#like fr everyone leaves after two months here and i stuck around longer than that

[m-e-w-666]

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[pkg4mumtown]

Welcome to Hawkins PD (Ch. 3)

Chapter Title: Men’s Rooms ‘n’ Muffins

Chapter 3 of 9?

Read Chapter 2 / Masterlist

AN: I never really gave you guys a timeline for this fic, so I’m imagining it about a month or so after Season 2. So, it’s roughly two weeks into December. This one is a bit longer, so enjoy!

Warnings: Brief mention of homophobia, police stuff, strong language 

Summary: Your first day as one of Hawkin’s finest could have been worse, really.

Taglist: @kingphillipblake​

Lmk if you want to be removed or added from my taglist

I wouldn’t have minded sleeping on the bare mattress, the first day, if it wasn’t thirty degrees that night. In hindsight, I should have prepared to be on my own in December, but we hadn’t really needed heavy coats in the academy the past four months. A sweatshirt and layers in October and November had been enough with how much we were moving. I had bundled up my sweatshirt to use as a pillow, threw on sweats, thick socks, and my sweater but was still cold due to the thin walls of the trailer. I had glanced at the closet, remembering that Hopper said he had clothes in there. I bit the bullet and pulled one of his large, heavy flannels off its hanger and used it as a blanket. If he ever found out I’d slept with it, I’d be mortified.

As promised, Hopper took me to the dealership and supervised the salesman. It didn’t take much for Hopper to intimidate him, just flashes of glares as the salesman spoke to me about the cars. He would nervously glance at the Chief every now and then, which was amusing in itself. At the end of the day, Hopper’s presence even got the guy to shave off a few bucks. After that, we had bid each other goodbye while I set about buying out all the blankets at the nearest store.

-

Monday morning, I was up by six and out the door before seven. I prayed that the long sleeve I wore under my uniform would be enough when paired with thick socks and gloves for the temperature high of forty today. I turned my nose up at the thought of putting my academy sweatshirt over my uniform, but did it anyway. I’d rather get in trouble with Hopper and not be freezing, than the alternative.

I arrived at the station at seven sharp, seeing an older lady opening the front door as I pulled up. I got out of my car, slinging a small bag with a towel, running shoes, and a change of clothes over my shoulder in case I had time for a run before the others arrived.

“Can I help you with that, ma’am?” I asked, hoping she couldn’t hear my teeth chatter.

“Ah, Officer Y/L/N, I assume?” she questioned and shoved her purse in my arms while fiddling with the keys in her gloved hands.

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, shaking ever so slightly.

“Call me Flo, dear,” she smiled, finally getting the door open. She took her purse back from me, feeling my hand lightly shake as she did. “Oh, you poor thing, come here. The Chief put some essentials on order for you when you got assigned to us.”

Flo led me to a back room, my body rejoicing when I saw a heavy blue jacket with the Hawkins patch on it, among other items like extra uniforms and PT clothes. She handed them all over to me and showed me to my desk.

“We’re a pretty lax station here, but definitely change out of that thing before Hopper comes in,” she patted my shoulder, referring to the grass-stained academy sweatshirt.

“Of course,” I nodded. “I was actually hoping you could show me to the lockers, Flo. I’m itching for a run.”

“In this weather?”

“Nothin’ like a run to warm up,” I raised my eyebrows but she looked unamused.

She scrunched up her face, “Well, we technically only have lockers and showers in the men’s bathroom, but no one uses them.” She thought for a second before leading me over to said bathroom, “I’ll make sure to tell the boys, so they’re not surprised. The other officers won’t be in for at least another hour, and Hop…well…maybe he’ll be on time for once for your first day. You have some time to kill.”

Flo patted my shoulder and left me to my own devices. Near the entry of the bathroom were the urinals, while deeper into the bathroom had four lockers on either side of a long bench and ended with two open showers.

I chose a locker and changed quickly into my sweats, sweatshirt, and running shoes. I elected to keep my gloves on because I’m not that crazy. I walked back out to the bullpen and stretched lightly near the door, preparing myself to brave the cold again.

“I’ll be back by,” I paused to look at my watch, “eight at the latest.”

“Good luck,” Flo murmured as she wrote.

The first few minutes absolutely sucked as my body fought to warm up but I was able to push through it eventually. I didn’t go down too many streets to avoid getting lost on my first day, but that didn’t mean I was stared at any less. As business owners opened up shop, I felt eyes on me from all directions assessing who I was. I smiled as nicely as I could but between running and the cold air, there was only so much friendliness I could accomplish.

I arrived back at the station a few minutes before I said I would, seeing a couple more cars parked alongside the cruisers. The Chief’s truck was still absent, so it was safe to assume Flo was right and he’d be late.

Two officers were inside chatting with their feet propped up on their desks when I walked in. They glanced up at the sound of my entrance, obviously intrigued at the unfamiliar face.

“Can I hel—” one officer with glasses started as he stood up from his desk.

“Officer Y/L/N,” I stuck my hand out.

“Ah, the newbie,” the other officer chimed in while leaning further back in his chair.

“Callahan,” the first officer replied and shook my hand.

“Powell,” the other waved.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna shower,” I nodded toward the bathrooms.

“Flo already warned us, you’ve got it to yourself for the next fifteen,” Powell gestured behind him.

The shower was surprisingly not terrible and the water was warmer than the air outside, so I could hardly complain. I kept nervously glancing to the front of the bathrooms, hoping everyone had gotten the memo. I showered as quickly as possible, so I could get back to my desk before Hopper showed up.

As it would happen, the Chief was in at a decent time, for once. He was still late, but definitely not as late as usual. He stormed into the bullpen, making a beeline for the coffee and donuts, and grumbling when he saw a lack of donuts.

“Chief—”

“Flo!? Where are my donuts?” he complained loudly, even though she was right behind him.

She rolled her eyes and pushed an apple into his hand, having had it waiting especially for him.

Hopper turned up his nose at the fruit and grumbled to himself. He spun around while taking a bite of the fruit, eyeing my desk and pointing with the same hand that held the apple, “She here?”

“Yes, but—”

“Good,” he said around a mouthful of apple. “I gotta take a leak,” he took another huge bite and chucked the rest into a nearby trash can.

“Chief!” Flo called out.

“It can wait until after I pee, Flo, jeez,” Hopper mumbled while chewing and walked away.

“Chief, wait!” Powell called after him.

“Am I speaking English?” Hopper called over his shoulder as he took long strides toward the bathroom.

“Chief—” Callahan caught up to him and tried to cut him off but was pushed aside by a single, strong shoulder.

Hopper grabbed him by the shoulders and put himself between Callahan and the bathroom door, “Are you gonna watch me take a piss, Cal?”

“No, sir, but—”

“Good,” Hopper smiled sarcastically. He pushed the bathroom door open and slammed it in Callahan’s face.

“Fuck's sake,” Hopper grumbled as he stood in front of a urinal.

The seemingly quiet bathroom echoed the sound of Hopper's zipper. I panicked as I stared at his back with only socks and underwear on under my towel. I tried to dress quietly as the sound of his bodily function echoed in the otherwise empty room. I managed to get my uniform pants on, but mistakenly left the belt in when I changed earlier. The clank was noticeable enough for Hopper to look over his shoulder.

“Someone in here?” he called out.

I squeaked, shoved feet into my boots, and grabbed my long-sleeved undershirt, barely having it over my head and around my neck when Hopper zipped up and turned around.

“God dammit!” he shouted, “What are you doing!?”

“Sh—shower, Chief,” I stumbled over my words, fumbling with the sleeves as I hurriedly stuck my arms in so I could cover my bra.

Annoyed, Hopper sighed heavily and stalked over to the sink and washed his hands, “Does the one in the trailer not work?”

“No, it does. I just…it's just I got here early and went for a run…”

Hopper came back into view after drying his hands, my undershirt finally in place while I unhooked my uniform shirt from the hanger.

“This is the men’s room,” Hopper stressed, his hands on his hips and his mouth a tight-lipped line.

I held my shirt in front of me, “If we had women’s showers, this wouldn’t be a problem...” I murmured softly, not sure how he’d respond to me effectively talking back.

Hopper sighed once more, running a thumb and forefinger along his brow and gripping tightly. He made no move to leave, however.

I pursed my lips and couldn’t stop the next words from tumbling out of my mouth, “Are you paying for a show? Or…?” I trailed off while sliding my uniform shirt over one arm, then the other.

Hopper dropped his hand in exasperation, staring me down with a, what can only be described as murderous, glare, “You remember I’m your boss, right?”

I let out giggle as I buttoned up my shirt and tucked it in, “I’m joking, Chief.” I fastened my belt, then pulled out a small brush to fix my hair. I walked briskly over to the only mirror in that bathroom, right above the sink, having to pass an agitated, yet amused Hopper. “You should come with me next time,” I offered, while tying up my hair into a bun.

“What are you trying to say?” he pretended to be offended while gesturing to his stomach, throwing his weight onto one leg and tweaking his hip out. His thumbs hooked into his belt loops, framing his crotch without actually meaning to.

I looked at his form in the mirror, laughing and shaking my head. “That you should join me next time. Y’know, lead by example,” I teased. I walked past him again, lifting my foot up to rest on the bench so I could tie my boots.

“Oooh, ouch, yea,” Hopper squinted at me and bit his bottom lip. “I think I like spending my mornings with a coffee and donut, thanks.

I stood up straight, finally done getting dressed given the distraction Hopper provided. I slammed the locker shut and locked the padlock before walking towards Hopper. I used that stretch of space to fasten my duty belt and clip my radio onto my shoulder.

“Plus,” he gestured to the wide-open view of the showers from any angle due to a lack of curtains, “What are we gonna do? Shower at the same time? You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna waste precious coffee and contemplation time waiting for you to finish in the shower.”

“Yea, the invitation did not extend past running, Chief,” I scrunched up my nose. Except, I really wouldn’t mind if it did. I took a step towards the bathroom door and spun back around, nearly getting run over by Hopper as he tried to bulldoze me out. “But, if we hung curtains in here…” I raised my eyebrows, “…it could work.”

Hopper closed his eyes and let out a heavy groan, “Just do me a favor and get to work, please.”

“Yes, sir,” I gave him a two fingered salute and made my way to my desk.

I sat at my desk, inserting myself into a conversation with Callahan and Powell quite easily. Hopper poured himself a coffee and was about to round the corner to hide in his office when Flo called him yet again.

“Chief!”

“For the love of…” He sighed heavily, “Are my mornings not sacred anymore, Flo?”

“Vandalism at Vicki’s Bakery!”

Hopper let out a dramatic groan and spun on his heel to enter the bullpen again.

“Urgent, Hopper!”

Grumbling, he downed his coffee and slammed it next to the coffee maker, “Y/L/N, let’s go!”

I scrambled to my feet, barely catching my new jacket as Hopper chucked it at me from the coat hanger. He grabbed his hat and jacket as I caught up, and put them on before reaching the door.

“If we’re lucky, we’ll get free muffins,” Hopper raised his eyebrows and hummed at the thought.

I scrunched my brows at him in disbelief and pushed the station doors open. The ride to the bakery took all of two minutes, then we were pulling up to an empty spot directly in front of the shop.

“Jesus,” Hopper murmured, seeing the front and side glass windows all broken with multiple gaping holes in each.

“What in the world…” I got out of the Blazer quickly, seeing a lady in an apron through the broken glass. She had a broom leaned up against the glass display case, but seemingly had yet to use it. I glanced up, seeing a camera mounted and facing the door.

We stepped as delicately as possible, into the bakery, to avoid making a bigger mess than there already was.

“Hey, Vick,” Hopper greeted.

“Been a while since you’ve been in here, Hopper,” the older lady greeted him.

“Yea, Flo's been on my case,” he rolled his eyes and pulled his notepad out of his pocket. “This is Officer Y/L/N,” he tilted his head in my direction.

“Mornin, ma’am,” I nodded.

“Hi, dear,” she greeted warmly, contrasting the image of the broken glass around her.

Hopper started taking her statement while I examined the broken glass. There were numerous bricks that were assumed to be what had been thrown through the windows, but one of them caught my eye. I noticed paint on one side and tipped the brick over with my foot, before crouching down.

“Shit,” I murmured, reading the homosexual slur deliberately written on it.

I curiously revisited the rest of the bricks and found more slurs. I glanced at Hopper to get his attention but he was still talking to Vicki. I looked around the bakery, seeing clusters of pictures throughout. I examined each one carefully, finally walking over to a wall near the front counter, seeing pictures of Vicki at Pride marches. I was interrupted by Hopper’s heavy footsteps coming up behind me.

“Thoughts?” He questioned me while sliding his pen back into his shirt pocket.

“Hate crime,” I answered, turning to face him.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, just go look at the bricks, Chief,” I pointed with my thumb.

He stood over one of the bricks and squinted at the lettering, “Yea, sounds about right,” he sighed. “Too bad we don’t have hate crime laws, we’ll only get them on criminal mischief.”

“The damage is pretty significant though,” I glanced around the shop, “Easily a ‘Class A’ misdemeanor.”

“This much glass isn’t cheap,” Hopper agreed.

“Do you have the tapes for that camera outside, ma’am?” I turned and asked her.

“Of course, come on back.”

She led us to a back room and played through the footage from last night. I watched in amusement as Hopper had to bend over to get a better view of the screen.

“Pause it there,” Hopper pointed to the screen.

The screen paused on a figure approaching the bakery with an armful of bricks at two in the morning. Hopper squinted and told her to keep playing the video, trying to see if he recognized the man. At some point the man looked down the street, in the direction of the camera.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Hopper said quickly. “Got him.”

“You recognize him?” I squinted.

“The town asshole,” Vicki muttered.

“Mason Thomas,” Hopper finished. “You’ll get to know his face. He’s in and out of prison all the damn time. He was in middle school right before I graduated high school, always had a rep for bad behavior. Teachers caught him smoking all the time, even pulled a knife on a kid once or twice in the schoolyard.”

“What the hell?” I wondered out loud.

“Yea,” Hopper grunted as he stood up straight, “and apparently homophobic.”

“Let’s go get this jerk,” I tapped the desk and started walking out of the room.

We walked back out to the main area as we wrapped up with Vicki. I was already making my way to the front door when I didn’t hear Hopper following me.

“Can you ring me up a muffin, Vick?” he asked her as I turned around, looking at him like he was insane. “Muffin?” he asked me, pointing at the assortment.

“Criminal,” I pointed at the Blazer with my thumb over my shoulder, really wanting to just leave so we could get this guy.

“Throw another one in there, I’ll convince her,” he said matter-of-factly to Vicki and gave her an exaggerated wink.

Hopper pulled out his wallet as he waited, caught off guard when Vicki slid a box of four muffins and two coffees in front of him.

“On the house,” she pushed Hopper’s hand away.

“Nah, Vick, come on. The damages are gonna cost you,” he pointed to the windows.

“That’s what insurance is for, Hop,” she waved him off. “Just go get the guy, that’s payment enough.”

“You got it,” Hopper smirked, flipping up the lid of the box, and shoving a muffin between his teeth.

“Thank you,” I smiled at Vicki, taking one of the coffee cups.

Hopper shoved the box of muffins in my arms and turned me around with two fingers in my back, “Let’s go,” he said incoherently around the bread.

When we got inside the Blazer, I watched him eat the entire second half of the muffin in one bite. I stared at him in horrified amusement as he chewed on the dense bread. I pulled the tab back on my coffee lid and sipped it delicately to judge the temperature. Hopper grabbed his, roughly ripping the tab off and bringing the coffee to his lips without any sense of caution. He closed his eyes and let the coffee wash the muffin down, finally noticing me staring at him.

“What? Three bites of an apple was not breakfast,” he defended himself. He brought the cup back to his mouth, licking the coffee near the opening and stopping, “Eat one, seriously.”

I almost didn’t hear him as I focused on his tongue lapping the coffee on the lid before finally taking a gulp. I nearly choked on my own coffee at the sight. He raised his eyebrows at me as he grabbed a second muffin, so I humored him and grabbed one as we drove off. I finished it by the time Hopper pulled over on a residential street and took a swig of coffee to clear my mouth.

The Chief jumped out of his truck with a grunt, hiding a soft burp behind his palm. We strode up to an unkempt house with our hands braced on our belts out of habit.

“Police!” Hopper pounded on the front door with a closed fist and upon no answer, he repeated the action again while trying to listen intently to what was happening inside.

“Mason! Open up!” Hopper beat against the door harder.

I heard a scraping sound from the side of the house, making me lean over the side of the porch to take a glimpse. I watched Mason fall to the ground from his window and scramble quickly to his feet in a full sprint.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Hopper sighed as he watched Mason take off.

I vaulted over the railing, nearly tripping from the momentum forward as I landed.

“Y/L/N! Wait!” Hopper called after me as he took the easier route down the stairs of the porch.

“I got it, Chief!” I yelled over my shoulder.

I chased after Mason, considerably easier for me in actual treaded shoes while he attempted to run in flip-flops. Before I could gain too much on him, he tripped over a crack in the pavement and rolled. The forward momentum helped him to spring back on his feet quickly but by then I was right behind him.

Mason threw a wobbly punch as he turned around to face me, thankfully still recovering his balance from the fall. I used his own energy to guide the punch and turn him around while grabbing his wrist. I pulled his hand behind his back, twisting his arm when he resisted and tried to pull out of my grip. I couldn’t hear Hopper yet and Mason had yet to stop fighting me, so I jabbed the back of his knees with the toe of my boot and yanked down so he’d fall on his ass. I maneuvered him onto his stomach and was finally able to get my cuffs out as Hopper approached in a jog, slightly out of breath. I had just finished spouting off the Miranda rights as Hopper stood over us, hands on his hips and chest heaving while catching his breath.

“Good thing one of us runs, huh, Chief?” I grinned while slapping one of the cuffs on.

“Shut up and cuff him,” Hopper rolled his eyes.

“This mean you’ll run with me in the mornings?” I asked while fastening the last cuff.

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, holding out a hand to help me up. He pulled me until I was standing, hurriedly grabbing my upper arms as I swayed forward from the force. I grabbed his forearms as an immediate response, trying not to imagine how they’d feel without his heavy jacket and long sleeve. I cleared my throat and stepped back, narrowly avoiding stepping on Mason.

Mason mumbled angrily, under his breath, as Hopper yanked him to his feet and shoved him forward as an indication to walk. We took a leisurely walk back to the Blazer with Mason being dragged along. Hopper tried to burp discreetly but underestimated the force and glanced sheepishly my way.

“Shouldn’t have had that second muffin, Chief,” I laughed behind my hand as I verbally jabbed at him, feeling his glare instantly.

“Oh, this’ll be the last time I share anything with you, ya brat,” he scoffed and bumped me with his large arm.

We loaded Mason into the back seat of the Blazer through the passenger side, shoving him not so gently all the way in. I flipped the seat back to its normal position and climbed into the truck, landing in the seat with a heavy sigh. Hopper was already in the driver’s seat with his hat sitting on the dashboard as he waited for me. He started the truck and took off while I pondered over a silly idea that popped into my head.

I stuck my tongue out slightly, glancing at the side of his face. I snagged his hat off the dashboard and plopped it on my head, grinning as he scowled at me.

“I think I earned this now, don’t you, Chief?” I bit my bottom lip, trying to hide my giddy smile.

Hopper’s eyes dropped down to my mouth and back up to my eyes quickly. He squinted at me but couldn’t hold his demeanor together and chuckled while looking back at the road, “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter 4

[rainythefox]

Two Sons (Detroit: Become Human fanfiction. Happy Birthday Hank Anderson!)

Two Sons

Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit: Become Human, yadda yadda yadda...now onto a short oneshot dedicated to Hank Anderson for his birthday! Enjoy!

September 6th, 2039 – 4:21 P.M

The bullpen was a mess of activity. Officers and detectives worked at their desks, typing on their terminals or taking calls. Phones constantly rang, voices shouted back and forth, and bodies weaved through desks in a relentless habitat.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson could hardly focus on his work. Today was busier than usual it seemed, and he swore he cursed at Gavin to shut the fuck up at least three times within the last hour. He was tempted to put some headphones in. He might could get more done with heavy metal blasting his eardrums than the constant hum of the police department in the background.

It had been a usual Tuesday, not like Connor or Hank had weekends off or anything, their shifts changed by the week. The fact it was his birthday played no importance either. Connor suggested taking the day off to "celebrate", but Hank told his partner he hadn't taken a day off for a birthday in twenty years. To him, it was just another day.

Hank took a sip of coffee, shifting his position in his seat as he typed up the case report for a crime scene they had just returned from. He glanced up at Connor, who sat at the connecting desk across from Hank. With a huff of breath, he wasn't surprised to see the RK800 staring off into space again.

Hank had no clue why, but Connor had been acting strange for the past few weeks. He was easily side-tracked, lost focus during investigations, and hadn't been as talkative. It was very much unlike the partner, friend, and son figure he had come to know over the past ten months. Connor would leave as soon as they were off work and not show up back home until late at night.

Hank didn't mind that, he knew Connor deserved his own life, and that included a social life with friends like Markus and his crew at Jericho. But Connor had always made sure to make time with Hank. The android detective was particular with making sure Hank was always okay, even to the point that Hank called him a nanny at times. Connor wouldn't take it as an insult though.

Hank figured Connor was coming into his own, now that he had been a deviant this long, he was grasping life without being on a leash with coding. It shouldn't had come as a surprise to Hank when Connor starting taking off more and more on his own.

The lieutenant was happy for his partner. Although, he did start to feel that all too familiar ache within his soul, an ache he had carried for so many years. Connor had healed it, but the past few weeks, it had eddied back within him, and well, he wasn't as prepared for it as he thought he should have.

Loneliness.

Hank shook out of his thoughts and his feelings. He was being selfish, really. Connor had got up early and made him breakfast before work, wishing him a warm and happy 54th birthday.

Connor was still distracted. Hell, Hank was starting to worry that something was actually wrong with his partner. Squinting an eyebrow at him, he picked up a paper clip and tossed it at the RK800. The clip flicked Connor right above the eyebrow, making his LED flash yellow briefly as Connor became aware again. He looked over at Hank, giving a small smile.

"Yes, Hank?"

"You're doing it again."

Connor became self-conscious, eyes flicking around him before they returned to Hank. "W-what?"

"Zoning out. You've been distracted all day! What's wrong?"

"Oh. Sorry. Just have…a lot on my mind."

Hank pointed at him. "That's fine and all, but we're working. I need you focused. Can we get these case reports filed so we can get the fuck outta here?"

Connor nodded. "Sure thing. I apologize, Hank."

"It's fine, Con. Just…stop worrying me so much."

"Hank, I do have a question."

"Hmm?"

Connor looked around, looking puzzled. "No one else has said happy birthday to you all day. Do they not know? Even for as long as you've been here?"

Hank chuckled, waving him off. "Nah, they just know I hate birthdays, err, well mine. I…uhh…kinda went off on them the year after…Cole died. Guess it stuck then…"

Hank trailed off, clearing his throat. He got back to work. He felt Connor's eyes on him for a bit longer before the RK800 started working on his computer. The two partners were quiet for nearly an hour, finishing up their case notes. Connor finished first, only because he directly uploaded his report processed from his memory onto his terminal.

"Fuckin' cheater," Hank muttered.

Connor grinned, and it brightened Hank's mood. "It's not cheating. It's a perk."

Hank shook his head with a smile and finished up. After shutting down their terminals and collecting their things, Hank tossed Connor the car keys. His partner caught them with deft hands, the two walking out of the bullpen and station side by side.

One thing Hank was happy about in the ten months that had passed since Markus's peaceful demonstration and the foundation of android rights was that Connor didn't have to wear that ridiculous suit anymore. It had taken the lieutenant some convincing, but now Connor enjoyed wearing normal clothes. He still did prefer a suit, like the dark one he wore today, probably from old programming habits. Now if only Hank could get that LED off his temple…

They got into Hank's 80s model Buick LeSabre, and Connor drove them towards home. They were quiet for a while. Hank could tell that Connor was distracted again. What the hell had his dear friend so preoccupied?

"What's on your mind, son?"

Hank watched the RK800 as he drove, once again saw his LED flash yellow then blink back to blue. Connor glanced at the lieutenant, then back at the road.

"Well…since you are inquiring…" Connor tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Are you sure you do not wish do to anything for your birthday? Anything at all?"

Hank sighed. "Connor, it's not a big deal. I appreciate it, but I'm fine. Really."

"You made a big deal for the anniversary of my release date last month. You called it my birthday. You got everyone at the station involved, and even had Markus and our other friends throw a big party."

"So?"

"Why will you not allow the same for yourself?"

Hank felt exposed, and he hated that feeling. He knew that Connor meant well, was honestly wondering why Hank refused to celebrate his birthday, especially after Hank had made a big deal about Connor turning one year old. He had never made a big deal about his birthday in all of his life, but after Cole died…it was like he resented it. What's another year when you cannot watch your son go to school? What's another year when you cannot watch your son try out sports? What's another year when you cannot watch him grow into a young man? To learn how to drive? To teach him how to be a good man?

Hank brushed Connor off, uncomfortable. "Eh, what's there to celebrate? Another year closer to death? Sure."

He meant it as a joke within his unease, and then winced after the words left his mouth. Hank cursed at himself, glancing at Connor. He saw the LED flash red, the look of distress on Connor's face.

The car pulled into the driveway of their home, but both men were tensely quiet, even after Connor killed the motor. Hank clawed for some words, but he really didn't know how to voice what was eating at him.

They got out of the car and went inside the house. Sumo greeted them with happy whining and tail wags. Hank dug for words even as he let the dog outside into the backyard. The two men stood in the kitchen, quiet.

Connor spoke first.

"Last month I asked you an important question…the night after we celebrated my birthday, as you called it. Do you remember what it was?"

Hank nodded, staring at the floor. "Yeah…you asked if we were a family. I told you yes. That I…think of you as a son."

"Now can you imagine how I feel now, hearing those words from you?"

Connor sounded upset. Hell, he had every right to be. Hank flinched, really wanting to kick himself in the ass.

"You…you're right. I'm sorry, Connor. I shouldn't have said that."

He looked to his partner. Connor's eyes were lowered, rubbing his hands apprehensively, his LED yellow. "My biocomponents and the Thirium-310 that powers them enables me to have a lifespan of nearly 200 years, Hank. I only have a little time to spend with you. And I want to make the most of it…because…I'm not sure what I would do without you. I cannot even fathom it right now. So please…do not joke that way."

The impact and hurt he dropped on Connor was repelled back on him. Hank had spent three years of his life in emotional disarray from Cole's death, not caring what happened to him, hell even trying to kill himself at times to not have to deal with the pain and loss anymore. But Connor had started healing that. His ever steadfast, rational partner with a bio-heart of gold was here, and he cared. He was new at life. He was new at feeling it.

It made Hank's words that much more insensitive. All because he wanted to avoid the discomfort of talking about his feelings over his birthday. He felt the need to wipe his eyes.

He grabbed Connor into a tight hug. "I won't. I promise. I'm sorry, it's just that…after Cole died, I never wanted to celebrate…ever again." Hank pulled away to look at Connor, gripping him by the shoulders. "But then you came along and changed everything. I made a big deal of your birthday because it is! I care about you that fucking much. And instead of just fucking saying that, I had to be an asshole…"

Connor chuckled, and Hank felt a little relief in the pit of his stomach. "You do have a tendency to speak before you think."

Hank stepped back from the RK800. "Guilty as charged. Still, it's no excuse to hurt you like that."

"It's alright, Hank."

Hank scratched his head. He thought back on Connor's heartfelt words to him. He said he wanted to make the most of the time they could share together. But Connor had been spending so much time away from him. He didn't bring it up though.

"I have something for you."

The words caught him off guard. "Huh?"

Connor pulled something out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and extended it to him. Hank's eyes fell on a USB thumb drive. Hank slowly reached up and took it, peering it over.

"What is it?"

"It's a USB flash-drive."

Hank rolled his eyes. "I fucking know that! I mean what's on it?"

Connor smiled, cocking his head slightly. "Perhaps you should plug it into the hard drive of your desktop and find out?"

Hank gave him a suspicious stare before turning to go to his desk in the living room. Connor followed but stayed back near the sofa. Hank sat down at his desk, plugging the USB drive in and loading it up. There was a video file on it and so Hank clicked on it.

He was watching video clips of an amusement park. Upon closer inspection, he recognized Pirates' Cove, the old amusement park on the Detroit River that closed down a few years earlier. This was before it closed, and so many people flourished the park. He heard laughter, rides going, so much activity. Hank didn't realize it at first, but the video was jumping back and forth between recordings from EM400 Jerry androids, the usual models used for amusement parks.

Hank was about to question Connor on exactly what this was, when he heard it. A voice he thought he would never hear again. He froze. His heart clenched in his chest. His blue eyes shot open. He couldn't breathe.

"That one, Daddy!"

Cole. It was Cole. His little form, right there. Sitting atop his shoulders, pointing at something behind the Jerry. Hank looked a tad younger, shorter hair, not as much grey. He followed Cole's hand with his own finger.

"That one?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

Cole giggled. "Yes!"

"What are you going to do with a shark with flames on it?"

The child shrugged his shoulders in over exaggeration, still smiling. "I don't know!"

Hank saw himself put Cole down outside the booth. His son climbed up on one of the seats, a ship canon made out of plastic and cheap paint faced in towards the booth. Hank rubbed Cole's head.

"Alright, so what do we have to do to get Mr. Shark with Flames?" Hank asked.

The Jerry answered in its ever-upbeat attitude. "Well, mateys! You just have to shoot the canons and defeat the monstrous Kraken!"

"Oh, it's a big octopus, Daddy!"

"Is it? You think you can shoot that sucker down? Looks pretty scary."

Cole got ready, giddily shaking his head. "I got this!"

Hank laughed in the video. He handed the Jerry some cash and the canons turned on. Hank watched as Cole moved the plastic canon around, laughing and shooting plastic balls at some unseen creature behind the Jerry. He looked so determined, but so happy. After a few moments he squealed in delight, jumping up in his seat and pointing.

"I got it, I got it! Did ya see, Dad?!"

"Holy moly that giant octopus didn't stand a chance! Great job, son!"

Cole's tiny hand smacked the palm of Hank's in a cheerful high-five. The Jerry clapped, turning away briefly to get the prize.

"You're a natural pirate, matey! Here you are!"

"Thanks!"

Cole took the plush shark, blue with green and gold flames all over it. He squished it up to his body, grinning ear to ear.

"What are you gonna name him?" Hank asked, kneeling down to be level with his young son.

Cole squinted one eye, thinking really hard. "Hmm…How about...Frank!"

"Frank…the shark?"

"Yep!"

Hank chuckled, ruffling his son's head. "Alright, Frank it is. Is Frank hungry?"

Cole vigorously nodded. "Yep. Sharks are always hungry, Daddy!"

"Oh boy, we better feed him before he takes a chunk outta you!"

Hank pinched Cole's side and the child squealed in laughter. He stood his height and took Cole's hand. The two walked away together, Cole holding the plush shark under his other arm. The video stopped.

It was so quiet. Hank could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the shaky breath he finally choked out. He was crying. Hadn't realized he had been crying the whole time watching the video. His fingers trembled and he just…couldn't believe it. He never thought he would hear Cole's voice again, see his smile.

He felt something break within him. It hurt at first, like he was reliving the day he finally realized Cole was gone forever. But it subsided, and all he could feel was…warmth, a soothing yet aching warmth. He stood up, wiping his eyes, still trembling. He turned to face Connor.

Hank couldn't understand how Connor could have known about this, or how he got the video, but then he recalled it. He told Connor months ago about taking Cole to the Pirates' Cove amusement park the summer before he turned six. He told him how it was one of the best days of his life, and one he deeply cherished of Cole.

Connor looked shaken. His eyes blinked rapidly and he avoided Hank's hard stare, his LED flashing yellow and slowly turning red. Hank knew the look. Had seen his partner do it many times when he was confused and trying to reanalyze exactly what he had missed, or messed up.

"Hank…I didn't mean to upset you. I thought it would make you happy. I expected some sadness, yes, but…but…I had no intention of hurting you like this. I am so-"

Hank pulled him into a tight hug, tears still streaming down his face, and he could only choke out a laugh. "I am happy you fucking idiot. Sometimes…sometimes humans cry when they're happy."

"I know that, but your vital signs are really concerning."

"Emotions always screw everything up," he said, pulling back. "How…how did you find this?"

"It wasn't easy," Connor said, calming down. His LED returned to blue. "But I sought out help from Markus and his friends. I wasn't even sure if any of the EM400s that had any interaction with you and Cole were still alive…many were killed in the deviant demonstrations back in November. I showed them Cole's picture so they could scan through their memories. It took me weeks, and I was starting to think I wouldn't be able to find anything. After talking with 14,736 Jerry EM400s, I found the one on the video. He was able to give me that single clip."

"Is that…why you've been gone so much?"

Connor nodded. "Correct. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, as you like you say."

Hank chuckled, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Yeah, I bet. Connor…this is…this is the best gift anyone could ever give me. Thank you."

Connor smiled, looking relieved. He then glanced at the computer screen, the video paused on Hank and Cole walking away holding hands. "You're welcome, Hank. I wish…I wish I would've been able to meet him."

"He would've loved you, Connor. He…always wanted a brother." Hank let loose a shaky breath. "You know…I never told you this, but…when Cole was around two I had a dream that I had two sons. The dream's foggy now, almost forgot about it after he died. But…I do recall a taller, older son, and a younger son. I always assumed the taller one was Cole, you know, after he had grown. But now I know…know it with all my heart, it was you."

Hank could tell that Connor was touched by his words, could tell how he considerably brightened. And well, it was the first time the RK800 cried. As Connor touched the tears, shocked and staring down at his wet fingertips, Hank pulled him into another hug, feeling a lot more at peace.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918795

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13058312/1/Two-Sons