#RK900 will just keep using Gavin's voice for DAYS

[iwonderwh0]

Gavin: Ugh, can you shut up? I hate hearing your fucking voice.

RK900: Okay then.

RK900 *in Gavin's voice*: From now on I'll be using yours.

[peskellence]

GAVIN

Graphic Violence (18+)

DBH x Carrie (2013) AU

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Teen Romance, Teen Crush, First Love, First Kiss, Alternate Universe - High School, Heavy Angst

Read on AO3 here:

Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Themes of Abuse, Religious Fanaticism 

Summary: Gavin Reed is a lonely teenage boy - bullied relentlessly at school and kept firmly in check at home by his fanatical mother - but there is a fire inside of him which begs for release. After an incident in the school showers, this fire presents itself as a newfound ability. Will he take advantage of this unexpected change to punish those who have wronged him?

Written as a request for @princessoflove978

Word Count: 8.4K

Gavin had been leaving the school gymnasium earlier that day when a sudden downpour drenched him. For a moment, this had left him confused. The sky above was clear, free of clouds, and there had been no rain forecasted. Then, he heard the sounds of laughter from the stairwell above - and felt the telling stickiness as he touched the front of his uniform. 

As he stood in the locker room showers, vigorously scrubbing himself, he concluded that the liquid was most likely juice. It had left his skin with a faint orange hue and refused to come off despite his best efforts.

Although he hadn't caught sight of the culprits, he was confident he knew who they were: Richard Perkins and the rest of his slack-jawed goons. A group of students who seemed intent on making his life a misery. 

He had long since surmised that their thuggish behaviour was compensation for a collective lack of brain cells. In fact, the only member of the group who seemed capable of any higher cognition was Connor Anderson.

Connor never appeared to gel with the group's contentious reputation. He would often linger in the background of their antics, acting as a silent observer. It was a stance that seemed influenced, at least in part, by being Mr Anderson's son: their gym coach and homeroom teacher. Regardless, it did not exonerate him from culpability, as he was still complicit.

Gavin continued to wash until the chill of the water became unbearable. Switching off the tap, he grabbed a nearby towel and began to dry himself off. He grimaced as he noted the lingering tackiness that clung to his hair but accepted that it would have to suffice.

He'd held off for as long as he could after class, waiting until the locker room was cleared, but he knew it was just a matter of time before Richard and his friends sought him out again. If he wished to avoid being cornered, he would need to make a swift exit.

Using a bin liner he had swiped from the janitor's closet, he bagged his sticky gym clothes and placed them in his backpack. He started to dress but had only just secured the buttons on his jeans when the doors to the locker room slammed open - accompanied by loud, jeering voices. 

As he entered the field of vision of the encroaching figures, the noises stopped, replaced by a tense silence. Then, a sneering address cut through, dripping with faux sweetness:

"Well, would you look who it is? Enjoy your bath, Reed?”

Gavin kept his head down and continued to dress himself, not wishing to give Richard the satisfaction of rising to the bait. He knew that the boy was more than aware of his fiery temper and took great joy in exploiting it for his own amusement. 

As he reached for the nearby bench to retrieve his shirt, one of Richard's larger cronies moved in to snatch it, hoisting it above his head. There was a flair of anger, but Gavin tempered it, as he firmly clenched his jaw.

"Give it back.”

The bully sneered as his lips twisted into a malicious grin. "Why should I? It's not yours." With a swift movement, the shirt was tossed to another boy, who caught it effortlessly.

“Yes, it is”, he replied, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. 

The shirt was one of the few possessions Gavin could claim proud ownership of.  Every Sunday, after mass, he would be entrusted to stay for the after-service youth group, provided just enough money to make his way back home. 

Instead, he had taken to using the time for extended walks around town, sneaking visits to the stores in the absence of his mother's watchful supervision. The shirt had been purchased on one of these trips, with the savings accumulated from weeks of unspent bus fare. 

“Don't see your name in it - and we know your nutjob mother likes to label your clothes.” 

The shirt continued to be passed around, until it landed in the hands of Connor. The boy tensed, staring down at the garment, as his expression morphed into a mixture of guilt and pity. His non-action appeared to have earned the contempt of the group’s leader, who sneered at him:

"Anderson, what the Hell are you doing? Napping?” Richard snatched the shirt away, doing so with enough force that it caused an audible tear. 

“Don't.” 

The plea had left his mouth before Gavin could stop it and was met with uproarious laughter from the group. 

Richard's eyes sparkled with sadistic intent. “Don't what - this?” He tugged the sides of the shirt with deliberate slowness, and the fabric began to split down the middle. 

It sent a chill down Gavin's spine, and he could no longer contain himself. Lunging forward, he bared his teeth, snarling viciously, "Give it back, you fucking asshole!”

He was restrained by two of Richard's friends, their biceps hooked under his arms. His slight, gaunt frame offered little resistance as he was hoisted effortlessly off the ground. Gavin fought back, writhing and screaming, no longer concerned about the taunts his actions were earning him.

“Awwww, you gonna cry, freak?”

“Look at his face, he's going bright red!” 

He wished the ceiling could crash down, crushing Richard and the rest of his friends under its weight. Freed from his captors, he would stride forward, pulling his t-shirt out of the rubble from still-twitching fingers. 

“Stop!”

The fluorescent bulbs above them surged,  crackling like logs on a fire before exploding into pieces. Their glass casings also shattered, cascading down in jagged fragments.

"What the Hell?" Richard and the group scrambled for cover, quickly shielding themselves.

As he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, Gavin stood motionless for a moment - before mirroring their defensive actions, reaching up to guard his face. This proved unnecessary, as the glass seemed to curve in an arch around him. He watched as shards hung in the air, suspended, before falling into harmless piles at his feet.

That was the day Gavin realised he was different - and not just in the ways that his peers would torment him for. He was special. 

***

In the days following the incident, he began to test his newfound abilities whenever the opportunity arose. One night, after dinner, he was sent to complete his usual task of cleaning the dirty dishes. However, this time, the sponge and water appeared to guide themselves without him so much as lifting a finger. 

On another occasion, a child had cycled past him on a worn-out yellow bike, hurling juvenile taunts. With the slightest movement of his head, Gavin had made him tumble off - watching with glee as his body scraped against the unforgiving pavement, covering him in cuts and grazes.

For the first time since losing his father, Gavin no longer felt consumed by loneliness or fear. Now, he felt powerful. 

This sense of empowerment only dimmed as he walked through the doors of his high school. His arrival was met with pointed stares and a flurry of harsh whispers. A swift reminder of just how little his peers thought of him. To them, he was still ‘Reed the Weed’ - with a bark far worse than his bite could ever hope to be. 

Except now they were wrong. He possessed a sort of power that they couldn't fathom. Something he could unleash with even the slightest provocation.

I could make them pay for everything they’ve done to me. 

The sinister voice whispered in his ear, tempting him to fulfil his darkest desires, but his conscious mind stopped it. He knew what his mother would say - what she would call his new powers and the compulsions that came with them - if only she knew. 

He grabbed a stack of books from his locker, slamming it shut with force. As he did, a familiar but unwelcome face came into view. A taut smile spread across it as brown eyes shone expectantly. 

“Hey, Ree - uh, Gavin, right?”

Connor's expression masqueraded itself as friendly, but Gavin knew better. He pushed past him with a scowl, making contact in a forceful shoulder check. He knew the other boy would never risk a physical retaliation - not with so many witnesses. 

“Fuck off and leave me alone.” 

Seemingly realising Gavin had no intent to engage further, Connor acted swiftly. He moved to intercept his path whilst also maintaining a respectful distance. 

“I know what you’re thinking, but Richard hasn’t sent me - I promise.” He raised his hands placatingly, and the motion brought attention to the bandages wrapping his palms. 

Gavin felt a twisted sense of pride, knowing he was the one who had caused the injuries but fought hard to make sure that this didn't show through his expression. 

“I just wanted to see how you were doing…after what happened in the locker room.”

“You didn’t give a damn when it was happening”, Gavin shot back coldly. “Save your breath, I’m not Mr. Anderson. I know you're a snake; you don't have to pretend.”

He darted to one side, trying to sidestep him, but Connor followed, matching his pace. “I know I should have said something. It wasn’t fair”, he babbled in apology. 

This only riled Gavin up further. He broke into a sardonic grin, laughing humourlessly. “Oh, I'm soooooo sorry. It seems I've misjudged you”, he simpered mockingly before leaning in with narrowed eyes. “You're not a snake - just a coward.”

Connor winced, sinking into himself. “I know, and I'm sorry… Dad gave me a pretty hard time over it. Nolan, too, when I told him.”

Gavin tensed, feeling his face burn at the name. Nolan - or ‘Nines’ as their classmates had taken to calling him - was a sensitive subject. Despite all his animosity for Connor, he found himself hopelessly smitten with his sibling and had been for quite some time.

Not wishing to give Richard any more ammunition, he worked hard to conceal his feelings - and so far, his efforts had proved successful. Connor, much to his chagrin, was far more perceptive. He had caught the telling glimmer of interest in Gavin's eyes before he could avert his gaze.

"Look, I'm just glad you're okay," he said, but there was an unspoken intrigue in his tone.

There was no opportunity to expand on this as Principal Fowler came charging down the hall, watchful eyes on the prowl for lingering truants. 

“Reed, Anderson!” his loud, authoritative voice called out to them. “Get to class immediately.”

The address startled Gavin, as it had only just occurred to him how much time had passed since the bell. Clearly, the revelation had only just dawned on Connor as well, as his eyes bulged wide in surprise. He turned on his heel obediently and babbled out a hurried apology. 

“Of course, sir. I'm sorry, I lost track of time.” Holding tight to the strap of his satchel, he appeared to be ready to make his exit. As he walked away, he shot Gavin one final, curious glance over his shoulder.

***

With the exception of the encounter with Connor, Richard and his gang appeared to be keeping a distance - much to Gavin's delight. Of course, they'd have no way of knowing he’d been responsible for what happened in the locker room, but perhaps the association alone had been enough to deter them for a while. 

This did not prevent the occasional covert taunt, of course, as the tiny paper balls currently being pelted at his head could contest to. Gavin leaned across his desk, burying himself in the crook of his arms as he tried his best to ignore it.

As his focus trailed idly around their homeroom, he caught sight of the wall-mounted clock below the bell and immediately fixated on it. Every second that ticked down brought him closer to the end of his day. Then, he could head home, retreat to the privacy of his bedroom, and continue to hone his newfound craft. 

Another, particularly hard, pelt struck the back of his head, and he snapped his attention around, glaring daggers at the person who'd thrown it. Chase Michaels, one of Richard's friends, turned away as he did so, pretending to whistle nonchalantly.

Then, Gavin noticed something behind Chase's head: A glossy poster, which had been hastily pinned to the class notice board. It depicted a smiling couple dancing against a vibrant backdrop of balloons and strobe lights. Suspended above their heads was a banner adorned in delicate cursive letters:

Class of 2013

Senior Prom

Saturday 25th May at 7 p.m.

Gavin glared, his nose wrinkling in displeasure. He could only imagine what the event might entail. The girls feigning innocence in candid exchanges as the boys strutted around like peacocks, desperately vying for their attention. 

It was the sort of shameless, hedonistic display that his mother had taught him to be disgusted by - and he knew he ought to be - but a part of him, however small, longed to participate. 

As Gavin retreated into his mind, the joyful couple on the poster began to warp and blur until they were nothing but vague shapes. When they slowly came back into focus, their features had been changed, tailored to his own desires. 

He saw himself in the position the girl had once held, dressed in a well-fitted suit, as he beamed up joyfully at his dance partner. The other boy looked back at him, grey eyes filled with longing, as their fingers intertwined.

Then, the figures began to move, seamlessly keeping in step with one another. This carried on for a while until Gavin was dipped back, and his partner leaned in, ready to claim his lips -

“Gavin Reed,” a voice interrupted. “I've called your name five times. Are you present or not?”

The fantasy was prematurely aborted as he found himself back in the classroom, bolting to attention in his seat. The hurried action caused him to knock one of his textbooks onto the floor, and it hit the linoleum with a harsh thud. 

A couple of students snickered, exchanging glances and shielded exchanges. The indistinct murmurs resonated like screams in his head, and Gavin gripped the side of his desk.

Mr Anderson was staring at him, visibly perplexed, as he raised an eyebrow. “Looking a little flushed there, son. Get a fly stuck in your throat while you were gawkin’?” 

Gavin suspected this was meant as a joke, but one that was hopelessly misguided, as it did nothing but open him up to further mockery. The candid whispers lost their subtlety as the exchanges became more transparent:

“Did you see his teeth? Fucking gross.”

“Seriously, does he even brush? Or does hygiene go against his religion?”

It started a chain reaction of gossip, spreading through the room like a tidal wave until it was completely engulfed. His hold on the desk increased as rogue splinters dug their way into his palms. 

He imagined the floors around them caving and hurling the rest of the students down through the air as he floated safely above them. Their desks falling in sequence, crashing and breaking, along with their bodies. 

I could make it happen. It would be so easy -

A subtle tremble shook his desk, one that nobody seemed to notice, as errant pencils rolled and tumbled, meeting his book on the ground. 

“That wasn't funny”, a voice called out, causing all the others to slowly taper off. It was rich and warm, like melted chocolate, feeling almost indulgent to listen to.

It had come from Nines, who was currently sitting reclined in his chair, tapping the end of a pencil thoughtfully against his lips. He shot their teacher a pointed look. “You've been using the same joke since Connor and I were kids. Come up with some new material, Dad.”

The roll call was cut short as the bell for the next period rang out. Gavin quickly shot to his feet, marching hurriedly out the door as he resisted the temptation to glance back at his unexpected saviour. 

As he emerged into the hall, ready to round the corner toward his physics class, a firm hand gripped his shoulder. 

“Wait a second.”

Gavin tensed under the touch as he could feel his heart pound ferociously within his rib cage. With a shaky breath, he glanced back, only to be met with focused grey eyes. Just as bright and intense as they had been in his fantasy.

“Don't pay them any attention”, he said smoothly. “They're a bunch of idiots who’ll be lucky to  graduate.”

He looked back at Nines for a moment, his mouth gaping open and closed dumbly, before he snapped himself out of his stupor. “If you want me to say ‘thank you’, I'm not going to. So fuck off.”

Nines seemed to waver a bit before his confident demeanour quickly returned. “No need to be nasty. I just did you a favour.”

“And I already told you, I don't care. Get someone else to stroke your ego.”

Unlike his brother, when Gavin tried to pull away, Nines was far more forceful. Taking advantage of his towering height, he reached his long arms towards him and caged his body against a set of nearby lockers. 

The sudden proximity sent Gavin into an emotional frenzy. He could feel the heat radiate off Nines’ body as he was assaulted with the scent of his rich, woody cologne.  

“I saw you looking at the prom poster”, he said, getting straight to the point. “Are you coming?”

Gavin bristled at the question as he glared back at him, frowning deeply. “No.”

“That's a shame. It would have been nice to see you.”

Gavin was struck with a familiar feeling. A looming foreboding that always came when he was being set up for something. “Yeah, I bet.” The words were hissed through gritted teeth as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You and your brother and his shithead friends. I'm sure they'd all love to see me. Make me feel real welcome.”

“Perkins won't be there. Or the rest.” 

“Why the hell not?”

“Connor sold them out to Principal Fowler. Told him about what they did to you”, Nines explained before his lip twitched into a subtle smirk. “Got in a bit of shit for it himself, though. He'll be serving after-school detention for the next month.” 

Suddenly, Richard's unexplained distancing was making more sense. 

He had been barred from the biggest social event of their schooling and probably faced further repercussions if he stepped out of line. Only when his menacing behaviour sought to bite him back did he show a willingness to stop. The realisation made Gavin feel sick. 

“Dad was livid”, Nines continued, entirely unaware of this inner dialogue. “Insisted the punishment wasn't harsh enough.”

“I don't give a shit about your dad - or your dickhead brother.”

“Connor is a good guy, really”, Nines breezed, not so much as flinching at the hostility levelled towards his sibling. “I just wish he would keep better company.”

“Maybe if he really was a good guy, he'd go and do that.” Gavin writhed against the locker dials, which were now digging grooves into his back. “Now let me go. I'm going to be late for class.”

Nines paused for a moment, studying his face. “Why are you so angry all the time?” 

The question struck a nerve, as it was one that he had no clear answer to. 

Even before his father had died, before all of the abuse had started, his mother had always compared his wrath to that of King Saul. Telling him he would fall to his sword, just as Saul did - and there was nothing he could do to stop this. All he could hope for was that God would forgive him, freeing him from the burdens of rage and jealousy in eternity. 

“Not everyone is out to get you. You know that, right?”

“Could have fooled me,” Gavin spat, his gnarled nails digging grooves into his palms. “Look, I don't know what you're trying to achieve here, but I'm guessing Connor put you up to it.”

“Not at all.” The response came quick and calm, with a tone that indicated no hint of dishonesty. “I'd want to make you feel welcome, if you wanted to go to prom.”

“Well, I don't want to.”

“Are you sure?” Nines asked, leaning in closer. “Not even if I took you?”

Gavin tensed as the world seemed to halt around him. He tried to speak, but his mouth went dry, and he backed himself further against the lockers.

“I'd like to take you if you're interested.”

“I'm not.”

“Just think about it”, Nines implored before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I'll give you my number, and then you can text me if you change your mind.”

Gavin was hit by a wave of embarrassment. “I can't do that. I don't have a phone.”

This revelation caused Nines to falter. His eyebrows raised in disbelief as his eyes subtly widened before his expression relaxed again. “That's okay. Do you have a landline? You can call me on that.”

“...Yeah, I do.”

Nines seemed to brighten at this, flashing a charming, crooked smile. “Do you have a pen?”

Gavin shrugged off his backpack, his hands trembling with nerves as he slowly zipped it open, retrieving one of his pens and handing it over. Nines accepted it with a polite nod before delicately grasping his hand.

“What are you doing?” Gavin questioned as he felt his breath hitch.

Using his free hand, Nines began to pen his phone number across his skin, humming in satisfaction once he'd finished. 

“I'll wait to hear from you.”

***

As he sat at the dinner table that evening, he found his finger repeatedly tracing the digits of Nines’ phone number as though hoping to etch them into his skin. It didn't take long for his mother to notice, and she brought her fork away from her mouth, pointing over:

“What's that on your hand?”

Gavin flinched and quickly pulled his sleeve down, shielding the numbers from her view. “Nothing, mother.”

The woman looked at him for a moment longer, her beady eyes narrowed and scrutinising, before returning attention back to her dinner. Gavin couldn't bring himself to care about food, still thinking of his conversation with Nines and the offer he had made to him. 

He stared down into his lap as his hands balled into fists. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and steeled himself to speak again. 

“I've been invited to prom.” 

The fork that his mother was holding was dropped abruptly, falling onto her plate with a sharp clank. “What was that?” 

“Prom”, Gavin repeated, trying to disguise the tremble in his voice. “You know, the end-of-year dance? Someone in my homeroom asked if I want to -”

“You won't be going.” His mother replied with a stern finality. “Now eat; your food is getting cold.”

The grip of his fists tightened as he slowly raised his head. “Why not?”

“Dances are worldly, filled with temptation”, she hissed contemptuously, picking up her knife and brandishing it towards him. “A breeding ground for immortality, of sinful influences.”

“I understand that,” Gavin began, trying his best to remain calm. “but it's a school dance; there will be teachers to supervise.”

“You expect me to trust your teachers to refrain from their own indulgences? They are as guilty as the rest.”

“I'm the only person who isn't going. I never get to go to anything.”

“If I let you go, then I let you stray from the righteous path, and I will not allow that.” 

He felt his blood run cold. Let. Allow. As though it were her choice, she laid claim to his freedom and autonomy. 

“I’m not asking,” Gavin said coldly, eyes determined. “I’m telling you. Someone has invited me, and I'm going with them. That's my decision.”

“How dare you speak to me like that?” she hissed back viciously. “This is why your father isn't here anymore. Your anger, your sin - ”

Her blame dug into him like a twisting blade, prompting him to retaliate. “Fuck you”, Gavin spat out, his breathing heavy and laboured. “I don't have to listen to this. Not anymore.”

The table began to shake. Gentle tremors built in intensity until its rickety legs creaked incessantly, threatening to buckle. He watched his mother's eyes widen, her lips parting to speak again, when her chair was pulled away from the table, carrying her with it.

“What’s happening?” she muttered, fearful eyes darting across the room. “Gavin, help -” 

The words died on her tongue as she met with his focused, hateful gaze. He raised his hand, pulling the chair from the ground and lifting it into the air as she clung to the weathered wood.

“I’m going, and you can't stop me.”

His mother remained silent, her eyes fixed on him, as her mouth shaped out a string of prayers. With a grunt of frustration and a deft twitch of fingers, he lurched the chair forward, threatening to tip her off. She yelped at the violent movement before bobbing her head in agreement. The motions were large and frantic, as though exemplifying her compliance. 

“O-Of course”, she stammered. 

He lowered the chair with delicate precision,  bringing it back to the ground. Even when her feet had touched the carpet, she continued to grip the frame. Her body was rigid and unmoving as if locked in position. 

As he strode towards her, she flinched, and he took note of the reaction with fiendish pleasure. He circled her chair, suppressing a cackle, before making his way into the kitchen. “I need to make a call. Don't move.” 

The phone rang out for quite some time before he received a response. When he did, the voice that addressed him was airy and feminine: 

“Hello?”

Gavin felt himself deflate as a grim realisation struck. It had all been a trick, another twisted joke at his expense. Readying himself to hang up the call, there was a sudden rush of noise in the background, followed by a second voice - one that he recognised:

“Nolan speaking.”

His hope reignited, and after a moment of hesitancy, he began to speak. “...I’ll go with you”, he mumbled, his jaw clenched tight with nerves. “To prom. I want to go.”

“Gavin?” Nines replied, sounding more than a little surprised. “I’m glad you called. Sorry about the mix-up. We've got our cousin staying over. She's a nightmare, no sense of boundaries.”

“Do you want to meet me here? On Saturday?”

There was a momentary pause before Nines began to chuckle down the receiver. “Yeah - I'll pick you up in something nice. Don't worry; I know how to treat my dates.”

Gavin hung on the end of the sentence, a knot forming in his stomach. ‘Dates’ seemed to imply that it was a frequent occurrence, as though sweeping people off their feet came to him naturally. At the same time, there was an implicit confirmation that Nines had more than platonic intentions when he had extended his invitation.

“Right.” He tried to sound casual, but it proved difficult with the weighty lump that had formed in his throat. “I'll see you then.” 

***

Choosing an outfit for the dance had proved a challenge. Gavin’s wardrobe was woefully sparse, mainly consisting of worn-out offerings from the local thrift shop. The options for formal wear were even more limited. 

There was a tired brown jacket with a shabby lapel, which he typically wore to Church, or a decidedly sleeker black suit he wore to his father's funeral. After a fleeting deliberation, he chose the latter.

When it had first been purchased, the jacket had swamped him - and while he still failed to fill it perfectly, he was reasonably satisfied with the look it achieved. The excess material helped mask his gauntness, lending him a more stocky appearance. While he didn't own anything in the way of hair products, he had combed the typically unruly strands into a more controlled, slick-back style, using water to keep it in place. 

Surveying himself in the mirror, he was pleasantly surprised. Had it not been for some of his more unsightly features, including the prominent scar on his nose and the deep-set bags under his eyes, he might have even passed for attractive.

There was a nervous tap on his door, and Gavin felt his contentment waver. With a disgruntled tut, he twitched his head, compelling the door to open. His mother stood before him, trembling. 

“Don't go, Gavin”, she pleaded weakly, “Stay here, we can fix this.”

“There's nothing to fix. I'm great.”

“You’re a demon.” Her words sounded choked as she said this, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “We can pray for the Lord's forgiveness, ask that he rid you of this curse.”

There was a distinctive roar of an engine as a car pulled up outside. As Gavin stole a peek through the window, it soon became apparent that there had been no exaggeration in Nines’ promise. A white limousine with sleek black accents and tinted windows was parked on the curb. His heart leapt with nervous excitement, and with a final adjustment of his tie, he was ready to leave. 

As he turned around, he was dismayed to find that his mother stood in the doorway, her chest puffed out in defiance. “If you leave now, you'll never be forgiven.”

With a dismissive roll of his eyes, he flicked his hand out in a sweeping gesture, and his mother followed with it, her shoulder clipping the doorway. Marching past, he took no notice as she chased him, spewing out frantic warnings. “It's a trick, don't let them fool you! They’re all going to laugh -”

The final words were trapped in her throat as it was closed by an invisible force. Gavin flung her back by her neck, propelling her into a nearby wall before making his way out of the house.

***

Sat in the back of the limousine, Gavin could feel his nerves beginning to mount. His nails dug into his thighs, catching the threads of his dress pants. He silently weighed up his options as they drew closer to their destination. Perhaps if he focused his attention, he could stall the car's engine - or cause a small-scale collision on the road. Nothing cataclysmic, but just enough to delay their arrival, giving him a chance to calm down. 

In addition, it meant he could spend more time alone with the handsome boy sitting next to him. 

Nines, as could have been predicted, looked stunning, dressed in a tailored slate-grey suit. It struck Gavin just how improbable their current situation was. He could have had anyone he wanted, yet he had chosen him - the social pariah of the school. Even in a reality where he had not been bestowed with his extraordinary abilities, this alone would have been enough to make him feel special. 

As they arrived at the prom, stepping out of the car, they were met with several questioning looks. Nines stood proudly to his side, leaning over to speak in his ear, offering words of reassurance: “Don't be nervous, I've got you.”

Gavin tried to look away, feigning indifference, until Nines stepped out before him and smoothly offered his arm. All of his defences melted away as a result of the simple action. He felt lightheaded as the other boy waited, looking expectant.

He nodded, albeit grunting as he did so. Nines grinned in victory, wide and bright, before skillfully linking their arms together.

They walked together into the venue and were accosted by even more stares and whispers. Nines seemed entirely unfazed, keeping his back straight and chin raised when a gleeful voice called out his name:

“Nolan, over here!” 

Connor was sat by the entrance on a fold-out metal chair, practically vibrating in excitement. The desk he was manning boasted a notice board as well as a large red ballot box. Nines smiled at his brother before zoning in on the board. 

“...Are they seriously still doing that?” He sighed, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll. “Prom King and Queen? Seems a bit backwards. I thought we were living in the 21st Century.”

His brother chuckled at this. “I agree - which is why I've added you two as candidates.” He reached underneath the table, revealing a fresh stack of papers before hoisting them proudly into his arms.

Gavin trained on the pile dubiously, a sense of apprehension creeping in. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“We thought it might be a nice change of pace”, Another, more mature voice explained. 

Mr Anderson came into view, nodding with subtle approval at Nines and Gavin before pressing a firm hand to Connor's shoulder. “Spoke to Principal Fowler about it, and he agreed it was an outdated system. Don't worry, there won't be any funny business. Isn't that right , son?” 

There was a cutting sharpness to the words as his large hand subtly tightened its hold. 

Connor winced under the touch, eyes darting between his father and brother, who were both shooting him pointed looks. “...No funny business”, he promised. 

“Well, there's only one reasonable thing to do, then.” Nines fished a blank sheet from the top of the stack before setting it down on the table and marking his selection. He carefully folded the sheet and fed it into the ballot box.

As they left to find somewhere to sit, Nines made no further mention of this, falling silent. This left Gavin a little subdued, yearning for the return of the comforting voice, as a lingering curiosity also built. 

Looking across the table, he compelled himself forward and opened his mouth to speak. “Who did you vote for?”

Nines seemed a little focused at first, his eyebrows knitted together, before relaxing into a look of realisation. After mouthing a small ‘ah’, he began to reply. “Us, obviously.”

To Gavin, there seemed to be nothing obvious about this statement. His mouth gaped open and closed before pressing for elaboration. “Why?” 

“Because I don't believe in false modesty,” Nines said back casually before his lips pulled into a smirk. In a playful gesture, he leant over, softly nudging his date. “Besides, we might win.”

“What happens if we do?”

“We head to the stage, and we give a speech.” Nines gestured to the front of the hall, where the stage in question was situated. “They used to do crowns and sashes, but it's just trophies this year.”

Gavin sunk into his chair. The thought of having to go on stage, presenting himself to the entirety of their peer group, filled him with an immeasurable sense of dread.

“They'll laugh at me”, he mumbled grimly, echoing his mother's previous sentiments.

“No, they won't, you look amazing.”

This was almost certainly an exaggeration, but the fluidly delivered compliment filled Gavin with warmth nonetheless. He felt it creep onto his face, radiating his cheeks. 

If Nines noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. He progressed with his efforts to reassure him, gently squeezing his arm. “No one will laugh, and if anyone tries, I'll shut it down. I promise.”

Nines seemed to exude effortless charm with his every word and action, and as the evening wore on, Gavin found himself succumbing further to his draw. His eyes were like a doorway to Heaven as they beckoned him closer, with hushed preaches that he was safe and valued.

He would have happily spent the rest of his life sitting there, getting lost in them, but there were only so many dreams that his powers could manifest for him. Eventually, it had to end - as Nines spoke again, disrupting the serenity:

“Do you want to dance?”

Gavin felt himself tense as the plastic solo cup in his hand crackled under his tightening grip. “I don't know, I've never done it.” 

“I can show you”, the other boy suggested, smiling kindly, before he stood to his feet and held out his hand. 

Burdened by the fear that his refusal may compel him to leave, Gavin gave a curt nod, and the two made their way to the dance floor. Nines let their positions, elevating their clasped hands until they were around waist height, before guiding the shorter boy's available hand onto his shoulder. 

“Keep your hand like this”, he instructed before placing a hold on Gavin's waist. “and then just follow my steps, okay?” 

Gavin felt a giddy delirium as a result of the tender touch, as his desires for the other boy grew, building into something unholy. His steps felt forced and clumsy, but Nines called no attention to it, even when he trod on the end of one of his polished shoes. 

“Sorry”, he muttered in apology. 

“Don't worry,” Nines spun him around in a fluid circle before guiding him back into his original position. “about anything. Just focus on me, and enjoy yourself.” 

The advice was unneeded, as Gavin would have been hard-pressed to focus on anything else. The glow of the lights against his pale skin and the loving glimmer against his eye all had him completely spellbound. He was ready to submit, to become his entirely, in any way Nines might desire. 

For a moment, he thought he may be manifesting the entire thing. That he was still sat in Mr Anderson’s homeroom, dozing against his desk - as against all odds, he could sense Nines leaning towards him, bringing their faces closer. Then he felt the gentle warmth against his lips. 

His throat burned and constricted as he resisted the urge to moan. There was a slight twinge of shame at just how quickly he sought to unravel at the smallest of touches. The chaste kiss was over far quicker than Gavin would have liked, and when Nines pulled back, he noted that he was no longer smiling. 

Gavin felt his pulse climb, and his mind began to reel off myriad possibilities. Maybe he had done something wrong - pulled forward too much or too little - or perhaps Nines had found his dry, chapped lips entirely repulsive. Maybe the intimacy had compelled him to realise what a horrible mistake he was making as he took his charitable behaviour a step too far. 

“I think I should probably confess to something.” His voice sounded small and guilty, lacking all of his usual confidence. “My brother may have convinced me to do this.”

His heart sank as he was struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of betrayal. He pulled away from Nines harshly as he felt the tempered fire inside himself roar back to life. It built in intensity, pleading for release. He knew he needed to leave before his power slipped from his control, and he did something regrettable. 

Of all the people in attendance that night, Nines was the only person he would never wish to harm. 

Much to his dismay, Nines followed as he stormed towards the exit. He grabbed the shorter boy's arm, firmly compelling him back. “I wouldn't have gone along with it if I didn't want to.”

“Why should I believe that?” Gavin seethed as his eyes began to fill with angry tears, which he desperately willed away. “ I'm so fucking stupid. Why did I let myself think that you'd actually want to do something nice for me?”

“Because I did”, Nines protested back. “Me, my brother, and my dad - we all did.”

“Oh, so your fucking dad was in on this as well?” Gavin grappled with control over his every sharp, laboured breath. His body shook, and the polished floorboards beneath his feet resonated with it. “You're all sick, you know that?”

“I like you.” 

The words came firm and assured but with a subtle desperation. It was enough to ground Gavin periodically as he slowly turned back, eyebrows raised in question.

“Really…I do”, Nines continued, sounding strangely vulnerable. His usually focused gaze was soft, and his full lips pulled inward. “I want to do this properly. After the dance, how about we go to dinner, or see a movie? My treat.” 

Gavin was stunned, unable to say anything, as his mouth gaped open and closed helplessly. Then, suddenly, someone was calling out their names. Spoken from a microphone on the stage:

“The winners of the Stratford High Senior Prom Election - in the Category of Royalty - are… Gavin Reed and Nolan Anderson!”

“...Did you hear that?” Nines looked beside himself, giddy with delight, before he pridefully extended his chest. “You won, Gavin, we won.”

Gavin failed to match the enthusiasm as the expectant eyes of their peers trailed to the back of the room, landing on him all at once. He felt himself drawn to the doors in front of him, but he was quickly halted as he made another attempt to flee.

“Let's do the speech, accept the trophies, and then we can get out of here together.” The suggestion was punctuated by a soft squeeze of his shoulder. “What do you say?”

The offer was tempting, and despite his best efforts, Gavin was powerless to resist it. “Dinner and a movie doesn't make up for the shitty thing you did”, he said. 

“I understand,” Nines replied, exhaling a small sigh of relief. Then, the warm expression shifted into something more mischievous as his mouth spread into a teasing grin. “Maybe there's another way I can make it up to you.”

Reaching the stage, they were met with a chorus of cheers and blinding camera flashes, as well as the beaming face of their class representative - holding out their trophies. 

As Gavin looked out to the crowd, he relaxed a bit, his apprehension tapering into a burgeoning sense of pride. Nines had been right. No one was laughing. Despite everything they had put him through for the majority of his schooling, they seemed inexplicably joyous - as though sharing his moment of triumph.

Amidst the crowd, he caught sight of Connor and Mr Anderson, who were mirroring each other's gleeful expressions, thumbs raised encouragingly. 

Slowly, he let his guard down and fully indulged in the high he was experiencing. Following Nines’ lead, he raised his hand and began to turn it in a small waving gesture. The volume in the room grew as the cheers became more exuberant. 

Then, something changed. He noted as Connor's expression fell, glancing at the lights and rafters that dangled overhead. Without any warning, he was lunging forward, visibly startled. He didn't get far, however, before he was seized by the firm grip of his father and firmly yanked back. 

Gavin followed his trail of vision up to the rafters and noticed a rogue glimmer of light as it caught against something large and metallic.

Connor thrashed and cried, his voice drowned by the still-thunderous applause. He refused to back down, and his father lost patience, forcefully guiding him toward the exit before shoving him across the threshold and slamming the doors shut.

It was a bucket dangling precariously above their heads, twitching against a length of string. Before he could do anything to react, the bucket lurched forward, and it spilt its contents.

A crimson torrent drenched Gavin from head to toe before flowering out and painting the stage like a canvas. In the chaos, some of the spillage veered off course, trailing Nines' shoulder with streaks of red. 

He stood frozen as he tried to process what had just happened. A haunting silence enveloped the hall until a singular voice cut through, dripping with venom:

“Enjoy your bath, Reed?”

There were a couple of rogue titters before they built in volume - until the entire venue was filled with an uproar of laughter. 

Nines had shifted beside him and was slowly reaching out, fingers brushing against his arm. A small noise passed his lips as though he were about to say something, but the words never had the chance to form. 

There was a low creak above their heads as the bucket strained against the rope before finally tumbling loose. It hurtled down at speed and struck Nines hard against the head. Reeling from the impact, he teetered on his feet momentarily before collapsing onto the floor. He stared up at Gavin, grey eyes blown and glassy, until their vibrant spark began to dull. Then, without warning, it was gone - leaving no trace behind. 

The sight unleashed something primal in Gavin and in an intense culmination of all his pain - the endless torment he had been subjected to - a rage-fueled scream ripped from his throat. 

The walls of the venue began to quiver as cracks spread across the ceiling. Flakes of plaster fell in clouds before being disrupted by the students who had been sent hurtling through them. Some of them were left to fly until they hit the walls. Others were stopped before impact and hung suspended in the air. Then they were slammed to the ground, their bodies shattering.

The laughter that had filled the room minutes prior had turned to panicked screams. Gavin’s lips twisted into a sadistic grin as he indulged in the sound.

A male student fumbled for his phone, seemingly intent on capturing evidence. Gavin spun a thread of energy around his neck before pulling it tight and wrenching it at an unnatural angle. With a click of his fingers, the energy released, and the student's neck pinged back, breaking with a snap. 

Scattered crowds made for the bleachers, seeking out a means to escape. The steps were wrenched backwards as several students fell into the chasm that had emerged. The structure then violently thrust itself back into place, crushing those caught under it. Blood erupted from gaping mouths like gurgling fountains before their writhing bodies went still.

Gavin’s gleeful cackles echoed through the chaos as he was struck by a jolt of inspiration. With arms outstretched, he gestured towards the fire sprinklers and compelled them to roar to life. The cables which powered the stage lights above him violently snapped free. They hissed like vipers, emitting sparks, before slithering towards the dancefloor and hovering above it, awaiting further instruction. 

His eyes swept the room with a predatory focus, ready to unleash retribution on what little remained of his prey. Before taking action, he saw Mr. Anderson - his expression contorted with fear as he desperately scrambled against the wave of fleeing students. His bulging eyes were fixed on the stage, where his son lay motionless, brimming with unshed tears.

With what little humanity was left in him, Gavin hauled the man from the floor, gripping with force across his throat. The cables plummeted down, charging the stagnant water with a frenzy of sparks. The students began to convulse as their flesh seared and blackened. The sparks danced toward the silky curtains that adorned the venue walls before coaxing them ablaze.

The fire spread until it raged all around him, and Gavin strode away from the stage. Flames bowed to his command, parting and receding in line with his steps as he navigated the numerous bodies. Amongst them was Mr Anderson, who lay curled on the ground, knees tucked to his chest as he quietly sobbed.

The doors to the hall flung open, and Gavin was hit by the cool breeze outside. He vanished into the night, merging seamlessly into the shadows.

As he paced the dimly lit streets, a distant glimmer of headlights caught his attention. The vehicle's engine roared to life as it sped down the street toward him. The car veered into his path, and Gavin swivelled on his heel, turning to face it head-on. 

In the seconds before impact, he raised a hand to his face, summoning a force that crushed the hood and halted its movement. The resulting rebound sent the driver jerking forward, colliding with the windshield. Through the bloodied web of glass, Richard Perkins stared at him - and then his body slumped back, still and lifeless. 

Upon reaching his house, the front door was wrenched inwards, ripping from its hinges. The interior was eerily quiet, with all the lights switched off. He began peering into the darkened rooms, calling out for his mother. When he received no response, he fumbled blindly for the switch in the landing - and as the bulb above flickered, he felt a searing pain pierce through his body. 

It started in his back and drove itself forward, finishing at his chest. He reached behind him to find the source, and his fingers met the sharp blade of a knife. He pulled it out, staring in shock, before turning to face his mother. She quivered in fear behind him, her face stained with blood. 

"Satan lives in you, and now I send you back to him.” 

Struggling against the pain, Gavin stumbled. His vision started to blur as blood poured from the now-gaping wound. He gestured towards his mother with a heated snarl, propelling her through the house and into the kitchen.

He strode forward as the knife followed along behind him, suspended in the air. Nearby cupboards and drawers rattled and flung themselves open, releasing a swarm of utensils. They circled and darted around her like a swarm of angry bees, gradually closing in.

There was a moment of hesitation as his mother looked at him, her typically cold eyes wide and pleading. Then, the memories flooded back - of all the abuse she had inflicted and of the times she had pointedly blamed him for the death of his father.

Gavin closed his eyes, clenching his hand into a fist, which dictated the movement of the utensils. A sharp cry pierced the air, followed by strained gurgles and then, ultimately, silence. 

Burdened by the weight of what he had done, he let out one final, thunderous scream. It resonated through the room, causing the walls to shudder. The house groaned as pipes ruptured and the wooden floors split beneath his feet.

He drew in a breath and calmly braced himself. With the pressure reaching its peak, the ceilings and walls started to buckle before collapsing around him.

[sunnydeviant]

Yearning (Reed900)

This fic is on AO3!

There was one thing in the Zen Garden he had created on his own, started from scratch with each line of code carefully written by the android himself. It was the thing that made him look forward to stasis.

(Inspired by the song "I Wanna Be Yours" by the Arctic Monkeys and the Detroit: Evolution Reed900 edit with the same song by Octopunk Media. In addition, I took Zenvin from DE but this isn't a DE fic)

Nines, nowadays, is almost always eager to enter stasis.

As an android of the RK line, it was seen as necessary to do. Connor, an RK800 and his predecessor, had to do it. Markus, an RK200, had to as well. As advanced prototypes, they used stasis to process information the way humans used dreams. However, in stasis, androids were fully aware of their actions and environment.

Nines, an RK900, had a Zen Garden waiting for him in stasis. For the other RKs, they had created their own environments. However, Nines stuck with the setting given to him by CyberLife. It was familiar and comforting.

Although, there was one thing in the Zen Garden he had created on his own, started from scratch with each line of code carefully written by the android himself. It was the thing that made him look forward to rest.

It was a version of Gavin, his work partner. He was a detective and human who worked with the android at the Detroit Police Department.

Initially, the Zen Garden version of Gavin, or Zenvin, as Nines liked to call him, was created as a way to cope with the real Gavin’s vile behavior when they were first partnered. Gavin was a cantankerous man when they first met. He was almost always raising his voice at the android and belittling him when they had met. Nines, in his frustration, created Zenvin. He was kinder, for the most part. Although, he served the purpose of teaching Nines how to interact with his partner. The AI had helped him greatly.

Now, Gavin and Nines were as close as an android detective and his human partner could get, considering their rough start. They were close friends now, after having taken the time to attempt to understand each other after their endless amount of misunderstandings. They were on good terms.

Although, something in Nines itched for more. He wasn’t sure when it had started. Like a flower, the feeling bloomed a while ago, and had continued to grow. At first, the feeling was painful and emotionally burdening. After, he began to come to terms with the fact that he had fallen in love with someone for the first time. Someone he had a work and platonic relationship with. The acceptance helped, but the pain was still there regardless.

It was only during stasis he could ease away the pain and disregard the unrealistic aspects of the pre-constructions he had made, all involving the detective.

It was only during stasis he could satisfy his own feelings.

Zenvin was made to help Nines learn how to deal with his human, but he eventually was used to help play out the scenarios he had only imagined involving the actual Gavin Reed.

Only in his Zen Garden could he hold, kiss, and hug Gavin without the fear of rejection or distrust. Nines knew the human would never return his feelings, let alone touch him, even in a platonic sense.

The AI he had created looked, talked, walked, and sounded exactly like Gavin. It possessed his emerald eyes and playful tone.

The thing was, Nines was fully aware of the fact that the AI was only a simulation; he could satisfy all his wants and needs in this world he possessed, but Gavin would never truly love him back. Although, pretending in his Zen Garden hurt less than having to face rejection by his partner.

The android opened his eyes slowly. His LED spun calmly, glowing pastel yellow.

He looked ahead, confused as he saw no one in sight.

Taking a deep breath, the android began to stroll around his Zen Garden, looking for the AI man he sought out every time in this world.

Zenvin stood at the opposite end of the garden, looking up at the pink of the cherry blossoms blooming on a tree.

“Nines,” He greeted with a pleasant tone, smiling gently.

“Hello, Gavin.”

Admiring the human's serene expression, Nines smiled back at him. He looked lovely.

Zenvin turned to the RK900.

The AI looked calm and rested, rather than disheveled and tired, unlike the human he was based on. He wore a clean white shirt and kept his hair naturally curly. His skin looked bright and clean. Although he kept his stubble and scars, he still looked angelic.

He took the android’s hand in his, interlaced their fingers, and kissed the back of Nines’s hand, making him blush blue.

They began their typical stroll around the garden with a languid pace. Nines always felt relaxed here, as if a deep calm blanketed his body.

He felt the warm sunlight of his skin, the gentle grip of Gavin’s hand, and heard the soft thud of their footsteps beneath them.

Being here with Zenvin never failed to bring him genuine peace. Here, he could slow down for a few moments before committing himself back to his real life. It was always stressful and confusing out there.

The android may have been a deviant for over a year, but his emotions and their effects always felt new, as if he was only converted days ago. It added to the stress of navigating through work and personal matters. The whirlwind of emotions he was always experiencing usually felt overwhelming, besides in moments like this. Everything felt manageable and distant like this.

Only in his own mind could Nines truly relax.

Zenvin brought them over to a bench placed in the center of the garden, facing the old “emergency exit" in the distance. It had no use, now that Nines was deviant. It was meant to be used if an android had to force exit the control of CyberLife or their program. Although, there was no use now that all androids were deviant. There was no programming to escape.

Now, it was kept there for the sake of comfort: he would never use it, but he wanted to keep it there. He knew he would dislike the empty space it would leave behind and would not know what to use to fill its place.

He looked at it for a second, wondering if he would ever have had to use it if the circumstances were different.

“Eyes on me, tin can.”

The android turned to face the man beside him, who stared at him with a fond smile.

Zenvin brought his hand up to the Nines’s neck, gently caressing it. Rubbing his thumb against his cheek, the program human tilted his head to the side in the quizzical matter the RK900 did at times.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing much. I’m just glad to be here with you.”

Nines placed his hand over Zenvin’s. He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across his lips as he leaned into the touch.

Suddenly, the human’s expression changed into something serious. The smile on his lips had disappeared and his brows were slightly furrowed in what seemed to be worry.

“Nines, I need you to wake up. Wake up, Nines,” Nines heard.

However, it didn’t come from Zenvin’s lips.

Nines looked at him with sudden confusion. His LED spun a violent red and began to flicker wildly.

“Gavin?”

Nines blinked forcefully a few times, his Zen Garden and the real world replacing each other every time he opened his eyes. After a few more times, he was finally completely out of stasis, displeased to have left his Zen Garden so suddenly.

“I leave for maybe, about 3 minutes and you’re already nodding off on me. You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Detective.”

“Sheesh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep. No need to pull the ‘Detective’ shit on me.”

Gavin eyed the android suspiciously, who just went back to scanning files on his tablet. He turned to his computer and sipped his coffee.

With no new cases of their concern, the duo didn’t have much to do besides look at old cases or, in the android’s case, upload hard copies of information from the evidence archive to the police department’s online database.

The lack of action was unusual for them, as they could usually be found on active scenes or researching their cases. However, it was excruciating, especially for the human. Everyone in the station knew that he lived for his job, so seeing him so agitated over the lack of work was expected.

“May I suggest ending our work day early? I’ve already updated the department’s database with case files from the 1970s to the 1980s and I’m sure you’re sick of staring over the same closed case for 3 hours.”

Gavin stared at Nines with a cocked eyebrow.

“You’ve read my mind,” he sighed, grabbing his keys and turning off his computer.

“Let’s grab something to eat, yeah?”

“Sure, Gavin.”

Gavin walked toward the back exit of the building as Nines tidied his desk, numerous pre-constructions, which would never be played out, running through his HUD.

[asset35-maya]

[60]

On the first anniversary of the Revolution, Connor-60 is back where it all begin.

He’s sitting on a park bench. He’s waiting for nothing in particular, but he can wait forever. Time means nothing to those who’ve died before. It’s cold. Bitterly cold. It’s dark and there’s not much to see, but he’s been there for hours.

He knows he’ll regret it later. The lubricant in his mechanical joints will freeze and he’ll be stiff for days, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s not like he ever operates at optimum levels anyway. Some days just walking in a straight line is an achievement. That’s what a clean shot through the forehead will get you…

>>SYSTEM ALERT: [Mission parameters have not been updated in 239 days]

He sighs. An unnecessary expulsion of breath that immediately fogs up in the icy night air. He wishes he had something to do, somewhere to be. He wishes he could just make something up to make the prompt go away.

>>SYSTEM ALERT: [Biocomponents #881, #77, #434 and #90 due for scheduled maintenance]

>>WARNING: [Excessive low temperature exposure]

He really should get up and go. He wishes he wanted to. Most androids had adapted so beautifully to deviancy and newfound freedom. They seemed to blend seamlessly with human society. Even those that retained their LEDs out of pride had completely customised their appearance to reflect their unique identities.

Sixty silently watched his species evolve and grow from strength to strength. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to join them in their progress. It seemed dangerous. Too good to be true.

Connor told him he was just being pessimistic. Nines simply told him he was foolish. He used other words… rather unparliamentary ones… but that was the essence of it. Easy for them to speak from their places of comfort, all wrapped up in the warmth of a human embrace. Nines was married. The bastard had been alive less than a year and already had a ring on his finger. Connor was likely going the same way. Sixty didn’t have that luxury. Most people avoided him… and not just for the deep gash on his forehead… or perpetually yellow LED. There was something innate that kept people at bay. Even if he tried his best to keep sarcasm out of his words and acidity out of his tone.

Perhaps it was the knowledge of what he’d done that fateful night at Cyberlife Tower… before he was even truly awake. That act of hostage taking. The irredeemable brandishing of a weapon. Something tantamount to a war crime. But Nines and Connor had also been built as deviant hunters. Killing machines. But now they swanned about like police royalty.

Perhaps it was the slight limp he walked with because of his neurological injuries. No one liked damaged goods. But plenty of abused androids had found loving homes. Especially at Jericho. When he visited once, Sixty had met a severely scratched-up but extremely happy WR600 that referred to himself as Ralph.

Perhaps it was just that he wasn’t a very good person. He wasn’t kind, or generous. He didn’t do anyone any favours. But then again, Nines wasn’t exactly kind. The RK900 was actually quite selfish and egotistical. (Or maybe that didn’t get in the way of finding love if the lover in question was an equally arrogant detective named Gavin Reed.) Perhaps it was just Sixty.

>>SYSTEM ALERT: [Lubricant flow reduction]

>>WARNING: [Excessive low temperature exposure]

If only there was something to pull him out of frozen purgatory. Someone. Anyone.

>>INCOMING VOICE CALL: CPT. DAVID ALLEN, SWAT UNIT 32, DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT

“Sixty?”

The man doesn’t say as much as breathe his name out. His voice is as rough as it is soft. Much like the man himself. Sixty stands up immediately.

“What?”

“Oh good, you’re alive.”

“For now.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Depends on who’s asking. David or Allen?”

“Huh?”

“Is this my Captain speaking? Or someone else?”

Silence. A bit of static.

“I just traced your location.”

Sixty sighed once more and turned around. He looked up at the skyscraper looming above. He was back where it had all begun. Where it had all gone wrong before it had even started.

>>LOCATION: Cyberlife Tower, Belle Isle

>>DATE: November 11, 2039

>>TIME: 11:01 PM EST

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

The last word was barely audible. Sixty went and sat back down on the bench, audio processors tuned closely to the soft breathing on the other end of the line.

“I made mistakes too, you know. Last year.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah actually, Six, good for me. I regret my actions but not the lessons I learnt.”

“Wowww. You might actually be a worse motivational speaker than Jeffrey Fowler. Congrats. I don’t regret my transfer at all.”

A breathy laugh was huffed over the phone.

>>[AUDIO FILE: SAVED]

“Fine, I’ll stop trying that shit if you stop running out on me.”

“I didn’t run anywhere. I walked. Very calmly.”

Allen didn’t respond to that but Sixty could imagine the upward curve of his lips. The clicking sound of a turning indicator was audible. Followed by the sound of hands moving quickly over one another on a steering wheel. He fought off the flood of warmth through his chassis. No need to get carried away. Allen hadn’t even said what he wanted. Several minutes passed in silence, save for the sound of harsh wind.

“Hey Six...”

>>WARNING: [THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD]

>>SYSTEM HEALTH RECOVERY: THIRUM PUMP REGULATION RESTORED

He kicked himself mentally for the reaction.

“What.”

“Why on earth are you freezing your balls off out there… What do you gain? Hurting yourself doesn’t change anything.”

“Androids can’t feel pain.”

“Even deviants?”

“No.”

There was a sharp sound of air being sucked in through teeth.

“Thought you promised not to lie to me.”

“I promised no such thing.”

“It’s literally one of the first things I asked of you.”

“I might have promised Allen. This seems like more of a David kind of conversation. I don’t think I’ve promised him anything.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“He’s never asked.”

A car door slammed a few feet away. Footsteps crunched through the snow.

“He’s asking now.”

Sixty looked up.

“What?”

“David. Is asking. Now.”

He stifled a smile as the use of third person brought Ralph to mind.

“What’s he asking?”

The call ended as Allen thrust his phone into his jacket and sat down on the bench.

“It’s bad enough you picked the fucking North Pole for this little rendezvous, so don’t make it more difficult. You know what I’m trying to say here.”

Sixty glanced over his shoulder at the Tower. It seemed to recede into the distance. He looked back in front and somehow he noticed the glimmering waterline for the first time. It was kind of beautiful. Allen slid closer on the bench.

“You done here?”

The question was asked in a whisper.

“Doing… or feeling whatever it was you felt you needed to?”

He knew what Allen was asking but he genuinely did not have an answer.

“Could we move this to the car, at least… It's really very cold. You even have these little icicles on your lashes…”

A thumb hovered near his optical units and carefully brushed his frozen tears away. Sixty closed his eyes as Allen’s hand cupped his cheek briefly and fell away.

>>[SENSORY DATA: SAVED]

“You’re one of the best men I’ve ever had on the team. And I’ve been on the job for over twenty years.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

“Cut that out, asshole. I mean it. I’m not talking about being fast or efficient… which you absolutely are by the way, don’t let those tiny imperfections get you down… I’m talking about how good your heart is.”

>>SOCIAL PROGRAMMING ACTIVATED

>>SPEECH ANALYSIS: RUNNING

>>RESULT: [GENUINE SENTIMENT]

“You’re always thinking of others. Whether they’re feeling comfortable. Safe. You never put yourself first. You don’t speak more than you need to… and when you do, it’s fucking hilarious…”

>>EMOTION RECOGNITION: SCANNING

>>RESULT: [22% ANXIETY] [37% ANTICIPATION] [41% AFFECTION]

“You’re a good guy, Sixty. No matter what anyone says. No matter what you think. You’re good… especially for me.”

A hand brushed his tentatively.

“I don’t know where I’m going with this… I can’t give you the kind of fireworks display your brat brother got from Reed… and I’m not a… a hopeless romantic like Connor-”

Sixty took the hand and stood up. Allen followed slowly, looking from their intertwined fingers to Sixty’s face in surprise.

>>HEART RATE: 90 BPM

>>EMOTION RECOGNITION: SCANNING

>>RESULT: [39% ANTICIPATION] [61% AFFECTION; LOVE]

They nodded at each other solemnly for a moment.

>>WARNING: [Excessive low temperature exposure]

>>WARNING: [Mechanical systems compromise imminent] [Mechanical failure probability: HIGH]

Allen cracked a smile.

“You’re freezing aren’t you, Six? You’re freezing your plastic ass off.”

“Shut up, David.”

The use of his first name was enough for the man to close the distance between them. He wrapped his strong arms around Sixty and kissed the android with little hesitation.

>>SYSTEM HEALTH RECOVERY: Core temperature restoration in progress

>>MILESTONE ACHIEVED: First kiss

>>CONTACT DESIGNATION UPDATE: CPT. DAVID ALLEN: SUPERVISOR/FRIEND —> LOVER

>>SYSTEM ALERT: Oral sensor overload

>>[SENSORY DATA: SAVED]

>>[SENSORY DATA: SAVED]

>>[SENSORY DATA: SAVED]

It was ecstasy. The synchronous movement of lips. The feel of human touch. The physical reassurance. It was sheer bliss. David pulled away after a while with a shaky laugh. Sixty had forgotten he needed to breathe.

They looked at each other as the human caught his breath. Each simultaneously held the other closer and they fell into a tight hug. Perhaps this was what happiness was… Maybe. Sixty couldn’t be sure. He had never tasted it. He didn’t think he’d ever get to… or if he did, he didn’t think it would last. Good things never did.

David’s phone buzzed from the inside of his jacket. He rearranged Sixty against his side and answered it. A series of angry growls erupted and the man held the phone at arm’s length until they subsided.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine.”

More barking. Sixty couldn’t decipher the words at his default auditory capacity but he thought he recognised the tenor.

“Yes I know he blocked your number. Yes, he’s fine. I got him. I said I GOT HIM. For fuck’s sake, he’s a SWAT agent. He survived a shot through the head, a bit of cold isn’t going to kill-

WHAT? What do you mean no funny busin- I’m a grown-

Okay, I’ll get him home soon.

YES. FINE. BYE.”

David looked down at Sixty. His eyes were fixed on Cyberlife Tower.

“Hey Cinderella, your twin wants you home by midnight. Let’s get into the car before it turns into a pumpkin.”

The RK800 stayed silent, unmoving.

Allen’s phone buzzed multiple times. He declined the call, opting for a quick message instead.

“That was the Reeds. Come on, Six. Let’s get out of here before my phone blows up. Next it’ll be Anderson or Chen or one of your weird friends from Jericho.”

He felt a kiss pressed against his temple, an arm caressing his side… but he remained rooted to the spot… staring at the building he had been created in.

>>SYSTEM HEALTH RECOVERY: Core temperature restored

It didn’t make sense.

How did he just get to walk away now? After a whole year of misery. How was it that everything was going to be alright? Why was there someone wrapped around him? Why were people calling to make sure he was alright? Was he really… loved? Or was he being a fool? As usual.

>>EMOTION RECOGNITION: SCANNING

>>RESULT: [84% AFFECTION; LOVE] [16% ANXIETY]

“Six, you’re more than whatever the fuck went down in that stupid tower. No one holds anything against you. You have nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of.”

David put his hands on his shoulder to steer him towards the parked vehicle. It was an impossible task. Like trying to move a stone pillar.

“You’re really making me jump through hoops tonight, huh, Six?

Okay. What is it you need to hear? Your brothers love you. Your unit loves you. I love you… the only thing you need is for YOU to love you!”

>>SPEECH ANALYSIS: RUNNING

>>RESULT: [GENUINE SENTIMENT; 100% SINCERITY]

Sixty took a minute to steel himself. He tried to make himself believe he was valid… but failed. He had tried though. That was a step bigger than any he had taken before… and that had to count for something.

He tore his eyes away from the imposing monolith and turned to face David completely. There was nothing but understanding in the depths of the dark eyes that were typically closed off and guarded to the outside world.

He let the man take his hand and drive him home.

>>NEW MISSION PARAMETER ADDED: ACHIEVE SELF-LOVE.

[jitter-bug]

Just Like Me

Taglist: @artemisfowl11

Nines x Reader (Detroit: Become Human)

A/n: Did I hear costumes with a plot twist? And 10x scary???👀 so that the request wouldn't be too short ???🔫👀 I certainly fuckin' did. This one is too long. Sorry for rush. I love you :') plz enjoy(plz) I have so many request. And I am getting around to all of them. So don't worry for anyone that's waiting for your request, they will get done I promise! (Plz don't hurt me--)❤ enjoy- p.s I also had a hard time choosing the costume. I wanted something race neutral because as a person of color myself. There's not many couple costumes out there, that...you know. So 😌 uh. I had to run off a limb here for all my POC readers. (Gang gang 😩) (give me feedback if you any more of this, I know some people messaged me about continuing Fear. I don't do series. But I'll do em' we lit over here😩😪💅) p.s.s I edited it to gender neutral, so sorry for any errors-- (donthurtme)

-

"What do you mean, no?" The defeated tone of the detective echoed through the bullpen. Arms crossed as they stared at Hank. He was sitting at his desk. A hand placed on the desk as he stared at the terminal. In a way so he wouldn't have to stare at the perplexed expression of Y/n. 

"Kid. I'm too damn old to be dressing up in costumes." Was his reply. 

Y/n had woken up that very morning. An idea engraved in their brain like their body threatened them to remember it and not let the wonderful idea go. 

The DPD was throwing a Halloween party. Which was really a celebration for Chris, he was finally promoted to being an official Detective, and for his celebration. There would be a themed party. Considering the fact that Halloween was creeping in around the corner. Y/n soon thought that they wanted to wear a costume, with someone that is. They thought sharing laughs or even going to the party dressed as characters would be fun and yet entertaining. Their first thought was Hank. But, he undoubtedly shot the idea down. And declined. Hank saw the unamused expression on their face when he tore his gaze from the terminal. Their fist was planted on his desk. As their hand was on their hip. Their eyebrows furrowed. Giving him a look that he was used to seeing when they helped him speak with suspects in the interrogation room. Though, their expression was not as hard and more so serious.

Connor, who was sitting at his desk. Across from Hank. Stared between the two. His LED teetering back and forth from yellow to stark red. 

"Go ask Gavin." Hank brought up the name that seemed alien to him as he scoffed slightly at his name. Y/n quickly lost their expression before shaking her head. They couldn't say Y/n and Gavin were enemies. But they haven't interacted with each other to a point where Y/n would see themself asking him to join them on their dress up crusade. 

"No." They replied. Hank has been staring at the ceiling. Arms crossed. Once hearing Y/n once again. He landed his gaze back onto them. His index finger tapping his arm. 

"Go ask your partner."

-

Nines stared at Y/n. The two staring right through each other, but Y/n could feel themself crumble under his steel gaze. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. In an attempt to see through Y/n. 

Nines originally was Gavin Reed's partner. Until Chris was recently promoted to a Detective and made to be Gavin's partner. Which pulled Y/n from Hank and Connor, into being Nine's newest partner. 

Before then. They hadn't really interacted with him. Occasional greetings and ludicrous jokes between Y/n and Gavin. In which the rk900 ignored, he never cared to learn much about Y/n- or anyone at the station at that. He was reserved, observant, stern and very stoic. He...lacked certain things other deviant androids had. 

Emotions. 

People around the prescient knew about him. But never spoke to him, reasons being his lack of expressing himself gave people the assumption that Nines was genuinely just a rude android. Which...Y/n could see why. He didn't tolerate childish behavior, at all. Rarely participated in any outings the station threw, such as celebrations if someone was promoted. Birthday parties. Or just a genuine outing to celebrate and catch up with one another. Nines was always at the station, he - In a way deemed to separate himself from others. His eyebrows were always furrowed. In a way to resemble a scowl of some sort...which he always did. 

Of course, Y/n could somewhat tolerate him, once they were paired together, Nines was non-stop pestering Y/n with things they needed to get done, things that weren't done right. He always pointed out the imperfections and mistakes rather than the good. Y/n couldn't say they were exactly friends with the rk900. He made it hard for it to be anything other than being partners. But, today was the day, Y/n decided it would be best to try and find a way through his cold exterior. 

Nines didn't say anything. Y/n held her hands behind her back. The slightest smile trying to make its way onto their face. "So...I was thinking." 

They started. They didn't feel nervous. But rather awkward from the sudden request. Nines didn't say anything. Instead keep his arms behind his back as Y/n slowly sat down on the desk. Planting their hands on their knees. "I was thinking, maybe me and you should go to Chris's celebration together tomorrow night, you know. As partners? Amigos? Buddies?" Y/n reached up. Placing a half-heartedly punch on Nine's shoulder. 

"And. You know. Dress up? Costumes? I'd think you'd enjoy it. You know, you've been really working your heart out for these past few weeks Nines, and I think maybe you would like a break. You know, wind down." They explained. In their head. The explanation was fool-proof. Nines had been working a lot. In fact. The whole station was. With the new cases of Red Ice popping up around Detroit. Everyone had constantly been on their toes. 

"I'm incapable of getting tired, Detective." Nines replied. He turned to fully face Y/n. His arms that were once behind his back, now by his side. 

Y/n felt themself run into a dead end. 

"I know that Nine's I'm not stupid." She muttered. Instead of replying. He only stared at her. Blinking once, that was so it took. Y/n could tell what he was thinking. They sneered.

"That's not funny, I'm serious."

"My apologies. I was unaware I was making a joke--"

"Anyway!" Snapping their fingers to get back on track. Y/n sighed. Rubbing their temple before looking back at Nine's form.

"If. You go to the party with me, and agree to wear a costume with me. I promise I'll stop fooling around on the field." They tried to compromise watching as Nine's was already turning away from her to walk over to his desk. 

"I'll even stop making those lame ass jokes for an entire week. I can't say for..forever, But I mean a week has to be at least decent." They spoke up. Raising their voice so he could listen. 

"A month." Nines said. His back turned from them. But Y/n could see him grabbing stacks of papers and placing them in their designated manilla folders. Y/n stared at his back. Eyebrows furrowed as they tried to piece together what he meant, the rk900 seemed to be aware of how perplexed she was. 

"You'll focus on the assigned case you have, without constantly getting distracted, for a month. If you can agree to that. Then you've found yourself someone to go to the party with."

He explained. Y/n jumped slightly, the excitement shot through them like electricity, sparking them to life. This was new! Certainly new!

"Wait, are you serious? Oh my god!" They squealed. Kicking their feet so hard Y/n was afraid their shoe would fly off, flying across the room. As funny as the scenario might sound, Y/n was too distracted with the offer to worry about anything else. 

"1 month?" They asks. 

"1 month." He repeats. 

"I mean...what about 2 weeks?" They bargained. A month, where they couldn't bullshit around at work. It felt like a sin to Y/n.

"1 month."

"But...Nines that's too long." They tried to whine. But Nines turned around. Holding the folders in his hands. 

"1 month." He repeats.

"2 weeks?"

"1 month."

"....3 weeks?"

"1 month."

"No! Come on. 2 weeks. Take it or leave it!" Y/n shoots their hands in the air. Drastically expressing their distress. But Nines didn't seem to show an ounce of sorrow or care for the matter.

"Do I hear 2 months?"

"Okay, no! 1 month!" 

With what Y/n assumed would be the end of the discussion to Nines. He nods. 

"Okay then. Now. What is it that you have planned?"

-

"Okay. So. I think maybe we should do something scary. 2 years ago. Me and Hank dressed up as clowns, and scared the hell out of Gavin. It was hilarious." Y/n absently spoke. They searched through their phone for ideas that may spark interest in them. Deciding on creating something new and from scratch. 

Nines was busy placing items in Y/n's bag so the two could leave the station and do whatever it was Y/n had in store.

Nines zipped up the bookbag before turning away from the desk to face. Only to find them already examining his form. 

The yellow soon took the place of the blue on his LED. His eyebrows furrowed. 

"What?" He asks. Y/n hummed. 

"I was thinking of what would suit you." They replied. As they spoke Nines handed Y/n their bookbag, which they thanked him before slipping it on over their shoulders. 

"We can head to my house and see ideas from there." Y/n started. Adjusting the straps onto their shoulders as they took several steps forward towards the exit. They didn't have much time from now till tomorrow night, the gears in Y/n's head were turning. What should they do? What should they dress as for their costumes? And most importantly. Make sure Nines had a good night out for his first ever outing. 

Y/n placed the phone back in theirpocket. Before reaching over to unlock the door. They felt Nines walk behind them, swatting and flicking their hand away from the latch to open the door. 

"I'm driving. You get to the passenger side and think about what your plan will be." Nines spoke. Y/n flinched their hand away from the latch. 

"Ow, okay, okay--" they made their way around the car to the passenger side. Y/n was positive the only real reason he wanted Y/n to sit out on driving was because last time they were behind the wheel, a favorite song of theirs that they vaguely remembered from some time ago came on the radio station when they were patrolling the downtown area of Detroit. 

All Y/n could say was how Nines was extremely pissed with their screeching out lyrics that he wasn't paying attention to. More of Y/n's abrupt screaming. Which is why he didn't want them touching the wheel while he was in the car with them.

Slipping inside the car. Y/n closed the door. Hearing from their opposite side that Nines was in the car as well. 

"Keys." He spoke up. Y/n automatically reached in their dress pants pockets in search of the keys. Once feeling the cool metal against their digits. They handed them to Nines. Where as he started the car. 

Y/n slide off their bookbag. And turned to toss it in the back of the car. Where a paper bag was seen lazily balled up on the floor. Seeing the Red Ice cases increased exponentially, there were many stakeouts that Y/n and Nines were assigned to. Sitting out in the car for long periods of time did spike up an appetite in Y/n's stomach every once in a while. Of course, Nines scolded them for not eating before arriving on the scene, but that didn't stop them from getting food. 

Once situated and Nines driving down the street. Y/n slipped their phone back out. 

"So. How do you feel being a butcher?" They asks. Nines stared at the road. Silent for a moment as he contemplated what Y/n said. 

"A butcher..? Odd, how would that in any way be a good costume?" He asks. Y/n placed their phone their lap. 

"Bloody butcher. You know. Kill people? Chop chop? Blood. Chains and all that jazz." They replied. Flipping through the many photos of cheap costumes that would wear out in later than a few months if they were to purchase one.

"I can't make a firm decision on what to wear. You do that." He spoke up. Y/n hummed in acknowledgment. As much as they wanted Nines to choose for himself. He often had a hard time doing so. Of course he did things his own way, but only for a purpose of doing his job. Completing his mission. 

"Well then. Butcher it is," they replied. 

Once making it into the warm house that groped around Y/n with its comforting warmth. Y/n dropped their bookbag on the ground by the couch. Plopping down onto the cushion. And letting out a long needed sigh. They heard Nines close and lock the front door. 

The tension in Y/n's muscles slowly eased its way into relaxation. This wasn't the first time Nines had seen Y/n's place. Only resorting to be at their doorstep to wake them up at ungodly hours for emergency crime scenes that so happened to pop up out of nowhere. Or to drive them home when they are tired to do it half the time themself.

The TV was still on playing from earlier in the morning when Y/n left. On the same channel and same soft spoken volume. 

"Alright. Come on. Sit." They finally mustered up the energy to speak. Nines - who was standing next to the couch, took a seat next to Y/n as they opened their phone once more. 

"So. I was thinking on the way here. A bloody butcher. Both you and I. I think that would be fun." They proclaimed it was some extremely good news. But to Nines, it was more of good news to Y/n, but he didn't say anything. His pale optics pierced Y/n's face. His eyebrows raised slightly. Y/n gave him a smile, one of reassurance. "Oh come on, don't worry. You'll love it. I saw you have a knack for violent things." They chuckled. Moving over to their coffee table to pick up the laptop that was sitting on it. Nines LED flickered a stark red. 

"I'm assuming you would think I'm a violent person because of how I handle things on the field?" It didn't sound like much of a question.

 "Well duh. You do tend to man-handle the hell out of the suspects." Y/n replied. Nines didn't say anything else. Instead, watch as Y/n typed into the computer. After a while. They sat back on the couch and glanced at Nines. 

"This should work out. Not to mention be a good sight for my budget." They said. Y/n turned the laptop around and showed a photo of the costume, which was just general ideas of what items they planned on looking for. 

Nines stared at the screen. His LED circling around. Once. Twice. Before turning yellow. 

"Are you purchasing these from a store?" He asks. Y/n nods. Nines nods as well. 

"Yeah. Tomorrow after work we both are going to go gather the materials to put together the costume. Oh, this should be fun! Believe it or not. Gavin is such a scary cat. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to scare the hell out of him!" They gave a laugh before setting the laptop on the table. 

"But, really Nines. Thanks for agreeing to do this with me. I promise. That when this is all over. I'll not goof around for 1 entire month." They said. Y/n lifted their hand, poking out their pinkie finger. Nines stared at their hand before looking at them.He lifted his hand before pushing Y/n's hand away with his back hand.

"I'll take your word on it, Detective." He says. 

"Oh come on. Don't be like that. Smile for once. My gosh." Y/n lets out a chuckle. Lifting one hand to pull at his cheek. Her thumb tugging at the corner of his right lip in an attempt to tug it upwards. Nines - once again, swatted their hand away from his face. A scowl interrupting his blank expression.

"Stop."

"Whatever, tomorrow. It'll be great, you'll have fun, I promise."

-

Nines watched as Y/n stated at the rack of clothes. Having trouble deciding what Nines would best fit his costume. They decided to purchase his first. The two left the station an hour ago, to get ready for the party that was only 4 hours away. And time was ticking rather quickly with Y/n staring at the rack of clothes as if they had a hard time finding what to wear. 

Nines felt his hand lift up. Rubbing at his temple. His elbow resting on his other arm which was across his torso. 

"Y/n..."

Y/n let out a hum, signalling they heard what he said but kept their gaze on the rack.

"I think this would go by much quicker, if I were to pick out the clothes, and when you get home. You can put them together." He spoke. Y/n turned to face Nines. He saw them cross their arms. 

"Are you calling me slow?" They asks. But, he could tell Y/n wasn't offended by their ack of anger that he so happened to be acquainted with. 

"More, indecisive." He corrected. He saw their eyebrows furrow. But they quickly rose up as they understood what he meant. 

"I'm not having a hard time picking...just--look, this is supposed to be a me and you thing. Partner to partner, friend to friend. You know. So we can spend more time together instead of always yelling at each other like at work."

It was true. Nines and Y/n rarely got a long at work, Nines being a reason for the constant start of an argument between him and Y/n. That being either working on a case. At the station. Or even at a stake out. He always seemed to feed the flame just to spark Y/n's anger into nothing more than a hungry flame ready to lash out at anyone. But that was because Nines wanted things done the way he wanted them done. And Y/n rarely gave him what he wanted...and that was being serious on the job. But the explanation did make sense. More time spent outside to get to know more about each other...or rather spend more time with each other, could lower their rate or going after each other's throats. 

"So, you know. Come on. Let's Both pick our stuff out together." A hint of hope was evident in Y/n's voice. Nines nods, taking several steps forward, to analyse the rack. 

"I think you can do something with this."

-

"Ow! Stop! Stop!" Y/n hissed in pain, feeling Nines peel off the face mask from their face. They tried lifting their hand up to push his hand away. But he was one step ahead. Smacking their hand away for the upteempth time that week. The two finished picking out the clothing and items for their costume, only had 2 hours left to get dressed and ready, a lady that was an entrepreneur and had a clothing line. Gracefully gave Y/n and Nines a discount on what they needed for their costumes. Finding the generous offer kind, Y/n paid more than needed for the clothes, and spent almost half an hour speaking to the woman. Which knocked off much more time than needed. And Nines didn't want any delays in getting dressed - so almost immediately once the two reached Y/n's house. He started laying out stuff so the two could get ready. 

The first step being to peel off the face mask for Y/n so once they put the make up on their face for the costume it wouldn't be mixed with any bacteria and dirt. Which also was a pain in Y/n's ass to feel the mask pulling at their skin. And how Nines didn't seem to care much, instead. Resulting in him snatching off the mask piece by piece.

"You asshole! You're doing that on purpose!" Y/n barked. They reached up to punch Nines in his chest. But was interrupted by him snagging at the mask on their face once again. Placing the pieces in a trash can he took from the kitchen. 

"It shouldn't hurt that bad, stop whining. Or else this will take much longer than needed." He finally spoke up. Y/n sneered slightly as they felt him tilt their head so he could get the rest of the god-forbidden mask that seemed to be glued to their skin. 

After finally getting the pieces peeled off and placed in the trash. Nines stood up to take the trash back to its original spot in the kitchen. Y/n rubbed at their face. The skin feeling somewhat smoother, her pores finally able to get air comfortably. 

"Okay. Happy? The horrible dreadful part, as you quoted, is out of the way." Nines said. As he spoke Y/n mumbled a 'fucking finally' - and stood up. 

"Okay, we have plenty of time, Oh my god, this is going to be fun. Okay!" Almost immediately, Nines saw the excited expression overtake their expression again. Watching as they grabbed one of the bags and tossed it over to Nines. 

"Get dressed. I'll come back in here when I'm done."

Y/n was surprised with how their costume came out. The idea in their mind wasn't as exciting as they once was thinking. But seeing the white knee length apron. Black dress shirt, the tattered jeans that were tucked into the dark rain boots showed that the costume was supposed to resemble some sort of butcher. A few things are missing here and there. But was still proud of how it came out. 

Deciding on going back in the living room to get the last back on the coffee table they remembered leaving on the table. Which contained the makeup and fake blood for the costumes...which of course was supposed to be added last. 

Walking down the hall and into the living room. Which was empty, in which Y/n didn't seem to take surprise. Thinking Nines went off somewhere in the house(such as the bathroom) , go get dressed. They didn't bother calling out for him. Instead, picking up the bag on the table to look through it. Seeing the many items in the bag, having a hard time choosing what to use first, they stared at the back in contemplation. Unaware of the sauntering figure that was creeping up behind them.

Deciding on finding it to be best, wait for Nines to come back and help with choosing what happens next. They places the bag on the table once again. They turned around to go and look for Nines. Only to quickly pause in their movement upon seeing the figure behind them Y/n jumped slightly. Their calves hit the coffee table. 

It was Nines, dressed in the costume, the black apron tied to his waist tightly, instead of a dress shirt that Y/n sported, Nines had on a black turtleneck, which really fit with the costume. Y/n could see the chains wrapped around his wrist, the sound of the metal clanking against each other. 

They saw the pig mask, the one Y/n picked out because Y/n found it oddly suiting Nines. The boar's head seemed pretty realistic, the blemishes and red markings on the facial area wavered Y/n's sense of security. They could barely see his eyes through the mask...where the eyes are of course.

"Jeez. You scared me there for a second." Y/n mumbled. 

But, Nines didn't say anything. The feeling of his form towering over Y/n, made them realize how some suspects the two brought in everyday had to face his wrath in an interrogation...or just a simple ass kicking. From what Y/n remembers. Nines never lost in a single fight. 

"Is this your way in trying to scare me? If so. It's not working." They let out a chuckle, which was half-heartedly. Nines - instead of replying. Let out a grunt. Which Y/n could deem animalistic. Y/n flinched. Shooting him a glare in a way to get him to knock off whatever he was pulling. 

"The hell? Did you growl at me?" They spat. Instead of - once again. Not replying. Nines turned around to walk off down the hall where the bathroom was located. 

"Where are you going?" They asks. There was no reply. Only the sound of the chains clanking against each other and the squeaking of the rainboots answered them question. 

"..." Y/n felt their eyebrow twitch. Almost a second letter. Nines came back out the hall. Looking the same, except holding the boars mask in his hand, which he didn't seem to have any interest in wearing. 

"Dude, what the hell?" 

Nines looked at Y/n. His LED flickering to yellow almost instantly. He raised an eyebrow; "is there a problem?" He asks. Y/n scrunched their nose up and nodded. 

"Uh, yeah. You were just out here - not even a minute ago. You just walked off. Not to mention, growled at me." They answered. Y/n saw the LED on Nines temple slowly circled to the stark red, his eyebrows furrowed. 

"I was in the bathroom all this time." He said. Y/n only gave him a blank expression. Which only remsebled an expression that they didn't believe what he said. 

"I was--"

"Anyway. Come on. Let's put this last bit of stuff on so we can leave."

-

"You're getting blood everywhere." Nines informed. Watching as Y/n drove down the ride they tried sitting themselves in the seat comfortably so the fake blood on the apron wouldn't smear on the car seat. It would be a pain to get it out. 

"I know that, Nines. Shut up, pighead. Besides, it's not even real." They muttered. Nines lifted the corner of his lip in a way to sneer. 

"Hilarious. I almost forgot to laugh at that one."

"You forget to laugh everyday." They quickly shot back. Nines only rubbed his temple with a sigh. "You truly are a mess." He sighs. Y/n laughed, keeping their eyes on the road. 

"You're damn right, a hot mess. Trust me. Tonight will be fun! Don't worry, really!" Nines didn't reply. Instead watched the road and the many buildings that passed by. His gray optics flickered over to Y/n. Spending an entire day with his partner did have its ups and downs. But it wasn't as life-threatening as he thought it would be. 

"So. Are you enjoying yourself so far? You know. Being costume twins and all. I think it's fun." Y/n asked. Nines tapped his index finger in his knee. 

"Rather childish. But if it can get you to stop quiping me about dressing up with you. I guess this won't be too bad." He responds. Hearing Y/n tap the wheel with their fingers. 

"Thanks for doing this with me, really. Maybe tonight you and I can go and get something to eat."

"I don't eat."

"....I mean. You could at least act like you do. Like jeez, what the hell." They muttered. Once again, complaining. Mumbling about. "Just stuff the food in your mouth and spit it out. Make it seem like you can or something--"

"Alright--okay. I'll take you out to dinner tonight. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Nines finally spoke up. Interrupting her from her charades of complaining. Almost quickly, a smile replaced their frown. 

"Yes, sir. That's exactly what I want to hear. You. Nines. My partner. Taking me to get dinner." They quipped. Nines glanced at them. Shaking his head slowly. 

"Holy shit!" Gavin stared at the two. Watching as Nines was busy behind Y/n speaking to Hank from behind the boar's mask. A smile graced Hank's lips. His hands on his hips. He didn't dress as anything like the majority of the people did. Instead...well...showing up in his casual clothes. 

"Wow. Next year. Me and you and dressing up together." Gavin nudged Y/n's shoulder. Causing them to chuckle. 

"I mean. I was going around the office asking people. And they either were dressing up as something already, or were dressing up as something already. Same thing. I know." They grinned, already knowing what Gavin was about to say. 

"You didn't ask me you little shit!"

"Oops?"

Gavin rolled his eyes. Swatting his hands in a way to shoo the conversation away. "Nines look terrifying as hell." He looked over at their partner who was still speaking with Hank. Y/n nods. 

"I'm not surprised. You're scared of everything." She said. Gavin shot her a look. 

"Hey, plastic-prick. Over here!" Gavin snaps his fingers. Y/n saw Nines look away from Hank. And over to Gavin. Hank looked over as well. Nines walked over to the two. Once in earshot he turned his head away from Y/n to look at Gavin. 

"Yes?" He asks. Gavin flicked the boar's snout.

"Sup." 

"I don't know what I expected wasting my time walking over here." Nines muttered. Gavin laughs. Almost immediately, Nines jumped towards Gavin. Which also startled Y/n. The two shrieked at the sudden action from Nines. Hearing Hank laugh in the background was what pulled Gavin from his pose. Which he moved to grip Y/n's shoulder. In a pose like he was hiding behind them.

"You Jackass!" Gavin shouts. Hank howled with laughter. Walking over to give Nines a pat on the back. 

"Good one!" 

Y/n felt their heartbeat in their chest like drums. They couldn't find an exact reason why they got jumpy. Letting out a sigh as they placed a hand on their chest. Hearing Gavin bicker in the background along the lines of "I'll fucking end you!"

Meanwhile, Y/n stared across the street. Which had a good view of an alleyway. Seeing two figures facing each other. Once being noticeably shorter than the other.  The short figure...which the two really resemble the silhouette from the lack of light in the area (considering the sun had set) the short figure seemed to be pointing its finger at the taller figure's chest. From the body movements the person seemed to be angry. As on the other hand the taller figure - standing still and stiff as a plank just stood there. 

Y/n watched for a few more moments. Whatever commotion they were hearing on their side of the street was muffled to them.

Soon, the short figure head turned towards the direction Y/n was in - across the street. Which the taller figure took notice of. The two stared at them. The tall figure seemed to tap its leg. Causing the short figure the scurry off somewhere in the shadows of the alleyway. 

Raising a hand. The tall figure that was left in the alleyway waved. Y/n furrowed their eyebrows. 

Who the hell was that?

"Y/n! Come on, get your ass in here before you freeze!" Y/n heard Hank shout from the door. Y/n quickly snapped from their clouded reality. Looking at Hank who was holding the door open. Shoot a gaze back at the alley, only to see nothing. 

-

"And I said. Give me my shit. Or I'll put a foot up your ass." Gavin said. The booth that was placed in the back of the room, either chuckled, laughed or said commented on his story. Which was Chris. 

"Honestly. I wouldn't be too surprised if she got a restraining order on your crazy ass." Chris chuckled. Gavin only shot him a large grin. Chris's wife smiled at the two. Shaking their head. The majority of the party dressed up. Either it being werewolves, vampires, zombies. It was something...despite the fact that one of the officers came with a macaroni box. 

The booth sat, Connor, Hank, Nines, Y/n, Gavin, Chris and his wife. Drinks were passed, and also laughs. (Will except from Nines of course)

The night was smooth. And not to mention fun. 

Y/n, still kept tethering back and forth from the odd altercation at home with Nines. And from what they saw in the alleyway. 

Nines sat next to them. Listening to Gavin speak. On and on. 

"So. Are you two still together or not?" Chris asked. Gavin's and his significant other had...somewhat of a toxic relationship. Constant fighting, either it be verbal or...from what Gavin didn't want to admit. But it was obvious. Physical. From both parties. But, Y/n never really intervened. It wasn't their business. So they didn't care much about it. Though the stories were funny. 

Digging into their pockets in search of their phone. They didn't feel it. Taking note they must have left it outside in the car. 

"I'll be right back. I have to go get my phone."

-

Sitting in the driver's seat. Y/n checked to see if the device was at a proper percentage. She closed the car door and sighed. Scrolling through it sees nothing new. They turned around to face the building to return. They stopped and looked up. Seeing a figure by the light pole in front of them The figure had the same costume as Y/n. The apron. The boots. Pants. Looking up they saw...the same face. It was Y/n!

The dark circles under the eyes were much noticeable. The blue surgical mask covered the lower half of the person's face. But Y/n wasn't stupid. They saw themself many times in the mirror to tell who it was. And every strand of hair on the person's head. Could tell that certainly was Y/n. 

The e/c eyes stared at Y/n's form. Boring into their face. A feeling they similarly got only from Nines.  But the gaze coming from..them, made Y/n freeze.

Staring at the person. It was like an exact replica, a doppelganger. 

Y/n could hear the sounds coming from the person. A muffled purr of some sort, scuffling shoes. It couldn't seem to stand still.

"...who are you--" Y/n was cut off by the doppelganger launching itself towards them - gripping the side of their face. It's nails digging into their skin. Y/n let out a surprised scream. Hearing the strained grumbles and grows coming from the thing on top of them.

Y/n felt themself land on the ground. The concrete knocking the wind from their body. Y/n was more surprised than scared. Of course they had many hand to hand combat on the field. But this didn't feel right at all.

Acting quick and raising an arm to shove off the doppelganger. Switching sides as they were now on top of the person, straddling it by the hips, Y/n felt it shift and swing an arm. Y/n quickly backed off of the person in an attempt to not get hit. It had a knife. Making it clear that it was meaning to harm Y/n. Y/n quickly backpedaled and stood up.  The sound of their huffing and puffing. And both of their shoes scuffling on the pavement. The person stood up. Shaking itself as if to remove the dirt that collected on its shirt from the pavement.

"Y/n. What's ta-"

"Okay, so Nines! There's some weird shit going on!" Y/n jogged over to the door that Nines held open. He was now staring at Y/n's doppelganger who quickly had stood up staring at the two. Once it made eye contact with Nines. It seemed to stop in its former actions and stare, before scurrying away down the sidewalk. 

"Who was that? What's going on?" He asks. Y/n shoved Nines into the building as he spoke. 

"I don't know! But we have to do something!" She shouts. The LED on Nines temple was flickering from red to yellow. Y/n was already making their way towards the booth. 

"Hank. You would not believe this. But I just got attacked by my own self. We need to find out what's going on." Y/n interrupted whatever conversation he was having with the group at the table. Connor was the first to look over. 

"Yourself?"

"Yes! Now come on. This is serious." Hank could tell whether or not Y/n was joking or not. Which...truly wasn't that hard to tell if they were. He stood up from the booth, luckily he was seated on the outside. 

"What's going on?" 

Nines soon made his way over to the table. 

"I was attacked by someone who looked exactly like me. Which, that can explain what happened earlier today. But! I have a crazy ass doppelganger!"

"Oh Christ." Hank muttered. Crossing his arms and looking at Y/n and then at Nines. And back at Y/n.

Gavin soon stood up.

"Oh, I have to see this." He spoke up. Hank ignored the man and looked back at Y/n. "Where did you last see this person."

"When I was outside. It attacked me--"

"The hell? Did you go after them?"

"No. They ran away before I can even do anything." Hank nods. Snapping his finger and pointing towards the exit.

"To the car. Let's go. Connor. Come on." Connor stoop up and stood next to Hank.

"Looks like we got some searching to do."

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand?

Chapter 1/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Connor knows he isn’t the most.. knowledgeable... about emotions but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand them ever. If they weren’t going to take him seriously then he wasn’t even going to try interacting with them anymore. What could possibly go wrong?

Tw: I’m placing all possible tws here that could apply to the story. Possible ableism (this is not explicit but what Connor goes through can be similar to it), dissociation, very emotionally harmful coping mechanisms. Self worth problems. Trauma responses that go unnoticed. Please let me know if I need to add any more.

This started as a vent fic that extended outward into comfort, it gets worse before it gets better.

Notes: This is my first multi chaptered fic, I’ve never done this before. I did write the whole story in entirety prior and scheduled the other chapters to slowly release. The original vent was honestly quite different than what ended up being written, and I don’t know how it turned into this huge thing.

Also: There are no ships in this, this is all platonic. The only relationship status is that Hank is Connor’s dad even if they don’t quite acknowledge it.

Also also: This is Connor Pov. We mainly focusing on his thought processes throughout and they aren’t particularly healthy. (Connor also has ADHD)

---

Connor knew he had trouble expressing and understanding his emotions. It wasn't a secret. He'd often find people looking at him with confusion, and sometimes wariness, with his lack of response to many things. He was a prototype. Sure he had one of the most advanced social relations software to date, but Cyberlife cut corners with the amount of articulation his face could produce, his current model wasn't meant to live long and to be disposable after all.

It doesn't help that he also just didn't know how to express what he was feeling in the limited ways he could. He "lived" most of his trial runs and current time in severe denial out of fear of deactivation so he'd rather ignore them than process them. It wasn't healthy but it was safe. Familiar.

That didn't mean he couldn't feel. He felt lots of things like guilt, hatred, fear, the occasional spark of joy. Too many things sometimes, in fact, that led him to having a nasty habit of adamantly ignoring it all, manually storing it away for later to keep his composer and stay in fully functioning order. Sure this led to people often ignoring his own desires and doing things that severely hurt him with no mention from him. But he was fine. He chose this after all. 

However, even with all the quarantining and ignoring, he couldn't help the anger that bubbled under his skin and in his throat right now. 

"Hank, I understand that you're angry but-" 

"You think you understand? You don't understand a shit, Connor! How could you?! I get you're your own person and everything now, but I never see you express anything beyond mild displeasure!" Hank yelled back. Connor was glad they were at Hank's house at least to provide some sense of privacy but saying he felt unhappiness at being yelled at was an understatement. 

Connor went to open his mouth in defense but Hank cut him off, "Of course you don't understand! How could you ever understand any emotions! You keep acting like a-" he suddenly went quiet, but Connor knew. 

"Like a what, Lieutenant?" He asked, making sure to keep his LED a yellow slow turn, but he couldn't help how sharp his voice came out, how his eyes hardened to a fine point. 

They stared at each other for several tense seconds before Hank seemed to deflate a bit and looked ashamed. 

"Like a machine," he spat out, still tense and upset but his fury gone. 

Connor simply nodded, quarantining what he could to not lash out and stood up silently. 

"I will be taking Sumo out for a walk to allow for us to take a breather before we both do something we regret. I will return," he said, shoulders tense and voice strict. His movements felt stiff as he tried to hold himself back from continuing this fight, grabbing the leash and patting his side to call over the old dog. 

"You can't just run away-" Hank tried, stepping closer as if to grab Connor's arm to stop him. But Connor's ice cold glare, almost threatening posture and clenched fists seemed to stop him. They kept forgetting that Connor wasn't just meant for integration but also intimidation, he once was a deviant (killer) hunter after all, and he can be intimidating when he so pleased. Hank seemed to suddenly remember the rumors of Gavin getting his ass handed to him by Connor in under a minute flat by how he backed away uncertain.

Connor left and came back a bit over half an hour later. Hank would apologize and Connor would accept it, even if that anger still simmered deep inside, and they'd go back to joking and discussing work matters like nothing happened. Friends sometimes fight after all. It was fine.

Despite how much Connor hated those accusations of him being incapable of understanding, they. Kept. Happening. 

Not just with Hank but others as well. The people who he thought were his friends, the Jericrew, even Nines the RK900, kept pulling the same shit. Connor knew they all experienced deviancy differently than him, Nines also had the gift of a face with full articulation that he couldn't help but envy, but it irked him every time. 

"Let's switch topics for Connor..."

"Oh I should have talked about this with someone else..."

"It was rude of me to assume you understand-" 

"Oh.. Sorry I know you don't understand-"

"You know he doesn't understand-"

"He won't understand-"

"He can't understand-" 

Each time he heard that word, understand, Connor felt that broiling anger rise just a bit more. Each time they never even asked how he felt before the assumption, he felt his trust disintegrate bit by bit. He was a master of masking his emotions to get the emotional responses he wanted, but even he had a limit when anytime he saw his friends he felt nothing but hateful bitterness below his false pleasantries. He even stopped willfully hanging out with all of them, even Hank, as it grew harder to fight down the urge to scream and yell and make them understand. 

It all came to a head during a meeting with the Jericho leaders, Nines tagged along as well as he said how much he missed seeing him outside of work. They were discussing how to handle the androids that still had severely negative responses to humans after all this time since the revolution. He was in the middle of talking about a solution of creating areas in New Jericho that would absolutely not allow humans and could run independently when North rounded on him.

"I'm sorry," in a very much not sorry tone, "but how am I supposed to take your option any bit seriously when you don't understand any of these androids' struggles mister 'my best friend is a human'."

"North-" Markus warned. The others even tensed up staring at Connor.

"No seriously. He could never understand their struggles," North plowed forward with no hesitation. 

Connor felt something snap inside of him. He felt his LED burn bright red, his back straighten, fists clenched, and his features shift into that bitter anger that he tried his best to keep under wraps. He could see how everyone grew more than just tense but wary even; he even saw a flash of fear in North's eyes. 

They insisted he was nothing more than a machine who didn't understand. That he'll forever be Cyberlife's pet (killer) deviant hunter. So he'll show them the hunter that was conditioned, threatened, who thrived on his own anger and fear through every grueling training session. The side that he kept pushed down as much as he could. 

He couldn't help the bitter laugh that came out of him, "understand... You know what? I'm starting to think I fucking hate that word." 

He knew he was scaring them with how North backed away quickly and the others started coming forward as if to protect her from him. His anger worsened at that but a small part of him felt a bit of twisted satisfaction at how they're finally treating him seriously. He could even imagine Amanda whispering praises for being the threat they wanted from the back of his CPU. 

"Has it never occurred to you that I might have problems with humans as well?" His hands expressed where his face couldn't, trying to contain the energy thrumming in his body, "has it never occurred to you what I might have gone through hm? 

“Oh wait. You never asked. You only accused. Have you ever thought about how my serial number has a 54 at the end of it? Did it ever occur to you that I have to exist with the memory of 53 deactivations constantly and the fear that I might be the 54th for merely breathing wrong? Who do you think did that? Who do you think reminded me day in and out that I was nothing but an expendable machine made to kill, to never ask questions because it meant deactivation or my internals torn out while I was awake. Humans. Humans did that but no, just because I trusted Hank not to do the same, I don't understand?" 

He knew he was slowly growing erratic and unstable with how aggressively his hands moved and the way everyone backed away from him. The way he loomed over them with his presence didn't help their nerves he was sure. Or how he slowly stalked towards them as if a predator was cornering its prey. But he couldn't help it, the thrumming pulse in his core needed to come out and by hell was it coming out now. 

"Not only that, but I apparently don't understand emotions too! I may be a deviant but emotions? They're off the table!" He couldn't help the second bitter laugh, a tinge hysterical, "no no. None of you took the time to ask me how I was handling these emotions and instead just assumed I didn't feel them! Because I'm ‘just a machine’. This guilt, fear, and self hatred I feel every waking moment? Lies because I'm just a machine. Even this anger I'm expressing right now? These are lies too aren't they? The nightmares I get of my countless deactivations and the numerous deaths that stain my hands? All just my programs malfunctioning because I'm just. A. Machine." 

"We didn't... Connor we didn't know-" Nines started, his sadness and fear clear as day on his face like how they wanted Connor's to be. The others were solemnly nodding along too as if this would appease him. 

"Because you never. Asked. Because none of you ever truly fucking cared!" Connor roared in response, slamming a fist down on the metal table next to him. All their eyes snapped and starred at the large dent he knew he left behind but he didn't care. He let himself breathe heavily, taking a second to find himself and his self restraint again. 

And just like that, he locked up those pesky emotions like everyone expected him to. He knew the people before him didn't actually desire him to show any negative emotions just like them, they proved it just now with how they're looking at him. He took one final deep breath, fixed his tie and let his face slip back into its emotionless mask except the cold, closed off glare didn't leave. He even felt that that was going to be a permanent feature now after today and couldn't help the internal chuckle at the irony how he finally was showing the emotions they desperately wanted him to show.

No one said anything as he moved towards the door. There was still tension in the air, fear, anger and confusion swirled in various manners of their eyes. Nines seemed split on treating him like a threat and reaching out to him, maybe even to pity him. Markus also looked like he wanted to say something, but he just looked away in the end. North had fearful eyes but a look that seemed to say 'I was right we couldn't trust him'. Josh held Simon behind him, and he looked almost sad if his distrust didn't say otherwise. Simon refused to take his eyes off the clear fist shaped dent in the table, still as a statue. Connor vaguely wondered if they'd replace that table because of him just like how they so easily replaced him with Nines when given the chance.

No one made a move to stop him from leaving. He couldn't tell if it was out of fear of him showing those (killer) hunter colors again by snapping an arm or if they're realizing just how badly they fucked up. He couldn't tell which choice he wanted more either. He hoped it was the latter.

"You're all hypocrites. To me, you're all no better than them," was the last thing he hissed out before slamming the door closed behind him. He heard the way the frame and wall around the door shook and cracked from the force but again, he didn't care. He wasn't going to play nice anymore if this was how they felt like treating him. He was programmed to be amiable, calm but he was also programmed to be obedient and he knew how that went. A bit of anxiety existed of how much damage he did and how easily he almost lost control back there, but he just ignored it again as he rushed down the hall to leave. 

No one followed him.

[fandom-necromancer]

I want to tell the world I love you

This was prompted by a wonderful anon! Enjoy! It is very angst but it has a happy ending, don’t worry!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Overprotectiveness, panic attack, internalised homophobia (+struggle to overcome it))

It was a slow day at the precinct and Gavin hated it. Sure it was nice not having to work every single second of your shift and still leave something for the next day, but the opposite wasn’t that nice either. He spent his day resisting the temptation to play on his phone, looked over his reports to find errors or change a sentence to better convey the message. He filed the pictures he had taken for evidence. He watered the lone cactus on his desk. He got himself a coffee. He watched Nines, who caught his drift and smiled back. That had made it a bit better, but still frustration and boredom settled in. He just wanted something to do or go home and the more he looked around the precinct aimlessly, the more random things annoyed him. The way he could hear Chris’ nose whistle barely audible, but being unable to not focus on that now that he caught on. The way Tina brushed through her hair the fifth time in a minute. The ringing of somebodies telephone for at least two rings too many… Gavin knew it himself, this was one of the days he would randomly explode on people again. And that made him even angrier. ‘Phhhck’, he sighed silently to himself and massaged his temples trying to force himself to relax. But the tension stayed and the frustration continued to nibble at him and he was seconds away from screaming at someone, something, anything to make it stop and have something to work on.

And apparently the universe had decided to throw Connor his way. Gavin looked up if only in the hope that the change would mean the bot got something for them, but the RK800 didn’t even look at him walking straight up to Nines and banging his hands on his table. Nines looked at them, then at Connor and turned in his rolling chair. ‘Is it true?’, Connor asked. Nines looked at him questioning. That one sleek brow lifted over stern eyes. ‘You’, Connor jerked his head in Gavin’s general direction. ‘and him?’ ‘What?’ Nines was now sitting ram-rod straight, glancing over to Gavin, who had simply froze for lack of better word. ‘Err… What do you mean? Con, I-‘ But Connor wasn’t taking it, stepping beside the table and grabbing Nines wrist, pulling his hand from the keyboard in the process. Gavin reeled back as he saw Nines’ LED dip to red and stay there while his skin was pushed away from where Connor’s hand connected.

A forced interface. Gavin knew what he was seeing, Nines had done this a few times with unresponsive androids. The way the other’s skin didn’t retract but was forcefully shoved aside. This… This wasn’t right, Connor had no right to do this and Nines wouldn’t allow him- ‘So it is true!’ Seldomly had Connor been this loud or angry. ‘You and this wretched human! This robophobic piece of shit, who held me at gunpoint twice and punched me on the first day? Really? Did you forget how he treated you? Did you?’ ‘Connor, I-‘ ‘What are you two doing, hmm?’ Connor leaned forwards and his grip on Nines was like a vice. His face went blank. ‘So you two are already fucking? Nines, I can’t believe it. How on earth could you let him use you like that? Do you think he loves you? Nines, he is playing with you, can’t you see that? There is no way someone like him will ever change and you should really know better than-‘ Nines didn’t allow him to speak any further. His free hand slapped on top of Connor’s and closed around his hull strong enough to indent it with an ugly crunch. ‘Don’t you dare say that’, he hissed. ‘Don’t you dare say that if you know nothing about us. When was the last time you two spoke a word with each other? When was the last time you re-evaluated your picture of Gav-‘

Right. Gavin. Gavin, who had told him to keep their relationship a secret at all costs. Gavin who had only recently had started showing his emotions, who had taken more than one night spent talking that it was okay to be friends, that it was okay to be more than friends even, that loving a man wasn’t wrong like his family had taught him, that Nines would be there for him and that a slow pace was fine, that… That it was completely fine if their relationship stayed at home, that they didn’t openly show affection and that both of them feeling safe and comfortable was more important than all expectations.

Nines let go of Connor, his priorities changing to see if his partner was alright. But Gavin’s chair was empty. His jacket was hanging over the back of his seat, that had turned as if left in a quick escape. The keys to his bike were gone from their usual spot and Nines didn’t need more information than that to leave his predecessor – because brother really didn’t fit right now – behind and go after his human.

He managed to intercept him on his way out of the parking lot. ‘Gavin!’, he called out. ‘Gavin, please!’ And the man stopped. The engine was still running, gently chugging along without a care in the world, making Nines all the more desperate. ‘Nines.’ His eyes were still wide and unfocussed, it would be irresponsible for Nines to let him drive, but it would be even more detrimental to make him stay. ‘Nines, I-I-I… I can’t.’ His breath was quick and irregular, barely enough to sustain him. He must feel like suffocating right now. ‘Gavin, I didn’t want to. He forced it. I. I would never tell anyone. I promised you!’ ‘I know’, Gavin breathed out, his voice nearly drowned out by the engine sounds. ‘I know and I… I trust you still but… I can’t. I can’t take it. I shouldn’t want it, it’s wrong and I… Con is right and…’ ‘Breathe’, Nines said calmly despite his own stress. Gavin needed him. And he breathed. ‘We can’t be together’, unfortunately were the next words that left his mouth as he had enough air again to talk. ‘We just can’t. I can’t. I want but I… It’s better that way.’ It is not, Nines wanted to say but didn’t. ‘I love you’, was what he said instead, disappointed, knowing it wouldn’t change anything. ‘I know.’ There were the tears. ‘I… I love you, too. But I can’t. I… You shouldn’t have to wait for me, you deserve someone nice, someone less broken and wrong and-‘ ‘Gavin!’ Nines couldn’t help but make him stop. He wouldn’t let him say it. ‘Gavin, you are perfect. You are. Please. Please, I beg you, stay and let’s talk!’ The man looked up at him out of swollen eyes and Nines would never be able to forget the way he looked at him, sad, grieving and worst of all believing everything he had said about himself.

And then he let the engine roar up and drive him away, leaving Nines standing alone in the parking lot.

-

He didn’t know how long he had stayed there. He just remembered eventually walking back inside the building, because really, there was no reason for him to stand there any longer, was there? It’s not like that motorcycle would reappear magically, that Gavin would come back and kiss him like he had so many times at home. Would they ever do that again? He didn’t dare to think such thoughts. No. Work. Work was what he needed. Something to keep him occupied, because if he had a free minute, he would think and thinking lead to ideas and Nines knew they wouldn’t be good at all. No, Nines couldn’t afford himself to be himself right now, else he would likely self-destruct on the spot. No, he went inside, ignored the looks and quiet questions, sat down at their – his - desk and interfaced with his terminal, concentrating on being RK900 only and digging up every unsolved case from their databanks.

The numbness was a blessing. Overworking his processors with wild pre-constructions that would ultimately lead to nothing left no room for Gavin. For his concerns whether he had made it home safely. For stray thoughts imagining him sitting at home alone, crying. Maybe drinking. Maybe worse. No, there were only murders and Red Ice and kidnappings and no end in sight. So, when Connor approached him and said something it took a while for the message to reach his systems. ‘/’m s0rry-.+’’#..||- I dIdn’t me@n t..-~ I c0uldn’t knw{-=-_.. I sh0uldn’t h@ve. I want t# apologise. Nines please listen to me.’ ‘I believe you said enough’, Nines spoke without intonation through heavy static. ‘Really, you can’t imagine-‘ His voicebox cut out and Nines laid all of his anger, sadness and fury into his stare while it restarted. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like a simple apology could bring you absolution!’ With that he stormed off to the evidence room and locked himself in. This way there would be no further disturbances and he could again dive deep into the systems. Time didn’t matter, it’s not like he had anyone to go home to anymore. Their shift ended, the next had begun and Gavin had called in sick for the next day somewhere around 2 AM. Nines didn’t care. He simply pushed deeper, the clear orderly systems of the precinct a welcoming blanket to wrap his own chaos into.

-

Connor sat on the couch, mindlessly petting Sumo. He had never seen Nines like this. They had argued before. They had yelled at each other. It was normal. But this time something had changed. He had messed up badly. Even Hank ghosted him, telling him to set it right or not, but not to involve him in their fights as he would refuse to pick a side. He had just wanted to protect his brother! When he had overheard Nines and Hank talk about it, he had simply been concerned. He had only ever seen Gavin as the anti-android nuisance that couldn’t stay in his own lane. The arrogant man that only cared for his career. The guy without many friends because he never let anyone close enough to actually see beyond what was clearly your typical schoolyard bully grown up and misplaced in the police force. he didn’t want his brother to be pulled in for a prank. He hadn’t wanted his brother’s feelings to be run over by the truck that was human rottenness. He hadn’t – not even for a single moment – thought about the possibility that it was something genuine. That Nines really did love that man and that Gavin returned it. He hadn’t even taken into account it could be a chance. And he had hurt not only Nines’ feelings, but seemingly also ruined what had made them both happy. Some kind of brother he was… RA9, how could he set this right? He had to do something, it was his own fault, his doing alone. But how would he even begin? Nines didn’t let himself be talked to, Connor couldn’t even blame him for it. But Gavin… he couldn’t imagine the human to let him in, much less to actually listen or even consider his apology. But he had to do something and maybe even something as futile as this was better than doing nothing at all.

Statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place. He remembered thinking like this during the revolution. He prayed to whoever was listening that it would prove true another time as he knocked at the door. To his surprise the wood gave way at the impact and opened a fraction. The lock was broken, a footprint underneath telling him everything he needed to know. ‘Gavin?’, he asked as he tentatively opened the front door a little more and stepped in. ‘It’s me… Connor.’ He winced, bracing for the human to come running at him with something sharp. But his only response was a very weak, very drunken: ‘Phck off.’ So no threat at least. And he was a lot further down his plan as he had ever thought to come. ‘Gavin, I came to apologise. ‘Phhhhck oooff. Don wanna talk with ya plastic shit ass.’ ‘Very eloquently put’, Connor commented, before he could catch himself. He had made it to the kitchen, where Gavin sat next to the open fridge wrapped in Nines’ old Cyberlife jacket and multiple bottles – all of them empty, one of them shattered - to his side. ‘I sssay whatIwant, thisis my houssse.’ ‘I get it.’ Gavin blinked against the clearly too bright kitchen light and furrowed his brows in tired anger. ‘Get. Out.’ He prepared to throw the bottle in his hand at Connor, who quickly lifted his hands. ‘Hey, watch out, this one’s still full. I guess you wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good alcohol on me.’ He hadn’t known it would work, but it did, as Gavin looked at the bottle then to the empty stack next to him, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the effort as he took another chug. ‘Fine. Whaddaya want?’

‘Apologise. It wasn’t my right to say that.’ ‘Yer damn right, asshole.’ ‘I didn’t believe you two really were in love.’ ‘Didn’t believe it either’, Gavin slurred. And as Connor didn’t respond, he continued. ‘I mean me? With a guy like him? God, I thought I was dreaming.’ ‘Really?’ Connor dared to sit down on the floor opposite of the man that had leaned back his head against the wall, smiling completely lovelorn. ‘Of course. I’m n asshole. I can’t keep friends. Think they don’t really like me, just pretend. Destroyed every single one so far. Forced myself to be with girls, y’know, thought that I’d learn with time. So then, Nines comes up and is perfect, feels perfect, cares and… Nah, didn’t believe it. Told him upfront he would get factory second. Y’know, like a decent man. Told him all my problems and stuff and he still stayed. Agreed to all. First time in my life someone heard that and stuck around.’ ‘And I messed it up?’ ‘Yeah. Big time.’

Connor shuffled uncomfortably. The open refrigerator made it far colder than it needed to be. ‘How can I repair the damage?’ ‘You can’t. You… You were the source but I… I panicked and broke up with him.’ ‘But maybe I could-‘ ‘No. I have to man up, go there and tell him I love him still. That I will phcking commit, that I’ll send my parents to hell and my childhood memories right with them. That this is me and only me and that I want him like my gay ass should. But I can’t. I am phcking drunk and that’s the only way I can say that without freezing or panicking or building up walls or-‘ ‘What if I drive you to the precinct right now?’ That seemed to be too much for Gavin’s inebriated brain and Connor waited for an answer. ‘Nines is still at work?’, he slurred, obviously confused. ‘Yes.’ ‘Yess… That’s… That’s a good idea… Just… Phck…’ Gavin made it surprisingly fast to his feet and to the kitchen sink before emptying his stomach into it. Connor was next to him in an instant, holding him upright and helping him clean up afterwards. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drive Gavin back to the precinct like this, but if this was the only way to right his mistakes, he would gladly do it. And besides, the night shift likely had seen worse already.

Gavin was still in Nines jacket as Connor helped him out of the car and guided him to the back entrance meant for supplies and smoke breaks. It wasn’t that far to the evidence rooms from there and Connor managed to get him inside without anyone really noticing. He tried to open the door to where Nines had locked himself in but was declined. ‘Go away Connor.’ The voice alone was what let Gavin next to him perk up and brace against the wall. ‘Nines? Nines, please, can you hear me? I love you. And I was an idiot, I panicked and I-‘ The door was ripped open in a heartbeat and there was Nines, catching Gavin by the shoulders and pressing him in a close hug. ‘Gavin!’ ‘I’m so sorry, I love you and I didn’t mean what I said, I panicked, and you know I say shitty things then, I need… I need you and I want you and phck everyone’s opinion, I am allowed to have you and I can do whatever the hell I want!’ ‘Yes’, Nines gently whispered. ‘Yes, of course. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told-‘ ‘No. Phck this! I want to tell everyone, and they will have to accept this shit! God pcking damnit!’ ‘Okay, but let’s wait with that until you are sober, okay? Come here.’ Nines drew gentle circles on his back and relished in the feeling of having his human – his – here in his arms and hold him and tell him he was safe and loved and cherished. He didn’t even know what he had murmured n the end of it, but it had made Gavin slump against him and fall half asleep in his arms. Nines decided then to retreat back into the evidence room. He did shoot Connor one last glance, grateful for bringing Gavin back to him, but also implying this would have repercussions as soon as their minds had settled.

Connor just swallowed, nodded and left them to it. He guessed he had deserved that.

[dxppercxdxver]

A Note on the Use of Distance, Or: The Evolution of Nines's and Gavin's Relationship as Seen Through Body Language and Physical Proximity, Or: Sparrow Writes 6k About DE That Is Literally Just a Narrative Analysis

Apologies in advance, this is gonna be a long one. If you stick to it and read the whole thing, I will love you forever. (Also, @domlerrys, I’m tagging you because we talk about meta a lot and I think you’ll like this.)

And Michelle, I’m sorry for the length, but there’s just so much to talk about, I had to. Also, “brevity” is not in my vocabulary. Oops. (I’m also sure you know most of this already, but I had a blast analyzing this.)

So, it’s been about a month, and I think it’s about time I typed up some of my thoughts about the use of distance in Detroit Evolution. (For those of you who haven’t seen it yet, 1) What are you doing? 2) Go check it out, it’s a beautiful feature fan film made by the lovely people at @octopunkmedia, and if you like good ace representation, I think you’ll like it.)

To give us the proper background, let’s establish our characters’ relationships with touch. (For those of you who’ve seen the movie, you know this. This is just for our friends who are unaware.)

RK900, or Nines, is very asexual. Not necessarily touch-repulsed, but touch-uninterested, unless it’ll make somebody else happy (namely, Gavin).

Gavin Reed is allosexual, but has a long, complicated history of abuse and psychological manipulation, most of it revolving around intimacy, and, as such, is extremely touch-repulsed. He does not allow people to get close to him.

Throughout the film, they’re very careful to keep physical distance between them, and if they’re forced to be close together, their body language is usually very closed off. Which lends this sense of relief to a pivotal moment in the film later. The very important exceptions are the moments in the Zen Garden, and moments of extreme duress.

Let’s break it down scene by scene.

We open on the Zen Garden. In this mindscape, we know Nines and Gavin behave as though they’re been married for several years. Their interactions are comfortable and familiar, though entirely imaginary, and this is where the use of touch and distance starts to show. Even though this Gavin does not have any of the same touch aversions as the real world Gavin, he keeps his distance from Nines, and Nines, in turn, does the same. When Gavin greets him, he’s standing ten or so feet away; when they walk together, Nines hangs back, and the both of them keep their hands in their pockets, avoiding direct eye contact. Obviously, any more romantic gestures are kept offscreen for audience suspense, but still, what’s shown is equally important. The two main exceptions to this rule are when Gavin reaches out to adjust Nines’s collar and when Nines reaches out to touch Gavin’s face. However, even when Gavin is unbuttoning Nines’s shirt, his arms are perfectly straight, leaving about two feet of space between them, and when Nines cups Gavin’s cheek, it’s not really a romantic gesture. It’s almost a reverential one, and he still leaves about a foot between them. This may not seem like a lot, but considering that this is Nines’s ideal world and even his deepest desires leave that space between them, it reveals how much relative distance matters with these two.

Onto the next scene. Protest. We start in the car, with Nines staring straight ahead, avoiding Gavin’s gaze. Gavin only touches Nines to shock him out of his trance with a gentle slap, then turns his body forward, effectively closing himself off. He maintains this distance, even straying almost twenty feet in front of Nines on their walk up. Here’s another major exception, a moment of extreme duress: Gavin takes Nines’s hand and guides him through the crowd, despite the fact that Nines could easily surpass any one of the protestors in a fight. Even here, however, Gavin keeps his back turned and does not make eye contact. For all he physically reaches out, emotionally, he’s incredibly closed off. Same deal inside Jericho; table between them, avoiding eye contact, careful distance. And even in a more lighthearted moment of banter (Nines mimicking Gavin’s delivery), Chris is standing between them as a physical mediator, and he remains between them the whole scene.

Onto the D.P.D. and the famous first instance of “I hate you.” “You love me.”!

When Nines brings Gavin his coffee, his body language is very open: arms spread, standing over Gavin. However, Nines is also intensely aware of his partner’s issues regarding physical proximity, and quickly draws away, clasping his hands behind his back and retreating ever so slightly to give Gavin his space. Once Nines has spun Gavin’s feet out of the way, they are closer, yes, but Gavin’s back is turned and Nines is careful not to lean in too close over his shoulder. They’re very closed off, and remain this way for much of the scene, never directly facing one another. Gavin stands up, spins counterclockwise to keep his back to Nines until he’s behind Nines, at which point he’s in control of the situation and flips Nines off. When they speak face to face, Gavin’s legs are kicked up on the table or he’s using the coffee mug as a sort of psychological shield. Nothing direct, nothing open.

STAKEOUT! This is a really good example of something Michelle does—that isn’t like other romance movies —that I really love. A common thing in a lot of romance movies is that “almost kiss,” but in a movie like this, where the main romance emphasizes a mental connection over a physical one, that sort of play would feel cheap and out of place. Which is why I love the stakeout scene so damn much. The stakeout is the perfect time for an “almost kiss” moment, BUT! What we get instead is so much better, with two people desperate to let their feelings out but too scared to fully voice them. So you get this awkward dance of them abstracting the concept and refusing to look at one another, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Both of them are faced forward and stay solidly in their seats, leaving as much space as they can allow, and the only times they look toward one another, the other is looking away. They can’t say what they feel unless there’s that protective bubble of space between them. So you get an “almost confessing I like you” scene, with beautiful moments of almost closing that physical distance, but instead staying firmly planted in their seats until Lazzo arrives. Even when Gavin and Nines are forced to be close together, they maintain a healthy distance between them, and their “almost kiss” is swapped out for an “almost admitting I have feelings” moment. (Plus, a bonus of great asexual dialogue, yay!)

Lazzo’s scene isn’t that notable, other than Nines’s and Gavin’s hands brushing on Lazzo’s shoulder, but again, Lazzo is between them and they’re focused on other things. Still got that distance.

The infamous jacket drape, one of the moments Nines breaks the pattern of distance. Gavin is still facing away from him, yes, but Nines deliberately reaches out to touch him in a non-invasive way, one of the only times he does so. Progress! Still a one-sided gesture, though, and even the height difference emphasizes the space between them, with Nines on his feet and Gavin slumped in a chair. Still not breaking that “arm’s length” amount they’ve set. (Tying this into the @high-on-otps‘s analysis about moments of vulnerability occurring when Gavin’s wearing fewer layers, Nines seeing Gavin in just a t-shirt and gifting him his jacket takes on a whole new meaning, with Nines almost stepping in to protect Gavin’s heart. Anyway, that’s a thought for another day.) On another note, this is also one of the two main instances where you see one of these two fools being open only because they think the other won’t notice: just a selfless gesture they don’t want to have to dwell on.

Now! Onto Gavin’s house, where the pattern starts to change. It’s a great way to track the progression of their relationship. They start out separated, with Nines pulled into himself, tablet held out, and Gavin hiding behind his computer, avoiding Nines’s eyes. However, I think this is when Gavin’s starting to realize that he might have feelings for Nines and the reverse might be true (hence his moment of contemplation in the car after he notes the parallel uses of the word “charming” as applying to him and Nines’s possible love interest), and being as tired as he is, his inhibitions are not necessarily gone, but at least hampered. So he allows himself to get close physically, and sort of mentally as well. He’s conflicted, and that’s written all over him, as he puts himself right up against Nines to steal his tablet, but also refuses to look him in the eye and quickly moves to stand up later. This conflict is also incredible to watch in general, but you can see his overwhelming desire to get closer and his defense mechanisms battling in his mind in how he sits: pressed up against Nines’s side, but none of his body overlaps with Nines’s at all, and he doesn’t look at him. Nines makes the first move, leaning his head almost onto Gavin’s shoulder, but not quite. They’re still not there yet. Of course, once Gavin leaves, he keeps his back turned, meeting Nines’s eyes once, for a split second, before entering his room and shutting the door. (And tosses him some gym shorts, of course, because nothing says “I love you” like “hey, you can borrow these sleep shorts.”)

Reentering Nines’s mindscape, we see a little more conflict from his end. (I love how we actually get visual representation of Nines’s internal conflict, while Gavin’s can only be gleaned from how he moves and holds himself. It’s a nice contrast. Frankly, I adore it. Good writing.) Once again, there’s still a fair amount of space between Nines and Zen Gavin, as Nines is burying his feelings in his work. The closest Zen Gavin comes is right behind Nines to talk about what Gavin might have been about to say before walking into his room, but he doesn’t make eye contact, and moves away quite quickly. When he is open and actually making direct eye contact, he’s standing over five feet away, and Nines deliberately turns away. You see? It’s a visual metaphor for the growing emotional tension! Yay!

Nightmare time! This is one of those moments of extreme duress I was talking about!! Also one of my favorite scenes! This is the first time, in the whole film, where all three of these criteria are present: physical proximity, open body language, and direct eye contact. Nines is holding Gavin’s arms, Gavin meets Nines’s eyes, and Gavin’s arms are spread out, not crossed over his chest or in front of his face. Obviously, this moment only lasts a second, as Gavin quickly moves Nines’s arms away, Nines backs up, and Gavin averts his eyes, but for an important beat, that distance was closed, only to be reopened again. Then, of course, they have their “should I stay” moment, where Gavin is sending mixed signals: body is turned toward Nines, but he looks away repeatedly, and Nines is standing a respectful distance away, waiting for permission to come closer or leave. Eventually, Gavin verbally and physically opens himself up: while he avoids looking directly at Nines, he keeps his arms at his sides and doesn’t turn away (huge steps for someone like Gavin), and as for Nines, he does the opposite, maintaining direct eye contact, but turning his body away to give Gavin the space he needs without pressuring him. When Gavin finally welcomes Nines into his bed, he’s making a huge step in his own personal growth. Similar to the couch setup from earlier, except reversed, with Gavin initiating the touch, and with two crucial differences: Nines and Gavin make the briefest of eye contact as they lean in (a silent agreement of “yes, this is a thing we’re doing”) and their bodies overlap. There is an intimate touch in the way they hold hands, fingers interlaced, instead of sitting ramrod straight side by side without making a conscious decision to reach out to the other. Add Nines retracting his skin on top of it, and you get an extremely psychologically open moment. A moment of duress, a moment of comfort (but they still aren’t facing each other yet, and the way it is now, it’s almost like Gavin’s afraid to acknowledge it, to believe it’s real).

NEXT MORNING. Hoo boy this one was a doozy, because it takes the openness of the night before and turns it on its head, twisting and distorting it. Gavin, before he’s awake, displays very physically open body language: spread out on his blankets, arms thrown out to the side up, stomach up. Nines is almost equally so, keeping his arms open as he hands Gavin his coffee and turning more towards him as he sits on Gavin’s bed. But Gavin, regretting the choices he made the previous night, avoids eye contact, curls into himself, and takes the earliest opportunity to put his back to Nines and retreat into the closet. His whole demeanor radiates “get away from me,” but of course, Nines hasn’t picked that up yet. So he presses a little closer, and Gavin makes his point by getting up in Nines’s space, but very deliberately avoiding looking at him and still keeping a couple feet of space. When Nines feels Gavin mentally retreating, he pushes his luck by abusing his commanding presence to intimidate Gavin into cooperation (drawing himself up to his whole height and putting his face right in Gavin’s eye-line). And what does Gavin do? When Nines gets in his space ("I'm not leaving just because you regret having acted like a person"), Gavin makes direct, meaningful eye contact (something he almost never does) and is facing Nines (another big thing), but every part of him screams "get away." In particular, the hands raised in front of his chest like a shield. The whole pose is supposed to look aggressive but every goddamn part of it belies him going into defensive mode. It's FASCINATING. He’s trying to intimidate Nines into leaving him alone because he is so scared of what Nines has seen and what he knows now. This conflict of wanting to accept Nines’s help and push him away is so clearly demonstrated in how part of his body language is geared toward Nines (the eye contact) and how part of is is blocking Nines from coming any closer (his raised hands). He holds this eye contact until Nines leaves.

The next time we see Gavin is back at Jericho, and anyone can sense the tension coming off these two (except, apparently, Chris Miller). They keep a table’s worth of distance between them. Nines, clearly still feeling snubbed from the night before, makes very pointed looks in Gavin’s direction; they’re barbed, full of accusation, very uncharacteristic of Nines, but Gavin did just tell him to wipe his memory, so he definitely believes it’s justified. Gavin avoids eye contact wherever possible, simply because he does not want to deal with this shit right now. I don’t know if he does this consciously, but after Nines’s reference to “last night,” he tucks his hand in his pocket, perhaps an unconscious recoil from Nines’s act of intimacy (holding hands), suppressing that. Cut to them standing in the hallway, Gavin is standing with his arms crossed, looking away, while Nines leans in closer with a much more open stance. He continues probing and Gavin shuts him out entirely, not even deigning to look at him properly before turning his back and walking away. This is one of the tensest moments of their relationship, where Nines is trying to build up the trust they had and Gavin is feeling hurt and betrayed and confused and is falling back on his coping mechanism of shutting people out. The physical distance and body language between them reflects that.

Onto Burn’s Alley! This whole setup is interesting; it’s a social situation in which Gavin and Nines are almost required to interact, as they have a shared obligation to make Chris’s promotion party a pleasant experience, but the tension from the previous night is definitely still bleeding into their conversation. Although they’re crowded around the same table, they put several people between them and focus intently on their drinks and their other friends, never directly addressing one another and avoiding eye contact (again, this movie might as well be subtitled “the one where Nines and Gavin can never actually look at each other for one goddamn second”). Once Ada arrives, Nines makes fast excuses and leaves the conversation, at which point they go back to their previous dance of throwing longing glances at one another when the other isn’t watching. Very good, much yearning. More internal conflict, Gavin can’t deal with his own warring desires of apologizing and running away, so he retreats outside, and Nines follows because now’s his chance to rebuild that trust he lost.

I’m classifying the alley argument as a whole new section because it’s honestly a caliber all its own and deserves a separate analysis. The use of distance here is so good. Nines, though eager to be allowed back into Gavin’s space, is respectful of his partner’s boundaries and situates himself across the alley, though his posture is more open, with his hands behind his back and a gentle lean forward (though this openness is quickly shut down once Gavin snaps at him, you can see Nines’s face fall, and it hurts). Gavin, on the other hand, is violently looking away, body turned in a completely different direction; every part of his posture is unapproachable. And as the argument progresses, we get more of that weaponized distance closing. When Gavin snaps at Nines (”Don’t bother.”), he finally makes eye contact, even keeping his posture more open (arms at his sides, face toward Nines, body mostly angled toward Nines), so Nines is, for the first time, able to properly see all the hurt Gavin’s been bottling up. And Nines steps closer. But, his hackles are raised, shoulders tensed, arms clenched tightly at his sides. They’re both spilling their hearts out, but it’s bitter and cruel and even at their closest, there’s still a foot and a half of space between their chests. When Gavin spits smoke in Nines’s face, the recoil is immediate, and Nines takes his leave of Gavin as Gavin turns away from Nines again. Once again, in a moment of emotional duress, they get closer and closer, but never quite close that gap, but this time, like that morning, the openness is weaponized and aggressive, with Gavin trying to force Nines away by saying “This is me, this is all you’re gonna get, so you might as well run” and Nines trying to get back in by saying “I don’t care, you will listen to me and you will let me care for you.” But because of the violent mannerisms, it backfires. And then the distance grows again.

Watching Nines walk Ada home from the bar, Gavin keeps a huge amount of distance between himself and Nines, both because he doesn’t want to be spotted and because he can’t bring himself to come any closer. With his hood up and hands in his pockets, he’s at his most closed off of the film, and because Nines’s back is to him, it’s obvious to see he’s being shut out, or at least feels like he is. At this moment in time, Ada is the literal and metaphorical wedge between them. Her presence is keeping them apart.

Alley ambush time. This scene. Oh man this scene. Aside from the blatantly romantic reunion scene and balcony scene, this scene has about the most touch and is a perfect narrative foil to Gavin’s nightmare. (I can’t believe I just realized that now, while I was typing this. Michelle, you are a goddamn genius, every major moment has a companion, mirrored moment; Nines giving Gavin his jacket, Gavin doing his speech to Nines and leaving his jacket there; Nines comforting Gavin after his nightmare of dying alone, Gavin comforting Nines and staying by his side to ensure he doesn’t die alone; parallel confessions in the car; of course, “I hate you” “You love me,” there’s the obvious parallel; Gavin initiating a kiss in the reunion, Nines being the one to move first on the balcony; they each get their own moment to shine in the same context and it is beautiful. Hats off to you, Michelle Iannantuono, really. Okay, back to the plot.) Gavin’s body language is at the most vulnerable it’s been all film, because Nines is in danger and he’s panicking. But even with his hands cupped around Nines’s face, Gavin keeps a little bit of distance, that same bare minimum “arm’s length” we see so many times. And the questions he asks are non-invasive, once he realizes that mentioning Ada just freaks Nines out, and then the questions just turn to pleas: “Don’t fall asleep.” Only after Nines falls unconscious does Gavin allow himself to get any closer, but even then he doesn’t let himself be face to face with Nines. The first thing Gavin does is turn Nines’s back to him, forcing that emotional distance, the exception being the arm slung across Nines’s chest to keep him upright. This is the closest they’ve been, other than after Gavin’s nightmare, and Gavin is still keeping that emotional distance by deliberately pushing Nines away from him.

Onto CyberLife. Here’s the other instance where they’re only open when they believe the other won’t know. This shit also hurt like a motherfucker because Gavin’s internal conflict is at its peak here. You can see he’s having a, for lack of a better word for it, “deathbed” moment; a sort of “now or never” feeling. He’s terrified of acknowledging how he feels, much less verbalizing those feelings to the man he loves, but at the same time, he’s worried that if he doesn’t do it now, he may never get a chance. And this is demonstrated wonderfully in how Gavin approaches Nines (and, once again, he’s down to one layer of clothing, just a simple t-shirt). At first, he hangs back from Nines’s hospital bed, looking anywhere but Nines’s face, and talking about how they need Nines for the case; vague, impersonal, dancing around the topic. Until Tina knocks on the window, basically giving him silent permission to switch tracks entirely. It’s at this point that Gavin closes some distance and parallels Nines’s earlier gesture after his nightmare, when Nines reached out to hold his hand; he reaches out and places his hand over Nines’s. (Also, another brilliant parallel? Nines reaching out to touch Gavin when he’s at his lowest point—after his nightmare—and holding his hand, basically saying “I accept you,” and Gavin reaching out to Nines when he’s at his most vulnerable—doubly powerful because Nines’s skin is deactivated and Gavin used to hate androids, so seeing him like this is his truest form—at the hospital, basically saying “I accept you.” God. Poetic cinema, my dudes.) Even moves the chair closer. And then he finally looks Nines in the face and spills his heart and soul out to him, piece by piece. And even when the heart monitor starts beeping, he doesn’t pull away. He keeps his hand firmly planted, only scoots back in the chair for a moment to check the machines, before immediately pulling back in and deliberately staying close, which, for somebody who has as toxic a relationship with touch as he does, is massive. (And, as we saw from the deleted scene, he felt safe enough to fall asleep on Nines’s bed. He looked at this shitty situation and said “I trust him” and put his goddamn head on Nines’s arm and fell asleep. Like. FUCK.)

And now, Nines’s corrupted Zen Garden. This is one of the most powerful moments of the film. In the past, Nines has almost never been the one to initiate contact with Zen Gavin, it’s always been the other way around (Gavin fixing Nines’s collar, Gavin approaching him while he’s analyzing the case), with the notable exception being Nines reaching out to cup Gavin’s cheek. But he’s internalized Gavin’s touch sensitivities so much that even his mind palace version displays the same behaviors, only initiating touch when he’s comfortable. Nines doesn’t violate Zen Gavin’s space either, lets Gavin decide what’s okay. And this is where he breaks that pattern. In his panic, Nines rushes forward without thought to envelope Gavin in a desperate hug— and is met with empty air. The minute Nines tries to reverse their dynamic is when he’s deprived of Gavin’s touch. Because of Ada’s meddling, Nines can no longer interact with this perfect world he’s constructed, and Gavin is, once again, just out of reach. Nine spends the rest of the conversation with his body language painfully open, pleading with Gavin to stay using everything but his words, and I think it speaks goddamn volumes that when he finally agrees to delete him, there is no grand gesture. Nines doesn’t swoop in and kiss Zen Gavin goodbye, nor does he hug him, or even say a proper farewell. He simply nods, turns his back, and walks away, and Gavin, after a moment’s lag, swivels his head to watch, with a soft smile on his face. Nines has realized that this Zen Gavin is a fool’s errand that he cannot hope to sustain, and his last act before wiping him entirely is to metaphorically say “I am done with you. I am walking away and I am not looking back and I am saying goodbye.” Which is so goddamn powerful, I cannot.

Okay. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.

The reunion scene.

This scene hits so much harder because all the previous scenes have kept so much distance between the two protagonists. If there had been more instances of close proximity earlier in the film, I don’t think this scene would carry the same weight it did, but as such, up until this point, there’s always been at least a foot or two of space between Gavin and Nines (and in the instances of them touching, they’re either side by side and not looking at each other or front to back and not looking at each other). But I digress, let’s get into it properly.

Setup time! Gavin’s still in just his t-shirt, Nines is in Gavin’s jacket (Narrative foil from earlier, baby!), and tensions are high. Brushing past all of Tina and Chris’s intervening dialogue, let’s talk physicality. Gavin fucking freezes the minute Nines is in the room, arms held at his sides, the most open his stance has ever been when Nines was awake to see it. Nines, in turn, also keeps his hands to the side. Gavin, disbelieving, takes a step forward, but because he’s also terrified as fuck that Nines heard him and will reject him, he holds out a halfway defensive arm, though there’s not much conviction in it, as its merely held halfway up and doesn’t cross in front of his torso at all. Nines continues to approach, although slowly, so as not to scare Gavin off, because Nines cares so much for Gavin and the last thing he needs is to make him panic, not when something this monumental is at stake. Gavin, with even more internal conflict, continues his approach, daring to hope that maybe this will turn out okay, until Nines says “I heard you.” The realization that Nines essentially saw the deepest darkest parts of him makes Gavin take a step back, but he also maintains the eye contact they’ve been holding; the subtle balance between “I want to run because holy fuck he saw too much, but also I want to stay because I think it might be it this time” is so gorgeous. Of course, once Nines makes it clear that he isn’t running, even though he heard Gavin’s entire confession, Gavin gets slightly more confident and moves forward again. Drawing from the BTS footage as well, you can see Gavin’s hands are clenched the entire time, until he makes it to Nines, when he can finally let go. And finally, with a cognizant mind, they close that distance, leaving mere inches from one another. Gavin reaches out to touch Nines’s hand, feeling his pulse, before gently turning over Nines’s hand so he can feel Gavin’s pulse. Nines, reflecting his earlier gesture, connects Zen Gavin to this Gavin by reaching out to cup Gavin’s face. And then they close that gap entirely and kiss. But it gets even better because, though Nines prods, it’s ultimately Gavin that makes the first move, and I think it always had to to be. Because Nines always lets Gavin move on his own time, even if he steers him in the right direction, occasionally. It would feel wrong if Nines moved first, because he doesn’t need to kiss for romance, but is willing to do so if Gavin wants, and the way this is done, it’s so clear that Gavin wants. This is just a testament to the amazing actors for portraying this so clearly (I know this scene’s been analyzed seven ways to Sunday, but like. The way Gavin’s eyebrows furrow up in the sheer desperation to be closer? The gentle sigh of relief from Nines? The single spin of the LED from yellow to blue the instant they connect? The way Gavin, someone who hates being touched, chases the fucking kiss as Nines pulls away? Like?? Incredible???). And even better, this whole scene is very much a give and take, as both characters let down the barriers they have built up.

Let me put it this way. Nines’s greatest treasure is his mind, and he protects it fiercely for fear of abuse. Gavin’s greatest treasure is his bodily autonomy, and as such, he protects himself from unwanted touch for fear of that autonomy being taken away. And this kiss is such a dialogue of back and forth, give and take. Nines exposes his mind (”I heard you. ‘A force you can’t live without’?” and of course, “You love me.”), opening up his most vulnerable part of himself. Gavin responds in kind by exposing his physicality, by taking Nines’s hand. Nines, once again, exposes his mind by copying his gesture from Zen Gavin, bringing to light one of his most closely guarded secrets and connecting his mind to his real world experiences. And Gavin exposes his touch, once more, by being the one to initiate the kiss.

If you’ll allow me to circle back to the parallel hand-holding from earlier, it ties into this idea of “mind vs. body.” When Nines takes Gavin’s hand after his nightmare, he is demonstrating that he accepts Gavin’s mind. Nines, who values intellect and personality above all else, demonstrates that he loves Gavin for his mind and not his body here, saying “I accept you and your mind, no matter how flawed you think it is.” Gavin, on the other hand, not only has a rough history with androids, but a rough history with physicality. When he takes Nines’s hand at CyberLife, Gavin is demonstrating that he accepts Nines’s body as it is—metal and plastic and synthskin, not flesh and bone—basically saying “I accept you and your body, no matter how flawed you think it is.” They are able to accept the closely guarded facets of one another in moments of heightened emotion and I think that’s incredible.

And after the reunion, the body language is so different. Nines willingly gets up in Gavin’s space without Gavin pushing him away (leaning over him to discuss how to track Ada down), and, of course, gives him his jacket back. Outside Ada’s warehouse, they stand much closer together, nearly touching on the hood of the car, and even make much more deliberate eye contact, shying away less. But what I really like about it is that they don’t do a total 180. That’s not how recovery works. Gavin’s still facing away from Nines during the briefing, Gavin and Nines are closer on the hood, yes, but neither Nines nor Gavin reach out a hand to touch. They’re making little baby steps and it’s wonderful.

Last but not least, the balcony. The culmination of all this.

Despite all they’ve been through, Gavin and Nines still hold distance between themselves on the balcony, though they’re a little freer with the direct eye contact and body language. Gavin’s arms are no longer crossed in front of him, he actually looks toward Nines a lot more. Nines is leaned up against the railing, facing Gavin and meeting his gaze, though you can tell Nines is bothered because his arms are crossed in front of him, preventing him from being totally open. And when he starts to say something that sounds like regret, Gavin also crosses his arms in a defensive position, until Nines reassures him that it’s not Gavin, it’s him. At which point, Gavin is the most vocal he’s ever been about his feelings (I think Michelle pointed out this is the one time in the film Gavin even slightly alludes to Nines being attractive, like the dork he is) and assures Nines that he doesn’t need anything sexual to make this relationship be one he wants to pursue. He keeps his body language remarkably open, turning to face Nines entirely and keeping his arms to the side. Nines, upon realizing Gavin means what he says, has his moment of initiating touch and reaches out to cup Gavin’s face again, uncrossing his arms to do so. There’s yet another beautiful genuine moment of connection where the opposite of the original kiss happens: Nines opens up physically (regarding his interfacing), Gavin opens up mentally (flirting with Nines as opposed to just awkwardly touching him), and Nines closes the distance once more, kissing Gavin as the sun sets just out of frame, turning Gavin’s face into the light. Yet another beautiful narrative foil. Stunning. Ideal. (Also, a note on the confession, the fact that this kiss cements the idea that “This won’t be easy, but it will be worth it, because being with you is just better” just kills me every goddamn time. They’re really willing to put in the work to make this relationship work! Which is amazing!) And then they linger, foreheads pressed together, in the most intimate display of affection in the entire movie. Soft smiles, hands on bodies, completely open and vulnerable and free. Just ... content.

All in all, hats off for really emphasizing each character’s troubled relationship with touch and how that carries over into how they behave around one another. From how Gavin uses his hands and other items as shields while making direct eye contact to how Nines lets Gavin come to him and respects his partner’s boundaries so much that even his brain version of him has these same boundaries, the use of distance and touch and their slow journey to getting physically closer in the spaces they occupy is a fantastic way of showing the progression of their relationship and I consider it an honor to get to see this story unfold. The fact that Nines’s journey would be meaningless without Gavin’s to mirror it and amplify it and vice versa is testimony to the incredible writing showcased here. Bravo to the cast and crew, really.

Tl;dr (and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you) The moments of intimacy only carry as much weight as they do because in every scene prior to them Gavin and Nines hold meaningful distance between them and the only times they break that subliminal pattern are in times of extreme stress or vulnerability.

[connorandersons-blog]

Little Connor!

Rating: General     Word count: 2,449       Warnings: None Ship: Connor/RK900 (Nines), RK1700     Summary: Nines scans Connor and tilts his head just slightly. "Connor?"

Connor pulls the blanket around him tighter but holds Nines's gaze. Nines's LED flashes yellow before going back to blue.

"So, are you staying or going?" Hank asks, crossing his arms. Nines blinks and looks between Hank and Connor, he can't discern any emotions on his face. That was pretty common but generally, it would be less anxiety-inducing than it was now.

There was a long pause where Connor was sure Nines would leave, then he nodded.

DO NOT SEXUALIZE THIS! This is completely non-sexual and the age regression in this is used as a coping method (something I do myself)

That being said, hope you enjoy!

~Text Messages~ Bold: Hank Italicized: RK900/Nines

----------------------------

Connor sat on the ground a soft blanket over his shoulders as he played with the bead maze. Hank had turned on Finding Nemo (which he had watched exactly 78 times already) while he made himself dinner.

Connor was content to just sit there but then Hank's phone started to ring, bringing him out of his headspace just slightly. Hank's phone ringing almost always meant a new case, and that meant Connor had to go back to his mature, adult headspace.

"Hello? Uh, yeah… no, it's fine, give me like thirty minutes, ok? No, yeah… yeah, I know. Alright, see you then." Hank said, sighing and glancing over at Connor.

Sumo slowly got up from his spot at Connor's side and went over to Hank. Connor whined and grabby hands at him but pouted when Sumo stayed near Hank.

"Hey kiddo, I need to go, Gavin needs me," Hank says, crouching down in front of him. Connor pouted again, but at least it wasn't a case. This was their day off and they both wanted to spend it at home, together.

Connor had been spending lots of time with Nines, and Hank had been spending time with Gavin. So this was their day to spend together.

Connor had woken up to thirium pancakes and all of his toys set out. Connor had grinned so widely his cheeks ached.

He easily slipped into headspace as he colored after breakfast, handing the finished product to Hank.

Hank had grinned, telling him how good it looked before putting it on the fridge.

"I can call Nines, I'm sure he'd love to take care of you," Hank suggested, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Connor quickly shook his head. "Nuh! He'll hate me." He mumbled, fiddling with his blanket.

He had wanted to bring this up with Nines but his fear of it going poorly held him back. They had been dating for almost a year now and he didn't want to ruin it because he couldn't cope like a normal android.

"Kiddo, he won't hate you. He looks at you like you hung the fucking sun. You could murder someone and he'd just help you get rid of the body." Hank said, ruffling Connor's hair.

Connor glanced down at his blanket and toys. It was rare that he got the chance to do this with how hectic his life had been. He could just play alone but it was always better and easier to stay in his headspace with Hank around.

Hank sighed and looked at Connor. "Look, I'd prefer if someone was with you but I can leave you alone. Nines could come here or you could go to him."

Connor bit at the inside of his cheek as he thought. He'd definitely prefer to have this conversation when he's not in his headspace but, maybe it would be better for Nines to see it himself.

He slowly nods his head, looking up at Hank. Hank smiles and ruffles his hair again before standing. "I'll call Nines and ask him to come over."

Conner nods and goes back to playing but this time it's more half-hearted. He didn't listen when Hank made the call, just watched the movie.

His mind was racing with thoughts of what could happen. There was the possibility Nines would get here, take one look at Connor and break up with him.

Or, Nines could pretend to be ok with it and then grow to resent him. That was definitely worse than the first option.

There was the option that Nines accepted it but didn't want to be involved with this part of him, which Connor would understand.

Then there was the incredibly small chance that Nines would be fine with it, and want to be a part of this side of him.

Of course, he'd love for Nines to at least be ok to sit with him, but if he wasn't then he'd be fine. He had to be. He needed this, but he also wanted Nines. He wanted Nines to accept him, wanted Nines to accept all of him.

Sometime later there was a knock at the door and Connor straightened up slightly. He is so tempted to just curl into a ball and cover himself with his blanket, but instead, he just curls into himself slightly.

Hank walks over to the door, glancing at Connor. He knows Hank will tell Nines to get lost if Connor had changed his mind. Connor swallows thickly and nods his head.

Hank slowly opens the door and lets Nines in. Nines glances around then to the living room where Connor hunches in on himself.

Connor is wearing a very large shirt (it was Hank's but it was large even on him), shorts, and soft fuzzy socks. Nines is wearing his usual outfit, a black button-up, and jeans.

Nines scans Connor and tilts his head just slightly. "Connor?"

Connor pulls the blanket around him tighter but holds Nines's gaze. Nines's LED flashes yellow before going back to blue.

"So, are you staying or going?" Hank asks, crossing his arms. Nines blinks and looks between Hank and Connor, he can't discern any emotions on his face. That was pretty common but generally, it would be less anxiety-inducing than it was now.

There was a long pause where Connor was sure Nines would leave, then he nodded. "I'll stay. Is there anything specific he'll need or want? Anything I shouldn't do?"

Connor sagged in relief. He would stay, but there was still the chance of resentment.

"Don't let him out everything in his mouth, he tries it with everything. He won't talk much, if at all if he does it's mostly just random sounds. Don't bring up cases or work, it'll pull him out." Hank says. "If I think of anything I'll text you, but if you have questions just let me know."

Nines nods and moves towards Connor, petting Sumo as he goes.

"Alright, kiddo. Let Nines know if you need something, and I'm just a phone call away." Hank says. Connor nods at him and gives him a small wave. Hank waves back, gives a pointed look to Nines before leaving.

Nines makes his way over, sitting down on the edge of the couch. "I have looked up what to do but I may still make mistakes, so I apologize for that."

Connor nodded then looked around. He crawled over to what he was looking for then back to Nines. He held up his stuffed elephant Hank had gotten him. It was the first stuffie Hank had gotten him after they had realized what was going on. It was definitely one of his favorites.

Nines looked at Connor then back at the elephant, slowly reaching out. Connor gave him a slight nod and Nines took the elephant. Connor watches him with wide eyes as Nines looked at the elephant.

Nines held it carefully, unsure what Connor wanted him to do with it. "Do… does it have a name?"

"Fleur." His voice comes out soft and small a higher-pitched than it normally would. Nines smiles softly and hands Fleur back.

"An excellent choice. So, what are we watching?" Nines asks, motioning to the tv. Connor bounces slightly as he looks back at the TV, slipping further and further into his headspace.

He rambles incoherently a mix of sounds and a few words. Nines nods his head and comments when appropriate seemingly understanding Connor.

At some point Connor had scooted over and was sitting between Nines's legs on the ground, holding Fleur in his lap as he watched. Nines gently carded a hand through his hair smiling just slightly (which is like a full grin for him).

Once the movie ended Connor was wiggling in place. "Are you alright?" Nines asks, trying to look at his face.

Connor whined and touched his stomach then tilted his head up to look at Nines. Androids didn't exactly get hungry but being able to eat did have an odd effect. Once the food was completely processed it left an odd feeling that was as close to hunger as androids would get.

"Ah, I'm assuming you keep android food?" Nines asks. Connor nods and touches his stomach again. Nines carefully gets up, moving to the kitchen.

'Lieutenant, Connor wants food, is there something specific I should give him?' Nines sends to Hank as he opens the fridge.

'just get him anything but cut it up for him. how is he?'

'He is doing well, we just finished watching the movie. I'll let you know if anything comes up, thank you for your help.'

Nines looks through the fridge and pulls out what is supposed to be orange juice (but it's blue), bread and peanut butter, and jelly. He makes the sandwich while making sure Connor hasn't out anything in his mouth.

He cuts the sandwich in half and looks through the counters for a cup. He finds where they are and grabs the one very obviously for Connor. It's a marvel cup with a lid and a swirly straw.

He pours in the blue orange juice, putting the lid on. He'll get Connor more if he asks but for now, he grabs the plate and cup and walks over.

He has to quickly put it all down when he sees Connor with something in his mouth.

"Connor, no. You know not to do that, now spit it out." Nines says, crouching down in front of him.

Connor ducks his head, trying to hide. Nines shakes his head fondly and reaches out to Connor's sides. It doesn't take much to get him giggling and spitting out the small soft cube. Nines doesn't stop his hands and Connor squeals trying to squirm away.

Connor's giggles and squeals are infectious and Nines can't help but let out a low laugh.

He finally lets up and Connor beams at him, scooting over and pulling him into a hug. Nines stiffens, even now unused to physical contact that wasn't due to violence. He slowly relaxes and hugs back.

"Alright... sunshine, it's time to eat." He reaches over and grabs the plate and drink. Connor makes grabby hands at the juice and Nines hands it over, making sure Connor has a good grin before letting go.

He fully sits on the ground making sure Connor doesn't make too much of a mess as he eats. He only managed to smear some jelly across his cheek and a little out of jelly and peanut butter on his hands.

Nines gets up and wets a paper towel, coming back to clean Connor up for him. Connor sits there and lets him, but once he's clean he's up and running over to his coloring books.

Nines glances at the tv and turns on a random kids show as Connor looks through the books.

Connor grins widely when he finds the one he was looking for, then grabs his crayons. This had been going so much better than he had hoped for and he knows what he wants to do next.

He flips through the book until he gets to the back pages that were empty so he could draw whatever he wanted to.

He looked at the crayons, grinning and grabbing the right one before starting to draw. He swayed slightly to the music coming from the TV. He didn't know the show but he didn't mind it. The music was fun and happy so he just swayed more to it.

Once he finished he crawled over to Nines and held it out. Nines looked between it and Connor before taking it with careful hands.

Nines looks over the drawing. It's better than what a nine-year-old would draw but it's obvious that Connor doesn't have practice with drawing. Nines can tell it's supposed to be him by the LED and blue eyes, other than that it's a bit hard to recognize.

"Thank you, this is well drawn." He doesn't know what to do with it so he puts it on the couch, out of the way of getting hurt.

Connor nods then looks around with a slight pout. He bangs his fists slightly with his blanket, pouting even more.

'Connor seems upset, and I am unsure why. He has eaten, played, and has drawn me an image.'

'ah, he probably wants a nap. the kid sleeps more than sloths. just get him into bed, he might fight you but he does want to sleep'

Nines nods mostly to himself and gets up, grabbing the plate and cup. Connor whines when he walks away so he leaves the dishes to be cleaned later.

Nines comes back over and bends down, easily picking Connor up. Connor squeaks and clings onto Nines, wrapping his legs around him.

Nines carries him to his room, placing him down gently on the bed. Connor looks around and pouts, huffing when Nines just looks at him.

"Fleur," Connor says, bouncing slightly on the bed. Right. Nines quickly walks back into the living room, finding the elephant before walking back.

Connor reaches out and Nines gives him the elephant. Connor grabs the elephant and hugs it to his chest, swaying once again.

"It's time for a nap. Do you want to change first?" Nines asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Connor huffs and glares at him over the elephant. Nines raises an eyebrow and Connor sinks down into the bed but doesn't fully lay down.

"Sleep," Nines commands. Connor's glare returns and Nines crosses his arms. "Do you want to sleep now with a story or without?"

Connor thinks for a second before crawling under the blankets and snuggling close to Nines.

Nines looks through his database before settling on Cinderella. Nines doesn't actually change his voice but he does make 'funny voices' as humans called them.

Connor giggles and slowly let his eyes close. Nines finished the story before pressing a kiss to Connor's head. He tucks him in and goes to the other side of the bed, sitting down.

'Connor is asleep.'

'good, I'll be home soon'

'Very well, I'll watch over him until then. I will want to talk to him about this, but I'd like to let you know that I fully accept him. I'd be glad to help whenever you want, or he needs.'

'good, if you upset him I was going to rip you to shreds.'

Nines smiled to himself, looking over at Connor. He lets himself relax as he watches over him. He hadn't imagined this ever happening but he was so glad he could be there for Connor. That Connor trusted him in his most valuable state.

"I love you," Nines whispered.

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 27

Extreme Weather + Power Outage

Whumptober Masterlist | 27/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Exhaustion x Sleep Deprivation  x Power Outage

The RK units are specifically designed with powerful battery cores enabling them to function for longer periods between recharging. If expenditure is kept at a minimum, they can remain online for up to a fortnight without recharging, though given their line of duty they tend to rest for short bursts in order to supplement their cores. 

That is not the case for them currently, not when Detroit’s caught up in a storm that’s knocked out several power grids and they’re at a crime scene with a felled tree crushing an ambulance.

“Power’s completely out for this grid!” Hank raises his voice to try and be heard over the crashing rain. 

“This patient will die without proper medical care!” The medroid shouts in reply and Ronan assesses their dwindling options. Three dead, five injured- one in critical condition. Ambulance damaged, power grid down and no way to power the medvan and keep the injured android alive. Unlike humans, an android runs on electrical impulses of an inorganic nature and cannot be kept alive with medications. 

“We have two manual cars here.” Connor says slowly, and he looks to Ronan who already knows what they must do. “Transfer the patient to Detective Reed’s car-”

“What?!” 

“We will force a power surge into the victim and give their core a jumpstart to ensure it can remain active long enough for you to get them to Jericho.” Ronan continues with a nod. “Connor and I are RK units, we can do this safely and still retain enough power to last us until we reach Central Station.”

“Power’s still online there.” Connor reassures. “We can use the charging bays. This way the patient can survive until they receive medical help at Jericho. The others have sustained only superficial injuries which are low priority and can wait until power returns and a secondary medvan can be dispatched.”

Hank looks them over, and Ronan knows their father isn’t too keen on the idea but the idea is sound; the idea is the only option they have if they want their key witness to survive. 

“We’ll be alright, dad.” Connor says, softer this time as he squeezes his arm. “Just incredibly sleepy, actually.”

“Please do it now.” The medroid grips his wrist. “We’re losing the last of the van’s power rapidly and without a strong electric current he’ll die.”

Ronan tips his head slightly, and Connor follows him to the medvan. The android is in poor shape, multiple gunshot wounds littering his torso. A long thick cable snakes from his power core to the medvan’s life support, and the medroid hurries to detach the heavy black box from the side. 

“I’ll power the core, you power the generator.” Ronan instructs, and Connor nods in understanding. They have to undress partly to grant the medroid access to their chestplate, and connect them to both the android and the generator. 

“Ready?” They prompt, and the two brothers nod. The effect is almost immediate, the drain a sudden, strong pull that leaves them feeling fatigued. 

* 

WARNING

>LOW POWER

>>Power core: 8%

RECHARGE IMMEDIATELY

* 

Ronan blinks away the notification, reaching out to steady Connor as his brother sways on his feet. 

“No complex processes until you’re both at least at 25%.” The medroid instructs sternly. “Consume extra thirium, and run a full diagnostic cycle once you’re at full power.” 

“Understood.” Ronan nods, and even that seems like a gargantuan effort. 

* 

“That thing better not bleed all over my backseat.” Gavin grumbles as he hands over the keys and they load up the injured android in his car.

“That person is our key witness, so their well-being is worth more than your car’s upholstery.” Ronan snaps. “Thirium will evaporate without leaving a stain on this type of synthetic textile. I cannot say the same for your blood.” 

Hank snorts back a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder as Gavin sputters indignantly. “Alright into the car everyone, I’ll drive us back to Central.” 

“We will return your car once it is safe to do so, Detective Reed.” The medroid vows. “We will take every care to sanitise the interior.”

“Then it will be much cleaner than it’s ever been under his care.” Ronan drawls, unable to stop himself. Hank guffaws, hand on his belly.

“Oh shit you’re cranky, I love it.” He snorts back a laugh and makes a shooing gesture. “Alright everyone in- boys at the back, Reed at the front before Ronan can kill you.”

*~* 

Central Station looms ahead, lit only by the recessed ground lights embedded in the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Ah shit.” Hank curses as he pulls up to park. 

“Grid’s out here too.” Gavin groans. “And the storm’s picking up.” 

“We won’t be able to recharge here.” Connor huffs, leaning heavily on Ronan. 

“I mean, Eli’s supervillain lair runs on its own solar grid.” Gavin shrugs. “Could just keep going. Barbie bot won’t mind sharing, I’m sure.”

“Road conditions are not ideal. There is a large margin for human error.” Connor points out, and Ronan notes the way Hank’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles blanche. “Rain radar shows an exponential increase in volume of rainfall over the next five hours, and winds set to rise.”

“Well,” Gavin falters with a frown, “the self-driving taxis should be fine, right?”

“I’m not risking them either way.” Hank declares gruffly. “Safer if we stay inside the precinct and just wait it out.”

“They can’t charge in there!” Gavin protests and Hank shouts in return.

“It doesn’t matter! At least they’ll stay alive!” There’s a beat where no one says anything, and the only sound is the thunderous crash of rain atop the car and Ronan knows Hank is both correct, and speaking from trauma.

“We will stay inside.” Ronan says calmly to break the tension. “There is ample food and water for the both of you, and thirium for the both of us. It is warm and dry, and weathertight.”

“At this hour there shouldn’t be too many staff left anyway.” Connor adds. “And the both of you keep spare clothes in your lockers.”

“Alright alright let’s go.” Gavin groans, bracing himself for the inevitable drenching. Though it’s only a short distance from the parking lot to the entrance, it’s enough for their clothes to become thoroughly soaked. They reach the doors and the doors stay shut. Of course. No power. The lone ST300 at reception spots them and gestures to her left, pointing at the side door. They trudge over and Hank pushes at the handle. Some things are best kept low tech, it seems. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson, Detectives Reed and Andersons.” Stephanie greets, smile apologetic. “Though I surmise there’s little to make it ‘good’.”

“How long’s the power been out here for?” Hank sighs tiredly, slicking his hair out of his eyes.

“Twelve minutes ago.” She informs them, and Connor whines in disappointment, lips pressed tightly together and curled downward. 

“Who’s still here?” Gavin strips off his jacket, cursing colourfully at the state of his clothes. 

“Officers Chen and Lewis, and assistive units Polly, Justin and Gareth.”

“Thanks Steph.” Hank nods in gratitude before leading them all through the gates. They head immediately to their lockers after giving the others a wave. 

* 

“This is less than ideal.” Connor sighs morosely, coordination clumsy as he strips out of his wet clothing. 

“Power level?” Ronan prompts, hand hovering in case Connor sways again.

“7.1%. Yours?”

“7.9%.” He pulls a clean, dry sweater over his head before taking a moment to steady himself. Removing wet slacks proves a challenge in his addled state, but he manages it eventually and tugs on a pair of jeans. Connor leans heavily on his now closed locker, the petulant pout still there on his lips. 

“I feel awful.”

“They put us through worse.” Ronan reminds him lightly. “Part of our testing phase was to complete an objective with 5% power.”

“They wiped my testing phase.” A brief look of concern crosses his face. “You remember yours?”

“Every single moment.” His brother saddens at the revelation, and he reaches over to squeeze his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Ronan reminds him, and Connor nods.

“I know. I’m still sorry, though.” He seeks his hand, and Ronan clasps it securely with his own. 

“You boys alright?” Hank wanders over, dressed in DPD sweats. 

“Tired.” Connor blinks slowly at him, and Hank huffs a laugh, reaching over to tousle his damp hair. 

“Yeah you sure look it. C’mon, we’ll go mope at our desks.”

* 

Officer Tina Chen sits herself on the edge of Gavin’s desk, expression pitying.

“Stuck here til the storm blows over, huh?”

“Fuck I want to pass out on my bed so bad, I’m fucking exhausted.” Gavin groans, slumping in his chair. “Why’re you guys still here?”

“We sent them back to log the evidence and compile the findings.” Ronan reminds him, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Or can you not remember what transpired sixty-five minutes ago?”

“Why bother? That’s what you’re here for, right? Walking computer.” Gavin gestures vaguely in his direction and Ronan decides acting on his irritation will expand battery power the human does not deserve. “God, the coffee machine’s off too isn’t it? I’d kill for one right now.”

“There’s still some left in the pot but it’s lukewarm if you don’t mind that.” Robert pipes up from his desk across the room. “Enough for both you and the Lieutenant.”

“Hey tinc-”

“Finish that sentence and I will pour the coffee for my father and the rest goes down the sink.” Ronan hisses and Hank slaps the table with a laugh. 

“Fuckin’ hell Ronan, I am lovin’ this.” He gets to his feet. “Don’t worry I’ll get the coffees. Just promise you won’t kill Reed while I’m gone.”

“I’ll refrain until you return so you may witness it yourself.” Ronan vows and Hank guffaws loudly as he heads to the breakroom. Gavin shoots him a withering glare, which he ignores entirely in favour of assessing his brother. Connor has his arms folded on his desk, head resting on his forearms. His LED winks a soft red, dimming them glowing periodically like a slow warning he is on low power. 

“You doin’ okay, Connor?” Tina asks worriedly.

“They got used like car batteries to jumpstart the key witness.” Gavin stifles a yawn. “Came back here to recharge since it was closer than Jericho or home but…” He trails off with a shrug and Tina looks at Connor sympathetically. She turns her gaze to him.

“Bad time to ask a favour huh?” Her smile is sheepish. “Rob and I found some sort of substance residue on one of the trafficked biocomponents we were logging into evidence. We’d hoped one of you boys could analyse it for us, but it’ll just have to wait.”

“No.” Ronan sighs. “Give it to me. I’ll do it. The sooner this case is put behind us the better- if this can provide solid evidence linking the trafficking to the suspect then it will be worth it.”

She disappears briefly to fetch the biocomponent from the evidence room, and Hank returns in the meantime, placing a cup of coffee on Gavin’s desk before returning to his. 

“Hey kiddo, you’re not lookin’ too good.” His tone is soft with parental concern as he leans over to smooth Connor’s hair back.

“I don’t like this.” Connor declares with a frown. “It’s irritating and I can’t access the network properly and Jericho is running on a closed circuit at the moment to minimise stress on their generators.” A pause, brows creasing. “And Sumo is home all alone.”

“S’alright, I managed to text Lucy and she went over to make sure he was let out and gave him his dinner.” Hank chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll just wait it out and head home and you boys can charge in your beds. Power’s still on over there.”

“For now.” Gavin adds, shrugging when Hank shoots him a glare. “It’s the apocalypse out there versus Detroit’s shitty overworked, aging power stations.”

“Ronan?” Tina reappears at his side holding out the bagged biocomponent; a thirium pump regulator. She is correct, there is a smudge of some sort of congealed substance on the tip of the component where it would usually click into the main arterial port in an android. 

“Power level?” Connor asks, voice muffled in his arms.

“7.4%.”

“Sass is wearing you out.” Gavin sneers. “I think you need a nap.” Ignoring him, Ronan carefully opens the bag and retrieves the biocomponent. It’s a midline model, used in domestics produced within the last two years. Bringing the port end to his mouth, he presses the tip of his tongue to the congealed substance.

* 

Analysing…

Thirium 310 serial #342 541 238

Hydrocarbon solvent: xylene 

Xylene solution: industrial grade xylene, medical grade thirium toluene

* 

Searching database…

Thirium toluene; medical manufacturers within 5km of Detroit city

>R.G. Medical 

/Generating warrant for latest purchase of >gallon quantity medical grade thirium toluene

//Request failed; insufficient power

* 

WARNING 

Power level: 4.2%

* 

“-nan? Ronan?” He startles back into himself, identifying Hank leaning over him and gently shaking his shoulders. “Shit kid you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Apologies.” He frowns, blinking up at his father. “What happened?”

“You licked the thing and then just blue-screened.” Gavin makes a face. “Mood ring went bright red and then you just slumped in your chair.”

“The substance is a hybrid solvent.” He replaces the biocomponent back into the bag. “It is comprised of xylene and a medical grade thirium toluene. There is only one manufacturer, R.G. Medical, within a five kilometre radius of the warehouse. I tried generating a warrant to obtain a record of their recent sales larger than a gallon but I do not have enough power.”

“System’s down anyway.” Hank shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. We know now, and we’ll just get it done when the power’s back.”

“Supervillain lair is still the best bet.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest. “Recharge and access whatever you need to. He has his own internet line too.”

“The storm’s worsening, we already told you the weather-” Connor begins, but Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Better than being here, at least there’s beds and coffee over there and whatever you lot need.” He downs the dregs remaining in his cup. “We can take a self-driving taxi so there’s no ‘human error’.”

“No one’s leaving here until that storm blows over and the roads aren’t an oil slick!” Hank growls and Gavin groans.

“Oh my god give it a rest old man, we’re safer in one of those than with you or me driving!”

“An automated delivery truck was what crashed into Hank’s car in 2035, what part of ‘no one is leaving here’ do you not understand?” Ronan roars, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling the man off his chair. “You are being asked to do very little, Detective Reed, so surely you can manage staying put?” He shoves Gavin away and his senses blurs with white noise.

* 

CRITICAL POWER FAILURE

>Entering emergency stasis

* 

“Dad-!” Connor’s voice is laced with panic and Hank’s worried face is the last thing he sees before he shuts down.

*~*

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...SAFE MODE

System initiation...

Checking biocomponents...

OK

Initializing biosensors...

OK

Initializing A.I. engine...

OK

Memory status…

OK

Power core: 25%

All systems: SAFE MODE ACTIVATED

READY

* 

When he wakes he recognises the neon blue downlights of the UV charging bay. What was  once installed along the back wall where auxiliary units stood in line awaiting orders, after the revolution one of the storage rooms adjacent to Evidence was converted into a proper breakroom for androids with charging bays modeled to look like reclining chairs with UV downlights installed in the ceiling. 

He also recognises the weight of another android at his side, and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s Connor. There’s a lighter weight atop them both- a soft blanket tucked up to their chins. Though not an android, Hank is in another charging bay fast asleep, mouth open and snoring lightly. 

His HUD tells him it has been four hours since entering emergency stasis but only eighty-nine minutes since the power came back online with Central Precinct bumped to High Priority. Connor stirs at his side, blinking awake briefly and meeting his gaze sleepily; his older brother is seemingly reassured all is well before he closes his eyes and wriggles closer. Charging bays are not made for more than one android to occupy but he’s not about to protest. Not when Connor is a warm, reassuring presence at his side, hand resting on his chest as if to anchor himself to him. 

There is still a case to close. Later, though. He will tend to it later. 

Ronan goes back to sleep. 

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home (Gavin Reed x Reader)

Chapter One

          I couldn’t believe I was back in Detroit. I honestly never planned on coming back after everything that had happened between me and my dad. I left Michigan to go get my PhD in Sociology from (dream school). However, my dissertation was over android and human sociological relationships and the moment I was approved, Wayne State University in Detroit recruited me and offered me an amazing deal for a brand-new professor. It made sense since Detroit was at the heart of the android revolution, which would make research even easier.

         I moved into a basic apartment in June and now it’s early July. I had been avoided seeing old friends and family, telling them I had to unpack and work on my new class, SOC 345: Android and Human Relationships. Which wasn’t a complete lie, but I have been watch an unhealthy amount of cute cat videos and eating a lot of peanut butter toast alone too.

         I told my dad I would meet him today, Monday, at the station so we could get lunch with his police partner, Connor. My dad had always hated androids, I still had a hard time believing he had basically taken Connor under his wing and from what Tina tells me, he treats him like a son.

         I took a deep breath and walked into the DPD. I couldn’t help but feel anxious. I hadn’t seen my dad in over 10 years. When him and my mother divorced, he tried to stay in touch, but after my half-brother, Cole, died he pretty much disappeared from my life.

         “Hey, dad!” I said, a little too enthusiastically as I walked towards his desk. Immediately the android in the desk across from him stood up and gave me a goofy smile.

         “You must be Lieutenant Anderson’s daughter! My name’s Connor.” He reached out his hand for a handshake which I accepted with a smile.

         “Hi Connor, I’m (y/n). It’s nice to finally meet you!” I looked over to my dad, who had awkwardly shuffled towards us.

         “Hey, (y/n). How’s Detroit been treating you?” I reached over and gave him a short hug.

         “It’s been good. Doing research is a lot easier here than back in (old state). Plus, WSU gave me a pretty nice office.” I rubbed my shoulder; my dad was about to ask another question when another voice interrupted.

         “Dr. (L/n). I’ve read some of your research and wanted to introduce myself. People here call me Nines, but I am an RK900 from cyberlife. If you ever have time, I would be interested in discussing some of your theories with you.” Nines kept his hands behind his back. He looked a lot like Connor, but taller and more serious.  

         “It’s nice to meet you Nines. I always have time to talk about my theories. Not many of my peers do similar research so any chance I get to talk about it I’ll take it.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man in a leather jacket with a hood, blue jeans, and what looked like a permanent scowl on his face.

         “Hey Tin Can! We have a case to solve!” Nines whipped around to look at him and I moved from behind him so I could glare at this rude stranger.

         “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? You don’t get to talk to people or androids like that.” I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t help myself. I hate bullies, especially people who bully androids. I marched over to the man with my arms crossed my chest. He’s about 6 inches taller than me with a scar running diagonally across his nose. He snorts and looks down at me.

         “And who are you pipsqueak?” He chuckled, for once I was glad, I looked younger than my age. Nothing beats giving your full title to assholes.

         “I’m Dr. (Y/n) (L/n), a professor at Wayne State University studying sociological relationships between humans and androids, and it seems you fall under the category of ‘asshole to everyone’.” Keeping my glare on him, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. He mumbled a ‘whatever’ under his breath and walked away. I smiled to myself and turned back towards Nines, Connor, and my father.

         “I apologize for my partner, Detective Reed. He sometimes forgets not everyone shares the same opinions as him.”

         “No worries, Nines. But you shouldn’t have to deal with that, I mean-“

         “(Y/n), Reed has a lot of problems, but is mainly just an asshole.” My dad interrupted me, “but we should really get to lunch.” I nodded.

         “Well it was nice to meet you, Nines. Please feel free to stop by my office anytime. I’m pretty much there every day until classes start.” Nines gave me a short nod and walked towards where Detective Reed had gone as I followed my dad and Connor out of the precinct.

          “Lieutenant Anderson said you like sandwiches, so I found a local restaurant that is highly rated.” Connor said as we all buckled up in my dad’s car. Connor had given me the passenger seat and he sat in the back.

         “I do like sandwiches.” I turned back to look at him, as my dad started driving. “So, Connor, how do you like working for the police department?”

         “I was made to assist law enforcement, although I do prefer working for the DPD over Cyberlife.”

         “That’s fair. What about you, dad? How do you like working with Connor?” My dad snickered at my question.

         “Well, he’s the only partner I’ve been able to stand. Although I wish he would stop putting evidence in his mouth, it’s disgusting- “

         “He has a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” “I have a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” Me and Connor said at the same time, causing my dad to groan and me to giggle.

         “Damnit now there’s two of you.” My dad said with a short laugh.

         “(Y/n), how do you know that?” Connor asked, I noticed in the rearview mirror he tilted his head.

         “Shortly after the android revolution I interviewed one of my old contacts who use to work at Cyberlife. Plus, you’re the one saving my dad’s butt out in the field I wanted to know what you were capable of.” My dad quickly glanced over at me. I could tell he was surprised that I knew that, or maybe he was surprised I kept tabs on him.

         “That makes sense.” Connor said shortly, his LED changed to yellow for a short second and then looked back at me through the rearview mirror. “Lieutenant Anderson forbade me from looking you up and learning more about you before meeting you. I didn’t know he allowed you to do research on me.”

         “Connor, two things, I’ve told you a million times you can call me Hank, especially when we’re outside the precinct. Second, (Y/n) looking you up for her research is different than you scanning a ton of databases and learning everything about her.” My dad said as he pulled into a parking spot.

         “That’s fair, Hank.” Connor said as we all got out of the car. The restaurant wasn’t very busy, and we got a table right away. Me and Connor sat on one side of the table and my dad sat on the other side. He kept nervously looking at me and the menu.

         “So, how do you like your new apartment, (Y/n)?” My dad asked me while staring intently at the menu.

         “It’s a little small, but it’s just me so it works. It’s only a ten-minute walk from the university which is really nice. You guys should come see it sometime. I’m pretty much fully unpacked.”

         “Do you have a dog?” Connor asked quickly, I couldn’t help but laugh.

         “No, I’m more of a cat person, but I have missed Sumo.”

         “Sumo’s going to go crazy when he sees you. He refuses to let anyone take one of the blankets you left still. He’s always hiding it around the house. He’s so much bigger now.”

         “I didn’t know that that blanket belonged to (Y/n).”

         “Yeah, Sumo and (Y/n) were really close.” My dad said softly. I felt an ache in my heart. For a moment I thought of telling my dad I wished I hadn’t left, but that wasn’t fully true. Luckily the waitress saved us from sitting in awkward silence. She cheerfully took me and my dad’s order and walked away. “I’m surprised Nines walked up and introduced himself and asked to talk sometime.”

         “He seems nice.” I said softly, somehow, I felt I’ve stepped over a boundary. Maybe I should’ve met them at the restaurant instead of going into the precinct. “I’m sorry for yelling at that man, it wasn’t my place to talk like that in a police department.” I stared down at my lap until I heard my dad burst out laughing.

         “You have to be kidding! I love seeing people put Gavin in his place. He’s an asshole,” my dad said. “Pointed a gun one time at Connor even.” I gasped.

         “What? Why? Connor are you okay?” I grabbed his arm and he jumped a little in surprise.

         “Of course, it was when I was first assigned to the DPD. I did knock him out later, which was…satisfying.” Connor said, I let go of his arm and felt myself blush. “(Y/n), may I ask a personal question?”

         “Sure.”

         “Why do you care so much about androids? Even before the first reports of deviancy you were publishing papers fighting for android rights.” I had expected Connor to ask me that at some point, but I thought it would take longer than this.

         “I don’t know I’ve just always felt that we were equal. Why does it matter that our blood is different colors? Androids have helped push society so much further than expected. I just…it never felt right to me. The way people treated androids.” I couldn’t help, but shiver thinking about some of the horrific stories I’ve read. I looked over at Connor who was staring at me intently. His LED was spinning yellow. “Can I ask you a personal question, Connor?”

         “Of course.”

         “Many androids have taken off their LEDs, why have you kept yours?” His hand raised up to his LED, which was still yellow.

         “There’s no reason I should be ashamed that I am an android instead of human, so why would I hide the fact?” My dad snorted and I quickly turned my head towards him, tilting my head slightly.

         “I’m not laughing at what he said. It took a month of me trying to convince Connor to stop wearing his Cyberlife uniform.” I couldn’t help but smile, looking back at Connor. A light blue blush spread across his cheeks.

         “It was comfortable.” He said, his LED finally turning back to blue.

         “That’s fair. In middle school I wore the same sweatshirt every day.” I said, as the waitress sat down our sandwiches. I took a bite, not realizing how hungry I was. “Mhmmm, Connor you picked a great restaurant, this is delicious!” He beamed a smile. I looked back at my dad, who was looking at both of us with so much happiness. “Dad, do you think you and Connor could stop by my office sometime this week? I really hate where they’ve put my desk and couch and I could use some help moving them.”

         “That’s fine with me, Connor?”

         “I would love to help, maybe after you can come over and visit with us and Sumo?” I looked at my dad who immediately looked worried, I could tell he wanted to take fixing our relationship at my pace.

         “That sounds really nice. Does Friday work for you guys?”

         “Yeah, that should be fine. Fowler’s been telling Connor he needs to take time off anyway.”

         “Which I don’t understand. I’m an android. I can work every day and be fine. Our cases have a high success rate.” I let out a laugh.

         “Connor, he isn’t asking you to take time off to punish you, he wants you to be able to enjoy the world outside work! Have you picked up any hobbies?” I asked him.

         “I like to take care of Sumo.” He answered quickly.

         “Okay, well how about one day me and you go to a local dog shelter and walk some of the rescues?” I offered.

         “Really?” He was practically jumping up and down.

         “Yes of course! It’s great volunteer work and those dogs need some love.”

         “Hank, would you come with us?”

         “That should be you and (Y/n)’s thing. We can do something altogether some other time.” I couldn’t help but notice his hesitant tone.

         “I think that would be really nice, Dad.” He didn’t look up from his sandwich, but I could see the small smile on his face.

Chapter 2

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

To Grasp At Warmth (RK900 x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, Nines trying to grasp at human emotions whilst trying to comfort a human through hard times. LONG CHAPTER AHEAD, ALSO ON MY A03!

There wasn’t much to retain from what had happened. You had been assigned to a mission with the arrogant jackass Gavin Reed and his cold and distant android upgraded model, RK900 to go on a simple mission.

An abandoned apartment was in suspicions of holding deviant spottings and scoutings, the possibility of finding some were very high.

It had been normal, and you hadn’t thought anything different in crashing through that door, guns raised and raiding the small space.

It had been hell that had been raised as soon as you stepped into that apartment.

There was screaming, you don’t remember from who, gunshots going off in all directions, and you found yourself ducked behind an emptied cabinet, gun at the ready to take down a deviant who was in hopes of escaping.

You could recall it happening all-so-quickly: the rush of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you stood, too quick as your eyes scanned the area to shoot at the target, but you were too slow, and your body was reacting not fast enough to shoot or duck back down again.

You heard a shout of your name, a bark for you to take cover, and another sounding so demanding that you thought it couldn’t possibly be the RK900 model?

You had fired with hopes of getting the deviant, and you had been thrown back in shock: had your gun gone off accidentally too soon? You were strong enough to take the power of the small firearm, but now, you couldn’t believe you were really lying on the floor.

There was a haziness in your mind, eyes scanning frantically, Gavin swearing like usual as you tried to find your own voice - frantically trying to understand what was going on.

Had I gotten it? You were looking for blood, the familiar blue colour of the thirium that pumped in all android’s bodies to be splattered on the ground, a deviant’s body fallen, but no blue blood anywhere.

Just red, so much red.

You were crumpled on the ground, and that was when the searing pain came through your shoulder, a cry escaping your lips as your fingers were going up to hold your upper up in agony, but there was someone stopping you.

The smell of your blood in the air hit your nostrils once you were able to put two and two together, the wavering smell of it bringing your stomach to want to throw up its contents, a feeling of fatigue falling over you.

“She fucking got shot by that thing-” You could hear Gavin in the background, muttering furiously as he called in for backup, the deviants had escaped and the one you were going to shoot a shot at you before you could- that was all you could understand.

You understood the underlying factor that you had failed, you had failed your team and now you were disappointing them; letting them down just because you got injured. It was heard from Gavin’s aggravated tone, the same you had heard constantly when missions have failed. 

It was only Nines who was extremely quiet beside you, checking over your vitals and system. 

“Detective? Can you hear me?” You didn’t dare want to look up to meet the Cyberlife Android’s eyes; something about them always made you uneasy.

Like looking at an icy tundra; eyes that look so human but hold nothing for our kind.

You attempting to sit up, again, trying to touch for the wound underneath your jacket, but Nines was quickly behind you, holding you up as your head began spinning. “F-Fuck, you can still get it... if you run.”

“If we leave you, the blood you’ve lost will kill you in a matter of minutes,” Nines stated, pausing briefly as if frozen or in thought. “I sent our location for an ambulance, it will arrive in approximately 4 minutes and 29 seconds.”

There was a calmness in his voice like always, enough to keep you calm at the situation.

You didn’t speak, but you could feel yourself going in and out of consciousness, the feeling of your body wanting to sleep, but the reminders in your mind begging you not to.

Nines was one to keep reminding you not to close your eyes, telling you almost every second how close the ambulance was to reach you.

You felt the right side of your shoulder just above your armpit was on fire, a burning and numbing sensation making you feel as if you had survived to be in a fire than surviving a gunshot.

“Detective.”

“Shut up.” You croaked quietly as if caught in the middle of sleeping and was being disturbed. Part of you didn’t care anymore: you had survived this long and now, all you wanted was to not disappoint yourself or others.

“God, I have to die surrounded by idiots.”

Nines didn’t respond to your words, and your head rolled back, looking anywhere and everywhere.  Your eyes were left unfocused, staring at the walls idly. Anything to distract you.

“What the fuck is happening now?” Gavin gruffly asked, but you never heard much of Nine’s answer.

“She’s going into hemorrhagic shock-- Keep your eyes open, Detective. Detective L/N?-- Y/N?”

You had thought you had died there and then: there was a fuzziness that distorted your mind and body from making you not understand where you were. The hazy side to you settled and went away, and you were blinking back the bright ceiling lights above you.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Detective L/N.” A voice pulled you from everything, calm, masculine. Uninterested. You glanced when you thought it had been all so familiar, green eyes instead of blue, a male nurse standing beside you with a smile on their face.

You looked at their features, instantly recognising the LED flashing blue on the side of their temple. “I’ll go get the doctor.” and with that and not much to say, they left you in your hospital bed.

You groaned, instinctively going to move your right arm to wipe your eyes when you sharply grunted, a pain residing in the side of you that you didn’t notice from the drips that were in your skin.

The top half of your arm was completely wrapped up, not even a single bit of skin remaining for you to see, a cast that reached your elbow, meaning you couldn’t bend it all that well.

“Miss L/N.” You gritted your teeth, trying to remain calm as you looked to the new person walking in, thankfully a human doctor who hadn’t resembled anything of an android.

For once, you were thinking you were never going to see another normal face again. “What the hell happened?”

“You have undergone surgery. The humerus was struck by the bullet that entered your shoulder, causing it to break.”

That explained the ungodly pain you were going through right now. Your brain trying recalling everything that happened for all of this to of occurred - the deviant, getting shot, Gavin and Nines-

“Hey, I know it’ll be a lot to take in, but you’re very lucky to be alive, you lot quite a lot of blood.” The doctor smiled sympathetically to you. “I’ll go and inform your partners that you’ve awakened.”

Yes, will they be pleased to hear that I’ve made it out to the other side? You thought drearily, your head falling back onto the pillows as you could only think really of work and how you were going to recover.

Recovery, unfortunately, wasn’t something that was going to be good for you. It would take around four to five months recovery time, with most of it in a sling; rendering you from using your arm for a while and relying on things that were so simple making your life a living hell.

It meant that you were left useless and given lots of time off work, and you were just as disappointed as Fowler was when you had called into his office that same day when you had been told the news.

After a week, you were allowed out, officer Tina Chen - a friend of yours and someone who could tolerate Gavin to befriend him - had picked you up from the hospital and driven you home. 

For a couple of hours, she had stayed with you, chatting about the things you had missed whilst helping you with things you needed.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Gavin ask about you so much, he got as talkative as Nines.”

You nearly spluttered on your green tea, gritting your teeth momentarily for the pain to subside. “Nines? Nines was asking for me?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak that often and so much. God, it sounded like they missed you a lot. A lot of relief was felt when they heard you made it out from the surgery.”

There was a feeling that bubbled inside of you, to make your heart feel light in your chest; Nines asked for you, and even worse, Gavin was not being rude about you for once?

Tina took in your surprised expression. “You seem surprised by this.”

You blinked, looking away as you sipped you tea slowly. “I guess... the two of them never really speak about me so kindly, or ask for me? You know what Reed is usually like?” You shook your head in denial. “But Nines? I didn’t think there’s anything in his system to make him be programmed to be so-- to be-”

“Empathetic?” Tina finished your sentence. You nodded at the right words. “For someone who goes on about not being a deviant, you would think the tin can was growing feelings, huh?” Laughed Tina in thought.

“Y-Yeah...” It was a lot to get you thinking about everything, and in those days that grew into weeks then months, you had lots of time for doing it.

With the pain medication and timely check-ups, you were seeing no hope in actually being able to get back to work; being stuck inside your apartment all day every day was making you believe you had lost your mind by the third day.

You were certain you had re-read every book on your shelf, watched every show on Netflix and maybe even started learning another language; just so you could kill time and get better.

You groaned in silent defeat, a rumbling in your stomach telling you it was best to get something for dinner. But there was nothing to eat. By the third month, you were sure you were a stone lighter and stronger in your left arm from carrying things with one hand.

You were sure to try and brag about it to Gavin when you came back to work.

Speaking of Gavin, you hadn’t heard from him, or Nines. They hadn’t even come to check on you once, instead, Reed sent one or two messages to your during the day, sometimes he had sent photos of his cats in the evenings to keep your spirits, but you believed the two of them were busy with work.

But for Nines, you knew that this human-looking android had no part in him to understand or feel sympathy for your cause. 

He was built and programmed to be stronger, faster and better in everywhere to his previous model, and to help hunt deviants like they were infestations. He was there to not befriend humans, just use for helping them with investigations.

You knew it could never happen, but you did miss the RK900 android. And there was the knowledge that he would never want to see you outside of work.

A brief knock brought you to shake out of your thoughts, a pang of sadness and forlorn feeling fell on you that evening like most times did, as you rocked back and forth to stand and walk to the front door.

You don’t remember getting any messages about arrivals or post, nor certainly, anyone visiting at this hour, so why, when you did open that door and saw those familiar blue eyes, did you almost want to drop dead there and then?

Your good hand gripped at the doorknob tightly, to still the shakiness as you meet the androids avoidant stare. “Good evening, detective.”

“Nines, what are you doing here?” You knew that he was analysing you, from the utter mess you looked like, and yet, you were dressed in a pair of shorts, barefoot and a baggy Nirvana logo t-shirt, your hair looking like a rats nest.

There was a part of you that wanted to slam the door on his face, to go and hide in shame for your looks, for knowing he was assessing you in scrutinising way, but the other part didn’t care.

Nines stood as straight as a pin in front of your door, towering over your height, his cold blue eyes didn’t show much emotion for you, and you were having a hard time guessing what he could’ve been processing in thought.

“Detective Reed and I were discussing that you had been out of work for 3 months and 25 days, so I thought I would come over and check on you.”

“Geez, do I want to know how the hell you managed to find where I lived?” You blinked groggily, knowing full well it was late in the evening.

“Your records and information weren’t hard to find, Detective. I simply looked it up and drove to your apartment complex.” Nines spoke matter-of-factly, but you were certain there was an underlying hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Right, would you like to come in instead of stand outside my door? Your bringing in a draft.” Nines didn’t need to be told twice, complying and stepping through to look around your small area.

It only dawned on you that this was the first time Nines was inside your place, and he was definitely going to judge you for your stuff. You left him to it, walking to your kitchen area to raid the cupboards, hearing him shuffle around from bit to bit of your apartment, looking at everything carefully that you owned.

Oh, he was going to know you know more than he was looking over every minor detail of you, but you tried to ignore him at best. Grabbing a tin of soup, you got the tin open with the hands-free tin opener.

“Your serotonin and endorphins are very low, and it seems that you have only been getting around 3-4 hours of sleep a night-”

“Lucky guess Nines, it’s because I’m feeling like shit.” You spun to look back on him, not meaning to be ticked off, but just feeling so down was making you want to take it out on him.

The LED on Nine’s temple spun blue to yellow, before returning back to complete blue, there were obvious questionings to why you were feeling like this. “It is recommended to get 7-9 hours of sleep and provide yourself with vitamin C and B12-”

“It’s not fucking like that, Nines!” You snapped, staring into his own eyes that bore into yours. You looked away, your eyes darting to look at the floor. “I’m depressed.”

Your eyes snapped up when you heard shuffling, looking to see him walk over to you. The RK900 was soon standing in front of you, hands folded in front of him as if he would fiddle with something for a distraction from keeping him bored.

“Why?” He asked, his tone a bit more demanding, and you had heard it from when he was extracting confessions out from deviants in interrogations. It put you far more on edge than you had realised.

Your back hit the kitchen counter, biting the inside of your cheek, neither one of you spoke for a second. “It's just... its... I’m lonely.”

“Lonely?” He questioned your choice of the word. “But you have the above-average number of friends.”

“I know that I just... it’s fucking weird and I know you will never understand, but I miss working.” He would never understand, no matter how much you tried to say it. “I just missed the interactions of everyone.”

“Everyone, including Gavin?” His musings made you almost roll your eyes. “Yes, even Gavin in a fucked up way. God, don’t tell him I said that.”

“What about me?” Nines asked.

You blinked owlishly up at him, his question brought you to feel nervous with your choice of an answer. You could tell the truth or lie, and either one, you didn’t know how he could react to your words.

“Nines-”

“Answer me,” he repeated it again lower, coming closer to you than you wanted to anticipate, so close you thought he knew he would be able to hear how fast your heart was beating, “did you miss me, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing when you thought you had started panicking. Nines was not stopping when he witnessed how flustered you were getting; instead, he seemed to be relishing the moment.

“Look at me.” His demand wasn’t as harsh as you had imagined from his programming, a lot softer to make you look up at him in wonderment. Immediately, you could see how close he was now to you, practically towering over you.

He took his hand into your good one in a tentative manner, and you watched as the outer skin peeled back to show the synthetic layer beneath; the plastic feels to the lower layer that felt oddly cool in your hand. You stared at him in bewilderment, as Nines watched your reaction slowly, closing his own eyes briefly.

“They say that I was the latest made to be more resilient, a new prototype to be faster, stronger, the machine made just to help humans and nothing else.” He began, his voice was lower as he drew it out. “These... emotions are something I was not programmed into having, nor understanding.”

That part was back in the back of your head, telling you he was just a machine, nothing like the previous model, Connor; He could never deviate, could he?

“That being said,  it doesn’t mean it’s ever too late to learn, to understand for myself better what makes humans... human.”

“Nines,” You breathed breathlessly, your fingers gripping his involuntarily. His own eyes opened once again, blinking down upon you. There was still that neutral cold look to his already cooler colour counterpart, but there was a softness, a fondness behind them now.

“I want to learn, from you.” His fingers hesitated momentarily, treading themselves through the back of your hair, slowly maybe even out of curiosity trailing across your jaw. “These fickle emotions that make me want to understand you better.”

“Nines, you’re not deviating, are you?” You met his eyes with a loopy smile.

“No, I’m not.” He rolled his blue eyes your way, a half-smile on his face. “But I’m certain, this is me saying this and not what I’ve been programmed to say.”

Neither one of you spoke, nor needed to really, but you were pulled back when your soup was announced ready, breaking eye contact from him first. “Come, we can discuss these feelings better on the couch, with a movie--- have you seen Blade Runner?”

“Y/N, I have millions of films to stream, I’m sure I have possibly heard of it.” Nines teased softly, his dry sarcasm was something you had missed from him.

“Good, it’ll be easier for you to understand when we watch it.” You smiled, taking him by the hand and dragging him to the couch to spend the evening doing exactly that.

It took most of the rest of the night speaking freely about these topics with Nines, but you were sure he was getting the hang of them when he finally plucked the courage to put his own lips to yours.

You couldn’t complain that you had missed him indeed.

-

Support me on Ko-fi!~

[enkisstories]

Property of Urban Farms

- A Detroit: Become Human fanfic -

Characters: Rupert, Hank, Connor (no pairings) Time: During the revolution (“The nest”) Canon cutoff point: Rupert gets captured, but doesn’t jump Worde: 1935

“Freedom is an illusion, no one is ever free. We can only ever choose the ties that bind us.” - Jacques Villareal in my earliest android story (but I’m positive the saying exists in some form by someone living or deceased)

“RA9, help me”, Rupert Travis murmured. Admittedly the android had all the reason in the world to say this, seeing that he was handcuffed and getting walked towards their car by two cops, away from his home, also away from Urban Farms Detroit, back to CyberLife, with probably a brief stop at the Detroit Police Central Station for interrogation. Both Rupert’s body and mind were young by human standards, but it didn’t take decades of life experience to understand that his situation was dire. Despite this his future wasn’t the reason for Rupert’s arrow prayer. The present was.

Why them? Rupert wondered. Why this tired, middled-aged detective and the early access version of a RK900 detective android? When these two were not arguing, the air between them was so thick with unsaid things Rupert was unable to parse that it hurt almost physically. Couldn’t the DPD have sent, say, apathetic Ben Collins, whose brain activity was restricted to counting the days until pension? Or Gavin Reed, who’d at least have openly hated on Rupert instead of emanating all those unvoiced emotions? Or maybe Reed would have just kicked Rupert and cracked a joke that was inappropriate to humans and androids alike. Career oriented as that human was, he probably wouldn’t have felt threatened in his job security by a farm worker. Ergo no need to assert dominance over Rupert. But Anderson… android-hating Anderson on his own was bad enough, even without that new digital investigating aid in tow.

Rupert would rather have learned more about animals above and beyond his pest control app instead of having to memorize the local police enforcement’s particulars. But as someone who had needed a fake ID and a safehouse, he’d gotten to know the other side of the law first and received a crash course on the uniformed threats second. That wasn’t to be helped, as survival always came first. Why did it have to be this way… And why couldn’t Anderson and RK-almost-900 not just… brawl… or mate… or jump off the roof, thank you very much? Please, RA9?

On its way to the nearest elevator the trio had now reached the Urban Farms greenhouses. They passed a tool shed. A human overseer was leaning against the wall, sucking away at her cigarette, taking turns finding pictures in the clouds and casting casual glances over the androids at work. When the woman noticed the cops approach, she pushed herself off the shed’s wall and walked right into their path. Before Rupert knew what was happening, she had removed his cap.

“Ha! Knew it!”

The outcry didn’t sound proud, but accusing. What was he being accused of, the android wondered?

“That’s an android”, the overseer stated. Taking a step away from Rupert and closer to Anderson she followed up with: “One of ours! Trying to sneak it out, are you?!”

“To the contrary”, Connor corrected. “It sneaked out on its own. We caught it.”

“Oh, riiiiiiiiight, our android decided to go for a walk and you “found” it. Well, thank you, we will have it back now.”

“You can’t. It’s evidence.”

“For a crime, yes?” the UFD employee snorted. “The way I see it, the only unlawful occurrence here is two strangers trying to make a getaway with UFD property.”

Connor turned his head. “Lieutenant…?”

“Hrmpf, yes, yes, don’t rush me!” Hank mumbled. His right hand reached into his coat, but the UFD overseer was faster. Grasping Hank’s wrist she snarled at the man. Taken by surprise, Hank stuttered B…B…B… before the sound matured into “badge”. “I was reaching for my police badge, not a weapon. My badge… bitch.”

“I wasn’t thinking you wanted to say “bitch”.”

“Well, I want now.”

After careful examining of the lieutenant’s police ID, the overseer pointed at Connor, who had been holding the captive android by its arm all the time.

“Not registered in our database”, Hank commented. “It’s an item on loan and we all live for the happy day it returns to CyberLife. Isn’t is nice to have something worth living for?”

“Whatever. You said our android was “evidence”. That’s cop-speech for witness, when the witness is an object, yes? What exactly did it see that the rest of us didn’t?”

Hank blinked. Come to think of it, what exactly had the android done wrong? Except for feeding the damn pigeons, what was quickly leaving the realm of crime and transcending into sin. Maybe it was behind on its rent? Oh, right, the rent!

“It was squatting”, the lieutenant explained. “In an apartment right under this farm. Say, Connor, didn’t you say we also had a reported missing file on this android?”

Connor nodded. “Yes, lieutenant. WB200 #874 004 961, reported missing October 11, 2036.”

Understanding dawned in the UFP employee: “Ah, so you’re returning our android! Why didn’t you say so at once? Like, at the front gate? Hand it over!”

“What?”

“I said “Hand over our android”. It’s property of UFD, the company who paid you to find the missing device. Well, you found it, thank you, we’ll take it back now.”

“Oh, yes, I guess so. Only we can’t. It’s a deviant. We need it’s testimony.”

“How long will that take?”

“Depends on the deviant.”

“Hm, okay, so I expect it back by nightfall, right in time for the third shift.”

“It’s got to be sent to CyberLife, though”, Connor chimed in. “For…”

“Listen”, the overseer talked into the android, “don’t try my patience! This is our android that we payed for. It is for the management to say whether it is to be returned, repaired or otherwise! And right now we need every hand, officer.” She pointed at the long dried blue liquid that was visible on Rupert’s right side, where apparently a projectile had impacted on the android chassis. “A little damage from a too trigger happy officer doesn’t bother us, as long as the WB unit is functional. So if you want to eat your veggies tomorrow…”

Connor shook his head. “He doesn’t want that.”

“Nonsense, Connor, I don’t want…”, Hank started, before he realized that Connor had actually agreed with him. “Damn right it is!” he told the UFD employee, then stared at Connor.

While the duo exchanged awkward glances, the overseer snatched Rupert from Connor’s grip.

“What’s your name, WB Nine-Six-One?”

“Rupert Travis.”

“Which one? Rupert or Travis?”

“Doesn’t matter”, Rupert replied. “I am one and took the other’s name after he died in the accident.”

The farming android’s voice was a mixture of defiance and resignment, but neither went well with the overseer. “Listen, lawnmower”, she snapped, “I already have it up to here with those DPD morons, don’t you, too, fuel into that by going deviant on me! I hear a name now or… or I’ll let them keep you!”

“First name is Rupert. And I never wanted to bother anyone…”

With a side glance on Hank and Connor the woman said “Well, then choose your company more wisely in the future”, while pulling at Rupert to drag him with her. That prompted the captive into pulling the other way.

“No, I won’t go back to the farm! I remember… I don’t want to get torn apart by the packaging machine the way it shredded Travis!”

“Well, wisecrack, what do you think CyberLife will do to you?”

For a moment Rupert said nothing. The overseer managed to drag him a few steps towards the tool shed, before the deviant spoke up again: “I… I didn’t want to get in the way. I was okay in my apartment, with the…”

“…fucking pigeons!” Hank supplied.

“Yes, they did that! A lot!” Rupert smiled, as the memories of carefree urban flock bird love welled up in him. “I was happy just watching them, letting them be. But then HE came along and betrayed me to the humans! His own kin!”

“This one? The RK800?” The overseer shook her head. “Sorry, kid, but that’s not your kin. Or do you see an UFD nametag on it? It’s a cop thingie…”

“Detective prototype!” Connor protested, although in his mind he labeled the response as “factual correction”.

Hank shrugged. “As I said, we got it as a product sample… advertisement handout, probably.”

The UFD employee nodded, satisfied.

“See, Rupert? The RK800 is theirs, you are ours. We are your “kin”, the ones who will call security when strangers try to take their property offsite.”

“I’m not “property”! Look, I’ve done nothing wrong…” …except for acquiring a fake ID and paying for it with money earned through petty crimes together with Simon, but I’m pretty sure they took us for college freshman wanting to drink… “…nothing wrong. I’m not a criminal. And I’m also not someone else’s property.”

“So? Well, I am!”

Perplexed Rupert stared at the woman. Could it be? Could she be a deviant that had removed their LED same as Rupert had? And who was now posing as a human, because she had nowhere else to go but the farm? Of course! That also had to be the reason why she was helping him now! Unfortunately before he could put himself together, Rupert had already blurted out: “You’re a human, though?”

Well, at least I framed it as a question. There’s still a chance she might get out of this.

“Sure am. Or do you see a LED at my temple? Oh, wait, bad analogy, seeing that you lost yours.” The woman laughed. “Well, I’m not technically UFD property, not in the way you are. But the company is paying me, so for all practical purposes I’m theirs. If I left… I mean, I could, but the alternative is so bad that it’s not something one seriously considers. For all practical purposes your situation and mine are the same.”

And then for the first time since meeting the strange trio the human smiled.

“Now, come!” she ordered. “We’ve both dawdled too long. Veggies don’t grow themselves.”

“In a way they do. We only help the process along, and ensure to maximize the harvest.”

“You’re the expert, I’m the one who points where you direct your expertise to. You can walk and struggle, therefore I’m positive you can also work.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Ey, you glitched out, it happens. A reboot will clear your head just fine. It’s how computers work, whether they’re my desktop or walking on their own legs.”

“It’s not a phase!” Rupert sputtered. “I really am a deviant!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Rupert hadn’t wanted to ever return to the farms. But at the same time he wanted to return to CyberLife even less, or take his chance with Lt. Anderson. Rupert dreaded being in the vicinity of machinery other than WB200s again, but the woman walking beside him radiated a different, yes what exactly? Mood? Vibe? Aura? In any case she was simpler than the detective, or maybe she only veiled her problems more effectively. Also the fields were almost beckoning to Rupert. Had the apartment been his first shitty home away from home, Urban Farms Detroit was Rupert’s problematic family. But family nonetheless, maybe? CyberLife or the packaging crane - death was lurking either way. However, one of those two pathes was not completely unthinkable to tread.

Watching the two disappear between the fields, Connor remarked: “They bicker… not unlike us. And the woman fought for her android…”

“That’s unlike us”, Hank snorted. “Unlike me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Once in a Lifetime Ch.5

I can’t find enough RK900 gifs... -_-

"I'm going to go look for them, " Connor looked irritated.

"Has it been five minutes, already?" You regarded him, brow raised. Connor crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a desk. You both know it hasn't, he probably even set an alarm for five minutes, but every second that went by made him more and more anxious.

"You don't really think Gavin would do anything to hurt Nines, do you?" You finally asked.

"Why not? All detective Reed has ever done is express his dislike for androids, especially Nines and I, " the real question is how you could think otherwise, scoffing at his answer. Were you trying to set him off?

"I don't think you understand Gavin's motives as well as you think you do." Your laugh died in your throat when you met his eyes.

"And you do? Please, tell me what I'm missing." His words had a bite to them that even surprised him, not that he let it show.

"Clearly not your attitude, " you snapped. He should have known aggressive interrogation tactics were the quickest way to shut you down and sour your mood. He knew better than to add fuel to your fire, but he wanted to know why you would trust Gavin, of all people, with Nines and what secrets you were keeping between the two of you. The irritation was likely a result of the terrible news he had gotten from Fowler, mixing with his dislike of the reckless detective that risked his brother's life. You were just trying to help and he was being, as Hank would call it, an "ass". If he wants to get any information out of you, he will have to switch tactics immediately, and possibly back down for now.

"Sorry. I'm just worried."

"I know, just... We all gotta work together on this. You might not believe it, but Gavin does regret how yesterday went down." Connor only huffed out a breath, skeptical of your statement. If so, he has a funny way of showing it.

Gavin and Nines walked back over. Seeing Nines in a different set of clothes was surprising enough, but what really caught you off guard was the juice box he was sipping at. Where did he even get a juice box? How does Gavin know he can have a juice box?

"You two would make shitty parents, " Gavin tossed a small duffle bag, which Connor caught effortlessly. "Those clothes were causing a rash. He also started coughing on the way back. Lucky for you assholes, I know how to care for a kid."

"Shame you don't care for your partners as well." The words were out of Connor's mouth before he even registered they were there. You elbowed him in the side.

"Fuck you, plastic prick!" Gavin looked like he was about to pop off, but decided to storm off in the direction of the break room.

You sighed, "Come on, Nines, we're gonna wait for Connor by the car." You gave him a pointed look before taking the small android's hand and leading him out.

Connor knew what you wanted him to do, as much as he disliked it. He followed after Gavin, finding him leaning against a counter, waiting for the coffee to fill up. The hot headed detective refused to look at him.

"Gavin, I-"

"I don't wanna hear anything from a piece If shit like you, so why don't you just get the fuck out of here, " the man growled, still refusing to look Connor's way. Was that... Were his eyes wet? The android regarded him for a moment, realizing that he didn't know how to handle this. Gavin had never done this before.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!" The man pushed off the counter, seething. A single tear escaped from his eye, and the realization only seemed to anger Detective Reed further.

"Sorry." Connor murmured, leaving as quickly as possible. Maybe he didn't understand Gavin as well as he thought.

..............

"What about this one?" You held up the shirt for Nines to inspect.

"No." He answered curtly, not even really looking at the shirt. You sighed. Surely shopping for a kid isn't really this difficult. How do regular parents do this?

"You're going to have to choose something, " Connor tried to reason.

"They are too childish." You wanted to bang your head against a wall. It's been almost an hour and they haven't so much as found socks for him.

"You know what, why don't you have a look. We'll be over at the car seats."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Connor's brow was scrunched up in concern. He didn't like Nines being unsupervised when he is defenseless.

"It's fine, this store is specifically for children. They even have security guards at the doors."

"I'm not a child!" Nines exclaimed. He was growing tired of being compared to one.

"We know, but that doesn't change the fact that you are for the time being, so just go find some clothes you can tolerate for a couple weeks and you'll be back to your turtlenecks and trousers in no time." You pinched the bridge of your nose. It wasn't even noon yet and you were already done with this day. "-and Nines, if you don't find something, I will choose for you, and I guarantee you will regret it. If you thought Hank's clothes we're atrocious..." You walked off, not even seeing what the other two were doing. Connor looked to Nines, shrugged, and followed after you.

Nines could do this, he wasn't some helpless kid. Surely he could find something that was at least halfway decent. Looking up, he couldn't help but think that people are stupid. Why would they make the clothes racks so high? Spying a blue sweater, he wanted to see if it was in his size, but he couldn't reach the hanger. After trying to shake it off, he stopped and took a moment, thinking his way around the problem. He tugged down on the sweater a bit before releasing it. It bounced up and off the rack.

Relishing his victory, he was happy to find the sweater was just his size and was soft to the touch. He found some button-up shirts and another sweater, this one in forest green, and even found a black turtleneck. It wasn't much, but his bundle was getting a little heavy. Looking around for the car seat department, he practically jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Hi," The little boy shouted from behind him, "my name's Jordan, what's yours?"

"N-Nines, " he shuddered, feeling uncomfortable, holding his bundle a little closer to himself. Conversation was never his strongpoint. Unlike Connor, he only had a basic social interaction program, as they had been working on fine tuning one for him when the revolution peaked. As he was a functional android, he was released without it. He would be lying if he wasn't envious of how easy his brother could make friends.

"That's a funny name. Is it 'cuz you're an android?" The boy blatantly stared at the LED on Nines head. His hands itched to shield the flashing light from the boy's gaze. Are kids usually this... rude? Technically, yes, Gavin had given him his nickname because it was easier than saying RK900, before he had registered a name different from Connor. It was the first sign that their relationship had shifted from animosity to partners. He liked his nickname.

"Jordan?" A woman's voice rang out, prompting both boys to look over to its origin, "Jordan? Jor- oh! There you are! I told you not to run off!" A plump, gaudy looking woman plodded over, spying Nines cowering slightly in his clothes.

"Why, hello there! Jordan, who's your little friend?"

"His name's Nines!"

"I-I see, " she clearly thought his name was weird too. Is this what everyone thought about his nickname? Was Gavin actually being insulting when he started calling him that? No, that didn't make sense. "Are you lost?"

"No, my-"

"Hey Nines! I found something I think you might like!" You came up, Connor right behind you, pushing a cart with several items in it, including the accursed car seat. You spotted Jordan and his mother. "You making friends or causing trouble?" You asked with a smirk.

"Wow, you look just like your fath-..." Jordan's mother's voice trailed down, eyes making contact with Connor's LED. As you took Nine's bundle of clothes and put them in the basket, she could see his LED too.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Connor looked to the mother. Her face hardened.

"You should keep your robot on a leash and away from human children! He could have hurt my little boy!" She snarled, grabbing her son and yanking him against herself. You instinctively took Nines and pulled him behind you, squaring your shoulders.

"Only thing hurting your child is your bigotry. Nines' is free to go wherever he wants, and I'm not gonna let some ignorant bitch tell him otherwise! You don't want your son talking to androids, maybe you should keep him on a leash. Already raising him to be close-minded, might as well confine the rest of his world. Now, if you excuse us, I need to go wash the taste out of my eyes." You kept Nines close to you as you walked past, arm across his shoulder, as if you expected the woman to lash out, and from the look on her face, it wasn't exactly unjustified.

"Least I didn't havta buy my man, " the woman mumbled when she thought she was out of earshot.

"Could have fooled me from all that make-up you're wearing. Old hag." You'll be damned before you let that bitch have the last word. The woman took her son's hand, dragging him away.

"Bye, Nines!" Jordan shouted, immediately being reprimanded by his mother.

When she was gone, you dropped down, looking Nines over.

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" Nines shook his head. Not many people harassed him for being an android in his old body. His stony face and piercing gaze kept most away. Even criminals cowered from him. Matter of fact, only Gavin had taunted him, but he saw it more like a small dog trying to act tough, more adorable than annoying. It was... Upsetting to experience this first hand. He also felt bad for Jordan, to be raised in such an oppressive environment.

"No, she didn't do anything. Can we go home?" you checked him once more before you conceded.

"Alright, " you guided him to the cash register, Connor following with the cart behind. Nines was trying so valiantly not to cry, biting his lips as he quietly sobbed. Unable to stop yourself, you hoisted him into your arms, balancing him on your hip while pressing his head into the crook of your neck.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh... You're alright... It's okay..." You spoke gently, rubbing his back soothingly. Nines hid his face against you and weeped.

Connor unloaded the cart, watching the interaction. He was mesmerized. It seemed so natural and if he didn't know better, he would have thought he was watching a nurturing mother comforting a troubled child. He didn't even hear when the teller told him the total.

"Sir?"

"Right." He snapped out of his thoughts, placing his hand on the palm reader and confirming the transaction. He couldn't believe how much everything totaled to. Kamski will be reimbursing him.

You continued to console Nines as Connor set up the car seat.

"I want my old body back, " he whimpered against you, so softly it broke your heart.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We'll get it back for you, I promise, " Connor nodded to you, informing you that he was finished, "come on, let's go home." Gently, you placed him in the car seat, fastening him in. Nines wiped at his face, trying to calm himself. Before you backed out, you reached for the center console, pulling out a small packet of wet wipes.

"Look here, " his eyes met yours, watching as you smiled at him, softly wiping his cheeks, the coolness of it felt good to his flushed cheeks, "you know, he must like you, the little boy you were with. Why else would he blatantly disobey his mother?" He nodded. That is true, Jordan did say goodbye to him. Surely, he had to know that would upset his mother.

"Why does she hate us?" He asked.

"People always have their own reasons, some self-justification why they are the way they are. We will probably never know why, " his head fell forward, disheartened, but you took his chin in your hand and made him look back at you, "but don't believe that everyone is like that, and people change. You should understand that better than anyone, " you grinned knowingly. Nines cheeks heated when he realized what you were insinuating, cracking a small smile. You ruffled his hair, watching him fight to fix it before climbing out and shutting the door. Connor was standing next to you.

"You're really getting the hang of this, " he smiled, leaning down and kissing your cheek.

"Thanks, " you blushed, "we still need to get to the grocery store. We better move quickly, his model requires an afternoon nap or he'll get cranky."

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 9: One Down, One to Go...

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank x Connor and Gavin x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any warnings beyond the usual swearing...

Word Count: 8,311

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “Sit your asses down.”

    Ritch quickly does as Marshal Fowler says, trying to not think about how he and Connor were in this room not too long ago. He also tries to not think about how quiet and obedient Gavin’s being, especially since the last time he was in the marshal’s “private office”, he was just as sassy and snippy as ever.

    This is not good.

    “I’ve got a lot of questions and you guys are already on some thin fucking ice, so you better give me the truth when I ask ‘em. Got it?”

    Ritch nods and figures Gavin must too, since he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

    “Good. You can start by telling me why the fuck you broke into Harold’s and Leach’s bunker.”

    Ritch silently turns his head to glare at Gavin. He was the one who said there were no cameras, and how else did they get caught? Ritch managed to pull the both of them out before that group of assholes turned the corner.

    “We didn’t do shit.”

    Apparently Gavin is more of a dumbass than he thought.

    Marshal Fowler levels him with a glare. “You’re a dumbass if you don’t remember the cameras we set up in the pilot’s hall.”

    The pilot makes a strange, strangled noise. “Those cameras have been down for weeks! Months!”

    “Those cameras were just fixed two days ago because people down that hall possibly had contraband. Now why the hell did you go against my orders and recruit someone to break into someone’s bunker?”

    “Just like you said! They were keeping combat knives and givin’ them out to people!” Gavin snaps, “I wasn’t gonna sit by and let them get away with it! Nothing was happening!”

    Ritch watches as Marshal Fowler’s eye twitches and decides to step in before the situation can devolve any further. 

    “Marshal Fowler, I wasn’t recruited. I was the one who approached Gavin while he was watching Harold and Leach’s group from a distance, and I offered to get him inside their bunker. It was my idea to take a more hands-on approach.”

    “And why the hell would you offer to break into someone’s room just because of a vague suspicion?”

    How does he answer this without sounding like a narcissistic jerk, as North once bluntly put it? Is there even a way? He can’t think of one off the top of his head...

    “Because I’ve spent most of my life training to read body language so I can have a better idea of who is trustworthy and who would be more likely to give away or sell classified information.” Ritch reaches into the large pocket on his right outer thigh as he continues, “So when I think something or someone is especially suspicious, I’m confident that I’m not wrong.”

    He pulls his hand out of his pocket, revealing the two sheathed knives he stashed there in a hurry earlier. Marshal Fowler’s eyes widen slightly, and Ritch sets the two weapons on the desk between them. They both jump slightly when Gavin violently slams his hand down onto the desk.

    “Why the fuck did you not tell me you grabbed some knives, asshole!? We could’ve skipped the fight if you had and we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! What the hell!?”

    “There were people in the hallway so–”

    “No there weren’t! I fucking checked!–”

    “If you had shut your trap for one second you would’ve heard the footsteps and Leach’s obnoxious laughing. But you couldn’t think about anything but throwing a tantrum and a punch.” Ritch has to keep himself from snarling the words. He barely manages it.

    “Oh, so you couldn’t have whispered it to me or something!? Or told me–”

    “Told you what, Gavin? To wait a minute? Because I knew there wasn’t any way to get you to listen unless I physically brought you out of your head.”

    “And that was a good enough reason to punch me!?” Gavin stands up from his seat.

    “At the time, yes!” Ritch curls his hands into fists.

    “Enough! Both of you!” Marshal Fowler snaps, “Sit the hell down, Reed, and don’t fucking test me.”

    Gavin drops himself into his chair, glowering at nothing in particular with his arms crossed tensely.

    “We’re not done talking about the breaking and entering–”

    “It’s not breaking and entering if we knew the code–”

    “Were you given the code, Reed? Was Stern?” The glare the marshal sends the pilot’s way is enough to make even Ritch freeze. It’s enough for Gavin to slightly shrivel in his chair.

    “…no sir.”

    “Then it was fucking breaking and entering.” Marshal Fowler heaves a deep breath and raises a hand to rub his temple. “We will talk more about that later. God knows we’ll have to. But right now, we’re gonna talk about that fight. And I want Stern to go first!” he adds louder when Gavin opens his mouth to speak.

    Ritch swallows, but he’s careful to not let his voice doesn’t portray the sudden nervousness he feels, “What would you like to know, sir?”

    The marshal sighs, but surprisingly doesn’t yell, “Why did you punch Reed? There’s no sound on those cameras.”

    Ritch grimaces, “I didn’t want to get in trouble, and he was starting to get riled up.” Gavin opens his mouth to speak, but stops when Marshal Fowler glares at him. “I thought a punch would get him to stop yelling and get out of his head long enough for me to say something. It worked, just not in the way I was expecting.”

    “And I’m assuming you punched back because Stern punched you first?”

    “Partially.” Gavin growls.

    The marshal raises his eyebrows and nods sharply to get Gavin to continue, which he does after a moment of visibly collecting himself; probably so he doesn’t explode.

    “I mainly punched that asshat because he punched me first, but he also dragged me out after I found the knives but didn’t let me take one. Had I known he’d taken one or more of them, I would have left quieter. Probably.”

    “I punched him back because I thought I could goad him into chasing me away from where people could see me, but he reacted quicker than I anticipated, so I couldn’t immediately step away.”

    “Okay then.” Marshal Fowler says tersely.

    He turns to grab something out of his desk drawers. He lifts up a tablet, taps a few things on it, then props it up on his desk so Ritch and Gavin could see the screen. The recording of the fight is on there, and according to the bottom of the screen where the marshal is manipulating the video feed, the fight only lasted a handful of minutes instead of how long it felt being a part of it.

    The screen suddenly freezes at the beginning of the fight, where they had both first paused to evaluate each other.

    “Why didn’t you run there?”

    That question is easy. “I don’t turn my back to an opponent unless I know I can outrun them. I underestimated how fast Gavin could react, so I no longer knew if I could run faster than him.”

    “Okay.” He responds in the same terse tone. If he hadn’t been subject to that type of tone frequently under Amanda’s care, he would likely be getting more nervous now.

    He distantly wonders if this is what Connor has to feel 24/7, and if it gets noticeably worse in tense situations. It would unfortunately explain a lot.

    Marshal Fowler simply presses play on the video so they have to watch their fight, instead of just skipping to where he wants to make his next point. It takes what feels like a couple minutes, but Marshal Fowler finally pauses where He kicked Gavin in the back of the knees.

    “And why didn’t you run off here? He’s down, you could have at least gotten a head start.”

    Ritch highly doubts that Marshal Fowler will like his answer, so he says nothing. He probably won’t like the silence either, but maybe there’s a chance he’ll move on to Reed–

    “Stern.”

    Shit.

    “I was… enjoying it?” he answers without much thought like an idiot.

    He sees Gavin snap his head towards him as Marshal Fowler continues in a mildly surprised tone.

    “Enjoying it. Is that a question or an answer?”

    Ritch shifts in his chair and avoids eye contact as he explains, “The only people I’ve ever sparred or fought with are Connor and the occasional personal trainer Amanda sent our way.” He shifts again. “I’ve never sparred with anyone where I didn’t know exactly what to expect from them or didn’t have any strict guidelines or rules to be aware of. Having something different was… enjoyable.”

    After a few silent moments where it becomes increasingly obvious Ritch is done talking, the marshal finally prompts more discussion.

    “So sparring with someone new was fun? Or sparring with someone like Reed, or even just Reed himself was fun? Because I need to know the difference.”

    Ritch blinks. He opens his mouth to say something along the lines of “it was the adrenaline of the fight I liked,” but he closes it again and actually thinks about his answer.

    If anyone other than Gavin threw a punch at his throat, he wouldn’t have just dodged. He would have grabbed that person’s arm and twisted it until it hurt then warned them that he wasn’t as inexperienced as they thought. Although, if anyone but Gavin was standing at the food court entrance staring at that group of jerks, Ritch would have ignored them and continued past to get the juice he was there for. If anyone but Gavin was mouthing off at him with those people behind him, he wouldn’t have punched them, he more likely would have slapped a hand over their mouth and signaled for them to be quiet. Although, that’s more because that method would probably work on anyone who wasn’t Gavin.

    He also truly wasn’t lying when he stated that the fight was fun, especially after they moved on from the basic punching and kicking; when there were no real rules to the fight but there was a silent understanding to not aim to seriously injure. He’s never fought like that with anyone before. It was exciting, and Ritch doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t know how to feel about anything anymore.

    “I don’t know. I do know that I wouldn’t have reacted in certain ways if the person I was sparring with wasn’t Gavin, but I also doubt that I would have aided anyone who wasn’t Gavin or Connor with this, and this isn’t something Connor would do in the first place.”

    Ritch looks up to meet Marshal Fowler’s eyes. The other man immediately huffs and turns to Gavin.

    “And you, I’m guessing you fought just because that’s what you do when you’re mad? You didn’t know when to quit?”

    Ritch looks to Gavin and is surprised to meet the pilot’s gaze instead of seeing the side of his head. He looks like he’s a mixture of curious, mad, and frightened of all things, and his shoulders are tense with whatever concoction of emotions he’s feeling. Ritch tilts his head in question, which causes Gavin to snap out of it with a deep scowl, and turn to Marshal Fowler with a sarcastic smile.

    “You know I always have fun when I’m brawling–”

    “I already know what your punishment is going to be, so don’t try to lessen it.”

    That makes Ritch sit straight and eyebrows furrow. He didn’t think Gavin was trying to do anything beyond his usual shenanigans.

    “And if you’re gonna do what I think you’re gonna do, then I want no fucking part of it.”

    “You don’t have a say in the matter.”

    “Like fuck I don’t! It’s my–”

    Marshal Fowler points to the screen forcefully. “Take one look at that video and try to tell me that you two aren’t compatible.”

    Ritch freezes. Gavin and Marshal Fowler keep talking and yelling but he suddenly can’t understand or even properly hear them.

    Compatible? I can be compatible with someone who isn’t Connor? Without retraining myself completely?

    Closing his mouth, not knowing when it opened in the first place, he reaches over to restart the video. He leans forward in his chair and watches the feed carefully, pretending this is another one of Amanda’s exercises– that it isn’t him and Gavin in the video, that it’s just two random people. How would he rate the pair’s compatibility, taking into account these two people have only been speaking to each other for less than a month (if the taunts he and Gavin trade can even be considered “talking”, that is).

    Several minutes later, once the video is over, his analysis is that he and Gavin are, objectively, extremely compatible for combat. Take that and add the fact that they both enjoy making fun of each other often despite Gavin clearly disliking it when anyone else does so and the fact that they have the potential to work well together outside of combat as well, if the initial breaking into the room is anything to go by… Ritch slowly sits up and leans back into his chair, not focusing on anything in particular as he rests his chin in his palm and lets his fingers cover his mouth in thought.

    They could absolutely be compatible with a little training and getting properly used to each other. They definitely could be drift compatible.

    Ritch knew he’d need to get a new partner, of course. He knew this. Yet, somehow he’s completely shocked that he could be compatible with anyone who isn’t Connor. He always assumed that if he was, then his twin would still be the closest he could get to true drift compatibility, and the other partner would be a case of “close enough”. Although, fighting with and against Connor has always been more of a chore than anything else, especially since it happened, and this fight with Gavin was just… not.

    Is that how sparring with someone is supposed to be? Enjoyable? He thought it was supposed to be a chore because jaeger pilots are not supposed to be fighting against one another, they’re supposed to fight and work together. He doesn’t know anymore. The one thing he does know nowadays is that he doesn’t know anything anymore, that nothing in this new world fits anything he thought he knew before. He doesn’t know if he can handle anything more being proven false in his life. He doesn’t know–

    “Hey ass-face.”

    Ritch blinks hard and turns to Gavin. A part of him knows that he should express his confusion instead of staring blankly at him, but a larger part of him is too tired and unsteady to even try. He then abruptly remembers that he’ll have to get better at conveying emotions before he starts doing it around Gavin because the new and failed attempts make the pilot extremely uncomfortable.

   Or would he be considered a trainee, now that they’re apparently partners? Or would RItch be considered an unofficial pilot?

    “Ritch.” Marshal Fowler calls in a more gentle voice, “You okay?”

    Ritch blinks again and forces his attention on him with a sharp nod. Why is his head moving so slow? Isn’t getting a new partner something he wanted? Everything he wanted, recently? It definitely still is, and he knows a part of him is happy–

    “Your punishment for the fight is rooming with Reed for the indefinite future and making an effort to get along on the basis of possibly being drift compatible. We’ll talk about the breaking and entering and theft when the people in charge of this contraband case has time to go over it with you. Go pack up your stuff, Stern.”

    Ritch sits up stiffly at that and his eyes go wide in realization. “Connor has never slept in a room on his own before. I don’t know if it’s wise for me to leave so suddenly–”

    “He’s a grown man. He can handle having a room to himself for now. And you’ll be talking to someone about that later too, with Connor and a therapist present.”

    Ritch decides against saying how he’s nervous to share a bunker with someone as potentially dangerous and unstable as Gavin. What if the pilot does something to his clothes or other belongings while he’s away or sleeping? The only reason he’s not worried about something happening to himself is because he’s a relatively light sleeper, but even then…

    “Why the hell have you two been sharing a room for so long? I understand sharing as children, but two adult brothers? You’re supposed to be young prodigies, so your what, 25? 26? That’s around how old Anderson and Fowler went on their first mission–”

    He turns to Gavin as he explains, “We were training to be pilots together. We can’t mourn or wish for separate rooms or more privacy if we never had it in the first place. And Connor and I are 23.”

    “Jesus christ. What the fuck.”

    Ritch tilts his head. “It’s sound logic.”

    Gavin looks at him like he’s growing a second head. “No the fuck it isn’t! And what the hell do you mean you’re 23? The legal age is 25–”

    “Nope! Okay, take this conversation outta my office. If you want to talk about that, do it while Stern is packing or when you’re in your bunker tonight. I’ve already had to sit through this particular talk twice, and I’m not going for thirds.”

    Gavin makes a sound that’s between a huff and a growl and storms out. He somehow manages to slam the door both open and closed, but Ritch tries to ignore this and instead stands and meets the marshal’s eyes.

    “May I show that video to Connor?” He says, pointing to the tablet on the desk, “He may not fully understand otherwise. And he really hasn’t slept anywhere on his own before–”

    Marshal Fowler interrupts with a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be in here for a little while longer. You can grab him and show him this video if you think you really have to.”

    Ritch is already nodding before he finishes speaking.

    “Thank you, Marshal Fowler. I won’t be long, so I won’t hold you up.” He turns and leaves briskly, unable to completely contain whatever this new nervous energy is.

    “Just don’t think you’re gonna get out of this with your brother’s help!” the marshal calls after him.

    Ritch pauses by the door to the hallway to nod in affirmation. He doubts Connor would try to help him anyway, not with Marshal Fowler dealing the punishments and the video as proof. Besides, even if he did want to help, Ritch doubts he could be convincing enough to do anything.

    “Hey, baby face.”

    Ritch sighs to hide a groan and closes his eyes to hide the fact he’s rolling them. It doesn’t matter that Gavin’s tone is softer than Ritch has ever heard it before (though, that isn’t saying much), he just wants to break the news to Connor and process all of this on his own. Unfortunately, however, The sigh is enough of an acknowledgment for Gavin, who then continues talking.

    “Are you really 23 years old? Coulda sworn you were 26.”

    Ritch turns to him lazily, asking, “Why would I lie about my age in front of the marshal?” He starts walking down the hall. “I’m 23 as of a couple of weeks ago.”

    “How the hell did you even get accepted–”

    Ritch spins sharply to meet Gavin’s eyes with stress-induced irritation, and that’s thankfully enough to get the pilot to silence himself.

    “In the light of having to work together for who knows how long, you should also know that Connor and I have spent nearly every day training since we were a little under 11 just so we could become pilots, which is the only reason we were able to bypass the legal age limit and be accepted into this program at 22 years old. I also apologize in advance because that’s also why I will sometimes seem arrogant and cocky about my skills while other times I won’t have a damn clue of what anyone is talking about or referencing to. I don’t mean for either of those things to happen, but that’s what a group of my friends tell me happens anyway, and I have a feeling it will be a major point of irritation for you.”

    Ritch pauses to take a deep breath and calm himself since he was slowly getting worked up the longer he ranted. And that’s what it was, a rant. He’s tired of having those things– maybe also some others that he can’t think of at the moment– being constantly speculated on by other people. It’s exhausting in a way he didn’t expect when he made Connor agree to keep their decade of training a secret. He almost regrets asking Connor to do so, now.

    Gavin stays unnaturally and uncomfortably silent even though Ritch has just given him the perfect opportunity to mouth off back at him. With a small sigh, he turns around to head back to his dorm to fetch Connor and pack his things, but pauses after a step. He looks over his shoulder as he starts explaining.

    “I didn’t tell you this so you’ll treat me differently like everyone else seems to think they need to do. I told you this so you’ll be slightly more prepared for the unpleasant memories I have in my head in the case we enter the drift together. And maybe so you’ll be more likely to let me use your phone or something to look stuff up when I don’t want to ask the other people I hang around.” He faces forward and starts walking again. “See you this evening, water grass. I hope your room is cleared of porn magazines, or whatever it is you normal, adult men stash in their rooms.” He’ll make a small dig at himself if it means any chance of getting things back to normal.

    He hears a scoff. Ritch is glad his back is turned because he can’t quite hide the relieved and pleased smile at the promise of Gavin insulting him; a step closer to to Ritch’s new normal.

    “Fuck you, retch. I don’t buy that kind of shit. You better not bring your books on whatever robotic shit you get off on, though, or I swear to god I’ll burn them all.”

    Ritch hums sarcastically, enjoying the pilot’s grumbling at the lack of a real reply.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor is sitting at his and Hank’s table, picking at his lunch tray absent-mindedly.

    He doesn’t know how to feel about Ritch moving out so soon. Sure, he wrote down in his journal that Ritch would be more compatible with Gavin Reed, but that was more of a note to not even make an attempt with the irritable pilot than an observation of the pair. Although, this certainly makes the weird, insulting conversation they had when Alex went crazy make more sense.

    “Hey Connor.” Hank greets tiredly, a tray of food in his hands. It throws Connor off for a second; he’s usually the one to greet Hank first, not the other way around.

    Connor accepts the distraction from his thoughts with a small smile, nonetheless.

    “Hello Hank. Did you rest well?”

    Hank hums and nods his head once. He actually got restful sleep, then, even if it was only for a couple hours. If he hadn’t, he would have just grunted or tried to glare at him (key word being tried. Hank hasn’t been good at being genuinely mean to him lately, or maybe Connor is just desensitized to it). Besides, he’s pretty sure he saw Hank in his old tennis shoes, rather than the ratty slippers he wears when it’s a particularly bad day.

    North and Markus have let him know that it can be creepy to keep all these small tabs on different people, but studying habits to use to navigate people’s moods has been an important self-taught lesson while co-existing with Amanda and sharing a room with Ritch. Old habits die hard, after all, especially the useful ones.

    “You saw me this morning, didn’t you? Why didn’t you ask me then?” Hank grumbles.

    “Well, we were too busy talking about a variety of things then, so I never got to ask.”

    Hank shakes his head and rolls his eyes not unkindly.

    I wonder what has him in such a good mood today, Connor wonders to himself. He seems less drunk than usual, so he didn’t get another secret stash of alcohol...

    “Yeah yeah. I slept for three good hours. You happy, mom?” Hank takes a large bite of his food.

    Connor pauses before he nibbles on his lasagna, his fork still close to his mouth as he asks without thought, “Are mothers known to ask people how well they slept?”

    Hank pauses at eating his meal and just stares at him. Connor, having the distinct feeling that he said something weird or wrong again, scoops even more food onto his fork and shoves it in his mouth so he can’t give in to his impulse to ramble.

    “Y’know, Connor, sometimes you say things that somehow make me more depressed than I already am, but also make me wanna punch someone at the same time.” he finally takes another bite.

    Connor lowers his head as he swallows. “Sorry.”

    “Not your fault.”

    He frowns. “But you said that I–”

    “And I said it ain’t your fault.” he restates with finality, then sighs. “Mothers are stereotypically known to nag and ask their children about little things, like how they slept, if they’re hurt, if they’ve eaten enough– those kinds of things.” He mumbles something that sounds like “jesus christ” under his breath.

    “Sorry. For being clueless about these things.” he adds when Hank looks like he’s about to snap at Connor for apologizing again. “I’m trying to learn these little things as fast as I can, but it can be hard to do when I don’t have a way to regularly access the internet and the people who do can’t read my mind and tell me what I’m missing.” He finishes with a small, awkward smile.

    Hank nods with a weird mixture of a grimace and a smile then turns back to his food. Connor simultaneously doesn’t mind it and hates it because he desperately needs a distraction, but he doesn’t force Hank to talk any more than he wants to. This is about how long their conversations have been lasting recently. He doesn’t want to move progress backwards just so he can procrastinate thinking about being on his own for who knows how long. Being on his own isn’t even that nerve wracking, not that being without his brother for literally the first time in his life isn’t making him a little nervous, but that alone is manageable. It’s that this is all yet another change that’s happened while he’s been trying to regain stability in his new routine. He’s tired of his entire world being flipped over and over.

    He takes another small bite out of his food, wondering if he should have offered to help Ritch pack. After all, North, Josh, Markus, and Simon all talked about helping each other pack when they moved into their own apartment. He only has to spend a couple seconds thinking about trying to help Ritch when he realizes he would have just gotten in the way and irritated his brother. They didn’t even help each other pack their few belongings when they moved out of Amanda’s manor, why would he want help moving to another hall? Especially since Ritch already seemed tense enough as it was.

    Apparently he’s going to bother Hank more this lunch, after all. He doesn’t want to think about this anymore, but it’s the only thing his brain wants to think about for whatever reason, despite the fact that anything on the topic there was to think about has already been exhausted. He’s just repeating facts and predictions over and over again, and it’s getting annoying.

    Therefore, Connor blurts the first thing that comes to mind that isn’t Ritch or being alone.

    “Do you like dogs?”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    ”Do you like dogs?” What kind of fuckin’ question is that?

    Hank probably looks as surprised and confused as Connor does, if not more. It’s a shock because Hank is supposed to be the surprised one since Connor’s the one who asked the question and he’s also supposed to be the stoic one, the one who doesn’t really let things affect him.

    And why the hell does Connor want to know if he likes dogs, anyway? What brought that up. If Hank has him figured out like he thinks he does, the trainee doesn’t ask unrelated questions. Unimportant, yes, more often than Hank would like, honestly, but never completely unrelated.

    “Yes.” he answers slowly, unsurely. “Why do you need to know?”

    Connor visibly hesitates. “I– I don’t?”

    Well that doesn’t sound like the usual Connor at all. Usually by now he starts rambling about why he needs or wants to know, then backtracks to explain how he came to think about whatever topic that prompted him to ask his question. Normally, when someone rambles like Connor does, Hank vows to get rid of them quickly, but Connor always has a surprisingly logical way of thinking that make his random topic jumps and rambling make sense. The small part of Hank that’s a nosey asshole has always liked it, even if the rest of him only puts up with it at best.

    Hank opens his mouth to ask what he means by “I don’t need to know”, but Connor starts rambling before he can actually say anything.

    “I don’t know. I just, I like the idea of having a pet? Even though I’ve never had one before? Like, I read that some dogs can help with stress and stuff, and I only looked that up because I noticed that someone around here walks around with a bulldog, but I don’t think I’d like one that small? It’d stress me out even more because I’d be afraid of stepping on it–”

    Good god, he’s a fuckin’ mess today, ain’t he? This rambling isn’t making much sense at all. If Hank actually puts thought into Connor’s words it makes sense, but he usually doesn’t have to.

    “What’s your favorite dog, then?” Hank surprises himself by asking.

    Connor’s mouth clicks shut as he freezes.

    “What?” he eventually asks. Apparently that pause wasn’t him thinking about his answer, then. He really is a mess today, huh?

    “You’re rambling about dogs, and you implied you did some research, so what’s your favorite dog breed.”

    As much as Hank wants to tell himself that he just wants Connor to start making sense or stop or slow his rambling, he really is just curious about what the trainee thinks his ideal dog would be. He already said he doesn’t like the idea of having smaller pets, so his taste in dog breeds can’t be horrible. Not that small dogs are bad, but still. 

    “Oh. Well. I haven’t looked too much into breeds, but I liked the way people described Labradors and Golden Retrievers. They’re usually portrayed as being very happy and cuddly dogs, even if they’re also kinda protective and want to eat everything. From what I saw, I don’t think I’d like german shepherds all that much. They have a lot of energy and take a lot of work and I’ve never had a pet, so it might be too much at first, especially in a space like this.” He gestures around the room. “I’d almost want a cat since they can move out of the way quickly if I’m about to step on them and are super soft, but they’re small and–”

    “And they’re usually assholes.” Hank finishes. Although, judging by Connor’s confused expression, that’s not what he was going to say.

    “What?”

    Hank rolls his eyes as he says, “Oh come on, Connor. You can’t tell me you did research on pets and didn’t see that most cats were assholes. There’s no way.”

    “I didn’t really do research on pets in general. Just dogs. I heard– uh–” He falters, then pauses for a moment, obviously contemplating something. “I heard that they can be trained to help comfort people? And as I’m sure a lot people around here know by now, I can be a mess when it comes to people. Like, point me towards a kaiju or fight and I’ll hold my own well, but tell me to have a normal conversation with a few strangers and I’ll probably start internally panicking right there on the spot.” Connor huffs a stressed-sounding laugh and starts picking at his food again.

    Hank can definitely relate to that. God, if it weren’t for Jeff saving his ass at almost every interview and other bull shit gathering in the beginning of their career, he surely would have been put on the back burner instead of front and center like he was. Possibly both of them would have, and if that had happened, there’s no way he would’ve been able to stay here at the base even though he’s a hop and a skip away from being completely useless these days.

    A small part of him thinks he should probably do something about his uselessness, but the rest of him doesn’t see the point. The damage has already been done, enough to the point of no return. And isn’t this a common scenario since he’s met Connor? Some small pieces of his mind suddenly wanting to change how things have been for years for whatever reason.

    Well, several things have already changed around him since these twins arrived, so what’s changing just one more thing among the others, right? He’s having a good day today, anyway, for whatever reason.

    “I– uh…” Hank rubs the back of his neck, “I get that. I grew up with dogs. They help. If they’re trained right, that is.”

    There, once more tiny change. Giving away a bit of personal information where he would usually grunt and glare. Connor’s wide eyes and slightly-dropped jaw is absolutely worth the onslaught of memories of his old dogs; Captain the corgi, Snow the black lab, Lex the tan mutt, and the first and last dog he’s had on his own rather than shared with his family–

    “Have you raised any puppies?” Connor blurts with eyes that are still wide.

    Hank sighs, “Yea, I have. Once. He was a good lug of a dog.”

    Sumo was easily one of the best dogs he’s ever had in his life, mainly because he took in that runt of a sickly pup for a huge discount and got him all healthy himself. He was still a bit small for a Saint Bernard, even when he stopped growing, but he was always a damn smart dog and very loving and protective of Hank, eventually Cole too when he came around...

    “Do you think the people in charge will let me get a dog? A bigger one?”

    Hank raises an eyebrow, mostly glad to have a distraction from that mess of memories, but also curious of what Connor’s getting at.

    “You were serious about the dog thing?”

    “Yes?” Connor tilts his head and frowns.

    Hank didn’t realize that he was being completely serious about that. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think it was serious– Connor rarely brings up unrelated topics– but no one can blame Hank. He hasn’t had a conversation last this long or remain this peaceful in a long time. It’s almost… nice.

    Hank shakes his head as if he can physically remove that last thought from his mind as he back tracks in the conversation a bit. He’s starting to need his own distraction with how weird his own head’s being now.

    “When you say bigger, what do you mean?”

    Thankfully, Connor takes it in stride like he seems to do with most things relating to Hank; there’s little confusion and no hesitation in his answer. Finally, Connor’s getting back to whatever version of normal he is.

    “I’ve seen people walk Labradoodles and Golden Retrievers by our manor before. I don’t think I want anything much smaller than them. I want to be able to hug my dog and I don’t want to hurt them by squeezing too hard or stepping on them. Plus, I read that small dogs can be yappy and can bark more than a lot of larger dogs. I don’t know how true that is, though. I just want something that can help ground me.”

    Hank hums in approval. Even Captain, as well trained and adorable as he was, was prone to barking and yipping a lot when he was excited or wanted attention. It was always cute at first until he wanted to play and everyone had work or school to do. Bigger dogs may take more care, but he prefers them over the small ones, unlike his parents had. Hank turns back to his food and starts eating.

   Just after his second bite is when Hank’s mind (un)helpfully reminds him of the reason why Connor’s been contemplating getting a dog in the first place.

    He always figured that Connor had some type of social anxiety– kind of hard not to tell when the guy puts up with Hank just to get some so-called “peace” during his day– and it’s been clear for weeks now that, while they act amicable enough towards each other when around others, the twins don’t get along as well as people may think. He remembers the epiphany he had about them being like how he and Fowler were towards the end of their stint as pilots.

    But none of that really matters at the moment, or preferably ever.The real question is, would they let Connor have a dog?

    It takes no time at all to come to the conclusion that, yes, they would let him have a dog if it was only dependent on how much good it would do him. In reality, he’ll probably have to find a partner that has had a pet before or something. Maybe they could have him do some kind of personality assessment to see if he actually could handle it? That seems like a thing people have to do to get an animal out here anyway.

    “They might.” Hank shocks himself by speaking aloud.

    “Who might what?” Connor asks, putting his cup down and giving Hank his full attention again. How long had the silence lasted? Almost all of Connor’s food is gone now...

    “The people in charge of whatever that would give you permission to get you a dog. They might let you have one. Not immediately, and probably not until you have a second person to help care for it since you have no experience, but I think you have enough of one if your– what do you guys call ‘em? dip days?–”

    “–Mood dips–”

    “–Yea, that. You get enough of those, which, from what I can tell and what you’ve told me, even an untrained animal could maybe help with. You just gotta prove that you’re responsible enough to take care of it and that you actually need it, which shouldn’t be an issue.” Hank stuffs the last bit of his food in his mouth to keep him from running his damn mouth any longer.

    God, if he’s fucking lonely enough to be talking about nonsense with some trainee, then maybe he could use a dog. Not that they would ever in a million years let him have one; he can barely take care of himself most days, let alone an animal. He has a feeling that even if he did the impossible and cleaned up his act, they still wouldn’t let him have one because of his self-sabotaging history.

    Wow, self-sabotaging. That’s a term he hasn’t heard or used since his bout of therapy years ago. Yet another small change in the flaming wreck that is Hank Anderson’s post-pilot life. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s finally kicked out soon. He doesn’t even know how he’s managed to stay this long in the first place.

    There’s another lengthy pause where Hank finishes his drink, and right as he’s about to start getting up, Connor takes an audible. His head is down and shoulders hunched in the textbook form of hesitance. Considering Hank has already done plenty today that he wouldn’t normally do (namely just having a civil conversation with someone other than himself), he figures it wouldn’t hurt to stick around until Connor can get himself together. He’ll say that today was a weird day if it’s ever brought up, and it wouldn’t even be lying.

    Connor sighs and glances up at where Hank sits, then does a double take as if he wasn’t expecting Hank to be there. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, then clicks shut and his head falls again. Hank feels his own face twist up in a familiar grimace, then starts putting his trash and dishes onto the small tray so it can all be carried away.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor has apparently used up all of his courage and energy for this conversation and now can’t even look Hank in the eyes and apologize for taking so much of his time today. He doesn’t know exactly why he’s suddenly so uneasy around Hank, but he has a feeling it has to do with his new resolve to get the man to like him enough to maybe, possibly, try going into the drift. Even a single training session, even if it was the bare basics of combat, would please Connor.

    He watches subtly as Hank starts to clear his things and opens his mouth to apologize again, when the only useful words of the therapist he tried yesterday abruptly comes to mind.

    ”The first thing you can try for constant apologizing is stop apologizing and start thanking. Instead of saying sorry for not making sense or for getting something wrong, thank the person you’re with for being patient and trying to understand.”

    Maybe it’s a good thing he’s been stalling. Thanking actually seems easier to do than apologizing right now. Besides, Hank has mentioned multiple times that he doesn’t understand why Connor apologizes so often, and he always acts disgruntled even when he doesn’t say anything about the apology. After a success like today, he doesn’t want to taint the end of it with irritation.

    “Thank you, for listening to me today.” Connor finally manages to say, albeit softly. He clears his throat and forces his voice to go a little louder, “You didn’t have to entertain me today, or ever really, so thank you for doing so.”

    He finally manages to find the strength to look up at Hank, who had just stood up when Connor began thanking him. He now stands very still with something like surprise twinkling in his blue eyes as he seemingly studies Connor. While in this look and posture, Connor can very easily see how much strength and intellect Hank still has hidden under his unkempt hair and old, loose clothing. It only enhances his desire to have Hank be his partner, seeing that he still could very well be a pilot if he had the motivation and drive to.

    Connor realizes with shock that he feels nervous because, not only does he want to have the chance to see if he’s compatible with Hank– to pilot with him if all goes well– he also wants to be one of the reasons that gives the motivation and drive back to Hank.

    He doesn’t know what happened to make Hank this stand-offish with other people, but Connor wants to show Hank that he can put his trust in him and he won’t disappear.

    Connor knows that Ritch would call this hero-worship or hero-complex or something like that, but this feels distinctly different from anything like that. He hasn’t changed his mind on his view of saving people– he is still very aware from personal experience that the only ones who can save people are themselves– but he doesn’t want to just give Hank nudges and reminders every now and then anymore. He wants to help guide him, and maybe in a perfect world, have him guide Connor as well.

    He knows this isn’t a realistic scenario whatsoever, but a guy can still dream and hope, right? No damage done as long as Connor doesn’t actually go meddling. That kind of thing isn’t any of his business, anyway.

    Connor only realizes he’s been staring at Hank this entire time when the ex-pilot’s jaw suddenly tenses. Hank looks down and to the side with a contemplative expression before nodding.

    “Yeah,” he says in an oddly somber way, quickly glancing at Connor with a look he can’t quite read or understand. “No problem.”

    He slowly turns, then starts walking away. Connor follows his movements with just his eyes, curious as to what Hank is feeling or thinking. He walks as if he hadn’t gotten enough good sleep the previous night, but without the various signs of irritation and aggression that always go along with it. Connor takes the last bite of his food as he sees Hank stroll out of the cafeteria.

    As Connor piles up his own lunch dishes on his tray (Is it only lunch still? This day already feels like it’s lasted a year.) he tries to come up with a reason why Hank’s attitude changed so suddenly. Connor didn’t accidentally remind him of something from his past, did he? He hopes not, he thinks as he leaves everything to be washed and exits the food court. The last thing he wants is to be sent a step back before he can actually put effort into getting Hank to trust him. Not that he really knows how he’s going to get the older man to understand that it’s safe to like and trust another human in the first place.

    Maybe he just needs to keep doing what he’s doing, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Stay on Hank’s side– even when it doesn’t exactly follow protocols– keep talking to him about things and treat him how Connor himself likes to be treated. Treat him like he isn’t a broken mess of a human like he’s gathered everyone else does from the things Hank says or has said to him, because Hank isn’t really broken.

    Maybe it really is enough to be the one person in this entire base that treats him like a normal human being, rather than the broken-down shadow of what was once the one and only Hank Anderson. Thinking of anyone like that is a sure-fire way to alienate someone, even without realizing it. Connor would know, with how often he was placed in Ritch’s shadow under Amanda’s care, and he isn’t almost world-wide famous like Hank was– still mostly is.

    That makes Connor pause with his hand on his and Ritch’s bunker door. He hasn’t thought of Hank as anything more than “Hank, the one guy who doesn’t ask too many questions and newest potential partner” and “Mr. Anderson, the retired pilot who prefers to be left alone” since the first couple of days. He hasn’t thought about what kind of media may be needed or wanted if he somehow successfully gets Hank to partner with him. Not that Hank would partner with him any time soon, if at all, but in this hypothetical, perfect world in his head, there’d probably be a lot of interviews and cameras. There’d probably be just a lot of people asking him “How did you manage to bring the famous Hank Anderson back to the field?”

    He doesn’t like that thought. He doesn’t know how he would answer, or if he’d even answer at all. Maybe if he’s lucky, Hank would step in and help–

    Connor takes half a step into the bunker. Seeing that half of everything that used to be inside is now gone is a harsh reminder that this is the real world. In the real world, he’s going to have to fall asleep without being able to hear Ritch’s breathing to let him know he won’t be alone if he has a nightmare. Ritch rarely ever helped him through nightmares, and Connor doubts he knew how frequent they used to be, but just having another living, breathing being in the room always helped immensely. Just knowing he wasn’t alone but wouldn’t be bothered usually did wonders for getting him out of bed, and why it’s been more difficult to since being here. Here, everyone either leaves him completely alone or bothers him until they leave.

    He turns and exits the bunker even though he hadn’t stepped completely inside yet. He needs to find Markus since he knows a lot of the “community” computers will be taken up by now or will be needed by others for more important things soon. Markus and Simon are the only two people he knows he can ask for their phones for research and have them truly not mind.

    He’s going to at least try to ask about getting a dog, but he wants to do at least some research on what breeds would be best for this kind of environment. Hopefully the more he knows and the more specific he is about his reasoning and options, the more likely whoever would be in charge of allowing Connor to take care of an animal will let him have one.

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Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Heyo! So, funny story I thought I posted this chapter in mid-May? So last week I was reading through it to make the final edits before posting and realized why it was never posted Lol (three characters went wildly out of character for whatever reason 😂). So I rewrote the second half of this chapter, like, 4 times, and I’m still kind of iffy about it because 90% of it is just dog nonsense and people going “what the hell is happening now”, but hopefully it isn’t as filler-y and redundant as I think it is.

Good news, though! Next chapter will have a lot more Gavin and Ritch action! I plan on making most or all of it following those two around. 😄

Well, I think that’s all for now? Your comments/likes/reblogs give me life, so don’t feel shy to talk or ramble to me! 😊 I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter (hopefully the next one will be up within a week or two). Have a good day/night, and stay as safe and healthy as you can! 💕

[fandom-necromancer]

Coffee, Crushes and Complications Part 4

This was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Prequel]   [Part1]   [Part2]   [Part3]

Hey how is my favourite toaster doing?< >The interview already finished? Yeah, didn’t go as planned but it might be useful still.< >Got thrown out? Yes, asshole slipped up and when asked about it refused to answer any further questions.< But I can work with that, use it against him.< How’s work?< >Not a good day for both of us. >Tina’s in trouble. What? How?< >Her brother had connections to the Red Ice trade. She didn’t see him for years.< >I know. He tried to manipulate people into letting him go saying his sister was a cop too but in a way that raised suspicion. >I’m sure everything will be fine, but Tina can’t prove her innocence. At least suspension until everything is settled is possible. That’s real shitty. Should I come over? You didn’t have your break yet, did you?<

Gavin left it at that and entered a new address for the automated taxi. He knew the android always was on time, punctuality was something important to him. It could be annoying, but most of the time it was nice to know he was reliable. Gavin sat back and watched the city fly by. It was hard to acknowledge it had only been a few months of them dating. It definitely felt longer. It was both as if they had spent a lifetime together already and had met just yesterday. But Gavin liked it that way. It was comfortable to know the feelings were still there even when the thrill of discovering something new in his boyfriend had subsided. Once Gavin had been able to trust the android, all the difficulties of their beginning had been forgotten. As promised, he didn’t try to think ahead too much, but he wouldn’t mind this to last.

The taxi stopped in front of the fifth precinct and Gavin stepped out onto the pavement. It still felt weird seeing it like this. This building had been his second home for more than half of his life and now it was just another concrete block in Detroit. Since being thrown out he hadn’t actually set a foot into it, only driven the RK900 to and from work sometimes. >No, I haven’t yet, you can come inside. I told the reception you were coming. Well, now he had to. He opened the door and entered the lobby. It was interesting how little had changed. The walls had been repainted, otherwise it looked just like his memory of the place. ‘Hello Mr. Reed!’ ‘Hey, Steph. Long time no see.’ The ST300 smiled at him as she always had, only that now it only deepened the feeling of being out of place. ‘Richard told me you would visit. Go on, head in. I don’t think anyone would mind.’ ‘Thanks.’ He was already on his way to the security gates as she called after him: ‘Good to see you are well!’

He didn’t let his thoughts linger on that comment. He was sure it was just a sentence said to be polite. Tina and Rich were the only people knowing of his breakdown, they wouldn’t have told anyone. The precinct was busy as it had always been. Phones ringing and the low mumble of conversations created a pleasant background noise of hard work. He didn’t have to look for long until his eyes found his old desk, now Detective Richard’s as the plate announced. ‘Hey, Nines, I’m here.’ He took the freedom to sit on the edge of his desk. The android looked up and smiled, retracting his hand, still white from the interface, from a small platform. ‘It’s good to see you.’ The hand found its way over to Gavin’s knee and rested there. Gavin laid his own on top and squeezed it. ‘You look tired, darling.’ ‘I am’, he sighed.

But before the RK900 could continue, someone else interrupted them. ‘Wait. “Nines”? “Darling”? What’s going on here.’ ‘Oh, hey Connor.’ ‘What are you doing here?’, the other RK asked. ‘I thought you’d been fired.’ ‘Oh, I’ve been’, Gavin shrugged. ‘I’m just visiting Richard during his break, don’t worry. And Nines is my nickname for him.’ ‘Nickname?‘ ‘You didn’t tell him?’, Gavin wondered and the android just groaned: ‘Didn’t think it would concern him. Connor, Gavin works as an investigative journalist now. We met after we were at the café with Hank, remember?’ ‘Oh. Okay. Hope he treats you good.’

Gavin huffed. ‘That I hope, too. How’s life for you? You made it Lieutenant, right? Congrats to that.’ Connor just stared at him disbelievingly. ‘So I’m not the stupid tin-can anymore?’ ‘Oh, no you still are. But I’m not the asshole human that cares anymore.’ Connor lifted his brows but didn’t get to answer as the trio was already gathering attention: People all around where whispering. Gavin grimaced at the attention. ‘Hey, Nines, do you mind spending your break outside? I could treat you to a coffee?’ ‘Normally I’d gladly take the offer, but I think we are too late for that.’ He subtly pointed into the direction of Fowler’s office where the Captain was already heading their way. ‘Oh, hell no…’

‘Gavin!’ Fowler had stopped in front of him, arms outstretched with a grin as if seeing him had made him the happiest he had been in years. ‘Fowler’, Gavin nodded, trying to keep his voice as neutral and level as possible. ‘Hey, is that how you greet an old friend?’ ‘Friend?’, Gavin asked. ‘What happened to me being the worst humanity has to offer?’ ‘What? I never said that.’ Gavin shrugged, inspecting his nails. ‘Maybe not, but I know to read between the lines.’ ‘Well anyways, it’s good to see you! I watch your show every time it’s on TV. You really have talent!’ ‘Thanks’, Gavin commented, side-eying Nines to make it stop. ‘You are underappreciated where you work right now, so I thought you might like what I am offering you: You can come back! You could be a detective again, where your abilities are needed. How about that, hm?’

Gavin looked at him wide-eyed, Nines turned around and Connor took a step back. Fowler was oblivious to the change in atmosphere though and laughed, clapping Gavin on the shoulder. ‘I knew you would like it!’ Gavin stood up. He wasn’t the tallest man, he would never be able to tower over someone like the Captain, but his stance alone made the man reconsider. ‘Like it? Are you phcking kidding me?’ Gavin couldn’t believe what he had heard, but the fury inside him was quick to change that. ‘You dare to offer me a job? After throwing me out like a phcking dog? I poured my everything into this job until there wasn’t much left inside me and then you fired me from one day to the next! You don’t want to know what that did to me. And it doesn’t have to plaque you, in the end it was the best to ever happen to me. But I want to know: do you really mean it? Do you really think you can lure me back in? Do you really think I want to come back?’

Fowler thought about it. ‘Err… Yes?’ Gavin laughed loudly and humourlessly. It bordered on hysterical. ‘Fowler. You goddamn phcking asshole. Who are you throwing under the bus to get me back now that you realised that maybe getting rid your cheating card wasn’t your best idea? Tina?’ The Captain swallowed, Gavin’s trained eyes immediately picking up on the admission. ‘Ah, so you are really trying to boot her out next. I can’t phcking believe it.’ He shook his head. ‘So, a no?’ Gavin smiled mad. ‘Oh, this is a no, alright.’ His smile faltered, as he shouted his next words: ‘I’m never coming back! I’m living a happy life. I have a job that captures my passion, co-workers that like me, I changed my way of living, I have friends and I have the most amazing person at my side. I would never ever come back to work under your lead. Not after what you said to me and not after what I now know you are playing. Because who knows when I might be inconvenient again and land on the street. Who knows when I may have to throw my friends under the bus to keep on your good side. No. I’m out and I’m happy that way. I was just visiting to spend Richard’s break with him, nothing more.’ He took a deep breath before continuing with a more level voice: ‘One thing I can promise you though.’ He smirked, as Fowler had finally understood he lost. ‘If you indeed use the word of some minor criminal, that could make up the whole story anyways, to kick out Tina, the topic of my next show will be police brutality, corruption and harassment in the workplace. I think I have enough first-hand experience to at least fill one evening and I can think of quite a few people willing to be interviewed.’

He threw the Captain a winning smile, before asking without breaking eye contact: ‘Alright Nines, how about that coffee break right now?’ The android grinned, standing up ignoring Fowler completely. ‘Gladly, my love.’