Chapter Text
When Gavin Reed walked into the precinct this morning, he was expecting the usual. The Breakroom was almost empty of breakfast and coffee, busy officers rushing around, papers rustling with quick hands, and fast typing of the loudest keyboards in history. What he couldn’t figure out was why a second Connor was sitting across from his desk.
“The fuck you doing here?” Gavin was already in a shitty mood since he ran out of his morning savior today, his holy fucking grail, Coffee.
“Detective Reed, I was waiting for you to show up.” The fuck? Why would this plastic asshole be expecting, no waiting for him?
“I- who the fuck are you? Why are you sitting across from my desk?” Why was this good-looking Connor copy here, literally anywhere near here?
Before the plastic asshole could speak again, Fowler called him to his office, “REED, RK900 GET IN HERE”
So its name, or model number (?) RK900.
RK800.
RK900.
Gavin started connecting the dots. This fucking double vision doppelganger was Connors better version. His upgraded model mademost likely for detective work, and apparently to absolutly fuck with Gavin.
What the fuck.
Walking into Fowler's office they both just stand there, Gavin upset and noticeably so. His foot was tapping, back slouched down, leg bent to balance himself, face in a scowl, and fists shoved fully in his pockets. The fucking android looking as poised as ever, arms behind its back, and face a slate of nothing. No movement. Just waiting patiently. Something Gavin could never do.
“Fowler why the fu-” Fowler shoots him a look to shut him up, “Reed this is RK900 and as of now your partner. Hank and Connor have been too backed up with android cases.” Gavin stares wide-eyed and jaw-slacked. “The fuck you know I-”
“Can-it, Reed. You will be taking over some of Hank and Connor's cases, as well as having RK900 as your partner as it’s preferred any Detective taking on Android cases must be accompanied by an Android for safety, and you better stay in line, Reed, or else you’re fired. Do you understand?” Fowler really wasn’t joking. He’d have to work with this hunk of metal AND have to pick up Hank and Connor's work all because they couldn’t catch up. Great.
“Fine, but if this thing gets returned to the DPD in scraps, don’t come blaming me.” He turns to leave the office with RK900 following a little too close behind. “You couldn’t even dream of touching me Detective, effectively impossible to hold true to your empty threat.” Why that motherfucking- “You wanna fucking bet Tin-can?” Gavin goes to reach for his gun, having been pissed off enough for the morning.
A clack of his gun can be heard a few feet away, and his wrist pops with how fast it had been grabbed. The fucking droid locks his hands above his head and slams him against the closest desk. Thank fuck no one was using it right now.
“The fuck Tin Can let me fucking go-” He tries to free himself from the painful grip… to no avail. What a surprise. “Detective, what did I warn you about? Might I suggest you not be hostile towards me or else you may be stuck on desk duty with a broken wrist.” The grip on his wrists tightened at the threat, the RK900 was far too close and it had the nerve to whisper everything in his ear.
Letting Gavin go and straightening out it’s jacket, “Now, I believe we have a few cases to go over Detective.” and walks away. Gavin sits there unable to breathe. The android had left Gavin Reed speechless. Shaking.
After taking his time in the bathroom, probably a lot longer than needed, but hey who the fuck was gonna tell him to get back to work right after that. Giving himself time to come back from the edge of anger and anxiety, the tremble of his hands lessens, and his chest begins lightening up on its restrictive hold. Gavin heads back to his desk clinging tightly to his jacket, noticing the droid walking towards him. He almost flinches when that plastic hand shoots up, but it’s- “Coffee?”
“Yes, I did not want to start on such a hostile note, Detective. I figured this may help to make a good impression, though I suppose that chance is over.” Jesus H. Christ, “Why the fuck would I accept it, you probably poisoned it or somthin’.” The face he saw after that was, strange, RK900 was frowning? It was hard to tell. “You could find out if I took the time to acquire and use a poison, or you could get yourself a new coffee Detective. I didn’t mean to frighten you this morning.”
Placing the Coffee cup on his desk the android walks back around and sits at his own desk. Gavin doesn’t say anything knowing the fucking consequences now. He sits and zones out at his desk, glancing over at the hunk of plastic across from him. Then to the Coffee.
If he accepted the peace offering he’d be accepting defeat. But fuck he needed a boost today.
Reaching over to the cup, he takes a small sip. It’s just warm enough to be drinkable, and tastes smooth, velvety, vanilla creamer making the whole thing sweeter. It wasn’t breakroom coffee, where the fuck did he get this?
Gavin wasn’t about to ask the droid but he read his mind, “On my way here.” Huh but how did he know, “How did you even know I drink coffee? And what I like in my coffee? We’ve never met.” Then it hits him, as RK900 was telling him, “Connor was quite intuitive about how I could possibly make a good impression.” Huh well wasn’t that something.
“Well you can tell Connor to fuck off if he thinks he fucking knows me. And don’t expect this to be a regular thing.” Gavins' words were tense but no malice was behind them.
“Of course, Detective.” The thing smirked at him, and holy shit. It wasn’t anything like his predecessor’s smile, whose twitchy quirks look and feel less than human. This Tin Can could kill someone (Gavin) with one look, Icey eyes and slight smile sending a shiver down his spine.
Gavin has to force himself to look away and hope his reaction wasn’t noticeable. Fuck it was an interesting day.
He needed a drink.
The rest of the day had gone alright, meaning he avoided the fucking prick at all costs. Luckily they didn’t have any important cases to investigate yet. The day was to get ‘Acquainted’ with each other. The Prick-900 didn’t interact with him much either, instead staying by Connor. Fucking Eli and his Fucking stupid-looking droids.
Gavin left as soon as he could, and he could feel the droid twins' eyes on him as he left. Fuck off. He rushed to his car, trying to get home as soon as possible. Getting to his beat-up challenger, anxiety he hasn’t felt in years rushes back to shake his bones. His vision getting shaky, deep breaths to try and breathe. Fuck for the second time today, he’s had a sorta panic attack.
“Fuck,” Banging his head on the headrest, “Why the fuck.” A knock on his window startles him.
“Detective, your breathing is irregular, are you alright?” The fucking Tin Can. “Yeah of fucking course I am, fuck off.” And fuck it if the droid isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t say anything else besides, “Get home safely, Detective.” And he walks away, hands behind his back. The fuck he mean by that? Why the fuck did he follow him out?
Gavin just starts his car, fucking, fuck that fucker. Gavin can get home however he wants to. Pulling out of the parking garage and whipping around the exit a bit harsher than he normally does, he starts driving to his apartment.
He just wants to get home to his shity apartment, his asshole of a cat, and to the fucking whisky calling his name.
Shutting his apartment door he moves over to one of his cabinets and grabs a bottle. Not even bothering to grab a glass, he walks over to his coffee table and sets the bottle down. From past experiences, he feeds his cat first, he doesn’t want another claw on his head, then he strips off all his clothes except his boxers with the heat in the apartment.
Flopping down onto the couch and turning on a show, he couldn’t even care less about, just needing some type of noise. He grabs the bottle and starts drinking. Golden bourbon burned its way down his throat, immediately warming his blood.
Drinking as much as he can in his first gulp he sets the bottle down. Why the fuck did it have to be him? Why of all the officers that actually like fucking Androids did it have to be him? Detective asshole, Android hater extraordinaire. He wishes he could have just laid the thing flat, to make up for the time he couldn’t match up to Connor.
“Mrowwww” Soft fur caresses his thighs, “Mia I need some fucking help.” Grabbing his fluffy cat and setting her up on the couch, running his hands through her fur.
Long days called for short nights.
An hour after he had finished off the bottle, he got up and stumbled to his bedroom. Knocking a few leaves off his tall ass plant before finally being able to flop down onto his bed. The warmth and soft sheets already lulling him to sleep.
Mia comes in and lies with him. She probably knows just how fucked his day really was.
Sleep comes over him easier than most nights. But waking up at 4 in the fucking morning was an unwelcome surprise.
Thunder. Rain. Both pounding at his walls. Midnight storms, a fucking curse in his apartment. The noise of rain just gets so loud and not in the calming white noise way.
“Phck” Wiping his eyes and laying out, he knows he won’t be able to sleep anymore. That’s the thing about working in all senses in a job, you can’t just turn it off. Hypersensitive ears make it impossible for him to go back to sleep. Mia rests next to him peacefully unaware of Gavins' ruined night.
At least one of them could rest.
Gavin just decides to work out for an hour and shower, maybe get some food, definitely some coffee, and painkillers.
He ends up running late to work. Food and Coffee plans forgotten.
He somehow got distracted with his angry workout and his shower for an extra hour. Doing nothing in particular, he swears. Still, he rushes into the precinct and sees a brown bag at his desk. “The fuck?” Looking around he spots the tinman in the breakroom making something.
He sits down and reads the bag, almost perfectly cursive-like writing ‘Breakfast, Detective, is the most important meal of the day.’ with a flirty little ‘ ~Rk900’ at the end. Why the fuck would the Terminator get him food? Was this another ploy at an ‘alliance’?
Just then he noticed the coffee sitting beside it. “To make you more, tolerable.” Shit-
“The fuck tincan, don’t just-” The droid just sat down at his desk, acting like he didn’t just give him a heart attack.
“Good morning Detective, you’re approximately 45 minutes late to your shift.” Noticing the mug he set down next to his terminal, a small string hanging from the edge. “Yeah, yeah, doesn’t fuckin’ matter prick. Why the hell did you get me breakfast? I thought I told-”
“You were running late and I decided to not waste my time waiting for you and instead got you something to hopefully improve your mood. Accept it or don’t, It does not matter.” Rk900 takes a sip from the mug. Gavin just sits and ponders. “Thought you droids couldn’t drink or eat human shit?”
“An upgraded model does usually mean there have been modifications. I find I quite enjoy indulging in human necessities. Though I have no real need to, I enjoy savoring the flavoring of everything.” Huh, that's interesting, he’s never seen an android drink anything other than thirium, let alone eat anything. Well whatever, he’s not going to ask a million questions he has about the RK900’s upgrades.
The droids ring light circles yellow, as he sets down his mug. “Detective, we have a case.”