Work Text:
Gavin puts on his jacket and leaves the police station, a smug smile on his face. You imagine it must nice to know it’s not him staying for the night shift. What could his plans for the rest of the night be? Drinking in one of the nasty bars until he knocks himself unconscious?
You let out a sigh into your coffee, as if to drown it.
The station is almost empty now, safe for a few guards and two or three colleagues you’ve never spoken to. One of the guards decides to crack a joke – maybe he’s trying to hit on you? – but your mind is so numb you can’t even feel bad for not returning his smile. He gets the hint and withdraws, wishing you a good night.
Yeah, it’s gonna be a great night.
Sipping the coffee that’s cold and disgusting, you try to skim through your paperwork. Words blend together, you feel like someone chewed you up and then spat out. But you resist the urge to fuck it all; the bills have to be paid and you need to eat, unlike the androids, lucky bastards.
As you force yourself to get focused, someone puts a filled cup on your desk. Raising your gaze, you see Connor, who’s looking at you fixedly.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been drinking coffee all evening. But you don’t like coffee, so I brought tea for you. Green, no sugar. Brewed for three minutes in 80˚C.”
You stare at him with a dumbstruck expression. Despite speaking the same language, it feels like the words he just said are completely incomprehensible. Connor cocks his head to the side, as if to make sense of your reaction.
“Is something wrong?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.
“No, of course not.” You finally snap out of amazement. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t flinch, though, just standing there in front of you. When you eye him with interest, he clears his throat.
“Mind if I accompany you? You seem tired.”
Before you can answer, Connor pulls a chair next to you and sits down. When did he become so straightforward, you wonder. Then again, you haven’t had the chance to talk to him recently. Connor and Hank are busy with their investigation, while you’re stuck in this shithole of a police station, doing paperwork or talking to concerned neighbours who suspect the man next door is beating his wife.
“You should go home,” a curt smile twists your lips. “Lieutenant Anderson will skin me if he knows I kept his precious assistant overtime.”
“Oh,” Connor furrows his brows, the LED on his temple flickering yellow. “I wouldn’t want you to be skinned.”
You laugh quietly at his seriousness.
“I was just joking. As long as Anderson is okay with it, you can stay.”
Connor nods, and you return to reading the papers. It’s much harder to focus with him next to you, for he always seems to be analysing the surroundings. Has he analysed you? He already knows you hate coffee. Has he noticed the bags under your eyes or the fact that you lost three kilos during the past week?
The tea he brewed tastes delicious, just the right temperature. It’s exactly what you need now.
“Why didn’t you ask Captain Fowler for a day off today?”
Connor’s question is sudden and bold. You stop reading, but don’t dare to look in his direction.
“Why would I?”
“You’re clearly exhausted. The efficiency of your work has dropped by 17.5% since last Monday.”
You sigh of astonishment more than anything else. “Where do you get these numbers from, Connor?”
When his expression changes into a concerned one, you give up. It’s no use trying to explain it to him – he won’t understand, just like you wouldn’t understand his numbers and statistics. Even if it seems like there isn’t much difference between you and Connor, some things just can’t be overlooked.
But when he reaches out and grabs the papers from your hand—you can’t help feeling a shiver run down your spine.
“Go home, Detective L/N. I’ll finish this.”
“Just what are you thinking, hm, Connor? What are your thoughts about humans?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
He freezes for a second or two, his LED bright yellow yet again and his expression unreadable. He’s choosing the words just like a human would.
“I think humans are fascinating,” he says eventually. The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, you were expecting something along the lines of ‘my opinion doesn’t matter’. “You feel a variety of different emotions. Despite being able to use logic, you often make unreasonable decisions. You’re unpredictable. I find this very… interesting.”
A laugh escapes you lips. This sweet fool makes it sound romantic, but the reality is brutal; the reality is that everyone just tries their best not to drown in this world where you can only sink or swim. Nobody gives a fuck about being reasonable. They just try to minimise the suffering.
“There are many androids who want to become humans these days,” you comment dryly. “Are you one of them?”
“Well…”
Connor pauses in confusion, unsure how to answer. But you don’t need his answer, whatever it might be. The reality is still the same, after all.
You turn to face him, letting your eyes linger on the letters ‘RK800’ on his jacket. And just for a second, your gaze saddens.
“This is so fucked up…”
He stays silent as you stand up, the paperwork left behind on your desk. You’ve gotten soft, letting an android care for you, but in the end, it’s just like he said: humans are unpredictable.
Your last words only barely reach his ears:
“I pray that you never know what it feels like to be human.”