Chapter Text
The instructions from both the doctors and the technicians were clear. After getting home from the car accident yesterday, Hank and Connor were to take it easy. No driving. No operating machinery. No heavy lifting. No strenuous exercise. No nothing. And they were on medical leave for the rest of the week.
And God, it was boring as Hell.
It hadn’t taken much effort to convince Connor to sleep in Hank’s bed with him last night. Neither wanted to be out of each other’s sight, and Connor was still in too much pain to suffer on the less comfortable couch. The next morning, predictably, had been almost worse, with Hank waking up to his joints and muscles all locked up and sore, his bruises coming in deep and tender, and his headache consuming the entire front of his skull with a throbbing that matched up with his heartbeat.
At least Hank had been ready for that. This was clearly Connor’s first rodeo with ‘waking up sore’ after an injury. Apparently his healing program, despite being top notch, couldn’t take care of everything in one rest cycle. It had left his friend stiff and biting back moans of pain anytime he attempted to move.
Like a couple of zombies, they had managed to shuffle into the living room. Connor had almost immediately crawled into the recliner, complaining that his entire torso and neck were so sore that lying down hurt. Hank, likewise, had flopped onto the couch…his entire torso and neck so sore that doing anything but lying down hurt.
And there they had remained all morning…which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Per doctor’s orders, that’s what they were supposed to be doing, right? But after several hours of just lying here and watching television, the fidgets were setting in. Fortunately, anytime things started to feel boring, the real entertainment would kick on. Hank had started internally calling it “The Connor and Julia Show.”
The ST300 had stopped by that morning to check on them in person, after apparently she had texted Connor and gotten a very groggy and pitiful response.
“Groggy and pitiful” had pretty much summed up Connor’s existence until Julia arrived, then he had suddenly been trying to sit up straighter, fiddling with the pajamas that he’d not bothered to change out of, and fixing his bedhead. Hank hadn’t bothered—this was his house, he was less than 24 hours post-car accident, and he’d been grumpy and comfy if he wanted, thank you very much. But it had been charming to watch his partner fidget still.
Julia didn’t seem to care either way, simply smiling and offering to help them with whatever they needed today. Hank could see that she was still rattled from yesterday as well, and he made no argument when she offered to take Sumo for a walk as a start.
That had been a while ago, and Hank was getting bored again.
Still lying on the couch, facing the kitchen, he flipped idly through television channels while Connor snored in the recliner. Connor was all wrapped up in a quilt like a perfect android burrito with just his head sticking out, lying back in the recliner at a 45 degree angle. His head was tilted back, his mouth hanging open in sleep, and snoring like a chainsaw.
Apparently running a healing program for eighteen hours straight really takes it out of a guy.
Hank smirked as he watched his friend, then heard the front door click open. Sumo’s familiar footfalls and panting barreled into the house, followed by Julia quietly shushing him as she closed the door behind herself. Hank smoothed his smirk, closing his eyes and preparing for another episode of his favorite show.
He cracked open one eye just enough to look through his lashes and see Julia walk behind the couch, returning Sumo’s leash to the hook on the wall. She watched the dog romp down the hall and back and then take a lap around the kitchen, still amped from his walk. He circled into the living room and made a line for Connor, eager to greet his favorite android.
“Tss, tss, tss,” Julia chirped, running interference to keep the dog from waking him up. She whispered, “No, Sumo, hey.”
Sumo immediately pivoted away from Connor, bouncing over to Hank on the couch. Julia made a mad grab for him, but she missed him. The dog shoved his big head onto Hank’s chest, and Hank chuckled, giving up the ruse of sleep and rubbing both hands on either side of Sumo’s head.
“Hey, mutt,” he greeted, voice still low and raspy from sleep.
Julia straightened up, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”
Hank waved her off. “S’fine. Looks like somebody had a good walk.”
“Yeah,” Julia grinned, making a show of rubbing her shoulder and rotating it. “He saw a few squirrels and nearly took my arm out of the socket.”
The mental image of the giant dog dragging an airborne Julia down the street made Hank laugh, which quickly turned to groans as the motion jostled his sore ribs.
Julia made a face at him, folding her arms and cocking her hip. “Hardy-har, I’m sure the—“
Sumo’s wildly wagging tail slapped the television remote off the table, sending it clattering to the floor. It was just enough noise to reach through sleep to rouse Connor. He snorted out of his normal snoring rhythm, and his yellow LED started to speed up a little as he wiggled himself awake. It took a few seconds, but he finally opened his eyes to see Hank, Sumo, and Julia all staring at him.
“Hi,” Julia cooed at him indulgently.
He stared at her for a sleepy beat, then closed his mouth and blinked. “Hey.”
Julia smirked, and her head swiveled to look at Hank. “Guess the train has reached the station.”
Hank cackled, then groaned again, rubbing his chest. Connor frowned.
“What?”
“You snore like a freight train, my good dude,” Julia teased.
Connor shifted, sitting up a little in the recliner. “I do not.”
Julia shook her head and walked into the kitchen, and Connor looked sourly to Hank. Hank, for his part, just grinned and lifted his phone, wiggling it at him.
“I recorded you doing it, son. Irrefutable evidence.”
Connor looked betrayed. “Delete that.”
“Never in a million years,” Hank cackled. “It’s too friggin’ adorable.”
“I am not adorable.”
“Awww,” Julia crooned from the kitchen. “Yes, you are, buttercup.”
Connor pouted and slouched in his burrito, only making Hank’s point all the more.
“So,” Julia went on. “I am not even going to attempt to cook anything, so what are we feeling for lunch? I can get drone delivery in twenty minutes.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Connor stated, pulling the recliner back upright and struggling his way out of his burrito. “You’ve done enough.”
Behind him, Julia raised her eyebrows, staring at the back of his head. “You want me to leave then?”
“No,” Connor replied too quickly, then flattened his expression and gingerly climbed out of the recliner. “I just don’t…want to burden you.”
“I don’t mind it,” Hank chimed in, wrestling Sumo away from licking his face.
“Thank you, Hank,” Julia chirped. “At least somebody appreciates me.”
“I…appreciate you,” Connor muttered sheepishly.
Julia gave him a narrow look, then winked to let him off the hook, looking back to Hank. “So? Sandwiches? Tacos? Pizza? What?”
“Tacos,” Hank swiftly said, pointing at her.
Connor looked at him, scandalized. “Hank.”
Hank grumbled at him, looking mournfully to Julia. “Fine. Salad.”
Julia lifted an eyebrow. “Taco salad?”
Connor turned his scandalized look to her, but Hank gave her a thumbs up.
“That’s why I love you, girl.”
Julia snickered, then to Connor, “What? It has lettuce in it!”
“Yeah!” Hank argued.
Connor, seeing he was outnumbered, just scoffed and limped his way down the hall to the bathroom, rubbing a hand along his torso where the compression bandaging was starting to bother him.
“Your silence says you are down for tacos too,” Julia called after him. “I hear Bert’s has them now.”
“…Fine,” came the resigned response.
Julia did a fist pump and grinned at Hank, initiating an interface call to both Bert’s and the local taco joint for both orders.
In the meantime, Hank began the arduous process of climbing up out of the couch himself. He made it upright, swinging his feet to the floor with a groan and sinking back into the cushions. A bottle of water and aspirin appeared on the coffee table in front of him, and he toasted Julia as he swallowed them.
She was answering the delivery drone at the door when Connor lumbered back down the hall, his LED cycling between blue and yellow.
“Moving awful ginger there,” Hank noted. “Everything healing like it should?”
Connor nodded, though his brows remained pinched as he stepped over to Hank. “Yes, but is this normal?”
He lifted his t-shirt up enough to expose his stomach, where the compression bandages had left indentations in his skin, just a few marks of irritated blue lines where his skin program had thinned under the pressure. Hank squinted a bit, reaching up a hand and gently poking a few of the spots.
“Yeah, that’ll go away in a little bit.”
“It itches,” Connor complained, scratching at a spot just below where his ribcage would be.
Julia turned around, and he hastily lowered his shirt again. He wasn’t quick enough, and Julia got a good eyeful of bare skin as she carried the delivery orders into the living room. Hank kept his expression blank as both androids’ faces tinted blue, and Connor pivoted to quickly start petting on Sumo. Julia carried the bags into the kitchen, sorting out the boxes as the smell of tacos filled the house.
“Everything okay?” she asked, carrying in the taco salad container and offering it to Hank.
“Oh, you are an angel,” Hank crooned, opening the box and breathing in the spicy aroma.
“Yep,” Connor chirped, scratching at his skin through the t-shirt. “My healing program said all internal repairs are complete. There was just an odd side effect that I wasn’t anticipating.”
“Oh, okay…Well, you want this?” she prompted, holding up the container from Bert’s.
Connor paused, then gave a shy nod, sitting himself back in the recliner with a wince. She handed him the container, and he took it, looking at her appreciatively.
“Thank you,” he told her genuinely.
She smiled warmly. “You’re welcome.”
Oh, this hour’s episode was juicy.
Hank used his fork to start mixing around the contents of his lunch. “Seriously? Right in front of my salad?”
They both looked at him quizzically.
“It’s a taco salad,” Connor argued.
“Still…” Hank glowered, then smirked, deciding to stoke the coals a little. “Hey, Jules, how come you never worry about me like that? I’m in pain too, y’know.”
Julia sputtered, eyes widening at him. At the same time, Connor’s scandalized expression made a comeback, aimed at him. Hank just raised his eyebrows, waiting on an answer.
Julia composed herself and then lowered her shoulders, lifting her chin. “Because Connor is prettier than you.”
Hank let out an offended squawk, and Connor’s face turned even bluer, hiding his face in his lunch. Not to be outdone, Hank picked up his phone, opening the video recording of Connor, kicked back in his chair, mouth gaping, snoring loudly.
“I come in second after this? This is what does it for you, Jules? What about this is pretty?”
“Stoppp,” Connor whined, as Julia cackled, despite her own blue cheeks.
Her response was to flash him her palm, where she had pulled up her own recording: Hank, draped across the couch, mouth hanging open, snoring even more obnoxiously than Connor.
Connor looked at her hand, then sat up, victoriously pointing at Hank. “Aha!”
His triumph was cut short with a sharp hiss, touching his sore side as he sank back into the cushions. Julia snickered, patting him on the head as she walked past.
“An ice pack to go with your lunch, sir?” she said in a funny accent.
Now that some of the flack had been sent Hank’s way instead of his own, Connor looked to be in better spirits, and he mimicked the accent back at her.
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
Hank grumbled, but it was all for show as he watched Connor more comfortably settle in for another round of doing absolutely nothing, while their battered bodies and bruised egos continued to heal. He glanced from Connor to Julia in the kitchen, at her giddy little grin as she put together a new ice pack for him.
Well, maybe it wasn’t a round of absolutely nothing…and Hank found himself looking forward to the next episode.