Chapter Text
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It's been a long day working and running errands, so it's an instant relief when he pushes the key into their door lock and twists, hearing Sumo boofing quietly for him on the other side. He comes in and crouches down to pet him, smiling softly, relieved to finally be home.
He stands up after they're both satisfied with pets, Sumo trotting back over to lie on his bed. Connor's gaze follows him, and then turns to the living room couch where Hank is. He’s about to greet him when he realizes he's asleep.
Connor walks to stand beside the couch. He watches Hank for a few moments before noting that a documentary about wildlife is on the television; he connects to it for a moment and turns down the volume.
Hank is reclined, sinking into the pillows, head leaned back and dipped to the side, snoring every once in a while. He's in his lounge wear: a gray T shirt along with a pair of tartan sleep pants, and he's wearing the slippers Connor bought him almost half a year ago for Christmas - ones with little saxophones on them. Connor smiles, feeling immensely fond.
He turns and takes the blanket that's draped on the back of the armchair to the left of him, unfolding it and draping it over Hank gently, so as to not wake him. Connor can't resist the insane urge to lean down and place a soft kiss on Hank's temple. He brushes his silver bangs back from his forehead tenderly. He looks at him for a bit to process all the emotions that spark within him. Deviancy is still something hard to get used to, even though it's been nearly a year since he broke free from his programming.
There's some things that come easy, like laughter and smiles… along with sadness. He learned pretty early on that that comes easy as well. But there are things that are confusing, like frustration, or annoyance. Like the soft, warm, light emotion that somehow still weighs so much, that settles over him when he's... well, when he’s with Hank.
It took him a while to figure out that that emotion was love. When he found out, it wasn’t a big revelation like he's seen in some of the movies he and Hank watch, or on TV shows he sometimes catches himself watching on his own. There weren’t any fireworks in the background or any "cheesy" music soundtracks to accompany it, it simply… happened.
He's just about finished with both their laundry, folding socks in the bedroom, when Hank walks in to get a new shirt from the closet. He’s grumbling about how it began raining out of the blue, and curses when he nearly trips on the way to the bathroom. It’s then that Connor realizes, holding one black sock in each hand, that he's in love with him.
It hits him out of nowhere, this sudden and intense feeling of affection, and it scares him slightly, but more than that it's... peculiar. And that moment changes everything and nothing at all.
A week later he sees a blooming flower - the first of the bunch of buds surrounding it - on his walk with Sumo, and he stops to stare at it, stroking the smooth, fragile petals lightly between his thumb and index finger. The snow has melted but the ground is still cold, and yet this flower looks thriving and beautiful under the light of the sun.
That's how he begins referring to this new revelation - this new feeling inside him blooms, and he treats it as gently as he holds the petals of a flower.
And then, when the flowers are already done blooming and the ground is warmed by the sun in the sky, those petals fall out of his hands and spill around him, and that's when he learns about feelings like heartbreak.
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