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One-Shots & Drabbles for Detroit: Become Human

Chapter Text


As soon as you walk into the bathroom and look at the other occupant it’s like your heart has stopped working. You’re speechless.

Connor is observing his reflection in the mirror, a beard decorating his once smooth cheeks. He's curiously poking and prodding the brunette fuzz, mumbling to himself. You didn't actually think he would go through with your distant comment about how a beard would enhance his features.

He glances at you through the mirror and grins, that damn smirk making you flush and your brain scramble. “How do you like it?” he gestures to his face, “I went through various facial hair options and determined I liked this one the best. Do you think it suits me?” He turns to you and steps closer, you unconsciously raising your hands to run them along his cheeks.

You didn't think it possible for him to actually do this. The hair felt like it has been there the entire time, scruffy and imperfect in certain spots. You love it, and damn if you didn't want to just smoosh his face and make funny faces. “I love it, Connor. You have no idea.”

His grin widens even more and suddenly you're being twirled and pushed against the bathroom countertop. “Oh!” you gasp, and Connor takes that as an invitation to dip down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

He pulls back and hums in thought, but all you want to do is continue what he started. “The feeling of my hair across your lips and cheeks is quite pleasant; I didn't realize it would feel so ticklish.”

You scoff and roll your eyes playing with the tie neatly situated on his neck, tugging firmly on it. He goes willingly, tie now loosened and lopsided across his suit. “Stop your contemplating and just do something already!” you pout, and next thing you know you're lifted onto the countertop with ease.

“There, I did something. Is there anything else you would like?” You huff and push him back, hopping off the counter and advancing on him.

“You're such an arrogant asshole sometimes, you know that? Makes want to wipe that smirk right off your face.”

“I'd like to see you try,” he retorts, and you've finally had enough teasing, grabbing him by the front of his dress shirt and leading him out of the bathroom and pushing him onto the bed. The result is something you'll have seared into your brain for the rest of your life.

Connor has leaned up onto one arm, dress shirt split open from your strong grip, tie partially flipped over his shoulder. The look of stunned wonder on his face has you grinning from ear to ear, and he speaks up.

“This was one of my favorite dress shirts!” but you ignore that in favor of crawling onto the bed over him and press a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“It looks better this way, admit it,” you state, and before he has a chance to respond you take the opening and kiss him, which he eagerly returns.

You two will definitely be late to work.

Chapter Text

It was such a simple request. You asked Connor to go out and buy some pads and come back, so you could cuddle and watch a movie together.

Connor didn't think it would be this difficult. He's standing in the feminine hygiene aisle, a wall of every type of pad, liner, and tampon available. But you didn't say what kind, or what size, if you wanted the super long, or the heavy flow, or the ones with the wings, or—

His sensor turns red, flickering wildly. How can there be this many options. He didn't know you would have to deal with all these products. He can't choose, he's already looked up every brand and variety online and they all have pros and cons to them, but it's all just too much.

A lady also in the aisle walks up to him, and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Um, sir…..are you alright? Do you need help?”

He snaps out of it, turning to her with a desperate look in his eyes. “Please! I don't know which kind she would want, there's too many, she didn't tell me what brand and type—”

The woman stops him, and pats his hand gingerly. “Oh, you poor thing you. I remember the first time I sent my husband to get me these things. He was as red as a beet just staring at all the pads,” she laughs, and motions to his sensor. “why don't you try calling her? She'd be able to clear things up better than I could.”

Connor gapes, sensor turning yellow. How could he have not thought of that? He could have avoided all this if he just asked you. Within a moment you're answering, and as soon as you're done talking he's rambling, “so you didn't tell me what kind of pad you needed, and there so many different kinds here plus liners and tampons, and I can't choose because what if it's not the right one? So this lady came up and she told me to call you, so that's what I'm doing, and I don't know if you've got a heavy flow or light one, or if you need the ones with wings—”

You're completely mortified, this lady listening in on the entire conversation Connor is having with you, and you plead for him stop, he can't see it but you're burying your face in a pillow from embarrassment. You can't ever show yourself at the superstore again, for fear of running into that one woman who you can hear giggling on the other end.


A quick farewell and you've both hung up, him with a bright blue blush and the woman bidding him good luck. Twenty minutes and Connor is rushing through the door, dropping your favorite chocolates, the pads, and a heating pad at your feet.

“Oh my god, Connor. You didn't have to do all this,” you hug him close to kiss his cheek, but he turns last minute to get a peck on the lips.

He grins bashfully, gathering the items and putting them away in the appropriate places. “I was going to get you a kitten as well, but determined it would take too much time. I hope you'll forgive me.”

You scoff, ruffling his hair and sitting down next to him on the couch. “Honestly, that would have been great. But you're the best gift I could ever get,” his face brightens and he is smiling ear to ear, “because I just love the reaction I get when sending you on a pad run; it gives me life.”

All you get is a pout in return and relinquishment of movie privileges. Worth it.

Chapter Text

Sometimes you really hate the effects of working out. Sure you're starting to show some muscle definition, and you've lost a couple pounds, but that's not why you're doing it.

Connor is that reason.

You express your curiosity in working out and he's so enthusiastic about it, encouraging you to research and helping you when you get stuck. He actually goes so far as to create a workout regimen for you, but one look at it and you have to gently tell him that it's a bit too much for a beginner to start with, and he concedes defeat in place of your exercise plan.

You'd feel touched on how thoughtful he's been so far, except the sweat pouring down your face into your panting mouth is giving you other feelings. Feelings like how exhausted you are, and how rank you must smell after your ten minute cooldown on the treadmill.

It's only been one month and you'd rather be spending that time chilling at home with said android, laughing at his reactions to another classic movie from the early 2000s. But for now you climb off the treadmill with your towel and water bottle in hand, rushing to the changing room.

You have a rule about not using the communal showers in the gym center, because you believe they harbor the nastiest germs ever; no way you're stepping foot in there. A quick wipe down and then you're in your car and back to your apartment in about twenty minutes, dashing up the stairs to the third floor. You're sweating again as you close the door separating you and the outside world, sighing in relief. You would never want to subject another being to the terror that is your scent right now.

Connor steps out from the kitchen, a protein shake already made and passing it to you as you sit down on the couch for a hot second. “I'm happy you are keeping up with the schedule you've created for yourself. I know you were hesitant in starting this, but the health benefits greatly outweigh the aches and pains you'll encounter now.” He smiles at you, and you grin back.

“So would you say no pain, no gain?” And Connor just tilts his head, confused, before the imaginary lightbulb goes off.

“Oh! That's one of those inspirational quotes, correct? I believe you can also find them on those posters with the kittens, sporting a similar saying?” Oh my god, he is just too cute. You try not to choke as you down the last of your shake and move in for a kiss, a noise of contentment leaving Connor's lips as he settles his hands at your hips.

Although you were itching to take a shower, your mind has wandered to how deft Connor is, his lips on yours. Catching your breath leaves you open to Connor trailing kisses down to your neck, delicate nips making you squeak in surprise. You definitely didn't see that coming. He chuckles against your neck, something you find very sexy, and he continues the assault.

It's only after awhile do you decide to end the impromptu make out session, pulling back with your cheeks flushed and eyes hazy. “That was—Connor, what are you doing?”

You look on in horrified amusement as he swipes his tongue against your neck and pulls back, licking his lips. Sometimes you wonder what runs through his brain at times.

He tilts his head as his sensor turns yellow, then blue as he stares at you with a grin. “I was wondering what I was analysing when kissing your neck; I looked it up and figured it was sweat. Did you know your sweat is made up mostly of water? It also contains trace amounts of urea, ammonia, salt, and protein—”

You slap a hand over his mouth while laughing hysterically, baffled by this chain of events. “That's the most disgusting thing I have ever seen you do, Connor. I've even heard you licked blood once upon a time.”

“Analyzed it, and if by 'once upon a time’ you mean last week, then yes.” He says this so cheerily you just scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Connor, I know you have to. But that is fucking gross and the way you do it is disturbingly attractive. I'm going to go shower."

He tries to chase after you to apologise but you quickly shut the bathroom door, because if you let him explain himself you'll only laugh more. You calm down as you close your eyes and let the warm water rush along your back, smiling to yourself with how suave Connor was acting; it's nice to enjoy each other's presence.

After a while in the shower you step out with your towel wrapping you up, wiping away the condensation that had gathered on the mirror. The person you see looking back seems much happier than you would have thought, a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It wasn't every day you enjoyed your reflection, but it was hard to deny how nice the blush of your cheeks and how full of life your eyes are.

As you make your way to the bedroom to towel dry yourself and comb your hair in front of your vanity Connor sneaks into the room, evidenced by the fact you gasp as he hugs you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Connor! Jesus, you scared me. Make some noise, will you?” you tease him, because he almost never makes noise, other than during menial tasks. To be honest you'd find it unnerving if you haven't been living with him as long as you have.

He huffs out a laugh that tickles your cheek and makes you shiver; he always knows how to make you react to the most inconsequential of things. Since it looks like you're not getting your hair combed you set the comb onto the vanity while Connor traces the curves of your body upwards, stopping briefly at your breasts, humming at the feel of them through the towel.

That feeling of pleasure from your make-out session returns quickly as his hands breeze back and forth above the spot where your towel is being held together. He brushes his lips against your ear whispering against it, “may I take this off?”

The way he lowers his voice just the tiniest bit has goosebumps rising on your arms, and all you can do is nod in confirmation. You love how Connor always asks before he does something, how considerate he is above all else. It's very cute, but at the moment all you can think is how sexy it is.

Connor sees the way you're reacting to him with your elevated heart rate, and the bumps on your arms tells him that what he's doing is successful. He can't help it when he slowly and gently takes your chin in one of his hands and turns your head so he's able to look into your eyes, observing way they're starting to dilate. “I'd like you to tell me, please,” and the blush that spreads across your cheeks is so adorable he can't help but chuckle. He knows you don't love saying stuff like that out loud, that you're embarrassed, but he loves seeing you this way.

“I-I'd like you to take it off,” and the way you stammer it out has him pressing a kiss to your neck, one hand undoing the towel while the other turns your head back forward, letting you focus on the both of you through the mirror. As the towel lands on the floor you look down towards the ground, not wanting to glance at your own image.

You're embarrassed, not happy with the way you look, especially pressed against Connor who is looking at your body. You don't notice the way he's absolutely enraptured, a faint blue blush coming to the surface of his cheeks. “You're so beautiful,” he whispers, “i want you to see that, always.” You want to cry sometimes when he starts talking like this, because his words hit home for you.

Connor smiles when you finally look up from the ground, meeting your gaze as you reward him with a smile of your own. Once he's seen your smile he effortlessly picks you up and sits you down on the vanity, and he begins to undo his tie. You stop him as he loosens it and pout, a brow raised. “You're not letting me have any of the fun,” you admonish, and he drops his hands to your thighs.

“I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it. You always make me feel flustered. I just want to make you feel good, you do so much for me.” You lean forward and plant a quick kiss on his nose, undoing the rest of his tie and tossing it onto the bed nearby, starting upon his dress shirt next.

Connor inches his hands towards your inner thighs, that smirk of his following your movements as you swiftly unbutton the last of his shirt. He stops your ministrations as soon as his fingers reach your folds, starting gentle as he moves circles on your clit.

“Ah! Shit,” you jerk at the sudden attention you're given, Connor capturing your lips in a searing kiss leaving you dizzy at the onslaught of feelings. Your heart is racing as his tongue tangles with yours, a moan escaping your lips. You haven't even gotten half of his clothes off before he's already making a mess of you, your legs beginning to quiver.

Connor loves seeing desire cloud your eyes, your hands gripping his shirt making it bunch up. He'd be slightly miffed at the way it'll be wrinkled afterwards, but a quick ironing will get that out. He stops as soon as he feels you start to tense, your whine from having your release withheld from you like music to his hears.

He gives you one last kiss before he shrugs off his dress shirt and lays it neatly on the bed, turning back towards you and lifting his fingers to his lips and licking them in a way that makes you squirm restlessly under his gaze.

“That is so disgusting,” you state as your brows knit together and you bite your lower lip.

He just grins widely. “But disturbingly attractive, as you so eloquently put it,” which elicits a snort from you.

Connor loves hearing all the ways you show your feelings for him; it makes his thirium pump work harder, sucking in a needless breath as you confidently reach for his pants and unbuckle them, shoving them down and figuring out that he was going commando the entire time; something he decided to try out since the underwear given to androids is really only a formality. A formality he didn't really want to go through with anymore.

Connor chokes back a gasp as you take hold of his erection, slowly pumping him and drawing as many sounds as you can from his lips, his eyelids fluttering briefly at the input being registered. He's able to step closer to you, to continue what had been started before and kiss your neck. He bites and sucks the way you like, hard enough it feels like it's on the precipice of pleasure and pain; also enough to leave the slightest of marks along your neck.

He hasn't told you, but he suspects you know that he loves leaving proof of your lovemaking on your body, especially ones you couldn't hide as easily. He feels a sense of happiness when you become shy and self-conscious because of them, but if you ever told him to stop he would.

You're at it for who knows how long before you're both panting and releasing little moans of enjoyment. When you pull him in enough for his dick to press lightly against your folds, a whimper escapes your lips at the contact.

“Please, Connor, I can't wait any longer…” and to emphasize you thrust your hips so he goes deeper in, you were already so wet.

Connor grunts at the sensation, hands gripping your hips in an almost vice like grip.

He begins to slowly thrust into you, already feeling you shake as he moved, almost torturously slow. After a while and more intense kissing he picks up the pace, his finger moving to rub your clit and drawing more of those wonderful sounds from you.

“Ah, c-close!” you yell out and he keeps his pace, leaning in close to you.

“I love you so much, come for me, please,” and those words are all it takes for you to experience your release, Connor's following quickly after yours. You lean back against the vanity mirror as you catch your breath, Connor having pulled out and is now peppering your face in kisses.

He picks you up off the vanity and carries you to the bathroom, drawing a bath. “What's this for?” you inquire, and he just looks at you funny.

“I’m drawing us a bath, so we can relax and cuddle some more. We rarely get to enjoy our time alone,” and your heart just squeezes, he's so heartfelt and considerate in everything he does.

You two have been relaxing in the water for about ten minutes before Connor speaks up. “I'm going to enjoy watching that if I want to have some fun on my own.” You turn and gape at him, brain working at light speed considering what he said.

“You fucking didn't,” and his only answer is to smirk and kiss the top of your head. You'll get him back, soon enough.

Chapter Text

“...what is it like outside of Detroit, _____?” Connor tilts his head towards you from his spot next to you on the couch, curiosity written upon his face.

You look up from the book you're reading, brows knitting in concentration. “Hmm… depends on where you go. Where I was born it's a small town, but the same climate. If you go to southern United States then it's usually hotter than here, and many more small towns dotting the landscape.” Connor hums in thought and his sensor flickers yellow, so you decide to leave him be for now, going back to your book.

While you're on the topic, it is close to the fourth of July weekend….and you haven't been back to your hometown in quite a long time. You'd have to call in to work and get those days off, as will Connor, but it would be worth it to take a trip back to lake Michigan and watch the fireworks show with him.

Although they haven't lived there for a while, your parents have recently renovated their nice little cabin you all had used while you were growing up, bugging you to “come take a break! Stop being such a busybody.” Which is partly true, only because Detroit is always in need of their officers, even on their days off.

“Do you think we could visit?”

Connor's sentence has you widening your eyes and setting the book down; he's definitely gotten your attention. “I mean, sure? But that would mean needing to go visit the cabin and cleaning it up before we settled in for the weekend. It hasn't been used for a while now.”

“I'd like to experience something other than what I have here in Detroit. It would also interest me seeing where you grew up, what life was like.” Connor quickly looked up where you were born while you're lost in thought, noting that your parents owned a property at one of the tips of Michigan, a woodsy area on the outskirts of Traverse City. He's never seen a forest in person before, Detroit being turned into a jungle gym for construction companies within the past couple years.

You adjust yourself after deciding, and lay your head in Connor's lap where he automatically begins running his hands through your hair. It's soothing and has you observing the faint smile that graces his face as he plays with your hair. “We'd need to call it in tonight and then pack, but other than that I suppose there's no problem with that. We'll be able to watch them shoot fireworks over the lake, and it's been forever since I've done that.”

Connor grins and you raise your brow, knowing he's either up to something or knows something you don't. You know it should worry you when he makes a face like that, but curiosity also gets the best of you.

“I've already contacted the Captain and he's granted us both PTO for the weekend but expects us to pick up the slack on the next holiday, which I expected him to say.” Connor huffs as you exaggerate a groan, gently poking your nose as you sit up. You're always telling him how cute he is, but in reality you're much cuter; he has the evidence to support his claim.

Since it's only Sunday you both decide it will be wise to pack Thursday night, leaving Friday morning.

For now you two get through the week at work by trying to get through as much work as possible, not wanting to come back to piles of open cases left in your inbox. You underestimated how much could pile up. The last time you took three days off of work and came back with many more files than you could handle. It took you three days of overnight work to catch up, which was utter hell.

Friday morning came knocking on your door, almost surprising Connor and yourself. “Ok, I think I've packed everything I could need.” You gesture to the two bags sitting next to the front door, and Connor gives you a thumbs up from his spot on the couch. His luggage consists of one small duffle bag, emblazoned with the DCPD logo on the sides. It's not like he needs anything more than spare clothes and a container or two of Blue Blood, which you're somewhat jealous of. You wish you could get away with just one bag.

“Ok, I'll grab the keys and we can get going. Based on what I've looked up, it will take us at least four hours to reach the cabin,” Connor says as he jumps up from the couch and reaches the door to take all the bags, you opening the door for him. The door is locked once the two of you are outside, and Connor puts everything in the trunk while you make your way into the passenger seat. Your car is one of the non-automatic vehicles still on the road and in service, and you wouldn't be shy to admit you take pride in your hatchback. It's reliable when you need it to be, and you'll only get rid of it when it finally kicks the bucket.

Connor closes the door once he's seated, and turns to glance at you. You seem excited to be going on this trip, and if you're happy then he's happy. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't requested the weekend off specifically for this purpose. You two barely get any time off to go anywhere, and he's been wanting to plan a little getaway for you both ever since the android revolution calmed down.

As soon as you're both buckled in he begins the drive out of the city and into the suburbs, the scenery of towns with multiple neighborhoods transforming to the sparseness of the farms with their large crop fields. This all occurs within the time span of a couple hours, half of the drive already gone.

You decide to spend the next half of the trip playing “I Spy”, which Connor gets right every single time thanks to his analysis software. Connor laughs when you get all pouty and tell him how it's no fair since you aren't able to do that, to which he comes back with the fact you never said he couldn't use it.

You don't even notice time has passed until you're driving through your hometown; not much has changed since you've been gone. The restaurants are all the same and there are familiar faces everywhere you look, but the one thing that has changed is the fact you see androids roaming downtown enjoying themselves; it makes you feel happy that everyone is coexisting, helping revitalize the town.

It's mostly small talk during the ten minutes it takes to reach the cabin. The dirt road Connor uses is almost taken over by the wild greenery of the forest, something you'd have to talk to your dad about. The cabin itself looks relatively fine considering the state of road, you just hope the inside isn't any worse.

While Connor is grabbing the bags you step up to the front door and flip through all the keys you own, the cabin key being bright pink and having the image of Hello Kitty on it; a gift to you from your mom when you were much younger. Your first steps into the cabin are those of curiosity; you've been gone so long from this place it's like you're seeing it for the first time. The smell of the Cypress wood has you reminiscing about your time spent with your parents here, a warm feeling settling in your chest and a small smile forming on your face.

The interior is covered in a small amount of dust, while the couch, arm chairs, coffee table, tv stand, and tv are all covered in those plastic things used to keep dust off of furniture. Most of the furniture is new, which makes you sad, but there are one or two pieces that you remember; pieces like the end table you helped carved with your grandpa, and the dining room table you had drawn on with permanent marker.

You begin removing the covers while Connor takes the duster you brought and swiftly tackles the dust problem. You begin sneezing as dust is kicked up in the small space, Connor looking at you in concern after the third sneeze.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, I forgot about the windows!” He shouts as he races to each of the windows and opens them up, his mind having completely blanked on the fact that he was filling the room with dust and you were going to inhale that. He rushes back to you and pats your back as you finish your sneezing and coughing, but once you're doing better you wave him off and give him a kiss on the hand. You know he feels bad, but you reassure him that a little dust won't kill you, and get back to work.

The covers go into the closet next to the front door and you set to work on closing the windows, because while Connor doesn't need to cool down, you most certainly do.

You plop down onto the couch as Connor brings you a bottle of water, which you eagerly chug until there's half the bottle left. There was a bit more to cleaning up the cabin than you had anticipated, but Connor being here with you certainly made things easier.

“It's very warm and inviting. I imagine the cabin would be a nice place to visit during the winter; sitting by the fireplace and watching movies,” he says while moving throughout the living area, stopping at a group of pictures hanging on the wall. “Are these your parents and yourself?” He gestures to one of the larger frames adorning the wall, turning to you afterwards. He already scanned the faces before asking, but he wants to hear you talk about these things; he loves the way your face lights up when discussing the things you love.

You nod, walking over to him and his hand automatically reaches out for yours, smiling when you settle your hand in his. “It is! That was when I turned ten years old; we had come here for my birthday, and I had accidentally slipped on some mud trying to swing at a pinata. I ended up covered in the mud, and didn't have any clean clothes left, so I had to wear my bathing suit until they could be cleaned. It was pretty embarrassing at the time but thinking back on it, it's pretty funny.”

Connor glances down at you as you're telling the story, noting your relaxed grin and how you're swinging your arm back and forth while holding his hand.

A good chunk of time is dedicated to going through each photo and telling their stories; by the time you're done Connor is beaming with happiness as if he had just lived through them all alongside you, asking questions about something if it interests him. You'd bet your salary that he can recite all your childhood memories back to you now.

You had arrived at the cabin around 1pm, and cleaning up and talking about your past takes almost two and a half hours. By now your stomach is growling with hunger, so you fix a small late lunch of sandwiches for yourself.

The rest of the day is dedicated to exploring the town and visiting the thrift shops and local eateries, the two of you being stopped by people you haven't seen in years wanting to catch up with you. You're able to do that with the first couple of people that do this, but it becomes too much and you just want to get to bed early because the drive tuckered you out. Sure, it's not even ten o'clock yet, but it's not every day you drive four hours and then clean out a cabin.

Making it back to the cabin is quick and easy, and soon enough you're in your pajamas and cuddling up to Connor in bed. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow and although Connor doesn't actually sleep, he goes into standby mode which mimics it.

Connor wakes you up around noon by bringing you breakfast in bed, a simple dish of eggs, bacon, and toast. He opens the sliding door letting a breeze in, and the sun shining into the room gives you a feeling of peace; something you rarely get back in Detroit.

Connor sits down next to you in bed while you eat, fiddling with the loose strings in the comforter. “I was thinking we could explore the forest today. I think enjoying the atmosphere together will be a nice change from the chaos we usually endure.”

Your only confirmation is a thumbs up, too busy digging into your food. A year ago Connor didn't even know the first thing about cooking, but as soon as you asked him he had downloaded over five thousand different recipes from all kinds of countries. Even though he doesn't have taste buds, everything comes out tasting like heaven, and most of the time you're begging him to cook.

You wash your dish and then take a quick shower, donning a dress and leggings. There's nothing special you do to your hair, just putting it in a ponytail to keep it out of your face. Connor gives you a quick kiss as you step out of the bathroom and you return it, smiling at him as you both make your way out of the cabin.

The entire time you're walking about the forest floor Connor is stopping you and excitedly telling you about the flora and fauna that can be found, picking a single flower from each kind he can find. You don't know what he's going to do with them, maybe start a flower pressing journal? You've seen him do odder things, like his brief stint in birdwatching.

It takes about an hour to reach the end of the forest along the property, marked by wooden posts, and as you're walking back Connor is working on something with the flowers. Everytime you try to turn and see what he's doing he manages to obscure your view, and soon enough you're trying to sneak a peek under the guise of giving him a hug. He obliges, of course, but he actually shoves the flowers into his jacket.

“You're kidding me,” you laugh at him, “what are you trying to hide from me?!” He just grins at you endearingly and give you a big side hug, stepping away from you.

“If I tell you, I'd have to kill you,” and he just plays innocent as he walks on ahead of you. You laugh in delight, since he rarely ever tells a joke on purpose; most of them are on accident with Hank setting him up for them.

An hour later and you come out of the brush in front of the house, with Connor waiting by the door. He's holding something behind his back, and grinning rather shyly about it. You giggle and make your way to him, stopping a couple feet and rocking on your heels in excitement.

“Sooooo? Whatcha got there?” you ask, and he reveals that he has made a flower crown out of the ones he picked along the way. Your face absolutely radiates happiness as he sets it on your head, and as soon as it's secured you pull Connor down and give him a searing kiss, pulling back to an expression of gleeful surprise on his face.

“I….didn't know you would like it that much. I saw all the flowers and the first thing that came up online was a flower crown,” he says quietly as you give him a hug, his arms wrapping around you and settling on your back.

The time left until the fireworks event is spent with cuddling on the couch and watching Connor's favorite TV show, which happens to be Agents of Shield. You both get through half a season (with no breaks) while time passes by and soon enough the sun is setting, casting a golden glow in the cabin.

You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips while standing up. “Well that was fun! We should set up our chairs outside and wait for the fireworks,” and Connor nods, fixing the flower crown back into place on your hair.

Connor heads outside to the shed while you clean up, grabbing two lawn chairs and the bug zapper, not wanting you to have a bunch of bug bites the next day. He's seen you with them once before, and it sent him into a panic when you said “this is torture, I literally want to die.” It had taken you a couple hours to reassure him that no, you didn't actually want to die, it's a figure of speech.

You meet him outside and carry the equipment down the dirt path and along the road until you reach the dock for the lake, other townspeople having set up along the beach. Connor is content choosing a spot as their own while you head further down and greet the people, all smiles and sunshine. He can hear them complimenting your flower crown, and he waves as you point from the crown to him. He's glad you're enjoying yourself, as he's also had a great time.

He didn't know that things would be so tranquil outside of the city. His only time encountering something even close to this would be in the past with Elijah Kamski's house on the outskirts of town, the blanket of snow and utter silence leaving him with his own thoughts. But your hometown is more lively than that, and the warmth exuded by the landscape has him more at ease.

You return after Connor has the space ready and he's lounging in one of the chairs, staring at the lake.

“How do you like it?” you ask while taking the empty seat, a sigh escaping your lips. The pink and orange hues of the sunset are framing you in an almost mystical light, a smile on your face and flower crown upon your head. He saves the view into his memory banks, preserving the moment forever.

“It's something else. I'm glad we were able to take the time and change the pace we usually move at. If I didn't enjoy working at the precinct so much I would consider moving here. There are so many possibilities with what I could do.” Connor has a thoughtful look on his face as he speaks. You didn't really plan on using the cabin more, but if he likes the area so much you can always plan little getaways when you have the time.

The lightning bugs slowly make their way out as darkness falls on the lake, their lights blinking and reflecting off the body of water, It's almost otherworldly as the noises of the wildlife come into focus, echoing throughout the forest around you.

It only takes ten minutes before a police boat is escorting the fireworks barge into the middle of the lake, and as soon as it's out of the way the show begins.

Bright flashes accompany resounding booms you can feel deep in your chest, and when you turn to Connor it's to an expression of awed wonder, his sensor spinning yellow as he observes. You link your hand with his and squeeze it, getting one in return as he briefly looks at you and smiles.

Connor gasps and points at the ones that really interest him, like the ones that you say resemble fairy lights, and the small ones that look like they're spinning; a quick search online and he finds out they're called silver dragons.

Your favorites are the ones that look like falling leaves and the weeping willow ones, there's just something so aesthetically pleasing about them.

If you had to choose between watching the fireworks and watching Connor, you'd probably choose to watch Connor. You've seen the fireworks almost every year since you were old enough to remember, but there's only one time that Connor will be surprised and excited about seeing them. As sneakily as you can you snap a picture of him with the flash of the fireworks illuminating his face, and he glances your way with a small grin gracing his features.

Forty-five minutes later the finale begins, lighting up the lake with as many fireworks that can fill the sky. Connor taps your shoulder as you're looking on, and when you turn to him he leans over and gives you a slow and deep kiss, cupping your face in his hands. You're left breathless as he gives you a smirk and enjoys the rest of the finale, the biggest and loudest ones outshining everything.

Chapter Text

Connor sends a message to you as soon as he and Hank begin their patrol of the park. He wasn't able to take the day off and join you at your friend's wedding, but this is as close as he could get, swapping routes with another patrol just to observe the affair from a distance.

They start on the far end of the park, Hank moving at a leisurely pace so Connor has to slow down and walk beside him. He feels a bit impatient at this, wanting to see what you look like since you would have had to dress up for the occasion. That and he's never witnessed a wedding before.

This gives him time however to enjoy the scenery, something he hasn't really done lately. It's only been a few months since he's become a deviant, and he's still learning about how to not always be in “investigation mode”, as you have so eloquently put it. Hank helps him here and there, but it mostly entails watching sports and figuring out the intricacies of hockey and baseball. He doesn't really enjoy watching sports, it seems too predictable to him.

“What are weddings supposed to be like, Hank?” Connor asks, grabbing his coin out of his pocket and flipping it between his knuckles. Hank sighs before glancing at him, fiddling with his coffee cup.

“I haven't been to one in a long time Connor, look it up online,” and Hank takes a sip of his coffee before stalking the path up ahead, weaving between the joggers running in the opposite direction. Connor accesses numerous articles on the subject before coming to the conclusion that they're usually about happiness, beginning life with the one you truly love and cherish.

He doesn't exactly understand that emotion; love. He has experienced affection and desire with you before you had asked him out on a date, and his feelings have grown exponentially in the months that you two have been together, but he's not sure if he has ever felt “love” for you. It's a difficult emotion to capture, but some of the Jericho crew seem to have figured it out so quickly. He might ask Markus next time they meet.

It's not long before he hears the crowd of people gathered all around a gazebo, flowers and different colored bows strung on the top of it. There's a middle aisle that's separating the two sections of seating, which are also covered in various decorations. He can spot you in one of the rows standing in front of the gazebo, your tux catching his eye immediately.

It's by all accounts what a male would wear, but yours is slightly more form fitting, the black and white accentuating your curves. He can feel his thirium pump working faster as a blush forms on his cheeks, and he continues to stare even as Hank notices and points it out.

Hank has to tug on his arm in order for him to move and continue the patrol, but he glances at you quite often while making their way in a circle around the gazebo. Two men wearing brightly colored tuxedos make their way to the inside of the gazebo, one after the other. From what Connor can deduce, that was the part where family escorts the bride to the altar.

Connor's sensor turns yellow as he sees the two men, and frowns a bit. “Hank,” he starts, “according to online resources, it hasn't been all that long since gay marriage was legalized.” Hank glances at him before seeing his LED color, and mumbles something incoherent to himself.

“You're right Connor, it hasn't been that long at all. Back in my day, people like that couldn't even confide in their own family for fear of being ostracized, it was disgusting. People should live how they want without fear,” and Hank walks off, leaving Connor standing in the middle of the path.

Connor's sensor keeps spinning yellow as he finishes going through articles about the topic, leaving him a bit conflicted. He feels like androids are in in the same situation, but knows it's not the exact same. Androids aren't just fighting for equality, they're fighting for everything that humans have. Considering how even interracial couple are still being criticized, Connor feels a bit worried for you. It might be 40 years until marriage between androids and humans will be legally recognized by the government. He's not sure if you'd be ok with that….

Connor jogs over to Hank once he's done cataloguing his thoughts, who is further along the path and looking towards the gazebo.

Everybody looks so happy, you included. You're smiling and giggling with the others next to you, and he registers a feeling he's never had before. He has to look it up, but now he knows it's contentment. He isn't sure why seeing you so happy at a wedding makes him feel this way, but he files it away for later.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur as he and Hank do a full lap of the park, and by the time he makes it back to the gazebo everybody is idling about as the recently married couple gather them up.

The couple says some things Connor can't hear, but everybody claps and they start dancing to some music being played. Hank motions Connor to sit down on a bench with a view of the gazebo, and nurses his coffee. Connor turns towards him after a moment of thought, his sensor going from blue to yellow.

“ you think _____ would want to be married?” Connor looks alarmed as Hank chokes on his coffee and it spills on the grass, patting Hank's back as he catches his breath.

“Jesus Connor, warn a guy ok?” Hank takes a breath before looking at him, conflict etched across his face. “I dunno. You guys don't even have proper rights yet, I don't see how the whole thing could work out right this moment.” Hank turns to look at Connor but doesn't say anything, Connor staring at you, and you notice him and wave excitedly, blowing him a kiss.

Connor smiles and waves back, a blush already on his cheeks at the display of affection. Hank chuckles, slapping Connor on the back, making him stumble forward in surprise. “This isn't a question for me Connor, it's a question for her. As far as I know there haven't been any cross species couples that have tried, and even if they did, it wouldn't legally be recognized by the government. I don't have all the answers for this one, son.”

Connor hums in acknowledgement, and Hank finishes his coffee and throws in a nearby trashcan, turning on Connor and giving him an exasperated look. “Besides, you two have only been dating for a few months! Hit the brakes a little, you're making me feel old as fuck.”

“But—” Connor starts, and Hank just cuts him off with a sharp, “No! Not a word!” and Hank rushes off to find you, the wedding having ended since their lengthy talk. Connor stares at the two of you conversing, and your surprised reaction at whatever Hank tells you, and you start running towards him almost immediately.

“Connorrrrrr! You like my Best Woman outfit that much?!” You're shouting at him, giggling like mad, and Connor can't help but look at Hank with betrayal. All he gets is a shrug and Hank waves his hand at the two of you in dismissal.

“Well go on! I can finish the patrol on my own, go enjoy yourself Connor,” and Hank walks off, whistling some tune he doesn't quite catch.

Connor will have to thank Hank later, because at the moment you're dragging him to the dance floor of the vacated wedding location.

He supposess he can indulge in one dance, the look on your face making the heavy topic he had been thinking of fading away.

Chapter Text

“I thought you were happy, I'm sorry.”

Simon has a pained expression on his face when you say that, and it all but confirms your fears.

He's fallen out of love.

You step back, falling into one of the armchairs behind you. It didn't help matters that you were doing this now, in the middle of Jericho's new base. At least you had the room to yourselves. You rub at your eyes trying to stem the oncoming tears, and it works, for now.

“I'm not sure how long I've been feeling this way, but, I think I know the reason,” he says, eyes find an interesting spot on the floor and watching it whilst rubbing at his arm awkwardly. You can almost feel the tense atmosphere in the room.

“Was any of it real?” You spit the question out at him, and he flinches out of reflex more than anything. You sigh and slump back into the seat, because the last thing you want to do is get angry at him. It's not his fault, you know that, but it doesn't make this any easier.

“I….yes, in the beginning. I loved spending time with you, thankful for you helping me after all the chaos. But I think my feelings were misplaced.” You cringe at the thought, that he might've been with you out of a misguided sense of gratitude. It makes you feel sick, like you were making him stay with you against his will.

You don't notice when he kneels down and gently grasps your hand, squeezing it. “I know what you're thinking, and you didn't. I chose to be with you, by your side. Don't berate yourself for something you think you did.” Your chuckle has him glancing up at you, eyes full of confusion.

“How are you being so calm about all of this?” The tears fall down your cheeks unbidden, and you don't even bother wiping them away. You feel like you're going to fall apart right in front of him, and he hasn't even shed a single tear, which makes you feel worse.

“Would you believe me if I said my stress levels are at 80 percent? There are so many feelings I can't properly identify them all. It's taking everything for me not to just break down into a shambling mess.” His hand is shaking in yours you realise, and you sniffle wiping your nose before snot starts to run from it. You must be quite the sight, eyes red and puffy, face blotchy from the tears streaming down your cheeks. Your breathing is coming in short, shaky puffs on the verge of hyperventilating.

“I-I think you should l-leave.” It takes all your strength to mutter out those words, not even looking up at Simon as he lets go of your hand and walks away, stopping before the door to turn back and glance at you.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers before leaving, closing the door behind him. As soon he's gone a sob rips from your throat, and it's like the floodgates are opened, because once you start it feels like forever until you begin to calm down, curled up on yourself in the chair.

You don't doubt that the others in the building can hear you, but you can't even muster the strength to muffle your sorrow. You close your eyes, just for a brief moment, but you drift quickly into a fitful nap, the emotional exhaustion hitting you like a freight train.

When you stir awake it's to the sun casting a golden hue into the room from it's only window, making you realize you spent more time here than you wanted to.

When you're leaving you glance into one of the many rooms, and the sight that greets you makes the tears fall again. Markus is hugging Simon as he cries, but it's the kiss he gives Simon on his forehead that has you biting your lips and rushing out, passing by North who is staring at the room the two are in, grief and anger etched into her face.

You'd think Simon and Markus look great together, but the emptiness in your heart says otherwise.

Chapter Text

You're reheating takeout from the night before while channel surfing when he catches your eye. You stop on the Channel 16 news, almost frozen.

No, not Markus, standing on the makeshift podium while giving a victory speech. The one to his side. The slender, blonde android, standing calmly by Markus's side.

“Simon….?” you whisper, and you scramble for your phone on the counter before unlocking it. It can't be, you thought your ex had disposed of him after the fight.

You still have his number saved in your phone. You couldn't bring yourself to delete it; deleting it would mean accepting he's gone, and you just couldn't do that. You slide to his name in your contacts and hit call, stepping in front of the TV while listening to the dial tone buzz away.

One, two, three, four rings and you're afraid it's not him. But you'd know that familiar sad furrow on his brow anywhere, the one he would always look at you with whenever your ex was around. It was his default expression 80% of the time. He has that expression on his face now, you can see it when the camera zooms in on his face.

“Fuck. Fuck! Fuck you Simon,” you drop to the floor as you yell at the empty room, vision clouding with tears. He was alive! This entire time, and he was alive and well. You thought you had accepted his death all those months ago, said what goodbyes needed to be said at the garbage dump where he was discarded.

Your meal is forgotten as you spend the rest of the night thinking about him, sorting through your feelings. When the sun rises in your living room, you think you have a plan. It might not be the best, but it'll have to work.


A week. He's avoided your calls an entire week. It feels like you're being toyed with, perhaps he hates you for what happened, or maybe that really wasn't your Simon. Why would his embedded cellular line still work? You know it's him. It has to be.

So you make your move. The news channel tells you that the androids have a new, temporary base of operations located off the docks, converting an abandoned warehouse to suit their needs.

You wear your most comfortable clothes for the cold weather and walk all the way to the other side of town where the docks are, public transport still not running after the evacuation. You didn't leave simply because you have nowhere to go, you've lived here your entire life, and to lose that would be to lose everything. Not that you already haven't, you think to yourself.

Lost in your own thoughts you don't realize you've reached your destination, security model androids blocking the only entrance in sight. “Stop,” they call out, and you comply. “What do you need?”

What do you need? Oh, nothing really. Just to possibly reconcile with your long lost android is all. They'd throw you out if you said that, assume you're there to take back what's yours. But that's not you, you would say you've been on their side the entire time, quietly cheering from the sidelines.

“I was wondering, if….if I could speak to Simon? That's only if he's here, I'm not actually sure, I thought I saw him on the news but I wasn't sure and I know that was a week ago but I can't ignore this feeling that it might be him and I need to tell him I'm sorry— so he here?”

You don't get another word in as you're interrupted, ushered in by the two and then promptly left as the doors shut behind you. Looks like your rambling approach worked. Now to figure out where he is.

Turns out to be harder than you thought. Most of the androids you pass don't even look your way, or they get scared and rush off to another room. You're getting discouraged, slumping onto a nearby bench and hanging your head in your hands.

This was going somewhere, but it was soon to hit a wall if nobody was going to acknowledge your presence. Your shoulder is jostled as someone, a woman, sits next to you, startling you out of your reverie. They look familiar, probably from the news, but you can't place their name right away.

“What are you really here for, human,” the feminine voice drips of malcontent, and you shrink back out of sheer habit.

“I'm, uh, looking….I'm looking for a friend, for Simon, if he even considers me that anymore. I just wanted to make sure he's ok to tell him I'm sorry about....sorry for when—” You deflate even more, and the woman harrumphs at your answer. They tug you up by the arm, no choice but to be dragged along through the complex maze of hallways and rooms, stopping in front of one somewhere in the middle of the building.

“Simon! This human wants to see you. Make it quick,” the woman demands and you don't even have time to gather your bearings before you're thrown into someone, their arms coming to catch you by your shoulders. The doors shut, and the woman walks away just as quickly as she entered.

You look up and are met with blue eyes staring you down, shock written across his features; Simon's features. That sad furrow creasing his brow even now. You don't even notice you're holding your breath, waiting for a sign, anything, from him. But he looks even sadder than before. He stumbles back as you shove him, anger fueling your strength.

“I thought I didn't miss you, but then I saw you on my screen.” Surprise flits across his features before settling into sadness once again, and you scoff. “You knew it was me, and you never answered! I wanted to apologise, reconnect. You were–are, the only good thing in my life.”

Suddenly you're pressed into his chest, crushed into a hug with his arms resting on your back, head by your ear. “I didn't know what to say, nothing could convey what I can show in person. I was so worried on if you would really welcome me back, accept me for who I am now,” he whispers, inhaling as if he's able to take in your scent. It strikes you as an entirely human action, one he never would have done if he wasn't a deviant, like he is now; like they all are now.

You pull back, cupping his face in your hands. He looks so content right now, like he's basking in your presence. “I will always accept you Simon, as you are now or ten years from now.” He smiles, forehead leaning down to rest on your own.

If you didn't already know it, you'd think you're in the past relaxing with him like you used to at home. “Are you busy?” you ask, and he shakes his head, looking at you curiously.

“No. What did you have in mind?” You chuckle and pull him to a nearby worn looking couch, dropping on it and taking him with you.

“Since you've been gone it's imperative we catch up on our favorite TV shows. Immediately. No distractions, no breaks.” He only grins in response and turns the wall mounted TV on, finding the show.

It's almost like your life was weeks before, but in this moment and time you're truly happy; the happiest you've been in a long time.

Neither of you notice the trio of Markus, Josh, and North gathered near the slightly cracked open door, whispering and giggling to each other at the scene before their eyes.

“If it's fine by you three, I'd like to have at least some time alone with _____,” Simon relays via the short range silent communication androids have, and all three scatter like leaves in the wind.

He holds you in his arms just like he used to, your head leaning against his shoulder, and you'd say this is the most relaxed you've been in awhile.

Chapter Text

It happens in the blink of an eye. Ok, a couple, really. You're standing at the corner of your work, a coffee shop, on break and see movement out of the corner of your eye, leading to a shady alley everyone is vehemently ignoring. Your attention is pulled to a man climbing out of a window? What?

You do a double take, stepping closer, but not close enough to lead to your detection, and squint, gaping as you try to figure out why he looks so familiar.

While you're staring he pulls out his phone and seems to be making a call, waving his hands around in frustration. You see him hang up. He's already nearly out of sight. Confused you sigh and shrug, turning to make your way to work. About an hour later as you are taking out the trash you see Hank's car pull up. You throw the bag into the dumpster and take a few steps towards the warehouse, watching to see if you could see anything.

When the police arrive you are surprised to see your two favorite caffeine addicted detectives. Well, correction, one caffeine addicted detective and his partner; Hank and Connor. You wave at them when they see you and get a wave and a nod back in return. Wave from Connor, nod from Hank. Hank turns to look for a way into the warehouse and Connor approaches you.

"Good afternoon, _____," he greets, sporting a warm smile.

"Hey Connor, what's up?" You look pointedly at the warehouse where Hank is currently testing the main doors and finding them locked.

"We received a call that there were signs an android had been assaulted in this building," he explained. The look of surprise followed by understanding on your face made him pause. "Do you know anything about this?"

You shook your head once and then tilted it slightly in thought. "I saw someone leaving the warehouse about an hour ago. He was on his phone, do you think he made the call?" you ask.

"I don't know, but since you saw something I'd like you to tell Hank what it was."

You agree, running back into the coffee shop to inform your manager what was going on and then join Connor over by Hank's car. Hank joins you two as soon as he does his own sweep of the building and surrounding area, slight disappointment on his face.

“Hey kid, how're ya?” Hank's voice is it's usual gruff tone as he asks, and you can already feel the smile forming on your face.

“Oh, y'know, better now that I've had my second cup of coffee and my two favorite officers are here.”

Hank rolls his eyes. "Eh, I always said you put too much sugar in the coffee." Hank's smile negates the bite to his words.

You take a look at the two. Despite the fact Connor is an android, there was one time when you asked Connor where his dad was and he said Hank was sleeping off a hangover. You never let him live that down, but you also never told Hank about it either, much to the rk800's relief. You think the father-son relationship fits the two to a “T”, as they say.

Connor breaks you out of your daze by speaking, switching to his more professional demeanor. “Could you tell us what you remember seeing?” The duo stare at you expectantly.

"Oh, yeah. I was on my way to work," you explain, indicating the coffee house down the block. "I saw someone leave through that window and make a call." You press your lips together for a moment, then you point down the alley he had gone. "He went that way. He seemed upset by something, frustrated maybe?" You shrug apologetically.

"That lines up with what we know," Hank affirms. He looks at Connor.

You don't understand, why would the man leave. Was he involved? Was he reporting his own crime? Did he get spooked and run off? Was he afraid he would be incriminated for finding this scene? And why was he even breaking into the warehouse in the first place? Your head hurt.

"He looked so familiar," you say. Both men look at you quickly, and you frown. "I wish I knew why though. I've been wracking my brain since I saw him, but I just...I don't know. I'm sorry," you say, looking at Connor. It's clear you are upset, even annoyed over not being able to help more than that. Connor puts his hand on your shoulder and smiles at you softly.

"It's alright, you've already been a great help," he assures you. You smile up at him, feeling your stomach flip a little. Hank stares at the two of you, the overly long contact and staring contest that you are having, shaking his head a little.

“You can head back to work, _____. We'll be around for bit." Hank states, drawing both your and Connor's attention. The latter withdraws his hand from your shoulder and steps back quickly. Hank hands you a card, a cursory glance telling you it has his number and extension on it. "If you think of anything, give us a call." You nod, telling them that you would, and after a brief farewell they leave you to return to work.

Connor and Hank make it back to the precinct an hour after their investigation is stalled, not finding anything that would push them in the proper direction. Nobody knows who the man is, and there's no fingerprints left behind, only a cotton material suggesting gloves and some traces of thirium on them. The two discuss it for awhile with some other officers but none of the rumors they dig up correspond with what's been found.

Hank whistles, rocking in his desk chair as Connor sits across from him staring at the computer monitor. “It's a shame she couldn't recall who this mystery man is,” Connor starts, ruffling up the front of his hair.

Connor is visibly upset, and it has Hank snorting, turning to look at him. “Connor, she's a bright young woman. She's probably just nervous trying to talk to you among other company.”

Connor tilts his head, sensor yellow as he thinks through what Hank just said. Does he mean because he's an android? He knows his conversational skills aren't the best, seeing as he still relies on most of his social programming for that. He has noticed the way you react to his presence, always going out of your way to start a conversation with him.

You're always so talkative when it's just the two of you, giving him compliments and smiling brightly when he returns with what he admires about you, so why—

“Oh.” He didn't think about that being a reason for your actions.

“Finally got it, did ya? Looks like I'll be buying Chris some drinks tonight.” Connor tries to ask about what Hank was talking about but he says a goodbye and something about needing to go feed Sumo dinner.

Alone with his thoughts Connor tries to figure out what to do, now in an entirely different conundrum than before. Perhaps if he visited you at your residence he could go over what you saw again, or at least confirm what Hank told him. Decision made he grabs his jacket off his own chair and leaves the precinct, deep in thought.


It's as you're settling down for another episode of your favorite cooking show that you get the knock on your door, late into the night. You don't usually have visitors this late at night so as a precaution you grab the aluminum baseball bat and look through the peephole as another knock sounds.

You grin as you see who it is, setting the bat down and opening the door to reveal Connor, who returns your smile. “May I come in?”

“What's the magic word?” you giggle as his brow furrows, trying to scramble for an answer.

“Is it fucking password?” He says this so hesitantly you're not sure if he's being serious, but with the way he's staring expectantly at you you can't help but double over laughing at his attempt.

“It isn't, but that was so funny you get a pass.” He steps inside and immediately slips his shoes off, following you to the couch where your show is paused. He'd feel bad for interrupting your rest and relaxation, but he's come here on a mission.

“So, what brings you to my abode on this dreary night? Don't suppose you're here for me, are you?” You stay standing next to the couch so he does as well, not wanting to assume anything.

“Maybe,” a smile flashes on his face before he continues, “Or perhaps I was wondering if you have figured out who the familiar looking man is.”

You gasp, glancing up at Connor before shuffling over to your bookcase by the TV, bending down to the bottom shelf to pick out a worn looking book. “I had completely forgotten about that! He's from my high school, that's how I know him. I think I still have his number in my phone, if he hasn't switched it by now.” The book doesn't reach Connor's hands though, you merely set it on an end table in his sight, but that's not what has his attention.

It's only now that he notices how dressed down you are. A pair of short shorts and a thin tank top, clearly well loved, are the only things covering your form.

On his way over, the feelings Hank hinted that you had for him had him reviewing his own feelings for you. He never really had an explanation for why he felt differently about you than Hank or anyone else he considered his friend. He'd only just realized what these feelings were as he pulled up to your apartment, so it wasn't hard to figure out what he was feeling now. So this was arousal. He felt warmer, and perhaps a tad guilty, but he'd be lying if the feeling didn't send a thrill through his body.

You snapping your fingers in front of his eyes startles him from his staring, and the smirk you level at him has him metaphorically sweating. “Your staring makes me wonder if you really came here for the case, or to oogle me.”

His eyes shoot straight upwards and to the side, making it seem like the TV is the most interesting thing in the world, which isn't true; he was caught staring and it flusters him a bit, a blush rising to his cheeks. “N-no, I was simply thinking about something. I'm curious about something I think you know the answer to.”

“And what would that question be?” you ask.

“One I think you already know the answer to,” he hums, your steadily increasing heart rate and fidgeting has him all but confirming what Hank had alluded to earlier that day.

“Well you're no fun,” and Connor isn't quite sure what to think of that, it feels like he's missing something here.

“I’m not quite sure I understand what you're saying,” he responds with, his brow furrowed in confusion. You're surprised at how clueless he's being, but now that you're alone you might as well make that move you've been too scared to make while in public.

Connor watches as you step closer, a smirk growing on your face as you stop, close enough he can feel the heat radiate from your body. “Well Connor….there are ways, and there are ways, to getting the answer you want from someone. I was just hoping you'd be here for the fun way,” and you sigh, glancing up to his face as you say this.

But now that you're looking at him like that, and he knows your intentions, he'd be embarrassed to admit he likes the idea. That, and you're about two very thin layers away from being naked, and that gets his thirium pump working double time, a sweat breaking out on his temple as a means to cool his systems down.

You're still not saying what he wants to hear from you, to confirm his hypothesis. He thinks he might have to do things your way if you're not going to give up the information as easily as he first thought.

He smiles, then, seeing your pupils dilated more than before, your breath starting to pick up and become more shallow. He can't hold himself back as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

He pulls back as you gasp for air, his other hand reaching up and brushing your lips, watching in fascination as you close your mouth and suck lightly. “I like to believe I'm quite exciting to be around; look at how I've already gotten you so excited just from a kiss,” and he withdraws his hand from your mouth, a string of saliva connected between the two.

You're surprised, almost comically so, as he does the one thing you didn't expect from him. You didn't know he felt the same way. It pleases you, a toothy grin replacing the smirk you had before. You shimmy out of his grip as you push him down onto the couch. He offers no resistance as he falls onto it, looking up to you expectantly.

The next thing Connor knows is that you're straddling his lap, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for a kiss, hot breath and tongues mingling. He doesn't notice until you're tugging once again that you've managed to undo his tie, and he leans back so you can pull it over and off his neck.

One of his hands settles on your rear as you catch your breath, face mere inches from Connor's. He scans your face, for what you don't know, before he settles for looking you in the eyes. “I have a…. proposition, if you will.” Your brows raise in curiosity, but make no attempt to stop him, so he continues. “You'll tell me what we both know the answer to my question is, what you're not telling me, if I can make you scream my name.” He looks pleased as you scoff and pull back, trying to find any sort of deception in his eyes.

“And what if I don't scream your name, hm?” You cross your arms over your chest, indignant at his little bet. He hums in thought as you wait, impatient and wanting to continue.

“Then you'll still enjoy the benefits of me trying my best to make you. Well?” he asks, and you don't even think about it as you quickly nod in confirmation. He grabs your arms and pins them to your sides, frowning. “No. I want to hear you say it.”

You start a little at his sudden forcefulness, not wanting to admit just yet that it excited you. “Yes,” you spit out, and as soon as you've said it he has your hands behind your back and in cuffs. “Wha—” His downright lustful grin has you stopping mid sentence, as he picks you up from his lap and carries you all the way to your bedroom. He drops you on the bed after edging the door open with his foot, a huff escaping you.

He slowly makes his way to the side of your bed, watching you like a lion would its prey, a shiver making its way up your spine at the thought. With his lightning reflexes he has you uncuffed and then cuffed to the headboard, arms spread behind you but not uncomfortably so. You'd smile at him being so considerate, but you're holding your breath in anticipation of his next move.

Connor's stopped to admire you, ruffled hair and lidded expression making him want to wipe that look off your face. He wants you to be completely wrecked by the end of this, your only thought that you had gotten that way because of him. He tilts his head as you raise your brows in question, tugging on the cuffs lightly.

“I have to wonder what's prompted this change in demeanor of yours, it's almost like—” you gasp as Connor is suddenly on the bed hovering over you his lips brushing yours as he makes his way to your ear, teeth scraping ever so gently against it. You exhale shakily feeling the grin he makes, the low tone that he uses to whisper into your ear thrilling in it's own way.

“With the way you're reacting, there's really no guess that'd I'd be able to make you scream,” he pauses, pressing feather light kisses on the area just behind your ear, “but if I make you beg, beg until you're willing to tell me what it is I want the answer to, then perhaps I'll let you scream my name as I have my way with you.” He chuckles as his sensors tell him your breathing has picked up substantially, heart rate spiking as if you're running a marathon. He looks you in the eyes though, a hand coming up to grip your chin and make you stare into his own. “If you need me to stop though, if it's too much, just say 'witness’. Understand?”

You nod but Connor sighs and brings his mouth down upon your throat to graze his teeth on it, tongue flicking out to chase the pressure he leaves. “I want you to say it. Tell me you want this, _____.” You whimper as he pulls back and leaves you wanting more, already so needy for his touch.

You voice wavers and cracks as you speak, but the embarrassment is overridden by the need to have him keep doing things to you, your legs clenching with the desire that's pooling in your abdomen. “Ah, y-yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, before backing up off of you and undoing his jacket, laying it on the end table next to your bed as he then unbuttons his work shirt placing it right on top of his jacket. He spreads your legs as he adjusts himself, one thigh pressing against your core but not letting you rub against him.

He leans back down and continues his ministrations upon your neck, kissing and biting a path to your collarbone then your shoulder. His rougher bites make you wince, but you moan as soon as the rush of pleasure hits you. You know you'll have marks tomorrow morning, but for now you're only focused on how good it feels.

His hands stray downwards, brushing against your breasts and ghosting his way down to your shorts, your breath coming out in short quick huffs; the smile never leaving his face as he toys with the clasp on them.

You're tense as he slowly undoes your shorts, the kiss making you gasp as his lips part your own, tongue delving in to tangle with yours. He eagerly swallows the moan you emit when he reaches into your shorts and works you up through your underwear, already damp from your need.

You pull back for air, Connor continuing to rub against your core until you're making little moans and broken words. It's when you're getting louder and your hips start moving into his hand that he stops, a choked whine escaping you.

He replaces his hand with his thigh pressing against you once more and pushes your shirt up, licking his lips as he sees how hard your nipples are. You look down as he plays with your breasts, one in his mouth and flicking it with his tongue as the other is massaged and pinched with his hand. His hair is messed up more than before, that perfect curl joined by other strands of hair framing his face. He looks up when you shift, trying to grind against his thigh as your edge fades.

Your face is covered in upset, his work on your breasts not enough to keep you going. You keep quiet as he crooks a brow at you, the silent question hanging in the air as you pant lightly. His mouth leaves your breast with a wet pop, the lewd noise doing nothing for you as Connor kisses and bites a trail down you stomach, muscles spasming as he makes the action almost feel like he's tickling you. His breath is almost too hot as he does this, making you think he's beginning to overheat. He doesn't say anything though, nothing to indicate he needs a break, or that he needs to cool down.

Connor doesn't try to make things slow and agonizing for you as he all but rips your shorts and underwear off, mouth pressed against your folds and messily licking and twirling his tongue along your entrance and clit. It quickly brings you back up to your edge, you wanting so badly to clutch his hair in your hands and shove him closer but all you manage to do is tug against your restraints and almost chafe your wrists.

He glances up as you begin bucking into his face, your hands gripping the headboard. He revels in your frustrated cry as he stops and removes his face from between your thighs, laughing at the look of betrayal you're glaring at him.

The look on his face, though, has a shiver crawl up your shoulders to your face. He's smirking, a blue flush prominent on his cheeks. The way his hair is tousled and falling on his forehead has you wishing he always looked like this, like he's just come from a photo shoot. He swipes the arousal stuck on his face off while you're staring and licks it off his fingers, your face scrunching up in disgust but also curiosity, because you don't think he would do that if it didn't interest him, or some other reason you can't immediately figure out.

You huff as he sits there for a moment and traces your inner thighs with his fingers, digging in slightly when you try to close them in spite. He hums, raising a brow at you. “You already know for you to get your release, all I need is your answer, the truth. That's all,” but you shut your mouth and cease making noises at that, his smirk only growing larger.

You sigh as he traces kisses along your stomach again, closing your eyes to relish the sensation. You realize it when his fingers dip closer to your folds and teases you, making you grunt in frustration. You want to show him how to make you feel, make him stop his incessant teasing and make you feel better than you already are, but that would mean giving up; you aren't that desperate. Yet.

He finally dips one finger into you continuing to tease, but all it feels like is torture compared to what he's been doing moments before. He experiments a bit before finding out how to make you squirm and moan out, whispers of “please, more,” slipping past your lips before you can catch yourself. He surprises you by slipping in a second finger, his tongue joining to lap at your core.

But he's working so slow.

You squirm and thrust your hips into his fingers but he stops you with his other hand, gripping your hip almost bruisingly. You try to keep quiet, to make it seem like you're not being affected as much as you are, but he's just so good at this. Your only thought is that he's downloaded some sort of manual on the topic, because so far he's been acting like a total pro.

Connor glances up while he's working his tongue on you, your face wavering in conflict. He knows you're reaching your breaking point, your chest heaving and heart rate even higher than before. Your nails are actually digging so hard into your palms you're drawing blood, but it looks like you don't even notice you're doing it. You can't get anywhere while he's moving at a lukewarm pace, keeping you between tipping over and losing that edge completely.

It's painful for you, being pushed to the edge so many times with nothing to show for it. It makes you want to cry, but instead you start begging.

“Please, please Connor…” but Connor doesn't change his pace, just looking up at you raising his brow. You know what he’s conveying in that look, for you to say what you want. You want him to fuck you, but his fingers slow down and his tongue is removed from your clit. You can tell he's committed to the bet, he's willing to stop altogether if you don't give him what he wants.

You finally break, words jumbled and scattered as you tell him all he wants to know, voice strained. As soon as you finish you're begging, almost sobbing for him to just let you cum; your wrists hurt with how much you're tugging on your restraints, you're sure they've been rubbed a bit raw by now.

“A-ah!” you jolt as his fingers pick up the pace, setting his tongue to work on your clit again. He twirls it and sucks just the way you like, and soon enough he's got you just on the precipice of your release.

But he pulls back; that smug look on his face as he pulls back to look at you making you growl in frustration.

“Why the fuck did you stop?!” you all but scream out. You kept your end of the deal, so why the hell is he flaking out now?

He only shakes his head at you, sitting back to look at your state. “I told you I'd make you scream, _____. And I fully intend to do that,” he winks when all you can do is gape at him, and he deftly shucks his pants off to the ground, making it obvious he was going commando. So much for not wrinkling his clothes.

He unlocks the handcuffs, ordering you to keep a grip on the headboard before he's shifting, teasing your entrance with the tip of his erection. He doesn't tease for long before he's sinking slowly into your heat, letting you wrap your legs around his back, drawing him closer.

You pull him in as close as you can, done with taking things slow. He fills you all the way, hilting until your hips are touching, both groaning at the contact. He feels so good, stretching you and filling you in just the right way.

He he covers your hands with his on the headboard as he sets a brutal pace, pulling out and and thrusting back in, grunting with effort as you cry out and moan, any semblance of thought fleeing your mind as you are fucked senseless.

Connor looks down at you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You pull back quickly enough with your need for air and he feels like he's on cloud nine with how you have been reacting to him so far. Towards the end when he'd seen you looking at him with hazy eyes and disheveled hair, he would have thrown the bet out the window if you had continued to hold out.

He keeps up the pace as you become more vocal beneath him, digging your nails into his hands as much as you can. It actually digs through his skin and breaks away, showing the white plastic underneath. He feels a jolt go through him when he notices, shoving the warning messages popping up aside. He thinks it's uncannily reminiscent of when two androids interface, but he knows that will never be true.

Still, he enjoys the sight immensely and begins bottoming out in your heat, losing his rhythm from the sight of the faux interfacing until he can feel your walls tighten around him, pleas falling from your lips that he muffles with another kiss. “Say my name, I want you to remember who's making you feel this way as you let go,” he whispers, moving one hand to rub at your swollen clit.

“It—ah, it's you, C-connor!” you scream out, your release rolling through you as Connor keeps up with your aftershocks, following shortly after with a a groan. He gingerly pulls out, already missing the feeling of your heat.

He unceremoniously flops down next to you, taking your wrists in his as you come down from your high. He has to dismiss several error and warning messages, indicating he was close to overheating. His sweat glands had activated automatically, and he was covered in the artificial liquid, as were you.

He rubbed your wrists to induce regular blood flow, help them feel better as you sigh and cuddle him. “Why didn't you show your feelings earlier?” he inquires, and you just yawn and stretch as finishes with your wrists.

“I've been waiting for an opportunity to make my move on you, but everybody was always getting in the way. This was the only time an opportunity presented itself, and I rolled with it.” Connor hums, and you continue as you run your hands through his messy hair. “I didn't realize you would visit, but it certainly turned out in both our favors.”

He just shakes his head. He can't say he didn't enjoy this, but if it had been anyone else he would have just left. “I suppose I should be glad Hank told me what he did, or else I would never have known what to ask.” He looks like he's upset about this as he says it, but the look disappears after a moment. He turns to you, fingers brushing up and down your torso, lost in thought.

Before he leaves you discuss some things, and you actually convince him to try something like this again, but you call it “roleplay”. He'll queue that into his search online later, but for now he has to give you a brief kiss goodbye before cleaning up and heading back to the precinct.

Connor tells you later that he closed the case, your info about the man led to finding him and that they actually helped him discover and close down an illegal android kidnapping/resetting ring that was right under their noses.

He knows he already gave you gratification for your assistance, but he feels like he'll have to thank you again, this time no ulterior motive.

Chapter Text

Not a new chapter! Sorry I've just been, not here! I don't want to ramble and make excuses on how college is giving me less time to write, because honestly I could fit in time for it on the weekends.

Long and short of it is the living conditions I find myself in here at college are so disgusting (I'm a germaphobe, because of course) I find myself thrown into an even deeper depression than the previous semester. All that inspiration to write stuff for DBH is almost non-existent, and I'm just struggling to try and find my grove again.

I will not be abandoning this series of one-shots though! Eventually I'll continue writing, hopefully in the near future. Thanks for reading this if you continued past the "not a chapter" or "update" phrases, and hope you all have a nice day or night. :)

Chapter Text

Another day, another criminal to book as they scream profanities at you. Most of them anti-android, once the man sees the blue circle spinning on your temple. 


"Tin Can!" Reed yells at you, making you halt and turn towards him with the criminal in tow. You want to continue walking since you respond to Connor not "Tin Can", but you know he'll keep pestering you until he gets what he wants.


"Yes, Detective? May I help you with something?" Reed stomps up to you and snatches the cuffed man out of your grip, and gets so close you can see the dark circles under his eyes and smell the coffee on his breath. He grimaces, then uses his free hand to dig in his pockets and shoves folded papers into your chest, forcing you to grab hold of them before they fall to the ground as he steps away. 


"Get those done before lunch; I already have enough shit to deal with around here, can't see why they don't just hoist everything onto you to work on instead." Before you can even question what he means, Reed walks away with the criminal towards the holding cells. You open up the wad of papers to discover he's delegated you to sorting through files on the database. Your brow quirks in annoyance; he could have gotten these done within the hour. Why he keeps seeing fit to throw task after task onto your desk is beyond you, but you move to do exactly what he wants. 




You're standing in the break room with Hank and chatting with him as he has his lunch when Reed turns the corner and sees you two. Even at the distance he's at it's all too clear how angry he looks as he makes a beeline for you. 


Hank rolls his eyes and whispers something entirely confusing to you in your ear before he steps out of the way of Reed's warpath. You turn to square off against Reed as he stops right before you, huffing a little before gaining some semblance of composure. 


For the next couple minutes or so Reed tears into you in front of what amounts to be the entire precinct on the proper way to complete the work he gives you and you can only stand there as he frays on your nerves, like he's been doing the entire day. At the end of one sentence you interrupt him by raising your hand in a placating gesture. 


Surprisingly he stops, and arches a brow at you to do whatever it is you're going to do. With what Hank whispered to you on your mind you give Reed the best sneer you can possibly muster, channeling the anger that's been festering under the surface on how he's been treating you ever since you first started working here. 


"I'M GOING TO MCFUCKING LOSE IT IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE HELL UP, RIGHT NOW. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR ATTITUDE EVER SINCE I GOT HERE, AND IT STOPS RIGHT NOW," you finish, and as you glare at Reed all you can see is the irate confusion plastered upon his face. You don't give him a chance to respond as you briskly walk out of the break room and towards your desk, Hank's laughter following your exit. 


Everyone in the precinct is too stunned to understand what just happened, and Reed even more so. You think you hear Hank asking Reed if he's okay and something about a "war flashback", but you're too engrossed in your work to understand what that means, so you file it away for later. 


A while after the "incident", as you're calling it, people are stopping by Hank's desk like he has the answers to everything. They only speak to him in whispers, and if Detective Reed gets close they separate and pretend that nothing suspicious is going on. 




Hank has informed you of what's happening as soon as you overhear Miller using the same form of speech you used on Detective Reed. Another "meme", as Hank puts it. You watch the detective as Hank's plans are put in motion, a grin on your face. 


Lewis and Chen use the meme on Reed. He's confused, but doesn't call them out on it. Collins corners the detective as he's trying to use the bathroom and does the same thing, but Reed scoffs in disgust and pushes him out of the way before he can get any more quips in. 


You can tell the detective is at his wits end by the almost crazed look on his face as every single officer, even Captain Fowler, has spoken to him in meme format. Once Captain Allen uses the meme on him, he breaks. 


"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT! I DIDN'T BECOME A DETECTIVE JUST TO BE ASTRAL PROJECTED BACK INTO MIDDLE SCHOOL," he shrieks, grabbing his coat and storming out of the building, a "MCFUCK YOU ALL. FUCK!" being let loose by him before the doors close. 


Everyone busts out laughing, Hank slapping you on the back and grinning ear to ear. "Well, I'd say that's the most fun anyone has had pranking Mr. Stick-up-his-ass in a long while." You'd agree, but this is the first you've ever really seen a "prank" in action. 


Before you and Hank head back home, Hank turns back to everyone milling about in the precinct. "Remember guys, this never happened! Reed comes into work tomorrow and asks about it, it was a fever dream or some shit," Hank states as you both make your way out of the building. 




You didn't work the day after that, but Hank tells you Reed got increasingly more paranoid the more people denied what happened the day before. He apparently had a nightmare about it too, which made Hank crack up telling you about the day. 


Hopefully this will teach the detective not to mess with someone that has the "power of memes" on his side, as Hank puts it. Story for another day, you suppose.