"Hanks Sick Day" Detroit Become Human, M

[SleepingPhlox]

Oh man what am I even doing?    I'm pretty sure this fandom is just, like soooo yesterday and, well, it's a fic about Hank, okay?  I've given up trying to figure out why my brain wanted this.  And I usually like to have quite a bit of plot and this very much doesn't have any plot at all, I just needed something simple like this in my life so I wrote it so I could read it, and now I'm going to post it I guess.  Because why not?

It's the sort of thing where I might write more if inspiration grabs my brain and I have the energy.  I kinda feel like it could actually go somewhere if I let it.  Who  knows!

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The ringing of the doorbell, followed by an insistent knocking, cut into what had been an otherwise quiet morning for Hank Anderson.  Morning?  Noon?  Noon...ish?  He wasn't sure anymore.  Maybe if he pulled his blankets up over his head and pretended it wasn’t happening, it would go away.  No...apparently the doorbell would just ring longer.  And longer.   And...was it going to stop?  Shit, he better drag himself to the door and answer it, if he didn’t want to end up with another damn broken window.

He didn’t bother even attempting to make himself what passed for decent with him.  He had no idea what his hair looked like and didn’t care.  He hadn’t seen his face since he passed by the mirror on his way to take a piss a couple of hours ago.  The reflection scowling back at him had looked like shit then - not that his eyes ever looked that bright and full of life but they looked so dead he might as well be a corpse, with big tired circles underneath and a big stupid looking bright red nose sitting there in the middle of his face looking ridiculous - and he couldn’t imagine his appearance had improved since then.  All he’d been doing in the meantime was lying around, sneezing and coughing and blowing his nose.

And clothes?  Hell, he was just going to stay in his t-shirt and boxers.  He was going to be cocooning himself in his blanket anyway and honestly, he was certain he knew exactly what face would be staring at him when he opened the door and that face wasn’t really wired to care what people were wearing.  At least, Hank didn’t think so.  So he pulled his blanket tight around his shoulders and trudged down the hallway, mumbling every epithet he could think of with every single reluctant, weary step.

He opened the door without even bothering to check out the peephole because he knew, he just knew and oh look at that, wouldn’t you just know it, he was right.  His very own personal android shadow.  Guess even taking a sick day wouldn’t buy him any time from the plastic pest.  Wonderful.  He raised a corner of the blanket and coughed into it, deep and harsh and rattling.

“Hey, Connor,” he sighed wearily.  “I don’t know if you got the memo but we’re not doing any cases today.  I’m sick.”  His already gravelly voice was even deeper than usual, with a harsh sort of scratchiness that hinted at a pending loss of voice if he wasn’t careful.  And the congestion was so firmly entrenched in his sinuses that he could say goodbye to properly pronouncing any nasal consonants.

“Oh, I know,” came the somehow both flat and impassionate, yet chipper and upbeat response.  It was a particular tone of voice only Connor could manage to pull off, and it was weird.  And annoying.

“So I really don’t care-”  He had to cut himself off to cough into his blanket again.  “-if an entire bus full of people is being held hostage by fifty deviants dressed as circus clowns, it ain’t happening today.”

“Yes.  As I said, I know,” Connor replied, though he paused a moment, looking perplexed at the particular imagery Hank had just brought up, and wondered if that very specific statement was based on any current intel.  Because if it was, he hadn’t been made aware of it, and he was supposed to be up to date on any information involving deviants.  “There are no current cases requiring investigation today.”

Hank squinted at him suspiciously, as if he were expecting a trap of some sort.  “Wait, there are no cases?  So what the hell are you doing here, then?” he demanded.

“I came to see if you were all right.”

“Yeah, I’m just...hhRUSHHOOO!...*sniff*...peachy, thanks.  Anyway, I really appreciate you taking the time to come out and check on me, means the world to me and all that crap, so I gotta say, and I truly mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck off.”

He shoved the door, fully intending to shut it in the android’s annoying face, but he was immediately met with resistance.  Connor, with one hand on the door, easily pushed it right back open.  Hank had forgotten not only Connor’s persistence, but surprising strength for a guy that was built to look kinda like a weedy nerd that had never done a day’s exercise in his life.   Huh, maybe he was actually secretly ripped under that always perfectly arranged jacket and tie of his.

“I brought you some things that should help,” Connor said as he just went right ahead and stepped inside like it was no big deal.

“Hey, hey, hey!  You can’t just barge into a guy’s house like that, Connor!  It’s...it’s against the law!”  And oh saying that was a mistake, wasn’t it?  The damn androids eyes got so wide and he looked so stricken and terrified and...shit, he couldn’t do that to the poor guy.  So he hastily added “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m not gonna...turn you in or anything.  Just...remember that for the future.  Other people might not be so understanding.  Got it?”

“Got it,” Connor said with a curt nod, though Hank didn’t trust Connor’s acquiescence at all.  Out of all the androids ever built, he had to get stuck with the one that had a broken whatever the hell it was that made them do as they were told.  They stood looking at one another for what felt like far too long for Hank, who had had just about enough of staying upright, when Connor held up the bags that he’d been dangling from his left arm.

“I brought you some things that should help,” Connor repeated simply.  “Would you like to follow me to the sofa and I’ll show you what I have?”

“hhhRAHHHshoo!” was Hank’s only response at first, and then he stood there sniffling and staring at Connor, trying to work out if he trusted an android to know what a sick human needed.  Then again, whatever he had would have to be better than what he had to hand which was a whole lot of nothing.  He might as well humour Connor if he’d gone through all this trouble and everything.

“All right.  What the hell.  I got nothin’ better to do,” he shrugged, and shuffled to the couch, plopping himself unceremoniously onto it.  Well, sitting was a whole lot better than standing, he had to admit that.  He looked up at Connor and said “All right, show me what you got,” in about as friendly a voice as he could muster.  And all he got was fingertips pressed to his forehead for his trouble.  He ducked away as quickly as he could.  He might be able to stretch to sitting quietly while Connor showed him his shopping, but anything that smacked of getting taken care of could go to hell!

“Hey!  No touching, no fussing, no asking me how I’m doing, nothing like that.  Or I’m kicking you out,” Hank snapped.  “I hate that crap.”  Connor simply shrugged and set the bags on the table and began rummaging through them.  Did that mean he listened or not?

The first thing Connor placed on the coffee table was a box of tissues.  Said “extra soft” on the box and everything.  Hank did have to admit that would be useful.  It never occurred to him to keep things like that around just in case.  He’d been using a mixture of toilet paper and fast food napkins - which, granted, did get the job done but the napkins were rough and the toilet paper he bought was the cheapest he could get his hands on so it all didn’t really add up to the most comfortable experience.  He sniffled and then coughed into his blanket again, something that apparently did not escape the androids attention judging by the curious brown eyes now turned in his direction.  Another sniffle and then he wiped his nose on his blanket because why the hell not?  He was the only person that was going to affect and he officially did not give a shit.

“Since I did not know beforehand what your symptoms were,” Connor continued, seemingly unperturbed by Hank’s lack of decorum.  “I brought a variety of medicines to cover any eventuality. You’re experiencing a moderate fever and your cough seems to originate in your chest so I would recommend this and this.”  He placed two boxes onto the table in front of Hank.  Hank glared at the boxes resentfully.  “I received a comprehensive instruction on the different types of medicines from the staff in the store.  They were very helpful.  They recommended a separate one for nighttime to help you sleep.  I have it in here.  And in this bag I have an assortment of healthy foods to provide an assortment of nutrients to aid in your recovery.”

“Cool,” Hank said dismissively, pulling his legs up onto the sofa so he could at least stretch out and be comfortable.  “You can just go ahead and throw those right in the garbage.  I don’t eat that cra-...hahhhhh...hhhahhRRUUSSHhhoo!...that crap.”

Connor ignored him and continued unpacking the bag, placing everything neatly in a row on the coffee table.   Hank huffed, and scowled, and pulled his head further into his blanket like a grumpy turtle until only his eyes and top of his head were visible.  Sure, he used to be into healthy eating back in his prime, when he was younger and actually used to exercise and all that stupid crap, but that was a long, long time ago.  And he was a different person back then - a lot less of a useless piece of shit waste of space and all that.

“You are also going to need to drink some water,” Connor said.  “You can get comfortable and do whatever it is you like to do to pass the time.  I’m here now to look after everything so you can get your rest.”

Oh, Hank did not like the sound of that at all.  “What do you mean, look after everything?  There’s nothing to look after.  And I just have a cold, damn it, I’m not bedridden.  I can look after anything that comes up, and trust me, that’s not a hell of a lot.  My life outside of work is pretty boring.  I don’t need you to stick around.”  What he didn’t mention was that it was apparently The Cold From Hell Itself.  Not that he was above using a minor case of the sniffles to get a day off lying around on his ass, but this one had really knocked him for six.  Energy was nonexistent, his limbs vaguely ached, no amount of aspirin had been able to get rid of his headache and he had never been so aware of his nose before.  If he wasn’t sneezing, it was making its presence felt through persistent agonising itching no amount of rubbing could appease, or being uncomfortably full and runny.  He wasn’t sure which part was worse, but he knew one thing - all of it sucked.

“Is that so?  I suppose you’ll be fine having to get dressed and go out into the cold air when Sumo needs to go out and relieve himself?  Or make sure you have something clean to eat from-”

“There’s always something clean to eat from if you learn how to...hhhuhhRUSHHeeghh!...improvise.  Look, Connor, if you got lonely without me around it’s okay to admit it.”

It was a joke made for his own amusement, but something in the way that Connor seemed to look offended and caught in the act at the same time made Hank suspect he might actually have touched a nerve.  The suspicion deepened when Connor mumbled a petulant “Androids don’t get lonely” under his breath.  Yeah, maybe androids did get lonely a little bit, Hank thought to himself.

“Anyway,” Connor said, holding his shoulders just a little straighter than usual, and that was saying something.  Hah, yes, he had definitely touched a nerve.  He'd spent enough time around Connor to tell when something had gotten him.  Connor wasn't quite as impervious to such things as he liked to let on, it seemed.  “The place is a mess and I’m going to tidy it for you.”

“Hey, don’t you dare!” Hank said, sitting up in alarm.  “I have everything exactly the way I like it.  Don’t touch anything, do you hear me?”

“Oh, I see.  You’re keeping this old pizza box for sentimental reasons, are you?”

Hank glared at Connor.  Connor has a very clear Look trained on him.  It was a little smug, and a little challenging, and absolutely 100% dripping with a full awareness of what he was doing. That plastic bastard was being a little shit on purpose!  The squeaky clean goody two shoes android was actually getting an attitude with him!

Good for him.  It was about damn time!

Hank threw his head back with a hearty guffaw - which proved to be a big mistake as he didn’t get very far in the laughing before his chest decided  he had no business doing that and he started a bout of coughing that went on longer than he was comfortable with.  When he finally caught his breath, he said:

“Okay.  You win.  If you want to play at being a...hhhhNNGHHyehhtchh!...a maid, I’m not gonna stop you.  Just try not to make too much noise.  I’m gonna watch some TV.”

He grabbed the box of tissues and pulled his legs up onto the sofa so he could recline comfortably.  He pulled out a tissue to blow his nose loudly - maybe a little overly loud on purpose just on the off chance it would have the added bonus of annoying Connor - as he settled back into the worn but still comfortable throw pillow.  Sitting on his ass and getting waited on hand and foot?  This might not be so bad after all.  Well, except for the feeling more like a lukewarm turd somehow brought to life than a human being.  But, relatively speaking, not so bad.

 

[SneezyHolmes]

Ahh, I loved this! You nailed their characterizations perfectly!  

[Orionbob]

Oh my god this was so good. First of all you wrote Hank's sneezes sounding exactly like I thought they would. Second of all your Hank voice is PERFECT. Perfect.

Quote

 I gotta say, and I truly mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck off.

That line made me laugh out loud, that was so good. I love this. This is exactly what I wanted to read. Thank you!

[murphy dee]

Hank and his dad sneezes are giving me absolute LIFE here, THANK YOU for writing this!!!