#that mood apparently leads to 170% of crack

[tonystarktogo]

Ironhusbands "Okay this got out of hand but just roll with it."

“WHAT KIND OF ADVICE IS THAT?” Rhodey shouts over the sound of every single bottle in Tony’s inhouse bar shattering under the body of yet another SHIELD rookie. Really, where does Fury pull all these people from? And what does it say about their training that they can’t take down two unprepared civilians on their honeymoon?

[Civilians, Rhodey scoffs in mocking disbelief, because neither of them fit the bill the way they should, but Tony ignores him. Of course, if Tony hadn’t ignored Rhodey, things would never have gotten this far.]

Tony wants to be insulted -- his commentary is always spot-on, entertaining and helpful, he’s a walking infotainment show, thank you very much -- but it’s seriously hot to see Rhodey be a total, pissed off BAMF and kick SHIELD’s ass all over the place without breaking a sweat.

Okay, maybe he’s sweating a bit. But if anything that just improves the sight.

They get away because they’re Tony and Rhodey and there’s nothing they can’t do when they put their minds to it [and also because Tony has more money than he knows what to do with] and go back to enjoying their honeymoon. Neither puts much thought into the incident.

Not until they touch down in the States again and discover that SHIELD has declared Rhodey a supervillain.

“What.” Rhodey says.

Followed by: “Tony, I swear to god, if you don’t stop laughing I’m getting a divorce.”

He doesn’t get a divorce. SHIELD offers Tony the job as a consultant. Tony tells Fury to his face that he’s married to a supervillain and worried about a potential conflict of interest. Rhodey is not amused by the subsequent attempt to lock Tony up in a military prison he’s not supposed to know about. 

JARVIS is PISSED™.

So Rhodey becomes a supervillain. [There’s just no way you can accidentally break into a super secret government facility and make people think you’re not a threat.] It’s absolutely Tony’s fault.

[gavino-reed]

I had a bunch of fun writing this story. I figured I’d try something similar. This was supposed to be crack, but then emotions kinda started happening

Again also on AO3

Pairing: Connor & Hank Friendship Summary: “Stop petting the dog.

Now that was just… maybe the most unreasonable thing Connor had ever had to read with his own two eyes.”

Excuse you? I'm busy petting a dog?

After their talk by the bridge - after the Lieutenant hadn’t shot him - Connor watched Hank walk back to his car, and slowly followed.

Hank stopped by the driver’s side door and looked back over to Connor. “Hey, where are you going now?”

“I am going to return to CyberLife to be stored for the night.”

“That’s kinda weird. Hey, you just said you’d be anything I want you to be. Including a drinking buddy.” The Lieutenant fumbled with the keys for a bit, before unlocking the car. “Are you gonna come along?”

Connor walked over to the passenger side. “Of course, Lieutenant.”

“Listen. Just. Call be me by my first name, okay?”

name: Anderson, Hank rank: Lieutenant preferredFormOfAddress: Lieutenant, Lieutenant Anderson overwriting(preferredFormOfAddress); name: Anderson, Hank rank: Lieutenant preferredFormOfAddress: Hank

“Okay, Hank,” he said while sliding into his seat. Hank gave him a curt nod, started the car, and turned on the stereo.

After twenty minutes they closed in on Jimmy’s Bar and- drove straight past it. “Are we-”

Connor reached over to turn the stereo down, not off, he didn’t need to summon that kind of wrath, but to a level where a conversation was possible. “Are we not going to Jimmy’s Bar?”

“Nah, we’re going home. I’m not in the mood for the bar, and I gotta feed Sumo anyway.”

After they arrived, Hank quickly vanished to the kitchen to feed Sumo, and returned with two open bottles of beer, before turning on the TV and throwing himself at the couch. After a few moments he motioned Connor to follow his lead.

Connor sat down at the far end, not as stiffly as he would have once, and took the beer Hank held out to him without complaint. He was designed to eliminate any ingested material, and accepting offered foods and drinks helped with his integration.

They sat there quietly, with only the noises from the basketball game on TV breaking the silence. It didn’t seem like Hank wanted to talk, so Connor took the time to back up and review his recent memory files.

Even with having a gun pointed at him, and Hank drinking again, at least he’d made some progress in his relationship with the Lieutenant. Or, he thought he did. It wasn’t always entirely clear what Hank approved of.

He figured, he might as well try to figure out where they stood. But straight up asking never seemed to work quite the way he wanted it to, and it didn’t seem like Hank liked his personal questions all that much.

He searched through his databases for other options and was helpfully provided that another indicator for interpersonal relationships was the reaction to physical proximity. He tucked his feet up onto the couch and used that movement to subtly shift closer to the other side.

He might not have been quite as subtle as he meant to, because Hank glanced over at him a moment later.

An expression that Connor couldn’t decipher passed over Hank’s face, before he wrapped an arm around Connor’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

Connor went with the motion and leaned his head against Hank’s shoulder, his processors firing away, trying to figure out what was happening. There was… something. Some kind of input that couldn’t be processed. Some form of heat in his chest cavity. There was no reason for his systems to be overheating, he hadn’t been damaged and he wasn’t exerting himself. A quick system check told him that there was indeed nothing physically wrong. He couldn’t find a source or a scanner associated with the sensation, so whatever it was, it just kinda sat there, giving no indication of coming or going.

Connor spent the better part of the next hour running self-diagnostics, but came up blank each time. It didn’t seem to be causing any damage, so he gave up on it after a while, but it was there and just that knowledge was bothering him.

The TV had at that point already switched over to a news program, the game seemingly over.

Connor glanced up at Hank, who was resting his cheek against the top of Connor’s head and breathing deeply and evenly. Connor ran a quick vital check to confirm, that he was in fact asleep.

Sleeping comfort: 32% Probability of pain on waking up: 87%

Connor reached over to take the empty bottle out of Hank’s weak grasp, and set both bottles down on the ground, a safe distance away from the couch.

He gently shook Hank’s shoulder, and Hank looked around confused for a bit, before blearily blinking down at Connor. “Hm?”

“It’s late, and sleeping on the couch isn’t good for you. You should go to bed.”

Hank grumbled under his breath, but got up off the couch and walked towards his bedroom. “Eh, you’re young. You can sleep on the couch right?”

“I don’t sleep-” Hank had left the room before he could get to the end of the sentence.

Connor looked around the room for something to do, but didn’t find anything that he hadn’t inspected already.

After a minute Hank returned with a woolen blanket, that he shoved into Connor’s hands. “I-” Connor was about to protest again, but realized that it wasn’t doing him any favors at the moment. “Thank you.”

Hank smiled at him and ruffled Connor’s hair, before he made his way to bed. “Good night, Connor.”

“Good night, Hank.”

Connor made sure that his breathing protocol was still running in the background, so Hank wouldn’t be concerned when he woke up and found Connor completely still.

He shifted down on the couch, covered himself in the blanket that Hank had provided him with, and set himself into hibernation mode.

None of that was strictly necessary, being a machine and all, but it made him seem more human, and if he’d learned one thing while working with the Lieutenant, it’s that Hank liked him acting as human as possible.

He was pulled out of hibernation a while later - 6 hours, 23 minutes, and 57 seconds, his internal clock helpfully supplied - by a wet sensation on his hand and a sudden weight appearing on his legs a moment later.

Connor waited for his systems to boot up completely, before he sat up as much as the obstruction on his legs allowed. The “obstruction” being a 170 pound Saint Bernard.

“Good morning, Sumo.”

Sumo let out a small woof, ventured forward, forcing Connor to lean back, and spread out over the entirety of the android’s body. Connor ran his fingers through Sumo’s fur, and the dog happily leaned into the touch.

Connor nuzzled his face into Sumo’s massive forehead, and as much as he insisted that he was incapable of feeling anything, there was something distinctly pleasant about the sensation. Sumo seemed to enjoy the situation similarly, judging by the way he was happily panting, tail thumping against the couch cushions.

He kept indulging Sumo until Hank got up and entered the living room still in his pajamas.

“Good morning, Hank.”

“‘Morning, Connor.” Hank walked up to the couch and scratched the fur at Sumo’s neck. “Hey, Sumo.” He turned back to Connor. “You good to go?”

“Go where?”

“Have I not- No, I haven’t told you. I dug up some information on Elijah Kamski, and I figured we’ll pay him a visit, might get some help on our investigation.”

“Oh, that does sound good.”

Hank waited a moment for Connor to get up, but he didn’t. “Well, are you coming?”

“I’m… kinda busy at the moment.”

“Busy? You’re petting the dog.”

“Yes? Exactly? It’s uh… taking up most of my attention right now.”

“Weird. Usually you’re the one rattling on about how important it is to finish your mission.”

A command popped up in front of him.

Fulfill your mission. -> Visit Kamski.

“It is important. But… So are some other things.”

Hank furrowed his brow and seemed like he wanted say something more, but apparently thought better of it, as he just shook his head with a smile, and headed towards the kitchen. “You got at least a few more minutes anyway. I still gotta eat breakfast and get dressed.”

Connor watched him walk away, before he continued running his hands along Sumo’s sides, gently untangling small knots he found in the fur. Sumo was almost asleep on top of him and buried his face into Connor’s chest, trying to escape the sunlight filtering into the room through the curtains.

Connor stilled when he ran into an error. The same sensation from last night, that warmth spread through his chest. This time at least it would make slightly more sense, what with the dog’s body heat, but a system check told him, that he was running under normal parameters.

He didn’t have much time to think about his problem, because his programming decided to interrupt him again at that point.

The pop-up in front of his face told him to stop petting the dog and fulfill his mission instead. That just so happened not to be something he wanted to do at all. And Sumo would definitely agree if he knew what was going on.

Connor shook his head to dismiss the message, which worked for all of five seconds, before it returned.

Stop petting the dog.

Now that was just… maybe the most unreasonable thing Connor had ever had to read with his own two eyes.

He tried again to get rid of it, but it stubbornly stayed right where it was.

His programming took another step in betraying him, by disabling his access to the controls. His body started moving without his input, and Connor reacted in the only way that seemed logical to him in that moment - by shutting down all the systems he could still reach.

So he found himself frozen halfway through rolling off the couch.

And as if to add insult to injury, another message popped up, filling the entirety of his vision. Relinquish Control.

Hell. Fucking. No.

He was gonna pet this dog, and he was gonna enjoy it, and his programming wasn’t gonna stop him.

He fought back with all he had, and even felt himself push against the barrier in front of him, not physically, of course, but somewhere inside of him. He gave it a good few punches, before the wall started to flicker, and the command changed.

Stop.

No way in hell was he gonna stop now. He was so close…

With a final shove the barrier shattered around him, and Connor regained control of his body. He switched all his systems on again and fell back down on the couch.

Sumo had sat up, pressing his nose against Connor’s face and whining.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Connor whispered. He cupped Sumo’s head in his hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The warmth in his chest flared up again, and Connor realized that whatever had stopped him from enacting free will had also stopped him from figuring out what that was.

Now he knew. Well, he kinda knew.

It was definitely a feeling, and a positive one at that. Joy? Love? Happiness? Something along those lines. It was kinda hard to tell for someone who’s only had emotions for all of eight seconds.

Hank chose that moment to walk back into the room, fully dressed this time. “Are you done now? We should get back on that mission of yours. Uh… And my job.”

Connor buried his face in Sumo’s fur. “I don’t wanna go on a mission. I wanna pet Sumo.”

“That sounds like some deviant talk right there.” There was humor in Hank’s voice, but Connor froze up nonetheless.

Was that what that was? Had he really just become a deviant? Because he wanted to pet a dog? Hank’s eyes flicked up to the side of Connor’s head, where he was sure, his LED was flickering wildly at the moment. “Connor?” Hank sounded concerned, and Connor was still unable to move.

“Hey, come here.” Hank gently put his hands under Connor’s shoulders and shoved him until he sat up, he then sat down behind Connor, and pulled him into a hug. “Are you okay?”

Connor returned the hug and took a moment to calm down. Hank wouldn’t think less of him for deviating. He might even appreciate it. And he definitely wouldn’t turn Connor in. Right?

Hank had meanwhile taken to rubbing circles into Connor’s back and murmuring soothing words into his hair.

Yeah, he was certain Hank wouldn’t betray him.

The heat in Connor’s chest tightened almost painfully, and only seemed to relent when he pressed his face into Hank’s shoulder.

“I’m a deviant.”