[He doesn't look thrilled about it, but he nods with a sigh.]
If you need it.
[For now he'll follow Hank, though every time he picks something up Connor scans it. And for a few things, he makes an unhappy noise and folds his arms. "There's twice the daily recommended amount of salt in these." "Did you even look at how much sugar is in those?"]
Yeah... yeah I need it. [It's at least a start, a grim admission that, yes, he's an alcoholic. And maybe he needs to go through the process of not wanting to be one.]
[They get to the diner and Hank orders the biggest fucking burger he can. One with all the trimmings, because you can't hardly get those in the city. He has a coke with too much sugar and a donut and he's fucking starving.]
I don't care. I haven't eaten since the evac.
[He stuffs the thing in his face as soon as it's delivered with all the enthusiasm of meeting a Dagwood sized sandwich.]
[Connor sighs heavily but doesn’t protest any more. Instead he starts to watch other people, and catches the eye of a young woman who seems to be watching him with her friends. She giggles and looks away, her friends teasing her and encouraging her to talk to him. Connor kind of hopes she doesn’t come over.]
We’ll get you sober eventually. And maybe we’ll get you eating healthier, too. You do know that the name of that burger is “Death by Cow”, right? It’s in the menu as a challenge. You might win a shirt, but is it worth it?
I might win a what with a death by who? [Hank is already halfway through the monstrosity when he notices the girl looking. And he's driven, self-conciously, to wipe his face with a napkin out of an oppressive sense of.... He doesn't know? What the hell does it matter to him, outside of Connor's android identity. Connor can look out for himself. He doesn't need to babysit him.]
Look, Connor. I'm not going to cut all fatty food out of my life. Especially when it's cheap and I'm this hungry. But if you really want me to I'll box up half, save it for later.
[He'd really rather eat it hot, though.]
[He almost brings up that girl that might come over there and talk to them, but he can't bring himself to do it, because he might sound jealous, right? Right. Pffft. Jealous. Why would he be jealous? Nah. It does something between making him lose his appetite and making him want to eat more, though.]
I don’t want you to cut it all out, I just... it’s called death by cow, Hank.
[He doesn’t feel like that’s getting through to him.]
If you’re going to eat it, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or later. You’ve bought it now, so enjoy it. Might as well try to get that shirt, right?
[Hey, it’s more clothes for them. The girl slides out of her seat and comes over finally, so Connor looks her way. She’s very pretty, but he still draws a blank when she presses a scrap of paper into his hand and hurries back off to her friends, slightly red. He looks down at the paper. It’s a phone number with the words “call me” underneath it. He seems confused, but pockets it.]
Fuck that cow. I can take it. [Because he's hungry, and contest or not, he could eat it. So he starts scarfing it down again, which he knows isn't the most attractive thing. And it's that self-consciousness that actually leads him to trying to not get any condiments in his beard, as a self-conscious man do.]
She's trying to flirt with you.
[God he's trying not to sound like it bothers him, but the edge of annoyance enters his voice as he uses his napkin. He's already almost done.]
God it really had been a while since I'd last eaten.
[Connor looks over again to see the girl making very pretty eyes at him, but he's not really moved. He does catch that irritation in Hank's voice, though.]
Would you like me to get rid of the number?
[Not that it would matter, it's locked in his memory now.]
Try to eat slower. You'll make yourself feel ill.
[He sounds genuinely concerned for him, at least. And far more interested in Hank than the girl.]
[But then he hesitates.] Look, it's your free will to do what you want. Me telling you what to do in a non-job setting would be pretty assholish of me, after you went through all that shit to be-
[Considered a person? He holds his tongue in public, on the off chance they might be overheard. Best not to say too much.]
What you do with it is up to you.
...But if you do, don't do it in front of her. You'll give her a complex or something. [He picks up his Coke and drinks it, following Connor's advice and letting the food he's eaten settle. Small wins for Connor.]
Let's be honest, I might do it to you again but it would be as an irritated friend to a friend and not as a human to an android. It's not like you're not here telling me how to eat my food.
[Whether it's his own catty humor or whatever, he does look more relieved. And he feels more relieved, which he doesn't want to think about. But he goes back to finishing off that burger.]
[He notes that Hank is showing signs of relief, and it makes him curious. He lets him finish his burger, and when he's done he leans back in his chair and watches as a waiter comes over to congratulate Hank on finishing the burger while he clears his litter away. He asks Hank what size shirt he takes, because he's won one for completing the challenge. When he leaves, Connor breaks his silence again.]
Yeah, let me grab that whiskey. I don't think they'll card me or anything.
[He breaks off from Connor, heading back to where he can find a general store and therefore a bottle of cheap and raunchy wild turkey, a first aid kit (just in case) and some soda in small bottles so he can reuse the bottles for water when they inevitably go broke.]
[He comes back to the room, worrying about what's happening to Sumo back home. Hopefully he's alright. He left him with a lot of food, and even though he and Fowler had a falling out surely Fowler will send someone to check on him after that stunt he pulled. If Sumo is there, someone will take care of him.]
[Connor is in the middle of changing clothes when Hank comes back, shirtless and with his pants undone and hanging low on his hips. He seems entirely unbothered by Hank walking in on him, just giving him a little smile in greeting.]
Did you get your whiskey?
[He has two shirts laid out on the bed, and another folded neatly beside them. He's already tried that one on.]
Jesus [He starts, which isn't the appropriate response to the question. But he just walked in, and there's Connor in his god's honest glory. Hank sort of stumbles the bag onto a chair.]
Uh, yeah. Got myself some bottles of soda, too. Everything's pretty cheap because the town is small. Rural places, right?
[He's obviously trying to save a little face from that idiocy. But he finds his pulse racing, and rather than looking at Connor's face, his eyes keep straying to his hips, before they wander to the bed where he decides to sit. Yep. Everything normal here.]
[Fucking... moron. He probably doesn't even have a dick, he tells himself. There's no need to look at him like he might.]
[He notes that initial reaction though, and he can tell Hank's heart is racing. Odd. He casually steps out of his pants, and has to turn around and away from Hank briefly to find where he'd put the bag with the jeans in. Enjoy that view, Hank.]
[Well hell, look at his back. Deceptively delicate looking. And man, those hips look like the perfect shape to hold onto. You know what? No. No he's in a wierd ass place, in a strange situation, he doesn't need to be-]
[And then Connor asks that.]
Well I- [What, doesn't look as good as Connor? What the hell, Hank! Don't say that. Fucking asshole. Connor's already seen you looking your fucking worst.]
Right. [Is what he settles on, and sheds his coat and starts to unbutton his loud print shirt, focusing on what his fingers are doing. But it's about at his navel that he realizes that, though it's mostly hidden by loose jeans, he is working on a half chub. So he'll just do the thing of turning his back to Connor to remove his pants. He grabbed new underwear too but he'll just wait on those. Yeah.]
[He at least pulls on the new jeans quite quickly once he finds them, but leans across the bed to grab a shirt. He happens to glance over as he does, and notices Hank's embarrassing reaction to the situation.
Ah.
His eyebrows raise a little, and he grabs his shirt and stands back upright again. He should have realised it, honestly. He should have figured it out sooner. He mentally kicks himself for that error. Connor, you're supposed to be a detective.
He fiddles with his shirt idly, before slipping it on. There's something else that's been bothering him, and that's the way he'd felt when Hank was being flirted with. Was it jealousy? What would he need to be jealous for? Hank isn't his. He shouldn't be feeling that way about his partner. And yet he finds that when he glances at Hank's back again, he's looking a little closer. He looks like he'd be nice to hold. Cosy. Warm.
Without really meaning to react that way, he finds himself smiling slightly. And when Hank decides to turn around again, he's still got that little smile playing on his lips. He heads over to the bed and sits down again, pulling his coin out and walking it over his fingers.]
[Hank pulls on his T-shirt first, then the print shirt over it, and then the jeans and goes generally through the whole harrowing process of wearing clothes from another universe, and tries to school out thoughts that are inappropriately timed.]
[He turns and there is Connor on the bed with a shit-eating grin and his coin. What the fuck did he do?]
[Hank looks around as if something might be amiss. But it's fine. And then back to Connor, to whom he just clears his throat.]
Fine right now. Just uh... It's a lot... happening at once. You know. Pretty fucked up. [He can't really discount that he just noticed his partner is pretty, on top of every other weird damn thing.]
[He softens the smile slightly, and gives Hank an earnest look.]
Are you tired? Maybe a nap would do you some good. I can keep watch.
[He finds himself wondering what would make Hank's pulse race again. How much can he get away with? He quite likes the attention when it's from Hank. Of course he needs to think about the implications of that, but he can do that while Hank sleeps, whenever he does.
For now, he leans back against the bed slightly, propping himself up with one hand and rolling the coin across his fingers. Still smiling ever so slightly.]
Can you uh... pretend you're asleep because I think me just laying there being watched would be kind of strange. I don't mind you being in here or even in the same bed I just uh...
I mean, it doesn't have to be in the bed. It could be the chair.
[Yup. Making this awkward. Hank is tired, though. He's had a fucky last couple of days, a fistfight with a fed, a gun held to his head, and saw a revolution happen.]
[Honestly he thinks he might actually be dead but he's not sure.]
[In any case, he gets in bed, picking a side for his. He pulls the blankets over him because it's cold enough for that.]
[He moves the extra clothes off his side of the bed and slips in under the sheets with Hank. The bed isn't that big, so he's pressed against him a little. He doesn't try to move away, he just scans Hank again for a reaction.]
[Yup, this is a problem he created for himself. In his desire to avoid creepy android stares, he now has a lithe body pressed against his own. If he wanted to fuckin' cause his own death he's well on his way to making his own heart attack, the way this makes his pulse race.]
Yeah, just do that.
[Hank says it earnestly, but this body is betraying him.]
The bed's kind of small so uh... if you want me to give you space or, you know. I'm fine. I just uh...
[You know what, Hank Anderson? Shut the fuck up.]
[The reaction is there, though. He's still in his jeans for the nap, but between a heightened pulse, some color changing in his cheeks, and increased blood flow to conspicuous areas, he can't really deny the reactions to a man with senses as accurate as Connor's.]
[Please don't let Connor undress. Hank's pretty sure he won't rest at all if he does.]
[He shifts, pulling Connor so that his head is resting on his shoulder and his arm is around his back.]
Good. We'll be messy together.
[And he needs to shut up his brain before that wanders off to worse places. Though from here, Connor can probably get an even better earful of Hank's heart.]
[He was right in thinking that cuddling Hank would be a nice experience. He's warm and soft. He rests his hand on Hank's chest after a moment, and closes his eyes as he listens to Hank's heart thudding.]
How long do you want to sleep? I'll set myself to wake at the appropriate time.
[He starts fiddling with one of the buttons on Hank's shirt while he talks.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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If you need it.
[For now he'll follow Hank, though every time he picks something up Connor scans it. And for a few things, he makes an unhappy noise and folds his arms. "There's twice the daily recommended amount of salt in these." "Did you even look at how much sugar is in those?"]
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[They get to the diner and Hank orders the biggest fucking burger he can. One with all the trimmings, because you can't hardly get those in the city. He has a coke with too much sugar and a donut and he's fucking starving.]
I don't care. I haven't eaten since the evac.
[He stuffs the thing in his face as soon as it's delivered with all the enthusiasm of meeting a Dagwood sized sandwich.]
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We’ll get you sober eventually. And maybe we’ll get you eating healthier, too. You do know that the name of that burger is “Death by Cow”, right? It’s in the menu as a challenge. You might win a shirt, but is it worth it?
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Look, Connor. I'm not going to cut all fatty food out of my life. Especially when it's cheap and I'm this hungry. But if you really want me to I'll box up half, save it for later.
[He'd really rather eat it hot, though.]
[He almost brings up that girl that might come over there and talk to them, but he can't bring himself to do it, because he might sound jealous, right? Right. Pffft. Jealous. Why would he be jealous? Nah. It does something between making him lose his appetite and making him want to eat more, though.]
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[He doesn’t feel like that’s getting through to him.]
If you’re going to eat it, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or later. You’ve bought it now, so enjoy it. Might as well try to get that shirt, right?
[Hey, it’s more clothes for them. The girl slides out of her seat and comes over finally, so Connor looks her way. She’s very pretty, but he still draws a blank when she presses a scrap of paper into his hand and hurries back off to her friends, slightly red. He looks down at the paper. It’s a phone number with the words “call me” underneath it. He seems confused, but pockets it.]
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She's trying to flirt with you.
[God he's trying not to sound like it bothers him, but the edge of annoyance enters his voice as he uses his napkin. He's already almost done.]
God it really had been a while since I'd last eaten.
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Would you like me to get rid of the number?
[Not that it would matter, it's locked in his memory now.]
Try to eat slower. You'll make yourself feel ill.
[He sounds genuinely concerned for him, at least. And far more interested in Hank than the girl.]
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[But then he hesitates.] Look, it's your free will to do what you want. Me telling you what to do in a non-job setting would be pretty assholish of me, after you went through all that shit to be-
[Considered a person? He holds his tongue in public, on the off chance they might be overheard. Best not to say too much.]
What you do with it is up to you.
...But if you do, don't do it in front of her. You'll give her a complex or something. [He picks up his Coke and drinks it, following Connor's advice and letting the food he's eaten settle. Small wins for Connor.]
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If I ask for your opinion, it doesn't count as you telling me what to do. I know you wouldn't do that to me.
[Anymore. He leaves that word out of that sentence.]
I'll get rid of it at home. I promise.
[And then he waits to see if Hank looks any happier.]
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[Whether it's his own catty humor or whatever, he does look more relieved. And he feels more relieved, which he doesn't want to think about. But he goes back to finishing off that burger.]
[Appetite seems to have come back.]
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We should go back to the hotel and try these on.
[He gestures to his bags of clothes.]
At least it isn't too far away.
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[He breaks off from Connor, heading back to where he can find a general store and therefore a bottle of cheap and raunchy wild turkey, a first aid kit (just in case) and some soda in small bottles so he can reuse the bottles for water when they inevitably go broke.]
[He comes back to the room, worrying about what's happening to Sumo back home. Hopefully he's alright. He left him with a lot of food, and even though he and Fowler had a falling out surely Fowler will send someone to check on him after that stunt he pulled. If Sumo is there, someone will take care of him.]
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Did you get your whiskey?
[He has two shirts laid out on the bed, and another folded neatly beside them. He's already tried that one on.]
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Uh, yeah. Got myself some bottles of soda, too. Everything's pretty cheap because the town is small. Rural places, right?
[He's obviously trying to save a little face from that idiocy. But he finds his pulse racing, and rather than looking at Connor's face, his eyes keep straying to his hips, before they wander to the bed where he decides to sit. Yep. Everything normal here.]
[Fucking... moron. He probably doesn't even have a dick, he tells himself. There's no need to look at him like he might.]
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[He notes that initial reaction though, and he can tell Hank's heart is racing. Odd. He casually steps out of his pants, and has to turn around and away from Hank briefly to find where he'd put the bag with the jeans in. Enjoy that view, Hank.]
Are you going to try on your new clothes too?
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[And then Connor asks that.]
Well I- [What, doesn't look as good as Connor? What the hell, Hank! Don't say that. Fucking asshole. Connor's already seen you looking your fucking worst.]
Right. [Is what he settles on, and sheds his coat and starts to unbutton his loud print shirt, focusing on what his fingers are doing. But it's about at his navel that he realizes that, though it's mostly hidden by loose jeans, he is working on a half chub. So he'll just do the thing of turning his back to Connor to remove his pants.
He grabbed new underwear too but he'll just wait on those. Yeah.]
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Ah.
His eyebrows raise a little, and he grabs his shirt and stands back upright again. He should have realised it, honestly. He should have figured it out sooner. He mentally kicks himself for that error. Connor, you're supposed to be a detective.
He fiddles with his shirt idly, before slipping it on. There's something else that's been bothering him, and that's the way he'd felt when Hank was being flirted with. Was it jealousy? What would he need to be jealous for? Hank isn't his. He shouldn't be feeling that way about his partner. And yet he finds that when he glances at Hank's back again, he's looking a little closer. He looks like he'd be nice to hold. Cosy. Warm.
Without really meaning to react that way, he finds himself smiling slightly. And when Hank decides to turn around again, he's still got that little smile playing on his lips. He heads over to the bed and sits down again, pulling his coin out and walking it over his fingers.]
How are you feeling?
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[He turns and there is Connor on the bed with a shit-eating grin and his coin. What the fuck did he do?]
[Hank looks around as if something might be amiss. But it's fine. And then back to Connor, to whom he just clears his throat.]
Fine right now. Just uh... It's a lot... happening at once. You know. Pretty fucked up. [He can't really discount that he just noticed his partner is pretty, on top of every other weird damn thing.]
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[He softens the smile slightly, and gives Hank an earnest look.]
Are you tired? Maybe a nap would do you some good. I can keep watch.
[He finds himself wondering what would make Hank's pulse race again. How much can he get away with? He quite likes the attention when it's from Hank. Of course he needs to think about the implications of that, but he can do that while Hank sleeps, whenever he does.
For now, he leans back against the bed slightly, propping himself up with one hand and rolling the coin across his fingers. Still smiling ever so slightly.]
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I mean, it doesn't have to be in the bed. It could be the chair.
[Yup. Making this awkward. Hank is tired, though. He's had a fucky last couple of days, a fistfight with a fed, a gun held to his head, and saw a revolution happen.]
[Honestly he thinks he might actually be dead but he's not sure.]
[In any case, he gets in bed, picking a side for his. He pulls the blankets over him because it's cold enough for that.]
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[He moves the extra clothes off his side of the bed and slips in under the sheets with Hank. The bed isn't that big, so he's pressed against him a little. He doesn't try to move away, he just scans Hank again for a reaction.]
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Yeah, just do that.
[Hank says it earnestly, but this body is betraying him.]
The bed's kind of small so uh... if you want me to give you space or, you know. I'm fine. I just uh...
[You know what, Hank Anderson? Shut the fuck up.]
[The reaction is there, though. He's still in his jeans for the nap, but between a heightened pulse, some color changing in his cheeks, and increased blood flow to conspicuous areas, he can't really deny the reactions to a man with senses as accurate as Connor's.]
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I shouldn't have gotten dressed for this. I'm going to wrinkle my new shirt.
[He doesn't go as far as actually taking it off, though. He just enjoys the reactions he's getting out of Hank. This is actually pretty fun.]
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[He shifts, pulling Connor so that his head is resting on his shoulder and his arm is around his back.]
Good. We'll be messy together.
[And he needs to shut up his brain before that wanders off to worse places. Though from here, Connor can probably get an even better earful of Hank's heart.]
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How long do you want to sleep? I'll set myself to wake at the appropriate time.
[He starts fiddling with one of the buttons on Hank's shirt while he talks.]
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