Work Text:
Connor stood, concealed in the shadows at the back of the sizable bar, watching his “date” from a distance. Blue button-up, khakis, a single blue carnation set on the table — the things his date said would distinguish him from all of the other patrons on this busy Saturday evening.
The dating app professed to work differently, with better results, as matches were based entirely on compatibility derived through an exhaustive list of entry questions. It was supposedly the best of the best for matching people who were made for one another, and boasted incredible reviews from happy couples. Connor and his date hadn’t seen one another, not even in pictures, or heard each other’s voices. They didn’t even know one-another’s names.
They’d agreed through type, in one of their many conversations over the past week and a half, that the prospect of a truly blind date held an appealing excitement and intrigue. Such meetings were so rare nowadays, and they’d both embraced the mystery of it.
Connor hadn’t considered the possibility that it may alternatively prove to be a disastrous disadvantage, in an event like this, where he and his “blind date” were already well acquainted, and bitterly so.
As soon as Connor walked in, he spotted the carnation… and the person seated with it. The man’s attention was luckily down on his phone at the moment.
This had to be a joke.
Before he could be spotted, Connor immediately removed his own distinguishing feature — a matching flower — from the breast pocket of his outfit, and stuffed it into his pocket. He slid into the corner where he was less likely to be seen.
Hank, or maybe Nines, had to be pulling his leg and either watching from somewhere, snickering quietly to themselves, or at home with giant grins on their faces, awaiting Connor’s angry phone call.
Watching his “date” though, Connor deduced that if this were a joke, the other man was equally oblivious to it. His leg bounced restlessly as he nursed his beer, and he checked his phone often between taking quick glances around the bar.
Connor had messaged his arrival when he’d pulled into the parking lot, and with each passing minute, his date grew more anxious.
Nervous excitement wasn't something Connor had seen from this particular human before. It was completely genuine, and, he had to admit, surprisingly endearing. He cleaned up better than Connor would’ve expected too… he was clean shaven, his hair perfectly gelled, and the rich blue of his shirt complimented his skin tone very nicely.
Briefly, Connor considered his options. The chances of this ending well were comically low — far less likely than him being yelled at or even punched.
No, a blind date with Gavin Reed was not on Connor’s list of fun weekend activities.
He frowned, and decided to take the easy way out. Opening the dating app, he sent a quick message. ‘Hey, I’m sorry but something has come up that I can’t get out of. ’
Gavin, who’d been anxiously eyeing the entrance, grabbed his phone as soon as the quiet message alert dinged. He opened the message and stared at it, reading it multiple times before looking up and around the area again. No one specific caught his attention and he focused back on the phone. Connor expected there to be anger— a sneer or scowl. Cursing out loud, even. None came. Instead, Gavin leaned forward, closing himself off, and his left hand moved to partly cover his face, thumb running along the lines of the scar across his nose, covering the imperfection. He typed back, ‘No problem. Thanks for letting me know.’
Not at all the reaction Connor expected.
He continued to watch Gavin from a distance, leaning against the table at the edge of the establishment. Without the carnation in place, even if Gavin saw him, there would be no reason for suspicion.
Detective Reed took another sip of his mostly full beer, and stood to leave. He crossed the bar and handed his flower to a young woman who, based on her stance and the way she kept toying with the hem of her top, looked like she may struggle with her self image. Connor couldn’t hear Gavin from this distance, but reading his lips provided something along the lines of, “You look lovely, I hope you have a great evening.” The woman’s surprised smile lit up the room as Gavin headed toward the exit.
Their eyes did meet, as Gavin passed closer to Connor, and the android held his breath. The human gave an obligatory chin-lift in acknowledgment of his coworker, but nothing more.
That was the end of that. No confrontation, no anger, or embarrassment.
Connor stewed on the whole ordeal. Even after he’d gone home, even while laying in bed that night. Had he made the right choice?
Granted they’d only been talking a little over a week but he would never have guessed the guy who seemed so funny and considerate through their messages was the abrasive, indignant asshole the whole DPD avoided. Why was he even up for dating an android anyway? Didn’t he hate them?
It had been a while since he and Reed had spoken (knowingly) though. They mostly just ignored each other at work, and there hadn’t been any incidents since before the revolution — a long time ago, now.
Hank had changed. Maybe Gavin had too? Maybe there was more to the man than Connor realized?
The next morning, Gavin sat at his desk across the bullpen, looking like he did every morning.
Connor mostly tried to avoid Gavin all day, which was easy. They weren’t exactly friendly toward one another. When Connor was making Hank a cup of coffee however, it happened to be precisely when Gavin entered the break room with his mug. “Sorry, I’ll just be a second,” Connor apologized.
“‘S fine,” Gavin replied, “take your time.” It was the most Gavin had (knowingly) spoken to him in months. He was surprised when the human continued, “So how’d your date go last night?” Connor froze. Did Gavin know? How did he know? Connor blinked dumbly at the detective, mind reeling with how Gavin was going to react. Gavin raised a brow. “You were all dressed up for someone… I assumed it had to be a date?”
Oh. “Oh.” He gathered his thoughts. “Yes, um, it… didn’t go too great, actually.”
“Mm. Sorry to hear that.”
What on earth was the right way to handle this? “How about yours? You looked quite, uh, presentable yourself.” That was definitely not the right way to handle this.
Reed huffed a humorless laugh. “My date apparently didn’t think so… they took one look at me and left.” He forced a smile as Connor’s synthetic heart dropped lower in his chassis. Gavin thought his date hated what they saw, and it burned that that was, in part, exactly what had happened. Gavin continued, unaware of Connor’s guilt, “Guess it saved us both wasted time though, so I appreciate that at least.” The coffee machine dinged, making Connor jump. Gavin waited for Connkr to grab Hank’s mug before he raised his own empty cup in a little toast, “Better luck to us both next time!”
“Yeah,” Connor felt like a total dick. “Better luck.”
In a moment of morbid curiosity, Connor checked the dating app that evening, half expecting to be blocked from reaching out to Gavin again. Surprisingly, the messages were all still there, with the option to send another blinking back at him invitingly.
It didn’t change anything… right? What was he going to say just because he could reach out? Lies? Excuses? He might not know much about Reed, but stupid wasn’t on the list of ways he’d describe the man, and Gavin had even expressed gratitude for “the guy” not wasting his time.
Still, it was crazy how fast Connor had looked forward to his conversations with the faceless person behind that username, and how much he already regretted not having that person to talk to — however illogical that might be right now. They hadn’t gotten into deeply personal facts, obviously, but they’d communicated easily, and laughed often. The guy he’d been talking to was a bit guarded perhaps, but they both were, it was to be expected. That aside, he was sweet, and funny, and seemed like a genuinely good person.
The messages had quickly become the highlight of Connor’s days.
Looking back now, Connor knew that on at least one occasion, Gavin had been on a stakeout while they were messaging back and forth. Gavin hadn’t specified where he was (Connor hadn’t pushed him to say), just described that he had a great view of the cityscape and mentioned some little details of what he could see. He’d said he loved when his job let him see the beautiful parts of Detroit. Reed’s current primary case was gathering evidence on a suspected human trafficking operation that might be using Sunset Point as a meeting area.
The park itself wasn’t much to look at, but the view of the city was one of the best there was. It had to be where Gavin was messaging from.
They’d both just kinda avoided disclosing what they actually did for a living. Connor figured they’d talk about it in person.
Silver lining… they could fast-track that conversation, and any apprehensions about the other person not liking cops, if Gavin discovered who he’d been speaking to.
Connor stared at the open conversation and the send message icon. He should at least relieve Gavin’s mind that the blind date hadn’t dipped because of how Gavin looked or anything. That kind of thing could kill anyone’s confidence.
51ShadesOfGay: Hey, about last night. I owe you an apology, I’m sorry for bailing so last minute like that, that wasn’t fair. I just… I panicked, because of my own insecurities. And I’m sorry if it led you to assume it was anything else.
He figured Gavin wouldn’t reply. At least Connor had cleared his conscience and apologized. This would probably be the thing that got him blocked, and rightfully so. Hopefully Gavin took some form of relief from it.
Almost an hour later, to his surprise, a reply appeared.
Catpuccino: Oh hey… I honestly didn’t expect to hear back from you. It’s ok, I understand stuff like that gets overwhelming sometimes. It was a lot of pressure to go in blind like that.
Catpuccino: Look, I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and if you’re up for trying it again some time, I’m down. That said, I hope it doesn’t make me sound like a dick to admit I’m not interested in wasting time, mine or yours. If you didn’t like what you saw, I totally understand, and you don’t owe me any explanations. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m not winning any beauty pageants lol.
51ShadesOfGay: It really wasn’t like that, promise.
Connor didn’t know what else to say. He stared at the messages and frowned.
Catpuccino: Well, either way, I gotta be up early. Have a great night.
51ShadesOfGay: Yeah, you too.
… Maybe he shouldn’t have reached out. Connor closed the app, and put the communications to rest.
A month passed, without any changes. They saw one another at work, and rarely spoke. As usual.
That was that.
Catpuccino: I know it’s weird to reach out after so long but I saw this interview today and it reminded me of the political stuff you’d mentioned. I don’t know if you ever got the answers you were looking for, but I thought this might interest you. Hope all is well.
Catpuccino: https://www.action news.com/articles/androids-at-forefront-of-heated-military-strategy-discussion-an481207
It was 11:30pm on a Monday and Connor had just stepped out of the shower. He clicked the link, and what he saw had him standing in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and consuming information for the next twenty minutes.
The current world political climate was rocky, at best, and the discussions surrounding android rights and roles (internationally) were fascinating to Connor. He’d forgotten about venting some of his frustrations to Gavin through the dating app many weeks ago.
51ShadesOfGay: Sorry for not responding sooner, you sent me down a rabbit hole just now, wow!
51ShadesOfGay: I thought you didn’t care about politics? 😉
Catpuccino: I don’t, lol.
51ShadesOfGay: You can’t see it, but my eyes are narrowed. Either way, thank you for thinking of me!
51ShadesOfGay: How’ve you been?
Catpuccino: Can’t complain. Just wrapping up some boring work shit.
51ShadesOfGay: Good times. Is the view tonight nice, at least?
Catpuccino: It is :)
51ShadesOfGay: Good. Do anything interesting over your weekend?
Catpuccino: Yes. I had many riveting conversations with Bagel. He has all of the answers to all of the world’s problems, but in proper cat style, doesn’t give enough fucks about them to tell anyone.
51ShadesOfGay: This is why dogs are better.
Catpuccino: Dogs created the world’s problems.
51ShadesOfGay: Oh?
Catpuccino: Yup. Bagel has all of the facts, and would tell you all about it, if he cared to.
51ShadesOfGay: I think Bagel is just afraid the world will discover the skeletons in his closet. He sounds very suspicious.
51ShadesOfGay: Plus, dogs would be very unhappy with this accusation, so he’d have to confront that.
51ShadesOfGay: Big talk for a small cat.
This was exactly the type of dumbass conversations Connor had missed. Several minutes passed without any reply from Gavin. The last message remained unread.
51ShadesOfGay: Well, thanks again for the link. Have a great night.
He tried not to be disappointed, or over-think Gavin’s reasoning, when he crawled into bed and Gavin still hadn’t read the last two messages.
“Fuck! Connor!!” Hank’s voice boomed down the hall. “Get up!”
Yanked out of stasis at just after 1:00am, Connor scrambled to make sense of the urgency. He always slept in boxers for this reason alone. “Hank?” He flung open his bedroom door to see Hank hopping on one foot into a pair of jeans he’d just pulled from the dryer. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“There was a shitstorm during a stake-out… they need us to secure the scene right away.”
Connor knew before he even asked. “Where?”
“Sunset Point.” Hank buttoned his pants and spun back toward his room. “Come on, let’s go.”
He dressed faster than he ever had before. In two minutes flat, he and Hank were sprinting out the door, Hank taking the driver’s seat.
“Do we have any other information?” Connor was all business. “Is Reed ok?”
“No idea. Fowler told me what I told you, said it was a clusterfuck, and hung up.”
Connor steeled himself.
When they arrived at the park… Clusterfuck was an understatement.
“Hey, Connor!” Captain Allen shouted out to him before he’d even closed the passenger door. “Come here, we need you to translate!”
Connor sprinted across the parking lot. He knew what his priorities were, that saving anyone still alive — whoever it was that needed a translator —mattered the most. It didn’t stop him from scanning the scene as he ran past it, from growling under his breath when his scanners could not decipher the identities of either of the two bodies covered by white sheets, or the origin of the large pool of blood near them, without closer investigation.
Two women huddled together in the back of an ambulance. Another, carrying a young child, was being coaxed to join them. None spoke English.
Allen barked out, “Can you tell that one that we’re here to help her? And quickly… I need you over here, STAT.” Connor relayed the message in a hurry, convincing the woman with the child, and reassuring the others as well, that they would be safe. Allen waited impatiently near the entrance to a large building, shouting orders to a handful of SWAT officers surrounding the structure.
Connor joined them as quickly as he could. Allen filled him in as he approached, “There's one hiding in here… we’re not sure if she’s alone. Watch yourself. She’s armed, and taken a couple warning shots at anyone who’s gotten too close. We don’t know if she’s a suspect or a victim.”
“Understood.” Connor straightened himself up, and slipped into negotiator mode. It was pitch black in the space, an advantage for him and a disadvantage for any human within. “Hello?” He called out in the same language as the other women, “My name’s Connor, and I’m here to help you.”
Connor did his job. He focused on his mission.
It didn’t take him long to convince the woman to trust him enough to give up her gun. She, as well as two other women and yet another child, were all human trafficking victims. She’d grabbed a gun as they’d run for cover after the shooting started, and hid, terrified of being caught and shoved back into the van they’d been locked inside of for days.
Connor stuck to his mission, and tried not to look upset when he couldn’t answer the woman’s question: “Did the cop survive? The one that saved us? There was so much shooting.”
As soon as Allen and the medical team finally had all of the victims in one place, Connor hoped to find out.
Hank stood near the bodies, where little of the scene had changed. Connor asked as he jogged up, “So what do we have so far?” Now that he was closer, he could see that one of the bodies couldn’t be Reed: their frame was much larger. The other: could be. “Is Reed…” he dipped his chin toward the smaller figure.
Hank caught his drift. “Oh, no, we’ve not ID’d that one yet, but Reed’s on his way to the hospital. He’s critical, but was alive when he left at least.”
“Thank God,” Connor whispered in a rush. He wasn’t sure whether he believed in any God yet… but the reply was a habit he’d picked up from Hank long ago, and didn’t care enough to shake. Who knows, maybe Gavin believed in a God, and thanks was owed. His relief was no cause for suspicion… no one wanted another officer to be hurt or killed in the line of duty.
When no one was looking, he approached the large pool of blood that sat a ways off from the bodies, and took a sample of it. It glistened, still wet, on the tips of his fingers. He brought it to his tongue. He told himself it was for the recreation of the scene, which was true, but he knew deep down he simply needed to be 100% sure.
It was indeed Reed’s blood. And there was a lot of it.
Much of the rest of that night became a blur as he assisted in identifying both bodies, as well as the victims, and reconstructing the scene.
Everyone’s reports concluded that Reed had done his job, and done it well.
*****
The next few days were touch and go for Gavin, or so Connor had heard. Surgeries and hospital rooms. He’d been lucky, all things considered, and the doctors sounded confident that he’d make a full recovery.
For the rest of them, the days were spent working overtime: Coordinating with the federal government to secure the safety of the people rescued, and the prosecution of anyone behind the disgusting scenes.
Heavy bags had formed under Hank’s tired eyes by day four, and reluctantly — after immense guilt-tripping and a barrage of medical facts about the effects of stress and lack of sleep on men over the age of 50 — he’d agreed to take the day off. Probably more to have the day away from Connor, than from work. A success either way, as far as Connor was concerned.
Meetings and follow-ups filled much of the day, and Connor took very few breaks.
“Connor…” Fowler got his attention as he passed by the glass office, and waved him over.
Connor closed the door behind him. “Yes, sir?”
“I need some papers taken by the hospital for Reed to sign… just some insurance stuff. Normally I’d ask Tina, but she’s out of town still, and Smith has already gone home for the evening.” There was an expression on the Captain’s face that knew Connor wouldn’t want this task. Fowler was a good leader, Connor thought to himself — he knew (as well as he could) about his employee’s discomforts, but knew when to not let them get in the way of doing their jobs. “I don’t need them back today, if you could just bring them in with you tomorrow.” He gathered the papers and handed them to Connor. “Hopefully he’ll be too drugged up to give you any trouble.”
“Of course, sir.” It was only a few pages.
Connor rifled through Hank’s desk until he found a plastic folder to protect the papers from the rain that’d been pouring all day, and headed toward the hospital.
Reed’s room was sparse. White walls, monitoring equipment and a couple of generic floral paintings on the wall.
Gavin’s face was lax, eyes closed and body limp with the drugs keeping his pain at bay. His chest rose and fell, slowly but steadily, the only tell of life against his gaunt features.
Unsure of whether he should try to wake the man or just wait, Connor opted to take a seat on the small chair across from the bed. He probably should’ve made a louder entrance but it seemed too weird now to get up and open the door just so he could close it more loudly. …It also was weird to stare at a sleeping stranger, or to look at the paperwork that was none of his business. It was growing dark, and pouring rain outside seemed a fitting backdrop.
He’d only been in a hospital room like this once before, accompanying Hank while visiting a friend. He studied each machine surrounding Gavin, and researched its purpose. Humans were such resilient beings in many ways, and so delicate in others.
A nurse came in shortly, pushing a small cart with smaller equipment, and some medications on it. She had the right approach, and entered rather loudly. Reed shifted in his bed, and smiled weakly at the nurse before noticing Connor. His brows furrowed in confusion, and Connor held up the papers, waving them to reference his presence.
It took only a few minutes for the nurse to check some notes, jot some other notes, give Gavin some medications, and be on her way.
Gavin sat up slowly, washing his meds down with a bottle of water. “I didn’t hear you come in… How long’ve you been sitting there?”
“Just a few minutes before the nurse came in,” Connor smiled, “I didn’t want to wake you.” He crossed the room and extended the papers to Gavin. “Fowler asked me to bring these for you to sign.”
Eyes hooded, Gavin flipped through the pages, scanning the highlights. “Yeah, he said he’d be sending some insurance stuff.” He pulled a tray onto his lap with some effort, and looked around for what had to be a pen. Connor produced one, saving him further struggle. “Thanks.” He laid the pages down and began scribbling his signature wherever the text indicated to do so. “Fortunately I’m already familiar with this insurance shit… a lifetime of risk taking, and all…”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better each day.” Gavin cleared his throat and looked back over the paperwork to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He looked weak, tired, and sick of being in the hospital. “Should be out of here in a couple more days, and back to work ASAP.”
“Don’t push yourself too fast, you need to heal.” He knew enough about Gavin to know he was probably wasting his breath. “You did great, keeping those people safe.” He knew Fowler had kept in touch with Gavin about the victims and the case.
“Just did my job,” Gavin shrugged, “same as you would’ve done.” He aligned the papers and held them out to Connor. “Thanks for bringing these by. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out in depressing hospital rooms,” Gavin offered up the excuse for Connor to go with a forced, weak smile.
Rain snaked trails down the large glass window, obscuring the view of a bare, brick wall on the other side of a narrow alleyway. Connor frowned at the boring sight, realizing it was all Gavin had been able to see for days. “Not really,” Connor admitted, semi-truthfully.
The edge of Gavin’s mouth twitched, a mixture of emotions at Connor’s words, and his eyes fell to the thin blanket covering his lower body. He seemed to deduce Connor’s interest in sticking around for what it was: Pity. Gavin opened his mouth to say something, but closed it before voicing the thought, eyes not leaving the blanket.
Connor cleared his throat, hoping to offer some insight and to lessen the uncomfortable weight in the room. He piped up, “Hank has told me about hospital stays before, and I know they… suck.” Connor chuckled, remembering the stories Hank had told him about his mother hen of a doting ex-wife. “If it’s not the doctors and nurses in and out all day, it’s the constant concern of family members.” Connor regretted his words the moment they left his tongue. He sucked his lips between his teeth and bit down on them firmly. Gavin’s room contained no flowers, no balloons, or stuffed animals, no ’Get Well Soon’ cards or any of the things he’d seen in other hospital rooms — things normally left by visitors and loved ones.
“Yeah,” Gavin answered quietly, omitting anything else on the subject.
Floundering, Connor cursed himself internally. There was no shoo-ing the elephant out of the room, now that he had invited it in. “Sorry,” he began with, acknowledging his own ignorance. “No local family?”
“No family at all. They’re either dead, or might as well be.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Meh,” Gavin shrugged, not appearing to be particularly bothered by the topic, “we were never close.”
A low, plasticky click from Gavin’s bedside, ignored by the human, drew Connor’s attention. “Drugs. For the pain,” Gavin provided, holding up his arm to display the tubes running directly into his bloodstream. “The machine delivers them on a timer automatically.”
“Gotcha,” Connor replied, to both subjects. He realized that even awkward conversation might be better for Gavin than none . He settled further into his seat. “Guess all of this gives you plenty of time to spend on some dating apps, at least,” Connor smirked, hoping, once more, to lighten the mood. “Any hot dates lined up for once you're, you know, walking?” The slightly dark humor was a risk… but he recalled Gavin saying he appreciated the type, back when they’d been messaging back and forth blindly.
“Pff,” Gavin chuckled, “hardly. I think dating might just not be in the cards for me right now.”
“You can’t give up so easily,” Connor admonished, as though he had any experience in the matter at all. “The right one is out there.”
“I take it you’ve had better luck?”
“…No,” Connor admitted, both of them chuckling at the ironic confession. “It’s funny, how hard it is to find someone to connect with, even in a big city.”
“I think I’ll need to search the whole globe for someone who’ll put up with my shit,” Gavin laughed softly, careful not to strain his injuries, “but you? You’re a fucking catch. Anyone would be a fool not to see that.”
Stunned into silence, Connor studied Gavin carefully, sure that there had to be a joke following. Gavin seemed a little surprised at his own words, the painkillers having an influence maybe? A light blush dusted his cheeks. Gavin didn’t take the words back though, or cheapen them with humor. Connor tilted his head. “What on earth makes you say that?”
Gavin’s blush deepened. “You’re…” his hand weakly waved toward Connor generically, “just look at you.” His eyes were getting heavy as he spoke, the recent painkillers unquestionably taking a toll. “You’re smart and considerate… you’re always so.. poised. Like, you’ve got your shit together even when everything else hits the fan. Plus, you’re hot as hell,” Gavin smirked, eyes fully closed by this point, words beginning to slur. “You’re marriage material, baby.”
This was the very last thing he’d ever expected to come out of the mouth of the man who’d threatened to shoot him in the past. “I.. wow.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, letting several seconds pass. “I…” he didn’t even know if Gavin was hearing him at this point, and he spoke at a whisper, “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“Mmm,” a sound more from Gavin’s chest than his throat.
Each breath got heavier, and Gavin’s features smoothed into sleep quickly. Connor stayed a while, sitting quiet and still on the chair, probably for longer than was socially normal to watch someone he wasn’t involved with sleep.
On his way out of the hospital, there was a gift shop near the exit, with cards and flowers and the normal fare. One item in particular caught Connor’s attention: a plush raccoon that looked as mischievous as it did cute and soft. He paid for it, along with a small bouquet of daisies and a basic card, and after struggling with whether he should have it delivered anonymously, he wrote out a generic, “Hope you’re feeling better soon, -C,” and gave the shop the room number to deliver it all to.
He walked a little lighter on his way out of the hospital than he had going in.
*****
“Do you think he could’ve meant it?”
Poor Hank received the full load of Connor’s not-so-internal conflict. “Hard to say, son.” He paused in his stirring of the spaghetti he was making himself for dinner. “I mean, he’s probably on some strong drugs, and they can make people say some pretty crazy shit.”
“Hmm,” Connor sank a little further into his seat. “So, possibly not?”
Hank looked at him with all the compassion and amusement of a dad trying to help their kid navigate a first crush — age not really relevant. “It sure sounds like you’re hoping he did,” Hank chuckled. “…Why don’t you just ask him?”
Without skipping a beat, Connor replied, “I don’t want to get shot if he doesn’t remember saying anything.”
Hank barked a loud laugh. “I’m pretty sure if you actually still fear him pulling a gun on you, you probably shouldn’t approach him as a, uh, love interest, either way.”
Sighing loudly, Connor’s frustrations only grew. He’d told Hank about the hospital visit, not about the conversations they’d had through the dating app, or the aborted date. “I mean, I don’t think he would. He’s not indicated any hostility toward me in a long time.” He added under his breath, “Of course, I’ve also just avoided him in general.”
“Look, if it’s any consolation, people might say some loopy stuff while on pain meds… but they don’t usually just make stuff up that they don’t believe, or have on their subconscious… at least in part.”
Connor nodded, he’d researched all about how certain medications might have affected Reed’s thoughts and words. “I think I owe him the chance to talk about it.”
“Then... give him a chance.” Hank shrugged, and then chuckled, “Maybe in public.”
Connor got more insight than he was expecting before he even spoke to Gavin. Five days later, on Gavin’s first day back after the injury, Connor and Hank just happened to walk past Reed’s car in the lot. Hank was lost in his thoughts, staring down at his phone as he rambled on about some minor case details when they passed between Reed’s car and someone else’s, but Connor did a double take.
A familiar stuffed raccoon sat, buckled in place in the passenger seat, like a very small, polite someone awaiting their chauffeur to return. Connor stalled in his steps at the sight.
“What?” Hank asked, looking over his shoulder at the parking lot to see what had put a goofy smile on his partner's face when Connor caught back up a moment later.
Smile unchanged, Connor replied, “Nothing.”
Gavin was relegated to desk duty, and didn’t appear too happy about it. He glared at everyone but Tina, who welcomed him back with a cupcake and a card that read, ‘Glad you’re not dead!’
Connor looked for opportunities to speak with the human semi-privately all morning. It didn’t take long for him to realize Gavin was actively avoiding him.
So he remembers, Connor deduced.
About an hour after lunch, he saw Gavin head to the bathroom, gave him a one-minute head start, and took his opportunity.
“Can we talk?” Connor wasted no time, blurting the words out as soon as he walked in. He was glad they were alone in the bathroom, since he hadn’t really taken the time to check.
Gavin blushed deeply as soon as Connor spoke. “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. “Look,” Gavin finished his business in front of the urinal and zipped himself up. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I.. those pain killers make you do the weirdest shit, and I… fuck.”
Connor had been braced for this. He wasn’t disappointed. Really.
When Connor hadn’t replied after a moment, Gavin blurted out, “Please don’t file a complaint to HR.”
“What??”
“It won’t happen again, I swear. I wasn’t trying to harass you. I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything, I swear. And I…” Gavin tripped over his words. “I was fucking high, and I don’t know why I said those things, and..” He put his hands on his hips and stared at the tile floor between them. “I’m sorry.”
“So, you didn’t mean what you said?”
“Well, I…” Gavin studied him carefully, nervous that he was treading on thin ice in any direction he walked. “I should not have said any of it.”
“But,” Connor took a step closer, “that’s got nothing to do with whether you meant it.”
“I— ”
The bathroom door swung open and Chris Smith entered. “Hey guys,” he greeted before their expressions (and probably the realization that Connor didn’t need a bathroom) tipped off the tension in the small room. He stopped short of entering a stall. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Nope!” Gavin took the opportunity and yanked the door open. “Back to work I go!”
Connor 51: 2:07pm - We need to continue this conversation.
G. Reed: 2:07pm - No, we do not. Please just accept my apology. I meant it.
Connor 51: 2:09pm - I think, to have confidence that I don’t need to alert HR of a possible issue, that we need to complete this conversation.
He could hear Gavin’s quiet groan, and his forehead meeting his desk, from across the bullpen. He felt bad for making Reed squirm, but it didn’t stop him from smirking to himself. Hank had reminded Connor often of what a ‘little shit’ he could be when he wanted something — and a definitive answer was definitely a thing he wanted.
G. Reed: 2:09pm - Fine. Whatever you need.
Connor 51: 2:09pm - Thank you. Meet me in interrogation room 2 in three minutes, please.
Gavin’s leg bounced under his desk for the following two and a half minutes.
The short timeframe was intentional. For one, Connor didn’t want to give the man unnecessarily prolonged stress and secondly, he didn’t want him to have too long to calculate his answers. He hoped Gavin wouldn’t simply deny any feelings — if they actually existed — just to avoid an HR complaint.
For the latter reason, Connor spoke up first, as soon as Gavin walked into the room and closed the door behind himself. “Thanks for agreeing to talk to me. I’m sorry for using the HR threat… I don’t actually have any intention of contacting them. It never even crossed my mind to do so.”
“W—,” Gavin replied, expression turning confused. “I don’t…”
Connor cut straight to the chase. “Would you like to go out with me? Doesn’t have to be like a date , date… but, somewhere other than the precinct, or a hospital?”
Brows furrowed, Gavin glanced around for clues of what he seemed sure to be a setup. His eyes fell back on Connor’s when he found nothing, still loaded with suspicion. “I’m sorry… say that again?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, for days. And I know you might not have meant any of it, so if that’s the case, I understand the answer will be ‘no’, and that’s perfectly ok. And no, of course I’m not going to file some bullshit complaint, no matter what you say.”
“You’ve filed complaints on me before,” Gavin reminded with a huff.
“You pulled your gun on me.”
“I was going through some shit.”
Connor sighed. “If you meant what you said in the hospital, I just thought it might be worth us sitting down to actually talk, that’s all.”
Confusion lingering, Gavin studied him silently. “So… are you saying you want to talk about my feelings? Because, like…thanks, but, hard pass. Or,” his eyes narrowed, “are you saying YOU would like to go on something that is like a date, date..?”
If he was being honest, Connor was impressed at how smoothly Gavin had turned the tables.
“I would love a date.”
Gavin’s expression was anything but convinced.
Connor clarified, “Yes, like an actual date, date.”
“…Why? Why on earth would you have an interest in going out with me? I’ve been nothing but mean, or weird, any time we’ve talked.”
“That’s…” Connor’s focus shifted to the ground. “That’s not entirely true.” He wrung his hands nervously. “I have a confession.”
The longer this conversation went on, the more confused and suspicious Gavin was becoming. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “What are you talking about?”
“Your… blind date. From a couple of months ago now…” Connor sighed heavily, ready for whatever direction this might go. “51 shades of gay? That’s me. Because, you know, serial number 51, and the gray outfits, and… whatever…” Connor shook his head, getting back to the point. He braced himself as much as he could. “I was your blind date.”
Gavin blinked in silence, brows deeply furrowed and jaw clamped shut. Processing what Connor was saying.
When he didn’t speak, Connor continued, “I didn’t know either! I had no idea, until I walked into the bar, and it was… you.”
“So…” Gavin shook his head stiffly. “You lied.”
Connor frowned. “I did. And I’ve wondered every day since then if I’d made the right call.” He took a step closer to Gavin. “… And I don’t think I did.”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed further, suspicious as ever. “Are you fucking with me?” He looked around the room again. “Are you recording this or something?”
“N-No.”
“‘Cause that’s not fucking cool.” He pointed a stiff finger at Connor. “If you suddenly want revenge or something, you feel free to kick my ass or whatever, but don’t go toying with my emotions, that's fu—”
“Gavin,” Connor barked, interrupting his tangent, “I’m not messing with you. I promise.” Gavin was silenced but still apprehensive, and he glared at the android. Connor sighed, loud and exasperated at the human’s stubbornness. Connor abandoned his own caution, closed the distance between them, and captured Gavin’s lips in a decisive kiss. Gavin tensed under the pressure of Connor’s body, but his little gasp of surprise was adorable, and to Connor’s relief, he didn’t attempt to flee or to fight. When Connor’s hand cupped the juncture of his neck and jaw, Gavin’s shoulders relaxed.
Connor had intended to make the kiss quick, just a thing to prove his point. He did not expect Gavin to completely melt under his touch, however, or for the human to so freely welcome the contact. And he definitely did not expect for Gavin to be an incredible kisser.
A blush highlighted Gavin’s face in pink when Connor finally withdrew. Gavin stammered, “Um, ok.” He didn’t move from where he’d been pressed against the wall. “So… a proper date this time, then?”
“Yes, please.” Connor gave him another quick peck on the cheek. “Pick me up at eight.”