Work Text:
We keep this love in a photograph
We make these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts are never broken
Time's forever frozen still
- Photograph, Ed Sheeran
Here's where it began, Connor thinks, in a lonely shop on a lonely street far away from the noise of the city he's learned to call home. They visit this place ever so often--a little antique shop that's become a regular fixture in his life with Gavin.
He waits for Gavin outside, but as it is with every visit, Gavin takes much too long. And so Connor walks inside the stained glass door at the entrance, greeted by walls of mahogany, knick knacks, and forgotten items looking for new owners to love them.
"Gavin?" he asks, his voice hushed as if the items on the shelves need to be respected with peace and quiet.
"Over here."
Gavin's always at the same shelf, and Connor wonders why he bothered to check where he is. He approaches, and the same items ever present on this shelf greet him--cameras from the old days. Some predated androids, some were made before Gavin was born, and some were made during a time Connor's only ever seen in black and white pictures on the internet.
"Tin can, when I die, promise you'll spread my ashes on this shelf," says Gavin as he bends down to examine the cameras on the wooden shelf.
"Gavin, I understand you love old cameras, but perhaps that is a little morbid." Connor looks up at the series of old printed photographs on the wall above the shelf. Some are so old the colors have faded away, or perhaps they were never there.
Gavin stands back up, his own camera in his hands, examining it as he puts in an old roll of film he picks up from the shelf. "No, no. It's not that. Fuckin' cashier pissed me off earlier. I need you to make sure the last thing I do on this goddamn earth is be petty and mess up this shelf. Literally," he says, putting back the film roll onto the shelf.
Connor smiles, laughs a little bit even. Back then he'd ask what happened, offer a solution to resolve the conflict, and perhaps go behind Gavin's back and talk to the cashier to explain the man's behavior. He doesn't do that anymore.
This is Gavin. He accepts that and more.
He also accepts the fact that Gavin's about to buy something else...again, because he just picks up what Connor knows to be an Instax.
"I'm getting this one. Isn't it great?"
"Gavin, you've already purchased two other cameras in the past month. Are you sure?"
"No. Listen, tin can. This is a fuckin' Instax. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this stupid shop to get one?" Gavin says. It's a rhetorical question of course, and Gavin begins to explain the "goddamn wonders of this marvel of technology" and how "android tech ain't got nothing on this thing."
"I'm fairly certain that our technologies are far more advanced-"
"Shh," says Gavin, putting a finger on Connor's mouth. "Don't talk bad about my new baby in front of it."
"Perhaps you'd like to pay for it first," says Connor, a breathless laugh trailing behind his words.
"After that shithead insulted my photographs earlier? Fuck no."
Connor laughs, a little harder this time, until he realizes Gavin may just be slightly serious, so he looks him dead in the eye. "Gavin..." he starts.
"Fine. But you're a dipshit and I'm sleeping with the Instax tonight on the couch."
"Of course, Gavin. I'll take note of that once you crawl into bed and say you missed me."
"Disgusting."
"Indeed."
Six months, fourteen days, three hours, two minutes, and three seconds. That's how much time it's been since Gavin first mentioned old cameras to Connor. It was a lazy Saturday morning as they sat on the couch at their apartment. Gavin had been staring intently at his laptop for a good thirty minutes before telling Connor, "I wanna get a camera."
Connor was watching the television at the time, and the suddenness of it, coupled with his dislike for unexpected outcomes made him say, "I'm sorry?"
"A camera. Okay, so I know you androids have got supercharged memory and you definitely aren't invading people's privacy by recording every single thing you see with those pretty eyes, but I want a camera."
Gavin's face looked absolutely manic, and Connor had only seen him this excited a few times in their four years together. He knew there was no stopping this. This was one of those phases, just like with the headphones, the toy cars, and the figurines. Connor had been utterly powerless each time.
"Gavin, if you wanted a photo, my optical units are high-resolution-"
"Listen. I need an old camera. Like, print photos. Film."
"Can your mobile phone not perform the same function?
"Print. Photos."
Connor sighs, even if he doesn't have to, and says, "O...kay. Perhaps we can find an antique store and you can purchase one then."
"I knew you'd be supportive," says Gavin with an unnaturally bright smile that didn't fit his face at all, almost looking like he was in pain.
"I'm...not sure I had a choice."
"You're right. Let's go!"
"You mean now? Gavin, I-"
Gavin stood up, putting his laptop on the couch with measured excitement. Connor stood up as well. Reasoning sometimes worked with Gavin, but in this particular state, there was nothing to be done.
And now their apartment is host to tens of figurines, headphones, and toy cars. Their bedroom has an entire table of headphones sitting on custom-made wooden stands, their living room had an entire display of figurines, and their guest room had an entire track for toy cars, which Connor heavily disagreed with.
But Gavin's only ever so rarely that excited about something, so Connor acquiesces. A smile from Gavin, though painful looking sometimes, is worth seeing.
And now their walls are decorated with printed photos. Photos of the park, of the city, of the items Gavin bought in a fit of obsession. Connor likes to look at them sometimes, in early Saturday mornings like today. He'd walk through the living room and just stare at the prints Gavin had gotten developed for a hefty price. Objects, places, sights frozen in time, and if the photos lived long enough, they'd become memories to be treasured forever.
He didn't like it at first--covering their walls in glossy papers, often black and white or sepia. However, as he walks now in his plain white shirt and shorts, observing the photos lit by the morning sun from the window, he realizes how they've grown on him. It's their lives catalogued on their wall.
There's one of the sunrise from their trip to the beach a few months ago.
Another of the traffic in Detroit in front of their car. Connor remembers that one. Gavin took it from the driver's seat while waiting for the car in front of them to move. Connor had to insist he focus on driving, but Gavin got one photo in.
One of them catches his eye--a blurry photo of him with his hand covering his face. Gavin always tries to take photos of him, but Connor always refuses, giving different reasons each time. After this photo, he told Gavin, "I'm afraid the bright flash may affect my optical units," right before excusing himself to go to the bathroom to "wash his optical units".
He knows the truth though, but he couldn't tell Gavin. Not yet.
Lost in thought, that's when Gavin comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Connor's waist and pressing his head on the back of Connor's shoulder.
"Miss me?" Gavin asks, his voice clearly still waking up.
"You flatter yourself too much."
"Ha. The prick misses me."
Connor takes Gavin's arms and turns around, saying, "Of course I do." He grasps Gavin's hands, weaving their fingers together as he kisses him, feeling the heat of Gavin's breath on his lips. Gavin's eyes close as they bask in the moment. It's always soft, always warm, and always the moment Connor waits for every morning.
"Good morning," he whispers as they pull apart. Gavin says the same.
It's Saturday morning, and this is how they wake up. Sometimes Connor wonders how they ended up here, but it's too late to change the past. Not that he would want to.
Gavin steps beside him to look at the photos just as Connor turns around. "You know, I'm still sad I've only got this blurry-ass mess as my only printed photo of you," he says.
And perhaps that's a pang of guilt in Connor's systems, but he couldn't really do anything about it, so he simply says, "You'll have to give me something in return."
"And what'll it be, your majesty?"
"I'll think about it."
"Mhm."
One of these days, Connor's going to run out of excuses and of sly words to say, but he'll delay it for as long as he can. "Breakfast?" he asks, readying himself to cook something quickly. It's noon, which means Gavin's stomach is begging for mercy.
"Yeah, sure."
Connor leaves Gavin to his thoughts as he looks at the photos. As he walks to the kitchen, he hears the unmistakable snap of a camera, and his eyes pick up the flash of light reflecting from the walls.
No.
"Gavin!" he shouts, looking back and seeing Gavin holding his Instax, waiting for the print to come out.
"What?"
"I..."
Perhaps Connor's tone betrays his panic, because the next thing Gavin says is, "Hey, wait. What's wrong?"
Connor does the only thing he knows to do at this moment--he rushes to the bathroom and locks the door, Gavin calling out his name as he does so.
He breathes, looking at his reflection on the mirror above the sink, lit by the white light reflecting all over the bathroom walls and floor. He'll have to wait. Just a few more seconds.
And slowly, the skin all over his body begins to recede. His real skin--the one behind the human facade--unveiling itself over his face, his neck, and his arms.
The skin he hasn't showed Gavin in full. Silver, metallic, unnatural, still reminding him of the way he and Gavin will always be different.
"Connor!" Gavin calls out, knocking on the door.
"I'll be out in a minute!"
"What's happening? Look, you can tell me."
"Nothing! I simply needed to wash my eyes."
"Tin can, that's bullshit. I saw your face. What's wrong?"
Connor doesn't answer. He simply waits a minute until his human-like skin begins to come back, ignoring Gavin's knocks and calls. He breathes, calming himself down, a technique he learned from Gavin. His arms are normal once more, then his neck. The skin on his head is taking forever though.
As he figures out how to reprimand Gavin for the unsolicited photo, he hears the jingling of keys, and the clicking of the doorknob.
The door opens.
And Gavin fails to hide the shock on his face as he sees Connor's head. "Whoah, what...what did I do?"
"No, Gavin. Please, step outside. You're not meant to - I didn't mean -"
"Tin can, what are you talking about?"
"You're not meant to see this."
"It's okay! Hell, I know what androids look like. Connor, is this-"
"Please step out. We'll talk about this in a moment." Connor looks him dead in the eye, and maybe it's his expression made more menacing by the half-revealed metal on his face, but Gavin says nothing else before closing the door behind him.
He isn't ready for this, not ready to show Gavin this. The parts of him that aren't human. The parts of him that will always be different from Gavin.
The parts that will always keep them at a distance.
What would Gavin think, being reminded of how Connor's an android and not truly human? He once told Connor, "You're human as humans can be. Hell, even more. Don't know how that happened, but I'm not complaining."
He figures out something to say, and he decides on refocusing the issue towards consent. There's no way out now. He'll have to explain.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he finds Gavin sitting on the couch, the Instax on his lap. "Gavin, I would like to request you stow the camera away."
Gavin obeys without a word, placing the camera on the couch beside him, looking like a guilty hound. A rare expression. "Hey-"
"I asked you not to take a photo of me," Connor says as he sits down on the couch, facing Gavin.
"I know. I'm...uh..."
"Well, don't strain yourself."
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen."
"Even then, I asked you not to."
"Yeah, I know."
Silence comes after that, wrapping them both up in its grasp, filling in the spaces with the familiar feeling Connor's learned to identify as awkwardness. He stares all around the room to pass the time until Gavin finds something else to say, and he finds a photo in the transparent trash bin beside the television. All shredded and crumpled up, as if Gavin were trying to make up for what he did. Connor sighs then, saying, "I forgive you."
"I won't do it again."
"I'm glad, then."
"But you have to tell me why you were afraid to show me that."
They lock eyes, and Connor feels Gavin's stare piercing through him. He sifts through his catalogue of expressions. Gavin's is not anger, not frustration, not annoyance. It's another rare expression. Sadness.
"Please don't take it the wrong way."
"Just wanna know."
Connor pauses, considering his options, preconstructing the possible paths of conversation, but Gavin interrupts him. "Tin can, I just want to know. We've been on cases together. Android cases. I know what androids look like. Why the fuck's this any different?"
"Okay," Connor says, sighing in defeat. "I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"That you'd think differently of me."
"What?" Gavin says, mostly in confusion and shock.
"I...I thought it would remind you of how different we are. I'm not human, Gavin. I never will be."
"So?" Gavin crosses his arms, the frustration palpable in his face, and this is exactly why Connor didn't want to bring this up. This is exactly why he'd make excuses until the end of time, pretending he were human just like Gavin for as long as he could.
"I find it a slightly uncomfortable thought. Are you not bothered by it?"
"You know, prick. What bothers me is how you think that after four years I haven't accepted that I'm with the android-est android I've ever seen," says Gavin, picking back up his camera and putting it in his lap. He opens up the back, checking for the film and the photo paper. "You know how fucking long it took before you'd stop wearing that stupid Cyberlife suit to bed? To fucking bed?"
Connor processes for a moment, looking down on the floor as he sifts through his memores for the moment he first wore the white shirt and shorts to bed. "Two-"
"Years. Two years. You ever heard me complain about it?"
"Yes. In fact, you would complain about it an average of three times every week, and I would-"
"Okay, not the point," Gavin says, holding up his hand as he backtracks. "My point is, did I ever say, 'Oh that reminds me. You're not really human and that's a complete cock block. See ya, prick!'," says Gavin, mocking the last part with his voice oozing sarcasm.
"I suppose not."
"Then why the hell are you worried about this?"
"I'm...not certain."
Gavin just looks at him for a few seconds, camera in hand. Finally, he stands up, holding out his hand.
"What are you doing?" asks Connor.
"Best way to deal with fear is to face it, tin can. Congratulations, tin can, you're a model now."
"Gavin!"
"Look, you can say no if you want, but trust me when I say I'm fine with it."
"I..."
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then take my hand," says Gavin, a slight smile forming on his lips, a brow raised as if to challenge him.
Connor takes his hand, a trepidation in his movements. Gavin leads him off to the side of the living room where the light hits the wall and floor just right.
"What do I do?" asks Connor.
"Sit down on the floor and just...I don't know. Do whatever you want."
Connor nods, sitting down on the floor with his legs splayed out, hands clasped in the space between his thighs.
"Tin can...is that really the pose you want for your first ever printed photo?"
"I am simply following instructions. Is this incorrect?" Connor asks.
Gavin sighs, then he chuckles to himself. He puts down the camera, setting it on the floor before crawling over to Connor. He sits down on the space between Connor's thighs, smiling at him as he straddles his torso. "Hey, you don't have to be scared," he says, his hands on Connor's shoulders.
"Gavin...I do wish to do this, but-"
"Here," Gavin says, taking one of Connor's hands, lacing their fingers together and holding their hands in front of their faces. "Do it," he says.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, prick. When have I ever not been sure?"
Connor smiles, his discomfort slowly fading away. Gavin often had this way with things, when he drops the tough attitude and this side comes out. No one ever sees this, except for Connor, and perhaps he truly has been crazy to think Gavin would feel differently over something as simple as his skin. Not when he shows Connor this side of himself, not when they're sitting here on the floor, wrapped up in each other, holding each other's hands.
He accepts, and the skin on his hand recedes, ever so slowly, from the tips of his fingers, down to his palm, and onto his wrist. A palpable fear pops up as he does so, and he thinks maybe Gavin would pull away, afraid of the strangeness of the sensation of holding an living android's real skin.
But instead, Gavin holds on ever so slightly tighter.
"It's...warm."
"Yes, the maintaining temperature of circulating thirium is warmer than human blood. Our artificial skin compensates for it, allowing us to have the same surface temperature as humans," Connor explains.
"Nerd," Gavin says, smiling.
Connor finds himself chuckling, his worries fading away. Gavin changes his grip on his arm, so that he sees the back of Connor's hand. He observes every detail, and Connor wonders if he's memorizing it in his head, every line of connection and every spot of silver. Then Gavin brings the back of Connor's hand to his lips, and planting the gentlest kiss he can.
It takes everything for Connor's systems to not be overloaded with emotions at that moment. To know that Gavin accepts, that he truly-
"I love you. You know that right?"
"I do, Gavin."
Gavin drops Connor's hand onto the floor, softly, like he were handling something too precious to be broken. He holds Connor's face in hands, pulling him closer, and closer, and closer.
A kiss. And another. And another. Always the same--warm, soft, cozy. Like Connor's at home, but always different in meaning too.
And as their lips press together again and again, Connor thinks about the first time they kissed at the door of Gavin's apartment after a month of dating, and how it was Gavin's way of saying, "I care about you."
Connor doesn't know when the meaning changed to "I love you". Maybe it was after all the kisses at the sunny park benches, the hangouts at coffee shops where Gavin would sneak in a kiss when no one was looking, or the time they were stuck in the rain walking home without an umbrella and Gavin said, "Fuck it. We're in a romcom scene," before pulling them close just like this.
And now, this is Gavin's way of saying, "I love you regardless."
It's always been warm, soft, cozy. But now, it's safe too.
They pull away, and Gavin asks him, "Ready?"
"Yes. I'm ready."
Gavin stands back up, taking his position on the floor in front of Connor, who knows what to do now. He shifts his position. Something comfortable. Something wanting. Something he thinks Gavin would like.
Gavin puts the camera up to his eyes, and he says, "You're beautiful."
"Perhaps you can compliment me further after you take the photo."
A click and a flash of light.
But Gavin doesn't even wait for the photo. He puts the camera on the floor beside him, holds out his hand, and says, "Come here."
And Connor crawls towards him, his skin receding everywhere the light hit it, but Gavin never falters, never looks disapproving.
He simply grabs Connor's hand and lies them both down on the floor, guiding Connor's head onto his chest by his heart, his artificial skin completely gone. He doesn't bring it back as he listens to Gavin's body. His slow and steady breaths. His heart pumping deep and quick.
"I love you," says Gavin.
"I love you too."
They stay there for a long time, talking about nothing for hours in the Saturday afternoon.
When they get up, Gavin hangs the picture on the wall.
Connor looks at it every now and then, now seeing why Gavin wanted a picture of him. It's a memory. One of joy, of acceptance.
A memory of the time Gavin told him, without ever saying the actual words, "I love you regardless."
