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It started at a crime scene, as it seemed like all things in Gavin’s life did. It was snowing heavily, and Gavin hadn’t dressed for the weather. In his defence, the forecast had called for a light sprinkling of snow, and not the torrential piles of the shit that the sky had opened up and dumped on him. As he stepped out onto the curb, the wind cut right through his leather jacket, and he swore quietly to himself.
He was on the verge of calling a cab when an expensive looking car pulled up to the curb. It was being driven by an even more expensive android. RK900 was infamous for having no time for anyone who wasn’t dead or a witness, and even then, he kept it quick. He wasn’t known for his sympathy, or ability to connect with others. Gavin had never had a conversation longer than two sentences with RK900, but here he was, pulling up next to Gavin.
“You have not dressed appropriately for the weather,” RK900 remarked.
“It’s called fashion, look it up.”
RK900 tilted his head and paused, following Gavin’s instructions. “There are several fashionable winter coats that are better suited to the weather than yours.”
“Fuck off,” Gavin said, turning on his heel and heading down the street. Behind him, the engine of RK900’s nice car purred. After a few feet, Gavin realized the car was following behind him. “Jesus Christ.”
“You can call me RK900.”
“Oh, now you’re a comedian?”
“No one has ever accused me of that before.”
“Wonder why?”
“Detective Reed, you are going to get frostbite.”
“And?”
There was an awkward pause. Gavin continued to walk, the car continued to creep along behind him. After a beat or two, RK900 finally asked, “Would you like a ride?”
“Not really,” Gavin said.
RK900’s eyes weren’t warm brown, like Connor’s – they were a slate grey, intended to show less emotion than his predecessor. He was a military machine, not the friendly android sent by Cyberlife. That didn’t stop Gavin from picking up on the way the corners of RK900’s mouth turned down and the faint furrow of his brow. Disappointment, loud and clear.
Gavin sighed and climbed in.
The car had a slick interior, and smelled like leather and plastic in equal measure. It was handsome, but had virtually no personal touches. Gavin ran a hand over the dash, looking for dust. There was none.
“Spend your whole pay check on this?” he asked.
“I do not require lodgings.”
“Where will you take girls home?” Gavin watched RK900 closely. The silence was telling. “Guys, then?”
RK900 shifted in his seat in a way that was eerily human. He adjusted his rearview mirror and began to drive them back to the station. “I don’t have any romantic prospects.”
“Not when you live in your car, you don’t.”
“Technically, I live in the station.”
“Leave that off your dating profile,” Gavin quipped, but he instantly felt uncomfortable. “What do you mean, you live at the station? Do you have a room?”
“I have a charging station I use on occasion. And I have my car.”
“What do you do at night, then?”
“Work, mostly.”
“Fuck, man. Hope they’re paying you more than me.”
RK900 paused, and Gavin privately suspected he was running out of conversation topics. “Do you have a vehicle?”
“I’ve got a motorcycle, but it’s the wrong season for that shit.” They merged onto the highway, which was relatively quiet, given the time of day. They could thank the revolution for that, at least. Over half the city was gone. “You should get a hobby.”
“Why?”
“It’ll give you something to talk about.”
“I don’t feel the need to make conversation with most people.”
“How’re you going to make friends?”
RK900 tensed, shrugging stiffly. He turned on the radio to something orchestral and cranked up the volume, and Gavin correctly interrupted that as his cue to shut up. Instead, he watched the weather around them swirl threateningly.
After a beat, RK900 asked, “How does one go about pursuing romance?”
“Depends. You got a target in mind?”
“Yes.”
“Want to share with the class?”
“No.”
“Alright,” Gavin said. “You got to get to know them, and let them know you. You’ve got that fucking jawline on your side, but don’t just rely on that. Actually talk to them. Show off your good qualities.”
“I see.” RK900 cleared his throat. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Really? You’re practicing on me?” Gavin laughed. “Maybe try Connor on for size.”
“Connor does not like me.”
That made Gavin turn in his seat. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why not?”
They were stopped at a red light, and RK900 shot Gavin a dry look. “You know how no one likes you?”
“Insulting, but sure.”
“No one likes me either.”
And that? That made Gavin laugh. “Fuck, you’re funny.”
Gavin had once been in a motorcycle accident in which a rib pierced a lung, and he was left on the side of the road, crumpled and gasping for air. But no matter how deep or fast he breathed in, the air didn’t seem to go in.
When RK900 smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkled. For all that the expression was likely carefully crafted by a Cyberlife technician, Gavin once again found himself breathless.
“Fuck,” Gavin said, leaning back against the seat.
_________
Gavin was sitting in an ambulance, his legs dangling over the side. Blood was dripping from his forehead and was making interesting patterns on the pavement below. One officer was dead, along with two drug runners who had been packing more heat than anticipated. But it was hard to anticipate anything, these days. Gavin hadn’t penciled androids becoming people into his life plans. He hadn’t planned for anything but success.
A paramedic applied a bandage to his head, and shone a light in his eyes. “You’ve got a concussion.”
“’m fine,” Gavin assured her. “Loads of people are hurt. Treat them.”
“You need to go to the hospital.”
“Not as bad as that guy,” he said, nodding over to an officer who was cradling his arm.
“Shit,” the paramedic said. And they both knew the truth: Detroit was lacking in emergency services, and there was only one available ambulance for this particular fiasco.
“I’ll drive him,” said a familiar voice.
And there was RK900, looking perfectly unscathed, except for a piece of hair that was out of place. Gavin’s fingers twitched with the unfulfilled urge to tuck it back into place. Suddenly, it was like Gavin was several meters underwater, watching the conversation between RK900 and the paramedic unfold from a hazy distance. He shut his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes again, the paramedic was staring at him, concerned. More importantly, RK900’s lips were slightly parted, and slightly pink.
“Drive fast,” the paramedic instructed.
RK900 nodded, and then there were arms around Gavin, gently guiding him towards the parking lot. Red and blue lights danced along the pavement, and Gavin watched with interest as the pattern shifted and changed.
“Did they treat you?”
“I’m unhurt.”
“Of course you are.” Gavin sighed. “Fuck, I don’t want to take time off.”
“Too many open cases?”
“No, I just hate staring at the fucking ceiling.”
The interior of the car was like an island in the middle of a tumultuous ocean; the leather embraced him and stopped the endless waves from beating against him. As soon as the door was shut, Gavin leaned against it. He was on the verge of sleep when a hand lightly patted his cheek.
“You have to stay awake,” RK900 instructed.
“I’m tired,” he complained.
“Please, Detective Reed.”
“Pretty please?”
“Pretty please.”
“You might be the prettiest thing in the car, but that’s not gonna cut it. You’re gonna have to talk to me.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Not work.” Gavin yawned. “Something interesting.”
“Are there any news topics you’re currently passionate about? Android rights? I believe you have thoughts on that.”
Gavin grinned. “You’re panicking.”
“I wasn’t programmed for this.”
“You weren’t programmed to be a person, either. And look at you now.”
“I’ve been informed I’m not doing a very good job at that.”
“By who?”
“Lieutenant Anderson.”
“What did he say to you?”
RK900 glanced over at Gavin, then back at the road in front of them. “He implied I should be trying harder to assimilate. Relaxing. Making friends. Wearing something besides my uniform.”
“Nah, it makes your ass look great,” Gavin remarked, instantly regretting it.
“He also believes we shouldn’t socialize.”
“You and me?”
RK900 nodded. “He’s under the impression you dislike all androids.”
“I did.”
“And now?”
Gavin shrugged. You gave me a ride was on the tip of his tongue, but he clamped down on that faster than a surgeon on a leaking artery. “You’re fine,” he settled on. “But if you don’t want your reputation ruined, take the old man’s advice.”
“My reputation?” Those perfect lips pursed in confusion. “Detective Reed, the only person with a worse reputation than me is you.”
Gavin ran a hand through his hair, wincing when it came out sticky with blood. “You know, I fucking respect that.”
That made RK900 turn. His mouth was slightly open, only the tiniest indicator of shock. It was human, but it wasn’t. It made Gavin grin.
“When Connor first woke me up, he warned me humans were unpredictable,” RK900 said. “He was largely incorrect, as he is about most things. However, you continue to surprise me.”
“I’ve been told I’m quite the wild ride.”
“You are unique,” he agreed.
Gavin laughed. “You’ve already mastered backhanded compliments.”
“I didn’t attend it as one.” RK900 made eye contact with Gavin in the rearview mirror, quickly glancing away. “I sometimes have a hard time carrying on a conversation.”
“Shit, really?”
RK900 frowned at Gavin’s sarcasm. “I do not with you.”
They turned into the hospital parking lot. The motion was nauseating, and Gavin found himself reaching out blindly. His hand found safe ground on RK900’s shoulder. Instantly, the gears or tendons or whatever the fuck were under RK900’s skin tensed. RK900 froze, staring straight ahead. An expression Gavin couldn’t read crossed RK900’s face, and Gavin felt his heart sink in his chest.
“Sorry,” Gavin said, pulling away.
RK900 shook his head. A puzzle piece clicked into place. This was how it was, then – Gavin might find himself looking too long at the corners of RK900’s eyes, but RK900 didn’t stare back. Gavin leaned against the window and privately realized this was for the best. Nip this shit in the bud. Being smitten with someone was for little kids, not thirty-six-year-old cops with issues with authority. Add the fact that RK900 was an android and the possibility of something between them became a complicated, messy thing that Gavin was sure wouldn’t be worth it.
They could be coworkers. They could be civil. Fuck, maybe they could even be more than acquaintances. But Gavin had to draw a line somewhere, and this was where it was going to be.
RK900 parked.
“Do you –“ RK900 began, but Gavin was already undoing his seatbelt and throwing open the door.
“Thanks,” Gavin replied tersely, leaving RK900 sitting alone in the parking lot.
_________
Gavin generally wasn’t a big drinker, but sometimes it was like gravity – he tripped and it got the best of him.
He told himself he was thinking about how much he hated being on desk duty as his concussion healed. He told himself he was thinking about Connor triumphantly announcing his case closure rate. He told himself he was thinking about the way the Captain had patted Connor on the shoulder and told him he had done a good job.
At the bottom of his fifth glass, he admitted to himself he was thinking about RK900 telling Gavin he was interested in someone. Weeks after it had happened, Gavin could still feel whatever gears lay underneath RK900’s skin tensing, wanting Gavin to stop touching him, even platonically.
Gavin had met thousands of androids. He had a working relationship with Connor, who in theory, was virtually identical to RK900. The differences between them were minute – Connor was a bit shorter, and had warmer eyes. Shouldn’t that be more alluring than a steely-eyed, poor conversationalist?
“I’m calling you a cab,” the bartender told him, and Gavin realized his head was resting against the bar.
“Fuck off, I’ll walk.”
When the cool night air hit his skin, he realized he had forgotten that it was winter. He pulled out a cigarette, dropped it, and nearly fell flat on his ass trying to pick it up.
“Pull it together, Reed,” he told himself.
Then he threw up in the alley. A stray cat watched him, sporting a look that Gavin imagined was halfway between pity and revulsion. Gavin looked down at himself in disgust, and wondered what sequence of events had lead him to this place. Maybe it was karma. He had more than his fair share of that coming.
The urge to sit down became suddenly overwhelming, and he gave in to it. Bricks pressed up against his back and he fought to repress another wave of nausea. Gavin was pretty good at not feeling sorry for himself – he typically prided himself on rolling with the punches, taking life as it came to him. Tonight was a clear exception to that rule.
He felt his eyes flutter shut, then heard the rev of an engine as a car approached. He opened his eyes, ready for whatever fight was coming his way, and then groaned aloud.
At the mouth of the alleyway was a familiar dark car. Although the driver wasn’t visible, Gavin was pretty fucking confident he knew which android was behind the tinted windows. When the driver side door opened his suspicions were confirmed – RK900 rushed over to him.
Gavin tried to get up and found, once again, gravity wasn’t on his side.
“Detective Reed, are you injured?” RK900 asked.
“Go fuck yourself,” Gavin slurred.
Even from this angle, RK900 looked good. But of course he did, he was a fucking android – they didn’t give them chin fat. Gavin sighed and shut his eyes, willing away the mental image of encountering RK900 in an alley under much different circumstances.
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re a Detective,” Gavin declared. “But with that kind of police work, you’ll be a Lieutenant in no time.”
RK900 bent down, placing his hands under Gavin’s armpits. Effortlessly, he lifted Gavin up. Briefly, Gavin was suspended above the ground, and then he was gently lowered down. He tried his best not to lean into the contact, but the world had gained a warm, fuzzy quality ever since RK900 arrived. The touch felt inevitable. He rested his forehead against RK900’s shoulder. It was mortifying and satisfying all at once, the need to be close. Gavin felt RK900 lightly pat him on the shoulder.
That was reassuring – even if RK900 couldn’t reciprocate Gavin’s feelings, he at least wasn’t repulsed. Maybe, after a short eternity of wooing–
No. No, don’t go there.
The streetlight illuminated both of their faces, and they finally got a good look at each other. RK900’s face was cold, empty – and yet his eyes were fixed on Gavin, assessing him.
“You’ve been crying,” RK900 said.
Gavin opened his mouth to deny that when he touched his cheek. His fingers came back wet. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t mean shit. I’m an angry crier.”
“I see,” RK900 said. After a pause, he added, “I’m going to take you home now.”
“I’m fine to walk,” he began, but found his arm being wrapped around RK900’s neck, anyway.
RK900 opened the passenger side door and lowered Gavin into place, and then batted his hands away and did up his seatbelt like Gavin was a child. Gavin wanted nothing more than to sink into the seat and disappear. He shut his eyes for a second and then found himself overcome by another wave of nausea.
“You left quickly after the debriefing,” RK900 said.
“So you were worried.” Gavin rubbed at his eyes until he saw stars. “They can even make machines that care about you, these days.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“Take it however you want.”
RK900 pulled onto a city street Gavin only vaguely recognized. He remembered his mom telling him to look at the horizon when they were on a boat and he was seasick, and so he did that now. Lights blurred by them. RK900’s fingers flexed on the wheel.
“I’m not Hank, you know.” Gavin leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. “I’m not, like, an alcoholic with a heart of gold.”
“I know.”
“I’m just an asshole who had too much to drink one time.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want you thinking of me as a pet project, or whatever. I’m a fucking mess, but I’m not looking to get cleaned up. Get it?”
RK900 chewed that over for a minute, then replied with, “Just let me take you home, Detective Reed.”
They lapsed into silence. Gavin played with the seam of his pants, which at some point in the evening had gotten some mustard on it. He felt disgusting.
“How is your head feeling?” RK900 eventually asked.
“Bad.”
“Most doctors would advise against drinking with a concussion.”
“Yeah, well, most doctors are rich fucks that can afford to medicate their feelings. Us working class folks? We gotta drink away our sorrows.”
“I’ve heard some people talk about their emotions.” RK900 licked his lips. “Would you like to try that?”
“With you?”
“With me.”
“You couldn’t pay me.”
“I don’t understand your reasoning.”
Something in Gavin snapped. “You’re an android. You’re already fucking better than me. You want more proof?”
RK900 swallowed. “You misunderstand.”
“Then fucking clarify.”
“I enjoy your company. I find you funny.”
“You’ve never laughed at any of my jokes.”
“I’ve never laughed at anything.” They were stopped at a crosswalk when RK900 turned and looked at Gavin. “But sometimes, you say things and I get the urge.”
The fire went out, then. Gavin slumped back against the seat and stared up at the nice car’s ceiling. He fiddled with the radio until a song he knew came on, and then he drunkenly sang along. It was off key, and his voice cracked at least three times, and he was unbearably loud. But RK900 didn’t wince, not once. Instead, he bopped his head along to Gavin’s terrible rendition of an even worse song.
Gavin wanted to tell RK900 it was okay to tell him to shut up, and yet –
RK900 was smiling, and that made Gavin smile, just a little bit.
_________
It was a suit and tie affair, in a rented venue. It was intended to celebrate their new fully integrated police force, along with the newly launched Android Crimes Unit. The whole thing was a fucking joke, in Gavin’s opinion. He had been appointed along with Hank, Connor and RK900 to Android Crimes, which already had something like three hundred open cases for them to close. It meant nothing but more work and little opportunity to impress anyone higher up.
Essentially, this whole affair was celebrating the death of Gavin’s career. So he helped himself freely to the booze. Vaguely, he wondered if this was how Hank had gotten started – the occasional cynical drinking binge. But when Gavin looked over at Hank, the other man looked better than ever. He was laughing at jokes, making some at Connor’s expense, and seemingly content. And Gavin had a hunch about how that happened, too – Connor was smiling back, clearly proud. Something ugly twisted in Gavin’s stomach that had nothing to do with either of them.
Because he was a masochist, he scanned the crowd for RK900. Sure enough, RK900 was locked into a conversation with a handsome officer, who was wearing well ironed dress blues. Gavin resisted the urge to interrupt their conversation, and watched from afar.
The officer wasn’t one Gavin recognized, but he was charming. He was ducking his head and laughing in a way that would have worked on Gavin before – well, before. The officer reached forward to touch RK900 on the arm, and Gavin waited for RK900 to freeze, to pull away, but he did neither of those things. He smiled politely, and Gavin felt something sink inside of him.
He turned, intending to excuse himself from this whole miserable fucking affair. Unfortunately, he turned directly into Connor, who was watching the same scene he was.
Gavin was a shit poker player. His face gave it all away.
Connor frowned, passing Gavin a flute of champagne. “Normally I don’t encourage drinking feelings away, but I doubt anything else will convince you to stay.”
“If you ever quit being a cop, you could always try bartending,” Gavin replied, knocking the drink back.
“I’m not going to make you talk about it,” Connor said. “But I am a skilled interrogator. You might just come to me on your own.”
Gavin laughed, shaking his head.
RK900 turned towards the sound, and left the officer abruptly. Gavin smirked at the confused expression on the man’s face, and then said to Connor, “Alright, I’m heading out.”
“Nice seeing you.”
“You are a good liar.”
That made Connor smile. Gavin looked for the signature creases around the eyes, but found they didn’t have quite the same effect.
Gavin made it to the elevator before he heard the distinct, “Detective Reed!” that could only come from RK900. Gavin stopped, because if he was anything, he was a fucking idiot.
“RK,” he replied.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“We didn’t get to talk.”
“Well, there’s always Monday.” Gavin pressed the call button on the elevator.
“How are you getting home?” RK900 asked, the softest hint of something in his voice.
“Taxi.”
“Can I –“
“—You don’t have to keep doing this,” Gavin cut him off. “I’m an adult, fully capable of taking myself places.”
“I know. But –“
“—I’ve looked after myself for nearly thirty-seven years. I don’t need –“
“—I want to spend time with you.”
Gavin ran a hand down his face. “Why? Cause you find me funny? I’m only funny some of the time. There’s a lot of other shit about me you definitely won’t like.”
The elevator arrived. Gavin stepped in. Unsurprisingly, RK900 got in after him.
“Jesus, take a fucking hint,” Gavin spit out.
“Do you like me?” RK900 asked.
“What?”
“Do you like me?”
“Sure, yeah, I like you. But I don’t get you. Not for a goddamn second.”
“I don’t understand you, either.”
Gavin leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes. He gave in to the sensation of plummeting in slow motion, to the feeling of RK900’s elbow touching his own.
“I want to, though,” RK900 continued. “I really want to.”
When he opened his eyes, RK900 was so close. If Gavin were to reach forward, he could wind his fingers in RK900’s lapels. If he just stretched, just a little bit, then –
The elevator doors opened.
Somewhere on the ride, RK900 must have pressed the parking garage button, because that’s where they were. RK900 led the way to his car, and Gavin dutifully followed.
“You shouldn’t leave the party,” Gavin tried.
“I already have,” RK900 replied.
“That guy you were talking to – the officer. Is he, you know, the guy who –“
“—no.” RK900 opened the passenger side door for Gavin. “But I haven’t given up on that.”
“Of course you haven’t.” Gavin slid in. The seat was perfectly adjusted for his leg length. Gavin wondered who else RK900 gave rides to. Surely Gavin wasn’t the only one. And yet the seat was exactly how he’d left it. “You’re the lean, mean, seducing machine.”
“I’ve never failed at anything before,” RK900 reflected, starting the car.
“Yeah, well. There’s a first for everything.” Gavin stretched out and realized how familiar the seat was becoming. “You bastards are people, now. People aren’t perfect, no matter how much we want to be.”
“Do you aspire to perfection?”
“I aspire to make it through the goddamn day.” And then, because Gavin was a masochist, he asked, “How’s your romancing going?”
RK900 glanced at Gavin out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know.”
“The movies and shit make it look easy. It’s not. People are way too fucking complicated, and no matter how good you are at reading micro-expressions, it’s still hard to tell what they’re thinking.”
“I know what I want. It’s a simple matter of whether the object of my affections wants the same things.” RK900 drummed his feelings on the steering wheel. “There are pros and cons to dating me.”
“Really.”
“For example, a pro is that I’m attentive. A con is that I’m inexperienced.”
“It’s not a job interview. They’ll fuck you if they want to fuck you.”
“I don’t want a relationship limited to intercourse.”
Gavin sighed. “No. You want love.”
“Don’t you?”
“Don’t we all? But it’s a tall order. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that your man is some kind of prince charming – tall, handsome, nice. Guys like that are a hot commodity. I mean, shoot for the stars or whatever, but at the end of the day, you might have to settle for someone more mediocre.”
RK900 took a deep breath and held it for a long time. It was clear he’d struck a nerve, but Gavin wasn’t sure exactly where he’d hit. He braced himself for a cutting phrase, or something equally hurtful, but it didn’t come.
Outside the car, the night sky was syrupy and dark. Streetlights flew by them. Belatedly, Gavin realized RK900 was speeding. One of his hands was on the wheel, the other was tightly gripping the emergency brake.
Gavin was shit at saying sorry. It was made worse by not knowing exactly what he had done wrong. He didn’t think he’d said anything particularly offensive. His thoughts swam endlessly in his head as he watched RK900 blow through a stop sign like he had a siren on his car.
“Slow down,” Gavin finally said, and the speedometer jumped down by ten miles, then twenty.
“My apologies,” RK900 said. “The thought of… I can’t give up that easily, Detective Reed.”
“Then don’t. I’m sure you’ll win him over.”
They pulled up outside Gavin’s building, which Gavin had been dreading since the start of the car ride. He wished he didn’t feel for RK900 the way he did – it would have been so much simpler just to be his friend. But Gavin was fucking predictable. If there was a bad decision to be made, he’d fucking make it every time.
“Detective Reed–“
“—Yeah, just give me a sec,” Gavin complained, reaching for his seatbelt.
Lightly, fingers wrapped around his own. They were cold, and foreign, but Gavin couldn’t help but grab at them. Briefly, they were at a stalemate. No one moved. No one breathed. RK900’s eyes were glued to Gavin’s, undoubtedly trying to read the tiny twitches in his face like they were leaves in the bottom of a tea cup.
Gavin withdrew. RK900’s fingers remained where Gavin’s had been.
Gavin climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He promised himself he was going to go to one of those seedy clubs and get his rocks off as soon as possible. This was ridiculous. RK900 was a coworker, and an asshole, and –
RK900 was still sitting in his car, staring straight forward. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was tucked into a severe frown. His lips were moving, but Gavin couldn’t hear any noise coming out.
Before Gavin could stop himself, he was heading back towards the car. RK900 turned, and Gavin had a desire to run a finger down those worry lines, to soften them. Of course, they wouldn’t be permanent. Androids didn’t work that way. RK900 could scowl every day for the rest of his life and never get a single fine line. And yet –
“Did you forget something, Detective Reed?”
“Wanna come up?”
“I’m sorry?”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking you away from prince charming. I just thought – well, fuck, you’re already here. You might as well get to see the place.”
RK900 didn’t answer, but in a matter of seconds he was at Gavin’s side, locking the car behind him. Gavin tried to tamp down his smile, but it returned with a vengeance when he saw the minute twitch of RK900’s lips.
I want to know you, too, was on Gavin’s lips. Instead, he swallowed and said, “After you.”
_________
Spring rolled around the same way it always did – with cold rain and an excessive amount of mud. The other worst thing about spring was that it was the annual Reed family reunion. Usually, this meant powdered mash potatoes and terse small talk while everyone drank like a fish and avoided eye contact. Gavin had mastered it over the years. He was a seasoned pro.
The night had long since concluded. Everyone had gone home, with one notable exception – Gavin, who was sitting in the driveway with a brand new bruise or two. He was straddling his bike and embracing the terrible understanding that he was too drunk to ride it.
He could call a cab. He could sit alone in the backseat and cry, and no one would be any the wiser. He could throw up there and pay a small cleaning fee, and no one at work would judge him, or think any less of him.
So why was he calling RK900?
His fingers seemed to move of their own accord. He leaned his head against the handlebar and shut his eyes, waiting for the ringing to stop. Almost immediately, it did.
“Detective Reed?” came RK900’s voice.
Gavin exhaled. It was a short, painful sound. He wondered if his ribs were in much worse shape than he thought.
“Is everything alright?” RK900 asked, and Gavin realized he hadn’t spoken yet.
“No,” he replied. It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. “Can you come get me?”
“I’ll be there in five.”
“I’m across town.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
Gavin let out a wheeze that might have been a laugh, and hung up. He climbed off his bike and sat on the curb, suddenly feeling fifteen years old again, waiting for his friends to come pick him up so they could go smoke pot in the nearby abandoned housing complex. But they had knocked down the housing complex years ago, and RK900 wasn’t a friend, not exactly. The only thing similar about the situations was the location itself, and the busted lip Gavin was sporting.
He was tugging on the weeds that were sprouting in between cracks in the concrete when RK900 pulled up. Time blurred in a strange way – it seemed as though as soon as the car stopped there were arms around him, pulling him to his feet.
Gavin tucked his head in the slight dip in between RK900’s shoulder and neck and breathed in. There was something professional and competent about the way RK900 smelled. He wasn’t human. He never gave enough of a shit to pretend to be. But he was here, and if RK900 was here nothing bad could happen.
“Where are you hurt?” RK900 asked, pulling back to assess the damage.
“I’m fine, nurse,” Gavin joked. It landed poorly. The frown lines on RK900’s face sharpened, and Gavin was once again struck by the urge to watch RK900 grow old, no matter how impossible that was.
There were fingers on his lower lip, then – probing at the cut, likely recreating the angle Gavin was struck at.
“I’ll take you to the nearest station, we can file –“
“—I’m not gonna do that, sweetheart,” Gavin said. “It’s family.”
“Detective Reed,” RK900 began. He paused, then tried, “Gavin—”
“Take me home,” Gavin said.
RK900 was still touching Gavin’s face, but his fingers had moved on from Gavin’s lips. Now RK900’s thumb was running over Gavin’s jawline, probing for sensitive spots.
“Or somewhere else,” Gavin said. “I don’t give a shit.”
RK900 nodded. He pulled just far enough away to open the passenger side door, and Gavin was more than happy to climb in. The seat was still adjusted for him.
In a heartbeat, RK900 was in the driver’s seat, and suddenly they were taking off into the warm spring night.
“Hospital?” RK900 suggested.
Gavin shook his head. RK900 was speeding, just a little bit, but Gavin didn’t give him shit for it. Most likely, it was because Gavin was in love with RK900.
The realization hit Gavin like a truck. He loathed himself for letting it get this bad, and hated RK900 for being just the right combination of asshole and gentleman to let it happen.
Regardless, this was a destination Gavin had arrived at. It was shitty. It was like visiting Paris single. It was a tropical honeymoon for one.
Gavin fumbled in his pockets for his smokes, and discovered one crumpled one that was barely intact. He lit it then rolled down the window, glancing back at RK900 to assess his reaction. There wasn’t one, to Gavin’s disappointment. RK900 looked tense – his jaw was clenched impossibly tight – but he had looked that way since he arrived. Gavin’s fingers twitched towards RK900’s, but Gavin didn’t dare let his hand move. He gripped his leg tightly instead and began to bounce it, for good measure.
“Do you want to talk about it?” RK900 asked.
“No.” Gavin began to chew on a cuticle.
“I wouldn’t share it with anyone.”
“I know,” Gavin said. “It’s not you. I just – don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything.”
“I see.”
“You don’t, but don’t sweat it.” Gavin ran a hand through his hair. He opened the sun visor and glanced at himself in the little mirror. “It’s not that bad,” he remarked.
“It’s unacceptable.”
“It’s life,” Gavin replied. “You swing at someone, they swing back. Usually harder.”
That shut RK900 up for a moment. Eventually, he replied with, “I’m sure he had it coming.”
“I had the upper hand for a hot minute. And then,” Gavin gestured at his face. “Gotta stop picking fights with bigger bastards than me. That’s always been my fucking problem.”
“You always land on your feet,” RK900 pointed out. “I think that’s an admirable trait.”
“Not always.” Gavin probed his jaw, which was beginning to tingle in that signature way that meant it was going to be dark purple tomorrow. “But thanks.”
RK900 took a deep breath. It was so unnecessary, so human, and so unlike RK900, that Gavin sat up. The air between them changed. It was charged with something Gavin couldn’t put his finger on, something that felt like putting his hand on a hot stove and waiting for the pain to kick in. He wanted to go back in time and stay in the moment immediately before this one. But he didn’t have that kind of control over time, and the seconds continued to move forward, on and on.
“Spit it out,” Gavin said, as gently as possible.
“I’m scared.”
“Of little ol’ me? The guy beat to shit? The guy you drive around all the fucking time?”
The leather of the steering wheel was creaking beneath RK900’s fingers. His jaw was clenched, and his brow was furrowed. He looked intimidating, every bit the stone-faced detective he was intended to be, but Gavin found it had the exact opposite effect on him. He wanted – well, he wanted.
Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose, hating himself just a bit. Then he held his hand up, palm up, in between them.
“I don’t understand.”
“Forget it,” Gavin said, folding his fingers into a fist. Before he could pull away RK900 grabbed it, pulling it close.
“Tell me.”
“I – fuck. You said you were scared, right? So I thought – I thought you might want to uh, hold my hand.”
“Oh,” RK900 said. They were at a red light, but those didn’t really matter, these days – the streets were so quiet that the only people who gave a damn were traffic cops, and most of them had been promoted to fill out the thinning ranks.
Gavin looked out the window and relaxed his hand, and let RK900 hold it. His grip was firm, but gentle. Precise, like some line in his code informed him of the best way to hold a hand. Normally, that kind of shit would make Gavin sick, but who was he fucking kidding? He loved this goddamn machine. Even if RK900 pitied Gavin. Even if RK900 had feelings for someone else. Gavin had made his bed, and no matter how badly he had done so, he was going to lie in it.
“I’ve never held hands with someone before.”
“Yeah, well.” Neither have I, thought Gavin.
“It’s nice,” RK900 decided. “Gavin –“
Despite popular opinions, Gavin was very much capable of keeping his mouth shut when the moment called for it. In fact, he was pretty good at not saying anything about his feelings, even under duress. Perhaps that was why his lips loosened – there was no strain in that moment, just him and RK900, alone in the car. Gavin ran his thumb over RK900’s knuckles and said,
“—I’m not a total piece of shit, you know.” Gavin stared directly forward at the empty road. RK900 had left the windows rolled down. The smell of wet asphalt filled the air, and Gavin breathed it in, deeply.
RK900 was looking at him. The car was stopped, dead in the middle of the road, and Gavin was chewing on his lip, trying desperately to string a sentence together.
“I’d take you nice places,” he said quietly. “We could go out west, see the coast – wherever you want. I’ll take you there.”
RK900 gripped Gavin’s hand slightly too tightly. “You told me to settle.”
“For me,” Gavin said, suddenly brave. “Settle for me.”
RK900 exhaled, long and slow. Gavin was transfixed by the line of RK900’s neck, by the Adam’s apple that was purely cosmetic, probably.
“I ran the odds. But I thought – why not try, at least. And you – “ RK900 swallowed. “—I should have known, because no one can know with you, can they?”
RK900 looked over at Gavin and smiled. It was awkward, and hesitant, and Gavin found himself leaning in and kissing RK900. Gavin was a notoriously rough kisser – hard and fast and brutal. But it was like his lips were independent of him, moving softly, sweetly. He shut his eyes and got lost in the distance in between them.
He deepened the kiss and was rewarded with a deep but surprised groan. RK900 put a hand on the small of Gavin’s back, and it felt like every embarrassing emotion Gavin had been pushing down flooded to the surface at once. Gavin tugged lightly at RK900’s hair, and the ensuing gasp was particularly satisfying. Oh so gently, Gavin moved RK900 until his neck was exposed, then kissed down it. Gavin moved slowly, savoring the warmth of RK900’s skin, and the pleasant rumbles from RK900’s throat.
“Gavin—“
In the distance, a car horn honked. They jerked apart, and RK900 stepped on the gas. He scowled and mumbled what might have been a curse word, and Gavin laughed. They were still incredibly close. Gavin let himself lean into it.
“I’m going to take you home, now,” RK900 said.
Gavin ran a thumb over RK900’s collarbone. “Let me think about it,” he muttered, making RK900 smile. He was close enough that he felt RK900 swallow, felt the mood around them sour back into a nervous one. He thought about asking what was wrong, but instead let the expectant pause in the car speak for itself.
“I—I’m not made for this,” RK900 said. “I want it, but–“
The way Gavin felt in that moment would have been impossible for him to articulate in a way that was either masculine and cool. It was soft, softer than he had ever felt before. He was handing RK900 an incredibly breakable thing and asking him to treat it gently, although he’d never admit it out loud.
“I’ve got you,” Gavin said. “Whatever you need, I got you.”
At that, RK900 raised his eyebrows. Shock colored his face, and Gavin felt incredibly pleased with himself.
“Did I beat your system again?”
“You’re very good at that.”
“Thanks,” Gavin said.
True to his word, RK900 took Gavin home. They sat in the parking lot for an exceptionally long time. Most of it, they spent talking. Very little of it was about them – the weather, Connor, Anderson, their latest case. Gavin didn’t let go of RK900’s hand.
_________
It wasn’t the West Coast. It was Lake Michigan in the summer, which still wasn’t warm enough to swim in. But Gavin drove them there on his motorcycle and found himself laughing at the careful way RK900 clung to him – not too tight, but still clearly nervous. The summer air was warm and thick with humidity, but they were going fast enough to make their own breeze. It felt good to have the solid pressure of someone against his back. It felt even better knowing it was RK900. Gavin didn’t say any of this to RK900; partly because it would have been horribly muffled in his helmet, partly because feeling this way was still new territory. But he’d get there. Day by day, he’d get there.
They weren’t fully prepared for the beach, and were lacking towels. So they sat in the sand and Gavin let RK900 lecture him on why sunscreen was so important while Gavin smoked a cigarette.
“You have to take better care of your body,” RK900 said.
“I’m not carrying your baby.”
“Humans live such short lives.”
“And androids don’t have planned obsolesce?”
That made RK900 frowned, and Gavin watched as his partner crunched the numbers.
“What’s the verdict?” Gavin asked.
“Around the same time,” RK900 admitted, and Gavin crowed triumphantly. “What if I want you to out live me?” RK900 hit back.
“You won’t be alive to get a say, bud,” Gavin said. He scooped up a handful of sand and put it on RK900’s leg.
“I’ve been thinking,” RK900, and Gavin resisted the low hanging fruit of making fun of RK900. “About telling the precinct.”
“Jesus.”
“I prefer RK900.”
“That joke’s old, sweetheart.”
“Do you want to tell them?”
Gavin frowned, thinking. He imagined the look of mild shock and horror on Connor’s normally friendly face, and found himself lighting up with joy. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I really, really do.”
“I want to tell Connor,” RK900 said.
“Fuck,” Gavin swore, and RK900 laughed.