"No- no, Tina, I'm fine, I promise," Gavin says, rubbing his eye with one hand, holding his phone with the other. "I left early because I was just feelin' a bit, uh, under the weather. Don't have any active cases anyway- Nines, uh, he- if we get called in he'll come get me. No- ugh, yeah, I'll fuckin'- I already took two tylenol, I'll deal if I get called in. That's an if. Listen Teens, you know I hate ya, if I have to listen to you talk any more I'll fuckin' yartz. Blah blah blah- yeah I'll sleep soon… Thanks. For checkin' in on me. Uh, see you tomorrow. Yeah."
He throws his phone on the couch, hearing the soft beep of the dial tone. Runs a hand down his face, lets out an exhausted groan.
Today's been a fucking ride, okay? If he had to stay at the precinct, at his desk, around Nines any longer he would have snapped. After that pseudo-conversation with Nines on the roof, he made a break for it, ignoring Anderson and Connor's questioning glances as he stormed out of the building. His phone buzzed a couple of times while he was on the bus- a text from Tina and a text from Nines, both of which he ignored. He only gave in and called Tina because she was blowing up his phone.
Nines had stopped after one text. Gavin isn't sure whether he's relieved or hurt by that.
He just decides not to dwell on that fact.
Fortnite, his black cat with a snaggle tooth and half a brain cell, is screaming at him. A quick glance at the clock tells him it's 4:30, about an hour 'til he gets fed. Around the time Fortnite usually starts yelling at him for food.
Gavin sighs heavily, picking him up. He scratches Fortnite behind the ears, flopping onto his couch. Fortnite seems content, but Gavin knows if he lets up even a little bit the incessant meowing will come back full force. He smiles faintly as his other cat, Spaghetti, hops up and bonelessly lays down on his lap, purring. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on the back of the couch.
He's fucking exhausted.
Not in a I-need-to-sleep way, but the bone-deep, pervasive exhaustion that only comes with weeks of stress. He's used to dealing with this, but not for this reason. He'd never had this reason, before.
Everything about this goddamn situation is an anomaly.
Except the part where he fucked everything up. He supposes that even anomalies have their consistencies.
"What do you guys wanna watch?" he asks his cats, flipping through his selection of movies. They don't reply. Spaghetti can't even hear him- she's deaf. "I swear, if you pick Aristocats again I'll put you up for adoption." He pokes Spaghetti's belly and she mrrps, opening her eyes a bit but not moving an inch. Gavin smiles a little bit.
He'll deal with everything tomorrow. He just wants to get through tonight.
Nines hasn't gotten any work done since Gavin left. He keeps replaying and replaying and analyzing what exactly went wrong, for it to end up like this. Too many things, too many details- he's too… attached to the situation, to draw a clear hypothesis. It frustrates him.
He feels too warm- he's glitching, slightly, a finger twitch here and there, his left eyelid goes on the fritz every so often. Being a prototype, he's come to expect this when stressed or overworked or simply running on low power. But- ugh. It's something you never grow used to.
Connor, Nines calls through their link. At this point, they keep it perpetually open- their job is dangerous enough that it's come in handy more often than not. Plus, it's… comforting, in a way. To know that his brother is there, even if nobody else is. It isn't the same as interfacing; they have to deliberately send something through the link in order for the other to receive it. But there's always a presence.
Connor pings back immediately. You need something?
Nines sends back a confirmation after split second of hesitation.
Alright. Do you want to go to my apartment? I still want to show you my new fish!
Sure. I am ready whenever you are.
Nines waits for Connor to finish up his goodbyes with Hank and some other coworkers that he's grown to have a friendly relationship with. Nines is… envious, he thinks. Of how easy it is for Connor to do things like this. Make friends. Nines himself only has Gavin and sometimes Tina, too, but Gavin usually has to be the middleman in their conversations- she doesn't know sign. Not many of the officers do. And it's an inconvenience, sure, but it's also a wall. A lock on an already barbwired and electrified gate.
He doesn't frown. But his left eyelid goes on the fritz again and several software instabilities pop up, one after another.
He sighs, and he waits.
"I have named him Dip!" Connor says proudly, beaming. Nines is leaning down, cocking his head at the tiny creature in the tank. Carassius Auratus, his scanners tell him. The common goldfish.
… To go with Chips?
"Yes!" Said Trichogaster Lalius, or Dwarf Gourami, is swimming leisurely on the opposite side. "Hank thought it was funny."
I like it as well, Nines says, amused.
"Many people think that goldfish don't live very long, mostly because they keep them in abysmally small tanks that don't have a filter," Connor starts, eyes bright. "The tradition of keeping them in such small bowls started in ancient China, but even then it was supposed to be a temporary way to display them to guests, as the fish were primarily kept in large ponds. They can actually live up to ten years, and grow up to be a foot long! Th-"
Connor cuts himself off. Nines knows if he could blush, Connor's face would be fire-engine red right now. "I was rambling. Sorry."
You know I don't mind.
"Yeah… Yes. I know."
A few moments of silence pass, and Connor straightens up. "Come on. This isn't the only reason you came."
Nines nods, feeling apprehensive. He fiddles with the ends of his sleeves.
Connor leads him to his living room. It's nice. Homey. A couch and two recliners, obtained secondhand. Mismatched, but lived in. Connor takes the recliner; Nines sits stiffly on the couch.
His brother looks at him for a second, eyes searching. "Is this to do with Detective Reed?"
Nines purses his lips. Yes.
"As expected." Connor grins, only a little bit. An attempt to alleviate Nines' anxiety. "He seems to be the only thing you need my help with, nowadays."
Now, that's not entirely true-
"I was teasing you. What's on your mind?"
Nines takes a few moments to gather himself. Picks his words carefully.
… I think I really messed up, Connor.
Connor's brow furrows in concern. "How so?"
I… Several software instabilities pop up, one after another after another. He finds he can't dismiss them faster than they appear. Still, he runs a subroutine that dismisses them as fast as he can. He supposes the closest human approximation to this would be a stress headache. Well. You know what happened two weeks ago.
"Yes… I did tell you to speak to the detective about it." Connor frowns, leaning back in his chair. "Am I to assume the conversation did not go over well?
You could say that. He… Nines trails off. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Holds his arm out, retracts the skin. You can look.
Connor grips his hand without hesitation, skin receding as well. In a few milliseconds The entirety of Nines and Gavin's rooftalk "talk" is transmitted.
Connor takes a few moments to process it, LED spinning yellow. "... That wasn't much a conversation at all."
I know. And I'm afraid all I did was make the situation worse. Nines frowns, LED flashing red. He feels like the ends of every wire in his body is frayed, and all he is electricity, barely contained.
Anxious. He feels genuinely, terrifyingly anxious.
"He said sorry…" Connor mutters, mostly to himself.
Yes. He is blaming himself. And that upset Nines. It's not an emotion he's very familiar with, but he's grown to know it intimately in the past few hours. He feels upset with himself and overwhelmed by his emotions, but most of all he feels guilty.
"You need to talk to him. Have an actual conversation."
Yes. But I… don't know. How.
Connor levels him with an unimpressed look. "And you think I do?"
You are the one with the social programming!
"And you are the one who has worked with Detective Reed for over a year!" Connor counters, and Nines frowns, casting his gaze to the ground. Connor's right. But he- Nines is so out of his element. He's fifty feet deep in a hole of his own making, and he doesn't know how to get out.
Connor's gaze softens. "Go to him. Talk. Be honest- he is the type of man who appreciates that, yes? Lay it all out. This all seems to be a problem of miscommunication. The best thing to do would be to tell him everything." A beat. "I think."
You think?
"You know him better than I do! But this advice is all I can give you." Connor stands and pulls Nines to his feet. He places a hand on Nines' shoulder and looks Nines in his eyes, gaze genuine and open. "I believe in you."
Nines hopes that that belief isn't misplaced
Gavin wakes up to a knock at his door and a pit in his stomach. Not, like, an anxiety pit (though, shit, he's thinking about everything again and God damn he played himself, huh), but- well, he hasn't had anything all day besides four or so cups of coffee. Maybe five; he certainly wasn't keeping count.
A groggy glance at the clock tells him its 5:45 (ah, fuck, I really need to feed Fortnite and Spaghetti, huh)- he's only been snoozing for about 30 minutes, give or take. With a tired groan, he gets up, causing said cats to scatter.
Another knock.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'," Gavin says, grumpily. Probably Tina; she… doesn't have a good reason to come over, but she's the only one Gavin can think of that would.
He stalks over to the door, wrenching it open. "This better be for a good fuckin' reason, I was takin' a n-!"
It's Nines.
They both stare awkwardly at each other. Nines' hand is still poised for another knock on the door. His expression is reminiscent of a deer in headlights, as if he didn't expect to actually get this far.
Oh fuck, it's Nines.
Gavin panics. He closes the door in Nines' face.
"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck!" And shit, goddamn, holy hell, Jesus' balls on a motherfucking stick.
How does he deal with this?
Fortnite meows at him petulantly. Gavin glares and points a finger at him. "Sh! Shhhh! Not helping!"
First order of business: open the door again. Maybe? Is that a good idea?
Probably not! Gavin thinks to himself even as he pulls it open again. Nines is still there, and he's not sure if he's grateful for that or not.
"Y- uh. What do you want. Dipshit."
May I come in?
Gavin decidedly ignores what happened the last time they were in this situation. "I…" Say no. Say no! "Sure. Uh. Yeah. C'mon… in." He steps aside. Nines moves past him and allows Gavin to close the door behind him.
They stare at each other. The tension could be cut with a knife.
Nines starts signing something; Gavin interrupts. "I gotta! Feed! My cats! Uh! I'll be, right back." He runs to the kitchen, leaving Nines where he is.
His hands are shaking as he scoops their food into the bowl. His thoughts race as he tries conceiving a reason why his partner is here, decidedly squashing the more hopeful ones in favor of a more pessimistic, reasonable outlook.
He's done feeding his cats sooner than he would have liked. A sneaky look back across the bar that separates his kitchen and living room shows him that Nines is right where he left him, standing stiff and awkward, pointedly keeping his gaze anywhere that's not the kitchen.
Gavin hovers a few more moments in the kitchen, trying to calm his fast-beating heart, before biting the bullet and going back to Nines.
"Are- Lets. Uh, sit down." Gavin points at a chair. He sits down opposite of it, watching Nines sit down awkwardly before clearing his throat.
"What do you… Uh. What were you. Saying?" He crosses his arms and leans back, shoulders hunched.
We need to actually talk.
"We did earlier. I said sorry." His words are clipped and short.
That's not- Nines seems to be struggling to find what he wants to say. His hands stop and hang in the air, rigid and shaking with potential. He lets his hands fall to his lap, LED turning yellow.
Phone, Nines signs eventually, stiffly, just as Gavin's phone vibrates. He pulls it out of his pocket, frowning and unlocking it. He pulls up Nines contact, checks his texts, and-
Holy fuck.
I am sorrERROR3'&%"00y, I am afraid afERR&372ORraid that this entire problem is built on miscERROR'01%#ommunication. I did not properly properly properly properlyyyyy%"#& convey my feelings and I have hERROR'%&'%urt you. I need need need need neERROR%#&&& you to know that you have done nothing wrong and that i am sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry…
It goes on like that for a while.
Gavin's head is swimming. He doesn't entirely understand, but- he gets the gist.
He looks over at Nines. His LED is spinning, alternating yellow and red, and his eyes are fixed on the ground, out of focus. His face is carefully blank. His hands are shaking, almost imperceptibly.
His phone vibrates once more.
I apologize. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me.
its fine, Gavin texts back, because what else can he fucking do. He feels stupid, doing this while in the same room as Nines. He could talk out loud. But the silence is thick and vocalizing anything feels impossible.
He'll stick to this for now.
It's not. It really is not.
It's a few seconds before Nines follows up on that.
Last time I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, I left you. I was scaERROR%"&&red then, and I am scared now, and I have said sorry 207 times and I am tempted to make it 208.
why r u even saying sorry. im the one who fucked up and pressured you into it
Do you really think I would have sex with you if I didn't want to?
Gavin doesn't reply. His heart is stuck in his throat, and the tips of his fingers feel like television static, and his head is swimming and-
I only left because I was ove%&'ERROR5-12#rwhelmed with mixed signals and. Difficult to process feelings. When you acted like nothERROR%"3&ing happened the next morning I thought you regretted it.
I never ever meant to hurt you.
Gavin stares at that message longer than seems appropriate. Finally, he manages to speak up around the lump in his throat and the tension in the air. "You didn't hurt me," he mumbles.
Nines fixes him with a flabbergasted glare for a solid second before schooling his expression back to something more neutral. It makes Gavin want to laugh, in a weird way. Obviously I did, or we wouldn't be in this position.
"No- no! I thought I hurt- you. It- I-..." He groans frustratedly, pulling at his hair. God, even in a moment like this, he can't let go of his stupid reservations about talking about his stupid emotions to his stupid best-friend-crush-coworker, even in a moment like this he c-
A hand touches his wrist and guides his hand away from his hair. Nines is frowning faintly, concerned. After Gavin looks up at him, he jerks away, as if burned, takes a step back. Gavin can hear his fans start whirring from feet away. Nines' hands clench and unclench, form a few hesitant words-
Don't hurt yourself.
He sits himself back down in the chair he had sat in before, even more stiff than before.
Gavin looks at him, really looks at him.
Comparing him to a human would be odd, at this point. There's so many little mannerisms in him that Gavin knows only occurs because he's an android- the glitches, certain facial expressions, noises and gestures and reactions. That was off-putting, at some point that Gavin can't even remember now. It feels like that feeling was centuries ago.
Looking at Nines sit in his chair, steadfastly trying to ignore Spaghetti rubbing against his leg, stiff and fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, Gavin knows that Nines, while not being human, is more of a person than most people Gavin has had the (dis)pleasure of knowing. He knows that despite the emotional turbulence of the past few weeks, he still wouldn't trade the android for anything or anyone in the world.
That kind of revelation is scary, even if, deep down, he's known this for a while now. Part of Gavin wants to shut down, end the conversation where it is, act caustic and toxic and yell at Nines to get out of his apartment.
But- God. God. Gavin is so tired of being that man. He's so tired, so fucking exhausted, of being lonely, of not having anyone but his cats to talk to about anything, of not having Nines in his life in a more meaningful way. And maybe that tiredness is temporary, maybe that exhaustion won't last, but he's had enough of this shit in his shitty fucking life that he's willing to take a chance that it won't be.
"I like you," Gavin croaks out. He coughs, blushing brightly. Just because he wants to say this doesn't mean it's in any way easy. "A lot." He feels like a fucking middle schooler again, telling his first crush that he likes him before he learned to lock away his feelings. "This- shitstorm. Hasn't changed that. You- I- We aren't. Neither of us are great at. Communication." His words are stilted and clumsy and his tongue feels too big for his mouth, but Nines is giving him a look like a deer in headlights, so he plows on. "This kinda proved that. But I wanna be… better. If that means we… have. Something," he mumbles, sinking further back into his chair, shoulders up to his fire-engine-ears. He looks everywhere but Nines, twisting his hands in his shirt. "It doesn't- it can just be friends. I get if this, like, ruined anything more than that for you. But I'm- fine. With having- more than fine. With having something more."
The silence after his stilted speech feels deafening. His chest feels lighter than it has in ages, with the weight of his feelings off it, and his blood rushes in his ears. He forces himself to look at Nines, see his response.
He looks shell shocked, and for a moment, Gavin's stomach plummets into a bottomless abyss.
Then, he beams.
It takes Gavin's breath away.
I'd like that, Nines signs, and Gavin thinks he might have never been more happy to see someone's hands than in that moment. The more-than-something. I'd really like that.
In that moment, for the first time in years, decades, maybe, Gavin feels truly, unabashedly happy.
They're laying in bed, later that night. They haven't- done anything. Gavin hurriedly assured he was too tired for any of that shit tonight, what with everything that just happened, haha, and Nines immediately agreed. But, well, if Nines wanted to lay down with him-?
Nines apparently hadn't even considered saying no, with how fast he had replied.
He's just stroking Gavin's hair, and, listen, he's not a fucking furry, but he understands why his cat's purr when he pets them if this is how they feel. Content, safe, half-asleep already- it's only been ten fucking minutes. He hasn't fallen asleep this fast without being severely sleep deprived in years.
They sit like that for a bit, before Gavin speaks up.
"Don't leave," Gavin murmurs drowsily. The hand in his hair stutters to a stop for a split second before resuming its calming strokes. "Wanna… see you. When I wake up." He pauses. "Dipshit," he adds, because even when half-asleep he still has a reputation to uphold, goddammit.
He doesn't expect a reply. Nines' hands are occupied, and he wouldn't open his eyes to see, anyway- he's much too tired for that. So he resigns himself to sleeping, knowing Nines heard him and-
"I won't," comes a whisper, low and monotone and filled with static.
Gavin's eyes snap open. He twists around, sitting up to look at Nines in full, eyes wide. His gaze instinctively flicks to Nines' LED- blue, but with stutters of red here and there. "You can-?"
He'd never asked. Didn't care, at first. Nines was just another android, and this one came without a voicebox. Whatever. As their relationship grew to be less toxic, he had wondered why Nines was designed like this. But he chalked it up to Nines being an incomplete prototype and left it at that. He wouldn't ask a human these questions, and to imply that a voiceless android is a broken android is to imply that a voiceless human is a broken human. So he left it at that.
But this… this is a new development. Nines had made sounds before, yeah, but- well. Gavin doesn't know why he assumed Nines couldn't speak, when instead it just looks like he doesn't speak. Which is, of course, fine. It just- takes Gavin a bit to adjust to.
Nines gives a single nod. Hands free, he slowly signs a word- two hands, fists except for pointer fingers, pointing at each other. He jabs them together, then twists them opposite ways.
Painful.
Gavin lets out a single, silent Oh. Of course. Fucking Cyberlife… His mouth twists into a frown as he looks at Nines' hands. Strong. Artificially callused. Hesitant. He hears faint static and realizes that that's Nines' voicebox, crackling and hissing.
Gavin pauses, a split second, before gently taking Nines hand in his. He squeezes it, gaze flicking from Nines' eyes to his LED. "Ya don't- you don't gotta speak. Not for my sake- not for anybody's sake. Especially if it hurts you." His voice is soft enough that he barely recognizes it as his own.
Nines just stares at him, LED spinning yellow-yellow-blue-blue-blue. He smiles, small and bright.
Gavin faintly thinks that that might just be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Gavin flushes red, coughing awkwardly and letting go of Nines hands. "Anyway!" He nestles back into Nines' arms, and he immediately resumes stroking Gavin's hair. "Before we leave for work tomorrow I wanna stop by McDonalds. I've been craving a sausage McGriddle."
Nines raps his knuckles against Gavin's head in place of chastising him, and Gavin goes to sleep with a smile on his face.
He could get used to this.
