Chapter Text
“We’re renting a ski cabin,” Gavin says during lunch at work. Connor peers at the tablet from over his shoulder. “You wanna split the cost? Hey, Anderson, listen to me. One-week getaway, back before Christmas, and you can bring your mutt.”
Hank hasn’t had a vacation in a long time. Years, at least, since he last traveled for leisure, and that was with Mary at his side and Cole in the back seat. All his days off since have been filled with chores at best and alcohol at worst.
When he found himself with two weeks of free time between gigs at the end of the year, his schedule was filled with errands and sleeping in. The invitation throws a wrench in those plans, but hell, why not? He’s got some money to burn. They make the trip north out of Detroit, rent some ski gear, and check into their cabin.
Sumo plods through the snow outside. There’s just enough to go skiing, and the cabin is built for far more snow—the base of the cabin is over a foot tall, with steps leading up to the front door—but it’s forecast to snow. They may get lucky and have more to work with later this week. There are other cabins down the road, but they have a fair bit of privacy given the distance between them. The ski lodge is only a few miles away. Distantly, a party of five plays in the snow.
“You good?” Hank asks Connor, standing beside him at the gentle crest of the bunny hill outside their place. Gavin’s still plodding slowly up towards them in his skis. “It’s alright to be nervous your first time.”
“You know I’m capable of more than I look. I have no doubts about my own ability to pick up a new skill.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you showing off at the gym. But it’s not the same. Gavin and I can give you some pointers. Come on, let’s go down together.” Hank bumps his elbow against Connor’s.
Tensa Security, their mutual employer, holds all their guards to the same standards of physical fitness. Hank barely managed to whip himself into shape after he finally got axed from the DPD, but Connor makes it look effortless, young and healthy as he is. Gavin, being ex-military, works out the hardest of the bunch, the routine drilled into him by his years of service.
Hank’s not sure about the story behind that one, but he suspects it’s got something to do with the US military bringing on massive amounts of androids, given the way Gavin sneers at them. Or maybe that’s just how the guy is: Brash, bitter, and barking at whatever he can.
“There’s nothing fun about the bunny hill,” Connor says. He looks dubiously at the slope. “At an angle this shallow, the maximum speed is too slow to be thrilling, and without obstacles or a path to follow, it isn’t engaging.”
Gavin reaches them and clinks one of his poles against Connor’s. “You say that now. What about when you slam face-first into a tree?”
“I won’t.”
“Then prove it, dumbass.”
“Very well,” Connor says. He peers down the slope, lips pursed like he’s studying it way too hard, and then pushes off down the side. As predicted, he glides along without issue, barely even wavering.
“That guy has got to chill,” Gavin grumbles, before following behind, crouching low to get a tiny bit more speed.
When Hank reaches the bottom and the other two look at him, he sighs and relents. “Fine. We’ll go up to the next hill, but if either of you falls over, don’t come crying to me.”
They manage to find a diner a few miles away for a late lunch. As much as the three of them tend to jab at each other, there’s one thing they can agree on, and that’s good food. For the most part.
“Twelve hundred calories, Hank,” Connor says once the android waiter leaves with their order. “How much grease do you think is in that thing?”
“Enough to make it taste good. Air fried onion rings do not taste like the real thing.” He skims down the menu to find Connor’s dish. “Your salad is definitely going to be less healthy than it sounds.”
Connor wrinkles his nose. “Maybe that was the wrong way to open a conversation.”
“Not like you can talk about how exciting lettuce is,” Gavin says.
“And we don’t want to hear about the benefits of kale,” Hank adds. “So, who wants to bet on the odds of us getting called back early?”
Gavin groans dramatically. “Don’t you fucking dare. Phillips is gonna hear you all the way from here and find a way to call us in for Christmas. I just wanna get through the new year, man. I don’t want that holiday traffic.”
“Have you ever done a gig over the holidays?” Connor asks. While Hank and Gavin have been working at Tensa for years, Connor’s only been there since May, joining after being laid off from his last company thanks to androids.
Hank nods. “I don’t think it’s likely, but if some club or jewelry store or rich asshole needs bodies last-minute, there’s a chance. Pays more, though, so you’d be one step closer to a mortgage, but you’d miss out on family time.”
The waiter stops by with their drinks—water for Connor, beer for the others—and Connor says, “I’m not close to my family anymore. If I get called in, I won’t mind. But it’s nice to not have a night shift anymore.”
“The sun’s down by like three, nowadays. They’re all night shifts,” Gavin says.
“It’s nice to see the sunlight,” Connor amends. “And to enjoy the great Michigan outdoors before we’ve had our first snow in the city.”
Hank scoffs. “Snow in Detroit is fucking awful. Slush for days. Our only saving grace is they know how to salt the roads.”
“Come on, we’re on vacation. Surely there are better things to think about than a shitty commute,” Connor says.
“Right back at you with the nutrition facts. You know I’m working off those calories, anyway.”
“I’m not judging,” Connor says, raising his hands defensively. “I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
“Your pseudo-vegetarian diet sure makes it come off that way. No offense,” Gavin says. “I just don’t know how the fuck you get your protein.”
“Believe it or not, it’s entirely possible to intake a sufficient amount of protein without chugging whey shakes. Oh, thank you,” Connor says as the waiter sets a basket of bread rolls on the table. Gavin tears into one immediately.
Hank grabs one to nibble on, mouth already watering. He’s already about to get indigestion from the burger, no need to make it worse by shoving rolls in his mouth. Or by thinking too much about the android waiter, bright blue indicators on its outfit almost putting him off his appetite. It’s a shame a place like this hasn’t bothered to hire more humans. Maybe it’s the appeal of a worker who will never tire or get cold, or the marketing to visitors from out of state. At least they’re not staying in the resort nearby, where they’ve got androids ever present to make sure the guests are settled in nicely and to clean the place.
That, and the fact that they’ve got a fireplace that doesn’t have to be shared with twenty other families, makes the cabin a far superior option.
“How old are you, exactly?” Hank asks between bites. The bread has the helpful side effect of keeping him from reaching for the beer too quickly. The last thing he needs is to get himself day drunk.
“Thirty. Why?”
No wonder the kid’s so nice to androids. Not just the waiter here, but any others they’ve encountered in the course of their work. He’s hardly known life without them. “Thirty years in Michigan without going skiing? What kind of parents did you have?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Connor shrugs. “I have everything I need without them.”
“What do you have besides your shitty apartment?” Gavin asks through a mouthful of bread.
“For starters, I have a car that doesn’t belong in an antique museum.”
“I don’t want a computer driving me around, thank you very much,” Hank says.
“I’m pretty sure that thing’s older than me.”
“So am I, and you keep me around.”
“We’re paid to,” Gavin points out.
Hank grins. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re off the clock.”
“We’re friends,” Connor offers. “The three of us. Right?”
Gavin makes a noncommittal sound. “Ehh…”
“Don’t see why not,” Hank says. This vacation should do them all some good, between the fun, fresh air, and quality bonding time. So long as they aren’t completely incompatible housemates, that is. “Sumo likes you both too much for me to ditch you.”
Connor relaxes almost imperceptibly. He opens his mouth to say something, but the waiter returns, and he thanks the android again.
Hank grudgingly has to admit that Gavin’s right: Connor does need to loosen up. Thankfully, this is exactly the right environment to get him to ease up and take a break from the usual stresses.