There's Something Wrong With Me - Chapter 16 - skeevy_nyx (2024)

Chapter Text

There's Something Wrong With Me - Chapter 16

Liminal Connor

Connor found himself feeling restless. Things were going almost too well—he kept expecting something to go wrong, like Captain Fowler would burst out of his office saying there was a mass shooting, or Gavin would corner him in that small bathroom and say he saw him and Hank in the garage—or Hank would say, "Hey Connor, thanks for helping me get my sh*t together, me an' Andrea are gonna give it another shot"—or North would call and say she was pregnant but Markus wasn't the father, or—

His pen flew out of his hand, clattering across the floor. "... oh." Connor had barely registered that it happened. He stood up, almost in a daze.

"You all right there, Connor?"

"Yeah..." He bent down with a slight grunt. Don't do this to Connor, his body had just barley turned thirty... He didn't need to be grunting like an old man just yet. He straightened up, for some reason having the urge to do side stretches, or otherwise move and stretch his body a little more. "I guess I was just whipping it around too fast." How ridiculous—all of those things were just absurd. Well... unfortunately, Connor supposed they were all possible, with varying degrees of probability...

He noticed Hank watching him as he went to sit back in his chair. "You distracted by somethin'?"

"No... not anything that's actually happening." He gave Hank a weak smile. "I guess I'm just feeling restless—it seems like everything got wrapped up in a nice little bow, it almost feels like something awful could happen at any second."

Hank nodded. "I know what you mean." He scooted his chair forward a bit. "That's the nature of the job—no time to relax." Connor rested his pen on top of his notepad, before he started spinning it manically again. Then Hank gave him a side smile. "But why let yourself get distracted by bad stuff when you could be distracted by good stuff?"

Connor found himself making an involuntary face—despite saying he didn't care what anyone at the office thought several times now, he still found himself embarrassed at how easily Hank could make his mask dissolve into a "small shy smile". The lines between "work Connor" and "home Connor" were blurring by the day. "I'll keep that in mind." He could see Hank get a satisfied grin out of the corner of his eye. That's right—they were going to try to take a photo together on lunch. Hopefully one Connor could show to North, and she could understand just by looking at it why Connor liked this guy so much, and forget the fact that he was older... it was kind of a lot of pressure. It would be hard for Connor to look natural in the photo with that kind of expectation... he would just have to push it out of his mind, and deal with it later. A couple's photo... Connor had never taken one before. There was one solitary photo that existed of him with what's-his-f*ck, and he didn't have access to it—someone from the technology department had taken a group shot, and Connor was allowed to be in it as his +1—he had won some kind of industry award, Connor couldn't remember what now, but afterwards he dragged Connor to dinner at that expensive place and pretty much talked at him the entire time about things that went over his head, he just remembered smiling and nodding and trying his best to engage with the conversation, at the rare points where he could get a word in edgewise—he just remembered feeling antsy, remembering the last time his parents took him out for his birthday at a place like this and spent the entire ride home berating him that he had "embarrassed them, and they could never show their face there again"—and he was getting more and more nervous as the meal went on because he knew this guy would expect some kind of "reward", it was just a given that Connor was expected to "do something nice" for his "partner" to "congratulate" him—when Elijah Kamski bored into his eyes and said, "We'll take the check, please"—Connor just felt sick to his stomach.

Ugh... he didn't want to think about that, that was the last thing in the world he wanted to think about. sh*t—he was supposed to stop acknowledging that guy in his head. He just couldn't help it—he'd been floating around his consciousness like a phantom for the last ten years, when anything came up even remotely related to relationships or dating or sex, he was his only reference point, unfortunately.

Connor chanced a glance up at Hank. He couldn't stop pushing the hair that was falling back behind his ear—then it would come loose while he did his hunt-and-peck typing, or leaning squinting into the monitor. Connor snickered to himself—this out-of-touch old man who interacted with the computer like the guys in Zoolander, who was wearing the most dated, loudest dress shirt he'd ever seen, was a million times more appealing to Connor than a successful millionaire—or maybe he was a billionaire by now, Connor had no idea. Hank noticed Connor looking, and gave him a grin. "What?"

Connor smiled back. "Nothing." Then he had an idea—he clicked his pen and scribbled out a note on his hot pink sticky notepad.

'I'm glad we met
(destroy after reading)'

He leaned nonchalantly and stuck the note to Hank's side of the desk. Hank spied it, then reached for his reading glasses. He almost exaggeratedly moved the note closer and farther way from his face, peering down his nose through the glasses. "Aha." He smirked. "'Destroy'? That's boring." Connor watched wide-eyed as he stuck the note to the side of his monitor. He noticed the look on Connor's face, rolling his eyes. "All right, fine." He grabbed the note and crumpled it, then unfolded it a little to tear it in half a few times for good measure. His eyes met Connor's as he chucked the pieces into his trash can, and Connor smiled. Geez... he felt like he was living that cheesy high school romance he missed out on. Except in this case, it'd be with his Political Science teacher—or maybe his PE coach.

Connor shook his head at that absurd idea, even though he could feel he was smirking. For some reason he still found himself feeling physically restless, he was bouncing his leg in a non-nervous way—his body was probably wanting to be active since he warmed himself up with yoga this morning, but he didn't go for a run or anything afterwards. Maybe he could sneak out to grab some coffee or something... they weren't actively working a case at present, and Connor wasn't expecting anyone to come by. Part of him wanted to head down to the jail to talk to Daniel, and tell him he was in good hands with Lucy... but he also thought it was probably best to give him some space. He could only imagine what headspace Daniel was in... it was probably Jason who changed his mind, and Connor didn't want to overwhelm him—Jason would probably be visiting as often as he could. Remembering that "Fallen Angel" look Daniel had given him... Connor felt like he had done enough, he had done what he felt he needed to do—perhaps it was time he left Daniel alone. He did want to get in touch with Lucy though—he really wanted to know what Daniel said to her, and why and how she approached him in the first place.

He opened his email—oh, he had a new one, from—Hank Anderson? There was no subject...

'Me too =)'

Geez... it was a different smiley face than he used in text. That was a real old man smiley. Maybe Connor could start using it when he texted Hank, it could be like their little inside joke, their version of "I can't believe"...

Connor right-clicked on the email, checking 'Send Read receipt'.

OOO

"Hank, would you like some coffee?" Connor pushed out his chair. "I'm feeling a bit restless—I just want to get outside for a minute. It doesn't have to be coffee—can you think of anything you want from the store?"

Hank looked up at come corner of the ceiling. "Hmm... Yeah, I'll take a coffee. Thanks, Connor." He smiled. "You want me to go with you?"

"Um..." That sounded nice... but honestly Connor just wanted to walk around a bit and take his time, he'd consider it taking his first break. "I kind of want to walk around a bit—I did some yoga this morning, so my body's feeling restless." He stood up from his chair.

"Yoga?" Hank's brows furrowed in this exaggerated way. "Ah, geez—hey, don't expect me to do stuff like that with ya. I'm probably the least flexible person on the planet—'cept maybe Jeffrey." Connor laughed—it gave him the goofy mental image of Hank and Captain Fowler in workout clothes trying to follow along to a yoga routine with him, grunting like old men and complaining the whole time. "Hey—isn't that stuff supposed to calm you down? How come you're feeling restless?"

Connor stopped for a second. "That's a good question, actually." He didn't practice consistently, but he did notice a difference on days when he walked, or ran, or did yoga at home, verses days where he did nothing. It's like his body was "activated". He got into yoga in high school, oddly enough—it was either their sophom*ore or junior year when they weren't required to take PE anymore, but North still wanted to take the optional "dance aerobics" class—she didn't want to do it alone and practically begged Connor to take the class with her—it must have been junior year, because that was after he told her he was gay, and he remembered hoping that North wouldn't try to drag him into all this "girl stuff" he wasn't interested in, just because he was gay—she didn't really, but she did try to convince him pretty hard that the dance aerobics class would be fun. A friend of hers who did it the year before said they mixed in kickboxing and stuff like Tae Bo, and Paula Abdul, and basically all these cheesy old VHS tapes, which made it fun. And sometimes they threw on a yoga tape—usually as a warm-up or cooldown, and Connor did unexpectedly find it fun. Predictably, he was the only guy in that class—but he mostly just stuck by North, and no one seemed offended by his presence. Actually, there was a group of girls who would set up next to them sometimes, and one girl said to Connor after a tape, "This Tae Bo sh*t is fun as f*ck, I like it." Connor enjoyed the cheese factor of the VHS tapes and the fact that their teacher wheeled out a big strapped-down TV like in elementary school, hooking it up to a projector that she pointed at the wall—and he unexpectedly did enjoy the kickboxing, Billy Blanks had an infectious energy. When he asked Jayden if he could show him the basics of Aikido in their dorm room, he remarked that Connor had decent stance for someone who never practiced—he had been too embarrassed at the time to tell him he learned it from watching Tae Bo videos. But there was one particular yoga video he had never been able to track down, that was genuinely relaxing—he had never heard of ASMR back then, but it had probably given Connor a similar feeling, the sound of the waves and the guy's gentle voice were just extra relaxing, especially in the wide empty gym with the lights turned off, on a warm spring afternoon with a class full of girls, and their nice middle-aged female instructor following along to the video with them—the video was just a guy who had set up a tripod on a cliff overlooking the ocean in San Diego, CA, from what Connor could remember—and he was this good-looking young Asian guy with long black hair tied back in a messy bun, and he had a gentle voice. This was an odd detail to remember, but he talked a lot with his hands, but not like in an aggressive Italian way, he made really slow, gentle hand movements while he was talking. It was a combination of yoga and guided meditation, the whole thing was just really relaxing, and even North commented as they were walking out into the bright afternoon sun after class, "I really liked that last tape." Connor supposed he had been chasing something like that, looking up videos of people talking gently had been his gateway into the weird world of ASMR—he never was able to find the guy, the internet seemed to think it was Rodney Yee, but Connor remembered the guy in the VHS looking different.

Actually—thinking about all that again, Connor could benefit from taking up kickboxing, for real. Or something like that—some kind of group-oriented class, then he could get out more, and be doing something that was benefiting his body. He had done a few drop-in yoga classes with North and Markus at the gym they went to, but it seemed like a waste of money to him to actually pay for yoga classes, when he got the same experience just doing it at home for free. But with something like kickboxing, he would benefit from having an instructor who could make sure he was doing it right, and correct his stance and whatnot, maybe even eventually spar with other students—yeah, that sounded like a great idea, the more he thought about it. Connor wanted to be able to kick a guy's ass and flip him over his shoulder, just like Jayden. As much as Hank would probably like the idea, Connor didn't want anyone to have to swoop in and rescue him if he found himself in a bad situation...

"Hey, where were you thinkin' of going? I don't need one of those foofy coffees."

"What? Oh—I was probably going to walk to wherever was closest." Connor leaned a hand on his desk. "Is there a particular spot you like best?"

Hank scratched his beard. "Not really—guess I usually just grab the coffee Wanda makes in the break room."

"Oh, Wanda makes it?"

"Yeah—she gets in early, so she comes over and starts the coffee for everyone."

"Aww, that's sweet of her." Maybe he could grab something besides coffee... he didn't want to make Wanda feel bad, like the coffee she made wasn't good enough. Whatever he decided on, he wanted to go over and ask if she wanted some, too. "Do you want something else besides coffee? Juice, a blended drink—oh, a lot of places are still doing hot apple cider."

"Mm, that sounds good to me. Yeah, get me one of those."

"Sure." Connor whipped out his phone, searching for coffee shops in their area, of which there were a f*ck-ton. He looked into a few local shops, and found one that had a "spiced cider" that sounded good. It was only four bucks for a large, which was fair—anything over that would have been ridiculous, to a frugal person like Connor. Although, he supposed his needle was skewed a bit as a "former rich kid", which he hoped Hank wouldn't pry any more about. His parents weren't quite as bad as Lucille Bluth thinking a single banana cost ten dollars... but they were quite out of touch, thinking they were getting a "deal" on Connor's car as a graduation present that was "only thirty thousand dollars". North was lucky that her parents were able to scrounge to get her a crappy used car for fifteen hundred, and she had been so grateful for it... Another reason Connor was glad he had finally been able to be fully financially independent when he became a working adult, and he could literally afford to keep distance from his parents, meaning less "just because" checks for in the mail for minor holidays for five hundred or a thousand bucks a pop. At a certain point, it started feeling like a bribe to keep him talking to them—he literally felt like he was emotionally prostituting himself to his parents, so he finally just told them to stop. One of the few times he'd ever stood up to them in his life, after that disastrous sixteenth birthday dinner of his when he apparently humiliated them so much in public by getting emotional that North wasn't invited and they didn't actually care about what he wanted, or what made him comfortable at all, they just wanted to show off that they could afford to treat their kid to a fancy dinner...

Ugh, Connor was really reminiscing about unpleasant things this morning—it's almost like his brain was trying to self-sabotage, thinking, "There's no way things could be going this well, you'll see." Like that lady's monologue in Annihilation about how self-destruction was different than suicide... heugh, Connor just needed to put it all out of his mind. Even though it was cold, some fresh air would do him some good.

He smiled at Hank. "I'm going to see if Wanda wants a spiced cider, too."

"Hey, great idea!"

"Spiced cider? From where?" Chris was leaning back against his desk. So he could hear them from across the room... just great. Well, he probably had a bunch of puzzle pieces to connect about Connor and Hank, in that case.

Just play it cool, Connor... Chris is a chill guy, right? "Oh, I was just walking down to coffee shop. Do you want anything?"

Chris looked at Hank, slowly nodding with this contemplative look. "I already had my coffee... a hot cider sounds pretty good. It is hot, right?"

"Yeah—although I suppose I could ask if they would put ice in it."

"Nah—hot sounds good." He gave Connor a sheepish smile, like a kid asking if they could stay up past their bedtime. "That okay? Can I get one, too?"

Connor almost laughed. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Hey, thanks, Connor." Chris pushed off his desk. "I'll pay you for mine."

"Oh—" Hank picked up his desk phone. "Connor, if you're good with using your own card, just give the receipt to Jeffrey, he'll reimburse you for it."

"Oh, really?" Connor felt a little bad about that...

"Yeah—I'll see if he wants anything." Hank twisted over his shoulder, the phone cord stretching with him. "Hey. Connor's doin' a coffee run—yeah." Connor could see Captain Fowler looking at them through the glass, the receiver at his ear. "Well, we're all getting hot cider..." Hank laughed. "Okay. Got it." He hung up. "Jeffrey wants one, too—but with whipped cream on top, if they'll do it."

"Ooh, I want some on mine, too." Chris chimed in.

"Okay—" Connor got out his phone, starting a new Note. "So that's two with whipped cream..." He looked over at Hank. Hank sighed.

"Well, I want some, too—but you'll probably tell me I don't need any."

Chris laughed out loud. "Damn, Lieutenant—you're pretty whipped, aren't ya?" Connor was almost flung into another dimension by that statement.

Hank laughed loudly. "Hey, now... well, maybe a little bit." His tone was almost winking at Connor. Wow... he couldn't believe. Hank was right, Chris really didn't care—he even made a joke at Hank's expense, like it was old news by now. The same as he would if Connor just happened to be a woman. Wow... what was with all these freebies? Something bad had to happen now, the universe was tipped too far in one direction...

Connor was trying to will his expression to neutral. Even with all that, he didn't want Chris to see his "shy little smile"... "You can have a little, if you want."

Hank smiled warmly. "Nah, I'm good." Heugh... Connor was feeling embarrassed now, he didn't want to see what kind of smartass expression Chris had on.

"What are you guys yellin' and laughin' about? It's too damn early." Gavin collapsed aggressively into his chair, which pushed back by a foot. A tense silence fell over their corner of the office. Connor got an idea—he wasn't sure what Gavin's deal was, and it did seem unusual looking back on it that Tina would come over and apologize—maybe Gavin even said something to her. Connor decided he would be the "bigger man" and offer an olive branch—even though the burden was on Gavin, and Connor had never done anything wrong.

"Captain Fowler was nice enough to offer to treat us all to coffee." He gave Gavin a neutral smile. "Do you want anything?" He looked at Connor oddly—almost like he thought he was bullsh*tting him.

Chris spoke up. "Well, I'm getting hot cider with whipped cream on top."

"Tch, Fowler's payin' for that?" Gavin swiveled in his chair a bit, pushing himself with his toes, his arms crossed. "Well sh*t—get me a coffee, too." He gave Connor this smug grin. "I'll take a dark chocolate cherry mocha, with a pump of vanilla."

Connor typed it all in his Notes. "Dark chocolate cherry mocha, with a pump of vanilla?" Gavin better not try to bitch that he got his order wrong...

"Yeah. Please." He said it in an obnoxious way. Connor was surprised he remembered that.

"Oh—please and thanks, Connor." Chris clapped his arm before walking away.

Hank smiled up at him. "Please and thanks, Connor."

"Geez..." Connor found himself getting a little embarrassed, and he didn't want to feel that way in front of Gavin. Hank's desk phone rang.

"Hello? Oh—yeah, sure. I'll tell 'im." He hung up. "Hey, Connor—if you don't mind, Jeffrey wants to get everyone in the office something—he says it's only fair, you know?"

Connor smiled. "Sure, I don't mind."

"Okay—he says to get everyone's order, then take it up to him in his office. He'll order it ahead of time on the computer, that way he can pay for it, too."

"Oh, that's a good idea." Then Connor's brows furrowed. "He really doesn't mind paying for everyone?" It would probably easily be seventy bucks, with tip.

Hank bounced his eyebrows. "Well, the precinct's paying for it." Ah... taxpayer dollars at work. Geez... Well, Connor supposed that government and city funds were misappropriated in much worse ways than that... Oh, that reminded Connor of what Jayden had told him. He couldn't help but be curious... but he really didn't want that guy in his search history, too. He was sure Jayden would update him if anything major actually happened.

"All right—I'll go around asking everyone, then head out."

"Sounds good." This was a good opportunity to introduce himself to anyone else he hadn't met, or only met once. "Hey—don't forget Jerry down in the lab!"

"Oh, that's right!" Connor added names next to everyone's order, so it'd be easy to hand them out afterwards. "Does Jerry have an assistant?"

"Nope—he does it all himself down there, if you can believe that."

"Wow." Connor put his phone away. "Okay, I'll be back." He looked around the office. "Ben's not here?"

"Nope. He's on night shift tonight." Hank looked past him at Gavin, raising his voice. "Let's hope they don't find those girls before then—one of us'll get stuck with Gavin."

"Tch. Well it won't be you, old man." Uhh... "I don't need you runnin' out of breath or throwing your back out if we have to run after 'em." Something told Connor that had actually happened in the past...

"Yeah? Well I'll be damned if you think you get to borrow my partner." Hank said it in an unnecessarily territorial way. Connor found himself looking between Gavin and Hank before he could stop himself, willing for that comment to just sail right over Gavin's head...

"Tch." Gavin put his boots up on his desk, which gave Connor a visceral reaction. "Prettyboy? All yours, big guy ." Connor didn't like the way Gavin said that... any of it. "Oh, uh, thanks for that coffee, new guy." What a f*cking asshole... He knew Connor couldn't back out of getting it for him now, since he'd just look even more petty since he wasn't the one paying for it. Oh yeah? Well, here's a little move Connor learned from a mid-2000s comedian...

He clapped Gavin on the shoulder. "No problem, buddy." Gavin's eyebrows shot together, but he didn't do or say anything else.

Hank laughed loudly. "Hey, somebody learned their manners! Good job, Gavin—gold star!"

"Pft... f*ckin' old man..." Gavin muttered to himself, and Connor took the opportunity to leave.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Chris walking quickly to catch up with him as he headed towards the office entrance. "Hey—I wanna talk to Wanda, too."

"Okay." Connor found himself feeling a little uneasy—he was sure Chris wanted to say something to him, too. But whatever it was, he didn't say it yet, and they both walked over to Wanda at the front of the records office.

"Hey, Auntie!" Auntie?

She smiled widely. "Hi, baby. And Connor, too?" She gave him a knowing smile. "You know, I think you've been a good influence on our grumpy old Lieutenant." She turned to Chris. "Did you see how sharp he looked this morning, honey?"

"I sure did." He actually gave Connor a wink. Oh Lord... Please don't out him to Wanda, his heart wasn't ready... "Hey Auntie, we're all getting coffee, do you want anything?"

"Oh, me?" She looked flattered. "Well... I'm not much of a coffee girl, but I'll take a hot chocolate!"

Connor smiled at her. "We're getting hot apple cider, do you want one of those?"

"Yeah, I'm getting mine with whipped cream."

"Ooh—that sounds delicious, baby! Thank you. Is Jeffrey paying?"

"Yup."

"All right. Girls!" She called over her shoulder. Connor almost laughed—he supposed it wasn't really Captain Fowler's money, but he still felt a little bad. "You want a hot cider, or coffee?!" Connor couldn't hear the other girls at the back of the office very well behind the glass. "You want cream?! All right." She turned back to them. "We'll take two hot ciders, and one caramel latte. Oh—whipped cream on all three." She gave Connor a warm smile. "Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome." Connor felt his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile, and he quickly typed it in. He gave her a small wave before turning towards the lab. Chris went with him. "Is Wanda your aunt? I didn't know—that must be nice to work with her."

"Oh—she's not really my aunt, more like a 'black auntie'. You know." Connor laughed lightly.

"Okay, I see."

"Yeah, she's old church friends with my parents." Connor involuntarily stiffened at the mention of "church". From his experience, sweet older ladies like Wanda were pretty split down the middle—either they were aggressively accepting no matter what, like his Grandma—or they were conservative church ladies who would turn on you in a "well-meaning" way the second you did or said something that didn't align with their "Christ-like" values. He really hoped Wanda wasn't the second one... "Hey, so... you're probably thinking, 'Wow, Chris really has nothing to say', huh?"

Connor laughed in slight discomfort. "I guess..." He slowed so they were standing outside the heavy door to the lab, out of earshot of the records office.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, I just wanna say, if it's supposed to be a secret—you're not very subtle, you know what I'm sayin'?" Connor looked up at him, and his expression was neutrally playful, if such a thing made sense. Almost like the first morning Connor had introduced himself to him—although Connor thought he was able to get a better read on Chris since then. "I mean, I'm not tryna listen, but Hank's got a loud-ass voice. You know what I mean?"

"I do." Connor subconsciously found himself smoothing his tie. "Well, I appreciate the warning..." He willed himself to relax. "But I suppose it isn't really supposed to be a secret."

"Ah. Okay." Chris tipped up his hat a bit—that might be his subconscious habit. "Well, that's all I wanted to say." He clapped Connor's arm. Wow... Chris really was a cool guy. Connor felt bad for doubting him... "See ya—take your time with that order." He started walking away.

"Oh—" Connor almost jerked forward. He wanted to ask, but... "Is Wanda...?" He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. He licked his lips out of habit.

Chris seemed to pick up his meaning, waving his hand to the side dismissively. "Who, Wanda? She's a sweet old lady—she doesn't care." Whew... that was a relief.

Connor felt himself smile. "That's good."

"Yeah—although she might be disappointed—she asked me if I thought you liked black girls." Connor actually laughed, despite himself. "I think she was tryna set you up with one of her nieces."

"I see." That was pretty funny... and sweet. "Well, I do like girls... as friends."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I could tell. See ya around, Connor." He stalked off back around the corner towards the office. Geez. Connor supposed he had always been "that guy" who had a lot of girl friends, but no girlfriends—that's probably why those girls didn't care that he was in their dance aerobics class. He didn't really keep in touch with anybody after high school, though... North was pretty much his only close girl friend left. Well, who knows—maybe he'd really end up clicking with Kara, or Wanda's niece. That would be nice...

He braced himself for the cold, walking quickly down the stairs to the lab. "Jerry?" Jerry was standing up at his computer again—standing while working in a cold room, it sounded like Connor's nightmare.

Jerry turned, with a bright smile. "Oh, Detective Sullivan, hello!"

"Hi, Jerry—you can just call me Connor, though!"

"Oh, all right! Well, how can I help you?"

Connor got out his phone. "I'm taking everybody's coffee order, Captain Fowler's treat—do you want anything?"

"Me? Well, gosh..." He seemed genuinely touched. "Well, I don't want Wanda to feel bad, but sometimes I do like one of those sugary fancy coffees..."

Connor laughed. "I felt the same way when Hank told me she makes the coffee every morning—that's why I'm getting a hot apple cider."

"Wow! I didn't know they had those at coffee shops—I'll take one too, that sounds great!"

"Okay, you got it." 'Jerry - cider'. "Would you like whipped cream on top?"

"Gosh—actually, can I get a dirty chai? You know—it's a chai tea with an espresso shot." That actually sounded pretty good... "I need a little more of a kick today! I'll take some whipped cream on that, though!"

"You got it." He gave Jerry an easy smile.

"I'll have to remember that hot apple cider for next time!"

"I think the place I looked up has it on the menu permanently, so I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities!" For some reason, Jerry's positive energy was infectious. Connor was glad he could get it all out on a little walk—even if it would be pretty cold. At least he had his new driving gloves in the car. "All right, Jerry—I'll be back later!"

"Yes, thank you! I appreciate you asking me!" Poor Jerry—people probably forgot he was down here, unless they needed some lab results. Oh yeah—

"Oh, Jerry—I met Kara, she's your niece, right?"

His smile widened. "That's right! She is—when did you meet her?" Uh oh. Connor had just blurted it out—he didn't prepare to answer follow-up questions. Uh..... sh*t.

"Uh, actually, I visited Lieutenant Anderson's house, and she was out in her yard. So he introduced me." It was true—he hadn't needed to lie, which he preferred not to do if he could help it. Just keep the conversation moving— "She was really sweet, I liked her." He gave Jerry a genuine smile.

"Oh, that's good to hear!" He took a wide step back. "She made me this lab coat, you know! She has friends majoring in fashion design, and they were able to translate blueprints I drafted into sketches and patterns! Fascinating, isn't it?"

Connor smiled. Jerry was a nice guy, and he probably didn't get many opportunities to talk to the people he worked with... Even though it was cold down here, Connor could spare a few minutes to keep Jerry company. And, well... it couldn't hurt to have more of an "in" with Hank's friends, could it? "I heard—you were interviewed for a magazine afterwards too, is that right?"

OOO

Captain Fowler typed just like Hank—one damn finger at a time. Connor almost wanted to scoot in and offer to take over—but he couldn't imagine a friendly or neutral way to suggest it. Captain Fowler seemed like he could get worked up easily—although maybe that was just with Hank.

"I appreciate you offering to do this, Connor." He looked between his keyboard and the screen, then made a few mouse clicks. "We don't act like a team nearly as much as I'd like us to, these days."

"Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that." Connor supposed it was true... everyone seemed very isolated in pairs. Even at the Eden Club, when theoretically they had a full crew, everyone was split up and acting very individually.

Captain Fowler nodded through his glass wall. "To be candid with you, a lot of it's because that guy's been off the rails lately—but look at him now." Captain Fowler beamed, almost like a proud parent. Connor followed his gaze to Hank, who was chatting with the guy Connor recognized from the elevator—he was pretty sure his last name was "Lewis". He was a pretty big guy—even bigger than Hank. "Man—I can't believe he dug out that wild shirt. I haven't seen that one since, sh*t—one of Andrea's friend's wedding receptions."

"Oh, were you friends with the Lieutenant's ex-wife, Captain?" Connor didn't want to push it to the point of suspicion—but he couldn't just let this opportunity slip away, could he?

"I was. Damn shame." Captain Fowler turned back to his screen. He was actually wearing reading glasses. "I always thought they'd grow old and die together, but sh*t happens." Connor was surprised the Captain was being so "candid" with him... maybe Connor could afford to relax a bit, too. "Don't tell Hank, but I still see her, sometimes. She and my wife are friends—she comes over to pick up Darlene for a Pilates class a couple times a month."

"I see." Connor let himself lean back against the glass wall. "It seems like a bit of a sensitive subject for Lieutenant Anderson. He's never talked much about her." Captain Fowler looked up at him. "Can you tell me a little about Andrea, Captain? It might help me understand the Lieutenant better." He felt a little bad asking... but Hank had literally given him nothing. It's almost like he had avoided talking about her. If Connor was potentially going to meet Cole this weekend, it would help to understand him, too, if he knew a little about his mom and the way he was being raised.

The Captain sighed audibly. "Well, I guess Hank's still not ready to talk about it. Maybe it's not my place..." Please please please—Connor just needed something, anything. "Well—I can tell you that Hank used to be pretty wild. Andrea was a little wild, too—but she calmed him down after they got married."

Connor felt himself smile. "The Lieutenant told me about that—I found out he used to be drinking buddies with a friend of mine's dad."

"Ha! Sounds about right. Hank's got drinking buddies all over town, I'm sure." The Captain reclined back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "Well, I won't comment on why they separated—but I think that was a big wake-up call for Hank." He still had his reading glasses on, looking past Connor through the wall. Connor couldn't help but look, too—whatever Hank and Officer Lewis were talking about must have been pretty funny, Hank was practically throwing his head back laughing. "I think he realized he can't keep doing the same old sh*t, doing the bare minimum like that's enough." That's more or less what Hank had said—Andrea just got sick of him walking around like a zombie. "Not at work either—which is why I'm glad you're whipping him into shape, Connor. Whatever you're doing, it's working—so keep it up."

Connor smiled. "It's my pleasure, Captain. I feel that I've learned a lot from the Lieutenant, too." He watched as Hank fist-bumped with Officer Lewis. He'd have to ask him what that was about—it made him happy to see Hank doing better, and getting along better with everyone in the office. He wouldn't attribute it all to his influence, like the Captain was doing... but, well, what else could it be, now that he thought about it?

The thought gave Connor a shy smile.

OOO

[Author's Note: This next "arc" is going to get a bit political, just a friendly reminder that a character's opinions or inner thoughts aren't necessarily mine. Some people are just gonna have bad takes.]

Connor took another turn and strolled through the public square, his eyes following the decorative tile with the fish motif leading up to a turned-off water fountain. He felt a little bad for the coffee shop employees, getting such a giant order—but he supposed it was more money for them, and he saw Captain Fowler leave a twenty percent tip. Connor might leave a little more—oh shoot, he didn't have any cash on him. Well, he supposed he could buy a pastry for himself and leave a tip—but he'd have to eat it on his way back, Hank would probably get whiny if Connor just got a pastry for himself, and he didn't want to kill the spirit of the gesture by just getting something special for him and Hank, and no one else. Maybe he'd get an extra hot cider for Jerry... or keep one in the fridge for Ben! Yeah, he could do that, at least... A cider would keep, without whipped cream.

"Hey. Young man." Connor didn't think whoever that was was talking to him, so he kept walking. "Tch. Pretend you don't hear me?" Connor stopped, and looked around. No one was talking to him... oh, this guy who clearly looked homeless was talking to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you." Connor laughed awkwardly before he could help himself. He was technically still on duty, so he shouldn't ignore this guy... "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yeah—you got a couple bucks?" This dude had a giant overcoat that looked like a couch pattern, and a deerstalker hat. "sh*t, I'll take quarters, anything."

"Oh... I'm sorry, I don't usually carry cash on me." It was true...

"Yeah? I bet." The guy pushed his cart full of sh*t, mumbling to himself. "... f*cking shoes, don't have any money..."

Connor decided to keep walking, in the opposite direction this guy was going. He couldn't help but look down at his shoes—he supposed they did look rather expensive, although Connor himself couldn't tell you what brand they were, he just picked them out because he liked them and they were comfortable. But it was true, he didn't have any cash on him... He supposed it wasn't the worst encounter he'd ever had on the street... that guy on the bus he was reminded of the other day was worse. At least this guy didn't call him a "f*cking fa*ggot"—although that might have been implied by pointing out that Connor had nice shoes.

He shoved his gloved hands in his pockets, sailing right past the fountain and exiting through the other street framing the square. He supposed the station wasn't in the best part of downtown... that's probably why Connor was so unfamiliar with this part of town. Detroit was a little different than when he was in college, and that was only ten years ago... when he moved back out here, North and Markus had told him straight-up which parts of town to avoid. He'd have to keep it in mind if he and Hank walked around for lunch again in the future...

He checked his GPS, making sure he wasn't wandering too far away from the coffee shop. It was another five minutes on foot, probably less since Connor was a fast walker. He still had a little time, from the estimate the website gave Captain Fowler... Connor realized that he still wasn't able to get a better picture of Andrea from that conversation, just that she was "a little wild". That could mean anything... Connor didn't want to think too hard about it. He supposed Hank would probably tell him more about his marriage someday... and Connor accepted with some dread that he'd have to open up about what happened with—that guy sometime, too. At least, if this relationship was going to be serious... Who was Connor kidding? Hank already made a big show of taking off his wedding ring... Connor regretted a bit that he had left Hank's house after such a big gesture, looking back on it—especially since he had ended up just dicking around at the mall, and manically playing Skyrim so he could build his fake husband a house... But, well, there'd be plenty of time in the future. He and Hank both had their own lives outside of each other—Hank had work to do around his house to get ready for his son to visit, and Connor didn't want to lose himself by getting absorbed into Hank too much. He still had to live as "liminal Connor" a good chunk of the time—and if he didn't know who that was, what could he offer to Hank in a relationship? He supposed that framing it that way was still making it all about Hank, wasn't it... Hmm. It would be good for Connor to do some soul-searching, like North had done after she met Markus—he doubted he'd want to go apprentice at the dungeon, but he could at least take up kickboxing, or something else that he enjoyed—he was tragically creatively-bankrupt, and had only succeeded in creating a laughably literal straight-lines-only still life at that painting class of Markus', when he and North went to support him—but maybe he could find something like that he at least enjoyed, even if he wasn't good at it. He did quite enjoy listening to music... but he never wanted to learn music theory—music was one of the few things he could engage with emotionally, rather than logically. He didn't want to start thinking of music in terms of chords, or progression, or time signatures—he didn't want the experience to be technical for him. It was one of the few things he had that wasn't technical... Connor even found himself "analyzing" when he was getting cozy with Hank... although he hoped he could break that habit, and go with the flow and be swept away, like it seemed like other people could...

Connor shivered involuntarily—from the cold, and nothing else. He checked his GPS again—two minutes away. He could warm up in the shop a bit, then take the long way around back to the station. It wasn't snowing yet—but it would by tonight, and enough to stick. He was glad North already said he could spend the night—he hoped Markus would drive carefully on his way back to the house, it might even be better if he stayed the night at Carl's. He could see him some other time...

Connor turned onto the street the coffee shop was on, and it looked like it was part of a little strip mall. Oh... it looked like there was a guy laying on the sidewalk, all wrapped up in a blanket. He didn't have any shoes on, his ashy feet were sticking right out of the bottom. Geez... that must be so cold. Connor was on duty, he couldn't just ignore him... "Excuse me, sir? Are you all right?" He asked softly, in case he was asleep.

"—it's f*ckin' over they know it—I know it, that's why—they don't want you to KNOW about it, that's why, I'M SAYING—" He started yelling. Connor backed away instinctively.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone, sorry." Connor started walking away quickly, the guy still yelling about god knows what behind him. His heartbeat had picked up. That was one thing Connor had a really hard time dealing with—it was why he quit pursuing criminal psychology—he really couldn't deal with crazy people. Like, people who were severely unwell, and unpredictable. His fight-or-flight instincts would kick in, and he just wanted to get far away from them—he just couldn't help it. He had responded to a few calls when he was a fresh detective at Novi—they were called to do a wellness check on this guy screaming outside a convenience store, and when they approached him he just started flipping out—he had a 40 that he smashed on the concrete, yelling at the top of his lungs that he was going to kill them while waving it around—Connor wasn't a physical fighter, and something in his brain just went "lizard"—so he drew his gun and yelled, "Drop the weapon!" One of the few times he had ever done so—the guy was so clearly unwell he didn't know what the hell he would do—he realized at that point that the only thing stopping a crazy person from attacking him was their ability to understand the consequences of doing so. There was nothing physically stopping them from attacking him—they could do it at any time, unless Connor had the ability to stop them first. The only thing keeping "polite society" in check was motivation, rationale, and the threat of consequence—but once someone went "lizard brain", all that was out the window—only physical force could stop them. It was a frightening, and sobering realization for Connor, someone who was non-violent by nature. It had happened to Daniel—it could theoretically happen to anyone, and that thought frightened Connor more than anything.

He slowed as he reached the door to the coffee shop, taking out his phone. That was a thought for off-duty Connor... right now he had an obligation to at least try to help this guy. He decided to get out Hank's business card and call his desk phone, so that way it was a bit more "official". The line rang twice.

"Hank here."

"Hey, it's me."

"Connor? What are you doin' callin' my work phone?" He chuckled. "sh*t—I almost ignored it 'cause I'm goin' on break."

"Well, you're not on break yet, Hank." Connor rolled his eyes. "Anyway—I wanted to see if there was an officer available to do a wellness check. A gentleman with brown hair—I can't really tell much else, he's wrapped up in a blanket on Park and Monterey, kind of near the theater."

"He's in a blanket on the sidewalk? What, a homeless guy?"

"Yeah. He's yelling stuff out at everyone walking by."

"All right..." Hank sighed. "I'll send a guy out there." He paused. "Some reason you can't do it, Connor?"

"Well—I'm heading back with the coffees. My arms are full." Sorry, Hank... Connor felt really guilty about lying to him. It might have been the first time he'd done it—if he didn't count lies by omission. No... it was true that Connor "didn't have any siblings", that was the only thing he could think of off the top of his head.

"All right—this guy's in a blanket? What color?" He heard him grunt lightly. "I might as well go down there myself—hey, head back to the coffee shop. I'll meet ya there."

"Oh—you really don't have to do that, Hank." His heartbeat started to pick up again. "Please—I just want to hurry back. It's cold, I almost wished I drove instead." He laughed awkwardly. "Please—I'm on my way back right now." He was wracked with pangs of guilt for lying, again.

Hank was quiet on the other end. "You okay, Connor?"

"Um... no, I'm sorry." He let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I'm sorry, Hank—I wasn't really honest just now. I just got to the coffee shop—I actually tried to talk to the guy, but he started yelling crazy stuff, and I just couldn't deal with it very well." He felt ashamed for a so-called professional. "I'm not good at dealing with crazy people—like really crazy people. And I'm on break too, and everyone's waiting for me—I just really didn't want to deal with it, I'm sorry." He clammed up as a young couple walked by him on the sidewalk.

"Well sh*t, Connor—you coulda said that, you know." His voice was quieter. He was still in the office—Connor should have just called his cell phone, then he could have walked away for some privacy. "sh*t—you think I like dealin' with crazy people? Nobody does—but it's my job. And I'd rather go over there to back you up." Connor was watching the guy down the street—he didn't appear to be moving, but he saw the young couple watch ing him and swerving to walk as far from him as they could on the sidewalk, so he was probably still yelling sh*t. "So wait—you said you just got to the coffee shop?"

"Um, yeah—I'm right outside the door." He didn't want to call inside—Connor moved in pretty liberal spaces, so he was well-aware that a lot of people his age didn't look favorably at the police. He'd already been called a pig and a bastard a few times... Actually, he was surprised Josh even still wanted to associate with him, he seemed to hate the police quite a bit. Markus did too, now that he thought about it... Connor was lucky that Markus had met him when he still wanted to be a lawyer. Well—Markus always made the distinction that he didn't like "the police" as an institution—like Connor didn't like the meat industry. Ugh... he hoped Markus wouldn't agree that was an accurate comparison.

"You want me to pick you up? It is pretty f*ckin' cold—oh, you wanted to walk more though, right?"

Connor felt himself smile, though it felt a little drained. "I'm fine, Hank. Honestly, I'm a bit ashamed of myself. It's not very professional of me to avoid the people I'm supposed to protect and serve, is it?" Hank was quiet on the other end. "I'll be fine—I'm going to clear my head a bit more on the walk back. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Well... Don't beat yourself up for that, Connor. I know you're good at your job, everyone here does. Even that f*cker Gavin—he was watching the whole time you were interviewing Daniel, and he didn't say a word—until he and Ben got called away, anyway."

"Really?" That was interesting to imagine...

"Really. Don't worry, baby—I'll see you when you get back." Connor's blood ran cold. "Whoops—hey Chris, you didn't hear that."

"Are you f*cking serious, Hank?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

Hank laughed. "Hah, I'm kiddin'! There's no one here, don't worry—that's why I said it." He kept laughing.

"You think that's really funny, don't you?" Connor found himself laughing, in disbelief—like when they said something so off-color on South Park his brain didn't know what else to do but translate it into laughter. "You bastard... I'm going to drink your cider on the way back."

"Hey, at least I got you to laugh!" Connor realized he was getting cold standing out here, so he decided to just walk into the coffee shop. He smiled at the young girl behind the counter, then went over to the side by the window. "Hey—I'll send a guy down there to check on the guy, though."

"Thank you."

"Seriously, though—" There was a muffled noise on the other end, like he was cupping the receiver with his hand. "Don't worry, baby—I don't think any less of you. I'll see you when you get back, okay?" Hank probably thought he sounded really smooth—but the call quality sounded like sh*t since he was talking so close to an analogue receiver. Well... Connor could play along, at least.

"Okay... I'll see you later—" He almost called Hank "honey", but it didn't feel right. He'd have to think of something later... he wanted to call Hank something cute, too... He never had the opportunity to before, so it just didn't come naturally. But now there had been too long of a pause, so anything he tried to call him now would just sound stilted.

"Aw, I don't get a cute name?" Geez... Hank was too good at reading his tone of voice.

Connor smirked to himself. "I'll think of one the next time we're alone. I may have to workshop a few until something feels right."

"Geez, so stiff—just do what feels right, baby." He was whispering right into the phone again, the call got all scratchy.

"All right, honey. See you later." He didn't wait for Hank this time, he just ended the call rather quickly, out of embarrassment. It would probably end up being "honey" since it was another H-sound... He didn't associate it with anything else—his parents usually called each other by name, but sometimes "darling". North and Markus called each other "baby". Well, sometimes North would playfully say something like, "Yes, my love?" Connor always thought that was cute—the lonely spinster in him wished that someone would talk like that to him someday, looking up at him adoringly like his cat did when he was petting the sides of her face, and she was a purr factory—but that seemed a bit too cheesy for Hank. Well... Hank could be cheesy in other ways.

Connor approached the counter with a smile. "Hi, I'm here to pick up an online order? It's a little big... thank you for being so accommodating." He laughed softly.

"Hey, no problem—it keeps me busy." The girl behind the counter seemed really chill—she had a septum piercing and a few greyscale tattoos on her arms of fern leaves, and flowers. She checked a ticket on the counter in front of two of those cardboard drink holders, with six cups each.

"It should be for Jeffrey, or maybe Connor?" Connor felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"I got a dozen for Jeffrey." She brought the first one carefully to the counter. "Hey, do you want a bag for these? They're a little tricky to hold, but you can balance them with your hand flat in the middle."

"Oh—that would be perfect, thank you!" His gay was showing quite spectacularly. "Oh—actually, I wanted to get one more hot cider? I want to leave a bigger tip for the trouble."

She laughed. "Well, that's sweet of you. I won't say no." She rung up another cider. "Four twenty-four. Oh—if you want to leave a tip, I have to enter it in first."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah—I know, it sucks."

Connor laughed awkwardly. He hoped it didn't come off as showy... "Okay, just put ten dollars on there."

"Really? That's so sweet." She smiled, then pointed at the pastry case. "You wanna take a little something with you?"

"Oh..." Connor found himself getting more awkward. Damn his social anxiety... "I'm fine, thank you—I'd like to, but everyone else would probably be mad that I got a little something extra." He tapped his card and confirmed the charges.

"I get it." She reached across the counter to grab a little card. "Well, how about this..." She quickly punched in several circles on it. "Look at that—next one's free."

"Oh—thank you! I work nearby, so I'm sure I'll be back."

"Oh yeah, where?" Her smile was casual.

"Um—I'm in a records office. It's boring stuff, I'm afraid."

She laughed lightly. "I get it." The guilty part of Connor's conscience wanted to blurt out, "I'm actually a cop—please don't hate me! I'm trying my best..." "I'll be right up with that cider."

"Thank you." Connor stood over by the window. He couldn't see the guy on the sidewalk from this angle. He was curious who they would send... Probably not Tina, or the other girl he had only met once... Officer Pearson? Was that her name? Or was it just "Person"—Connor would have to double-check. Oh—he got out his phone, checking his message:

Hank>>'Hey can you say that again on lunch ;) ;)'

Geez... Connor had created a monster.

"Hot cider for Jeffrey."

"Oh—" Connor quickly pocketed his phone. "That must be mine?"

"You got it."

"Thank you—my name is Connor, Jeffrey is my boss who made the order." He laughed awkwardly, trying to finagle how to carry both bags and his loose extra cider... Maybe it was a bad idea to order that. Well, he could consider this his and drink it on the way back—it might help warm him up.

"Ah, I see." She gave him a little smile. "Well, see ya around, Connor. You have a good one."

"Thanks, you too." He smiled, holding one bag by the handle, tucking the other one against his body, balancing it on his forearm. He picked up the extra cider with his free hand.

"You got it all?"

"I think so, thank you." He turned up the gay a little more, as he typically did when giving women a compliment. "I like your tattoos by the way—the fern is really beautiful the way it wraps around."

She glanced down at her arm, turning it a bit. "Oh, thanks! Hey—take care, stay warm."

He was already at the door. "Thank you, take care." He pushed the door open with his body, thankfully it had one of those thin push bars. He debated which was the fastest way back to the station—oh, it looked like that guy was sitting up, someone was talking to him—oh great, it was that guy with a cart full of sh*t. Well... he couldn't just pretend that he hadn't seen them. He might as well see if the guy was lucid, and give an update in case the responding officer was still en route... "Is everything all right here?" The guy with the cart shot him a glare.

"What's all that? Hey buddy—they give you change for that coffee?"

"No. But I have an extra one here, do you want it?" The guy stared at Connor while he extended the cup a bit.

"What is it?"

"It's a hot spiced cider." He kept almost saying "hard cider"—Hank would probably make fun of him if he knew that was his drink of choice these days, the rare few times he drank.

"Are you f*ckin' serious? Do I look like I need that sh*t? I need some f*ckin' money, dude."

"I'm sorry. It's true that I don't carry cash." Connor walked around, willing himself to be calm, so he could see the guy in the blanket's face. He actually looked a bit like Robin Williams after he popped back out of Jumanji. "Sir, are you all right? I'm a police detective, so there may be someone coming out to talk to you..."

"f*ck! f*ck! f*ckING f*ck f*ck f*ck—" The guy just started yelling his head off, shaking with each "f*ck!"

"Hey, what the hell? You're scarin' 'im—f*ckin' pig, just piss off!"

Connor shrugged as much as he could, willing himself to maintain. "Fine. Have a good day." He turned away, moving the loop of the other bag's handle around his free arm.

"Tch. f*ckin' cops—you'd rather bother us, why don't you look into who's goin' 'round killin' guys sleepin' on the street?"

The other guy was still yelling incoherently, but that part caught Connor's attention. "What was that?"

"Pft. You haven't even heard about it? f*ckin' cops don't know what the hell they're doin'. No wonder the world's so f*cked."

"Excuse me—can you tell me a bit more about that?" He tried to tune out the guy flipping out sitting on the edge of the curb, but it was quite difficult.

"Look, you're scarin' 'im! Just piss off, pig! Do your f*ckin' job and figure it out!"

Connor took a step back. "Very well. There's still an officer on the way to check on him. Have a nice day." Connor couldn't leave fast enough. He wished he had a free hand so he could call Hank... well, he could down this hot cider, but it would probably burn the sh*t out of his tongue.

OOO

Hank rubbed his beard. "You think he wasn't just full of sh*t?"

"I don't know. It's worth looking into, at least."

Hank breathed heavily. "Well, we can go bring it up with Fowler." He took another sip of his hot cider. "—mm, that is pretty good. I don't know if I'd pay four bucks for it if it was my money, though."

Connor laughed a little uncomfortably. "Oh, is that a lot?"

"Well—it's just hot apple juice, right?"

"Well—I saw her ladling it out of a thing, I think they marinate it with spices there in the shop. I think they press the apples there, too. Look—it still has tiny bits of pulp."

Hank peered into his tall cup. "I guess so." Oh no... maybe Connor was as out of touch as Lucille Bluth. No—no, that was impossible—he at least knew bananas were typically... um... sh*t. A dollar? Damnit... "Well, anyway—that wasn't your break, since it was a business expense." Hank winked at him. "Let's go on break."

"Oh... are you sure that's okay?"

"Yeah—Jeffrey doesn't give a sh*t. He'd probably tell you the same thing." Hank stood from his desk. "You wanna walk? I know a spot we can walk inside."

"Oh—sure, that'd be nice, actually." Connor smiled. "Oh, wait—I'd rather talk to Captain Fowler now, if that's all right with you. Otherwise I won't be able to put it out of my mind."

"That's fine—probably a good call." Hank grabbed his jacket. It looked like that jacket had seen a lot—but the roughness of it suited Hank. Connor followed him up to the Captain's office. Once again, as per their little ritual, Hank opened the door, standing aside to hold it at the top for Connor.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Connor stepped through. Captain Fowler set his straw back in his cider—it looked like he had been licking the whipped cream off the side.

"Boys? Something else I can help you with?" For some reason, hearing him call Hank a "boy" when they were the same age was a little funny.

"Yeah—you hear anything about homeless guys getting killed?"

Captain Fowler's eyebrows went up. "Well, I wasn't expecting that." He pushed his drink aside, tapping on his mouse. "—there was a case a few days ago, Ben handled it..." He turned his monitor, showing the police report. Connor leaned in so he could read it. "We haven't closed it yet—but it's looking like a dead end. Only witness couldn't identify the guy—basically this guy stabbed him and ran away. We don't even know if it was a guy, just speaking colloquially. No murder weapon found at the scene, nothing." 'Male, approximate age 50-60, 5'11"'—

"'Approximate age? They couldn't even identify him?"

"No. Lotta homeless guys don't have ID on 'em—dental records came back with nothing. There wasn't really anything else we could do."

"I see..." Apparently this had happened downtown, though not particularly close to the station. Word had probably gotten around... Connor wasn't sure how "in communication" all the homeless people were around the city, but he could imagine "Have you heard about that guy who got stabbed up on 3rd Street?" would at least get around.

Hank thumbed the side of his hot drink. "May have been another homeless person who stabbed him. Probably impossible to track, in that case."

"Exactly."

Connor couldn't help but get a bad feeling about all this. "I really wish I had gotten that guy to tell me more."

"Ah, that guy probably didn't know sh*t. That's why he told 'us pigs' to do our job." He clapped Connor on the back. "So, let's go do it. Oh—after our break." Connor almost laughed, even though it wasn't funny. "Don't call us unless it's an emergency, Jeffrey."

Captain Fowler shook his head. "Have a good break, Hank. Oh, Connor—go ahead and take a longer break. However long it took you to get all those orders and go down to get it. I'll still consider you on the clock."

"Oh—are you sure? Thank you, Captain."

Hank grinned. "Yeah, thanks Jeff. Let's go, Connor."

"Hank—I still expect you back at the regular time."

"What? Hey, that's not fair—you really expect me to leave my poor partner out there by himself in the cold?" Hank was really laying it on thick—for some reason it made him think of that scene in Spongebob where Mr. Krabs is playing the world's smallest violin.

Captain Fowler swirled his straw in his drink. "Hank, you better be back in that desk in twenty minutes, or I'm taking it off your timesheet."

"Fine! Go ahead! Let's go, Connor." He led Connor away by the shoulder. Connor was closer to the door now, so he opened it. "Thank you." Hank said it emphatically. Connor found himself hoping that Captain Fowler would consider the way Hank was touching him a neutral action... and arguing about how he didn't want to leave Connor alone on his break... Hoo, boy.

OOO

Hank opened the door, and Connor was immediately hit by a musty paper smell. It wasn't unpleasant, per say, but it was very noticeable. "You know, I always heard about this place, but I never got around to coming in."

"I'm surprised by that. You seem like you'd love books."

"That's true." Connor didn't have the heart to tell Hank that he never had a desire to come this this famous used bookstore because the place looked like a sh*tty run-down factory from the outside. Connor's weird germophobia was triggered by weird old buildings, filled with uncirculated old air... but he'd try his best to push it out of his mind and relax. He was surprised this place turned out to be so close to the station—but he felt a little bad that they would be taking their sweet time on break, including walking here and back. Well... apparently Captain Fowler didn't care, either about Connor taking his time or deducting pay from Hank.

Connor found himself looking at the directory map. Wow, apparently they had a section on the first floor for ' Magic/Freemasonry ' . Alrighty then... Oh, that section was pretty much right by the entrance—right next to ' Bible Study ', that was pretty damn funny. At least, to Connor.

He found himself wandering towards that section. The aisles of books stacked to the ceiling were a bit claustrophobic—but at least there was a lot of natural light coming in from the huge paneled windows. Connor didn't touch the books, but he leaned in close so he could read the spines as he passed. "What caught your eye, Connor?" Hank was using an "indoor voice".

He laughed lightly. "Honestly, I was curious what they meant by 'magic' and 'Freemasonry'. I couldn't tell if they were one category from the map." Hank chuckled.

"Yeah, Andrea'd be all into this sh*t." He tipped out a thick book that looked like a tome. "'Practical Everyday Magic for Kitchen Witches.' Damn. Maybe that's how she was so good at it."

Connor hoped Hank hadn't noticed his eyebrows raise. "Did Andrea consider herself a witch?"

"Well... kinda. She said she was 'Wiccan' when we first met—I don't know if she believes in all that anymore." He put the book back. "That fancy boyfriend of hers sure doesn't." Well—Connor probably wouldn't get a better opening than that.

"You've never really told me about Andrea." He spoke softly, since there were other people milling about the labyrinthine aisles. "What was your marriage really like?"

He heard Hank sigh. "There's no point gettin' into all that, Connor." He rubbed Connor's back with the heel of his palm. "If you really wanna know, I'll sit down with ya and tell you all about it, someday."

Connor supposed that was only fair. "Okay." Hank looked at him, and he could probably tell that Connor wasn't satisfied with that answer.

"Is there anything you want to know in particular?" He sounded resigned.

"Well... is there anything I should know before I meet Cole?" Connor almost touched a bright red book, but stopped himself. "He lives with his mom most of the time... I just thought it might be helpful if I knew more about her, as a mother."

Hank rubbed his beard with his other hand, his palm still going across Connor's shoulders. "Well... Cole loves his Mom. Honestly, I hope he stays a Momma's Boy forever." Connor laughed softly. "That's not to say he doesn't love me, but—well, I don't get to see him all the time." Hank pulled out the spine of another book with what looked like the Eye of Providence. "Honestly—we got divorced when he was six. Well—she moved out with him when he was six, I guess it took another year for the divorce to be finalized. But I'd be surprised if he remembers much from when we were married." He squeezed Connor's shoulder. "Honestly, I hope he doesn't remember his Mom and Dad acting like strangers in their own home."

Connor put his hand on Hank's. "I see. I'm sorry for asking—I guess you didn't want to spend your break talking about something like that, huh?" Hank surprised him by twining their fingers.

"Ah, don't worry about it. Guess I haven't talked about her much, huh? I don't blame ya for being curious." Then he leaned in close to Connor's ear. "Hey, so—do I get to ask a question now?" Connor got a little nervous spike—it wasn't the pleasant rumbly voice Connor usually associated with Hank whispering in his ear. "What's that famous guy's name? I promise I won't do anything, I just wanna know."

Connor knew that was coming. Hank pulled back a bit, an uncharacteristic hardness in his expression. Well, uncharacteristic as of late—Hank had given him that same look outside the Eden Club, when he was lecturing him as the "new kid". Man—that seemed like so long ago, but it hadn't even been a week. Remembering that Hank, and seeing his expression now—it made him feel so distant, Connor didn't like it. He found himself almost clutching Hank's hand. "Hank... I'm sorry, but I'll answer pretty much any other question you have. But I don't want to talk about that... I actually recently decided I don't even want to think about that guy anymore, I don't even want his name in my head. I just want to move on from it, and forget it." His voice was barely a whisper. He hoped Hank could read between the lines, that it was a bit worse than just having a sh*tty ex-boyfriend...

Hank pulled him in a bit closer. "I get it—sorry I asked. I won't ask anymore. Promise."

Connor tried to smile up at him, but it felt disingenuous. "Thanks. Well—I'll give you a freebie." He leaned in right next to Hank's ear, pushing his hair back and out of the way. "He might be being investigated by the FBI." Sorry, Jayden—although, technically, he only said, "You didn't hear this from me", and Connor didn't reveal who he heard it from. He never said anything about not repeating it. "So if I'm lucky, he'll just get put away and I'll never have to think about him again."

Hank's eyebrows went up. "For real?"

"Really. Keep that to yourself, though."

"sh*t." Hank was rubbing his beard. "Is this guy a politician?"

"Never you mind. You just promised." Connor moved Hank's hair, so it swooped a bit before tucking it back behind his ear. He had said "viking" this morning because he knew that would appeal to Hank's masculine sensibilities, but his half-pony reminded Connor more of a Druid, or a Night Elf or something. He still thought Hank looked really handsome, though. "Please—I'd like to overwrite all my bad memories with good ones." He gave Hank's hand a little squeeze. "Okay?"

Hank got what Connor perceived as a shy smile. "Okay."

Connor reached around to the other side of his neck, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. "Thanks." Hank looked like a kid who had just talked his way out of getting away with something. "Oh—did you have something else you want to ask me?"

Hank was rubbing his beard. He was so close, Connor could hear the little scratchy noise it made. "Hmm... I'll have to think of somethin' good. Oh—this is just something I've been curious about. How'd you know you were gay? I mean, how old were you?" That was a bit out of left-field.

"Hmm... I don't remember how old, but I was definitely a kid. Oh..." He laughed lightly. "This is a little embarrassing, but I remember two of my childhood crushes. One was Leo from Titanic... and the other was Luke Skywalker."

Hank chuckled. "That's quite a collection. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed prettyboys, huh?"

Connor rolled his eyes. "It's just a coincidence." Damnit—Hank was setting him up for that one. Well—Hank wasn't a "prettyboy", they were both at least aware of that much. "I don't actually particularly care about Star Wars one way or the other—I suppose the older movies have a seventies charm to them..."

"'Older', he says..."

Connor snickered. "Sorry. They are older, compared to the prequels, and the newer ones... Oh—what I was saying is, that I don't have strong feelings towards any of the movies, but I have a friend who absolutely loves them. Particularly the older ones—he loves films from the seventies and eighties, he talks about them all the time." They were slowly moving through the 'Magic' aisle, still all hooked onto each other. "I told him that I thought Luke Skywalker was cute when I was a stupid kid, and he still sends me goofy Star Wars videos, occasionally."

"Yeah? Which friend is that?"

"Actually, my friend York—my other acquaintance from the FBI." He hadn't actually gotten around to reaching out to York that night—Connor had developed a bit of a ritual where he would watch a weird old movie before catching up with York—that way they had something to talk about. York loved talking at length about films, both obscure and mainstream—so especially if Connor might end up info-dumping on him about his new relationship, he at least wanted York to have something he was excited to talk about, too. Connor might have some free time Saturday afternoon or Sunday... he wasn't sure yet. Actually... Connor felt a bit bad about this, but thinking about "crazy" people earlier also made him think of York... He knew York wasn't crazy, he was just eccentric—and after he explained the whole "Zach" thing to him, the one time they ever talked about it—he understood it from York's perspective, at least—he saw how it could give him peace and comfort, to think about it that way. But Connor admitted, that the first time he heard York quietly whisper, "Isn't that right, Zach?" while just the two of them were talking... Connor thought it was pretty freaking weird, especially since York just moved on without acknowledging it at all. "Oh—to answer your question, I guess I was maybe around five or six? I was really young. I didn't really understand what 'gay' meant until I was a little older, though."

"I see. Interesting." Hank pulled out a book called ' The Divine Feminine ' off the shelf. "Whoa—hello." On the cover was an illustrated naked woman levitating in a black void, surrounded by stars and other symbols, holding a staff in one hand and a serpent by the neck in the other. "Wow—I should buy one of these to figure out what my cool, witchy Goddess looks like." Connor snickered quietly. He supposed that just like "Zach", whatever Hank's beliefs were about this Goddess of his, Connor could at least acknowledge that it was important to Hank, even if he couldn't understand it.

"I'm sorry—I feel like we kind of wasted our break." He wound his arm around Hank's back. "It was sweet of you to walk us down here—it'd be fun to look around sometime when we have more time."

"Yeah? Well, we can always come back." To be honest, the mustiness of all the books was getting to Connor a bit. Apparently, a lot of people found that "cozy" or "romantic"—Connor just felt like he was breathing in a bunch of rancid dust. "I don't think it was a waste at all—I even got a kiss out of it." Geez... if there was someone on the other side of one of these shelves, Connor imagined that they'd be hearing quite the tea. At least they never said where they worked... right?

OOO

It was still bothering Connor. The homeless guys in Novi were mostly older, and were actually somewhat friendly. He couldn't fathom why someone would bother to kill any of them... Was that just a one-off incident, and deerstalker guy was full of sh*t, like Hank said? It was impossible to say, at this stage... But honestly, that wasn't the only reason he was still obsessing over that interaction. Yes, he hadn't given deerstalker guy any money—but did he have to be such an asshole?

"What's on your mind, Connor?"

He realized he was tapping his pen, but he didn't stop—just switched to tapping his notepad so the sound was less noticeable. "Oh, just that guy who told me about the stabbings. He was just really aggressive—I'm just replaying it in my head, to see what I could have done better."

"Aggressive, how?"

"Oh—he asked if I had any change, and I don't—I never carry cash on me, you saw the other day."

"Uh-huh."

"He was just such a dick right off the bat—even if I had a few bucks on me, I wouldn't have given it to him." Hank actually laughed. "Maybe that's callous of me."

Hank shrugged. "Hey, it's your money. You can do whatever you want with it."

"... I guess." Connor realized he had gone out of his way to give the girl at the coffee shop a fat tip, when they had already received a tip, just for doing their job—but the thought of giving a homeless guy $10 was ludicrous to him—Connor supposed he was still his parents' child in some ways, unfortunately. "... I guess he didn't like it when I offered to give him one of the ciders, but it was so awkward I didn't know what else to do."

"Hah! Yeah, I bet—the guy's homeless, Connor—he probably needs some f*ckin' food, or beer or weed to take the edge off." Connor's eyebrows furrowed. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that—people spend their own money on sh*t like that all the time, why's it so wrong when a dude who's got nothin' is doin' it? He's not gonna be able to save up for a house with a couple bucks here and there."

"... I guess."

"Ah, don't take it personally, Connor. If I was livin' on the streets, especially when it's this f*ckin' cold out—I'd be miserable every day, too. No wonder he snapped at ya."

Connor let his eyes close. "I suppose." Markus would probably be annoyed and disappointed with him if he saw that interaction... Markus did a lot of outreach and advocacy work, even for groups which didn't directly affect him. But Connor couldn't help it—even though he was technically still on duty, he felt like he was "liminal Connor" who was just walking around doing errands in that moment—and on his off-time, people who got all up in his face in public just activated his fight-or-flight. Even if they were being friendly, he still had an introverted tendency to want to exit the conversation. And he didn't deal well with crazy people, he never had... even Markus couldn't fault him for that, right? "Oh—who did they end up sending to do a wellness check on that guy?"

"Hm? Oh, the other guy—Robert took care of it. He's used to it—and he's a big guy, people tend to not try to f*ck with him."

"Is he the guy you were talking to earlier? Is his last name 'Lewis'?"

"Yeah—that's him. Him and Tina are partners, but he just went out real quick to deal with it since it was so close to the station."

"Ah—I see." Connor stopped tapping his pen. "Did he already come back, did you hear about it?"

"Ah—nah, he must have kept goin' on patrol. I didn't think to ask, to be honest with ya."

"I see. That's okay." Connor turned to face Hank with a small smile. "I could see you guys laughing from the Captain's office earlier—what were you talking about?"

"Oh—when was that? Uh... oh! Hah." Hank grinned, rubbing his beard. "He said next time he'll get the coffee so he can spit in Gavin's."

Connor stopped himself from laughing. "That's not very nice."

"What? You heard him with that weird passive-aggressive sh*t, calling you 'prettyboy'."

Connor willed his voice to neutral. "Am I not a 'prettyboy'?"

"Well—" Hank made an exasperated noise. "I don't think he meant it as a compliment, Connor."

"That wasn't what I asked." The desk was quiet. "Am I, or am I not, a prettyboy?"

"Haah... No, I wouldn't say that, Connor—because a guy who's saying it that way is just being a f*ckin' asshole."

"Interesting." Something rather odd did happen when Connor brought back all the coffees—first he put Ben's in the fridge for him later, then he checked his phone and went around giving everyone their correct drinks—and when he got back to their side of the office and handed Gavin his dark chocolate cherry mocha, he said, "Thanks, pal"—but like, in a really pointed way. Connor said, "No problem, Chief," thinking to himself, "I can escalate this all the way to 'gaylord', buddy." But Gavin actually picked up on what he was doing—he actually laughed a bit, and said, "Oh, you know that guy, too?" Then he snorted to himself and said, "Hey, long as you don't call me 'gaylord', we're all square, buddy." Connor was a little surprised—so Gavin actually got the last laugh, as it were. It was a very strange interaction—it was almost like Gavin gave him some begrudging respect because he had remembered a specific bit from a kind of douchey comedian from the 2000s? Connor only remembered it because they replayed him all the time on Comedy Station... It was just odd. Connor wasn't one of those insecure guys who had to have the last word, so he just let it go. Well... maybe sometimes he liked to have the last word, indirectly. "Well, what am I, then?"

"Connor, you know damn well. Why don't you check your messages." Connor got a small, shy smile.

OOO

Connor felt like he needed to do something to put himself in a better mood before they went on lunch—he still felt a little weird about that whole interaction with those guys on the street. He couldn't help but worry about the plural... he said "killing guys on the street," implying there might be more victims than they knew about... The whole thing was worrying. Connor wished that Ben had more backup on the night shift—though he supposed a group of officers was enough, even if he was the only active detective not on call. Well... Connor found himself selfishly hoping that nothing would happen, he had been looking forward to seeing North all week, and Hank had prepared so much to have a great weekend with Cole—he supposed that Hank mentioned that Gavin would be the first one called in if there was a homicide, after Ben. "If it was really bad, they'd call you and me." He hoped nothing bad would happen... what was the purpose of killing someone who had nothing and was just trying to survive on the streets? Unless severe mental illness or drugs were involved—then all bets were off.

Haah... Connor wished he could distill the feeling of that mysterious relaxing yoga video, and just keep a little dispenser of it on his desk. Actually... there was someone he could think of who came close. Amanda didn't call her "that bleeding-heart Bodhisattva" for nothing.

Connor smiled at Hank. "Would you be interested in stopping by Lucy's office? Daniel's defense attorney."

Hank rubbed his chin. "Why, to follow up on our case?"

"Exactly. I think it would be wise for us to be kept abreast of what's going on. We'll probably be called to testify, after all."

"'Abreast'? Geez..." Hank shook his head. "All right—let's go on a field trip, then."

Connor gave him a knowing smile. "We can go on lunch afterwards, if you want."

"Ooh." Hank didn't even bother to disguise his tone. Connor almost laughed. "Well—lemme tell Jeffrey we'll be out and then we'll go on lunch, so he won't bother us." He picked up his desk phone, pressing one of his speed dials. "Hey. Me an' Connor are checking up on Daniel Lambert. Yeah. We'll just go on lunch after. Hah! You got it." He hung up the phone with a grin. "We're good to go."

"What were you laughing at?"

"Oh, Jeffrey just said, 'So you're saying not to bother you unless the city's on fire, right?'" Hank stood up, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. "He gets it."

"Well... hopefully he doesn't get it too much."

"Nah." Hank turned off his monitor. "He parks right next to me, so I woulda seen him." That statement made Connor a bit embarrassed. "Hey—you wanna drive? You know where this lady's office is."

"Oh—sure, I can drive." Connor smiled. It would be the first time Hank had been in his car. He just hoped he wouldn't try to backseat drive and say stuff like, "You coulda made the light!"

OOO

Hank was looking at all the knobs on his stereo, and the circular vents sticking out of the shiny tortoiseshell panel. "Your car's pretty nice, Connor."

"Oh... thank you." This car was already twelve years old... he hoped Hank wouldn't ask anymore about it.

"You know, I think it's time I upgrade to a bigger ride." Hank pushed himself back against his seat—he had adjusted it back as far as it would go, obviously he was much taller than North. Even with that, he looked like he was crammed into it—his head was practically touching the roof. "It's bad on my knees gettin' in and out of that f*ckin' low car all the time."

"I think that's a good idea." Connor smiled. "I had wondered about that myself, honestly. How are you doing in my car?"

"I'll manage."

Connor laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"Not your fault, Connor." Hank was gripping the little handle above the window, watching the city go by. He thankfully wasn't being a backseat driver. Connor knew how to get to Lucy's office from the freeway, so he had actually led himself there organically without having to rely on his GPS. He supposed a small part of him wanted to show off to Hank, a little bit. "Man—Cole's about average height for a kid now, but I'm sure he'll sprout up like me in no time. Andrea's actually pretty tall for a woman—she's around five-nine, I think."

"Oh, really? That's interesting."

"Yeah—and she's got really long, dark curly hair." He demonstratively gestured down his shoulders. "You know that actress Andie MacDowell?"

"The name sounds familiar..."

"She was in Groundhog Day with Bill Murray."

"Oh, her! Yeah—okay, she did have big hair. So Andrea looks like her?" Connor appreciated that Hank was giving him a bit more, after pretty much shutting him down at the bookstore.

"Not in the face—but the hair is definitely similar."

"I see... interesting."

Hank almost snorted to himself. "Yeah—Andrea was an interesting woman, all right. I think that boring boyfriend of hers has rubbed off on her too much though, if you ask me." He was staring unfocused out the windshield. "Ah—guess that's not fair, she probably grew out of all that sh*t, it was just me who was stuck in the past. Feeling fat and out of shape, and boring—just drinking all the frustration away, not appreciating what I had." It hurt Connor to hear him say it out loud.

"I'm sorry..." They stopped in line at a red light. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Well... part of me feels a bit guilty, like this version of you who wants to take better care of yourself should have been Andrea's..."

"Don't feel guilty about that." He saw Hank's hand in his peripheral vision. Since they were stopped at a light, Connor gave him his hand. "Honestly Connor—Andrea peacing out was a wake-up call for me." He squeezed Connor's hand. "I don't think anything less extreme than that would have snapped me out of it. I hate to admit it, though." Connor was almost staring at the red light, willing it not to change. "So—don't feel bad. Hey—if it makes you feel better, maybe there's an alternate dimension out there where I got my sh*t together and stayed married, and you got with that guy in your computer class so he didn't wrap his car around a tree." Connor snickered softly, even though that was such a grim statement.

"Well... I guess part of the reason I feel bad is that..." He was already getting embarrassed saying it out loud. Connor hoped once all this cheesy stuff was out in the open, he could stop getting embarrassed so easily talking to Hank about how he was feeling... "Um... well, part of me thinks, 'Sorry, Andrea, that you never got this version of Hank', but..." sh*t—the light changed. Connor debated letting go of Hank's hand so he could have both hands on the wheel... but he didn't. "—well, part of me thinks, 'Sorry—no take-backs.'" Hank laughed, clutching Connor's hand tight.

"That's the spirit! That's what you should be thinking, Connor—don't feel bad for me and Andrea. We had our fun—it was just time for us to part ways, that's all." He loosened his grip, so Connor slunk his hand away to hold the wheel properly. The line of cars slowly inched forward. "Hell—she probably wouldn't take my crusty ass back even if I won the lottery and lost thirty pounds." Connor tried not to laugh. "Besides the fact that she's thinkin' of marrying that guy."

"What's 'that guy' like? What does Cole think of him?"

"Uh... I dunno, he's like an investment manager, or a real estate guy. Something like that—he's got money, so at least she'll be taken care of. Ha!" Connor could see his grin in his peripheral. "You know what Cole said to me, that smartass kid? I asked him what he thought of the guy—and he said, 'Well, we'll get to live in his big house if she marries him!'"

"Oh." Connor wasn't sure what to make of that.

"I said, 'Looks like you got your priorities straight!'" Hank seemed to think it was pretty funny. "Ha... I guess other than that, he didn't have much to say—he said the guy's 'nice', he likes him fine. It's not like he thinks of him as a step-dad—just the new guy his Mom's with."

"I see." For some reason hearing that made Connor feel self-conscious.

Hank rubbed his shoulder. "Hey... I might be gettin' ahead of myself a little here, but..." He gave Connor's shoulder a squeeze. "Long as you don't try to insist he treat you like his step-dad or anything... I think you'll do fine, Connor." That was quite a statement... About as serious as Hank taking his wedding ring off.

Connor made sure his grip on the steering wheel with his dominant hand was steady, and he touched Hank's hand on his shoulder. A little more meekly than he would have liked, he realized he was probably more used to driving with just his left hand, to mess around with his GPS and whatnot with his right—but Hank gently clutched his fingers, his thumb smoothing over the back of his knuckles—so the desired outcome was achieved.

"Ah, geez—I hope no one's watching us." Connor laughed a bit.

"Ah, who cares? f*ck 'em."

"—it's not that I'm embarrassed, I guess I just prefer the intimacy of privacy."

"I hear ya." Hank gave his hand a little squeeze, then let him go. "But your cheeks are a little red there, Connor."

"Really?"

"Really. I didn't want to say anything, but uh—it happens a lot." Hank had a teasing tone. "I'm sure you can guess what I'm gonna say next." Damn you Hank... making Connor think, "It's pretty cute" was somehow more embarrassing than if Hank had actually just said it. Connor must have gone a little more red, or something else, because Hank just snickered. co*cky... Connor would get him back.

OOO

Even her office was relaxing. The carpets were deep green, and there was lots of wood paneling on the walls—the lighting was bright but soft, not like that awful fluorescent light. Honestly, Connor was surprised they weren't piping in gentle rainforest sounds, or had an oil diffuser going.

The secretary smiled at them gently. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Connor smiled. "I'm Detective Sullivan, is Ms. Yvonne in?"

"Oh—she should be!" She picked up her phone, pressing one button.

"Oh—just say it's Connor."

She nodded wordlessly, still smiling. "... Ms. Yvonne? I have Connor here to see you, would you like me to send him in? ... All right." She gently set the receiver down. "Go on back."

"Thank you." Connor gave her a slight bow, smoothing down his tie. He looked at Hank, who followed him down the hallway around the front desk.

He saw Hank wave out of the corner of his eye. "Thanks, young lady." Connor noticed he called most women they encountered professionally "young lady", regardless of how old they actually were. He hoped they found it charming, or at least polite, and not condescending...

Connor knew just which door was hers—all the way at the end of the hall. She had made quite a name for herself, but still had this relatively humble law office close to downtown. Connor was glad he came here—he was also really curious how she got in touch with Daniel.

"Hey—anything else I should know about Ms. Yvonne?" Hank had his quiet indoor voice.

"Hm, not really. If she introduces herself to you by her first name, it's okay to call her that."

"I see."

Connor knocked lightly first, then pushed open her frosted glass door. "Lucy?" He smiled when he saw her standing at her desk. "Hello, it's been a while."

"Connor." Her gentle voice was still the same. She came walking evenly around the desk, almost gliding, her hands folded in front of her. "Thank you for visiting me." He shook her slender hand—her handshake was confident, but not too firm. She looked from his face to Hank's.

"Oh—this is Hank, my partner."

He leaned in with a firm hand. "Hank. Good to meet you." She took Hank's hand, then closed her other hand around his.

"Your partner." Her gentle smile widened, as she looked right up into Hank's face. "How lovely. I'm Lucy, I've known Connor for many years." She turned her smile to Connor. "I'm very happy for you, Connor."

"Oh, um..." Whoops. He and Hank shared a glance, and even his eyebrows were up. "I just meant my work partner... but you got me, Lucy." Connor laughed a bit awkwardly. "It was that obvious, huh?"

"Oh, dear." Her laughter was so light, it lilted like a tiny waterfall in a creek. "I apologize." She still had Hank's hands in her gentle hold.

"No... it's all right." He looked up at Hank, who was giving him a warm "sh*t happens" look. Connor's hand went to his back, and Lucy gently let Hank's hands go. "It's a relief, actually—thank you for such a heartfelt congratulations."

"Of course." She spoke slowly, her voice really was relaxing. "Please, gentlemen—have a seat." She gestured broadly to the chairs in front of her desk, her arm sweeping slowly like the guy from the yoga video.

"Thank you, Lucy." He gave the back of Hank's shoulder a gentle squeeze out of sight, then sat down in the farther chair. She glided back behind her desk, bending down to adjust her chair. Connor saw it shoot up a bit.

"There we are." He almost chuckled—she sat down again, but was actually at their eye level. She was rather petite. She looked the same as she always had—close-shaven head, no makeup. She didn't look a day older, either... She was a good example of what living a stress-free life could do for you. Well, she probably found herself in many stressful situations—she just didn't let it bother her. "I assume you've heard that I've taken over the defense for young Daniel Lambert's case?"

"Yes—I was quite pleasantly surprised. I was so worried that he was just going to give up and plead 'guilty'..."

She nodded. "That's what I was told, as well. I'm glad I was able to speak to him in time."

"... Lucy, if you don't mind me asking, how did you hear about his case?"

She smiled gently. "Well, someone who had Daniel's best interest at heart contacted me."

"I see." Connor couldn't help but speculate, he was so curious—who could it have been? Surely it wasn't Amanda—as much as she not-so-secretly loved facing off against Lucy in court, even she wouldn't use Daniel as a means to an end for personal reasons like that... Hank didn't know who Lucy was, and it wasn't like Connor had told Markus anything about the case... Daniel's name hadn't even been released publicly yet—or he supposed it just had that morning, since he was now in judicial custody. Who could it have been?? He supposed it could have been Jason desperately searching 'good pro bono lawyers'—but would that have been enough, could he even have gotten in touch with her?

Hank leaned forward, his arms resting casually on his legs. "I'll tell ya, Lucy—Connor had nothing but good things to say about you. It seems like the kid's in good hands." Connor was relieved that Hank was still being himself talking to her—she could sniff out disingenuous people and brown-nosers before they even walked through the door, not like he thought Hank would actually do that—but he was glad he could relax around her.

"I certainly am glad that he accepted my counsel." She turned to Connor, with the same wide smile as when she clocked him and Hank earlier. "May I tell you something, Connor?" She clasped her hands together gently. "I expressed up front that my services would be free of charge, that's why he agreed to meet with me... When I spoke to Daniel in person, I let him know I was an old friend of yours..." Her eyes crinkled just a bit. "That's when he accepted my help, no questions asked."

Connor was shocked. "Really?"

Her smile didn't waver. "Really."

"Oh..." Connor found himself a bit overwhelmed, it was almost like his brain locked up. "I can't believe that..." He felt Hank's warm hand on his back, it surprised him a bit.

"Hey—looks like you got through to the kid after all." Really? But...

Connor felt his eyes getting watery. "Oh—" He quickly swiped the back of his thumbs across his eyes. "—I'm sorry, how embarrassing—"

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about." Her voice was as gentle as always. He saw movement in his blurry vision—a tissue box appeared under his face. He pulled one out and wiped his eyes—Hank was holding the box. "It's just the three of us here."

He bent over his legs a bit, still feeling self-conscious despite what she said. He couldn't believe it... He could feel it while Daniel was talking, staring at himself in the mirror—he was pleading, "Look at me, help me..." Connor had felt so powerless, like it was impossible for anyone to actually get through to him—he couldn't believe Daniel actually let someone help him... No, surely it wasn't just Connor, it was also Jason, and Professor Abelman, and Emma who got through to him...

Connor sniffed, desperately wiping his eyes with one end of the tissue, switching to the clean side to wipe his nose. Neither of them said anything. Hank's hand was warm and patient on his back. Connor felt so relieved... he almost still couldn't believe it.

XXX

XXX

Hank was reaching across the seat to rub Connor's back. His eyes were still a little red. "You doin' okay now, ready to go get some lunch?"

"Hah. I'm not sure." He pulled down his driver visor, looking at himself in the little mirror. "Hrm... it still looks like I've been crying."

Hank chuckled lightly. "Ah, so what. Just say it's allergies."

Connor laughed, his voice still sounding a little stuffy. "In the middle of winter?" He was obviously still feeling a bit embarrassed, but... Hank couldn't quite place his finger on it, but Connor was still smiling. He looked at peace, like all the worry he had just melted away. No wonder he went crazy for that lady—even Hank felt like he saw a Goddess walking, just a little.

Hank gave his shoulder a little harder rub—Connor seemed to like that, from what he could tell before. "Well, I won't embarrass ya any more by talking about it. I just wanna say—I'm real proud of you. As your boss, and as a person."

Connor made a short laugh. "I keep forgetting—you are my boss, aren't you?" He snickered to himself, wiping the corner of his eye. "How inappropriate."

"Yep. It's a real conflict of interest. Good thing you're also my partner." It felt like Connor had a wicked knot in his back—maybe they could sign up for one of those "couple's massage" deals—Hank would probably crush Connor to death if he tried walking on his back. Oh right—he did owe him a back rub, maybe Connor could cash in that coupon sooner rather than later...

"Hmm." Connor let himself rest on the steering wheel, his forehead pressed to his wrists.

"Don't accidentally honk the horn."

"I won't." Hank tried to work out that knot as best he could from this angle, and with his left hand.

"You wanna sit somewhere and I'll work this out for you? Or we could just sit in the backseat with the heat on."

"Hmm." Connor turned his head to the side, facing away. "I'll be fine—just another minute is fine." His voice was hard to hear. "Can I take a rain check?"

"Sure." Hank shifted sideways in the seat, as much as his two-hundred-pound ass could in this tiny car. He kneaded Connor's shoulders a little hard with both hands.

"Hmmnmmnn." Damn—Hank had never heard him make that little noise before. Hoo boy... this could get a little dangerous—he'd need to take that rain check until they were at one or the other's house. Not that Hank was expecting anything to happen, or anything, just... How did Connor put it earlier, "the intimacy of privacy"?

Hank decided to do the responsible thing and kill the mood. "What do you wanna eat?"

"Mm... there's this place I like that makes really good salads."

"Salads? Come on, live a little—don't you want a big juicy veggie burger, or something?" It was really hard for Hank to strain his shoulders from all the way over here, so he let go and kept rubbing Connor's closest shoulder with his left hand.

"No... they make really big salads with lots of goodies, and cheese and stuff on top..." Connor sat up just a smidge to turn his head, giving Hank a pretty blissed-out looking mellow gaze. That's probably what he looked like after a drink or two—if Hank would ever get to see it, that is. "You'd probably even like one... they have sandwiches and other stuff there, too. And burgers, I think."

"All right—sounds good to me."

Connor looked like he was floating on a cloud, and he closed his eyes. "They have salads with bacon bits..."

"Hey, say no more—I'm sold, baby." He saw Connor's smile change just a bit—the shy smile. "Hey, uh, are you gonna be good to drive?"

His eyes opened. "Yeah. I'll be good." He looked unfocused at nothing. "Just another minute." Hank kept working that knot—he hoped Connor would say something if he was hurting him, so he must not be. Actually—he looked like if he was a cat, he'd be purring like crazy. Man—he hoped Connor's poor little kitty would warm up to him—he felt a little bad for her, being so scared even in her own home. She practically ran from her little tower like a bat out of hell. "I wonder who it was?"

Hank barely heard him. "What was that?"

Connor was looking past him out the window. "I wonder who it was who called Lucy?"

"Hm, who knows?" Hank felt like he worked the knot enough, so he started smoothing over the muscle with his palm like a cool-down. Hank knew exactly who it was—he still had no idea how he knew her in the first place—but he could count the number of times he'd seen that guy cry on one hand. sh*t, he didn't even cry at his own wedding. But he had a reputation to uphold as the big boss, so Hank would just keep that little secret to himself.

XXX

Hank was actively resisting the temptation to pick around all the lettuce to just spear the goodies with his fork. But Connor was watching him, so... down the hatch.

... the dressing was tangy, and made the leaves actually taste like something, not just grass clippings. "—holy sh*t, I didn't know salads could actually taste good." The little cherry tomatoes were both sour and sweet, with the bacon bits it tasted like a BLT.

Connor snickered. "You've probably only had cheapy 'Caesar salad' at pizza places, that's just plain iceberg lettuce with dry shredded cheese and croutons."

"sh*t—you're probably right." He realized he was talking with his mouth full, so he at least covered his hand in front of his face. "I guess Andrea was big into salads—but she never put any dressing on 'em. Or she used that nasty balsamic vinegar stuff."

"I see—well, it's not good to drown a salad in dressing, but if it gets you to eat it, a little is fine."

"—this dressing is f*ckin' good." Hank could probably literally eat lawn clippings if this stuff was poured on top.

Connor was peering at the menu they still had on the table between them. "It's house-made... It looks like it's a cream-based dressing with lemon aioli, and dill..."

"Aw, man—that means I can't buy it at home?"

Connor smiled. "You could probably learn to make it, or buy something close." Hank was glad this gamble paid off—he forgot those f*cking reading glasses at the station, so he couldn't actually read the menu too well. He didn't want to ask Connor to read it for him, so he just said he'd get "the bacon one". Guess Hank would have to consider keeping the stupid peepers around his neck on a string, like an old lady... heugh. Gettin' old sucked.

Hank speared another big forkful of salad. This lemon-whatever dressing was pretty f*ckin' bomb, though. "Oh—hey, that reminds me. There's this German place I like, they have really good bratwurst and fondue, and all that type of stuff—but they have a really good salmon on pasta, it's all lemon-y like this." Hank smiled at him. "You wanna go to dinner with me on Monday night?"

Connor's fork raised just a bit, almost like he shrunk into his shoulders. "Oh, like a date?"

Hank turned on the charm. "Yeah."

Connor got all shy, looking down to the side. "Okay. Sounds good." Man—Hank hoped this "honeymoon" phase would last a while—he liked watching Connor get all shy like that, it was really f*ckin' cute. Especially if he could manage to do it at work—though Connor gave him a little sh*t for pushin' it. But hey—they still had to take that picture soon, Hank wanted Connor to look as cute and happy as possible. Especially if that's the picture he was gonna show his friends... Hoo, Hank was trying not to let the pressure get to him. He had this—he knew what he was doing.

"Hey, so—make sure to tell me if I got anything in my teeth before we take that picture." Hank took another forkful, all casual. Connor rubbed his neck, looking out the window, his cute shy smile getting even cuter.

XXX

Connor peered around the wood pillar. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yeah—nobody's inside, who's gonna say it's not okay?" Hank took a wide step over the planter box. "Like I said—they're not gonna even bother to do repairs until the snowy season's over. No one's around—trust me." He turned around and offered Connor his hand.

He still looked a little hesitant. "All right." He took Hank's hand, stretching his long leg leg over the dirt planter with withered-up flowers. Those didn't survive the winter, unfortunately—but the big-ass jasmine plant taking over the whole patio was still going strong. Hank thought of a few places that had a nice background to take their picture—but this place was by far the most private, which was probably more important to Connor. This restaurant's pipes had burst during the ice storm, or something—so it was true they were closed for the season so they could make repairs. But the back patio was left as it was—big-ass jasmine plant and all. The only difference was those little decorative lights were off—but they had enough natural light, and Connor could use the flash on his phone, if need be. Truth be told, there might be somebody who came by to take care of the plant, just to make sure it didn't die out—but what were the odds they'd come by right now?

"Hah." Hank sat down on one of the wooden table benches. "Check it out." He pointed to the little "shelf" in the wall of the building where folks could set their beers. "You can set your phone on there and zoom in." He peeled off his jacket. "None of that awkward arm stuff."

"Wow. You really did think of everything."

"Of course." Hank pulled him in, rubbing his other arm. Connor leaned into him a bit, resting his head on his shoulder.

"I just hope I can look natural... sometimes I can be a little awkward in photos."

"Ah, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Connor sat up after a second. "Okay—I think I'll set it to take several shots, on a timer."

"Sounds good."

Connor took off his jacket too, setting it with Hank's on the next table over. He went over to set up his phone on the shelf—he had one of those phone cases with a little "kickstand" that came out the back of it, apparently. Hank never would have even thought of that. "Hmm..." He awkwardly peered over and around the shelf, looking between the phone screen and Hank.

"You can just lean it against the wall facing us, right?"

"Well, the back camera is better—that's a stronger lens, the front-facing camera is a wide-angle, that's why people look so different taking selfies."

"Uh-huh..."

Connor rolled his eyes a bit. "Well, we'll be far enough away, so if this doesn't work, I can flip it around." He messed with his phone some more. "Okay—I have it on a ten-second timer so I can sit back down. Then it'll take a few shots in a row."

"You don't want to be able to see yourself?"

"No—that would probably make me more self-conscious, if anything."

"All right, baby—whatever works for you." Thankfully this place was at the end of a little spot overlooking the river, which wasn't anything to write home about if you weren't also eating here—so no one was walking all the way down here. "We can move around if you want the river or the city skyline in the background, too."

"Maybe... We'll see, I kind of like the jasmine plant, to be honest." Connor traced the slope of it with his hand from where he was standing. "I like the way it goes off at an angle." He rolled his eyes at himself. "I may not be very artistically-inclined, but I like taking photos while I'm out hiking—I like to think I can recognize an interesting shot composition, at least."

"Hey, I believe you."

"Should I turn the flash on?"

"I'd say leave it off first—if it's too dim, we can switch it." Hank scooted over a bit so he was more in what he perceived to be the center. "How's that?"

"Mm—scoot a bit more to the left." Hank did as he was told. "Perfect. I'll slide in on your left."

"All right, got it." It was a little cold—but Hank wanted his wild shirt to be on full display, since Connor seemed to like it so much. Connor's shirt was pretty eye-catching, too—it reminded Hank of those photos of beaches where they had little multi-colored stones instead of sand. Well—actually, it reminded Hank of a stained glass window in church, but Connor might not like that comparison. It was something, though—he looked really good in it, of course.

Connor stretched away from the phone, pressing the screen with his finger before scampering away. "Okay." He slid into place on the bench next to Hank, smoothing his hair back, scooting in a bit more, messing with his shirt. This was it—Hank only had this first shot to get a genuine reaction out of him. The flash wasn't blinking or making any noise, so he'd just have to guess.

Hank smoothed his loose hair behind his ear, his hand sliding across to rest gently behind Connor's neck—he leaned in and kissed his cheek that was facing away from the camera. "—ah!" Connor squirmed a bit, laughing—actually it was more of a giggle. One of his hands clutched at Hank's elbow, who knows what the other was doing... Hank kissed by his ear, which made him squirm even more. "—ah, wait!" Connor practically yelped—it was pretty funny, but since he said "wait", Hank decided to stop. He let go and pulled back, and Connor's cheeks were pretty flushed. He touched his hand over his ear. "I wasn't expecting you to do that!" Hank grinned. He wasn't actually upset, thankfully—at least it didn't seem so.

Hank jerked his eyes sideways at the phone. "Let's go look." He moved to stand up, but Connor shot up before he could.

"Wait! You stay right there—I'll get it." He practically scrambled out of the bench. He picked up his phone, his finger swiping across the screen. He bit his lips—was that good or bad? The suspense was killing Hank... Connor's eyes flicked between his phone screen and Hank's face.

"Well, can I see? You're killin' me over here!"

Connor was laughing lightly, padding back over to the bench. "Well... it's a little embarrassing for me, but..." He held his phone to his chest as he sat down. "... I think this is the most honest." He leaned in, finally showing Hank the damn picture... It was exactly how Hank hoped it'd turn out. Connor looked like he was laughing, genuinely—his face was down and to the side, you couldn't see his eyes too well, but you could see his smile really well. He flicked to the next picture—in the midst of all that, Connor managed to look up at the lens—his hand was loosely clutching Hank's elbow, but he somehow looked relaxed—maybe Hank was giving himself a bit too much credit here, but he swore Connor's crescent-shaped eyes looking at the camera were twinkling, just a little. You couldn't really see Hank's face at all, just his beard and ear—but he didn't give a sh*t about that. It was perfect—in his mind, anyway. It's just what he wanted.

He looked down at Connor's face, which was really close since they were huddled around the phone. "I think it's perfect, babe." He wrapped his arm around him, rubbing up and down his arm which was probably cold. "We can take a few more for fun, since we're out here—if you want my face in 'em."

Connor rested his head on Hank's shoulder. "I'd like that..." He swiped back to the one where he was looking at the camera. "... But I think if I show this one to my friends, they'll understand." His voice was so quiet, Hank barely heard him. "Oh, man..." He laughed a bit awkwardly. "I just hope they won't be mad that I let things get this serious without telling them about you at all..."

"Whoops." Hank chuckled. "Ah, well—I'm sure they'll forgive you." He gave Connor's arm a little squeeze. "They're in your corner, right?"

Connor nuzzled into him a bit. "Yeah." Hmm... "serious", huh? Hank could only speculate what that meant to Connor... Hank sure as sh*t knew what it meant to him. Damn—Connor better not get nervous and blow it in front of Cole tomorrow, that's all he had to say.

Hank rubbed some warmth back into Connor's arm, talking low into his hair. "You wanna put your jacket back on?"

He swore he saw Connor shiver—maybe not so much from the cold. "—actually yes, thank you." He moved to stand up.

"I got it, baby." Hank stretched off the bench to snag their jackets off the opposite table. "I don't mind holding the camera out, either—if you just wanna take a few more without all the back-and-forth."

"Oh—thank you, we can just do that." Hank opened up Connor's jacket, holding it behind him so he could put his arms through. "Oh—thanks, honey." He bit his lips. Ope—he said it. That must be the one Connor landed on. sh*t—no wonder it felt so stilted to Hank, only Connor could get away with a cheesy one like that. And hey—it probably rolled off the tongue better for him, since it was another H-sound.

Hank grinned. "My pleasure, baby." sh*t, what was Hank gettin' all bent out of shape for? Connor wouldn't blow it—he kept goin' on about how he was so awkward around kids, but little Emma whispered that secret to him that blew the whole case wide open. And Cole was a sharp kid. Even if Connor was a little awkward, there's no way he'd just outright dislike the guy. Kids had a good sense about people's core—or "vibes", whatever you want to call it. Actually... that was the one thing Hank was worried about—Cole was a sharp kid. Kids these days were exposed to a lot more than Hank was growing up—if he didn't "clock" Connor outright just 'cause he was so—Connor, he'd probably be able to tell just by seeing the googly-eyed look his Dad was giving the guy. Hoo boy... Hank would give it the old college try, but he'd probably be the one to blow it right away. He just lo—uh, really liked the guy too damn much. sh*t—damnit. Haah... Cool witchy Goddess help him, he was out in the deep end, now. sh*t—this was gonna be a long weekend.

XXX

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It hurt me a bit to write our sweet boy as so out-of-touch, and not in the funny way—but I guess "The Android sent by CyberLife" was like that, in the beginning—doing what he was "programmed" to do >< Connor still has some things to unpack.

So I always planned for this story to get political—spoilers but not really, Markus is going to end up leading a big-ass protest. I feel like anyone who would have been turned off by that already dipped out at Connor's internal monologue against the meat industry lol, but just a fair warning.

On a lighter note, tee hee~ I lo—I mean, really like the ending to this chapter ༼♥ل͜♥༽

Thanks for reading, friends—see ya next time~<3