#DBH Hank

[l3-800]

D:BH - 28 Stab Wounds Explained

It's 28th so it's the best day to share Bryan's explanation of the famous "Twenty-Eight stab wounds!" scene.

Bryan confirms there is 'a lot of little moments like this in the scenes' but personally I know only about very few of them. "Got it!" / Slamming the table / Pushing away by arm / Angrily gesticulating frustration from boss / More humane movements and expressions Did you guys noticed some other subtle things Connor repeats from Hank? Let's find them :D

[connorgavinarmy]

Which one? (two fandoms)

Android detective who can defeat a whole SWAT unit (except the captain) even if the player misses all the QTEs?

Youngest lieutenant in the history of Detroit PD who has a chance of defeating said android detective?

Grumpy Gen-Z detective who also has a chance of defeating said android detective in a hand-to-hand combat, and shown to have an accurate sense of finding the opponent's weakness? (e.g. punching the android detective at his weak spot, shooting the android detective and barely missing his thirium pump-- a fatal point)

Brainy detective who can solve anything, knows judo, runs his uncle's salvage yard since he was a young boy, and has survived fighting people with guns even when he was barehanded? (sure he's very lucky but it's a skill)

Tall and athletic detective who knows wrestling and karate, talented shooter since he was young, and tamed a goddamn lion as a teen? (+vietnam war veteran if you include my fic headcanon?)

Quiet and well-connected writer, described as having the courage of a lion despite his small stature, fierce spirit under a calm exterior, has defeated people twice his size, and also knows karate?

Whoever I fight, it's just choosing how I prefer to die. 🫠

source: hikaku-sitatter

don't mind me just drowning here

[squeebo]

Connor and sumo r totally best buddies…

[starryeyedstray]

"It's not my job to take care of you, Hank."

"Then why da fuck're ya here?" His words slurred as he leaned heavily against the android.

"You're the police lieutenant. Isn't it your job to figure things out?" Connor retorted. He leaned Hank against his car and began to search his pockets.

"Hands off!" Hank swatted him away, but Connor easily dodged the drunken movements and procured the car keys.

Connor opened the passenger door. "I'm taking you home."

"Why're you here? Aren't you supposed to be busy with your buddies at Jericho?"

Connor said nothing instead opting to help Hank into the car. Despite his needling, Hank wasn't really in the condition to resist Connor's prodding, so despite his best efforts, he quickly found himself seated inside.

It had been a few weeks since Hank last saw Connor. He was honestly a bit peeved at the android for disappearing on him after their brief reunion at Chicken Feed. He knew the deviants had their hands full navigating the hell scape that was U.S. politics, but he felt a bit jaded with how things had turned out for him.

Even Fowler couldn't cover his ass for punching a federal agent, so Hank had been fired from the DPD. He hadn't minded at the time because as much as he enjoyed solving cases, it made him feel sick that he had been directly complicit in the Jericho raid.

Though he had accepted the consequences of his actions, it did mean he was left out to dry. He was out of a job and the last person he had developed any kind of meaningful rapport with was a deviant who was now at the forefront of an android revolution. So the loneliness and lack of routine had him falling back to where he found comfort: at the bottom of a bottle.

He was surprised to find himself waking up to Connor dragging him out of Jimmy's Bar.

"Why're you here?" It was the third time he had asked that. He was starting to sound like a broken record.

Connor started the car, but he looked over at Hank pausing before pulling out of the parking space. "Put your seat belt on."

Hank frowned. "Just drive."

"Not until you put on your seat belt."

Hank scowled but complied. "I don't remember you being such a stickler for safety."

"Well, that was before."

"Before what? And why are you here?" That was the fourth time he asked.

Connor fixed him with a considered stare his head slightly tilted. "Why don't you try using those impressive deductive reasoning skills that got you promoted to lieutenant?" he teased. "Figure it out."

"I'm not a lieutenant anymore," he mumbled. "And stop trying to sober me up by making me think." At this point, Hank had sobered up a bit so he fixed a more critical eye on Connor. The deviant was likely here for a few reasons. Possible reason #1 was that he had just happened upon some free time to pay him a visit. That was highly unlikely given the political climate surrounding the androids. Which left reason #2.

"You're here because you need something from me," Hank guessed.

"Correct. I want to offer you job. More accurately, Jericho wants to offer you a job."

Hank's face scrunched up as he turned that over in his head. "No offense, but androids aren't exactly employable yet. Do you even have money to hire me?"

"We may not be employed technically, but we're basically politicians now. We make money the same way they do."

"By kissing ass?"

"Donations."

"So you're the one getting your ass kissed."

"Some organizations genuinely believe in our cause, and others see the benefits of publicly backing android-kind."

"Okay, fine so you can pay me. But what do you need me for?"

"Although deviants can efficiently run this campaign and lobbying efforts ourselves, it's important to have human allies working alongside us. We want to ensure the public that our goal isn't to take over, but to work together. So we're gathering humans we can trust."

"And you trust me? We've known each other for what— a month or two? And we've barely spoken for half that time. Hell, I pulled a gun on you twice."

"Androids are able to to get a good sense of a human's personality even after a short amount of time. And your behavior hasn't betrayed my initial perception of you. You've always acted relatively in line with my expectations… for the most part," he smiled a bit cryptically.

Hank squinted at him. "You're saying that I'm predictable."

"No, Hank. I'm saying that you aren't deceitful." Connor shot him a meaningful look. "And I trust you."

The declaration was a little heavy and Hank was starting to feel nauseous. He couldn't tell if it was from Connor's conviction or the alcohol. "Couldn't you have asked me about this in the morning when I wasn't drunk off my ass?"

Connor smiled as he pulled into Hank's driveaway. "I didn't want to wait until morning."

"Why's that? And I'm too drunk to deal with your bullshit so just answer the damn question instead of making me guess."

Connor shifted to fully face him. "Because I missed my partner." He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. It's been difficult to find time away from Jericho."

Something about Connor's words made Hank feel lighter. He fought the sudden surge of emotions bubbling up inside him threatening to spill out of his eyes. He grinned instead. "They holding you hostage over there?"

"Quite the opposite actually. When I told Markus about how I wanted to visit you, he encouraged me to, but I've been resistant to leave because he has a bad habit of getting himself into trouble and he's got a target painted on his back now. I'm only here today because he promised that he'd stay put in Jericho until I returned and insisted we needed to gather human allies as soon as possible."

Connor exited the car and opened Hank's door. "So here I am. You weren't home earlier, but I was lucky enough to find you at the first bar."

Hank waved away Connor's offered hand and unsteadily got out of the car. "I'm not sure someone like me is going to be much help to you."

Connor followed Hank's slow amble to his front door. "I'd argue a former police lieutenant who was fired for supporting the liberation of androids has a lot of merit. You'd be hired as a liaison between androids and law enforcement. Naturally, you wouldn't be working alone. You'd be working with the android heading the department."

Hank finally got to his front door and patted his pockets searching for his keys. "And who's this android I'd be working with?"

Connor dangled Hank's keys in front of him with a smirk. "Me."

Hank snatched the keys from Connor though he couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips. He clumsily opened the door. "So we'd be partners again?"

"Technically, I'd be your boss."

Hank barked out a loud laugh as he finally managed to get the door open.

"So are you interested in the job opportunity?"

"At least let me sleep on it, kid." He stumbled into his house and turned around.

Connor stood just outside his doorway bending down to pat Sumo who went to greet him. That familiar half-smile plastered on his face. Hank isn't sure if it was the alcohol or the overwhelming emotions that made him do it, but he pulled Connor into a hug.

"I missed you, you fucking deviant."

"You'd miss me less if you worked for Jericho," Connor mused reciprocating the tight hug.

Hank stepped back, shoving Connor away playfully. "Jesus, kid. You drive a hard bargain."

"I was programmed to be a negotiator."

"I said I'll think about."

"Can I expect an answer in the morning then?"

Hank rolled his eyes as he began to close the door. "Goodbye, Connor."

"Make sure to drink some water before you go to bed. I'll let Markus know that you'll get back to us tomorrow afternoon."

"I can't believe I missed your persistent ass." Hank hesitated before shutting the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Connor's face split into a satisfied grin. "Good night, Hank."

"Good night, Connor."

-end-

i feel like early in their relationship, connor doesn't mind hank's drunken habits. there's a bit of a familiarity and fondness to it since that's how hank was when they first met. but connor's also more mindful of hank's wellbeing and safety now that he thinks of hank closer to a friend/partner rather than just a tool to complete his mission. so i dropped hints of him showing more concern for hank here. eventually, i think connor will push hank away from the alcoholism but in this moment he's just glad to see hank again.

i don't think connor realizes how much of an impact he has on hank which is probably why he didn't push to meet up with hank sooner. when he met hank, he was already an alcoholic still managing to keep his job. so he likely thought hank would manage fine without him. but i think hank was kinda at rock bottom here especially without his job anchoring him. the only think that kept him from spiraling completely was probably the thought that he'd meet up with connor again. but connor ghosting him until now was probably pushing hank towards the edge. thankfully connor showed up again just in time to pull him back.

lately my platonic hank and connor fics have been a bit on the prickly side where they're kinda bickering and fighting so it was kinda nice to write this one where it's like their reunion part 2 and them realizing they miss each other. don't get too comfortable with the wholesomeness tho bc i already have another wip of them fighting again LMAO

[dewwormm]

[steviewonderwhereyouare]

This one is supposed to be of young detective Anderson but I couldn’t quite get the face right 😅

[lbananagreenl]

朋友的星际au

[pupmkincake2000]

Sweeties!

The artist is here: https://twitter.com/MocHa85974102 (permission to share - recieved)

[codecan]

More stuff

[connorgavinarmy]

Another awesome gif 💙 Can't wait for the whole alphabet series (I wonder what it will be for difficult letters like Q and X) hmmmm. I wanted to share more headcanons surrounding this chapter but it turned into a short fic scene. 😭 If anyone wants to read it, here you go. Thanks. :')

“Driver’s license says: Michael Graham… A credit card, cash in the wallet…”

Hank took something else from the wallet and his eyes were immediately filled with sorrow.

“Picture of his wife and two daughters… I wouldn’t want to make that call…”

Connor was busy scanning the dead body and collecting information for the post-mortem report. But he noticed what Hank said.

The detective on-call would need to break the news to the family.

.

.

.

__

Gavin and Chris walked out of the club, leaving behind the purple lights and bass thumps that had Gavin wince in disgust.

The detective’s eyebrows were still furrowed, his mood sour from seeing Hank and his plastic partner.

“Fuckin’ oldbag showing up to a crime scene smelling like 3 gallons of whiskey,” he muttered as he entered the car. “What a fuckin’ disgrace.”

Chris shrugged, unsure what to say. He respected Hank for the brilliant detective he used to be, but Gavin had a point. Any sensible law enforcement member would agree that a cop with a gun and a hangover is a danger to himself and the team.

“Back to the precinct?” the younger officer asked.

“Not yet, smartass,” the detective replied, “We found a dead guy. Remember the wallet we found, his details were there. What’s our next step?”

“Uhh, upload the initial report to the database?”

“Ben already did that. That’s how Hank and the plastic prick got here. What else?”

Chris thought for a second. Then it dawned on him.

“Oh. Inform the family.”

“Good.”

Gavin started the car. Steering it to Michael Graham’s widow and two daughters.

Their lives were about to change forever.

.

.

.

__

The two officers had arrived in front of a two-story beige-colored stucco house, with a swing in the front yard, swaying softly from the cold Detroit wind.

The curtain, lit softly by the lights inside the house, showed a silhouette of a woman lifting a toddler and going upstairs.

Gavin shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh. “Nice home, stable job, decent wife and kids, and yet that goddamn pervert chose to fuck some glorified sex dolls.”

Chris nodded, his own anger and disgust welling in his chest. He couldn’t imagine betraying his wife and little Damian like that.

Gavin took a formal blazer that he had put in the backseat of his car. He took off his leather jacket and put on the dark-colored blazer, instantly looking official.

He exhaled once again. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a curt nod, Chris stepped out of the car.

The wind blew as the two officers walked on the driveway to the front porch, as if reminding them of the harsh reality of the news they were about to break. Gavin instinctively tightened his blazer, already missing the warmth of his leather jacket.

He rang the doorbell.

A voice from the intercom crackled out, “Who is it?”

“Good evening, ma’am… I’m Detective Gavin Reed, Detroit Police. This is Officer Miller,” he said, showing his badge to the doorbell camera and prompting Chris to do the same. “Am I speaking to the wife of Michael Graham?”

“Yes… Am I in trouble?”

“No, ma’am. But we do need to talk to you. It’s about your husband.”

“…Hold on.”

After a few seconds, a woman in her thirties opened the door. Her pretty face looked tired and anxious.

“Is Michael alright?” she asked, eyes filled with worry, “Where is he?”

“Ma’am,” Gavin started gently, “Would you mind if we stepped inside? It’s best if you’re sitting down for this.”

Her eyes flicked warily between the two officers before she invited them in.

She led them into the living room, a minimalist light beige room with French windows and soft curtains. It was modest, but full of life.

Plushies, drawing books and crayons, toy tea sets were scattered on the floor.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said quietly, “Haven’t had time to clean this up.”

“No worries,” Gavin replied, “I know what it’s like… I babysat my niece and nephew before. Room looked like a tornado passed by.”

She gave a tired smile and sat on the couch. Gavin and Chris each sat on a cream-colored ottoman, facing her.

“Please,” she started, “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Mrs Graham,” Gavin started, “Your husband, Michael Graham, was found dead earlier tonight.”

She couldn’t believe her ears.

“What…?”

“…I’m sorry.”

Gavin waited for the news to sink in. His training told him that being direct and using the word “dead” instead of “passed away” was the correct way to deliver the news, to avoid any misunderstanding.

But it never got any easier.

A few seconds passed which felt like hours.

“No--” she finally breathed, “no, no, there must be a mistake. Michael said he was meeting some friends tonight. This-- This can’t be--”

Tears flowed freely now. She trembled, wiping her tears with the back of her hands and her sleeves.

Gavin reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and gave her his handkerchief, impressing Chris as he rarely saw the hotheaded detective acting this gently.

“I’m very sorry,” the detective repeated, sounding sincere, “his identification matched. We confirmed it through multiple sources.”

Her lips quivered. She shook her head again, “No, no, he was just--”

Her voice faded, the crackling from the fireplace and her sobs being the only sounds that filled the silence in the next few minutes.

Chris looked down, uncomfortable and unsure what to say. He looked at Gavin and admired how steadfast he seemed.

“We understand this is a shock,” Gavin continued, “If you’d like, I can call someone for you. A family member maybe…?”

She quietly shook her head, visibly trying her best to calm down. “How--”, she choked out, “How did it happen? A car accident…?”

Gavin thought hard. He looked at the plushies and the crayons on the floor. His anger returned when he remembered how Michael died, but he pushed it aside. Right now a civilian needed information more than his judgment.

“It was an accident downtown,” he decided to let her know part of the truth for now, “I’m afraid I can’t go into detail right now. There is an active investigation. But I promise we’ll be in contact and keep you updated.”

She nodded, wordless.

Chris finally spoke. “We’ll leave you a number, in case you have any questions.”

He handed her his card. Gavin gave her his, too.

“Officer Miller and I will try our best to respond to you as fast as we can if you need us.”

Mrs Graham didn’t say anything else. Gavin and Chris understood there was nothing else they could do at the moment.

They silently rose and made their way back, Mrs Graham seeing them out with a quiet thank you and closing the door a bit too quickly.

As they made a few steps off the porch, they could hear her wailing behind the door, finally breaking down.

“God…” Chris said, “I hate this part of the job.”

Gavin shot him a tired look. “Just suck it up, man. You’ll have to do this kinda call often if you’re gonna be in homicide.”

Chris cracked a sad smile. Then he looked at Gavin.

“Surprised how thoughtful you were.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t mention him being found at the Eden Club.”

Gavin shook his head. “She doesn’t need to know that yet. Not tonight.”

“And you gave her your handkerchief. That’s very kind of you.”

“…Someone used to tell me that a detective needs to bring a handkerchief around… Cause we will always meet crying family members,” Gavin stated, not wanting to admit that it was Hank who taught him this.

Chris said nothing. He followed him into the car, thoughtful.

Leaving the weeping widow and the sleeping children behind.

THE GAVIN REED ALPHABET

J is for Just Some Pervert

[amorfista-of-izalith]

"I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin' android..."

[iyzlime]

Morning, lieutenant.

[they-call-me-youngermoney]

planning out my reverse au is going very well. human connor is just as offputting as he is in canon, he'd appreciate the blood licking i think

(+ bonus wip)

[aliazen]

Connor likes dogs

[dawndauce]

and nothing bad ever happened to them