Chapter Text
The Lieutenant let out a loud sigh as he stepped out of his car. Snow had finally settled in for the holidays and the entire neighbourhood was covered by a thick white blanket. He walked to his door as fast as he possibly could without slipping. Opening the door, he found himself attacked not only by the warmth as he’d hoped but also by lights, music and the smell of something cooking.
A burst of wind brought Hank back to his senses, making him close the door hastily. He shoved off his coat and shoes before heading inside.
In the kitchen, Connor was humming to whatever Christmas trash was airing on the radio. He was wearing an apron Hank hadn’t seen in years, sleeves of his shirt rolled up probably in an attempt to avoid any stains. Not having been programmed to accomplish domestic tasks, Connor trying to cook could very easily leave the space looking like an abandoned battlefield. It reminded Hank of Cole trying to cook breakfast for them on Sundays.
Today though, it seemed like he’d put a significant effort into the task. The room looked clean, the table was set and a few dishes were already sitting on it. A fresh bottle of beer was even waiting near Hank’s seat.
“So, what part of we’re not doing anything special tonight did you not understand?” He chuckled at the slight startle his words caused the android.
Connor turned around and gave a bright smile, not looking one bit remorseful when he answered “Well this is my first Christmas, I thought it’d be nice to have some sort of celebration. Plus it won’t hurt you to have an actual meal instead of ordering in. Again.”
Hank just grumbled under his breath as he went to take his place at the table. It was his first proper Christmas in a long time but he had to admit that it was nice. It’d certainly feel that way tomorrow when he’d wake up without a hungover making him want to put a bullet through his brain. He knew there was no way Connor would have bought enough alcohol for him to reach such a state.
Looking at the different dishes, Hank wondered how long Connor had spent in the kitchen that day. He hadn’t left the house for more than five or six hours, it was a wonder the android had managed to cook enough for a small army in so little time, especially considering the abysmal state of their fridge.
Seeing that Connor was still buzzing around the stove, Hank grabbed his bear and headed back to the living room. Walking past the turntable, he realised that the music wasn’t coming from the radio but instead from a disc that Connor had definitely bought because Hank was one hundred per cent certain that this shitty music wasn’t from his collection.
In the corner, opposite Sumo’s bed was their tiny tree. Hank had tried to refuse but he’d been helpless against the look of kicked puppy the android had given him. Despite what he looked like, Connor could really act like a child sometimes, especially concerning experiences he’d been denied as a deviant.
Reaching into his pocket, Hank pulled out a small box that he put next to the other presents. He’d started carrying it with him not long after Connor had moved in but couldn’t bring himself to give it to him. Tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so.
Returning to the kitchen, he saw Connor had taken off the apron. He was perched against his chair, hands gripping the back of it. “Dinner’s ready,” he said with a shy smile. It was clear that he felt equally proud of his accomplishment and nervous concerning Hank’s judgment.
Sensing the other’s uneasiness, Hank exclaimed, a little louder than strictly necessary, “Well I hope this is good because I’m starving. And I’m not helping you clean up the mess if you end up food poisoning me.” Connor followed the lead and sat down.
Dinner went relatively well, each helping themselves in way more food that could be considered reasonable. Hank had a second beer despite the stern look Connor threw his way. The food, despite Hank’s expectations, tasted way better than what he’d expected; he didn’t say anything, but it was evident, given Connor’s smug smile that he fully knew he’d reached his goal. Even after deviating, it always brought him an intense feeling of satisfaction to accomplish his mission, however small or trivial it may be.
As Connor got up to serve each of them a piece of the homemade pecan pie, Sumo seized the opportunity to snoop around the kitchen and look for a piece of food that would have inadvertently been left unattended. Used to his antics, Hank lost no time in reprimanding him “Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can beg for food. I swear to God I’ve adopted a vacuum, not a dog.”
“What do you mean birthday? I thought Sumo was born in April.” Connor replied without really thinking about it. The lack of response didn’t register until he turned around and saw Hank starting at the dog with a distant, almost absent look. Not wanting to scare him out of his thoughts, Connor approached him quietly before putting the plates on the table. Despite his best effort, the ceramic clinked against the hard surface of the table. Hank’s attention snapped back to reality. He stood up, grabbed his plate and walked to the living room, silently inciting Connor to follow him. Before crossing the threshold, he turned his head just enough to see Connor.
“I know you have a bottle of something harder than beer hidden somewhere. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on ending up under the table but one glass would be nice.”
Since moving in, Connor had been very strict concerning Hank’s alcohol consumption but the sudden gloom that had transpired in those last few minutes kept him from chastising the Lieutenant. He rummaged through Sumo’s drawer before retrieving a bottle of whisky and poured two glasses before walking to the other room.
He sat down next to Hank who was absentmindedly petting Sumo’s head lying in his lap. Hank raised a brow as he noticed the second glass in Connor’s hand but didn’t say anything about it. If the android wanted to get drunk, if that was even possible, he sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to stop him. He’d take whatever possibility offered to him to take revenge on that one very cold, and very unexpected shower.
Still running his hand through his dog’s coat, Hank found himself answering without really meaning to. “We got Sumo for Cole’s second Christmas. He was less than a year old but I swear he was already so fucking big Cole thought he got him a pony. Anyways, after that, he insisted we celebrate Sumo’s birthday on the day he joined the family.”
Connor tried to hide his surprise but did a poor job of it. Hank very seldom talked about his son. The last time he did was at the CyberLife tower. Unlike last time though, his voice wasn’t laced with pain and sorrow. It was full of fondness and that very peculiar tone that overflows whenever one talked of a passed loved one.
For the first time in years, Hank talked about his son. Not the accident or the pain but the child he’d raised and loved. With a chuckle, he continued, “I remember when he was around four, he decided he’d be a knight when he’d grown up. He’d ride Sumo’s back in the backyard and hit anyone who dared approach them with his sword.
“He knew Sumo wasn’t allowed on his bed so he’d always try to sneak him in after his bedtime. Like we wouldn’t notice a dog missing from the living room. After Cole passed and I closed his bedroom, Sumo would still sit in front of the door every night, waiting for him.”
“Is that why he’d often whine in front of your bedroom door when I moved in?” Connor asked. His tone was light and encouraging. Even though he was still struggling with the concept of emotions, he knew Hank sharing this was a new step in their relationship. A sign of trust. He knew humans, much like androids, rarely let themselves seen as vulnerable. Doing so voluntarily mostly happened with loved ones, with family.
“Yeah, he stopped doing it after a while but never really liked sleeping alone. Which is probably why he sleeps on you when you lie down on the couch at night.” With that, Hank chugged his whiskey before putting the glass back on the table and giving a half smile to Connor. “Alright, the time for oversharing is over. Let’s open the presents, we’re both adults so there’s no fucking way I’m waiting for Santa.”
With a chuckle, Connor got up and put the three boxes that were under the tree on the table. He then turned around and walked to the corner of the room before picking up a larger object from behind the chair.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d close your eyes. I did my best to wrap this and but still had to hide it to keep it a surprise.”
Hank sighed before doing as told but not without complaining about Connor being an actual child sometimes. After a few seconds, he felt something put on his lap and snapped his eyes open. It was a guitar case, the weight of it clearly indicating that an instrument was inside. After taking a quick look at Connor’s nervous face, he reached for the fastening of the case. He slowly snapped them open before taking a breath and lifting the lid.
Inside of it laid an old Martin guitar. It looked beautiful despite the light scratches that spotted it in a few places. Hank couldn’t stop staring and very lightly caressed the markings like one would a lover’s body. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had gifted him something, let alone something that brought him so much joy. The warmth of dark wood only echoed the feeling filling his heart.
“It’s mahogany,” blurted out Connor. He’d ben watching Hank like a hawk for close to a minute now and couldn’t take the deafening silence any longer. “I know it’s old, and not in the best condition,” his stress level was through the roof and he couldn’t stop talking to try and let some of his anxiety escape, “I’m sorry Hank. I wish I could have afforded a new one. But I walked passed that pawn shopped, and it looked so nice. It looked so like-“
Connor stopped as he felt a hand ruffle his hair. Hank’s eyes were shining when he spoke. “Stop stressing out kid. I love it.” His voice sounded much more hoarse than usual.
At that, Connor felt himself sag against the couch in relief. This gift meant a lot to him. He’d try very hard to find a way to show Hank how much he appreciated what he’d done for him. Encouraging him to deviate, helping him finding Jericho, taking him into his home, making him feel like he belonged. Even after awakening, Connor never felt like he deserved to stay amongst the other deviants. He’d caused so much pain trying to accomplish his mission, he’d always feel guilty surrounded by all the others.
“Come on, open yours,” Hank gently encouraged him.
Connor reached for the smaller box first but was stopped. “Open the other one first.”
Obeying, he picked up the larger package. The wrapping was less than perfect, clearly done by Hank himself but Connor found it endearing. A smile appeared on his face picturing the Lieutenant trying his best to make it look presentable. It was soft and fairly light. He could have scanned it, tried to deduce what was inside but he wanted the surprise.
Connor started unwrapping the gift very methodically. He wouldn’t tear the paper apart. To him, it held as much meaning as what was inside. Once it was unfolded, he could finally see a black jumper. It’d been folded to put on display the white writing on it “Merry Fucking Christmas”. Connor couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat. He promptly put it one, loving the feeling of the soft material against his skin.
“Couldn’t really let you have your first Christmas without an ugly sweater now, could I?”
“I’m sure some people might find it offending but I don’t think it’s ugly. I really like it.”
At that, Hank rubbed his eyes. As smart as androids could be, they still remained clueless concerning a lot of human habits and dumb tradition. “No Connor it’s - you know what, never mind. I’m glad you like it.”
As the android reached for the smaller gift, Hank found himself wishing he still had some of that whisky left. The box was black, small and couldn’t contain much in it. The perfect way to store what was hiding inside.
Popping the box open, Connor picked up the object that was hidden inside. The key was a small, unmarked, betraying no clue to what it could possibly open. Confused by the meaning of the gift, he tried to scan it but the only thing that came out of it were the fingerprints of the man sitting next to him.
“Hank, what’s this?” Connor was still staring at it, a look of concentration and intrigue on his face.
“The key to Cole’s old room.”
Connor looked up, a small gasp escaping his lips. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to find something to say, but it seemed that no other noise could leave his mouth.
“You live here, and I’m sure that as much as you enjoy Sumo’s company you’d like to have some privacy. I figured we could clean it together so you’d be able to move in it.”
Connor felt his throat tighten. His eyes started to burn as did his nose. Instinctively he blinked several times in succession, trying to get rid of the tingling. If he hadn’t been submerged by the wave of sensations that submerged him, he would have realised what was happening. It was only when he tasted the saltiness on his lips that he identified the feeling. He was crying. The overwhelming emotions found a way to express itself without him even realising it.
Understanding the need to hide such a state of vulnerability, Connor reached out to the man he knew would always be home to him. His partner, his friend, his father. Hiding his face in the other’s shoulder, he whispered a soft thank you.
Hank held him back.