^Requested by missawsomesauce: What about a jealous Connor?

Requested by ourshire on AO3: I'd love to see a jealous Connor ;)

Requested by tumblr anon: We've seen reader blatantly having the hots for oblivious Connor but what about Connor being obsessed with/hopelessly in love with reader and them having no idea he feels that way? :P

Combined some prompts again! I really hope Connor doesn't seem OOC in this one - I did my darnedest to keep him in character! Lemme know in the comments if I did okay, I admit that I struggled to write this one which is why it took me a while :P I quite like it though, so I hope you do too.

P.S: This is like the first oneshot I've written where Gavin ISN'T a complete asshole! No one can convince me that he doesn't have the potential for redemption :')

P.P.S: If you find grammar/spelling errors, I'm really sorry! I did look over the chapter for any mistakes but I have been VERY tired today, so I can only apologise if you come across anything!

Spite

Connor loved you, he was sure of it.

The realisation had only occurred to him recently, but his feelings for you had been growing over the course of two years now, and after numerous ventures of research, he had concluded that it was the only explanation that seemed to fit his so-called symptoms.

There wasn't a lot of archived information on the effect of love in androids - at least when compared to humans - but from what Connor had dug up, it seemed there were similarities in behaviour and physical attributes that reacted in much the same way humans were affected by the ardent emotion.

When you were around, his thirium pump reverberated at an accelerated pace, sending faint trembling vibrations throughout his entire body. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was distracting, especially when he was in the middle of a case; all he could concentrate on were the palpitations transpiring within his chest. In response, his core temperature rose, which generally became noticeable to those nearby because it resulted in a dull flush across his synthetic skin.

It was difficult to make excuses for why his pale complexion would suddenly take on a pinkish hue every time you neared him.

Occasionally, when Connor saw you smile, his thirium pump would stutter, sending a couple of alarming error messages to his processor, and he'd have to briefly excuse himself elsewhere to ensure that every component in his body was still within working order. It took effort to compose himself, a conscious exertion to avoid overheating, and it really didn't take Hank long to catch on.

The scruffy lieutenant truly enjoyed pointing out the times when Connor seemed more human than android - Hank always looked on with supreme delight, and perhaps a hint of smugness stemming from the potential to playfully ridicule him - whenever he caught Connor staring at you from across the precinct, a look of dazed deliberation on his young, smooth face.

"Are those hearts in your eyes, Connor?" the lieutenant would always tease, knocking the android from his warm reveries.

Connor would always abruptly return to facing his terminal, curbing the fluster that threatened to make itself known, and more often than not he would purposefully ignore Hank's bait, choosing to act as though he hadn't heard the man as opposed to becoming defensive. A prickly reaction would only confirm Hank's suspicions and give him more ammo with which to poke fun.

Connor knew the importance of keeping a clear head when working a case; he couldn't afford to let his thoughts drift to you when a homicide had taken place, but that didn't mean he could distance himself from the effects you had on his central processing unit, so instead he distanced himself from you - actual, physical distance - and it really didn't feel good.

Being with you felt good. It felt really good, and it was even better between cases when Connor didn't have to focus his squirming thoughts on morbid evidence, grisly clues and images of bloody murder scenes. When he had free time, he made an effort to spend every possible moment with you, and savoured it while he could.

He liked the way you spoke sweetly and softly to him, forever reminding him that he was your close friend, that you cared about him and enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours. He liked the casual touches you offered him - when you'd press a hand against his back as you leaned over his shoulder to review case files on his terminal, when you'd lead him by the hand every now and then when you wanted to show him something important, when you'd hug him in greeting or kiss his cheek goodbye - he loved the closeness.

Connor missed you when you weren't around and spent quiet nights in Hank's living room thinking about you nonstop, and when he did receive the pleasure of your company, he did everything in his power to make you happy, impress you, or make you proud.

He did everything he could for your approval.

He wanted you to feel the same. He wanted to know that when you were away from him, your mind was a cluster of dissonance and yearning, that you drifted to sleep with thoughts of him buzzing through your head, that you dreamt about him whenever your eyes fell shut.

He wished he could dream, if only to be able to see you at all times of the day.

"Well, this isn't very pleasant, is it?" Hank remarked nonchalantly as he stepped into the sleazy motel room that happened to be the scene of a recent homicide; the lieutenant hovered around the double bed with careful steps, observing the bloody corpse lying atop the sheets, a tortured expression on the victim's lifeless face.

Connor stepped into the room after him, giving the area a once-over and scanning for any immediately obvious clues. There wasn't much to suggest a break in - the door was in tact, the window was locked, and the motel owner had not said anything about hearing loud noises - which could have meant that the victim knew and trusted the killer, the murderer had a key to the room, or the lock to the door was picked.

"How many keys are there to this room?" Connor enquired, looking over at the motel owner - a stocky middle-aged man by the name of Bernard Ferns - who was standing at the entrance to the room, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of being closer in proximity to the body he had discovered just a couple of hours prior.

"Uh…" the man shrugged his shoulders, "Should just be two. The one the customer had, and the spare key - which is still in the locked cabinet in the general office, by the way", he shuffled on his feet, trying to keep his gaze away from the dead body several metres away from where he stood.

Connor nodded, turning his attention to the entrance of the motel room, specifically the open door - he knelt in front of the keyhole and peered into it, scanning for any abnormalities. The lock was an old-style cylinder pin-tumbler mechanism manufactured by Yale, the metal was worn and scratched as it would be after many years of use, but it showed no signs of being tampered with by the use of a pick, it was lacking the indicative abrades that came from friction of the tiny tools.

The lock had not been picked, so that was ruled out.

"I'll want to see that key so I can scan it for fingerprints", Connor told the man, "I'll examine the body first, though."

"Uh, alright", Bernard murmured, crossing his arms as he leant against the door frame, "but I'm telling ya, it's been in there the whole time, there's no way someone could've gotten in there without the keycode."

Connor sent the man a brief glance, "It's beneficial that we check, just to be sure." The android faced Hank, whose mouth was quirked up in the corner - a knowing smile to which Connor's eyes narrowed slightly, head dipping in a subtle nod. There was no need for words, they had been working together for so long that they held a mutual understanding of the other's body language, and Connor knew they were both thinking the exact same thing - Bernard Ferns and any other member of staff at the motel were suspects.

The android finally regarded the corpse with all of his consideration, scanning the body for all the information he could assemble.

Human, age: 31, name: Rick Marron, date of birth: June 19th, 2009, approximated time of death: 23:30, criminal record: theft, sexual assault.

After relaying this data to the lieutenant, Connor examined the dead man's injuries, and other noteworthy traces of evidence that could summon up an image of how the homicide took place. There were vestiges of shaving cream around the man's jaw and below his chin, remnants of shampoo in his shaggy hair, his throat was slit deep enough to have slashed the vocal cords, there was a stab wound inflicted to the left ventricle of his heart, and another above the large intestine, having punctured the pancreas. There was a knife perforation through the man's right palm, though the entry point of the blade appeared to be in the back of the hand, and upon closer inspection, Connor discovered that the victim's right ankle was bruised and swollen.

"Cause of death?" Hank enquired, just to be sure there weren't any potential afflictions that could have caused the man's demise aside from the obvious.

Before Connor could answer the lieutenant, he was swiftly cut off by a familiar voice that sent his thirium pump racing.

"Oof, what an inviting sight. Sorry I'm late to the party, have I missed anything important?" your voice drifted in through the entry way, causing Connor's head to snap round in surprise - he certainly hadn't been expecting you, and a brief peer at the lieutenant revealed he hadn't been aware you were going to turn up either.

"What are you doing here?" Connor asked abruptly, his tone unfortunately clipped due to the intense sensation of vivid throbbing in his chest - he hadn't meant to sound so terse, especially not to you, but he only became aware of his brusque timbre after the words had left his mouth.

You blinked, eyebrows knitting momentarily, "Nice to see you too, Connor", you chuckled, "Fowler sent me - said you might need some help with interviews", you turned your attention to Bernard Ferns, "You must be the motel owner, right?"

Connor watched you introduce yourself to the man and shake his hand in greeting, and he forced his attention back to the matter at hand, turning back to the body to attempt to reconstruct the scene of the homicide - but you were there behind him, sapping his concentration with every word you spoke.

"Let's just step outside the room, here. Can you tell me how many people are currently staying at your motel?" you asked Bernard, and Connor couldn't ignore the way you articulated so perfectly, every word clear and direct, your voice somehow powerful and serene all at once.

"Connor", Hank spoke a little impatiently, "Cause of death?"

"Blood loss from the stab wounds", Connor quickly answered, "I believe I understand how the homicide took place…"

The android was only half paying attention; the rest of his focus was on you, evident by the way he kept gazing fleetingly over as you asked the motel owner questions. Bernard's mannerisms seemed to have changed somewhat - he was leaning ever so slightly toward you, his mouth pulled into a crooked smile as he solidly held your eye contact; Connor wasn't entirely sure what it was about it, but the sight made him feel oddly irked. It wasn't a feeling he was wholly familiar with.

"Well go on then, spit it out", Hank prompted when Connor didn't immediately go on to explain his visualisation of the murder process.

Connor's gaze went back to Hank, his eyes wider than usual, and he blinked a few times fast, subconsciously shaking his head to dislodge the whirring thoughts of you, "Right, uh- um, the victim was… he was in the shower when the suspect entered - didn't hear them come in, then he dressed himself and began to shave, and-" the android paused, taking a glance around the immediate surroundings, he noted a book splayed on the floor, the cover opened to reveal blood-stained pages, "-the suspect knocked over the book, and the victim heard the noise before he could finish shaving. He exited the bathroom- uh, the suspect was hidden behind the door", he motioned the ajar entrance to the bathroom, "-and firstly slit the victim's throat-"

"Can you give me a description of your schedule yesterday evening? What you did and where you went? As detailed as possible, please", Connor heard you question Bernard from just outside the motel room.

"Oh, I'll give you all the details, sweetheart", Bernard responded, licking his lip, and Connor felt his teeth grind in minor outrage - he did not like the way the man spoke to you in such a patronising manner, and he especially did not like the intonation of suggestiveness in his voice.

The android was aware his expression had pulled taut with indignation, but he was so absorbed with ensuring his thirium pump wasn't causing him to overheat that he didn't really have the extra resolve to safeguard his emotions.

"Yeah, and then what?" Hank spoke up, raising his voice a little, hoping to elicit a more collected response from the android.

Connor mouth hung open for an embarrassingly long moment as he struggled to remember where he had left off, "-uh, the suspect slit the victim's throat so that he wouldn't scream and grab attention…" he indicated the puddles and splatters of blood leading across the floor, "-and the victim stumbled forward onto the bed, trying to stem the bleeding with his hand. He managed to roll over, and that's when the suspect stabbed him in the gut, and then the heart, guaranteeing Rick Marron's death within seconds…" He trailed off, and Hank stared at him with a narrowed gaze, not looking entirely convinced of the android's recreation of the scene.

"What about the sprained ankle? And the stab through the hand?" the lieutenant incited, and Connor was sure his LED had turned yellow from the mortification of missing out two very important events of his re-enactment.

"R-right, uh, the victim tripped and sprained his ankle when he fell towards the bed, and he also tried to protect himself from the initial stab wound in the gut, hence the wound through his palm", the words poured from Connor's mouth quickly, almost to the point where a few words merged together, but Hank seemed to understand what the android had told him - even if he did regard Connor with an incredibly dubious look.

"Okay, good. Next order of business is to check out that key in the general office." The lieutenant spoke, glancing back up at you and Bernard through the arch of the entryway.

"I would like to interview the guests who are currently staying, just in case they may have heard the attack take place or seen anything strange", you told Bernard, scribbling away at your digital notepad.

"Oh, sure, that's no problem. I can personally show you around to each of the guest's rooms, too-" the motel owner began, but Connor quickly straightened up, marching over and out of the murder scene to intervene.

"That won't be necessary. I will assist the detective with their interviews, you can show Lieutenant Hank to the general office", the android instructed, concise and blunt.

"Wha- Connor! You're the one who needs to scan the key for prints! I don't have an instant analysis programme built into my brain!" Hank objected, raising his hands in incredulity.

"I will. Afterward." Was Connor's insistent reply, and he swiftly grabbed your forearm, leading you away from the leering motel owner as you let out soft noises of confusion.

"Uh, Connor. You don't have to assist me with the interviews- it's probably easier if I start 'em while you go check out that key… Connor?" the android was determined to drag you away from that scruffy man, regardless of your protests.

Connor couldn't stand the way he'd been looking at you - as if you were a piece of meat - and he was sure that if he had had a stomach, he'd certainly be sick to it. It was irrational of him to feel such a strong sense of infuriation, particularly given that you were a fully grown adult and thoroughly capable of defending yourself should the need arise, but there was a highly uncomfortable sensation stewing at the base of his metal spine from simply watching the man look so lasciviously at you.

"Connor", you spoke prominently, trying to slow the android down by pulling back on your arm which was so firmly held in his grasp.

"What?" Connor almost snapped with exasperation, eyebrows pulled together in unconcealed displeasure, before his lips pulled into a contrite little pucker, LED fluttering briefly yellow before he composed himself, "I'm sorry, I- I'm not sure what… came over me."

You'd both come to a stop now, a fair distance away from the crime scene and out of earshot from the unkempt motel owner; Connor released your forearm when he realised how securely he had a hold of you, and allowed an apologetic look to come over his face.

"Are you alright?" you asked him, clearly concerned by his odd behaviour, "You're looking a little flushed, darling."

Connor's mouth clamped shut as a turbulent noise threatened to break free from his throat; you'd gained a knack for occasionally referring to him by honeyed nicknames and it was quite distressing for his thirium pump, sending a particularly vigorous surge of blue blood throughout his system. The vibrations in his chest were sporadic and he didn't quite trust his voice to transmit accurately.

"I'm… I'm fine", he assured you after a few controlled breaths, but it was clear from your skeptical smile that you didn't believe his excuse. "I did not approve of the way that man spoke to you with such condescension", Connor admitted coolly.

Your worried gaze softened into a sweet smile, "I appreciate that you care, but it's alright. I'm used to it, really, so it doesn't tend to bother me anymore."

And just like that, the discomforting prickle crept up Connor's back, making his shoulders rigid as he strove to keep his expression stringently impassive over this revelation - just how often had men made unwanted advances on you? How many times had you been made uncomfortable by the unwelcomed, obscene words of strangers and their coarse behaviour? It must have been a wretchedly large amount if you'd grown desensitised to it, but that didn't make it alright.

The emotion Connor was experiencing felt foreign. He wasn't sure he had sustained it before, and thus could not place it exactly. It was bristly and left him irascible, rhythmically flexing inside his chest in an undesirable way - all he knew was that it was strong and negative, and he did not like it one bit.

He would have to do more research later.

"Connor, your LED is red. Are you sure you're alright?" your face had once again taken on a troubled look. The android let out a slow but audible breath, trying his best to restrain his emotions so that the light on the side of his head might take on its usual calming blue, and turned to face the first occupied motel room so that the two of you could begin interviewing.

He did not answer your question, and instead led you with a light but insistent hand on the small of your back.

Jealousy.

The perplexing sentiment that had left him confoundedly vulnerable was something he had identified as jealousy. It wasn't just unadorned anger like he'd initially assumed - he'd felt anger before, roughly two years prior when he'd returned to Cyberlife after seizing his free will to find Hank's life in danger, threatened by another Connor model who had precisely zero empathy - and it wasn't discontent, as he'd endured every time Detective Reed came out with some unnecessary hostility, even if just for the sake of a little verbal swordplay.

It was something altogether new, and repulsive. Connor hated feeling this way. Unfortunately for him, however, this feeling of jealousy didn't seem to want to just dwindle on its own; the unfavourable sensation reared its ugly head more than a few times a day, and it was always strangely in connection with you.

He'd simply been sitting at his desk one morning, working diligently on a case, and he'd noticed Detective Reed approaching your desk in the corner of his peripheral vision; this alone had not set off any distinctly appalling feelings inside him - Reed was your coworker, it was not at all unusual that he would speak to you from time to time - but then the man placed a cup down on your desk with an astoundingly mild look on his face.

"You look a little tired, so I got you a coffee", Reed told you, with perhaps a ghost of a small smile painting his lips, and you beamed brightly in response to the detective's consideration.

"Yeah, had a late one last night. That's kind of you, thanks Gavin!" was your radiant reply, your face blessedly alluring when immersed with happiness, and it sent Connor's artificial heart aflutter - except this brief bout of fluster was quickly overwhelmed with hapless, undeniable jealousy.

Your perfect smile was not aimed at him. It was aimed at Gavin, and that made him feel exceptionally awful. Connor knew it was inequitable of him to feel this way; the presence of your contentment should never evoke such a strong negativity inside of him. You deserved kindness from everybody, Connor knew that, so it was unacceptable of him to wish Detective Reed hadn't shown you this small show of hospitality - and yet, he coveted the thankfulness you showed Reed, wishing he had been the one to notice your sleepy eyes and bring you a much needed coffee.

Connor was so conflicted. He spent the rest of the day condemning himself for not having been privy to your caffeine-related needs while simultaneously longing for Gavin Reed to just trip over and fall flat on his face - he was looking far too full of himself, more so than usual.

The android had to wonder briefly whether Reed was at all aware of his intense feelings for you, and whether the detective had purposely strived to make Connor jealous, but he dismissed the thought - he wasn't that obvious with his fondness for you, right? You definitely would have noticed before Reed.

Your interactions with Reed were not the only thing that induced the discomfiting feeling of envy amongst Connor's electrical circuits - merely witnessing exchanges between you and anybody else that left you bashfully flustered or gleefully delighted was enough to generate the desire and yearning for Connor to be in their shoes. He wanted to be the one to make you feel that way.

The android even found himself discreetly simmering when Lieutenant Hank had complimented you on the way you styled your hair that day - Connor had noticed your new hairstyle too, he just hadn't been as quick to point it out, and had levelled Hank with a tactful glower once you'd wandered off into the break room, to which the older man had shot him a bewildered look.

"What's eatin' you?" the lieutenant enquired, and Connor shook his head impassively, turning his attention back to the terminal the avoid admitting his agitating emotions.

"Come on, Connor, you've been acting strange these past few weeks. Don't try and make out like nothing's up." Hank had a deliberate look in his eyes, peering at Connor with his eyebrows raised, as if saying you can't hide your feelings from me, kiddo.

Connor released an unneeded sigh, "I appear to be experiencing extraordinarily powerful bursts of jealousy", he relented. Hank had been in love at least once in his life, perhaps the older man could offer some advice regarding the proprietorial sentiment that appeared to accompany it.

Hank's eyebrows flew up a tad higher, "Jealousy? What for-" the old man paused suddenly, blinking a few times before he directed his sights to where you stood in the break room, chatting away with a few other members of the precinct, "Ah." Connor felt mildly abashed when the lieutenant's somewhat sly expression returned to him.

"For God's sake, Connor, you still haven't asked them out?"

Connor let his hand trail idly through his hair, a very human gesture he'd only recently adopted into his own arsenal of actions; of course Hank already knew about his earnest emotions for you, the old man was perceptive and spent more than two thirds of the day in the android's company.

"I- it's not… I just-" Connor stuttered uncharacteristically before his eyebrows knitted with irritation at his own lack of diction, he leaned slightly over his desk and quietly spoke, "What if they don't like me, Hank?"

"What if they don't like you?" Hank parroted incredulously, "Look, I don't know why you'd think that, but you can't let fear of rejection stop you from pursuing love", the old man's lips formed a knowing smirk. "Besides, if you don't get in there soon, someone else might beat you to it", the lieutenant's eyes skimmed over the staff of the precinct, landing eloquently on Detective Reed who was hunched over his desk, head resting in the palm of his hand as he lazily read over text on his terminal.

Connor's fists clenched at the thought, that troublesome feeling once again channeling through his wiring to leave him uncomfortably rigid in posture; he stood up sharply, to Hank's surprise, and forced his expression to remain neutral, tucking his chair in wordlessly and marched through the room, past the block of desks, towards the break room where you were chatting with an officer.

Hank was right, he needed to make a move before somebody - Detective Reed - beat him to the punch. Otherwise, he'd end up regretting it forever.

The android ceased his step at the archway to the kitchen, staring at you as you spoke with Officer Tina Chen, and fought against the heat that typically rose up from his pulsing artificial heart. Before he could muster up the courage to fully approach you, you said something that made his pump regulator falter cursorily.

"Look at this handsome man", you remarked, showing Officer Chen an image on your phone.

"Ooh, what a cutie. I'd give him an abundance of kisses", your coworker responded, eyeing the picture with a grin.

"I already do give him an abundance of kisses", you told her with a giggle, "I cuddle with him every night - my love for him is infinite."

Officer Chen quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah, I don't blame you. What's his name?"

"It's Thomas. Isn't he just a darling?"

Connor stood tautly in place, teeth clamped together as his entire being was filled with something akin to despair. You already had someone, that much was evident. He had left it far too long and missed his chance to confess his deep affection for you; despite the insistent pounding of his thirium pump, Connor felt atypically cold.

It wasn't that his body's temperature had fallen, he was still very much exuding heat, but something seemed to flush through his body and grip his metal frame, keeping him frozen to the spot.

"Connor?" you asked gently upon noticing the android was standing stiffly across from you, "Are you alright?"

Connor's parted lips fastened shut, his expression falling blank for a few moments before he gave you a very austere smile, "I'm fine, it's nothing." Without giving you an opportunity to respond, the android turned mechanically and made his way back to his desk, pointedly ignoring the lieutenant's quizzical stare.

"What's wrong, Connor?" Hank asked.

"Nothing, lieutenant", Connor replied, scanning the text on his terminal, unblinking.

"Sounds like a lie to me, kid", the lieutenant pointed out, entirely unconvinced by the android's impersonal answer.

Connor did not entertain Hank with a retort. He was in need of a distraction, and so he swiped up the data pad on his desk and held it out to the older man, "I have uncovered a potential lead for our case, lieutenant. I have cross-referenced the statements given to us by Bernard Ferns and his employees, and one of the staff members, Lorraine Hopper, appears to have a discrepancy regarding her alibi-"

"What the hell happened, Connor. They didn't reject you, did they?" Hank interjected, his mouth hanging slightly open with disbelief.

Connor blinked, his expression hardening slightly, "Lieutenant, please keep up, there are more pressing matters at hand. We must take this woman into custody immediately, she may have had a role to play in the victim's murder." The android was on his feet and practically halfway to the exit of the building by the time Hank pulled himself up to follow.

"Whoa, hey, what's the rush?" came your voice as you passed by the lieutenant on the way back to your desk.

"Uh, Connor's got a lead apparently", Hank supplied, hastily shrugging his coat on over his broad shoulders.

"Oh! Shall I come with?" you asked, preparing to drop whatever you were in the middle of in order to accompany the android and the lieutenant on the current case.

"No need", Connor called from across the room, "Hank and I can manage." His voice was detached and his expression neutral; he felt a pang of regret when the enthusiastic smile faded from your face, but your presence would be nothing but a discouraging hindrance for his job. Not that that was your fault - it was his, and he freely admitted that to himself. He could not control his emotions while you were around, and he needed to rectify that as soon as possible.

He knew he wouldn't be able to put off confrontation of his feelings forever.

Connor's lead had led both him and the lieutenant to an arrest, and swiftly after, a confession of murder - the case had been solved, and the android was relieved that he could put his immediate concerns into learning to compose himself whenever you were around. It no longer left Connor feeling warm and soothed to think about you at night in the comfort of Hank's living room, all by himself, as it had before; now, the android was filled with troubling thoughts and the distressing notion that he would never hold you in his arms, close like a lover. He would never be able to tell you just how much he loved you, but even worse - he'd never get to hear it back.

You loved another. Somebody named Thomas - a human, probably - someone who was comprised of real flesh and blood, whose touch was organic, unlike that of an android's. Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised. He was an android. He may have been alive, able to feel real emotions, but in the end he was just a hunk of plastic and metal strewn together in the shape of a human.

Connor wondered if Thomas treated you right. You deserved only the kindest, most tender love another being was capable of giving; the android was filled with dejection as he yearned to be in Thomas's shoes.

There was nothing he could do but slowly disengage himself from his thoughts of you - how did one purposely fall out of love with another? Research yielded no useful results, all the internet advised was to try and aim his affections elsewhere or let time take its course and lessen his fixation for you.

He needed a more immediate solution. In the meantime, Connor tried to snub you, making excuses to leave the premises whenever you popped up out of the blue, or creating plans to intentionally ensure that your paths did not cross - it was quite difficult, given that you were coworkers, but the android certain put in the effort to ignore you.

Naturally, it wasn't long before you realised your close friend was neglecting you.

You addressed Connor one afternoon, catching him unawares as he worked at his desk, and in front of the entire precinct, you innocently enquired, "Connor, I need your assistance reviewing some evidence in the archive room. Can you come help me, please?"

The android couldn't very well decline your professional request without a sufficient reason, especially not with so many people around expecting his response to be 'Yes of course, detective! That won't be a problem!' So he swallowed any qualms and nodded his head, affirming that he could offer you a hand.

You led him silently to the basement of the station to the room where case clues were kept strictly locked up and protected, holding the door open for the android who padded casually into the room unassumingly; you secured the door behind him and crossed your arms, facing Connor with an expectant stare.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on?" you went straight to the point, hardly giving the android a chance to realise you hadn't led him down here to aid you in analysing some clues.

Connor blinked, "What?"

"Don't play dumb", you accused, "you've been ignoring me and I wanna know why!" Your voice was reproachful, but there were hurt undertones concealed in your expression.

Connor's thirium pump decided to speed up, as per the norm when it came to facing you, and he inwardly damned his inability to get a grip over his body's natural bashful response; he couldn't tackle his issues of heartbreak now, he hadn't had enough time to familiarise himself with the ache in order to find a way to disregard it.

"No, I haven't", Connor told you, shockingly unruffled considering the frantic state his systems were in at that moment.

"Uh, yes you have. Don't try and deny it! You've been avoiding me at every given chance for days now! You won't respond to my messages and you literally just turn and walk away whenever you see me coming. I'm not stupid, Connor", your terse tone did a full one-eighty degrees when you stepped towards him and took his hands in yours, a searching look in your eyes as you went on to ask, "Have I done anything to upset you, darling?"

The potent surge of thirium rushed through Connor's body in response to your delicate grasp of his hands and your soft words, especially with the use of that gentle pet name you were so fond of referring to him with; when the android attempted to retract his hands, you only squeezed them tighter.

"Please, talk to me", you implored, not letting your gaze pull away from Connor's eyes. He knew he couldn't deceive you, particularly when his LED was flashing yellow at a near constant rate.

Connor was sure his face had gone pink from the heat burning inside him, but then he remembered that the term of endearment you regarded him with was not unique to him - you had also called Thomas a darling. The android entangled his hands from your grasp and turned his back, crossing his arms against his pounding chest.

"Why don't you go talk to Thomas instead?" Connor riposted, and he was aware somewhere in the back of his digital mind that his response could have been considered immature, but it somehow felt appropriate in correlation with his feelings.

"What?" you blinked rapidly, mouth falling open in confusion.

"You heard me. Why are you wasting your time with me when you could go and spend time with Thomas? You love him, don't you? I'm sure he's much better company than I am", the android spoke, wounded bitterness dripping from every word.

"Connor…" you began hesitantly, voice tone cautious and uncertain, "I… need you to explain what you think my relationship with Thomas is."

The android turned to face you tentatively, observing the skeptical knit in your eyebrows, and shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. Your name fell from his lips in an astonishingly soft tone given his previous exclamation, "I… I know I have no right… to be jealous. But, I just… listening to you talk about how much you love someone… who isn't me… it- it hurt." His hand drifted to his chest, palm splayed above his thirium pump - androids couldn't feel pain, but there was no other way to describe what he felt. It was comparable to his insides being torn out, wires and cables askew, like being forcefully disconnected from his power supply before he had the chance to protest. It wasn't a good feeling.

Mouth hanging open, you were no doubt taken aback by the blatant confession slipped into Connor's words, and after a few vacant blinks, you let out a sigh, "Connor. You're ridiculous."

Your remark only added salt to the wounds, but Connor let his gaze drop to his feet, unable to cope in the face of rejection, "...I know", the android murmured despondently, "I know, I-"

"I was talking about my cat, you idiot."

It took a few moments for your words to sink in, but when they did, Connor blanched.

He covered his face with his hands, LED blinking hysterically yellow as mortification took hold of him, "...Oh."

You weren't cruel enough to laugh at him; instead, you pulled his hands away from his flushed face and cupped his cheeks delicately in your hands, smiling in understanding.

"If I'd known you felt this way about me, I would've made an effort to drop clearer hints. I guess you can be pretty oblivious when you want to be, huh?" your smile pulled wider as he released a shaky, demure breath, "I'm pretty into you too. Wanna take me out to a movie some time?"

The android nodded dumbly.

"On one condition." You added, "Communication is very important in a relationship, so if you're ever troubled by anything, I want you to talk to me, not ignore me, okay?"

Connor gave you another wordless nod.

"Wonderful", you grinned, releasing his heated face, "I'm free this weekend", you offered him a coy wink before spinning around and exiting the room, leaving Connor alone to continue to process exactly what had just happened.

After a few minutes of rumination, your words finally seemed to sink in, and a subdued noise of excitement escaped the android's lips; he clutched at his dress shirt, above where his artificial heart was almost jumping out of his chest, and allowed himself a short period with which to compose his fluttering pulse.

He was going to go on a date with you.

He was going on a date with you.

So, Connor thought, this is what elation feels like.

Notes: Thank you for reading! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Requests still closed at the moment :)