Chapter Text
Hank’s skin was cold to the touch as he moved back into the bed, and Connor curled up against him to share his own warmth, melting into the softness of the embrace.
He didn’t need to say anything, didn’t dare even to begin, because this moment was already so perfect. Details could come later.
He nuzzled into Hank’s neck, registering the slight heat of the mark he’d left earlier, and found the point of Hank’s pulse with his lips. He settled against it, letting his own thirium pump fall into the same rhythm, without even thinking about it. This bed, Hank’s arm around his waist, his warm skin against his face… this was home.
He felt his processors quiet down, as before, narrowing to just the points of contact between his body and Hank’s, before even initiating his stasis protocol. As he did, the last fleeting moment of consciousness was the murmur of Hank’s voice. He didn’t register the words, just knew they were there, and he didn’t feel the need to reach for them.
——
Connor was surprised to find himself woken by the sound of Hank’s alarm. His stasis was usually much shorter than Hank’s need for sleep, and faded away gradually. Today, it was a sudden awakening, and he felt his body whir uncomfortably back into motion as Hank jostled to smack the alarm into silence. Then Hank brushed a kiss into his hair, murmuring, “‘morning, Sweetheart,” and all at once, Connor was fully awake.
“Good morning, Hank. Did you sleep well?”
“Like someone knocked me out with a frying pan,” Hank chuckled, gently detangling himself from their shared embrace. “Seems you were out pretty hard too, huh?”
Connor murmured an affirmative noise, stretching his body back into full mobility as he watched Hank pad off to the bathroom, leaving the bedroom door open for Sumo to come in and check on his other person, no doubt confused by the change in morning routine.
Connor led the dog to the back door, picking up Hank’s and his own clothes as he went through the hallway, taking time to prepare Hank’s coffee before dumping the clothes in the hamper and dressing himself. The buzz of yesterday still lingered in him, even after fully clearing his system. Not as a physical sensation, but as a soft hum in the back of his mind; an eagerness for something he couldn’t quite identify. Something between anticipation and happiness, perhaps. He couldn’t quite name it, but it felt good.
Returning to the kitchen, he found Hank preparing his own breakfast, Sumo snuffling about his feet for stray crumbs. Glancing at the table, across from Hank’s half-empty mug, he was surprised to see a foil pouch of thirium, its corner snipped off, the blue liquid poured into a tall glass beside it. He didn’t miss the way Hank smirked when he sat down and picked up the glass.
“Figured you could use a little pick-me-up this morning too,” Hank teased, smiling as he slipped into his own seat to eat. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Connor said, after draining half the glass and feeling that delicious sharpening of everything as his system incorporated the addition. “Really good.”
The day wore on as always, aside from the hand on his leg during the drive to the station, and the little kiss before slipping back into the car – and all the ones that followed after they made their way home.
They still watched TV after dinner and chores, Connor still put his feet on Hank’s lap as he melted into his seat on the couch, but the little thrill as Hank wrapped his hand around them to rub felt a little more liberating. Like he was allowed to fully enjoy it now.
And when Hank rose to get ready for bed, it wasn’t with the usual ‘goodnight, Con’, but a yawned, “Are you coming too, Sweetheart?”
Everything just slowly found its new rhythms. The only slight hiccup was Fowler, who pulled them in Monday morning with the look of a man battling a headache.
“I’m not here to stick my nose in your personal business, but you know the rules, Hank; can’t have domestic partners in the same car,” the captain declared, pushing a stack of HR forms across the desk, and Hank groused,
“We’re the best fucking team you have, and you know that!”
“Yes you are!” Fowler bit back, throwing up his hands. “And I’m not the one who went and fucked that up, now am I?” He calmed himself with a huff. “You both know the kind of eyes you have on you, politically and otherwise, and I’m not about to let anything fuck that up. So for now, Hank, you’re on desk, and Connor, you’ll be tagging on with Chen and Dexter, okay? If something comes up where I need both of you… we’ll call it special measures, but we need to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s here.”
Hank grumbled something about ‘special measures, my arse’, but Connor just smiled with a soft, “Yes, Sir,” and signed the form laid out before him. An official recognition of domestic partnership, which he mentally scanned and saved for later recall, even as he signed his name.
“And on a personal note,” Fowler added, as he gathered the papers back up to file, his expression having softened to a smile, “I’m happy for the both of you. Now get the fuck out of my office and go do something useful.”
Connor kept up his Wednesday ritual of attending the movie nights at New Jericho, but even that felt as though it had changed somehow. Perhaps it was the lack of anxiety about going home, or just the general softness that had crept into his life, but he felt more able to connect with the people around him. Found himself slipping more easily into the banter and the discussions after. And there was a little, personal thrill in excusing himself with the line, “But I really have to go, Hank is waiting for me,” and the knowing smiles he inevitably received in reply.
At home, he’d find the bedroom door ajar, and Hank either awake with a book, ready to lift the corner of the covers and invite him in, eager to share a kiss and hear about his night. Or already asleep, Sumo only somewhat reluctant to vacate the spot beside him, which Connor had already claimed as his own.
——
The movie of the night had been The Princess Bride, one that Hank had already introduced Connor to, but he’d been eager to revisit. It had originally come on the heels of one of his run-ins with Detective Reed; an occurrence that had become less frequent in recent months, when he’d said something about, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.” Hank had all but spat his coffee on a laugh, and Gavin had turned crimson red before stalking off, leaving Connor confused and not entirely sure if he’d won the exchange.
It was with the pleasant hum of that memory in his mind that Connor headed for the door, only to be called back with a soft, “Connor?”
He turned, and greeted Simon with a friendly smile. Only… it wasn’t Simon.
“Detective Connor? I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to say hi. To finally meet you, I mean.” The voice that came out of the other man, accompanied by a slightly nervous smile and bright, attentive blue eyes, was unmistakable.
Hank and he had talked about Casper, about the recordings (long since deleted), and Hank’s continued friendship with the man, but Connor had never actually met him. Hadn’t been entirely sure he wanted to, if he was honest, and now it seemed he didn’t have a choice.
“Just Connor is fine…” he said, hoping his apprehension wouldn’t register in his voice.
“Connor,” the man all but beamed, “I’m Casper. You probably already… I’m friends with Hank – Lieutenant Anderson, he’s told me a lot about you. And I already – I have followed your career online, not in like a creepy way or anything, I just really like…” Casper trailed off, his eyes taking on a softer, more earnest note, and Connor couldn’t help but be drawn in by the softness of them. “I was in the camp, back then… so I didn’t actually see you come in, but, I’ve seen it online a million times since then. You probably saved my life that day. I’ve always wanted to, you know, to say thank you.”
Connor smiled, reaching to gently squeeze his shoulder, feeling a small clench in his own chest at the memory.
“So much happened that night. I’m just grateful for how everything ended.”
He let his eyes wander about the rapidly emptying screening room, the countless people milling about on their way back to their own lives, alone or in groups. Everything that had been built on the tumult of those few, hectic days. It was still a little hard to fathom sometimes, how far they’d come.
“And about the whole thing with Hank, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to mess anything up for you, I really didn’t know,” Casper carried on, the tension back in his voice.
“It’s alright. I didn’t even know back then, and he didn’t either,” Connor assured him, meeting those blue eyes again and smiling earnestly. “You did nothing wrong. I’m just sorry you ended up in the middle of everything.”
The beaming smile was back in full force as Casper carried on. “I’m not. Sorry about that, I mean. I’m really happy for you, both of you, honestly I am. I really hope I find that kind of thing myself someday.”
The bright smile turned to a mischievous grin, and Connor raised a brow. “But if you do want to make it up to me… I wouldn’t mind a tour of the station? I’d love to actually see the place!”
“That can be arranged, I’m sure,” Connor laughed. “Next Wednesday, maybe?”