WARNING: THERE IS A BRIEF SECTION IN THE VERY BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER WHICH INCLUDES CHOKING. If you're not comfortable with this, please skip to the next paragraph.
Gavin's labored breathing quickly turned into desperate gasps for air as the brunette tried to grapple out of his counterpart's grasp. Richard observed the detective's struggles, baring teeth as the shorter of the two shook his head from side-to-side to loosen the android's grip on his neck. RK900 tilted his chin and furrowed his brows, blinking a few times to himself before regret crossed his face. The android retracted his hand from the detective's neck and slowly let go of his colleague's wrists before bringing a hand to his forehead in confusion. Gavin turned to his side, coughing vigorously as he rubbed his neck with one hand and covered his mouth with the other. The android was breathing heavy, trying to piece together what sort of emotions were surging through his components. His head jerked from one spot to the other, his processor kicking into overdrive as his internal systems began to rapidly heat up. "Detective, I…I don't," Richard paused as he backed away from the bed and ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed by his thoughts, "I don't know what…," the machine struggled to express his remorse, "I allowed predatory instinct to consume me," his eyes darted from the walls to the carpeted ground, "I apologize for my behavior. I wasn't in control of my actio—"
Gavin interjected with a loud snore. Richard glanced at his partner who had fallen asleep during the android's existential crisis. RK900 sighed, his LED stabilizing at a distressed red. He gazed at the ground with an irritated frown, frustrated for letting selfish thoughts take over his mind and direct his body to almost perform an action he would have never forgiven himself for. The android soundlessly approached his exhausted colleague and carefully moved the sleeping detective under the sheets.
Richard left the bedroom, reviewing the scene that just played out minutes ago as he entered the washroom to look for bandages. He walked into the restroom, door closing behind him and leaned against the wall, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose. "What was I about to do?" he questioned himself as his face twisted in anger. He hit his head against the wall and looked to the ceiling before pushing himself off to continue his search for proper dressing to tend to his partner's wound.
After opening a few drawers and finding some cotton swabs, he looked into the pill cabinet and discovered a box of standard Band-Aids and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. RK900 took all three items and returned to Gavin's bedroom, silently walking up to the detective.
The android gently moved his partner's jaw to the side to examine the wound created not too long ago. Richard tightly shut his eyes as he saw the bite mark he made on the brunette's neck. He then shook his head in disappointment before dousing a cotton swab with alcohol.
"This will sting," the android whispered as he brought the disinfectant to the affected area. Gavin winced and mumbled something incoherent as he tried to reach for his neck. "I know, I know," Richard expressed as he carefully grasped his partner's hand, "I'm almost finished," he gingerly placed the detective's hand back to its original position as he wiped down the wound. "There," the machine sighed sympathetically, "Let's place a bandage over this. Then I will allow you to rest without interruption," he opened up the packaging and prepared a Band-Aid.
The android positioned the bandage over the mark and lightly rubbed over it, making sure it adhered to the wound. The machine gazed at his partner, guilt seeping through his typically unemotional expression before he straightened up.
Richard glanced to the ground and noticed Gavin's torn tank top resting in the pile of dirty clothes littering the majority of the bedroom floor. He collected the ripped shirt and quietly exited the room as to not wake the weary detective. The android continued walking down the hallway, disgruntled features plastered on his face as he disposed of the ripped shirt in the garbage can near the kitchen. He placed the rubbing alcohol, bandages and cotton swabs back in their original spots before continuing down the hall.
Richard flinched as he felt Cleo rub up against his foot. He looked down with a slight smile, "Hopefully we will meet again under better circumstances, Cleopatra," he bent down and stroked the feline's head eliciting soft purrs from the cat. Cleo then pounced to the kitchen table and continued grooming herself. Richard got up from his knelt position then patted himself down before starting toward the door with hushed footsteps. Make Me Bad by Korn was humming on the stereo system—Richard paused to listen to the music for a brief moment before opening the apartment door and exiting down the main hallway.
Time passed and the detective remained in a deep sleep until 10:57 AM—five and a half hours after the heated incident—when Gavin's cell phone buzzed on his nightstand. The detective twitched, muttering to himself as he turned his head to the side. "Mhn," he buried his face into the pillow. The phone continued to ring as Gavin groaned in resistance, trying to ignore the sound. The phone got cutoff and after a second, the detective smiled in relief as he relaxed once more.
Not long after, it rang again and the brunette sighed. He opened and closed his eyes a few times, a bit disoriented, then squinted as he tried to survey the environment. He scrunched up his face, "Ah, shit," he pressed his hand to his cheek, "My fuckin' head."
After taking a few moments to collect himself, the detective groggily leaned over to check his phone. "Nh!" he grimaced as he went to touch his neck, "The fuck is this?" he traced the bandage and pressed on the area. "Shit," he grumbled as he moved his head up and down, stretching his muscles. The brunette shrugged it off and lifted his phone which was face down on the stand. "Oh man," he scrolled down his lockscreen only to be greeted with missed calls and text messages from Sergeant Miller. "Fuck," Gavin sighed as he dialed his mentor and pressed the phone to his ear.
"John," the brunette cringed as he slowly made his way to a seated position, "Hey, yeah, yeah I'm fine," he massaged his neck, "What the fuck happened last night? I feel like shit," he continued as he scratched the back of his head.
"I may or may not have given you too much to drink, kid," Miller said from the other side with a guilty chuckle. "Yeah, no shit," Gavin expressed as he leaned forward, pressing his elbows on his knees, "I mean, Christ what was in that tequila?"
"Ah geez, I'm sorry, Gav," John expressed apologetically, "I should've been more on top of you."
"What was I doing?" the detective asked, upper lip raised in anticipation. "You were downing shots like they were water," Miller expressed with hearty laughter.
"Fuck, now I feel like a jackass," the detective stated, embarrassment evident in his speech, "Lemme guess, you had to drag my ass all the way to my apartment, huh?" Gavin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It was the least I could do," Miller promptly answered, "I couldn't just leave you on the street, c'mon," he dismissed. "Thanks, John," the brunette expressed with a faded smile. "Not a problem, son. Just make sure to take care of yourself n' drink water. Hangover's are a bitch so take it easy today," the older of the two advised with a warm tone. "Got it. Oh!" Gavin jerked up, "By the way, uh—" the detective paused for a moment, "Did I get into a fight at the bar last night?"
"A fight?" Miller questioned, "I don't think so," he continued. "Hm," Gavin picked at the stubble on his chin. "Why? Is everything okay?" the sergeant asked with a bit of worry. "Yeah, yeah, I was just curious," the detective reassured with a wave of his hand. "Gavin," Miller started, "Don't bullshit a bullshitter. Why'd you ask if you got into a fight?" he asked with a stern cadence. "Honestly, it's nothing. I think I might've scratched myself somewhere when I got back to the apartment," the brunette went on, "I have a pretty big bandage on my neck," he expressed as he touched the wound. "I wouldn't be surprised, kid. You were wasted last night," Miller laughed, "Do you remember anything?"
"Yeah, I remember havin' a fuckin' ball at the bar with you," Gavin stated with a smirk, "But not much after that."
"After that, I brought you back to your apartment and put you on the couch," the retired cop said through the phone. "Huh," Gavin scratched his forehead, "I must've made my way to the bed then cuz that's where I was when I woke up a coupla minutes ago."
"Good," Miller expressed with a relieved sigh, "I'm glad you were able to get some rest, kid. You got me worried there for a second when you weren't pickin' up the phone or answering my texts."
"Yeah, sorry about that, Serg," the detective took in a breath, "I was passed out," he continued looking to the ceiling. "Thanks for checking in," Gavin concluded with a humbled tone. "You know it, son. Remember, lots of water and rest!" John advocated, "Call me any time, Gav."
"Will do, John," the brunette smiled before lowering the phone and ending the call.
Gavin threw his phone on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the top of his head. He recoiled as he swallowed and knit his brows as pain emanated from his throat. He pressed his fingers against the bruised area and shook his head, "Must've been some party last night," he brushed it off. The brunette grabbed the bedframe, using it as support to reel himself up to his feet. He immediately cradled his head in agony, wincing as he staggered forward. He took a second to come to his senses before looking to the wall to check the digital clock—he was three hours late for work. "Shit," the brunette rolled his eyes, "Fowler's gonna fuckin' kill me."
Gavin blinked a couple time before he made his way to the closet and proceeded to rake through a mess of garments to find a pair of clean clothes, quickly slipping them on, almost blacking out two times in the process. He made his way out of his bedroom and into the bathroom to brush his teeth, comb his hair and continue with his daily toiletry routine.
Feeling a bit more refreshed, the brunette speedily walked down the hallway, buttoning his shirt as he looked around. Cleo suddenly pranced into view and elegantly slid between the detective's feet. "Hey, princess," the detective yawned as he trailed his fingers down the cats back, "You look well-rested," he exhaled, jealousy radiating from his tone. Cleopatra glanced at her owner for a brief minute before making her way to her bed in the living room.
After finishing up with his shirt, the detective ran into the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab an iced coffee. He placed the coffee underneath his armpit and swept his badge, keys, wallet and firearm off the table before heading back to his bedroom to retrieve his phone. Upon pocketing his cell, he ran out into the main hallway. Gavin turned towards his cat, "Be good and don't throw up on the carpet, got it?" the detective said as he scuttled out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.
It took the officer twenty five minutes to get to the station; lucky for him, being late worked in his favor to a certain extent as he missed morning rush hour traffic and avoided the lunchtime jam. The brunette skidded into the parking lot, hitting the curb too early as his car bounced in the air. He parked his janky car in his usual spot before grabbing his gear, hastily getting out and jogging toward the station, locking the car doors on his way to the entrance.
Gavin walked into the lobby with hurried footsteps, surveying the area for any signs of his boss. He scurried past the turnstiles and into the workspace, keeping an eye out for Fowler. As the brunette turned toward the direction of his desk, he noticed RK900 conversing with Hank and Connor in the breakroom across the office. The detective raised a brow, curious as to what the trio were talking about. Gavin placed his jacket on his chair, secured his badge to his belt and slipped his gun behind his back, between his jeans and long sleeve, all while staring at the three from the other side of the room. He placed his coffee on his desk and rolled his shoulders before making his way to the men.
"Sup shitheads," the brunette stated with a smug grin as he tromped into the breakroom. "Well, speak of the devil," Hank sighed as he leaned his elbow against the coffee table. "Good afternoon, Detective Reed," Connor greeted with a polite nod. Gavin glanced at Richard who immediately averted eye contact. The brunette drew his brows together as he raised his upper lip, puzzled by his partner's unusually timid behavior. "What're you idiots goin' on about?" the officer sniggered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nothin' much," Hank responded, eyes trailing from the table to the younger detective, "Just talkin' about how John had to bail your ass out again this morning," the Lieutenant smiled sarcastically. "Huh?" Gavin shot a confused look at the cop. "Sergeant Miller had a bit of a spat with Captain Fowler earlier today," Connor calmly added. "Why was John here?" the brunette turned to Hank. "He came in to tell Jeffrey to go easy on you," the Lieutenant answered, noticeably irritated, "Said you were gonna be late."
Gavin shut his eyes and let out an extended sigh, "Where's Fowler?"
"Out of the office," Hank curtly answered. "The Captain left shortly after his argument with Sergeant Miller," Connor noted. "Gonna be out on a business trip 'til Thursday," the Lieutenant exhaled.
The detective looked to the ground and shook his head, frustrated that Miller didn't mention anything to him over the phone. "We'll let you mope in peace," Hank smiled as he tapped his partner's arm, "Let's get back to work, Connor," the Lieutenant gestured to RK800 as both walked out of the breakroom.
The detective bitterly watched as the two men exited the room. Gavin then leered at RK900, "Did you fuckin' forget how to speak?" the brunette marched to the coffee table. Richard parted his lips and curled his brows inward, "I—"
"Look, if this is about yesterday and me storming off on you at the station, I'm not in the mood," the detective pressed a finger into his partner's chest. The android tilted his head, perplexed by the brunette's words. "Detective, last nigh—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I went out for drinks with an old friend, so fuckin' what?" Gavin turned his head to the side, "Bite me why don't you," he declared with an angry expression. Richard's face twisted in confusion, "Gavin," the machine glanced at the brunette's peeved features, "I'm sorry about last night," Richard expressed, genuine regret resonating in the statement. "Huh?" the detective looked at the android, "The hell're you goin' on about now?" the shorter of the two asked with a cocked brow. RK900 blinked a few times then looked to the ground as he tried to understand what was going on. "Okay," Gavin clapped, "Well, if you're done being fuckin' weird, I'll be at my desk. We got a shit-ton of cases to cover and we haven't made any progress," the brunette turned on his heels and walked out of the room. "I got the hangover of the century, so save the cheeky bullshit for another time," the detective noted as he strolled to his desk.
Richard took a moment to himself before following his counterpart. The machine realized that his colleague had no apparent recollection of what happened between them a few hours ago. He gazed at the coffee table with narrowed eyes, torn as to what he should do. After a few seconds of contemplation, the machine concluded that for the sake of solving the remaining cases, it'd be best to keep the incident confidential until he found a proper time to bring it up. "Are you comin' or not, Robocop?" Gavin placed a hand on his hip. Richard snapped out of it and walked over to the detective's workspace with hurried footsteps.