"Connections" Detroit: Become Human (Hank, M, Cold)

[SleepingPhlox]

For some reason this fandom likes to shove its way back into my brain and heart around this time of year.  And I haven't been much able to drag fics out of my brain for a long time so I decided to exercise my fic writing muscles by making a little one-shot for this.  In which Hank is sick and Connor thinks he's invented the art of deep thinking.

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"Connections"

“Hehhh...hhhhRRRRshhhu!”

With a sigh that managed to convey just how weary and fed up he was with it's tone and duration, not to mention the undertones of congestion and voice-raspiness, Hank Anderson unfolded the crumpled, throughly-damp tissue he'd been clutching like his life depended on it. And despite the fact that it had outlived its usefulness two blows ago, he pressed it to his raw, screaming-red nose, and demanded it endure even more.

Yeah, that had been a bad idea. He sighed again, and let it drop to the floor. The tissue box was just out of reach on the coffee table, and it wasn't that he didn't have the energy to prop himself up in his nest on the couch and reach for it, although that was part of it, it was that getting out of the blanket was so damn cold. He had three layers covering his chest and arms, plus the thick blanket, and he was still chilled to the bones. Part of it was possibly psychological, it was snowing like nobody's business outside and just seeing that icy whiteness out of the windows made him shiver at the very thought of it even though he was safely indoors with the heaters on.

Or it could be because he was on Day 2 of a merciless cold. Or maybe a little of both of those reasons. Whatever, it didn't actually matter. What mattered was he was freezing and miserable and it sucked. He couldn't enjoy the basketball game on TV, or even follow it for that matter.

Oh well, he didn't need the tissue right away. He'd just pull the blanket around him as tightly as he could, and try to warm himself up. As if he hadn't been trying that all day and failing miserably – emphasis on the miserable.

“HehhhNGGHHRRktchhhu!”

With yet another sigh that was more of a growl really, he reluctantly pushed himself up with his arms and snatched the tissue box, tucking it under his arm to make sure he wouldn't have this problem again. This got the attention of Connor, who had been sitting at the desk by the front window, quietly and unobtrusively in a way that only an android could be.

“Are you all right?” Connor said in a voice that was both unemotional and friendly at the same time. That tone of voice had freaked Hank out for a while at first, but he was getting used to it.

“Just peachy,” Hank grumbled sarcastically, then added in a much more sincere tone “I feel like shit. Still. But there's nothing I can do but wait for it to be over, so there's no point in you worrying about it. Go back to what you were doing.”

So Connor did. He turned his head and fixed his gaze back on the pile of Christmas lights on the desk. They had been a gift from Hank, who had flat out refused to have anything whatsoever to do with decorations when the holidays rolled around, but relented and bought this small set when Connor displayed a seriously weird affinity for staring at Christmas lights. And the set was still here, though Christmas had been and gone and the relentless bleakness of January was upon them.

Hank didn't get it. At all. There were perfectly good sports Connor could watch on TV right now, but instead he chose to sit at the desk with this pile of lights – which weren't even arranged in any sort of way, just sitting there – and stare at them. Android brains – or what they had that acted like brains – just worked differently, he guessed. Whatever it was that Connor found entertaining about the blinking lights, he wasn't going to take that away from him.

The lights had many different settings, but Connor firmly preferred the one that alternated between colours. Red and yellow, then blue and green. Red and yellow, then blue and green. Over and over and over. Red and yellow, lit up for a couple of seconds, just long enough for him to contemplate their presence, then disappearing again to be replaced by blue and green for him to ponder.

The more he looked at them, the more they fascinated him. The colours had connections, it seemed to him. At first the connections were very minor – red, yellow, and green like the lights on traffic lights. Blue like his armband. Those colours had meanings: Stop, Caution, Go, Android, respectively - and that was intriguing. But then he had more thoughts. Red was like the apple he'd seen someone eating in the canteen at the station. Green was like trees in the summer. Blue, well that was an interesting one. Blue was like his “blood”, and like skies and when humans drank water it was clear but water looked so blue in lakes and rivers. Blue, then, was really like the abstract concept of life.

As he watched the alternating colours, the connections became more and more abstract. He wondered if anyone, human or android, had ever thought this way. Perhaps he'd invented a new way of thinking entirely! Perhaps it took an android brain to understand these sort of complexities. He'd ask Hank later, when Hank wasn't so...preoccupied.

“Hehhh...HARRGGHtchuu!”

How a sneeze could sound angry, Connor wasn't sure, but Hank had managed it. The loud utterance was followed by a deep, congested snort. Then, a groan when Hank realised that he needed to blow his nose yet again – the poor irritated skin on his nose was begging to be left alone, but certain things had to be done. The loud, cacophonous blowing was followed by a few coughs – and he swore that if this cold moved to his chest, he was going to demand to be put out of his misery like an injured racehorse.

And for some reason Connor had moved from his spot at the desk, to the armchair near the sofa.

“What's up?” he said to the blank-yet-friendly (seriously, that was still so weird) android face looking at him placidly but somewhat expectantly.

“I thought perhaps you might want some company. To get your mind off your current situation.”

“There's nothing that can get my mind off my current situation,” Hank said, followed by a few more coughs. Seriously, he was not in any mind to be dealing with chest crap on top of all the sneezing and the head full of crud. “But we can shoot the shit if you want to.”

“Well, why don't you tell me what you do need,” Connor said. “And I can try to help you.”

“I dunno...” Hank ran a hand through unkempt grey hair. “Could do with a nice bowl of hot chicken soup, but I don't have any of that so I guess I'm shit out of luck there.”

“I can order some,” Connor said, with the definite tone of someone who couldn't quite believe that they had to restate the obvious yet again. Hank was about to point out where his phone was, then remembered that Connor's brain was quite literally connected to the internet. That shit had to be wild. Just, like, thinking webpages and ordering stuff using his brain. Crazy shit that seemed unbelievable to him, that Connor probably took for granted because he'd been able to do it as long as he'd existed.

“Yeah, get me some crackers too. And orange juice. Oh, and ginger ale. And 7 up. And some ibuprofen. Throw some NyQuil in there too. Oh, and some orange Jell-O.”

That last one was an unconventional comfort food but what the hell, he liked to eat it when he was sick and it made him feel better so it was nobody's business but his. It was probably the orange flavour that tricked his brain into thinking it had some sort of health benefit to offer, even though it really offered exactly nothing in the way of healthy nutrition.

“Is that everything?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Get something for yourself if you want to,” Hank added, even though Connor never wanted anything for himself. “hehhhhEHHHghktchhu!...Ugh...add a box of tissues on there if it's not too late.”

“Done. It will be delivered soon.” Connor paused contemplatively. He was thinking about colours again. Chicken soup was decidedly yellow, and the colour orange had featured prominently in that list too. Perhaps yellow, and by extension, orange, represented the abstract concept of health? After a moment of thought, he ventured hesitantly. “Do you...ever think about colours?”

“Maybe? Sometimes. I don't know. Think what about them?”

“Do you ever connect colours to abstract concepts? And how would one decide what colour belongs to what concept?”

“Are you high?”

“I...don't...understand what you mean.”

“Never mind. I guess people do connect meanings to colours.” Oh god, he didn't have the energy to try and work this out right now. “Why don't you tell me what your thoughts are about it, and we'll go from there?”

Hank settled into the blanket. He could think of worse ways to rest and relax than to curl up here and listen to an androids thoughts on the meaning of colours. He settled into his pillow and devoted his last reserve of energy to listening.  Yeah, this wasn't so bad.  Could be worse.

 

 

[Rook]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[*Dark_Side*]

I fully love this and hope to see more.

[Coffee Mug]

Lovely lovely super lovely!!