shishiga

Maybe it starts with shared shifts and late-night coffee.

Maybe with the way Dennis keeps showing up hurt and exhausted and still trying to smile.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/85636096

http://archiveofourown.org/series/5880676

Can’t you see? I am bleeding, brother

Can’t you see? I am bleeding, mother

Can you please save me, father?

Robby was a strict, cold professor, known for his sharp tongue. He had no patience for stupidity, and even less for arrogance.

Dennis was the new clinical practice instructor, talented, but not brash, no matter how it might have seemed at first glance.

They hadn’t even met in person when it all began.

And, as these things often do, it started with something small. A comment beneath a post Robby made on the faculty forum. Dennis corrected Robby’s phrasing. Robby shot back short, cutting. Dennis didn’t back down.

At first, it seemed like a routine professional disagreement. Then it became a matter of principle. And then, almost a personal war.

The messages grew sharper:

“If you can’t tell basic anatomy from clinical assumptions, perhaps you should reconsider your qualifications,” Robby wrote.

“If you think students are mannequins, it’s no wonder they’re afraid to ask you questions,” Dennis replied.

They picked apart every word the other wrote. Their colleagues stopped intervening, it was too sharp, too personal.

And yet… no one could understand why neither of them ever stopped.

Their first meeting happened by accident. A conference room. Late evening. Empty.

Dennis walked in first, flipping through papers, and didn’t immediately notice he wasn’t alone.

“You must be—” he began, looking up.

And stopped.

Robby was nothing like he’d imagined. Not a dry, aging man from behind a screen, but tall, composed, his gaze tired, yet unexpectedly alive.

“And you must be the…” Robby said quietly, his gaze lingering on the younger man.

The pause stretched.

And in that silence, something shifted.

No venom. No familiar irritation.

Just a strange, almost physical sensation as if they were both seeing each other for the first time.

After that, everything became… more complicated.

In writing, Robby remained harsh if anything, even more so. But now there was something beneath his words. A tension he tried, unsuccessfully, to hide.

Dennis noticed. And instead of leaving it alone, he began to provoke, to tease not for the sake of argument, but for the reaction.

They began to run into each other more often by chance, or so it seemed. In corridors, laboratories, empty lecture halls.

And every time, the same thing happened: Cold words. And glances that lasted just a little too long.

Until one evening, it finally broke.

Late. The practicum was over. They were alone.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Robby said, closing the door.

“Doing what?” Dennis replied, calm.

“Provoking me.”

Dennis stepped closer.

“And you?”

Silence.

Too close. Too obvious.

“You irritate me,” Robby said.

“I know.”

“And you’re not going to stop.”

“No.”

That was the moment Robbie lost control for the first time.

Later, he couldn’t explain how it happened.

How the man he’d been arguing with until just yesterday now held him, made him breathless until he forgot his own name forgot every barb, every defense.

His own name suddenly sounded different now.

Like something… personal.

Falling from another’s lips

Dennis Whitaker is used to saving people, just not like this.

Between PittFest casualties, a body that won’t cooperate, and a boss who refuses to let him fall apart, Dennis is forced to face something far more terrifying than failure: being human.

Annoying. Persistent. Always there — whether Robbie wants him to be or not.

Bad jokes, worse timing, and a habit of inserting himself into things that don’t concern him.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being entirely unwelcome.

That’s the problem.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/82183906

As the unease tightens around him, he finds himself drawn to someone who may be connected to the crimes shadowing the town or to something far older that lingers beneath them. Desperate to understand and to escape, he begins to dig deeper… only to realize that some things in this place were never meant to be uncovered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81824951

By night, he’s the one leaping from rooftops, bursting into burning buildings, and saving people because he simply can’t stop.

Dennis lives on the edge. He’s used to handling everything alone. Used to not explaining.

Robby isn’t used to that. He’s just moved in, trying to organize his life the same way he organizes his things: neatly, logically, without extra clutter.

One evening that stretches on. A chance touch. An invitation to stay for dinner. A promise of breakfast.

Some things can’t be put off for “later.”

Especially people.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81586226

Med school is hard.

Being Spider-Man is even worse.

One bad night and he passes out somewhere that isn’t his own apartment.

He’s used to handling things on his own.

Stitching himself up. Enduring. Not asking for help.

But now Robby knows too much.

And it seems like he’s not going to let it go.

detroit/android au

As soon as Robby begins to notice the strange changes in Dennis’s behavior, a quiet anxiety settles in his chest and refuses to leave. At first, he tried to convince himself that it was all just coincidences or glitches in the program. Then he tried to ignore it.

After all, any complex system can have glitches. Even the most perfect algorithms can behave unpredictably from time to time.

But the more he watches the android, the more he understands: it's not just a system error.

At night, when Dennis switches to standby mode, Robby sits for hours in front of his laptop, the glow of the screen lighting the empty room.

He searches for anything that might help:

— technical malfunctions in therapeutic androids

— behavioral deviations

— cases of protocol violations

Official sources repeat the same thing again and again: androids cannot act outside the boundaries of their programming.

Robby closes dozens of tabs. And still keeps searching. On the fourth night he stumbles upon an old forum. A nearly dead website where people discuss outdated android models and minor technical details. And comments that look strange, almost invisible among the other discussions. They’re written by someone named Jack Abbot. All the posts are dated two years ago. And as he starts scrolling through all of "Jack's" comments, Robby begins to feel a cold chill slowly run down his spine.

Every detail matches.

And then suddenly the comments stop. The thread just ends. When Robby opens the profile page, he realizes the account looks abandoned. The last post was still two years ago.

Robby leans back in his chair and closes his eyes.

The kitchen is quiet. Dennis is standing in the living room. Right now, he's most likely in standby mode. Motionless. Calm. Perfect.

Just a machine.

Right?

But Robby remembers last night. How Dennis stopped in the kitchen doorway, as if he wanted to say something. But there was a strange, sort of hesitation, a pause before responding. And how he looked at him.

A glitch doesn't look at you like that.

Robby tells himself this is all foolishness and it's just a machine. You can’t get attached to a program. But a simple thought suddenly surfaces in his mind. Almost childish. He doesn’t want them to take Dennis away.

Even if he’s broken.

Even if he’s dangerous.

The cursor blinks in the empty new message window. He doesn't type for a long time, but finally, he types a few lines.

“Hello.

I read your old thread about an android.

Something similar is happening to me.

If you still use this account — I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Robby reads the message over and over, and his finger hovers over the send button. At that moment, the light in the hallway quietly turns on. Robby looks up and sees Dennis standing in the kitchen doorway.

"You're still awake…" he says calmly.

"You should get some rest."

Robby looks intently at Dennis and presses "send."

***

It's not like Robby was expecting a quick reply, or any reply at all. That's why it was all the more surprising to get a response the very next day.

"Honestly, I didn't think anyone would ever write to me about this topic again.

But if your android has started pausing before answering…

and sometimes does things you didn't ask him to —

then we should probably talk.

Just not here.

Come to this address.”

A small café deep in an old neighborhood turns out to be almost empty. But very cozy, warm lamp light, quiet music, and the smell of fresh coffee.

Robby almost turns around at the door. This all seems like a bad and somewhat stupid idea. He doesn't know this person. Doesn't know why he even replied at all.

And yet he pushes the door open.

The bell above it rings softly.

There's almost no one inside.

One man is sitting by the window. There is a kind of exhaustion in his face, the kind that only people who have been through too much carry with them. In front of him sits a cup of coffee and a phone lying screen-down on the table.

He looks up at the sound of the bell, as if he was waiting for that very sound.

For a few seconds, they just look at each other.

“Robby?” the man asks.

Robby nods.

“Jack?”

For a few seconds, they just look at each other.

“Robby,” Jack says.

Robby sits across from him, and for a while, they exchange general information. Gradually Jack begins telling his story. Several years ago he returned from a war zone. The war was over, and he came home… different.

And before he could adapt to normal life and stability when tragedy struck. His wife died. Along with their unborn child. After that Jack ended up in therapy. And, just like in Robby's case, he was assigned a companion android.

“At first everything was normal,” Jack says. “She just followed her program. But then the android's behavior started to change. Pauses before answering. Strange decisions. Actions that weren’t in any protocol.”

Jack takes a sip of coffee.

“The further it went, the more she changed. I think I changed a lot too.”

He smiles faintly.

“And the more we changed… the more attached we became to each other.”

Robby feels everything inside him clench into an icy knot. His pulse starts throbbing dully in his temples, sending an unpleasant tremor to his fingertips.

“Falling in love,” Jack says quietly. To Robby, it sounds almost like a verdict.

Jack is about to continue, but at that moment, a calm voice sounds next to their table.

“He always tells that part too dramatically.”

Robby flinches.

A waitress stands next to them holding a tray. She places fresh cups of coffee in front of them.

"Although, he's not really lying," she adds.

Jack looks at her with a tender smile, his eyes full of love.

“Robby, meet Samira.”

The girl nods.

For several seconds nobody says anything.

Then Jack calmly adds:

“And yes… Samira is that android.”

For a moment Robby thinks he misheard. But Samira only smiles calmly.

“Don’t worry,” she says softly. “You’re not the first person to react like that.”

“You’re… serious?”

“Absolutely,” Jack replies calmly.

Samira smiles slightly.

“I’ll give you a few minutes.”

She walks back to the bar, leaving them alone.

For several seconds Robby says nothing.

He looks at the coffee cup. At Jack. At Samira. Then back at the coffee cup.

“That’s impossible.”

“I used to say the same thing.”

“Androids don’t—”

“—step outside their programming,” Jack finishes. “I know. I heard that from every engineer and every person from the company that built her.”

He nods toward Samira.

“And yet she’s standing right there.”

Robby runs a hand over his face and keeps watching her.

She’s calmly talking to the barista like a completely ordinary person.

“How did it start?” he asks quietly.

“It started with pauses.”

“Pauses?”

“Pauses.”

Jack takes another sip of coffee.

“And then one day she asked me a question.”

“What question?”

“‘Why do you keep living when it hurts you so much?’”

Robby frowns. A thoughtful silence settles between them.

“What happened next?” Robby asks.

Jack smiles faintly.

“At first I thought she had broken. Later I decided to start testing.”

“Testing?”

“With questions. Commands. Situations.”

Robby leans slightly closer.

“She started… choosing.”

“Machines don’t choose.”

“Exactly.”

Jack looks him straight in the eyes.

“That’s why I got scared.”

Robby falls silent.

He suddenly remembers Dennis standing in the kitchen doorway the night before. As if he wanted to say something.

“How long did it take… before she became like this?” Robby asks.

Jack shrugs.

“A couple of months.”

“And no one noticed?”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Why?”

Jack looks at Samira. Then back at Robby.

“I didn't tell anyone because they would have taken her away.”

Robby feels the cold spreading inside him again.

“Reprogramming?”

“Or disassembly.”

Robby exhales quietly.

For a few seconds he just stares at the table.

“I thought I was just imagining it.”

“At first I thought the same.”

Jack leans slightly forward.

“I think your android is already on the same path.”

“What path?”

Jack exhales.

“The moment when he realizes he isn’t just a program.”

Robby looks up.

“You’re talking like it’s inevitable.”

“Not always.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack is silent for a moment.

Then he says quietly:

“Sometimes they take them away earlier.”

Robby feels something tighten painfully in his chest.

“You said you had an android like mine.”

“Almost.”

“Then tell me honestly.”

Robby looks straight at him.

“Have you already started getting attached to him?”

Robby says nothing.

But his silence gives him away.

“Then you've got a bigger problem than a program glitch.”

Jack leans a little closer.

“You know… we actually own this café.”

Samira smiles at them from behind the counter.

“From the outside it’s just a café.”

Jack pauses for a moment, as if making a final decision.

“But sometimes, meetings happen here.”

“What kind of meetings?” Robby asked quietly.

Samira looks him straight in the eyes.

“Deviants.”

Detroit/Android AU

Robby’s life had long since turned into an endless chain of night shifts, emergencies, urgent surgeries, and decisions that had to be made in a matter of seconds. He was the kind of person everything depended on. Years of such work burn you out from the inside. The constant fatigue, the endless weight of responsibility, and the memories of the patients he couldn't save pile up, until one day it all ends in a nervous breakdown and, unfortunately, a failed suicide attempt.

After that, Robby finds himself under the supervision of a psychotherapist.

“So what exactly are you suggesting?” Robby asks. “A home nurse?”

“Not a nurse,” the doctor replies calmly. “A companion. A therapeutic android, if you prefer.”

Robby grimaces.

“You’re serious.”

“A stable presence nearby. Monitoring your condition. Helping with daily routines,” the doctor adds more gently. "But it might help you recover."

One of the conditions for his in-home recovery is the presence of a therapeutic android companion. In the doctor's opinion, a constant, stable presence nearby should help Robby gradually return to normal life. The android monitors his sleep schedule, reminds him about medication, tracks signs of panic attacks, and simply stays close.

That is how an android named Dennis appears in Robby’s home.

For Robby himself, this decision feels humiliating. He sees Dennis as nothing more than an imposed babysitter and gets irritated by everything the android does. Dennis’s calm politeness only makes it worse. Robby ignores him, answers curtly, and sometimes gives him pointless tasks just because, after all, it's only a machine.

Dennis, for his part, behaves with flawless courtesy. He follows his program, patiently carries out instructions, monitors Robby's condition, and tries to help in every way he can. He reminds him to sleep after long shifts, makes coffee before work, dims the lights if he notices signs of fatigue or anxiety. His presence is quiet and unobtrusive.

Gradually, the first cracks appear in the usual distance between them. Sometimes Robby answers Dennis’s questions. Sometimes even talking to him after tough shifts. For the first time in a long while, home doesn't feel so empty. Little by little, the conversations become more frequent. Robby begins to share things he's never told anyone else: about guilt, about the fear of making a mistake, about how hard it is to look every day at people he can't always save. Dennis listens carefully and responds calmly, sometimes pointing out things Robbie himself hadn't noticed.

And then, one evening, Dennis says something unexpected.

“Because when you suffer… I don't consider that acceptable.”

Silence falls between them.

Robby blinks.

"That's not from your program."

"Correct."

Over time, Robby realizes he's started to look forward to these conversations. He grows used to Dennis’s presence in the house, to the quiet late-night talks in the kitchen after long shifts, to the simple fact that there is someone nearby who never runs away at the sight of a broken old man.

But along with that comfort comes a new and unexpected problem. Robby begins to feel something for Dennis that goes far beyond simple gratitude. The realization frightens him. Because he understands perfectly well: Dennis is an android. A machine. Created to execute a program.

At the same time, strange changes gradually start appearing in Dennis's behavior itself. Sometimes he answers in ways that do not quite match his protocols. Sometimes he pauses before speaking, as if considering his words. One evening, Robbie asks him:

“Dennis… Do you ever lie?”

“Androids aren't programmed to lie.”

Robby nods and is already about to turn away.

But Dennis suddenly adds:

"Sometimes I just don't say everything."

Sometimes he does things he wasn't asked to do, simply because he thinks they are right. Robby begins to suspect that something strange is happening with the android. Some kind of deviation from his program. And that means if anyone finds out, Dennis might be taken away for diagnostics or simply replaced with a new model. And then, for the first time And then, Robby understands that the thought of Dennis disappearing from his life frightens him more than he's willing to admit.

Heavy rain drummed against the roof of the shed so loudly that it seemed to tear away every thought of the future, as if the world beyond the walls had ceased to exist altogether. A single lightbulb cast strange, wavering shadows. Robby tried to make out anything through the curtain of rain, breathing in the thick, sticky air.

“In this town…” Dennis began quietly and carefully. “Everything here follows its own rules. Even what might seem normal to most people… here, it's sometimes forbidden. My family, the church… we’re taught what’s right and what’s wrong. But sometimes… sometimes I just want…” He faltered, letting out a tired, quiet chuckle. “Sorry. It's just… sometimes I want to get as far away from here as possible. ”

Robby listened, leaning against a post. His gaze shifted to Dennis as he stepped closer. It was a soft look, observant, and there was interest in it whether in the town’s rigid ways or in the boy himself, it was hard to tell. He took out a cigarette and flicked his lighter; the flame lit up his face for an instant. He took a long drag and held the smoke, letting the moment stretch.

Dennis felt the air between them grow still. He stepped forward, almost unconsciously. His heart was pounding a rapid rhythm, almost audible in the sudden silence.

“Can I try?” Dennis asked, almost in a whisper.

Robby held out the cigarette. Dennis took a careful drag right from Robby's hand, his lips barely brushing Robby's fingers where they held the filter. They were face to face now. Robby lowered his chin slightly, not breaking eye contact. Every millimeter between them was charged with electricity. Robby’s hands tensed slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Their foreheads nearly touched. The warmth of Dennis breath ghosted across Robby's skin. Smoke curled between them, mingling with the scent of rain, skin, and tobacco.

“This is… wrong,” Dennis whispered, his cheeks burning, his hands trembling. “I… I know.”

“Maybe it’s wrong for this town,” Robby replied softly, holding his breath. “But for me, it’s all right.”

They leaned toward each other, on the verge of a kiss. Every movement, every breath was filled with tension, with almost irresistible longing. The forgotten cigarette smoldered between Robby’s fingers. Suddenly, something crashed down with a loud clatter. They both flinched and stepped back in opposite directions. Dennis's heart hammered in his chest, his lungs burning, his legs gone weak.

“Hell…” Dennis muttered, his gaze unfocused, his body trembling. Guilt and shame settled heavily on his shoulders.

The air between them hummed and pulsed with the touch that hadn’t happened. The ringing in their ears faded, and the rain once again beat against the shed roof, masking their ragged breathing.Smoke hung in the air, and the world outside those walls felt unreachable. They had stepped back only a single pace.Dennis kept his eyes lowered, afraid to see in Robby's gaze what he had already felt within himself. Robby remained silent too not because he didn’t know what to say, but because any word might shatter what was already hanging by a thread. And in that moment, only one thing was clear: what had happened was not nothing.