C-Virus | Leon Kennedy x Connor Dbh

Chapter 3: Dance Moms

"What is dance, lieutenant? Why are they doing that?"

"Probably because they hate themselves," Hank said bluntly. "When I was at my worst, the only thing I wanted to do was... Well, kill myself, but also to dance. Yeah, I really wanted to dance."

"When I think I've understood you..." Connor smiled.

"I even bought the shoes. The shiny kind."

"I didn't take you for a man of fashion."

"Didn't you see my groovy blazers? In my day, I was as trendy as they came. All the ladies dug my style. I was the rizz master on tik tok before it got banned, people loved my thirst traps."

"Lieutenant, what is a thirst trap?"

Hank didn't respond, and Connor knew it was because of some immense, incurable, and debilitating PTSD.

He tried to picture Hank in this "groovy" style. Then dancing, probably to Lady Gaga. Or maybe like those old men at the end of Mama Mia. Yeah, no, enough of that. Ew. Connor could probably dance if he wanted to. It wasn't his original programming, but lately, he's been discovering new things about his capabilities that he hadn't used or even noticed before his deviancy. He would hardly even consider it a deviancy. He didn't change too much, but he felt free-er. Like a weight lifted off his shoulders, especially after he escaped Amanda's control.

"It's late. Did you recharge?"

"On the way here, there was a station by the office."

"Yeah, okay, good. I'm gonna go to sleep. Don't stay up too much."

"I'll clean some."

"You're goddamn loud when you clean, Connor. Don't do that."

"Understood." He stood up. Free time was always a mystery to Connor. When he was conscious, he always had something happening. It felt weird. Not having anything to do. He'd go over the file again, the names, the new information. He'd form a plan of investigation. Anything to keep from being idle. Tap Dancing. Probably not the best use of his time. Ballet. Freestyle? Just... No. Maybe dance was out of the question. Yep, definitely. Perhaps he should just stick to detective work. It was his initial function, after all. Second to following directions.

"Let's go to that diner in the morning."

"I'm unable to eat."

"Yeah, I know, but I thought it might be fun to get out."

Connor knew it was because Hank wanted to get closer to him. And also because his son, Cole, loved Casey's Diner. This didn't bother Conner. Maybe a part of him appreciated it, wanted it, longed for that kind of connection.

"Of course," Connor paused, thinking about something. "Goodnight, Hank."

"Night." Hank grunted as he pulled himself up from the couch. God, he felt like he was getting older. Now it was the achy joints, soon it will be the arthritis, Alzheimer's and... I forgot what came after that.
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Morning came hellishly slow for Connor and quick for the other guy. Connor finished his diagnostic swiftly and was ready and dressed to go out, and by that time it was... Two in the morning. Okay. Run through the investigation, 2:47. Water his plants, 2:58. Fill Sumo's food and water, 3:11. Stare into space, 4:00. Why did it take this much time for people to sleep? Even though he was an android, he refused to go into hibernation mode. He had enough to think about as is, too much ahead of him to just "sleep" precious time away.

He sat at the edge of a bed he didn't even use. His room is tidy, empty, and dull, save for the bare minimum and some green shoots resting on the windowsill. He straightened his tie, checking the time yet again. Was this what drugs were for? To keep from going crazy? A part of Connor wished they would work on androids. Maybe Cyberlife sold some. Checking.... Nope, none. Damn. Probably for the best. Red ice caused enough damage to Hank's life. That's not even taking into account all the other forms of illegal substances. 4:30. It shouldn't be this hard. Maybe he should download a virus, just a small one.

Soon enough (four painful hours later), Hank floundered out of his room, scratching his stubble and buttoning up his plaid shirt. He raised his brows when he saw Connor standing straight by the front door.

"Connor, what the hell are you wearing?"

"I'm confused, lieutenant. Is this inappropriate for an outing?" Connor pulled at his flawless cuffs, straightening his clean dark suit. He wore them often, too often. Like he was ready for a press conference or a meeting with the fucking president, for Christ's sake. It was like he didn't know what a simple pair of sweatpants were.

"No, it's just whatever. Don't you have more casual clothes?"

"Certainly."

"When do you ever wear those?"

"When I'm feeling particularly rebellious. Or if it's tax day."

"I guess I should be glad that you're wearing classy business shit for some bacon and coffee then," Hank forced on his battered sneakers, he should really get them replaced, he could feel the thinning soles. He honestly didn't know why he was surprised by Connor anymore. It was him. And he would act like... well, Connor. Hank pocketed the keys. "Let's uh... Let's go."

They found high-legged chairs at the counter, they had red-leather backing, straight from the 70s. Conor scanned the diner. A group sat by the window, a rather affectionate couple with a third wheel.

"I'll take the Casey Combo, with a coffee, two creams and a sugar." Hank riffled through his pockets, a ten, a five, a handful of quarters and a small fortune of lint. Connor glanced at the couple, they held hands under the table, kissing passionately, with tongue, like tragically reunited lovers, like they were going through puberty again. People really had strange customs. He couldn't help but listen in to their conversation, the guy was rather loud.

"So I was thinking, I'll get him to go out with you sometime next week, trust me he's totally into you. You guys can hang out at my place, don't worry, you'll have it all to yourselves if you know what I mean. Heh."

"Chris, I-." The woman shook her head, glancing at her partner. "I'm attracted to wo-"
"Emotionally wounded guys, exactly. He's emo, and he's got the biggest ass." The guy, apparently Chris, gestured dramatically with his hands.

"You don't understand, I'm saying that I'm a les-"

"Lessening our genetic inferiority. Thanks, I know. The Redfield bloodline must continue with the strongest, most impressive suitors, being Leon, obviously."

People had the weirdest conversations, or maybe it was just them.

"I like pus-"

"Pushing our family to be the best, I know that"

"Claire, I got this." The other woman said, kissing her with such fiery passion. Chris cut them off.

"I get that kissing is a show of friendship and stuff, but if Leon walked in, he would misunderstand, and if that happened, the Redfield bloodline would be doomed, so stop with that girly shit."

Even Connor was flabbergasted by his poor emotional intelligence. Did he really not know what was going on? It wasn't his business, the android had to remind himself.

"Connor, what the hell are you doing?" Hank wiped his mouth, noticing how Connor was literally turned toward the scene of the drama.

"Sorry, Lieutenant."

Connor's LED flashed.

"I'm needed urgently at the station."

"What the hell? What for?"

"A lead, there's a limited amount of time to act on it."

"Okay, go! Go on." Hank murmured, stuffing his face with the breakfast special. He waved Connor off. Something in the old man's tone made Conner feel bad. Hank and he already had trouble spending time together. It didn't seem like there would be reprieve any time soon.

"Goodbye, lieutenant."

A/N: Sorry for the cheesy cliffhanger, hope you enjoyed, sincerely the best authors in history <3