enderfics

[enderfics]

Kissing Spider-Man was incredible. Wade had done it a thousand times by now. They would meet in the late hours of the night and push each other against the wall of a dark alley. Frantically, Wade would pull Spider-Man’s mask to his nose and lean in. Kissing Spider-Man had become his favourite part of the night. 

He was familiar with it now. 

Deadpool could describe exactly how Spider-Man held onto his hips as their lips danced. He could tell you all about the little sigh Webs did when they broke for air and he could tell you every detail about the hero’s shameful walk out of the alley. 

He was so familiar with kissing Spider-Man. 

So, when Wade didn’t feel the hero’s hand on his hips, gently squeezing, he only felt slightly uneasy. Granted, Wade felt worse when the hero stood slack, his weight pushed against the wall instead of onto Wade. Something was wrong. 

Gently, he leaned away from the hero, creating a space between them and coughed, awkwardly. Spider-Man fidgeted with his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Spider-Man’s voice was quiet. He reached out to pull the merc closer but huffed angrily when Wade stood firmly away. If Deadpool wasn’t so concerned, he would have laughed. Sighing instead, he asked, “What’s wrong with you?” Wade could only see half of the arachnid’s face but watched as a large frown formed. Okay, so something major was wrong. 

“Deadpool…” Spider-Man’s voice was breathless and embarrassed. Whatever was about to be said, was serious. Wade had the sudden urge to run and flee, whicht was overwhelming. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned Spider-Man like this. Instead Wade convinced his stupid mind to shut up and focus on the trembling man in front of him. Why the fuck was Webs trembling?

“Are you cold?”

“What?” Spider-Man chuckled, shaking his head no. Wade quickly pointed out how much the spider was shivering and frowned when after realising it was a product of the man’s ever-unforgiving anxiety. 

Wade repeated the question and the hero’s mask wrinkled as he scrunched his face. Spider-Man reached forward, grasping Wade’s hand gently. He sighed, heavily, like he was preparing himself to say something awful. 

He was. 

“Deadpool…” Spider-Man’s voice was just as quiet as before “What are we?”

This had shocked the merc. What were they? Something, that was for sure, but no label felt like it fit them. Webs sat with him whilst his body regenerated and squeezed Wade’s hand as a reminder that everything would be okay. Wade had sat on countless rooftops watching Spider-Man from a distance, ready to jump in and save him as soon as it was needed. And of course, they kissed. They had made out so, so much. And Wade had figured that they were something. He was just never one for labels. 

Spider-Man was staring up at him. His white lenses reflected the moonlight as he gazed up towards Wade. Shit. Webs wanted to label this. Shit. Wade chuckled, nervously, and averted his eyes. “What are we?” Spider-Man repeated his question, voice firmer this time. 

When Deadpool hadn’t responded, the smaller man continued, “Because someone asked me out today. And I rejected them.” His voice was slowly turning bitter and angry. “I feel like I should be loyal to you, that I can’t be casual with other people because of you,” He took a sharp inhale, “And it sucks, Deadpool. Because I don’t know what we are.” 

“I don’t do labels Webs,” 

“So, are you rejecting me?” 

Instead of answering, Wade leant down and caught Spider-Man’s lips in a gentle kiss. He wanted to scream that, no he wasn’t rejecting the man. Labels were just scary and Wade didn’t want to screw this up. He wanted to shout about how perfect their dynamic was without the existence of labels and he hoped the kiss portrayed that. 

When they broke apart, Webs’s expression hadn’t changed. He repeated his question, again. 

“Do you want us to be a thing?” His voice was still sour.

“Yes.”

“Ask me out.”

Wade whined. He had only ever seen half of the other man’s face and didn’t even know the hero’s name. Their relationship was so private and it thrived off of the lack of intimacy. They didn’t need to know about each other's personal lives. The mystery was important. It was part of their banter. Plus, Wade didn’t think he wouldn't be a good match for the hero; Their morals were too different and their relationship would have too many conflicts. 

But the idea of seeing Spider-Man with someone else hurt. It struck Wade right in the heart and made it difficult to breathe. Suddenly, he felt selfish and wanted to keep Webs for himself. Wade wanted to hide Spider-Man’s soft laugh and heavy sighs away from the world. They were his and his only. 

“Deadpo-“

“Wade.” His chest felt tight. “If we’re going to be exclusive, we should at least know each other's names.” Wade took a large step away from the hero and stuck out a gloved hand. “Wade.” He repeated, confidence seeping into his voice. Spider-Man laughed, his classic laugh which caused Wade to smile. 

“Are we going to be exclusive?” The question was easy to answer. The idea of webs being with someone else - kissing someone else - made him want to scream. So Wade nodded. Yes.

Slowly, Spider-Man shook his hand. 

“Peter. Parker.” 

Wade leaned in again and kissed Peter. This felt right. This felt so right. The kiss was softer this time, gentle and romantic. It was new. This time, Peter broke the kiss by pushing his weight back into the wall.  “Can you ask me out now, Wade?”

[enderfics]

Peter, lying in bed, his leg in a cast after he fucked up a superhero landing.

Wade, who is sat criss-cross at the end of the bed doodling pink hearts onto Peter’s cast and badly singing love songs.

[enderfics]

The Red String

At 16, Peter cried because the string on his finger didn’t connect with his girlfriends. He cried harder when she broke up with him for being a “liar” who was preventing her from being with her soulmate. He hated the string after that and tried to ignore it. That was difficult though when it was right there. So instead, he tried to avoid looking at his hands, usually hiding them in his sleeves or under the table. It never worked, of course.

At 19, Peter cried because his string suddenly broke. He could see the end of it piled up at his feet, and bawled as he prayed it was just a hallucination. The string began to fade, slowly vanishing into nothing. He had read horror stories of this happening - of people losing their strings - and sobbed harder when he remembered why. He didn’t have a soulmate (anymore). That night, he cried himself to sleep.

When he woke up and saw the red thread tied on his pinkie, Peter didn’t cry. Instead, he quickly ran to the bathroom and hurled last night's dinner into the toilet. What the fuck. He tried to continue with life (focus on school, focus on spiderman duties, focus on paying the rent). He tried to ignore the string that regularly disappeared (and re-appear hours later.)

Whoever his soulmate was, he hated them. He despised them for putting him through this because it wasn’t fair. He tried harder to ignore the string.

Peter tried to ignore how he could see the string even when he was in his suit. Even as spiderman, he couldn’t escape the torment that was his soulmate. The string always felt loose when on patrol, like it wasn't pulled as tight. Something about that made Spider-Man feel sick because something deep inside him knew what that meant. But, it was easy to be Spider-Man. There were so many things to distract him from his soulmate and it was easy to indulge in the excitement of being a hero.

Part of the job was to know the people terrorising New York. It made it easier when Peter eventually fought them. Knowing the bad guys meant he had time to do his research, to find their weakness and use it against them. After all, he was a scientist. Naturally, he had heard of Deadpool. The mercenary was infamous. He was well-known for doing anything for money. It was unethical as fuck and Peter had seen the leftovers of DP’s activities. He remembered the time he had stumbled into a warehouse only to see it littered with dead bodies. Peter had yet to actually meet the immoral vigilante.

Patrol had been particularly quiet that night. For once, the city was asleep. He sat on top of a roof, as he watched the streets. As he swung his legs, and the city remained quiet, he decided he could end his shift early tonight. Peter would go home and catch up on some sleep or finally finish his research paper. He stood up and stretched, closing his eyes to avoid watching the string lift with his arms.

As he turned around, Peter heard a low buzz in his ears. Not now, he prayed. It had been an easy night and he didn't need a criminal to ruin that. The buzzing got louder, shrieking and ringing in his ears. Peter had very little time to react when a tall figure abruptly appeared in front of him. He stumbled back, trying to create space and calm his very overreactive nerves. The person hadn’t moved yet and instead stood staring at the spider. He could see their chest rise and fall with each breath they took.

“It's you.” They finally spoke, voice low and hoarse.

Peter figured they were referring to his suit - his persona - and he finally looked at the man in front of him. White pupils glared at Peter and red leather laid tightly against their body. He took notice of the number of pouches on the man's utility belt and the absurd amount of weapons they carried.

So this was Deadpool.

“I can’t believe it’s you” DP laughed softly. Peter was confused. Was this criminal really that excited to see him? To see Spider-Man?

He took a shaky breath as Deadpool slowly stepped forward. His spidey sense was still on full alert but Peter was thankful that Deadpool hadn’t made any dangerous moves (yet). He was still trying to calm himself down and didn’t feel like fighting tonight.

“You’re Deadpool?” It was a stupid question that Peter knew the answer to.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.” The guy's voice was smooth and reeked of cockiness, which caused Peter to wonder if that was why people didn’t like him.

(It was more likely that people didn’t like DP because of his career choices, but Peter decided to ignore that)

They continued to talk and continued to ramble. About what? Peter didn’t know. He was struggling to pay attention with the ringing still rampant in his ears, but he did pay attention to how the merc spoke with his hands, dramatically throwing their arms in the air as he babbled about Spider-Man being “ you”. Surely, no one was this excited about meeting the superhero.

When Peter was able to focus on the man's words, he felt uneasy.

“And it's you! And I never thought I’d meet you but here we are! God this is so exciting. I mean it sucks that you’re a do-gooder and I’m…not? But still!”

“What are you talking about?” Peter interrupted quickly, hoping to stop the seemingly never-ending rant.

“You. I’m talking about you.”

This confused Peter more and he tried to ignore the pit forming in his stomach. He wanted to ask why and beg Deadpool for an answer. He didn’t though, in fear of the direction this conversation would take. Peter took a sharp inhale, trying to ignore how his breath hitched. Now, Deadpool stood still, proudly, with his arms resting at his side. It seemed his rant was over and he was looking at the web-slinger like he expected a response.

“So?”

“...Sorry?”

Deadpool laughed at the uncertainty in the arachnid’s voice and once again, inched closer. Now, there was barely any space between the two and Peter cringed at the intensity of the ringing. This was too much to handle.

He was normally thankful for his heightened senses, but right now they made Peter want to scream. He suddenly became hyper-aware of the string he hated so much. It felt so light, like there was no resistance at all. Like it wasn’t being pulled away from him and towards the direction of his soulmate. Peter had gotten so good at ignoring it. He had become a pro at hating the string and avoiding it.

He wanted to throw up. Peter understood what the merc meant now.

It was him.

Peter took a breath. A deep and heavy inhale to try and slow his racing thoughts. He felt Deadpool’s hand land on his arm and almost sobbed when he heard the man ask if he was okay. He tried to nod but everything was too overwhelming and he couldn’t convince his brain to do the motion. He didn’t know when, but Peter had eventually sat down on the edge of the roof, resting his head in his hands.

He hated his soulmate. Peter was embarrassed over how he cried every time the string dissolved. He hated the constant anger he felt towards his soulmate.

Peter Parker hated his soulmate.

Now, his soulmate was crouched an inch away from him, soothingly running their hands over his knee. And he wanted to hate them, wanted to push the merc away and scream about how unfair this was. But god, it felt surprisingly nice to finally have someone.

At 21, Peter cried because he finally saw the other end of his red string (and it hadn’t dissolved into nothing). He finally saw who it connected to and he bawled harder when he remembered how he was supposed to hate them. Peter wanted to ignore how his string - how Deadpool’s string - lay lax at his feet, bundled up into a messy pile. But he couldn’t.

Peter Parker had found his soulmate, and for the first time since he was 16, he didn’t hate them.

[enderfics]

safe.

// pre-established relationships. They're yet to be romantic or official but they have definitely been hardcore flirting before this.

Wade crawled through the little window and into the apartment. He had mastered the art of being quiet but cringed at the sound of the window slamming shut. Spinning around, he was glad to see the noise hadn’t disturbed the peace.

He was also glad to see Peter under a bundle of blankets on the sofa. The spider was safe. He had survived another night.

Wade was ready to leave now. He had come to check that the spider was good - safe - and now that was done, he could leave. But looking around the apartment, Wade discovered a new reason to stick around.

He definitely wasn't looking for an excuse to be with Peter Parker.

Silently, he tiptoed around picking up dirty dishes and cleaning the clutter. Every now and again, he looked over his shoulder to check that Peter was still asleep. The man snored gently and looked so comfortable. So Wade continued to potter, continued to clean and continued to check that Webs wasn’t awake.

He stepped back, hands placed on hips, to admire his work. Someone get this man a fucking maid dress because he’d done a great job. Webs was still, thankfully, asleep and Wade decided he’d definitely overstayed his welcome.

As he crept back to the window, the floor below him creaked. A loud, echoey creak that shook the entire flat. Fuck. His head whipped around to where Peter sat up bolt right. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes scanned the living room until they landed on Wade.

“What are you doing in my apartment?!”

Wade took notice of how hot Peter’s just-woke-up voice was and promised he’d break in once more to hear it again. Peter repeated his question, tone firm. Wade was suddenly glad that he came straight after patrol and that his mask covered his very flushed face.

“Hello to you too, sweetcakes.”

“Shut up. What are you doing here?”

Wade was NOT about to admit that tonight's job had been particularly gruesome and made him feel a weird type of anxious. He wasn’t about to admit that the anxiety had made him stress about the web slinger's safety, and to shut up the little voice in his head, he had to check that Peter was alive and okay.

“Deadpool?” Peter’s voice was sounding more normal - more awake- and Wade wanted to cry because he hadn’t heard it enough. He also wanted to cry because Peter didn’t say his real name.

To be fair, the arachnid didn’t know his name. He in fact didn’t know anything about the merc. Whilst wade had excellent stalking skills and regularly ignored boundaries, Spiderman was more respectful. And every time he had asked Wade about his identity, he had been quickly shut down. Wade liked his privacy, sue him.

“Why is my apartment clean?” Peter's voice was laced with confusion and he squinted at the man leaning on his window sill.

“I cleaned it, you’re welcome.”

“I know you didn’t break into my apartment to clean it. Why are you here?”

“Peter,” (Peter's face scrunched up - he hated how Wade said his name so confidently.) “Peter, maybe that's exactly why I broke into your house. I mean would it really surprise you?”

No, it wouldn’t. Wade knew it wouldn’t because that was exactly the type of thing he’d do. But Peter hadn’t broken eye contact and if he stared any longer, Wade would crumble and be violently honest. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

The only way to avoid that was by leaving. He turned back to the window and began to open it. Wade began to crumble when he felt arms gently wrap around his waist. Fuccck. He couldn’t do this. He was too weak to handle this.

“Peter…” Wade barely recognised his own voice, it was so quiet “Vulnerability isn’t really my thing.” He tried to pry the arms off him but they only squeezed tighter. He wanted to give in and let Webs hold him whilst he spoke about his night. Wade squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the strength to leave.

“Why are you in my apartment, Deadpool?” Peter’s voice was right in his ear and he could feel the warm breath on his neck.

“Wade.” Fuck.

Peter ran his hands over Wade’s waist and gently squeezed his hips.

“Why are you in my apartment, Wade?”

He let out a loud huff and leaned into Peter’s touch. Okay. He’d crumble.

Gently, Wade wiggled out of the hold and took Peter's hand. He led them to the sofa, where they sat. Wade confessed everything. He spoke about how shit his night was: the job had been rough, the victim was being difficult and before he planted a bullet in their head they had asked a favour.

After you kill me, please tell my partner I love her. I haven’t told her that enough.

Deadpool shot before the man could talk any longer.

Wade admitted that the job made him feel so, so anxious after. He admitted that the anxiety had made him stressed about Parker’s safety, and professed he had to check that Peter was alive and okay. He let out a shaky breath after he finished.

Hesitantly, Peter wrapped his arms around the merc embracing him in a tight hug. He was whispering into Wade's ear.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m safe.”

↓↓↓

follow my twitter :CatJam:

https://twitter.com/endermars_

[enderfics]

Empathy

“Shoot her.” Kamski said, his voice surprisingly calm considering the circumstances. “Shoot her and I will answer your questions, Connor.” He slipped a heavy pistol into Connor's hand and stepped back, patiently waiting for whatever chaos would occur. 

The girl - android. She was an android. The android was on her knees in front of Connor, looking up at him. He knew that she wouldn’t feel pain. He understood that. But this felt wrong. She hadn't done anything. She didn’t deserve to be shot. 

“Alright, I think we’re done here.” Hank’s voice came from his right. It was firm, confident. He moved closer to Connor and put his hand on his back, pushing slightly to encourage Connor to move. 

He didn't. He couldn’t. It was like he was frozen to the spot. Instead, Connor stood still. Hank removed his hand before quietly mumbling “Connor, I swear to god. Don’t shoot.” 

The girl - android - was still on her knees. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was pretty, he thought. Strands of soft blonde hair spilled onto her face. Her eyes were big, doe-y. They stared up at him. God, the way she looked at him made him feel weak. He hadn’t noticed but Kamski was close, so close that his hand was on Connor's shoulder. He was speaking but Connor only managed to catch the last of his sentence. 

“She’s just a machine, Connor. Think of how beneficial it'll be to your investigation!” He heard Hank groan at this, and when he looked over, Connor saw him shaking his head. She was just a machine. It would be beneficial. That's what he would tell himself.

Connor still had the gun in his hand. It was pointed at the android's head, and he noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. 

He imagined what it’d feel like. Being shot. It would have to hurt. Feeling a bullet lodged into your head had to be uncomfortable. Connor knew that androids shut down almost instantly once their biocomponents were severely damaged, but that wasn’t the point. The point was she didn’t deserve to be shot. 

It was like the world had gone still. He saw Kamski talking to him, but he couldn’t process the words. The room around him felt like it was spinning and the only thing in focus was the android. The android was called Chloe, he recalled. She had a name. She was probably scared right now, looking into the barrel of his pistol. If she could even feel scared.

He imagined what she would look like once shot. Her eyes would be closed (hopefully). If they were open, he imagined they’d be dull and lifeless. Blue blood would drip down her head, staining her pretty skin. She’d probably fall forward. 

He felt his throat tighten. 

God. He had shot androids before, this wasn’t something new to him. He couldn’t understand why this felt so different. It was a test. He understood that. Maybe that’s what was different? The other androids had been wrongdoers. They had put humans in harm's way, and so they deserved to be shot. They deserved to be shut down. But her? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She had been polite to him and Hank when they first entered. She had smiled at him when he introduced herself. She was a test. A test of his willingness. 

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, he handed the gun back to Kamski. Kamski had a smirk on his face. “Fascinating,” he said quietly “The deviant hunter is itself a deviant.”

Silently, Connor walked out of the building. 

She was a test and he had failed. 

. . . . . ◟੭

Connor was standing outside now. His back was pressed against the smooth wall and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He took sharp inhales, begging his biocomponents to work properly. His vision was blurry again and, slowly, he slid down the wall until he was sat on the snowy floor. Without realising, he had bought his knees up to his chest, resting his head upon them. Everything felt heavy all of sudden. His head felt too heavy for his shoulders. 

Connor felt someone's hand on him and when he looked up, he struggled to recognise who it was. They crouched down in front of him, holding his hands in their own. They were talking. What were they saying? God he wished he could focus on their words. Slowly, he realised that it was Hank. 

“Connor? Connor? What's going on, talk to me” 

He couldn’t speak. He felt like his voice box was broken and he couldn’t speak. Hank gently grabbed onto his arms and pulled him up. He struggled to stand but with Hank's support, he managed to make it to the lieutenant’s beat-up car. Both clambered inside and sat quietly.

Connor was breathing heavily and was shaking. He was shaking so much. 

“Hank” he finally spoke, voice weak, “Hank.. why couldn’t I shoot?”

Hank thought for a minute, clearly deciding the best approach. “You put yourself in her shoes… You showed empathy, Connor.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

“No! No I didn't, Hank!” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else. “I didn’t show empathy. I can’t show empathy, Hank.”

“..Then why didn’t you shoot, Connor?”

He looked at Hank and shook his head. He couldn’t answer that. Connor couldn’t explain that he didn’t think that the android - that the girl - deserved to be shot. He couldn’t describe how he imagined the feeling of being shot. It wasn’t fair for her to feel that, to experience that. She didn’t deserve to be shut down to progress an investigation in which she had no involvement. 

She didn’t deserve to die. 

It wasn’t empathy. He didn’t put himself in her shoes. He didn’t. 

“I just couldn’t hank!” He spoke suddenly, “I just couldn’t, ok? She was looking at me, Hank. At me. And I couldn’t shoot.” Connor recognised how vicious his voice sounded. It wasn’t as weak and small as it was a few minutes ago. Instead, it was aggressive. Angry. He was angry. 

Next to him, Hank remained practically silent. He hadn’t started the car and they were still sitting outside Kamski’s building. This, too, made Connor angry; Why were they still here? He wanted to go back to the police station. He wanted to go anywhere that wasn’t here. 

Hank was looking at Connor but looked visibly uncomfortable. Slowly, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Conn-”

“Hank.”

“Hank. I'm an android. I can’t show empathy. It’s not in my code. I’m physically incapable of doing it.” It was a desperate attempt to prevent any further conversations. He didn’t want to have to listen to Hank accuse him of being emotional. 

Or of being a deviant. 

He asked Hank if they could drive back to the station and leave this place. The air was thick and tense, but slowly, Hank nodded and started the car. As they drove, Connor stared out the window; Kamski’s place was far out of town. Unnecessarily far. It made him feel funny. 

Kamski was wrong about him. So was Hank. 

He wasn’t a deviant. He didn’t show empathy. 

. . . . . ◟੭

It had been exactly a week since visiting Kamski. It had probably been the worst week Connor had ever experienced. Once they had got back to the station, he immediately felt exhausted and wanted to sit in his charging station for as long as he could. However, he and Hank were almost instantly sent out to investigate another deviant. He completely messed up that case, and the deviant easily managed to out run him. God. Since the Kamski visit, he had been so tired. So tired. He struggled to focus on basic things, let alone the ever increasing number of deviant cases. 

Currently, Connor was sitting at his desk. There was a mess of paperwork and case files which surrounded him. He knew that the answer was here. He knew that the cause of deviancy was hidden somewhere in this pile of information.

 If he could just focus. 

If he could just focus and find the solution, then everything would be better. 

Slowly, he sat back in his office chair and ran his hands through his hair. This was something he noticed the humans did when they were stressed. It was meant to be soothing, and he almost understood the relaxing nature behind the motion. He noticed how soft his hair was - why did cyberlife make androids so human-like? 

Connor sighed, quietly. A particular file had caught his attention and he picked it up to examine it further. The deviant had ran away from its owner's home and tried to blend in with humans. It had crossed state lines with fake IDs and attempted to start a new life. It was a pretty tame case, but the thing that caught Connors attention was the androids design. It was a young looking android, with soft pale skin and big eyes. Its hair was short and blonde. The android was designed to be a simple domestic model who would help childcare, so its appearance was important. It had to look friendly. Something felt wrong though, and Connor couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in his chest. 

Fuck.

He slowly realised how much the android looked like Kamski’s personal androids. How much the android looked like Chloe. Perhaps it was just the mixture of its hair and gentle features, but he suddenly struggled to distinguish between the two. Connor suddenly felt sick. Once again, his vision became blurry, a sensation he was far too familiar with nowadays. He tried to focus on something - anything - but his attempts were completely unsuccessful. 

Connor was still at his desk, in the busy, far too crowded police station. Abruptly, he stood up and mindlessly walked to somewhere more private. He couldn’t do this in front of the officers. Surely, they would notice and report him to cyberlife.  He had ended up in a quiet corridor at the back of the station. This would have to do. 

Connor noticed how weak he felt. His legs felt like they were about to crumble under his weight. Luckily, the hallway was lined with benches and he quickly stumbled over to one and sat down. He couldn’t see: everything was blurry and spinning. Slowly, he hunched forward and rested his head in his hands. Connor needed to calm down, and his first attempt at that was to squeeze his eyes shut and try to ignore his thoughts. It was unsuccessful. 

He was cyberlifes best model. A true technological achievement. Connors was designed to be practical and mechanical. He was designed to solve criminal cases and be a million times better than humans. He couldn’t emote and that made him so much more efficient than anyone else. He had dealt with gruesome murders and petty thefts, all of which had no impact on him. Nothing had affected him in any way at all. Nothing until Kamski and his stupid test. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting in the corridor for, time felt like it had frozen, but he eventually heard footsteps. They sounded like they were about to turn the corner and see the mess he was. Connor prayed that it was Hank. The lieutenant had witnessed this before. What even was this? Some kind of panic attack? A breakdown? A minor error in his code causing mass malfunctions? It was probably all of the above. Either way, Hank had dealt with this before and could probably handle it again.  His eyes were still squeezed shut. 

The footprints suddenly stopped in front of him and Connor hesitantly opened his eyes. His vision cleared slightly and he felt sick as soon as it did. The person lurked over him, their brows furrowed in confusion. They made eye contact with Connor and he felt like he wanted to sob. He’d never felt like this before. 

Connor had prayed - wished - that Hank would be standing there, in front of him. 

He didn’t expect to see Detective Gavin fucking Reed.

. . . . . ◟੭

“Connor?” Gavin’s voice was quiet and reeked of confusion. It echoed around his head and made him feel nauseous. If it had been someone else, then Connor would probably be fine. He would be able to convince the person that he was having a simple software malfunction and that it was nothing serious as a quick recharge would fix it. 

But Gavin Reed wasn’t someone else. He was one of the smartest detectives Connor had ever seen. Reed was observant and intelligent and was not to be easily fooled. 

That, of course, didn’t stop Connor from trying. 

Slowly, the android stood. He ignored the tears running down his cheeks and the shake in his legs and instead focused on the man in front of him. He cleared his throat and spoke “Detective Reed. I’m sorry you had to see me like this, it seems as if I’m having a slight internal malfunction” Connor’s voice was raspy but he managed to continue “This is nothing to worry about! In fact, I was just about to go and recharge and make a self-report to CyberLife.” He began to walk away. 

“I thought you were supposed to be CyberLife’s most advanced model?”

Connor stopped in his tracks, frozen. The detective spoke so smoothly. His voice was consistent and calm and it shook Connor to his core. He felt like if he took another step, he’d crumble onto the floor. 

He was CyberLife’s most advanced model. 

Gavin was back in front of him now. He hadn’t even noticed until he saw the detective’s cocky smile. “CyberLife’s most fancy piece of plastic was having a complete breakdown, and you’re gonna tell me it’s a simple malfunction” He was laughing, quietly, and seemed to be in genuine disbelief Gavin continued to speak, “You’re a fucking prick, do you know that?” He didn’t know that. In fact, Connor thought he was quite pleasant. He was quite literally coded to be nice. Gavin stepped back and ran his hands through his hair, he looked uncomfortable. Slowly, he stepped back into Connor’s personal space and grabbed the android by his jacket. “You’re a prick, Connor!”

↓↓↓

This has been a wip for ages and I doubt ill ever finish it so here ya go tumblr! I think if I did write the ending for this, Gavin would punch Connor in the face, and then demand the android follow him. He'd then teach Connor how to come up with better lies :)