#notjustanoldman

[notjustamachine-blog]

––––––– ◤ cont. @notjustanoldman​◥

But Connor does need Hank to tell him he’s good. To truly believe he is GOOD. Hank’s opinion means so much to Connor, more than the other probably could comprehend. It took time for the android to even accept the fact he was a person. A being with agency, freedom to make his own choices. Able to decide who he really is.

“You’re right, I don’t need an old man to tell me so. I need you.” Connor speaks softly, LED glowing a soft yellow, lighting up his temple. So many memories tormented the android, perfectly stored in his mind forever. Hunting  and  killing  his own people. T R A I T O R O U S. Red blinked for a few seconds. Other androids forgave him, but could he forgive himself? Did he deserve to? Connor wasn’t sure. Guilt was an entirely new emotion, one that made his chest feel hollow and shoulders heavy.

“Please, Lieutenant. Hank. Just tell me I am,” he pleads.

[notjustamachine-blog]

‘you met me at a very strange time in my life.’

A quiet chuckle passes his lips. Connor could say the same to Hank, though knew enough about social situation to not make this about himself. Learning and adapting, what he was good at.

“I have only known you in this time of your life, I wouldn’t recognize it as strange,” he responds, smiling kindly at the lieutenant. Though Connor could assume Hank wasn’t always an alcoholic, skipping out on work due to hangovers and depression. Briefly, the android wondered what Hank was like before losing Cole. If they’d get along as well, make good partners.

He reaches out and pats the older man’s shoulder. “Would you like to talk? If there is something on your mind, I am all ears.” Connor does a quick scan of Hank, analyzing him before speaking again. “Though, if I may say, I was happy to meet you when I did.”

@notjustanoldman​

[notjustamachine-blog]

♚ (( put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up ))

Connor wears a mask of calm, the polite smile on his lips only faltering slightly. Corners of his mouth almost twitching to keep up the facade of understanding. He’s sat besides Hank, the two had been conversing about a case before Captain Fowler interrupted with…unfortunate news. Sure, the android should have seen this coming. With the success of the revolution, all androids were to be given freedom. Released from their owners and bosses. Connor had foolishly hoped he’d be an exception, having truly loved his job as a detective. Maybe he’d need to apply for a position, once androids alike were given full rights and could be given paying jobs. It should be easy, Connor is far more qualified than any of the current detectives working.

A brief glance to his partner, well…now former partner, tells him Hank is not pleased with this decision. And history shows that Lieutenant Anderson does not hold back when it comes to expressing his displeasure. Before a scene is caused, Connor’s hand gently rests on Hank’s knee in hopes of keeping from launching himself at the Captain. “I understand, Captain,” Connor says smoothly, giving Hank’s knee a squeeze for reassurance. Whether that reassurance was for Hank or himself, he couldn’t really tell. Once Fowler retreated back to his office, Connor let his mask down, mouth turning downward in a frown and brows furrowing in distressed thought. Hand, still on the other’s knee, shakes slightly.

@notjustanoldman

[notjustamachine-blog]

"Connor. C'mere a second." Hank's hand fell upon Connor's shoulder, a fond look glinting in his eye. He didn't have to lean down, not to get his lips where he wanted them. As the people around them burst into cheers, Hank pressed a soft kiss to the android's forehead. "Happy New Year."

Connor turned his gaze towards Hank, away from the bursts of coloring exploding in the sky, gentle hues warm as he looks up at the other man. His eternal clock tells him it’s just passed midnight, the start of the next month…the start of the new year.More importantly, a new year with Hank. Another 365 days he can spend with him and Sumo, their little family.“Hank,” he chuckles, a fond sound as Hank’s lips press to his forehead. All other noise around them seems to dim, cheering and applause fading to the background. Connor is solely focused on the man stood before him. “I believe it’s customary to kiss someone’s lips.” He brings a hand up to cup Hank’s cheek. “Though, I won’t complain.” Forehead kisses always made him feel safe.