Connor is attacked while walking Sumo, and ends up hurt and unable to turn his human-looking skin back on. Hank has never seen him without it, but the only choice is to lean on Sumo and limp home…
Gen, 1811 words, Rated Mature, Hank & Connor Father and Son Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt!Connor, Protective!Hank, Deviant!Connor, Post Pacifist Best Ending, Good Dog Sumo, Hate Crimes Against Androids, Crying, Hugs, Feels, Connor Without His Skin, Connor Whump
Summary: Xavier Castillo makes the connection between Oliver and Connor and the murders. He finds incriminating evidence on Oliver’s computer and gives him an ultimatum if he wants to keep him and his family safe.
Wow hi, this is my first time writing a Coliver fic in actual years, and this is probably horrible and rushed. But I developed this idea from a tumblr prompt (thanks to @crispyoperawolfdean) and just had to write it. Please enjoy, and feel free to send me more prompts
Read this on AO3 > https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067344
Check out my other works here > https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyouxactually/works
-Jess <33
“I want a divorce,” was a sentence Connor never in a thousand years he thought he’d hear from Oliver. He couldn’t be serious. It had to be some stupid, sick joke Oliver was playing. Perhaps for all the times Connor would leave dirty clothes on the floor right next to the laundry basket, or the times he’d forget to take out the garbage, maybe even the times he’d let dishes pile up in the sink. Connor admitted he wasn’t perfect, far from it in fact. But even with all the horrible things he’d done to make his way through law school, evading the FBI, the lying, cheating—surely that would have been what drove Oliver away, not dirty dishes. Connor reached for Oliver, fingers just barely brushing Oliver’s warm hand before his husband flinched away.
“You what?” Connor questioned, his voice low as he just stared at Oliver who seemed to be avoiding him like the plague. Oliver stood much too far away, hands trembling as they reached into his laptop case revealing a folder. He held it out to Connor, eyes fixated only on the ground.
“I’m serious, I want a divorce.” Oliver’s tone was cold. Connor ripped the folder from Oliver’s hand, eyes furiously scanning the divorce papers. Fear surged through him, his hands shook so hard the letters and words all fumbled together in an incoherent mess. Hot tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
**
Connor sat slumped on the couch, a blanket draped around his shoulders. An array of takeout containers and empty bottles of beer scattered the coffee table before him. It was the middle of the night and he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t bother putting on any lights, he sat in the dark, with only the soft light of the television illuminating the room. Truthfully, he didn’t even know what was playing. All he knew was that he couldn’t stand to sit in the silence. He never felt like more of a stranger in his own home. His empty home.
Oliver had left. The words played through his mind over and over like a broken record, and with every loop it was just another stab at his heart. His whole world had come tumbling down, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had actually happened. They were happy. They were living the life they always dreamed of. Connor couldn’t help but smile as he reminisced back on when they were still living in Oliver’s apartment. They would huddle under the blankets, as if in their own fortress where they would be protected from the outside world. They would hide and share their hopes for the future. Get married, move into a home in the suburbs complete with a white picket fence and a garden because Oliver was insistent on having a vegetable garden, and eventually have babies. And they had done it.
They found their perfect home right on the outskirts of the city. A huge backyard where Oliver wasted no time in landscaping the area for his garden. There was even a park right down the street they would walk to on the warm summer nights and just enjoy the calm quiet of the neighborhood. Before long, they had their son, Gabe, who would take those walks with them. Their little family had come together right before their eyes and everything was perfect.
Connor still couldn’t believe he was a father, let alone a husband. Just a few years ago, he would roll his eyes and say ‘I don’t do boyfriends,’ yet here he was changing dirty diapers and tucking his sweet baby Gabe into sleep every night. Connor and Oliver adopted Gabe when he was just under a year old. He had soft curly chestnut hair, with deep eyes to match. His chubby pink cheeks made Connor swoon, and the first time Gabe called him “Daddy” Connor couldn’t hold back the tears that welled in his eyes.
Gabe had just turned three, and was still firm that Daddy be there for him to fall asleep every night. Oliver would stay up with Gabe on nights when Connor was stuck at work late, waiting for him to get home. Connor would arrive to see Oliver passed out on the couch, with Gabe wide awake in his arms, and instantly yell “Daddy” as Connor walked through the door. Connor would take Gabe up to his room, tuck him in and read him stories. It wouldn’t be long before Gabe was sound asleep. Even though he was finally asleep, Connor would stay with him. Sometimes he’d lay next to him, kissing his head and telling him how much he loved him. Other times, he’d just watch Gabe sleep peacefully, wondering how in the world he got so lucky to be blessed with the most loving husband and sweetest child.
If only it was still like that—perfect. When Oliver left, he took Gabe with him. ‘I’m taking Gabe—I’m sorry but...you’re just not in the right mental state to be caring for a child,’ Connor’s chest tightened as Oliver’s words rang through through his mind. His precious baby boy, and the absolute love of his life, gone. Oliver was the one this holding Connor together, ever since the beginning with Sam. Oliver was there for him even when he least deserved it. He had just cheated on Oliver to get information for a case like a fucking idiot. It should have ruined everything for good. But that night with Sam, he couldn’t be alone. He didn’t know where else to go, but Oliver took him in even though anyone else would have turned him away. Oliver comforted him. Connor knew he didn’t deserve Oliver. It would be just a matter of time before Oliver realized how awful of a person Connor was, and leave him for good. He practically expected it, but not when their life was already established.
To have his entire world ripped right from him was undoubtedly the most terrifying thing he never thought he would have to experience. The craziness was supposed to be over. They slipped past the FBI, able to swiftly cover up everything that happened. Sure, Laurel’s family had caused some trouble, but they seemed to primarily be focused on Laurel herself, and Annalise. They were supposed to be safe. Annalise promised him that they were safe.
The threat of tears stung Connor’s eyes. With a swift motion he hurled himself off the couch, maneuvering his way to the kitchen to snag the near empty bottle of vodka off the counter. As he stumbled through the house, memories of Oliver and Gabe played before him.
Gabe was sitting at the kitchen table, coloring his family portrait while Connor and Oliver prepared dinner. Oliver was wearing his ridiculous blue and white striped apron while he stirred the pot of vegetables. ‘It makes me feel like Martha Stewart and I like it so shut up,’ was what Oliver had retorted the first time Connor saw him wearing it and raised a very questioning eyebrow at him. What he would give to see him wearing it now.
Climbing the stairs, he passed all the pictures they had hung neatly on the wall. Their first family photo with Gabe. Connor and Oliver both holding Gabe with an arm around each other as they beamed at the camera. The absolute love and happiness that radiated from them—where had it gone? Connor dipped his head as he continued, unable to bear seeing the ghosts of his family. He made his way into Gabe’s bedroom. Oliver hadn’t left very much, but there were still some toys scattered about the room. Gabe’s bed was still neatly made, untouched. Two months ago, Gabe was supposed to have gotten into that bed, and Connor was supposed to put him to bed just as he always did. But it never happened.
Connor carefully sat on the bed, almost afraid it would fall apart—just like everything else. A hand smoothed over Gabe’s blankets, trying to feel for where Gabe should be right now. Where was Oliver and Gabe? Oliver hadn’t once contacted Connor since that night he took off. He’d probably never hear from him again. The cap twisted off the bottle of vodka with ease. Connor pressed his lips to the bottle, the smell of the alcohol burning his lungs. He took a long swig, face turning to a grimace as the liquid made its way down his throat. He deserved this. Tears threatened to escape, he quickly blinked them away. How did this happen?
Connor should have hated Oliver. Hated him for taking everything away. Maybe that was Oliver’s plan all along—to get back at him for all the awful things he had done. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Oliver was always reassuring Connor, telling him how good of a father and husband he was. How he worked so hard to care for his family, that Oliver couldn’t have been more proud of him. He took another chug, downing the remainder of the alcohol before tossing the bottle to the floor. Collapsing back on the bed, Connor just stared at the ceiling. This was the universe punishing him for everything. He deserved this.
**
It was going to be a great day. Oliver was preparing a dinner that night for him and Connor. Gabe was going to Laurel’s for the day to hang out with her and Christopher so him and Connor could have a night alone. It was going to be perfect. Oliver had already made up his list of groceries he would need tonight. A steak dinner with vegetables and some of their favorite red wine. A cozy dinner followed by a night cuddled up on the couch with some movie they won’t even pay attention to because they’ll be so busy making out. Oliver couldn’t contain the goofy grin that spread over his face. This day couldn’t go by fast enough
As he made his way into the office, the secretary informed him there was a man in his office waiting for him. Odd, he usually only sees people by appointment only. As he strode into his office, a man in a suit—a really nice suit—was sat in his chair. His deep brown hair was gelled perfectly out of his face, and his eyes were like black holes—sucking Oliver in.
“Good morning, Mr. Hampton. Why don’t you shut the door and have a seat? We need to chat.” Oliver obliged, the cold tone from the other man sent a shiver down his spine. Carefully, he sat in the chair in front of his desk. The man smiled at him before reaching into his briefcase. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Hampton, I’d really like to discuss some... interesting activity with you,” the man tossed the a file over to Oliver. With hesitant hands, he opened the file, eyes scanning the pages frantically. How did this happen?
“I’m sorry—who are you?” Oliver asked with a slight tremble, quickly gulping the knot that had formed in his throat. A large smile stretched across the man’s face.
“My name’s Xavier Castillo. Now, enough of the formalities. I’m very interested in your connection to some of the things that have been going on lately,” Xavier motioned to the file in Oliver’s hands. He couldn’t help but tremble. They got his computer back from the FBI. All the evidence had been destroyed, Frank even helped him with making all of it totally untraceable.
“Listen, I’m not sure what you think you know, but I think you need to leave.” Oliver stated firmly. If he just kept his cool, things would be fine. A low laugh erupted from Xavier.
“I had a feeling you’d say that. Listen, Mr. Hampton, I really didn’t want it to come to this, but you’re leaving me no choice.”
**
They were going to take everything away from him. If he didn’t confess, they were going to hurt Connor—or worse, Gabe. Oliver’s head was pounding, trying to think of a way out of this. What if he went home right now, grabbed Connor and Gabe and took off? Disappeared. Moved far away where no one would ever find them? No, Xavier undoubtedly has people watching him from here on out... he isn’t safe. Connor isn’t safe. Oh god, Connor. How could Oliver do this to Connor?
“This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home tonight and tell your husband you want a divorce. Tell him he’s an unfit father—hurt him. Make him believe it.” Oliver cringed at Xavier’s words. “If you don’t leave him, with your son, we’ll make sure the FBI gets their hands on everything. Everything that shows both you and Connor’s involvement with these murders. If you don’t want him, or your son to get hurt in any of this, you’ll do as we say.” Oliver sat slumped over his desk, tears rolling down his cheeks. What if this really was the only way to protect his family? He couldn’t risk anything happening to Connor or Gabe. But how was he supposed to leave Connor? After everything they had been through?
A numbness came over his body, weighing him down further and further in his chair. Moving seemed impossible. None of this felt real. But after seeing what he did to his own mother, Xavier was capable of anything. This was the only way to keep him and his family safe.
**
Two months. Two months since Oliver left. Two months since he saw Connor. Two months since Gabe saw his Daddy. The last time Oliver saw Connor, he had never looked so broken and torn—confused. It killed Oliver to leave. Gabe didn’t understand any of it.
“Papa, where we going?” Gabe had asked from his car seat, him and Oliver driving down the interstate to an unknown destination.
“I told you Gabe, we’re just going away for a bit, okay?” Oliver tried to soothe him.
“Oh...where’s Daddy?” Gabe questioned instantly. Oliver bit his trembling lip, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to escape. He couldn’t let Gabe see him cry.
“Daddy can’t come with us Gabey—he’s at work.” Oliver knew the lie wouldn’t work.
“Okay, Papa we’ll wait for Daddy!” Of course Gabe wanted to just wait for him, it’s what he did whenever Connor wasn’t around to put him to bed. Oliver reached a hand to the backseat, rubbing Gabe’s foot as they drove.
Gabe barely slept the first week they were away. Every night he screamed for Connor, wanting his Daddy. Oliver tried all the tricks Connor would use, but nothing worked. He so desperately wanted to just go back home. Oliver couldn’t stand the thought of the trauma this was giving Gabe. Being ripped from his home and Daddy with no explanation, not understanding any of this, because really none of them understood it—this was all so much bigger than them, and this seemed like the only way to keep things normal. But this wasn’t normal.
Oliver had finally just gotten Gabe to sleep. The poor toddler cried himself to sleep after yelling for Connor for what felt like hours. He stumbled over to the fridge in his new apartment, fetching some cold takeout leftovers to have before heading off to bed. The soft golden light of the street lamp outside the window reflected on his wedding ring. The glimmer caught his eye, heart sinking immediately. Is Connor still wearing his wedding ring? Probably not. Who knows, Connor probably long forgot about Oliver. He must have moved on. A young, attractive man like him—there’s plenty of other people out there.
He couldn’t take this anymore. The living in fear. Xavier was sure to keep close contact with Oliver, making sure he wasn’t planning on going back on their promise. Periodically calling and even making trips out to see him. Xavier had set up this living arrangement for Oliver, even got him someone to help take care of Gabe. ‘You should be thankful for everything I’ve done for you. I saved your ass from the FBI, you and your son. Now you two can live a normal life.’ But how was this living? How was raising his son in this strange place helping anything? How was being kept from the love of his life making things better? Nothing made sense. All Oliver knew was that he missed Connor. He missed the other man’s warm embrace, the sweet familiar touch of him that he was so used to waking up to every morning. But now, all he wakes up to is a cold, empty bed. The guilt was eating away at him. Connor had been through so much, and now for Oliver to take everything away from him, he couldn’t even imagine the pain Connor must be in. The pain he felt himself was unbearable.
Oliver dug his phone out of his pocket, quickly dialing the only number he could think of. The phone rang. Once, twice.
“Hello?” Connor’s husky voice came from the other line. Oliver sighed in relief, hearing his husband’s voice again. “Hello? Who is this?” Oliver had called from a new phone. Ordered to get one by Xavier so that Connor wouldn’t try contacting him. “Oliver?” Connor questioned. In panic, Oliver quickly hung up the phone. Connor couldn’t know it was him—but to hear his voice again. He sounded so defeated and broken. Oliver hated the thought of what he had done to his husband.
**
Connor knew it was Oliver. He didn’t know how but he just knew. Without wasting any time, he grabbed his coat and rushed over to Frank’s house.
“You look like shit,” was the first thing to come out of Frank’s mouth the moment he laid eyes on Connor. His hair was disheveled, facial hair unkept, and dark circles lay under his eyes. No one had seen much of him since Oliver left. People tried reaching out to him, offering their support, but he just shut them all out. It was hard enough to deal with all of this, but with other people constantly asking him if he was okay—when he clearly wasn’t—it drove him insane.
“Yeah, nice to see you too—listen, I just got this call, and I think..I know it’s Oliver,” Connor handed Frank his cell phone before plopping on the couch. Laurel suddenly appeared from around the corner, stunned to see Connor.
“Connor! Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re here,” she rushed over to him, pulling the man in for a long, tight hug. Connor offered a weak smile. “Is everything okay?”
“I got a call—I think it’s Oliver...” his voice trailed off, just saying his husband’s name made his chest tighten. He couldn’t contain the tears anymore, they flowed like an open faucet. Connor collapsed into Laurel’s arms, heaving hard as he tried to catch his breath between sobs. “I miss him—so fucking much...” Laurel soothed a hand over Connor’s head, rocking him back and forth.
“Shhh...it’s all gonna be okay.” She tried to console him, but he just sobbed harder. Frank was already pulling up his computer to trace the number, hopeful to get some answers. Connor’s cries slowly turned to little sniffles, pulling himself away from Laurel as he tried to regain composure. He never let anyone but Oliver see him like that. The last time he was this hysterical was the night of Sam’s death. Even for Oliver to see him like that was an embarrassment. “I wanted to let you know, I got some pretty good news. Annalise and I have been working really close to try to bring down my brother.” Connor raised an eyebrow at her. “After the incident with Emmett, we really think we’ve got some evidence to point all of this towards him. It’s no surprise my family has kept close with the DA’s office, and after what happened with Ron, Denver, and now Emmett, the FBI is starting to get suspicious.” Laurel concluded, brushing some hair away from Connor’s face.
This should have been good news. Perhaps finally the Castillo family would officially be brought down and they wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. Connor tried to be happy for her—for all of them really, if the Castillos were brought down for this, it would save everyone else’s ass—but he couldn’t take his mind off Oliver and this mystery caller. “Not to mention, we definitely think you’re right in assuming this is Oliver,” Laurel stated, and suddenly Connor perked up.
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, Frank and I have been keeping a close watch on my brother. Frank saw Xavier by Oliver’s work a few months ago. We really didn’t think much of it—but then the divorce happened...” she trailed off, taking Connor’s hands in hers. “None of it made any sense. You guys were so happy, and the baby—it just didn’t seem like Oliver to up and leave like that. You were so torn, I didn’t want to get you involved just to get your heart broken if we couldn’t figure this out.” Laurel explained. Connor held onto every word she offered, turning to Frank for validation.
“This number you gave me, I traced it to Allentown. Xavier was there last week,” Frank explained, tossing Connor his phone.
“Yeah, I had called him wanting to see him,” Laurel started, “he said he was going to be out of town for some IT related business. He tried playing it off as something relating to his company, but it didn’t seem right.”
“So what do we do now?” Connor asked, wiping away the remainder of his tears. For the first time in months, he felt hope. Hope that Oliver was alright, hope that he might be with Oliver again soon, hope that he would see Gabe again, and hope that they could be a family.
“We, aren’t doing anything. You are staying here, taking a shower and getting some rest ‘cause god knows you need it. I’m gonna go check this out.” Frank was already up and shrugging into his jacket. “Laurel, please make sure he showers, he really kinda reeks,” Frank chuckled before slipping out the door.
“Everything’s gonna be okay Connor, we’re gonna get Ollie back,” she gave him a warm smile. Connor rested in her embrace once more, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. All he could wish for is that this could be over. This nightmare he had been living for the last few months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Before long, Connor was fast asleep, for the first time in a while, feeling the slightest bit of peace of mind that his life could go back to normal.
**
“Connor?” A hand shook at Connor’s shoulder, attempting to wake him up. “Connor, come on—get up,” the soft voice came again. Connor grumbled, grabbing at the blankets to pull them over his head. A low laugh errupted, making the couch that Connor was sleeping on shake. “Wow, you really have never been a morning person...” A pair of soft lips pressed to Connor’s forehead. “Please wake up, Con,” the voice pleaded. Connor rolled onto his back, stretching and trying to will himself awake. As his eyes fluttered open, light poured in, making him rub his eyes in discontent. A warm hand cupped Connor’s face, thumb stroking over his cheek. “Connor.” The familiar voice suddenly rang through Connor’s ears. His eyes shot open, Oliver was on the couch beside him. In panic, Connor bolted off the couch, grabbing the blanket as he stumbled further away.
“No—no, no, no...no...this is just a dream. You aren’t real...” Connor stammered. Oliver rose, stepping towards him carefully.
“I’m real, Connor. You’re not dreaming...this is real,” Oliver made another step closer towards the other, he grabbed Connor’s hands and placed them on his face. Connor’s eyes instantly filled with tears.
“Ollie?” Connor pleaded, Oliver nodded, his own tears making their way down his face.
“It’s me, Con. It’s me, I’m here.” Connor let out a wail as he grabbed onto Oliver so fast and desperately, it sent them both tumbling to the floor. Connor held Oliver tightly, body shaking as he heaved out heavy sobs. Oliver clung to Connor, both unable to get close enough to the other. “I’m not going anywhere,” Oliver mumbled through his sobs, “I promise, I—” Connor quickly silenced Oliver, smashing their lips together in a desperate, needy kiss. Those lips he had been deprived of. His Oliver. Connor sighed into the kiss, hands snaking around Oliver’s waist and pulling him up onto his lap. Oliver broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to Connor’s. “Con, I’m so sorry... I didn’t want to do this to us—I just didn’t know what else to do.” Connor shook his head, rubbing soothing circles into the small of Oliver’s back.
“Ollie—please. I just, I’m so happy to have you back. This has been a nightmare. Life without you is a life not worth living. I don’t want to think about any of that right now.” Oliver nodded, brushing away Connor and his tears, feathering soft kisses all over Connor’s face. “Where’s Gabe?” Connor questioned. Before he could even finish, the front door to Frank’s house flew open.
“Daddy!” Gabe screamed, running hurriedly over to Connor and Oliver before pouncing on them. Connor grabbed at Gabe, swooping him up into his arms and showering him in kisses all over his face down to his belly. “Daddy I missed you,” Gabe cooed, nuzzling into Connor’s chest, grabbing a fistful of Connor’s shirt.
“I missed you, Gabe—I missed you and Papa so much,” Connor said between kisses on Gabe’s head. Oliver couldn’t help but smile, seeing Gabe and Connor together again.
“Papa? Daddy?” Gabe asked, pulling away from Connor to look at his fathers.
“Yes baby boy?” Oliver asked, reaching out to grab Connor’s hand.
“Can we go home now?” Gabe looked up at Connor pleadingly, offering the same look to Oliver.
“Of course. We can go home now,” Connor replied softly, giving Oliver’s hand a squeeze. Things weren’t perfect, and they had a lot to figure out—mostly with how they were going to make sure Xavier and the rest of the Castillo’s were going to pay for everything they’ve done—but for now, they were together again. And nothing, was ever going to come in the way of their family ever again.
Connor opened his eye, surprisingly feeling very sore still as he looked over at the police lieutenant. It didn’t seem like Hank was hurt which was a good thing, but that didn’t me he was ready to be chewed out yet for being reckless. “I know.” He croaked, his voice having a staticky undertone as he spoke. “D-did anyone else get hurt?” He asked, watching the older male carefully. Errors threatened to block his vision, his system trying to tell him how messed up and broken he was at this point. Honestly, he was surprised he was even awake right now with how busted his system seemed to be. That’s when another thought hit him. He was missing an eye and an arm. How were they going to find the parts to replace those? He was a prototype and last he had checked, parts for RK800′s weren’t just laying around. He didn’t bring this to Hank’s attention though, knowing it would probably only upset him more.
By chance, Connor’s running late to work. He left the small apartment he’s been set up in on time, but while his programming is advanced, he’s not able to predict the minor bus crash that slowed down his morning, nor is he able to predict the subway being closed for mandatory maintenance, leaving him walking swiftly to work.
He’s running ten minutes behind by the time he steps up to the Detroit Police Department, and he’s walking toward the door when he hears a gruff voice to his right.
“Hey. Tin Can.”
Connor keeps his gaze forward, keeps his shoulders squared. “Detective Reed.”
“What? You too good to look at me?”
Connor turns his head to look at Gavin, who’s leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Connor doesn’t say anything; he only tilts his head slightly, a silent prompt to see what Gavin wants.
“You think you’re hot shit, huh?” Gavin growls out. “Designed to be perfect at this job, yet I heard Fowler say that you’re going soft.”
Connor can pair diction with tone to know what Gavin means, but after running through a few scenarios, feigning ignorance has the best chance at ending the conversation quickly and peacefully.
“I don’t know what you mean, Detective Reed.”
He ran through five different options before speaking, but none ended with Gavin grabbing him by his jacket and slamming his back against the brick wall of the outer building. Yet, here he is, looking at Gavin as calmly as possible while Gavin balls his hands into fists in his jacket.
“You’re a fucking piece of shit, plastic. You know that? You walk up every day with that pompous, condescending attitude, and it pisses me the fuck off.”
“Might I recommend offering your constructive feedback to CyberLife?” Connor says coolly, but before he can continue, Gavin’s pressing the butt of his cigarette into Connor’s cheek.
Connor can feel the heat, and he can smell the bitter scent of synthetic skin burning; though, it doesn’t hurt. It’s more a hassle; he’ll have to partially deactivate his skin later for repairs, but while he can’t feel the physical pain, his LED is glowing red at the sense of danger. He wasn’t created with a fight or flight choice; an option to flee isn’t in his programming. He’s designed to fight at the chance of danger, but Fowler isn’t happy with him, and Hank’s taking the brunt of the disappointment.
He’s aware there’s a strong chance that Hank could get in trouble if he fights back, so he lets Gavin push the cigarette into his skin until it burns out and Gavin steps away, tossing the cigarette off to the side.
They hold the other’s gaze for an impossibly long time after that. Gavin looks to Connor like a predator looking at his prey, but Connor only offers Gavin a passive look, knowing that any hint of emotion will trigger a secondary, negative reaction, one that will further prevent him from doing his work.
Gavin is the one to break the elongated stare with a scoff before he stalks into the building, and Connor counts ten seconds before walking in himself.
He’s aware that many people are watching him, with his wrinkled jacket, hair slightly out of place from the impact against the wall, and of course, the circular burn mark on his cheek, but he pays no mind as he maneuvers around desks until he’s slipping into his chair across from Hank.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Lt. Anderson.” Connor calls over his computer before he turns his gaze to it, already scanning files of deviant complaints.
“It’s fi-- What the fuck?”
Connor flicks a gaze back to see Hank leaning forward and looking at him with such a studied gaze. He tilts his head in silent question, and Hank points to his own cheek.
“Is that a cigarette burn?”
“Yes,” Connor answers, opting for a straightforward route because recently, Hank’s been able to see past his lies. “It’s merely an issue with cosmetics. I’ll have it repaired by tomorrow.”
“So it doesn’t hurt?”
“No.”
“So did you just decide to press a burning cigarette to your cheek?”
Connor pulls a steady gaze back to his computer, but he’s not scanning files; instead, he’s considering possible outcomes based on his next reply. Hank, like many of the detectives here, can be quite unpredictable in his actions. He’s not stagnant in personality and action, so Connor’s next reply must be strategic, careful--
“It was Gavin, wasn’t it?”
Connor flicks his gaze back to Hank, and perhaps he looked to quickly, or maybe his pupils are dilated slightly because Hank knows. Even without Connor verbally confirming. Hank just knows.
“How--”
“There are exactly seven people who actively smoke here,” Hank starts. “Four of them you’ve never met. Two don’t have a problem with you, and that leaves one fucking prick who’s had it out for you since the day you arrived.”
“I can see why you’re a highly sought out detective, Lt. Anderson.” Connor’s hoping sudden flattery will derail the situation, but Hank takes it as verbal confirmation and jumps to his feet, eyes burning hot as he sees red.
“Lt. Anderson,” Connor starts, hopping to his feet and quickly slipping around the desk to latch strong fingers to Hank’s arms, promptly stopping the older man.
Hank doesn’t look his way, but Connor still speaks.
“Starting a fight will not help with anything,” Connor starts, keeping his voice slow and calm in the hope to cool Hank’s temper. “Detective Reed is not worthy of your time.”
“He needs to learn--”
“--you can’t educate the ignorance out of a person like Detective Reed,” Connor finishes, and Hank turns to him with an arched brow.
“You’ve got a point there, kid.”
Connor smiles, and for once, it’s not a forced attempt at showing emotion, and Hank moves back to his desk and grabs his coat from the back of his chair.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“To a crime scene?” Connor asks, following Hank out of the building.
“No,” Hank gripes out. “The closest bar. I need a fucking drink.”
*****
For many, it takes roughly around a day for the mind to cool off from anger-induced adrenaline, but because of Hank’s drinking, he’s noted as a wild card.
So when Hank shows up at Connor’s apartment two nights later, bruised and bloody, with bright red and slightly swollen knuckles, Connor doesn’t say anything. He only silently guides Hank to the bathroom where he keeps medical supplies for situations like this, and he tends to the older man, working to keep a smile from tugging at his lips as Hank mutters about how much he hates Gavin the entire time.
Just a hurt!Connor fic that I wanted to write ever since that kitchen scene happened
Just A dad looking out for his robo-son, you feel me?
Summary: Chasing a deviant for a trial, Connor ends up loosing his footings and tumbles off a balcony. After a few hits, he lands, worse for wear.
But Hank is there, and does his damn best to help out his partner. After all, he deserves it, and no android could pry away Connor's life from Hank's hands. Not if he had anything to say about it.
"It appears that your line of androids is rampant in bad luck, Detective." - Agent Himura
Connor was sitting up in his bed when the agent came in. Almost instantly, he was frowning, his mood ruined. Hank had stepped out of the room and had made no indication of when he was coming back. “I don’t think one could call this bad luck. More of a professional curtesy.” His voice had a staticky undertone as he spoke. “Why are you here, agent? I didn’t think you would be one to visit coworkers while they’re hurt.” He narrowed his eye at the man, his hand gripping at the sheets as if thinking that doing that would ground him. It didn’t.
Finally, after what seems like hours, Connor falls asleep. Careful so as not to rouse him, Oliver pulls up the blanket and tucks it around Connor's still trembling body.
Connor's hair is still wet from the shower Oliver helped him take, water droplets dripping down onto the pillow beneath his head. He's wearing one of Oliver's t-shirts and a pair of flannel pajama pants, and curled in on himself, hands clutching his biceps, knees brought up close to his chest.
He looks so different from the man who waltzed into Oliver's life at the bar that night months ago. He's small now, stripped of that expensive suit and that confidence. He's fragile. Vulnerable.
Something stirs in Oliver, the need to protect.
"O-oli..." Connor says, voice muffled by the pillow.
"I'm here," Oliver says, though he's certain Connor is still asleep.
"Oliver... I'm sorry, please..."
"Hey." Oliver touches Connor's shoulder. Connor sniffles but relaxes, though as soon as he retrieves his hand, Connor's brow pulls together again, face shining misery.
"Okay," Oliver says. And then again, "Okay," for his own benefit.
They fought last time they'd seen each other. But that doesn't seem to matter now.
Not when Connor needs him so desperately.
So Oliver slides into bed behind Connor and wraps him in his arms. Connor turns and buries his face in Oliver's chest. His fingers grip tight on Oliver's shirt.
"I'm here." Oliver combs his fingers through Connor's hair, pushing it away from his face. "You're safe."
