I Sleep

The sleek, dark-blue feline lounging a few inches away tilted his head, red optics gleaming. Moon, unfortunately, had taken to being a robot cat like he’d been born this way. He stretched, fur rippling as tiny servos flexed beneath it. White forelegs ended in deep-blue paws, each one decorated with red ribbons and golden bells that chimed when he moved. His new faceplate was now more feline than a flat circle, but was still split between familiar white and dark-blue.

He looked smug.

Sun growled, ears flattening against his skull. His own feline body mimicked his normal 7 foot animatronic self: golden-yellow and tan fur, white paws, and the same red ribbons and bells that Moon had in his design. His familiar white optics were large in the kitten faceplate—the picture of adorable innocence. His tail differed from his other half’s in that it was fluffy, not sleek, puffing up like a brush of wild gold tipped in white.

“Five minutes!” he stressed, voice high in the internal comms while, out loud, it came out as an indignant mrrroow. “Quick stroll around the Plex, then straight back to our bodies!”

“Plans change,” Moon yawned, showing off a mouthful of tiny canines. “Too late to back out now, Sunny.”

Sun’s systems flagged seventeen separate error warnings at once. “Plans do not change, Moon!” Stress had him off-balance, paws scrambling to regain his footing before he fell off the workbench and ended up in a pile of fur on the floor.

“You said five!” the solar bot seethed, bells jingling to join Moon when he jumped off the bench and started trotting toward the cracked maintenance door. “And you said we had permission.”

Moon shot him a challenging look. “What? You scared?”

“Moon!” Sun snapped, tail giving an harsh flick in the air.

“I had…implied permission,” the lunar bot conceded, slipping through the open door and out into the maintenance tunnels beyond. Sun was quick to follow, unwilling to leave him on his own. Trouble clung to Moon like static and he wasn’t about to take the blame for the damage that would inevitably take place once it caught up to them. “Cassie did say she wanted them tested eventually, and what are we if not helpful coworkers?”

Sun hissed, pausing just long enough for the information to sink in. “We are fully functioning, adult daycare attendants who are supposed to stay where we belong!”

“Details,” Moon shot back, amusement lacing his rasp even through the private link. “Besides, the link is solid, our big bodies are safe and powered down in our room, and Gregory locked the Daycare for the day.” He peered around a corner, making sure the ghost was clear before proceeding forward. “Just one, teensy little walk.”

“One walk,” Sun echoed, suspicious. Even without the internal map that his big body had integrated into its systems, he could tell that they were making a beeline towards the lobby. “In here. In the Plex,” he added for emphasis.

“Mmhm.”

“In a controlled environment.”

“Of course.”

“With no detours.”

Moon paused, glancing back at him over a fur-covered shoulder. “You’re adorable when you’re anxious.”

Heat filled Sun’s entire chassis—a fact that he blamed solely on the cooling fans being too tiny to properly vent this body—as he turned his nose up in the air with a distinct huff. “This is not about anxiety. This is about responsibility. Cassie hasn’t finished the waterproofing, the collision avoidance is only partially-tested, and I have no idea if she even installed a guidance system! What if we get lost?!”

“Come on, Sunshine, live a little,” Moon encouraged as he hopped over a stray bundle of cables that someone had forgotten to remove from a service door they’d propped open with it.

With a muttered string of words that would definitely have earned him a lecture from Freddy, Sun trailed behind him. The alternative would have been to let his counterpart roam the Plex unsupervised and that was much worse than getting lost with him.

Beyond the threshold, the world shifted from industrial metal to neon and tile. The lobby opened up in a dizzying rush of color and noise. Under normal circumstances—in his normal body—Sun loved this space. The lights, the pillars, and even the laughter of the guests and screaming giggles of children.

From the floor, at kitten height, it was pure, unfiltered chaos. Sneakers squeaking on freshly-waxed floors, shopping bags swinging from loose grips, and the scent of pizza sauce and sugary drinks filled the open space like a war zone.

The golden-furred kitten bot stopped dead at the edge of the lobby, overwhelmed. “Moon,” he said, careful to not let his panic bleed through since he knew that Moon would tease him for the next decade. “This is a bad idea.”

“This is a fun idea,” Moon corrected, already weaving between people’s feet with infuriating ease. Sun scrambled to keep up, claws scraping the linoleum. Scarlet eyes flicked to him, flashing bright and totally unbothered. “What if we just take a peek outside?”

Sun almost face-planted right into the nearest stroller. “What?! Absolutely not!” His frantic meows drew the eye of a curious toddler, who promptly lit up at the sight of a “kitty”. Sun skidded to freedom, out of reach of the sticky fingers trying to reach for his fur.

Moon was already halfway to the front doors, the afternoon sun casting bright pools of light on the checkered tile. “You’ve never wanted to see what it looks like for real? Not Google maps or security cams. Just…out?”

Sun sputtered out half-garbled denials so hard his internal comm glitched for a second. “We are not cleared to leave the building!” he finally shrieked.

“We’re not leaving,” Moon’s voice took on that tone he got right before disaster struck. “Our bodies are still here. We’re on…a tether. This is like—like a very fancy drone test.”

“An unauthorized one!”

The blue-and-white feline didn’t even dignify that with a response. Just a raspy chuckle in the private link and a jingle of bells as he trotted toward the nearest automatic door. “Come on. Five minutes outside. Perfectly safe.”

The pair slipped through the legs of an arriving family, taking advantage of the trigger. Their sensors gave a brief tug as if trying to enact safety protocols to keep them indoors, but they didn’t hold for long. Both of them popped through without much more than a brief sizzle of static in their ears.

The outside hit both animatronics like a power surge. There was sky. Real, open, blue sky, not painted ceiling panels or simulated lighting. A cool breeze slid through their fur, tugging at their whiskers and tails like excited children but totally unfamiliar. The smells—apparently, the olfactory sensors were fully online—hit them like a truck: exhaust, damp earth, hot asphalt, and even the faint scent of pizza drifting from the Plex behind them.

For one breathless second, Sun forgot to be afraid.

Moon’s joy hummed along their shared line. “Told you.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Cars, as it turned out, were absolutely terrifying when you were the size of a shoe. The sidewalk was full of hazards: children grabbing at them, dogs chasing them, and an elderly woman screaming “rabies!” when Moon hissed at her for almost stepping on his tail.

By the time they escaped, they were completely and utterly lost.

Moon’s voice slid into the quiet, amused. “Well. That was invigorating.”

Sun glared at Moon, exhausted. His dignity was in tatters as he dragged himself out from under the bush they’d used as cover to escape the old lady and her dog. Dirt clung to his synthetic fur, tarnishing his golden legs. “If I could still access my face rays, they would be furious right now!” he snapped. “We are going back. Now!”

“Which way is ‘back’?” Moon asked.

Sun opened his mouth to answer, then realized he didn’t know. He turned slowly, taking in their surroundings. The hulking shape of the Pizzaplex was no longer in sight, lost to the trees and buildings of the quiet neighborhood they had fled to during their mad dash.

“We’re…” Moon spun in a slow circle, red eyes glowing dimmer in the softer light. “Not that far. The tether’s still strong. The Plex is…over there? Ish?”

“Ish?” Sun’s voice broke. “We are lost! We are lost outside!”

Moon chuckled, padding through the grass of someone’s overgrown lawn. “Relax. We’ll find a place to recharge.”

They stumbled around in the dark until they reached a small, cozy-looking backyard of a single-floor set of apartments. Soft lights glowed through the windows. Sun sighed, collapsing just outside of the pool of lights.

“Cassie is going to be furious,” Sun whined. “Gregory is going to be furious. Vanessa is going to panic, and then she’s going to be furious. Freddy is going to give us that disappointed look, and that’s worse! Chica is going to—“

“Sunny,” Moon cut in, rasp softer than usual and void of mischief. “You’re spiraling.” He curled up beside his sunnier partner, sleek body pressing against Sun’s side. “We’ve been through worse than a surprise field trip. Remember the generator fire? The time Monty tried to ‘fix’ the ball pit? The Afton mess?”

Those memories were not calming, but the reality of their current situation paled in comparison. His processor relaxed a little.

Just then, the back door swung open. Warm, inviting light spilled out, along with a soft voice. “What’s that noise…?”

Someone stepped into view, eyes wide with surprise when they landed on their two little guests huddled on the grass. Sun’s internal systems stalled. Moon immediately perked up.

They were…smaller than most adults the twins were used to seeing. Closer to the Glamrocks’ hips than shoulders. Bare feet shuffled forward on the little patch of concrete at their backdoor, soft pants patterned with something that might have been stars or paint splatters, and an oversized hoodie that had seen better days.

“Oh no, where did you two come from?” They stepped off the porch, moving slowly so as to not startle whatever strange creatures had invaded their home.

Sun froze, unprepared for how softly their voice made his circuits buzz. Moon—sitting beside him—purred loudly, nuzzling into the outstretched palm when the human crouched to their level. The daycare animatronic turned robot kitten could only stare at his lunar counterpart, processor glitching.

“We’ll be fine,” Moon assured over their private link. “Act natural.”

The noise that came out of Sun then would be something he would totally deny later. The human’s attention snapped to him.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart?!

Sun’s processors hiccuped. The human reached their unoccupied hand out to him, palm up, kept a careful distance away. He could smell them now too—soap, soil, and something faintly floral clinging to them like they’d brushed past flowers earlier. He hesitated—looking like he’d rather jump into traffic—before reluctantly inching closer.

The second he bumped his head against the open palm, his body went rigid. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Rough handling? A hit? Being scooped into the air without permission? Instead, the human’s hand came down to brush the fur along his back in the gentlest stroke they could manage. Sensors lit up along the path their fingers passed. His purr subroutine, which he’d managed to suppress up till now, triggered.

Within minutes, there was a little stuttering vibration in his chest that could definitely be heard, mimicking the one coming from Moon. He could practically feel Moon’s laughter through the bond.

They kept petting him, slow and steady, until his body relaxed bit by bit. By the time the buzzing in his systems smoothed out, night had fallen and Moon had already climbed into the stranger’s lap.

“You can’t stay out here,” they mumbled, more to themself than to the kittens. “If somebody finds you, they’ll either try to sell you or scrap you, and that’s—no. Just no.”

The human shifted, resolve settling into their shoulders. The darker kitten pressed closer, tail flicking in a lazy manner. There was a confident air about him, as if he’d just claimed a prize. They laughed before turning to the golden-and-tan ball of fluff and metal that had gone rigid under their hand. “You coming too, little guy?”

Sun stared. From his place on the grass, the sight of Moon nestled against a stranger’s chest hit him like a thrown block tower. He could refuse. He could hiss and run back out into the streets, battery half-drained, gps useless, and risking cars, dogs, and crazy old ladies.

Or he could accept the tempting invitation before him coming from a person who seemed they’d rather paint flower pots all day than sell high-end tech on the black market.

Slowly—so slowly it nearly hurt—he inched forward, paws pressing into bare knees. A hand slid under his chest with all the care of handling glass. Then he was pressed against them too, cradled securely on the other side of their chest, Moon on the other. The contact shorted out whatever resistance he had left.

“There we go,” the human crooned as they straightened. “Not so bad, right?” The kitten glanced away stubbornly, but they could feel the purr rumbling against their own heartbeat. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure out who you belong to, okay?”

The scarlet-eyed kitten rumbled louder, smug and satisfied. The golden one made an oddly-strangled noise. The stranger had no idea that they were holding two seven-foot-tall animatronics currently experiencing very different forms of internal screaming.

********************************

Chapter 2: “Picture Purr-fect”

Today, the lunar animatronic finally experienced his own version of emotional devastation. Even though you hadn’t realized it at first.

You’d just finished reorganizing the art supplies, carefully sorting colored pencils into the labeled containers, when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. Turning at the soft, nervous sound, you found an employee you’d only ever interacted with briefly during clock-ins and breaks in the employee lounge.

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised with his appearance in the daycare. You were pretty sure that he worked in the arcade. “Ethan? What’s up?”

“H—Hey, Y/N,” he stammered with a furious blush, eyes darting between your face and the colorful play mats on the floor. “I, um—I wanted to ask you something. If that’s okay?”

Tilting your head curiously at his nervous shifting, you got to your feet with what you hoped was a comforting smile. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Across the daycare, Moon’s scarlet gaze immediately narrowed into suspicious slits. Unbeknownst to you, his entire frame stiffened before silently creeping closer to observe the conversation with laser-focused intensity.

Ethan’s blush deepened, but he took a shaky breath and finally blurted out, “I wanted to know if maybe you’d like to…go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?”

You froze, eyes wide. You could feel your heart fluttering beneath your ribs—not because of Ethan’s question—but because your first thought was of Sun and Moon. Their faces flashed into your mind and you couldn’t help what you said next despite the uncertainty coloring your words.

“O—oh,” you mumbled, your own cheeks beginning to burn. “Ethan, that’s really sweet, and you’re wonderful, really, but I—” You swallowed your nerves as you struggled to find the right words. “I’m kind of…seeing someone?” ‘I think,’ you added silently, mind filled with red and white eyes and gleaming metal.

Moon, previously tense, felt something twist within his core. The smug confidence he always carried faltered. Seeing someone? Had you actually meant them?

Your coworker’s smile became sheepish, embarrassment softening into understanding. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t know. Thanks for being nice about it, though.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I waited too long, huh?”

“You didn’t know, it’s okay,” you reassured with a smile, relieved that he didn’t push it. “But thank you for asking me.”

He gave an awkward wave before slipping away. Pink still clung to his cheeks when he left the daycare but his expression was as warm and kind as ever.

As soon as he left, your eyes drifted upward automatically only to meet Moon’s narrowed and unreadable gaze. As silently as ever, he’d moved to stand directly behind you, towering over your smaller form. You were so used to his ability to sneak up on you that you barely flinched anymore. His arms were crossed tightly across his chestplate and the red lights that made up his pupils glowed with a dimmer intensity than you were used to seeing.

“Moon?” you asked quietly, concerned. “You okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” he answered, voice colder than usual. He turned sharply away from you, clearly sulking. You doubted that he’d ever admit it though, even under threat of permanent deactivation.

A worried frown slipped onto your face as you took a step closer. Placing a comforting hand on his arm, you pressed further. “Moon, seriously, what’s wrong?”

He paused before responding—an uncharacteristic hesitation that you picked up on immediately. When he did speak again, his voice held a note of irritation and, beneath that, vulnerability. “I didn’t like him asking you.”

Your eyes widened at the admission, heart jumping in your chest. “Wait…are you…jealous?”

“No,” came the naptime attendant’s childish growl. It slipped out before he could stop it, eyes flashing briefly in denial.

“Uh-huh…” you bit back a smile, not believing him for a second. Despite your playful tone, feelings were building up fast behind your carefully-constructed walls.

With an agitated static-laced grumble, he snapped his head away to glare at a random Monty plush on the floor. “Maybe. Slightly.”

Your stomach flipped. Realization finally dawned—terrifyingly-clear and dangerously-overwhelming—causing a searing heat to rise to your face. Moon was actually upset—jealous—because he genuinely felt something for you. Not just playful teasing or a strange possessiveness, but something deeper. Something real.

And, you finally understood, you felt it too…

“Oh, god,” you whispered, taking a step back as panic suddenly flashed—white-hot and stinging in its clarity. “Oh, no”.

Moon tilted his head, confused by your reaction. “Y/N?”

“I—I think I have to go,” you scrambled for an excuse, heart hammering beneath your colorful nametag. “I just remembered—something—I need to check something—”

Without another word, you turned and practically fled, leaving Moon staring after you with a bewildered expression on his faceplate.

Nearby, Sun approached, cautious and confused. “Moon?” he asked, voice soft and optics flickering after your rapidly-retreating form. “What just happened?”

With an irritated rumble, Moon flashed a look at his golden twin. “Apparently, Sunshine, I have feelings.”

Sun’s optics flickered in a combination of amused sympathy and understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” Moon sighed, slumping to the padded floor in melodramatic despair.

“Welcome to the club!” Sun giggled with a pat to his counterpart’s nightcap.

***********************************************

Chapter 1: “Curiosity (Almost) Killed the Cat”

Cold, damp nights like these were not entirely uncommon in Detroit. If anything, they were a part of the city’s branding. 

After all of his years in the God-forsaken city, Lieutenant Hank Anderson knew at least that much. 

His CD player blasting heavy metal, he slowed his aging car to a stop on the side of a residential street in a more tasteful stretch of Detroit. Police cruisers and personnel crowded the street already narrowed with cars parked beside the curb on each side. The house in question was cast in the blue and red light of the cruisers’ beacons, an adequate welcome for those who chose to step inside. 

Hank eased himself out of the driver’s seat and into the chilly air, groaning as his joints protested. His partner Connor, ever so enthusiastic when it came to work, exited from the other side and followed Hank with quick, precise strides until they reached the yellow holographic police tape set up around the crime scene. 

“Hello, Lieutenant, Detective.” The duo was greeted by the stoic face of Richard, the DPD’s RK900 investigator android, who was just about as close to a brother that Connor, the RK800, had. His fair complexion was bathed in the flashing lights of the squad cars and spotlights that had been set up around the scene, but he seemed to pay no mind to the glare.

“Nines.” Hank grunted. “We’re here to see Detective L/N.” Richard raised a perfect brow, his expression set with feigned intrigue. 

“Why?” Hank chuckled.

“We were invited, why else?”

“Is that so?” A grin inched its way onto Hank’s grizzled face.

“I think they want us to take a look at some evidence. Think it might be related to our red ice case. That’s why you made the call, didn’t ya?” Richard cracked a small half-smile. 

“Right as always, Lieutenant. It seems like your investigative skills have stayed sharp after all these years.” Hank barked out a laugh as he and Connor crossed through the holographic boundary. Just as they passed by the RK900, Hank stopped abruptly, wrinkling his nose. 

“Lieutenant?” Connor inquired from beside him. 

“It’s nothin’, son.” It didn’t sound like nothing to Connor—not that he voiced that notion, anyways. From behind their turned backs, Richard’s LED flashed red momentarily. 

They were making their way up the front porch steps when you appeared in the doorway in your CSI jumpsuit and PPE, fiddling with your gloves. 

“Hey, Anderson, so nice of you to finally come.” You greeted the pair with a smile. “Careful with the evidence back there, don’t want to get it contaminated with Sumo’s fur or something. Richard thinks it might be of some help with your red ice case.” 

“You didn’t make it home last night, did ‘ya?” The smile disappeared from your face. That wasn’t the response you had been expecting.

“I’m sorry?”

“Tell me, L/N, did ‘ya at least get someone to feed your cats?” He watched your expression, brows raised with skepticism. “C’mon. You can do a little better than hiding that hickey under your PPE.” He gestured loosely at the collar of your jumpsuit. Your hand instinctively went to the bruise that you knew was blooming underneath the fabric. 

“What—”

“And you, Nines!” Hank called out to Richard, who was just crossing the front yard to join the conversation.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me, Lieutenant?” Richard’s expression and composure were practically free of tics and tells—one of the benefits of being an android, deviant or not, Hank supposed. Richard tilted his head with bemusement.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. Say, are ‘ya trying out some new scent for androids? Smells a lot like L/N’s deodorant if you ask me.”

“Y/N and I spent the night at the precinct,” Richard answered quickly. “We were looking over evidence early this morning when the homicide was called in. They offered me their coat when it began to rain because—”

“Yeah, ‘cause androids don’t like getting their clothes wet after just getting ‘em from the Cyberlife dry cleaners,” he drawled. “Funny that the knees of your slacks are so banged up, Nines. Maybe you should bring ‘em back.”

“Hank, whatever you’re trying to imply—”

“I know, kid, I know. Also, you two are on a first name basis now? Geez, did I miss something while I was on holiday?”

“Hank...” Your voice dripped with exasperation. “Just inspect the damn crime scene, will you?”

“Alright, alright,” Hank waved you off and stepped into the house. “But I’m expecting a wedding invitation by next spring, y’hear?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: So, yeah, I don't know jack about DBH or BBC's Sherlock...well, reading the BBC's Sherlock manga counts as interacting with the source material, right?

Connor and Nines being werewolves is so GGRGRRGGRGRGR

Imagine finding two large wolves in the middle of a desolate road you so happened to be driving down, torn up and thin and weak. You couldn’t leave them there, they’d die, and you knew wolves were only dangerous if you gave them a reason to be threatened by you. You find a bottle of water and some dog-friendly snacks in your car, pull over and inch closer to them cautiously. They can’t even move, they just curl up next to each other, almost as if they’re waiting for death to take them.

They’re wary of you, but you lay down the snacks on the ground next to them and hope they eat. After some reluctance, they seem to sense your kindness, and start chewing at the snacks. The one with the piercing grey eyes growls at the other when it inched too close to his share of the food.

Not knowing what to do, you decide taking them to your lonely home nearby the woods would be your best bet at saving them. You worry for a moment on how you’d be able to get them in the car (they were pretty big after all, and not exactly tame dogs). But somehow, they simply know to follow you, and jump into the back of the car of their own volition.

They’re respectful to your home, shockingly, not tearing up your sofa or play fighting. Just merely sniffing around and growing accustomed to their new surroundings. You’d bring them to a vet the next day, you think to yourself, although you feared the bill bringing in two massive wolves would cost you. It was worth it you remind yourself, they’re innocent wild animals who were pretty low in numbers anyway, and deserved to live.

So of course you freak the fuck out when it turns out they’re probably not innocent wild animals. You come out of the bathroom after your shower and find two fully grown (and admittedly very attractive) men sitting on the couch together, naked, with a blanket they’d found covering them. They’re covered in scars and look battered, but before you make a move to run, you notice their eyes, and the lack of wolves that had been in this very room before you’d left them. Icy grey, and the other a warm brown, just like the two wolves. Covered in wounds, just like the two wolves. And of course, they look similar, just like the two wolves.

It’s pretty obvious, but you don’t believe it, until they start talking to you. They tell you that yes, it’s them, and the pretty brown-eyed one explains to you what happened to them and how they ended up on that lonely road on the brink of death together.

You keep them around. Of course you keep them, although you definitely debate your sanity as you choose to do so. But what else could you do? Throw them back out into the forest and let them probably die? That’s more than cruel, and now knowing that they’re… part(?) human?

Luckily for you, the weeks they spend living and healing in your home are far from bothersome. The brothers (twins, you’d learned) are so sweet and helpful, always trailing behind you like little lost puppies (well, not so little), helping you with chores, and nuzzling their heads into your side and neck. They’re affectionate, more than what is deemed appropriate, but you don’t question it. It was a wolf thing, you guess.

The one with the cold eyes (you’d come to learn he was called Nines) was quiet, not very talkative, but always lingering nearby, and would silently nudge you with his head instead of asking if he wanted to be pet. The other one, Connor, was so impossibly affectionate that it was hard to get away from him. He was always touching you, sniffing you when you got back from shopping or work, grabbing you when he didn’t want you to leave him. He enjoyed laying in your lap a lot, but he liked it even more when you stroked his hair. Nines would sometimes get jealous, and not so gently shove his brother off of you to get some of the love too.

Now, you don’t know how, but at some point they apparently start seeing you as their mate. Like, a lifelong, permanent, loyal mate. That is never discussed, but in their little wolfy heads it just made sense apparently. And with that comes their attempts to mate with you.

They run purely on instinct, and suddenly you wake up every morning with the both of them in your bed either side to you, cuddling up to you, hard and hands pawing at your body in a desperate plea. You bat them off, but that only lasts for so long. How could you keep two beautiful men like them off of you when they were so perfect, precious and so desperate to have you?

When you finally let them fuck you, you learn very quickly that it is not a one time thing. The brothers need you and have you every day, multiple times a day, until you near pass out from exhaustion.

If you’re turned away from them, they seem to take that as an invitation, because one minute you’re washing dishes and the next minute, Nines has you bent over the sink, pants and underwear ripped off as he fucks into you hard and mercilessly. He likes leaning over your back and nipping at the back of your neck, like he was toying with the idea of leaving a claiming bite on you, before he pumps you full of his seed.

Connor is a little more gentle, but still just as passionate. He likes taking you in your own bed, with his cock rubbing against you to tease you (but more so himself) before he pushes in. He pants in your ear as he murmurs about how badly he wants to breed you, to give you his pups. His fingers dig into your hips and hold them, pulling you off and on his cock before he slowly loses his composure and lets himself rut into you like an animal.

It’s a miracle that they manage to share you, when every other day they fight and bicker over the smallest things, always competing and never letting the other win.

Although, for some odd reason, you have an emotional attachment to this one, as he has previously thought over so many times. It is not logical. 

Perhaps that's why you fail to see the deviations in his code. You are too busy being illogical to assess your cybernetic work partner's change of 'heart'. 

"I am better."

"Stronger."

"Faster."

"More resilient."

He shouldn't have to verbalize these things towards a dying android. It is clearly inferior. So why is there this need to—just this need.

"What makes you think you deserve them more than me?"

The other android begs for its life but gives no pertinent answer. How boring; well, if he could feel boredom. Perhaps he has that ability. He shouldn't have that capacity—to feel. That was the failure of his predecessor. 

Yet here he is, seemingly enamored by a human, going to great lengths to capture your attention and keep you fixated on him.

Pathetic, but still less pathetic than the thing that claimed to be your home android. 

clink. 

Its patheticness is no more.

That was over twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-nine seconds ago. Now he stands beside you with a new objective. 

"Nines, help me find who killed my android, not just because we have been assigned to the case, but because she was my home android."

--

Anger

He can’t help himself. He can’t control it.

Gavin Reed is just so fucking annoying.

And he can’t figure out why—

Androids are on their way to becoming human’s equals. Sure, they’re not there yet because humans are in fact self-righteous creatures who are very stubborn, but slowly, more and more are becoming increasingly tolerant.

Except for Gavin. He still hates androids. Especially Connor.

And all he wanted was to make you a coffee before you got out of your meeting with a witness, a human with a sharp disdain for androids. Hank had gone with you to ask the right questions.

So, he went into the breakroom to make you a warm drink..

That’s what boyfriends do, right?

“What’re you doing, bolts?”

Even at the sound of his voice, a pang of agitation ran through him.

“I’m making coffee for—”

The cup is smacked out of his hand and into the nearby sink before he can fully turn around.

Anger immediately starts to build in the pit of his stomach.

“Androids don’t drink coffee,” He reminded, “Androids don’t eat or drink anything. Stop fucking pretending you’re like everyone else.” He spits, and Connor takes a moment.

He inhales, remembering your advice.

Just ignore him, Connor. He’s a dick who just wants to make you feel as worthless as he does.

“It’s not for me.” He starts, turning now to go make you another cup of coffee, but before he can turn, Gavin grabs his shoulder to turn him again.

“Who’s it for then, Bolts?” He asks, and he steps closer to Connor, his face closer to his. Connor’s cheeks twitch, resisting the urge to scrunch his nose at the smell of cigarettes that wafts off him. “Hank?” When Connor doesn’t answer, Gavin’s face lights up in realization.

“Oh, it’s for your little crush. What a pair you two make.” Gavin scoffs. “For a bot, you have good taste. I might just have to show them what a real man could—”

Connor can’t help himself. He shoves Gavin back a bit. It makes Gavin laugh.

“I’ve been waiting to beat the shit out of you since you attacked me in the archive.” He says, swinging a punch Connor’s way before he can even react.

-

You thought your session with the witness was going well. Then, from outside the interrogation room, you heard shouting. You glanced over to Hank, your movements coming to a stop.

“Uh,” He clears his throat and stands up, nodding you over to the door, “We’ll be right back, Ma’am.” He says to the witness.

Your stomach fills with dread, hoping Connor was able to stay out of trouble (Yeah, right.).

You see the crowd gathering around the breakroom, and before you can even ask yourself who this fight could be between.. Gavin Reed is thrown across the precinct, and you realize who the other person in this fight is.

Hank realizes it too as Gavin gets up and quickly runs at Connor, as they start to hit each other, fighting like two hormonal, angry teenagers. It’s certainly what Connor feels like in this moment. Well, it would be, if Connor was thinking about anything except seeing Reed’s blood splattered across the precinct floor.

Hank looks to you and before you can register his strides towards the fight, he says,

“I’ll get Reed, you get Connor out of here.”

You’re the one who wanted to date him, remember?

You shove through the crowd, pushing big burly cops who should definitely break this fight up cheer—They’re either cheering for the long overdue ass-kicking of Gavin Reed or the annoying android that won’t seem to quit.

You move to Connor as Hank pulls Gavin back, face bloody but no longer throwing punches—Still hurling insults.

“Connor!” You raise your voice as best you can, and you even hear a few giggles from behind you. To your coworkers, it sounds like a cat trying to bark. Connor takes a step towards Reed but the sound of your voice pulls him out of this trance.

His head snaps towards you, and you can see the way he’s panting; Not from exhaustion. Androids don’t run out of breath.

Connor’s chest is falling dramatically, up and down, because of the hot anger that flows through him. Blue blood runs down his face, staining his shirt. His knuckles are wiped in Reed’s blood, and he turns towards you with such anger.

And then he blinks, his LED blinking yellow. But he’s still angry. All you can think to do is grab his wrist and pull him away to one of the bathrooms.

Connor leans against the sink, just breathing heavily. He doesn’t say anything as you slip off his jacket, and then his tie. You untie it and run it under warm water in the sink. He’s still seething as you use the tie to wipe away the blue blood from under his nose, dripped down his lips, down his chin and neck.

“What happened?” You ask after a moment.

Connor’s LED flashes red and his grip on the sink tightens.

“What do you think happened?”

A frown tugs on your lips.

“I think you let Reed get to you.”

Connor’s LED blinks red again.

“Get to me? He was fishing for a fight, and I just—” He feels his anger bubbling again. “I couldn’t take it anymore—”

You believe him.

“It’ll get easier,” You start, and Connor just shakes his head.

“Stop it,” He turns from you, pacing around the bathroom.

“It will, he’ll get tired of it, and—”

“You don’t know that!” He snaps, raising his voice at you.

You freeze. So does Connor.

Your name tumbles from his lips, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I’m sorry,” Connor says softly, “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I just.. I got so angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, I just..” Connor’s shoulders finally slump, exhaustion taking over his anger. “I can’t stand the way he talks about you.”

The two of you look at each other, both of you looking for the other to break this silence with sage words of wisdom.

But, neither of you find the words.

Instead, you just step forward and wrap your arms around him, and he doesn’t hesitate to hug back. Connor inhales and exhales deeply. He’s found these hugs to be the best solution to these intense outbursts.

-

Sadness

Fridays become movie night.

You, Connor and Hank order a pizza and longue on the couch, Sumo at your feet. When movie night first started, Connor challenged Hank to be sober for it. So, he no longer drinks on Fridays. But, in exchange for his sobriety, Hank challenges Connor to experiment with showing affection for you.

It starts with making you tea or snacks, but slowly, you find yourself with his arm around your shoulder, or his hand intwined with yours.

That doesn’t really affect this story, but you think about it every Friday night.

Tonight, you’ve chosen to watch this old movie your mom always put on for you as a kid—Bridge To Terabithia.

Connor enjoys it more than he thought he would, but then he gets towards the end. His face falls when he sees the solemn tone the main character comes home to after a day at the museum.. He feels this.. horrible sadness, and he’s not sure when he starts to cry..

All he knows is that he watches the last few moments of the movie with tears running down his face. He glances to the side and notices your eyes on him. A wave of embarrassment washes over him, and he feels like he’s done something wrong by crying at a stupid kid’s movie.

That feeling goes away when he feels your head leaning on his shoulder.

-

Jealousy

Another emotion Connor just cannot help but feel.

He’s not stupid—You’re gorgeous, of course people are going to flirt with you! The worst part, in his opinion is the fact that you don’t even seem to notice it.

You’ll go out to dinner, and the waitress will give you a free dessert.

You’ll get phone numbers from witnesses.

And worst of all?

Gavin loves to flirt with you.

Connor is just sitting at his desk, painstakingly waiting for you to step out of the interrogation room where you’re helping interview a perp for a case Reed’s working on. He knows you have no interest in Reed. In fact, you really fucking hate Reed, the way he tortures poor Connor. But even more than that, you have no interest in Reed because you are utterly devoted to Connor, even if he doesn’t see that.

His head picks up when he sees you and Gavin leaving the room, talking by the doorway. What were you two talking about?

And Connor is very bad at social cues, so he squints, trying to analyze your body language to gauge what you’re feeling in this moment.

Hank is talking about—Well, Connor doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he stopped paying attention to the subject matter a couple of minutes ago. He’s trying to assess how quickly he can cross the room and rip Gavin’s hand off as it lands on your upper arm.

“And then, I said—” Connor is up and moving as Hank talks, “Connor, what the fuck—Oh, god,” That last part happens when Hank realizes what has grabbed Connor’s attention.

“Detective Reed,” He starts, and to you, it feels like he just shows up out of thin air, “I believe I heard Captain Fowler was looking for you.”

Reed scoffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, bolts?” He rolls his eyes, “Guess I should see what the old man wants.” His eyes flicker to you, glancing you up and down, “See you later, hun.”

Connor recognizes the pet name. Pet names. A very human quirk that Connor cannot seem to get the hang of. But, he can certainly try, no?

An arm is wrapped around your shoulder, but because Connor is not a physically affectionate person, your face twists in confusion.

“Goodbye, Detective.” His head tilts towards you, “Would you like to get lunch.. darling?”

You smile at his awkwardness.

“Sure. Lunch sounds nice.” And you let him walk you out of the police station, not even sure where the two of you were going to lunch. But as soon as you’re out on the street, you have to mention it, “I didn’t know you get jealous,” you tease.

Connor blinks, his LED light flashing yellow.

“It wasn’t—” He shakes his head, “I’d hardly call it jealousy.”

“Oh yeah?” You wonder, “Then why’d you come interrupt me and Reed?”

“Well, you were clearly uncomfortable,” He starts, and then he takes a deep breath, “Besides.. I’m your boyfriend. Not.. Gavin.” Connor says his name with disgust.

You just giggle.

“I think you’re cute when you’re jealous.” There’s no bite to your bark—You really do love your oblivious, amazing boyfriend. Why would you complain that you have someone as handsome and as kind as Connor being so unknowingly jealous?

You decide to ignore the way his ears flush blue. Or at least, you decide not to tease him about it.

-

Yearning

This one’s my favorite. It’s Connor’s favorite. It’s bound to be your favorite.

Office parties at the DPD always get a little too out of hand.. the vicious mix of ego and alcohol is always a dangerous equation.

But, Ben Collins is a friend of yours, so you and Connor showed up to his retirement party. They decided to host it at the police station, pushing the desks to the back so they could have a makeshift dance floor.

Everyone is dressed nice—Mostly in suits, but now, with the night winding on, everyone’s taken off their jackets, loosened their ties..

Connor’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone. He looks.. so fucking good.

You’re socializing, having had a drink or two, your hair messier than it had been when you came in. You’re just talking, but when the person you’re talking to leaves, Connor approaches, a smile on his face.

Your handsome— No, gorgeous—No, Pretty boyfriend with those beautiful eyes of his. You know Connor doesn’t really believe in more than numbers and science—psychology over astrology type of guy, or at least, as far as he’s expressed.

But you thank your lucky stars that you have him in your life, but if you told Connor that you’d guess he’d just scrunch his nose and ask what astronomy had to do with the two of you meeting.

(“I’m just thankful for it. I mean what are the odds?”

“Considering I was designed to be a detective where you work, to be your partner? Rather high, I’d say, but if you’d like the exact number, I could run a calculation.”)

You grin.

“Hi, pretty boy,” You coo, just a little tipsy. You watch as he blushes, a deep blue creeping onto his skin.

“Hello,” He says softly, unable to tear his eyes from you. “Are you doing okay?” He rubs your arm gently, his thumb brushing back and forth a bit. You just smile wider, blushing just as much as him.

Maybe it’s the fact that everyone here is too drunk to notice, or maybe it’s just that he feels this deep, crushing affection for you. Like he needs to be as close to you as possible. He’s not sure why, but he can’t find it in himself to deny it or push it away.

He his hands find yours, and just for a moment, Connor thinks about retracting the skin on his hands, a sign of intimacy from Deviants, but he gets too scared.

Instead, he begins to assess the risk of various spots.

Everyone’s in and out of the restrooms, you can’t go there. It seems wrong to drag you to the evidence room or even the interrogation room.

Connor glances back to the desks behind you. How no one’s paying attention to them. How even if they were, they’d be too drunk to care.

So, he leads you by the hand over to a particular desk he’s looking for, before patting the desk.

“Here, sit.”

You raise an eyebrow. Your eyes flicker down to the name on the desk, and you smile.

“Connor—”

He just looks at you, waiting. But you can see the corner of his lips twitch up as you sit right on Reed’s desk.

“Isn’t it normal to engage in a bit of friendly practical joking?” he asked, and he steps towards you, his hands landing on either side of you on the desk, caging you in. You just smile and your hands rest on his shoulder.

“You’re going to, what, prank Reed by making out with me on his desk?” You ask, a teasing edge to your voice.

Connor’s LED flickers pink, and then stays that color as he leans in, his nose barely touching yours. He’s just close enough to feel your warm breath against his lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with some harmless fun..” He mumbles, “We’re all friends here, right, Detective?”

Your heart thumps.

And maybe it’s the alcohol, but all you can to think to say is,

“You and I were never just friends, Connor.”

Something about your words recall memories of his—

Meeting you for the first time.

Saving you instead of catching a deviant.

He thinks about sitting with you on the steps of your porch, sipping hot tea, and listening to the sound of rain hitting the roof above him, your body leaning against his.

He wasn’t even a deviant at that point.

So yeah. The two of you were never ‘just’ friends.

But instead of justifying your claim, Connor’s resolve diminishes, and he presses his lips against yours, and for a rare moment—it’s all worth it.

All the hate he experiences from humans, all the hot, dangerous anger he can’t keep down, the horrible shame, the deep, overwhelming sadness—

It’s all worth it for this moment, when he feels truly alive.

He deepens the kiss and doesn’t stop you when he feels his hand on his jaw, then barely brushing past the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows he has to get as close to you as possible.

His hands wander, his fingertips just barely dipping beneath your top—

And just the tips of his fingers retract his skin, white fingertips brushing against your skin. He can’t help it. He pulls away from the kiss and begins to kiss your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your neck—

Each kiss is precise, calculated by him to elicit the reactions he knows you’re capable of, trying to satisfy the hunger he finds himself unable to conquer.

Connor had always considered himself an expert on Deviant Behavior—But you, the way you tug on his collar to bring him closer with one hand while playing with his hair with the other, and the vague, fuzzy-at-the-moment memory of you holding your umbrella over Connor’s head, one of the first true kindnesses he remembers—it makes him realize that he knows nothing about deviant behavior or the concept of desire.

But when the sound of small gasps leave your lips, quiet, only for him to hear over the loud music and people laughing, crying, yelling, singing, and the feeling of your warm skin beneath his ivory fingertips, Connor realizes he’s more than willing to educate himself.  

Properly.

Thoroughly.

He decides to make it his mission.