Thread by @FastHankconSmut

Here ya go, @darkbluebetty
I’ll try to make this fast

And readable...

“And...and go where?”

“Florida I guess? Isn’t that where you go to die?”

Hank refrained from turning that into a joke, but he still fully expected Connor to get his feathers ruffled.

Instead, the living room went quiet outside of the tv

playing in the background, and Hank turned himself away from petting Sumo to look at him curiously.

Connor’s temple was red, which he kind of anticipated seeing as how close they’d become. But the look he was giving Hank was...upsetting.

He couldn’t recall a time Connor had ever looked like that about...anything.

Hank looked him over and saw the way his hands were clenching up, making fists at his sides.

“Oh.” He finally said, though it didn’t sound angry. Kind of weird since he looked ready to punch something.

They stayed like that with Hank sitting patiently on the couch for Connor to say more.

Sumo licked at his hand as the crowd on screen cheered and roared at their teams.

But Connor was without his voice.

He was without any sense of direction. He didn’t know what to say.

What to think. What to feel.

His light blared red in the dim room and probably would forever- so long as the muse who inspired all those things would be gone from his life.

That’s what Hank was telling him, right? That he was going away, now? Forever?

“I’ll call and shit...You can come visit me, ya know.”

Hank was very careful what to say. He felt like he was watching the first sea of grief he’d ever had to witness Connor wade through, and quite honestly, Hank couldn’t decide where the intensity was coming from.

He knew Connor would miss him, and he’d miss Connor. More than *anything* or *anyone* here- but why stay?

He could finally get those sweet sun rays he’d been missing since he’d left Georgia with his first wife.

It’d be hotter, of course, but he did like the idea of the coast. Why not retire in peace?

“Sumo will have a hell of a time getting used to the heat...” He muttered to himself.

A place with air conditioning would be a *must*.

“But, yeah you can visit us anytime, Connor-“

“Sumo is...going with you?”

Hank would normally say something snarky to that, but the catch in his voice...

The look in his eyes...

“Yeah, I mean...he’s my dog.”

Connor snagged his lip between his teeth, and chewed.

“Uh...is something wrong with that?”

Connor stood quietly, eyes fixed on the floor.

Hank wasn’t an overly patient man, but he was almost afraid to see this continue. What was he supposed to say when he had no idea what was wrong.

He could guess, of course, but...

“Are you scared of doing this whole deviancy thing alone?”

Connor slowly looked up at him.

“‘Cause you don’t need me to show you how it’s done, anymore. You’ve got this, Connor.”

“I...that’s not...”

“Is it because I’m your only friend, then?”

Hank hated how presumptuous that sounded, and he hadn’t wanted to say it, but Connor didn’t put much stock in other people.

It wasn’t like Hank was special- he was just familiar.

He was there when Connor gained his deviancy and he was there to throw him all the life lines he

needed. Hank was safe, *but* Connor could do more.

He didn’t have anything to fear with a face like that, he’d find friends.

“You’ll make more, trust me.”

Hank turned back to scratch Sumo’s ear. Judging by the quiet again, that hadn’t quite hit the nail on the head.

But this was Connor- if he decided not to tell Hank, he’d likely never guess right. Connor could be a wild card at times, surprising him with any number of things from being pretty good at playing pokerface to collecting colorful, fuzzy dice.

Weird, indecipherable, Connor.

It was better to just walk on the side of caution and drop the subject for now.

That eventually turned in to muted conversations and Connor avoiding helping him pack. Hank didn’t need him for either, but he wouldn’t pretend it didn’t bother him. Was he mad at him?

The pinch in his stomach made him think so. Hank couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how unexpected it was, that Connor was mad at him...

He couldn’t stay away forever, though, as evident by the way he rushed over the morning of Hank’s departure.

He used his spare key and walked in with a face more devoid of any trace of Connor than the machine he’d been when they’d first met. This Connor was a shell.

Even as he dropped to his knees and held Sumo around his neck a few seconds longer than the lumbering giant

was used to, there was no hint of a smile or scowl. He just let his eyes slip shut and grabbed handfuls of Sumo’s fur in silence.

When he could finally tear himself away, there was nothing waiting for Hank. Connor looked just a fraction away from his eyes, standing stiff, and

keeping his hands to himself.

Hank didn’t ask for anything, either, because he knew whatever was happening to the balance in Connor’s life, he was to blame. And he could no more ask for the same kindness in a goodbye, than he could ask Connor to come.

-If only to calm him-

Connor belonged here where his new life should be. With people he had a chance of knowing beyond his desire to be a loner at times. Like Hank.

When Hank finally took the ride to the airport, he made peace with the fact that Connor would still be here to call. Maybe even visit.

The curt nod and miserable look in his eyes wouldn’t be forever, and Hank would just be the intro to a book with many chapters in Connor’s life.

It took some time to adjust to the heat, as he’d imagined, but it was how Hank figured it be.

Quiet, warm mornings, with the threat of another fucking sink hole opening up somewhere in someone’s lawn on the news.

Orange skies in the evening that made the bay look like it was full of sparkling gold and jewels when the light hit it just right.

Half moons over palm trees with Sumo’s Head in his lap in their back yard, lounging on a chair with a blanket.

Lots of living things singing in the heat all through the night.

It was actually more relaxing than he imagined, though. He thought he’d be more compelled to do something life threatening, like those poor cops handling the rampant spring breakers.

He never did, though, which surprised him. He didn’t feel like he had to be anywhere that had

a high probability of making him a heavy drinker and self destructive hermit. He felt like he could be ok with himself if he was just happy for once.

It was hard to imagine, but Hank slowly began to feel like he deserved this- especially after everything he’d left in Detroit.

Insane android homicides, a fucking revolution, frigid weather that made your lungs burn.

Connor.

The first few calls Hank made went unanswered. And it hurt. It was like an ache at first, but the third week of radio silence started to stab at him.

He hadn’t left on great terms, and he realized he probably hadn’t handled that first conversation about it too well.

He started to think that he should have told Connor. It was so sudden, and yeah- it was *his* life. He could do what he wanted.

But...

Connor deserved more.

Why hadn’t he hugged him goodbye? Hank had never seen Connor pout, and more importantly, he knew Connor wasn’t the type to.

He said whatever was in his mind and what he felt about it- which was how they had chosen to navigate his deviancy.

But, he hadn’t when Hank said he was moving.

There was a lot of silence, a lot of tension, and a lot of Connor saying absolutely nothing.

They were best friends, wasn’t there something there to say?

Hank didn’t hear from him after another week, and he was becoming unsettled.

The idea of retiring in peace became suddenly very forgein. When had he ever been at peace here, and how did he manage it? How did he manage to be so happy for all this time when the person he cared about most was practically fading from his life?

Was he already gone?

“What d’ya think, Sumo? Would it be the worst thing in the world to visit so soon?” He’d only been gone for two months.

Just two.

That did absolutely nothing to keep him from buying plane tickets.

Hank had 3 hours to think of an apology and figure out how he’d fix this.

He’d sit them down at Connor’s place, after he’d invited himself over, and watch their favorite movie together.

He’d walk with him and Sumo at ass-crack hours that he’d rather be sleeping through, becasue Connor loved late night strolls with the big dog.

He’d swear for the entire time he was visitng that he’d eat Connor’s bland, but healthy, cooking, and stick to daiquiris if he must.

And he would say he was sorry, and hug him. Surely Connor had wanted to before and just...hadn’t.

That’d all be bridge under the water soon. They’d gotten through so much worse, hadn’t they?

It made him pale to think about, but there was a time when he would have pulled a gun on him and called him plastic.

It was a violent, unwelcome memory, but it was reality.

Thankfully, they’d moved past that. It would be the same with this.

He’d apologize for not making this as big of a deal as it was, and for not involving Connor in it.

He waited outside Connor’s apartment with his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

It was colder than he was used to now, but he’d wait as long as he needed to.

He took Sumo on a walk in front of his apartment while he waited. He was getting impatient and was ready for breakfast time.

Hank would try calling Connor, but that hadn’t worked in a long time now.

He did still live here, right?

He was about to pack Sumo up and take him back to the motel to get comfortable again while Hank went out, but he finally caught a break.

The girl who lived a few rooms down from Connor came out to leave for work.

Hank was able to stop her and ask if she knew who Connor was and where he’d be.

She definitely knew him. A few androids had been keeping tabs on him and coming around pretty regularly to their apartment. She knew Connor was nice, but she explained he had been the subject of

concern from this group of androids for some reason.

And lastly, that he had moved.

Hank could guess who those androids were, as there was only a few other people Connor involved himself with, but he’d never have guessed where he had moved to in a million years.

Or *why*.

Connor had never lived far away from him to begin with, but Hank hit the pedal all the way to 115 Michigan Drive, and made it in -probably insanely dangerous- record time.

It was exactly how he’d left it, and that was no doubt thanks to Connor.

Who else was keeping snow off the driveway, and the porch light on.

Hank wasn’t prone to them, but he was pretty sure he was experiencing an anxiety attack as he walked up the few steps to the front door.

Nothing about this was familiar.

Nothing about him being here felt right, exactly, and he couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t feel like he belonged here.

Like he was trespassing at his own house.

He was starting to get an idea of why Connor had stopped answering him.

There was a moment where he hesitated to knock and thought about turning around right there. Stealing the rental and driving it all the way back to Florida where he could sit and wonder to the death of him what was going on with Connor.

And that was the only thing convincing him to go though with it.

He’d never have peace of mind again
if he didn’t see that goofy face and hear that goofy voice tel him what the fuck was happening to them.

He thought everything would make sense the moment he did. If he could just see Connor with that coin in his hand and those curls flopping to the side, everything would come clear.

Instead, he felt like he didn’t know himself anymore, and like he didn’t know Connor.

When the door opened, he felt like they were strangers, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him.

“Hank...”

Hank stared into deep, brown lenses that scattered and searched over he of in his face, as if they couldn’t see enough of him- as if Connor was judging if he was real.

“You’re here...” His voice had an unmistakable glitch in it.

It made him that much more unrecognizable. But it *was* him.

His button up was rolled to the elbows and hanging untucked, and there was a sort of tiredness in the sloppiness of it. Like he couldn’t be bothered.

Like it didn’t matter.

Hank wouldn’t normally go so far over some attire, but outside of the pristine image Connor always kept, there was the matter of the yellow ring at his forehead and way he hung his head.

His eyes were wide and unbelieving while he drank him in, and Hank stood firm under his gaze

The first thing that kept running through his mind was to ask why Connor was here.

He wanted to know why he was living in Hank’s old house with it’s annoying, old tiles that were starting to peel at the corners and counters that were chipping. It wasn’t shit, or else it

wouldn’t have sold. But why was *Connor* here.

Why was he living in *this* when he could have anywhere else on the planet? He could buy land someplace west if he really wanted, but *why* *this*.

None of that is what Hank said, though.

“I’ve been calling you.” He swallowed painfully, and Connor suddenly looked very aware of their situation.

“I’ve been calling you for *weeks*, and you never answered.”

Connor’s mouth hung open. He knew why he hadn’t answered and why he never would have, but now Hank was here,

and he couldn’t stay hidden forever.

He could try, and probably would, but why bother when Hank was going to go right back to Florida, anyway. He could indulge him, and go back to living in hiding from all of his feelings in a place that could handle them.

The only place he’d ever felt safe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hank felt like the biggest hypocritical asshole for demanding Connor tell him all of his decsisions when he hadn’t even involved Connor in the most important one.

Why should he tell Hank anything?

How was that fair?

Just because Hank was scared something horrible was coasting beneath the surface of something as trivial as a pouting android, didn’t mean he should be allowed to go digging.

Connor could keep his secrets like Hank had.

But then the other shrugged- his face twisting into something like sorrow, and exhaustion, and anger, but it wasn’t at Hank.

It wasn’t Hank stirring these awful things, not in the way he deserved it to be, and inside of his chest suddenly felt colder than his boots in the snow.

“I couldn’t.” He glitched out, and had to attempt to say it again. It came out better the second time, but hurt no less for Hank to hear.

“Why? I don’t understand...”

He was a shit owner for leaving Sumo in the car right now with only the heat on to warm him,

but Hank couldn’t think of a single thing else that wasn’t Connor.

He should have showed some control, the kind he’d had through all of Perkin’s insults and Gavin’s taunting, but he had nothing to keep him from moving forward.

“I don’t understand any of this.”

He gestured to the house, and the way Connor now looked, and the space between them. Literally everything was beyond his reach in that moment, and Connor seemed to be keeping the key from him- but again, not the way he could imagine.

Connor simply couldn’t tell him, because....

He shrugged again, his head hanging in defeat.

*Hank would just go back to Florida*

“I just want you to be happy.” Connor sounded near to collapsing. Something breaking inside him.

Hank had forgotten how frequently it snowed here. In only two months, he’d forgotten about defrosting windshields, and driving on ice, but he’d never forgotten how happy he was here.

“This is what it takes for *me* to be happy. I figured it out a while ago but...it didn’t work out.”

Flakes were starting to dust Hank’s shoulders and cover the ground. It was a light snow with a bitter cold, and Hank had forgotten how quickly cold like this stung.

“This is as close as I’ll get.” Connor’s voice faded in a way Hank had never heard it before.

If he’d ever wanted proof that androids could know pain, he’d remember the way Connor broke in early June under a few hard words.

They were out there now, whether Hank knew what they meant or not. Connor didn’t have to pretend he could be past this, anymore, and could be happy enough knowing he was as close to Hank and a home as he’d ever be.

He’d keep the place clean and the dust from settling, and forget

to charge himself every couple of days in favor of enjoying the comfort of Hank’s house just a little longer.

“Connor.” Hank found his voice nearly too late, as he was well past making sense of this on a grander scheme.

Yet, the disjointed, cryptic words touched base with something he’d never given thought to, and yet, had somehow wormed its way into the back of his brain.

Somewhere deep.

“Connor...you don’t need *me* to be happy.” He took a step forward.

“You’re your own man... you can do this without me...”

Hank reached out, anticipating that hug where he could hold the other close to him again.

“You have to let go of what’s ‘safe’.”

His fingers came just short of brushing Connor’s arm. Looking for a welcome first.

“I know it’s scary, but living like this is worse.”

Connor drew himself back through the door, readying to close the gates on Hank’s house forever.

Connor didn’t belong there.

Not alone.

“I’m sorry, Hank, but I can’t. I need to be here- where I’m still...with you. I’m sorry.”

He looked at the older man pleadingly. It was never about being afraid to make friends, or exploring new feelings. Not even remotely.

“I couldn’t talk to you like *this*. I knew you would worry.”

Hank could barely get a breath in between the strange pain in his chest and the freezing air filling his lungs.

Had this been here in front of him the whole time and he’d just never noticed?

“I’ll take care of myself.” Connor lied.
“But, I’d like to do it in my own way. It was good to see you.”

“Come with me.”

The air was charged with something as Hank held his breath. Connor looked startled, but that didn’t cover the half of it.

“Come with me.” Hank said again before Connor could consider it.

He looked stunned, then wary- as if Hank didn’t know what he was saying. That he wouldn’t mean it if he did.

“I don’t know what I’m thinking here, Connor...but I’m thinking I’ve gotten this all wrong, somehow.”

He held his arms open in a way that left no room for subtlety, throwing himself on a line.

“Come here.” He said, again, so soundly, and Connor slowly relinquished his hold on the door.

He looked so tired, and the look of caution in his eye mirrored many ‘sleepless’ nights.

He shuffled forward, until Hank was able to get an arm around his shoulders and pull him near, slotting them together, though careful not to pull too hard. He wanted Connor to have some kind of control here,

as he’d come to realize he was seeing Connor in the most rawest form he’d ever seen him. Connor was talking to him, and while Hank was cursing himself for not hearing him sooner, he was listening *now*.

“You think you need me to be happy, do ya?”

“‘More than I knew...”

More than Hank knew, that was for sure.

“I want you to be happy, too. If you want to be ‘safe’ and do what’s ‘comfortable’, you deserve that. And if you never want to talk to another living thing again, *fine*.”

Hank squeezed a little harder.

“You don’t have to. I wasn’t saying those things to scare you, Connor. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do with your life. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me.”

Connor let himself be pulled in a little further.

“I’m sorry you thought you had to be alone for me to be happy, but I wasn’t. I *missed* you.”

His hand idly stroked the top of Connor’s ‘spine’.

“When you didn’t answer my calls, I was fuckin’ miserable.”

He was miserable since that shitty ‘goodbye’, but he had had no idea

how bad it could really get.

Connor grew stiff beneath him, hands fisting in the back of Hank’s coat. He could tell him everything now, and ruin his chance to be with the only man who had his heart ever again.

Or, he could keep it a secret, and Hank could up and leave again one day without telling Connor a thing. Just as before.

There was no way to win this, and Hank, would ultimately go back to Florida, with orcwithout Connor.

Maybe he shouldn’t tell him.

Maybe Connor was supposed to stay here with the hollow of Hank’s home.

“I love you!”

His voice glitched piercingly, and he would need to try again if Hank was ever to hear what he had said.

Hands tightened around him, and one weaved through the dark locks at the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“*Holy shit*” Hank breathed, as he’d definitely heard him.

“Holy *shit*” he said again.

He suddenly pulled away from him and held Connor out by his shoulders.

He looked up at Hank like he didn’t know where that had come from, mouth open with eyes seeing straight through him.

“For how long?”

“I don’t...since September....”

“*Of last year*?”

Connor looked confused and troubled at the same time, but he nodded ‘yes’.

“Connor...*fuck*. When I told you I was leaving....”

All Connor could manage was a weak little nod that he was listening, overcome with the things spilling from him he’d been trying

so hard to keep under lock and key for little more than a year now.

Hank was overcome, too, but by something else entirely.

“Come here.” He didn’t wait for Connor to move with him, thrusting him against his chest and keeping him there. Connor let himself be held,

feeling the specks of snow fall from Hank’s hair and melt on his face. His sensors told him it was cold.

Hank must be freezing, then....

His body stuffed into the grooves of the man above him, until Connor looked much smaller than he actually was, and his core slowly heating up

to provide Hank some warmth could be used to pour all the unspoken things he’d wanted to say and do into keeping Hank warm.

It paled in comparison, but keeping Hank’s house full of life and the memory of a man many states away had exhausted him.

“*Fuck*, Connor. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I went about everything the wrong way-“

“Shit, like I’ve ever been better.”

Hank focused on that hug he’d been waiting for that was so much more amazing than he’d ever imagined it to be.

“Can I still come with you?”

“Baby, *of course* you can. Why would I change my mind?”

Hank thought he would have to be fucking mad to. How could he still be worrying about that?

“I...even though I told you I love you?”

“Connor, *yes*.”
“We need to have a talk about this. But first, pack your bags.”

——-

“Are you concerned about the sharks some of the neighbors have in their back yards?”

“Not as worried as their back yards sliding off into the ocean.”

“Hank.”

“I think the guy across from us is an alligator. Or maybe that’s his pet.”

“*Hank*.”

“Go stand next to the party girls over there, I’ll take your picture.”

“Hank, I look I’m 30. Not 18...do they come here every summer?”

“Oh yeah, Miami is lit.”

“*Watch it*.”

“Go on. Let me get your picture with the spring breakers.”

“They’re all wearing neon zebra print.”

“Flash your thong if you wanna fit in.”

“HNNNK. Do *not* get us kicked off of the docks.”

“Baby, don’t get all huffy.”

“Hank, I swear-“

Hank taking Connor from the front, legs thrown over his broad shoulders and kissing him up and down and out of his mind with warm evening weather sex that’s so good, Connor has left his body by the time he climaxes.

“There you are, Baby. Let go all over my cock.”

Wow....what did I do here tonight.

I literally had the best mental meltdowns of all time reading all of your comments. I almost killed Mangolioncat, apparently, which is something.

You guys are fucking great, all of you.

I can’t believe how many of you people I’ve been too afraid to talk to are liking my thing and talking to me.

I wish I wasn’t such a chicken on my main account- this is fucking eye opening....