Good morning, this is your friendly daily reminder that Hank will never truly believe he deserves to have Connor in his life because he’s a washed-up depressed old alcoholic and he knows Connor can do better
He loves Connor, he honestly, truly does, and he happier than he ever thought was possible having him in his life, but he just... doesn’t understand what Connor sees in him. Every time Connor tells him he loves him, some part of him doubts it.
It’s not that he believes Connor is lying to him. He knows Connor means it. But Connor is still so new to the world; he’s barely seen anything or met anyone. It’s only a matter of time before he meets someone younger or more stable or more handsome or without Hank’s baggage.
It’s the one biggest issue in their relationship, the thing they fight about more often than anything Connor will get angry and sad and yell, asking why Hank can’t /believe/ he might as well be the only person in the world for all the interest Connor has in dating other people.
And Hank just sits there, unable to explain how he’s so sure that practically anyone would be better suited for Connor. Anyone else would do better by Connor. Anyone else would give him all the things he deserves and love him so much better than Hank could.
• • •
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Happy Valentines Day, TJ! Have a horror Hankcon thread!
CW for body horror, descriptions of torture, blood, the implication of the aforementioned bad things happening to small children
Something wanders out of the plains of rusting metal and wire, a tiny spot in the distance slowly growing closer. Hank slows to a stop and has to watch it for several long minutes before he's sure it’s a person. It’s been so long that Hank thought he might be hallucinating.
Hank regards the approaching man warily. He’s naked, as is Hank—but his body is lean and healthy, his hair neatly groomed and his skin devoid of any blemishes or scars. He doesn’t look sick or injured or malformed in any way.
Sad thought of the day: What If Hank and Connor plan to transition Hank’s mind into an android body at the end of his life, but Hank dies in a sudden, unexpected way before they can upload his consciousness or even scan his brain to make a backup copy
(I know I already had a sad thread today but shhhhh let me have this, ok)
They hear about the technology years in advance and are practically the first ones to sign up for information about advancements and future trials. The tech to transfer minds is projected to be completed well within Hank’s lifetime, so they think they have time
More than anything, Connor wants to interface with Hank. He wants it with an aching longing that consumes him. He wants to know the shape of Hank’s mind, he wants Hank’s thoughts echoing in his head. He wants to share Hank’s joy and Hank’s grief as if Hank’s feelings were his own
It tears him apart to think this is something they’ll never be able to give each other. Every time Connor spots a pair of androids interfacing, it’s like a stab in the chest. It’s such an easy, casual way to exchange information.
But it’s also such an intimate act that Connor wants it more than anything else in the world.
There are so many beautiful aspects of Hank’s humanity that Connor adores. He adores the warmth and the softness of Hank’s body.
(y’all remember that “hank has alzheimer’s” thread I did not too long ago? Let’s do something along those lines but a littler happier this time)
Connor opens the front door as gently as he can, listening for the sounds of Hank from within the house.
This time of day, Hank might be napping and Connor doesn’t want to wake him. Even though the longing to be with Hank at every moment of the day thrums in him like a constant ache, Hank’s rest is more important to him.
He’s almost always listening for sounds of Hank when he’s home. Whenever he has to be apart from Hank or whenever Hank is asleep, Connor turns up his audio processing to catch every soft breath, every quiet heartbeat.
AU where Cyberlife ran Connor’s AI through millions of simulated deviant-hunting exercises in order to teach him to do his job efficiently, but really all they taught him were the best ways to cheat the system, so when Connor gets released, he keeps trying to speedrun real life.
Hank: Fine, fine, I’ll go to the stupid homicide.
Connor: Excellent. *takes Hank’s glass and catches a fly under it. Releases the fly, captures it again*
Hank: What the fuck are you doing.
Connor: By rewriting the values of these items, I can wrongwarp us to the crime scene.
Connor: May I drive us to our destination, Lieutenant? I can get us there three times faster than you can.
Hank: Oh yeah? Howso?
Connor: Through the use of underutilized routes. Driving over rooftops does not incur a penalty.
Hank: HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA GET A CAR ON THE ROO
“—my hope that we as a people can continue to share this planet with humankind as allies and as brothers.”
Connor claps along with the rest of the androids standing behind Markus, as well as the immense crowd gathered in Hart Plaza. Markus’s speeches are always so stirring.
Behind them, the new monument commemorating the 30th anniversary of the Android Rights Act of 2039–the bill that granted androids legal personhood—stands tall in the evening light.
A tall statue of two skinless androids, one rising from a kneeling position, the other helping the first up. Connor has heard through the grapevine that the standing android was depicted as a human in the preliminary drafts of the monument.