Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit: Become Human

Rating: T

Words: 4188

Warnings: canon-typical language, minor reference to Nines' injuries.

Notes: Thank you all for sticking with me with this fic series! The pandemic + real life has been making it difficult to write, but I love this series too much to give up on it! We now returned to our regularly scheduled feature of The Two Resident Idiot RK's of the DPD Who Need to Get Together ASAP.

Chapter: 1—Black Friday and the Betting Pool

"You're kidding me!"

"No lie, T."

Even though Gavin had continuously been telling her that all that he was saying was one-hundred percent true, Tina still couldn't believe her ears. Well, she could, but not to this extreme.

She was sitting across from him in the breakroom as they shared a lunch together. He was taking a few minutes away from some reports and files he had started this morning, and she was on lunch break from patrol around the city. Black Friday was always a hectic day, so instead of going out and braving whatever coffee shops or food places that might be backed with Black Friday shoppers needing to refuel from their shopping sprees, the breakroom of the DPD seemed like a much calmer area. For now.

And where else was she going to hear all the juicy gossip?

So here she was, leaning over the table clutching half of her cheesy panini in one hand and half-drunk coffee in the other like they were a lifeline to her sanity. She was sure that the expression on her face had to be a sight to see, but to be fair, Gavin's face wasn't any better. His looked to be a cross between despair and unhinged amusement. It made his face look weird.

She set down her sandwich and drink before she could squeeze the life out of them before steepling her fingers together against her forehead. She locked gazes with Gavin. "So you're telling me," she began, "that the entire evening, it was just one dish after another? All ruined?"

He slid his phone to her across the small table. She began flipping through the picture folder and she couldn't help herself as she busted out laughing. The first pic was a sink half-full of utensils and dishes—she assumed it was the Lieutenant's as she didn't recognize it as Gavin's (since Gavin had cat pattered dish cloths and those were very absent in this photo). The plates and bowls and such looked normal, covered in sudsy water. It was the utensils that really caught her attention. The forks were bent as easily as if they were shiny versions of pipe cleaners that kids liked to use for crafting. Some were at ninety-degree angles while others were folded so that the prongs of the forks were touching against the bottoms.

She swiped to see the next photo of a very crinkled pan of what held the remains of what used to be some kind of dessert. It was a circular aluminum baking pan that one would normally use for cakes or round desserts—or rather, it used to be that. In the photo, it was crunched inward toward the middle, crumpled and bent onto itself like a loose ball of crumpled paper.

Another swipe and the next photo in front of her could only be descried as sad and hilarious, if not a little impressive. Unlike the others that only showed ruined metal, this one was a picture of Nines standing in front of the sink with a drying cloth in his one hand. He was holding one end of the large cutting knife that he had been drying. The knife, however, was not intact. The handle was in his drying cloth hand along with half the blade attached to it. The other half of the blade, broken off at the middle, was sitting on the counter covered in water. A light blue blush was dusted across Nines' cheeks—Awww, Tina thought to herself since Nines wasn't normally seen like that—as he stared annoyed and embarrassed at the half blade on the counter.

"The tinman kept thinking of the other tinman the entiiiire evening," Gavin clacked his coffee cup against the table. "Felt like I was gonna get cavities, ugh. And not that I care, but now the old man needs a bunch of his cutlery replaced."

"Oh, my God," she wanted to cry and laugh and give Nines the biggest hug, the poor guy. "He's so lovestruck."

Gavin snorted and took a sip of his coffee. "That's one word for it. Wait until you see the rest."

"Christ, there's more?" Even though the part of her that thrived on details and gossip wanted to know, know, know, the other saner part of her wanted it to end. It was like every time Gavin opened his mouth, everything only got worse.

Just as she was about to swipe to look at the continued tale of What the Hell Was Your Thanksgiving, two friendly faces walked through the entrance of the breakroom. Mitchel (1) and Ben looked as if they desperately wanted to never leave the building again. Mitchel was rubbing a headache away, if the circles he was pressing into his temples was anything to go by. Ben, the poor guy, was clutching a bag of chips with such a tight grip that Tina was scared that if she looked at it wrong, he might stash it away like a squirrel. Other than that, and looking tired, the older man didn't lose his characteristic genial nature.

"Well, isn't this a mini party?" Ben waved as he walked in. "I thought I could hear you all the way from my desk, Tina!"

She waved back with a grin, "Hey! Thought you two were out around the area. Did you just get back?"

"I never want to leave again," muttered Mitchel rather miserably as he bounded right for the coffee machine. "We just got back about ten minutes ago."

Gain winced in heavy sympathy. Tina knew he had patrolled around last Black Friday due to homicide being slow and crazed shoppers being pretty bold. She knew for a fact that he was glad to be doing even mundane paperwork right now if it meant that he didn't have to go out and deal with the pushing and shoving and Karens foaming at the mouth for the last incredibly low-priced oven set or vacuum cleaner. He still had the scar on his hip from one Karen ramming him with the corner of her shopping cart last year. The sharp and terribly rusty shopping cart.

Tetanus had not been fun.

"Yikes, that bad?"

Ben shook the bag of chips he had in his hand in a pointed manner as he took a seat at the table next to them. "The last bag in the store. The Target was closer to us on the way back, so I stopped in for a few minutes. A few minutes turned into a half hour fight-fest as I tried to get one single bag of chips. I didn't realize they were on sale and that they were the last ones until a guy nearly tore them out of my hands when I was waiting in line." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm getting too old for Black Friday."

"Psssh! Please, if you're old, then Anderson is ancient," Gavin rolled his eyes.

Tina was about ninety percent sure Ben and Hank were around the same age, but she kept that thought to herself.

"Speaking of Anderson," Mitchel spoke from behind his mug, "I thought I heard his name from over here." He leaned against the counter and gestured to Tina. "What are you gossiping about now, Tina?"

Now, although a part of her thrived on news and office gossip, she normally wouldn't be so chatty about stuff that had to do with Gavin. But since Gavin was a very small part of this and mostly focused on their two clueless friends, she figured it would be okay. A quick glance to him just to make sure, and he confirmed with a shrug and a what-can-you-do lift his mug. Oh, thank God, because she could not wait to get this out. "It's literally the greatest thing ever."

Ben raised an interested eyebrow. "Oh? You don't say."

"C'mere, c'mere!" She waved them closer, Ben leaning in more as he was already sitting at the table, and Mitchel walking over. She held Gavin's phone in the middle so they could all see. "Gavin was telling me about his Thanksgiving, and it is the wildest one yet—it's not even his fault this time!"

"It was never my fault the other two times!"

"We heard from Tina otherwise, man," Mitchel said. "Your cats on the ceiling seemed totally your fault."

"We're not talking about that."

Tina shook the phone to grab their attention once more. Honestly, children. "It's about our two favorite robot boys of the department. Look, look," she started at the beginning of the pictures Gavin had showed her and she slowly flipped through each of them to show Ben and Mitchel. "Nines did this." At the same time, she was watching both of their faces get ever increasingly more confused and disbelieving after each one. Mitchel's cup of coffee was held in the air in front of his open mouth while Ben's eyes grew wide.

"How mad did he get? That's so unlike him!" Ben pointed at the phone, but then visibly backed up. "And how's he doing, by the way? We only got him back two days ago."

There was a collective grimace as they all remembered the video that was shown and the state of Nines. Tina in particular couldn't help but shiver when she remembered how terrible he looked when they went to rescue him from the warehouse. He was such a strong (both literal and metaphorical) guy, so it really tore her up to see him like that. If they hadn't gotten there when they did…Well, it wasn't something she liked to think about in too much detail.

Gavin rolled his shoulder as if to shake of the discomfort that made his body tense. "He's almost back to normal, the Terminator. He's at a consultation appointment with a technician at the hospital with Connor right now, actually. He was on his feet yesterday, which was good. Still down an arm and still recovering, but he's almost back to normal. Me, Connor, and Anderson are keeping an eye on him though to make sure he isn't a dumbass and pushes himself too early." He then glared at them as he threatened them with his coffee mug, "Don't tell him I said that, though."

Pot, meet kettle, she thought to herself. She knew better to say it out loud unless she be met with a five-minute tirade about how he could take care of himself just fine, blah, blah, blah.

Mitchel looked into his own coffee mug. "I'm really glad he's okay, though," he swirled whatever was left in the mug, "…didn't know if he was gonna make it when Anderson called us from the hospital."

Tina rubbed her wrist as she felt the heavy atmosphere press on her. It was never easy seeing a fellow officer—and even more so, a friend—like that. Even with that in mind, she had to remember that Nines survived and that he was doing alright for the most part. (Perhaps better than alright if Gavin's account from Thanksgiving meant anything.)

"Well," she heaved a sigh, trying to get rid of the heavy mood. "Back to the photos."

"Yeah, back to the photos." Ben aimed his attention towards the resident troublemaker, "Gavin, what did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything! First of all, that isn't even my fault," Gavin defended. "Second of all, he wasn't mad at all. It's all Connor's fault he ruined all that stuff! The tinman has it bad for the other tinman."

There was silence for exactly ten seconds before Mitchel blurted, "We needs details now."

It wasn't a secret that Connor and Nines were quite keen of one another. And by 'keen' they all meant terribly and obviously all about one another. Every time Tina saw the two of them together—unless in the middle of arresting somebody or something like that—she could see how well they fit together. From the beginning when Nines was found after the revolution, to them getting comfortable working to one another, to them really gravitating towards each other this summer, to…well, now. She was happy for them, and by the grace of everything that was good, she wanted them to Get Together as soon as possible.

Mitchel jolted when she slapped his arm. "Me the fuck, too, my good friend. And you came just in time!" She jiggled the phone in her hand. "We all saw what Nines did. I was just about to look at what the hell Connor was up to when you two walked in."

And thus, she shared the beautiful bounty of Thanksgiving Disaster pictures that Gavin had bequeathed her plus some explanations.

The reactions were instantaneous.

"Oh my God."

"I know."

"Oh, my God."

"I know!"

"Why is there a dent in the wall?!"

"Better question is why is the table snapped cleanly in half?"

The look on Ben's face was a combination of despair and resigned longsuffering, as if he were asking God how this could have gotten this bad. Fair. Tina would have laughed more if it wasn't close to what she was feeling as well. "Lord almighty, it's worse than I thought." The older man, like the rest of them, had been quite observant of Connor and Nines, especially lately.

Ever since the Halloween party, Tina and the others had taken note as to how their two friends naturally gravitated towards each other. The two RKs weren't aware they did so, but then again, it was hard to see oneself from the outside. Tina had seen how endeared and awed Connor had looked at Nines after the man demonstrated his mods. In a similar vein, the stolen glances Nines had been shooting Connor ever since the party when the other man wouldn't be looking had not been lost to Tina.

Though not puppy love, they were like puppies. It was cute. Cute, even though one of them was the resident Terminator and the other was a relentless detective shadow person who was basically a wolf hiding in plain sight.

But hey, Tina wouldn't want them any other way.

Before any of them could say anything, a voice came from the entrance of the breakroom. "Everything okay, Ben?"

They all turned to see Pamela, the PM700 receptionist. She was peeking from the entrance with half of her body hidden. She had her thick, black hair done in multiple braids which were pulled up in a bun. Her brown eyes were curious, and she was twirling a loose, skinny braid between one of her dark fingers. She didn't have any files or her tablet in hand, so she must have been on her break right now.

Pam continued, stepping into the breakroom. "You sounded really dejected. Everything okay?" After the revolution and becoming deviant, Pam had quickly decided that being a police officer was not for her, despite it being her original programming. (Tina needed to get better about that line of thinking—there were plenty of androids that no longer wanted to do what they had originally been programmed to do. She shouldn't be so surprised at it, especially a year later). She had wanted to stay within the DPD as she knew many of the people in there, and with help from a few of the people in the department showing her different roles, she slotted herself perfectly within a receptionist role. She was empathic almost to a fault and constantly had her friends' best interests in mind.

Gavin muttered something into the last bit of his coffee while Mitchel laughed. Tina smiled, popping the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth as she let Ben answer. Even though he still sounded tired, there was amusement present in his tone, "Yeah, everything's okay, Pam, thanks. We're just talking about the holiday. Gavin and Nines went over to Hank's place and Gavin was showing us some pictures."

Her LED went from calm blue to a blipping red at the mention of Nines. She tugged on the braid she had been twirling previously as her brows pinched together. "Nines—is he okay? I, um, I haven't heard anything about him since he was taken to the hospital. And, and, and Connor, too! What—"

Tina cut her off before she could grow more anxious. The poor woman was already predisposed to anxiety, so working herself into a frantic question barrage would help no one. "Pam, Pam, it's all good! It's all good. He and Connor are okay. Connor is with him at a consultation appointment for a replacement arm—that's why they're not here today." She didn't blame her for her worry, though. Nines had looked abysmal during the video and worse when they had rescued him. Pam, as a receptionist, had not been part of the mission to rescue him, so this was the first time getting updated with the whole thing.

Pam breathed out a long sigh of relief, placing a hand on her chest. Her LED trickled from red to yellow and then back to a relaxed blue. "Oh, thank rA9! Sorry, sorry, I just…it's been a long couple of days, you know?" she said as he walked to the cabinet to grab a bottle of thirium.

Oh, they sure did. Long was an understatement.

Gavin, who had finished his coffee and had placed it in the sink, shot her a devious grin. She looked wary of it, but Gavin wasn't deterred, and he jiggled his phone at her. "I got something that'll cheer you right up, and it has to do with Tinman One and Tinman Two."

"We gotta be matchmakers now!" Tina flung her arm out to gesture at the phone.

Confusion was clear across Pam's face as she just blinked at them.

Mitchel sighed, "We should probably take this to one of the meeting rooms."

Five minutes later, and their quick field trip took them to one of the empty meeting rooms that they rarely used. They mostly used it for storage and the extra chairs stacked on top of each other and boxes of unused equipment shoved in the corners attested to that. Thankfully, there was enough room for the five of them to occupy. It was dusty and the corners were a little dirty, but the room functioned for what they needed just fine.

Pam, Gavin, Ben, and Mitchel were sitting in a semi-circle from the chairs they had unstacked around a large standing display board that Tina was standing in front of. "Thank you all for being here today!"

"You didn't give us a choice," Gavin crossed his arms.

"Not the point. Anyway!" She turned to the board and grabbed a digital marker to begin writing. "We have to help our poor, poor friends in their time of need right now!" Once she was done and turned to her coworkers, Operation Helping Hand was scrawled largely at the top. "Gavin, if you would do the honors, please."

"With pleasure," he said as he swiped on his phone, transferring pictures from his phone to the display board. With a quick shimmer, the images he had shown her earlier were all on display. Since everyone but Pam had already seen them, most of this was for her sake.

Pam quirked a brow as the images were shown. She drummed her fingers along the side of her thirium bottle. "Aaaaam I supposed to know what a bunch of damaged and bent kitchen stuff is supposed to mean?" A pause. "And why Connor looks like a blueberry?"

"As you know, and I'm sure that you've been able to tell, our loveable RK friends have been pining after each other like school children—"

"I never went to school, Tina."

"—but I know you know the concept, so stay with me here. Connor and Nines have shown signs of mutual attraction. That much is obvious! Soooooo, as the good friends that we are," she gestured to herself and then the rest of them, it's within our civic duty to help out these poor, poor idiots."

Then she whipped out a slender collapsible metal pointer and jabbed to the bent pans in one picture. "See Exhibit A!" The next pic was of the cutting knife that had been broken in the middle, handle from the blade. "Exhibit B!"

Mitchel leaned over to Ben to whisper just loud enough to hear, "When did she get the metal pointer?"

Pam leaned forward in her chair and rested her chin on the top of her thirium bottle. "RA9, who did that?"

Tina, Ben, and Mitchel turned to Gavin—and it was not dissimilar to the whole class all turning to look at the odd student in the class. "Hey hey, stop looking at me like that. I already told you, I had nothing to do with it!" To Pam, he said, "Me and Nines went over to Anderson's place for the holiday—mostly to keep an eye on Nines and keep Connor from worrying his pretty little head off. Anyway, long story short, Terminator got all flustered over Tinman and ruined a bunch of stuff in Andersons kitchen. Tinman kept running into tables and bumping into shit the entire night, and I'm already over both of them."

Pam, who quickly made the connection, looked at the board again and leaned back in her chair. "Oh noooo," she giggled and covered her mouth, "I didn't realize it was that bad."

"And that's why we have to help!"

Tina set down her pointer, and from behind dusty old metal cabinet, she pulled out a well-used whiteboard. She opened a drawer of the cabinet and used that to prop up the whiteboard. Displayed on it was a list of names written between three columns. The first column was titled 'Connor Confesses First', the second one had the title 'Nines Confesses First', and the third column squeezed to the side was 'They Confess at the Same Time'. They had added the third column after getting an anonymous suggestion one day. "Time to update the betting pool, lady and gents! Pam, where's your money going to go?"

"Wait, wait," she held up a hand and looked to the others, "this is a thing? Is it…normal to bet on your coworkers?"

Mitchel, ignoring Tina's cooing of Pam being a 'sweet summer child', snorted. "Not at all, but we needed something to do since the bar we used to go to banned us from entering there anymore."

"Don't ask," came Gavin's pained comment seeing Pam opening her mouth. She closed it.

Tina would tell her later once Gavin was out of earshot.

Ankle crossed over his knee, Ben continued for Mitchel, "Plus we're kind of tired seeing Connor and Nines crushing on each other so hard and not acting on it. Honestly, they're like peanut butter and jelly, ya know? They go so well together. The pictures Gavin took pretty much confirm it."

"Uhhhh, I can't eat human food, but I think I understand what you mean."

"And now that we're here, I think it's about time we start talking about a few game plans. They need a push in the right direction—a helping hand, if you will. But first, who are you going to bet on, Pam?" Tina tapped the whiteboard, which read:

Connor:

Chris – $45

Mitchel – $45

Nines:

Tina – $50

Gavin – $75

Ben – $35

Both:

Anonymous – $200

"…The hell are you all doing?" A familiar deep voice asked from the door.

Tina held in a shriek as she slapped the bottom of the board in a panic, sending it spinning round and round. Gavin just about jolted out of his chair and Pam almost threw her bottle in surprise. Everyone whipped their heads to the door—which was supposed to have been locked, dammit—to see Hank looking utterly perplexed. Tina fumbled for the switch to darken the screen, but the remote slipped out of her hand.

They watched it clatter to the floor and slide to a corner where the spiders lived. "Uhhhh, nothing muuuuuch." Nailed it.

Hank gave her a flat look and took a sip from his mug. "Uh-huuh. And you lot are all packed in here like sardines in this dusty old room for funsies, right?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. Team bonding, ya know."

The man was silent for a moment before looking at Ben, who Tina guessed Hank thought would be the voice of reason for all this. She supposed he wasn't wrong.

But then again, Ben secretly loved this kind of shit. "Betting pool on Connor and Nines, along with plans to get 'em together. Wanna join?" He pointed to the digital display screen, which had stopped spinning and returned to the picture side, and the whiteboard with the betting pool on full display.

Hank blinked. "There's a betting pool?"

"Oh yeah, it started on Halloween."

"Huh," Hank muttered. "Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. Ya know what, why the fuck not?" He took a chair and swung it out, plopping himself on it. He raised his mug, "Yeah, put me in. Tell me about the betting pool."

"Operation Helping Hand is a go!"

Published: 6/13/21

(1) Mitchel Wilson is the officer that Connor saved over the roof. He's only referred to by first initial and last name in game and in the DBH wiki, so I made up a name for him.

A/N: Annnnd I'm back! After all the angst from the Part 3, I wanted to start of Part 4 with some goofiness from our favorite DPD people. Shenanigans will ensue, muahaha