Phew, this chapter was a bit tricky for me. It's not beta read so if there are any errors I've missed please let me know.
If anyone has any time on their hands and is at all interested in beta reading, I would be ecstatic to hear from you :) my tumblr name is curlyhairedone
I'd also be happy to just chat about all things DBH, but beware my blog is 1% fanfic stuff and 99% cat videos and memes.

In which Gavin needs help.

Gavin sat on the sofa, staring into space, eyes swallowed up by shadows and mouth set in a firm line. He had been up since four in the morning. He didn't know what time it was now and he didn't really care. It was light outside, cool sunshine streaming through the balcony window, so it was probably around seven or eight.

He should do something.

He didn't though. Instead he continued to sit on the sofa, blankly staring at the black TV screen, right hand softly spasming as he tried to get rid himself of the itch inside his cast. He wasn't supposed to use his left arm for anything beyond the gentle stretches he'd been instructed on; if he did, it could take even longer to heal.

A large part of him didn't care about that. It wanted to claw the sling off, use that hand to rip apart the cast and just shred the skin there to pieces. The plaster was too tight, his fingers sticking out like red, swollen sausages. He wanted it off. He wanted it off. It felt like there were insects there, crawling around, shitting everywhere. They were creeping out of the skintight plaster and itching up his skin, their spiked feet slipping on the stale sweat encasing his body. He scratched at this feeling, at his shoulders, his chest and his face: the worst part of all.

He was going to shave it all off. His stupid, gross beard was going to go. He would go out, buy a thin, disposable razor and everything would be gone. He didn't care that he'd look like a kid with a clean shaven face, or that some of his old scars would be on display for the world to see. He'd just bury himself back into the rubble of his home and not let anyone in.

While he was out, he should get some more pain killers too. He had been running low for a week now, trying to space them out so he could make them last. They were all gone now. His wrist hurt. He needed to do this. They'd ask about it next time he was at the hospital for a checkup if he didn't use that fuckin' prescription.

His clothes needed a wash as well. He'd run out of things he could easily put on, but the washing machines were in the basement and the lift was out of order... He'd do it tomorrow. He could stay in these clothes a bit longer, never mind the fact they were still damp with sweat from the nightmare that woke him up. The bed sheets had been gross as fuck to lie in too so he'd staggered up, sat on the sofa and hadn't moved since. It wasn't much better there. Gavin had done this a few nights in a row now and it was starting to show in the stains on the covers and smell of the cushions. He could send them off, send everything off to the cleaners. But then he'd have to pull them off the sofa and carry them. He couldn't do that right now. He'd tried to carry the laundry before but he didn't have a bag and he couldn't carry the hamper with just his right hand fingers. He should buy that too, some sort of laundry bag that he could swing over his shoulder like a sweaty, fucked up Father Christmas.

Yeah, he'd go out and do all this, sort his life out.

Any minute now.

Gavin continued to stare at the blank TV screen. Underneath it, old microwave meal containers were piled up, ready for when he cleared out all the trash. They were scraped clean. He wouldn't leave out rotting food out where Kit would be a dumbass and eat it. There was still a smell of stale, old food in the air though. Perhaps coming from the kitchen sink where countless plates were piled up in week old water with all his cutlery, ready for when he could muster up the energy to wrap a plastic bag round his cast and get washing.

Gavin couldn't even muster up the energy to do that for a fucking shower though. The plates had no chance. He should do it though. He should at least shower. He could do all the other shit tomorrow but he needed to wash. It had been days.

Gavin continued not to move.

*Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock*

Gavin opened his eyes but he didn't look over.

*Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock*

Go away.

*Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock*

Just go the fuck away.

*Knockknockknockknock… knock… knock…*

There was a long silence. Gavin let out a huff of breath.

Yeah. That's what he thought.

He closed his eyes. Everything was quiet. He could hear the hum of his fridge, the muffled of an argument drifting down from the flat above, the far off wail of a police siren. And footsteps. They were soft, and muted, but in the relative silence of the flat, they were like gunshots.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. Gavin didn't open his eyes.

Then there was a tentative touch, achingly warm, smooth fingers on the sides of his face, making him jolt and open his eyes. He looked up and Nines looked down, pale grey eyes unblinking, unmoving. He didn't say a word and neither did Gavin. They just stared at each other, Nines's hand frozen on the coarse and bristly outline of Gavin's face. Gavin closed his eyes and drew back, away from the warmth, trying to mentally compose himself into yelling, into telling Nines that he shouldn't pick his locks. That he shouldn't touch him like this.

But the anger just wasn't coming. Gavin was tired.

The hands moved, no longer hovering an inch before his face, but moving to his shoulders, gripping firmly and pulling him up. Gavin had to look at him then, had to glare, had to at least try to struggle and move away. Nines softened his grip but didn't let go, just staring at Gavin with that stupid blank face and gently but unrelentingly pulling.

Nines didn't say anything as they moved, he simply lead Gavin to the kitchen and leant him against the counter. He kept a hand on him the whole time, in the centre of his chest, as if to hold him in place while he searched through the cupboards and brought out a plastic bag and some tape.

Gavin had stopped glaring by this point and had stopped trying to wiggle away. He just watched as Nines released his soft grip on his chest and knelt down. He cut the tape with his teeth, soft brown hair bobbing with his movements, and started layering it over the plastic, creating a watertight seal around Gavin's arm. He didn't look up once as he did so, completely focused on ensuring no air could get through.

What was he doing? Why was he doing this? Gavin tried to figure it out in his head. He tried to understand what the android could possibly gain from this. Nines stood up, once more towering over him. Gavin looked up an Nines looked down. Then, gently, he placed his hands on Gavin's shoulders again, turning him around and guiding him towards his bedroom.

Gavin didn't get it. Why was he doing this?

He sat down on the edge of his bed as Nines turned and walked into the bathroom, switching on the shower to heat up and searching for something. Gavin stared after him, lips parted and brow furrowed. He should tell him to leave. He should tell him to fuck off and never come back. He was just doing this because Gavin had been helping him. He only wanted to keep his 'teacher' from being eaten alive by mould. The smiles weren't real. This wasn't real. Gavin would tell him when he came back. He would tell him that this was fake and Nines was fake. That all this was just a pretence at feeling and he should stop.

Nines came back in. Gavin didn't say a word. Instead he leaned forward as Nines knelt before him again, bringing one hand to his face to keep it steady.

…What was he doing?

There was a click and a sudden whirring sound as Nines brought up Gavin's electric shaver and held it to his jaw. Gavin held still, eyes wide, never looking away as Nines's focus dropped to his chin, clearing away the hair there; not too close, not too far. Just perfect.

His hands were warm, leaving traces over his skin like the tail ends of comets. Gavin was still frowning down at him but he remained quiet. He simply held still and let Nines bring the shaver and his burning fingers across his jaw and tilting it up to better access his throat. Gavin tensed and those hands stopped moving, but only for a moment, only long enough for Gavin to let out a long breath, to remind himself that this was Nines and, for some reason, to relax. The hands moved again and Gavin stared up at the lights dotted in his bedroom ceiling, at the way they filled the room with blindingly bright light. He closed his eyes and swallowed dryly.

The hands pulled away and it took Gavin a moment to open his eyes and look down. Nines's LED was circling blue and yellow but his face was expressionless. He abruptly stood up and moved back.

"You wash up, I'll tidy the place," he said, voice quiet and soft.

The spell was broken. Gavin's face flushed an ugly red.

"You don't have to pretend to-" Gavin cut himself off and looked away. "You don't have to do that," he muttered.

"I know," Nines simply said. "But I will."

He turned around and left, gently shutting the door behind him, leaving Gavin sat on his bed and staring at that closed door like it had all the answers in the world.

Being clean made a difference. Gavin was still in pain, things were still shit and nothing was fixed exactly, but he felt better. He looked at his reflection in the fogged up mirror, at the wet hair plastered across his forehead and the stubble lining his jaw. He still looked tired and he still looked ill, but he also looked like himself.

Gavin quietly surveyed his reflection a moment longer before leaving the bathroom. There, he stopped short. The bed sheets had been changed. No longer was there the balled up mess of creases and sweat he'd grown familiar with. No, Nines had changed it for that novelty bed spread Tina gave him a few Christmases back. The one covered in red, blue, yellow and green dots, like a game of Twister. He'd also laid out a set of clothes. They were warm to the touch. Like they'd just been done.

He-

Uh.

Gavin turned away and picked up his sling. That was clean too. He tried not to think about it. Or the fact that there was a disposable heating pad laid out next to it.

He failed.

Where on Earth had Nines even found that?! Gavin didn't own any heating pads. Did he go to the shops? How long had Gavin been in the shower?

By this point, Gavin's last shreds of dignity were but a distant dream. He still didn't take the heating pad. Instead, with his teeth, he ripped off the plastic bag around his cast then speedily pulled on the clean clothes and sling. The carpet was still grimy under his bare feet. Apparently Nines hadn't had time to do everything. This made Gavin feel a bit better somehow, but he still hesitated when leaving the bedroom, hand hovering over the door handle before he sucked up a sharp, bracing breath and went out to face the music.

It was cold. The windows were open, letting in a bitingly crisp but clean smelling autumnal wind. The sofa was bare, stripped of cover and cushions, and a vacuum stood tall in the middle of the living room. Exie was trying to climb it.

"The floor in here was not that bad," came Nines's voice from the kitchen. "You kept the litter trays clean as well."

Nines turned around when Gavin didn't answer, a plate in one hand, a towel in the other. His jacket was gone, carefully folded up on one of the bar stools, leaving his severe looking black shirt on display. Cyberlife had probably designed it to look imposing, what with its high collar and utilitarian cut, but Nines had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and there were soap bubbles on his stomach. He stared at Gavin over the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, silently waiting for Gavin's response.

"L- like I was gonna let those fluffy fuckers be all miserable," Gavin huffed, giving a nonchalant shrug and instantly regretting it when his collarbone flared with pain.

Nines nodded at that and turned his attention back to the dishes. Gavin edged closer.

"I put most of your laundry in the wash downstairs. I did a few by hand though. I also found an electric shaver online with a much narrower handle. The link is up on your laptop. I... I hope I haven't overstepped my boundaries too much."

He had. He really had. But Gavin didn't say that. He just sat himself down on one of the stools at the counter (the one that Nines usually sat on during their games) and waited for him to finish. Kit jumped up onto the counter and meowed loudly, clearly instructing Gavin to commence the daily pet. Gavin's lips twitched up into a fond, if tired, smile and he happily obliged.

All there was to be heard over the next few minutes, was Kit's motorboat purrs and the clinks and clatters of Nines washing the dishes. Gavin didn't know what his face was doing as he stared at Nines's back. Nines looked different like this…softer, realer somehow.

Gavin turned his gaze away and focused on petting Kit, trying not to worry about the stiff movements of his bloated fingers and failing. He should- he would book a doctors appointment, and soon.

A few minutes later, Kit, finally sated in his gluttonous need for attention, gave one last trilling chirp, shook off Gavin's hand and jumped down from the counter. Gavin stared after him, then looked back as Nines pulled out the bar stool and took a seat.

"You… didn't have to do this. I'd still help you, even if I- if this place was a mess."

"That's not why I did it."

Oh.

Gavin's eyes fell to his cast, at the perfectly dry plaster and his skin, red and irritated beneath it. He looked back up at Nines who was staring at his hand, LED yellow, probably looking up inflammation on WebMD.

"Nines," said Gavin, interrupting his search before he could get to the cancer section. The LED span back to blue and Nines looked up. Gavin didn't say anything. He couldn't think of what to say.

He smiled.

Slowly, hesitantly, Nines smiled back. His eyes didn't crinkle, his cheeks didn't dimple and his teeth didn't flash. It was simply a small upturn to the corners of his mouth and a soft look in his eyes.

"….Haven't seen that one before. Where'd you get it?" Gavin asked.

"I don't think I got it from anywhere."

"Oh," Gavin said, intelligently. He cleared his throat and grabbed the stack of cards Nines had left out on the counter.

Nines's smile grew and they settled into a game.

Next lesson: Hobbies