It's Not in My Programming

Five: Defensive.

"i promise it's not that hard," connor groans, pointing up at the diagram hanging on the wall. "my chassis is the layer under my skin, the part that allows me to interface with other androids and my terminals."

"right," hank nods slowly, pretending to understand. "how do androids fuck each other?"

connor sighs and pulls the poster of android anatomy off the wall. "you're disgusting."

the man shrugs and pushes his hair out of his face, looking down to pet sumo. he doesn't even pretend to look like he cares.

with a grunt, connor puts the poster away and instead works on making dinner for his human. a simple salad with chicken, something that hank is able to eat without complaining too much. connor happily bakes some chicken breasts in the oven, moving on to break apart the lettuce and cut up some fresh vegetables to add in. he purposely makes way too much, making sure that hank will have some lunch for the next few days.

"i hate when you do this," hank grumbles. "you really don't need to make so much."

"i'm sorry," connor lies.

with a roll to his eyes, hank gets up and grabs a beer from the fridge. "do you want to watch a movie tonight?"

connor's LED spins yellow for a few short moments, before he turns around completely to face him. "sure, yes. i was hoping to talk to you about something important first."

"what about?" he asks, sitting back down at the table. connor sits across from him, nervously playing with his fingers. he knows the topic isn't as scary as he's making it out to be, but logic doesn't matter when it comes to emotions, apparently.

"well, i've been thinking, i'm kind of tired of going into stasis on the couch every night. it just feels odd for me to be in our living room all the time. i would greatly appreciate having my own living quarters."

hank blinks. "what are you getting at?"

"hank... i was wondering if i could have the extra bedroom as my own?"

the human immediately gets defensive, sitting up straighter. "what the hell do you need a bedroom for? you just sit and stare at the wall all night in fuckin' standby mode, there's no reason that you would need an entire room to yourself."

connor deflates, looking down. "you're right, i'm sorry. i just wanted my own private space, and my chest isn't big enough to hold the belongings that i wish to own." he admits.

"what belongings?" hank is getting angrier by the second, stress levels rising. "you have clothes, you have thirium in the fridge. what next, oil for your metal fucking joints? a little toaster girlfriend? get real, connor."

ouch.

connor frowns, LED flashing red momentarily before settling on yellow. he stands up from his seat, returning over to the food so he could finish cooking. he tried not to let any saline slip out from his eyes, but he couldn't help the few that fell down his cheeks. "you're right, lieutenant. it was a silly idea."

hank huffs, still coming down from his anger induced adrenaline rush. "you're damn right it was a silly idea. if you want "private" space so much then fuck off and get your own apartment, you're lucky i let you live here."

why is hank being so mean?

connor just nods, quickly wiping his face and taking the chicken out of the oven in order to cut it up and add it to the salad. after he finishes it, he dishes it onto a plate and sets it in front of his human.

he knows it's a difficult topic to discuss, but did hank have to react so negatively? did his innocent question warrant such an attack on his character? did hank feel bad at all for saying those things?