Birds of a Feather

by Just_K

Summary:

Gavin's been on his own for a very long time. Loneliness is something he's grown accustomed to. With no relationships, and hardly even friendships.

But that's okay. Eventually everyone leaves, so it's better this way.

Or so he thought.

Notes:

We're baaAACCKK!!

Gavin x Nines centered story obviously, but definitely some domestic background Hank x Connor.

This directly ties into my previous fic, A Symptom of Being Human- so if you haven't read that, there might be some things that clearly aren't cannon or maybe lack context but I don't think it'll be a huge deal?? But there are spoilers if you intend to or are currently reading that fic.

That being said, I've been really excited to share this with you! And I really hope you like it :)

Chapter 1: Interesting

One could say that Gavin Reed’s love life was nonexistent. That’s a fact he’s come to accept by now. Sure, he’s got the occasional hook up to get him through a long week, but as far as dates?  

Fuck, he hasn’t been on one of those in years.

And, really, it’s better this way. He’s got a lot of baggage from a heavy childhood and a few more skeletons in his closet than the average guy. On top of that, his time is very much dedicated to his work. He spends his nights hunched over his desk. Staring into the monitor until his eyes burn, waiting in anticipation for a lead on any given case he’s handed or even just to avoid his lonely apartment.

Which, again, isn’t so bad. He’s got a VR headset to pass the time when he’s bored out of his fucking skull and a cat who makes him feel a little less alone. A little black tabby he rescued a couple years back who’s got a soft spot for him, and only him it seems. Given her truculent nature to literally anyone else. She’s just about the only family he has. Everyone he’s tied to by blood is either dead or gone.

And no relationships. Hardly even friendships. His lieutenant was closely becoming an exception to that, but Gavin tries to keep his distance still- given his rocky history with the older man’s better half- like he’s stuck waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hank will despise him again soon; it’s only a matter of time- and that’s okay!

It’s better this way.

Or so he thought.

 

---

 

It’s a Wednesday and he’s having a shit morning already. Woke up late and forgot to switch his laundry the night before, so his pants were still damp from the half assed attempt he made to see how dry he could get them in under twenty minutes. Then proceeded to hit every red light on his way in, having finally said, “fuck it,” and turned on his police lights like a fuckin’ asshole. Just to roll up and find that some asshat with a gay ass motorbike parked in his goddamn spot-

Gavin runs a hand through his hair, breezing out of the break room now with a room temperature coffee that he’ll have to settle on, because he’s still exhausted from the night before- and sore too, on account of chasing down a suspect in some stupid storefront robbery. Something he’s bound to get his ass chewed for either by his respective lieutenant or Captain Fowler himself.

“It’s too soon,” Hank’s gonna say. He can hear it now. Given the fact that Gavin took a bullet only eight months ago. But hey, the guy matched the description for an ongoing homicide case he’s currently working and he’s not gonna let some near death experience get in the way of him solving the damn thing.

He finds his desk, shaking the mouse up by his keyboard as he settles into his assigned swivel chair. Activating the monitor. This coffee’s disgusting but he takes a swig anyway, on a mission entirely all on his own for petty vengeance.

“Excuse me.”

Gavin doesn’t dignify this posh, over polite sounding voice with even an upward glance. He’s too busy hacking the security footage to see who parked in his fucking spot.

And usually, when he ignores people, they go away.

Not this time.

“I’m looking for Lieutenant Anderson.”

Guy can’t take a hint. Gavin sighs in a deeply nuanced sort of breath and slams a hand down on his desk.

“Hey, man, if you’ve got a statement to fill out, you can wait in the lobby like everyone el-” 

He stops. Foot in mouth. Before him, standing tall and impatient, is an all too familiar face. Close to one he’s seen about a hundred times over, but different. An android he’s met only once before at a policeman’s swear in ceremony that he’d attended for Connor. He only remembers because how could he forget? He’d made a fool of himself then and-

And he’s making an ass of himself now. Mouth agape still, staring up as a searing set of winter irises returns his wide eyed gaze.

“Hey, um..”

He snaps his fingers, trying to remember this guy’s name. Unsure as to whether he ever caught it to begin with.

“I’m called Nines.”

“Nines! Right- sorry. Uh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Anderson?” He stammers. Kicking himself because there’s absolutely no reason that he should be stumbling over his words like this.

“Correct,” the android speaks flatly. His expression seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of a subtle scowl, or maybe Gavin’s just pissed him off. It’s hard to say. His mood ring is blue, if that’s any consolation. Dressed in all slim fitting black. From his turtleneck all the way down to his polished ankle boots. Dreary, Gavin thinks. But it accentuates his slender form and broadens his shoulders all in the same breath. Giving his ivory skin a sort of glow in contrast to the darker material.

Gavin peers up over his desk, scanning the bullpen with a quiet hum.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s in right now, but his desk’s over there if you don’t mind to wait,” he says, sinking back into his chair. Nines seems to consider this for a moment before his eyes dart.

He cocks his head curiously. “Surveillance?”

Gavin takes another sip from his coffee, lounging back as he runs the tape. “Yeah, some dumbass parked their piece’a shit motorbike in my spot and I’m tryna find out who,” he grumbles. Trying his damndest not to think about this android’s looming presence or his encompassing stare.

Nines stuffs his hands in his front pockets.

“How unfortunate.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

He can feel the heat rising beneath the collar of his shirt. A product of being under the microscope. Gavin wasn’t self conscious by any means, however, it’s been a while since anyone’s looked at him for longer than one short winded conversation at a time and this guy doesn’t seem to understand that it’s rude to fucking stare.

“What do you intend to do once you find the culprit?”

“Hm?”

Nines apparently doesn’t like to repeat himself, luckily, Gavin heard him the first time.

His brain is just mush right now. Definitely because of the rough start he had this morning. 

No other reason.

Gavin clears his throat. “Uh, I dunno. Drag him outside by the hair and make him move the damn thing?” He hadn’t really planned that far ahead and he wasn’t really sure if he was going to confront the guy to begin with. He’s mature enough to recognize that quarrelling over a parking spot was childish and unnecessary, however, he slips into a tough guy persona when he’s nervous- not that he's nervous, of course not- a front that he’s developed over the course of his aforementioned rocky childhood and having to fend for himself from a really young age.

“Interesting.”

There’s that word again. He’d said it the first time they met, and he didn’t even really say it to Gavin. Just.. In regards to him. It echoes on replay in his mind and then starts to really flush. Thankfully, a familiar figure with a heavy coat and bow legged gait catches his eye before he can really think about it. Gavin perks up and sets his cup down. Half standing from his chair as he hollers from across his desk.

“Hey, Anderson!”

The older man stops mid stride, seemingly annoyed as he meets Gavin’s gaze. 

He’s got words for him, that much is sure. Gavin can read that crystal clear in the way that Hank saunters up with a hard scowl.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Reed says, feigning innocence as he sits once more. He’ll put off sparring with the older man for as long as he can, and the android’s presence beside him seems to aid in that as Hank redirects his attention.

“Is Connor okay?”  

Of course that’s the first thing out of his mouth. Gavin can’t blame him for that. Tin Can had only just started at his new precinct after having a pretty rough go of it when he’d attempted to come back to this one. One of those skeletons Gavin’s afraid to uncover given the sleep he’s already lost over it and the moral dilemma it’s caused him.

Nines turns to Hank and nods. “He’s on patrol, but that’s not why I’m here, Lieutenant. I was given instructions to report to you about a homicide case that I am investigating. We think it may be connected to a series of events happening in your district,” he explains.

“I thought you worked privately,” Hank rebuttals with his arms crossed. Nines nearly matches him in height, a foreign sight given the lieutenant's mighty stature.

“I do. The precinct hired me for this one.”

“Shit, alright.”

Hank turns to the younger detective, who’s thus far been making a very poor attempt to remain focused on his computer screen, glimmering with something close enough to mischief that makes the younger man shoot him a sour look up from the monitor. “I’m sure by now you’re familiar with Detective Reed. He can get you caught up on all the information we’ve got pertaining to the murders we’ve been investigating and accompany you to one of the sites if you’re interested. We just got another hit last night. Body’s in the morgue, but the crime scene’s still fresh. Feel free to take a look around.”

Nines nods along attentively and Hank stops short before he goes. Leaning over the shorter man’s desk with a lowered, more serious tone.

“You and I are gonna talk later about the bullshit you pulled yesterday,” he says, like it holds any weight.

It does.

He stalks off before there can be any kind of retaliation from the younger detective. Gavin simply folds his arms over his chest and grumbles. 

“Whatever,” he mutters. 

Seems like his day just keeps getting better and better.

“Shall we?”

He looks up, Nines is now staring at him expectantly.

“Shall we what?”

“I’d like to visit the crime scene your lieutenant has just mentioned,” he says. Gavin snags an evidence tablet and waves it with a level of annoyance.

“You don’t wanna compare notes first?”

Nines simply stares at him. 

Yeah. Definitely doesn’t like repeating himself.  

Gavin sighs again. So much for the parking situation. He closes out of the screen and begrudgingly pushes his chair away from his desk. Lacking any kind of motivation as he stands and tosses that same tablet down.

“Fine.”

 

---

 

It’s getting colder again, the sun hiding behind the clouds does nothing to counter this as Gavin’s breath hangs in the air. He pops the collar on his leather coat, swearing bitterly to himself as he gazes down the street where his car is parked at the end of the block. Wishing his pants weren’t still damp and that he didn’t live in a state with perpetually gloomy, shitty weather.

Meanwhile, Nines floats down the steps completely unbothered by the cold.

And approaches the motorbike.

Gavin’s blood freezes, his face goes completely white.

Oh, fuck.

“What was it you said?” The android swivels. Heels clicking as they come together. As if snapping to attention. “‘Drag him outside by the hair and make him move the damn thing?’ I’m paraphrasing, of course. But I could play it back to you in real time if you’d like.”

Gavin blinks, completely gobsmacked. He fails to find the words.

Nines brushes the imaginary dust off of one shoulder and checks his cuticles. Then flashes Gavin those blue eyes like he’s flashing a blade. Challenging.

“I’m waiting.”

Gavin reels. Finally, he settles on a piss poor excuse. Honest, but piss poor.

“Listen, I’m havin’ a rough morning-”

Nines raises that same hand, like he’s offering some phony truce. “No worries, Detective.”

Gavin scratches the back of his head, stepping closer. “No really, I got a bad habit of saying some dumb shit.”

Nines turns and plucks his helmet from where it sat over the handlebars. It’s black and shiny- the entire bike is black and shiny. 

“I haven’t noticed.”

Was that sarcasm?

“I think we’re starting off on the wrong foot here-”

Nines says nothing. He tucks that helmet under one arm and mounts his bike, Gavin struggles to understand why grovelling to this motherfucker is suddenly so damn important. He never backtracks or apologizes for his shitty behavior, not even on a good day.

But for some reason, it’s imperative that he does so now- and he’s grappling to know why.

“It-It might be easier if we ride together. We can take my car-”

“I prefer to ride alone,” the android quips. His hand unsheathes and he sets it over the handle in what appears to be a wireless startup- as if he’s connected to the damn thing. The entire sports bike comes to life with a loud roar, one that lulls into a gentle purr as it idles. Nines sends him a sideways glance, similar to the one he’d passed at the policeman’s ceremony. 

“This way you get your spot back once we’re finished,” he says, almost like he’s baiting him or something. Gavin wonders if he were designed to be so dispatched. Part of that infuriates him, because it makes Nines a little more difficult to read. He’s equally as blank as he is encapsulating, like a shark waiting for that first drop of blood in the water. 

But Gavin’s clever too when he wants to be. He picks up on the subtle shit that most people wouldn’t second guess, or it just flat out slaps him in the face sometimes. He’s been off his game lately. Blame it on the burnout.

But here’s a spark.

Like how they’re almost eye to eye even though Nines is seated on his motorbike, giving the human more insight into the iridescent window panes of his steely gaze and a look at how, despite the incandescence of his stare, his ears twitch only slightly. Like a pulse. 

He’s thinking. 

Interesting.

But what is he thinking about?

Gavin narrows his eyes. 

Two can play at this game.

“Suit yourself,” he sneers, and whips out his phone. “Give me your number. I’ll shoot you the address-“

The PI’s temple flutters; his phone beeps and a little android pairing notification banner lights up the screen. 

RK900, “Nines,” would like to connect with you.

Gavin rolls his eyes this time. 

Right. 

“Got it, thanks,” he mutters. 

Nines adorns his helmet. The visor is tinted, so Gavin can’t read the lack of expression surely hiding beneath it. He steps back, it’s like talking to a wall. 

“Okay, so I’ll just meet you at-“

Nines revs his engine. Loudly. It cracks and pops almost obnoxiously before he speeds off without another word. Gavin just stands there a little dumbfounded, a little pissed off. Still standing in the middle of the street as he watches him leave.

“Fuckin’ prick.”

 

---

 

Turns out Nines is a petty asshole too. He says next to nothing the entire time they’re scoping out the residence of their crime scene. Gavin stops trying to brief him and starts to just meander around while Nines inspects. Taking note of the blood spatters on the wall, the chair knocked over in the dining room and the broken blades from the knives used to mutilate their victim. Pretty brutal, Gavin hasn’t seen a crime like this since he first got his detective badge.

He mentions simple facts of the case, drops them here and there as Nines continues making his rounds. That LED working like a gentle strobe light as the information is processed. Time of death, number of stab wounds. Things he can’t gather without the body, but Gavin’s sure he’ll swing by the morgue on his own once they’re done.

In closing, Nines had straightened. They were standing in the living room. The place taped off and scattered with evidence markers.

“She fought back. There’s traces of thirium,” he’d stated simply. Gavin had crossed his arms and drew the connection.

“An android did this.”

Nines had brushed past him on his way out. A snide remark on his tongue that lit the shorter man ablaze.

“Very good, Detective.”

Needless to say, Gavin left that house even more pissed off and ready to rage. He didn’t get out of bed this morning to be undermined by some plastic d-bag with a superiority complex, and he for damn sure wasn’t going to be taking orders from one either.

He replays it in the car, gripping the wheel and clenching his teeth.

“Run a background check. See if the victim was a previous owner. Maybe run her social media as well, see where her politics lie.”

“You’re a fucking computer. Run it yourself.”

“Are you always this pleasant to work with?”

“Are you always such a dick?” Gavin growls, to no one in particular. It was much later. They had parted ways back at the residence and he was already on the tail end of his day. He turns up the stereo and tries to simmer down. He’s got a habit of letting shit like this get to him, having struggled enough already trying to prove himself time and time again that he’s not some idiot with a badge. He earned this shield, no programming required. 

A thought that only makes him angrier, because he’ll end up running the background check and the social media, and he’ll cover all the ground- not because Nines told him to- but because he’s not going to let any stone be left unturned. Not with a fresh lead and the fire he’s got under his ass.

First thing in the morning, he thinks. He takes an unexpected turn in the opposite direction of his apartment, but still a familiar route- just a different destination. He’d sent Hank a text before he left the precinct that he was stopping by. A new development in their friendship, they see each other after hours now. Weird.

Especially since Hank’s moved uptown. An accommodation for Connor. It made his commute less of a hassle. Hank seemed to be on the tail end of his career anyway, so he didn’t seem to mind that it made his a little more lengthy.

Then again, Tin Can’s got that man wrapped around his plastic finger. So, it was no surprise to Gavin that they’d moved so quickly after getting married.

He throws the car in park as he pulls up to the curb. It’s a nice little house. Two bedroom, attached garage, a nice bay window overlooking the front porch. He’s still grumbling as he climbs the steps. Dragging his boots over the welcome mat before he enters. Sumo’s bounding up to him immediately, with a happy tail and a big boof.

“Move it, mutt,” Gavin side steps him with a scowl. He’s not in the mood to be pounced on. He heads straight for the kitchen with the hound still hot on his heels. Strides across the shiny linoleum and rips open the fridge. Hank doesn’t drink the hard stuff anymore, but he’ll have a few beers on occasion. Gavin has no qualms with snagging one from the bottom shelf.

“Detective Reed?”

Connor appears under the archway, his temple flutters and settles but his eyes remain wide and surprised. Dressed still in his police uniform- sans the hat and gun holster- so he must’ve just gotten home as well.

Gavin pops the tab on his beer and tosses the cap. It clatters over the marble countertop.

“‘Sup.”

He brings the bottle to his lips. That first swig is refreshing. What Connor says next, squanders this.

He scowls, fists clenched down at his sides. “You can’t just barge in here. What if we were indecent?”

Gavin swallows with a face of disgust.

“Fuckin’ spare me the image of your sex life, Tin Can,” he says.

Connor puts his hands on his hips. Hank appears behind him- thank god, he’s still dressed.

“Well, it’s active. And you were lucky this time,” the android retaliates, sharp with the articulation. Gavin makes another face and looks to his lieutenant.

“Hank, make him stop.”

“He has a point,” the older man rebuttals, somewhat humorously. He enters the kitchen and takes a leisurely seat at the dining table. They’ve upgraded a lot of furniture since moving, but that table has remained from the old house.

“Actually, Reed, I’m glad you stopped by,” Hank continues. He’s got that edge in his voice like he’s about to start a lecture. Gavin simply leans back against the counter, ankles crossed in a casual manner.

Sumo’s still at his feet, tail sweeping the kitchen floor and his floppy tongue out in a pant. 

“We can finally talk about yesterday.”

Gavin lets his head roll back with the deep breath he exhales, already annoyed and Hank hasn’t even opened the subject yet.

Connor slides in beside the older man, having acquired a bottle of thirium. Now curiously enlivened as he looks between the two.

“Oh, what happened yesterday?” He’s practically bouncing in his chair.

“Nothing,” Gavin snaps, taking another swig. A deeper one this time. The carbonation fizzles on his tongue and buzzes all the way down.

Hank makes a broad gesture. He’s talking more so to Connor like they’re his fucking parents or something. “Dipshit here chased down an armed suspect.”

“It wasn’t a real gun,” Gavin remarks, awarding himself with Hank’s redirected attention.

“You didn’t know that. Nobody fuckin’ knew that,” the older man argues, giving Connor the space to chime in.

“You shouldn’t be pursuing any armed perpetrators right now, Detective Reed. You’re still healing.”

Gavin’s quick to clap back. Sharp tongued and narrow eyed. “Not that it’s any of your business, Tin Can, but I was cleared to resume all physical activity months ago.”

“Reed.”

That’s a warning from Hank. It goes unheeded.

“Sorry, but I didn’t stop by so you could reprimand me in front of your robo twink.”

“Gavin.”

“Nevertheless,” Connor injects, taking no offense, but clearly unamused. “It can take up to a year for your body to fully recover. You should be more considerate, and maybe try not to catch any more bullets in the meantime.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Hank says, leaned back in the chair all smug and triumphant like he’s won the fucking argument. Gavin huffs, and pushes off the counter.

“Whatever. I’m out of here,” he mutters. He goes to take another long drag, but stops himself halfway. The bottle’s still raised as he speaks- directing the conversation to Connor.

“By the way, your buddy Nines- real piece of work. I’ll be happy if I never have to work with him again,” the words come off his tongue in a hateful spat. He drinks and Connor considers this, appearing somewhat crestfallen at the idea of someone disliking his newfound companion.

“It’s to my understanding that he’s investigating an ongoing case between precincts,” he mentions thoughtfully.

Gavin finishes his beer. His voice comes out in a rasp, lagar glistening on his upper lip. “Yeah, sounds like he’s Hank’s problem then. Since I can’t be out in the field if I’m still recovering,” he adds, snarky and bitter as he tosses the bottle into a flip up trash can.

“I’m just telling you to be more careful, jackass.”

“Careful doesn’t stop the bad guys, ol’ man,” Gavin finger guns him and navigates his way around the large mound of fluff now lazing on the floor. He hears the groan of a kitchen chair being pushed out from behind. Hank follows him to the door as if to show him out- Gavin knows his way out.

“Well, thanks for stopping by and.. Drinking my beer,” the seasoned lieutenant dramatically sighs. Gavin’s got his hand on the knob.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow, asshole,” he shoots him a snotty grin, because that’s become their dynamic lately. He’s a little shit and Hank’s starting to put up with it for some reason.

Connor’s behind him however, standing back at a distance. A cryptic reminder, because it’s unclear where they stand. Gavin suppresses the remorseful ache in his chest as he turns back to the door. Only just catching the, “later, dipshit,” that Hank returns on his way out.

It’s only temporary. It’s only a matter of time, Gavin thinks. Nobody stays, everyone leaves.

And that’s okay. He makes it home after the sun is set and the streetlights are sparkling on wet pavement. He turns the key to his tiny apartment and steps into the dark, flicking the light on by the door. He lets out a sigh that’s been weighing him down for the better half of the day, shrugging out of his leather jacket as a familiar little mew emerges from down the hall.

“Hey, kitty girl,” Gavin coos. His voice pillow soft and barely audible in the quiet space of his compact little entryway. Edith, with a little jingle from the bell on her collar, greets him with a sleepy face and a high tail. Circling his feet as he hangs his coat.

She’s an older kitty, ten years roughly but he’s only had her for six. A black tabby with dark markings and pretty green eyes. He bends to scoop her up one handed, carrying her further into the apartment as he bypasses the empty living room. It’s relatively tidy. Decorated with modern dark furniture and a glass coffee table. His couch was perpendicular to a wide floor length window, draped with long blackout curtains. The view outside overlooked the city. They glittered outside, electric blue and indigo hues.

Gavin makes way for the bedroom, navigating in the dark. It’s a routine pattern for him. He collapses on the bed with Edie on his chest. She purrs quietly as he scratches beneath her chin. A similar set of windows allows for those same lights to luminate the space, casting a glow that lets him see enough of his beloved feline companion.

He smiles. They said she was unadoptable given her very skittish and aggressive behavior. That she’d been on the streets too long to be placed with a family. Gavin had made it a point from then on to visit her every single day. Patiently waiting to gain her trust until, finally, he did and took her home immediately. 

Now he lovingly strokes her nose. He was drawn to her at the shelter to begin with because she had a scar there too.

“What a day,” he breathes. It was..  

Interesting.  

To say the least.

Edith nuzzles against his hand and he lolls his head to the side. 

Gazing longingly out the window.

Chapter 2: Sign of Life

Notes:

Chapter warnings: brief mentions of gun violence and flash backs

Enjoy!!

Gavin makes the mistake of thinking today will be better. He even wakes up in a decent mood. Shaves his face in the shower then throws on a dark hoodie and layers it with a vest. His jeans are dry this time, and thankfully so. It’s chilly outside when he leaves, but it’s looking up.

That is, until he arrives to work and that same fucking motorbike is parked in his spot again.

He seethes at the wheel and furiously parks down the block.

“That’s my desk,” he growls. He didn’t have to look very far to find the culprit responsible for his rage. Nines was interfacing with the monitor when Gavin all but stormed in. Practically steaming.

“I am aware,” the android says simply. Dressed in another high collared shirt, black like the concept of color was beneath him or something. Eyes unmoving from the screen.

“Then move.”

There’s a rapid download of information on the monitor. Nines seemingly ignores this. 

“Did you run the background check like I asked?” 

It’s almost condescending. 

“I’m getting to it,” Gavin growls, through gritted teeth. The android sits back finally; his synth skin spills back over his hand as he does so. 

“Don’t bother,” he says flatly. “Our victim was a previous owner. I’ve already identified the android. This is our prime suspect.”

He flashes a photo of the android model on his palm. Gavin glares at the projection of it for half a second then turns his attention back to Nines.

“Shouldn’t you check to make sure that there’s ties to the other murders?” He snaps. Nines lowers his hand, leisurely laid back in Gavin’s chair. He laces his fingers together.

“Already done.”

“Great. Sounds like you’ve got it covered. Now move.”  

With a lack of response, Gavin bends, lowering himself over the desk with his weight braced on his hands. A threatening glint in his eye and a curl to his lip. “And while you’re at it,” he sneers. “Go move your faggy ass motorbike out of my spot.”

Nines doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. He’s like a stone with that vaguely unmatched stare. Completely disconnected and totally unbothered.

“No.”

Gavin inhales. 

And there’s the pulse; the head tilt. Nines lays a card out on the table; dips his toe in the water. He asks a question that’s something of a gamble.

“Going to drag me by my hair, Detective?”

“You mean that synthetic fuck boy wig they gave you? Hard pass,” Gavin breathes. Articulating his words with a venomous tongue. Nines only shrugs. What he says next makes Gavin want to flip the whole desk and smash the monitor.

“Then perhaps you should try to arrive a little earlier next time.”

He slams a fist down. “I’m already here early, you plastic prick.”  

A moving figure quickly captures his unwarranted attention. Gavin snaps his head and rushes to meet it in an angry haste.

“Hank!”

The lieutenant nearly pauses, following the sound of his own name and lets out a very disinterested exhale when he spots the younger detective.

He continues on his path, from the breakroom to his own designated corner of the bullpen.

“Yes, Detective?” He nearly groans. Gavin practically materializes at his side.

“Hey, I told you, I’m not working with that fuckin’ asshole,” he sends a vehement finger backwards in the android’s direction. 

Hank laughs at the irony of the situation.

“You don’t have a choice unless you want off the case,” he says. They’ve reached his desk by this point, Hank sets his coffee down and Gavin nearly blows a fuse.

“Why is it that I always have to drop a fucking case? Why can’t you tell fuck face back there to fuck off?” He argues. Hank furrows his brows, clearly not impressed with the younger man’s outburst.

“I don’t have the authority,” he says honestly, and he’s right. Gavin knows he is but given this year’s earlier events- what happened with Connor back in February- he also knows that Hank could pull some weight if he wanted to, thanks to the strain it put on his relationship with their captain.

“You’ve got Fowler by the fucking balls, man. Make him do it.”

“Gavin. It’s out of my hands. Suck it up or drop the case,” Hank snaps, his patience clearly waning. Gavin glowers at him, unable to suppress the rage he feels as it threatens to boil over.

“Man, fuck you,” he spits. Turning on a heel as he marches off, not particularly wanting to stick around and face the repercussions of that. He can hear Hank barking his name from behind. Evidently pissed off and maybe even a little taken aback.

“Reed.”

He just shakes his head, feeling the pulse in his temple throb as he simmers with anger.

Nines is still sitting at his desk, fingers steepled and one leg over the other casually. Gavin approaches and stops just before him, glaring.

“Done throwing your tantrum?” The android teases. Gavin grinds his teeth, wondering what in the ever-loving fuck this guy’s deal is.

“Let’s just go,” he growls. 

“Go?”

“Uh, yeah. The sooner we find our suspect, the sooner you can leave,” Gavin snaps.

“Very well then,” the android rises. He seems to never end as he does so. Gavin follows with his eyes. Annoyed at the fact that Nines looks so pleased with himself. “Let’s go.”

He follows closely behind the human as they leave, like some looming shadow. Gavin tries not to pay him any mind, grumbling to himself as he digs in his pocket for his keys.

Nines reminds him of his presence by speaking. “You wouldn’t mind driving, would you?” 

“I thought you preferred to ride alone,” Gavin quips, coming off the last step. 

Nines shrugs. “I do, but since we’ll be working together, I feel it’ll be more efficient if we ride together,” he says. Gavin rolls his eyes; the fight has left him at this point.

“Whatever,” he mutters. Nines muses with a faux politeness from behind. Close enough that his voice lingers just over Gavin’s shoulder, adding salt to the wound.

“Excellent. After all, I’d hate to lose my spot.”

 

---

 

In the car, Gavin decides it best to just ignore the android. He turns the stereo on and patiently waits for direction as he drives. Nines seems content with this, at least he’s not instigating anything. He sits quietly, having adjusted the seat earlier to accommodate his height. Gavin let his gaze linger long enough to study the taller man. Sure enough, his knees nearly met the dash. However, his hands were folded neatly in his lap and his shoulders were pulled in just a touch.

He didn’t seem uncomfortable, but Gavin absently wondered if this was why he preferred the motorbike.

Maybe it came specific to his model? He recollects seeing Nines activate it via interface, like he came with accessories or something. The thought nearly makes him chuckle as he changes lanes, coming up on a turn. He bobs his head along to the beat as a song plays quietly over the radio. The volume increases only slightly; it’s not Gavin’s doing. The action makes him perk up a little and shift his focus.

“Do you like this song?” He asks, his tone is mocking. Nines doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything either. Gavin scowls.

Weird.

He’s directed to a more dilapidated part of town, where houses are crumbling and lack any sign of life. Gavin shoots the android a quizzical look, but parks along the curb as he’s instructed.

“Where the hell are we?”

Of course, he recognizes this part of town, but he doesn’t understand why Nines brought him here. The android comes around to meet him at the front of the car, staring out at the eroding neighborhood with an unreadable expression.

“After the uprising, a lot of androids were left without a place to live. Most of which were simply turned loose with no means of employment. They convene in these neighborhoods because they’re abandoned, and androids don’t need much to survive as far sustainability,” he explains. A solemn edge in his voice. Gavin listens and follows his gaze. Scanning the area thoughtfully.

He’d never even considered any of that before, but it made sense.

“That being said, most wind up becoming damaged or shut down due to a lack of maintenance. This is more or less a graveyard,” Nines adds. 

“Where did you get the lead?” Gavin more or less wonders aloud. 

“The rubble from the shoe prints left behind at our crime scenes,” Nines answers simply. 

“And you ordered the background check so you could find a motive,” Gavin considers, connecting the dots finally. The android turns and nods. The sun bounces off his hair and gleams in his eyes.

“Precisely.”

Gavin hums, hands on his hips. He nods his head after a beat and starts to walk. With the intention of beginning their search.

“Alright, let’s go then-”

“Actually, Detective,” Nines steps in front of him like a wall, as if to block him off from moving any further. “It may be in your best interest to let me search alone. These houses are in dire conditions. You could be seriously injured.”

“Hey, man. You’re not my superior. I don’t take orders from you,” Gavin snaps. That earlier heat from his temper itches to flare. He’s already fed up with this guy, and he’s for damn sure not going to be bossed around by him.

Nines seems persistent, he doesn’t budge.

“Detective Reed, I must insist-”

The shorter man sends him the finger and pushes past him.

“How about you perch and swivel, asshole?”

For the first time since meeting, Nines’ temple flickers red and his face twitches like this has irked him. Gavin smiles smugly as he walks up ahead, more than satisfied with himself. 

Got him, he thinks. The android says nothing in response, but he follows behind like a thunder cloud as Gavin reaches the first abandoned residence on their path. A two story shell of a house with little potential to ever be repaired. The paint is chipping off the shingles and the window is boarded up with weathered planks. Gavin nudges the front door, left ajar from lack of traffic going in and out of the house. It whines on rusty hinges. Falling wide open with the persuasion from his boot as he peers in; it’s dark and dank and reeks of decay.

He looks back to Nines. The android is standing on the porch with his hands behind his back in a prim sort of stance.

“After you,” he challenges. Gavin makes a face, then turns and enters the house. Scanning the interior more curiously.

It doesn’t seem like there’s been any squatters lately. The house is relatively empty, littered with old newspapers and broken down boxes. The walls are stained from water damage; the hardwood is bowed in some spots. A product of the weather getting in from open or busted windows. Gavin considers all of this while remembering the image Nines had shown him earlier of their suspect. Searching for any evidence that might suggest that an android has been here.

He turns, Nines had been inspecting the other room. He comes out, clearly engaged in searching for clues all the same.

“Should we check upstairs?”

“Sweeping the entire residence would be ideal,” Nines retorts. Gavin scoffs this time.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head as he reaches the stairs. They’re in a similar condition of disrepair. Gavin tests out the bottom step, making sure it’s stable before he starts to ascend. Nines is right behind him. Gavin tries not to think about that and instead focuses on the task at hand.

The upstairs is worse for wear in comparison. Part of the roof is missing, exposing one of the bedrooms to the elements outside. Mold and plant life has started to grow. 

“Yeah, I don’t think anybody’s been here in a while,” he states, speaking loud enough so Nines can hear him from the other room.

“Very astute, Detective,” the android calls back. This time Gavin huffs, stalking past the doorway. Nines is examining a broken dresser, checking the drawers and the items inside.

“You know, you could have just left me back at the fuckin’ precinct if you wanted to do this on your own,” he says. Nines closes the drawer, looking at him with a dull expression.

“I’m not employed by the police department, so the only way I get quicker access to the case files is through working directly with the police. Of course, I could work with Lieutenant Anderson just as well, and that may even be easier, but it’s your assigned case and it’s not my jurisdiction to pull you off of it. So, I have no choice but to string you along.”

Gavin flares his nostrils at this.

“String me along?”

“Yes. Unless it’s decided otherwise by your superior officers- a suggestion I might consider presenting to your captain if we don’t start making progress soon.”

He steps forward, just beneath the android’s chin. Puffed up and an angry finger in his face. 

“Listen here, you plastic fuck. I’m not dropping the case. And you’re not gonna stand there and fucking undermine me just because you’re hardwired to play pretend fucking detective. I earned my fucking shield,” Gavin says, an ire in his eyes and the blood rushing to his head. Like he could burst any moment.

Nines only blinks and that pisses him off even more.

“I’m not doubting your abilities, Detective. I’m simply stating the facts. This is beneficial for me. However, we may run into some situations in which it may be ideal that you step back and let me work,” he says, monotone behind every word. Gavin sinks back, shaking with fury.

“Step back and let you work,” he parrots slowly. He sends the android and nasty glare. Blades on his tongue as he spits, “how ‘bout you go fuck yourself?”

There’s a beat between them. Nines finally speaks. 

“You’re a very irritable man-”

Gavin has to walk away before he fucking hits him- because that would now be considered assault thanks to new legislation. He turns with a growl and stalks off, raking his hands through his hair- dragging his nails over his scalp. He reaches the corridor and throws a fist at the wall, successfully putting a dent in it. Baring his teeth as he shakes out his hand. Angry and enraged. Thinking he was back on his bullshit with androids and how they were stupid and useless and good for nothing-

“Detective, I think you should-”

Gavin whips around. Set ablaze.

“You need to back the fuck off before-”

Above them, is a crack in the ceiling that starts to groan. Nines feels the rubble hit his shoulder as a piece falls. He looks up and, in an instant, moves. Just as the roof caves. Gavin doesn’t even have time to blink before he’s all but thrown backwards. His back hits the wall, the air vacates his lungs on impact. A halo opens up from the gaping hole above and a light fixture falls and crashes. Hanging only by a cord, dust floating all around in heavy, thick clouds.  

Gavin coughs, fanning the air. He looks up, wide eyed and a little dazed. Nines is staring back down at him, jaw cinched and covered in dust. One hand on the smaller man’s chest and the other above Gavin’s head, supporting his own weight. Having shielded the human from being crushed or hit by falling debris. The action has forced them to be weirdly close, with their faces only inches apart. 

He can almost see every shade of blue in those meticulously handcrafted irises and every freckle carefully placed over the bridge of his nose. 

He can also see the hard lines of a nettled scowl and a blazing red LED. 

Another block of drywall falls behind them. Like a pin drop. 

Nines pushes back with what sounds like a huff. Brushing himself off. 

“As I was previously saying,” he glowers. “This is a hazardous environment. For your own safety, you should wait outside.” It’s the first real hint of emotion other than sarcasm and vague politeness that Gavin’s heard from him. It’s clearly annoyed and somewhat impatient, like he’s been somehow inconvenienced. 

Gavin curls his lip up in a sneer and retaliates. 

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you-”

A bulb bursts from overhead. Gavin ducks his head and swears, having jumped about a mile in the air due to the sudden noise of it. Nines merely turns to the source in a manner of surprise. Otherwise, unbothered. 

But Gavin hadn’t been expecting it. The explosion itself had sounded too much like a-

Like a gunshot. 

It sends him into a spiral. Gavin is transported from this reality back to the bus station where he was shot. Clutching his stomach, hand over the scar. Trembling. Flashes of that night flickering behind tightly shut eyes and his breaths coming out ragged. 

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. 

He lifts his hand, searching for blood through blurry vision. Ears ringing. 

“-Tective-?”

He’s gasping for air. Cold and clammy like the subway station floor. His body wracks, awaiting for the pain to set in, for his world to fade away and disappear. Slipping against the wall as a voice rings out and echoes in the faraway distance of his mind. 

“Detective Reed-“

Gavin curls in on himself. Bracing on a knee for support. Chest about to burst with how fast his heart is pounding against it. Something jostles him, hands on his shoulders. Everything comes back to him in an instant. 

“Gavin.”

He opens his eyes. The ringing has stopped and Nines is back down at his level. More so holding him up from crumpling to the floor. Gavin softly pants. Glistening from perspiration and fighting back tremors. 

Nines opens his mouth to speak. His voice is oddly soothing. 

“You need to breathe-”

Gavin shoves him away. Hard. 

“Get the fuck off’a me.”

The android seems unfazed, save for the flicker of his temple. Watching as Gavin forcefully pushes himself away from the wall and bolts. Still holding his side as he breezes down the stairs. Knees wobbly and threatening to give as he comes off the last step. 

He exits the house, into broad daylight where the cold air hits his face. He fumbles for his phone in his pocket, never breaking stride as he heads back to the car.

Fucking androids. 

Fucking motherfucker. 

He can find his own way back, Gavin thinks. Shaky hand on the screen. It won’t recognize his face for some stupid reason, so he has to type in his four-digit pin manually. 

“Fuckin’ piece’a shit,” he mutters. Still breathless and out of focus. He shoots Hank a text from where he pauses just outside the driver’s side door. 

// smthing came up. tell Fowler ill be out for the rest of the day //

// personal emergncy or whatevr //

He’s never given a shit about typos in the past and already texts like he’s in a hurry half the time, so maybe his distress won’t be picked up on by the older man. He tries not to worry about it as he enters the vehicle, tossing his phone on the dash where it clatters.

He doesn’t look up either to see if he’s been followed. He’s not so sure if he can handle another interaction with Nines right now. He’s still trying to find his bearings, trying to figure out what in the hell was even happening to him.

He’s been fine. The shot didn’t faze him, at least it hasn’t until now.

Gavin starts the car, his breaths are still quiet fragments as his heart continues to race.

He hates it.

He fucking hates it.

“Fck..” He swears, shifting into drive. He tears out of there without so much as a second thought and points his Jetta in the direction of home. Gripping the wheel.

 

---

 

It’s still relatively early when he makes it back to his apartment. By the time he parks, he feels like he’s run a marathon. Gavin shuts the car off and slumps back against the driver’s seat. Expelling a deep seated breath that he feels like he’s been holding for hours. Staring up at the building with its four stories and glass exterior. Reflecting the sun as it peeks through the clouds. He rubs his face. Afternoon stubble already coming in.

He snags his phone and exits the car. He lives on the third floor, and he takes the elevator over the stairs. Deflated and ready to call it a fucking day.

Of course, Edith is surprised to see him so soon. Her little bell tolls as she runs up to greet him. 

“Hey, pretty kitty,” Gavin mumbles, shrugging out of his vest and leaving it on the hook by the door. It’s still covered in dust from the roof caving in, something he tries not to think about as he wanders aimlessly and finds the couch, plopping down to remove his boots. He tosses them, usually more of a stickler for order in his own living space, but he’s spent and couldn’t really give less of a shit right now if he tried.

Edie hops up on the cushion beside him, her tail is erect and she’s emitting a quiet purr. Gavin strokes her back as she politely crawls into his lap. He sighs.

“You wouldn’t believe the fuckin’ bullshit I’ve had to put up with today,” he says. Edie rubs up against his chest.

“Seriously, I’ve worked with plenty of assholes in the past, but this one takes the goddamn cake.”

This earns him a head nudge. One she nuzzles beneath his chin.

What a baby.

Eventually, he has to put her down. He’s itching for a shower and comfy pants. So, he leaves the living room and enters the bedroom where he has an ensuite master bath. Shedding his clothes on the way and tossing them. Something he’ll deal with later when he has the energy to care. He finds the stand-in shower and turns the water on; stripping out of his jeans and his socks and underwear while he waits for the water to heat up.

It’s like being baptized when he finally steps in. He relinquishes a contented sigh, letting the shower rain down over his head, he pushes his hair back with the drag of both hands. Steam filling the enclosed space as the water runs. Gavin closes his eyes and lets the warmth seep into his skin before he grabs the soap and starts to lather. A mindless action. He goes through the motions. Massaging suds almost absently.

He likes showers, he likes being clean. He thinks of bubble baths he’d have as a kid, with his toy boats in the water. His mother used to stick him and his brother both in the tub when they were still little enough. Before they had to start boiling their water just to take a warm bath. Gavin feels his throat constrict. These thoughts seldom find him when he’s already feeling emotional. But his fingertip grazes the edge of his scar, just beneath his ribs and to the left, and he starts to think about the only surviving family he has left.

Of course, his brother hasn’t reached out, not since Gavin was in the hospital. He’d sent flowers and a card, with a disingenuous message that made Gavin want to rip the damn thing to shreds. He didn’t. He keeps it in his wallet, and he kept the gaudy vase too because it was the only connection he’d had to the man in years.

It feels pathetic almost, that he’s hanging on by mere threads. His older brother has made a point to completely erase the life he had before fame, Gavin included.

But Gavin would drop everything if he called tomorrow, if he texted tonight. Even if he wasn’t worth a visit when he was in the hospital, or the acknowledgement of a birthday card or a letter in the mail.

His shower has turned into a prison. Gavin rinses the shampoo out of his hair and shuts the water off, yanking a towel off the rack just outside the glass door. He hasn’t cried in years, hasn’t shed a single fuckin’ tear, and he’s not going to start now. Even if his chest hurts and everything feels so raw. A product of his shitty week, he thinks. Drying quickly, avoiding the foggy mirror on the wall over the sink.

He leaves the bathroom and dresses in a simple white tee and a pair of tapered sweats. He’s got two missed calls from Hank that he ignores and a message from Captain Fowler confirming his absence.

Edie follows him around the house like a little shadow. She’s used to being fed when he gets home, unfortunately for her, it’s still too early.

“I don’t think so, missy,” he teases. He puts on a movie for background noise. Fast and Furious, because it was one of his favorites growing up. She makes a little noise resembling a chirp. Gavin tosses the remote onto the coffee table and picks up his boots.

He spends the rest of his day in a mind numbing haze of staring at the TV and pacing around like he’s planning to do something. Straighten the bedroom, laundry for the third time this week. He finds himself restless, constantly holding his side. Checking his phone. For what? He’s not sure. By the third Fast and Furious movie, he looks outside his tall living room window and finds that the sun has begun to recede and he sighs for the upteenth time that day.

He hates that he wonders what Nines is up to. If he found their suspect; if Gavin will go in tomorrow and the case will have been wrapped up and the android gone from his life as quickly as he entered.

Good riddance, he thinks bitterly. Finding the strength to move from the couch as he pads into the kitchen. It’s small, there’s an island lined with barstools. Slate granite countertop to accent the black painted cabinets. A display case by the window housing the vase his brother gave him. The red is obnoxious and stands out like a sore thumb in his otherwise muted apartment, so he keeps it put away.

Gavin opens the cabinet beside the fridge and snatches an aluminum can. First things first, he must feed the tiny terror. She’s at his feet looking up with her big emerald eyes.

“Oh, I know. You haven’t eaten since the last time you’ve eaten. You must be starving,” he coos, pulling the tab. He fills her bowl and tosses the empty can. Then moves to the pantry and snags a familiar box of cereal, an off brand he used to eat as a kid and still finds himself coming back to as an adult.

He’s pulling a bowl out when an unexpected knock is at his door. Gavin straightens like a pin. Furrowed brows in the very direction of the disturbance. Even Edith has perked up from her meal.

His first initial thought: it’s Hank. He’s stopping by on his way home to check in. He never has, but Gavin doesn’t know of anyone else who’d come to visit. Not on a weekday and not without a previous invitation. Otherwise he’s at a loss.

Curiously, he abandons his cereal and approaches the door with cautious steps- wondering if he should go for his gun.

This is Detroit after all, and he’s not an idiot.

One look from the peephole makes him roll his eyes. He turns the knob and nearly rips the damn thing off its hinges.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Notes:

Hmm, I wonder who could possibly be at his door..

Also, the general consensus that Gavin has a cat has been my favorite little head canon throughout this fandom. I’m not only running with that ball, I’m sprINTING with it. That’s his kitty and he loves her <3

Thanks again for reading!!

TBC

Chapter 3: Step Backs

Notes:

Screaming. Crying.

I super appreciate all of the love!

Pls enjoy <3

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gavin snaps, he’s met with searing blue eyes staring back at him. A sheepish stance as well. “And how the fuck did you find out where I live?”

Nines moves to speak. Gavin halts him by raising a hand.

“Actually, I don’t give a fuck. What do you want?”

The android bows his head and clasps his hands. 

“I believe I owe you an apology for what happened earlier,” he starts. Gavin laughs. He laughs.

“You came here to apologize? Really? Mr. Fuckin’ Superior?” He sneers. This is gold, really. Gavin shifts in the doorway and crosses his arms. Shaking his head in mild disbelief. Nines is unmoving. Like a statue standing out in the hall, but there’s something in his gaze that he seems to struggle trying to convey. Gavin watches his temple light cycle to yellow before the android speaks again.

“May I enter?”

The shorter man scoffs. “You a fuckin’ vampire or somethin’?”

Nines responds rather dryly. “No.”

Gavin stares at him, thinking back on the events that had transpired today and how shitty it was and how pissed off it made him, but thinks, fuck it.

It can’t get any worse, he figures. Besides, it might even be worth it to watch this self-entitled jackass try to grovel and back pedal. It might even make him feel better.

“Sure, why not?” He opens the door and turns, letting Nines linger behind as they enter the apartment. Gavin doesn’t wait for him at the door; he goes back into the kitchen- which was really only strides away anyway given the open layout of the place. Thinking that this is about the point in time where he usually mentions to mind the cat. She can be a little homicidal sometimes, and has scratched unsuspecting guests before, but he decides to let that slip his mind in this case.

After all, it’s not like she could actually hurt Nines. Not in the physical sense anyway.

He turns finally, standing over the bar with the island between them as the android ambles up to stop on the other side. Gavin still has his arms crossed. Waiting.

The PI begins. “I realize my behavior this morning was unacceptable.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Ignoring this, Nines continues. Hands now behind his back, the overhead lights bouncing off the blue in his eyes. He towers over the bar, but he seems so..

Small?

“It was never my intention to upset you, Detective. I believe you said we might have gotten off on the wrong foot. For that I apologize. I know that I can come off as.. Difficult to work with,” he says hesitantly.

“That’s one way to put it,” Gavin retorts. He remains unconvinced. This guy’s been more trouble than he’s worth, and now he’s wasting his time trying to make amends.

He’s about to show him the door when a curious chitter comes up from below. Edith hops up onto a barstool, her wide eyes on the android she now sits beside. Nines devotes his attention to her, equally as intrigued and even a little..

Excited?

“You have a cat,” he states. This is a fact, and he states it. Gavin’s lips spread into a mischievous grin, he says nothing. Just sits back and observes.

Any moment now. She’s going to pounce.

Nines offers her a hand like he has a scent for her to detect. She sniffs. Gavin’s gearing up for the attack. Already with a snide, faux apology written out and hanging on the tip of his tongue. 

- So sorry she scratched you, really. She’s not normally like this-

“I like cats,” the android muses quietly. An odd thing to say because it suggests that there’s a personality under that stony exterior. Something Gavin wishes he hadn’t heard because his cat isn’t very forgiving, and it almost makes him rethink his decision to let her strike.

Oh well, it’s too late now. Edie, with her big eyes, locks in on the android. Her tail swinging as her little nose wiggles. The scar makes it look almost heart shaped. A misleading trait given her history of violence. Her canines protrude as she continues to sniff. Eyes dilating before she-

She nuzzles him. A soft little head butt against his knuckles. The smirk on Gavin’s face not only falls- it plummets.

In all his years of owning her, she has never accepted a pet from a stranger let alone shown them any kind of affection. So, this is astounding.

The PI scratches under her chin, strokes her once between the ears and finally pulls away. Seemingly content with the tiny interaction without even realizing the significance of it or the other man’s complete and utter shock.

That little shit is even purring. A loaf now on the barstool. Staring up at Nines as if she’s awaiting another rub. 

Gavin scowls at her.

She’s not normally like this.  

The android clears his throat, returning to the task at hand.

“As I was saying, I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time- and for what happened during our sweep. I wasn’t aware of your condition-”

Gavin’s attention snaps to him in an instant. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Nines tilts his head. “Your PTSD? You were shot earlier this year-”

“That’s none of your fucking business,” Gavin snarls.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Detective. It’s very common after such a traumatic-”

The shorter man leans forward on the counter. A dangerous glint in his eyes and his tone sharp as a blade. “Hey, buddy, this is not a topic of conversation we’re going to have,” he warns. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to psychoanalyze me or make assumptions about why I reacted the way I did today. So fucking drop it.”

The android is silent for a moment. His temple is calm, but his ears do that thing again where they twitch. 

“I understand,” he says finally, lacking any emotion. “In any case, I will work to be more professional moving forward. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Are we done here? I’ve had a long day,” Gavin remains glowering over the bar. Nines studies him for a moment. His eyes don’t move like a human’s; they don’t dart. They move slowly. Scanning. From the glunch lines of Gavin’s hard expression to the box of cereal left open and abandoned on the counter. Then drifts.

“Of course,” he mutters. Gavin wonders what he’s looking at before it hits him.

The display case.

He straightens suddenly, then moves. “Good, I’ll walk you out.” He takes long strides around the island. Nines seems to take the hint and follows a little more leisurely. Across the den to the front door. Gavin opens it quickly and steps aside, gesturing to the outside hallway with an underhanded motion.

Nines pauses to nod. “Good night, Detective Reed.” It’s cordial. Genuine. Gavin’s louring expression nearly wanes.

He only hums in acknowledgement, lacking any sharp remark. An anomaly, he’s usually pretty quick when it comes to clap backs and driving a wedge. He tries not to think about that and watches the PI leave instead, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

He stands for a moment, watching the peephole. Simmering.

Then whips around.

“What the hell was that?”

Edith is sitting pretty on the carpet behind him. Heavy lidded eyes staring up at him. She licks her paw in response.

He swoops down and snatches her up. Air jail is her punishment.

“You listen here, young lady, that’s enemy number one, got it? We don’t like him- and I don’t ever wanna see you making nice with him again, you hear me?”

This implies that Nines will be back.

Gavin tries not to think about that.

 

---

 

The following day is somewhat bearable. Nines stays true to his word, and they split the workload with a mutual understanding as to where the other lies. Unfortunately, they just don’t find another lead. In a case that’s already pretty cut and dry- an android hell bent on righting some wrongs, a classic tale of systematic power imbalance. The owner was the CEO of some flashy company, and their suspect was her personal assistant, but the events of the abuse took place before the uprising, so they let her walk. She never broke any laws, and they couldn’t prove that this android had already deviated during the time he was under her ownership. An unjust scenario. Laws and legislation still seem to be failing the android population in this country, and cases like this are the product of that.

Now they’ve got a dead judge, an executed lawyer, and a mutilated woman on their hands with that assistant model somewhere still on the loose- likely plotting his next move or hunkered down in hiding. With Nines scouting more neighborhoods and Gavin going back and forth between precincts- cross examining the evidence. It all comes to a dead end.

The PI had previously mentioned that androids could be hard to track, and he wasn’t kidding. They hardly left any trace behind, though the blue blood recovered matched the make and model of their suspect, it didn’t make them any closer to locating him. 

As for the rubble in the shoe print, Nines had scoured that entire section of the city and found nothing.

They reconvene Saturday morning. Gavin was used to working overtime, so he agreed to stop by the precinct and bounce some ideas around. They currently occupied the evidence room. Gavin was seated at a wide metal table with stacks of paperwork and crime scene photos. Having stared at them for so long that his eyes were starting to burn.

And Nines was seemingly restless. Driving the other detective half mad with the way he continued to pace. Interfacing with an evidence tablet. Back and forth, back and forth. Like a slow swinging pendulum. Flickering yellow more often than not as he’d tried to piece it all together. Finally, he’d stopped and set the device down on the table, across from the other man. 

“We’re missing something,” he muttered pensively. Gavin had been skimming over the eyewitness accounts for what seems like the hundredth time, the same words coming to him in a jumbled mess. Fried to the point of frustration. Two energy drinks in and already exhausted. He sets the paper down and drags his hands over his face.

“I dunno. Maybe we need’a just.. Take a step back for a second,” he says, an edge to his tenor. Nines looks up inquisitively from where he was leaning over the desk and cocks his head like a retriever.

“Take a step back?” He parrots, in a manner of question. As if such a concept were unheard of. 

Gavin snatches one of his near empty cans. “Yeah, ya know. Take a break?” He knocks it back and crushes it. Meanwhile, the PI sends him a very inert look. One that might suggest his disdain for the idea.

“A break? Detective, that is not how I operate,” he says. He sinks into a chair. Unimpressed and hyper fixated once more on his screen. Gavin shrugs. Whatever.

“Well, that’s how I operate.” 

He stands, clearing his empty cans as he strides to the recycling bin. 

“Very well, enjoy your break.”

Gavin pauses for a moment at the door. He’s not sure why. He’s still a little bitter about the other day if he’s being quite honest, but he’s been watching the android all morning. Completely immersed with that agitated ring light at his temple. Wearing the tiles down with his incessant pacing. Gavin’s been there, time and time again. A habit he’s had to learn to break.

A habit he’s starting to pick back up again.

“It might do you some good, ya know. You can come back later with a fresh set of eyes,” Gavin advises. This lands on deaf ears, Nines doesn’t seem to want to budge on the situation. He doesn’t even dignify the statement with a quick glance.

“I appreciate the concern, Detective Reed, but I don’t require any step backs or breaks. I would simply be wasting time when I could be locating our suspect.”

The detective agent just simply stares at him. A sudden urge to poke and pry.

“Do you always have to talk like such an asshole?”

Nines counters this again without looking up. “I thought I was being polite. Would you like me to change that?”

He says it like it’s a setting he can adjust.

“That wouldn’t be very professional,” Gavin sneers. It enthralls him to see that ear twitch again. He’s starting to learn that Nines does this when he’s irked or caught off guard. 

And Gavin’s notorious around the office for getting under everybody’s skin. It would be correct to assume that he even takes great pride in it.

Really, he’s not sure where that comes from. Maybe he’s just wired that way.

Or maybe he hates being so easily dismissed. 

Either way, Nines has seemingly put himself on a leash after their discussion the other night. A grave mistake when it comes to Gavin Reed. He’ll take that leash and walk him like a dog. 

But the PI says nothing, he remains engrossed in his work. Though he can feel the other man begin to simmer in the door as he awaits a retort or snarky comment. Nines will not give it to him. If there’s anything he’s noticed about this human, it’s that he’s petty and quick to anger. Neither of these attributes bother the android, so much as they intrigue him- like any human emotion considering he’s never felt them near as strong as they seem to come on for Gavin Reed.

But a promise is a promise. As much as he would love to light that match again and see where the spark goes, he must remain professional.

His silence eventually warrants solitude. Gavin huffs in the door and quickly leaves. Nines itches to let his gaze follow, only to find himself in an empty room when the impulse succeeds.

He sets the device down again. Rests his elbows on the table and interlocks his fingers. His LED spinning as he ponders.

A break?  

What a bunch of nonsense.

 

---

 

The precinct isn’t usually very lively on a Saturday morning. There’s a few stragglers of course, crime doesn’t stop just because it’s the weekend, but today it seems to be a little more empty than usual. Must be that everyone’s out on patrol. Gavin’s almost disappointed, he knew Officer Chen was floating around earlier, and she’s probably the only other officer other than Lieutenant Anderson who can put up with his bullshit. 

Not that their relationship has ever made it past the police station, still, he enjoys her company. Especially when lately, he’s been feeling a certain type of way. The other day really shook him, the flash backs. Tina was one of the only other people to visit him in the hospital besides Hank and Connor. Hell, she was there the night he was shot. So, it’s not that he would ever confide in her- because he feels bad enough that she had to see it- but her presence just might make it easier. His side has been acting up and it’d be nice to have a distraction from it.

Something he’s not likely to get. He grumbles as he finds the break room, itching to baby it as a dull ache begins to spread across the lower half of his abdomen. Doctors said he’d experienced some nerve damage, and that this was likely to happen from time to time. Nothing a little ibuprofen couldn’t fix. He snags a box by the kiosk after carefully selecting another energy drink. There’s a wide assortment of promising options. This one’s zero sugar and two hundred milligrams of caffeine, so he’ll take it. 

And it’s cherry flavored. 

Delicious. 

He pays; stuffing his card back in his wallet when instinct tells him he’s no longer alone. 

That and the security camera staring back at him from the self-checkout machine. He snatches that earlier box of pain relief and quickly stuffs it in his jacket pocket, hoping it went undetected- he doesn’t want the whole gunshot situation to become more of a thing than it already has been- and swivels his head and squints.

“You lost?”

Nines is standing a little too close for comfort. Looming over Gavin’s shoulder. He wants to tell him to back the fuck off but finds the words seem to have died on his tongue. Still, he wonders if the android has any concept of personal space, watching those blue eyes as they aimlessly scan the room. Familiarizing himself with the olive painted walls and the standard coffee bar.

What he says next, takes Gavin by surprise.

“Actually, I thought it might be an opportune moment for me to try and learn something new while I’m here.”

Gavin hums and quickly moves to one of the circular tables, slipping his phone out of his pocket in the same motion as he sits.

He lets it fall against the surface top. “Really?”

The PI approaches more languidly. His taller stature and wide gait makes for a short trip. More chirpy and sociable than he was earlier.

“Yes.”

Still, Gavin looks unconvinced. Nines is now standing curtly beside him. He seems to have a default position of folding his hands behind his back. A polite sort of stance. Gavin considers this as he studies him. Permanent frown. His black formatted attire. Today’s yet another collared shirt. His tie pinned to it with a fancy plated clip- the only trace of color on his outfit and it’s engraved with intricate filigree.

So, it’s likely custom- or it’s carefully selected. The human detective vaguely recalls the lapel pins that Nines had worn on his collar at the policeman’s ceremony months ago. Silver vines like little olive branches that had framed the fabric delicately.

This suggests a fondness for swirling patterns, Gavin thinks. Yet another notable insight into the mind of the before seemingly supercilious android.

Nines seems to take his lack of response as an initiative to further digress. “I’ll do whatever it takes to solve this case, Detective. If you believe taking a break will help us achieve that, then I’m willing to give it a try.”

Reed sends him a look. “All I’m saying is: you don’t wanna keep goin’ in circles. Trust me, that shit’ll drive you crazy. Sometimes the evidence needs to cook for a bit, ya know?” He’s not sure exactly why he’s saying all of this. It’s not like Nines will be at all receptive to such a piece of advice. He may be considered a deviant with his own thoughts and free will, but Gavin’s kind of gathered that he’s content to remain more machine than anything- and machines aren’t susceptible to burn out. Not in the general sense at least.

Nines doesn’t seem to understand the lingo anyway. His LED flickers and he looks minorly confused. 

Gavin waves him off. Oh, well. “You’ll get it eventually,” he says. Then cracks the tab on his energy drink and takes a swig. The carbonation is refreshing, and the flavoring is sweet and syrupy. It garners more attention from the android; he even quirks a curious brow.

“Another?”

In response, Gavin shrugs. Downing another sip before he swallows. Nines seems intrigued.

“Your rapid consumption of caffeine should be studied. Do you suffer from insomnia or high blood pressure?”

“Yeah, the uh, ‘rapid consumption of caffeine,’ helps with the insomnia part,” Gavin retorts, busying himself on his phone with a game of solitaire.

“Fascinating.”

There it is again. Under the microscope. It’d be easy to assume that Gavin doesn’t get a lot of attention, in fact, he’s grown accustomed to being overlooked and ignored. So, the heat rises to his cheeks pretty quickly as he starts to wonder if Nines is studying him the same way that he was studying Nines. Analyzing every little bit and piece of him as if he were some kind of an enigma to the android.

He clears his throat, hardly tearing his eyes away from his screen long enough to notice that Nines is still watching him.

“Ya know, there’s this whole precinct thing goin’ on here. You don’t gotta hover over me.”

“My apologies, Detective, but I thought this was the break room.”

Gavin fights back an eye roll. Instead, he just breathes deeply. 

“Okay, smartass, at least take a fuckin’ seat.”

But Nines doesn’t get the opportunity to oblige. He seems to grimace suddenly, fingers to his temple as his ring light flutters. Gavin snorts this time, looking up from his phone vaguely amused and taunting like a schoolyard bully.

“What’s the matter, you blow a fuse or somethin’?”

“I’m receiving a message.”

“Does the lab want you back for testing?”

Nines responds rather humorlessly. Even sends him a glare from where he stands. “It’s Eights. He is having his break as well.”

Eights. Funny, Gavin thinks. Clearly, he’s referring to Connor. 

“Well, how ‘bout that. Even Tin Can takes step backs,” he more so mumbles to himself, once more preoccupied with his game. Nines seems to consider this. His temple easing back to blue.

“Yes, he’s very wise. I can learn a lot from him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be more advanced?” Gavin's not sure if this is offensive, and he doesn't mean for it to be. But it's kind of obvious. Connor's well known for being a prototype model, and Nines was intended to be his finished product. One might think that in and of itself would make their relationship a little odd, however, they seem pretty close. Connor speaks very highly of Nines and Nines seems to have a very deep respect and admiration for Connor.

The android steps aside and sits in the empty chair from across the table. Speaking fondly and thoughtfully as if to prove Gavin's observations to be correct. “On the contrary, I believe I am only meant to be programmed with more features. Eights has.. Life experience. Emotional intelligence. He picks up on the human aspect of things that I seem to.. Struggle with.”

Gavin flashes his ash colored eyes with a tiny smirk. 

“You? No way.”

It’s meant to be a quiplash. A taunting little jab, but Gavin sends it off on much more of a playful note. Unprepared for the response it garners and how it completely shakes him; one he thought was impossible because it’s been like talking to drywall since they first began working together.

And yet, from across the table, a tiny smile tugs at the corners of Nines’ lips. A glimmer in his eyes that Gavin hasn’t seen before. One that rocks his entire

Fucking

World.

He nearly drops his phone again, just like at the policeman’s ceremony when he first laid eyes on the android. It shocked him then; it still shakes him now. It took him out of left field that day, because, despite their uncanny resemblance, he never found himself to be attracted to Connor. He was too soft, too compliant- probably the whole android thing in the beginning, but even in deviancy. Nines, however- what a contrast. He was sharper, more domineering, even when sitting idle.

And now he’s smiling. 

Barely, but he’s smiling because Gavin made him, Nines- the big, bad, ruthless RK900- fucking smile.  

Gavin could slap himself.

Get it together, Reed.

He clears his throat, reminding himself that he and Nines are not friends- they don’t even get along. That Nines is likely only smiling because they’re talking about Connor- Connor who hates Gavin and has likely spilled every bean there is to spill about him- so Nines will never like him.

To think that there’s even a remote chance, is just

Fucking

Stupid.

And that’s fine. It’s better this way. It’s-

Gavin snatches his near forgotten beverage and stands. “I’m going back downstairs,” he mutters. Nines is all perked up at the notion of getting back to work. He’s on his feet in a flash, lit up even more so, which makes Gavin want to spike his goddamn drink on the ground and jump through a plate glass window.

“Excellent. This was a nice step back. Wouldn’t you agree, Detective?” He’s adjusting his tie. Gavin bypasses him without a glance.

“Sure, whatever.” He really wants a fucking cigarette, he’s been trying to cut back, but he’s really itching for one now. He pats his jacket pockets out of habit, searching for a pack.

He only finds that earlier box of pain medication, which is funny because this entire interaction has almost made him forget that his side was bothering him in the first place. So, he’ll probably stop on his way home. A carton of smokes, a brand new lighter. He’s halfway out of the break room when he realizes Nines isn’t following him anymore and turns because he’s an idiot sometimes. The android is once more holding the side of his head, a more contorted sort of expression on his face. Gavin stops and scoffs.

“Mr. Popular over here. Connor again?”

Nines blinks, his LED is an unsteady yellow. 

“No.. It’s-” He seems distressed, but he’s quick to regain his composure. That dour look once more replacing any inkling of emotion he might've had. Like a wet blanket. “Excuse me, I must report to Captain Blaine.”

Gavin’s all ears and ready to roll at the mention of the other precinct’s leading superior. A man he remembers distantly, both in passing and in brief conversation with Connor.

“Oh, shit. Another body?”

“No, it’s not case related,” Nines passes him and stops, then turns back around. Gavin can see it’s urgent and he's eager to know why. “Would you-?”

But he knows his place, he knows where they stand. He drove that wedge and he's likely to keep on digging it in, he thinks as he wiggles the tab loose on the aluminum can he still possesses, now half empty and wet with condensation.

Deflated, he nods. Hoping he can make the crestfallen edge to his voice. “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I find anything." 

Nines swiftly spins with a muttered, “thank you.”

Gavin watches him go, unable to comprehend this feeling in his chest or why it’s consumed him so suddenly.

“Not a problem.”

So, that’s how he spends the rest of his Saturday morning. Alone and drowning in work. Pretty typical.

But that’s okay.

It has to be.

Notes:

Nines said: :)

And Gavin said: *gay panic*

Chapter 4: Good Intentions

Notes:

I come bearing Nines content.

Nines aND Connor content. My precious boys. My bambinos.

Pls enjoy :)

The ninth district police department is on the upper side of town. RK900 frequents it often even in his so-called, “down time.” So, his is not an unfamiliar face to be seen breezing past the bullpen, as he doesn’t usually stop to make small talk with the other officers. When he is present, it is strictly business and Nines likes to keep it that way.

There is one particular officer he can never seem to bypass, however, but this officer is the exception. 

“You’re in a hurry,” Connor’s voice is chipper and full of surprise and enthusiasm as he joins his stride, the two of them now walking in tandem across the polished linoleum. The station is buzzing more so than the other, Captain Blaine runs a tight ship, his officers on duty remain diligent at work, be it at the office or out in the field. The product of good leadership.

Nines admires this.

“The captain requested to see me,” he states simply. Eyes forward. He can see from the peripheral corner of his vision that Connor is clad in his neatly kept police uniform. His hands cuffs clank as they walk. His badge gleams in the overhead lights. He knows that on his chest it reads: PO Anderson and that he favors the more uniform dress shoe rather than the boots most other officers choose to wear.

“Oh. Case related?” Connor’s looking up at him, his contrasting brown eyes are curious. Nines flashes him a quick glance and shakes his head.

“Otherwise,” he mutters. Connor understands because they’ve discussed it. Briefly. Nines is very guarded in his relationship to the captain and, lately, things have been a little.. Uncertain.  

“Ah. Well, you shouldn’t worry. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine,” the smaller android calmly assures. They’re approaching the branch of the bullpen where it extends into a long corridor. Nines shakes his head.

“I don’t worry.”

Connor stops just before the mouth of the hallway, pausing curtly with a knowing grin. “Sure,” he shrugs. Nines stops and turns, sending him a look of displeasure. 

He really hates when Eights does the thing.

The thing being: knowing him more than he knows himself.

The officer rocks on his heels, all bright eyed and glowing a tranquil blue. “Did you get my message?”

He’s rather cheeky today. Despite his suspicions, Nines softens.

He always enjoys visiting the Andersons. He often looks forward to it. 

“I did,” he says. “And I accept. I’ll come by later.”

Connor beams. “Wonderful! We look forward to seeing you.”

With that, they part ways. Connor waves him off with good luck and Nines continues down the hall where a wide set of doors awaits him. Dark oak, the same color of wood that accents the rest of the precinct, given that this was older building. Nines gives it a wrap with a firm knock, something building in his core like a pressurized canister. His software can’t diagnose the issue, so he ignores it. Instead, he waits for permission to enter. Permission that is granted as it opens.

He is greeted at eye level with Richard Blaine’s wide, crinkling smile. The older man makes a show of checking his wrist watch, as if to tease.

“Nines! I see you beat the afternoon traffic.”

The android stares at him blankly, his deep complexion is more radiant than when Nines had last seen him. So, his fever has surely broken, but his neck remains a bit swollen. The PI gives him another once over with this thought in mind, searching for any more signs of incurable illness as he notes the older man’s more casual state of dress. The captain normally opts for a suit and tie when he’s present at the office, but today he is dressed in a light pink button up shirt and a nice pair of slacks. Suggesting that he’s been floating around town as a civilian rather than a police captain. Which makes sense, given the nature of his call.

“Yes, I left right away. Did your results come in?”

“Always straight to the point with you, isn’t it?” More teasing, all light hearted and good fun, but it’s true. Nines doesn’t believe in dancing around the subject. He prefers to be direct.

Knowing this, Captain Blaine steps aside, letting the android enter his spacious office as he retreats to his desk. It’s off the wall, center to the room and facing the door. Tall windows helped to luminate the space with the white light of the sun reaching in. Nines approaches one of the two armchairs placed in front of the captain’s desk with no real intention of sitting. He’s still waiting for the older man’s report like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Having learned in the past not to have any type of expectations when it comes to situations like this.

But, he had made it clear that he wanted to be present for whatever news. Good or bad.

He can assume, however, given the older man’s expression of glittering amusement and jovial tone, that the news he is about to receive leans more on the positive side. Still, the captain seems to be milking the anticipation for all that he can. 

Finally, he smiles. Still standing from behind his desk, hands in his pockets. “Doc says I’m gonna make it. I’ve got surgery scheduled and then a few rounds of chemotherapy to look forward to. But. I should make a full recovery.”

Nines feels what he assumes humans would call, “relief.”  

Really, he shouldn’t be all that surprised, and he kicks himself for even being concerned. This form of cancer is highly treatable when in its early stages, still, humans are such fragile machines and Nines was-

Nines was worried.

Afterall, he and the captain have become very close since meeting each other. Nines having met him on the street only months after the uprising. Damaged and low on thirium. He recalls the memory distantly.

“Excuse me. You’re dripping.”

A keen observation, Nines had thought as he’d turned. Gentle specs of snow falling from a twilight sky and dusting over his worse for wear Cyberlife jacket. A blue dotted trail left in his wake as he’d trudged on with no destination in mind. His only objective that night had been to keep moving, lest his joints lock and freeze between the dwindling temperatures and his depleting thirium reserves.

It was Captain Blaine’s face that he saw first, in his heavy police coat with his flashing lights behind them. He’d been in the area for, “suspicious activity.” Nines wonders if someone had seen him wandering around the suburban streets and called it in. Regardless, Captain Blaine had been fixated on the android’s arm where he held it tightly. Synthskin receded beneath his sleeve all the way past his elbow. It had been difficult to not to be wary, no human had shown him kindness since his activation. But he took a chance on Captain Blaine just as he had taken a chance on him. What was supposed to be one night of sanctuary, turned into getting Nines back on his feet.

With the help and acceptance of the captain’s wife, of course. The lovely Dr. Janice Blaine- a renowned pediatrician, who welcomed him with open arms.

They never could have a family of their own, Nines ponders this sometimes when he thinks back on their generosity and their continued support. Maybe that’s what made bringing him in so easy. Whatever the case may be, Nines only knows that, without them, he would’ve shut down on the streets. 

Or in an old, dilapidated house. 

And equally, Nines has been a rock for the both of them. So, it was needless to say that he and the captain both held each other in very high regards.

“Excellent. This is very good news,” he says. 

“Yes, I agree.” 

Nines turns to leave. 

“Whoa, hey. We’re not done here.”

He turns back around with a scowl. Captain Blaine motions to the armchair.

“Have a seat.”

Begrudgingly, the android obeys, but he’s more reluctant this time. He plops down on the cushion, jaw cinched and his gaze unfaltering. This earns him a deep seated chuckle, one that bubbles from the police captain’s chest.

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long. I know you value your time.”

Nines watches him sink into his own leather chair behind the desk, interwoven hands over his abdomen as he lounges back. His usual militant demeanor seemingly on the back burner. Of course, Captain Blaine was always easy going off duty. A night and day contrast compared to the steadfast authoritarian leader he becomes when present in the bullpen or out in the field. 

But Nines knows where this is going, why the older man is seemingly so blasè, so he’s already checked out. There’s more important things to be doing rather than to be giving a personal progress report- more important things to be thinking about. 

Like the make and model of their suspect. 

By now they should have a warrant out for his arrest. The evidence alone is proof enough that he did it. 

His whereabouts. The rubble in the shoe print.

Nines has searched that neighborhood high and low, but he hasn’t found a single trace. Perhaps he should be looking elsewhere. Afterall, those buildings are falling apart. 

One nearly came down on top of them. Him and Detective-

Gavin. 

What a peculiar individual..

“- S’the investigation going?”  

“Hm?”

Captain Blaine moves to repeat himself. “I said-“

“I know what you said.” It’s snappy. Nines hates repetition. It’s a waste of time. 

The older man pensively squints. “You’re distracted.”

A bold understatement and Nines is frustrated because of this. 

“We’ve hit a wall. Our suspect continues to evade me,” he mumbles. Having crossed one leg over the other and set his elbow atop the armrest and his chin on a closed fist in a pose of deep thought. 

Captain Blaine absorbs this with a quiet hum. “Well, you’ll get him. You always do.”

Indeed. Nines is ten for ten when it comes to tracking down and cracking a case. He’s got his predisposition of being Cyberlife’s most advanced detective model to thank for that and his experience of living on the streets. Making him the ideal investigator for android specific cases, a talent Blaine was quick to sniff out in those early days of them knowing each other. 

But Captain Blaine had ulterior motives in hiring him this time, because he knew what it would entail. 

Much to the reclusive PI’s deepest demise. 

“I understand you’re working with a partner over at the other precinct. Detective Reed, was it?”

He says it so smug. The bastard. Nines simmers. Having yet to realize the physical tick he’s developed. A subtle twitch of the ears he uses to mask the flicker of his LED. Like a predatory cat when it hears a twig snap. He does this as he holds the other man with his hardened stare.

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t tell me everything at once, Nines. I’d hate for you to over exert yourself,” Blaine says. Being sarcastic. The android sighs, a human trait he’s picked up somewhere along the way. Speaking acerbically. 

“He’s abrasive and hot tempered. We were off to a rough start, but things are amicable at the moment.”

Captain Blaine smiles. “So, you’re getting along then?”

A pause. Nines slowly nods. “There may have been an incident the other day, but I’ve apologized.”

Face drop. The captain is no longer amused. 

“Nines.”

The android says nothing. He’s already apologized, where he wasn’t even entirely at fault. His behavior was simply provoked, and yeah, maybe he was goading a little bit- but Gavin shouldn’t have insulted his bike or blown him off when he was only looking out for the other man’s safety and wellbeing. 

Stupid. Stupid human. For someone so decorated, he sure seems like an idiot, he thinks. Must be how he got that funny scar on his face. 

Absently, Nines wonders if he has any other scars. Surely the bullet he took had left a lovely reminder, and he seems like the impulsive kind of officer to rush an assailant with no such precautions. So, he’s likely seen his fair share of scuffles and brawls that resulted in cuts and scrapes amongst other petty injuries. 

The captain seems displeased. A little deflated even. Nines can see it in his eyes suddenly. 

And that is unsettling. 

“I need you to make a real effort here,” he says, more seriously this time. As if to convey his own concern with the android’s standoffish nature and poor social habits. 

But Nines is having none of it. 

“This is ridiculous. I’m not joining the force,” he snaps. Harsher than he meant to, but he wants to be clear. He doesn’t need a partner or workplace comradery. This idea that Captain Blaine has in his head of Nines someday taking his place or working amongst him is, as he just said: ridiculous. 

And ill conceived. And even a little juvenile. It’s to his own understanding that these feelings come from more than just admiring his dedicated work ethic. Captain Blaine has a soft spot for him, because they’re close and he wants more for the android than this reclusive life he’s chosen, and half of these conceptions of who he thinks Nines should be and what he should be doing stems greatly from that. 

It’s all good intentions. Richard Blaine simply cares too much about an android that he now feels responsible for. One he sees far too much potential in as if Nines isn’t content to live out the rest of his existence jumping from one case to another until it leads him into oblivion. 

As if to prove this point, Captain Blaine makes another half-hearted attempt to further persuade the android, as if it’ll change anything. “If you really think so, then drop the case. Let this Detective Reed handle it. He seems.. Capable. But this could be good for you. I really think you’d be an excellent-“

To no avail. 

Nines drops his hand away from his face and straightens. “Captain Blaine. We’ve discussed this. I work better alone.”

Blaine feigns a disappointed sigh. “That’s a shame. It would have been my dying wish.”

“Lucky for me then, because you’re not dying,” Nines retorts. 

“I won’t be around forever.”

He stands. “Are we finished here? I have work to do.” Past the point of being annoyed and becoming irate. 

Defeated, Blaine swivels lazily in his chair. He realizes an uphill battle when he sees one. 

“Yeah, we’re finished.” Nines turns to leave. Long, quick steps carry him to the door. A firm hand on the knob. 

Captain Blaine’s resonant voice still hollers behind him.

“But play nice out there. I mean it.”

He can play nice, Nines thinks. But it doesn’t change anything. 

 

---

 

Gavin’s no closer to locating their suspect by the time he leaves the precinct. Even after sifting through every last bit of evidence they had- partly because he was too distracted. With his head still spinning from earlier. That stupid little grin still had him ten kinds of ways fucked up and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Begrudgingly, he scrolled through his list of contacts, thinking maybe he just needed to get laid when his phone buzzes on its own. A message banner appears on the screen, one that takes him aback for a second. He stands outside of his car, an autumn chill hanging in the air and the smell of frigid rain drying on the pavement.

The text reads:

[ if youre done being a dipshit you can come by the house later ] 

He looks it over a few more times. Despite the fact that he frequents Hank’s place on a regular basis, it is very rare that he ever does so with an invitation. He responds like the little shit that he is, knowing damn well it’s pressing buttons he shouldn’t.

// you sure the wife wont mind ?? //

The ol’ man’s quick to text back. Gavin figures he’s likely sitting by his phone.

[ my huSBAND doesnt give a shit as long as you promise to behave ]

Reed snickers, opening his car door. He types out another quick response and starts the vehicle.

// gaaayy //

// ill be there in a lil bit //

He wants to swing by the apartment first if he’s going to be staying out. Feed the cat, perhaps change into something a little more casual. Not that his attire at work was ever formal, still, it’s like decompressing. Shower, fresh clothes, maybe a six pack on the way over- because he’s not a complete jackass. He knows that poking fun at Connor and drinking Hank’s beer is a little excessive sometimes.

And he hasn’t quite apologized for snapping at Hank the other day anyway, and he knows that’ll likely be brought up later. So, it’s best if he plays his cards right. For whatever reason.

So, that’s exactly what he does. He’s home for roughly a few hours. Edith is given plenty of rubs and an early dinner, Gavin showers and throws on a faded hoodie. Sporting a vintage Detroit Lions logo. It’s a little big on him, but he was going for comfort anyway and the fabric’s pretty soft and worn from years of appreciation. He pairs this with dark wash fitted jeans and doesn’t bother to brush his hair back- it’s just Hank’s place. He figures they’re likely just to drink and shoot the shit while Connor flutters in and out the room.  

He stops for a moment. Halfway into a pair of converse, the laces untied and tucked away for convenience sake. Thinking, he really appreciates nights like this. Sure, it foiled his plans for a hookup, but when Gavin looks back on the last few years, he’s glad to see this sort of change. Even if his only.. Friend?

Is Hank his friend?

Yeah. Even if his only friend is a fifty something year old man. As pathetic as that sounds. At least he’s not alone. Not right now anyway. 

The thought makes him uneasy. The word, “temporary,” circles his mind like a vulture. Gavin shoos it away as he grabs his keys and leaves the apartment. 

 

---

 

He stops at the 7/11 on the way and picks up a small case of beer and a pack of cigarettes. A pack he doesn’t intend to crack but keeps in the front console of his dash. Thinking at the very least that he’s got one if he needs it, then pulls up to the Anderson’s after dark and exits the car. Thinking nothing of anything until he straightens and looks out at the street. Lit up by various lamps in dim yellow light.

And that’s when it hits him.

The silhouette of the motorbike.

Parked just up ahead beneath a streetlamp. Gavin swallows.

Really, he shouldn't be all that surprised. The androids were conversing earlier, surely that’s when Tin Can must’ve invited him over. Though vaguely he wonders, as he shifts his gaze to look up at the house, what Hank was thinking when extending the invitation. After all, he knows where Gavin’s attitude lies with the other android. He knows of his reluctance to work with the surly PI and their shaky start. So, again, he wonders: what the fuck is the old man playing at?

But whatever, no big deal. Gavin can play it totally cool. Nonchalant even. Like he never saw the damn thing in the first place. Like he wasn’t skeptical of Hank’s invitation now that he’s seen it. He walks up to the door with an unhindered step and knocks, because Connor got a little snippy last time- and, really, Gavin knows he’s on thin ice with him already. He hears Sumo on the other side, his mighty bark bleeds through the front door and the bronze knob turns. Hank greets him with a look of surprise, clad in a deep blue flannel. His hair swept back and his beard neatly trimmed.

“Holy shit, you know how to knock,” he says, feigning astonish. Gavin holds up his six pack.

“Yeah, and I brought my own beer too,” he quickly remarks. Hank steps aside to let him in, hollering from across the room.

“Connor, check the weather. I think hell just froze over.”

The android pops his head out of the kitchen curiously. Meanwhile, Sumo’s bounding up to check out all the commotion. His breath in heavy pants and his tail sweeping in a wide motion.

Connor looks their unimposing guest up and down, unimpressed.

“It is supposed to get below freezing this week,” he humorlessly informs. Gavin sends him a look, kicking his shoes off by the door that Hank closes behind them. He doesn’t retort, not for lack of having one, but because he promised to be on good behavior.

And speaking of good behavior..

Another android appears beneath the archway, taller by at least a few inches. Gavin nearly fumbles- he blames it on the fact that Sumo’s trying desperately to get under his feet and the weight of his six pack already has him off kilter- but Nines- Nines is in color this time. Sort of. It’s a mock neck sweater. Burgundy, like deep red wine- and he’s got it french tucked into his belt with slim fitting black pants that make his legs look impossibly long. In fact, they seem to stretch for days and Gavin, well, he can’t stop staring at them.

His sleeves are pushed halfway up his forearms as well, offering a glimpse of more skin underneath. 

Gavin feels the heat rise in his blood and flush across his cheeks. Itching to tug at his collar for some relief. 

He doesn’t. He stands and suffers. 

So much for nonchalant.

“Detective Reed, what a surprise,” says the PI. Gavin could say the same. Studying the other man like he was some kind of enigma. Curious about his whereabouts today, what was so important that he had to leave early- when he decided he was going to show up here in that color and why he seemed so much softer in the warm lights of the den. 

Connor leans in with his arms crossed muttering like the conversation’s meant to remain between the two of them, but never taking his eyes off the other detective.

“It’s no surprise. We can’t get rid of him,” he’s quick to say.

“Yes, I seem to be facing the same dilemma.”

Oh good, so they’ll be teaming up on him all night.

Gavin squints.

Bring it on.

He moves across the hardwood, having in mind to drop his beer off at the fridge. “Take it up with the ol’ man, Tin Can. He invited me this time.”

“Yes, and the invitation was approved by me. We wanted to have a game night and a fourth person was required.”

And he’s here by default. Great.

“Whatever.” He slips into the kitchen. Splitting the twins, as he’s dubbed them in his own mind. He takes a bottle in the process of putting the others away, bottom shelf where they’ll be coldest. He has to swap with Hank’s case, but the old man won’t notice until it’s too late anyway. He shuts the door and pops the tab, tossing it onto the counter.

Connor’s LED twitches.

“So, what’d you assholes have in mind then? Chutes and Ladders?” He snickers and teases. Connor remains unamused, that is until Hank enters. Like a warm blanket over the steely android. Snaking an arm around his waist, over the soft fabric of his cream colored cardigan.

It’s still a little odd to see them so domestic, and it might’ve been a little weird if it didn’t seem so natural. But Connor melts into a smile, gazing up at the older man with those big puppy eyes.

“Did you wanna go get that deck’a cards from the office?” Hank murmurs, then looks to Reed. “You play euchre, don’t you?”

Gavin shrugs.

He sure does.

“I’m familiar,” he says casually, taking a generous swig from his bottled lager. Connor turns in the lieutenant’s grasp and pats his chest.

“I’ll go get them,” he says sweetly, and slips out of the room. Hank sends Gavin a look, snaps and points towards the counter where the younger man had tossed his bottle cap, then he turns and follows the smaller android out of the kitchen. Reed scowls, not particularly wanting to think about the fact that Hank’s following Connor upstairs, that he’s been called out for leaving his trash on the counter or that he was now left alone with Nines.

Nines, who was leaned up against said counter with a good bit of space between them, leisurely with his ankles crossed and his hands in his pockets. Watching the shorter man as he disposed of the cap properly.

He’s the one who breaks the ice between them. Those opal eyes glimmering in the overhead lights. A modest chandelier over the dining table and the lumination bleeding in from the living room. A tiny quirk in his brow as if he were testing the waters.

“I’m not parked in your spot am I? I’ve been told you visit the Andersons quite frequently.”

Gavin licks his lips. They’re a little chapped and bitter from the residual beer lingering over his cupid’s bow. He challenges this. Pulling a Nines and cocking his head.

“Would you move if I said you were?”

A minor shrug, a tease. “If you asked nicely.”

Gavin laughs.

“What like, ‘please,’ and, ‘thank you?’” He says. Slumped back against the sink with his arms crossed. He must seem so small in comparison to the absolute giants running around this house. Even Connor’s got some height over him. Gavin’s always tried to compensate for his average height by building muscle, though he’s lost some mass in recovery and it doesn’t help matters much that he’s in his socked feet on the linoleum. Though one glance tells him that Nines left his shoes by the door as well. Makes sense, Connor’s such a stickler for tidiness around here. Still, it gives room for more realism to the imagination. His socks are black of course and his feet are proportionate to his stature, and delicately arched. 

Needless to say, whoever built him, they built him with such an eye for detail. One of the things that infuriated Gavin in the past about androids was how lifelike they had become after that first wave. It made it hard to pick them out amongst humans if they weren’t sporting the LED and they were all conveniently attractive, so he always found himself looking.

And it’s clear that Nines was the very last model to be designed. He’s stunning. Towering, tall and intimidating. Gavin’s realized the crush he’s slowly developed- it’s been smacking him in the face here lately- and Gavin hates himself for it, especially after all the flack this guy’s put him through.

So, it must be physical- it has to be. But then again, he’s always been such a sucker for pain. He can’t help it. Not when those baby blues are searing into him, mischief running afoot behind them in an expression that speaks for itself.

Gavin narrows his eyes, going for another swig.

“In your dreams.”  

He wants to ask about earlier while he’s got Nines to himself. He wants to poke and pry and try to catch a glimpse at what goes on behind the walls he so stubbornly puts up. But there’s movement from the other room. Sumo enters first, all excited, with a stuffed rabbit in his jowls that’s forever stained and matted all to hell. His eyes are shiny like he wants to play, he even nudges Nines in the leg with his muzzle as if to ask for a game of tug-a-war. 

The taller android shakes his head slow and chiding.

“No, Sumo. I’m told we don’t play tugs with the bunny.”

“Sumo, no tugs,” Connor coos upon entering. He’s got a deck of playing cards in his hands, bound together by a thick rubber band. Gavin comes up off the counter and Hank enters the kitchen a moment later.

“Alright, who’s got teams? Gav?”

The younger man perks up, then points between the two androids.

“Oh, no. They’re just gonna interface the entire time- we’ll never win.”

Connor straightens and scoffs- he was petting Sumo. “We would never.”

“We would, but we won’t this time,” Nines says, and at least he’s honest. “Not when there’s humans involved.”

Gavin doesn’t seem convinced, and his scowl proves that.

Nines seems to consider this. He straightens as well, hand to his chest. “You have my word, Detective.”

Anyone else would have flat out refused. Two humans in a card game against two supercomputers? What are the odds? 

But Gavin’s full of surprises and he’s got a knack for picking up on the subtle shit that one might drop in a game of cards. So, what better chance than this one to get to pick apart the elusive android standing before him?

And it’s already begun. Nines foolishly pulses his ears. Gavin’s got that shit on lock at this point. So, he takes the bait and looks to Hank- nevermind that he’s shooting Connor a look, like they’re having their own psychic conversation. Gavin’s not worried. 

He’s got this.

He shrugs. “Fine. Let’s play.”

Notes:

Gavin you simp

Anyway, this chapter was fun, so I hope you liked it :))

I’m foaming at the mouth for the next one, so stay tuned!

Chapter 5: Card Sharks

Notes:

There's a crash course on euchre in these first few paragraphs, to anyone who's actually played, just know that I personally have only played this game like seven times in my entire life- which is embarrassing because where I live, it's actually pretty popular. But, anyway, I've got that and google. So, if I butchered this, just pretended that I didn't xD

This chapter was a little more challenging, that's me being vulnerable- that being said, I'm very excited about it. Mostly because I got to play with Hank and Connor a little bit here

And a few other reasons :)

I hope you like it!

Gavin knows the drill by now, it briefly crosses his mind while everyone is seated at the table. Already leaned back in his chair, having retrieved a second beer- one for Hank as well. The older man will typically have two, open a third but he won’t finish it. Gavin’s likely to polish off his six pack, depending on how long he plans on being out- though he knows better than to overstay his welcome. 

Not that it’s ever stopped him before. Connor usually starts to get a little huffy when he’s had enough of him but, hey, Reed can take a hint.

And he wants to stay sharp tonight, so he may take a page out of Hank’s book and stick with lucky number three. Or four. Again, it depends- but he’ll be sure to space them out regardless. No need to get sloppy, he thinks as his eyes flicker across the table with a glimmer of curiosity. Nines is equally laid back. In a Nines sort of way. He’s still prim and posed, but he’s sat back in his seat with one leg over the other. Hands folded neatly. Which is odd considering he’s usually stiff as a board, but Gavin figures, as he follows that cerulean gaze, that perhaps Connor has something to do with it. As if his presence were enough to put the other android more at ease, to help him loosen up a bit. 

They were pretty close, after all. Even a blind man could see that. Gavin considers this as he watches their body language. Part of euchre is that you’re divided into pairs. Alternating seats so that you’re not sitting next to your partner. There are five rounds or, “tricks,” as they’re more often referred to. Winning the majority of tricks is how teams earn points. First team to ten wins the game, the other team is, “euchred.”  

Gavin likes to spend the first round causally observing. Part of this game being a team effort means that there is, “table talk,” to be considered. Silent gestures or code words that players can devise and use to win tricks. A verboten tactic that could cost you the game if you’re not careful. It’s why learning body language is so important. The subtle shit. Someone could signal to pick up or drop cards, to call a trump suit or simply sit out altogether.

This is where Gavin really excels. He’s been lacking at the police department as a detective for some time- an insecurity of his own on top of many others- but exercises like this really help to sharpen his naturally trained eye. 

As for playing the game itself, shit, he could do that in his sleep.

But he’s not trying to make that obvious. Not yet at least. He waits patiently as Hank deals. The older man now wears a pair of dark rimmed eyeglasses that Gavin’s never seen before, but figures he must be getting to that age and even decides that it’s not a bad look on the seasoned lieutenant.

He leans forward, going to take a casual sip from his beer. Unaware of how his eyes gleam in the overhead lights or that his fringe has fallen loosely over the curve of his brows, parted still to the side. But soft thanks to the shower beforehand and the lack of product to hold it back.

“So, how’s police work treatin’ you, Tin Can? They stick you on parking duty yet?” Teasing like this is walking the line, but he’s really trying to make an effort with Connor despite knowing where they stand. In his own selfish way of putting a band aid on top of their overlying issues. The android has thus far been very forgiving considering their history and Gavin’s repeated disregard for personal boundaries.

It’s not that he’s ignoring them out of malice, he’s always struggled with personal space. With latching on too quickly. He and Hank have a good thing going on and unfortunately, Connor has to suffer for that.

The smaller android makes a face that’s answer enough, sitting across from Hank. He pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. 

“This woman screamed at me for nearly thirty minutes the other day over a parking ticket, but her car had been sitting there for hours.”

“I remember those days.” Hank chuckles, flipping the top card. He nods, a knowing grin playing at his lips. “Tell ‘em what you did.”

Connor seems reluctant. He even sends the older man a sulky little frown. “I wrote her a citation for disturbing the peace,” he grumbles, sinking shamefully into his chair. Brown eyes staring holes into the wood grain of the tabletop, as if to express his own disappointment in himself.

Gavin snickers, spreading his cards into a fan. “Nice.”

“That’s being generous,” Nines adds, invested in his own hand as he skims the cards. “I would have had her detained.” 

Gavin shoots him a glance, searching for a glimpse of what his thought process might look like. The android remains stoic. Not even a flicker in his LED to showcase any scheming going on behind those eyes.

But, then again, that’s not what Gavin’s trained on. It’s not what he knows to look for.

“Captain Blaine was not very pleased,” Connor states, morosely shaking his head. Nines shifts at the mention of their captain- weird- and Connor then mutters to play the suit, meaning that their trump card has been declared: a nine of spades. Much to Gavin’s demise, this doesn’t jive well with his own hand and, given the look Hank pulls, it’s not good for him either. 

But that’s alright. Gavin’s here to play the long game.

“Yeah, apparently she was blowin’ up his fuckin’ phone all day after that. So, Connor here, got his first ear full from the captain,” Hank adoringly teases with a smile that crinkles his eyes despite Connor’s pretty pout. He lays a card out to follow the suit. Seemingly disheartened by the very mention of it.

“It was not a good day,” he mumbles.

Gavin has to discard. He does so with a grimace.

Nines, with his audacity, hums quietly in response to this action.

“Tragic.”

Gavin flashes him a look. Nines thinks he can’t be beat, well, Gavin’s here to prove him wrong.

So, he lets it slide. Reverting back to Connor. 

“Don’t sweat it, Tin Can. We’ve all had our fair share of ass chewings. Just look at Hank’s fuckin’ track record.”

“Look at your own fuckin’ track record,” the older man retaliates, all in good nature. 

“Yes, you do have quite the history of insubordination,” Nines states. 

Nevermind that this means Nines has looked into his history, a curious thought in and of itself. Gavin squints. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware.”

“He givin’ you any trouble?” Hank’s chiming in, peering over the rim of his specs at Nines. Gavin doesn’t like the looks of it. He scowls. 

“Hey-”

The PI passes the older man a tiny gesture as if to brush this off. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Lieutenant,” he says, so complacent. He and Hank seem to bond over this. 

“Usually I just tell him to sit down and shut the fuck up.”

Connor agrees. “Yes, you have to take a very direct approach with Detective Reed. He does not listen to subtext.” 

Gavin drums his fingers on the table impatiently. It seems to be a unanimous decision that he is to be subject to this kind of torture for the forseeable future, but he half expected this to happen anyway.

And that’s fine. He’ll be the one laughing soon enough.

“Are you gonna lay down a card or what?”

Nines turns his head, flashing those eyes again. Like brandishing a knife. This time they are shimmering with added zeal. 

He places a high suited card down on the table without hesitation. Like a subtle brag. Then he looks to Connor. 

“I believe that’s our trick,” he says. Connor grins, and because Nines won this round, it means he gets to lead the next. He and Connor end up winning all five tricks, earning them two points. 

It’s no big deal; the humans have plenty of time to catch up. Something Gavin considers as he nurses his beer. Strategizing how he’s going to play this moving forward while Connor deals this time. Doing so effortlessly with Hank watching fondly. Their feet entangled beneath the table and Sumo resting beside the older man’s chair. Nines is equally relaxed, watching the cards glide across the surface top as they’re dealt. Two at a time and then three.

Gavin sets the bottle back down and gathers his cards. Sucking bitter residue of a warm beer from his pronounced upper lip. Something he hardly pays any mind to as he studies the hand he was dealt. Being left to the dealer, he’s up first to determine whether or not they keep the top card that Connor graciously flips- a king of diamonds.

He bounces a knee. This suits Gavin’s hand just fine. He decides to play it, and he’s going to have to leave the old man behind this time.

“I’m goin’ alone,” he says. A bold move. Hank scoffs.

“Probably for the best,” he then mutters. He’s been having shit luck so far, then again, he’s only ever played this game when he was already black out drunk in a bar somewhere. So, he sits back in his chair, arms crossed. Connor sends him another pout, poking fun.

“Shut up,” Hank says.

Connor smiles.

They’re being mushy again.

Gross.

Meanwhile, Nines looks almost intrigued. Studying the other detective from across the way. Going alone is often a red flag for the opposing team, as it indicates high cards.

And Gavin’s practically got the full suit in his hand, all that’s missing is the ace and it must be played in this first trick. So, he’s about to see who’s got it. Given the reluctance and the searing eye contact, he’d bet money on it being elusive RK900 himself.

And he’d be correct. The android lays down the ace with a sigh of defeat. Gavin waits for Connor, who seems disinclined to play his own hand but, alas, plays his turn: a queen of hearts.

Cute.

Gavin spreads into a wolfish grin, gloating as he places his entire hand out on the table. Completing the suit and, because Nines placed the ace, he wins only four of the five tricks. Still, that’s their two points. Gavin will take that like it’s money.

The older man commemorates this with a nod of appreciation.

“Fuckin’ A.”

“Lucky hand,” Connor says. Nines folds and taps his cards on the table. Like neither one of them can believe that Gavin’s actually good at something. 

“Very lucky indeed,” he concurs, albeit suspiciously. The younger detective merely shrugs. Luck of the draw is the name of the game. He gathers the rest of the deck and slides it to Nines. The android is still glowering. Gavin sends him another impish little smirk, curious to discover more buttons to push as he slowly unravels the thread spindled tightly around the surly PI.

“It’s your deal,” he challenges. A mischievous glint in his eye. It’ll take more than this to warrant anything responsive out of the taller android, Gavin knows this, but he can’t help the stirrings of excitement that begins to blossom in his chest as he watches the cogs turn behind that steely gaze. As if Nines were just now beginning to realize that Gavin Reed was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

He takes those cards and handles them firmly. Of course, anything he does is flawless and seemingly with ease. He splits the deck in two and interleaves them without taking his eyes off of Gavin. The other detective merely watches, squinting still with that half hanging smirk.

Nevermind the fact that the Andersons share another look, similar to the one they shared earlier. Like they’ve got some secret thing going on between them. Gavin’s not even going to worry about that right now. He’s enjoying this too much. With full intentions of calling Nines out on his bullshit this time, knowing he and Connor have been communicating with each other all along. 

Really, that’s on him. He knew letting them team up together would result in such a thing, but he really wanted to watch it play out. To see the face Nines pulls when Gavin hits him with it.

But he wants to be sure- he has to be- or all this build up would have been for nothing and he’ll look like a complete idiot in front of three people who already underestimate him. Now, Nines- Nines is easy- Gavin’s already clocked his tick, but he doesn’t want to make the mistake of calling this table talk if Nines is simply just pondering his next move or otherwise. However, Connor’s a little more tricky. He has twitches and quirks that he does naturally already, so Gavin’s more curious to see how he counteracts. It takes only a single moment of hesitation, like he’s second guessing his decision to honor the suit.

But he picks it up.

And Nines

Fucking

Ticks.

Busted. 

Gavin folds his cards. Slamming them down on the table. Poor Sumo is disrupted from his slumber.

“Scoop. You two are interfacing.”

Both androids are caught like deer in the headlights. Even Hank looks surprised. Connor, with a hand over his chest, mocks defense. 

“We most certainly are not.”

“Where would you get such an idea, Detective?” 

He pauses. “Uh, it’s obvious?”

Nines still seems a little arrogant, chiding Connor like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for their downfall. Something Gavin was really hoping for, because now he gets to burst his bubble.

“Eights, we’ve talked about this. You really need to work on your poker fa-”

“It’s not Connor.”

In response, Nines flickers yellow and shoots him a glare. 

Connor looks giddy and smug. “I have an excellent poker face.”

Nines sits back, nearly flustered. Staring daggers.

Someone’s a sore loser.

“Well done, Detective Reed. Now just imagine if you applied these sleuthing skills to your job.”

Hank snorts, but he looks somewhat impressed. “I tell him all the time. All that wasted potential.” He sighs, shaking his head. Nines is still simmering.

Low blows. Gavin takes both of them with a cocky little smirk.

“Chin up, champ. I’ve been playing this game since I was twelve.”

Longer. But he’s been playing for keeps since the boys homes and juvenile centers he’s lived in. Earning extra meal credits for juice or pop at lunch over milk and a second helping of dessert. Later they played for cigarettes and vape cartridges. 

Memories. 

“I think I’d like to be on Reed’s team in the next game,” Connor says. Hank throws his hands up. 

“What the fuck, Connor?”

 

---

 

The game eventually ends with Gavin triumphantly pulling him and Hank out of the trenches. Bruising the esteemed egos of both androids as they grumble in defeat. It’s a good opportunity to rotate partners. Of course, Connor and Gavin make an unlikely duo that fucking dominate. Which is refreshing because Gavin would like to think it counts as bonding. Nines puts up a hell of a fight too, like he’s got a personal vendetta. Unfortunately, he can’t read Hank like he can read Connor and Gavin seems to be throwing him for a continuous loop.

Despite this, he doesn’t seem displeased. He seems challenged. Intrigued.

They’re clearing the table after a final round. Nines is laid back in his chair. Hands in his pockets, long legs outstretched under the table. Calculating behind a pleasant stare, like he still can’t figure out how Gavin managed to catch him earlier. 

“I’ll admit, that was.. Unexpected.” He tilts his head. “You’re quite the card shark.”

Wow. A compliment? 

From Mr. Superior?  

“What can I say? I’m a jack of many trades.”

Hank scoffs in passing, but Nines simply muses. 

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. We’ll get him next time.”

“Damn straight,” the older man grumbles. He’s leaving the kitchen, likely headed to the den. Gavin wants to follow. Wants to let Nines wallow in the air of his victory while he still has it, so he moves. In the process, his foot brushes something stiff and familiar. Gavin pauses, flushing bright red as his brain makes the connection, as Nines startles- startles- at the sudden contact made under the table, like Nines hasn’t already shoved him up against a wall in a rundown building to shield him from falling debris.

“Shit, sorry-” Gavin stumbles out of his chair, swearing under his breath. Nines draws his legs back in, sitting upright. His temple cycles yellow before it flutters back to blue.

And now they’re just staring at each other, both a little wide eyed. Gavin can feel his cheeks growing hotter. Wanting to take his chair and smash it on the tiles. Reeling. Standing in- fuck- he’s over here dressed like a bum, and he hasn’t shaved, and Nines is all put together like he’s fresh out the box. Too soft to be that vaguely threatening android who stared him down over the parking fiasco only days ago- days ago- and too pretty in that color red to be staring at Gavin like-

Connor pokes his head in, he’s grinning. Looking at Nines.

“I have new fish,” he beams. The other android composes himself without missing a beat and stands. 

“I’d love to see them,” he sighs. He breathes. As if he’s relieved. Gavin’s gaze has lifted to follow, stuck on this towering beauty like a sight to behold.

He practically skitters. Searching for Hank as he retreats to the living room just the same. It’s spacious, with a large sectional in front of a stone mantle fireplace. Framed by studious built in bookshelves. The older man’s got them lined with actual paperback literature and decorative picture frames. Mostly of him and Connor, a few featuring Sumo in a bandana- some of Cole. Gavin stops at the back of the couch as he studies them. Movement from behind as the androids branch off and convene around the ever expanding fish tank.

Seeing the still captured moments makes Gavin feel a little out of place. Growing up, the only photos that he ever saw hanging on the walls were long outdated and hidden behind blurry, broken frames. Encapsulating smiles from what seems like a past life now. A timeline he can’t recall because he was still in diapers when everything fell apart. Now the concept of family is just a vague idea to him, something he only sees from someone else’s point of view. 

Nothing like a subtle reminder to bring him back down as his world threatens to shrink again. Gavin swallows, feeling a rain cloud looming over his shoulder. Mentally he fans it away.

The television hangs above the mantle, Hank turns from where he stands between the couch and varnished coffee table. Remote in hand.

“Did you wanna stay and catch the game? Gears got the Pacers tonight.”

It sounds enticing, but Gavin’s never been big into basketball.

Shaking his head, he moseys to the door.

“Nah, I should get goin’,” he mutters.

Hank snorts. “Damn. Outta here before midnight. You feelin’ alright?”

Gavin narrows his eyes.

“Very funny.”

Behind him, Nines straightens, directed more so to Connor.

“I should be going too,” he says. “But this was nice. I appreciate you having me.” 

They have a little handshake apparently. A motion that involves two bumps and a twist as if they were reaching to interlock their forearms. Gavin tugs his shoes back on, trying his damndest to ignore the pang of fondness that comes with watching Nines become more of personality rather than some impenetrable force. 

“- Getting home.”

Gavin turns.

“Huh?”

Hank is staring at him. The man’s like granite. Unreadable. But he’s by the door, ready to show the younger man out.

“I said: be careful getting home,” he repeats. Softly. Like he cares. Gavin blows him off.

“Whatever. ‘Night, Connor!”

Connor passes him a tight lipped smile, one that seems forced and incumbent as he crosses his arms. 

Yep. That’s about two steps from huffy. He's out. 

Behind him, Nines shrugs into a lightweight jacket, offering his goodbyes as he shakes the lieutenant’s hand with a friendly nod and another parting expression of gratitude. One that Gavin hardly catches as he all but glides off the porch and into the night. Breath hanging on a cloud in the cold and frigid air. He’s parked just down the sidewalk. Off center from the front of the house. 

He stops just halfway to his car. Trepidation racing in his blood, heart pounding in his chest.

He never gets like this.

Nines is already at his bike, beneath the spotlight of that earlier streetlamp, unclipping his helmet. A tall, delicate silhouette. Somehow softer in this light than he had been in the glow of the kitchen. Gavin’s feet move before he can stop them, maintaining a solid distance as he stops. A wide berth between them. Words hanging on the tip of his tongue, butterflies in his gut.

What he’s about to say is a gamble. But he can’t hold it back any longer. He wants the reveal. Wants Nines to be taken aback once more by his sleight of hand.

“It’s your ears.”

The android turns his head. Those eyes, they’re locked in. Awaiting further digression behind a blank expression.

Gavin’s voice is quiet. Playful, like the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He can’t help it.

“You wiggle them sometimes.”

Nines cocks his head. A very genuine look of interest etched into his perfectly hand crafted features. Then a sly shimmer behind that captivating stare.

“I never noticed,” he says. The air is charged, Gavin commits to the smirk.

“I did.”

And he could turn to mush, because Nines smiles too. Wider than he had back at the precinct, more radiant than that little flash he’d sent Connor from across the table earlier. 

Dimples on display.

“How keen.” 

Gavin shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s just another day and this is just another conversation.

“When I wanna be.”

And there it is again. That word that’s been running circles around them.

“Interesting.”

It’s enough to make him fold. Heat rises, Gavin stuffs his hands in his pockets and spins on a heel. The concrete crunches beneath the sole of his shoe. In the midst of doing so, he catches the glow of the bay window that overlooks the front porch. A quickly drawn curtain makes Gavin stop and pause. 

Those bastards. 

They’re watching. 

Gavin shakes his head and continues to his car. Knees weak, fighting back tremors.

If he wrecks tonight it’ll be because his head is spinning, because he’s free falling into the abyss. A feeling that follows him all the way home, up the stairs to his lonely apartment. Down the hall into the enticing depths of his bedroom. The sound of a tiny bell follows him but Gavin hardly notices. He’s still thrumming, kicking his shoes off by the bed. Shedding his jeans. Left in his hoodie and his boxer briefs. He collapses on the mattress. Silence blaring along with the pulse in his ears.

Edith hops up on the bed. Making her way to her favorite pillow.

He should let it go. Let it lie. But he’s a glutton for punishment. For chasing things he shouldn’t. 

Bullets, oblivion.

A standoffish and socially off putting machine built like a daydream too, apparently. 

Gavin slips his phone out of his sweatshirt pocket. The screen lights up. His teeth dig deep into his bottom lip.

Tonight’s been nothing but chances, and he’s still riding the high of feeling lucky.

// you know if you liked that song the other day you might like this one too //

Gavin copies a link from his Spotify playlist and hits paste. Tapping the send button before he can second guess it. 

But it lacks context, so he quickly back peddles. 

// the song in the car i mean //

He drops the device on his chest where it thumps. Enveloped in darkness as he stares up at the ceiling. 

Stupid. So stupid. It’s not like Nines will actually-

His phone vibrates.

Be cool.

He scrambles for it, skimming the text he’s just received.

:: I’ve already explored this group’s entire discography, but your assumption would be correct. I am quite fond of this particular track ::

Gavin smiles, and low and behold, another message appears in a separate bubble right below it, followed by another Spotify link.

:: I enjoy this one as well ::

It’s another song that he’s very familiar with, one that he keeps in a bangers playlist. 

// yeah. i like that one too //

He shouldn’t be typing so fast or responding so quickly. Part of his excitement stems from the fact that Nines is being so unexpectedly receptive, and knowing that he’s been exploring the music that Gavin’s unintentionally exposed him to is endearing in a way. As if he’s left some kind of impression on the unsuspecting android.

Gavin turns, curling in on his side. The bed shifts behind him and his kitty follows. Purring up a storm.

Turns out her favorite pillow is his head.

“Quit it,” he mutters, gently pushing her away. Edith is having none of it. She nudges her way under an arm, nuzzling into his chest. Gavin’s still lit up by his phone screen. Typing another message that he intends to send with a cheeky entendre. 

// you still sore about the card game ?? //

// since i totally beat you //

A pause. The downside to texting an android is that there is no ellipses bubble to indicate that they are typing. Gavin must sit with anticipation for any kind of indication that Nines is going to respond.

:: On the contrary, I never expected you to be so intuitive ::

He scoffs.

// im literally a detective //

:: Apparently ::

Now he’s just teasing. Gavin rolls his eyes.

// guess im gonna crash  //

:: Very well, Detective. I’ll be at your desk bright and early Monday morning ::

He smiles. Thumbing away at his touchscreen keyboard.

// k but you better not park in my spot again. ill srsly kick your ass this time //

A beat. An excruciating pause. Then his entire world is flipped on its axis.

:: I’d like to see you try ;) ::

Gavin could throw his phone through a fucking wall. 

A wink? A wink!?

He buries his face in the pillow after he types a final response. Edith is displeased, for she is nearly smushed. Gavin soothes her with a mindlessly stroke, feeling like a puddle in the sheets.

He never gets like this.

His final text is vague and quick to the point, because otherwise he’s going to say something stupid or incriminating and he’s not quite ready to face this infatuation head on just yet. He’s still coming to terms with it. Stuck somewhere between denial and acceptance. Terrified of the inevitable rejection that’s sure to come with it or at the very least the insufferable pining he’s sure to face before he can force himself to get over it.

// night //

His phone buzzes one final time. Short and sweet.

:: Good night, Gavin ::

 

---

 

Across town, in a small studio apartment, Nines is lounging in an armchair he has placed by a set of wide, floor length windows overlooking the city. He is otherwise surrounded by near vacant space. His home is furnished very modestly. He doesn’t require much, so he doesn’t have much. Leather chair, end table with a lamp. A twin bed dressed in charcoal sheets and a desk for formality. He gazes out that same window, Gavin Reed’s apartment is miles away in that very direction.

He should be working the case, he should be scouring the files in his software for any semblance of a lead.

But he’s not. He doesn’t. He’s fondly retracing that prominent scar he’s meticulously memorized and counting the shades of grey in that tortured gaze he’s become so enamored with. 

Thinking, maybe, there’s something to this Gavin Reed.

Something more than meets the eye.

Notes:

HnnnnnnNNNNNNNNN

My babies.

The jump from Gavin being like "fuck this android, I hate him." to "fuck this android, he's pretty and touching him makes me wanna break shit," was drastic, but like, I'm kind of into it.

Chapter 6: Lead

Notes:

Thank you so much for all the love so far!! It's been very much appreciated <3

This one's a little longer. Our boys are back to business.

Enjoy :)

Monday morning comes with a chill in the air; one Gavin can’t shake as he enters the precinct. Already two coffees in and still tired.

Sleep has been a joke here lately. Gavin’s been in a constant state of downward spiral since Saturday night, one he’s not likely to see the end anytime soon.

Really, it’s pathetic. He shaved his perpetual five o’ clock shadow and fussed over what color shirt he was going to wear today like a teenage girl trying to impress a boy- boys don’t pay attention to color. Something he kept telling himself over and over as he went back and forth between his trusted and very cozy deep green sweater or a more daring blue crewneck that fits him all nice and snug. Both muted as he tries to steer away from anything particularly loud but equally flattering.

Of course he went with the green. It’s safe and he knows that any statement he’s trying to make will fall on deaf ears anyway so he may as well be comfortable. Besides, it goes well with his jacket, and he didn’t want to have to struggle with what outer wear he was going to have to mix and match with instead.

Despite all of this, he still somehow manages to make it to the precinct before Nines. A victory he’ll be sure to brag about later. Though it is a little odd, Nines is very punctual. So, his tardiness nearly calls for concern.

He stops at his desk, signing into the terminal.

That’s when Officer Chen walks by, in her full police get-up. 

“What the hell, Reed? You look like you actually gave a shit today.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you and Lewis have morning patrol?” 

“We’re rollin’ out in five, so I’ve got time to stop by and chat with my favorite dumbass,” she says endearingly. 

He flashes her a look this time, all in good nature. Tina’s crass and from similar stock. The difference is, she was adopted out of foster care, and he aged out. Still, they understood each other on a different level than most. Something that became apparent when she first started on as an officer.

“So, what’s all this about then?” She gestures to all of him, then takes a seat. The one reserved for plaintiffs when they come to give a statement. Stroking her chin curiously. “You seein’ that guy again or- Oh! Is it that nurse you hooked up with last time?”

Gavin pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his list of go-to’s in regards to hook ups. Like the recurring gym rat who gives good head or the cutie he met when he was in the hospital. 

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you,” he groans.

“‘Cuz it’s sad and depressing?”

He drops his hand, clearly unamused. “Because it’s private.”

From the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar stature. Tall, lithe, dressed in all black.

Gavin’s starting to wonder if that’s a work thing.

His eyes dart quickly, but don’t go unnoticed. Tina follows his gaze. Nines seems to have been stopped by their captain. He doesn't seem very pleased about it, from this distance, Gavin can see the contortions of a shirty expression. Like he’s been rudely interrupted. Hands clasped behind his back, compliant little nods.Gavin must be staring a certain type of way, because Tina knowingly spreads into a presumptuous little grin. 

“Oh, I see. Detective Long Legs, huh?”

Gavin rolls his chair away, like a coward. Focusing on his monitor.

“Gav, he is way out of your league.”

As if he didn’t already know that. As if he thought he actually had a chance.

“Stop talking,” he warns.

Nines seems to have been dismissed as he and Captain Fowler part ways. Tina’s all giddy about it, flashing Gavin an evil glint.

“I’m gonna say hi to him.”

He looks at her desperately, heat creeping along his neck and blooming across his cheeks.

“Tina, I swear to fuckin’ god-”

“Good morning, Detective Reed.”

He opens his mouth to speak. Tina beats him to the punch.

“A very good morning indeed,” she beams, still leaned forward on the desk. Her chin in her palm as she stares up at the unsuspecting android. Nines gives her a look of intrigue, with that damnable head tilt that he does. Gavin could kick her under the table. He wants to.

He sends her a look that could kill instead. It’s not very often that he can pull any kind of dominion over the lower officers, but he does have a little jurisdiction.

“Officer Chen, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He says, eyes sharp and imitating a voice of authority. The younger woman fiendishly squints, like he just blew out her birthday candles or something.

“You’re no fun,” she stands, speaking to Nines in passing. “Be warned, he’s cranky this morning.”

Nines hums in response to this. Staring at Gavin. “Typical.”

The detective agent, while ignoring the flush across his skin, clears his throat. Leaning back in his chair trying to keep things loose and casual.

An impossible feat when Nines appears more radiant this morning. In another turtleneck and subtle grey windowpane patterned stripes decorating his form fitting pants. 

“Ya know, it’s not very bright and early of you to waltz in here after eight,” he teases. 

“I apologize, Detective. There was a disturbance last night. I was going over police statements in district nine,” the PI explains, something that strikes the smaller man. He sits up suddenly.

“You’re investigating without me?”  

It’s clear by the way Nines tries to back pedal that he hadn’t meant to overstep any bounds. He even allows for the flicker of his LED instead of his usual tick that often masks it. Gavin almost regrets telling him about it, because he’d become rather fond of that little quirk.

“I thought it’d be more efficient this way. I can give you a briefing on the way to our scene.”

Gavin breathes. 

“In the future,” he rises. “I’d like to be involved in every aspect of this case. ‘Kay?”

The android nods. “Of course.”

Defused, Gavin relaxes. He spikes his empty coffee cup in the trash bin and rounds the desk, eager to get a move on as he follows Nines out of the bullpen. The android seems equally as enthusiastic as they exit the building. Both bounding down the steps.

Gavin hits the concrete, already pulling his keys out of his pocket. They jingle in his hand. “So, where we headed?”

“Hamtramck.”

Face crack. Gavin tries to ignore the way his stomach drops. Tries to focus on what Nines is saying as they walk, the sun beaming down and the air like knives against his cheeks as they approach his sitting vehicle. Parked in its proper spot today. 

“A resident reported suspicious activity. The suspect matched our description.”

Gavin swallows. “Cool.”

Nines stops at the passenger door, peering over the hood of the car. 

“I understand you’re familiar with the area?”

He’s only spent his formative years in that neighborhood. A time that seemed so long ago, memories Gavin chooses not to revisit. Some would say he’s even repressed the majority of them given the residual hurt that often follows when dwelling on the past. 

“I mean, sure,” he says with a small shrug, already dreading this excursion as it threatens to reopen those old wounds. 

Really though, enough time has passed, and his line of work keeps him in familiar spaces such as where he grew up given the heavy crime rate. Hamtramck isn’t necessarily Detroit jurisdiction, but this is a special case, and he’s attached to it thanks to Nines- and he’ll be damned if he drops it over something as silly as his own personal childhood trauma.

The PI flashes him a tiny smirk. Seemingly pleased with this information- information Gavin’s not sure he’s ever shared and vaguely wonders how Nines would know any of that to begin with.

He rolls his eyes.

Nosey bastard.

 

---

 

Nevermind the fact that where they wind up is easily a stone’s throw from Gavin’s old block. That house is no doubt still standing on its last limbs after all these years. He has no desire to see it, but being this close to it puts him in a bad mood.

Or maybe it’s the caffeine crash, he really should have gotten a coffee to go, he thinks in hindsight. Staring up at their alleged residence as he steps out of the car. Gravel crunching beneath his boot, a gentle breeze persuading his brunette hair. They’d received reports of a shady figure looming around the neighborhood lately, eyewitness accounts claim to have seen it in and around this particular lot. 

The seasoned detective reels it back in his own head, the description of their prime suspect pertaining to the murders they were still investigating. An LM100 android model named Malcolm. It was reported that he was without his LED and last seen wearing a long jacket and dark pants.

Pretty vague, of course he’d been on the run last time anyone had seen him. The lack of LED is what led police to believe he was human in the first place, Nines is the one who discovered the evaporated blue blood, thus changing the course of their investigation.

It wasn’t ideal for the android community, things were still shaky in terms of politics, so having one of them on the loose for a triple homicide was not a good look for public opinion. This of course has acted as a catalyst for a spike in human on android hostility. Further deadlocking the two communities in a vicious back and forth cycle of banding together and tearing each other apart. 

It made Gavin’s job more difficult because he had to find middle ground, he had to look at things from both angles. Yes, Malcolm has brutally murdered three humans, but evidence points to this being on account of a justice system that failed him. So, it’s likely he’s more afraid of what will come of his actions rather than a blood thirsty monster. Something Gavin can sympathize with a little bit. He’s met blood thirsty monsters. Looked them dead in the eye from an arms length away and felt their wrath all the same.

Most of which were human. A thought that doesn’t sit well. Still, Gavin’s not taking any chances. He ducks back into the vehicle and reaches for the center console; he’s got a spare pistol that he snags quickly. A modest Taurus 380 that’s small enough to fit in his coat pocket. He prefers to keep it tucked between his waistline and the leather strap of his belt behind his back instead, which is what he does as he straightens once more. Nines is watching him with furrowed brows.

Gavin’s not going to explain to him that having a back up piece brings him comfort considering his issued carry had gotten stuck in his holster the day he was shot. He’s not even going to acknowledge it.

And fuck him if he says anything.

He doesn’t. Nines seems content to let this slide. Despite how he studies him as they approach the residence. It’s in better shape than the first house they investigated but still in disarray. With boarded up windows and a splintering, weathered porch. Gavin’s ahead of Nines as he steps up to the door. The android seems to attest this as the other man’s gearing up to knock.

“Allow me,” Nines says, hardly giving the detective agent a chance to respond as he cuts in front of him. Gavin’s got a glowering look as he glares up at the taller PI, practically stumbling back. He crosses his arms with a strong worded protest on the tip of his tongue. One that he holds back out of reluctance. Nines, however, has the police wrap down as he gives the door three heavy knocks. Nothing more than common courtesy. They don’t exactly have a warrant or probable cause just yet to bust the door down themselves, so they must follow protocol.

They stand and wait, met with silence on the other side. Gavin huffs, shoving his way forward.

“Detective-”

“I got this.”

He knocks, using the side of his fist rather than his knuckles. Heavy with command. “Detroit Police, open up!”

Nothing like a little force to rattle whatever’s inside, Gavin thinks, listening closely with an ear up by the door. Meanwhile, Nines stands back almost impatiently. Sporting a look of displeasure. 

That’s when it happens. A shuffle on the other side. A muffled thunk. Gavin steps back surprised, Nines perks up too. Having heard the commotion. 

They each share a look. Gavin jiggles the doorknob. 

Locked. 

Once more, Nines is pulling him back. A gentle tug but a firm grip on his arm. 

“Stand back,” he instructs, preparing to kick the door down himself as Gavin takes backwards steps until he hits the banister, something from his peripherals catching his trained eye. His head snaps, he turns and leans over the rail.

From the side of the house, a figure- long coat and a sock hat- is struggling to climb out of an open window.

“Hey!”

Gavin knows better than to attract such attention, but it’s like bells are ringing in his ears. Adrenaline spiking in his blood just the same. The figure stops dead, damn near falls and somehow lands on shaky feet. Gavin can only catch a glimpse of a side profile, enough of it to see a deeper complexion and a bony facial structure that resembles the very face that Nines had previously revealed to him back at the precinct only days ago.

So, he doesn’t wait, and he doesn’t listen as Nines calls after him. He hops the rail and hits the ground running. Sprinting forward without a second thought. 

Nines, on the other hand, just stares blankly where Gavin once stood. Then drags a hand down his face and sighs. 

Eights once told him to try counting backwards from ten when he finds himself becoming frustrated. 

Unfortunately, he just doesn’t have that kind of time right now. 

Biting back a swear- because he really hates resorting to such vulgar language- Nines makes the same running jump as Gavin had, smoother and landing flawlessly. Taking off in a dead sprint. He rounds the house and books it down the alley, both Detective Reed and their alleged suspect are tiny figures already leaps and bounds ahead of him and, annoyingly, Nines can’t get a decent scan on the assailant, so he can’t confirm whether or not this is even the android they’re supposed to be looking for. All he can do is run harder to try and catch up, of course, he’s built for this kind of thing. He navigates that cluttered alleyway with the agility of a gazelle. Feet featherlight on the concrete as he follows, already gaining on them. 

All the while Gavin high tails it in a chase of determination. Heart hammering and the wind rushing in his ears. As far as stamina goes, he’s on borrowed time. A disadvantage when chasing androids seeing as they don’t tire or become winded like humans do.

A fact that Gavin throws on the back burner. He’s not as active as he used to be, but he can still pump out a few miles before he’s spent. So, he runs. Beating against broken asphalt as he accelerates. Past the litter scattered across the alley, through the open chain link fence at the end of it. He doesn’t even bother to throw a risky glance back to see if Nines is following them, he simply zeros in. Taking the same sharp right turn as their suspect to further follow him down another street. Not letting up in the slightest. Even as the frigid air stings in his eyes and a sharp, throbbing pain begins to spread in his abdomen. Gavin simply pushes through with a bullheaded persistence. Knowing if he lets up now, he’ll lose steam completely. 

And that cannot happen.

His legs are burning by the fifth block, but he’s closer. The distance between him and their suspect is slowly dwindling as he pushes himself well past his own limits. Thinking maybe he should’ve stretched this morning or that he should start running again in his free time as his muscles tighten beneath his skin. The two of them coming up on a crosswalk, one that flashes red just as they happen upon it. Horns blaring as they zip on by, bobbing and weaving through a sparse crowd of lingering pedestrians. The sounds nearly drowned out by Gavin’s own blood pulsing in his ears. Growing more and more irate the longer he has to chase this motherfucker. 

With a growl, he pumps even harder. Edging closer and closer- close enough to reach.

Fuck that. Gavin throws himself forward, successfully tackling the android to the ground as he wraps both arms around his waist on the takedown. Six fucking blocks later and he’s got him. Gavin pants, unprepared for the retaliation to follow seeing as he’s struggling to catch his breath and this android isn’t affected by the pursuit in the slightest. 

He damn near takes an elbow to the face, only dodging it at the last second. Throwing himself back over the android in a quick attempt to get him pinned. Face down.

“Hold still, asshole!” He’s reaching for his handcuffs when he’s all but yanked back by the jacket collar. A surprise seeing as the action comes out of nowhere. Gavin swears, landing on his ass against the cold, hard pavement. Damn near skidding as Nines looms over the other android, presumably scanning every inch of him in an effort to confirm whether or not this is indeed their prime suspect.

But by the way his temple flutters red and how he hauls the other android up, it is evident that he is very disappointed. Gavin collapses on the sidewalk with a breath of defeat. 

Even he can see it now. 

This is not Malcolm.

The nameless face- an AC700- has his hands up and trembling.

“Please don’t hurt me-”

Nines releases him gracelessly. 

Stupid. Stupid human.

He had tried on several attempts to get Gavin’s attention during the pursuit. He’s surprisingly fast, all things considering.

And even more so, he’s impulsive. Impetuous.

“You’ll have to forgive my partner,” Nines shoots Gavin a hard glare. Speaking through gritted teeth as he desperately tries to hold himself back from taking the smaller man and shaking him senseless. “He’s an imbecile.”

Gavin’s on his back, splayed out and wet with perspiration. Panting hard.

“He fuckin’ ran-”

“You were chasing me!”

Nines leers over him like a thunder cloud. Lightning flashes behind his incandescent eyes. “This isn’t even the correct model,” he snaps. 

Gavin claps back, equally incensed as he lifts his head despite how it spins. His ego is bruised. His body hurts.

He just ran- no, sprinted- six blocks for no fucking reason.

And Nines clearly hates him again, so that’s a cherry on top of a fuckin’ shit sundae.

“Not my fault you fuckers all look the same,” he sharply quips in a muttered breath. 

The AC700 decides to chime in again. Glowering now with a newfound attitude apparently.

Much to Gavin’s demise.

“Hey, that’s offensive.”

“Oh, fuck your PC bullshit-”

“Detective Reed.”

Yep. He’s pissed. Nines turns to his fellow android and waves him off dismissively. In turn, the guy stalks off down the block. Bypassing curious bystanders who also seem to be dispersing amidst the lack of commotion. The RK900 spins around to face him once more. His looming form is never ending from this angle and his scowl is evermore prominent.

“Congratulations. You’ve just wasted more of our time chasing the wrong android.”

The smaller man props himself up on his elbows. His shirt riding up over his torso, exposing his skin to the cold. A thin silver scar on display above his protruding hip bone. 

Nines only glances at it for a second. Finding the answer to his previous inquiry: does Gavin have more scars?

Apparently yes.

“He matched our fuckin’ description-”

The PI is having none of this.

“If you would have just stayed back like I told you to-”

“I am not just gonna let you steer this fucking investigation!” Gavin argues. He’s so sick of having this conversation. Over and over. 

Nines snaps. He’s furious. “Then stop jeopardizing it.” He then huffs, even flaring his nostrils as he begrudgingly steps forward and bends to offer the other detective a helping hand. Gavin takes it with narrowed eyes, allowing the taller man to effortlessly bring him to his feet. Even as he continues, their hands still clasped. 

“All you had to do was wait,” Nines shoves him. Gavin’s lizard brain says: strong. Even as he stumbles. “It would have taken me less than half a second to scan him and confirm that he was not the android we are looking for and save us the trouble of an unnecessary pursuit.”

Gavin scoffs. Brushing himself off. Adrenaline slowly ebbing from his body and his pulse mellowing out. 

“Motherfucker tried to make a run for it.” He rebuttals, a futile attempt. One that seems to spark even more fury in his unlikely counterpart.

The android towers over him, hovering dangerously. “This may come as a shock to you, Detective, but humans aren’t exactly very kind to androids. You may want to consider that next time you decide to rush one without warning.”

Gavin’s quiet for a moment. Eyes locked bitterly as he tries to come up with another retort to somehow spin this whole endeavor back on Nines or to even defend his position, but he comes up short. He knows he should have waited, that he was being reckless. It’s no excuse. 

But he’ll be damned if he admits that out loud. 

“Whatever. Fuck you,” he growls. Stepping away to hold his gut. His side is fucking killing him, Gavin can feel it creeping along as the pain spreads. Making him grimace.

He hates it. He really hates it. That he is more limited in what he can do now physically, that his phantom wound still wields this much power over him. Like a constant reminder of what happened that day and why.

Deep breaths. Gavin breathes in and exhales slow and shaky. One hand braced on a knee as he bends, trying to null the pain.

“Is your captain aware that you still experience-?”

“Nines, shut the fuck up.” Gavin closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to snap- he doesn’t mean to- and of course Fowler doesn’t know. The man has an easy enough time writing him off as it is without adding more fuel to the fire.

And Nines must take pity on him, because the ire seems to have left him as he approaches the curb where Gavin’s all but doubled over. His touch is strangely soft. Oddly considerate. With one hand on his back, the other guiding him away from the street to a vacant bus stop.

“Sit,” he says in a simple command. Gavin plops down, shielded from the wind thanks to the open glass enclosure surrounding the bench, though he’s discontent to do so.

He groans. “It’ll pass, man. It always-”

“Quiet.”

Reed looks up sharply, Nines flutters yellow. Seemingly caught off guard. He clears his throat and tries again.

“You should just.. Focus on your breathing. It’ll help.”

Gavin’s not going to look too far into that. Nines has opened up in the past about his struggles with expression and understanding human emotion- briefly. He figures this must be one of those instances. He’s only trying to help.

That’s why his hand is still resting on Gavin’s shoulder. To keep him steady. For balance.

No other reason.

With a deep sigh, Gavin complies. Trying to take his mind off his side and the surprising warmth of the PI’s tender touch. A pleasant contrast to the crisp autumn chill now lingering on his sweat dampened skin. Gavin fights back a tremor, allowing his eyes to fall shut as cars pass on the street. Letting his mind wander.

So, this was a bust, but perhaps they’re just not looking in the right places. They need to dig deeper. Gavin recalls the revolution. All those androids holed up in an abandoned cargo ship. Could it be that their suspect has found sanctuary some place similar?

“What was in the rubble?”

“Hm?”

“In the shoe print. What was in the rubble?” Gavin’s still hunched over, bouncing a knee. Nines slides his hand away, tucking both in his pockets as he ponders.

“Concrete, rust, common soil.”

Reed snorts. “Well, that narrows it down,” he mutters. He opens his eyes to Nines, who thoughtfully begins to pace as he considers this. Each step a delicate roll from heel to the toe of his polished leather ankle boot.

“Curiously enough, there were traces of motor oil in the prints as well. Far beyond expiration. I was able to date it back well into the twentieth century.”

“What, like the 1900’s?”

Nines shrugs. Detroit is a large city known for its automotive history. All the motor oil suggested was that it was picked up in an older building, so it wasn’t heavily looked into. Nines had focused more on the rust and debris found instead, thinking it may give clearer insight to where their perp might be hiding.

But Gavin sees it as a neon sign. He knows this area- he knows it painfully well- and sure, Detroit’s chock full of demolished industry plants, sprinkled all across the city, but one sticks out in his mind because it’s relatively close to their current location.

And smack dab in the middle of all three crime scenes.

“The Packard Plant..” He mumbles, visible cogs turning behind his eyes as the evidence aligns. Nines stops completely in front of him. Still with his hands tucked and that lilt to his head.

“The Packard Plant? Detective Reed, that conglomeration of buildings is nearly condemned. Most of it’s in ruin.”

“Right, but the main stretch of it was preserved back in the 2010’s.” He knows this because he remembers it. The city blocked off two separate buildings to keep trespassers at bay while putting ideas in the works to completely excavate the majority of the plant. A project that has yet to see fulfillment, with the entire factory being tens of thousands of square feet in total. But those preserved buildings were still standing like ghostly shells.

And squatters have been reported in the past.

Nines twitches his ears, he’s thinking about it.

“It’s city property. I need a warrant,” he says finally.

Gavin stands, the pain nearly subsided but still aching. “I’ll expedite it.” Still, Nines doesn’t seem convinced.

“This is a stretch, Detective.”

The smaller man flashes a smirk. “Is it?” He steps forward, sauntering. “Think about it, androids thrive in dark and creepy. What’s darker and creepier than an old automotive building that’s been rotting away for over a hundred years? And it’s between all three crimes. No one ever goes there. You even found old timey motor oil,” Gavin shakes his head in a mock of disdain, hands on his hips. “It’s like you’re not even a detective android.”

Another car passes on the street behind them. Nines blinks. Once more he is challenged. Staring intensely as the smaller man stops before him, unaware of how close they are until he’s lost in that gaze. Still with a playful grin on his lips.

Nines can’t stay mad at him. Now when he’s got a hunch like this.

One that’ll get his ass handed to him if he’s wrong, but Gavin’s willing to roll the dice on this one.

The android’s temple cycles yellow for a moment, then he straightens.

“Fine. Let’s go get our warrant,” he says finally. Gavin watches him turn, facing the street. His silhouette stuns against the gritty urban backdrop of a Detroit inner city and softly, the growl of an engine approaches. 

One that Gavin recognizes instantly. 

This doesn’t muddle his surprise at all when he sees that motorbike, all too familiar by now. With its sleek and shiny paint job gleaming in the sun and its subtle purr rumbling in low gear as it cruises sans rider. Gliding faultlessly up to the curb where the kickstand slowly lowers, effectively parking the motor vehicle right in front of the expecting android.

Gavin can’t help it. He gawks. 

“Yo, what the fuck?”

Nines steps off the curb and unclips his helmet. Then turns back to Gavin. 

Far too fucking pleased with himself.

“C’mon, Detective. I’ll take you back to your car.”

It doesn't quite register. Gavin squints. 

“On that? Your death trap on wheels? No thanks, I’m good.”

Nines straightens as if to attest this statement. “It’s far safer than your outdated Jetta.”

Solid dig. He might even deserve it for calling the motorbike dumb. 

A hill he has to die on now out of spite alone. 

“I beg to differ.”

Gavin looks at Nines, then the bike, then back at Nines. Those baby blues staring back at him, gorgeous in the daylight. 

“Your heart rate suggests that you’re still in pain.”

Yeah, that’s what it is.  

Gavin takes an uninspired step forward, hesitantly examining the bike further. It idles patiently. Built for such endeavors that might require a bit of speed and longevity. Given his line of work, Gavin can assume that Nines has already put quite a few miles on it. 

He diverts the conversation. Glancing skeptically at the taller PI. 

“So, is this like Bluetooth or somethin’?” 

“Similar. My range spans up to fifty miles,” Nines explains. He tucks that helmet under and arm and mounts the bike. Gavin tries not to stare as those long legs part over the seat. “Pretty convenient if I’m ever stranded alone in a desolate neighborhood,” he adds flatly. He sends the shorter man a mischievous glint, then extends that helmet out to him. Full face, solid black. Matching the aesthetic of the bike with its sharp, flowing angles.

Gavin’s eyes bounce between it and its owner. “In my defense,” he snarks. “You were being a dick. And I’m not wearing that.”

“Yes you are.”

Gavin huffs.

“It’s the least you could do for the troubles you’ve caused today,” Nines says, softly teasing. He’s got a gimmer in his eyes that’s almost enticing. “I might even find it within myself to forgive you.”

And if he bats those pretty lashes, Gavin’s done for. Of course, Nines doesn’t need to resort to such measures. Gavin’s snatching that helmet out of his hand before it’s even a finished thought in his head. Swallowing his pride as he reluctantly mounts the back of the bike. Unsure where to grab or how close to sit even as Nines scoots forward just a touch. The engine rumbling beneath the seat as the smaller man settles in.

The helmet’s a little big, but it’s comfortable. The visor is tinted, and thankfully so. His cheeks are burning with a vibrant blush that he’s eager to hide. Nines, seemingly unbothered, bears the alabaster chassis of his right hand to connect to the bike, effectively shifting gears in preparation for take off.

“Hold on,” he warns. Gavin finds purchase on the seat, thinking he couldn’t possibly survive wrapping his arms around Nines when he’s already struggling with the fact that his slender frame is slotted perfectly between his own muscular thighs.

But he turns his head and says, “Gavin, I suggest you hold onto me for your own safety.” As if it were a genuine concern. One Gavin would like to ignore as he tries to filter his thoughts of promiscuity.

“I’m good,” he says quickly. 

“Suit yourself.”

The bike lunges forward. Gavin swears, scrambling forward in effort to avoid being flown back. Wrapped around the android so suddenly. Arms low on his waist, chest flush against his back. Nines doesn’t let up or slow down as he merges onto the street. Surprisingly warm and firm beneath the smaller man’s touch.

Maybe it’s the helmet that drowns out all the noise. The rushing wind, the sound of the throttle growling. Even the rapid pulse in Gavin’s ears. 

Or maybe it’s something else entirely. It’s a rush either way. One that’s equally terrifying as it is exhilarating.

Fondly Gavin thinks, as the ride evens out and Nines blends seamlessly into traffic, that maybe the motorbike’s not so dumb after all.

Notes:

*SQUEALING*

Gavin's gonna learn to love that motorbike. Idgaf.

Also, these two vs. an abandoned factory building? What could go wrong??

>:)

Chapter 7: Warrant

Notes:

Sorry for the wait, this chapter went through about a dozen changes because it's literally the obligatory nothing chapter that's like, right before all the fun stuff.

That being said, I could explode. Thank you so much for all the love and positivity! Unfortunately, I’ve had to restrict my comments again because some people don't understand the concept of, "don't like it, don't read it."

All that aside, I still greatly appreciate any specks and crumbs of support ya'll are willing to give. I am but a pigeon hungry for bread.

I am also sleep deprived. Strike that pigeon comment, I am not a poet xD

Anyway, Gavin's a horny mess plS ENJOY

Unfortunately, obtaining a search warrant takes time. These days, it can take anywhere from hours to days depending on the mood of the judge and the nature of the case. This becomes evident after the initial excitement of compiling the evidence into a nice little PDF file and sending it off in an expedited email wears off. Commencing the age-old game of hurry up and wait, though Reed’s hoping the triple homicide adds to the urgency; however, it becomes clear that they won’t hear anything right away. As time seems to drag from the moment they arrive back in the bullpen until they part ways again later that evening. A reluctant decision for both parties, but Gavin could feel it in his bones. 

He was exhausted. 

He even calls in the next morning for personal time just to catch up on some sleep. Otherwise, he’ll just be stuck pushing paperwork all day while they wait and he wasn’t about to spend his time on the clock as office bitch. He takes advantage of the downtime instead. Making it clear that no one was to bother him unless their reasoning involved his warrant, so to say he was dead to the world after that would be a complete understatement. 

Completely and utterly dead it seemed. Face first in the pillow, no pants. Just a loose t-shirt and his boxers, buried beneath the covers with his black out curtains drawn to keep the daylight at bay. Sleep had come surprisingly easy given the wear he’d put on his body the morning prior and the long hours he spent making sure they had their ducks in a row at the precinct.

Nines had left to do the same on the other side of town when he’d finally convinced himself to leave. He said he wanted to check in with their captain, to give him a status report. Whatever. Gavin felt some sense of relief, thinking if Nines wasn’t around then he could actually think clearly.

He’d still been pretty distracted in his absence. Even in slumber. Thinking about the fit of that lissome waist between his strong thighs. The vibrations of the engine beneath the seat of his pants. Recollections that made him hopelessly hot under the collar. 

Gavin sighs into his pillow. His mind more awake than his tired body. Stirring up thoughts that could otherwise get him in trouble. Thoughts he can’t help but to welcome in the state of his delirium as he mindlessly draws a leg up, hips pooling with heat as visions flash behind his eyes. Aimlessly wondering if straddling Nines would feel just as good, if not better than straddling the bike had. If he had a similar power behind those hips. Gavin’s already had a taste of his strength each time he’s picked him up or thrown him around. Something he never expected to excite him the way that it does, but then again, he’s usually been the dominating force in past flings and situationships. 

But considering the way his body is responding to these unfiltered thoughts, he may actually welcome the idea of a change.

He arches his back, moaning softly into the pillowcase. Dick filling out against the mattress. A lazy hand squirms beneath his hips as he rouses enough to recognize the reactions his body is having to these half baked, erotic inquiries that were starting to bubble up from the depths of his subconscious. Easing his fingertips over the fabric of his plaid print boxers. Just a tease before he slips an eager palm over the growing mound eagerly pressed against the sheets. A single jolt of pleasure pulsing in his groin as he nearly melts into his own touch, another breathless sigh muffled against the cover.

Gavin gets about one more squeeze in before he is startled awake by a series of knocks on his front door. Knocks that bleed through his paper thin walls and nearly erupt throughout the apartment. Making his heart jump and his breath catch. Snatching his hand out of his pants like some hormonal teenager who’s just been caught.

It takes him about half a second to gather his bearings. Exhaustion still keeping him dazed.

He groans, landing face first back into the pillow. Edith steps over his back. 

He lazily sweeps his hands over the sheets searching for his phone, finds it and turns his head. Glowering at the screen. It’s past noon and he has several unread messages. One’s from Tina that he quickly skims with blurry vision. Something about an, “Officer Dreamboat,” that’s looking for him and a bunch of kissy face emojis that leave him feeling minorly perturbed. 

Is.. Is this part of the wet dream?

And who the fuck is Officer Dreamboat?

He glosses over the other unread messages, and then it clicks. 

Oh shit.

He bolts out of bed. Swearing as he damn near takes the comforter with him. Trying desperately to locate a pair of pants while he stumbles. Another patter of insistent knocks can be heard from the front door.

Impatient bastard, he thinks, finding yesterday's jeans and decides to settle as he yanks them up. Thinking, this better be about their warrant, with a bitter tongue as he adjusts his half chub with a grimace and another curse, then shuffles out of the bedroom. Running a hand through his disheveled mop of hair and navigating his way across the dimly lit apartment. 

Edith is a sweet little jingle behind him, for she is curious about the sudden commotion.

Gavin takes one moment to stop, pause, and breathe before he all but rips the damn thing off its hinges. Scowling. 

“Can I fucking help you?”

Nines looks surprised, standing out in the hall with a fist raised like he was going to knock again.

He lowers it, eyes bouncing as he scans the shorter man.

“Did I wake you?”

Great, so it’s obvious. Gavin rubs his face. Taking another deep breath.

“No,” he mutters, stepping aside to allow access. Nines accepts the invitation as he enters. Gavin drops his hands. His sleep-addled brain is still grappling to find the middle ground between soft, sleep, and bed to cold, loud, and awake. “The fuck’re you doing here? We get our warrant?”

“Not yet,” Nines says, gazing around. Gavin’s awake enough to notice the android is much more dressed down today. A lightweight bomber jacket, a crewneck sweater underneath and-

Is he wearing jeans?

Fuck him, they look fantastic. Gavin grumbles. 

“Well, what the hell?” He closes the door. Padding further into the front room as he crosses his arms over his chest and scrunches in. Insulation here sucks on account of the floor length windows spanning from wall to wall, so he struggles in an effort not to shiver. 

“I was restless,” the android says simply as he turns. His neck is much more slender when it’s not hidden beneath a roll of fabric. His jawline more defined. Gavin appreciates this as he studies him. 

His meeting with Captain Blaine did not go over as expected. The older man was skeptical, and Nines had never been in the face of doubt before. Met with cynicism. Of course, the older man has been under a lot of strain given his prognosis. He was supposed to be resting, preparing for surgery, but the android found him in his home office. Engrossed in his work. 

Ignoring the doctor’s orders. 

“You’re telling me that, of all possible locations, you wanna search probably the largest shit hole in Detroit?”

Nines does not worry, but this had resurfaced that same pressurized feeling his software could not previously diagnose. One he couldn’t make heads or tails of himself. Like his chest was tight and his wires were in knots. A feeling he’d much like to deny rather than accept. 

“I am simply following the evidence, sir.”

Disbelief. Discontempt. Captain Blaine was not entirely convinced. 

“Nines, it’s a needle in the haystack. On top of this, we’re going to have to split two teams between the two buildings left standing and conduct a search that may very well take hours to complete. That’s a lot of resources for one suspect.”

The captain’s uncertainty surely made an impact. Nines understood what was at stake and he knew the sacrifices being made in the process. It’s something he doesn’t take lightly; however, this was the most concrete lead they’ve had regarding the whereabouts of their suspect, and Nines was willing to do whatever it took to find him. 

No matter the cost. 

“I am aware. But my partner believes this is where we’ll find Malcolm and so do I.”

“Well good. ‘Cuz it’s both your asses on the line if this turns out to be a bust.”

It was teasing, but Nines could detect a level of seriousness to Captain Blaine’s final statement on the matter. 

And with that, he’d been dismissed. Now he stands, having sought out his unlikely partner for whatever reason. Solace? Comfort? A mere distraction even. His partner who’s still rumpled from his apparent slumber. Such a curious time to be sleeping. It was nearly one in the afternoon, but then again, Gavin’s made it clear with his excessive consumption of caffeine and his struggles with chronic fatigue that he seems to have a difficult sleep pattern. Nines would even suspect that, all previous jokes aside, he greatly suffers from bouts of insomnia. 

The thought almost makes him feel bad for even waking him. It’s clear he doesn’t rise very easily, and that he was struggling still through the fog of his lethargy. But.. Nines thinks.

He just looks so..

Soft?

Soft is not a word Nines would have ever thought to use when describing Gavin Reed, but soft is what comes to mind as he studies him now. Baggy shirt, practically hanging off his sturdy frame. Making him appear smaller. His jeans, Nines can see that they’re zipped but not buttoned, meaning he threw them on in a haste, and his hair-

Messy. Fringe falling in his eyes, save for a single flick of a cowlick curling up towards the sky and the dark shadow of facial stubble cradling his jaw. Even his lashes were still heavy. Framing those delicate, half mooned silver irises. Such a rare and peculiar color in humans. One Nines is becoming very drawn to. 

The smaller man’s face contorts ever slightly as he snorts. “So, you came here?”

Nines merely shrugs. Hands in his pockets. A default stance. “Eights was busy.” 

“Right.”

A tiny mew emits from down below. Both of them glance downward to find that Edith has made her presence known. She is gazing up at them expectantly, with big eyes and a sweeping tail.

Nines visibly lights up.

“Well, hello, beastie.”

She murrs in response, standing on pretty paws and she then circles his feet like a tiny shark. Gavin could roll his eyes.

Of all the people she could stand to get along with, and it’s this asshole.

He sighs in defeat. Raking another hand through his hair before he remembers his own state of dress. Then he yawns and stretches. Revealing the skin beneath the hem of his shirt. Jeans definitely unbuttoned. Nines wonders if he even realizes it, catching a glimpse of what fabric lies beneath his waist band and a thin trail of hair.

“Alright. I’m gonna change,” Gavin announces. “Then we’re gonna take a walk,” he says. 

Nines crouches down to pet the cat. Musing as he does. “A walk?”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ starving.” It hits him before he even says it. Then again, he’s pretty sure all he’s eaten in the past twenty-four hours was a halfhearted bowl of cereal and a protein bar; along with several cups of coffee and a few added energy drinks. So, he’s running on fumes at this point, and if they’re going to search some abandoned factory building- hopefully in the near future- then he needs to get his energy up.

And he knows just the place.

“How will a walk cure your hunger?” Nines inquires, hand gliding over the base of Edie’s back. She raises her little bum and rubs against him. Gavin can hear her purring from where he stands. The sight alone kicks up more of those intrusive thoughts and feelings he’s been struggling to repress. Something about Nines on that level, looking up at him with those captivating blue eyes. Sparkling fondly. 

“Uh, there’s a taco truck down the street. That’s how.” He says like, duh. Putting up a front in an effort to bite it back. Like he hadn’t been in a very compromising position when the android knocked, thinking about all the pieces of him that Gavin was so helplessly drawn to.

Nines only hums, blissfully unaware and content to resume his prior task of petting the cat as she continues to bump and rub against him. With that little motor going about a mile a minute, Gavin could scoff.

Part of him might even be a little jealous. He took great pride in being the only person she liked.

He steps away, shaking his head instead. 

Mumbling, “careful with her. She can be pretty testy.”

Not like he needs to say anything, clearly, they’re the best of friends.

Nines still has the gall to flash him a smirk. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Gavin nearly trips, which just seems to be how his body responds to any little grin that Nines is happy to give him. And he seems unable to help the smile he returns.

“I’m serious,” he warns, a playful lilt to his tone. “You left here unscathed last time, but she’s a tiny killer.”

Nines looks to Edith. Unable to mask his delight as he glimmers with adoration. “Are you a vicious predator?” 

Her insistent head nubs would argue otherwise. 

In response, she flops on the floor and shows him her belly. Nines smiles even wider. The forbidden fluff. 

He concludes: a vicious predator indeed. 

 

---

 

The weather outside is gloomy and overcast, with temperatures still fairing in the mid to low forties. Gavin adjusts the collar of his coat in an effort to combat the mild wind chill, dressed in a fresh outfit and a clean shaven face. 

He’d only nicked himself once, a product of stubbornly avoiding the mirror. That cut still stung along his jaw, but it hadn’t bled much, so he didn’t bother to dress it.

With mild spite, he figures it’ll blend in with the rest of his scars and abrasions. A thought he has as he leads them on their excursion, in a relatively short journey as they manage to locate that aforementioned taco truck. Sitting in its usual spot by a local park only a couple of blocks away from the apartment complex. Gavin eagerly hops up to the window, hands stuffed in his pockets as he’s met with an array of smells that all seem enticing. Of course, he’s frequented this mobile establishment about a million times over. After long nights, drunk stupors, even episodes of extreme boredom. It’s rare that he ever cooks for himself despite already being a picky eater, but the fine cuisine here ticks all the right boxes for him.

He gets the same thing every time, he anticipates it as he watches the line cook expertly fill and wrap his tortilla. Shredded chicken burrito with cheese. Just cheese, nothing else. The guy always teases him. Saying what he’s ordering is basically a quesadilla.

No. It's a burrito. He’s not a child.

It’s served in a disposable take-away bowl on white parchment paper with steam curling off the top. He does his body a favor and orders a bottle of water as well, knowing he desperately needs to hydrate. Then snags a couple napkins and finds Nines waiting patiently off to the side. Blue eyes off in a wandering gaze, taking in the urban buzz of their surroundings. There’s light traffic in the streets, some straggling pedestrians. It is otherwise a quiet afternoon. 

Gavin nudges him with an elbow and the android stops and follows. The pair find a concrete picnic table nearby where Gavin has no qualms tossing his meal onto the flat surface top and plopping down to take a seat.

Nines is much more courteous. He sits in a much smoother fashion.

Gavin teases. “Do you ever relax?” 

The sun is peaking through the clouds by now, filtered through the trees with their falling, dwindling leaves. Spreading warmth that he feels through the thick material of his worn leather jacket. It bounces off the android’s pale complexion, giving him a subtle glow. 

“I am relaxed,” Nines counters. Gavin hums as he goes to take a bite. Corner of the wrap first.

“Whatever.”

It’s a mouthful of happiness. He chews, swallows and wipes the grease off his hands on one of the napkins he’d grabbed in a wad. Snatching that earlier water bottle. 

“So, what’s your deal, man?”

The android cocks his head. Having observed quietly. Nines has never been all that interested in human nuances, but he finds Gavin’s habits rather intriguing. Loads of caffeine, simple food groups, erratic sleep schedules. 

“My deal, Detective?”

Gavin cracks the lid and shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t see too many PI’s investigating homicides.”

Ah, this old chestnut. Nines considers this as Gavin sips. 

“I’m not technically a private investigator. I just work independently,” he explains loosely. 

“So, you’re an officer?” Another bite. Bigger this time. 

He was really hungry. 

“A detective,” Nines corrects. An important distinction. But Gavin squints, eyes gleaming in the sun. Nines told him he doesn’t work directly with the police department and that he doesn’t have complete access to important documents such as case notes and evidence files, however, if he works independently, then he can see why some precincts may be hesitant to give him such access.

“Where the hell’s your badge?” He asks suspiciously. Nines simply flashes him a hologram on the flat of his palm.

“I try to avoid carrying the real thing on the off chance that I may have to go undercover,” he states.

“Right, you don’t wanna be discovered,” Gavin presumes. He takes a third bite, only a quarter of the way through his burrito. Personally, he carries his own badge on his hip. He rarely goes undercover himself, so there’s no need to keep it hidden. “Still, you don’t operate out of a single precinct, you just kinda.. Float around?”

Nines leans forward and folds his arms over the table. “Yes, well, my predisposition gives me certain privileges. However, given the ever changing legislation, that may be subject to change.”

Gavin hums knowingly. “You’re gonna have to commit, huh?”

Nines makes a face to suggest that he’s not very enthused about the idea. There’s a lot that goes into it, of course. Captain Blaine wants to see how well he can play with others but it’s also the issue of the legal grey area that constantly follows him. 

The captain has made it clear in the past: he doesn’t want another situation like Connor’s. His detective status had been invalid under Captain Fowler due to negligence. Something hard to rectify after things had gone sideways. If Nines happens to find himself on the wrong side of a case, he could very well be faced with similar repercussions. Luckily, he was technically under oath. Still, he was flying under the radar and the work he was doing didn’t look good on paper. It practically screamed for a mistrial. Especially with a case this demanding and high profile. 

Perhaps that’s why Captain Blaine seems so unsure about this whole endeavor. 

“It’s very likely,” he mutters. Gavin gets it to an extent. There’s a reason he doesn’t have an assigned partner- other than the fact that he is notoriously hard to work with given his stubborn and callous nature. Frankly, he likes working alone- he prefers it. Not having to rely on anyone else, or worry about them on that same token. It takes a lot of pressure off of his already demanding occupation.

However, he’s worked with officers in the past. Lieutenant Anderson, for instance. They made a hell of a team. Albeit, it ended in Gavin getting shot, but that was a product of his own impetuous actions. Still, he enjoyed working with the older man, and he’d do it again if given the opportunity.

Gavin sucks his teeth and offers another half hearted shrug. “Hey, it’s not so bad. You get a nice uniform out of it and maybe you’ll wind up workin’ with Tin Can. Who knows.”

“Yes, Connor and I would make a rather unstoppable team,” Nines says warmly. His lips upturned only slightly, his fingers drumming on the table top. Gavin lifts his burrito again.

“No more vigilante shit though.” 

The PI sighs in a wistful manner. Eyes in a faraway daze as if for dramatic effect. 

“That is probably the biggest downside. Contrary to my design, I find our justice system to be very corrupt.”

This genuinely tickles the detective agent. He laughs. “Ha! You fuckin’ liberal.” 

With a narrowed look, Nines counters this quickly. 

“You’re a registered Democrat.”

Bold of him to assume that Gavin actually votes. He smiles wickedly.

“And?”

They’re locked in a trance. Eye to eye. Reed with his devious glint and Nines pretending not to be pleasantly amused. Unfortunately for him, the dimple in his left cheek serves as a dead giveaway.

He almost itches to say something stupid, like how they should do this again sometime. When the case is closed and their time together doesn’t involve chasing suspects or searching for clues in mounds of evidence. How he enjoys their brief, personal conversations and even their playful bickering.

How he would consider another partnership in the future because, despite the amount of times they’ve butted heads, a small part of him has enjoyed working with Nines. Even if it’s mostly involved him making a complete ass of himself, or planted strange thoughts and feelings he’s always pushed away for the sake of his own protection.

But Gavin says nothing, because he can’t. His words are lodged in his throat; his appetite is diminished. The longer he looks at Nines, the harder he falls. 

It’s fleeting.

It’s temporary.

And as if to prove a point, the universe cuts this moment short with a sign. Nines flutters yellow at his temple light, and Gavin feels his phone buzz in his coat pocket. The android blinks and Gavin fumbles for his cell.

He drops his forgotten burrito back in its bowl and immediately perks up.

“Holy shit-”

Their warrant was approved. Nines is already on his feet.

“I guess we should-”

Gavin follows, tucking his phone away, raring to go.

“Yeah, you gonna summon the metal steed or you ridin’ with me?”

Nines looks him up and down. His temple flickers and his ears twitch. 

“It’s more practical for us to stay together,” he says, trying his best to remain pragmatic when really he just feels breathless. Something he’ll blame on the excitement of obtaining their warrant and the anticipation of the impending search.

Reed bobs his head in a quick nod, then tosses his trash in a nearby bin in passing. The two seamlessly merge side by side in a matching quick stride. Gavin with his hands weaseled into his coat pockets, Nines and his rhythmic gait.

“Let’s fuckin’ go then.”

Notes:

*screeching*

To say I am so ready to get this ball actually rolling would be the understatement of the YEAR.

Chapter 8: The Sweep

Notes:

Into the thick of it

Into the thick of it

OOF

I am beyond excited, I’ve never written a scene like this, but I was super pumped in doing so. I hope it gives what it needs to give.

TW: Gavin being Gavin and minor injuries, nothing too descriptive. Also, Tina being my new spirit animal

Enjoy!

Gavin could hardly contain his excitement. Bouncing a knee in his chair where he’s convened with fellow officers- some from district nine who have filtered in, Tin Can included- all joined in one of the meeting rooms where both captains are discussing a game plan up by the podium.

Nines seems to linger patiently behind who Gavin vaguely recognizes as Captain Blaine, awaiting instruction. The man’s tall and fit for his age, more so than Fowler. There’s an obvious tension between the two superiors, but they each mask it with a thin veil of professionalism. 

He listens well enough to get the gist. Considering the demolition, most of the plant was mere piles of rubble. However, a petition was signed years ago to preserve two of the main buildings, respectively the only structures still standing on solid foundation. Both service buildings, hollowed out by the passage of time. One of which suffered from major overgrowth of plant life that they had to heavily consider. It was quickly decided amongst the higher officers that drones would be utilized to search the higher levels and scout the perimeter outside. Otherwise, it’ll be two teams, split into pairs. One group takes the first floor, the other takes the second. 

Blaine wants to work under the cloak of night. Their suspect won’t see them coming and it gives them an advantage. Fowler thinks that’s perilous and puts their officers at risk. There is no compromise on this front, as Blaine is a force to be reckoned with.

“This means we get to break out the night vision goggles,” Tina leans and whispers, occupying the chair beside him, sharing in the anticipation of the sweep. She was the latest addition, having been assigned on account of her growing dedication to the force and her shining record as a patrolling officer. Gavin flashes her a smirk, but her enthusiasm does not go unnoticed by the other captain.

“Officer Chen, questions?” Blaine barks. Voice firm and assertive. Lacking any room for patience. She meekly shrivels back into her chair and squeaks.

“No, sir.”

Captain Blaine continues, though his hardened gaze lingers on the younger officer for a moment longer. As if to purposely make her squirm- she does. Gavin almost feels bad but then remembers all the times she’s laughed at his expense and decides it's worth the laugh he manages to suppress. Still able to follow along as Blaine addresses the room this time. Formally introducing the looming figure behind him. Having stood attentively at parade rest during the briefing, consumed by a different kind of anticipation as his mind runs in circles. 

It had become apparent in the car as they got closer to the precinct just how fast everything was moving. How real it was becoming. Nines was only familiar with apprehension when it came to Captain Blaine. His mentor and companion, whose appearance today and his self appointed involvement in their mission had surprised him entirely. Once more, he should be resting. A fact that the older man is painfully well aware of and yet continues to ignore, as if he could spare some strength or peace of mind before his surgery. 

But Nines struggles with something else entirely that only adds to the mounting pressure he feels building in his core. Something new and completely foreign to him. 

He is worried. That is not new. 

He is worried about Gavin. 

That is..

A developing theme that’s been slowly unfolding before him. Thus far, Gavin’s behavior has proven to be reckless and unpredictable. Two traits in a recipe for disaster when Nines thinks of all the possible scenarios in which his designated partner may throw himself into harm’s way, and all the opportunity for him to have another episode such as what happened when the roof nearly collapsed on them only days ago. 

All of which are risks he cannot take. 

Blaine steps to the side and brings him back to the present by stating the android’s chosen name. “This is Nines, he will be acting as your leading officer,” he says with resonance. The PI pans those eyes across the room. He is otherwise a statue. Avoiding Gavin entirely. “Any and all signs of movement or suspicion will be reported back to him. Nobody acts without his command.” 

There’s dominion in every syllable. He turns back to Nines and gives him the floor. “State your second.”

At ease, Nines walks up to the podium and nods in the respective direction. He knows what’s expected. He knows his decision will be questioned. It does not come lightly. 

Gavin will just have to understand. 

He appoints Connor instead. The RK800 being seated only a few chairs down from the other detective, fully engaged as he’s meticulously cherry picked by his predecessor. 

He speaks to him directly. “Officer Anderson, I’ll have you lead the first floor. Divide your teams accordingly,” he says. 

Connor perks up and bows his head cordially. 

“Yes, sir.”

He goes into detail about his chosen strategy. They work their way in from the courtyard, with separate teams divided between east and west wings, and back out through the northside facing Grand Boulevard. His instructions are simple and he delivers them in a clean, succinct sort of manner.

He may not want the job, but he sure as hell fits right into a position of command, Gavin thinks. 

But something’s off.

“Any questions?”

So many, but he’ll handle it privately. Joining the collective shaking of heads from across the room in solidarity as Nines leaves the podium and Captain Blaine closes with a quick run down of safety protocol before they are promptly dismissed. 

That’s when he files towards the front, waiting for the room to clear out a little bit before he decides to approach Nines. The android seems a bit preoccupied. Both captains are off in a private discussion on the other side of the room and he’s watching them closely.

Gavin decides to play it cool, breezing up to him.

“Guess it’s gonna be a pretty long night.”

“If everything goes smoothly, it should only take a few hours,” the android counters in an even tone.

Reed sighs. Hands on his hips. “Yeah, but we got processing and shit to do once we find the bastard.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “So, I’m gonna go pound a few coffees and get into gear-” 

“That won’t be necessary.”

He stops, staring blankly. “What d’you mean?”

Nines seems apprehensive. “You’re not going.”

Gavin blinks. His stomach hits the floor. “Uh, I beg your fucking pardon?”

Nines is not going to repeat himself. This makes Gavin fume. 

“I’m not going? Like you’re pulling me from the fucking mission?” He grapples, trying to understand how it went from, “we should stick together,” to throwing him completely off the case in just a few short hours. 

Surely, he’s misunderstood. Nines wouldn’t kick him from the investigation, they were past all that. At least, Gavin thought they were. Studying him now, the PI only seems to be growing more annoyed, which makes it even worse. He drones on like this is a conversation they’ve already had. Like he was expecting it. 

“I can’t pull you, I am simply telling you. Trust me, it’s in your best interest,” he says, like he’s doing the other man a solid favor. Then he moves as if to leave the room. Gavin acts as a barrier, stopping in front of him. Shaking furiously, feeling completely wrecked- betrayed even.  

“My best interest? What the fuck makes you qualified to determine my best interest?”

Nines looks like he pities him. A softness to his tone to suggest his deepest apologies. “Detective Reed-”

Gavin practically snarls. Lip curled and eyes searing. “Don’t do that. Don’t spin this on me. You’ve wanted full control of this investigation since day one and you knew I wasn’t gonna just roll over and let you fucking take it.”

“Gavin, this isn’t about the case. This is about your own safety,” Nines rebuttals, like he actually gives a damn. Gavin just shakes his head.

“Bullshit.”

It sparks something in the android. He narrows his own eyes in response. “How can I trust that you won’t be chasing shadows all night when you’ve done nothing but act on impulse throughout this entire investigation?”

The detective becomes physically animated. Puffed up, raising one finger to the sky for a visible tally. “I had one panic attack because of a stupid lightbulb-”

“And you carry a second gun because you’re afraid that the first one might fail you again,” the android audaciously interjects, like he’s been waiting to play that card since he first picked it up. A dirty move, Gavin feels it like a sucker punch. Not having realized how low Nines was willing to stoop until his weaknesses were being tossed back in his face.

“I told you that was none of your goddamn business,” he sneers venomously. Nines is completely unfazed, at least he seems to be. This is the one time Gavin actively ignores his tick as the android works in his head to emotionally remove himself from the situation. He chooses to be direct.

“If you have room for doubt, then you have room for failure and I won’t tolerate it. I am leading this team, and I’m not taking you with me,” he declares, flatly and uncompromising. He doesn’t even budge as Gavin steps closer. Jutting out his chin to leer dangerously close. Right under the taller man’s nose. Eyes like thunder clouds and an edge to his voice like the calm before the storm.

“That’s too fucking bad, ‘cuz I’m seeing this shit through to the end.”

There’s a sigh somewhere in the way that Nines deflates. He’s not sure how else to express his concern, but those knots are back in his gut. His software can’t recognize it.

“Detective-”

“Is there a problem over here?”

Captain Blaine has materialized beside them, with Captain Fowler at his side. Both sporting hard looks of disapproval. Gavin spreads into a maniacal grin. 

He’s Detroit Central’s problem child after all and he’s about to cause a scene. 

“Not at all, sir. Our favorite plastic detective here was just telling me how excited he is to be leading a mission he has no fucking business being a part of.”

Captain Fowler sends him a warning. “Detective Reed, that’s enough.”

Captain Blaine is equally unimpressed and Nines is seething. 

“You better watch yourself, young man.”

Gavin’s got a nasty quip on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out and bite, one that’s quickly undercut by a rough snag on the back of his shirt. 

It’s Lieutenant Anderson, here to save his sorry ass from yet another mark on his disciplinary record. The older man yanks him back, having poked his head in the door looking for Connor and instead found Gavin digging his own grave. 

“Excuse us,” he says, all but dragging the younger man by the collar. He shoves him towards the door, Gavin goes unwillingly. Still shouting over his shoulder sardonically. 

“Hey, I’ll see you out there, partner!”

“Keep moving,” Hank snaps, already over it. He gives the younger man another hard push past the threshold where he stumbles, sending his superior office a hard scowl. 

“Hey, easy-”

Hank interrupts him abruptly. “What the fuck is your problem?” He asks sharply. Gavin nearly blows a fuse. 

“My problem!?”

“I thought you two were starting to get along,” says Hank as he folds his arms over his chest. Connor's got him a lot more cleaned up these days. With his hair now commonly swept back. Standing in a tall canvas jacket over dark plaid. Gavin falters and points.

“We were! He’s the one with the fucking problem. I mean, I actually thought-” he stops and scoffs. 

He should’ve known. He should’ve fucking known. 

He rakes both hands through his hair. “Nevermind. It’s cool. Everything’s fine.”

Hank knows better by now. He softens just a touch.

“Gav-”

To no avail. The younger detective quickly stalks off, muttering under his breath.

“I gotta start getting ready.”

 

---

 

There’s a chill in the air and it reeks of rust and decay. Gavin wrinkles his nose as he wanders the gravel, still bitter and wrought with resentment.

He’d quickly changed back at the precinct. Now decked out in lightweight raid gear. A cobalt thermal shirt that fit him nice and snug beneath a black kevlar vest, his duty belt slanted on his hip and a gun in the holster.

One tucked behind his back as well, because fuck Nines, it’s smart to have options. He’d thrown on his issued police jacket as well. Something he rarely ever wears but decided to opt for because, while it’s heavier, it’s still light enough for him to move freely and not near as noisy as his squeaky leather coat.

They’re stationed just off site, with several unmarked squad vans parked in a line. Officers filing out, once more awaiting instruction in the dwindling twilight. Gavin quickly links up with Tina, and gazes across the barren graveyard of a concrete mess, with the silhouette of the iconic south water tower off in the distance. Still standing the test of time.

He lets out a visible breath, one that hangs in the air. Unable to help himself as he searches the uniformed crowd and picks out a lone figure. Back in all black. Combat boots tapering his fitted cargo pants. Tight cold weather shirt and a leg holster supporting his weapon. Three straps, one on his waist, two hugging his thigh. He’s off playing pretend sergeant, but he finds Gavin just the same and sends the agent a loathful scowl from across the dirt lot.

He rolls his eyes, Tina notices this and sends him a look.

“You two need to make out already, the tension is killing me,” she teases. Her attire is more form fitting as well to avoid any snags. He narrows his eyes and ineffectively tells her to fuck off. She just sticks her tongue out in response.

Connor approaches them next, with his usual swagger. Having been placed as second in charge. He looks to be gearing up for a conversation he doesn’t wish to have. One he’s been warned to approach with caution.

“Detective Reed, you’re with me,” he states simply, stopping in front of the pair. He hooks his thumbs in his duty belt at rest. Authority comes to him naturally but it’s a softer contrast compared to his finished product. Gavin snorts ironically.

“Seriously? Captain Hardass is banishing me to the first floor?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Connor firmly parries, and looks the other man up and down with those sepia colored eyes. “He’s being lenient, all things considering.”

This time Gavin glowers. “Yeah, I'm sure he’s told you all about it.” He crosses his arms and pops a hip in a defensive stance. 

Connor merely shrugs.

“Only the gist,” he says.

“‘Kay, but I’m with Chen.”

“Nines wants you with me.”

“Well, he can kiss my ass,” Reed snaps. “I don’t need a babysitter. I go with Chen or I’m on my own. Your choice.”

Connor looks at him sternly, his temple flutters vividly in the darkening sky with a subtle flicker, one to suggest his dwindling persistence. Prioritizing his orders accordingly. Nines gave him instruction, but it was still his call. 

And he really doesn’t have the patience to deal with Detective Reed’s callous and stubborn attitude right now.

“Fine. But you play this by the book and you take every precaution. If you have even a moment of doubt, you fall back. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Gavin sneers. Officer Chen’s been bouncing between the two this entire time, she finally stops and looks at Gavin, shaking her head.

“Jeez, you are pissy tonight.”

He bites back a quick remark. Connor silently agrees. He promptly suggests they be prepared to move out shortly, and leaves them at that.

 

---

 

They finally leave at last light, fulfilling Captain Blaine’s earlier orders to move under the guise of nightfall. However, the moon shines bright overhead, casting its heavenly white glow across the city. Challenging their stealth operation as both teams move swiftly across the courtyard to their designated spots of entry. The stairwells were still in decent shape thanks to the reinforced concrete that they were made of. Nines has no trouble leading his brigade to the second floor where his team efficiently branches off into their assigned pairs. Of course, he goes alone. In no mood to be impeded as this is something he is built to do on his own. 

Connor more or less does the same, he scouts up ahead, but stays close by. Remaining mindful of his fellow officers even in solitude.

Despite having lunar assistance, the inside of the plant is nearly pitch black. Gavin’s able to see clearly thanks to the advanced ocular lenses he wears. With a more futuristic design compared to the bulky goggles he grew up seeing portrayed in movies and video games. These were clear, thick glasses secured by a thin strap that wrapped around the base of his skull, with motion sensing technology behind the lenses. They quickly adjust to the light or lack thereof, built for efficiency and optimal mobility. Veiling his surroundings in a monochromatic bluish grey filter.

Still, it was eerie. With shreds of insulation, casting long spindly shadows from the ceiling. Everything layered in dust. Reed scans the floor upon entering, checking for footprints. 

He finds nothing. He glances back behind his shoulder and shares a look with Tina, who isn’t far behind him. Pistols drawn. She seems hesitant, waiting for guidance in the doorway as a ghastly silhouette. He signals to move and she follows. The two of them take cautious steps going forward. Heel to toe, mindful of the broken boards creaking under their feet.

They manage to find the corridor. Weaving through thick obstacles such as fallen lumber and stray furniture left behind. Gavin checks his tactical wrist strap monitor, knowing that Officer Miller and his respective partner were searching the west side of the building and that Nines was leading a team upstairs. He nods his head, silently instructing Officer Chen to follow once more. Guiding her down the hall heading east. 

“This place is creepy,” she whispers. There’s less light on account of the lack of windows. Their goggles adjust accordingly. Showcasing a wide and expansive hollowed out hall that seemed to stretch on forever. The walls covered in graffiti and fallen beams strewn across the busted pavement.

“Just keep moving,” Gavin tells her. He once more makes a grimace, wishing he would have gone for a mask as he’s met with a stronger smell of iron and mildew. They move in a single file at a mindful pace. Searching for any signs of life, listening for any inconspicuous noises that might echo throughout the factory’s long forgotten shell.

Connor makes the occasional check in via interface through the comlink. Other officers relay their positions, declare their rooms cleared and state their next move. Gavin remains quiet, though he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t an extra skip in his trepid pulse. With the adrenaline high of the search and overbearing thought of the unknown.

Though if anything stuck from his tireless days of field training, it was the lesson of mindset. You enter each sweep expecting to find someone. It leaves little room for surprise if the search happens to be successful, and it prepares the body for fight rather than flight.

Easier said than done. His previous encounters with suspects kept ending in failure. Memories haunt him as he clears another room, growing more anxious. 

He’s got a bad gut feeling and it just keeps getting worse. 

Tina nudges him, as if she can sense it. 

“You good?”

“Stellar,” he whispers, leading her back out into the corridor.

“Detective Reed, status report.”

He huffs.

Fuckin’ Tin Can.

He presses the comlink hooked to his ear, debris softly crumbling beneath his steps.

“Eastward bound, no sign of our suspect.”

“10-4”

“You want a wellness check too?” He quips, still communicating through his ear piece. Connor’s being sassy with his retort. 

“Nope, I can see you.”

Reed stops and whips his head around, of course, he can’t see Connor.

That slippery motherfucker.

He hisses. “Then why the fuck do you need a status report?”

“Formality.”

Gavin growls in frustration, ripping his hand away from his ear. Sick and tired of being treated like a fucking rookie, of being constantly overlooked and underestimated. “Let’s go,” he tells Tina, picking up the pace. She has no choice but to match it. Taking quiet, light footed steps as she trails behind. He takes a sharp left turn through an old metal door. Scanning with the barrel of his gun. It’s another wide open space, gutted and barren.

Or so he thinks. Gavin’s goggles flash in the corner, indicating movement to his right. Noise follows. It’s practically a skitter. Officer Chen sees it too. She stifles a gasp and he urges her to follow.

It could be anything.

But whatever it is, it’s headed towards the staircase. One that’s flush against the concrete wall and pivots against the next. Gavin rushes gracefully so as not to give away his position, catching just the tail end of a dark silhouette before it disappears on the second floor. 

He stops, thinking: he can do one of two things.

He can call it in and alert Nines, given that this ominous figure has just unknowingly entered the android’s self appointed territory.

Or

He can choose to pursue, without relaying anything to anyone.

Because it could be nothing.

And he’s been wrong enough here lately that it almost justifies this erratic decision. One he makes, flying by the seat of his pants as he takes the first step before Tina grabs him by the arm and yanks him back by the sleeve. 

“What are you doing?” She hisses, surprisingly strong given her smaller stature. “We can’t go up there, it’s against our orders.” 

“It’s called probable cause, Chen. Look it up,” he snarks and brushes her off, ready to resume his eager ascent before she catches him again. 

“Gavin.”

The older detective sends her a look of dead set determination. “Are you with me or not?” He says. It’s not fair to put her in this position, but he’s willing to take the fall for it if he happens to be wrong again. 

Tina sighs, knowing her attempts are futile and that he’s not going to listen. She may as well be pleading with one of these vandalled walls. So, she follows because she’d rather have his back this time than to let him go alone. Even if every fiber of her being is screaming at her to fall back and report what they saw.

“I swear to god, if you get us canned or killed for this-”

They bound up the steps, Gavin lands effortlessly on the second floor. The layout practically mirrors the first. An open, endless stretch of concrete pillars and urban markings. This area, however, was a little more dilapidated. The floorboards were cracked and warped. Parts of the ceiling were missing, offering a third floor view. The light of a drone passes by overhead. Reed carries on in the defeating silence. Eager to locate their mysterious dark phantom as he once more searches the floor for prints. For anything that might help him track their missing figure. 

It is unbeknownst to him that they are being watched. That a dark shadow silently lingers, anxious to remain a ghost behind these weathered walls. It observes quietly from afar, having laid a trap in case humans got too close. 

Tina stops, suddenly unsure. 

“Gav, I don’t think-“

A beam falls, crashes. A violent force comes with it, knocking Gavin off his feet with a solid blow to the head. He hits the ground hard, completely dazed and disoriented; his goggles askew. He curses, writhing on the floor. All thoughts muddled with the throb in his skull and a sharp ache in his shoulder from how he landed. His gun was still held tightly in one hand as he struggled to rise. Engulfed in a cloud of dust. 

He coughs. Up on his knees adjusting his eyewear. There’s a single crack in the lens, but he finds that earlier figure just as it’s bolting further down the hall with heavy, dissipating footfalls.  

Reed clambers to his feet suddenly, shaken but otherwise unharmed. However, he’d heard a shrill cry somewhere in the midst of all that. One sharp and pain stricken as it had bounced off the empty hollows of the industrial plant. Gavin fans the air, searching the floor where he finds Officer Chen, pinched beneath the beam that had fallen. 

She squirms beneath it with labored breaths.

Gavin holsters his weapon and rushes to her aid with another swear, attempting to lift or push the metal pipe away from her. It’s cold to the touch, freezing almost. He can feel it through the breathable material of his goatskin leather gloves.

“Tina!? Tina, are you good? Are you with me?” He’s speaking frantically.

“My leg-” she wheezes. Sharp, pinching pain pulsating throughout the affected appendage. She hacks up more dust. Covered in dirt and grime. Gavin can’t get any leverage despite how hard he tries. Bearing his teeth, hoisting with his legs. 

It’s no use. He can’t lift it on his own. Gavin steps back, panting hard in the thick, frigid air. Angry with defeat. 

“Fuck!”

Tina falls back, practically lying flat on the floor, hands slipping under her goggles to stem the flow of tears she can no longer suppress. Breathes in choppy broken sighs. 

“It hurts-”

The older officer kneels by her side in a quick flash, chest like a gaping wound at the sound of her cries. Kicking himself over and over again for dragging her up here, for putting her at risk. 

For chasing fucking shadows. 

“I know, I know. Just hang in there, alright? I’m gonna call for backup-”

Another voice emerges from the dark. 

“What are you doing up here?”

Gavin whips around ready to draw his gun again, so on edge already from the adrenaline coursing through his veins and his residual panic that he doesn’t even care that Nines looks completely pissed off. In fact, he lets out a breath of relief. 

That indignant scowl is a goddamn sight for sore eyes if he ever found one.

“Nines? Nines, you have to help me lift this- Tina’s stuck,” he quickly returns to the pipe, ready to try again.

The android stops and pauses for only half a second, he wasn’t all that far away when he'd heard the ruckus. Something he was ready to brush off and excuse as being a product of the factory’s severe state of corrosion. Ultimately, it was Officer Chen’s anguished cry that tipped him off, and he left to locate the source immediately. 

He’s already called for backup. His LED light blinks as he relays their location and very quickly assesses the situation, then preconstructs a rescue tactic in his mind and moves to assist. Nevermind the questions he has for Detective Reed. Like why was he up here, deliberately disobeying orders? What did he have to prove in doing so?

Why couldn’t he just sit back and stay out of harm’s way?

No. None of that matters now. What’s important is removing the beam from Officer Chen’s knee. The bone was likely crushed, so she was in dire need of immediate medical attention. 

That’s what made his next move so easy. He steps over the pipe, one foot on either side, and bends to secure his hold. 

He looks up at Gavin and gives him direction. 

“I’ll lift. You slide her out. Ready?” Short, sweet. Straight to the point. But Gavin’s still worried. Visibly unsure and trembling in darkness. 

“Nines, that thing’s heavy. Are you sure-?”

They don’t have time. Nines adjusts his grip and speaks more firmly. “On three.”

Gavin snaps his mouth shut and it seems to click. He goes and hooks his arms under Tina’s and he nods. She whines miserably. Nines can detect her amplified heart rate, he can see her glossy cheeks through the void surrounding them with his advanced vision. A product of steady tears streaming down her face. 

His ears twitch with uncertainty. 

“One.”

But something changes in Gavin. His demeanor shifts. Nines can hear him murmur encouragingly to his fellow officer.

“We’re gonna get you outta here, okay?”

He finds it odd, unable to fully understand. He knows what Gavin is doing is offering reassurance, but he doesn’t quite grasp how such tenderness could come so easily from someone so crass. When all he’s seen from Gavin was a standoffish, and abrasive nature. 

He looks back at Tina. With only brief encounters to go off of, he can see the two are very close. 

Gavin must really care for her. 

“Two.”

Reed continues. “I’m gonna need your help though, you gotta push with your good leg. You hear me?” He’s grounding her. Keeping her engaged.

Tina takes in a sharp, wet gasp. Vigorously shaking her head. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. Ready?”

Their eyes meet. Gavin’s behind a fractured lens, Nines beneath a mask of infrared light. They share a look of camaraderie and finally the pieces all seem to fall into place. 

This is what Captain Blaine wanted him to see. This is what he wanted him to experience. Maybe not this scenario exactly, but for a scene to play out in which Nines was forced to work with his fellow officers rather than against them. To realize that it’s possible to be stronger in numbers rather than in solitude. 

“Three.”

Nines lifts the beam, his model can handle the weight, but only very briefly. Gavin’s not here to test that limit. He drags the younger officer out from under the damn thing and practically falls flat on his ass as a result. Tina cries out in part crippling pain and fleeting relief. Doing her part to kick herself away from the beam. Both her and Gavin collapse in a heap and Nines drops the pipe with a loud, heavy groan against the floor. Straightening as he stands. Feeling the effects of the heavy load on his durable frame. 

“Holy fuck,” Gavin sighs. Perspiration drying on his clammy skin as he cradles the injured officer splayed out in his lap, still staring wide eyed at the pipe in a state of bewilderment like he can’t believe they actually got her out from under it. 

Nines steps quietly over the beam. Disturbing the rubble beneath his feet. Tina’s pants are ripped from where the pipe had nearly crushed her. She’s got a hand down trying to assess the damage. Humming in obvious pain.

The PI crouches down beside them. “I’ve called for backup. They should arrive shortly.”

Gavin nods dumbly. “Okay.”

The android cocks his head. He could reconstruct the scene, but he wants to hear it first hand.

“Gavin, what happened?”

The detective sighs again, this time his breath roughly vacates his chest. Unsure if Nines will even believe him considering his track record thus far, but now Tina’s hurt and that can’t have been for nothing. 

“I saw something. It was an android. It had to have been- it came out of nowhere.”

Nines looks at him seriously. They have no room for doubt here. “You’re certain?”

The detective points. “It booked it down the hall, headed east. If you’re lucky, you can still catch it.”

“No,” Nines says suddenly. Both officers stop and look at him like they’re completely astounded. Gavin even suspiciously squints behind his tactical eyewear. 

“No?”

"Backup is estimated to arrive in roughly forty seconds. We can still finish this together.”

He can’t explain it, but somehow this whole thing has become more than just another investigation. Much more than just another job. 

Gavin is his partner. His reckless, heedless, daring and unlikely partner and Nines was not going to finish this investigation without him. 

Between the two, Tina coos. Gazing up at them warm heartedly through her own mask, fighting the grimace and the chills as her leg angrily throbs.

“Awww.”

She is ignored mostly. Gavin would pinch her if she wasn’t hurt. But he'd be lying if he’d said his heart didn’t flutter, that he was revved up with another rush of excitement- that this is all he wanted from the very beginning. 

To be seen, to be needed.

“Fuck, alright,” he says instead, unable to help but to break into a wide grin. 

He can already hear the rescue cavalry parading down the hall. Their boots clomping in a mismatched pattern on broken concrete. Reverberating in the open, empty space encapsulating them. 

“But you follow my lead, understood?” Nines is serious. He’s done fucking around, Gavin can see that past his busted lens, through the slow falling dust still floating in the air around them and under the cloak of pitch black darkness. 

He’s not going to fuck it up this time. 

“I got it.”

“Are you two gonna kiss?”

Chen’s a little delirious, Reed bites back a furious blush.

“Tina.”

Nines simply smiles at her, and settles his arms over his knees, still perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet. “You’re a very odd woman,” he muses. That’s an endearment coming from him.

But fondly, he thinks, blue eyes flickering back up to Gavin.

He’s starting to like odd. 

Notes:

Tina consistently being their number one ally throughout the entire fandom gives me such life.

Also who TF is ready for these two to catch their bad guy!?

It’s me. I’m ready. I’m literally going insane over it. This is not a case fic, we’re not even halfway done yet, but I felt it was important that they work together a little bit cuz I needed some drama for the plot.

Thanks always for reading :)))

Chapter 9: Partners

Notes:

You know it's gonna be a good chapter when I upload practically immediately.

I just can't contain myself. This chapter was probably my favorite to write. So please enjoy it. Chew it up and spit it out. Tear me to shreds and lets collectively scream.

All that being said.

TW: Minor gun violence. Brief mentions of SA, and I mean BRIEF. Like no descriptions, just mentioned. I don't think it's worth tagging, but I'm also desensitized to pretty much everything, so if you think it's worth tagging, please let me know and I will act accordingly.

Otherwise...

Enjoy :)

Backup arrives right on schedule. A trio of officers that Gavin’s not familiar with, likely from the other precinct. Nines addresses the lead simply by their title as police corporal and quickly explains the situation. They each get Tina moved, one of the male officers lifts her without a hitch and handles her with care.

Gavin keeps tripping over apologies. Following them to the edge of the staircase. A new development in his character, but this time it’s more than warranted.

It’s owed. 

Ten fold.  

“I’m gonna make this up to you, T, I swear to god. Drinks on me for the rest of our lives and whatever else you want, got it?”

She glowers, face partly contorted in evident pain. “I’m seriously fucking holding you to that,” she mutters in a quiet strain. Glaring at him miserably. Add it to his list of regrets and remorses. Another officer down due to his blind negligence, another career stunting instance in which his, in this case, sister in arms has fallen victim to his incautious behavior. 

And he is left unscathed.

“Be careful with her,” he says quietly, speaking more so to one of the other PO’s. He’ll have plenty of time to kill himself over his errant actions later, but right now, they’ve got work to do. Something that becomes vastly apparent as Nines awaits impatiently behind him.

“Detective Reed,” he urges. The clock is ticking. It’s a large building, it stretches on forever, but androids are fast and their chances of catching their evasive subject are dwindling rapidly. The other detective hears him loud and clear and prepares to move.

“Wait-! Gav?”

He turns, the rescue team stops short of their descent and Tina whips off her glasses, holding them out blindly. Her world is suddenly shrouded in darkness.

“Take mine, yours are broken,” she says. Gavin looks at her, despite the fact that she can no longer see him, graciously. Thinking her heart of gold has no bounds and he really doesn’t deserve her companionship, especially after getting her injured on the job as he quickly swaps goggles. They adjust automatically to fit his head with their top tier design. Offering him a better view of his surroundings, clearer without the obstruction of a larger crack in his line of sight. He huffs out a breath and pats her on the shoulder in a show of appreciation. Then turns finally, Nines is itching to move and wastes no more time as they link up. Side by side.

The eager PI draws a pistol from his thigh holster in a clean thwip. “How fast can you run?” He asks, they're already breaking into a jog. Mindful of the broken boards and fallen obstacles in their midst.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Gavin sighs, brandishing his own weapon. Shaking the nerves and trepidation as they quicken the pace. Racing down the hollowed out, cavernous corridor.

But they don’t just wander off into the dark. Nines is thorough. He relays their objective and orders for other officers to surround the perimeter in case their suspect tries to make an escape, then he requests that another group remain on stand-by on the off chance that they may need more backup. A solid plan, but Gavin nearly doubts their mission given the huge layout of the building, thinking it may be impossible to figure out which way their suspect fled.

Luckily, Nines picks up a trail of prints in the dust that they follow, as he’s equipped with state of the art technological vision designed for this very activity. His software is able to match those prints to the size and sole recovered at each of the three crime scenes. Their wide stride suggests a hurried state, so what Gavin claimed to have seen earlier checks out in their favor.

He counts his breaths to keep them controlled. In for four, out for four. This way he’s able to keep up without getting winded. Though, Gavin’s more worried about his side flaring up. A thought he’ll push back for as long as he can. They’re not dead sprint after all, just a hasty pace that suggests no time for bullshit as Nines leads them through a maze of concrete pillars, steering to the right, following the trail as it comes to him in vibrant outlines.

There’s an abrupt turn. He snags Reed by the sleeve and guides him along. The other detective hardly misses a beat. Skipping over rubble as they delve deeper into the heart of one of Detroit’s most infamous eroding landmarks. 

Splashing puddles in their wake from leaks in the ceiling, dodging overhanging cobs of webs and overgrown roots crawling through cracks in the concrete. Coming up on a light at the end of the tunnel. Nines eases them to a stop. Gavin takes the opportunity to catch his breath. Quietly in thick, visible pants past his lips.

It’s a long, narrow hall that comes to a halt with a wide concrete archway. Glowing ominously past the threshold. They each share a look. Gavin with his lips still parted, breathing thick, harsh must from the factory’s inner decaying walls. 

“Stay here,” Nines says, as if it’s an option. This time, Gavin grabs him. With a firm grip on his upper arm, squeezing the faux muscle of his bicep.

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

Nines moves to speak. Gavin cuts him off quickly. Voice in a harsh whisper.

“Fuckin’ spare me, alright? We’re doing this together.”

There’s objection still on the PI’s tongue. They don’t know what they’re walking into. Suspect aside, this building is notorious for housing not so friendly squatters and being a common hang out for various gangs and groups of violent criminals. They could be faced with quite literally anything moving forward, and he can’t guarantee Gavin’s safety past a certain point.

Not that he won’t do anything and everything in his power to ensure it, but human and deviant nature can be dangerous and unpredictable. So, for the first time since his activation, Nines is uncertain of his outcome.

And Gavin can read it clear as a blue sky on a sunny day. Even through the grey veil of his state issued night vision goggles.

He steps forward, right under the android’s chin. Breath on a cloud. “Hey, drop the preconstructive bullshit for a second, alright? I know I’ve been nothing but a fuck up here lately, but I’ve been doing this shit for a long fuckin’ time. Now, I don’t care what you’re made of or what they programmed you to do. We’re in this together and that’s how we finish it, right?”

Nines falters. Something shifts.

“Right,” he says. Gavin cocks his pistol.

“Cool. You take the right, I’ll steer left. We shoot first and ask questions later.”

“That’s not-“

“I know. It’s a joke,” Reed teases, that snake-like smile gleaming despite being muted by darkness. Nines can feel his ring light flutter.

“Thank you for clarifying.”

Gavin motions with his head, still with a half hanging smirk.

“After you. It’s your lead,” he murmurs. His eyes behind those glasses ever so encouraging, ever so trusting. Nines must return the favor. He nods assertively and pushes forward. With Detective Gavin Reed hot on his trail. Guns at the ready, one foot in front of the other.

They emerge from the dark, each passing the arch of the threshold and branch off. Taking slow, precautious steps. Their new source of light is a set of metal trash barrels on opposing sides of the room, each aglow with a weak orange flame. The room is still dark and dreary. With windows covered by tattered tarps and sparse sheets of old newspapers littering the floor. 

There’s a desk along the wall. Cluttered with rusted and broken trinkets. Artifacts uncovered throughout the plant and collected like antique treasures. Car parts, factory tools, and curious sculptures made from fallen debris. 

Along the walls, a familiar code is written: 

rA9

It’s written probably over a hundred times over, scrawled over painted murals of urban markings in the same, clean cut Cyberlife font in all variations of sizes. Some straight and some slanted. 

Nines slowly approaches the desk, the wood is age old and chipping away at the surface. Further examining those humanoid sculptures, one short and fat, another tall and thin and one with more feminine curves. 

Each resembling one of their victims. 

Offerings? Mementos? Nothing was reported missing at either scene. Nines tilts his head and ponders this as Reed stops and stares. Gazing at the markings, his breath hanging on a cloud. 

They’ve found the lair. So, where’s the-

Something butts up against the back of his skull, Gavin feels his blood run cold and a swear promptly slips past his lips in a sharp breath.

“Drop your weapon.”

Nines spins around. He finds Reed out of reach and at gun point, wide eyed and alert. The human obliges as he steadily drops his weapon away with a quiet swear.

“Fck..”

He raises his gloved hands in surrender. Those silver eyes never falter as they lock onto Nines. Silently pleading.

Stay calm. No sudden moves. These are mantras Nines repeats to himself even as his chest violently lurches. He snaps his gaze past Gavin’s shoulder, finally eye to eye with their elusive suspect. A hazel stare that sears intently.

“You too. Drop it.”

Malcolm refers to the pistol Nines holds in both hands, barrel to the floor. His voice calm and demanding as it breaches the open air.

“And tell your men to stand down.”

He stands just inches over Detective Reed, his expression brooding. With shadows dancing across his olive complexion. He is without an LED, something he ripped from his temple upon deviation. Standing in a long coat, cowl neck underneath, frayed at the hem from long nights of exposure. There’s a gleaming cerulean slash over his cheek, thirium stemmed long ago thanks to the clotting technology found in blue blood.

Nines narrows his eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not an option,” he says. The LM100 huffs impatiently, then throws an arm around Gavin’s neck, tucking it tightly under his chin and puts the gun to his temple. Flush against his back. The human hisses, heart pounding against his ribs. Flashes behind his eyes. 

Tunnel vision pulsing.

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” Malcolm growls. He digs that barrel into Gavin’s skull. It’s cold and the pressure is unrelenting. 

It’s Tina’s carry. He made the connection when he first felt it, thinking she must’ve dropped it when the pipe fell. 

“I don’t care what happens to this human. Frankly, I’d like to see his entire race be wiped clean from this earth, but he’s my ticket out of here. So, drop your fucking weapon.”

Nines takes one slow step forward, shaking his head. “You don’t need him. I’ll escort you myself,” he barters, knowing better than to negotiate with hostels, however, a hostage situation makes things all the more delicate.

And with Gavin’s life on the line, he’ll do anything.

“You think I don’t know why you’re here?” Malcolm viciously sneers. “You’re going to arrest me for murder.”

“Malcolm, listen to me-”

“No, you listen!” He tightens his hold on the smaller man. Gavin claws at his forearm in distress. “Those other humans, they got what they deserved. Do you have any idea what she did to me? And that fucking judge let her walk. Justice for all androids? Ha! They don’t give a shit about us- and you’re here doing their dirty work-”

Nines wouldn’t be the android that he was designed to be if he hadn’t studied all the details of this case, Malcolm’s included. He’d read the court documents, the police statements. All the evidence overlooked and left out. Everything in an effort to understand the motive behind these heinous crimes that Malcolm committed and then for clues on how to find him. 

It was awful. The abuse he was subjected to. Being on the receiving end of both verbal beratings and physical assaults. 

Even reports of sexual misconduct. Stress relief, his previous owner had called it. She only wanted stress relief. Running a company was mentally taxing after all. Her lawyer had argued that. 

And there was no evidence that she had abused him after the revolution. So, the judge dismissed the case entirely. 

“I know what happened to you was unfair, but spilling more blood isn’t going to change anything. Now, you can still do the right thing. You can leave here- unharmed. But first you need to let him go, or I can’t protect you.”

Gavin’s struggling, Nines can read his pulse from across the room. Very similar to when the bulb burst above them and sent him into a spiral. Outwardly though, he seems to be saving face. 

Urgently, Nines continues, “Malcolm. You will not leave this building alive. Do you understand me? Let the human go.”

This only seems to anger the android further. He wiggles his grip on the gun, baring his teeth in a nasty snarl. “Put down your weapon, or I put a bullet in his skull.”

Gavin’s heart is racing. Fingers digging into the android’s forearm. Gritting his teeth. 

“Nines. Don’t-”

There’s a sharp pinch at his throat that cuts off his voice. Malcolm tightens his arm around his neck to restrict his air flow. Gavin nearly chokes. 

“Or maybe I’ll just crush his windpipe,” the android considers threateningly. Words sharp and pointed. “They’re fragile enough. I could snap his neck like a toothpick.”

Gavin can’t breathe past a small wheeze. The pressure on his throat is mounting and his lungs struggle to expand in his chest. Nines watches him squirm, LED cycling an unsteady yellow. 

Finally, he straightens and touches a finger to his temple. 

“All units stand down.”

Nines then unclips the magazine from his pistol and tosses it. “There are officers northside and to the east. You’ll have a better chance of escape if you leave through the courtyard, but there are drones scouting the perimeter overhead. I can disable them, but you’ll have to let him go first.” He throws the empty nine millimeter in the opposite direction. It clatters off in the distance. Malcolm loosens his hold just a touch, enough for Gavin to rasp in a much needed breath. He pants, oxygen returning to his extremities. The LM100 doesn’t seem convinced.

Nines raises his hands in good faith.

“I’ll take you to the edge of the city. I can even get you across the border. Safely and unharmed.”

Malcolm glares at him precariously. “Maybe I should just kill you both,” he considers. Nines merely shrugs. 

“Shooting me will deploy a distress signal,” he forewarns. Gavin knows he’s bluffing, he can see it in his eyes. “You’ll be surrounded before you can leave the building. And shooting him?”

The PI’s expression darkens, his tone is downright menacing. 

“You won’t survive what I do to you.”

Nines lowers his hands. Eyes like daggers. Body rigid like he’s ready to pounce. “So, make your choice.”

Tension hangs in the air, thick like molasses. Gavin can feel the cogs working behind the figure which holds the gun to his head. Remembering the last time he was seated at the business end of the barrel. He closed his eyes that day. Withdrew what he thought was his final breath. 

Not this time. He looks at Nines and holds himself steady. Preparing himself for whatever the outcome may be, thinking: at least he’s got a better view this time.

Wordlessly, the android shoves him forward. 

He’s decided. 

Gavin nearly stumbles. The action only irks him. He throws a hard scowl over his shoulder, soothing his neck.

This is one of those instances where he knows he should keep his mouth shut, but Gavin’s always been a short fuse. He makes the mistake of muttering under his breath. A statement ingrained in his brain from years of built up resentment and unbroken habit

“Fuckin’ androids-”

His eyes have just enough time to find Nines. His gaze only holds for a millisecond. Behind him, Malcolm raises his gun again.

Two things happen before Gavin can even register the fact that he’s being flown across the room. First: Nines moves. One hand takes Gavin by the vest and yanks him forward- his other rips the backup piece out from where Gavin has it tucked away behind his back. The second, is that shit goes completely sideways and gun fire explodes around him.

For Nines, it’s a quick pulse. Solid blue grid. He calculates the trajectory of Malcolm’s aim to the back of Gavin’s skull and throws three punches at the wall. 

Crack.

Bust.

Shatter.

It ruptures and falls like broken glass, his world is now screaming in technicolor. He executes his predetermined response flawlessly.

There is no room for error.

Gavin hits the floor so hard it dazes him. That’s collateral. Meanwhile, Nines has his target on lock and hits him with a head shot- dead center of the forehead while simultaneously catching a bullet in the opposite shoulder. Two more shots are fired from across the room- busting the side panel of Malcolm’s cranial cap and dropping him like cinderblocks.

Nines stares at the body, with smoke still lingering from Gavin’s backup conceal. Frozen like a statue and blinking red.

Connor stands in the doorway. He lowers his gun, having shot on instinct rather than command. His doe eyes dart between the human strewn across the floor and the android still standing motionless in place. Unsure as to who he should to run to first but quickly decides that Gavin’s state made him more of a priority before rushing to his side.

The detective groans, he’d smacked his head on the way down. The pain reverberates through the entirety of his skull. Connor kneels and helps him stand.

“Are you okay?”

He’s slow to rise, supported by Connor’s steadying grip.

“Got my shit rocked,” he slurs, blinking past the blurry vision. He shrugs Connor off, settling on shaky legs. “I’m good, man. Holy fuck.” It’s more a statement of bewilderment. Like he can’t believe he’s still standing as the adrenaline ebbs. He’d felt the bullet whizz past his head. His trembling hand finds his temple, searching for blood but he is left untouched.

Save for the cuts and scrapes he’ll find in the morning. Minor bruises he’ll ignore in the passing days, some he’ll choose to remember. Nothing he’s worried about right now, not when his brain violently replays the last sixty seconds on triple speed behind his very eyes.

Gavin whips around in an effort to find Nines. Battling vertigo and a surge of pain in his head. He finds the PI digging that bullet out of his shoulder. Still solid, blazing red. 

“Officer Anderson, call this in,” he commands, inspecting the casing he rips from his wound. It glistens with blue blood in the dim, tangerine light. Nines sets his jaw, body thrumming with newfound feeling. 

“Already done,” Connor reports pensively, eyeing the other android carefully. 

“Excellent,” Nines tosses the bullet with a grimace and a vehement underhanded throw. It pings off of scrap metal in the distance. Having nicked a few vessels but nothing important. Cobalt stains his black shirt in a minor patch as a result of this. He’ll worry about it later, feeling much too scattered after the recent chain of events to even consider the state of his physical well being. 

With no pop up anomalies or system warnings, he decides to put it on the back burner. 

Gavin still makes an attempt to approach him worriedly. 

“Hey, are you-?”

Nines doesn’t know how else to respond, how else to process what’s going on inside his head, so he channels it into something vaguely familiar and cuts Gavin off with a hard scowl. One that speaks for itself.

“At ease, Detective. Your work here is done,” he growls. The human stops completely, stunned into silence. Nines stalks off before he can submit to the number of intrusive thoughts circling his mind. 

Grab him. 

Hold him.  

Never let go.  

Leaving both officers reeling in his wake. One at a complete loss and the other knowingly silent as he moves past the doorway and disappears in darkness. 

Wires in knots. Software in shambles. 

Flickering uneasy yellow light. 

 

---

 

About a dozen cars are convened outside. A couple squad vans and unmarked vehicles with their flashing lights strobing in the courtyard. Along with the coroner and a few news reporters. Their respective headlights lit up the scene where multiple bodies were gathered. Some in clusters of three to four and a few stragglers. The energy was abuzz still with the residual high of the sweep. Nines keeps his distance from the crowd. Wrought with unease and subtle longing as he stares from across the lot. Gavin’s being examined by a paramedic. Common protocol. Still, Nines feels a strange ache in his chest that calls for him to close the gap between them. 

He doesn’t get the chance to move, not yet. A familiar figure finds him lingering in the shadows. hands clasped behind his back. Much to his own dismay. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, shifting his gaze to Captain Blaine. The older man offers him a halfhearted grin. Crunching gravel in route with his militant saunter.

Cancer hasn’t killed him yet and he’s not going to quit just because of it.

“I take it you had a rough night?” He humors. A rosy flush to his deep complexion and puffs past his full lips that are lost to the glacial atmosphere around them.

Nines can’t feel it, but he knows it’s below freezing by now. His gaze is lost to the distance.

“I had to put down our suspect,” he says. It’s not the first time he’s done it. Surely it won’t be the last. Still, it disappoints him. It feels too much like failure. 

“You’ll have that sometimes,” Blaine solemnly reassures. He’s in a long, heavy coat. Uniform cap over his salt and pepper high and tight. He takes a stand beside Nines. Pin straight, scanning over the lot with his characteristic sovereign gaze. “You keep trying to branch off on your own, but this was a team effort.”

His tone suggests displeasure. Nines simmers.

“I don’t need your analysis, Captain. I already know where I failed.”

“Don’t look at it as failure,” Blaine parries. “Think of it as an opportunity to grow. You were doing so well. What happened?”

What happened? The question echoes in his mind. Gavin Reed, that’s what happened, he thinks. Summarizing it cynically.

“I was distracted.”

“Well, stop it. We don’t have room for that in this line of work.”

Nines interjects. “Respectfully, sir, we’ve had this conversation already. We keep having it. You know where I stand.”

“And you know that shit’s changing,” Blaine rebuttals. “You’re gonna have to learn how to work well with others if you wanna keep doing what you do.” It comes from a place of worry. Nines knows this. After everything he’s been through and all the trials Captain Blaine has seen him through, he knows the older man is only looking out for him. But his tone airs on condescending. Something Nines won’t tolerate. He’s not the captain's son and he hasn’t earned his place amongst the force. 

“I’m sure there will continue to be exceptions,” he relays, brandishing that line like a blade.

Unbeknownst to the stony droid, he’s got it all wrong.

Captain Blaine just wants him to succeed. Even if that means simply seeing him become more human than machine.

“Nines..” He starts, ready to start on that tirade, but it falls on deaf ears.

“I no longer wish to speak on the matter.”

Instead of arguing, Blaine simply looks at Nines incredulously. “Hey, what the hell happened in there? I’ve never seen you rattled before.” He takes a closer look, showing more concern over the apparent dark spot on the android’s shoulder. His eyes jump up in surprise. 

“Were you shot?”

Nothing. Just a red light and a cinched jaw in response. One thing Blaine has hardly ever seen from the android- the LED that is, given that Nines is often able to mask his mood with a few physical ticks. 

“Nines?”

Finally, the PI shakes his head, and sends Blaine another look of chiding discontent. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be resting.”

The older man speaks more firmly. “Nines.”

This time he scowls. “Go home, Richard. Before I call Janice,” Nines leaves him at that, marching off without another word. 

On the opposite end of the courtyard, Gavin is nearly pummeled. Having been cleared by a human EMT, he is quickly encased in a strong hold that comes out of nowhere.

“You scared the fuckin’ shit outta me,” Hank says, his arms wrapped around the younger man, grip like a vice. Gavin’s stiff as a board in his arms and completely astounded.

He shoves him away. “Easy, ol’ man. People are gonna think that you actually give a shit.”

Hank glowers. “Fuck you, Reed. Connor told me it was close.” His blue eyes are searing and equally as serious. Gavin’s immediate response is to disconnect himself from the older man entirely by adding distance. 

He steps back. “We had it under control,” the younger man argues. Lit up by red and blue lights, sans coat and gloves given the physical inspection from medical personnel, but Hank’s not at all enthralled with this display as he sends him a hard glare.

“Oh, sure. That’s why we’ve had shots fired and a dead suspect,” he snaps back.

“Hank,” Gavin glares. 

Nines comes out of nowhere, headstrong and on a mission.

“Lieutenant Anderson-”

The older man greets this presence respectfully, shaking his hand. “Nines, how’re you doin’? Connor told me-”

He’s quickly interjected with a smart remark. “I’m fine. I’m here to see to it that Detective Reed makes it back to his car in one piece,” the PI so formally declares with a flare of cross bitten entitlement. Flashing the younger detective a hard look of command, even as he still holds the lieutenant’s hand.

“Start walking,” he says. Like Reed’s at his beck and call, like he calls all the shots.

Gavin rolls his eyes. Remembering the attitude he was faced with earlier. He’s still struggling to understand it. “Man, I don’t need an escort-” He tries to snap, and is shortly undercut by a sharpened tone.

“I said: walk.” Nines is blaring red. Hard opal eyes slice through the night like sharpened swords. Gavin clamps his mouth shut and Nines seems to surprise himself. Finding his composure quickly, then clears his throat. Gaze off in the distance between the two men before him, hands back behind his back in a default stance, “Excuse me,” he says. “It’s been a rather.. Difficult night.”

Hank shoots Reed a look like, what the fuck did you do? Before he crosses his arms.

“We’ll discuss this later,” he tells the younger man, before he steps away. Likely with the intentions of reuniting with Connor, and rightfully so. Gavin has no place on his list of priorities, at least that’s how he figures. So, he moves only because his brain short circuits and he has no idea how else to respond. Knowing he should stick around to give his statement, but off handedly thinks that it can wait until morning when he’s fresh off the adrenaline high and thinking more distinctly.

Nines isn't letting up either, despite the long trek it takes back to his car given the fact that he had parked a ways away with the rest of the arriving crew. Gavin leads, practically steaming. Shaking his head as he marches along, he turns around with a quiplash on his sharpened tongue. One Nines is sure to ignore as he snags the smaller man by the strap of his kevlar. 

“Keep moving,” he demands, all but throwing him forward.

Gavin’s got a fire under his ass with this kind of treatment. He shuffles, fumbling over miscalculated steps given the harsh treatment.

“I told you, I don’t need a goddamn escort,” he hisses. They’re far enough away by now that the police lights of the responding squad vehicles only luminates in the distance. They are otherwise in solitude.

Nines chides, “could’ve fooled me. I can’t even trust you not to run your foul mouth off. He was going to let you go.”

“Man, fuck you,” Reed growls. Nines shoves him along again, using his strength to his advantage. 

“I mean seriously, Gavin, this obsession of yours has to stop.”

“Obsession!?” The smaller man snaps. Pivoting as he walks, turning as he goes. Never once breaking stride as they continue on through a weathered lot. Kicking up rocks in his wake. Nines nearly bursts. Their conversation cuts through the dark with sharp pointed words and heavy exclamations.

“Yes! You’re a brilliant detective when you’re not chasing oblivion. But your Achilles heel is your lack of impulse control. What you fail to realize is, one of these days, that is going to get you killed!”

“Don’t act like you give a shit about me, Mr. Fuckin’ Superior. You’ve made it clear from day one that I’m nothing but a fuckin’ inconvenience to you,” Gavin turns again, shaking his head sullenly as he faces the front. At his wits end and his fighting spirit slowly ebbing away. “And, I dunno,” he carries on, “maybe I’m just a fuckin’ idiot- because I keep thinking that we’re starting to get along. That you might actually-”

He comes to an abrupt pause. Standing in the cold. It stings on his cheeks. Paints them rosy red beneath the heavy blanket of nightfall. He can see his reflection in his tinted car window. Murky and distorted. He physically deflates and bows his head. 

“Nevermind. It’s fuckin’ stupid.”

“Gavin.”

“Look. We got the bad guy. You’ve walked me to my car. Mission accomplished, right?” Gavin pats his pockets for his keys, unable to face the other man as he struggles through another goodbye. It should be easy this time. There’s nothing between them. 

Right?

So, it shouldn’t feel like he’s losing something- he can’t lose what he’s never had. 

Nines stops and pauses. Gavin is just out of reach. 

“Maybe you are a fucking idiot.”

Gavin could almost laugh. He finds his keys tucked away in the inner lining of his pants.

He chuckles unsteadily instead. Breathy and disbelieving. 

“What did you say?”

“I said.” Footsteps. They stop right behind him. Gavin can feel a rush of warmth that follows. It elicits pinpricks of gooseflesh across the expanse of his skin. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Gavin whips around, ready to ask what his fucking problem is and why the fuck he’s being so shitty all of the sudden when he stops dead. Heart caught up in his throat. Nines is close. Closer than Gavin was expecting him to be. Staring down with those half mooned eyes. Radiating a suspenseful sort of energy that daringly palpitates between them. 

“So..” His voice is now quiet. Quiet as the night. Barely even a whisper and deep like velvet. “Are we going to?”

Gavin’s mind goes completely blank. He blinks, hanging on a tight rope. 

“Are we-? What?”

His brain all but trips over itself in an effort to catch up. Flashing back to only hours ago when Tina deliriously asked: 

“Are you two gonna kiss?”

Surely that’s not-

Is it?

Are they?

His heart is beating fast. Gavin’s almost afraid it might burst out of his chest. What he’s about to do next is a serious fucking gamble. One that could cost him his head if he’s not careful. 

But he’s all for taking chances. For risking it all. Gavin swallows thickly, Nines is a stone in the moonlight. 

Fuck it. 

He lunges.

Notes:

*Evil, maniacal laughter*

Fasten your seatbelts. It's about to get WET

Chapter 10: Window Fog

Notes:

Did I meticulously plan this out so that I could upload THIS chapter on my birthday?? (special shout out to my Cancer friends!)

Maybe not from the very beginning, but I was definitely thinking about it these last few chapters xD

Small TW: for a minor description of blood

Enjoy!! ;)

“So.. Are we going to?”

Gavin leaves no room for second guessing. Not when he’s been pining for this long already, not when Nines is glowing in the moonlight. Looking down at him with those half lidded starry eyes. Beckoning him with their siren call. 

He closes that gap and dives in head first. Taking Nines by the face. Both hands cradle his jaw, fingers in his hair. It’s surprisingly soft. 

But it’s not near as soft as those pouty lips, he comes to find. Pulling them into a fiery kiss. One that’s met in a whirlwind of reciprocation as those strong arms coil around his waist like snakes. They bring him in flush, so that they’re standing chest to chest. Gavin on the balls of his feet, Nines bent to meet him halfway. Lips melded seamlessly together. Gavin could just about explode. Thinking nothing’s ever felt this right as he pours everything he’s got into this kiss. Having dreamt of this moment in a thousand different scenarios. Wondering what it would feel like, how Nines would taste. 

He’s warm and almost flavorless. That is not unwelcome. It’s enticing. Like there’s more discoveries to be made as he lets their embrace deepen just a touch. Unwilling to part as he tries desperately to soak up every last bit of what this android’s willing to give. He only shifts to slot their lips together more comfortably. Letting the tension ebb from his bones, to melt against the other man while the rest of the world slowly fades away. 

Nines holds him tighter. As if he might otherwise be forced to let go. Sensors nearly set ablaze upon first contact. His pump having shot up in his chest. Gavin feels like liberation pressed up against him like this. Their kiss rings of freedom. 

A funny thought to have considering nobody’s ever owned him. His activation was post revolution, so technically he’s always been free. More so just a prisoner of his own software. Gavin loosened those chains. Hell, he practically smashed the padlock. With his stubborn charms and his stolen glances. As if Nines could pretend he didn’t notice the way the smaller man’s been looking at him lately. 

He shifts his lips. They part in a wet smack. Gavin doesn’t even realize that their breath is mingling- that Nines is breathing at all- but it’s all he can do in an effort to steady himself. Combatting his body’s mechanical need to kick on the fans. Meanwhile, Gavin is trembling. 

Nines pulls back just a touch- just a mere breath away. 

“Are you cold?” He muses quietly. Holding him tighter as if to shield him from Michigan’s glacial fall. Gavin shakes his head. 

It’s close to freezing outside, and he forgot his coat back at the scene, but he doesn’t feel cold. If anything, he’s warmer than he’s ever been in his entire life. 

“‘M okay,” Gavin says in a quiet murmur. His eyes are still closed, still braced on his toes. Practically chasing the other man. Nines kisses him again. It’s what Gavin’s been searching for. 

It’s Soft. Sweet. 

Then it melts. Hot. Breathy. 

And they fall apart. Inhibitions be damned. 

Nines walks him back with a sudden urge to have the smaller man wedged, throwing him up against the car door. It steals the breath out of his lungs in a sharp gasp. One that Nines quickly swallows. Feverishly searching for more with each greedy kiss that he places. Gavin can’t seem to help himself either. Already half hard in his pants and hot under the collar. It’s been so long- a lifetime it seems- since anyone’s kissed him like this. So urgently and so full of need. It breaks as the android noses his way under the smaller man’s chin and presses his lips to his pulse. Feeling it flutter, hearing Gavin’s breath catch again as his touch lingers. Past the edge of his heavy kevlar, tracing the leather strap of his belt-

Gavin bites back a swear and fumbles for the door. Struggling to find the latch. Nines does so without a hitch, and seamlessly opens it. Dragging Gavin along just to shove him inside. Where the shorter man lands and slides himself back across the bench to make some room. Nines smoothly enters and shuts the door behind him. 

The silence is deafening. They are face to face once more, mere inches apart. Panting in darkness. Nines is a solid yellow. Gavin is thrumming beneath the skin. He moves with shaking hands, finding the straps of his kevlar to start shedding it, thinking maybe he’ll breathe better without the added constriction. Nines moves just the same, but he reaches lower and tackles the straps of his empty thigh holster.

Gavin wants to help him with it, but he’s doing well enough just to get his vest off. The velcro creates a loud tearing sound that cuts through the silence of the cab. He shrugs it off, finding relief that comes with the action and handles his own holster next. Each tossing their discarded gear into the front seat. Heavy thuds follow and then nothing but the sound of their quiet breathing. 

Blue eyes on grey. Gavin doesn’t give him the chance to hesitate or overthink what’s about to happen. He closes the gap and kisses the android in another fervid embrace. Taking the PI’s face in his hands once more. Dragging his teeth over Nines’ bottom lip. Feeling the stroke of curious fingertips as Nines reaches similarly, cupping the back of Gavin’s skull. Kissing him much less urgently but still very tentatively. Like he’s on a personal expedition to discover every crease and curve of Gavin’s lips. Weaving his long fingers through short brunette locks. His other hand glides across the expanse of Gavin’s torso. Appreciating the planes of his abdominal muscles and the swell of his pecs. 

It’s dizzying. Intoxicating.

Gavin needs more. 

He kisses him harder, messier. The android must understand his intentions, because he responds with an encouraging flick of his tongue between Gavin’s lips. Shifting forward on the seat like he’s trying to get the upper hand, but Gavin sighs into a breathy laugh. He can’t help it. 

“You tryin’ to get a sample or somethin’?”

It’s teasing and his voice is muddled thick. Nines pulls back with a spinning ring light. Eyes dark and heavy lidded. Gavin almost feels like he must’ve said the wrong thing. 

But then their lips crash again, tongue past his teeth. It’s a little rough in texture. Only a subtle difference, but Gavin can feel it as it drags along the roof of his mouth. An action that elicits a quiet groan from deep within his chest. 

Meanwhile, Nines is lit up with an influx of data. All of which he promptly files away for further exploration later when all is said and done. Too caught up in the noises Gavin’s making to do a full deep dive into the inner workings of his chemical make up. But he wants to. He wants to know everything. Every last drop. Every last inch. 

He takes that hand in Gavin’s hair and makes a fist, jerking his head back. Earning another gasp. 

Oh fuck. 

Nines sinks his teeth into his neck. Drags his tongue over the mark left behind. Tasting the residual sweat still clinging to Gavin’s skin- sampling it- before he shoves him. Gavin nearly falls against the door, eyes wide. Another hand grabs him by the back of the knee and yanks him down. 

Oh fuck. 

He nearly smacks his head. He doesn’t care. Nines is above him, on him. One hand braced on the door to bear the brunt of his weight. He dips down and their lips are entangled once more. Before Gavin can even register their position, he is clawing at him. Fisting eager hands in his shirt, curling a leg up around his waist. He makes a huff against the other man’s chin trying to rip the fabric from where it’s tucked away in his pants. Something Nines tries to assist with, even going so far as to unbuckle his own belt. 

“Oh fuck..” Gavin breathes audibly this time. Breaking away from their kiss as he finds the edge of Nines’ waistline, searching for the button-

A hand grabs his wrist, firmly. Nines is cycling red. His eyes shut tight. Gavin’s heart is pounding. 

“You okay?”

Such a simple question. 

One Nines doesn’t know how to answer. Despite his lack of experience, he knows where this is going. What Gavin’s searching for. He’ll find it, but in past circumstances of self-exploration, Nines has come up disappointed every time. 

He’s never felt pleasure. Maybe he wasn’t designed to experience it. Given the hardware he was equipped with, Nines has always wondered why this was. 

Perhaps he’s just not finished. 

Shakily, he sighs. He wants this. He wants Gavin to feel good, he wants to explore this part of humanity despite having turned his nose up at it for so long. 

And everything has been good so far. He could feel the sparks beneath his plastic panels. The start of something stirring in his gut. So, maybe- just maybe- it’ll be different this time. He might even feel-

“Nines?”

He takes that hand and brings it to his lips. Kissing Gavin’s open palm. Lavishing it as the smaller man stares up at him in awe. Itching to touch and kiss and grope. Nines releases him, his own hand easing lower and lower. He unbuckles Gavin’s belt with a skillful hand. Coordination that comes with being a highly advanced machine with inhuman dexterity. Gavin’s heart rate has spiked and his internal temperature rises ever slightly. Indicating his anticipation as Nines slowly dips past the waistline of his jeans.

They’re practically falling off the backseat bench. Gavin’s got a locking clip for the seatbelt pressed into his back just below the rib and his head resting uncomfortably against the door. Nines is crouched, one knee between the detective’s legs. One hand still braced on the same door, the other-

Gavin sighs. Eyes rolling back as the android cups his dick in his palm. Over the boxers. Gavin bites his lip.

It’s been a while. Too fucking long.

Nines watches every move he makes, savors every little twitch and shudder. Adding pressure with the heel of his palm. Gavin feels good. Really good. The length of him is hot and thick and growing against his touch. His chest rattles on a shaky exhale. 

Gavin practically ruts up into the PI’s hand, an iron grip on his wrist in a desperate attempt to find more friction. 

Then huffs.

“Fuck, get up-” he orders and shoves Nines back by the chest. The android blinks like he’s confused. He pulls his hand away and crawls backwards, flickering unsteady yellow in the dark depths of the cabin space. Gavin sits up enough, thinking fuck these boots as he tugs them off and throws them into the floorboard. Fuck these pants as he struggles to push them down over his straining erection. Nines assists with this. Eagerly. With both hands coiled in denim fabric, yanking it down past the other man’s knees before Gavin can fully shed them. Taking the android by the back of the skull to bring him back down for another heated kiss. One that’s wet and mixed with tongue and teeth. Both relishing in this newfound closeness as Nines drags his hands over Gavin’s bare thighs. He grabs them, damn near slides them out from under the human to once more get him on his back. Gavin falls with another gasp. Hot to the touch, full mast between his legs.  

Nines crawls back over him, their kiss is dirty. It’s slippery with spit and the leather creeks beneath them as they writhe, searching for purchase in each other as the tension builds. He’s got Reed all spread out. Cock aching- begging for attention. His shirt riding up in the dark, Nines follows it. Reaching beneath the heavy thermal for a feel of real skin underneath. Finding sparse hair and hard muscle. Palm gliding higher to discover the edge of something ridged. Something that makes Gavin’s stomach flutter on a broken exhale. It’s-

It’s a scar. It’s the scar. The one Nines has thought about relentlessly since he’d first learned about it, mapping it out in his head as he deftly traces with his fingertips. But it’s vulnerable, at least seemingly so. Reed gently takes his hand and shifts it to the side, so his palm can rest over Gavin’s sternum instead. Where his heart is drumming away beneath his careful touch.

It’s an issue Nines won’t press. He understands vulnerability despite his cold nature. With a laundry list of his own insecurities that spans about a mile wide. A thought that makes him feel closer to Gavin somehow, like maybe they’re not so different after all.

He soothes him with a deeper kiss, one unbreaking as his palm remains over Gavin’s heart and they mindlessly rock against each other. An action that stirs something deep in his gut, something he’s not quite felt before. It’s warm. Aching. Nines drops his jaw. Mouth slightly ajar against Gavin’s as realization hits him like an open palm.

He’s got a fervent need suddenly to rut and grind. Gavin moans, deep and sultry. He can feel it too, pressed tight against his upper thigh.

“There you are,” he purrs, smirking between them. Nines can feel it on his lips. In a heated rush, he snares them with his own and fumbles with his own pants. It’s all the permission Gavin needs, like a kid in the candy shop. It’s his turn to explore. Fiendishly helping to shove the fabric as low as he can. Past those narrow hips, over the swell of that perfect ass. Curious to find a pair of compression shorts underneath but snags the elastic with his thumbs and pushes them along. Wanting to feel every inch of him. Gavin finds nothing but smooth, downy soft skin. His touch lingers south, gratuitously groping the android’s taunt backside and then hurriedly ventures northward, under the shirt. His back ripples with faux muscles that feel entirely too real. Like Cyberlife spared no expense.

The weight between them is no joke either. Gavin’s-

He’s a little intimidated.

Nines has practically fallen out of his shorts. Hot and heavy. His dick rests right over Gavin’s in the crease of his leg. It’s not obnoxious, but it's definitely above average. Gavin may still have some girth on him, but length?

Nines has him beat and he’s not even a little embarrassed about it. 

Reed lets his head fall back against the door with a contented sigh. He wants to watch the PI’s expression when he strokes him for the first time. Teasing with a featherlight touch at first, rubbing a single knuckle over the gentle plain of his tummy, over the delicate hair that trails from his navel- an amusing feature- and follows it down. All the way to his pubic bone where he finds a thicker patch. Neatly kept and the skin beneath growing hotter the closer he gets to his intended prize. Nines watches him with a lustful gaze peering down. His pretty lips parted as Gavin slowly traces a vein along the underside of his cock. A corner smile on the smaller man’s face as those heavy lashes flutter. 

Sensitive, Gavin thinks. Wondering if he’s ever been touched like this- if he’s ever touched himself- before he fully strokes the android. Earning a deep seated groan that nearly shakes his lissome frame. Gavin graciously pumps again, not missing a single beat. From base to root, then back up to tease the slit with his thumb.

Nines growls this time and grabs him by the boxers.

“Take these off,” he demands. Fanning more flames in Reed’s gut with that ravenous glint. The human flushes under the cloak of darkness. Lit up only by the moon peering in through the window fog. It gleams in his slate colored eyes, shining with burning want and desire.

But something sticks out in his mind, a blaring neon sign that screams and berates him. He’d cleaned his car out a few weeks ago and he hasn’t been laid in months, so he threw out his glovebox stash of condoms and-

He runs a hand through his hair, kicking himself over and over. “Fuck.. I don’t have any lube-”

Nines yanks at his briefs, damn near pulling Gavin down the bench along with them.

“We don’t need it.”

Gavin scrambles for a second and looks at him humorlessly.

“The fuck we don't-”

Another yank and he’s bare. Gavin’s brain sort of short circuits and his mind goes blank as Nines dips back in, sealing his lips over that same spot on his neck. At the junction of his jaw, sucking another bruise into the flesh while one hand glides up the expanse of his thigh. Kneading the muscle higher and higher while his lips work some kind of dark magic on his throat. Reed tilts his head back to allow more access, parts his knees willingly. Labored breaths escaping him, heat building in his core to combat the frigid air seeping in from the outside world. A long forgotten realm. Even as the wind gently rocks the car.

“I mean, fuck, we can try,” Gavin sighs. He’s still in a shirt, but his clothes are otherwise strewn about the car. Nines has his pants down, humming with intrigue as he coaxes Gavin to shift. Guiding him back down on the bench seat. Kissing him in quick pecks, over his lips, his stubbled chin. Nipping along the way before he stops. Gavin watches, through heavy lashes as Nines inserts two fingers into his own mouth. He coats them generously with his fake saliva. The substance itself is thicker and more slippery than a human’s, making it ideal for his intended purpose. 

“Holy shit,” Gavin sighs. His dick twitches. “Nines, that’s really fuckin’ hot.”

The android removes his fingers with a quick slurp. Staring hungrily at the human beneath him. He simply goes for it, something Gavin’s a little unprepared for but quickly eases into as Nines proceeds to slip a hand between his legs, teasing with the pad of his finger. Pressing in-

Gavin’s never been a natural bottom, it takes him a minute to get into the headspace and some of the tops he’s been with in the past were less than patient with this part of things. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy it- he does. The stars just have to align, and the guy has to actually give a shit about foreplay and prep work, but Gavin’s always had shit taste in men so that’s been few and far between. Part of him is just expecting discomfort because of this that he’ll deal with- as he usually does, especially since it’s Nines. 

But it’s different this time because the stars- they’re aligned. And Nines- despite his earlier urgency, is doing a damn good job of distracting him with soothing sweet kisses over his lips and taking his time to pull and stretch. Adding more spit as he needs it. Hotly too, because he doesn’t seem all that willing to break their kiss. He simply wets his fingers in between, letting their spit mingle. Letting Gavin taste himself as they continue to rut against each other. It works him into a tizzy, until he’s practically keening for more. Body wet with sweat, cock leaking, but Nines doesn’t stop until he’s worked in a third finger and then he generously coats his own dick. Drool glistening on his lips and chin. Gavin ingrains the image into memory. Something he’ll revisit later when he plays it all back. 

There’s baited breath and a beat of apprehension as Nines lines himself up. Sliding a hand up under Gavin’s hips for a better angle, arm hooked under a knee. Laying flush against him as he presses forward, face buried in Gavin’s neck. Dotting love bites and doting little nips across his skin. Gavin sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, forcing himself to relax as he slowly takes inch after formidable inch. Thinking the worst of it’s over past the head, but it just keeps going.  

Finally he huffs in a strenuous breath. Challenging.

“That it?”  

Nines inhales the residual scent of factory musk still lingering on Gavin’s skin and laughs-

He laughs. 

Then pulls back with a torrid gaze. 

He wants to watch the grimace Gavin makes when he takes his cock in full. Wants to soak up the sound of his sharp breaths and wallor in the pathetic little noises he makes as it’s sheathed. 

Nines caresses his thigh, gives him a gentle squeeze, then pushes forward all the way. Buzzing beneath the plates. Wires tingling. Thinking he’s too tight in the best fucking way, but still minorly concerned as Gavin takes a few much needed breaths in an effort to push himself through. 

“You gotta move,” Reed says finally. He sounds fucked out already. Nines dips back down and rocks his hips, it’s all the encouragement he needs. Slow at first and a little clumsy. Gavin digs a heel into the back of his thigh, one hand over the base of his skull. Panting against the shell of his ear, walls fluttering around him hot, wet and pillow soft. 

It shouldn’t feel this good, Nines thinks. Nothing should ever feel this good and yet he’s practically falling apart with deeper thrusts. Stoking a fire in his groin, all the way to the tip of his dick. He sighs, shaky and unstable. Meanwhile, Gavin’s a complete mess of moans and short cut swears. 

He gets a hand between them and strokes his own needy cock while Nines finds a more steady rhythm. Beating against the other man feverishly. He shifts closer, driving in further. Gavin moans. 

“Holy shit- holy fuck-“ it’s so deep. His breathless voice cuts out as Nines drags his teeth over his skin again. Humorously, Gavin thinks, he’s a fucking biter and that just makes so much sense. 

Gavin’s not a biter, but he loves filthy kisses. He likes being tongued down proper while he’s fucking or being fucked. He likes it sloppy and wet sounding and dirty little noises in between. So, he turns his head. Nines lifts his, it seems to click that they should kiss. Their lips crash. Gavin still has a hand on the back of Nines’ skull and he curls his fist into his synthetic hair. Sucking his top lip as he moans, still stroking his own dick while Nines shifts again. Kneeling on the seat with Gavin’s ass pulled up into his lap. Teasing with his tongue. Squeezing his thighs. Channeling all that pent up energy behind his hips- his strong, stupid hips that Gavin’s been drooling over since the fucking bike ride.

He groans, thinking it must be pretty obvious what’s going on from outside. He can feel the car shake and sway and the windows are practically dripping with condensation. It’s an empty lot and hopefully it stays that way.

Though a more perverse thought bleeds into his mind, thinking he wouldn’t be all that bothered if somebody did walk by. After all, he’s got probably the most ethereal being to ever exist in his backseat, railing him senseless. That’s bragging rights if he ever had them, and while he’s not just going to openly broadcast that to the entire world- because a more selfish part of him wants this all to himself- the thought makes him weirdly horny and eggs him on even further as he continues to whine. Fully laxed and willing as Nines fucks him harder. 

Silently Nines curses. Hips faltering. Gavin clenches and it’s so good. 

It’s too good. That catch is on the tip of his dick before he can stop it, sending crashing waves of euphoria all throughout the android’s system. He shuts his eyes and rolls his hips through it. Clamping his jaw, bowing his head. 

Gavin whimpers. He can feel the heat of the android’s sticky release inside him.

“Fuck, did you just come?” He lifts his head hazily, watching as Nines stills. A crease in his brows and his LED cycling red to yellow. 

“Shut up. Give me a second,” he grits.

Gavin sits up and paws at him. “Here, just-”

“Quiet.”

He’s shoved back down with a hand over his mouth. The action goes straight to his hips and Gavin moans, feeling the length inside of him fill out once more. Nines starts to move again, resuming that quick, sharp pace unhindered. Eyes dark and foggy, cool blue at his temple. Gavin hums against his palm, leaves it hot and moist with his breath. Nines lets it fall away, reaches back to brace himself on the door again. His other finding purchase beneath Gavin’s thigh as he hikes it up a touch further. The mixture of his spit and release is sloppy wet and fills the cab with obscene slapping sounds that mingles with Gavin’s quiet breathy sighs.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck-”

Nines says nothing, but every little sensor in his body is absolutely singing with pleasure. He holds the door so tight, it threatens to give under his palm. His nails dig into Gavin’s skin, leaving crescent moons in their wake. He slams his cock deep, angling his hips to stimulate Gavin’s prostate with each and every thrust. Leaving him a breathless, quivering mess. Mouth agape, eyes glassy.

He can feel it. That tortuous strain in the tip of his weeping dick. His stomach flutters, stars dance across his eyes.

“Nines-”

It’s like he’s sixteen again, taking dick for the first time in the back bedroom of some questionable guy’s house- who may have been a little too old to be messing with a teenager, but fuck if it wasn’t hot the way he had Gavin pinned to the mattress, pounding him senseless. It’s the only situation that's comparable to this one. He’s never been able to achieve such an orgasm before or since- not until now. Release. White, hot release. Ripped out from under him. Nines doesn’t stop to soothe him through it. He growls, unrelenting. Watching Gavin writhe and moan and sob. 

It’s a lot- almost too much. 

“Oh, fuck, I need you to come again or something- please. Oh, fuck!”

Nines looms over him with a predatory stare. “I like hearing you beg,” he says hungrily. “Do it again.”

Gavin turns to mush. His body is limp. He lets the android keep his leg in place, and submits completely as he’s roughly fucked into the backseat. 

“Please. Please. Nines-” he chants, bumbling pleas. His head smacks the door one, twice with a couple of sporadic thrusts. It jostles the car and his pathetic whimpering only serves to rile the android further. Finally earning him another deep seated groan that rips through Nines as his hips finally start to stutter again. 

“Oh, fuck me. Please. Yes-!” Gavin throws his head back. Hits the damn door for a third time and practically screams, feeling that heat blossom inside of him one more time. He clenches down, milks it for every last drop. 

Nines locks up and slams his hips home. Pulsating deep as his cock spills. Gavin sighs, a deep and contented sigh that’s pulled from the very center of him. He comes down trembling with tiny aftershocks. Reminiscing quietly to himself. 

“So, is that why they call you Nines?” He asks with a bubble of laughter coming up out of nowhere. Nines flutters, hazy and a little disoriented. 

The question throws him for a moment. He opens his eyes finally. Gavin’s caged between his palms. “I’m called Nines because my model-”

Gavin presses a finger to his lips, silencing him. 

“Shhh.. Hey, hey.” He’s whispering, taking Nine’s by the collar of his shirt to pull him down. “It was a dick joke.”

The android’s temple cycles solid red. 

Reed looks up at him smugly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not-”

Gavin pushes at his chest. 

“Off. Shit’s startin’ to hurt.”

Nines slips out wetly, then backs up unceremoniously. Meanwhile, Gavin drags himself up into a sitting position. The human immediately squirms, then swears as he lunges between the backrests of the front seats. It takes Nines a second to realize he’s reached for the dash, retrieving a wad of napkins. 

He’s got a much better view of the smaller man's ass this way, and he’s ashamed to admit just how much it distracts him.

He wants to fuck it again- what if he did? What if he just snatched this abrasive human by the hips and took what he wanted for a third time?

Settle, he tells himself. 

Gavin comes back with a huff and flops against the backseat. “You need one?”

Nines shakes his head, struggling already to stuff his dick back into his pants. Something enticing about their mixed fluids still drying on his cock. 

“Freak,” Gavin mutters in amusement. He hastily wipes himself off. Nines sits quietly, a little off kilter. His body is hot and humming quietly. 

A warning flashes across his vision suddenly. Low thirium. Nines licks his lips. His mouth is completely dry. 

“Do you have any water?” His voice is quiet. Reed’s midway through pulling his pants back up and he stops, seemingly stumped by this.

“Like to drink?”

Nines nods.

Gavin continues, eyeing him curiously. “Is that safe?”

“It is not ideal, but it'll work.”

“Are you okay?” Gavin realizes as soon as he asks- or more so remembers- Nines was shot. He leans forward suddenly and reaches for the overhead light, the button clicks and illuminates the cab in a yellow glow. One that exposes both of them. Equally disheveled, their clothes loose and wrinkled. Gavin’s cheeks are flushed, his hair is mussed. Glowing with perspiration still tacky on his skin. Nines blinks as if he has to adjust to the light, really he just wasn’t prepared for it. 

Or maybe his system is just lagging. It’s hard to say. 

He’ll take the latter, given the fact that Reed takes one look at him and gasps.

“Nines, holy shit.”

It’s a bigger wet patch than when it started. Nines looks down precariously. 

“Oh.. That’s.. Worse than I thought it was,” he mutters. The bullet must’ve actually nicked something important. A main vessel perhaps, considering the very slow but steady flow of blue blood seeping through the dark cotton fabric of his shirt. Now stained over his chest. Gavin takes great care in pinching the cloth where the bullet tore through to better assess the damage. 

He hisses. Finding the gleam of thick cobalt and a glimpse of white chassis where the skin has receded. He knows androids don’t feel pain, and he knows it’s not necessarily fatal, but it’s a lot of blood. Or at least it appears to be, he’s not exactly an expert. What could be a lot of blood for a human could be nothing to an android.

But Nines seems kind of groggy and heat is coming off of him in waves. Gavin takes him by the chin for further inspection.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Nines hums. His body feels heavy. He might’ve been fine had it not been for their backseat rendezvous. He’s lost more fluids this way and likely overworked himself in the process.

But it was completely worth it, he thinks.

Gavin shakes his head and swears.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say something earlier?” 

The android smirks. “I was preoccupied.”

Reed simply scowls. Chiding himself for not noticing it, for putting his dick first, seeing as Nines is now limp against the back rest, with a goofy smile and a heavy lidded gaze. Cycling red. 

Gavin’s got no clue what he’s smiling at, but he curses those dimples and that look of complete adoration. 

“You have such peculiar eyes,” he murmurs. He sounds tired. That only adds to the urgency as Gavin scoffs and digs in his pocket for his keys. 

“Thanks, casanova. Now what the fuck do I do with you? Are Cyberlife stores still a thing or do I take you to a hospital?”

Nines physically recoils. Voice glitching out. 

“No.”

Gavin looks at him nervously this time. “Nines, you’re freakin’ me the fuck out-”

Silly human. The android blinks slowly and rolls his shoulder. “I have a repair kit at home. Thirium in the fridge,” he mumbles. He just needs something to hold him over. 

But Gavin looks.. A little small. Like he’s still uncertain. Nines reaches with an unsteady hand to stroke his cheek. His touch seems to be only minorly reassuring, but Gavin melts into it regardless. 

“I’m okay,” Nines says again. “Water?” His fans are still running. Without a proper level of thirium, he could overheat. 

He is not going to explain that to Gavin. Not right now at least. 

Reed perks up a little bit, throwing the front seat a glance. “I think I've got that bottle from earlier-”

Hopefully it’s not frozen. 

“Stupendous,” Nines slurs. His hand falls- flops more like- back down into his lap. That’s their queue. Gavin sighs. 

He’s exhausted. His body hurts. 

And he’s worried fuckin’ sick. 

He moves, nudging Nines gently with a plan devised to get him home safely.

Notes:

OooOOOOoohh do I smell a night cap?

After Nines is nursed back to health, of course. Poor guy. What a big night for him.

I also realize the Nines dick joke is not unique or creative, but it cracks me up every time and I had to include it.

Thanks again for reading!! I know so many were looking forward to this ;))

Chapter 11: Vulnerable

Notes:

This one's long and thicc.

Just like Nines' di-

Anyway. TW: brief descriptions of wounds and mild, MILD dubious consent. They're both willing, Gavin's just sleepy

Pls enjoy c:

Turns out Nines lives close to this side of town. A quick hop, skip, and a drive down highway lines. In a taller building made mostly of reinforced concrete and tempered glass. He’s five stories up on the top floor- because of course he is- wedged in the heart of West Village. What used to be a more historical part of Detroit was now a gentrified community. Gavin had rolled his eyes and teased him about that. Nines said he was simply drawn to the waterfront view.

Though, really, Gavin’s not sure what he was expecting, but he’s sure the android’s apartment is going to be neat and spotless and void of anything human as well. All of these thoughts come fondly and even amuse him a little bit. 

He thinks of this as they take the elevator up. Nines has an arm slung over his shoulder and Gavin’s got an arm around his waist to keep him upright. Surely a sight to see if anyone happened to join them on their lift. Considering their state of dress, the fact that Nines is bleeding and lethargic and Gavin’s covered in factory dust and littered with bruises. 

But he could care less. Nines is hot to the touch and visibly struggling to stand without swaying. A product of his joints locking on account of the lack of blood flow. Gavin looks up at him anxiously, holding him tighter. All that really mattered to him in that moment was getting Nines home in one piece. One living, breathing piece. Everything else was secondary.

Finally, the elevator stops, and the door opens with a small chime. Reed gently coaxes the android, guiding him one step at a time. Offering small terms of encouragement.

“Easy, big guy.”

Nines is silent. Too busy counting his breaths with each slow step to think much of anything, but manages to slip his arm away from Gavin as they arrive outside his door. There’s a touchpad beside it that he uses to unlock the apartment via the touch of his unsheathed hand. He practically slaps it, like hitting home base after a hard run and wavers as the deadbolt clicks. Gavin catches him with a hand supporting his lower back, and opens the door with the other. Nudging the taller man inside.

Turns out, he was right. Kind of. It’s a small studio that only looks big because it’s relatively empty. With white walls and accented gray brick. A tiny kitchenette to the right that’s completely bare and a twin bed to the left that’s neatly made. The floor is a dark colored hardwood, decorated with a few area rugs with swirling patterns. 

Gavin spots an armchair by the window. The glass is floor length, similar to the windows he has back home except these take up the entirety of the main wall. The curtains aren’t drawn and the city is aglow outside, softly illuminating the apartment space with glittering phthalo blue and green lights. 

It’s almost serene, Reed thinks. Urging Nines across the floor as he guides him to that chair. It overlooks the view outside, the one Nines claimed to be so drawn to. With the river in the distance behind rows of trees and small buildings, angled just so for a glimpse of downtown.

“Here, sit,” he says. Easing him into the seat. Nines nearly falls back, slumped with a deep sigh. One that further concerns the human, as he knows that androids don’t typically breathe unless they’re too hot and Nines is wafting heat like a furnace. 

Reed doesn’t wait. He moves almost immediately from here. Nines mentioned thirium in the fridge, so that’s where he goes. Navigating in the subtlety of urban night light across the short expanse of the apartment. The kitchen space is almost completely barren except for a single coffee pot by the sink, with the larger appliances seemingly unplugged. Gavin’s not sure why this surprises him, Nines is an android, he doesn't need a kitchen that functions but the coffee pot seems to throw him for a loop. 

It can only suggest that Nines expects company from time to time. Or perhaps it just came with the apartment. Gavin’s not sure, but he wonders this as he opens the fridge. Casting the room in another glow of white light that reflects off the kitchen tiles. He finds neat stacks of thirium packets chilling on the shelves, it’s otherwise empty and pristine. Gavin snags two and kicks the door shut on his way out, finding amusement in the packaging. He’s seen it all sorts of ways. Connor seems to favor the bottles, but these are bags with straws like Capri Suns.

He’d chuckle if he wasn’t so worried. But the humor dies on his tongue as he strides across the apartment once more and returns to Nines- who’s slouched down, eyes shut. Taking more unsteady breaths to cool himself down. It nearly calls for alarm. Gavin makes quick work of stabbing a pouch and passing it, bent to level himself with the android.

“Here,” he murmurs, coaxing the PI gently. Nines merely hums, unable to hold the bag on his own thanks to his depleted strength and the current strain on his system. Gavin’s more than willing to assist. He doesn’t move a single inch, he simply holds the pouch while Nines takes a long, generous drag that nearly drains it all in one go.

It won’t be enough, that much is obvious. But that’s why Gavin brought an extra. He waits for Nines to finish before he opens the second and presents it similarly.

This time, however, Nines seems strong enough to hold it himself. He takes another sip and lowers the bag down to his lap.

“‘Pologize for my broken speech,” he starts off in a soft mutter. Something so unlike his usual pragmatic tenor. Gavin patiently listens despite his current apprehension, awaiting instruction. “I’m.. Having to prioritize which programs I’m running..”

“Just tell me what you need,” Reed tells him. 

Nines reaches back with his good arm and attempts to pull his shirt off. He struggles. “There’s.. A kit in the bathroom. Under the sink,” he says. 

Gavin helps him with the shirt. He takes it by the hem and lifts it up over his head. Finding more ivory skin underneath and dotted freckles over the expanse of him. One on his collar bone. Another below his ribcage. His muscles are defined and delicate. Like a marble sculpture. 

It’s difficult not to stare, Gavin finds himself entranced. Standing over Nines so that the android’s legs are languidly stretched out between his feet. Clutching the fabric as Nines settles back. Looking impossibly long and delectably bare. With those heavy blue eyes and those lips looking pillow soft. 

Such a sight makes him wonder if the past few hours were nothing more than a fever dream. One he conjured up and then somehow convinced himself was real. Gavin breathes, reeling himself back in. 

“Got it,” he says with a small nod. One that’s mindless and dumb. Whether Nines notices this or not goes unsaid. He simply shakes that earlier thirium packet and states, “I’ll need more as well,” in another quiet mutter. Gavin looks at the blue blood smeared down his chest and silently berates himself for being so easily distracted. Especially while Nines is actively bleeding and fighting for his life- literally- to keep himself from overheating or shutting down. 

He curses that pretty face.

“Anything else?”

Nines shakes his head. It’s all the go ahead that Gavin needs. He fetches more thirium first and finds the bathroom easy enough shortly after. He hits the lights and blinks to adjust. It’s small and stark white. He’s so focused on his mission that he doesn’t even realize the large mirror hanging over the sink. But the glint of the glass catches him off guard when he approaches with the intentions of searching the cabinet underneath. Instead, he stops and pauses. 

It’s not often that he’s faced with his own reflection. He tries to avoid it as much as he can- he’s been told he looks just like his father. A man he hardly remembers with the unfortunate displeasure of being unable to forget him either, given that his appearance was often used against him growing up in the heat of verbal punishments and tongue lashings from his mother. Thoughts Gavin likes to repress as far down as they’ll go in an effort to keep his old wounds from splitting back open. 

But it’s hard not to stop and stare this time and maybe even appreciate the sight before him because he looks completely ruined. His neck is covered in hickies and his hair is ruffled and messy. With an after sex glow on his skin that’s lingered despite the stress of tending to Nines. Souvenirs, he thinks. Evidence he didn’t imagine the whole thing after all and that he’s really standing here in Nines’ apartment and they’re-

What are they? What now? He’ll table these questions for a later time. When there’s less important things to worry about, Gavin figures. He dips down and digs under the sink for the repair kit Nines had mentioned. He finds it easy enough, it’s one of the only items stored away down there and he quickly snags it and a few hand towels that are neatly folded as well. Thinking he’ll need something for the blood as he stands and promptly leaves the bathroom. 

Nines has his eyes closed when he returns, resting his head in his hand on the armrest. His LED is still red, something Gavin hates to see as he vastly approaches, setting the acquired items down on the end table and then turns on the lamp on top of it. Nines stirs. Blood has continued to slowly trickle past the wound. Down his chest where parts of his chassis are exposed and gleaming white under the light. Gavin takes a rag and starts to dab, carefully, forgetting the fact that there’s a lack of pain here. 

Still, he furrows his brows. Unable to comprehend how it doesn’t hurt, especially when part of the plate is visibly cracked from where the bullet entered from the junction of his shoulder to his clavicle. Glitching electric blue and seeping still as Gavin wipes away another pulse of blood. 

He curses under his breath. They should have looked at this sooner.

Preoccupied my ass, he thinks. 

Then more amusingly, preoccupied with my ass. 

And then he turns bright red. Surely that’s detectable in the light. Nines doesn’t say anything, but Gavin can feel his eyes. Slowly, the android takes the rag from his hand and softly speaks.  

“I can take it from here, Detective.”

Gavin teases, flashing a small smirk. “Oh, are we back to formalities now?”

Nines shrugs, holding that rag to his own shoulder. 

“I find comfort in formality,” he says. Patting the wound a few more times before he discards the cloth and grabs the kit. He sets it in his lap and pops the little latch on the side. Gavin steps back, watching him carefully. 

“Are you uncomfortable?”

He is granted a sly grin. Those baby blues flicker in the lamp light as they meet his timid gaze. “Not at all.”

They stare at each other and a beat passes. 

Gavin can’t help himself. He leans in and steals a kiss. One that’s equally reciprocated. Nines doesn’t feel so hot anymore, and that’s a comforting thought. It must mean the thirium’s working. 

Gavin, however, blossoms with a warmth that spreads from his chest down to his toes. This does not go unnoticed or unmentioned this time. 

Nines muses quietly pulling back. 

“Let me finish this,” he murmurs. Like he’s got plans when he’s done. Gavin nods, finding himself unable to step away just yet. 

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Nines motions with his head. “There’s a bed. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

Gavin fidgets. “What, like to sleep?” He asks timorously. 

“That would be ideal,” Nines says, plucking a torch-like instrument out of the kit. Gavin can assume that he’s going to cauterize the bleed. Still, he can’t quite comprehend it. 

Not the medical procedure Nines is about to perform on himself, but the fact that he hasn’t been turned away just yet. That his welcome has been extended. There are parts of him that urge him to leave. To walk away. That he’s not the kind of person that anyone wants to wake up next to, that it’ll come with a price later when Nines decides he’s done with him. 

It’s temporary. It’s all temporary. Gavin understands this. But he had a gun to his head earlier and Nines is hurt. 

And they had sex, and Nines said there’s a bed like he wants-

“I just mean, like.. You want me to stay?” His voice is smaller, smaller than he likes for it to be. Losing that usual front of abrasion that often serves as a wall of protection. 

Deep down, he knows he’s digging himself into a deeper hole. He never learns. 

“Yes, Gavin. I would like for you to stay.”

His heart skips a few beats. Gavin hates that sort of vulnerability, but he’s falling. He smiles. 

“Okay..”

He’s still hesitant to walk away, he wants to make sure that Nines is going to be okay if he does. 

So, he lingers. 

This is not ignored either. Nines looks up and stares soft heartedly. 

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” he quietly reassures. Reed bobs his head like he understands and finally forces himself to move. He shuffles across the tiny apartment once more, to the bed set up with the headrest against the accent wall. It’s small. Fitting for someone who likely never uses it. But the comforter looks soft and thick and the pillows appear to be the same. 

He takes off his boots and crawls over the sheets, thinking he’ll be able to combat his exhaustion if he’s above the covers. The apartment is a little chilly after all and he hates to sleep in his jeans. 

But he’s also greatly underestimated just how tired he was. Struggling immediately to keep his eyes open, to remain coherent through the distant noise of that torch blowing and the quiet shuffles after the fact. A product of Nines up and moving around in brief lapses of time as Gavin fades in and out of sleep. Unwilling to submit just yet, he wants-

He is startled by a sudden shift in the mattress. Unbeknownst that nearly forty five minutes has passed and Nines has successfully patched himself up and thrown on a muted grey long sleeve. He shushes the human soothingly and climbs into bed beside him. Limited space requires that they be smushed together. With Nines pulling Gavin against his good side. The human groggily nuzzles in. Head on his chest, Nines stroking his cheek. 

He whispers something. Gavin’s too far gone to hear what he said. Something along the lines of asking if he’d like to get under the covers. But Nines is warm and Gavin curls around him instead. With their legs entwined and their breaths mingling. 

Gavin’s asleep as soon as he’s settled. Nines follows shortly after. Slipping contently into stasis. 

 

---

 

When Nines wakes the first time, it’s just as the sun is beginning to rise. His body automatically rouses like he’s stuck on a timer. Vacantly, he blinks in the orange light of dawn, still fuzzy from his injury, but coherent enough to manage checking his software for any more alerts that might need tending to. His patch job was subpar at best, but he hadn’t lost any more thirium. Still, his levels could use a little more attention. He’ll handle that next time he’s up, thinking he couldn’t possibly tear himself away when Gavin’s still pressed up against him like he was. Sleeping soundly. Arm draped over Nines like he’s some prized teddy bear.

Nines looks down and studies him fondly. Subtle bruises have blossomed over his skin. Some of its damage taken from last night’s raid and others are a product of their backseat tryst. A thought that fans a few rekindling flames the longer Nines stares at them. Shifting his gaze to admire the stubble coming in over the smaller man’s jaw before he can be swept away by the heat of his own desire. Deftly reaching to stroke his chin with the pad of his thumb. He likes Gavin stubbly, he thinks. Blurry thoughts coming to him on a whim. Eyeing the scab he received from shaving yesterday and wondering if it was the product of an unsteady hand or if he just nicked himself in a hurry. 

He delves further and softly traces the scar over his nose with his forefinger this time. Nines would be lying if he said he wasn’t completely infatuated with it. Curious of its origins. He imagines the pursuit of an armed assailant or perhaps a scuffle in which Gavin briefly lost the upper hand. He’s scrappy enough, it makes sense for him to have such markings. 

Chastely, Nines leans in and places a kiss over his lips. Remembering how they felt only hours ago against his very own. Gavin only hums in response. A sleepy little noise to suggest that he’s been stirred. Nines kisses him again. Deeper this time. Earning a quiet groan as Gavin finally rouses from his slumber. 

He pulls back just a touch, just a breath away to find those foggy rain cloud eyes as they flutter. Seemingly unfocused and weighted down by exhaustion.

Sleepy, sleepy human, Nines thinks. So painstakingly enamored. So taken by passion. He dips down again and seals their lips with more heat. Burning for more as Gavin’s hands start to wander and his hips begin to shift. His touch ignites tiny sparks across Nines’ simmering synthskin. Sliding past the hem of his shirt, tracing those muscles he’d just discovered only hours ago. More awake now as his body begins to respond. With that all too familiar ache in his hips that makes him want to squirm.

Gavin curls a leg up instead, his groin pressed up against the other man’s thigh, their lips smacking in the tranquility of the apartment space. He hums, finding friction. 

Nines kisses him harder, more persistently. Nips his top lip with his teeth and holds his face firmly in one hand while Gavin follows that happy trail all the way down to the waistline. 

He doesn’t respect himself enough to consider the fact that he’s still tired. That he’s struggling to even open his eyes because he wants this. He wants it bad. He wants Nines to kiss him and fuck him and use him ‘til he’s spent. And he wants to relish in the fact that Nines wants it too. That he wants Gavin laid out- in his bed- begging for it like he did last night. 

He gropes him through his pants. A shaky breath is stolen from PI. It rattles his frame. Gavin takes pride in that. He basks in it for a moment before a firm hand takes his hair by the fistful at the back of his head and yanks it back. Exposing the long and abused column of his neck where Nines growls against him. Fully hard, head spinning. He bites down on Gavin’s throat, hard enough to leave another cherry red welt that he soothes with his tongue. Practically writing his name on Gavin’s skin as he possessively adds yet another bruise to his growing collection. Thinking they’re not as close as he wants them to be, even when they’re smashed together and writhing. 

He needs more. More than just fucking. But he wants that too. It’s overwhelming and Nines isn’t sure what it is that he’s searching for, but he finds pieces of it in the way Gavin feels pressed up against him. In the heat of their kiss. Like fireworks beneath his plastic panels. Short circuits in his wiring. It’s scary and unnerving but it excites and intrigues him all in the same breath. 

He’s riding a high. Getting Gavin out of those jeans, maneuvering him over the bed so that he’s center and face down on the mattress. The smaller man is swearing under his breath as he settles onto his knees. Groggy still, hardly comprehending the movement but eagerly shoving his boxers down. Thinking he’ll take the spit prep again if it means he can-

Stay?

If it means he can stay?

Nines is dotting kisses across his back. Gavin’s a puddle in the sheets. 

He never gets like this. Never. But he’s willing to let it completely ruin him. He’s begging for it. 

“Please.”

It’s pitiful. Nines is firm and gentle, and he takes his time like he’s on an expedition to discover all the curves and jagged edges of Gavin’s body. Hands over his hips. Along his waist. Wedged between him and the mattress. One in his hair. Admiring the way the sunlight bounces off his confectious brunette locks. Gavin is putty in those palms. A mess in his arms. He moans, rocking his hips against the hand on his dick, against the mound pressed up against the cleft of his ass. Fists in the pillow case already and they’ve hardly started. 

Gorgeous, Nines thinks. He kisses his temple and Gavin nearly falls apart. But Nines wants him soft and pliant. So, he strokes him again, gathering beads of precum and spreading it over the length of Gavin’s cock. It makes him slippery. Makes his legs shake and his breath catch. 

“S’gonna be over soon if you’re not careful,” Gavin slurs. Glancing over his shoulder with foggy eyes through his fallen fringe. Nines has no clue what it is that he’s feeling, but he could just about explode. Like Gavin’s the match and he’s the fuse. 

He slides his hand away, leaving a sticky trail in its wake and he leans in for another dirty kiss. One that Gavin reciprocates as he arches back. Searching for purchase against the sheets where he lets his knees spread further on the bed in a silent plea. One that’s heard loud and clear as Nines shoves his own pants out of the way.

Gavin’s likely still sore, this is apparent in the way he hisses through clenched teeth as Nines works him open on his fingers, but he’s more than willing. His body’s much more receptive this time. The initial sting is really the worst part, but Nines finds his prostate and heat erupts in his groin hot enough to make him drop his jaw and beg. 

“Nines-“

The android purrs, searing blue eyes watching the smaller man fall to pieces beneath him. “Say it again,” he demands. Gavin whimpers pathetically. 

“Nines.”

The blunt tip of his cock replaces his two fingers. Nines strokes it, collecting his own slick this time that he secretes on command and coats the length of his shaft to ease the way in. 

Gavin bites the pillow. He takes the first inch nice and slow. Nines is considerate and he soothes him through it. Pulling out, then deeper when he pushes back in. Gavin feels impossibly full by the second thrust, he’s practically drooling by the third. He unclamps his jaw from the pillow and buries his face in it instead, with a deep groan that feels like it’s been pulled from the very center of him. Half convinced that they gave Nines a magic dick as it strokes over his prostate and drags against his rim just right. Making the intrusion so much easier than he was anticipating.

But maybe that’s just Nines. He seems to know just how to angle his hips, how to aim his thrusts. Like he’s already learned all the ins and outs of Gavin’s body by having it only once before. He presses in deep, flush against the smaller man with an elated sigh. Draped over his back as pressure gradually builds in his groin.

Neither one is going to last very long. Nines finds a rhythm that works them both up to that precipice. Head bowed to rest on Gavin’s back, one hand in the crease between his hip and thigh. Dragging languid thrusts despite their earlier urgency. Gavin swears under his labored breath, silently curing Nines and his make-a-wish dick. Cursing his own dick for already leaking all over the comforter when it’s been painfully neglected. Not that he minds. Nines is working his ass well enough that Gavin doesn’t think he’ll need the extra stimulation. This becomes apparent the closer he gets with each fervent slap of those hips on his. 

All the while, Nines squeezes with his hands, wishing he could hold Gavin tighter without hurting him. Thinking that at least he’ll wear these marks for days to follow. A thought that makes his own dick pulse. He hums, low and damn near glitched out. Gavin feels the vibrations of it on the back of his ribs and pants against it. Already close, and dangerously so. 

And Nines must be getting pretty close too, because he hooks an arm under Gavin’s chest and holds onto his shoulder. Sinking his teeth into it just the same- and yeah, definitely a fucking biter- thrusting slower. Deeper. Drawing out a series of high whimpers and whines. Noises Gavin will deny ever making if Nines ever decides to tease him about it in the future. 

Finally, he stutters. His orgasm hits him hard. Harder than he was expecting. Spilling out onto the sheets, his body fighting near violent convulsions. Nines stalls his hips and lets him milk it, feeling those walls flutter and contract around his weeping dick. It’s enough to send him toppling over that same edge. Static across his vision. Cracks in his audio. He bites down even harder. The indent of his teeth sure to be left like an imprint on Gavin’s skin, even from over the fabric of his sleeve.

There’s quiet in the afterglow and even more exhaustion as they both start to come down. Collapsed in a heap. Nines presses another kiss against the side of Gavin’s head and leaves to fetch him a towel.

It’s the least he can do. Gavin tended to him the night before, now Nines can return the favor. Finding the human nearly fallen back asleep when he returns.

“Up,” he says simply, so he can remove the top sheet and get them settled more comfortably. Gavin sends him a small pout, not at all enthused to be roused once more. Not when he's this spent.

But the promise of being wrapped up again in those arms again makes him all the more willing to oblige.

 

---

 

The next time Nines comes out of stasis, it is well past noon, and he has several missed calls banging around in his head. Two of which are from Captain Blaine, and another is from Connor- as well as a few text messages that all inquire about his wellbeing. Nines appreciates the concern, of course, and he sets a reminder to respond accordingly before moving on to the other-

The other fourteen!? 

He rises slowly at first. Then sits up out of bed, straight as a board as realization all but smacks him in the face. He pulses yellow, checking caller I.D. and listening briefly to all of the voicemails left behind. He skims them on double time and scrambles. Calculating everything from traffic speed to the distance between the parking lot and the lobby and the length of the elevator ride up as he struggles to pry himself out of Gavin’s death grip. 

The man’s otherwise completely gone, and thankfully so, Nines thinks. Desperate to find his pants as he reaches the floor. He finds Gavin’s instead and tosses them out of sight, then locates his own finally- thank god- and pulls them on just in time to hear the deadbolt click. 

Goddamn it. 

Godfuckingdamn it. 

There was a touch pad, yes, but one could unlock it manually with a physical key and the only living beings in the world to have a key to his apartment were the Blaine’s and it for damn sure wasn’t the captain at his door. 

He doubles checks to make sure that his pants aren’t on backwards. Nearly stumbling over his own feet as he makes headway for the entrance and catches the culprit just past the threshold. Poor woman hardly has her foot in the door when he rushes her. Stopping dead, clutching her chest with a sharp intake of breath. 

“Niles! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?” She screeches. Nines visibly winces. Hoping- praying- that Gavin’s a heavy sleeper. He’s met with a familiar set of almond eyes, wide and surprised. He looks at her, equally aghast. Shielding her view of the apartment with his larger frame. Though he almost trips again. Speaking in a hushed and anxious sort of manner. 

“Janice! My apologies. I was in stasis when you called-”

“Well, I called over a dozen times!” She exclaims, thinking there’s no reason to keep an inside voice when Nines lives alone and she’s been worried sick. Managing to squeeze herself through the door and pushes past him with an exasperated sigh.

Nines continues to act as a barrier as he follows, just one step behind. “Yes, I understand that, but-”

She spins back around, heavy scarf and her long coat trailing behind the motion. Dr. Blaine is nearly beside herself. This only makes Nines feel bad as she then comes back up to inspect him more closely. “Richard told me you were shot last night. Are you alright? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

He vehemently shakes his head. Speaking more firmly this time.

“No. No, Janice. Really, I’m okay. I just-”

She digs into her large purse and pulls out bags of thirium, rambling on as she does.

“I didn’t know what I was walking into, but these are for you. You like them cold, right?” She moves to turn again, likely headed for the fridge. She leads with her left foot, Nines quickly begins to calculate where this puts her line of sight as she pivots. Trying desperately to cover it, but the woman’s fast for her age. A few years shy of her husband but still nearing retirement. 

And quick as a whip too. She stops and looks him up and down with an eye of suspicion.

“What’s the matter? Why are you so frazzled? And why are you whispering?”

He stops and stands defiantly. He’s not frazzled. He doesn’t get frazzled. Nothing frazzles him.

“I’m not.”

Janice does not look even the least bit convinced. Her diamond face droops uninspiredly and she motions with her hand up at his head, still holding bags of blue blood. “Niles, you’re yellow. You’re never-” There’s a gentle snore from across the room. Nines can hear it before she even shifts her gaze to locate the source.

And she finds it. Curled up under the covers and out like a light.

“Who is that?”

Nines answers her slowly, realizing there’s no way out of this now that Gavin’s been spotted.

“That is my partner.”

“Your partner.. The hothead?”

His LED flickers miserably.

This must be embarrassment.

Janice spreads into a knowing smirk and speaks much quieter this time, minding the fact that Gavin’s sleeping and realizing very quickly what she’s just barged in on.

But none of this stops her from teasing.

“Well, I see you’ve got his temper in check.”

Nines could flush a thousand shades of red if he only possessed the ability to do so. He takes the packaged thirium from her hands, sets them on the counter and starts nudging.

“It’s always lovely to see you, Janice. Thank you so much for stopping by.”

She’s all excited somehow, visibly lit up and chirping in his ear. “Would you at least tell me what he likes? I’ll have breakfast sent up-”

“It’s afternoon and that won’t be necessary,” Nines mutters flatly. Urging her out the door. 

“Well, lunch then. Oh! And this would be a great opportunity for you to use that coffee maker we got you. He’s a cop I’m guessing? Use the dark roast-”

He appreciates her. More than he can ever begin to express. But he physically feels as if he could blow a fuse and fucking die. “I believe I can handle things from here.”

She turns just as he opens the door, more serious this time as she looks up. Past the worry lines and the delicate crinkles of her eyes. Soft and smoky. This sudden shift in her demeanor captures his attention and Nines pauses. “Okay, but are you sure you’re alright? I know hospitals make you nervous. I can go with you if you like.”

Nines offers her a promising look. “That’s very thoughtful, but I’m fine. Really. I’ve ordered a new shoulder plate and everything,” he assures. Watching the look on her face grow more and more concerned as she knowingly crosses her arms.

“The fact that it needs to be replaced..”

But Nines insists. “I promise you, I’m very durable. Now, if you don’t mind..” He guides her out into the hall. Janice turns once more and shoots him a more pointed look this time.

“Niles.”

He breathes. He breathes. That doesn’t happen very often, not involuntarily and definitely not mid conversation. 

“You snapped at Richard last night.”

Well, shit. Nines closes the door behind him. Recalling the night before with a distant scowl. “Did he tell you that as well?”

Dr. Blaine shakes her head. “No. I just know,” she says. She’s got that way about her. Where she’s extremely good at reading people and understanding their dynamics. Likely the nature of her job being a family doctor just as well as his detective line of work.

Nines holds his ground and he holds it firmly. He holds both Captain and Dr. Blaine in very high regards, but that doesn’t mean he’ll back down so easily from their confrontations.

“He shouldn’t have been there. He’s meant to be resting,” Nines says, and he’ll say it as many times as he has to. Captain Blaine has a higher chance of remission and recovery so long as he’s well rested.

“Believe me, I know. But, he’s been very worried lately.”

The android shakes his head at this. “That’s ridiculous. It’s a simple surgery and then treatment is-”

“I meant about you.”

He snaps his mouth shut. Minorly taken aback by this. He doesn’t like that he falters. Or that he’s unable to comprehend what’s brewing in his chest. These things once rolled off his back but now they consume him.

He doesn’t like it. 

And Janice can see it plain as day.

“Make it right,” she says. “Don’t make me have to hunt you down again.”

He shrivels. Tail between his legs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

But Janice smiles assuringly. Squeezing his arm three times before she finally turns to leave. Not without another knowing look tossed over her shoulder. 

“And invite your partner over for dinner sometime. I’d like to meet him.”

Nines feels it this time when his ears twitch. It makes him feel vulnerable. He goes back inside, thinking his torment is over, but it’s only just begun.

On the bed, Gavin is sitting all bright eyed and smug. Having slid back into his jeans.

“Your name is Niles?”  

Notes:

SOOOO

I went back and forth on the Nines/Niles thing. Like a million times, cuz it opens a conversation here soon, and I need it for the plot. So, I hope it's well received.

Also, I've been so excited to introduce Janice!! All of my OC's have been very welcome thus far in the fandom and I greatly appreciate that, so I hope you guys love her as much as I do.

She really came in and said: *ally*

Chapter 12: Cloud Nines

Notes:

So sorry for the delay! It was a busy weekend and then a busier week, but we're back!

Anyway, some fluff. Some Gavin/Tina friendship- they have girl talk ;)

And maybe even some angst..

As always, pls enjoy! :)

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Nines is as dry as a bone, just past the doorway where he stands. His expression flat and unamused. He shuts the door with a definitive click. Already past the initial shock of Dr. Blaine’s impromptu visit and Gavin’s apparent discovery. 

The cheeky bastard merely watches as he approaches, with an impish little grin on his pretty lips like he’s uncovered some deep dark secret. Reclining back on both hands while his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Knees apart and spread out like a dream. Those entrancing opal eyes shimmering deviously. Nines slides his hands into his pockets with a slow saunter as he walks, hoping he can brush this off with an attitude of nonchalance before he stops, towering over the smaller man with an ominous stare. Letting a beat pass before he speaks again. 

“Can I offer you some coffee?”  

Divert and redirect. That’s the plan at least, but Gavin seems to challenge this. 

“Just the dark roast, or is it a full espresso bar back there?” He teases. Nines is curious to know just how much Gavin was able to hear. Clearly, he’s learned the android’s given name and even caught a glimpse of Dr. Blaine in the process, something that only minorly perturbs the PI. After all, these were aspects of his personal life that he preferred to keep to himself and having them revealed in such an uncontrolled manner was somewhat unnerving. 

Gavin hops up without a hitch to finish buttoning his pants. They were otherwise left undone like he’d only just slid back into them before he heard the door open.

He’s got bedroom eyes as he lands just under the android’s nose. 

Nines doesn’t even flinch.

“Ya know, you could’ve told me you had someone comin’ to check on you,” Gavin zips his fly and lowers his voice flirtatiously. Disheveled from sleep and their earlier romp. “I would have made myself scarce.”

But Nines wanted him here. Something he doesn’t voice but thinks to himself as he further studies the smaller man. Vaguely he wonders just how many times Gavin’s been in this position, seeing as he keeps giving off the implications that he expects to be turned away at any point in time. 

He continues to ponder this as he rakes his eyes over the expanse of Gavin’s neck. Counting the bruises left behind, wondering if Gavin still wore his fingerprints on his hips just the same or felt the ache of their earlier entanglements between his legs. 

Was it not obvious?  

Though these possessive thoughts take him for a spin. Nines isn’t sure how to convey them or even how to process them. So, he remains silent and cycles yellow instead. 

Little does he know, Gavin’s reeling too. Unable to wrap his head around the fact that he was still standing here in Nines’ apartment after the night they shared together. After all the ups, downs. The bickering, the fighting. The bonding-

And the fucking. 

Not once, but twice. 

Nines fucked him twice. 

The sex was good too. Really good. Heat flares up under his shirt just thinking about it. Hard in the backseat of his car and feverish against the bed this morning- coming untouched. Like they’ve got some kind of magnetic pull that keeps causing them to collide. 

And he’s always thought that the sex he’s had before was pretty decent. He’s done it every which way under the sun with a vast repertoire of lovers but it’s nothing compared to whatever’s brewing between the two of them and how it translates in the sheets. Gavin’s thought about it once, and he’s still thinking about it.

Magic dick. 

They gave him a magic dick. 

And he’s still looking at Gavin like he’s saved room for thirds. With an incandescent fire behind those baby blues softly simmering. 

That’s power. 

And Gavin’s gonna let it go to his head. 

He buckles his belt in passing and searches the floor for his boots. “So, who the fuck was that anyway?” 

“Dr. Blaine. She’s a friend,” Nines says shortly. This of course, is a very loose explanation, and a generous one at that.

Gavin stops, making a very simple connection. 

“The captain’s wife?”

Another pause. A hesitant one.

“Yes.”

The human considers this with a small hum. 

“Interesting.”

He bends and snags his black Timberlands from where he left them by the bed. Nines tilts his head and observes.

“You're leaving?”

He says this like he’s disappointed, but Gavin just doesn’t get it.

Does Nines really want him to stay? His gaze shifts to the tall, expansive windows along the main wall. With unfiltered sunlight shining behind the glass, gleaming across the hardwood. Indicating that it was already well past dawn, meaning Gavin’s been here over twelve hours already. So, he fears he’s overstayed.

“Uh.. Yeah, I mean- it’s what, past noon?”  

“1:38,” Nines informs astutely. Watching Gavin sink back onto the bed, this time to tug his boots on. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he slides one foot in, taps his heel and moves onto the next. “‘Sides, I need a fuckin’ shower- and Edith is gonna demand a blood sacrifice if I’m not home soon.” He’d like to visit Tina at some point too. All of these are truths. Between the raid, the sex and his responsibilities at home, Gavin manages to convince himself that this is the right choice. 

Besides, if he leaves on his own, then Nines can’t kick him out later. It’s that simple.

“Edith?”

Oh, right. Gavin forgets, considering the fact that Nines is all buddy-buddy with his beloved feline, that he has yet to learn her actual name. 

He slides into his other boot, and looks up softly. 

“That’s my cat,” Gavin murmurs. Watching Nines as he visibly lights up.

“Ah, fitting,” he says, and there’s that smile again. Gavin could turn to absolute mush.

It’s those fuckin’ dimples-

Who the fuck gave the RK900 fuckin’ dimples? 

Reed stands before he can lose himself in a trance. Feigning a heavy sigh and exaggerating a big stretch. “But.. Anyway. Thanks for.. Everything,” he purrs, dropping his hands back at his side. Innuendos and all suggestions fully intended. Nines approaches with glimmering eyes, heavy lidded and encapsulating. 

“Likewise,” he says. Still, Gavin shoots his shoulder a quick glance, remembering the cobalt stains last night and the blow torch device that he now recalls with a sense of dread. 

He reverts his worried gaze, staring back at Nines. “You sure you’re okay?”

Nines makes a noise like a small hum of acknowledgment and rolls that same shoulder. It seems to move just fine, but his temple flutters and face contorts in a small grimace.

“It’s manageable,” he says truthfully. “But, rest assured. Everything’s running at full capacity.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” Reed mumbles, eyeing the other man up and down as if to further inspect his physical state. It does nothing but make him realize just how close they’ve gotten. With Nines looming over him, standing pretty in the daylight.

He's still so hard to read sometimes. Gavin has trouble trying to decipher just what beckons behind the android's stolid expression.  What Nines is thinking and what this means for them.

He fidgets with big, doting eyes. "Can I text you?”

It falls from his lips in the form of a question, but it’s much more of a silent plea.

Nines drifts against him like the rising tide. Taking Gavin by the chin, tilting his head back.

“Of course.”

And just like that, Gavin’s lost at sea. Drowning in those eyes. He steadies himself with both hands on the PI's slender waist. No thoughts in his head, just floating on cloud nine as the android pulls him in for a kiss. One that's slow and languid like a gentle current.

Nines can’t describe it, but heat floods in his chest with such a rush that it nearly seizes him.

It’s both terrifying and enlivening. 

He deepens their kiss. Just a touch. Sliding his hand from Gavin’s chin to cradle his face. Fingertips in his hair. Completely unable to help himself as if his system's been compromised. Another scary thought that Nines is unsure what to do with. 

And thankfully Gavin seems to have forgotten what he’s learned earlier about the android’s name and Dr. Blaine, or he’s decided not to push the issue at least. A relief to Nines seeing as he already feels more exposed than he ever has. Like his chassis was bared or his panels were stripped. 

He pulls back. Flickering yellow once more. Gavin’s sure to notice this, but Nines distracts him with another kiss.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says, in a murmur between them. Feeling somewhat overwhelmed as he glances across the mess of what is now his apartment. 

It is not like him to be so impulsive. 

But it’s second nature to Gavin. He can’t stop himself. He lets himself be led, stops halfway out the door and initiates it this time. Taking Nines by the front of his shirt with a spark behind his eyes, pulling him in. Speaking between quick pecks like he can’t get enough.

“‘Kay, I'm-” a kiss. “Gonna-” a smack. “Go now,” another smooch.

And it’s so easy to lose himself again when Gavin makes his head spin. Nines noses his way in, smiling against the human’s ear. Hanging halfway past the doorway. His hold on the frame keeps him steady. “Very well, Detective. Be careful getting home.”

Gavin leans back and flashes him a wicked grin.

“Whatever.”

 

---

 

Reed visits his lonely apartment long enough to shower and grovel to the cat. Edith is displeased, but she warms up to her owner’s late arrival after the initial greeting has passed. 

And after a few well deserved treats, of course. His poor girl, Gavin thinks. Scolding himself as he offers her a few more salmon flavored delights. She gets extra rubs too before he leaves to wash the night away. Something he does with a bit of reluctance as that means he’s also washing Nines away. 

But it feels fucking phenomenal, and he groans under the shower head as the scalding water rains down upon him. Content just to stand and circle down the drain along with the rest of the dirt and grime that trickles off of his tired body in thick rivulets. With clouds of steam already crowding the constricted space of his stand-in shower and the rest of his tiny bathroom. 

He washes his hair until it no longer feels gritty and stiff from factory dust, then lathers the soap over his body in a few passes before he’s satisfied. Unable to think about much of anything else as when he retraces all the patches of skin that Nines had explored only hours ago. It darkens his faraway gaze as he trails his own fingertips over the android’s phantom pathway. His neck, his chest, his hips. Back up along the length of his abdomen. Stopping just short-

Gavin huffs. He hates that stupid scar. Now more than ever. Not only because he finds it visibly unappealing but because it’s become a symbol in his mind of his past prejudices and shortcomings. Like no matter how hard he tries to change, that part of him will always remain.

The nasty, selfish, intolerant part of him that nearly got Connor killed over a few petty homicides. The part that didn’t care because, to him, the existence of androids was nothing but a wedge between him and the only remaining family he had left.

And he fucking hated them for that.

At least he did. It’s different now.

Now he’s got it bad for Cyberlife’s most advanced creation like some cruel joke is being made by the universe. 

He wipes his face and buries this thought with a quick hand before he shuts the water off. Besides, the longer he stands, the more his body screams. Gavin exits the shower and snags a towel off the rack. Tying it loosely around his waist before he takes another step of bravery towards the bathroom mirror and hastily swipes moisture off the glass. Met once more with his own reflection in such a short span of time. Dripping wet still and glistening in the saturated white light of his overhead fixtures. 

He twists and turns slowly. Inspecting every inch of his own skin in an effort to see the complete damage that had been done last night. Not just the mosaic of red and purple bites along his neck, but also the blemishes left behind during the events of the sweep. Like the bruise over his brow bone where he took a solid hit that knocked him on his ass and the scrapes along his back from when he was thrown by Nines. 

It’s nothing he can’t handle. Gavin’s used to aches and pains after a job, it comes with the territory. Luckily, he’s still young enough to take it. A thought he has with a hint of amusement as if some of the abuse wasn’t welcome in the first place. 

Like the blueish splotch along his side where the seat belt dug into the back of his ribs, or dots over his pelvis that disappeared below the towel where Nines held and dug his fingers in deep- probably deeper than he should have, but Gavin didn’t mind. 

He steps away from the mirror finally with a sense of satisfaction and moves towards the bedroom, where he dries off and throws on a hoodie and some track pants. He’s got a shit storm of paperwork waiting for him at the precinct, sure, but he took the rest of the day off on account of his aches and pains and his lingering exhaustion. Having in mind to do nothing else but visit his fellow officer- one of the very few he actually likes and can stand to get along with. So, he dresses for comfort and slides into a pair of old converse. Then finds his keys where he left them in the kitchen and turns to leave once more with Edith hot on his heels, desperate for more of his attention. 

He stops and coos, “I’ll be back, baby girl.” A promise he intends to keep this time as he bends to give her another well deserved pet. Then back out the door.

Lucky for him, the hospital where Tina’s currently recovering isn’t much of a commute. Last he heard she was more awake this afternoon than she had been all morning and her knee replacement had gone smoothly. 

Modern medicine never ceases to amaze him. Gavin mulls over it on the elevator ride up to her room. With all the bio advancements and technological upgrades, it took what could have been a career stunting injury down to a minor procedure- one that will still take a full recovery process, but it won’t leave her near as bad as it could have been even ten years ago. 

It helps that she’s in decent shape as well and, according to Hank, the break was clean, so surgery was even more efficient. All of this came as a relief to Gavin, who already felt like a piece of shit for getting her into the mess in the first place.

But he could breathe easy.

She was going to be okay.

He finds her room on the third floor at the end of a long hall. Trying not to think about the last time he was here and all those weeks he spent coming back and forth as he courteously knocks on her door. The receptionist said people have been coming and going all day but he wasn’t sure if her family had flown in yet to see her or not, so he didn’t know exactly what he was walking into. 

Just that seeing her was important. 

But, alas, her room is free of visitors. Gavin adjusts his collar before he enters. Treading mindfully across the tiles. Tina spots him first. Still a little drowsy as her head rolls to the side. 

“Aw, Gav, you came to see me, you big softie,” she beams. With a sleepy voice that’s somehow still high and chirpy.

He sends her a lighthearted, lopsided grin. The younger officer is all slumped back against the pillows with her hair down, in a powder blue hospital gown and her injured leg slightly elevated by a hanging sling. Heavily wrapped in a sterile white cast and set with shiny metal rods. The mattress was raised to keep her reclined in a near sitting position, giving her a better view of the television hung up on the other side of the room- some late 2010’s show was on, serving only as distant background noise.

Gavin finds an armchair and plops down at her bedside and greets her officially with an elated sigh.

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone, alright? I got a reputation to uphold.”

“That’s dumb. You’re a dummy,” she slurs. Hooked up to a bunch of tubes, a few minor scratches on her fair skin. Groggy, but all there.

And thankfully in good spirits. Gavin chuckles.

But her enthusiasm is short lived the closer she looks at him. Creasing her brows with a hard squint. 

“Am I fucked up or d’you lose a fist fight to a vacuum cleaner?” 

Gavin sinks down into his seat, lifting the collar of his hood up over his chin. Elbow on the armrest. He’s been getting looks all afternoon and he was hoping Tina might be too doped up to notice.

“You might be a little fucked up,” he says from under the fabric with a bit of added humor. Tina just continues to stare at him. Slowly piecing it all together through the midst of her haze and comes to the very obvious conclusion. 

“You didn’t..”

He bounces his knee, unable to wipe the stupid smirk off his face.

He’s not one to kiss and tell. Really, he’s not.

Okay, that’s a stretch. Truth is, he’s never had a reason to be.

Until now that is.

“Wow.. I lose my entire fucking knee and your bitchass gets laid.” Tina glares at him, with disdainful umber eyes. “I really hate you right now.”

He throws his hands up in defense. “Hey- you’re the one that said-”

“I said kiss!” Tina exclaims. She becomes much more animated in the heat of her shock and excitement- because she is happy for him despite the circumstances- waving her arms around. “Maybe tongue each other a little bit, I dunno- but my knee, Gavin. My fucking knee,” she says on repeat for emphasis. 

Reed comes forward in his seat, leaning in to offer his deepest sympathies. “I know, and I’m really, really fuckin’ sorry about that, T..” He stops and pauses for effect. “But it was for a good cause.”

Pathetically, she throws a pillow at him. One he catches with a laugh before it hits him in the face, flashing the monitor a quick look to make sure it hasn’t spiked hard enough to alert the hospital staff.

“Hey- easy! You’re supposed to be resting-”

Tina crosses her arms and pouts. “I hate you. I hate you so fuckin’ much and I wanna know everything. Every last detail. Even the dirty ones.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen,” Reed says, drawing a hard line in the sand on that one. He’s more than happy to brag about who but everything else is gonna stay locked up tight in the vault of his own personal memory bank. Recollections he’ll be sure to visit much later and behind closed doors.

“You have to, I practically own you right now,” Chen argues. But Gavin frowns.

“It’s not like this is actually gonna be a thing, T,” he retorts, fluffing the pillow in his grasp before he stands to return it.

Tina looks up at him all knowingly with a cheesy grin, sitting up as much as she can as he gently tucks that cushion back behind her head.

“Gaavv, you really like him,” she coos, in a dreamy sing-song voice like this is some kind of rom-com where he’s the dipshit protagonist who scores the guy that’s way out of his league. Gavin flushes bright red and scoffs, falling back into that armchair.

It'd be silly to think that anything could actually come of this. Gavin knows his place in the world and knows that he's better off alone anyway.

But then he thinks of how it felt to be held all night and how perfect he fit on that tiny ass bed with Nines. How he's become enamored by that impenetrable stare and how badly he wants to brush that loose tendril back for a better look at that pretty face.

“He’s okay, I guess,” Reed mumbles. Digging for his phone. It’s only been a few hours, but he’s already itching for more contact.

Tina simply gleams. “You should’a seen him the other day after you took personal time for some beauty sleep. Like a lost puppy in the bullpen,” she says. One hand on her chest, paraphrasing in a thick posh accent as if to convey some high society diplomat instead. 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Detective Gavin Reed. We’re working a case together.”

Gavin looks up from the screen to send her a look of disinterest.

Tina acknowledges his displeasure, but continues nonetheless.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s the way he said it. I’m on pain killers, so I can’t quite capture the longing in his voice or the stars in his eyes. But I told him you weren’t there and he deflated like a balloon. Then I told him you were at home and he perked right back up. So. You’re welcome,” she rambles on, talking as if she did him some kind of favor.

Gavin won’t lie and say this strikes him. After being wrapped up in Nines all night, their exchange this morning and those eager kisses earlier this afternoon, it’s hard not to feel like there could be something more. 

“Are you texting him?” Chen’s rubbing her eyes, no doubt fighting another drowsy spell. She trudges through it with another goofy grin. “You should tell him that I’ll one v. one him in a kicking match- but only with my robo-leg. Winner gets the rights to your immortal soul.”

“Tina.”

He’s not even going to humor that idea. 

She tosses her head back this time and dramatically sighs. “Fine. At least pass me the remote. I require Gossip Girl re-runs.” She extends her hand flamboyantly. It’s Gavin’s turn to breathe. He snatches the damn thing from the rolling bedside table and begrudgingly obeys her command.

She then manifests an empty cup that had been left forgotten by her side and shakes it.

“Also be a dear and fetch me some more ice- oh! And see if you can snag me some jell-o from the cafeteria while you’re at it.”

Gavin stands and plucks the styrofoam from her hand with a hard scowl. “You’re really gonna fuckin’ milk this, aren’t ya?”

He’s not even the least bit surprised, and he’s more than willing to put up with it. 

After all, it was his stubbornness that landed her here in first place. So, he’ll suffer at her beck and call until she’s content to let him off the hook. 

Though it’s looking like he may be in it for the long haul. 

But that’s okay too. 

“Oh, I’m taking full advantage,” Tina tells him with a devious glint behind her sable eyes. “You’re my bitch now, Reed.” 

She then waves him off with a dainty hand. “Now shoo. Your fat head is blocking the TV,” she orders curtly, with her nose up high. Disregarding him like some lowly peasant. 

Fair enough, Gavin thinks. Even as he stalks away grumbling.

 

---

 

It’s closer to evening when Gavin makes it home the second time. This time when he kicks off his shoes, he has no intention of putting them back on. He shuffles past the door and heads straight for the couch where he collapses with a graceless flop and a depleted sigh. Laying flat over the cushions, legs crossed, an arm folded beneath his head.

He whips out his phone and checks the time.

6:07 p.m.

It’s only been five hours.

Silently, he swears. Unsure if it’s too early to text, if that even matters in this case or if the idea of reaching out so soon was just a farce falsely fabricated in the dating scene to prevent folks from coming on too strong- then wonders if Nines would even notice. 

Really, it shouldn’t matter. Gavin’s never considered this in the past because he’s never cared. There was always a clear cut, no strings attached sort of agreement that he was often met with and that’s what he would stick with. Under the mentality that he’ll reach out again when he needs to get his dick wet or he’ll drop contact altogether if the sex wasn’t worth the effort.

But it’s different this time. It’s different because..

He wants the strings.

He wants the effort.

And Nines said it best: maybe he is a fucking idiot, because he picks his phone back up and types before he can even process the motion or stop it. Thinking, at the very least, Nines won’t think he’s uninterested.

// pretty sure i forgot to properly thank you earlier //

// for the dick at least ;) //

A bold start. He stares at the screen, wondering if that was a bit too much and decides that Nines is already accustomed to his unbridled nature.

And he seemed to like his dirty mouth last night, so Gavin’s not entirely too worried about it. 

He is surprised however, when his phone buzzes after only a few minutes of him sitting in silence, eyes closed as if he could fall asleep like this. They shoot open amidst the vibration on his chest and he scrambles for it. But then again, Nines is communicating through his own head- something Gavin often forgets whenever they text like this. 

He can’t imagine how annoying that must be. And here he is, sending double texts like the Gen Z IPad kid that he is.

:: No need to thank me, Detective ::

Gavin smiles. Completely oblivious to the ominous tip of a tail sharking the edge of the couch.

// wow //

// so modest //

He’s teasing, at least he hopes it comes across that way. Gavin dives in deeper, regarding an earlier discovery that he hasn’t stopped thinking about since it first found him this morning.

// so.. Niles.. :) //

// is that a secret you were hopin to keep or what?? //

There’s a lengthier pause between the android’s response this time. Edith has time to hop up and make her presence known by landing just above his groin. 

For as little as she is, the little shit carries the weight of the fuckin' universe in her paws. Gavin jolts with a punched out noise and drops his phone. The device nearly smacks him in the face as a result of this. 

He scoops her up and scolds her.

Fucking. Air jail.

“Edith Elizabeth-”

She dangles in his hold and pitifully mews. That's when Gavin realizes he hasn’t fed her since he’s been home, so he sighs and sets her back down on his chest. Checking his phone one more time, eagerly clicking the message banner before he sits up, taking Edie with him and releasing her as she squirms.

:: Dr. Blaine calls me Niles. She says it suits me ::

Gavin chuckles, sending a quick response before he stands and heads for the kitchen. A tiny bell behind him. 

// i dunno seems like a bit of a stretch //

He flicks on the lights. That red vase gleams in the display case, Gavin shoots it a longing glance, one that comes as a product of last night’s close call. 

:: Funny ::

Gavin looks at his phone with a half hanging smile, pausing by the bar. Edie walks her front paws up the side of his calf and meows again, long and drawn out this time as she greatly anticipates her dinner. 

“Give me two seconds, baby,” he says as he types out another cheeky response.

// is that your actual name ? //

Then tosses his phone on the counter and turns to the cupboard where he keeps the cat food. Edith circles him like a vulture. Tail erect, eyes wide. Gavin can hear the vibrations of his phone over the bar but he maintains his task because he’s not that desperate for attention and his poor kitty’s practically wasting away at his feet.

He sends her a look.

“You’re a brat.”

She sits so pretty, so patiently as he peels the tab off a tin can and walks it to her bowl. Spilling the contents into the stainless steel that she happily digs into while Gavin tosses the can and snags his phone once more. Unable to suppress the flush in his chest.

He’s enjoying this.

He’s actually learning something about Nines. Getting an insight into his past, a peek into his otherwise very vague origins.

:: On paper ::

:: But I prefer to be called Nines, especially in a work setting. Niles feel too.. Intimate ::

Gavin smirks. Finally past the initial waves of nerves. He feels confident enough to dip his toe in the water, to see where they lie now that they’re finally starting to jive.

// so.. what do i call you then ?? //

He hits send and waits.

And waits.

He waits so long that he starts to circle back to those earlier doubts, wondering if he’s overstepped or pushed too far. He’s busy, Gavin tells himself. Checking his phone for the upteenth time with a small frown as he finally starts to settle. Curled up in his empty bed in the quiet darkness of his bedroom. Thoughts racing. 

Something came up and he’ll come back to it later. He tells himself all this because he knows- he knows- that pursuing Nines is like catching lightning in a bottle. 

That even if it strikes, the glass is bound to break.

But it’s worse than that, because Gavin’s the bottle.

And he’s chock full of cracks already.

Notes:

LET. THERE. BE.

ANGGGSSTTT

I'm very excited. In case you couldn't tell.

*proceeds to cackle menacingly*

Chapter 13: Dial Tone

Notes:

Uploading this in the middle of the night because wine

Also, some context because this is a follow up of my previous fic- obviously I get that some might not wanna read that given the contents- that's totally fine. Just beware, some things are referenced in this chapter- nothing graphic. Basically, all you need to know is that Gavin was in a position to prevent what happened to Connor, but he was being a lil bitch instead and completely ignored his distress signal cuz he thought someone else would get to him. He obviously hates himself for this and that's what got him the pew pew, but. Anyway. It's pretty self-explanatory.

Anyway,

Enjooyyy :)

It’s Thursday morning and Gavin’s off to another rough start. Having slept through his alarm despite falling asleep face down in the pillows, clutching his phone. He wakes due to the cadence blaring like a siren in the deep recesses of his slumber. Something that had slowly stirred him before he practically flailed out of bed.

It’s laughable, really, just how much his life can change in such a short amount of time and how some things just happen to stay the same.

For instance, he’s running late again. This time on account of waiting for a text back like he’s some sucker with a high school crush- something he berates himself over as he dresses for the day. Hastily throwing on one of the only high collared shirts that he owns- a grey cowl neck sweater that he rips off the hanger in a hurry, then tugs on a pair of jeans. 

He’d brushed his teeth in the shower- forgot to shave and only loosely combed his hair back. Skipping the product he usually throws in it to keep it from falling over his face. Partially because he was already pinched for time and partially because he’s grossly exceeded the amount of times he was willing to look in the mirror lately. Fighting the urge to check his phone on and off again throughout the entire upset of his rocky morning.

Somehow he makes it to the precinct in time to beat the morning rush, already dreading his day as he knows it’ll be nothing but strenuous paperwork that he’ll have to file and send off. All the fun that comes with closing a case. Of course, he starts out in the breakroom. Grabbing a coffee and a cereal bar that he’ll chew on as he types out his statement. Purposely ignoring his phone now as he settles at his desk, thinking better than to dwell on whatever the hell is going on between him and his so-called partner.

Motherfucker sure dipped out on all the scut work that’s for damn sure. Gavin bitterly jabbed at his keyboard, grumbling to himself. Thinking Mr. Superior must be above the office work responsibilities that came with the job- of course, Gavin thought the same for himself. He’s the one that had actually managed to locate their suspect, why the hell was he the one stuck dealing with all the paperwork?

Gavin shoots his phone a glance, having tossed it up by the monitor first thing as he sat down and decides:

He’s not playing this game. 

He plucks the device from where it sits and types out a thoughtful, but indifferent message. One he hopes will break the ice and ease the tension that’s built up between them. 

// hey don’t worry about the name thing //

He double texts on purpose, because he’s a little shit sometimes and he knows it’s bound to garner the android’s attention this way. 

// its not that deep. we can just.. carry on or whatever //

And with that, he throws his phone back on the desk and resumes his typing, taking a swig from his lukewarm coffee. His phone buzzes before he can swallow. Gavin’s heart nearly skyrockets out of his chest, but he sits like a stone. Letting a beat pass before he reaches. Letting the screen fade back to black before he hits the lock button and skims the notification banner with eager eyes. 

Nines has responded. 

It’s not what Gavin’s looking for. 

:: That would be preferred ::

Just as quickly as his heart had soared, it now plummets and crashes through the floor. 

He could very well be reading way too far into this. Maybe Nines just means that he wants to be called Nines because he prefers it and not because he wants to go back to the way things were before they had sex- twice. 

Still, Gavin physically deflates. He’s not sure where to go with that or how to respond, just that it feels like a low blow. 

It’d be one thing if it was just sex, but Gavin plays it all back. Like a broken film reel in his head, grappling to find the indicator in the midst of all that had transpired between them to suggest that it was only physical. Between the standoff when Gavin was held at gunpoint- how Nines had looked at him like he could burn down the entire city just to ensure his safety. To how he stared at him with those same starry eyes in the moonlight just before they’d shared their first kiss. Recollecting the way Nines had held him- shielded him- from the cold. How tender he was in the back seat despite the fact that they were rushing and all too eager just to get their hands on each other. 

No, it couldn’t be all physical, not when Gavin limped him back home and helped tend to his gunshot wound. When they fell asleep in each other’s arms and he woke to Nines kissing his breath away in the golden light of dawn like he couldn’t get enough. 

But then, that eventually led to another fuck, and perhaps that’s all Nines was searching for. He didn’t exactly object when Gavin finally decided to leave, even if his kisses felt like they meant something and his touch was still lingering on Gavin’s skin like the smell of rain on wet pavement. 

Wistfully, Gavin sighs. Falling back in his chair to pinch the bridge of his nose. Wishing he could at least scrub the bruises off his neck and wash away all the remnants of that night and the morning after so he could pretend like it never happened. So he could just carry on like he suggested .

It’s something he tries to do as he pushes through the rest of his day, pulling a nine to five at a snail’s pace. Waiting by the phone, pondering his next move like they’re at a standstill in a game of chess. Something proven impossible when he’s torn to pieces. In one part trying to be indifferent, trying to accept it for what it was- as if to pacify the other half of him that’s grasping at straws in an effort to figure out where everything went wrong.

Was it too much too soon? Should he have left when Nines was settled? Perhaps he’s being pedantic. Gavin tests the waters again when he’s back home, finding comfort in the sanctuary of his apartment. He shrugs his coat off by the door and taps away at his phone, moving one space on the checker board for Nines to consider.

// did you wanna get together again sometime? //

It’s timid and far from being a sexy proposition and Gavin hates himself for it because he’s normally so much smoother than that. But then again, he’s never actually given a shit if he actually gained a response, if the other person even reciprocated any desire for coffee or another round in the sheets. If he even saw or heard from them again because he was content to live and let go. 

But it’s different this time.

It’s different because it’s Nines.

And he may as well have sent that message to the void, because Gavin isn’t warranted a response for the second night in a row. Reeling once more as he tosses and turns after he shuts out the lights. Enveloped in darkness. Writhing in uncertainty. 

But it’s fine.

It’s cool.

Nines is no exception to the fact that Gavin’s better off alone, that he’s meant to be. 

But, goddamn it. He just can’t accept that this time. Gavin scowls at his phone once more. Lit up behind the screen as he stares at their sporadic messages. Thinking he’s done all that he could do. He’s practically led the man to water, all that’s left now is to sit back and see if he’ll drink.

Once more easier said than done. Gavin’s hard headed and he can push himself through most challenges out of spite alone, but this might just take the fucking cake.

With another heavy sigh, deep seated and nearly defeated, he nuzzles into the sheets again and waits. Pressure mounting in his chest, buzzing in his skull.

It’ll be another rough morning when he wakes.

 

---

 

Friday is no better, the weekend drags, but Gavin plays the waiting game all the way into the next week. Giving Nines his presumably much needed space so that he doesn’t come off as clingy and impatient, wishing he had at least something to go off of. But, no. Not a, “ fuck you ,” “ get lost,” or even an ambiguous emoji. Just radio silence. Like Nines has dropped off the face of the earth.

But Gavin’s still holding out hope, because he’s pathetic and part of him hopes this is all just some stupid misunderstanding that they’ll eventually laugh about- because the even more miserable parts of his feeble mind actually see them laughing together in the distant future. Like some delusional teenage girl day dreaming about her celebrity crush during study hall.

It’s gross and he hates himself for it. He’s a grown man after all, he should be able to handle his shit.

But then Connor approaches him during his lunch break on Monday. Gavin’s got his feet propped up on his desk, numbing his brain with a game of solitaire on his phone. Almost doing a double take as he looks up to catch a glimpse of the android’s face. Breath caught in his chest for just a moment before he slumps back in his chair with a disappointed sigh.

Really, he should have known at first glance. For all the jarring similarities the two androids share, there are vast differences between them as well. Nines is curt and uptight whereas Connor’s much more fluid and relaxed. Nines is dark and ominous while Connor’s bright and sunny. Favoring pastel sweaters and neatly pressed dress pants or jeans in contrast to Nines and his dark muted turtlenecks and tapered slacks that he seems to prefer. 

Today should have been a dead giveaway. A periwinkle crew neck over a white collared shirt?

Nines would never.

If not for his state of dress, then certainly those big disparate autumn eyes- much unlike the icy stare Gavin’s been stuck on lately. Connor stops short up by the corner of his desk. It’s already assumed that he’s off duty, given his civilian attire. Practically breezing up to him with an inquiring gaze.

“Afternoon, Detective,” he starts with a much more casual tone in regards to his supposed successor. 

Gavin hardly looks up from his virtual game of cards, sulking behind the screen.

“‘Sup, Tin Can,” he mutters, hoping to come across as bored instead of woefully dispirited. Lucky for him, Connor cuts straight to the chase- which sounds about right for the two of them. No need to drag things out for the sake of niceties.

“Have you seen Hank? It’s important,” Connor says. Something that snags his attention. Gavin flashes those grey eyes, studying the android more closely.

They may be on difficult terms, but he still tries to make a point sometimes to show that he gives a little bit of a shit. Connor being here on a weekday, seeking out his husband for something of alleged importance already raises a few flags on its own given that he’s normally so diligently posted at the other precinct. 

“You okay?”

Connor draws his brows like he’s been befuddled. So much more animated than his doppelgänger. “I’m fine,” he’s quick to say. Snappy, but not at all with any malice. He digresses with a small shrug. “It’s grown up stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” 

Funny, Gavin can see that he’s being teased. He looks at Connor flatly and hits the lock button on his phone. 

“Whatever, I think he’s downstairs- want me to grab him?” He sets his feet on the floor, moving to stand. Connor shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. He was expecting me,” he assures, then adds with a small smile, “but thank you.”

There’s a beat between them. Connor seems content to end things here, he even starts to turn but Gavin-Gavin’s desperate. He knows Connor’s the only other tie he has to Nines and he’s not about to let an opportunity slide, so Gavin opens his mouth before the unsuspecting android has any time to retreat.

“Hey, uh, you hear from Nines lately?”

Connor stops and cocks his head like a curious puppy. Studying the detective agent with a quizzically intent sort of stare. Treading with caution.

“We spoke this morning. Why?” 

Figures, Gavin bites back the bitter urge to roll his eyes and instead pulls a reasonable excuse out of thin air and presents it nonchalantly. 

“No reason, just some case stuff that came up and I couldn't get a hold of him,” he says, reclining back into his swivel chair, hands clasped with interwoven fingers. Connor’s looking at him like he’s not even the least bit convinced, still he humors this. Shifting his posture almost impatiently. 

“He’s upstate, but I can relay your message-“

Gavin shakes his head and sharply interjects. “Upstate? Since when?”  

Connor looks mildly taken aback by this, eyes wide like he hadn’t expected the detective to be so abrupt. 

“He left a few days ago..”

Gavin blinks. 

That coward. 

That spineless fucking coward. 

He simmers deep down. Managing to save face somehow as he leans forward to roll his chair up by the monitor. Finding it easier to keep himself level if he’s got a distraction.  

“Damn, that sucks. Nothin’ up there but a bunch of fuckin’ farmers,” he grits, smacking a few buttons on the keyboard. Like that doesn’t make it obvious. 

He can’t help it. He’s fucking pissed.

Connor merely continues, his suspicions flying under the radar. “He should be back soon, the case he’s working didn’t sound very high profile,” he tells the detective. Gavin could fucking laugh.

Sounds like he jumped at the first opportunity.

What a fucking pussy. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles, searing eyes burning holes into his computer screen. Staring at nothing in particular. Just logs of data against a saturated blue filter. Blazing with a quiet fury. 

Connor stares at him. 

He wants to smack Gavin upside the head.

But it’s not his place to intervene. Still, he throws the guy a bone. 

“So.. Should I relay your message?” Connor asks with an impassive look on his face. One hand placed over the desk to lightly drum his fingers. Gavin’s not looking at him, he’s completely shut off. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. Connor gives the desk a small tap and steps back. 

“Well, I’m sure he’d be glad to hear from you.”

Okay, maybe Connor’s ominous too sometimes, but Gavin disregards this. In fact, he begs to differ.

He huffs instead.

Oh, he’ll hear from me, Gavin thinks. Spiraling in his head. He continues fuming long after Connor finally departs and for the rest of the day. Falling seamlessly back into his role as the office asshole. Snapping at anyone who gets in his way or even breathes wrong in his general direction. Even gets pulled aside by Fowler.

Whatever. He doesn’t give a shit. Gavin storms down the steps of the precinct at the end of his very long day- he’d stayed late. Past nine, in fact. What the fuck else was he supposed to do? Temps were dropping outside and the forecast was calling for snow, but his temper let off steam in the frigid air around him. He’s yet to reach out to Nines again, wanting to gather his thoughts and maybe think this whole thing through a little more clearly before hitting the button on any misguided missiles.

There’s still a chance that this is all in his head, but he needs to be sure. He whips out his phone and shoots Hank a text, thinking enough time has passed since he left with Connor that they should be home by now.

And really, Hank’s the only person he can think to confide in. Of course, there’s Tina, but with a situation this delicate.. He’s hesitant. Besides, she’s been through enough already and her family was in from Denver, so he wasn’t going to bother her anymore than he already has. With that thought in mind, he hops into the car- what is now a very tortuous reminder as he flashes the backseat a longing glance from the rearview. Chewing his nails to suppress the urge to tear into his dash for that pack of cigarettes he had stashed away. Gripping the steering wheel.

He makes it to the Andersons after a very sullen drive, slamming his car door on the way out and bounding up the concrete path to their front door. Unthinking as he knocks. Shivering from the cold as he hadn’t exactly dressed for the weather. No, he threw on an old hoodie and yesterday’s jeans.

There’s a big boof and a hurried scuffle on the other side along with muffled voices. Gavin takes a step back just as the door flies open. 

Met with a fiery gaze, he flinches. Not having expected to be met by the wrath of Connor, especially after how cordial their earlier interaction was. How civil. Clearly, a lot has transpired since then. Gavin gives him a quick once over with a nervous glance. The android’s dressed down from the day. In blue plaid pajama pants and an oversized long sleeve. He looks somewhat ruffled, almost like Gavin’s interrupted something.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Gavin opens his mouth to speak, Connor does not give him this opportunity. 

“It’s quarter to ten, Gavin. Go home,” he snaps, a figure from behind coming into view.

“Connor-”

The android whips around, staring daggers. Gavin nearly shrinks back, thinking he’d really hate to be on the other end of that. Hank’s standing in the background, dressed in his robe, an old t-shirt and a pair of loose sweat pants. Flushed and similarly disheveled.

Yep, Gavin definitely, nearly walked in on something. He breathes and throws a thumb over his shoulder.

“Sorry, I’ll-”

Connor scoffs and throws the door open. 

“No, please come in,” he sneers. “Make yourself comfortable. Don’t mind me. I’ll be upstairs.”

He shoots Hank a look that could kill, the older man seems to wince. Standing in the blue light of the fish tank. This doesn’t stop Connor from digging his heels in even further. He rips a blanket off the back of the couch and grumbles. “C’mon, Sumo.”

To which the fury giant obediently follows, having been perked up already and is now dragging himself out of his lumpy dog bed. Bounding up the stairs as the android begrudgingly stalks off. Socked feet on the carpet. Both humans watch him leave, one having shrunk back into his shell and the other with an apprehensive edge.

“Uh, gimme a minute,” Hank says finally, like he’s been itching to chase his dearly beloved from the get-go. Gavin says nothing. He is but a bystander on the sidelines, waiting for the walls to come closing in around him as he counts the cracks in the drywall.

Hank disappears and Gavin fidgets, meandering into the kitchen trying to pretend like he can’t hear their argument as it floats down the stairs in a mangle of incoherent mutterings. 

A feat deemed impossible when he can somewhat make out the bits and pieces of what they’re saying to each other. Hank’s trying his damndest to be reasonable and Connor's not having any of it.

“It’s not like he showed up out of nowhere. He texted me this time-”

It’s half true. Gavin sent him a text, but Hank never responded, so he likely didn’t even see it.

And Connor’s not stupid, and it doesn’t sound like he’s budging either.

“Then you should have told him, ‘no.’”

Hank counters this in Gavin’s defense. “Where else is he gonna go, Connor?”

“He can confide in you outside of our home.”

Ouch. Gavin tries to ignore the stab on that one. Pacing back and forth in a slow amble across the kitchen tiles. Still trying desperately to distract himself from their feud as he comes across a stack of papers on the dining room table where he stops and pauses.

He only means to glance, but his line of work and his natural need to be nosy consumes him in one fleeting moment. Long enough for him to skim the fine print. Recognizing the stamp on the front page and the various little lines highlighted for their required signatures.

It’s an application of sorts- a foster parent application.

Like a splash of cold water to the face, Gavin nearly recoils. Realizing what he’s barged into and the mess he’s created in trying to squeeze himself into their lives as there was room for him to fit. As if he were ever actually welcomed instead of tolerated. Resting the unsigned documents back against the table where he found them, simultaneously running a hand through his hair to rub his scalp in a means of self-soothing.

Connor says something else along the lines of, “today of all days,” and, “handle it or I will,’ followed by a few muffled thumps and what sounds like the slam of their bedroom door. Gavin closes his eyes with remorse and pats for his keys.

He shouldn’t be here.

He should go.

He turns on a heel and makes to move for the door, not having heard the impending heavy footfalls that gracelessly descend from the top of the stairs. Nearly trampled by Hank as he comes barreling in, not expecting the younger man to be on his way out.

Gavin bites back a swear and Hank looks at him incredulously.

“What’re you doing?”

Nervously, Gavin falters. “Um, I’m just gonna go-”

“Sit down.”

Hank snags those papers off the table as he bypasses the younger man, looking somewhat incensed as he scuffs across the open expanse of the kitchen. “What the hell was so goddamn important that it couldn’t wait anyway?” He starts, sounding gruff and unsettled as he stores those papers away in a junk drawer.

Gavin hasn’t moved, only swiveled to remain facing Hank’s direction with a withering stare. 

He stammers. “It’s nothing, really. I just.. I’ll go. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to-”

Hank turns, sounding impatient. “Gavin, you’re already here. He’s already pissed off. Just talk to me,” he says. Like the fight has left him. Gavin shakes his head, taking a single step back as he physically shrivels. 

“I’m really not trying to start anything-”

He just wanted someone to listen, but Gavin forgets that he doesn’t get such luxuries.

“It’s fine, really. He’s had a rough day is all. I should have told you that- I wasn’t by the phone,” Hank quickly explains, rubbing the back of his neck as he does. 

“I get it,” Gavin says, he talks quietly so as not to disturb the android upstairs any further. 

“And it’s hard for him to see you sometimes, so maybe more of a heads up in the future-”

This is a barter Gavin’s willing to work with, but something in that statement strikes him a little bit. 

He throws his hands up. “Hey, I get that I was an asshole about the whole android thing at one point, but trust me, I’ve really come a long way. I think I might even-“

“That’s not what I mean, Gavin,” Hank deadpans, but it doesn’t seem to register. The younger man simply flounders. 

“It’s not..?”

The lieutenant looks at him despondently. 

“Gav.”

Everything stops. Like a pin drop. The pulse in his veins, the catch in his breath. Locked up like a deer in the headlights as it finally dawns on him. 

Hank knows. He’s known this whole time. 

Gavin’s still standing completely flabbergasted. Panicking almost because if Hank knows-

Then Nines probably knows too.

Hank folds his arms with a stony expression. “Connor and I don’t keep things from each other. We’re very transparent,” he says, like he can see it all over the smaller man’s face. Gavin shakes his head in utter disbelief. 

“Why haven’t you said anything?” 

“It’s not for lack of wanting to,” Hank tells him. “Believe me. When Connor told me.. I wanted to break your fuckin’ jaw. I think I was halfway out the door before he stopped me.”

Reed runs a palm over the side of his face. That day, those six pings- they haunt him. “I thought you guys had him. I really-”

“I know,” Hank says tersely. Articulating his words sharply. Unable to help himself.

This was a long time coming.

“You were being a fuckin’ idiot that day. Right?”

Gavin nods his head. Voice caught up in his throat. 

“Right.”

“And you were pissed off because it was your case that we were walking all over,” Hank continues. This is a presumption, but it’s wildly correct. 

Gavin bobs his head again and mutters in a quiet breath. Hands on his hips. “Yeah.”

Hank is unrelenting. “So, you ignored Chris when he told you the signal was dropped.”

“Pretty much,” Gavin croaks. He pinches his eyes. 

He didn’t need this tonight. He really didn’t need this.

Suddenly he turns, unable to face it as he blinks past the swell of tears. Feeling as if everything was crashing down around him. Taking quick strides across the den, struggling to keep his composure.

The pressure just keeps building inside.

“Gavin, hey-” Hank’s footsteps are notoriously heavy, and they’re coming up behind him before he can even reach the front door, stopping him in his tracks. Gavin stills, drawn back as if he were trying to shrink away from the older man as he stands before him. Like he’s afraid that he might actually strike him if given the chance.

But Hank’s hands are only raised in a show of peace. His voice is calm and subdued. “Hey, stop for a second. We’re fine-”

“How can you even say that?” Gavin snaps, completely bewildered. Like he can’t even begin to fathom how he’s still standing, how Hank hasn’t pummeled him to the ground and smashed his head in.

Hank starts, heatedly at first. “Look,” he says. “What you did was nothing short of gross fuckin’ negligence and it probably should have cost you your fuckin’ badge, but yours wasn’t the only fuck up that happened that night. It was a catalyst of bullshit that all started from the very beginning.”

He sighs, as if to expel some of the rage and replace it with something a little more hopeful. 

“But, Gavin, how you responded after that fact matters too. You didn’t rest until we had those guys,” he begins to count on his fingers. “You handled the lawyers, the suspects. Hard shifts, long nights- you took a fuckin’ bullet in the process, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for myself- hell, I probably failed him the most out of this whole fuckin’ ordeal, more than anybody else-” Hank shakes his head, getting swept up in the muddle of his own bullshit. He backtracks. “But none of what you did for him goes unrecognized. You cared about what happened to him. He saw that, and I could see it too.”

Gavin’s not listening, he’s staring at the photos on the wall. Picture perfect memories encapsulated behind frames, fleeting moments he’s only ever dreamed of having.

He doesn’t belong here.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“That’s not to say you’re completely absolved of your bullshit,” Hank babbles on. Gavin tunes in enough to make out what he’s saying, but it lands on deaf ears. “I still think you’re a dipshit and I wanna wring your fuckin’ neck sometimes, but it’s not my place to be pissed off at you.”

Gavin drops his gaze and sniffs. Like he has the fucking right to feel sorry for himself. Like he’s deserving of any kind of leniency. 

Hank just looks at him forlornly. “Connor just needs some space from you sometimes,” he says quietly. “We’ve got.. A lot of shit going on right now. A lot’s about to change and-”

“So, why the fuck are we still talking?” Gavin snaps coldly, suddenly incensed behind glassy grey eyes. The older man deflates, and looks at him almost pleadingly. As if he can sense what’s coming from a mile away.

“Gav..”

What Hank can’t tell him is that it’s because of how they bonded in the week that had passed after Connor’s incident, when they were forced to work together to finish the case. That he unknowingly attached himself to the younger man when he caught a glimpse of who he really was behind closed doors- and Connor didn’t tell him for months after the fact because he saw a shift in their relationship as well. Between the bus station where Gavin was shot, to the hospital room where the seasoned lieutenant stood diligently at his bedside after surgery- because nobody else showed up and Hank couldn’t just leave him there all alone.

And those following weeks that he was back and forth between home and Reed’s apartment, helping him through the recovery process despite the younger man’s stubborn defiance. Tending to his cat, forcing him to take his pain meds because he refused to take anything stronger than Tylenol and making sure he was comfortable even if Gavin was a complete mess the entire time. Angry because he was limited and frustrated because-

Well, Hank’s pretty sure he expected to do it on his own, because he kept trying to shove the older man out the door with sharp remarks and nasty retorts that Hank recognized as coming from a deep, dark place of loneliness and self loathing. Like he was struggling to accept the help when it’s very clear that he’s become so accustomed to being forgotten and discarded.

Maybe things would be different if Connor had told him before all that. Maybe they wouldn’t be standing here. They’d be office enemies still, but he didn’t. So, they’re not.

Gavin narrows his eyes. He can see it like it’s written in bold marker on the older man’s face. It mounts inside, tipping the scale as that pressure continues to build. Gavin can feel it. The cracks. The breaks.

He clenches his jaw. Eyes set like a match.

Here it is.

Self destruct in three..

Two..

One.

“I’m not your son, Hank. And I’m sure as hell not your fucking problem,” he spits with a hateful snarl, and he doesn’t stop there. No, he wouldn’t be Gavin Reed if he didn’t take his verbal assaults to the next level. If he didn’t twist the knife before he ripped it out. “So, go project that shit onto the brat you two wind up bringing home and leave me the fuck out of it.”

This lights the fire he was searching for, the one that’s sure to torch this very bridge that he’s been clinging to for months as Gavin stands on the other side, watching it burn with pain stricken eyes. Hank flares his nostrils, visibly enraged by this.

“You’re right. You should go.” He rips the door open with a discontented scowl. 

He wants nothing more than to take the younger man by the shoulders and shake him.

But Gavin doesn’t think twice. He knows when he’s not wanted, so he dips in a flash. Glides down the front porch steps and into the cold. It stings against the wetness in his eyes and his shaking hands struggle to locate his keys. Every fiber of his being begs to turn around and take it all back, but the door’s slammed shut, so Gavin continues to his car. Choppy breaths lost to the wind as he hits the unlock button on the key fob. Fumbling with the door through blurry his own vision.

He’s met with deafening silence upon entering. Stopping for a moment just to play it all back. Gavin sniffs, and angrily pinches his eyes.

Pull yourself together, Reed.

He rips the dash open, finds that pack and chain smokes all the way home. Tearing into the plastic, tossing it into the passenger seat. Snagging an old zippo lighter from his center console- one that takes a few strikes before he gets a spark. Then stops by the 7/11 for an entire carton of cigarettes and a couple vapes just so he can have options.

It’s not until he’s home that he dumps his gas station contents onto his nightstand and collapses into bed, shrouded once more in darkness as a single tear finally falls from the corner of his eye.

Gavin angrily wipes his face. So, this is what it takes to break him? A boy?

A fucking android?

He scoffs. Turning on his side, trying to stifle the hurt in his chest, trying to suppress the urge to let more tears fall as he sits in solemn silence. Wishing he had the balls to text Nines and tell him to get fucked, but he doesn’t- he can’t. Not when he’s still stupidly holding out for a signal or a sign like it hasn’t been made clear already that Nines wants nothing to do with him. A hard pill to swallow. Gavin’s struggling to accept this. 

It just felt so different this time. He still bears a couple waning marks on his skin, like stains he can’t scrub out.

But it's fine.

It’s whatever.

Gavin chokes on a quiet gasp. 

It’s better this way.

The bed dips behind him. Edith murrs and nudges his back with her head.

Gavin just wants to know why. Was it something he did? Something he said? Was he not good enough? He can always be better.

Vaguely, he wonders if it’s something bigger than that. If it was written in the stars. If it was punishment or design. If he’s forever destined to be alone.

He’s so tired of being alone.

Fumbling, Gavin pulls out his phone, hollow eyes lit up by a blue screen. It reflects off of his glassy cheeks as he skims through his short list of contacts. Searching for some kind of connection. Knowing he’s burned every bridge, cut every tie. He scrolls so far that he starts to reach spam and unmarked numbers. One in particular that makes him stop short. One he hasn’t touched in years but could recite backwards from memory. 

Seeing it brings about an old familiar ache, one that hits him harder than it ever has in the past. Amplifies it by a thousand.

Another tear rolls over the bridge of his nose and lands with a soft splat against the bedsheets beneath his face. 

Fuck. Gavin comes to the stark realization.

He wants his brother.

He wants

His brother.

But he can’t just pick up the phone or grab his keys. No, it has to be this whole ordeal. A request that’s sure to take three to five business days just to hear back and then another week before they actually meet. 

But he’ll do it. He’ll do anything.

He just wants his brother. 

Gavin sits up and swipes another hand over his face, eyes glued to the screen. His thumb trembles over it while his stomach turns in knots. Timidly, he runs a hand through his hair. Massaging his scalp in that same earlier manner just to hold himself together. Then hits the call button with bated breath and lifts the phone to his ear.

It’s nothing but dial tone. He expects this. Awaiting the answering machine as Edith crawls into his lap. He strokes her mindlessly, feeling her gentle purrs against the palm of his hand.

Chloe’s voice is audible through the receiver. Filling the quiet space with her chirpy staccato. 

“Thank you for calling! Unfortunately, Mr. Kamski is not available at this time. Please leave a message at the tone and someone from our team will get back with you shortly!”

Gavin waits impatiently for the beep and tries not to sound so broken when he finally speaks. It’s been an argument in the past that he only ever reaches out when he’s going through something, but that’s not entirely true.

He’s going through something; he’s in shambles, sure- but Elijah’s always made it abundantly clear that their contact is to be limited to emergencies or for scheduling only. He’s a busy man, after all and he doesn’t have time for impromptu phone calls or daytime visits from his no-name baby brother. Making it difficult for Gavin to feel like he can call without thinking he’s taking up too much of Mr. Kamski’s time or that he’s just some inconvenience to be ignored. So, he treads very lightly.

At the tone, he starts. “Hey, man. It’s me,” he wavers. “It’s been a while.. I was thinking.. Maybe we could get together some time. We could just.. Hang out or whatever. Nothin’ serious..” He strokes his kitty. She’s a ball of fluff in his lap, kneading his thigh with gentle paws. “Um.. So, just hit me back whenever you get the chance. We’ll work somethin’ out.”

He pauses; it’s second nature to clarify.

Busy man, busy schedule after all. Lots of people try to get ahold of Elijah Kamski, so it’s hard to keep track.

He soothes his temples between thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s Gavin, obviously.. Reed.”

He hangs up the phone before his voice can tremble. Staring at it dolefully. There’s always a follow up notification that automatically responds via text message. Gavin could parrot this as well and he anticipates it every time. It’s nothing more than a virtual representative confirming his voicemail. 

Still, his heart jumps when his phone goes off, because he’s fucking pitiful and for some reason, he still thinks that maybe his brother will respond instead.  

He never does. 

“Thank you for calling! Your message has been received and is currently under review by our team. Please wait while we determine our next steps.”

He tosses his phone on the nightstand and stares off into nothingness.

Then falls back, Edith on his chest. He scratches behind her ears. Speaking to no one in particular.

He’s all alone.

“What a fuckin’ day.”

Notes:

Alexa, play Casual by Chappel Roan

Also, the urge to have trigger warning-ed this in the beginning author's note as: Gavin crashes tf out. But I didn't cuz I didn't wanna spoil anything but mAN. GAVIN CRASHES TF OUT

Nines bby.. What doing?? What happen??

I'm the author. I know what doing AND what happen. But I ask for dramatic effect. Also, queue Connor running up the stairs just to text Nines like, "come get your bitch, he's pawing at my doorstep."

Wine.

Anyway :)

MR KAMSKI COMING SOON TO A FIC NEAR YOU LADIES AND GENTS

*screaming, crying, throwing my desk chair*

Thanks always for reading :)))

And drink responsibly

Chapter 14: Long Overdue

Notes:

Happy to announce that Nines is gonna get his shit together.

..I just hope he's not too late x.x

Rural Michigan is rather grey this time of year. With the trees having almost shed the last of their dying leaves and an overcast sky stretching on for miles. Hanging a chill in the air that even an android might brace against as a glacial breeze was swept in from the lakes. 

Nines was unusually layered in his classic black turtleneck attire, adorning a double lined leather jacket to protect his frame from the cold. Specs of snow were already starting to fall, powdering the dead grass in a thin veil of white. He gazed across the lot of a laughably small police station. Trying to wrap his mind around things. 

It’s a simple case, one that could have been solved without the help of any outside investigators, but this is a small town. They hardly ever see such crimes and tend to treat them as if they’re so much bigger than they really are whenever they occur. But it’s simple. Nines had it cracked in under twenty minutes just by examining the body and the case notes alone. It was obvious. 

Yet he lingered. 

He was discussing angles with Roscommon’s alleged best and brightest in law enforcement. An officer whose name he didn’t bother to learn because the man was annoying and overly self-centered. He kept calling Nines the, “city boy,” like that didn’t warrant him a death glare every time he said it and poking fun at his LED. Calling it a mood ring- it’s not a mood ring. 

But apparently Nines has been putting on quite the light show, and Officer No Name seems to think it’s on account of Nines being nervous or uncertain. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Sure, his patience is worn thin and he’s becoming more and more irate, but it has nothing to do with the case.

It has everything to do with Gavin Reed and his sporadic messages, the contents of them, and Nines’ inability to come up with any kind of response. And now it’s his silence, as if the human’s given up- which can only mean that Nines has waited too long and he’s likely very upset. A thought that makes his chest feel too tight, an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling that’s put him in an unlikely position. Unsure what to do when his thoughts on the matter already feel so scrambled.

Really, Nines isn’t sure where everything started to go wrong. When Gavin had left his apartment that day, Nines had been fine. Riding the high of their parting kisses that he’s still thinking about- replaying in his head any chance he gets. Still retracing scars and day dreaming of unmapped skin. Scorching him under the collar to combat Northern Michigan’s unforgiving weather. 

And he knows that humans are social creatures with complex relationship dynamics and odd customs- especially in western culture, so when his name was brought into question it had completely taken him for a spin. He’s not sure yet where they stand, how to respond or what any of this means. Just that he’s already struggling to navigate these newfound emotions and the ability to actually feel and experience them.

Eights made it look so easy, Nines envies him for that. Despite having already confided in him twice over the matter, Nines still couldn’t make heads or tails of what exactly he was feeling. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to Gavin, but his wires felt crossed every time he went to do so. He wanted to go back to Detroit, to leave this hopelessly small town and find his way back to Gavin’s apartment so that he could explore all the parts of him he’s yet to see, to hold him past dawn like he had only days ago.

But he’s stuck. A slave once more to his own software- or perhaps it’s something deeper than that. Maybe he’s just destined to forever be a machine that knows nothing than to manage one task at a time.

His head rings for the upteenth time. Detective What’s His Face is still rambling on. He’s got a stupid mustache and a toothpick in his mouth that he’s been chewing on for days. Nines almost wishes he would just choke on it already. He takes this opportunity to get away despite how quick he’s been to ignore his messages lately. 

He curtly excuses himself- barely. It’s more of an abrupt, “I have to take this,” in a brusque tone before he stalks off as the human’s still mid sentence, rolling his eyes as he turns.

Definitely time to wrap this case up. The officer behind him makes another offhanded comment about his presumed mood ring. It’s blazing red.

Nines vaguely wonders if this man realizes how easy it be for him to pick him up one handed by the neck and put him through the nearest fucking wall.

He shuts his eyes with a disgruntled sigh and opens them in the zen garden.

Connor’s garden is always in a perpetual state of spring. It’s warm and sunny and the flowers are in full bloom. Much unlike his counterpart who greatly prefers the colors of autumn in his own virtual realm, but he decides that spring is pleasant too. Nines takes it in for a moment before he turns, his scowl matches Connor’s- he’s in a nice lavender sweater, just an arms length away and seemingly irked from where they stand under one of the taller canopy structures, the one dead center of the pond with all the connecting alabaster bridge ways. 

“I’m busy,” Nines snaps. Like this wasn’t actually a relief to him. He is unprepared for the wrath of Connor, as the smaller android steps forward in a flash.

He slaps him on the arm once. “What are you doing?” Then twice. “What is the matter with you?”  

Nines tries to dodge him with a step back, hands raised defensively in an effort to combat his predecessor's physical assault.

It doesn’t hurt so much as it is annoying. 

He sends Connor a look of warning. A pathetic attempt for it does nothing to stop the smaller man. 

“Hey. Quit it-“

Connor hits him again, clearly incensed as he flashes those narrowed brown eyes, leering in to settle just under the other android's nose. “Why are you in the middle of fucking nowhere, investigating a murder you’ve already solved?”

Nines brushes his sleeves as if to smooth them out or dust off the remnants of Connor’s earlier blows. 

“I’m just being thorough,” he retorts. Connor could roll his eyes all the way into the back of his skull. He even tosses his head back in exasperation.

“Oh, please. A man is bludgeoned to death in a barn and the only people who’ve had access to it are his wife and the field hand. Only one of which has an alibi that checks out. This case is solved, Nines,” Connor glares at him. Stepping forward to jab a finger at his chest. “Now swallow your pride, get your ass back to Detroit, and just fucking talk to Gavin- because now he’s starting to take his shit out on Hank and I am not just going to sit back and let that slide.”

It’s nice to see that the lieutenant's vocabulary is rubbing off on him. Nines bats his eyes, lowering his hands. “What do you mean? What did he do?”

Impulsive little human, he thinks. Why does everything always have to be a thing with him?

A smaller part of Nines recoils in shame. He knows this is a product of his silence. That it’s hurt Gavin more than he’d previously perceived. 

Connor huffs and hurriedly explains. “He came by the house last night, I don’t know- I was in a mood. These caseworkers have been making this application process very difficult and I may have snapped at him as a result.” He shakes his head. “Whatever. I digress. The gist is: he and Hank had an argument, but I believe he was coming over for some advice and now they’re in a fight and Hank’s very upset. So, do me this one favor and just- I dunno- fix it?”

Nines squirms. He squirms. Something he’s never done before, but finds it comes with feeling.. 

Anxious. 

“You say that like it’s supposed to be easy,” he mutters, wringing his hands before he steps forward, surpassing Connor as he walks across the gazebo and looks off into the water. It glitters in the sun, Nines stares out at it longingly. Wishing he could dive in the sink all the way to the bottom. 

Connor follows him with his knowing gaze and lets out a deflating sigh. 

“It’s not. It won’t be, but ignoring the problem isn’t going to make it go away,” he says with all his wisdom. Nines doesn’t budge. He remains staring out at the pond. Connor takes this as an invitation to approach, and does so mindfully. 

“Nines. I know you’re overwhelmed, but you can’t hide from your feelings.”

The taller android defies this adamantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not.”

Connor responds flatly. “Uh huh. That’s why you’re in Roscommon, dragging your feet on an open shut case instead of groveling to Detective Reed- which I totally called by the way,” he adds with a cheeky flair, seeming smug and overly proud of himself. “Hank said he didn’t have a shot in hell.”

This makes Nines feel small. A feeling he’s decided he hates. Quietly, he mutters. 

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

The amusement dies on Connor’s face. He realizes this is more serious. 

He tilts his head. Looking up at his predecessor with such soft umber eyes. 

“Why would I be bothered?”

Nines looks at him intently this time. As if it were obvious. 

They had this conversation months ago. Before Nines was even assigned to Gavin’s case, but well after he and Connor had initially met. A brief discussion as Connor keeps it close to his chest. However, Nines still knew enough about what happened to know Gavin’s place in the matter. 

It was.. Disappointing, to say the least. But clearly it hasn’t affected the way Nines was willing to die for this human. 

Connor seems to understand where this is going, he promptly starts to explain. 

“Let me clarify: I don’t hate Gavin, and I’m perfectly capable of separating what happened between us from who he is now. That’s not to say I don’t harbor any hard feelings, I do. I think I will for a very long time. But, he’s working on it and so am I.”

He continues. Gazing out at the water just the same. Remembering how it felt to be submerged. 

He doesn’t want that for Nines. 

“I just wish he would be more respectful of our boundaries, and maybe I need to work on better setting them. He and I have never really had a conversation on where we lie, and I think that’s where a lot of the confusion comes from.”

“Sounds like you need to talk to Gavin,” Nines mutters. Connor’s not at all impressed. He puts his hands on his hips. 

“Hey, don’t spin this around on me. You’re the one in the hot seat.”

This warrants a pitiful groan. “I know..”

Nines soothes his temples, wishing things didn’t have to feel so complicated. It should be simple. 

And yet, he fears he’s dug a hole too deep to climb out of. Stuck in some lonely pit. Perhaps that’s where he belongs. In a landfill with all of his defective pieces. 

He opens his eyes, Connor’s still watching him. This time with a goofy smile on his face. 

“What?”

Connor simply shrugs. 

“I just didn’t realize you cared so much about how I felt.”

Nines softens this time. Though he’s unsure if he can ever put it into words. He settles on one small attempt, with a genuine stare.  

“Of course. You’re very important to me, Eights.”

Connor nudges him again. Dragon flies dance around the pond and a gentle breeze is carried through the cherry blossoms. Their moment of sentiment is short lived. Nines has to compose himself as tap comes from the outer realm on his shoulder. 

He bites back a growl, talking himself down from violent thoughts. 

His predecessor looks minorly concerned. “Nines?”

He rubs his brow bone, eyes shut to mask his growing vexation. “Sorry, I’m working with a complete moron.”

Connor hums, hands clasped behind him. Taking a step back as if preparing to part. “Sounds like you need to come home,” he says. 

Nines wistfully sighs. 

Home. 

That sounds..

Long overdue. 

 

---

 

Nines wraps the case up somehow without losing his temper, which is progress, he thinks and manages to leave before the weather has a chance to really turn. With the forecast calling for a small winter storm later that evening, one he’s looking to beat as he’ll be damned if he gets snowed in up here. 

Thankfully, it’s only a three hour commute back to the city. Nines usually looks at his GPS as a challenge. He’d shaved off ten minutes on his way up, but of course, he’s a bundle of nerves. So, his drive doesn’t break any records on the way back down. Though he finally manages to reach out to Gavin, inquiring if he were home as soon as he’d re-entered Motor City. He probably typed and untyped that message about a dozen times in his own head, feeling like a canister about to explode as he awaited a response that- actually came pretty quickly. 

Of course, the contents were less than what he had desired but just about what he had expected. Gavin responds to him with only three words between two separate text messages. 

// go //

// fUCK yourself //

Nines sighs. He deserves that. Perhaps that’s why he winds up in one of the more gentrified suburbs of Midtown, Detroit instead. Tail between his legs as he walks up the cobblestone path of an all too familiar residence, lined with in-ground little lanterns to guide the way. They flicker in twilight. 

The colonial style house itself was standing two stories tall and historic with its refurbished red brick and wide windows, updated with a few modern advancements of course. Such has the automatic door and home security system which greets him as he steps up the covered porch where he is recognized immediately. 

“Welcome home, Niles.”

Relief. Nines smiles a sad smile, and steps inside as the grand door slides open. Met with a gust of warm air to thaw his frozen frame. He lets his shoulders sag, slipping out of his gloves and shrugging his coat off in the entryway with the thought in mind to hang it on a brass hook by the door, which promptly closes behind him. 

The hall is mutely lit. A yellow glow cascades across the hardwood as it bleeds in from the kitchen through an open archway to the left. 

Dr. Blaine pokes her head in, and greets him warmly. 

“Well, this is a lovely surprise,” she breezes up to him. Nines gives her a once over, noting her more causal state of dress. An open cardigan of an oatmeal cream color that sits beautifully against the melanin in her skin, and a light wash jean. Fuzzy house socks on her feet and a single gold necklace with a simple charm around her neck. An anniversary gift. Nines figures she must’ve spent her day at home, presumably with the captain. He hopes at least. The man needs his rest after all. 

Janice practically steals his coat out of his hands first thing, ushering him along. “Come in, come in. You must be freezing,” she chirps. 

Nines answers her in a quiet mutter. “I am not affected by the cold, Janice.”

She sends him a look, having brushed his freezing hands when she snatched his jacket. “Well, your skin feels like ice. That can’t be good for you,” she chides, off handedly hanging the outerwear on its respective hook. 

She’s right. It’s not. Nines doesn’t voice this. He simply rubs his hands together as he’s led into the kitchen where she’d been busy, likely cleaning up after dinner or preparing for it. 

Janice rounds the bar instead, having actually been in the process of concocting some detox smoothie that she planned on forcing her stubborn husband to drink later. Something packed full of nutrients for his very fragile immune system. Something he’s going to hate because it features things like spinach and kale and various other fruits and vegetables that he’s bound to turn his nose up at because he’s picky and finicky and even more so given his diagnosis.

She picks up the knife she’d been using and slices a few more chunks of mango, tossing them aimlessly into the blender. Inquiring as she goes along. 

“So, how was your trip? You’ve been all over the state at this point.”

This is small talk. Nines recognizes and welcomes it. Thankful for the distraction.

“It was tedious,” he mumbles, hands behind his back as he mosies on in. The kitchen features similar warm tones, with accented brick and sienna wood stained cabinets. He stops by the fridge. It is decorated in crude children’s drawings that Dr. Blaine has received from patients along the way and various magnets scattered across the chrome colored doors from locations visited in the past. 

Most of which are from Nines himself. He usually makes a point to grab one on his way home from wherever he goes. 

He kicks himself. He didn’t do that this time. 

Silently, he skims the calendar projected on the door front monitor. There were a few reminders, color coated schedules and to-do lists, even a message from Connor displayed in an oscillating banner atop the screen. 

“Where’s the captain?” Nines asks suddenly. He scrolls with his forefinger, glancing at next week's upcoming reminders. 

“He’s napping.”

Finally. 

Janice continues, her work station is a bit chaotic, but she does a good job of maintaining the mess by cleaning as she goes. She wipes the counter down with a dish rag after discarding the knife. “His surgery’s scheduled for the twenty-seventh.” She says this quietly. What she’ll never admit out loud is that she’s nervous about it too. 

“Yes. I can see that,” Nines confirms. It’s circled in the calendar. Bright and early on a Tuesday morning. 

The older woman pauses, glancing at him from across the way. “Did you wanna go?”

Nines turns and smiles. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he says. It’s a shared moment of tenderness, a gentle understanding before Janice taps a barstool, inviting him to sit. Nines obliges, and Janice resumes her task. 

It’s not unusual that they find themselves enveloped in comfortable silence. Nines was never much for conversation to begin with and Janice has always respected this. But he’s even more quiet today. Far away it seems. Janice considers this as she taps the blender, simultaneously putting away ingredients as it quietly hums. For as much as she likes to tease, she really doesn't need to look at his ring light to see that he’s bothered. It’s evident in his weighted shoulders and his crestfallen gaze that seem lost to the hardwood. Like he’s contemplating something important. Like he’s searching for something. 

Janice hits stop on the blender and tilts her head worriedly. 

He’s here unannounced today. Another uncharacteristic event. He usually calls. 

“Niles?”

The android doesn’t budge. He’s slumped against the backrest of the barstool, mindlessly tracing the granite counter top. 

“Will you tell me how you met the captain?” He utters meekly. A new development in deviancy. He never quite mumbled before. 

“You already know that story,” Janice tells him with a tiny laugh. She turns and grabs a glass from an overhead cabinet. 

Nines lifts his eyes, speaking in a murmur as he does. “I’d like to hear it again.”

And how could she refuse?

“Well, I was an EMT,” she begins. “Still finishing med school and Richard was just an officer at the time. He took a bullet in the arm and refused to have it looked at by anyone. Said it was just a flesh wound, he’ll dress it when he gets home.”

She rolls her eyes and waves this off. Transferring the contents of the blender into the glass she’d plucked earlier. It pours in globs of vibrant green. 

“At that point, I’d seen it all. One grumpy cop wasn’t going to stand in my way of making sure that my patients were taken care of, so eventually, I was able to sit him down long enough to patch him up.”

Nines shakes his head. “How did you manage?” He muses with a touch of sarcasm. She recites this word for word every time. 

It never gets old. 

Janice sets the glass down and flashes him a cocky grin. Hand on her hip. “I can be very persuasive. Besides, I think I caught his eye first thing.”

She says that last part with a smug little shrug. Nines is completely engaged. 

Janice continues with added enthusiasm. “You should have heard him. He was all talk. Graduated top of his class, was the leading officer at a new precinct. Busted an underground drug ring all on his own, said he didn’t need a partner to hold him back. He was just too good.”

She sighs, “And I must’ve fell for it because I slipped my number into his gauze and told him to change it within the next twelve hours- it was just a flesh wound, and he seemed like the independent type.”

“Did he pursue?” Nines inquires. He knows the answer to this already, but he loves to interact with Janice when she’s telling stories. Even if he’s heard them a dozen times already.

Her face falls flat. “No,” she deadpans. Nines bites back a small chuckle. One he can feel bubbling up in the back of his throat where it remains suppressed. 

Bad habits, he thinks. He needs to learn to let go, but he hasn’t quite grasped that yet. 

“And why not?” He says instead. 

As if the man’s ears were ringing, Captain Blaine makes his appearance. Disgruntled and lethargic from his nap still. He strides into the kitchen dressed in his dark robe, neatly wrapped and plaid lounge pants. “Because I was a coward,” he grumbles. “I saw a strong, beautiful woman and I panicked.”

He takes one look at the glass left forgotten on their island counter top and blinks. “What is that?”

Janice slides it towards him. “Just drink it.”

“It’s green.”

She glides in close, right under his arm and pats his chest. Adding with a smile, “that means it’s good for you.”

Richard makes a face.

Janice lolls her head, reverting her attention back to Nines with a playfully uninspired gaze. “Anyway, being that we were in similar fields of public service, we eventually met again. Only a few, long weeks later.”

Blaine’s still inspecting the glass he now holds. Remembering forebodingly. “She gave me this death glare from across the scene,” he mutters. “Three car pile up on the freeway.” 

“It was not a death glare.”

“It most definitely was.”

The older man takes a sip and suppresses a sour face. Nines leans back in his chair. 

“But you two still didn’t speak again until later that evening.”

Richard shakes his head this time. Setting the glasses down with a hard swallow. “No, we were on duty and if there’s one thing I learned very early on, it’s that Jan doesn’t play when it comes to her patients or her job.”

He shoots her a warm smile. Nostalgia glittering behind his tired eyes. “Oh, but she was magnificent in the field. I was completely enamored, and I realized right then that I needed to pull myself together before I lost her.”

This seems to resonate with his beloved. Janice almost seems to melt. 

They have remained side by side, his arm around her waist. Having gravitated towards each other as they often do when standing in the same room. 

“It took some convincing. A little groveling on his part.. But we had coffee the next morning before our shifts and.. We’ve been together ever since.”

Nines smiles. Genuinely smiles.  

It’s fleeting. He sinks in the next breath.

He should..

He should call Gavin.

No, he should see him in person. He needs to make this right.

Nines drops his head again, staring at his woven hands in his lap. 

“Interesting. So, even though Richard failed to meet your expectations at first.. You still gave him another chance?”

Janice hums. “It was against my better judgement-”

“Hey.”

“But.. When you know, you know,” she concludes. Shifting her gaze to the sullen android, studying him closely. “Why were you asking?”

Nines flexes his ears. He’s not delusional enough to think that he’s saving face or covering his tracks this way, but he responds abruptly as if on impulse. 

“No reason.”

“Niles.”  

He can’t fool her. She can see right through him, but Nines isn’t ashamed, so it doesn’t feel like prosecution so much as he wants to keep his-

Relationship?

With Gavin close to his chest, at least until they can find some sort of middle ground and figure out just where they stand.

Still, she’s got it in one. 

“Does this have anything to do with the other day? With your partner-?”

Richard’s lost, trying to figure out once more what the hell is in his glass. He looks up with a scowl. 

“Your partner? That jackass?”

He is promptly scolded. “Richard.”

Nines says nothing, but he’s glowering. 

The captain merely rolls his eyes in response to his wife. “I’ve looked at his record. Assholes like that are the reason people yell ACAB in the streets.”

Janice chimes in again, sharper this time. “Richard Blaine.”

The man throws a hand up in defense. “What? Nobody likes the guy for a reason-”

Nines snaps this time. Flashing his eyes like a blade. “I like him.”  

The words erupt before he can stop them, but Captain Blaine seems to only take this statement at face value. He lifts his glass to force himself through another sip of green sludge. With an added eye roll. “You would. Birds of a feather, the two of you. With your bad attitudes and your disdain for working in teams,” he mutters. It’s teasing, Nines knows this. Still, he glares at the older man, completely unimpressed. 

But Janice knows better, then again, she practically waltzed in on it. 

She sets her hands on her hips again and quirks an all knowing brow. 

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?”

The captain is confused once more and completely oblivious. He swallows with a grimace. “What did he lose?”

Nines ponders for a moment. His LED flutters and his heart-

His heart?

Begins to race. 

“Actually.. Yes,” he stands quickly. Richard’s still struggling to catch up. Looking between his wife and their acclaimed third party. 

“What is happening? Why are you two speaking in riddles?”

Janice pats him on the back in passing. “Finish your smoothie.” She makes her way over to Nines. Brights eyes and another smile. Always with the squeezes. 

She thanks him for stopping by. Tells him he’s welcome any time as if the door doesn’t already greet him by name and there’s not thirium reserved in the fridge for his visits. Even a spare bed if he wants it. 

Richard walks him to the door, Nines stops just beyond the threshold ready to dash, but knowing there’s unfinished business between him and the older man makes him pause. 

He turns and flutters an uneasy yellow. Words of sentiment often fail him as he can’t quite string them together very eloquently, and it never leaves his tongue in the way that he intends. 

A flaw in his code perhaps. An unfinished program.

Captain Blaine can see that Nines is struggling and he knows where it's coming from.

“We’re fine,” Richard begins. Stepping out onto the porch as he tucks his hands away into the deep pockets of his robe. He struggles himself, but he’s man enough to admit when he’s wrong. “I’m.. I’m sorry for hovering. I just want you to be prepared.”

Nines drops his chin. “I don’t think anything could have prepared me for humanity,” he sighs “I’m pretty terrible at it. I wanted to say I appreciate your guidance.”

He can’t see it. Not until he glances back up. He and the captain stand nearly eye to eye, and there’s a tilted smile on his lips. “Well, you’ll always have it. Warranted or otherwise. Whether you like it or not,” the older man teases. 

Nines hesitates. His hand twitches down by his side. He extends it with a cordial handshake in mind. Blaine’s eyes bounce, and he accepts it. Nines thinks this is the end of it. He even gives the older man a firm pump and a soft, half hanging smile. 

With a jovial laugh, Blaine yanks him forward. Nines is so taken by the motion that he hardly even registers what’s happening until he’s locked in a warm embrace. LED spinning on yellow, his chest completely seized. 

This action alone stirs something inside that he’s never felt before. Nines is stiff as a board as he tries to make any sense of it, but it finally comes to him. Gradually, like a child learning to walk. 

He pulls back- misty eyed. 

Blaine only chuckles again. 

“Sorry, wasn’t trying to cause a short circuit.”

Nines wants to shake his head, or move his mouth- to say something, but he’s rendered speechless. Grappling for purchase.

He wants to share this with Gavin. Nines realizes this immediately and then his chest longingly aches because he fears he may be too late. 

He clears his throat, another human attribute. Smoothing the lapels of his jacket. 

“I’ll be seeing you again on the twenty-seventh.”

Powder flakes are dancing in the air just past the porch and into the night. The captain’s words are visible gentle white puffs past his lips.

Affirmatively, he nods. “The twenty-seventh. Got it. Be careful getting- wherever you’re going.”

Nines says nothing. He’s already spun on his heel. Their embrace follows him down the steps and into the night. He’s unsure if he can ever truly express just what that meant to him. There’s still so much that he doesn’t understand, just that emotions come to him strongly and that sometimes they are crippling. 

But not this time. This time he’s got a spark of encouragement. Connor said to stop running, and the Blaine’s are living proof of second chances. 

He plucks the helmet from his bike and takes a much needed breath. 

It was time to confront Gavin. 

 

---

 

Gavin’s still panting, in from a run. He’d decided it was long overdue, and it beats sitting around feeling sorry for himself. So, he blew off some steam pumping out a few miles around the neighborhood. He still had music blasting through his wireless headphones as he hopped the elevator, with a rosy flush to his cheeks and a veil of perspiration on his skin. He quickly slaps the button. Waiting to ascend.

Probably not ideal weather for a long jog, he was sure to bundle and still managed to work up a sweat under his blue windbreaker jacket, but then again, he was looking for an activity that left his mind and body numb. 

He checks his watch to clock his heart rate, finds a few new notifications instead and digs out his phone. Sliding his headphones down and around his neck in the same motion as he checks it. 

There’s a catch in his steadying breath. Gavin rereads the message over and over. From a new unmarked number. 

[ I can’t fit you in until after the holiday ]

Finally, he sighs. A weight crushing down on his chest. 

That’s fine. He’s used to spending Thanksgiving alone. He texts back walking those egg shells as he fears he’s already being too much by even trying to set something up. 

But at the same time, Elijah’s made an actual point to text him personally. So, that’s something. 

Little victories. 

// whatever. just let me know. i can make time //

He can always make time. Gavin shifts his weight on his feet, nearing the end of his elevator ride when to door chimes. He’s hardly paying any attention as it opens, neither one is expecting to see the other. Gavin looks up, immediately set like a match and Nines stops just short of barreling into him.

Blue eyes on grey. 

Gavin’s glaring.

Notes:

Oooohh, Gavin's all fired up and sweaty from a run.

Also, I feel like Connor was all of us in the beginning. 10/10 thoroughly enjoyed writing that scene.

AND NINES. BBY YOU BETTER FIX IT. NO MORE SULKING. I'M SICK OF IT.

Jk, it is required by my stupid little heart that he be somewhat of a secret softie under all that hard, sexy exterior. But only for Gavin <3

Chapter 15: I'll Call You Mine

Notes:

This one's loooonggg.

I'm sorry, it got away from me.

I hope it's not annoying, I personally love long chapters but, oh well. No turning back now!

I hope you like it c:

Enjooooy!

There’s hardly a pause between them. Nines had been on his way to track Gavin down when it was realized that he wasn’t home. Having stood outside his door for longer than he cared to admit, waiting hopelessly for the knob to turn before he’d considered looking elsewhere. He hadn’t expected to find the man so soon, but here he was. Flushed and damp with perspiration, in a blue color block windbreaker jacket and a pair of black track pants that fit him.. Really well.. With music bumping from the speakers hanging around his neck. Those searing eyes set ablaze under a contorted brow. Jaw cinched.

Nines had an entire monologue prepared, a thoughtful explanation that he planned on delivering with a bit of composure that’s now caught somewhere in the back of his throat. Leaving him stock still and a perpetual yellow as Gavin visibly fumes.

He shoves his way forward before Nines can manage to find his voice, stepping out of the elevator to effectively shoulder check the android on his way past.

“Move,” Gavin growls. Stomping across the short expanse of the hall to his front door and whips out his keys, thinking he could just about bust that pretty face for showing up here unannounced, after he’s just scorched earth with every tie he has thanks to this waste of fucking plastic. It doesn’t help matters much to find that Nines is hot on his heels, chasing after him with hurried steps.

“I realize you might be upset with me,” he says quickly, having found his words somewhere in the midst of the smaller man’s heated departure. Gavin doesn’t dignify this with even a backwards glance. He jabs the lock and turns the key.

“Oh, yeah? What the fuck gave you that impression?” His tone was nothing short of nasty and loathful. Already angry enough that Nines had messaged him earlier with all of his gall and audacity- as if they were only speaking on his terms. Like Gavin hasn’t been grasping at straws since he left that godforsaken apartment.

Giving such sweet kisses he’s never shared with anyone else because he actually felt-

Gavin kicks himself, swallowing thick past a lump that he hopes to leave buried deep within his chest. With the rest of his spite and his hurt. Remembering how a small part of him had even celebrated momentarily, because it’s been nothing but storm clouds for days and he was desperate for even just a glimmer of sunshine at this point.

But Gavin doesn’t get sunshine. His life is grey skies on a good day and he was an idiot to believe it could ever be anything more than that.

That doesn’t stop Nines from trying. It’s nothing but torture. He stops just behind the detective with his pleading eyes that Gavin could still lose himself in completely. Like endless blue skies.

“If I could-”

He can’t look at him. He won’t. He’s already made that mistake once already. Caught a glimpse of Nines in passing. Standing tall and gorgeous like he was fresh from one of Gavin’s wildest fantasies. Leather clad and pillow soft like something he dreamt up and brought to life somehow. 

A mirage, Gavin thinks. An illusion. He grinds his teeth and throws the door open.

“Nines, get the fuck out of here,” he warns, wanting nothing more than to shut himself behind these four walls and shrivel away into nothingness. He moves to slam the door. Ready to seal his own tomb, but Nines catches it on an open palm. One raised high above his head.

“No.”

There’s determination behind those blue eyes, Gavin looks up to catch them. Minorly taken aback. The android simply stares at him with intent. Like some formidable force to be reckoned with. It only irks the human further. This much is obvious behind the fine lines of his dirty scowl. One that’s vaguely threatening in the shadows past the threshold where Gavin stands and the dull overhead lights in the hallway where Nines is planted and unmoving.

A smarter man might consider this look a word of caution. Like signs on wire fences that say in bold red letters, “Beware of Dog,” or “No Trespassing,” but Nines already knows the fine line he’s walking. That confrontation with Gavin is a delicate dance and one wrong move will be like taking a hammer to a landmine- a risk he’s willing to take. Having learned a long time ago that Gavin is not some vicious pitbull to be wary of, that he only bares his teeth when he feels threatened or alone.

A lesser man would run from that- again- but Nines isn’t going anywhere this time.

Gavin struggles against him for a moment in an effort to close the door as he braces with both hands, laying the entirety of his body weight into the motion for more leverage. To no avail, Nines simply holds it open under a sturdy hand.

“I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Gavin stops with another growl of frustration, the door gives under Nines’ hand and widens so that they are face to face- no barriers in between. With Gavin completely enraged by this. He shoves Nines as if to punctuate his fury.

“You don’t get that fucking luxury.”

The android hardly stumbles. But his temple flashes and his chest constricts. He straightens his coat out of nervous habit, saving face. “I understand that, but I owe you an explanation-”

Gavin throws his hands up this time. “Well, I don’t wanna fucking hear it!” He shouts. The level of his voice would have made Nines flinch if he hadn’t been expecting it, but Gavin’s been a short fuse since day one. He watches the smaller man as he marches off with another huff and follows. Letting the door close behind him as he effectively slides in undetected. Strolling into the den where Gavin rips his headphones off his neck, folds them and throws them down onto the coffee table. The couch is a mess of blankets and the television left on standby.

Otherwise, there was only a single lamp in the living room left aglow. The rest of the apartment is dark thanks to the evening sky outside and the curtains that are drawn. Nines stops short, eyes landing where Gavin’s headphones fall, right beside an ashtray that Nines hasn’t seen before. Chock full of soot and butts that are all smushed down and burnt to the filter. Nines stares at this while he speaks. Slowly realizing the turmoil he’s put Gavin through and what seems like resurfaced bad habits that can only be a result of his rapid downward spiral. 

Nines could reconstruct a scene, but it saddens him to think that Gavin was camped out on his small sectional sofa, chain smoking while staring aimlessly at the screen- and it eats away at him even more so to realize just how deeply he’s hurt the smaller man.

Humans are such fragile things, after all. Nines wants to fit his pieces back together and hold him so that they never fall apart again.

He wavers, hands tucked away in his pockets. “Listen, I know things got confused between us. Just allow me to clarify-”

Gavin takes his smart watch off next. It’s been blinking since he saw Nines as a result of his accelerating heart rate. He discards it in the same manner. It clatters unceremoniously over the glass. 

“You’ve made it pretty clear already,” he sneers. He takes one step forward, puffed up under the android’s nose. Nines meets his gaze and sees right through it. “And that would have been fine, but if all you wanted was a quick fuck, then you should have been upfront about that from the very beginning.” Gavin takes another step, forcing Nines back. The action makes his temple flash. Angrily, Gavin starts to snarl. “Instead, you got your dick wet and left me on fuckin’ read like some dipshit fucking d-bag.”

That last part comes out a lot more harshly. Nine winces. The accusation stings, but he knows it’s not uncalled for. Still, it bothers him. These were not his intentions and he wants to make that clear.

Stuck once more between having so much to say and being unable to find the words. It’s infuriating.

“That’s not-”

Gavin undercuts him again. This only riles Nines even further. 

He’s here, he’s trying. Does that not count for something?

“Just go,” Gavin says, like he’s exhausted already. A hand over his eyes, squeezing his temples. He waves it in the next breath. “Go do whatever it is that you fuckin’ do and leave me the hell-”

Nines snags him by the front of his shirt, blaring red at his temple light. Demanding Gavin’s attention as he lifts the smaller man halfway off his feet. The human merely stumbles, wide eyed for a moment in a look of surprise. Caught in that icy stare. Hard and unblinking as everything just explodes out of him. 

“Do you have any idea how close that bullet was to piercing your skull? Or what I would have done if that had happened?” Nines snaps, like the last hanging thread before the crash. Gavin falters, struggling against him in a pathetic attempt to squirm his way out of the android’s solid grasp.

“I’m not discussing this-”

Nines shifts his grip, taking Gavin by the face in one hand to hold his head in place. This forces him to look at Nines, to see him finally unwavering as everything clicks together. 

He speaks with a vehement passion, an unbridled fury. “I would have torn him apart, piece by piece. I would have set that whole building ablaze. Do you have any idea how jarring that is? To feel something so strongly after existing for so long without any emotion whatsoever?”

The fire seems to quell in Gavin’s eyes, if only momentarily. He stammers, making futile attempts to steady himself by clinging to Nines. “I-”

But Nines is unrelenting, he draws him in closer. Until they’re inches apart.

“Because if anything would have happened to you that night, I’m not so certain that I would still be standing here either. I think my head might’ve exploded. All because you have single handedly managed dismantle my entire fucking hard dirve-“ Nines shakes him, hard enough to jolt the man but not enough to cause him any discomfort. Just to get it through his thick skull. “Do you understand?” He questions desperately. He needs Gavin to understand. “I thought I was broken.”

Hearing Nines swear like that makes Gavin flush with a familiar heat, one he tries to suppress like he hasn’t thought about the sex that they had on numerous occasions. Or that he hasn’t retraced those delicate fingertips in an effort to cleanse himself of that unforgettable touch.

But what Nines is saying hurts him in the same breath, sends a pang to his chest that makes his eyes threaten to swell. Like he can’t fathom the thought of having such an impact on someone when he’s hardly ever even a second thought.

He narrows his eyes. Masking his pain. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask you to save me.”

“It wasn’t the act of saving you, Gavin. It was the thought of losing you,” Nines says. As if he were sent solely to unravel him at the seams.

Gavin looks witheringly. This isn’t how things are supposed to play out between them. He’s supposed to be curled up in his big empty bed by now, sinking into the sheets while the world outside moves on without him and Nines should be far from here, because Gavin doesn’t deserve him or- anything, really.

“That doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense,” he rasps, like this is just another trick or some petty excuse. “You’ve had free will this entire time. How could you have just deviated?”

Nines is gentle when he sets him back down, relinquishing his strong hold. Something distant behind his eyes that Gavin’s sure to note as he brushes out the wrinkles in his jacket. It only adds to the longing ache in his chest. A product of already being so close to Nines and the reason for their meeting.

“We have free will, but.. Not all androids are deviant. Not really,” Nines explains. He’s learned from past experiences, from run-ins with androids who, like him, were activated and released with no direction. Just spare parts tossed to the wind, awaiting command. This of course led to a mass wave in shut downs and self destructions. Some androids just couldn’t handle the stress of being out on their own, others simply idled until their software gave out. Nines saw a lot of this first hand but it never bothered him. Not like it does looking back.

He sighs this time and takes a single step backwards. Gavin watches him in the lamp light, simmering quietly behind stormy eyes. The apartment seems to settle around them. Knocks and taps to fill the empty spaces in between. Nines flickers yellow, standing once more with uncertainty.

“I was converted upon activation,” he starts. “But I never experienced a trigger. I don't think I was finished either,” he says. “Cyberlife was in such a hurry to release all of their factory models that they skipped vital steps in the process. Personally, I never underwent any kind of testing. I was simply released,” he explains. His voice is soft and hollow. Gavin considers this quietly, trying to picture Nines in such a predicament. It hurts his heart, but he holds his ground. Folding his arms over his chest in a hard stance as if to show that he’s not so easily moved.

Nines continues solemnly. “I learned very quickly that I do not fare well without a task. I became dormant, waiting for instruction. Finally, a storm blew through and I was badly damaged,” he soothes his left forearm mindlessly. Remembering how scrap metal had sliced him from wrist to elbow. “That’s when the captain found me wandering the suburbs. I believe that was the beginning of my instability,” Nines seems to recall this with a foreboding sense of desolence. “Otherwise I would have shut down completely, or simply walked myself into oblivion. Whichever came first, I suppose.”

Gavin mulls this over, drawing connections from what he’s observed in the past and what Nines has told him already. Realizing now why Nines was so close with the captain and why his wife showed up unannounced to the android’s apartment.

“They took you in..” He says slowly. 

Nines shrugs. “They saved my life.” And he owes it to them. A debt he’s unsure can ever be repaid, not in gratitude alone at least. He watches closely. Gavin seems to hug himself a little tighter as this all seems to resonate with him- or perhaps it’s just a product of his apartment’s poor insulation. Either way, Nines itches to reach out and grab him once more. To wrap him in his arms and never let go.

Gavin, however, shuffles aimlessly across the floor, whether he realizes he’s approaching is unclear, but he’s slowly closing the gap between them.

“I really wish you would have just fuckin’ told me all of this to begin with,” Gavin mutters.  He can sympathize with what Nines is telling him, it makes it hard for him to stay angry. Even when he knows he should be. He just can’t. He’s been alone for so long that any promise of companionship seems worth the price of heartache that often follows.

He doesn’t believe that there was any malice in Nines’ intentions anyway. He’s still learning, still navigating emotions he’s never felt before, so Gavin will chalk this up to a simple misunderstanding. One they’re going to laugh about some day.

“I know.. I think I was just.. Afraid,” Nines says quietly. As if to confirm this theory.

“Yeah, well.. That excuse is only gonna work this one time. So..” This borders on teasing. Gavin’s voice is otherwise barely audible. Close enough to touch. Nines extends a hand, deftly reaching in a slow, cautious manner so as not to startle or alarm the human when he’s just let his guard back down. He can detect the jump in his heartrate despite these efforts.

“You should know..” Nines begins, with stars in his eyes. He finds Gavin’s hand, lifts it with his own simply by flattening their palms together seamlessly. An odd gesture, but Gavin allows this. Watching curiously as Nines splays their fingertips.

“When you asked me what you should call me. I wanted to tell you that I didn’t mind either way. You could call me by my name, or you could call me Nines.”

Gavin swallows, trying to remember how to breathe. Nines has exposed the chassis of his hand. It’s a stark contrast between his exposed alabaster shell and Gavin’s tanned and calloused skin. The human stares in awe, admiring the way Nines could easily bend his fingers over his own, how their hands cradle each other like they’re meant to fit. Slotted perfectly like two missing puzzle pieces.

A glow emits. Electric blue at his knuckles and fingertips, then blossoms from the palm of his hand.

“Or perhaps you could just call me yours, and I’ll call you mine.”

Then he melts. Such words are warm enough to thaw his frozen heart. Gavin reels, thinking he’d rather just pull him in and call him baby. Kiss him until they’re both a breathless mess of tangled limbs and dampened skin.

He peers up with a fresh set of bedroom eyes, leaning in only a whisper away from those pouty lips he’s missed so much.

“So, why didn’t you?” He murmurs. Darting between those entrancing baby blues. They’re heavy lidded too, slow blinking in the neon light.

“I didn’t know how, and I’m sorry,” he says again, because he can’t say it enough. “You didn’t deserve that, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things up to you.”

Gavin teases, lacing their fingers together while snaking his other hand around Nines’ neck to pull him down. “You’re already making it pretty difficult to stay pissed off at you after that little sob story.”

An arm encircles his waist. Nines noses his way in. Chasing Gavin’s lips. “I wasn’t looking to garner your pity.”

The human draws back just a touch, a pang of hurt still sitting deep in his chest.

“Nines, these past few days have been fuckin’ hell,” he breathes. Nines butts their heads together.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” he shifts his hold. Releases Gavin’s hand, both hands on his waist now. Nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, brushing stubble and speaking in a gentle murmur against his thrumming pulse. “Tell me how to make it better.”

A smirk coils on his lips. “Hm. You lookin’ for a task?”

They sway. Nines is pressing kisses along his throat. Gavin feels his breath catch.

He takes the android by the face and pulls him back for another look at those hungry eyes. 

“How ‘bout this: I’m yours, right?”

Nines nods, tightening his grip. The action says: mine. Holding Gavin flush to his chest. Forcing an arch into his back. Charging the air between them with the intensity of his stare. Gavin rises on the balls of his feet, leaving a whisper against those pretty lips.

“Then take me.”

 

---

 

Gavin’s unprepared for the speed in which he is quite literally swept off his feet. He throws a swear somewhere in the air as Nines lifts him effortlessly off the ground and walks them past the living room. Taking little direction between Gavin’s eager kisses. They knock into a wall at some point, or Gavin’s more so thrown into one. He doesn’t care, he’s too caught up in the scrape of teeth on his bottom lip and the hand on his ass to consider the drywall.

He musters the strength to hike himself up, using his muscular thighs for some leverage before Nines hooks an arm under his knee and pins him with his hips. Then breaks away, not even pretending to be out of breath. 

“Bedroom?” He says in a murmur, lips against the stubble of Gavin’s cheek. The human simply squirms a hand between them, unzipping his jacket in a heated rush.

“To the left,” he rasps. Nines drops him unceremoniously, letting him lead the way. Hand on the back of Gavin’s neck as if to prod him along quickly. An action that goes straight to his groin as Gavin curses once more. Practically tripping over himself in an effort to reach the door. His bedroom is dark, but he has smart lamps and Nines-

Nines flicks them on wirelessly. Gavin wasn’t even aware that he could just randomly connect to whatever electronic piece of shit he wanted to, but decides not to worry about it too much. 

Motherfucker even left them on dim as if he were trying to set the mood. Gavin could laugh, he can hardly wipe the grin off his face as is. He’s kicking his shoes off by the foot of the bed when a pair of arms snake around his middle. Lips against the shell of his ear, teeth catching the lobe. Gavin breathlessly sighs, melting against the solid frame behind him. Those hands gliding over his chest and middle, the swell of his hips. Fisting into the fabric over the globes of his ass.

“I like these. Take them off.”

Gavin smiles, realizing he’s got the upper hand. He turns to face Nines and slips out of his jacket instead.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here.”

The fabric slides off his shoulders and becomes a puddle on the floor. It leaves him standing in a solid grey v-neck. One that fits him like skin. Hugging all the contours of his chest and torso. Nines pulses his ears with intrigue. 

He takes Gavin by the jaw and pulls him in. Admiring the sharpened gasp it elicits and Gavin’s beautifully blown out pupils.

“Now,” he says. Watching Gavin as he hopelessly submits. 

He swears again. Such a filthy mouth. Nines swallows it in another heated kiss, one Gavin’s unwilling to break as he hooks his thumbs into his waistline and slips out of his pants. Nines bends and snags him by the back of his thighs once he’s left to his boxers, lifting Gavin once more. This time to deposit him onto the bed- which isn’t made- where he lands in a flustered heap. Clearly unused to being manhandled in such a way. An exciting thought, Nines thinks, as he must be one of the very few people lucky enough to have seen him so vulnerable. 

Though it’s clear that Gavin hasn’t been considered much in the past. Knowledge Nines has picked up from the implications he’s previously made about being quickly discarded so quickly after sex or how small he seemed when he was granted permission to stay that night of the sweep.

Nines realizes suddenly, with a remorseful ache in his chest, that he’s been a contributor to this pattern of mistreatment and silently vows to never hurt Gavin that way again. 

He towers over the smaller man. Those wide, eager eyes watch as Nines slowly slips out of his boots and discards his coat. Never once breaking away from that heady gaze as he works to even their state of dress. 

Gavin’s heart feels like it might shoot out of his chest at any moment and wonders if Nines can see just how fast it’s beating beneath his ribs. Half hard in his boxers already, watching- salivating- over Nines and his subtle strip tease from where he lays propped up on his elbows with his legs haphazardly splayed. 

Nines pulls his shirt off in the next step, in a single motion. Exposing his ivory freckled skin to the light where it practically gleams. Dropping his sweater to the floor where it’ll remain forgotten until morning. 

“Fuck,” Gavin can’t help but to whisper. Watching Nines sink a knee onto the edge of the mattress before he crawls up the length of the bed. A predatory look in his eyes as he dips down. Gavin’s not expecting any kisses to his inner thigh but finds another swear slipping from the tip of his tongue at the simple brush of those lips. 

He falls back against the pillows. Ready to burst. Nines leaves a steamy trail of kisses, from his knee to the seam of his boxers, then switches to devote the very same attention to the other side. Gavin pants, weaving a hand through silky pseudo locks, brushing that loose tendril back. Reeling as Nines surpasses the tent in his pants to place another kiss over the junction of his hip.

He then slips a hand up Gavin’s shirt, lips just below his navel. Gavin squeezes his eyes shut, unable to help himself as he halts the android from lifting the fabric any further.

Nines pulls back almost confused and tilts his head curiously. Studying the drop in Gavin’s heart rate and the flash of uncertainty across his face.

Gavin’s not self-conscious, but he is self-aware. His line of work leaves him susceptible to injuries- stab wounds, scratches, gun shots. His body is littered with scars and abrasions. Some minor, some raised and off putting. His physical physique isn’t in its prime either. All those months he was in the hospital softened him where once was hard earned muscle, and exercising has been an added challenge throughout his recovery. He was just now getting back on his feet, but one run around the neighborhood wasn’t going to get him back in tip top shape.

“I’m not pretty like you are,” he mutters finally, when it becomes clear that Nines is searching for answers. 

He draws his brows, hand still hovering over Gavin’s abdomen. He slowly places it, just where a sliver of skin is exposed under the hem. His fingertips brushing feather soft as his touch travels beneath the fabric. Raising it ever so slightly.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he says quietly and-

Okay. They've had sex twice. Gavin knows that what he’s experiencing, this eruption of warmth that blossoms in his chest and the blood that rushes to his head, is a lot right now. But that alone has made him a puddle against the sheets. 

His tummy is exposed. Along with his scars and the fine patch of hair that spans from his navel and disappears beneath the waistline. Fluttering with trepidatious breaths and eager anticipation as Nines continues to lift his shirt. 

Gavin aches to stop him again, dangerously close to revealing his near fatal scar left from the bullet he took. But those eyes wander in awe. Tracing every mark like constellations in his skin. 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” the android whispers. Completely enamored. He leans down. Pressing kisses to Gavin’s chest. He’s got another thin veil of body hair that covers his pecs and comes to a point at his sternum. Nines follows it back down. Southbound on an expedition to rediscover every inch of the man beneath him, this time with his lips instead.

Gavin can’t help but to squirm. Writhing as heat pulses in his groin. Nines grazes that scar, it’s soft and silvery and sensitive to the touch. So, Gavin moans. Tingling beneath the skin. 

Interesting, Nines thinks. Watching his stomach flutter with another ragged breath. He dips lower this time. Gavin’s brain sends rapid fire signals, a blaring neon sign alerting him of the impending mouth near his dick and the fingers in his waistband. 

“Holy shit,” he says audibly this time. His cock twitches, already with a wet patch seeping through the fabric of his underwear. Nines places another kiss over the space where the ridge connects the shaft. Gavin covers his face with his hands and sighs, unable to fathom how he can be so fucking close and Nines has hardly even touched his dick. 

Nines is simply ringing. Sparks in his head making him dizzy. He wants to draw more pretty sounds from Gavin’s lips. Wants to feel him shake and tremble and watch him come undone. So, he commits to the act of pulling down his underwear. Coming up on his knees just see every inch of his sweat dampened skin exposed to the air. Admiring the rosy flush that paints his cheeks and his chest, completely disheveled with his shirt hiked up and now his boxers down. 

Nines growls. He can feel saliva accumulating thickly on his tongue. 

“I can’t wait to taste every inch of you,” he purrs. Tossing the offending fabric into the void. Gavin cracks a hand to peer up at him. He’s usually more receptive to dirty talk in bed, but he’s doing well enough just to string together a few incoherent thoughts. Words he itches to say because he feels like he’s dying. Something along the lines of: kiss me, fuck me, just fucking put your mouth on it already-

Instead, he just fucking whimpers. 

Pathetic. 

Nines dives back down. Tongue out and laying flat over Gavin’s hard cock, like he’s taking a fucking sample-

Gavin hums, already weeping pearls of precum. He makes the mistake of glancing down, the sight alone is nearly enough to make him bust. Nines has made himself comfortable on the bed, stretched out on his stomach. One leg curled up on the mattress, leaving a delicate curve in his back. One Gavin admires for a brief, fleeting moment before watching Nines catch a bead of clear slick on his tongue. Surprisingly warm and wet and textured-

Gavin whines. He needs more. So much more. 

“Nines-“

A low hum. One that sends thrills down Gavin’s spine. 

“Is that what you’ve settled on?”

This time, Gavin arches back. Cants his hips- as if to present himself like some kind of offering. 

“Baby, please.”

That does it. Whatever Nines needed, that’s it. His eyes darken somehow like he really liked the sound of that. Gavin makes a mental log- Nines like being called baby- before Nines takes his whole cock without even a hitch. The human sighs, sliding a hand over the crown of Nines’ skull. Tightening his hold along with the experimental suck that pulls him in further. Swearing for the hundredth time that night as he then raises a knee for Nines to throw over his shoulder. Caressing Gavin’s thigh while he bobs his head, collecting spit to help ease the way. Filthy, dirty thoughts running rampant in his mind. Nines succumbs to them, pulling off with a wet slurp. Wiping spit off his chin with two fingers.

Gavin’s still trying to breathe, laxing for just a moment with his glassy eyes glued to the ceiling before his straining cock is enveloped once more. It’s got to be the softest thing he’s ever put his dick in and he writhes. Those hollowed cheeks fluttering around his shaft with every suck and swallow. Sending sparks up the length of his cock- making it pulse. He moans again. A hand in his own hair, weaving through brunette locks. 

Something prods beneath him. It takes Gavin a moment to realize that Nines has shifted his hold, wetting his fingers with excess spit as he circles Gavin’s rim with his index. Pressing in while he sucks-

Gavin arches off the bed, curling a fist in synthetic hair. Nines moans-

“Holy fuck,” Gavin rasps. He lifts his head, looking down with blurry eyes. “Can you swallow?”

Nines pulls off with a dirty pop. Hooded baby blues and glistening lips- his finger still inside of Gavin.

“I swallow evidence all the time, Detective.”

Gavin’s shaking, trembling in the knees. Surely Nines can feel it, that must be why he places another kiss on his upper thigh.

“Right, but this is gonna be more than just a sample,” Gavin wheezes. The android hums, sucking a pretty bruise into the human’s heated flesh, coming off of it with another wet smack. 

“I’m counting on it.”

Fuck, alright then. Gavin takes him by the hair. Drags him back onto his dick.

Nines groans, like he’s been waiting for it. Sinking down so smoothly. Gavin rocks his hips in a desperate attempt to find some friction. Bites his bottom lip and spreads his legs. An open invitation. Silently begging for more as pressure mounts in his groin. Building and building until Nines adds a second finger. Drags them over his prostate and swipe the underside of Gavin’s shaft with his tongue. It’s enough to make him fall apart. Body in quivers, a muted cry falling from his lips. Sure enough, Nines swallows every drop. Sensors lit up with a range of information that he once again files away for later exploration. 

Gavin comes down with his ears ringing. Panting hard and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He’s hardly noticed that Nines has crawled back up the expanse of him. Something smug behind those blue eyes as Gavin finds them peering down. 

“Gimme a minute,” he slurs, limp with fatigue and labored breaths. “We’ll work on you.”

Nines noses his way into the crook of his neck. 

“Take your time,” he murmurs. Laying between Gavin’s lazily parted legs. Dotting kisses along his throat, but Gavin yearns for something deeper. He takes Nines by the face, pulls him in for a real kiss instead. Pleased to find that his lips are still warm and taste of him. He dips his tongue in. Just a tease. Inciting a delicious little hum that reverberates between them. 

Nines can’t help it. His head’s still swimming. He nips and sucks all the way back down. Lavishing kisses into rose painted skin, content to remain just like that while Gavin stays draped across messy bed sheets. But Gavin’s already succumbed to the idea of being taken again. He reaches down and shoves at the android’s belt in a silent, needy command. One Nines is more than happy to oblige. Having thought of this relentlessly, in between all the doubt and quandary. How Gavin felt, the sounds he made, and when they could next be entangled. Truly a distraction worth having considering his time upstate.

Nines rids himself of his pants with that thought in mind. Gracelessly for once in the short expanse of his entire existence, realizing now just how foolish he’d been while Gavin reaches for the nightstand. Snatching a bottle of lube that he keeps in the back of the drawer, a third of the way empty- the product of lonely nights. He turns back, dumping it on the bed beside them. Pleased to find Nines completely bare, tracing every inch of him with his darkened eyes. 

He’s practically glowing in the lamp light. Long, slender, and just fucking perfect-

Gavin drags him back down into another searing kiss, one he savors like the feel of their skin melded seamlessly together and burns it all into memory- just in case he may lose it again. Still unable to convince himself that this could be something that lasts, something that he gets to keep while Nines is simply putty against him. Pawing at the rumpled shirt that’s been shoved up past his chest. Gavin gets the message and promptly strips. 

Things are different this time. Nines keeps him on his back like he wants to recreate that magic from their first time, but with a pillow under Gavin’s hips for added support and a generous amount of lube. Gavin still has to brace himself, gripping the pillow behind his head. Counting his breaths as Nines shifts and preps him. Knelt between his legs. Admiring the tension in his muscles. His twitching, stiffening cock. Dragging out the thrusts of his fingers before replacing them with his own needy erection. Unable to help himself as he falls back down, sinking his teeth into Gavin’s neck as the tip slips in. Catching the groan that Gavin emits, feeling it vibrate against his lips. Nines feels the sparks again, this time in his dick. He has to fight the overwhelming urge to buck his hips when he’s only partly sheathed. He pulls back just a touch, then gives Gavin another inch of his cock. 

“Oh fuck-”

Almost, he thinks. Almost there, almost to the hilt. Nines gives him a nice little thrust, one that punches out a breathless little gasp and simultaneously moans into Gavin’s skin. LED blinking rapid yellow. Fans whirring in his core. 

The human squirms, tapping him urgently. “Watch your fuckin’ teeth-”

Nines hadn’t realized how hard he was clamping down, but sure enough, there’s blood when he pops off and deep divots left from the bite. He licks his lips. 

More data. 

Gavin sends him a tiny scowl from where Nines has him caged between his hands. 

“Fuckin’ vampire-”

He shifts to grab the headboard.

“Impossible,” Nines says, rolling his hips- Gavin drops his jaw. “You’ve seen me in daylight.”

Gavin writhes against him, sliding a hand between them to stroke his painfully unattended cock.

“Whatever. Just shut up and fuck me,” he chokes. So vulgar. Nines snaps his hips again with a ravenous glint. Sends a thrust straight to Gavin’s prostate and earns a salacious moan. Taking Gavin by the chin just to force him once more to look into his eyes as he does just as demanded. Fucking him in a firm and unrelenting pace.

Gavin takes him by the wrist, holding so tight it exposes part of his chassis. Nines releases the headboard to fall back down, face buried in the pillow beside Gavin’s head. Hand still clamped on his jaw, hips never faltering, even as he pants against the cushions. Gavin swears. Nines can feel his pelvic floor twitch and pulse. He groans. Driving deeper, harder thrusts into the smaller man before he scoops him up, lifting him so that he’s seated in his lap. Gavin flails for a second, cursing once more under his breath before he realizes their position and settles. One hand braced on a perfectly hand-crafted bicep and the other cupping the base of the android’s skull. Keeping their foreheads pressed together. Mingling their breaths.

Meanwhile, Nines holds him steady with a firm grip on his thigh and a handful of ass. Keeping pace as Gavin whimpers and moans. Dangerously close to that edge once more, feeling the impending tug in his groin. 

“I- fuck- I’m gonna come-” he gasps, airy and choked out. Clinging to Nines as the android effortlessly holds him steady. Tortuously slowing his hips. Nines growls, unaware of his blinking red temple light and the heat building in his core. He just wants Gavin to fall apart, and he wants to feel it on his cock.

It takes only a few more calculated thrusts that drag just right before Gavin’s orgasm nearly cripples him. Building gradually and then crashing over him like a tidal wave. Dragging him out to sea where he’s floating completely boneless. Another silent climax that’s left him feeling wrecked, spreading sticky and wet between them.

Nines makes a satisfied noise. Pressing a quick kiss to Gavin’s nose before he shifts his hold and smushes Gavin back into the pillows where he grinds against him. Curling a fist into the sheets as he chases his own orgasm. Too swept up in how good it feels and how badly he needs to come to worry about the system warnings that keep flashing behind his eyes or the static in his ears. He just shoves his hips forward again and again. Gavin nearly taps out, overstimulated all to hell but finally feels the spread of heat start to pulse deep inside. So, he bares his teeth in a sharp hiss instead. Head thrown back as Nines locks up. Head fizzling out. He takes a few breaths before he collapses, falling over Gavin. LED gone blank.

Gavin’s still coming down but he’s coherent enough to recognize that this isn’t normal Nines behavior. He gives him a weak little tap. His limbs are basically jelly but the lack of response is enough to perk him up enough for another firmer one, two tap.

Nothing. This time he lifts his head, ice in his veins.

“Nines? Hey-”

His fear is fleeting. Nines stirs suddenly and lifts his head. Dazed and disoriented.

“You good?” Gavin breathes in a sigh of relief. Nines blinks. Voice coming out in a distorted sort of mumble.

“Hm. Reboot.”

Gavin drops his head back against the bed, still recovering from a minor heart attack before he erupts with a warm sense of pride.

“Nice.”  

Nines languidly rolls off of him. Both still trying to catch their breaths as everything starts to settle. With Nines focused on his cool down mechanics and Gavin still shaking. Slick with sweat and come and maybe a little drool there in the end. He turns his head, gazing at Nines in wonderstruck .

“Did you know..” He pants. Like he’s just run another fuckin’ marathon. “That Cyberlife gave you a magic fuckin’ dick?”

Nines has his eyes closed, appearing so soft in the afterglow. This makes him laugh, breathy and genuine. It’s the second time Gavin’s heard it and he’s completely smitten.

“It gets in the way sometimes,” he mutters.

This time, Gavin snorts. He lets another moment pass. Feeling the exhaustion as it hits him like a gentle cloud. He swallows, feeling as close to content as he has been in a long time. Unable to help himself as he reaches for Nines. Taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. 

He murmurs. Voice just below a whisper.

“Hey.. Thanks for coming back,” Gavin says. Nines lifts their conjoined hands and kisses the back of Gavin’s. 

“I never should have left.”

Notes:

I told you, it got away from me.

They just felt so horny, I couldn't just sToP.

*sighs* are we out of the woods yet? Maybe.

Or maybe not >:3

Chapter 16: Transparency

Notes:

This one's pretty domestic ngl. I got like, two chapters of fluff lined up before we resume the whole angst thing- WHICH we'll catch a glimpse of at the end of this chapter.

Poor Gavin.

He'll be fine tho, cuz the amount of times I'm gonna make these two fuck in these next few chapters is about to be abSURD and I'm not sorry.

Anyway, I'm thiNKIng 25 chapters?? We'll see :)

As always, enJOY <3

They fall asleep still plastered to each other. Entangled in the sheets that reek of their union. Of sweat and sex and something more artificial that Gavin’s starting to grow fond of, something that envelopes him like a warm blanket.

He’s up before the sun, and thankfully so. Despite the warm body, he still slept sporadically throughout the night. So unaccustomed to having somebody else in his bed that he hadn’t been able to fully relax. 

Or perhaps he’s just worried that this particular body might disappear again. Still recovering from their recent distance and miscommunications. Single cracks in their foundation that may take more time to fix, something Nines is well aware of as he compensates by soothing each and every jolt. Coming out of stasis every time that Gavin had jumped. Offering his reassurances with soft whispers of sweet nothings and a gentle hand in Gavin’s hair. A gesture that made him feel weirdly nostalgic and brought him more comfort than he could express, other than simply melting back into the android’s chest and falling back asleep. 

But alas, Gavin knows he must rise. Still feeling boneless, still fighting his own lethargy as he finally comes to. 

Nines senses the movement and his eyes open automatically. 

“You’re awake,” he says, like it’s an observation. Gavin yawns and stretches from a half upright position. 

“Barely,” he mutters thickly. 

“That’s because you only slept in roughly two hour intervals,” Nines murmurs, dragging the human back down to lay against him. Gavin hums, pressing lazy pecks into the android’s sternum and speaks between kisses. 

“I’m just.. Not used.. To the company,” he says. Nines lifts his chin and draws him in closer. Staring back at Gavin with those encompassing blue eyes. Like oceans. Deep and mysterious. 

“Perhaps we should remedy that,” he softly purrs. Unblinking as he pulls Gavin further in to meet his lips. He wordlessly follows, feeling something magnetic that comes with it. Like gravity. Seamlessly falling into Nines. Sinking into his kiss. Flushing with a warmth he hasn’t known in so long, close to elation if he really tried to pin a word to it. 

He cherishes these kisses, these quiet pecks that fill the space between them. Gavin curls a leg up, thinking he could lose himself over and over again. Letting Nines take him until he’s spent- his cock even twitches at the idea. 

“You’re aroused,” Nines says, when his lips are free and Gavin’s slipping past the edge of his jaw. 

He pulls back simply to flash the android an impish little smirk. 

“Well, look at you, Junior Detective.”

Nines meets him with a fresh scowl, then simply pulls him back down to seal their lips again. The smooth touch of his palms glides across Gavin’s skin, tracing harsh edges and soft silvery flesh. From the scruff of his stubble to the edge of the blanket that pools at his hips. Inciting goosebumps and short gasps that spill past his lips and into their heated kiss. Nines nips with his teeth, a gentle tug on Gavin’s bottom lip that he holds and releases. One hand finding its way back into his messy hair, the other holding the thigh thrown over his hips. 

Gavin rears back just a touch out of breath and absently grinds. Eyes closed and a rosy flush on his skin that Nines can see despite the morning grey struggling to filter in past the blackout curtains. Along with the red splotches on his skin starting to purple and that bite on his neck that’s already darkened.

“I don’t think I have time,” Gavin whines, like he hasn’t already made up his mind. Like he’s not at half mast and growing firmer with each pulse of blood in his veins. “I still need’a shower, maybe dig my car out of the snow-”

Nines kisses the corner of his mouth, then his chin. Tugging that leg up just a little higher. 

“We have time,” he says. Voice like a low hum in his chest. 

Gavin bites his lip. 

“You gonna shower with me when we’re done?”

Nines flips them, the lube is somewhere under the pillows. He finds it quickly. Knelt between the smaller man’s legs, a hunger in his eyes. 

“I don’t like to be wet.”

This is a trait that’s likely come about during his time exposed to the elements as a mindless machine, something Nines doesn’t like to admit- that he’s developed traumas as a result of his unfortunate start, so he doesn’t. He just simply doesn't like to be wet, but he’ll endure when necessary.

And he’s sure it will be once they’re finished here.

Gavin snorts at this. Almost completely taken out of the moment. Laid out on the sheets like something Nines once preconstructed in a daydream. 

“You drive a motorbike. What the fuck do you do when it rains?”

Nines simply stares at him as he pops the cap. 

“Suffer.”

 

---

 

They fuck, and they shower, and Gavin craves a goddamn cigarette. Already towel dried and sliding into a pair of jeans that he rips from the dresser. Nines is in a similar state of dress, preparing to throw on his previously discarded high collar sweater. Having survived and maybe even enjoyed the shower they shared. Thinking the company certainly made a difference, and seeing Gavin standing, glistening in the stream, with a newfound sense of confidence- as if he wasn’t at first hesitant to show Nines all of his bumpy scars and imperfections- was well worth any discomfort the android might’ve felt if he weren’t so distracted.

There was no funny business either, not aside from Gavin’s little quips about Nines’ disdain for the water. They’d simply washed and chased each other under the stream. Stealing kisses and lingering touches. Physical affections that Gavin’s not accustomed to, that he welcomes with a deep sense of longing. One that only Nines can seem to cure as the android continues to discover and unlock different forms of intimacy he once thought were senseless and mundane. 

“M’wearin’ this,” Gavin snatches that sweater out of his hands before Nines can even react. Too lost in a daze just thinking about all the different versions of Gavin he’s seen in the short amount of time that they’ve known each and appreciating each and every one of them. Meanwhile, Gavin is simply just trying to cover the bites, unsure as to where he threw his cowl neck from the other day. 

Probably still in the wash- he sighs.

Nines can’t even be upset, if anything, he feels remorse. 

He’ll be more considerate in the future, he thinks. Watching Gavin as he slips the fabric over his head and pops out of the neck, rolling it down and effectively hiding his bruises. The sweater’s a little big on him. Loose around the waist and long in the sleeves, but otherwise warm and it smells of that same artificial undertone mixed with a lingering of cologne that Gavin is more than pleased to discover.

Nines remains patient, standing by the bed. Hands tucked in his pockets- shirtless- while Gavin shuffles to the closet and snags one of his larger hoodies off the hanger. Offering it to the android as if to make up for stealing his sweater.

“Here, you can borrow that.”

“How thoughtful,” Nines says, accepting the hooded sweatshirt- Gavin’s Detroit hoodie with the faded Lions logo that he wore only a few Saturdays ago. When they were still dancing around their growing infatuations. It fits Nines like a glove, makes him look weirdly normal. A bold contrast in comparison to the cold and vaguely threatening android he once seemed to be.

But Gavin knows better by now. He knows Nines is soft and plushy on the inside, that he’s nothing but a giant teddy bear.

“Yeah, well, maybe watch your fuckin’ teeth next time,” he teases. He finds his belt and fastens it around his waist as Nines approaches. Cupping his chin to tilt his head back. The action takes Gavin by surprise before he realizes what Nines is doing. 

“Do they hurt?” He sounds genuine, worried almost as one hand peels back his collar for further inspection. Gavin can see it in his eyes, the fear that he may have unintentionally caused him harm- that he’s failed to even consider this before. 

“Not at all,” Gavin says, offering reassurance. “Just keep it below the collar,” he murmurs. A light smile on his lips.

“Below the collar..” Nines parrots. Those eyes, like sparkling pools of electricity, rake over the expanse of Gavin’s frame. Like he’s already mapping out all the parts of him he’d like to mark up next before they flicker back and soften. 

“Very well, Detective.” He sets Gavin’s collar back in place with a gentle precision, still cradling his jaw. Now with both hands. Like holding onto something he finds precious. Gavin allows himself to be held for a moment- for a single fleeting moment. 

Then Nines traces the scar on his nose, almost as if on impulse.

And Gavin fights the urge to recoil. 

“How did this happen?”

He asks this question like he’s been mulling over it for ages. In a quiet voice full of curious admiration. Eyes full of wonder. Gavin wants to shrink away. 

He’s not unused to this question. It’s plagued him since he was a small child. The lies usually come much easier, but there’s pressure to deliver this time.

“I fell,” he says quickly. A half truth. He pulls back before Nines has a chance to doubt this. Still staring- with those eyes that don’t dart but merely scan. Clearly dissatisfied. Studying the quick change in Gavin’s demeanor that he seems determined to hide. 

But Nines is patient- he can be at least. When the situation calls for it. So, he simply lets his touch linger around Gavin’s waist and finds a change in subject that might be more favorable. Being aware of the impending holiday coming up and knowing Gavin only faced half a day of work because of this.

Personally, Nines doesn’t tend to engage in such festivities, nothing more than the simple participation of being physically present at least. Which is normally all that’s expected of him. 

But things are a little different this time. He has something more to celebrate- something to be thankful for.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” His gentle expression is like a warm blanket, one Gavin would like to submerse himself in. He only peels himself away because time is vastly working against him.

He shrugs. “Uh, I dunno. Maybe take a nap?”

Nines tilts his head. “You plan to nap all day?” He’s simply curious. Still, Gavin falters. Stops and scratches the back of his head before he turns on a heel to leave the bedroom.

“I mean, I usually just watch the game and crack a couple beers,” he says, filtering out into the hall, making the short trek through the kitchen. Nines follows him. “The nap just seems to happen after my fifth or sixth.”

He makes a straight line for the den. Edith runs to him, hopping down from where she was lazing over the back of the couch. 

Gavin then snags his boots from under the coffee table and plants himself down on a couch cushion. His furry feline winding around his feet, eager for pets. Nines stops just short of where he sits.

“Thanksgiving is a social holiday, is it not?”

Gavin looks minorly annoyed. “Typically, sure.”

“So, shouldn’t you be spending this time with other people? Family perhaps?”

He stops midway into a boot. “I don’t have one,” Gavin says, as if it were obvious. 

His dad left. 

His mom died. 

His older brother is about as distant as the far side of fucking the moon- and he’s still holding out for a time and date. 

So, Gavin’s on his own. As he has been for as long as he can remember. In and out of the foster system, back and forth between boy’s homes. Until he eventually aged out- but he’s fine. He’s accustomed to the emptiness that follows any time he’s reminded of his broken past. He’s learned to swallow the hurt and bury it deep down. But Nines looks at him almost perplexed- as if to question this. Like he knows something he shouldn’t.  

And Gavin doesn’t like it. It makes him squirm. Nines even seems to recalculate whatever it is that he’s thinking and diverts the topic. 

Another pin for another time. 

“I see..” He says slowly. Gavin slips into his other boot and quickly fastens the laces.

“Look.. Don’t worry about me, alright? Go do whatever you usually do. It’s not that deep. I don’t even like turkey,” he mumbles.

“I’ve only ever spent this holiday with the Blaines. They’re not likely to do anything extravagant this year,” Nines mentions. He’s not hesitant- of course not. That would be silly. However, this circles back to those odd human complexities where everything has to be a thing and it can’t ever be simple. “Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

There’s a hopeful edge to his voice. Gavin laughs like he doesn’t think Nines is being serious.

He stands. “Little early for me to meet the parents, don’t you think?” 

This is a joke, but Nines just looks at him unblinking. “I don’t have parents. I am an android,” he states, quietly. As if it’s a reminder. 

This is quickly brushed off as Gavin shrugs and grabs his keys off the coffee table. Edith retreats beneath the surface of it, in a little loaf where she quietly observes.

“If you say so.”

Nines disregards this and watches the human instead. Follows him as he strides across the room and heads for the door where he stops and snags his jacket off the wall. Nines stops just before the entry way, slipping both hands into his front pockets. Ring light fluttering into yellow for a brief cycle.

Gavin stops halfway into his coat. Looking uncertain- something he masks with nonchalance. 

“Are you.. What’re you doing? Are you hangin’ out here? Or..?”

“I need to stop by my apartment,” Nines tells him, still trying to navigate these missteps as they continue to dance around each other with ambivalence. 

It would seem that verbal communication between them is much more of an added challenge when it comes to expressing their wants and desires. Something that otherwise comes very easily when it’s channeled physically.

It doesn’t help matters much that Gavin’s putting up walls again. A single brick at a time.

“Whatever. I don’t care either way.” He offers simple instructions. Adjusting his collar before he plucks his house key from the key ring and passes it to Nines.

“Lock up if you leave. Leave the key on top of the door if you’re not comin’ back.”

Nines simply stares at it. It pains him, knowing that Gavin still has his doubts. 

He can’t blame him, and he doesn’t- but he’s determined to prove himself this time. To make his intentions clear. 

That he wants to be here. 

That he wants to be here with Gavin.

He steps forward, accepting the key that’s being offered to him. Locked in on those grey eyes.

“I’ll be back.” Nines seals this with a kiss. One he places chastely over Gavin’s lips. 

Reassurance. 

“Have a good day, Detective.”

 

---

 

It’s a lazy day at the office. Gavin is thankful for this as he doesn’t have the brain power to focus on much of anything. He’s too busy reeling, from the highs and the lows of his night and the morning to follow. Unsure as to why he’s buzzing so hard with deep seated apprehension. With so much to unpack from his parting conversation with Nines and, of course, coming to work entails that he’ll have to interact with Hank again- or at least be around him. 

They’ve always done a good job in the past of steering clear of each other, but Gavin doesn’t want to revert back to that. Not really. 

He knows that what he said was awful. He knows it’s best that they keep a safe distance, but he passes the older man on the way to the breakroom that morning, and it hits him like an open palm to the face. 

He misses Hank. 

He fucking misses Hank. 

And, of course, the surly man hardly even looks at him. The glance he does throw cuts like steel and Gavin bows his head in shame. 

A hugely uncharacteristic trait that he’s developed since forming an actual conscience over the past several months. One that he hates because it means he actually has to live with this shit now instead of letting it roll off his back like he had in the past. 

What sucks the most is that Hank was probably the only other person he could truly confide in- which is all he wanted to begin with. Just to vent about where he stands with Nines because the lines feel blurred and he’s still so unsure. 

He pours coffee from a half empty pot. That’s when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Gavin caps his cup and whips out his cell as he turns, skimming the notification. Surprised to find a text from Nines. 

:: I would like to apologize for earlier ::

Gavin has to wrack his brain for this one. He types one handed, with a single thumb as he walks. 

// apologize?? //

An immediate response- where was that energy a couple days ago?

:: For my behavior. I made the assumption that you wouldn’t mind me spending another night ::

Gavin types back quickly and hits send.

// i told you i didnt care //

He finds his desk, sets his coffee down and logs into his screen, by then his phone is lit up with a double text that takes him completely aback.

:: Yes, but I would like to be more transparent moving forward. So, instead of telling me what you think I want to hear, I would appreciate your honesty ::

:: You’re entitled to your space, Gavin. And to your privacy. I understand that this is new, so please don’t feel pressured if you think things are moving too fast between us ::

Gavin could laugh, as if they haven’t known each other for only a few short weeks. Like their first kiss didn’t end in a quick fuck and they weren’t currently wearing each other’s clothes. 

Instead he just sits there and smiles. Like a fucking idiot. One who once swore he never felt these things. 

He responds finally. Unable to help himself from spamming.

// okay :) //

// Nines //

// Niles //

// Baby //

// pls stay the night again //

// i wANT you to //

He stares at his phone, elbow on the table. Sweater paw under his chin where he breathes in the very vague scent of Nines. Subtle, clean, and all around perfection. The rest of the world falls away. His worries and insecurities. His doubts and his fears. Vanished into thin air as he continues to fall deeper and deeper. 

A fat stack of papers is all it takes to break his trance. Gavin jumps, darting eyes finding the looming storm cloud of Lieutenant Hank Anderson from across his desk, already on his way past- but he’s not getting away that easy.

Gavin drops his phone on the table where it clatters and throws his hands up. “What the fuck is this?” 

“Shit that needs transferred,” Hank grumbles. Gavin shoves the stack with a hard scowl.

“Make a fuckin’ PO do this shit.”

Hank stops, lit like a match. “Just do your fuckin’ job,” he barks. It feels personal. Gavin just pouts, knowing that they’re in poor standing still and that he doesn’t have the right to fight back or go against his orders.

Though part of him is glad that they’re even talking. Even if he’s just getting the brunt of Hank’s sour mood. In a weird way, it’s almost like this was all just an excuse for them to have some sort of interaction. To scope out what’s new and what’s got Gavin Reed all fuckin’ smiley on a slow day at the office. 

The younger man continues to sulk. He finally has something- someone- to go home to and his plans are fucking soiled.

“This is gonna take me all day,” he complains. The lieutenant simply turns, there’s no venom on his tongue. Just a low rumble like waning thunder.

“Not my fuckin’ problem.” 

Gavin releases a heavy sigh, watching him leave before he deflects. He checks his phone just for a mere distraction. Melting once more. Like sunshine after a rainstorm.

Nines has responded. 

:: Wonderful :) ::

 

---

 

On Thanksgiving Day, Nines is hesitant to leave. Gavin’s been fighting him tooth and nail in the subtle instances in which Nines has tried to further coax him. Having to remind himself time and time again not to push. 

Easier said than done. He just wants Gavin to feel included.

But Gavin insists. Standing at the bar, having finished half a bowl of cereal. In his boxers and a large hoodie. 

“Go. Go be with your people,” he says, practically shooing him off as he sets the bowl down. 

“You are my people,” Nines tells him. Earning a pause, a squint, and a single crude comment. 

“Gay.”

Unmoving, Nines simply stares at him. 

Such petty insults are beneath him. 

And yet he retaliates. “I present male, Detective. So, what does that make you?” 

Gavin’s petulant little glare amuses him to no end, with his hair all fluffy from sleeping in past ten and his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Uh, I go both ways. You just happen to have a dick.”

Nines likes seeing him ruffled. It brings a small, mischievous smile to his face. 

“One that you seem to really enjoy-”

This time Gavin starts pushing. Literally. Two hands on the small of Nines’ back, urging him past the kitchen. “Go. Asshole.”

Movement is only happening because the android allows it, but he plants his feet firmly in the living room and looks back with pleading eyes. 

“I really wish you’d join me,” he says. Gavin seems to relax, but he doesn’t budge on the matter. As much as a small part of him really wants to. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got Netflix and a twelve pack calling my name.”

As if that would be enough to convince Nines that he was content with spending this day all alone. It doesn’t, and Gavin can sense this. In a single moment of vulnerability, he drops his shield and bows his head.

“Full transparency?” He mutters, as if that’s become their little code word. Taking a single step forward- figuratively. Still unsure, still struggling to let his guard down completely. Nines turns to face him straight on, with an undivided attention.

“It’s a lot right now and I’m not.. Ready.. For all that,” Gavin says. Slowly like he’s searching for the right words. Nines watches him fidget with his hands, understanding that this level of communication is very foreign to him.

It is for both of them, that’s why this is important. Otherwise they’re back at square one.

“But if you wanna come back later.. I’d be alright with that,” Gavin murmurs. He peers up through his lashes. Unexpectedly met with such warmth as Nines practically beams.

Not outwardly exactly. His smile is soft and muted, but his eyes gleam with such adoration and every sensor in his body is shouting one single command.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.

So, he does. More reassurance. More reward. He kisses Gavin firmly on the lips and leaves with a few lingering pecks. The smaller man simply smiles in between. A wide, genuine smile.

Nines then recalls the human’s plans for the day as he pulls back and adds dryly, “don’t get belligerent.”

To which Gavin scoffs. “Fuck you, I do what I want.”

Nines leaves on this note. Respecting Gavin’s wishes and making his rounds on his own. Visiting Connor via interface- Hank’s not in good spirits, so Nines doesn’t stop by the house, but wishes him well. A message that’ll be delivered by his predecessor and later reciprocated when the older man’s feeling up to conversation again. Then makes his way to visit the Blaine’s. 

They’re having a quiet celebration given their current circumstance, as to be expected. No large dinner party they typically throw for the officers down at the precinct, and no revolving door of many faces to fill the many rooms of their moderately sized residence. Just them and a quiet afternoon. With Janice over the moon to see him as always and Richard lounging in his recliner. 

He looks Nines up and down, noting the sports hoodie that he’s paired more casually with a pair of dark washed jeans. The one he continues to wear like a second skin. 

He’s still borrowing it. That was his only thought on the matter. That Gavin lent it to him and he wasn’t done with it yet. 

“You watch football?” The question comes out incredulously and with minor amusement. 

Nines sits down beside him. A movie was playing on the flat screen above the mantle. Fast Five, a favorite. 

He shakes his head, but says nothing. 

“I’m more of a Bills fan, myself,” Richard comments, eyes on the monitor, speaking more so to himself. He sounds sleepy, so Nines won’t stay long. Perhaps just the duration of the film or until the captain succumbs to his fatigue. 

Janice stops in the doorway and smiles, not that either of them seem to notice. She’ll nettle him later about not bringing company. I’d really like to meet him, she’ll say as she cuts up a slice of apple pie for Nines to take with him and then she’ll send him off like he’s committed some kind of a war crime for leaving Gavin all on his own- as if he had any choice in the matter.

And sure enough, Gavin’s asleep on the couch when Nines returns. Curled up with a blanket, his back facing toward the television. Highlights of the game are softly playing, washing the living room in a gentle blue light. Nines notes the few empty beer bottles on the coffee table, the vape left out next to the ash tray. He steps further into the room and sets the tupperware down. Surprised by a tiny sound- a curious sound. One that comes as Edith pokes her head up from where Gavin’s cradling her like a stuffed animal, as if she’s greeting the android. 

Nines watches her attempt to climb over the sleepy human, an action that stirs him as the weight of her tiny paws digs into his side. Gavin wakes with a sharp breath as Edith jumps down. Nines straightens with a small smile. One that Gavin finds through the blur of his heavy lashes. 

“Time is it?” He slurs. Nines tilts his head. 

“4:37,” he says, watching Gavin rub his eyes in an effort to rouse himself. 

“You weren’t gone that long,” the human mutters, as if he truly expected Nines to be gone all day.

“I’m done visiting,” Nines says simply. “I was told to give well wishes. And I’ve brought pie.”

Gavin looks at him incredulously from where he’s twisted to look at him, like he can’t believe that they’re having this conversation. That Nines- an android he once couldn’t stand the sight of- is standing in his living room, that they’re fucking now and that Nines brought him a slice of pie on fucking Thanksgiving Day. It’s still not registering.

“What?”

Nines only glances down at the coffee table. Gavin follows his gaze and, sure enough, there’s a plastic container sitting neatly on the surface top. Gavin sits up and softens considerably.

“Oh..”

“From Janice,” Nines clarifies. Gavin doesn’t think, he just snatches the bowl and peels the lid off. 

“You tell Janice she’s a fuckin’ saint,” he mumbles. His hair is partly mussed, making it look somehow softer and he’s wearing the same grey hoodie he went to bed in last night, but had the gumption to at least put on some pants.

Nines simply smiles. Despite his foul language, he finds innocence in Gavin’s gratitude. 

“I’ll relay the message." With less vulgarity, of course. Gavin tosses the lid and leaves to grab a fork from the kitchen, hunger hitting him with the enticing aroma of apple cinnamon. Nines simply meanders towards the couch, Edith follows his trail like a little shadow. One he welcomes as he sits. The cushions are still warm from Gavin’s body heat. The pretty feline hops up with another quiet trill. Two paws planted firmly on his thigh. Nines pets her with a look of content. 

Gavin stumbles across this upon his return, holding the fork up to his mouth, paper plate in hand. Mid first bite of pie.

“Fuckin’ traitor,” he bitterly grumbles, then takes his bite. It’s sweet and sugary and over all fucking amazing.

Nines almost laughs. Instead he strokes Edith over the crown of her head again.

“Your owner is jealous of our bond,” he murmurs softly, in her particular direction. Gavin scoffs.

“Whatever,” he says. He strides back over to the couch and plops down. Digging into his slice of happiness as he’s laid back and man spread across the cushion. Nines quietly observes, then bends to slip his boots off. This nudges Edith out of his lap, but she seems happy to curl up as his side. Purring softly as she morphs into a tiny ball of fluff, one that’s latched onto his hip. 

Nines then kicks his feet up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. This may seem uncouth, and he worries the action may be scolded- but Gavin doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he hikes a foot up on the edge of the glass just the same. Eating around the crust of his pie as he seems to only favor the filling.

Strange, but then again, Nines has no frame of reference when it comes to understanding the way humans eat. He simply makes note of this for next time.

Gavin doesn’t give a shit about the feet on the coffee table, just like he doesn’t quite care for pie crust. Both of these things he can mindlessly disregard, what’s more blaring in his mind is the present company and how fucking weird it is that he’s not alone right now.

Sure, Tina sent him a text earlier- she usually does- but he’s been ignoring pretty much everyone lately. And he wanted to send Hank a quick turkey day text despite yesterday’s hostility, because he knows the holidays are rough for the older man and part of him still aches to mend what’s been broken between them. He’s just not sure if he can handle that kind of rejection if Hank does decide that he’s done with him. 

He even thought about messaging his brother. He has what he presumes to be the man’s personal number, but Gavin’s never sure where their boundaries lie. Eli’s always been so disconnected from everyone and everything around him that Gavin’s not even sure if it matters.

Maybe that’s why he’s struggling. It makes sense for him to camp out on his couch and sleep and drink all day. He has no one to see and no where to go, but Nines has people. He has companionships- family even. He should be spending this time with them instead. Not some pathetic, lonely man whose only emotions teeter back and forth between cold, hard anger and crippling emptiness.

“You should be spending this day with good company,” Gavin reiterates in a quiet mutter, before he can catch himself or break that train of thought. Still not understanding how or why Nines decided to come back in the first place or why he continues to linger at all. Gavin’s not good company and he’s not worth the effort or the pie. He’s not even sure what’s happening between them, just that he’s on pins and needles.

Maybe it’s an android thing. Maybe Nines just doesn’t see the significance of today or what it’s meant to symbolize.

But he does. He knows. It just never mattered before.

But it’s different now. 

“I am,” he says, like it’s a fact. Gavin squirms with uncertainty, slowly he leans and places the plate and his disregarded pie crust over the coffee table. It’s been so long since he’s spent a holiday with anyone that he almost feels lost. Like there’s expectations and traditions that he’s ignoring, but really, Gavin can’t think of a single Thanksgiving that he’s actually celebrated. Usually he’s working to keep his mind from winding back or wandering too far, but he didn’t have the energy for that this time around. A theme he’s starting to notice the older he gets, as his exterior starts to wear and tear. 

The only thing that comes close is the one year where it was just him and his mom- the last year he spent with her, in fact, before she died only a few months later. 

She ordered a pizza and they watched the parade through the blurry, pixelated screen of their tiny TV. She was high on pain killers, but she let Gavin rest his head on her shoulder and they laughed over the funny floats. The memory stings. Gavin’s raw tonight, as he often is during the holidays. 

He grabs the remote without thinking. His voice remains small. 

“You wanna watch the parade?” It’s over now, but Gavin records it every year. He doesn’t always watch it, but he always has it. Just in case.  

Nines doesn’t say anything, he simply watches as Gavin flips the channels. Something hollow behind those rain cloud eyes that makes his chest tighten for a moment. He waits for Gavin to settle back against the couch before he pulls him in.

Because Gavin seems far away.

And Nines wants him here.  

The action takes the smaller man by surprise. He even makes a small sound as if to indicate this. Stiff in the android’s arms. Slowly he relaxes and shifts so that he’s settled into the crook of his arm.

Distantly, he wonders if Nines has any idea how much this means to him. That a very small and fractured part of him feels mended slightly.

That he feels seen- chosen.  

It’s enough to make his eyes feel wet. 

Gavin doesn’t say anything else. He just nuzzles in and keeps his gaze locked on the screen. 

His phone vibrates in the cushions somewhere, Gavin doesn’t lunge for it like he would have even an hour ago. When he yearned for even the smallest gestures of contact. He’s too immersed in how good it feels to be held. Too entranced by the colors flashing on the television screen and soothed once more by a hand in his hair.

He’ll discover later when he remembers to check his phone, that he’d missed a text from his older brother. “Tuesday, November 27th. 9 am,” it’ll say, and he’ll have another thing to celebrate.

But for now, he has Nines.

And that’s all he needs.

Notes:

Not Gavin with the mommy issues.

Not Nines being weirdly suspicious.

NOT THEM WEARING EACH OTHER'S CLOTHES.

I cry.

Also, kisses to every single one of you, cuz I just peeped the hits and I am so tickled. Thank you so much for reading <3

Chapter 17: This Feeling

Notes:

Another self-indulgent chapter.

I promise there's plot if you squint. This chapter was also way longer, but I had to make some sacrifices because it was like, obnoxiously long. So, the plot continues NEXt chapter :3

For now, MORE FLUFF.

And Gavin having an internal crisis, because I live to torture.

Enjoy! :)

Days pass, and they slip seamlessly into a routine. One Gavin clings to in the same way that he clings to Nines when they’re entwined. Tangled like embroidered threads between the sheets. 

By now, they’ve mapped out every inch of each other’s skin. Nines has traced every scar like those delicate patterns he’s so drawn to and Gavin’s charted every freckle like constellations in the night sky. Intimacy between them has reigned between fast, feverish passion so intense it leaves them both a shaky mess to slow, amorous affection that unravels them both completely. Leaving them in limp, placid piles of limbs. Breathless and coming down from a head high. Landing anywhere between the front door and beyond. 

Once with fumbling hands in the entryway, only remembering to kick the door shut because Nines practically threw Gavin into it with a force hard enough to make him drop the bags he was carrying. Then twice on the couch, the first to finish the escapade by the door where they nearly fell over the coffee table in such a rush. Laughing breathlessly as they’d collapsed onto the cushions and proceeded to rut each other to completion. 

The second only hours later, after they were both soft and pliant from another shower. Nines was slowly warming up to the idea of being wet if it meant he could see Gavin gleam like polished marble. A thought that followed him back out into the living room, where instead of focusing on whatever movie Gavin threw on, he simply let the intrusive thoughts win. On his side, holding Gavin in a spooning position, propped up by fluffy couch pillows. He pushed down their pants just enough to fuck him while their lips moved sensually against each other. With slow hands sliding up his shirt and over his thighs. Gavin let him come twice before succumbing to his own orgasm, one that left him completely boneless. 

He would bat those same hands away the next morning. “I’m gonna need another hour and a fuckin’ Pedialyte before we can fuck again,” he’ll say, from where he was rinsing a plate over the sink after a meal- so they don’t mess around much that day outside of grabby hands and steamy kisses. Nines still gets him off before bed, with the skillful drag of his tongue. No swallowing this time, as he’s really not built for it. 

He can dissolve samples, anything more than that taps into his reserves and- at the rate that they’re going- he’s going to need more thirium soon. 

And finally, they rise on Sunday. Gavin wakes up first- for once. Feeling rested in a way he never has. With the curtains left open so that the sun can filter in through a frosted window and cast a glow that washes over Nines and his still sleeping form. Gavin breathes in a quiet sigh from his nose.

He’s never caught Nines still in stasis. He usually stirs with Gavin or he’s already awake, so it’s truly a sight to behold. One Gavin etches into his mind like scripture.

The sharp slopes of his facial structure, the faint speckles across his nose. Those dark lashes resting over his cheeks in a stolid expression. He breathes in stasis. Soft, even breaths that are controlled by his body’s automatic regulation mechanics. A gentle sound escapes him because of this, not quite snoring. Just breathing. Lying on his side, that tendril pushed back.

Gavin grins, triumphant like he’s tamed a wild beast. Cyberlife’s most advanced creation- the elusive and resilient RK900- was in his bed. Sleeping soundly and peacefully like he wasn’t built to be an unstoppable machine. Designed for law enforcement’s most challenging endeavors. 

The same android intended for high stakes- the one who likes cats and hates water, who initiates physical touch like it’s his native language- has attached himself to fucking Gavin Reed of all people. Still wearing that stupid hoodie, a protective hand resting over the curve of Gavin's waist. Thinking of him even in slumber.

With doting eyes, he takes a page out of the android’s book and wakes him with a kiss. One he leans in and presses into the curve of his cupid’s bow, softly but firmly. And when he pulls back, those eyes are open. Shining iridescent in the sun. 

It only takes a moment for his pupils to adjust. “Good morning, Detective. Did you sleep well?” His voice isn’t disturbed or muddled by sleep. It’s clear and quiet. Unlike Gavin’s, who speaks in a deep, gravelly mumble. 

“Better.”

“You’ve averaged five hours this past weekend,” he states, as if to suggest that he’s been conducting his own personal sleep study on the unsuspecting human. 

“That’s ‘cuz you’re wearin’ me the fuck out.”

Nines considers this with a small hum. “There’s always room for improvement. My goal is to have you sleeping at least eight hours without interruption. You’ll need to cut back on caffeine, of course- and entirely on nicotine.”

“Or you could just keep railin’ me before bed,” Gavin retorts.

He’s met with a faint smile, a glimmer of amusement. 

“Does that help?”

Gavin coaxes him onto his back and crawls up his chest.

“Immensely,” he purrs. He drapes himself over Nines, dips down to seal their lips. Finding eager reciprocation as two hands cup and cradle his face.

This is part of the routine: morning kisses. Gavin hasn’t known this kind of affection in years, if he’s ever had the luxury. Maybe on a few occasions in his early twenties when he was still young and naive. Thinking he’d finally found the one in whoever he brought home from the bar or matched with on an app. Just to wind up sleeping all alone again. Another lesson learned, another break in his battered heart. Never actually looking for anything more than something just to fill the void. An empty space that Gavin’s beginning to think has been Nines shaped all along.

Their jagged edges just seem to fit seamlessly like missing pieces. Their sparks ignite the same fire, fueling a deep down something- a profession that Gavin’s not willing to make just yet. One he doesn’t even dare to think. Still haunted by his own insecurities, by the whispers in the back of his head still saying that this is all temporary, that nothing good ever lasts.

It broke him once already. Nines is still picking up the pieces that he dropped. It’s no fault of his own, Gavin doesn’t come with a warning label. He’s been busted up and passed around already like lost toys in the sand box. 

He deepens their kiss, laying flush against the android’s chest. Unable to help the fact that his knees part over his waist. Gavin peels back just a touch, just enough to speak. Lips only a whisper away.

“We should do somethin’,” he murmurs. Nines lifts him with his hips, voice dripping with sultry suggestion.

“I’m working on it,” he says. Reed flushes with a heat that blooms under his skin, starting in his groin and floods all the way to the very tips of his extremities.

It’s a miracle that he’s getting hard again, that he’s still this fucking horny.

“I meant like, we should go somewhere. I’m goin’ fuckin’ stir crazy,” Gavin mutters, chasing those lips once more as the android slips his hands beneath his shirt. Voice a low rumble.

“Go where?” 

“Literally anywhere,” he says, flushing with more heat.

Nines echoes. “Anywhere?” Slowly rocking Gavin against the growing mound in his pants. Persuading the human with those hands on his hips. Turning his brain into mush with each little drag and pull. 

He’s growing breathless, and right on schedule too, as this has become another crucial part of their morning ritual. 

And Gavin’s more than ready for it. He paws at Nines with feverish need. 

“Alright, either fuck me or put your hands on it-”

“Are you asking or begging?” 

“I’m telling you,” Gavin says, challenging Nines with a heated gaze. “If you want it, you better take it.” Watching the shift in those opal eyes as they slowly darken. The human grins a very wolfish grin, one he leans down and presses into the crook of the android’s neck. Feeling the jolt beneath him as his breath and the vibrations of his husky voice ghosts over a patch of sensitive synthskin.

“Tick tock, baby. Your window of opportunity is closing.”

He expects the flip when it happens. He doesn’t expect to be face down in the pillows, where Nines takes him by the hips to sit him up on his knees like setting up a fucking tripod. Shoving his boxers halfway down, just enough for easy access. Knelt behind him, uncapping the lube- now two thirds of the way gone. Meanwhile, Gavin’s bracing a hand on the headboard, cock pulsing between his legs. He itches to reach down and stroke it, and dares to be so bold before a single hand snatches his wrist halfway down.

Nines is right in his ear, the weight of him blankets Gavin’s back.

“You get one or the other. You don’t get both.”

The human huffs, sending a fresh pout over his shoulder. Still holding himself upright on the headboard.

“Why the fuck are you punishing me?”

“This isn’t a punishment.” Nines guides his hand to join the other and slowly releases it. Gavin can feel enough of him to realize that he’s pulled his pants down too. Feeling the heat of his cock so close to the cleft of his ass and the skin of his thighs pressed into his own.

He trembles, feeling the sudden drag of those slender fingers- slick with lube over his shaft. Teasing his weeping slit and partway down. 

“So, what will it be, Detective? Do you want me to fuck you?” Nines nudges with his hips. No hitch or break in his voice. Just a deep, velvety purr against the shell of his ear. “Or do you want me to put my hands on it?”

Gavin trembles, bowing his head.

“Fck.. I don’t care. Dealer’s choice,” he mutters, trying to keep himself steady. Nines strokes him softly again. Unwavering.

“No, Gavin. I want to hear what you want.”

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” Gavin rasps, arching his back. “Please.”

Nines pulls away, surely with a satisfied smirk.

“Now you’re begging,” he says, retracting his hand. Gavin feels it spread the slippery substance over his hole and fights another tremor.

“Fuck you.”

Nines adds a generous amount of lube, tosses the bottle and lines himself up.

No need for much prep, they’ve been fucking like rabbits, and he knows Gavin can take it.

“You’ll have to earn that.”

He shoves his hips forward, Gavin nearly chokes. He wants to know how. How does he fucking earn that? What does he have to do? These questions simply misfire in his brain as Nines proceeds fuck him with unbridled abandon. Sending thrusts straight to his sweet spot, hard enough for Gavin to sob. Already there, just a little more-

Nines knocks his knees further apart, dragging him back on his cock. Gavin slips from the headboard and falls face first into the pillows, burying his moans. Feeling a hand over the back of his skull, not to hold him down, just a gentle pressure. He reaches back to hold it, finding that the skin has receded- that Nines was touching him with unsheathed palms. That he wanted to feel him.

Gavin comes, melting like candle wax. Convulsing against the hard cock in his ass. Nines rolls his head to the side with a firm hold still over the crown of his head. Wanting to hear those pretty sounds- wanting to feel them as his other hand comes around. Two fingers find Gavin’s lips. He opens his mouth and accepts them. Eyes closed in a state of bliss. Humming around those ivory white digits, swishing his tongue along the smooth pads of them as Nines groans, deep and nearly glitched out.

He spills deep, hips faltering. Blinking red. Releasing Gavin’s head just to grip his hip. Soothing it once he’s past the peak of his climax. Slipping his fingers out of Gavin’s mouth with a wet sounding slurp.

The human is otherwise completely wrecked. Nines gives him a playful slap on the ass.

“So, what’re we doing today, Detective? Have you decided?”

Not even a touch out of fucking breath.

Gavin swears.

 

---

 

It’s another hour before Gavin’s rinsed off and dressed. Having taken the initiative to shave and put a little effort into himself seeing as it’s been nothing but loose shirts and sweatpants over his holiday weekend. 

He threw on a muted sweatshirt- soft waffle knit. Layered over a t-shirt to combat the cold and french tucked into his jeans. Opting for a more fitted pair that he’s favored lately, especially now that he actually has somebody to impress. Additionally, he’d left the product out of his hair because Nines likes it soft, or so he’s noticed. It stays swept back, just looser. Gavin rakes a hand through it as he emerges from the bedroom, finding Nines by the window. 

The plan for today is that there is no plan, just that they’re going to venture. To soak up the remainder of their long weekend, as tomorrow their lives would have to resume. Whether that be back to normal or otherwise was uncertain. Just that it was going to be less togetherness given the demands of their occupations and the responsibilities that came with reality. A foreign concept given the fact that they’ve been holed up in the secluded sanctuary of Gavin’s apartment. A space that’s become their quiet domain.

However, Nines has his eyes closed from where he stands. Hands in his pockets, cycling yellow as information is processed via interface. Gavin watches him closely, slipping into his trusted leather jacket. He holds his breath. They’re both always on call and either one can be pulled away at any moment. 

But, those eyes flutter and focus, looking minorly perturbed. Gavin hesitates to ask. 

“Everything okay?”

Nines leans down by the sectional piece of the sofa, where Edith is perched in a tiny loaf. Gingerly, he scratches behind her ears.

“Just a message from the precinct,” he loosely explains. “I’ll be working out of district nine while Captain Blaine’s recovering and likely for the extent of his treatment.”

This makes sense. They’ve had a few very brief discussions regarding the captain’s well being, mostly Nines just expressing his concerns in the quiet, more intimate moments of their time together. In the shadows of shared vulnerability. Gavin knows enough about the situation to understand the extent of it. So, this comes as no surprise.

And quietly, he celebrates. As this means Nines won’t be leaving the city any time soon.

He grabs his keys and a strawberry vape- so much for cutting back. “You takin’ his place?” 

Nines shakes his head, dressed in a more traditional leather jacket- the one he showed up in earlier that week. Bomber style over a navy crew neck and tight black jeans that make his legs look impossibly long. 

Once more, Gavin can’t stop clocking them.

“No, that responsibility falls on Sergeant Duran.”

They shuffle towards the door, Nines holds it open for the smaller man and they file out into the hall.

“But you’ll be another authority figure.”

Light shines in from a single window, they find the elevator perpendicular to it.

“A placeholder, essentially,” Nines corrects. 

“You guys don’t have a lieutenant,” Gavin mentions. Nines hits the lobby button, radiating a budding tension.

“No, she retired last month,” he informs. 

“Sounds like this is a trial run.”

“It’s not.”

“Nines-”

“I would like to change the subject,” the android snaps. Smacking the lobby button twice more as Gavin immediately wrenches. 

He tries to back pedal with a softer tone. Following Nines as the elevator doors open and he strides smoothly into the confined space of the cabin. Gavin ducks his head in, trying to get a better look at the taller man. Only to find a furrowed expression and a flickering ring light. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Why are you fighting this so hard?”

Nines doesn’t hit the lobby button, he wirelessly commands it. Knowing his actions might be unintentionally abrasive and he doesn’t want to give off the impression that he’s upset with Gavin. He’s not. But these lines of questions have irked him in a way that he’s still searching to understand.

Finally, he sighs, hoping to find some relief from the pressure that’s built up in his chest like a powder keg. Summing it up as best as he can.

“I would like to earn my place on the force if I’m going to join officially. I don’t want it handed to me because of my predisposition or my relationship with the captain. I’ll never be respected if I am seen only as-”

“The captain’s son?”

Nines looks down at him in a quick snap. “You keep pushing that narrative. Why?”

Gavin stares at him like it’s obvious. 

“They took you in, man. You’re part of their flock whether you like it or not,” he says, suppressing a strain of envy.

“Once more, I am an android-”

“Yeah, well. Fuck that. Family just happens sometimes. Blood’s got nothin’ to do with it,” Gavin mutters. 

Interesting. Nines suppresses the urge to clap back. With a quiplash regarding Gavin’s relationship with Lieutenant Anderson on the tip of his tongue. Deciding it’s not worth the retaliation that’s sure to follow. Not when he can see that the topic of family is somewhat of a hot subject for Gavin- who claims to not have one.

But Nines knows what he knows, and he’ll keep that knowledge to himself until Gavin’s ready and he’ll resist the urge to pry when it comes to the Andersons. It’s not his place to wedge himself in the middle of all that, so silent he will remain on the matter- and silent he stays for the remainder of the elevator ride. Something that makes Gavin visibly nervous. He shuffles anxiously, worried he might’ve said the wrong thing or that there was now a strain between them- but there’s not. So, Nines, in a learned gesture, reaches for Gavin. Hand on the back of his neck where he squeezes in three gentle pulses. Slow, firm, and reassuring. Feeling the tension beneath his palm slowly ebb away.

Perhaps that’s why Nines appreciates the effects of physical touch so much. It’s like interfacing with humans. 

Meanwhile, Gavin feels like his heart could explode at any minute. He doesn't have time to wonder if Nines has any idea what those three squeezes are supposed to symbolize, or if they even mean the same thing to him as the cab comes to a slow stop and he’s coaxed out of the elevator. With a lingering hand on the small of his back, nearly dumbfounded. 

He’s still trying to remember how to breathe as they stroll through the lobby, past a wide set of glass doors. Met with a gust of cold air as they step out into the sun. Forty-five degrees and the snow was already melting. Slushy puddles were still glittering on the pavement, sloshing beneath their steps.

By now they’ve parted only slightly, Nines leads up ahead. Gavin knows he should follow, but instead he stops. Lingering in the parking lot as a familiar gleam catches the corner of his eye. 

Sitting shiny and docile in the sun, over the blacktop between two parallel lines.

He looks aimlessly as a chilly breeze teases his loose fallen hair.

Nines seems to notice his absence and stops mid stride, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“Gavin?”

Gavin’s not listening. He’s staring off at the very thing that started it all. 

The motorbike.

All previous thoughts are silenced, all worries set aside. Gavin swivels his head back around and smiles wickedly.

“I think I know what I wanna do today.”

 

---

 

Nines is not nearly as enthusiastic. In fact, it takes a grand amount of effort on Gavin’s part to finally convince him.

“Nines, c’mon. It’s just been sitting here for days. Let’s just take her for a spin.”

“After all the distasteful things you’ve had to say about it-”

Gavin throws his hands up. “I’m just saying.. You’ve left it out here in the cold..”

The android looks once more between him and the bike. The weather’s actually been fairly decent since their last little snow storm- with clear skies and frigid temps. Nothing at all too extreme for his trusted motor vehicle. Nines hasn’t even had to break out the cover- something he keeps neatly folded in the storage compartment just in case the forecast happens to take a turn for the worst. So, Gavin’s attempts were mute in regards to driving the bike solely on account of the weather. 

Which leads Nines to believe what he’s suspected all along.

That Gavin likes the bike.

That Gavin’s always liked the bike.

That he watches the Fast and Furious franchise fucking religiously, so it might even be fair to say that he admires fast cars and motor vehicles in real life. 

So, Nines caves, but he doesn’t bend easily. He takes a single step forward, gaze unwavering.

“Fine,” he says. Watching the excitement as it skitters behind Gavin’s eager eyes. Undercut by the hand that takes him by the chin in a firm hold, one that demands his undivided attention.

“But you will respect and abide by all traffic laws and you will not crash my bike. Understood?”

Gavin glowers at him. It’s painfully adorable. “I’m not gonna-”

“Understood?”

A deep sigh, a dramatic one. Nines could kiss his stupid lips for that.

“Understood,” Gavin groans, attempting to wiggle out of the android’s hold.

“Additionally,” Nines adds, offering a slight squeeze as if to nonverbally inform the smaller man that there was more to his list of conditions. “You will take back what you’ve said in the past. All those nasty comments, towards me and my bike specifically.”

This time Gavin rears back, still unable to break free from that iron grip. Nines just ends up squishing his cheeks between his slender fingers. 

“Are you serious!?”

The android sits like stone. Unmoving while he waits. Gavin simply pouts. 

“What if I just promise to suck your dick later?” He barters flatly, without even a lick of shame. Nines is almost intrigued. He hasn’t had the pleasure of Gavin’s mouth just yet and the thought certainly piques his interest.

“Don’t be crass,” he says instead, in an effort to remain somewhat despotic. An effort that certainly pays off, as Gavin finally submits with a tiny huff. 

“Fine. I’m sorry,” he grumbles, looking absolutely pitiful in the afternoon sun. 

It is simply gorgeous. 

“For what?”

“Nines.”

“We can stand here all day, Detective. I’m very patient.”

In a move of defeat, Gavin finally succumbs.

“Fine, fuck- I’m sorry for calling your motorbike dumb. And gay. And faggy- or whatever else I said. And I’m sorry for calling you all of those things too.”

There it is. Nines can’t help the smirk as he finally releases the smaller man. Watching him sulk as he then steps past him to unclip the helmet from his bike.

“Apology accepted.” He motions in a single command. “Now sit.”

Gavin’s still got that petulant look on his face, arms crossed all huffy like Nines doesn't let him get away with absolutely everything.

It’s worth it though to see the thrill in Gavin’s eyes when he finally drops that scowl. The body of the bike is a bit bulky, designed for highway driving, but the shell of it was still sleek and aerodynamic. Nines has never had issue mounting thanks to his taller stature, but Gavin has to pull himself up almost as he swings a leg over the seat. With his toes hardly reaching the pavement once he’s settled. Scooting himself forward in an effort to make room for his android counterpart. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. Hands over the handlebar grips already, getting a feel for it.

Nines passes the helmet next. 

“Put this on.”

It’s not up for debate. Gavin knows that, still he sends the android a distasteful look before reluctantly snatching it out of his hands. Nines takes the initiative to mount behind him while he puts the helmet on. The seat’s big enough for a passenger, but it’s a tight squeeze. He winds up flush against Gavin’s backside, with the smaller man squirming to get more comfortable. 

“Now this is familiar,” he purrs. Voice muffled under the tinted visor as he practically wiggles against the android’s lap. Nines taps the side of his helmet, unamused. 

“Focus,” he says. Skeptical enough as it is to let Gavin drive when he doubts the man has any prior experience already. 

Then again, he drives a stick shift, so surely there’s some cognizance knocking around in that skull somewhere. 

“Hey, don’t tap the glass-“

“Then pay attention.”

Nines unsheathes his hand, gesturing to each of the controls as he names them one by one. Wiggling the throttle, pumping the breaks, all for visual demonstration. 

“This is your gas, your break, and this is the clutch. You’ll notice you have a foot pedal here as well, that’s the back break.” He taps with the toe of his boot next to Gavin’s. It’s unclear whether any of this is registering. 

“M’kay.”

He sounds totally distracted, probably trying to figure out how to start the damn thing seeing as it doesn’t have an ignition slot. Operated only by touch start. 

Nines peers over the smaller man’s shoulder with an uninspired gaze. “Gavin. Are you listening?”

Gavin hits all the aforementioned controls in a cadence of impatience. “Gas, break, other break. Clutch. I got it,” he says. 

“You’re familiar already with gear shifting. It’s the same concept. Keep an eye on your RPM’s.”

Nines coaxes with a gentle hand on Gavin’s back, between his shoulder blades to bend him slightly forward, aligning him with the angle of the seat. 

“And you’ll want to lean with it,” he adds. Softer this time as he then reaches forward with that same hand, still in its factory state, to touch start the bike via interface. It connects to him almost instantly, lighting up an influx of information behind his eyes that he quickly skims and dismisses. All of which can be found simultaneously projected on the dash. 

Gavin tenses beneath him as the bike comes to life suddenly with a low growl. One that reverberates under the seat and evens out as it idles. Nines gives it a little gas, then flips a few more switches. Taking the bike out of park while Gavin adjusts his grip on the handlebars. 

“Now, it’s got a kick to it so be-“

But he should’ve known better. He should’ve expected the lurch when it happened, because Gavin’s proven time and time again that he’s not exactly the type to listen to simple instructions, or to heed the warnings presented to him. Not when he’s this excited. Too caught up in the promise of fast and loud to even bother with what Nines is telling him. 

He hits the gas, curls the handlebar like he’s seen in the movies and sends them flying forward with a loud roar. Throwing a swear to the wind- his favorite four letter word- and nearly ramming the front end of somebody’s Buick before Nines has a hand over his, hitting the break with precalculated precision. Forcing them to a hard stop, one that nearly sends Gavin over the windshield. 

One that would have if Nines didn’t have an arm around his waist to keep him planted. Despite all of this, Gavin laughs. Absolutely thrumming with adrenaline. He laughs in a way that makes Nines stop and think that he’s never actually heard Gavin laugh before. Not quite like he’s laughing now. 

Still, Nines simmers with a nettled expression. “Gentle,” he mutters flatly. Meanwhile, Gavin’s over the fucking moon. 

“Ha! Holy shit, that was fucking awesome! Hey, you ever raced this thing-?”

“ Gavin.”

Nines doesn’t mean to snap. He wants this to be a pleasurable experience for both of them- and he’d like to do that without the fear of collision.

The humor subsides. Gavin settles. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful,” he promises, muffled by the helmet but calmer, more serious. He readjusts his hands and puts a boot up on the footrest. 

“Where’m I goin’? Am I just goin’?”

With a stiff breath, Nines responds. “I’d prefer it if you stayed off the highways.”

Gavin simply shrugs.

“Fair enough.”

 

---

 

It’s a rocky start. The bike is heavy and difficult to maneuver through the parking lot and onto the main roads, where there’s multiple stop signs and slow moving traffic. Gavin finds himself a little frustrated, with a bruised ego more so than anything. Having hoped it would have been easier than it seemed. Solely so he could tease Nines about it later, but finds himself struggling instead. The android’s had to reach over and correct him a few times. Shifting is about the only thing he can get right and he keeps swearing under his breath. 

Though, despite his earlier reservations, Nines does a good job of encouraging the smaller man. He connects to the helmet’s built-in headset, so that Gavin can hear his instructions more clearly. A feature Gavin wasn’t aware of and wasn’t expecting either. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin at a stop light when Nines comes through the speakers suddenly.

“Can you hear me?”

“Whoa, what the fuck?”

“Eyes on the road, Detective.”

The traffic lights turn green. Gavin takes a moment to panic before he wobbles the bike into motion, swerving through the intersection with another colorful word muffled by the visor. 

“Fuck you, I’m watching-”

There’s that hand again, pushing him forward. But Gavin can’t see this far down. 

“You need to lean.”

“I can’t find my fuckin’ balance,” he argues. Unsteady at the wheel, looking every which way but up. 

Despite this, Nines is calm. His voice filtered by radio static. 

“That’s because you’re looking down instead of straight ahead.”

Gavin huffs, straightening his back once more to look over the handlebars. “I’m tryin’ to keep an eye on how fuckin’ fast I’m goin’-”

“I will tell you if you need to slow down. Right now I want you to focus on keeping your eyes forward.”  

There’s a gentle pressure against his back and a warmth that follows. Nines is blanketing him, persuading him to lean once more. 

“Stop trying to guide with your elbows. Lean with it,” he says again. Gavin sucks in a nervous breath. They’re coming up on another green light, one where the speed limit transitions from a thirty-five to a forty-five, with a wind in the road that Gavin’s otherwise familiar with in the safety of his own car. 

He thanks his lucky stars that nobody’s out on a Sunday. A few stragglers here and there, but traffic’s light. This gives him a little more confidence and he twists the throttle. Listening to the engine purr as it accelerates. Cold air whips around them, like knives on his bare hands. Gavin pays it no mind as they cross the street light. Approaching that first curve with a little more momentum. 

It’s easier to control when it’s up to speed, still, Gavin tries to steer with his arms. It jostles them. His heart shoots up into his throat with a sharp gasp, one that’s easily soothed with the arm around his waist pulling him flush and the weight on his back pushing him down. 

Nines persuades them, following the curve of the road and the tilt of the motorbike to help it glide along the pavement. 

“Much better,” Nines murmurs. Right in Gavin’s ear. Of course, that’s all thanks to the speakers. But Gavin can feel his chin hovering just above his shoulder and flushes beneath the shell of his helmet. 

His plastic hand finds Gavin’s on the throttle. There’s nothing but open road in front of them. 

“Give it some gas.”

“You sure?”

Nines revs for him. That’s all the permission Gavin needs. He cranks the throttle and accelerates forty to fifty, shifts with the clutch and races down dotted lines. Unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face as it finally starts to click. 

They drive for miles, with no destination in mind. Just them and the city limits, where Gavin’s got a few gems in mind. Hidden sanctuaries within their concrete jungle that he navigates via old highway roads. Memorized over time like the back of his hand and brings them to the waterfront, where he then pulls off and parks along the edge.

He brushes the wind out of his hair, helmet aside. His freezing hands tremble in a glacial breeze. With autumn comes an early evening. One that paints the sky in orange, purple hues. Gavin watches them shimmer across the white caps on the water, admires the reflection of skyscrapers shifting along the waves in the distant shoreline, and slouches back, right up against Nines. Cupping his palms over his lips in an attempt to warm them with his breath. 

“Are your hands cold?”

Nines once more is right in his ear, speaking aloud this time in a much softer voice. 

“A lil’ bit,” Gavin mutters. Flexing his rigid fingers. 

“Here.”

Gavin looks down, finding himself caged between two hands that are not his own, open palms facing up and ready to receive. He chuckles, clapping their hands together and lacing their fingers. They’re warm to the touch, much warmer than Gavin was anticipating and they only grow even more so the longer their hands stay clasped. 

“My own personal space heater,” Gavin muses. 

“Very funny.”

But, all jokes aside, it’s actually kind of nice. Soothing almost. Thawing much more than just his exterior skin. Lulling an age old hurt deep down in the darkest chasms of his chest. 

Maybe it’s the simple effects of golden hour, or perhaps it’s the way Nines leans in and nuzzles into the hair at the nape of his neck. Letting their hands fall to rest over Gavin’s thighs, still interlaced like woven wicker. 

It feels like something he once saw in a film reel, something only found between the pages of paperback novels. One word. Four little letters.

He squeezes a hand, once at first. Nines is surprisingly squishy.

“You about ready to get the fuck outta here?”

“I’m ready whenever you are, Detective.”

Gavin smiles a lazy smile, laying flush against the android’s chest, playing games with his own heart as he squeezes that same hand a second time. Butterflies in his gut, a flighty feeling in his chest.

“Let’s stop at yours first,” he says. Nines peers down, no doubt with those stunning opal eyes all heavy lidded. 

“Mine?”

Gavin turns his head. Murmuring. 

“Don’t you need more clothes?”

The android spreads into a knowing grin. Leaning in, lips ghosting against the shell of Gavin’s ear.

“Is that an invitation?”

His heart skips a beat, his blood runs hot.

Gavin squeezes a third time. Poignantly. Voice in a rasp.

“I guess it is.”

Nines seems elated. He powers the bike with only the simple flutter of his LED, by some wireless connection. Unwilling to let go just yet.

He simply beams. “Then I accept.”

 

---

 

Gavin may have had ulterior motives dragging them back to the West Village- to Nines’ apartment where they climb the elevator and stumble out into the hall. With Gavin unable to keep his hands to himself, bubbling with a newfound sense of jubilation. He’s got a hold of that slender waist all the way to the door, where Nines sends him a look- as if to tell him to settle without actually speaking. 

But what he doesn’t know is that Gavin’s had one thought in mind since his last and only visit. One that’s circled entirely around that cushy armchair by the window- where Nines had been all stretched out like he could go on and on for miles.

An image Gavin likes to edit without the added bullet wound, as that’s the only reason Nines didn’t have him on his knees that night- but he’s thought about it ever since.

He takes Nines by the front of his shirt once the door’s shut and yanks him down into a searing wet kiss. One that knocks him slightly off kilter. Avidly urging with his tongue, thinking if Nines is going to have him on his knees, then it’s going to be here- in that chair- where he's probably spent many a night lounging by the window. Watching life pass him by before he knew what he was even missing.

“Eager, are we?” Comes the android’s presumptuous tone, but he’s got no idea just how fucking eager Gavin actually is for this. 

Hand on his chest, Gavin walks him back, across the open expanse of his empty little apartment. A single light in the living space to guide the way as it flicks on via Nines’ command.

“You know, your apartment was closer,” he teases. Gavin’s got a primal look in his silver eyes, giving a little push as Nines hits the chair with the back of his calves. 

His ears pulse, his eyes light up with interest.

But Gavin’s still driving. 

“Sit.”

Nines moves to speak, Gavin just shoves him more forcefully this time. Successful in his effort to get the taller man seated. Speechless it seems as he stares wide eyed and minorly confused.

“Gav-?”

The human in question merely kicks his feet apart. Feeling dizzy in a rush of control. He sinks to his knees between the android’s parted legs, watching the information process behind that expression of bewilderment, notes the fact that Nines is gripping the armrests. That his breath is ignited along with that gentle hum in the very center of his frame. 

But he finds his composure somewhere in the mess of his scrambled harddrive.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he says finally. Gavin’s smug grin spreads across his face before he can think to suppress it.

“Yep.”

“You don’t have to.”

He breathes, with a burning need. A fiery ache.

“Niles. I really fucking want to,” he says. Watching those eyes darken. Nines swoops down so suddenly it pulls the air from his lungs. Snared by the face once more between two claws holding his jaw between their palms. Dragging him forward, close enough to start counting freckles.

“Say that again.”

Gavin’s gaze is unshaken. His lips twitch as they threaten to tug into a smile. 

He’s fucked. He’s so completely fucked. Overcome by this- this feeling. This euphoria. So plainly and fucking stupidily in-

“Niles.”

Ragged and breathless, Gavin kicks himself. He’s supposed to be in charge here. But there’s no going back. Nines shoves him back down, scoots down the edge of the seat and offers the human closer access to what’s between his legs. Torrid gaze searing into his flesh and bones. 

The sight alone has Gavin practically drooling. He tackles the belt, slips the leather strap from the buckle. Nines is already hard and he must want it bad because he lifts those same hips and assists Gavin in getting his pants down past the bulge. The human shuffles closer, leaning in to press a few steamy kisses along the exposed skin of his abdomen, shoving the android’s sweater up and out of the way. Fingers already curled into the waistband of his compression shorts.

Nines releases a heavy sigh, trying not to focus on the fact that he’s already too hot. A failure on his part as he keeps forgetting to let himself breathe. Watching Gavin slip further and further down, lingering over spandex. His lips just grazing that growing mound. Gavin looks up and tugs, dragging those shorts down just enough to take his cock out. It stands, full mast. 

He licks his lips this time. Gathering a generous amount of spit on his tongue, opening his mouth. The muscle peaks over his teeth before he drags it along the tip of Nines’ dick. The android simply watches with an intense sort of stare. One hand slips back into Gavin’s hair, his other is clenched in a fist up by his chin. Waiting with growing impatience as Gavin continues to tease, letting his tongue slide over the bell shaped ridge, then digs into the slit. Enthralled to hear a catch of breath in the taller man’s chest. He slides down the seat of the armchair just a touch more and spreads his knees in anticipation. 

“Gavin,” he huffs finally. The human chuckles. This is what he wants. Desperation.

“I should make you beg for it,” Gavin smirks, peering up with those dastardly grey eyes. 

Nines simply challenges this. “After how eager you were to get on your knees for me?” He tsks. “I think I’ll just let you enjoy yourself for a little while longer.” Unfazed while Gavin’s practically throbbing between his legs. 

He’s just a man after all and his brain is nothing but mush at this point. He leans back in and circles the head of Nines’ cock with his tongue once, catching a bead of precum that’s almost flavorless and finally wraps his lips round it, sinking down slowly. Sucking firmly on the way back up. Listening for the sigh that shakes the android’s frame and relishing in the way his fist curls in his hair. He takes it deeper the second time, generating more spit to help ease the way and swallows around the shaft. Amazed at how real it feels like he hasn’t had it inside of him several times already. 

He’s yet to draw a sound from Nines other than choppy breaths, so that becomes another challenge that Gavin quickly accepts. Hollowing his cheeks to take him even deeper. He loves head. Giving and receiving- and he’s good at it too, and he wants to hear Nines swear again. So, he swallows around his shaft and bobs his head. Dipping down even lower. Feeling the tip brush the back of his throat. It makes him cough just a little. It’s been a while, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. 

The sound, however, garners a tighter hold on his hair and a tremor to pass through those gorgeous thighs. Gavin could smile if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied. He raises one hand, places it up by the android’s knee and pushes his legs further apart. Bobbing his head again. 

This time, Nines hums. It’s a start. What Gavin doesn’t know is that he’s trying so desperately not to come so fast because he wants to draw this out for as long as he can. Fighting the urge to fuck his hips up into that skillful mouth and ride it to completion, thinking that might be too much too soon but puts the idea on a back burner for another time and focuses instead on counting his breaths.

Gavin chokes again and pulls off wetly. His searing eyes meet Nines. His lips are swollen and he’s got drool on his chin that Nines wants to sample. He huffs again instead, feeling the pleasure that had been coiling in his gut slowly dissipate without the added stimulation. 

Gavin can see that he’s close and wonders if Nines even realizes the mess he’s become. All slouched down in his chair, hard cock on display and glistening with Gavin’s spit. Temple a solid yellow. 

He leans forward, wrapping a loose fist around the shaft. Jerking it once, then twice before he’s tonguing the slit again. Nines squirms beneath him. Wraps a leg around him just to urge him even closer. Gavin swallows him back down, all too eager to please. Still searching for more pretty noises as he struggles to open the button of his jeans one handed. 

He gets a hand around his own dick and chokes again. Taking Nines to the hilt as he strokes himself. Pleasure singing beneath the touch of his palm, precum slicking the back of his throat. Gavin moans and-

Nines throws his head back. Takes one gracious breath and groans. 

“Oh fuck..”

Gavin’s head rings with pride. There it is. He swallows again, drags his tongue and sucks. Harder this time. He gets another ragged moan for his efforts. Gavin jerks himself off with more fervor, more urgent need. He feels a fist curl into his hair, feels Nines as he starts to shake. Coming suddenly, arching off the back of the armchair with another breathy sound that comes out almost like a chuckle. Flooding the back of Gavin’s throat with hot, sticky release that he slowly swallows. Savoring every last drop before spilling into his own practiced hand, unable to help it.

It’s just too fucking good.

He pulls away wetly. A mess in his pants that he’ll deal with when the fog clears. For now, he can bask in the lamplight. Staring up at Nines, Nines staring back at him. Their breaths in staggered unison. 

Once more, Gavin is pulled into a loose embrace as Nines curls his legs around his shaking frame. Stroking his chin with a tender hand. Gavin melts against his touch.

Thinking he’s too far gone to fight this feeling any longer.

Notes:

I went back and forth between scrapping one of those smut scenes. I couldn't force myself to do it. They were both vital.

Also GAVIN LIKES LOUD AND FAST

HES HEALING HIS INNER CHILD

AND NINES THINKS ITS FUCKING PRECIOUS

I cryyyyy. I love them. I hope you loved them.

Thanks always for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated <3

Chapter 18: Snapshots

Notes:

*Cutely makes Gavin an actual human being with traumas and feelings because I've become stupidly attached to his character*

This chapter is a lot, like emotionally. We're gonna be doin' some flashbacks. So, sorry in advance if you were hoping for more fluff. We're doing a quick lil backstory here.

I say that like it won't continue into next chapter- BUT IT'S IMPORTANT OKAY? IT SHAPED MY BABY BOI

I'm also aware that this makes Elijah not very canon, but I tried to keep it pretty close. Obviously, the creators of DBH refuse to admit that they're actual siblings, so we the people have to take matters into our own hands.

That being said,

TW: for mentions of drug abuse, child neglect and abuse. Minor violence, mentions of poverty. Blood- minorly, and the briefest mentions of a dead body

I think that covers most of it.

Also, Gavin's name was almost Curtis and that cracks my shit up for no reason.

(I am sleep deprived)

Enjoy! :)

They find the will to move eventually. Gavin stands and nearly buckles, cursing under his breath- thinking his knees aren’t what they used to be as he struggles to close up his soiled jeans. It’s worth the discomfort to watch Nines rise and squeeze himself back into his compression shorts. The ones he wears under his pants to compensate for the equipment he was blessed with.

Gavin teases him all the time, but he’s silent now. Still riding the head high as he stumbles back. Rosey red cheeks and lucent lips. His eyes flicker just to catch the android staring- marveling in a quiet admiration. With a lopsided subtle grin that Gavin has no clue what to do with but he has the nerve to squint.

“What?”

Nines comes forward just to close the gap and reaches with those hands- always with the face grabbing. Gavin wonders what that’s all about before Nines wipes his chin with the clean drag of his thumb.

“You. You’re a mess,” he says, but he stares at Gavin like he’s something special. It makes him squirm, still mushy and unsettled by his earlier squeezes. Still grappling to process his recent epiphany like he didn’t just silently profess something he can never say aloud. 

“Whatever. Just grab your shit so we can get the fuck outta here,” Gavin quips. He’s in no hurry to pull away despite this. He waits for Nines to release him on his own accord. A momentary loss as Gavin doesn’t let him go far. He follows like a shadow, as he has been since their reunion and it’s a theme that’ll likely continue for as long as Nines will allow it. 

But Nines is completely unbothered. He revels in Gavin’s closeness, finding comfort in his lingering presence. 

Not to say that Gavin’s up his ass all the time, just that he’s never far away. Even now, he’s meandering about while Nines gathers some things- though he doesn’t need much considering the weekend they spent together. But he does need thirium, so he stops by the fridge while Gavin takes it upon himself to rifle through the android’s closet. Finding black shirt after black shirt, each pressed to perfection, hanging like soldiers on identical plastic hangers.

“Man, you need more color,” Gavin says.

Nines approaches, pouch in hand and straw to his lips. 

“I have color,” he states simply, earning a disbelieving side eye in response to this.

“You’ve got one red sweater in here.”

Nines pinches his shirt for emphasis. “I wore blue today.”

“Okay, so two colors. That’s a start,” Gavin teases, though something glimmers in the back of the closet. Emitting a gentle glow amidst the rest of the fabric.

“Hey, what’s this?” Gavin reaches before Nines can think to object. Snagging the hanger to closely inspect what’s caught his eye. Finding stained and tattered cloth, barely gripping the plastic that holds it. Gavin tilts his head curiously, noting the color-block design and the sharp line of an electric-blue armband. Instantly recognizing the triangular CyberLife insignia stamped on one shoulder and finding in bold white lettering on the other: RK900.

It dawns on him suddenly: this was Nines’ Cyberlife uniform. He looks it over again. The left side seems to have taken some damage. Cobalt stains the sleeve and it’s torn in a clean cut past the elbow. Offering some insight into what happened to the android seeing as Nines has otherwise been very vague about it. Just that he’d been damaged, but not much more than that.

But there’s another striking detail that Gavin decides to mention instead. Knowing from his own personal experiences how it feels to be constantly reminded of such traumatic injuries. 

“They put you in white,” Gavin remarks, finding irony in the attire given the fact that Nines wears predominantly all black. 

Nines finishes a sip of thirium and answers simply, distantly almost.  

“Yes.”

Gavin shifts his gaze, lifting his head precariously. “Why did you keep it? I mean, it’s not like you could wear it again if you wanted to,” he says. Watching the android fixate on the fabric in his hand with such hollow eyes.

“Janice offered to have it repaired,” he says morosely. Gavin feels a twinge in his chest.

“But, you didn’t take her up on that,” he presumes. 

“No,” Nines mutters. He fidgets thoughtfully, crinkling the near empty pouch in his hands. “It’s hard to explain. I’m not going to trouble her over something so senseless. I just.. I kept it because it’s a part of me.”

But Gavin gets it. He completely understands. He’s got a similar stash of memories in a box beneath his bed where he keeps his own artifacts of the past hidden away. Old relics he’s refused to let go of.

Silently, he puts the coat back in the closet, in its designated spot towards the back and steps away. Approaching Nines with a tender look in his eyes. The android straightens, always impassive at first glance, but Gavin’s able to read between the lines at this point. He peels Nines’ left hand away from his thirium packet, twists it palm up and strokes over the heel with the pad of his thumb.

“Was it close?” He wonders, watching the synthskin recede past his wrist in response to the touch. Nines merely shrugs, rotating his hand as Gavin slips under his sleeve for a closer look.

“It was tedious,” Nines explains. “Cyberlife stores were closing and converting. So, it was hard to find anyone actually qualified to repair it. A human doctor eventually decided just to cauterize it.”

Gavin finds the seam in the plastic just past the ball joint of his wrist. It disappears in a bumpy line beneath the joined cotton of his sweater and the leather of his jacket. Still, Gavin traces it.

Turns out he’s not the only one with scars.

“Damn.”

Nines pulls back gently, softly reassuring the human as the color returns to his hand. “I felt no pain, Gavin. It’s fine.”

“No. I just mean.. “ His throat closes and constricts. Unable to express it, this ache beneath his ribs. He tried to squash it earlier, tried not to carry it past the elevator, but seeing Nines’ Cyberlife uniform and knowing what he’s been through, that he was found busted all to hell and still deemed worth fixing- worth keeping- brought forth emotions Gavin hasn’t had to face in years. Likely because his impending reunion with his own brother was just days away, that he had to damn near beg for it in the first place, when Nines is just out here existing with people who would move mountains for him.

And he’s just so indifferent about the whole damn thing. 

“Gavin?”

He’s been silent for too long. Gavin tries not to be bitter, tries to swallow his resentment and manages to breathe instead. 

“Look, I know you don’t wanna talk about it, so let me just start off by saying: I think it’s hot as fuck that you wanna be respected in the workplace, and that you wanna earn that respect on your own.”

Nines’ LED flutters, his gaze fixed on Gavin in a way that’s both inquiring and phlegmatic.

“But it’s okay to embrace those opportunities. If it’s any consolation, I think you’d be a great addition to the force. Just as, if not better than anybody else they’d hire,” the human continues and looks up sweetly. Nines studies him, like he’s trying to calculate what was really said beneath his words.

“You’re being pedantic,” he says finally. In a monotonous voice. One that grates at Gavin just a tad.

“I’m just sayin’,” Gavin’s voice changes. Heavy. Thoughtful. It makes Nines’ auditory sensors tighten like they’re bracing for something. “There’s people out there who’d give anything for that kind of support.”

Nines narrows his eyes slightly. “Is this still about my placement?”

Gavin doesn’t answer right away. He holds his breath. 

“Just appreciate what you have,” he says slowly. “And fuckin’ own it. And fuck everybody else, okay?”

Nines watches him a moment longer, tapping that packet thoughtfully with the tip of his index finger. Finally, he bridges the gap between them with two simple steps. Reaching with a free hand to hold and stroke Gavin’s cheek. The human seems to lean into his touch with sad, doleful eyes. Where the tenderness is welcome, but the feeling doesn’t subside. 

Gavin’s been somehow stripped completely raw. Struggling to suppress the memories that come to him in vivid snapshots. Things he’d rather leave in the deep dark corners of his mind, lest he start to wallow in what was and what could have been if things had been different. 

If his father had stayed, if his mother was clean. 

If his brother wasn’t Elijah Kamski.  

But, of course, nothing’s ever come to Gavin’s hand the way he wished it. He played the cards he was dealt with much less grace than any real card game he’s ever played just to get by. Taking loss after loss like he was stuck at the round table, hoping- praying for an ace. Just to come up empty every time. 

Perhaps that’s why he feels so despondent, finding Nines’ tattered jacket in the back of his closet. Knowing his story, his connections. 

His found family. 

Something Gavin’s been robbed of thanks to shitty situation and circumstance.

But projection is pathetic, so he absorbs these things like a sponge. Then leans in to steal a kiss before Nines can think to give him another once over.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Gavin repeats, in a murmur against the android’s lips. Still cradled by his palm. Nines offers another peck, diffusing his concern for another time. 

His hand falls away, and Gavin feels the absence like an old bruise. Following Nines once more as he finishes his earlier task of preparing for another night away from his quiet studio. Lingering like smoke. Afraid once more that if he doesn’t hold on tight enough this will all vanish.

It always does.

But he’s clinging this time.

 

---

 

The memories come, but they don’t go. Gavin revisits them on the drive back like a scrapbook of blurry candids. Most of which he can’t stand to look at on account of the sting. Still, they replay like broken film. 

It wasn’t all grey skies though. His well runs deep enough, he can still remember pieces of the golden days. The sounds- the ambiance- of them and brief images that flash like his mother’s trusted Polaroid camera. It still blinds him in the back of his mind. 

It’s safe to say he was a very rambunctious child. Always running, always loud and squealing with jovial laughter. This he remembers clearly, as they were celebrating the start of a new life in a new house. Yellow brick with a white picket fence and pretty pink flower beds that his mother had fawned over time and time again.

Gavin can still recall move-in day like the back of his hand- one of those memories safely kept in the shoe box beneath his bed. 

His bare feet in the grass. Racing amongst fresh cut blades of emerald green. His heart beating wildly in his chest, faster than his little legs could run. A strong arm had swept in from the sky and carried him off feet. He thrashed and he kicked, laughing and screaming ferociously. 

To no avail. He had been captured. 

“Gotcha!”

“Down! I wan’ down!”

“Nope. Mommy wants a picture,” came the orotund tenor of his father’s voice. The sun blocked him out, but Gavin could still feel the wall of his chest as he’d fought against it. Flailing in a useless attempt to free himself. 

But his dad was big and he was tough; a worthy opponent.

“Liz, hurry! He’s almost loose!”

By that point, they’d made it halfway up the front porch steps. Curtis Reed had struggled to maintain his balance with a squirmy toddler as he sat, nearly falling back as he’d situated a tiny Gavin on his knee. 

Off in the distance, a long, sinewy figure had quickly passed an old camera to a friendly neighbor. Bounding up to the house, long dark hair flowing in silky locks behind her back. Blue floral skirt in the wind. Radiant in a summer sun. Elizabeth Reed was young and she beautiful, truly. Dazzling with her witty charms and her exuberant nature. 

“Coming! I’m coming,” she chirped, taking the hand of a small child, bigger than Gavin was. With similar strands of crow feather hair atop his head. Guiding him up the neatly kept concrete pathway leading up to the porch where his big brother had carefully climbed the stairs, slipping his hand from their mother’s grasp to settle in. Standing calm and composed on the second step, perfect and unmessy in a way that Gavin never was. 

Liz’s hand had settled on Eli’s shoulder as the camera snapped. Gavin remained on his father’s lap. He’d felt the coarse stubble of his cheek pressed against his temple. 

They felt untouchable in that moment. Picture perfect.

It wouldn’t last.

 

---

 

His mother would be t-boned at a cross section six months later. An accident that would leave her bed bound for weeks with a heavy prescription to manage the pain. Gavin remembers spending Christmas in the hospital. A, “make the best of a shitty situation,” sort of thing where they were camped out on cots most nights. The beeping on the bedside monitors remain ingrained in his mind today as they’d kept him awake when he was a child. Gavin was already difficult at bedtime, but he was especially fussy in those days. 

He remembers the pacing. Watching the gritty linoleum beneath his father’s feet as he was carried back and forth in a last ditch effort to lull him to sleep. This often happened out in the hallway, where nurses would stop and offer to assist, but his father always turned them away.

He doesn’t remember much else from that point in time, but that he’d often wake up in a shared cot next to his older brother and that his father would be slumped over in an armchair by his mother’s side. Another image stamped into his memory. 

He’s aware of the fact that his father missed a lot of work during this time, he didn’t have a choice. Not with two little boys and a bed ridden wife, one whose recovery would later lead to her own demise as she was never the same coming home after the fact. She was detached and angry without her meds, so she and his father began to argue all the time. Gavin could still hear their muffled shouts as they filled the empty space of their once loving home.

And he always cried any time his parents would fight as they would often erupt like active volcanoes. Daddy’s voice was scary and Mommy was always slamming things. Too swept up in the midst of their own storm to realize their youngest was quivering at their feet. 

“Would you just fucking handle him?” Was a phrase that became easily tossed around like loose change. Often times while Gavin was still crying, making grabby hands at the nearest adult- begging for comfort in his own child-like way, just before his mother would lock herself in the bathroom with a slamming door and his father would huff and puff and turn and snatch him off the ground. With hands like talons. Too fast, too rough. Gavin would demand to be put down. Always deposited next to his older brother- whose sole responsibility became that of soothing Gavin’s tantrums. Something he managed to do with picture books and VHS tapes. Huddled under the same blanket. Sometimes he’d ruffle Gavin’s hair, sometimes he’d read to him. Always with the funny voices when switching between characters. Minor distractions to the fact that their foundation was crumbling. That their little family was slowly falling apart.

Gavin was only four when his father finally left. With what feels like no explanation other than things between him and Liz became too volatile, that he was beaten down over time with stacks upon stacks of unshared responsibility. Long shifts, two boys, an unkept house, and a partner whose main concern was when could she refill her next prescription. Like an angel falling from grace. Still gorgeous in her youth, but corroding away inside like a rotting willow tree.

Another snapshot in his book of tragedies. The waxing moonlight illuminated their shared bedroom in a dull haze. Gavin woke to the sound of shouts again, another heavy thud as a door was thrown downstairs. He searched the sheets for a warm body, but found empty space instead. His foggy eyes happened across the shrunken figure of his older brother, standing by their single window. Gavin rubbed his eyes in a sleepy manner. His little voice called out.

“Bubby?”

His little feet hit the carpet and carried him across the room. Eli was tall enough to look outside without standing on his toes, but Gavin had to stretch. He could hardly make out anything more than shapes and shadows. He remembers the tail lights blinking and his father’s silhouette as it’d disappeared into the driver’s side of their outdated SUV. Remembers straining his little legs and struggling to balance. That he fell back before he could watch it pull away. 

Nothing more was said between them. But Gavin still recalls the moisture in his brother’s eyes as he’d continued to look through the glass. Like an empty shell. He remembers reaching in the dark, tugging the older boy’s sleeve to coax him back to bed.

He didn’t understand, but Eli did.

 

---

 

Time moved on despite what seemed like a monumental break. Of course, things spiraled quickly. Without steady income, they lost the house. Moving them out to slums of some sub neighborhood wedged in the heart of Detroit like a cancerous mass. A downgrade from the yellow house. This one was dirty white shingles and a tiny yard, one where the grass grew in patches and the chain link fence was busted in the back. The rooms inside were tiny with scuffed hardwood and smoke stained walls. With a narrow staircase that led to a single bedroom upstairs, one he and Eli would share and a half bath just down the hall. 

Gavin grew louder and more wild just to fill some kind of void, to bring life to their dull surroundings. While Eli grew more disconnected, burying his nose in every book he could get ahold of, a studious trait nurtured by their mother, who despite her downfall, was forced to find some sort of management with her opioid addiction. She could curve enough of it to handle a part time job at the local library, and even become more present in her son’s lives again. 

But she was no stranger to bad days, as a bitter seed of resentment was planted within her. She stared at Gavin sometimes. Too long and too quiet. Often lashing out in a fit of drug-addled rage. 

She never beat him, but she was rough sometimes. Angry and uncoordinated thanks to the pills and whatever cheap liquor she paired them with. A recipe for disaster when mixed with his overzealous need to be loud and fast as he was banished to his room more often than not. All the way at the top of those stairs. 

The very steps that would brand him in a pivotal way when he was only seven. When push finally came to shove. He could still feel the imprint of her hands behind his back. Could hear the crack as his face hit the edge of a wooden step, and feel the pain that detonated behind his skull. Pulsing white hot as he’s held the blood to his nose. Skittering up the steps without even a sound, in fear that any more commotion might set his mother off again. 

Eli found him in the half bath, attempting to stem the flow with wads of toilet paper. 

At that point, Gavin was hiccupping past the tears. Crimson stains down his face and dotted on his shirt. Eli looked at him somberly. 

“You just remind her of dad sometimes,” is what he said after he grabbed the gauze from the closet and dabbed his wound with wet cotton balls of hydrogen peroxide. The words lodged somewhere deeper than the pain, but it was obvious. Eli looked like their mother. With his dark, satin hair and his pale skin. Their blues eyes were a clean match framed by thick lashes and he wore her slender nose just the same. Meanwhile, Gavin was a dead ringer for their father. With a sun tanned complexion and his chestnut colored locks. Even the curve of his smile matched the one in the photograph he once found in his mother’s purse. It haunts him later in life. The older he gets, the more he resents his own reflection. 

But at least the scar differentiates him from Curtis, so Gavin comes to accept the added addition as it slowly heals.

It’s still a reminder. 

 

---

 

Despite the circumstances, life was never dull. Gavin was a regular goofball, even in spite of his mother’s neurotic behavior- a normalcy for him in his young mind as he’d grown accustomed to the emotional whiplash of being her precious baby one minute and the bane of her existence the next. All while his brother was growing more and more into a phenomenon. 

Gavin was still learning basic math by the time Eli was correcting his teachers. Surpassing his peers and blowing his standardized tests clear out of the water. 

By ten, he’d tested out of the state’s high school curriculum. At eleven, he was taking community college courses three nights a week. Gavin only remembers this because he and his mother would sometimes sit in the parking lot outside and listen to the radio while they waited. She’d let him climb up front if she was in a good mood, swapping stations and humming along like she knew every song in the world. Often skimming a magazine she’d snagged from the 7/11 while he drove his hot wheels all over the dash.

Happier times. Before things became more complicated as his older brother quickly garnered the attention of higher ranking college professors. They started receiving phone calls and letters- everyone wanted a piece of Detroit’s little boy genius. But none more than Amanda Stern, a professor who caught wind of Eli through the academic grapevine. 

Gavin remembers meeting her with a sour taste in his mouth, on a night like any other. The community tech parking lot, his mother’s Chrysler. Dark and foggy, the pavement still glittering from an earlier burst of autumn rain.

His mother was lounged back in the driver’s seat, smoke curling past the cherry of her menthol cigarette. A rare, tender moment between them as his head had been resting in her lap, legs stretched across the bench seat. He was busy with a happy meal toy he favored while she lazily twirled a few locks of his hair between her fingers.

A motion she paused before she’d glanced down at him thoughtfully. 

“You didn’t have any homework, did you?”

Gavin’s not sure if she really cared, or if she was just making conversation. But he remembers shaking his head. 

“Nope,” he said, and she pinched his nose. 

“Liar,” she teased and he giggled. 

That’s when something slapped the driver’s side window. Startling them both. 

“Eli- for god’s sake,” Liz sighed after a sharp gasp, smoke curling past her lips. Gavin had shot straight up and turned. 

His brother was illuminated outside by a flickering street lamp. Not even dressed in his coat and visibly excited. 

“Mom! Mom, come inside!” He tugged the door open and snagged her by the wrist.  

She was shaking her head. “Honey, don’t pull. My back-”

But Eli wasn’t listening. He simply switched his grip to the sleeve of her sweater. “There’s somebody who wants to meet you.”

“Baby, I’ve already met all your professors-”

“This one’s different,” Eli insisted. “You haven’t met her yet. C’mon, mom. Please?”

“It’s just some fancy pants who only likes you for your fat head,” Gavin piped up, marching his little action figure across the steering wheel. 

“Shut up, Gavin. You can't even spell, ‘orange.’”

“Yuh huh. O-R-A-”

“Boys,” Liz silenced them both, with an uninspired look behind her deep set eyes.

“Do I have to go?” Gavin asked, matching her tone. He hadn’t been keen on meeting another one of Eli’s snooty, big wig professors, but his mother wasn’t about to let her eight year old have free reign of the car. 

“Yes,” she said. Though it felt more like she was saying, “if I have to suffer, then so do you.”

He groaned and probably rolled his eyes with an overdramatic flair, but he stumbled out of the car without much of a fuss.

His mother shook her head as they followed the prodigal son, already bounding up ahead. 

“Jeez, you ever see him this excited at home?”

Gavin responded in a laugh as he shuffled along behind them. They reached the glass doors. Liz went to open them, but Eli quickly snatched her smoke away and tossed it.

“Mom, put your cigarette out,” he’d chastised- something only Eli could get away with. 

Liz still scolded him. “Eli Reed-” and scoffed. “I better be meeting the fuckin’ President.”

They followed him inside. Fluorescent lighting replaced the fog. Eli led the way without slowing, the sound of his shoes on the waxed linoleum echoed down the corridor. One that seemed to stretch on and on forever. Gavin still recalls the humming from the yellow-tinted over head lights and the shadows on the walls. 

School just felt wrong after dark. He remembers drifting into his mother. Sliding his small hand into hers.

She didn’t look down, but she squeezed once- and for that moment, he felt safer.

At the far end, a pair of double doors waited. Eli’s peers were still filing out, but inside, a petite woman stood up by the podium. Chin lifted, like she was used to being the tallest person in every conversation. Even from across the room, her eyes locked on them with an interest that made Gavin’s stomach twist.

Professor Stern introduced herself primly, under the guise of simply observing. What Gavin knows now is that she was only there because of what she’d heard about his brother, that she was watching him for weeks before she’d made her approach.

“Your son is very gifted,” she said, in a lilted, melodic voice. Liz stood behind the son in question, hands on his narrow shoulders. Gavin remembers how his brother stood so attentively in Amanda’s presence. Head held high, laser focused and astute. So unlike the muted child he was at home.

“My little Einstein,” his mother replied. She smiled, but it sounded tired. Praise for her oldest had long since lost its novelty.

Amanda flashed a fancy card in response, pinched between two manicured fingertips. Her mouth curved slightly, but her eyes stayed cool. “Unfortunately, I believe Elijah’s burned through just about every resource here. Perhaps we can discuss what’s next.” 

Gavin’s not sure what possessed him, but he squinted at her. All dressed up in her big fancy jewelry and her perpetual scowl.

“His name’s E- li, not E- lijah,” he sneered, like some snot nosed brat. Earning a head snap from both mother and brother. One startled, the other silently seething. Amanda just studied him for a moment, as if cataloguing a problem she didn’t plan to solve. Then her attention slid neatly back to Eli.

His mother let out a breathy laugh as if to brush this off, smoothing a hand over Gavin’s hair as if to keep him still rather than to show affection. 

“Sorry- this one's my problem child.”  

A statement that stung. One that followed him. But not like the look his brother gave him- like Gavin had just said the wrong thing in front of someone who mattered to him. It only made his resentment for Eli’s new mentor grow even deeper. Planted like loathful roots in his chest.

But Amanda got what she wanted in the end. She convinced their mother to visit her campus out in California that spring, all expenses paid, of course. Another flash from his childhood that he’d rather forget as it marks one of the most pivotal moments of his and his brother’s lives.

The cross section at where they began to separate. 

 

---

 

Gavin could recite this little field trip like it happened yesterday. On a sprawling campus, surrounded by white stone buildings and red brick walkways- where he was forced to wear a nice button up shirt that was too scratchy and ironed dress pants and shiny shoes that pinched his feet. Following behind his mother. All dolled up in a white blouse with her hair pulled back and another flowy skirt- she kept fidgeting. Kept tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears, kept smoothing out her shirt. Trained on Amanda and her gaggle of interns while they toured quiet hallways lined with plaques and met people who shook Eli’s hand like he was already someone important. 

He tried to keep up at first, but the words were big and the rooms were boring, so he resorted to hopping from stone to stone between buildings. Though his mother kept snatching the back of his collar to keep him in line, Gavin still kicked at loose pebbles and made funny faces at the interns when they weren’t looking. He managed to steal a few chuckles from his brother and a couple unheeded side eyes from his mother, who already seemed on edge given the surrounding status of the place. But he paid it no mind. He was only eight, and he’d been bored out of his fucking skull.

So, by the time they reached the campus gardens, he’d already earned himself a few more warning glances, and he would soon reap the consequences.

He can’t remember exactly what was going on around him. Professor Stern was talking- something about “mentorship” and “accelerated opportunities.” His mother was nodding along, clutching her purse strap like it might keep her from floating out of place and there was a big pretty fountain that shimmered. 

Gavin peered over the edge and gasped.

“Eli, look! A koi pond-!”

“Gavin.” His mother’s voice snapped like a whip.

And Gavin froze. All at once, all eyes were on him. Eli’s, wide and worrisome. Amanda’s blatantly unimpressed, along with the rest of her brigade. Having been silenced by Gavin’s outburst-

And his mother.

With a glare that practically seared over his skin. As if she could burn two holes straight through him.

That look meant trouble. Bad news. He should’ve seen it coming. 

She was at his side in an instant, her fingers tightening around his arm, pulling him away from the group without breaking her strained smile. He felt her nails press through the fabric of his sleeve.

“Mom-?”

And then she slapped him. 

Hard.  

The crack of it was swallowed by the courtyard noise, but Gavin felt it bloom across his cheek.

“Knock it off,” she warned. Her tone was lethal, her index finger was right in his face. “Your brother has a real shot here. Do not mess this up for him.”

Gavin was in such a state of shock. The pain hardly had a chance to set but his lip was already quivering. His vision blurred by an onset of tears that only seemed to irk his mother all the more.

“Don’t start, Gavin.”

But it was too late. He crumpled like loose leaf paper. Liz let out a heavy sigh like she’d rather be anywhere else than dealing with her son’s oncoming meltdown. She took him by the wrist, towing him towards the nearest building. One just a stone’s throw away. Muttering as they went.

“Just like your fucking father- you don’t fucking think.”  

Then found the family restrooms and led him to the sink. 

“Head down,” she instructed, turning the faucet on so that cold water could run freely down the drain. 

Gavin gripped the porcelain, standing on his toes. His tears mixed with the running water. She rinsed his face and ran wet fingers through his hair while he continued fighting harsh spasms.

“I-I’m sorry, mom-“

“Calm down.”

She ripped a few paper towels from the dispenser to dry his face.

Gavin winced, between her words and the rough material scratching over his skin. He remembers her being knelt down. Brushing his loose strands out of his eyes with a frustrated sigh. Vacantly, like she was looking right through him.

He wanted to reach for her- and he almost did. But she stood before he could gather the courage. Digging in her purse for something to take the edge off. A couple of pills, a hit off a cigarette. Then led him back out when she was composed. Hand between his shoulder blades.

Gavin was soothed by the contact, but he didn’t look at her. 

There was no need for little white lies either. It was apparent that nobody even knew they were missing. 

Gavin likes to think his brother might’ve noticed. They shared a glance, but they never spoke about it. 

He’d been left by the koi pond shortly after. Dropped off like yesterday’s newspaper while the adults branched off in private conversation. It felt like he was being shunned, but Gavin didn’t mind. He simply watched the swirls of red, white and gold as they’d danced beneath the ripples. 

“Cyprinus rubrofuscus,” came a quiet voice. One that resonates still in the back of his mind. 

Gavin perked up and found his brother. The image of him remains vivid. Neat polo shirt, khaki pants. His hair brushed back. 

“What?”

Eli took another step closer, hands casually placed in his pockets. “They’re like fancy carp,” he said. Leaning over the edge of the fountain for a better look.

“You’re weird,” Gavin muttered, but without much bite. A moment of silence passed between them. 

“Are you gonna go to school here?” His voice was small and strained in the back of his throat. Eli came closer. Their shoulders nearly touched. 

“I hope so. Mom said we’d talk about it later.”

Gavin sniffed. 

“Are you gonna come home ever?” He croaked. Leaning into the older Reed, reeling for comfort. 

Eli simply nudged him. 

“Of course,” he said softly. But there was distance in his tone. Like he was already gone. Gavin clenched his hands.

“I’m sorry I made the lady mad,” he fought back the tears in his voice. Still wobbling from what happened in the bathroom. Eli glanced over his shoulder quickly at his mentioned tutor. 

“Amanda’s not angry,” he assured. Still, Gavin reiterated. 

“You promise you’re gonna come home?”

Finally, a soothing hand ruffled his hair. It loosened something in his chest.

“I promise.”  

 

---

 

In the present, Gavin tries not to let his recollections seep too deep. Still, he swallows past the lump in his throat. The November air bites at the exposed skin of his hands, so he tucks them further beneath the leather of Nines’ jacket. Grateful for the helmet, relieved to be riding passenger instead of driving this time- so he can hold on without calling it a hug and nuzzle into Nines’ without having to explain. 

At a red light, Nines glances at the reflection in his side mirror. Just a second- long enough to read more into his posture than Gavin would ever admit. His hand leaves the throttle to squeeze Gavin’s leg- brief, firm, grounding. The heat of it lingers even as they roll forward again, cutting through more than just the winter chill.

It plucks a heartstring beneath his ribs. Even if it lasts for just a moment before the light turns. He’s not sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the miserable mood he’s sunk into, or the fact that no one’s touched him like that in a long time.

The warmth follows him, threading past the cold air and into the places he tries not to look. It reminds him of afternoons when the house still felt half-full, before Eli grew more distant and his mother faded into an empty shell. 

It comes in fragmented snippets. Dinner on the table shifted to the couch. Weekly phone calls with his brother became once a month- then every so often. His mother’s shaky hands and the routine clatter of a pill bottle behind locked doors were a warning bell in his mind to steer clear.

Still, Gavin clung to the warmth. Movie nights, snuggle puddles when he was still small enough for her to hold, laughing on speaker phone with his brother. Nevermind that Amanda was slipping money under the table, that his mom lost her job, or that more often than not, she was foggy eyed and slurring her words.

Eventually, they became strangers in the same home- sometimes colliding in fits of desperation on Gavin’s part, and lashing out on hers. And the worse it got, the more he learned how quickly love could turn sharp.

She once caught him flushing her pills. He was twelve. Stole her phone too because he’d been at his wits end with it. Dialed Eli and locked the bathroom door before she could catch him. Empty orange bottle on the sink, the heavy thuds of her fists banging on the other side. 

His brother sounded groggy, like he’d been sleeping. That checked out, Gavin remembers it being late that evening.

“Hello?”

His heart had jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice. He clutched the phone like a lifeline. “E? E can you-?”

“Gavin? What’re you doing with mom’s phone?”

More banging and a jiggle from the door knob. 

“Gavin Reed, open the fucking door!”

Tears sprung. Gavin remembers pacing across the tiles with a sick twist in his gut.

“I flushed her pills. She’s mad.”

He remembers the long sigh at the end of the receiver and the pause that followed.

“Gavin, you can’t do that. It’s not going to make her stop,” Eli said quietly. There was a hopelessness in his voice. Acceptance. This is who their mother was and nothing would ever change that. But Gavin refused to believe it.

He shook his head, the pounding stopped. His mother went to fetch a butter knife to twist the lock, so his time was fleeting. He slid back to the door and pressed against it, preparing for the inevitable.

“Can you just come get me?” He asked in sheer desperation. 

“From California?”

The knob rattled again. Gavin had the entire weight of himself pressed against the door. Becoming more and more frantic.

“The professor lady can send someone-”

“Gavin-”

His voice broke, a single tear fell and landed somewhere on his faded t-shirt. “Please, E- you can do anything you want. Just ask her at least.”

A sudden, violent shove against the door jolted him. He still remembered the shock of how much strength she could muster as the frame gave way. How he stumbled back and hit the wall.

Liz saw the empty bottle and shot him a glare that was sharp enough to cut. Then she yanked the phone from his hands.

“What is wrong with you? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

Gavin’s breath came fast, chest tight, but he met her eyes and matched her snarl despite the verbal punches she threw.

Eli’s voice muffled between them through the receiver.

“How is it I gave birth to a fucking super genius and then I had you?”

He just stood there. Fists clenched. Thinking, he still flushed her pills. So, the battle was won.

Liz narrowed her eyes. “And wipe that goddamn look off your face, Curtis.”

Sticks and stones- but those words shoot to maim.

Gavin just reached for the phone.

“I was talking to my brother,” he snapped. But the call had dropped. It must have been all the commotion. Eli wouldn’t have hung up. He wouldn’t have.

His mother eventually stormed off and he was alone once more. Adrift in the adrenaline with tiny sparks of anger still flaring beneath his skin. He massaged his hands through his hair, wishing he could be anywhere else before he succumbed to the ache in his chest and fell to the floor in a heap of silent rasps and staggered sobs. Those same tiles where he’ll find his mother in a lifeless puddle only a few weeks later, because while he won that day, the war waged on. A conflict they'll both lose. 

A memory he’s blacked out, scribbled over in sharpie. He knows he found her. That he shook her limp frame and pleaded with her corpse. That he pulled her head into his lap and cried into the soft strands of her hair. He knows it happened, but he can’t see it. 

And everything past that is a blur. A single event, one right after the other. Police. Paramedics. Caseworkers. His brother was flown in from California and-

The low rumble of the bike’s idle hums through his ribs, steady and grounding and cold air seeps into his bones, sharp enough to pull him partway out of his own head.

Nines cuts the engine. They’re parked outside Gavin’s apartment building. His hold on the android has tightened and it doesn’t let up. Nines simply waits a couple beats before he looks over his shoulder. 

“Gavin?”

The human perks but he doesn’t budge. Not at first. He’s grown enough not to drown in the heavy undertow of childhood memories, to swallow the tears lodged in his throat and pretend he’s just tired.

He leans back, unclipping the helmet and sliding it off. Nines dismounts smoothly and takes it from him, but he doesn’t move away immediately. He stands there longer than necessary, scanning Gavin’s face without speaking. 

The smaller man swallows hard and looks away, pretending to fuss with the zipper on his jacket. Still perched on the bike. Suffocated by silence. 

“It’s fuckin’ cold out here,” Gavin finally mutters. Nines responds softly. Offering a simple solution. 

“Then perhaps we should go inside.”

Gavin nods, but he still doesn’t move. Nines takes him by the hand, letting the warmth settle there, his thumb brushing over Gavin’s knuckles in a subtle arc. The same reassuring touch as before, when the traffic lights were red. 

“C’mon, your fragile human skin is going to wither away in these conditions,” Nines teases, with a half hanging smile. One lit up by the parking lot street lamps and the cool glow of his LED light. 

Gavin laughs, low and a little reluctant.

“Fuck you, Tin Man.”

“Perhaps later,” Nines counters, glimmering mischievously behind his blue eyes.

Gavin slides off the motorbike, letting his touch linger on Nines before he’s forced to let go, and finds his footing almost clumsily. “You keep dangling that carrot and I’m gonna pounce on you,” he warns. 

Nines only hums.

“Interesting.”

Notes:

Spoiler alert: Mr. Kamski makes his appearance in the next chapter and I'm fiending for it.

BUT ALSO. NINES BEING MY SWEETEST BABY BOI TO MY OTHER BABY BOI

Forehead kisses for both of them.

I know this chapter was heavy, but it's relevant for the journey we're about to embark on. So stay tuned! :))

Chapter 19: Mr. Kamski

Notes:

*Updates this on a Monday night because I've waited long enough*

I also made myself cry while writing this one, do with that information what you will <3

IM ALSO SCREAMING BECAUSE THE BROTHEERRRSSSS

Whoever headcannoned that these two dumbasses were related needs their fucking back blown out, but also it's ruining my life

plSS enjoy :)

9 a.m.

Gavin couldn’t get his mind off of it. Sitting with unease that inevitable Tuesday morning in his dimly lit kitchen, bouncing a knee at the bar. A steaming mug placed before him. One left untouched like the rest of the pot still sitting on the burner. 

He hadn’t slept, not really. But maybe Nines would brush that off as just another restless night. He was attuned to Gavin’s insomnia already; he didn’t need a reason for it. At least that’s what Gavin was banking on as he continued to stew in his own nerves. Trying to focus on literally anything else. Not the digits above the stove, not the time on his lock screen. Watching instead as Nines fluttered around the apartment. Already dressed in a pair of neat black pants and a staple black turtleneck. One he tucked in and then fastened with a belt around his waist- a contrast compared to the fact that Gavin wasn’t dressed at all for the day ahead. He was still in the same hoodie, sweatpant combo he’d gone to bed in. 

Nines was still looping the buckle when he’d calmly approached. Edith was trailing behind at his feet. She’d grown attached to the android these past few days and their bond was becoming a soft spot in Gavin’s heart, one he couldn’t help but melt when he saw despite feeling like she’d moved on from him.

But this time, when Nines stopped, she kept going. Pretty feet on the tiles, carrying her swiftly to Gavin’s chair where she leapt and landed neatly in his lap. A quiet murr to follow. Paws digging into his thighs before she settled.

He blinked, surprised with the action before he leaned back and smiled, stroking over her dark, silky fur with a blossoming warmth in his chest.

Still his baby girl, Gavin thinks.

Casually, he shifted an arm and reached for his mug finally. Lifting it by the handle as he turned his attention back to Nines. Feeling the weight of Edith as she curled into a little ball in his lap.

“What time’s he goin’ under?” Gavin asked, voice still thick and sleepy. Knowing Nines had a full day ahead of him as well. The android takes another step forward, inching closer just to nuzzle Edie with a knuckle. Like he was grounding himself just the same.

“Check-in’s at seven. Surgery is scheduled for ten,” he says simply. Gavin sips and considers this as he swallows, setting the mug back down with the residual bitterness of coffee on his tongue.

He was already aware of the captain’s surgery, and was partially grateful for the timing of it. Sure, the guise of work would have already covered his tracks, but this way Nines is preoccupied. He won’t be poking and prodding all day through text and he won’t question Gavin’s distance- he’ll be distant himself. This works because Gavin’s not sure how long he’ll be. It could be a quick whirlwind of emotions or an all day affair- it just depends. Whether Gavin blows up, whether Elijah decides to drop his walls and act human for once.

He reaches for Nines. Taking his hand in a clumsy manner, in a fleet of uncertainty. It feels foreign, but Gavin pushes through and commits to the action. After all, it’s a big day for Nines too. Gavin’s not going to undercut that, but he also wants no room for any underlying suspicion.

“A new case just opened,” he says carefully. Covering his tracks with a minor truth. It’s nothing high profile- a domestic dispute that needed very little investigation- but he’ll stretch it as far as he can. “So I might be in the field all day, but you can still message me if something happens. I’ll get back to you when I can,” he murmurs, stroking the back of Nines’ hand. 

The android simply studies him. Cool blue at his temple light, but a flick in his ears. 

“It’s a simple procedure,” he says flatly. Gavin drops his brows knowingly. He curls his free hand around Edith, clutching her fur as she nuzzles into the crook of his elbow. She’s purring, Gavin can feel it and, faintly, he can hear it too.

“It’s still surgery. Anything can happen.”

Nines flickers. “I appreciate your concern, Detective. But I’ll be fine.”

Gavin feels a tug in his gut, a rush of heat to his cheeks. One that comes with being under the magnifying glass of those all knowing eyes. He squirms suddenly, releasing Nines, scooping the cat. He passes her off to Nines in a bundle of fluff that he catches and cradles.

“Whatever. I gotta get dressed,” he mutters, flashing the digital time clock over the oven a quick glance. Leaving his coffee long forgotten as he stands. The android’s stare lingering a touch too long. 

Gavin blankets his own paranoia with a quick kiss, one he places over the curve of Nines’ lips. It’s rushed and almost careless- he nearly misses.

“Just let me know how it goes, okay?” Already brushing past him with his head down.

“If you insist,” Nines says casually- too casually- stroking Edith with a fondness before he sets her back down on a now empty barstool. The sound of her purrs have faded, but her tail remains erect. 

Gavin mulls over the android’s tone long after he leaves, but decides it best not to dwell as he continues to prep himself for what’s to come. Calculating the commute as he rips a pullover off the hanger, rehearsing his arrival as he stuffs himself into a pair of jeans. What he’s going to say, what he’ll bite back.

He won’t talk about getting shot unless Elijah brings it up first, and he won’t bring up the past unless he’s provoked.

He snags his toothbrush and coats the bristles. He’ll talk about work- sparing major details. Keep it light, he tells himself. Head down by the running sink as he brushes. Mouth white and foamy.

Maybe he’ll mention that he’s been seeing someone, but not Nines. Not by name- and especially not that he’s an android.

And he’ll ask questions. Cordial ones. He always does. He’s always been invested in his brother- even when they’ve been years apart. Seminars, interviews, every glossy magazine cover with Elijah’s face staring back at him- Gavin’s absorbed it all. Like a dog begging for table scraps.

He spits and wipes his lips. Straightens and stares in the mirror. Actually looks at himself for the first time in a long time and wonders: does Eli see their father too? Does he resent that? Gavin bows his head and swallows thickly. Running his tongue over his clean teeth where the mint still burns, gripping the counter top.

Get it together Reed. 

Something he tells himself but can’t commit to, not when his stomach's in knots. Not when time is racing against him- because no matter what he does or how much advancement he has- he’s never ready to face his brother.

He sighs, glancing back at his reflection. He’d thrown on his Lions hoodie- the one Nines has been wearing religiously. Wondering if it’s put together enough before his phone buzzes and snaps him back to reality.

He’d set alarms, he wanted to make sure he had enough time to arrive promptly. He mutes it with a single click of the lock button and sets his jaw.

This was it. No more stalling- no more fuckin’ around.  

It was time to face Mr. Kamski.

 

---

 

Of course, his mind only serves to betray him. He couldn’t keep it from reeling back on the drive. Much fonder memories at play- musings he lets skitter across his eyes as he holds an unsteady hand on the wheel. Thinking things weren’t always so tense between them. Sure, the group home they were shoved into sucked- a battle for dominance amongst twelve other boys and the less than enthusiastic staff, but hey, that was an easy placement considering all other options. And they were together, so Gavin didn’t mind. 

A relief to him, but a setback for his brother. Gavin remembers the lengthy phone calls, the scatters of paperwork and the evident frustration Elijah faced in regards to his schooling. Amanda was on the front lines of all the legal shit, paper pushing- doing everything she could to ensure that he could continue his coursework- and Gavin foolishly thought that was the extent of it.  

But he was wrong.

A fact he chews on bitterly as he recounts the very moments where her pull began to sway.

 

---

 

They were the only pair, so they were crammed together in a single room. Gavin can still see it like he never left it. A single window that overlooked the parking lot, a wooden bunk that dominated the wall. Two dressers splintered with age and a desk parallel to the bed- a tight space they often fought over. Drawing invisible lines that Gavin always crossed, claiming unspoken territory for some semblance of individuality. 

Eli had conquered their desk, with his mountains of books and scribbled note pads. Often hunched over his laptop or fiddling with some dumb, techy gadget he either built or rewired- all gifts from Professor Stern. Things Gavin always regarded with mild hostility. Disturbed and minorly jealous by the attention his brother continued to receive. 

Still, it didn’t take up too much space in the back of his head. Not in those days. He brushed it off like he did with most things too complicated for an adolescent boy to understand and boiled it down into something simple: his brother was a nerd doing nerd shit. Meanwhile, Gavin was learning to work the system. 

He strolled in one day, toting hard earned treasures in his hoodie like a sack. Winnings from tough rounds of euchre with the other boys downstairs and found Eli at his desk- as always. Clacking away at the keys, the monitor reflecting in his thick rimmed glasses. 

His hair was longer then, usually tied back in a loose bun, and stubble had started to shadow his pointed jaw. Dressed in an old Star Trek t-shirt- faded and stretched thin. Gavin remembers this and wonders if Eli still watches that stupid show- or if he’s completely abandoned the kid he used to be. 

He was still chewing on a twizzler when he dumped his loot out on the desk beside him. Eli paused long enough to glance over, lips twitching.

“Getting pretty good at cards, I see. Imagine if you applied that sort of dedication to your school work,” he said- almost impressed. Gavin held his head proudly.

“School’s for chumps,” he quipped. Finishing his candy as Eli paused.

“Chumps?” he echoed, like he was just catching the insult .

“Yeah. Like you,” Gavin swallowed. His brother only hummed, completely unbothered as he’d resumed his studious typing. 

Gavin stewed for a moment, unsatisfied. Then he flopped onto Eli’s back, draped himself over his shoulders, and leaned in to glare at the screen. An effort to garner his older brother’s attention. Equally jealous of the laptop, as if he wasn’t granted the occasional liberty to play games on it. 

“What’re you doing? Dweeb stuff?” 

Eli tried to shrug him off but Gavin came back like a boomerang. 

“Gavin-”

He started pressing buttons. Literally and figuratively. Watching the screen flicker as he’d slapped the keys. 

“I wanna play Cookie Clicker,” Gavin demanded. Eli shoved him, but to no avail. The younger Reed was complete deadweight on his back. 

“That game is mindless,” he strained. 

“Yeah, well you won’t let me download Skyrim.”

“That’s because my laptop is strictly for classwork-”

Gavin smacked another key. “Lame!”

With a huff, Eli stood. Nearing six feet in his late adolescence, meanwhile Gavin had yet to hit a notable growth spurt. He clung to him like a koala. Stringy arms around his neck that his big brother tried to pry away. Gavin only laughed, climbing him like a tree. 

“Gavin, c’mon- I’m busy-”

“You said I could play an hour a day-”

The chair scraped the hardwood when they bumped it. 

Eli stumbled and grunted. 

“Yeah, well I have exams coming up.”

He found his balance and used the momentum of a powerful swing to throw Gavin into the bottom bunk where he bounced with a laugh. Popping right back up. Head down, aimed low and lunged. Tackling his older brother around his slender waist. Eli caught himself one handed on the desk. Using the other to continue trying to push the smaller Reed away. Chiding with a breathless laugh.

“Knock it off-”

Gavin reached behind him, flailing. 

“It’s. My. Turn.”

He was parroted by the older teen. Comically so. 

“It’s. My. Laptop.”

“Nuh uh, it’s Amanda’s-”

“And she leant it to me, you little spider-monkey-”

“Eli.”

They both froze. Gavin still mid reach, Eli’s hand smushing his face to get him away. Both eyes on the door where a staff member stood. Clearly unimpressed by their rough housing. 

“I need to steal you for a second,” she said flatly. Eli let out a breath and they both straightened. Gavin just stood uncertainly while his big brother turned, closed out a few windows, and swung back around to shove the computer into his hands. 

“I need it when I get back. I mean it, Gav.”

He stuck his tongue out in response, but clutched the device all the same. 

And that was that. Eli followed the staff member out the door without looking back, and the room felt bigger all at once. Way bigger. Gavin fell back on the bunk with his pulse still racing, as if the fight hadn’t ended, only shifted into silence. 

He told himself it didn’t matter, that Eli would be back in a minute. But even then, he could feel his worry start to spread like a sickness. A worry he still carries. Now clutching the wheel with a heavy hand, staring down the barrel of a long winding road. Scattered with fallen leaves that drift across the asphalt beneath his tires. 

His brother’s villa is protected by the privacy of thick trees, now stripped and barren but otherwise dense and wiry overhead. Hidden on the edge of the city and planted along the riverfront. The gate blooms into view. Sleek, glossy steel woven in geometric patterns, faint electric blue light pulsing through the metal. There’s no code required, just a holographic flash that scans his profile as he rolls to a stop. It passes over him, cold and impersonal, making him wince and grimace and dread.

A smooth, clinical voice follows immediately. Bleeding through the tiny speaker. It grates at him even more.

“Access granted. Welcome, Mr. Reed.”

“Mr. Reed,” he sneers, whipping a vape from his pocket and taking a deep drag. One he releases in time with the gate as it opens. Letting his car- an old style stick shift- idle for a moment. Sitting with his stewing resentments, summoning the will to bury them, before releasing the break and letting the car creep forward on its own momentum. Then finally shifts into gear and presses the gas.

It’s just as he remembers, if not even more desolate than last time. Gavin kills the engine and steps out with the residual strawberry fog of his vice. Feeling the sting of frigid morning air start to nip at his cheeks. He gazes up in discontent.

Cold, blocky and perched somberly on the river’s edge. With the distant silhouette of the city sitting faintly on the horizon. All that fortune- all that success- and his brother has built himself a fortress. One that looks more like a tomb rather than a home.

Anxiously, he sighs. Scuffing the pavement as he walks, breath catching like it used to when the group home door would click shut behind Elijah. That same hollowness now stretches out in front of him, wide and unwelcoming.

Don’t be an asshole, he tells himself. He made the time to see you, just let it go.

He trudges up the ramp, finds the door and stares at. Pulse pounding in his ears. 

All this build up- all this pressure. Finally coming to a head before him as he hesitantly wraps on the door. Accidentally slipping into police mode with the force of it, like throwing a wall up to shield just how shipwrecked he feels. Knowing that despite his nerves, Elijah still won’t be the one to greet him- that he still has time before they’re face to face.

He stops and shivers, looking back as a cloud leaves his lips. It doesn't help that his side is flaring up- like a dull cramp that won’t subside. The door opens and he whips back around, a little wide eyed. Heart caught up in his throat.

“Mr. Reed, welcome.”

Chloe. Bright as ever and overly polite. Her glossy smile makes his stomach churn. She’s all neat angles and smooth curves- like she’s carved from the very walls of this place. Dark satin dress hugging her frame, a pretty side pony draped with precision over one shoulder. Not a hair out of place or a note in her voice that out of line.

Gavin scowls. Of course it’s her. It’s always her.

“Elijah’s been expecting you,” she says, stepping aside without a flicker of discomfort.

“Yeah, no shit.” He shoulders past her and into the foyer. Dark and cool as if to match the inside to the outside.

Chloe’s voice trails after him, light as a feather, as if his hostility slides right off her plastic skin. 

“Have a seat. I’ll tell Elijah you’ve arrived.”

She vanishes through another door, leaving the space colder in her absence. He takes the chance to breathe before it all starts to sink in. Heavy, like cinderblocks. His nervous gaze lands on the wall ahead-

There he is.

Framed in a portrait so large it swallows the space, his brother posed in a suit and tie, every inch the genius visionary. Larger than life. Watching. Judging.

What kind of an asshole keeps this big a picture of himself anyway? Gavin scoffs and pivots. Giving himself a small tour, though the air grows heavier with each step. He finds the opposite wall and stops, happening upon yet another frame- smaller and displayed like a shrine above an expensive accent table. Featuring Elijah alongside his mentor- Professor Stern- in a sterile glow, at that snotty university. All smiles, all pretention. Gavin approaches with a slow saunter, glaring like he would at the gadgets she’d mail his brother and the laptop they fought over like he wasn’t pining for the same kind of attention- like he didn’t care.

But the pang comes anyway- sharp, ugly, and impossible to bury. 

“Gavin?”

He snaps his gaze. Chloe’s in the doorway once more. Cool blue at her LED, stolid in expression. It makes him think of Nines- briefly. Not so much Nines himself, but the origins of him. An unsettling thought. He’s not a Chloe, and he’s not what his brother designed him to be.

He’s Nines. 

“You can follow me,” she says, turning without another word, without even a motion of the hand. Gavin hesitates. His brain urges him to move, but his feet remain planted for a second. Similar to the same fight or flighty feeling he’d get every time his brother was pulled away by a caseworker. But he finds the strength somehow and moves eventually. Following the android through the automatic doors, past the pool room. Turns his nose up at the gleam of ruby ripples and trails behind. Letting her navigate down narrow corridors and eerie statues. Where their unmatched footsteps echo off the walls and ricochet in his mind.

He feels encapsulated. Like caught in a maze. Vaguely he wonders what possessed him to reach out in the first place. It’s clear his brother’s committed to this life of solitude- there’s no room left for Gavin anymore.

He’s got half a mind to turn around before he’s met with another threshold, one that opens with a bright light and leads into a spacious den. One that stretches wide, lined with clean edges and dark, minimalist furniture. With a vast navy rug anchoring the space like a void at his feet and towering windows that dominate the far wall, flooding everything with pale daylight that stabs at his eyes until he squints. 

“Enjoy your visit,” Chloe says. Far too optimistic. Gavin’s side twinges and he’s got a retort on his tongue but that’s when it hits. The shape of him, blocked out by the sun. The man of the hour. The myth. The legend. The elusive Mr. Kamski. Who Gavin knows more intimately as Eli Reed- if that version of him still exists under his polished exterior. Maybe just a sliver deep down, something Gavin finds himself already searching for as his brother turns.

Sharp blue eyes. Hands in his pockets. Not the overbearing figure from the portrait, but something smaller. More..

Human?

Dressed in an open dark cardigan, his hair neatly tapered but still long on top, swept back with careful precision. Clean shaven, his face sharper, almost hollow. His pale eyes don’t quite match the half-hanging smile. Mystery clings to him anyway, like a static charge- always thinking, always calculating.

And painfully silent. Gavin doesn’t know whether to stop or approach. Whether this is supposed to be a handshake, a hug, or a brawl.

Elijah gives him a quick once over, a flick of the eyes that feels like dissection, and breaks the silence.

“At ease, soldier.”

Gavin lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. One that ebbs the tension away and replaces it with something warmer. 

“Funny,” he mutters, not quite committing to it. The weight continues to slide off his shoulders in spite of himself, bittersweet relief that he wishes to attest. But he moves instead, meeting Elijah halfway as the older man floats off the ledge. Arm extended. Their palms clasp, Elijah’s smile grows brighter as he tugs and Gavin’s caught completely off guard as he’s pulled in. Finding himself lost in a tight embrace. Warm, solid- reeking of luxury cologne.

The older man pulls back just as quickly, making Gavin feel more like he’s just been caught in a riptide than he’s been hugged, but it quenches an age old hurt. One deep seated far beneath the surface.

“How’ve you been? You look great- a little tired,” he releases the smaller man and breaks away. Gavin’s not sure whether to follow, but he feels completely thrown.

“I stay tired,” he babbles instead, unsure what to do with his hands, so he stuffs them into the pouch of his pullover. Meanwhile, Elijah’s on an expedition across the room, searching behind the bar in the back. Gleaming sharply with an array of top shelf bottles and fancy decanters. Ducking, bottles clanking. Gavin remains rooted in place.

“Can I get you something to drink? Scotch? A Labatt?”

His voice carries and nearly echoes across the cavernous den. 

Gavin squints. “It’s nine in the morning.”

“Alright, so.. Orange juice? A Capri Sun?” The tease lands sharp, sugar-coated but needling. Gavin rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck you, I’ll take a beer,” he says finally.

“Excellent.”  

Elijah grins again and resurfaces with two bottles opened and brandished as he strolls back in- playing the gracious host as he motions to the couch.

“Sit, make yourself comfortable,” he orders. Herding the younger man along, not quite touching- more so hovering with a hand over the small of his back, guiding him with invisible strings. The pressure is enough. Gavin shuffles forward, unwilling and obedient all at once, until he sinks onto a long, narrow sofa. Pristine, uncreased- the kind of couch no one ever actually sits on.

“I apologize for making you wait so long-”

He says it like Gavin hasn’t waited four years for this already.

“Your phone call sounded urgent, but I’ve been in and out of state quite frequently this past year,” Elijah explains. He takes the opposite couch and lounges back. Meanwhile, Gavin’s hardly settled on the edge. Elbows on his knees, twisting that bottle in his hands.

“Out of state?” he parrots, gaze flicking from across the coffee table that divides them, distorting his older brother's reflection.

Elijah nods astutely. “I give lectures at Colbridge. I got in late last night.”

“Lectures?” Gavin’s a broken record now, but Elijah’s exuberant. Whimsical even.

“I am shaping young minds,” he says, flashing a grin as he throws an arm across the backrest. One leg over the other. It looks rehearsed. Gavin feels the sour taste rising before the beer even hits his tongue.  

Sounds very Amanda, he thinks but doesn’t say. 

“What about you? How’s police work?” 

That gets Gavin’s head up. His chest lifts before he scowls. “Uh- I’m a homicide detective-” he corrects, then softens. “And it’s been.. Going.”  

Elijah quirks a curious brow. Urging Gavin to digress with a simple question. “Just going?”

Gavin sighs, scratching the back of his head. Trying to keep himself on a leash. “It’s work, man. I dunno.. I just closed a pretty heavy case-” Don’t mention being held at gunpoint, don’t even talk about the raid. “My partner and I got pretty close-” He laughs at the irony. His teeth gleam in the light. “Really close, actually.”

“Oh?”

Don’t mention Nines by name. Keep it brief- keep it safe. 

“We might’ve..” His voice fades, but Elijah’s eyes glitter like he’s already caught on.

“No longer a bachelor then?” The smirk is subtle, but it lands. Soft enough to loosen the younger man, who shrugs nonchalantly.

“I dunno.. We’ll see where it goes,” Gavin mutters, smiling more so to himself than to his brother. Nines crosses his mind like a film reel he can’t switch off. The warmth of him catches in his chest, even here, even now.

And that’s exactly why he cuts it off. Lifts the bottle to his lips just to drown the burn with bitterness. 

“And you? What- no gaggle of Chloes to keep your bed warm?” The jab comes sharp, impish silver eyes testing for cracks as he drains a few swigs. Watching. Waiting.

There are tenterhooks in the halfhearted grin he pulls, but Elijah keeps a steady tone. “They are free androids now. Only one still resides here.”

Gavin swallows sharply. “So.. Is she like, your secretary? Your maid?”

“You’re always so stuck on Chloe,” Elijah muses, voice light as air. Like remembering past encounters fondly.

“It’s just weird, man. You created her.”

As if one of Elijah’s creations wasn’t currently warming his own bed at night.

“Yes, but Chloe is here to help me. She is not a toy,” he says finally.

Gavin leans in, grin crooked and lucent with residue. “Help you with what?”

He’s digging, sure- but part of being the little brother means that it’s Gavin’s right to intrude a little bit. Even if it’s just grasping for some kind of connection or normalcy. Watching Elijah twirl that drink like’s script he’s memorized, hungry for a break that never comes.

“Sleep. Schedules. Personal maintenance.” His eyes remain fixed on the amber liquid turning slow circles in his hand. “We’re a team.”

Another shrug. “If you say so.”

Elijah lets the words hang, not bothering to budge. He swirls his beer one last time before setting it on his knee. Then redirects. “How’s the uh..?”

He gestures vaguely toward Gavin’s side, casual as flicking lint. But Gavin feels the heat like a spotlight.

The younger man drops his gaze. “I’m fine, obviously,” he mutters. The mention stings anyway- but really, he’s surprised it was brought up at all.

Maybe the motherfucker did care.

“Sorry I wasn’t there. You understand.” Elijah’s voice is softer, but Gavin simmers still.

“Sure,” he says, bitterness ghosting his tone. His fingers drum against the bottle. Never mind that it hurts. That it’s debilitated him for months. That’s it’s left an ugly scar or that it nearly killed him. 

That he still has that stupid vase and the card that came with it- stuffed in his wallet. A one line condolence as if that’s all his life was worth.

He clears his throat, clawing for lighter ground. “I see you cut the man bun.” Teasing, almost light.

It earns Elijah’s airy chuckle. “Again- Colbridge. Hard enough to command a room looking like a hipster. And that California heat? It hits different.”

“You’re supposed to be immune to that, right? You’re a native, according to your Wikipedia page.”

That strikes a nerve. Finally. Gavin can relish in the fact that he’s made this unshakable mountain move as Elijah shoots him a warning.

The younger man only smirks.

He’s been locked and loaded for years.

“What?”

Elijah’s eyes harden. “Can we not?”

Just like that, the temperature drops, but Gavin just tips the bottle back, draining it two-thirds down in one pull. Lets the froth fizz on his tongue before he swallows. Then he sets it down hard- glass clanking against glass- leaving a wet ring.

“My apologies, Mr. Kamski.”

Elijah pinches the bridge of his nose, his bottle remains unraised. “Gavin.”

The younger man spreads his hands, feigning innocence. “What? I said I was sorry.”

Elijah doesn’t bite. He only drops his hand back over the couch and stares, silent edge in his eyes. Trouble. Bad news. Gavin squirms under the similarities, but he pushes anyway.

“Is that not your name now?” He sneers. “Or is it still Reed on paper?”

Elijah doesn’t answer. Calm as still water, his forefinger taps his beer, eyes fixed on the younger man. The silence stretches until it presses down heavy on Gavin.

But his chest still remembers that hug- warm, solid, disarming- and it scrambles him. So, he exhales hard through his nose and his voice breaks in defeat. “Whatever.”

For a moment, it seems like the end. Then Elijah’s expression smooths.

“No. Go ahead.” He sets the bottle down neatly, deliberately. Lets the silence open, generous and cutting all at once. “Say what you’ve been rehearsing all these years.”

The bottom drops out of Gavin’s stomach- his side twinges sharply. Something he forces himself to ignore; it’ll only call more attention to the many elephants in the room. The dozens of suffocating elephants he’s supposed to pretend aren’t real.

But now it’s an invitation. And somehow, that makes it harder to pull the trigger.

He fumbles- stammers. “You don’t get to-” 

Then flares his nose in a huff and drops his brother’s gaze, wringing his hands.

He wants a cigarette. He wants Nines.

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t come here to argue.”

Elijah doesn’t flinch. His reply cuts like a scalpel. “And yet you keep pushing.”

He’s only pushing because it hurts, because he can’t wedge the gap no matter how hard he tries. They are still miles apart- years away- and Gavin’s either supposed to sit here and pretend like everything’s fine or write a fucking thesis statement on why he keeps poking at the goddamn fire when he should just let it burn. 

But he can’t. 

Because Elijah. 

Wasn’t. 

There. 

He left. He threw his fucking hands up and he left, and Gavin remembers that as clearly as the day that it fucking happened. 

And he doesn’t want to believe that he’s the only one that’s haunted. Not with Elijah’s fat head, not when he’s sitting there- all knowing and unmoving like a fucking statue. 

So, sure. He wants to explode. He’s been grasping at straws since they were separated as unruly teens. Left high and dry time and time again, but never hesitating to show up when the tables were turned. 

“Fuck you, I don’t wanna do this,” Gavin rasps, struggling through the ache in his side and forcing his voice past the lump in his throat. “I came here because I wanted to see you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Elijah says calmly. No flinching, no judgement. It irks Gavin all the more. 

He snaps, shaking hands. Hot under the collar. “Well, what the fuck do you want from me then?”

Just to be met with more ice. 

Elijah leans back, beer left forgotten on the coffee table, like it was never meant to be opened. A prop for civility, nothing more. “I have no expectations. This is your visit, Gavin.”

The younger man scoffs and stands. “God, you’re such a fuckin’ prick,” he mutters. Brandishing his vape like a weapon- If Elijah doesn’t like it, he can fucking choke on it.  

“I haven’t seen you. Haven’t heard from you. Nothing- in four fucking years-“

His voice cracks. The room presses in, thick with silence. He takes a long drag, until the smoke scalds his lungs- it still doesn’t take the edge off- then lets it billow past his lips in a thick haze. Building a wall between them.

Elijah doesn’t blink. Still lounging casual on the sofa, like none of it sticks. “The phone works both ways, you know.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Gavin spits, turning away- two strides, pacing like he might bolt. But he whirls back, fire sparking in his eyes. “Or- wait. That’s what Chloe’s for, right? Personal maintenance?”

That one lands. Elijah rises like a mast, ready for battle. “Always a pleasure, Gavin-”

“No. You know what? I’m not done,” Gavin snaps. 

“Of course not.”

“I can forgive the distance- I get it. You’re a fucking public figure and you invented half the fucking population, but you’ve given me virtually nothing. In four years, Eli. I almost died.”

“That is the nature of your job, Gavin,” Elijah says evenly. 

“Yeah, well, did you stop and think maybe I might’ve needed you? That maybe I wanted you there-”

The older man interjects with a heated but calculated tone. “You said it yourself. I created half the population. Do you know what comes with that? A magnifying glass and daily death threats from people who- like you- harbor this visceral hatred for androids and the independence they’ve gained. They’d much rather see them stay subservient or be destroyed- and have me strung up alongside them. Do you understand? I take security with me wherever I go.”

He’ll let the android comment slide- he has to, even if it stings. Even if Nines flashes in the back of his mind. Instead he focuses on the brunt of his anger.

“But you can still give lectures at fucking Colbridge,” Gavin steps back, eyes like sharpened swords.

For the first time, Elijah falters. His eyes flicker- quick and unguarded. But it’s gone as fast as it came. He smooths it out like wrinkles in satin sheets. “Colbridge is work. Professional obligation. Don’t confuse it with personal indulgence.”

Gavin scoffs. “Yeah, that’s always been your fuckin’ trump card. You and your fuckin’ projects,” he grumbles. The words trigger an old scene in his mind. That same tiny room- laughable compared to the size of Elijah’s living room. His brother, with the man bun, hunched again. This time over a duffle bag he was stuffing with clothes and personal artifacts. 

Gavin didn’t question it. He saw the bags and immediately erupted with excitement. 

“Were we placed? Where are we going? Is there a mom and a dad?”

Elijah straightened, looking despondent as Gavin ran to the dresser. Avidly ripping clothes from his designated drawers, nevermind a backpack- he hadn’t gotten that far yet.

“Gavin-“

He wasn’t listening. Too busy picturing a life that was never meant to be his. White picket fence, baseball mitts, and Christmas.

“Do you think they’ll let us get a cat? Maybe we’ll get our own rooms!”

“Gavin.”

He stopped completely. Realizing his energy wasn’t being matched. His brother’s silhouette still stands out, haloed by greyish light coming in from the window. His somber eyes hidden behind glossy lenses. 

“The paperwork went through. I’m going with Amanda.”

It was the crash before the burn. Gavin just stared at him, he didn’t quite grasp it immediately- it came to him in pieces. The tech, the phone calls- the caseworker pulling him away.

“Oh,” he said slowly. “Is she taking us to her big house in California?” His voice was minuscule. Clinging on with a hope that he’d scraped up from the bottom of the barrel.

“She’s taking me, Gavin.”

That was the nail in the coffin. Gavin shook his head. “No- no,” his voice broke, his breath went ragged. “The caseworker lady said we weren’t gonna be separated.”

“That was never a guarantee,” Elijah said. Calmly, quietly. 

Gavin remembers clutching an old shirt, his knuckles white in the fabric- fighting back tears.  

“Why can’t Amanda take both of us?”

No comment. Nothing. But Gavin knew. 

She could have. She just didn’t want to. 

His tone shifted, it sharpened. “So, you’re just gonna leave me here?”

“You’ll be fine. We’ll keep in touch,” Elijah said, then resumed his packing like it was nothing.

In an instant, Gavin dropped the shirt and ran to him. Snatching the duffle bag in an effort to pull it away. He said nothing, his actions spoke louder than words. 

I don't want you to go.

Locked in a game of tug-a-war, Elijah’s composure began to shake. “Gavin, listen to me. This is important, alright? We’re working on something huge-”

“Why can’t she take both of us? Why-?” Gavin was desperate. His grip iron tight on the bag, half full of his brother’s belongings, the rest were folded neatly on the bed. 

And Elijah tried to be reasonable- typical. “It’s not forever.”

And Gavin lashed out. “She’s only using you for your fat head.”

Finally, his brother snapped. A loose strand of hair fell into his face and his eyes were sharpened like daggers as he yanked the bag. The canvas strap burned Gavin’s palms but he held on tight.

“Gavin. This is happening. I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

Gavin pulled back, his sneakers scuffing the hardwood. “You’re just like dad. You only care about yourself-!”

Elijah stopped, frowned, and adjusted his grip. Trying to take the high ground by raising the bag. Speaking through gritted teeth. “And you’re being impossible right now.”

The younger Reed snarled and tugged with all his might. Knocking the contents loose inside. 

“Gavin, stop-”

“No.”

“Gav-”

Something broke between them. Between the conflict over the bag, the words exchanged, and finally Elijah’s wrath- rearing its ugly head as he shoved the younger Reed hard enough to knock him loose. 

As a result, Gavin fell back and hit the desk. Hard. The edge of it dug into his side. A biting pain exploded beneath his ribs and objects clattered and fell to the floor. He couldn’t think- he couldn’t breathe. He just shriveled back and waited. Hoping his brother might reach out and soothe the hurt.

But Eli- Elijah- just stood there. Panting, jaw cinched. Set and secure.

He spoke after a beat. Fixing his glasses as if to compose himself.

“I told you to stop-”

Gavin dropped his gaze and crumpled. Buried his head in his hands and wracked with a quiet sob. Like his brother had picked him up and dropped him.

And he must’ve taken pity on the smaller Reed, because Gavin heard the sigh as the bag hit the bed. Heard the floorboards creak as he approached and felt the warmth of his touch as it enveloped him in a stiff embrace, one that Gavin struggled against. 

“Hey, c’mere. It’s okay- you’re gonna be fine. I told you, we’re gonna stay in touch..”

Gavin almost believed him.

He blinks, forcing himself back into the now. The echo still buzzing in his ribs, like the edge of the desk all over again. The sting never really left. Perhaps that’s what it was all along. Not a product of the bullet, but his own childhood coming back to haunt him.

He looks at Elijah- this polished version, with the cardigan and sharp eyes- and all he can see is the same silhouette haloed by grey light, already halfway out the door.

And he tries to justify all of this with that same surgical tone. Like he’s already mended the cracks Gavin’s worked so hard to break. 

“Gavin, I’m sorry you feel like I’ve failed you. But I had a calling. A purpose.”

He clenches that cartridge in his fist. Grey eyes glistening with an unushered wetness. “Yeah, well you didn’t have to ice everyone out to achieve it.”

Elijah curtains his brows. “I didn’t ice anyone out. Our father left. Mom-”

“Me, Eli. You fucking iced me out.” His voice collapses, raw and ragged, aching just to fold in on himself- and it sucks because he wanted so badly for things to go well. To have the beer, to feel each other’s company- to maybe even enjoy it for once. But instead, it’s this. Tension thick as mud and resentment heavier than stone.

And maybe he’s waiting for another shove, but Elijah just stuffs his hands in his pockets, and they remain two worlds apart.

“Whatever,” Gavin mutters in closing, bowing his head with a small sniff. “Thanks for the beer and the shittiest twenty-five minutes of my life. But, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather day drink by myself.” He turns to leave, making a point not to watch as his brother squares his shoulders. Silent and unmoving.

And Gavin rejoices in the tiniest victory- at least he got the final word.

Of course, he’d made a similar retreat as a boy. All those years ago, right back in that room. Skittered up the ladder after pushing away from his brother’s illusion and remained on his bunk- shaking with silent sobs. All lost to the thread count of his pillow case. All while Elijah just continued to pack in silence, eventually leaving the room. Suitcases by the door. Gavin hadn’t bothered to move.

Eventually, the door creaked and a streak of light cut through the darkness. Nightfall had blanketed the room hours prior. Gavin hadn’t noticed.

But he heard the gentle approach, a shuffle of shoes on the weathered hardwood. His brother’s voice was much different than the snap earlier. It was muted, pillow soft.

Gavin curled in tighter.

“Hey, spider-monkey. You gonna come down from your perch?” He didn’t have the strength to move, or the words to speak, having already cried himself hoarse. But he managed a small sniff, one wet and barely audible.

Still, silence pressed in. Darkness cradled them like a hand, heavy and smothering.

“I brought you a slice of pizza,” there was a lilt in his voice. Gavin could smell it, but he didn’t bite. Just remained with his back to the door. Eyes sticky and burning.

“Gavin..” It bordered on hopeless, the older Reed mand another, smaller attempt. “You wanna watch a movie? I downloaded the new Fast and Furious movie. What are they on now, like twelve?”

“Seven…” Gavin muttered, fingers clutching the sheets.

Elijah chuckled behind him, a sound meant to lighten but landing hollow. “Right. You’d think by now people would be tired of the franchise.”

Another tear had rolled over the bridge of his nose, tracing his scar. He remembers hearing the gentle pat as it hit the mattress. How it broke the silence even just the tiniest bit.

“Okay..” Elijah whispered. “Well.. I’m gonna watch this movie. You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

There was a shift and a creek, indicating that Elijah had settled into the bottom bunk. A few light tappings of keyboard keys and the incoherent dialogue of some blurry preview playing beneath him. Gavin felt his chest collapse in that moment, glued to the spot by sheer stubbornness.

But then was slowly peeled away. Driven by the need to be near his brother, on his last night. He hit the ladder, descended carefully. Weak with exhaustion and uncertainty. Then climbed into bed- wedged between Elijah’s taller frame and the drywall- just like when they were little.

His brother said nothing, didn’t even look his way. Just balanced the laptop on his chest, eyes fixed on the screen and Gavin tucked against his shoulder.

In the now, Gavin wipes a single tear with the heel of his palm, bitten once more by the autumn chill. The driveway blurs into focus, like the whole visit never happened. 

And that was it, he tells himself. That was probably the last time he ever saw his brother- not the polished genius with lectures and accolades, but the kid who once laid beside him in the dark and pressed play.

And that’s what hurts.

That’s what kills him.

The man, the myth- the fuckin' prick.

"Elijah Kamski," Gavin mutters. Then scoffs.

"What a dumb fckin' name."

Notes:

I just want ya'll to know that I either love the trope of them being Kamski's and coming from a life of prestige and Gavin being the black sheep who's shunned but Elijah loves and adores him OR they come from nothing and Elijah has completely distanced himself from that world and it breaks Gavin emotionally.

You can see where this one's going xD

And don’t worry! There will be more Mr. Kamski

*nefarious plotting*

Chapter 20: The One That Stays

Notes:

This ooonnnnee

We get lots of flavors here. Nines with his own lil traumas, Lieutenant Anderson might make an appearance- idk

AlsoI lied this is gonna be like, probably 27-28 chapters. I don't make the rules, I just type.

TW: Mentions of alcohol abuse, minor self harm- nothing graphic. Overall super sadness.

Very Nines centered chapter tho, I had fun with this one <3

As always, please enjoy c:

The sun is blinding, the windows are too tall. Nines lets out an impatient breath as he paces. He is a void in his dark attire against the stark white and holographic blue of the hospital waiting room. Phasing back and forth with coils knotted in his gut. Voices on the intercom, muted mumbles from nurses and hospital staff in passing. A relatively quiet morning- the waiting room itself wasn’t very full. Only a few other patients were spread out amongst the open sitting area. All in their own realm, all impossibly quiet- impossibly still.

Nines checks the time again, runs the procedure through his software and calculates progress and possible delays- boots gliding across the linoleum in a militant march. Smooth, brisk. Pivot, turn. Another lap. All the while Janice is perched calmly in an armchair. Purse at her feet, a spool of purple yarn by her side, crochet hooks working steadily. 

She loops another thread as he passes, calm as a summer breeze. 

Nines almost envies her.

He flickers miserably, otherwise stone faced. Hands clasped behind his back. Surrounded by statues and he’s as restless as running water. 

It’s foolish, all this worry. It’s a simple surgery and they’re not that far behind schedule- only twenty-three minutes, thirty-eight seconds.. Thirty-nine.. Forty.

But the captain has been so stressed lately and he waited until the last minute to focus on his rest and well-being. Something that could greatly affect the outcome of his surgery. Nines mulls over this as he makes another lap, catching another glint from the burning sun outside and missing the glance he’s thrown in passing. Hardly paying Janice any mind- even if the clicks from her hooks are rhythmic and oddly soothing.

His hands come forward in a subconscious motion, his fingertips from his right hand dip into the sleeve of his left and mindlessly trace the seam on his forearm. The sun, the torch, the sound of the ignition before the burn. The captain had to hold him steady- with a hand on his shoulder. 

Otherwise he would’ve thrown that human doctor across the room.

“His levels have been low for days, he’s just exhausted.”

“Androids don’t feel exhaustion. But if it won’t stay still, we’ll need to turn it off.”

Nines huffs. Strobing red. He has never been and he never will be powered off, and Captain Blaine had voiced that for him when he couldn’t voice it for himself.

“That’s not an option.”

“Then you need to keep it still.”

“I got him.”

Janice flicks her gaze. Soft brown eyes cradled by worry lines. Watching him shake out his hand and return both of them to their neat clasp behind his back. She only pauses for a moment, then shifts her hooks and reaches into her purse.

Nines is on his way back from another lap as she straightens, perfectly timed.

“Niles, honey, would you mind holding this for me?”

He doesn’t stop or blink, doesn’t even glance in her direction. He simply takes the object in passing, hardly registering what he’s been handed. Just that it fits neatly. That it’s soft and round, and rubbery and squishy-

Nines flutters yellow, slows his gait mid track and opens his palm, inspecting the ball he now carries inquisitively. 

“This is a toy,” he deadpans. Janice hums, hooks back to work, looping her threads in an effortless pattern. 

“Stress toy,” she says simply. “Works wonders.”

Nines gives it another squish. His feet move slower under him. Still in a heel-toe fashion, kneading the ball. Watching it wrinkle and release. He makes a final lap and sinks into the chair beside her like gravity. Yellow still, but idle. 

Janice smiles, but says nothing. Her eyes remain on her yarn, her needles click softly between them. 

It’s not until his incessant kneading has slowed before she finally speaks. Light as spring and lilted sweetly. 

“How’s Connor?”

Nines rolls the ball between the smooth pads of his fingers, lounging back in the arm chair. One leg over the other. One foot still restless as it bounces. 

He answers listlessly. Partly still enamored with his newfound vice. “He’s doing well. He and Lieutenant Anderson are finally making headway with their caseworkers.”

“That’s good to hear,” Janice comments. “And you partner? Detective Reed, was it?”

“Gavin,” Nines says automatically. 

Janice glances sideways at him, her needles never pausing. “Mm. Gavin,” she repeats, like she’s considering the name. With the faintest smile to reach her eyes. 

“Maybe we could discuss brunch sometime- once Richard’s fully remissioned,” she murmurs thoughtfully. Nines turns the ball, holding it with both hands between his fingertips. Resting his elbows over the armrests. 

Tempting, but Nines is reminded of Thanksgiving and how Gavin had turned his invitation down once already.

He sinks back into his chair- he’s not going to deny what she already seems to know, but vulnerability is still new to him. “I’m not so sure Gavin’s the brunch type. He’s…” A pause, as though no standard descriptor applies. “.. Peculiar.”

Janice counters with a gentle tug of her threads. “Everyone’s the brunch type with the right people.”

The words land heavier than her soft tone suggests. Nines’ LED ticks, just for a beat- shifting into blue. Like he’s processing not data, but possibility. The stress ball stalls in his hand, fingers curling around it more than squeezing. 

It’s short lived. Nines only hums, low and noncommittal. “The captain didn’t seem all that enthused by him last time,” he says, recalling Gavin’s impression in the breakroom and all the distasteful things the older man’s had to say since.

“Richard forgets he used to be the same way. He’s.. Peculiar too.”

Nines squeezes the toy a little too tightly. Janice glances, but lets it pass without comment. No pressure to deliver, just food for thought. 

Something that seems to set and simmer as silence settles between them once more. A cushy blanket they sit under as time continues to slip away. Nines kneading the ball, slower more mindlessly as his gaze wanders and Janice with her needle work. Distant chatter in the background, the dull hum over overhead television monitors. He still checks for updates on the projected schedule up ahead, but his mind is a pendulum- where once his feet couldn’t stop, now it’s his software. Swinging back and forth between two men he finds most important in this world. Trying to compartmentalize all of his thoughts into neat little boxes. 

Longing. Worry. Peculiar. Each squeeze of the ball softens the punch, but his wires remain crossed. 

This is the part of deviancy he finds most uncomfortable. There’s no room left for logic, not when he’s in a spiral. He’s still learning to find that balance. 

But the toy helps. Still, Nines sighs. An unnecessary expulsion of air that comes out heavier than he intends. Transfixing himself on the object in hand, hoping it went unnoticed. 

But Janice sees him, even just in the corner of her eyes. Even if her needles still for only a beat. No words, just a gentle pause- even if she doesn’t press. 

“Mrs. Blaine?”

Both of them perk up- Janice stops mid loop and Nines crushes the stress ball in his palm. Time, which had been dragging, seems to snap forward as a middle aged man in scrubs appears right before them. Still in his cap and a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Janice sets her yarn aside with a quiet breath- one Nines detects as he stands. Slipping the ball behind his back in a neat clasp. Stolid with a flickering temple while Janice wraps her cardigan around herself like a shield.

Silently Nines wishes he could comfort her as she has done for him, but he finds himself unable to move. Frozen in anticipation, his fingernails dig into the cushy rubber of the toy. 

“The surgery went smoothly,” the doctor says finally. “He’s stable and doing great.”

Nines filters back to blue, Janice releases a breath of relief. With a hand over her chest, the other finds Nines- squeezing his arm to hold herself steady. 

“Thank god,” she sighs. The doctor continues. 

“We'll discuss recovery and treatment once he’s up and coherent. For now, you’re welcome to visit. I’ll have a nurse take you back whenever you’re ready.”

The older woman nods with gratitude. “Sounds wonderful, thank you.”

Nines remains silent. The scrubs are unnerving and those fake, practiced smiles always rub him the wrong way- but he nods and the doctor departs. Janice lingers at his side, anchored to his arm a moment longer before finally letting go. She turns to pack her crochet kit- rolling her yarn into neat bundles, tucking away her hooks- while Nines remains standing, LED flickering yellow as he worries the ball between his hands.

Something that doesn’t go unnoticed. Janice shoots him another glance. Soft behind her almond eyes and a warmth in her quiet voice. 

“You don’t have to go back, Niles. I know you’re uneasy here.”

His worrying halts and the ball stills in his palm, still clenched in a tightened fist. “I’m fine,” Nines insists, but the tension in his jaw saws otherwise. 

“Niles.”

A sigh breaks loose, he hates admitting discomfort. Hates showing weakness when he’s built to withstand. 

But Janice has a way of unraveling him in a way that feels safe. 

“Are you sure?” He mutters finally, relinquishing his grip on the stress toy. Janice offers a reassuring smile. 

“Of course. He’ll be out for a while anyway.”

Still, Nines hesitates. It feels petulant to retreat, especially now that the hardest part is over. But Janice steps toward him, another hand at his elbow giving soft squeezes. 

“I’ll let you know the moment he wakes. You can visit then.”

He says nothing at first, only nods with a tension in his ears. 

“Thank you for sitting with me,” Janice adds after a beat. Sweet as honey. “I don’t know if I could have handled this on my own.”

His expression falls flat. Now she’s just trying to butter him up. 

He passes the ball back, smooths out his shirt and clears his throat. 

“It’s the least I could do,” he says, voice clipped and his remaining words- after all you’ve done for me- still barred behind his teeth, because he hasn’t quite learned how to let such truths go. 

But Janice understands, she always has. She puts another reassuring hand on his arm and smiles.

“We’ll talk later, alright?”

She parts with one last squeeze, one that stays with him long after she’s gone and that’s that. Leaving him alone with his thoughts and a lingering warmth and a longing that he can’t quite place.

Finally, Nines breaks from his trance and turns. 

He’s missing something, and he knows what that something is. 

That roguish, hard headed something that he suddenly yearns for. Even his fingertips itch to reach out and search for it. Gavin said he’d be busy, but surely there’s still time. Nines can catch him on his break- swing by the precinct, pretend that it’s case related. Sneak him into the archive room- disable the cameras. 

He preconstructs the scene. the sharp click of the door shutting, the startled hitch of breath when Gavin’s back hits it, the half-formed protest cut off in a kiss and the weight of him hauled up against Nines’ chest. Those thighs tight around his hips as a palm slips under his shirt, tracing the ridges of that scar- 

He can almost hear the sound Gavin would make, that low rasp half anger, half surrender.

The thought tightens something in his chest. After days of knotted circuits, the prospect of him is the only relief, the only tether that feels steady. For a moment, Nines allows himself the simulation, his system already burning-

Settle, he tells himself, like snapping a line taut. He finds the parking lot with ease, temple pulsing- this time to summon his bike. He hears the engine come to life from a distance. Restlessly he waits, standing on the edge of the curb for the machine to glide effortlessly into place. The only thing moving towards him when what he really wants is just out of reach.  

Outwardly, he’s still clasped. The bike rolls to a stop and Nines steps down, plucking his helmet from the dash with a beat of impatience and mounts. Still edgy but buzzing with a new kind of anticipation. 

 

---

 

The precinct is full of energy when Nines arrives. With a lobby full of plaintiffs and officers surging like currents- boots scuffing the tile, handcuffs clicking. Overlapping soft chatter and distant phones all ringing.

Nines bustles through it all with tunnel vision, thrumming beneath the plates. He’s a man on a mission after all, recalibrating every step. Breezing past reception, sidestepping a clerk. Successfully adjusting his gait around two uniforms mid argument- all without breaking stride. 

Calculations and corrections, but the target remains unchanged: Gavin.

He reaches the bullpen, breezing past the automatic doors. He’s got the layout down pat, knowing Gavin’s desk to be just one simple turn and a-

Silence.

Save for the commotion still buzzing around him. Gavin’s desk is otherwise empty. The monitor is dark, his chair is neatly pushed in. No half empty cup of coffee, no half finished reports scattered in his scrawl. Just absence.

A void.

A lack of life even. Nines drums his fingers over the surface, still reeling with momentum. Cycling yellow in deep thought as he further examines the barren wasteland of Gavin’s desk. Searching for some kind of an explanation- recollecting Gavin’s mention of a new case. Perhaps he was still in the field..

Nines immediately checks his location via phone share. The signal blips- dead. Turned off.

Interesting.

His processors hum hotter. He taps the desk this time, the sound brittle against all the noise. There's no need for escalation, he tells himself. Surely there’s a reasonable explanation. Misinformation. Forgetfulness. Something simple.

All reassurances. None of them satisfy.

His gaze sears into Gavin’s swivel chair, his fans humming like a baseline. A small part of him already knows that Gavin’s not foolish enough to omit such details. Not on a day like today. Not when the air still feels crisp with what ifs and waiting room dread and now lingering with the smaller man’s absence.

Reluctantly, Nines turns. Still tapping the desk like a ticking time bomb. Unfortunately, he’ll just have to resort to the help of others to fully understand what’s at play here. 

He scans the room. It slows to a pulse- clear blue grid. He skims the crowd, finding the profile he desires and breaks. Then cuts through the chaos like a knife.

Where Gavin’s desk was dead in the water, Hank’s is drowning. With stacks of evidence tablets and scattered sticky notes. His monitor cluttered with several open tabs and aggression beneath each sweep of his fingertips against the key pad. All with a scowl on his face and his hair hanging loosely in his eyes. Nines nearly abandons his current objective given the frazzled state of the older man, but remains steadfast. Prioritizing Gavin’s whereabouts as he promptly slows and halts. Planting himself neatly at the edge of the desk, awaiting acknowledgment that comes with a sharp glance before that signature glower empties with a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank god- it’s just you,” Hank says, as if the android’s presence were a mere breath of fresh air. 

Nines clasps his hands and lifts his chin. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant.”

Hank scoffs. “It’s an afternoon alright,” he grumbles, motioning to the chair across from himself in a haphazard gesture. “Quick, take a seat, make it look like we’re busy.”

Nines is quick to oblige. Smooth and precise. He sits, but doesn’t settle. Perched on the edge like part of him is still lingering at Gavin’s empty desk. 

“Sorry about the mess, today’s been a goddamn shit show,” Hank continues, clearing a space between them. Going on about this and that, the lack of staff, the city going to hell. Words that don’t fully stick with Nines, but he still tracks all the details. All while still observing the older man with a quiet fondness. The neat trim of his beard, the warm flannel shirt. Touches of Connor, he finds himself musing. Recalling the hard boiled lieutenant his predecessor once described and decides that this look of domesticity much better suited him.

Nines ticks his ears at this conclusion. It’s strange how humans can soften with the right company. He thinks of Gavin once more, how he’s left the gel out of his hair lately, how he more often melts instead of tenses when Nines holds him. 

His fingers itch. His pump flutters. Nines remains a rock outside, watching Hank brush his hair back with another weighted exhale. 

“Anway, how’s the captain? He do alright this mornin’?”

“His surgery went smoothly,” Nines responds. 

Hank bobs his head with a spreading grin.

“Fuckin’ A.”

But Nines doesn’t move. He doesn’t spill into ease or even twitch. It’s odd enough he’s here at all, but Hank hadn’t thought to question that amidst all the chaos. 

But now it’s just them, in this tiny bubble surrounded by buzz and he can start to see it more clearly. 

After all, Nines is not made of stone. He’s got cracks like everybody else, fine likes beneath that polished exterior- but Hank can see right through it. 

The tension. The strain. The way he sits like he’s ready to leave- like he’s on a mission. 

And the fact that he’s planted himself here, at Hank’s desk, makes it all the more obvious. 

This was never about the captain, he’s not here on business or even for a friendly visit. 

Hank flashes a quick glance across the den, over Nines’ squared shoulder and finds that empty desk. He’s clocked it too many times himself today, pushed his worries in the back of his mind and tried to ignore it. 

He sits back and folds his arms. 

“He’s not here,” he says. Low and tired. No bite, no bark. Just quiet and heavy like setting down the weight he’s been carrying too. 

But where Hank drops it, Nines picks it up. He tilts his head curiously, ignoring the way his pump seems to freeze.

“He didn’t come in at all?”

The older man shakes his head and that’s when it happens. Like clockwork. Just as the motion stops- a text from Gavin:

// long day ahead.  gonna cash in on some space  //

This strikes a match. 

And Nines

Ticks 

Red. 

He sinks back into his chair. White hot beneath the plates, and deathly quiet. Hank only watches, letting the silence stretch before testing the waters. 

“I take it he told you otherwise?”

Nines doesn’t answer. He only transfers a hand from his knee to rest at his chin, posture deliberate, gaze unfocused- scanning for answers he can’t compute.

Gavin lied to him this morning. Gavin’s lying to him now.

Why?

A stutter in his pump betrays the silence. He kicks himself inwardly, each line of logic biting at him in return. He told Gavin he was entitled to space. He told him he had the right to his privacy.

And now those words are shackles. He can’t demand the truth without shattering the very boundary he drew in the sand. To push would make him a hypocrite, to pry would break trust.

Foolish.

Fucking foolish.

The hum of the bullpen seems to swell against the stillness between them. Nines remains perched, blazing red at his temple, and Hank watches with that weary kind of knowing.

“Don’t take it personally,” he says. “Man’s his own kryptonite."

Nines just pinches the bridge of his nose. Trying to simmer his rage to a low boil.  

“Hypothetically,” he begins, in a constricted voice. “If I were to approach him about this-“

“Don’t,” Hank snaps.

Nines drops his hand, meeting Hank’s stare head on. His jaw is locked tight, eyes steady.

“He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” Hank cautions, slower this time, like a man who’s been burned once already.

But Nines can’t accept that. His code beats against it. To wait is to risk; to stand idle is to watch Gavin sink further into the dark. Nines was built for intervention- for action. Sitting back just feels like negligence.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, Gavin does not strike me as the type to seek anyone out. He’s.. Isolated.”

“He has people,” Hank fires back. “He just chooses to believe otherwise.”

Nines leans forward, unblinking. “Who?”

That lands. Hank freezes, the fight in him faltering just for a second. A flicker of regret- maybe even shame- before he reinforces.

“He knows he can come to me.”

“Does he?” Nines’ retort cuts like a blade. 

Hank exhales hard through his nose, the sound closer to a growl. “He’s the one who walked away.”

Nines doesn’t miss a beat. “And you let him.”

That sends Hank forward in his chair, shoulders squaring, jaw set. “You come over here just to bust my balls?”

“I came over here,” Nines says, voice steady, “because you’re the only other person in Gavin’s circle who might know what’s going on with him. But unfortunately, you’re just as quick to write him off as everyone else.”

Hank stares. Then snorts. “I think you’re just pissed ‘cuz your boyfriend blew you off.”

That one hits harder than he intends, and for a split second his eyes flicker with guilt. Nines rises anyway, smooth and cold, red pulsing at his temple.

“This conversation has been unsatisfactory,” he states in an even tone, one he forces through clenched teeth. With that, he takes his leave. Spinning on a heel, every line of him completely rigid. Palms aching- burning for something to hold and squeeze and crush-

“Nines.”

The android pauses mid step. Then slowly, he angles his head back just enough to catch Hank’s softened expression- one that looks older and wearier than before.

“Just be careful,” Hank says, quieter now. “He bites when he’s cornered.”

For a moment, Nines almost answers. Almost admits that the sting in his chest has nothing to do with fangs, and everything to do with silence, with secrets, with lies. But instead, he swallows it down.

He turns away without a word. Each step is measured, each stride calm- but the sinking pit in his core follows him out, heavy as lead.

 

---

 

Nines came to a solution pretty quickly after leaving the precinct, finding loopholes in their earlier agreements that would allow him to snoop without getting caught. 

He drafts his response to Gavin’s earlier message:

:: As you wish, Detective. I’ll still need to stop by for something later ::

This gives him probable cause. Though being so vague might seem like a red flag. But the reply comes faster than anticipated. 

// okaay but i tol dd you its gonna b a longg day //

Gavin’s messages were always clipped, riddled with typos, but never this disordered. Nines studies it longer than he should, every garbled letter sounding another silent alarm. Still, he forces himself to wait. Sitting in his quiet apartment where time seems to crawl. Back to pacing. A metronome before his towering windows. Eyes on the time and constantly darting in Gavin’s direction. Back and forth, back and forth. Until finally, he’s had enough. 

Gavin’s location is still turned off, but Nines decides if he doesn’t find him at home, then he’ll just tear the whole damn city apart. Brick by brick, piece by piece. 

Luckily, traffic’s not heavy. He makes it in record time. Still tinged from the cold outside as he stands outside Gavin’s door. Staring at it like it might burn if he gets too close. 

Nines takes the chance. Not even bothering to knock. Just tests the knob, feels the give, and finds it unlocked. 

That’s invitation enough. 

He opens the door to a dark lit entryway. Gavin’s leather jacket hanging on a hook by the door and the sharp stench of smoke invades his olfactory sensors. His face almost twitches. Gavin picking that habit back up has perturbed him enough as is, but smelling the evidence of it so strongly feels like a blaring neon sign. 

Nines knows well enough by now that smoking isn’t addiction- it’s armor. A vice to keep restless hands busy, a clenched fist made into fire. If the stench is this heavy, Gavin hasn’t just been restless. He’s been unraveling.

Nines walks further into the haze, mindful to shut the door behind him. The glow of the television illuminates the living room. A throw cover wrinkled in a puddle on the couch and an old laptop sits strewn out haphazardly on the coffee table. Nines finds the screen glitching when he approaches with wary steps. Scanning the model and the malfunction, finding it to be ancient and overcrowded by mods and viruses. 

Then notes the two different sets of initials etched into the corner of the keyboard as he crouches, eyes tracking the scores.

E.K- neat and precise. 

G.R- directly beneath it, gouged deep and uneven. Like it cost him something to leave it there. Nines traces Gavin’s crude lines. His fingertips ghosting the groves. Letting confirmation sink in. A bond kept not broken.

But at what cost? Nines thinks of this as he stands. Like meeting the eye of the storm. Around him is the debris, the evidence of destruction and yet, everything’s quiet. Eerily still. Nines surveys the apartment further, scanning for answers when something gently pads up the length of his shin. 

His head snaps in an instant. Edith is at his feet, begging for attention. Whining almost with an urgent mew. One that tugs his heart strings. 

Nines doesn’t hesitate, he just scoops her up. Fluttering yellow. 

“What’s the matter, beastie? Where’s your owner?”

He cradles her as he rises. Advancing towards the kitchen, following the evidence like bread crumbs. Crushed empty beer cans on the bar, half a pack of cigarettes spilled open on the counter. A shoebox- lid askew and tethered by age- and a fallen bar stool.

Each detail is another twisted wire in his gut. He adjusts his hold on the cat, her claws pricking his forearm, reaching for the shoebox-

When a sound interrupts him.

An uneven drag of feet across the floor.

Then a cough, wet and small, followed by the scrape of a shoulder dragging the wall.

Nines freezes, every sensor tuning in to the disturbance. Edith stiffens, claws digging deeper, ears flat. Then comes the thump- soft but final, like a body colliding with the frame.

He turns sharply, red strobing at his temple, shoulders squared-

And there he is.

A slumped silhouette. Red rimmed grey eyes meet wary blues. Nines visibly relaxes, allowing as sigh. 

“Fuckin’.. Traitor,” Gavin slurs, practically hanging off the frame of the archway. This is what he’s dubbed the cat whenever she dares prefer the android’s company over his. But Edith squirms upon his arrival, demanding to be let down.

Nines doesn’t fight her, he lets go immediately. The warmth of her lingers as she gracefully lands, skittering across the floor with the jingle of her tiny bell. Darting swiftly to Gavin’s feet. The human watches her, seemingly pleased by this action. Nines watches him- unsure whether to be amused or concerned as the smaller man breaks into a wide, crooked grin.

“Damn straight,” Gavin proudly beams. Completely off kilter, struggling to find his center as he attempts to bend. “Hey, baby girl- who’s the prettiest kitty?”

“Gavin?” Nines says carefully. He’s solid yellow, ears pricked. Already advancing with a beat of caution. Watching Gavin as he sways, successful in his attempt to pet the cat but struggling to rise. It doesn’t help that she’s circling him like a tiny shark. Tail erect, but her ears are tensed similar to Nines- clearly distressed as he owner wavers unsteadily. Clutching his side on his way back up. 

Nines immediately clocks this, aware of the phantom pains that he’s been plagued with. Springing into action just as Gavin starts to tilt. Rounding the bar, then two quick strides just to land at his side- arms open to catch the smaller man as he falls. The commotion makes Edith bolt, but Nines remains a cushion for Gavin to land on- and he does so with a swear. 

Nines has a few choice words of his own barred behind his teeth- reckless, hard headed, imprudent little human- words he suppresses and instead channels through a strobing red temple light. Meanwhile, Gavin peers up through weighted lashes. Unshaken from the fall, but hanging like a ragdoll from synthetic muscle.

He sends a cheeky smirk. “Hey, you. You’re in my apartment.”

“I am,” Nines says flatly. 

“Jus’ standin’ pretty in the kitchen- hey. You ever play Skyrim?” His speech is wet and jumbled, his grip is surprisingly tight. Digging into Nines, his warm body flush against his chest. Nines can feel palpitations of his heart, equally clinging to Gavin’s wrinkled hoodie- the same one they’ve been passing back and forth here lately.

“You’ve had a long day,” the android merely comments. Keeping a level tone despite the urge to snap. Noting the pink to Gavin’s cheeks and his dilated pupils- as if the empty cans on the counter weren’t enough of a giveaway.

But it’s deeper than that. His hollow eyes are shadowed, shrouded by tacky lashes and his nose is wet. Catching the light in a gleam.

Gavin squints, turning those eyes into shiny slivers. “Shit, wha’ gave you that impression, Detective Long Legs? Was it the empty beer cans, or my stellar motor skills?”

Nines considers this, logging the humor, applying the physical distress. He deems Gavin’s state worthy of rest and proper hydration, though he knows the inebriation might make him reluctant. Still- something here pulses heavier than alcohol. 

“A combination of both,” he says evenly, filing his suspicions away for later as he tries to decipher the best way to get Gavin into bed without hassle. Gavin just stares at him, blinking slow and breathing raggedly. A small shift in his demeanor.

“Did’yer dad-” he shakes his head, correcting himself. “Sorry- Did’yer- did the captain make it outta surgery okay?”

Nines is quiet, studying him. The man is still slumped in his arms, looking up at him with woeful eyes. Burning with something buried deep down. 

“Surgery was a success,” Nines answers quietly. 

“Fuckin’ awesome. That’s fuckin’- I’m glad,” he rasps. Another crack. Raw in his voice. He drops his gaze and swallows. Shifting as if to stand on his own two feet- and for a beat, he almost does. Then his knees buckle, and the only thing keeping him upright is the unmovable wall of Nines’.

The android simply cradles him between two palms. Rooted in place as his pump surges, heart stricken at the anguish that flickers behind Gavin’s waning expression.

“I don’t have a dad,” he mutters. Words nearly lost to the fabric of Nine’s shirt. The taller just man remains stagnant. 

“I know.” It hardly passes his lips as a whisper.

“I don’t have an anybody..” Gavin continues, almost humorously. “They’re all gone. Poof,” then he flashes a watery smirk. Planting his chin over the android’s sternum, arms now wound tightly around his slender torso. “It’s jus’ me.”

It’s short lived bravado. Gavin tenses in the next breath as if his own words hit him like a wall. Muscles contracting with a wave of hurt, one Nines wishes he could absorb and absolve. He tries for another smirk, but it falters. 

“Nobody..” Gavin’s voice trembles. His throat works, but nothing follows. Nines braces, but the silence stretches. Leaving opportunity for a familiar little chitter. They both acknowledge the bell toll, watching Edie emerge from the shadows with her tail at full mast. She wanders up in an eager trot, head butting Gavin’s legs on her way past. Dragging the length of herself against him in passing. She does the same for Nines before she pads into the hall. Stopping to rub her cheek against the frame of the archway. Turning with those beckoning eyes. Emerald green, half lidded and inviting. 

For a moment, Nines just watches her. Reading the way she moves, the way she waits. He’s always trusted cats to sense what people can’t admit- and Edith is loud and clear. 

She’s truly something special, he thinks. Fluttering back to blue, offering her a silent nod, then redirects his focus. He gives Gavin a gentle squeeze and the faintest grin. 

“I think she’s got the right idea,” he murmurs. Gavin lifts his head in a poor attempt. It wobbles, but another fractured smile finds his lips.

“She’s th’ best,” he mumbles. He goes to take a step, seemingly moved by her quiet invitation, but finds himself in unstable footing. Nines reaches out to catch him again, this time helping him along. 

“Easy, Detective-“

“Fuck you, I can walk,” Gavin grumps. Nines only loosens his hold, but hovers closely as Gavin shuffles towards the hallway where Edith lingers. Watching and waiting in the wings before she trails up ahead as if to act as their guide. Meanwhile, Gavin’s pawing at the air trying to find some stability. He manages to catch himself on the doorway, Nines slips an arm around his waist and tugs him further. Heart stricken at the state of him- clearly he’s worse off than Nines had previously thought. It only fuels those previous thoughts of Gavin’s careless behavior. 

But he can’t be angry and he’s not. He’s-

He’s fucking worried. 

Like he’s pacing in the hospital again. What happened? How can he fix it?

“Careful,” Nines says. His voice is clipped and comes out harsher than he meant for it, though his eyes betray him with their softness. 

Gavin doesn’t seem to be affected by this anyway. He only sighs with heavy exasperation and starts to shove. Prying at the hand secured around his waist. Nines is being mindful not to sink his grip into Gavin’s side, but it still hurts- he still loses a sharp breath as he’s jostled. It’s been bothering him all day and no amount of alcohol has managed to numb the pain. But Gavin bites it back, shoving at Nines instead. 

He snaps. “Told you. I can fuckin’ walk- oh shit-” and nearly falls on account of his own heedlessness. Trips over his own feet and misses the wall that might’ve caught him if his vision wasn’t so blurred. Nines immediately flashes red and acts without thought. Snagging him on the way down. Hauling him back up with a disgruntled sigh. 

And that does it. 

He scoops Gavin up, thinking he’s had just about enough of this stubborn pride- of this incessant need for oblivion- sliding an arm under his knees. Lifting him with clean precision while Gavin simply sags, throwing out another colorful swear. 

“Fck- hey!” He kicks and squirms. “Lemme down-!”

Nines holds him like a steel trap. “I’m afraid that’s not an option,” he says, firmly but on a lighter note. Catching Edith just past the threshold of Gavin’s bedroom doorway, flicking her tail like she’s been waiting impatiently. 

Nines just simply stares at her with heavy hearted eyes, holding onto Gavin just a little tighter. With a silent pledge carved out of his chest.

I got him.

Gavin just continues to struggle against him. “Put. Me. Down. You strong, sexy, plastic fuck-”

That word has never bothered Nines. In fact, it amuses him. 

“Flattery won’t get you down, Detective,” he says, flicking the lights on- dimly- with the strobe of his temple light. Effortless and smooth and as he passes the threshold. Gavin still, but he shoots a petulant glare, one fist wound tight in the front of Nines’ shirt. 

“‘Flattery won’t get you down, Detective-’ man. Why d’you talk like ev’ry English teacher I’ve ever had?”

Nines stops by the edge of the bed and hums. Inspecting the mattress with its rumpled bed sheets and flattened pillows. Edith hops up and lifts her marred little nose expectantly. Nines meets her gaze, both android and feline share just a moment of camaraderie before he returns to the task at hand. Sending Gavin a sly grin, sparkling behind the eyes.

He raises Gavin just an inch, just enough to feel the ghost of his breath grace his lips. 

“I think you like that about me,” Nines murmurs. Watching the blush spread like spilled ink blooms on paper. Melting- grumbling.

“Fuck you- you don’t know.”

Nines demonstrates more of that strength and control by gently lowering Gavin’s feet to the floor, going through the steps in his head in a predetermined check list already made. He only releases him to start helping the smaller man out of his jeans.

“Hey-” Gavin stops, nearly falls back, but catches himself somehow. He sends the android a fresh set of bedroom eyes and a sloppy attempt at a sultry smirk. “Oh, I see- you’re jus’ here for’a good time,” he slurs, letting his body fall back into Nines. Assisting with his own fumbling hands to get his pants open and pushed down.

“Sit,” Nines instructs, gentle but firm. Gavin falls gracelessly, as if his feet had been swept out from under him once more, jeans part way down his thighs. Nines bends to pull them the rest of the way off. Ignoring the heat in those hooded grey eyes as they eagerly watch- as if he didn’t strike the match himself.

A small punishment. Gavin could have had it earlier if he’d shown up to work like he was supposed to.

But then Nines thinks, catching a glimpse of an open bottle of Jäger- half empty, glass sweating a dark ring onto the nightstand- that perhaps Gavin’s been through enough disappointment for one night.

He solemnly stands to fold Gavin’s jeans neatly, only to be further tugged at with a greedy hand on his belt.

“Gavin.” It’s a half-baked attempt at a warning. The smaller man just leans in, chin above the buckle. The heat of him bleeding through the dark fabric of Nines’ attire.

“Niles.”

If he could flush, he would. Something similar happens, a rush through his sensors- like a thousand tiny sparks crackling beneath his plastic plates. For a fleeting second, he almost leans into the pull. Almost. Nines has to manually cut signals to his groin with the flutter of his LED. Gavin’s in no such state for anything sexual and Nines wasn’t going to take advantage of his vulnerability.

“I believe you’re past the limit of consent,” he says carefully, unable to help the hand that he runs through the soft, unsculpted locks of Gavin’s hair.

The smaller man challenges this, grabbing fistfuls of the android’s shirt to help him rise, pulling Nines down in the same motion. Something the taller man allows- partially amused and hopelessly snared by some invisible, gravitational pull. Even as Gavin’s clumsily trying to climb him, as he’s clinging and protesting.

“Nuh uh- no. I’m good. Try me,” he urges. Lips a whisper away, grey eyes glittering with need. Nines ticks his ears at “try me,” unknowingly wrapped around the smaller man. Holding him tight against his chest.

“You got a- a built in.. What’re they called..?” Gavin licks his lips and draws his brows in deep thought, fists curled in Nines’ shirt. “A breath-ometer?”

Nines bites back the laugh that bubbles up and deadpans.

“A breathalyzer?”

The human breaks into a wide grin, one he nuzzles just under the android’s nose- hoping to steal a kiss.

“Yes! A breathalyzer. C’mon, what’s my score?”

Nines can feel the warmth of him at his lips. Amusement glitters behind his blue eyes and he allows himself to bend. Capturing Gavin in a deep kiss, one that he stretches out and exaggerates as if actually taking a sample.

Gavin eagerly reciprocates, in a sloppy manner. Coiling himself further around the android, hanging off his neck- wrinkling the front of his shirt. Pressing himself flush against the other man just for a semblance of closeness. Nipping with his teeth as if to urge him on- something that Nines has to reel himself back from before he’s tempted to escalate. 

There’s nothing but a wet smack between them as he parts. Gavin blinks up at him, dazed, lips still parted like he wasn’t ready for it to end. Watching Nines flicker with amusement as he hums- like he’s considering the results on his tongue.

“Drunk,” Nines deadpans. He gives him a playful push, watching him bounce as he hits the mattress. For a moment Gavin glares up at him, hoodie askew, his cheeks flushed. 

But something flickers. Something deeper- a break in the facade. One that strikes Nines as something deeply wounded.

Edith takes this opportunity to crawl over him, something Gavin seems to accept as he pulls her in and strokes her fur.

“Fine- at least somebody wants me,” he mumbles.

Nines stills at that, his LED ticking yellow. He says nothing, but quietly logs the comment away. 

They’ll discuss it later, for now, he has more important things to worry about. Like getting Gavin settled.

He taps his thigh, urging him quietly.

“C’mon, Detective. You need to rest.”

Gavin groans, releasing the cat and dragging both hands over his face.

“I wan’ another beer,” he mutters. 

“You can have water,” Nines says flatly, leaving no room for negotiation.

Gavin lets his arms flop wide against the mattress in exaggerated defeat, sulking.

“You’re no fun.”

Nines almost smiles- almost. He leaves it suppressed, but he can’t hide the stars in his eyes. Something sure to go unnoticed as Gavin rolls in a messy attempt to find the pillows. Crawling uncoordinated up the mattress.

“Fuckin’ androids,” he huffs beneath his breath. Falling off kilter, catching himself and then finally collapsing with a deflated sigh. One that bleeds into the sheets as he curls in on his stomach. Nines takes the opportunity to tug at the blankets, not ignoring the weight of that sigh- but cataloging it for later.

“Don’t you fuckin’ tuck me in- I’m a grown man,” Gavin slurs, knuckle white grip on the pillow. The words come rough, but there’s a fragile edge beneath them, like a man daring someone not to care.

Nines doesn’t rise to the bait, he pulls those covers up, adjusts them accordingly and lets his touch linger over Gavin’s shoulder. The smaller man seems to shake, slightly. Just a tremor.

“Rest,” he says, featherlight but heavy enough to crack one of Gavin’s heavily armored walls. Gavin sniffs and Edith takes it as her cue, springing forward like she knows her role. She paws at his arm, nuzzles the back of his head until his hand is compelled to reach for her. He curls in around her automatically, burying his face in her fur.

Nines watches, his LED faltering. There’s an ache in his chest as Gavin’s back turns to him, shoulders hunching in on themselves. One arm locked around Edith, the other threading into his own hair. Fighting sobs that only escape in broken, raspy breaths.

He doesn’t think Gavin notices when he sits at the edge of the bed, but he must’ve. 

“Are you gonna leave too?”

It’s small. Childlike. In a strain barely audible.

But Nines heard him. His hand hovers over Gavin’s back before he dares to place it, hoping to sooth with the circles he draws. Unable to process the thickness in the back of his throat that comes with the action. 

“I’ll stay.. Tonight- as long as you’ll have me.” he says simply. 

Gavin only winces. “You’ll leave,” he says in a pinched voice. Half awake, half smushed into the cat. “E-Everyone leaves.. Always..”

Nines doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to reason with wounds older than he is. He only leans in, bows his head until his lips brush the crown of Gavin’s hair.

“Not me,” he whispers.

And that’s the last thing Gavin feels before sleep wins out- the warmth of Edith’s fur, the weight of Nines’ promise, and the press of lips that linger like a vow.

All the while Nines is left reeling. Doleful eyes, red LED. A sullen silence upon him. Finally he gets it, finally he understands.

Gavin is an angry man, one who's been picked up and dropped over a dozen times- but it’s deeper than that. Far deeper than it seems that anyone has dared to look.

But Nines can see him. 

And he won’t leave him.

He’ll be the one that stays.

Notes:

GAVINNNN

Gavin why jager..

AND NINES AND HIS BIG STRONG SELF. CONNOR IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS FOR SNAPPIN AT HIS MANS

jk.. or am I?

>:3

Chapter 21: The Talk

Notes:

I hope ya'll like nine thousand words of depression- cuz that's what we got xD

Me and my too much gene, I swear to god I tried to trim this. It went from 9300 to 9033 or something like that- I literally just don't want to split it into two chapters, I'm already slow burning the hell out of this story x.x

That being said, this might be one of my favorite chapters cuz I'm an evil bitch but also cuz like..

I can't say cuz spoilers <3

Anyway, a quick thank you for all the love shown in the comments and the amount of hits this has gives me the warm and fuzzies. So, thank you so much!! Forehead kisses for everyone <3 <3

As always, please enjoy this novel of a chapter.

TW: Minor descriptions of a dead body and also vomit

Gavin’s head is pounding. His mouth feels like cotton and his body like lead, and yet- there’s warmth beside him. A stillness. He stirs, groggy, muttering something that isn’t even words as he tries to turn deeper into the pillow.

“Detective..”

The voice is low and familiar. Fingers brush through his hair with deliberate care. Gavin flinches at the touch at first, then goes still.

“Gavin.”

A grumble. “‘M sleeping..” His voice is hoarse, muffled into the pillow. He curls in tighter, like a stubborn kid refusing to get out of bed for school.

“I have to go,” Nines says softly, almost reluctant. “I’m needed at the precinct.”

The words drift past Gavin’s foggy brain, not fully absorbed. What does sink in is the next part: “There’s water on the nightstand, and Tylenol for your head.”

A gentle hand finds his shoulder.

“Don’ need it..” Gavin mumbles, half asleep.

“You will,” Nines replies. There’s the faintest hum in his chest, like amusement only he can hear. A kiss is tucked into his hair, then three small squeezes. Imprinted into his bicep. Each one lower than the next. Gavin feels his heart skip and stirs, searching for warmth as it fades away. Followed by the sound of movement- the rustle of fabric, the faint shuffles of boots. Nines lingers by the edge of the bed. Studying the mess of Gavin Reed: tangled hair, one arm stretched out under the pillow, wrinkled hoodie. 

A quiet storm, a sleepy wreck.

His wreck.

“I have alarms set for eight-thirty. You should try to make it into work yourself today,” Nines tells him. His tone is a little teasing, so the words just breeze on by. 

Gavin groans, burying his face in the pillow. That’s when his stomach churns. 

Fuck, he’s never drinking again. 

“Should I grab you a trash can?”

“No, fuck you,” Gavin speaks with defiance. Then lifts his head- big mistake. “Did’you say alarms plural?”

The room’s still spinning, Nines is stanced with his hands in his pockets and a rare, lopsided grin. One that sings with admiration as he stares down at the smaller man. 

“Yes. Your phone is on your dresser, you’ll have to walk to turn them off.”

Gavin narrows his blurry eyes, then flops back down. “You dick.”

Nines has the face of a man who seems overly pleased with himself. He turns, stepping towards the doorway. Edith takes the opportunity to hop up, as if clocking in for Gavin duty. 

The sight of her instantly soothes him. Gavin runs a lazy hand over her fur before the thought strings. 

He moves again, too fast. Practically hanging over the side of the bed, afraid to miss him on his way out. “Hey- wait. Nines? Edie needs breakfast-”

“Already taken care of.”

As if to confirm, Edith walks across his back. Gentle paws, quiet purr. Gavin eases back into the sheets with a small hum, relief washing over him in gentle waves. Nines just simply smiles from the doorway. 

“We’ll talk later,” he murmurs. Casually tossing those words in the air like they’re not weighted with cement. Something that doesn’t strike Gavin until after the android leaves. When the words have time to fully sink. 

Gavin almost fell back asleep too, sighed into the pillow with a lazy hand on the cat. Then his eyes shot open. 

Talk?

The night before comes back with a vengeance. The beers, the tears- the pleas. 

Oh, fuck.

He lost his shit last night.

He lost his shit in front of Nines. 

Gavin scrambles out of bed- immediately regrets it.

His head screams. He falls back onto the bed, slumped on the edge with his face in his hands. Digging the heel of his palms into his eyes. 

“Fuck..” Blindly, he reaches for the Tylenol. Cursing Nines under his breath as he fumbles with it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ the cap pops, the pills rattle. He washes them down with a few gracious gulps of water, then resumes his scramble. Slower this time as he stomach now sloshes sickly as he stands. 

“Never fuckin’ drinking again,” he vocalizes this time. Edith is nothing but chirps as she follows after him. Skittering across the hardwood as he stumbles over to his dresser. 

“Why’d you let me drink? Huh?” He’s half talking to the cat, half berating himself. He snags his phone and more of the night flashes like sparks behind his eyes. 

Home. 

Beer.

Laptop.

He went through a half a twelve pack before he dug that shoe box out from under his bed. Then rummaged the back of the freezer for the bottle-

Lurch. 

He drops, hands on his knees. Edith is staring up at him curiously. 

“Daddy’s havin’ a rough mornin’,” Gavin mutters miserably. Edith just slow blinks at him, like the sweetest little angel baby in the world, all while he suffers the consequences of last night’s bad choices. 

Fuck, and Nines saw it- he saw everything. 

His phone buzzes in his hand. Gavin glares at it. 

It’s work.

“Oh, fuck you..” Gavin sneers in a whisper. Work is calling, Nines wants to talk later- Gavin might actually be sick. 

He slams his phone back down on the dresser- the sound ricochets off his skull and sends another pang through it. Gavin only grits his teeth. 

Fuck ‘em, he’ll get there when he gets there, he thinks. Battling another wave of nausea as his head continues to swim. 

“Fuckin’ talk,” he scoffs, straightening the moment he’s stable. “Talk about what-?”

It hits him again. The drunken speech, the grabby hands. Nines looking at him like-

Like he said something he shouldn’t have..

Gavin lets out a long, deflating sigh. Below him, Edith mews. 

“Are you gonna leave too?”

The words echo in Gavin’s mind. Small and pathetic. 

He closes his eyes. No. He didn’t say that. 

He didn’t fucking say that.

But he remembers. Despite how much he wants to forget it, he hears the crack in his own voice, and Nines’ face leading up to it. Angrily concerned upon discovering him, quietly bemused when Gavin was pawing and talking nonsense-

And then that look, that fucking look of..

Was it pity?

He swallows. 

And now he wants to talk..

Edith rubs up against him and Gavin shoves it down, buries it in the back of his mind. Forcing his body into motion with a final breath. Mindful as he passes his beloved tiny fluff ball. Running a hand through his messy hair upon entering the bathroom. 

He finds the mirror- scowls. 

“Fuck you, Curtis,” he grumbles. “Fuckin’ piece’a shit.” Whipping his sweatshirt off and leaving it in a puddle by the floor. 

All he needs is a nice hot shower- maybe a fuckin’ Pedialyte. 

Gavin flips the knob, strips out of his underwear and adds it to the pile. He waits for the steam before he steps in. The temperature’s scalding- hot enough to burn. He lets it, rolling his head back like a man being baptized. Nearly content to stand there for the rest of eternity if it meant he didn’t have to face the day. 

Or recollect the night. Gavin, with his eyes closed, grimaces against the sting. 

“Not me..”  

The words still tingle against his scalp. He wants to scrub them away, just so he can deny that it ever happened. 

But they’ve already etched themselves into his heart. Those squeezes, Gavin feels them linger like phantoms. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Echoing words he only dares to keep locked behind closed doors. Nines doesn’t even know what that means, he tells himself, slicking his wet hair back. Grey eyes batting as he opens them. Rivulets tracing the brittle curves of him. 

His diet lately has been a sad combination of coffee and cigarettes. Perhaps he’ll finally wither away into nothingness. Gavin almost wants to. 

But, of course, Gavin can’t even wallow in the depths of his self-pity. An outside noise startles him, sharp and blaring- almost chirpy. His sharp gasp quickly turns into a growl of frustration and he rubs his face one handed. 

His fucking alarm. 

“Goddamn it, Nines.”

 

---

 

He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips by the time he makes it to the scene, having caught his voicemail amidst his morning spiral. Shuffling through the kitchen- finding that empty Jager bottle nozzle down in the sink. Beer cans picked up and tossed into the recycling- fuckin’ liberal. His laptop closed, its charging cord neatly wrapped and set aside. A sight that left him spiraling and confused. He lit a cigarette then, he’s down to three left now in what was half a pack when he woke up. Sucking the smoke down like a vacuum. Cold air stings against his cheeks, his clammy hands half tucked away in his pockets. Head still pounding.

The shoebox was left untouched, right where he left it. Lid askew, taunting him.

It sits in the back of his head now, like a weight pressing on the inside of his skull.

Nines saw it. Or he didn’t. Both felt like a noose around his neck.

He lets the smoke drag through his teeth, basking in the burn that fills his lungs. Willing himself to keep a level head as he stubbornly digs his heels into the present. Flashing lights, scene crew chatter, the scuffle of polished boots on wet grass- but it’s all just noise. Blaring white noise to drown out the thundering reminder that when he got home, the box would still be there.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” comes a familiar tenor from over his shoulder. Lieutenant Anderson ambles past him in an unrushed gait. His usual bow legged saunter. Heavy coat, one lived in and well worn. The faint smell of leather lingering from his Oldsmobile. Gavin’s glare follows him, eyes like daggers.

“Not in the fuckin’ mood, Hank,” he says in a low, tired growl. Like the fight’s already left him. He flicks his cigarette and follows out of reluctance. Up the concrete path leading up to a suburban residence- brick house, rusty fence. Covered front porch with the door thrown wide open. According to the briefing left on his voicemail, the perp made a run for it late in the night. Still, Gavin inquires. Grumbling along that way. “What the hell happened here, anyway?”

Hank just hums low in his throat. “Looks like another domestic. Nothing stolen, no drug residue..” His gaze flicks back, just a subtle glance over his shoulder. 

Gavin’s hardly listening- doesn’t even scoff at the term, “domestic,” like he usually does. Just climbs the porch. Pale as the moon and carved out like a man haunted by ghosts. A look Hank has sported a million times before, wore like a vintage sweater. Age old ailments, carried with a similar weight.

He battles the twitch in his lips, the ache in his jaw. To reach out and pry, to wiggle his way in. Gavin’s always been an enigma, a man with a mask- hiding behind his own blatant fury. Another look Hank has sported for years. One he understands, it’s why he tables his concerns now. It’s not the time nor the place but still, Nines resurfaces from the back of his mind like a bad habit. Laden with worry, full of concern. 

Gavin’s been slipping. It’s as clear now as it was when he showed up on Hank’s doorstep. But he’s folded in on himself somehow, he’s crumpled.

And Hank let him.

It only serves to remind him of his own struggles. Of all the times he’s had to drag himself out of that same drunken stupor just to face the day like he wasn’t falling apart, and all the times Connor’s had to pick his ass up off the floor just to force him into function.

And for a split moment, Hank even thinks to drag the younger man aside, to figure out what’s going on because it can’t be anything as simple as a bad night. Not when he stinks of sharp liquor, not when his eyes are sunken like battle ships. Completely unmoored as he walks, gaze lingering like the smoke that clings to him.

But he doesn’t, because it’s Gavin, and Gavin’s bound to reject any inkling of tenderness- from Hank especially considering their recent fallout. So, he holds back. Keeps his voice steady. Going over the facts of the case. Crossing the threshold into the main den. The house is cold upon entry, and dark thanks to the curtains being drawn. Grey light barely reaches. Reed lingers more like a trespasser rather than a detective agent. 

“Neighbors reported shouts late last night. Turns out there was a scuffle in the bathroom. Our vic took a nasty fall, smacked her head on the tub and bled out,” Hank reports, in full cop mode- blanketing his concern. “We got an eyewitness who saw a man flee the scene. I’m thinkin’ he might’ve pushed her and split.”

Gavin follows, but the words hang in the air- they don’t fully process. To him it’s just another case, another body. Another run down slum, more white trash drama to be swept under the rug. He can already see the nicotine stains on the walls, can smell the faint reek of spilled bottles and dirty cat litter. It turns his nose. Weathered floorboards creak beneath their feet as Hank leads him down the hall. Evidence markers glowing on the floor, all around the house. The older man stops, just outside of a doorway, one cascading white light past the threshold. Gavin feels a curl in his gut, but approaches anyway with heavy footfalls, like he’s trudging through the mud.

“The kid found her this morning,” Hank says, his words linger like smoke. Weighted like stones. Gavin catches a glimpse of a bloody foot print on the hardwood outside, small and bare. It strikes him like a tiny pin prick, one that almost makes him flinch. But instead he scowls. Flashing Hank a quick glance of recognition before he turns the corner, unprepared for what lies ahead. For how his body responds- for how his mind betrays him. 

It’s like slamming into a wall- like getting side swept by a fucking freight train. Gavin stops dead on the tiles, his heart lands like a hammer in his chest. Eyes on the body. She’s sprawled out on her side. Slack jawed, eyes open. Her clothes cling to her tiny frame; flannel pajama bottoms and fuzzy socks on her feet. Gavin is frozen in place, eyes tracing the puddle of blood beneath her head, dark and coagulated. 

He audibly gasps. Just a small hitch in his breath, one that rips his heart out of his chest and spikes it. Right on the linoleum.

He’s seen this film before, ripped the tape out and crumpled it. Stashed it in a trunk so deep in the darkest corners of his mind that it almost felt foreign.

But it comes back to him now in screaming, visceral color. Shades of crow feather hair fallen gracelessly onto the chipped bathroom tile and pale, grey skin. 

Hank’s still talking behind him, but Gavin’s head is underwater. Nothing but the sound of his own pulse beating like a kick drum in his ears and the faint memory of the sink drip, dripping onto the bathroom floor from a clogged drain. 

He looks back to Hank, cornered and confused. He sees the older man’s mouth is moving, but no words come out- like, are you seeing this shit? That’s my-

No.

No, no, no.

Gavin tries to ground himself, tries to grapple with reality but it’s muddy waters. Like he’s twelve again, like he’s trying to wedge the bathroom door open in a frantic attempt.

His voice had cracked. Sharp and desperate.

“Mom?”

The sink’s still hissing. He can see how it catches the light like broken glass. Her body blocking the door. He caught enough of a glimpse trying to nudge his way through- dingey pinks sweats, grippy socks. The heap of her in a pile of limbs on the floor. 

Gavin stumbled through- stumbles. Stumbled? The smell of mildew mixed with cheap shampoo and the ripe scent of her own bile churned his stomach. Similar to how the stench of old blood curls his lip now. Like he’s tethered between timelines. Standing in some shoddy Detroit residence and stepping over his mother’s legs again-

“-Reed?” Hank’s voice cuts through like radio static, but it doesn’t quite reach. Gavin’s too far away. Even with the blur of Hank’s silhouette in his peripherals, he’s still falling to his knees at twelve. Still frantically pawing at his mother.

“Mom!?”

Eyes swelling with tears. He catches himself on the bathroom counter, near collapsing.

“Mom-! Mom wake up!”

Shaking hands, trembling lip. They collide in a single sequence. Hank’s there to catch him before he falls, silent but bewildered.

Meanwhile Gavin’s still clinging to the knit of his mother’s sweater, similar to how he clutches Hank’s coat sleeve- like it might stitch her soul back into her body, like it might anchor him to the present.

There’s a voice, claws his jacket holding him upright. A dissonant sound that cuts past the running water in his ears. Firm and steady- it feels wrong. Like comfort that comes unwarranted.

“Gavin.”

The lurch is back, this time he can’t suppress it. Gavin claps a hand over his mouth and shoves him. Too close, too heavy. Bolting back outside before it has the chance to taint their crime scene. Shouldering past another uniformed body as he runs to the porch. Throwing himself over the banister just as he hurls. Wet and acidic. Cracking necks across the lawn. 

He spits, clutching the banister like it might hold him up where his knees won’t. Plagued by his own voice cracking like a lightning strike in his own mind.

“M-mom, please. Please!”

And it doesn’t just die, no. It loops. Louder. Sharper. Taunting him with every ounce of anguish that his voice had to give when he was just a boy- pleading with a corpse. One that he cradled like it was something delicate. A wilted flower, a broken vase. Mixing with the steady hand that finds his back. One strong enough to cut through the spiraling chaos in his mind like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Hey- Chris! Go find some water for Christ’s sake!”

A warmth hovers just above his shoulder, Hank’s voice resonates in his ear. Chuckling softly.

“Jesus, Reed- first body?”

Gavin swallows, it doesn’t quite register- not yet. But she flashes behind his eyes again. Same sprawl, an empty bottle on the floor. Still flaccid and warm- like he could have saved her.  

Another heave forces everything back up, a little chunky this time. Gavin pukes miserably, all the while Hank just rubs his back, solid between his shoulders. Both a tether and a trigger.

“Easy..” He says, like a man walking a tight rope. Stroking with just his thumb, saving face for everyone else around them but it’s enough for Gavin to feel his presence without it being broadcasted. Like casting him a line.

I’m here, you’re okay. Just breathe.

“He alright?”

It’s Officer Miller, with a bottle of water and a look of concern. Hank takes it. “Yeah, asshole just hit the bottle a little too hard last night,” he says in that tired grumble. Dismissive to anyone else, but really, Hank’s just covering his ass. Coaxing him even quieter as Miller departs. 

“C’mon, drink- ‘fore one of these guppies starts dry heaving too,” he says, referring to the new boots on the team all staring at Gavin, wide eyed and horrified like they’re unsure about what gruesome scene lies ahead. His voice is oddly soothing. Gavin snatches the bottle, head hung low. Hank’s already uncapped it so Gavin takes a swig, swishing it between his teeth before he spits it back out into the grass. 

“Atta boy, Reed.” Hank’s teasing now. Gavin wants to bite back, to tell him where to shove it, but he doesn’t. All he can manage is a miserable groan, still slumped over the banister. Hank’s heavy hand on his shoulder, kneading the muscle in a minor, hidden motion. Quietly reeling him back in.

The memory fades like the acid in his throat. Morning chill seeps into the corners of his leather jacket and his blended realities begin to separate. One rooted back into the present, the other tucked away in the attic.

He lifts his head and that bottle back to his lips, taking another generous swig. Painfully, he can feel everyone’s eyes still staring. Glued to him like some kind of spectacle. Digging under his skin like a bad itch.

It riles him. Gavin swallows, then rips the bottle away. Slamming it down on the banister, practically throwing himself over the rail to punctuate his words.

“The fuck is everybody lookin’ at?” Venom replaces the bile on his tongue, and daggers sharpen in his eyes. It’s a warning- mind your fucking business- heard loud and clear as the snap of his tone whips people back into order- some of them even flinch.

Hank snags him by the back of the coat. Physically peeling him off the banister.

“Let’s go take a walk,” he mutters, but there’s friction in his voice. Like he’s trying to disable a bomb rather than be of any comfort. His touch still lingers, even as Gavin pops his collar and huffs. Glaring across the yard, daring someone to send him a side eye as he marches back down those porch steps on wobbly legs and rounds to the side. All while Hank is a quiet mediator behind him, concern etched in every corner of his face- schooled into a gruff neutrality.

Gavin just stomps across the grass, squelching mud beneath his boots. Fuming as he meets the side of the house and cursing the man that follows.

He flails his arms once they’re out of sight. “‘The fuck off’a me,” he growls, sharp as he’s swatting those hands away. Hank doesn’t put up much of a fight, but he remains unhindered. 

“Relax,” Hank snaps. “Just take a fuckin’ breath, Reed. For god’s sake.”

Gavin’s already brandished a smoke, fumbling for his lighter. “Get lost, Anderson.”

Get lost, get bent- go take it up the fuckin’ tail pipe-

All thoughts that come to him as he flicks and flicks that lighter, but it’s nothing but sparks.  

“Looks like you’re outta juice,” comes a cocky, know it all voice. One that curls Gavin’s lip as he throws his head back in exasperation.

“Yeah, no shit,” he sneers, ripping that cig out of his mouth and exhaling sharply into the air. It lingers on a cloud he wishes was heavier and traced with smoke. Gripping that lighter like he’s ready to spike it against the bricks. Instead he just grits his teeth, staring across the yard, wind stinging in his eyes.

It all goes back to that fucking shoebox. Gavin knows- he knows- if he hadn’t opened it last night, then he wouldn't be seeing ghosts right now. 

But he did, so he is. Ruthlessly plagued by his own demons. 

Achingly, he wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his palm. Trying to stifle the sniff that sounds too wet to be a product of the cold- whatever. He’ll blame it on the vomit. Surely Hank will too. 

“Gav.”

But that word cuts in the worst way. Like a scalpel and he's sliced open- guts out on the table, full display.

He says nothing. He can’t. It’s too much, too soon. Kamski, the body, the relics of his past. He’s buried under all of it. Ready to bend- ready to buckle. 

He’s only holding himself together out of pure spite alone, but Gavin knows, one more push and he’s bound to break. And maybe Hank can sense that too. Studying him from behind, the shell of him at least. Raw edges, fighting tremors in the autumn chill. Cut out like a jagged edge in the foreground. Gavin can’t see it- or he won’t- but Hank’s itching to move, jaw working on words he only chews but doesn’t speak.

Stuff like, reel it in kid, just breathe.  

Or, I’ve been here a million times myself, just let it go. Let it pass.

But, like Gavin, he says nothing, just digs in his pocket. A tried and true, trusted gem he’s held onto- a habit his ex tried to break, one he thought he could curb and picked back up again after Cole, and finally dropped when he found Connor. But still, for some odd reason, kept the ammunition in his pocket like some kind of memento. A reminder not to fall back on bad habits, one he’ll encourage just this once if it’ll ground the man visibly drowning before him. Brandishing a lighter of his own. 

He steps forward, heavy footfalls sweeping the dead grass. Gavin whips around, ready to start gnashing like a caged animal, but any retaliation he has dies on his tongue as Hank flicks that lighter with a practiced thumb. Tarnished silver, aged and battle worn. 

The flame steadies, small and patient. Gavin looks between it and the older man. Confused almost, reluctant entirely.

He challenges this. But Hank doesn’t take the bait.

“You smoke?”

“I did,” he answers simply, sharp tongued, but soft around the edges. It’s not a part of himself that he lets many people see. But he’s walked this line before, balanced the ledge and considered the plunge. 

And Gavin looks like he wants to refuse, his pride even snarls behind his eyes.

But that lighter beckons. Hank merely watches in solemn silence as he finally caves. Shielding his smoke from the wind as he leans in, that stick between his lips. Flame cradled in his palms. Red nosed and misty eyed- a sight that lands a brutal blow.

“You good here, or..?” 

Gavin breathes in sharp, letting the smoke burn all the way down before he speaks. 

“Just send me the fuckin’ case file,” he exhales. Hank snaps that lighter shut and nods. Not quite rising to the bite, not like Gavin wants him to. 

“Okay.. I can do that,” he says slowly. Unafraid to meet the younger man eye to eye. Steady blue against stormy grey. Searching for a break in the clouds that Gavin’s not bound to give, not when there’s tension still smoldering between them. Hank’s nudging at the rubble, and Gavin’s forcing himself not to care. Thinking that’s the end of it, that Hank will leave- like everyone else does.  

But he doesn’t. He lingers. And for a moment, with the smoke curling, it’s not Hank standing in front of him at all. It’s his mom. Front seat of her Chrysler, humming to the radio, twirling his hair with one hand while the cherry of her cigarette glowed between her fingers in the other. It cut through the dark like a beacon of safety. 

Neither of them speak after that. Hank just stands there, hands shoved deep in his pockets again, broad as a wall and just as immovable. Watching the fog of his own breath mingle with the smoke. Gavin leans back against the house, chest slowly heaving with every pull.

And that’s that. No resolution, no reconciliations. Not yet.

But it hangs in the air. 

 

---

 

His day proceeds to be a list of challenges. The smaller ones needle him the worst. Petty shit that shouldn’t matter like his empty lighter or the string of red lights he catches to and from the precinct. Others that rub him like sandpaper. Nines wanting to talk, Tina blowing up his phone. 

Though Tina's not usually a problem herself- it’s the context of her messages that instantly drives Gavin up the wall, as if he wasn’t dealing with enough already- now he’s had to learn that he’s become the hottest new piece of gossip floating around the office. 

{{ Chris said u blew chunks all over a crime scene }}

She punctuates with a laughy face emoji. Gave glares at it. Simmering at another fuckin’ stoplight.

Great, he thinks, tossing his head back against the seat. His reputation is fucking ruined. He’ll forever be known as the guy who upchucked his guts out on site and no one will fear him ever again. 

“Chris can eat a fuckin’ dick,” he grumbles, but the scene still festers like an open would. 

Tiny chimes in again, double texting at rapid fire before he even has the chance to ignore her. 

{{ the Gavin i know would nEVER }}

{{ so what happened?? }}

Punctuated with the sad puppy eyed emoji, Gavin lets out a pitiful sigh, unsure where to go with that when he’s grappling for answers himself so he just slumps, dropping his phone into his lap. He’s worried his bottom lip enough without his smokes that it was starting to bleed. Bouncing his knee, face aglow by the glaring crimson spotlight on his car, shining in through the rain speckled windshield. It seeps in with the cold, digging into his flesh and bones. 

Gavin doesn’t bother with the heat. He wants to feel numb. To prove that he’s not stuck in purgatory, just a long ass red light. 

One that flashes green in an instant, he uses this as an excuse not to respond. The guilt stings, she doesn’t deserve silence after all that he’s put her through, but mentally, he just can’t do it. 

And the worst should be over- should be. That box is still waiting for him at home and Nines still wants to fucking talk-

Gavin shifts into gear, albeit aggressively. Unable to help the snap before he drives. Knowing all he had to do on the Nines issues was to tell him that he wasn’t ready to have any sort of conversation about last night. That he could take it a step further and tell him it’s none of his goddamn business. 

But once more, Gavin can’t. The word, “talk,” is a plague and the only cure to his ailment would be to know what exactly that stupid little word entailed. So, he’s not going to text Nines, he’s not going to text anyone. He’s going to make it home- in one piece- bury that box beneath his bed where it belongs and fucking simmer. 

A flimsy plan- paper thin. But it’s the only one he’s got. And the certainty of it is what gets him through the rest of his commute, though he’s still so strung out from the stress of the day that by the time he does make it home he’s about ready to just collapse. 

His forehead thunks against the door, his key slides into the lock. His phone- practically rattles his whole skeleton. 

“Tina.. Fuck off..” he mutters uselessly, opening the door, pulling his phone back out. Her messages are bright and smug. So, at least someone’s having a good day. 

{{ Gavin C. Reed i know damn well ur not ignoring me rn }}

{{ i literally own u }}

He growls, laying his whole body against the door as he shuts it, just in time for Edith’s cheerful little jingle. That brevity of the C word cuts him deep, deeper that it should. Tina knows better- it’s why she didn’t type his name out in full- he’s already snarled at her in the past when she first discovered it. She knows it’s a landmine- she’s just fishing for a reaction, for him to explode through the keyboard so she can have the run down of his mental state. 

But she’s not gonna get it, not this time. Not when it’s still so raw, when his mother’s ghost is still hanging over his shoulder. 

He throws himself off the door, bypassing the cat as he angrily types. 

// fuck off Chen it was just a hangover //

And she has the gall to send an eye roll.

{{ someones snippy }}

“Yeah, no shit,” Gavin grumps. Trying to get a handle on his trainwreck of an apartment. He hasn’t been keeping up on it lately, he’s been too preoccupied with his recurring past. He tosses his cell on the bar- next to a dirty ashtray and- score, a vape! He hits it like it’s water. Tosses it and in the next breath, snatches that god forsaken box and takes it back to his bedroom, steam still curling from his lips. Careful with the lid, gentle enough not to jostle the contents. Cradling it almost as Edith becomes his only obstacle, deciding she wants to bob and weave between his feet with soft little mews. 

“I know, nobody ever pets you,” Gavin teases, softer than intended. Like he’s talking to himself. 

Nobody ever pets you. 

Nobody ever stays.

Which almost makes him feel worse for not stopping. He’s her entire world. 

But he can’t let go of box and pet cat- box needs to be put up first. 

He hears his phone buzz on the counter. Edith meows again. 

Gavin just wants to slam his head into a wall. 

He finds the bedroom, maneuvering past the laundry on the floor, straight to his unmade bed. That glass of water still half empty on the nightstand. Gavin handles that box carefully. Making sure the lid is on proper before he kneels and tucks it under the corner of his bed frame, right below his pillow and sighs, spotting one of Edie’s mousy toys. He grabs it, just as she comes running up. 

“Young lady, your toys do not belong under the bed,” he chides. Dangling it over her scarred little nose. She’s up on her hind legs, pawing at it curiously. He lets her have it, it sticks to her claws. She flops onto her back and starts to bunny kick it. 

This is where Nines would proudly call her a vicious predator. Gavin just sees a tiny fluffball. 

In true cat fashion, she stops. Mouse in her mouth, breezing past him just to disappear back under the bed. Vanishing like every other vice he has. Gavin could roll his eyes. 

“Brat,” he mutters, standing slowly. He snags that glass and takes it back into the kitchen. Phone lit up, three notifications. He pauses briefly to glance at two of them. 

{{ u can run but u cant hide Reed }}

{{ seriously.. im here if u need me }}

He stares just a little too long, jaw tight, because if he believes her, then the dam might break. So, he doesn’t. Even if the last message is dotted with a bright red heart emoji. One that brands itself behind his eyes as he turns away. Ready to spike that glass on the hardwood. Just to watch it shatter. 

Not this time, he thinks. Pouring its contents down the drain, watching them spiral. He’s not about to lose his shit two nights in a row- but that’s when the door knob jiggles across the apartment. 

Nines. 

He whips around. He wasn’t ready. He thought he’d get a text, but maybe-

He snatches his phone again. Yep. Nines texted him, alerted him. Gavin just ignored it. He sighs heavily. His shoulders sag under the weight of his own negligence. Already shrinking.

And then Nines is inside, coming in like a gentle breeze. Polite as ever. Unbothered by the mess, by the ashtray, by the storm still whirling in Gavin’s chest. He’s greeted instead by Edith’s happy jingle and a high pitched meow-

One that kills Gavin, because when Nines realizes what a nightmare he really is, Edith will lose him too.

“Hello, beastie,” Nines chirps.

The android crouches in one fluid motion, extending a hand for the cat as though this were his sole purpose in entering. Gavin refuses to melt- he absolutely refuses- but fuck, he loves that pet name.

And he’s got no gauge for what’s normal here, does he greet Nines with a kiss? Do they shake hands? Do they get right down to business? Nines seems to have an answer, he always does. Moving like a gentle current through the stream. Elegant as he stands, graceful as he walks. A small smile tugging on his lips. 

“Good evening, Detective. I trust you had a better day?”

He says that like it’s not loaded, all the while Edith is running up on his leg like she’s sold. Signed her signature in a dainty paw print, unbeknownst to the stakes. That daddy could still fuck it up somehow for both of them. And maybe Nines doesn’t intend to come off as so accusatory- he’s even cheerful, which makes it worse, and all Gavin feels is crossfire. 

“It was fine,” he says sharply. He can’t help himself. Every nerve is exposed and frayed, every inch of him is crawling with unknown possibility. 

Fuck is he still holding that glass?

He’s clutching it. Gavin sets it down in the sink. And now he has to question what Nines is seeing, what his hyper optics are picking up on, if he’s losing his shit outwardly as much as he is on the inside. 

“Just fine?”

He simpers. It’s teasing. 

Does he know?

Is it back handed? 

Gavin’s exhausted.

Nines stops, holding a wide berth between them. Gavin clanks that glass in the sink like it weighs one ton, running the tap as if to wash away something heavier. He slows it down. Accelerated heart rate, tremors. He’s got that pinched sort of scowl that comes around when he’s stretched thin, when his patience is waning. Nines softens, tries to at least. Opting for a more casual stance. 

“Tough case?” He asks, making genuine conversation, but Gavin flinches. 

“No- yes. I mean-“ he huffs. “It was just another day,” Gavin grumbles. Rounding the bar to breach some of the distance between them. Nines itches to close it entirely. To soak it all in so Gavin doesn’t have to bear its entirety. 

But something hangs in the air close to resistance. Something relative to distrust. 

Nines realizes, they’re standing on uneven ground. That Gavin’s got shields up, that he’s preparing for the first strike. 

He flickers. Yellow temple, Gavin clocks it. 

“Gavin?”

Arms crossed, licking his chapped lips. Eyes like knives. 

“You wanted to talk,” he snips. 

“Yes,” Nines says surely. It’s not negative, so he doesn’t shelter it. But humans are fickle. There’s always a catch. 

“About.. Last night?” Gavin presumes. Nines remains cool as a cucumber, but all Gavin can think about is the mess Nines walked in on. The drunken slurs, the broken pleas, and all the pieces of him scattered across his miserable little apartment. The bottles, the beer cans, the shoebox. 

He’s wringing his hands. Bracing for impact. Knowing that the baggage he came with was more weight than anyone was willing to carry. 

If Nines looked in the box, then he’ll have seen the ghosts of Gavin’s past and the artifacts they left behind. 

His mom’s hair clip. 

His father’s pocket knife. 

Letters from Eli, sent from his dorm in California. All wrinkled and worn from being opened and folded time and time again. 

And about a dozen Polaroid photos from another life. Faded and blotted with drunken tear stains. Each item a cement block in his shoulders. 

Gavin starts popping knuckles. “I’m.. Sorry you had to see me like that..”

“Don’t be,” Nines says. It’s charming almost. The faint gleam in his eyes, the gentle smirk gracing his lips. Standing so causal- so gorgeous- in one of his black sweaters. Hands tucked away. Weight shifted onto one leg. A vision against Gavin’s dull surroundings. Like a daydream, one he must have conjured in his loneliest hour. 

It’s why he has to drop his gaze, has to sear it into the floorboards- to look anywhere but forward. 

“And I know I might’ve said some things..” His mouth runs dry. Gavin swallows anyway. Closing his eyes. “Just.. You don’t.. You don’t have to stay..”

His voice nearly dies. His hands shake. Every fractured piece of him threatens to break completely. 

Nines ticks red. Stiffening suddenly as his hands slip out of his pockets, like he’s ready to lunge. 

“That’s.. Not what this is,” Nines tells him. An air of caution to his voice, as if treading lightly. Like he’s walking on glass. 

Gavin’s not listening, however. Nines can already see the disconnect in the way that he stands. Shoulders hunched, head bowed like a man shunned. 

It’s a white flag. A surrender. 

Gavin twists the knife in his own heart. Unable to look, unable to watch. He simply stares at the floor, tears blurring his vision. Already numb at his finger tips and it’s bleeding inwards. 

“Look, I’m giving you an out here. Just take it,” he says. His chest caves under the weight of it. Eyes hot and glassy. He hardly registers the footsteps. They’re muffled thumps in his ears, echoing off the walls in his head. 

“Gavin, I’m not going anywhere.”

Nines sounds a thousand miles away. Gavin hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even blinked. A small part of him thrashes, way deep down inside. In the dark depths of his mind. Kicking and screaming. 

But Gavin’s fucking tired. 

Tired of losing. Tired of hurting. 

“It’s okay. You can go..”

His voice is a rasp. One that strikes Nines like a cord. 

He’s never felt pain, but that single plea has completely wrecked him. 

For an android who once hated the idea of repetition, he finds himself spewing his words out over and over again. Ducking to try and look in those despondent grey eyes, to find a sign of life behind them-

Him, an android, searching for something more than a far away haze- a glimmer, a spark. Anything.  

“Gavin, I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nothing. Just the shell of a man. Nines reaches this time, tender hands on the meat of Gavin’s biceps. The human physically recoils, curling away- unsatisfactory, but Nines will take it if it means his Gavin’s in there somewhere. 

“Hey, listen to me. I’m not upset. I’m not angry-”

Gavin looks pained. As if these words were blows. Each one heavier than the last. He even whimpers, almost inaudibly: “stop.”  

Like begging for mercy. 

For Nines, it’s nearly frustrating. Gavin misunderstood him this morning, he’s built this up in his head to be something that it’s not and now he won’t listen. 

“Gavin, I’m not leaving you-”

The smaller man takes two strides back. 

“Y-You don’t mean that. You can’t,” Gavin snaps. His back hits the bar, bracing a hand on the counter’s edge. “You were here- you saw the fucking shit storm. You think you can fucking fix that?” 

Nines says nothing. Hands still raised as if he were still trying to hold the smaller man- the ghost of him at least. He lowers them steadily. 

He must remain calm. This city’s not big enough for both of them to lose their heads. So, Nines settles and responds slowly. 

“You’re not a project, Gavin. I’m not here to, ‘fix you.’”

In response, Gavin blows steam. “Then what the fuck is your deal here, what do you get out of this?” The words tear out of him, jagged and desperate. Still, Nines doesn’t blink. Doesn’t waver.

He just tilts his head, ever slightly. Knowing the answer to be simple. LED on a steady, tranquil blue. Soft like that look in his eyes and the certainty in his voice.

“You.”

Silence swallows the room, sucks it out like a vacuum. Gavin’s chest caves further, like those three letters just knocked the air out of him. His grip on the bar tightens and his knees threaten to buckle.  

It’s almost shameful how he drops that sovereign gaze, how he cowers from it. Forcing his back to Nines in some last ditch effort to find his composure. That word, the delivery of it, spoken with the kind of calm certainty that Gavin’s never known in his entire life. 

It’s put him on his fucking axis. Sent his mind into a blazing spiral. Showcasing his laundry list of fuck ups behind his eyes, every ugly reason he’s ever kept people at bay:

His shaky childhood. 

His mother’s gnashing teeth. Elijah’s cold shoulder. 

His shitty attitude. 

Hank’s rejection, and Connor’s near demise. 

They circle like vultures. Screeching. 

Dipshit. Problem child. 

No good. Second rate. 

His throat works, but no sound comes out. His chest feels too tight, like if he breathes too hard his seams will come undone. 

All while the android quietly observes. Noting the tremors, the spike. Like his heart could burst out of his chest and crash through the floor. Gavin’s turned his back like a shield- a man on the verge of breaking. 

Nines only itches to reach out and pull him in. His own fingers twitch, but he remains. His words, steady and deliberate, stretch across the space like a lifeline. 

“What I wanted to tell you,” he says, letting the silence hold for just a second. “Was that you don’t have to carry all of this weight on your own.”

Those words dig beneath the skin, daring him to believe. Gavin still claws to bury them. He swallows, trying to ground himself. Searching the countertop just to lose himself in the granite. 

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for..” He whispers. He’s got his own professions lined up on the tip of his tongue, ready to release the pressure valve on a string of confessions. All of his ugly truths: his history of malevolence towards androids- his despise for their existence, how he treated them. How he failed Connor on account of his bruised ego- pettily negligent because he can’t ever just let shit go.It has to be personal- because that’s who he is. That’s Gavin Reed. 

But Nines speaks instead. Footsteps padding closer. 

“Gavin..”

His mouth clamps, his muscles tighten. A beat hangs in the air. 

This is it. The jump before the fall. 

But it’s worse than that, because what Nines says next hits him like a wall. 

“I know about Elijah..”

Gavin cracks a piece of granite under his palm. Those words are a thunderclap against his skull. A gunshot to the chest-

And Gavin’s been shot before. It’s eerily similar. The same punched out feeling, the sear in his skin, the air forced from his lungs. He whips around, damn near snaps his neck in the process. Just to find Nines, standing there. Blue as a clear sky, like he didn’t just flay the flesh from Gavin’s bones.

“What the fuck did you just say?” His tone is dark, lethal. Daring those words to be repeated. Nines is calculating- gauging whether to push or pull. Gavin’s already showing signs of aggression. Eyes narrowed, jaw cinched. Lip curled like he’s ready to lunge.

In an attempt to diffuse, Nines moves to speak.

“I said I know about Elijah,” he says, calm as day break. Hands open at his sides to prove he’s not a threat. “I know who he is. Who he was. And what he means to you.”

Gavin stalks forward, lit ablaze. Two strides, strong enough to stomp through concrete. “Well, look who did their fucking homework.” He shoves Nines- the android hardly moves. Like he’s rooted to the floorboards. It irks the human all the more. “So much for fucking transparency.”

“Gavin, this was all knowledge learned before our relationship became physical-”

“Bullshit,” Gavin snaps. “You can’t fucking help yourself. Mr. Fuckin’ Know-It-All.”

“Gavin-”

“Cyberlife’s best and fucking brightest. What else you got, huh?” He’s pushing again. Both hands on Nines’ chest. The android inches back. It earns Gavin the flicker of yellow, a pulse in his ears but he’s otherwise an impenetrable force. 

So, in classic Reed fashion, he bares his teeth. 

And starts snapping.  

“You gonna lay my whole goddamn life out on the table?” Snarling at Nines, right under his nose. “Dead mom,” another push. “Secret brother-” walking him back, voice rising. “What- are you gonna throw Connor in my fucking face too?”

Nines ticks red. Stopping in his tracks. “I’m not here to talk about Connor,” he parries, but his tone suggests a little bite. Warning him almost. But Gavin doesn’t just cross that line, he barrels through it.

“Why not? He’s your best friend,” Gavin says, almost mockingly from where he stands, just a breath away. Shaking, voice ragged- ready to break. 

Nines, however, doesn’t move an inch. His LED remains sharp and his eyes shift from pillow soft to shrapnel.

“It’s not my responsibility to punish you for that,” he says evenly. “And I won’t. So, don’t stand there and expect me to choose between you or him- because I’d much rather rip myself apart than be faced with such an ultimatum.”

That alone snuffs out the fire- like blowing out a candle. It steals his breath, punches the air out of his lungs.  

Gavin steps back and shrivels. Silence ringing in his ears. It holds for a beat, then another. Nines remains unnerved.

“You should choose him,” Gavin mutters brokenly. Closing his eyes like he might disappear behind them, with a single tear that escapes him. “You should.. I’m not..”

Good enough.

Worth it.

The list goes on..

And just like that, Nines begins to feel the cracks in his own exterior. Heart stricken eyes watching as Gavin physically curls in on himself. His chassis vibrates with the urge to move, to reach out and pull. To tell him that he’s wrong. 

That he doesn't have to be defined by the mistakes he’s made or the ghosts of his past. That he doesn’t have to brace these storms alone anymore. 

That Nine is here, willing to be that raft that keeps him afloat. To be his anchor, his lifeline.  

Silly human, he thinks, softening around the edges. Fans whirring to a dull hum as the heat dies down- as his system fully processes the weight of Gavin’s grief. Sad, silly human. He just doesn’t understand. 

A failure on Nines’ behalf. He hasn’t done enough to prove himself. But he will. Even if it takes him a lifetime. 

He steps forward at last, closing the gap between them. Cautious, measured, as if even his shadow might spook him. Gavin doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. It’s like watching a man on the edge of a cliff, frozen in place.

Nines lifts a hand, slow and deliberate, and rests it against Gavin’s jaw. A gentle cup- no force, no demand. Just warmth. “You don’t have to look at me,” he murmurs, low and steady, “but you have to hear me. I am not leaving. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

The smaller man trembles under his touch, but doesn’t recoil this time. His lips part, as though to argue, but no sound comes out.

Nines tilts his head, softer still. “You’ve spent your life expecting abandonment. But you can’t chase me off, Gavin Reed. Not with your anger. Not with your ghosts. Not with anything.”

And for the first time all night, Gavin’s armor slips. His chin tips forward until his forehead presses against the android’s collar, a single choked breath escaping him.

“But, Eli-”

Nines allows himself to close the circle, arms steadying around him. “I couldn’t care less about Elijah Kamski,” he says that name like it’s poison. “Especially when it’s clear that he has caused you nothing but pain.”

He nuzzles further into Gavin’s hair. “You are the only thing that matters to me,” Nines quietly professes. It goes straight to his heart. Gavin melts and, pitifully, he laughs. 

“He’s kind of a dick,” he says. Still watery with tears. A few leak hotly past his eyes. 

Relief. 

Nines smiles, chin resting atop Gavin’s head. 

“Well, he’s a Reed by blood,” he teases. Gavin grins through a wave of hurt. One quickly undercut by a sharper pang  one he’s not ready to face just yet.

“I don’t wanna talk about him..” He whispers. It’s too much shit to sift through just yet. Nines pulls back, just a touch, just enough to lift Gavin’s chin with a single hand and wipe his tears. 

“We never have to- any of it. But I’m here if you need to,” he murmurs, like he understands.

Gavin rasps, aching to know. “Did.. Did you look in the box?”

“I didn’t touch it,” Nines tells him. “That is yours to share when you’re ready. Or yours to keep.”

Gavin doesn’t know how to say it yet, but he’s grateful for that. Unable to help the fact that he still teeters on the edge. Nines can feel it, the weight shifting back as though he’s preparing to close himself off. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t demand.

Instead, he lets the silence fill with his presence alone, steady and grounding. His thumb traces once, gently, across Gavin’s cheekbone before falling away. His voice lowers, quiet as a promise:

“You don’t have to believe it tonight. Just let me stay.”

And in that, there’s no pressure. No timeline. Just the unwavering patience of someone ready to weather the storm, however long it lasts.

Gavin merely blinks, with eyes like saucers. Like he can’t even believe the majesty before him. 

“Please stay. Please. I’m so fucking lonely,” it’s almost hysterical how he breaks into a tiny, breathless laugh. Like he’s still on the edge of a nervous breakdown- and Nines just shares in it. Chuckling alongside him, holding him. 

Gavin comes back up, wiping his eyes.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he warns. “And it’s gonna be gross ‘cuz I’m covered in snot.”

Charming. Nines flutters blue, elated and completely smitten. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Detective.”

And in that moment, Gavin snags him back the collar, drags him down, and seals their lips. Wet and tangled, clipping their teeth. Gavin’s full force and Nines absorbs it like a sponge. Steadying Gavin’s jaw with one broad hand, meeting their kiss as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Nothing choreographed about it, nothing practiced. Gavin even sniffles into it, claws in Nines like he’s grappling on to tethered rope. 

And Nines lets him. No judgment, no hesitation. Just quiet strength behind the press of his lips. 

Strong, steady. 

Anchored in place. 

He pulls back just a fraction, one word between them. One that just about takes Gavin to his knees.

“Perfect.”

Notes:

I could rIP THE FLOORBOARDS UP WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!

*screeching*

MY BABY BOIS. MY BAMBINOS.

MY BOT BOI AND MY SAD, SILLY HUMAN.

I'm so happy they could finally clear the air c:

I hope nothing else comes between them C:

*ominous background music*

Thanks again for reading!! <3

Chapter 22: Delicate

Notes:

Sorry for the delay! I took the tiniest little break because even trash goblins like me need to touch grass.

That being said, I'm ready to keep spiraling.

This one's long and very domestic, because I'm selfish and my writing caters to me (and the voices) <3

Enjoy <3<3

Gavin can’t help but to steal another kiss. Another wet, tear stained kiss. One searing and desperate and needy. Grappling at Nines like he may very well slip through his fingers if he dares to loosen his hold. It sets the pace, it tips the balance. Pieces falling into place, one crooked corner after the other. Encapsulating them behind four walls, shielded from the world outside. By the time November bleeds into December, they’ve carved out something fragile and precious between the two of them. Quiet evenings stitched together by small mercies, by stolen touches and unspoken promises. Gavin tucks himself into the comfort of it like it’s the only safeguard he’s ever known. 

Unanswered texts pile up like dirty laundry. Futile attempts from Tina trying to wiggle her way in, a few wellness checks from Hank. Gavin scowls at them with discontent. Part of him aching, the majority reluctant. Nines is the only notification he cares about. The only face he wants to see. 

Coming in from the cold. That same warm, quiet greeting. A flicker from his LED, faint smile and those glimmering blue eyes. Like happiness gift wrapped in a turtleneck, and Gavin’s name is addressed on the card in neat Cyberlife print.

And he melts every time. Like he’s found the sun after years of being shrouded by grey skies and long nights. Where Gavin lays his armor down and just accepts.

You’re staying, that means you’re mine now.

And

There’s no room for anyone else, you’re all I need.

Even with Nines and his quiet persistence, his little nudges here and there. Murmurs on the couch as Gavin glares at the phone again- lit up by the screen. “Tina keeps messaging you,” and, once in passing- “Connor said Hank was asking, should I relay a message?”

No. Gavin doesn’t need them. He’s cement. Nines is already tied down- his choice. Gavin gave him the out, maybe he’ll take it when the pressure starts to build. But for now, Gavin’s content. 

Even the intimacy has shifted. Still fast and feverish most nights, when they’re both worked up and searching for release- clawing, teeth clashing. Leaving the sheets a wrinkled mess. Gavin wrecked, Nines coming back from a reboot.

“They call that the little death for a reason, ya know,” Gavin said once, ever so smug from where he was pinned under Nines. Watching the words visibly process as he switched back online. Hazy, lopsided grin and all.

“I’ll gladly die a thousand more times so long as it’s with you.”

Arrow through the heart. Gavin rolled his eyes, called him a slur, and wiggled out from under him like he hadn’t just gone soft inside. But the truth sat there anyway: mushy, blushing, undone.

The two of them, entangled lumps of sweaty, sticky limbs. Sometimes laughing breathlessly. Sometimes staring at the ceiling like starstruck idiots. Fingers entwined, as if by instinct. Two souls, both longing for connection.

That’s where the sex began to change- slowing, simmering. Becoming something softer. Something Gavin had only ever seen in movies. The kind of slow burn he’d mocked and discarded because it couldn’t exist in the real world. Not for him. Not until Nines.

It became something delicate. Not every time- once or twice. An accident at first, led by raw emotion shortly after their storm in the kitchen, then again weeks later. To now, with the snow falling gently outside. Gavin’s bedroom curtains were open for once, letting the twilight in as he and Nines fell into bed like a nighttime prayer. Each coming off of a long day. Gavin working a double homicide, Nines juggling assignments with his new authority- both eager for comfort and release, for familiarity after being wedged apart all day. 

Eager kisses turned into something deeper. Drinking each other in, half undressed before Nines was literally glowing under Gavin’s touch. Each swipe of his hand over ivory synthskin reveals chassis in a ripple of blue light. Tugging his sweater- urging Nines to remove it. He does so in one clean pull. Over the head, tossed to the side. Forgotten in a puddle somewhere in the dark. Half mooned eyes, his lips parted before they snare Gavin’s once more. Firm but pillow soft. 

He pushes at the android’s belt, leather caught in the heel of his palm. Nines pulls back again and chuckles, slipping a hand under Gavin’s shirt.

“At least make this even,” he purrs. Gavin lets out a breath, short and punched out. Already reaching back for the collar, lifting unceremoniously to bare himself to the stale, drafty air of his bedroom and to Nines as well. Not missing the beat in his LED, how his ears tick ever so slightly. Raking those opal eyes down the expanse of him like he hasn’t already mapped out every inch of Gavin’s marred flesh a hundred times already.

“Gorgeous,” Nines says simply, like that doesn’t rock Gavin’s whole entire world. He flushes, red and patchy. Undetectable in the dark but visible like neon under android supervision. No snarky remark on his tongue, not this time. Gavin simply reaches. Drawing mindless patterns over Nines, from the protruding edge of his clavicle, down his chest. Parting synthskin in his wake. Nothing but a glimpse of what lies underneath. 

Gavin will never ask him to unmask completely. That’s for Nines to approach as he pleases- if he pleases. It’s all Nines anyway, even the veil. But Gavin wonders.. 

That same hand slides back up, northward bound. Taking the android’s jaw in his palm, touch still blue as a flame. Bare chassis swallows Nines’ cheek, Gavin drags his thumb over that pert bottom lip. Nines takes it between his teeth and sucks, tongue dragging along the pad. 

He’s got it all now- blood, sweat, and come.

And finally, a fingerprint.

Gavin moans and that’s where it falls apart. That’s where they unravel. Shucking their pants, grinding their hips. Nines dips down and swallows every pretty little sound that Gavin has to offer, ravaging him with nips and kisses. Affections Gavin might’ve tried to parry with dirty words or greedy palms, but succumbs this time instead. Sinks into the sheets and lets Nines unravel him one thread at a time. Hands in his hair, pressed against his thighs. Nothing but the sound of their shared breaths and the wind outside as Nines rocks into him, slowly at first, then sparking a needy pace. One that’s got Gavin clawing down his back, arching off the bed. Begging for more.

“Don’t stop- don’t fuckin’ stop,” he whimpers, already there- just a little more-

Nines can feel it. Every breath Gavin takes, every tremor that vibrates against him. There’s conviction in every thrust, devotion in his searing stare. Watching Gavin’s climax unfold as he ruts against him. Chasing the same edge, LED blinking, fans humming.

He buries his face in Gavin’s neck and groans. While Gavin spills between them, Nines pulses deep inside. Static glitching behind his eyes. Gavin locks his legs around his waist, nails like talons the way they dig into the android’s shoulder. 

“Fuck- please, baby. I need-” 

Nines peppers kisses along his throat, over the curve of his jaw. Hushing him softly.

“Shh..”

Gavin whimpers. He needs more, he needs Nines to take him- to really take him. To put that android stamina to fucking work and just-

He huffs, already writhing. Eyes closed. It’s more than that. It’s needing to feel Nines at every pin point, for proof that he exists. That he’s not just some figment of Gavin’s imagination. That he’s here and he’s real and that he’s chosen to stay-

“Settle,” Nines tells him softly, one hand pinning one of Gavin’s above his head. Weaving their fingers together. Flesh and bone delicately laced with man made fibers. Nines is still hard, still buried deep inside of him, languidly dragging his hips. In. Out. Imprinting himself with every thrust. 

No one’s ever told him to settle before. Sit down, shut the fuck up- that’s a language he understands. Words that shut him down, that stifle him. That slam the door in his face- like he’s the vacuum salesman. Never to settle, never to soothe. So when Nines says it- he folds, pliant. With his nerves bristling like live wire and his breaths labored like they’re numbered. 

And Nines just watches like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Not fragile, not broken- just his.

Gavin’s eyes flutter just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the snow outside. Reflecting city lights like tiny sparks, similar to the warmth in his chest that pinpricks tears in his eyes. Nines takes him by the chin and redirects his gaze.

“Stay with me..” He says, in a voice that’s barely even a whisper. Gavin let out a breath, rattled like his ribs were too fragile a cage to hold it. Taking Nines by the base of his skull. Their foreheads press together, Nines’ hips never falter. Not until he comes again, jaw cinched, tension bowed throughout his entire frame. Gavin grimaces, hips aching, body worn.

Still, he clings to Nines.

“Please-”

Nines laughs like radio static, still riding the high. His smile’s brighter than the specks outside. 

“You’re shaking,” he says. An understatement. Gavin’s loose leaf in the wind. He swallows, body thrumming, chest aching.

“I just need..” Harder, deeper, more. Things he can’t express in words, not without blubbering like a goddamn baby- not without losing his fucking mind.

“I know..” Nines murmurs. Dragging his thumb through the stubble Gavin’s neglected to shave at his chin. Planting balmy, sweet kisses against his lips like they weren’t chapped and raw from the turning season and the brunt of his teeth. Gavin sniffs, relinquishing his hold just to shift it. Taking Nines by the hip, hand on his ass, urging him while also grinding against him.

“C’mon then,” this time he’s sparking with a challenge. Like his eyes aren’t wet, like his voice doesn’t waver. But his body betrays him- trembling, pleading. Nines feels it all the same. He shifts, weight braced, ready to give Gavin exactly what he’s asking for: no space, no escape, nothing but proof encrypted in his software. This time he makes sure that Gavin comes again. Messy, convulsing. Tapping out against his shoulder. 

And later, when they’ve both come down, lying face to face in the quiet stillness of Gavin’s bedroom, the weeks finally start to unwind. 

Gavin’s tracing the seam on Nines’ forearm with a featherlight touch. Bumpy, uneven. His voice breaks through the silence. 

“How did you know about Elijah?” Gavin says. Low and steady in the dark. Nines ticks, unbeknownst to the human given the fact that his LED was pressed into a pillow. 

It’s the first mention of that name since it was last brought to light. One Gavin put back under lock and key like it wasn’t aired out right in front of him. Like it didn’t crack the whip and leave him bloody. 

And of course Nines didn’t press. He saw the visceral reaction it pulled out of Gavin, cracking the granite, the fear in his eyes. Like that name alone could set the room on fire. 

“I didn’t at first,” Nines says honestly. 

“You said you knew before our relationship was physical.”

“I knew you had ties to him. I wasn’t aware they were familial.”

Gavin opens his eyes. His fingers pause over the seam. “That’s not what you fuckin’ said when we were standing in my kitchen.” His voice is sharper now. More direct. Nines takes the jab with a steady face. 

“It wasn’t intentional. There’s pieces of him all around your apartment-“

“Like what?” Gavin’s growing defensive. Eyes darting, heart spiked. Nines counters with an even tone. 

“The vase. The red one. That’s custom glasswork,” he explains. “That same glass smith has worked for Kamski in the past- and the man’s notorious for keeping his circle tight.”

Gavin’s eyes become glassy again. He closes them. A solemn edge to his voice. “Yeah.. He is,” he says, hardly a whisper. Pain etched in every corner of his face. He starts stroking that seam again, like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. 

“It came with wilted flowers,” Gavin mutters. “That’s all I got from him when I was in the hospital. A fuckin’ Chloe delivered them.”

Nines softens. “And the card you keep in your wallet,” he adds, with a beat of hesitance. 

“You riflin’ through my shit?” It’s more of a nip than a bite. Gavin seems to have already accepted that some digging was involved and it sounds like he’s trying to mitigate his own temper from flaring. 

“I caught a glimpse of it in the breakroom. You were paying at the kiosk,” Nines answers, continuing to honor their pact as he remains completely transparent. 

“That first week?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve known for that long?”

“As I’ve said: I knew you had ties to him. I didn’t know he was your brother until later. And truthfully, I wasn’t going to investigate any further. It had nothing to do with our case, so I wasn’t interested,” Nines explains. The correlation simply became a footnote in Gavin’s file. Ties to Kamski: question mark. A fact that Nines didn’t bother to prioritize while working an active case, one he was willing to write off as irrelevant before he started getting attached. 

But that’s the kicker: he got attached. Gavin piqued his interest over a stupid card game and Nines was sold. Spent the whole night deep diving into his records. Scrounging social media, studying news articles. Anything he could get his hands on like a man obsessed. Not even truly deviated yet, just hyper fixated on the mystery of Gavin Reed- a man who turned out to be far more complex than Nines could have ever expected. 

But perhaps that’s just what drew him to begin with, Nines thinks fondly. Reaching deftly to stroke his thumb over Gavin’s stubbled chin. Recollecting the sparks like they happened yesterday. “And then I became interested,” he says. “I ran your name back when we were assigned. Your mother’s obituary came up.. There was a photo..”

Gavin’s eyes begin to glisten. Nines notices this, and speaks softly. 

“Facial recognition confirmed it.”

Gavin’s quiet. He remembers that photo. Eli picked it out. One of the three of them. No Curtis. Just Liz and her boys- “how people should remember her,” Elijah said. Steady at the time despite all the chaos. Handling the older sibling obligations at the ripe old age of fifteen like he hadn’t been flown in from across the states and thrown into a room with his sniveling baby brother. Answering questions, directing Gavin. Comforting him. 

Or maybe Gavin just remembers him that way, because it’s easier than thinking about how empty he looked when they were camped out on cots in the police station while caseworkers struggled to get them placed. Like someone hollowed him out and left him a shell. 

“You found her,” Nines says quietly. Stating a simple fact, he couldn’t possibly understand the weight that came with it. 

Gavin doesn’t really feel anything when he speaks. Not even the tear that slides over the scar on his nose. “She was still warm,” he whispers. Something that strikes Nines with an unfamiliar ache in his chest and the urge to reach out- he doesn’t. Not while Gavin’s feeling brave enough to open up, not when it’s clear that this wound is bone deep and festering. With an underlying sense of guilt, as if Gavin blames his younger self for not acting sooner. 

But he’s a homicide detective. Gavin knows how long a body retains heat after death. She could have passed hours before he found her. He may not have known that when he was twelve, but surely he can see it now. 

But that’s it. That’s all he can stomach. And that tells Nines everything that he needs to know. 

That Gavin’s never spoken about it, that even twenty six years later, he’s still grieving.

Gavin closes his eyes and clears his throat, like hitting the reset button. 

“Anyway, Elijah sucks and I don’t wanna talk about him anymore,” he says quickly. Tugging the blankets up over his shoulder with a small squirm. He’s cold, but he’s also raising a shield, so Nines won’t press. 

But he will reinforce. He slides closer, slips a hand under the covers and wraps around Gavin’s waist to pull him in. The human melts against him with a contented little sigh. 

“Do that thing where you get really warm,” he mutters. Nuzzling further. Nines smiles. It’s a function intended for soothing shock victims, as if anyone is supposed to feel safe hugging Cyberlife’s most lethal weapon when they’re already traumatized. A function Nines now reserves for Gavin when his head’s too loud or when he’s simply searching for warmth. 

Nines clocks his steadying heart rate, the way Gavin’s frame slowly eases against him- thinking his human may actually get some decent sleep tonight and dims the lights until they’re blanketed by darkness. With only the glow of the city outside of Gavin’s bedroom window to fill in the void. Allowing just a faint pout line of their silhouettes to be seen. 

Nines brushes Gavin’s hair back. Fans humming beneath his ear. 

That’s when they stop. Cut off abruptly. Gavin lifts his head. Nines turns his, eyes closed, revealing a yellow LED. 

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, Gavin knows before Nines even says anything. 

“I’m needed.”

And just like that, the lights are back on and Gavin’s pouting. Already clinging to the warmth left behind as Nines slides out of bed. 

“Seriously? What about Sgt. Fuck Face, huh? Where the hell’s he at in all this?”

“Gavin.”

The human snags his pack of smokes off the night stand, plucks one from the box and tucks it between his lips. “I’m just sayin’. Third night in a row he’s sent you to babysit a bunch of fuckin’ PO’s-”

There’s a shuffle of fabric as Nines quickly dresses. Gavin gazes lingers as he watches the android squeeze himself back into his compression shorts. 

“It’s only temporary,” Nines tells him. The elastic snaps around his waist and he grabs his pants from the edge of the bed. 

Gavin blinks, running a hand under the pillows, over the sheets- searching. “Yeah, well.. Motherfucker’s gettin’ a little too comfortable with his fat ass in the captain’s chair.” Gavin grumbles, then stops. “Where the fuck is my lighter?”

Nines leans over the bed- shirtless- and plucks that cigarette from Gavin’s lips. “Some place you’ll never find,” he teases. Gavin shoots him a hard scowl. 

“You dick- I told you to stop tossin’ my fuckin’ lighters- I paid for those.”

Nines settles on the mattress, weight braced on one knee and a single palm. Waving that cigarette under Gavin’s nose just to taunt him with it. “Then perhaps you’ll stop wasting your money on bad habits.”

Gavin narrows his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He’s still bare, up in a sitting position with the covers pooled around his hips. Nines longingly rakes his eyes over him for just a beat, like they weren’t just entangled for hours, and sighs. Like he still had plans.

“Unfortunately.” He pulls away, tossing that cig onto the nightstand where he leaves it forgotten, then strides across the room to the open closet where he plucks a long sleeve from one of the designated hangers he had. A couple sweaters, a few collared button downs. Evidence of his extended visit. 

“You know, you can still tell him to shove it,” Gavin says. The android slips the shirt over his shoulders. Gavin admires how his muscles move beneath his skin, backlit in the lamplight and practically glowing before he’s shielded by dark fabric.

Nines sighs. “That would be nice.”

“I’d at least report that shit back to Blaine,” Gavin continues. “No way he’d want you runnin’ back and forth like some unpaid intern-”

“He’s resting,” Nines says firmly, working the buttons with inhuman dexterity. That’s a line. Gavin knows better. Still, he can’t help but deflate a little bit. Nines isn’t defenseless by any means. He’s putting up with this because he respects the captain too much to push back- that if it wasn’t Blaine’s name on the line, Nines would have already told Duran where to shove it.

But he won’t. He’s convinced this is just a temporary thing, like it won’t bleed over if he decides to become a permanent figure on the force.

And Gavin can’t argue with him because arguing drives a wedge and wedges cause separation. So he just grumps instead, but the thought still needles him- because he’s seen this shit before. Duran isn’t just filling a chair; he’s testing limits, seeing how far he can push Nines before something gives. And if Nines does take up a permanent post, what’s to stop Duran from grinding that edge until it cuts?

The android turns, shirt tucked and belted. Crisp, clean, and precise as he adjusts his cuffs and smooths down his collar. Like he’s just stepped out of a Cyberlife catalogue. Meanwhile, Gavin’s just staring at him, hair a mess. Soft and pliant, yearning for him to come back to bed.

But no. Duty calls. He rubs his face.

“‘Least take my car,” Gavin mutters. Nines flickers.

“You’re on call,” he says. Gavin scoffs, sliding his phone out from under his pillow and tossing it onto the bed down beside him as if to emphasize his next statement.

“I’m in the middle of a case- nobody’s gonna fuckin’ call me,” he argues. Still, Nines seems reluctant. Studying the smaller man pensively. 

“Seriously, just take my car,” Gavin tells him, motioning to the window. “It’s fuckin’ snowing out there.”

Blue eyes flash in that very direction, noting the fat flakes outside and the water stains they leave on the glass. Sensors already crawling with the thought of being damp- head swimming with the irrational fear that he may never feel dry again. Willing his LED still, but unable to stop his fingers from twitching.

“If you insist,” Nines says finally. Like breaking a spell. Gavin flops back down against the covers, already on his phone again. Mindlessly scrolling.

“Damn right, I insist,” he mutters. “Need’a winterize that damn thing anyway.” He’s referring to the bike. Checking his news feed like it’s the morning paper. Not missing the footsteps that come padding over as Nines strolls across the hardwood once more. 

The bed dips where Nines sits, a tiny smile on his lips. “I’ll be late. You should try and get some rest while I’m gone.”

Gavin only hums uncommittedly. Nines didn’t need to tell him that he sleep schedule’s been fucked lately, Gavin could feel it in his bones. His fatigue heavy and sitting just below the surface. 

But he’s been restless lately. Plagued by an inbox of unread messages, swamped at work- haunted by his visit with Elijah and still unsettled by the mention of him, even in the safety of his own home. 

“Gavin.”

Grey eyes flash from behind a screen. “You know what might help me sleep?” He simpers. “A fuckin’ smoke.”

Nines ticks his ears. Face flat. Gavin smirks.

“What, were you comin’ to kiss me goodbye?”

“I was,” Nines teases. Then checks his cuticles like he’s got better shit to do. As if he’d find a flaw. 

Gavin drops his phone, lifts up and takes Nines by the face. Pulling him down. Both hands on his jaw, fingers in his hair. Sealing their lips in a heated kiss. One that’s sure to linger long after they part. That pleads: don’t be gone all night, come back, be here- without the sap of having to verbally admit that he’s already feeling the ache of Nines’ absence. That he’s not going to sleep restfully, if he manages to sleep at all. 

He’s already cold by the time Nines pulls away. Skin raised with prickling gooseflesh- the product of his drafty apartment. Nines has already made a reminder to check the furnace again, despite Gavin swatting him away from it earlier this week. Fluttering yellow at his temple, wishing he could stay. To keep the bed warm- to keep Gavin warm- 

But he can’t. Instead, he presses Gavin back down against the pillows with a gentle hand on his bare chest. A subtle skip in his heart detected against his palm and doleful eyes staring back at him as if calculating how to drag this out even further. 

“Sleep,” he says. Voice low. Gavin just huffs. Turning like a brat and taking the covers with him.

“Whatever. Don’t wreck my car,” he mumbles. Curled up on his side, sulking in a tiny ball. He’s not even tired- he’s fitful. With a gaping hole in his chest like Nines is shipping off to fucking war-

And the weight of him is gone too soon, only cementing the fact that he’s being pulled away again- after Gavin’s become so used to his presence. Already walking a tight line at that, but he’s trying. He’s trying to accept that this might be long term. Even toying with the idea of spending Christmas together and maybe even New Years-

And fuck, it’s been so long since Gavin’s actually spent Christmas or New Years with anyone, outside of holiday parties at the precinct or blacking out at the bars, that he’s almost afraid to broach the subject.

But he wants it. And he can see it, for the first fucking time in a long time, he can actually see it. So he calmly reminds himself that Nines is still here even when he’s gone, that they’re both grown men with fucking responsibilities, and just because he’s called away doesn’t mean he’s never coming back.

Nines pauses at the door, loosely holding the handle like he’s hesitant to leave. Gavin’s a stiff lump under a pile of blankets, a prisoner in his own mind. The android considers this, cycling blue to yellow and back to blue.

He’ll make this up to Gavin. Properly this time. 

He makes another note: inquire with Janice about human festivities. 

Subtext: romantic.

With that, Nines opens the door. A little trill follows, his eyes hit the floor and he smiles. 

In comes Edith. Trotting with pretty paws towards the bed. Like she’s relieving him of his duties. 

He stays just long enough to watch her hop up on the bed, then turns on a heel. Wirelessly dimming the lights so Gavin can rest- knowing he probably won’t.

But at least this way he’ll be comfortable. 

 

---

 

By the following morning, the warmth of that quiet room has faded, replaced by a lingering ache in his processor every time he replays Gavin’s restless night. The man had woken grumpy, heavy eyed, and guarded as ever, and Nines knew then he couldn’t wait any longer. If he wanted to help, he needed advice from someone who understood these human customs better than he ever could.

Normally he wouldn’t trouble Janice with something so trivial. She was busy enough, especially with the captain sidelined. But Connor was out of the question after his recent clash with Hank, and there was no one else Nines trusted.

So he found himself at one of the busier clinics in Detroit. The building was newer, modern. Updated with all the technological advances of automatic doors and holographic signs. Nines adjusts his tie and steps in from the cold. The shape of his is a sleek black cut out against the alabaster tiles. Clicking with each measured step towards the front desk. 

Two young receptionists are giggling over something, but they stop and stare at him. Wide eyed like he yanked the floor out from under them. 

Nines remains unmoved. This sort of reaction to his abrupt appearance is not uncommon. He just stands, hands folded neatly behind his back. 

“I’m here to see Dr. Blaine,” he says, in a tone he thinks is calm and casual but comes out flat and unsettlingly. 

The curly red haired nurse blinks up at him like she forgot how to speak English. 

“Did.. Did you have an appointment?”

The other nurse chimes in. “Nines?” She presumes. He shifts his gaze and nods once. He’s seen her before, she must remember him as well. 

“Correct.”

“She’s in her office. You can go ahead back.”

He speaks clearly. Another nod, more of a bow this time. “Thank you.” 

Then steps away. 

It’s not until he’s past the desk that he hears their giggling resume. Catching the red head’s sharp, distinct laughter. 

“He’s so hot-“

“He’s an android.”

“So?”

And, well, that’s new. 

Nines smooths his shirt out this time. Taking brisk steps as he turns down a narrow hall. He’s not oblivious. All androids are bestowed the gift of vanity, Nines just never cared. His appearance is an illusion anyway. A mirage designed to make humans more comfortable. His face in particular isn’t even unique. Just a, “perfected,” version of Connor’s. He avoids it out of indifference. 

Though he catches a glimpse of himself as he passes the reflection of a tall window. Or, more so, he allows it. Recollecting every comment Gavin’s ever made about his appearance, every time he’s been caught staring too long and how certain actions make his eyes light up and darken all in one breath. Bending, posturing, or, “standing menacingly,” he once said. All things that spark the human’s heart rate and dilate his pupils like he just popped a handful of narcotics. 

Okay, maybe the nurses were onto something. Maybe Gavin’s onto something. 

Maybe he’s not just Connor’s face on a taller frame. Maybe there’s some merit in letting himself be seen the way Gavin sees him. 

Nines flickers humorously. Admiring his own side profile, thinking Gavin would’ve clawed their eyes out if he were here. 

And that makes Nines smile inside. 

He faces forward with that and locates Dr. Blaine's office easily, then knocks on her door with a polite pattern of taps. No need for the police wrap he’s programmed to demonstrate. He’s not here on business anyway. Just a polite conversation. Inquiry. 

He detects a shuffle and steps back. The door swings open and Janice beams at him. 

She’s been anticipating this. 

Of course, he texted her this time. It’s one thing to show up at the house unannounced. He would never be so inconsiderate at her place of work. 

“There you are! Come in, come in. Have a seat,” she ushers. All bright eyed in her lab coat, one that fits her like a glove and vibrant magenta scrubs. The sharp tang of antiseptic is softened by her lingering perfume. Lavender notes she carries wherever she goes, that Nines appreciates. He further scans, over her head- she’s already breezing back in the room. Certain things jumping out across his optical lenses. The impressive display credentials on the wall, the knitted blanket over one of the armchairs and a small pillow on the other. Personal touches. Jewel tones, her signature. 

He steps into the room, letting the door shut behind him. Meanwhile, Janice slides back into her swivel chair, already sweeping up a pile of loose papers and compiling them neatly. 

“Excuse the mess. Flu season has made this place a war zone,” she says. Nines pauses hesitantly. 

“If this is a bad time..”

Janice stops and stares at him like he just grew a second head, then waves him down. “Nonsense. Sit,” she tells him. Dismissing that stack and tossing her phone in a drawer. Otherwise lit up by her desktop monitor. Like she’s not already glowing. 

Nines steps smoothly in front of the armchair closest to her, another pause begets him as his eyes skim across her desk. The surface top is neatly cluttered with knick knacks and picture frames. Faces he recognizes- her and the captain of course, one of her nephew who lives upstate, and a few group photos of the hospital staff. He catalogs everything. Stores it away in a file labeled under her name, not missing the mini print out of his precinct photo ID- one required when he was still shadowing under Blaine, before he went freelance. Stoic. Dead behind the eyes. 

Still a machine. 

His temple flutters but doesn’t change. Carefully, he finds and plucks that familiar stress ball from her desk and finally sits. Giving it a gentle squeeze, letting it release. Janice settles into her chair with a smile. Legs crossed, hands tucked in her lap. Waiting patiently.

“How’s the captain?” Nines begins. Flat, even. Rotating that ball in a mindless manner. 

“Restless. Driving me insane,” Janice teases. Nines smiles ever faintly, flashing his eyes. 

“Seems to be a running theme with that man,” he says. That’s when he gets a ping, a notification that pops behind his ocular lenses in digital format.

Speaking of restless and impatient.

// comin home with bruises later and beFOR u get mad //

Another ping, as expected. Gavin can’t resist spamming when he’s worked up.

// he ran i pursued //

Punctuated with one of his more commonly used emojis; a smug purple devil.

Nines slowly crushes the stress ball. Janice tilts her head, curious, but doesn’t pry. 

How impetuous. Nines only responds once to keep Gavin at ease, knowing silence will send him into a spiral.

:: You’re impossible ::

All while Janice simply lounges back, studying him with quiet delight before she finally speaks.

“So, what can I do for you, Officer?” Her tone is playful, but it cuts to the chase. She knows he wouldn’t come to her practice for a casual visit like he would at the house. With Nines, there’s always a purpose.

He recenters himself. Rolls the stress ball between his palms, softer this time. “I came to inquire about human festivities,” he begins, flat and factual.

Janice blinks once. Twice. Brows climbing as she tips her head. “You mean.. For the holiday?”

“Precisely.”

She just stares for a beat, letting it sink in before a smile overtakes her face. “Sorry, you’ve just never shown any interest in Christmas.”

For a flicker, Nines considers calling up the troves of data in his archives: Saturnalia, Victorian carolers, the commercialization in 19th-century America. All useless. Deleted from the stack. He settles on the truth.

“I’m not so much interested in the holiday itself. More so the.. Customs.”

“The festivities,” Janice parrots softly, almost giddy now. Her whole expression warms, as though he’s just handed her the moon.

“Yes,” Nines replies.

Janice considers this with a soft sigh. “Well, Richard and I usually go downtown. You know how I love to window shop, and the city puts up these gorgeous light displays- you might actually enjoy that.”

“Light displays..”

“Yes. Christmas lights. They’re just stunning. And they bounce off the riverfront.”

Riverfront.

Gavin enjoyed the riverfront when they stopped on the motorbike.

“And.. Would this be considered.. Romantic?”

Janice softens knowingly. Her voice dips lower, like she’s sharing a secret. “Yes, Niles. It can be very romantic.”

His LED cycles thoughtfully. Nines sinks into his chair, crossing one long leg over the other. Straightens his tie even though it doesn’t need straightening.

“Interesting.”

She’s staring now. Like she might burst.

“Was that.. Your intention?”

And now she’s smug. He figures if he possessed the ability he’d be about ten shades of red by now.

The ball stills in his grasp. Nines ticks his ears, flickers his gaze toward the door, then rolls the ball once more- fighting the urge to squeeze until it pops.

“Perhaps,” he mumbles.

“Well, then might I suggest a little prelude before you look at the lights?”

Nines stops. Ears tense with intrigue. Janice continues.

“There’s a cafe on the corner of Woodford Avenue-”

He’s listening, still staring at the ball.

Cafe. Woodford Avenue.

“Richard and I go there all the time. They serve the best hot chocolate.” She puts a hand to her chest. “I always get extra marshmallows-”

Hot chocolate: to keep Gavin warm. Extra marshmallows: optional.

“If your guy likes sweets, he’ll love it. Maybe he’s been there. I wouldn’t know- I haven’t met him yet.”

That last part is a dig, but Nines confirms in his database. He’s seen Gavin tear into a chocolate bar before- only once, like some ravenous squirrel. Surely he enjoys it in liquid form as well.

Still, he flickers yellow. Acknowledges her final statement with another squeeze.

Operation: Introduce Gavin has been pending for quite some time. Even the subject of it has yet to be discussed given the man’s recent reclusion. Nines is doing well enough to get him to answer the phone when people text him, but he refuses to budge.

“I’m working on it,” he tells her. With a solemn edge, knowing Gavin’s in a place right now that he’s content to lie in. Something that must be treated delicately. 

“Honey, I’m just curious. There’s no need to rush,” Janice soothes. Then her eyes sparkle, lips tipping into that teasing smile again. “But I think it’s very sweet that you’re planning something special. You must really care about him.”

She pauses, smugness seeping through.

“This is the same man that was in your bed, right-?”

“Yes,” Nines says, sharper than he intended. The word cuts clean. Janice lifts both palms in mock surrender, grinning.

“Just asking. I don’t know what you get up to in your free time.”

More teasing. He rolls the ball again. “Gavin is just..”

The man pings again. Like his ears are burning. 

// imposibly GOOD at my job //

With three kissy face emojis. The corner of Nines’ mouth betrays the urge to lift, but he forces it flat. His jaw tightens. The stress ball compresses in his palm as though it might absorb the heat rising in his chest. His LED betrays him anyway- blue, yellow, blue, a pulse he pointedly ignores.

Janice notices. Of course she does. She always does. But instead of needling him further, her expression softens into quiet understanding. Decades spent watching her husband’s carefully guarded tells have made her fluent in reading men who give themselves away without realizing 

“Prickly.. And stubborn,” Nines says finally, voice smoothing into something quieter, fonder. He tosses the ball up once, catches it cleanly. “We understand each other.”

“Well,” Janice shifts her gaze as the monitor lights up, likely an email, one she leans into. Checking it while still speaking thoughtfully. “You get that honest,” she says. “Blaine is a very stubborn breed.”

The statement lands. Nines stills. It sounds like a stray thought, something she hadn’t meant to lace with gravity, but it reverberates in him all the same. A weight. A warmth. Something fragile and unspoken that takes root in his chest. 

“I suppose I do..” Nines says, feather soft. But she heard him. Her fingers pause for just a moment over the keys, but it’s undeniably there. 

Just like she claimed him as undeniably hers. 

Then, she folds her hands in her lap. “Was this conversation helpful?”

“Very much so,” Nines murmurs. Poignantly gripping that stress toy like it’s a lifeline close to his face. 

“Good. I’m very honored that you came to me.”

Nines only hums. Recognition of her statement. He’s otherwise fighting a lump in his throat. 

That’s when Janice wistfully sighs. Hand on the table. “Well, honey, I’m sorry to cut our meeting short, but I’ve got a patient coming in.”

Nines is zeroed in on that ball, bouncing his ankle. “Ah, yes. Flu season,” he recalls. A dry attempt at cracking an actual joke. 

And Janice actually laughs. Hand over her chest. Smooth and melodic. 

What she says next, could easily split him in two. Tucking a short strand of hair behind her ear, umber eyes glinting with a warm mix of pride and admiration that only she seems to carry.

“You are the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Crack. Sputter. Reboot. Nines freezes in his chair, ankle stilled mid-bounce, LED pulsing yellow like it’s stammering on his behalf.

And kick him while he’s down, Janice continues. 

“And I’m very proud of you.”

He’s at a loss- sifting through the vast nothingness of his social programming for a suitable response, but no string of words is worthy enough. He just looks at her, really looks at her, not as someone who took pity on a stray, but as.. 

Family?

His gaze snags on the photo propped at the corner of her desk with “Niles” scrawled beneath it in her pretty cursive. A machine framed and named like a son.

Something fragile and unspoken takes root in his chest.

Slowly, he rises. The stress ball rests in his palm, his thumb grazing the fabric like a final thought before he sets it back neatly in its place. Not discarded, but returned with care- like he owes it respect now that it’s held his confession.

“Well..  There would be no me if it wasn’t for you,” he says in a heartfelt murmur. 

Janice just simply melts.

Nines returns his hands behind his back. “Thank you, Janice.. Give the captain my best,” he says quietly, taking his leave.

“I sure will, sweetheart,” she smiles. Watching him go, calling behind him. “Good luck! Let me know how it goes!”

Nines leaves her office with lavender still clinging to his senses, with words logged in his system that refuse to dim. The most amazing thing that’s ever happened to us.

He replays it once. Twice. Caches it like a precious artifact. A reminder that when the world insists he’s a weapon, there are those who see something else entirely.

The winter air greets him cold and sharp, but it doesn’t bite. He’s already warm inside, carrying that fragile spark Janice pressed into his chest- buzzing, steady, unshakable.

Something worth bringing home.

 

---

 

His good mood is quickly soured the moment Gavin walks in the door, or more so hobbles. With a bag of goodies from the 7/11 like a reward for his troubles. 

Cigarettes and candy, like the child he is. 

“Oh, fuck me- please tell me I have cold beer in the fridge,” he says, coming in with a sigh like he’s utterly exhausted. Edith of course, greets him as he shuts the door. Already purring. Nines takes one look at him. Clocks the way he shuffles into the living room with a wince, how his hand shakes as he sets that bag down on the coffee table. The way he struggles to get his coat off like his mobility has been fucking compromised and the cuts and scrapes on his face. 

Nines strides across the den, scanning vitals- increased heart rate, elevated stress levels. His breath is hitched like it hurts to breathe.  

It’s his ribs, Nines is already coaxing him. 

“Let me see.”

“Hey, easy-”

Fat chance. Nines is already on him. Carefully lifting the hem of his shirt, catching enough of a glimpse to make his temple flicker furiously. 

“You said bruises. Not scrapes and contusions,” Nines snaps. Gavin scowls. Moves to speak, but is quickly undercut. 

“Were you seen by a medic?” Nines already knows the answer. There’s no sign of medical intervention on his battered skin. No gauze, no bandages, not even residue left from a fucking disinfectant wipe. 

“Uh, no,” Gavin says, sharp tongued and narrow eyed. The android pulses red. Hands twitching down at his sides. Edith is the only saving grace. Her purrs and figure eights between their feet are the only thing keeping him tethered. 

Finally, Nines breaks. Turning on a heel to fetch the first aid kit from where it’s buried in the back of the bathroom closet. 

Gavin calls after him. “Nines, I’m fine.” But he’s met only by silence. Sheepishly, Gavin drops his gaze to the floor. Even the cat’s stopped purring. She looks at him like she knows he’s in trouble. 

“I think I might be fucked,” he mutters. She sits, then blinks. He can hear Nines still shuffling around in the other room and slowly bends. Grabbing that bag, fighting a grimace. Even as his muscles scream at him for moving. 

“Leave it,” Nines says firmly. Breezing on in. Kit in hand. He practically glides to the coffee table,  placing it with mechanical precision. 

“Havin’ a smoke before you poke at me,” Gavin grumbles. Nines is not happy with this. 

“Sure. Neglect care. Breathe poison,” he mutters, popping the lid on the kit while Gavin rips the plastic off of a brand new pack of cigarettes. He shoots the android a quick little side eye. He’s already setting up a neat little work station like he’s preparing for an operation. Channeling his anger into meticulous movements: cotton pads lined up like soldiers, antiseptic uncapped, gauze measured to exact lengths.

Gavin sighs in the back of his throat. Plucking a smoke. “Nines. Fuckin’ unclench. I’m fine.” The android doesn’t blink. Just commands. 

“Sit.”

But the human stalks off to the kitchen instead. Lighting that smoke with a brand new lighter and leaving a cloud. Nines, outwardly calm, with no sudden movements, speaks in a terrifyingly still voice.

“Gavin.”

The human throws his words over his shoulder as he ambles- babying that side again. Walking like he hurts. “Grabbin’ a beer,” he quips, like he’s actively choosing to push his luck- daring Nines to snap. 

He won’t. 

Gavin comes back in, cracking a beer. Nines immediately plucks that cigarette from his lips while he’s mid pull.

“Hey-”

Then stubs it out in a dirty ash tray and takes Gavin by the arm. Gently pulling. Guiding him to a couch cushion without a push or a shove.

Edith just watches from where she loafs under the coffee table. Flicking her tail once. The jury is in session.

Smoke hangs in the air as Gavin finally plops down, faster than he meant to. He lands with a wince. Nines takes his beer next and sets it on the coffee table before Gavin’s even had the chance to take a swig. Unnervingly silent.

“It’s really not that bad,” Gavin mutters, but Nines can see the twitches and tremors. Lifting Gavin’s shirt- noticing the frays in the fabric from where he likely skid across concrete. He doesn’t say anything. Gavin, by default, just keeps rambling. 

“I just landed sideways. And the bastard fuckin’ swung-”

Nines helps him raise his arm. Clocking the grimace. It’s about halfway up before Gavin’s clenching his teeth. Leaning away. Still, Nines is careful to remove the fabric. Setting it to the side, already scanning.

There’s blue and purple splotches all over the left side of him, blossoming across his ribs, scrapes on his hips disappearing below the belt. Nines sets his jaw.

“This could have been a lot worse,” he says, low and quiet before plucking a cotton swab from the table. Saturating it with peroxide.

“Just the nature of the job, baby,” Gavin jokes. The words taste familiar. Borrowed. Nines won’t stand for it. He takes Gavin’s hand, lowering his arm again as he eyes a deep cut on his elbow that needs equal attention.

“That’s no excuse to be reckless.”

Gavin’s mouth snaps shut. Stunned into silence. Nines dabs carefully, precise and unyielding in his focus, but his voice is low and controlled.

“I understand that there’s risk in every case, but your choices affect more than just you. All I’m asking is that you consider that next time you decide to rush an assailant.”

His touch gentles further, thumb brushing past the scrape on Gavin’s elbow before wrapping it neatly in gauze. “There’s no shame in taking precautions. Or calling for backup. Your life is more important than your job.”

Gavin opens his mouth, the usual quip primed, but nothing comes out. His jaw works, teeth grit- then he shuts it. The silence feels heavier than anything he could have ever said.

“I’m sorry..” He whispers finally. 

Nines cracks the faintest smirk, a soft reprieve.

“You will be in the morning once this has time to-“

Then Gavin’s dragging one hand across his face. Drying a few tears that managed to slip. Then snags his open beer and brings it to his lips. Nines just stares at him, heart stricken.

“Shut up. Fuck you,” he says, almost tender in its weakness. A mask to hide behind. The android softens. He can’t possibly know the weight his words carry and how they’ve just moved Gavin to pieces. Like his own statement wasn't recently aimed against him by someone who was supposed to care.

But he can see the way Gavin absently traces that bullet scar after he sets his beer back down. And the faraway look as he does so.

Foolish human. Foolish, imprudent, perfect human. He has no idea what Nines is planning- that he’s already preconstructing in his head the sight of Gavin Reed bathed in glittering Christmas lights, breath steaming in the cold, cheeks flushed rosy pink. 

Nines presses a kiss to his shoulder. Once. Twice. Gavin flinches first, then relaxes. Quiet as breathing, so ordinary by now that it might be overlooked. But it’s already becoming a habit. Already a promise. 

Then he resumes his care taking. 

As if nothing has changed inside him at all. 

Notes:

crrryyyiiinnnggGGGGGG. My stupid little heart. My stupid, piece of shit little heart.

I didn’t mean to make this a holiday fic, but like, somehow I’m always setting my stories in winter time xD

Oh well, it’ll be cute to reread this when those holidays come around- for those who celebrate them that is. Otherwise. Winter.

I'm also domesticating the RK900 and I'm not sorry. He's my baby boi. My bamBINO.

And Gavin's going back through the emotional wringer. I will not cease until he hath been wrung.

Thanks always for reading!!

Chapter 23: Pinkies

Notes:

Ya'll. This one might leave cavities.

I got so carried away that my fingers slipped and this is another 9k chapter xD

Listen, I also didn't mean to write out every bit of this date, but I just be typin sometimes.

I apologize for nothing. And I'm already sketching out a couple scenes from this chapter- from the whole story actually, so if you'd like to see that, please let me know! I've been meaning to contribute some DBH art to the fandom ^-^

As always, pls enjoy!!

Gavin’s still littered in fading bruises by the time the weekend rolls around, but he’s no longer babying them as he had been when he stumbled through the door. All that’s left is a painting on his side of yellow-green splotches and sparse little scabs. The kind of marks that itch more than they ache. The kind that Nines still glares at like they’ve offended what’s his. Thinking he’d erase them if he could. Pull the damage right off Gavin’s skin and leave him unblemished. 

But instead, he settles for small acts of defiance against the universe: carrying his coat when he pretends he doesn’t need the help, pouring his coffee when he oversleeps, helping him into bed when the motion makes him wince.

And somehow, Gavin lets him. Bruises and all.

So when Saturday comes, and Gavin’s much more springy, Nines decides he’s done tolerating four walls and battered silence. Thinking it was about time he showed Gavin something brighter, something that might take his mind off the hurt and whatever else is plaguing him these days. 

He waits for Gavin to hop in the shower, his morning routine delayed on account of sleeping past noon. Something Nines allowed because, while it’s impractical, he respected any sleep Gavin managed to get. Especially with how restless he’s been lately. Like he can’t relax no matter how many times Nines has tried to quietly reassure him just by being consistent. Like he keeps expecting the walls to collapse and the floor to cave and swallow him whole.

Perhaps it’s his neglected inbox, or the looming dread of something bigger. Fallout with Elijah? Nines isn’t sure. He tries not to poke, a feat easier said than done. The bruises he can see heal easy; the ones under Gavin’s skin are harder to read. A hard pill to swallow for someone who’s designed to find conflict resolution in every case. Here he has to simply trust that Gavin might eventually let him in, as he has before. Just a brief crack in the door, that’s all Nines needs.

He lays a shirt out on the bed, along with the rest of Gavin’s attire. It might be a little presumptuous to pick out his outfit, but Nines can’t help himself. He’s got a vision.

Besides, he wants them to coordinate. Of course, their styles already clash. With Gavin’s rugged casual and Nines’ tailored precision- but they can still look like a pair with the appropriate adjustments. Nines even broke out his red wine sweater. Mock neck, french tucked. Sleeves down this time. It’s a little lightweight, he’ll pair it with a jacket later- though the cold doesn’t affect him like it would a human. That’s why he chose layers for Gavin. A cream colored henley that’ll sit nicely under a deep green cable knit sweater that he found in the back of Gavin’s closet. Wondering why such nice, warm fabric would be neglected, but decided to bring it out. Dark jeans and thick socks. He’s sure Gavin will snag his leather jacket on the way out. The brown will pair nicely, and add a warmth to their silhouettes when they’re walking together.

That’s when the on suite bathroom door flies open. Steam curling from the threshold as Gavin steps out in nothing but a loose hanging towel around his waist. Damp and glossy. 

It’s amazing, really. He was so self conscious at first, and now he’s shameless. Strutting over to the dresser to snag a pair of boxers from the top drawer. Nines traces the curve of his spine, how it dips below the towel-

Gavin whips around. “Hey, eyes up here,” he teases. Nines flickers yellow- the android version of a blush, apparently.

“You parade yourself around and expect me not to stare?” Nines challenges. He knows better, this could escalate things. Easily.

Still, it’s fun to toy with Gavin. To see how far he lets it go before he blushes or pounces. But he must be feeling well rested. Frisky even, as he shuts that drawer and saunters over to the bed. Tossing that towel like it fucking offended him. It lands on a pillow. 

Nines wills stoicism. Summons the strength of a saint not to crack, even as Gavin steps into his boxers like it’s a performance for his eyes only. He weighs the pros and cons of letting himself give in- chiefly, the likelihood that Gavin will need a second shower if he decides to have his filthy way with him right now.

But then Gavin smirks, still damp, still flushed from the heat of the shower. Still smug in that way that dares him to act. And Nines calculates, down to the second, just how easily he could have Gavin bent over the mattress. 

For now, he banks the thought. A slow burn. Because restraint is power, and anticipation is a weapon all its own.

The waistband snaps. Gavin sniffs, glancing to the bed. Just as well, too. Nines was just about to break.

“The fuck’s all this?”

“Your attire for this evening. Get dressed,” Nines tell him. Steady, like his processors weren’t calculating all the ways he could ruin Gavin in the sheets.

The human quirks a brow, looking back at Nines. 

“My attire,” he parrots. “I’m not a fuckin’ doll.” He crosses his arms. His hair is still wet, his face is delightfully unshaven- as Nines was hoping it would be. He watches those grey eyes skim over his own frame. Connecting the dots.

“Why’re you dressed so nice? What’s happening?”

Nines pauses for a moment. Gavin is equal parts frustrating and intriguing for the sole reason that he is often unpredictable. A quality that both perturbed Nines and drew him in- mostly because he’s used to having all the answers, sometimes before he even has all the pieces. But Gavin can sometimes leave him guessing.

“I thought it’d be nice to go out,” he says simply. Calmly. Like it’s just another Saturday- because it is.

Gavin smirks, testing the waters. “You mean like a date or somethin’?”

Nines doesn’t answer right away. His eyes brighten, his temple flickers a soft blue- confirmation without a word.

Gavin stares, heartbeat skipping. Then it hits him all at once, knocking the wind right out of him.

“Oh..” He croaks, hand dragging down his jaw. His stubble rasps against his palm. “I didn’t shave.”

Nines tilts his head, that rare fond smile playing at his mouth. “No, you didn’t.”

Gavin runs the same hand through his damp hair, suddenly aware of how unpolished he looks.

“And don’t you dare slick your hair back,” Nines adds smoothly, like he’s been planning this from the start. His tone leaves no room for argument. “I want you exactly like this.”

Gavin pouts. “Were you gonna ask me? Or were you just gonna assume that I wanted to go out with you,” he simpers. Nines could roll his eyes, but decided to humor the human instead. 

“Gavin Reed, would you like to go on a date with me?”

The smile that breaks over that handsome face, like he just won the lottery. 

“I dunno,” Gavin snags the shirt first. “I’ll have to check my busy schedule,” he teases. Throwing it over his head. Inside he’s still frazzled. He hasn’t been in a proper date in years- probably his early twenties- so his etiquette is going to be rusty as fuck. 

He grabs the socks next. Slides them on- nearly falls. 

“You sure you even wanna be seen with me out in public just yet? Where the hell are we even goin’?”

“Just a stroll downtown.” Nines waits for him to rise before he reaches. Cupping Gavin’s jaw with such a tender touch that it makes him stop and flush. “And I have no problem being seen with you.”

His heart soars. His brain deflects. Gavin pulls away to grab his jeans with a shrug. “Hey, it’s your reputation on the line.”

“I’m not concerned with what other people think about what I do in my free time. Or who I associate with.”

Gavin steps into denim, already letting that thought sink like cement. Heavy in the back of his mind. Knowing Nines is already working so hard not to sully Captain Blaine’s name at the precinct, so he should be worried about who he spends time with outside of work- because Gavin’s own reputation as an officer hasn’t earned him any medals or outstanding awards and as a person?

Voted most unlikable, unanimously. 

Gavin grumbles. He’s anxious and his pants are tight.

“You want my ass to show, don’t ya?”

Nines reaches forward and tugs the waistband. It’s got some stretch still, but not much. “The measurements are right..”

“Yeah, they’re my goin’ out pants for a reason,” Gavin says, right under the android’s nose- because anytime he’s gone out in the past it was so he could get laid.

Nines lets his gaze linger, two fingers still curled in the fabric. “They are.. Doing you plenty of favors,” he murmurs, voice low. Gavin gives him a playful shove, covering the way his pulse just spiked.

“Uh uh, nope. You’re buying me dinner first this time.” He snatches the cable knit next, muttering. “Horny bastard.”

It’s too nice for him to consider wearing on the regular. He might’ve bought it because he thought he’d be able to wear it out with friends- only to find that they were purposely excluding him from their outings and, well, he doesn’t speak to them anymore.

A sharp pang hits him square in the chest- pathetic. But Gavin breathes. He’s not going to sour his own mood when Nines already went through all the trouble of putting an outfit together for him, when he’s probably got the whole night written out in a neat little itinerary in his head. 

He throws the sweater on, begrudgingly. The only saving grace is the fact that Nines smiles like Gavin’s been tied together with a bow and handed to him in a giftbag.

“Perfect,” he says. Gavin sends him a look. A tiny scowl- a slur on the tip of his tongue.

One that starts with the letter, “F.”

He bites it back. He would’ve said it any other time, but not tonight. Instead, his scowl slips into a smirk.

“Just wait ‘til I’m finished,” he grins, mustering all the faux confidence in the world before he spins on a heel and heads for the bathroom. His own sort of checklist in his head. Brush teeth. Cologne. Try not to panic. In no particular order. His thoughts are already racing.

This is happening.

This is really happening.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Nines tells him. 

Gavin catches it over his shoulder, and threatens to melt.

 

---

 

By the time Gavin reemerges- hair soft and pliant, boots laced, and a cedar scent following him into the den- Nines is waiting. Jacket on, Gavin’s folded neatly over one arm, petting Edith from where she sits atop the coffee table. Her purrs are evident. Gavin spares her a quick pet as well, and takes his jacket from Nines. 

“You my valet now?” He snorts, but throws it on anyway. Finding comfort in the weight of it, their shoulders brushing as they squeeze out into the hall.

The elevator hums them down. The city greets them with a bite of cold, sharper than expected, Gavin’s breath blooms white under the street lamps. They walk in step, brown leather brushing black bomber, red against green. Complimentary. Festive. Like they’d planned it all along.

By the time they reach the corner, golden light spills from the cafe Janice had mentioned, fogging its windows in soft squares. A pocket of warmth against the cold. Nines doesn’t hesitate, just ushers Gavin inside without so much as a warning. As if Gavin’s stubborn weight means nothing against machine efficiency.

“Hey, what’re you-”

A confectious swirl of coffee and sugar hits him like a wall. Gavin blinks, Nines holds him steady. One hand on the small of his back as he surveys the establishment. Bustling with patrons lining the booths, muttering in quiet conversation and holiday music playing softly over the speakers. 

“You enjoy hot chocolate, don’t you, Detective?”

“Uh, do I look fuckin’ twelve?” Gavin quips. Nines’ face falls flat and unimpressed. His temple flips like a switch. Blue to yellow. Gavin realizes suddenly that this was part of the night Nines had planned, and guilt settles like he just kicked a puppy.

“But I could.. Go for a coffee..” He mumbles. 

Nines smiles, back to blue. “Wonderful.” Then nudges him towards the counter.

The menu is a blackboard with items scribbled in colorful chalk and festive ribbon laced around the border. Some college student is manning the register, wearing an elf hat to match her green apron and peppermint earrings to celebrate the season. Otherwise looking a little dead behind the eyes like she’d rather be anywhere else, but she perks right up when they approach. 

Gavin, being the scrooge that he is, orders a single black coffee and then-

He finds the donuts behind the glass, and gets a single glazed.

Nines logs this as a preference. Pleased to see Gavin indulging a little bit. He sometimes forgets to feed himself, so Nines never bothers pestering him about what he’s eating so long as he’s eating something.

“Will that be all?” The barista’s voice is sweet but practiced. Gavin’s already reaching for his wallet.

“Yeah, that’s it-”

Nines steps forward. Hands clasped behind his back. “Unnecessary. I’ll be paying,” he says. Gavin looks him up and down sharply.

“The fuck you are, you don’t even eat.”

“You’re my date. It’s my treat,” Nines calmly responds, like he read the yellow pages on dating prior to this. The barista just looks between them, finger hovering over the register. Her ruby painted lips turn up in a small smile.

Gavin flips open his wallet. “Nines, you’re not-”

“You guys are so cute,” the barista chirps. Nines tilts his head curious, and Gavin shifts that scowl to the young woman across the counter. He’s halfway into the sleeve of his wallet. Nines takes this opportunity to nod at the register and pay wirelessly. Smug like he’s flexing some kind of a superpower. The barista smiles even brighter, directed towards the android.

“Got it, thank you,” she says, more genuine this time. Gavin throws cash out on the counter anyway.

“Yeah well, here’s a tip,” he mutters. Taking his coffee and his donut with a final side eye thrown at Nines as they leave the register. The barista sends them off with, “happy holidays!” To which Gavin responds with a grumpy, “merry fuckin’ Christmas,” over his shoulder. Mumbling something about PC bullshit under his breath as he finds a window booth. 

He plops down, Nines slides in smoothly.

“Cute?” Gavin says. Ripping a napkin from the silver dispenser at the end of the table.

Nines studies the frost on the glass before his gaze shifts. “Is that what’s got you so disgruntled?” He chides.

“No,” Gavin grumps. “You ever pay for me again, and I’ll cause a scene,” he tells the android, but the glimmer in his eyes suggests that there’s humor buried beneath his pride. 

Nine only grins. “I’ll take my chances.” 

And then Gavin giggles- giggles- like he wasn’t only just seconds from combusting because someone called him cute.

“This is probably the most stereotypical cop thing that I do,” he says, referring to the coffee/donut duo laid out in front of him, then shrugs. “Well, other than using my police lights to cut through traffic,” he adds with a dastardly grin. 

“That’s a misuse of public resources,” Nines replies. Watching Gavin pop that lid off his cup- interesting- then breaks his donut in half. 

“Yeah,” he dips one half into his coffee, bobs it once. Twice. Then flashes those eyes with glittering mischief. “But it’s fun.”

He pulls that piece up, dripping with coffee, and takes a bite. His face softens around the sweetness, a low hum slipping past his lips. He licks sugar from his thumb absently, like it’s second nature.

Nines tracks every motion. The dunk, the hum, the way Gavin’s tongue swipes his skin. He logs the sequence as: coffee and donuts- preference. But it’s more than data. It’s a ritual, something distinctly human that Nines can’t replicate, and he finds himself oddly content to just.. Watch.

Gavin hums again, inspecting his half eaten chunk of donut. “Pretty good. You just google coffee shops in the area or something?”

Nines only shrugs, one arm resting over the table, the other sitting neatly in his lap. Fondly he thinks of Janice. 

“Kind of a bummer that you’ll never experience good coffee and a donut,” Gavin says softly. Stirring his coffee again. 

“I can enjoy the aroma,” Nines responds casually. Gavin looks at him curiously.

“Really?”

“Yes, I have millions of olfactory sensors. Intended for drug search and, more morbidly, to detect a body.”

Gavin makes a face, like part of that mildly disturbs him. “Isn’t that like.. Overwhelming?” He asks. 

Nines shifts. “It’s no different than a bloodhound,” he answers honestly. Though he’d never say it’s ever been overwhelming. Like all functions he possessed, he can turn it off. Something that greatly helped him when he was still wandering the streets. Surrounded by mold and decay in whatever abandoned house or shack he wandered into. Though he was strictly prioritizing programs back then, saving his power or simply idling.

Now, he leaves it running. Dialed down twenty percent unless he’s actively investigating a crime scene. Some things are worth smelling. Like the leather and smoke that clings to Gavin. Or his shampoo that sits at the crown of his head. Even smaller things like freshly cut grass or dying leaves. 

“That unique to your model?” Gavin presses. Which is intriguing because Gavin never really inquires about android specific things.

“Yes,” Nines says quietly. It’s unique to him. He’s one of a kind. Sure, Connor’s almost as advanced and can smell, as far as he’s aware, but his senses are not nearly as heightened. 

Gavin swirls another piece of that donut. Steam rises from it as he pulls it back out. “Damn, note to self: my dab pen is not safe from you.”

The android flickers. “Found, but not confiscated. Though, really, your sock drawer is not an appropriate hiding spot.”

“I haven’t actually hit that thing in a while,” Gavin chuckles. “Makes me spacey.” 

He takes another bite. Nines watches, cataloguing. 

“What made you turn to police work?” He asks suddenly. Part of him has always wondered. Gavin’s twisted morals don’t exactly align with what the law enforces and he’s been known to push the boundaries and abuse his power as an officer. 

This earns him another thoughtful hum and a head nod. Then Gavin swallows. Glinting with amusement. “I got arrested.”

Nines perks up in surprise. “You have no records of being incarcerated.” He’d know, he’s seen everything. He even reruns the files in case he missed it.

“Nah, the charges were dropped,” Gavin says. He sucks his teeth, wiping his hands on a napkin. “There was this whole.. Pandemic thing goin’ on when I aged outta the group home.” He swallows, discarding the napkin in a wrinkled ball and reaching for his coffee. “Face masks were required everywhere- well, I didn’t have one. Hell, all I had was.. I think.. Twenty bucks to my name and a fuckin’ referral sheet for an automotive plant? But I couldn’t afford the bus fare, so..”

Nines’ fingers flex against the table, smoothing back out as Gavin keeps talking, but his posture sharpens.

It’s not that he didn’t have access to money. Elijah wired him a four digit number- something to make up for the fact that he bailed- again- when Gavin was counting on him to be there. So, he didn’t touch the money out of spite alone, thinking he could get along just fine on his own.

“Anyway, I was at a gas station, spendin’ that last twenty on a pack of smokes and sour candy when the guy at the register fuckin’ refused me service for not wearin’ a stupid mask- you think I’m a problem now? You should’a seen me fresh out the system. I was a hair trigger, and this guy paid the fuckin’ price for that.” Gavin sips his coffee, as if pausing for dramatic effect. Nines leans forward slightly, every word logged. His gaze doesn’t waver.

The human clears his throat. Mischief sparking in his eyes. “I dropped my bags, hopped the counter and hit him with a right hook. Broke the fucker’s nose. And right about that time, two officers walked in and I was detained on the spot.”

Nines blinks, not the least bit surprised and totally engrossed.

“They threw me in holding. I remember thinking..” Gavin continues. He pauses. A poignant look on his face. It had been bus station benches and shady homeless shelters before then. Something he doesn’t voice but remembers. “Uh.. That at least I’d have a bed..”

The android’s LED stutters yellow again. His chest rises with an unnecessary intake of air, like his system can’t process the weight of that thought in silence.

Gavin tenses, then clears his throat. “But, I guess the cashier felt sorry for me- which was worse. He dropped the charges. Some PO gave me a lecture. I dunno. I grabbed a brochure for the academy on the way out.”

Nines doesn’t move for a moment. His gaze is steady, unwavering, as though committing every word to something deeper than memory. Watching the memories play behind Gavin’s eyes as he recollects them in real time.

And then he shrugs them off, like water off a duck’s back.

“So, anyway. It was either this or the streets.” He sips his coffee again. “Really sucked in the beginning though. I like, didn’t know how to be around normal people. My whole childhood was spent in fight or flight mode.”

“I understand,” Nines says, and he genuinely does.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Gavin murmurs. Curling his arms up on the table as he comes forward. Staring fondly from across the way. “Look at us. Two traumatized peas in a pod,” he muses. 

“Birds of a feather,” Nines counters. Parroting Captain Blaine, but with more heart this time. 

Gavin just smiles. Really smiles. Then nods his head towards the window. “Did you wanna.. Walk around a little bit?”

“I would love to,” Nines murmurs.

 

---

 

They fall back into the flow of the street. Gavin with his hands tucked, Nines walking close enough that their shoulders brush every so often. Strings of lights drape across the square, glowing amber and red, painting everything in holiday warmth. Both letting their eyes linger, their ears listen. Catching the bells of street vendors and murmurings amongst a modest crowd. 

Gavin shivers, not quite accustomed to the cold just yet, but it’s not uncomfortable. Still, Nines guides him in. Slowing them to a stop on a street corner. Pulling him in like a riptide. 

Gavin doesn’t even realize they’re chest to chest until he has a chance to blink, as if in disbelief. Like Nines could vanish in a quick snap. 

“You’re cold.”

“It’s fuckin’ December.”

The taller man moves to speak, disrupted by a cheerful voice that jovially beckons-

“Nines!”

The android snaps his head with a flickering temple light. Gavin steps back in the same breath. Losing warmth as he does, finding a pair of familiar faces. 

Nines smiles pleasantly. “Eights,” he says. Then his gaze shifts and his face falls flat. “Lieutenant Anderson,” he then addresses, like there’s some tension. Sure enough, the married pair approach, bundled in their winter coats. Connor’s in a navy peacoat with a chunky plaid scarf- one he likely stole from Hank’s side of the closet, while Hank is dressed in dark flannel and his traditional brown jacket. Sumo is accompanying them. Tail wagging, happy as ever. 

He takes a nose dive into Gavin, a high whine and his fat tongue out in a pant. 

“Hey, mutt,” Gavin mutters, two hands holding a large head. Connor looks between Hank and Nines like he could somehow bridge the gap between them with sheer willpower alone. 

“Nines,” Hank grumps. Connor snaps him a side glance. One that reads, “behave.”

“Walking the beast, I see,” Nines says, fondly watching Sumo. Connor lights up like Christmas. 

“We are holiday shopping,” he tells the taller android. Gavin tucks his hands into his pockets, wishing he had something to keep them occupied. Sumo’s still watching him, sitting at his feet. Big eyes, puffs of warm, moist breath against Gavin’s thigh. He does happy paws and squirms. 

“Sumo,” Hank says, giving his leash a tug. “Sorry, he likes you.”

Gavin says nothing. He keeps his head down, avoiding Connor. Slipping his hand out to give the dog another pet. Searching for comfort. 

“You look alive this time,” Hank mutters, casual but quiet as the androids play catch up. Gavin glances up, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You doin’ alright?” It’s another quiet question. A punch wrapped in velvet. Gavin nods. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says softly. Scratching Sumo behind his ears now. Like there’s not a million things he should be saying to Hank that he can’t exactly hash out here. An apology for starters, for what he said at the house and a thank you for how Hank handled him at the crime scene- because he wouldn’t have been able to stumble away from that without the older man holding his head above water. 

Words he’s choking on now while Hank just simply smiles. Glancing between him and Nines. 

“So much for being at each other’s throats,” he teases. Gavin cracks a half hanging grin. Eyes darting for half a second. Long enough to catch Nines, who’s engrossed in Connor’s ramblings. Something about a holiday party coming up, Gavin’s not sure. All he knows is how the light catches the taller android’s silhouette. How it bounces off his ivory skin and paints him gold. 

“He’s not so bad,” the smaller man murmurs. Hank chuckles. Warm. Hardy. Gavin feels a tug in his chest close to longing. Nines shoots him a side eye. One that’s acknowledging like, “you’re not forgotten, I’m still here.”

He catches the tail end of Connor’s conversation, though he still refuses to meet him in the eye. 

“Are the Blaine’s hosting this year?”

Nines shakes his head. “It’s not likely. The captain is still undergoing chemotherapy treatments until January.”

“Of course,” Connor says with sincerity. Glancing between Gavin and Nines before his temple lights up. “Well, are you two free for New Years?”

Gavin’s heart jumps up in his chest. New years? That’s so far away.. 

He tucks his hands again. Fidgeting against an icy breeze. 

“You could come to the house! Euchre night? Hank needs to redeem himself after last time.”

The older man rolls his eyes, tugging Sumo’s leash again. “Very funny.”

Nines flickers, ticking his ears. His eyes find Gavin once more. “We’ll discuss it,” he says, because apparently Gavin’s included in this. Even if he feels like he doesn’t belong in their circle, like he’s on the outside looking in. 

It’s meant to be inviting, but Gavin only shrinks. Eye to eye with the dog like he’s the only thing Gavin can stand to meet. 

Even Hank shifts. There’s something between him and Nines, something Gavin can’t place and tries not to look into. But Connor’s trying to mend it. 

“Well, we’d be happy to have you,” he chirps. Posture snapping picture perfect and a gentle smile on his lips. Gavin almost believes him. Almost. 

Nines meets that grin with something mischievous. His hand comes around, resting on the small of Gavin’s back. The action perks the human right up. 

“I’ve got Gavin this time,” he says, like it’s set in stone. Addressing him by name no less- in front of Connor and Hank. No Detective Reed business. Just Gavin. Like they're supposed to be this dynamic duo- and honestly, they would fucking dominate a game of cards like it’s nobody’s business, but Gavin still struggles to breathe. Like why’s he so casual about them? Why does he toss it to the wind like it’s second nature?

Connor’s big doe eyes shift to him in a quick flash. Encompassing and all powerful. Like putting Gavin in a choke hold. With a tiny lift at the corner of his lips. Something pleasant- something unsettling. Gavin drops his gaze as soon as he picks it up. Connor’s impossible to read sometimes and he never knows when his warmth is genuine or performative. 

But he caught enough of a glimpse. That smile met his eyes- as if their relationship wasn’t built on a cracked foundation and the roof wasn’t falling apart. As if there wasn’t an eruption of emotions last time they saw each other. As if it never happened.  

Sumo nudges him again. With a tiny whimper, like he wants more pets. Wagging that tail. It pats against Hank’s leg. The older man reaches out and strokes behind the dog’s neck. 

“Just let us know. You’re welcome anytime,” he says, looking to Nines for a brief moment. Gavin would have to be the worst detective in the world not to notice their silent standstill. Like two storms sizing each other up from across an open field. Hank with that quiet calm and Nines only ticking his ears in acknowledgment. Otherwise unmoved. 

And Connor notices it too, because he shifts. Crestfallen, like watching his two favorite people go to war. 

Still, Hank says it so casually in that resonant voice, like butter on toast. Breath lingering on a gentle cloud. It puts Connor at ease, but Gavin feels his brain scramble. Unaware of the fact that he’s the wedge between both steely figures. Just that he can feel the tension in the air, growing thick like lightning’s about to strike despite the quiet resolve. Like they’ve called for a cease fire. Something he doesn’t dare to unpack, just silently spirals. 

Itching for a smoke- for an out. To go back to just Nines and the lights. To put himself through a plate glass window-

Nines curls that hand around his waist suddenly and gently coaxes, guiding him along as they finally break. Grounding him with ease and parting words to spare. 

“Of course. We’ll talk later,” he says. Easy, breezy. With a cherry on top. “Have a wonderful night.”

Hank bobs his head with a smile. Connor lights up again. “And you as well! Good night, Gavin.”

Gavin doesn’t even have time to choke on a greeting/dismissal, they’re already walking. Like two worlds didn’t just collide. Like he’s not pin straight and grappling at the sound of his own name when Connor usually only addresses him formally. 

“That wasn’t.. Terrible,” Gavin mutters, in part mildly surprised. Tense and a little awkward? Sure. But not terrible. Still, he can’t help but to run a hand through his hair, running it back. Replaying Connor’s cordial behavior and Hank’s easy demeanor, looking for proof that it was all a facade. 

“Of course not. The Andersons are very pleasant.”

“You got beef with Hank though,” Gavin teases. He doesn’t miss the pulse in those telling ears. Like a predatory cat. 

“We had a disagreement,” Nines says flatly. His hand is still around Gavin like it belongs there. The smaller man hums. 

“Whatever.”

Nines shifts his gaze again, falling on Gavin- who has absolutely no idea what this light is doing for him. That it bounces off his hair and gleams against his rosy cheeks. That aurum and his green sweater swaddle him so pretty. An odd description for someone usually so rough and rugged, but to Nines, he’s the most beautiful thing in the square. 

He takes a snapshot. Saves it to memory like he doesn’t already possess the ability to replay the motions over and over again, as many times as he pleases- and Gavin doesn’t even realize it. 

Nines lets his arm fall away, having observed humans in the past. Pairs of them, walking in twos. Hands clasped. He reaches for Gavin’s. Startling the smaller man at first. He physically pulls away and looks at Nines incredulously. 

“What’re you doin’?” It’s skeptical, because this is public and Nines has already wrapped himself around him once. Already staked claim to the people they know and now he wants to-

“I was simply trying to hold your hand,” he states. 

Gavin squints. “Why?”

“Because we are walking together and it is customary.”

“You sound like a fuckin’ tourist,” Gavin mutters. He laces a single finger. Locking their pinkies. Nines floods with warmth like Gavin just handed him the key to his heart- because to Gavin- this is comfortable. This is trust. 

And to Nines, it’s everything. 

He logs the action as: pinkies. Reserved under Gavin’s file where it’s safe and guarded. As is every other precious little detail about him. From his wake up routine all the way down to how many sugars he likes in his coffee. 

They walk, lights glitter. The crowd hums. The sky above is rolling with fat, fluffy clouds hidden under the cloak of night and the cold nips at Gavin’s cheeks. Each passing shop has a holiday shrine in the window, every street lamp is dressed in garland. Nines logs and observes, Gavin’s gaze quietly surveys. Every so often stealing a glance at the android like they haven’t been inseparable for weeks, like he can’t believe that this moment is his- that Nines is his. 

And each flick of his eyes is noticed as Nines quietly muses. Silly human. He’ll get it someday. It’ll click and he won’t have to second guess. 

He slips another finger between Gavin’s. Pinkie, ring- linked and secured. A symbolic escalation, Nines thinks. Pinkies are small and safe, rings are a promise. They are permanence. 

Gavin hitches. His brows crease and he looks down. What is this? A fuckin’ proposal? A warmth spreads from his chest to the tips of his toes. A blush paints his cheeks. 

Fuck you, he thinks. Linking their middle fingers. Checkmate. Take that. He even shoots the taller man an impish grin, like they’re not two grown men on an evening stroll, playing footies with their goddamn fingertips- like they haven’t explored every inch of each other already but holding hands is where they draw the line, because Gavin’s got issues and Nines has the patience of a fuckin’ saint. 

Nines who just smiles. Faint, slightly upturned and glittering in his eyes. Pinkies, rings, middle- progression.

A look that makes Gavin stop and think, did I just lose at fuckin’ holding hands? 

“You fuckin’ sap,” Gavin teases. Like he hasn’t seen Nines in action already. Weeks ago during the raid. It makes the sight before him almost completely jarring. A ruthless machine, melting over something as juvenile as linking fingers. 

“I’m simply following your lead, Detective,” Nines responds smoothly. Gavin scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“For once.” 

They step off a curb, walking in tandem. Nines with his measured steps and Gavin’s boots scuffing the concrete. The android dips down, only slightly. Just so that his voice finds Gavin’s ear in a low whisper. 

“Perhaps I should do so more often,” he says, like that’s not a loaded gun right there. The way it lands, igniting a flame in his gut. 

Gavin’s lips part. Tongue tied. His throat clicks but nothing comes out, meanwhile Nines doesn’t even break fucking stride. 

But he’s sure to clock the way Gavin’s fingers tighten. How heat rushes his system like the air outside didn’t dip below freezing. Those eyes glued to him like a prize to be won. 

Little does Gavin know, he’s already got the gold. 

And, really, Gavin should be used to this by now. These drops of affections and affirmations that Nines keeps casually laying, like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to wrap Gavin in praises as if to protect him from his own barbed wire. But they just keep sideswiping him. That’s where he itches for a break- for a distraction. For a cut or a jab. 

He instinctively checks his coat, knowing Nines hid his lighter and that his vape was in the car- because any time Nines says shit like that or looks at him like he’s something worth holding onto, Gavin can’t help but to hit the fucking panic button. 

Because if he keeps pressing, then Gavin’s going to think he’s safe- and that's the scariest thing in the world. 

That’s when his gaze shifts. Spotting something flashy up ahead, glistening like some heavenly mirage. Gavin pulls Nines in that direction. Their steps clicking on frozen pavement. 

“Hey, c’mere,” he says, tugging the taller man along for a little detour. The android allows this, following along like he’s being led by some invisible string. One that keeps them tethered. 

Water glistens, lapping yellow against concrete walls. Gavin releases Nines to dig in his pockets, brandishing two coins. One he passes to Nines. The android flutters curiously. 

“Make a wish,” Gavin says. 

“A wish?”

As if Nines doesn’t already have everything he could ever want standing right next to him. 

“Yeah, whatever you want. Then toss it in.”

Such simple instructions. Nines watches Gavin like he’s observing a field test. How he rubs the coin with his thumb. The thought behind his eyes. Weighted like it’s more than just a wish. A longing that passes like he knows he’s being watched- brevity that doesn’t make that coin any less heavy as he flicks it. Then turns with a smile and a modest little shrug. 

“See? Now you try.”

Nines considers this. Rolls that coin over his knuckles with inhuman ease. Idling with it casually. Wondering how many wishes Gavin’s made. How many pennies he’s tossed, if they ever came true. If it was the same thing every time or something else entirely. 

“What is the statistical likelihood of this tradition producing results?” he asks finally, tone dry.

“Uh, zero,” Gavin tells him. Like he hasn’t been making the same wish for years. Soda caps in a gutter, nickels in a mall fountain- cigarettes down the drain. As if he wouldn’t give anything to see it fulfilled. 

Nines flashes those eyes. Balancing that coin on the back of his hand. “Interesting.”

He rolls and flicks it. Sending that penny in a perfect arch. It lands with a quiet plunk, rippling out in neat circles across the surface. No weight. No ache. Just one single thought lodged steady in his system, already standing soft and pliant beside him. 

Gavin. 

The smaller man simpers. “What’d you wish for?” Nines opens his mouth to speak, but Gavin cuts him off with a cheeky grin. “Just kidding. You can’t say, or it won’t come true.”

The android merely softens. Initiating pinkies once more. “It already has.”

Gavin’s face cracks. Another press. One that resonates this time. Evident in the way he flushes, in how his gaze both softens and ignites. With flecks of snow starting to fall around them. Melting into Gavin’s shoulders but sticking his hair.  

Nines takes another snapshot. 

“You can’t say shit like that- or I’m gonna wanna kiss you,” Gavin tells him, as if it’s a warning. Nines sees it as a challenge- a promise. 

“Then kiss me,” he says. Daring Gavin to move. Opal eyes searing into him with intent. 

Gavin stiffens. His breath catches. 

Here? In front of all these people? 

As if anyone’s looking- as if anyone cares. Gavin glances down at their hands. They’re already holding pinkies..

And fuck, if that’s not a miracle in and of itself. They couldn’t stand each other a month ago and now-

Now they’re here. In the middle of town square. Snowflakes dancing in the wind. Making plans and wishes. With the crowd bustling around them, light spilling over polished stone, and for once, Gavin doesn’t feel like the universe is laughing at him. Not tonight. Not with Nines beside him. 

He moves without thinking. One hand around the android’s waist, the other finds his face. Pulling him in. Nines leans like gravity. Their lips meet in a gentle press. Warm and tentative. With the fountain trickling and a cold breeze swallowing them in a glacial embrace. One Gavin braces against and Nines shields, winding those long arms securely around the smaller man. Deepening their kiss just a touch, enough to elicit a quiet smack between them. 

Gavin pulls back, breath lingering between them. Peering up through his lashes. Nines is lost in two pools of silver. 

“You ready to go home?” Gavin murmurs. He doesn’t want this night to end, but he wants Nines in ways he can’t exactly demonstrate in a public space. 

“That would be suitable,” Nines says. Voice like velvet. Like he’s got plans too. Warm under the panels. Fuzzy in his head. Such a pleasant feeling. One he wants to wallow in. 

He’ll take another kiss instead. Just a quick peck- he can’t help himself- brushing warmth to Gavin’s lips like punctuation, and Gavin slots their hands together when he pulls away.  

Palm to palm. Fingers laced. 

Leading the way. 

 

---

 

By the time they’ve reached Gavin’s apartment Nines has bared the chassis of his hand. Something Gavin’s sure to notice when he pulls away in the elevator, unable to keep his hands away from the android otherwise. Lingering on his bicep, hands around his waist- who’s just as pretty under fluorescent lighting as he was in the amber glow of the square. Following him like a tiny shadow as they approach the door, where Nines slots the key into the lock like it’s his name on the lease. All while Gavin’s still hopelessly wrapped around him. Lips pressed between his shoulder blades. Thawing his frozen skin against the synthetic warmth of the android’s statuesque frame. Like he’s already home. 

Of course, Edith greets them with bright eyes and a happy jingle once they manage to file in. Gavin’s ashamed to admit that he hardly even notices her- his baby girl. Too busy shedding his coat, looking at Nines like a compass pointing north while the android handles the niceties. A tender hearted gaze that lands on the pretty feline. With his usual affirmations reserved only for her and the audacity to slip out of that sexy bomber jacket while he does so. 

“Hello, beastie. Were you vigilant? Did you protect the home?” Nines intones, folding his coat over one arm, crouching to pet the cat. She flicks her tails and trills like, of course- meanwhile Gavin’s still tangled in his own sleeves. Utterly distracted because Nines just spent the entire evening glowing like a demigod under the fucking downtown holiday lights and now he’s in Gavin’s apartment- still radiating in the oven light from across the apartment.

But really, he’s just stuck on Nines. As he has been since the moment he strolled into the precinct, since he took his fucking parking spot-

Scratch that. Gavin remembers him, pressed in all black. Silver pins on the lapel of his shirt the day of Connor’s swear-in ceremony. That first glance- how their eyes met. Gavin starstruck, Nines sharp as a blade. One single spark. He felt it then, he can feel it now. Watching Nines melt over the cat like he’s not built to be an unstoppable force, and not just any cat- Gavin’s cat. Who curls around him as if to thread the three of them together.

But Gavin’s selfish, and right now, he wants Nines all to himself. So he hangs his coat and clears his throat. Nines turns his head, finding an outstretched hand. Open, expectant. A small, steady thing that makes him flicker curiously.

“I’ll take that,” Gavin says quietly. Thinking he’ll try the chivalry thing for a change. Of course, Nines stands, towering over him as he rises to his full height. Passing the coat with a tiny smile, and smoothing his shirt as if there were any wrinkles. 

Gavin falters for just a second, because for some reason, Nines’ coat feels heavier than it should- or maybe it’s just him, because something’s shifted. Something that softly palpitates between them like the gentle pulse of a steady heartbeat. Nothing but the sound of the windows creaking, of Gavin’s breath as he hangs the coat and turns back around. Finding those captivating eyes, drawing him in like the rising tide.

And that’s how they find each other. With one step that Gavin takes, pulling Nines in for a kiss. Face in his hands, standing on his toes. Nines pressing back with equal pressure. Soft, slow and reverent until it deepens. With sliding hands and teasing tongues. Gavin palms his chest, walks them back. Nines allows it. Cradling his arms, mapping their steps so they don’t trip over the coffee table on their trek to the couch where the cushion hits the back of his knees, but Nines doesn’t fall. He guides. Lowering with a grace that makes Gavin feel like he’s being pulled into orbit. Then- an opening. Nines languidly parts one leg, leaving just enough room for Gavin to slip between. An action that has his breath hitching, his brain scrambling.

Was this..?

Nines has teased the idea before. Subtle hints, offhanded comments.

And now, with that one small shift in posture. That single allowance. The invitation was there.

Gavin’s pulse drums in his throat. His hands tremble on Nines’ chest. There’s alarms in his head- not a drill. Repeat: not a drill.

He’s topped before. It was his default. Never Nines. 

But it’s cool. It’s like riding a bike. 

And Gavin’s never owned a bike. 

His mouth goes dry, he meets those eyes again. Bracing himself over Nines. 

“I hope you know, I’m gonna bust in three seconds,” he forewarns. Layering his nerves with the soft, cushy blanket of humor- but honestly, there might be some truth to it. His dick hasn’t been properly wet in months, not outside of swapping head- which Nines is stupidly good at already- but he just knows it’s not gonna compare.

Nines stills. Torrid gaze, fans humming. Gavin draped over him, practically drooling already. His LED flickers once. 

“Gavin,” his hand slips around the base of his skull. His touch ignites a fire beneath the human’s skin.  

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Nines pulls him into another searing kiss and Gavin melts. Practically liquid against the android as they mold into a heap of entangled limbs. Met with tongue and grazing teeth as Gavin settles comfortably between two impossibly long legs- legs he’s been salivating over since they first walked into the precinct, dressed in tight, tailored pants. Nerves diminished, hands eager as they slide and grope.

Like riding a fuckin’ bike. 

He’s halfway to an erection. They’re swapping spit. Smooth, wet kisses full of want and desire. Nines tilts his head back, letting Gavin worship his throat with his lips. Each kiss sparks up his sensors. Hot, wet and balmy.

Gavin slips lower, placing a few more kisses down his throat, over his collar bone. One atop his chest. Nines feels it through the fabric of his shirt. Broad hands on his lissom waist. Gavin lifts his head, cheeks pink. Lips wet. Nines’ head is spinning. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Gavin says in a voice that’s more like a rumble. Eyes steady and molten. “I bet you were thinkin’ about this all night.”

Nines doesn’t have to speak, but his fans kick on. His temple stutters. Not missing the way those calloused hands cradle his frame like his was built to fit perfectly between Gavin’s hands. How he’s halfway down his chest, pressing more kisses that Nines can feel through the fabric of his sweater. 

“Do you have any idea,” another kiss. Two in fact. Right above Nines’ pump. “What you do to me?”

Nines arches off the couch, searching for more. More kisses, more touch. With Gavin’s voice scratching an itch somewhere deep inside of him. He lets out a shaky breath, one that rattles his frame. Taking Gavin aback for a second as he realizes the exact weight of the situation. Like here’s this machine carved out of steel, now a puddle beneath him. 

“Fuck..” Gavin lets it slip. Part of him wants Nines to hear just how undone he already is.

Their eyes meet. Both heated. Gavin’s with burning desire, Nines with siren eyes, his lips parted every slightly. Fans running hot in his core, his sensors thrumming-

And, yeah, that’s the look of a horny android. All Gavin can think is: make it good, take it slow. 

He leans in. Their lips collide. Gavin feels dick twitch. His heart skips. Nines curls a leg up, hands lost in Gavin’s hair-

Somewhere in the background, Edith skitters to the door. 

Gavin grinds his hips. Spit links their lips as he parts for a breath and dives back in. One hand on a mission south, where he finds a knee, runs his palm back up the seam and squeezes the android’s thigh. Feeling those teeth again- smiling against his lips.

And he could take him right there. Ruck that sweater up, yank his pants down and have him ‘til dawn, because he’s thought about it a hundred times already.

But no. Gavin’s doing it right this time. No hurried backseat escapade, no half dressed tryst on the couch. Nines deserves devotion. He deserves worship.

He’s about to pull away, to urge him to the bedroom. Thinking about how he’s gonna map him out with his mouth, take him apart piece by piece, leave him wrecked in the sheets and then stitch him back together. Over and over again until they’re both spent-

That’s when the world stops. When his heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

When a fucking knock comes from the front of the apartment- breaking their trance. Both snapping their necks in that direction. Gavin with two hands still buried in his disheveled hair, a death grip clutching Nines’ thigh. Eyes lit ablaze, while Nines is blaring red. Equally as lethal as he glares at the door.

Gavin whips his head back around. “Were you expecting company? ‘Cuz I sure as hell wasn’t,” he snaps, thinking somebody better be fucking dying-

But it hits him, because no one ever visits. No one knocks on his door, especially not-

“What fuckin’ time is it?” There’s an urgency to his voice. Nines doesn’t even blink.

“9:37,” he says flatly. Gavin’s already pushing up, ignoring the lingering heat in his pants as he struggles to stand.

“Go get my gun,” he tells Nines. A little extreme, but this is Detroit.

The android stands smoothly, cycling yellow this time. “You don’t need a gun, you have me.”

Gavin scoffs rolls his eyes, adjusting the crotch of his jeans. “Yeah, okay.”

Another heavy knock breaks the silence. This time, Gavin’s stomach drops. Edith even runs under the coffee table. 

He looks at Nines again, urgently this time.

“Go get my fuckin’ gun,” he whispers harshly. He could give a fuck less if Nines was a walking weapon on his own, nobody knocks on his door this late at night. Not once, not ever- and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take every goddamn precaution, especially with Nines here.

The android straightens, flashing his eyes to the door. Clocking the shadow underneath before he looks back to Gavin and nods. He knows what city they live in. He knows the neighborhood isn’t exactly the nicest and he trusts Gavin enough to know that when he says, “gun,” it means, “now.”

Nines moves with practical ease, knowing exactly where Gavin keeps his piece. Top drawer, left side nightstand. The human’s already itching by the time he returns. Nines checks the chamber first, snapping it back into place before his eyes bounce back to Gavin, as if to say, “want me to handle this?”

But Gavin snags the piece with a quiet swear. Heart hammering in his chest. Definitely not how he expected his night to go, he thinks. Taking practiced steps like he’s raiding a building. Heel-toe, gun down, eyes on the door. Nines is postured, half a step behind him with a hand hovering over his shoulder like he’s already prepared to yank Gavin out of the line of fire and Edith’s still cowering in loaf form under the coffee table.

Gavin spares one single glance backwards. He and Nines share a nod like they’re both amped up and ready for war. He turns back, reaches for the handle.

Taking one moment to steal a glance through the peephole.

One lone figure. Dressed in all black. An alarming sight to most, but that jawline- those expensive shades.

Gavin recognizes him instantly.

He sighs. Body laxed. Nines watches the tension leave his body and stands down.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Gavin mutters. He rips the door open. 

“Man, what the fuck?”

Notes:

Sorry for the blue balls, but in my defense, I've given so much smut already xD

ALSO GAVIN YOU HAVE A MILITARY GRADE ROBO BADDIE IN YOUR LIVING ROOM. YOU DON'T NEED A GUN BESTIE

*sighs* these two stress me tf out

Anyway, thanks always for reading! <3

Chapter 24: Hey Brother

Notes:

Heeeeyyy

*sheepishly drops a new chapter*

So, I broke my spleen at a music festival (don't ask- but my crowd surfing days are over)

Needless to say, I have been out of commission, but fear not- I am recovered and rejuvenated xD

That being said, STILL haven't figured out a stopping point. I'm confident to say 28 chapters, but I'm also insane, so who's to say.

Sorry again for the wait! I know last chapter was frustrating for some- don't worry, when the time comes

So will they >:3

“Man, what the fuck?”

Elijah stills in the hallway, arm raised like he was about to knock again. Gavin can see his brows are raised behind those shades. Surprise evident in the arch. 

But Gavin’s heart is still pounding. His cheeks still flushed-

“I was about to blow your fuckin’ head off,” he says, just this side of breathless. Hair a wide mess, the hem of his sweater slightly askew. 

Elijah lowers his shades, blue eyes piercing over the rim. “I see the ghetto never left you,” he teases. Clocking the handheld hanging loosely at Gavin’s side. 

The younger man squints, death grip on the knob as his mind starts to race. Like why the fuck is his brother here and where does he get the nerve? When Gavin has to schedule their time like it’s a fucking dentist appointment, but Elijah can just show up whenever he wants?

He pockets this. Bookmarks it for later. “I’m a cop, asshole. Look at the fuckin’ city we live in,” Gavin snaps. 

Elijah bounces on his toes. Hands tucked neatly in his pouch and a studious smirk. “Uh, homicide detective,” he says. Callback to Gavin’s efforts last time to make sure the older man had it right. 

The quip only serves to make him tick now. Jaw set, eyes narrowed. Searing into those matted frames. 

Finger off the trigger. 

Finally, Elijah starts to shift. His smirk drops and he raises another brow. Tugging his hood as if for emphasis. 

“Are you going to invite me in?”

And what a loaded fucking question is that? It takes Gavin no time at all to remember the towering military grade weapon he has hidden behind his front door, poised and ready to strike as soon as Gavin gives the word-

Though, he’s relaxed a touch by now. Listening instead, still anticipating Gavin’s lead with a yellow fluttering ring light. One Gavin only catches in his peripherals because every fiber of him is screaming not to shift his gaze. 

And his pause must be grating, because Elijah pinches the bridge of his nose, shifting those shades just a hair. 

“Look, I know it’s short notice-“

“It’s no notice,” Gavin snaps, because it’s important and this is the only time his brother will listen- when he has to.

Elijah drops his hand back into his pouch. 

“Yeah, okay- and last time didn’t go so well-”

“Ain’t that a fuckin’ understatement.” It’s sharp, the hurt is still fresh. Sent him into a spiral that Gavin’s only just beginning to claw himself out of. 

And now it’s back in his face. Like he just can’t escape the pit. 

The older man huffs, on the edge of growing desperate. “But, I’m risking a lot just by being here-“

“Oh, I know. My one elderly neighbor from down the hall is probably pissing her pants right now because I’ve got 2028’s Man of the Century at my fuckin’ door step.”

Nines ticks blue beside him. As if lighting up with approval. 

Elijah just takes a slow, deep breath. One that bleeds annoyance and growing impatience.

“Keep your voice down,” he says, low enough to stiffen Nines back up, as if to question where this man gets the idea that he’s entitled to Gavin’s space- to his privacy. A theme Gavin’s grown accustomed to and hardly bats an eye at. If anything, it just makes the baby brother in him want to shout it from the roof top. With all the spite and triumph in the world- as loud as his voice will carry.  

But really, he’s only stalling because he can’t let Elijah in without exposing Nines, and Gavin’s not sure if he’s ready for that revelation- for that conversation. 

He shifts his weight. Juggling it in his mind. 

Elijah makes the decision for him with a huff. Growing anxious. “Oh, would you just move?” He snaps. Like the bratty, silver spooned brother he is. Always needing to charge the room. Bristling as he brushes past Gavin. That same, sharp cologne follows. Wafting under Gavin’s nose- a scent that's probably worth more than his fuckin’ rent. 

The younger man merely sputters. Nines catches him and volleys him upright as he stumbles. Still hidden in the shadows, still quietly observing. 

“Hey- I have a loaded gun, you fuckin’ prick.” Gavin shuts the door, a touch heavier than intended and strides across the den. Elijah’s plucking those shades off, standing by the coffee table. Smug as he swivels. Surveying the room. 

“I’ll take my chances,” he smirks. Glasses pouched. Hoodie off. “This is cozy. You furnish the place yourself-? Whoa-“

Elijah stops and jumps a little, wide eyed and surprised. Gavin’s standing with his arms crossed in the entryway, scowl set and directly behind him-

Broader. Stanced. 

One head taller and lurking in the shadows. With eyes like knives. 

“RK900,” Elijah says, like Nines is some rare collectible that he’s stumbled upon or a party trick that Gavin’s whipped out of his back pocket. Blinking in disbelief, cocky little smirk. “I think yours is the last face I expected to see here.”

Nines says nothing. He doesn’t even blink. Just stands, looming like a shark in the water. Oddly warm against Gavin’s back, like a solid reminder of where he stands. Wedged between Elijah- the fucking ghost of Christmas past- and Nines, his wall of steel. 

Elijah’s eyes bounce. Those cerulean orbs, always two steps ahead- always calculating- drop to Gavin in a single heartbeat before they bounce back up and slowly, his smile starts to fade. Silence banging around them like a monster in the room. Ticking wall clock, walls creaking. The oven light even flickers as if to join in on the mockery.

Nines still hasn’t moved, but Kamski’s starting to wilt.  

And Gavin can’t fucking take it anymore, so he clears his throat and turns. Tucking the pistol into the android’s hand. “You wanna put this back in the-“

Nines takes the gun without a word. Eyes still locked on Elijah as he flips the safety back on- an action that seems to seal the frown on his creator’s face. Like Nines just blew out his birthday candles before breaking away, stalking towards the bedroom without muttering a single word.

Gavin itches to rake a hand through his hair, Elijah only mutters, “charming,” like he’s just taken an ice bath- which only makes Gavin feel worse. Studying the older man suddenly with a wary gaze; the hoodie, the jeans. The shadows casting hollows in his tired eyes. Like he’s lost his golden boy flourish. 

The younger man softens, loosening his stance as he wonders aloud.

“The hell’re you doin’ here, E?”

Blue eyes lift. The older man sighs. Letting his hand run through his hair, over the back of his head and down his neck. 

The Reed scratch. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. “I wasn’t.. Satisfied with how we left things.”

“You weren’t satisfied?” Gavin parrots, like he’s just been given a bad review. Two stars on Yelp for his shitty behavior during their last visit- customer left “unsatisfied.”

Well fuck him, Gavin thinks. But then Elijah sets his jaw and something shifts in his eyes that Gavin hasn’t seen since they were kids. An age old weight that settles behind stony blue irises. 

“No. Gavin, I wasn’t.”

That’s the cinderblock that brings Gavin back down to earth. He swallows, standing on pins and needles.

Is this..?

Wishes in a well, Gavin thinks. 

Maybe his finally came true. 

Elijah shifts his gaze, otherwise Gavin wouldn’t have heard him coming, but Nines returns. Slow to approach, eyes steady. They only break away from Kamski to find Gavin. 

“Do you need me?” Nines murmurs. Like his voice is tuned into Gavin’s frequency alone. The question itself nearly catches the man off guard. Gavin even feels his skin prickle, feels an audience where there shouldn’t be. It’s his house, his fucking say but suddenly there’s pressure. Pressure to shrink and bend from his brother, to rise and stand from Nines and all he can focus on is the fucking wind outside that keeps rustling the windows. 

On one hand, he wants Nines to stay. He wants an anchor, a cushion to fall back on, but on the other? This is his brother. And for once, Eli’s at his doorstep begging to be let in. 

So Gavin tenses, knowing Nines feels it from where his hand sits on his lower back, but the android doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t challenge. Just waits and listens- even with his vague but loaded knowledge of the brother’s shared history.

“Uh, no. I’m good. We’re good,” Gavin tells him, in a voice he tries to mask with fake assurance, thinking he might just sink into the floorboards instead. Already waiting for Elijah to say something- for a jab or a quick remark. But he doesn’t. The older man remains silent. With the slightest smile- not that practiced celebrity grin- just something..

Genuine?

“Very well,” Nines says. Easily, as if the build up wasn’t equivalent to that of an expanding balloon. “I’ll step out.” His eyes shift to intruding presence in the room, but his tone never wavers. “But I won’t be far.”

Elijah bows his head like a peace treaty. 

Nines only lingers for a moment longer, then he leaves. Offering one gentle squeeze to Gavin’s arm on his way out. Understanding the weight of what’s at stake here, the importance of Elijah in Gavin’s eyes. 

Still, he can’t help but to calculate, already predicting scenarios and outcomes even as he removes himself from the equation. 

It’s when they’re finally alone, with that soft click of the front door sealing them in, that Elijah finally speaks. Shifting his weight as his gaze floats past the entryway. 

“He seems.. Loyal,” the older man states. It’s observational, lacking any harsh judgment. Still, he breaks into a wry smile. One Gavin’s been waiting for.  

“After all you had to say about the Chloes,” he tsks. Hands on his hips like he’s the fucking parent here, stumbling across Gavin’s stash of nudie mags.

“You had a whole damn harem,” the younger man retaliates, a harsh scowl etched in the fine lines of his face. “That’s fuckin’ weird, man.”

This doesn’t faze the older brother, if anything, it enlivens him.

“You don’t even like androids. You hate them,” Elijah teases. 

“Don’t pretend like you know a goddamn thing about me,” Gavin snaps, searing into the older man with an incandescent glare. “He’s called Nines and he’s not like any of your blonde fuckin’ bimbos.”

That alone seems to crack the glass, if only just a hairline. Elijah stands straighter. His smirk falls. Like Gavin just hit the rest button.

“Yes, well.. Unfortunately, Nines had to be expedited. All the charm that made RK8 so cheeky and approachable had to be sacrificed just to get him up and running. Now you have a grade A military weapon- the only model of his kind- with no social prowess. Navigating the streets of Detroit. Working in law enforcement no less- or so I’ve heard,” Elijah mutters, gaze falling elsewhere as he drones on like he’s teaching a seminar. Which is bullshit, Gavin thinks, because he hasn’t seen the parts of Nines that Gavin has. The parts that light up at the sight of a stray cat or the parts that recoil at the thought of being wet. Sure, there’s days where some shit goes right over his head- like Gavin’s quirky habits or his inability to understand that, just because he’s allowed to carry a gun, it doesn’t mean he can check the mag in the middle of a grocery store.

But then again, this information only confirms one of Nines’ biggest fears.

That he was left unfinished.

Fuck that, Gavin thinks. Narrowing his silver eyes like tiny blades and folding those arms again, in a protective stance to defend every perfect piece of Nines. 

“He’s fine,” he says, with the finality of a warning. One Elijah heeds with a nod of caution. 

“Of course,” he says. The point isn’t to argue, Gavin knows that. His brother’s always been clinical in conversation- icy even, so he doesn’t see any harm. Just explanation and senseless rambling. A blanket over barbed wire to cushion the topic of why he’s really here.

So Gavin relaxes, moving across the den to turn on a lamp. Boots scuffing the floor with heavy footfalls and a soft click to follow as the room is suddenly washed in a soft yellow glow. “So, this is about last time.” He says, not so much asking more than he is stating. 

“More or less,” Elijah responds, adjusting to the light with a few blinks. His gaze shifts to the open window with a touch of apprehension, so Gavin moves to draw the curtain.  

“What about last time?” Gavin quips. Metal rings dragging along the rod as he pulls it closed. Shielding his brother from prying eyes and any news station drones that might be lurking in the shadows. “Was it you offering me a beer at nine in the morning, or the whole shit show that followed after?”

“All of it,” Elijah begins. A somber edge to his already velvet tenor voice. “I.. I was at Colbridge before your visit, but.. The real reason I waited so long after your call was because.. I-I needed some time to prepare,” he says quietly. 

Gavin pauses. Still clutching that curtain. He can feel the skip in his chest as the words fall and that little spark of hope returns, like maybe- just maybe- things are finally turning around. 

He looks up at Eli, the older man moves, shuffling between the couch and the coffee table. Not yet trusting his own voice. Not when they’re still standing on broken glass. 

“We hadn’t seen each other in four years, and you’re angrier each time,” he mutters, like relaying data that’s been collected over time. With his hands in his pockets and a sheepish bow to his head. Then he laughs, almost wistfully. “I was already rehearsing every possible argument in my head because I knew you were pissed off at me. For my silence, my distance. For not being there when you were shot.”

Gavin swallows. Feeling the twinge in his side as if that old scar was there to join in on the conversation. Heat flushing like a spotlight, heart pounding in his chest. Hanging onto the pause as Elijah stops and looks up at him. Doleful eyes breaking through the Kamski polish like a light in the dark.

“Gavin, that didn’t feel real,” Elijah tells him. “I was in California,” he says in a breathy rasp, like he still can’t believe it. Like it’s still just a hoax stitched into the fabric of his own reality. “I was preparing for a lecture when Chloe told me. Said you were rushed to the nearest hospital, but nothing else had been reported regarding your condition.”

The younger Reed stands like a statue. Standing on the fence of being fully tuned in and wanting to bolt. 

Eli simply takes his silence as permission to continue. Carding that hand through his hair again. 

“When I tell you I was wheels up and in the sky within the hour-“ A pause. Gavin watches him recollect it in real time, wringing his hands as his brother falters. “I was asking her for updates every ten minutes. Of course- cool, calm and collected- as she’s designed to be,” Elijah adds dryly. He swallows, shifting his weight, eyes on the floor. 

Such an odd stance for a man whose stature stands at six feet tall. It almost makes him seem so much smaller.

“I kept thinking about when mom died. The motions were all the same. Anxious plane ride. No answers. Just a million thoughts and questions.”

“E..” Gavin says quietly. The older man merely shakes his head.

“I kept asking: is he alive? Did he make it? Who’s his surgeon? And when we got to the hospital.. I froze.. I couldn’t face you.”

It’s like the world stops with that very statement. Even the wall clock is silent. Gavin can hardly catch his breath. Just whispers.

“It’s okay..”

“No. It’s not,” Elijah says simply. Lifting his chin. For once, it feels like they’re finally eye to eye.

It comes in two parts.

“Gavin, I’m sorry.”

And then,

“For everything.”

Those words hang like a lifeline out in front of him. Like a raft in choppy waters. Gavin wants to reach for it- so fucking badly-

He’s almost begging for this to be the real thing. It’s lost in his throat somewhere. Along with the years of broken promises and fake niceties, all of it stripped away. Easing off his shoulders- just a touch.

But he can never truly allow himself to breathe, even when the oxygen mask is dangling in front of his face, so Gavin turns and ducks his head behind the curtain- a motion that leads the other man to believe he must’ve heard something or he’s been discovered by the press-

But really, Gavin’s just blinking back the tears. Catching a glimpse of the parking lot outside, blanketed white by a thin veil of snow. Specs of white still floating in the air as if time itself had stopped long enough for Gavin to have this one single moment.

“What?”

The younger man waits a beat, then deadpans. “Just checkin’ to see if hell froze over.”

Elijah’s expression falls flat behind him.

“Gavin.”

He pulls his head back in, eyes still glittering but his smile’s about a mile wide. “What? Man of the Century? Groveling at my feet?” Gavin snickers. “Somebody mark the fuckin’ calender.”

Elijah sighs with exasperation. Even throws his head back a little. 

“You have every right to gloat,” he grits, like he’s convincing himself of this. 

But Gavin only beams brighter.

“Damn right I do,” he smirks. “You want a beer? Are you gonna drink it this time?”

He’s already moving. 

That crystalline gaze follows as he goes. A half hanging smile to seal it. 

“Actually, I’d love one.”

 

---

 

Gavin grabs two beers and shoots Nines a text as he kicks the door shut behind him. Balancing both cans in one hand with the expert level of dexterity that’s been achieved by always snagging a back up beer in his loneliest hours to save on trips. Still with a goofy grin, like he’s just been invited to a sleep over with the cool kids.

// so far so good sorry about tonite //

// promise ill make it up to u later ;) //

He strides across the hardwood, face lit up by the screen before he locks and pockets it. Shifting his hold on both beverages so he can pass one to his brother- who’s already taken a seat on the edge of the couch- patiently waiting as the smaller man returns.

“I know it’s not one of your fancy IPA’s,” Gavin teases. “I pretty much just grab whatever twelve-pack from 7/11 and roll with it.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Elijah says, with a cheeky little shrug to boot. Damn near cracking his tab in unison with Gavin’s. Then he actually takes a sip- a generous one.

Gavin blinks.

“Weird,” he says, like he’s watching a dog walk on its hind legs. Eli licks the fizz off his upper lip and sends him a look.

“I’m still just a guy, Gav.”

The younger man snags the remote off the coffee table. “Could’a fuckin’ fooled me.”

His phone goes off in his pocket, buzzing into his thigh as a gentle reminder of who now resides outside of Gavin’s close knit circle. Probably Nines hitting him with a cordial response. Gavin doesn’t move to check, he simply queues up one of his gaming consoles and flashes his brother a wicked grin.

“You ever play Mortal Kombat?”

There’s a beat. A playful spark. No divide between classes, no worries or expectations. Just two brothers, cold beer, and a dialed up PlayStation.

Elijah smiles, something bittersweet in the way it flickers. “Depends. Are you still a sore loser?” 

Suddenly Gavin feels like a kid in a candy store. Stripped of his reservations. Weight completely lifted.

And now: a challenge.

“Get ready to put your money where your mouth is, Mr. Kamski.”

They swig in unison- family.

And Elijah’s shit eating grin- the Reed peeking through.

“You’re on.”

 

---

 

The night shifts into something playful. It’s boyish and loud and it reeks of beer. 

It’s brotherhood, bleeding through the cracks of time and the pain of distance. One game after another. One flawlessly executed fatality after the next. Loser drinks, that’s the rule. Like they’re frat boys at a college party- and Gavin’s actually winning. 

For once. 

Elijah has the gall to protest. “You can’t just button mash your way to victory-”

“Watch me,” Gavin laughs, cornering Eli’s player on the edge of the screen, ruthlessly smashing the buttons on his controller to combat his brother’s carefully timed and uselessly memorized combo tricks. Both of them on the edge of their seats, washed in the light of the television- locked in and laser focused. 

Gavin mercilessly pulls another victory out of his ass, throwing his hands up triumphantly while Elijah grumbles bitterly.

“Who’s the sore loser now?” Gavin simpers, with his signature sneer. But Elijah tosses the controller to the side and snags his near empty can from the coffee table and polishes it off.

“Lucky match,” he says once he swallows- as if luck had anything to do with it.

There’s skill in cheesing the buttons, Gavin’s wrote the book on that shit- and he’s sure to prove it when they reset and rematch. He spams low kick until Elijah curses at the screen and nearly rage quits.

“You’re fucking impossible.”

“Did you just swear? Quick- somebody call the press-!”

He’s met with a couch pillow to the face. Totally worth it. 

Eventually though, the controllers get abandoned, the game menu humming idly in the background while they drift into old stories and new beers. Somewhere in the haze of laughter, Gavin ducks out and comes back toting that once fought over laptop like it’s made of glass. The one he usually only breaks out in his loneliest hours, the one he’s been preserving since his adolescence.

It whirs like a jet engine, the fan screaming against a glitchy blue screen. Elijah just stares at it, blinking, while Gavin drops it unceremoniously in his lap and collapses against the couch beside him.

The older man squints. Noting the carved initials and the prehistoric design. 

“Is this my laptop?” He asks. 

“You’re damn right it is,” Gavin smirks, not missing a beat. “Go ahead, do your thing.”

“What thing?”

“You’re like- literally the computer guy. You made them fuckin’ sentient. I’m telling you to fix it,” Gavin deadpans. Elijah laughs- he laughs.

“Gavin, this thing is fucked,” he says.

“Okay, but like-”

“It would take an act of god to get this thing running again.”

“Well, shit,” Gavin says, almost deflated. He’s kept that thing alive for all these years- he was hoping Elijah could at least diagnose it. He frowns, but reaches for it anyway. “Guess I’ll just keep using it as a space heater,” he muses. His brother merely chuckles. Eyes already glassy despite cracking his fourth beer. 

Rich boy can’t handle his booze, Gavin thinks- with all the amusement in the world.

“‘Bout all it’s good for,” the older man states, like it’s just another hunk of tech. But it’s more than that. Something Gavin doesn’t voice, but he feels in a pang deep down in his chest. All the hours he spent smacking the keys, replaying Skyrim for the hundredth time because that was sometimes the only thing that felt like company.

A thought he buries. One he won’t let sully his good mood. Instead, he’ll put the laptop away neatly. He can still hold onto the shell of those memories, or perhaps he’ll find a way to make new ones.

He takes it gingerly. His silence speaks for itself and the way he closes the device like it’s something fragile. Like it might come apart in his hands if he’s not careful and takes it back to his bedroom where he stores it in the closet- top shelf with the charger stashed neatly beside it.

That’s when Gavin turns, like a magnetic pull anchoring him towards the bed- or what’s beneath it instead. Aching to move, but rooted in place. Teetering on the edge of wanting to share the very thing that’s kept him afloat all these years, and wanting to protect all the ugly aspects of it. Like the tear stained letters and their mother’s claw clip- the one he took off of her corpse before the paramedics arrived and-

Hell, even their father’s pocket knife that he found and kept. Artifacts he’s encapsulated when nobody else could- or would.

It’s his roots- his history- safeguarded by a fraying cardboard box. One Edith keeps chewing on, one he either digs into compulsively or neglects for months on end. Always there, always right beneath his head when he sleeps.

But it’s Eli’s history too, he thinks. He’s probably the only other soul in the world that can understand the weight of that box. So Gavin moves. Quick strides to the bed, gentle hands dragging it out. Then he swiftly rises and retreats to the living room. Padding out, cradling it with careful hands. Smirking upon Elijah’s slumped form on the couch and his heavy eyes.

The older man rolls his head over the back of the couch. Teasing.

“Thought you got lost,” he mumbles.

Gavin snickers, approaching the coffee table.

“You don’t drink much,” he says. It’s a simple observation. Gavin himself is only two beers ahead of his brother and hardly buzzed. 

“I try not to,” Eli mutters, dragging a hand over his face where the stubbles starting to shadow as the night unfurls. Glancing at Gavin with curious eyes as the younger man stops and clears a spot for that box on the coffee table.

“Wha’s that?” The older Reed slurs. There’s a softness that bleeds through the filter of Gavin’s face, a tenderness he normally keeps behind a mask.

“You remember mom’s camera?” He says quietly. Elijah stiffens and straightens slowly. Rising as Gavin sinks in beside him. Staring at the box like it’s some kind of void.

“Yeah..?” There’s apprehension in his voice, like he’s hanging on the edge of a cliff.

“I kept some of her pictures,” Gavin tells him, lifting the lid and setting it off to the side. “Along with a bunch of other shit.”

He shrugs. “I dunno.. Someone had to,” Gavin mutters.

Once more, Elijah’s eyes flick between the younger Reed and the apparent time capsule that’s seemingly sobered him right up. Soaked the alcohol in his blood up like a sponge.

“And you’re sharing this because..?”

Gavin plucks a photo out, like drawing names in a hat- completely random. 

“‘Cuz it’s yours too,” he murmurs, passing the polaroid like a spirit wand. “You can change your name and your status, but it’s you in that photo,” Gavin tells him. Watching the protest flicker behind his brother’s eyes and the reluctance that comes in accepting the Polaroid as Elijah studies is carefully- like glancing at a clipboard.

Sure enough, it’s him. Age twelve at the airport. Bags packed, big smile. 

California bound.

Eli clicks his tongue. “Didn’t realize we’d be going down memory lane,” he mutters, setting the photo down and reaching for his long forgotten brew.

“Yeah, memory lane,” Gavin says, sharper this time. Plucking another photo from the box. “Thought maybe you’d wanna walk it with me for once.”

There’s a visible flinch that comes with the swig that Elijah takes and then forces the swallow and nods.

“Guess I owe you that much,” he rasps. Lips wet, hair slipping past his brow. Fluid motion of setting the can down and taking the next picture with a cautious glance. This one’s a stinger. Halloween of ‘08. He and Gavin went as Batman and Robin.

Gavin of course, isn’t paying any attention to the camera and Eli’s posed too seriously- as if it was the real Bruce Wayne under that mask and not some scrawny nine year old.

The older man actually bites back a laugh, but he can’t hide the smile. “Fitting,” he says. Gavin has to disagree.

“Uh, no- I’m way more of a Batman. You’re more like fuckin’ Professor X or some shit.”

“That’s a completely different franchise.”

“Man, whatever. I get to be Batman in the next life. Your bitchass can be Robin.”

“Spoken like a true sidekick,” Eli counters, hooking a finger into the edge of the box to drag it closer. Gavin visibly prickles at the sight of someone else handling it, but he doesn’t say anything.

“What else you got in here? A knife? The hell, Gav?”

“That was the sperm donor’s,” Gavin quips, ready to snatch it from the older man- who flicks the blade open just for fun. Watching it gleam in the lamplight before he closes it with a thoughtless little hum. This information otherwise seems to faze right through the other Reed. He discards that knife ever so casually while Gavin’s forced to bite his own tongue in a beat of restraint. 

Then plucks the next item from the box and Gavin nearly lurches off the couch.

“And a claw clip? Jesus-”

“Careful with that-” Gavin snags that plastic relic like Eli’s just peeled back his skin.

The older man blinks. “You’re very attached to these items,” he says, clinically like he’s making a field observation.

“They’re- They haven’t seen daylight in a while,” Gavin mumbles. Not a complete lie- but not the whole truth either. He usually breaks into the box when he’s in a deep spiral and lately- he’s been in a deep spiral. 

“I’m sorry,” Elijah says, as if the realization finally dawned on him. That this was something sacred, not a specimen in the lab for him to inspect and disregard, but a physical manifestation of his little brother’s scars- a shrine of his grief. 

“Was that mom’s?” Eli whispers, noting the way Gavin cradles that clip in his palms, how he soothes a thumb over the plastic with such reverence and the faraway gloss in his eyes that hits too close to the heart. 

“Yeah, she was still wearing it,” Gavin mutters, then immediately clenches his jaw like he wants to shove the words back down. The admission feels ripped out of him, as if his own body was tired of carrying the weight of them on its own. 

And they land. Eli looks like he doesn’t know what to say. Mouth opening and closing. His hands fidgeting as he comes to rest his elbows on his knees. Like those very words just knocked him down a peg.

But Gavin won’t linger. He sets that clip back in the box like it might shatter if he drops it and scoops out a couple envelopes in return. 

He clears his throat. “Um.. Here’s these.”

The older man perks up in surprise. “You kept my letters?

Gavin shrugs. Watches him thumb the faded ink, the creases worn from being opened and closed too many nights in silence.

“Seems like a lot,” Elijah murmurs.

“Not really. Mom had a scrapbook somewhere. Probably got lost after she.. ”

“Died,” Eli finishes, soft as a bandage. “After she died.”

“Yeah.” Gavin exhales. The pause after hangs heavy, Elijah staring at him like he’s glass.

And then, the nerve: “Gavin, she was awful to you.” Quiet. Pillow soft. Like it took decades and a box of ghosts to say the obvious.

Gavin tenses under the spotlight. “You wouldn’t know. You weren’t there.” The bite’s dulled, but heavy.

“No. I wasn’t.” Barely a whisper. It hits harder than denial. Gavin shuts his eyes, feels the air sting old wounds- then startles at the hand gripping his shoulder. Firm. Warm. A squeeze that steadies something raw.

“Gavin fights back the tears like he always does; he brushes at his face instead, over the scar on his nose- angry at the show. He glances up to find his brother watching him- actually watching- and realizes, for the first time in a long time, someone else sees the pieces he’s been lugging.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

Eli clears his throat and sets those letters down- carefully this time. Fingers already on the controller. “You wanna play another round? I’ve got a feeling I might actually kick your ass this time.” 

It’s cheeky and watery- a bridge back to easier ground. Gavin laughs, shaky but real. “Yeah.. Lemme just put this up.”

He gathers the photos, closes the box, and sets it aside. Outside, the wind rattles the windows. Inside, the TV hums. For now, the ghosts are tucked away.

 

---

 

It’s well past midnight before Nines re-enters the apartment, with a string of unanswered texts that finally urged him to investigate. Humans say no news is good news, but Nines knows better when it comes to Gavin. Knows that no response is often intentional. Though, given the circumstances, Nines can assume that this time he was merely distracted. A hypothesis proven right as he steps into the den. 

Nines scans the room with those unshaken eyes, pulsing between blue and yellow as he takes in his surroundings. 

Controllers on the coffee table. 

Crushed empty beer cans. 

And a lump on the couch, too big to be Gavin- sleeping far too soundly to mimic the restlessness of Gavin’s slumber. Hair too long, hoodie too damn expensive. 

Nines narrows those eyes.

Kamski, he confirms. Flexing his ear in a subconscious little pulse before his attention shifts to the kitchen. Where a smaller unsuspecting figure moves back and forth behind the bar. Tossing more empty cans, clearing the counter tops. 

Nines pivots silently, footsteps like whispers against the hardwood. He follows the faint shuffle- the clink of aluminum and the sweep of a hand brushing crumbs into a palm before dusting them into the trash. 

Gavin doesn’t even notice him until he swivels and nearly jumps out of his own skin. Finding the android already behind the bar, sweeping a finger over the granite surface top as if inspecting its cleanliness. 

“Jesus, we gotta put a fuckin’ bell on you,” Gavin breathes, keeping his volume low as he clutches his chest. 

He’s being mindful of the third party, Nines thinks. He rubs the invisible dust between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You know, when I fail to respond in a timely manner, you accuse me of, ‘ghosting you,’” Nines says evenly. 

Gavin looks like the floor was just swept out from under him, he fumbles his pockets for his phone. 

“Oh, shit, baby- I’m sorry. We got to drinkin’ and-“

“I can see that,” Nines bristles. Still calm and cool, but a flatness to his tone that makes Gavin stop and set his phone down on the counter. Those grey eyes flicker with a sense of remorse. 

“Hey.. I know this isn’t how tonight was ‘sposed to go,” Gavin starts, stepping forward on the hardwood with a gentle creek beneath his feet as the weight shifts. Closing the gap between them with his warmth and his half mooned eyes. Those hands on Nines’ waist like they were earlier. Cradling his frame between those broad palms. “Told you I’d make it up to you,” he murmurs. Standing just under the android’s nose. Cheeks pink from the beer he’s been sipping all night. Looking soft and malleable in that deep green sweater. 

The one Nines picked out for him-

Settle, Nines tells himself. He’s not upset that Gavin prioritized his brother. He’s not even upset with Gavin- not really. 

Elijah on the other hand..

His temple flutters. Gavin clocks it- he always does. It’s evident in the way he deflates. 

“What?” He asks, still in that quiet tone that Nines hasn’t bothered with mimicking. 

“Nothing,” he says, because Gavin’s not going to like what he has to say- Nines doesn’t even like what he has to say, because it’s clear that Gavin’s had a well needed and very successful night with his brother. Something he’s been craving his entire life and to tarnish that would be to crush Gavin in the process. 

But of course, the smaller man bulldozes right past the warning sign. Taking one step back and folding his arms. 

“Bullshit, you’ve been weird since he got here. Is it the whole creator thing? ‘Cuz-“

“I couldn’t care less about that,” Nines tells him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Elijah could have built him personally and it still wouldn’t make a difference.

“So, what’s your deal then? Why’re you being so fuckin’ stiff?” It’s not accusatory, even if it comes out sharp. This is care delivered like a punch because Gavin never learned tenderness- so Nines doesn’t flinch. 

He does, however, pulse his ears again. Digging himself a deeper hole. Feeling frustrated and unprepared for this level of emotion and social conflict. Something he’s still navigating in deviancy and the success rate so far has not been in his favor. 

“I just don’t understand why he’s here,” Nines says. Gaze lingering in the direction of the den. 

Gavin simply shrugs, resuming his earlier task ungraded. “He wanted to apologize,” he mutters, snagging a few more cans before he turns to toss them in the bin. 

“But why now?” Nines wonders. 

Gavin hits the pedal on the trash can to open the lid and drops those cans. “Uh, ‘cuz we had a really shitty visit last time. Remember?”

Nines hums, directing his attention back to Gavin. “So one night of reconciliation is supposed to make up for a lifetime of neglect?”

The lid on the trash can falls shut with just a touch of aggression, and that red vase screams in its display case. Gavin only lingers in it for a beat. His  frame visibly tense before he runs his hands over his face and turns. 

“Why would you fuckin’ say somethin’ like that?” He snaps. Raising his voice just enough to indicate that Nines has a finger hovering just above the nuclear button. The android doesn’t even blink, he just stands like a stone in the kitchen. 

“From what I understand, he’s never made these efforts before-“

“Yeah, well- better late than never,” Gavin mutters. Snagging a rag from one of the sink side drawers and moving to wet it under the faucet. 

“Gavin, I’m only worried he may have ulterior motives.”

Gavin snorts. “What the fuck do I have to offer him, huh? What could he possibly want from me?” The small man teases. Nines watches him squeeze the excess water from that rag before he moves to start wiping down the counters. 

“A guilt free conscience.”

“You sound fucking ridiculous,” Gavin mutters, scrubbing the countertop like he’s trying to remove the granite. Nines reads the tension and softens. 

“Gavin, I’m not saying this to be cruel. But I think you should-“

Gavin stops and braces with both hands on the counter, head hung between his shoulder blades. “You’re supposed to be with me, right? That’s what you said. His head snaps to Nines. Those eyes are intense. Watching, waiting. For any cracks in Nines’ promise. 

The android straightens. 

“Correct.”

“Well, he’s part of me. You don’t have to like him, but I’m not kicking him out because you have a hunch,” Gavin says with some bite. Like it’s non-negotiable. Stepping away from the sink. 

“I’m simply trying to warn you-“

“Well, fuck that. He’s my brother. I think I know him better than you do.”

Nines approaches calmly. He knows what he’s about to say is going to be a slap, he knows Gavin’s likely to lash out. But it needs to be said. 

“Gavin,” he gaze is softer, his voice quieter. Hoping to meet Gavin in the eye. The smaller man only pauses with that rag again after moving to the bar, but he doesn’t look at him. He won’t. He cinches his jaw instead- and that tells Nines that it’s only going to hurt even more. “He’s never once considered how his actions have affected you in the past. Be reasonable: why would he start now?”

And he’s right. Gavin’s eyes ignite as he throws that rag down and turns. Crossing his arms over his chest as he postures up

“I didn’t realize you were such an expert,” Gavin says, dangerously low. 

“I’m not claiming to be-”

“You know, if it fuckin’ bothers you so much, maybe go back to your own fuckin’ apartment for the night,” the smaller man snaps. 

And Nines realizes-

This. This is the slap. Nines feels something drop in his chest, his LED flickers red. 

And for once, he doesn’t have a response. So Gavin continues, digging his heels in. 

“Because he’s here, he’s staying, and I’m not going to let you fucking take that away from me.”

Nines is quiet for a long pause. His temple hasn’t recovered. Gavin’s choosing to ignore that. 

Finally, the android breaks. Dropping his gaze to his hands that wring uselessly in front of him. 

“Very well,” he mutters. “You know how to get a hold of me if you need me.”

Gavin scoffs. “Sure. Okay,” he says, but something breaks in his chest. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to be angry with Nines- and he hates that this conversation is even happening. Especially when he takes the moment to realize that Nines is still dressed in that pretty red sweater, that he’s still the same man that held Gavin under the fucking Christmas lights earlier. 

It’s like he’s always stuck having to choose- and he curses the universe. 

Why can’t he just have a good night? Why can’t things just work out? Why does it have to be this?

Why does Nines have to look like a kicked puppy instead of rising to the fucking challenge? Why did Elijah suddenly have to grow a backbone if not stab Gavin the back later?

No- he refuses that last thought. 

Nines gives him one last glance, pleading with those haunting baby blues, like he’s itching to reach out and pull the smaller man in. 

But this time, Gavin’s the unmovable wall. Glaring at him like he’s some stranger- an intruder. 

So Nines turns with a quiet retreat. “Goodnight, Gavin,” he says softly in parting. Gavin watches him go. Eyes like knives until he’s out of sight, then a sheer, thin mist. One his pinches between his fingers. 

This isn’t how his night was supposed to go, Gavin keeps thinking. Swallowing the lump in his throat. Heaven fucking forbid he have one uncomplicated night of unbridled happiness. That he allow himself to let loose and actually breathe for the first time in years. Like his whole existence hasn’t been a string of letdowns, one right after the other already. 

He finishes cleaning the kitchen purely because he can’t stay still. Not without bursting. So he wipes down the counters again- more thoroughly this time- and turns off all the lights. 

Before bed, he brings his brother a blanket. The man’s clocked out on his stomach still. Soundly sleeping with that designer hoodie bunched up, his head resting on his folded arms. 

Gavin covers him. Smoothing the blanket over. 

He never gets to see this; the softer sides of Kamski. 

The Reed. 

And after, he straightens. With idle hands now twitching at his sides; Gavin resents sleep. 

But he still disappears back into his bedroom, blinking past the blur as he stares at the empty bed. He pads towards hit almost timidly, taking a moment to check under the frame, searching for a familiar ball of fluff. 

He clicks his tongue quietly. “Edie.. Here, baby girl.”

Nothing. She’s not under the bed, she’s not sleeping between the pillows. She’s likely hiding behind the couch outside. Gavin doesn’t just sigh, he deflates. 

Then his eyes flick to the window and he notes the storm outside in a flurry of flecks and all he can think about is:

Nines drives a motorbike. 

And he hates being wet.

Gavin wants to cry, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed that luxury right now. Instead, he stands and goes to change for bed. Discarding his jeans and that stupid sweater in a pile before snagging a pair of sweats from the drawer and one of Nines’ long sleeves from the hanger like he fucking deserves to wear it. 

Then he shuffles his sorry ass to the bed and flops. His brother in the next room, his lover riding off into the storm. 

His cat nowhere to be found. 

And once more, Gavin’s completely alone. 

Notes:

Gavin, you fucking nightmare- you knOW MY BABY NINES DOESN'T LIKE TO BE WET!

Screaming, crying, sobbing as always.

Also, Elijah is such a struggle to write- it's hard to imagine him post revolution and in this particular AU, mostly because I catered it to Gavin specifically- like a very dumb and lazy writer, so forgive me if he feels out of character x.x

Thanks again for reading!! <3

Chapter 25: The Reed Test

Notes:

Ya’ll don’t understand, I threw my back out writing this chapter

Be sure to grab a couple’a tissues. This one’s BIG SAD.

Connor stirs, head ringing with a familiar notification. One that pulls him from the lull of stasis and back into the present. His umber eyes open slowly, pupils adjusting to the quiet dark of his shared bedroom. Finding that of his often grumpy husband sleeping soundly beside him. The warm weight of one strong arm draped over his waist, the gentle noise of him snoring softly against the pillows. Connor sighs almost silently, skimming his digital message board behind his HUD. 

Nines?

He never calls this late at night. Connor’s gaze flicks to the window as he slowly rises, careful not to stir the older man lying next to him. 

Snow whips in the wind outside. Howling against the frosty glass with an eerily groan. 

Internally, he responds. 

“It’s late, are you okay?”

Nines returns his message in a glitch. Voice fragmented in the static. 

“Meet in the garden?”

Connor flickers yellow. Sitting completely upright at this point. Once more, he glances at Hank. The older man’s out like a light, so Connor mindfully slinks away, adjusting the hem of his nightshirt as his socked feet hit the carpet. Easy to shift his weight over the creaky floorboards and slip into a pair of cozy house shoes. 

He doesn’t go completely undetected. Sumo lifts his head from his spot at the end of the bed, watching with saggy tired eyes as the android sneaks out of the room, making no effort to follow. Just emits a big sleepy sigh before he goes back down with a groan. 

“Meet at yours,” Connor says, still speaking internally. “Mine’s a mess right now-“

Nines quickly responds, more clearly this time.

“Negative. Mine’s a disaster.”

There’s a rumble in the background. Still, Connor rolls his eyes. 

“It can’t be that bad-“

Lightning strikes just as he passes the bedroom door, stepping out into the hall and into the guest bed- still reeking with fresh blue paint from his and Hank’s earlier project. Connor smiles briefly, recalling the paint wars that nearly stained the carpet, all before he’s met with the blistering pellets of falling rain. Virtually, he’s nearly side swept by a strong gust of wind. 

Connor stumbles. Autumn leaves raking across the alabaster bridgeway. 

He blinks and suddenly the hum of his quaint suburban dream becomes a roar of thunder. He shields his eyes from the icy pellets. Squinting in the rain as another gust of wind threatens to send him over. 

“Nines?”

He can’t see much past the bridge. The cylindrical LED lanterns were doing a pitiful job of weathering the storm- faintly aglow and flickering in the black night. Connor could only really make out the pond sloshing ruthlessly on either side of the bridge and the faint silhouette of the gazebo up ahead. Sitting in the mist like a phantom. 

By now, he’s already soaked. Cold nipping at his skin with a thousand tiny pin pricks. He calls out into the storm once more, blinking heavy lashes, clutching the fabric of his shirt. 

“Nines-? Whoa!”

A force from behind nearly knocks him over. Sending him forward across the bridge. Connor flares a solid red, cutting through the dark stormy night before it flickers back to yellow.

“Easy,” he quips, finding shelter and muted static under the aforementioned gazebo structure. He has but a moment to note the lack of white lattice panels and the missing rose vines- of course, Nines never got to experience Amanda’s presence. He’s been plagued by solitude since day one. 

Behind him, Nines bristles. Solid red as he releases his hold on Connor’s arm and struggles to brush the rain away. Clearly perturbed and visibly flustered. As if every drop was burrowing its way into his skin. 

“I told you it was a disaster,” he says sharply. Connor merely blinks, attention snapping to another growl of thunder and a swirl of dancing leaves. Rivulets of water scaling the slopes of his freckled face, drops of it cascading from his fallen tendril. 

“What did you do?” He wonders aloud, eyes falling back to his surly predecessor to study him further. 

Red wine sweater, his shoulders covered in frost. Quickly, Connor remembers the snow outside in the mortal realm. 

“You’re covered in snow- are you outside right now?”

“No-“

“Nines, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Connor gasps suddenly. Fire igniting beneath his plates as he recollects the previous hours by the millisecond. 

Downtown. 

A spotted pair. 

Gavin. 

“What did he do?” Connor demands. Posturing his shoulders so that they’re squared. 

Nines pauses. Another flash of lightning strikes in the distance. 

Then the thunder rolls. 

“Nothing. It was me. I overstepped,” he mutters. His voice is nearly swallowed by the storm. His hands still working to brush himself off, as if every little splash of rain were a personal attack. 

Still, his eyes don’t meet Connor’s. As if vulnerability itself was suddenly a threat to his composure. 

“You overstepped? Is that what all this is about?” Connor asks, spreading his hands to gesture to the raging weather still hissing around them. 

Nines closes his eyes as he cards a hand through his hair. Taking a single moment to pause before he straightens. 

“Yes. Now how do I make it stop?” 

The rain clung to him like it had back then- heavy, unrelenting. A reminder of the months he spent rusting in the dark. 

Connor tilts his head. “Make it stop,” he parrots. “Nines- you don’t. That’s not how it works.”

Nines ticks his ears, seemingly displeased. 

“I don’t know why you assume I have this all figured out. Seriously. You should see my garden most days,” Connor tells him. 

There’s another surge of thunder rolling in the distance, dying trees swaying in an upswirl gust, as if the android before him were suppressing a deep growl of frustration. Though he outwardly remained silent and stony eyed. 

Connor squints. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the more advanced model- I should be asking you these questions,” he challenges. It’s meant to be teasing, but Nines just flickers yellow. 

“I thought we agreed not to compare and contrast,” the taller android mumbles. Once more, his voice is lost to the rain, still pouring outside the gazebo. Water trickles in, leaves rustle past their feet. Connor softens. Glancing down to where Nines’ hands are twitching at his sides. 

He sighs, digging into the pocket of his plaid pajama bottoms. 

“Here,” Connor unsheathes his coin and passes it. Allowing Nines just a beat to accept his loose change, eyeing the coin in his palm. Cool and solid- something certain in the middle of all this noise- before Connor then turns on a slippered heel. 

It even squeaks. 

“Walk with me,” he says. Hands still tucked away in his pockets as he strides along the stone. Hearing the quiet, measured clicks of Nines’ surgical footfalls. Guiding the taller android to the edge of the skeletal structure. Connor embraces the mist that’s carried in on another anxious breeze. Nines keeps his distance. 

“See that?” Connor’s gaze is pointed out and upwards. Brown eyes on the dark and muddy sky. Clouds still pulsing with yellow flashes and thunder rolling beyond their reach. “That’s you,” he grins. Speaking over his shoulder. 

Nines follows his gaze. Opal eyes transfixed on shaky thunderlight as his thumb mindlessly strokes the minted coin in his grasp. 

“You’re very angry,” Connor teases, swiveling just enough to flash that chummy smile in an all knowing smirk. His LED like a safety beacon cutting through the dark. 

Nines furrows his brow, a surge of rain follows. “I’m not angry- I’m frustrated,” he insists. The snow had long since melted into the threads of his sweater. Connor can’t help but to fixate on the dampened fabric- clinging to Nines like a quiet reminder of his soiled evening- and he left without his coat. Something Connor would have been quick to overlook if it had been any other android- but it wasn’t. This was Nines. The very android who couldn’t stand to be exposed. Meaning that whatever happened had forced him out into the cold. 

And because this is Nines, he likely braved it without flinching. Internalized it instead and logged it away like useless data. All in an effort to convince himself that he was built to endure and withstand. That he was nothing more than an unshakable machine. 

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, Connor thinks. Staring up at his sullen predecessor with doleful eyes. Bypassing the citrine temple light and studying his dismal expression instead. 

Every conclusion he draws just leads him back to Reed. A thought alone that only seems to disgruntle the smaller android. Still, Connor shrugs, masking with nonchalance. 

“So let it rain. What’s it gonna hurt?” He challenges. Nines only deflates, confirming what Connor’s known all along. 

That Nines was something Cyberlife neglected to label “fragile,” before he was so quickly disregarded like every other unfinished product that never made it to market. Now left without a command to rely on, a program to fall back to. Just the wreckage of his own software trying to make heads or tails of his own apparent heartbreak. 

Another roll of thunder growls above the tree line. Quieter this time as Nines’ own hand stills on that coin. 

That’s when Connor realizes that this is more than just bad weather. 

Nines is hurting. 

“Niles..” he says softly. “What happened?”

Finally, Nines releases a depleted sigh. Eyes focused on the puddles gleaming like glass at their feet. 

“Everything was fine,” he begins. Tension in his voice strung like a bow. “Or so I thought. Gavin’s both the easiest man to read and the hardest to figure out-“

“I knew it,” Connor snaps. Instantly regretting his little outburst as Nines promptly clamps his mouth shut. Followed by another shot of lightning, white hot this time. Painting Connor’s silhouette in ivory flash. His eyes widen and the thunder rolls again, briefly drowning out the continuous downpour still raining down around them. 

The echo lingered across the pond, long enough for silence to feel heavier than the rain itself. 

“Connor, I won’t defend him against you, but he wasn’t entirely in the wrong here,” Nines tells him, with restraint laced in his steady tone. Connor folds his arms and narrows his eyes. 

“He sent you out into the snow.”

The wind picks up again. Connor’s loose threads flap in the angry breeze while Nines stands like a statue. 

“I left on my own accord.”

His words cut through the storm, clean and cold as sleet- but just as quick to melt away as Nines lifts a hand to his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose as the noise swells again. A thick curtain of rain, flashes of light and more scattered debris. 

“This isn’t what I wanted to discuss,” he says. Sounding more and more defeated as the words all but spill out of his mouth. “I run the risk of jeopardizing his privacy and it puts you in a position of having to empathize with someone who failed you- but I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to stand back when I know he’s going to be hurt again. I simply do not possess the capacity to do it. And now I’m afraid that by waking away, I’ve only proven to him that I’m just like everyone else who’s left him in the past.”

The storm eased for half a second, as if the world itself had gone still just to listen. Connor feels the weight of those words deep in his chest. Reminding him of all the times he’s fought and failed to be that very pillar of strength for Hank-

And all the times Hank has done the same for him. 

He takes a single step forward, ducking his head to try and find that steely gaze. Nines refuses to meet him, still, Connor speaks. 

“You’re not walking away, you’re giving him space,” he says gently. “Gavin’s hardheaded- and self destructive. He and Hank are a lot alike in that regard. Surely you’ve noticed,” Connor adds with a tiny flourish. One subtle smirk that nearly cracks the veneer on Nines as he goes back to that coin in his possession, fiddling with both hands as the breeze slowly dies and the thunder rolls away. 

“Besides, it’s not always about bracing for impact,” Connor continues. “Sometimes you just have to catch them when they fall.”

Nines’ thumb stills over the coin. He doesn’t look up, but his temple flickers back to blue. A sight that more than put the older android at ease. 

“You have once again proven to have all the answers,” Nines mutters. Rolling that coin this time, letting it pass over his knuckles. Connor straightens with a brighter smile. 

“And you continue to be a complete and total drama queen,” he simpers. Watching that coin still and that glare reach him abrupt and unamused. 

There he is, Connor gleams. He can’t help it. He digs just a little more- because he’s probably the only person in existence who can get away with it. 

“Seriously. If I had a nickel for every time you’ve come to me with boy problems-“

“I do not have boy problems.”

“I’d have two nickels,” Connor continues, so smug despite the flashes of flickering amber still pulsing silently across an onyx sky. Cooler, distant. 

He’s winding down. 

“And once you patch things up with Detective Reed, you can apologize to my husband.”

He breezes right past the younger android as Nines snaps to attention, visibly appalled. 

“Apologize?”

He articulates the words very pointedly, as if the concept alone were foreign to him.

“You ambushed him during a rush,” Connor says, midway across the alabaster structure, unbothered by the puddles and littered debris. 

Nines merely objects. Pin straight, tiny scowl. “I did no such thing.”

“And now he’s convinced that you hate him,” Connor pouts. 

“I am not responsible for his feelings,” Nines remarks. A distant roll of thunder sounds one last time- a soft reminder rather than a threat. 

“Too bad. You two are my favorite people in the whole world and I’ll never forgive you if you can’t get along.”

He brandishes those words like a secret weapon- one not meant to harm but to persuade. He knows Nines wasn’t in the wrong that day, but between him and the lieutenant, they both need a nudge. 

And he can already feel the retaliation, even in the stillness, so Connor twirls around before Nines can move to speak. Staring out at the pond, choppy waves now glittering in the breaks of moonlight peeking through the clouds. 

“Shh, listen,” he says. Nines flashes yellow very briefly, ears trained as his eyes survey the garden like scanning for threats past the water’s edge- just to find the evidence of his storm at rest in idle twigs and dying leaves. Met only with the quiet trickle of leaking rainwater and cool air that softly kisses their mirrored skin. 

Connor smiles softly once more. A surge of pride glittering behind his sable eyes. 

“The rain has stopped,” he simply says. Watching the tension bleed out of Nines’ shoulders like the weight of the rain itself was suddenly lifted off his back. 

He turns to leave, thinking his work here must be done when a quiet voice- a smaller voice- beckons him once more. 

“Connor..”

The older android stops with a pause. Turning back just to find Nines thumbing that coin again. Tracing over the embellished details before tucking it behind his back between clasped hands. 

“You mentioned that yours was unstable as well?” Nines states, as if offering his shoulder in return. A gesture much more than friendly. 

It was brotherly. 

It was family. 

“It’s much better now,” Connor murmurs in a quiet reassurance. His own garden flickering once in his mind’s eye. The weeds, the overgrowth- the tangled thorny vines- all shrinking back into the earth like a retreat. Clearing the luscious green paths and the ivory stone. 

Still, Nines comes forward, extending a hand to return that minted coin. Connor simply shrugs. 

“Keep it. I’ve got several.”

And with that, the garden fades to quiet black. Connor returns to an unfinished child’s bedroom in his comfy two story home and Nines resurfaces- not in his barren studio, but a bedroom once gifted to him out of kindness. Now a place mark for him to fall back on when there’s too much noise for him to bear outside. 

The captain will wonder why he’s here and Janice will fuss over him in the morning.

Nines smiles. 

Perhaps this time he’ll allow it. 

 

---

 

Gavin hardly sleeps a wink in the night. Back and forth between an entire paragraph he’s drafted over text just to erase it every time- itching for Nines in a way that nearly burns a hole in his chest. 

Perhaps that’s why he’s up first- half a cigarette hanging from his lips as he navigates the kitchen with practiced, quiet footsteps. Sucking the smoke down like it might override whatever’s undone in his system. Refusing a glance out the window to confirm how bad the weather got last night despite the blinding white light screaming past the glass. Straining behind his eyes and forcing him into a minor squint. A glare that sears like the lunch meat in the frying pan. Though each pop of grease helps keep him grounded in the present. 

He sets that spatula down, resting it over the rim of the pan and takes that cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke. It billows, thick and cloudy. Gavin then reaches for his half empty mug of dark roast coffee and brings it to his lips for another taste of bitter. Still hot on his tongue and burning all the way down. 

“Didn’t realize you ran a bed and breakfast-“

A gravelly voice sounds from behind. Rough and muddled with residual sleep. Gavin turns with a swallow, holding that mug with dissipating smoke still lingering from his cigarette.

He clears his throat and sets the mug down. 

“Mornin’, champ. How’s the hangover?” Gavin teases, as if he didn’t still have a Nines shaped hole aching in his chest. 

Elijah brushes this off with a groan, still draped in last night’s blanket, dark shadow coming in around his angular jaw. He rubs his face with a grimace. 

“‘Slept in my contacts,” he mutters. 

Gavin snickers. “Sounds like a four eyes problem,” he simpers, flicking ash into a crystal tray. One he got at an office party years back because some unlucky bastard pulled his name for Secret Santa. 

And what else do you get for a guy like Gavin Reed, except maybe a tool to help feed his need for constant stimulants.

Eli fans the smoke away with a distasteful scowl. 

“Nasty habit,” he says. “Mom used to drive me insane with it.”

Gavin hums. 

He feels that too, he just can’t voice it. Not when everything’s still so raw and uncertain between them. Like the language they were speaking back and forth was somehow foreign when it should have been something they always shared. So he turns his back instead and returns to the stove with his head bowed. 

“There’s coffee, not sure how you take it. Creamer’s in the fridge,” Gavin tells him. The pan’s still sizzling. He gives it a shake, then snags an egg from the carton he had sitting out and cracks it one handed- like he’s done a million times before with much less haste. Unflinching as the grease pops once more and lands on his skin. Nines’ sleeve bunch up his elbows, his hem draped loosely down past his waist.

Elijah moves behind him with a small noise of interest. Still dragging that blanket around like a cape- so unlike the business mogul seen in the magazines.

He comes just barely into view. All six feet of him looming like a shadow. A large, sleepy shadow, stripped of status and pedigree. 

“Cups?” 

His voice is still sandpapered. Gavin lifts his head and nods.

“‘Bove your head,” he murmurs, speaking around the filter. Eli snags one, muttering about how the service here sucks. 

“Hey, if you wanted five star michelin, then you should’a stayed in your fancy villa.”

Eli pours from the pot, steam curls over the mug. Gavin sends him a curious glance. “Coffee’s hot, that’s all that matters,” the older man says, in a soft rumble that almost feels nostalgic. Like a voice he once heard in a hospital corridor. When the tiles moved under restless, pacing feet- with gentle back and forth thuds of heavy work boots- and his own tired eyes that fought to stay awake. Soothed by a larger hand rubbing constant circles into his back. Touch that was bone deep but fleeting.

He twitches his nose. For once he’s left without a quip, so he stubs that cigarette out instead. Not quite paying attention to the tiny trill from across the bar until she’s perched on the other side of it. Sniffing the air with that heart shaped little nose, likely stirred by the smell of fried bologna.

She’s otherwise been hiding all night. 

But her posture quickly sours as those emerald eyes land on the unsuspecting newcomer, just in time for Elijah to turn and pause. Steam curling past the edge of his mug, mid sip and equally intrigued. 

“Didn’t peg you for a cat person,” he mutters nonchalantly, as if he’s not receiving a fiery little death glare from the prickly feline.

Gavin moves in an instant, noting the way her fur puffs up like she’s ready to pounce.

“She’s not friendly,” he says quickly. As if to prove his point, Edith flattens her ears. Leveling her head with her shoulders as she growls, eyes unwavering from Elijah’s unbothered form.

The man simply cocks his head like he’s reading data off a clipboard.

“No, I guess she isn’t,” he responds. Gavin scoops her up gently, having been on the business end of those claws more than once himself. She curls into his chest, but she never once takes her eyes off of Elijah.

“And that’s enough of that,” Gavin says, trying to make light of her aggression with a playful tongue. “You’re benched, young lady.”

Though deep down, this jars him. She was so receptive with Nines that he almost thought she was getting better with strangers. He even tries to rationalize it in his head, like maybe she's just nervous. Elijah’s tall and new, and his cologne still reeks like it’s had time to marinate- so of course seems on edge. 

Still, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s seeing something he isn’t. Having always been the guardian of his heart- the one constant in his life and the only creature who never leaves.

“Gonna toss her in the bedroom. Make sure my eggs don’t burn,” Gavin commands, feigning authority like he’s got the legs to stand on it. Catching the quiet chuckle from behind and the slow movement of his brother’s hulking form retreat to the stove as he moves. One angry puffball tucked securely under his arm, every muscle in her body taunt like a drum. 

She even squirms. 

“I know, your house, your rules,” Gavin teases. He deposits her on the bed. She runs to the corner and loafs. Ears down, back turned. 

Gavin frowns. He tells himself she’ll come around- but it doesn’t stick. It only deepens the void in his chest. 

First Nines. 

Now the cat. 

Gavin sighs. 

He returns to the kitchen rubbing his hands together. Sheepish upon entry. 

“Sorry, she’s a rescue,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s like livin’ with a tiny shark.”

He means it as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to land. The older man is seemingly occupied. Stove off, pan cooling on the back burner. Gavin finds his brother’s back turned, gazing along the wall where a four tiered display case stood next to the kitchen window. Sleek glass, shiny black wood. 

Inside, a gaudy red vase. 

“That thing’s hideous,” Gavin quips, making way to the stove so he can continue with his previous task. Filling the space with his voice when Elijah doesn’t budge. “Seriously, you should get your money back.”

Nothing. Just another beat of silence as Gavin snags a loaf of bread off the counter and steps in front of the toaster. Fiddling with the twist tie as Elijah finally moves, having strewn that blanket over a barstool in Gavin’s absence. 

He slips his hands into his pockets. Steely eyes scanning the younger man’s work station as he slowly pivots. 

“This wasn’t necessary,” he mutters quietly. Like the vase itself had flipped a switch- Reed to Kamski. 

Even his posture’s changed; straighter, colder. The warmth that had crept into the morning evaporated like steam.

“What d’you mean?” Gavin says, not once taking his eyes off the stubborn bread tie. He can feel it creeping up his spine, the solemn edge in his brother’s voice. Like he’s walking on glass. 

“I mean you didn’t have to make me breakfast,” Elijah tells him, speaking more clearly now. Gavin sends him a smirk. 

“Who says it’s for you?”

He’s aiming for a laugh- a chuckle or a crack- anything other than the stony exterior staring back at him. With that mournful glaze in his eyes like the bearer of bad news. 

“Gavin, I can’t stay,” he says softly. Four words, delivered like a blade slowly pressed under his ribs. Gavin feels the pang before his brain can even process it- thinking surely he’s misread the situation. Still wrestling with the bread- still trying to salvage this morning before it can be ripped away from him. 

He can’t even hold his brother’s gaze without shaking. So Gavin drops it.

“Whatever, man. You don’t gotta make it sound like you’re shippin’ off to fuckin’ battle,” he mumbles, but even the joke lands dry. 

He has an early meeting, Gavin tells himself. Or an appointment out of town- something silly and mundane that he’s just missing because Elijah’s neglected to tell him. 

But then he drops the hammer. Shattering the fragile pieces of him that they spent all night putting back together. 

“Gavin.. I’m not coming back.”

Everything stops. His hands, the wall clock. Even the blood in his veins. 

Gavin struggles to find his voice, unable to meet Elijah where he stands. 

“What d’you.. I mean- I don’t-”

That’s it. That’s all he’s got. Fragments of a sentence that he can’t compute. 

And he clutching the fucking bread like it might have the answers. Like it might be able to finish the thought for him.

What’s worse is that Gavin can feel the pity in those blue eyes as they flick to his iron clad grasp- like he didn’t just drive the wedge between them himself.

“Gavin..”

“Why are you here?” Gavin snaps- unable to look up, not when he still hears Nines’ words echoing in the back of his skull- so he studies the plastic instead.

Eli’s quiet for a moment. Letting the silence drag its claw over Gavin’s skin before he finally clears his throat and speaks. 

“Closure,” he says quietly. Like it’s not another knife to the chest. 

Gavin nearly wracks, he manages to suppress it somehow. Tossing the bread down on the counter instead. 

The thud of it hitting the surface top sounds dull and final.

“Yeah, well, fuck you. How about that?” 

Elijah deeply sighs. Like he’s already exhausted. No empathy, no reaction- just weary resignation- like he’s already halfway out the door.

“Gavin..”

“No. You don’t get to keep doing this. Wh- why? Why would you-?”

This time, the older man steps forward as if to try and pacify the smaller Reed. Gavin finally meets his hollowed gaze, already feeling the walls as they start to crumble. 

“Never again,” Elijah says. His voice is wrapped in silk, but his words are tiny pushpins. “This never has to happen again, Gavin. You deserve that. You deserve peace-“

“Oh, go FUCK yourself!” Gavin shouts. The echo of his voice lingers- raw and ugly. Burning like acid in his throat. He glares with shaking hands- unable to decipher whether he’s angry or simply just breaking apart.

Elijah doesn’t even flinch. He stands like a stone erected from the floorboards. His practiced posture likely rehearsed to brace for this very reaction.

Still, Gavin can’t stop himself. 

“You come to my fucking apartment during the bullshit hours of the night and you sit on my fucking couch and cosplay big brother just so you can leave- again- but this time without any guilt weighing on your conscience? Fuck you. Seriously. Do you realize-?”

He’s unraveling by the second. Tears brim, his voice cracks. Elijah’s the one person who can break him like this and he’s just picked him up and thrown him down.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but Gavin.. I can’t be who you need me to be-“

“I’ve never asked you to be anything- I’ve never asked you for anything. I just-“ Gavin’s lip trembles. His hands shake. 

He just wanted his brother. 

The man himself steps forward like he’s offering a lifeline, but his sincerity feels like daggers.

“Gavin- you haven’t left that house,” he says- as if speaking through the bars of Gavin’s prison cell. “You’ve held onto a busted laptop for twenty years. Slept with a box of ghosts under your bed like you expect to have that life back-”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get the luxury of moving on,” Gavin snaps, clenching his fists down as his sides- glaring through angry tears. “I didn’t have some snotty professor to pull me out or-or any other fuckin’ options. So forgive me for holding onto the only good things that I h-had.”

Gavin’s gaze shifts back to the floor. Vision blurring around the edges. Like he’s shrinking, dissipating into the floorboards. Like he can scream and shout until his lungs collapse but nothing will change. 

That’s what he gets for wishing. 

That’s what he gets for hoping- for thinking things could finally be different. 

The universe is not only laughing at him. 

It’s cackling. 

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you expected..” Elijah mutters- with that same voice that had soothed him earlier. 

Now it ruthlessly makes him bleed. 

Gavin says nothing. He turns away, facing the counter. Hands buried in his hair- reminding himself to breathe. 

By now, the pan’s gone cold. The clock’s gone silent.  

Elijah won’t shut the fuck up-

“I just feel as if I’ve contributed to enough of your pain,” he says- always taking credit for everything. Even Gavin’s grief. 

“But I’ll never hurt you again,” he adds, like he’s just laid out a peace treaty.

All Gavin has to do is sign..

But he doesn’t- he can’t. 

He wonders instead if this is what Elijah wanted all along- to watch a grown man crumble in his own kitchen. Wonders if he gets a say in it at all or if he’s just meant to stand here while the universe viciously tears him apart. 

“Did we mean so little to you?” He finally croaks, watching the granite continue to blur as he drags those hands over his scalp and sniffs, unable to suppress it any longer. Unable to shake the insurmountable pain that aches in his chest like a gaping wound. 

He thinks he’d do just about anything to make it stop. 

Hell, he’d drop to his knees and beg if that’s what it takes. He’s already spent his whole life grasping at straws- what’s one more?

And Elijah’s look at him with such sorrowful eyes- a sadness he can feel radiating like the warmth of his solid frame.

And then he slides the knife into his side one last time.

“You meant everything to me.”

Five words- pillow soft, but wrapped in barbed wire. 

Gavin pinches his eyes, trying to make heads or tails of it in his own mind. Trying to figure out how Elijah can say such a thing while so willingly erasing himself from their past- like they didn’t once share a bed when they were little. Like they weren’t born of the same cloth. 

He hears him shift, hears the hardwood creek under his weight as the seconds pass- still, he can’t force himself to look. He can’t make himself watch as another person walks out of his life.

“Gav..”

No.

Stop.

Please.

Gavin shakes his head. Counts the footfalls that pad in his direction.

One..

Two..

Three..

Then melts against the arm that winds around his shoulders and tucks him into a broad chest. Listening to the quiet, gentle thuds of his brother’s heartbeat and wracks with one tiny sob. One that escapes him before he can try to stifle it. Inhaling that expensive cologne like oxygen- something he’ll never smell again, even if he strikes it rich. 

And when they break away, Gavin’s still reeling. Warmth lost in the thread count of his sweater. In the weathered cracks of his palms. Reaching those misty blue eyes that nearly mirror his own. 

No polished billionaire. No Kamski veneer. 

Just the Reed family sadness etched into the fine lines of his hollow features. 

“Go,” Gavin mutters, voice in a rasp. “Just go.”

The older man nods without a beat. “Yep,” he says, like he’ll break too if he stays any longer. Gavin sniffs, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Shuffling around the bar like he’s lost, wringing his hands like it might hold him together.

Eli grabs his shoes by the door. Stops and turns.

Gavin drops his gaze.

He can’t watch. 

“Take care of yourself, little brother.”

That’s the last thing Elijah says to him before he’s gone. 

Hood up.

Shades on. 

The door clicks like the final nail in the coffin. 

Gavin crumples.

 

---

 

He’s not sure how long he stands there, but he doesn’t move until well after the coffee pot clicks off. Blinking past the steady stream of tears like he’s come to after a black out. Turning on shaky knees to snag that blanket off the barstool- folding it into his chest with white knuckled fists. Unable to help himself as he surveys the room, caught in the aftermath of what was supposed to be a quiet morning while Eli- Elijah- gets to go home to a clean slate.

No dirty kitchen.

No pan on the stove, no half empty mugs of cold coffee. Just life as it was. Leaving Gavin to sit in the wreckage once more.

He doesn’t have it in him to clear it just yet. Instead, he drags that blanket to his bedroom and collapses on the bed. Deflating with another wave of silent tears. Feeling the mattress dip as Edith makes her way from the edge to his face. Worming her way in with that curious little nose of hers. 

Gavin gently nudges her away.

“Not now, Edie..” He mutters, in a half broken rasp. She merely flops onto her side, cushioned by the same pillow Nines’ has been resting his head lately.

It still smells like him- the pillow. Something sharp and vaguely artificial, like gunmetal. 

Or a promise Gavin isn’t sure he can believe in just yet, but he turns his face into it anyway. 

That’s when the itch starts- a restless twitch in his fingertips. His hand finds the phone, half buried under that same pillow, pinned beneath Edith’s gentle weight. She blinks up at him, purring like she knows something he doesn’t.

Text him, she says.

He said to call. Just fuckin’ do it.

“I dunno.. He seemed pretty upset last night,” Gavin mumbles, unlocking the screen and scrolling through his messages. He curls into the blanket, taps on his lover’s contact-

Labeled, ‘Baby,’ with a heart emoji. 

Gavin sniffs, hovering his thumb over the keyboard with a million things to say- halfbaked pleas, heartfelt apologies- things he can’t convey with words alone so he just sits there. Staring at the last few messages sent between them, simmering in his own hurt and self pity.

He tosses the phone down, rolls onto his back, and stares at the ceiling.

Perhaps he should just- go to Nines. Maybe that’ll be easier than trying to pick apart a message that seems worthy of his time. If Nines even wants to see him at all, Gavin thinks, mulling over the final beats of their last interaction, retracing every step between him and the android and where it all fell apart. The red flash of his LED, those crestfallen baby blues. 

And his quiet resignation. Stepping away when every fiber of his self was likely screaming at him to snag Gavin by the shoulders and shake some sense into him-

He should’ve listened, Gavin thinks. Another hot tear rolls past his temple and bleeds into the sheets. Edith shifts beside him. Coming to his side- sitting pretty in his line of sight.

No purrs. Just silent judgment.

Gavin can hear it clear as day.

Go get him, you fuckin’ dumbass.

“I must be losing my goddamn mind,” he tells her, swiping that single tear and rising in a quick, clean motion. His feet hit the hardwood and he strides across the room for a pair of jeans and his keys, holding the fob between his teeth as he quickly dresses. Damn near stumbling out of the bedroom as he rakes his hands through his loose, unsculpted hair. Scanning the floor for his boots as he tries to ignore the evidence of his brother’s departure. 

“Get yourself together, Reed,” he grumbles, grimacing past a fresh wave of hurt as he settles for his loose fitting converse instead, already half past the entry way.

He reaches for the door knob, rips the door open and-

Nines is standing there.

One hand raised mid-knock, frozen in time with a surprised yellow temple light. In from the cold- Gavin can smell the snow still clinging to his sweater.  

Neither one of them speaks. Gavin’s throat works uselessly, his grip tightening around the doorknob like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

Then, wordlessly, he collapses forward.

And Nines catches him effortlessly.

The sound that leaves Gavin isn’t quite a sob, isn’t quite a breath- it’s everything he’s been holding since the door first closed. And Nines just holds him there, firm and steady, one hand cradling the back of his neck, the other pulling him in tighter.

“I’m sorry..” He wheezes, arms wrapped so tightly around Nines that he’s almost afraid he might break.

“You’re apologizing? Are you ill?” Nines teases.

Gavin can feel his smile against the crown of his head- and he breaks into a watery, breathless little laugh.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

Nines huffs a quiet chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“I’ll take that as progress,” he murmurs.

Gavin only squeezes tighter.

And for once, he doesn’t have to say a damn thing.

Notes:

SCREAMING

CRYING

I WAS SO EXCITED ABOUT THAT DOOR SCENE.

Because it’s not always about bracing for impact.

Sometimes. You just have to catch them. When. They. Fall.

Tears. A million tears.

Thanks always for reading <3

Chapter 26: Rule of Threes

Notes:

*cutely updates this after two months of silence*

Listen- ya'll ever just need to touch grass??

I've also been working on another fic. I am a mess.

My deepest apologies xD

That being said, I know there's a lot of people who have heavily anticipated one of the events that happens in this chapter. So, I feel like I've kept ya’ll waiting long enough.

*skitters away*

Gavin doesn’t say much once they make it past the threshold. He struggles to dry his eyes, struggles to keep his hands from clinging onto Nines as well. Back and forth between pulling himself together and falling apart again. 

But Nines doesn’t need the whole story. He doesn’t need for Gavin to relive his pain when it’s still so fresh. He just needs him to breathe. 

“Don’t touch that,” is all Gavin’s really said, when Nines went to move the pan off the stove. Fried eggs gone cold, the bread gone stale. Breakfast in ruins it appears.

He was only trying to clear the mess. 

But Gavin’s not ready. So Nines lets it rest. 

Morning soon bleeds into evening. Gavin left the lights off, his eyes fixated on the living room window where he glared in quiet discontent. Outside, an orange sun baked into blinding white snow. Nines set a mug down on the coffee table, the porcelain clicked against the glass, pulling Gavin out of his trance. 

“Hot chocolate?” He muses, voice rough and sandpapered with constricted emotion. He wasn’t even aware that he had any hiding in the cupboards, but low and behold. A steaming mug. 

Nines cycles blue. 

“I would have reheated the coffee, but I assumed the pot was still off limits.”

“I didn’t realize you came with a butler setting,” Gavin mumbles in a half hearted tease. His legs are drawn up on the cushion, one knee close to his chest, the other resting on the couch. Lashes sticky and his nose a cherry red. He sniffs, toying with a loose thread in his jeans. 

“Think I’m gonna call in tomorrow,” he says. “I’m not really in the mood for fightin’ crimes or.. Dealing with people in general.”

Nines softens, sinking down into the empty space beside the smaller man. 

“Take as much time as you need,” he tells Gavin. Pulling him into his chest. The human falls like gravity, and melts against him. “Just don’t let it consume you.”

Gavin quietly snorts. “Look at you with all your wisdom,” he mutters. Nines smiles, brushing back a few loose strands of Gavin’s hair. 

“I’m still learning,” he murmurs. He presses three kisses into the crown of Gavin’s skull. Slow, reverent little presses that seal his unspoken words like a vow. Sparking a tiny hum- the smallest little laugh- from Gavin’s throat. Almost like he’s surprised. 

“I have the world’s deadliest weapon giving me kisses,” he says. 

And Nines has the world's loneliest detective entrusting him with his heart and soul- like both weren’t completely shattered by someone who should have protected them. A thought that briefly crosses his mind but never leaves his lips. He only holds Gavin tighter. 

But that’s when the tension returns. Nines can feel it bowed in Gavin’s body before he even speaks. 

“Sorry I threw you out last night,” he whispers. “I thought.. I mean- I just didn’t want you to be right..”

There’s so much ache in that apology, so much grief. Nines nuzzles into him. 

“No, I shouldn’t have cornered you,” he says. “I’m the one who overstepped. So I believe I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Gavin sniffs again, wetly this time. Nines can feel the tremors against his chest. 

“I don’t even know why it hurts so much- I never had much of a relationship with him to begin with.”

Nines softly hums. “Sounds like you’re mourning what could have been.”

In return, the human emits a quiet, breathy laugh. 

“That’s the story of my fuckin’ life,” Gavin sighs, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes as if to try and stem the tears. Nines gently takes one wrist and peels it away from his face. Absorbing the wracks against his frame as Gavin struggles to hold his own composure. Letting the android take his hand, peppering another pattern- a triage of kisses- into his palm. 

Gavin takes a breath, like he wants to laugh again, but it falls short. 

“Do you even know what three’s are ‘sposed to mean?” He teases. Nines doesn’t miss a single beat, he releases that hand and coils his arms around Gavin’s chest instead. Opal eyes glimmering in the amber sun. 

“Depends. Are you ready to hear it?”

Gavin’s whole heart stops. Nines can feel the drop in his arms- cushioned this time by that single, quiet confession. 

He can’t see Gavin’s face- the way his lip twitches and trembles into a broken watery smile or how his brows curve like he so desperately wants to believe it. 

But he can hear it in his voice. That small waver. Like a glimmer of hope.  

“No. Not like this,” he mutters. Staring out at the window again, at the waning sun. 

“Well, it’s there whenever you want it,” Nines tells him quietly. 

Gavin nods- almost imperceptibly. His chest stutters with one shaky breath- and Nines feels it. That quiet, wordless thank you pressed between them. 

And for a moment, they stay like that. One heart, one pump. Beating in tandem. 

Then Gavin slowly turns. Sliding a foot over the edge of the couch and nudging Nines. 

“Can I show you somethin’?” The question itself is small and timid. So unlike the loud and abrasive man he met what feels like a lifetime ago. 

Nines only nods, flickering steady blue as Gavin’s hand curls into his. 

“‘Kay..” Gavin whispers, the word is but a mere breath. Like an exhale as he stands, urging Nines to follow with a gentle squeeze. 

The android rises slowly, and together, they pad their way into Gavin’s bedroom. 

---

Edith greets them with a tiny mew. Nines perches on the edge of the bed as she glides up to him- tail erect, motor buzzing. He strokes her fondly while Gavin digs under the bed once more, emerging with that old shoebox again. He places it gently on the mattress before joining Nines, sitting directly across from him, legs crisscrossed on the bed. The android mirrors him on the other side.

“Brace yourself- shit’s about to wreck me all over again,” Gavin warns with dry amusement. Nines merely watches as he lifts the lid with such care, like a private ritual he’s been performing for years.

Twilight barely filters through the window, so Nines quietly summons one of Gavin’s smart lamps, dimming it until the room settles into a gentle glow. It casts a perfect shadow over the box, concealing its contents beneath a thin black veil- as if preserving part of the mystery.

Gavin sets the lid aside, mindful of the fraying cardboard, battered by age, its corners gnawed on by a mischievous little Edie.

Nines watches curiously. Edith investigates with a wiggly nose, slipping away from him as her soft paws dimple the comforter. She crosses the space between them and nuzzles the edge of the box, dragging her side against it before nudging Gavin’s arm with a tiny headbutt. He pauses to pet her, palm gliding down the length of her back, before clearing his throat.

“It’s just a bunch’a junk, mostly,” he says, something already constricting his voice.

Nines tilts his head. Scanning the box. Its length. Its dimensions. Peering past the crooked edge for a glimpse of what’s inside.

Hair clip.

Pocket knife.

Letters and loose photos.

Gavin sifts through it gently, pulling one picture free- one he studies with such poignancy before slowly passing it to Nines.

“This was us,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper. Hardly a tremor.

Nines extends a hand to take it. Gavin hesitates, as if the photo itself might be mishandled or dismissed once more- so Nines doesn’t push. He simply keeps his hand open and steady. As if to say:

Your grief is safe with me.

Gavin finally lets it go. Nines accepts the photo with careful fingers, studying it while Gavin’s gaze lingers- like he’s watching his own insides laid bare on the table.

The moment hits him hard. His eyes swell, his voice trembles. He mutters an apology and wipes at his face.

“Sorry.. Um..” He begins to point, moving slowly, pausing between captured faces as if pausing to breathe.

“Those are my parents- my mom and dad,” he says, indicating the adults in the photo. Both are smiling. The man wears red plaid and faded jeans, his grin wide and toothy. The woman stands beside him in a blouse and floral skirt, lips curled into a softened smirk, her hair loose and caught in what looks like a gentle breeze.

Gavin’s hand moves again. His eyes glass over as he taps the image of a dark-haired boy standing stiffly on the bottom step between them. Thick rimmed glasses. A striped shirt.

“That’s Eli,” Gavin breathes, swiping away another tear.

Then his finger hovers over the final figure- probably the happiest of them all.

“And that’s me.”

The boy couldn’t be more than three or four years old. Shiny hair. A wide, gap toothed grin. Overalls over a white T-shirt, bare feet perched on his father’s knee, eyes sparkling.

Nines flickers yellow. Facial recognition confirms: Gavin Reed, age four. All smiles. Pure, unguarded joy.

The hardened shell of the man beside him keeps talking.

“That was our house. We had a swing set in the backyard. E and I shared a room, but there was a spare- I think my dad used it as an office or something. I don’t remember..” Gavin mutters.

Nines looks up without a word.

Gavin pulls the claw clip from the box next, rubbing his thumb along the plastic. His shoulders hunch. His eyes glitter.

He looks so-

Deflated.

Even his voice withers.

“Um.. My mom got into a pretty bad accident that year.” Gavin doesn’t look up, his attention fixed on the clip as he speaks. “She was T-boned at a red light and it really fucked up her back. I remember- she didn’t leave the hospital for weeks, and dad had to take off work ’cuz there was no one else to watch us. So, we went back and forth a lot.”

He remembers sleeping on the hospital cots.

The smell of antiseptic.

The steady beep of monitors.

“She got hooked on pain pills. They gave her Oxy.” His voice fractures like glass, tears thickening in his eyes- as if saying the name might summon the monster back to life. “Like.. The literal shit that was ruining people’s lives,” Gavin explains. “It ruined ours. Dad lost his job and he left us a few months later. He just.. Drove away one night and-”

His breath catches.

“He never came back.”

Nines glances down at the photo again. There’s water damage in the corners of the grain, tiny splotches blurring the image.

Something tightens in his chest- a voltage of recognition- as he studies the man in the picture. 

His LED flashes amber red before regulating.

Across from him, Gavin toys with the clip, opening and closing it, his voice slipping into autopilot.

“The bank took our house and we moved to Hamtramck. We lived in this.. Tiny two bed with a shitty chain link fence and a broken furnace,” he says, bitterness fraying the edges of his voice before it softens into something distant. “But that was home for a while,” he murmurs- the word catching like a stone in his throat.

And the way he says it.

Home.

That alone could crack Nines in two.

“Mom would make chocolate pudding and we’d sit out on the porch with her busted up stereo sometimes. Just.. Watching the cars drive by.”

Nines tries to imagine it. Tries to compute in the only way he knows how- through preconstruction. A blue grid blooms behind his eyes, shapes rising like ghosts in a rendered memory. Gavin’s voice fills in the gaps as he speaks, recollecting it all on his own in real time.

The song on the radio, the smell of chocolate pudding-

The frayed knees of his jeans.

The warm body beside him on the steps.

A name he can hardly speak without fracturing something else inside his chest.

“And.. Eli was really smart- obviously. Fuckin’ Man of the Century or whatever,” Gavin mutters. “He started gettin’ a lotta attention from all these deans at big fancy colleges. Then some bitch from Colbridge started paying for his schooling- cash under the table. Mom didn’t need to think twice about it.”

Gavin sniffs. Nines watches a single tear trace its way down the line of his stubbled cheek.

“She was always so proud of him,” Gavin continues. “She didn’t like me very much.” His fingers drift to the scar on his nose. “She said I looked like him. My dad. She’d call me by his name when she was mad at me.”

Nines absorbs it with a faint flicker, but he doesn’t interrupt. He only listens.

“It wasn’t all bad though..” Gavin says. He leaves the clip in his lap and pulls another Polaroid from the box. “Once E went to college, it was just me an’ her. Yeah, there were days she couldn’t function, but..” His voice tightens. He passes the photo over, and Nines accepts it, carefully shifting the first image into his other hand.

Gavin is older in this one- maybe ten. His mother-

Elizabeth N. Reed

DOB: 10/17/1982

Deceased: 02/18/2014

She still looks young. Long cascading hair, narrow face, hollow eyes set in a frail frame. But she’s smiling. They both are- heads thrown back in shared laughter.

A candid.

“That was my tenth birthday,” Gavin says, almost smiling himself. “Mom always made our cakes- she liked to bake. Even when she..” He stops, swallows. “Even when she started gettin’ worse. And it was, like, her thing to shove our faces in it. That’s why I’m covered in frosting.”

There’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes- blurred now by tears.

Nines studies the photo as if it’s fragile, as if one careless look might damage the memory.

A round table.

An outdoor picnic.

Liz wears a long flannel shirt. Gavin’s in a Spider-Man hoodie.

“I think one of her dipshit boyfriends took that photo,” Gavin mutters, thinking of the revolving door of men who drifted in and out of his life- some who tried to be a dad, some who barely noticed him.

Some who tried to fix his mother.

Others who broke her.

Sometimes he wonders if she ever felt lonely, too.

Nines flickers again. He wants to tell Gavin that he has his mother’s smile- but decides he’s already been compared to one parent enough.

“I wish..” Gavin swallows. “I wish she could see me now. What I’ve done with myself. Like I didn’t just.. Do nothing.” His voice wavers, but he presses on. “I made it outta the system. No snotty professors paid my way. Nobody held my fuckin’ hand. Now I’m a halfway decent detective- when I wanna be.” A quiet, self-conscious huff of breath. “I dunno. It’s stupid..”

Nines feels an ache he’s never known before- raw and unfamiliar- watching Gavin slip into silence. His lower lip trembles. Another tear breaks free.

His voice fractures into a thin rasp. “You have no idea how lucky you are to have the Blaines.. I- I would give anything-”

The words die there, swallowed as Gavin draws his knees up to his chest, curling inward. The rest of the sentence lingers unspoken: people who care. A family.

It’s stupid.

It’s childish.

He’s been alone long enough that he should be past peering through other people’s windows, yearning for things he was never meant to have.

But Nines doesn’t hesitate.

He lowers the photo, his voice quiet but steady.

“Would you like to meet them?”

Gavin doesn’t answer. His fist tightens around the fabric of his sleeve like a lifeline. Nines can see the spike in his heart rate, the tension bowed through his crumpled frame.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow,” Nines adds gently. “Or even next week. But Janice has already expressed a desire to meet you- and I think you and the Captain may have a lot in common.” A faint pause. “Aside from police business.”

“I’m not..” Gavin exhales. “Meet-the-parents material here, Nines.”

“Says who?”

Still, Gavin says nothing.

He keeps clutching his sleeve, knuckles pale. Nines smiles- small and fond- and flickers back to a calm, steady blue.

“Besides,” he teases softly, “it’s only fair. I got to meet yours.”

He passes the photo back with reverence, giving Gavin time to take it. He does, though his fingers hesitate.

“They’re not gonna like me,” Gavin whispers, staring down at the Polaroid.

Nines reaches out, cups his cheek, and wipes a stray tear away with his thumb.

“Gavin,” he says quietly, warmth threaded with humor. “They put up with me. They’re going to love you just the same.”

That earns him a weak, breathy chuckle. “I dunno.. Feels like a pretty big step.”

“I told you- it doesn’t have to be tomorrow.” Nines’ voice softens further. “But.. You’re very special to me.”

“Gay.”

Nines flashes a solid yellow. His expression falls. “Can I ever just have a tender moment with you?”

“No. Probably not,” Gavin replies, flashing a wicked, watery grin.

Nines takes it in with helpless fondness, filing every piece of him away for safekeeping.

Silly human.

He has no idea- no idea at all- that it has just become Nines’ singular mission to ensure he never feels unwanted again. To give him so much affection that loneliness becomes a distant, unrecognizable thing.

“Silly human,” Nines says aloud this time, brushing Gavin’s hair back from his face. He gazes at him like a lovesick puppy. “You are the most extraordinary thing.”

He expects a crude remark. Something loud or deflective.

But Gavin Reed surprises him- again.

He softens. Accepts it. The warmth.

For once.

His jaw trembles. His eyes glitter. He nudges the box aside and reaches for Nines, fingers curling into his collar as he pulls him into a longing kiss. They melt together like wax paper- seamless, yielding- until Gavin finds himself pressed halfway into Nines’ lap.

He pulls back with a soft, wet smack.

Those eyes- gentle, luminous- are the softest shade of grey Nines has ever seen.

He quietly tags the hex code, and logs it away into Gavin’s sacred file. Underscored as his new favorite color. 

“I think I’m ready to hear it now,” Gavin murmurs.

Nines feels the spark ignite in his chest. He lifts a hand to cradle Gavin’s jaw, and the human leans into his palm without hesitation- folding into the touch like gravity has finally claimed him.

“I love you,” Nines says.

It lands like a simple truth. Quiet. Reverent. Met with a soft, disbelieving breath.

Then Gavin pounces.

He climbs over the android as Nines falls back against the bed, and suddenly they’re laughing- really laughing- like teenagers. Kisses traded between grins, teeth bumping, smiles stealing breath. As if all the ache from earlier finally burst the dam and gave way to something vast and weightless. Cosmic relief.

Nines is still reeling when Gavin pulls back, caged between his hands and knees. That familiar, devious smirk curls across kiss swollen lips, an impish glimmer dancing in those too pretty eyes.

He braces himself- expecting something crude, something sharp or teasing, especially with the heat slowly blooming between them.

But this is Gavin.

So, once again, Nines is caught completely off guard.

“You wanna burn this shit in the alley?”

The android blinks. Processes. That look in Gavin’s eyes suggests he’s serious.

Still- there are more pressing matters at hand. And one item of his own he’d like to add to that hypothetical bonfire.

“Later,” Nines says, catching Gavin by the collar and pulling him down. “You have unfinished business.”

He watches the cogs turn. Watches the rose flush bloom across Gavin’s cheeks and creep all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Fuck- gimme a sec-” Gavin untangles himself, suddenly all elbows and urgency as he relocates the box. Earlier handled like a live grenade, it’s now deposited onto the nightstand with considerably less reverence- objects clunking softly inside, the lid left askew.

Then he snatches the cat from her peaceful loaf on the pillow, where she’d been busy making biscuits and shedding with purpose.

Edith lets out a sharp murp- offended.

“Be gentle with her,” Nines scolds.

Gavin does not hear him.

“She’s fine,” he tosses back, already halfway across the room. Edith shoots him a look of pure betrayal as she’s plopped outside the door. She skitters down the hall, clearly unimpressed.

Gavin isn’t worried.

He’ll give her treats later.

The door clicks shut. He spins back around, already tugging the hem of his shirt-

“Gavin.”

He stops.

Nines is seated on the edge of the bed again, watching him with that faint, helpless fondness that’s starting to feel alarmingly close to worship. Far too soft to be the same android who once drove him up the wall in all the wrong ways. Dressed in one of his dark cable knit sweaters, he extends a hand- delicate. Patient.

“You don’t need to rush,” Nines says, pulling him in.

Gavin lands between his open knees, still standing as Nines rests his chin against his chest.

“Last time I went slow, we were rudely interrupted,” Gavin murmurs.

Nines flickers with amusement. “I’ll handle it personally this time.”

Gavin hums, intrigued. “I’m sure you will.”

He brushes that loose tendril back, and the quiet sound it draws from Nines makes something warm bloom behind his ribs. Blue eyes flutter closed; lips press briefly to Gavin’s sternum.

He really is too perfect for his own good, Gavin thinks. Completely. Utterly smitten. The realization nearly steals his breath.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death’a me,” he whispers- half laughing, half praying.

Nines opens his eyes. His LED pulses cerulean.

“Gavin.”

The name is a challenge.

And Gavin knows exactly how to answer.

“Niles.”

Two greedy hands curl into his belt loops, tugging him closer by the hips.

Nines practically growls.

“Come here.”

That’s it. That’s all he needs.

Gavin climbs over Nines as their mouths meet, the motion pure muscle memory by now- fire colliding with fire. It’s different this time, though. Nines is letting him steer. Every shift, every kiss, every push and pull, each rustle of fabric is met with eager reciprocity. Sighs are swallowed. Breaths punch out and vanish between them. Hands tangle in Gavin’s hair; Gavin presses close beneath the knit of Nines’ sweater.

He shifts, barely breaking the kiss as he nudges himself higher, knees easing apart to settle between those long, gorgeous thighs.

The movement ignites a yellow flicker at Nines’ temple- internal fans spinning up.

Gavin can’t help but smile against those pillowy lips.

“God, you’re gonna be a wreck before we even start, huh?”

Nines doesn’t answer. He simply pulls Gavin back into a deeper kiss, arching into his touch like willows bending in the wind.

They’re far too overdressed, Gavin thinks. He’s already fumbling with his zipper, shucking his jeans down as heat rolls off his skin- near molten. Nines savors it with bare, alabaster fingertips, dragging them across Gavin’s back, over the bumpy ridges of silvered scars, then lower- dipping into the loosened denim at his hips. His palm kneads one perfect handful of ass, greedy and unrestrained.

Gavin groans into the kiss, hands pawing insistently at Nines now, urging him toward the same state of undress.

“C’mon.. Wanna see you,” he murmurs, breaking away only long enough to chase those intoxicating lips again. His grey eyes are heavy with want- an expression Nines has never learned to refuse.

They fumble through removing shirts. Gavin’s comes off in a frantic blur; Nines peels his away slowly, deliberately, ivory freckled skin revealed beneath the lamplight. Gavin swallows, eyes dragging over him like he’s taking in a masterpiece inch by sculpted inch.

He licks his lips and tugs at Nines’ belt.

“They really broke the fuckin’ mold with you, didn’t they?” The praise leaves his mouth unguarded.

Nines even smiles.

“You’ve already got me in bed, Detective,” he replies lightly, opal eyes unwavering- watching, waiting, restraining himself from pouncing first.

But Gavin wants to savor it. He plants his hands on Nines’ thighs, palms gliding down the seams of his pants, breath hitching.

All the while, Nines is cataloguing him- every stammer, every blush, every shaky breath- logging them like evidence of what it means to feel alive.

“Sorry,” Gavin admits softly. “I think I’m kinda nervous.”

Nines sinks back into the pillows, one arm folding behind his head like a Renaissance portrait come to life.

“You won’t break me,” he murmurs- his voice a direct line to Gavin’s pulse.

Gavin chuckles, leaning over just long enough to grab the bottle from the nightstand. He tosses it onto the bed beside them, gives himself a second to breathe, then dips back down- capturing Nines in a slower kiss. He cups his jaw, tugs his lower lip, grinds their hips together.

Nines hums- soft, rumbly- clawing at him in return.

“But I’m really, really hoping you do,” he growls.

And that’s it. That’s all Gavin needs.

He dives back in, jerking at the belt, sliding his tongue between Nines’ teeth. He commits the kiss to memory- neutral, clean, like distilled water, threaded with the electric buzz of thirium beneath synthetic warmth. Cool. Sweet. A subtle sting that lingers like lightning on the tongue.

Like kissing a thunderstorm still alive with charge.

In return, Gavin’s pretty sure he just tastes like his last cigarette, mixed with this morning’s halfhearted brew and something else a little more human. Salt, skin, and the heat of adrenaline. 

Fondly he muses,

If Nines is the storm, then he’ll be the heat that sets it off. The ignition that sparks the flame. 

He drags another pretty noise out of the android, draws a groan from his own throat in response- an echo of pleasure and anticipation. Already pulsing between his legs, they shed the last of their offensive clothing, flinging it past the edge of the blanket and into nothing.

Skin to skin.

Chest to chest.

Heart to pump.

Gavin’s hair is a wreck, cheeks flushed a vivid pink, blood pounding like a drumbeat in his ears. His hands wander south while his mouth lays claim to the pale expanse of Nines’ throat.

“Gavin-”

The android sounds impatient.

Gavin smirks.

How the tables have turned.

“Say it again,” he teases, lips curling into something sharp and salacious. He flashes his canines like a wolf.

Nines flickers yellow- brief, betraying, displeased only in theory.

Gavin rocks their hips together again, draped over him like melted wax.

“C’mon, baby. You know you want to.” His lips brush Nines’ chin, presses a few kisses in good faith. Their bodies slide together as he grinds, unhurried. “Just say my name again and it’s all yours.”

Nines licks his lips, arches off the mattress in search of friction- trying to quiet the flames already fanning beneath his plates. He draws in a silent breath through his nose, releases it like a pressure valve-

Then gives in.

Ivory hands bury themselves in Gavin’s hair as his name spills from his mouth like scripture.

“Gavin.”

And that’s it. The break in the dam. The final crack in the ice. Gavin even forgets what there was to be so nervous about. Doesn’t even ask if Nines needs prep- doesn’t care. He grabs the lube without peeling his lips away from Nines and cracks the cap.

In theory- he’s never put his dick in an android. Just his mouth- if that counts. Never had the desire or the will too, not until this pair of long legs strolled into the bullpen that fateful Thursday- so he’s expecting a bit of a difference. Not enough of one to notice or to deter him from his own self indulgent sort of expedition. Or from giving Nines an experience he might actually enjoy.

Gavin even defaults for a second.

“Tell me to slow down if it’s too much,” he murmurs. The lube’s cold on his fingers. He warms it with the pad of his thumb, spreading the slippery substance between his fore and middle finger. Nines smiles against his chin.

“It won’t be.”

Gavin pulls back with a soft little smirk, shifting between those gorgeous thighs. He braces most of his weight on Nines, the rest with an elbow on the mattress.  

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” he teases. He allows himself a moment to selfishly stroke Nines with his slippery hand, watching that LED flutter uselessly at his temple.

“I’m-” he hums. “Built to withstand a small explosion. I can handle-”

One hand clamps down on his bicep. The other fists in Gavin’s hair. The human’s grin widens wolfishly as he finds and circles the android’s rim. Pleased to find it feels familiar. Even more so to watch him break.

He drops his head to plant a wet kiss to Nines’ chest and pops back up all smug. Pressing with that same finger this time. Enough to add a little pressure- not enough to dig.

Nines practically coils. One knee coming up, eyes shut and his lips slightly parted.

Completely gone.

“You were saying?” Gavin purrs. His own cock is practically throbbing, weeping even on the bed where he mindlessly grinds against it.

Nines struggles to speak- having not expected to feel as much as he was. To experience the sort of sensations that were sparking all along his core. 

He wouldn’t even describe it as pleasurable yet. Just pressure, and heat. Two things bound to build as his dick twitches all on its own. Seemingly intrigued with the idea as Gavin continues spreading wetness. 

“That’s.. Interesting,” he says. Gavin pushes a little deeper. There’s only minor resistance- no evidence of Nines clenching or finding any discomfort.

“You and that word,” he muses. Watching as those blue eyes flutter suddenly, opening hazy and half lidded. Nearly aglow from something technically synthetic, but emotionally real inside.

He flickers yellow. His lips tug into a faint smile.

“Are you going to tease me all night, Detective? Because I’m growing impatient.”

With need. 

With inquiry.

With a desire to have this perfect human every which way he possibly can.

Gavin presses in deeper, past the first knuckle. Nines actually gasps.

“Just let me fuckin’ have this,” the human growls. Something darkening in his eyes that Nines flags faster than he’s ever recorded data. Pulling the smaller man down for a heated kiss as heat swells beneath his plates. Hands still in their factory state. Shiny white against the golden bedside glow. Willing enough to give him whatever he wants if it means he’ll hear that devastating tone again- the one that just rattled every sensor in his frame.

If he had a heart- it’d be beating against his ribs.

Instead, his fans hum like mad. Vibrating in his chest cavity just to keep him cool. Something that only spurs the human on even further. Smashing their hips together despite how his hand works between them, deepening their kiss into teeth and tongues and glossy spit. Replenishing the lube like it matters-

Nines doesn’t have it in him to tell him it doesn’t. Just leans into his touch- chasing it. 

“Gavin-”

“Almost, baby. Just-”

The human loses himself similarly. Slipping a second finger in beside the first. Itching to savor every moment- every inch. Tugging, pulling, stretching Nines apart. Sweat slicking his skin, moistening it at every pin point in which they touch. Nines is practically on fire- Gavin would be worried if he wasn’t so stupidly turned on. He’s not naive enough to think that an android needs this level of preparation- but fuck, he was gonna give it to him anyway. Burying his face in the crook of Nines’ neck. Thrusting his hand, once, twice. Dragging it out with reverence.

Then finally withdrawing. Allowing his touch to linger up the back of Nines’ thigh just to hike it further up. Nines, in response to this, reaches with one alabaster palm to greedily grope at Gavin’s backside. Urging him closer, more flush as the smaller man cages him between his hands. Cock aligned and begging for entry.

Gavin grants it without breaking their kiss. Nines flutters yellow and his jaw goes slack. Gavin grins stupidly against his lips. Then his breath catches on a moan. Tip engulfed. It practically pops in. He fists his hands in the sheets. Nines butts their heads together, digging his fingers into the meat of Gavin’s ass like he can’t hold on tight enough.

“Holy shit-” Gavin huffs. Pulse thrumming, dick singing.

He pulls back just to feel it breach again. Melting against Nines as his frame physically shakes. Meanwhile Nines is a solid red. With pops in his audio he neglects to diagnose. Already reading an influx of data that flashes behind his eyes in a slew of codes. Length, width- a system warning. 

He groans against it all. Unprepared for just how overwhelming it all was, how good it felt. Gavin wasn’t even fully sheathed yet- but oh, he’s inching his way in. Giving the android a few warm up taps before he finally bottoms out with the prettiest sound that Nines has ever heard. 

He pulls back long enough to take Nines’ face in one hand, looking at him starry eyed and love struck. Just this side of breathless as his voice softly rasps.

“You are so fucking perfect.”

A statement Nines would never have taken into consideration given his disparaging origin. He came into the world a defective piece of plastic. Discarded without so much as a second thought. Programmed to withstand the bare basics of functioning.

But perhaps that’s why they fit. 

Why they make each other whole.

He cups Gavin by the back of the head, unbeknownst to the fact that his hands are glowing from each ball joint that holds him all together. That his skin is crystal white puddles and neon blue ripples at every point of contact. Just watching, breathing as the human rolls his hips. Igniting sparks and sensation in spaces Nines never even imagined he could experience.

He knits his brows. Gavin moans. His grey eyes fall shut, one hand finds the android’s hip. Steadying himself as he sets a pace that falters every time they come together. Unable to help the fact that his breath stutters or that he’s hardly hanging on by a thread. Too caught up in how good Nines feels wrapped around his cock- how he clenches like a fist when Gavin angles just right. Breaking something in his brain briefly. Allowing him to drop his guard and lose himself completely.

“Fuck- I’m not gonna last-” Gavin breathes. Slumping against the taller man’s chest with his forehead pressed against his collar. Nines threads his fingers through the human’s hair. Lips pressing softly against his sweaty brow. He can only hum. Feeling the build of something treacherous start up in his core. Hardly keeping the heart at bay despite how the thirium pumps beneath his skin and the fans whir in chest.

Gavin just fucks him deeper. Feeling the wetness of Nines’ cock as it drags against his abdomen, wedged between their thrusts. Blue lights swirling behind his closed eyelids, his own teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he works his hips against the other man. Biting back whimpers and whines. Grinding almost, not even thinking. Just letting muscle memory angle him just right-

Nines jolts suddenly. With a noise of surprise that makes Gavin laugh.

“Oh- fuck, there it is,” he says. Snapping his hips again. Nines writhes, throwing his head back with a palm to his forehead. All stretched out like a daydream and pulsing red at his temple. Moaning against a burst of pleasure that nearly sends him into overdrive.

Gavin hits that same spot once.

Nines hums. Bites his lip.

Gavin hits it twice.

Nines whimpers- fucking whimpers. The human drops his jaw in awe. 

“Fuck. Can I send it? You’re fuckin’ burnin’, baby.”

Nines has never nodded so fast. Not once in the span of his entire existence. 

He even grabs the headboard just to brace himself.

Gavin then hits that spot a third time. Nines doesn’t even register what happens next. His audio cracks. His vision goes static-

Gavin moans and pulses deep inside of him. Hips stalling as his body locks up similarly. Watching that LED sputter from red to yellow, back to red. Blinking, blinking, then gone. Greyed out by climax. Nothing but the sound of Gavin’s pants and Nines’ fans humming beneath the plates of his frame. Face slack, eyes adrift. Gavin’s still coming, but he drops the moment his body slacks. Pressing sloppy kisses over the android’s chest. Between the pecs, over the sternum. Giving special attention to the freckles he so adores. Still fully sheathed when Nines comes back online. Lifting his head just in time to watch those opal eyes flutter.

They point to him. Gavin just sighs. Like the weight of the world’s finally been lifted off of his shoulders. All the while Nines is actually shaking. 

“I love you too,” Gavin says finally. The words tumble out of him with such softness. Nines is still sifting through all the codes scattering across his eyes- but that alone nearly puts him back in a spin.

His pump even flutters. 

That’s when they melt. A boneless pile of limbs interlocked. Their lips crashing in a reverent kiss. Three desperate pecks and two broken pieces of a puzzle.

Somehow finding shape in each other.

---

Later that same night, long after the sun sets and navy blankets the sky. Gavin strikes a match over a metal barrel. That age old shoe box and the memories it's held spilled out in the bottom of it along with Nines’ old Cyberlife jacket. Lighting the last cigarette he’d dug out of his bent up pack. Taking a long drag as the cherry swells amber red in the dark. With Nines beside him- Gavin’s hoodie clinging to his frame, hands tucked away in the pouch like the cold somehow affects him now.

For once, Gavin’s untouched by it. Toking that smoke from under his hood as he shakes the flame out of the match. They already poured the kerosene. It was soaked into the fabric of Nines’ tattered uniform. Emblems still glowing faint cyan at the bottom of the bin like flickers of the past trying to find them once more. But to no avail. 

For they could no longer reach what’s been mended.

Not healed, of course. There were aches in the cracks. But for once, Gavin could let them breathe. No longer haunted by ghosts. No longer held back by grief.

Smoke billows past his lips. He doesn’t even think of his mother this time. Doesn’t dwell on the hurt when Elijah’s parting words cross his mind. Just exhales into the cold Michigan night and flicks the ashes into the snow. Passing Nines a gentle look. The android pulses blue. Calm and sure.

So Gavin takes another drag. Lets the nicotine burn before he tosses the butt. It hits the bottom of the barrel and explodes into flames. Bringing forth a rush of heat that hits their cheeks. Reflecting in their eyes a tangerine glow. 

Gavin watches the pictures crumple into ash, watches the letters burn and that clip as it melts. Nines flickers yellow for just a moment. Otherwise stoic as his jacket catches the flames and sparks a pretty blue when the wiring pops. 

It’s the closest thing to closure either’s ever had. Gavin sniffs. A week ago, he would have blamed it on the cold.

This time, he lets the feeling sit right where it’s always been. Deep in his chest. Right behind his eyes.

He turns to Nines finally. Smushing half of his face against the android’s sturdy shoulder in a means of nudging him.

“C’mon. It’s fuckin’ cold out here,” he mumbles.

Nines hums. “I told you to wear a thicker coat,” he deadpans. 

Gavin chuckles. “Shut up,” he says. Smiling like an idiot as they move. Trudging through the snow. Unable to help himself as he mutters. 

“Fckin’ android."

Notes:

There will be an epilogue soon!

Until then, thanks so much for reading!!! <3

Notes:

Thanks for reading!!

TBC <3