Archive of Our Own

Not in the way an android was normal, at any rate. No, Connor was different. For one, he missed far too many social cues for an android that was supposed to have been built for negotiation purposes. 

Wasn't that Connor's whole thing? Reading the emotions of other androids, and even of humans, and responding accordingly? 

So how is it that Connor was so... awkward, in everyday conversation? 

Before the revolution, Hank hadn't given it much thought. Connor was a machine, why should he care? But as he learned more, and as Connor grew as a person, he realized that the android never quite left behind that almost-robotic awkwardness. It was as much a part of him as his own name, that much was certain. 

Hank often found himself laying in bed, replaying his conversations with Connor both before and after the revolution, analyzing every bit that he could remember (and hoping that he remembered the details correctly).

Despite the insane processing speed of the average android, Connor often took a moment longer than other androids - Hell, even some humans - would have in order to understand what was being said to him and to respond. He had days where it was better or worse, but it was consistent enough that it stuck in Hank's mind. He often took things literally, and that could have been chocked up to being an android, but even other androids understood metaphors and hyperbole.

And then, God, there was the damn fidgeting. Most of the time, it was obvious (when he did his silly party tricks with his fucking quarter), but there were other clear - albeit less noticeable - forms of fidgeting too. When he and Hank took Sumo on walks, Connor wrapped and unwrapped the leash around his hand and wrist. In the office, he loosened and tightened his tie over and over. Even just at home, he would toss objects from hand to hand absentmindedly while doing Lord knows what inside his head.

The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place when Hank realized that Connor had fucking sensory issues. It hadn't been something he'd noticed before the revolution, but now that Connor allowed himself to feel new emotions, it was very obvious to Hank that Connor had bad textures he would avoid - and safe textures that he would seek out.

It was impossible to miss his grimace when he had to touch and taste something sticky for a case - something Hank knew never happened before the revolution. Perhaps the most obvious examples, however, would be denim and wool.

He'd stopped wearing jeans very early on in his life as a free android, maybe after the third time Hank let him borrow a pair. He seemed in a constant state of discomfort when he put them on, and he cringed slightly every time he moved. Afterward, he'd stuck to sweatpants for lounge wear. As for the wool, well, Connor hadn't even made it to the couch (where he had "slept" before Hank got his bedroom set up) before he was asking for a different fabric. Hank easily complied, though didn't miss the way Connor grabbed at his t-shirt and wiped his hands off the moment the blanket was out of his grasp.

Some textures were clear favorites; he loved cotton, and Hank often saw him fisting the fabric of his shirts and pants, or running his hands back and forth over the fiber of his blanket (the second one he had been given, and which he had asked to keep even after he got his own bed and comforter set). A close second was fur, but not the synthetic kind - he'd cringed when he had picked up a faux fur coat during a case, and quickly wiped off his hands on his suit jacket once the offending article had been passed off to someone else. However, Connor could sit and pet Sumo for hours, never tiring of running his hands through the thick, soft fur on the big lug.

And it went beyond touch; Connor couldn't stand the beeping timer of the stove or the microwave, so he set his own timers when he cooked for Hank. He absolutely despised the scraping of chairs against the floor, which hadn't taken Hank long to notice - he always lifted his own chair and moved it back when he went to sit down, instead of pulling it out like anyone else would.

But he loved when objects clacked together; namely, wood on wood. It had annoyed Hank, the sound of Connor repeatedly tapping his wooden pencil against the edge of his desktop while they worked at the office, but he'd decided not to say anything when he saw the small smile that graced Connor's face after every clack.

In all honesty, Hank could go on forever about every little thing Connor did that only made him more and more sure about his conclusion:

Connor had to be autistic.

Hank had been unsure about the concept when he first had the idea. How could an android have a disability? They didn't have brains, they ran on programming and A.I. software; but then again, how could androids have human emotions that they weren't programmed with? If that was possible, surely psychological disorders weren't too far out of the ballpark.

Everything lined up, the only issue was.. what the hell was he supposed to do with that information?

Connor was fully-functioning, it wasn't like he needed accommodations in the office or on the field to do his job. He managed just fine during his day-to-day life, and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and others.

A diagnosis wouldn't change anything for him. No, Connor didn't need help.

But others might.

If Connor could be autistic, who knows how many androids out there had disabilities that impacted them far more than Connor's did. How many of those androids struggled to get by each day, wondering why they were still dysfunctional even after they had been given freedom?

Maybe it was just Hank growing soft, but the thought of leaving this discovery untouched didn't set well in his stomach. He had the ability to help others by proving that androids were far more human than they had first shown themselves to be - it wouldn't be right to let those others (android or not) suffer when he knew he could kickstart something that would make a difference.

So, Hank decided to put on his big boy pants and confront Connor with this new information.

Whether it would help his partner or not, Hank didn't know. He also didn't know if he would even be successful in raising awareness for androids who might be struggling, or if he would even succeed in getting a diagnosis for Connor in the first place - after all, the revolution was nowhere near over. Plenty still held prejudice for androids, and while Markus and the others were making steady progress, they still had a long way to go.

Hank wanted to try anyway. If it made people believe that the androids really were no different than humans, Hank considered the fight worth it.

Maybe he was growing soft; fucking sue him.