Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit: Become Human

Rating: T

Words: 4,284

Warnings: Usual language, canonical depictions of violence (referring to the ongoing case)

Notes: And we continue! I've actually had this chapter written for a bit, but I am trying to have at least one chapter written before I post another one so that I have some buffer between. But anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter! Let me know what you all think


Chapter: 3) Coworkers Turned Matchmakers

Monday, November 28, 2039

The weekend came and went like a blink of an eye.

Gavin was standing in the breakroom, staring at the coffee machine like it was the Holy Grail that had been volleyball spiked from God down to earth. He felt like he was standing on cotton and that his brain was made of mashed potatoes. His mug was gripped tight in his hand. Sleep had evaded him the entire weekend, hid thought plagued by growing concern, irritation, and frustration with the ongoing crucifixion case. It had been going on too long and was getting worse with each and every murder. And now it was starting to hit closer to home.

"You just gonna stand there and take up space, or are you gonna move so I can get some coffee?"

He was broken out of his zombie state hearing Anderson's voice rumble near him. He turned to look at his side to the man in a similar state to himself, his own empty mug being held like it was made of a million dollars.

"Shut up," he said more out of reflex than annoyance. He hadn't noticed the coffee had finished, but to be fair, he wasn't here all the way mentally this morning. Sue him. That didn't mean he wasn't about to drown himself in the stuff, though. Probably.

Anderson grunted, filling his mug right after Gavin. "I'd say fight me, but we both know it's too early for that kind of shit right now."

"Hn."

They both took a big gulp of the life-restoring liquid.

He took a moment to look at Anderson's face a little closer. The older man didn't look like absolute shit like he used to when he was in his downward spiral. Shaggy hair, unkept face, rumpled clothes, and more alcohol than blood in his body—hadn't been pretty. Ever since Connor had rolled around, Anderson had been returning to his old self kinda (not that Gavin would tell either of them that to their faces). Now though, he just looked like regular shit. Not drunken, depressed shit. Which, hey, improvement.

"Staying up too late watchin' Thing One go on a cleaning streak?" he said behind a sip of his coffee.

Anderson rolled his eyes then looked at him with all the exhaustion in the world that Gavin felt plus more. Damn, he really did look like shit. "Why? You want to clean that apartment of yours? Would hate for Nines to start going out of his mind because of it."

"Psshh, don't insult me, please," he said as he sat down at one of the tables. "I'm not some dirty, snot-nosed college frat boy who doesn't know how to clean his room. And Nines is just fine living with me. The cats make more mess than we do."

Anderson didn't comment, just turned to the fridge to grab some creamer. "Speaking of Nines," Gavin started, staring into his mug, "he's been mind-meld talking with Connor the whole weekend. Distracted enough that I almost, aaaaalmost was able to nail him in the head with a pillow. Almost. He grabbed the thing out of the air like it was nothing, the fucker." He brought the mug to his mouth to take a sip.

"Huh, 's probably why Connor's been acting all weird. Irritable, cranky."

Partially, but not one-hundred percent true.

There was silence between them for a few minutes. Through their partners and having to work on many cases together, the tension between Gavin and Hank had lessened through need. They still had their own past issues they had to deal with, but it wasn't as hostile as before. Gavin had a…loaded history with Anderson, but seeing him getting himself back together helped things. Gavin also checking himself about the whole 'androids are people' thing also attributed to the lessening in hostility on Anderson's side. "We saw the documents and pictures, read your reports," he said. "Saw what the bastard wrote out for Connor. You two have really had a shit few days, huh?"

It was like all the air had been deflated out of the other man. He sighed and looked like he aged the ten years he had gained back by taking care of himself. And in a way, Gavin felt a little of the same. In a rare moment where they weren't snarking at each other, Anderson sat across from Gavin at the table and looked him in the eye. "Shit few days feels like an understatement. One thing that a killer is going after innocent people, but it's been raised a few levels by targeting one specific investigator. It not only reflects on Connor's safety now, but also the killer's mental state. You know how that affects the severity of the murders."

Gavin frowned but nodded. "Yeah, that's classic obsession. Freaking weird." Too many cases went downhill into "sound the alarms" territory when extreme obsession was involved.

"I know. Ugh," the older man leaned in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, looking like he wanted nothing more than to be done with everything. Damn, Gavin felt that. "Connor hasn't been himself ever since we left the crime scene. Been keeping to himself in his room—which, I mean, he has every right to do. Fully sentient person and all that."

"To be human is to be emo."

"Well, he hasn't reached emo quite yet. Can't seem to talk any sense into him. He's dead set on believing this whole case is his fault. For such a smart android with an expensive brain, he's damn stupid sometimes." The last part was said with more fondness than anything negative.

Hearing what Connor's state has been made Gavin grimace. The coffee suddenly tasted sour in his mouth. He may have not been on the force as long as Anderson, but he had a good number of years' experience. And with that experience came the good old blame game. He, especially when he was first starting out as a detective, dealt a lot of blame on himself when he couldn't solve a case in time or if his actions had been directly tied to a bad outcome (not getting to a location in time, being just a second too late to save someone from being killed, not being able to be in two places at once). It took a while to learn that what the murderers, thugs, and abusers decided to do did not reflect on him both as a person and as a cop. Hell, he was still trying to keep that in mind even to this day. Difficult was an understatement when trying not to feel personal guilt over the work that they did.

Gavin had only had one case where he had been in a sort of similar situation as Connor was going through right now. It had happened about three years ago, a long-drawn-out murder investigation where the killer had been stalking battered women's shelters. She had categorized him as the type of guy that she hated, the type of guy that put these women in the shelters like they were. Which, was one-hundred percent incorrect; just because he was an asshole did not mean he ever abused women. In some sick kind of way, she had kidnapped the women she had wanted to 'protect', killing them and leaving the bodies for him to find.

He had needed immediately additional therapy after that case ended.

Long story short, it had been sick and disgusting, and it had taken a while for him to come to the grips that literally none of it was his fault. Still bothered him to this day.

Connor and he may have had a…rocky start to say the least, and may still be on getting-there amicable terms, but he wouldn't wish that kind of fucked up on anyone. He was annoying at times but was otherwise an alright android. Guy. An alright guy. He didn't deserve whatever the hell this twisted killer had in mind.

And speaking of androids.

"Your tinman is messed up right now, mine is messed up, and yours being like that is making mine even more messed up," Gavin said. "I don't think I saw the dude sit down once yesterday the entire time we were working. He was either working nonstop or near constantly slipping off to call with Thing One."

Anderson snorted, looking out of the breakroom in the direction of their desks. Gavin followed suit. Both Connor and Nines were working today—both detectives needed their partners to investigate the case further—and needless to say, the androids were a mess. Connor was slumped over his desk, hand massaging his forehead as he stared at his screen. Gavin could tell that he was also shooting glances at the other android. Nines, who was doing his best to seem nonchalant but was failing miserably, was hovering around Connor like a worried hen. Bringing him thirium, getting him to sit up, and trying to get him to engage in conversation. Connor was doing his best to gently wave him off, it looked like. There were a few empty paper cups of thirium around Connor, so it looked like the guy couldn't drink anymore at the moment.

It was getting painful to watch them dance around each other at this point.

"They're both a mess." Anderson said, shaking his head. "But, with everything that's going on, especially with this case getting worse, we're all sort of a mess. Nines' kidnapping and injuries, Connor being the killer's infatuation, those two and their 'relationship,'" and here he used air quotes, "I swear, 2040 better be a better year."

"Eh, fair."

Watching their partners was like being in a zoo looking at a fascinating new exhibit with veteran animals—familiar with the subjects but oddly enthralled with the exhibit. Come one, come all and watch the insane courtship of Thing One and Thing Two. If he didn't have to put up with their pining directly—being Nines' roommate and partner meant being up close to Nines as the guy tried to work through what he was feeling—he would have brought popcorn.

Damn, the betting pool was getting increasingly significant each day.

Gavin got up from his seat and stretching out his back. "Well, I don't know about you, Anderson, but some of us have actual work to do," he gave the older man a sneering grin, to which he received the bird in turn. He snorted. "Catch you when I catch you. That is unless Thing One keeps you two running around all over Detroit."

Anderson stood up as well, coffee still in hand. "You say that like Nines won't be doing the same to you."

He couldn't fight that one if he tried.

Once out of the breakroom, he made a beeline towards his and Nines' desks (which were across from each other and next to Anderson's and Connor's). He thought about the ideas they had all been brainstorming to get the two androids together while getting closer towards Nines. "Hey Tinman! We got shit to do today, time to go."


"Be safe, Detective," Connor said as Gavin grabbed his leather jacket off the back of his chair.

The man made a noise between a snort and a harrumph. "Don't worry about me, Thing One. Safety is my middle name, after all."

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

And almost instantly, Nines chimed in with, "Actually, your middle name is—"

"AH-ah-ah! No one needs to know my business!"

Ignoring Gavin grumbling to himself about 'robots needing to mind their own business', Connor tapped on Nines' hand as his successor walked past him to leave. Nines stopped. With more feeling than he had told Gavin, he said to him, "Please do be careful while you are out there."

Nines looked him over, and something softened in his expression. Connor was thankful that Gavin and Hank were not looking at him right now—Hank was looking at his screen while Gavin was fishing for his keys somewhere in his jacket—because he was sure that the expression that passed over his own face might have been one that could be teased. Keep looking at me. "Do not worry," Nines reassured him, reaching out his hand to ghost over his shoulder. Not visible to the human eye due to clever positioning, Nines cast a thin shadow hand to squeeze Connor's bicep gently before beginning to walk away.

Blue optics met brown. "Too much?" was what Connor could read off the other's face.

Controlling the darkness between his own clothes and skin, he squeezed Nines' shadow. "Not at all." He felt it being drawn away.

Never too much…

Connor watched as they left. He sighed, wishing he could work alongside Nines today; not that he did not want to work with Hank, but ever since Nines had been taken, Connor did not want to let him out of his sight. It made him feel more on edge than he was already. He missed the other android already. His thoughts migrated from the work in front of him on the screen to the tall, handsome form of Nines that had just left and—Wait.

Handsome? Did I just…?

He shook his head as if to shake that thought away. Yes, Nines was handsome, and he was addressing that as a friend appreciating the physical appearance of their friend. That was normal…right? Right, it had to be.

Actually, who was he kidding? He calculated a high probability of him being in love with Nines.

With his thoughts on his successor, Connor thought about the events of the most recent months leading up to now. When he had first met Nines, the RK900 had been stoic, stuck as a machine, and new to everything. With the fall of CyberLife, the RK900 had no objective to do or task in his mind, but deviancy gave him choice, gave him autonomy over his own self. The look of wonder and curiosity Nines had shown in his optics when Connor freed him still would forever be etched into the inner frameworks of his memory slots. An icy blue that he had yet to see on any other android, if he had to think about it.

Nines had been awkward in the beginning—even though held some of that awkwardness still now—having trouble communicating with other and picking up on social cues. After some time, they had discovered that the RK900 had been given next to no social relations programs to help him integrate, and that he had been essentially floundering because of it. Connor took it upon himself to help Nines do his best to get used to others and communicate with them in a way that did not fall flat as the floor beneath their feet. It had taken some time, but Nines eventually got the hang of it and was now eighty-seven percent comfortable managing himself in most social situations.

Since finding him and being around him since December 2038, Connor could say with ease that Nines had carved a place into his life without even being aware of it. Without Connor being aware of it. He hated that it took Nines being almost stolen permanently from his life for Connor to realize that his successor meant so much to his life. Even thinking about Nines being gone forever…

A shudder passed through his frame. He did not want to think about that subject anymore.

Still, though, he was pleased that he could be of service to Nines and to be there to support him in his recovery. The appointment on Friday to discuss Nines' arms felt like something shouldn't have to do alone, so that was why Connor had tagged along with him. Nines had looked less stressed not being by himself, which had made something warm in Connor's chest. The arms would not be ready for another two weeks, on December 12, so Nines was stuck with his one 'Franken-Arm', which he knew that the other android hated using.

"This biocomponent is not meant for me," he had said simply. The glare he had been giving the arm attached to him had been rather impressive.

"Do not misunderstand me. I am grateful to even have an arm to use. It is just that," and here his face had twitched into something that could have almost been a pout if not for the massive frustration underlying it, "this is not my body. It feels like I am using a thing cobbled together from other people…not something that is me."

It had hurt Connor to hear Nines upset like that. To someone who may have not been as familiar with him, he would have sounded childish or as if he were complaining greatly. Flat-faced. To someone who knew him, well…Connor understood a thing or two about feeling one's own body not feeling like their own.

A gust of phantom cold blew over him as the image of Amanda came to mind, displeasure clear in her countenance. He could almost feel snow rapidly collecting on his shoulders.

He shivered.

"Connor!"

His body jolted in his chair when he heard his name being shouted. He blinked rapidly before turning to Hank. "I am sitting right here, Lieutenant. There is no need to shout."

He watched as Hank lifted an annoyed brow and reached over to whack him twice on the head with his pen. The 'ow' he voiced was more perfunctory than an utterance of actual pain. The older man gave him a once-over before grumbling, "I called you like four times before. The hell has your brain working so hard that you didn't hear me? Usually, all your fancy construction or whatever programs clock us noisy humans before we even get close." His audio biocomponents were advanced to the point where he could hear Hank shuffling in the house quite a ways away, which he used to his advantage most of the time.

He did not want to talk about what had happened with his body autonomy and most certainly did not want to talk about how he was thinking of Nines almost nonstop these days. Spare myself some dignity, please. "Simply shuffling through some of the data pertaining to the case," he lied smoothly.

"Uh-huh," Hank said. He had his face schooled into an expression where Connor could not glean if he believed him or not. He had been hanging around Connor too long to know when to do that. It annoyed Connor to the utmost because this was not the first time. "Well, that's great and all, but I'd rather you not blow a sprocket or something this early on. We gotta be even more careful now." The 'you have to be more careful now' was unsaid but implied.

A flash of irritation made his fingers twitch, surprising him as it seemingly came from nowhere. However, just as quickly as it came did it pass. Hm.

Connor rose out of his chair, plucking the pen out of Hank's hand. He began twirling it between his fingers to have something to casually idle with. Pulling out his coin would have been too obvious a giveaway, given how Hank knew well that he had a habit of doing so when he was nervous or anxious. "I cannot 'blow a sprocket' from overthinking as I do not possess any in my cranium. Do you need to take a refresher course in Android Aid 101, Lieutenant?"

"Cheeky little shit," Hank said.

Connor allowed himself to smirk a little at that. He would need some humor to get him through the day. "Would you have me any other way? But, to continue, tell me about the lead we are following today. Forty-one-year-old homeless woman who saw quote 'suspicious figures' unquote. She was at the old, condemned school where the bodies had been found yesterday just the night before. Do you have any thoughts?"

"Just that it's usually the down and out people like that who see and hear more than we can," Hank said, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He looked through what had to be his notes app. "Her statement was that there were suspicious people, like you said, and that she thought they seemed dangerous. She scuttled off quick after that so the officer who took her statement didn't get more from her. 'S how it is, cops make people nervous like that sometimes. If we find her, we might be able to sit down with her and get some more info."

"Agreed," Connor nodded. Before they got too far from their desk, he did another loop around his fingers with the pen before tossing it over his shoulder without looking. Two seconds later and he heard the loud clatter of it landing back in the metal cup it lived in. He smirked at Hank, just to be a 'little shit', as the man liked to call him.

"Show off."

"Jealous?"

"You wish."


Hank despised getting old.

Like, full-on hated it.

No matter how many times Connor told him that he was 'of optimal age for his stage in life and that he was only middle aged' or whatever, his body reminded him he wasn't a spring chicken anymore. His knees snapped, crackled, and popped whenever he got up from sitting down too long like Rice Krispies cereal, and his back pulled on something funny if he moved in certain directions too quickly. After sitting down at his desk for the past hour finishing up his findings for the case thus far and the work they had done today, he was only reminded that he really needed to look into getting a new office chair soon. And by soon, he meant yesterday. The bottom of his back hated this damn hard piece of plastic. Full on garbage. Only thing that made him feel better was that Jeff and Ben were up there in age, too, so they were in the same club he was.

And speaking of Ben…

Using the bangs of his hair to hide his eyes, he looked around to see if Connor was paying any attention to him. Thankfully, his partner was busy talking to Chris, who was delighted to show Connor recent pictures of his son. Hank had to admit it, from the photos he had seen of the kid, he was one of the cuter ones. Tight dark curls and light brown eyes, Damien had melted Hank's ancient heart from the moment he got to see him. Seeing Chris look so joyed in talking about his son reminded Hank of his own son. The ache would never go away, but it was not as bad in this moment. He did his best to think about Cole's freckled rosy cheeks whenever he smiled that grin that had two teeth missing in the font and focus on the good memory of it.

With Connor distracted—thank you, Chris—he swiped through his phone until he pulled up the group chat he had not wanted to be a part of, but had been forced to join anyway.

Operation Helping Hand

Monday, November 28

1:55 PM—Hank: Ben, share with the class what you told me yesterday. We need to start getting things together. If they don't get together by Christmas, I'm going to throw myself out the window. I can't take it with the pining anymore

1:55 PM—Ben: I thought you would never ask

1:55 PM—Ben: Also, that better not be a literal thing, you've been doing well

1:55 PM—Hank: I'm not chasing the bottle anymore, damn. And thanks, I guess. Having Connor as a roommate keeps my mind off things. Like HIS damn love problems

1:56 PM—Mitchel: i'm sitting in my car waiting for the alerts this chat so I can see what we're going to do. maybe I should keep popcorn in here

1:56 PM—Tina: *eye emoji*

1:56 PM—Tina: *eye emoji*

1:56 PM—Tina: *eye emoji*

1:56 PM—Tina: *eye emoji*

1:56 PM—Pam: *eye emoji*

1:57 PM—Mitchel: why use the eye emoji? don't u see these in ur head?

1:57 PM—Pam: Would you rather me send the baseline code that my central processor spits out that translate to letters of the human language?

1:58 PM—Ben: Felt that burn even from here *burning Elmo gif*

1:58 PM—Ben: But to get to the point, I have the perfect opportunity to get this plan rolling. I had two in mind. The 1st can actually happen pretty soon. Have you guys heard about the new police dog puppies that will be coming in two days?

1:58 PM—Pam: NO, WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME? *crying emoji*

1:59 PM—Mitchel: it completely slipped my mind that they would be coming in ahhh

1:59 PM—Tina: i think ik where ur going with this, ben

2:00 PM—Ben: We all know Connor loves dogs

2:00 PM—Hank: Understatement

2:01 PM—Ben: Yes, I know

2:01 PM—Ben: And Nines isn't too far behind him in that respect. So what better way to get them together than with loads of puppies?

2:01 PM—Tina: and if a few of us go, we can make it seem like it's a team thing. u know, so it doesn't look like we're trying to get them alone(ish)

"Hey, Con."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever wanted to help train police dogs before?"

He grinned as he watched Connor blink rapidly—not from processing any documents, but just from surprise—and say, "Come again?"

Hank thumbed a message out of Connor's field of view to the group chat:

2:02 PM—Hank: Got him


Published: 7/8/22

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reading this series! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Also, if you like my stuff, you can catch me over on Twitter el_rey_ciervo

A/N 2: Even though you may find this fic on here, do check out my AO3 (same name, can be found on my profile page)! I post more fics on here than I do here (especially the mature fics), the inbox system allows me to reply to people easier, and the fics are also able to be read easier since FF has garbage formatting options