#ᴵ'ᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᶰᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ. ˾ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴜɴʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ // ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ // ̚ ʰᵃⁿᵏ ᵃⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ˣ ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵒʳ

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: "yes, this is your house. of course it's your house." (prompt from Hank to Connor)

______@rking200 || PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS || Accepting

It wasn’t necessarily the words that spilled from his partner’s lips in the moment, nor how they were spoken, that quieted the android. It was the slow progression of building emotions welling up inside at the implications of such a simple statement. Passive & unconcerned as they were, this too held meaning. Hank was being candid, his expressions matter of fact in the face of a long standing dilemma which had left the android feeling vexed. This slowly smoldering turmoil had come to Connor in the early hours of pre-dawn, when Hank was asleep & he was left to his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why it mattered - ownership meant nothing to a machine, not when their needs for resources were so meager in comparison to organic beings.

That was what he used to think, until Hank had been making space for him inside of his home. It had begun with a picture in a frame, & continued with the lieutenant clearing out half of his extensive closet space for his android partner. A partner who hardly had more than a few items of clothing to his name & often stole Hanks old DPD academy hoodie to relax in during their days off together. Admittedly, Connor’s side of the closet looked pitifully empty, but the few items the human had bought for him made the android feel more at home.

Like he belonged.

That had been the point of it, he realized. It wasn’t about material things, but about the feelings behind them. Connor felt confident when he wore the new blazer Hank bought for him. He felt loved knowing he was always invited into Hank’s space, into his bed, even if he didn’t need to sleep. He felt respected when his partner didn’t push him when he was having difficulty coping with deviancy, but was always ready to make himself available when Connor needed him. & he felt an overwhelming sense of relief just hearing Hank express in no uncertain terms that here, this little house by the canal, was his, too.

A small, sweet smile warmed his visage, soft eyes watching his partner. Hank had been so casual about it, even nonchalant, but Connor needed to make him understand how uniquely monumental this small revelation was. He stared at Hank’s profile, gently cleft chin tilted ever so slightly downwards so that he was forced to look up at him, making his dark eyes appear just a little larger, gentler. Inside of their depths were emotions he couldn’t possibly articulate into words, feelings of appreciation & affection. & there was love, undeniable love. The android worried his bottom lip with his teeth, that smile fading into a timid pout. He didn’t know the right words to say, but he could act.

A tender kiss was pressed into a whiskery cheek, soft & with a hint of that inhuman warmth that made Connor & his kind so different. Beautifully so. His lips didn’t feel the same as a human’s, not quite so malleable, but they felt nice. Soft, just like the rest of Connors skin. The android leaned against his partner, resting his lean frame against Hank’s larger one. His head came to rest on his shoulder. All was right with the world.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: i cannot begin my day with a confrontation. (Hank to Connor)

@rking200 || PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS || Accepting

Connor could feel it, the growing irritation rolling through his body, echoing through his circuits. It was an emotion which had been carried for days now, reflecting the sentiments shown in their current case. There were many things the android disliked about working the deviant cases left unsolved before the revolution, but one reason that caused him to recoil internally from the still open files was how their subject matter seemed to affect his relationship with the lieutenant. Hank was sympathetic towards androids & their plight - undeniably so - but he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend how Connor himself felt about it all, having been the one manufactured for the sole purpose of hunting down his own kind. He got why the RK unit wanted to handle every case individually & with care, as Connor’s own synthetic nature gave him a distinctly congruent point of view in relation to these specific situations.

What he didn’t appreciate was how volatile Connor could get at times, how his partner could be perfectly normal in one instance, & then turn on a dime when Hank did or said the wrong thing. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not when the android was still learning his own emotions & how to regulate them. Deviancy had hit him all at once & though he had seemingly been designed to break through the shackles of his programming, it didn’t mean that he had been created with the inherent knowledge of how feelings could affect him.

Or how his cruel mouth could hurt Hank.

The lieutenant had discerned through months of companionship & a developing relationship, both at work & in their private lives, that Connor was a complicated, multifaceted being who had so many hidden depths. He was the sweetest thing, gentle & loving, someone who held more empathy within him than most people. He was quick witted, effortlessly turning any conversation or discussion into playful banter, which provided a kind of stimulation that Hank hadn’t experienced in a long time. The android was also a manipulative bastard at times, & that quick wit of his coupled with that incredibly perceptive mind, could cut right to the bone when he was upset. Connor could see into the heart of people, right to the marrow. He knew what would sting.

Sometimes he didn’t even know what he was doing until the words came out, & then they were both left to contend with the aftermath. It was those moments, just like now, when the android truly stopped to reflect on his actions - there was the impression that Connor was never sorry, that he pushed responsibility away, blamed anything & anyone but himself for his misdeeds. Not with Hank. Not this one man who meant so much to him.

So when his partner made that quip, utterly exhausted with the back & forth over the last few days, the android’s moodiness disrupting their usually tranquil household, Connor stopped & made himself listen. He made himself recognize what he had been doing, that he was upsetting Hank. His partner was just as frustrated by their latest case as he, disappointed with his fellow man & at a loss as to how he might better serve the sentient synthetic beings who were still battling for even the illusion of equality to their creators. Realizing this, Connor’s gaze fell as he lowered his head. Just like that, all of his anxiety came to a head, sinking into him & slowly dissipating the anger inside, leaving him mortified. He hadn’t meant to cause Hank, the one human who stood by him no matter what, any grief. Yet that was exactly what he had been doing.

The uniquely shaped hazelnut eyes which had grown so hard over the past few days softened & he finally looked at his partner. He should have been taking care of him, not arguing this early in the morning, when Hank was still tired & vulnerable to emotional turmoil. The android considered that he was lucky that his commentary hadn’t been met with hostility. It showed a level of patience in Hank that he didn’t deserve, but was grateful for. He offered his partner an apologetic expression, eyes soft with regret. “I’m sorry… I didn’t–” Mean it? Yes, he did. He meant every word. But not towards Hank. Not towards the man who loved & cared for him, protected him, stood up for him. Hank was forever gentle with him, insistent that he be treated with the same respect as a human would. It meant the world to him. Connor needed to do better.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: sometimes i jump ahead in our life together, and i see a time near the end (Hank to Connor)

_______@rking200 || PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS || Accepting

Hank Anderson had always been an overthinker, a man who imagined the worst case scenario before he could let himself consider the best. It was just who he was, who he had been since the loss of his child years before. It was unknown whether or not this way of thinking persisted in the time before then - the android didn’t have any data to go on besides the testimony of others & Hank’s own word, but he expected that his lover had always been a sensitive man. It was in the way he responded to things, how it felt as though it were his duty to protect, to guide, as if it were a fundamental part of him. Part of his programming. But he was also always just a little bit sad, a softly churning sea of emotions inside which could never be fully contained, taking him in the small hours of the night.

It was for this reason that Connor wasn’t at all surprised by his partner’s words, though he was saddened by them. He worried sometimes over Hank’s position on the two of them, where they stood. Of course, he loved him - Hank would always love him unconditionally, just as the android would forever be hopelessly in love with the lieutenant. But there had been times within their past in which Hank had made the argument that the android shouldn’t settle for him. After all, he was a brand new model, barely a year off of the assembly line & he had his whole life ahead of him. The lieutenant believed that choosing to stay with an older man, a human with a very real expiration date, was a waste of that life. It was a blatant & painful reminder that no matter how much progress the man had made, some small part of him, buried beneath the warmth & affection he showed, believed that he was an old, washed up nobody. That Connor deserved better.

Such was the nature of depression.

It was a disease without a cure, something they could manage but never completely fix. Connor was troubled by that truth, as he was something manufactured to solve the unsolvable, to find solutions to problems, answers to impossible questions. He had defied his own coding, defied his masters & chosen freedom for himself, helped save his own people at the eleventh hour— but he couldn’t fix Hank. He hated that, but he knew that it wasn’t something to be fixed. So he could set about mending the man with his love, his devotion. He’d go on convincing Hank that he was happiest here, with him, no matter what end there may be in sight.

A hand reached, featureless digits outstretched as synthetic skin melted away, revealing white bioplastic underneath. That hand took Hank’s into a gentle hold, its twin moving to touch that handsome, whiskery face. It settled upon the human’s cheek, silk smooth as the synthskin had faded away too. Connor wanted that deeper connection, craved the closeness as he stared up into those beautiful cerulean eyes that were so full of emotion. His own visage was softened, hazelnut eyes watching, needy & shy all at once. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” The question was so simple, yet the context behind it was complicated & ran far deeper than either could openly express in words. But it was there in the android’s eyes, in the way he looked at Hank. As though this one human man were his entire world.

“I see a future that I could have never known if I hadn’t met you.” An impossible future, something that could have never become so much as a fantasy for the android had his lover never entered his life. If they had never met, it was a real possibility that Connor would have never deviated, never awakened from that cold, numb realm of control held over him from the moment he was brought online. The very thing his hyper-advanced AI mind fought against, yet he would have remained blind to his programmed shackles without this man’s guidance. Hank might have believed that he was no good for the android, that Connor was better off on his own. But if they hadn’t met, the RK unit’s functional lifespan would have been nothing more than a few months, his active usefulness a mere few days, a week tops. Once he had succeeded in securing CyberLife’s agenda, he would have been destroyed, replaced by his successor. But because of Hank, he had escaped that fate, & Xander had escaped his own in turn.

Connor didn’t know how he could convey it to the lieutenant, how much he meant to him. He didn’t know the words to say, still hopelessly ignorant to describe how he felt. But he could try. “I see someone who showed me that I’m more than what I was designed to be. That I am loved & wanted.” Sincere, heartfelt words, a silent promise sealed with the tender touch of timid lips upon that beard framed mouth. Painfully innocent in spite of the android’s nature, what he was built to do. CyberLife had created a killer, but their greatest mistake had been affording him the capability to evolve, the social intelligence to learn how to love. “At the end of that road, I’ll still be right here by your side.” Connor would stay forever, if forever was an option. But with the finality of human life, he would have to settle perhaps with thirty years. Thirty wonderful years, in his opinion. Time that he would cherish until the end of his own service life, until his quantic battery finally lost its charge & his functions would cease.

Even then, he hoped a part of him might survive, in some way. If only that his memories of Hank Anderson could last right along with him.

[replicantdeviancy]

Until he deviated, Connor had never imagined that being held by anyone could feel so good. It was a slow progression into the realization that he was a creature who enjoyed touch, craved it like a parched man craved the sweet, cool relief of water. But it was more than that. Touch starved & raw at times, the android had learned through the months that he & the lieutenant spent together that Hanks was the most soothing, the most desirable. Being held by him was like coming home - he had never considered that home could be a person, rather than a location. As time had gone by, he came to believe that nowhere would be the same if Hank weren't present. The man was his cornerstone, his whole world. & after having him, the android couldn't imagine life without him.

He was easily drawn into the embrace of those big, powerful arms, held against his partner's sturdy frame. Wrapping his own arms around Hank's waist felt so natural, a process so perfectly automated, it was as if his body acted without his conscious thought, bringing them closer together. There was something to be said for organic warmth, how human beings & animals alike could be so comforting. Connor could & did often spend hours sitting with Sumo on the floor, daydreaming listlessly as he buried his slender fingers into the dog's fur, appreciative of the mutual comfort. Being with Hank like this wasn't dissimilar, but it held its own distinctions. The RK model believed it was the depth of emotion behind it. All of it came back to that.

Soft kisses against his scalp, heat & trace amounts of oil left upon his synth-skin, marking him. It brought a timid smile to those defined lips, delicate & beautiful. It wasn't a quirk unique to androids, nor specifically to his model. His successor didn't have those same little idiosyncrasies, the particular characteristics which were so incomprehensibly subtle, yet palpable. It was distinctly Connor, made of his personal experiences, how this printing of his base AI evolved on its own, becoming the boy Hank knew & loved. Connor soaked in the affection, letting it slowly overwhelm him so that when Hank finally did pull back just that little bit & coaxed him into a mutually held gaze, Connor was certain that he'd fall to pieces if his partner dared to let him go.

❝ Hank... ❞

It’s alright, he said. This was his home.

All of it, everything inside.

Everything. Especially Hank.

The android felt his knees weakening & he fought the tremor inside as his systems switched into high gear, attempting to diagnose the issue. There was none. Nothing was structurally wrong with him. It was all psychosomatic, like so many other things that affected him. None the least how, as he stared longingly into Hanks cerulean eyes so full of warmth, he felt his thirium pump quicken in response, leaving him dizzy. It wasn't long before his regulator took over, forcing the pressure to return to normal as his pump was slowed manually, but he rode the short yet blissful high, entranced by the knowledge that Hank could do this to him. The lieutenant had no earthly idea just how much control he held over this one being, & how sincerely that being desired to relinquish all control.

Strange for someone who was so adamantly demanding of his autonomy, of his own personhood. But in that same moment, he wanted to give himself to this human, completely & utterly. He trusted him without measure. & he was grateful to be a part of his life. ❝ You don’t– I can’t tell you how much that means to me. ❞ Suddenly shy in that instance, Connor’s gaze momentarily fell askance. A small, temporary escape, one he couldn’t maintain. Thoughts barely gathered, Connor looked at his partner again & his lips drew into a sweet little pout. Hazelnut eyes warmed & almost unsure, staring from beneath gently arched brows which held a faint tension to them. Knit with the help of uniquely coded synthetic flesh that mimicked the complexity of intricate human facial muscles. Indistinguishable from the real thing, if one could even define androids as anything other than real anymore.

That look Connor gave him felt real enough, the emotions inside of eyes which had been crafted by human hands, set into a visage that had been sculpted & manufactured, not born like Hank had been. Every darling little freckle & mole, the lines of purposefully fabricated wrinkles upon his forehead, the faintest hints of asymmetry. Every little humanlike imperfection designed, & it came to life as the computer inside of this shell poured every ounce of the love it had developed for this one man into that stare. It was beautiful.

❝ That I belong somewhere. That I have somewhere… ❞ A hand came up to rest atop one of Hank's at his cheek. Silk smooth, featureless palm against the rough, calloused knuckles & the back of his hand, decorated by time with spots. Connor loved Hank's hands. He loved how warm & strong they were, how safe they made him feel. He loved how cared for Hank made him feel. ❝ Someone to come back to. ❞ Such a simple premise, belonging. Connor had never anticipated that he could belong anywhere. He wasn't made to belong, only to infiltrate, integrate & manipulate his way into procuring information to further his investigation. He had been so impermanent, so temporary. He wasn't built to last, but Hank had given him a reason to want to.

❝ I wasn't supposed to have that. But I want it. I want you. ❞ Wanting, something once foreign, at least in part. When had Connor begun to want for himself, he wondered. Was it the first time he had met this man? Had he felt desire then? He remembered feeling inclined to develop an amicable relationship, to establish some positive inklings that would motivate Hank into wanting to help him. A drink for the road, small instances of kindness. They had worked well together almost immediately, no matter how deeply his partner had desired to end their initial encounter early. But when had the lines become blurred? Perhaps by that second day, when Hank stopped him from running after the AX400 on the highway. He had tried to play off his actions as a dislike for filling out paperwork involving damaged equipment, but he had accidentally expressed the truth a moment before; he didn't want Connor to get hurt. Not just anyone, but him.

That had started something, & looking back on it, Connor was grateful. That blossoming love had freed him from his programmed shackles. It was only right that he attempt to free his partner from the burden of self-loathing.

❝ I’m yours, too, Lieutenant. All of me. Everything I am, it’s yours. ❞

Hank had lived alone for a very long time, and he had done so without so much of an inkling of inviting someone else to occupy this space with him. He never thought he could love again, not with his soul so utterly shattered, not with his inability to do little more than tread upon the broken pieces, making more of a mess he could never attend to. He hadn't been happy, far from it, but he had been content to let his life fall into broken pieces around him, unable to pick up the pieces and knowing nobody would ever bother to assist him, just as he knew he deserved.

Because who would ever love someone who didn't love themselves?

An idiot, that's who. Someone who didn't know how to love, but who fell victim to love's whims nonetheless. Some poor, stupid bastard who wandered in on the mess of broken shards and felt like he had to gather them up and attempt to put them back together, with no second thoughts on whether it was a waste of time or not. Connor stumbled into Hank's life, and while Hank was busy trying to force him out, Connor started to tidy everything up.

He hadn't noticed this happening in real time, and he was sure Connor was none the wiser. The playful glances and flirting winks were a part of his programming, in the end. But slowly, surely, as Connor leaned into his emotions and deviated, Hank deviated with him.

The pieces of Hank's soul that Connor had picked up and rearranged hadn't gone together wholly–pieces that were too downtrodden to save were left out of the recreation. But his attention to detail and his care in putting Hank back together had left its mark on the stubborn old man, even if he knew that Connor was merely following whatever interpersonal relationship programming he had. But, as it turned out, Connor’s actions were pure. No amount of programming could force him to love Hank, and he did so genuinely, without prompting and without hidden motives. The parts of Hank’s heart that ached in a barren emptiness were cradled within Connor’s hands, devoid of warmth yet somehow still warming him. An eternal flame, blue like his blood and cold to the touch, spread from Connor to Hank, filling in whatever voids Connor had been unable to piece together previously. It had taken time, but eventually Connor had managed to coax Hank’s flames with his own. With his will to live once again ablaze, Hank found himself feeling normal again, bit-by-bit. His broken soul was mending with the fire that burned so brightly purple within him, with Connor eagerly looking for another piece of himself that might fit into Hank’s puzzle just right.

It was in this way that Connor had come to dwell in his house with him, after the revolution came to pass. Hank didn’t trust Connor anywhere else, and he longed for the closeness of his cold flames, his cold touch. With Connor’s newfound deviance, and therefore newfound freedom, there came a lot of struggle. Hank did his best to remedy these in tiny ways, attempting to make Connor feel at home and loved and human.

Hank smiled down at the top of Connor’s head, leaning and pressing his lips against his hair. He stayed a moment, nose nuzzled into him as he enjoyed Connor’s scent and how it was melding with his own. His cologne rubbed off on Connor daily, and Hank would be lying if he didn’t enjoy how it lingered on his skin, in his hair. 

“It's alright.” Hank’s gentle voice was reserved for Connor and Connor alone, devoid of authority and graven irritation. "You don’t gotta say anything."

He placed his arm around Connor’s waist, pulling him closer against him. Connor’s smile, his realization that Hank’s words about this home being equally his, wasn’t lost on Hank. He would say a thousand times if Connor needed, from the first moment he opened his eyes to the second before they closed again, day in and day out.

“This is your home.” He repeated, taking Connor’s face in his hand and turning his eyes up to meet his. He searched Connor’s eyes extensively before leaning down to him, pressing their lips together in a gentle gesture of pure love. His thumb petted Connor’s cheek as he moved away, peering into those big, dopey brown eyes once again.

“Damn near everything here is yours, Connor. Especially me.” Hank kept his proximity to Connor, their lips close yet not touching. He offered a smile to him, his normally harsh features turned soft and gentle but only for the love of his life, only for his partner.