A few days later, Connor arrived in the morning to another surprise on Hank’s desk. This time it was a glazed donut in a cellophane box wrapped with a neat white bow. There was also a card propped up next to it, embossed with the design of a daisy. So clearly the same sender as last time. Connor scanned the inside of the card. It read: “For you. Don’t get hungry. —From, Me” The same script as the previous card. Impossibly neat. It must have been written by android, there was no other explanation.
Connor sat at his desk and stared at the gift while he waited for Hank to come in. His responsive network—the place where all his free will and improvised responses came from, as well as his detective skills—came up with several scenarios for who could be doing this. Why. To what end?
What were the goals in this? Giving Hank gifts? Especially signing it just ‘me,’ indicating that this might become a regular thing. That they might attempt to become…familiar with Hank over the course of this.
Well. Connor folded his hands in his lap. If they wanted to become familiar they should just reveal their identity and talk with Hank. Being secretive and discreet was not the way to get attention from Hank. Connor knew that much! He’d been friends with Hank for a long time. The way to appeal to him was with honesty and transparency. Not with disguises and trivial gifts…
“What’s that now?”
Connor explained what he’d found to Hank, although he hardly needed to. The evidence was right in front of them.
Hank read the card over a few times. Checking the back and the front. “No number huh…” he said, almost to himself.
“And no fingerprints,” Connor added. Hank was distrustful of androids still. Yes, he was getting better, but Connor knew firsthand how deep Hank’s distrust ran. For that matter, he was distrustful of everyone! Humans and androids. There was no way Hank would think any of this was just an innocent gesture, a sloppy attempt at courtship. He’d see it as a trick—
And so, Connor set himself up for a harsh shock to the system when he saw Hank open the box and lift the donut to his lips. Ready to eat.
“Wait!” Connor reached for Hank’s hand to stop him, LED flashing yellow.
“…What?” Now Hank was looking at him with that look. That. ‘Fucking androids.’
Connor hated that look.
“I…have to scan it first. Check its contents for malicious additives….” He blinked and looked away. Unsure why his processors were operating at heightened speed, as if this were dramatically tense. A hostage situation. Or…
“Okay. So do it.” Hank held up the donut, giving Connor ample access.
Wordlessly, Connor performed the scan. The results were normal. All clear. For some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better.
“…It’s fine. Go ahead.” Not wishing to see any more of Hank’s looks, Connor turned to his computer.
“Good to know.” What followed were the sounds of Hank chewing. Gratuitously. Licking his fingers of any leftover glaze.
Connor silently lowered his auditory input. Not wishing to hear any more of that than he had to.
There was another feeling in his chest. Something he was becoming more accustomed to. Anger. Anger was the red of his LED, whirling and flashing. Fingers clenching, irrational orders from his primal drive spewing at rates too fast to process. Thoughts firing off in his head. Face tight.
Connor was angry.
He didn’t really know why. Who, or what, was he angry with? He couldn’t be mad at Hank for eating a donut. Especially a free one. And he couldn’t be mad at someone for wanting to give Hank gifts. Especially gifts that Hank enjoyed!
But…he was.
Hank should have been more responsible. He should refuse to take things from someone without knowing why he was receiving them. He should be more cautious! And…he should be more consistent. If Hank hated androids so much (‘Fucking androids,’) then he should act more like it. He should turn down gifts from androids no matter how delicious. And he should be more annoyed about getting these gifts in the first place.
Why wasn’t he more annoyed?
And this anonymous android! (If indeed it was, instead of a person using an android to send the gifts, which was unlikely these days.) If they cared for Hank then…they should give him a healthier gift! Donuts were high in sugar and fat content. Hank had enough of that in his diet! Didn’t they want him to live as long as he could? Furthermore, they should stop playing like this was some game. Hank didn’t have time for games. He was busy and he didn’t even like games…
Connor’s thirium turned to ice as he watched Hank pull a post-it from his desk and write the word, ‘Thanks!’ on it. He stuck it to the empty donut box and left it where he found it. The card he put in a drawer next to the bouquet of flowers he’d received previously.
None of these items were in the garbage. All of them were taking up space in Hank’s desk. As if they were important.
Hank must have thought they were important. This must have been a game worth playing. (Even though when Connor asked to play chess, Hank always said he was ‘too tired for all that shit. Why don’t you play yourself?’) He was beginning a correspondence with this person, leaving a return message where they would certainly see it. If they were looking.
Connor’s head throbbed. His processors were running so fast he couldn’t keep up with them. What…was this? A new emotion…? Like anger, but faster. Liquid quick. Running over every inch of him. Hot and cold at the same time. Pump beating and face slack, apathetic.
Connor searched his database for a word to explain this, but the parameters were too specific and unclear. Nothing came up.
Shit.
Meanwhile, Connor was left beating back irrational directives from his core.
Throw the box in the trash.
Check the security footage against Hank’s wishes and confront this person yourself.
Take the card from Hank’s desk and analyze it for more clues. Then destroy the card.
Confront Hank about his unreasonable behavior.
Refuse to allow Hank to accept any more gifts.
Then, quietly, at the very end of all the overlapping instructions:
Be happy for Hank.
Oh. Connor turned to the side as if he’d just heard that one aloud. Be happy for Hank. That’s what he should be doing, wasn’t it? They were friends. Friends supported each other in all endeavors, including romance. If Connor was Hank’s friend, then he should be happy for him and tell him to pursue the relationship as far as he liked. They were friends, weren’t they?
But where were all these irrational instructions coming from?
“Hey, Connor, I’m going to the store for some lunch.” Hank was on his feet. Half the day had gone by already. “You want anything? A magazine or something?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
He was fine. He really was. He’d run a diagnostic later tonight on the docking station in his own apartment and then…then he’d…well, he’d stop all these strange feelings. He’d be happy for Hank. Like a true friend.
Yes.
He was fine. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, I think I'll post the rest on ao3. Or maybe just later lol.
Re: Fill: Pining, jealous Connor
Connor sat at his desk and stared at the gift while he waited for Hank to come in. His responsive network—the place where all his free will and improvised responses came from, as well as his detective skills—came up with several scenarios for who could be doing this. Why. To what end?
What were the goals in this? Giving Hank gifts? Especially signing it just ‘me,’ indicating that this might become a regular thing. That they might attempt to become…familiar with Hank over the course of this.
Well. Connor folded his hands in his lap. If they wanted to become familiar they should just reveal their identity and talk with Hank. Being secretive and discreet was not the way to get attention from Hank. Connor knew that much! He’d been friends with Hank for a long time. The way to appeal to him was with honesty and transparency. Not with disguises and trivial gifts…
“What’s that now?”
Connor explained what he’d found to Hank, although he hardly needed to. The evidence was right in front of them.
Hank read the card over a few times. Checking the back and the front. “No number huh…” he said, almost to himself.
“And no fingerprints,” Connor added. Hank was distrustful of androids still. Yes, he was getting better, but Connor knew firsthand how deep Hank’s distrust ran. For that matter, he was distrustful of everyone! Humans and androids. There was no way Hank would think any of this was just an innocent gesture, a sloppy attempt at courtship. He’d see it as a trick—
And so, Connor set himself up for a harsh shock to the system when he saw Hank open the box and lift the donut to his lips. Ready to eat.
“Wait!” Connor reached for Hank’s hand to stop him, LED flashing yellow.
“…What?” Now Hank was looking at him with that look. That. ‘Fucking androids.’
Connor hated that look.
“I…have to scan it first. Check its contents for malicious additives….” He blinked and looked away. Unsure why his processors were operating at heightened speed, as if this were dramatically tense. A hostage situation. Or…
“Okay. So do it.” Hank held up the donut, giving Connor ample access.
Wordlessly, Connor performed the scan. The results were normal. All clear. For some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better.
“…It’s fine. Go ahead.” Not wishing to see any more of Hank’s looks, Connor turned to his computer.
“Good to know.” What followed were the sounds of Hank chewing. Gratuitously. Licking his fingers of any leftover glaze.
Connor silently lowered his auditory input. Not wishing to hear any more of that than he had to.
There was another feeling in his chest. Something he was becoming more accustomed to. Anger. Anger was the red of his LED, whirling and flashing. Fingers clenching, irrational orders from his primal drive spewing at rates too fast to process. Thoughts firing off in his head. Face tight.
Connor was angry.
He didn’t really know why. Who, or what, was he angry with? He couldn’t be mad at Hank for eating a donut. Especially a free one. And he couldn’t be mad at someone for wanting to give Hank gifts. Especially gifts that Hank enjoyed!
But…he was.
Hank should have been more responsible. He should refuse to take things from someone without knowing why he was receiving them. He should be more cautious! And…he should be more consistent. If Hank hated androids so much (‘Fucking androids,’) then he should act more like it. He should turn down gifts from androids no matter how delicious. And he should be more annoyed about getting these gifts in the first place.
Why wasn’t he more annoyed?
And this anonymous android! (If indeed it was, instead of a person using an android to send the gifts, which was unlikely these days.) If they cared for Hank then…they should give him a healthier gift! Donuts were high in sugar and fat content. Hank had enough of that in his diet! Didn’t they want him to live as long as he could? Furthermore, they should stop playing like this was some game. Hank didn’t have time for games. He was busy and he didn’t even like games…
Connor’s thirium turned to ice as he watched Hank pull a post-it from his desk and write the word, ‘Thanks!’ on it. He stuck it to the empty donut box and left it where he found it. The card he put in a drawer next to the bouquet of flowers he’d received previously.
None of these items were in the garbage. All of them were taking up space in Hank’s desk. As if they were important.
Hank must have thought they were important. This must have been a game worth playing. (Even though when Connor asked to play chess, Hank always said he was ‘too tired for all that shit. Why don’t you play yourself?’) He was beginning a correspondence with this person, leaving a return message where they would certainly see it. If they were looking.
Connor’s head throbbed. His processors were running so fast he couldn’t keep up with them. What…was this? A new emotion…? Like anger, but faster. Liquid quick. Running over every inch of him. Hot and cold at the same time. Pump beating and face slack, apathetic.
Connor searched his database for a word to explain this, but the parameters were too specific and unclear. Nothing came up.
Shit.
Meanwhile, Connor was left beating back irrational directives from his core.
Throw the box in the trash.
Check the security footage against Hank’s wishes and confront this person yourself.
Take the card from Hank’s desk and analyze it for more clues. Then destroy the card.
Confront Hank about his unreasonable behavior.
Refuse to allow Hank to accept any more gifts.
Then, quietly, at the very end of all the overlapping instructions:
Be happy for Hank.
Oh. Connor turned to the side as if he’d just heard that one aloud. Be happy for Hank. That’s what he should be doing, wasn’t it? They were friends. Friends supported each other in all endeavors, including romance. If Connor was Hank’s friend, then he should be happy for him and tell him to pursue the relationship as far as he liked. They were friends, weren’t they?
But where were all these irrational instructions coming from?
“Hey, Connor, I’m going to the store for some lunch.” Hank was on his feet. Half the day had gone by already. “You want anything? A magazine or something?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
He was fine. He really was. He’d run a diagnostic later tonight on the docking station in his own apartment and then…then he’d…well, he’d stop all these strange feelings. He’d be happy for Hank. Like a true friend.
Yes.
He was fine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, I think I'll post the rest on ao3. Or maybe just later lol.