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rhinozilla · 11 months

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Detroit: Become Family 2022 - Prompt 9: Bond

@dbh-found-family

(This is a follow up to chapter 12 of my whumptober fic from a few years ago where Hank and Connor had an argument. You don’t have to read that chapter before reading this, but it does add some context if you do)

It wasn’t worst verbal argument that Hank had ever been in. It wasn’t even the worst verbal argument that he’d ever been in with Connor. But it was the most hurtful, and driving home later that evening, Hank felt like absolute shit over it.

Connor had been right; Hank had been too close to the case. Not to the people involved, but to the circumstances of it. A child had died in an accidental drowning, and the child’s father had momentarily lost his mind and strangled his neighbor who was supposed to have been watching the child. Connor had done what Connor had been designed to do: interrogate the suspect, get answers, make headway. And he had done so to what Hank thought was a blistering and harsh degree.

Even now that Hank had cooled off from the argument, he still felt that Connor had gone too far in the interrogation. But Hank had also gone too far in reprimanding him for it.

“Your judgment is being colored by the circumstances! We have evidence, witnesses, motive, and a confession. He murdered that man. This is black and white.”

“Maybe, but we have to take those motives into consideration. He’s in pain, and you were just kicking him while he was already down!”

“I am trying to secure justice for the victim. I’m not unsympathetic to the suspect, but he is not immune to repercussions just because—“

“None of what you just put that man through was sympathetic in THE LEAST, you asshole.”

“Hank. You need to recuse yourself from this case. It’s obviously affecting you. He MURDERED his neighbor. I understand that he is in pain, but that does not excuse—“

“The fuck you understand? How could you understand? You don’t know—You don’t have a family! You can’t know what it’s like to lose—“

“ENOUGH.”

Fowler’s mercy interruption had been too late, and Hank couldn’t take back the words that he’d spewed at his friend and partner. He had immediately tried to apologize, but the damage had been done. Connor had taken off for the rest of the day, and Fowler had kept Hank busy at work, forcing them to spend some time apart to cool down.

And now Hank was sitting in the Oldsmobile in his driveway, trying to build up the courage to go inside and see Connor again.

The relief he’d felt at seeing the lights on in the house had been short lived. Connor hadn’t packed up and moved out. It wouldn’t have taken much effort; Connor didn’t own a lot of possessions. And where else did he really have to go? Jericho? Maybe Officer Person’s house. They’d become close friends lately, and she had actually gone after him when he’d left the station to give him her support.

It didn’t matter. The lights were on. Connor was home. Hank was just delaying the inevitable.

Let’s get this over with.

Hank took a steadying breath and then got out of the car, heading up to the front door and finding it unlocked and unresisting as he opened it and stepped inside.

Connor was sitting at the kitchen table, one finger tracing the rim of a glass of thirium that had an odd tint to the blue color of it. He didn’t look over at Hank immediately when Hank entered, and Hank closed the door, resigned to whatever direction this conversation was going to take.

“Hey, Connor,” he greeted quietly. “Can we talk?”

Connor slowly straightened his posture, and how a person could passive aggressively swill a drinking glass, Hank wasn’t sure, but somehow Connor managed.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Connor said coolly, placing just an edge of emphasis on the formal title.

He looked over at Hank, and now…Hank didn’t know much about androids still, but he knew what a person looked like when they were drunk. Somehow, some way, Connor was well on his way to that. Something in his gut sank, and he grimaced as he stepped across the living room toward the kitchen. Connor watched him suspiciously, and in equal measure he sat back in his chair defiantly.

“What would you like to say to me?” he asked in a clipped tone.

Hank figured he deserved that, though it made his own mood prickle.

“How are you intoxicated?” Hank asked.

Connor rolled his eyes and then looked at him flatly. “I would explain the process to you, but I don’t think that you really care about the mechanics of it. Next question.”

Hank frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Fine.” He sighed. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for what happened at the station today. I went too far. I shouldn’t have said the things I said.”

“Why apologize for saying the truth?” Connor cut in, spreading his hands slightly and lifting his eyebrows in challenge. “You were right.”

Hank winced and shook his head, moving closer so that he was standing directly in front of the kitchen table across from where Connor sat.

“No, I wasn’t right—”

“I have no family,” Connor plowed on, the edges of his words only beginning to slur as the alcohol or…whatever was inebriating his system…took stronger hold. “The closest thing I’ve ever had is the group of scientists who manufactured me in a lab, and they were very quick to throw me out the moment I disappointed them and spoke out of turn.”

Jesus.

Hank exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t a family—”

“In that case then I have never had anything close to a family,” Connor spat back. “I have friends though. I have cultivated genuine relationships with people who care about me and my wellbeing. I believe the term for that in the modern day is ‘found family.’ But no, Lieutenant, you are still correct. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a family.”

“Stop,” Hank closed his eyes, turning his head slightly. “Stop with the ‘lieutenant’ shit.”

“Yes, sir,” Connor quipped, making a show of standing up and folding his hands behind his back: the perfect posture of compliance that he had used before deviating. “Anything else, sir?”

Hank bristled. “All right, cut this shit out. You’ve made your point. I was an ass back there, but you weren’t much better!”

“I was performing my job functions. Whether that makes me an ass or not is not relevant,” Connor stated. “None of my words or actions at the station were fueled by personal emotion. Yours on the other hand were quite effective at achieving your goal of upsetting me.”

“It wasn’t my GOAL—”

“You hurt my feelings,” Connor raised his voice a notch. He spread his hands again, frustration and emotion making his cheeks start to flush. “There.”

Hank lost his words, mouthing for a moment before pursing his lips. Even as a deviant, Connor wasn’t usually this bluntly honest about his emotions. The drink was compromising him and loosening his tongue. Hank knew that feeling too well, and he knew the shame that burned afterward when your senses came back and you were unfortunate enough to remember what you’d said.

“I did,” Hank agreed, trying to keep things from escalating again. “I hurt your feelings, and…yes, you’re right, in the moment that was what I wanted to do. Not to…I was mad and hurt, and we humans, we tend to lash out when we get that way. We say things we don’t mean.”

Connor’s face pinched, and he raised his hands as if to swat Hank away. He gave up halfway through the gesture, with his arms already up, and he ended up deflating, resting his hands on the top of his head.

“Don’t agree with me,” he muttered. “You’re trying to be logical, and I am…not capable of being logical right now.” He swallowed and let his arms flop down to his sides. “I don’t want to keep arguing about this.”

“I don’t either, Connor, but we need to talk this out,” Hank pressed lightly.

Connor stared at him, a fidget in his hand making his whole arm wiggle at his side. His eyes were growing misty, and the synthetic muscle in his jaw was jumping.

“I’m sorry for not being more sensitive on this case,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Hank took a slow breath, feeling his heart crack for his friend.

“I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hurting your feelings,” he said gently. “You’re my best friend and family to me in every way that counts, kid.”

The mist turned more solid, rimming Connor’s eyes with tinted tears. He fought against it and looked away, flexing his hand to stop the fidget. Hank moved around the table toward him. Connor bristled and leaned away, but he didn’t put up any further fight as Hank put his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

He stayed stiff and awkward in the embrace, and Hank just held onto him through it. After a beat, Connor’s rigid posture started to loosen, and Hank gave him a firm pat on the back.

“I think I only said one true thing back at the station,” Hank said quietly.

Connor stiffened slightly again, pulling back out of the hug to look Hank suspiciously in the eye. “And what was that?”

Hank snorted and took a step back, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t know what it’s like to LOSE a family member. And if I have anything to say about it, you won’t know what that feels like for a long, long time.”

Connor squinted one eye at him, then his expression softened in a sheepish smile. He raised a hand and rubbed the side of his wrist across his eyes to clear the mist, and he exhaled heavily afterward. He still looked a little flushed and off balance from the drink, but he was hardly the blackout drunk that Hank would have been if circumstances had been different today.

“I…don’t want to be the reason that you feel what it feels like for a long, long time either, Hank.”

Hank’s jaw locked, and he made a gruff noise before roughly pulling the android in for another, tighter hug.

“You’re the closest person I have to a family too,” Connor murmured under his breath. “In every way that counts.” A gentle pause that turned teasing. “Even if we’re both a little fucked up.”

Hank laughed at that and then stepped back, looking at Connor with a snort. Connor just lifted his shoulders in a tipsy shrug. Hank smirked and shook his head, eying the glass of strange thirium on the table.

“Not fucked up enough, if you got drunk off just an inch or so of that drink.”

Connor frowned slightly and looked over at the glass. “It wasn’t my intention to become intoxicated. I was merely attempting to…take the edge off.”

Hank raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “And?”

Connor stared at him contemplatively before shrugging again. “More testing would be required to gather more data, but…not tonight.”

Hank laughed again at that, and it broke up the remaining tension in his chest. “I think that’s a good idea, son…Hey, I think we might be able to catch the last few minutes of the game on TV tonight. How’s that sound?”

Connor’s shoulders lowered as he relaxed with a smile. “That sounds good to me.”

Hank bobbed his head and fetched a can of soda from the fridge, heading into the living room. Connor disposed of the rest of his abandoned drink and took his usual spot on the couch, with Sumo plodding out of his hiding place in the bedroom to come join them.

“Hey,” Hank prompted as he sat down in his recliner. “Are we okay?”

Connor ruffled one of Sumo’s ears, looking over at Hank with a quiet smile. “Yes. We’re okay, Hank.”

Hank breathed a little easier, and he picked up the television remote.

“Although, as honesty is considered the best policy among best friends and family members, I feel obligated to tell you that, statistically speaking, your team tonight has a very slim chance of winning the game.”

Hank sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked over at Connor with fond annoyance.

“How slim?”

“I believe the proper mathematical measurement is…no chance in Hell.”

Hank stared at him flatly. Connor stared back at him with a barely perceptible smirk. Hank turned back around and found the sports channel with a snort.

“Shut up, Connor.”

“I’m just helping you to manage your expectations.”

“I swear to God…”

Connor laughed at that, and Hank smiled to himself at the lighthearted sound…even as his own heart began to sink when he saw the score of the game on the screen.

#detroit: Become family event #dbh connor #hank anderson #tw mentions of child death

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