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Hank rifled through his underwear drawer, grouchy that he couldn't seem to find his favorite pair of boxers. He'd worn them two days ago, in fact—before Connor had done the washing and put everything away. He settled on a less comfortable pair and pulled on his jeans, buttoning his shirt and stepping out into the hallway where Connor was waiting for him.

Connor gave him a soft smile, but his eyes showed concern. "Lieutenant, we received the call over an hour ago. What took you so long?"

Hank stalked to the front door, grabbing his jacket on the way and Connor followed behind him, ever the puppy dog at his feet. "I couldn't find my best pair of boxers. The grey ones with the white stripes. You did the laundry. Have you seen them?"

"They were not in any of the loads of laundry I've completed in the last week," Connor replied as they walked across the lawn to Hank's car, but he looked away from Hank as he said it. Hank shot him a sideways glance. His detective instincts always told him when Connor was not being entirely honest, but why the hell would he lie about something as stupid as this?

"If you ruined 'em, Connor, just come clean and tell me now. You know I fuckin' hate it when you lie to me." Hank climbed into the driver's seat, slamming the door a little harder than he needed to. He'd been happy to open up his home to Connor in the wake of the android revolution, but the android was downright cryptic at times and it infuriated Hank enough that he wondered if he'd jumped the gun on living together.

"I must have misplaced them, Hank. I will look for them when we get home," Connor replied. Hank sighed, frustrated that Connor was doubling down on the lie instead of just confessing to whatever it was he'd done. It wasn't even the damn underwear that was annoying him, now, but the web of deceit Connor had chosen to weave around something so insignificant. If he was willing to look Hank in the eye and spew bullshit about a piece of clothing, what else was he lying about?

If this was how it was going to be, perhaps he should ask Connor to get a place of his own. He fell silent and concentrated on driving to the scene of the latest murder, a heavy feeling of annoyance and regret settling in his stomach.

He'd stopped drinking so much of late, but now he really wanted a beer. Or maybe something stronger, depending on how the rest of this fucking day went.

***

The murder scene was a mess, and the wedgie Hank had to pick out of his ass every time he squatted down to look at a piece of evidence put him in a seriously sour mood before they'd even spent thirty minutes at the scene.

"It appears that the perpetrator fled some time ago," Connor observed.

"No fuckin' shit," snapped Hank. "Humans don't hang around like deviants at the scene of the crime trying to get caught."

"I sincerely doubt Carlos Ortiz's android wanted to be caught, Hank."

"Coulda fooled me." Hank set down a broken coffee cup and adjusted his underwear for the last time. "We're done here. Whoever our killer was, he's long gone. We're not gonna make any more progress tonight." He stepped out onto the porch, craving that beer more than ever. Connor wasn't going to approve, but then he wasn't exactly thrilled about Connor lying to him, either. He didn't wait for the android and stalked across the snow to his car, wiping the accumulated snowfall off the windshield with the sleeve of his coat before getting in and starting the engine. Connor followed and opened the passenger side door, buckling up and staring straight ahead as Hank glanced sideways at him. Hank knew the blank look on Connor's face. It was Connor's way of looking chastised when he knew he was in the doghouse.

Hank sighed, his breath turning to vapor in the frigid air. "I don't even care about the fuckin' underpants, Connor. You lied to me. You looked me straight in the eye and you spun me a line. Over somethin' so fucking simple, too! I thought you respected me more than that."

"I'm sorry, Hank." Connor looked down at his hands.

"Just tell me the truth, Connor. How fuckin' bad could it be? They tore in the wash? Sumo used them as a dog toy? I'm not gonna be angry. I just want the truth."

"I can't tell you." Connor looked out of the window and Hank blinked in disbelief. How had a simple question about underpants turned into a full-blown interrogation?

"I think you need to move out." Hank swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to constrict his breathing as he said it, his voice tighter than usual as he considered going back to a life without Connor by his side. Despite his sometimes frustrating habits, he'd never wanted it to come to this. He liked having the android in his life. Connor had brought life back to his house and made it a home again, despite his occasionally trying habits.

"I understand. It might be for the best." Connor offered no resistance at all, and Hank wondered if he'd lied on purpose, hoping for this outcome. The rejection stung and he couldn't help but think he'd done something wrong to find himself alone again.

They spent the rest of the trip home in silence. Connor got out of the car first and went inside the house, packing his few possessions into a plastic carrier bag. He looked pathetic, and Hank realized the android was willing to become homeless rather than reveal the truth.

"Connor, for fuck's sake, please." Hank put his hand on Connor's shoulder and turned him around. He stared into Connor's deep brown eyes, searching for answers that eluded him. "I don't want you to go."

"I can't tell you the truth, Lieutenant. I've betrayed your trust. I don't want to leave, but I can't stay."

"What could be so terrible that you can't tell me, Connor? What thing could be so awful that you can't even say it?"

Connor bowed his head to look at the floor. Hank reached out and touched his chin, lifting it to look into his eyes. Connor pulled away, a hurt look on his face. He opened the door, and Hank could see a taxi waiting by the curb.

If Connor walked away now, they'd never be friends again. Hank reached forward and grabbed Connor's wrist. "Connor, wait!"

"I have to go, Hank. I'm sorry. I never wanted to lie to you, but I can't stand the thought of you knowing—"

"Knowing what?" Hank asked. "I don't care what it is, Connor. I don't give a shit if you set the damn things on fire. I just don't want to lose our friendship over this. Is the trust we've built really worth losing over a pair of fucking boxers?"

Connor closed his eyes. "Hank, I'm wearing your underpants."

Silence. Even Sumo seemed to stop breathing, and Hank was sure he could have heard a pin drop. His mouth fell open in shock as he absorbed the truth Connor had finally told him, his brain running at a mile a minute. Unfortunately, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind before thinking.

"Aren't they a little big on you?"

Connor actually smiled, a wan little thing that melted Hank's heart. Hank felt heat rising to his cheeks as he realized what he'd done in those boxers the last time he'd worn them… he'd jerked off and wiped his cum on them, tossing them on the floor without even realizing Connor was going to clean up after him. Connor must have found them, scanned them, and—

"You little creep." Hank seized Connor by the shoulders, closing the front door with his foot and pinning Connor up against the back of it. Connor dropped the plastic bag and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. Hank leaned in, claiming the android's lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. Connor yielded, opening his mouth to allow Hank access and kissing back with great enthusiasm.

Hank pulled away, gasping for breath. He couldn't help but grin, warmth spreading through his body at the same time as blood rushed to his groin. He leaned in to whisper into Connor's ear. "Are you wearing them now?"

"Yes," Connor said, his eyes as wide as two saucers. He was incredibly cute like this, guilt written all over his face like he still expected Hank to be disgusted. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Hank reached for Connor's belt, fumbling with the buckle. He unzipped Connor's jeans and pushed them down to reveal his own boxers, bunched up around Connor's waist. They looked absurd, hanging on the android's small waist and practically non-existent ass. Hank reached for the erection prominent in the front, squeezing it through the fabric and enjoying Connor's soft moans.

"Did it turn you on, knowing I came all over these?" Hank's voice was raspy and low, almost threatening as he tried to elicit a full confession.

"Yes," Connor gasped.

"Bet you were hard all night just thinking about my dick bein' where yours is now."

Connor whimpered. "Hank, please—"

Hank reached inside the boxers and grabbed Connor's cock, wrapping his hand around it and jerking Connor off. Connor threw his head back against the door, revealing his throat, and Hank kissed it, feeling the vibrations of Connor's voice box against his lips as Connor cried out and came all over his hand. Hank wiped his hand on the shorts Connor was still wearing. His own dick wanted attention, but he didn't want to push things too far. His head was still spinning from the fact that he'd just given Connor a handjob in his own living room.

Connor reached forward and cupped the bulge in Hank's jeans, and the word 'no' disappeared from his vocabulary. He hissed into Connor's touch, helping the android along by taking off his belt and unzipping his fly. Connor reached into his boxers and gripped his thick length, running an experimental hand over it.

"You're so big," Connor remarked, and Hank couldn't help the stupid, proud grin that crossed his face as his ego swelled. His cock leaked, so desperate for anything Connor wanted to give him. He couldn't believe that this pretty android wanted to touch him. He fought against closing his eyes as Connor pressed him against the door and started to stroke his cock, wanting to drink in the hungry gaze Connor was giving him and the fact the android's spent cock was already getting hard again. There was something predatory in that look, and Hank couldn't help but feel like he'd been prey all along, hunted by a professional who knew his kinks and had exploited every one of them to get what he wanted.

"I want you to fuck me, Hank," Connor whispered into his ear. "I've seen the kind of porn you look at. Humans railing androids on furniture, in cars, in public. I've preconstructed scenes of you doing that to me. It's all I can think about."

"Holy shit," Hank gasped. "You nasty little android." Part of him wanted to tell Connor to stop so he could take Connor to the bedroom and fulfill his fantasies, but if Connor was telling the truth, they'd have time for all that and more. He reached out and grabbed Connor's cock, still wet with his own semen, and pumped it in time with Connor's strokes until they were both grunting. Hank devoured Connor's mouth, moaning into him as he came hard into Connor's hand. Connor followed right after, spurting all over his thigh as he collapsed into Hank's chest. Hank wrapped his arms around Connor to support him, wondering if androids actually got weak at the knees.

Hank heard the taxi pull away, abandoning its fare after waiting for so long. He smiled, resting his forehead against Connor's. A contented warmth spread through him and settled in his belly as he realized Connor wasn't leaving.

"See? Was it really so bad to tell me the truth?" Hank asked.

"I'll never lie to you again, Hank." Connor spoke with such sincerity that Hank's heart softened, and he pulled Connor into his arms, pressing a kiss into the android's hair. They had a lot to talk about, after they cleaned up.

"I think you've got some laundry to do," Hank teased. "I want those boxers clean and back in my underwear drawer by tomorrow."

"As you wish," Connor remarked. "The fabric is quite soft. I can see why this is your favorite pair. However, I doubt you'll have much time to wear them while we're at home."

Hank chuckled. "I'll be the judge of that."