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Connor didn’t understand why he liked mornings with you so much.
The apartment was quiet, sunlight filtering through the thin curtains and spilling across the couch where you sat curled up with a blanket and a mug of coffee. You were still half-asleep, hair messy, eyes soft—nothing like the chaos of the outside world he spent so much time analyzing.
And yet… his processors felt warmer when you were like this.
“You’re staring,” you said gently, without looking up from your mug.
Connor blinked. “Am I?”
“Yes,” you smiled, finally meeting his eyes. “Very intensely.”
“I was not aware,” he replied, tilting his head slightly. “I was… observing.”
You laughed softly and patted the space beside you. “Come observe over here.”
He hesitated for exactly 0.7 seconds before sitting next to you, posture straight as ever, hands folded neatly in his lap. You immediately leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Connor froze.
“Are you… comfortable?” he asked carefully.
“Mhm,” you murmured. “Are you?”
Another pause. “I believe so,” he said. “My systems indicate no errors.”
You smiled, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. His hand was cool—always was—but familiar. Safe.
“I like mornings with you,” you said quietly.
Connor glanced down at your intertwined hands. “May I ask why?”
“Because they’re calm,” you replied. “Because you’re here. Because nothing bad is happening for once.”
His thumb moved—just slightly—brushing against your knuckle. It wasn’t something he’d been programmed to do. It was something he’d learned.
“I also find them… pleasant,” he admitted. “Statistically, my stress indicators are lower when you are nearby.”
You laughed again, softer this time. “That’s the most romantic thing you could’ve said.”
He looked confused. “It is?”
You turned your face toward him, close enough now that he could see the tiny freckles on your nose. “Yeah, Connor. It is.”
He hesitated, then leaned in—careful, deliberate—and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His LED glowed a soft, steady blue.
“I am glad,” he said quietly. “That I am… enough.”
You wrapped your arms around him without thinking, pulling him into a hug. This time, he hugged you back immediately, arms warm and certain around you.
“You are,” you whispered. “You always are.”
Connor held you like he was afraid the moment might disappear if he let go—and for the first time, he didn’t try to analyze why his chest felt full.
He just stayed.