Request by AO3 user rk800 (Duskythesomething): what about Connor catching himself constantly staring at the new detective, but whenever he tries to talk to them (think like the "I like dogs" chapter/conversation) they don't seem to like him. He's really confused until maybe Hank sets them up together and the detective reveals they've thought Connor was super cute and charming the whole time, but was too scared to show it. Either way, thank you for responding!
When not referred to by "you", the reader is referred to with they/them pronouns :)
Fluctuating
The first thing Connor discerned about you was that you were punctual - arriving a good twenty minutes before the allocated time of your introductory meeting with Captain Fowler. The only other information the android had been given about you was that you were a transfer from another state's police department and that you would be utilising the workspace of the vacant desk adjacent to his and Hank's - apart from that, he had not known what to expect.
He watched as you unpacked your things after you'd been led to your station, and went to work about analysing everything he could with what was visible in front of him, along with any archived data he could access in his systems.
A quick facial scan revealed your name, birth date and your spotless criminal record; Connor discovered that you used to work for the NYPD but transferred when you moved to Michigan - you held an impressive 94% closure rate over the course of your career so far, and solved forty-eight homicide cases in the last year alone.
Commendable. Hardworking and diligent, Connor extrapolated.
The android shifted his gaze to observe the array of items you were in the process of decorating your workspace with. You removed a few paper notepads from the box you had carried in, along with a digital data pad, and placed them neatly into one of the drawers - organised, favours the traditional form of taking notes or simply well-prepared in the event that electronic devices were to fail - followed by a little potted plant that you positioned down and rotated several times before nodding in satisfaction.
Connor scanned the plant, identifying the flower as Spathiphyllum wallisii, more colloquially known as peace lily, and cocked his head. The bloom needed very little sunlight to survive, and only required watering once a week, making it a very easy and effortless choice for a desk plant. Appreciative of nature, Connor deduced, but perhaps forgetful when it comes to caring for greenery.
You pulled a soft ball from your box of belongings - a stress ball? - and gave it a purposeful squeeze before placing it down next to the terminal on your desk, succeeded by a small pocket-book that Connor distinguished as a collection of crosswords. Likes to occupy hands when thinking, keeps brain engaged when idle from work - in Connor's mind, these were all crucial things to know about you.
Connor examined the knee-length black coat you wore, ascertaining that it was a pricey article of clothing manufactured by the fashion brand SABA, and his eyes meticulously picked out the patches of your coat that were frayed and repaired with needlework - amateur patchwork, expensive but hasn't been replaced, implies the clothing has sentimental value and is perhaps a gift from a loved one? - before you slipped it off and hung it on the stand by your desk.
You had finished unpacking your belongings and were now waiting for the Captain to call you into his office and get you started for the day; since you still had time before your meeting with Fowler, Connor figured it was as good as time as any to introduce himself.
The android stood, rounding his desk to stand beside your's as you observed your brand new workstation, and smiled when you noticed him.
"Hello, my name is Connor. It's a pleasure to meet you, detective", he greeted, adopting his usual foundation for meeting new people, and surveyed the way your eyes darted over his face, landing briefly on the LED on the side of his head, before you notably swallowed.
You blinked, lips parting as you drew in a breath, "Hi, I…" you trailed off, holding hard eye contact, and your cheeks went a shade pinker than before, "I need to go." With that, you stepped away from him and swiftly disappeared into the break room, where you stayed until Captain Fowler called you into his office.
You'd be lying if you said you couldn't feel the android's eyes on you.
He'd been staring at you all morning, you were sure of it, but you were far too reticent to turn to face him and ask him to stop; you already felt like an absolute fool for losing your nerve and flouncing away earlier when your attempt to introduce yourself had gotten lodged in your throat, unable to pass your lips.
You weren't sure what was going on inside the android's head, or indeed why he felt the need to endlessly gawk at you, but it was beginning to make you feel anxious and insecure, almost like a crawling sensation creeping up the back of your neck. You were certain that Connor did not intend to offend you with his flagrant, uninterrupted gaze, but at the same time, the need to flash him a warning glare was becoming far too prevalent.
It was embarrassing. You hadn't meant to seem all mousy and withdrawn when he had introduced himself earlier - in fact, you'd been eager to get to know all of your new colleagues, so as to make your new work environment as homely as your last - but then you'd looked at his face and been swept away at the sight of how ridiculously pretty he was.
You'd become flustered immediately, striving not to seem like a weirdo, and then you'd just up and ran away, so you clearly failed that venture - but it just couldn't be helped. You didn't generally gain crushes on people until after you'd gotten to know them, but this android - god - he'd had your knees weak almost instantaneously.
You're not a lovesick teen, get your damn shit together, you tried to tell yourself, but the more you thought about Connor and his perfect, annoyingly symmetrical face, the more you realised you wouldn't be able to even look at him without your cheeks heating up to a temperature comparable to that of the sun's core.
You continued to coolly ignore the android, while inwardly becoming more and more hysteric, for another fifteen minutes, until finally he broke the strong silence.
"You have a cat, don't you?" he inquired, still sitting decorously at his desk, and your fingers ceased typing on your terminal keyboard mid-sentence. You gave the android a restrained, dubious look, eyebrows knitting together as you wondered how he could have possibly known that.
"...how do you… know that?" you voiced the prominent question in your mind, your brain quickly constructing worrying possibilities - was he a stalker? Did androids ever even feel the desire to stalk people? How else would he know about your beloved cat?
Connor held up a small piece of paper, "This receipt fell out of your pocket earlier, it contains a purchase for cat food."
Your brain slammed the breaks on its overactive imagination as you felt an inaudible exhale of relief rush past your lips, before you were suddenly filled with indignation at the fact that the android had read the receipt contents instead of just returning it to you or placing it down on your desk.
Wordlessly, you sprung from your chair, snatched the shop stub back, and once again sunk down at your desk, shoving the sales slip into your pocket. You tried your hardest to disregard Connor's curious gaze out of the corner of your eye, but alas, he spoke again after several moments.
"I like cats. They're engaging and independent. What's your cats name?" the quizzical android queried, and you felt yourself go red in the face, heat rising from your cheeks like a well-fuelled fire, because there was no way - no way - you could divulge the truth of your cat's humiliating name.
Silence ensued as you fought the inner conflict of your mind over whether it was easier to just lie to the android and tell him your cat's name was Tiger or Oreo - something normal that wouldn't make you feel unimaginably awkward admitting to a handsome stranger - or whether to pretend you hadn't heard him ask the question at all.
You remained quiet, facing your terminal with a narrow gaze that you had to force yourself to keep steady, because the urge to peer at the android was far too great, but you could see him frowning in your peripheral vision, and you felt your chest tighten with shame when Connor's expression turned to disappointment, and he gave up the attempt at conversation, turning back to his own terminal screen to continue working. You felt admittedly terrible about it, but your pride refused to allow you to reveal the ludicrous name of your feline companion.
Connor's gentle compulsion for dialogue did not end there.
He caught you in the breakroom, lingering particularly close to the small table you were leaning over, and his presence forced you to raise your gaze from your pocket-book of crosswords, fixing your discomfited stare on the curiosity-driven android.
Before you could open your mouth to delicately ask if there was anything you could help him with, Connor smiled brightly - which was rather unusual to see given you had acted like an ass to him all morning by repealing all his attempts at discussion - and cocked his head in a regrettably endearing way.
"Abdicate." He said, and you blinked a few times fast.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Number five across, to renounce one's throne, eight-letter word. Abdicate." He pointed at the crossword puzzle you had been engaging in before he'd come over.
Your eyes dropped to the conundrum on the page that you had been genuinely struggling with, and you promptly grew flustered for several different reasons - namely, his show of cleverness made him all the more attractive, his captivating smile made your heart jump in your chest, and lastly, your stubborn side would have rather solved the crossword without the android's assistance.
"If I'd wanted your help, I would've asked", you objected before you could really think about it, and abruptly felt like trash for your retort that had been completely uncalled for.
Connor's face fell, like a stab to the chest, as he quietly remarked, "I'm sorry, detective", and left you alone with your coffee and your crossword.
"Your coat is very stylish. Was it a gift from your parents?"
Again, you felt utterly gobsmacked that the android somehow had this information about you; instead of letting your astonishment show, you cleared your throat and looked up from your terminal where he was leaning casually against the edge of your desk.
"What makes you think that?" you inquired, trying not to seem skeptical of his knowledge in case it were to inadvertently hurt his feelings. After the crossword incident, you'd made a reluctant effort to try and engage whenever he posed a question to you, but your responses were all clearly clipped and rigid in speech from the pure fact that your stomach gave nervous flutters any time you glanced his way.
You'd already entertained a handful of his questions regarding the kind of music you listened to, your favourite book, the type of sports you liked, and each time you answered, Connor appeared to grow even more interested in these little scraps of information that just seemed wholly unavailing from your perspective.
"I noticed the postcard on your desk", he motioned the small stand that held up the postcard you had received several years ago from your mother and father, a photo of the Sydney Opera House on one side, and a heartwarming message from your parents on the other; it had been a while since you had seen them in person as they'd moved to Australia while you were still living in New York City, but they did occasionally send a letter or an email every once in a while.
Still, you had received the coat in the post months before the postcard, and there were no obvious clues written in the message from your parents that could imply you'd been gifted the coat by them, so how the hell did the android figure that one out?
As if sensing the probing question you had yet to voice, Connor smiled and explained how he had reached his conclusion, "I'd already deduced that your coat was a gift. If you had bought it yourself, you would have been more inclined to simply replace it upon finding it damaged, but you chose to repair it, so clearly it has sentimental value. I recognised the fashion brand, SABA, as an Australian-based company. Then I saw the postcard from your parents in Australia, and made the extra leap in logic."
Fuck. His intellect was sexy, and not only that, but there was a hint - just a smidge - of cockiness to his smile.
"It could've been from a friend who ordered it online from Australia", you pointed out, feeling the urge to wipe that alluring smugness from his face.
"Balance of probability", Connor stated with a wink, before he allowed the arrogance to drain from his tone, and he shrugged, "I could have been wrong, of course, as you said, which is why I posed it as a question and not as a statement."
You hadn't heard the second half of his remark, too caught up on that wink.
Swallowing hard, you shook your head, dismissing the conversation with a brusque utterance as you returned to your work, "Well, you're a regular Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"
From the sound of Connor's almost inaudible sigh, he was completely aware of the exasperation in your rhetorical retaliation, and chose to end the dialogue there, returning to his desk.
Lieutenant Hank Anderson was far from stupid. Sure, he couldn't always make the obscure connections between seemingly inconsequential evidence found at a crime scene like Connor could, but at least he wasn't blind to the display of nervous infatuation you had been exhibiting ever since you laid eyes on the android detective.
"I don't know why they don't like me", Connor vented, arms crossed as he scrutinised the floor of the breakroom, "I've sifted through all my social protocols, I've tried every friendly approach I can think of, but they just… don't want to talk to me."
Connor probably didn't know it himself, but he too was showing symptoms of having a crush - he even sounded like a frustrated teenager pining for attention - and the sight made Hank want to roll his eyes.
"Sometimes you can be a real idiot, Connor", Hank mumbled, blowing on the surface of his too-hot coffee, and almost snorted when a ghost of a pout found its way onto the android's lips, "you really think they don't like you?"
"Well, yes", Connor responded, tilting his head in confusion, "why else would they refuse to look at me, and even avoid me given the opportunity?"
This time, Hank did roll his eyes. "You might have been made to comprehend human behaviour and emotions, but you really have a lot to learn, son."
Connor's eyebrows pulled together at Hank's comment, but he didn't respond, further proving the lieutenant's point that the android was completely oblivious to your true feelings. Hank let out a sigh, shaking his head at the hopeless android, before shifting his gaze to where you sat working at your desk.
Well, Hank thought to himself, guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands.
"Wait here", he told the android, before swiping up the data pad containing files for his and Connor's current case, and made his way steadfastly to your desk.
You were sure there had to be some mistake; you weren't supposed to begin taking cases until your third day, and yet here you were, holding the data files for a recent homicide case with your brand new, supposedly temporary partner, the ridiculously beautiful android known as Connor, on just your second day on the job.
Lieutenant Anderson had approached you, informing that Captain Fowler had changed your schedule and that you were supposed to begin your practical workload as soon as possible, then he'd promptly dropped the digital data pad on your desk with a knowing smirk on his face, and told you, "Oh, by the way, you're gonna need a partner for the time being to help you get used to the setting, so I've nominated Connor. Good luck."
He hadn't stuck around to see you almost choke on air.
So there you stood, looking quite apprehensive, as Connor sat in the driver's seat of the car you would shortly be riding to a crime scene in. You didn't want to get into the car, because then there'd be nowhere to run if you grew too abashed.
"Detective?" Connor enquired after lowering the window of the passenger seat, "We should probably hurry."
"Mhm", you hummed as you steeled yourself, "yeah, sure… just coming." When you were sure you had hardened your composure enough, you opened the car door and calmly took your seat beside Connor, sealing away your potential escape route as you shut the door behind you and buckled your seatbelt.
"You seem nervous."
Damn that android. "I'm fine", you assured him after clearing your throat.
He misinterpreted the quiver in your voice, "I'm sure you'll do great on your first case with the DPD. There's nothing to worry about."
"It's not that-" you cringed slightly, "I said I'm fine, okay?"
"Okay."
Connor started the car and pulled out of the parking space, following his internal navigation system to the address he had been given; the car ride was excruciatingly awkward, neither occupant knowing quite how to break the tension between them.
It was Connor who finally gathered the nerve to cut through the disquiet, "I apologise if I have done anything to offend you, detective."
You were quick to correct the android, your heart barely able to take the dejected tone of his voice, "No- it's fine, you haven't done anything to offend me, it's- uh, it's fine." Your admission came with a flush of redness over your cheeks - you were glad Connor was driving and thus had to keep his eyes on the road.
Out of the corner of your vision, you saw Connor's lips purse in contemplation, and prepared yourself for another question you didn't have time to generate an answer for.
"If I may ask, why do you dislike me?"
Your eyes slipped shut despondently as you were reminded that your behaviour up until now had been entirely hurtful and inconsiderate, without having provided a reason as to why you had been acting that way. You felt disappointed in yourself at coming across as unpleasant and horrid - you truly hadn't meant to make the android think such a thing, and you knew you needed to amend the tautness between the two of you.
"I don't dislike you - I'm sorry, I- I'm just… settling in, y'know?" you tried to explain, but you knew your words would not suffice for the android's curiosity.
"Detective, if we're working on a case together, we should probably try and be amicable with each other." It must have been Connor's incredibly polite way of saying 'get your shit together and stop being an asshole.'
You breathed a sigh, eyes falling to your fidgeting hands in your lap; the android spoke so softly, and your stomach did a flip inside you as you wondered whether his lips were as sweet as his tone. You really had to stop thinking things like that - you were in a professional environment with a professional android who probably only wanted to befriend you for the sake of making his job easier, and you needed to act professional, damn it.
"I would like to get to know you", said Connor, and just like that, you relented.
"Mr. Wigglebutt."
The words slipped from your mouth and you knew your face must have mimicked the colour of a ripe tomato.
"E-excuse me, detective?" Connor stumbled over his words, eyes leaving the road for just a moment as surprise became evident on his face, clearly bewildered by what you had just said seemingly out of nowhere.
"That's the name of my cat. Mr. Wigglebutt."
You expected the conversation to end, and for Connor to reconsider his remark of wanting to get to know you, because what kind of person in their right mind would name a cat Mr. Wigglebutt? But instead, when you looked over to the charming android, he released a light chuckle of laughter - your heart pulsed hard at the sound - and he suddenly wore a look of ultimate amusement, eyes twinkling with a smile.
"Mr. Wigglebutt", he repeated, and somehow it sounded fine and sophisticated coming from his mouth, "It's a good name. I like it."
You felt the tips of your ears heat up to match the bright hue of your face, and bit your lip almost violently as a hysteric giggle threatened to escape you; you managed to calm yourself, finding the urge to apologise for your behaviour the past two days.
"I'm sorry I was so cold to you… I just- I'm afraid you would find my life boring if you got to know me", you quietly disclosed, and saw Connor quirk his head.
"I don't think you're boring at all. I find you quite fascinating, actually", he spoke, his voice blessed with uplifting geniality that hadn't been present when they'd initially entered the car, and you swallowed tightly around the happy lump in your throat.
"Do you- um- want to get coffee, like, after the case, or something-" you gushed, before quickly realising your mistake, "ahh, you- you don't drink coffee… umm-" you didn't have to worry about finishing your sentence, because luckily Connor saved you the trouble with three delightful words.
"I'd love to."
Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I would absolutely love you if you left a comment with feedback! I have a nice list of requests for the next few chapters but I'm always taking more so do feel free to leave a prompt in a comment! :)