Accident Prone - Becoming Human

Mugged

Two weeks suspension without pay was a low price for Connor to pay just to have Hank back home where he belonged after the incident at New Jericho Tower. While the senior detective had forgiven him for the shooting, not that he even blamed Connor to begin with, internal affairs at the precinct ordered that Connor had his entire programming checked by the precinct technician, as well as a 'private' technician hired by Captain Fowler himself, and to remain on suspension until he was cleared for active duty. Everything in Connor's programming passed but that didn't make the deviant detective feel any less guilty or responsible for Hank's previous and current condition.

With just three days left of his suspension before Connor could return to work soon enough, but Hank still had two mandatory weeks off to heal after being shot and spending six days in a coma. While Hank had gotten used to Connor tending to his every need, even if didn't actually need anything, the over abundance of kindness was beginning to wear the senior detective's nerves a little thin.

"Connor, you've cleaned this entire house from top to bottom four times over the past week, took the car down to the garage to get tuned up, raked up the leaves, salted the front walk and driveway and even managed to give Sumo a bath without drowning in the process." Hank shouted from the old couch as he pet Sumo's head, the massive dog was stretched out across the couch and over his lap loving the extra attention. "Sit down before I knock you down!"

"Doctor's orders, Hank." Connor yelled from the kitchen as he pulled a fresh pizza out of the oven. A pizza Connor had made from scratch as a special meal just for Hank to ensure he regained his strength after being comatose. "You can't take your medication on an empty stomach."

"Yeah, I know that. But that doesn't mean you have to cook every damn meal for me."

"No, but... I do find the act of cooking in itself oddly enjoyable." Putting the oven mitts aside while the pizza cooled Connor realized his stress levels hadn't spiked once since Hank woke up and he kept himself busy at the house. "Arguably it's soothing to me."

"How can you enjoy cooking?" The admission felt almost impossible. "You don't eat anything you make."

"Correct, but I do enjoy following recipes and creating new items. I imagine it's like an artist completing a painting or a sculpture." The helpful deviant detective defended his logic as he walked out of the kitchen and handed Hank a bottle of water without being asked. "Also, I can taste. So while I'm cooking I can smell and therefore taste every recipe I complete without actually needing to ingest it."

"Wait..." Hank tentatively accepted the bottle of water as he gave Connor an unsettled look. "So every time we're at a crime scene and you 'analyze' those blood samples you can... Uh..."

"Correct."

"Gross, Connor!" Genuinely disgusted by the information Hank gave Connor a nauseated look. "Why'd they program that into your system?"

"Taste allows me to properly identify foreign chemicals and toxins that I otherwise wouldn't be able to process visually. It has its drawbacks, I admit."

"I bet." Despite his annoyance at Connor being a tad overprotective Hank did have to give Connor credit where credit was due. The kid definitely knew how to cook. "I will admit that you're better in the kitchen than I am. Well, you are now that you know why humans invented something called 'oven mitts' for a reason."

"Yes." A little embarrassed by his first attempts at cooking Connor just noted the incident as another learning experience. "I do regret underestimating the heat of the metal oven rack against my artificial skin."