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"Look at them. Actually gonna puke." Gavin stabs a thumb against his neck repeatedly.
Nines stares at his monitor intensely, not actually using it apart from to send the message that he really is not interested in whatever his partner is talking about right now. Nines closes his eyes, composing an email when a loud slurp of coffee breaks his thoughts. One icy eye opens to see Gavin now tapping four fingers along his coffee cup. Then, he slurps from the cup again. Nines finally relents. His auditory components are too effective to ignore the disturbance. "What are you talking about, detective?”
"Just look at the fucking eyes the plastic shit makes at Hank. Are you seeing this?” Gavin throws his arm out in the most dramatic fashion. Nines briefly contemplates turning off his audio processors entirely. "I'd have bet they were already fucking but the old man won't even look at him."
Nines watches as Gavin shakes his head in disbelief. Gavin bites his thumb, sneering. Nines quirks an eyebrow at the way Gavin looks like he's judging a romantic comedy.
"When did you start becoming interested in the sex life of an android?"
"I started giving a shit after I was forced to watch this all day. It's pathetic. You'd think after five years of no 'action' the old fuck would be dying to get laid, but it looks like he'll just be dying, period."
Nines thinks this is rich considering in the nine months since his arrival, he hasn't found any evidence that Gavin was getting any more action than any of the aforementioned individuals. He is 99.8% sure of this analysis, and it wasn't any question as to why, if the shining personality of the detective was anything to go by.
"This is the kind of shit they make you watch when you're tied to a chair and being tortured." Gavin motions at the pair with coffee cup in hand.
Nines turns over to see Connor, and it would be a lie to say he didn’t at least see what Gavin was moaning about. The way Connor’s peeking at Hank through his lashes makes the electricity in his synthskin crawl unpleasantly. Connor seems to get up and walk over to the lieutenant, who finally looks up from the monitor to return a pleasant expression. Connor’s head tilts as he talks. Hank watches intently before returning a nonchalant shrug, relaxed smile on his lips as Connor fluidly turns and heads for the glass doors of the station.
"I'm sure your observations are an invasion of privacy. I doubt the lieutenant will appreciate it, detective."
"It's not privacy if the plastics' mating ritual is on full display. If anything, I'm doing the lieutenant a favour." Gavin lounges back on his chair, before returning to stare at his own monitor, fingernail tapping impatiently on the wooden desk. There’s no typing, so Nines highly doubts the detective is working. A few minutes of silence pass before Gavin lifts himself off the chair with little grace. He swings his arms to loosen his joints.
It’s impressive, really, the way Gavin can make an RK900 unit roll their eyes.
.....
The shadow that casts over Hank is the first indicator of Gavin’s arrival, and Hank is disappointed that Connor isn’t here to fend Gavin off with his obtuse politeness.
“Lieutenant Anderson.” The jovial way Gavin says his name makes the hair on the back of Hank’s neck stand on end. Gavin sits on the desk where Connor usually does, and Hank glares at him like he’s taken up a precious spot. “I see your pet’s left.”
Hank sighs, raising the paper coffee cup to his lips.
“Skip the pleasantries, Gavin. Whaddya want.” The coffee is bitter against his tongue, and Hank vaguely misses the days when he could heap in piles of milk and sugar. Nowadays, when Hank even eyes the sugar longingly, Connor won’t talk to him for the rest of the morning. A fond smile hides behind the coffee cup at the absurdity of it all. So much has changed in so little time.
"When're you gonna let the plastic suck your cock?"
Hank chokes. The slimy man has the audacity to smirk as Hank coughs, hacking at his chest, sputtering coffee onto the desk and keyboard in front of him.
"God, you're such a sick bastard. Why don't you do us all a favour and fuck right off?" Hank says, wiping at the coffee with his sleeve in disdain. "And get Connor's name out of your mouth. I'd never make him do shit."
"C'mon Hank, you're not blind, are you? You don't think the plastic would salivate all over your dick? Maybe you haven't noticed him eye-fucking you on the daily like the rest of us have."
Gavin gags for the extra effect, but Hank stills. To Gavin's chagrin, the lieutenant's eye twitches.
"You're outta your fuckin' mind, you know that?"
"Hello, Detective Reed.” A soft voice speaks out from behind him, and Gavin turns to see Connor, green cup and brown paper bag in hand. "Can I help you?" The android tilts his head, a far-too innocent gesture, as he speaks.
"Yeah. Yeah, you can. Save your mating stare at Hank for the fucking bedroom."
Connor's LED flutters yellow, rapid blinking until his brows furrow.
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about." Connor turns to Hank, excusing himself from Gavin. Hank is doing a whirling motion beside his ear, and Connor's expression lightens. His attention turns back to the lunch in hand, dodging Gavin to place the items in front of Hank. "They didn't have your usual, Lieutenant, so I took the liberties of choosing something that I thought would be beneficial for your gut health."
"God, Connor, is that one of those hippie smoothies again? It's green. That can't be edible."
"It's mango, spinach, coconut water and-"
"It means," Gavin clears his throat, says it loud and obnoxious enough that he cuts Connor off and the pairs' eyes turn on him again. Hank's face is an exasperated grimace, and even Connor is starting to look the slightest bit offended. "We're sick of seeing you two flirt around here. Go deal with your repressed bullshit somewhere else so we can all have some peace, yeah?"
Connor stares, befuddled for a moment, before his LED flickers and he looks at Nines. They blink for a while, their LEDs lighting up the silence, before Connor's gaze turns downward. "Oh..."
"Oh, for God's sake..." Hank mutters, and pushes off the chair in a flurry, snatching the sandwich bag and drink off the desk. "I'm not eating my lunch near this sack of shit. Ruining my appetite. Come on, Connor."
.....
Gavin trots out of the precinct, hands deep in his pockets, Nines following in tow.
“Detective, I fail to see how this is an effective use of our limited time.”
“Haven’t you ever had fun, Nines? Were you born with a stick up your ass? Relax, yeah? Just wanna see Hank sweat.”
“You enjoy meaningless entertainment too much.”
“Hey, it’s the way society is programmed. Just ‘cause you androids don’t need an outlet doesn’t mean we don't need to get off on shitty entertainment. I have choice.”
Nines doesn’t remind Gavin that less than a year ago, androids too were granted choice. It’s a wonder how the detective keeps his job despite the demeaning rhetoric he spews on a daily basis. Nines lets out a breath, watching as Gavin backs up against the wall and peers his head over the corner so he can see into the alleyway behind the station.
Hank is pacing, face a deep red and hands flailing around as Connor stands ramrod straight with his back to them. Gavin can't see his face, but he's sure the android's curious gaze is trained on the lieutenant as always.
"Look.” Hank starts. Stops. Sighs. “Ignore the prick Connor. Don't listen to a thing outta that shit's mouth, you hear me? I'd never make you..." Hank seems to be having trouble getting the next part out. Instead he waves his hand around like he’s writing some mysterious new language in the air. Gavin has never felt so smug about anything in his life. Nines watches him with impassive blue eyes. “... do the kind of thing that pervert is implying. I’m not that kind of guy.”
Connor's eyes are fluttering over Hank, away to the side, back all over Hank again. Honey brown eyes are processing, studying. “Make me?” When he speaks, his voice is so soft Gavin almost can't hear it. "But what if I want to?”
All of a sudden, Gavin's smirk vanishes.
A small what? is only sound Hank can make, and the weakness of the retort seems to spur something within the android.
"And if I want to?" The words are more confident now. Connor is stepping closer to Hank, until he’s backed up against the wall, staring down in… in...
Gavin does not need to see this. He quickly retracts until they disappear from view, shaking his head in disbelief. Beside him, Nines brows are raised in amusement at the rapidly declining situation Gavin finds himself in. Unfortunately, Gavin still has ears.
"I... uh.”
“... Do you want to?”
There’s another drawn silence, but whatever expression Hank makes is apparently enough because the sound of a zip can just be registered. Then, a shuddery breath.
“Wh- wait. Connor. Connor, what are you- wait." Another breath. "Here?!"
“I have waited enough, Lieutenant.” Silence. “Unless you have objections?”
“Y-yeah. I mean, n-no. Not to, no. Not to that, it's just... I want- but- here? Connor- they could- oh... oh, fuck.”
Gavin had severely underestimated the marvel of android tenacity and dedication.
It seemed Connor had made up his mind. It was a signal, clear as day, to leave. Gavin had bitten off more than he could chew and would gratefully fuck off into the ground far enough that he would appear in another country where he could assume a new identity and continue on with life. Gavin knows this, but it’s like standing on the railroad and watching a train come in slow motion. He turns, makes to get the fuck out, when he finds something is hooking onto his shirt. He swats behind him, but it won’t budge. The officer turns around, eyes narrowing.
“Why, you-" Gavin hisses.
“You made your bed, Detective. Lie in it.”
“You perverted plastic prick.”
Nines smirks.
.....
“There you are. Gavin, where are my officers? Why are they all standing around here, like they've got all the time in the world, when we’re up to the neck in cases, huh?”
An incensed Jeffrey Fowler walks out of the swinging doors, before he notices Gavin’s face behind his hand and Nines staring blankly ahead.
“The hell is going on?”
Then, heard but not seen, Jeffrey registers what sounds like a deep guttural groan, a small wet pop, a whispered whine that sounds a little too much like the name of the detroit police department's own missing lieutenant. It echoes out from the alleyway behind the station, and Jeffrey closes his eyes solemnly. He purses his lips, nostrils flaring, breathes in deep and controlled, hands on his hips. Reed uncovers his eyes only barely, so he can meet Jeffrey’s opening ones to exchange the feeling of lifeless camaraderie they both feel in that moment.
“For the record,” Jeffrey speaks slowly, two fingers pointing between the two officers in front of him. “This didn’t happen. I don’t know what is going on, and I’m not gonna know, because this didn’t happen.” He enunciates the last few words, not leaving Gavin’s gaze for a moment.
“I’ll have a word with Hank when whatever the fuck didn’t happen finishes. Get your asses back to work, officers.”
Fowler rubs his temples as Gavin and Nines follow him back into the station.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”