#caulk that shit!!!1!!11!

[kvtnisseverdeen]

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[protocolseben]

(3 days before flight)

"Rocky, should I untether Mark from the pipes?"

"Don't even think about it Sebastian. I don't want to get into trouble !"

»»» 11th Day of Mission

Load LOG : // SL-21-20XX-28-12_01…

(alternate title : fuck characterisation, hello OOC. get OOC pain'd.)

###########

23:04:26:85 UTC +1 CET

Recording? Ok...so today-

("Talking into your diary again like a girl, love? ")

"Fucking…" clunk "It's my logging session. I'll throw something at you."

("Did you forget where you are?")

"Fick dich."

("…I hope that's German for 'I like you a lot?' ")

< clunk >

recording terminated due to lack of sound / voice activity.

###########

END LOG SL-21-20XX-28-12_01

// -----------------------------

Load LOG : // SL-21-20XX-28-12_02…

###########

23:11:33:02 UTC +1 CET

…Ok, the light is on, it is recording now.

This morning the Earth looked bluer than usual, and I really liked it, so I grabbed the camera and quickly snapped a picture. My photography skills are good enough!

NASA's Jackson called us the noisiest astronauts ever. Fair... But he did remark on how efficiently Mark and I get the work done around the station, given the state and the age of the machines. We would really just split the massive amount of maintenance into two and made sure we tied up any loose ends, and they were always impressed.

Today we had to do a pretty massive job of putting on the NOAX stuff on the many of the station panels. It was our second time doing a spacewalk in only eleven days, so that's a big thing. And it was…four hours outside, putting basically space caulk. Heat really gets to these big guys! The application was less than fantastic though, as we had to use spatulas to put them on…it was a really careful science experiment. There's Mark and me, stuck to only the metal railings of the station for our lives, putting state-of-the-art things with some ma's spatula. It's hot doing this the whole day, just mashing this stuff in! Sweating in space is not fun…

I looked up the stuff when I got back from the work. They use these things in Formula 1 cars…? Well you learn something new everyday and experience new things too, but I'm not sure how this caulk thing will benefit that much… probably only useful if Michael Schumacher goes 27 thousand kilometres per hour, sure…

Ok, I have been putting off talking about Mark.

The previous recordings already have them, but for memory's sake, I will just mention it here. I know, I know, I'm going to be 24 next year, and here I am, still feeling like i'm in middle school with how I'm acting.

We've been co-workers for two years now, and we've had our fair share of being at each other's necks. Horner didn't help either. The only thing he had to say to us before we left was that we were like an old married couple. And to get "our shit sorted by the end of the trip".

Well…

It really is hard to put it into words. It was pretty obvious to everyone, so I am the idiot here. Hah... I tried not to think much of it, especially during the suit up procedure for the spacewalks. it needed two people anyway.

Before we went back into the airlock, the bastard went to unhook my tether off the metal railing! Fucker!! Do you know how screwed we'll get if I wasn't anywhere with the EMU? He had the gall to laugh in his suit. I should have just beaten his face in just now.

("You didn't mention me holding your hands?")

clnk

("oh shoot--")

recording terminated due to lack of sound / voice activity.

###########

END LOG SL-21-20XX-28-12-2

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

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 2/?)

Chapter 2: An Officer for Society

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

Only a few days after your meeting with Hank, human protestors bombed an android supply truck carrying thirium, wiring, pumps, components, and valuable parts. It was clearly not a robbery. Nothing was stolen. The intent was to destroy.

You had heard the news on the way in to work, and decided to drive yourself straight to the crime scene. Cops were still engaged in a shootout with the assailants, who had hunkered down behind some roadblocks and overturned concrete. Paramedics would have been on site if these were humans. Unsurprisingly, there were only cops.

The android that had been driving the truck was slumped over, hanging halfway out of the driver's seat. He had been impaled by a large piece of shrapnel and was stuck to the chair.

Ignoring the gunfire, you ran to his aid. The cops were too focused and too thinly spread to pay attention to you.

The android in the truck was so hyper focused on the wound that he did not see you approaching. He flinched violently when he noticed you suddenly standing by the driver's side.

"I-"

You shrieked when a bullet ricocheted and skimmed the edge of the truck, making a loud dinging sound right next to you.

"I-I'm gonna try to get you out. Please tell me your diagnostic report - just the critical," you pleaded.

The android stuttered a staticky noise through trembling lips. "Low thirium levels, low pressure valves, weakened motor functions, overheating."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good - none of that is imminent - gonna get you outta here."

The door was gaping open, barely hanging off the hinges. You propped up on the step that aided climbing into the cabin and leaned against the door frame. You wrapped your hands around the shrapnel protruding from the androids abdomen. It was completely coated in thick thirium, making it impossible to decipher, until you touched it. It was a thick piece of steel rebar, and there was no way you could get that out yourself.

"I need you to slide forward so we can get you off this," you pleaded with the android.

He drooped forward and huffed, whimpering static, gravely noises. "I can't - I can't."

"I want to save you, but I can't do it alone. Please help me."

The android's hands flexed, reaching, and stopped for a second, before he tried again, bracing himself against the dashboard. The angle was awkward, he was bleeding profusely, and your hands were covered in it, but you leaned in, wrapped your arms around his chassis, and tried to help him unimpale from the steel rebar.

He didn't seem to be in pain; but, he was panicking, he was scared. Through his clothes, you could feel how bad he was overheating, feel the vibrating of an overworked processor.

Finally, finally, you saw the other end of the rebar exit his body. You stepped down and helped him shimmy out of the truck. He nearly collapsed when he landed on his feet, but you were quick to sling an arm over your shoulder and encourage him to lean against you.

More cops had arrived, but you couldn't hear them over the sound of the android wheezing in your ear and your own heartbeat thundering in your head. Together, awkwardly, you managed to shuffle him away from the wreckage and carefully set him on the ground, helping him lay on his back.

Tools - you needed tools - shit -

"Don't move," you gently commanded him, scrambling to your feet and running to your car. It wasn't going to be pretty, but a soldering kit and some cheap android flesh would have to do.

"I don't have the good stuff - can only do a temporary patch job for now," you explained, pulling out the solder. He didn't seem at all perturbed by it. "I need to move your clothes," you explained, in a tone that was asking. He nodded and helped you pushed his shirt up to expose the wound.

It was a quick charge kit and was hot in a matter of seconds. One hand held the solder while the other held the molten plastic. Thankfully, you had done this enough times to know how not to burn your hands.

It looked bad, like caulking in drywall, but it stopped the bleeding and covered his wiring. With your hands occupied, you had to urge him yourself. "Roll over, please."

He obeyed enough for you to do an equally terrible job on the opposite wound. Once done, you dropped your equipment and used your hands to urge the android onto his back once more.

"Don't exert yourself," you instructed. He felt like a burning hot furnace, and it was making you sweat, even in this weather. He needed more thirium, now.

You saw panic dance behind his eyes and he tried to lift up. "No - no - no," you stammered, trying to push him back down. "I know you're overheating and that's scary, but please - please stay still. Put yourself in power saving mode and I'll get you more thirium."

The look in his eyes was quite familiar: distrust. "I don't have to listen t-"

"You're right. You don't. This isn't for me. This is for you," you said, panic, scolding, and determination heavy on your tongue. "I ran in there and I pulled you out of that damn truck and I promised to save you, but I can't if you don't-"

You trailed off as the android started to lean back. Understanding. That was one of your favorite looks.

"Thank you," you breathed as he settled back on the ground.

"P-please don't leave me here," he begged, hand reaching up to grab desperately at your wrist. Power-saving mode, on the ground, in the middle of the street, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. You didn't blame him in the slightest.

"I'm gonna help you walk out of here. I promise," you replied, gently removing his hand from your wrist. He nodded and leaned back until he was flat on the ground.

You saw his LED flicker from a strong red to yellow before dulling to nothing as he slowly powered down. When he was still enough, you pushed off of him and staggered to your feet.

Thirium - of course you didn't have thirium in your car. That stuff wasn't exactly easy to come by these days, and you couldn't afford to keep a stash of that lying around.

- the truck.

You eyed the vehicle. It was angled in a way that left the back exposed and potentially subject to gunfire. Undoubtedly, there was still lingering concerns over what kind of arsenal the assailants had.

The police had been too occupied to secure the perimeter; but, more cops had come pouring in and were working to get civilians out of the way.

You had thought that you heard your name, but didn't acknowledge it until you heard it again, louder. You spun around and saw Connor approaching, his police jacket flapping at his sides and his tie out of line.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he came to a halt in front of you. He eyed your thirium soaked clothes, concern heavy in his gaze.

"Holy shit, Connor, slow down," Hank breathlessly called out from behind him, struggling to keep up.

"I need to get thirium off that truck - or he's gonna die," you explained hastily, pointing at the android laying on the asphalt.

"We don't know the full extent of their arsenal," Connor explained. "There's no way-"

"Wasn't asking," you interrupted him, firmly.

You caught sight of Connor's LED flickering briefly to yellow before back to blue. Another cop ran up to the detectives, though his words failed to reach your ears. Connor and Hank turned their attention to him, long enough for you to make a decision.

You skirted around the android and made a beeline for the truck. You could hear Connor call out your name and gravel kick up under his feet as he started a pursuit.

"H-hey! Son of a bitch!" Hank's voice roared, almost drowned out by the gunfire. "Damn fucking kids," he cursed some more. "This damn shootout is going nowhere - HEY-!" Hank disappeared into the line of cops, shouting profanities.

The back of the truck had been blown up, leaving a gaping hole for crates to pour out of it. Many of those crates had thirium bags, which were punctured and leaking a goopy mess all over the floor. Some of them had to still be sealed.

Before you could get close enough, arms wrapped around you. Connor spun you around, torso pressed flat against your back, legs tangled. He rotated you away from the fire, placing himself between you and the ongoing shootout. Your bodies slammed against the side of the truck.

"Fucking - Connor, let me go!" you whaled.

"You're going to get yourself killed," he replied, some edge to his voice that you had not heard before, sharp on his tongue, like a scolding. Was he... angry? Considering all that was going on, it shouldn't have mattered, but breathed against your skull like that, it gave you chills.

Maybe, under different circumstances, you would have processed his closeness a little better.

"Haven't died yet," you hissed back, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

Almost like a taunt from the universe, another bomb went off. Considering the delay, it must have been an accident, likely intended to go off sooner. It was small, went off on the other side of the truck, but startled a scream out of you. You and Connor slipped to the ground. He wrapped himself around you as the ground shook and debris flew.

Chassis to torso, almost completely enveloped in him. You tried to brush him off to focus on the task at hand.

"Get back to the street," he breathed into your hair.

"Not yet!" you shouted back at him.

In the corner of your eye, you could see the crate holding thirium bags. The explosion had actually helped jostle it closer, or perhaps your tumble to the floor brought you closer.

You wiggled out of his grasp as best you could, just enough to shimmy over and yank one of the crates free. It clattered about, spilling thirium everywhere. You dragged your hands through the mess until you found a bag unpunctured.

You clutched it like a newborn child as Connor dragged you to your feet. He didn't have to tell you to run before you already started, back to the street, back to your patient, who was still in power saving mode, right where you left him.

Connor came up right behind you. There was some criticism hot on his tongue, but it died on his lips when he saw you fall to the ground.

You practically skidded to your knees as you dropped beside the damaged android. Connor could see that you were injured, not severely enough to cause any long term damage; but, it had gone completely unnoticed by you. You were completely focused on this android - someone you didn't know, someone you saw as so much of a person that they deserved the risk of your own life at the potential of being saved.

Connor didn't have need for this function, but he swallowed dryly. It was boiling over again: that admiration. He felt something else tug at his consciousness, a startling need to protect you.

You weren't asked to come here or drag yourself along the floor for this android. You shouldn't have even been here in the first place. You chose this.

He remembered what he was choosing to do and disappeared into the line of fire.

You reached for your bag, where you had left it on the ground beside the android, and only then noticed that your hand was cut up, bruised and bleeding. No matter. It could wait.

You emptied the contents uncaringly, seeking out the external thirium pump. It was just a tube and balancer, with the right connector, but it was necessary.

This android's model was new enough that he had the quick release hatch behind his ear. You sought it out, one arm cradling the android upright while the other opened the hatch on his upper back. You slid the pump past the protective layers and into the emergency valve, careful to secure it properly. Once you felt the reassuring snap, your trembling hand worked at the other end.

You carefully removed the blue blood bag's protective seal, struggling to twist it off with just one hand. Once the pump was connected to the thirium bag, you grasped it and gave a gentle squeeze, and it began to spurt through the tube and into the android's core.

"I need you to wake up now," you uttered, using a free, very dirty hand, to shake the android's shoulder. The verbal queue was more useful than the shaking, but you did it anyway.

He hummed to life immediately.

"Wha-"

"Please don't move too much. I'm transferring thirium," you explained hastily. The android's eyes landed on your eyes. You could see his eyes go distant as he performed a quick diagnostic check. It must have verified your claims for he visibly relaxed when he was done.

His hand slid over your hand that was holding his shoulder for balance.

"T-thank you," he uttered, embarrassed, ashamed maybe.

"You're welcome," you panted, trembling a little as the adrenaline rush finally caught up with you. "We're almost done," you told the android. "You're not overheating anymore?"

"No," he agreed, taking a stuttering breath.

In the time that you cared for this android, the world almost seemed unmoving. You weren't sure how many minutes had dragged on until the shooting subsided. Suddenly, all the cops starting cheering and you looked over with curiosity.

Connor emerged from the debris, dust covering his shoulders and the top of his head. He had one of the suspects in handcuffs, being dragged by the elbow. The man was resisting rather aggressively, but Connor hardly seemed perturbed by it. Members of swat were hot on his tail, other suspects in their custody.

It was over...

"Hey," you uttered to the android as you finished the transfusion. You carefully removed the pump, shifted his protective sheath back in proper place and snapped the back-access panel closed.

"They're gonna wanna talk to you - get your side of this whole thing. You're not in trouble. You're an eyewitness here."

His glance seemed uncertain, but then he nodded. "I-I understand." He looked over to the crowd of cops, watched as they rounded up the suspects.

"That - that cop is an android?" he asked, turning back to you questioningly, a glimmer in his eyes and excitement in his voice.

Your gaze landed on Connor again. Hank was giving him what appeared to be a congratulatory punch to the chest. Surrounding cops were smacking him on the back with huge smiles on their faces. Connor was trying to wear a humble look, but something proud was cracking at the seams of his smile. The corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled.

"Yes... he is..."

...

...

...

You watched from the sidelines as Hank and another cop took the android's statement. Considering what had happened today, what had been going on for months, you were afraid of the potential hostility. From what you could tell, thankfully, he had managed to stay rather calm.

"You are very reckless," Connor commented as he approached. When you looked at him, you could see some twinkle in his eyes. It was subtle, easy to miss on an otherwise calm demeanor.

He had attempted to dust the debris off at one point, but a thin layer still coated his shoulders and some sprinkles remained in his hair.

"Tch." You rolled your eyes fondly and shimmied over on the bench, giving him room to take a seat beside you.

"I heard you pulled that android out of the truck," he added on as he took a seat.

You were avoiding looking at him, mainly to avoid the emotions brewing inside you.

For a moment, Connor was silent. Gears were turning in his head as he tried to think of what to say to you. Part of him wanted to be outright honest about what he was feeling; but, it felt like an invisible wall was stopping him. Then, a different approach came to mind.

Connor relaxed his seated position, shoulders slumped, forearms on his lap, hands together as if he was pondering.

"Police interference..." he hummed. "Trespassing on a crime scene..."

Wait - what was he - ?

You whipped your head around to face the android, mouth agape in disbelief. Connor seemed pleased with himself, letting the faintest smirk grace his lips.

"You little shit-"

"Disrespecting an officer of the law-"

"That isn't a crime," you laughed. His grin was lopsided, but looked pretty good on him. His LED was illuminated a magnificent shade of blue.

"Reckless endangerment-"

"What?"

"-of yourself."

"Psh - Connor-..."

Your laugher died down and Connor's expression softened. He adjusted his tie. You watched him finick with the fabric for a second. It was hardly disturbed to begin with, maybe an inch lower from the apex of his collar. What a strange quirk, but you caught yourself thinking about how adorable it was.

"Are you injured?" the android suddenly asked.

"Uhm-" you stammered. You followed Connor's eyes to your hands. They were cut up and bruised. "I'll just walk it off."

"I don't believe walking will remedy-... Oh." You watched his LED flicker to yellow for a moment before back to blue.

You giggled.

"They said they don't need a statement from you. I could drive you home if you're feeling too anxious," Connor offered.

"I'll be fine. Just-... need a minute."

You hadn't realized until it left your lips that it might have sounded like you wanted to be alone. You didn't, and Connor didn't take it that way. He remained on the bench until another detective ushered him over.

"I'm afraid my paperwork for the day has tripled," Connor commented lowly. When you looked over to him, you could see his eyes flickering back and forth, distant. Checking his emails, most likely.

Connor stood up and began to walk away, but paused.

"E-earlier," he began, turning to face you. "I'm sorry for the rude way I-... Lieutenant Anderson called it 'manhandling'."

You couldn't resist letting an unlady-like laugh through your nose. Unconsciously, your dominant hand lifted to cover your face for a second, embarrassed at the sound you made.

"I forgive you," you replied, softly. "You were trying to protect me."

Connor smiled, something soft and innocent, that made you feel weak. "I hope I can see you again soon, with circumstances where neither of us are in danger."

"That would be a nice change of pace," you replied.

A rough looking detective with thick five o'clock shadow approached Connor hastily. He must have heard him coming, for he turned around before the detective could sneak up on him. You didn't miss the sour look the two men exchanged.

"Hurry up, robocop," he sneered, smacking the android on the back. "They want statements."

Connor shot you one last glance over his shoulder before returning to the hoard of officers. You watched him disappearance, confidence in his stride.

...

...

...

The precinct was on fire when they returned. Not literally, of course. But in the metaphorical sense, which humans seemed to enjoy using a lot.

Almost everyone had a report to write. If someone didn't, then they were complaining about how they were busy giving out speeding tickets and missed all the action. Even a big drug bust on the bad side of town was overshadowed by the bombing. People were running back and forth, asking the boss if they had an official report to hand over to the 'parasite' reporters yet.

Connor was perched at his desk, across from Hank. While Hank was typing away at his keyboard, Connor was using the application inside his mind to write his report.

In the past, he did so with his eyes open, sitting upright normally, staring at the back of Hank's monitor without concern. That stopped when Hank told him it was creeping him out. With some consideration, Connor could see how the staring could be unsettling.

So, while he wrote his report, he decided to close his eyes and balance his elbow on his desk, hand cupped against the side of his neck, holding his head up. It looked like he was taking a nap, honestly. But, everyone had gotten adjusted to it and knew what he was doing.

"Hey guys we got a burglary," one of the female officers called out as she passed their desks. Hank looked up from his monitor, eyebrows pinched in confusion as to why she felt like sharing that with homicide detectives.

She caught his expression and scoffed. "Pretty sure she was the nurse on site during the bombing," the cop added on. "Ya'll seemed rather close..."

Connor immediately propped up, so fast that it startled a flinch out of the cop. "Is she hurt?" he asked, some edge to his usually stoic tone. Hank was eyeing him, brows lifted, the edge of his lip threatening to curl into a smirk.

"No. Perps were long gone by the time she showed," the officer explained.

Connor settled back in his seat, looking relieved and... a little embarrassed?

Amused, Hank let out a gravely chuckle. "Go on, detective," he said, rolling the word 'detective' as if it was a fancy title or a praise. It was teasing, but not demeaning. Connor eyed him curiously.

"You have internet in your damn head - probably finished the report by now. Get outta here," Hank elaborated, some fondness to his tone.

The android's LED blinked yellow for barely a second before turning blue again, as he realized what Hank was implying. Of course, the older detective noticed the processing and he frowned at the sight.

As Connor stood up and pushed his chair back in, Hank added, "Connor, you know you're allowed to want things, right?"

Connor's lips parted even though he had no idea how to respond to that. Some options popped up in his mind, but none felt quite right. Or, was he embarrassed that his admiration was that transparent?

"-or someone?" Hank added on, his tone turning suggestive.

Connor looked away and straightened his tie.

"Goodnight detective," he said as he stepped past Hank's desk.

Hank waved him off with a grunt, "friggin' kids..."

...

...

...

Of fucking course.

You knew you had been robbed the second you pulled into the driveway. They had tried to pull the back door off its hinges. When that was seemingly too difficult, they gave up and just broke a window instead. Of course, not the little kitchen window in the back. No no that would be too convenient. The large living room window was their choice of entrance.

You had never smoked a cigarette once in your life but it sounded pretty fucking good right now.

You had already given your statement to the police, informed your insurance policy, and was scrubbing your hands in the kitchen sink when you heard a car pull up. It was pretty hard to miss with the gaping hole in the front.

You walked out of the kitchen, drying your hands with a towel, wondering if they had come back. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Not much was left to be taken.

Your guest had exited their car and walked around to the front to look at the window. His long legs were illuminated by the porch light. When he leaned down to examine the window seal, you smiled at the familiar face.

"How do you like my home renovations?"

Either the joke went over his head, or he was too focused to listen to you properly. The LED on his temple turned yellow and he settled a glare on something.

Connor kneeled down further, balancing himself rather well in what was normally an uncomfortable crouching position. He fished some tweezers and a small plastic bag out of his jacket.

His detective jacket - as in, he had just left work. You felt a tinge of guilt when you realized.

"Connor, it's fine. Some cops already took a look around. Besides, I'm pretty sure this is way beneath you."

The android's eyes flicked up at you for a second. "What do you mean?"

"This isn't a homicide, detective," you replied softly.

You watched Connor use the tweezers to carefully pull something tiny off the edge of your window seal. He held it up for a moment to get a better look. You watch, mesmerized as the lens in his eyes shifted, focusing in on whatever he was grasping. His irises shifted like camera lenses for a few seconds before returning to normal.

"The cops missed this," Connor said brightly. "Blood. One of the perpetrators must have cut themselves on the way in."

He deposited the sample, what you figured was a tiny piece of glass, into the baggy.

"Nobody takes evidence on home robberies," you commented dryly. "It's okay, really. You don't have to waste your time..."

Connor stood up straight, the plastic bag held carefully in his grasp. "I'm not," he replied sweetly.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered.

He retrieved paper evidence bags from his car to deposit the plastic bags and continued trailing your house, ignoring your weak protests. He took photos of foot prints in the backyard - with what camera, you had asked, well, his eyes of course - of fucking course.

He even found a hair sample.

"How do you know it's not mine?" you asked teasingly. From where you were standing, it looked like a normal piece of hair, no different from yours.

"Not your color hair." It looked just like yours, though. Android eyes, right.

"Unless you had company recently?" You didn't miss the way he asked it, like he was scared to ask, or didn't want the answer. Or, maybe, you had just imagined it.

"Heh. I wish," you replied, hoping the joke would take the edge of. Connor stared at you just a little longer than necessary, LED flashing red for a split second before going back to yellow.

He seemed satisfied with the investigation not long after that.

You were leaning against the beam of your front porch while Connor labeled and dated the evidence bags and deposited them into a filing case in his trunk. When he was done, he closed the trunk and turned back to you.

You looked completely normal right then, glowing in your porch light, tired eyes and messy hair. But, you were leaning against one of the support beams, watching him with an expression he recognized as gratitude.

Connor adjusted his tie, pushing it back up into the apex of his collar.

"I don't intend to let them get away with this," he said, serious, almost even threatening.

"Thanks, Connor, but don't stress yourself out about it," you replied, removing yourself from the beam.

"All processes are running at standard levels," Connor replied simply.

He looked prepared to correct himself just after it slipped out, but you were smiling, the kind of smile that suggested you didn't mind.

"I better get to bed. I took tomorrow off to... deal with this." You motioned at the broken window with your hand.

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly, looking between you and the gaping window.

"It's not safe for you to stay here tonight." He stepped a little closer, his voice soft but authorative. "The crime rate in this neighborhood is higher than the national average. You risk another break in, and I fear it could be much worse if you were home."

He sounded sincerely worried, though you told yourself he was just being polite. He was right, of course, and it was a scary thought, but you didn't have a choice. Android repair engineers didn't make as much money as human nurses.

"I mean - you're right, but, I can't afford a hotel, Connor," you replied.

You could see his adam's apple bob with an unnecessary swallow. He was full of all these curious quirks. Was he programmed with these habits? Or had he developed them after spending time with humans?

"Then... stay with at my apartment?" he suggested, almost shyly. "Until everything is repaired."

Oh... You hadn't expected that.

"I can't impose on you like that," you uttered. "You've done so much for me already."

"It's not imposing at all," Connor replied, eagerness starting to pick up in his tone. "I don't think of you as a stranger. I see you as a friend. I want to help you."

You smiled. "Connor-"

"Please," he added on hastily. "I would feel better knowing you're safe. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll buy you a hotel room instead."

"My financial problems aren't yours," you replied, crossing your arms not unlike a defiant child.

Connor was smiling nervously, and you couldn't help but return that same smile.

"Then, you stay at my place and I'll stay at a hotel."

You shook your head. "That's not a solution!" you scolded, catching yourself chuckling. "-kicking you out of your own home."

"You're not when I'm offering. If you're worried, I won't stay. There's always work to be done at the precinct and I don't require as much charging time as hum-"

"I'm not worried, Connor," you interrupted him, sounding sad at the suggestion. He had a sort of determined, eager look in his eyes and an innocent smile. He probably could have gone on and on, arguing with you about this for hours until you reached a conclusion that no one was happy with.

Before he could go on, and on, and on, and on... you surrendered. "Okay - okay - you win. Just let me... grab a few things?"

He smiled toothily and let out a wispy laugh, so softly and beautifully that it actually hurt a little. In the glow of your porch light, you could count the freckles on his face. A couple on his forehead... At least four on his right cheek. At least three on his left cheek. One on the bridge of his nose. One near his lip. Two on his chin.

Thirteen... and then you lost count... You'd have to try again later.

"Friggin' cops and their interrogation tactics," you grumbled, delivering a weak, affectionate punch to his shoulder before turning away and retreating into your house.

Connor felt a strange sort of high - giddy, was the word. He leaned against the passenger side door of his car. As he waited, he remembered that he didn't regulate the air temperature in his apartment to save money on his electric bill, seeing as he didn't mind the cold.

That meant...

...the apartment was going to be freezing.

"...shit."

[kapellegardendoneright-blog]

Water and Wood

That dumb-ass brother of Marly’s? He’s the one that let the house go into foreclosure when he and his wife decided to part ways. Another thing about that dumb-ass brother? 

He found a few people to help him build this house but not all of them decided to complete a quality job. The people who built the basement and wired the house for electricity completed quality work. The people who put on the siding to the house – not so much. It’s their work that led to our “fly issue”.

After the real, red oak, hardwood floors, the next thing we noticed on our first walk- through of the house was the water damage to nearly every window. Soon after moving in, we determined why. On the outside of the house, there was no caulk used to seal the gap between the siding and the window opening of any of the windows. What dumbass forgets to do this?  

The next thing we noticed was that the siding was nailed instead of screwed. Guess how we knew to look more closely at that? Many of the 4x8 panels were bowing in between each nail head making them look like waves and where it didn’t wave, it popped the nail out so it was just wide open to the elements. Who was the dumbass who decided to use nails on wood siding?

When we hired Bobby’s nephew to come out and give us an estimate on fixing the exterior, he told us the house was clad in T-1-11 panels. Actually, that’s not quite true. He took a good hard look at the worst side of the house, the eastern side that includes our bedroom window on the second story, the dining room window below it, and the stove pipe channeled along the outside of the house but clad with siding to look like a chimney, and said, “Oh. You got that T -1-11 shit on your house. Oh well. I can work with it. I’ll go ahead and tell you, about the only things good about that siding there is that you can find it at Lowes and it’s cheap.”

We have stupid siding, but we have Alec to help us make a plan - a plan we can afford. That there is what is called a silver lining! For year one, it is decided that we will focus on the east side of the house and waterproof all the windows from the outside. The guys take some measurements before Alec takes off with the promise of returning within the next few weeks with materials and tools.

As promised, he returns and gets to work. I get home from work and see Bobby and Alec deep in discussion over shredded pieces of 4x8 panel siding. I have a suspicion I’m about to learn yet one more dumbass new thing about how this house was constructed. “They didn’t put down under-layment, so all this plywood needs replaced, too. This is where all your all’s fly issues are coming from.” Flies, ladybugs, wasps, stink bugs, ants- we have quite a few “issues” Alec. “Since they didn’t do it here, I’m betting they didn’t put any down anywhere on this house. Huh.”

He punctuated the “huh” with a bemused smile as in, “Huh, I wonder how they got away with that in their build plan,” or, “Huh, who in the hell would go to the trouble of building a house if he knew it was just going to rot in less than five years.”

SHUT UP! Unamused, I spin away from him. I kiss Bobby hello, drop my things at the door, head to the kitchen, pour myself two fingers of bourbon and take a sip gazing out the kitchen window. Money pit or easy fix? What a stupid, dumb-ass brother!

[classic-rock-roller]

1. Kevin invites you to his class to see his presentation for Music History. You go, excited to see what he’s come up with. When he gets up to present, he uses 3 of his allotted 10 minutes, doesn’t have a slide show, and is overall uninformed. You love him to death, but his presentation is, frankly, awful. When he finishes, he looks to you earnestly. “What did you think? Was it great?” You want to be honest, but you don’t want to break his heart. What do you tell him?

I’d smile at him and go, “It was good, but not the best I know you could do. I know and have seen you do better.” 

2. You’re sitting calmly on the quad at school when someone comes up behind you and covers your eyes and wraps an arm around your torso. They lean around to whisper something in your ear and say, If you–Oh fuck you’re not who I thought you were.” They let you go and you see it’s Vince. How do you respond?

“Were you expecting someone else, Vincess?” 

3. You are being especially sassy toward Kevin lately. He is just trying to be nice, but no, just sass. After a couple of days of this, he says, “Even with all this sass, I still love you, but you are getting on my nerves.” How do you respond?

“Good, I’m glad,” and I’d kiss him and go back to being my sweet self. “Wait...were you trying to get on my nerves?” “Yes, because you said I couldn’t do anything to annoy you.” I’d turn around then and next thing I know he’s wrapping his arms around me. “You drive me crazy, you know?” I’d smile and go, “Oh, I know.”   

4. You noticed that Randy and Kevin both wear rings with letters on them. Randy’s ring has 2 R’s for his initials, so you assume that’s what Kevin’s has too, since he’s never let you see his. One day when he’s in the shower, you pick up his ring and see that the letters aren’t his initials, but yours. What do you do?

I’d smile and place the ring back down. When he’d come out of the shower, I’d go, “I really like your ring it's nice.” He’d freeze, realizing he forgot to hide it and say, “You don’t think it’s too sappy.” I’d give him a kiss. “Nah, I think it’s sweet.”  

5. You went to the bar with Kevin, Randy, Rudy, and Drew. You’re all fairly buzzed, and the house band starts up an old song. They all know it, and you don’t, unfortunately, but they all start singing. It’s got repetitive lyrics, so you catch on quickly and join in. You’re all singing together and it’s great; when it’s over, Kevin, who has been slowly progressing from buzzed to drunk, stands up and declares his love for you in front of all the bar’s patrons. Some guys whistle, and Randy and Co. whoop. How do you respond?

“I know, Kev, you do this every time I’m with you and you get drunk. You’ve had me for two years I don’t think you need to do it anymore.” He jumps down from the chair he’s standing on and goes, “Oh, I’ll do it every time.” Before pulling me in for a kiss that makes the bar whoop and whistle and Randy, Rudy, and Drew gag.  

6. You’re sitting inside one day, and Kevin is noodling with something outside trying to fix it. After about half an hour, he comes inside and very determinedly begins rooting through a kitchen drawer. “Whatcha doin’, Kev?” you ask him. Without looking up, he says, “I need a hairdryer, a fork, and a tube of tan caulk.” What is he doing and how do you respond?

“What are you doing?” I’d stop. “Don’t tell me you didn’t call the exterminator to get the hornets out of the roof.” He’d turn to me and go, “I’m not paying eleven dollars an hour for him to do something that I can do on my own.” I’d cross my arms, “Call the exterminator.” But--” “Call the exterminator. I’m am not having you fall off the ladder from getting stung by hornets.” He’d sigh defeated, “...ok.”  

7. You and Kevin just went through a very nasty and painful breakup. Out of sheer anger, you write a little poem and post it on Tumblr. It reads, “You stabbed me a hundred times and then acted like you were the one bleeding. And the worst part was that everyone was helping you while I was bleeding to death.” You think nothing of it, until 2 weeks later. A new Quiet Riot album has come out, and your poem is the main chunk of lyrics of the most popular single on the album. In an interview, Kevin is taking all the credit for writing the lyrics. You’re outraged. How do you respond?

I’d march over to his house and the minute he’d open the door I’d go, “You fucker!” This would then escalate into us having a screaming match on his front porch. Somehow we end up making out, he stops and goes, “So does this mean we’re back together?” He gives me a hopeful smile. “Yes, but you’re still a fucker.” “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” 

8. Kevin suffered a pretty severe head injury when he fell off the roof at his parents’ house trying to fix something. You’ve been with him in the hospital for 3 days when the doctor pulls you aside. He tells you that if Kevin wakes up, he will have severe amnesia. You scoff at him, thinking that Kevin could never forget you. You’re with him for another 3 days before he wakes up. When he does, he looks at you as if you’re a stranger, and you know what the doctor said was true. He has no idea who you are. What do you do?

I’d hold back tears and go, “Hey, Kev, we’ll have you out of here in a few days I promise ok?” I’d sit with him for a little bit longer and explain who I am. I can tell he really wants to remember me and it’ll take a bit. Right before I take him home on the third day he tells me he remembers walking somewhere with me by a lake. This makes me hopeful that he’ll remember because it was one of our fondest memories together.  

9. You are frantically cramming for your finals. Your phone rings, and it’s your sister calling. You ignore her because you’re super busy. She keeps calling, and you keep ignoring her. The next morning, you take your test, and when you get back to your room, Kevin’s sitting on your bed, and he’s on the phone. You wait for him to hang up, and when he does, he looks at you sadly. “That was your sister. Your mom had a heart attack yesterday afternoon. She…didn’t make it.” How do you respond?

I’d sway and literally break down right on the floor by the door. Just...huge wracking sobs. Kevin would come over and pull me into his lap and we’d just sit there on the floor for a little bit not saying anything and just rocking ever so slightly.  

10. At the park, you and Kevin see a bunch of seagulls. You say “I wonder how many there are.” Kevin just says, “One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding and four for a birth. Five for silver, six for gold, and seven for a secret never to be told.” You look at him confusedly. He explains, “That’s how you’re supposed to count crows, my grandma told me that.” How do you respond?

“Wow cool, my grandmother used to just scream, ‘Get those fuckers off my lawn! I hate birds!’ Before chasing after them with a broom.” 

11. You’re downtown with Kevin, and you’re walking on the sidewalk. Ever the gentleman, Kevin is walking on the street side. Suddenly he pushes you into a store, clearly not paying attention to what it is. You look around him to see a car driving along the sidewalk to pass a stopped bus, missing Kevin by inches. He steps into the store. “What were you thinking!?” you ask. Kevin is suddenly pensive. “If me dying meant you living, how could that be anything but good?” You are shocked at this train of thought. How do you respond?

“Well, if you died then life wouldn’t be worth living...Don’t do anything stupid like that again!” 

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

1) Randy has brought you over for the first time to meet Rudy, Kevin, and Drew. As you’re leaving so that Randy can drive you back home, you hear Kevin scream from the porch, “Remeber to use protection in the next ten minutes!” You think the whole neighborhood heard. How do you and Randy react?

2) You work in a florists shop and Kevin comes in and slams twenty bucks down on the table. “I need to get flowers for my girlfriend. How do I passive aggressively say I want to fuck you in flower?” How do you respond? 

3) You get home from work to see Randy lying face down on the carpet. “Hey, hon, what’s wrong?” He turns and looks at you, “I just had a bad day.” How do you respond? 

4) You and Randy are laying in a hammock. You’ve fallen asleep on his chest and he’s gently rocking the hammock. After a bit, he rocks it too hard and the two of you tumble out, effectively waking you up. What do you say and how does he respond?

5) You’re walking through Walmart singing one of the newer Quiet Riot songs that came on the radio. From a couple aisles down you hear someone else singing along with you. When you turn down the aisle, you run into them. It’s Randy from Quiet Riot. What do you do? 

6) You and Randy are watched one of your favorite tv shows. You get up to go to the bathroom and pause the show. “Don’t play it I’ll be right back.” You’re not even gone five minutes and when you get back, Randy is watching it again. How do you respond? 

7) You’re making breakfast for you and Stephen. When he comes out you can tell he hasn’t slept well, “Morning sunshine. Ready for breakfast.” He’s about to say something but bursts into tears. Why is he crying and what do you do? 

8) You’re in the shower when all of a sudden the curtain is pulled back, You scream, but it’s only Randy, he goes, “Are we--stop screaming, it’s just me--are we out of Cheetos?” How do you respond? 

9) Randy and you are sitting on the couch and he’s telling you about the gig last night that you were unable to go to. You’re listening but also thinking in your head, “This is the person I’m in love with.” Randy literally stops and says, “You realize that’s the first time you’ve said that right?” How do you respond? 

10) You and Randy are in bed and you have your back to him. After a bit, you feel this light touch on your back. It’s Randy spelling out ‘I love you.’ He thinks you’re asleep. How do you respond? 

11) You were eating dinner with Randy and accidentally bit your lip. “Shit I bit my lip.” Randy puts down his fork and gives you a smile, “Do you want me to kiss it to make it feel better?” How do you respond?  

@osbournebemydaddy , your move, love