Chapter Text
Hank has been staring at the same line of text for at least 15 minutes, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It’s a slow day at the precinct, and a slow day outside of it too. Rain battered the building. No sign of the sun coming out. Most people were staying home today - even the criminals, for fucks sake.
Blinking the sleep out of eyes, he tries to focus on the words in front of him. He takes a swig of coffee. His focus only lasts for a few seconds before the words blur again, the rain becoming a pleasant background noise.
He considers just going home for the day. Yeah, he has paperwork to catch up on, but when doesn't he? Fowler can yell at him later, the grumpy bastard. Hank’s practically sleeping in his chair, and so is everyone else - if the slow-blinking and constant yawning is anything to go by. If someone could just turn the lights off, it’d be nap time.
A flash of movement catches his eye, and he notices his partner stiffen up across from him with a red blinking LED. Concern envelops him, cause that’s no good, and he opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong-
“-Aaa-choo!”
Connor jolts in his seat, hands gripping the edge of his desk and eyes wide as if he’s been shot. His nose twitches. Everyone looks over, curious, and Connor’s face slowly turns blue the longer that eyes are trained on him.
“Since when do you sneeze?” Hank asks, relieved it wasn’t anything bad and leaning forward to get a better look at him. “Sounded like how my gramps used to.”
The comment earns him a few laughs, and Connor ducks his head. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a shy smile. His LED spins yellow.
“I downloaded an upgrade to my social module last night. It allows me to mimic certain human behaviors and functions, in order to assist my blending in as a deviant.”
Hank bobs his head, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.
‘‘Probably blend in better if you didn’t phrase it as ‘mimicking,’ Connor,” he notes with amusement.
The blue blush Connor has been attempting to fight down surges back, and he hums in acknowledgment. The android straightens himself up and mechanically places his hand on his terminal to resume working. If it weren’t for his blue face, Hank might’ve thought he was back to a machine.
But one of his eyes twitch. His nose scrunches. His shoulders hunch. He squeezes his eyes shut with a sharp inhale, and Hank prepares himself for another obnoxiously loud sneeze. Connor fights to hold it in, frame stiff, but then-
’”choo,” is the sound that leaves him this time. A kitten sneeze, for all his tensing and drama. Connor sighs, relaxing in his seat with the expression of someone who’s just survived a damn plane crash. Only for his face to scrunch yet again, his arm rising up to cover another sneeze and effectively-
smack
-slapping his own nose.
Hank snorts at the offended look the android gives his own arm, shaking his head fondly as giggles float through the precinct. He leans over his desk, staring Connor down until the kid makes eye contact with him.
”I think you’re getting the hang of it,” he says, voice completely serious. He’s enjoying his partner’s embarrassment. “At least you don’t have snot,” he adds.
Connor hastily agrees, his own nodding triggering him to sneeze again. This time around he manages to muffle the sound in the crook of his elbow, seeming satisfied with himself.
He explains to Hank later, as the two arrive home, that there had been dust particles in his nose.
“My systems have just finished filtering the particulates out,” he finishes with relief clear in his voice. “The precinct would benefit from being dusted more often. Maybe twice a week…”
As Hank unlocks the door, Sumo bounding across the floor and greeting them with excitement, he has a question.
”Can android get allergies?”