#reed80

Part 3 of the 'fandoms i know nothing about but wrote for a friend'. 1, 2

“Detective?”

That voice. He’d know it anywhere, of course, soft and slow and infuriating. Why was he here? Why did he have to be bothering Gavin now, of all possible times?

He looks up. His neck protests at the sudden movement—it’s settled well enough into the hunched, cramped position. 

Bet the android doesn’t have to deal with this. 

Unnatural freaks. 

“Detective,” it says again, and he realizes that he still hasn’t responded. Gods only know why it’s bothering him—where’s Hank? Shouldn’t he be keeping this thing on a tight leash?

He almost snorts. Old man’s always been far too soft. It’ll no doubt bite him in the back someday. 

Or shoot him, as things seem to go more often in this line of work. 

Not his concern at the moment. 

“Android,” he finally says back. It’s always aggravated him how the android is taller than him. It feels like some sort of silent inferiority; another example of how they’re trying to make the robots faster, bigger, better. He used to think that there was no chance of that happening. 

At the progress they’re going, perhaps the real future is creeping up on him alarmingly fast. 

“Do you require assistance?” 

And the thing just stands there, straight-backed and suited. Acting like it’s a real human- like it’s clawed its way into this station like he has. How much has he given for his career? Any semblance of having a social life, for one. He’s bit back all the words that bubble up when the idiots above him make their horrible decisions. All those sacrifices, and yet the robot just waltzes in like it owns the place.

Like it’s better than him. 

He lurches to his feet. More bones, more joints, protesting at the sudden movement. Whatever. Shorter though he may be, he doesn’t want to sit there looking up at the android, seeing his broad frame looming up above him. 

At this height, he’s an image of brown eyes, dark hair. Shaved clean, smiling politely. His face isn’t any better than his chest but at least Gavin’s not looking up anymore. 

“Shouldn’t you be on duty, android?” The words come out slanted with annoyance, which is truly the least of his emotions at the moment. “Not wandering the place like a mutt.”

“Hank let me out,” he says. “You looked like you needed help.” 

Gavin opens his mouth, prepared to spit some sort of rebuke—what is this thing implying? That he’s some sort of helpless thing? That any problems he has can be solved by him?

He closes it again. No use, really, spending his hard-earned free time on arguing with this thing. “Go… ah, I dunno. Get me a coffee.”

At least this will get rid of him. 

….Except it doesn’t. The thing, the android, simply stands there. Looking over Gavin with its gaze. He’d dearly love to say that his eyes are dead and blank, glazed dark like fish-eyes, but no, they’ve somehow managed to program some sort of life and expression behind them. Like there’s more than a sea of blue goop and biomechs behind that synthetic skin. 

It weirds him out. 

“Well?”

“Are you alright?” The android tilts his head. “Your posture-”

“Is that what I told you to do, huh?” 

It’s an almost disproportionate anger that he feels. First it asks him for help, and then it tries to… what? Psychoanalyze him? 

“I am not obligated to follow your orders.” The android nods once. Throat bobbing up and down. It’s a small movement; but for whatever reason, it captivates him. Maybe because of how realistic it is—make them blink, make them twitch, hell, give them the ability to disobey orders.

But this? There’s no reason for it to exist besides the fact that they want to make them realistic. A punch in the gut; that’s what it is, another reminder that maybe one day, he’ll be walking down some city street and be unable to tell what’s human and what’s not. 

It makes him want to lash out. To hit something, break something, slam a fist on a wall—or into a convenient subject standing right before him. His fingers twitch. Clenching. 

The android stares. He—he?—steps away. 

“...nevertheless, I will do you a favor.”

With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Gavin with an anger that he can’t quite deal with. Really, though, as he looks at the android’s retreating back, he can’t help but think that he wouldn’t have. Something about staring into those eyes, dark and liquid-brown. About the twitch of his adam’s apple. 

He can’t be letting him become… anything further than a bot. No matter how human he seems; no matter whatever shaved-face they’ve plastered into a facade. 

He’s coming back. A small plastic cup, almost dwarfed by his hand. There’s a jump in his eyebrows as he walks closer. Like he hasn’t been expecting Gavin to still be standing there dumbly, hands by his sides, waiting. 

Hadn’t that been his original plan? To walk away while the bot was busy?

Wordlessly, he proffers the cup. Gavin takes it, despite himself. The transfer from hand-to-hand is awkward, and the android’s fingers fumble against his for a split second. 

Fingers. Warm, soft. Human. It’s another shock out of a thousand. Another way that they’re bending technology into humanity, mixing the two until they’ll be indistinguishable from one another. If it was dark, if he didn’t know, if Gavin grabbed an arm or a hand or laid his palm on a forehead, he wouldn’t be able to tell. 

A vague notion of it runs through his mind—dark room, warm skin. Not the android’s; simply a stranger—not that he’s had the time to spend time with many strangers in dark rooms. 

He doesn’t thank the android. It doesn’t ask for one either. Simply regards him with those dark, shining eyes, head tilted slightly, like he’s looking through Gavin’s head and out the back. Gavin stares back. Words bubbling in his throat; shouted ones, what’re you looking at or get away.

“Connor!”

Hank’s voice. It breaks him out of his reverie; does the same for the bot. Connor, right. What he calls himself. What Hank calls him too. 

Soft.

He turns and ambles away. Leaving Gavin with his small cup and his thoughts and the memory of that gaze, that skin, that throat. 

Human. So close. Almost there, a hair’s breadth away. 

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed, Background Hank Anderson Additional Tags: New Year's Resolutions, Gavin talks to his cat, Gavin is lonely and grumpy, Connor likes cats, Connor likes all animals fuzzy and soft lbr, Fluff Series: Part 1 of Pick Me Up ;) Summary:

Gavin tuned off the TV, throwing the remote down and frowning down to the table. Meeps mewed quietly for once, trotting over to him, playing with his hands where they were dangling between his legs. He huffed, scooping her up to give her the attention he was craving right now.

“Maybe I should be better, Meeps...” Gavin muttered, scratching behind her ears and watching as her eyes squinted in appreciation. “Be less of an asshole. Maybe then I wouldn't be alone.”

---