sociallychallenged | (no subject)

[He hears it, but just makes himself more comfortable where he is. He can't exactly pinpoint why, but he likes it here. Listening to Hank's heartbeat. He could honestly fall asleep like this.]

If you're not happy, that's important to me.

[Connor closes his eyes, but he's still frowning to himself.]

Is there anything I could do to make you happier?

You're doing it right now.

[Hank rests his hand in his hair and pets it again, tracing his fingers through fine hairs.]

You let me eat you like a bear and now you're using me as a pillow. Those are pretty great things. [Even if he hadn't 100% been on board with his identity as a pillow at first, he has full embraced that side of him.]

What do you like about this place? [He is more asking him so Connor doesn't have to drift off with all of Hank's shitty baggage on his mind.]

[He fiddles with Hank's shirt idly as he speaks.]

The people are friendly. I get to keep lots of pokemon. I get to spend time with you as a friend, not just a partner. Being human isn't exactly the best thing that's ever happened to me, but it meant that I could finally be your buddy to drink with.

[That was one of the options he'd given Hank, wasn't it? He'll be whatever Hank wants him to be. His partner, his buddy to drink with, or just a machine. The offer still stands, though perhaps without the machine part.]

Yeah, well... I actually miss you being an android sometimes. Wish you had a switch you could flip up and down and choose from.

[He rubs right behind Connor's ear with his thumb. He's glad that Connor's had the experience of being human for the sake of empathy, but he doesn't fundamentally want to change who he is.]

But I do like having someone to drink with.

[Even if, at this point, Connor feels a little beyond a buddy.]

You do? Why?

[The touch is welcome, and he feels himself gradually getting more and more tired.]

Not that I disagree with you. I'm just surprised that you would miss it, too.

[What did he do better as an android?]

You just had a different way of discovering the world around you. I don't miss you putting godawful shit in your mouth. But I liked how you could just look at someone's environment and know their whole life story. There's something to be said for actually sitting down and fuckin' talking to someone, definitely. But there was a way you did it that...

Hard to put a finger on it, really.

[He just misses it. Those little quirks where Connor would ask him out of nowhere about heavy metal or about his dog. Where he'd suddenly bring up something in their environment and it felt as though it were out of nowhere.]

It's not that it was better. It was just it's own brand of both frustrating and enjoyable. I hope we're not here so long that you forget that part of you.

I don't think I can forget it. It's all I've ever known, at least up until a couple of weeks ago.

[He shifts, getting more comfortable where he is.]

I miss being able to scan things. I miss not having to eat or sleep, though both can be enjoyable in their own way. I miss not being able to feel pain.

[Oh, how he misses it. Headaches have no redeeming qualities.]

But I feel it's a worthwhile trade, if it means I get to be here with you.

[Some sentimental, sappy drunk bullshit coming from a very sleepy Connor right now. But he means it.]

[Hank's other hand comes up to rest around his back, returning the hug that Connor started by grabbing onto him a little while ago.]

Maybe one day I'll get lucky and be able to try being an android. Headaches could just fuck right off forever.

[He continues to lightly rub behind his ear, though, his own heart beating at a pleasant, steady, relaxed pace.]

Maybe one day.

[He yawns, deciding not to go into whether being an android could be considered "lucky". Maybe in a place like this, where people seem to be more accepting, it would be.]

Until then, there are pills.

[Which Connor hates.]

[Either he has it bad, or there's something fundamentally adorable in the need for an android to yawn. Maybe both. He's not exactly tired yet, but he's comfortable. He thinks maybe he could go to sleep like this himself; harder to get bogged down by heavy thoughts when something cute is laying on you.]

You'll figure them out one day.

[He'll just keep squawking at him until he does.]

[Connor shifts his head so that he’s looking up at Hank, resting it in the crook of his arm instead. He looks sleepy and content, and he gazes up at Hank fondly.]

I may just chew them. It’s better than choking on them.

Don't worry. Eventually I'll show you how to swallow something bigger.

[He hopes that this is the afterlife or he's going to go to hell for that sentence. But since he's gotten away with everything else tonight, he's not gonna bring it up. But now that Connor's moved a little, he settles in for a generally loose hug, just holding him.]

Bigger? Like what?

[Look, you can’t just say shit like that and expect Connor not to ask when he doesn’t get it. Because he will ask, and he will sometimes be very persistent with it.]

I meant the pills.

[But now he's got tired drunk chuckles, amused at himself. He had meant it cleanly when it first came out of his mouth, but once it existed in this world it was just the worst thing to be saying with Pokemon fucking watching him.]

But it reminded me of something else. Don't worry. Stupid joke.

[He visibly relaxes.]

I thought you were going to tell me there were bigger pills.

[He still looks confused by the laughing, though.]

If you insist.

There are. There are some you don't even take with your mouth. Hopefully this place doesn't have the illnesses that mean you gotta take those.

[And then Hank yawns himself. Today's been an informative day for Connor, and who knows how much of it he'll actually retain. Hank tried to keep him from getting forget-everything drunk.]

Oh.

[Well. He watches Hank yawn, before closing his eyes again.]

Will I feel ill in the morning?

Maybe. I tried to stop you before you got too drunk. [He did get him drunk enough to eat his beard, though, and that's a memory he'll treasure for as long as he's here. He can't imagine that he left Connor with too many opportunities for regret.]

Won't be too bad if you are.

Good. What about you? You're very drunk.

[Drunker than Connor, but of course Hank had whiskey and not hard lemonade.]

It's been worse. [He doesn't mind so much. He knows his head will kill him in the morning, but he also had water, he knows what to do when he gets there. Still, he hugs Connor a little tighter, tiredly adjusting him so he can hold him a little better. He's drunk enough to be forward about that, even if the feeling is starting to ebb.] I'll get through it.

[He just lets out a tired "mmm", and soon drifts off, content where he is.

The next morning when he wakes up, it takes him a few moments to realise why he's so comfortable. He's still nestled in Hank's arms, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He debates moving, he really does. Normally he wouldn't even worry about waking Hank up, because if Connor is awake it probably means Hank should be, too. But he's comfortable, and he just doesn't want to leave this position yet. Something about it just feels nice.]

[Hank is having a weird goddamn dream. They're on a case, going somewhere in his car. He's the type of asshole that managed, in the year of our lord 2038, to find a stick shift vehicle. And here is Connor, driving for him for whatever reason, and he has just realized that his shift has been replaced by a big fucking dildo.]

[This is greatly distressing Hank, but Connor doesn't seem to mind, or even notice. So he's just changing gears agressively, and Hank is doing everything in his power to tell him what's wrong only for some reason he's not allowed to say particular words that might indicate that his stick shift is suddenly a big ol' knob.]

[So they have to go to this place, and he can't even tell Connor to look down.]

Connor... [Hank says in the real world, warningly, before shifting over in his sleep and hugging his partner to him like a gangly rag doll, pressing his mouth against his hair with a sleepy sigh.]

Yes?

[He murmurs his response sleepily before realising Hank is dreaming. Oh, is he in the dream? Interesting. He lets Hank hug him closer, feeling a little pang in his chest that he doesn’t quite understand before slowly hugging back. At least, with one arm. His other is now being crushed.]

Hank... my arm hurts.

[He shakes him slightly.]

Well you're grabbing it too hard. [Is what Hank wakes up saying, because somehow Connor's words seeped into his head. And briefly, in a state of partially woke unreality, he tries to shift Connor into a less painful position where he's not laying on him.]

[Though in the process, as he's propped up and leaned over him, he starts to wake up fully and blinks twice.]

Oh, I was on it- [He dimly puts together the thing that was wrong was not the thing that he thought was wrong.]

Sorry.

[Didn't mean to crush him... that time. Anyway. He's been sleeping with Connor in some capacity or another all month, so waking up holding him isn't as awkward as he'd expect. Which is almost awkward in itself. He slept well for someone that should rightfully sleep fitfully. Though, to be honest, his mind is working out that he shouldn't be trying to remember where he parked still. His emotional capacity is at, 'Connor looks uncomfortable so I need to let him retrieve his body parts'.]

[At least waking up wasn't as much of a fight.]

[Connor just rubs his eyes and shifts underneath Hank slightly, giving him a sleepy smile.]

You were dreaming.

[He’d almost feel bad about waking him up, but this is Connor we’re talking about.]

How do you feel?