A stumble, rough hands grasping at soft skin. A moan, another stumble, back against the wall, and then the bed, and then the floor.
And then there was a persistent ringing. Gavin groaned, snatching his jacket and grabbing his phone. A single name, RK900. Cursing, he ended the call and tossed his phone.
“You good?” Deondre looked up from his spot between Gavin’s legs, eyes half-lidded and lust-filled.
“Yea, yea, just junk,” Gavin muttered, grabbing a hold of Deondre and pulling them together in a rough kiss.
And then there was more persistent ringing.
“For fuck’s sake,” Gavin snapped. They broke away, allowing Gavin to grab his phone. He declined the call, but it started back up again. Decline, again. Decline, again. Cursing more, he put his phone on silent and buried it back in his jacket.
“That’s some persistent spam caller,” Deondre quipped amusingly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his long locks.
“I may or may not be ignoring my work partner,” Gavin laughed. “Fucking creep.”
“Ooh, you not a fan?”
“Hell no, he’s a creepy bastard. An android incapable of deviancy, apparently.” Gavin rolled his eyes at that.
“That’s weird,” Deondre agreed. “Completely incapable?”
Gavin nodded. “Supposedly… now, where were we?”
“No idea,” was the reply, as Deondre made to pull on a pair of pants. Gavin mirrored his movements before cautiously making his way to the front door of Deondre’s small house.
“Here,” Deondre said, holding out a pistol to Gavin. “You’re, uh, probably a better shot.”
Gavin quirked an eyebrow but nodded, turning back to the front door… just in time to see it swing open. “Fuck!” He raised the gun, aiming directly at the tall intruder.
“Detective,” came a familiar, impassive voice. Gavin could have choked.
“Holy shit,” Deondre breathed, taking in the form of RK900 standing in his doorway. “I see what you mean.”
“What the fuck, you goddamned Terminator? Take a hint and leave me the fuck alone! It’s my day off!”
“Detective, we are needed for a case.” Ice blue eyes shifted to take in the form of Deondre, and something momentarily flickered across RK900’s face before he quickly looked away. “It is in relation to one of our open cases.”
“Fucking fuck!” Gavin cursed, running a hand through his hair. He turned back to Deondre, leveling the man with an apologetic stare. “Rain check on the morning sex?”
Deondre let out a breathy laugh, but nodded. “I’m free next weekend,” he replied, a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.
Gavin turned back to RK900, gaze turning into a hard glare. “Let me get dressed, you fuck, and then we’re going.”
“Lawsuit payout,” came the stoic reply. Gavin grumbled – he remembered the lawsuits leveraged against the ex-CEO and ex-staff of Cyberlife, something to the tune of just over a billion dollars. A lot of androids got a hefty payout. Apparently RK900 was included in that, though why, Gavin wasn’t sure.
Gavin turned back to the crime scene – a shitty house in a shitty neighborhood in a shitty part of town. Supposedly the victim was part of both the illegal gambling ring and the red ice ring that had been accidentally uncovered. No apparent ties to the bodies washing up in the river, though.
They made their way up the front steps and into the entryway, Gavin immediately almost gagging at the overwhelming smell - sweet rot mixed in with burnt red ice fumes.
Ben Collins turned to greet the pair, his t-shirt pulled up over his nose. “Hey Gavin,” he eyed RK900 warily, “this one’s a fucking doozy. Guy seems to have only been dead a coupl’a hours but he had his heat on blast.”
“Thanks,” Gavin managed, a hand covering his mouth and nose. He looked over to the body, only slightly surprised by the amount of decomp – but, of course, heat did that. The smell was making his head swim, his prior inebriation wearing off to fade into what would definitely become a killer hangover. Fucking hell, he was supposed to be spending his Sunday in bed and recovering, not at a goddamn crime scene.
RK900 stepped up to the body, crouching down next to it, analyzing. Gavin apprehensively stepped up behind him, jaw clenched tight, doing his best not to gag. “Bullet wound to the head; it is not self-imposed, but the scene is made to look like it,” the android spoke, gesturing to the gun in the vic’s hand. “Time of death is estimated to be 9:30pm, Saturday night.”
RK900 stood, looking around the scene further. Gavin only blearily nodded, trying to focus on anything else but the roiling of his stomach. Yea, this was not going to end well.
“Traces of red ice around the victim’s nose are older, and the paraphernalia around the scene looks to be undisturbed for hours. The victim was either not high at the time of death, or more likely coming down from a high. Red ice users tend to be more aggressive coming down from a high, which would explain the possibility of a fight breaking out. Toxicology should be able to give more information.”
Gavin continued nodding, but his hearing was beginning to tunnel, the rush of blood and his pounding heart-rate the only things he could really focus on. The scent, fuck, the scent, and his head was spinning; the actions of the prior night were settling in with a vengeance – too much dancing, too many shots, some great rough sex, the slow slide from inebriation to hungover, and, and, fuck. He was going to puke.
RK900 was mid-sentence when Gavin shouldered past him, barreling out of the living room, into the kitchen, out through the back door to the shitty back-deck, before finally stumbling down the few steps. He was folded over and retching before the android even had time to fully reconcile the turn of events.
RK900 followed quietly, a pang of… something? resonating in his chest cavity. He stepped down next to Gavin, hesitating a moment before reaching out. One hand found the small of his back and the other landed on his upper arm, attempting to steady the smaller man. He was shaking so bad, RK900 was barely able to keep his hand still. Gavin, meanwhile, was worried about vibrating out of his damn skin.
He remained hobbled over, gagging and spitting, his entire body rebelling against him. He was acutely aware of the presence next to him, of hands on him, and it certainly couldn’t be Collins ‘cause he was a known sympathy puker (Gavin had witnessed it first-hand, unfortunately, when a victim got ill and Collins followed short). Whatever, it didn’t matter; the hands against him were tender and soothing and grounding.
However, they pulled away abruptly, before something warm and heavy was draped over his shoulders and back. Gavin’s shuddering slowly stilled, mostly. He continued to spit for a few moments, desperately trying to clear his mouth of the taste of regurgitated alcohol, before something caught his eye – a brisk whiteness.
He all but bolted up, grabbing at the jacket that engulfed him. Stark white, a bit of black, and Cyberlife blue. Gavin turned, only to see RK900 standing in his high-necked black button up, jacket currently resting around Gavin's shoulders. The android shifted – nervously? – before bringing his hands ups defensively. “Apologies, Detective.”
“W-what?” Gavin cringed at how his hoarse his voice was.
“I do not have much in the way of protocols when it comes to situations like this. I merely acted on what seemed natural. If I have overstepped, I apologize for that as well,” RK900 continued, bowing his head, looking flustered. Fuck, what? He didn’t have emotions!
Gavin shook his head, subconsciously gripping the jacket tighter around him.
“Allow me to take you home, Detective. You are in no shape to be at a crime scene – a fact I failed to realize,” RK900 continued, eyes flashing. Gavin wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he knew he was in no position to act – no use in having him still half-drunk and out-of-wits at a crime scene. Especially no use in having him throwing up all over said crime scene.
RK900 simply placed a hand on the small of Gavin’s back and guided him back to the front porch, where they met up with Collins once more. Gavin froze, glancing out, thankful to see press and onlookers dissipated. Before he could speak up, RK900 broke the silence.
“Apologies, Detective Collins. Detective Reed is feeling unwell and I am going to assist in getting him home,” he spoke, voice softer than normal. Collins’ eyes shifted nervously between RK900 and Gavin.
Gavin merely shrugged, offering, “you tell anyone about this and I tell everyone ‘bout the time you almost puked on a victim,” with a snarky grin. Collins offered a hasty chuckle and waved them off.
“I’ll update the case file with my findings; there is not much else here other than to perform a thorough sweep of the entirety of the residence. Another officer can handle that easily,” RK900 called over his shoulder, already guiding Gavin to the passenger seat of his slick Audi.
Gavin sunk into it, thankful for the brief reprieve, pulling the jacket around him just a touch more. RK900 slid into the driver seat, starting the car almost immediately. “Do you require more warmth, Detective?” he questioned, his voice still soft. Something inside of Gavin panged almost painfully as he shook his head. “Very well, please inform me if that changes.”
And just like that, they were on the road to Gavin’s apartment building. Silence lingered between them, the only background noise that of the quite hum of the electric vehicle and very soft classical music.
“Detective,” came RK900’s voice, eyes fixed on the road as he drove, his posture surprisingly relaxed. “I apologize for… interrupting, earlier. You were not answering your phone, and when I pinged it at an unknown location, I became… worried.”
Gavin glanced at RK900 in slight shock, eyes widening. “Worried?” he breathed out, tilting his head to get a better look at RK900. The android's face remained impassive, but something flickered in those eyes.
“Yes,” was the only reply. RK900’s posture shifted slightly, becoming just a touch more rigid. His LED faded slowly between blue and yellow, circling almost carefully.
Gavin let out a breath and settled into his seat. “S’fine,” he muttered, quietly, “I was shirking my responsibilities. I’ll make it up to De.”
“Is De your… romantic partner?”
Gavin spluttered and laughed. “Fuck no, I haven’t had a real relationship since-“ he choked, snapping his teeth together. Taking a moment to steady himself, he continued. “No, no, he’s just someone I met while I was out last night.”
“… I see…”
“Why do you care?”
And RK900 shrugged. Fucking shrugged. Gavin gaped again, startled, watching as whatever was dancing around those ice blue eyes disappeared and the almost dead-eyed glaze took over. Robotic. He shuddered involuntarily.
The rest of the ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence, and Gavin was so fucking thankful as RK900 pulled into the underground garage of his complex.
“Just pull up to the elevators,” he muttered.
“Do you not wish for me to accompany you to your apartment?” The voice was monotonous again. Gavin flinched.
“Fuck no,” he bit out, squaring his shoulders. RK900, thankfully, did as told and pulled up to the elevator. Gavin was quick, up and out of the door, dropping RK900’s jacket on the seat. “Uh, thanks,” he muttered lamely, before slamming the door shut and turning to the elevator.
Gavin tried to ignore the fact that the Audi lingered behind him, hesitating until he stepped into his elevator, only driving away as the doors began to slide shut. He slumped against the wall, bracing himself against the handrail.