#'elevated stress pattern in your voice' is from iRobot

[localteaaddict]

Save Us From The Time Of Trial (Deliverance Not Necessary)

Pairing: RK900 (Nines) x Female!Reader (Vigilante AU), implied HankCon

Warnings: None besides the reader being foul-mouthed (’cause I myself swear like a sailor)

A/N: I mentioned the idea of Nines who is an android Batman during the night but pretends to be a pure Machine during the day while secretly crushing on Reader (which is mutual btw) to my good friend @bears-shitty-art and thus this self-indulgent AU was born. This is all your fault so I’m also hurling this fic at you @bears-shitty-art.

We both share a weakness for a thicc!Nines and I love me some hunk of manmeat so enjoy. 

-

You felt it the moment you saw the black coat billowing in the winter wind: this was IT.

The infamous White Wolf, as they called him, had the gang member trapped under him, right foot mercilessly digging into the man’s spine to keep him from moving. The suspect’s right arm was twisted behind his back at an awkward angle that you could tell was definitely not natural.

As the man tried to reach for his fallen gun, the White Wolf crashed his other foot over the man’s left forearm. The suspect screamed and you winced in sympathy―you could hear the crack of an ulna even from where you were hiding.

“Don’t be melodramatic,” the White Wolf drawled, the pale mask muffling and deepening his voice at the same time. You shivered despite yourself. “That wasn’t enough to snap the bone. Not completely, at least.”

“You’re a dead man,” the criminal croaked, although even you could see the threat had a dwindling effect. The vigilante didn’t move either. “You hear me? You’re a dead man, you piece of shit. All the gangs in the city want your head. For what you’ve done to them. To us. For interfering in our business.”

“I’ve broken up illegal red ice tradings,” the White Wolf deadpanned, “I’ve stopped you and other anti-android sympathizers from lynching people who’ve done no harm. If you can’t see what you are doing wrong, so be it; you couldn’t get me then, and you’re certainly in no position to make empty threats.”

The man let out an ugly laugh. He struggled against the feet holding him down, to no avail. “Fancy words. You don’t understand, do ya?” he jeered. “Good. Good. Means when you get what’s coming to you, it’ll just hit you harder. Even now you’re―”

You heard a shriek cut short, followed by a dull thud. “I’m not holding my breath for it,” the White Wolf muttered darkly.

You didn’t waste another second; you took out your trusty standard-issue pistol. You held it tightly in your hands. You knew this was going to be difficult; dealing with the notorious vigilante always was. How many times had he led you in a merry chase (which was anything but), playing cats-and-mice around the city, nearing catching him but losing the infuriating lawbreaker at the last moment? This was it. You were not letting him go this time.

“Freeze!” you shouted, adrenaline shredding your voice into something shrill as you whirled out of the flimsy roof access that was your hiding spot. You pointed the gun squarely at your archenemy; you refused to be intimidated. You’d faced him numerous times now and every time, he’d slipped through your fingers. Not this time. You could do this. “Don’t you fucking move, hands where I can see ‘em!”

The White Wolf froze. Slowly, he lifted his head. You could feel his piercing gaze on you.

He didn’t move.

“I said hands up, fucker! Don’t make me say it again!” You gestured at his still hands, the gun wildly jerking.

His black coat whipped about dramatically in the wind. He appeared as he usually did: long coat with a raised collar and a hood obscuring nearly half his face in shadow, turtleneck shirt, matching pants and boots. Not a speck of skin showed, which made sense. He was Night Incarnate, right down to the bone-white mask that obscured his entire face.

Finally, the White Wolf slowly raised his gloved hands. A giddy, triumphant smile played on your lips but then the motherfucker just had to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“Detective (Y/N).” Damn, but was his voice nice. No matter how much you hated him for making your life difficult, you had to give it to him: he was one smooth criminal. “What a pleasant surprise. Unexpected, but pleasant nonetheless.”

"Ooh no, you don’t get to say that kind of shit, not after all the trouble you put me through,” you growled at him, approaching cautiously. He was tall, taller than most of the men you’d known. You could see how tightly his shirt clung to his body this close, how just built he was. You sucked in a breath. Now was not the time to be ogling at the wanted vigilante. The Lord is testing me...

You glanced at the criminal that was now serving as the White Wolf’s pedestal; he was knocked out cold. Good. That meant you could concentrate fully on your rival. Wordlessly, you motioned for him to turn around so you could handcuff him.

“You have the right to remain silent,” you gritted out through your teeth, taking hold of his bicep. Holy shit, he was thick. Oddly cool to touch, but even through layers of clothes you could feel the outline of his firm muscles, how corded and hard they were. “Anything you say can be and will be held against you in a court of law―”

“If I said ‘you’, does it mean I get to have you closer?” he mused, looking back at you. You hated yourself for blushing up a storm. You pulled his arms harder, jerking his shoulders back.

“Motherfucker you did not just say that,” you hissed. “I should punch your stupid face for that smartassery. You’re lucky I’m an officer of law, not some lowlife thug who’d actually do it.”

He hummed. “Indeed.”

You were about to click the handcuffs shut and lead him away, but he suddenly whirled around, batting the gun away from your hand before grasping your wrist to simultaneously hold you in a headlock. His hand held your right wrist in an iron grip, the arm locking you in place, flat against his body. You attempted to hit him with your left elbow, but he also took hold of your left hand, twisting the arm behind your back. It didn’t hurt painfully, but try anything and you were sure he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the limb out of its socket.

“Really?” You grunted irritably, tugging to no use. “Now you want to be difficult? Great timing, fantastic―”

“I think you misunderstand, Detective,” he was eerily calm, and the iron note in his voice stopped you from pulling any further. The tone of his voice reminded you of something, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. “We’ve had the same argument over and over again as you continued to pursue me, and I will say it again: I am not looking to fight you. I’m merely trying to administer justice where the law would prefer to overlook.”

Yeah, you’d had the same conversation (or more like battlefield banters, which you’d exchanged with the vigilante as you’d chased him street from street, time and again) with him before, and your answer did not change. You glared at him.

“You don’t get to decide on what’s right and wrong, dickhead. You aren’t the judge, jury and executioner. Especially the last part. There’s a reason why all this legal system’s in place.”

“Which is dysfunctional and virtually non-existent when it comes to androids,” the White Wolf countered. His voice tickled your ear and you flinched. “You know what they face on daily basis. You’ve seen what happens to them when some humans decide to act on their hatred.”

You hesitated at that. You did remember some of the crime scenes left by the humans who weren’t too keen on the idea of equality. Only a few days ago you’d witnessed the aftermath of a lynching, the fresh pool of blue blood still drenching the ground and the wails of the found-family who’d lost their loved one.

You’d only just realized that the man now lying on the ground, out and cold, was one of the prime suspects of that case: Jeremy Brown, age 33. You swallowed thickly before turning on the White Wolf again. He was trying to get a rise out of you, to make a gap so he could disarm you completely and make a run for it. You knew it and you still fell for it, feeling the hot anger starting to boil.

“So what, you decide to take the matters into your own hands? ‘Cause you think you’re better? More impartial? More righteous?” You turned your head to glare at his impassive mask.

“No, Detective,” his voice was calm, composed. Yet you couldn’t stifle a shiver that crept down your spine. Every time he took a shallow breath, you could feel his chest rising and deflating against your back. “Because no one else will.”

You were about to open your mouth when the White Wolf suddenly pulled you flush against him, using his hold on your body against you. You were crushed to his chest, two large hands grabbing you tight.

“Wha―” you didn’t know how to react, or decide what to react at first, for that matter; the wide, firm but surprisingly soft chest that was practically bear-hugging you, or the clean smell of breeze and petrichor that flooded your nostril, or the fact that you were effectively in the arms of the wanted vigilante. Whom you’d just been chasing and was supposed to bring in for the countless times he’d eluded you, if for nothing else. He’d made a complete ass of yourself and the entire force, for fuck’s sake. Get a hold of yourself!

“You fuckin’ jackass, what the hell are you—” You heard the shot loud and clear; it zoomed just past your head, leaving a few stray hair fluttering in the air while droplets of blue splattered across your ear and temple.

You blinked. The White Wolf, bleeding from the shoulder and still holding you tight, immediately jumped from the edge of the roof and onto the closest fire escape. You could hear the gunshots hitting the rooftop and you huddled instinctively, face stuck against a very well-developed, muscled, yet terribly snug b—

“What,” you managed to breath out, “the actual fuck.”

The White Wolf’s eyes, shadowed and unrecognizable, met yours. You blinked when fresh thirium fell on your cheekbone like a teardrop. “You’re an android?”

Come to think of it, it should have been fucking obvious; of course the White Wolf was an android—it had been an acknowledged possibility at the precinct, since no human would stick their neck out for the machines to this degree, not at this point at least. Surely it made sense, but somehow your brain just refused to admit it. Perhaps because he was so different from the androids you’d already met and knew. Those you were close enough to, at least. He’s nothing like Connor, and certainly nothing like N—

You didn’t let your thought wander down that particular lane; instead, you decided to focus on the unwanted epiphany that you probably should have realized the fact when you’d lost him on the third chase when he outran you by half a block. For a police officer, you are such a dumbass. The voice inside your head supplied unhelpfully.

“Keep your head down,” he said as he risked a look over the edge of the roof, “unless you want to lose it.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, you—you criminal!” you retorted indignantly. You then realized that you were still in his arms. You struggled, in vain. “You’d better let me go this instance, or I’ll—”

“As much as I am flattered,” the White Wolf’s tone was flat. “Please note that we are in a delicate situation, Detective; I’m sure even you can see that.”

You huffed indignantly. He plowed on regardless. “Also, they want me, not you. If we split up, you should be able to safely return to the station.”

“Like hell I am!” You growled in his face; the mask had remained miraculously unblemished and clean even now. A sudden reminder that you should have pulled it off of his face first thing interrupted your thoughts, and you didn’t waste a second in reaching for his mask.

You were fast, but he was faster. His hand took your hand in a vice grip, not enough to hurt but hard enough to freeze you in place. The White Wolf didn’t budge.

“I’d appreciate it,” he gritted out darkly, finally something other than cool amusement lacing his voice, “if you didn’t touch it.”

“I am obligated to do so, so you better suck it up.” But he still didn’t let you go; your eyes burned in fury, but you hesitated when you heard footsteps from the roof. The sound wasn’t too far away from where you two were hiding in the fire exit.

“Then it seems I am left with little choice,” the White Wolf said tersely. You saw a dark glint in his eyes. “I apologize in advance, Detective.”

“For what?”

“For this,” and before you could stop - or even evade - the underside of his hand met the back of your neck. A hard impact, blunt pain, and the world blacked out.

The last thing you saw before you completely lost consciousness was the white mask, and hands reaching out to take hold of you gently.

-

“So, Detective (Y/N). How did your little chase go?”

“Shut up and leave me alone, Reed,” you muttered, at which Gavin looked even more gleeful. You seriously started to consider slapping the coffee out of his hand for the spite of it. He would deserve it too, the bastard, for rubbing it into your face this early in the morning. “Or I’ll kick you in the balls.”

“Ooh, big talk from someone who couldn’t keep up with her words,” Gavin continued to mock you, which was...what he did every day, technically, ever since the day one when you were first introduced. It’d become part of the daily routine where you and he would tease and fuck with each other just for the kicks of it, and most of the time it was a welcome relief from the stresses and pressure from work.

On some days, however, it was the exact opposite. Today was such day, and you were this close to actually delivering your promise. It didn’t help that for being an actually decent detective, Gavin was incredibly slow at taking signs. Like how you’d turned away from him now in an obvious I don’t want to talk about it gesture; yet he kept on going.

“But really, how did you lose him? I thought you’d planned this out extensively,” Gavin sounded genuinely bemused, which made it worse. “Y’know, figuring out the routes. Researching where he’d strike next and all that shit. So how did he—”

“I screwed up, okay?!” You exploded, whirling around and turning on him so suddenly he nearly dropped his coffee. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Reed? I know I did my homework, I nearly got him too, but I got cocky. I let my guard down, things went FUBAR, he knocked me out cold and when I woke up, I was lying in front of the station. There, I admit it. I failed spec-fucking-tacularly. Happy now?”

Gavin looked stunned, as though he wasn’t sure whether he should shout back at you or retreat slowly. You didn’t care; you seethed, fists clenched at your sides without realizing. A little harder and your nails would dig in, draw blood - although right now you wouldn’t be too adverse to seeing some.

What you didn’t expect was your eyes growing hot and your vision starting to blur, your breaths coming in short bursts. Oh no. Not now, tears. You just hated being an angry crier, as if the fiasco with the White Wolf wasn’t enough, now you were about embarrass yourself in front of Gavin fucking Reed by bawling like a child—

“Detective (Y/N),” came a voice behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to see who it belonged to, that cool monotone always, always managing to calm you, bringing your blood down from the boiling point. “I detected an elevated stress pattern in your voice. Are you alright?”

Gavin seemed even more bewildered when you sniffed, anger slowly receding. You sighed, turning to face Nines; his LED flicked briefly to yellow, then back to blue. You gave him a small, reassuring smile that you hoped looked strong enough.

“Everything is fine, Nines, I just need coffee,” you threw a flat look at Gavin, quickly swiping your hand across your eyes. “And to get away from Gavin.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring Gavin, you flashed Nines a watery but bright grin instead. “Do you wanna come?”

“Of course, Detective,” Nines conceded gracefully, falling to measured steps beside you.

You wondered if Nines could really empathize with your emotions. Sure, he could read body languages, physical signs and elevated stress pattern in your voice, but did he understand them? What they meant?

Like your increased heart rate as you sneaked glances at Nines walking next to you. It didn’t help that the android was ridiculously attractive; he was everything you’d hoped for in a man but never dared to voice it out loud because you knew it wouldn’t exist. Until now. Long legs, dark hair, bright eyes, looking so deliciously stoic in that black-and-white getup of his—not many people could pull off that collared shirt, but RK900 did, and he did so delectably. Your eyes strayed to his well-muscled chest for a second before returning to his face. Despite the layers of clothes, his build showed.

Part of you felt guilty for eyeing him like this, for thinking of him as more than just a good colleague; Nines was a deviant but only in name. He had yet to display the more sophisticated signs of deviancy, despite the turn and reset in his programming. Most of the time you weren’t even sure if he felt anything, his face always being the same mask of cold unfeelingness.

A Mask…

“Is something wrong, Detective?” Nines was leaning over you slightly in question. You jumped before giving him an exaggerated wide grin.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nines. Why?”

“You’ve stopped,” he explained, and you turned red. “I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Ah,” you sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, avoiding his eyes, which was why you missed another turn of yellow in his LED.

“’s nothing. I was just thinking about last night. Dammit, I was this close to getting him,” you raised a hand, your thumb and forefinger with an inch between them to emphasize just how close you’d been, squinting at Nines’s impassive face. You sighed, dropping your arm. “But I guess it’ll be for another day.”

“You’d attempted to apprehend the vigilante on your own, correct?” asked Nines.

“Emphasis on the attempted, but yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, and he continued.

“While I should point out that you had put yourself at a significant risk pursuing the suspect without a partner or a backup—“ you grimaced, “—I am also compelled to acknowledge that you have……made substantial progress on the case with the leads you’ve found yesterday. It wasn’t all for naught. You shouldn’t reproach yourself too harshly, Detective.”

You froze. You stared at him.

Nines stared back.

Then you noticed his LED cycling like crazy, the color still blue but blinking all the same, and you broke out a huge smile.

“You know you’re too sweet for your own good?” you even laughed a little, giving a friendly smack on his right shoulder. “Thanks, Nines. You’re the best.”

“I do not understand what you mean by ‘sweet’, Detective—”

“Detective (Y/N)!”

You jumped at the sudden call, hand jerking off Nines’s shoulder and completely missing the brief red blink of LED at his temple. Connor had just come from around the corner, looking oddly out of breath despite him not needing any.

You shrugged it off though. It was Connor; if there was ever a special android snowflake, it would be him. “What’s up, Connor?”

“Captain Fowler wishes to speak with you,” he said, an apologetic look on his face making you wince. “I assume it’s about the yesterday’s incident.”

You groaned. “Fucking great. This has got to be the cherry on top of my shit-show sundae of a day,” you scrubbed your hands over your face before giving a wan smile at two incredulous – well, Connor. Nines never showed anything on his face – androids.

“Well, can’t keep the Captain waiting. I’ll keep you guys posted later,” your mouth twisted in a grim line, “if I survive.”

“We’ll see you afterwards.” Nines nodded firmly, and damn if that didn’t make you feel a little better. You winked at him before squaring your shoulders, sauntering off to the lion’s den.

It wasn’t until you’d completely disappeared from view that Nines allowed himself to frown, gingerly checking his shoulder. Connor immediately furrowed his brows in concern, reaching out to help him, only to be stopped by Nines.

“I’m fine. She didn’t do any extra damage.”

“You should have taken today off,” huffed Connor, sounding so much like his human lieutenant in that moment that even Nines had to smile, “and get that bullet wound properly repaired. You could go to New Jericho—”

“And risk rousing (Y/N)’s suspicion?” Nines’s eyes narrowed. “No. I can take care of it myself.”

Connor shook his head disapprovingly, sighing at the younger model’s antics. Every android had a different take on deviancy, but Nines—Nines had taken it to another level, and Connor was the infamous Deviant Hunter-turned-revolutionary.

Connor didn’t envy Nines’s dramatics at all, however; at least he was happily in a relationship with someone he cared for. Nines, on the other hand…

“I’ll go and patch myself up,” said Nines, his face betraying nothing save for the alarming yellow of his LED. “Please let me know once the Detective leaves the Captain’s office.”

Connor could only nod, schooling his face to hide the pity. “Got it.”