Chapter 12/20: Family Matter
"Use your fucking head, Gavin. These corporate assholes are gonna ruin you if you speak up now." - Hank Anderson
...in which Gavin's past comes back to haunt him.
GAVIN
~ DEC 22ND, 2038 * PM 7:02 ~
Stepping out of the meeting room, Gavin took a sip of his coffee only to find out it'd gone cold. He grimaced down at it. This cheap shit was bad enough at the ideal temperature, so lo and behold, go figure it was way worse in its current state. If the DPD didn't invest in a better coffee brand soon, he'd do it himself. He needed it now more than ever.
Gavin approached his desk without looking up from the pad in his hand. For the past ten years, he'd been able to navigate the precinct with his eyes closed, throwing the cup of coffee he'd begrudgingly knocked back like a shot glass into the recycling bin. Fingers ghosting over the other pads lying on the surface of said desk, he double-checked when his next debriefing was. Fifteen minutes. Breaks between debriefings were the closest thing to breathing room he could afford with his new rank.
When he was ready to set course for the break room to get another coffee - only thing keeping him awake at this point as he hadn't slept for maybe three days – he saw the looks directed his way.
Said looks were immediately directed elsewhere as if anything in the room was remotely more interesting.
His brows furrowed.
Gavin gave his coworkers the side-eye before throwing down his pad and approaching Tina in dialogue with Connor, of all people.
"Who the fuck died?"
Tina and Connor had already registered his presence and shared a look - they'd been gazing his way, too, like he was a fucking tourist attraction - the former's features being just a hint softer than the latter's.
Sure, Gavin regretted how he'd been treating Nines' predecessor, but the last thing he was going to do was apologize.
Maybe one day. Small steps.
Connor fidgeted with his coin. "I'll... leave you to it. I'm sorry, sergeant."
When Connor left them to their own devices, Gavin arched a half-exasperated and half-amused brow at Tina.
"Did Hank's plastic pet seriously just apologize for talking to you? Like he'd need my fucking approval?" he asked and let out a scoff. "Over a month working at this place and he's yet to grow a backbone."
"Not exactly. He just doesn't know what to say."
Gavin sighed, all-too-tempted to roll his eyes. "'Bout what?"
Biting into her bottom lip, Tina hesitated before handing him the pad she was holding. His eyes fell to it for his frown only to deepen, glaring back at her before snatching it out of her hands. His eyes landed on the recording of a news broadcast that had aired a few minutes ago. He'd been too busy with the first wave of his debriefings to see it.
#
Rosanna Cartland was the news anchor "...just in today, a man was found guilty for the murder of an FBI agent," she reported, images of a familiar neighborhood appearing on-screen. He couldn't quite place where he knew it from. "The incident occurred an entire 32 years ago in Birmingham and has remained a mystery until now."
#
Birmingham?
That was where he grew up.
Gavin's body froze solid as the headshot of the assailant appeared on-screen. Bushy grey beard, short hair, worn tattoos on both arms.
It was his father.
#
"Supposedly, the victim carried crucial information, the killer disposing of him before said information could be shared with the state. Espionage is rumored to be at play and the assailant will likely end up on death row for such a heinous crime. In respect of his family and to not involve them in these trying times, the DPD has refused to share a name - first or last - with the public. We'll further report once we have more information. This is Rosanna Cartland and you're watching KNC news."
#
Head spinning, Gavin found himself unable to look away from the screen. Memories came back to hit him like a truck. Tina's mouth was moving - concern on her face - but he couldn't register her words.
This wasn't right.
~ OCT 5TH, 2006 * AM 01:10 ~
Paper plane in hand, a four-year-old Gavin made engine noises as he flew around his father's office. Mr. Reed had confiscated the rubber bands as Gavin had accidentally managed to destroy three vases in two weeks, and his toys were uninteresting, so he chose to improvise. Yet, it was boring. His mother wasn't at home - naturally - but Gavin rarely even saw her anyway.
He'd been sent off to bed by his sitter, but he wasn't tired, and thus he decided to explore his father's office instead. He got distracted quickly when he found one of his paper airplanes on the way.
Elevated once he climbed up on his father's desk for the takeoff, off in the distance, an interesting sight caught his eye. His father's gun. The owner of said gun did practice shooting every morning and it seemed that he'd forgotten to lock the display case. Gavin had never held it before and thus he settled for rubber bands, but now, even they were gone.
"Whoa," he said in awe, paper plane forgotten on the floor.
Gavin jumped down from the desk and approached. He tried to reach for it, but it was too high. A pout followed before he bolted for the office chair. Lining it up under the display case, he spun it around, climbing up with little effort. He used the same technique when getting to the higher shelves where he knew his father stored his favorite snacks. Picking it up, he grunted, realizing how heavy it was. The metal was cold to the touch and was well-polished. For his father to so effortlessly hold it, he must've been really strong.
"Smi... Smith," he tried reading the inscriptions, scowling down at it. Words were hard. He registered a strange '&' symbol that looked like the number 8 and thus that's what he called it. "Smith 8 We –wess...on. Smith 8 Wesson."
He didn't know what it meant.
Going into the room next-door, he lined the gun up - proving hard considering how heavy it was - and aimed for the target that he'd seen his father shooting at before. A dummy riddled with bullet holes. To some, they seemed wealthy, but what they didn't know was that said training room was the only thing his father had bought for himself. He wasn't a big consumer when it came to money. The rest went to Gavin, getting nearly everything he pointed at, his father saving up to things that they couldn't afford at the time of Gavin's request.
Gavin put his finger on the curved piece underneath the barrel and pushed. Nothing happened. It was stuck, it seemed, and Gavin tried again. Nothing. He'd seen his father use the gun, so he thought he knew how it worked.
There was a button on it, on the grip, and Gavin tried to push it. He wasn't strong enough. There was also a switch, and that one he managed to turn, a red light appearing beneath. The capitalized word DANGER was written in said light. Gavin lined it up again and tried to pull on the curved piece again. Again, nothing happened, and frustration emerged.
Maybe his father could help.
Face lighting up, he made a beeline for the exit.
His father was talking with a man downstairs that Gavin knew as Carter Wells. He was a friend of his.
"I'm sorry," Wells said, voice muffled but sincere. "You were at the wrong place at the wrong time and now there's a need for damage control, 'cause 'wrong place at the wrong time' ain't gonna cut it."
Gavin's father took a step forward. "For fuck's sake, Carter. I could lose my family because of this."
"Look. You know I have a son myself and Kayleigh is expecting a little girl, but this? This entire situation is too delicate. I know you're innocent, but I can only do so much. You can't mention those documents you found to anyone. We need a cover-up and this is the only way they won't put charges for seeing you at the scene of the homicide at 11 in the evening -"
With that, Gavin sprung around the corner with the gun pointed their way.
"BPD, hands where I can see them!"
Wells' eyes went wide as he bolted back. "Jesus!"
"Whoa, kiddo. Easy," Gavin's father said, palm flat towards him as he slowly stepped forward. "That's not a finger gun, all right? Put that down."
"...but I'm doing what you do!"
"Reed," Wells tried, tone reeking of caution.
His father pushed on. "Gavin, please, that's dangerous," he demanded, voice stricter now. "Give it to me. Right now."
Face falling, Gavin's heart sank.
He didn't understand. He just wanted to be a hero like his dad, and now, he was being scolded for it. Whenever his father used that tone, part of him died. He just wanted him to be proud.
"Why? It's stuck anyway," he replied, pushing harder against the curved piece.
"Gavin, don't -!"
*Gunshot*
~ DEC 22ND, 2038 * PM 7:04 ~
"So it is your father."
Tina finally managed to snap him out of it, her voice soft as she addressed him. After all, she never met Gavin's father. He was fired long before she even came to the precinct. It took a solid five seconds before he even registered the hand on his arm ready to shake him as if he'd passed out over his desk or something. He reacted before she could.
Gavin immediately shrugged out of her touch. "How many?"
"Gav -"
"Tina, how fucking many?" he demanded with a glare.
She took a moment to just look at him.
"Just me and Fowler, as far as I know," she replied, Gavin's lips pressing together as he averted his eyes. "There's some family resemblance, so a couple theories are probably going around the precinct. I don't know. Fowler probably wanted to keep you out of it, but... it's all over the news. You were bound to find out eventually. I'm sorry."
Only Gavin, his father, the deceased Carter Wells, and Hank knew the real story. Why would his father cover up for him? It was no secret that they weren't close.
He registered Hank taking note of the commotion and had to bail before he could approach. Before he could say whatever he wanted to say.
"Fuck, they got it all wrong," Gavin muttered.
Just about to make a beeline for Fowler's office, Tina grabbed his arm again.
"Whoa!" she said, alarm and mild annoyance on her features. "What the fuck, Gav? You can't just drop a bomb like that and piss off."
"I'll deal with it."
"Gavin, seriously, whatever you're going through? This is not the time to push me away."
He tore free. "I said,'I'll deal with it'!"
His guilt emerged at the brief surprise on her face - shock, even - and he felt sick to his stomach. He rarely snapped at Tina. Frankly, he probably never had. One of the few things he didn't let her in on was his past and he wanted to keep it that way. He realized he was making a scene by his outburst, so if the precinct hadn't put two-and-two together before, they sure did now.
Nevertheless, Tina's hold-up was enough for Hank to reach them. He wasn't gentle.
Hank grasped his collar. "Stay right fucking here, son."
"Piss off, asshole!"
"No, you shut the fuck up and listen to me. I know you're about to do something real fucking stupid."
"Oh, so I'm just gonna let my old man get tortured in death row because I fucked up?"
"Because you were a four-year-old kid," he replied through clenched teeth, voice lowered for Tina not to hear. Gavin held the glare. "I made a promise to your dad when you signed up in the DPD and like hell if I'm letting all the shit you've worked for all go down the drain. Use your fucking head, Gavin. These corporate assholes are gonna ruin you if you speak up now."
Lips pressing harder together, Gavin's eyes darted.
"Your dad's got nothing more to lose than you, so if you wanna do right by him, you shut the fuck up," Hank added, releasing his grip with force and push for good measure. "He worked his ass off so his ungrateful kid could have whatever he wanted."
"What I wanted was a fucking father and guess what? He did a shit job at it."
...then you walked in, I got my hopes up, and then you fucked me over when I needed you the most.
How could Hank not see that he was the father Gavin never had? How much it hurt Gavin that Hank was so focused on his own pain of losing Cole that he didn't see Gavin suffered, too? That he left Gavin to grieve on his own? After Cole died, Gavin was rendered obsolete in Hank's eyes, and that hurt. He trusted Hank and then he let him down.
"At least he tried, and Christ, I doubt you made it easy."
"Well, boo-fucking-hoo. He didn't try hard enough. I don't owe him shit, but I'm not sitting on my ass while they off him. I got morals."
"Only when we get this espionage bullshit sorted out can you clear your precious conscience."
Before Gavin burst - berated him about just how little he actually knew - he managed to stop himself. He didn't know what to think. What to do. He was overwhelmed by the entire situation and such a thing didn't allow for logical reasoning. The reason why it took so long for death row inmates to be executed was because nearly two decades before said execution was torture in itself. Despite his dislike for his dad, it wasn't morally right to let someone else suffer for something you did. Especially when said person covered for you.
Tina broke the following silence.
"Look. I don't know what's going on, and fuck, I guess I've gotta respect that," she butted in, arms crossed "...but whatever it is, I'm not letting you do whatever you're doing alone. I've got your back, Gav."
She always did.
~ DEC 23RD, 2038 * AM 12:22 ~
Pacing the floor with his phone to an ear, Gavin was about to boil over with rage.
He'd attempted to find out more about this Carter Wells and who he was dealing with when it came to the trial, but said FBI agent having a busy family that still lived in Birmingham, Gavin was left on hold. Deemed unimportant. Turns out it wasn't easy to find out who had made the charges against his father. So far, little to nothing had turned up.
A click was heard and the door swung open, him turning to it. Gavin needed a moment to really register what he was seeing.
Disheveled, lids heavy over light grey eyes, LED flickered at a clear red. His board shoulder pressed up against the open doorway frame to support his body and blue blood emerged from the side of his hairline. Splattered all over his uniform. His, or another android's, he didn't know. Several rifts were sighted, his arm laid horizontal across his abdomen as if to keep his regulator in place, artificial skin ripped open at the entire right side of his face to reveal his white exoskeleton. Said artificial skin glitched against the damage.
It showed no signs of regenerating.
"Nines?" he addressed, phone forgotten on the kitchen table as he bolted for him.
Knowing Gavin would catch him, Nines pushed from the doorway and fell against his body.
"̷̥͊F̸̭͝ő̴͇ụ̵̊n̶̼͘d̵͆ͅ ̷̗͌ĥ̷̺i̷̮̎m̷̬͐,̴̩̎"̴͕́ he crackled, voice almost pure static.
The RK900.
He'd been so caught up in work and his own problems that he'd entirely forgotten that Nines had gone after the android. That was nearly six hours ago. What kind of partner was he?
Gavin cupped his shoulder. "Fucking hell, Nines, what'd I tell you? You're not indestructible!"
"̸͖̊T̶̰́ẖ̶͂î̵̯ř̷̗i̵͎̍u̷̳̓m̸͙̌.̶̬͂"̴̛̜
Thirium. He got that.
Quickly he led Nines to the couch and had him sit down. Gavin was nothing but thankful that he'd stocked up on blue blood beforehand in case anything like this happened. He was actually able to help out for once. His full attention turned to the cupboard where he had the thirium stored, pulling out the drawer and grabbing one of the bags.
He paused. It probably wouldn't be enough and thus he grabbed another.
Crossing Nines in passing to get something to store said thirium in, he registered just how bad of a state Nines was in. His head was bowed, a hunched posture, his eyes closed. It was all-too-different from his usual pole-up-his-ass, raised chin, 'I couldn't care less about you' demeanor. Nines - a weapon in android form - had nearly been torn apart out there.
He just looked so damn vulnerable.
"Hey," Gavin tried as he poured the thirium into a glass, receiving no response. "Hey, Nines. Look at me. Keep your eyes open."
Lashes fluttering, Nines did his best to ascend his gaze. Not that it helped on Gavin's part. After all, androids could shut down even with their eyes wide open, but Gavin was human and the request was an impulse.
The LED was spinning at red and - seeing that Nines was no longer deviant - it merely reflected his damages. Not his emotional state. Even still, whatever happened sure had given Nines a beat-down, both physically and mentally. He knew him that much. The way he was holding his arm pressed against his pump regulator as if worried it'd fall out was disconcerting.
Or maybe because his reduced strength thanks to said damages he merely protected it the best he could.
For Gavin, it just then hit him how pissed he was.
This fucker had nearly killed his partner. The one android he un-ironically found himself giving a shit about.
Glass in hand, he was quick on his feet to approach and hold it out to him. Nines missed it by three inches, his coordination visibly damaged, possibly even having lost his depth-of-field vision if that was a thing.
Gavin was ripped from his own mind when Nines' hand brushed against his.
A jolt went up his body. It was unexpected, the touch in general and just how cold Nines was, his thirium supply too drained to be able to turn his internal heater on. He had to fight the urge to wrap his own hands around Nines' to warm them up as if tin cans were actually capable of getting frostbite. His attention turned elsewhere when he registered the skin pulling back on Nines' hand - as if wanting to interface - exactly at the tips of his fingers that came in contact with the inside of Gavin's palm.
Nines, in his damaged state, didn't even seem to notice it happening.
The moment he managed to get ahold of the glass, he knocked the thirium back. Gavin refilled it. He had to grab a third bag after Nines finished his second and it was only when Nines downed that one as well that his skin began to heal. The process was quicker than any other android he'd seen, naturally, eyeing the red LED intently as it slowly processed.
Yellow.
Then blue.
Stepping up to the sink, only then did he need answers.
"The fuck happened out there?" Gavin demanded without any real bite, wetting a clean cloth.
Pushing from the counter, he shortly flopped down next to him. There was no protest on Nines' part when Gavin grabbed his chin and directed his head in a better angle so he could get the thirium - on its way to get into his left eye - away from his face. Nines made a whirring sound at the movement and hell if it almost sounded like purring.
He realized the sound must've come from his blood vessels filling up with the ingested liquid, returning to the empty vessels, but that wasn't enough to spoil his focus. All he knew was that he needed to get the thirium off his face.
Gavin had no issue with blood, blue or red, dried or fresh.
Nines' blood, however, was different.
Somehow.
"Connor's intel was correct," Nines replied, voice mostly back to normal. "Eighty-Eight was in the Midtown district. One of the CyberLife facilities there. I believe he was gathering supplies and could register fuel among said supplies. Wires and metals. Gunpowder, maybe. I'm convinced he's dealing with explosives, but aside from that, I can't tell what he's planning." Brows tight, Nines refused to look anywhere but forward. "I was unable to catch him."
Things weren't looking too hot.
"We'll get it done."
"If I'd been more efficient, we'd already have -"
"Nines," he cut him off, nails digging into his shoulder and pulling it back. Gavin forced him to meet his eye. "We'll get it done. I don't know what the fuck this guy's deal is - or CyberLife's - but we'll stop it."
Keeping his gaze pinned, he expected a response. It never came. Nines just looked at him, with a mix of what he would call appreciation and confusion, holding it. A hint of frustration was thrown in for good measure judging by how tight said expression was. It was an expression he was all-too-familiar with at this point, Nines rather settling for anger than boredom, seeming more and more expressive as time passed. He'd registered him vaguely picking up some of Gavin's mannerisms as well and mirroring them.
He supposed it was natural considering that they were figuratively attached by the hip these days.
Or by the shoulder, really.
Gavin had a tendency to use Nines as a wall to rest against as he never moved from slightly behind him. Nines, in return, didn't seem to mind.
Aside from Gavin, Nines only ever spent time with Hank and Connor. With Tina and Chris, Gavin usually worked as a middleman, so it was rare to see Nines interact with either of them on his own.
Most people were too intimidated by Nines to even attempt conversation. The android in question had no issue with putting his foot down and only needed to direct a hard glare for people to back off. With the accompanying LED in his forehead - and the knowledge of Nines being an android literally designed for combat - that was enough. Gavin had never been intimidated by Nines personally, per se. Just his ability to take his job if he wanted. Stupid maybe, but at this stage, Gavin trusted he wouldn't.
These past few days, Nines had seemed somewhat lost. Gavin couldn't put his finger on it.
Whether related to the case, or personal, he had no idea.
He suspected both.
Nines had yet to look away from him and Gavin's eyes darted, becoming all-too self-aware. Of his breathing, his posture, everything. Didn't help that Nines was looking at him as if he'd register the tiniest movement.
For fuck's sake, Gavin mused, realizing he was being analyzed again. Use your words, tin can.
Nines really was awful with human interaction and this only proved it. Was he expecting him to continue talking? Gavin was done. He'd said what he wanted to say. Conversation came easier for Connor. He was friendly with all and everyone - seen as a part of the precinct - while Nines seemed more of an outsider. Just like Gavin, in a way, but Gavin chose to be by his own volition.
He didn't know what the case was with Nines.
Eventually, Nines broke the contact. Gavin could resume his breathing in return.
"Why are you investigating an FBI agent that was the victim of a homicide 32 years ago?"
Frowning at the out-of-nowhere comment, Gavin followed where grey eyes landed. He let his own fall to the coffee table to see the pad with the revealing article wide open. Cursing, he quickly reached over to turn the pad off, but Nines grasped his wrist in the movement. Gavin was ready to snap, but saw no use in it. Knowing Nines, he wouldn't let it go before he had answers.
He let out a defeated sigh and had his arm fall to his thigh, hand curling into a fist around the thirium-dotted cloth before the other followed.
Nines picked up the pad. "This mentions your father."
"Yeah, no shit. That isn't exactly my concern right now. You nearly got dropped."
"Didn't know you cared."
"Of-fucking-course I do!" Gavin snapped, Nines' face twisting in mild surprise as he regained eye contact. "Whether you like it or not, that's where we're at, and I don't need your dead body on my conscience."
"I was the one that chose to investigate on my own."
"...and I let you, dipshit."
His answer wasn't immediate. "I'm fine, Gavin."
Gavin let out a scoff, lips pressing together as he directed his eyes to the floor.
He nearly wasn't.
He'd known Nines was growing on him, but now seeing him stumbling through his door on the brink of death, it was as if a third eye opened.
This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid.
"Can I finish up now?" he asked, not bothering to wait for a reply before he grasped Nines' chin again. Nines let him. Nevertheless, it was a bit difficult with his current angle. "Jesus. Tilt down your head, will you? This is difficult enough as it is."
Nines frowned. "I can't. If you haven't noticed, this collar is very limiting."
...and here I thought you were just an arrogant piece of shit.
"You can't fucking look down?" he asked, taken aback by the reveal. "Why would CyberLife put a collar on you that doesn't allow you to move?"
"Status, I'm certain. A way to show everyone that the most dangerous android ever created was at their mercy."
Unable to help himself, Gavin just stared. It was seriously fucked up. CyberLife really were supremacist assholes. There was a reason Gavin usually wore V-necks and the reason was just that. Movement. Anything higher than his collarbone and he felt trapped. The only time he was comfortable with his neck covered was when someone wanted to get a bit rough in the bedroom and that was it. Then again, he wouldn't allow just about anyone that power over him. Gavin had a need to be in charge regardless.
In any event, CyberLife didn't control him anymore.
Reaching up, he grasped the sides of Nines' collar and ripped them apart from one another. His neck was exposed. Long, but not too long. Strong, but not too strong. Gavin refused to acknowledge that he was staring. As if on autopilot, Nines reached for his own neck before looking down. There was a hint of uncertainty in his stoic expression.
Gavin averted his eyes. "How's that feel?"
"I don't know. Exposed. It did provide protection, but it's not like I have a windpipe to worry about. My only critical component is my thirium pump and its regulator."
"It's a human thing."
Gavin pushed a hand up beneath the fabric of his collar - Nines removing his own to allow access - palm against the side of Nines' neck. Said collar had heated up the skin beneath ever so slightly. Trapping his jaw between a thumb and forefinger, Gavin tilted his head aside, receiving the angle he sought. He was able to continue were he left off and it turned out that a few streaks of thirium had managed to drip down through the collar's edge. He still couldn't tell who it belonged to.
"You're avoiding the topic."
He wasn't getting out of this one.
"...and you don't just fucking quit, do you?" he asked, voice drained. Nines gave him the side-eye. "My old man's been wrongly accused of the murder. To top it off, some false espionage charges were made, so I'm trying to figure out how the fuck that happened."
"Does Fowler know you're investigating this?"
"If he did, he'd throw me in the bullpen himself."
Nines grasped his wrist and moved it from his face. "Gavin, you're interfering with issues of the state," he said, turning his head to look at him as Gavin's forearm still holding the sheet dropped to his shoulder. "You'll face severe consequences if they find out."
"Wouldn't be the first time. Fuck, you already forgot how you pulled my ass up on the Stratford Tower roof a month back?"
"I was there to make sure it didn't backfire, but you were about to do this on your own."
"Dad's gonna suffer otherwise," he replied, releasing his wrist to rest his forearms on his own thighs. He straightened out the sheet and stared down at the blue blood. "Espionage results in death row. I get it can take about 16 years before the actual execution, but those sick fucks are gonna torture him - break him - until then. Part of the punishment."
"So what do we know?"
Ascending his eyes, Gavin couldn't help the lines in his forehead from smoothening out.
'We.'
Just how quick Nines was to take his side was unexpected. Still, he couldn't say he didn't appreciate it. Not to mention that having an android sure would help out a great deal.
Gavin straightened his back. "Not much," he replied, directing his attention to another pad on the coffee table. "Guy's name was Carter Wells. Left behind a wife - Kayleigh - and two kids. Claire and Trevor. Claire had yet to be born at the time, so she's about 32 now. Trevor died in a car accident six years ago. As you saw, Carter was a Fed, so information about his job is classified."
"What connection did your father have with this family?"
"Wrong place at the wrong time? Fuck if I know," he replied vaguely, not ready to talk about any of that.
Nines, of course, took note.
"Whatever you refuse to tell me better not be crucial."
"It isn't," he said, before falling into a pause. His jaw clenched. "The fuck are you doing this, anyway?"
"If what you're saying is that your father has been wrongly accused, I believe it," he replied, Gavin redirecting his gaze to see Nines hadn't moved his eyes from him. "That aside, espionage charges can't be made from nothing. If he's already placed on death row, it must've been proven, so perhaps this Wells was the one involved and somehow had it pinned on your father."
Although he doubted Carter - whom he knew was a friend of his dad - would do such a thing, he wouldn't put it past him. If there was one thing he'd learned in the force, it was not to be blind-sighted by personal opinions.
A light went up for him. "Pinned or paid off."
"There's a high probability, but that still doesn't explain who killed him and why."
Again and again, he went over whether or not to tell Nines in his head. That it was Gavin. That it was an accident.
He didn't.
"Doesn't matter," he replied, rising to his feet and throwing the cloth into the recycling bin. "So what's the plan? Whether or not Wells was involved with espionage isn't exactly something we'd find on the internet."
"The FBI archives certainly would, but it's nearly impossible to get in there."
Gavin snapped his fingers. "Fuck, you still have the, uh... the voice-mimic function or whatever? Use Perkins."
"That would only get us so far. The FBI knows who you are, and because of that, they also know me. We can't exactly just walk in there."
"Fucking hell, you were the one who wanted to infiltrate CyberLife."
"No matter how influential CyberLife is, I'm certain infiltrating the FBI archives would be a tad bigger undertaking," he deadpanned, Gavin sighing as he averted his eyes and brushed a thumb against his slightly chapped lips. A habit. "I suggest we start with something smaller. I may be able to hack into their database if I had a computer attached to it. Any FBI agent would do."
The only FBI agent he knew of that was still in Detroit was Dick - well, Richard - Perkins.
It could work.
Guy wouldn't be happy with them breaking in, though.
Turning to face Nines again, he was only to be reminded of what happened to him before he went off. The yet fresh thirium splattered on his uniform made him feel even shittier that he was prioritizing his own needs.
"Not like we can do anything 'bout it right now in your fried state," he replied, regarding Nines from top to bottom. "You sure you're good?"
"All my functions are in order."
Gavin crossed his arms. "Mentally, smartass. I didn't ask for a damage report."
Back straightening, Nines blinked.
"Albeit not ideal... it's certainly in a better state than it was minutes ago. The moment I stepped inside, I was more focused on not getting blue blood on the floor. Last thing I needed was to listen to your whining."
"How fucking dare you? Whining is my specialty."
That had nowhere near as much venom as he'd anticipated. If anything, he sounded drained.
...and where the fuck did that last part come from?
He should've been angry, and yet, he wasn't. Especially not when he glimpsed the corner of Nines' lips curve slightly upwards. The fact that he even noticed revealed that, fuck, he'd been staring.
Gavin cursed internally and directed his glance elsewhere.
He'd figured the physical attraction would mend over time, but it had anything but, as Nines became more and more appealing as time passed. Wanting to bone down a coworker was a no-no. Wanting to bone down an android programmed to follow orders - that you could literally order in bed - and a friend, yes friend, at that? Fuck. Even worse.
His dick really had to stop thinking for him.
"Glad your twin didn't tear out your sass chip," Gavin added, meeting his eye again. "That's all well and good or whatever, but I'm serious."
Nines took a moment before answering.
"I was... scared. Less than I was when I was deviant, but said fear never truly left."
Last time he heard something that raw from Nines was back at Kamski's. It was obvious now that Nines needed to talk whenever something happened, and for once, Gavin was ready to step up.
Sighing, he let his hands fall to his sides and took a seat next to him again. He didn't really know what to do. Without knowing why, he found himself hooking an arm around Nines' shoulder, pulling him in sideways and burying his nose in his unusually disheveled hair. For comfort, maybe. Then again, he didn't really know if it worked. The steady blue LED revealed nothing in Nines' machine-like state.
"Welcome to the real world, tin can," he muttered, knowing the feeling all-too-well.
They simply sat there for god knows how long. The moment was oddly comforting, and although he'd never admit it, Gavin needed it as much as Nines did. Tilting his head, he saw that Nines was - quite literally - halfway lying down.
"Why the fuck are you so tall?" Gavin asked, scowling.
Nines looked unimpressed. "I believe the question you're attempting to phrase is why 'you,' as in 'Gavin Reed,' is so shor -"
"Finish that sentence and you're no longer welcome at my place, toaster."
"I wasn't aware I ever was."
"Oh yeah? Well, happy fucking birthday," he replied, falling into a pause. "Not a damn word 'bout this to anyone, you got that?"
"Certainly not yet. It's valuable blackmail."
Gavin puffed a laugh.
Fuck you, he mused, not having the heart to say it aloud.
Couldn't stop himself from grinning, though.
