Chapter Text
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He scratched at the stubble of his chin, staring blankly at the scrappy brick wall as he listened to the police scanner. His gaze shifted down from the bleak conditions he was exiled into and onto the beautiful art he had crafted, silently, hidden, unbeknownst to those who dance along the city streets.
It was quite a shame.
Or, it was quite the opportunity.
He had gotten the text just a moment ago, being told to “switch on the scanner” which was foolish, he always kept it on. He was working rather illegally after all (which was a misfortune, why could no one appreciate his work?). He’d never let himself get snuck up on like that. The other thing he was told was “They know” which first made him frown, then grin.
He was getting notoriety, this was the time to celebrate!
But with whom?
A rustle sounded from above him, heavy feet rushed down the stairs and burst unceremoniously into his study. He didn’t humor the intruder by facing him, just scoffed. “So you caught an Android?”
He could partially hear him falter. “You seem oddly calm, Charlie.”
Charlie grinned, turning and leaning against his desk. “I’m ecstatic, Vinnie,” he pinched a corked vile between his middle and pointer fingers, “They’ll finally put my name in Detroit greats. LeRoy Foster, William Sommer…” He grinned a little wider, “Carl Manfred.”
”They don’t put drug dealers with painters—“
”I haven’t dealt anything.” He snapped, ”But… what is art if not shared?”
He scoffed, shaking his head, and dropped down into a rackety plastic chair. “They won’t put you in a fucking museum— face it, you’ll be locked up with the rest of the smiley downtown freaks.” He chuckled, loud and cold, chucking his gold-plated mask onto the unforgiving concrete ground. “And I’m gonna go down with you.”
Charlie rolled his eyes, “So dramatic. They’re not gonna lock us up over a plastic.”
“I’m sure that ’Connor‘“ He mocked, making some sort of impression of its voice. “Will, think otherwise. That thing is going to be a bitch, I can feel it. Poor little Lidia this, Lidia that— bleh.”
He reached to curl a short strand of dark hair. “There there, Vin.“ he cooed, clacking as he flinched out of his hold. Scowling at him.
Lidia huh?
That’s a nice name.
━━𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁━━
Connor
“̷̧͌W̵̱͒ẻ̷̖l̴̝̐l̷̀͜,̴͓͐ ̵̤͛ş̴͋ì̷̤n̶͎̏c̷̝̽e̷̗͆ ̵͍͂y̸̠̿ó̷̫ṵ̶͛ ̵̯̇s̶͇͑a̴͙̓i̶͉͌ḓ̶̒ ̶̙̿p̷͕͗l̵͕̓e̷̪̓a̸̼̍s̵̳̈e̴͚̋,̶̻̂”̸̤͛
He stepped out and shut the car door, but couldn’t help leaning over and peering through the open window. “Thank you again for the ride home, Detective. I assume I shouldn’t get comfortable with your nice side?“ He teased, and a flicker of emotions passed the Detective's face. All of which were very amusing.
Gavin pressed his lips together, but that just redirected his laugh through his nose. He shrugged, pulling on his widest smirk. “Well, maybe you can. But don’t go spreading this shit around. If everyone thinks I’m gonna go soft they’ll expect me to be nice to them.” He clicked his tongue. “That would be no good.”
”Ah, of course, can’t go around soiling your representation.”
”See you get it.”
Connor smiled, which was… odd. Smiling around Gavin was most certainly odd but it felt… familiar somehow? Smiling with Gavin specifically, not smiling in general— obviously, he’s smiled before, that’s a given—
RA9 is he rambling in his own brain?
He shook himself out of it, but his eyes immediately locked with Gavin’s and he felt like his mind was babbling on again. Maybe it was just a newfound appreciation for clear sight, but he couldn’t help but wonder how he'd never seen that beauty before. His eyes were forest green and soft. A calm in the storm of a wild man.
Mutual disdain, he reminded himself, but then quickly found it hard to remember.
How long was he standing here? Doesn’t matter, Gavin was smiling back at him. Smiling at…h̸͇̊i̶̙̒m̶̠̓?̷̬̄
"̸͉͌Ȏ̶̱p̵̩͘p̷̡͐o̴̥͆s̷̟̈́ḭ̸̾t̶͔͒e̷̻̍ ̵̤̓f̸̥̅o̵͈̽r̵͚͒c̸̫̓ë̷͇́s̴̯̊ ̷̳̚a̵͖͋l̶̲͂ẃ̸̱a̴͎͗y̵̠̅s̵̡̿a̷͉͝t̴͎̲̐̓t̴̬̞̑̈́̏r̸̡͎̲͒̍a̴̮̔c̸̡̱͐t̷̰̽͐,̷̨̼̈́́ ̷͚͊ả̵̼͇ṇ̸̕d̸̛͓͂ ̵̗̬̔ẃ̴̠̺̍͝ͅh̷̪͝ë̴̙͈́n̵̹̖̓ ̶̳̝͉̋t̵͕̖̐́̌ͅh̸̼͎̃̑e̴͉͈͑͘y̵͖̏͜ͅ ̶͈̏č̷̲͇͑o̵͎͊͐̏l̸̨͆͊̈ĺ̷̛̳i̶̭̝͙̇͛̓d̷̛̮̈́̽e̴̮͚̍̓-̵͓̹͔͛-̷̟̰͛̀̽"̸̗̫͇̉
̷̲̫́͜"̶̨̙̈̋N̵̳̝͑̇͜a̶̟͒̿̚h̶̩̺̽͜͝,̶̢̏ ̸̬͗̋I̸̡̮̔̏͝ ̵͚͈̀̄̽f̵̼̙̏͋̓ē̷̗͂e̴̼̹͋͊̈l̶̝̞͎̀̚ ̶̨̪͛t̷͚͔̖̗̤̀ḧ̶̢͕̣͖̾͑̚͝e̶̢̅̇̒̚̚ ̴̛͕̬̙̮̦̫̒̋͂̓̇͝p̶̨̻̖̞͎̤̮̂ę̶̣͉̤̼̈́̋̋͒r̴̩̿̉̊̚͜f̶̡̙̬̰͑͗͛͐̒͑̃ę̴̛͚̫̱̳̙͉̈͌̇͒͘͝ĉ̵͖̙͇͇̍̂̅͝t̸̞̳̮͇̤̓͗̓ ̵̱͊́̀͗͜a̶̫͉̯̍m̸̼̟̬̖͛͐̎́͂o̸̢͉̠͐͒̀̚u̵̦̙̍͐̃͛̐͊͘n̷̮̍̎͐t̵͈͕͋͝ ̸̧̤͈͈̮̩̂̇̈́͋̈́͊͘o̶͔͔̜̎̄́̅̈́̊́f̵̢͑ ̸̞͓̀̏̑͘s̸̘͙̟͋̂́p̷̢͚̽́̉̈͌̕ȍ̶̡̞̓̾͛͝i̸̲͈̔̇̊̾̑l̶̢̧̪̺͋̀͝͝e̴̻̱͈͒̚d̶̜̻͍̞̞̤͔͊͋͗.̴̡̝͔͔̠͛̑̿͝"̵̧̫͎͓͎̪̾̄͜
̵͈̙͙͙͕̯̩̽̇̀̈́"̶̮̈͗͐̒̚͜͝W̷͖̞̥͙͔̉͒͜h̸̼̼̑̌͑͂̆̿̂ả̶̻̤̲̫͇̀t̸̬̟̠̩̹̿̋͐͐̋̐̅͜-̵̡̛̞̙͚̄͐̄͋̕͠-̵̡̡̨͚̻̿̒̈́̔̏̓̕?̴̼̺̠̗̏ ̶̛̗͔̞̣̞͓̉̑W̷̢͉̒ě̵͉̰͎̾̈́̅̇l̷̨͕̀̅͘l̶̢̝̮̥̭̦̲̎,̴̪͗ ̶̰͍͛̂̽y̸͕͒̊̈́̃̐̅͝e̶̖͎̪͚̖̙͂s̶̛̼̏̉̈́ ̷̖̳͕̳̤̺̎̌͘͝b̷̡̼̺̒͗͜u̶̱̭̎̊̉t̵̼͚̩͛̃̍̄͘͝ ̸͍̗̾̀̕n̴͖͍̲̄̇ö̸̽̈́͑͂ͅ.̶͖̠̏͠"̷̧͙͔̤͕̾ͅ ̵̺̻̖̼̭̋̓̓͜͠͝H̸̹̗̟̓͆e̸̐̉͌ͅ ̶͖͎̓̽͋s̸͓̙͇̄̂͘͜ḧ̵͕͓̭̭̤̫́͋͗r̴̢̨̡͇̜̣̹͑ů̶̝̙̦̠̲̆̀ḡ̸͈̬̫̑́̕g̴̮͍̅̑̈ȅ̷̢̧̟̟͎̙̯d̶̛̤̀̓͝.̵̡͉͇̲̣͉̗̾ ̷̝̫̃̓͝"̵̣͚̣̏̈̊̉̆Ȉ̷̳͔͓̐̃̑͂̏̄ ̶̨̬̫̟̎̋̃m̵̦̳̘̍́ȩ̷̨̡̞͓̽͝ą̴̱̮̇̿͛̇̑̆͘n̷̢̦̫̳̙̙͌̈́̔͌͆̀͝t̴̡̡͕͓̪̃́̓̍̀̃ͅ ̵̞͎̤̩͔͚̠́̇͆t̶̳̣͖̞͂̕ḣ̵̖̹̻̓̉̄̄̐ḙ̶̳̫͔͊̓̓͌ ̶̧̢̡̨̛͕͖̽́̂̎͝͠ź̵̼̯͚̖o̵̧̟̱̣̳͊̽̏o̵͚̙̼̣̺͙̓ ̶͔̞̼̝̲̺͛̌͊̂̐̈̄d̵̼̬̦̈́͊̏̐̍̚͝í̴̢̟͕͈̭̹̩̈͆̚p̸̧̛͕̤̭̬̱̩̈̂̉s̸̨͎͇̀̀͌̀͘h̷̡͕͇͈̖̊i̴͂͜ṭ̵̺͔̯̄̾͌.̶̼̳̑"̵̦̹̲͕̫̅̑̿
̴̢̧̨̛͇̠̤̈́̾̈́"̸̮͕̭̻̤̯̈́̿̇̔͘T̵̘͍͓̓̔̃̊̎̍͝h̶̳̚i̴͍͑s̸̨͓̔̉͌͗ ̷̤̑̈́̈̍̓ȋ̵͉̺̯̍͋͑̀s̵̮̤̲̑̔͊ ̸̛̫̟̠̼̼͖̀͑g̴̛̩̩͉̗̮̟̲̒̀͌̏͑͠ǒ̷̙͑̉͆̌̐i̵͇̙̰̾̿̏̽̃ņ̷̫̘͔͍̾̔̑͌͆͘̚g̷̘͇͍̿̌̽͊̉̓͝ ̷̜̽͛̏̊̌̓t̷̰͊̐͗̔͌o̶̻̞̹͊́̂ ̸̥͚͉͊b̸̭͊̋̈́̏̿e̴̜̼̬̘̟̪̾̉̅̕ ̶̩͇̳̠͇̗̈̃̚͜a̶̞͔̘̙͇̩̎̀̚ͅ ̷̥̔̀̇̊̀̚͠ḑ̷͉͓͚̭̻́͗ừ̴̙̰͎̫̆͑m̵͔̠̔p̶̛̙͇͉̱̞̃̈́s̴̮̤̃̿̋̿̈́̑ͅṱ̵̠͚͍͓͊́̽͒̈̕e̶̼͙͑̂̒r̸̮̝̖͉̉ ̴̥̰̦̊ͅf̸͔̈̍̏̓i̸̹̤̻̹̤̝͋̔r̴̦̲̯͊̑̚ê̶͔͈̼͚͙̙̆͝͝-̶̧̛̮̟͎̮̀-̸̛̹͍̘̺͈̹͒̏̃͆̚ͅ"̷͎̳̠͖̗̲̊̀̅̇̾̓
̵̩͕͇͈̺̙͌̄̏͊"̵̺͖̻̄̓͘W̸̦̓̀̀̈ͅé̶̘̹̤̊̓͛͋͜l̶̢̗͙̼̠̽͋́̉͛͝l̷̖͌̃͑̾,̵̡̧̺̤̔̃̓̔ ̴̢͇̯̩͚̔̈́t̸̡̝̼̱̯̐͋̓͜h̴̡̛̖̩̞͈͊͊̋̃͝o̵͚̝̗̮͔̟͓̓͒͊̾̊͐̕s̵͍̣̏͒̈ḙ̴̠̤͔̮͆͋͋ ̷̗̒a̶̯̣̭̞̬͗͛̂̏̈́ͅr̷̛̮̽̃͠ë̴̬̖̭͖͇͚͉́̐̆̉̔͝ ̴̘͉̦̮̳̄͒t̶͔͎̆̀̿̄͠y̸̛̼̪̰͎͎͐̈̓̀̋̌ͅp̷̥͖̪͇̞̜̀̔̌̄̎̚͝ͅi̴͙͇͓̥͈̗̪͛̉͗c̸̛̟͉̋a̴͈̞̱͓̫͆́l̸̨͈͐̈́̏͠ḻ̴̻̽̋́ͅy̵̡͙̮̅́̾͊̿͒̈ ̴͍͚͖̝̍̋͆̒̑͂́ë̷̢̡̪̭͍̲́̐̈͛n̴̨̰͈͈̖̈́̾t̶͕͇̺͆̈́̐ȇ̵̼̪̞̭̈́͌̐̚ŗ̸̺̿̐̇̒̐̐ţ̵̼̙̩̥͈̇̀̌͋̊͑̆a̵͙̮͊̀̏̿͝i̴͔̰̣̩͑ṇ̷̛͉̰̗͖̲̖̈̈́͝i̷͙͂̽ṅ̸͖̦̏̆g̴̥̻̳͓̿̕͠.̵̠̝͈̖̟̰̓̌̐̈́̆͠"̴̪̱̰͓̩̜͆ͅ ̴̥̬͇̣̾̀̔Ĉ̴̥̫̦̎́̀̽̐́o̸̤̤͉̪͙͑ͅn̵̰̱͓͐̕n̷̡͚͊̈́̎̐̉̕̕ǫ̴̻̪̹̤̙̤̖̺̤̱̀̒̃̉̽̓̐r̴̢̛̭̼̼͈̘̣̈́̉́̚̚ ̶̧͎̳͌̎̃͗̈́̑̿̓̃̚͝ͅt̶̢̡̡̮̪̑̈́̈̊̓́͛̐ē̸̡̡̱̠͚̭̻͐͋͊͘̕ͅa̸̡̫͎̘̤̝̥̝̩̬̽̓͑̀̔̔̀s̶͎̦̗̺͕̘͒̈́́̀̑́̐e̶̲̲̼͚̭̞͊̉̀͂̿̉̋̈́͌́͘ḑ̵̟̦̘̬̽͝.̷̧̼̜̞͖́̈́̂̈́̊͊́͂͘
̶̠̤͚̹̓͜͠“̸͚̱̰̇̀̀̾́͂͠O̴͈͓̞̣͇̳̺̹̬͙̣͈͋ͅͅp̸̨͍̝̣̹̻̦̠͙͚͉͍͈̙̑̾͒̌͊̊̇͊̒̍̕͘͠e̷̢̢̻̟̯̭̮͖̦͍͔̋n̷͎̦̠̯̲̦̬̣̈ ̸̫͍͇̘͈̣̐̈́̽̈́̉̈́̎͗̐̀̽͜ú̶̢̢̧̺̟̖̲̍̽́͐̃̈̅͐͂͑̕͝ͅṕ̷̟̱͈̳̱̣͎̟͙̪͐̒͑̀ ̸̡̡̗̱̖͈̲̬̲̠̳͇̲̇͋̂͋̍̈̊͋̏͑̈̑͐̕͜͠y̵̛͕͙̥̭͖͎͚̟̭̱̘͕̫̜̹͗͊̅͋̅̒̉͛͌̕ǒ̷̙̤̙̬͈̘̹̞̲̜͍̓̋̐̋̌ͅư̶̢̨̱̭͇̥͉͖̩͇͔̦͛̆̃̒r̵̡̡̖͍͈͎͔̼͉̳͎͛ ̷̛̯̘̠̪̬͒̈́̓͐̽̀͋̃̓̄̅̅̄͜͝ḷ̷̛͙̬̠͈̲͔̈́̒ơ̵̟̹̩̱̬͓̘̥͍̝̏͜v̶̡̧̯͉̹̙͎̪͕̦̞̳̻͕̋͆͊̎̓͠į̸̤̺̬̖̤͕̲̱͒̎̄͂̃̉̒̾͂̐͋̓̿̕̕͜n̸̹̗͖̘̗̽̋̂̕͝'̸̧̨̛̺̞͕̮̮̏̓͐̀̐͗̅̑̎͝ ̸̟͓̟̞̪͙̘͚͕̤̪̼̦̏̏͗͋̿̏̀͆͗̍̍͘a̴͉͋̀̒̈̄͛̕͠r̷̡̼̙͚̱̣̣̻̣͓͇͕̗̩̯̖͒͠m̷̙̼͔̦͇͔̎̋̈̌͂̊́͐̈́̌͐ṣ̸̡̢̛̛̣̮̪̞̘͚͔̞̔͊͋̆͛́̈́̈́́͘̕̕͝ͅͅ”̸̖̖̜̥̬̬̪̼͉̎͐̂͒͋̈́̀̀̍̓͜͜͝
̸̧̧̖̟̱͈̠̺͕͎̜̅̈̒̏̍͆͊́̄̃͋̽̂̇̚͜͠"̷̭̱͂̍̓̅̉̀̀̽̾̽̓̎͋̃͘T̸̛͎͇͙̥̰̩͊̏̇̔͠h̴̡̢̘̻̻͕͖̯̠̝̳̲͉̦̱̘̃̌͌̔̈́̈́̎́͑̇̄̃̚͝ȩ̸͎̗͙̻̟̰̝̠͕̟̾̉̈́͐̽͗͛͂́̒̅̓ͅr̴̛͚̤̠̄̄͌̈́̎̂̑͋͛̅̔̕͘͝é̴̖͊̓̆ ̴̛̮̲͓͙̳̦̟̠̭̼̲̖̇̆̑͋̈́̇̀̆́͆̾͑̊̄͜ị̸̢̦̬̝̳͓̘͖̹̗̬͍̫̪̠̈́̅̔́̔̆̀̽̈̈͘͝s̴̢̞͓͍͊̉̅̎̓̈́̾̍̔͒̾͋̂͂̐̚ͅ ̶̧̛̖̣͚̪͖̞̱̻̟͈̙͕̈́̌̐̆͆̌̑̒̆̈̐̕͜͝͠n̵̨̰̬͓̝̜̬͎͗̍̿̐o̴̜͖̩͔̤̲̟̫̹̗͊͗͘͜͜ ̴̞̤̞͒̒̈̎̉͒̔͋̋̀̋̕͝t̶̹͖̍̀̆͊͂̍̇͗̂͌̋̔̎̈́͠ò̸̦̠̪̟͕͍̎̓̿̐̓̏m̵̹͇̉ơ̵̛͓̞͔͙̦͉̬̲̔̿̓̋͗̄͠͠r̵̛̖̥͖̍́̌̾̊̐̂͘̕͘r̵̘̮̱̋͂̂̈̃̒́̔̈́̎̌̚̕͠͝o̴͓͎͓̣͍̍̔̑̆̄̈́̂̀̚̚͝w̴͖͚̠̙̓̈̂͗̍.̶̜̝͎̮̥̈͂́̈́͘"̶̻͈̮͖̳͇̣̥̥̯͉͇̹̮̎͗͋̇̉͗̄̎͋̀͗͌̔̚͜͝ͅ
A̷̡̢̛̝̬̦͍̱̪̯̱̘͕̞͆̏̽̈́͊̿̏̆͊͒̒̀̉̇̓͗̽̕̚͝͠n̴̹̰͎̭̟̜͉͖̊̋̀̈́̉̈̀̅̌̔͌̆̉͛͘̚͝͠ͅ ̴̨̻̖̤̭̲̠̝̹̺̙̄̐͗̀͆͜Ě̵̢̳̟̺͓͓͉͉͔̯͈̯̜̠̟̠͖͉͇̘̹̻̿̉̃̿́̊̿̈̎͑̊͘͘͝c̴̢̛̗̮̙̲̳̭̞̳̰̳̙̺̒̊̂̍͂̀̀̕͜͝l̴̢̨̧̨̛̺̝̘̳̜͓͇̼͙̤̟̖̯̱͎̼̂̀̿͑̾̋̊̑̑̔͆̐͆̿̎͌͆͑̚̕͝ȉ̵̛̛̖͕̇͊̈́̐̀̀̈̈̽̃͝͝p̵̢̧̪̝̝̝̮͖̝͈̤͈͓̙̩̩͎͚͈̣̟͐͗̇̆̓̇͋͆̌̔͝s̵̨̪̩͉̭̺̠̟̹͖̾̽͌̈́̽̿̃̎̈͛̓̽̿̕̚̚͝ͅě̶̢̧̮͈͍̗̳̙͚̝̈́̉̽̈́̍̓̐͗̚͘͜,̷̡̭͉̙͔͖̬̣͎̟̭̭̠̖̝͎̪̹̝̖̅̆́̑̅̂̚͠ͅ"̷̛̗̝̼̥͔͎̙̲͙̦̭̺̼̜̖̏̒̇̓̑̈́͑̋̐͒̍̉̂̚͝͝
—What? Why did that keep happening?
Connor shook his head. He supposed he’ll still have to make an appointment after all. His systems were in such an odd haze. First with his sight, then with these… images…
Speaking of such, he plucked the black frames off his face. “Do you want…”
”Huh?” He blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes as he tapped on the steering wheel. He must have been eager to leave. Disappointing, but not unexpected.
Well, being disappointed was unexpected. Gavin wasn’t very kind most times, even threatening to ‘drag him to robo hell’ just a few hours before. But something wasn’t the same. Not with the way he looked or the way he acted. He felt less… sharp somehow. More square and sturdy, but gentle in the eyes.
His pretty eyes.
”Connor?”
”Huh?”
Gavin chuckled at him, leaning his head on the wheel and getting comfortable. That made Connor falter. Was he misreading him before? “Am I boring you, dipshit?”
”No!” Okay, that was a little too fast. Tone it back Connor. He cleared his throat, his fingers rimming the edge of the glass of the window. “It’s just been a long night.” and you are very distracting at the moment.
Gavin chuckled again, his eyes droopy. “Why get out of the car if you were just going to keep standing there.”
”I’m sorry.” Was what he said, and part of him meant it, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His foggy yet gentle, sleepy eyes. The slight dishevelment of his hair. Even his stubble was a little more unruly than usual and so… so… enticing? Was that what he was? enticed?
But… enticed to do what?
”You’re tired.”
”Jeez, thanks Captin Obvious.”
Connor rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore that. ”You don’t seem to be in the proper state to drive at the moment, would you like to come inside instead?”
”And what? Spend the night?”
Connor tensed up and shrugged. He just didn’t want Gavin hurt, that was all. Nothing to do with his enticement (Enticement to… Gavin? To learn more about him? Being… with… Connor shuddered). He wasn’t fit to drive, not with the way he was already falling asleep at the wheel. In fact, that would explain his behavior. He was just tired and didn’t want to waste energy on Connor.
But then… why drive him home?
”It would be… more beneficial to you if you rested sooner rather than later. You could really harm yourself or someone else in this state.” Connor pursed his lips. “I’d feel reassured if you stayed.”
Gavin raised his eyebrows, then averted them to the windshield, scowling. Which was expected, but then Gavin turned his head and hid his face completely from view. Completely beside his reflection in the window. His expression was tight and tentative, but he sighed and deflated. When he turned back, Connor could see he was wearing a mask of faux irritation.
”Sure.” His mask flicked until he was looking up at Connor with a look in his eyes that made him melt. He felt weird and gooey inside, and enticed again. “If that’d make you feel better.”
’You care about how I feel?’ were the first words that bubbled in his throat, but they dissipated to nothing. Instead, despite himself, he smiled. “I’ll get the door then.”
Gavin grumbled something but switched off the car with a sigh as Connor rustled through his pockets for his keys. Gavin shuffled over and leaned his forehead on Connor’s shoulder in an entirely unprompted manner.
Connor didn’t… hate that.
(Note: Tired Gavin is more prone to psychical touch— affectionate?)
He gave him a little pat on the back, then decided that any formality was out the window, and wrapped his arm around the detective's shoulders. He must have truly been exhausted since he hummed instead of batting him away.
Connor smiled, Gavin’s messy hair tickling his nose. “You must be more tired than I thought.”
He chuckled, leaning back (unfortunate) and instead took Connor by the wrist (very fortunate) pulling him toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah.” He snickered, “Open the door before I fall asleep on you . Your dumb stupid face and very warm hands… might get a little too comfortable.”
Connor frowned as he unlocked the door. “...Thank you?”
”Shut up.”
Connor pushed the door open and they were immediately met with Sumo trudging down the hall. He butted his head straight into Connor’s legs as he stumbled through the threshold. He knelt down to give the dog a scratch on the head and ruffle the fur around his neck. “Hello, Sumo. Have you been good?” A wet tongue slid across his face. He chuckled and lightly shoved the dog back. “Gross. you lick your butt with that tongue."
”And you lick blood.” Connor flinched— he forgot he was there… “It’s not that different.”
”That is completely different.” He said, scoffing. “That’s my job. I don’t like it any more than you do, so I'd appreciate it if you didn’t give me shit for it.”
Gavin shuffled around Sumo to shut the door, his eyebrows raised in surprise before they melted back into mischievous smugness. “Yeah but… you lick shit that’s been in someone’s body. You might as well be licking ass.”
”Like I said, my job. It’s not like I’m doing it to clean someone's butt, Gavin.”
“Ew, gross.” He sang like a preschooler.
“You’re the one who brought it up, Detective.” He shrugged, getting up to his feet. “I’ll get some spare blankets, make yourself comfortable.” He said, gesturing to the couch as he moved to the closest to haul out some blankets.
“Sure thing tincan—“ Gavin wheezed, “Jesus!”
”What?” He asked but received no answer. He balled up the blanket in his arms, shutting the closet door with his foot, and struggled to peer past the bundled fabric. Gavin was looking grumpily at him, frowning over Sumo who had sprayed himself out over the detective.
”Oh, Sumo let the man breathe.”
Boof
”Silly dog. I’ll get you treats if you move.” Sumo tilted his head. “Bacon strips Sumo. Bacon strips!” Sumo hopped up and lunged to the kitchen, his nails scratching the floor.
Gavin blinked up at him.
”Don’t look at me like that.” He dumped the blanket on Gavin’s head. “I have to do what I have to do.”
A muffled chuckle sounded from beneath the blanket bundle. Gavin managed to push at the blanket and peek at Connor, his hair even more ruffled than before. He smiled up at him, “Don’t be like that, I just think you're cute.”
Connor raised an eyebrow.
”I think it’s cute. Not you’re— I mean you’re cute, obviously you’re cute, fucking beautiful even— but not what I meant. I think you and your dog are cute… well how you treat your dog— fuck!”
Connor snorted. “Real smooth, detective.”
“God— just take me now satan” Gavin grumbled and pulled the blanket back over his face.
“Aren’t you the warden of android hell? I’m sure he would if you asked nicely.”
His eyes once again peeked from the blanket. “Damn. I forgot I even said that.” His eyes crinkled as he cringed. “Forget satan— I’ll throw myself in a fucking volcano.”
”I wasn’t aware you felt embarrassment,” Gavin pulled his knees in, and Connor sat in the free spot. “Or remorse.”
”Fuck you.”
“Why? You're right here.” Connor knew it was wrong when he said it— but the way Gavin shot up straight like an arrow took him by surprise.
”Ayo?” He shuffled closer. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, tincan.”
He snickered. “But you can? How’s that fair?”
“I’m sorry— did you think I was just fucking kidding earlier?” He shuffled a little closer, smirking and completely in Connor’s space, but Connor just couldn’t quit smiling. “I don’t josh on Sir Mix-a-lot's name, Babes, you ought to be more careful.”
Then he did his god-awful wink and Connor felt like he was delirious. “You're an idiot.”
“Yeah… for you.” He winked again, and somehow, someway, it was worse than normal. His giggling was so bad he could feel himself overheat. He was desperately fanning himself with his hands and Gavin just wouldn’t shut up.
”C’mon, baby, lemme ride, ride, ride. ”
” What? ” He squeaked, giggling and bewildered.
”You heard me. Let's get groovy baby. ”
Oh. Connor was fucked. “What the— Austin Powers ?” it was an unfortunate moment for a voice crack.
Gavin thought it was hilarious though, his musical laugh filled the room. He was wheezing and hysterical until he was lying across Connor’s lap, the back of his head laid atop his chest. They were both caught by a terrible giggle fit
Eventually, the heave of their chests calmed, and they left chuckling on the couch, pressed into one another. Connor could feel his thirium pump tense and released a sigh of relief at the same time.
His arm snaked around his wrist. Connor felt sick, but also very, very nice. Everything was contradicting and confusing and he still couldn’t quite breathe right. He didn’t understand.
But it all felt warm and… familiar.
G̵̯͊͋a̵̳̒̑̾v̷͉͉̊̂́i̴̹̾͌n̶̩̥̘͐͆̂ ̶̨̏ë̴͓̣͈̿͒̇x̸͑͊͜t̶̹̜̬̐e̷̢͍͉͛͛͜n̵̛͇͛̈́̑ď̶̫̔͝ĕ̸̳̥̉̉d̸̝̝̓̑ ̶̮̼͒̉̆̇h̵̰͋̀́i̶̝̹͎̐͛͐ş̸̲̫͈̃̐̎ ̴͇̰̜͓̓l̷͉̯͙̀̀ě̴͖͕̚͜ģ̴͖̀̐́s̵̗͎̱͎̅͝ ̴̺̣̒͛̓a̶̟̔ͅg̴̥̊̿̀͠a̶̝͊̈́̋i̸̗͎̙̒͌̿̚ͅn̷͔͍͗͗,̵̙̘̦̿̆̔ ̷̳͋̎r̸̡̊̽͐ȩ̶̲̗̟́̌̆͆s̴̨͕͉̒t̴̼͑̊ḯ̵̱͕̔̂͋ṅ̶̡̘g̸̻͚̖͊͂̍̎ ̸̤͓͙̓̆̓̓ṫ̶̮͉̰̳̉h̵͕̾̈́̒̃é̷̩̥̖̠̈́͊̏m̸͎͒͛͗ ̵̛̯͙̪̉̊́ͅo̴̭̭̼͐͒̔͝n̴͈̳̪̽͊ ̵̮̥̫̐̄C̷̜̜͓̊o̷̙͚̿̔̿n̴̛̘̬̭̖n̴̜̺͗̏̄ͅọ̷̣̱͉̌̈̐̏r̶̞̬͑͘'̷̡̘̤̀š̵͚͐͒ ̶͈̌̍l̵͙͕̖͙̋̂̽͠a̷̮̲̱͍͠p̸̨̙̯̝̾̽̅ ̴̟̞̼̽a̵͇̠̞͑̄̍̕ǹ̷̺̟͐d̶͕̗̼̮̾̏ ̷̢̖͎͋͋l̵͍̚ỏ̸̢̱č̷̛͍͒̕k̷̡̛̘̫͖͛̚͝i̴̖̺͓͒̀̓n̷̙̋̚̕͘ǧ̴̹̜̘͔̊͋ ̵̨̰̼̠͐̍ḧ̴̯́̓͠i̷̡͕̳̥̓m̴̻͈̀̓ ̶̢͉̀͌i̴͉̜͘n̷͔̋ ̸̡̼̋̾p̵̢̄ļ̷̗͕͍̔͂̐̆ȃ̴̘̹̤̋͜c̵̜̤̊̑͝e̵̡̜͉̟͆̋̎̽.̴̳̖̔͝͝
̷̞̿̐"̴̛̩͙̈́͋͌G̷̙͛ạ̵̧͙̅v̵̰̞͍̓̓́̚i̷̺̝̬̽̿͘n̶͖̾̃͛̚.̶̰̔ ̷̢̛̙̀̄̀Y̶͕̳̣̜͂ȯ̶̹̜̦͕̀ứ̴̫͚̹͜͠͝'̸͇̯͔͓͑͆r̸̨͉̲̩̈́̈́̋͋e̷̛͉̔̈́̉ ̷̣͎̘̀̈́l̶̬̟̳̑̃ă̷͓̍̈ÿ̶̮̱̳́i̵̮̣̻͍̐̀n̵̜̺͂̓̏g̸͉͖̉͜ ̸̨̺̜̈́́͐̏ͅo̴̳͇͝n̷̛̛̩̈́ ̵̤͉̻̈́͊̒͠m̶̳̌̉͊̂ÿ̷̧͇́̄͆̈́ ̴̮͉̞̏́ľ̷̛͓̪ấ̸̻͔̀̚p̸̢͚̊̄̔̈ͅ ̸̮͖͐l̴͓͊̌̈́͆î̵̛̦̪̩̆k̸̯̱͕͈͗̽̈e̷̡͉̗͋͋ ̶̡͈͙̎̎̔̑a̴̝͖̐̀ ̸̼̖̙̪̀̊̌͝ç̵̫̯̇a̴͓̋t̴͓̤́.̵̛̘̬̲̖̽̑̀"̵̹͗
̴̨͍̗͌"̴̫̂İ̸̳ ̸͉͙͚̂͝w̴̻̗͗̂o̷͖͇̻͙̍u̷̦̇̒̐̚l̴̰̯̚d̵͖͎͙̆ ̸͇͙̻͚̀l̴̻͎͕͋́̀̉ͅī̸͕͆͝k̸̛̪͓̫͗̏͐͜ề̷̢̝̗͖ ̴̩͎̰̼̋ṯ̵̡̎͆o̵̗͚͋̾͜ ̷̢͈̍̃͘ḃ̸̡̳̭̩̃̈e̶̡̜͖̅ĺ̸̡̙̝̊̚ǐ̸͇̥̜̍͊̆ͅè̸̫̉̃͝v̷̘͎͚̲̽̆̇e̷̛̗̱̟̺̒̑ ̶͉͗͌́ẏ̵̡̗͖͕͘ö̸̟͙̫́͜u̸̳̰̼͑͛̇̕'̵͙͎̈́̌ȓ̶͖͗e̵̛̼̼̲ ̵̡͔̦̇̕s̶̫̺̹̫̿̾̎͝u̶͎͐̉́̿ĩ̸̳͈̦̳ť̴̙̗͓͜á̴͇̦͈͝b̷̺͖͇͚̆͌͝ļ̵͕͕͚̅͂y̶̙͋̅̍͝ ̶̠͕͍̉t̶̢̺̤̘̄e̷̖̿̕ņ̵̖͔͝d̴̛̩̪̾̎̈ê̸̻͝ḏ̴̱͊̓̀̚ ̴͉̭̻̬̔͗̇t̶̬̱͇͌̂ŏ̶̮̫.̴͎͐̄"̸̬͊̑̈̓
Connor squeezed his eyes shut, and his hold on Gavin tightened too.
He was so, so confused. He could’ve sworn he was hearing things, seeing things. Seeing smiles, feeling the linger of soft touches. The sun on his face. An Image on the back of his hands.
Ả̸̩n̶̢͓̰͔̰͂̈́͋̓̊̌ ̷͔̆̐̓́̚Ě̶̪̜͉̳̓͗̈́c̵̨̨̮͈̯̄͝l̷̼̯͌͗͋ȉ̶̜̮̣̱̒̒͝p̵̡̖͔̘̈́̽͠s̶͈̯̙͓̪̭̊̃̈̌͠ě̶̪͎̙̫̑̊͋͐͜ͅ,̵͓̘̔̿"̵̩̘̼̙̮̆͗̚
Gavin's voice rattled him from his thoughts. ”How do you even know who Austin Powers is?”
Despite all the odd feelings and images, and voices, Connor felt himself chuckle. His nose dug a little deeper into Gavin's dark hair, his glasses sliding ever-so-slightly out of place.“
“Ȉ̵̘͚̯͍̖̱̾̎̀̚͘ ̶̛̲̤̞̰̻̌̀̚t̴̢̛͎͓͎͙͋̓̄ǒ̷̞̄l̷̨̤̤̟͉̀̈́d̴̥̖̣̪̤̍́̃̐͘͝ ̸̤̼͙̔ỷ̵̝̳̮̤̼͕̈́̓̐̋ŏ̴̧͍̗̝͓͊̆̎ų̸̛̙̦̄ I live with a very strange man”
Gavin tensed in his hold, “You— you what?”
There was an increase in his heart rate too… had Connor said something wrong. He checked over his statement with his sparsely used social protocol and it irked no issue. His eyebrows furrowed. “I live with a very strange man?”
”No— not…” Gavin paused and threw himself from Connor, backing up to the other end of the couch. Connor frowned at the sudden distance. “Nothing… nothing, it's fine.” He gave him a shaky smile.
Connor's frown deepened. He considered probing him a bit, try to find his mistake, but a wet nose prodded his hand. Sumo whined. Maybe Connor needed to take a step back for a moment. “Yes, I suppose I did promise you a treat.” He got up and headed to the kitchen, taking the bag of bacon-flavored treats and tossing one for the dog to catch. “Would you like some tea, Gavin?”
There was a short moment, and then a muffled “Carmel Apple.”
“One of my favorites.” He pulled out a kettle and filled it with water, setting it on the stove. He waited for the whistle before pouring it into a mug. He let the teabag simmer for a while, poured the milk and the sugar, and took it to serve to his guest with a spoon.
But when Connor walked into the living room he was immediately met with snoring, and he nearly flinched at his own smile slowly creeping on his lips.
He placed the tea on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. Gavin looked so peaceful and sweet. Even his snoring was endearing and the stubble rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic.
He tsked at himself, what was wrong with him? He needed to get his head out of the gutter (not like that) and into a working mindset. This was his temporary partner for the next few days until Hank returned from Novi. The last thing he needed was to soil their already troubled relationship.
Instead, he needed to focus on the case. He needed to think. Gates was gone by the time they got back from the stairwell, but they assumed he was still in the building. Until they actually tried to find him. Why had Gates left? Why was he avoiding contact with the police? Why so painfully adamant on keeping it on the down low? Connor had a feeling it wasn’t just about Androids or his business. What were they missing?
Vince Gates…
What all do they know about Vince Gates?
Gavin snored next to him, muttering something as he curled around the couch pillow. It was so… cute, Connor realized. Connor also realized that his brain wouldn’t hold proper focus this way. He leaned forward to drag his hand under the couch, feeling around until his fingers brushed against the cold metallic of his laptop. He pulled it out and sat cross-legged, setting it on his lap. He twirled his wrists and took a deep breath.
Objective : Find out more about Vince Gates
(Where would he be?)
The skin on his hand shrunk back as he interfaced with the rather dingy computer— he had gotten it from Hank since the man had upgraded and no longer needed it. Connor didn’t see the point of buying a new one when he barely used this one. He opened a few sites and entered an array of searches.
He focused on ‘Vince Gates’ and ‘The Dread Club Detroit.’
The first thing to pique his interest was an image posted near the creation of the club. Gates was standing outside of the club, shiny and new, with two other people standing beside him. Connor was able to identify one as “Charles Domin.”
A business partner maybe?
Interesting how Charles wasn’t present then, were they even notified? He seemed to have a history in technological positions, but other than that his file was very vague.
Near the two was an Android, PL600, and he was shaking hands with Gates. Which was… odd considering Gates standing on Androids. Why shake hands with one? For show?
Connor sighed, pursing his lips and leaning back into the couch cushions. His eyes idled, first watching Sumo curled up on his pillow, and somehow moved to a sleeping Gavin. Despite every protocol telling him not to, he reached out a hand, gently fussing with his hair.
But then his synthetic skin peeled back.
He flinched and retracted his hand— what the hell was that? Why couldn’t he keep his hands to himself? He never felt the urge to touch him before. He didn’t understand.
”Hey, why’d you stop?”
Connor almost fell off the couch.
━━𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁━━
Gavin
He snickered, “Uh, you good?”
Connor aggressively nodded, his chest heaving and his LED a bright, startled red. It pulsed and shifted to yellow. “Fine— I just— I hadn’t known— I’m sorry.“
“Nuh-uh. No apologies.”
”Why—“
”Because you do it too damn much and most of the time you haven't done shit wrong!”
Connor tsked. “It’s called taking accountability.”
“Accountability for what? Existing?” He shook his head. “Your fucking ridiculous.” He rolled his eyes at him, repositioning his laptop on his lap.
”Should I tell you what I found?” Gavin nodded, adjusting himself to give Connor his attention. He continued, “So I found an image online of Gates, an android, and who I believe to be a business partner.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow, his interest officially piqued “Go on.”
“The Android is a PL600.” Damien. Connor titled his laptop screen for Gavin to see. A man was standing beside Gates. Slender and blond, with an odd glint in his eye. “And I’ve managed to identify the other man as Charles Domin”
Gavin nearly snorted— of course Con would be ten steps ahead of him. “What do you know about Domin, then?”
“Long history as a technician as well as an engineer. He was even employed at Cyberlife at some point but has been working at The Dread since its opening. He’s mainly responsible for security and surveillance.”
And here Gavin felt like they were grasping at straws. The answer to the Charlie mystery was right in front of them. The guy had tinkered with Androids for a living, and bombs were arguably simpler.
He quickly untangled himself from the blanket, hoping to his feet ”Get us an address, we’re gonna pay Charlie-Charlie a visit.” But as he moved to grab his jacket there was a sharp tug on his wrist.
”Gavin it is four in the morning, and you’re still in no position to drive— this is merely a suspension, being too hasty could be detrimental.” Connor sighed and pulled Gavin back to the couch. “We need to be satiric.”
This guy won’t let him get away with anything, huh? ”Okay, I have a plan. You drive, I talk, and we figure out what the hell is going on here.”
”Gavin—“
”Con, we have no time to waste. This could be very serious. Bigger than me, you, or that girl who got killed tonight. It was a plot, they knew exactly what they were doing, imagine if they did that again… and again, and again.”
Gavin didn’t quite as how to imagine as hard as Connor probably did.
He needed this lead. With every loop, they got a little bit closer, and if Gavin could close this gap while they still had time it would change everything! He had to talk to Charles with or withou—
“Fine. Give me the keys.”
Oh damn, that was easy.