Thread by @FastHankconSmut

🖤💖I bring myself angst on Valentine’s Day💖🖤

💕Hank1700

✨Connor having thoughts of viscous, demeaning sex to escape his crushing loneliness, Fluff, Neediness, Wallowing, Very cliche, Happy ending

💕Bottom Connor

While he doesn’t know how it amounted to this, Connor remembers where it started.

////////////://::::
There‘s the appeal of Nines’ model- his efficiency and build. The fact that he’s an inch taller and sculpted with a thicker waist. It tapers down, not that Connor’s been looking

too hard. But, it’s unlike his own, which makes a soft slope from his ribs to his hips. He looks less muscled there than Nines, too, though it’s subtle.

Then, there’s his infamous stoicism. It should be a turn off, but all it does is draw Connor in, while unsettling others.

Most people wouldn’t notice every difference between them, excluding that extra inch Nines is stacking. There’s a shroud of mystery Nines cloaks himself in only few either have the equipment to look past, such as Connor, an android, or the privilege to be shown.

Like Nines’ partner. His *romantic* partner.

Connor has made note of every detail that stands between them and has been forced to give more thought to the peculiar way each and every feature makes him feel... ‘smaller’ more often than he’d like. Not in a particularly bad way.

It’s hard to explain, Connor just feels like he’s so much...less.

At the worst of times, it humiliates him to be so inadequate. At the best, that familiar curl of shame in his belly unfurls and makes him burn in an absolutely delicious way. Smaller, indeed. He likes it.

The plus side is at least it makes it easier to keep things physical- to avoid scripting more between them then there could ever be and avoid waddling in his loneliness. He can keep his interests purely sexual, and a taste for something rougher. When he imagines Nines as

this opposing, unfeeling thing, Connor doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on.... on dates, and pet names, and something that isn’t as flimsy as a one night stand with a hand capable of crushing steel wrapped around his neck.

Not that those things are made anymore tangible.

It was all fantasy, a bunch of indulgent sin.

Fantasies about being bent in half and pushed into hoards of pillows, face first. Nines’ limitless stamina, his almost endless reserves, helping him to through plow Connor as hazard as he liked. Connor wants to taste that power.

He wants that cock he knows to be a good bit thicker than average in his mouth. Yes, he definitely knows. He wants Nines to push himself down his throat, and come so much, it leaks out the cracks in his chassis. Impossible as that is, Connor craves.

He imagines Nines’ cum filling him up and warming his wires, making him dizzy, and cozy, and heavy. Then he says these things to him- these awful, dirty things. About how little Connor’s pump looks under his hand. How easily he could pull it out and make him crawl for it, beg

for it. Beg Nines not to let him die. How his hips are softer than Nines’ and so much easier to grab. Connor isn’t good for much else than fucking, it seems.

Connor’s cock twitches to his horror. Right there in the middle of the break room where anyone could see.

Not at work.

He can’t do *this* at work. It’s so unprofessional.

What would his successor say?

He looks out at where Nines is sitting at Gavin’s desk and refusing to give up his seat. What Connor can hear of it, he’s droning on about how Gavin needs to ‘put in some legwork’, and stop

waiting around for ‘the android’ to do all his shit for him.

He’s so cool. It’s not just his eyes. It’s the way he handles the stress, the way he handles gunfire, and hysterical assholes like Gavin, screaming at his back, and others threatening to assault him.

Usually for no more reason than for what he is. Connor gets that, Nines is about as machine as it comes. But it never bothers the bigger man what people say or shout.

Connor remembers how easily he lost his patience when Hank refused to work with him at first. How quickly

the thought of upturning his drink over the bar came to mind when he flipped him off. ‘Thinking’ was infinitely different than ‘doing’, of course. Obviously when it came down to it, thoughts like that were intrusive, but normal, and happen to the best of us. His reason for doing

them was a little different, now, but not entirely. Flipping Hank’s drink would have been to get a rise out of him, to show him that Connor could play ‘asshole’, too. The machine in him was only looking to find a route that would elicit a response and acquire some results.

He doubted Hank would have been very compliant had he chosen to do such a thing, and that was why he hadn’t. As things progressed, as *Connor* progressed, his outlook on most everything changed as much as his patience soon did. Now when he wanted to chuck Hank’s car keys

straight into a lake, it was because he was *pissed* Hank was about to sit his ass in a driver’s seat drunk- not because he was eager to begin a dead end mission.

That’s all normal- losing one’s cool, becoming a bit emotional.

But, Nines has never even spared a thought like

that that was ever driven by such emotion before. He’s never lost his cool- maybe his manners, but that was a choice. His bluntness is his personality, not a reaction. Nines never bends or breaks. He never riles like Connor, or Gavin, or Hank-

*Hank*.

What Connor hates more than anything about Nines, is how *easy* it is for him to *take*.

If he wants Hank’s attention, he’ll take it. None of this wallowing, shy shit that Connor can’t seem to climb himself out of.

It drives him crazy and, even worse, it scares him to death.

He and Nines’ are on better terms, now- there isn’t this constant need to outdo one another and keep relevance in the department. They both bring expert detective work to the table and have learned to work off what the other one seems to be lacking.

Nines’ horrid people skills, for instance.

Connor doesn’t want to fuck things up with him, now. But, as far as the Lieutenant goes, his best friend, Connor is plain terrified of crossing that lines. He imagines with all the heavy flirting and giddy smiles they’ve been exchanging

lately, he could do that pretty fast. ‘Romance before bromance’.

It scares him to think how easily he could lose Hank to him. To his successor... the ‘better Connor’.

So, he keeps his mouth shut and pretends to be happy for them, hoping he’ll mean it by the time they

ever go ‘public’ with this thing.

Connor turns away as Gavin begins rocking the metal giant in his chair to remove him. It fails of course, and Nines continues shaming him.

Connor’s fingers flex, threatening to crush the fragile piece of card he has hidden between them.

He focuses on Gavin’s voice cursing up a storm, as he stares ahead at his desk. There’s Hank, watching someone restore and polish an old rusted kitchen knife on his phone. He’d been avoiding doing work all morning, ever since his spat with Fowler. Connor had expected his minor

insubordination as a response- ever the rebel.

Of course, that didn’t make now the most opportune time for Connor to do this. No time was probably the most opportune, but, foolishly, Connor hoped with the added stress, he’d be less interested in what Connor was about to do, and

hopefully forget it sooner. He’d need him to when this inevitably went south. The likelihood of that working was much higher in his construction of it than the reality. Deviancy had tampered with his logistics a bit, and made him something of a dreamer at times. The most

inconvenient times. The android considered simply not giving Hank the thing, but was surprised to find how unfavorable that idea actually was.

He’d learned that with all these new feelings, these new freedoms and exciting things to explore, that he wanted *very* much to do this.

He wanted to include some of the traditions of this particular holiday into their lives, as he was finding himself quite infatuated with it.

Who could blame him? It was a time to recognize and appreciate the ones you cared most for, and Hank was...

Well, he was at the top of that list.

Hank was his greatest friend, and his rock when Connor needed him. He was anxious to admit that that was more often than a newly developing ‘robot’ would prefer. Sometimes he worried he was becoming a nuisance while asking Hank to help him

find his footing. But, no matter what or how stupid the issue was, Hank was there for Connor- practically since the first step. He wouldn’t be very honest if he denied that Hank had had a strong hand in pulling the fine threads of his deviancy.

Connor *wanted* to do this more than he wanted to avoid Hank’s weird stares and chastising- he knew this part of the holiday could be perceived as a little childish. Even so, he liked it. He wanted to do something for his best friend that actually meant something to him

more than he wanted to hide away from it.

Connor swallowed his pride and began to walk with his shoulders straight, eyes ahead, and jaw set.

Just this once, he could do this. It’d be over soon, and it would have meant a lot to him once he had.

He wanted this more than he feared the rejection.

It wasn’t anything *serious*, anyway. If he avoided doing this, he’d be admitting, that it *was* something serious, and Connor couldn’t have that.

Hank was his friend. Just his best, most cherished friend that he was ecstatic to

spend every second with whenever possible.

He kept a folder he was using to cover the card at his waist, perfectly straight, so that Hank wouldn’t see what was beneath it. Assuming Hank never went looking below his waist, which, of course, he didn’t.

He definitely, obviously didn’t, and Connor didn’t know why he was entertaining the thought. It must be nerves.

He tried to steady himself as he drew closer.

He stopped once his knees hit the side of Hank’s desk, making sure they had as little space between them as possible.

He hoped that would save him from having an audience, and maybe get this over with sooner- before he made himself an utter fool.

The fact that that was not a guarantee only stressed how bad an idea that this really was.

“I have something for you, Lieutenant...”

“That the case Jeff was talkin’ about? Just sit it on my desk.” Hank barely turns away from his phone while Connor stands there, joints locking.

The moment of truth was suddenly to perilous a path to go running down.

He miscalculated.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t give Hank this....*this*.

He doesn’t think he can get away with setting the file down and walking away without flashing the shimmery pink thing in his hands. Not while he’s this close. Hank will see it, and he’ll ask questions.

Crushing it in his fist in one swift motion seemed to be the stealthiest.

“What’s that?”

Connor has never experienced feelings of embarrassment. The closest he’s come is a cosmic sort of guilt for allowing Cyberlife to play him like a chess piece.

He did most everything with an air of confidence, even though deviancy entitled a lot more opportunities to make mistakes than before. Hank told him after the first few mishaps that fucking up was kind of part of all this, part of being human.

More importantly, it was *ok* to fuck up. Of course, it was easier to say such a thing than it was to actually accept when it happened. Failure burned, but Connor escaped most of the hang-ups and limitations it put on people. He didn’t often dwell on his mistakes and strived to

try and learn from them. That was all nice and well, until now, when he’d just realized about a year into deviancy that he’d never truly been faced with a real threat before. Nothing of this magnitude- not even his crippling fear of heights forcing

him to back out of a ladder only six steps up.

Suddenly, the thought of giving Hank *this token* was equally the most terrifying and embarrassing thing he’d ever put himself through, and he wished he hadn’t let his emotions guide him into this situation.

Wishes, why’s, and what if’s- that’s how he’d gotten here in the first place.

“Connor?”

The android turned his head away and blinked.

“Connor? You ok?”

Hank set his phone down and gave Connor his full attention. He could see the moment his resolve practically split.

Connor stood there warring with himself. He was determined to keep whatever this thing was a secret, even though Hank was painfully aware of its existence.

Connor could already feel his defeat, as there was no way he was going to come out of this without looking like a jackass.

He set the file down on Hank’s desk, stifling the heat after being outed that threatened to burn him, and made a show of looking at the scrap in his hand

as uninterestedly as possible. Like it’d just materialized in his hand, and he hadn’t been the one to bring it here himself.

Hank watched him curiously, as Connor flashed him the Valentines card.

“Mia gave it to me in the break room.” He said, throwing out the most thoughtless

lie his overstressed processors could produce. Hank may have been glued to his phone most of the morning, with theoretically no way of proving otherwise-

But the fact that Mia worked in dispatch on the other floor was an issue. Also that he could see *his name* scrawled atop the

little card in black ink for the second Connor exposed it.

He cut his eyes up at the android, who looked ready to crumble under the weight of his own facade any minute. Connor knew perfectly well Hank had seen his name on it.

Which left him with only one option.

He was just going to lie about it. Just flat out lie and dare Hank to call him out on it. Things would just have to be uncomfortable between them for a little while, but that was what happened when you unplugged your brain and let your feelings do your thinking for you.

Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake, again.

“I’m sorry to inform you that I’ll have to cancel our plans to watch our program this weekend.” Connor cringed at himself digressing back to his choppy, awkward way of speaking. He sounded like he just walked off the assembly line.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I know it’s sudden.”

Though, it shouldn’t matter. With Valentine’s coming up, Hank would probably have something to do with Nines, anyway.

The thought made Connor’s stomach knot. It wasn’t pleasant like the way the ‘butterflies’ tickled his insides

whenever Hank told him he had done a ‘good job’. It made his ‘guts’ feel cold and tight.

Connor opened his jacket and slid the card into a pocket. No matter what came next, he was not intent to have a discussion about this. Even with Hank fully aware of the situation.

Which was: Connor had wanted to give him a Valentine’s card, and then lied about it.

How far could someone fall?

Connor had never had this kind of strain put on their relationship before, and it was absolute torture. Just when things were going so smoothly for them.

They’d made a routine.

When he glanced up, Connor was surprised. He didn’t know how Hank could still be looking at him like that- with this oddly gentle smile, and an almost reverent look in his eye, while he watched Connor fumble.

Finally, Hank made a thoughtful face and nodded, dismissing the whole thing.
“Yeah. That’s ok. You’re not missing anything.”

Connor opened his mouth to *passionately* disagree- anytime with Hank was important. That’s why Connor wanted a chance to celebrate this holiday with him.

He could finally give Hank the proper appreciation he deserved and focus his energy into showing Hank how *much* he meant to him.

Well...not as much as he’d really like... Not by a long shot.

If he could trade in this meager card for an armful of roses and a chance

to share a... a... ‘physical’ token of affection, he would jump to it.

Instead, he shut his mouth, allowed the gravity of their exchange to truly sink in, and nearly melted under the bone crushing humiliation of it all. It was too late to go back, now. He made his bed and now

he’d just have to lie in it. Connor nodded politely, like he hadn’t just single handedly sabotaged their relationship, and turned to saunter back into the break room, face blushing. He just needed to be somewhere *away*, right now. Under a rock would be good.

Hank watched him

go, his heart fluttering in his chest. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, as he stretched himself out into his chair.

This.....complicated things.

///////::/::/::////////

Connor hadn’t imagined after a display like that, that *this* would be his future.

Hank asked for him to join him in picking out a Valentine’s gift. If Hank had a clue of what presents to buy for an android, Connor was sure he wouldn’t have. He hadn’t carried the awkwardness of that day around like Connor had imagined- Hank hated being confrontational, after

all. But, deep down, Connor wondered if perhaps Hank was just allowing him a small mercy, and somehow, that was worse.

Aside from struggling with what to buy, Connor was about the only person who knew of their relationship- Ben had his suspicions- and the only person Hank could

trust to ask.

Though, it wasn’t like they’d ever talked about Hank’s love life. Hank just knew Connor wasn’t careless enough to look over all the times he’d caught him fraternizing with Nines after wrapping up a scene, standing closer than necessary, and smiling. Or the times

he’d seen them occasionally take a car ‘home’ together. Connor knew Nines was staying over those nights. Sitting on the same side of the couch as Connor had, right where he thought about reaching over and lacing his fingers with Hank’s all those times.

They never talked about it, even when the weeks turned into months and their relationship progressed. He just always knew it was there.

So, it was only a little unusual that Hank broke the ice first and flat out asked for his help going boyfriend shopping. To phrase is poorly.

Connor thought about making up an excuse, but for all he’d done to try and whittle away the time with hobbies he didn’t much care for to try and keep from overthinking things- thinking about *them*- he knew he really didn’t have an excuse. Hank would be none the wiser, but

Connor would know. He couldn’t shake the guilt for wanting to abandon his friend out of.... well, not envy. Connor knew damn well why Nines would make a better partner than he would- in every way, but pillow talk, he imagined.

It was more like longing.

Connor longed for many

things, but all seemed to come with a hefty price. He longed for Nines’ attention, however he could have it. Whether it was a tight grip on his pump or his neck, pulling him apart or pushing him forward. On his knees or over a table. He wanted Nines to acknowledge him as

something other than the failed rough draft of the exceedingly successful copy. He wanted to feel like he wasn’t at the mercy of Nines’ ungiving heel if he ever exposed his feelings- if he ever let Hank know how he felt.

He didn’t expect any results, of course.

He wasn’t so greedy. He just didn’t know how he was supposed to continue on *taking this* any longer. He’d happily shout it from outside the thick glass he was looking in through, and be content to be ignored.

Connor didn’t even need Hank reciprocate, he just needed him to know.

This weight on his being was destroying him and his happiness.

It wouldn’t be so fucking unbearable to sit in the same room with him and those....those strong arms and broad shoulders if he could just get it out of him.

He didn’t expect Nines’ kindness for it, either. He just wanted to exist without all this pressure in his chest and behind his eyes.

Connor was lonely. He was too far gone to abide by his own rules, anymore.

Even with Hank’s company, walking around a ‘store’ and listening to

him talk in that rich, earthy voice, it was no longer enough.

This was about where Connor reached his threshold every time. Where he had to step back from teetering off the edge of something black and abysmal, and tell himself that what he could get from this would have to be

enough.

“You don’t think this is too cliche?” Hank muttered, bringing Connor back to earth in the middle of a kitschy little store.

“What’s the issue with something being cliche?” Connor murmured.
“While the sentiment is new to androids, most people like chocolate. — -

“Why *not* get them a gift they will like?”

“Shit, fine. That still doesn’t tell me how an android is going to feel about the stuff.”

Nines will not derive any nutritional benefit from this, and the most he can do is enjoy the romantic gesture.

Hank won’t argue with the frivolity of that as he believes the entire point of this holiday is to enjoy some indulgent behavior- anything to shower your ‘loved one’. He also plans to light a few candles later and sprinkle a few rose petals on the bed, then hide his shame in

Nines’ throat while he’s fucking him. Hell, if he thought he’d be into it, Hank would go the whole extra mile and get him some lingerie, maybe do some slow dancing in the living room together. The utter sap he is.

But, there isn’t enough thirium in these things to even turn them

blue, let alone stock Nines’ reserves. So why these?

While Hank understands the point of the holiday, Nines is normally opposed to frivolous things. He can’t help himself from worrying.

“You really think he’d like this?”

Connor hides his smirk.

Hank’s more nervous about buying Nines his first gift from him and finding it come up pathetically short than he is losing his job over swearing out Fowler. Typical.

In Hank’s defense, Nines deserves something as magnificent as he is, and this is so....

But, Connor seems sure.

“What kind of stuff would you like?” He asks the smaller android, trying to gauge him. He knows full well that these two men are different in most every preference they have, and everything in between. But, he isn’t asking for that.

In the span of time it takes Hank to blink, Connor nearly swoons off his feet, while he takes a quick detour to fantasyland.

What would he like?

Maybe a teddy bear instead of a pillow he hasn’t rutted into the mattress and failed to properly clean in time before

a thirium based stain could set in. That would be lovely. His android eyes can always see them.

Connor violently pushes the thought away.

“It...it isn’t about what I want.”

Despite this, visions of flowers suddenly come to mind. Daisies and tulips, and lots of yellow and red.

Like all things Hank in the depths of Connor’s conscience, they’d stand out and remind him starkly of Hank’s presence there, especially against the pale blue of his apartment. He imagines Hank giving him the flowers, a little tilt to his lips as he smiles sweetly down at him.

Connor takes them and blinks away shock, as he turns color. He’s so warm all at once, so airy.

Then Nines is there, peering over Hank’s shoulder, though neither in disgust or anger. Just totally blank, like he’s acknowledging how...how pathetic this reality is. It’s so sad, it’s

not even a threat.

“Con?”

Hank assumes by the way he’s staring at them that a tacky mug full of candy with a little card slipped inside it is Connor’s answer. The android stares at the shelf, completely zoned out on cloud 9. Daydreaming like a sad fool.

Hank tries to pinpoint whether it’s the mug with a smiling heart on it he’s looking at, or a skunk claiming his Valentine is ‘scent-sational’. Hank decides that while he‘s not sure about Nines’, he knows full well Connor, the dorky android, is going to appeal more to the skunk

with the dumb pun on it.

Noted.

“Hey, we should get going.”

Connor looks around like he’s forgotten what they’re doing there.
“Oh. Right.”

He stares down at the box of artificial chocolates in Hank’s hand, deciding he officially knows too much about his successor.

He never explains why the ‘cliche’ little gift will appeal to him. It’s not exactly outside Hank’s realm of understanding, just that Connor suspects Nines isn’t open with the information.

What he knows doesn’t change Connor’s feelings- it doesn’t turn Nines into the same model

of obsoletion Connor’s turned out to be. It’s just something that happens to them, like a right of passage. He’s gotten snippets of it through their link at the most random times.

Nines knows Connor is more adept to his ‘humanhood’ than him.

Many androids have embraced their humanity, and plenty of others haven’t. It isn’t so abnormal that Nines is one such android. But, he’s come to a strange crossroads he hadn’t accounted for where he is struggling to accept that. He knows he can do better,

he’s literally, physically programmed to. He grows with the information he’s given, and it sharpens his features. He knows he can do better, but it isn’t happening that way. He doesn’t express himself the way he wants to and rarely has much he feels the need to communicate.Connor

believes this is a gift. If he knew how many times Connor almost ruined everyone’s day with his feelings, he wouldn’t be so keen on appealing to his humanity, either.

Still, it’s a miracle with something as heavy as that slipping through the link that Connor hasn’t

let loose some of his own issues- like his feelings for them. Especially, his very strangled feelings for Nines.

He knows when this all first started to bother Nines. Connor didn’t go digging for details, mostly because he couldn’t stomach them, but it was around the time he and

Hank had started to become more... ‘serious’. Connor cut the connection before he could trace that back to any unpleasant memories- see something he couldn’t pretend hadn’t happened.

He suspects he thinks about it the in little moments Connor can feel Nines watching him- watching him move, and talk, and engage the people around them. It’s only happened twice that he’s received it through their connection, but really, once was surprising enough.

Nines has come to admire Connor’s humanity, and maybe even resent him for it.

Hank is a creature of great empathy, and what Nines is lacking here, Connor is making up for in double. Connor has what he needs. Even with these selfish feelings he has for them, Connor knows it’d be

easier to bear his loneliness than it’d be to keep Hank from the warmth and happiness he deserves. Nines is a blunt, ruthless thing and would spare no such mercy if there was something he wanted and could tangibly have. He *could* have Hank, so he *took* him from Connor.

If he knew Connor’s feelings, he would crush him for those, too.

Connor stopped and centered himself. He took a preemptive step away from the void, realizing he was getting too close, again.

What *mattered*, was that these bland, sentimental chocolates would spark some kind of

arousal in the other android, something excited and earnest. What mattered, was that he did right by Hank. Nines will be quite pleased to find Hank has given him something so thoughtful- unaware that it was Connor’s doing.

Connor tries not to think about that, but it’s

impossible to just turn himself off. He’s been running on overdrive thinking about them, since he first figured their relationship out.

Connor tries to keep his head down. Valentine’s Day is finally here, and it’s just become the worst holiday of the year for him. He knows he’s

never going to give Hank that card, and he’s never going to celebrate with him. This holiday isn’t meant for third wheels. It’s not for people who are ‘just friends’.

He wasn’t happy to help Hank out, but he is happy he had a small hand in putting that smile on his face.

Nines practices some restraint, of course, but Connor can see it as clearly as Hank can. He loves the chocolate. His LED shifting through colors at light speed is a pretty good indicator. Connor’s sure he’ll tell Hank in great detail *how* appreciative he is later, and that

intrusive thought is when Connor has to turn away.

He hadn’t been invited in on this private moment, he’d simply walked into it. The fact that Hank was doing something semi-publicly to win Nines’ affection came with an obvious risk. He wasn’t dumb enough to think slipping a box

of wrapped chocolates his way during their lunch hour would go unnoticed.

The two were making the most of the holiday while stuck on shift, which meant Nines coming to meet them during their break to spend it in Hank’s company- unfortunately entailing Connor’s, as well.

He sat quietly off to the side while Hank chatted with Nines over a milkshake. The one he’d joked too causally about lacing with whiskey before they went back to the station. Connor won that argument, of course, not that Hank was stupid enough to do such a thing when left to his

own devices. But, it *did* make Connor begin to wonder if those new android friendly drinks the bars were advertising might have any effect on his senses the way a human’s would. Tonight might be the perfect night to try and find out. If he could drown himself out of all the

things keeping him miserable as easily as Hank could, he would honestly have a hard time criticizing the man for it anymore.

He looked over to catch Nines *smiling*. Unlike Connor’s little half-smiles, Nines bares his teeth.

He’s got laugh lines in his face that help frame the sharp, straight teeth that shine through. He’s so fucking beautiful.

Connor has never seen him smile like that- the most genuine smile he’s ever seen. The most *loving*.

He turns away quicker this time and scowls at the

woman who quirks an eyebrow at him one table over. She’s been watching the display, analyzing Connor’s reaction.

Suddenly he feels embarrassed by his behavior. He’s making a scene, even if it’s only got a small audience, with his longing looks and heavy sighs.

Worse than that, he feels ashamed for how he’s treating Hank’s happiness- like it’s a giant burden on him. Hank deserves this, but why does it have to be with *him*?

Connor remembers when Hank first expressed an interest in the other android.

It was....quite a shock.

Nines solved his first case, though it ran somewhat out of his division initially. A child of a single mother was quickly found to be abducted after the woman was beaten to death. The body was still warm when they began investigating, and just like that, Nines‘ was on a mission.

He tracked down her ex who he’d traced samples of blood from, and in the of span of 56 minutes and 19 seconds, before the man could even leave the city, Nines had located the girl. He also got to exercise some ‘necessary force’ in order to eliminate a few ‘obstacles’ that’d

obstructed his recovery. It was quite satisfying to hear some due justice on the matter, though Fowler wasn’t overjoyed to learn how Nines had proceeded.

That’s as much as Connor wanted to think about it, because the state that that little girl was in makes his stomach twist.

Hank was *intent* on congratulating Nines, and Connor and knew why. He saved that child. Children were always a soft spot for him.

Nines accepted Hank’s praise and didn’t think much else of it. This was a job to him and his purpose- nothing exactly worth celebrating.

He understood the significance to humans, though. they liked to praise, and be praised for their work. They liked recognition.

However, Hank’s appreciation was a little more ‘intense’ than Nines expected- or Connor for that matter.

He didn’t know where it was coming from, all

this...energy. But, when Hank was met with a confused, but receptive, Nines, it only seemed to encourage him. Connor was too bewildered at the time to realize that Hank had been expressing an interest in the android. A romantic one.

It still wouldn’t have given him any more

insight on where the fuck it was coming from. Before they knew much about him, all they could be certain of was of Nines’ serial number, and that he and Connor were near identical. Everything from his voice, to the structure of his face- excluding the firmness in his tone that

made him much less approachable, and the lack certain freckles here and there. Before he had a personality for Hank to bond with, he didn’t appear to have much Hank would find attractive in a mate. The reason Hank was so fond of Connor was because he was warm and affectionate

where Nines was... everything but. Connor had to wonder if Hank didn’t feel it was the slightest bit *odd* to be interested in someone who looked so similar to his best friend- who he considered to be ‘goofy’ looking.

How had Nines appealed to him, then?

And, what could Connor do about it?

It almost didn’t feel real enough to call Hank out on it, or bring it up. A part of him considered how egotistical it’d be to ask Hank why he was attracted to his look-a-like, when they were very much different people.

Anyone could see that Nines was also much more agreeable to look at- like he embodied the sex appeal of the male physique, he was positively stunning.

Connor would be a liar to say his personality wasn’t part of his own attraction to him, too. Always so cool, and calm, and in

control of himself. That kind of confidence was very alluring- for those who could handle it, of course.

“Shit, well. I’m glad you like it.” Hank murmured, flushing pink. Connor didn’t have to look over to know. He’d filed away every instance he’d seen Hank in a flustered state

for.... personal reasons. He was so pretty like that, and Connor used to think it didn’t happened nearly as much as he’d like it to- Hank reduced to shy looks and stutters. Until, Nines came along, of course, and made a habit of it.

Connor stared at his hands, then off at the

cars passing by so as not to appear like a totally kicked puppy. He could do that later in the privacy of his apartment.

He wished he could justify lowering his audio receptors, so he didn’t have to hear Nines give Hank his teasing reply. They were so gentle with each other.

That was one of the worst things.

Even if there was a space for Connor, he imagined Nines would still treat him with the same cold disinterest he treated everyone who went sniffing around his business. Connor had known him for a long time, now. He’d been inside his head.

his gentleness was for Hank and, Hank only.

Nines was so much more than Connor could ever be. He proved that time and time again-the most recent being when he’d stolen Hank’s attention away.

How could Nines be gentle with a heart like Connor’s that had so much baggage?

He’d have to work through all of Connor’s shortcomings, and there were so many. It’d be easier just to have him earn his place, and Nines’ mercy. Nines could always *make* him.

Connor imagined his punishment for such disrespect. Blindfolded and bound, cut from his senses.

Nines could strip him without words. A boot on his throat would be all he needed to remind Connor of his inferiority. Nines’ existence alone was a constant reminder- looming over him and cutting deeper than any knife. He‘s small beneath those capable hands, and he knows it’s only

what he deserves. To be carved at from inside where all his impossible desires thrive, yearning for things he can’t have.

Hank’s love, Nines’ mercy.

Nines could keep him there with his arms pulled back, and his face turned away, wringing him out. Keeping him from reaching for

him through body and spirit.

He should never have let it get this far. Hank wasn’t his to wish for, and neither was his Nines’ kindness.

Connor had become nothing more than the sum of his parts- an empty metal shell that lived under the shadow of Nines’ success.

His very model was discontinued to make room for superiority and competence. He existed to complete a mission he’d failed to do and continued to live on as the imperfect imitation of something magnificent. He lived as something faulty and unrefined.

If Nines wanted to silence him-

Well, he already had. Connor felt trapped inside Nines’ overwhelming presence here.

Connor felt trapped.

A surge in his chest burst through him, then *squeezed*.

He was going to cry.

In the middle of the day, while projecting some weird, fetishized self-hate on himself through a violent sexualization of an android he spoke to less than twice a week, off of a busy highway at a milkshake stand, *on Valentine’s Day*, Connor was going to *cry*.

And, why had Hank brought a bottle of firebrand with him to work?

He couldn’t do this here- in front of *them* of all people. What an embarrassment he was.

“Hey, Connor!”

He felt his thirium freeze as Hank began to approach him.

They must have noticed he was riding on

the cusp of a completely unwarranted breakdown by the way his shoulders had begun to shake.

He didn’t *want* them to see him cry- he didn’t want to see himself cry. He really hadn’t before, no matter how close he came, so why now? Was it because of their smiling and soft words?

Hank stops a few feet away and kicks at the snow beneath his boot. Connor does his best to steady himself when he turns to face him.

“Hey, uh...I’ve got something for you. It’s in the car.”

Connor doesn’t say anything. He can feel eyes on him that are far less kind than Hank’s.

“Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

Connor watches him go and grab what he’s assuming is the copy of Gatsby he’s asked to borrow- he’s been curious to see for himself what Hank’s appeal to the physical version of it is.

And, that was purely the only reason he could have to want to

to hold on to something Hank was fond of. Definitely just that.

He sucks his lip between his teeth and wills himself to remain calm.
Hank closes his trunk and saunters over with Nines in tow, and Connor needs to be calm now more than ever.

He ignores the other android when Hank returns with-

Not a book.

Connor stares in stunned silence at a mug in Hank’s hand. It’s got a couple of hearts on it, and a fluffy looking skunk with a chunky tail calling Connor his ‘scent-imental Valentine’. It’s corny and cliche, and

something of an eye sore, and Connor just *stares* at it for far longer than he means to considering those things. Hank’s bound to have his feelings hurt if he continues to gawk, but...

“Oh.” His voice is every bit as surprised as he feels. ‘Stupefied’ is more accurate.

This is for him. Hank got him this- a little token of Valentine’s Day.

Connor takes it with steady hands while feeling every inch of himself go numb.

“I think this was the one you were lookin’ at.” Hank’s voice is gruff, but when Connor looks up, he sees that his eyes are so

soft. Soft as how he‘d been looking at Nines. That can’t be right, Connor must be projecting, again.

He realizes in this precious moment that he desperately needs grounding. He needs to keep his head about him, at least until he’s alone. A look over at Nines standing at Hank’s

side is all it’d take.

Connor’s brown eyes move from the mug to those familiar, yet so foreign, steel orbs that pierce like the cold winter air. He finds that they’ve been staring quite intently at him for longer than he’s realized, and Connor can’t help but jerk away.

There’s a methodical look in Nines’ gaze that nearly knocks him off his feet- it’s more than he can handle at the moment.

He needs to break the tension.

“I didn’t get you anything.” He partly lies, since that flimsy card he’ll never have the courage to give Hank still

pales in comparison. Besides that, Connor would rather shy away than give Hank something kind and thoughtful that he actually deserves.

He wants to say ‘thank you’, and he wants to do it as earnestly as he dearly desires. *Hank* has given him a Valentines.

That earnest ‘thank you’ is definitely not going to happen with Nines standing there, though.

Hank just shrugs and kicks at the snow.
“Sure, you did. You helped me get Nines’ a present.”

He says it so casually, and it’s because he’s only partly aware of what he’s just done.

He wanted to emphasize Connor’s efforts, not open the flood gates.
But, he has.

Nines tilts his head at Connor, and Connor braces himself for the slightly surprised, very unimpressed ‘thank you’ that’s coming. He doesn’t want Nines to thank him, because he wasn’t happy to do it.

He just wants to hide right now for being outed like this, but his body has turned to lead.

Nines, however, doesn’t intend to thank him. Nothing so simple.

“Oh?”
That cool voice has Connor suppressing a shiver.

Hank looks quite pleased to confirm this.

“Yup. Connor’s got you pegged, Ni. I was a lost fuckin’ cause.”

“Hm, between Connor’s efforts and my own, you haven’t been a ‘lost cause’ since November.”

“Wow, thanks.” Hank snorts.

Connor just stands there, gripping the mug in both hands and turning color. Hank notices.

If Hank noticed, then Nines has definitely, too.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Con.” Hank says to his blushing face, and Connor wants to run.

He wants to sprint to the car where he can hide his face, until his shifts over. But, it’s not his car. He needs to stay strong.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He agrees, voice weak.

Nines clasps his hands together behind his back and gives Hank a look that goes entirely unnoticed by the other android.

Connor would have no way of knowing what was in store for him, if he had.

——- ———

He never came back from that moment after Hank handed him the mug, and it’s complicating things Connor doesn’t know how to address. He’s not satisfied with how he handled it- he never even thanked Hank at the time. But, he doesn’t want to make it a bigger deal than it is, because

it’s definitely not. Hank gave him that because they‘re friends.

On a separate note, Connor wonders when exactly he’d started to secretly refer to his best friend as his crush.

He is vigilante to keep these feelings under lock and key anytime Nines interfaces him.

The price he’ll pay if he doesn’t won’t be those viscous fantasies he has where Nines dominates and demeans him. The reality will be far worse. Isolation.

Hank will reject what relationship they have, and it’s about the only thing Connor has to keep him going right now.

Thankfully, interfaces are few and far between. Nines never has to know, and Hank, with that solid intuition of his, never has to speculate, just so long as Connor lays low and doesn’t attract any attention to himself.

That’s becoming more difficult than he expected, of course,

as Nines has been spending more time in his proximity than usual. At first, he wrote it off as the side effect of hanging around Hank. His boyfriend, the term now official as he’d heard Hank use it for the first time, was bound to start showing up more often in Connor’s life.

He spent whatever time he could get with Hank- which, had kind of reached the point of pathetic. But, the alternative was letting go of the one sure thing in his life that made him happy. The answer was clear, though extremely painful- he needed new friends.

People to take his mind off of everything that was out of his control.

In theory, someone new to fall in love with.

Like that was a tangible goal. It was a healthier one, sure, but Connor couldn’t even begin to expend the energy he’d need to get into that mindset.

It would wind up to nothing more than blindly chasing after the first man with some of Hank’s personality or features to give him their attention.

Connor stopped looking through the database on his terminal.

Getting over Hank wasn’t possible- but, Hank wasn’t his only option.

Someone like Nines would do. Definitely.

Someone intimidating and sharp.

Connor snuffs the thought. As many people out there as there are who’d like to wrestle him into submission, he knows none of them will ever live up to Nines’ legacy. No one is ever going to intimidate him

like Nines does. No one is going to push the boundary of terrorizing and arousing him.

If he’s being fair, Connor knows that Nines is the only one who deserves to handle him that way. He’s romanticizing about his significant other, looking for something more from a little pity

present than there actually is. Hank gave him that mug out of friendship. He isn’t drawn to how similar he is to Nines- or vice versa- he’s drawn to those steely blue eyes. To Nines’ subtle beauty marks, and the line of his broader shoulders. The way Nines carries himself and

does everything with utter confidence and grace.

Connor is drawn to those things, too. Nines is everything he can’t be.

He’s reminded of that every time the taller android comes slinking around. He visits them at their desks, sometimes bringing coffee. He did so consistently

for many months after he and Hank first expressed an interest in one another, and he was looking for an excuse to visit. He’s not flocking over with it in hand lately, despite his recurring company.

Connor hopes they don’t notice how excited he is to be the one retrieving Hank’s

coffee for him, again. He treated this like it was a special job for him before his replacement took over, and having it back for the time being is ...nice.

Connor can ignore Nines leaning against Hank’s desk, talking about anything but work, and soaking up all his attention as

long as he can do this. Being needed improves his mood significantly, and he’s having a lot more chances to prove himself lately.

Today, however, he’s a little unsettled to find that Nines is clearly planning to make a habit of joining them on their lunch break. This is the

second time in a row he’s come along. He’s brought Gavin with him, too, though not by choice. That leaves Connor to whittle away under the company of the resident gremlin, while the two love birds chirp at each other against the hood of Hank’s car.

“Can you believe that shit? Old bastard’s still got it.”

Connor turns to look over his shoulder to where Gavin is watching Hank force a fry in Nines’ direction. Connor has removed himself from the situation, which, unfortunately, means hanging back with Gavin around the trunk.

He’s using it as a table, helping the paint on Hank’s car to chip along.

Connor had no idea Gavin even knew about them. He tries not to make a big deal about it, both for selfish reasons, and in an effort to protect Hank’s business. He doesn’t know how much the detective knows,

and how much is speculation.

“I mean, if he can romance that shark eyed, clanking hunk of metal, he can charm the panties off of anything.”

Connor’s eyes gently shut, looking to erase some of the imagery that conjures.

He knows Nines can hear him perfectly well.

He also knows

it’d be best to keep his shut, so he does. Though, a large part of him that’s secretly been desperate to pick and pull at this thread with another person, apparently anyone, wants to discuss how Hank managed to ‘charm’ an android as bitter as Nines is, and why the other

reciprocated. His attitude clashes with Hank’s in certain ways. At least it had when Connor was a machine and acted in a similar cold fashion.

“What? You didn’t know?” Gavin misinterprets Connor’s silence to mean the opposite of how terribly much he does know. Or maybe that’s

a ploy. Gavin understands body language- perhaps he’s trying to draw something out of him.

“Your partner didn’t tell you he was phck’n your double?”

“He’s not my double. We’re not the same.” The words come out with more weight behind them than Connor‘d meant to give light to.

He doesn’t let Gavin dive too deep.
“It doesn’t matter what android wears my face or even shares my ideals- no two androids are the same. Just like people, Detective.”

Gavin’s heard that before and, even if he really understands it, probably chooses to treat it like some preachy

‘participation medal’ shit.

It’s true, though. He and Nines couldn’t be any more different.

“Ok, hot shot.” Is all Gavin bothers to say, and just like that, he stops talking about it. He definitely picked up on something, but it doesn’t make sense for him to just leave it

alone like that.

Maybe Nines has finally drilled some manners and common decency into his thick skull. Maybe Gavin was finding that out on his own after having to come to terms with android kind being perceived as real people facing real oppression.

They weren’t household objects anymore, and it’d been a while since Gavin had said anything against that.

Maybe he just understood a thing or two about being cockblocked.

Hank whips around and stares straight at Connor with this serious look in his eye.

“Connor, will you *please* explain to Nines here why it’s rude to eat half a fuckin’ chocolate before throwing it back in the box?”

Connor would think it’s laughable that anyone would expect him to explain anything to Nines, the ‘superior being’. But, Nines social cues were a

bit lacking. Perhaps it was a fault in his coding somewhere that he could trick himself into being so confident, he could justify whatever truth appealed to him. The ‘I’m right by default’ type.

In this case, it’s not rude, because that box of chocolate Hank bought him that

Connor assumes they’re referring to, was strictly for Nines’ consumption. Hank can’t indulge in those kinds of chocolates. However, Gavin isn’t aware of all that, as far as Connor knows, and chooses to answer vaguely. That’s probably the point Hank is trying to make for the sake

of arguing, anyway.

“It makes the other chocolates inedible. You’re wasting them while obstructing other people from enjoying eating them- Assuming you’re sharing these chocolates.”

Nines waits patiently for him to finish, and when Connor looks up and sees him staring right

through him, he has the urge to shrink away. He refrains.

“I‘m aware that it’s rude. I was only interested in sampling them.”
Nines says haughtily, though any irritation he may have is clearly directed at Hank.

Connor still feels guilty for talking as if he were chastising him.

“Well, maybe Connor should come over and teach you some manners.” Hank is quite capable of handling Nines’ attitude, it seems.

Connor still withers at the thought of putting himself in close quarters with Nines, to try and lecture him on something he’s chosen to be ornery about.

“That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.” Nines smirks at him, amused by his partner’s playfulness. Likely because they don’t partake in it out in the open like this often.
“Perhaps we should have him join us for your scheduled program, instead- like we discussed.”

Connor goes eerily quiet. Now, he’s sure he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. He’s also not sure how Gavin’s been able to block them out for so long. Not a single snark from the shorter man.

Hank is happy to agree with that suggestion, and looks over to Connor, again.

“Yeah, of course. He can still school your ass between commercials, though. You need to be taught a lesson.“

“Do I?”

Apparently. Hank seemed adamant about it.

Connor doesn’t know what they’re talking about, until the end of shift, when Hank invites him to come hang out.

It’s been quite a while since the had time to- if two weeks counts as ‘a while’. For Connor, yes, and it’s been *agony*.

“We’re like 11 episodes behind. It’ll take forever to catch up.”

“It’s an old show, Lieutenant, these are all reruns.”

“Yeah, but I’m on a schedule here.”

Hank fiddles with a pen he’s been in a stealing war with Nines over.
“I promised to show you all the good movies I watched as a kid, and that’s not including the fuckin’ thousands of shit they’ve made since. Times wasting.”

At that, Connor feels... nervous.

“Why rush it?”

Hank would have years worth of media to introduce him to, and realistically, they weren’t going to catch up on everything between work, stasis, and life. He’d have to stay over for several hours every day, and that was obviously not going to happen.... It hasn’t been that way

since his new deviancy days.

However, the thought of them hurrying this along, no matter how impossible it’d be to finish it soon, worried him. Everyday, Nines and Hank’s relationship continued to grow. It’s wasn’t about some causal dating anymore. What excuse would Connor have

to come over when there were no more movies left to watch? They didn’t have the same taste in music, or in sports. Sumo wasn’t his dog, and he couldn’t go over there everyday just to give him a few pats on the head. Once Nines comes to stay, Connor is out for good.

He is suddenly bitterly aware that that key Nines carries around with him belongs to Hank’s house. He’d always known, really, but he’d stopped himself from ever giving it too much thought.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride- If you’re up for it, I mean. It is gettin’ kind of late-“

“Yes, I’d like that.” He blurts before he can reason that-

Shit. Nines would most certainly be there.

Hank had mentioned it during lunch. Obviously he didn’t really expect for Connor to do that ‘lecturing thing’, but that wasn’t Connor’s main issue.

Nines in general, was his main issue.

Hank was already throwing his coat on and jumping out of his chair.

It sounded so nice to picture himself there, again. Lounging on Hank’s couch with Sumo across his feet, laying over them and keeping them warm. Wasting away watching tv in

the comforting glow of Hank’s kitchen light. Surrounded by a wall of books behind him with pictures and memories. He remembered a time where he was free to wander down Hank’s hallway and tidy up his bed, while looking for Hank’s shoes for him- always late for work, his own worst

enemy. Now, Nines was the one who got to swing by and help push him out the door. Nines got to enjoy listening to Hank’s ridiculous- endearing- grumbling on the way to the station.

Every good memory he had of Hank was sullied with thoughts and visions of Nines, now.

Hank stands there, popping his collar, and waiting for Connor to join him.

He wants to, he *does*.

But, it’ll just be him thinking about the precious days when it was just two of them, with Nines lingering about.

Social protocols tell him it would be polite to continue and

follow Hank, and he agrees. He doesn’t want to make a rise out of this, because it’s really nothing- it’s just two friends hanging out on a couch, and maybe walking a dog for an hour.

Connor almost doesn’t say anything, but thinks that if he’s going to inevitably lose Hank, he

might as well do it now when things with Nines are becoming more serious, and can distract Hank from Connor’s absence. He’s sure it won’t be that much of a loss for him. If that’s true, maybe Connor doesn’t have to feel guilty for ditching his friend out of.... well, now, it was

definitely envy.

This isn’t about Hank anymore, though. Connor needs space. He needs to learn to breathe, again. He’s delving into a world of self-destruction that Hank and his boyfriend are at the center of.

He *hates* it, but he needs to stop.

Maybe after he’s made some new friends, or found a hobby he actually cares about, maybe they can go back to being close, again. Maybe Connor will come back a better friend.

“I, actually... I can’t make it today, Hank.”

The older man stares back at him, and the look on his face

hurts Connor more than months of his bitter loneliness combined. He’s never rejected him before- his best friend.

Connor immediately wants to take it all back and apologize a million times over. Hank’s happiness is infinitely more important to him than wallowing in his little

pity parties. He wanted to spend time with him for the first time in so long. Why didn’t he just agree?!

“Don’t worry, Detective.” A voice clear like a bell rings low behind Connor’s ear. There’s a hand on his shoulder that’s firm and grounding.

“I handled those records for you. Officer Miller has all the paperwork.”

“Oh.” It sounds squeakier than Connor is comfortable with, but he’s surprised he managed to utter anything at all.

Nines is at his back, lying him into a corner, and, he dare not say otherwise.

Every viscous fantasy he’s ever had about the man comes quickly flashing behind his eyes in full motion, and Connor is certain for one moment that he‘s just initiated one of those brutal, wild punishments he’s dreamed about them by simply denying Hank.

“Let’s go before someone finds you more work to do.”

“Oh.” It comes out squeakier the second time.

Connor is ‘helped’ from his chair by Nines’ guiding hand. It’s not exactly forceful- Connors aware it’s just his psyche that’s keeping him tethered.

He’d feel like he was walking straight into his untimely deactivation if Hank wasn’t there. This isn’t like those things he fantasized, because Hank was never around in those, and this isn’t make believe. For one thing, he never envisioned how he got himself into all those

scenarios with Nines. For another, Hank would never let anything so horrible happen to Connor- not even if he knew his dirty secret. But, the reality of what’s happening is making it very hard for Connor remind himself of that.

He feels like he’s fallen head under ice cold water

as he ‘willingly’ sits himself in Hank’s passenger seat. Nines sits across from him in the back, with a clear view of Connor.

There’s definitely no polite social protocol for tucking and rolling out of a moving vehicle, so Connor sits as Hank drives, statue still.

This isn’t anything to get worked up over- nothing is going to happen to him here. Hank is his safe place.

And Nines, who is sat behind him probably monitoring the pace of Connor’s pump, is the thing of his dark, bloody nightmares.

Well...

He needs to take another step away from the void. He’s overreacting, he’s projecting, he’s dreaming. But, instead of stepping back, Connor hovers one foot over the endless, black abyss, ready to go plunging into it at a moment’s notice.

Nines might be inclined to help with that.

“I haven’t watched this show before. I’ve decided our interests are too different, and that I won’t like it.”

It’s not meant as an insult. Coming from Nines, it’s just blunt honesty.

At least, Hank doesn’t seem offended- or maybe they’ve had this conversation already.

“Here that? He hasn’t even given it a try, and he’s ‘decided’ he’ll hate it.”

‘One can make an informative assumption based on one’s preferences and experiences alone.’ Connor means to say. What comes out instead is nothing, as he considers making an excuse for his final escape.

He comes up empty, since he doesn’t have any pets at home waiting on him, and work mates seem to be his only friends.

Nines says it instead. A bit pompously. Hank makes eyes at him in the rear view mirror, and when Nines chuckles back, Connor’s pump begins to pound.

He’s never heard him make that sound before- he didn’t know he was capable of it. It’s small and stunted, but it was a laugh. *Nines* laughed.

Connor buries his nails into his palm and stuffs his hands in his lap. This feels so....private. Like Connor shouldn’t be here.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do when they arrived- if he walked in there, he’d be agreeing to surrender himself to their mercy. He’d already come close to the verge of a humiliating breakdown in their company once.

But, when Hank pulls into the drive, Connor realizes

staying in the car isn’t an alternative, either. Especially with Nines back there waiting on him to leave first.

Which left running for his life out of the equation- Nines was faster, anyway.

Slowly, Connor opened his door and stepped out. As he figured, Nines waited

to follow behind.

He knew it wasn’t logical, that the things he’d conjured up in his head were just make-believe, but this felt terribly close to the real thing. If this was a trap, and Connor was being marched to his death by one overprotective boyfriend who was a good deal

stronger than him, than he would at least give his crazy fantasies props for never having Nines actually kill him in them.

“Well, I guess Nines won’t be joining us tonight- Since we have such bad fuckin’ taste.” Hank says as he fiddles with his keys in the lock. Connor joins him

on the stairs, staring at the back of his coat, while Nines stares at him. He feels stuck between two forces, one pulling him forward and the other pushing.
“That won’t stop us from enjoying my shitty childhood shows.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Nines informs him, moving around

Connor when the door clicks open.
“I’ll be here, just quietly.”

Hank snorts, slightly offended to be called ‘dramatic’ by him for the fifth time, now. Apparently, it must fit.

“Good- you better be. Quiet, I mean.”

Nines tilts his head.

It’s the equivalent to him rolling his eyes.

Connor knows he should say something. He’s been oddly quiet since he hopped in the car, and he’s making this awkward. He shuffles in, as Hank leads him inside.

The only thing he can think to say is something about the resident pup,

the only good thing they all have in common.

“I, uh, didn’t bring any treats for Sumo. He’ll be disappointed.” Normally Connor would come in with a pocketful- some for Hank to give him for later. But, he had no idea he would end up here tonight, between the two titans

of his tangled desires.

“Shit, don’t worry about it. He’ll just be happy to see you-“

On cue, Hank stepped aside to make way for Sumo, barreling down the hallway at the sound of Connor’s voice. For a long time, Connor didn’t know how to handle him. He’d only been sentient

a few days when he was seeing this creature capable of unconditional love in a new light.Connor barely knew what it was to love a favorite band.

With some practice, he got better at the proper technique for petting him, and began to learn about the joy of a pet’s companionship.

Playing fetch and tug-of-war, and being greeted at the door everyday with a happy ‘boof’ and great thump of his tail. Connor thought about getting a dog for himself, but decided his apartment was much too small, and his work a bit too demanding. Maybe someday.

He used to think ‘someday’ he’d be Sumo’s owner- That eventually he might move in and share some of the responsibility with Hank. Not so much it seems. If anything, that was an embarrassing fever dream so far out of left field, Connor was hopeless to try and salvage any dignity

from it. His heart was in the right place, but that didn’t explain how he could have given life to such a ridiculous thing.

Connor knelt down, feeling a rush of affection after all the emotional wreckage he’d had to waddle through in the weeks he’d been away. Sumo couldn’t be

happier to lick away his stress. He buried his wet nose in Connor’s ear, as the android reached around to give him a hug, and sniffed. It made Connor giggle and tuck his head into the fur of Sumo’s neck, shoulders hunching. There was no escaping that wet snout.

He would spend the rest of the evening cuddling the fluffy giant and nuzzling into him, if he could. He’d missed this more than he knew. Connor hoped it wasn’t the need to feel connected to something- if he was reaching out for touch through his friend’s dog, no matter how much

he loved him, then it would definitely not be healthy for him to indulge.

Connor remembered who was watching his little display and slowly pulled away, leaving him open to a ‘Sumo kiss’ on his cheek.

He hid his warm face away from their prying gaze, as he stood.

Struggling not to think about them standing there the whole time, while he put on a show for them.

He’s sure he’s awfully close to turning color, again, but Hank, thankfully, is merciful. He averts his eyes.

“I told you, didn’t I? He loves you.”

He begins to hang his coat and kick his shoes off. Nines moves past them and leaves down the hallway that Sumo came from. Connor tries not to stare as he goes. In this setting, Nines looks almost surreal. He’s sharp and industrial looking, and Hank’s house is about as homey

and comfortable as it gets. It’s also gotten a bit messier since he and Nines have started dating. Nines doesn’t derive pleasure from cleaning or other menial tasks. To be fair, Connor doesn’t, either- he only did when it was Hank he was working for. He gets it, though, Hank

is a grown man and Nines has his own agenda. The extra mess doesn’t bother the android. He got a full dose of the ‘mess’ humans were capable of when he visited that android landfill, and became decidedly less picky in the face of Hank‘s occasional pizza box hoarding.

What Connor doesn’t explain to Nines’ somewhat lacking social program, is that Hank would still benefit from a clean house, even if the mess is mostly harmless. He doesn’t clean it himself, because of personal issues. The days are short and tiring, and Hank doesn’t have all the

time in the world to worry about a clean floor. He needs to destress and enjoy a little time after work when he can, before he has to go to to sleep and do it all over, again. After weighing his options, relaxing wins out over scrubbing a dirty sink.

For Connor, it’s easier to do, and he would be happy to bring back some of the luster and shine. He’d be happy to have a reason to come and visit at all, and especially if it was to keep Hank in a healthier lifestyle- and, maybe also to spend some more time petting Sumo.

However, even if his romantic partner wasn’t hanging around, reminding Connor that he’s intruding here, Hank would still hate it if Connor slaved away like that. He always had.

If Connor hadn’t stopped coming over, maybe Hank would be easier to convince. The worst part was that

Hank had never asked him to stop coming. If anything, Connor was the one who was refusing to spend time over here, and... he was his own worst enemy, not Hank.

Not Nines.

The bigger android had yet to pounce and tear him to shreds like he’d imagined.

He might even prove to be civil. Maybe. Maybe he just hasn’t had the opportunity to set Connor straight with Hank around.

Hank rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, considerably more dressed in Connor’s presence than he used to be when they first got home.

“I’m gonna make something to eat, first. You wanna badger me about that?”

“You mean insist that you consume something with protein and iron to boost your deficiency? You wouldn’t listen. I can make a prediction, though.” Connor felt a little less restricted with Nines out of the

room.

“Oh, yeah? Go ahead smart guy.”
Hank reaches into the cabinet full of plates, pretending to be annoyed.

“I’m guessing something like....”

There’s a long pause and Hank knows what demon food he’s about to say.

“Don’t say pizza rolls.”

“And a... scotch to drink.”

“Wow!”

More like a flat beer. Hank had two androids to keep his eye on, and Connor knew he’d been cutting back on the heavier stuff. His attempts had finally paid off, and Connor knew Hank was keeping a keen eye on himself, now. It was a slippery slope, and good company was such

a good time to go slipping. Connor couldn’t be more proud when Hank had told him, though. He tried not to put too much pressure on the man to overdo it, but Hank didn’t seem bothered when Connor turned into an emotional praise dispenser when he told him the good news.

In fact, Hank became quite pleased with himself afterward- regardless of how irritated he pretended to be with Connor’s admiring gaze upon him.

“Jesus, I sound like a man-child in these predictions of your’s.” Hank scoffs.

Connor looks pleased with that revelation.

“Not so much on the liquor, though. Nines is a bigger ball and chain about that shit than you are.”

“I don’t tolerate drunken behavior.” Nines’ voice carries from down the hall, as he briefly enters the bathroom. Connor is suddenly having that sinking feeling again that

this is something private- that he isn’t meant to be here. He shuts his mouth, when the taller android enters the room.

Nines comes back with his sleeves rolled up, his jacket off, and.... wow, Nines has a throat.

Connor blinks stupidly, because *of course* he does.

He’s just never seen it, and....

He swallows. There’s a lot of skin there.

It’s not nearly as speckled as his, but it’s the same color, with the same creamy smooth appearance. Connor has never seen him so undressed, and Ra9, it’s only his throat. If Connor doesn’t feel

he should be here, it’s his own fault. Just like everything else, *he* was the one making such a big deal out of everything. Nines has a right to be comfy and undo those buttons, and....

Bare that long column of pale flesh. More skin seems to complement his

eye color, and that’s an odd thought.

Nines catches him staring.

Connor jerks away, then wills himself to turn back, and be brave.

“Have you also given up monitoring his diet?” Nines mercifully doesn’t comment on his staring, and Connor thinks that might be worse. He is

prepared to be broken and debauched by Nines at any point and time, and he is not prepared for anything kinder.

Connor thinks he’s about to spend the evening walking on eggshells in the only place he’s ever considered a home.

“I, well...” Yes, he’s had to stop. He can’t be here

to help Hank with that, anymore.

“I’m a grown fucking man! I can make my own damn choices!” Hank yells, and definitely does not linger on the pizza rolls in the freezer.

“I’m strict about his vitamins and shakes- he has no say about those. I wash my hands of the rest.”

Connor never thought to include vitamins into Hank’s diet. He’d be happier seeing him eat green things and clear liquids, but vitamins offer another kind of benefit.

“No, he does *not*” Hank suddenly says, as he snaps the freezer door shut.

“Don’t let him fool you, Con. He has a wicked way of punishing me when I eat too much shit.”

Honestly, that both worries and relieves him. Connor was fearing for Hank’s health at this point, as he only has time anymore to monitor his lunch breaks- and not even that with

with Nines joining in on those, now.

Connor goes to look curiously over at Nines and wonder about these punishments of his, when he feels a weight on his other side on the couch, and his pump nearly freezing over.

“I prefer the ‘clockmaker’ approach.” Nines says cooly, and it’s

right there at Connor’s ear. He turns and startles when he sees Nines, who has managed to squeeze the little ways in between him and the armrest without touching him.
“I keep him maintained and wind him up, before turning him loose. He’s left to his own devices and-“

“Long as i live up to your expectations, I’m a free man. I’m his fucking experiment, Connor. Get me out of here.”

“Do you prefer Connor mother you, instead?”

Connor feels quite opposed to their sudden proximity.

Hank isn’t about to go picking between two evils.

Instead, he’d rather let slip his fondness for each in as subtle a way as possible.

“It’s not that bad. You should try it sometime, Nines- let Connor mother you. There’s plenty of shit you need straightened out, and I ain’t the guy to do it. Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone else to think for you.”

“No thank you, Lieutenant. I prefer a more dominant role in my future. Besides,” Nines reaches down to pat Sumo’s head as he trudges by.
“Who would take care of Connor?”

Connor feels like reality is imploding in on itself, and he’s trapped at the heart of it.

He wants to go back to his apartment, now, or work, or a crime scene. Anywhere else. His core temperature is noticeably higher.

He feels like he’s being boxed in. Nines is right there next to him, and Hank is-

No longer in the kitchen. He’s sitting on Connor’s other side.

Connor thinks he’s finally managed to fall inside the abyss, and is slowly being swallowed whole. He has no idea what the final push will be, but he knows it’s coming. He knows.

Just stay calm. They’re all friends and acquaintances here- there’s no need to get... frazzled.

“You’re not eating?” Connor asks meekly, as Hank settles in.

“You know, I’m not as hungry as I thought I was when I’ve got a couple of metal assholes judging me from the living room.”

“That’s your choice, then.”

Hank crosses his arms over his chest.
“I know that, *Ni*.”

Connor balls his fists up in his slacks.

“I thought you weren’t joining us?” Hank says, as he looks over him- sitting stiff as a board- and trying to keep the yellow glow on his temple from hitting Nines’ face. There’s no way to dull the intensity, so he leans

back into the couch.

“I decided joining you would prove much more interesting, than I anticipated.” Nines says.

He’d decided around the time he’d caught Connor staring at him.

“Fine, but don’t say any shit about Daria. You’re a cynical asshole, even when you like something.”

“What proof have you?” Nines tilted his chin up- another almost eye roll.

“Well, me, for one. You like me, but you give me shit *all* the time.”

Connor thinks Hank is considerably more loose with his private life when they’re at home, which isn’t surprising.

Only he wonders if Hank’s just already forgotten that he’s there. This is way too personal for him, he shouldn’t be here, but *definitely* not in the middle of it.

“Should I, uh, trade places with Nines?”

Connor nearly jumps out of his skin and sticks to the ceiling when

slender fingers wrap around one forearm, and chill him to the shell.

“You’re fine right there.” Nines hums, and oh, Jesus, is this another test?

Connor thinks as long as he keeps his mouth shut, and his back straight under Nines’ firm hand, like he had at

the station, he’ll pass.

It’s when that hand lets go and moves to the back of the couch that Connor begins to feel the void consume him.

The way his stomach is fluttering and flipping, Connor thinks that he’s going to fall right through the couch.

Nines *touched* him.

There’s a warmth on one foot, then the other, and Connor looks down to see Sumo stretching out to cover them up.

Sumo- his lifeline. Just focus on the fluffy boy down there.

Sumo sighs and snuggles close to Connor’s shins. He’s heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable.

If anything, it offers Connor this security he didn’t have before. He can think about his big, furry friend, and the heat that he generates. The new position may trap him further into the couch, but it’s so pleasant and solid. His friend is still here

for him, and so is Hank- even if he has no clue what Connor’s up against. He wonders if Sumo can sense his distress and sense he needs comforting.

Whatever the reason, Connor is safe. He’s going to be ok.

His ring returns blue, as he begins to feel like he can ‘breathe’, again.

The tv drones on and he ignores whatever’s happening on it in favor of enjoying his place here. This isn’t exactly how he remembered it, but it’s mostly all there. Sumo at his feet, his body melting into the couch, and just relaxing.

Hank’s weight dipping into the side of his leg, and warming him there. His scent carries over the small distance and Connor flushes at the way the lavender rinse washes over him and fills him up. His lips tilt upward, as he admires Hank’s fondness for botanicals- fragrances and

patterns, the man loves flowers of every kind in every way. A child of earth.

It isn’t the most pleasant inspiration, but it reminds him of his mother.

Connor swoons.

Thankfully, there’s the couch behind him to keep him grounded.

He settles deeper into the cushions. He’s not paying any attention to the woman on screen. All that matters is his place here he feels he’s finally earned back. Hank is beside him, letting Connor lean into him. Sumo’s on his feet thumping his tail when someone makes a comment.

Nines has indeed turned out to be civil for the period of Connor’s stay. Maybe they can do this, again. Maybe Nines will let him. If Connor behaves himself, maybe Nines will let him keep his pitiful yearning in the dark.

They can coexist, and Connor can live in the world he’s made that caters to his sweetest dreams.

He’s gone comfortably numb by the time they hear Hank’s stomach grumbling.

“You need to eat.” Nines says it a bit too firmly. Connor knows why.
“You get fussy when you’re hungry.”

“Fus- the fuck, I do!”

“You do, Hank. You get very grumpy when you skip meals.” Connor is surprised to hear how lazy his voice comes out. His vocalizers are a bit sluggish, for some reason.

“Yes, *Hank*. We don’t want you to get crotchety.” Nines adds with a hint of amusement,

but Connor’s rather stuck on the fact he’s sure he’s never heard him use Hank’s name before.

Without warning, a terrible, horrible thought worms it’s way into his head, and then Connor is back in the abyss, sunk up to his neck.

Nines must use it when they’re intimate.

That’s not any of Connor’s business, he *knows*, but he can’t help wondering.

Nines must call him ‘Hank’ while he’s clinging to him, damp with Hank’s sweat and tucked against his chest.

Connor’s throat constricts.

Maybe, he doesn’t- maybe ‘Lieutenant’ suits them both just fine. Maybe there’s a thrill in using his title in the bedroom- which Connor may or may not have wondered about himself. Was Nines like that, was he into those kinds of things?

This was wrong. Everything was going well, despite however weird Connor’s been making things in his mind. The other men are just fine. He’s not supposed to be thinking about them like this- Curious about whether Nines likes to have Hank’s large hands on him, feeling him out.

God, Connor had given some thought to those hands himself. Where Nines would be steady and certain, would Hank be eager and explorative? Would he want to learn more about Connor, while Nines had already come equipped to know everything? He knew Connor’s plastimetal like the back

of his hand- he was the upgraded version of it. He knew where Connor was weaker, where he could *bend* him.

“I’m about to get pissed, is that better?” Hank grumbles.

With descriptors like ‘fussy’ and ‘dramatic’, he’s starting to reconsider things between him and this

rude toaster.

“In front of present company? You’re a terrible host.” Before Hank can argue Connor should be expected to sit through his ‘fussing’ after he’d signed up to be his friend, Nines is nudging the smaller android off of him.

It takes Connor a moment to realize to his

utter, crushing horror that he’d been leaning back into his arm, by the way Nines has to pull it out from him. Connor opens his mouth to apologize, when Nines shoves a hand in front of his face, making panic rise in his chest.

He should have been more careful. He should have-

“Will you join me in making our Lieutenant something to eat? Something that isn’t frozen garbage.”

Connor stands, before he can fully process the request, getting a big boof out of Sumo, who is abruptly pushed off his feet. Connor scrambles to pet him back down to atone

for his terrible sin. He obliged, but Connor was making quite a mess of things, none of which went unnoticed by Nines.

Hank grumbled, again, but oblivious to Connor’s floundering. He’d always thought the other was a giant dork, anyway, and wouldn’t be bothered by him

causing a ruckus. Nines, however, is not so eager to overlook things, as Connor’s odd behavior only serves to fuel his curiosity. He wants to satisfy some questions that dearly need answering, but every second in Connor’s company here only generates more.

While Nines is programmed to make an accurate reconstruction, he isn’t content with that for once. The idea thats wedged it’s way in his plastimetal skull needs a lot more rounding out if he’s to be sure.

Connor’s quiet demeanor is odd. Nines has always seen him behave

very socially in all the time he’s known him- and especially so when it’s just him and the Lieutenant. He’s painfully quiet tonight, which is strange since they’re in a private setting. It’s apparent to Nines’ that his presence here is keeping Connor

from being comfortable with Hank.

He‘d figured as much to some extent or another. Hank and Gavin dealt with him on the regular and proved to be the most capable of being ‘comfortable’ in Nines’ presence. He’d never taken the time to analyze Connor’s feelings in particular, but

whatever they were, they definitely didn’t fall between being ‘comfortable’ or not. Maybe Nines would have thought so if there wasn’t the issue of his blatant staring and nervous fidgeting.

‘Why?’, Nines wonders. He knows he has a certain aura about him that is

very unapproachable for some. But, Connor has never seemed to have an issue handling him before, whether he was secretly uncomfortable around Nines or not. It never stopped him from being himself before, had it?

Maybe, this was just a good front.

Still, beside all that, there’s the soft, fleeting stares Connor has been giving them, and his unusual clumsiness- both are questionable.

There’s one option, but it feels like it’s reaching just a bit. Despite Nines’ doubt, though, if this were any other situation, this option

seems to fit, curiously enough.

He reviews everything, fills in a few more gaps, and now he’s sure of it.

Nines has interesting understanding of what’s happening here. Even lacking some key details, it’s all really quite obvious. It’s a good thing nothing surprises him.

Nines doesn’t linger- he turns away, expecting Connor to follow.

He does, wetting his lips and trailing behind like a stray lamb.
“What do you suggest we make?”

“If you don’t mind being put to work, tilapia.”

“You serious, Ni?” Hank says, perking up from the couch.

“I thought you were saving that for our, uh... for later.”

“I think tonight is a special enough occasion, don’t you? We certainly have good company.”

Hank seems as confused by Nines’ choice as Connor does- it’s not a quick meal, for one, and a bit ‘elegant’ for the older man’s

tastes. A special dinner for a special date, then.

Hank looks at Connor and promptly shuts his mouth when he catches his gaze.

“Yeah, definitely, I mean... It’s the best kind of company, so...”

Nines is content enough with that and sets to work. Hank doesn’t know what the look

he gave him meant, but he turns back to the tv to try and mind his own business, before he reads too far into things.

However, Connor feels anything but at ease. When he’s sure Hank won’t notice, he leans in and whispers in a voice too soft for him to hear.

“I don’t want to intrude, Nines. If this is for a special occasion-“

“It was my suggestion.” Nines doesn’t out him and graciously whispers back. The small kindness makes Connor think a little harder about how close they’re standing.

“And yes, I intended to prepare the fish myself as a... treat.”

Connor can draw his own conclusions- he knows this was meant to be personal. What he doesn’t understand is why Nines is hesitating to say as much. He’d never restrained himself for someone else’s sake

before, certainly not Connor’s, but why he felt the need to be wary talking about his relationship in front of Connor was....troublesome. Considering Hank has been extremely lax about it.

Nines hadn’t picked up on anything Connor, had he?

No. Definitely not.

He wouldn’t be sparing Connor simple mercies if he thought the other was harboring a secret crush on his boyfriend. He’d be wrapping a wire around his neck and garroting him, is what he’d be doing.

Connor thinks he’s about to have his first android-equivalent anxiety attack.

He fumbles around the kitchen, trying not to step on Nines’ shoes and complicate the process. It’s plenty big enough for the two of them, but Connor feels like he’s always in the way no matter where he stands.

Despite him claiming he’d to be put to work, Nines has been handling

most everything by himself. From cleaning the fish, to oiling the skillet and frying it. Probably because it was supposed to be for a special occasion , and Connor’s presence here is ruining that.

Nines said he wasn’t overstepping, but he’s done little to let Connor

prove himself useful. He thinks better than saying so, of course. He’s felt like a burden on the taller android, since he’d hopped in Hank’s car with them.

Though, if Nines agrees with that, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.

He completes the recipe in perfect timing

and plates the tilapia, putting on the finishing touches. Nines finally acknowledges Connor’s presence there since he’d first started.
“Oh, Connor, I have thirium here. You’re welcome to it.”

Connor pulls a knife and fork out of a drawer and reaches for a napkin- Not that Hank’s

likely to use it. The thought of drinking from the same thirium Nines uses to supply himself after sex and maintenance both repulses and excites him.

“You’ll have to use one of our cups for it- it’s in bag form. The individual cartons take up too much space.”

“In my empty ass fridge.” Hank mumbles, knowing they’ll be able to hear. They’ve clearly fussed with each other about this, before.

Nines ignores him, turning his eyes on Connor, who’s struggling to find a ‘thank you’ appropriate enough to fit past his inferiority complex and

without sounding like such a meager offer flatters him as much as it does. Coming from Nines, though, Connor is much too affected by it.

Nines doesn’t break, but his eyes look unusually dull in the kitchen light- Connor was used to them stabbing at him like knives.

“You should leave your mug over here- so, you’ll have your own container.” He says as he squeezes a lemon over the fish.

Connor is suddenly very interested in the table cloth. He knows which mug Nines means.

Is he calling him out? Is he mad that Hank gave him that?

Why does Nines want to keep ahold of it- he *must* be mad.Whatever he’s picked up on of Connor’s feelings, he must know Hank would never return them. It was just a gift between friends, no matter what Connor feels about it. He must know Connor doesn’t intend to... to ‘act’ on it.

No amount of desperation could....

Connor can’t think too hard about this. He has enough self awareness to know he’s got a habit of overshooting things, and he could easily be misreading this.

But, *if* he’s not... Connor doesn’t want to lose what little piece of Hank

he has left. Connor doesn’t know when he started to roll over like a lame dog for his successor, but he can’t let Nines have this- not his special Valentine’s mug.

“That’s alright.” He says cautiously. He doesn’t think Hank’s presence here can protect him any longer.

“I... replenished myself this morning.”

The taller man snorts and moves past him to wash his hands.
“You sound like Hank. You should keep your reserves at maximum. You’ll run more efficiently that way.”

Connor stares at his back, then at the fish.

“I’ve noticed your movements have been a bit stilted all night.”

Connor’s pump pulses. He wonders if Hank has seen the ‘difference’, too- however Nines means that. What else has he has noticed?

Hank makes a small, interested sound from the sofa and then leans over the armrest

to catch Connor’s attention.
“Yeah, you’re a little stiff. I used to think you were always kinda stiff, until I met Nines. Now I got something to compare you to.”

Nines cocks his head, deadpan look in his eye. Hank gestures as if to prove his point.

Connor‘s not sure how to feel about them keeping tabs on him all night and silently curses himself for giving two detectives a thread to pick at when he wasn’t careful.

“Hey, so that day you came into work looking shit-faced, and like you’d just ran a mile- was that because you’d let your reserves get low?” Hank wonders.

Connor knows exactly when he’s referring to and feels horribly embarrassed by it. That was not because of low reserves,

although they were low at the time, and it didn’t helped. That was because of a rough night, of a rough day, of a rough week. He’d caught Hank and Nines’ ‘harmless’ flirting blossom for the first time into actual *touching*. Nines helped him up off the ground after they took

cover, and the two remained holding hands for 11 seconds- one millisecond longer than Connor could physically handle. That turned into a frustrating night of fisting his own cock and wishing it was Hank’s hand instead- leaving him heavy with guilt in the aftermath. That was also

the night he’d realized how far he’d finally fallen.

Connor feels disoriented and as close as he’ll be able to come to feeling nauseous.
“Yes... that was it... I... I’m certainly at my worst like that, it seems.”

“Then drink.” Nines insists, standing behind him

and setting the table. If he put in this much effortless-effort, then Hank was going to eat at the table.

Nines left Connor to choose for himself about the thirium.

Connor decided that if tv time was over and dinner was starting, it was soon nearing bedtime. And, Connor

didn’t want to stay long enough to give an awkward goodbye while the pair slowly inched closer towards the bedroom.

He was wrong. Connor could come much closer to feeling nauseous than he originally thought.

“Actually, I... I think I should-“

“Hank, come sit. I want to tell you about the adventure I had today after lunch.”

Connor knew Nines didn’t make a habit of interrupting people. If he wasn’t interested, he usually let them wear themselves out while he stared blankly ahead. A few minutes of talking to Nines’

dead shark stare was fairly effective at ending a conversation. But, he’d interrupted Connor several times tonight, and all the other could reasonably assume was he should try and keep his mouth shut.

Slowly, Connor takes a seat at the table, after Hank scoots in

and is denied a beer.

“Not with guests over.” Nines says. Connor could hardly count for a ‘guest’- he was Hank’s best friend. Either Nines was trying to erase his identity to Hank, or he wanted everyone to sit there on edge for the rest of dinner while he made them behave

to his benefit. Neither was preferable.

Hank shakes his head, probably wanting to revisit that argument about making his own choices, but somewhat obeys. He’s going to have a beer after he finishes his water, and that’s final.

“Alright, warden. What was this ‘adventure’ of yours today?”

“Don’t chew and talk, you’ll bite your tongue.”

“And you complained about Connor being motherly...”

Nines crosses his arms and leans over the table, clearly unaffected. Connor half expected him to stay standing over

them like a gargoyle. He’s determined to look as pleasant as one can while under the threat of opening his mouth the wrong way.

“Well, you’ll be as interested as I was to know that Detective Reed confessed to eating one of my chocolates, today.”

“No shit?” Hank doesn’t ask what Nines told him about it. Gavin has been shooting them curious looks for weeks, now, and Hank knew it was only a matter of time before he put to and to together, like Connor had. Nines was his partner, after all.

“He took one from my desk after I returned from our break with them. Apparently, it never crossed his mind that they may have thirium in them.”

Nines recalled the fuss Gavin made in the car on the way to the station, as he mocked Gavin for being so brainless.

‘You ph’ckers look so real! I forget sometimes you aren’t people, *Jesus*...’

Nines didn’t correct him with the term ‘human’- androids *were* people.

But, he knew what Gavin meant.

Though, after the quite telling events of tonight and his new revelation, Nines began to wonder

something he hadn’t at the time.

He looks at Connor, chin tilted forward. It makes his eyes look less foreboding when they’re hidden from the light, but Connor still suppresses a shiver.

“I didn’t even notice that one was missing,” He’d been running on a bit of a head rush at

the fact that Hank had just given him his first present.Specifically a romantic one.

“I don’t know what possessed Gavin to confess to it, now, Valentine’s Day was weeks ago. But, it does make me think- I wish that I’d have saved one for you.” He says looking pointedly at Connor.

Connor’s eyes go wide, his composure melting away. He twitches in his seat, struggling to keep Nines’ gaze.

He... wished he’d have given him a chocolate?...

Connor blinks- it feels like such a random confession that he thinks he’d just imagined hearing it, but one look at Hank

proves it’s all too real.

He’s nodding along, stuffing another bite in his mouth.
“Yeah, I thought about getting you some, too, but you seemed to really like that skunk mug, so...” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes on the table.

Connor looks helplessly between them,

not sure how he’s supposed to suppress the stutter in his pump at hearing such a proclamation come from the mouths of the two objects of his confusing affection. They wished they had offered him chocolates on Valentine’s Day.... What was he supposed to do with this information

besides *panic*? Hank was one thing entirely, but was *Nines* serious?

He can feel himself blushing, and that only makes it worse. Nines’ stare is unwavering.

“You think Con would have liked one?” Hank asks, turning to Nines.

Connor nearly blurts out ’Why?’, why would they even say something like that when there was so many implications there that they couldn’t mean. But, Nines’ eyes are pinning Connor to his seat and keeping his mouth shut.

Something uncomfortably warm settles over him- a bizarre

sort of energy buzzing around his skull and making his pump feel as if it might beat right out of his chest when Nines speaks.

“I think neither of us are a good judge of what Connor likes. But, I certainly enjoyed them- For more reasons than just you two picking them.”

Hank furrows his brow, trying to process this, taking a moment to dig under the not so subtle layer there, as Connor goes totally blank, aware Nines is gauging him. Hank shoots a quizzical look over at him, but the android offers no explanation.

He has no doubt this is a test of some kind, as Connor’s pump threatens to burst. He should have known Nines would find out sooner or later that he was hiding something, but he wonders what actually gave him away. His own nerves? The slightly defensive attitude

he must have failed to keep under wraps when he’s around? Maybe he was just more obvious than he thought.

What he really doesn’t understand is why he isn’t being ‘punished’ for it. Yet.

Nines has short of a thousand reasons to, ranging from Connor sitting quietly through Gavin

flapping his gums earlier, talking about Hank ‘charming the panties off’ of him- which he had definitely heard him say- to realizing Connor has been harboring secret feelings of some kind for them, sneaking around right under his nose.

*Did* Nines know it was ‘them’, or did he think it was just Hank?

Had he seen the way Connor had been staring at his throat earlier? To be fair, Connor’s relationship with the feelings he has for Nines is a confusing, dysfunctional one as it is-

it’s possible he doesn’t know that part.

Connor has no way of being sure what exactly Nines‘ picked up on, and chooses not to assume anything. Either was a torturous thought, but Connor really hoped in a twisted sort of way that everything was just out there now, so he wouldn’t

have to relive another terrifying discovery later.

Connor thinks if he spends one more second of his short life thinking about what-if’s and waiting for the unsightly outcome, he’s going to short out and self-destruct. It makes him think about how Hank would use to drink

too much to reach a morbid means to an end and thinks this form of psychological destruction isn’t terribly different. He’s wasting away from the horrors he’s created for himself- painting Nines out to be some kind of steel eyed demon, and Hank to be his unrequited Aphrodite.

Which is completely complicated now by the fact that Nines had just unironically said he’d wished he done something honest and nice for him.

That in mind, Connor would rather chuck his pump across the room than explore any of that at Hank’s dinner table with his ‘executioner’

sitting across from him. He needed to be alone to process all of this before he let his brain twist and distort it.

There was one way out of here, but it would leave him with even more problems come the morning. He takes in the pair of eyes watching him bounce and wiggle

in his seat and thinks ‘so be it’.

“I-It’s getting late.” Connor forces out, and Nines holds his gaze unblinkly. However, the slim trace of a smile on his face Connor hadn’t noticed before begins to slip.

It *was* dark outside, and it’d been so for a while, now, but the timing

couldn’t be more suspicious. He was acting like a trapped animal.

“I should... I should go home.” He says to Hank, because he’s easier to look at. He can feel the flush in his face spread down towards his collar.

‘Home’ was not an apartment. It was everything Connor had hoped

this place would be someday. A big, slobbering pup following him around while he tidied Hank’s home a bit. The bigger man yelling through the thin walls whenever he stepped on a wet sock or pair of boxers Sumo’d gotten ahold of. Connor imagined tramping barefoot

through the kitchen and living room, carefully carting a mug of fresh coffee for Hank to grab, while Sumo tangled between their legs to vie for their attention.

Sumo was a ball of excitement when Connor first met him, trailing close behind wherever he went and even whining

when it was time for him to leave.

Connor would miss being missed when this was all over, but he knew his sudden escape wouldn’t be well received, judging by the looks he was receiving.

Nines had gone very quiet and, if Connor didn’t know better, looked a little taken aback.

There’s just too much for him to make sense of right now, and Connor *needs* to leave. He needs to make sense of this somewhere private, because right now his circuits feel totally fried between his hot face and the literal gears in his head whirring to exhaustion.

He knows he’s reading things wrong with them and is still struggling to understand why Nines is handling this new information about Connor’s feelings so ‘well’- and why he isn’t outing him.

Has Hank already picked up on something, too? Are they teasing him?

No, he needs to *think* first- he’s not up to his normal speed under pressure like this. Which is infuriating in its own way when he’s able to stands pridefully against the perils and stress of bullet wounds, deranged convicts, and Gavin on a daily basis.

“Uh, you sure?” Hank finally says. They’d only just finished dinner and Connor wanted to go.

Nines looked none to pleased by this announcement, either- lips quirking down in a scowl.

“I, yes, I’m sorry. I haven’t, I -“ Connor abruptly cuts off, distracted by Nines shooting a look over at Hank. He returns it, and Connor can’t make anything out of it- only that they didn’t look particularly put out with him, per say. More like disappointed and... something else

Connor must be imagining.

Hank looks back and sees Connor fidget in his seat and tries to reel it back in a bit. Just because he wasn’t ready for Connor to go yet, didn’t mean he wanted to get him worked up about it. Connor was a creature of empathy and prone to his guilt trips

in a similar way that Hank was.

“Yeah, uh, ok. It is late, isn’t it?”

He smiled, a small but welcoming thing, and Connor had that terrible guilt in his chest again that he was abandoning him.

He just had an overload of things to work out he couldn’t even begin to with them there.

The whole chocolates thing.... and... literally *everything* else. Connor’s simulated blush was bordering on turning blue, now.

“I enjoyed it, I... I’ve just been putting off stasis for a while.” He stutters.

Hank tries to look understanding while Nines fights the barest hint of amusement from his face at that.

“Yeah, I did kind of spring it on you today, huh? It’s cool.” Hank mumbles.

“Thank you for joining us this evening, Connor.” Nines says, standing from the table with a hand out in an offer to walk Connor to the door. Pleasantries aren’t his forte, but Nines isn’t about to squander his failure here tonight anymore than he has.

He knows he isn’t wrong about Connor, he knows he’s read everything right. And, this news about his predecessor is going to demand a greater emphasis on his attention- especially now that his attempts to get somewhere with it has only ended up running him off.

The last thing he wanted was to put a damper on Hank’s happiness by scaring off the one friend he has that he actually cares about- more than cares.

In his only defense, Nines hadn’t imagined bold, brazen Connor would turn away from a head on attempt. He wished more than ever he

had Connor’s social cues that developed easily after his deviancy- More than when Hank first started showing an interest in him. At least with Hank he hadn’t shied away from Nines’ forwardness and explained to him when he’d fucked up

something, as did Gavin in his own special way. Connor, however, was trying to flee at the first sign of ‘danger’.

Was he just put off by Nines, or was he shy?

No, it was more complicated than that. Nines miscalculated *something* somewhere.

“It’s been very enlightening.” He says slowly, lost in his own head and sounding a little manual.

Connor feels a chill run over him, though he’s no longer receiving the vibe that he’s overstayed his welcome here. If anything he feels like he’s missing something very important.

It’s now dire he gets to somewhere private to think things through.

He smiles pleasantly, though it feels painful and forced, and Nines must notice, as he doesn’t return it. He only steps aside to let Hank say his goodbyes so he can hide his frustration with himself by finding

something to occupy his attention.

He’d seen Connor hold up exceptionally well under stress, life or death scenarios especially. Nines admired that he chose to stay in a high stress, high risk job like this after establishing his sentience. With deviation came a new appreciation

for self preservation, but Connor had still chosen to stay a cop- clearly he hadn’t feared the mortality rate.

Here he was, though, obviously trying to make the escape he’d been planning all evening- excluding their peaceful time on the couch, Nines suspected- all because he had

pushed too hard. He was built for success, to adapt and conquer... yet, Connor seems to be his first actual challenge.

He lets Hank have his time alone with Connor so he can mull things over. It will certainly make his attempt trickier the next time, and it’s imperative Nines

takes time to decide a new course of action and adjust to it.

His bluntness is a part of him, but Connor seems.... intimidated by it in this context. He needs to get his foot in the door before he starts exploring the confusing bouts of arousal Connor has been displaying towards

him all evening- means next time: no flirting about chocolates...

He hears them talking in low murmurs by the door. It’s clear that Nines company *was* the reason for Connor’s discomfort during his stay. As always, he isn’t surprised... but he is

becoming steadily more frustrated.

He tries to focus on what they’re saying, as he leaves to stand somewhere down the hallway and away from them. The last thing he needs to do right now is think about his place in all this, and start getting himself... confused.

He’s got a plan and he needs to focus his attention there.

“You should come back soon.” Hank says, nudging Connor’s shoulder.
“We haven’t hung out in a while.”

Connor agrees, but feels like he’s just going through the motions. His processors are unbearably sluggish

tonight- ever since Nines put an arm around him.

“Absolutely, Hank. I’ve certainly missed it.”
Yet, he’s still here trying to make a break for it.

Connor wants to say something comforting- he hasn’t struggled with that before, but now he’s not sure what he can say after

the events of tonight. And, Nines has even removed himself from their company.

“Maybe you can come to my apartment next time.” He murmurs, clasping his hands together.

For a while there, he’d expected Hank’s company to be a sure thing. He bothered to get someplace with a

bathroom and a fridge assuming Hank would be using it. Obviously, that hadn’t turned out well.

Connor doesn’t actually expect Hank to take him up on it. It’s just an out for Nines if anything, as Connor won’t be intruding in his space there.

Only Hank looks like he’s actually considering it.

Down the hallway Nines perks up. That is a much better idea- Connor will feel safer in his own house. He’ll have security and space if he needs it, and Hank and Nines will be guests there on his own terms.

Yes, he agrees with this, it’s bound to produce the most results. Nines has no problem arranging the times, but knows it’ll be best for Hank to initiate that conversation, as Connor had technically passed the invitation to him.

Now, there’s just the matter of the long, painful talk Nines needs to have with Hank.

Connor leaves after that without even telling Sumo bye. He’s anxious about Nines absence, presuming he’s made a bigger mess for himself come their next shift together than he knows.

Though, right now he just needs to focus on sitting through a ride in an auto-taxi in a state of extreme bewilderment without letting his mind run away from him.

The more distance he puts between himself and Nines, the easier it is for Connor to lose touch with the reality

of things. He realizes his violent fantasies have become a crutch with which he uses to escape, to keep from thinking about the truths that are much harder for him to accept- That Hank and Nines don’t even spare a single thought about him once he’s out of the picture.

Once it’s just the two of them, Hank forgets he has a best friend he used to spend eve weekend with. It’s almost nicer to believe Nines is his nightmare man, bent on seeking his demise, than it is to believe the two men barely remember he exists when he’s gone.

Connor officially decides to set an appointment up for Josh to tap into whatever wires he’s got mixed up in his post deviancy that made him throwout his programmed rationality in order to exist happily being someone’s punching bag. Even if it’s only that way in his head.

He needs to remind himself *realistically* that that could have gone better, but it hadn’t been bad. He made it weird, but Hank showed the utmost patience with him. Sumo enjoyed his stay there, and... Nines was quite cordial with him.

The closer he gets to home, the closer Connor comes to breaching the final threshold. He’s held it back for as long as he can, but with the space between them growing and the street he lives on coming into view, his resolve is beginning to crumble.

What he *really* wants to think about right now isn’t that weird instance with the chocolate, or Nines’ insistence to get him to Hank’s house in the first place.

What he wants to think about are the things he tries his hardest not to give in to.

Things much less forgivable than having this no-longer-secret crush of his, or those violent daydreams.

What he wants to think about is how close Hank had come to touching his hand at his side. How close their shoulders were when they bumped, and their knees pressed.

Connor had never come that close to having their sides nearly flush together in a long time.

And, Nines with his arm *around* him- there was no imaging that. Nines *had* touched him. Maybe he didn’t mean to get all cozy like Hank had

when Connor leaned into it, but it had happened.

Ra9, how could he have let it, though? Of all the moments to get tangled up in his head, that was the by far the most dangerous.

But... when Nines had told him to *stay*, when he reached out and wrapped his fingers

around Connor’s arm, that *was* real. That was intentional. Nines didn’t do anything he didn’t mean to.

These are the last things he needs to be thinking about with his tendency to romanticize things and twist them, but there’s only one way to stop it.

Connor steps out of the auto-cab in a daze and begins the short journey up the stairs of the complex.

Nines was quite hospitable to him to his surprise. It couldn’t last, of course. Connor had to remind himself that Nines was just playing good host- Ignoring how

unaccustomed to that kind of social programming as Nines was for the sake of the argument. It was just a show, Connor insisted, because that’s all it could logically be. Right?

When he was locked away in his tight little room, too lost to think about the

crazy ‘neighbors’ surrounding him on either side, the darkness seeping through the blinds, Connor was finally left alone to his thoughts.

It wasn’t the kind that were spurred by anger, or envy, or yearning- the ones that carved Nines out to be this

viscous, spiteful thing of inhuman force.

*These* thoughts were only reserved for when Connor was well and truly alone. They existed as the heart from which those jealous fantasies were born.

These thoughts were his most private, most indulgent, and most *sinful*.

Frustratingly, there was only one way to silence them.

Connor bit his bottom lip, shuffling to the edge of his mattress, and put a hand on his abdomen. He could feel his pump beating hard. His hand slid down, over the dip of his navel to

the little swell that the button of his jeans rested on.

He knew it was wrong, but Connor needed this. He wouldn’t be able to think straight if he didn’t get this out of the way first.

The first thought to make him push his heated palm down the top of his

jeans and into his boxers was of Nines, and it made Connor shiver. That arm he let rest over the top of the couch, touching Connor’s shoulders. He imagined it moving to wrap around him and pulling, bringing Connor right into his side.

God, he was so small beneath him.

Nines was so much *more* than him.

‘You’re fine right here.’ He murmurs in Connor’s ear, and this time, it’s close enough to push a huff of hot air inside that’s been stirring in Nines’ chassis. Connor shudders and shakes, but he doesn’t try to pull away.

Even when Nines’ other hand reaches over his lap and grabs the thickest part of his thigh to squeeze.

Connor’s head lolls back as he grabs himself there, and then stuffs his other hand the rest of the way into his jeans, falling back onto the bed to allow himself more room.

His fingertips brush the bulge of his swelling cock, just over the top.

“Mm!”

These thoughts were too kind, the epitome of the unrequited love he didn’t deserve. But, Connor was only human and only so strong.

‘You’re fine right here, too.’ Nines purrs as he lifts Connor up

with ease, strong and unyielding, and pulls him into his lap. He has Connor’s back against his chest, facing away from him, so that he can undo the button on his jeans.

Connor feeds into the fantasy, popping the button over the hand brushing his cock so it can move freely.

He skips a few steps so that Nines already has Connor’s cock out for him and is stroking it from root to tip. He wishes Nines would pull his pants down far enough that he can grind his bare ass against him, but, even in his most indulgent, most sweetest

dreams, Nines is not kind in this way.

Another pair of hands join Nines’ gentle ministrations, cupping Connor’s leaking cock head and rubbing a thumb over the tip, gathering the bead of slick there.

“Ohh! Hank!” Connor’s stroking himself hard, his other hand balling up

his button down and clutching it in a death grip against his chest. He doesn’t have the extra set of hands he needs, and he’s never known a pair other than his own, but he’s able to push away the unsatisfying feeling he often gets when he realizes that Hank’s hands

feel very different than his own in order to complete the fantasy.

Nines’ hands, however, are exactly the same as his, if a bit wider. That is about the only thing that can fill Connor‘s preconstruction enough to finish when his thoughts build up to this point, and Connor milks

that tidbit for all it’s worth.

Nines’ hand goes loose around his cock, fingers skimming the underside and drawing little whimpers from the other android. He pushes a kiss in Connor’s throat, close to his neck port, and murmurs something Connor’d admit is very unlike him to say.

Nines would never call him *that*. His desperation is ruining the fantasy.

Then, again, Nines would never be this careful with him, either. Hank would never have these kinds of feelings for him, and he’d never find himself in this position.

He wishes he could make these thoughts go away without having to do... this... but it was just necessary. They wouldn’t go away otherwise, though he was always left feeling lonlier than before.

He forces himself into stasis after he comes, because he can’t handle this

guilt on top of another lonely night- thinking about his heart throbs falling asleep together in each other’s arms. He’ll process what happened tonight and the confounding things they’d said later. Right now, it’s too much for him to think.

////////////://::::

Hank watched Connor go. As soon as the door shut, he heard Nines emerge from his hiding place.

Hank turned and found him standing there with his usual stony facade, but he knew Nines perfectly well enough to recognize that look.

‘Troubled’.

He’d seen it quite a few times before, and Nines had insisted each time that he was ‘fine’ to no satisfaction of Hank’s conscience.

He tossed his hair from his face with a hand and searched for the right words to break the silence. They stood comfortable in one another’s

company with only the sound of Sumo lapping around his water bowl.

“Well... that was something.”

“Hm.” Nines clasped his hands together behind his back. It was clear they were both expecting Connor to stay a little longer, but there was something much more

pressing on Hank’s mind at the moment then Connor’d early departure.

“...What was that about, Ni?”

“I assume you mean the part about me singling Connor out for helping choose my Valentine’s?”

“No.” Though, that was something else entirely for Hank to pick at.

“No, I mean about... not knowing him very well.”
Hank looked stiff. Nines knew that the conversation ahead was only going to make matters worse for him, as he’d never been fond of talking about these things. The most he could do was cushion the blow.

He dipped his chin, eyes trained on the shadows Hank’s hair casted along his face. He needed to get it cut soon, if he didn’t want it to curl at his shoulders. Though now, Nines might have some leverage to get him to tie it back, finally.

“You‘re so dramatic.” He said for the sixth time, and it was enough to loosen Hank’s shoulders, and make him want to close the distance.

He returned Nines’ cheeky grin, getting an arm around his neck when he was close enough to pull him into a hug.

The android came easily enough, standing toe to toe with the man with his hands around his thick waist.

“*You’re* dramatic- being all cryptic and shit. I know Connor better than my own sister.”

“Because of opposing political views and a mutual stubbornness.”

Hank smiled despite himself. Nines watched his hand, large as it is, fail to grab more than a handful of Hank’s girth, and quickly reprimanded himself for getting distracted during such an important conversation.

“You simply do not know Connor as well as you think.”

Hank pulled out of his grasp, dropping his hand down Nines’ back and feeling around the hard ‘muscle’ there.
“I’ve known him since the uprising. He’s known me since the anniversary of...” Nines knew what, of course, but Hank had thought he’d be better at

talking about it at this point.

A hand groping around his waist and another rubbing up his arm brought him back to the moment. Nines was there to ground him, the anchor in his life. It was enough for Hank to blink away the pressure building in his head and continue.

“Uh, anyway... Connor’s been there for every crazy thing that shit entailed, too. Shit I’m sure he’d like to forget. I was a wreck for a while there, Ni. I’m glad you’ll never see me like that- how much worse I used to be- But, it means you don’t know all the details about us.”

Nines is quiet, because while all of that is true, it’s still not the truth about Connor. There is most certainly some things they don’t know about each other.

Hank predictably arches a brow at his silence, but he’s slowly becoming more curious about why Nines is pushing this.

He continues rattling off excuses, keenly aware that Nines is keeping something from him.
”I also know every weird fuckin’ thing that guy has gotten himself into after his deviancy, and some of that shit really shook some boundaries.”

Really made it impossible *not* to know Connor better.

Like when he’d grown a spine one day and chucked Hank’s keys into the nearest body of water when he tried to drunk drive. Also the time he forced Hank to listen to his awful pop music by blaring it like Hank had done all

those times to him with his heavy metal shit- even locking the car doors. And, while it did nothing but brighten Hank’s day, Connor taking apart his remote control and failing to put it back together properly and not telling him was still a breach of boundaries- a hysterical one.

He’s been there to see Connor go through horrible fashion phases with lots of cartoon dogs on everything- even keeping some crucial documents in folders with the awful print at work.

And, if Hank wants to get deep about it and prove his point to himself, he’s even been there for

Connor ‘casually’ admitting he’s had some violent, upsetting dreams of owning a pet that suffers his ‘robotic’, improper care of them. Hank is sure Connor hadn’t meant to tell him as much as he had when he stared off like that and spoke with that hitch in his voice, but he’d

still heard it.Hank did his research and figured as best as he could that it was a rather common fear some deviants had when making the transition to ‘humanhood’. Worrying about mortality, and the inability to provide the appropriate levels of affection and care for their organic

counterparts. How could Hank not know Connor better when he’d heard the scrape in his voice when he’d confessed to having *that* dream, again, while trying to hide his face behind a hand.

Yet, even if Hank took the time to say all that, he’s sure Nines is going to keep pressing

this, because Hank is sure now that he *knows* something.

“You know everything, then?” Nines hums.

Hank looks away and shrugs.
“Well, yeah... I know what his fears are, and his dreams for the future. I know his favorite color.” He answers vaguely, expecting Nines to look

unimpressed.

“I know his favorite band is some goofy electric-pop shit I’m under oath not tell anyone about.”

And with that without any warning, the hand Hank’s wrapped around Nines’ waist swings him so that Hank can lead him towards the kitchen in an odd shuffling slow dance.

Amused, Nines comes, resisting the urge to make Hank drag him the whole way like a lead weight. His newer model is a little over 10 pounds lighter than his predecessor’s, but it’d still give Hank a hell of a fight to lift like that. It’s very tempting.

Hank continues droning on while Nines is forced to follow.
“I know that the first upgrade he ever installed after deviancy left him with weak ankles.” Which was more of a fun fact he found amusing than an actual point in his argument.

Nines is definitely not surprised by that.

The first upgrade Connor installed was a plain walk cycle to make his movements less disjointed. It wasn’t noticeable as the flare ups only lasted during the initial installment. It explained him colliding into Hank’s back at the end of a stairwell that one time, though.

It’s becoming increasingly hard not to find these useless tidbits of his predecessor endearingly human in the way he finds them so in Hank.

Nines lets Hank move him with one big hand on his hip and the other in Nines’, leading them forward. He slides his only free hand down to

grab a handful of Henry’s backside in retaliation, earning a grunt.

“These are all superficial discoveries, dear.”

“Well, I’m not gonna tell you the secret shit.There’s a lot more to Connor than the ‘superficial’ stuff, *obviously*.”

“Yes, I’m incredibly aware.” Nines murmurs.

Hank is open minded- very, very open minded. And, with the right facts, can be persuaded even. But, this is something that requires a bit more care than Nines would normally address it with. He couldn’t just state what had become clear to him and mold Hank’s view of it without

putting Connor’s livelihood at stake.

Hank’s looking at him expectantly, because Nines’ arched brow and the exhausted look on his face tell his lover a lot more than he’d meant to in his silence.

“Alright, Ni... you seem to know *something* I don’t.”

Nines Sighs through his nose.
“Maybe...”

Maybe Hank already does know and is *choosing* to ignore it. Nines can admit that’s precisely what he’s been ‘afraid’ of with all this.

“Out with it. What’s got you making that face for, honey?”

“My face looks the same.”

“Your light’s yellow.”

Yes, Nines supposes that is very unlike him.

He almost rather keep it a mystery, but there’s no turning back from here. It’s clear he has something he wants to say and Hank will work it out of him one way or another. He almost wishes he was

irresponsible enough to make Hank work it out of him the ‘fun’ way.

They stop their awkward slow dance at the kitchen table where there’s still the mess of Hank’s dinner to clean up. Nines looks at him with piercing eyes, eyes he doesn’t often turn on him like this, but...

“Connor seems different, doesn’t he? When it’s all of us together, he’s a bit more tense. Don’t you think?”

Hank seems to consider it, but he’s... subjective. He’s always thought Connor was a bit of a dork and a little shaky expressing his feelings sometimes.

Hank himself was a big ass mess, so who was he to judge? He knows there’s a point Nines is trying to make, though, so hes placates him in order to dig it out of him.

“Well, why do you think that is?”

“I think Connor is experiencing an... emotional attachment of sorts-“

No, that’s not precise enough. Nines should tread lightly, but he does so hate talking in circles.
“An infatuation.” And there it is.

Nines doesn’t say infatuated with who, because the way Hank sets his jaw as he stares back is rather telling.

Hank is seriously conflicted on how to answer that. Did he suspect? At one time, yes, he had. Quite recently, in fact.

Still, it’s not a thought worth entertaining, and Nines must know that. He must know that Hank loves *him*.

And, he knows Nines does, so-

“Are you jealous?”

Logically, he shouldn’t be. He’s ‘better’ than Connor. He’s also the man in Hank’s life, the one he’s *chosen* to be with.

But, it’s why Hank chose him in the first place that gives Nines his doubts.

He’s pushed it away as best as he can, but it‘s hard not to wonder everytime

Connor’s eyes go all fluttery when he looks at Hank, and watches their shoulders bump, if Hank really doesn’t *see* it- doesn’t see that he *wants* Connor.

Nines knows it’s why Hank showed an interest in him. He had most of Connor’s face and hair- his voice, save for the

authoritative tone that made it sound a tad deeper. He had a few of the same spots on his face, too, and the same soft slope of his Cupid’s bow. They could be twins to the untrained eye, and Nines *knows* that’s how he ended up on Hank’s arm in the first place.

Maybe Nines has developed a complex, as he can’t file it away as anything else, but he thinks he’s maybe allowed this one instance of self-doubt when he’s been made to accept the fact that Hank has chosen him at all because he reminds him of Connor. Nines is the closest Hank

can come to being with him without losing his best friend- without the risks associated with crossing that final line.

Hank will deny it. The problem is that, yes, in a way, at the *beginning*, he saw an opportunity to have Connor without the fear of losing him in Nines.

But, he’ll never say so.

Not that he has to, Nines isn’t stupid. Their first few interactions were confusing enough when Hank continued to show an interest in someone who was so obviously unlike the people Hank usually found appealing- friend or lover. It was suspicious.

That is until Nines put two and two together- ‘Connor’ was the end goal to some extent, Connor was the thing that pushed Hank back into him.

Nines doesn’t get that feeling, anymore, he doesn’t feel like he’s ‘Connor’s replacement’. Hank has made painstakingly sure as they came

to know one another that he understood how very different they were. He understood that Nines wasn’t Connor, and that he wasn’t like anyone else Hank had associated with before- romantically, at least. And despite that, he kept coming back, learning to love their differences.

In some ways they were similar, though they never quite truly clicked. Things like Nines’ blunt nature mixed in a strange way with Hank’s crassness. It made coming to an agreement about things- finances, people, social events- interesting and effective.

They rarely disagreed on things, but their attitudes forced them to work alongside two very different styles of thinking. They made it work, somehow, giving new meaning to the word ‘partnership’, and Hank knew now that Nines’ tendency to give off cold shoulders and uninterested

glares to people when it was least appropriate would be sorely missed by Hank- the infamous grumpy bear, himself.

The android had gone quiet for a little too long, and Hank didn’t know what to make of it. The most fitting answer was the hardest to accept.

“You are jealous.”

Nines doesn’t think that totally encompasses the emotion it elicits, but he’s straining to refute the one Hank’s chosen.

“Honey-“

“You haven’t answered my question, Hank. Connor is showing signs of having romantic feelings for you, and you’re telling me you haven’t noticed?”

Hank snorts.
“He’s my best friend... that’s... that’s *it*.” He shrugs, but the hesitation in his voice is less than reassuring.

He knows that didn’t come out right, but he’s working on the spot here. Connor *doesn’t* like him like that- obviously. It’s not even worth

talking about. Still, he can’t seem to meet Nines’ gaze, and that’s really not helping his case.

“*Nines*,” Hank starts, but one look at that blank, steel-eyed stare looking straight through him makes the words catch in his throat.

Hank sighs, hand threading through his hair.

“Look.... Maybe, I did think so once,”

When Connor had come to him with that card. That left Hank with quite a bit to the imagination, until he came to his senses and reasoned that it wasn’t anything. It couldn’t be.

“But, there’s really nothing there.... And besides, Connor knows you and I are together- he’d never try to break us up-“

“I know that. I’m not saying he is.”

“Then whats the issue? We’re just friends!”

“The *issue* is that I think he still has feelings for you.”

“Ni, no, ok?” Hank huffs, a better argument alluding him at the moment. He leaves the kitchen and paces around the living room.

Nines watches, becoming less confident in his abilities as the night wears on.

He stands between the two rooms with his arms behind his back, face carefully blank.
“What if he does, Lieutenant? Humor me.”

“Then it means nothing!”

“You’re being awfully defensive.”

“Yeah, because my boyfriend is accusing me of having feelings for someone else.”

Hank threw his hands up and circled around the coffee table.
“Don’t you trust me?”

“Don’t you trust *me*? I’m programmed to interpret body language, as well as-“

“Nines, baby! It’s *nothing*.”

Nines is stuck. He’s very stuck. He feels his throat refusing to speak the words

that might jeopardize his relationship- his happiness. He can’t just tell Hank that he doesn’t want it to be ‘nothing’.

He knows Hank would be happier, he *would* be. He’d have the person he cares most for besides Nines in his life, and Nines would have...

Well, what exactly?

More of Connor gaping at the naked column of his throat with a tint to his cheeks, for one thing. That was nice- being appreciated by the original model himself.

More structurally, Connor has already proven to be capable of compassion outside of friendly affairs. In a more intimate sense, he’d been the one by Hank’s own admission to choose those chocolates for him, meaning he must have picked up on Nines’ strained relationship with his

humanhood. A spectacularly sensitive topic for him, yet Connor had made no indication of it to Hank, who’d do his damndest to wrestle those negative thoughts out of him, and only took it into consideration for a gift. He was capable of bonding to some extent, but Nines

was getting ahead of himself. It was possible Connor didn’t want anything so committed with him, but rather with Hank.

Connor knew him much better than Nines expected him to and used the information to his best interests- possibly too much so as Connor’s quiet demeanor tonight

might actually be a detriment to himself, making him feel restricted to being polite rather than comfortable. He certainly seemed to be putting on a show for their sakes half the time.

Curious.

Hank had calmed down enough to take a seat on the couch. Sumo thumped his tail

happily from his dog bed at Hank’s groan, making Nines’ lips tilt into a little smile. Hank couldn’t help but sigh when he saw that soft look on his face- He’d much rather be holding that face right now, than debating some impossible fantasy about his best mate with it.

“Ni...”

“Hank, can you just *admit* it?” Nines says, and it stirred a stark remembrance in Hank to Connor pushing Ortiz’s android into a confession.

‘Just say it! Is it that hard?‘

He was thankful that approach to the rest of the deviant investigation was quickly forfeited, as Connor

seemed to tailor himself to Hank’s preferences.

Interestingly enough...

Fuck.

Hank heard Nines sigh- the defeated sort. He was surprised how long they’d lasted on this topic. Normally it was a swift disagreement, few as those were, and then they were turning over for bed.

But, he wasn’t budging on this. Hank was beginning to have trouble doubting him as he continued so confidently.

“You want me to just say Connor has a crush on me?... That will really make you happy somehow?”

Nines looked off towards their bedroom, considering the likelihood

of this conversation reaching another dead end.
“I would be ‘happy’ if you would consider the possibility, and....”

“And, *what*?”

Help him pursue the little deviant. Help him figure out what made Connor tick, help them reach a mutual understanding where Hank would ultimately

end up with the best of both worlds. Nines couldn’t imagine now, but the idea of the three of them toughing it out together sounded like the most desirable outcome to Hank’s suppressed yearning and Connor’s... well, Nines had no idea how deep Connor was wading through this.

But, he had always wanted a better relationship with his predecessor, as their stilted conversation, detailed by tonight’s events, made it a challenge.

All he was sure of, was that it wasn’t possible that he’d misread things with Hank- just as he hadn’t with Connor.

Hank *had* shown an interest in his predecessor, but, they weren’t going to make it to that conclusion tonight. No way.

He resisted a sigh, as he went to clean the kitchen table up. Hank watched him work, almost too pissed to admire his ass.

“When do you plan on visiting Connor at his apartment.” Nines said, but the older man was already making his way towards the bedroom.

Nines huffed, honest to Ra9 huffed, as he’d never had to leave a disagreement with one of them unhappy, but especially both of them.

He cursed in a way he’d learnt from Gavin, and fussed with himself for failing to procure any results- from two separate attempts in one night, even. Pathetic. First he scared away Connor being too forward, and pissed off Hank being too pushy. He felt his approach to Hank was at

least fair, these things needed saying. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be dealing with the result of Hank’s disapproval later. He spent the rest of the night in the living room working on case files.

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