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Most of the time, Gavin doesn’t mind the cold at all. Born and raised in Detroit, he’s a lake effect kid with rain and snow in his bones. It fits his disposition, his outlook on life, his attitude, and really just him as a whole.
Most days, the cold just fits, but today isn’t one of those days. It’s fucking freezing, the wind and the snow giving him a chill that slides right into the core of him. He curses Fowler for this ridiculous assignment that’s sent him 45 minutes outside of anywhere even remotely familiar in the state into some shitty snowed-in mountain town with no one but his plastic prick of a partner to keep him company. He shoots a glance to the 6 foot whatever of plastic standing next to him and scowls at how unfazed RK900 looks. Hands behind his back, chin tilted slightly upwards, LED a steady blue shine at his temple, the android doesn’t look the least bit affected by the biting cold around them, even as snow dampens his crisp white jacket and his perfectly in-place hair. Gavin huffs and pulls his leather jacket tighter, shifting from foot to foot and feeling like an idiot for having acted far too tough to go and buy a hat or scarf.
“We really have to go up this fuckin’ thing?” he asks, eyeing the path of the gondola up the mountain.
“That is correct,” his partner responds, voice level and clear, “our intel suggests that the base of operations for our suspect is located somewhere near the summit of the mountain, and this is the only way to reach our location.”
This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. It’s 2040 and humans are still using contraptions like this to get around? You can buy an android to floss your teeth and shine your shoes but you still have to climb into a frozen box and let some cables drag you up the side of a mountain.
“Fowler’s gonna hear about this when we get back,” he mumbles gruffly as he starts to head towards the entrance, RK900 falling into step beside him without hesitation.
“I would advise against that, seeing how your file already has more than the average number of letters and warnings in it,” his partner responds.
Gavin practically fumes, ready to turn on the plastic detective and tell him to keep his damn mouth shut, but before he can get a word in edgewise, he notices the slight upward quirk of the corner of Nines’ mouth, and he realizes he’s being fucked with.
“Fuck off,” he responds thinly, having to fight to keep the frown on his face and the smile off.
He’s been partnered with RK900, Nines as everyone at the precinct has started calling him, for almost a year now and although Gavin would never admit it aloud, he hasn’t been half as much of a living hell as he had expected it to be. What he had got wrong about Nines was that the android wasn’t just an upgraded copy of Connor. No more of that suck-up puppy dog attitude trying to get everyone to like him. Nines doesn’t try to integrate, he doesn’t brown nose his partner, and he sure as hell doesn’t make him coffee just because Reed yells at him to. And Gavin has tried. Nines is actually kind of an asshole sometimes, fucking with Gavin and making fun of him in the most subtle ways. Ways that Tina says are just his imagination. Yeah right, why the hell would he be imagining his android ribbing on him.
The carriage of the gondola shakes as it enters the station, creaking as it’s frozen doors slide open, and Gavin winces at the sight. The seats look hard as a rock, and the windows are covered in a sheen of ice and snow.
“After you, detective,” Nines says, and Gavin just gives him a look before climbing into the cabin.
The android follows shortly after, the doors swinging shut behind him as they both settle across from each other onto the frozen seats of the cabin. Gavin folds his hands over his chest, more for warmth than for anything, and stares out at what little he can see through the ice-slick windows. He shifts a bit, but no matter how he moves, he can’t get comfortable, snow slowly melting into his skin and clothes.
They sit in silence, Gavin just looking out the window and occasionally glancing over at his partner. Nines sits pin straight and stares straight out in front of him, gray eyes unfocused like he’s doing something in that supercomputer brain of his. It would be sure fucking nice to be able to file reports and do case research without lifting a finger. He’s not jealous of a robot. Nines can just be so much more efficient, and plus he doesn’t have to worry about fucking up at work. Or ever looking unprofessional. Or his stupid perfect hair being out of place.
Nines’ eyes seem to refocus and turn towards Gavin with interest only for Reed to be caught staring. Embarrassment licks at his ears but he just frowns and lashes out defensively.
“The fuck are you looking at, tin can?” he asks, trying to sound biting instead of caught.
Nines opens his mouth to respond, but closes it promptly and turns to look out the window with intensity about a half a second before their cabin lurches to a stop. Gavin feels his heart stop for a moment before it starts to race slightly with an unsure nervousness. He pulls out his phone only to be greeted with no signal this high up in the mountains.
“Is this normal? What the fuck is going on?” he asks, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.
“We appear to be stopped prematurely. If this was a routine stop of the lift, the stop would have been gradual and not sudden,” Nines responds, voice cool and analytical as always.
“What, so it’s broken?” Gavin asks, swallowing down the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, seeping into his bones just like the cold.
“That is a possibility,” the android explains, eyes unfocused for just a moment before he adds, “I put in a request for assistance, but communication lines are not the most robust in this area, so it might not have been received.”
“Great, so what do we do now?” Gavin questions, trying to fight back the panic that crawls up his throat at the idea of being trapped.
Nines pauses for a moment, seeming to cycle through the endless possibilities in his mind. He’s so unlike his predecessor. Where Connor tilts his head, creases his brows, fiddles with that god forsaken coin, Nines sits perfectly still, no human-like indications of thinking. Connor was built to simulate humans, and that’s something that always irked Gavin: that Connor was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Nines wasn’t built to emulate human intricacies. He’s straight and to the point, not hiding who he is behind a layer of something he’s not. Maybe that’s why Gavin didn’t mind him so much. Because Nines is so unlike himself who hides nearly everything he is behind a wall of rough anger.
“We could review details of our current case while I continue to broadcast a distress signal,” Nines offers, and Gavin doesn’t even have time to agree to that course of action before the android is launching into an explanation of their case.
Gavin knows almost all of what Nines tells him, but he’s been in the business long enough to know the benefits of going over things more than once. His cat should honestly have a medal of honor for how many cases she’s helped him solve just by playing with his sock as he talked through the case to her. Nines outlines what they know, what they don’t know, and what they can guess on, but the more he talks, the harder it is for Gavin to concentrate. It’s hard to focus on anything other than how fucking cold he is. Wind keeps winding its way through the seams in the cabin, reminding him sharply of the dampness of his clothes and skin. He breathes hot air into his gloved hands and rubs them together, but the heat seems to be gone as soon as it reaches him. He wiggles his toes in his boots, but they feel numb and like nothing more than bones in his socks.
It takes him a moment to notice his partner has stopped talking, and when he looks over at the android it’s to see Nines looking at him intensely, his LED casting a yellow-orange glow into the cabin.
“You’re cold,” Nines says simply, “your body temperature is approximately 1.7 degrees colder than average.”
“Yeah, no shit robo-Sherlock. It’s fucking cold in here,” Gavin bites back, fighting to supress a chill that threatens to slide down his spine.
It’s quiet for a moment between them, Nines inhumanly silent as Gavin continues to rub his hands together, hoping to maintain some semblance of feeling in his fingertips. He’s too busy cursing Fowler, some nonexistent God, himself, his parents, anyone who he can think of to notice Nines moving again, shifting with the rustling of fabric, until something’s being handed to him. His brain must be moving slowly due to the cold because it takes him far too long to realize what exactly he’s being offered.
“It’s advisable that you wear this, detective,” Nines says simply, LED remaining yellow as he waits for Gavin to accept the white cyberlife jacket he’s offering him, “your body temperature continues to drop, and since we don’t know how long we will be here, it’s best that you maintain as much body heat as possible.”
Gavin might be a dick who hates to admit he needs help, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a sense of self-preservation. He knows when to swallow his pride and take his partner’s jacket if the alternative might be hypothermia. He takes it with a mumbled threat not to send pictures to anyone back at the precinct, and slides it over his shoulders without hesitation. There’s a certain warmth to the fabric, almost if it had come off the body of a human being and not someone who’s made almost entirely of plastic. Gavin slips his arms into the jacket, not wasting time pulling it up tight around him. He fights the urge to lean in and smell it, but he’s only human and his willpower is only so strong. He leans into the collar and inhales through his nose, disguising it as just an intake of breath, and hates the smell that comes to him. It smells neat and clean, crisp like fresh laundry, with just a hint of coffee that Gavin knows must come from being in his presence all day. It smells like Nines. And Gavin hates how comforting that feels.
He gives a glance to his partner only to find himself being watched, and he frowns even as he gives a clipped thanks to the android. Gavin isn’t used to seeing Nines without his jacket, with just his black button down, and he would be lying if he said his partner didn’t look damn good like that. He wishes he could blame the cold for his thoughts, but he knows that isn’t the truth. Even on the days when he’s in the clearest state of mind, he finds himself staring at his partner like some sort of lovestruck fool. He hates it. It makes him feel weak. Nines makes him feel weak.
“Any word yet?” Gavin asks, throat feeling a bit rough from the cold air down his windpipe.
“My signals are successfully going through, but I have yet to receive any sort of transmission in response,” Nines says solemnly, and Gavin sighs.
He wonders how long a human can last in these conditions. It’s gotta be in the single digits out, especially with the chill of the wind through the cabin. How long would it take for hypothermia to set in? It’s never really been a concern, but now he can’t stop himself from thinking about all the ways he’s vulnerable. He really should have dressed warmer. His hair and parts of his clothing are damp from the snow. The wind whistling through the cabin is bringing his body temperature down even more. And didn’t he read something once about antidepressants making you more susceptible to hypothermia? Just his fucking luck.
“Your stress levels are rising,” his partner observes, matter-of-fact like Gavin doesn’t fucking know that he’s stressed.
Gavin doesn’t respond, just clings tighter to the jacket around his shoulders, pulling it in tighter as if to fight off the nerves and the stress just as well as the cold. How long have they been out here? 15 minutes? An hour? He feels like his sense of time is off, making him slightly disoriented and unable to get his bearings, whether from the near-panic or the cold, he doesn’t know. His heart is racing and his hands are shaking when Nines gets up and takes a seat next to him, making the Gondola sway slightly with the movement. Again, he stays quiet, shivering slightly all the way down to his bones. Then, he feels a weight around his shoulders, Nines’ arm around him as he pulls the freezing human closer.
“I’m aware that you do not like being close to me, but this is the best course of action to keep your body temperature up,” Nines explains, voice somehow seeming even more stiff and robotic, more distant than usual.
“I don’t hate being close to you, but just…” he trails off, knowing he would be feeling warm with embarrassment if he had any warmth left in his body, “just don’t make it a habit, yeah?”
He can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, from slumping slightly against the android’s frame. It’s comforting and surprisingly warm. Gavin wonders if Nines is always this warm or if the android frame just feels warm to him due to how cold he feels. He breathes in the smell of his partner, too stressed and worried and fucking freezing to be self-conscious about it. Nines smells crisp and put together, just like his jacket did. He smells so good it makes something in Gavin’s chest ache with want. He presses slightly closer, chasing the comfort and warmth, and is surprised when Nines is openly receptive to the push. Almost in sync, Nines pulls Gavin in closer right as he turns to be able to rest a hand on the android’s chest, head resting just over Nines’ collarbone. With only a second of hesitation, Nines wraps his free arm around Gavin too, holding him close and giving him that extra warmth that his body needs. He shuts his eyes just to focus on the touch. It kinda sucks that it takes a dangerous situation and a medical necessity for Gavin to get even a taste of the comfort and the touch he craves. The comfort and the touch that he needs.
“I-if pictures of thiss get out… I’ll s-sell you for scrap metal,” Gavin threatens, sounding weak even to his own ears.
“If pictures of this get out, I’ll have to change my name and transfer to another department,” Nines deadpans back, and Gavin finds himself smiling to himself at the way Nines isn’t afraid to give back as good as he gets.
There’s a moment where they just sit in a cold quiet silence, but then Gavin feels fingers through his hair. They’re surprisingly soft and feel almost heated, above the level of a normal human’s skin temperature. He wants to snap and insult, but the warmth mixed with the feeling of fingers petting him feels so good that it smothers the argument in his throat. It’s nearly impossible not to relax further into the soft touch, but he does manage to suppress the sigh that threatens to escape from his lips.
“A-any response yet?” he asks desperately, voice shaking as he hopes for any sort of good news.
Nines doesn’t respond right away, and when Gavin looks up at him, he sees the light of his LED flickering. From yellow to red to off, back on again and cycling through the colors. It’s off putting and makes fear dance in his chest. He’s never seen his partner’s LED glitch like that. Never seen his eyes look so unfocused.
“I seem to be unable to receive incoming signals, but I will continue to broadcast outgoing ones,” Nines answers stiffly, words a bit slower than normal, and when Gavin looks up at him with wild confused eyes, the android adds, “my biocomponents are not built for prolonged exposure to this level of cold. They are not functioning at full capacity.”
Gavin pushes slightly out of his embrace at that, just enough to clearly look up at his partner. At those gray distant eyes, and that unsteady beam of light.
“Then why the f-fuck did you… give me your j-jacket?” he demands, heart attempting to race despite the cold, “and why the... hell are you s-so warm, tin can?”
“Because you remaining warm is imperative to your well-being,” Nines explains calmly, voice sounding flatter than normal, as if it makes total obvious sense, “I’m expendable, detective. You are not.”
That hits Gavin like a bullet in the chest. Nines is in just as much danger from the cold as he is, and instead of going off self-preservation, he’s been putting himself in more and more danger just to keep Gavin warm. Even wasting energy heating his artificial skin up just to provide the worthless obsolete human that he is with additional heat. It makes his stomach twist. He’s read some of Connor and Anderson’s reports on their missions. Read how Connor was able to race his way across a highway, jump onto a speeding train, chase deviants over rooftops, fight his way out of nearly every situation. Nines is the more advanced version of Connor, and Gavin realizes with a start that the android was probably able to get himself out of their predicament from the get-go. Probably could have forced the cabin doors open, and climbed on top of the cabin to race across the wires to safety. The only reason he didn’t was because he would have had to leave Gavin behind.
“You’re a f-f-fucking idiot, you k-know that?” Gavin accuses, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed with frustration and anger, knowing that his partner is probably too affected by the cold by now to go and save himself.
Nines’ LED cycles red, and Gavin doesn’t know if it’s because of his words or because of the cold. He doesn’t know which is worse.
“Why am I a fucking idiot, detective?” Nines asks, and Gavin winces at the slight static he hears mingled with the android’s vocal processors.
“B-because you’re not... expendable, Nines,” Gavin grits out, not missing the surprise glinting in his partners eyes at the use of the man’s name, “and if you die protecting... me, I’ll never f-fucking forgive you.”
Nines just looks at him, something akin to confusion on his face. Gavin knows he’s trying to process his words, but it just makes him sad and angry. Why is it so hard to process that he doesn’t want his partner to die for him? Why is it so hard to reconcile the fact that he cares? Except Gavin knows the answer to those questions. He’s a piece of shit who has never been quiet in his distaste for androids. He doesn’t let anyone close, and pushes away the people who try. He’s a mess of insecurity who lashes out as cutting as he can when he feels vulnerable. It’s no wonder Nines is surprised Gavin’s capable of empathy and caring.
But that’s just the thing. Gavin’s capable of feeling, just like the androids who walk among them. And what he feels for Nines is strong and vivid. It’s something he spent a long time denying, and even longer coming to terms with. For all his hate speech and anger, he really genuinely cares about Nines. Wants to be with him in a way that makes him feel weak and pathetic. A way that makes him feel out of control and dizzy sometimes. Because Nines looks at him like he’s important, something worth protecting, and it makes Gavin’s stomach feel sick because he doesn’t deserve that kind of look or that kind of care and protection.
Gavin feels his hands move of their own accord, and he can’t stop them from framing Nines’ face, fingers shaking and numb. This is a terrible idea, this is fucking stupid and ridiculous, but he needs this. He doesn’t know if androids care about final chances and last words and actions, but he knows that he does. So he leans in and presses his lips firmly against Nines’ without preamble and with only slight hesitation. Nines’ lips are warm and soft, surprisingly so, and Gavin can’t help but melt when he feels himself being kissed back. At first, it’s that warm soft skin, but soon it fades away to hard plastic under his lips. He doesn’t know if the deactivation of Nines’ skin is a conscious action or not, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing harder and more insistently. A year ago, kissing an android without their skin would probably have sounded disgusting and ridiculous to the android-hating detective. But now, it feels kinda perfect.
He pulls away with a shaky breath, the yellow glow at his partner’s temple shining over their faces as Nines just stares at him. Gavin has to squeeze his eyes shut to handle the fact that he may or may not have just fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to him. The fact that, regardless of his fuckup or lack thereof, he still might lose this.
“Y-you can’t die on me you... plastic asshole,” he mumbles, forehead pressed against Nines’, “you c-can’t.”
Nines is quiet for a moment, and when Gavin finally opens his eyes again, it’s to find his partner watching him. His expression is neutral, robotic, and Gavin might be hallucinating, but he swears he can see emotion on those features. Nines opens his mouth to speak, but startles both of them when nothing comes out but a small wave of static. It’s terrifying and makes Gavin feel helpless, but then Nines is pulling him close again, wrapping both hands around his partner and holding onto him. Gavin reciprocates the action, clinging tight to Nines with a clawing fear in his heart that isn’t alleviated even when the android presses a kiss into his hair.
Gavin doesn’t know for how long they stay wrapped up like that in silence. It could be mere minutes, or it could be two hours. His sense of time is lost to him, and he feels dizzy and disoriented. Eventually though, they hear commotion and voices, mechanical whirring and clicking all from somewhere below them.
“H-hey!” he calls out, as loud as he possibly can, unknowing if his voice even carries across the small cabin, “we’re in h-here!”
Nines stays still, but when Gavin looks up at him, he can still see awareness in his partner's eyes, and his LED is still glowing, even if the light flickers now and then. He can’t help but lean up to press their lips together again, feeling that deactivation of skin under his touch immediately this time. Nines’ movement feels sluggish, almost glitchy, and Gavin has never felt so terrified in his life.
It doesn’t take long for the rescue team to pry open the doors of the cabin, letting in a rush of cold air that Gavin barely feels at this point. The team pulls Gavin out first, despite his protests that he won’t leave Nines, that Nines is more important. Eventually they both get brought to ground level, weighted blankets getting thrown on their shoulders as they’re ushered towards rescue vehicles. Separate vehicles, Gavin realizes with a panicked start. It makes sense logically, Nines needs to be transported for an android repair facility, and Gavin likely needs to be brought to a hospital. But still, the idea of being separated feels colder in Gavin’s chest than the snow and the blow of the wind ever could. He pulls away from the hands guiding him and moves on shaky feet over to where his partner is being carried by technicians. It’s terrifying to think of the fact that Nines apparently can’t even get his mobile units to function.
Gavin places his frozen, unsteady hand on the shoulder of one of the technicians to stop them, and Nines looks up at him intensely.
“Y-you’re not allowed to d-d-die on me, th-that’s an order, tin can,” he stutters out, unable to be sentimental and caring even in the most dire situations such as this.
Nines seems to understand him though, because he gives a small smile, the best his frozen plastic features can do, and simply nods, all he can do with his malfunctioning parts. Then he’s being carried away, and Gavin is being ushered back to the emergency medical vehicle, feeling small and scared.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” one of the rescue team members tells him, her voice bright and optimistic, “you two are going to be fine.”
Gavin just nods, feeling numb and scared, and for the first time in years, he lets himself believe that maybe things just might be okay.