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Most people seem to worship government, bow at the pristine combat boots of Detroit police officers who haven’t dealt with anything worse than security and already dead bodies. When those boots finally felt the ground, getting scuffed as they circled in on the peaceful Android protests, thirium covered the streets. It’s invisible to the naked eye. The destruction. The lives manufactured and swiftly taken away before thoughts could be expanded upon. Androids were killed that day. Though, most people are having trouble using such a harsh word. Public opinion is high. People like Markus, the peaceful slogans. For once the government can’t completely ignore the way people feel. They fall back and call for all citizens of Detroit to evacuate the city. People doing what people do, they listen. They run away from the scary androids. Whether they agree with their peaceful stance or are genuinely fearful of their once obedient robots now turned sentient. They all run.
Except Hank.
Detroit's been abandoned for about four hours now. Low alarms hum throughout the streets of Hank’s neighborhood, echos from the city telling him to evacuate. He simply adjusts the thick collar of his coat, waiting patiently for Connor. He’s standing outside of Chicken Feed exactly where he told him he would be. He had seen him on the news leading the hordes of Androids he woke up from the Cyberlife tower. That calmed the nerves he had that Connor could’ve been shot, destroyed, harmed in any possible way. Now it’s just about waiting. And he’s freezing his ass off. He fumbles around in his pocket before taking a loose blue pill resting inside. Blowing warm breath into his hands, he rubs them together, blue eyes flickering up from the crunching sounds of snow he hears in the distance.
Connor’s posture is perfect as always as he approaches Hank, fidgeting with his tie before standing in front of him. Hank gives the android a warm smile, one that's quickly reciprocated. Hank leans in to wrap his arms around Connor, hand buried in the back of his synthetic silky brown hair, firmly holding the strands as he hugs him tightly. Connor feels Hanks chill, activating his external warmers to heat up the older man.
“You are dangerously cold, lieutenant,” Connor speaks against Hank's shoulder, his mechanical arms comfortably tight around the human. He gets on his tiptoes to meet the older man's height.
Hank pulls away slowly but keeps their closeness, fingers still tangled in his hair. He huffs out a laugh, ”It’s not that bad.”
Connor nods, understanding how he could grow used to the cold. His deep brown eyes flicker across Hank’s face, then at the snowy scene surrounding them. He blinks once and processes everything in an instant. Chicken Feed is closed, no humans for miles, no androids either. It’s just the two of them for miles. His eyes meet Hanks. He’s already staring.
“Have you noticed the lack of human presence? Detroit has been completely evacuated,” Connor asks, head tilting slightly as they naturally separate. His hands rest lightly on Hank's sides, feet flat on the floor.
“Wow, android obvious over here,” Hank chuckles, ruffling Connor's hair before pulling away, tucking his hands into his pockets to try and fight the chill. He quickly realizes that he felt warmer while holding the younger man, shifting closer to him before giving a quick pat to his forearms. “Let’s go, kid. I’ll give you a… human perspective tour of my shitty neighborhood.”
Hank’s hand finds its way to Connor's back. He doesn’t comment on it but the warmth he emanates helps his fingers from going numb. The android consciously syncs up his steps with the older man, keeping his relaxed pace. If he had a heartbeat they would be synchronized. Their shoes crunch along the unplowed sidewalks, through snowy grass when necessary, in the middle of the previously iced street where no cars remain. Connor looks at Detroit through a new lens. No direct objective. Just a silent appreciation that he is where he is, walking and simulating breathing instead of dead and scrapped for parts.
“This place sells the shittest burgers I’ve ever eaten and it costs my entire wallet,” Hank declares, pointing at a shop nearby with an obnoxious sign in the shape of a burger. Most of the shops have their lights off but when peering inside they can make out metal stools and a chalkboard wall with strange, quirky menu items.
“Well, lieutenant, Chicken Feed is years past its sanitation regulations. If you continue eating there, you can become dangerously sick,” Connor replies, gaze shifting from the window to Hank. His voice is robotic as ever, almost awkward like he knows everything he says has the potential to annoy the older man. Changing his speech could make him more likeable… though he’s never made any attempts.
“Been eating there for years and nothing's happened yet. It’s good, cheap, human made food,” Hank defends himself, walking past the burger joint. Connor follows obediently. There's a furrow to the older man's brow as he contemplates what he just said. ‘Human made food.’ He wonders if that would be considered offensive now, if android's perfection will be a more delicate subject as there's so little of them left. He’s got less issues with androids now, that's for sure. He sees them as conscious. They still aren’t… human. Conscious but not the same way he is. He had to work for his knowledge, or lack of. He doesn’t notice how quiet he’s been until he hears Connor’s voice,
“What are you thinking about?”
That voice of his conveys curiosity so sincerely, hands behind his back as he looks over at Hank. He’s a super computer with all the knowledge any web browser has but he could never figure out what's going on inside Hank’s brain.
“Nothing important,” Hank swats his hand dismissively, continuing with the tour. “This over here is a shitty park, never cleaned right despite all the tin cans hired to keep it safe,” He points then directs their walk towards it. The snows coated the brick paths in a thin layer, the pond frozen over. “You’re not a ‘tin can’, y’know? Shit, don’t listen to me.”
Connor’s LED flashes a light yellow as he processes that statement. He’s an android. Hank doesn’t hate him. Other androids are still tin cans to him but he is not. He is different. Humans interest Connor. The way they operate, how they hate everyone but themselves and are governed by people worse than them individually. And even if they know they’re bad they continue to listen. And they continue to say things that could harm someone else because it doesn’t affect themselves. He can relate to those things, he himself was built to do nothing but listen to order. But he’s free now. Free to his own decisions.
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Hank. We did not ask to be created,” Connor replies, brown eyes focused on the floor beneath him as he walks. He tracks the shoeprints he makes, the ones Hank makes.
“Neither did I, kid. Guess we got that in common,” Hank replies with a small smile, shaking his head side to side as he remembers how ridiculous all of this is. He finds a nearby bench, swiping away the snow covering the seat before sitting down. His bones ache as he lowers himself, a look of cringe on his face as he feels the wetness of the remaining snow sink into his jeans. Connor joins him, their thighs touching.
Hank sits like the world owes him all the room, legs spread wide and as comfortable as possible. Connor always tries to take up as little room as possible. He sits with his knees together, posture immaculate, hands resting lightly against his thighs. The older man's blue eyes flicker over at the android, trailing that ridiculous posture and how his lashes flutter as he takes in the world around them. Hank tries not to think about how Connor makes him feel. It’s an odd feeling, one he never thought he would feel again. A combination of two distinct types of love... both of which he’s lacking these days. He feels it all again when he looks at Connor, especially when he’s so pretty against the snowy background of this shitty park.
“When do you think everyone will come back? What do you think will happen?” Connor asks, focused on the frozen lake and the flimsy fence that borders it. Usually he knows everything, he can infer from evidence and reconstruct entire crime scenes in under a second. This is different. All of this is unpredictable.
“They’ll be back soon, at max a day, no way people are just gonna leave their lives behind because of a couple androids,’ Hank answers with certainty, he’s got previous instances to back that up. Humans are territorial, selfish creatures. It won’t be long until they're back. “And about the deviants… no clue. They’ll need homes, they’ll have to find jobs to hire them, identification…” He trails off, breath visible in the cold as he tilts his head back. Really, he has no idea how it’ll all turn out. There's hundreds of androids with the exact same face that Connor freed from Cyberlife. How will they integrate into society? Connors a different story. He’s unique, smart. He’s his partner.
“You’ll be safe, though. You got me.”
Connor has never seen a proper summer but he’s sure it could never match up to the beauty of winter. The snow falls slowly but seemingly constant, resting on his hands and warming immediately into water. Hank's words are easily processed, categorized, tuned to this memory of a snowy scene with nobody but them for miles. He hasn’t lived very long, not enough to truly know, but this might be the best day he’s ever lived. He fumbles with something in his pocket, processing through every possible reply, what would be appropriate to say, how to say what it is he wants without coming off as too strong. He knows there is no ‘too strong’ for Hank but he also knows he doesn’t want to lose him.
“Thank you, Hank,” Connor replies with a small smile, big brown eyes focused up at the older man. He slides his hand over to gently rest atop Hank’s, warming up his cold fingers. They intertwine slowly, robotic grey slipping past his synthetic skin as their palms press together.
-
With their fingers still laced, the two detectives wander around the park. The trees are stripped of their leaves, snow piling up more and more as the absence of Detroit continues. Hank hates how real Connor feels. Really, there isn’t much difference. He’s firm, sure. But squishy enough. Certainly warm.
“You really like this park, huh?” Hank teases lightly, peering over the bridge fence at the frozen lake below.
“I guess I do,” Connor replies with a small smile, his AI processing many positive emotions. The pretty view, Hank’s presence, freedom of his objective.
“It’s nicer in the summer. Smells worse, though,” Hank shrugs, resting his elbow on the banister.
“An… interesting trade off,” Connor mumbles, leaning his side against Hanks. He’s like a walking heater. “Do you like summer, Hank?”
“Shit, if I liked summer I wouldn’t have moved here,” Hank chuckles, nudging the androids shoulder. “It’s alright. Maybe you’ll like it.”
Connor processes that, assuming he would enjoy the warmer months. Less chance of freezing his processors but a higher chance of overheating and potentially causing a fire. Though both can only happen in extreme situations he always counts for every variable. He runs through data catalogs of summer, of what happens during those months, how people are happier. He wonders if it could make Hank happier. Without an objective Connor is left to his own devices, choosing what it is he wants and doesn’t want to do. It’s a privilege to make his own decisions. Hank is all he’s been thinking about. While breaking all those androids out at cyberlife, while listening to Markus’s speech, while making the trip all the way out here to come and see him. All he seems to think about these days are Hank.
“There are no cameras in the area,” Connor points out, squeezing Hank’s hand a bit tighter.
“Huh. That's interesting,” Hank replies casually. He can tell the way Connor’s looking at him. He’s been looking at him like that since the Cyberlife tower, since he made the right decision on who’s who.
Thoughts of the android have been filling his mind for the past week. Thoughts of more. It was weird once he finally realized it but he’s past that line now. Connor might not have love programmed into him which is exactly why Hank can tell the android feels it too. He’s too obvious about it. No filter in what it is he wants. They both know what they want, why they met up here.
Hank just wasn’t expecting it to be in public.
-
Connor's legs wrap tightly around Hank's middle, lips crashing against the older man as he carries him across the park. He tracks his feet back to the bench they were sitting on, placing the android down on the wood. Hank looks around cautiously.
“There is nobody,” Connor tries to reassure, hands moving to the waistband of his pants beneath the thickness of his coat.
“Yeah? Wish I had a drink,” Hank grumbles, scanning the area again before moving his hand down to tangle in Connor’s hair. His calloused fingers feel the synthetic smoothness, tightening his grip in it slightly.
“You shouldn’t drink as heavily as you do, lieutenant,” Connor scolds, earning a scoff from the man above him. He digs into his suit pocket for the small bottle of lube he brought, uncapping it with his thumb. He tilts his head back and opens his mouth, pouring the lube onto his tongue as his big brown eyes gaze up at Hank.
“Shit… alright…” Hank agrees, hypnotized by the sight of the android prepping himself.
Connor presses his cheek close against Hank’s groin, attempting to warm the area before gently pulling it down to reveal his cock. Hank hisses from the chill, length hardened from the pill he took earlier. The android quickly takes it into his mouth, heating him up with his internal warmers. His tongue tastes his DNA, popups in his brain giving him exact components, telling him constantly what it is he’s tasting. Precum, skin, warmth. With his mouth properly lubricated his tongue swirls circles around the length of his cock, no gag reflex taking him all the way to the base.
“Fuck,” Hank groans lowly, lost in himself and the android below him.
Connor pulls off his cock with a quiet pop, big brown eyes focused up on the older man, “I recognize I am going too fast. I apologize, lieutenant,” he says truthfully, mouth blocked up from all the lube and jarbling his syllables.
“Did I tell you to stop?” Hank asks in an annoyed grumble, watching the small frown form on the androids face.
“No, sir,” Connor lets his eyes close as he takes his length into his mouth again, bopping his head up and down with the gentle guidance of Hank’s firm grip. The tip of his cock meets the metal back of his throat as his nose buries in the grey hair of his pubic bone. His hands grip onto Hank’s thighs, holding up the fabric of his pants to protect the older man from the cold while also giving him a sense of stability. Something to focus on while popups flood into his system, distracting him from doing a good job. Connor's eyes open up again, big and pleading for praise. He was built to serve. Every ounce of praise Hank has ever given him felt better than every step he got closer to defeating the deviants. To complete his actual mission. But that's over now and all he’s got left to cling onto are Hank’s thighs and the groans coursing through him. Sputters of cum shoot out onto his tongue, LED flashing yellow as his brain categorizes it. The smell, the taste, who it belongs to, what it's meant for. Connor pulls away slowly, turning his head away to spit out the mix of lube and cum filling his mouth. His hands slide down his thighs to try and tug his pants back up, confusion flickering across his face as Hank stops him.
“No, c’mon. C’mere,” Hank guides Connor off the bench, taking his place and sitting down on it. He lets out a huff as he rests his back against the wood, “Sit.”
Connor obeys, shifting to straddle Hank’s hips. The heat of his clothed groin humps against Hank’s exposed cock. His brown eyes scan the area again for peace of mind, seeing nobody and nothing but more layers of snow forming across the calm park. Large hands slide onto Connor’s hips, squeezing the fabric there and the false flesh beneath. They inch up to the waistband of his suit pants, watching the androids face as he slides them lower to reveal the softness of his pale thighs and the slit between them.
“Where's the lube, baby? Hurry up, I’m freezing,” Hank asks softly, watching the way Connor lights up and immediately takes it out of his suit pocket. He hands it to Hank eagerly.
Hank uncaps the lube and pours it onto the thickness of his fingers, thoroughly coating his middle and index before sliding them between his legs. He slips them inside, feeling the simulated ridges and the warmth radiating from inside him. He slickens up the robot's insides, every inch made solely for human pleasure, pushing up the lube the best he can without stretching him out. He fumbles with the length of his cock before Connor takes over. The android pulls his pants down lower to his knees, shifting his body so his back faces the older man. He lines up with his cock before slowly sliding down onto it, head craning back to kiss at Hanks beared cheek.
“That’s it, there you go,” Hank grunts roughly, thrusting up lazily to meet Connor’s movements. His calloused hands rub circles over the plush skin of his ass, thumbs pressing into moles littered on his pale skin.
The praise pushes past the system popups Connor’s getting, the error messages telling him his pussy is an unrecognized part, that it’s not cyberlife affiliated, that it needs to be removed immediately. He continues to slam down onto the older man's cock, increasing his warmth with two taps to the side of his neck. He faces the park now, the cloudy sky bright, snow falling onto the brown strands of his hair. The androids LED flashes a bright red as he ignores his system and focuses entirely on Hank, on his pleasure and the sweet words he says.
“Doing so good, kid,” Hank encourages, hands slipping up the fabric of his white button up to his chest, touching every bit of skin he can grasp onto from this position. “Let me see you.”
“Yes, lieutenant,” Connor tilts back again, pressing his back against Hank’s front. Hank captures the android’s lips in a hasty kiss, nibbling onto his lips and swirling their tongues together. His spit travels between the two of them, tasting the lube from before and the smooth metal of his mouth. Connor continues to fuck himself on Hanks length, bottoming out as he thrusts down onto his lap, nuzzling his ass to the warmth of human skin. His thrusts get faster the more noise that escapes through Hank’s lips, their kiss getting sloppier as he focuses more on keeping up with the robot.
“I’m close, baby, keep going,” Hank groans through gritted teeth, pulling away from the kiss so his head can loll back. Flakes of snow fall on his face as his eyes squeeze shut, thrusting up roughly with his hands tight onto the android’s waist.
Connor’s LED stalls at red as Hank shoots his release deep inside his slit, filling up his entrance. He internally reboots and clears away all the popups, heat whirring inside him before he comes back to his senses. Slowly, he slips off of him, snapping Hank out of his post orgasmic bliss once the cold wind blows against his exposed skin. Hank fumbles quickly with his pants while Connor takes his time, cleaning out his hole with two fingers. He scoops out globs of cum and lube, flicking it off of him and into a pile of snow before slipping his pants back up. He buttons them properly and adjusts his tie, brown eyes gazing down at the older man relaxed on the bench.
-
“You’re excited, yeah?’ Hank asks, hand on Connor’s lower back as they get back home. He lightly pushes the kid over to the direction of the couch, turning around to lock the door behind him. It’s more by habit than precaution.
“For what, Hank?” Connor questions, slipping off his shoes before sitting down on the old, sunken brown couch. He gives Sumo a little wave though he knows the dog will not reply.
“To be free or whatever,” Hank gestures his hand wildly, taking off his coat and tossing it onto a nearby chair. He sits down on the couch next to Connor, arm moving to wrap around him. Connor nuzzles up into the human side, feeling the warmth and listening to the beat of his heart. His LED is a calm blue, content as he lets himself enjoy his freedom. He thinks about what can come of his new life, once everyone comes back and Detroit is up and running. Maybe he can continue to work with Hank. Or he can download information on proper house keeping, on how to care for a dog, and how to care for a drunken old man without pouring water on him. Or he can learn it himself without a program, without listening to the popups telling him what to do.
“Of course,” Connor replies softly, tilting his head up to look at Hank. He studies his weathered face, his kind eyes and messy hair. “As long as I’m with you.”