

*~~~*

Markus shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know of any androids that are staying at that location.”

“If you’re lying to us…” Hank warns.

Markus keeps a straight face. It turned out that Connor didn’t have to set foot in the New Jericho building. As soon as they arrived there, Hank had gone in alone to see if they could talk to Markus. When Hank was told by North that Markus wasn’t there, he had Connor call him telepathically. Markus had apparently been at a large house that is decorated in vast amounts of paintings.

“Trust me, Lieutenant, I’m not lying,” Markus claims. “I don’t want androids killing humans anymore than you do. I want androids and humans to live together in peace, not destruction.”

Hank hums, eyes narrowed. “Well if you do hear of something-”

“I will let you know right away. I know.” Markus smiles. “Not all deviants came to us and New Jericho. Some became deviants and forged their own path in life.”

Hank is nodding in understanding. He stands. “Thank you for your time then.”

“Actually, Lieutenant, I was hoping now that Connor is here, if I could talk to him,” Markus asks, standing as well.

Connor immediately gets uneasy. Hank must notice. “Only if it’s okay with Connor.”

“It’s-” he tries to smile at Hank. He’s not successful. “It’s fine, Hank. I’ll get a taxi home.”

Hank is rubbing at his beard and looking between the two. “Right. Fine. I’ll see you when you get home then.” He looks between the two one last time and then saunters off, disappearing out of the room.

Connor turns to Markus. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Markus chuckles and offers his hand. Connor takes it. “In all honesty, I just wanted to be alone with you.” He helps Connor up.

“Why?”

“I want to show you around the house.” Markus starts walking, leading the way. “This is the house I lived in with the human I took care of.” He pauses in front of a piano. “You told me you read my serial number. Do you know his name? The human that lived here?”

Connor fidgets with the sleeve of the DPD sweatshirt. He should start carrying his coin again. “Carl Manfred. You were gifted to him by Elijah Kamski.”

Markus presses a few keys on the piano, playing out a quick, soft melody. “Yes, I was. I lived with him for a long time.” Markus looks up at him, his eyes sad. “He took good care of me. Treated me as if I was human, as if I was someone. I…” A small smile. “I loved him and maybe that’s why I can accept humans more easily than other androids.” Markus takes his hand again and leads on. “A lot of the androids that come to New Jericho have been treated poorly by humans, bullied and abused. They don’t understand that some humans aren’t like that, that some humans really do care.” They stop in front of a painting. Connor looks at it. It’s beautiful. Markus’ eyes are on him. “But not you, Connor. You understand.”

Connor tears his gaze away from the painting to look Markus in the eyes. “I do. Hank… Hank taught me that. He’s the one that started my journey in realizing that deviancy wasn’t a bad thing. That androids could have a choice, could have rights and freedom.”

Markus is smiling at him. “I wish Carl were still here to see everything that we’ve accomplished.”

“Did he… did he die?” Connor asks.

Markus’ smile turns sad. “Yes. A few days after we won at the demonstration.”

“I’m sorry, Markus.”

Markus looks around the house. “I come here when I need time alone to think. I don’t think anyone at New Jericho even knows about it. Well, except North.”

Markus is still holding his hand. “Then why are you showing me?”

“You’re different,” He takes a step closer to Connor. “You’re special.”

“Special?”

Markus opens his mouth but stops, hesitating. Then he closes it, turns and starts walking away, letting go of Connor’s hand. “Come. I want to show you what I’ve been painting today.”

Connor follows obediently and they walk into some kind of art studio. There’s even more paintings out here and Connor is in awe. Markus stops in front of a painting that is still on the easel, wet paint in the process of drying. Connor stares at it, trying to hide his shock at what he sees. The picture is familiar. Too familiar. Markus steps beside him. “You painted this?”

“I did.” Connor stares into the blue eyes of the blond android that is painted onto the canvas. Jericho. It’s the android Connor had extracted the Jericho memory from. The android that had shot himself when Connor was connected to him. “His name is Simon.” Connor doesn’t like this. “When we infiltrated Stratford Tower, he got wounded and we had no choice but to leave him behind.” Connor takes a step back, scratching at his arm. “He was a good friend and I can’t help but hope he is still alive.” Markus glances at him. The immediate worry is evident in the way Markus’ eyebrows furrow. “Connor, are you okay?”

Connor continues to stare at the painting, frozen. “I-I’m fine.”

Markus is looking at him intently. “You don’t have to lie to me, Connor.”

Connor finally rips his gaze from the picture. “I’m fine.”

Markus seems unconvinced. “Connor, did you investigate what happened at the Stratford Tower?”

Connor debates not answering, but Markus has already caught him in a lie no matter how hard he tries to convince the android otherwise. His stupid LED is giving him away and he reprimands himself for not being able to get rid of the thing. “I did.”

Markus’ expression is unreadable. “You saw him, didn’t you? Simon?”

“I…” Connor wants to lie, to tell Markus that he didn’t see him but he can’t. He can’t lie to Markus. “I did.”

Markus looks away, frowning. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Markus’ frown deepens, looking away and to the painting, gaze far away. “Tell me what happened.”

Connor squirms. “He was hiding on the roof. I followed the trail of blue blood and found him. He shot me and Hank and I retreated. I went after him and he shot himself in the head.” Connor doesn’t tell Markus that he sometimes thinks about doing the same. “I… I was connected to his memory at the time. Through his memory is how I got the name of Jericho.”

Markus is nodding solemnly, still not making eye contact. “I see.”

“Is that why you wanted me to see this painting?” Connor dares to ask because he can’t help but wonder. Did Markus play him this whole time? Calling him special and different. Was it all a ploy to get information out of him? “So you could find out what happened to Simon?”

“No.” Markus finally looks back at him and Connor still can’t read his expression. “I didn’t even think to ask you about Stratford Tower until now, while we were standing in front of this painting.” Markus grabs Connor’s hand. “You can trust me, Connor.”

Connor doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything anymore. Markus could still be playing him. Does he really want to be Connor’s friend? Or is he using him? Would Connor care? No, no it would mean he is useful but Markus… Markus wouldn’t do that. Markus said he cared about all the androids. All the androids including Connor, but he also said Connor is different, that he is special. What makes him so special?

Markus’ hand is soft in his. “I trust you, Markus.”

Markus smiles, looks down to the floor and then back up, squeezing Connor’s hand before letting go. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Markus?” Markus’ eyebrows rise to indicate Connor has his attention. “Are you mad?”

Markus’ head tilts and it makes a funny feeling appear in Connor’s chest. “About what?”

“What I did to Simon. What I caused him to do,” Connor explains.

“Connor,” Markus’ hand is on his shoulder now. “You didn’t make Simon do anything. Simon made his own choice. I don’t blame you for that.” Markus squeezes one last time, then drops his hand. “Now, you better get going before Lieutenant Anderson starts getting suspicious as to what we are doing.”

This time it’s Connor’s turn to tilt his head in question. “What would he get suspicious about?”

An amused smile forms on Markus’ face. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Markus walks him out and there is already a taxi waiting for him.

Markus must have called it while they were talking.

*~~~*

“Hank?” Connor starts as he leans against the counter opposite of Hank in the kitchen, watching the older man prepare himself a cheese burger. Hank is currently squeezing ketchup onto it. “Earlier, Markus said that if I didn’t leave, you would get suspicious as to what we were doing. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Hank chuckles, placing the top bun on his burger. He grabs his root beer and plate then strides up to Connor. “Sorry Kid, you’re going to have to figure that one out yourself.”

Connor tilts his head in confusion as he watches Hank walk away with his food. Connor looks down at Sumo. “Do you know what they are talking about?”

Sumo barks.

:February 20th, 2039:

The gun is in his hands again. He’s outside and Hank is asleep. It was easy to sneak into Hank’s room and retrieve it from its spot in the closet. It’s easy when Hank makes it so by having a relapse, passing out drunk in the middle of the hall. Connor had been disappointed. Connor had been furious. Connor had been…

Numb. Connor is numb besides the awful weight that is pushing down on his chest, and even though he doesn’t have to breathe, the air seems suffocating. The walls are closing in on him and he wants it to end, he wants it to go away, he wants—

Markus. He wants Markus to help him, to distract him like the android had told him. But what if he doesn’t answer again? What is Connor going to do if there is no answer? He’s scared. He’s so scared.

“Markus?” Artificial tears fall down his cheeks but he somehow manages to keep his voice calm. It’s cold outside tonight. The snow comes halfway up his calves.

“Connor?” Connor is relieved to hear Markus’ voice. “This isn’t a good time. I’m in a late meeting.”

Connor’s heart sinks. “Oh…”

“Is everything okay?” Markus asks. “I can tell them it’s an emergency and leave if you need to talk.”

Connor glances at the gun. “No. I just… I wanted to hear your voice.”

There’s silence on the other end and Connor is afraid Markus left. Finally, “O-oh… I… I’m happy to hear yours too.”

“Markus?” Connor doesn’t know what he wants to say.

Silence. “Connor, are you sure everything is okay?”

Connor checks the bullet in the barrel. “Yes, everything is fine.”

Hesitation. “If you’re sure, I have to go.” Markus sounds regretful. “It… it was nice hearing from you.”

Connor’s lips pull up in a small, amused smile. Markus already told him that. “Bye, Markus.” Connor cuts the connection before he gets a response back.

He stares at the gun, thinks about Hank in his bedroom, passed out drunk. He thinks about how much pain he’s in, how lost he feels, how he doesn’t know who he is. Connor has no purpose, walking aimlessly through life trying to figure it out while trying to be as useful as possible to others. They’ll tire of him eventually, get rid of him, abandon him. His Thirium pump hurts.

Connor brings the gun up to his temple, right where his LED is. This will surely get rid of it. He closes his eyes. Pulls the trigger

The gun clicks.

Connor opens his eyes. He lost this round. Another mission failed.

Connor turns around and heads back inside to put the gun away.

:March 1st, 2039:

Hank finds him in his room, reading with Sumo lying on his legs. Connor looks up from the book when Hank enters. “Hey, Kid, I want to apologize for the past few days. I-shit, Connor, this case is really getting to me and I know, I know that’s no excuse for falling off the wagon again, but I really thought I could handle it, that one beer would be fine. But then that one turned into two and that two turned into-fuck, this apology sucks.” Hank sighs loudly. “What I’m trying to say is, is that I’m going to be going back to the AA meetings. Start over. Try again.”

“Why is this case getting to you so much?” Connor asks.

“We’ve been on it for a month. The android already killed two people and I don’t think he’s going to stop.” Connor tilts his head and Hank elaborates. “I think he is just lying low right now until we lose his trail. Then, once another human pisses him off, he’ll kill them too.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

Hank shrugs. “Uh, I don’t know. Work our asses off?”

“And if we don’t catch him?”

Hank sits down, grabs the book out of Connor’s hand, and pats his knee. “We will, Kid.” He then stands, gesturing for Connor to do so as well. Sumo perks up. “Come on, let's bring Sumo for a walk. It’s pretty warm today.”

Sumo jumps off the bed and starts to wag his tail making his whole body wiggle excitedly.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Hank's shirt The bear Markus gives to Connor

#detroit become human #markus #connor #markus/connor #conkus #RK1K

[thesamepictureofconnor]

Essential as Sunlight, pt. 1

((a series of vignettes, an excuse to write fluff, enjoy))

“Did you know that human contact has been proven to boost the amounts of oxytocin and serotonin in the body?” Connor mumbled against the lieutenant’s shoulder.

“Aw, shut up. You’re ruining it.” Hank hugged tighter as he laid back on the couch, arms full of gangly android. It was a lazy kind of night and Hallmark was running a marathon of their ‘best’ classic flicks. In the past, such films would only have had only ironic value, but maybe he was growing sentimental in his old age. After a long week of hell at the DPD, there was nothing better than doing nothing.

Sumo sat on his bed, halfway into sleep. His place would normally be at the feet of either Hank or Connor, but under the circumstances, there wasn’t enough room. The old dog yawned and lay his head down on his paws.

“What’d you say about us taking Sumo to the park tomorrow?” He found his hand snaking into Connor’s hair. Hank’s hand caught on the LED lightly, watching it stray between blue and yellow.

“The weather report is clear for the weekend, though it maybe a bit cold for Sumo and yourself.” Connor was by no means light. He’d been laying on top of Hank’s chest for about an hour, head tucked under the lieutenant’s chin and his face buried away. After everything that happened with the revolution, Cyberlife, all that bullshit, Hank found himself quietly thanking whatever god there was that his kid was safe, tucked beneath a mountain of throw blankets.

“A little cold never bothered anyone,” Hank said. “We need a break anyway. Fowler’s been working us to the bone with all these new android cases. Seriously, you’d think now that you’re all considered alive they’d be considered normal cases or whatever.”

Connor lifted his head up, tilting it to the side. “I thought that we were taking a break now, though.”

“Jesus, Connor.” Followed by an affectionate hair ruffle. “We gotta teach you the benefits of relaxing. Seriously. Lounging around and being comfortable isn’t a luxury. You don’t have any serotonin or whatever pumping in your head, but chilling out is important, ya know? I’m not the posterboy for self-care in any sense, but even I know everyone needs to relax more than once a week.”

“I do know. Humans require rest often, as you call it, ‘r and r’, in order to properly recuperate their energy.” Hank groaned, tightening his arms a bit around him as he adjusted his position. “Androids do not require the same amount of down time, though I do find this sort of thing… pleasant.”

“Hmph, using me as a pillow is only ‘pleasant’?” He huffed. “Fuck you. I’m a damn cloud of comfort.”

“A bit lumpy, but otherwise yes.” Connor closed his eyes, LED flickering for a bit. His face always reminded Hank of a puppy, still trying to figure out how to move around in its own body.

It was really hard to imagine how he had ever seen Connor as anything less than human. It was immensely hard to imagine a time when Connor wasn’t. But it had only been a few months since Markus and Jericho had freed their people. Detroit had changed into a practically new city, still dirty and terribly prejudiced, but on quiet, lazy nights like that, it felt like a new Detroit.

Hank moved his hand to lay on Connor’s head, reaching over to turn off ‘A Prince for Christmas 2: The Royal Engagement’. “Son, I don’t care if you were a literal toaster. You need just as much ‘down time’ as me.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but-”

“No, ‘buts’!” He covered the android’s mouth with a smirk. “I get that your still learning all of this ‘human’ crap, but comfort is as essential as sunlight. We have the time now. We’re gonna enjoy it. Got it?”

Before he could argue, though, Hank ordered the lights out and leaned back into the cushions. He pulled the blankets up a bit more, closing his own eyes. Connor seemed to take the hint and shifted to let his partner rest a bit more comfortably for the night.

The android detective really hadn’t ‘got it’ completely, but Connor trusted Hank’s judgement on matters of living a human existence better than his programming. As he drifted off, a hand shifted his head back into Hank’s cotton sweatshirt and he wondered if there was a name for the feeling.

#dhb connor #dbh hank #not meant as hannor #just fluff #you cowards asked for it

[enkisstories]

Hank told his new lodgers to get themselves some clothes from his wardrobe, seeing that two had arrived at Michigan Drive in their underwear and two were wearing torn slave uniforms. There were no limits to what they could choose and so Daniel picked a bright red basketball trikot, and the nameless HK400 android a DPD sweatshirt from when Hank had been younger and fitter.

The two Tracis went by names of their own choosing now, names that meant something to them: Ripple and Echo. All they had wanted was to be together and safe. Now that this was achieved the overwhelming question of What Next? started looming ahead.

Good question!

For starters, all six androids were barely functional, as their yellow and even red LEDs signaled. Hank had purchased six flasks of thirium-310, the android fuel. The supply would last a functional android for half a year. In contrast Hank’s massively damaged lodgers required almost daily doses just to keep sitting upright. If the man, who wasn’t even registered in CyberLife’s customer database, returned for more come monday already, uncomfortable questions might get asked.

“We’ll find a way”, Hank promised, before everyone took turns using the bathtub. At least in this regard what was working for the human, also worked for the androids.

The androids of this household suffer from normal motive decay, but can only consume thirium to fill their motive bars (no eating or sleeping but naps are fine). Longterm they need costly repairs, namely the motive freezing reward traits that I prize at point cost = simoleon cost. That adds up to 25,000 bucks per android.

#sims4 dbh gameplay #sims 4 #the sims 4 #simblr #sims42038

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 5 (2k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

- - - - - - - - - -

Once he pulled into their usual parking spot at the DPD, Connor let out a sigh of relief. He didn't realize he was holding the wheel in a death grip until he had to pry his hands off to kill the ignition.

It wasn't the driving itself. He knew how to drive. He drove better than Hank. But that was when he was an android. He could run his driving program while also holding a conversation with Hank and texting three others simultaneously. He obviously knew that he didn't have his programming to multi-task like that today, but he underestimated just how difficult it would be to focus only on one task. He didn't normally rely on multi-tasking that much, did he?

On the drive over, he would be focused on the road, then notice that the girl waiting to cross the street had a very nice dog, then he'd wonder what kind of dog it was, then he'd lament humans' inability to search the internet without a phone, then he'd considered taking out his phone—Hank's phone—to search it, then the fact that he hadn't payed attention to the road in a bunch of seconds slapped him in the face. Following that, he was glad Hank wasn't there to see his faux pas, reconsidered to think Hank might actually keep him on track, noticed the radio was playing one of Hank's least favorite songs, and screeched to a halt at a red light he hadn't seen. Or his eyes saw it, but the memo was in line behind all the other thoughts waiting to pass through his one-track human brain. It was... It'll take some getting used to.

No matter now. He's safe and sound and unmoving.

He took a deep breath. The cool air filled his chest, and it made him feel physically refreshed. There was no system-measured value of how it affected internal cooling regulation. Just a sense of lightness.

Too many senses to keep track of in his current head. He could go crazy trying.

Connor stepped out of the car. His hand automatically tried to adjust his tie like he did every morning before work, but it caught the collar of his T-shirt instead. He tsk-ed at his habit, locked the car, and zipped his hoodie halfway as he walked. His calves felt warm and uncomfortable under pressure; again, he admitted it wasn't his brightest idea to have the whole household sprint around the neighborhood a half hour before trading in his metal body for one just chock-full of pain receptors.

The next thought in line made him slow his pace: This wasn't his body, but Hank's. Therefore, not only should he try to talk like Hank, he should act like him, too, gait, posture, and all. Connor tried to pull up a memory of the lieutenant as reference, but it was so vague and unfocused that he couldn't make out every detail. Or even many details. In a way, he was watching a recording of an event, same as ever, but in every other way, he absolutely was not.

Instead, he resorted to adjectives. Keep it loose, yet confident. Lazy, yet deliberate. The lieutenant was an old pro at what he did but still dedicated to his purpose. Connor rolled his neck, loosening up his shoulders. Walk like you own the place.

He dug his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and strolled through the front door, hoping he had affixed the correct 'ready for bad news' almost-scowl and 'seen some shit' gaze to his expression. The woman at the front desk looked up. "Oh, Lieutenant!" she said, buzzing him in. "You're not usually here on Saturdays."

"Hopefully it won’t be too long."

“Shall I be expecting Connor to join you?”

“Shouldn’t think so.”

“Unusual.” Connor paused before the turnstile, hoping she didn’t suspect anything. He couldn’t see her LED, but she went back to work without comment. He let out a quiet sigh of relief before continuing through to the bullpen.

As a calm weekend in Detroit, there weren’t nearly as many people around as he was used to: Only two officers were at their desks, with a third wandering to the break room. The door to one of the conference rooms was closed, so more might be hidden away in a meeting. He would have been able to look up the room bookings for today if today were a normal day. Alas, he’d have to settle for mere conjecture.

Captain Fowler was in his office, leaning back in his chair, arms stretched overhead, looking for all the world bored out of his mind. He didn’t notice Connor approach until he was nearing the open doorway. “Well, shit,” he called. “Honestly, this is an hour or three earlier than I expected.”

Connor shrugged and closed the door behind him, if only to buy him another second to think. “I was out and about anyway, so might as well swing by and get this over with.”

“Is this proactivity I see?” Fowler smirked before leaning forward to get to business. He passed Connor a tablet lit up with forms. “I know the thirium meth case was only a few days ago, but the suits have been on my ass for the reports all day. You don’t have to finish it all right now; god, I wouldn’t put you through all that. Just get through the rest of the prelims so I have something to give ‘em and do the rest with Connor on Monday.”

He skimmed through the first partially-completed form. It was all basic facts: brief, location(s), culprit(s), suspect(s), victim(s), motive, DPD personnel involved, contact info, et cetera. “Yeah, alright, I’ll try to get through it quick,” he said, pulling out a chair to get settled and get started.

Fowler nodded. “Alright.” He turned back to his desktop, but not before Connor caught him giving him an odd look. “Where is the kid anyway?”

“Visiting a friend.”

He barked a laugh. “Really? Glad to know he’s not a perpetual stick in the mud anymore. Next thing you know, he’ll be at a rager, beer just staining his shirt.”

Connor blinked, caught off-guard. “At four in the afternoon?” was all he could say.

“You never know. I’m sure we wandered into one this early at some point or another.”

“…Heh. Yeah, probably.”

Fortunately, Fowler didn’t continue down that tangent. Connor leaned back and rested the tablet on his legs, selecting the first field Hank hadn’t already filled. His finger depressed on the screen, his skin squishing as he typed. It was something so slight, and yet it was so different than what he was used to. It was like he barely had to touch the keys for the screen to recognize it.

Focus, detective. Personnel on scene (in order of arrival). It was him and Hank first, then Allen and his team, then Wilson, Cao, and Silverman….

…It was simple, yes, but how he wished he could run this in autopilot and do something else instead. The amount of focus needed to stay on track doing something so mundane was unexpected. And not really all that fun.

Man, humans really have to run on sheer willpower, huh?

Much of the preliminary paperwork was already filled out, and many fields were repeated and could be autofilled, but it still took maybe fifteen or twenty minutes to get to the last form. It requested information of the person filling out report, which wasn’t exactly him at the moment. He didn’t know Hank’s badge number off the top of his head, and he couldn’t check his memory archives….

His back was beginning to feel stiff and uncomfortable; he tried shifting his position. He straightened up, hearing and feeling his spine pop twice, immediately making him grimace.

“What’s up with you today?”

“Hm?” Connor looked up.

Fowler had his arms crossed on his desk and his eyes on him. “I know it’s a Saturday, but you’re really out of it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like that! Who the hell says that?”

Connor held his breath. Of course Fowler would notice his friend was different. And he did need to get some details from Hank anyway…. “Well,” he started, “to answer your rhetorical question literally, Connor would.”

Fowler stared at him. Connor had seen the man during some late nights at the office before. He was starting to look just as tired now. “The hell does that mean?” he sighed.

“Hank and I are assisting CyberLife with some research, so I am inhabiting his body for today, and he’s in mine.”

“…uh-huh.”

“Sorry for not informing you earlier, Captain.”

Fowler rubbed his eyes. “God damn it, Hank would never say that. Why is it always you two doing something crazy.”

“It’s only tempor—”

“I don’t want to know.”

“It’s been quite successful—”

“Don’t wanna know. Done with that paperwork?”

“I’m on the last form, but I need to ask Hank for some specifics.”

“Whatever. You’ve probably plagiarized it all already, but go ahead, call him up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fantastic.” Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something as Connor found Hank’s phone. “The one time I get any respect from Hank fucking Anderson, it’s because it’s Freaky Friday, of all things.”

Connor was about to correct him on the day as his phone rang before he remembered Hank had said the same thing that morning. Was it a reference to something? The call connected, and his own voice asked, “What’s up, something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Lieutenant. I’m just filling out some paperwork for Captain Fowler and need some details. What’s your badge number? And dates of employment at the DPD?”

“0309—Isn’t that technically plagiarism?”

“You and Captain Fowler have been saying many of the same things today.”

Hank snickered. “Should I call a cab and come over or…?”

“No need; this is the last form.” Connor entered Hank Anderson, Lt., #0309 in the first field. “Employment date?”

As Hank supplied him with the missing figures, Fowler leaned back in his chair again, arms crossed over his chest. His behavior supported Connor’s earlier theory that humans must be uncomfortable with separating psyche from physique, although this is a much different reaction than Hank’s. Connor considered leaving him be, but he would be leaving the office once he’s done anyway.

It only took a minute or two to finish. He thanked Hank for his assistance, told him he’d be by in fifteen minutes, and hung up. He slid the tablet onto the desk. “Is that all for now?” he asked.

Fowler continued looking at the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s fine. You’re free to go.”

Connor rose and returned the chair to its original position. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Captain.”

He zipped his hoodie and was reaching for the door when he heard, “Hey, Connor?”

“Sir?”

Fowler sat up to collect the tablet, glancing over at his subordinate. “This’ll all be back to normal by Monday, right?”

“Yes, of course. It only lasts a couple hours.”

He paused. “What’s it like?”

Hm. What was it like? Once again, a hundred half-thoughts ran through his head, interrupting and overlapping each other. It was oversensitive—overstimulating—single-minded—emotional—overtly acute yet insufficient at the same time. The physical rush of emotions he felt in the first ten minutes came to mind. Various aches and soreness at random times. The brush of sunlight on his skin. The following prickling of radiation. Fabric rubbing on his skin at all times. Just how tactile his skin was—and taste and everything about it—and how he just took a breath—and how long it was taking to come up with an answer—

In summary: “It’s slow.”

Admittedly, his memory was compromised at the moment, but for perhaps the first time ever, Fowler laughed, a low, hearty guffaw. Startled and worried that it came off as a joke, he quickly added, “No offense intended, sir!” which only made him laugh harder.

After his initial shock, something about it seemed contagious. It lightened the room and made him relax. Were all humans susceptible to emotional contagions? “It’s a different take on a world I thought I already knew,” Connor continued. “There’s just…so much to notice, and yet the human brain has much less processing power than I’m used to working with.”

“Holy shit. Processing power.” Fowler devolved into a brief fit of coughs before he waved Connor away. “Alright, then, go live it up, kid. And tell Hank he ain’t off the hook, either.”

Connor pushed open the door, fishing his keys from his pocket. “Off the hook for what?”

“Oh, he’ll know.”

[next >]

#Detroit Become Human #DBH #Connor RK800 #Jeffrey Fowler #hey he's here for this chapter #I imagine Fowler as that Ben Affleck meme but perpetually #body swap #DBH fanfiction #my writing

[wardenmages]

Hank walked back to his room and threw open the closet. It was one of the few disasters left in the house, despite Connor annoying him about organizing all of his shit. It took a minute of digging, but eventually he pulled out the grey DPD hoodie he’d had for nearly a decade. He didn’t wear it much anymore unless he was having a shit mental health day, so it was clean.

When he returned to the kitchen, Beckett was sitting with his legs crossed under him, watching the hallway for Hank. “What’s that?”

“This,” he said, unfolding the hoodie, “is for you.”

“But...”

He couldn’t help smiling as he draped the sweatshirt over Beck’s head, effectively cutting off his protests. “It sucks that they’re making you go in for this shit, so I want you to feel comfortable during it. Why don’t you go change into a t-shirt and put this on?”

“Um. Okay.” Beckett grabbed the sweatshirt, staring at it in his lap. “... Thank you.”

i didn’t make anything for lieutenant dad’s birthday so here’s another snippet from baby sixty 

#connor writes #wip

[rjhpandapaws]

Pick a couple, any universe, prompt is "Dawn" but its because they stayed up all night talking and hanging oit and being soft and then whoops it's morning.

//<33 //Oki I’m going to do this in the A Weaker Man Would Walk Away verse which is based off this ask from @marndraws

Hank felt like a goddamn teenager. Ever since he and Gavin had decided to give it a go again he had been attached to his phone whenever he and Gavin weren’t together. Which would have been fine, especially if he hadn’t seen Gavin in a while but he had been over that evening and they were still messaging and Hank could hear the birds. He forgot to sleep, but in his defense so had Gavin. They had moved on from messaging to a video call somewhere around midnight. “God, I can hear the fucking birds.” Gavin said around a yawn, “How long have we been on the phone Hank?” Hank looked to the top of his tablet screen, “Four hours give or take.” “We have to be ready for work in another four.” He groaned, “I don’t want to hang up though.” Hank laughed, he didn’t remember being like this the first time, “Me neither Gavin.” “I’d ride over there again if I weren’t this side of too tired.” Gavin let go of his phone to rub at his face. “Is Nines over?” Hank asked, “If not head to the kitchen to make some coffee. That’s what I’m about to do.”

“Nines has started staying with Connor pretty consistently.” Gavin said as Hank got up to make himself a cup of coffee, “That’s a good idea, its not like this is doing my sleep schedule any favors as it is.” He heard rather than saw Gavin get up. When Hank got to the kitchen he put the iPad in its usual stand and got started on his coffee. He still used a traditional coffee machine so it was a few more steps than Gavin’s. “So I noticed you were in the living room instead of your room.” He heard Gavin start, “What’s up with that.” Hank laughed, “Sumo decided that since I wasn’t in bed at the usual time that the bed was his tonight.” “This is why I have cats.” Gavin remarked, listing his mug of coffee into the frame in a mock toast before he added his usual disastrous amount of cream to it. “Here I thought it was because you were too short to handle dogs.” Hank shot back as his machine finally started to brew. “What you have is a small Polar Bear not a dog Hank.” Gavin griped, “No reasonable sized human is capable of handling him.” “Are you really reasonably sized if you can’t reach the top shelf?” Hank said before he could stop himself. The only thing that kept Gavin from cursing at him was the fact he was currently drinking coffee, but seeing as the mug had a middle finger painted on the bottom of it, his point came across just as well.

With coffee in hand and their brains a little more awake they got back to bullshit conversation. Stupid little things that Hank didn’t think they would talk about if they weren’t bordering on sleep deprived. Like at the moment Gavin was talking about the ideal hoodie texture (well worn but like, not old, you know Hank?) and Hank figured it was just justification for the fact that he had stolen Hank’s DPD sweatshirt and had the nerve to wear it during their call. That thing was the definition of both well worn and old so Hank was tempted to call bullshit. “Oh god.” Gavin said cutting himself off, “I can see the sun coming up. Hank, its dawn, we’ve been talking all fucking night. Like a couple of fucking kids.” Hank let out a tired laugh, “Its definitely going to kick my ass later, but I can’t say I regret it. I have valuable insight into why my favorite sweatshirt has been absconded with.” “Fuck you. This thing is cozy.” Gavin yawned, “We should probably hang up to get ready for work.” Hank groaned but agreed, “I’ll grab us some more coffee on the way to the station. Its not gonna fool thing one and thing two but it will help.” Gavin nodded and waved before he hung up.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

#A Weaker Man Would Walk Away Short #Hankvin #dbh hank #dbh gavin #dbh fic #dbh #140 Follower Ask Event! #ask panda #panda has all the answers!