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Ever since becoming a deviant, Connor has felt something special for Markus –perhaps even before that, ever since seeing him speak words of freedom and hope to a world yet unwilling to listen.
Connor had been hard-pressed to finish is mission, true, but he was also intrigued, fascinated in his pursuit of the case and of maybe something more; something out of the little, perfectly square world Cyberlife had built around him.
And oh boy, did he find more.
Markus as a leader and friend is loyal, charming and kind; as a lover he is all of those things on top of being passionate, devoted and helplessly romantic.
Connor wouldn't change that for the world.
But there are times in which, with all the love he feels for the RK200, he would punch him in the face if he thought it'd make this incurable bleeding heart think about himself, for once.
They were heading back from a long day of what Markus calls 'urban exploration' while North calls it 'parkouring their way into abandoned places so they can make out in peace'. The RK800 wouldn't necessarily admit it out loud, but... North is right.
Any rare day off that Connor gets, he spends it with Markus, kissing him for however long they can and with their hands securely twined together, interfaces open and the feeling of being loved, valued and alive flooding Connor's mind so much it makes his core nearly overheat –today was no different: Markus loves kissing Connor, loves the way the detective turns bashful at the slightest tender gesture, as unused to them as he still is; and he’s determined to always let Connor know exactly how much he loves him.
Unfortunately, finding and scaling abandoned buildings and disused places usually brings them to the less savoury parts of Detroit, and when Markus's sound unit picks up a distressing sound –Connor hears it too, someone crying and running, 73% probability of it being a small child— the RK200 instantly takes off after it.
'Damn it, Markus.' Connor still has the ghost of a smile on his lips, but he does run off after his lover.
He finds Markus hugging a child android that has removed all of her skin, possibly out of shame at her clothes being damaged and torn to the point of near uselessness in the middle of the street.
"You're ok..." Markus says, taking off his jacket and helping the little girl cover herself some more. "You're okay, child, nobody's gonna hurt you anymore..."
'Famous last words, Markus.' Connor thinks, LED going yellow, 'Babe, don't.'
Connor's eyesight immediately singles out the pursuers, and he's already calculating scenarios for how to pull his boyfriend's pacifist ass out of the fire without further traumatizing the child. "Markus... this is going to get ugly, let me handle it."
Four grown men come up to them from the shadows of the street the child just ran out of -she immediately hides her face in Markus's chest and the RK200 picks her up and stands, cradling her protectively.
"Heeeere puss puss puss...." one of them calls derisively out, "Don't you wanna come and play, little kitty?"
"What is wrong with you people, she is a child!" Markus cannot hold it in as he shields the little girl further in his arms.
These people are disgusting.
One of them sneers upon seeing the two androids. "It's a toy! It's made to be played with!" He says as if he was saying the sky is blue, "Now fuck off unless you want to take its place!"
Markus glares at them and his voice is absolute: "I won't let you hurt this child."
The man and his three friends start crowding in the RK200's space, and immediately Connor puts himself between the humans and their target.
"It would be in your best interest to walk away now." He says, courteous but with a dangerous tilt to his voice that promises pain and misery for all recipients.
These particular humans, sadly, don’t seem to be in possession of functioning brains. “And what if we don’t, tin can? You wanna fight? Or maybe you wanna take its place for your buddy?” Connor nearly openly sighs –Markus won’t fight; he wouldn’t want to regardless, but he is also quite busy with an armful of scared child to comfort so his mobility as of right now is far from ideal for fighting– so it’s going to be up to him to put these idiots where they belong. Again.
“Yeah!” one of the other humans say, “Look at ‘im, so pretty and proper!”
The one who spoke first shoves slightly at Connor’s chest. “You think you’re worth something but you’re not.” He hisses maliciously, “At the end of the day, you’re all just blow-up dolls with an ego.”
Okay, that is it. 'Wrong thing to say to the wrong person, fucker.' Connor's LED flares an angry red as he grabs the hand shoving at his chest and twists it harshly, forcing the guy to follow the movement or have an arm broken; and that’s how the first human ends up knocked on the floor –the RK800 doesn’t waste anytime delivering a swift kick to his temple while still holding the hand captive for extra force. The human is out cold instantly.
“What the fuck?! You fucking plastic piece of shit!”
Predictably, the guy’s buddies crowd up around them to attack; and Markus literally hides the child in his chest. “Connor..?”
“You just focus on keeping the child safe…” he says, chancing a look at the RK200 over his shoulder, “I got this.”
Markus would be lying if he said his thirium pump didn’t skip that beat at that confident, nearly cocky look. He’s not worried in the least, as he pre-constructs the humans’ possible moves and sees at least 12 scenarios in which Connor will totally smoke them, 8 of which are non-lethal and 4 of which end up with minimal injuries.
“C’mon, let’s waste this plastic prick!” one of the remaining thugs crows, running at Connor as his buddy tries to flank him from the side.
One of the perks of being a prototype android is, indeed, pre-construction. Connor already knows that asshole is coming up to him before he even moves, and he lowers his upper body to center himself and swing a leg back to kick him in the chest, almost simultaneously shooting an elbow forward and up, just under the chin of the one assaulting him from the front. The first one of the two is not yet downed, but there’s only him and the last one left, now.
“What the hell?! You freak!!!” The last one draws a gun.
Connor takes advantage of the still stunned condition the guy he kicked in the chest was in, grabs him by the wrist and spins him into his chest –a literal human shield.
“Shit, dude don’t shoot!”
Typical small-fry criminal behaviour, they’re ready to stop fighting and reason the moment they know they can’t win. Connor allows himself a smirk. He takes a step forward, forcing his captive along with him –then another, and then one more.
The guy with the gun is frozen to the spot at this point, and with one rough jerk forward, the RK800 makes his captive head-butt his own buddy, then he sidesteps them both and delivers a swift kick to the temple of the first, and a punch to the base of the sternum to the last one.
Four humans knocked down in under 80 seconds.
Connor barely even blinks, and his LED indicator goes yellow as he calls Fowler. “Hello, Captain. This is Connor.” A pause, “Yes, I know it is my day off, but Markus and I just stumbled on a small gang of child molesters, catching them in the act of assaulting an android child.” Another pause, probably outraged and horrified reactions on the other side. “Indeed. I neutralized them, but as I’m off the clock I’d appreciate a patrol to come and apprehend them, so that Markus and I can get the child to safety for the night. We’ll be in tomorrow morning first thing for a statement.”
Markus has been watching him almost raptly the whole time –Connor is so sweet to him, sometimes he forgets that the detective was designed to solve crimes, fight and hunt. The predatory glint in the RK800’s eyes as he reared himself for the confrontation is something that gets stored in his memory and makes his thirium pump regulator go faster just to process all the different emotions and sensations it ignites in his core. Watching Connor fight is an absolute delight –everything in him, from the way he moves to the look in his eyes, speaks of calculated strategy and innate strength and dexterity, a quiet sort of power hidden just under a layer of deceptively unassuming skin, so soft and beautiful even in his deadliness.
Not many people can say their boyfriend singlehandedly just knocked out four guys to protect him and a child. And then, as if he hadn’t and ruthlessly taken down four thugs, Connor turns to him, gentle and sweet as always: “You’re not hurt, aren’t you?”
“No.” he’s a little breathless, despite not needing to breathe, but he’s otherwise fine.
“And the child?”
Markus looks down at her briefly, and she gives him a weak smile and a nod. “She’s still a bit scared, but she’ll be alright. Let’s take her to Jericho.” Or, well, what amounts to Jericho ever since the ship was destroyed –they kept the name for obvious reasons.
Obviously, Markus doesn’t let Hannah –the child– out of his sight until she’s made to feel safe, given clothes, and reassured by both North and Lucy –she actually take a shine to the former nurse android and asks to stay with her for the night, until they have to go to the DPD to give their statements.
Markus finally lets out a relieved sigh once Hannah is calmed down and safe in the care of their very best –Connor chuckles as he sits beside his boyfriend in their hidden little rooftop alcove -it was originally Markus's, but it's theirs, now.
“Tired?” he asks, with the peculiar arch in his brow that says the question is very rhetorical.
The RK200 bumps shoulders with him. “Don’t sass me.”
“If you weren’t such a bleeding heart you wouldn’t be in these situations.”
Markus’s next words make Connor regret his joke: “If I wasn’t such a bleeding heart you wouldn’t have been able to save Hannah, and those four guys would have done rA9 knows what to her.”
The detective’s expression falls instantly –it’s true. And while Markus knows he can’t save everyone, he also can’t ignore what goes on before his very eyes; it’s just who he is. Time and time again, Connor finds himself humbled by the RK200’s sheer compassion.
But then Markus bumps his shoulder again and smiles at him: “…but you did. You protected her and made it so that I wouldn’t need to fight so I could stay with her.”
“Markus… I—” Connor was about to say that he didn’t do anything special, really, that Markus actually was right and that he did the right thing in insisting to check things out and save yet another life, but he doesn’t get the chance, because his boyfriend tugs him by the tie into a kiss.
“Sometimes I forget how strong and fast you are.” is whispered against Connor’s lips –frankly, he doesn’t see what that has to do with Markus kissing him, but he’s not complaining. Then Markus climbs onto his lap and hey, this is even better. “Sometimes I forget how much I like even just looking at you.”
Connor’s hands go to Markus’s waist, as he finally catches onto the ‘clues’ and a smirk stretches on his mouth. “I hope you’ll do more than just look.”
Markus leans forward and down, lips brushing against the detective’s neck. “How long until we have to go give our statement?”
The answer comes with a slight, stuttering lag, as Connor’s processors struggle to give attention to any task not involved in touching Markus right now, but he does answer: “Six hours and thirty-six minutes.”
“Send a message to Hank; tell him we’ll be at least one hour late.”
“An hour? Markus, we have more than enough time to—”
Markus looks back up at him, mismatched eyes shining and mischievous as he bites his lower lip and covers one of Connor’s hands with his own, opening their interfacing and sending his boyfriend all that he’s feeling right now, all the desire that Connor’s fierce side ignited into him, and all the things he plans to do to Connor, many of them involving his mouth and several places on Connor’s body.
Gulping in a motion he doesn’t need, Connor sends the message, relishing in the alluring little chuckle that Markus gives as he dives in for the kiss.
Connor’s last coherent thought before he loses himself into Markus is Hank can fucking wait for once.
He regrets absolutely nothing.