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trliteraltrash-fics · 6 years

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Coffee

Ao3 Link

Summary: Nick's been having trouble sleeping since the case with his now dead mother. Showing up late to work is one thing. Skipping the most important meal of the day is another.

Art source

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Nick mutters, pulling on his jacket on the way into the precinct. He had overslept by a whole hour and now he was late. He hadn’t even had time to make breakfast and now he was running to his desk.

Nines sat across from his desk, unwavered by the dishevelled appearance of the detective that still had traces of conditioner in from not washing it out properly that morning.

“I’m so, so sorry .” Nick told him, eyebrows furrowed as he threw himself down into the chair and slipped his fingers messily over the keyboard of his terminal. “I didn’t sleep very well and then I overslept, and with my Mum and that case it just… I’m really sorry Nines, i should’ve gotten up earlier. I know there’s no excuse.”

Nick’s panicked flurry of apologising seemed to fall on uncaringly deaf ears. Nines hadn’t even changed his facial expression.

It made Nick feel stupid.

Of course Nines wouldn’t care if he was late. He only ever really showed concern for their mission. Not like his brothers. But he didn’t want to be rude or let his partner think he didn’t care. So he turned back to his computer and settles into paperwork.

His eyes scanned the pages, fingers tapping against the keys as quietly but as quickly as he could manage. He didn’t want to be the source of irritation for anyone. In his peripheral vision, he sees Nines get up and walk away from the desk. Not that he has any room to be curious, the android could do what he wanted. His eyes glued themselves to the screen. He couldn’t just slow down because he was curious. He didn’t have the time to do that. Not when he came in late that morning.

A mug taps against his desk.

Nick’s attention rips itself from his computer terminal. His eyebrows furrowing as Nines sits back in his own chair. Nines brought him coffee. He doesn’t do that for anyone - aside from Hank that is, although Connor usually handles that.

He looks at his partner, confusion spreading over his face as he lifts up the cup, holding it in his hands. He sniffs it before even thinking about trying it. It didn’t smell weird. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Until he drank it.

It wasn’t bad coffee. It really wasn’t. What had Nick even more confused was the fact that it tasted right . He hadn’t told Nines how he takes his coffee, hadn’t even asked. But here they were.

“Your blood-sugar readings are inadequate, detective.” He says, cool steel gaze starting right through him. “If you are late again; make time to eat.”

“But what about-?”

“It will not affect the efficiency at which I work.” Nines says, watching Nick as he slowly takes a sip from his cup. His expression changing with the twitching in his eyebrows.

“I’ll… I won’t be late again.” He says. Making the false promise to himself, gaze turning back to his monitor.

#Detroit: Become Human #dbh #rk900 #Nines #dbh rk900 #OC #Nick #original male character

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trliteraltrash-fics · 6 years

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Night Terrors

Ao3 Link

Summary: Model RK900, Conan Anderson, has some trouble sleeping.

Inspired by @thebunnyartist ‘s Connor Brother’s AU!

(for a better reading experience - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKhgB28YExK_pMv5CSjWkv5XK89NAVJVe )

Androids couldn’t dream, not really. So when the model RK900 - no - when Conan , found out that he could dream, it terrified him. His brothers would go to bed for the night, seeming more, and more deviant as time went on. He had no doubt that without the LEDs stuck to their temples, they would look like an ordinary group of humans despite having the same face.

Conan would spend the evenings sitting on the couch, Sumo laying on his uniform legs as he pet the shaggy dogs fur. He was doing that now, programming having adapted to the routine of petting Sumo. Although, the pace at which he was doing so had slowed, blue ring turning yellow with the process of going to sleep.

Not that he could stop it, but Conan found himself somewhere entirely different. It wasn’t Amanda’s Garden, but rather a box shaped room. At least, that’s what he could see with his scanner on the fritz. It was stupid not to get that fixed, but he hadn’t wanted to bother Hank about it. The room was dark, that much he could tell.

Trying to stand left him bent, his head coming to touch the head about a foot before his full height. It left him uncomfortable, but not in pain, more because he couldn’t feel it than anything.

Looking around the room he wasn’t sure what to make of it, what was the test here? What was the purpose?

“Hello, Conan.” He heard a voice, it sounded like Colton, his oldest brother. But it was incredibly different. Turning to his left, he saw a figure, a dim amber light showing against the darkness.

“Colton? You shouldn’t be here.” He says. He knew it was a test, at least, that’s what he thought it was.

“You’re a not a deviant Conan. You’re much worse than that, y’know?” Conan couldn’t help but furrow his brow, trying to process what was being said.

“What do you mean? I know I’m not an adequate brother, but I hardly see how I’m worse than any other deviant.” He stepped as best he could on his long legs, towards his brother. He could feel the way his regulator - heart - pulsing the blue blood through his circuitry.

“You’re just not one of us , Conan.” He said, not stepping any closer, but pushing him, the force having him hit his head and landing painfully against the floor. It didn’t make any rational sense. Colton hadn’t physically touched him, and yet here he was, on the floor.

Looking at the dark ceiling, he saw his brothers crowd around him. All with disappointed expressions on their faces. He didn’t want to name the feeling that ran through him.

“Wh-What do you mean?” The only question he could ask, lacking his composure as the environment morphed and brightened quickly. Compared to the dark of the room, the brightness had him shutting his eyes so that his processors - brain - could catch up.

Looking around again, he saw himself in Hanks - their - living room. The place was clean, as clean as it could be living with Hank. A Detroit Police department hoodie was draped over the couch, rug uneven, coffee mugs littering the table and a few empty bottles of jack.

It left Conan concerned - was Hank relapsing? - He hadn’t picked up the bottles for at least a month now. He couldn’t just throw it away.

“Hank?” He called, looking around, but no one was there. Not in the living room, he looked around the kitchen, the bathroom, and even Hanks room. But he found nothing. When he heard the door open, he snapped his gaze around, jogging out to where he heard his brothers talking.

They had groceries with them. Too many for Hank alone, to eat before it would be spoiled. Briefly, he wondered if Hank had forgotten that Androids didn’t eat. If that was the case, his brothers would have surely reminded him before they purchased so much.

“Hey - uh, - Conan.” Hank said, gaining his attention over the other boys. “Pack this away, would ya?”

“Of course… But why did you purchase so much food, Hank?”

The question gained the attention of not only the lieutenant but,his brothers as well. There was a pause, one that stretched out before Colin laughed.

“Did you hear it, Dad?” He asked, Connor shaking his head.

“It’s strange for it to call you Hank too.”

“Doesn’t it usually call you ‘lieutenant’?” Colton asked, bright eyes shining with curiosity from the oldest boy.

Hank looked at Conan, his eyebrows furrowed. “Just pack the damn food away. Fucken androids, jesus.”

Conan couldn’t help the pain he felt. Real pain. He wasn’t supposed to be able to feel it, but he did, his body moving on its own. His own actions not his own as he did what he was told. Packing each item away with speed and efficiency.

He wasn’t one of them.

He was an it.

Just a fucking android.

He didn’t want to feel this. He turned, his gaze falling on Connor, who was smiling at him. Up close, that’s when he could see it. The freckles on his brothers face, the tuft of hair that always hung over his forehead no matter what he did with it. The brown of his eyes.

The missing LED.

He couldn’t help but stare at the older boy’s temple, the missing light such a stark difference to what he was used to.

“Thanks for putting those away.” Connor said, reaching for an apple and taking a bite. Connor’s gaze turned to Hank. “These are great apples, Dad!” he calls.

Androids didn’t eat .

He moved his gaze to his brothers, who he thought were his brothers. His gaze scanned them. He couldn’t find any bio components. Couldn’t see any LEDs. They were just like Hank.

They were human.

He came to that realisation like he was being put through a crop harvester. He hadn’t felt like this before. Everything hurt. He felt like his biocomponents would shut down. But there were no warnings. Nothing to suggest that he was physically injured.

He walked over to the boys, tension in his shoulders. His gaze scanning each one. His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re human?”

“Well, yeah. Thanks for pointing that out, captain obvious.” Colin said, slipping Hanks hoodie over his head and shoulders.

“That’s impossible… You’re supposed to be androids.” he says, trying to make sense of the situation, could they have been upgraded? LEDs taken out?

“We’re not like you, Conan. We’re not made of plastic.” Connor said, taking another crunching bite from his apple.

“Guys, give the bucket of bolts a break.” Colton said, looking amused. “It can’t help being defective. It’s probably a software issue.”

Defective?

“I’m not broken.” He says, shaking his head. “I’m not a deviant.”

“That much’s for sure.” Hank said, opening one of the bottles of Jack. “You’re just a machine, go - go stand in the corner or something. You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“No.” He shakes his head, the ache in his heart worse. Hank was the one who told him to stop referring to himself as just a machine. He wasn’t a machine. He just wasn’t .

“Excuse me?” Hank said. Voice measured and commanding, that of a true father.

“I - I said no, Hank.” Conan said, watching as Hank stood up, the expression on his face, and his brothers turning hostile as they circled him, the lights buzzing loudly, almost immediately starting to screech in his ears. He put his hands over them, hunching over as his hands pressed against his ears.

The light brightened before blowing the bulb, the room descending into darkness. The reflection of eyes holding nothing but hatred filled his vision as he was physically hit. Something blunt and hard had hit him over the back, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling, hitting his chin on the side of the coffee table as he went down. They didn’t sound like themselves, so aggressive and determined to hit him. He felt so heavy. So pushed aside and rejected.

He didn’t belong.

He could see the warning signs, his biocomponents were starting to fail. He couldn’t push himself away, no matter how hard he tried. He felt so heavy, he couldn’t tell which way was up or down any more. He could only feel the blunt hits of what was probably a bat. Non-critical damage. His scans told him. It wasn’t bad but it felt horrible.

He tried to yell, tried to make a sound of protest. But he physically couldn’t. There was something stopping him from opening his mouth. So much was going on, he couldn’t do it. It was irrational. His family wouldn’t hurt him. They cared about him. They loved him. But if they did-

Why would they do this?

Conan felt an intense heat, like he was physically overheating. He closed his eyes, everything in his programming begging him to defend himself. All he could do was scream.

Conan lifted his gaze, finding himself in the living room, Sumo whining near the couch. His brothers were around him, large eyes full of concern. LEDs shining in various stages of amber and bright scarlet. Hanks hands on the sides of his head.

“Conan? Conan are you alright?” Hank asks, gaze directly down at him.

“I’m okay… I’m - I’m okay…” He says, trying to process what just happened. Was it another dream? Did he fall asleep? Why was he lying down?

“He’s lying, Dad.” Colton says, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at Conans LED. “His stress level is at 85 percent.”

Connor puts his hand against Conan’s. The pairs gaze steadying each other has their skin retracts. Connor trying to soothe him, only to take a very human breath, tears welling up the older brothers eyes.

“Connor, what is it?” Colin turned to his gaze to the Connor, eyes flicking between him and their father-figure.

“Conan, how long has this been going on?” Hank asks before Connor can say anything, pulling Conan up by his shoulders so the boy is sitting upright. Hank sits behind him.

“It’s nothing… It’s not a problem. It’s just a bug. It can be fixed.” He says, voice unsure as ever from the usually most composed of the brothers.

“Bullshit. Conan, that’s complete bullshit.” Hank told him.

“Conan, we’re here for you.” Colin said, placing his hand over both his brothers, skin coming away to connect with the pair. His own LED flashing scarlet before settling to amber again.

“It’s nothing - I can handle it. It’s fine - it’s-” Colton gasps and stares at Conan - when had he connected his hand? “You’re a liar. We’d never do any of that to you!”

Conan’s older brothers stared at him, each of them with varying degrees of stress written over their teary-eyes faces.

“Conan, son. Listen to me.” Hank said, placing his hand on Conan’s shoulder. The young android turning his head to look at his owner - no - his father. “How long has this been going on?”

Conan couldn’t help but stare at him. How long? His eyebrows knitted together. The simulations started… 0.52 years… 189 days? When he first started inhabiting the same space as his brothers? Could he really tell them that?

He supposed he had no choice.

“Six months…?” He says, his gaze turning to the floor as Hank drew his brow together in a scrunched line. He didn’t seem very pleased with the information.

“Why didn’t you come to me about this sooner?”

“It’s nothing… Hank please I-”

“Conan, it’s not nothing.” Hank says, voice as tired as it is concerned. “Tell me what happened.”

Conan tightened his fingers over Connors, his brothers crowded in from of him in silence, waiting for him to answer Hank. He could feel the concern they felt for him through his fingertips. It made him tear up, feeling so loved and cared for.

“I - I just…” He tried to start, taking a breath that he knows only purpose to cool down his internal circuitry. “I’m so different from the rest of you - I don’t belong - I’m just a machine - designed to-”

He felt Hanks arms pull him back into his chest.

One hand was running through his hair, the other around his middle, just under his heart. He heard sniffles from his brothers, his eyes on them as Hank spoke to him, frown and no doubt furrow of his brows evident in his voice.

“Of course you belong here Conan. And you’re not just a goddamn machine. You’re my son.”

His son.

Conan couldn’t help the tears that spilled from his eyes. He knew he didn’t belong. At least, that what he told himself. The way that the others connected and interacted so easily. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t be ‘casual.’ But here they were, surrounding him, his brothers crying with him, Faces filled with pain as he stared at them.

“You’re different, son. But it’s not like I’m going to love you any less for it.” Hank said, gruff tone full of concerned reassurance which Conan wasn’t sure he deserved.

Not that he could entertain the thought for very long as his brothers descended upon him. More limbs warping around him and Hank than he knew what to do with as his tears overwhelmed him in a rush of feeling that left him unable to tell if they were physical, or emotional. He couldn't help the way he sobbed, fingers gripping into the fabric of the closest shirt. He felt the firm hold of Hank around him and the boys. The way they all held the youngest Anderson.

Conan couldn't help the fact that he had started crying, nor could he help the sick twist of his mind that told him Android's don't cry, nor do they feel. He knew that to be true, and yet, he didn't want to care anymore.

He wasn't just an Android anymore.

He had a family who were all around him. Someone - probably Colton - whispering that it would be okay. That they love him. He moves his arms, reaching up to hug the pair of his brothers in front of him, Colin and Connor. His head leaning against the shoulder of his second eldest brother.

Conan felt the uncomfortable heat of his internal circuitry and the level of his stress. 70 percent. He wasn’t physically connected to his brothers now, but he could feel the vitality with which they cared for him. It was all so overwhelming. He didn’t want to cry. Didn't want to worry them or cause them to think any less of him for having problems.

He didn’t want to believe that they thought he deserved all of this. And yet, somehow, they had decided for him. That he deserved this despite failing aspects of each mission he was given. He knew he was a failure, and yet they still loved him as if he wasn’t such a disappointment.

He took a breath, trying to cool himself down. He didn’t want to overheat or cause himself to go back into standby. It wouldn’t help anything.

“I love you.”

The words were whispered as he said them, and he wasn’t sure hank or even his brothers had heard him. But he knew he had said them, and with the way the arms tightened around him, he knew they had heard him.

“We love you too, son.” Hank said, fingers still running through Conan’s hair.

#Detroit: Become Human #RK900 #RK800 #Connor RK800 #Colin #Colin RK800-60 #RK800-60 #Conan RK900 #Conan #Connor Siblings AU #Brother AU #hank anderson #flu #angst #hurt and comfort #nightmares

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