Chapter Text
Connor supposes he should be grateful Captain Fowler is even allowing him to continue to work at all without Hank there. But as Gavid Reed slams his palm onto Fowler's desk and points an accusatory finger towards Connor, he can’t help but feel like the Captain had to be playing some sort of sick joke.
Hank had gotten injured on their latest case, nothing major, but a broken leg meant he was off field work for the time being, and Connor was sure he was going to be on nursing duties until Hank healed. The revolution was still raw in the eyes of humanity, and androids had yet to be given rights to work, earn a wage, own property, or even open a bank account. It was only due to some stroke of luck, and perhaps Fowler's soft spot due to Connor bringing his Lieutenant back from the brink of death, that the Captain had offered another solution.
Connor wasn’t allowed to work in a Detective capacity, or any capacity really, but there were no laws against him being a consultant on the force in the interim. It came with its drawbacks; he couldn’t access evidence or enter crime scenes without supervision, he wasn’t allowed to carry a weapon of any kind, and his footage had to be uploaded each day to ensure there were no discrepancies. But through it all, Hank had been instrumental in setting up Connor’s new life; he drove him to work, allowed him to stay with him, and graciously took him under his wing at work.
Which was how Connor found himself here, in Fowler's office with Detective Reed cursing out his Captain. His accusing finger turned from Connor to Fowler, and Connor saw with his observant gaze as the Captain pulled himself back from snapping at Reed entirely.
“Connor is an asset to this team and has been integral to this case so far. With Lieutenant Anderson off the case, we need our next most skilled team member on it. Which would happen to be you, Detective Reed. Unless you think someone here is more qualified?” The Captain raised an eyebrow, and Connor tried to shrink back in his seat further. He would gladly work with anyone in any capacity, but there were certain…difficulties that would arise from working with Reed.
“I know I’m qualified, Captain, but it's the fucking plastic prick I have doubts about. I don’t need some bot's help to finish Anderson’s case for him.” There it was. Connor tried not to flinch at the insult; it was something he was becoming familiar with.
Since deviating, Connor had been treated differently, or at least, it felt like he was treated differently. Honestly, emotions had confused a lot of Connor’s socialisation programming systems. Hank had never treated him differently, but all the other officers and witnesses, everyone else that Connor came into contact with, seemed to doubt him and his abilities. Like he wasn’t made for this goddamn job.
The other officers often talked through him and directly to Hank, which Connor initially presumed was because Hank was the superior officer, but when people started to respond to his comments to Hank instead of Connor, he noticed it wasn’t like that at all. When Connor asked a question, the others looked to Hank to confirm it before answering. When Connor commented, people often brushed past it like he hadn’t even said anything.
It was beginning to irritate him, or at least that was the closest word Connor could conjure for how he felt. He was meant to share all his new emotions with Hank to gain insights into them, but he couldn’t bring himself to share this one. Not when Hank was already toeing the line when it came to defending Connor’s honour. He couldn’t have another disciplinary in Hank's file on his behalf.
Connor waited for the argument to settle, and he could see the Captain glancing at him like he expected Connor to jump in and defend himself. Which was fair, because a few months ago, Connor wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but after four months of being ignored, he figured his words didn’t have that much weight in rooms like these.
“Detective. You have a pristine record and a frankly impressive number of successful cases; do not let this be the reason you throw away a potential promotion.” Connor tuned back into the conversation at that, only to see the Detective’s face redden in anger, highlighting the scar on the ridge of his nose. Without thinking about it, Connor started rubbing the coin in his pocket, something he found assisted him when he was stressed.
Stress level: 52% ↓
Connor loosed a breath he didn’t know he had held as the numbers on his HUD lessened. There was no immediate threat in the room, other than the Detectives' attitude; thus, there was no reason for Connor’s stress to be that high.
“Fuck off, Captain, that’s low even for you.” Reed cursed again before rounding on Connor, who had to intentionally stay still and not flinch back as Reed crowded into his space, placing his hands on the arms of Connor’s chair and leaning in close. At this distance, he could see the detective's bloodshot eyes and sneer, and his analysis system immediately kicked into gear.
Analysing…
1 → Traces of coffee present on Gavin Reed’s mouth.
2 → Dark circles present under Gavin Reed’s eyes.
3 → Increased tension present in Gavin Reed’s shoulders.
Conclusion…Potential lack of sleep and acceptable nutrition may be leading to an increased reliance on caffeinated beverages and increased animosity.
Mission: Assist Partner
→ Acquire food
→ Reduce caffeine intake
→ Encourage rest
→ Remove stressors
Connor blinked away the new mission that surfaced on his HUD, frowning at his system's immediate prioritising of missions. Connor internally grimaced at the idea of Reed knowing he had a mission to assist him, and feeding him was on the list. Then Connor externally grimaced as Reed’s words slipped out of his mouth, low and threatening.
“You stay the fuck out of my way, tin can. Don’t talk, don’t interrupt and don’t fuck with any evidence. Understood?” Reed’s voice was laced with the hint of a threat. If Connor didn’t listen, there would be hell to pay. Connor swallowed slowly and watched as the detective's eyes traced the movement, confusion briefly breaking through his anger.
“I can assure you I will remain professional, Detective. I look forward to working with you. I hope I can learn from your experience in this field.” His HUD notified him that the praise had a 67% chance of success to de-escalate Reed’s hatred towards him, but it was still the most successful strategy he could think of. Unfortunately, Reed took the other 23% chance and poked Connor in the chest. Hard.
Connor stifled a flinch as the detective's finger prodded into his Thirium pump, sharp pain following where Reed’s finger settled. He could hear the Captain's low warning as Reed grumbled.
“Don’t fucking talk to me.” And then the other man was storming out of the room, slamming the door closed, and Connor could hear him swearing at every officer that happened to fall in his path out the front.
Connor blinked again and straightened up, fingers automatically smoothing the non-existent wrinkles in his shirt to give him something to do while the Captain sighed and leaned back in his chair. Connor took this as a dismissal and rose to leave, but Fowler had other plans.
“I expect you to rise above this, Connor. You are expected to work closely with Detective Reed on this case, and we can’t have your feelings getting in the way of the biggest bust of the year.” Connor nodded, preparing to assure the Captain, but he was already being waved off. “Move your desk next to Detective Reed’s. Lieutenant Anderson will not be back until his leg is healed, so it would be more efficient to sit across from your temporary partner.”
Connor thanked the Captain, trying not to let his disappointment show through as he left the room, closing the door as silently as he could. He could sense the eyes of most of the precinct on him after Reed's outburst, but no one approached to ask like they had Reed. Which stung more than it should. They were more willing to approach a cold, rude, callous man than Connor, who was just trying to be good.
Instead, they all muttered amongst themselves, no doubt gossiping. Connor dragged his feet back to his desk to collect the few belongings he had there, ignoring the other officers.
“Did you hear the android got Lieutenant Anderson injured on the scene?”
“No way, Anderson wouldn’t let anything get the jump on him.”
“That’s the thing, I heard that RK800 was meant to be finding the missing target, but the target found Anderson.”
Connor wrapped an arm around his middle as he walked faster, trying hard to ignore the whispers of his peers and to cover his flickering LED, showing he was distressed. Unfortunately, another stipulation of his remaining at the DPD was that he had to keep his LED. Markus had nearly thrown a fit when Connor told him, but he understood, like he always did. Although sometimes it made it easier for Hank to know when Connor was distressed, it also meant the entire fucking team knew when he was distressed.
Connor tidied up his desk, well, whatever mess there actually was, which was a half-drunk Thirium pouch and a sticky note from Hank. You got this, kiddo. The words seemed to mock him now, and Connor quickly stuffed the sticky note into one of Hank’s drawers, unwilling to throw it out but unwilling to look at it.
Connor quickly gathered his belongings, a few physical case files, his sketchbook, and a succulent Markus had gifted him for his first day of work after deviating, and hurried over to the empty desk opposite Reed’s. Connor knew no one sat there because Reed was unpleasant to work with, so it was a floating desk. Whenever a temporary agent came through or a federal agent, that's where they sat, and the Detective managed to disappear for a day.
He sent a message to Hank as he placed the succulent in the sunniest spot on the desk.
Message to [Hank]: Have you had breakfast? Your pain medication is 38% more effective if taken after food.
Message from [Hank]: Sheesh, Con, you fuckin mother hen. Yes, I ate and took my meds.
Message from [Hank]: Thanks for having breakfast ready in the fridge, kiddo. ‘Preciate it.
Message to [Hank]: Of course, anything you need. There is also a selection of freezer-ready meals as well, should you require them. I prepared four of your favourites so there would be a variety.
Message from [Hank]: When the fuck did you have time to do that?
Message to [Hank]: …irrelevant.
Connor was spared the humiliation of admitting he hadn’t entered stasis last night and had stressed cooked while Hank rested by the angry voice of Detective Reed. The man locked eyes with him from the front of the precinct and was already shouting as he made his way over. Connor watched as the other officers turned away, but continued to listen.
“The fuck are you doing there, tin can?” Connor braced himself for an argument, vicious words bubbling on his tongue before the Captain's warning replayed in his head. Connor swallowed the urge to snip Detective Reed’s insults in the bud and instead tried to remain diplomatic, voice calm and soft.
“Captain Fowler requested I move my desk next to yours while we are temporary partners. I understand you may not -” Connor frowned as the Detective cut him off, leaning in close but not lowering his volume at all, and Connor could smell tobacco on his breath. Did the Detective smoke?
“Leave me the fuck alone, got it? I’ll deal with you because I have to, but don’t expect us to be friends, dipshit.” Connor’s LED swirled yellow as he tried to find the colloquial meaning of ‘dipshit’, but he was interrupted by the Captain calling Reed back into his office for a debrief of the case.
Shame burned his cheeks as the precinct openly stared at him after Reed left, and Connor decided that if Reed wanted to hate him, so be it. It didn’t mean Connor had to stoop to his level. With a shaky breath, Connor stood up and walked to the break room, intent on offering Detective Reed a coffee and perhaps one of the ever-so-slightly stale cookies from yesterday. Connor willed the blue blush painting his cheeks to disappear as the precinct continued to openly stare.
One (1) unread Message from [Hank]: Con, did you sleep at all last night?
Connor ignored the message with a guilty feeling and instead emptied the old pot of coffee before setting a new cycle to brew. While the machine whirred in the background, he selected the least stale cookie and placed it on a napkin, frowning at the greasy smear it left on his fingers. Connor watched as a younger officer walked into the breakroom, saw him, and turned around and left, and the ache in Connor’s chest grew wider.
Message to [Hank]: Maybe I should just stay home with you while you recover. I’m sure my presence could decrease your recovery time by 3%.
It was a desperate plea to avoid working with the Detective, who would definitely not treat Connor as respectfully as Hank did. At least when Hank was here, Connor had a friend, someone who had his back, but with Hank out of action, Connor could feel the sting of loneliness. It was not a fun feeling. Connor was learning that there were not a lot of fun feelings that came from deviating.
The coffee machine dinged, and Connor poured a cup with two sugars, how Detective Reed usually drank it. He hesitated before walking out. What if Reed knocked the coffee cup back into Connor like he had last time? What if Connor extended an olive branch and Reed spat on it in front of the entire precinct? Any semblance of respect Connor had worked so hard to earn over the last four months would be ruined.
He nearly dumps the coffee out, but a message from Hank pops up on his HUD.
Message from [Hank]: I believe in you, kiddo. Whatever happened, we can talk about it when you get home, k?
Connor sent off an affirmative and decided to just continue with his original plan. He didn’t have to stoop as low as Reed. He could be good and helpful, and if he was good enough, then maybe Reed wouldn't insult him so much.
It was awkward to feel the eyes of the precinct focus on him again as he walked out, and he saw with no small amount of embarrassment the number of officers who eyed the coffee with confusion. Connor stood up straighter and forced his LED back to blue. What was it Hank always said? Fake it ‘til you make it? Yeah, Connor could do that.
Connor silently places the drink and cookie on Detective Reed’s desk before sitting opposite him and logging in, deciding that Reed had already told him to stop talking to him multiple times a day, and it was best not to push it. Connor waited impatiently for his new computer to log him in, spinning his coin between his fingers absentmindedly as he watched Detective Reed ignore his peace offering.
At least he wasn’t yelling at Connor. That was an improvement, right?
The system let him in, and before Connor could click to access the evidence folders, a pop-up appeared on the screen.
Authentication required.
Connor sighed and looked despondent at the screen. Right, a new screen meant needing a human supervisor to approve his access. He looked over at Fowler and saw the man on the phone frowning. He was out. Connor could ask Hank to approve him remotely, but the man was meant to be resting, and he didn’t need any extra stress. That left one option, and Connor was losing hope of ever logging in again.
“The fuck you looking at, tin can?” Reed’s voice cut through Connor’s frown, and the android jumped slightly.
“My apologies, Detective. It was not directed at you, I was merely -” Reed interrupts, and Connor shuts his mouth immediately. No use continuing to talk if no one was going to listen, anyway. Connor averted his gaze to his desk, wondering if staring long enough would burn a hole in it.
“Make it snappy, dipshit, I don’t have all day.” Connor frowned. It was 10 am, and Detective Reed did in fact have all day. His socialisation programming suggested this was a figure of speech to indicate Reed wanted him to hurry up.
“I need human authorisation to access the network, Detective.” Sighing, Connor clicked the ‘x’ in the top corner, hoping some miracle would close the tab and leave him to actually do his job, but the pop-up continued to appear. Reed snorted and walked around to Connor’s computer, quickly inputting his credentials before stalking back over to his desk and doing a double-take at the coffee cup.
“The fuck you need human authorisation to - when the fuck did that get there?” Reed frowned and touched the cup, seemingly surprised it was warm. The Detective looked around, confused, and Connor braced himself for the inevitable backlash.
“I put it there, Detective. My analysis suggested you were tired, so I acquired a caffeinated beverage and sustenance. My apologies, it is not a full meal; it was all that was available in the breakroom.” Reed continued to frown at him, and Connor took that as a win, turning back to his computer in an effort to allow the Detective the space to accept or reject his offer.
Connor felt a fizz of pride when Reed sipped the coffee and closed his eyes, shoulders untensing. Connor did not expect gratitude, but it made him feel nice to do something to aid his temporary partner.
Reed didn’t talk, and neither did Connor, who needed to complete last night's report and send it to Hank to sign off on. He really did try to avoid emotional language, but the sight of Hank's shattered leg and his yell of pain kept creeping into his thoughts. After the third rewrite, Connor let out a noise of frustration, followed by an immediate apology when Reed glared at him.
Connor finished off the report and began assembling a clean handover for Detective Reed on his new case. There had been a recent uptick in android murders, where they had been drained of Thirium, and Hank suspected they were using the Thirium to make Red Ice. To be fair, there was also the implication that whoever was doing this worked for a larger ring of people, so not just a single man operation, and that the group were anti-android, given the cruel ways in which the androids had been harmed prior.
Connor knew if he led with the android first, Reed wouldn’t give a shit, but if he led with the number of accidental OD’s and the increased number of violent crimes related to their Red Ice dealer, the Detective might take the case more seriously. So far, there were only three leads - one of which was explored the previous day. There was a junkie who had OD’d but managed to get to an ER in time to save their life, who might know about how to obtain Red Ice. Then there were the witnesses surrounding the so far six crime scenes who had helped provide Hank and Connor with descriptions of two people involved. And last but not least was the Red Ice dealer Hank had put behind bars ten years ago, who had recently got out on parole, which is who they were chasing last night. But even that turned out to be a dead end, and the reason Hank was now on forced medical leave at home.
He decided to play it safe and email this debrief to the Detective rather than initiate a conversation, and when the ping arrived on Reed’s desktop, he could see the raised eyebrow the man sent his way. Shit, this was going to be a long partnership. Connor tried not to stare as Detective Reed read over the case and started reading further into files and reports, sipping his coffee and eating his cookie while doing so.
“Why isn’t last night's report in the system, dipshit?” Connor dropped his gaze to the desk, blinking in frustration at his limitations.
“I need Hank to sign off on my report before it can be approved into the system, Detective. However, Lieutenant Anderson will currently be sleeping as he took his medication about an hour ago. It should be approved by this afternoon, my apologies.” Connor droned off. The training module that Fowler had supplied him had provided explicit explanations for questions about his authorisation and abilities. It was annoying, but he honestly hadn’t had to explain it to many others before today, Hank just sort of…knew.
Connor tried to decipher the next raised eyebrow Detective Reed sent his way, but he couldn’t quite pin down whether he was angry, confused, impressed or bored. Connor would bet money on being angry or bored, that was if he were allowed money. Hank had provided Connor access to his bank account after Connor nearly powered down from running low on Thirium, stating he could use it whenever he needed, but Connor tried not to touch it.
He knew Hank’s funds weren’t in the best spot after the last few years of depression and alcoholism, and Connor refused to add any amount of burden onto that financial strain. He could survive on lower than ideal Thirium levels and the inability to purchase clothing for himself. He was fine wearing Hank’s old clothing anyway; no one seemed to care what he wore as long as they could see his LED.
“Let me guess, that’s why none of your witnesses have been questioned yet, plastic?” Connor grimaced, his pride swelling in his chest, and anger swirling in his eyes as Reed gloated over him. Connor gave a curt nod and tried not to punch the Detective when he laughed loudly at Connor, drawing the attention of the room, and Connor hunched into his seat, blue blood burning the tips of his ears.
Reed seemed more relaxed after laughing at Connor, and honestly, Connor couldn’t bring himself to care. He was busy preparing questioning points for the witnesses so that any key information he wanted could be obtained by whatever officer Fowler assigned to question them now that Hank wasn’t here.
It was only midday, and Connor was desperate to leave and never return. Connor watched carefully as Reed drained the rest of his coffee and grabbed one of the files from Connor’s desk, flicking through it as he walked out of the precinct. He only stopped when he noticed Connor wasn’t following him.
“With me, tin can. C’mon, don’t got all day.” Connor jerked upright and nearly stumbled on his way to follow Reed. Hope bubbling in his chest that Reed was including him in whatever he was planning. He followed Reed to the man's car, impressed by how clean it was and how similar it was to Hanks's. It was an old stick shift, and Connor blinked at the fact that surprised him. It shouldn’t. Detective Reed always seems to choose the path of most resistance to anything, ever. Why would his car choice be any different?
The two drove in silence, Reed tapping his fingers to whatever punk rock music was playing through the speakers, and Connor watched with fascination as the Detective maneuvered the car, drummed his fingers and concentrated on the road. Reed was a much better driver than Hank, and Connor smiled slightly at the fact.
Connor opened his mouth to ask Reed a question about the music when Reed sharply cut him off with a glare. The look withering in Connor’s chest as he sank lower into the passenger seat, lips firmly held shut and LED flickering to yellow for a split second before he forced it back to blue. Even when they pulled up to the hospital, Connor was bursting with questions.
Reed seemed to have a moment of rare mercy on the android, huffing as the two of them exited the car.
“We’re going to question your OD survivor, dipshit. He’s the strongest link to a dealer we have.” Connor perked up at that, excited that Reed seemed to be a bit more ‘get to the action’ than Hank, who liked to take things slow. Reed rolled his eyes at Connor's visible excitement, muttering something under his breath that Connor couldn’t quite hear, but understood the tone of.
Connor let Detective Reed take the lead, notifying the front of house staff of their purpose, and a staff member smiled warmly at him, and Reed struck up a conversation while they waited for security to escort them. Connor watched as Reed smiled, his eyes crinkling at something the nurse said, and the nurse blushed back. Frowning, Connor wondered why Reed hated androids so much.
Security arrived, and Reed said goodbye to the nurse, who said he could visit anytime, and Connor felt something akin to jealousy spark. Why did she get niceties? Reed didn’t even know her name! Connor was still frowning as they went to enter the elevator, but security placed a hand on his chest and stopped him from entering.
“No androids allowed on patient floors.” Connor heard Reed snort again, and he frowned deeper, LED swirling yellow.
“I am consulting on this case with the Detroit Police Department. I have authorisation to be here.” Connor tried to keep his voice steady, but he could feel the tightness in his words. The security shrugged and pushed Connor back, reiterating their rule. He heard Reed scoff from inside the elevator.
“Fucking hell, he’s with me, he can come up.” Connor could practically hear the eye roll, and when he peered around the security guard, his suspicions were confirmed, with Reed leaning against the side of the elevator, one foot resting on the wall behind him, and arms crossed.
“No can do. The android has to wait outside the premises. You can collect him when you’re finished, Detective.” Connor felt his LED blink red for a moment, and rage filled his mouth and curled it into a scowl. He saw Reed push himself off the wall, frowning at the security, and Connor knew it wasn’t worth the fight.
“Whatever. I’ll wait outside. See you soon, Detective.” Connor sounded sullen to himself, but he couldn’t be bothered to argue. They needed to question the OD survivor, and if he had to let Reed do it, he would. He briefly caught sight of Reed's disapproving frown and had to swallow the urge to flip the man off, something that would definitely get him kicked out of the hospital.
Instead, he stalked outside and sat on the stone fencing, drawing one leg up to rest his chin on. He messaged Hank while he waited, boredom chewing on his brain.
Message to [Hank]: How are you feeling?
Message from [Hank]: bored shitless. Anything exciting happen at the bullpen?
Message to [Hank]: Reed and I are partnered together to finish our case.
Message from [Hank]: the fuck? What was jeff thinking? You alright kid?
Message to [Hank]: I’ll be fine. Just. Frustrated, I think.
Message from [Hank]: I bet. We can talk more when you get home
Connor sighed and finished the text chain, running simulations in his head to kill the time until Reed came back. He watched a pair of men across the road spot him and walk up and down the street a few times. Connor felt his stress level rise when he saw them for the fourth time, and he contemplated messaging the Detective for assistance. Before he could make the decision, the two crossed the street to come stand in front of Connor.
“Don’t we know you from somewhere?” Connor shook his head, dropping his leg to stand up when one of them pushed him back down. His system pinged at the threat.
“Yeah, yeah, we do. You’re the cop bot that was on TV,” Connor tried to stand again, only to be pushed back down. He mentally messaged Reed for assistance and tried to talk down the two.
“I was present at the protest, yes, but I assure you I mean no harm -” Connor was cut off by a fist swinging at his face, hitting him square in the jaw. He toppled backwards into the garden bed, taken by surprise, and before he could blink away the pain, there was a boot kicking into his side.
Connor determined 13 different ways he could neutralise these threats, but with the government breathing so closely down Jericho’s neck and Connor’s tenuous position at the DPD, he knew he couldn’t defend himself.
A boot hit him in the face, and Connor felt Thirium drip from a now crooked nose, a yelp escaping from his mouth at the sharp sting that exploded across his face. The two voices laughed as Connor tried to stand up and got a boot to the temple in retaliation. He tried to crawl backwards, hand outstretched to indicate he meant no harm.
“Please, stop. I assure you I mean no harm.” It didn’t seem to help as they followed him further into the garden bed, ignoring Connor’s increasingly desperate pleas. One of them was laughing maniacally, while the other started to bring his phone out. Connor tried to plan how to de-escalate without violence, but a voice interrupted them.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Detective Reed stood on the footpath, looking at Connor on the floor and the two men laughing. Connor couldn’t decipher the look on his face, couldn’t determine if the disgust was directed at him or the two men. Honestly, he didn’t want to know.
“Showing this plastic piece of shit who the real bosses are.” The two high-fived each other, looking at Reed with dopey smiles, as he would agree with them. Connor used the distraction to stand up and inch his way backwards, content on sprinting when Detective Reed inevitably left him with those two. He heard Reed sigh a bone-deep sigh and braced himself for the Detective to walk away.
“This plastic piece of shit is recognised as a person under the law, which makes what you’re doing assault. I’m with the DPD, and I’m gonna give you 10 seconds to -” The pair swore and bolted, and Connor shot Reed a surprised look. He frowned and then hissed at the sensation on his face, a flash of blinding pain crossing his features before he quickly tried to hide it.
“Jesus, they programmed you to fake pain? What the fuck? Whatever, not a problem right now. Why the fuck did I just find two assholes kicking the shit out of you, plastic?” Reed sounded pissed, and Connor struggled to find an appropriate answer. But when Reed continued to stare and wait for an answer, Connor decided to settle on the truth.
“I’m not allowed to harm a human citizen without human authorisation. My apologies, Detective.” Connor sounded congested, Thirium continuing to drip from his nose as Reed stared open-mouthed at him.
Connor shrugged and wrapped an arm around his waist. He didn’t sustain any injuries, but he would be in some amount of pain until he entered stasis. Reed watched his arm with a close eye, silently staring as Connor walked out of the garden bed and back onto the footpath, wiping the Thirium off his face with his other arm.
“Yeah, no, fuck that. Consider this ongoing authorisation to protect yourself when necessary. I can’t be fucked keeping half an eye out for you all the time, tin can.” Connor blinked. Reed was permitting him to defend himself without requiring human input? His surprise must have shown because Reed grimaced and looked away.
“Thank you, Detective. I really appreciate -” Connor knew Reed would cut him off, and his voice was already dying out when the Detective finally did it.
“Fuck - Jesus - You don’t have to thank me, dipshit. Basic rights and all that. Whatever, fuck. Go home, I’m gonna write the report, and we can look into the leads tomorrow.” Connor frowned at Reed’s discomfort.
Analysing…
1 → Physical tension present in Gavin Reed
2 → Increased heart rate
3 → Eye contact avoidance
Conclusion…potential increased stress present in Gavin Reed. The suggested course of action is to remove the primary stressor.
Connor figured he was the primary stressor, so he pulled up his internal navigation and started walking home. He grimaced as the movement jostled his midsection and let Hank know he’d be home soon. Self-loathing settled in Connor’s stomach; he couldn’t even get through one day without fucking up with Reed. The Captain was going to be so pissed.
He heard the engine before he sensed Reed’s car start rolling next to him as he walked.
“The fuck are you doing, tin can?”
“You said to go home, Detective. That is what I am doing.”
“Why aren’t you getting a cab? It’ll take forever to walk to Anderson's.” Connor felt something in him snap after this shitty day. He’d already fucked up with Reed. Why not make it worse?
“Androids aren’t allowed to hire cabs anymore, asshole. I also can’t earn any money, so I can’t afford the bus fee either. Fuck off, Reed, and just let me go home.” Connor stalked off, ignoring the screaming in his head that Reed would probably report him to the Captain and he’d get taken off the team.
It filled Connor with such misery and rage that he couldn’t help but let a tear escape. He rubbed it off his face roughly and swore as he jostled his probably broken nose, bending over in pain as he cursed at the pavement. He just wanted Sumo and Hank; was that too much to ask for?
“Alright, drama queen, no need to make a scene, fuck. Get in, Anderson’s is on the way back to the precinct anyway.” Reed’s voice cut through Connor’s swearing and whirled around, chest heaving and glared at Reed.
“It’s not fucking funny to joke like that, okay? It’s fine when we’re at work, but surely you can stand to be less of a dick when no one is watching?” Connor watched Reed blink before a slow grin crept across his face. Confusion replaced all the anger in Connor’s body when Reed reached over and pushed the passenger door open for him.
“Didn’t think you knew how to swear, tin can.” Reed whistled, and Connor flipped him off as he got into Reed’s car, still confused and fuming, uncertain as to why Reed’s attitude had changed too rapidly.
They still didn’t talk in the car, and Connor only felt more confused when Reed actually did drop him at Hanks. He offered a quiet thanks and bolted inside, ignoring the way Reed grinned when he said:
“See you tomorrow at 7, tin can. Don’t make me wait out the front.”
Connor stood in the doorway for 2 minutes and 18 seconds, brain running too fast to even acknowledge Sumo’s whining for attention at his side. He was so confused, even more so when Reed implied he would pick him up tomorrow. He owed nothing to Connor; why would he offer to help?
A further 10 seconds passed before Connor heard a voice from the lounge room.
“Are you coming inside, kid, or are you just gonna hover in the doorway all night?” Hank's voice was rough and hoarse from sleep, and Connor already knew he couldn’t avoid talking to Hank about today. He replied and took his sweet time hanging up his coat and toeing off his shoes, ignoring the pain that sparked in his side at the sensation.
He ignored the living room and headed straight for the kitchen, intent on avoiding a conversation by cooking dinner. It didn’t work because he could hear Hank grumble and shuffle upwards, crutches clicking on the floor until he heard the older man sit at the dining table. Connor continued to cook, keeping his back to Hank and trying not to cry.
Another awkward side effect of deviating was that Connor now had access to the full range of human emotions without the many years of experience in processing them. Basically, he cried a lot. Which sucked, but he’d so far managed to avoid crying in front of anyone except Hank. Even though that was the case, he didn’t want Hank to feel guilty for not being at work and worry about Connor when he wasn’t around to protect him.
Connor could protect himself; he just needed to also convince Hank and himself of that fact. He could hear the chair creak, indicating Hank had leant backwards while Connor heated his dinner, and Connor continued to ignore him.
“You gonna talk about it, kiddo?” Connor shrugged, already feeling the familiar sting of tears forming in his eyes, and Hank sighed, causing Connor’s shoulders to hunch inwards. He couldn’t even go one day without upsetting Hank or fucking something up. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this line of work; maybe he would be better suited for something else.
Hank let the silence stretch on until Connor plated up his food and turned around to serve it, when Hank swore loudly, startling Connor into dropping the knife and fork he was about to bring over. Hank reached out and grabbed Connor’s shirt, forcefully bringing him closer and gently placing a hand on his chin to look at his face.
Oh. Right. He had forgotten to wipe the Thirium off his face. He tugs his chin out of Hank’s hands and turns around to wash the dishes, mumbling about it not being a big deal.
“I swear to fucking god if Reed laid a hand on you, I’ll -” Connor cut him off abruptly.
“Not Reed. Some assholes on the street while Reed was questioning our OD guy. Believe it or not, the Detective actually stepped in. It was…strange.” Connor's words were clipped, a frown burrowed into his forehead as he decided to join Hank at the table, looking down to avoid looking at the older man. Hank didn’t even touch his dinner, and Connor had to shove away the feeling of rejection that bubbled in his chest.
“Why weren’t you up there?” Connor brought a hand to his mouth and absentmindedly chewed on the side of his finger, picking at the skin with his teeth as he avoided Hank’s eyes.
“Not allowed.” The answer was short, but it held so much weight that Hank sighed and reached out for Connor’s arm, tugging his finger from his mouth and frowning at the Thirium that beaded there. Connor jerked his hand back, wrapping his arms around himself to appear smaller, something that he only seemed successful at when he was standing next to Hank, who was taller than average.
“Con…are you gonna be alright?” Connor refused to look at Hank, stubbornly wiping tears off his face and grimacing every time he touched his nose. He nudged Hank's dinner plate, and the old man gave him a look. They seemed to come to an unspoken agreement: Hank would eat so long as Connor talked.
“I just feel…a touch hopeless. Without you in the precinct, I feel like I’ve lost my only ally, and I know I will make friends at the precinct, and this is a good opportunity to do so, but it still feels strange.” Hank nodded along while Connor unloaded about the day, airing his frustrations as Hank finished off his plate. It’s only when Connor is washing the dishes again, and facing away from Hank, that he mentions Reed.
“I’m determined to give him another chance, but he makes it very difficult to do so. I also cannot seem to understand his motives. One second, he hates me, the next, he’s offering to pick me up in the morning. It doesn’t make sense.” Hanks laughed good-naturedly, but softened it to a smile when Connor frowned.
“That’s being alive for ya, people don’t make sense all the time, kid.” Connor huffed and helped Hank back to the living room, supplying him with medication and checking in on his leg, which is currently covered hip to ankle in thick white plaster.
The memory of the sound of Hank's leg shattering brings nausea into Connor, and he blinks it away, instead choosing to curl up on Hank’s good side, tuck his legs up, and position himself under Hank’s arm. He’d never say it to the man, but Connor felt he was the closest to a father he would ever have, and feeling like his father's arms were protecting him caused Connor to yawn widely.
“Did you get any sleep last night, Con?” Connor leans his head on Hank's shoulder, closing his eyes as he shakes his head no. It was clearly coming back to bite him on the ass as stasis swept him away.